☆ Event: Fright Night

[moustre]

Event Log: October, Fright Night

I. The Mist It starts in the middle of the night. As the bells chime for 3 am, a slow fog creeps across the city from all four cardinal directions, swirling low to the ground, shining purplish in the light of the twin moons. It goes without notice for a while, an oddity, easily brushed off as too much rain and the changing temperatures turning it to mist over the cobblestones. The first ones to get caught up in it are the night workers, the drunks leaving the bars, the sailors returning to their ships, anyone out on the streets when it begins. In most cases, the effects are not instantaneous - it takes a little time to sink in before… a. The Transformations Even if you don’t find yourself out on the streets in the middle of the night, the mist creeps its way into buildings through cracks and openings, until exposure is almost guaranteed for everyone in Aefenglom, and even some just outside the Bright Wall in the Outer City. Though a lucky few, Mirrorbound and citizens alike, will find themselves wholly unaffected by the substance and will retain their physical forms and their own right minds, many more find themselves bent to its whims, changing in ways that could never have been predicted. There is little rhyme or reason to what changes occur or how - some simply wake with new parts, uncomfortable, while others run from their homes, panicking as wings tear painfully out of their backs or claws burst forth from their hands. The mist does not discriminate. Humans and Witches find themselves gaining the parts of Monsters, or even creatures that live outside the Wall. Monsters gain parts that don’t match up to their species - Arachne with wings or gills, Turnskin with antlers and Merrow tails, Puca with the teeth and claws of predators or the horns of unicorns or the scales of lizards, such strange sights become more and more common as morning approaches slowly. Mirrorbound may find that they can even gain the features and mannerisms of creatures from their home worlds. It all seems to happen wholly at random. These parts may not even last; plenty of citizens lose their new additions after just hours, only to gain new ones in the meanwhile. In the dark, wee hours of the morning, the city erupts into chaos. b. Widespread Chaos There’s no chance of peace tonight. Some may be lucky enough to escape the mists or its effects somehow, but the vast majority of the city hasn’t -- and it’s telling, from the sounds of people in the streets, that no one’s particularly happy about the turn of events. Many are in pain, many are blind with panic and upset. How could this happen? What’s going on? Many of the shouts attribute blame to the Coven allowing the practice of at-times experimental magics, while others turn it into anti-Monster sentiment, claiming the Monster population wants them all to suffer the way they do. Other tinfoil-hat-ists spread their conspiracy theories loudly, laying the blame squarely on Dorchacht - retribution for the Monsters the Mirrorbound stole from their city. This is an attack, they shout! The actual truth remains to be seen, however. There are plenty who don’t care about the truth and pay little attention to the rumors. They’re opportunists at heart, and a city in chaos is good for lining pockets. Some less-affected and less-moral citizens take to the streets of the Shopping and Aristocratic districts, throwing rocks through windows, banging down doors, looting shops and the houses of the wealthy of whatever valuables they can carry with them. Even a gang of kids from one of the orphanages in the Harbor District, sporting their own mismatched new features, can be spotted roaming the city, looting stores and homes, stealing from people incapacitated in the streets. They can’t pass up an opportunity when they have so little to begin with. c. State of Emergency Parliament, in contact with the Coven, is quick to declare a state of emergency in Aefenglom. A magical announcement rings out all through the city, loud and impossible to miss. Those who can keep it together are called upon to help find some sort of order before things devolve too badly and more damage is done than can be fixed. People will get hurt if things continue like this, they could even be looking at casualties. Those who have learned healing magic are asked to report to makeshift first aid stations scattered around the city to help those dealing with more violent, bloody transformations. Anyone with prior law enforcement experience are tasked with helping contain and stop the looting and the muggings. More still are called to try and figure out some way to get rid of the mist, or reverse its effects. None of the assignments are mandatory, plenty are unable to assist as they deal with their own afflictions, but any help is greatly appreciated.

