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!

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"I don't," he confirms, easily. There isn't the usual dramatic cadence or misleading lull before he expounds in some strange fashion for theatrics. He just... doesn't remember.

"Although I'm not exactly sure what it is I'm forgetting either," the man adds. Noctis acts like he knows him. Of course, he'd hope that even if his brother took over as king that he'd still be remembered for his deeds someday. He figured it was just that; he was a footnote in the stories about Somnus' reign.

But Noctis is acting like he knows him, personally, and he isn't sure how that could be when he's talking about a distant future where Somnus - and by extension, Ardyn, he realizes - is his ancestor.

Well, she does actually appreciate that. Rather than hollow reassurances that she was fine, really, and it was okay- Sometimes, she just needed (and preferred) the truth. The ruffling is now reminiscent, yes, and so is the way she gives a little squeak in surprise for it probably.

"I'm a predictable bitch, apparently," she says. The use of 'bitch' might be a bit harsh but she does only mean it in the way of lightly making fun of herself. "I still worry about that sometimes, actually," she admits soon after thought to counter-balance it. "Like- I'm my own person, dang it! But if there are other 'me's out there, then- Am I really? Ugh." It makes her head hurt to think about it too much still.

"I guess it's nice though to know regardless though the people who stuck with me then will again. Well. At least you will. I couldn't fault anyone for not sticking around though. I was - and probably still am - a mess."

She'll definitely be singing more in coming months, hopefully, once she establishes her own little place to. While she'll host other bards as well, well- Hopefully, no one could fault her for taking the spotlight at her own inn now and again. For right now though, in this moment? It's nice to sing for just an audience of one. To know that her voice is appreciated and that it helps.

That's all she ever wants to do: help.

When she does, she ends in another soft hum to fade out the last couple of notes. "So! What did you think?"

"Yeah," she answers, at first. "It's not the same, but... Well! I get, maybe, also hoping that things wouldn't turn out as they did. Or wondering if there wasn't more you could have done?" She's trying to commiserate but not make it all about herself.

"For me, it was kind of... My partner back home could be difficult. Stubborn. Angry, even." She knows. She knew then, too, but it was easier to deal with when in the midst of things. It was also easier to deal with when it was just her. "It wasn't as bad when I first met him, but the longer things went on then the more stressed he got and the more he lashed out. I kept thinking I could do something to help or have things go back to the way they were but- I couldn't."

And she sometimes still wonders if that isn't a failing on herself, but- Again! This isn't about her.

"Which is kind of comforting sometimes, I guess is what I'm trying to say. Maybe things would have always ended that way? No matter what I did. And you did all that you could as it happened, which is all anyone could have and anything else might have not changed things either. I'm kind of rambling, I guess, but! I hope that helps a little."

All right, now he can applaud! Making noise feels like breaking a spell - trust him, he knows all about spells.

"I really liked it! That was amazing! It was sad, but in a good way?"

He wipes at his face in case he's been crying, which isn't actually the case this time. He will be at the inn on music nights.

There's a slow nod in answer from Lahabrea. Though he speaks of emotion rarely, and rarely as openly as has already been the case thus far, he can understand at least some of what she's trying to say. Of the point, generally speaking, of her offer.

"Many are the questions I have asked myself, only to be forced to leave them unanswered."

Which has been unsatisfying to say the least, even though he knows none would be expected to know the answer. Even should it be some small consolation to have that very same answer he knows he will not find.

"Never will I know if there could have been another path. One in which her ambitions were less consuming, or in which I had seen the truth sooner. I know only that the ambition that spurred her actions did not come from nowhere. That whoever else she may have been, that would have yet remained."

Be it for good or for ill.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first one." Angeal would be a whole ass liar if he said he didn't keep himself up at night sometimes, wondering about what versions of him weren't fucking up so badly. About what life might be like in at least two of the worlds he interfered in. Hopefully far less terrible.

But... "The thing about it, tho, is that it's a bunch of philosophical bullshit that we'll never really know the answer to," he tells her. Which he knows doesn't help too much. It's just the frustrating truth of the whole matter.

"And while it might tickle our balls a little bit, and drive us insane, you have to consider just how important it really is to the life you're living now. If it distracts you from the people you like and care about in the present, and if it affects the things you like to do." A softer head stroke. "No matter what, you're Rosie, who is going to be happy to plant flowers when the weather stops being terrible, and is gonna flirt with Slayd to get into his non-existent pants"

Or maybe she'll wear the pants he's not wearing, that can be a kink thing if they want it to be.

