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.

code

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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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Mithrun agrees: This is great for their goal here! So, he sees no reason to throw off the strategy by approaching Popp and risking tipping off their prey.

He keeps to his part of the strategy, staying overhead and keeping an eye out - until he catches sight of another Devourer creeping toward Popp.

This one... that's far enough off from Popp, he thinks. He snaps off a branch, and casts. ...Hopefully, his aim and his estimation of the distance are both right.

Popp doesn't even need to run away from the psychic explosion this time, even if he does yelp and jump into the air out of reflex. He takes a deep breath, lands, and wrestles his dumb cold-susceptible wings back under his skin where they belong. He doesn't even need them to fly, come on...

"Huh. He's actually kind of reliable! Nice shot!"

He yells those last couple words so he's sure to be heard. Mithrun can also have some praise, for morale, even if he has a terrible personality and will not reciprocate.

...He knows it's that teleport trick again but it really does look like he threw a tree branch too fast to be seen and landed a killing blow...

For some time, Mithrun keeps proving to be pretty reliable. With Popp apparently on his own, the IDs certainly seem more willing to approach, and Mithrun keeps picking them off - one by one, most of the time, but the occasional group isn't much more of a problem. Three branches teleported into walking brains don't take a lot longer than one.

As the hunt wears on, sending those branches into their targets takes... slightly more effort, of course. A little more at a time, as always when he's using a lot of magic without much of a break. Mithrun adjusts without even noticing, brushing off the pressure in his chest and spots in his vision without a second thought.

At a point, though... one cast proves to be one too many. The branch pops into place, slightly off but still embedded-- and then there's a crunch and thump some distance away, the muffled sound of a body falling to the ground.

They're doing great - Popp does kind of wish he were playing a more impressive part than bait. At least his delicious magic brains are as much of a delectable lure as he purported them to be. They've landed into a nice routine, and despite the brains, Popp is not thinking of this as something that costs stamina, since that's not how it works for him. If Mithrun were running out, he'd say something, obviously. Yeah, Popp wouldn't, but he's not a professional, he's a kid who only kind of technically graduated.

The thump is quiet, and interrupts the various inadequacy spirals that happen whenever Popp has too much time to think. He's a little alarmed. Did something else sneak up? That sounded a little heavy for a Devourer.

"...Mithrun? Hey! What was that?!"

Mithrun manages, at least, to push himself up on one shaking arm, his other hand clutching the front of his coat. Suddenly, his head is spinning. His chest feels constricted.

Something is wrong.

His ears twitch toward the direction of Popp's voice. Answering will give up any illusion that Popp is on his own-- but that ship may already have sailed. Furthermore, if he doesn't respond, the kid may well assume that nothing has changed, and he still has Mithrun backing him up.

Mithrun drags in a ragged breath, and calls back. "We need t-"

Something crunches in the snow by Mithrun. His gaze flits to the approaching Devourer, and he pries his hand away from his chest to grab for... anything. The nearest branch broken away by his fall. He snatches it from the ground and casts.

He was aiming for the ID, of course, but, honestly, who knows where it actually goes. Not like Mithrun will be conscious to see it, after forcing a spell on the last dregs of his mana.

The most important part of that reply was the way it cut off in a hurry! For better or for worse, Popp's quick to act in times of danger, and immediately flies at top speed in the direction of Mithrun's fading voice just in time to get a branch right through his arm. He crashes with a yelp, putting him outside of the ID's threat range long enough for it to get its tentacles exactly where nobody but the ID wants them to be.

This is far from an incapacitating wound by Popp's standards, and he shows up properly to the rescue complaining about Mithrun's aim and also his audacity at stealing Popp's role as the bait, not that he minds fighting but you could have given him a heads up, for crying out loud...