II. Damage Control The chaos of the first night dies down somewhat by noon the next day. The air of forgiveness and cleaning up for the new year that was present at the beginning of the month is gone as the violet mist still spreads, wreaking havoc with the citizens of Aefenglom. Human citizens take it worse than the Monster half of the city, but one of the side-effects hits the Monster community harder. It quickly becomes apparent that the effects of this never-before-seen magic are not only physical. Fights break out over anything from minor slights to things worth fighting about, blossoming from a few thrown punches to all-out brawls that spill into the streets. Anger and agitation increase in most affected citizens, and you can cut the tension in the air with a knife. Relief efforts have to be redirected. Some can keep it together just enough to go about their daily lives as best they can with their new ‘additions’, but others rapidly start to lose their minds in ferality, even those with strong Witch-Monster Bonds. Miss Nessie is quick to whip the Coven into action to help preserve the peace as much as possible. There isn’t enough room to contain so many feral citizens, but they try to make do. All available Mirrorbound, Witch and Monster, who are able and want to help contain the people of Aefenglom or each other are taught a simple knock-out spell, or given slips of paper enchanted with the same, to literally knock some sense into the ferals. It won’t hurt them in the long term, but it will give them a time-out and help pull their minds out of their pits of animal instinct. Plenty of citizens will be thankful for this. That doesn’t mean everyone is happy to see the Mirrorbound around town. They may notice that they get more scowls while they’re out and about, more whispers and dirty looks. They come from humans the most, but especially the wealthier people of the city, dealing with their own share of terrible transformations, who mutter under their breaths words like, “Knew they would bring trouble with them. Knew it right from the start.” Known Mirrorbound may find themselves being kicked out of higher class shops in the Shopping District, or even spit on in the streets. Poorer citizens, especially Monsters, see things differently, however: they’ve seen the refugees from Dorchacht, they know what was done for some of their kind. They’ll admit that the Mirrorbound have brought trouble with them, but a little trouble isn’t always a bad thing - sometimes you’ve got to shake things up and disturb the status quo. Though they’re dealing with bizarre changes and an increased risk of going feral, they have faith that the Mirrorbound will help solve this problem. Of course, this difference in opinion just means both sides argue louder and fight harder.

III. The Refugees For those who’d found themselves rehomed, mostly Monsters and what few Witches came with, this is not what they had expected from a “full moon”. They’d been warned that certain urges would be stronger, that magic could wax and wane like the moons themselves, but this? This rampant disorder, the odd turning present in so many citizens and Mirrorbound alike, the Coven and Parliament’s bid on attempting some sort of damage control--? Is this what they left Dorchacht for, from one far too controlling city to one that didn’t seem to have any control at all? They aren’t in chains, at least. They can choose their Bonds if they’d like one. But it’s put them on edge enough that some linger by the docks, both wanting to leave to someplace “safe” in their eyes and wishing to stay. The latter wins out in most cases, seeking to help the Mirrorbound as they were helped themselves, though they may be suffering from the mists themselves... oddly, they seem to be more aware of themselves in a way that the natives are not, likely learned behavior leftover from Dorchacht to keep themselves in check; the compulsion spell had only helped compulsion, after all, there’d been a genuine want to remain secure and safe in their minds even with the situation as it was. Unfortunately, there’s plenty of locals who see the refugees as part of the problem -- before the Mirrorbound, before Dorchacht, Aefenglom had been fine, and in continuing these thoughts, they’re not... the friendliest to outsiders. Some are more likely to retaliate violently with new-found additions to their physiology and skillset when the refugees attempt to help, with whispers, conspiracy theories, and nasty rumors all the while spreading at a rapid pace. As bad as Dorchacht had been, maybe they had a point about the strange, suggestive magic used across the city. Maybe it’s something Aefenglom should look into too, during the fuller moons, should this be the beginning of something worse as the new year rises at the end of the month. But hopefully -- and this is the hope of all -- it simply remains a one-off, freak happening at the end of the year, and they pray the new one fares better.

IV. The Aftermath Thanks to quite a bit of Mirrorbound assistance, the city is still largely in one piece by the end of the day after the full moons. The mist, an unstable alchemical compound, eventually breaks down into nothing after a day or so, and the effects all fade or reverse, leaving everyone in their normal bodies and feeling clear-headed as the moons start to wane again. There are issues of property damage, stolen goods, and political discord to deal with, but the hardest to handle is perhaps the guilt of those who went feral and attacked their friends and loved ones. Samuin preparations continue with an unusual gloom hung over the city as clean-up and reparations commence. While before, though, humans and Monsters could often be found on the bridge over the River Temese, making amends with one another, the activity almost entirely ceases, leaving the bridge empty most days from now until Samuin.

