There are some more restaurants around, all more high-end then the japanese place. They tower over that building and are much better kept. The ones not immediately next to that stinking building have much higher traffic then those placed next to it...

Nobody is getting in your way, but lots of people who were freaking out before, now think you are a cosplayer and so are asking for pictures..

A beautiful woman comes up to you to ask for a picture.

Ahhhhh. Things smelled much better out here. He still couldn't read anything to do more than guess what cuisines were being served where, but the improvement in the smells was worth not being able to read, he felt. God, that place had had a putrid dumpster... how anyone could sleep there was a miracle in itself. Of course, dreams didn't need to make sense.

Uladzislau was quite happy to oblige with the request to be photographed with such a lovely lady, posing to meet her request(s).

The woman snapped the button on her camera's phone, taking the picture... Then, she surprised him.

"Spasibo" she said, thanking him in his native tongue. She smiled and walked off.

Although he couldn't seem to read, as that's how it often is in dreams, he did get an indication of where he was when he looked over the roofs of the buildings and could just make out the Statue of Liberty in the distance.

He was in New York City, baby! What a dream!

Oh! The famous Statue of Liberty? So that was where this dream was set, New York City, the gigantic American metropolis. Wait... he'd come to America, and arrived in New York City, hadn't he? Bits of memory of the plane flight across the Atlantic, and before that being in Edinburgh changing planes surfaced. But why had he been going to the United States? He couldn't remember that yet.

No matter. The hulking red barbarian that he was in his 'dream' sauntered down the sidewalk, seeing the sights and smelling the smells, hearing chatter and music alike as people went about their ways. With no goal in mind, he just explored, maybe seeking barbaric misadventure and misunderstanding in this civilized land.

A cheeky American squirrel chattered at him from atop a parked car's hood, wanting a handout of food that he didn't have to give. He snarled theatrically at it, and watched the bushy tail bolt away for safety.

(Just tell me when you want an encounter, 'til then we'll do some general roleplaying)

The man who believed he was dreaming, and everyone else thought was a really good cosplayer wandered through the streets, nobody was freaking out anymore, having it in their heads now that it was just make up and lots of protein shakes that made him this way. Everything else was a prop or lighting effects, if they couldn't explain it.

However, his blissful trip was cut short when he felt something odd, something you don't usually feel when dreaming.. He got hungry and his stomach growled... That's odd...

Focusing on it, it was definitely hunger... Not something else... Perhaps this was usual for lucid dreams, being aware that you're dreaming for sure is... but real sensations?

Could he feel pain? Would it even hurt him... How odd... Then, again, he could eat whatever he wanted and not gain weight, because it was all just a dream... yeah...

Food. The first thing that came to mind was a nice tureen of borscht and some krupenik, but he had no idea where in dream-New York to even start looking for Eastern European foods. Did he have any money with him? He checked his fur costume, but found neither money nor wallet. Nor his passport and visa, but you didn't normally need those in dreams.

Well, he could get even more into character and raid some place? However, while acting like a barbarian was fun, his morals still got in the way where stealing from shops came to mind. For now.

Swiping fruit from a tree hanging over a wall, though... he had no qualms with.


OOC: Feel free to drop an encounter on me anytime you wish.

(understood. I'll brew up some ideas :D)

This was a considerably nicer part of town, but there still wasn't much in terms of outdoor vegetation... However, he got lucky- or perhaps his subconscious kicked in- and he came across a french-style café with two grape-vines growing on a special piece of wood left out for display.

They grapes from the former bush were some of the sweetest grapes he had ever tasted, and the ones from the latter were so sour it made him squeal and hurt his glands.

Inside, they were selling fine liquor, if he had any interest. As well as baked goods and french onion soup which they were famous for.

Ummmmm, grapes. The barbarian tasted both vines, grimacing at the extreme sourness of the unripe grapes of the second one. He smelled fresh baked bread, and a complex oniony scent in the air.

The first vine had ripe fruit ready to eat, so it was the one he went after, shoving a bunch of grapes into his mouth and masticating it without pulling the bunch off of the vine, like he was some animal. After finishing the bunch, he did try to pluck it off to keep from contaminating grapes still on the plant for others, though. Only to see the stems healing before his eyes.

Unsure of what that meant in the dream, he sauntered up to the window of the café and peered in through it, shielding his eyes with one hand to get a better look.

