EVENT & TDM 032

[sticksandbonesmods]

HERE I AM.

OUR SOLAR SYSTEM

You feel heavy.

It is not the heaviness of a burden nor a sorrowful heart. It’s the heaviness of fatigue, deep-rooted, yet without the urge to sleep. It’s the heaviness of your eyelids, telling you to close your eyes and embrace the end as you stare skywards toward the object that now hovers by the sky’s ever-changing moons. Now gouged open as if carved by careless blade-wielding hands, each moon — rapidly flickering between your world’s moon and the next world’s, instead of their usual pattern of switching night by night like rotating guardsmen — seems to bleed, the glowing reddish fluid of cosmic blood disappearing beyond the horizon. Through these open wounds, the object — the Iris — casts a beam of light down into Aldric’s Grove and the surrounding forest, blinding in its intensity.

The woods seem to shudder. Something within them shrieks, furious, hungry. Below the earth, something else skitters, a sound akin to millions of insects crawling at once, rumbling beneath the soil. Along the horizon blinks one yellow-glowing light, then two, then four, then eight, all staring directly into the Grove. When you gaze back at the sky, the inorganic movement of the Iris meets your own eyes, staring back at you, twitching. Observing.

It is with you now. Laughing at you. The presence of it and whatever it brought with it weighs, in that cosmic sense of the word. It steals from you your powers, your magic — it steals from the Guardians the same, and silences the Heavens, a final shriek from the Sun Goddess all you hear echoing through the night sky before…

Silence.

When you turn around, the Grove seems more occupied than before. People — are they people? — stand stone-still amidst those of you still moving, their arms distended in unnatural poses and their mouths moving as though they’re figuring out how to use their muscles to produce sound. Several long minutes of discomfort pass, of teeth clicking and jaws gnashing, before one of them finds its voice.

“New things roam the feeding grounds.”

WILDERNESS SURVIVAL GUIDE

cw: extreme body horror, parasitism

Flesh — or something similar to it — grows in short spires within the forest, reaching red-and-brown tendrils toward buildings like stubborn vines, spreading into the Grove like warts. Within the masses, sometimes, you can see limbs twisted at inhuman angles and lengths, fingertips too numerous and mismatched, and human faces moving their jaws soundlessly. It’s as though the flesh mass had absorbed something, maybe someone or several someones. “Nature’s Mockery” is what Heimr begins to call it in a fit of startling fury — those of you who have been here long enough know that Heimr’s rage is reserved only for the most vile of villains and, well, this seems to have taken the title away from the False God himself for the time being. One touch on any part of your body renders you paralysed, hallucinating as your flesh begins to melt into it. You can be saved, of course, if you’re found quickly enough before assimilation — ripped from the mass at the potential loss of a body part — though the root left behind in your skin should be dealt with too.

Despite the Iris’ suppression of everyone’s abilities and the Grove’s general magic, the inn somehow remains a bastion in the storm. The Fake People gliding across the ground outside like nearly-deflated balloons, moving without purpose or sensation, cannot enter it, nor can the Nature’s Mockery somehow slip through an unattended open window. Sometimes when you look outside, you can see the Fake People congregating, most unmoving and a handful sliding back and forth through the winter snow without leaving footsteps behind.

At night, you can hear them. They stole the voices of the people they once were.

“HELP! HELP ME! …HELP! SOMEONE!”

“Till? Till, are you there?”

“Kyojuro, come outside!”

“Min-Gi? Ryan? It’s me! Let me in, they’re out here!”

It is only when someone leaves the inn or their home or a nearby business that they charge at you with intent to convert and feed, twisted hands pinning you down, too-wide mouths biting, pushing you into the Nature’s Mockery and leaving you after you’ve been subdued. Then, they glide away unbothered to seek out their next victim.

HOME INVASION HELP

cw: extreme body horror, parasitism, stalking, insect-related horror, vore

Listen, under your feet. Crawling through the floor. Do you hear them? Do you hear the banging against the walls, the cracking of your home’s foundation? See the insectoid limb pushing through the floor and trying to grab you and drag you into the earth? Or do you hear the knocking at your door as they attempt to lure you out?

Look to the horizon. Do you see lights? Return to the inn. Your home does not belong to you now.

You emerge from the building to the tune of creatures skittering through the forest on insectoid legs, their heights varying from four to fifteen feet tall, with glowing eyes — or heads. Their forms are nearly impossible to make out — your vision wobbles with vertigo when you try to look directly into those lights for too long — yet you can easily see that within their upper body anatomy is a proboscis, hanging down like an extra limb and waiting to feed. They chase you through the trees at a breakneck pace, attempting to pierce you with their probosci, scuttling arms moving silently across the freshly-fallen snow.

The Woodcrawlers, Renard names them, after noting that their limbs have an almost wooden quality to them and that they, well, crawl. He says that name with a stiff, awkward laugh, as though trying to lighten a mood that cannot possibly be lightened. As the inn door clicks shut behind you, assuming you made it at all, you can hear them. They scramble for purchase on the bricks, they knock on the door, they crawl to the rooftops and nest, and they stare through the windows with their disorienting lights.

Do not let them catch you. If they do, when they do, they will pry your jaws apart and enter your mouth via proboscis, sliding down your throat as your flesh is reshaped, stealing your body and rendering you hollow. A Fake Person. They stole your voice, which they will use freely to lure your peers out while you await your resurrection. And when you come back three days later, your old body is still ambling around, and your voice fails to cry out for three more.

If they catch you and you weasel away, though, you’ll find something under your skin, waiting to turn you into something else.

SHIFTING TENDONS

cw: extreme body horror, supernatural diseases & mutations

Should you make contact with a Woodcrawler or Nature’s Mockery and survive the encounter, you’ll notice a small lump under your skin where they touched you, reddish-brown in colour like a pimple. You may think nothing of it at first. For those first few hours, the spot feels hollow when pressed down, until the process of rooting begins. The boil turns redder, tiny sores appearing around the area and spreading outwards like a rash. Leave it alone for just a few hours more, and you’ll feel that root wiggling under your skin as it grows longer, until such a point where it reaches a bone… and after that, it’s too late.

Deep Root Disease is incurable, after all, unless you forcibly rip the foreign object from your body in time, tearing it from tissue to the tune of potentially bleeding out.

The root fuses with your muscle tissue. It assimilates with your neurons, creating further bulbs in your skin and bones, and causing erratic muscle spasms. Your limbs lengthen, your jaw distends, your bones multiply, and your body reddens as flesh decays into long, red strands, as though you were made of yarn all along. Shifting tendons reshape your anatomy, and you have become something else — something unmoving, something that has melted into whatever you were standing or sitting on, something that cannot speak but can move its eyes and think… only for so long, as your memories gradually decay along with your form.

But that? That takes longer. If no one finds you and burns your life away out of mercy, you may very well live like this, undiscovered, in your own madness, without even dreams to comfort you. Should you be found and put out of your misery, your resurrection three days later will have your body stiff and almost immobile for 72 hours after the fact… but at least you’re free.

Outside in the Grove, wretched hands scrape against your window, and a stranger’s fangs scrape the walls. The river flows, but not with water.

The Iris watches.

