CHARACTER WARNINGS: Alastor seems pleasant but he's a serial murderer and a cannibal! He's also a literal demon from hell so he's not very respectful of Christian themes.

ARRIVAL - cw: none

[Drip. Drip. Drip. The steady drip of blood is a familiar lullaby to a sinner. Comforting, almost. But -- no. Wait. It's not blood. It doesn't sound viscous enough. Too thin. Alastor stirs and grumbles. Why is he so cold? And... sopping wet? He sits up. This is not his comfy hotel suite! Nor is it his studio. Or... anywhere else he recognizes. The foliage is a bit too tropical to be the bayou... And not only that, but his cherry-red suit is soaked through. He's pretty sure he'd remember falling asleep in the rain.

Still, lying on a bed of ferns, the demon smiles -- though it doesn't reach his eyes]

Well then! Isn't this a fine pickle.

[Alastor isn't the kind of person to let something like being kidnapped into a weird jungle boat bother him! Hell had plenty of places just as odd as this. Time to explore! Oh, but first... he couldn't be caught looking so shabby.

He summons his microphone staff and draws a circle around his feet. A pillar of green fire rises around him for a good thirty seconds, scorching the plants at his feet. When it clears, his clothes are dry and almost... pressed? Wow.]

SEEING IS BELIEVING - cw: visual and auditory hallucinations

[If this is Hell, it's one of the most sparsely inhabited places he's ever seen. Usually you can't take a step without tripping over a stoned sinner or a drunk demon. Here there's... no one. The sounds of the maelstrom are somewhat distant, and Alastor has yet to figure out he's on a ship -- though he is suspicious that this is not a normal forest!

The eye on his microphone staff shines brightly, like a flashlight, and he holds a fancy vintage umbrella to protect him from the rain. He hums tunelessly to himself, his voice overlaid with radio static and a bright smile on his face]

What a perfectly unpleasant day~!

[He's alone. But he isn't. This place buzzes with energy -- terrible stories of suffering etched into the fabric of reality here. What horrible things had happened here? Alastor's interest is certainly piqued! Between the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder, he catches sentences here and there. Panic. Fear. Self sacrifice. Heroism. Oh, the humanity!

But then he hears something that doesn't quite sound like the echoes, something that sounds a bit more... live. He turns his staff-nee-flashlight around toward the noise]

Heeeellllooooooo~? Is there someone out there?

------

[With or without companions, the radio demon finds his way to the upper deck. It still looks more like an alien forest than anything but something is clear, now!]

A-ha! It IS a cruise liner! Fascinating.

WORMS - cw: alastor being a gross asshole who eats worms

[Continuing his leisurely stroll through the ship and humming a happy tune, Alastor hears something land with a wet "splorch" on his umbrella. Then another. Then another!]

Hmmm?

[Finding refuge under a tree, Alastor looks at the top of the umbrella and finds... worms!! Oh!]

Hello! [Alastor grabs one of the worms delicately in his clawed gloves and examines it a bit, adjusting his monocle.

Then he puts it in his mouth.]

WILDCARD - Any other ideas? I'm all ears!