EVENT 033

[sticksandbonesmods]

CRUSADER PROBE MISSION

Sometimes when you look outside, you think the Iris must be closer. That, or a month of isolation in the inn and not seeing the light of day has convinced you that the awful red moon has crept toward the realm you’re currently stuck in. Night after night feels largely the same; you go to bed to the awful shrieks of the Fake People, wretched hands tap against your window, and fleshy masses climb the walls. When you wake up, you hopefully remember to eat, and hopefully don’t fight with your neighbours you’ve been locked indoors with over the state of the kitchen, or the medical supplies scattered across the floor because someone tripped their way into the mobile clinic. Those of you who venture outside hopefully come back unharmed, maybe to the tune of worried friends and partners shouting that you should take a break. Surely the Goddesses must be working on a solution skywards, surely you need to wait, surely there’s some piece of the puzzle you’re missing, surely the magic will come back. Surely, surely…

Sleep, wake up, survive. Sleep, wake up, survive. Sleep… wake up.

There are twenty-five new moons in the sky.

Around the Grove’s sky in an uneven ring, your moon — the one from your home — joins the moons of your peers, bleeding, wounded, its craters unnatural and new. Sinew and tendon connect and pull like a sore being spread open by prodding fingertips. The twin moons of Elrios embrace Earthbread’s in a mass of unnatural tendrils. Valisthea’s moon is cleft in two, one half being pulled toward the east by a mass of goo attached to No Man’s, the other mid-collision with Earth’s. The debris that sprays out from it is a disgusting mix of blood and rock, frozen mid-splatter under the Iris’ gravity.

You swear when you look at the horizon that there are more Woodcrawlers than there were before, despite everyone’s best efforts. The wards on the inn hold, suppressed magic bubbling beneath the surface like a volcano waiting to erupt — one you can feel shuddering under your footsteps — and as the inn endures hit after hit from enraged creatures trying to get to you, you can’t help but wonder…

How much longer do you have left, realistically?

SLEEP IMAGE VISUALIZER

cw: promoting suicide

Out in the depths of the woods, the False God — the Forest, the Black Sun, the Creature — wakes from his slumber, to Zonari’s frantic shoulder-shakes and skyward pointing. The moons continue to corrupt, to bleed, to be consumed; the Heavens stay silent, and magic barely comes to the fingertips of those more powerful than you all. When the Forest glances at his fingertips, he can feel it suppressed under the surface, inaccessible even to Him. A Woodcrawler skitters toward his bedchambers from a shattered window and gets swatted like a gnat out of fury.

The Black Sun wants this hideous red moon to get out of his skies.

He does not approach the Grove. Rather, with the few dregs of magic that remain in a Fallen God and the blessings of his daughter at his side, he reaches into your minds — sleeping or waking.

“It’s been a while. If I wasn’t asleep, I would have cast that thing out of the sky before it got here for daring to mess with what is mine. It stole most of my magic, and I need it back — but I’ll get rid of it if you help me get my magic back. Consider it a gift.”

Whether sleeping or awake, you feel it — the burn of something on your wrist, like a tattoo needle being pressed down too hard for comfort. Some are marked with a black sun whose body is in the shape of a crescent; the other half are marked with one in the shape of a gibbous. When you try to cover the mark, or brush your hand over it to soothe the sudden sharp ache, it glows through your clothing and fingertips, unable to be hidden.

“Find someone with your opposite mark. Kill them, or give up and kill yourself.” The words hang heavy, but He does not pause to let you process it. “Don’t worry — you’ll only have things to gain from this. You already know how to give me the magic I need to get rid of that thing. Mizuki has told you time and time again, has he not? I promise there will be no consequences. I promise those who die immortality until the red moon is defeated, and if you lost something before… Zonari will give it back. And killers, well… you get the satisfaction, guilt-free. I know your fingertips must ache to pull the trigger, Wolfwood.

Chop chop.”