Spark Notes (Click to Expand)

summary

OUR SOLAR SYSTEM: The moons have been mutated, the heavens are silenced and disconnected from the rest of the Grove, and a host of horrors show up due to a new celestial object in the sky. Your abilities are all shut off with what feels like a button press, too.
WILDERNESS SURVIVAL GUIDE: Outside, the Fake People try to lure you so that they can trap you. The Nature's Mockery grows uninhibited, trying to fuse you into it. Luckily neither of these things can get into the inn, but that doesn't stop them from trying.
HOME INVASION HELP: Within your homes, the forest, and crawling all over every building they can in an attempt to get to you are Woodcrawlers. Getting caught means they'll enter your throat and become You, a Fake Person. If you touch them and manage to get away, you may have a root to contend with.
SHIFTING TENDONS: Those who came into contact with Woodcrawlers and Nature's Mockery are subject to "Deep Root Disease", which is only solveable within the first few hours after touching either creature. If you fail to rip the root from your body, though, you'll become a fleshy mass, still living and with only some of your thoughts intact. Be careful.

out of character

Happy 2026! Casual reminder that TDMs are game canon, and for our existing players, that regular AC resumes from here. The mods do not apologise for breaking the setting really badly this month. This month's event is based on Gemini Home Entertainment, which can be watched free on YouTube for the curious, or coverage and analysis of it can be found here.

updates

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

submissions

❖ Questions
❖ January Plotting
❖ Past Life Plotting (Closed to Game Members)
❖ Investigations

code

Comments

QUESTIONS

[sticksandbonesmods]

Questions from the plotting post already answered:

- PC-owned pets/creatures are unaffected by Deep Root Disease and ignored by other threats; wild animals are not, and turned into Woodcrawlers if caught.

- Shapeshifting/transformation abilities will be shut off/nerfed for the event duration. The form the character took before the Iris beamed threats into the Grove is the form they will be stuck in (up to player discretion).

- Magic items that give a combat edge will lose their abilities

- If a PC who owns the mind-communication bracelets from the BAC store becomes afflicted with Deep Root Disease, they can still communicate with them, but due to their deteriorating mental state, it might not go well :)

- Characters with strong affinity for the moon previously may notice that they have different cosmetic effects going on (for specifics please ask here), but in general they may feel slightly sick or worse for the duration of the event, and any "glowing" effects from the moon may instead take on the Iris' nasty orange-red shade instead.

INVESTIGATIONS

[sticksandbonesmods]

Please use the following form for investigations:

Character(s):
Location:
Action: What are they looking for? What are they doing?

<b>Character(s):</b> <b>Location:</b> <b>Action:</b>

[mooninthewater]

Character(s): Mizuki, Wolfwood
Location: ?????? Outside
Action: Hi yes, the boys are boying. Namely, whatever there is to investigate regarding ? The Skyeye, or the voices, or anything. Mizuki may even very well try to make a shooing motion at the sky like ? Go away?

[divinechains]

Character(s): Ras
Location: From inside the Inn
Action: He would like to try and see... if he can figure out... where the magic is going? Like he can he feel it actively leaving him before it's replenished? Can he see it? Is it going somewhere, or just dissipating? Obviously it's affecting the Guardians, too, but is there any other native magic that seems to be schlorped?

Mitsuri Kanroji | Demon Slayer | new character, old player

[lovebreath]

1) arrival

[one minute, Mitsuri is falling, her hand clasped tightly to someone else's. yet, when she lands, the new place doesn't feel right. she doesn't feel right. where had Muzan taken her? can this still even be called his lair? where are the Kasugai crows, the demons, the Slayers?

though her body is heavy, Mitsuri is on guard, standing now, still dressed in her uniform, her hand on the hilt of her special sword. she doesn't recognize anything, but that's not what bothers her. eventually, she sees the moon. or, moons, as it were. they look very sick, very bloody. she shudders. someone else may have to come get her and explain things, otherwise, Mitsuri will continue to stand there and stare up at the sky in horror]

2) the world before her

[as the days progress, Mitsuri finds that the horrors do not stop at the moons. even in the presence of friends, she cannot help but feel weird in this world. at least she can be helpful, like when it comes to fighting monsters and bizarre antagonistic creatures. mostly, she's been trying to get a feel for the town, but, every now and then, the Grove may hear her echoing screams as she discovers something new and scary about this place. you may find her slashing wildly at Woodcrawlers, or trying to help someone else who has come across them]

EEEEEEE! Go away go away GO AWAY!!!!

3) some downtime

[the inn seems to be safe, and, so, that is where Mitsuri spends her evenings, unless she's outside fighting. she is only human. she needs her rest, too. with a sigh, she sips her cocoa, trying to ignore the screams of monsters in the distance. maybe she's sitting with you, unease creasing her brows]

Is... this place always like this?

[she's smiling, but it's a forced smile, sweat dripping down her jaw and cup clattering as she trembles]

4) wildcard

[for all your other needs! please feel free to reach out if you want to plot, or you can slap a prompt down here! Mitsuri will not be dying (this time), but she is happy to help you fight off baddies!]

downtime

[chonomai]

( shinobu has taken over medical attention as the head healer(s?) seem to rely on magic more- though she's sure the others have non-magical medical practice, this is her entire empire so to speak. but then she hears a voice as she's checking the supplies gathered and

drops the clipboard, running to the lobby, eyes wide and face pale- )

Mitsuri?!

arrival

[infinitemist]

[ He's been patrolling a lot at night just out of habit, honestly. With the moons how they are now, he's on high alert for some kind of threat to show itself, and he is prepared to prevent any innocents from getting involved.

... That said, he's really not expecting the shock of pink and green hair that he finds staring up at the moon. He can't really blame anyone for that kind of reaction. it looks horrific. ]

... Kanroji?

[ He doesn't relax, not knowing this could be a mind trick. ]

Quick, what is something only you would know?

Downtime

[namuthing]

[Genya isn't sure when this woman arrived, nor why she decided to sit down beside him, but he's been ramrod straight since she plopped on down. His gaze remains locked forward, while his face blazes red enough to rival Rengoku's hair.]

It's - [Did she say something? Fuck, what did she say, dammit - ] Uh. Huh?

the world before her

[tempurahair]

[Ever vigilant as Kyojuro is, he has not had time to take stock of the new arrivals — at least the ones that truly live and breathe. Though his techniques have been severely limited, he is a swordsman first and foremost, and that means he must stay on guard to keep the Inn the bastion that it is.

And it keeps him mindful of the horrible, terrible voices that call to him. He knows better than to charge out with open arms, but he cannot simply ignore them either. So he ventures out, slays what he must, and keeps his routine up.

... This new voice, though, is especially cruel. He moves even faster toward the sound than usual, blade outstretched. Though the movements of fourth form lack their usual flaming flair, they still cut through a swath of enemies easily enough. It's enough to at least briefly hold the woodcrawlers back as he turns to the newcomer and assesses her.

She lacks the unnatural movements of the Others. Her mouth is the right size. She even moves as Mitsuri should. By all means, the sight of her makes Kyojuro's heart seize and stutter like it should, spying yet another face left behind.

And yet this place has made him wary. Where he should be surging forward and embracing her, he keeps his blade extended, watching her intently with mismatched eyes, the previously missing one black where it should be white.]

If it is truly you, Kanroji, turn and flee now. The inn is not far. It will grant you safety.

[If it truly is her, she'll be able to enter. If not... Well, he'll deal with that later.]

Lyle | Look Outside | returning player/new character :)

[kisscam]

CW: body horror, giant spiders, please see my opt-out for more warnings sorry (not sorry) for playing only freaks

[A - Woodcrawlers...?]

[As the dim light of dawn creeps over the Grove, the skittering of limbs on wood begins to settle. The danger has not passed, but for now, it sleeps.

... or does it?

