logs | MOD EVENT #001

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MOD EVENT #001

A CHAOTIC RESPITE

It isn't rare for the seasons in the Netherworld to be a little erratic, though many days have passed now without much of a hint of its typical mercuriality, a good and a bad omen all at once. This respite is commonly referred to as the proverbial "calm before the storm", but it also marks the beginning of merrier celebrations. The Moons above are gilded silver, the twilight sky edged with faint pink and orange -- a sunrise phantasm, spilling over the horizon. It's an infrequent spectacle, accompanied by a dulcet breeze and light drizzles that seem to encourage growth nearly everywhere. Unfortunately, under its influence, people seem a little on edge, quick to anger, but no matter; around Stygia, Restless have begun hanging decorations and ornaments on trees and windowsills, left to catch the moonlight and give off marigold and ginger glows, warmly lighting up the city. Rather than fish, the smell of freshly ground spices permeates the air in the Harbors, Mirth keeps its doors opened to all, but just before the festivities officially begin, a cacophony of chimes resounds all over, a transmission difficult to ignore.

On the screen of your cellphone, nothing; only a voice, ragged, out of breath...

“The woods... Oakwoods! They've come alive! O-One minute he was complaining about the water seeping into his boots, and the next he was... he was being yanked up into the trees! We didn’t see what happened to him, but we heard... the screams, ohh, the screams. Please! Come to Serene, I beg you. This is our safest sanctuary, and the lan... oh, no... wait, no, please... please... NOOO--”

...and the feed abruptly ends, a dull chirr of static. Will you ignore the stranger's call for help and feast, or venture into the woods?

► I. KNOCK ON WOOD (OH PUCK, HE'S HOT!)

When you cross the gates of Serene, an old woman welcomes you, palm flat against her chest and disquiet in her eyes. Myrtille, her name. Oakwoods loom dense and dark in the distance behind her, groaning low as leaves rustle without wind. The Mourning Lantern was stolen, and malevolence rose in turn, dooming them all.

“It was once kept here, a sacred Artifact crafted from the bones of Serene's first founder, who gave her heart’s blood willingly to the woods in an act of contrition. It's the absence of the lantern that is contributing to the wood’s unusually active malice, and if you lot cannot retrieve it, then we must sacrifice another. Go! Take these torches and go, before Oakwoods swallow us whole.”

So you've decided to be brave. Commendable, or foolish? The wood is dark and shrouded in mist, and the trees crowd around you, an absent wind somehow whispering foul nothings in your ear as dead leaves rustle around your feet. Your Shadow basks in the murmurs, sensing the malign presence in Oakwoods as a faint, garbled scream echoes in the distance. You wander deeper and the canopy thickens, thin streaks of moonlight peppering the woods in deep patches of darkness. Behind you, a creature you can't see hisses, and a fluttering of wings nearby alerts you to the arrival of snickering harpies lurking on branches. “Dead,” they croak, in a sing-song chorus. “Dead as daylight.” Oddly enough, they seem content to just watch and stalk you, perhaps expecting you to die quickly, an easy and effortless meal.

It's a frustrating errand if you've ever known one. You barely know what you're looking for, and your Shadow thrives in the dark, taunting, coaxing. You hear it then; a haunting melody, the silhouette of a boy on a fallen tree trunk, strumming. “Come,” he says, with a voice that shimmers like the sun on moving water. If you remember what that's like. “Rest a while. Forget your troubles.” For anyone familiar, you'll recognize him as a Puck, famous prankster, and from his hand dangles a lantern.

► If you attempt to take the lantern from him, he'll immediately drop it to the ground, causing it to break. You may choose to kill him and offer his blood to the woods, or let him go and bleed in his stead. Myrtille should be able to repair what's left of the lantern once the offering's been made.
► If you politely ask to return it, he promises that he will... if you indulge him for the night.

No matter what you choose, you will come across camps, either on your way in or on your way back: pitched tents, most moth-eaten, and some containing vestiges of prior expeditions such as putrid corpses or rotten food. You've been wandering for a while, and sleep sounds terribly inviting. Unfortunately, a wind finally picks up, and leaves begin to blow around you. A nick, then a cut, then a slash reveal the leaves to have razor sharp edges. Sleep well yet? If you've spared the Puck, he'll encourage you to sit with him around a campfire, where he'll sing and tell stories. Or are they. Perhaps you've heard of Bloody Mary before. Slenderman? The Devil that'll make you dance until you die? While the lantern remains in stranger hands, the thread between reality and fiction narrows; protagonists from the Puck's legends come to life, and the only way to rid of them is by quenching the flames of the fire.

