lifeaftr | January Aftermath: What Would It Take

January Aftermath: What Would It Take

JANUARY AFTERMATH: WHAT WOULD IT TAKE

Who: Everyone!
What: The sun is reborn; time to recover
When: January 28th and beyond
Where: Everywhere! Ensō, Monsun, Chol, and the Islets
Warnings: Please mark any additional warnings as needed!

Quiet Like The Snow

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. Though not all the shadowy beings have gone from the world, the reappearance of the sun is enough to make them slink off into the shadows- a fight for another day...or another evening.

Now, it's time for the hardest part. Now, it’s time to clean up.

Chol

The grounds of Chol have reshaped seemingly overnight- as the morning light filters down across the land, characters will find most of the land has been blackened and charred, with many fires still raging inland. The Jormun will assist anyone who hasn’t yet to the western coast of the island; where not nearly as much of the phoenix’s impact has been felt, and a safe corridor of passage to the mana pool resides.

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.

Ensō and Monsun

Ensō too, has seen its far share of battle. The full scale of just how much the Storyteller had kept at bay around the temple is revealed through the copious piles of shadowed corpses, several wane Jormun already at work on removing them. They assure anyone who seeks to assist that below the ocean, there is effective manners of disposal; such as large, active volcanoes to demolish the flesh before any untoward magics can give them new life.

Heat will slowly begin to return to the island, with slow coming to a halt and ice beginning to thaw. Whilst rugging up is still a requirement, characters will be capable of making their way back to the mostly unscathed islets to rebuild their own lives, or wherever else they may call home.

A notable change to Ensō, however, is as easy to find as looking up. Literally. Several floating land masses can now be seen high above the island itself- too far for anything distinguishable to be made out and too far for those capable of flight to reach. Those who watch these masses may be interested in how, over the course of a day, these strange masses seem to change shape entirely- almost as if they were simply a very unique cloud coverage that seemed ready to become a permanent fixture overhead.

Much like Ensō, Monsun sees little wear, past the additions of many felled creatures. Again, a party of Jormun are slowly navigating their way about the island-- though if they get to the corpses before Monsun’s native meat eaters do is anyone’s guess. In the stillness of the coming days, the usual monster attacks will seemingly dwindle to nothing-- even a god of Balance seems to understand the need for recuperation.

Additionally....
Though the Storyteller is once again nowhere to be found, exhausted adventurers will find three MREs in their packs, for anyone who could use a day off finding and preparing food. Currently, it's the best they can offer- though the Jormun promise that they will have their own spread to share after finishing collecting their dead.

Event Specifics

[ ♆ ] The 30th will see the return of any who may have died throughout the duration of the event. All revived characters will awaken at the Storyteller’s temple; remember, if your character has died, let us know here!

[ ♆ ] Item trades with the Jormun can be found on the OOC plotting post here! The number of Jormun available will dwindle through the following weeks, leaving entirely on the 10th of February. Even if you were only recently accepted, you are free to participate!

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

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i. Chol; they won't even recognize your corpse

[Gobbet has been picking over the dead bodies for half a day now. Her job, as per the Jormuns' request, was to gather and separate the corpses - shadows in one pile, Jormun next to them, islanders next to those. She walks with her spear, shoulders tensed with the fear that more of the beasts may be lurking. Even after the sun's return, they lingered. Though her wounds have since stopped bleeding, they haven't stopped aching. Some cuts were deep, some bruises to the bone.]

[To keep herself busy, she whistles idly as she drags corpses around. She's notably more ginger and respectful with the Jormun corpses than the shadows. Give her a hand?]

ii. Enso; splinters and stained glass

[There are few places left to relax on the island. Everyone is busy with something - corpse hauling, cleaning up the aftermath in other ways, returning to daily chores, fighting leftover beasties...So Gobbet takes to the Storyteller's temple, which is much less busy than it was just a day before, for her first midday nap in a week. She's been busy as hell and did her fair share of fighting. Maybe more than her fair share of fighting. She deserves this nap.]

