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

[jesterlies]

Here, it is your turn to get pulled in for a hug, idiot. Though rather than warm and welcoming it is more possessive and unyielding. Something that says he will not let go no matter how the door calls. His fingers go into his hair and he stares back at the door with a frown. No, he does want to take this thing apart, study it's magic. A door like that ...could it get them out of this prison? Hm. Another time. He will have to come back here later, after he's had time to study the materials.

He is growing tired of this thing pounding on his connection with Vanilla anyway.

"I don't want any nosy Gingerbraves traipsing around in my house anyway! We either seal it off, or I create some very entertaining traps," He might do that anyway. Enrichment.

"We'll take what's most important from here and lock up on our way out, how does that sound Vanilly? Silly Vanilly?"

Focus on him, do not focus on whatever is going on in your brain. Jealousy should only be directed at him, otherwise he doesn't care for the look of it on his face.

[purevanillacookie]

Oh hello, he's being hugged? It's surprising enough - Shadow Milk initiated! Look! - that the thoughts come to a grinding halt in his head and he blinks. Then smiles and hugs back. The yield to the unyielding. Squishing Shadow Milk in return as hands go to his hair. Okay so it's a little possessive but it's an improvement.

Though the idea of traps makes him sigh, hard, Ovens sake. "We're sealing it closed, no traps." Because he doesn't want to have to disarm them each time he comes back here. Or forget them and get trapped in one. He tugs on the back of Shadow Milks outfit. No traps.

The repetition of his name finally makes him pull back enough to look at him, perplexed. Then amused. And touched. He's comforting him?

Oh no that's cute?

He reaches up to place his hands on Shadow Milks face, curling his fingers against his cheeks, stroking his thumbs over them. Then kisses the tip of his nose. Because he licked dried blood earlier and he's not touching that.

"That sounds reasonable. You have to let me go if we do so, however." Though he's not moving out of the cling. It's cute!

[jesterlies]

Hm, does he regret this now? Look at that smile it makes him feel kind of weird and gross inside. Is he enabling something that will come back to bite him later? The points of his sharp nails veeeerry gently drag through his scalp. He will not be too tender, so help him.

"No traps, but if some peon manages to break in, we get to do it my way," And he will put a hundred traps in for funsies.

...




Why does he feel like he wants to explode into confetti right now this is gross, he can't handle this, dON'T LOOK AT HIM LIKE THAT. He can't believe what he did worked and now- he's going soft. He's going soft!! Vanilla has infected him, he can't believe this. Stop looking at him like that it's both cute and makes him want to bite him.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get all weird about it! Sheesh, I don't want to find out what happens to our souls if the haunted, cursed door decides to eat you, Vanilly." he will disengage, weirdly sheepish that he's been caught and read for filth and will simply drag him around by the hand instead. Here hold all this stuff he is thrusting at you.

[purevanillacookie]

AND LUCKY FOR HIM? He doesn't utter a noise to the slide of sharp nails across his skin. Because this is neither the time, nor the place, nor the mood for such an embarrassing reveal. Haha.

"I will concede if someone attempts to break in, you may trap them," he agrees, light dancing in his eyes. Because a simply repel mark should do to keep the nosiest out. So if they do trap someone it's either going to be one of them. Or Lily. Ah, hm. But he did promise... Rats. He'll have to make sure Lily recognizes his repel mark.

He will keep looking too, beaming, until Shadow Milk finally pulls away... and takes his hand. That defeats the purpose of Pure Vanilla scouring on his own to find things that might be relevant, but he doesn't say it. He merely huffs softly, hides his smile with his other hand, and follows. Then takes whatever's shoved into his arms, making sure they pick up the journals from above too.

Oh and those scrolls, they looked fascinating. This book on theory- Seamus wrote it! Sorry, Shadow Milk, Pure Vanilla is helping by making sure he picks up good ones. But at least he's carrying them? Until he can't anymore.

[jesterlies]

Good, now he doesn't have to address any more of this right now! They are collecting all the research notes, the extra letters, and anything component wise that may still be usable. He only licks a couple more things for science.

As they get ready to leave, Shadow Milk lingers for a moment, looking over this place and it's rush of emotions and complicated Truths. Turning to leave, his eye catches something. A dusty old mirror on the wall.

It shows his reflection, looking back at him, conflicted and perhaps uncertain, but his all the same. He lets out a breath, leaving it behind him. They had some sealing to do.

[sticksandbonesmods]

Bruh.