Your journey unfortunately doesn't end there. The Puck has a riddle for you: I am a word that is hardly there. Remove my start, and I'm an herbal flair. What am I?

If you fail to answer correctly, he'll vanish before you, and you can bid the lantern goodbye. You'll be forced to gather the bones from the corpses scattered across the woods, and feed it your blood -- or a friend's -- before you escape and return to the woman. The offering will leave you drained and exhausted, weak on your legs. If, on the other hand, you do answer correctly, the lantern is yours, and you'll be teleported out of the woods with a boon in your pocket: a piece of parchment invites you to visit your home in the Shadowlands. There, you'll find an object (or a pet) that belonged to you in your world.

the answer to the riddle is sparsely! it's up to you whether you'd like your character to fail.
legends told around the campfire can be any of the ones mentioned above or any other that might strike your fancy! go wild, have fun!
remember that if you pick an item from your character's world as their boon, it'll eventually disintegrate unless reforged with a soul.

► II. GO BIG OR GOURD HOME

Welcome to the Frightful Harvest, a festival that marks the beginning of the Respite, a temporary period of tranquility between seasons. It acknowledges the blessings offered and the role that both good and evil play in the Netherworld. It is a time to give thanks, but more importantly, it is a time of reflection and warding. Warding against not only the darkness of the next seasons to come, but of the nefarious creatures and struggles that will undoubtedly follow.

Carved pumpkins and straw bales are placed everywhere around the city, and streamers and banners are hung from every home and storefront. Decadent cakes, candies, and pastries are made in over-abundance in order to accommodate everyone, and from the lush gardens of Radiance, an elderly, dark-robed man addresses the Netherwork. You'll learn by eavesdropping on nearby Restless that his name is Doran, the oldest among you and loved by all. His smile stretches kind, and while not an official member of the Hierarchy, it's clear he has certain privileges -- well-deserved, or so you hear.

“Let us gather, feast, dance and celebrate. Let us hold our glasses high for those who heroically perished, for goodness, and for the Ascended. May their journey inspire us to change our lives and the lives of others, to resist evil, and to triumph. To you, dear friends!”

And without further ado, let the festivities begin!

► BARDIC BLITZ
The bardic blitz is a friendly competition that pits talented musicians against one another in an attempt to win over the affection of the crowd through festive melodies or personal compositions. Although it can be hosted just about anywhere, the bardic blitz is normally held in a large canvas tent directly in the heart of Mirth, though smaller crowds also gather in Serene and the Harbors around bonfires.

► FEAST
Although all cultures around Stygia bring their own tastes and specific flair to the celebrations, there are a few staple trade goods that you can find at nearly any celebration of the holiday throughout the city. Many producing the various cakes, beverages, and cookies also use the time to test and perfect their recipes, teaching others or using them as guinea pigs.

► Firstdawn Tea: This revitalizing crimson tea soothes the mind and body and is brewed from the roots of the dawn flower, which only sprouts during the Respite.
► Grablenuts: These fist-sized brown nuts have a hard, stippled outer shell and soft, delicious spicy centers. A single bite will slightly lower your inhibitions, and you may find yourself seeking proximity and warmth.
► Elysium: A nonalcoholic beverage that smells and looks as bad as it tastes. Only those with the strongest will manage to gulp it down. Once drunk, the person experiences true bliss, which seems to last for hours; in reality, it's only a few minutes.
► Will-o-the-Whiskey: Whisky with minor hallucinatory effects, visual and auditory.
► Sundrop: A pound cake coated in a sugary lemon drizzle. No side-effects, just delicious!
► Shadowfell Candy: Chewing on this candy will grant the character a deep and rejuvenating sleep, during which they will appear dead to anyone.

. ► HARVEST HUNT
The harvest hunt happens in a corn maze located in Mirth's amusement park, specifically created for the occasion. Because of the labyrinthian horrors dwelling in the Tempest, some find the terror-free replica a little inappropriate, yet participants still abound every time. A favorite seasonal game of the exuberant and athletic, characters take on the role of either hunter or prey, racing through the maze to either corner their quarry or escape the hands of their pursuer. As long as Shadows behave, it's a relatively safe activity. Friendly spars sometimes occur, picnics, and star-gazing.

► THE PARADE
The parade is the activity most looked forward to by younger Restless. Citizens clad in colorful costumes walk the streets to the rhythm of festive music, and according to tradition, it helps ward away any lingering evil that might try to hide in the community. For reasons unknown, incidents where Restless unwillingly swap bodies sometimes occur.