A wide shadow passes through the trees. Like the Woodcrawlers, it moves on a multitude of clicking and tapping limbs, its form hidden beneath a dark and heavy cloth. It whirs like clockwork, moving slowly, cautiously... it turns, and in the light its eyes look like two white discs, staring directly at you.

Beneath the edges of its cloak... is that the glint of teeth, drooling with hunger? It adjusts itself too quickly to see, cloth pulled up tightly around itself. The figure steps closer, then hesitates, staring from afar with a palpable anxiety.

Assuming you're not already running, slamming a door, or opening fire, it calls out in a stuttering voice.]

H-hey! Hi there! Please don't run! O-OR SHOOT! I'm sane, I promise!

[He(?) waves a hand frantically, the other keeping his cloak pinned firmly in place. He sounds surprisingly normal... but isn't that exactly what a body-snatching monster would say? Hmm.]

[B - Wilderness Survival]

[Maybe the danger doesn't sleep after all. Maybe you've made a mistake—touched something you shouldn't have, opened a door to someone wrong, lingered where they might find you. Whatever the case, you're in a tough situation now: cornered, outnumbered, maybe even paralyzed.

At first, the situation only seems to worsen. Something new skitters into the fray, large and wrapped in cloth and crawling on dozens of legs. It lashes out with every limb at its disposal, sharp metal tips shredding through flesh and bone like spears, swinging something that looks like a wooden staff with another set of limbs...

But it—he—only attacks them. Pulls you free, if you need it, with hands that almost look human. His body churns with mechanical clicks, closing off one side from the enemy.]

Th-this way! I can hold them off!

[C - Home Invasion]

[Eventually, Lyle makes it safely to the inn. It's been a rough day—not that the past two weeks have been much better, but at least before he was somewhere familiar. At least he had Sam. He could endure any apocalypse if Sam was there with him.

He's trying not to dwell on it, but it's hard. For now, he's sprawled in the corner of the lobby, his many metal legs poking out from beneath the heavy cloak. He's less intimidating in the light, though it's obvious from his sheer size that he's not a human... most humans don't have an extra abdomen, for starters. He leans forward, head resting on something hidden beneath the cloak, staring blankly at the fire with rounded, lens-like eyes.

... until he hears someone enter the room, or speak, or make any kind of noise, really. He startles to attention, a whirlwind of mechanical clicks as he draws in all his legs and turns towards the source. He smiles nervously within the shadows of his hood—alas, his smile is a little too wide to seem even slightly comforting.]

Uh. Hey! H-how's it going?

[D - Wildcard]

((aw yeah bitches it's Lavvy back on her bullshit, feel free to hit me up on discord/BlueFlewFedUQueen if you wanna do a different thing. also feel free to just go nuts if your character would ???? shoot Lyle or w/e he will understand. he won't be happy about it and he might cry but like That's Fair, he gets it))

A... meeting of the freaks

[experayment]

[Oh, this one is sentient? Very interesting... this will be noted in his medical logs after he dissects—

Ahem.

Ray was mere seconds from hurling a vial of poison at Lyle, sorry, but he'll lower his arm and actually entertain conversation.]

Are you one of them?

[Let's see if this thing will answer honestly. It doesn't look like the other horrors, but that doesn't mean much.]

A!

[ichoosefight]

[ Steph has her bo staff up and ready to fight the moment something starts to approach her. She's ready to meet that charging attack and send the creature flying in the opposite direction, but pauses. It isn't charging.

She narrows her eyes. It sounds like a person, but you can never be sure around here. ]

Alright, you have 20 seconds.

[Meanwhile, she will be here in her fighting stance. ]

Corbeau | Pokemon Legends: Z-A | Current Player, Current Character

[loansharpedo]

A) Our Solar System | The Inn | OTA

[Corbeau has taken Dipper and Stan's advice to prepare very seriously.

He may not have been here for long, but he recognizes a strange phenomenon when he sees one, and the moon seems...wrong. Incorrect. The way it changes, fluctuates...it's not natural, heralding something worse to come. So, he stocks up on supplies. Food, water, extra blankets, anything that the Inn already has he goes around taking stock of, trying to mark down what's available and in what quantities just to make sure they can weather whatever storm is coming for as long as is needed. He has no frame of reference for the time here after all (of which it is very timey and even more wimey), so it's best to be safe than sorry. He even spent quite a bit of time gathering as many shells and coins as he could find from the riverbank to exchange for extra supplies that aren't necessarily just food and water, things that could be deemed useful in such a crisis.

He has no idea that the Inn will soon become one of the only really safe places in the entire Grove, but that just makes the preparations all the more important.

If you happen to be here, either because you already live in the Inn or you're taking precautions early before shit really hits the fan, Corbeau will approach with a cup of tea in hand regardless to offer.]

I wasn't sure if you took milk or sugar with your tea, so I left it without.

B) Home Invasion Help | The Grove | OTA

[The lights of the Woodcrawlers are impossible to miss. They bring with them a unique sense of unease, of foreboding. To anyone (most everyone, really) who sees them, they're horrifying monstrosities that are best to be given the widest berth imaginable, because God knows what they intend to do. They want in, but they can't be let in.

Corbeau isn't a fool. He knows better than to just open up the doors freely to any creature seeking solace from the cold, but at the same time...when he sees the Woodcrawlers for the first time, he isn't struck with terror or disgust. They're strange to be sure, but they're no stranger than the large bugs he's frequently surrounding himself with. Anyone who has looked at Scolipede for more than a few minutes would be well aware of that fact. Though he may have a smart head on his shoulders, Corbeau is not immune to his own curiosity and thirst for knowledge...and it's still unfortunately very early in the arrival of these creatures.

He doesn't yet know what they are. What they do.

He and Scolipede venture outside, and like a chorus waiting to begin, hundreds of glowing lights swivel to stare. Corbeau is lucky- so, so lucky- that they don't all come crashing through the trees at once (no, they haven't gotten that close to the inn yet), but that doesn't mean they don't approach. Several of varying sizes start to rush his way, prompting Scolipede to rumble and place himself between his trainer and the approaching beasts. Scolipede throws his head like an unruly horse, managing to completely hurl a 4-foot Woodcrawler off its legs and back into the trees from where it came. It's as he's dispatching a second that Corbeau snatches an empty Pokeball from his pocket and hurls it at the considerably-larger 6-foot insectoid that's loping towards him.

The ball bounces harmlessly off it's "face", and before Corbeau can react, he's been completely tackled to the ground as the Woodcrawler sinks its proboscis into the fleshy part of where his neck meets his left shoulder. He can't bite back the howl of pain that alerts Scolipede to his plight, who comes over and immediately starts trying to stomp on the thing to try to get it off his trainer.

They need help. Desperately.]

C) Shifting Tendons | The Inn | Closed to Urbain

[Somehow, through the grace of the Goddesses or maybe just sheer dumb luck, Scolipede manages to drag his trainer back into the Inn by the collar of his suit, the Inn door slamming shut behind them to the tune of many, MANY Woodcrawlers scrambling, knocking, begging to be let inside. By the time the doors and windows are fettered, they've nested on the roof, stick-bugging idly as if knowing it's only a matter of time before they catch their next victim unaware.

Scolipede manages to pull Corbeau over to the couch if nothing else, though it's a miracle he makes it that far. The pain he's feeling right now is truly unlike anything he's ever experienced, and he's been burned, paralyzed, frozen, and poisoned by Pokémon in his time. This is...something else entirely. It's insidious, and he's afraid to remove his hand from the stab wound on his shoulder, already aware that however it looks, it must be really bad for Scolipede to be making upset sounds at him like he is. He gently lays his head against Corbeau's, giving Corbeau something to rest against for a moment as he pets the Pokémon with his other hand.]

