childrenofbahamutlogs | EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

A CRASH IN THE NIGHT

In the dark hours of a snowy early morning, a sudden BOOM can be heard all across Town. It is swiftly followed by sounds of warping metal and then a screeching crash. Curious, albeit groggy, residents emerge only to find a smoking wreck just a mile outside of Town.

The strange craft appears to be almost nautiloid in shape with wrenched, broken tendrils streaming out the opening.

Much of it is metal although some of it almost seems... organic.

Those who with to get a closer look will be met by Charlie and Dimitri who are already on the job. They request curious onlookers keep their distance since this craft is, without a doubt, tremendously dangerous.

Later in the day, there appears to be an outfit of officials coming from the west to investigate and clean up the wreckage. Thankfully(?), you will all find out soon enough what's going on.

INVESTIGATION & PROTECTION

Deathcard Cabin by Jonah Senzel

4:07 / 13:06

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Click here to listen.

From the Inscryption OST: A unique and haunting sound paired with a unique and haunting game.

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Charlie reports to the citizens of Town that an Illithid cargo transport. The pilot did not survive the crash, but they appeared to be transporting some kind of new breed of Intellect Devourers.

"We do not yet know what this new breed is capable of, but..."

Charlie does give everyone a rundown of what an Illithid and what an Intellect Devourer is, what they are capable of, and a keen warning to tread lightly. Many dead ones were discovered in the cargo but several of the enclosures were damaged in the crash and the likelihood of escapees is high.

Charlie reiterates: These creatures are to be killed on sight, or contained until someone can kill it. If you are not confident in your combat abilities, please remain in your homes as much as possible and seal all openings to your dwelling. Those who are capable though are urged to begin patrols of Town alongside Slayd, Dimitri and himself to ensure that Town and the surrounding areas are safe.

Please travel in pairs or groups, do not be alone! Attack from a distance when possible. Hoshiko will offer her assistance as a markswoman as well by picking off any Intellect Devourers from a distance that she can for those that are forced to travel alone. (Don't worry about any jokes she makes of her service not being cheap though. Charlie wouldn't actually let her charge you anything.)

Unfortunately, not even they can predict the blizzard that rolls through Town in the midst of all this. If you happen to see anything skittering through the snow, don't panic too much. It could just be a tiny woodland creature looking for a warm burrow to hide away in!

At least you hope it is.

PROMPT #3

Hybrid intellect devourers are unique from the regular ones in that the goal is not to kill their target, but to gather intelligence and act as a kind of spy network.

They will flee when confronted directly by greater numbers, but will attack a lone target. They do this by jumping at the target's head and wrapping a wet tendril around their neck. They will choke who they've wrapped around if anyone tries to remove it. They are also far more likely to try and attack sleeping target (hence the advice to keep your homes closed!).

These hybrids emit spores that will keep the target asleep during feeding. Their primary goal appears to be infiltrating the targets' minds and absorbing some of their memories. The target will have their mind left mostly intact... though they may suffer short term memory loss, confusion, distress, fatigue and head pain.

Here's where the fun starts!

Once one of these critters has fed on someone, they are onto their next target. When a fed Intellect Devourer feeds from another target, that target may absorb some of the previous target's memories. This can span across multiple victims and be erratic in whose memories taint whose mind. The memories will cross-pollinate in the form of dreams or waking visions and hallucinations.

If one of these creatures is killed, it will explode, releasing a powerful psionic wave and the memories it had absorbed from any recent targets. Anyone within ten (10) yards of the dying creature will be afflicted with extreme head pain in the short term and also witness the memories of it's previous victims.

Enjoy your muddled memories and leggy brain-hunting!

The outfit of people who have come to investigate are from New Svihelen's disaster containment squad and are investigating the hybrid creatures and the possible reason for an Illithid ship to crash here of all places. Right now, the running theory is that interference from the selfsame summoning circle that brought you all here could have caused the interplanar navigation systems of the ship to malfunction but nothing has been determined yet.

Eventually, these creatures will all be rounded up and taken care of. They are persistent and stealthy though in their efforts to survive above all else. Charlie assures that they're doing all they can to make Town safe once and for all but it will take some time.

Notes

⁂ The partner plotting post for this event/quarter is also up!

⁂ Additionally, we have a state of the game post available for people to read about updates, clarifications, and housekeeping items!

⁂ If you have any further questions or feedback about this event specifically, please comment here!

⁂ For even more ambient event music, you can check out this this playlist!

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Popp is not much of a big picture kind of guy. Mithrun losing is maybe... bad, for his world situation, actually... He'd pat him on the back if he could do that without risking their current balance situation.

