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

cw: blood! weird blood!

[charlastan]

[The world is still silent except for the crunch of snow beneath his feet, and Stan can feel his own heart starting to race. This is a trap. It has to be a trap, someone probably sent that lost kid as a runner to lure him out here so they could off him or get into the house where Dipper and his friend are--

No. He shakes his head hard, trying to get out of his own head. The tenseness remains, but he has to focus.]

LAST CHANCE OR I'M LEAVING YOU TO THE BUGS, KID...!

[And he waits for an answer.

...Unfortunately, he waits a beat too long.

He sees the movement out of the corner of his eye, but Till is faster. In a desperate move he points and fires but it's a complete miss, only putting a hole in the snow several yards away and sending a wave of powder flying. Between that and the clang of the shovel, the whole world echoes as it goes dark, sharp in his hearing aid.

It's a quick, clean hit to the back of the head, and Stan falls hard. From here a regular person would bleed out into the snow right away, but something a little weird happens. It's a pale, sickly blue, and it only bleeds for a moment or so once it leaves the wound. After that, it begins to freeze into hard chunks. Some are several inches wide from the volume of bleed, but many others tumble out like the filling in a torn bean bag chair, clinking together as they spill. If Till looks at the shovel, he'll see that instead of a bloodstain, the strange blue blood is frozen in the shape of the splatter. It is cold to the touch, but it will not melt.

Stan does not move. He's gone.]

[foreversembrace]

[It happens so quickly that Till genuinely doesn't even get a good, clear look at who he's struck before it's already happened. He hits Stan, he falls, he manages to avoid getting his torso blown open by a shotgun. He's shaking as he stands there holding the shovel, his gaze following his hands to the handle, all the way up to the metal spade where Stan's strange blood has begun to crystalize.

Horrified, he practically throws the shovel away from himself, the motion causing him to stumble and fall backwards onto his ass in the snow bank. He stares ahead blankly for a moment at Stan's body, equal parts petrified and overwhelmed by the adrenaline coursing through his veins as it slowly sinks in that he's hurt someone.

...no. Killed someone.

Stan isn't moving. He isn't breathing. Till doesn't have to feel for a pulse to know that...never mind the strange way he bleeds that leaves Till too overwhelmed to speak. He knows, given their current situation, he can't go running for help. People aren't going to see him as anything but cruel in this kind of scenario, and he wouldn't blame them for it. It doesn't matter that Stan will be back soon, or that he'll be presumably made immortal thanks to the Forest's deal.

It's too much. Before he can think to do much of anything, Till manages to scramble to his feet and takes off into the blizzard. He does not go back to the Inn, at least...not yet.]

[ghostharasser]

[You know, Dipper has not had a great month. He has not had a great 24 hours, considering what had started as a conversation to settle Aira down from trying to off himself to Dipper accidentally discharging his gun into him, taking that option out of his hands.]

[So when he hears Stan shouting, to try not to absolutely lose his mind, he treks out into the snow to find him. He has to tell him what happened, they have to do something with Aira's body. He's shaking as he grips the Azure Pine even if the last thing he wants to do is hold it right now-]

[He hears the altercation, finds Stan's body, and starts tracking the footsteps in the snow. That sure as hell didn't look like an accident and before Dipper can absolutely fall to pieces over everything that just happened, he's gripped by the one thing he can focus on, and that's revenge. So, with that single minded goal overshadowing everything else, he hunts Till down.]

[That will be the sound Till hears eventually, the blast of a shotgun hitting the side of a tree not far from him. That's the only warning shot he's going to get.]

[foreversembrace]

[Till hears it. The blast rings so loudly in his ears that they ring, and he just barely manages to duck (though it's more like he trips, startled) out of the way as chips of wood are blasted clean off the tree past his head. His breath catches, his heart already pounding in his ears as he stupidly casts a glance behind himself, sees Dipper for just a brief moment...

Panic sets in. He knows that even if he tried to take the time to explain himself, Dipper wouldn't be willing to hear any of it. Hell, he himself wouldn't want to, if their positions were switched. But out of desperation and sheer self-preservation, he continues to try to run, practically throwing himself through the heavy snow banks as he stumbles into the tree line.

Fortunately for Dipper, he won't have to go far. Till is struggling as it is, and the second he tries to go too much deeper into where the snow nearly goes past his knees, he ends up losing his footing and tumbles chest-first into the snow.]