wildestlogs | INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

Entry tags:

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

"Nooo..." Stacia's voice comes out in a thin moan. She stirs as Saturday loosens the net one arm half-pinned awkwardly beneath her. "Stop it. Stop it. Stop it!"

Her eyes snap open as soon as the net is pulled away, filled with a wild fury, and her mind echoes with screams: those she's heard with her ears, those she's heard inside her head, and those she's only ever had nightmares about.

Kill them. Kill them all, kill them kill them--

She snarls and tries to shove herself upright, only to immediately topple over again due to the awkward angle. Her eyes widen as her Rage clears enough for her to see what's coming.

"Behind you!"

Edited (html) 2021-11-02 05:49 (UTC)

"Hoi!"

The sword-bitch swings. Saturday parries from the ground, grunting. Stacia can see the blow jar her.

"Get the edge - " she tells Stacia, shoving the slender side of the net at her with one foot, and then scythe-bitch is on her and she can't think about anything but the next blow, not even Stacia's safety. She pirouettes away, blade flashing, and the masked women giggle as they pursue.

Stacia's about to protest that she doesn't know how to fight with a net, but Saturday is too busy fighting for her life to listen. She tries to grasp the net anyway, to help; but it feels filmy and sharp and cold, like a spider web woven from ice and razor blazes. Silver shouldn't feel like this, especially not in her breed form, this is some kind of magical bullshit. She shakes her hands loose and staggers to her feet, lurching after Saturday and the masked women. Her feet steady under her and she shifts back to Crinos, slashing claws at the flowing clothes of the women to distract them and slow them down so that Saturday can catch her breath.

They do not like that, no indeed.

Their masks - change - like a flip-book going from one picture to another, serene smiles becoming angry frowns. They pause, and Saturday scrambles to Stacia's side, setting her back against the werewolf's.

"Motherfucker I can't believe I miss the fucking Rig right now!"

The frowning women's laughter continues, but becomes darker, more mocking, less delighted. They drift closer, twining around each other in dizzying, distracting patterns, and then the claw shoots out.

Stacia would tell Saturday to bite her tongue, but she doesn't have the attention to spare to force comprehensible English through her muzzle. She flexes her claws and trusts that Saturday has her back so that she can focus on the women as they pass in front of her rather than trying to keep an eye on them all the way around.

She's ready when the claw weapon shoots out, batting it aside like she would a hand meant for her throat so that it buries itself in the ground. With a snarl, she seizes the attached chain and gives it a sharp yank, hoping to throw the woman off-balance.

Meanwhile, her twin darts forward, aiming for Saturday.

Saturday doesn't have a lot of respect for dual wielders in the normal scheme of things. Sure, it looks fancy and it's pretty effective if you're good at it, but most people don't have the time or the talent to get that good. Usually, dual wielding means you're facing an idiot, amateur, or both.

Usually. Usually doesn't account for fucky noh-faced psycho bitches who won't stop laughing.

Saturday has to hope that Stacia has her back, because the creepy doll lady's blade are flashing almost faster than Saturday can see. And she's got a real bad feeling that the woman is holding back - for what purpose, Saturday can't imagine. Other than the sheer glee of it -

Saturday's shoulders are aching. Her rhythm falters. The woman slides her pommel in and flips Elder Brother right out of Saturday's hands. She watches in a kind of slow, detached horror as it flies through the air and lands point down in the earth, twanging like a plucked string.

Saturday hasn't been disarmed since she was 12 years old.

The woman takes up a formal, inviting stance. Her black-pit eyes slit and angle as if she's smiling. Laughing. Mocking Saturday.

Well, all right then. Fuck smart. And fuck safe.

Saturday throws herself at the woman, screaming wildly, and headbutts her.

It's a good thing Saturday screams when she decides that headbutting a spooky monster lady is the correct answer, because it notifies Stacia that some Ahroun-y shenanigans are going down.

(Why are so many of the people she cares about like this. Why.)

She lets go of the chain she's been playing tug-of-war with and turns around to grab Saturday before her twin can recover from that stunning blow and haul her off to their "mistress". Then she lurches sideways into an awkward roll, because she doesn't want to have the twin with the clawed gauntlet at her back either.

