Invader Len

Stand Still. Stay Silent.

Well... You guys could see a vermin Beast or the ilk? And like, chase it and kill it before it does any damage, maybe as a bonding thing?

Stand Still. Stay Silent.

Reykjavik

Oskar perked up when the boy mentioned food, grinning ear to ear whilst expertly quieting the growls within his own stomach.
"Aha! I was wondering when you'd ask. The canteen is this way, downstairs. If we're lucky, we may even be able to peek out of the windows before the shutters close. Not that there's much to see but water and ice, but still!" he explained, putting an arm around Otto's shoulders and steering him in the right direction.

The canteen was a large room, with several tables, benches, and cats. Loose luggage lay around here and there, either overflow from the lower compartments or people's carry on, or a mix of both. The room wasn't terribly crowded, though still lively and bustling. Oskar got both of them thick bowls of porridge and hot bread with butter, setting them down at a table by the window.
"Here we go! Fresh food! Dig in, you'll want to build up your strength. I remember when I first took the ship to Sweden, that's where this liner is from, mind you. I was a little younger than you are now, and wouldn't you know it, we were attacked by a sea beast! Whales, my boy, legend has it they were once the most beautiful and gentle of creatures. But, unfortunately, they were taken by the Illness, and now whales are no more. And more terrible than giants, they can be! Nowhere to run from a colossal behemoths on the ocean, you see! And your flamethrowers wouldn't be much use either! No need to worry, though, this ship is strong and sturdy, and whales were rare before the Illness, or so it's said. At most, there are just smaller beasts, seals and whatnot, and they can't break through the hull. Walruses, on the other hand, don't get me started!" he laughed boisterously, digging into his food like there was no tomorrow.

---

Keuruu

Suvi nodded as all the members of the team answered affirmatively, crossing her arms.
"Good. Not that I'd expect anything less from you, this is Finland. Now, no one knows what you will encounter out there, but from what we have gathered, Beasts will be in decline the further east you go. What you will need to worry about are Trolls, since the location you are going to was once a major city. And you are not to fight them by yourself, you hear? That may be what you might have been taught in your settlements, but you won't have the resources to wait for backup or retreat. From now on, you all need to fight as one, and get along with your comrades. If you die, there won't be anyone to replace you, and all of you are vital to the mission." She sternly explained.

To Arto's question, she chuckled, her demeanor changing.
"Of course, the cleanser would ask that." she teased him, leaning back in her seat.
"One of my colleagues, who used to be in the Swedish military, pulled some strings and managed to get us some weaponry and machinery. It's used, of course, perhaps a little outdated, it's from the last attempt by the Danes to reclaim their lost homeland, so, a little older than a decade or so. It should arrive in Saimaa in a few days, so worry not, we'll wait for your teammates to arrive before we go and get it, so be patient, Arto. It would arrive here sooner, but because to the size of this expedition, we needed a vehicle that could house you all, and the liners can't make it through the Keuruu-Pori waterway." she explained.
"Any other questions? And please, make sure you all talk to each other, you have a few days to get to know one another, so you should seize the opportunity."

Stand Still. Stay Silent.

I fucked up. I overestimated how much shit there was to do. BUT IM WORKING ON A POST RIGHT NOW I PROMISE YOU

Stand Still. Stay Silent.

Yup! Weekend, ahoy!

So, eeeeey everybody, I'm working on a post right now, so no problem there. I apologize for the slowness, those of you stateside are no doubt aware Thanksgiving is tomorrow (or today, if you're elsewhere on the globe, but we don't care about you), so I had a ton of shit to do. Cook food, buy food, clean space for food, invite people to eat food, etc, etc.

I also will be, for the most part, unavailable tomorrow as well, which is why I'm trying to take the opportunity to post everything today. (Chezka, McHaggis, I'll get to your stuff too, mkay?)

The Underwood Society [McHaggis & Invader Len]

Harley remained cool and unflinching as the ink on the paper changed color after signing her name, flashing green before returning black. She felt a sudden pang of anxiety, and glanced at Findley, though he seemed to take little notice of it. She quickly averted her eyes, string at the carpet on the floor as she calmed herself down. She had to calm down, she was being paranoid. No one knew anything about her past, so there was no need to worry over anything so small and silly as a change of ink's color. She smoothed her dress as Mister Findley continued speaking, looking up briefly as he exclaimed, apparently having been cut by a piece of glass.

