Possession Event

[lucetimods]

Who: People in Luceti
What: Spiritual possession
When: The 26th to the 1st
Where: Luceti!
Summary: Check out the previous mod post.
Rating: If it gets smutty, move it somewhere private.


Starting at midnight on the 26th, Luceti and its inhabitants will find itself the focus of the Filial spirits, usually quiet and reclusive, now stepping out to deal with one of their own.

As promised, here is some additional information to help figure out how to play around with the spirits and interacting with similarly possessed people.

First off, each spirit has a certain time or place when they are at their most powerful. Consequently, characters possessed by them will enjoy these boosts and this in itself can be a deciding factor in what would otherwise be a stalemate. Here’s a quick run down:

Sona - She’s most powerful around lakes, rivers, and the ocean. Mostly this is concentrated at the southern lake.

Kipinn - He’s most powerful in high places, like mountain tops and the roofs of community buildings.

Faeren - She’s most powerful in the farmlands alongside things that grow.

Tsinku - He’s most powerful in the village itself, where technology thrives.

Eferin - He’s most powerful in the center of the forest where his heat may cause trees to burn. In fact, the upcoming forest fire may cause some trouble if his followers get too rowdy.

Hyt - It’s most powerful during the daytime under a bright sky.

Twila - It’s most powerful during the night time.

Nala- She has no domain and is generally welcome wherever she goes.

How possessed characters will deal with other possessed characters will depend on the interactions of the spirits themselves. A useful spreadsheet sums up these relationships. Those that have a friendly attitude to one another will generally allow ‘trespassers’ into their domain, but those they are not so friendly with may cause conflict.

Finally, to elaborate on Twila-possessed characters. Those with a natural affinity for darkness are likely to be possessed first. Once they have, they can try to recruit others less-compatible candidates to ‘join the cause’. Their goal is numbers. The more who are working with Twila, the better. Once they do, they’ll be inclined to act in their own self interest and if necessary, deal with others who try to get in their way. In the long term, the spirit Twila wants to stay this way, bonded to the Lucetians as hybrids, that way it cannot be imprisoned again. Think of it as pure survival instinct of an animal that’s spent way too long in a cage.

All isn’t lost. The other spirits may not be able to cage it again, but they won’t accept Twila reacting in this manner. Though it’s hard to tell what their beef with Twila is, they have an instinctive familiarity with the dark spirit and seem to act as its jail keepers.

They have the power to free people from Twila, but given their poor communication skills, figuring that out might just be a challenge. After all, the spirits can only communicate in shades of feeling and intentions, but not actually verbalize directions or marching orders. However, there will be a Malnosso post mid-event that will give everyone, possessed or otherwise, the info they need to turn things around.

Comments

[originaljackass]

"I'd say it's probably not healthy. Have you thought about talking about your issues with someone?"

[herotypical]

"What? Like a therapist?

No thanks."

[originaljackass]

Jack reached over and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Like a friend."

[herotypical]

Her posture stiffened, but -- after the warmth and kindness of the healed hand -- she didn't want to brush away his touch. "A friend, huh? I spill my guts to you tonight and in a month's time? When our game runs out? You're holding it over my head. Or worse."

[originaljackass]

"Would I do that?"

He would do that.

[herotypical]

And when the contact lingered on a little too long, she grabbed lightly at his wrist and tried to fold his arm back towards himself. "I believe you would. In a heartbeat. Unless, perhaps, you feared some kind of mutually assured destruction. Not that I'd usually put any stock in anything you'd tell me. Except..."

Except for now. Buffy saw the opening -- the exploitable circumstance -- and she took it. And unlike so many others in town, she had no dark spirit to blame for her opportunistic leanings. This went further than their gamings, dealings, and gamblings. This was raw curiousity and a desire to collect crumbs of power over a man who so often baffled her.