Welcome to October's event log! This event takes place ICly on the 12th, 13th, and 14th. The Questions thread can be found HERE! Please help us and other players out by putting the subject(s) of your questions in your header! Investigation briefs will be going out soon on the OOC Sign Ups thread to the teams who were chosen by RNG, so keep an eye out for that. And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere.

Comments

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Diarmuid's not stupid -- Berserker knew there was no way he'd fall for such a clumsy ambush. So when he hears his footsteps come to a halt, it's no surprise. He can't see the Lancer from his position and if he peeks out, it would give him away entirely.

Fuck it.

The dragon takes a blind leap from his hiding place towards the last sound he'd heard in what he assumes is Diarmuid's direction. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[Berserker's leap is right on target- exactly as Diarmuid predicted it would be. Even then, he only barely avoids the trap of his claws; they catch on the edge of his cloak but will find no purchase with how quick he is to draw back.

But he doesn't seize on the near-miss to escape like his instincts are telling him to. Rather, he gets closer. Diarmuid darts forward, closing the gap between them of his own accord, and presses a sudden, light kiss to his lips. If he can't decide whether to run away from him or wrap himself in his body, why not meet the urges half way?]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ He expected Diarmuid to dodge and run if he missed, not to get closer. His heart rate spikes and his breath catches in his throat. It throws him off-guard and the kiss only worsens that feeling, but he likes it. Berserker returns the kiss, more insistent as he tries to draw him closer still by wrapping an arm around his waist.

They might not make it back to the apartment, at this rate. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[There's no resistance this time. Although Berserker can probably feel his tail whipping back and forth anxiously and his racing heart, he responds with the same energy as ever. He only breaks away to laugh, still obviously a touch on edge, and murmur against his lips-]

Caught you.

[Did he though? Did he really?]

[curruid_coinchenn]

So you did.

[ Not really, but he'll concede it because surprises are so rare in his life -- good ones rarer still. Berserker deepens the kiss as the hand on his back slips lower to grab his ass with all the subtlety of a freight train. Part of him knows they're still in the street and a larger part of him doesn't care. His nerves are raw, every little touch and breath from Diarmuid pushing him further to act on his first instinct. There's no place for sense here. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[There's no shortage of those. His ears lie flat against his head and his tail twitches under the attention, but that's about where the agitated body language ends. Diarmuid melts into him immediately, yielding and even a little submissive in the way he allows Berserker to set the pace. That isn't to say that he's passive; rather, he's quick to slip both hands up under his shirt, nails- they're more like claws now, though he's not sure when it happened- drawing lines in his skin. Ah, now there's a foreign sensation: he wants to mark him. Make sure everyone knows-

Gasping, he draws back.]

We can't do this here... [There's a hint of reluctance in his voice. The last thing he wants to do is pull away; he barely even registers that he should be embarrassed about the speed with which his body's reacting.] We're not animals.

[Damn well feels like it, though.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ The nails on his back draw a gasp from him -- well, that's a fun reversal since it's normally him who's so eager to mark. Berserker's about to bite his neck as a sort of tit-for-tat when Diarmuid speaks up. It cuts through the haze in his mind long enough for some kind of sense to make its way through. ]

Mm...Fine.

[ But he doesn't pull away from him. Instead, he scoops up the Lancer for a quick flight back to their apartment. It's animal instinct: the fastest way to get what he wants. The door's barely shut behind them before the dragon is all over him once again. Hands pushing up his shirt to get to any kind of skin; hungry, desperate kisses, more tongue and teeth than anything. His only focus is his lover right now and giving into the instincts tearing at him completely. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[It's a little bit of a blur, really. Still caught in a heady wave of contradictory animal instincts, he quiets them with another trail of kisses along Berserker's throat, whispering dazed half-Gaelic against his skin. Strange as it is to feel fur instead of scales, it's still his lover. And god, he wants him. The moment that his feet find the wooden floorboards of the apartment, he's quick to use his new freedom to start relieving him of nuisances like belts and buttons.

