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

[voktys]

⟪ Curiosity had driven her –– Rastus is unlike any being she has encountered, and by R'hllor, there had been many, most far more fearsome than he. It's a wreath of herbs she leaves him, unsure of what else he would want until she sees a vision.

It's... sympathy, then. To die cold is a dreadful thing, and truly, she can't make much sense of the vision beside this simple fact. He seems a creature given to the flames, much like she is –– so how terrifying can this be?

Oh, mind, she is terribly unsure of this, but she seeks him out by the fire anyway, for one not keeping her utmost distance, offering him a blanket, this time. It's summer, of course, he won't need it now, but –– ⟫

I saw. ⟪ An incline of her head, towards the offering. ⟫ I hope you will never have to feel the cold like this again.

[cawdad]

Mraw?

[He takes the blanket after a long moment of studying it carefully. Oh, it's soft. He thumbs at the fabric.]

I felt nothing. I remember nothing. I slept and then I woke up here. It was not as bad as some.

[He glances over the blanket again.]

Is this payment? Do you want something? I can get things. I am Rastus.

[voktys]

⟪ The idea of falling asleep and then never rising again is, truth be told, just as terrifying to her as some of the worst of what she has watched –– and more so than some others. ⟫

I am called Melisandre. ⟪ The habit of regular introductions still has not ingrained itself, Westerosi found something to call her, or heard her name from someone else. ⟫ And there is nothing I want.

⟪ That isn't true, there are many things she wants, but he won't be able to take the burden of dreams from her. ⟫ It is meant as a... a gift, if you will have it.