you can run but you can't escape

[singmod]

THE DARKWALKER COMES

The Darkwalker strikes again. This time, it does not come for one Interloper — but four.

WHEN: March 2nd.
WHERE: Milton.
CONTENT WARNINGS: death of playable character; supernatural death; mention of dead body; themes of death; supernatural beings; themes of terror; themes of peril.

YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T ESCAPE

The sun sets on another day in the Northern Territories. The night is calm but cold, scant clouds drifting low in the skies promising snowfall soon. A waning moon sits in the skies amongst its sea of stars, and those looking up may notice it — slowly, one by one, the stars begin to go out.

Then the moon's light is swallowed whole, and a blanket of green gloom descends upon the town of Milton. One more, the sky is dark and green and terrible. Many of those will recognise it, what this means and what will come. Others will not understand it, not know what it is that awaits them all.

They will soon find out: the Darkwalker comes.

Fear washes over you like a cold wave, a vice-tight grip that squeezes the breath from you. Interlopers will find themselves over-come, and everything in their bodies and minds tells them to run. To flee. And so you run, heading for cover indoors. Curtains will be drawn, some may hide under beds, within closets or wardrobes. Some desperate attempt to conceal themselves, make themselves small, unseen. Some Interlopers, in that fear, may rush to friends or loved ones to hide with them, others may simply cowered alone — crawling and whimpering away from the night. The fear is irrational, unable to be overcome — even by the bravest or most stoic of Interlopers.

The Darkwalker howls: indescribable, unnatural, demonic. Low moans and groans. It comes from the east, the faint booms of footsteps in the distance growing ever nearer. It is coming, once more. It's coming for one of you. And still, you are powerless, unable to do anything. And it is an agony, awaiting its arrival. You cry, you whimper, you cower. Curling up for some shred of comfort, and finding none.

The footsteps draw closer and closer, and you feel like the ground itself may be threatening splitting open beneath you. It isn't you that it hunts, but you notice its path — a straight line from the east towards Milton Church. It seems to go on forever, building into a crescendo. Your heart beats so hard you fear it may burst from your chest, as if you might die of fright.

There is an almighty sound; the Darkwalker devours and suddenly the sky is alight: streaks of pale colour shoot across the gloomy green — almost blinding for one long moment. A woman's scream fills the air and then snaps into silence.

The skies return to normal, the green is gone, the fear melts away from you. It is done.

There is no body in the street. Interlopers venturing out will need to go looking for whoever it is that's fallen victim to the Devourer. The answer will be found within Milton Church.

Towards the altar, peppered amongst faint glimmers of intangible green that will fade by morning, lie the twisted and mangled bodies of Nicholas Wolfwood, Millions Knives and both iterations of Vash the Stampede. There's no blood, no physical wounds — simply the contorted bodies that lie dropped like ragdolls. Each of their faces stare with wide eyes, frozen in horror — just as La'an Noonien-Singh was.

The Darkwalker has devoured more. There is a story, told by Methuselah: It is said that the Darkwalker will awake from its slumber and swallow the world whole. One head will swallow the stars and moon and sun. Another will swallow the seas and lakes and rivers. The third will swallow the land, and every living thing upon it — and only then will the Darkwalker be satisfied and return to sleep once more.

It feels as if the Darkwalker is making good on its story: one by one, it will devour you all whole. And now the Interlopers of Milton must grapple with more death.

FAQs

1. Essentially, a 'party post' for reactions to the Darkwalker's attack, the immediate aftermath, and any funerary preparations. Have... fun???

2. Information on the Darkwalker's attack can be found here.

3. An OOC Rundown for the original Darkwalker's attack, which includes some FAQs can be found here.

4. Notes about the characters:

Wolfwood: He doesn't leave any messages behind. Folks are welcome to go through his house, which is the cabin by the pond -- there's nothing in there of his, and the only changes he made to the house was pulling a twin bed over in front of the fireplace. The wall of the cabin is also scorched from inside, from where his Lightbringer power erupted at one point.

Vash The Stampede (Trigun Stampede): He really didn't have much belongings or anything in particular of note, so it is a free for all situation in terms of possessions.