"So that's why you push yourself so hard? You don't want to lose again? I get that, I've had a lot of close calls myself."

If Rosie says she's good to get up on her feet, well. Then Angeal will choose to believe her. So he gets up a little more, one hand to hers and another at her back, helping her rise up. Just in case she needs something to steady her.

Especially when she reveals more of the details and ah. It was that conversation, rather than a different one. Relief floods through Angeal, for more reasons than one.

One kind is, of course, that he doesn't have to explain to her the clusterfuck that was her death. But the other is simply... He knows, a bit, that she hasn't really believed him about some things he's said. About his confidence in her, about how to be friends with her, all those little things. It hasn't stopped him from sticking with her, just... It's been a bit of a bump in the road, something he had figured he'd have to keep chipping away at for ages.

Probably he'll still have to keep pushing forward a bit... but if she's seen that, then maybe...

"I know," he reassures her gently. "It was a pretty big conversation. I remember being on pins and needles for it." Rosie can remember this too, better than another version of herself can even. "You... don't have to talk about it right away, you know. Let's just go and sit down for a second, okay?" Until she can get over the crying headache, anyway.

Wow, he can feel everything kind of... soften up just like that. They're cuddled in pretty close, it'd be impossible to miss!

"Well, it's not like you're hard
to believe in... Themis~"

Popp says the name with honest affection, with as much care and feeling as he puts into saying a new spell, but also a certain amount of glee at having some emotional power of his own here. Then he sneezes.

"Hey, uh... How about we head back to Town? You probably need some rest after all that magic, right?"

Sure, like just one of them needs a break. Is Popp offering or even trying to get down? No. He's had an ordeal, okay?

"Pandaemonium itself is heavily warded, with access to the halls tightly controlled. For a creature to entirely escape Pandaemonium would necessitate a fairly of multiple systems."

To say nothing of the fact that the neus would like as not permit a creature to escape by that method even should one have the forethought to try.

"In the event of a breach of one of the cells, however, the individual sections of Pandaemonium can be sealed off. Thus either barring or limiting the locations to which a creature could escape; the wards that would be brought up answer only to the authority of keywards. Once the relevant section was sealed, warders would then seek to find and re-inter the creature in question. For something of a similar nature to those we currently seek, that would likely involve warders working in pairs, and the use of a specialized binding magic once the creature was found."

Though binding over outright destruction of the entity has more to do with the nature of Pandaemonium overall.

This kind of painful, passionate earnestness... It stings just a little bit with who it reminds him of. In more than one way, and maybe worse than the headache, too. Angeal waits for him to calm down a bit, or at least stop talking, before he lets out a sigh.

"Your friend and me... Our situations might be a bit different. But..." He rubs a hand against his face, fingers pressing down against the bridge of his nose for a second before sliding away.

"...I'll keep it in mind." It feels kind of strange to say 'thank you' in a situation like this, especially with his own complicated feelings about it all. "So. What did you see, exactly?" He may as well get a clearer idea of just what's going on, and how ashamed he should be feeling.

"Maybe."

Angeal rather doubts it, personally. Yeah, he knows that he's just one guy as he turns to start making his way out of town to another place on the outskirts... But he's also a pretty big guy to start with. That's before you take into consideration his massive horns, claws, and the way that the path he forges through the snow is a pretty melted one before the cold comes over it again in his wake.

What he's saying is that he doesn't make a particularly appealing target just now, but he's willing to be proven wrong as he makes his way to the dormant orchard waiting for him. Rather than heading right to the large main house, he goes instead for the large barn that's nearby.

It's going to take a minute to undo the doors - of course he'd shut this place down tight too at the news.

And they'll see if that's enough time for something to be tempted, or otherwise.

Popp takes that keeping it in mind statement at face value whether he should be or not. He simmers down to match Angeal's quieter energy eventually, but there's still a lot of emotions boiling under the surface.

"...Wings."

He taps his own shoulder to point out what he's talking about. He can still feel a certain amount of phantom crawling going on in there, and he stretches his quartet of bat like wings out to reassure himself that it does not feel like that at all. He doesn't have the control to pop out only one set at a time, which might be better or worse.

"Not, uh. Like these? Felt them sliding out, too, which was pretty awful... I juuust missed hearing about where they came from, I think? Some sort of project? Genesis was also there."

This is really understating how extremely there Genesis was in the memory, but it would be impossible to overstate it. He is a very intense type of person.

Mithrun blinks, side-eyeing Popp with intensity - or maybe it just looks that way because he's looking at him and can't turn his head.

Not that Mithrun turns his head more than he has to when he looks at people to begin with.

"Over Marcille? Sure, it's best I not die again, but she has nothing go do with how I operate."

That's a real disconcerting look to get looked at by! Popp eyeballs him back, and does not manage a tenth of the energy. Or rather the lack of energy, which has a certain impact of its own.

"So, uh. It's the other one that's more important, the lion demon? It seemed strong and all, but it didn't want to be in charge... I think. I've never seen any kind of dark lord and underling relationship like whatever those two had going on."

A long suffering sigh. There are a lot of ways that people (and non-people) interact that Popp does not have experience with, he's coming to find.

The memory is surprisingly sharp, given its age and the blur of fear and pain that accompanies it. It's hard to tell what's happening at first. It's the squeal of tires and an arm around him, clutching tight, that wakes him. The car goes off the road, gravel and dust kicking up around them as it lurches to a halt. Small fingers twist into the dark material of Nanny Amelia's dress, wide blue eyes blinking up at her in confusion. There's no gentle smile or reassuring warmth in pretty amber eyes to meet him, though.

Her gaze is focused back on the road, watching, tense and trembling like a skittish chocobo. The thought almost makes him giggle. He can still smell the distinctive scent of the birds on both of them, imagines he'll never forget the feeling of their feathers beneath his fingers. But he's exhausted from a long day and until Amelia asks something of him he really has no idea what's going on. Maybe there was an animal on the road?

Another smile from him at the idea of the little chick he'd gotten to hold chasing after him, demanding to come home with him. Surely Dad would let him have a bird, right?

That's when the first car explodes.

It's all chaos after that. Amelia pulling him in against her before he can see more than the brilliance of the fire. Commands shouted. Members of the crownsguard rushing to the battle. The shrieking of some daemonic thing behind them.

Amelia's arm around his shoulders, trying to keep him down as they slip out of the back seat and begin to move away from the caravan, away from the danger. Another cry of rage, another of pain, one guardsman sailing past them in a crumpled heap. Amelia's fingers at the side of his face, trying to force his gaze forward but not daring the risk of covering his eyes entirely.

It's all flames and noise and fear pounding in his ears until suddenly there's nothing but Amelia's scream in his ears and his face in the dirt. There's pain. At least... He thought there was. Can feel something hot and wet seeping into his shirt, his pants, the weight of Amelia above him. Tiny fingers curl in the dirt but he doesn't move. He tries so hard to scramble to his feet but his legs don't even twitch in response. There's just more blood. Too much blood. Even his childish understanding knows that much and when he manages to lift his head Amelia doesn't respond, doesn't put her hand over the back of his neck to keep him down as she had done a hundred times before when they'd practiced for something scary just like this.

"Miss 'Melia?" his voice slurred and slow, his head hurts, swims uncomfortably like it had when he had a really bad fever last year. There's still no answer but he can see additional headlights on the road, the Regalia at the head of the procession and even though he hurts he knows then it will be okay. The Regalia means his dad is coming. His dad and Cor will be driving and maybe even Clarus and Drautos will be with him.

He barely understands what's happening but the blue flash of the King's magic is familiar and safe and the horrible screaming creature can't get closer now. He reaches out, fingers curling in Amelia's dark hair, surprised to realize it is splayed out over him. Hadn't it been in a braid earlier? Had that monster cut Miss Amelia's pretty hair?

It's only then he begins to understand. All that blood. Too much blood for one small boy. Too much even for one small boy and the delicate young woman that laid atop him. Not for them both to be safe, to be okay. His shirt clings to him, soaked in it and he's suddenly very aware that it's not his.

Even though it should be.

It's only then that tears begin to trickle down his cheeks, thick and hot and his Dad is calling his name but everything seems to spin, his vision blurred with tears until suddenly everything goes dark.

What comes after is the strangest dream one that is odd but not as scary as it could be. Not with the fluffy little creature that guides him through it. He doesn't understand it, the weight of what it means to have such dark creatures in his mind. Years later, a decade in the future, Noctis will wonder if it was a hint even then of the darkness that lingers in his mind, the slow dragging agony of depression. A few more beyond that, when he meets those same creatures in the flesh, he will wonder a great deal more about what it means.

But he never doubts the things Carbuncle said to him in the dream, could never argue that the Regalia felt more like home to him than any room in the Citadel, than his apartment, than.... Anything really. She was the steadiest constant in his life, even more than Ignis though not by much.

The reminder, suddenly brought to the fore in his dreams, only makes the pang of loss all the sharper when he wakes in the wee hours of the morning. He slips carefully out of bed, drops a reassuring kiss to Prompto's temple, and moves through the house like a ghost. His eyes sharp as an owl's thanks to the dragon slumbering within him.

It's only once he's outside in the crisp pre-dawn air, the snow settled for the first time this week, the sky velvet dark and flecked with stars, that he sees the tracks in the snow. One of those little brain creatures had been skittering around the house. The tracks disappear into the attached cottage his father and Cor had been sharing. He should hunt the beast down but he finds himself staring into the cold dark glass of the windows and unable to urge himself to go to the door. And it's there he stays, frozen and feeling his heart breaking all over again when Ravus' patrol brings him near.

[At any other point in time, Lahabrea might spare a thought for the smashed mug and the spilled tea. At the moment, lost in the fog and mire and with his head aching besides he barely even manages to so much as notice the clattering teacup.

What he does manage to recognize is that he has managed to make it to his destination. That he has found at least one of the people he had been trying to find, and some of the frantic desperation leaches out of him. Admittedly, he doesn't seem to be immediately inclined to speak and he's definitely not particularly stable on his feet either, but he does at least seem to be capable of acknowledged Elidibus' words. If only in the fact that there is safety here.

It's only after a long moment of silence - an almost uncharacteristic silence - that he manages to find his words.]

Caught unaware... my head.

Since always, he just doesn't want people to know it. For the reasons of "don't perceive me" but also just that he hasn't wanted to help people in a long, long time. At least, not in a constructive way. He considers all he did to push Noctis along the path he was supposed to be on 'helping,' but the jury is out on if that's actually true or not. (No, says the jury, that convicted Ardyn so long ago already.)

"Nothing special, really," he says, humble as ever. At least it's closer to true humility than whatever pretenses he had in current day when downplaying his abilities. "Different than what most people expect, but it gets the job done. I can put my energy into things - like plants - to enhance their natural healing factors when they're used in medicine." So, similar to what the Caelums do (except it's not a healing Monster Energy Drink in the end). "For immediate healing or things medicine can't always mend though, like the Scourge, it's a bit more... complicated."

There aren't any infected he could demonstrate on, but: "Do you have any fresh wounds from fighting those things?"

"Definitely would make our jobs easier." And help them mitigate risk as well.

Although with that in mind... Angeal casts his gaze back in the direction he knows the crash is. "I know Charlie wasn't keen us us getting near everything at the start, but maybe we'd find some clues as to what they prefer. Even if they were all caged, you would still want to keep them in some particular environment, right?"

That already troublingly flat gaze darkens - but at least it shifts away from Popp.

"That's because it wasn't an underling. Make no mistake: The demon was always in control."

The disturbingly haunted eyes are off him, but a shudder runs up his back all the same. Mithrun really sounds like he knows what he's talking about!

"You'd fought it before."

He swallows. He's pretty sure he knows where a lot of that intensity is coming from now, and also pretty sure that if he doesn't ask right here on the spot, he's going to chicken out of asking at all.

"Did it... get to someone close to you, before Marcille?"

Rules the underworld...? Interesting that there is a known underworld in Popp's reality and that people are blessed by it. Dimitri always imagined it would inflict curses; there again, most of his understanding of life after death come in the form of horrific hallucinations of those he's lost.

It is noted how cavalier the other boy is though about battle. To him, it seems the stakes might be lower. Obviously, there is some sense of danger but not in the grave way that Dimitri and his friends have faced. "Do you have any such blessings?" Dimitri thinks to ask. That might make sense, actually, since he seems so confident.

"For my part, I only have a Crest - a special type of blood - that enhances my strength. I can't always control it though, unfortunately." He breaks weapons a lot unintentionally.

Nearly losing his head was like, not even in top ten of the worst things that happened to Popp that day. He didn't even lose it; it is even kind of a funny story in hindsight unless he explains the context.

"No, I'm good at magic, but I'm ordinary next to the other disciples... My best friend's got the Dragon Crest, though, yours sounds kind of like that. It's a blood thing, but it shows up and glows whenever he uses it."

He taps the back of his hand.

"Got any good tips I can pass on? Dai's not on good terms with the only other guy who has one."

"Historically," he notes, "it has been the professor who has looked after me." His classmates too but Dimitri definitely has taken to heart the personal ways Byleth tried to ensure his safety. (He doesn't realize to what incredible lengths exactly just yet but will someday.)

"I am glad though I am able to return the favor, even if unhappy about the circumstances that led to such a thing. From my understanding, things here were rather peaceful up until now." He heard about the Fae party, after all, and while tricksters... They hadn't done anything dangerous.

Dimitri does pick at the tacky bit of fur, curious as to what he's feeling. Not crimson like blood, no, but a strange opaque and sticky substance. Brain matter, maybe? Poison, perhaps, though he doesn't think these creatures were capable of that. Spores or pollen is only other guess, inspecting the flecks of it left over on his hand.

He attempts to pull out the leg it is holder closer between claws to inspect it further. He considers this might not be the wisest idea, too, but he's too curious for his own good now. "Something is stuck to its fur," he mentions. "Though I can't make out what. Perhaps something left behind by one of those creatures?"

It's true, and honestly that does help narrow it down a little bit for Angeal. There were... a lot of times he can recall where his focus was on his wings. Mainly how much he hated them, what they represented, some darker thoughts as well. Maybe he should consider himself lucky that the more dark memories, like in the simulation, weren't apparent.

But with Genesis there, and talk of the project... Sighing, Angeal pushes himself up onto his feet at long last, and holds his hand out to Popp.

"Project G," he says quietly. "Now c'mon. Let's at least get out of the snow, if we're going to keep talking about this. I'm pretty sure this isn't all you want to say either." Guys like Popp have a lot of feelings, if not exactly thoughts.

It feels as plummeting, being rent apart again and again and again, fourteen-fold. But he is both observer and victim in a way. A strange way. Byleth hears the shattering in his ears, and in his very soul.

He is Emet-Selch.

He is Emet-Selch's friend.

All at once and like nothing before. Both cast far and wide, let to wander and at the same time, trying desperately to scrape the pieces together. Never the same. Never quite perfect. The grief feels like drowning neath an endless sea. Under the crushing weight of all that water, all the color washed out.

Nothing is as bright or beautiful as home. Everything is sickly, pained, and stupid.

---

It's all so cyclical. He goes on a thousand-thousand journeys, each unaware of the others. He lives, he dies, he is washed and born again to continue his never ending journey.

He watches it happen, too. The shadows of friends who hold no memory. Just pale imitation. A copy of a copy of a copy, each becoming more distorted with each pass, all but the faint colors of their souls. Flickering and fluttering flames in the empty. He gets to watch them suffer and suffer. Each tiny victory and every crushing defeat. It's exhausting in a way that he could never conceptualize.

Not Byleth himself. Not even as Emet-Selch. Not as the wanderer, certainly.

---

When it is time at last for these final throes, he watches that Sorcerer of Eld stand before him.

He spreads his own wings, painted by the faces of the lost. Desperate to be remembered. He has as much conviction as he does grief. They wash over him in equal measure as light and darkness clash and bleed into each other. His very being splitting apart again, threatening to become something terrible, should he falter for even but a moment.

When it does emerge, it comes as a weapon. Driving a hole straight through his beloved friend.

It is relief and anguish, both. To at last be granted release from this existence. Knowing that Elidibus will be alone now, but being allowed to rest at last from the endless stage play. The strings are cut, and he gives and is given that final message.

Remember us. Remember that we once lived.

---

Byleth comes to with a hard, rasping gasp, tears spilling over as he coughs and turns to his side to curl into himself. Everything feels so sharp here. There is a lingering resentment at being...woken. Again?

How strange. He groans at the flood of pain that rushes behind his damp eyes and presses the heels of his palms to them in a vain effort to relieve some of it.

Not only is Dimitri treated to every intimate moment, every kiss, every moan, every kind, whispered word, but he too is treated to Byleth's own view on all of them. His own feelings. The deep, rushing river of emotion that lay beneath the placid surface of the lake. How much Byleth felt, and how little he truly expressed.

How deeply he loved him. That he still does.

When he does awake, Byleth is pressing a damp rag to his forehead, rested in his lap. They both look... not the best. Byleth with the scrapes and claw marks from his attackers, and poor Dimitri from getting the brunt of their...meal.

"Dimitri." He keeps his voice low, knowing full well his head must be pounding.

Mithrun doesn't respond to Popp's realization. There's no need to confirm out loud what Popp has already figured out.

For a moment, it might seem like he won't answer the question, either. After a few moments, though: "Not someone close to me. Myself - fool that I was."

Thankfully, Byleth soon stirs, the pounding in his head eased somewhat by the soft touch of a hand stroking it. It's still overwhelming, and his face contorts with that pain.

Vision slowly coming into a wavering focus.

"Themis?" He groans, even at the sound and volume of his own voice. The look on the man's face, pallid and slicked with sweat, and the smell of sick...

"You look. Terrible? What- what happened?" He tries to sit up only to be quickly thwarted by the way his balance whirls when he moves.

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Page 14 of 26

EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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Closed

I'll share in your suffering to make you well, to make you well(Ravus)

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(cw: apocalyptic themes, mild horror, major spoilers)

nsfw kinda

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