030-035 » a-hunting they will go

[villagemod]

WHO: Everyone.
WHERE: Eastern/Central Mathias.
WHEN: Days 030-035
WHAT: Unexpected changes come to Mathias, followed by a Hunt.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. PM this account to have a warning added!
NOTES: Plotting post over here! And shiny new CR meme too.

RECOMMENDED ♫ Marco Beltrami "It Hears You"

DAYS 030-032
A CHANGE IN CIRCUMSTANCES
The day after the earthquake dawns like any other in Mathias Township. The sky is a light winter grey, clouds obscuring even a hint of true sunlight, and snow falls off and on in dustings that rest atop the piles left from the storm a few days past. The air is bitterly cold, a gentle wind feeling like ice in the sub-freezing temperatures, and residents should be grateful that the earthquake didn't do more damage than just breaking a few household objects.

It seems like business as usual. It will not be until the second day that residents will begin to notice the difference.

The General Store's shelves have not been restocked. Items in kitchens have not replenished in the passing night. Food from the previous day has aged as normal, and as the days continue to pass, things will begin to grow stale or become moldy as they would in the outside world. Two days pass, three, four... Still, the food does not return.

Perhaps rationing should be considered.



NEW ARRIVALS
The newest arrivals to Mathias will wake on the snowy beach near the Grey Gull restaurant. They should probably hurry inside and get warmed up before hypothermia sets in or something finds them out in the cold...

---

DAYS 033-034
IN THE NIGHT, IN THE DARK
These days, too, seem to be simply more of the same. The days are cold and grey, the food does not replenish, and they continue to be trapped in this eerie town. But when night falls, the story changes.

An hour after sunset, it begins. Scratching sounds at walls, like something searching for a way inside. The ominous feeling of something out there in the darkness, moving through the town, stalking through the night. The inability to find any sign of something being there at all. It's enough to make anyone feel like they're going mad. To happen just one night, it could be a fluke, a trick of the mind as so many things here seem to be. But to happen a second night, with more intensity... There is something there, or they are going mad.

It's hard to know which to hope for.

DAY 035
THE HUNT
This day is not like the others. There is something in the air, a dreadful anticipation that rises inside them all as the hours pass. Every moment that brings them closer to nightfall brings it closer too — if only they knew what it was.

An hour after sunset, the Hunt begins.

Those who are outside at this time are gripped by such terror that they can do nothing but run and be chased. They are prey and the predators that stalk them with steadfast determination are creatures never meant to be seen by mortal eyes. All lights outside go out, from streetlamps to flashlights, and the world descends into deeper darkness, only the clouded moonlight and curtained glow from illuminated houses lighting their way as they flee.

Those who are inside at this time are trapped in their safe havens. No doors or windows can be opened from within, nothing can be broken or forced, and they can do nothing but wait and listen while their friends and neighbors are pursued by creatures whose very presence they can feel in their bones and whose growls echo in the night, entwined with the screams of their victims.

In the thick darkness, these creatures appear little more than shadows, large and looming, deadly and unknown, but in rare glimpses in scattered pieces of light, the Hunted are met with a sight they cannot comprehend and will never be able to properly describe or fully remember, for these creatures cannot be fathomed within the limits of the human mind.

The Hunt lasts for one hour exactly and then the creatures vanish into the darkness, leaving only fear and death in their wake.


ABOUT THE HUNT
— Players may choose to have their resident be one of the Hunted or a Witness to the Hunt. None are exempt from the the Hunt and all will be affected by it in some way.

— Those who are hunted must flee the creatures or they will die. The Hunted may move throughout the town at any speed, for the creatures may choose to move both quickly or slowly, but the creatures will always inevitably find them. The only escape is to seek shelter — the creatures will not enter a building where living people are, but they will follow the Hunted into buildings where there are no other living people.

— Those who are trapped within buildings at the start of the Hunt are unable to open doors and windows from within, but the Hunted may open them from outside in order to take shelter in these safe havens.

— Those who are hunted are unable to fight back against the creatures until the moments just before their death. This is due the creatures only having physical form in these final moments, rendering any attacks against them useless, whether they be physical, magical, or psychic in nature. Attempts may be made in those moments before death, but by then it is too late — the prey has been caught.

— When one of the Hunted is caught, there is no escaping, there is only screaming in madness as death falls painfully upon them. No one can come to their aid and their body will be found afterward, the bloody remains ripped and torn apart by something that cannot be identified. Large sprays and pools of blood stain the area around the corpse, turning the snow sickening shade of crimson that darkens as the hours pass.

