Event - Aftermath

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Aftermath

➥ Handle With Care

(cw: arachnophobia, entomophobia, chirophobia, elafiphobia)

There is a reason Dogtown has been boarded up. The wicked do not rest and while the majority of ADI's manpower was out of town, those remaining were stretched thin. There simply weren't enough eyes to keep on the park. With too few people, the things that crawl inside crawled out. Most of them have been hunted down and dealt with, but not all. Not nearly all. Though it might not be apparent at first.

The weather is hot and a bit of humidity brings the bugs about. They might all be horrible, but some aren't so bad. Butterflies flit about in the air, their colorful wings offering an aerial show on your walk. Every now and then, however, one or two might catch your eye: there appear to be a few with an odd wing shape that seem to jerk and plunge in their flight. Keep an eye on these odd bugs and you might just finally place the shape: four long, spindly segments. Hands. Interlocked at what would be thumbs, fluttering sets of hands no bigger than the rest of the butterflies flutter about. Some land peacefully, some don't seem to land at all, but just dance about like a perverted wave from no one. Others still, like to land on faces and what a delight it is to be blessed with the gentle legs of a butterfly on your nose as it spreads and stretches its wings! At least until those wings clamp over the eyes under them.

You don't even have to go outside to find things that skitter and hide. Perhaps you've settled down to work on something or read or even check your phone. It'll only take a moment, really, but it has your attention. Enough so that, when you feel a gentle tickle at your neck, you might not even think much of it or reach up to scratch the spot. Except it happens again, slower, more careful; to the point it doesn't tickle, in fact, it feels almost like something is...stroking your neck? Like a tiny hand running along your skin. If you're fast enough, maybe you can brush whatever it is off, or maybe you simply turn your head to look at your shoulder and into the multiple eyes of an eight-legged friend. No, make that six. Six legs and two, long, arms ending in thin-fingered hands.

On the other hand, there are also those things that go bump in the night. Well after sunset, some areas of Gloucester titter with laughter or carry the steady sound of feet hitting the pavement, while some darker corners patter with a rhythmic slapping sound. Following the sound might just lead you through echoing alleyways until you come across the recognizable shape of a deer. A deer whose legs end in hands. Where they start is at the top: curved, gnarled, fingers jut from the top of its head like a perverted crown. Antagonize it or stare too long, and that slapping sound may turn your way, the charging deer aiming for you grasping-fingers-first.

➥ Shipping and Handling

(cw: underwater threats, drowning, refuse/filth, squirmy things, human-caused environmental damage)

Known locally as the Cut, Blynman Canal in southwest Gloucester connects Gloucester Harbor to the Annisquam River. For over a hundred years the Blynman Bridge has spanned that opening, a busy drawbridge that has nonetheless been left to rust. The Cut is a deceptively treacherous little waterway, and it's not unheard of for locals with too much time on their hands to go down to the canalside and watch the boats in the hope of witnessing an entertaining misadventure or two. There's more than one local legend of boats going down in the canal, though no record of it in recent history, and people claim the water is a lot deeper than anyone might expect. But that's not quite why it's caught ADI's attention recently.

No, it's the wretched sobbing from under the bridge at sunset that's new and concerning…and the reports of boats striking something in the canal where there should have been open water. Several owners have reported thumping on the hull of their boats as though they were struck by some furious creature, but the official story is that they simply struck litter and debris that has recently clogged the canal's entrance. It's not a lot to go off of, but with the recent Dogtown troubles, any sudden change at locations of potential significance is worth an investigation.

In daytime it's difficult to see much of anything in the water, and investigators are discouraged from intruding too obviously on the scene during hours when locals are more likely to be present. As the sun sets, though, the water roils and crashes under the bridge for minutes on end. The motion dies down, the water calms, and the lamenting cries begin. There are no words, only broken sobbing in a human voice. Looking into the water in the dying light, one can see something down there, just below the surface now. Is that a face? Did a hand just breach the surface, reaching pitifully skyward before slipping back under?

Anyone who tries to enter the water will feel detritus brush against them, all manner of sunbleached plastic debris clogging the canal. The walls go straight down under the bridge and the water is deep. It won't be long before one finds oneself not just swimming in trash but entangled in it. It drags even the strongest swimmer down, snaring arms and legs. Fight and cut yourself free, hope for a rescue…or await the end.

➥ Say, Say, O Playmate

(cw: hallucination, disorientation, synesthesia, altered mental states, breaking and entering)

There is someone in the mirror. They appear when you're alone. A childish, friendly face, or what you would consider friendly, interesting, someone you would be willing to play a game with… or at least entertain the possibility for. Your new playmate has something to show you. It's something good, and you should follow! Even those who might not usually be inclined, will find themselves drawn in. This playmate seems to be tailor made for you, someone you could get along with. Someone who whispers into your mind and no one but you can see, even if they have their own playmate.

