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sticksandbones2024-10-14 10:40 am
sticksandbonesmods) wrote in sticksandbones2024-10-14 10:40 am
MINI EVENT: GHOST RESCUE
A HEARTBEAT BENEATH THE STAIRS
As the season turns, and blood sinks into the ground of the Grove, as monsters with your face haunt the halls, waiting to pounce, something else is creeping into light. Distantly one might see a light in the forest at night, and the next it comes closer. And closer. Until in the treeline you can see it: a pitch black manor that looks as if it’s covered in ash. The trees act as its gates, rebuffing anyone who tries to investigate, and the air smells like rot. Something watches in the windows, but vanishes when you blink.
… But not even this dark manor can stand in the way of one very angry grandfather skeleton, who will, eventually, rattle his teeth and bones in a rallying cry and urge others to follow him, sword in hand. It’s time to storm the castle, and Mr. Bone-Jangles has had enough.
The air within the manor is frigid and biting, and the inside itself is as decrepit as you may expect. Lights and candles can light the way… but only for a few minutes. The wood creaks as if the building is breathing slowly, and sometimes you here a loud thum-thump, as if its unseen heart beats while you explore.
For an already imposing building, inside seems even larger and there’s almost no end in sight as it feels like the halls wind on forever and more and more rooms, from libraries to studies to bedrooms to- … is this room dedicated to WWE Wrestler Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson? … Needless to say, there’s a lot to work through, but Bone-Jangles urges you onward.
Wisps of color drift through. Are they your friends? Or something else?
… But not even this dark manor can stand in the way of one very angry grandfather skeleton, who will, eventually, rattle his teeth and bones in a rallying cry and urge others to follow him, sword in hand. It’s time to storm the castle, and Mr. Bone-Jangles has had enough.
The air within the manor is frigid and biting, and the inside itself is as decrepit as you may expect. Lights and candles can light the way… but only for a few minutes. The wood creaks as if the building is breathing slowly, and sometimes you here a loud thum-thump, as if its unseen heart beats while you explore.
For an already imposing building, inside seems even larger and there’s almost no end in sight as it feels like the halls wind on forever and more and more rooms, from libraries to studies to bedrooms to- … is this room dedicated to WWE Wrestler Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson? … Needless to say, there’s a lot to work through, but Bone-Jangles urges you onward.
Wisps of color drift through. Are they your friends? Or something else?
A NIGHTMARE ON YOUR LIPS
And to those who have been locked away for days, perhaps weeks, nothing in this house feels real. Is it a dream? Is it a nightmare? The mere mention of a potential addition from your lips manifests another new room within the manor, but you cannot touch anything. Light hurts and makes you dizzy, while the night is painfully cold. How long has it been? How long will it be?
The burst of life is- new. Exciting. Distantly, you know these people, but the urges of death are whimsical and cruel. Part of you wants to guide them to the attic, where your souls are chained in full to a portrait of you. Break those portraits, and you're free, coming back to life outside, which is what you want, isn't it? Another part of you wants to chase them out, how dare they intrude upon your afterlife? Another yet thinks it’s time to play, but no longer remembers what ‘play’ is- so surely they can dodge the plates and books, right? Right!
And another yet wants the intruders dead. And if not by your hands, then by the demons guarding this world alongside you.
The burst of life is- new. Exciting. Distantly, you know these people, but the urges of death are whimsical and cruel. Part of you wants to guide them to the attic, where your souls are chained in full to a portrait of you. Break those portraits, and you're free, coming back to life outside, which is what you want, isn't it? Another part of you wants to chase them out, how dare they intrude upon your afterlife? Another yet thinks it’s time to play, but no longer remembers what ‘play’ is- so surely they can dodge the plates and books, right? Right!
And another yet wants the intruders dead. And if not by your hands, then by the demons guarding this world alongside you.
no subject
[If he's going to be the villain, let him be the villain. He knows his wrongs. He knows he fucked that up, like the many other things he's fucked up while he's been here. He's told the Doctor in the past never to let him lead a squad because it ends poorly every time he tries.
Nothing this ghost could say to him isn't shit he's already said to himself, or heard by the rest of Terra. He lets his blade cut deep.]
I'm a Sarkaz. A devil, a demon, a monster in human skin. I drink the blood of my enemies and dance on their graves. I grind bone to dust under my heel, tear apart cities with a single sweep of my blade, destroy families and livelihoods for nothing more than the promise of a tomorrow. I chase my target until he falls. If you think I won't kill again, whether it's him, or Lena, or anyone else — you've got the wrong man. No one has to ask me to lift my blade.
It's already raised.
no subject
Unfortunately, it does very much have Sesa's skill, and it is not bound by things like "number of bullets".
no subject
[IS NOW A GOOD TIME TO MENTION THIS—
Really, they do hurt a little bit! Sesa's grenade launchers are heavily modified and very illegal. But it's, uh, um, probably a little shocking when Flamebringer is mostly fine despite getting hit directly by A Fucking Grenade. Bullets will hurt him more. Unfortunately he's a deranged freak and will not go down easily because something something Sarkaz blood makes him too angry to die something Kazdel something.
He is slashing. He is attacking. He is also on fire. *Mayoi voice* you cannot kill me in a way that matters.]
no subject
In the smoke, however, it takes on a different form, with Flamebringer clearing the smoke only to be met with... Podenco, looking terrified as she cries out when the blade meets her arms. She throws down her vial and lets the spores she uses flood the room as well, so now on top of the freezing cold that's frosting him over actively and the smoke and fire of the grenades, spore clouds also flood the room, slowing him down.
The room also seems to twist, allowing Podenco to take some distance like she should be.
The leach should really stop taking the forms of long-ranged people, honestly.
fuck it full headcanon until HG proves me wrong // cw slavery/trafficking, child murder
He knows those spores, too. This is annoying. How do you kill a ghost? On Terra, you kind of... don't. Sarkaz Revenants just remain. This feels similar, but worse in a lot of ways.
God, he hates things that mess with his mind. He hates the forms this thing takes. Hates it, hates it... and then he glances down at the barcode tattoo on his wrist. Pauses in the chaos to really take it in. Hears voices in his head from the past while the fire swirls around his wrists and hands and his blades proper.
"You're a Sarkaz. A mercenary at that. You don't make friends."
"As your owner, if I tell you to kill someone, you do. Man, woman, or child, doesn't matter."
The strong kill the weak. The yellowed branches of a plant get trimmed off, and their dead flesh nourishes that of the living. The dead feed those who live. The past isn't worth getting hung up on.
...
Flamebringer takes a breath as the smoke clears, completely dead-eyed, and charges. The frost may slow him down, but if he has to, he'll burn his own legs to keep walking. The spores might keep him back, but if that's the case, he'll start launching fireballs. Whatever attack lands, he hopes it strikes true, cold and uncaring.
He isn't really in there anymore. There's only a monster in man's skin left.]
no subject
He strike true. He always would.
The Leach just wanted it to hurt. It's only it's commitment to staying in character that keeps it from twisting his child's smile into a wicked grin as she slumps against the wall, red staining it.
...
The smoke and spores clear, and the cold alleviates. The blood remains, even as the Leach's body fades.
You win~ Have fun. We'll be back again another time.
...
It's quiet.