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wilderlogs2018-04-27 01:28 am
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THE SQUAD'S SPA RETREAT ON WEATHERTOP [log post] [free-for-all] [modplot]

THE SQUAD'S SPA RETREAT ON WEATHERTOP
The hills the squad travel through make an undulating ridge, often rising almost to a thousand feet, and here and there there are low clefts or passes leading into the land beyond. In the low-lying areas there are the ruins of walls and other buildings, and on some of the hills lie the ruins of different forts and watchtowers.
The highest hill in the area is Weathertop and this is where the squad will make camp on the fifth night of travel. This hill will provide them refuge but no refuge can truly keep them safe. As the crows said, they are the ones that were Chosen by the Green and the darker forces of this world have already found out about their existence.
However, the night starts normally. They make camp and set up watch and the hours pass without much reason for worry. A waxing moon rises into the sky, casting a gentle glow on the world. There is a light chill but nothing insurmountable due to their campfires. All is calm and peaceful.
That's why what happens next probably seems strange at first. Even those who aren't on watch may find themselves suddenly jerking out of sleep due to strange feelings of dread seemingly coming from nowhere. Those with holy magics, blessed weapons, or banked holy spells will find themselves feeling some kind of evil approaching. Those with cursed weapons or unholy powers will feel a sick sort of welcoming feeling, like something dark is approaching, yes - but that they should be glad.
Then the feeling of dread reaches them all, regardless of powers or weapons, clutching at every heart. Even those normally immune to fear may find themselves feeling the cold reaching its way inside them with prying fingers.
That's when the calm, misty night is shredded by the first screech, something inhuman, half-animalistic, half metal scraping over concrete. Another screech answers it from a different side of the hill, like the sources of the screeches are pack hunting and slowly closing in. More cold rolls in and the feeling of despair deepens as the sky starts to blot out with floating shadow shapes. The dementors aren't the source of the screeches but they're being spurred on by them, as if the unearthly shrills are calling out orders of some kind. The cold that sets in makes those that can feel cold feel as if they'll never be warm again.
But that isn't the worst of it. There are loud pops as living human figures pop in around the hilltop and its various trails downward. The ceramic and metal masks of dark wizards glint in the moonlight and spells start sparking from their wands as they start firing at the group - and at the dementors and approaching Nazgul. Cackles and sadistic laughter fill the air. Their leader is a woman with a cackle that sounds more mad and more sadistic than the others.
As the first of the cloaked Nazgul approaches from beyond the ring of stones, practically exuding darkness, one of the Death Eaters steps forward. She is shaking and though she pretends it's all rage and the thrill of potentially killing, at least some of it is fear. Even the Death Eaters can feel the chill from the Nazgul and dementors. Lestrange tries to cover that up with her usual sadistic glee.
"Naughty naughty, trying to steal my mistress' prisoners out from under her nose," she crows, flinging curses. "They're not your toys to play with and we'll send you back to your pathetic formless master with your tails between your legs. You may not be able to die for good but we'll make you wish you have!"
She cackles with shrill laughter and the fight begins in earnest. The Nazgul and dementors descend on the group and the Death Eaters do as well - and both sides attack each other, too, not caring who's in the middle. In the space of minutes, the Squad is in the middle of a deadly battleground.
Fortunately, the hill isn't the worst place to make a stand with its ruins providing cover and good vantage points and there are woods to escape to in the lands below if they make a run for it. Maybe, if they're very, very lucky, they might survive the night.
But their odds aren't great. The Death Eaters are a sadistic force to be reckoned with, and the dementors are no less horrifying for having changed sides to work with Sauron. If anything, they're even worse now, and their orders are that only a few need to be captured for Sauron and the Nazgul - the rest can be killed or have their souls sucked.
And many have fallen at the hands of the Nazgul and all flee before their faces - save the one who desires to have the Nine deliver the Squad into his hands, where they can be broken in the deep dungeons of Barad-dûr, where no light has ever touched.
✦ Post in actionspam format. Plots and mod-run events in the game are meant to be in actionspam format to keep a brisk pace.
✦ Free-for-all Post. This event will be in "free-for-all" format, meaning that threadhopping is encouraged and that threading should be treated in the same conversational way as network posts.
✦ NPCing. Players can feel free to godmode the Nazgul and dementors in their own threads, as these npcs don't talk, and have very little personality beyond being pure evil. Please just make them realistically difficult to drive back as they're very powerful, unkillable enemies. However, the mods will npc the Death Eaters since they're intelligent speaking people. A thread will be available in the OOC post where players can link to their threads to request a Death Eater npc to participate.
✦ Fairy Swaps. Now that the fairy swap mechanism will be in place, players can make their quest characters and Brugh characters magically swap places whenever they want, including during the event itself.