Either way, he smiles. "And I'll be here for you no matter what too. Even if you are the messiest bitch alive." Said in a similar light and teasing tone. "There's a lot to love about you, Rosie."

[ Avan scratches at the back of his head in embarrassment. ]

Aha, I found it in a book myself, so no credit is necessary!

"So you guys haven't yet created a creature as messed up as this yet," Angeal quips as he slides down a small hill, snow mildly melted in the trail he leaves. It'll freeze back up soon enough in this miserable weather. "Well, I guess that's a good thing in its own right."

Ugh... He huffs out a small breath of fire as they get close. "Wish it wasn't blowing like this... I could sniff 'em out if not for all this snow around." As it is, the bad weather is making it difficult for him to do any tracking. "I don't think they've cleared up all of the shrapnel around here. I don't really need to tell you to be careful, but I will anyway." As a show of care, if nothing else.

"If you were a squirming brain moved by tentacles, where would you hide?"

That sure is some deep insight there! Maybe Avan should talk about it! Instead of being squirrely about it!

Maybe on another day, it's the sort of thing Angeal would take an interest in. However, today, well... Today, he's just a little too stress to do much more than take note of it in the back of his brain while he rubs a hand over his mouth.

"...Well. I appreciate it. Sure you'll be alright after that blast? Don't want to leave you in a lurch."

Sure, he has to take care of the damned thing first, but also that's no excuse. He can multitask, or at least come back if something is really off.

Yeah. He wouldn't understand why it's such a big deal. Angeal doesn't answer him straight for a minute. All he does is grind and pinch at the bridge of his nose, like that will distract his brain from the pain. It's easing away bit by bit, but still. What a hit.

"...Sure." They'll just agree with that for now. Angeal suspects he's not prepared to handle Cloud's mental problems fully head on. Best to just... poke at things a little bit. See what exactly he can handle.

And since he already let it slip... Angeal straightens up with a low breath, steam plentiful and hot in front of his mouth from how hot he runs nowadays. "Anyway. Seemed like you did a lot of squats in that memory. Never see you do that nowadays, even though it seemed like a tic. Something you did all the time."

But he didn't, of course. That was all Zack. Always Zack, with excess energy no matter the occasion, who couldn't stand being told to wait, to hold back, who hit life with everything he had.

So what the fuck is happening here?

"Nothing that is prone to altering the memories of those it targets as prey, no."

Which is not to say that other creatures that have found their way either into testing or the halls of Pandaemonium haven't been dangerous in ways that many might find concerning at best. But in fairness, many of those are things that Lahabrea deals with regularly enough to find them to be not particularly out of the ordinary.

But the finer details of the creatures kept in Pandaemonium is something he is willing to leave unmentioned at the moment.

Instead, there's a nod at Angeal's warning. He is not without the ability to heal himself should he misstep, true. But he recognizes it for what it is.

"They do not appear to have any natural defenses against the cold. In which case they would likely seek to find somewhere either warm or otherwise protected against the worst of the elements."

Mithrun might be inclined to keep arguing, to push back himself, if it weren't for that brief silence. That means more to him, honestly, than the words.

Sure, it "only takes once". That's one thing. The weight of Angeal's hesitation in the moments between is quite another.

There's still a defensive edge to Mithrun's voice, when he answers. "What am I supposed to do about it?" He swallows - another thump of his tail in the snow. "I am already... I'm doing what I can."

He's pretty sure he is, anyway.

Slipping a hand around Angeal, Themis leans back into him with slightly lesser pressure. He is a firm pillar of support - not commenting on his being used often of late as a source of comfort. It was only to be expected, considering how he'd made of himself a bulwark, impenetrable to the creatures and their seeking of memories. That he was untouched came from skill and will and fervor combined, and he was glad to provide some measure of succor to those without a drive as intense as his.

"I do not know." His lips twist into a wan sort of expression. There was something to be said for how this situation had happened more than once to the two of them. "But it is why I have worked so fervently to avoid it myself. None should see what I have, least of all those not even to be called of age."

But it is not about him, right now. He sighs.

"It is a violation of the highest order. Not only that your memories have been once again peered into, but that they may be shared with others without you even knowing. It is... rather singular in its terrible nature."

Mithrun listens intently to Byleth's explanation, his own shortened ear flicking as though to imitate Byleth in checking in that direction.