I-it's alright...I know. I know. You did well. I'll...I'll figure something out.

[But what? He can't possibly go to the clinic right now, which is undoubtedly also overrun...]

Wildcard

[Hi all! Chi here- I didn't do OOC plotting because, to be frank, I've had a really bad time of it IRL lately so I've been taking it slower on the RP front for now while I try to get back to normal. If none of these prompts work please feel free to DM me here or on Discord and I'm happy to work something out <3]

it's for me :) just gonna preemptively cw for gore and menty b's and all that.

[justacityboy]

[These things freak Urbain the fuck out.

He has Meowstic back now at least, which has been nice, but Meowstic is also the first to alert him that something is wrong. Psychic-types are like that even without their abilities, and Urbain is heeding the warning while he tries to shut his blinds and pull the curtains over the window. He's sick of these strange things staring in at him when he's trying to do literally anything else.

Then, Meowstic suddenly grows agitated, ears lifted and an low hiss coming from him as he furiously scratches at the door. Without his telekinetic ability, he can't open it himself, and as Urbain trudges over to it to open it and ask what the hell is wrong, the Pokemon suddenly dashes into the hall and down the stairs. Corbeau will be greeted with Meowstic before anything else, and that's when Urbain hears Scolipede's distressed noises.

This can't be good. He doesn't know what he's about to see when he heads downstairs, but he has the good sense to leave his mom's jacket up here. His first thought is something is inside, and he doesn't want it getting torn up more than it already is when Naveen isn't here to help patch it up.

Urbain creeps around the corner, then downstairs, and breaks into a full sprint when he sees blood trickling over the back of the inn's sofa and hears Corbeau trying to soothe his Scolipede.]

What— [oh Arceus, they need a doctor, and he doesn't want to venture to the clinic and risk dying on the way to find one.] What happened—? Meowstic, go find the first aid kit, a-and... dammit, I'll figure something out in the meantime.

[Meowstic hops down from the sofa and sprints off down a hallway. Urbain knows he saw one somewhere, maybe in the kitchen or in his room's bathroom or... he doesn't know, he's sure his Pokemon will find it.]

Ray Damus (Death Dealer) | Epic Seven | Current Player/New Character

[experayment]

hi this man is a freak and motherfucker. i don't have a perms page yet but know that typical Ray CWs include: yandere freak shit, medical gore, unethical doctoring, necromancy, poisons, and wars. *movie voice* viewer discretion is advised.

i. clinical trial

[This almost certainly isn't Constella. Ordinarily he'd have no complaints about this — were it not for Elena, he would have left the country long ago after poisoning her parents — but the first thought in the back of his mind is that that pesky Mediator and his barking carbuncle of a girlfriend are going to disassemble every single golem in his lab while he's out. That, or Elena is going to consider their partnership null and void and make his life infinitely harder...

Suddenly "ooh there are monstersssss outsideeee" means little to him.

The laboratory here is easy enough to get into. It looks unused, though, dust gathered on bottles and the workstations proper. There isn't a dissection table, either... honestly, who was running this place?

Knock, knock, goes a Woodcrawler leg against the door, and Ray sighs with the weight of a man who has been through it all. Grabbing a vial from his belt, he boldly opens the door, dodges the leg that tries to pierce him, and hurls the vial at the creature. It shatters against its woody carapace in a sickly green cloud, and the Woodcrawler buckles, shudders, and collapses onto one side.

It is at this point that Ray meets your eyes across the way and gestures you to come closer, affixing his plague doctor's mask to his head. You know, after the fact.]

Help me drag it inside before the paralytic wears off, would you?

ii. anatomical mutation
cw: dissections

[They can be killed.

That's the most important thing that Ray comes away with. These creatures, hardy as they seem, can be murdered just as easily as any living thing can be. Their minds cross the threshold into death, and that's it. Lights out. But Ray figures out quickly that the Woodcrawlers in specific lack an ego, and bringing them back to turn into some useful sort of servant is effectively useless due to that — or maybe it isn't that they lack an ego, a form of higher thought or a thinking mind, but that that reddish moon in the sky won't let him play in the minds of its creations?

Like Elena before them, he becomes obsessed with the thought of dealing with them in his own way. Whereas the Dark Star or whatever religious yapping she was always on about had made her immune to all of his poisons and therefore unkillable, these creatures are the opposite — able to be killed but unable to be recovered. It's a shame; Ray would love useful servants that can serve as vectors for his research.

The dead Woodcrawler sits, torn to pieces, in the corner of the lab. It's an eyesore, all its buggy limbs curled in on themselves, the glow from its disorienting head organ long gone out but still with the ability to shut his full understanding of it off. He couldn't even dissect it without going blind.

So Ray is outside again, this time with a much stronger poison, this time aiming for the Fake People shuffling about. Anyone watching this might feel a sense of dread as several of them turn toward him and charge, thinking this man could die at any moment or that they're about to see someone converted to a mass of meat, but this is precisely what Ray wants. He waits until they're close enough for an overhand toss of a vial to connect, sending a dark green cloud skywards. The Fake People seize, convulse, and fall.

Despite how baffling his next decision is to any onlookers like you, he charges into the cloud just as it starts to clear, pulls a scalpel and a pair of medical scissors from his apron's pocket, and begins the arduous process of cutting one of these things open.

Just, you know. Sitting out in the snow. Not even indoors. He seems entirely nonplussed by the thought of getting killed by one of the horrors.]

If you're going to stare, [he mutters to you,] the least you could do is hold my tools.

iii. cloud of death (wildcard)

[you know what to do next!]

i

[unheiring]

[Luca wasn't particularly fond of the last person to run the lab, but he supposes very few people were. Who he is fond of is the person who liked the man running the place, and so when he sees movement inside? He feels a faint flicker of hope. Not for himself, but for Ain.

... Beasts, he really has become a bleeding heart.

And because of that, when this strange man who is almost certainly not Add (though he supposes it can't be ruled out, considering the way the people of Ain's world seem to shift in form and appearance), he feels his heart drop just as quickly. He might have turned away and ignored him after that, were it not for the fact that Luca has been noticed.

Dammit.

He trudges forward, eyes wary as he studies both the strange creatures and apparently even odder man. He isn't sure why he kneels down and helps drag this horrid creature inside. A hope for answers, maybe? On why everything has gone so thoroughly to shit?

Or maybe he just wants to know who this freak is.]

Odd way to greet someone, I must say.

Jayce Talis | Arcane | new player

[fatalis]

I. arrival + our solar system – the Grove.

The fatigue is familiar. As Jayce limps along, movements labored and sluggish, his chest heaving with effort just to fill with a negligible amount of air, he tries not to look up at the sky. The unblinking stare of the object hovering in the space he assumes a moon should be clings to his skin anyway, but he still chooses not to look. Behind him, he drags the corrupted Mercury hammer, the sharp, pointed ends of the dual heads of the hammer carving into the dirt, leaving an obvious trail behind him. Jayce knows, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he should care but he just can't. He's exhausted and just focused on pushing forward because he can't go back. That's the only thing he knows.

He can't go back.

There's nowhere left to go.

Jayce doesn't know how he got out of the ravine, if he's hallucinating this, too, but he keeps limping onward, wary of the rustling in the trees too deep for him to see anything other than the inky darkness that fills the spaces between the trunks. Only, once he looks ahead, he's stepped into the middle of something far worse than the distant threat of being watched or stalked, as he finds himself surrounded by nearly motionless... people.

