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

wildcard, again

[divinechains]

[ Things have... not fully settled, but they've settled more than they have been. Thus, Vildred has had it easier. He hopes he can keep it up - though Ras wishes the bitch would just lay the fuck down! He can't argue, when he's still sleeping for like 85% of the days.

When Vildred comes back from his ventures in the inn, though, Ras will be sitting upright, staring out the window. Listening to the voices that beckon, of people he'd once known. There's... nothing behind his eyes, unfortunately. As always, they're more like glass than eyes. ]

Vildred. [ He hugs his knees a little closer. ] I have failed you again. I could not protect you. I could not stop this disaster, and you got hurt because of me.

And that has spurred on the realization... you do not remember anything we have done. The things I have done, or failed to do. That is not fair to you, if we are together.

[bladeascent]

[And here's Vildred, about to tell Ras about acetaminophen...]

It really isn't your fault. The moon-thing knocked you out... or something to that effect, anyway.

[With a new splint on and tons of heat packs on his ribs, Vildred shuffles over to their bed and sits, propping himself up against the headboard with some pillows.]

...if you want to tell me about it, that's fine, but I don't want you to feel pressured to just because you're feeling down.

[divinechains]

...I do not feel pressured by my circumstance wholly. It has been a weight that has held me back for some time, along with the revelation of the worlds I have failed. These things go in tandem, I suppose. But while one weight has gotten lighter, this one has not.

[ He frowns, reaching over to gently hold Vildred's hand. ]

It is not fun to hear about your demise, though. I understand if you do not wish to hear it on principle. But I feel, at the very least, I need to tell you about my most recent world.

[bladeascent]

...no, no. It's fine. I'd... learn it eventually, like with our past lives here. I'd rather hear it from you, I think, than get the memories back through something the Forest pulls.

[Vildred squeezes Ras' hand in his.]

Tell me about it.

[divinechains]

I... apologize. I know that... you do not like to hear about upsetting things. My timing is fairly poor, too, considering...

[ He should be trying to lighten the mood, not make it worse. That was always something Vildred was better at. He just... wants him to smile. He loves that smile of his. He wants to protect that smile of his.

Always. ]

Ah, but... I can promise you, after this, I will do my best to find something uplifting to talk about. I simply feel as though if I do not get this out of my head now, it will linger.

... [ He shifts himself a little to pull the covers up and ensuring that Vildred is warm and covered. Making sure he's comfortable for the wildly uncomfortable conversation that's about to unfold. ] The first world was... the hardest. As I am sure you can ascertain yourself, it was the hardest emotionally on me. For starters, you were not there at my side from the beginning. I took the burden of doing things alone for a while. After all, I was Diche's will. I was Orbis' sword and shield. Or, I thought I was supposed to be.

When I arrived too late to stave off enough of the Archdemon's forces, I would often hear... the people vocalize their waning faith. I think, had they been directed at only me, I may have not been as affected by it. I would have continued to live as the puppet I needed to be for Orbis. But something about the people's vitriol made me realize I was living proof of the Goddess' will. If they lost faith in me, they were losing faith in her.

It was...

...painful.

[ ...He lets out a very small laugh. ] I still am not good at expressing my emotions, but I was even worse back then, if you can believe it.

I thought that maybe it would be better to just do my job, and cut off contact with the humans wholly. I do not have to befriend anyone, I just have to protect Orbis. Love the people, regardless of their faith in me. But... I... stopped. I stopped loving the people because it hurt. And that made me start to question... why I was doing any of it. If I do not care, it does not hurt. But if I do not care, I have nothing to fight for.

...

[ He lulls his head a little, picking up his hand to gently put it against Vildred's cheek. ]

And then I met you. Would you like to guess what the first thing you said to me was?

[bladeascent]

[Vildred listens, of course. He listens, quiet, absorbing everything Ras has to say. When his cheek is touched, he leans into it like a man starved, craving the contact and the warmth it brings. His hair rises to wrap around Ras' fingers against his cheek, his eyes closed very briefly.]