There are too many reflective surfaces in Gloucester, and you'll find your playmate flitting easily between them, like they're stuck in a world beyond the glass. Maybe they are. They might even tell you that's the case. Help them, please! They've been trapped here by some monster for so long.

Those drawn into the chase will find themselves directed to all sorts of places around Gloucester, from publicly open buildings to private residences to other buildings they really shouldn't be going into without a very good reason, like the police station. Maybe try getting in there under the cover of night? Your playmate is insistent that wherever they're leading you, it's important to the trail. And you can feel that they really mean it. This is important, this is vital. It might be harder than usual to say no. Maybe you can make yourself believe this isn't as dangerous as it seems. That's far too easy.

It's a trail that does seem to have an end for those willing to stick it out… and who aren't arrested in the middle of all this for breaking and entering or trespassing. A tiny mirror shard, something no bigger than a fingernail. That's what you've been looking for. Grab it! Grab it! Those unfortunate enough to take their playmate's advice will find themselves experiencing sudden and intense disorientation followed by a 24-hr bout of synesthesia. Ever wondered what gray smells like? What flavor your favorite song is? The color of a burger wafting under your nose? All yours for the price of a mirror shard!

Destroying smashing the shard to even smaller pieces seems to end the disorientation, at least, but synesthesia is something that persists for at least a day after. One thing that becomes immediately apparent, though, as soon as you find the mirror, whatever you do with it, your playmate disappears.

➥ Let's Have a Tea Party

(cw: death; drowning; choking; claustrophobia; nausea; emetophobia/vomiting; disorientation/vertigo; body horror)

It begins with a news headline: Lost Baby Dolls Cry Foul On Beach! The article details strange new visitors to Gloucester's beaches, and the residents making efforts to clean up the dolls along with other debris from recent 4th of July fireworks displays. The leader of the local non-profit, I Love a Clean Gloucester, leading the clean-up is quoted as saying some volunteers have been experiencing some unpleasant side-effects from contact with the dolls, clearly indicating there may be something toxic in them. Paul Rudder encourages everyone to be vigilant to pollution and wear thick gloves when assisting.

But ADI digs deeper. It seems those 'toxic' effects aren't what they first appear. There is something supernatural going on. Two dedicated beach clean-up volunteers have been found dead in their homes, drowned on dry land. The police are puzzled. The lungs of both bodies are filled with seawater.

ADI takes over investigating as a stretch of beach is closed to the public. Perhaps you're brave enough to check on these dolls for yourself. Perhaps you're just here to try to bury the things deep where no one can reach them. Those who pick up the dolls, even those wearing gloves, will feel a strange, rocking sensation that grows more intense the longer they hold and manipulate the dolls.

Regardless of actually touching the dolls, those who visit the beach will find themselves dreaming. They are out at sea, exhausted, struggling to keep afloat, their articulated ball joints ache. They can feel the last of their energy reserves bleeding away, their mouth, something they can never close, filling with water as they sink down, deep, deeper, the weight of the water pressing in around them, constricting their body.

Waking up might just be nauseating or a violently unpleasant affair as you'll find the ground still lurching like you're trapped out at sea for minutes or even more than an hour, or hacking up seawater. Repeated visits to the beach worsens the effect, and if the clean-up volunteers are anything to go by, too much dedication might well be deadly.

➥ Mod Notes

• GENERAL - Players are welcome to play background NPCs for themselves when they are needed in a thread. If you need more information on general behavior for these types of NPCs, please feel free to ask! In general, the information provided in the prompts should be sufficient and ordinary people will act like… ordinary people! Although, the people of Gloucester seem to be becoming more and more aware of supernatural phenomenon and they are frightened by it. You're welcome to make up any details beyond that for your specific scene. Also, please remember that character deaths are permanent and plan accordingly!
  
  
• HANDLE WITH CARE (16-20 July) - All creatures can be killed similar to their normal counterparts, but smashing the butterflies or spiders will result in smashed blood, skin, and bone (on whatever instrument you use to smash them with). The deer itself can cause potential harm as it will attempt to gouge, scratch, or even strangle those who threaten it.
  
  
• SHIPPING AND HANDLING (28-31 July) - From above the water it will not be possible to make out the full shape of whatever is in the canal regardless of the quality of light. Anyone who enters the water and keeps their eyes open will get an impression of a long, eel-like creature with a human-like face; it also has many hands on short, jointless arms all down the sides of its body. It is the garbage, not the creature, that drags characters down–the creature also seems to be entangled.
  