They don't look like the arcane-corrupted puppets, but there is something wrong with them. Jayce catches something in his periphery — someone else, moving, alive? — and hustles as quickly as he can manage.

"We need to find a way out of here," he says, voice hoarse from alternate bouts of screaming and complete disuse, but he's insistent.

II. wilderness survival guide – inside the Inn.

Hovering by the window, Jayce stares out at the creeping vines as if he expects them to move. They have, he knows they have, but he's never noticed it moving. The only thing he's seen are the 'people', screaming into the darkness and asking for help, over and over and over again like voices recorded and played back. Almost human, almost believable, if he hadn't gotten used to the cadence, the phrases, repeating exactly the same way each time.

But sometimes, there are new voices and his heart leaps up into his throat, because what if that is someone out there, desperate and terrified, really asking for help? Can he really stand here, waiting to see if the words repeat themselves, before he throws open the door to help?

"How do we know," he asks as he falls into a nearby chair, massaging his wounded leg. "How can we know that's not a real person?" Jayce doesn't know if he's expecting the other person to answer, or if he's even said the words out loud.

III. deep root disease.

It is a risk, leaving. Jayce knows it, but so is staying. At each door, a persistent, desperate knocking reverberates and the wood groans in the frames under the onslaught and a terrible, guttural cry fills the space outside, inside, within his own head, and rattling around in his chest. These unnatural things are going to get in. It feels inevitable. The boards nailed to the windows creak, the furniture pressed up against the doors shake.

Jayce can't pinpoint the sound when it finally slices through the tension choking the air, but he reacts instinctively, swinging the hammer and hitting it. Hitting something. The impact splinters the floorboards and snaps something... organic.

Sweat and hair obscure his vision, and he's struggling to breathe and hold himself up, collapsing down onto his good knee, leaning on the hammer for support.

"I'm sorry." Jayce sucks in a breath, exhales it shakily. He's afraid to look, to see if he's attacked a Woodcrawler or a person. He apologizes anyway. "I'm sorry."

IV. wildcard!

i'm ell, you can find me over at brutallyamish for plotting, general communication, etc. Prose or brackets is okay with me! I'll match/switch formats!

hi ell welcome to sticks enjoy the horror!

[yourtomb]

It is hard to say if the creature beside Jayce is a man, a monster, or something in between. Dressed entirely in armor and with an ethereal plume flickering above his head, he certainly does not appear to be anything human, even if the rest of his body is shaped like it. The good news, though, is that no matter what he is or isn't — he's on Jayce's side.

At the question, the Beast's head angles. Behind his helm, violet eyes search the monsters outside for an answer. Though Silent Salt has not experienced the same doubts, he can at least understand the perspective.

"Watch the way they move." He motions with his head toward one of the monsters sliding through the snow. "I count none in our number who move like that. We are an odd bunch, but we are not that odd."

viktor — arcane — new player

[victus]

+ our solar system

[ Calmly, Viktor wanders through the throng of people — if they are people — peering at each face as though in careful study. None are familiar to him, but it hardly matters. He feels a sense of purpose all the same, a protective instinct honed over many months looking after those who had no voice and no ability to advocate for themselves. And perhaps, underneath that, there's another reason, something Viktor isn't allowing himself to look at quite yet: the fact that he, too, is seen as monstrous. Just like them, his unnatural appearance has caused countless onlookers to flinch and shy away. Doesn't that make them the same? Shouldn't that inspire his compassion?

Stopping in front of one figure, Viktor raises his hand to press against their forehead. He can't feel the stinging crackle of the Arcane, but that doesn't mean he won't try to summon it. ] Relax. I mean you no harm, [ he murmurs, closing his eyes and searching for the wellspring of power inside him. It's like a deep, dark wellspring. Surely it can't be gone.

This probably looks strange to anyone nearby, but Viktor is too busy attempting to commune with this creature to pay that any heed. ]

+ wilderness survival guide

[ Viktor spends what feels like a long time standing by the window. His arms are crossed as he peers out at strange people roaming unsteadily and without aim. There's a frown on his face, too, a feeling of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders and closing around his throat. What if he could have found another way to reach their consciousness? He should have tried harder. One attempt was hardly worthy of his commitment to helping all those who needed it.

It isn't until he notices someone approach that Viktor noticeably relaxes his stance, expression softening. ] Are you hungry? [ He gestures at a nearby plate of food. ] Someone offered this to me, but I can't eat. [ A small shrug. ] Where I come from, we do not refuse food. So you see my problem. [ He delivers this in a serious tone, which is immediately ruined by the small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Zaunite humor. It took some getting used to. ]

+ home invasion help

[ Finally, Viktor makes a decision. He will help these so-called Woodcrawlers — even if it means risking his own safety. Clutching his tall staff, Viktor ventures outside and notes the eerie stillness of the world around him, as though every sign of life is utterly snuffed out. It weighs heavily in the pit of his stomach, churning uneasily with the sensation of being watched. Or rather, of being hunted. It's not unlike navigating through Piltover, really, or so he tells himself. If he could survive that, surely he could manage through this.

He realizes his mistake far too late.

Suddenly, his vision is filled with grasping hands and a hungry, gaping mouth. Viktor is quick enough to press his staff between them, but it only just barely keeps the creature at bay. Grunting, he shoves at them, but it only seems to embolden the Woodcrawler further, and he finds himself pinned back against a wall.

If someone approaches to help, Viktor has the audacity to say through clenched teeth: ] Don't — hurt them —

+ wildcard

[ ooc: Happy to run with pretty much anything! You're welcome to ping me at mycroftier for plotting. 🫶 ]

home invasion help;

[fatalis]

[ Jayce hears the words, but he doesn't really. Maybe it's just that he doesn't process them, or that he refuses to, because he's seen enough of these creatures to know there is no helping them, or saving them. They are cruel, and malevolent, and even Jayce's insatiable curiosity is gone, or forgotten.

Because he can't let this thing hurt Viktor. That repeats over and over in his head. It's there as he lifts the hammer with every ounce of strength he possesses, and it screams as he brings the bluntest side of it down on the creature, flattening it into the ground beneath the twisted spikes of the hammer. ]

We need to go. [ Viktor can lecture him later, when they're safe, far away from here. Jayce reaches out to grab him by the arm. ] It's not dead. We need to go.

Mystery | KPop Demon Hunters | Current

[itisa]

[ooc: It’s creature hours this month, fam. He’ll be looking like this, because shapeshifting is not allowed. Surprise to those who don’t know he’s a bad word for Sarkaz, yet!]

[ I | Our Solar System | Ambiguously Outside ]

[He knew it was too good to be true. Last month was the calm before the storm. Before that, the silence in his mind had been deafening. And now? Now, everything feels normal. And with normal comes wrongness, and crowding, and, apparently, new company to sharpen his claws on.

Patterns flash over his skin as the nearest twitching not-person is ripped open before it can find its voice. Glowing yellow eyes watch it collapse in a malformed heap, and… no soul rises from the form. Good… Good, that means the softer-hearted among them wouldn’t need to hesitate to defend themselves.

Small mercies, considering everything else.]

[ II | Wilderness Survival Guide ]

[It isn’t the voices calling to the residents that pulls Mystery from the Inn in the dead of night - though he takes note of them, he’s not venturing out because he’s got some ill-formed idea in his head to save the soulless. No, it’s how the “Nature’s Mockery” seems to be growing and spreading - to the point where tendrils of it have begun to claw at windows. Sure, it doesn’t come in, even when the windows are opened, and that’s less strange than it ought to be (but then he’s no stranger to barrier magics), but its presence means no one else can get in a window, either, should the Fake People block access to doors.

