logs | MOD EVENT #001

Entry tags:

MOD EVENT #001

A CHAOTIC RESPITE

It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.

On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...

“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”

...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?

► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)

When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.

“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition. It's the absence of the lantern that is contributing to the wood’s unusually active malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”

So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.

It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.

► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.

No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.

Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you: I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?

If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.

the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail.
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.

► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME

Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.

Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.

“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”

And without further ado, let the festivities begin!

► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.

► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.

► Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.
► Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
► Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
► Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
► Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
► Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.

. ► HARVEST HUNT
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.

► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.

► III. WAYWARD SUN

The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.

ooc note

► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
► You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
► For a little spooky ambience in the woods.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

("feel obligated to because of who or what i am". awfully so, that resonates. just how many people used him, he's lost count to the sands of time. it only gets worse when she speaks, more and more he sees himself in that girl.

mikey can't help when he's in the same position, when she talks to him as if she knows exactly what he goes through - even if he highly doubts she struggles with the exact same thing as he does.

... so, he just gently sets his blood-stained hand on the blonde locks, a gentle petting caress before it starts to hurt him to do so. a trembling hand pulls away before there's a sigh to offer her support to stand up.)

... Come on. Let's get going before you get too depressing.

(MIKEY THERE ARE FUCKERS DYING)

[ She freezes as he places his hand on her head, gaze moving back to him as gently caresses it. Clearly dumbfounded by the gesture, she blinks a few times as he lifts his hand and offers it out.

He's helping her up, but that-- ]

...What?

[ Just a general "what". Because there is A Fucking Lot going on here. But at least she let him help? ]

Edited (wording) 2022-10-25 01:52 (UTC)

We're blonde. If we don't deal with that, it's going to get stained, ain't it? I don't want to ask a reaper if they've got purple shampoo going on.

(he's pointing to his head, now red covering most of the white in varying shades of pink, orange, and crimson. he'd know even without it - he's naturally blonde himself, and often covered in blood.

there are beheaded bodies, and well, mikey avoids some, but steps on others. it is what it is.)

[ But there are people dying here? Again?? When he gives his reason, all she can really do is offer an extremely sardonic, very thin smile at him, ]

I think you're too late for that, Mikey-san...

[ So is she, but hats thankfully exist in this creepy hellscape that might actually be hell. Her temple is already stained, and now she's got a nice, giant crimson blotch on the top of her head. But it's fine. ]

So wait, you're really just gonna leave? While people still need help? And you expect me to come with you?

[ Says the woman who has been at this for entirely too long, and is going to be absolutely dead on her feet once she gets away from here. ]

(mhm? it takes him a moment to realize what exactly does she mean, and then he looks around a beat, two beats... oh, yeah. that's right.)

These are not my people. I don't really care - and it's nothing much for me to see something like this. People may think of you as a monster, but people who know me are sure of it. If you don't want to wash your hair, don't complain later when it stains, okay?

[ His people, he says. She knows who he's talking about even if she's never met them. Never will meet them. But a boss takes care of their own and nobody else, even she knows that. Which is why Hibiki heaves a quiet sigh, looking briefly conflicted before bringing a hand to the side of her head; wincing, then settling to rest it by her hip instead. ]

Then... I guess I'm lucky you're trying to look out for me. [ A beat, as she relents. A little rest would probably be good for her, and not just vocally. ]

They'll probably still be at it in a couple of hours anyway.

(funnily enough, it's not bonten in its entirety he speaks of. it's the men he grew up with, conquered tokyo with, brawled with, who are now living dignified lives. that's who he truly cares about, the rest of the world can burn.

the words 'look out for me' make the hairs on the back of his neck raise, visible from his haircut. don't. do not.)

They're dying anyway, Hibi. Nothing you can do about that. I'll see you around if you don't come.