  
• SAY, SAY, O PLAYMATE (16-25 July) - Your character's playmate can interact only with your character, no others. But two people might see different playmates in the same reflective surface who could be telling them wildly different things. The playmate is someone who will be specifically tailored to appear as non-threatening and friendly as possible to your character. If that means they're a small scared child claiming to be trapped in the mirror, or an older teen or young adult with a rakish air and charming wink. This is about your character's perceptions, not any consistency. Their appeals to 'play' will also be tailored to your character. They might be requesting help, asking for a favor with the promise of a payback, encouraging some silly game, or whatever might motivate your character. The mirror shards will continue to induce synesthesia and disorientation if they are not destroyed. Any shards brought back to ADI will be examined and then ordered destroyed. The playmates will all disappear when all of the shards have been collected, whether your character has successfully collected one they were on the trail of, or not.
  
  
• LET'S HAVE A TEA PARTY (16-31 July) - Not every doll induces the rocking sensation, but many do. Characters will have a hell of a time trying to pinpoint any source for the dolls. More of them keep washing up, seemingly at random; though, they definitely seem to be coming in batches, and any time a stretch of beach is fully cleaned up, more appear, like something has been watching and waiting to unleash more of the things. Multiple visits to the beach may result in significant lung damage, akin to what you might experience from having partially drowned.
  
  

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Comments

Jonathan Sims

[the_archivist]

Drown in the Deep
[A mysterious sobbing from under the bridge. Litter choking the waterway, hitting boats. A curious combination.

Jon can't help but focus on running through everything he knows as he pokes around the waterway. Something lurking under a bridge... could be Stranger, could be... so many things. And the litter... extinction is his first thought, but it could veer into corruption.

He hates not being able to Know it, easy and automatic as breathing.

Which explains why he's not quite as careful as he should be. He can hear the sobbing from the water. And he leans down, moving to his knees to look closer. Just a bit closer, and curiosity has always been his strength... and his weakness.

There... beneath the water! He sees it. He-

He cries out as something grabs him, tight grip around his arms as he pitches forward into the icy black water.]

[graveyounglady]

[It's the mention of litter that really draws Mercy's attention here. She's reminded of some of the corrupting influence they'd heard about and scene in Wolf Pen. If this is another situation like Plessy's Holler and someone dumped something to poison the water... that's a thing well worth looking into. She hadn't been able to help with the fight against the avatars there, so this is making up for it, right? Right. She just needs to-

There's the sound of a cry and a loud splash, not unlike when George had gone over into the lake. She quickens her pace to the edge of the canal and sees someone flailing in the water. Someone familiar.]

You hold on, Mr. Jon, I'll get you out!

[Will she? It's a bit of a drop down to the water, and Jon's not immediately next to the side. With how steep the sides are, she's not as sure she can get him out if she has to go in there, and it looks... gross.]

Can you swim toward me?

[the_archivist]

[It's crushing weight, the pressure of water all around him, squeezing his lungs. But it's more than that. Plastic grasping at him, snaring him, dragging him down. Born with a plastic ring around its neck.

There! A voice! He thrashes in the water, tries to pull away and at least manages to suck in a gasp of air.]

Too much... Plastic...

[graveyounglady]

Aw, queens and horses and fiddlesticks!

[There isn't really time to curse. Mercy has a decision to make. Leap into the water or try to cast something out. She stands and quickly yanks her skirt down, twisting it quickly and laying down to throw that out to Jon with as long a reach as she can manage.]

Grab hold of this! C'mon, Jon, I need you to grab that.

[If he can't manage it, then she is getting in. This is already going to be unpleasant an embarrassing once they have to go back.]

[the_archivist]

[Even struggling as he is, he has a moment of abject confusion when Mercy pulls down her skirts. What on Earth...?

Then she lies down and throws the fabric towards him in a makeshift rope and... alright that's not a bad idea.

He manages to push himself forward, enough to catch the material in his fingers. Just a little. Not a tight grip. Tries to drag himself further forward. But god he doesn't want to drag someone else in.]

[graveyounglady]

[She feels resistance and immediately starts trying to pull him in.]

Just hold on, sir. You don't gotta pull. I'll do that! Just hold on. Martin'll kill me if I bring you home half-drowned.

[the_archivist]

[He wants to laugh at that. Martin is more likely to kill him if he shows up half drowned.

His chest aches, the scarred over mess there seeming to throb.

No. No Martin wouldn't kill him. He'd probably cry.

