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sticks and bones. ([personal profile] sticksandbonesmods) wrote in [community profile] sticksandbones2023-10-04 03:16 pm

Event & TDM 005

SPOOKY SCARY SKELETONS
WAKE UP
cw: immolation, sinkholes

When your eyes open, you’re lying in crisp, blackened grass. The sky is dreary, the world around you is still and silent. Were it not for the ash raining from the sky or the acrid tang of burnt flesh, it might almost feel peaceful. Familiar-feeling memories wash over you — a town burning, the cackling of an unknown beast, the shrill screams of friends and loved ones dying a slow, painful death—

Where did that memory even come from? You’d better shake it off and rise to your feet before the ash buries you, too. It isn’t real… right?

The town you’re in is dilapidated and charred. Something snaps under your feet, and when you look down, a bone lies pressed into the earth, perfectly broken into two neat pieces. You press on, toward the destroyed remains of houses — some missing roofs, some collapsed in on themselves, others still weathering the test of time — to where the trees are vibrant and orange, to where the grass has regrown and the buildings stand tall. You press on… and your foot catches in the mud, a hole opening up beneath your feet and dragging you in. If you’re quick enough, you might be able to escape the collapsing earth before it buries you alive in years of muck and decay. If not… perhaps you’ll be lucky, and someone from the nearby settlement will bail you out.

Hopefully you won’t have to wait long.
KEEP MY HEAD TOGETHER
Somewhere on your body is an intricate, black mark that doesn’t come off no matter how hard you scrub. Perhaps there are two, or even three, or more. You don’t exactly remember getting these small, medallion-sized tattoos — it’s almost as though you woke up with them. Better make sure no one’s drawing on you in your sleep.

As the day progresses, the effects of these marks become apparent. Suddenly, everything hurts — a dull, throbbing pain as if you’ve been stabbed. Perhaps the pain is quick and sharp, like you stubbed your toe on the inn’s coffee table. Perhaps it slowly burns, like hot coffee accidentally splashed on your lap. No matter what the pain is, you feel it at less of an intensity than you would if you’d actually done these things. Later, you might meet with the person who shares a mark with you, and maybe they’ll tell you — they stubbed their toe, they spilled their coffee, someone randomly stabbed them, how weird is that?

These marks link you and your partner(s) — any pain they feel, you’ll feel, too, albeit at half the intensity they do. If you’re sharing that pain between three people, it’ll be at one third the intensity.

Negative emotions, though? Those, you get at full throttle. If those you share a mark with cry, you’ll cry, too; you feel their rage at being stuck here as though it were your own; you long for home, and you miss a mother that isn’t yours. Fight through your blurring sense of self, friend. Surely you’ll get used to it soon. After all, these will stay on your body for the rest of the month.
THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
A week into October, a skeletal visitor comes rattling into the Grove, wearing a top hat on its bare cranium and a name tag on its ribcage: “Mr. Bone-Jangles”. Mr. Bone-Jangles cannot speak, but he’s very excited to take willing people into the burned town and lead them toward the far north of it, where a small army of fellow skeletons have put up a circus tent. Pumpkin-shaped flags decorate the scorched remnants of a street, and mysterious skull-shaped lights float in the air. Mr. Bone-Jangles joyfully motions to the tent, where a banner placed over the tent-flaps reads “MASKERADE”... you assume this is meant to be “masquerade”, but it would be rude to point out the spelling error. Skeletons don’t have brains.

Before you can even enter the tent, Mr. Bone-Jangles’ employees direct you to a smaller tent set up to the side, demanding with clacks of their jaws in morse code that you put on your costume and mask. Costumes are optional; masks are not. Luckily, all of these are free. The costume tent itself is entirely empty save for one giant mirror which, when gazed into, shows you standing in your outfit of choice. Once you exit the tent, you’ll be wearing that outfit, and the skeletons will hand you a wooden mask in any design you feel suits you, matching or not. Where did your old clothing wind up? Great question! They’ll be teleported back to your bed in a wrinkled heap, but you don’t have to worry about that until the party stops. And speaking of that mask… when you put it on between the party start at 10pm and end at 6am, it won’t come off no matter how hard you pull until 6:01am approximately.

The skeletons insist you don’t try to tug your skin off, though, and instead direct you inside the masquerade tent itself. It’s almost akin to being teleported to another dimension — a grand ballroom is decorated with classic Halloween decorations, a buffet of spooky-themed snacks is laid out on the tables, the music is almost too loud, and a lounge is set up off to the side for those who’d like to rest between dances. If you lack a dance partner, worry not — the skeletons are more than happy to waltz with you. And, if you’re of age, they’ll serve you any liquor you’d like.