Saturday's head hits the moon-white mask with bone-jarring crack, and Saturday has, briefly, the satisfaction of the bitch's black-pit eyes widening in a refined expression of surprise.

Then shards of ice rip into her brain, radiating out to her eyes. She screams, falling - then caught, the familiar shape and fur - friend it's okay friend - pulled away as she moans and writhes in pain. There's a vise clamping down on her temples and she can't see anything through the blooms of unnatural color in her eyes.

"Fuck, bad idea - "

Well yeah it's a bad idea! That mask probably doubles as armor!

Stacia keeps her grumbling in High Tongue since Saturday certainly won't be focusing enough to translate any garbled English, and continues scrabbling away on three legs. The fourth is the arm that's holding Saturday close while she recovers. Why had she even gone for the headbutt anyway, doesn't she have--

Oh, she doesn't have her sword. And now the Sisters Spooky are between Saturday's sword and Stacia and Saturday. Whoops.

"Where's m'sword - " Saturday has just realized the same thing. She attempts to throw herself out of Stacia's grip.

"No! Give it back - !"

One of the women is examining Elder Brother where he stands, fixed in the ground. Her expressionless face tilts to one side, then the other. She reaches slowly for the hilt. Saturday shrieks like a wounded animal.

"That ain't yours, bitch!"

But before the woman's hand can close around it, it vanishes. Saturday feels a sudden weight in her arm and flexes. The hilt drops down into her palm, familiar as a friend's hand.

Both of the sisters are staring at them, now.

"Stacia? We should run."

Stacia wonders if Saturday's sword can usually do that and she just didn't know because of whatever was making a mess of their powers on the Rig. But that's a question for later. Saturday's got her sword back and the creepy sisters are looking at them, Saturday's right, it's time to move.

Stacia turns and races away, still cradling Saturday in one arm as she zigs and zags to make them a more difficult target to track (being a large wolfmonster aside).

Saturday's sword does not usually do that, but she's also kind of used to it pulling powers of its ass when necessary. So her surprise at its behavior falls by the wayside quickly, replaced by an intense focus on not falling off. Hopefully grabbing someone's pelt and holding on for dear life isn't a violation of werewolf etiquette.

The world spins and tilts around Saturday in a way that has nothing to do with Stacia's gait. She really hopes she hasn't broken something important in her brain - she's been concussed before, according her pops, but she's never felt it, not like this. She was an adept, even all the years she didn't really know it. Her magic was always ready to fill in the gap, dulling pain, augmenting fogged senses and slowed reflexes.

But not this time. Saturday hurts, in a way she hasn't since her arm got shot off. Her stomach roils.

"Staz - 'm gonna puke - "

Holding on tight is fine; and it would be forgivable even if it weren't because Saturday wouldn't know. Puking on her, on the other hand...

Stacia refrains from yeeting Saturday into the bushes, but she does readjust her grip; trying to turn Saturday so that any puke coming out of her mouth will hopefully fall behind them instead of on either of them. She also stops zig-zagging so much, the people chasing them don't have guns so they should be fine to run straight into the trees until they have enough cover to slow down or stop.

It isn't like Saturday wants to puke on Stacia. That's why she let her know! So she could help get her aimed! And just in time, too, because no sooner does Saturday process that Stacia isn't directly in front of her than her vagus nerve assumes direct control.

The traditional sounds, sights, and smells occur. The turkey legs were a lot more fun going in.

But when she's done, she's able to squint fuzzily into the distance.

"Whzza... they're. Gone?"

Ew, vomit. That's not a fun smell when you have a human nose, much less something more like what a wolf has.

Stacia risks a glance over her shoulder when Saturday mutters something about the lack of pursuit. When she doesn't see anyone behind them, she looks up toward the sky, in case the women are planning on attacking them from a different angle.

Nothing there. Only Saturday's groans break the silence. Well, that and the distance screaming.

Saturday's never thrown up before. She does not find the experience enlightening.

"...glck...'m okay... think it's over. Why is the grass so spinny?"

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

INTO THE WOODS ※ GAME EVENT

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!

Re: III Nabbed!