Probably something cheesy, right? "Vildred Dayern, General of Ezera... I'll be your sword," or something. Maybe it was just "hi" for once, but I doubt it.

[divinechains]

...You smiled at me, and you said, "Never thought the Heir of the Covenant was so tiny!" And you laughed.

That was when I realized again... that I do love humans. You stayed by my side after that. You asked me things as if I were... a person. As comrades in arms, not as the Heir of the Covenant. I had always been convinced if I loved one, I would forsake another. But I realized something else... while that was true, to an extent, I would rather learn what the world I was meant to protect should look like with those I loved. I would rather save the world with you.

Which... I suppose is all just a very long winded way to say... I have always loved you, Vildred. I will always love you. You gave my existence purpose again, when I did not realize I was losing it.

...

But... then... when it came time to fight, you were meant to fend off Acolyte Kayron, and I did not see you again afterwards. I... failed the world, as well, as I could not fight the Archdemon.

It... was devastating. I did not realize losing was... an option. I was so sure that something I was made for meant there was no possible way I could lose. It was the very first time I cried.

Diche spoke to me, and said she would fix things, but... that was when the world had been reverted. The second world. And from there, the third. The fourth. All coming to ends, despite my knowledge of the previous. New heirs, new friends, in every one of them, and some losing their lives, never to be seen again. I do my best to not forget their faces, but it hurts every day to not have anyone to share with about them. I cannot... express...

...

I am pulled from the fifth world, at the end of it. Aki - a man you do not remember - was a good friend of ours. He gave up his life knowing full well he would not come with me to the next world if I failed.

[ He tries to continue, but the words briefly catch in his throat before he has to pull his hands away from Vildred, as they start to shake. This is... still quite raw for Ras, obviously. ]

So... I should have... I should... have kept going... for Aki. He was... [ He squeezes his hands into fists in some desperate hope to get them to stop. To settle his emotions. ] He is my dear friend. And I miss him. But you... You held down Acolyte Kayron, and told me to kill him. But in doing so that would kill you, too.

I... I did. I killed you, a-and... I could... I could not...

I did... not want to s-save the world... anymore...

...

So... I... did not.

[bladeascent]

[Of course his first words weren't something formal like usual, of course they were something funny. Of course he tried to make Ras laugh, big and important as he is.

Five timelines. Five worlds gone, and Vildred doesn't know if he's from the one immediately proceeding or any after that. How many timelines had they failed? Just how many forward is Vildred's specifically? How would Ras even react to the news that there are more? Because — because if he came from the fifth world, he'd remember all of that. He'd know who Aki is, he'd remember holding Kayron down. But he doesn't. The last thing Vildred remembers is telling Ras that he'd go handle Kayron alone, and then he was slashed across the face, and...

...he puts his hand against the scar over his face for a moment, wondering if that may have been lights out. Hearing that he's died to Kayron multiple times doesn't exactly fill him with confidence. The scar throbs when he thinks about it, and so Vildred folds his hands in his lap before opting to clasp Ras' hands in his again. No, Ras isn't allowed to go anywhere; Vildred didn't say he could.]

Ras...

[He doesn't want to take people's sacrifices lying down. But at the same time, he feels so strangely moved by how deeply Ras loves him, has always loved him. It's an honour, to be so thoroughly beloved by anybody, especially Ras Elclare. Especially him.]

...you've been carrying a lot. I'm sorry that... any of that happened. That we failed so many times. [Because it was never just Ras' fault, was it? Vildred was always there, too.] I swear, we won't fail the next time.

[Not that he knows that.]

But while we're here... rest. You need a break more than anyone in all the worlds here. You always take care of me, it sounds like, so let me take care of you.

Okay?

I don't have good enough soggy Genesis so-

[divinechains]

[ He isn't sure what he is expecting. He doesn't expect Vildred to yell, if he's being honest. Because he imagines this news would be conflicting to Vildred. On the one hand, he made a choice. He followed his heart, and not just doing something for the sake of making everyone happy. It's something he wanted, and surely that accounts for something, with the man who's constantly trying to get Ras to have opinions and make his own choices.