Stay too late, though, and the skeletons will kick you out. They’re stronger than they look and aren’t afraid to toss you like a wet rag onto the burnt streets. Once the party ends for the night, you won’t be able to get back into the tent no matter how hard you try, so don’t leave anything behind!
DON’T CHASE THE DEAD
Turns out, the masquerade isn’t just for one night, but for every night for the rest of the month. On the second night of the masquerade and on from there, ghosts appear in droves, gathering at the party and in the burned town for a night out. No matter how hard you try, you can’t get their attention; they’ll merely pass right through you as if you aren’t there.

Some of the ghosts look eerily familiar to you, like people you knew in the past who aren’t here now. It could be your mother, your brother, a close friend, or maybe your old neighbour or coworker. Each is dressed in masquerade attire, each intends only to party until the sun comes up, and at that point, each ghost fades from the world as if dissolving away into nothingness.

They’ll be back the next night, of course. And the next. And the one after that. Until finally, the last day of the month rolls around, and the ghosts aren’t there. If you come to the burned town at 6am, you’ll be greeted by the sight of the skeletons packing up their tents and decorations. And if you stick around until 7…

Mr. Bone-Jangles takes off his top hat and takes a bow, waves one last goodbye, and then him and his skeleton crew take a dive into the sinkhole that was, somehow, underneath the masquerade tent the whole time.
SPARK NOTES
CLICK TO EXPAND!
You find yourself in a burned-down town. As you try to leave, a sinkhole opens beneath your feet and sucks you in. Screaming for help is a viable option.

Everyone is now sharing pain and negative emotions. Please try not to get stabbed so that your partner(s) don't have to also feel stabbed. You can pair up with as few or as many people as you want, as long as you're paired up with minimum one other person.

Welcome to the masquerade! Mr. Bone-Jangles hopes you have a good time. Masks and Halloween costumes are provided free of charge, but be careful, because donning the masks between 10pm and 6am makes them unable to be removed until the party stops at 6. There's tons of food and drink, and liquor for those who are old enough to have it. Just don't stay past the party's end or the skeletons will yeet you out onto the street.

The masquerade goes for the rest of the month, and after day 1, it'll be frequented by ghosts who look like people from your past. They don't seem to notice you and will float through you if you stand in their way. At the end of the month, the skeletons pack up the party, the ghosts disappear, and the skeletons jump into a sinkhole underneath the masquerade tent. Goodbye! Happy Halloween! Mr. Bone-Jangles sends his regards.

Welcome to the fifth TDM & Event Log of Sticks and Bones! This log is game canon. The prompts are meant for all players, current and future, so have fun! Our applications operate on a rolling basis, so applications are open with no end date unless we suddenly cap players. If there are any questions, please direct them to the "questions" header below.

❖ None yet!

TDM TOPLEVELS!
crescentoftheabyss: (Default)

Woljif Jefto | Pathfinder: WOTR | TDM

[personal profile] crescentoftheabyss 2023-10-21 09:37 pm (UTC)(link)
I. - WAKE UP
[When he wakes, Woljif is sure he’s having a nightmare. It’d hardly be new for him, after all, too much time spent with the smell of smoke and sound of screams lingering in his senses for his dreams to stay free of them. He squeezes his eyes shut, insists to himself that he’ll wake soon for real, and it will be over.

But, if this is a nightmare, it’s a new one. He’s not trapped, pacing his tiny jail cell like a caged animal while he listens to his city burn. He’s not crouched, small as he can make himself, watching gargoyles fly off with the soldiers he’d been making camp with. He can’t hear the raucous cackling of any demons. Most notably, though, he can actually feel the ash in his throat, and when he finally gets up, it’s with a jolt as he starts to cough.]


Okay! Okay. Not sleepin’. Great.

[He picks himself up, brushes the gathered ash off of his leather armor - glad to see he could keep that, at least. The thought prompts him to check the rest of his belongings, and while he’s glad to find his daggers where he left them, he’d be much happier with the rest of his equipment on hand.]


Now, what in the Hells have you gotten into?

[He’s barely managed a few steps when he feels his footing slip and the ground underneath him give way. Luckily, Woljif, among many things, prides himself on his quick reflexes, and while the startled sound that escapes him might not be the most dignified, he bounds backwards, landing alert and ready, spade-tipped tail lashing behind him. He straightens up, looking around, nervous, to be sure nobody witnessed him nearly fall.]



II. - THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
[Tieflings in Mendev don’t get invited to fancy parties. Or, at least, Thieflings sure don’t. Woljif’s experience with anything like a masquerade is limited in scope, and mostly consists of hiding somewhere outside the event, where he might pick some drunk, rich pockets as they make their way out.

It’s clear from a glance that he’s uncomfortable, posture stiff, movements fidgety, and his tail agitated behind him. Still, the skeletons dressed him well, in simple black and grey, letting the purple of his skin be all the more vibrant. Every so often, a hand comes up to fiddle with the edges of a mask he’s much less happy with - reminiscent of a goat’s skull, and even made to sit right against the base of his own curling horns, as if they were growing out of it directly.

