May Event - All Too Familiar

[pumpkinhollow]

May Event - All Too Familiar

Content Warnings: Walking dead, character deaths, potential for gore | Special Thanks to Meghan and Kalineh

It was a fine spring day when mysterious letters began cropping up all over Pumpkin Hollow. Letters whose apparent senders do not remember writing them, whose recipients or discoverers were harmed by reading them. Eventually these mysteries, though still unsolved, come to a quiet halt as stealthily as they began, but not before a mail carrier in a cowboy hat trots out to Elsie’s tree with a letter in hand, unmarked aside from being addressed to her.

She gleefully rips open that letter, hoping it's another message from her father. It isn't and, at first, she's crushed. But only until she starts to actually read it.

Elsie,

River la Croix has been hiding something in her forge for a while now. It is called the Book of the Dead. In its pages are hundreds of spells from across time and space with the power to give life to those no longer with us.

Your father is doing his best to revive your mother. But this island’s barrier is blocking his will, resisting his magic. I can no longer watch you suffer in solitude when a solution exists. All you have to do is decipher the text, and its powers are yours. Your mother will be returned to you.

River does not want to part with it. She will become suspicious of you if you ask, and it will become harder to acquire it. You will have to take it without her notice by levitating it out of her forge. She, like many others, is fearful of the Book’s power. This fear isn’t entirely unwarranted for them, but for you, your connection to the Feywilds’ magic will be enough to grant you access to that otherworldly power.

Good luck, and all my love to your dear mother when she returns.

Fond regards,
A friend

Could this be it? Could this be the miracle she's been waiting for? Hope swells painfully in her chest as she clutches the note close. She mustn't celebrate too early. She still needs to get the book. At least her mysterious friend has already told her where to find it. Her jaw sets in a look of determination, and she speeds away into the dusk.

It doesn't take long to reach the forge. River has defended it well, but Elsie slips into her own shadow and sneaks beneath the door without so much as a whisper of sound. Only her hand extends from the puddle of shadow on the floor inside, like a disembodied arm hovering before the flames. Mustering her will, she reaches out to the ancient book and commands the winds to lift it. Sweat beads her shadowy brow while she concentrates, the flames flicker and dance around the slowly levitating book. Just a little more, a little more… There!

It's heavy in her hand, and remarkably cool to the touch despite having been pulled from the fire. She retracts her arm and the book back into her shadow and slips out the way she came. Her heart thumps in her chest as she races back to the safety of her tree. To her mother, who will soon be able to wrap flesh and blood arms around her like she once did. All that's left now is to read. Her friends have been teaching her how. Her mother will be so proud of her.

Carefully now, she opens the book, feeling her skin crawl as a sudden unease grips her very core. No, she will not be deterred. The language is unlike any she's ever seen. The letters, if indeed they can be called that, feel jagged and painful to her mind. Still, she will Not Give Up. She screws her eyes shut, thinks of her mother, and holds tight to her desperate hope to be reunited.

When her eyes reopen to behold the page before her, understanding strikes like lightning. Suddenly, she knows she can speak the words. As they escape her mouth, an unknown magic swells into the space around her, then beyond her. The ground shakes. The air turns foul. And as the trinkets in Elsie’s tree chime together in the unsettling breeze, ringing out with notes more sour than usual, it quickly becomes clear that the advice she received was not from any friend.

The forms of people begin to pry themselves loose from the ground all over town, as if emerging from water, leaving the ground unbroken as they lift themselves out of the ground. They bear horrid injuries, shambling along grotesquely, telling a story of death. However, these are not skeletons from the graveyard, housing the souls of long-dead locals. These are things of flesh and blood, however exposed they might be, wearing newer faces.

Much newer.

Since the barrier went up, many people have died, only to have their bodies vanish and replaced by a new one. Those bodies now walk the town, seeking to unleash a wrath brought on by the corrupted magic of the Necronomicon. Anyone who has died inside the barrier will have a violent, undead copy of themself representing each death wandering the island looking to increase their ranks. Which means that there will be many, many, many Yoricks.

Destroyed copies will remain destroyed for the standard overnight period of any other person. But there are too many of them to defeat this way, and their destruction is impermanent. Thankfully, help is on the way!

In the midst of the undead and their attack on the citizens of Pumpkin Hollow, tiny glimmers of hope appear in the form of folded paper birds. The little gold birds flit from fighter to fighter, small whispers promising that if enough enemies can be felled then the High Priestess can intervene. The necessary number is unknown, but if a bird alights upon someone, they will feel their weariness vanish for a short time, and perhaps, should she feel like it, they may receive a temporary boon to use against the undead.