[CLICK FOR TEAM ASSIGNMENTS]

CRESCENT SUN	GIBBOUS SUN
Till	Viktor
Jayce	Ezell
Flamebringer	Faust
Mephisto	Mizuki
Elder Faerie	Pavlova
Pure Vanilla	White Lily
Shadow Milk	Silent Salt
Akaza	Genya
Senjuro	Kyojuro
Shinobu	Muichiro
Ain	Elsword
Aira	Vildred
Ras	Stan
Joshua	Ryan
Dipper	Zoey
Min-Gi	Astrid
Mystery	Luca
Lyle	Urbain
Kiera	Wolfwood
Corbeau	Cy
River	Lodi

GAMES FOR KIDS

Whether the Grove descends into immediate chaos depends on you. Do you immediately turn on your neighbour and try to kill them? Do you sacrifice yourself on the pyre? Do you grab your loved ones and hole up with the door barricaded? Ignore it? Hope someone else dies so you don’t have to?

Ydalir and Heimr, cross with this entire charade and unmarked, breathe out sighs that carry thousands of years of fatigue. The Guardians look no less thrilled about the situation, but their concerns lie around re-killing all of the Woodcrawlers and Fake People they spent so much time smashing weeks ago. The river, covered in Nethersea Brand, protects Sinann and the Seaborn — and only just, as the Woodcrawlers repeatedly try to stomp through it, only to get paralysed on top of it.

Zonari does not enter the inn, despite Heimr trying to extend the olive branch and say she may as well come inside. Instead, she sticks closer to the barn as she typically does if she visits, only venturing out into the cold to retrieve the dead after they resurrect twenty-four hours later and lead them back to the Grove. “What did you want back?” She asks those who have visited the Garden and lost something — a memory, a limb, an eye, an ability. “I have just enough magic to give it to you. Don’t go losing it again, or this was all a waste, wasn’t it?”

It is the Forest, though, that grants your immortality for dying. He has just enough magic to spare a little to throw your way. If you lose a limb under this blessing, it’ll reattach. Fatal wounds heal almost instantly, though they’ll still hurt for a brief few seconds. A papercut barely tickles you. The Woodcrawlers cannot crawl down your throat, Deep Root Disease does not settle under your skin, and the Nature’s Mockery can do little to impede your steps.

The nights tick on. Days become weeks. The marks on the wrists of the dead-and-resurrected fade. The chaos begins to lessen, little by little.

Then begins an all-out war.

THE DEEP BLUE

The Iris is not one to go down without a fight. It and the Black Sun are in a deadlock, pushing back against the other in an unending game of chess. When one is in check, the other retaliates. The fused moons suspended in the sky act as vessels to beam more and more threats down into the Grove — fifty, one hundred, one thousand. The inn weathers the storm only as long as Heimr and Ydalir continually cast what little magic they can access from the corners of the lobby; chalk-stained fingertips repeatedly draw and re-draw magic circles and arcane wards. If you can’t help outside with the sudden swarm of creatures attacking the inn’s walls and drive them back, they’ll instead ask you to help draw further wards, knowing that this is the best anyone could do in this situation.

The Guardians take on newfound rage outside. Moder’s earthquakes shake the threats off their feet every time she rears back. What doesn’t get stepped on and whipped aside by Sehul gets devoured by Callan’s ceaseless hunger. Back-to-back, Zahliya and Zonari stand valiant in front of the inn to cut down anything that gets too close, Nightfall clutched in her hand as a show of tentative trust from the shorter Gargoyle.

The Seaborn, adults and babies alike, rise from the river en masse and form together into something larger, tentacles and tiny hands holding tight to create an enormous, knightlike being donning shell armour and a blade made from sharpened bones. The Behemoth, too, joins the final stand with teeth and claws gnashing. Within the mountain peaks far away, if you listen closely, you swear you can hear the solemn prayers of the Lord of the Mountains. And far in the distance, rising beyond the cliffside covering the sea, the Cosmic Serpent rises from slumber, the stars making up its form twinkling dimly against the night sky as water cascades off its form. Its jaw unhinges, the light of thousands of swallowed stars gathering in its open mouth.

For a moment, the world seems to stop. You take a single breath and hold it as the chaos surrounds you, and suddenly the sky sunders with the burning light of dawn.

“ENOUGH!” Beiwe’s cry of fury mixes with the Fallen Sun’s own in tandem, and at the same moment her blade of dawn bears down upon the Iris, a blade of black from him joins parallel to hers. The Cosmic Serpent’s beam smashes into the Grove, vaporizing the monsters — and almost vaporizing you, if you’re helping the war efforts outside — at the same time the twin blades cleave the Iris in twain.

