logsinthenight | EVENT LOG: WE ALL STILL DIE (PART TWO)

Entry tags:

EVENT LOG: WE ALL STILL DIE (PART TWO)

characters: everyone.
location: around town.
date/time: june 16-18.
content: spirits are sacrificed, and revelry turns to catastrophe
warnings: gore, violence, psychological horror. please cw tags appropriately.

this tree it will die without leaves

The music fades away as a soft-furred forest spirit with a powerful warble of a voice and the body of a large moth calls everyone to attention. The other spirits usher everyone, with masks on faces and instruments in hands, to gather up at the harbor.

For a spirit, the speaker is eloquent enough - it mimes and dances, peppering movements with melodic speech in the spirits' language, as it demonstrates the rising of the sun that might once have happened here. As it bows, three spirits walk forward and stand side by side. One is only a few feet high, lumpy and pale purplish, wearing a paper crown. The second is black and birdlike, with an elegant floral mask and a pink ribbon tacked to its chest. The third is vaguely human-shaped but for the long, thick hair (?) that cascades from its head and covers its face, and for the long, slender-fingered hands that rest tucked against its chest and sweep downward to its knees. These three are soon joined by spirits with long, scythe-like claws that stand at attention. The warbling moth spirit begins a chant, which the other spirits soon join in, and as the volume reaches a roar of demand and triumph and fervor, the three clawed spirits move quickly and precisely, slicing open the bellies of the three sacrificial volunteers. Their bodies shrink backward and begin to slowly dissipate as if melting, but buckets and bowls are quickly passed forward and much of the gore and meat is collected, and passed one by one through the crowd of spectators, spirit and Beaconite alike - and all are offered a share.

Many of you have eaten spirit flesh before, haven't you? Some have even done so recently. Surely, this is something you all want, isn't it? After a full year here, the spirits have learned so much about their current neighbors who gather around the fire. Some even offer the bowls while shrinking away in what might be fear, while others cackle and chirp and insist on sharing all this fresh food with their friends.

Meanwhile, the changes you may have begun to notice the day before manifest more strongly now. A hunger that won't abate for anything and anyone. A unique manic euphoria, difficult to diminish and hard, if not impossible, to shake that draws one into the music and demands everyone participate in the festivities. Lastly, a violent tenacity to lash out at anything that acts to get in the way of the celebration.

The compulsion starts as a gentle longing and escalates to an incapacitating urge to run without a care through the dark woods, to hunt, to forget all responsibilities. The spirits begin to dance and play their music in unison now, and they march south and east, away from the harbor and toward the village, and it is infectiously fun. In the distance, another band plays an enthralling tune which can just be heard through the miles of forest, and the spirits gather so that they - and you - may join them and bring everyone together to celebrate.

You will come along, won't you? You'll bring all your friends, too. For those who join in, the grandest celebration awaits over the next few days. You are free to pursue your instincts, to lash out, to consume. To dance until your feet are raw and madness overtakes you. To join the parade, and all it entails.

The few that did not partake in any of the festivities at all will find themselves clear of mind. They can do their best to try and keep those under the compulsion from falling to their instincts, though it could provoke violent, miserable results. Once the maddened party joins the parade, trying to pull them out would be incredibly ill-advised. The spirits in the parade and the characters under the influence of its thrall will not tolerate any interruption of the celebration. The parade will chase them down, slice them open, tear their flesh from their limbs. This is a party for light and life! Anyone not with the parade is against it. Death surely will suit them better instead.

ooc notes:

SPIRIT INTERACTIONS: As mentioned previously, anyone who posts top-levels under the SPIRITS header means you are open to spirits doing a bit of threadjacking. We will not be consistently maintaining long threads with spirits, but they will be able to come and go from threads between characters. Please bear in mind that serious injury or death is a potential result of these interactions and so posting a toplevel to this header means you accept this risk.

