RP: Island of Outcasts

[enigma]

"Oh, really? That sounds like a pretty great place."

A place where no-one locks their doors and everyone trusts their neighbours. It's funny because that means I can just walk up to them and shoot their faces clean through their heads.

[Topaz]

This was pretty confusing. Logically, and the voice was good at logic, arms should be free. Oh well, that's not a problem anymore. Azrael wiped away the message with her foot, looked straight at Lucy and gave a quick nod. She was about to write another message when the other person over there interrupted by speaking.

No friends if killed? But friends = killing. But killing friends = no friends. This person is impossible. Impossible. I can't think. My head hurts. I'm angry. Angry. Kill.

Calm down, no killing just yet. Maybe later. For now, be nice to everyone.

Be nice. Nice. Calm down. Nice. Calm. Nice. Nice and calm. Yes.

Azrael looked up at the person over there. For a good minute she just stared, even though her eyes were shut. She stared and stared until her thought process had finally reached a conclusion. Nice = Friends. Calm = Friends. Nice and calm = Friends and friends. After this had been decided, Azrael lifted her hand and gave a thumbs up. Her face was still emotionless, though. With her other hand, she wrote a new message in the dirt.

"NICE TO MEET YOU FRIEND"

[ZetaAzuel]

Zythest looked down at the message. Was the thing mute? Zythest shrugged as he crouched down to write a reply in the dirt.

Nice to meet you too. he wrote. "That's boring, you want to be boring? Boring is no good." Jost said to him as he then erased the entire message with his extended gooey arm. "Here let me take care of this."

After playing in the ground a little bit he made the message, We are absolutely happy to see that you're here, and that you're sane. :3

"Did you really have to add the weird face?"

"It's my trade mark :3"

[Sleuth]

Idiots. Why were they stirring up thoughts of home? Not that he remembered much of Fantasia. No, it had merely been a place he lived. Nicer than Modernia, and had less criminals than here, but... No, this was home now. These people were pissing him off.

Briar shot his blank glance at the straitjacket girl. She seemed to want it on; was she some sort of masochist? He hated them; it always made stabbing them really awkward. He didn't get those people. Meanwhile there was a man with living goop flowing around him, a guy with a monocole, a sewn-up mute girl (?), a long-haired woman, the fairy from before, an overly peppy girl, and a random... Person. What a great haul. It seemed like no one else cared to do anything useful, so Briar was about ready to return to his hammock and defend whatever monstrocity might be there at the moment.

"...I don't know (or care) how long you guys have been on this island for," Briar muttered, "But judging by the fact that you're all chatting about like morons, I'm guessing most of you are new here. So, I suppose I'm curious enough to ask: what are you all here for?"

[Topaz]

Azrael felt like the new new new person's question was also directed at her. It wouldn't be nice to ignore friends.

What did I do?

567 counts of murder. 234 counts of attempted murder.

The voice knew. The voice was right, so Azrael told the new new new person by writing this in the dirt.

"567 MURDER

234 ALMOST MURDER"

She then looked up at the new new new person and gave them a thumbs up too.

[Sleuth]

"You kept track? That's rather impressive. No wonder they don't want you hanging around." Briar replied. He wasn't quite sure how to respond to the person's gesture, so he merely replied by mirroring her thumbs up. "My count was a lot lower, but I think the people were 'worth' more. To society, I mean. I don't really get it, but apparently certain people are worse to kill than others. I guess."

Briar finished his statement with a shrug. He really couldn't wrap his head around it, so why bother? At any rate, the girl (he decided it was easier to go with that) seemed to be friendly enough. He didn't see any need to stab her right now.

[NihilisticNinja]

Altraxia spun around once, twice... three times, the sun flashing off her red boots. Yay! That silly intuition had no idea what it was going on about. All that quick planning was pointless, and now she had a new friend. Sleeping Friend (Yes, she decided to give them titles. It would work far better than that silly numbering system!) was going to be perfectly nice, and kind, and friendly. And friendly people were happy people. So nothing to worry about. (At least for now. If this person got very unhappy... well... Altraxia would cross that bridge when she came to it. For now... live in the moment!).

It appeared that Sleeping Friend understood perfectly- if you wanted to have friends, you both had to make sure they were happy and keep them alive. She thinks Sleeping Friend forgot about that last part for a moment. That was where the problem lay. Well, now Sleeping Friend had remembered, and everything was fine again. However... actually... calling this person Sleeping Friend could be vague and annoying. Perhaps she should...

However, before she could finish that thought, Friend #1 (She couldn't think of a clever title for this friend... so back to the number system!) was asking what they were here for? Well... she wasn't sure why it was so important, but why not?

"Well... that would be... 42 counts of murder, and 17 counts of attempted murder." She said calmly, mindlessly twirling her hair.

[Sleuth]

"17 attempted? You mean you didn't actually kill them?" Briar asked. "I only ask because it's a rather odd statistic to include. Otherwise I wouldn't really care."

Briar's mind began working on multiple theories as to why this could be; though one thing seemed to be for certain: the happy ones WERE always crazy. A good sign for him, then. 'Sociopathy'. Ha.

