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Cradle of Forest RPG

Where: Silent Hill Historical Society Who: Sokka, and anyone else.…

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Sokka - Darkness
Where: Silent Hill Historical Society
Who: Sokka, and anyone else. Open.



Sokka walked around the historical society, peeking at the pictures and artifacts. Why was he here? Ugh, he didn't know ... He jsut found the bilding and it looked promising.


He wanted to know why he was here, and why he couldn't leave. He figured this place could give him some ideas, some sort of vague idea...


But the air here made his brain hurt and it was hard to concentrate. It was so oppressive; he felt like his head was in a vice...
  • Heather was looking around in the art room. She was hoping for some clues with a book. Was there prior pictures or something.

    Just something like a tiny clue. Maybe a Rosetta painting. She had her machine gun unstrapped and was not taking anything lightly.

    She felt like she was playing tomb raider. Well except she had a machine gun. Heh heh heh , last laugh would be on the monsters that came close.
    • Probably unfortunately for Sokka, he heard rustling in the next room and was put on-edge. He grabbed his boomerang and headded for the door of the room, and to the next one where he could swear he heard the foot steps.

      He crept up behind the silhouette. He couldn't see who it was, but... He didn't know if they were friend or foe.
  • Heather ducked behind a desk. Looked over from the corner to see Sokka and breathed a sigh of relief.

    "Hay , Sokka it's ok I'm human." She stepped out. Restrapped her gun not wanting to shoot sokka.

    • Sokka had his boomerang poised and ready. At her words, however, he restrapped it, laughing nervously with relief.

      "Oh, thank god, " he rubbed the back of his head, nervously. Heather... It was just Heather. Nothing to worry about... They had seen each other before, but never really for a long time. A 'Hi my name is sokka' and a 'hi my name is heather' was all that was excahanged then. But at least he recognized her face.
  • Asian Heather could only laugh. "I think I was another nationality when you saw me." She stepped closer. Maybe not there was an odd dream in the in between stages where she coud swear she saw him.

    "So what brings you to this dark place?"

    She looked at the curators desk and found lemon juice. There was a painting that was almost pure white. Looked aged as well. Perhaps just perhaps this was a clue.
    • "I thought I could find something here," he started to explain, rubbing his chin in thought. "I wanted to know why we were all gathered here and why I, personally, can't leave no matter how hard I try. I thought maybe the historical society would have something."

      He looked her over. Yeah, she did seem different. But how is it possible for someone to switch nationalities like a chameleon changes colors...?

      "What brought you here? Were you drawn by it's charisma?" he asked, jokingly.
  • "I am too, I am also looking for old paintings."

    She paused not wanting to mention the book . The way here she had been gunning down monsters. She thought of having a tee shirt that said Valtiel is my arms dealer.


    "This is one weird place."
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