Diarmuid shifts with his touch, tilting his head to keep up with each kiss and graze of his teeth.]

Cú... [Another kiss, this one gentler. Imploring.] Let me-

[With that, he slips free of his grip and drops to his knees, one hand flat against his thigh as he glances back up for his consent.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ It's all so overwhelming yet not enough all at once. He helps Diarmuid with the annoyance of fasteners where he can, not being terribly careful. There's no room for care in those matters when all he's focused on is getting more. A quiet sound of disappointment comes from him as the witch moves away, only for him to look down curiously.

Ah...that's nice. He strokes Diarmuid's hair with a fond (if wanting) look. His arousal is obvious as it presses against the cloth of his pants. ]

Please...

[ua_duibhne]

As you [-as if he doesn't want it just as badly-] wish, mo sealgaire.

[Light hands make quick work of his fly, easing his cock free of his slacks with a long, languid stroke. It's only a vague sense of decorum that makes him pause; ignoring baser compulsions, Diarmuid strokes his hair back behind his ear and takes a slow breath before leaning forward to press his lips to him.

The familiar taste of heat and skin and arousal, amplified by his new, sharper senses, sets his nerves alight. Tentative pressure turns into eager attentions as he runs his tongue up along the length of his shaft and takes the head fully into his mouth. By now, he's used to the plating and texture but the size always catches him out- particlarly right now, given that he's forgone taking things slowly in favour of just giving in to what he needs.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ He's not fooling anyone here, considering this was his idea.

Berserker's claws work their way into Diarmuid's hair, gently pressing into his scalp. He grips the back of his head with the same gentle pressure as he fights against the urge to buck his hips forward. Even as heated as things are right now and as unrestrained as both of them are, he's still aware of his size -- he doesn't want to choke him. He looks down as the witch-turned-faun takes him into his mouth, absentmindedly biting his lip. That's...a lovely sight.

The attentions paid to him are rewarded with pleased, if borderline desperate noises. He's being more vocal than normal or louder, at least. Maybe it the full moons, maybe it's because of whatever forced these changes, or both mixing together, but it everything feels more intense than usual. Every movement of Diarmuid's tongue and lips along him and just the heat of his mouth lights his nerves on fire. The intensity isn't unpleasant and it just makes him want more. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[Diarmuid draws back, giving himself a moment to catch his breath and glance upwards to fully appreciate his work. Slightly glazed, hungry eyes, teeth digging into his lower lip, voice caught in needy vocalisations... he's doing well. But he can do better and an unfamiliar, more carnal part of him calls for it.

When Diarmuid leans forward again, easing Berserker back into his mouth, he does what his partner has been so careful not to. The Lancer steadies himself against his thigh and takes as much of him in as he can, stopping only when he either finds himself with his nose to the waistband of his slacks or running out of breath. In this attempt, the latter happens first and he's forced to pull back, a thin strand of saliva connecting his lips with the head of his cock.]

... let me try again.

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Once he realizes what Diarmuid's trying to do, he stills himself as best he can. He strokes his hair as encouragement, unable to look away while he makes his attempt. His hips roll forward without him meaning to, as if he's trying to help in the least helpful way possible. When he pulls away, Berserker can only stare down at him once again. His lips are parted, his breathing heavier...Gods, he just wants more. The trail of spit is icing on the cake. His cock throbs, his desire for more plainly evident as pre-cum dribbles from the tip. ]

...You were so close, mo poc fionn. Please...

[ Not quite begging, but close. His mouth just felt so good and the thought of being swallowed to the hilt is indescribably erotic. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[Even without his pride- strange a thing as it might be to take pride in it- at stake, the look on Berserker's face has every drop of blood in his rushing downwards. There's no hesitation then when he makes his second attempt. But now he takes his time, licking the beads of precum from the tip of his cock before taking him again. Tongue flat against the ridges of his shaft, breathing controlled- inch by inch he moves forward until, finally, he reaches his physical limit. All of it.

- but he won't let Berserker find his yet. After a few moments more of lavishing attention on him, Diarmuid draws back. The taste of him is still hot and intoxicating but he manages to stand and crush his chest to the dragon's in a dazed embrace. Something new is stirring in him.