[NihilisticNinja]

Altraxia tilted her head. "Well, yeah! I mean, I wanted to be veee~eery careful about keeping track about the people I failed to kill, because I didn't want to get confused and try to kill them again! That could just end up screwing everything up." She nodded knowingly.

[DLA]

"As for me, one count of murder, one count of attempted murder. I'm telling you, though, I did neither! The attempted murder was my cousin Frederick, and the murder was an accident I had no involvement in! The Magician's Alliance just doesn't understand my genius, so they decide to frame me for murder when it was faulty locks!" Zachary said with a frown. So far it was going very well. This was the moment of truth. If they believed him here, it was smooth sailing from then on.

[Sleuth]

Briar tilted his head, his face still as blank as ever. "...Well I suppose that's one way of thinking about it. You seem to be happy with your method, so I'll let you alone with that."

He was rather certain that whatever her motifs were, he wouldn't be able to understand them. He could barely understand how people sat in chairs with both legs on the ground. Meanwhile, there was Monocole Man; the one who seemed to think he was a storybook character in a rather racist assumption. Not that he really cared, but the word "racist" seemed to push buttons. He turned his gray eye stare at him.

"It doesn't really matter if you're guilty or innocent," Briar stated, "If you're here, you've simply gotta get busy living or get busy dying. There are plenty of ways to go here; giant flies, poisoned fruit, and don't even get me started on the weather... I saw a man get snapped up whole by a sea monster once. Finding a safe water pit is nigh impossible."

Briar stated this all with a matter-of-fact tone, not really concerned for himself. After all, he had a knife, his wits, and a pair of good legs; he was more interested in knowing how the others planbed to survive.

[Gav]

The docks of the Island of Outcasts were used only to deliver criminals to their sentences. Once every month, a boatload of 9 criminals would come to the island, and when it left, only one person was on it - the navigator. However, a different ship had pulled into the Island of Outcasts this morning. It was the ship of John and Jane Smith, husband and wife, archeological partners, master meat cookers. And, by complete coincidence, the duo were extortionists. Yes, that's right, THEY WERE CRIMINALS. And they never got caught.

John Smith had left the boat at around 4 AM that morning. It had taken him nearly an hour to make sense of the map provided at the docks (given to all criminals or the impossible visitor), and 3 to make his way to the village where the remaining Outcasts lived. And, as he stood 10 feet from the entrance, he thought...

...A muffin? They're fighting over a muffin? Now I've seen it all.

Slightly creeped out but not discouraged, John stepped into the village and yelled "Outcasts! Can you all hear me!"

[enigma]

"Oh, good morning. It's a great day, isn't it? What brings you here, friend?"

I want to cut his whole body apart and leave him to rot. He wants to act like he's better than me? He wants to play pretend and insult me by calling me an outcast? I'll remove his whole lower body and dance in his entrails. And then rip off his face. ASSHOLE! COME INTERRUPT MY ISLAND?! CALL ME AN OUTCAST?! One day you'll be found alone in a jungle with no abdomen and your guts splattered all over the floor like s***** noodles. Chow mein. I'll gouge your eyes out and spit in the black empty holes that lead to what you call a brain and your whole face will be destroyed. It will be a weekend. Because weekends are good days.

I swing up my hands and wave airily. Carefree looking. And I also grin. I grin when I hate people. I think it's funny how people are swayed by a friendly, bright grin. The IDIOTS will trust you even if you come to tehir door with a cleaver asking for a cup of milk. And it's even better when they think you're their friend or you like them. Dogs bite their "masters". I slit the bellies of my friends.

[Sleuth]

Briar's etes flashed red for a brief second. A ship... A chance to escape. Oh, it would be far too easy. All it would take is a few quick stabs and it was his. Escape was so near, he could taste it... Sorta tasted like muffins. But... Wait. Where would he go? What would he do? People would still try to catch him and he couldn't run forever. The excitement vanished. Nah. I like it here. Even so...

"Outcasts?" Briar said, slowly walking towards the Man, "Is that to say that you're not from here? Because I have a feeling you wouldn't call us 'outcasts' unless you yourself were not one, as then you'd simply shout something like 'hey'. 'Outcasts' is a very specific term; not 'criminals' or 'prisoners' either, implying that perhaps you do not suspect that we are guilty of wrongdoing. You also came out here with very little protection, meaning you either believe we will do you no harm, or you have a means of defending yourself not immediately noticable. You also seem fairly confident that an island full of not only hardened criminals but harsh and terrible natural monstrocities will not kill you... and your ship made it past the sea monsters as well. Ultimately, what I'm asking is..."

Briar's eyes flashed red again. "...What do you want, human?"

[DLA]

"Outcasts? I guess I fit that description." he said to the man. "Prisoner might be more accurate, though." he shuffled his deck of cards. "Pick a card, any card, sir! I shall use my prestidigitation and find your card! But first, what is your name, and why have you come here? I'm sure you didn't come just to witness my powers of illusion. If I had known someone would come, I would have brought one of my finest escapes! Of course, I'm not sure they'd let me bring it here, as this is supposed to be a prison sentence. So, why did you come here?" he said, keeping up the act all the while. Hopefully this man would be entertaining. Otherwise he'd probably kill him.