POTENTIAL DEATH: This event couldn't have come at a better time, as the death mechanic has thankfully been restored. If your character dies in this event, please report it here! And remember, as it was just restored, there might be a few quirks to the system...

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Attempting resistance: June 16

This isn't right.

It hits him abruptly as one song finishes, in the beat before the next one starts. A moment of abrupt clarity - his eyes widen and he stops in his tracks.

Where is he?

On the edge of town. There's the graveyard - he sees the gate and headstones out of the corner of his eye. Spirits hop along the fence, laughing, and then they all start up with their instruments again, a chaotic frenzy of melodies that eventually coalesce into some unknown tune.

Whatever brought this clarity, he can't stand out too obviously - that seems like a risk. Instead he keeps his head and watches - and at an opportune moment he grabs the arm of whoever is nearest and tugs them aside behind a dense patch of brush. With a snap of his fingers, the noise of the party cuts out abruptly, and he searches the face of whoever he's got.

"What's happening?"

One of them: June 17-18

Resistance didn't last long. Blood pounds in his ears as the music dominates all sense. Never has he felt so alive! Funny that it should take dying to realize that this is what he should have been doing all along. Why try so hard to save doomed people in a doomed, far-off world? He would much rather enjoy what he has here and now. Long limbs flail madly to the music, and he's covered in dirt and bits of trees from periodically falling, but he just doesn't care. Someone bumps into him and he laughs, takes them by the arm and goes to spin them in the dance. It's fun!

Maybe you try to pull away, though. His fingers tighten and he actually growls as he jerks you closer, suddenly staring you down, copper eyes just visible through the holes in his mask. "Where are you going?" he demands, the deep baritone of his voice rumbling in his chest at the question.

Or maybe you're off trying to hide and mistakenly move, revealing the light from your lantern for one horrible second. His dance partner is forgotten as he fixates on the movement like something predatory, then quickly stalks in your direction. He's awfully fast with those long legs, and you quickly realize - he makes no footsteps. When he shoves aside a branch, you don't even hear the snap. Will you continue to run, or will you fight back?

Wildcard

Have an idea? Throw 'em at me, or message me on plurk at

tinylongwing. As indicated here, Rosi will initially try to resist, but he's too involved and fails to break free - and he's not very happy about anyone who's not enjoying themselves.

EUPHORIA.

( she'd avoided the worst of the celebrating. Carmilla isn't really a celebrator. still, the mask making had been something to do. it made her think, rather wistfully, of a time she used to do such frivolous things, as make a pretty mask to swing around for hours at some luxurious ball. she ignored the burn at the edge of her subconscious, a deep set hunger in the pit of her stomach, and went back to haunting the Landmark as she usually did.

problem being, as much as she tried to ignore the festivities... somehow they start to creep up on her. a song floats through her head, enough that even someone as sour as she is finds herself humming it. the clawing at her gut gets worse, though the lilting lightness that spreads over her is more compelling.

Carmilla so rarely has opportunity to be happy. some part of her knows it is foreign, and yet she leans into it anyway. she ties the silly mask she made and heads toward the music. it might be at the landmark bar, or perhaps the nightclub. truthfully, it could be anywhere, even a place without music. she'll dance anyway. not feverishly, but distantly, lazily. playfully.

and when she spots someone she knows, or even someone she doesn't, she reaches out with both hands to draw them closer. ) Mmm, c'mon. You should dance with me. ( what can it hurt? she's probably just a little toasted, don't worry about it, just dance. )

HUNGER.

( it would have been better if she could have just clung to the euphoria.

instead, the hunger starts to spike. it's never a good thing for a vampire to be excessively hungry. Carmilla is a good 300+ now, she hasn't lost control to her hunger in awhile. safe to say, whatever is coursing through her now is stronger than years of carefully manufactured self control.

it drags her, kicking and screaming, out of the playful dancing and coquettish flirting. now she feels nothing but the hunger eating its way through her. and while there is rampant spirit consumption going on, her preferred snack doesn't fight its way back up after a few days.

some unfortunate soul gets too close, and she grapples to their arm with a painful vice. the mask is a little crooked on her pale face. )

I'm so hungry, ( she whispers, grip tightening. there's some battle inside of her, though it's quite distant and impossible to track through the mostly covered expression. still, maybe there's some other snack that can distract her? )

VIOLENCE.

