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

[flambeaux]

Sometimes Louis stares a little too much at necks. If he's peckish or agitated, humans in close proximity are cloying. Occupational hazard of being a vampire. Louis hates himself for it anyway and strives to be master of his instincts. It's difficult to do whenever he accidentally licks the wound or smells the iron.

"No idea if the deaths were planned or if some of them just happened to get in the way. Both public places... Maybe it was meant as a warnin'. I have no idea if this creature is capable or possessed of such motivation."

Gone is his easy casual speech, though it still rises and falls with an easy Southern lope. He's troubled and thoughtful now, and he speaks like the books he reads. Because others have mentioned monsters in their worlds, he asks,

"Ever encounter somethin' like this back home?"

[sputnik]

'Creature' is the word the other man uses, and the one that maybe a great deal of other people would, too. It's certainly not an unfamiliar word to the cosmonaut; it's the one he uses to describe the thing from another world that has made him its home.

He's quiet, thoughtful as he listens, gazing at the bodies and then the face of the corpse closest to him, eyes glassy and lifeless. Like something stuffed. Like the imitation of a person, now.

The question earns a noticeable pause. He's been... careful with what he reveals, and how, and hasn't given too much out about his own circumstances. But he's been listening to what others have to say, and oh, he's heard things. Talks of worlds with monsters, mutations, gods. Konstantin doesn't know how to feel about anything he can't prove, but he has something of his own that can be. He'll stay vague about it, but there's no harm in what he says next.

"Nothing like this there. Not on Earth. The worst monster to be found there is only the people." A small, wry smile.

"But.... above it, out in the universe — I believe there are many things that humans haven't discovered yet. Things we aren't prepared for."

He gives a soft laugh, brushing his palms over the front of his coat. "The insight of an old spaceman. What about you, my friend? Do things like this happen where you're from? Monsters roaming?"

[flambeaux]

A corpse transforms into a thing very unlike the person who inhabited it minutes before. Louis has visited this transformation on strangers and friends alike. Eternal life, and it is steeped in nothing but death.

“You know, I just spoke with a man who actually lives in outer space. Or, not on Earth. No one like that where I come from… or when. He encountered life previously unknown to us. Not little green spacemen exactly, but… things that were just fiction to me before. The unexplained, or rather the undiscovered."

He suspects, but can’t know, that Konstantin is giving only a little truth. Louis himself cannot start a vampire scare in town. He fixes him with an unblinking stare.

“Monsters do roam. Humans are very capable of the most abhorrent mischief. Hunt not the monster but the one who causes him. In my country, many an innocent man has been killed by those claimin’ to do justice. They become the monsters they hate.”

God he could go for a cigarette. Or a drink of the sanguine kind. Poor manners to do that here though.

[sputnik]

Someone who lives in space? Somewhere beyond Earth? That certainly grasps Konstantin's attention, something reflected in the subtle movement of his body to turn, facing his companion that bit more.

In his own time, alien lifeforms are.... undiscovered. The thing that had gotten into his shuttle and then into his skin is completely unknown, a first. But he's bumped into people here and there from various points in time, and it's certainly feasible that in the future.... such things would be further discovered.

What if someone's found what's inside of him now? What if they've found a way to remove it? He's careful, though, to keep his interest curious and not desperate, controlling the lids of his eyes and the muscles of his face, lets himself brighten like the person of his youth who was so excited to explore the stars. He ignores the way his heart pounds a little with adrenaline. What if.

"He must be from the future. Did he describe what kind of life it was, if not little green spacemen? Something... animal-like? Or maybe humanoid?"

Or maybe neither of those things, like the soft wet larval thing inside of him. It's capable of changing though, rearranging itself, growing limbs and eyes and teeth like some amalgamation of creatures. There's no way to describe it except nightmare.

He meets the other's eyes and lets Louis hold his own, offering a small smile afterwards. Not humoured, but thoughtful, and a little sad.

"Justice is a scary word. I'm not sure I trust anyone who claims to value it quite so much. Seems like if that's the case, a person would do whatever it took to have something to punish."

[flambeaux]

"He said they were varied. It seems like humans will make it very far into the stars and encounter all sorts of life."

Why is your heart beating so fast? he might have asked if he had his old hearing. But he can't know the inner turmoil of the cosmonaut.

"If that's so, careful who you talk to around town. Small towns aren't kind. Do anythin' to keep the peace, but when times are tough, they’ll be lookin' for someone to blame."

He'd tell him to avoid that Rorschach, but Rorschach is so obvious about his convictions that Konstantin would be able to spot them in one conversation. Rorschach is a fucking hypocrite anyway. (Takes one to know one.)

Louis moves his hand towards Konstantin's shoulder for a brief clasp.

"The both of you, take care."

[sputnik]

Varied... That makes sense; the universe is so vast, god there could be.... anything out there. His curiosity (desperation) is opening up wider, hungry, a pair of eyes stretching big but unable to see what they need to yet. He wants to know more — but this isn't the time, the place. Four men are dead. Something horrible is happening here.

He'll remember that there might be someone here he could talk to about it. (Assuming, of course, they aren't some... plant, put into place by whomever's really running things here.)

For now — a somber tightening at his mouth, a nod. Louis has experience with that sort of thing, clearly. "Wise words. Thank you, my friend. I'll keep them in mind."

He isn't used to small towns. It's certainly a different way of life, and everything feels that much more dangerous for a man with secrets. He's enclosed, trapped.

Physical touch is helpful, grounding. Konstantin doesn't shy away, but welcomes it, maybe even craves it. Maybe especially these days.

"We'll be careful, Vasya and I. Keep a close eye out. If I hear anything else about.... this, I'll let you know." Whatever's going on, the deaths... His eyes flit back to the dead men, linger there for a moment, and then he's reaching to give Louis a clasp of the shoulder in return. A squeeze — assuring, he hopes.