wildestlogs | INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

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INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

INTO THE WOODS

The faerie faire goes on into the evening, the faire filled with the sounds of revelry. For those who've spent the day there, the cool evening air is welcome respite from the bright sun that's shined all day. Those who still have some faerie gold might even want to invest in a cloak if they haven't gotten one yet, because it may get chillier as night falls.

As evening descends and various floating flowers start to glow to provide light, the spring faeries start to bring out night-time merchandise and amusements, like brightly-colored phosphorescent flower jewelry. Fireflies are charmed to blink in different colors and magical fireworks paint the sky in vibrant light. They're quieter than normal fireworks, but there are still satisfying snaps and hisses.

It seems like it'll be a pleasant night at the fair and those only just arriving in the evening will find a charming scene opening up before them.

But one thing that isn't noticed as evening begins to fall is the way the winter faeries suddenly slink away into the rising dark. Or at least it isn't noticed until it's too late. Some of the summer faeries start to react to it with alarm.

"Where did they go? The winter faeries are supposed to provide security, they signed an agreement. Go tell Ponto and get some faeries with warding magic to shore up the wards." Faeries start flying with purpose to speak to others that need to be put on security. "We can handle it ourselves but we need to get enough people out to the borders."

"Should we disperse the faire?"

"No, there's no sign of any threats and if we re-ward it, they'll be safer here than people scattering in the woods at night. Even if we had the bad luck to be attacked before the wards are re-done we can defend them with our magic - and we're contracted to."

Unfortunately that bad luck hits too soon. While the faeries scramble to re-do the defense wards, an unearthly fog rolls in. Terrible screeches start to rend the air, sounding similar to the screams of foxes. Warning bells ring from warning wards placed in certain areas of the woods.

"Nightrenders!" someone calls out and people in the crowd start screaming, gathering their loved ones closer. Horrifying beings start to pour into the faire and the hand stamps of all the people who bought tickets ahead of time start to glow. Faeries rally around those people, casting powerful defensive spells. Due to the panic, several stalls start to go up in flames due to knocked over cooking fires. Fortunately the stalls are small enough for people to escape them easily and spread far enough apart that they can be avoided, but smoke joins the fog in the air.

If a faerie sees one of the squad of otherworlders, and their lack of glowing hand stamp they're quick to offer a warning. "You have to run! The people who bought tickets ahead of time entered into a magical agreement of protection. The warding takes time to charge. We can do nothing for you, without slow-charge wards we're not powerful enough to protect you. The Nightrenders will devour your brain, or your soul."

Apparently that little disclaimer about not being fully protected that some of them read while coming in (for those that had arrived earlier in the day) was more important than it seemed.

The faeries always point the same way, still trying to help the people without tickets. "To the north! There's a place in a canyon with a large, glowing crystal. It looks like an abandoned market and dwellings. You'll be safe there, the magic of the Heartstone will protect you."

USEFUL LINKS

Setting Background/FAQ | Major NPCs

NIGHTRENDERS

The beings known as Nightrenders start amassing on the faire. Their movements are quick but clumsy, as if every one of their movements is made up of a hundred janky, smaller fits and starts, like they're made of clockwork. The faerie magic summer faeries use seems to do no more than stagger them back or temporarily knock them over, but at least makes it clear to the squad that they at least can be knocked over and slowed down. At the very least it seems to take them some time to get off the ground and back to their feet.

Attacks

They attack anyone they see in different ways. Some they wound with massive claws. Or they squeeze someone's torso and nearly suffocate them to give them a chance at possibly chomping into the heads of their victims to get at the brains. Most dangerously of all, they breathe in with a loud sucking noise, clawed hands guiding the magic that lets them drawn out someone's soul to devour it. It looks like a small delicate thing, sometimes in the form of a glittering star or a flower, as its drawn out of the victim's mouth.

This process can fortunately be interrupted if the Nightrender is attacked. As long as the soul hasn't been sucked into their mouths, it goes back into the victim.

Cursed Aura

But the whole thing is complicated by the magical aura caused by the Nightrenders. When they draw close, everyone around them is choked with fear, grief, and dread. Some succumb to visions of their worse memories playing out in their heads over and over. Some might be able to still stagger away in this state, trying to see through the visions, especially if someone helps them along, but others will find it nearly impossible to do anything other than curl on the ground. It is unknown why some don't have the flashbacks or can power through them more than others, though it's thought that those that repress their bad memories or negative emotions struggle more.

Anyone that helps someone who's having visions may get a glimpse of their memories - and empathically feel a flash of the pain, fear, rage, or grief they felt during the memory. If two people try to help each other move forward when both are having visions, they may transmit glimpses back and forth.