The place was fairly packed, but had a very calm attitude and a No Noise policy, so everything was hushed and relaxed. People enjoyed their morning coffees, and others were having an early lunch.

It was almost serene.

Foods and drinks. People enjoying themselves quietly. Somehow, the arm and hand with his ring on it felt offended by the serenity, while the rest of him mostly approved of it. His stomach grumbled again.

Against his better judgement, had he been awake, Uladzislau opened the door and went inside, Woundhealer resting lightly against one shoulder in his other hand. There was bread in here, definitely.

People saw the guy walk in and started muttering to one another about how good that cosplay looked.

The woman saw him approaching and asked if he'd like anything to eat or drink. She complimented his get-up.

A man watched suspiciously from a table in the corner of the room... he was... somewhat familiar

That fellow in the corner looked familiar, somehow.

Uladzislau thanked the hostess for the compliment, though he didn't realize that he spoke in Dutch doing it (though his accent was unchanged). He indicated the corner table where the sort-of familiar man was, with a finger, then headed towards him if not told not to. The ring glinted malevolently under the lights.

The woman looked at him funny when he spoke in Dutch, but didn't say anything. New York was more or less a global city, so there was no surprise that some people would prefer to speak in languages other than English. The woman responded with "Graag Gedaan" after flipping through a few pages of her International Server's Book, clearly taking her minimum wage job with utmost seriousness.

Nobody in the restaurant prevented Uladzislau from approaching the man, but when the man noticed you were coming, his eyes opened wide and he began to hurriedly finish his coffee, before stepping out of his chair to leave.

Another waiter caught him doing so, and having not paid his check yet, the man called out to the man attempting to flee from you.

He tries to run past you.

Blood Red Sandman's free hand (the one not holding Woundhealer; the one with the ring on its' finger) reached out to grab the man before he could get past.

Red light spat off the ring, and a few chords of his namesake song radiated with the sparks.

"Left too soon?" the barbarian asked in guttural English.

The man's fear overtook him, and without moving his mouth, he yelled out a name, just like a ventriloquist:

"「Rain Song」!", and with that utterance, a ghostly figure appeared behind him. It's chest was a slowly-swirling vortex of gorgeous cyan liquid, and it's limbs were floral-patterned umbrellas, it's head was a unblemished silver teapot that reflected every iota of the room back into Uladzislau's eyes.

The man spat out his hot coffee, and the stand mimicked the spitting motion. A volume of coffee greater than that which had been drunk sprayed into the barbarian's face and upper chest, burning him as hard as heated oil would have. The wounds themselves bubbled and blistered, and the skin in the surrounding area melted... The light spray had gone nearly as deep as his muscular tissue, and if he hadn't closed his eyes out of reflex, he would have been permanently blinded.

The worst part, however, was that the pain felt entirely real... It was so painful that it would have woken him up from the deepest slumber, he could feel his face sizzling and the molten skin lazily drooping down his face and onto his upper lips, searing them and leaving sores.

The man would try to escape the barbarian's grasp.

The worst part was that the pain was... delicious. Horrible and ghastly as it hurt, it also seemed to whet a hunger he hadn't known he had.

The ring burned brilliantly, the crimson light feeding on the barbarian's agony. Words spoke themselves in Uladzislau's head, but he couldn't hear them through the pain, the horror, the shock. This was the worst nightmare he'd ever had!

His hand holding onto the man tightened as if trying to crush the bones, and his sword hand convulsed, bringing Woundhealer off of his shoulder through his own head and into an arc through the air heedless of who or what it struck.

He bellowed in pain from what the coffee had done, and started to go berserk.

The man clawed at the red-skinned monster's arm as the sword came striking down, but he flinched in his last moment, tears welling up in his terrified eyes. Then, the sword passed through him harmlessly, much to the discontent of the blood-crazed barbarian.

The people in the café saw the commotion and when they saw with their own eyes the supernatural blade, and the real burns on the man's face, hysteria insued, and the restaurant was emptied in seconds.

"Wh-what the helll... " the man sobbed, before gathering an iota of courage and begging for his life, "M-man, please stop.. you gotta calm down... I-i understand... what's happening to you... P-please do-dont!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:36, Sat 05 Oct 2019.

