🏝️ dulces sueños group excursion! 🏝️

[hearthwarming]

🏝️ who: intrepid adventurers (vacationers?) and more!
🏝️ what: ori organized (origanized?) a group trip to the resort! mass memshare ensues.
🏝️ when: fall 9-10
🏝️ where: dulces sueños resort
🏝️ warnings: threads will be marked as needed for memshares.

[ Hopefully everyone had fun on the Arco Lunar! The morning after the boat departs from the docks, a letter arrives to your mailbox: ]

Hello, intrepid adventurer!

I am excited to have you along for a group excursion to the mysterious new island! In two days' time, let us gather in the town square and set off from there! Please be prepared to stay the night. It will be so fulfilling and memorable for everyone to spend a night on an adventure together!

If you have any questions or concerns, please come find me at my flower shop in town or at the forest farm where I live!

Sincerely,
Oriphi

[ If she accidentally delivered it to a few wrong mailboxes, then... Oops!

On the promised day, once everyone (and likely a few surprise tag-alongs) has gathered or been gathered, Ori distributes little paper bags of snacks to everyone. Inside are cookies, oat snacks, and a freshly-picked apple from her and M-21's orchard. Do with them as you please... Just don't let her catch you throwing it into the sea or something. 🥺 ]

Alright. I think we should head out, then! Thanks for coming along, everyone! I hope it'll be a great time. Oh, and please don't forget to drink plenty of water and use this incredible ointment I discovered on this island! It's called "sunscreen!" Tieflings don't really get sunburnt, but you should use it!

[ And with that our intrepid adventurers set off to the mysterious, dangerous, unknowable... resort island! ]

( This is the ill-fated mass extinction memshare event. Please refer to the event for details on the resort and the plotting post for any specific details for characters' memshares! There are toplevels for each area of the resort (and for the memshare). Enjoy! )

Comments

[for8000amonth]

[ When you open your eyes, it is to the familiar taste of fetid dust on your tongue.

It is cool, a light draft whipping through the darkness, and it only from the light of a lantern that you can see exactly where you are- the floor is the creak of old wood beneath you, and the walls of aging, chipped stone. A glance to the side shows the dip of a staircase going down, and to the other shows an open doorway with another set going up- and should you crane your neck, you see the dark ceiling crawls ever higher and higher through the square space cut between what seems to be several floors. A tower, of some kind.

There is a sort of reservoir in front of you, the gleam of rippling water, and in front of you is the skittish figure of a ratty-looking girl. And you both are not alone. Near you are three other figures- a cautious-looking man, who's back is straight and who's gaze is flitting around with an alertness that matches your own. A red-haired woman, hovering by the girl by the water with a bit of a twitchy look about her. And finally, a eerily-silent child, who's face is blank as they slowly patter about the floor. All of you look battered, blood and dirt clinging to the abnormally elegant clothes with their singed edges you all currently wear, and you feel the ache in your bones to match.

You ran here, heart pounding heavy against your chest with an unforeseen sense of urgency. Your head is buzzing with a hot, loud static, and you do not wish to turn back and see the figures you left behind. If you do, you may hesitate, for the sight of two women dancing in tandem amidst the hedges and bloodied water still lingers on the back of your eyelids. You are close to what you came here for, following this girl on her futile quest through the seeping memories in her dream- clean, purified water, to spread it amongst the Shade. The healing qualities could do wonders for the disease and rot-choked populace, if only you could get just a bit of it.

And yet here you are, leaving the grounds of a mass execution. Watching the young and old get herded in, boxed by the hedges and forced to the green lilypads sitting over the water. A familiar figure with long hair greets you, made entirely of mist and fog, and as you take his hand and dance you hear the tears and screams and splashes as the water slowly churns a deeper red for every figure fallen.

You catch her attention, as she watches the bloodshed with an amused smile. You blink, and you are in her arms- and so you dance with her, for the sake of your own survival which coincides with the other's. The water surges with every dip of your body, and despite the conversation, you feel nothing but a surge of hatred and cold, icy fear.

And when someone snatches her eyes, in the wrong place at the wrong time, you leave him to die.

Your legs burn from the dancing and jumping just as they do from the liquid that had lapped at your ankles, burning the flesh and urging you forward, because you know fully well if you don't-

even if this is a dream, someone else's, you won't come back from that.

It is abnormally quiet. While you were chased, the figure left behind distracted your pursuer enough you can breathe- and yet you find it hard. There is a stone in your chest, uneasy and uncomfortable, to match the grinding headache. There is a shift, and if you look, you will see both the women steadily heading in the direction of the staircase leading up, whilst the other two glance but don't move to follow quite yet.

The floor creaks beneath your feet.

What do you do? ]

[pactmarshal]

[ The pounding of a heart against a ribcage is painfully uncomfortable.