So he slips out like a shadow. (Or intends to. Prompt can stop here if you grab him, but if you don’t-)

He circles to a thickening patch of fleshy spires, reaches out to rip it down…

The world melts and spins, his patterns flash and flare wildly, and the last coherent thought he has is that he really should have brought a knife.]

[ III | Shifting Tendons ]

[By some small miracle he’s back in the Inn, having learned a very painful lesson… one that it would seem isn’t quite over just yet. There’s a hollow in his arm… or there was. It’s squirming now, burrowing and growing, and he knows he needs to get it out, but taking claw and fang to these creatures has not gone well yet.

So he’s left to stare at it, hand hovering over the angry red markings, claws flexed and looking like he’s ready to take matters into his own hands – literally, if need be, though surely there’s no way that’ll end well.

Enter… you. Lucky you.

He looks up. Stares a long moment. Decides he’s not too proud to ask for help.]

I’m going to need bandages in a minute.

[Who needs a proper warning, anyway?]

[ IV | Wildcard ]

[Want something specific? Have something else in mind? Hit me up with anything, or tap me for a scheme and a prompt. <3]

ii

[lyricistdontmiss]

[ Luckily for Mystery, he doesn't have to worry about not having a knife on him. There's one incoming anyway.

Zoey had the fortuitous timing of deciding to look out the window as Mystery is circling the flesh spires, and while it isn't a open window, the glass doesn't do much to muffle the "What the hell--" that follows suit. What is he doing out there? None of them have their abilities right now, he's screwed if something gets him!

The smart thing to do would be to stay put in the safety of the Inn. Zoey... does not do the smart thing. She runs to the kitchen, grabbing the first knife she sets her eyes on, and heads for the door as fast as her feet can carry her. And it's a good thing, because as she flings open the door, his hand is already caught in it. ]

No! Hey!

[ The first thing she does when she gets to his side is stab the knife in the flesh, just to see if it will maybe stun the thing into letting him go. Not that she waits to see if it works, though, because the moment the knife is embedded, she turns to focus on tugging on Mystery's forearm. ]

Just-- stay with me! Pull!

[ Is she talking to Mystery, or herself? Probably both. ]

Flamebringer | Arknights | Current Player

[thebladebringstheflame]

i. the sole prompt here is about bonfires

[These stupid-ass power-stealing entities piss him the fuck off. It feels like his own name was just ripped out from under him. What is he without his fire, really? Bitch-ass Iris he hates you.

So, instead of heading inside and being normal and hunkering down like everyone else, Flamebringer is piling up Woodcrawler corpses in the snow outside the inn, bending down, and lighting the whole pile up. Woodcrawler Bonfire. Fuck these things.

Then, he lights a cigarette with this stupid fuckass lighter he had to buy with his stupid fuckass shells, leans back, and watches them burn.]

I'm gonna make dinner on top of these things. I'm thinking grilled steak. [Hi, you're part of this now.] Thinking I'm gonna buy some liquor and light my swords up the old fashioned way... or maybe I'll grab some perfume and tape this lighter to it, dunno.

[...]

On second thought, I might just chug the fucking alcohol.

[Fuck this place man.]

ii. wildcard

[you know what to do etc etc

flamebringer will largely be out and about killing this month so if you need him to kill he's your man. he can do other things but gestures broadly shoot your ideas my way chat]

Till | Alien Stage | Current Player

[foreversembrace]

A) Wilderness Survival Guide | Till and Mephisto's house | Closed to Mephisto and Faust

[It's late. It's late enough, in fact, that if this were a normal night, everyone in the Grove would be fast asleep. But this?

No. There's no way.

The moment Till hears a voice outside calling out for him, desperate to know where he is- are you there?- there's no fucking way he's sleeping. Maybe not now, maybe never again.

Staying alone in his room isn't super tenable right now with the Woodcrawlers scraping across the shingles trying to find a way in, so Till's left with relocating to the main living space of the house, sitting on the couch with his legs pulled up onto it, knees pressed hard into his chest. His little snail companion Jibang (who really was never little to begin with, he's always been fat) is close against his side, "purring" softly in an attempt to keep him calm.

If he wasn't too spooked to start trying to barricade the windows and doors, he would.]

B) Netbook | OTA

I can hear voices calling for me out there.

Am I the only one?

God, this is so fucked. This is so fucked.

Wildcard

[Hi all! Chi here- I didn't do OOC plotting because, to be frank, I've had a really bad time of it IRL lately so I've been taking it slower on the RP front for now while I try to get back to normal. If none of these prompts work please feel free to DM me here or on Discord and I'm happy to work something out <3]

B

[itisa]

Don't listen to the voices.
Doesn't matter what they sound like, listening to voices like this is never a good idea.



It's so fucked.

Ainchase Ishmael (Bluhen) | Elsword | Current Player

[eidxiety]

i. tailor shop blues

["Oooh nooo the horrors are out" yeah yeah anyway Ain has work to do.

For the first while, he heads back to the tailor shop to get things done. Being a veteran monster-killer on a good day means he doesn't see these things as a threat, and he'd rather turn his attention to his crafts. Realistically, a lot of people probably feel the same. He'll finish his day out, stab things on the way back home, and go to bed.

The Woodcrawlers disagree with this. The soft skittering under the wooden floor of his store alert him, but Ain simply carries on sewing, confident that they won't be able to get in or are too stupid too.

Oh how wrong he is, when his front windows and floorboards explode simultaneously, the one under the ground knocking him out of his chair to the tune of him shrieking. He lashes an arm out to summon his blades to his hands, and...

Nothing.

Okay, fuck, time for plan B: take his pendulum out and use it as a bludgeoning weapon to beat the thing under his floor back.

SOS, the tailor shop is under fucking attack.]

ii. tailor shop 2: electric boogaloo

[Extremely pissed off but largely no worse for wear, Ain sets up his store for the rest of the month in the living room area of his inn room, the door propped open with a sign hanging over the door to indicate this is where people should go for orders. The door to his actual bedroom is shut, and his animals are all loafing across the various pet beds in the back.

Dachsologie, of course, has a bolt of cloth in his beak.]

Hiii~. [Ain sing-songs as you walk down the hall.] Do you need anything?

[The twitch in his brow says "I miss my shop, dude".]

iii. wildcard

[you know what to do]

ii

[loansharpedo]

[It's been a few days since. Uh. Corbeau was bleeding all over the Inn's living room- so sorry about that- and SURELY Ain has not forgotten this guy he had to stitch up. Hi, he lived, he looks like he's doing a lot better than he was. He has remade all that blood he lost, wow! Anyway, he'll approach Ain's inn room door with his torn up suit hanging over his arm, nodding once as he stops just shy of the doorway.]

I need this tear in my suit repaired. I'm going to owe you double for stitching me up as well, so just let me know what I owe you and I'll make it happen.

Vildred Dayern | Epic Seven | Current Player

[bladeascent]

i. invaders? in MY home? it's more likely than you think

[Everyone knows Vildred and Ras live on the other side of the river. It's those two and their menagerie of animals — Clawde, the dandelion-lion cub that Vildred picked up when he first came here; Quacklyn, Ras' very grouchy duck who wants everyone who isn't Ras to die; and Tina, Ras' moss fox who is here for a good time and also to maybe eat shoes. With the amount of company Vildred has over that he cooks stew for, as though having guests over in this place gives a sense of normalcy at all to him, one would think they wouldn't be entirely alone for this.

Well. Turns out...