A still breath ripples through the trees. The rift in the sky torn open by brother and sister wobbles and ripples, but doesn’t close. The mutated moons are gradually bathed in Ourania’s healing light, the Seaborn return to the river, and the drained Fallen God’s breathing becomes a laboured, exhausted laugh. As the twin Gargoyles bicker and break the silence — Zonari thought it was a good idea to give her brother a noogie, okay? — a sense of calm finally comes over the Grove.

The next few days will be spent cleaning up the ashes of corpses, repairing broken infrastructure, and watching the skies gradually return to normal… yet the rift still hangs overhead, and the tickle of magic doesn’t return to your fingertips.

It still lies in wait.

Spark Notes (Click to Expand)

summary

CRUSADER PROBE MISSION: The moons are more mutated, with some of them smashed up or in pieces. Instead of rotating through the moons from various worlds of player characters, all moons from all player worlds show up in some state of decay.
SLEEP IMAGE VISUALIZER: Suri contacts everyone, places marks upon their wrists, and tells you all to kill each other to power him up so that he can get rid of the Iris. Everyone is assigned one of two teams... good luck!
GAMES FOR KIDS: Welcome to the Hunger Suri Games! Those who die and come back after 24 hours will become immortal for the month. If they died and previously lost something in the Garden, Zonari will grant it back to them with no questions asked. The chaos outside moderately lessens as more and more people become immortal, but the Iris makes a final stand.
THE DEEP BLUE: The inn's wards start to waver, resulting in Ydalir and Heimr asking for help maintaining them from those of you that can draw magic circles before they break again. Those of you who can fight should go outside and fight, they say. The Iris beams down thousands of threats through each wounded moon, and the Guardians, Cosmic Serpent, Seaborn, and the twin suns themselves attend the war. After the Iris' defeat, the sky is sundered and a rift hangs overhead, and yet magic still doesn't return.

out of character

Y'all, it's already February. Anyway, this is the second and final part of our GHE inspired event! Thank you for indulging in it with me, I've enjoyed running it. March and April will be our typical calm-after-the-storm months to make up for the murders I've inflicted on you all. Fun facts: Had I not gotten enough murder sign-ups I wasn't sure how I was going to end this log h-haha, so thank you guys for being SUCH enthusiastic little blorbo killers.

updates

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

submissions

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

code

Comments

[loansharpedo]

[Corbeau frowns, causing the slight wrinkles in his face to deepen.]

I know these people here about as much as you do, Urbain. The only thing isolating myself would do would make me a bigger target. You understand that, right? It's a lot easier to try to attack one person than a group, if you were planning to at all.

Now, if you'd feel safer if I left...I'll respect your wishes and go back to my room.

[justacityboy]

Oh, no, don't do that—

[Please don't leave him alone here, he will Definitely get killed if you do!]

I'll make you whatever breakfast or lunch or whatever else you want, every day until this ends, but don't leave me alone. Please.

[loansharpedo]

[He figured that might be Urbain's response...but as surly as Corbeau can be, his expression does soften, ever so slightly.]

I won't. I wasn't planning on it.

And for what it's worth, I know we're on separate teams, but I'm not going to hurt you. You have my word.

[justacityboy]

...okay, cool. Neat. Me neither.

[Of course, Urbain isn't finding anything he can really work with for breakfast — because that would be his luck, go figure — so after a bit of frustrated festering beside the oven, he makes his way back to the bed and sits down. After a second, he stares down at the mark left upon his skin, a frown upon his lips.

He hates this thing.]

I tried to cover it up earlier, but I was panicking, and dropped the first aid kit. That's what woke you up. But it glowed through the gauze, and I panicked, and tried to scrub it off a bit too hard. Now it just hurts, like a rugburn. ...it was stupid, I shouldn't have done that.

[loansharpedo]

You...

[Ugh, this boy...Corbeau huffs, pressing his fingers into the bridge of his nose for a moment before he uncrosses his legs, stretching them out a bit before holding his hand out towards him.]

Let me see.

[justacityboy]

[Reluctantly, he places his hand in Corbeau's so that his wrist can be seen. The wounds really aren't bad, some small open sores here and there amidst the magic ink, but nothing crazy. Definitely a rugburn, or more of a friction burn, really.]

I put ointment on it. It's fine.

[loansharpedo]

[Carefully, Corbeau inspects the self-inflicted wound, letting his fingertips just barely brush the edges without touching it directly.]

