EVENT & TDM 036

[sticksandbonesmods]

WAKE UP

Whatever you were doing, something doesn’t add up. For starters, you were most certainly not in this strange little village with a mishmash of cultures and strange animals everywhere. You might have been holding your weapon, yes, but maybe you weren’t- maybe you don’t even have one, and the heavy wooden beam or old pipe in your hands is foreign entirely. But as you stop to think, you also realize you were mid-swing, and someone stands before you; another fresh face being urged by whispers untraceable to fight? Or one of the villagers, alarmed and primed to defend themselves before your time seemed to stop and your mind awoke?

Even stranger, once you get that sorted out, is that the wildlife- all animals mixed with plants- are all nervous at best, actively frightened by something unseen at worst. Squirrels whose tails resemble hyacinths more than fluff and fur run through the trees chittering and shrieking, foxes and dogs with reeds and leaves and petals gently growing from their haunches bolt from place to place, alert and stanced for an attack before running off again. Getting too close to a warren may lead to something biting down on your feet.

Should you journey the distance to the beach- or use the Ark gate generously provided- even the Emerald Sea churns and roars violently, the cliffside whirlpool practically a hurricane beneath the sea. Something is amiss in Aldric’s Grove, and you are only the latest victims.

A LANTERN IN THE HANGING TREE

There’s something that wasn’t there before, one day. A dark, gnarled tree with a gaping hole in it- except the hole is pitch black, and a barrier stops you from entering despite the opening being large enough to walk into. Hanging from the almost-bare boughs are metal lanterns, all of them unable to be lit. As fog rolls in, so too does poor weather. It’s almost always raining, if not outright storming. Sometimes it lets up, but not for long.

The fog brings something else though. Golden lights wait in the fog, and approaching them sounds… incredible, actually? They do not move or give chase, but you may find them unavoidable regardless. Walking into the lights brings you to a memory, a scene from someone’s life… but not your own.

As it finishes, you might be where you’d just been standing, but there’s a slim chance you now stand before the owner of the memory; as if you’d walked there in a daze while lost in thoughts that aren’t your own.

With each light met by a villager, a lantern in the tree lights.

GUIDING BONDS IN THE DARK

It’s dark. It’s painfully dark even though your eyes are wide open. As you fumble around, hands outstretched for anything at all, your fingers catch on a metal curve. Instinctively, you slip it on your wrist- and as your sight returns, emotions that aren’t yours slip into your heart and mind. You aren’t alone, but maybe you will wish you were. A silver chain connects the bracelet on your wrist with your companion’s own before vanishing again, and if you try to put more than six feet of space between each other an invisible tug between you stops you. Removing the bracelet blinds you again, but if given the opportunity, wearing more than one overwhelms your mind to the point that you may as well be wearing none at all. Your powers are null, your weapons are not with you. The two of you are alone.

You find yourselves in a dark cavern of dirt and root. High above, a silvery blue light shines.You can hear rain hitting leaves and bark, water trickling down roots. Should you try to climb up, the roots shake you off themselves. Behind you is a solid wall. Ahead of you is a path to take, twisting and winding with ever shifting false routes and a chill in the air. There’s only one way forward.

As you traverse the labyrinth it will quickly become clear you aren’t alone. Something trudges through the caverns with heavy feet, stalking everyone within. Unlucky travelers will find themselves cornered by a minotaur looming over them, ready to fight and give chase- but it can be distracted by other travelers, or killed… temporarily, and it will come back with a vengeance.

Even outside of the minotaur there are other threats however. As you go from hall to room to hall, familiar scents and sounds creep in, all meant to invoke something you dread. Soon enough those scents and sounds will take shape, hunting you down just as fervently as the bull. Lingering in any space for too long also incites rising temperaments and lower inhibitions that you may struggle to shake off. Why would you? Smacking your partner for being a coward is so much more enticing. … Not just a smack. After all, about half-way through, when monsters born of your memories start to haunt the labyrinth too, you found your weapons, after all.

Your goal is to get to the center of the maze, while the maze wants to crush you with the minotaur, with memories of fear and regret, with its own rush of root and dirt while your emotions feed into each other, crashing against each other’s minds like ocean waves against a cliff. And should it succeed, should air leave your lungs one last time, you will not awaken in the Garden. This is a game, after all. No, as your companions filter into the center two by two, they will find you just barely breathing, strung up from the root, and the roots strung up in you. Plants grow from your flesh and blood, squeeze your lungs and heart. They may fade in a couple days, or you may well be corrupted by the Fallen Sun’s touch. You frame a single opening in the dreariness, but the sound of rain is louder than ever.