"Alright, Jack. Let Nala really get down into your bones and drag out a piece of friendly honesty. You wanna try and fix me? You gotta reciprocate. You already know what I think is your most tragic flaw. But I wanna know what you think it is. Tell me what upsets you, and I'll tell you what's upsetting me."

[originaljackass]

Jack took back his hand and for a long time, he was genuinely baffled at her question. Did he have a tragic flaw? For a guy who was as amazing as he was, he was pretty sure there wasn't anyone better. Consequently, he didn't have any faults or flaws. He could make up one, but that would just be a discredit to himself.

But at the same time, Buffy was reaching out to him. She was hurting and was looking for an excuse to unload. Clearly this meant sacrificing a little. That part of him attuned with Nala felt like some kind of compromise had to be made for Buffy's mental health.

So Jack went with the obvious answer. "Well I'm dead."

1/2

[herotypical]

"I know you're--"

2/2

[herotypical]

Huff. Her tone evened out -- she worked it to her advantage: "I know you're dead, Jack. Is that really the pit to your cherry? The orange cream to your box of chocolates? The thorn to your rose? Because everyone's got something they're insecure about, and I'm not so sure your death was yours."

After all? Long, full life. And a second kick at the cat here in Luceti. No -- Buffy felt convinced there was some deeper nugget to discover, even if she had to chip away at his rare goodwill to find it.

Of course, she could also just be projecting like a madwoman.

[originaljackass]

He should have known that wouldn't work. His shoulder sagged as he felt reluctant to go digging deeper. He had a moment of self reflection when he was at Woodstock and tried out some mundy drugs. Not only did he wake up in a ditch, but he did so with some agonizing feelings of self reflection that had been nearly as uncomfortable as the homeless man underneath him.

"Why does this have to be about me?"

[herotypical]

Why, indeed? Because even the most skewed interpretation of Buffy's issues had nothing to do with Horner. Nothing to do with nearly anyone, really -- barring a cold-eyed warrior and his invasive blood. Her cage had been rattled in a way it hadn't been in years, and now with no grand heroics to absolve herself of her insecurities. No way to make her relevant except to a pirate when she agreed to wear his ring. And even then...

Buffy tapped her chest, just above her collarbone. "I'm not revealing anything of my issues until I know it's with someone who can handle revealing their own. Until I know it's with someone who has their own. Never trust a man who truly and completely thinks he's god's gift."

It was one angle. If it didn't work, she would try others.

[originaljackass]

I'm a goddamn typo.

It was that tiny correction to Jack's notion that he was basically flawless. And there were other things and Nala was egging him on to spill his guts because even his cold eyes could see something in Buffy's that looked a lot like hurt. He was at odds with himself and wanted to just leave and go find an injured rabbit to help.

He cringed. He sighed. He stared up at the ceiling. He stared at Buffy. He stared at some masked kid who was walking into the bar, but immediately turned around because Jack looked a little crazy.

Finally, Jack stared at a door. To the back room.

"Fine. Fine. We'll talk."

But not out behind the bar. He wanted somewhere to themselves and so he began to walk away.

[herotypical]

Her gaze slid to the same door. He wanted to duck out back? Understandable. A firm nod from the Slayer alerted Jack to the fact that she found the arrangement amenable. Preferable, really. Because she didn't want to parade this to the public any more than he did. So, Buffy gestured forward with one hand and grabbed a bottle of top shelf tequila with the other. Provided neither of these two private people chickened out, a bit of social lubricant might not go amiss.

It was ironic, really. In Luceti Valley, a bit of drunk bartending had brought them a child and a family: one night together that created a whole lifetime. But here -- tonight -- she would need the booze just to speak. Possibly, just to listen.

[originaljackass]

Jack took note of the booze and decided it was a good idea. Once in the back room, he sat himself on one side of the bed, leaving plenty of space for her on the other end. And he thought long and hard about what to say.

"Sometimes I worry I intimidate people with how awesome I am."

There. Another lame attempt at deflecting from any real issues.

[herotypical]

She dropped onto the neatly made bed, letting one leg still swing free. And her fingers busied themselves with the bottle's top.