( the euphoria passes, and so does the hunger. the stain of blood on her might indicate why. and from there, she's lost. whether she wants it or not, she is one with the dance. with the music. with the parade.

trying to stop her is quite ill advised. she's a great deal stronger than she looks, and insistent on stumbling toward the dance. still, if someone tries, she doesn't immediately lash out. ) Come with me, ( she invites instead, a catlike smile pulling across her face as she tries to drag her unfortunate company along with her. ) We could dance forever.

WILDCARD.
( none of these work? have a different idea? wildcard me, or chat with me via pm or

meowed for a personalized starter! )

[Ardyn falls quickly to the madness. The hunger and the violent urges are all too intense and most of the man is lost to the Starscourge.

Throughout the forest and the town he hunts, not as the Chancellor but as a vast, dark, limitless hunger.

Shadows swirl around him and only the vaguest outline of a human figure remains. He leaps from tree to tree, building to building, searching for prey that can he devour, whose essence he can add to his own power. Or maybe he can create more daemons...

All he knows is he's a disease and like any disease he needs to spread.]

((ooc: Ardyn plotting post))

WELL I'M LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT SIDE NOW, TRYING TO FIGURE OUT SOMEHOW

[ the sacrifice is something unexpected, and ordinarily elektra might take it as a cue to stop celebrating and leave, especially when the corpses are divided up and offered around to those who have been participating. having already experienced the unfortunate side effects of consuming spirit flesh, she waves off the spirit and turns to the person beside her, oddly blasé over what they've just witnessed. ]

Well, that was gratuitous. Let's get back to the party, hm?

[ it's bizarre even if you don't know her well, and even stranger if you do, because while elektra's sense of humor skews towards sardonic and she doesn't hesitate to use violence when necessary, she doesn't exactly take joy in the slaughter of innocents, even spirits. she'll take the wrist of whoever's nearby, trying to pull them back to the dance floor, an oddly manic grin curving her lips. ]

JESUS CHRIST YOU'RE SO DAMN COLD, DON'T YOU KNOW YOU'VE LOST CONTROL?

[ even without partaking in the offered spirit meat, elektra's finding herself eager to keep participating in the celebrations long past the point where she should have tired and gone home to rest. blisters have long since started forming on her feet, beginning to ooze blood from wounds that aren't given a chance to heal, and dirt and strands of tangled hair stick to her face with sweat. her mask hangs askew, dark eyes glaring intensely at those who try to leave. ]

What are you doing? Get back.

[ attempts at getting her to leave will be met with violence, shoves and slaps that eventually escalate to punches, kicks, and clawing as she's met with more resistance. blood eventually marks her skin; whether it's her own or someone else's is difficult to determine.

at some points in the night she seems to snap out of it, going completely still and looking around at fear. the moments never last long and get fewer and father between, but she appears lucid enough to try to sneak to the edges at those times, panic edging into her expression and physicality even as she continues to try to blend in.

it's probably best to catch her in one of those moments, if you're trying to get her to stop. ]

FORGET ABOUT THE THINGS YOU THINK I KNOW

[ if you'd like to do something outside of what i've outlined, would like your own starter, or have your own idea, i can be reached on plurk at vdova, or you can post your own thing and i'll roll with it. elektra will not be seriously harming anyone unless i get permission and i'm not looking to have her kill anyone outside of spirits. her plotting comment is here; she's going to attempt resisting as she starts to realize what's happening but eventually succumb as she was forcefed spirits while kidnapped. ]

Edited 2020-06-22 21:22 (UTC)

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SPIRITS

Rosinante | OTA

no subject

Ardyn Izunia | OTA

elektra natchios | OTA