EVENT 021

[sticksandbonesmods]

Feeding from the Ocean

Solitary Voyage

The first light of dawn does not come this morning. The moonlight outside continues to cast its muted glow over the Grove, still high in the sky. No matter how long you wait, no matter how many minutes or hours slip by, the darkness remains, and the silvery sentinel refuses to yield to the sun. It also appears bigger than usual, its surface etched with shadows that seem to pulse with a life of their own, and you swear there weren't this many stars peppering the night sky last night.

Despite the oppressive night that looms above, there’s an odd sense of calm. No werewolves prowl the streets, no ominous howls echo through the trees, or other dangers that usually seem to threaten the Grove. In fact, it's not making it more cold than usual, either. The ice on the river, once a solid barrier, begins to chip away, revealing glimmers of water beneath, giving new life to the creatures that call it home. A handful of the baby Seaborn even flop out of the water to explore the world, as if it's entirely new to them and hasn't only been a month since they've been unable to be on solid ground.

The only thing that the perpetual night seems to be affecting is the local wildlife. Disoriented and confused, they flit about in a daze, their natural rhythms thrown into chaos. The diurnal creatures now wander aimlessly with their instincts dulled. Someone should probably feed these poor critters before they forget how to forage for themselves.

The Grove also seems to be sans one sea jelly. Hope no one booked their therapy appointment this month.

The Reef is Immortal

It was the loud creaking that caught your attention first, a sound that reverberated through the ground like the groan of a ship caught in a storm. There's a... tree? Or, wait, no. That can't be right. It's colossal, easily taller than the supposed "limit" of the sky barrier, but it's also... blue? There's a smattering of bioluminescent patches that give a white glow, especially under the pale moonlight. The "branches" swayed unnaturally, each one moving independently, like a thousand skeletal fingers reaching for the heavens.

With the coming of this "tree" also comes something some of you may be familiar with - the Nethersea Brand. It's a blue, web-like membrane that more resembles flesh than what anyone would like to admit. Contact with the membrane is not recommended as it invokes a creeping dread that gnaws at the edges of your mind and locks your muscles and bones. It wears off... eventually, but if you don't get out of it in time it'll continue to chew at your nervous system.

It is not localized like it was last time, either. It spreads and expands to cover all of the Grove more and more with each moment, every hour swallowing more and more land, with just a few exceptions. One, the Inn's lobby, which is protected by the Inquistion's Fireplace inside. And two... surprisingly, the River and its banks, where the Guardians (and the Behemoth) seem to be taking solace from the threat.

The baby Seaborn are not aware of many things, but they are at least cognizant that some of you don't seem to do well in the Brand, with some control over what it covers. If you're by the river, they seem to be able to control the brand just enough to free you, chirping in an innocent manner. You do not know what they are saying, but you can imagine it's something along the lines of "Hi! What doing!" There's less of them in the river currently, but the few that are around are nesting on Moder or following Sinann around. They do not sense the distress. They are just babies.

The Mass of Sorrow

The sensation of being trapped in the web-like brand is suffocating, a foreign sensation of the boundaries that have been blurred between your identity and the collective consciousness of others. Each time you succumb to the nervous impairment, it feels like you’re slipping through a veil, where the lines between your thoughts and those of others dissolve into a swirling mass of emotions and memories.

You can’t shake the feeling of grief that lingers in your chest, a weight that seems to grow heavier with each passing moment. It’s as if you’re mourning something you can’t quite grasp—perhaps the remnants of your own past, or the fragments of lives that are not your own. When you finally come to again, rising up from the brand to attempt to move again, you'll notice you have tear stains against your face you don't remember crying.

It's not easy to escape the brand, either. Between the rough terrain flesh-y webs make and the way it slowly neutralizes your nerves, it's a wonder you can keep moving at all. But more than that, there's this... voice...

"Embrace... Our Warmth..."

In short moments of clarity, you remember... dreaming? Remembering? Commiserating...? Something. Whatever the case, you were in someone's mind. Maybe your own. Maybe someone else's. Maybe even something from the forest - the brand is taking all prisoner, after all.

Best hope We Many doesn't share anything you don't want anyone to see, because it doesn't seem like you get much of a choice.

Elegy of the Outliers

Those holed up inside are not entirely forgotten. While the warmth of the fireplace and the kin of the river may keep the brand at bay, the persistent weight of grief and sadness still reaches those within. It is the curse of an ancient being long gone, a sorrow that lingers like a scar. Yet, this sorrow can be softened by the company of those around you. Distractions, warmth, and togetherness serve as reminders that collaboration is, as always, the answer.

Gazing out at the brand, one will notice shadows moving along the fleshy web—shadows that seem hauntingly familiar. Loved ones move through the Grove as if it has come alive again, as if the threat of an obsessed, fallen deity has vanished, and things have reached some form of normalcy once again.

