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

[succiduous]

Oh, uh. [Secondary location???] I meant we could sit wherever you want, like on that park bench over there.

[He misses the obvious signs that they're trying to leave. Sorry.]

If you'd rather stand, I can just... start, I suppose.

[cryopathy]

[in his defense, kiera isn't just being straightforward and saying no. they do consider the bench for a moment... but that would make it even harder to politely excuse themself at some point, so! kiera tilts their head at gnosis and rocks back and forth on their heels once or twice.]

... Here's fine!

[succiduous]

[To Gnosis, they are both socially awkward bitches. He does not know if his assessment of Kiera is correct or not.

Either way, he holds his pen at the ready and starts to scrawl in his notebook.]

Alright. Can I ask your name? Just your first name is fine. As well as your occupation, including if you're in school or not.

[cryopathy]

[this assessment is 100% correct.

though he specifies only a first name is necessary, they puff their chest out. they're kind of a big deal.]

Kiera Aurelius. Occupation -- hm! [they make a thoughtful noise, tilting their head and looking up at the treetops, not unlike a child making up a story on the spot.] Groom, retainer, assistant vigneron, merchant's apprentice... and yes, student!

[succiduous]

[Gnosis writes fast, at least. It means he can catch all that — with the obvious abbreviations here and there. "Rtnr, asst vigneron, mrcht appr." Nonsense to strangers, logical to him, and he'll write this properly without the shorthand when he's back at his desk.]

You're quite busy. Do you enjoy what you do, or is there anything you feel as though could be improved?

[cryopathy]

[hm... all mischief and false bravado aside, their face softens, brows turned up.]

I work with my family. There's nothing I'd rather do. I only do it all because I can't decide between it.

[succiduous]

[Aww...]

Well, that's quite wonderful, isn't it? I empathise. My family is the reason I'm currently doing this.

[Scribble, scribble.]

Would you say, then, that your days are always busy? Do you make time for any hobbies, or do you have any at all?

[cryopathy]

[hm! consider them curious.]

Your family are historians, then?

[... is it sad that most of their hobbies are tied up in work, or does that just mean they chose the right work?]

I like to ride, and to spend time with the chickens and goats. [they glance this way and that, lowering their voice.] Don't tell my father -- [he definitely already knows] -- but sometimes I read or nap on the grounds when I'm supposed to be tending the crops...

[succiduous]

Yes, that's correct. I'm trying very hard to get an unbiased account of history, including daily lives, for the generation after us. [You know, the one that won't ever come because y'all are gonna be dead in 3-5 business days.] And not to worry, I won't tell your father.

[Except he wrote that down so. Lol.]

Would you describe yourself as "down to earth", then? Or do you have loftier ambitions?

[cryopathy]

[gnosis you bitch --

she can literally see him writing this down, though, so honestly it's to be expected.

that latest question has her stumped... her brows knit together as she considers.]

I don't think I'd say I'm ambitious, exactly... Like, I want to help run the business well, but not to get rich or more famous or anything. I just want my family to be safe and happy and well off. Even if I had to do it all myself. I think I could! It would be hard, sure, but... worth it.