Tch…keep an eye on it. Even a small wound can get infected, and we don’t know what this god might do next. Moving around much to get more supplies is going to be risky.

[justacityboy]

I know, I know... I'll keep it clean. But we should go now for supplies, right? While people are probably still having a moral conundrum?

[They can run downstairs in their PJs, loot a bunch of canned food...]

[loansharpedo]

Probably. Hold on.

[He pauses, getting to his feet and adjusting his shirt as he goes.

Then, without a word, he unearths a handgun from underneath his pillow. Racks it, checks to see if it’s still loaded, makes sure the safety is on just in case.]

…okay, we can go.

[justacityboy]

[HELLO—]

You just— slept with that under your pillow—?! What if it went off?!

[He doesn't understand guns, but that's fine because he doesn't need to know how to use them. He's skedaddling outside after a quick peek in the hallway, and when it's clear, they can go downstairs and start looting. He even grabs a satchel he bought from Heimr so that they have more room to carry stuff. Look how economical he is! He definitely bought this because he wanted to take home some of the bread from the bakery after he was given a job and immediately couldn't go to work because of the bugs. Shh. It's fine.]

[loansharpedo]

It wasn’t going to. I had the safety on.

[You know as if that means anything.

He sticks the gun into the back of his pants (???) before they head downstairs, careful to also keep his two Pokeballs at the ready just in case. Obviously he doesn’t want to risk either Scolipede or Roserade getting hurt, but like. Most people also won’t stand much of a chance against a Pokemon, so they’re nice to keep close in emergencies.

He’ll help gather as much as he can carry, making sure to keep an eye out for essentials like extra medication should it end up being needed. He’s no healer, and he can’t make his own, so he doesn’t want to be caught without if things get truly dire in here.]

I think it might be best if we go together if we have to leave the room for any reason. Just in case.

[justacityboy]

[This means nothing to him. He's glad the gun is safe (????)

Looting goes fine, though. It's not really looting if the kitchen is constantly restocking, but at least the Woodcrawlers scrambling under the floorboards aren't able to get in. Urbain sure as fuck can hear them, though, and the sound sets off his anxiety something fierce. He didn't think he was ever an anxious person until he got here...

He grabs raw ingredients, but forgoes a lot of the stuff he'd normally make on account of not knowing how long it'll be until the red moon is gone. It sucks, but turns out canned soups and crackers are a lot easier to store, as much as his heart yearns for the frying pan. They can't be too picky if they're planning to stay in a single room as much as possible.]

Yeah, I agree, but I'm dead weight compared to most of the people here.

[loansharpedo]

[If Urbain is walking around behind Corbeau, he might run into him if he's not paying attention, because Corbeau comes to a sudden stop.]

You need to stop talking about yourself like that.

[He suddenly retorts, blunt and firm as he puts the things he'd gathered into Urbain's bag.]

A lot of people here, yes, have backgrounds that we don't. They have abilities that we don't. But we have just as much that they lack that makes us uniquely powerful in our own way. How many people here have a plant-creature too large to fit in the building? Or a feline that can lift crush someone's skull with his mind if he wanted to?

Don't count yourself out. Give yourself a little credit. Are you a top ranked trainer, or are you not?

[justacityboy]

[Yeah, he smooshes his face into the other man's skull. Oops.]

Okay, but, do I have any of that now? [He hisses.] Does me being a top-ranked trainer save me from a cannibal with a gun? None of my Pokemon have their abilities! And I—

[He looks down at the ground, his shoulders slumping, his voice quiet.]

If you get hurt protecting me, I don't... know what I'd do.

[loansharpedo]

[Corbeau is quiet for a moment before sighing, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. He knows that Urbain is still affected by what happened to him. It's only been just recently that he's been able to get up and around and move his arm with more range of motion without pulling at the stitches too much. Even if that didn't happen protecting anyone, necessarily...]

I'm going to do my best to make sure that doesn't happen. I understand that I have something of a...reputation, but I just ask that you try to trust me for now.

[justacityboy]

I didn't say I don't trust you, [he mutters sadly,] I just don't trust myself, I think.

...

Whatever, let's grab stuff and head back up. We need to eat.