— After the creatures have vanished, there are no signs of them to be found in the snow. There are no tracks or marks of any kind save for the carnage of the fresh kill.

— Those who have been sacrificed to the Hunt will revive two days later on Day 037. The conditions in which they revive will be detailed later, but there will be only minor lasting physical damage from the Hunt.

— The Hunted will lose 5 points of sanity. Those Witnesses who find the corpses will lose 2 points of sanity, or 3 points if they are not unaccustomed to this type of sight. Others who are merely Witnesses to the sounds of Hunt may choose to lose 1 point of sanity as a result of the experience.

---

CONDITIONS UPDATE

— THE WEATHER is fairly typical of a northern winter. The sky is almost always grey, the temperature is below freezing during the day (and colder at night), and a light snow falls intermittently. The sun sets early in the evening. Residents should bundle up when going outside and not venture too far into the dark night...

— THE FOG remains blocking the paths in the forest beginning a few dozen yards past the treeline, urging residents to stay huddled within the town proper, and it also now blocks the northern section of town, beginning just past Hill Lane, before where residents know the chasm in the earth to be between Hill and Stine Road. Venturing into the fog is ill-advised.

— DISAPPEARANCES continue. Sherlock Holmes is still missing, and Phil Coulson, John Constantine, Zed Martin, and Helen Magnus have vanished as well.

---

OOC NOTES

— FOOD will be restocked in some fashion in the next full log, don't worry. We aren't going full survival mode yet.

— DAY 036 The next log will cover Day 36 only and will include the locations of deaths and any corpse burials that occur the night of Day 35 or are planned for Day 36. (There will be prompts included for both the "living" and the "dead" in this single day log.) Please submit all information by Wednesday, Feb 17.

— MOD STATUS It's mostly just Amy steering this ship for now, so things will probably be pretty slow for a while. Apologies in advance, and please don't feel shy about pinging me if you're stuck waiting for something.

navigation | faq | setting | mod contact

Comments

[liliowy]

She was surprised by the generosity of sharing - most would fall into the impulse of resource guarding when facing the reality of starvation. Hunger is a dull, lingering sort of ache, after all. Persistent and heavy.

Were she simply watching this from the sidelines, she would can this altruism stupid. But instead here she is, with dirt under her nails, hoping to grow some simple fucking tomatoes.

Sleeves of her sweater are pushed up along her forearms, of similar mind as him as she beckons him over, lifting a jar of seeds, tipping it over to show the faded label promising something edible. “Some are. Some will be chance.”

Sure, by normal means, sprouting anything in winter is a fruitless task. But with magic, it should be so much simpler, which becomes evident in her intentions when she pushes the carafe towards her, holds her palm open above it and says a low word is elder.

“There's more soil in that bag," a nod in its direction. "Help me with the pots? I'll do the rest."

[thering]

"Of course." He'll take a chance at something over nothing at all - unless it would cost too much on her part. He might not know magic but he understands simple truths in life. Nothing ever comes for free.

"This would take a toll on you, I expect," he breaches the subject carefully, bringing the bag of soil over closer before lining up a few empty pots in front of himself and scooping some soil into each one. He can't be sure if she overdid anything last time but being shot with an arrow and standing her ground despite impossible odds seems like overdoing to him. Patting down the soil gently so he can top up some more, he glances over at her.

"I do not wish to have to explain to Miss Ellie how I mistreated you today," he jokes, in lieu of telling her to maybe take it easy. Yennefer... has not been an easy person to tell what to do, thus far.

[liliowy]

"It is my price to pay," a soft exhale, feeling the cold run through her hands. It is her choice, and she will leave very little room for argument, else their back and forth continue for hours. She is yet to test the imposed limits on her magic to their full potential, but it is never without a cost. That has not and will not ever change.

The chaos around her felt less obedient now. It had never been, not truly, but more slippery in this wayward town, sparks of which felt harder to hold onto for longer. It burned brighter or duller as it would pass through her, on its own accord. This would not stop her, if only out of spite alone. Most spells could simply be done slower.

This would be a fitting test.

She watches him pat down the soil, before she places three seeds into a pot with a feathered touch, and pours the water to dampen the dry earth. Her brow arches. "Oh, don't worry your pretty little head, Henry. It'll be our secret." Despite how entertaining Ellie's wrath would be.

