EVENT & TDM 024

[sticksandbonesmods]

MONSTER MASH

WAKE UP

Where were you last? Do you remember falling asleep, thinking you’d wake up in your own home, your own bed?

When you open your eyes, the room you’re in doesn’t feel like your own. In fact, you’re almost certain you didn’t fall asleep here. You’re given only a short few moments to get your bearings before the door to that room opens, the doorknob jiggling as whoever is on the other side is unlocking it. Is it a library study room you’ve found yourself in, or an inn room that doesn’t belong to you? A home that isn’t yours? A business after-hours?

An unfortunate few of you may find yourself face-to-face with the real owners of these rooms, homes, and businesses — and surely they’re just as confused as you are. The lucky ones might instead find themselves being “rescued” from their sleeping states by a heavily scarred man with dreadlocks and an impossibly sunny demeanour.

“Mornin’, sunshine! Up and at ‘em!” he’ll say, hands on his hips and the door held open in a way that says he expects you to simply come follow him, whoever he is. “You ain’t where you’re supposed to be, but I’ll bail you out before the person who owns this place knocks your teeth out for trespassin’. It’ll be our little secret, ‘kay?”

TRANSPOREMATION

cw: body horror, monster transformations, fungal parasitism

As usual, Aldric’s Grove is something of a hot mess, and that’s especially true lately. Aside from random people popping into existence in various buildings, there’s a bit of a fungus problem lately. A wee little problem with cute little mushrooms. …a major, unignorable, horrendous problem with some very large, purplish-coloured mushrooms, fruiting on still-living trees and the forest floor. They look quite similar to meadow mushrooms, but far, far less harmless. While eating one won’t poison anybody too badly — aside from an episode of horrible stomach pain — stepping on them or touching them at all will cause them to shower you in a spray of spores, all of which suddenly curve around and cling onto you as if they have a mind of their own. Any attempt to remove them, to wash them off, to brush them away from your skin and clothes, only makes the spores cling more stubbornly. Soon, they’ve started to root under your skin, unable to be pulled out.

The resulting transformation is, for what little it’s worth, extremely swift. Perhaps you feel it, perhaps you don’t, but the spores leave you fundamentally changed no matter what.

Your bones lengthen and rearrange, grinding together underneath your muscle tissue. Snapping, creaking, where new joints form over the breaks. Wings rip through your back in a spray of blood and torn flesh, the wounds healing themselves over a short second later. You drop to the ground as your back legs become something foreign and new, toes bursting free of your shoes, claws digging into the soil as you writhe on the ground. Your spine elongates, the muscles in your neck tense and relax as it gets too long. The spores are deciding what to do with you, it seems, as extra eyes rapidly appear and disappear over your body alongside feathers and scales. Within the span of sixty seconds, it seems the mushrooms have come to a decision on what you should be, and the transformations it inflicts on you rapidfire begin evening out.

Whether that leaves you something wolflike, catlike, ghostly, chimeric, or otherwise… that seems to be up to the spores. Regardless, you’re no longer in your own skin. At least you’re still “you”, and at least you haven’t lost much more than your old form… right?

…

Well, not to worry. Try your luck stepping on the mushrooms again! This time, they might be kind enough to revert you back to normal… assuming they don’t turn you into a different type of creature instead.

TIME TREKS ON

For the foreseeable future, many people are “stuck” outside their normal bodies. It doesn’t mean that life in the Grove stops, however, as people flit from building to building — assuming their monster forms didn’t bar them off from entering most of them anyhow — and their daily routines continue. From the Church of the Golden Sun in the north of Aldric’s Grove emanates a lovely, warm light, inviting all who are loyal to the Goddesses within its halls and barring the Corrupted or those loyal to the Fallen Sun from entry. Describing it as a “church” may not entirely be accurate; instead of an altar, there sits a throne that automatically prevents anyone who isn’t the Goddess of the Sun from sitting on it (despite the fact she isn’t currently there). Instead of pews, the first room is a large combat arena, golden weapons hung up on the walls that are free to use if you need to spar. Thankfully, the doors are large enough to accommodate most monsters, though the halls in the back may not be sizeable enough for anyone over eight feet tall.