[ H̵e̸'̴s̵ ̴r̶i̵g̵h̷t̶,̸ ̸y̶o̵u̵ ̶k̵n̸o̷w̸.̶ ̷B̴u̷t̴ ̸y̶o̷u̶ ̸d̶o̵n̶'̴t̵ ̵n̵e̷e̴d̸ ̷e̸i̵t̵h̷e̶r̷ ̷o̵f̸ ̸u̴s̸ ̵t̵o̸ ̸t̶e̴l̸l̶ ̶y̶o̷u̸ ̷t̷h̵a̶t̶,̶ ̶d̷o̷ ̸y̴o̸u̴?̶

Of course that would come out when she's physically and mentally exhausted. She knows there's nothing that she can do about the inevitable. The only reason she doesn't immediately fight back is out of fatigue. It's hard looking on the bright side when she can't even come at this with a clear head.

Closing the distance between them, frustration clear from her expression, she heaves a sigh. ]

...Let's go, then.

[ She hates this so much. ]

Finally you get it.

(there's an opening for her to stick her arm around his while his hands are stuck into his pockets, but he won't call attention to it whatever. there should be a public bath, something, once they reach the city.

and off they go.)

[ She hates it. She hates that there's practically nothing she can do for these people. She hates how helpless she feels, especially as the rush of adrenaline starts to bleed off.

He's probably going to kick her ass, but seeing that arm sticking out, she tentatively reaches for it, loop hers through. Her own arm trembles despite her trying to steady it. ]

Sorry. Just give me a minute. At least until we get away from here...

... Don't get too used to it.

(... it reminds him of emma. it doesn't help that hibiki has just as bright and fair hair, the cheery disposition, and she's clinging to him much like his sister would.

... hurts, but he won't let himself show it.)

I know.

[ The answer comes out reflexively, but she makes no effort to take it back. It feels like he barely tolerates her sometimes but looks out for her in instances like this, so she has no clue where she sits.

Best just to go with the flow. ]

...Thanks. I'll get used to this eventually.

You're a kind spirit. You'll break if you don't learn how to swallow it and move on.

(or break if you do, as none of them are particularly healthy in this regard, it seems. mikey's never asked for help - not in a way that would help him. how could he ever?

strength lies in many ways.)

If you break, you can't help anyone.

[ That's something else they have in common; asking for help is the last thing she ever wants to do. But his read on her when they first met was right, she's a good person who doesn't know how harsh the world can be. ]

...I don't know how you do it, how you can keep it from effecting you.

[ Y̶o̴u̵ ̴c̵a̴n̸ ̶l̸e̵t̸ ̴m̵e̶ ̶t̶a̷k̵e̷ ̴o̶v̴e̸r̵.̸ ̸I̷'̵l̸l̸ ̵s̷h̴o̶u̸l̶d̴e̵r̵ ̵t̶h̵a̷t̶ ̶b̷u̷r̴d̴e̷n̸ ̶f̶o̸r̶ ̸y̷o̸u̶.̵

... ]

I thought I was strong, but... now I don't know.

... Honestly, I don't care. I've seen more people stabbed, dead, and I've killed more than I can count. If it were someone I care about, then it's a different story.

(it's not even the dark impulses, it's just -- who mikey had always wanted to be. he had to be strong, to show no vulnerability. strength means love, and love is what he hoped to find in the hospital where his mother rested for all his childhood. it's what the manji saw when they needed him.

strength means he doesn't cry when she passes away, nor does he shed a tear for shinichiro in front of others - all done where no one can see, can think of him less than the strong man he promised he would be.

so. it is what it is.)

[ None of this surprises her; such is the life of a yakuza leader. But she has to wonder how he got there in the first place, what pulled him down that path or if he had chosen it willingly. And after seeing a glimmer of joy surface during the brief part of the festival she attended, it makes this all the more tragic.

She doesn't think he's a good person, but rather someone who did what he had to likely to survive. Is that what it would take for her to be able to cope with and be okay with bloodshed to this degree?