Yennefer's fingers sink deeper into the dirt as she directs her chaos inwards. Another word softly spoken, searching for the telltale life lying in dormancy in the little seeds. Repeated, after a moment, more forcefully and after a few bated beats, with her hands running so cold her veins turn dark, it sprouts. Bright vines that curl around her wrist and past as she withdraws her hand. The green almost seems unnatural in the bleakness around them.

Her triumphant smile is quelled in exchange of the white-knuckled grip on the counter, of how dangerously the world tilts from her view and she has to close her eyes, has to curl forward with a hiss.

She searches blindly for the next pot, jaw set. She has to do another one.

[thering]

He didn't notice he was holding his breath until he redirected his attention to her after the plant practically burst into life. He almost forgets his hands are covered in dirt but he catches himself before he can touch her.

"Whoa, hey, ma'am." He places his hand between hers and the pot she is closest to as a sort of compromise, moving the pot further away to stop her from proceeding further. It may well be her price to pay. But he would not stand idly by while she potentially causes inexplicable harm to herself.

"I would insist. No potato plant or whatever comes of this is worth you falling ill," he stresses. He doesn't know the first thing about treating ailments from magical origins and they are unlikely to have the necessary supplies to fix her anyway.

[liliowy]

“What fucking use is it if I can barely grow a single one?” She snaps, looking up at him. There’s a spark of something in her eyes, something that is so close to fear it may as well wear the name, wide and bright. For an annoying moment, she sees two of him. “One miserable plant.”

It wasn’t creating life, not as much as it was bringing about what already had it, but it came so synonymously close anyway. Another fucking reminder, like a slap to the face.

At the very least, her anger isn’t directed at him, as she turns away from their array. Steps away, has to leverage herself against his arm before moving past to lean on something else.

She really ought to pour the water into the rest of the seeded pots. It would still be enough for them to sprout, if not at quickly, but looking away is all she can do to stop herself from breaking them instead, that fickle anger flaring. Because it's always been the mask for everything else - for fear, for weakness, for disappointment.

"They teach us how to bottle this magic, direct and use it to our whims but never for a second consider the dependency it creates when it's gone," is spat out, vicious, a culmination of all the little signs she's noticed so far, spilling over for Doc to stand on as unfortunate witness. "And why should we consider it at all? It's all we're fucking good for. Conduits of chaos until we burn out."

No running to Aretuza for answers, assuming Yennefer would ever stoop so slow. Even still, for a dangerous, quiet little moment, she wishes Tissaia was here, all the same.

ARE YOU READY FOR THE FEELS

[thering]

He might not be a magician, but he can sympathise. He understands how demoralising this seeming incompetence can be. This acute loss of not only those monumental tasks that were conquered before, but all those little things that had been so easily achieved and taken for granted. He also understands addictions. These highs that they chase and use for self-gratification and self-affirmation, these crutches they rely on when they are filled with insecurities and self-loathing.

"Magicians with no magic. Gunslingers with no guns. Lawmen with no law. This place makes fools and paupers of us all." That they have all gone through this rite of passage may do little to pacify her and dull the sharp edges of her rage. But it would not be the first time he has tried to get people to realise they are more than what they are capable of. What they define themselves in one word - Sorceress, Gunslinger, Agent, Medium, Hunter, Vampire, Lover, Assassin, Survivor - discounts everything else they are and disregards everything else they could be.

"You cannot choose if, when, how, or why people will remember you one day - whether you are immortalised as the greatest magician that has ever lived or the quickest draw in the West. But you are not a victim of the whims of men and women who would wage war over petty jealousy and greed, nor a victim of Mathias, nor enslaved to your magical prowess. You are certainly not a bottle. You are Yennefer. Your life is more than what will become your crowning glory, and what you are good for will most definitely be more than the sum of what sprouts from 'one miserable plant'. When I asked you if you would consider moving in with Miss Ellie, I did not ask motherhood of you. But some things are more important than magic."

:')

[liliowy]

She has to look away, hair obscuring her face else the frustration spill over from her eyes. “A legacy,” a scoff, her voice a hollow echo in the greenhouse. What else can she say to that? "You're talking about a legacy."

For a moment, there's an instinctive bristling at the precise aim of his words (sharpshooter indeed), and she has never likened herself to being easy to read and yet here he is, pulling out truths as if he was there. She takes a slow breath, before looking back.

Yennefer of Vengerberg is not an open book. So how the fuck does he see her as one in this very moment.

