lucetilogs | Possession Event

Entry tags:

Possession Event

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Il mio italiano è incredibile." He smirked as he concluded the statement. "But trust me, it's all English. Whether or not it's suave, well, that's another story."

A short, sharp laugh. The kind of laugh one laughed when things were funny, but not mirthful. Amusing, but not safe.

"American, then? I never did learn much about you when we first met..."

As he strolled down the stairs outside the tea shop, he only briefly looked over his shoulder to answer.

"I figured the accent would give it away, but you can't really trust those here." At least he'd heard people he suspected weren't American but had no noticeable accent. "But that's me. Regular old American. It's a pretty boring story, really. What about you?"

She kept a careful distance between them on the stairs -- watching the wing-lumps under his jacket more-so than anything else.

"American," she confirmed. "But one of the ones who does not speak Italian on the side."

The wing lumps, mercifully, did not pop out and become huge. They remained the same.

"Pity. So what do you do?"

She hopped the last two steps and the action was, in itself, almost girlish in the same way her laughter had been almost happy.

"Are you ready for a mouthful, Nate? Because I work for a non-profit and non-governmental human rights organization specializing in providing aid to the victims of bioterrorism and medication-related health disasters." Claire takes a chance to breath. "Of course, this would be a great deal simpler to explain if anyone here would actually already know the name TerraSave."

She spoke coolly. Calmly, even. Because TerraSave and bio-terrorism were household words in her America.

Edited 2013-06-05 01:01 (UTC)

"Sorry, I haven't heard of it either. But bioterrorism? Sounds nasty." He had enough experience with biological weapons from the ancient past that he didn't need to imagine modern ones to get an idea of how bad it could get.

On the ground, he slowed down just enough so they could walk side by side. Admittedly, his interest was greatly piqued finding out she was involved with something so serious.

"It is. Nasty, I mean. A lot of these areas become exceedingly unstable after even a small incident. Containment can be almost impossible. Clean-up's a bitch. But don't go thinking I'm Superwoman. For the most part? My job involves cozying up with reports from the FDA and WHO. TerraSave doesn't usually get involved until after the fact."

As common as the threat was, Claire was all too happy to downplay her role in the matter. She'd made her decision, years ago, to be the rescuer and not the soldier. "I won't lie. What's happening here? It makes me concerned on a professional level."

He was concerned, but he had yet to truly show it. Frankly his encounter with Elizabeth had mostly just made him think it was a harmless experiment. It was Claire that was making him worry there was more to it.

"I guess it would be pointless to ask if you've ever seen anything like this."

"Nothing quite like this. But I'm not interested in sitting around waiting for it to escalate while I'm twiddling my thumbs."

"I like twiddling my thumbs. It's a blast, really. But who has the time for that?"

"I don't know. It drives me...

Hey. Nate? What do you do?"

Ah. There was a question not easily answered. And one he was well practiced at avoiding.

"I'm in the reselling market. Clients hire me to locate objects of interest and I do all the legwork to acquire them - collecting a small fee for my efforts. It's not enough to make me rich, but I do get to travel a lot."

"What? Like a broker of some sort?"

"Just like that." It was all certainly true, though it downplayed the reality. It also didn't quite fit with earlier comments he had made.

Indeed. Something didn't add up.

"And so -- these smurfs. Are you buying from them or selling to them?" A beat. "You're not a drug dealer, are you?"

"... I don't do drugs." His tone was serious. He had dealt with far too many drug dealers and drug lords in his rubbing elbows with the underbelly of society and it left him a bad taste in his mouth. He'd seen just how depraved that world got and it sickened him. "As for the smurfs. Blue Man Band?"

"Group," she corrected. "Blue Man Group."

"See? That's what got me in trouble with them."

"I get it." She rubbed at the back of her neck, half-imagining she could feel the code printed there. "You don't want to go into details. I won't push."

"Mutants." He didn't want to talk about it, largely because he was used to these being the kinds of things you couldn't tell other people. "They were some kind of mutants."

In the end, Claire only truly cared about one thing. And she broached that topic as she ducked into the general store. "...Did you hold your own?"

If he was feeling more macho, he would say he did. But that wouldn't be true. Not by a long shot. So he shook his head as he moved to look for a place in the store that might have electronics.

"They bastards soak up bullets like a sponge."

I find aiming for the head helps. At least, that would be what she would have said were she in a mood to divulge. But, for now, she would play the paper pusher.

"Did you try fire? They say fire works, with mutations."

"I didn't have a flamethrower handy."

One of the shelves proved promising and he plucked a pair of flashlights from it.

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