MOCK WEEK

[strangerpeople]

MOCK WEEK

[Awaken.

Fifteen strangers have been gathered to the Depths. When they awaken, they will feel nauseous in their stomachs. No doubt confused. Perhaps, even terrified. And certainly, there is a good reason for it - they are not where they were before. If they had powers back where they came from, they seem to be all gone. And it appears that someone has left...guidelines for them. Who? Its uncertain. So far, there seems to be no one else save for them in this hot and stuffy place. No...'intercessor' to be seen yet, certainly.

There are a few small graces for this group, at least. Their memories are intact. And, perhaps, they will discover the power that their Title brings to them. But these are only small graces.

So welcome.

There are fifteen strangers in this place.]


((OoC: Welcome to Mock Week! If you have any questions at all, feel free to PM here, or on plurk! And, feel free to join our handy dandy Discord chat!

EDIT: For clarification characters only know their own titles unless they are told otherwise by the character with the title, or by the Intercessor!))

Comments

[intercessing]

There is not.

I'm afraid those who have written the rules do not see leniency towards those like you as anything but a waste of time.

[reverseit]

Like me?

[ Her voice raises in vocal tone at the end. ]

What do you mean by that?

[intercessing]

You are...Titled, are you not, Schemer?

[Their head tilts slightly towards the others.]

That is what I mean. You who have been granted these...Titles.

[reverseit]

And these Titles make us special.

[ She shakes her head. No, that's not right. She corrects herself. ]

Different.

[intercessing]

Both. Your...Titles are quite a bit of both.

[Back towards Akane.]

Do you find such a concept remiss?

[reverseit]

[ She sucks in a breath at the question. ]

I... don't know.

[intercessing]

...I see.

[A pause before they place their spoon down to take a small drink of their beer.]

Perhaps once you are used to your Title you will have a clearer answer for yourself. Time. It is, as they say, the irreversible forward march towards an end.

[Another pause, before they speak again a slight lilt in their rasping. One could almost imagine a wry smile in that void of a face.]

Well.

Most time is, at least.