[So she finds a nice hard to reach ledge, out of the way of nosy passerby, warmed by the new sun. She stares up at the new floating islands in the sky absently, watching them as though they were just passing clouds. For all she knows, they could be. Nothing is forever on these islands. Maybe not even her.]

[Whether or not that's lucky, Gobbet doesn't know.]

[Lost in thought about the past week's events, she doesn't even notice that someone has found her little hideaway.]

iii. Islets; so what's a nice place like this, doin' 'round people like us?

[Her home is eerily still when she returns to it the day after the sun's rising.]

[Maybe it's years of experience with close calls. Maybe it's that curse Tim supposedly put on her by virtue of existing in her presence. Maybe it's the last remnants of the cold. Whatever it is, a deep chill is in her bones and she doesn't want to open that door. She knows that if she does, something will be waiting for her.]

[Sometimes it sucks to be right.]

[Perhaps you've come along just in time to see her dragging the thoroughly stabbed corpse of the Wendel in her ceiling out into the morning sun? She's got a nasty gash on each arm, if you're the type to worry about the wounded.]

iv. Anywhere; i love the sound of shells hittin' the ground, man

[Wildcard! Hit me up here, on discord, or at

Azazelbunny to plot something out, or just throw me a random prompt~!]

[ Some time passes before Gobbet is joined by a new, but familiar, face. The Knight, whiteboard and marker comically strapped to their back, climbs up to her hideaway with little effort. It seems as if they've decided to take a break from hauling bodies.

They put the board and marker down on the ground, and then flop down themselves. Soaking up the sunlight, staring up at the sky.

At the very least, the person who's found her can be guaranteed not to break the peaceful silence here. ]

[When Gobbet does notice her company, she smiles a little. The whiteboard had been among her most recent round of requests from the Storyteller; a little thank you for saving her hide back on Chol. Now the little bug could "speak" a little more freely - not just with her, but with anyone they chose to interact with.]

[Curled up on her chest are her two pet rats, Echo and Trinity. They're enjoying both the sunlight and the company of their owner after having been cooped up in a knapsack for the past week. She wonders idly if it's through interpreting the rats' actions as humanoid that she understands the silent nods and gestures of the Knight.]

[Gobbet fixes her eyes on one of the floating islands and takes a deep breath. She's not a fan of heights, but she knows she's got to get up there sooner or later. Adventure calls. Her head tilts to the side as she regards the Knight quietly.]

What do you think is up there?

[ They tilt their head a bit, focusing on the islands. They've never been one for imagining unknown dangers. Really, it could be anything. They've never seen a floating island, after all, or been on one.

But Gobbet seems to expect a little more than that, so they focus a bit.

After a long moment, they sit up and squeak away at the whiteboard busily with their marker. Little doodles of flying bugs (?) fill up a corner. Some with jaws, some with swords, some with spiky shells or rounded mouths full of teeth; it appears the knight is drawing from their memories.

Maybe flying things

Maybe people

Will find out when there

Adventure calls. They have no real feelings about heights, but they know there will be something there, sooner or later. ]

[Gobbet squints at the drawings, trying to imagine what those things must be like in person. She's never seen an insect spirit up close, so even though she wants to make that comparison, her mind can't form a clear picture.]

[The Knight is quite the artist, though.]

[She returns her attention skyward, nodding in agreement.]

Here's hoping there's a mana pool up there. It'll be a bitch getting up and down otherwise.

[ The Knight, in lieu of responding normally, scrubs the whiteboard with their cloak to clear it and draws...

Themselves being launched upwards. Or maybe launching themselves upwards? The spiky little squiggles behind them seem to indicate some kind of propulsion.

for others maybe

i am durable : )

But the Knight doesn't seem to take their own suggestion too seriously. Gobbet may get the impression that if the little bug had a conventional face, they would be smiling. Maybe giggling, if they were equipped with a voice.

