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

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin takes half a step to the side as though to make room for her. He hadn't expected to encounter anyone else, but he's certainly not averse to it, looking over at his new companion as she speaks. Like him, it seems she's dealing with all of this more belatedly than some of the townspeople here, learning about the death of the woman from others — she must be new, maybe even newer than he is.

(There's a hitch of guilt that lives in him along with many others; he was here when the first woman was killed, but he didn't know a thing about it until later on, when it turned into whispers of dark town gossip drifting to his ears. He hadn't been able to get too involved even after news spread, his body weak, recovering. But maybe if he had... he could have figured something out. Helped prevent more deaths.) ]

The Ring? [ He allows a thoughtful tug of the mouth; it's not familiar to him, but he can piece together a context clue or two from her words. A title. ] A movie? I haven't heard of that one before.

[chuju]

[ Even though Daisy hasn't been especially close with anyone in Milton yet, she still craves being around others. She might not know these people, but as far as she can tell, all of them are as trapped here as she is, and there's a connection in that if nothing else. They're all of them dealing with this same trauma, and they all have to work together to figure out how to protect themselves and each other.

Reaching out, she picks up one of those cans of food stored in the room, turning it in her hand without really seeing it. Her hands have to stay busy, but her thoughts are elsewhere. ]

My friend, Fitz, made me watch it in this big horror movie marathon. I couldn't look at a TV again the same way for weeks... [ Her voice trails off, quiet following as she struggles with the wave of longing for that long-ago time when things were easier and they'd been different people. But she shakes it off after a moment, forcing her focus back to the here and now as she replaces the can on the shelf. ] A creepy ghost girl crawls out of the TV to attack her victims, and they all end up looking like they've literally been scared to death. Kind of like the people here, but nowhere near as extreme.

[sputnik]

[ Konstantin watches the movement of the can in the woman's hands, listening with full attention as she speaks. There's a little smile at the words — he's found, in his days here, that listening to other people relay snippets of memory is a particular thing he clings onto. There's some strange fear that who he was before is someone he'll never be able to reach, again. And sometimes, it's nice just to hear people share a little bit of a personal story, to conjure up his own little mental image that accompanies it. Friends watching horror movies together, one's name is Fitz; it's a brief story, but no less important, he thinks.

Even if this one ultimately lends to a question of his own, and one that's somber, one he finds himself in no hurry to voice. His smile fades a little at the corners, and it's his turn to reach for something to keep in his hands, a knife that looks worn but usable. He wonders if its owner thought about using it for defense, when the attack happened. It wasn't on his person, so... he either didn't think to, or didn't have time to get to it. ]

Do you think it's possible that... what happened to these people was also something supernatural?

[ There was a time he would have laughed a little in amusement at the thought of ghost girls and deaths caused by literal fear, but in his days here... he's felt the ghost of a little boy clinging to his shirt front, and he's felt fear so deep that for the first time in his life he was paralysed. Some part of his mind still insists such things can't be possible, but the other part is more than willing to ask a stranger her opinion, wanting to hear what her thoughts on it are. Maybe all of this is like something out of a horror movie. ]