Eventually the High Priestess will show herself, making good on the promises of the little birds. With a smile, her magic will wrap around the remaining undead, returning them to the unseen graves and binding them into Death once more, leaving the living to pick up the pieces.

Comments

Cassandra de Rolo | Critical Role | OTA & closed

[not_the_last]

1. oh fear is a liar with a smooth and velvet tongue (closed to Okie)

When the first news comes to the shop -- someone shouting through the door, customers crying out in alarm and hurrying to leave -- Cassandra finds herself standing at her desk, frozen.

The dead, rising. No. No. No.

2. oh shame is a prison as cruel as the grave (Greymare Library)

It's only once they reach the safety of Greymare Library that Cassandra realizes she hasn't thought to check on anyone else's safety. She finds a quiet corner, and does her best to ignore the internal castigating voice as she pulls out her sending stone to contact people. Crichton, Phil, Helena, Fever, Valdis, Max; others as their names occur to her, as she realizes she hasn't seen their faces yet.

[If you've had any CR with Cassandra, feel free to tag with her contacting you by stone or handwave that it happened! Alternatively, if your character is at the library, you may run into her here.]

3. love is my weapon, gonna take my giants down (outdoors)

Once word comes in that killing the undead will do something, Cassandra feels that she has to try. (Is she making up for earlier cowardice? Surely that's no one else's business.)

In company or on her own, with several daggers and her magic boots and belt from the casino shop, and a bag for gathering supplies while she's at it, she ventures out into the town. If she can take down undead and have them stay down, and that will hasten the chances of making them all go down ... well, that'll be some good work she can do, won't it.

[Have your character patrolling with Cass or running into her by chance. Or, by arrangement, have your undead character cross her path!]

4. ain't no grave can hold my body down

Wildcard!

oh fear is a liar

[mistertwister]

The door to Cassandra's office is thrown open almost immediately. Okie stands in the doorway, taking off and discarding the coat of his work uniform and grasping at the rings on the chain at his neck, readying himself to release the magical half-plate she bought for him.

"Move or fortify? Either way we can grab whatever might be useful from here or my apartment. Any chance you come to work armed?"

[not_the_last]

The sight of Okie, the sound of his voice, steadies her like very little else could.

"Move," she says, as decisively as though terror hadn't held her immobile seconds ago. "I don't think we can get to the manor --" and no warning this time, she notes, isn't that interesting -- "if there are already undead in the streets, so maybe Town Hall or the library if they're still secure."

She's starting to move as she speaks, closing her ledgers and gathering her jacket and handbag. "No serious weapons, but I've got my boots and belt, and a few daggers. If you have a shortsword or rapier upstairs ...?"

[mistertwister]

Okie reaches a hand behind what's real and pulls out his axe. "Unfortunately I don't buy many swords these days, so you'll have to stick with what you've got. I'm gonna see about grabbin' some thicker fabric, case we end up wantin' for bandages."

He turns halfway out the door, pauses, and says with a smile, "Y'know, a few daggers is still more steel than your average accountant brings to work."

[not_the_last]

"Bandages," she says, "good thinking. Linen or cotton's good for that."

And to that last she quirks a smile of her own. "Is it? I'm learning so many new things in this job."

Her mind's clear, as he steps out to collect supplies and she finishes gathering up her own things. Cold and walled-off, in a way that she knows means she's going to have to deal with the suppressed panic later, but clear. This isn't the risen undead of her nightmares; this is something else, and they'll figure it out.

[mistertwister]

It doesn’t take Okie long to activate his armor and bundle up a load of scrap cotton. He places himself as often as possible between Cass and the door, and keeps the axe in his hand. The most important seconds in a conflict are the first.

“Wish we had a better idea what we’re up against. We wanna figure it out or just bolt for more hands?”

[not_the_last]

"Get to safety first," she says without hesitation. "Once we're there, maybe someone will know, and if not then we'll have a base to scout from."

It's tactically sound. If it's also motivated primarily by self-preservation, well, arguably that's also tactically sound.

(And saved from true selfishness, possibly, by the unthinking inclusion of Okie's safety in that calculation.)

[ss_buttcrack]

Crichton sounds like he could cry with relief from the other side of the sending stone. "Cass! Thank God. Are you somewhere safe?"

[not_the_last]

Her own eyes sting at that sound in his voice. "Yes, I'm with Okie, we're at the library. Are you?"

[ss_buttcrack]

"Oh, good, I'm glad he's with you." Okie will guard her with his life.