Gobbet's previous assessment of them is half-right; they're capable enough. But they are a child, still, for all their fierceness. So they'd qualify, perhaps, as an exceptionally violent younger sibling. ]

Heh, high jumper, eh?

[The Knight earns a rare genuine smile.]

[Gobbet puts her hands behind her head. The sun feels good after being so cold for so long. Island life is usually so busy - whether it be chores for survival sake or beating back encroaching hoards of shadow monsters, it's always something. And next, it seems, is floating island exploration. They can only guess at what's up there in the clouds. She kind of hopes it's not more people. Food is short as is, and her garden got totally decimated by the cold and dark. She only managed to grow two potatoes and a handful of small carrots.]

[Her eyes close. She's fast on her way to falling asleep, honestly.]

[ The Knight traces a smile across their face in response, tilting their head at Gobbet. They're pleased to have gotten such a nice expression from her.

For their part, they don't disturb Gobbet's rest; they lean against the ledge she's lying on, think about everything they've done so far. They let such idle thoughts guide their errant marker.

When they really look down again, and focus, they realise they've been doodling someone familiar to them.

...They just stare at the drawing for a while. They never felt a sense of true loss about destroying their imprisoned sibling; they had reunited, after all. But here, the tragedy of it is more keen.

They make another attempt at scribbling some other figure, but they cover it with angry slashes of their marker soon enough. Father, king, wyrm, coward. They owe him nothing. They'd hate to think that he'd interpret their actions as such.

They're so absorbed in their drawing that if Gobbet were to look over their shoulder during all this, they wouldn't notice at all. ]

[Gobbet does notice the Knight's doodling, if only because of the quiet squeaking of marker on whiteboard. Curiosity eventually drives her to take a peek and what she sees is surprising to her. It reminds her of the shadow monsters they've been facing - spindly and wrong, a mockery of something sane. She's about to open her mouth and ask if that's how they see themselves (she hopes not) or something similar when the Knight begins a new doodle.]

[This one is more pleasant, she thinks. It's clearly some sort of royalty, with that spiked crown and long cloak. It looks a bit like a grown up version of the Knight to her. Perhaps they, too, are royalty?]

[If so, they don't seem very happy about it. The slashes send a very clear message.]

["Fuck that guy."]

[Whoever he is, he's not a friend.]

[Once again she opens her mouth to comment, but thinks better of it. The silence is heavier with unasked questions, but not uncomfortable enough to make her talk anyway. It strikes her that there are so many things she doesn't know about this little bug, including their name. Maybe that's a good place to start, rather than digging into the figures and their meanings. She feels like she wasn't meant to see those. But she can lay back and pretend she wasn't looking and ask an unrelated question. So she does.]

You know, I never got your name. I'm Gobbet, for the record.

[ They're not used to being observed; they're usually the one observing others. But they wouldn't mind, had they noticed Gobbet's interest.

They rub the whiteboard clean, having filled it up, and in the middle of doing that Gobbet asks her question - a familiar one, by now.

nice to meet you : )

i have no name . anything is fine .

What's in a name? A declaration to the world around you that this is who you are. Little one, ghost, vessel, friend. All of those things are who they are, and more. They don't think any name would ever be big enough. ]

No name, huh? Let's see...

[Well, there's the sword. That's a prominent feature. And the fact that they're either a bug or otherwise related to insects (but far too cute to be a toxic insect spirit - which she's pretty sure don't exist here). They're little, which is why she's referred to them as "Little Buddy" in her head all this time.]

[And they might be royalty? Unsure.]

[Gobbet is quiet for a few minutes as she takes these points and tries to connect them in some meaningful way. In the end, she only finds purchase with "sword" and "royalty".]

If you had a street name...How about Knight? You've got the sword and the vibe of a protective person. Probably still gonna call you "little buddy" but it's a start.

[ They nod, vigorously. It seems like they're incredibly pleased to have such a title.

