The Watchers of Night (
thewatchers) wrote in
daybreakacademy2020-08-03 03:47 pm
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[Open] The Mark of the Herald

Mark of the Herald Part I
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Despite certain disruptive events and ominous visions in the preceding month, August is seemingly still free of any problems.
That’s quick to change, however. Starting from the third of the month, strange, circular marks begin to appear on human students around the school - and, indeed, humans around the world. Those affected begin to feel incurably drowsy, something that no magical or mundane solution can seem to cure or relieve; eventually, they’ll fall asleep entirely, whether they want to or not, and enter a state of magical stasis. Not even nonhumans are immune, though whether they’re marked seems to be much more erratic.
Those who remain awake or are otherwise spared by the mark are free to do as they wish - the Academy won’t ask them to do more than keep themselves safe. But where each marked person falls in slumber, a portal will form; a strange tear in reality, offering glimpses of a surreal, nightmarish plane that differs vastly from individual to individual. One thing is certain; the cause of a victim’s seemingly endless sleep and these portals are linked somehow, and the only way to find out exactly how is to go through...and the only ones capable of doing so are those who are still awake.
This log can be used as a catch-all for event-related threads. The information for this event is here.
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[It takes her a while to notice something's off, to put a name to the feeling of the hairs on her neck standing up and realize it's saying "behind you" for no reason that she can consciously identify, almost at the lamppost itself before it dawns on her that it's not just the ambient paranoia that clings to this place like the tar.]
[Hands in her pockets, expression deceptively casual, she turns around in a slow, almost languid motion.]
Hey there.
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What’s up, you meme loving fuck?
[ In the same lazy, nonchalant tone the real Jail is sporting. ]
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Ayyyyy, nice.
So, this gonna be a "there can be only one" thing or an "I'd totally make out with my clone" thing? 'Cause I vote for the second one, but y'know. Shit happens.
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[ She jabs a thumb in the direction of the darkness beyond the light of the lamppost. ]
Maybe if I exist after.
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[About the darkness or the clone makeouts? Unclear.]
Mind if I tag along?
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[ And that's when the smokebomb gets thrown, emitting a bright flash and a cloud of darkness. Two, in fact. One straight down to the ground and a second thrown up high, so a few seconds later it sets off a second assault to the senses.
They both deliberately smell awful. Unfortunately, it's not a fun kind of awful. It's the distinct scent of decaying corpses. A warning, or just how nothing here can be nice? Who knows.
Either way, the duplicate is full-on sprinting out of there, taking a zig-zag route through alleyways but ultimately still heading towards the edge of town. ]
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[The good news is that a smoke bomb doesn't do much to actually impair someone wearing a gas mask. The bad news is that it does still smell pretty bad.]
[Still not enough to prevent Jail from bolting after her doppelganger, using the gravity-defying effect of her boots to run up walls and on smoke where she can to avoid the tar.]
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It doesn't take too long before all the progress towards the light brings them to the dark. It's odd how even with the speed difference taken into account going to the lamppost seems a longer distance than going to the outskirts. ]
Catch you on the- [ The duplicate Jail reaches her goal. A crack in the ground barely visible in the light, bubbling with the thick black tar that oozes everywhere. The scenery around it is the mountainous, craggy look of Bulgaria's Musala, though there's no snow. It would be too bright. The Jail copy performs a full backflip into the tar and just before she dives in finishes her words. ] Flip side!
[ As the ripples fade, music rises from the swamp of tar, warbling and muffled by the thick liquid. ]
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[She comes to a stop, eyeing the gap the clone just vanished into.]
[Out loud, to no one in particular:] ...so this is definitely a trap. [A pause.] Eh, fuck it.
[And down she goes into the dark.]
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Until it's gone, and Jail has entered the place Rex never really left. A large crag in the earth. A few vehicles, all at least a little damage, litter the area- but it's probably the corpses that are more noticeable. There's a great deal of them. Jail's unique history with Rex means she may recognise a few as the sorts of people they'd mutually met in the criminal underworld, but anyone from Daybreak would realise the majority are its staff or attendees. All of them cleaved apart or stabbed. Toki, Adelaide, Ekkehardt, Kokoro. More than a few other Jail's.
The culprit is pretty obvious. Head down slightly, sat on the ground with one knee raised to rest an arm on, the other hand in his lap. In front of him, a sword only slightly shorter than Jail, sunk into the ground which bleeds more of that black ooze. He either hasn't noticed her or doesn't care she's there. ]
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[You're not dead and buried yet. Not if you can still keep digging.]
[She's breathing heavily, trying to fight back the panic, but she makes it out eventually, flipping around midair as she falls to land on her feet out of pure instinct.]
[Taking one last deep breath, she relaxes and looks at the one other person here.]
Welp, don't love what you've done with the place. But hey, we've all had our goth phases, who am I to judge?
[No matter what you put her through, Jailbreak is still Jailbreak. Maybe it's not reassuring to most people, but it makes her feel better.]
[She's pretty sure Rex isn't doing too well, though. This doesn't look like a good place to be.]
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Rex's head raises when Jail speaks, gripping the handle of the massive sword. The other Jails he's been killing mostly tried to sneak up on him or attempted to blow everything up immediately. It's a different approach, but all the same he stands, hauling the enormous weapon out of the ground with a burst of the black substance that seems to bleed out of the ground like a wound. ]
Another one? [ Rolling his shoulders and slowly walking closer, his aggressive intentions are clear even if he's taking his time, holding the sword in a reverse grip so it trails sparks behind him as it slices the ground. ] Always joking. I don't want to hear any more.
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When has someone wanting me to shut up ever stopped me from talking?
[She tilts her head, squinting slightly as she peers at something past Rex in the pile of various dead people.] Hey, is that one Steve? Damn, good thing we're in a dream, real Steve still owes me money.
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Speaking of, you know we're in a dream, right? Pretty sure it's yours, this one ain't me.