NPC Inbox.

[imaginarymods]

NPC INBOX

The office is currently CLOSED.

NPC threads that don't have a particular place in mod logs will happen here! Please note that this post is not for unplanned or drop-in threads unless otherwise noted. Rather, we'll be working on threads here with PCs as determined by RNG or other game mechanics.


NAVIGATION ⯈



code bases by tricklet

Comments

umbrella → sans

[imaginarymods]

Whether or not Sans is the type of person to turn his back on his possessions, there comes a moment when he does. His liveriver orb rests out on the cabana couch. He looks out to the ocean. When he looks back, a somewhat worn red umbrella leans against the couch next to the orb. Something gold drifts just out of eyeshot and is not seen again.

[ribticklers]

[Sans doesn't really expect his stuff to just get up and walk away without him, but maybe he should expect that when some of his possessions include floating orbs? Umbrellas seem like another matter altogether, though. Is that even his? It definitely looks well-used. Sans reaches to pick it up.]

[imaginarymods]

[When Sans picks it up—]

[There’s this sense. It’s hard to describe, clearly an emotional feeling but a convoluted, tangled one. Resignation, reluctance, mourning, curiosity, hope, a faint sense of amusement. Acceptance. And it’s strong, slapping Sans in the hand like somebody decided to give him a feelings high-five. Pretty weird.]

[Something sparks under Sans’s hand, then down the spine of the umbrella to its tip, shooting out the metal end in quick-fading shapes of fire:]

HEL

[There’s a puff of smoke. A faint grinding sound. And then, exhaustedly:]

P

umbrella → mira

[imaginarymods]

Mira stumbles from the crystal maze into the sunlight with the umbrella at her back, dripping wet and urging her along. Instead of the clear waters and bright foliage around the Crystal Lagoon, when she looks up she will see that she's on another, smaller island. The beach is covered in black sand, flecked with iridescent color.

Above her is a mountain, dull rock that would be outshone by the dramatic colors of the beach if it weren't struck through by veins of the same opalescent black. Smoke emerges from the top, a thin but regular trail. The veins change shape towards the top of the mountain, if Mira turns back to see, becoming distant sharp shapes, like thorny vines. If she turns to look behind her, those same thorny vines block the way from this island to the larger island of Baisla.

This is the distant mountain, across the land behind the Gilded Wall. It seems to be an active volcano. But there are no Cursed here. Everything is eerily quiet.

The umbrella presses itself to Mira's side, insistent.

[philoxenia]

[ Alright, then. She's tired and absolutely rattled from everything that happened back there, but she can't stop going now. There might be answers here, after all, and that's what they're all looking for.

She brings a hand to touch the umbrella, just gently. ]

... I'm not sure what's going on, or if you can even hear me, but thank you for your help. So...

[ She's alone, save for the umbrella, and she's never wanted to see her friends more, but right now, that can't be helped. ]

Any ideas which direction we should go?

[imaginarymods]

[When she touches the umbrella, it warms. Shifts slightly to hook its curved handle over her wrist. And, yes, the handle is literally warm against her skin. Not quite human body temperature, but . . . close enough that it's kind of weird.]

[The question doesn't get an immediate answer. Either the umbrella is torn or it doesn't know. The waves lap quietly against the shore behind them. Finally, the umbrella gives a hesitant tug back toward the—]

[The tunnel? Seriously?]

umbrella → wash

[imaginarymods]

Contemplating ominous messages received from beyond?

Need some company?

Wash is thinking about the message he received from Legend Lore, maybe contemplating the wand itself, when he senses a presence behind him. Leaned against the nearest tree is a red umbrella, somewhat worn. He's seen it before, but never on its own. And he's the only person nearby. Curious.

[unrecovered]

[He's found a place to sit and think - a bit of beach not subject to nearly as many glitches as usual. He's been turning the information he received from Legend Lore over in his mind and restlessly turning the wand itself over and over in his hands, as though either of them will help him figure out what he's been told.]

[Of course it would be poetry. He's never been good at poetry.]

[He twirls the wand through his fingers and stops short, flicking his wrist and grabbing the wand in his hand. There's a feeling - the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention - there's something there that shouldn't be - it's the same feeling he gets when he's facing someone with a cloaking unit, someone who can slip his motion trackers and attack undetected - of all the goddamn times for him to be out of his armor-]

[He turns abruptly, and-]

[There's no one there. No telltale shimmer of cloaked armor; no other movement; just...an umbrella.]

[It might be Lion's umbrella - he thinks he's seen them with it before? But he hasn't seen them around, and the umbrella is...here. For some unknown reason. When it sure as hell hadn't been here before.]

[Huh.]

[He blinks, then looks down at the wand in his hand, making damn sure to keep the umbrella in his peripheral vision, just in case. (In case of what, he has no idea.]