Anxiety and urgency alone are bad enough--but to have it accompanied by a physical sensation like this? It's almost unbearable. Limbs ache in a way he has never experienced before--is this what it is like to have muscle? Trahearne swallows thick, struggling to breathe with newfound operations within him, to calm himself and assess the situation. Images of memories--ones clearly not his own, of cruel death and destruction of the likes he has never witnessed before--flash in his eyes with each blink as he tries to orient himself.

His eyes dart upward in response to the shift, watching the women go up the tower. And to the others, only to briefly take them in.

He looks down at his hands, his singed clothes. These are not his. He does not wear clothes.

With another thick swallow, arms out to steady himself, he rights himself. He isn't sure why, but he has the feeling that wherever he needs to go, whatever he needs to do, it is up. With one final glance at the other two, perhaps as a signal of his intent, he makes his way towards the stairs leading up, after the women. ]

[for8000amonth]

[ If your distress is visible, none of the others pay it much attention- there is obviously much on their minds, and their own states are enough to worry about. You, after all, still feel that buzzing in your skull, the sparks left in the wake of your escape. Your heart has calmed somewhat, but the unease remains, leaving a cautious tension with every movement.

The floorboards creak lightly beneath your heels, as you turn to follow the two heading up. Their steps are slow, and they whisper to themselves, the black-haired girl walking ahead with a sense of familiarity between them both. You linger behind, but when you go to take the first step to catch up-

You hear a resounding slam of wood, and then a loud shuffling.

Both the remaining two's heads whip to the stairs leading down, bodies tense, but just from the sound alone, you have a sinking feeling in your gut as to what that was.

You've been barricaded in, the sound of wood planks thunking over the door from the outside reaching you even up here.

And in the tense atmosphere, the slow sound of clapping breaks the silence. It comes from above, and while you can't quite see him from where you are, the redhead jolts up to see something higher up on the curved staircase. And then the voice comes, and a sharp jolt of familiarity rings through your very being.

'I'll have to admit, I didn't expect you to make it this far.' [ You cannot see him, but you know, down to your core, who this is. ] 'A group of streetrats from the Shade...Did you know how the city's defenses would be occupied with the execution?'

You can hear the approach of feet behind you, your other companions hurrying over. The way up the narrow staircase blocked by both girls who seem particularly frozen for the moment, unsure of how to react in the moment to this new presence. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ Everything here puts Trahearne on edge--the creaking of the floorboards, the silence, the way the human (or human-like) organs inside of him respond to invisible dangers. He feels sick, in a way.

And so he nearly jumps out of his own skin when the barricade slams down behind him. He almost chokes on his own tongue, and he feels the uncomfortable beating of his heart quicken again. He hates this.

But it's the voice he hates most. He knows it. It's unexpected. And when he pinpoints it, he finally realizes whose memory he inhabits.

After one more cursory glance at his self, just to confirm his suspicions are correct, he bounds up the stairs, using what little energy remains to push past the girls--or get as close to past them as possible--and look up the stairs at the unseen speaker. ]

Mishka?!

[for8000amonth]

[ This, is where the memory diverges- as you know, deep down, Adelis said nothing at that voice. He felt the surprise, the dread, but his mouth did not open in acknowledgement in this dusty, dark staircase. Nothing but the clench of his fists, as he realized the situation they were in.

You dart a few steps up, heels clacking against the stone, but the stairway is too narrow for you push past the other two, clustered together as they are. You can, however, from behind Legba, see the man himself staring down at you- and you see the barest flicker of surprise on his face as he registers your form.

...But then it smoothes out, into that faux smile you know him so well for.

Well, that's a surprise. I was not expecting to see you on the losing side...but no matter.

He dismisses you. His gaze leaves you after lingering if but for a moment longer, before it settles on the black-haired girl in the front, who has gone ghastly pale.

Unfortunately for you, Kvetka has hired me to make an example of your leader...as well as dispose as the rest of you. Please do understand, it's...

The buzzing gets louder, like locusts descending on a corpse. You know this sound.

Just business, yes?

Skip, in all her panic, darts up and pushes past him, clearly in an attempt to throw him off. He does not, however, barely budge, even as the sound of her footsteps echo in the small space. His gaze falls down to you all again, and your hand is already reaching for the cut of a well-polished knife as Legba yells her name.

I'll deal with you all once she's dead. If my friends haven't taken you as their hosts, before then.

And in a fashion you've seen many, many times before, you witness him dissolve, where he stood a swarm of nigh a thousand furious buzzing flies. It goes up, up the stairs, faster than you can keep up with. You can hear the footsteps behind you, as the others are about to catch up, and you know your only way now is up-

But you know what awaits you. And it does not thrill you. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ Trahearne was under the impression that Adelis and Mishka were close, akin to himself and Syrlya. In one manner or another. On amicable terms. Friends. So to see what is such an obvious betrayal from Adelis's perspective is...shocking, actually.

