Dunwich: A Creepypasta Panfandom Game

[Okoye and Natasha]
Well. Who's for drinks?

Hello, I've been here for a while now, and though I've kept an eye on the network I haven't publically posted until now.

For those who don't know me, my name is Maria Hill, for clarity, it would look like that I'm from the same world as Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton and Kate Bishop.

[Filtered to Bucky Barnes]

What sort of artillery do you have here?

For those who don't know me, my name is Ororo Munroe, or Storm. I'm one of the ones who was a member of the Infinite Agency immediately before arriving here, and before that I was a member of the X-Men and former Headmaster of the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, among other things. I'm originally from Kenya but I've also lived in Egypt, the United States, Wakanda, and Krakoa, the latter two of which don't appear to exist here.

Given we've been here over a week now we might as well start acting as though it will be a long-term situation. So far I haven't been conveniently handed a plot of land to grow things on but if no one objects I can see what can be done here - movable planters, possibly with at least a semi-vertical design to avoid using all the space, would probably be the best idea. Especially since we're moving towards summer I don't want to unilaterally take over the entire exterior and ideally I'll find a way to move it somewhere else entirely at some point. I just don't want us to continue to rely solely on dubiously repurposed funds or expecting people to contribute a portion of the money they earn.

How is everyone set up so far? Are there any needs that we haven't been able to cover? Does anyone feel like they need help of any kind?

All this talk about people being handed jobs makes me wonder what this town thinks I'd be good at. It's way too small for almost anything I've done before, especially given we can't leave, which also means we can't go more rural. Anything dealing with people for a standard eight hour shift is going to be getting towards too long for me to spend focusing on trying not to miss what anyone's saying. I'd slow down a commercial kitchen for the same reason. I doubt I could sell enough art to live off without moving around different towns.

Face it, historically my most marketable skills have been flirting, fighting, and noticing way more than people expect. I need either more crime or more culture. Otherwise my best option's probably something over the internet and that could take a while to set up. I'm still hoping they'll pull something off back at the agency and we won't be here that long.

Guess I should introduce myself since I haven't already. I'm Clint Barton. And I have no idea what's going on, but that's nothing unusual these days. I know people from the Agency are working on how we can get back, but it would be nice to get some updates about the other new guys. Where are you all from? And does anyone recognize this town?

Seems a lot of people have found this network. That's good. We can communicate from across the town. Thanks to Carol for that. Firstly, I'm not the Natasha from the Infinite Agency, but I'm probably a lot like her. I'm sorry to those of you who knew me there.

There's a lot of us around here, so I'm thinking we should create a command post where everyone can converge and we can figure out what to do from there. There's something weird about this town, outside of our unexplained arrival, and I don't want anyone getting stuck across the town line as a ghost. The ghost line?

I'm also hearing something about some kind of sickness going around. So-n-so's little cousin's best friend's got "angel fever." Whatever that means. None of us will have been exposed if this is a whole new dimension than the other we came from. Probably best to keep it that way.

I'm in the park across from town hall. Center of town. Look for the red head in a black stealth suit. Hair in braids. Let's try and help one another reunite and figure out what to do next.

Is anyone injured? And do we have any doctors?

Is this thing on?

For anyone reading this, this is Carol Danvers. I'm not sure what happened back there, but the frequency should pick up anyone not originally from this world add them to the network (Thank you Infinite Agency).

Fingers crossed we can work together and figure out what the hell is going on.

ARRIVAL

The thick, ghastly haze of the mist, once practically opaque to the naked eye, fades and opens up to a nostalgic homegrown New England town. A friendly gazebo, freshly painted white sits on a neatly mown lawn at the center of the town square. Vehicles stop at the redlight while locals cross the street, birds chirp in the trees, and a school bus stops to pick up a few children in oversized backpacks. Pedestrians walk by you without a second glance. Did they not see you suddenly appearing out of nowhere? How could they not have noticed that all encompassing fog? And why doesn’t your obviously otherworldly attire catch their attention? This appears to be a small, close knit community. And it’s clear you’re not from around these parts.

But these are simply the first of many mysteries you’re about to discover.

The further you investigate your new surroundings, the more ominous this seemingly quaint and colloquial town becomes. There’s something dark beneath its pleasant guise. You can’t shake the chill at the back of your neck and the sense that someone—or something—is watching you. Then there’s the odd graffiti on the alleyway walls and the way the locals talk about certain locations. And while the mist is gone, there are places in town that make you reminisce about the mist. Places that feel supernaturally thin. Thin enough to let in whispers from the other side. Or maybe even screams.

And don’t worry if you hear laughter or the jingling chimes of carnival coming from the rain gutters in the street. That’s just your imagination. There’s nothing down there.

Nothing that floats.