deercountry | now your tearin through the pages and the ink

now your tearin through the pages and the ink

DECEMBER 2022 EVENT

Due to the cyclical nature of Trench, LAST YEARS EVENT PROMPTS are also open to players. Please be sure to mark if you are using this years prompts or last years prompts to avoid confusion for players.

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: Animal paw print in the snow. ]
[Image Two: A close up of a hissing cat's mouth. ]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Hands underneath cracking ice. ]
[Image Two: A dark, snowy river bed in the woods at night under the moon and clouds. ]

Prompt Three
[Image One: A woman lying in the snow, her face covered by her hair. ]
[Image Two: Bloody handprints in the snow. ]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

FIGHT OR FLIGHT

WHEN: December
WHERE: Throughout Trench, particularly near the woods.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Paranoia, fear, violence, possible murder, reality questioning

Dorothea seems to be off. She's more skittish than usual, even to those she may have formed even the slightest of connections to. Her own patrons will notice that she still acts like a cornered animal whenever someone gets too close. Her hair might puff up, she shrinks back from touch, and she's quick to bite if she feels she has to defend herself. People can put two and two together pretty easily: whatever illness that has made the Tower so odd has spread out to others.

The fear she's feeling will slowly start to spread out through the month. Those who have Dorothea as their patron Pthumerian will start to feel the impacts earlier than others, but soon it's going out into the general Sleeper population. It starts off with a tiny voice in the back of the mind, one that alerts danger, even if there isn't anything immediately threatening in the area. It's quiet at first, but becomes louder and louder, until the fear becomes overwhelming.

People will start to respond to it with their natural instincts of fight, flight, or freeze. Some people might try to blend into the background and keep away from strong social settings. Others might start to lash out, fighting with anyone who crosses their path because they could be the threat. People can even go so far as to try to kill those they're close to simply because they don't trust them to be safe.

But that rational side might still try to break through. The constant tug of war can leave people questioning what's real, where the danger really is coming from, or if there was any danger to begin with. It's hard to get the answers or to calm down enough to look for concrete proof when the heart is racing as fast as it is, clouding the mind from being able to handle reason.

If a Sleeper fights their natural instinct and tries to trust others, the effects seem to lessen, but they never fully go away. The small underlying feeling of fear will be there throughout the month, no matter how hard someone tries to fight it.

Note: Not everyone will be hit by this curse. You may opt-out by simply having your character not be effected. For those who are already dealing by paranoia or distrust from their blood impacts, the effects will be that much stronger and more difficult to fight, and more likely to escalate to violence.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

COLD AS ICE

WHEN: December
WHERE: ???
CONTENT WARNINGS: Possible drowning, being trapped under ice, claustrophobia

It feels like a dream, but the world around is so solid and real, it's hard to tell if that's true. Everything is pitch black at first and the Sleeper stuck in this new place will feel a heavy weight on their chest. What's most noticeable right off the bat is how cold it is. Colder than it was back in Trench, an almost stabbing pain all over the skin, and it wouldn't be over the top to worry about frost bite. The pressure that's pushing onto the Sleeper's chest will become more noticeable all around them, like there's some sort of vice grip on their entire body.

A beam of moonlight breaks through the darkness and it's then that they are able to tell where they are: under water. Trapped under the ice of a large lake, one where shore seems completely out of reach. Swimming to the top will make it clear that while the ice has cracks on the very surface of it, they're superficial, and it may feel difficult to break through. Trying to use powers to break through the ice will make it clear very quickly that powers don' work in this water.

Is this it? Is that the end? Continuing to swim to try and find a hole may feel pointless, but those who choose to will eventually find that they run into another Sleeper or two. It's hard to communicate underwater, likely, especially when it seems like the omnis don't work to project thoughts to one another the way they usually do. But if the Sleepers can figure out how to communicate, they might find that coordinating their movements to push up against the ice will start to make a loud, rumbling noise fill the water.

The ice is starting to crack. It just takes team work.

Fighting one another or resisting will bring about the very obvious feeling of drowning. Even those who can breathe under water will find that they are unable to in these moments. The only option to get out is to work as a team. So long as they cooperate, Sleepers can break a hole through the ice, escaping the frozen water.

Crawling through the hole in the ice will bring them out of a manhole in a random street of Trench. The lake will be gone and the water too. Those who don't crawl out fast enough behind their teammates will find that the hole disappears entirely and they're forced to start all over.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

NOW YOU SEE ME

WHEN: December
WHERE: Trenchwood
CONTENT WARNINGS: Murder, demons, supernatural, violence, abuse, other awful fairy tale themes

There's one thing that's always nice about the holiday seasons lining up across so many worlds: people get to share the stories of their homelands with one another. Traditions are passed down, legendary figures are explained. People will find that they're even more compelled to share stories from their home, whether it's about a winter holiday they deeply enjoy, or even fairy tales that they were told as children. Th urge to share will feel completely natural, even if it's just to one person rather than a whole group.

