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thisavrou_log2017-07-09 01:05 pm
pillz) wrote in thisavrou_log2017-07-09 01:05 pm
The Demon Plot: DEATH OF GRINDING MADNESS [July Player Event]
Who: Ensemble production, all individuals who opted in to the plot
When: July 9-21
Where: Two inhabited planets around the Ingress
What: The demon plot kicks off, in which malevolent shadow beings, copies of existing characters, begin to materialize and harass the PCs across the worlds. Plotting post is here, and a network post will go up within the next 2 days from several PCs advising on how to end the plot.
Warnings: Violence, psychological themes, possibly past trauma, etc.
When: July 9-21
Where: Two inhabited planets around the Ingress
What: The demon plot kicks off, in which malevolent shadow beings, copies of existing characters, begin to materialize and harass the PCs across the worlds. Plotting post is here, and a network post will go up within the next 2 days from several PCs advising on how to end the plot.
Warnings: Violence, psychological themes, possibly past trauma, etc.
Death of Grinding Madness
The Demon Plot
(mild spoilers for The Raven Cycle)
The Demon Plot
(mild spoilers for The Raven Cycle)
On July 9, a demon begins to make its way through the Ingress, summoned through by a shitty teenager.
July 9-12
Harrying
Harrying
It's innocuous in the beginning. A movement in the corner of your eye, a shadow through a curtain-- merely a tree. But then the shadow figures begin to emerge into full being. Black-eyed wraiths that look like enemies, friends with whom you've had past conflict, or even you yourself. At first, it's merely harrying, minor harassment. Threatening gestures, broken gestures, jump scares.
Pursue them, and they disappear-- you might even catch a glimpse of how. They melt down into black slime, racing away across floors, through sewer grates, up walls, impossible to follow. By now, the worst of the climate freeze is over, but residual ice does pose a needles extra obstacle.
Pursue them, and they disappear-- you might even catch a glimpse of how. They melt down into black slime, racing away across floors, through sewer grates, up walls, impossible to follow. By now, the worst of the climate freeze is over, but residual ice does pose a needles extra obstacle.
July 12-15
The Violence Escalates
The Violence Escalates
In the days that follow, the situation only gets worse.
Sporadic harassment turns into outright attacks. The targeting is unmistakable. The shadow beings who can speak tell cruel tales of animosity, spite, even hatred. They are as deadly with their hands or strange powers as their doppelgangers are, and worse, they're functionally indestructible. Rip off one's head and it merely reforms out of sticky black ink. Limbs regenerate just as easily. The being might dispell for a few hours, but no doubt— it'll be back, if not to hurt you then someone you know.
The Savrii begin to notice. It's hard not to. While there is hardly an epidemic of panic, the disruptions are hard to miss-- broken windows, screams, random violence. Soon, the authorities begin to open safehouse facilities at which characters can seek shelter.
Sporadic harassment turns into outright attacks. The targeting is unmistakable. The shadow beings who can speak tell cruel tales of animosity, spite, even hatred. They are as deadly with their hands or strange powers as their doppelgangers are, and worse, they're functionally indestructible. Rip off one's head and it merely reforms out of sticky black ink. Limbs regenerate just as easily. The being might dispell for a few hours, but no doubt— it'll be back, if not to hurt you then someone you know.
The Savrii begin to notice. It's hard not to. While there is hardly an epidemic of panic, the disruptions are hard to miss-- broken windows, screams, random violence. Soon, the authorities begin to open safehouse facilities at which characters can seek shelter.
July 15-18
The Golem
The Golem
On July 17, something horrific begins to happen— several shadow beings merge to form a massive golem in Kauto R1. It is a grotesque, horrifying spectacle, of limbs and eyes and pulsating flesh. It reaches almost sixty feet in height. Combined together, this shadow creature is considerably less intelligent than the individual beings were. However, it is also immensely strong and regenerates just like the smaller ones did.
Within the mall, hundreds of daytime shoppers are trapped within. Luckily, they have food and climate control. Perhaps you're one of them-- or perhaps you're trying to get in to provide medical care.
In the meantime, the attacks from the individual shadow beings don't stop. Despite the intelligence exhibited by some, all of them seem mindlessly bent on tormenting their targets until they are killed.
Within the mall, hundreds of daytime shoppers are trapped within. Luckily, they have food and climate control. Perhaps you're one of them-- or perhaps you're trying to get in to provide medical care.
In the meantime, the attacks from the individual shadow beings don't stop. Despite the intelligence exhibited by some, all of them seem mindlessly bent on tormenting their targets until they are killed.