Within that church, the kilns in the back are fired up, pottery baking while animal spirits resembling lions and dogs mix paint with their paws. It’s difficult, being a little guy — help a critter out? You can paint a selection of finished pottery when you’re done, which they’d tell you if they could speak to you. If they bring you a flower-shaped plate or a vase in the shape of a tulip and a paintbrush, will you figure out what they mean? If you don’t, that’s not a problem, as they’ll nudge you toward the pottery wheels and get you clay to work with. When you make your own thing, they think you’ll be more willing to paint with them. Hope you brought your art hands, assuming you have any at all after those mushrooms got you.

In the opposite wing from the pottery room, the kitchen is going strong, the smells of freshly baked bread wafting down the hall. Here is where Ydalir is, the shadowy woman wearing silks who normally casts magic and sells items, who turns to you and extends a flour-covered palm. Come here! Let’s bake something together — it’s the least she feels she can do, since she can’t exactly eliminate the fungus problem. There’s a host of food sitting in the dining room nearby already, with Heimr and Renard setting the table, Heimr nitpicking the setup while Renard focuses too hard on decorating with garlands and candelabras.

If you can’t fit into the dining room for any reason, one of the three will bring you food. They’d hate to see you go hungry, after all.

IT NEVER ENDS

While the Guardians themselves are immune to the transformations — Moder is, in fact, eating the mushrooms when no one is nearby to get spore’d — it doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying the fact that some of you can now spend more time with them in ways you couldn’t before.

Those of you with wings or flight abilities are invited by Aurora and the newly-resurrected bone dragon Sehul to come flying. Though Sehul won’t land in the Grove (too many buildings too close together for a hundred-foot dragon to feel comfortable, you see), they’ll land on the seaside, and even invite you to race them there. They do have something of a body mass advantage, but when they eventually win, they’ll fairly concede that it doesn’t really count. Aurora, meanwhile, wants desperately to teach you to do a midair flip.

Those of you who find yourselves suddenly aquatic will be literally accosted by Callan, who swims up into the river for once only to wrap his tentacles around you and drag you off toward the lake with a watery laugh. He expects you to do the same to him in return, but the Guardian’s extreme strength might make it difficult. Worry not, because if no one comes to your rescue, Sinann will chide him until he lets go, and show you the nest the baby Seaborn have built at the deepest point in the river. You’re welcome to live with them for a while, if you want. Their pastime is singing, and they’d love to sing with you.

And to the folks with a sudden craving for plants, Moder will gladly show you where the best snacks are — her favourite trees to reach into, the best flowers to eat, a fragrant patch of wild herbs. She’s happy to stroll through the forest with you, calmer than her peers are. If you need a ride on her mossy back, she’ll accommodate, so long as you don’t mind her telling old tales of a world long gone.

The final Guardian, Zahliya, doesn’t seem too keen on playtime, and will simply perch in various locations throughout the Grove to keep watch, as he normally does. Gifts of food given his way are rejected for the time being. He has a job to do; why don’t you go play with everyone?

It’s a beautiful, sunny day. This world isn’t often peaceful and playful. You should take advantage of it before something horrible happens… you and everyone else here know the good mood can’t last too long.

Spark Notes

summary

WAKE UP: Welcome to the Grove! You've found yourself in someone else's home/business/room it seems. Good luck explaining this one, but maybe Renard will be in time to bail you out?
TRANSPOREMATION: The mushrooms in the woods will spray you with spore clouds if you're not careful, and then transform you into something else. After a potentially-painful transformation, you'll find yourself in a new, more monsterlike body for a while.
TIME TREKS ON: Despite the monster mash, Beiwe's church is going strong, providing an opportunity to get creative or cook some dinner. Ydalir, Heimr, and Renard are all happy to see you and invite you to a home-cooked meal. They'd probably appreciate help with the dining room decor, too.
IT NEVER ENDS: Despite the transformations, it seems like the Guardians are all super pumped to spend time with you guys in their own domains. Many of them will invite you and your friends to hang out, some more politely than others. It's peaceful for once, so why not take them up on that?