"Of course... don't give them the chance to escape or attack." He looks down to the ground again, eyeing the snow - checking for any sign of movement under the surface. "If we can locate them, I could kill them with teleportation as well."

Aiming a teleportation spell somewhere he can't see is always risky - but less so when he's out to kill whatever is there, anyway.

That... was a sigh. Maybe even with a faint trace of exasperation? The absolute gall of this elf.

"That's just what I meant. Why give them the credit of treating their will as inevitability? You know enough to know better. And yet, you keep speaking of what was meant to be."

He casts the barest glance over his shoulder. "It was fate, or it was a decision. Choose one."

Mithrun may not know a whole lot about gods - but he's known something close to one. Something whose machinations were so expansive and seemingly inevitable, they could be mistaken for fate.

It never deserved that pass. Neither did these gods, in Mithrun's estimation. Neither did Ardyn, or Mithrun.

Normally, his early morning patrols are quiet, but he does them anyway, like clockwork. His last loop during this time of year means dawn’s light hasn’t yet broken over the watery edge of mist that clings to the edge of the town near the river. But the sky is starting to lighten, and so he checks one last time around some of the empty cottages for various nasty stow-aways. Lately, he’s been having to run down the wretched little brainlings plaguing their sleep, but he hasn’t come across one yet today.

Yet, being the keyword, because as he nears the cabins the others from his world share, a searing pain lances behind his eyes. Ravus bares his teeth, stumbling to a halt as the memory comes crashing down on him like a roaring avalanche.

There’s a pang of almost childish confusion, one that feels so foreign he knows it can’t be his own thoughts. It takes a moment to focus through the sudden change. And then, chaos.

But that feeling is familiar. In horrible, earth-shattering ways, he knows the screams of panic and pain, orders being called out over the roar of fire and singing of steel. The daemonic beast howling in the memory is not the same as the cold, hellish whirring of the MTs, but it’s a minor detail. In his own body, there’s a phantom pain in his magitek arm, where a bullet had struck him years and years ago. But it fades quickly, the foreign memory overpowering his own as the terror and fear whips up like a storm. The reek of blood burns his senses and the back of his throat, until it slows again. Slows and quiets until the memory is more of a dream, and fades with the dark pall of night giving way to dawn.

He shivers, right down to his tail tip, realizing what he’s seen. So when he comes around the corner of the next cabin, following skittering tracks, he’s not surprised to see Noctis there. His forlorn expression is in the glass, and Ravus slowly walks behind him so that the younger prince can catch his reflection there. Despite the jagged length of his tail, Ravus uses it to gently brush Noctis’ back as he comes around to his side, higher up, and closer to his shoulder, than nearer to the scar. The rest of him keeps close, just a wisp away from touching, but leaving that up to Noctis if he wishes for the gap to remain.

“You were always quiet back then; we never pushed you to relive the daemon attack from that day. No one wished to reopen a wound whose physical impact we could barely heal as is.” Ravus speaks low and soft, only the ghost of his breath in the cold giving away he speaks to anyone but them. “I would not have pried given the choice.” A beat, and Ravus looks to Noctis instead of his reflection. “Has it been bothering you more as of late?”

The next part must be done delicately, but honestly. Popp deserves the truth that Themis suspects. But it does not feel good to know that he will deliver such a blow. Though he knows Popp will perhaps not appreciate the style of comfort he's about to employ, far more fitting it is for one younger than the boy, his heart urges him to do so regardless.

And so he shushes Popp, softly. Brings a hand to stroke through unruly hair the way an adult would do to a frightened child. It's meant to calm, to soothe, though he does not linger in it overlong. The truth must be given, after all.

"From what I know of him, he may indeed suspect it to be, though not from any revelations from you - more the lack thereof. I am certain he knows that he was your mentor at some point, and could have drawn his own conclusions based upon that fact." What we do not speak of reveals more than what we do, he does not say.

I will do so regardless.

[His smile is cheeky.]

Definitely a chin, if nothing else, and it seems to do well enough with Angeal letting out a long heavy sigh that rolls out from his draconic throat rather than the little humanoid extension of himself which exists about the very edge of the 'snout' and makes up the upper half of his mouth in general.

"You would say that no matter what," he says, something which elicits a mixture of both fondness and some strange sort of despair. It means nothing and everything at the same time. Still, at least he has a second to pull himself together as Genesis turns back to the problem at hand. Speaking of hands... The two smaller ones at his snout-torso run across his face. It should feel more dizzying than it is, having two different sets of eyes, but it isn't. He closes the smaller pair anyway. Breathes in. His exhale sets out a large plume of steam.