Their marker squeaks away, almost a subconscious act. They're drawing that spindly creature again, the one Gobbet had thought creepy - but this time, it looks different. More like the regal-looking figure they'd slashed out before.

From the way their head droops a little as they turn back to look at their work, it seems like whatever thoughts they're holding in that little head of theirs, they're not particularly happy ones. ]

You're one hell of an artist.

[Gobbet peers down at the drawing with unrestrained curiosity. It looks a tad like what Knight could be, if they were older and fiercer. A grown up version of the little bug sitting beside her. Angrier.]

[She frowns in thought, wondering why the thought of growing up would make them sad or unhappy. It could be she's just off the mark, of course, she's just making assumptions. The best way to find out would be to just ask.]

Not a fan of this guy, huh?

[ They consider the question for a moment, and in response...write something in strange round symbols, below the drawing. Sketch around the figure a little more; it appears to be standing on a pedestal, surrounded by three masked figures.

They stare at it for a long moment; their scrutiny is revealed to be apparently translating it in their head, as they write more slowly underneath it in words Gobbet can read. ]

"Memorial to the Hollow Knight

In the Black Vault far above.
Through its sacrifice Hallownest lasts eternal."

[ Scribble, scribble. More words.
my sibling .

Another flurry of fierce writing. Like before, with the text of the memorial, they seem to be quoting something; it's not their own words. ]

"No cost too great.

No mind to think.

No will to break.

No voice to cry suffering.

Born of God and Void.

You shall seal the blinding light that plagues their dreams. You are the Vessel. You are the Hollow Knight."

[ sacrificed by pale king . our parent .

all vessels

for sickness .

only one sacrifice .

the rest destroyed .

That...probably explains the dislike, at least.... though the Knight doesn't seem to be particularly angry. No, the slump of their shoulders, the droop of their head, suggests exhaustion more.

They have such burdens to carry. ]

Edited 2018-02-06 02:44 (UTC)

[Gobbet reads the words and...it's all a bit above her paygrade. She tries to make sense of them, but from what she can tell it seems she's just hit a nerve. That Knight here finds more meaning in the name than she does. In the end she simply nods and leans back against the rocks.]

That sounds pretty messed up. Never been in that position, but I'm sorry you had to experience things that way. Hopefully your life here can be a little less...heavy.

[ Even being able to 'speak' of it, in their own way, is a relief; even if the recipient of such speech doesn't quite understand it. Gobbet gets an apologetic sort of head bobble - it's a lot to take in.

They wipe out their writing and drawing again, leaving the board blank and clean.

i have friends

and a home

it is nice here

Despite the shadow monsters and the sun going out and the inherent hardships of living on an island without many luxuries, this is a pleasant vacation for them, to some degree.

is it nice for you here ? They look up, tilting their head backwards so they're looking at her upside-down. ]

[Is it nice for you here?]

[Gobbet thinks back to her very first day and almost getting eaten by monkeys. She thinks back to the crystals in the caves, to dying, to the week long onslaught of shadow monsters, to the nights she went hungry because of floodwaters ruining the foraging zones, the days she spent crouched low in the brush in search of prey she couldn't catch, to wading through the ocean in the hopes of grabbing a fish because her stomach hurt so bad -]

[Thinks of Tim (the asshole) and Shepard (the thrice-over hero) and everyone she's met who falls somewhere in between.]

[She thinks of Ace and Duncan, Is0bel and Gaichu, even Racter and his creepy ass drone.]

Yeah, I'd say it is.

[It's not a lie, believe it or not. She seems completely genuine. It may be rough, it may be pretty awful sometimes, but it's pretty good most of the time and it's basically one big tropical vacation. It's not like going hungry is new to her. It's not like a colorful cast of characters is going to make HER feel out of place. It's nice. In its own strange, bizarre, way.]

I like that it's simple, you know? Each day you make the choice to live or die and everything falls into place in the middle after that. It's not so far off from home for me.

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January Aftermath: What Would It Take

Gobbet | OTA

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