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

[sesa]

[Oh......oh Sebastian is quickly reaching out without even thinking to offer to take his cardigan for him. He doesn't have anywhere super suitable to place it, but he'll find the back of a chair he can fold it over at least so it doesn't get dirty.]

Y-yes, of course! Here, let me take that for you...

[And once Elliot has his hair pulled back, Sebastian will start guiding him through the building, starting with the forge since he doesn't want to keep him by the heat for too long.]

This is the forge, as you can probably tell. It's running heat almost 24/7 to keep the ship running, though I have to keep it at 25% capacity in the summer so I don't overheat.

[forwander]

[Nevermind, 1950s cancelled, Sebastian has the cardigan now. It smells distantly like Elliot's very subtle rose perfume. Someone might have been trying to doll himself up before he came over, hmm...]

Does keeping it at a lower temperature impact your work during the summer at all?

[What if he... takes Seb's bicep in his arms... what if he links their arms and then puts his other hand against Seb's big strong muscular blacksmith arm and gently holds it... what if]

[sesa]

[AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

No he's fine. He's fine! He's totally not freaking out internally, he's handling this suuuuper well. He's so cool look at him, he didn't completely just forget what he was going to say the moment Elliot put a hand on him, what are you talking about?

Gods, he smells so nice.]

It! Um! A little! But it isn't so bad...people aren't always looking for metalwork in the dead heat of summer anyway, ahaha...

[forwander]

Are they not? [Interesting...] Do you make things out of glass, such as little statues? That would be done in a forge like this, would it not be?

[Leaning into Sebastian... he smells like oil and metal and Elliot is so weirdly into it. Tell him about your job big blacksmith man.]

[sesa]

I've known to dabble in glasswork a small bit...but it takes a particularly delicate hand, of which mine are...not so much so.

[He chuckles faintly, wiggling his fingers of his free hand for emphasis as he continues to walk with Elliot through the forge to show him everything. He feels a little self conscious about how junky and cluttery it all is, but Elliot doesn't seem to mind. That's just kindof par the course for this kind of thing.]

Why? Were you interested in commissioning a piece...?

[forwander]

[Ohhh Sebastian your big meaty hands...]

Well — if you'd be willing to take such a thing. I don't have a lot of dainty, nice treasures, believe it or not. A little glass bird, perhaps...?

[sesa]

[OH CUTE...Sebastian's already smiling just thinking about it.]

I would be honored to make something like that for you, Elliot. A little bird...did you have a particular species in mind, or would you rather I come up with something for you?

[Spoilers it's gonna be a passenger pigeon, it will be fat.]

[forwander]

You're more than allowed to come up with something. I'm not very creative when it comes to commissions. You'll just need to provide me with the cost, and I'll pay you next time I visit.

[realistically that'll probably be either tomorrow or the day after because Elliot is having a great time being shown (checks notes) forge things and fire. (He's paying more attention to Sebastian.)]

I'll leave any specifications up to you as the artist. [leaning his head into the big man's shoulder... hehe]

[sesa]

Oh, not to worry. You won't need to pay me anything. Just getting to see you and have your company is payment enough.

[G...gay? Gay. You're gay.

He'll talk as they walk, moving now to show Elliot the storage for all of his finished projects, and the kiln where things are placed to bake and harden if need be.]

All of my finished works get stored here until I can send them off to their new owners. I only occasionally experience an accident or two where something gets broken and needs remaking.