He spends most of his time at the Maskerade being a wallflower, standing awkwardly at the edges of the room, or sitting in the lounge, but he certainly gives in to some old habits here and there, if he thinks he can slip something interesting out of any pockets.]


III. - WILDCARD
[Hi hello! Testing my boy here after I’ve been away from DWRP for a long, long time, hope y’all don’t mind. Also hope it's fine I'm extremely late to this. If you’re interested in one of the other prompts or in doing something else entirely, please go right ahead, or message this account if you wanna plot something out first.]
amethystic: (027)

i, apologies for the delay! i love tiefs....

[personal profile] amethystic 2023-10-24 08:30 pm (UTC)(link)
( she'd been trying to explore a bit more, but every trip to the ruins feels like a rescue mission at this point. just how many people were dropped into this hellhole? the forest is so rude, honestly.

and, from the sounds of it, this attempt is no different. she can hear a voice, and- ah, hell, did someone fall into a sinkhole again? felicity puts the book she'd been inspecting down and summons her broom, immediately jumping onto it and gliding through the air- )


I heard something! Is everything okay over here?
crescentoftheabyss: (abject terror)

no worries! not like i didn't show up here a full 2 weeks late lmao

[personal profile] crescentoftheabyss 2023-10-26 04:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[He's still on high alert, full of adrenaline and nervous energy from the near-fall, and the sound of a voice he didn't expect has him whirling to face her, and there's a moment where one could almost see the calculations running through his head. The area's open, but with the sinkhole behind him and the footing around him unsure, she's blocking the best escape route. Can he fight? Maybe, but he'd rather let himself get captured than take on a fight solo, and he can't get a good bearing on her ability just from a look. Spellcaster? Most likely, since he can't see an obvious weapon or armor, but why shell out for the fancy flying broom when you can just magic yourself up in the air? No way, if she's affording that then she's either a bigger name than he wants to tangle with or has the backing of an organization he's definitely not touching.

That's about as far as he gets, mind flying through these possibilities in a single moment, before he realizes that her expression isn't aggressive, and the question was one of concern. There's a moment where he seems lost, straightening up and clearing his throat - no ma'am, you didn't just see me panicking, and if you did, it was some other dashing purple fellow.]


Uh. Yeah, all in one piece, no thanks to this big hole comin' up out'a nowhere.
Might be a bit lost, though. Think you can point me in the direction of Drezen?
amhran: (229)

II. - THE BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE

[personal profile] amhran 2023-10-26 05:29 pm (UTC)(link)
[ omg hello!!! There have been some in house rp stuff going on, but i HAVE BEEN MEANING TO COME BACK TO THIS!!! ]

Hello!

[ An Elven woman comes out of nowhere, with her head suddenly dropping down from the side as she is bent over. Entering suddenly into his peripheral! That stealth of hers, coming into effect here! She seemed to regard the other with bright glimmering eyes, blue oceans that swirl about within her optics all glittered with stars inside of them. ]

You are a tiefling!? Yes!?
crescentoftheabyss: (pensive)

[personal profile] crescentoftheabyss 2023-10-26 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Woah-

[He startles a little in his seat, only barely stopping himself from jumping away. It's only a second, though, and then he's pulling himself together, straightening the lapels of a jacket that's much more fine than he's used to.]

... I don't usually see people so excited about that idea.
amhran: (109)

[personal profile] amhran 2023-10-26 06:59 pm (UTC)(link)
O-Oh! [ Caoimhe blinks, her confusion laid out plain for anyone to see. ] I-Is that so...? I have only met two other Tieflings before... They were twins...

[ AND did bad things but that's okay... ]

Otherwise, in all the centuries I have lived. I have yet to see any other.
crescentoftheabyss: (smirk)

[personal profile] crescentoftheabyss 2023-10-26 10:46 pm (UTC)(link)
[His eyebrows raise, hidden by the goat-skull mask.]

Only two? Huh. Back in Kenabres, you could hardly throw a rock without hittin' one of us.

[Woljif moves, leaning back enough to give her an appraising look. Then, he smiles, and pats a seat next to him, inviting her to join him.]

Well, tell you what. You seem like a nice enough lass, and I'm sure you got questions about us, so. Why don't you take a seat by good ol' brother Woljif and we'll see if I can't answer 'em. 10 gold a pop, sound fair?
amhran: (pic#16415931)

[personal profile] amhran 2023-10-26 10:55 pm (UTC)(link)
10 Gold... Oh I do not have much on me right now... But within my bag of holding - ah yes. I could pay the amount.

[ Caoimhe just settles beside him, accepting the cost with a straight face. ]

Um... You... Said that so casually... Is that true - why would they throw rocks at you?

[ Although she was from Toril, she came from a place remote and cut off from the rest of the world - or Faerun itself. Racism exists plenty, especially unto the Elves, especially within the westernlands. However, to tieflings who barely existed within Grandall. They were more treated as rare folk, who oftentimes were so nonexistent, that they were unimportant in that way.]

That is no way to treat any living kind.