🏝️ 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

[pactmarshal]

[ When Trahearne sees Adelis--shackled, starving, determined--he immediately understands what all of this is. What it means. Even with the knowledge that he is not supposed to be doing this, he is certain that he would of his own will. And it seems the body he inhabits feels the same way.

They've established this already, however.

He hates the feeling that flesh, this body, this curse affords him. He hates the weariness through his person, how he instinctively understands how the curse encroaches on his being, and how familiar this feels, too. If only he holds on. He has done so before. He will do it again. Last time, it was selfless. This time, it is selfish.

Mentally he steels himself as he comes to the corner, head whipping in both directions. The figure standing in his path is unexpected. He grits his teeth--inconvenient, but he had to face difficulty at some point, didn't he? Nothing was easy.

The temptation to turn left and take a roundabout, longer way is there, but he won't do it. He will forge onward. This is for Adelis, he instinctively understands. He will see him again.

And so he chooses the right path; instinct bids him to walk silently, hugging the wall. What tools he has in his arsenal, he isn't entirely sure, but nothing will stand in his way. ]

cw: body horror involving children

[yourlenore]

( What is it like to be in Mishka's skin?

Busy, in the sense that an anthill is. Your steps are quiet and quick, and throughout your body there is a rush, there is a buzz, there is a sense that your insides are not yours, that they are edging you out, and with every moment it is an active struggle to hold onto yourself, and keep it from dispersing among the insects.

They scurry into the cavity of your body (and your body is an amorphous cavity) from which insects merge into and out of and scuttle about, nesting in the sickening swamplands, the rot, the plague-festering petri dish of your insides. You feel irrationally that, if your skin were peeled back, the underside would not be blood and muscle, but rotted earth and greenery.

Where is your body is busy, though, your mind is quiet, the world about you dim in intensity, in color. There is a distance with which you regard it, as if a beast in human skin; prowling, perhaps, but not engaging, not connecting.

As you approach the figure in the corner quietly, you see that it is several, smaller figures, masked before the largest of the company. These are children. Hazy-eyed and pale, their skin blighted, their fine altar-dress mottled. They each hold a handle upon a holder looped through a finger.

One child looks down with some vague sadness at his dress: it seems something in his chest cavity has ruptured, and split him from the ribcage down the length of his abdomen. Out from him oozes a terrible black sludge from the top of the laceration down, smearing his robes. It is not gory, but it is unnerving, like a pustule popped.

There are four other children beside him, gazing at his error. )

( The boy's voice comes like a sigh: ) Father Weaver will be so cross with me...

( There stands a girl beside him, whose skin seems like it hangs so heavily from her bones it will soon slough off: ) He will eat you, you know... He has just made you those clothes.

( The boy answers, unhappy: ) I did not ask to pop.

( Another girl answers, taller than the other: ) If we can repair it and clean it before he ever finds out...

( Then speaks up an even younger boy, who looks down the hall the opposite direction, and then toward your direction, his small gaze scanning slowly: ) But we have to stay here. What if Father Koshevek's son comes out to play? We have to tell him no...

( But the youngest boy's eyes are strange. As if made of liquid, they seem to be slowly melting from his face, with his features. Though his gaze seems to settle upon where your figure might generally be, it is not clear if he's seen you yet.

These are some of the many residents of Koshevek, midway through their corruption, their curse, overtaking them; until they are entirely gone, too filthy to serve, they remain in Alexei's employ, serving the church. In their case, they appear to be sentries of a kind.

Roll a 1d20 (+10 for Mishka's natural stealth) if you don't wish to approach them, and avoid detection as you pass them; you'll need to hit a 20. If not... the world is your diseased little oyster. )

[pactmarshal]

[ Being Mishka is...awful. In a different way than having a heart and lungs and--

Trahearne at least appreciates the quiet mind, however. So often is his own filled with questions and thoughts and anxieties, even without his Wyld Hunt and without the feelings of his brothers and sisters feeding into him. This, he doesn't mind.

But he freezes when he sees the children. He does not even realize that he brings a hand to his mouth, watching in horror as they seem entirely undisturbed by the way their own bodies fall apart

This is where the Ostoyans hail from? A world so horrid that the children care not when they literally melt?

A need forms in his chest, but he realizes this as his own personal idea.

They are just distractions. Adelis will be beyond. He needs to get past them. So he holds his breath and sneaks. With Mishka's +10, that's 21.

Just good enough. ]