Upon closer inspection, the observant may discern that these are not true apparitions, but rather the brand's way of storing memories within We Many's consciousness. It is a surreal experience, reliving moments through the Seaborn that drift freely about. This phenomenon is both unsettling and captivating—perhaps it could even make for compelling television while you remain trapped inside. Yet, the sight of a loved one, even as a mere shadow, may also be overwhelming, pulling you away from your current sanctuary.

Be careful out there.

Spark Notes

summary

Solitary Voyage is this moon's journey. The expected dawn fails to arrive, leaving the Grove shrouded in an unusual, persistent moonlight. While the darkness disrupts the local wildlife, causing confusion and disorientation, it also brings life to the river as baby Seaborn venture out.

The Reef is Immortal, bringing forth a colossal, bioluminescent "tree" in the Grove, accompanied by the spreading menace of the Nethersea Brand, a blue, web-like membrane that induces paralysis upon contact. While the Brand expands across the land, the Inn's lobby remains safe, and the baby Seaborn near the river seem to possess a surprising ability to help free those ensnared by the Brand, blissfully unaware of the surrounding danger.

The Mass of Sorrow is the experience of being ensnared in the Nethersea Brand. Personal identity blurs with the collective consciousness, leading to overwhelming grief and confusion as emotions and memories intertwine.

Elegy of the Outliers, or those sheltered from the Nethersea Brand, still feel the Arbor's weight of grief and sadness, a lingering curse that can be eased by the warmth and companionship of others. As shadows resembling loved ones move through the brand, it becomes clear that these are not true apparitions but memories stored within We Many's consciousness.

out of character

This month's event has been written entirely by Rubie! Please be nice and say thank you Rubie! Enjoy your memory shares and your eldritch horrors, and remember that questions asked should be asked in public channels and not DMs if they're related to this month's event. Have fun!

updates

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

submissions

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

code

Comments

[charlastan]

[When Dipper looks up from the burning map, Stan is gone.

The fire has spread to the car now, since it's noticeably not the Stanmobile, and there are two fiery figures riding with him. The first is driving and chatting with the second, who is sitting in the back acting as a sort of look out. The two are chatting with each other in another language, but even if Dipper knew what one their words are drowned out by the crackling sounds of fire, punctuated by the occasional cruel laughter or shout.

There's a huge spike of fear toward the back of the car that doesn't match either of the figures' body language though. There's a loud metal clanking suddenly, and the second figure leans out the window quick, makes a fist, and bangs it on top of the trunk as hard and loud as he can, while yelling at whatever is in there to presumably can it.

The clanking stops.

The panic skyrockets.]

[ghostharasser]

[Hahahaha okay, this is getting pretty bad. He knows what this looks like now, he knows where this might be leading, because he got glimpses of this once, long ago. While he knows the version he saw was not what actually happened in the end, he does not care to test his luck with what this turns into.]

[But that is when Dipper suddenly remembers something very important.]

[He has a gun.]

[Will a gun work on metaphysical mental manifestations of Stan's trauma? He doesn't know, but boy is he about to find out.]

[Whether they know he is there or not, Dipper pulls the azure pine from it's holster and cocks the weapon aiming it at whoever is closest, not that he can really tell them apart like this, they're just flaming ghosts at this point, but there is a furious, harried tinge to his voice.]

Stop the car.

[charlastan]

[The closest one is the driver, who is not expecting a gun in his face at that second and swerves.]

¿̮̜̺̗̹̟̀͐͢͝͝Q̼͉̳̮̭̹̹ͬ͌͠͡ư̢̲̫̳͆é̷̼͕̆ ̗̩̤̒̊́́̚c̷̰̭͍͈͗̑̾̄͐̀̇ͨa̷̵̦̦͉͓͋̎ͦ̓r̶͙̲̜̲̦ͣͧa̱̯̩̠̯̩̅j̬̤̭͔̠̉̚ö̵̡̦̩́͌̉͛̉͂?̨͑̊͑̀̌͠͏̳̻͇

[The guy in the backseat is just as freaked out, because this nutjob could whip that gun at him with ease. He looks to the driver and jerks his head toward the trunk.]