out of character

Happy May! Here is your usual reminder that TDM threads are game canon. Per our plotting post (linked below) please keep in mind our rules for the monster transformations, and have fun!

updates

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

submissions

❖ NPCs List
❖ Questions
❖ May Plotting
❖ Past Life Plotting (Closed to Game Members)
❖ Investigations
❖ TDM NPC Contact

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Comments

[lovelyredthread]

[ He's always loved his father's magic. The confetti from nowhere quickly has light coming back to his eyes despite the terror from earlier and the emotionally charged moment they just had. Unfortunately he cottons onto the fact this story isn't going to be a fun one pretty quickly.

The boy shifts and settles down as told, cross-legged on the floor like when he was younger. Some things really never change.

The shadows come to life, a visual aid to his dad's voice as he spoke. Humans, he said-- like that word meant something to him. Looking from the shadows to his hands, he wonders if that was the word for what they were now. He won't interrupt the story as it's being told, but the gears are turning. Blueberry Milk Cookie didn't raise an idiot.

... Nothing that has the transition "until one day" ends well. He looks up to his father and nods emphatically to show he was still paying attention, and then went back to watching the shadows. ]

[jesterlies]

[Yes, good. You're a smart boy and he knew this, and so he continues. The shadows show a covered wagon and several people with haughty little smiles. "Aldric" and the other towns people look more distressed.]

A caravan came into town, a band of Adventuring Merchants they called themselves, but really they were treasure hunters dripping in greed. They had heard somewhere in the forest lay a crypt filled with gold and treasure beyond anything they knew, and so ignoring the towns warnings, they set off to find it.

[The shadow puppets reform the stage, showing instead now, a temple and the caravan pulling up to it.]

They found the crypt, but it was not at all what they expected it to be. Things that they brushed off as superstition were in fact very well. The Truth was that something ancient and violent had been sealed there. Something that had been simmering with hatred for eons and eons.

Aaaaand they let it out!

[It shows the caravan people walking into the temple, but then vine like tendrils suddenly burst from within. None of the people come back out.]

From then on, this entity, these demon, creature, fallen God, whatever it may be called, seeped itself into the forest, became one with it, and wrought furious retribution on the town.

[The shadow puppets begin to show the chaos. Flames, vines, monsters, and all the distressed towns people.]

At the every end, a few of the remaining people got together and scrounged up aaaaall the magic they could so they could try one last thing, to escape the wrath of the creature.

They cast a spell, sending the souls of the townspeople into the ether, past the afterlife proper, to be reborn.

[lovelyredthread]

[ The word greed brings to mind the description he was given of one of the ancients. He's pretty sure one of them was described as being particularly greedy, but that she tended to also share her wealth. Abundance, opposite of Destruction, as he remembered. He doesn't envy her going against uncle Burning Spice.

Either way the story is haunting to say the least. Given this was allegedly the story of why they were here, he was making some connections that he almost wished he didn't make. He's turning it over in his head, wings curling to wrap around his shoulders as though the delicate things would protect him at all.

He wants to ask why. He wants to ask... why take it out on innocent people who had no hand in sealing him. But he looks up at his father- his father who had committed atrocities out of loneliness and pain, and he realizes that it just didn't matter. They sat by and let him rot there just like the fairies let the Beast Cookies rot inside the Silver Tree. Guilt through inaction, maybe.

Understanding made it no less scary to grapple with. That's not even touching the implication of his soul not being his own. He stares quietly at the shadows, the carnage they depict.

"Don't worry my dear, you'll be safe in here." Pavlova feels the phantom touch of his mother's hand on his cheek as she hid him away. The screams rang in his ears. The panic of the Garden's other cookies. He'd wanted to help evacuate them, but...

To this day he's not sure if that was his mother's final act of love for him or if she simply refused to let go of him or anyone else. He may never know.

He rubbed quietly at his eyes, willing away the dampness. He's already cried too much. He's supposed to be cheerful. Pavlova lets out a breath and looks to his father once more, checking if there were more or if he could speak now. ]

[jesterlies]

[Pavlova is a smart boy, and he can tell already there's a lot he's already strung together, even with him telling this in such a dramatic way. Once he pauses there, letting Pavlova take in everything for a moment, he waits watching his expression.]