"...It's one less worry taken care of, at least." His many legs shift in place, a sort of rocking against his mate. "Don't even know how - this happened. Hardly any warning."

You know, besides the monster going after his head.

"Yeah, it sounds like exactly what a guy like you would go with." Gladio doesn't actually roll his eyes, but the tone of his voice does it for him. "Two thousand years to cook, and the best you could do was burn. Except no, you're not even trying to do your best, because you know damn well what you're doing is stupid and petty and illogical, don't you? You could do better, be better with everything you've gone through, everything you are and everything you're capable of, and you just don't fucking want to."

He shakes his head. "And for what? To spite a guy who's thousands of years dead, by hurting a family he's never known and doesn't give a shit about? He didn't give a shit about the family he had that he did know, and who knows that better than you? Attacking your own bloodline for your own selfish reasons, killing Oracles...you're sinking to his level for nothing. For no payoff or justification except your own tortured logic that this is some grand gesture that somehow gets back at him. And deep down, you know that too. You've been around too long and aren't quite stupid enough that you can sell me on the idea that you believe your own bullshit. But you'd rather burn the world down for the lies you need to tell yourself than to look the truth in the face. And the truth is that the only reason you cause the harm you do is because you think you have a good enough excuse not to have to try to be anything better anymore. As if good is only something people who haven't suffered too much have the luxury to be."

Even while Gladio struggles, even while Ignis attacks the creature clinging to him...it's impossible for Gladio to miss that Iggy is attacking the damn thing with his teeth, and equally impossible not to fall in love with Ignis a little more for that. How could anyone else have a better partner than this? Who else would bite a tentacle like a feral animal to save him?

It's not something he lets distract him, of course - he can hardly afford, or manage, to be distracted from what's currently happening. It's just a little side note that, even under the circumstances, almost makes him laugh.

No doubt from Iggy's efforts, he feels the grip on the tentacle around his neck weakening, and without even thinking consciously about it, he changes his tactics. Iggy's damaged it, which means it has weak points now, a fact he incorporates instinctively as his hand closest to where Iggy wounded it shifts its grip to closer to where the wound(s) are. Then, rather than trying to pry it away from his neck - he simply holds the tentacle at those two separate points and pulls, with terrific force, in opposite directions.

The creature makes a horrible shrieking sound as, at one of the points of injury Iggy has inflicted on it, Gladio manages to rip part of its tentacle right off. It's hard to tell if it actually loses its grip because of this, or whether it lets Gladio go intentionally trying to get away, but it falls off him onto its back, legs flailing wildly as it tries to right itself.

What is new and unique to this world is the soft sound that starts up once Byleth begins his gentle ministrations. After the first few passes through scalp and hair a sound starts up from somewhere between Themis's chest and throat. It's soft at first, before turning into a rolling sort of thrumming.

Not a purr, not quite. Nor is it quite a rumble.

It's something halfway between the two, and though he does not cease it once he notices, there is a catch in Themis's breathing when he becomes aware of it. He does not tense, no, and it is obvious that his enjoyment of the scratching and petting has been made stronger by his draconic traits.

His cheeks color, and his voice comes as a whisper. "My apologies for the disturbance."

"That theory would make sense. Of those called to be here, no fair few could be deemed as champions in their own right - yourself included. Though we are diminished, there is no small amount of power coalesced into this small space we occupy."

He does not mention specifics beyond Dimitri and the way he implicates himself, but it is true. Warriors, super-soldiers, Ancients, to name a few of the types that have come to live in this place. It is a pleasant thought, that they have been called her for such a purpose. To help the world from tipping past some edge.

"Perhaps our limitations are a sort of integration. It took time for our draconic bonds to progress, after all." His wings give a small flick of movement at the words, and he takes a moment to scan their surroundings, eyes alert. "I should like us to be instruments of protection, of aide."

He probably should be insulted - he's sixteen, that's practically an adult man, but Popp is mentally all over the place right now. He takes a deep, shaky breath. He's not a kid, after all! He has to act like it, and solve his own problem here.

"So... I have to put him off track, then, don't I? I've got to start talking about how proud his future self's going to be when he sees how much I've improved, and it's going to feel awful."

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EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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music therapy for the soul!!

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Wrap?

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I ate'nt dead

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