He cups his chin in one hand.]

I want to fuck you.

[The fear in his eyes is gone, replaced by intense arousal- and sense of animal-like competition. It's the buck in him, desperate to provide himself and take control, that's making the most noise. The idea of taking him is just too irresistible.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Truth be told, he wasn't sure Diarmuid was going to be able to take it all in -- not due to a lack of want, but just because of how thick he is. Berserker's grip on his hair tightens for a moment when he reaches his goal as he lets out an unrestrained moan. Gods, that's intense -- not just the feel of his throat around his mouth, but the sight of it, too. As worked up as he is and as intent as the witch is on giving him such attentions, it feels like he might come soon.

That's interrupted by the abrupt end of said attentions and the sudden grip on his chin. It seems the tables have turned and the predator may have underestimated his prey. He struggles to respond to the request...no, demand. It's a side of Diarmuid he hasn't seen before and he can't deny he likes it. ]

...Then fuck me.

[ Berserker puts his hands on the sides of his waist and digs his claws in, a sign he won't quite be easy prey. What's the fun if there's not at least a little struggle? ]

Make me submit.

[ua_duibhne]

[How could he say no? Diarmuid doesn't even give him time to recover before moving in for another kiss, more forceful than Berserker is probably used to from him. A light nip on his lower lip sets the tone for more as he rakes his claws over his body. Searching for entrances to his clothes is frustrating but he has enough self control to undress without tearing anything.

As soon as he's stripped to his waist, the witch falls on him again. His lips find a nipple, teasing the sensitive skin, as he reaches back to massage the base of Berserker's tail. Speaking of sensitive, turning into a beast such as this must come with new weak spots, right?

He'll make it his job to discover them.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ It's an assault on his senses and one he truly wasn't expecting. Instead of resisting, he encourages Diarmuid through touch and his responses. His hands roam his body, clutching tighter when he finds a weak point. He arches up towards his mouth, a sharp hiss coming in response. Beneath his touch, Berserker becomes pliant. His tail flicks in almost expectant agitation, his breathing borders on ragged. It's not enough to make him completely submit, but it's obviously having an effect. Part of him wants to struggle against this and make the witch work harder for it, it just feels so damn good he's having trouble fighting it. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[With an unblemished face and body, the only parts of him that betray his lifetime of battle are the rough tips of his fingers. Those hands work deftly now, ghosting along Berserker's skin, following the lines of sinew and muscle through his fur. As soon as he finds his wings, they're subject to the same unrelenting ministrations; he scratches and strokes, responding to the hitches in his breathing.

All the while, he doesn't let up on his frontal assault either; as the other man arches against him, Diarmuid adds teeth to the mix. Just enough to put a sting amidst the pleasure.

God's, but he's something else. If he weren't drunk on it, he might be concerned about his own undignified lack of self control.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

H-haaah...

[ It's the touch on his wings that draws the strongest response from him, a sudden cry escaping him. They're incredibly sensitive, in a way Berserker doesn't completely understand. They flex beneath Diarmuid's touch, spreading slightly to make a greater area available to explore. It's almost an unbearable sensation paired with the teeth against the sensitive skin of his nipple, but he does nothing to stop his lover. With how close he'd been to coming in his mouth just a few minutes earlier, his nerves are on fire.

It's enough to make his legs quiver and his knees buckle. It's enough for the witch to claim victory. ]

More... [ Comes the guttural, monstrous plea. He's borderline feral, completely given into himself and his instincts. He's fine with being prey if it means he can get more of what Diarmuid has given him a taste of. ] Take me...

[ua_duibhne]

[The husky, needy growl in Berserker's voice alone has Diarmuid breaking out in goosebumps but it's the look on his face that has his ears pricking up and pulse pounding. Time to lay claim to him properly.

Without a word, he rewards the dragon's submission with a long, deep kiss, quietly hoping he'll taste himself on his tongue. Is that too crass? He can't think straight right now. All he wants is the heat of their bodies together and more of those gasps and purrs. He wastes little time getting to the first part. More gently than the manhandling from before, Diarmuid guides him from the door, never letting their lips or hands part for more than a moment until he has Berserker backed up against the bed. The last of his clothes crumple around his feet.