Look, there's smarter ways to do this but first of all he is panicking a little bit because this is very alarming to watch and he would like it to stop, second of all shut up, third of all it's not like the side effects have been that bad just crazy painful for a bit with some emotional trauma every single time - fourth of all see point two, again, he's... not blasting it away with the strongest explosion he's got because it's on Mithrun's head, actually! He's not that reckless!

What he does do is turn his forearms into dragon claws and tears into it like a wet paper bag, which is super gross and not actually the grossest dragon mauling he's been party to! It does start strangling his fellow idiot wizard in retaliation, but a mouth full of paralytic poison takes care of that and lets Popp finish the job!

(...Some may have gotten on Mithrun. It's. It's fine. He's already unconscious he probably won't notice...)

That's fine, for sure. Not like he was going anywhere for a while, as it is.

Unable to fight back, the Intellect Devourer only briefly manages to twitch and spasm before going limp, easy to finish off - and at least Popp already knows to brace himself when it bursts.

Mithrun sits on the floor of a dimly-lit hallway, its walls lined with grimy, cracked frames that may have once held paintings or mirrors. Someone kneels behind him, a hand on his shoulder. Something looms in front of him. It has the head of a lion, though adorned with thick, curved horns. Its body is like a man's, albeit covered in golden fur. It towers, taller than any human, muscular arms wrapped around its chest. A young woman with long, tapered ears and golden hair huddles under its bulk behind a half-dozen gleaming golden wings.

The awed, horrified whispers behind Mithrun hardly garner his attention - but for one. Two words that ring in his mind with more force than anything else. "A demon."

The winged lion - the demon - yawns and stretches, as though just awoken. Its gaze sweeps over Mithrun, or maybe just over the area he's crouched in, pushing into a kneel, and it speaks. "It's been so long since I've tasted freedom... but it looks like now is no time to be lounging around. What shall you have us do, Marcille?"

The woman in its hold startles and looks up at it, wide-eyed. She protests, but Mithrun's attention stays locked on the lion. He rises to his feet, pushing from under the hold of the person crouched behind him, as the demon responds. "Let me explain it to you once more. I am merely a source of power. I can do nothing without someone to wield that power."

Marcille just starts to answer: "Someone to wield your power... which means--"

Mithrun takes off at a run.

His hand flies out to brush over the cracked frames lining the wall, each appearing half-embedded in the demon's body - its wing, its shoulder, one bisecting its face. One severs a horn. In a blink, Mithrun is above the demon and the woman. He snatches the broken horn from the air and brings it down. It pierces flesh - the demon's massive hand, held between Mithrun and Marcille.

Mithrun hisses through his teeth. The demon (wood and glass still embedded down the center of its muzzle, its own horn skewering its hand) looks at him with round, unassuming eyes. His stomach turns. "Hey, now. She's still just an ordinary adventurer, you know. That's against the rules."

He rips the frame from its face and casts. It reappears between the demon's head and shoulders, and that head slides and thumps to the ground. Mithrun drops a thick sheet of flesh, Marcille shrieks as he reaches for her - and that other broad, golden hand blocks his way. The demon's voice rumbles from the flat stump of its neck. "You're really not getting the message, are you?"

Mithrun's heart hammers behind his ribs, and he tears his cape free of his shoulders. "You're a manifestation of the infinite. If I can't kill you, then I have no other choice, you bastard."

The demon scoffs, even as Mithrun whips his cape over his head. The fabric embeds itself across the demon’s shoulders and chest. He rips it free. He casts, and a wing drops to the ground. He casts. The demon loses a hand. A leg. Bits and pieces and sheets of flesh fall away, but it only takes seconds after he casts for golden feathers to bloom from the wounds, regenerating as fast as Mithrun can do damage. Voices shout behind him, but he pays them no mind - not until an array of thick, earthen spikes burst from the ground, piercing through the demon's body.

Things change quickly, from there - a seeming turn of the tides, as those accompanying Mithrun focus their efforts. The demon momentarily immobilized. The woman who had hidden in its grasp running, injured but moving. Mithrun breaks off one of those spikes. It disappears from his hand, replaced by flesh and bone, and the woman staggers and falls.

