Killers and victims, killers and victims. Three of your own have fallen prey to murderous intent last week. Your numbers keep shrinking. Azura has fallen prey to Franciscus in the same night that Olympia betrayed her friend Millium and killed Cian who wound up in the crossfire. At this rate, is there anyone you can trust?
The townspeople's anger burns hotter than ever. Wherever they go, must they live in fear of stumbling on a corpse? They can't live like this. More than ever, the visitors are being shown that they are
unwelcome.
Walking outdoors, cold looks are the norm. Shouted profanity isn't unexpected. Barely anybody is willing to still hold a conversation with any visitors.
Even within the motel, there is no feeling of safety any longer. Not only have two people died in this very place, no, now the townspeople also lost their fear of coming inside. While they don't enter private rooms, the daring among them vent their hatred of you by vandalizing the common rooms.
Cartesio has become a menacing place.
In the lobby of the motel there's a few more brochures, and
the maps have been updated once again. Don't mind that some of them have been damaged in one of the attacks on the motel.
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cartesianism2018-11-04 01:52 am
DISAPPEARANCE
It's almost noon when Sting walks towards the Lodge. He has made a decision, he tolerated this for long enough and it's about time he does something about the Sergeant. His physical skills are mostly intact, even if he doesn't have his magic he should be a good match against the Sergeant. With some apprehension but no fear, Sting entered the Lodge.
A minute later, both were outside, Sting grabbing the Sergeant's arms behind his back and pushing him onto the floor. Although the Sergeant's shadowy face slams against the floor, bouncing with strength, it's clear Sting isn't trying to kill him, he's instead trying to subdue him. The Sergeant simply lets himself be manhandled and pressed against the ground while, above him, Sting makes sure he can't move.
Unfortunately that was as far as Sting had planned. Now he realized he had neglected to prepare where he would keep the Sergeant.
Hoarsely breathing, both from exhaustion and from the dust that kept clogging his lungs, Sting pulled the Sergeant up with some effort, propping and telling him he should be kept inside the Lodge, since he didn't want him anywhere near the rest of the group. Both step towards the open doors of the Lodge, and for a moment it seems Sting has succeeded...
...when he doubles over, a pang of pain in his chest. Wheezing for air, Sting coughs, expelling dust. Taking advantage of the chance he had been waiting for, the Sergeant flails, getting himself free from Sting's grasp, and turns around, a hand grabbing the back of Sting's neck to immobilize him]
...at least you didn't come to kill me. Much appreciated.
[Maybe that's why Sergeant isn't too rough with what follows next. In a swift move, he shoves Sting against the ground and presses a knee against his back, Sting trying to get away, until, in what would make anyone wonder if they missed something, Sting is pushed through the ground. One moment he's against the pavement, the next he's gone, and the Sergeant is dusting his hands off.
Once the Sergeant enters the Lodge again it's clear Sting isn't returning from whatever just happened.
Sting Eucliffe is dead]
no subject
...what a waste. [ After a few more seconds he moves on, he has pastries to eat. ]