Another kiss- then he pushes him down and onto his front]

Do you trust me?

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Berserker's head swims from a combination of overstimulation and the feral instincts tearing at him. It's too much, yet not enough at the same time. He can only make needy, almost whiny sounds at each touch and kiss, letting Diarmuid guide him. He's completely submissive to him, his only want to do as he's made to.

He doesn't so much as protest as he's pushed down on the bed, just submits to the position he's moved in. His tail moves aside as his back curves, his ass lifting up -- he's presenting, that alone should answer his question. Berserker fully trusts Diarmuid, no matter that state of mind either of them may be in -- he's handled the dragon at his worst and has never done anything to betray that trust. Even as far gone as they both are, that trust doesn't waiver. He looks back, eyes glassy and lips parted, and nods, the only sound coming from him a low growl. His ability to speak left him as he let his baser instincts take over. He should be ashamed of himself for losing control and giving in like this, but there's no sign of shame, only pure lust and desire. ]

[ua_duibhne]

[Through the haze of his unexpected semi-rut, he can't help but wonder if this might actually be kind of liberating for his lover. More than most, Diarmuid can appreciate the draw of letting someone else take control but this is different. When you're so used to being on guard, being the aggressor, the one who takes, what does it mean to be so vulnerable?

It's only a brief thought. A quick spell opens his bedside table and brings the oil to his hand without having to relinquish his potion but he doesn't immediately use it. Rather, Diarmuid moves over him, body half pressed to his as, this time, he puts his mouth to use between his shoulder blades- between his wings. With a soft murmur of something in Gaelic- you're doing wonderfully, mo chuisle- he slips his hand beneath Berserker's hips and begins to stroke his cock.]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ It is liberating to give up control, to be the one taken. It's a way to forsake the role he was forcibly assigned. He trusts Diarmuid completely and willingly submits to him, curving beneath his body. The witch is so warm, his words so tender, and his affections still so overwhelming. Berserker's control is completely gone -- overwhelmed and dominated now, he's reduced to moaning and more animalistic sounds.

He bucks into Diarmuid's hand, his cock twitching in his grip. As he moves back, Berserker's ass presses into his crotch, deliberately rubbing against him. It's too much and not enough at the same time. All he can do is desperately seek more as he whimpers beneath his lover. ]

I'm sorry ignore my phone tag dipshittery

[ua_duibhne]

[By now Berserker can definitively feel his own cock as he grinds- unconsciously, almost- against him. A baser part of him demands that he fuck him right there and then but Diarmuid resists. Before that, he needs to bring him as close to the brink as possible.

He nips along his wings, making his way over their sturdier, muscled frame to the delicate membrane in between. Even in the midst of that overstimulation, though, there's more to come. With his free hand, Diarmuid forces him back down into the mattress and releases his hold on him. There's an agonizingly long pause- and then he trails two carefully oiled fingers between his thighs, against the curve of his ass and inside him.

As long as Berserker's seeing stars and gasping beneath him by the time he's done, he'll be satisfied.]

's all good, my friend

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ How much more can he take? Overworked and desperate, Berserker writhes beneath him. His wings tense and spread outward slightly at the attention being paid to them -- it's unlike anything he's used to. The sensitive skin heightens the sharpness of each nip, drawing more pleading sounds from him. There's no relief, no time for him to so much as think as Diarmuid continues his assault.

At least not until it's suddenly taken away. Forced down to the mattress and all of the stimulus pulled away at once, Berserker whimpers. Clawed hands grip the sheets beneath him in desperation as he lowers himself down. It's only for a moment, just until he feels the slicked fingers press their way inside of him. The dragon's practically drooling on himself already, his mouth hanging open as he rocks into the touch. His cock drools pre-come, staining the sheets beneath him. Each motion of the witch's fingers inside him light his already fried nerves on fire, his whole body tensing and relaxing in turn.

He's been reduced to a total mess, completely uncharacteristic of the normal control he forces himself to have. Berserker manages to look back over his shoulder at Diarmuid, red eyes clouded with lust with an expression of absolute desire. ]