maskormenacelogs | LET'S GO SURFIN' NOW

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LET'S GO SURFIN' NOW

WHO: YOU
WHERE: Heropa, Florida.
WHEN: Saturday June 13th, all day.
WHAT: A registration beach party with a bonus murder mystery game!
WARNINGS: None anticipated; please let us know if this should be edited.

PARTYING IT UP

As the imPorts flood into the entrance of this month's Swear-In, every imPort will pass by a large table with a welcome sign hung over top of it. Spread out on display are a huge pile of brochures, something that all new imPorts are heavily encouraged to read by the smiling woman manning the booth. From this point onwards, these brochures will be supplied both at Cape Carneval upon arrival, and available at every Swear-In, ready for imPort consumption.

Slap on plenty of sunscreen and put on your swimsuits, imPorts, because it's time for a good old fashioned beach party! While there are several food stations set up, they're all restricted to working with the grill, which means that there are plenty of hot dogs, hamburgers, kebabs, grilled corn and more to go around. It's messy eating, but if you need to clean yourself off, why not go for a little swim? The water's clean and clear, ready for anyone who wishes to while their time away splashing around.

Of course, there are always more competitive people afoot, and many may notice a handy buoy some ways from the shore as an excellent point to use for racing. For imPorts who are interested in a more organized affair, there are several courts set up for a spirited game of beach volleyball, battling against the city's own native population. ImPorts are asked to play fairly -- no powers allowed! Of course, some imPorts may try to sneak in a power or two, but wouldn't be much fun to cheat against people who have no way of retaliating, now would it? For those who enjoy their feats of daring, pits of red-hot coals are set up - and carefully supervised - for anyone who wishes to try their hand at it, though a medical tent isn't too far off. Once everyone's properly overheated from all that exercise, swimming races will be held, a faraway buoy serving as the finish line.

Not too interested in joining in on all of those people sweating and running around? Not to worry! Huge, white tents dot the generous expanse of beach, fully equipped with lounge chairs and tables for people to take their food to. Along the beach itself are several colourful, fluffy beach towels, just waiting for anyone hoping to get a nice tan out of the day.

Once the games start to wrap up and the sun begins to fall, the beach will be transformed into a place not for competition, but for camaraderie. Firepits will be set up, framed with logs used for seating, and all the ingredients for s'mores will be freely provided! Sit around the fire for a spell, make some s'mores, play a little music and tell a few stories before the day slowly draws to a close.

A BEACHSIDE MURDER MYSTERY

As 5 PM strikes, all participants in the murder games will be ushered away from the festivities on the beach into a somber looking tent, cordoned off from everyone else. Inside is a lavish enough spread to make one forget that they're still technically on the same grounds as a beach party. The long, intimidating looking table has a pristine white tablecloth draped over it, and each place at the table is set with expensive looking plates and cutlery, with the silver candelabras in the middle of the table setting the mood.

Each imPort will have been given their role in the whole affair before their arrival, so all that's left to do is take a seat, nibble on the hors d'oeuvres and start getting to know each other... and to hope that they're not the first ones killed. The prizes for winning include an all-expense-paid condo in the winner's Porter city of choice, as well as a brand new hovercar; should both killers win, they will be expected to share this prize. Should the voters win, more cars and up to three more condos will be added to the prize pool to be dispersed/shared evenly among the winners.

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[ Don't feel bad. D'Artagnan isn't wearing beach clothes either, but it's more because he doesn't actually have any. He's pulled off his shirt and boots, and rolled his new skinny jeans up to his knees. That's close enough. ]

Can you blame them? There are worse things they could be doing.

[ He slides up beside her, folding his arms over his chest and looking quite significantly bronzed in the sun. He likes this, strangely enough. Florida's weather had seemed horribly sticky to him at first, but after a few weeks, he's starting to think he might actually like it. ]

You might like it more if you joined in. [ Eyes sliding to her. ] But of course, if you're afraid to lose a swimming race, well...I suppose I can't blame you.

I can certainly not. It's likely the only reasonable cause to be out here in Florida at all.

[ He may as well be wearing only swim trunks, considering a pair of rolled up jeans cover about the same there. Thank the Maker for sunglasses, because she can look up at D'Artagnan as well as appreciatively without it being entirely obvious.

Although, she'll go from to an eyeroll as she looks back towards the water's edge. She still sounds amused, of course, but really? ]

And, no, I'm not afraid of losing a swimming race.