Hopefully you came to check on them, because the dojo and the upstairs living space is under siege. With magic being cut off, Ras is basically dead to the world, and Vildred can and will do anything to keep the bugs breaking through their walls from getting Ras in specific. The issue is getting out with everyone — Vildred has yet to realise that the Woodcrawlers have zero interest in his animals, and one hundred percent interest in him and Ras — and that means trying to fend off about five of the fucking things with one (1) Ras thrown over his shoulder and one (1) pissed-off duck trying to bite the arm holding her. Tina has already absconded to the inn, with Clawde in tow, and perhaps the presence of those two has alerted anyone else in the inn that there's trouble. While the much more aloof moss fox has seen fit to hide under the sofa, Clawde in particular is trying to drag you out by your pantleg and lead you to the dojo.

Vildred suddenly wishes he could speak to this goddamn duck and tell her that there's danger. If she understands that at all, she seems not to care, trying to nestle on top of Ras while Vildred wildly swings his blade in an attempt to get the Woodcrawlers off of them both. Every rough movement that shakes the Heir of the Covenant therefore pisses Quacklyn off, who honks and bites the side of his face or nibbles his hair or whatever else she can possibly get her beak on. This, as one can expect, makes things much more difficult. A dodge to the left as Vildred backs out onto their balcony avoids Ras getting hit by the spindly legs of these creatures, at the cost of their sharp limbs raking down his thigh. The chill of something foreign rooting its way under his skin is an immediate stomach-churning presence, but he presses on.

With his back pressed against the railing of the balcony and more of those things below, Vildred makes the decision to sheath his blade, pivot on his heel as he resituates Ras and this Diche-damned duck — Ras held firmly against his front and Quacklyn clutched under his arm whether she likes it or not — and leaps off the balcony to the ground below. Another Woodcrawler takes that as an invitation to jab him in the ankle and trip him, a second crawling over his back as he carefully tucks Ras underneath him and stabbing into his upper body with the proboscis. It's at this point that Quacklyn's duck-brain gets the good sense that she, too, should zip off to the inn, which spares Vildred an arm with which to reach out and bare-handed crush the leg next to him with a surprising amount of force.

He just has to shake them off and cross the river. If you're here as a witness, you'll see him do just that shortly, gathering up the comatose Ras in his arms and pushing his way out of the swarming mass of bugs before he makes a break for the river on a leg that is clearly broken somewhere.

SOS.]

ii. feeling cute, might bleed out later

[By some miracle, he makes it to the inn with his mostly-sleeping boyfriend tucked against his chest, much worse for wear than he was five minutes ago. The ankle that the Woodcrawler jabbed is clearly broken; tears in the back of his clothing and around his thighs show off deep wounds that are quickly in the middle of trying to paralyse a man who just keeps fucking going. He's covered in blood, tired, and he's setting Ras down in his old inn room's bed before walking off to the bathroom to go deal with the blood he's trailing through the halls.

After yanking out the weird, rooty splinters from his right hand with his teeth and sitting down on the edge of the bathtub to do the same to his leg, Vildred quickly realises that he's a bit worse for wear than he thinks. If they put those things in his back, too...

Ugh, he doesn't want to find out what would happen if he left them in. And he's realising he might have a few cracked ribs.

Good. Good, good.

A bloody hand scrawls in his notebook, the smears appearing on the pages of your own:]

If someone could follow the blood trail in the inn to Ras' room I would appreciate it

Dizzy might bleed out, don't make me read too much

iii. wildcard

[as always hit me with whatever]

II

[divinechains]

[ Vildred Fuckass Dayern, who the fuck told you that you could bleed out on Ras' behalf???? How many times does he have to say "don't die for me" before you listen???????

Ras would not be alive without magic. It's how he moves, it's how he thinks, it's how he lives. That rock in his chest isn't a fun mirror trick - it's there. It's alive. It's magic. But now, with the magic gone, it's glowing as faint as a dying fire in a storm. It hasn't gone out, thank the Goddess. He doesn't know why - maybe his magic is too strong to be taken away entirely, or maybe Diche's reach is just that potent even in universes away from home, but whatever the case is, he's still... here. He isn't just an empty vessel, even if he is unseemingly exhausted.

He doesn't mean to pass out on Vildred. Moreover, he doesn't mean to sleep through his perils of getting to the inn. Truly, if he could be at his side fighting off the bastards, he would be. Yet when he wakes up, it isn't outside. It isn't at the dojo. It's in an inn room, with a wet smell of blood that's uncomfortably familiar, and the vague honks of a duck.

Ras sits up, taking everything in for only a second before he's pulling himself towards the bathroom - where the trail of blood is leading him. He opens the door perhaps a little too fast.

...

He starts to shake at the brutal sight of Vildred. ]

Wh... [ He cannot heal. Even if he had magic, he was not a healer. He never has been. He does not even know where to begin. ] What happened...? No, how... I... What do I do to help...?

Mizuki | Arknights | current! mind the cws!

[mooninthewater]

I. Joy, anger, sadness and delight

[ On a normal day, Mizuki may not have been affected by the menacing thing in the sky. He cannot realistically do magic, but ever since ingesting the moon shard... well, he certainly can't use its abilities now. More than that, Mizuki's eyes, usually reflecting the moon in the sky, are somewhat on the fritz now, too. It's a dilemma he's been "dealing with" by just slapping on some sunglasses and calling it there.

It gives him a headache like none other. Were that the only thing, Mizuki likely would've gone about his day unbothered. However, it would be bold of anyone to assume there wasn't going to be layers of bullshit. The voices, layered with his own dealings of the hivemind in his head, are just a little too much for him. He thinks he hears ringing in his ears, too? Perhaps that's just a symptom of his migraine...

It means that he's not nearly as vigilant as he normally is - that his movements are jerkier than he would like, and it takes him a moment to absorb the information around him. More than that, it means he glitches more than he'd like. His natural camouflage fritzes and causes the sharp sound of static with the brief visual of TV snow where there was once a sea jelly. It's a "blink and you'll miss it" sort of moment, but with how frequent it's become... hm.

It will not stop Mizuki from trying to help those menaced by the creatures, though. It will simply inhibit him a little more than usual, and make him bring the harpooned tip of his umbrella down a few more times than necessary into the Woodcrawlers that get too close. ]

II. Everyone is calling for me (cw: emetophobia, eating disorder, vore, body horror)

[ Once upon a time, Mizuki may have had normal teeth, with a satiable hunger, with normal eating habits. Once upon a time, there was not the hunger pains of starving gods in his head, telling him to consume. Once upon a time, he was not part of a hivemind, and did not have the identity of consuming and being consumed. Yet, he has lived this way for so long, Mizuki would not be able to tell you if any of that was true, really. He's pretty sure he was always hungry. He's pretty sure he's never felt what it was like to be satiated. He's pretty sure... if he was not supposed to always eat, he would not have teeth sharp and sturdy enough to chew metal. That's simply just how it works.

So, of course, if a creature crawls into his mouth, he is going to bite down. He cannot help this, it is his instinct. You might hear a deafening crack as the creature in his mouth splits into pieces, some on the ground, some in his mouth still, being shredded into pieces for Mizuki to swallow.

This... does not go totally to plan, though. He can hear that familiar hiss of We Many needing to expel the "bad" out of him. Much like it had done when he'd eaten the guardian Moder, when she was once corrupted. That warning about purging impurities, that shrieking to keep We Many clean...