He twists his fingers further into the material, kicks hard to try to dislodge some of the garbage. There, a bit closer to shore.]

[graveyounglady]

[Mercy's pull is steady. She desperately wants to yank harder to help him, but she's worried she's going to rip the skirt out of his hands. It's a frustrating sort of patience that's required, but she maintains until he's close enough that she can try to grab him. His hair? His clothes? It doesn't matter. Whatever she can reach is getting grabbed and hauled.]

[the_archivist]

[It's painfully slow and frustrating, having to pause every so often to kick himself free of plastic and nextting. But he's there finally. He grabs for the bank, and tries to help pull himself out.

Finally, finally he collapses on the bank, breathing heavily for a few moments.]

[graveyounglady]

[While Jon collapses, Mercy takes the opportunity to look him over for any immediate injuries. If nothing presents itself, she'll turn her attention to trying to untangle him from any lingering pieces of trash he's been caught in and dragged out of the Cut with him. She'll deal with wringing out her skirt and her modesty when she's sure he's all right.]

You made it. You're all right. You gonna be all right, Mr. Jon? You were struggling something fierce. How'd you even go over? Leaning out too far?

[the_archivist]

[He breathes deeply, tasting sour water on his tongue. Ugh. He wonders if this is what the Dark's brackish black water tasted like. Finally he feels able to move, and pushes himself up on his elbows to look at Mercy.]

Something like that. I think it grabbed me. Felt like that at least.

[graveyounglady]

[She casts a concerned look toward the water. After feeling like she'd been grabbed in that riptide out at the beach, she wouldn't be surprised.]

Thinking there's some kinda monster in the water. You don't think it's them kelpie come back, do you?

[As Jon seems to be relatively okay, Mercy sets about drying out her skirt as much as she can before pulling it back on.]

[the_archivist]

There is definitely something in the water. I don't know if it's a kelpie. I didn't get a good look.

But the rubbish that was dragging me down... Extinction.

[graveyounglady]

[It takes her a moment to realize that last word is one of the Entities.]

We... ain't seen that one around here a lot, have we? But what's rubbish got to do with it? I thought it was all about things dying out. And the Corruption was about trash.

[the_archivist]

It's not... dying off exactly. It's catastrophic change. The fear that humanity will warp the world so much it kills us all, and just leave... plastic behind.

Species going extinct, birds caught in oil spills or choked by plastic rings. Global warming, acid rain, freak weather events... it's a lot.

[graveyounglady]

It's... hard to imagine people ever being able to do that. Think that's one of the ones I ain't too taken by.

[Praise the gods.]

You ready to get up? Thinking we should get back to the apartments for a shower. I don't like the look of that water with all that trash in it. Even if it ain't the Corruption, could be some poison in it when it's gone still enough.

[the_archivist]

It was quite a prevelant issue where I'm from. Everyone has heard of it, unfortunately, there plenty of people with money and influence who don't care. They'll let the world burn as long as they don't have to give up even a tiny fraction of their wealth.

[And it was all so exhausting too. What could he do? A researcher, only just about making it by, long hours.

But the Eye's apocalypse had beaten everyone to it.]

Yes, I think that would be wise. I would quite like to take a shower.

[graveyounglady]

They sound like royals. What I seen Ms. Tawnie print about them in her fancy pamphlets, least ways.

[Her skirt is back on and... unpleasant, to say the least. Salty, a bit scummy. But at least they're both alive.]

Guess rich folk ain't so different across worlds and times.

[the_archivist]

Essentially. They tend to have more power than aristocrats these days. Money gives you power.

They really aren't.

[graveyounglady]

Maybe if ADI had more of it, they could do more, then. Feel bad sucking on their resources when they didn't ask us to be here. But that's why I'm working on getting the flophouse fixed up. Maybe it'll help and they'll have more money to help with things?

[the_archivist]

Perhaps, although they seem exceptionally well funded as it is. I wish I knew exactly the sources of it.

[He's heard what they've told him of course, but he can't just trust that.]

You're assuming that they want to help.

[graveyounglady]

They been helping us ever since we got here. Can't say I would've made it far without that. Folks there ain't been perfect, but they seem like they're trying.

[the_archivist]

Some of them doubtless are. Others... it's an easy way to control people, when they show up here with nothing and don't have anything that would allow them to leave, like ID.

[graveyounglady]

You think there's anyone specific we can trust?

[the_archivist]

I'm not the best person to ask about that. My ability to trust people normally is... not something that comes naturally to me.

[He trusts Martin because he has chosen to. But that innate sense of trusting a person? No. Not anymore.]