He teleports just a few feet away from her. There is no malice in his voice when he speaks. "Just give up. There's no way your wish was ever going to be fulfilled."

He stoops down and reaches for her, his hand about to settle on the back of her neck. Marcille whips around, teeth gritted and green eyes sharp, to grip his wrist, and she calls out to the lion. "I'll become the lord of the dungeon!"

Dread drops in Mithrun's stomach. Everything is overtaken in blinding light.

There’s pressure around Mithrun’s ribs. The demon is before him again, intact. Marcille sits on its arm, uninjured, wide-eyed. “Well, then. With this, I am at your service, Marcille.” Its tone brightens, as though it weren’t gripping Mithrun in one hand. As if he hadn’t been tearing it apart seconds before. “What shall we begin with? A new outfit? A remodel of the dungeon?”

Before Marcille can fully answer, the demon’s grip tightens, and Mithrun’s ribs creak, pain shooting up his sides as he strains to breathe. “Ahh, yes. Getting rid of your enemies comes first, huh?”

Marcille protests, and it doesn't squeeze any tighter. They go back and forth. Mithrun’s ears are ringing, cold sweat rising on his skin from something beyond the restriction of his breath by the demon’s hand. There’s a flurry of activity, others trying to take down the woman or the demon or both - and, very suddenly, it stops. Behind Mithrun, there are shrieks and protests; with whatever the demon is doing drawing its attention, he manages to drag in a breath, to force his focus enough to catch a complaint from Marcille. The demon huffs back that it's what she wanted. Mithrun struggles, and gets nowhere.

More sounds - something cracking and tearing, and even more terrified screams. Mithrun manages to twist just enough to catch sight of something - what looks like a spider, if one were to replace its head with that of a plush bear, descending on a small woman with short-cropped hair and long, notched ears. He barely glimpses more of the same carnage further down the hall - more elves, each dressed in similar tunics and silken armor, unconscious or trapped by more of the spider-bear-things.

Marcille asks to retreat (something, if Popp catches it through the haze of distraction and exhaustion clouding Mithrun's memory, about stopping someone from decomposing), and panic rises in Mithrun's chest again - even before the demon's free hand settles over Marcille, blocking her view.

Its gaze shifts to Mithrun once more. The longest it's bothered to look at him. Mithrun's throat goes tight. "Until we meet again, Mithrun."

Mithrun starts to protest - and with a swing of its arm, the demon hurls him against the stone floor.

It’s only with a last-minute cast that Mithrun lands-- elsewhere. Somewhere other than splattered on the ground. He’s surrounded by some kind of thick fluid, and his already-struggling lungs protest. He waits as long as he can - until he hears new voices, two men and a woman. Until he doesn’t think he can force himself not to inhale any longer. He feels for an opening, pushes, and tears free, dragging in a pained breath as he breaks free of his hiding place. Someone screams, and he doesn’t even look - just lurches to his feet, muscles protesting every movement.

He forces a step forward, and another, and warm hands grip his wrist. Mithrun stops in place and turns. He’s face to face with a young man, this one with short, rounded ears, dark hair and wide blue eyes. Mithrun’s voice rasps in his throat. “Let go.”

“Where are you going? We need to take a minute to recover and regroup.”

“Right now, when she’s just become a dungeon lord, is when she’ll be easiest to kill.” He pulls against the man’s grip, to no avail. “She’ll be harder for us to deal with with each minute that passes.”

He looks almost concerned. “Even so, it’s impossible to do anything in your state. You’re on the verge of running out of mana.”

Mithrun pulls away, his sights locked down the hall in the direction the demon disappeared. “There’s no time--”

The man’s hold releases, for just a moment - and then there’s an arm around his throat, and Mithrun is pinned between his chest and hips and the flat expanse of the wall. Mithrun protests, but the man only pushes harder. His arm tightens around Mithrun’s throat, and dark spots bloom over his vision.