"Safe isn't in my job description, Cass. I'm out on the front lines trying to thin the herds. Coincidentally, I'm headed in your direction. I heard there's a group of Yoricks in the vicinity. You better keep everyone inside."

[not_the_last]

Cassandra's voice goes -- not sharp exactly, but crisp, businesslike. "Understood. I'll let everyone know. Crichton, I'm not going to ask you to stay safe, but come back."

[ss_buttcrack]

He winces at the change in tone and feels guilty as hell for causing it, but he can't take back what he said when it's the truth. He put himself on the hook willingly this time.

"I'm coming back. I promise you, I am. I'll call you before sundown." If he doesn't, well, he'll call her the next day.

"Try not to worry too much, huh? You know what I always say. Can't keep a good man down." Does he always say that, though...?

Drive-By

[maximumcake]

Max answers his sending stone when she calls. He's just as relieved to hear that she is safe, and he reassures her that he's keeping well out of danger at the Baker Ranch.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine out here. Make sure you stay safe, too. Okay?"

[not_the_last]

"I will. My word on it. We'll stay in contact."

She'll be messaging each safehouse at least once or twice a day while this lasts, making sure that if anything has gone wrong, they'll hear about it.

driveby (shame is a prison)

[goodweather]

“I’m safe, I’m safe,” he says immediately by way of greeting. Of course he knows. “I’m bunkering down at the farmhouse. Have to stay with the kids. If you see a giant mean winged bird that looks like me, just know he’s got hollow bones.”

… Wait, right.

“What about you? Safe? I’ll come get you if you’re not—”

[not_the_last]

"I am," she says at once, "we are, I'm with Okie, we're at the library. It should hold up against the undead, it did during the Blight. There's a good few people here, and more still coming in. Is everyone there all right?"

[goodweather]

"Yeah, yeah, we're all fine. No injuries, got enough food and water for a while, and even if we don't, I'm... probably mobile enough to get stuff from town. Either that or carry all the kids to one of the actual safehouses. That's probably safer."

What with all three of them bristling with sharp metal pointy bits and all.

"Do you know what's going on? I mean, zombies obviously, but why?"

[not_the_last]

"No idea yet. It might be one of the remaining demons, or ... someone playing games with necromancy." The faintest edge to her voice, for a moment. "Once most of the town is out of immediate danger, we can start looking into the cause."

[goodweather]

"It's always one of those two, isn't it. You'd think they're having a clearance sale or something," he intones sardonically. A faint nudge at a joke as he hears the tone in her voice.

"I'm sure it's gonna turn up soon. They always do. Give it a few days, or hell, a few hours. I don't expect to see or hear anything all the way out here, but I'll let you know if I do."

2, driveby.

[abhorrently]

Thankfully, some people still have their sending stones with them.

Helena's nervous but calm, letting Cassandra know that she's safely inside the farmhouse and with no intention of stirring foot outside of it until this is over, that she'll check in later to ask how the library is faring.

Fever, by contrast, makes her intentions clear - she's out helping thin the herd, making sure there's a force fighting back, and this is something her talents are far better suited for dealing with than sitting in a safe house. But when rest must be had, she's relocated to Town Hall for protection. She promises she won't join the ranks of the undead.

a prison as cruel as the grave

[not_a_traitor]

The good news: someone finally found an ice pack for Gaeta's head. The bad: that coincided with Mulcahy's departure to resume his supply runs.

If Gaeta's going to deal with a concussion and -- well, everything else -- on top of a zombie attack, he ought to take advantage of any quiet corners while he still can. So eventually, he finds himself in the same spot as the slight, self-possessed woman he vaguely recognizes, in the way you come to recognize familiar faces in a small town. Rather than nod hello, he lifts his free hand in an absent gesture, sinking into the nearest available chair with the ice pack still pressed to his head.

[not_the_last]

She nods back to the young man she vaguely recognizes, says a last few words into her speaking stone, and puts it away.

"Are you all right?" she asks him.

[not_a_traitor]

"I will be." He grimaces a little, shifting the ice pack. "It's just a concussion, I think. Could be worse."

A pause; then, drier, "Ask me again when I haven't slept in twenty hours, though."

[not_the_last]

"There should be somewhere here to sleep," she says, "I know they were setting up bedrolls. In the basement possibly?"

A beat. "I haven't taken advantage of it yet myself."

[not_a_traitor]

"Not until I know this -- " another slight gesture of the ice pack -- "isn't getting worse."

Sure, don't sleep if you're concussed is an old wives' tale, but Gaeta's just paranoid enough not to risk it.

He frowns a little. "Have we met properly?"