But there's always a catch in Trench. As stories are shared, the figures that they're focused on will start to manifest throughout the city as actual, real beings. Santa Claus, shoemaking elves, Snow Queens... Anything is up for grabs, but they won't be exactly like the figures that people spoke of. Their eyes will glow a deep red and their skin will be covered in bleeding wounds, dripping red paths across the snow. These strange versions of these legendary beings will haunt the streets of Trench, attacking anyone they see who doesn't look like them.

It will become clear that there's violent demons about as Trenchies (or even Sleepers) start to show up dead in the snow. Their deaths never seem to be gentle, but instead a clear product of a frenzied blood lust. People may have been brutally stabbed, or ripped to pieces and scattered. Even if the characters in a Sleeper's story were good people, even heroes, their Trench counterparts only want to destroy.

Killing these demons at least seems to be extremely easy. Luring them in with a blood sacrifice is probably the simplest, but people can try to find them and corner them throughout the city as well. Destroy their eyes and the demons will vanish. This can be done by attacking the face directly or by cutting off the head and destroying it. This information is not readily available however, so it will have to be done by trial and error until Sleepers can start to share the information with one another as the month goes on.

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

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[Melius doesn't answer right away. Whether it's because he's trying to process this memory, process what he's seeing, or because he doesn't want to answer, that's anyone's guess. His own included.]

[His past self is crawling out of the rubble, coughing and trembling. The horrible screeching hasn't stopped. If anything, it seems like it's getting louder. Closer. That probably answers Robby's question better than words could. The hole overhead is far, far out of reach. The only way out, then, would have to be forward.]

[It isn't an insect that emerges from the gloom, this time.]

[Something else scuttles forward, staring with blind eyes, and raising a worn, notched blade.]

[ Robby worries about the present Melius, really, when he doesn't hear a reply. Like he might've gotten more than just 'fake' hurt, or -- there is more, which is an answer in itself, but more for what's going through the other's mind. But the past one who belongs in this memory emerges from the rubble, in a state that's -- infuriating, for how little Robby can do.

The nothing he can do. There's a moment where he even reaches out to him, like it might do anything, but his hand only goes through. It's with that noise encroaching on them, sickening, and when it finally shows itself with the blade glinting in what light there is-- ]

Fuucck. [ It's a low harsh thing, with where his limbs want to reach out and stop this, when there's no action to take but to watch. ]

F-F- [The stutter is stronger now. Harsher. Evidence of Melius' fear. Of how badly this has affected him. Even now, in the present. Because Present!Melius is alive and well, standing just off to one side.] - Falmer.

[The creature, he means. The horrible creature ambling towards the pile of debris, the Past!Melius. Whose eyes go wide and terrified, before he utters out another Shout. Another blast of fire roasting the creature to charcoal. The acrid stench of burned meat floods the memory, and the Argonian in the past gags.]

[For the moment, everything goes quiet. Save for the shifting of rubble.]

F-fallen. Elves. Falmer. [Blind, twisted, terrible things. Melius hates them. So much. And judging from the chittering screeches, there are more down the tunnel his past-self fell into.]

[ The words mean nothing to Robby at first, what Melius is trying to say over the stammering. It takes a moment to click, Fallen elves -- when there's people that have fallen in this place, and the appearance of this monsters means nothing to Robby. But he understands, though the memory of the smell burns as much in his nose as the flesh itself is darkened.

There's little Robby knows about Melius than his potion making, learning from family. Nothing about the world around him, if he knew any of the people here before. How common place these fallen elves were, how plentiful the monsters. ]

Was this what it was like back there?

[ Was this what you had to go through? is the meaning of that question. Sympathetic, distraught. He can't do anything for Melius now, but were there ever people who could?

He came to this place alone. ]

I-I didn't - I didn't - mean to come here. It - it was cold. I ... I got l-lost.

[And found what he'd hoped was a bastion of safety. A refuge. Only to stumble in to a horror show. His past self is trying to fight through the sudden rush of falmer, to look for an exit. To get out of this pit. But only ends up getting turned around.]

[The corridors grow dark. Narrower. They're underground now. Deeper - glowing fungi on the walls the only light source. And still, there are more falmer. More monstrous bugs trying to murder Melius.]

Th-th-there was a - a family. Here. But - but it... was too late. The... the falmer ... came out of their floor...

