EVENT LOG: GRAVES

[inthenightmods]

EVENT LOG:
GRAVES

characters: everyone.
location: Bonfire Square.
date/time: July 12-19.
content: mysterious shrines appear and bring visions of death.
warnings: likely violence and potentially gore.

time to pay your respects.

It happens when no one is looking, when most of the town is asleep and the rest are inside. A makeshift cemetery has come to Beacon, taking up residence in the middle of Bonfire Square. Each monument, shrine, and altar is dedicated to someone who now resides here, a memorial of their previous life.

Some may be drawn by curiosity, others by fear, and some may simply have to pass through this strange graveyard to get to the Bonfire itself. Whenever a person gets near, the altars beckon with a mysterious urge— an urge to approach, and an urge to leave something behind. They will feel compelled to make offerings at the various shrines, but doing so has a curious effect; it causes one to experience the death of the person whose grave they've honored.

Whether you resist the compulsion or give in willingly (or something in between), you'll also have to wrestle with the fact that a grave exists for you. Will you let your death be known, or try your best to keep it secret? Destroying it sure won't work, as it will return— with a duplicate somewhere else in town.

However you choose to deal with this, one thing is hard to ignore— this a tangible reminder of your death, and the fact that it's probably permanent.

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Comments

[fogey]

[ five just sits there for a moment, considers mk. and then when he opens his mouth to speak, it's soft, though steady. ]

There used to be people everywhere, [ he says. ] Like I said, billions of 'em. I used to live in a city that held millions alone. There were good and bad parts, obviously. Some people barely scraped by, and others went through money like water. [ hargreeves, for instance. ] But people could live their lives in some peace, relatively. Held down jobs, fell in love, had families. Raised kids, pets. You ever see a dog? Man's best friend, they called them.

[ he doesn't have to ask what kind of things mk wants to know. he remembers all the stories he told himself, the ones that sometimes didn't even feel true anymore, like the old world was a dream he'd had. ]

You could buy food, clothes, whatever, from stores. Didn't need to grow or scavenge or sew everything for yourself. If you were sick, you could go to a doctor, be taken care of. Buildings full of books that were free to borrow. Schools to learn history, math, reading, science, you name it. There were restaurants whose whole purpose was to serve people whatever food they wanted. Places people could go for no better reason than to have fun. Cars to take you places; ships and airplanes to go further distances. If you had the money and the ability, you could go just about anywhere in the world if you wanted to.

[darkeyed]

<sub>[Kingdoms aren't built on dreams. He'd said that to Eli once, to make sure the boy understood the future would be written in blood and sacrifice, not indulgent hopes. But the past... Maybe there's still room for dreams in the past.

Dreams end, dreams die, but they're lovely while they last, aren't they?]</sub>

And there were a lot of cities?

<sub>[There's not much left that can stir feeling in the ashes that are his life, but he's rapt as Five paints a picture of a way of life people from his time can only speculate about. One could be tempted to mistake M.K. for a good listener if they were to see him now.

How often? How often had they found some rusted vestige of the way things could've been if the world had been kinder to itself and wished someone could explain it? It'd only taken death to make it possible.]</sub>

Cities that ran themselves without barons. And the buildings--there were tall ones, like in the pictures? Made out of glass. _{[The word comes back to him.]} Skyscrapers?

_{[Harold Jenkins' house had been in suburbia. All squat homes, no towers like what captured the imagination on the postcards. Still, one troubled man's home seen through the distracted eyes of an ex-assassin with bigger problems to tend to had held more unique riches in one place than M.K.'s seen in most of his life.]}