October Event: Crystal Clear

[lifeaftr_mods]

OCTOBER EVENT: CRYSTAL CLEAR

Who: Everyone!
What: Your exploration takes a turn.
When: October 20th - 26th
Where: The caverns situated underneath Ensō
Warnings: Character death, body horror, descriptions of illness. Please mark any additional warnings as needed!

Part I: Attack, Attack!
Congratulations! You've successfully gone where no Storyteller has gone or can go, and woken up in the network of subterranean caves buried beneath the island's mass, along with your designated supplies: a miner's cap, a week's worth of food, and both your knapsacks and their collective contents. And the further along you go, the vaster and more sprawling these almost labyrinthian tunnels seem to get. There’s certainly evidence that civilization once thrived here - old buildings hewed from the rock of the cave walls may very well contain old tools, or even salvageable supplies. Careful examination of structures and cavern walls alike will reveal sigils resembling those carved on the doors, each of which will need to be destroyed entirely at the Storyteller's behest. Whatever was down here was advanced enough to dwell without sunlight. But that raises a rather pertinent question...

If there were once people here, where did they all go?

Fortunately, one will soon discover that there's plenty of natural light underground, exhibited by the crystalline growths on the walls. None of them appear to be dangerous, and those attracted to shiny things might even find them useful for picking up or chipping away in order to better light their way. The crystal has about the thickness and hardness of quartz, and bathes its surroundings in a luminous green glow.

The closer you come to the center of the mass, however, the denser the crystalline growths seem to become, until one has to be quite ingenious in navigating them. Eventually, they'll simply be too dense to be squeezed through, even by the smallest and most agile of your number.

That’s when they it will start to become apparent.
Something in the crystal is moving.

Huge chunks of crystal are starting to detach from the center and move slowly, inexorably, toward those unfortunate enough to have explored the caverns. Unmistakably humanoid silhouettes, distorted by awful crystalline growths, most of which have completely swallowed any recognizable features.

...most.

The good news is that the creatures can be shattered, and beaten back. The bad news? Well...

Part II: Retreat, Retreat!
Those who get close enough to the crystalized beasts to get a good look at them will soon make a horrifying discovery - the fact that, underneath those thick layers of luminescent quartz, there was once something that might have been recognizable as human. These quartz monsters aren't native to this region, or indeed, to any region of the island at all. They were formed.

Formed out of the very crystal that you explorers have been touching, picking up, sleeping on, and just generally remaining in prolonged contact with ever since you set foot down here.

Indeed, anyone who has been in contact with the crystal for extended periods of time - sleeping on it or getting dealt a swipe from one of the crystalized monsters, for example - will find that tiny, quartz-like growths have started to sprout on their skin as well. Once the virus has taken root, it will spread rapidly until it has swallowed you whole. Indeed, the unpleasant symptoms will reveal themselves within twenty-four hours of the initial exposure: in addition to clusters of crystalline growths pocking the affected areas, the inflicted will begin to experience intense stabbing pains all over as the crystal begins to grow - both inside and out. The transformation is slow and arduous and painful, and vocalization tends to be one of the first things to go once the crystals sprout in the mouth and throat. Within the span of about three days since the initial exposure, the transformation will have sheathed most of the physical body in crystal entirely, sealing the victim in a humanoid cast of glasslike green.

It has not been confirmed if the inflicted are sentient and aware of their state of being once they are completely consumed. Whatever their intentions, those are easily overridden by the virus's innate desire to spread to as many organisms as possible.

As this is an event with a high risk of death, the Storyteller will impose death penalties for one week only. Additionally, deaths succumbed during the event count towards the character's total. There is no known cure to the virus, but that doesn't mean characters can't or shouldn't try!

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] October 20th: Spelunking begins. Points of interest will be provided.
[ ♆ ] October 22nd: The Quartzalcoatl make their presence known.
[ ♆ ] October 24th: The final sigils are broken, and the Storyteller will return all uninfected to the Islets.
[ ♆ ] October 26th: All deceased will be returned at midday, suffering from a reduced death penalty.

Event Specifics

[ ♆ ] If your character perishes in this event, please let us know!
[ ♆ ] For those who opted out, please see the top-level below!
[ ♆ ] Item claims can be found on the OOC plotting post here!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[ratsinadaze]

Oh, you know. Shot at people, killed folks who were just doing their jobs, stole a bunch of shit - usually all of this for the benefit of some rich idiot who wanted to be richer. Also got shot at a lot, but between Rat and a steely determination to not die I made it out fairly unscathed.

[In fairness, she did swear to never die to a bullet and this. This was not a bullet.]

But the answer you're looking for is basically that I did criminal jobs for money to make ends meet. Kinda comes with the territory of being indebted to a triad boss. Like I said, I chose to enjoy what I did. Find the thrill in the kill, so to speak. Regrets, worrying, guilt...that's just. Not my style at all.

[A sharp twinge of pain runs through her chest and her shoulders heave with a silent cough. She waves it off nonchalantly, but she knows it's bad news. It's all bad news. There's no point in repeating it anymore.]

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard laughs, low and quiet. If Gobbet were to listen closely, perhaps she could hear a small undercurrent of pain to the sound.]

Sounds like what I did as a kid.

[When Gobbet coughs Shepard places a hand on her shoulder. She's here. She won't leave.]

I used to run with a gang when I was a teen. Had a whole city block to ourselves and defended it to the death. Expanded it over a couple of years. It was fucked up but it felt like home for a long time.

[Until it didn't.]