► III. WAYWARD SUN

The Warding Ritual is a private affair, a behind-the-scene execution on the last day of the festival as you dance and feast and frolic, blissfully unaware. Something goes awry. First, a shriek in the distance, and soon, birds flying away in apparent surprise as the landscape rustles with the sounds of creatures and Restless alike fleeing. A vague sense of dread knocks the air out of your lungs, an iron grip around your throat. And you see it then, a headless figure shrouded in a black veil of cloth, sword in one hand and a bright flaming pumpkin in the other. Its head. It thunders through the night on its skeletal horse, its blade flashing in the moonlight in search of prey. Heads fall. You might get injured during the chase -- collateral damage. 10 members of the Hierarchy won't ever rise again, and the rider eventually charges into the Tempest, leaving behind bloody puddles and a slather of confusion. If you opt to help clean up the mess, you might come across stained sheets of paper on the ground, a painting of a white scorpion in the middle. Otherwise, it's time for you to go home.

ooc note

► Welcome to Nightfell's first event! If you'd like additional, more casual prompts, the Notice Board is right here! New prompts will be added next month, if you've already had your fun with them!
► You'll find some answered questions here, but if you'd like to ask something else, please comment below!
► For a little spooky ambience in the woods.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ In the time since he spilled forth from the purse of this realm, Set has not moved fast into anything. Despite his general attitude of irritability, he spends his time in contemplation and research, rather than running amok like a directionless fool. Without access to many of the avenues available to Stygian citizens who have thrived for longer in this realm, he seeks to better himself and his social standing in due time. There is the sense that he must play a patient game, rather than a reckless one - and while Thoth was far more masterful than he at senet, he was not inept at the game.

In terms of activities that he's been involved in for CR handwaving: Set lives on the roof of a three-story building in Mirth, which caters to a massage business and their private gambling den. He can be found partaking in the illicit materials there, especially excessive drink. Outside of his terrible coping skills, he does most work that the people of Mirth ask him to do - deliveries, fetch quests and other menial tasks; he has also taken to exploring the Barrens, and spends time in Serene's library, combing through tomes for... what? What could he be looking for?

As the moons begin to silver, and ire begins to fill the people of Stygia, he becomes quieter in his anger, given more to somber, cold glowering and terse hisses. Rather than passionate fights, he excuses himself quickly from roughening situations, and may have stepped on a few toes out of spite. ]

⇀ THE OAKWOODS »

[ As the trouble in the Oakwoods reaches the inhabitants of Stygia, even he's decided that something must be done. He leaves his den in Mirth for the misted thickets of trees, clad in dark shendyt, a handful of glossy, metal rings and bands around his limbs and little else. Does this guy just not believe in clothes?

Anyways.

THE MOURNING LANTERN. In the Oakwoods, Set focuses on guiding and defending other Restless who are on the hunt for the lantern, simply in need of a strong companion to ensure they don't give in to their Shadow's wicked tongue, or fall to the dangers of the forest. He will not be seeking the Lantern himself. Screw that Puck fellow.

There is a personal task that he takes on, however. ]

FINAL RITES. [ -- the sound of the pleading soul who had originally requested their aid replays from the cellphone clutched tightly in Set's hand, the light softly illuminating a heap of decaying bodies, broken equipment and rancid food. He stands there, looking down upon the deceased ones, expression solemn and difficult to place ( -- is it pity? is it anger? is it perhaps disgust? ).

When he speaks, his voice is quiet: ] Was it you, who called for our help? I'm sorry, if it was. We didn't make it.

[ The bodies at his feet don't answer, of course.

Eventually, he stoops to the battered, rotting bodies and -- lays hand upon them, untucking them from tangled blankets and tent flaps, drawing them one by one into his arms, before carrying them to the side and laying them out side by side by side. It's disgusting work, performed in abject silence. Whomever comes across him will find him in the midst of his task, tossing aside everyday items in favor of retrieving bodies, their parts, and any items that seem highly personal for them. He keeps them all together, until his arms and chest are slick with gore and decay.

It's the kind of care someone takes with those they are truly indebted to, no matter the form they have taken. At times, a black miasma surrounds his wrist, creeping up his arm towards his eyes -- veins standing out black and stark against his pale skin, his expression creasing and breathing catching. Nothing more than that, though... HM. ]

⇀ THE FESTIVAL »

[ After the lantern debacle, Set staggers out of the Oakwoods feeling GROSS and DEFILED and VERY UPSET, now that he's no longer delivering final rites to the bodies of those lost to the forest. At least he cleans up, prior to leaving his den in Mirth to join the other Restless at the Frightful Harvest and begins to return to his "old self", which involves sneering heckling and teasing, bickering boldly with anyone who so much as puts up a fight, and eventually, abandoning the crowd when the difficulty in connecting with them becomes too immense.