¡̧̣̦̪̟̳̙͆É̟̥ͧ̽͛̈́̑̉ͬ̽l̹̼̟̗̳ͨ͊̾̌ͤͬͤ̓͘͟͡ͅ ̡͍͎̫̞͍̙̹̟̓ͨ̊ͦ̆̾̋̇̽̀n̵̵̥̼̗̦̹̤ͦ́̐̚͡o̱̘̣̪͉ͤͨ̉̓̐ͣ̎̕ ̬͍̤̆̐̿̐ͦͩ́l̨̬̮͙͈̹̞̽̈͛͒̍͝ͅo̶̜̹̦͇͂̽ͬ̄̈́ͨ̀ ̧͖͇̜͖̱͊͠v̬̦̖͈̱͕ͫͬͯ͠a̾͆̉̚҉̴̖̟̳l̶̤̝͉̙̻̮͉̝̓̋͗͂̓͂ͯ̓e̷̢̙̘̽̈͑̋͗͘,̎͆́͏̦̜̫͈͝ ͓̲͉̝̥̘̿̒̒͂͊ͮ͘J̡͉͈̥̺̑ͥ̒ͦͫ̊ͧ̕ö͈̠̹̜̭͉̠́̇ͪ̉r͉̲̖̫͎͍͓͔͋͛̒̔̽́g̿̅̍̈́̓҉̧̤̙͓̰͍̝e̦̗̹͓̖ͯ͋ͨ̄͘͠ͅ!̝̫͆̏̏͊̚ͅ

[The driver grits his teeth, and swerves roughly enough to leave a skid mark on the road. The car spins and there's screaming from the trunk, and when it comes to a halt it's left sideways. He's hoping this discombobulated Dipper enough for them to be able to jump out of the car and make a break for it. If Dipper allows them to escape, they leave the presumably stolen car and keys behind - and of course, their living cargo in the trunk.]

[ghostharasser]

[It doesn't matter if he doesn't know Spanish at least, because it's clear the message got across. While the swerve definitely jostles him something fierce, he's expecting it to some extent. Expecting the ride to get bumpy, and though his head smacks into the window, he doesn't let it break his eye contact with these fuckers.]

[As they get out and try to flee, Dipper leaves the car, calmly, coolly, and takes aim. It's loaded with silver bullets which as as good as a traditional slug. One shot hits the ground near their feet. The second shot clips a shoulder. He discharges the shells, reloads, and just as the last one is getting out of range, Dipper clips a leg.]

[He could have killed them, his aim is more than good enough. He thinks in this case, it was fine enough for them to suffer. There's nothing satisfying about killing them when he knows this is an illusion. That said, he knows these men had the capacity to kill his uncle, could have killed his uncle, and so his remorse on the matter is simply not there.]

[He'll walk over to the trunk now with the keys.]

[charlastan]

[Each shot hits its mark, exactly as intended. When the hits to the leg and ahoykd make them stumble, they're consummed by the fire surrounding the moment, blending back into the flames like they were never there.

From Stan'sperspective within the trunk, the car spun out of control and gunshots were fired, so really anyone could be out there. Maybe he's just getting rekidnapped by someone else, or maybe they'll get rid of any witnesses.

Or worse - what if they don't know he's there at all and he dies in this tiny trunk with no air?

It's not smart to start yelling right away, no matter how much he wants to. Instead he bites his tongue and listens and hears...footsteps? Coming toward him? Great. So whoever shot at those guys is going to shoot him too, probably.

His heart is pounding in his ears and when the trunk pops open he actually flinches. His wrists and ankles are bound behind him at awkward angles, but he has air again and he breathes, breathes, breathes until it becomes hyperventilation.]

would you believe i had this half typed and forgot to fucking finish it

[ghostharasser]

[Yep, that's more or less what he expected. At least he hadn't started chewing through the trunk yet. Dipper holsters the gun and quickly goes about untying him. He has to get Stan out of here as fast as possible. He can feel the way his panic has been spiking since this part of the memory began.]

[He's pretty sure Stan is about to have an anxiety attack, so, before he can waste anymore time, he is reaching in to haul him out of the trunk. Away from that fucking car, so they can sit on the ground.]

Stan. Grunkle Stan. Can you hear me? Hey-

oh my god you would never (cw: minor emeto mention)

[charlastan]

[When Dipper first reaches for him Stan flails like a goddamn fish, thinking that it's probably whoever threw him in here in the first place. Fortunately there isn't exactly a lot of room for him to do so, and he only has so much energy left in him with the amount of panic he's been writhing in, so Dipper will be able to untie him without getting kicked in the face. He'll have to hang on so that Stan doesn't try and push himself out of the trunk as soon as he has a couple of limbs free though.

It takes a bit, but. It does eventually become clear that whoever is there is helping and maybe he should let them. He's still breathing like he's drowning, but Dipper will be able to tug him out of the car, and he only stumbles a little.

They're sitting on the side of the road. Any kind of grounding is difficult in a memory where the details were already lacking, but there's warm sand under his palms. There's a wound in his side, but it isn't fresh anymore so it might as well not be there, aside from a dark rusty stain on his shirt and a hole to match.

Someone's in front of him.

Can you hear me? Hey-

Everything starts to focus a little, but then it hits him too fast and all of a sudden he's nauseous and too aware all at once. His voice shakes.]

Wh-Where'd those guys go? They're gonna put me ba-- fuck!

[He moves like he's going to get up and bolt, but he hisses when he moves wrong. He can't just sit here, he can't just sit here, but apparently all he can do is sit here like-- like a sitting duck!]