✦ When it Takes Place: ICly this is 5 days into the Squad's journey through the hills.
no subject
Practically working on muscle memory the kid zips around the spells being cast his way, attempting to fling the ones from two lackeys right back at them, or off to the side when he doesn't have time to aim. He even makes a show of catching the first flying blaze of neon on his wrist and just casually batting it back with a smirk, as if it was nothing but a game. But any spells shot at him by the loud mouth of the group he almost goes out of his way to absorb when he can afford it. ]
Hey! I ain't stealing nothin'! You're the ones throwing magic at me, but if you want it back so bad-...
[ Without thinking of the possible consequences (like what kind of damage the spell he was about to use might actually cause this person, or himself), while continuing to zig and zag to catch or reflect spells along the way, he charges at the groups supposed leader, with the intent of doing him the favor of returning the first spell of his he absorbed, delivering it right at the end of a fist to the face. ]
no subject
He prefers to believe the latter.
There isn't much comfort to be had in this situation, barely even a moment to spare thinking of anything else, but he catches in brief flashes Bart dealing with the masked people behind him and that is, at least, vaguely soothing. One of them seems to know what he's doing, in mind as well as body. God, Shuichi can't even imagine having the ability to toss quips back in a moment like this. He's barely managing breathing and fighting at the same time.
But trying to keep an eye on his comrade too is a mistake. Bart charges the group rather than just dodging and countering, and the brashness of it snatches Shuichi's attention for a second. God, please don't get killed out of cockiness, Shuichi doesn't think he could handle that right now--
That moment of distraction costs him. The cloaked thing swoops in close past his guard in the second he's looking elsewhere, and Shuichi bites back a curse and he swings his sword, trying to get it up between himself and the thing's weapon.
But it doesn't strike with the weapon. Its other hand darts forward instead, catching him around the forearm as it screeches. And however much they'd been dealing with these awful auras of fear and distress the things seem to exude, nothing could have prepared him for the pulse of absolute despair that hits him like a brick wall, like Ouma's reveal all over again, like every one of the mastermind's bombshells of awful truths, like watching every one of his classmates' deaths all over again and all at once.
He gasps more than screams, and his sword slashing blindly is more instinct than anything. It does the job, though, the monster screeching again and releasing him and dodge away, but it's too little and too late. He stumbles backwards and makes it barely a foot away before dropping like a lead weight, his vision and mind going black before he even hits the ground.]
no subject
He's been trying to run back out onto the battlefield, trying to scout out where the teenagers he's appointed himself protector of are. Bart and Shuichi, by virtue of being two of those he's actually spoken to, have made it to the top of his list. When he rounds a corner of ruins and sees them together, he feels a swell of relief, as if he's just found them, as if that's enough to complete the task of bringing them to safety, just seeing them.
That feeling lasts for about a third of a second before he sees one of the wraiths descend on Shuichi, and watches as Shuichi collapses onto the ground.]
Fuck!
[He rushes towards Shuichi in the hopes of at least driving the wraith away from him. He actually rams into the wraith, although all it seems to do is shove it aside a few yards. No damage, no real salvation.]
Imp, fall back! Don't do it! Please! Just get to the woods!
no subject
It's not until he hears someone calling out to him to fall back that he finally takes his eyes off his opponents on automatic. And looking back to see Dixon with a fallen Shuichi and the wraith still looming over them, his heart practically stops.
Not listening to what Dixon told him, and no longer thinking of the opponents behind him, he takes off running toward them on instinct. Too used to being the one who could run in and take everyone else out of danger, and too used to being faster than anyone could hit him, in his panic he forgets he's just as slow as everyone else. ]
no subject
[Her eyes are wide and wild.]
Crucio!
[The torture spell is launched at Impulse's back and as she uses it she cackles a jittering laugh, grimy teeth bared like an animal.]
Naughty little mudblood, playing with magic that isn't your own. Did you think it would go unpunished? No, you're going to scream and twitch and cry until you beg for death.
no subject
What had seemed like hundreds of inhuman shrieks getting cut off by explosions had filled the air around them. It was a cacophony of noise that had plagued his thoughts and nightmares in the months following and they came rushing back with terrifying clarity, along with the sound of his friends crying out to him and the last cry of his scout before that part of himself burst apart infront of them.
The screams from his memories get muddled with the one being ripped from his throat in the present as he collapses forward to the ground curling reflexively in on himself like he did then. But unlike then where the backlash of pain had been enough to knock him out and throw him into shock, he stays awake and aware as the spell sends waves of agony washing over him.]
no subject
It's better than adrenaline, better than magic, in getting him to react. It blinds him, makes the wraith lurking around Shuichi's prone form a few feet a distant concern, because it's not about keeping anyone safe anymore. It's about causing as much damage and pain as he can to someone else. At this second he'd let the whole world die if it meant he could punch Bellatrix in the face.
