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]

[It's fine, he is not at all unfamiliar with enthusiastic handshakes. He'll accept it with a cordial smile before bringing his hands back to himself so he can finish preparing his drink, bringing it over with him so they can continue their conversation in the comfort of the living room.]

It's been a few months now, not long. I arrived when there was a lot more snow on the ground, though that isn't saying much.

[Given that it's just been. Consistently cold this whole time, made worse by the state of the sky right now.]

We only had about a month or so of "levity", if you could call it that, before these creatures started appearing.

[ninelines]

[Though he will never voice this aloud for fear of how it might come across, he is admittedly incredibly relieved to have a conversation with someone who seemingly has come from a place a bit more grounded. Not that he had any room to talk given the state of the Sol System, but... those places weren't suffused with magic.

He briefly considers making a drink of his own, then dismisses the thought to trail after Corbeau.]

I have to wonder about the weather and seasonal patterns of a place like this. It is actually a relief, somehow, that the cold wasn't also brought by unsettling cosmic bodies hung in the sky.

[Lodi crosses his arms, glancing momentarily in the direction of the outdoors.]

I hope it ends soon, for your sakes. I've only been here a short while and I'm already sick of the current state of affairs. I can only imagine what it's been like, experiencing it for a whole month.

[loansharpedo]

[Oh buddy just wait until you meet his Scolipede. Thankfully Scolipede is in his Pokeball right now because it's not polite to let your horse-sized bug run around the room with strangers.]

From what I understand, the weather has been unrelated to that. But I could be wrong.

[He wouldn't be surprised if the weird state of the sky is the culprit for it being colder than it should be, let's just put it that way.]

I don't think being trapped indoors like this is a common occurrence, given how the longer-lived residents have responded to it. We're lucky that we won't be running out of food and water any time soon, so we can stay indoors indefinitely for now if we really have to. I just have to hope the building walls hold like they have been.

[ninelines]

[Seeing a Pokemon galloping around in any capacity would likely give him a minor heart attack, so it is for the best that said Scolipede is not out and about at the moment! His capacity for taking things in stride only truly gets him so far, and reckoning with colorful, fantastical beasts might just put him over the proverbial edge at the moment.]

That makes sense. Uh, I’m guessing part of it is it simply being winter here…? I have no idea if the calendars here are the same, or even if the seasons cycle the same way. I have a budding sense of the everyday here at best, unfortunately.

[The comment about the walls has Lodi glancing furtively, nervously, towards said walls for a split second. He wasn’t helpless, necessarily, but he couldn’t say he would relish the idea of having to fight the creatures outside. It was almost an assured fact that he would fall eventually in such circumstances, and he also doesn’t relish the idea of dying.]

I guess that’s a relief…? I really, really hope so too. Now it feels like I’ve been taking the safety here a bit for granted. But, well, if this isn’t the usual, then surely it can’t last all that much longer. I can’t imagine it’s very entertaining for…

[He gestures vaguely towards the sky. Or the ceiling, in this case.]

You know who, to sit there watching us all mope about indoors.

[loansharpedo]

Though the seasons follow a predictable pattern, time...doesn't exactly function here the way any of us are used to. It's very difficult to measure in days, or weeks. We do the best that we can, though.

[He tries to keep a mental estimate of what's going on, at the very least. It may not be exact, but it's better than nothing.]

That's what I'm afraid of. It can't be long until he comes up with his next ploy to toy with us. I think he enjoys the element of anticipation, to an extent.

[Though, the bugs and the amount of destruction they've caused seem a little much even for Suri. Part of Corbeau wonders if there might not be something else at play here they don't know about.]

[ninelines]

Right, right. It kind of seems as though the largest passages in time can be measured by whatever horrible event befalls everyone here, huh?

[ Wait, that's a horrible way to put it. He doesn't necessarily take it back, because there is truth to it, but he at least has the good nature to wince as soon as it's out of his mouth. ]

I... guess it makes sense, ultimately. In the worst way possible. Keeping people constantly on edge, waiting for that other shoe to drop... at the very least it seems like people have been able to cobble together some sort of life here, in spite of everything going on. And, uh, most of the people I've met have seemed... at least some level of well-adjusted?

