wavewalker: (swashbuckler)
A: PHONE: AFTERNOON

Grady- Olney- whoever he was- is dead. I know some of you won't be surprised by the news. It was broadcast to the town at large, after all. Others have likely mentioned it as well.

He was found floating in the pool at the recreation center- which some of likely already know as well. Half of his face had been blown off, but he was still alive- for all intents and purposes. I gather he wasn't allowed to die. I wasn't the first person to run across him, and I doubt I was the last.

He wouldn't tell me anything, but did he share anything with anyone else? Anything at all.

B: ACTION: 754 PARTRIDGE DRIVE

[ Anyone in the vicinity of 754 Partridge Drive will notice something a little strange in the backyard. Ian got a regain in the mail, you see, and when he opened the package he got, this suddenly sprouted from the top of the doghouse.

Ian can be seen traveling up and down the mast all day, for various reasons. At one point he travels up there with a large wad of black cloth. A little tinkering, and soon there's a flag flying proud, peeking over the top of the house. ]
wavewalker: (where Tragedy goes)
Let's see, we've been locked in, with no way to get out of the house- and believe me, I've tried- and someone is shoving food beneath our proverbial doors. This place is suddenly feeling more like a prison than it was yesterday. I hope this isn't the new norm.

[ background noise would suggest he's moving- heading for the front door where the turkeys lay ]

I'm hearing a lot of commotion- something to do with the turkeys. Has anyone run across one that doesn't try to kill you in any way, shape, or form?

[ suddenly! an ear-splitting shriek, and a clatter as the phone hits the floor ]
wavewalker: (stop the boat I want off)
[ Today we find our intrepid Raptori pirate, still in his too-big borrowed clothes, around the shops in town. Namely the clothing shops, since giving up limbs or memories at the post office in exchange for clothes that actually fit doesn't seem like much of a fair trade to him.

Every time he enters a shop, though, he is quickly chased out by the drones therein, usually wielding brooms or rolled newspapers. Sometimes he's hauled bodily out of the store, while the drone scolds him and tells him "no dogs allowed".

It's becoming very frustrating. ]


Later, after some fumbling, a phone call goes out to the town: )

((ooc; Run into him on the street or talk to him on the phone, whichever!))

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Ian Wavewalker

December 2020

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