He swings a fist at Bellatrix with his whole body, hard enough to knock her teeth out or break her nose, and she goes down.]
You stay the fuck away from Impulse and Sushi, you goddamn-
[He calls Bellatrix a name he certainly wouldn't use in front of his momma, and kicks her hard in the stomach. He'd keep going, but he's too exhausted, too weak from losing blood, so instead he just spits on her and staggers backwards. Just as quickly as it flared up, the rage dims, and everything else comes bubbling up, the fear and the concern rushing back in.
He scrambles and stumbles to Bart, the kid huddled up near-fetal. Bart's screams are echoing so loud in his head they may as well still be happening. Fearing the worst, he reaches to check Bart's neck for a pulse, feeling suddenly the pressure of their being just one of him (one bloody, exhausted, shitfaced him), two injured-or-worse teenagers, against at least one wraith and maybe more. He doesn't like that math.
His eyes fill up and spill over.]
Kid-
no subject
But when he feels fingers against his neck the former speedster jolts up, pulling away, and for a moment looks at the man next to him as if he doesn't recognize him. Looking lost and panicked, face wet with tears behind his goggles, muscles tensed and seemingly ready to take off like a jackrabbit, it takes a second or two before recognition finally dawns on his face. And just as quickly that recognizations turns to jumpy confusion again as he looks around them quizzically.
Finally seeing the other boy still laying defenseless on the ground, the phantom closing in on him again, snaps him back to reality and instinct kicks him back into high gear. With panic and adrenaline still driving him, he clambers to his feet, grabbing Dixon by the arm and trying to run them both back over to him.]
lots of drv3 spoilers
(Rantaro collapsed on the ground, skull smashed in and blood pooling beneath it. Kaede hanging, still swaying with the momentum she'd been jerked around with. Ryoma's small body floating, already lifeless even before it's torn to pieces. Kirumi viciously slashed and sliced and finally dropped and broken. Angie and Tenko, matching stab wounds in the back of their necks, blood leaking from Korekiyo's eyes as he's boiled alive. Miu's horrified post-mortem expression with her hands still clawing at her throat, Gonta's large form burning. An ocean of blood splattered around the hydraulic press all that remained of Ouma. Kaito spilling out of his capsule onto the floor, smiling despite the blood dripping from his mouth.)
Who had he helped? No one who'd been killed. None of the others who he'd convinced to die with him instead. The whole class of sixteen dead despite all his best efforts, despite Kaede's wishes for him to put a stop to it all so the rest of them could escape. So what if he'd figured it out in the end? It was too little and too late. He didn't manage to save anyone.
He wouldn't be any more useful here. He'd fucked up, he'd left Bart fighting alone--
It's hard to say whether that thought drags him from the morass of memories of the game or whether it's just a coincidence that he wakes up then. Probably the latter, given he's hardly jumping to his feet to help. No, he barely moves, scarcely managing to groan and turn his head away from the dirt to stare blankly up at the grey sky.
He should want to vomit, remembering everything so clearly all one after the other. But there's no nausea -- it's probably a sign of how fucked he is by now that his stomach is so steeled to corpses -- there's only a deep, deep misery, like a pit he can't imagine ever climbing out of, his own uselessness and the futility of everything numbing him to the sounds of the battlefield even as he fully comes to.
He should get up, but it's just so much easier to not. He could just lay here until one of these monsters or masked assholes kills him or something. It would save everyone the trouble of having to look after him.]
no subject
The relief gives way to panic as he realizes how close the Nazgul is to Shuichi, how terrifying it is that Shuichi is not moving, but some part of Dixon pieces together that the wraith wouldn't be coming for him if he weren't somehow alive. Living in that undeath like Sothe was.
He staggers with Bart and collapses onto his knees between Shuichi and the wraith, doing the only thing he knows how to do now, using his own body as a shield. He watches as Shuichi blinks into space, laying there, and tries to pull Shuichi to his feet. It's a pitiful effort, and it ends with Dixon blearily looking into Shuichi's vacant, sad eyes and resting a hand on Shuichi's cheek, like he's trying to promise Shuichi they're all going to get out of here alive.
He turns his attention to the Nazgul, steeling himself there on the ground on hands and knees like a dog backed into a corner.
He can't carry Shuichi out of here. Couldn't with another burst of adrenaline even if that seemed to be coming back. Even on all fours he's shaking. There's blood down his shirt, the back of his pants, in his shoes, soaking his socks. There's a drunken haze making time slow down and speed up and making his peripheral vision watery and nauseating. There's the feeling that either his heart is going to explode and splatter onto the inside of his ribs or that his lungs are going to collapse.]
Tell me what to do! [he yells at Bart, his brain as spent as his body, trusting the kid with what may be the last moments of any of their lives.]