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ph_logs2025-05-21 07:05 pm
pumpkinhollow) wrote in ph_logs2025-05-21 07:05 pm
Entry tags:
May Event - All Too Familiar
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.
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.
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.
no subject
"Well... I don't know what I was expecting, but that was a lot less in terms of resistance than I was ready for."
[He charges a trio of magic missiles and fires them at the crowd, the slow-moving green projectiles floating their way through the air before exploding on contact with their targets and eradicating five more of the enemies. Their progress accelerated in the face of direct opposition now, though, and they closed on the Golem.
The sigil Wizard had placed earlier flashed to life, slowing time for the undead entering it and reducing their progress to a snail's pace. His wood golem faced no such issues, however, and wasted no time in reducing the remaining eight ghouls to pulp.]
no subject
Grumpy that it's taking her longer than it should, she floats closer to the undead to cast Ice Cloud, which finally finishes them all off. The witch lands softly on the ground with her broom and lets out a sigh.]
... Is there more?
no subject
"It looks like there's scattered pockets of them pretty much everywhere, but that's all there is for direct threats at the moment."
[He lands back on the roof.]
"That's not to say that something couldn't draw their attention this way at any moment, or that the racket we just stirred-up isn't going to see us swimming in shambling townsfolk any minute now, but it seems the immediate danger has passed."
[Below them, the wood golem fidgets and stirs, bereft of targets but hungry for the fight.]
"I suppose we'd better shore-up the defences here again if we don't want them tearing all our work down around us. If this sort of thing is happening all over Pumpkin Hollow, though, there's no telling who else is in danger."
no subject
And here I was hoping for a more relaxed day... I do wonder how long this will take to remedy... and how long these zombies will remain down. We can't fight all day long...
no subject
[He taps his index finger against his lips as he considers their tactical options.]
"-I don't think any of those shambling whatevers we just put down pose even the remotest threat against the golem."
[Wizard glances around at the surrounding city suburbs before continuing.]
"We could likely leave him here while we go to help others, and he'd ensure the Arcanium remains intact. That is, if they're interested in property damage to begin with. Provided nothing stronger comes along he'd be able to ensure this crossroads became a graveyard. Alternatively, if we lock-up and head out there's a strong possibility they just completely bypass it, leaving us free to help others who've been caught in this shitstorm."
[Tucking his Grimoire back onto his belt, Wizard looks over to Sorceress for input.]
"What do you think?"
no subject
[She looks to the golem then out across the streets for a moment as she ponders.]
I suppose it wouldn't hurt to look to see if others need help.
no subject
"Of course not. Once the magic is expended to animate it it would take years for the spark to fade. I trust it's the same story for your skeletons because, if it's not, we're going to have a lot harder a time making use of all these bodies."
no subject
It's not quite the same, as it takes a bit more mental faculties for me to monitor them. If they're close by, it's as easy as you forming a golem, but if I'm away, it's a tad straining.
no subject
[He whips open his grimoire and refreshes the spell circle beneath the wooden construct.]
"If these replicants - let's call them - reflect the abilities of who they've replicated. If the copy bodies or raised corpses or whatever they are possess the skills of the individual then things could be considerably more dangerous depending on who's replicant we encounter."
[Scanning the array of crushed, burned, and shattered bodies the pair of them have left scattered around the crossroads, he nods to himself as if confirming something.]
"From what I could tell it was only commonfolk who made up the mobs we dealt with. Even if their abilities were reflected in-entirety there wouldn't be much to speak of. It's definiitely worth having our guard up if we encounter anyone who looks like they're extraplanar like we are."
no subject
[She looks out over the various corpses as Wizard spells out a worrying scenario.]
That is a terrifying thought... Can you imagine having to face ourselves? That's not something I wish to deal with after we've only been here for less than a month.
no subject
"Given the... less than mint condition of the mobs we just dealt with I would think that any copies of us would be in a similar state. Whether ressurections of previous deaths or simple imitations, I'd expect that they would be far from the capabilities or the original. A horde of us in the amount of the dozens of Mr. Aberdeen we just immolated could be an issue, but I hold that a matchup of original versus copy would be an utter mismatch."
[Taking to the skies, begins the journey towards the docks by floating over to the next rooftop.]
"Furthermore, if these things are in-fact drawn from the periods of time where each of us died then the only point for them to draw from is our arrival."
[He grins.]
"In which case, none of them would have staves or grimoires."
no subject
[Sorceress hops back on the broom, flying back up and following after her partner.]
Ah. Yes, without the focus points of our magic, they would be rather powerless, wouldn't they? That's good, at least... At least we can hope they conveniently wouldn't have staves or books...
no subject
[He takes to the skies again, floating with the wind in the direction of the docks.]
"More than a few of the people here have powers and special skills. If we were to encounter husks of someone like that it would, no doubt, be considerably harder to put them down. We should bear that in mind as we bunker down."
no subject
[ She follows after him, keeping pace as best she can, but also watching the view of the town below. ]
I wonder what caused this...