[loansharpedo]

[Corbeau sighs again through his nose, but doesn’t push for now. He’ll head back upstairs with Urbain once they’ve gotten enough to keep them going for a couple days at the very least. Back to the room to take stock, then…

When they get there, he will let Roserade out of her ball, who Urbain likely hasn’t seen much yet. She’s had time to get acclimated a bit to their situation, but she’s clearly anxious due to the uhhh fucking things outside. He takes her “hands” and gently strokes the petals.]

How are you feeling? Do you need some water? It feels like you’re getting dry…

[justacityboy]

[Urbain doesn't have any of his team out, even though he could let Meganium out. It just seems like too much for a tiny inn room. Meowstic isn't out because Meowstic knows too much otherwise. Floette isn't out because Urbain thinks he could say "yeah this is happening" and she would realise she's without Light of Ruin and start attacking people with a knife instead.

So. He proceeds to start putting things away, not saying anything for a while. If needed, Roserade can use the bathtub or the sink — an idea that gets muttered between the clinking of cans and boxes.

Expectedly, he's pretty low-spirited, despite forcing himself to feel cheer for the last while. He was having fun learning people's birthdays and planning to bake cakes until Akaza came in, and until Mizuki got on him about the cannibalism thing. He was having fun at Mizuki's meeting despite the circumstances until he found out Wolfwood eats people too. All the fun seems to get sucked out of this place after so long.

Sigh.]

[loansharpedo]

[The silence is disconcerting, even if Corbeau doesn’t expect Urbain to be a ray of sunshine right now or anything. It really drives home the fact that he’s been forcing that energy for a while, and now, well…

He’ll take Urbain’s suggestion and fill the tub with a small amount of water, plugging it so Roserade can sit and soak there for a while. He’ll leave the door cracked as he comes back in, pulling the gun from his pants and turning it over before he decides to put it away in the bedside drawer instead.]

…do you know how to make Kalosian Toast?

[justacityboy]

[He's having a hard time being sunshine boy :( he feels like his Sunflora side left with the bugs and now he's become Sobble boy instead. Like, Roseroot was scary, but Meganium could handle things and it was more like sneaking past those fucking Pyroar in Wild Zone 17 so... that was... weirdly fine, to him? But the people melting into flesh blobs and going insane, the yelling, the bugs that climb down your throat? Being defenseless in the wilderness with his Pokemon not knowing anything other than basic physical moves suddenly?

He'd say he'd rather be stabbed if there wasn't currently an active threat of that.]

Huh...? [Sorry, he wasn't listening.] Oh, Kalosian toast? Yeah, I know that. I make them fancy with powdered sugar and fruit slices. Is that what you want for breakfast?

[loansharpedo]

If it wouldn't be too much trouble to make, yes.

[Because he thinks cooking will get Urbain out of his own head a little bit. Give him something to do, which he seems in desperate need of currently.]

And if you need anything from me, let me know. I'm not as much of a baker as you, but I can still crack an egg or sift sugar.

[justacityboy]

No no, I've got it. I told you it was whatever you wanted. I got it. Besides, it's easy and quick anyway.

[And then they'll get the eggs used and have leftovers. Urbain always makes enough for leftovers.]

[loansharpedo]

Alright...take your time, then.

[While Urbain is busily getting their breakfast together, he'll check up on Roserade, who is sufficiently soggy and has gotten her petals nice and hydrated. He'll help her out and pat her dry with a clean towel before following her back into the bedroom, letting her sit on the foot of the bed with a little glass of water to actually drink instead of imbibe with her roots. He'll give her a couple pieces of breakfast fruit as well, if Urbain decides to add that to the toast.]

[justacityboy]

[Urbain is a Chef and that means everyone gets food, okay. But he wasn't kidding about breakfast being quick and easy. It's easy when he's not making his own bread (that would take another day or so), anyway. If he were doing his usual they'd have the fanciest breakfast ever.

But, they instead have a nice homey breakfast, and Urbain is realising that he misses the sun shining on his face. Sigh...]

Here. I hope it slaps.

[loansharpedo]

[Corbeau eats cooked meals often at home, mainly because they have a kitchen and the team takes turns cooking. He and Philippe both cook relatively frequently, so it would be unfair to say he's never had a nice, home-cooked meal. But this is...particularly homey in a way he can't articulate as he takes his first bite with a little bit of everything.

It's nice. It's just nice, and warm, and comforting...and maybe that's all you need when things are as shitty as they are now.]

It's really good. ...really good.