All the same, he's hauling musically-inclined Restless joyously towards the Bardic Blitz, and being coaxed into partaking in the various Feast goodies despite his great reluctance, and coming to gleefully give chase and be chased in the corn maze. Hunt or be hunted, he'll put up a helluva' fight and one insane chase! ]

⇀ THE BLACK HORSEMAN »

[ The moment the headless figure lunges into view, Set is in motion - a graceful lunge, the flash of dark claws and pale limbs, and he can be seen briefly locking himself into bare-handed combat with the attacking entity.

The two are wild, when they twine together; he rips actual claws into the mount at times, sparks fly as he parries the blade, flowing through combat and motion as though he were made for it. His own blood spills freely, especially as he moves to defend Hierarchy members and fellow Restless alike. Seamlessly, he trades the battle over to others when he must, pivoting to find items to utilize as improvised weapons, joining his fellow Restless in combat when possible, until eventually -- the battle comes to an end.

The Horseman rushes into the mists, and Set heaves a hiss, sliding to his knees by one of the decapitated members of the Hierarchy. His expression grim, and he works to catch his breath before he continues on.

Unlike with the explorers in the woods - as he lays hand upon the slain individuals, the miasma that flows from the dark mark upon his wrist utterly seizes him in its throes -- the whole of his eyes darkens into a void, his voice strangles on a furious scream that morphs far too quickly into a muted wail of guilt. The miasm envelops him, but for a brief moment and fades away in patches, leaving him holding fast to the hand of the slain member.

This will happen, ten times. As he reaches each dead individual, whispering something into their ears in that foreign tongue of his. ]

Do you see their heads?

[ Finally, he asks a question of anyone present. Voice rasping and blown out from the screaming. ]

They need their heads. That thing -- if it took them...

⇀ OOC »

( My event plotting post is here. You may also reach out to me on Discord at PAX#8074 if you'd like prompt replies! I recommend giving Set's content warnings a look over, as well as let me know what your boundaries are by replying to the comment! For anyone interested, I also asked a question about what manner of death the explorers experienced, and there were some curious results to be found by all... :9 I'm also down for wildcards!!

[ Neither Jonas nor YJH will have an easy time, in Set's body. While vibrant with power and grace, there is a strong sense of a man who is living life in a constant state of anxiety -- his 'fight or flight' response is permanently stuck on 'fight or freeze', living under his skin like a constant, all-encompassing tremble. Depending on their degree of perception, this anxiousness and lingering pain has been strongly muffled, muted under a haze of booze and illicit drug that may be wearing off by the time either of them exchange places with the redhead.

His body is pristine, though; despite the ghostly agonies that plague it, there are no scars or old bruises to suggest a source of pain, or a reason for it. He simply exists in this shivering state of being, and it speaks to the reason he lashes out quickly, or retreats just as swiftly from situations. They'll also find he has claws that he can extend, pushing through his nailbeds like cat claws! And big teeth! Thankfully for them, because the game has nerfed everyone, they won't be slapped too strongly with any existential dread -- because this body is ancient, unknowable, and connected far to intimately to a greater sense of being than most humans might be able to fathom.

Actually Jonas and YJH might be some of the only two who handle that fathomless sense of existing-as-an-archetype-not-a-being well!! ]

JONAS »

[ Set finds himself diminished so far as to be driven mad by it.

The clothing upon him is familiar only by visual inspection, as he fingers the hem of Jonas's shirt and Jonas's warm hat, as he strokes his hands through the young man's short hair and thinks please, no in the same moment he also thinks is this what it is to be human? They are so small, so simply made and imperfect, but he does not feel the vibrato of terror behind his ribs, fluttering in his chest and cramping its way into his toes. Jonas's body is as heavy as it is light, with fingers he flexes and finds long and nimble; legs that are strong, but not enough so for his desires. He cannot leap, nor lift beyond human means. But, he can breathe.

There is a fluttering, lingering sense of worry in his belly -- perhaps the remnants of what Jonas had been feeling just prior to their swap. Behind him, someone clicks their tongue and urges him forth: Jonas Ward? Honey, it's your turn. Get on stage, will you? ]

I, [ Set says, with Jonas Ward's mouth. Immediately, his jaw snaps shut - his voice is foreign to his own ears, it throws him for a loop. It doesn't sound like his own voice, it doesn't even sound like Jonas's voice, because he is in Jonas's body and nothing sounds the way he knows it ought to. ] I think something happened. I have to go.