Vash The Stampede (Trigun Maximum): He'll be leaving behind his meager belongings. all of it can be found on either his person or in the church's living quarters which is also decently stocked with foraged foods. alas he's prepared no messages because he is absolutely atrocious at saying goodbyes.

Millions Knives: He'll leave behind sharpened hunting and skinning knives (hah), some fishing equipment, and scattered feathers around the church.

Comments

cw: talking blood in here

[ployboy]

The first thing he did was to tackle Damian Wayne, with all the hard-earned knowledge that the kid might gore him with a sword pulled straight outta hammerspace. But the world is Green and that alone makes Tim wade through an eternity of nausea. Suddenly having to grapple with a Robin and hold what small weight he has on the boy over him, both of their heads now in the dry-humid-cold-warm of animal bedding in the cow's stall, doesn't help.

Tim shakes.

The worst thing about it all is that maybe both of the boys are aware that this gesture isn't for the youngest of them, but rather an educated effort to evade retaliation from someone who isn't even present in their lives. Who isn't even here.

But Tim shakes, and he thinks he can pretend that this isn't so messed up as he grabs at Damian's arm to feel less alone.

And eventually the world returns to... normal. Sure. That.

Normal.

It takes time to trek from the Farm to where so many others are gathering; Tim pointedly doesn't scan for faces he knows. (He knows the agony of not seeing who you expect to be alive, alive.) He weaves through the small crowd.

There are newer Interlopers.

Tim Drake's reputation here is nothing worth protecting and worrying over. He has a role to play but it isn't him, not even now, feeling so childishly small and grotesquely exposed. He hasn't had the opportunity to see the bodies. Doesn't need it because he can still see-- anyway. Anyway. He frowns and says, with the finality of someone who will get it done,

"I'm going to need some blood."

cw: he bit his lip cos he got scared fsdjlfsd

[flambeaux]

One head will swallow the stars and moon and sun. Another will swallow the seas and lakes and rivers. The third will swallow the land, and every living thing upon it — and only then will the Darkwalker be satisfied and return to sleep once more.

Shaking in the night, Louis wondered if the woman and the beast could be the same, howling and screaming enough to raise Hell. This time, Louis held himself back from biting his arm, but his fang still slipped and broke the skin on his lip. The angry red welt, iced down as well as possible, glares on his face now.

If Tim didn't notice Louis, he'd be forgiven for both not looking for people he knows and because Louis stands quite (too) still in the shadow of a pillar, face carefully (barely) held composed like a statue of a saint, hat under his arm. He might be a priest on a good day, or (more accurately) a man just keeping it together before he enters the confessional and removes the mask.

At the mention of blood, Louis's head turns fast enough for anyone to wonder if he'll hurt his neck doing that.

"...What?" he asks, half incredulous. One could say blood is his special interest.

[ployboy]

There's wetness behind his eyes when Tim blinks, holding in the wariness better than he's holding in the pain of relief. He hadn't scouted the crowd for familiar faces, no, but with the growing group he's yet to see a friend.

He figures, his own anxiety has got to be worse than hypothermia.

And the twisted and horrible fate of the men dead here was definitely worse than... well. Unable to finish the thought, Tim clears his throat. "Blood."

To clarify, "At the... autopsy. We... the kid. He got a sample of the woman's blood. We tested it."

He steps towards Louis, composure beginning to once again take over his blue eyes. He says, "And we found something."

[flambeaux]

Louis is glad to see Tim alive. By the expressions on the corpses' faces, it is easy to imagine fates worse than death. Louis hopes they are in a better place now. He thinks it might be a vain hope. It's a terrible coincidence that Louis's eyes are as green as the fading glimmers around the bodies, but they are filled with nothing but concern and confusion.

He reaches out for Tim's shoulder. He looks like he needs it, watery and fraying at the edges as he is.

"I've met him. Charmin' young man." The kid who acted like an impatient old-timer. Louis has enough presence of mind to be a little deadpan about that. It's a comfort.

"I didn't see anythin' on Dr. Goodsir's notice," he muses curiously, nodding at Tim to go on. (Is Goodsir a certified doctor? He's the closest the town's got, at any rate.)