[And he wordlessly lets him sort out his own tears. He won't tell him not to cry, because what they are dealing with is quite scary, but he won't stop him from self soothing either.]

...And so the curtain rises on the Grove as we know it now. Those souls once cast out into the cosmos, having been reborn and lived their lives, perhaps multiple lives, get called back in. Snatched by the Forest entity that decided it wasn't done breaking its toys.

[The shadows show, for a moment, the figure of a tall man standing before ...a much more recognizable Shadow Milk, with his long, writhing hair. The taller man raises a spear, but before anything is shown the shadows wash over, fading it to black.]

We're stuck here, Little Cherub, sealed on all sides into this little town like a bubble. Like the Garden. I'm afraid you've traded one prison for another, and this one is all the more dangerous.

cw: underage nihilism; slight emeto

[lovelyredthread]

[ The news that they're trapped isn't a surprise, but it does get a humorless little huff of a laugh out of the boy. Because of course. Of course even in a situation like this he couldn't be free. It might be bigger, it might be smaller. It being a new cage didn't make it less of one and he confirmation only made the tears well up again. ]

I-I guess if I was gonna be crumbled either way the how doesn't really matter.

[ Maybe it was a little better that it wouldn't be his own mother doing it, though. He often wondered if her lingering attachment hadn't gotten him out of more severe punishments before. He wouldn't have that luxury here.

It takes him a moment to process the rest after the horror of that reveal. Shaking hands find the forgotten mug of tea that's gone cold, and he sips it quietly, attempting not to spill. He's not thirsty really, but taking something in, focusing on the taste is how he's trying to stave off throwing up.

He cries so quietly, grasps so tightly for control when he's scared. It's no wonder why that is, but it's hard not to notice when he takes something so undeniably horrifying and won't allow himself more than a couple tears over it. ]

S... so we were originally from here..?

[ That's somehow the hardest part to consider. The idea that he had ever been free even fleetingly. That he hadn't always been Pavlova Cookie. Had he still been Shadow Milk's son..? He hopes so. ]

[jesterlies]

No one will be crumbling you.

[It's said with such a sharpness. Unyielding and absolute. If the Forest so much as lays a hand on Pavlova he will find every one of his leyline anchors and set them aflame once more.]

[But he gives Pavlova time to let that settle, to cry his quiet tears while he thinks over their situation, Tries to find his own sense of calm because the more he thinks about it, the more he's angry about- everything. About Pavlova getting dragged here to be the Forest's plaything, about what might be happening in the Garden of Delights, what Eternal Sugar has been doing to his wings-]

[His hair, short as it is, puffs up a little. The eyes are visibly closed and have been closed all this time.]

Mm. It sounds absurd, trust me, I thought so too, but I've confirmed much of it as Truth between ...myself and the holder of the Soul Jam of Truth. I've found records, belongings, and other things that belonged to my previous self. If we look around, I'm sure we'll find the same for you.

[He wonders, though, how Pavlova fits in. He will have to go through Seamus' writings again, to find out if any names stand out.]

[lovelyredthread]

[ His dad is so sure of that, but he just... can't be. Not yet when so much is unknown. Not when, from his father's own story, he'd fought this demon once and lost. It is a little bit comforting though. It makes him feel loved. He hasn't felt that in a while. ]

How many of the Ancients are here?

[ It feels weird calling them that when he's from an older time period, but he's not stupid enough to call them "heroes". The question is quiet and scared. He hadn't shown it with White Lily Cookie, but he was scared they'd want to hurt him. It's a very quick way to piss off at least two of the Beasts. There's a reason he kept his status quiet from Hollyberry.

... He doesn't speak at first, doesn't comment on the idea of finding his original self's things. Part of him is curious, and he knew at some point he'd want to know what his father finds about him, but... right now the idea turns his stomach. His mind fills with questions about how differently that version of him lived. Could it even be called him? What if they were completely different?

What if he'd had what Pavlova wanted? He doesn't think he can face that. ]

Okay.