She knows, equally, that she is not alone in this complete violation, this perverse leash on her powers. That many must feel the same. But that doesn't make it any less lonely.

"Magic made me," she says simply, seems to mean so literally. "I'm sure you can relate." There can be so much more to be said. That she took what was owed to her and more and that now, there was nothing else left to take. But when he mentions motherhood, that tumultuous thorn, she stiffens.

“You would have been asking something impossible of me, had that been the case,” she supplies coolly. He's right and fuck, he must know he is, too: there are far more important things than magic, and she isn’t sure she’ll know any single one of them, not from the life she'd lead.

So she simply steels herself.

[thering]

"And selfishness made me." It would be easy to blame it on magic. It wouldn't even be wrong to say it was magic. He bought into a lie and made it work. But ultimately a great many important decisions in his life had come out of selfishness. And he is self-aware and honest enough to say it. She would not know him even if he was to speak at length about legacy. He does not have to be the anything of the West around her, except for the man he thinks he might like to aspire to be.

"Some would argue that that is impossible," he gestures at the plant she made sprout. "This is a place where impossible things happen." Ellie seems to like her. And while Ellie's opinion shouldn't mean as much as it does to the sorceress or the cowboy, it remains important that Yennefer can return to Ellie in one piece rather than bring harm upon herself for attempting to produce an artichoke.

"Sometimes, these things just have to take their time." It's not so clear whether he is talking about growing something edible from seeds or motherhood. Maybe it is applicable to both. "A resource that you and I, incidentally, have in awful abundance."

[liliowy]

Selfishness, arguably, made her too. Selfishness, and the fucking hunger for the world to give to her that which she is owed: power and maybe they are the same thing. Except, in the end, it's not enough and it never had been.

They are more and more alike the longer she listens, despite the worlds separating them. More shared in common than age alone and it is no small relief to not need to play the social game in their conversations. Not that Mathias had necessitated courtly prowess.

"Really? To me this looks like where the impossible is humbled, Henry," she looks to the pot with lacking enthusiasm, following his gesture and finally returning to it. Busies herself by getting the carafe.

"But we do have time, yes," she finally agrees, watching the water soak through the soil, stomach still turning. "More than most." Her hand itches to give it another try, but stubbornness alone will do her little good at this moment.

[thering]

Her understanding of what is impossible is in waters he has never treaded in. His bar is much lower. A stove that cooks with magnets, a metal box that can chill and even freeze things placed within it, instanteous voice communication halfway across the planet with one flat device the size of a can of beans that can also take photographs and order things that will arrive the following day and tell you anything you could possibly ever want to know about everything in the universe, a wagon with an engine that can harness the power of three hundred horses, a goddamned ship that can take you right up to the stars - these are impossible. He isn't sure what else she could possibly be expecting.

"If you are expecting a man who can turn melted snow into wine or walk on water you will be waiting a long time. You have to find satisfaction and excitement in the small things if you are to be content with anything," he muses. Not that he is chiding her but being difficult to please is to her own detriment, too.

"Let's give these a few weeks and see what comes of them," he suggests, starting to pot up a few more seeds.

[liliowy]

The modernity of this place was still something to get used to - though predictably, it frustrated her more than amazed her. Inconveniences of learning, and fast as she may be in acquainting herself with the advantages out of necessity, it didn't soothe her irritation any. It's an accomplishment that their phone didn't find itself broken.

Henry seems to be referring to something specific with that analogy - though who or what is lost on her, a passively blank look that only sharpens the more he speaks.

"I have, for a while," she has nothing to prove here, and yet it comes out a shade defensive. "After seven decades, you learn that life has little else left to give. How you've kept your - satisfactions through your years is a mystery to me." She doesn't mean to be so negative, but it is difficult to shed your disillusions. Especially for someone as stubborn as her.

Still, it seems to pull the fight out of her, if by a fraction. The simplicity of planting is irritatingly soothing. "Something must," she nods after a moment, watering the pots as he finishes planting the seeds.

[thering]

"A lot can change in seven decades. A lot can change in seven minutes. A sunrise still looks magnificent even if you have seen twenty thousand of them before." And in Doc's case, he appreciates how much has changed over the past thirteen decades. He was not around to witness the innovations, the wonders, the way time has passed him by.

"I was incarcerated for a long time. I'm afraid I don't have many answers for you. All of this is still new to me." He continues patting down some soil over the seeds, not too tightly as he passes the pots on to her.

"Shall we leave these in the greenhouse or should we take these home? Would it be too cold?"