Little by little you make your way through, exiting from the gnarled tree strung in lanterns. The bracelets drop from your wrists and crumble to pieces. You’re free.

SOMBER RAINY MORNINGS

It’s been a trying month, and the rain does not stop. The lights do not dim, the lanterns in the tree do not flicker. All you can do is try to cope, in whatever way you can. And when something tugs at your mind again and the scent of dirt floods your nose, something roars in the distance.

The clouds in the sky are cut in half as a serpent made of the cosmos flies above, an iridescent rain falling from its body. Those corrupted in death will find themselves trying to avoid it, for its waters purify the rot in their bodies. Others may simply enjoy the warm beauty as the world seems to settle into a calm. The lantern tree seems to bloom and heal before vanishing into a flurry of petals, leaving only a few broken lanterns behind on the ground. Nene, the girl with flowers growing from her hair picks one up with a far-off gaze before returning to her cottage, leaving the rest behind.

Flowers begin to spring to life, embracing the warmer days of summer in the wake of spring, and gradually the wildlife begins to calm down.

For the first time in weeks, a sunny day awaits and the sky is stained with rainbows.

Spark Notes (Click to Expand)

summary

WAKE UP: New arrivals in Aldric's Grove arrive holding weapons, covered in blood, and most likely pointing them at someone. Surprise! On top of that, all the animals are on edge, and some might attack you if you agitate them or get too close.
A LANTERN IN THE HANGING TREE: A tree appears one day with hanging lanterns. Getting close to a golden light means that memories of others will enter your mind, and with each person who touches a light, a lantern on the tree lights.
GUIDING BONDS IN THE DARK: Within the labyrinth, everyone is connected by a bracelet and are therefore sharing emotions. Getting more than six feet apart will stop you from moving further forward, but without a bracelet, you'll be fully blinded in the maze. Your weapons and magical powers aren't with you, and threats loom around every corner.
SOMBER RAINY MORNINGS: To potentially cure the Corruption that some characters may have endured by dying in the labyrinth, the Cosmic Serpent rises from the sea to spew purifying rains across the Grove. Flowers bloom where the corrupted ground was healed, and you're given a break - for now.

out of character

Happy May! This is a reminder that TDMs are game canon. Current players in the game may redeem TDM AC this month (meaning: if you tag a new player/character and the thread reaches 5 comments from you, your AC is that entire thread for the month if you want). We'll find a better way to clarify this rule in the future and we're sorry for anyone it's confused in the past. Have fun with the event!

updates

Any potential updates, such as characters damaging something important or whatever else, will be put here.

submissions

❖ Questions
❖ May Plotting
❖ Past Life Plotting (Closed to Game Members)
❖ Investigations

code

Comments

[thefinalbloom]

There's a soft sigh at her question.

The Fallen Sun has warped this realm, locked me out of this patch of earth. Death stagnates, it does not flow- I cannot harvest the souls of anything in the forest, and the souls are left to rot or worse. This also imbalances the River of Life which my flowers return to when it's time for rebirth. Despite being many eons his senior, he is still a progenitor; fallen from grace he may be, he still can use tricks like this.

Worse yet is that necessary evil of the Garden; this is what allows you and your fellow victims to survive the slaughters. I have decided to overlook it because I want you all to bloom beautifully and naturally before I come for you, but it still twists to look at.

[deathgripped]

None of this is entirely unfamiliar to Castorice. Though there are parts she still struggles to put together, the story aligns with what the others have told her.

"Is there anything that can be done — anything I can do, to help right some of these wrongs?" Castorice lays a hand over her chest. "I know too well what can come of hollow death. If I can help to ease some of this strain, I would be most glad to do so."

[thefinalbloom]

Hm...

Castorice may get the feeling that Morrigan is smiling.

As a matter of fact, you just might. Find a place to sit, Knowledge Blue is a creature of learning so there will always be somewhere. A classroom, perhaps.

[deathgripped]

"Oh - of course."

It takes Castorice a moment, namely to get her bearings in such an elaborate place. Eventually, she does find a small classroom to tuck away into. She even manages to collect some papers. She's gone to "school," she knows what she's doing!

"Alright, Lord Morrigan. I am ready."

Roll a d10.

[thefinalbloom]

Oh, she's so cute, what the fuck.

I want you to close your eyes and open your senses. Feel the air around you, the flow of magic. Do you sense it? The threads of life?

She might not be able to, not yet.

9!