[ Nonsense, I know stage fright when I see it. The coordinator urges, pressing their hands into the small of Set-Jonas's back, pressing him forward in a way that Set cannot lock his knees to and dig his heels in. All threat and bluster fails him, as he's pressed towards the stage, clutching at the stringed instrument that must be the ukelele Jonas had mentioned to him -- oh, he doesn't know how to play this at all! He's going to humiliate himself ( and Jonas! ) on stage! ]

No, you don't understand! I'm not Jonas --

[ He's thrust forward, onto the stage, without any further ado. Staggering to a halt, Set-Jonas freezes before the crowd. It's just a small one, it's not the one in Mirth's central tent, but there are watchful eyes and festive attitudes, and he is going to ruin this for Jonas. The way he ruins things for everyone. ]

YOO JOONGHYUK »

[ -- the third time it happens ( Jonas being the first, D being the second -- ), the body he ends up in is unrecognizable. Set utilizes the man's cellphone to review what his face looks like, dark hair and dark eyes, a broad chest and long legs -- he's not bad looking, but the crease between his brows is so deep as to suggest that resting bitch face is the natural state of this guy's being. This body is... this man is--! ]

-- who the hell is this guy. [ He scowls, disgusted with the fact that the third time he's traded forms is with a complete stranger.

The phone suggests his name is 'Yoo Joonghyuk', that his closest ties must be the gentleman known as Kim Dokja and the woman called 'Han Sooyoung'. At least, Set sighs, he knows those two names; they had both taken the initiative to contact him on the application to question his divinity. He'll reach out to them in turn, if he cannot quickly locate his original form. In the crowd, he's able to tower above heads ( nice! ), putting a hand to his brow to shield his eyes before he begins to scour the space around for signs of his own hair, the flash of his own skin.

It doesn't feel terrible, being in Yoo Joonghyuk's body. He can't place why, but it doesn't pain him as much as Jonas's human form -- it feels sturdier of make, fragile of soul. A little like him, were he to settle down long enough to consider it. ]

-- Yoo Joonghyuk! [ He bellows, bold as you like. LET'S FIX THIS ALREADY FFS ] WHERE ARE YOU, I HAVE YOUR BODY.

Edited 2022-10-10 17:41 (UTC)

(so this is what possessing another feels like. finally, finally being the one to bloom into an empty shell doesn't hurt. jonas may be crushed under the weight of set's anxieties and made aware of how the god's muscle memory reacts to all of the infiltrations he's until now withstood, but he's familiar with it: trying to swim in a rip current; trying not to forget his father's name; trying not to drown.

it doesn't even occur to him that he's wandered into a throng of people until the curve of his bare shoulder brushes into the mass of sick, writing human bodies. they clap enthusiastically over nothing, celebrate nothing, and jonas in set's divine form would rather hear his own harsh breaths than them.

they ignore him for the boy onstage.)

No, (he whispers, dragging his hands down the sides of his head, fingers tangling in pooling red hair until they're closed around long strands in impossibly tight fists.) No... No, not again, I'm... I'm...

(panic swells and almost suffocates him despite the lungs in his chest that feed him too much air; jonas finds he can't even feel fright like he normally would, processed so differently by the ancient vessel for the essence of war that the easiest fallback is to become angry, wildly angry, and lash out. it's an accident, of course, when a civilian in the crowd is shoved aside so viciously that they fall immediately to the ground. there's no control in jonas' output, barely coherent.)

Get down here, you piece of— (from set's chest rises the hoarse, loud, compelling demand.) You... You can't do this!

(two men notice the aggression and fight to secure jonas by his arms. "calm down, it's just a competition!" one yells. another grunts with effort, "they haven't even announced the winner yet!" a third and fourth rush in, but their strength is incomparable.

they manage to contain him, but not for long.)

Edited 2022-10-10 18:24 (UTC)

yea there it is.....

redsoil - 2022-10-11 17:10 (UTC) - Expand

i'm crying forever over this

coherer - 2022-10-11 17:49 (UTC) - Expand

SET | ENNEAD | OTA

⇀ THE OAKWOODS »

⇀ THE FESTIVAL »

⇀ THE BLACK HORSEMAN »

⇀ OOC »

CLOSED | BODY SWAPPIN'.

JONAS »

YOO JOONGHYUK »

cw: allusions to sexual assault

no subject

FESTIVAL | let's just say a blanket cw for eating disorder in this whole thread.....

no subject

final rites

no subject

drops a bodyswap at your feet to lessen your load

no subject

horseman!

no subject

festival u_u make snek sing

he will if he learns snek CAN sing...

horseman;

sakura my love...

festival

IT'S HIM THE MAN IN THE WALLS

festival insanity

festival

EDDIE | HARVEST HUNT.