[ Robby does try the impossible: To kick at one of the bugs. It goes through the creature as anything around them has, but he doesn't have it in him to keep holding back when they get close. Useless, and it doesn't feel better, but nothing about this place could bring that.

It's just overwhelming, the more that happens, the further it goes on. ]

You don't have to watch. [ Did they even have that? The ability to just not watch. Melius deserves that, instead of this bullshit. ]

[The walls feel like they're closing in. Darker and darker. Occasionally there are structures - primitive huts made of chitin. Fire pits, though the pale creatures have no eyes. Worst of all... a pen. A pen stained in blood, containing the corpse of a young woman.]

[Melius isn't watching. He doesn't watch himself dart over, the hope on his face quickly fading when he sees the wound in her chest. The past-Argonian hunkers down, rummaging in a satchel at his side.]

Sh... she did it to herself. So the falmer... wouldn't.

[Past!Melius pulls a dried clump of purple flower from his satchel. He gently removes the bloodied knife from the corpse's hand, tucking the flowers into her grip instead.]

Deathbell. [He murmurs, at the same time as his present self.] It - it grows on. Graves.

[ God, it would be better if this wasn't Melius's own memory, wouldn't it? Then he wouldn't know what happens next, whether he was looking or wasn't. Robby doesn't look at the body himself; once he knows it's there, turning away. It's only Melius's remark that has him take notice. ]

It's an offering? [ He asks quietly. Like laying flowers for any dead. ]

S-something... something like that.

[This is the girl's grave, after all. It's the whole family's. No one else is going to come for them. No one is left to mourn them. Their souls... should have something.]

I - I always had it. Just in case... [Just in case he found more. Or - for the other reason deathbell was a potent alchemical ingredient.]

[ Robby remembers a body he doesn't want to, left in a run-down building in some other place; a twisted town, and the nothing he could give to that body before it became just that, or after the fact. Some people see this sight far more than him, and he's not jealous.

He's not jealous of Melius thinking to carry the plant, but maybe he's something close to it, that he got to do anything like this at all. A meaningless feeling, in the end; the death tugs at him inside his chest, and Robby says nothing, hoping this damn nightmare might be ending now or soon. ]

[It's a long slog. A long fight. More and more often, the Argonian has to stop, fish around in his satchel, and chug a vial of red goo. Leaning against the wall as dents are made in his armor. As his mace is coated in fluids.]

[He looks exhausted.]

[Present!Melius keeps his eyes on the ground.]

[Everything comes to a head in an enormous pit, where the caves finally open up to. Where all this seems to be leading to. To a massive, hulking version of the insects in the caves. It's an intense battle. Fire, screams, blood - it's frankly a big blur, most likely because Melius doesn't entirely remember it. But in the end, the beast is dead.]

[And the Argonian is hunkered down beside another human corpse - a grown man, this time, and not... all in one piece. The monster had been chewing on him. Still looking worse for wear, Melius, after looking at some papers in the man's pocket... gathers what he can.]

He - he wanted - to be burned. In the lighthouse fire...

[ They started at a lighthouse, barely recognisable as more than a towering block amidst the raging snowstorm outside. That should have been enough, was danger enough, but the world isn't so kind; it's a terror lurking above and beneath, there's no promise of refuge.

Robby wonders how people can go on, he wants to ask. It's a stupid question, ultimately, but it gives Melius an amount of respect and sympathy. He's having to learn this now, isn't he? In Trench. No matter how hard it gets, you have to go on. Doesn't matter if it feels like shit or mind-numbing, everything that happens.

He doesn't even try to join in the fight this time, though the same feelings are stirred in his chest. An anger that can't go anywhere, an annoyance for this entire thing. And listen to Melius, reciting his own memory without watching. ]

Those papers? [ Robby confirms first, as that being where Melius got that knowledge; thinking something about how he's not surprised, he wouldn't want to be left to get eaten alive either by whatever crawled up this way, but Robby can't say it. He takes in an unsatisfying breath, turning to Melius, putting a hand on his shoulder. ]

Melius, I-- I know there's nothing I can say and this was in the past, but-- but I'm sorry this happened to you. To everyone. It's...

[ Awful. It shouldn't have happened. It isn't right. ]

...you shouldn't have to re-live it.

[A nod. Jerky, too-quick.] H-his... h-his will.

[The memory fades around the edges, darkening. The part Melius does not remember in detail. The climb out. The slow retrace of steps, carrying the corpse. He really can't remember how he'd gotten out. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe his brain had just shut down. Locked it all away.]

[When everything clears, they're atop the lighthouse. The bonfire long gone out, gone cold. There's plenty of wood piled up nearby, ready to be used to tend the flames - keep the light burning for the distant ships. Melius has carried the dead man from the depths, all the way to the highest point.]