Weaknesses

The Nightrenders cannot be destroyed, only knocked down, or slowed down. However, those with "holy" weapons, spells, or powers, or those who have weapons, spells, or powers that can hurt "ethereal" beings or evil spirits will find they can cause them enough pain that sometimes they run away. Spells and abilities that create magical manifestations of good will and happiness, as well as spells of light, or purification can also harm them and drive them away.

THE SISTERS

The Nightrenders don't speak, but some have the misfortune of hearing two voices echo out of the fog. The come in stereo, only just slightly out of sync.

"Chosen Ones, you must be so confused. You've become lost in the forest, and the Dark Lord's nightmares already pursue you. Fortunately for you, our mistress desires your company. You'll adore obeying her will. Don't run, embrace a better destiny."

Two woman in white masks and straw hats, with cloaks made from the feathers of ravens, come out of the fog, body language almost identical. No eyes can be seen through the eyeholes of their masks, just darkness.

They start attacking, and when they beset their victims they stop speaking, refusing to talk or answer questions, instead filling the air with wild, mocking laughter. One wields twin katanas, the other a kusarigama with a painful claw at the end of the chain that closes down when it hits something.

Nets

While they're extremely willing to injure the squad they seem to be trying to capture them instead of killing (albeit capturing them after they're maimed), occasionally tossing out nets of glowing silver of moonlight. Being caught in the nets renders someone paralyzed and weak, a deep cold settling into the marrow of their bones. Some may even hear the shrieks of dying loved ones, whether they've actually died in reality or not. The Sisters apparently have the strength to carry even the largest of the squad in the air and will attempt to fly away when someone is ensnared.

The nets are difficult to destroy, but can be with great force of some kind. It has to be aimed at the part closest to the Sisters' hands, because the force required to break the nets would also injure those trapped inside them. The cold and paralysis fades when the victims are free, but some of the rescued may feel weak and need help staying on their feet. Unfortunately, even when they're broken, the nets of moonlight seem to be something they can recreate within several minutes.

Smoke Monsters

For some, they don't attack directly. Instead, one of the sisters pulls out a pipe and smoke monsters pour out of it. They try to drag their victims closer to the sisters so they can be caught in their nets. Fortunately, they can be destroyed with enough force.

While the Sisters seem impossible to injure, they can at least be caused pain with extreme enough attacks, something that makes them teleport away before risking any further injury.

PROMPTS

a) RENT
Uh oh, a Nightrender has you. Either it's squeezing you so hard you're suffocating and about to chomp into some juicy brains, or it's in the process of sucking your soul out through your mouth. In either case, you're likely broadcasting visions of your worst memories in small flashes to whoever is near. You're in desperate need of rescue and the summer faeries can't help - their magic is all but useless on the Nightrenders if it didn't have time to build by a covenant. Only others that fell into the Wilderlands like you did can save you.

(Feel free to provide multiple memory options ala a memshare, but keep in mind they'd only be flashes instead of a full memory!)

b) NABBED
The Sisters have got you, their smoke monsters are trying to drag you away, or you're still trying to fight them to avoid being caught. It'll be a lot easier if you have help - otherwise you're outnumbered and possibly outclassed. The only way to stop them is fight back hard enough that they feel you're not worth the effort and teleport off.

c) RESCUE
Perhaps you're not affected by the Nightrenders or are just good at powering through the haze of painful magic they're inflicting on the area. Either way, you're out to help the people around you. Perhaps you run into another member of the otherworlder squad that needs saving - or maybe they join you to protect a third otherworlder, or a denizen of the Wilderlands that also forewent a ticket and is therefore at risk. Unlike many of the people from other universes, many of the denizens of the Wilderlands are powerless and thought they were in for a day and night of safe fun.

There are also other hazards to rescue people from. Maybe a small child has been separated from their parents and is disoriented by smoke, in need of rescued from some flaming tents. Or maybe an elderly person has fallen and is at risk of being trampled. There are lots of reasons people might need help, due to fires, panicked horses, collapsing tents, and panicking crowds.

d) RUN
It's time to run! Perhaps, after some screaming and confusion - and teleportation - you finally grab a buddy and bolt through the woods. You better run fast because the Nightrenders and the Sisters may give up chase at some point but it may take time and moving through difficult terrain in the fog to lose them. Perhaps you and a partner have to help a third, injured otherworlder because they're having trouble walking.

Better head north like the faeries said. The faeries were right that this Heartstone to the north may be your only hope - and you'll have to reach it despite the fading evening light, skies overcast with dark clouds, and fog.

It may be easier navigating in the dark with a partner or two.

e) WILDCARD
Maybe you decide to do none of the above. Go nuts!

OOC DETAILS
❧ Quest magic: Players can handwave that the quest bond magic is tugging the group northward to the safe place, with the mysterious Heartstone. They can also use the quest magic as an excuse for many different threads. As the group tries to run, their scattering movements will affect the magic and cause people to teleport at random, allowing for many different encounters with many other characters. This can explain why two characters that might otherwise stay together through the whole thing might get separated.

