January Event: Setting Fire to the Sky

[lifeaftr_mods]

JANUARY EVENT: SETTING FIRE TO THE SKY

Who: Everyone!
What: The sun dies, and the creatures of the night emerge from the depths
When: January 21st - January 28th
Where: Everywhere! Ensō, Monsun, Chol, and the Islets
Warnings: Character death, possible body horror and violence. Please mark any additional warnings as needed!

So We Can Take the World Back From the Heart-Attacked

The night of the 21st, the sun begins to dim. It dips in the horizon, sinks to nestle itself in the center of Chol like a star falling in slow motion, where it begins to smolder quietly - massive, smoking, and hot, like a massive egg. The night grows colder, the sky reduced to an inky black. The surface of the surrounding water is still but for the occasional ripple, the odd, strangely subdued wave, with not even the hollow lights of distant stars to glint off its reflective waves.

The Jormun gather around the sunken, dying sun with their scaled hands on their weapons, their expressions grim. They fan out across the island of Chol with arms in hand. Their fortifications have settled around the island's center in a dense ball of bristling weapons. They have been preparing for this. They are ready to fight.

Are you? No island is safe. From the well-trodden mainland of Ensō and its islets to the stark dichotomy of Monsun to the craggy shores of Chol, all manner of strange things have begun to haul themselves, dripping, from the watery dark.

No more preparation. No more running.

From here on out, it is fight or die.

One Maniac At a Time, We Will Take It Back

As the Storyteller has promised, there is sanctuary in their temple on Ensō, which will keep out the worst of the creatures. It will not, however, protect characters from the cold and dark, and so they will have to keep themselves warm some other way.

The Jormun fight fiercely, but they do not fight alone. Aside from the help that the willing of your number have offered, you may glimpse the Storyteller battling alongside the rest in a flurry of strange, shifting animal shapes: a heavy-antlered reindeer, a shrieking owl with outstretched talons, a slavering grizzly bear with the Storyteller's signature tome strapped across a broad, furry back, to name but a few. Those creatures that the Storyteller defeats will burst into a flurry of paper and dark, spattering ink, rather than being felled in the conventional manner. How odd.

As this is an event with a high risk of death, the Storyteller will impose death penalties for one week only. However, deaths succumbed during the event will count towards the character's total.

Then I'll Raise You Like a Phoenix

Come the sunrise on the 28th, the sun will launch itself into the air with a victorious shriek, its wings trailing plumes of fire behind it. The phoenix takes flight, reborn from the ashes. The shores of Chol are littered with corpses, both shadowy and scaled, along with an even smattering of crumpled paper and splotched inkstains. Despite the triumph of the fight, it did not come without its costs. The Jormun gather their dead and prepare to mourn them quietly. Those who perished in the fight will not see the sunrise from this unique perspective, watching the murk of the night tint to soft, milky yellow and pink, and then to a glorious new day.

Munin will greet the survivors with a mixture of solemnity and relief, thanking them profusely for their help. There is not much more that her people can offer you, at this point - they must grieve their dead, and she must return to the sea to prove that she has cemented her worth as a leader in the eyes of the other Jormun - but that does not mean that your stories will part forever.

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] January 20th: Monthly Storytelling occurs as usual
[ ♆ ] January 21st: The dark arrives, the temperature drops further, and the first hostile creatures begin their assault
[ ♆ ] January 28th: The dark ends and the sun rises
[ ♆ ] January 30th: Those who perished are revived, suffering from a reduced death penalty

Event Specifics

[ ♆ ] If you have any questions, feel free to look over our OOC Info Post.
[ ♆ ] Feel free to make your own logs if necessary!
[ ♆ ] If your character perishes in this event, please let us know!
[ ♆ ] Item trades with the Jormun can be found on the OOC plotting post here! Even if you were only recently accepted, you are free to participate!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[ungrieved]

He and - my sister, too. They hate me.

[It's said sullenly, but even that can't fully score away the ache of longing pinned beneath, the specter of wistfulness; how badly and completely he wants it, wants them, wants them all to just see him and love him the way Mom does, and even Mom can only love him incompletely. Even Mom can only love him in pieces, in memories, in fragments, in dreams.]

[Even Mom forgets.]

They wanted me gone.

[catpiper]

[She doesn't get it and without that understanding, she doesn't know what to say. Her heart aches knowing his family-they hated him? For no reason she can discern. All except for his mom, who loved him most of all. It would hurt to know that, to feel it, to see it in their eyes when they looked at him. It's sad. Too sad. Painfully sad because it's so different from the happy families she saw in storybooks and framed on the walls of destroyed houses. ]

Why?

[ungrieved]

'Cause Mom loved me. She loved me, and they wanted her to stop. They wanted her to love them instead, and forget all about me.

[As if love is a commodity. As if love is in short supply, and needs to be pieced out like dollar bills, like morsels to the starving. But if she stopped, if she stopped thinking about him, stopped loving him, then he really would be gone.]

[Just like he was, after they made her forget.]

[catpiper]

[Ren doesn't know much about families outside of what she's learned on the fly from watching the elves and listening to people talk about the worlds they left behind, but that doesn't fit what she knows.

And it makes her sad. Because she doesn't know what to say to him or how to make it better. Doesn't get why part of his family wouldn't love him and want his mom to stop. She wants to tuck in the dress around him or cover him with another blanket so he feels extra hidden. Somehow, she doesn't think that's going to help.]

That's sad.

[She's not great at this, my friend.]

Do you want to hold my hand? You can squeeze it really tight.

[Will that help??? Maybe??]

[ungrieved]

[It's quiet, and small, and simple. Just...it's sad. She's right. It's sad, and there's no fixing it, really. The cut, the burn, the break - it was never in her brain or in her blood, but in her soul, and he was still alive once more, surging through her neurons with a triumphant cry, but not for long.]

[Not for long, at all.]

[An offer to hold a hand is about all he can expect a child to put forth. But it's enough, for him, it's more than enough, because it's another reminder.]

[A reminder that he's real.]

[He grabs it and squeezes without further instruction, screwing his eyes shut.]

I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive...

[catpiper]

[The comforts she can offer him are so minimal and small compared to what the numerous others here could. She doesn't have the worlds to make him feel better-doesn't have anything beyond the treasures in her bag and hand she can't even claim is warm with the cold weather surrounding them. It's nothing and yet-

So she's grateful he took it. Happy to feel him squeeze it and tightens her grip in turn. It's okay is what she wants to say, but doesn't want to interrupt the mantra he's telling himself because it could be his way of hiding. She does that too, sometimes.

But if hands and dresses and treasures are all she has, then she'll do the best she can with them.

Using the trick Guzma taught her, she rubs the back of his hand with her thumb, hoping that silent gesture might help. It's okay peanut. Just keep hiding.]