I̸f̴ ̵y̴o̵u̵ ̵w̵a̴n̴n̸a̶ ̶p̷r̵o̶t̸e̵c̷t̴ ̸e̵v̷e̶r̸y̵o̴n̶e̴,̷ ̶t̵h̴a̸t̸'̶s̷ ̸t̵h̶e̵ ̴p̶a̵t̴h̴ ̶y̶o̴u̸'̴v̷e̷ ̶g̵o̴t̷t̴a̴ ̴t̴a̷k̴e̸.̸ ̶H̶e̸'̵s̸ ̶r̵i̸g̵h̸t̶,̷ ̴y̵o̴u̷ ̴n̶e̸e̷d̷ ̶t̸o̸ ̵g̸e̷t̷ ̷u̸s̷e̴d̶ ̷t̸o̵ ̴t̶h̴i̷s̶.̷ ̸H̶e̵r̷o̴e̶s̵ ̷a̴n̸d̷ ̴v̴i̷l̴l̴a̵i̸n̸s̶ ̵a̸r̴e̷n̷'̶t̴ ̷r̸e̴a̴l̴l̴y̸ ̸t̶h̸a̸t̸ ̸d̴i̴f̴f̶e̴r̴e̷n̷t̵,̵ ̷j̶u̶s̶t̵ ̶d̴e̴p̶e̵n̸d̸s̵ ̷o̶n̷ ̶w̶h̸o̸ ̵c̶o̵n̴t̶r̵o̸l̷s̵ ̸t̸h̵e̷ ̶n̶a̷r̶r̶a̶t̴i̴v̶e̷.̵

Her eyes lower as her shadow actually gives her something to think about. ]

...Then I'll do the mourning for you. Doesn't matter if it somebody who either of us care about. But if it is, I've got your back. I'll help you deal with that, within reason. [ "I won't kill for you," being what's heavily implied here. ]

Hibiki.

(he has to stop, to reground, to breathe away the anxiety that starts to build. undoubtedly, he cares about her. he likes her, there are parts of her that he can't help but seeing emma in her smile, enthusiasm, care. it's projecting, but it's what's getting them to where they are, and he moves to face her.

her own irises are now stared by the two black, empty holes that are manjiro's eyes, and he has to speak up.)

I need you to keep a distance from me, alright? Don't go getting too comfortable, or putting the responsibility on your shoulders like this. I can't control myself, and the least attached you get to me, the better for both of us. That way, I worry less, and you breathe longer. Now come on, or I'm making you bleach my hair to get rid of the orange.

[ Hibiki stops when he stops, meeting his gaze fully, even if she doesn't understand what he's doing at first. She listens, but whether she chooses to take heed to what he says is something else entirely. Like she cares what happens to herself in the long run.

But is he trying to protect her, or himself? ]

Pretty sure none of us breathe down here because we have to.

[ That's incredibly dark, Hibiki. But it wouldn't be her if she didn't try to add some levity to this. ]

You think isolating yourself is healthy? If we can believe what we've heard about soulmates and the need for the bonds here... I'm sorry, but I can't just leave you someone to suffer just because they worry about losing control.

[ If he hasn't already started walking, Hibiki will tug her along. Come on, she wants to get the blood out of her hair. ]

I'm the person who gets to decide who I'm going to attach herself to, not you.

Who gives a fuck about healthy, Hibi. There's someone at home just like you. A man I love deeply. When I came to, I had shot Takemichi three times and I left him to die anyway. You're not joining the club.

(an order, a request, but most importantly, it's the authority that he's employing in his voice, a thundering aura surrounding him.)

[ Hibiki isn't talking about joining his ranks, she doesn't have the stomach for it. Doesn't want to become that type of person who engages in senseless violence.

She takes a deep breath through her nose, eyes wide open as she forcefully keeps her eyes forward. He shot a man he loved, but... ]

...What do you mean "when you came to"?

[ Her stomach is in knots. It's a turn of speech, it has to be. There's no way that he's experienced the same weird black-outs that she has, right? ]

Not important.

(it's not dismissal, it's just because he finally found a body of water. without product, it's going to be harder to remove all of the scarlet, but he can at least get the excess out.)

You swim?

[ Wait, what kind of nonsequitor is this? Hibiki hasn't quite added up that he plans on having them take a dip. ]

Yeah? I'm not sure why you're asking, though...

Because we're soaked in blood? Do you have a better idea?

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

MOD EVENT #001

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

I accidentally deleted this notif, heck

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject