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

▶︎

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

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"Mm. A 'fate' that needs a push, then." One hell of a push, too.

He catches sight of some disturbed snow, and heads for it, barely turning his head as he speaks. "Who's 'most'?"

"Point," Angeal agrees, although with some amount of reluctance. "But just because they are influencing us doesn't mean we should just let them slide without keeping them in check."

Another huff, this time with a flicker of flame to accompany it. Sometimes it's hard for him to hold back on that when his emotions are too heated.

"...I just worried you'll get hurt, flinging yourself into combat like that."

That statement really does need to be run back. Considering his back is to Popp as he fixes up the tea, Angeal's grimace at the statement isn't visible but it does still happen.

"...I'll try to pretend I know what you mean in a positive sense." Or else his brain is going to take that sentence and run with it. And it's already made a rather worryingly impressive dash to begin with. Even on the medication that he's gotten from Charlie, Angeal isn't sure how he'll work through this.

"But no. I can't really stop it from being a thing that is on me at all times. And there's more to it than whatever you might have glimpsed in that one memory." Letting the water come to a steam, Angeal sighs and leans against the counter.

"Project G had a lot of messed up things put into it." Well. One main messed up thing literally, but which contained... multitudes. And that's not going into the baby experiments. "And it's... a little different, I think, from what your friend probably experienced."

Well at least he appears to know what happened to some juncture.

"After, if you please." He probably doesn't please, but perhaps at least they can sort through the gist of things and get his head on right. He doesn't enjoy to see the man in discomfort or pain, and there's a deeper part of him that is rightly bothered by it. So much so that his own muzzle creases down into a near-matching frown.

The placid surface of his lake rippling slightly with the stronger emotion that dared bring out something more than a neutral affect.

With the word spoken, Byleth pounces on another one of their attackers. This time, not hesitating to tear the thing apart. An uncharacteristic display, for those not familiar with Byleth's beginnings, of savage efficiency.

There is no explosion, but instead a high-pitched keening sound that presses against Lahabrea's magic. It holds though, and while delivering a rather unpleasant headache, they both find themselves clear of any undue symptoms.

He looks back at the other man, nodding firmly at their success. Now they can easily put the rest down.

Indeed, the only way out for the thing now, is through. It will have to choose which is the more immediate threat. The man who just killed one of it's kin, or the much larger, more imposing Angeal. Either way is not a good option, and now, quite alone, it seems to hesitate- before skittering towards Angeal, only to zag at the last moment and try to slip by him to make an escape. Damned things.

Byleth lunges for it, though he is now a great deal further. He does at least take care not to slam headlong into Angeal. As much of a meet-cute as that could be, they have far more pressing matters at hand, and now is not the time for mistakes or happy accidents.

He doesn't please at all. Just gathering the words and images slowly dripping into his mind like the slow-forming of stalagmites puddling up from a cavern floor into something coherent and meaningful takes far too much energy. A swell of dizziness and the sensation of falling overtake him, even though such a thing - logically - is utterly impossible given he can feel the shape of the pillows and mattress pressing into his back.

No, he wasn't falling at all. He was...

"Flying."

Which doesn't sound correct given his own struggles to master the wings this world has bestowed upon him, but he knows it to be right. His eyes blink halfway open as he tries to focus on the nature of that flight, the sun-touched world whisking by below him, the joy of it, the swell of eager anticipation.

"Somewhere unfamiliar, on wings that were not mine. Yet I knew it. I was going to meet someone. In the garden."

It's true that Lahabrea knows little of Byleth. But neither does he bat an eye as Byleth all but sets to tearing on of the intellect devourers apart. Now that his spellwork is done, there is nothing more to do save to eliminate them as swiftly as they are able.

It is, still, a relief to feel the magic hold though. The keening whine as the creature dies is still not pleasant, nor is the feeling of its deathknell pressing up against his magic. But it is manageable. Far more so than suffering the immediate aftermath, and it's with a nod in return that he sets upon the intellect devourers in turn.

He own attempts are more more methodical, perhaps, than Byleth's. He calls flame, and it answers as surely as it ever has, manifesting as immolating pyres that one by one pick off what stragglers that Byleth doesn't see to.

"It needs a scapegoat," he corrects. "And that was me, apparently. Someone to blame for The Scourge... and be a convenient way to eradicate it as well." After all, if he was to blame then it would be easy to kill him in the end. It would only be right. Perhaps the Astrals did know that when they gave him, his brother, and Aera their 'gifts' and it was all just a long, long con with people as pawns to save themselves.

The time table when immortal, as he's learned, is much different. To them, the last two thousand or so years might have just been a blink.

"The people from my home, Eos. Noctis, Prompto, Ignis, Gladiolus- Regis was here for a time. Cor, too." They vanished at some point. It'd probably taken him longer than it should have to realize. He noticed Cor before Regis though since it meant one of his favorite play things wasn't available. "Ravus... " That's complicated, isn't it? "He's the only one that was part of the Empire, like me, but he didn't know any of this." And there hasn't been reason for Ardyn to tell him, at least.

"A scapegoat. And... a container, I suppose?" He shrugs. "Still, calling it fate at all seems like giving them too much credit."

The answer to his question is no surprise. Mithrun nods. "Those affected by what came next, then."

Byleth allows himself to relax just a bit more, knowing Themis is calming.

"I agree. I wouldn't be here were it not for everything that has happened to me. Suffering is a hard teacher, but one that eventually becomes a more distant ache. The reminder to not waver." He's not as flowery with his language, and he is fine with that. He will leave the poetry to those it is more suited to.

"Come to bed with me. Just- just to rest. I think we both deserve some... undisturbed rest." He moves to gingerly push himself up, turning to help Themis with him. "Does that sound all right? Just a nice nap, curled up with each other, yes?"

The memory comes immediately rushing to the surface. Just with the little he's given. The garden. He feels his stomach drop. It's clear the way his gaze is drawn away from Emet and seems to almost drift off somewhere unreachable.

"I see." That's all he can manage at the moment.

"Well. Perhaps the image will become more clear with time." A part of him hopes not. At one point he would have liked to show him this. The affection. The love. Now though, there is a piece that fears the risk. He has rarely feared rejection. Only elsewise from Dimitri, and that is... a whole other can of worms.

He shakes himself of it though, and goes back to his self-appointed duty of looking after Emet.

Emet-Selch glances in the man's direction, one eye following his movements and noting his apparent distraction. And then he sighs, reaching the other arm out from beneath the covers and snapping for the cup of water to teleport itself into his waiting hand. He still feels sluggish and unsteady, his mind murky like a pond following a flood. But a pond can be crossed, provided one has a boat. Or skirted. Or one can simply fly over it.

"On the contrary, I would say the image is plenty clear already, though I can't say I much enjoyed the view of...me."

He takes a long, cautious sip. Not because he's suspicious - not anymore - but simply because it won't do to overexert himself.

"I remember things, they're just frustratingly out of context. Slow. Jumping all over the place, with no regard for the natural flow of time. And, I assume, a good portion of these visions are not mine at all - but yours, given I was speaking with your voice. That boy, Dimitri, was there, too. Although he had obviously grown into a man by then. Looked like he'd seen a ghost, or perhaps something far worse."

Gradually do the pieces begin to click satisfyingly into place. Emet-Selch gives no indication that he's rejecting any of it, really. If anything, he seems entirely neutral about the whole affair. Or maybe he's simply too exhausted to be outraged. But when he glances at Byleth this time, there is recognition, at least.

"Lucky for you, I am disinclined to gossip."

Edited 2025-04-25 18:23 (UTC)

[It does appeal to his stubborn nature, for all that he can't help but be faintly irritated by it all the same. Enough so that he might well have insisted that he doesn't need anything, had it not been for Erichthonios' timely comment.

As it stand, he instead accepts a mug tea, falling silent for a moment before he speaks.]

It is... galling to not be able to recall the moments I know ought to remain. To know that some of which I might have wished to remain private is no longer so.

[The words come out haltingly, the vulnerability he is offering never something that has come easily to him. But they are none the less the honest truth, even as conviction snaps solidly in place when he speaks again.]

I would sooner see the rest dead, then allow them to continue to hold such memories.

Bad news for it, then: with everything having been locked up tight for the winter, there's really only one true way out the barn. And considering Byleth is right there charging for them...

Well. One could opt to be clever and try to skirt around both of them by going to the side.

But then, considering how Angeal throws his shovel to knock some boxes off from the loft to topple right in front of its path, that's harder said than done.

This time, Mithrun's tail snaps against the ground - or tries to, at least. The layer of snow is a bit of an unrequested cushion. "I am not letting him slide. He's-- pushing, even if his mouth is shut, I'm not just going along with it."

He grips his arms tightly, his gaze fixed on some point in the snow - but his voice is quieter when he speaks. "I won't. I didn't."

"Indeed."

There's a nod of agreement to go with the comment. True, Lahabrea is still not entirely thrilled with the ongoing snow. But he's bearing it about as well as can be expected all the same, and that will have to do.

As for the physical hazards that might be hidden by the snow, those he is content to deal with if and when they should occur. Neither of them are exactly rushing into anything headlong, and he knows some healing magic besides. If it should come to it he should be able to at least manage to patch any injuries up long enough to see them to the crash site as intended.

"I live alone."

By habit, as much as choice, admittedly. But there is still but himself in the house he has claimed for his own.

"But those I live nearest to are managing well enough."

It's true that none other than he could like have conceived of Zodiark and forestalled the Final Days, even if in part. Nor can he deny that for all that he might have wished to assist in Pandaemonium, even after the quelling of the Final Days his efforts had often be required elsewhere. He had built Pandaemonium to be secure, after all. Something that could not have been said of many other places throughout the whole of Amaurot.

Still, even knowing that and what little he has been told of what awaits in his future doesn't make it any easier to bear the fact that he had very much left Erichthonios to deal with both the Final Days and the various things that had come in its wake on his own.

"So I have been informed."

He's not sure he likes the idea of needing to be somewhere other than with what few family he yet had, when the whole of their world was shattered. But he can at least accept the truth of it, unpleasant though it might be.

Most people might take it as a comfort that they would be so consistent. For Rosie, it just makes her worry now she's going to make all the same mistakes all over again. Would these people still be willing to put up with her through it a second time? She supposes only time will tell, but- She wants to hope with how kind Angeal is being about it all.

"It's just... hard, I know," she starts, finally able to gather her thoughts a bit better, "that I don't remember anything." It must be difficult to see her fumbling in the same ways but different flavors. "So I had made some of the same assumptions I did in that memory already, which- I know doesn't really matter as much here as it did there, but! Still."

Here, there wasn't a leaderboard and stakes basically making her especially desperate to be wanted. "It ended well, sure, and I'm glad for that. Glad for you now, too, just... sorry for how much it must suck to see your friend not know you like they already did before. Starting all over."

It's nice to be relied on, isn't it? Rosie also prefers to be the one whose shoulder is used to spill tears rather than the other way around. It's for that reason that she doesn't mind adhering to that request with a nod.

"Sure! Let's see..." Something nice? Well, she's not sure if it's nice in the way he's thinking of, but it is nice to her. So, she hums the first couple of bars before starting to sing: "I never thought I'd be driving through the country just to drive with only music and the clothes that I woke up in.

I never thought I'd need all this time alone, it goes to show: I had so much yet I had need for nothing but you."

Rosie can only imagine. It was already a bit strange sometimes to know of the spring deep in the woods here that told you of other realities you existed in. Despite the temptation initially to know, she was also... afraid of that knowledge and how it might change her. While she sometimes disliked not being the Rosie that people remembered, she disliked more the idea that she wouldn't be herself if she was allowed to. It was a strange place to be mentally.

"Keeping the 'peace' is a pretty clever way of putting it," she concedes, "but definitely not as subtle as they seemed to think." And although she doesn't remember her time there, she does know enough. The situation they were all in was precarious at best and tumultuous at worst. It did seem to work out in the end, but... Then they just ended up here, most of them.

"Yeah, that's the vibe I'm getting. It wasn't, like, bad but... could be better. Most people seem happier here though, at least." As happy as they can be, all things considered. The hold of her hand and brush of lips against her knuckles makes her smile. It's familiar, in a way that she remembers, but also just nice. Here, she's been more worried than usual about where she stands with some and for why but- The reassurance overall that she is still wanted is nice. That she can't deny.

"Aside from the brain parasites, I hope here is treating you alright too."

"All because of her," Rosie says, which- Maybe that's a bit insensitive. The woman didn't get much of Athena beyond what was said, but his feelings about her were complicated to say the least.

Though of all people, Rosie understands the desire to remove a part of one's soul in the midst of grief. To take away any of that pain. He was doing it for a more pragmatic reason, in the end, with the aforementioned corruption but still.

"I'm sorry," she offers, next. "That all that happened, I guess, but also just... that you had to do that in the first place?"

"Yes."

Though Lahabrea cannot say for certain how much of a sense for Athena Rosie will have gotten through his memories, he sees no reason to deny it either. Her ambitions, amplified though they may have been, had yet been the cause of all that had plagued both his soul and Pandaemonium itself.

"I cannot deny that I have wished it had not come to what it did."

Both in having to kill Athena and his choices afterwards.

"But I saw no other means by which to rid myself of that corruption. Regardless of my later decisions regarding that fragment of myself."

It may be but a seed of corruption, yes. But it is one that he cannot again rid himself of. Not short of repeating that which saw his soul split in the first place.

"Yeah... even what I got felt pretty bad. Whoever made you like that..."

He can still feel a phantom echo of his back squirming around, put together in a way that nature tends not to do. The main difference between Angeal and Dai here, as far as he can tell is, uh. Everyone who put part of themselves into making Dai who he is actually loved him...? You don't go around putting painful monster parts into people you love. He is definitely too tactful to say that part aloud.

"...They weren't good people, were they?"

He's going to learn Puff in the future? Now that's interesting. It's not exactly a common spell!

"Yes, that would make sense. There are many exceptional people here, but that doesn't mean they can all use magic! It seems to be an inherent ability of the dragons of this world, and now that extends to us, too." He frowns and crosses his arms. "It's too bad about the timing. Now's not a great time to be experimenting outside."

Turning into a dragon on purpose without knowing how big he'll be would be... inadvisable to do indoors.

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Page 22 of 27

EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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