So, if you were kind enough to try and stop him, don't worry! The bug does not stay in his mouth long. In fact, he starts hacking and coughing to the point the bits fall out of his mouth, along with a black sort of sludge that is likely from the very strange lining of Mizuki's eldritch stomach. ]

III. Wildcard
PM me if u wanna talk plot, as usual!

Urbain | Pokemon Z-A | Current Player

[justacityboy]

no z-a spoilers unless i know you're good with em! they will be flagged in thread headers accordingly.

i. STRESS BAKING.

[You know what they say! When life gives you Woodcrawlers, hide in the kitchen and make three square meals a day for everyone stuck in the inn! (They don't say this.)

An easier way to say the above is probably: Urbain is crashing out and due to the ongoing crashout he's decided he's Cooking Mama now, he has the bandana and apron and everything, and he's going to Take Care of everyone here as he regularly does for his friends back home. The inn's kitchen smells heavily of fresh-baked bread, but there's also a spread of pastries sitting out and cooling too, and he's flitting about roasting a ham for dinner later while working on a soup for lunch. It's kind of a mess in here, but there's space if you want to join in. He hasn't commandeered all the space.

If you're not here to cook, though, he's bringing you food. He will hunt you down with a plate fixed for you, as long as you're in the inn and not outside. Urbain is not going outside, fuck outside, he's had enough of that. He tries to catch you for your three meals a day, too, so it could be as early as 9 in the morning when he knocks on your door to give you breakfast.

So sorry. Please accept cooking as a valid form of crashout and take this food before he gets worse.]

ii. wildcard

[ayyye i'm good for anything except killing the boy so hit me]

dont bake this one tho (cw: self loathing)

[lilyberation]

( it's been a rough time since arriving at the inn for everyone, she's certain. and she knows she shouldn't wallow- even though it's... incredibly hard not to when she's been robbed of the only thing that gives her value and she has nothing to offer now- but she can... at least cook, right?

except when she enters the kitchen, someone else is already there. )

Ah, hello...

white lily cookie ⚜️ cookie run kingdom ⚜️ oldbie

[lilyberation]

As a heads up, due to in-game events, White Lily Cookie is deaf. I'll also be doing one prompt at a time. Please pardon any delay in responses as I've been struggling with illness, and you can hit me up at amity_rose!

home invasion help

[lilyberation]

( it isn't that she's not paying attention, because she is. the sky has been wretched and the air vile since their return. but when one cannot hear the scratches against wood, the skittering under the floor... when one is home alone and the threats are staying out of sight... well, what is one supposed to do? especially as she's also trying to figure out why the soul jam of freedom has suddenly... faded.

vernal is trying to tug at her dress, and eden is puffed up and hissing at something- that alone is her warning while marble stalks through the halls as best she can. that is perhaps her only warning, as the hatchlings were cozied up at the inn fireplace, last she checked.

something cracks in the wood behind her, and she has no idea as she tries to soothe vernal and eden. maybe you call out to her- she doesn't hear that, either, but she does feel marble's teeth latch onto her braid and yank, pulling her back just in time to avoid the fall of a claw-like leg- )

What-

mafuyu asahina | project sekai | oldbie

[beathollow]

i. to crumble
cw: extreme body horror, supernatural diseases & mutations

( it had been an accident, really. she'd gotten mayoi to the inn, had him tucked into bed to rest and told aira she was going to get some more supplies from the shrine while she had time... it's just that she hadn't had time at all. the voices announced 'new things roam the hunting grounds' as she'd been loading her bag with some final forgotten things. mafuyu had closed it, swung the backpack on and tried to be smart about getting back to the inn. she had routes planned, was trying to observe.

she really had tried her best. she'd even gotten away from the woodcrawlers, though not unscathed...

and that really was the end of it, wasn't it? that had been her death knell.

... how long ago was that, now? she thinks days have passed. everyone is safe, at least, right? or someone would have found her. but then... she probably doesn't look the same anymore, with how agonizing the shifts have been. so if you wander too close, she forgives you for not recognizing her. but there's a faint whisper, if you do- )

Stay back...

ii. to fall
cw: allusions to extreme body horror, parasitism, mimicry, insect-related horror, vore

( the second time is entirely avoidable, honestly. she'd sworn up and down she wouldn't even go near the windows after her resurrection, and she didn't!




except she heard kanade. kanade, begging for help. and if it was true... kanade didn't stand a chance out there. she was physically frail, had negative stamina, and was trusting and kind. the monsters outside would kill her. as the cries got more frantic, mafuyu's heart pounded in her chest, blood rushing in her ears- if it was true, then she had no time. mafuyu had run out the door of the inn immediately and without a word.

but it wasn't true.

needless to say, the second time mafuyu resurrects she's more furious than afraid. which is why she storms down to the lobby immediately, a spiteful look in her eyes- after all, her own voice is on the other side of the glass, calling for someone to help. mafuyu tries to say something, but nothing comes out. of course! of course this is how it's working. with an angry huff, she throws her hands up in the air before looking around- ah, there's some paper. )

Do you have a gun or other projectile weapon? I need to borrow it for one moment. Please.

iii. to rest

( dying twice in however many days takes a lot out of you. doesn't it? after her initial spite and rage die out, mafuyu is... tired.

more than tired.

it's a miracle she gets out of bed to do things other than tend to her lover, honestly. but she doesn't leave for more than a few minutes at a time. but when she does, it's noticeable. several times now the natives of this world have held feasts with music and games and surely those are still around, right? it's hard to focus on anything good when the world outside is a fucking nightmare, but she can drag out instruments and the like, right?

so sometimes, you can find her in the dining hall or lobby with a street piano dragged out or an acoustic guitar, playing songs that had given her light once upon a time. maybe it will overpower the sounds from outside. maybe it can give someone light, too. )

... Did you also want to play...?

iv. to love
closed to mayoi, after her second death

( she wakes up, and it's not alone this time; after she'd been saved from the deep root disease she'd woken up in a separate room with no one by her side. this time, she can feel his warmth beside her. she knows she's been wretched, leaving him alone for so long, worrying him-

almost immediately, mafuyu rolls over and pulls him into a tight embrace, blinking away tears. )

v. to be loved
closed to aira, three days after her second resurrection

( mafuyu would have said something sooner, but she literally couldn't. but the day her voice returns to her, she seeks out aira immediately- it's not their first reunion, not even close, but... it's something that has to be done.

the moment she sees him, she pulls aira into a tight hug. )

I'm so sorry.

vi. wildcard

( fingerguns. )

i. first.... blanket body horror cw

[love_swan]

[ He knows leaving the inn is a bad idea. He knows that- but it's just that it's been so long since Mafuyu left to gather more supplies. Since things got even worse at a rate Aira could barely process. He's been tending to Mayoi in that time, but he can't help but worry. She should have been back by now...

So with a spear he borrowed and a lull in the attacks, Aira skittered out to track down where Mafuyu could have gone off to.

The corpses, frayed muscles and extended limbs grotesquely posted about town... they reminded him of the ones he found in the Nest's lake, their eyes tracking him, hope shining there, pitifully pleading for him to save them without words to give.

He couldn't tell who they had been, nor which ones were real and which were monsters in disguise. There was a line somewhere between the two that he couldn't quite discern, and his bleeding heart couldn't consider it for too long lest he start trying to save people and get hurt for it.

... but then he finds a discarded bag, contents still securely packed in, just a short distance from one. Mafuyu's bag... ]

Ma..Mafuyu-san..?

[ He hears the warning but he looks up at her, uncomprehending. It's been days. Has she been enduring this the whole time? Guilt ate at the inside of his heart. ]

H-how do I help you? What can I do?