[deathgripped]

A deep breath is drawn in as Castorice closes her eyes. She casts her mind out, ignoring the ugly, pervasive feeling of wrongness that tries to cling to her. She's been here long enough to at least be familiar with their ilk. Maybe it's enough to be able to look past them?

proud of u cas (reaction roll: 6)

[thefinalbloom]

She can feel it. A map of lines all tangled together, all gentle and winding and turbulent. The threads of life surround her, vibrant and beautiful. Even around her they flow and sprout and bud into leaves.

... Something in her stomach might wobble a bit, though.

Do you see it, Castorice? The way life flows?

[deathgripped]

She is almost awestruck by the sight before her. Beautiful as it is, it's alien to her and her own perception and function of life and death. Perhaps if it had been so stunning, she would not have balked at her role for so long.

Even if her stomach does seem uneasy.

"They are... threads. A tapestry, even."

Aglaea would have loved this.

[thefinalbloom]

Yes! As Life is! It is a tapestry, a garden, an ocean, all things- and all things are Life. And with life... comes death. This may come easier to you, dear.

Among the threads of life, see if you can feel a bloom. Do not move or you may make yourself sick, though. Just reach out with your mind and feel around.

[deathgripped]

Indeed, Castorice does try to move, only to feel a wave of nausea take her. She swallows it down, and instead pushes her mind forward. With some searching, she feels what may or may not be a bloom take shape.

"Like this?"

cw: animal death, plantimal lore

[thefinalbloom]

As she sits, she may see in the distance a very small ethereal flower start to form in the corner.

Like that. ... It looks like a mouse. Watch what happens with the bloom.

Morrigan stops talking though, so Castorice may observe.

The flower falls from its stem, and lays there. ... But with no one to harvest, it can only sit. At this point, the forest is so used to Morrigan's absence that the process is faster than usual- or maybe something else is going on- so Castorice can watch the little canterbury bell shift, roll back into the mouse.

The mouse's tail becomes grass and vine, a small flower blooming from it, it's rear becoming petals as it uncurls from where it lay, nose twitching.

[deathgripped]

This time, when the nausea returns, it is not because of Castorice's movements — not at first, at least. Precious though the creature may look, knowing that they were borne from such perversion of the natural cycle is enough to make her ill. Indeed, she likely makes it worse by the way her body seems to physically recoil.

"Mister Jiaoqiu said that death had been distorted, and that people would return with a cost. But I did not think that it would go so far." It is a struggle, now, to maintain her focus. "What can be done?"

[thefinalbloom]

That is what we're going to find out, together... after you recover a little. Your body and mind are not attuned, and I can tell you are feeling ill from this. Close everything off, I won't have you hurting yourself on my account.

[deathgripped]

Though some part of her wants to protest, she does not. She might have been granted the authority of death, time and time again — a million times over — but her actual experience as its arbiter was limited. She did not have the depth of experience that Morrigan did.

As she draws back into herself, a ragged breath leaves her. It takes her a moment to recover, but regardless, there is steel in her voice when she says:

"Whatever must be done, no matter how long it takes, I will assist you."

[thefinalbloom]

And I welcome it, my dear. Go, get some rest. We have a connection now. I shall reach out... or you can come back here where my presence is strongest, if you want to talk.

[deathgripped]

There will be no arguments from Castorice, not at first. She stands with both a nod and a bow, only to stop short.

"... May I ask a question? Or perhaps... it is a favor?"

[thefinalbloom]

Of course.

... OH, I should also clarify, that those animal spirits you may see in the Grove can be natural, but the abundance of them is because of my absence. So do not worry too much when you see them in the town.

[deathgripped]

"Mm, that is good to know." She doesn't have to feel as bad finding them cute. Just... don't look too closely at their ties to life and death, apparently.

But in any case, she hesitates for a long moment, before finally breathing out.

"Because I am away from my realm, I have found my power to be... limited. Make no mistake, there are parts that I am perfectly content living without, but..." Her fingers tighten. "Accessing the netherworld is one of the few ways I can make contact with the creature that became my sister. We often work in tandem, and her great strength is a boon to me.

"I do not know if it is your control, but if any of it fell within your realm..." She wishes she could meet Morrigan's eyes. Regardless, she hopes that the reaper can see the plea on her face. "To even be able to contact her in the slightest... Even from time to time... It would mean a great deal to me."

abundance and rapid progression*

[thefinalbloom]

Morrigan listens from their realm, humming thoughtfully.

It might take a bit of time, but I may be able to work something out. I will have to search. But even if it is just a word... you shall be reunited. I promise.

[deathgripped]

A relieved smile breaks out over her features, a counter to just how stoic and composed she has been up until this point.

"That is all I ask. Thank you, Master Morrigan."

[thefinalbloom]

You are welcome, my dear Castorice.