[ She already knows she'd lose. Those nanites work fast, but, damn, she got thrown into a lot of really solid things over a week ago. Of course, she isn't about to admit that. ]

[ D'Artagnan rolls his eyes back to look at her. Her glasses are obscuring a lot, but he can work with that. ]

Well then, what's the problem? Unless of course you can't swim.

[ With the way he says that, it's questionable whether even that technicality would stop him. He smirks at her. ]

Come on, Hawke. The heat feels better when you've been in the sea. Trust me.

[ The scoff she gives is mock offended, although Hawke still gives him a look. Which. Again, with the sunglasses. ]

I'll have you know I can swim just fine. [ But she is closing her book. ] Is it very common for you to goad women into taking their shirts off and going swimming where you're from?

[ He knew that would work; his look is definitely triumphant. He’s also not letting her away with that comment, and he holds up a hand. ]

Who said anything about taking your shirt off? I didn’t. This – [ gesturing at the beach in general ] – is not my dress code. You can wear what you like.

Anyway, I thought you’d rather I treat you like a warrior. If you’d prefer that I be a gentleman instead, you only need to say.

Well! When you put it that way...

[ She'll set the book aside and get up and, even though he's right and it is this world's dress code for large beach gatherings, getting her shirt soaked is useless.

Besides, how different can it be from stripping and jumping in a lake back home? You know, aside from the literal hundreds of people also being here. So! The garish Hawaiian shirt is coming off as well, to be left beside the book, although, in a two-piece? That does reveal the still-fading bruising from the week's previous outbreaks of insane fighting. ]

Warrior is by far preferable.

[ Or mage, but she gets what he means. ]

[ Oh, well. Apparently she doesn’t mind stripping after all. He instinctively drops his eyes away. D’Artagnan isn’t modest, by the standards of his own world, but that doesn’t mean he’s used to women looking like that.

Of course, then he sees her bruises, and he looks up again with sympathy. ]

You were fighting.

[ He starts to head back down to the water, but talks over his shoulder to her. ]

Last week, during that business with the rings?

[ Ah, yes, the fighting. ]

I was out knocking heads together, if that's what you mean. Everyone was losing if over those things.

[ But she won't let some already healing injuries keep her from the water, now that she's decided to go for a swim. She trails along after him, thumbs tucked into the pockets of the shorts she definitely won't be taking off. The shirt was one thing, the rest stays on. ]

But you weren't. Losing it, I mean.

[ He was. It affected him strongly, meshing so easily with the anger that always lives under his skin that he didn't even notice what was happening. Athos did, which is lucky. He'd probably have hurt someone otherwise. ]

How did you avoid that? A fighter like you. I'd have thought you'd be right in its sights.

[ If that's even the right terminology. Can a ring have a will of its own? That's how it had seemed. ]

Mage, if you want to be precise, though I am far less squishy than the usual Circle variety. That said, a mage that "loses it", as you put it, doesn't usually come back, so you might say I have a bit of training towards resistance, at least against other magic.

[ It's complicated and full of words and scary things that she probably doesn't want to explain to him, at least for his own peace of mind. The last thing anyone needs is to be thinking about demons and abominations when they just wanted to go swimming for fun. ]

Edited 2015-06-27 16:54 (UTC)

So other magic doesn't touch you so easily. You're lucky.

[ He already misses the days when he didn't believe in anything of the sort. He even chafes under those words now.

Reaching the water, he wades straight in. He's not taking his pants off either, don't worry. ]

I wish I did. It got under my skin far too easily. It's not something I'd be keen to repeat.

It can still hurt me quite a bit. Magic that touches the mind, though, we have that. It's something I keep an eye out for.

[ Whatever the rings were wasn't blood magic, pre se, but she'd taken note, even if she couldn't pinpoint the source. Magic from other worlds, it just keeps getting trickier.

Into the water she goes, still following along, and he'd been right. It does feel better to be in the water on such a hot day, the chill better than anything the shade could offer. So she'll keep going, at least until she's deep enough to easily reach the water's surface and flick a splash of it at him with a hand. ]

I wish there was a way I could help you with that, but I can't do much to ward other people against such powers. It can be easier to handle if you don't carry anything that can be easily picked at, though. On your mind, I mean. Not literally.

[ Yes, that’s the trouble. Magic that touched the mind. He’s never had to deal with anything like it before, and unfortunately, it’s quite easy to manipulate d’Artagnan’s temper even when you don’t have magic on your side.

