June Event: Chaos, Chaos!

[lifeaftr_mods]

JUNE EVENT: CHAOS, CHAOS!

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: It's just a little chaos...
When: June 17th - June 22nd
Where: Primarily Io, though also across Ensō and the islets if applicable
Warnings: Violence, possible body horror, potential anxiety and dysmorphia associated with body-swapping

Who Keeps Spinning the World Around?

The morning of June 17th, you'll probably notice things are amiss rather quickly. Your hands aren't your hands, or you're no longer in a squishy human flesh shape, or worse. Maybe your Lawful Good persona has plummeted into an outright Chaotic Evil one. Or maybe you wake up with a brand new power in your hands! Whatever the case is, no explanation is going to be immediately forthcoming, from Eleu or the Storyteller or anyone else. You'll have to figure out this mess on your own. Adjust to your new circumstances, master your new powers, and do what you can to make it through the next few days...because they're going to be some very interesting ones, for certain.

Catch Me If You Can!

Come June 20th, whether you're back to normal selves or not, Eleu has a job for you. A request, even. They're going to need your help to take care of this little problem and put a stop to all this absolute madness.

Those interested in helping can get in touch with any of the honeybees buzzing anxiously about Io, and they will redirect you to the Honeycomb, which has now been provided with several barrels of Honeycomb Sledgehammers for your use. You don't have to take one if you don't need it, but they make a very powerful weapon. Additionally, Eleu will take care to assure that, in exchange for your help, you may keep the Sledgehammer, if you so choose. Those interested in assisting may access our boss fight at its top-level below. This is a single thread with no order, but anyone may participate, regardless of their current state of being. Don't worry about how you contribute, or tag speed. Anyone who's concerned about being left out is welcome to reach out to us to handwave or backtag their involvement, if necessary!

The Clown Box is going to put up a fight, though. And it's not going to be pretty.

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] June 17th: Chaos begins!
[ ♆ ] June 21st: On the eve of the final battle, Storytelling commences.
[ ♆ ] June 22nd: Characters confront the Clown Box, and all parties return to normal.
[ ♆ ] June 25th: All parties become privy to the final outcome involving the Clown Box.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

ii

[forwearemany]

(They're starting to hit the point where even if their attempts at walking are just awkward stumbles, they manage to stay on their feet more often than fall.

Now they've just got to manage everything else.

Like drinking. Should they really be trying to drink wine? No. Should they be starting with something basic and less poisoning, like water? Yes. But it's funny how much wisdom one loses when put in a brain that runs over a million times slower and emotions have gone from consensus errors to powerful chemical sensations. They were curious about alcohol and why organics liked it, and so decided they might as well have a taste.

This isn't going well, mostly beceuse they can't bring themselves to swallow.

Hope you enjoy the sounds of choking and spitting while you're trying to enjoy yourself at the winery, Drifter.)

[hyperlit]

[The Drifter is peering into one of the barrels of rich, dark wine, wondering what it might feel like to get oneself drunk. One of their kin had done little else but drink, repeatedly, as though that might be enough to forget their treatment at the hands of those who despised them for what they were.]

[But the Drifter - they've never had reason to be drunk. Their lifestyle, as it is, would not have allowed it, even if their constitution were not so low that they would not further poison their blood. This isn't their body, however. Perhaps it has an aversion to alcohol.]

[Their contemplating is interrupted by the sound of sputtering. The undeniably clownish silhouette begins to seek out the source.]

[It seems that Mira is the source. The Drifter has met her, at least, though only once. They raise one of Marvus's hands to wave hello.]

[forwearemany]

(The problem with this: The Drifter does not look like the Drifter, but a Troll.

The other problem with this: This isn't Mira, but Legion, who has not had the greatest experience with Trolls.

They had almost, almost managed to swallow their fermented grape juice when they see the towering figure approaching. Their eyes go wide, and they immediately choke and spit their drink everywhere.

Sorry Drifter.)

[hyperlit]

[They stumble back reflexively, arms raised to prevent the shower of red from spattering all over them. It has limited success. They have to take active steps to ensure they do not overbalance and go crashing into the glassware behind them, unused as they are to managing a body of these proportions. Or one this healthy.]

[They've managed to communicate with hands before. Perhaps again...?]

[Sign language is easier than trying to teach themself to vocalize.]

I am not your enemy.

[forwearemany]

(They're coughing and sputtering and almost don't notice the signs, but their eyes catch movement and oh that's a relief.