Had he misunderstood? What is happening here?

Questions and confusion roil in his mind, searching for answers from the body he inhabits, but he realizes they might not come right away. Not before he watches in surprise and horror as Mishka dissolves into flies and rushes away. He almost glances at Legba in surprise, but he knows he has no time to really process any of this. Information from Adelis seeps into his mind, and he knows he needs to follow. Dread from Adelis seeps into his bones, an instinct that wants to keep himself back and root himself in place, but he can't.

So he rushes up the steps towards the top--others in tow or not, it doesn't matter--hand hovering over the knife just in case. He doesn't know how to use them, but he will always try. Despite the dread, he has a feeling a fight awaits him at the top. He has to be ready. ]

[for8000amonth]

[ The realization trickles slow in the back of your head, a memory of adelis' slowly emerging. The faint remembrance of being offered a job from Mishka, for sizable coin, to deal with something for the Grand Duchess- but he had turned it down, dead-set on never selling his blood or blade to the kindred. While he-you-never knew the girl personally, you distinctly remember the elder man speaking of how it had been a job well done.

Now, there is a faint urge of irritation- because if a certain Assassin had never taken that bloody job, you wouldn't be in this mess.

The stairs clack beneath your feet- all of yours. Legba is ahead of you, and the other two behind, and there is a faint smell in the air- sickly sweet, like that of rot. It only becomes clear once you breach the door to the next floor, and then it becomes apparent.

In front of you, blocking the way to the next set of stairs, a massive, writhing pool of white covering the floor. Upon closer inspection, you recognize them a bit too well as Rot Grubs. You have seen Mishka use them before, in particularly gruesome fashions, and know full well the damage they can do- they will burrow under your skin if given the chance, and attempt to eat their way through you. There is no way around them, but you know they hate fire- and the satchel at your side contains a multitude of items, including a torch and a set of matches. It may not be enough to help you completely, but it is something. Alternatively, you can blitz it and hope for the best.

Choose what to do, and roll a d20, adding +8 for Adelis' natural dexterity. You need a 13 or higher. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ Information, memories from Adelis flooding his mind has more pieces begin to slot into place. As Trahearne rushes up the steps, he lets it process, he lets irritation seeps into him, wondering if it belongs to himself or to Adelis.

The smell of rot, on its own, is painfully familiar to him. And while he may not be expecting the rot grubs specifically, he knows something decidedly unpleasant is waiting for at the top of the stairs.

He gives a sigh, more irritated than he intents, when he sees the obstacle; his hands out of instinct reach for the matches. Best burn them and try and get past them as quickly as possible. ]

[for8000amonth]

[ The torch takes to the fire, and the grubs scatter as your flame is dipped towards them. It allows you an easier path, and even in the heels you find your steps surprisingly light. You manage to get past them with only one or two clinging to your shoes, and they quickly fall off as you head towards the stairs again.

The others figure out your own plans behind you, and you can hear a certain buzzing noise as you approach the stairs- a look up before entering the stairway will see there are three floors above you, the barest hint of a bell visible on the dark on the far-off ceiling. One, above you. The next, and then the top- where you wager you will find your errant mentor.

Heading up the stairs, ahead of the others, the buzzing only gets louder- and when you peek through the doorway to the second floor, you see your next obstacle. Assassin bugs, as big as a child, and a plethora of eggs littered around.

You find your knowledge of all these things is far more anticipated, if only due to Mishka's teachings and presence- they can see in the dark, but can be distracted. Their eggs are flammable, and you've a torch in hand, but you can also check your pouch in the small time you're afforded to see what else you have on hand. Either way, they will need to be distracted in some way for you to pass, and some of the eggs have burst on your shoe.

They are quickly turning their attention towards you. Think fast. ]

[pactmarshal]

[ The buzzing is ominous, a mirror of the buzzing of anxiety and anticipation in Trahearne's own chest. The dread seeps into him, not particularly keen on finding out what's to come.

He is thankful for how light Adelis is on his feet; the faster he runs, the quicker this is over, he thinks. The quicker he can find Mishka and experience the inevitably awful end that awaits him.

Also is he thankful for the trickle of information that seeps into his mind at each turn, and while mildly dismayed by the appearance of even more bugs, he feels more generally prepared than he would if he were Trahearne alone. And much better equipped.

But whether it's a good idea or not, Trahearne, spurred on by the urgency to get to the top, brandishes the torch. Maybe there is something in his pouch, yes, but he would rather work with what he has than bet on uncertainties. He'll try to use the fire he has on hand to distract them. Perhaps clear a path for the party behind him.

He drags the torch along the floor to set fire to some of the eggs, stamps what has hatched on or by his feet. If there's something flammable in the room, he'll light that on fire, too. ]