"Look at me," she answered in a voice that was muted in volume but still robust in the areas of sass, disbelief, and indignation. "I'm positively intimidated to the max. Shaking in my very trendy pumps."

[originaljackass]

"You looked it."

Okay, so he realized that one didn't quite go over well. So he held out his hand, hoping to get a sip of that bottle.

"I ever tell you about Gary?"

[herotypical]

She still had the bottle's neck in her fist, but she tilted the heavy bottom towards him -- willing to relinquish it once it was steady in his hand.

"You've told me his name. No doubt he's cropped up as a footnote in one of your many tales."

[originaljackass]

He took the bottle and took a swig from it before continuing.

"Well, Gary's not his real name. He's actually the Pathetic Fallacy. Which I think is this narrative thing, right? All I know is that he had the power to make normal stuff alive. We're talking vending machines that suddenly get up and move around and start having feelings about things. Creepy at times, very useful at others. The guy was a bit of a screw loose, but he was loyal. I met him in a prison for Fables, a place called Golden Boughs. We broke out together and he became my sidekick."

[herotypical]

"Why? I mean -- why did he become yours and not the other way 'round?"

[originaljackass]

"Because I'm Jack Horner. I'm a natural born leader. People see me, they know to get in line."

[herotypical]

...Yeah, she needed some tequila. Buffy leaned forward and grabbed at the bottle.

"So. You and Gary. You break out of the big house...?"

[originaljackass]

Jack let her have it and continued on with his tale.

"Well, anyway, the two of us had a ton of adventures. We were inseparable. I mean, I've had groupies in the past, but Gary was kind of exceptional, you know? He was loyal to a fault. He always had a back. I mean, there was this short stint where he went off with Bigby... but other than that, he stuck by me. Even when I was a dragon. For ten years he stuck it out with me. And I wasn't exactly pleasant about it. I made a pretty bitchy dragon."

Jack glanced at her and admitted something very difficult for him.

"I've lived a thousand years, Buffy. But never in all that time did I ever have someone that was actually a friend. I had lots of people I thought I could count on. There was Jill, but that didn't work out. And the prince, but that was a bust. Even Rose Red snubbed her nose at me when we got in trouble. But Gary? He stuck by me, even when I didn't deserve it."

[herotypical]

Her elbow cocked outwards and she lifted the bottle to her lips, taking the equivalent swig of a half-shot. Even that amount brought her eyes into a wince and her mouth into a little bowed frown. Tequila, she now remembered, was yards worse than vodka. Especially when one didn't have the salt or the lemon to mask a harsh flavour otherwise only mitigated by the bottle's vintage.

Eugh. Buffy glared at the label and wiped her mouth dry on her sleeve's hem. "Sounds like you had at least one guy."

But she, she realized, had many. Confidants and friends and standard-carrying allies. And yet she still saw fit to be miserable. To hide things from them. To envy them their ease and resent their dependence. Oh, what a good friend she was.

She took another drink. Winced another wince. "...Do you regret it? Him sticking by you? Despite how very much you didn't deserve it?"

[originaljackass]

Jack saw that she was hitting it a bit hard, so he reached to take the bottle back.

"I wish I'd been a little nicer. In the end, my little buddy died trying to protect me. My son killed him. And then I killed my son. Pretty fucked up, huh?"

[herotypical]

The bottle was surrendered without a fight. For now, at least. She was far too busy ruminating on his words: he wished he'd been nicer to his little buddy. These words sounded foreign, coming from Jack. They rang hollow only in their unfamiliarity, but a moment's concentration brought them back into relief. She trusted them. Heaven help her, she trusted him.

"Fairly -- uhm -- fudged up." Because for all her blood and guts and horrors, she couldn't bring herself to swear so foully. "But...here's where I'm lost. He must have had some reason for sticking it out, right? Some reason for being at your side to the very end."

You must have been something decent, once, to make him think you were worth it.