His words fade, distant, as Mithrun's overtaxed body gives out and the memory goes dark. “If you can’t avoid this, then you don’t stand a chance of beating a demon.”

Popp comes back to himself with a yelp, wheezing in great gulps of air that his body hasn't actually been deprived of. Ohh, that was a lot to take in. On one hand it's nice to know he's not the only one who has had to deal with dark lord sorts of people before, on the other... that woman, Marcille, she was really scared, and wasn't even fighting back, not until she thought she was going to die! She didn't seem evil at all, while Mithrun came off as a huge asshole, but also the massive lion demon didn't exactly seem like it had heroic motives in protecting the woman! Also adding to his confusion are the post-memory headache, which he is getting a little too used to, and also all the pointed ears on most of those people. What was Mithrun doing hanging out with a bunch of scrawny Darklings... or elves, possibly, apparently they are similar?

He can fix one problem his head is having with a painkilling nectar lozenge, but not any of the others. He's fretting!

"Mithrun... you're always really intense, but you're not... evil, right?"

Siiigh. This isn't really a fair question to ask someone unconscious. Even if he is, what's Popp going to do about it? Not drag him back to safety? That'd be pretty awful itself! They're on the same side right now, even if the guy's got some sort of sinister past. People can change! Step one, get him out of the snow. He's carried heavier people than this, although that won't stop him grumbling as he flops Mithrun's arm over his shoulder and heaves him upright. Ow, ow... Let's do the other shoulder, actually, the one without a branch through it.

"You've had a lot of practice being a pain in the neck, huh?"

He's not sure about that blue-eyed man, either! Sometimes you've got to be harsh with your friends for their own sake, but... Popp considers some of the things he said in the dungeons in Teran, and Maam taking Dai out with a blow to the skull in Papnica, and just about everything Matoriv has ever done to and for him... Yeah, never mind. Mithrun's weirdly good at making friends for someone with his personality. That's why they're going to the bakery.

Mithrun stays limp for a good bit of the walk back, the dead weight of his tail dragging in the snow behind them. Hopefully, Molik's icy influence will help to mitigate any potential frostbite.

The first sign when he does wake up is a somewhat deeper, consciously strained breath and a shift of the arm over Popp's shoulder. It's probably fortunate that he doesn't try to pull away - no reason to, at the moment. The second sign is a croaked question: "The Devourer?"

They're walking and not flying because Popp's very aware that he needs to calm down but also because now he's thinking about magic overuse and is perhaps overcompensating...

"I killed it as fast I could. It, uh, blasted your memories out all over the place, though, sorry about that."

His voice starts off light. He's pretty business casual about fighting to the death if he can't see any gray areas, after all. But...

"Did you... ever kill that dungeon lord, you called her? Marcille?"

Even with time to think about what he's going to say, Popp is not a subtle person. He's worried, all right, he doesn't want to spend any more time looking at Mithrun's face and wondering if he's ever beheaded an unarmed woman. Maybe she was more armed and dressed in some sort of spiky black evil sorceress outfit by the time he caught up...?

It's dead. Alright. That's the part that matters - though, the reminder that its death came with an outpouring of some memory or other of Mithrun's raises the question of which one. Some of that, he's pretty sure Popp shouldn't be seeing.

At least he gets his answer pretty quickly, and it is... not as bad of one as it could have been, sounds like. At least there's that. Mithrun exhales - hard to say if he relaxes at all, seeing as how he's already hanging limply over Popp's shoulder. His muscles are just... not really listening to him.

"No. I didn't."

...Popp isn't fully wrong about Marcille's state next time he saw her, though.

How much of that floppiness is brain-related and how much is lingering dragon poison and how much of it is Mithrun having the exact same problem he had in his memory... Popp knows what he would prefer it to be.

