Mingle - Emergency Potluck

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WELCOME POTLUCK

Greetings, residents! Those more observant sorts among you may have noticed a large influx of very crowded ferries. In order to welcome our new residents en masse, Town Hall is holding a potluck in Town Square. Please bring a dish if you are able and make a new friend!

All of our newest arrivals need only bring themselves. We look forward to welcoming you all into our community, and may your lanterns always be lit.

This event is open to all! In light of our new influx of prospective players following the Great Sail Migration, we've decided to offer a small public event to tide everyone over until the TDM this weekend.

Comments

Agent Cooper | Twin Peaks | New Character and New Player

[throneoftheblacklodge]

A man with jet-black hair that seems to be slightly graying can be found piling up a mountain of food. Cherry pie, donuts, anything sugary that he can get his hands on, paired with the richest black coffee that he can find. He scarfs it down in a frenzied state, like one who has not eaten in a very long time. And initially, he speaks to no one and keeps to himself.

After a certain point, he pauses in his excess, mumbles something about needing to remember some self-control, and decides to take a deep breath and eat each bite slowly, savoring it. In between bites, he takes much more care to observe his surroundings, watching the other party-goers curiously and taking in the scents of trees on the breeze, trying to name everything he can.

Eventually, he snaps his head to the person nearest to him at the table and announces in a voice that is both flat and a bit too loud, “Hello. Dale Cooper here. By any chance, do you happen to have a pen and some paper that I can use?”

[maltesefalcon]

Dale has looked at a tall, fully-feathered bird-man, with full wings peaking out from the back of his brown overcoat and sharp talons on his hands and feet. Which is all very ridiculous, but perhaps even moreso is the fact that he nods and pulls out a notepad and fountain pen.

"Of course. Cerrit Agrupnin, by the way."

[throneoftheblacklodge]

“Thank you, Mr. Agrupnin,” Cooper says, graciously accepting the pen and notepad without much reaction. He’s never seen a bird man before, but he’s seen enough strange figures in his life that he’s learned to hold off on judgments.

He mumbles his words aloud as he begins to write.

“Diane, time and date unknown.

It has been approximately five years since my last recording. Though keeping track of time has proved difficult. Recorder is gone, so I hope letter-writing will suffice until I can get a new one.

Not sure where and when I am. Time seems anachronistic, folks from different eras or maybe realities. Buildings seem to be industrial era. Wherever I am, it is far too early and is not part of the Lodge’s plans for me. I can only hope this has no implications for my adversary.

Hand cramping. A lot to catch you up on, but it’ll come later.

Cooper.”

[maltesefalcon]

"Date is March 5th, 16:54. Also, that letter's got no way to get out of here to your world."

He's trying to be helpful, here.

[throneoftheblacklodge]

“Thank you.”

He scratches out the date and replaces it.

“Year still unknown?”

He shakes his head at the second comment. “Fate works in strange ways, my friend. If it’s meant to reach her, it will. In the meantime, I just like writing them. Clears my head.”

[maltesefalcon]

"Ah, no, 16:54 is the year as they reckon it here. The time's shortly after three, I think. There's some who carry watches here. I'm afraid I'm not one of them."

The feathers of his crest lift gently, a little embarrassed by the confusion.

[throneoftheblacklodge]

“Ah, my mistake. I assumed military time,” he assures him in that same blunt tone.

Cooper then pauses and leans back in his chair while focusing. Thoughts aren’t spinning through his head the way they used to. His mind had dulled while in the Black Lodge, and he had found himself in something of a meditative state for much of it. Speaking still feels harsh on his own tongue, and his volume seems to fluctuate with much more intensity. The echo of it rings in his ears.

“Tell me, Mr. Cerrit Agrupnin,” he says, voice much softer than before. “What do you make of this place?”

[maltesefalcon]

"Cursed. People are people wherever you are, but the island is cursed."

There's a lot more to it, but there's pieces he literally can't communicate to others because of a deal with a demon. Such is life.

[throneoftheblacklodge]

“The lady up front said as much,” Cooper nods. “Some kind of purgatory situation.”

A completely different purgatory. Interesting.