July 18-21
The Sacrifice
The Sacrifice
On the 9th day, a network post goes up (link pending, will be OOCly forward-dated to July 10th latest) revealing how to remove the invincibility of the attackers.
And by the 21st, the remaining beings utterly vanish without explanation— unless you happen to bear witness to the events that take place at St. Monmouth.
And by the 21st, the remaining beings utterly vanish without explanation— unless you happen to bear witness to the events that take place at St. Monmouth.
no subject
And then it stops.
Strands of black suddenly settle back into place and it's Nihlus on the floor, clutching at the gaping holes in his ribs, struggling to breathe as his lungs start filling up with fluids. It's Nihlus looking pleadingly up at her with green eyes, agony written into every line of his body.
"Jane," he gasps. "Jane, it's me, I swear- Spirits- spirits-"
no subject
It's not him, you saw it bleed, what it's bleeding now, you saw what it was, get a hold of yourself Shepard get a HOLD of yourself--
Memories flood and flash through, dead and alive, real and fake, gained and mediated. Where is she now? A moment ago, she'd been certain. Now she was crouched on the floor, watching Nihlus die in front of her eyes for the second time since they'd reunited.
"Oh god," she chokes out, voice cracking helplessly, "Nihlus."
What was she doing? What could she do? She'd already done enough. The blood would be on her hands, this time.
"This can't be happening." Eyes darting around, then back to her partner, heaving on the floor, she shakes her head, disbelief, anguish, horror. "This can't be happening," she repeats, no more assured.
--LOOK, look at the room! Think! THINK!
no subject
Watching Shepard as the memories drag her under, the shadow pushes itself up on its hands and knees and slowly, it starts crawling towards her. Black pools on the floor, the heavy patter of fluids escaping from a punctured chest cavity.
"Love, it's alright," Nihlus whispers, close enough now that he's pressing his forehead to hers, subvocals threaded with gentle, warm comfort. "Shhh, it's alright."
Reaching out, it runs its fingers up her forearm, brushing the back of long claws over her knuckles, leaving trails of liquid black against her gloves. Then, gently, very, very gently, it tries to slip them under the grip she had on her pistol. Trying to ease it open, trying to make her let go.
"You're going to be alright."
no subject
He was dead. She was dreaming. No one could survive a sucking chest cavity wound like that, and do what he was doing. She was projecting, trapped in her head, finally, truly losing her mind. Nihlus' voice was whispering to her, telling her it was okay, that everything was going to be alright.
His hands on hers, the warm comfort of his subvocals sinking into her skin, while she--
He's trying to disarm you! Wake up! Snap out of it, or you're going to die!
--looked at him for the first time, glancing down, then back up. Black, viscous and oily, smeared on everything. His hands wrapped around-- not hers, but her gun, easing it out of her grip, attempting to pry each clamped finger loose.
His crooning still in her ears, she raises her free hand, moving it up his chest, until it's resting dead centre on his carapace. Shuddering an exhale, she shakes her head.
"You won't be."
The blue of sparking eezo light her body in a wreath of flames in nanoseconds — and in the next, a rush of energy slams into the shadow's body, yanking it off the floor, suspending it in midair, crushing it with pure opposite enacted force.
no subject
There was no time for it to react to her words.
Shepard will catch a glimpse of widened, black eyes as the Warp yanks it away, careening through the air- and the ear-bleeding SCREECH at the nearly drowns out the sound of bones breaking, flesh being rend as the field starts tearing it apart.
It's not screaming in pain.
It's screaming in rage.
no subject
She runs.
There's nothing else to do.
Barely aware of the remaining time, she hears the sickening drop, and sprints, towards reception, and the wider, taller space it offers. If she could get outside--
no subject
It's silent for a second. Utterly dead quiet asides from the sound of Shepard's boots as she took off.
There's a click. A mechanical sound that rings out from behind her.
Just a split second before the shadow launches its grapple arm at her leg.
no subject
Shepard stumbles, but not enough to fall completely, one arm catching her, leg back, other on her knee. The omni-blade is already forging as she grits, strains against the grappling hook's pull.
no subject
It moves. It crawls after her on muscles that don't exist, reeling her in, reeling her closer, the pop-pop-pop of bones aligning and breaking and dislocating snapping through the room.