❧ Network: The network can now be used. Mirrors can and do float if someone is trying to talk through one and running, and can follow someone as they move, allowing people to communicate on the go or during action. Feel free to start using the network in parallel with the log events.

❧ NPCing: The mods won't be npcing but players are free to npc the actions of bystanders, the Nightrenders, and the Sisters. The Sisters won't speak, just continue laughing, and players can npc their specific attacks, capture attempts, and teleportation. Please just don't have them talk or godmode them dying - they're currently a little too sturdy for that. If you have a question about whether/how something will affect them feel free to ask the mods in the first comment below.

❧ Environment: Feel free to manipulate the environment. There are things left over from the faire people can work with like bow and arrow sets from the competition, horses (which can be temporarily stolen, though we'd like to limit any that are permanently stolen to the (1) horse another player already requested), and even explosive faerie fireworks (they're quieter than the normal thing but still create a big bang). Abandoned stalls also have weapons and supplies to grab as people run for it. If they didn't think to steal or buy useful things during the day, please limit this to only grabbing one or two items as they run, like a cloak or sword. They won't have time to loot for more.

❧ Experimentation: We'd like to encourage people to experiment! Obviously ask other players if they're down first, but it could be fun to do something other than 2 person threads, like maybe 2 PCs banding to rescuing a 3rd. Players are also encouraged to set limitations if they think it'd be more interesting, like locking their final escape prompt from the faire grounds to a single thread partner and playing out the drama of a full escape.

[OOC: Plot is visible so people can see and start plotting together but not open until Nov. 1. The mods will enable comments then.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

1. headsnatcher (cw: violence, memories of decapitation by proxy)

a. open

In hindsight, she let her guard down too much. The faire had seemed so harmless that, after everything on the rig, she just wanted to relax for at least a little while. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Like anything's that simple.

The faeries tell them to run north and aye, that seems like a damn good idea, one Cammie has every intention of listening to, until suddenly the world around her is blotted out by the memory of a swirling, dark purple, smoke-like mass of nanites and a four-armed monster mech coming for her.

She doesn't stand a chance after that.

Cammie staggers and stumbles away from a figure that doesn't exist anywhere except her mind and her legs fall out from under her, the weight of the memory pushing her down, down, until she's doubled over on the floor, grasping her hair in closed fists. Agonising pain and bone-deep terror pin her in place, and anyone who comes close will get flashes of a terrifying figure, of metal creaking and tearing in such a way that you can feel it like it's a part of you, and a high-pitched, visceral scream.

b. for Caroline

It's only a matter of time before one of the Nightrenders comes upon such an easy target. Token efforts to push through the flood of memories only ever get her a few steps on her own, and it's only when the Nightrender grabs her by the torso she regains enough clarity to realise just how fucked she is.

It'd almost be funny, how history repeats itself, if she wasn't struggling to even breathe let alone clear her mind. Here she is again in some thing's grasp as it goes for her head, only this time it's really her. No Holon, no metal, just squishy human parts that can ache and bruise and bleed and die and the worst thing is, she can't even do anything about it. Past and present are blurring into one and though she grasps and kicks and screams, it feels like she's just repeating herself, mirroring the memory still running through her mind, still sending out flashes.

In both the past and the present, Cammie braces herself to die.

2. not gonna get me again

It's only when she's far, far away from the Nightrenders that Cammie can hear her own thoughts—with adrenaline pumping through her system she wouldn't even go so far as to say she was thinking clearly again, her mind racing and a familiar mix of anger and fear the force behind every choice she makes.

And the choice she makes is to help. To fight. To do something, to not be so goddamn useless that she's let this same shit happen to her twice now and— focus, Cammie.

a. open

There's people who need help, and that's something Cammie knows how to do just fine. She cuts loose horses with her sword where fumbling hands fail to release them, she shoos people in the right direction when they look lost in panic, she helps people to their feet and passes off the injured to someone who looks like they can help. She moves north, little by little, but she helps.

At one point, she stops when she hears shouting from beneath a collapsed tent—one on the bigger side, the material and poles heavy and at risk of catching light. Cammie runs over and starts trying to shift it, but it's harder than you'd think it should be. With a frustrated grunt, Cammie turns to look around and shouts at the first person she sees, "Oi! Come give me a hand here, would ye?"

b. open

Handy thing about this weird magic sword that's almost as tall as she is: when she's holding it, she feels like she knows exactly what to do with it. Never held a sword in her life before, but you wouldn't know it from the way she wields it, now, striking out at smoke monsters attempting to drag someone else away.

Cammie's short, and hardly muscled, but she didn't get through months of training at home and on the rig without getting fit, and no angry teenage girl should ever be underestimated. As one still-forming smoke being dissipates, she offers her hand to pull them up and says, "Come on, we gotta move! Those things that're blowing this shite out can't be far!"