Which is her point, he supposes. He presses his lips together and splashes her back. They’re deep enough that he’s now treading water instead of wading. ]

I didn’t realise anything could pick at it. Not like that. Do you know they didn’t even arrest him for it?

[ That’s ridiculous, as far as he’s concerned. He swims out a bit further, liking the chill of the water over his shoulders. ]

So I heard. I suppose there's nowhere in their myriad of laws that says he can't pass out extremely dangerous magic rings. Bit of an oversight...

[ D'Artagnan hadn't even thought of that, in all fairness. Could it be possible that Lucifer hadn't actually broken any laws? ]

You'd think that would fall under illegal arms dealing, or something. They'd have to be classed as weapons, wouldn't they? And I'm sure there's a law against that. We wouldn't allow it in Paris, anyway.

Paris? That Orlesian city? [ Something she's aware of solely because they realized France was basically Orlais. She's taken a look at that map once or twice. ] Well, fake Orlesian. I thought you sounded awfully familiar...

[ But that's one big tangent looming on the horizon, so she'll just shrug and... hang on. She holds up a hand as a 'one moment' gesture, then goes under the water. She won't be down long, she's just retrieving something from the bottom, then she's splashing back up. ]

Ha. One that isn't broken! [ A sand dollar! The dead variety, thankfully. No urchins still attached. ] And in a world that lacks magic, I would not hold out the hope for new laws labelling magical items as arms of any sort. They don't know any better.

[ Wait a second. What did she just call him?! D'Artagnan frowns, and corrects her while she's diving in and out of the water. Should he be offended? He's offended. ]

I'm not from Orleans. I'm from Lupiac, in Gascony. And I thought you didn't know it?!

[ She's a sorceress, an actual real and living sorceress. She clearly isn't from his own world.

Speaking of which. ]

And they are arms. Considering how much damage they did, or almost did. What is that thing?

[ He nods at the sand dollar. ] A shell?

I don't know of any of those places, but I have looked France up on the internet.

[ That's right. The actual real and living sorceress knows how to use Google. Thank you, futuristic space friends. Anyway, googling aside, she grins and holds the sand dollar out to him. ]

Not exactly. It's a sea cookie. [ Still a sand dollar here, but that isn't exactly a word for money they have back home for her. ] They're some kind of sea urchin, but they leave these behind when they die off.

[ D'Artagnan reaches for it and turns it over. It looks a lot like a shell to him. ]

Do you eat it?

[ Because she called it a cookie. He looks very dubious, indicating that he hopes not. ]

I thought you could use them to hear the sea.

[ He holds it up to his ear, but of course hears nothing. ]

Those places are in France. And what's wrong with that, by the way?

Do you-- no!

[ Hawke laughs at him. Hawke laughs even harder when he holds it up to his ear, but she at least raises a hand to try and stifle it, turning away some. It doesn't help much, but the attempt was made! ]

It's just a kind of shell! One an animal used to live in! [ D'Artagnan, please. Okay, okay, laughter tapering off. ] And, no, nothing. Nothing's exactly wrong with France, only we have a country of people who sound very much like you do.

[ D'Artagnan stops trying to hear anything in the shell. ]

You know, I'll bet sailors make a killing from this sort of thing.

[ He flicks water at her. Is it obvious he's never been to a beach before? Because he's never been to a beach before. ]

Let me guess. Your people are at war with this country-that-sounds-like-France?

I'm not sure many sailors stop to wander beaches and pick up random items off the sandy shores.

[ Well, he doesn't seem to be drowning needlessly, so no, not really. Anyway, she flicks water right back at him. ]

But you can keep it, if you want. [ There'll always be other ones. ] And no, not anymore. Orlais did brutally occupy Ferelden for some time, though, so you can imagine a lot of bad blood remains between them.

[ Lakes, he knows. And rivers. And fortress moats, and actually let’s not talk about that last one, because that water was disgusting. He’ll take one of these beaches any day.

He shrugs, and keeps hold of the shell. ]

I can imagine. My people have had bad blood with the Spanish for some time now. It blossomed into war before I came here.

Is Ferelden your land?

Originally, although I did have to go north after some unruly neighbors moved in. At least for a little while.

Your world is as busy as mine.

[ But she had to move countries just because someone else invaded? He doesn't have it quite that bad. ]

What do you do there, what's your job?

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