You know anything about this?

[He's talking to an inanimate (but magical) object about another inanimate object.]

[It's not the first time Wash has questioned what the fuck has become of his life, but it certainly is one of the weirdest.]

[imaginarymods]

[The wand has nothing to contribute.]

[Then again, the wand has never been much of a conversationalist. What it communicates is words, not feelings. So it sits in Wash’s hand, communicating nothing.]

[The umbrella, on the other hand, is exuding a faint aura of good humor. Or maybe that’s Wash’s imagination? It might not mean anything. Might just be the effect of its association with a teammate. Regardless, he’s not going to get anywhere just staring at it.]

the hunger → maya

[imaginarymods]

[ Maya had a long strenous day. She falls into a comfortable sleep on her bed. Horizontal. Then vertical. She awakens to a place she might not immediately recognize- but it doesn't matter. Those feelings are ingrained as flesh.

The man on the other side of the meeting table actually rises in greeting, hands splayed in... something. A show of joy? Of harmlessness? Of ███████████? But the smile is genuine, exuding relief and happiness between the cracks. Literal ones. One hand brushes over his face, flesh knits back together, There Is Nothing Wrong Here. ]

Maya! There- You have no idea how long I've been trying to- [ Clears throat, sits back down, hands knitted and Professional. ] Where are you?

[feytality]

[ there's some kind of feeling at the edge of her mind -- something she can't place, but when she sees the board room again, the hair on the back of her arms raises. ]

[ maya herself, on the other hand, is none the wiser. she blinks at this man, hard, trying to place him, frowning a little in automatic concern that there's something up with his face. ]

Um.... I'm sorry, I, um, I'm missing some memories, so.... um... I don't know who you are.

.... Or where I am, actually.

[ there's a brief flicker of her eyes to encompass the room, before it goes back to him ]

the hunger → ogata

[imaginarymods]

[ Ogata dreams-

and wakes

But the salty sea breeze is replaced with that specific clean-but-stale scent from over-circulated air conditioning. There is no music, aside from some faint elevator piano somewhere. He sits in an uncomfortable chair, pretending its hardest to be comfortable and failing miserably, staring at an empty gray table. It's a generic desk. It expands for eternity.

Tap. Tap. Fingernails on cheap plywood. ]

Can you hear me?

[ And he dreams of locking eyes with a Man. There is definitely a face, and possibly a friendly one, but somehow, he can't find the words to describe it. Not now. Not ever again. ]

Good. Where- no, that's wrong- Hello. Who might you be?

[snyaiper]

[Ah. Hm. Yeah, that might as well be how it is. Everything has been so vague and hard to grasp, his memories fogged, distantly unplaceably familiar faces, a world of questionable permanence. This man might as well be... as impenetrable as he is. Ogata sits up straight, with a particularly tilt of his head that feels familiar. At attention like a good soldier, but in a weirdly defiant sort of way.]

Superior Private Ogata Hyakunosuke, sir.
[He frowns, because he doesn't know where that title came from. But he's sure that's right. And well, he doesn't know who this man is. But something about him feels like power and authority in a terrible, hateful sort of way. So. Sir.]

the hunger → tommy

[imaginarymods]

[ Tommy's dreams waver in and out of focus, as dreams are wont to do. But one goes so far past lucid it becomes visceral. Every detail recalled as clearly as being awake. What is sleeping anyway? It's just another state of mind, isn't it? Another way of seeing the world.

And this world is limited to a single room, clerical and stale. There are a few filing cabinets (like hollow boxes), degrees hung on the wall that Tommy can't make out (will never make out), windows to an open world (that is only White), a single meeting table that bridges an unfathomable distance. On one side, he sits. On the other side, He sits.

Human Eyes narrow, ever slightly, and the curiosity is plain in the Human Voice. ]

I don't remember seeing you before. What's your name?

[gogreenrangergo]

I, uh...

[ Tommy takes a moment to look out the window, although the view isn't exactly scenic. Where is this place? He was asleep, wasn't he? And who exactly was this guy? After a moment, he realizes he's just left the question hanging, and responds. ]

I'm Tommy. Tommy Oliver.

[ Something in the question catches in Tommy's mind, and he adds quickly: ]

Should you remember seeing me?

umbrella → mccree

[imaginarymods]

[imaginarymods]

part one

Once McCree has joined the Umbra staff in the water around the Calamari Cafe, the Umbra staff begins to flap and move and dip, attempting once more to dive down into the water. It just can't seem to break buoyancy on its own, however, and once it feels it's done enough demonstrating of that concept, it just dips its tip straight down.