But on the other hand, this is something that goes against Vildred's very ideals. He had said to Ras that saving the world is... living for those who have died. To continue moving forward in their memory. For Ras to throw that all away...

He would hate me. Ras is so very sure about this. So, no, he does not think Vildred will yell. Vildred does not handle his emotions very well, but he is usually pretty level when it comes to things like rage. He would be angry, and would tell Ras he should probably go. Or maybe he would break up with him on the spot and say something "if you really knew me, you wouldn't have done that". Or maybe something more like, "then you should know how disgusted I am to hear you would do something like that".

He expects this. He doesn't know if his heart can take it. All that talk beforehand about the first world? All just cushion. No, he deserves to know that, too. All just stupid excuses. It wasn't excuses, it was explanations. "I love you, please don't hate me". Pathetic. Stop it.

...

When Vildred gently takes Ras' hands is when the Heir himself breaks. He sobs in a way that he hadn't since the first world. It isn't just tears. It isn't soft crying. He full on sobs and eventually buries his face into Vildred. He does not deserve this. Vildred has every right to hate him.

He would not blame him, or even ask Diche to damn everyone if he had. But he very well might devote himself to doing better until he could see Vildred smile again. That's all he wants. All he needs. So long as he can protect that smile... ]

...I'm sorry. [ He manages. ] I'm so sorry. [ For once, he's at a loss for anything else to say. ]

[bladeascent]

[It's as conflicting as it is humbling. To think that someone like Ras Elclare would go out of his way for him. That a sacrifice such as Vildred's would destroy him so thoroughly, when Vildred simply considered it a means to an end. No wonder, then, that he was always so upset when Vildred would tell Ras he'd die for him, for their cause. He's never minded throwing his life away if it meant the world would be peaceful.

He hadn't ever considered that he might mean something more to someone than simply a pawn in a war.

Vildred embraces him, setting his cheek atop Ras' head, squeezing the much smaller Heir in his arms. Like this, Ras feels impossibly fragile.]

It's alright. More than anyone, you deserve to cry. I wasn't... thinking, I guess, that I would mean so much to someone so important as you. I might have been more cautious with my life if I had.

[divinechains]

[ He closes his eyes, wanting to wail, wanting to throw a fit, and he isn't sure why. Perhaps its his emotionally immaturity? He was no raised, nor born with it. He's discovering his emotions are not gone or missing, but rather tumultuous and the way the rattle against the confines of his skull is enough to scare him a bit. If he's this emotional over something like this, then...? ]

I... [ Deep breath. You need to calm down if you want to speak, Ras. ] It is not your fault. It is my own. [ He will not squeeze Vildred, for he is hurting and bruised. But it doesn't stop him from reaching behind Vildred and squeezing the headboard until his hand hurt. ] I was the one to seek you out in every timeline. It did not feel right when you were not at my side. I felt antsy, anxious, paranoid. I had to figure out if you had a different role in this world, or what factors might affect you.

[ He visibly shakes as his gem fluctuates in light, both from the magic suppression and his intense emotion right now. ]

And that made you stuck with me. Orbis was plagued with war, and I ingrained you into it by being around me.

[bladeascent]

Hey... that's not true.

[Vildred starts to rub Ras' back, trying to will him to breathe, to calm down and think. It's a difficult battle, but he's sure Ras can do it. He believes.]

We Dayerns are knights. Our entire family is basically raised for it. I was picking up practice swords when I was four and could barely walk without tripping over myself. No matter what happened, you didn't drag me into this unending war. I would have stumbled into it regardless, because that's what knights do. We protect people. We're supposed to fight in wars, even if I'd rather they don't exist at all.

If I have to be in a war at all... I'd much rather fight it at your side. Your light makes everything easier on me.

[divinechains]

[ Ras shoves himself against Vildred, holding him tight enough that the both of them might as well be inseparable, but not tight enough to hurt him more than he already is. ]

I do not understand how you, of all people, can say that.

...You were never a Saint in any of the Worlds. [ He closes his eyes. ] But you could have been. Your angelic smile could never be recreated by statue, yet I would find faith in it every time.