Their attempts to sign are uncoordinated; they're both unused to this body and unused to five fingers. The awkwardness ceused by the latter might give them away, even before they manage words.)

We are not ... (They are uncertain if Mira has a sign name, so they try to fingerspell it, despite being uncertain of the exact spelling of her name.)

[hyperlit]

[They are not her. The specifics are fuzzy but the meaning itself is obvious, which is merciful. At least, the Drifter assumes so; they are, after all, not the ordinary inhabitant of this body either.]

Nor am I this creature.

[forwearemany]

(Mira tilts her head to the side.)

Who?

(Legion knows of only a few people who understand sign language. Is this, perhaps, one of their allies?)

[hyperlit]

Drifter.

And you?

[Hopefully the term "drifter" will be enough for whoever this might be. They've not any other name.]

[forwearemany]

(Their eyes widen, and then close partially as they break out into a smile. Friend!)

Legion.

[hyperlit]

[Ah.]

[So this is an adjustment for both of them.]

I do not recognize this body. Do you recognize yours?

[forwearemany]

(They consider this.)

No.

(They aren't completely unfamiliar with Mira, but they didn't realize this was her body until another named it.)

Do you?

(They remember that wave.)

[hyperlit]

Yes. Her name is M-I-R-A.

[Fingerspelling is the quickest method, and the easiest.]

Have spoken only briefly.

[forwearemany]

Acknowledged.

(They tilt their head slightly.)

Drinking?

(It doesn't seem like something the Drifter would do.)

[hyperlit]

I could ask the same.

Attempting to chart land in search of original owner.

[They have steered clear of that temptation to the best of their ability, in their mind, but...]

[It's still there. They only do not want to inadvertently poison this body in the process. It does not, after all, belong to them.]

[forwearemany]

Wish to understand why organics drink it.

(Perhaps consuming it will teach them.

Their head tilts to the side.)

You believe there was an owner other than the God?

[hyperlit]

Your body has an owner. Thus, this may as well. I do not recognize them.

[And it would be imprudent to abuse said body. Even if the temptation to test its limits is certainly there - but those are not their limits to test.]

[forwearemany]

Affirmative.

(Drinking is, in their experience, ubiquitous among organics. Even Quarian-creators do it.

They headtilt, not fully understanding what the Drifter is getting at.)

You believe they would wish for you to restrict your actions?

[hyperlit]

It is not my body to use.

[Healthy as it is, it is...not their place to use it for whatever they wish. Short of doing what is necessary to recover its owner.]

Perhaps in finding them, there may be a way to restore proper ownership.

[forwearemany]

It is unlikely. Additionally, broadcasting your situation via stone is more efficient.

(There's a doubtful expression on their face. It's very obvious.)

Reason for searching this location?

[hyperlit]

I do not wish to.

[They don't elaborate on that.]

I am searching all locations.

[forwearemany]

...Why?

(Finding them may be extraordinarily difficult, using this method. It is inefficient.

Their expressions are far more obvious, in Mira's body. Look at that doubt and suspiscion.)

[hyperlit]

I am attempting to find them.

[They don't respond to the actual question - only the obvious one. Sorry, Legion. But given recent conversations, there is only so much they're willing to confide to you now.]

[forwearemany]

Via the ... least ...

(It's probably alarming the way they stop, deflate, and give up, but they can see where this is going, and they don't want to fight.

It fills them with an awful, ugly sensation. They have been familiar with emotions, but it's only now that they're beginning to understand why organics also refer to them as "feelings".

One unpleasant thought immediately evokes several more. Perhaps this is why organics drink.

They are uncertain of how to control this sudden impulse toward negativity.)

[hyperlit]

[They don't have an answer for that either. They don't know who this is; either they contact everyone at once and hope that someone has an answer, or they solve the problem on their own.]

[Naturally, they've chosen the latter.]

I have not seen them here.

Or they have not seen me.

So I will continue to look.

[forwearemany]

(Perhaps a network post to find out who is in who would be a good idea, but they aren't thinking about that.)

Ok.

(They aren't thinking about that because one negative thought keeps leading to another and they don't know what to do to stop it and they aren't sure whether there's a point anyway.

No matter how much they love the residents of Enso, they are still alone.

Perhaps drinking might help but there's not much point to that either, because they cannot swallow fluids.

...Maybe they should go.

They are not yet aware of how obvious their distress is on their current face. They look, perheps inexplicably, like they might start crying any moment.)