[ ... he packs those ugly feelings up in a box to deal with later when he hasn't just arrived and had all this thrown at him.

His attention is quietly caught by his father's hair literally raising. He remembered when he was younger how it would billow about according to his mood, sparkling like the night sky.

He's not sure how to describe it now, and those were... eyes? In his hair? That had to be part of the corruption thing, but the first thing that came to mind was that he wouldn't be able to braid his hair if there were eyes in it.

... probably a sign that he's been through a lot, if ever there were one.

He's so tired. ]

... Was yours like you, dad?

[jesterlies]

[That question- he takes a sharp breath.]

Only ...only one, now. The other two- [He won't say dead, he refuses to say Pure Vanilla is dead, he's just. Trapped. Taken. Somewhere they can't reach, maybe beyond the door in Seamus' basement, but not dead-]

The other two are missing. Dark Cacao cookie, who has Misty's other half, and [His voice falters a little, but he moves past it quickly.] Pure Vanilla Cookie, the holder of Truth.

[He does not say "the holder of the other half of his jam" which Pavlova may pick up on. He may also pick up on the sheer wave of grief that welled up in his heart the moment he spoke of him. Don't worry about it.]

[He moves onto the subject of his past self easily, though being called "Dad" does something to him that he hadn't expected. A warmth and ...fear? That feeling of still wearing the mask of someone Pavlova loved remains with him, and it will take time for him to work through it.]

Seamus Maverick was his name. He was a school professor, accomplished in maaaany subjects, but was the most renowned for magic! So, not a shocking twist or anything, I'm afraid.

[lovelyredthread]

... Alright.

[ Oh he can certainly tell. Heartache rolls off of his father in waves, and he almost feels bad for asking... but at the same time he knew if he didn't ask he'd never be able to settle down.

Funny how in any other situation he'd be ecstatic over the doomed lovers trope. Maybe he'll look into it later. For now he's somewhat grateful he only has to deal with one. Maybe he can help find them later. Much later. He feels like he could sleep for a week, though he's also kind of scared to fall asleep. Would all of this melt away and be lost forever? Maybe this was a stress nightmare. ]

Seamus Maver... S.M.?

[ That's certainly a coincidence. Though him being a teacher and focused on magic definitely tracks. His dad did love to teach. Or, he thought he did, at least. He's still not sure what caused him to fall. ]

I guess maybe I might have been one of your students? I don't really know how this works but...

[ ... He can't see a world where he didn't at least like being around his father. ]

Oh, right um. Did you have questions for me?

[ Yes, he noticed. ]

[jesterlies]

[As they move past the subject of Pure Vanilla as quickly as possible, he does allow himself to grin, to resume a mask of levity. All this serious talk is starting to wear on him, and he doesn't like Pavlova being troubled, either. He's a jester, so none of that.]

It is rather on the nose, huh? This world finds our cookie names strange! Weird, if you ask me.

[He did love to teach. He still does, but he finds he only cares for it these days when its on his terms. When it is no longer a shackle.]

Possible! I'll have to go through the journals and writings dear Seamus left behind to see if a name stands out as yours.

[Ah, a pause. He does have questions. How is he? How's his mother. What's happening in the Garden right now. What did he remember last? Where was he all this time, that he did not age. Wh-]

Are you hungry? Tired? This sun room is pretty cozy, you know. Good place for a nap.

[lovelyredthread]

[ At the mention of a nap his gaze trails to the giant butterfly kitty still taking up residency on the couch. Maybe he'd have considered it were he not beaten to the punch, but as it was, he's not sure if there was anywhere other than the floor to take a nap now... and while that wasn't really a problem for him, he had a feeling his dad might object.

He reached up to rub quietly at his eyes, but he doesn't confirm or deny the question yet, he merely stares quietly at Marble. ]

... If I go to sleep will I wake up back there?

[ His return question is so soft, so incredibly weary that it really shouldn't have been audible. Like the words themselves were liable to whither and crumble. He glances back to his dad and seems to remember himself, though, straightening in his chair. ]

What kind of stuff do we even eat here? We look strange now.