[The lighthouse flame, now a funeral pyre. Set ablaze by the Argonian murmuring a word: YOL Murmuring the first part of the Shout in quiet reverence. Flames slowly bloom to life, in stark contrast to the panicked screams of the phrase down below, warm, safe, and lick their way over the corpse. Something soft and ethereal lingers above, not quite light. Not quite smoke.]

I... I do... sometimes. A-already. When - when we have to go - go into caves. Here.

But - but it - his spirit. It - it was free...

[And didn't that make it okay?]

[ Robby doesn't know if he means caves in his world, or some kind of caves near Trench. It doesn't matter, he thinks. What matters is that it's bullshit, and how he's yet to grasp how exactly bullshit it can be.

He hadn't watched the burning. He could barely watch what there was of the body being dragged, his head turned. But it doesn't stop that age-old question coming up his throat. Age-old, anyway, to this event: ]

How? How can you handle it? You just came to this place and there's dead--whatevers down there? Monster bugs? And you can do all that?

[ How do people do it? When even living in Trench is--so much. When that alone is scary, and--god, he got so lucky with just a busted arm on their mushroom trip, didn't he? Being with others, (mostly) one path to follow to and back. ]

[How can you handle it]

[Melius - the present version - wrapped up in clothes from Trench, in better health, better mental state - says nothing. He just watches his past self sink down in front of the pyre. Watches the mace fall from exhausted fingers. The shield follows.]

[Having made it here, to the top of the lighthouse, the storm has subsided. The smoke curls upward in thick, dark spirals. Masser and Secunda, the double moons of Tamriel, are visible against the velvet-black sky, against the slow wave of an aurora. His past self keeps sinking down. Keeps going until he can curl up against the flame-warmed stone of the lighthouse beacon.]

[Argonians don't cry as humans, or elves. But the keening, hissing sound is all too similar to be anything else.]

I... I d-didn't.

[He doesn't. He can't. How is anyone supposed to? The closest he ever had to a confidant was a dragon at the very highest peak of Skyrim, and at this point in time, Paarthurnax may as well have been nonexistent.]

[ He didn't. Robby's gaze flickers onto the Melius of the past, his body curled and the sounds he makes against the crackling of the fire. It's pitiful, a tragedy that nobody expected, the kind that gives no signal of happening.

His eyes are red around the rims, have been for a while. I didn't, repeats in his head, and he sniffs, wipes at his nose and tries to breathe in quietly, privately. Who knew this could be felt or done inside a memory witnessed, but his body feels loose in a hollow way, but full in his chest at the same time. ]

You did, [ he says, then repeats: ] You did it. Some would've run. But you...stayed.

[ And he doesn't know how, but--Melius did. ]

[Melius makes a helpless little noise. "You stayed". Of course he stayed. There wasn't a chance to go anywhere else. He'd fallen underground. The only way out was down and out.]

There... there wasn't. Wasn't another option...

[So yes, he'd stayed. He'd stayed because the only other option was dying.]

S-so it's not. It's not - a big deal.

How? You didn't have to stay and burn the place. Give the girl the flower. You didn't have a choice to do that either?

[ Because he hasn't heard anything about a reason for doing that, something mandatory. Unless there is, and there could be, but he hasn't been told it so far. ]

... It's. It's just. What you do.

[That question doesn't seem to process, to be honest. Like he can't make the dots connect. Why wouldn't he do that for them? He had the deathbell to spare. The lighthouse keeper was... Melius was leaving anyway. Why not go back up to the tower?]

[It was warmer, too. And he couldn't think about going to hide in the ruined living quarters.]

Not everyone would. [ And it's hard to admit, a lump in his throat, to admit- ]

I don't know if I could've.

[ He's never had to make the choice. But could he? Could he handle it? Because even this is--it's a lot. ]

[Melius blinks. You can see the gears in his head turning. The hamster running on its wheel. It doesn't seem to click. If someone was there - if they had the opportunity, why not? It's not like fighting Alduin. It's not like saving the world.]

[It's just offering a flower to the dead.]

Y... yes you could.

[Right?]

... Sure.

[ Except there's nothing sure in that answer, lacklustre, a feigned agreement.

Getting in a back or forth about if he is or isn't a coward doesn't feel like the greatest time, honestly. ]

[The tone is what has Melius cant his head to one side. His muzzle scrunching up briefly. But he doesn't have it in him to ask. Or argue. So he stays quiet.]

[Until the White Stag emerges from the funeral pyre, pulling the memory apart in a gentle curtain of darkness.]

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now your tearin through the pages and the ink

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