[loansharpedo]

[Not like he can be blamed for calling it as he sees it, can he?]

As well-adjusted as they can be, considering.

[Because not a damn one of them is normal, he's sure of that much.]

I'm sorry that's the world you've had to wake up in, but...what helps is that this little community has banded together to face it as a whole. I don't get the impression that isn't the case, anyway.

[ninelines]

Oh, yeah, no, for sure.

[ Sorry, Corbeau, the Midwesternism is strong in this one even with the time difference. He’s agreeing with you, promise. ]

Hey, what can I say – if things get even a little easier from this point onward it’ll feel like a blessing! And you’re right. People have been very kind to me. A few even went out of their way to show me the ropes, and I’ve been able to have some pretty nice chats – this one included!

[ Somehow managing a sunny smile in spite of the horrors outside. ]

It’s helped with some of the normalcy. So, I really do appreciate it.

[loansharpedo]

It's not a problem. It's the least I could do. We are in the same situation, after all. No sense in remaining strangers, hm?

[And as he says that, he'll turn and offer a mug of freshly made coffee that he was preparing as they were talking, except this one is for Lodi to drink.]

Here you are. It's nowhere near as nice as what I could give you from the cafes back home, but it's warm at least.

[ninelines]

I definitely agree, but, uh, also wouldn't blame anyone for trying to keep their distance. I can't imagine it's easy, being deposited here in the first place, and then having to grapple with learning the names and circumstances of forty plus people. Honestly, my head has been spinning since I got here, and I've only met a handful.

[ Corbeau, you have firmly cemented yourself in Lodi's mind as a reliable, kindhearted person. Whether or not this is actually true is unimportant in the current scheme of things. He takes that coffee like it is his new lifeline, cradling it between his hands with a deeply grateful look on his face. ]

No, this is perfect. Thank you very much. It's a relief to be able to have something like this at all.

[loansharpedo]

[Corbeau is a scary person to most who meet him. He's the head of an organization that often ropes people into working for him to pay off their debts...but he has them do community service to make the city a better place. He is a pure example of looks (and personality) can oftentimes be deceiving.

And here, in the Grove? He has no reason to make people feel like they aren't safe. He may not be able to guarantee that continues, but he can at least do what he can to lessen the strain.]

It's no problem. Try to take some time for yourself, if you can. Adjusting to all of this is far from easy.

[ninelines]

[ In many ways, if Lodi knew the truth of Corbeau's modus operandi and his prior profession, it would neither come as a shock nor necessarily put him off. Working in any kind of governmental capacity had a way of jading you to the many different hats people could simultaneously wear. As is, his current assessment of Corbeau is surface level and itching for more, as is his usual wont: he strikes Lodi as someone capable and level-headed, with a well-honed capacity for talking to people. That was, surprisingly, exceptionally rare.

Especially in his limited experience with some of the residents here. Not to insult any one of them mentally, but it was obvious to Lodi that many of them weren't necessarily "people-people". ]

I've weighed whether this is a faux pas with a few different people, but… were these sorts of disaster scenarios common where you came from? Some people either seem well-versed in managing themselves under that kind of pressure or entirely too used to it, so I'm curious. If you don't mind me asking, of course!

[loansharpedo]

I don't mind. In my case, it's a bit difficult to explain.

[He adjusts his glasses, glancing off to the side. How do you even begin to talk about the Ultimate Weapon, especially in the context of how it affected the region five years ago?]

Five years ago, a zealot set off a weapon of mass destruction in the middle of the region where I live. Though it did not fully eradicate the region, for a blessing, it affected the landscape, the people, and the Pokemon that live there for years. We're still feeling the affects of it to this day. That sort of man-made disaster probably doesn't compare the same as some of the things this place sees, but...I've lived through it. It's probably why I am able to handle it.