How'd you end up in that kind of debt?

[ratsinadaze]

Technically it started when a couple of assholes got us - Izz and me - labeled as terrorists by virtue of existing in our presence. Then we had to get aforementioned triad boss to erase our identities and since that's not easy to do, we owed her big time. Kind of condemned me to a life of crime though. Can't work legit without a System Identification Number.

[Sharp pain is beginning to branch through her chest, reaching through her lungs. She winces, but doesn't acknowledge it further. Images of the crystals piercing her lungs and heart flit through her head. This was such a shitty way to die.]

Turns out, the whole thing was a plot by some ambitious corporate madwoman to bury her mistakes. Her mistakes being plunging a slum into literally unfixable hell and opening a portal for a demon goddess. Hard to bury, but that didn't stop her from trying. At least I got to kill that demon goddess. That was pretty cool.

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard listens quietly as Gobbet goes on, silently noticing the wince but saying nothing, giving a small squeeze to Gobbet's shoulder, where her hand continues to rest.]

A demon goddess, huh?

[That was... not where she was expecting that story to go.]

How did you take her down?

cw: a bit of body horror description

[ratsinadaze]

[Man, it sure was getting harder to breathe.]

[Gobbet keeps her response short, closing her eyes and envisioning the battle. It's hard to forget things like monsters made of teeth and gore. The way they reached out with plague-riddled claws that were basically canine teeth on the tips of skinless fingers. The eyeless faces. The gaping maw of the Queen With a Thousand Teeth.]

A whole lot of bullets.

[There's more to it than that - a lot of trickery and heated negotiation was involved as well. But she doesn't have the breath for that.]

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard lets out a rough laugh at the statement. The sound echoes a bit eerily off the crystal around them and by the time it is done it feels entirely inappropriate for everything happening around them.

Gobbet's breathing is labored and strained. Shepard's other hand clenches out of her sight. There's nothing you can do here, Shepard, but wait.]

I bet that goddess didn't see that coming. Nothing that powerful expects to be taken down through such ordinary means.

[ratsinadaze]

[The laughter, for all it's inappropriateness, comforts Gobbet. Yes, this situation sucked. Yes, she was dying. But if you couldn't laugh as the world went black, what was the point?]

[Speaking of which, she suspects she's nearing her final moments. Gobbet blurts out her thoughts between ragged breaths.]

Hey, I don't do sincerity real well, but I want you to know I appreciate you sticking it out with me. [A rattling cough sends piercing agony through her chest.] Brings it to a grand total of three people who have seen me at my lowest points in life. Real exclusive club, very special.

[She'd chuckle, but. Air is hard right now. There are a few things Gobbet wishes she'd had a chance to do and say in life. Nineteen was a pretty young age to go out at it. But there' no use dwelling on it now. Regret isn't her style. She closes her eyes and pictures Ace's lopsided grin. Gun Show's hard set frown. Is0bel's detached, carefully neutral expression. She'd had a good run.]

Don't linger after I...you know. I don't want to hurt you. I don't doubt you can handle a crystal zombie before it gets too big, but it's better safe than sorry, yeah?

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard manages a small grin, even as she feels tension building in her chest as Gobbet rattles her words out.]

Do I get a special membership card? Or a leather jacket?

[Would the jacket have Gobbet's face on the back? That would be pretty fun.

She's solemn as she listens, knowing that the time is almost soon.]

If that's what you want.

[Shepard knows that she will stick around. After all, there's only one way to make sure whatever it is that Gobbet turns into after this doesn't hurt anyone else. She's used to doing the dirty work.]

[ratsinadaze]

Pfft. I'll have to get back to you on that.

[Not that she has a lot of time to think about it. Gobbet's face twists in pain and she clutches her chest. Yeah. This was getting close to the end of the line. She closes her eyes and tries to think of something witty to say. What does she want her last words to be?]

[A calmness and sense of relief begins to settle over her. Even as she feels her lungs tearing and her heart slowing, the illness refuses to let her panic in the face of death. She wants to, for sure. Her mind is racing with all the things she should have done differently. All the things she didn't get to say and do. God, why did she go back into the tunnels when she could have stayed at the base camp...?]

Hey, Shep? Don't give people the option, anymore. They want to go quickly, whether they realize it or not.

[A rattling cough makes her double over, the worst mistake she could have made. When she looks down again, the peak of a crystal shard is poking through her chest armor. The pain is intense and she wants to scream at the sight, she really does, but there's that rush of relief again. So she just chuckles painfully and lays her head back.]

Fuck it.

[tenthstreetbred]

[Shepard laughs, low this time, the edge of it breaking into the subtlest of shakiness as she watches Gobbet's face twist. She doesn't move her hand, no matter how much she wishes she could do something, anything. She can't stabilize her. No medi-gel to help ease the pain, no morphine to inject. No cure to save her from death at the last second. She doesn't even have a guarantee that what she learned from Newt during her first few weeks here that death here may not be permanent. It's hard to hold onto that hope that the Storyteller could do anything but... well, that's what it's like to believe in a deity, isn't it? To hold onto hope even when things are grim.

She's never been much good at that but she's always tried.]

Roger that.

[What should she say? The last things that Gobbet might ever hear and she's floundering to say something meaningful, something important, something to follow her into the afterlife she only dipped a toe into. She feels a tightness in her own chest, nowhere near as tight as what Gobbet must be going through and in a gruff whisper:]

You did good, kid. You did good.

[At least the next part will be easy. It's the part she knows the best, after all. Killing is what a tool like her does.]