"J҉̬͇̭̩̥ą̖̻a̩̠͚̫̝͓͖a̵̡̖͈̤͓̣̦n̘̥̮̺̭̗̝͘e̳̥̭͔͇"
The word is heaved through liquefied innards and torn vocal cords, and if Shepard looks up, she will see the creature's twisted visage, tarry sludge dripping from glowing white teeth. If she lets it pull her close enough, it will swipe at her, try to pull her close, to pin her down.
no subject
The first hit splinters it, silicon-carbide shearing through much of the metal, but it takes two more strokes, two more than she'd prefer, before the cable groans — and snaps, the built-up tension in the wire slashing across her hardsuit, leaving a clear gash through the strengthened filament weave.
The shadow that isn't Nihlus is swiping, but she's already off — a moment to her feet, and she's dashing down the corridor again, breathing in and out in rapid gasps.
no subject
"JANE!"
The hand still clamped on Shepard's ankle starts hissing and boiling, trailing sizzling acidic muck after her as it melts.
"I'd REALLY appreciate it if you'd just stop running from me, dearest," the shade calls out, picking up speed now as its legs finally reorient themselves. "I'm almost getting the impression that you're ashamed to be with me!"
no subject
Don't look back. Don't stop. Go, urges the primeval part of her brain, concerned far more with survival, continued survival, than her pithy emotions, strangling them into silence. He-- the thing was still talking to her, its subvocals thrumming all the intent not mentioned in its words. Think of it as anything but him.
She pushes, banking the walls sharply, bursting into the antehall of her own offices at full sprint. The front door, at least, was already unlocked — an unexpected blessing of her encounter with Chara. If she could time it just right, she could lift the shade of Nihlus, holding him there — and be long gone before her dropped.
no subject
Real Nihlus would have predicted the trap. Would have seen it a mile away. But the shadow had a single reason for existence, a single drive. This late along and it's fractured enough from its source to have lost such foresight anyways.
"Is that all you can think about when we're together, Jane?" The slam of a dense weight against the wall rings out behind her, the monster still too broken to properly coordinate. "Poor Garrus, waiting for you out there, somewhere, universes away. What he'd think of you now, what he'd think, seeing you finding happiness in someone else's arms? Do you even love him still?"
It's getting faster though, strides getting longer and longer, bones shifting back into their rightful places. Over the slam of taloned feet against flooring, its voice dips into a venomous hiss.
"Or maybe I'm the stand-in here?"
no subject
How often had she thought about it? Attempted to untangle the lines, cables, wires and string of her heart? Who was she, then, to pore over his shadow's network post, and wonder how much of it was him all along?
He still wasn't in range. A few more strides would do it-- running as he was, talking about...stand-ins. Was it him? Or her? Or both, a insidious finger of internal dialogue suggests, like the drag on the rim of a wet wine glass. No. Not now. Focus.
With the words still ringing in her ears, her body is moves through, into the physical mnemonics, blue foxfire whipping up, away, pulling him off the ground, holding him aloft. Damage would be negligible, but what did it matter to an unkillable enemy?
She'd have 12 seconds once it grabbed him — more than enough to be a distant memory.
no subject
Until it just-
... Stops.
"Jane."
The voice is quiet. Soft and edged with all of Nihlus' dark little worries, all of his fears, underlined by brittle little snaps and cracks of bones still settling back into place.
"Don't go."
Oily liquid shifts back into rough plating, pale markings drawings themselves over its face. It reaches out towards her with its remaining hand, green eyes pleading.
"Please, don't go. I don't care if you're using me. I'll be whatever you need me to be- whatever you want me to be, just don't-"
The complex, weaving markings melt away, lost to simpler, solid geometric blues, dark scales shifting light grey and the irises turn a familiar icy, icy blue.
"Don't leave me."
no subject
Garrus.
Fingers knock the lock—already slashed by Chara—out completely, and scrabble at the edge for leverage, mind a million miles afield, line of sight fixed closer.
How long had it been since she'd seen his face? A year and a half, she knows. Just a year and a half. He'd been here, once, while she had — when she'd been thrust into cryo, for some damn reason or another. Just a year and a half.
And so much has changed.
Shepard's hands close around the edge of the door's seal, and haul it back. She'd already wasted too much time. Four, now five seconds past when she'd hoped to be long gone. Hands at the door, ready to push off into a dead sprint, she lets time spin out just one selfish second longer.
Six.
Closing her eyes, she turns her head, opening them again, looking out. It's barely a whisper, almost lost in the rush of her acceleration.
"Goodbye."
no subject
It doesn't run after her. Instead, it hums a soft tune as it slides past the gap in the door once more and makes its way down the hallway, following the trail of sizzling acid.
It is patient. It will find her again.