Its handle turns McCree's way and almost seems to gesture, for all that an object with no joints in its handle can gesture. If McCree takes hold of the staff and dives, it will tug him behind Miso Fou's bar and deep below. Will McCree follow?

umbrella → shinjiro

[imaginarymods]

Congratulations, Shinjiro! You get a visit today from the amazing, stellar, captivating-

Well okay no the umbrella is none of those things. But Shinjiro may remember the umbrella and its strangeness from hanging out with Lion on numerous occasions. Perhaps it comes as less of a surprise, then, when it comes zooming past Shinjiro outside as if on a mission.

Suddenly, the umbrella veers backward along the same path it passed Shinjiro on until it's back to him, and loops its handle around Shinjiro's wrist.

The umbrella starts pulling Shinjiro toward Miso Fou's cafe. Perhaps he should follow?

[petsthedog]

[Shinjiro's memories are still patchy, but he definitely remembers the umbrella yeeting him several feet into the air the first time he ever tried to touch it, so he's sure to give it a wide berth when it first zooms past him. When it doubles back, though...and loops around his wrist rather than launching him in any weird directions, he's squinting at it suspiciously, but he does ... carefully follow where he's led.]

So now you don't hate me, huh?

Niely → Honoka

[imaginarymods]

part one

[korekara]

[ When Honoka spots Niely, she– well she doesn't think the words "is that a fucking furry" because Honoka's a good girl. But the emotion she experiences is more or less the emotion conveyed by the words is that a fucking furry???. She sort of stares at them for just half a second and then promptly decides that everything about this situation is weird enough that she's not going to question this. ]

Um, hi! [ She starts picking her way through the sand to close the distance between them a bit. ] I'm not hurt, I don't think? Just kinda confused. I have zero idea where I am right now.

Taako → Papyrus

[imaginarymods]

[As per Papyrus's inquiry, after he goes to approach Miso Fou, he'll find the squid quite amenable to the idea. However, very shortly into the preparation of the kitchen, the door to Miso Fou's kitchen swings open.]

THIEF!

You INTELLECTUAL PROPERTY STEALING THIEF!

[Miso Fou makes a strange squid sound, gulping as the Lich from the umbrella appears in the doorway, pointing a skeletal finger at Miso Fou and Papyrus.]

If anyone's gonna teach anyone about my elderflower macaron recipe, it's gonna be the Great Chef Taako himself!

[The lich draws its thumb across its neck, then motions as if throwing that thumb over its shoulder.]

Amscray, Calamari!

[And amscray Miso Fou does, into the depths of the lake beneath the kitchen.]

This is beautiful, I cried a little laughing

[spaghettimonster]

[Starting out, everything was going as swimmingly (nyeh heh heh) as Papyrus could've hoped. Miso Fou seemed on board, encouraging him with tentacled gestures to come around and join in the preparations. Papyrus' practiced alchemical experimentation giving him a little edge in the kitchen. The beginnings of macaron preparation well under way...

And then. Then!

Well, Miso Fou's unceremoniously fleeing from the kitchen before Papyrus can get a word out, being too awestruck by the sight of the Great Chef Taako himself.

Clearly, he and Sans have been setting the fashion rules for skeletons low here. Red cape-like scarves? Pshh. Nothing compared to skeletons in full, ominous red cloaks!]

Oh my god!! You... Aren't you...

Taako from The Umbrella?!? Taako Emphasis-on-the-aa???

[It's not quite TV, but if you just write the U in a really quick and jagged way...]

angus → papyrus

[imaginarymods]

[It's been a very weird couple of days for Angus McDonald. Still reeling from the revelation that he confronted Lucretia at Candlenights and was the one to put the wheels in motion for this entire island's creation, he's now having to adjust to the fact that the whole Universe has informed him he's a dragon.]

[None of this is welcome news.]

[Still, all he can do is forge forward. So for the past 24 hours, Angus has been Thinking. Delving deep into his mind and pulling up memories slowly and painstakingly, one by one. They come unstuck only with great effort, but he's starting to figure things out.]

[One thing becomes clear sooner than others: there is something he can do to help. And he doesn't know why, exactly, but he knows immediately who to offer it to.]

[He sends Papyrus a message asking to meet at Miso Fou's lake. When he gets there, Angus is holding something clenched tight in his palm.]

Hello, sir. Thanks for meeting me here.

[spaghettimonster]

You're welcome! It was no problem.

[Really, it wasn't. Except when trying to hang out with Michael, he comes here pretty frequently... And honestly, this lake is really becoming the center of these islands, for Papyrus. Underwater adventures, cooking adventures, emotional whiplash conversations over photos and canceled deaths and puns...

Really, if he has that kind of layered memory associated with any places back home, wherever it is, he is probably going to cry the first time he revisits them.]

But. I didn't catch what, exactly, we're meeting about... Are we eating to celebrate all our successful detective-ing?