And at least he's not carrying a murderer through the snow! Or at least not a murderer of one very specific person who maybe should die in an honorable battle at worst? The demon is also concerning.

"Is she... um, is it going to be a hard fight? She didn't seem that aggressive."

Don't... don't worry about how many people Mithrun may or may not have killed prior to ever meeting that one woman, Popp. It's fine.

"...It isn't a matter of 'going to be'." He would shrug, if he could. "She got... more aggressive, rather quickly. I lost."

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."

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.

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?"

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."

This close, it's probably pretty easy to feel Popp's heart rate spike. Whether Mithrun actually cares that it does is a separate matter.

Oh. That... makes a lot of things about Mithrun make sense, if he gave into evil and then was pulled out of it. Of course he'd be subdued in personality, that's guilt, isn't it? Of course he'd go in as hard as possible if he's trying to make up for his actions!

Popp's seen his magic in action, he would have been an absolute terror as a true villain! Once he gets his hands on someone and wants them dead, that seems to be it... Whatever circumstances brought him down alive and admitting the error of his ways must have been wild.

And he has seen the error of his previously wicked ways! That means a lot more to Popp than his past actions. Finding this out is definitely worth the sore shoulder he's going to have from lugging him around in the snow.

"So that's why you get so worked up about all this monster stuff, why it's the only time I've seen you worked up at all..."

Popp resolves to put some extra work into recreating Glimmer. Having it around would be good for everyone's peace of mind and he wants to be supportive.

"And that's why you're willing to fight until you pass out just like this, huh? It's a huge pain to deal with, but I can't hate that kind of determination."

He is trying to sound ~cool~, as someone who has possibly been on the other end of being hauled around clean out of magic much like this.

That Popp would be shocked at Mithrun's past is no surprise; even if he isn't from Mithrun's world, wouldn't know as much as even the most uninformed party about the implications of Mithrun's past as a dungeon lord, he has no doubt gathered enough from what he has seen.

...Mithrun, of course, is not privy to how much more Popp extrapolates from there, but that is another issue entirely. In fact, the conclusions Popp actually voices seem perfectly reasonable to him, even if not perfectly accurate. "Not really a matter of determination... but, yes."

"You're still prett~y bad at teamwork, though! I'm also a mage, you know? We could've switched out before you tipped over."

Popp can't do any comical impressions of Mithrun passing out because he's being hampered by all this Mithrun on his shoulder. If he goes down right now he might very well be staying down.

"I mean, I'm also used to being the only one in the party who can do all that stuff, but you're much older and way more experienced than me, Mithrun! Shouldn't you be setting a good example?"

Whining to a captive audience is an acceptable substitute for stupid jokes. Popp might not want to admit it, but this is also a way of letting Mithrun know that he doesn't hold his dark and tragic past against him, it's all about the very recent past and also the future!

"Didn't know I'd do that." Not because it's never happened before, because it super has, as Popp has seen - but, you know. He didn't know!! Anyway: "I doubt I'd have been as effective as bait, though."

Rude, Mithrun - though, hey, maybe it could be taken as a compliment? Maybe?

He also, just, grunts noncommittally at the suggestion that he should set a better example. "Then don't take me as an example. If I have advice to give, I'll give it."

"Hrmmmm. So you don't have any advice at all."

A new conclusion is drawn, alongside the grumbling. Mithrun... might be stupid?

Yes Popp does this all the time also but STILL.

He's connected the dots. Popp is kind of... blatantly a dumbass, frequently, and loudly. Someone with Mithrun's taciturn personality can be very similar and have it go unnoticed!

"Well, I guess we'll have to look out for each other out here."

"I do."

It's just usually couched in vague, ominous statements, but, y'know.

But, no, he has zero advice on this particular situation, that's definitely true.

For now, though... "Nn. Do you have your stone?" He wonders if this might be what people may consider a "call for help" type of situation...?

EVENT #2: BRAIN BOGGLING

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big spoilers of course, also violence/body horror

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