Bestial snarls and bellows were all that answered the man's plea, and the sword swung again and again through him harmlessly. Madness filled Uladzislau's eyes, the blood madness of the barbarian he had become.

But it was not something that he could sustain for long, and when sanity snapped back he sat down hard where he was, letting go of both man and sword. Gasping, fatigued, utterly confused, and for the first time today aware that he was not dreaming. Which was much worse than thinking that he was.

The man shook for a moment, and groped himself to make sure he wasn't hurt.

Then, he sat down next to the man instead of fleeing.

"I'm sorry this is happening to you." he said, "I don't know how you got this power.... but it's got something to do with an organization in this city" he informed Uladzislau.

"You can't get involved with them. They... rule this place, and they're evil" he told him.

"You're a stand user now. Your stand isn't like something I've seen before... but, from what I can tell, it's probably a Bound or Automatic Stand... It's either something you can't physically touch... or an item with a stand bound to it..." he said.

"After this scene, there'll be people after us. We need to flee. Come with me, I know how to avoid these people... I've been doing it for three years" he said. "My name is Miguel Martinez" he said. "But I haven't used that name since they found out about me" he said, offering the man his hand.

Uladzislau blinked a few times, trying to understand what Miguel meant. Stand? Like a pedestal for a statue? It didn't make sense, but that was a pretty good description of everything since he awoke by the dumpster.

Miguel's name meant nothing to him, beyond being Spanish. Why he seemed vaguely familiar still eluded his befogged barbarian mind.

Somewhat unsteadily, Uladzislau accepted the proffered hand and struggled back to his booted feet.

"My name is Uladzislau Stankevich," he introduced himself quietly as he retrieved Woundhealer from the floor. While quite uncertain of what was going on, and wary after those burns, for the moment he was accepting Miguel's suggestion to flee and would go with him.

The man nodded, and began to hurry his pace.

Then, it came back to Uladzislau where he knew Miguel from... When he was healing / beating up that druggie who was possessed, one of the panicked faces was Miguels... In fact, his face had the same panicked look for the entire time he had been watching Uladzislau. The expression was a tripartite fear: Fear for his life, safety and sanity, fear for Uladzislau and one other thing which now was recognizable as fear of the organization that plagued this city.

As they left, he didn't give instructions on where they were going, he just said that they had to leave the area. He also offered to fix the man's burns later, if he didn't have the energy to do it himself.

Thoughts churning and stumbling over each other, Uladzislau followed Miguel. The offer to get healed up was appreciated; he didn't know if Woundhealer or his fists needed some kind of energy to work or not. He tried lightly punching himself in the forehead, flinching at the expectation of pain but hopeful that this weird ability would work on him like it did on others.

Such complete insanity his life had turned into, and he still could not remember why he was in America.

I buy 4 minutes of heated water.

(2 dollars per hour and having 4 dollars equals 2 minutes of heated water)

After taking an incredibly quick shower, Neito stepped out. However, the last towel on the rack he had planned to use was nowhere to be seen, the only clothes of his that had been left were his pants, and no underwear...

How embarrassing! He wondered who had done this...

Then, he saw a man at the exit of the building waving over at him, with his clothes draped over one shoulder, and the last towel on the other. He smiled mischievously. It seemed to be a boy no older than 12. He stuck his tongue out and ran off.

(This is for you uladzislau)

After the man had taken camera-less back alleys all the way to the run-down Italian part of town, full of not-quite-standardized houses, basic little shops with few customers, markets selling home-cooked food and abandoned buildings with kids playing ball in the parking lots, Miguel stopped by one abandoned building with no kids playing nearby.

He knocked on the door, even though the place appeared to be empty.

After a few moments, a man approached and recited a simple phrase that he had probably asked many times before, "Password?". "Rain Song" he said. The man shuffled a bit through a pad of papers and then unlocked the door. It was a small foyer with doors closing off to the rest of the place.

"Oh, you brought someone? Miguelllll... you better not be trying anything" he said. "Does this man have a secret he wishes to flee from as well?" the man demanded, clearly referring to stand power.

"Yes... I just haven't asked him what it's called yet" he informed, glancing over at Uladzislau desperately.

(if your character thinks about it, they will probably be aware of what it's called... stand users (for some reason) always come up with names for their stand that are musical references. In your case, your stand was probably pre-named and you just are subconsciously aware of it)