3. wildcard

[ Throw something else at her, or feel free to hit me up at

bluecitrine for ideas. Also, will switch to brackets if you prefer. ]

"Nn - " Saturday grunts, Cammie's memories hitting her like a fist. But they're not her memories. They're not her pain. They don't have any hooks, they can't linger. She can push through and she does, collapsing next to the other woman.

"Cammie? Cammie, that you? It's me. Saturday. From the Rig. We gotta move." She tugs at Cammie's shoulder, trying to get her to stand. "Get up! Move! Come on!"

Saturday's hand touches Cammie's shoulder, Cammie recoils, and the flash of memory turns to the pressure of a strong, metal hand wrapped around the same spot, pushing down on her body whilst the other latches onto her head, tugs and twists and—

There's that strange sensation of metal tearing, of sparks and electricity arcing, of pain that's somehow tinged artificial and yet feels no less real. That piercing, visceral scream sounds electronic, and yet exactly the same as Cammie's real voice in the here and now, letting out an aborted cry of her own.

But reality must be creeping back in at the edges, because as Cammie shakes her head she splutters out a response.

"Saturday? Saturday, Saturday I—" A pitiful whimper. "Can't, I can't, he's got me, he's got me I can't—"

"Fuck that guy," Saturday says fiercely. "I got you. I'm right here. No motherfucker touches anyone while I breath."

She has both hands on Cammie now, metallic and flesh, but her metal arm is magic, not technology, warm and pliable as a real arm. And her eyes are boring into Cammie's, unmistakably not those of a machine.

"You can do this. You survived the Rig. This is nothing. Just lean on me, I'll get you up. We gotta move, Cammie."

Cammie's eyes seem to focus and unfocus, torn between seeing what's really here and seeing what's in her head. Gritting her teeth, tugging so hard at her hair it's a miracle she isn't pulling strands out, she lets out a frustrated, wordless shout.

"Fuck that guy," she repeats with a nod, voice still strained with the effort of fighting whatever this hell is to get one of her feet under her. "He's dead. He's— he's dead, and he cannae be here, and—"

She survived the rig. She helped everyone else survive the rig. Right. Right.

She stumbles, but she doesn't let herself fall back to her knees. She leans against Saturday, wordlessly doing what she says she needs to. The memory isn't gone, she can all but feel the claws on her chest, but Saturday's flesh and blood and here right now. She tries to focus on that.

"No, he can't," Saturday agrees. "And if he was here, I would kick his fucking ass. Guaranteed."

She slings Cammie's arms around her shoulder, hauling her to her feet. "Left foot first, then right, keep repeating. We'll get outta this. It's just some kind of fucking - despair aura. Hurts like a bitch but if we just clear the radius, we'll be fine."

She hopes they'll be fine. But her own memories are starting to hammer with her pulse at the cracks in her self-control. Maybe Cammie can sense them: insect wings and screaming and viscera on the floor; a body, dead but still breathing, staring blankly as an ovipositor slides lovingly into its slack mouth -

Saturday shakes her head, hard.

"Don't let it distract you." Don't let it distract me.

Cammie flinches, it's hard not to. A part of her is used to flashes of other people's memories, she's shared her mind with her team so many times, she's caught bits and pieces, they all have, but it's nothing like this. Like having the worst things thrust right at you.

Despair aura. Sounds about right.

But she keeps her feet under her. Has to rely on Saturday a bit, for now, but she keeps her feet under her. Left foot, right foot. One step at a time, just get away from these things. Don't think about Saturday's memories, of screaming and dead bodies and ovipostors and gore. Don't think about Nemesis, clawed hands and purple clouds of nanites and isolating her away from the only people who could ever hope to help her and—

"He was like— like fourty foot tall. And metal, and so strong, and—" Deep breath, she lets out a laugh that might sound forced for how strained it is, but it's genuine. It's real. "But right now I dinnae doubt for a second ye'd kick his giant metal arse."

Edited (typo) 2021-11-02 23:58 (UTC)

"What, a giant robot? Easy. All I gotta do find buttons and start pushing. I got this whole curse with technology, see? I even try t'use it, it breaks."

She adjust Cammie's weight a little, trying to think of anything that isn't chitinous legs skittering over Maggie's face, or fresh rot spreading in Caim's wound.

"Reminds me of this cartoon I used to watch. Had a really stupid theme song. You dig gi-ant ro-bots. I dig gi-ant ro-bots. We dig gi-ant ro-bots. Chicks dig gi-ant ro-bots."

Her voice is dreadful - like someone gargling razors at the bottom of a well.

"We're getting to the trees. Heading north, like the summer folk said. Something called a Heartstone there. Sounds like a nice place. It's gonna be okay."

Cammie MacCloud

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