He then pulled a long, smooth piece of wood, almost like a stick or a wand, inscribed with peculiar runes. She cocked her head to the side, curious why he had brought it out and if he intended to demonstrate anything with it, perhaps wave it like a fairy godmother and cast a spell. However, rather than belt out some silly incantation, he tossed her the stick, prompting her to react and catch it in her hands. As she turned it to get a good look at it, she felt a sudden pull towards it. Her head began to ache with a pulsing pain, a tense ball beginning to form in her brain. She could feel her vision getting blurry, but her body felt numb. The pounding of her own ear drums changed, she could make out words, chantings, drumming. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would go away, and the drumming stopped. She opened her eyes, finding herself in a completely different location. She was atop a grassy knoll, boulders jutting out and covered in dry moss. The sun was out, clouds high above white, soft, almost fluffy. She could feel the wind, warm, fresh, carrying a smell of smoke.

She turned in the direction the wind came from, a few feet away, a fire burned in a small circle of stones. Not far off, a tent made of animal bone and skin stood, painted with earthen runes and shades. She heard a humming behind her, whipping about and spotting an old man, sitting on one of the boulders. He was dressed in elaborate trappings, fur pelts and skins, moccasins and talismans. His grey hair was long and wild, bound in matted, beaded dreads. His skin seemed painted blue on his face, stripes and swirls like a fierce storm cloud. Her eyes were drawn to his hands, wrinkled, heavy, and scarred, whittling away at a rowan branch. He looked up at her, and she was shocked by his pale eyes, how white they were, like cataracts had consumed them! The surprise of seeing him jolted her out of her reverie with a gasp, as if she had been holding her breath!

She was back in the musty, dim manor, Findley in front of her and the wand clutched tightly in her trembling hands. It seemed not a second had passed since the vision began, and she looked down briefly at the object which had cased it, before flinging it away from her as hard as she could. With the force behind her arm in her panic to remove the stick from her vicinity, she had plunged it midway into the plaster wall, leaving a sizable hole. She stood up and left the room quickly, standing out in the hallway, trying to recollect herself. What was that? That trip into the past?! What had it meant, why had that stick brought it about?! That couldn't have been normal, even by supernatural standards, could it?!

The Underwood Society [McHaggis & Invader Len]

I see. And, is it important?

The Underwood Society [McHaggis & Invader Len]

So, I'm just asking here, for Harley's reaction to the oversized spooky splinter, what should she feels from it? Good vibes? Bad vibes? Clearly they're gonna be powerful vibes, if Rowan is that cocky. Just wondering if this is like, holy good like a splinter from Christ's crucifix, or evil shit, like from nosferatu's coffin.

Stand Still. Stay Silent.

Sweet. KKL, Once you have your post up, I'll do another mass post. Norwegians, you can do your thing, same with the outsiders.

Stand Still. Stay Silent.

@RangingWolf it's not necessary to include notes, if you do, please use footnote style, as I find that the paragraph style often interrupts the flow of writing and can make it a little hard to understand.

The Underwood Society [McHaggis & Invader Len]

Harley sat down by the coffee table as Mister Findley began clearing off large piles of paper, shoving them somewhat haphazardly on a chair that seemed like it better belonged in dining or ballroom. Then again, very little of the furniture seemed in place, rather than out of it. It was like a mischievous wind had swept furniture and knick knacks from all corners of the globe, from every period in history, the deposited it within the manor. Taxidermic crocodile heads upon glossed mahogany side tables, Ming dynasty vases with wilted flowers, peruvian blankets covering wrought iron chests.

Her eyes widened in curiosity as Findley brought out a seemingly very old and exquisitely ornate box. She couldn't recognize the designs on the box, they didn't seem Indian, Chinese, Egyptian, and certainly not English. They only tell tale clue was the words on it, carpe noctem. Latin for 'seize the night'.
Upon the opening of the box, Harley felt a violent shudder run through her body, shivers running down her spine like a military parade was marching over her grave. What- What was this powerful essence?! Harley could swear she heard whispered voices, speaking in languages she didn't understand. She disliked this, this uncomfortable feeling. She tried hard not to show how disturbed she was by the strange box, as Mister Findley didn't seem perturbed at all. How could one be used to this harrowing experience?

He picked up an aging book, explaining how it held the names of all the members of the exclusive society. He pointed to his own name, then quickly covered up the three below. Harley only had time to read one, the last. Elias Kerr? Traitor of the highest order? What did that mean? How exactly did one betray a secret society dedicated to the hunting of the supernatural? Run away? She opened her mouth to ask Findley, but he quickly cut her off, asking her if she was interested. She visibly stiffened when he made mention of witches, her teeth set on edge by the mere mention of the word. Recollecting herself in hopes it hadn't been noticed, she gave him a cool look, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
"... I have no interest in the old journals of so-called witches and warlocks, I only care for the science of the supernatural. I maintain my position that humans are derived through evolution, and these paranormal occurring must have a logical and scientifically acceptable answer. That being said, I hope that this society does not conflict with my work as a police consultant on valuable forensic evidence. However, if it does, know that I will chose practicality over sentimentality." she remarked somewhat snappishly, taking the quill and quickly signing her name.