Night 030

[allthekeys]

GO TO THREAT DOWN

|| NIGHT 030: GENERAL As the day draws to a close, the houseguests will once again find themselves drifting to the Den, driven by an impulse that seems to have no source from every corner of the house. They will find themselves sitting in silence, waiting. Though they do not know why. As night falls the Phantasms appear in the middle of the Den, each holding one of the unconscious victims of the most recent round of experiments. The experiment victims have had their injuries tended and bound, and are each wrapped in blankets. It is obvious some consideration as been taken for their care. The other houseguests will find themselves freezing in place, unable to move while the Phantasms deposit their burdens on the floor. They leave without a word, offering no further explanation. The house guests will find themselves unable to move, even after the Phantasms depart. The room is silent, and the silence seems to take a life of its own around them. The only sound to be heard as day passes fully into night will be the sound of their breathing, some calm, others panicked. The snow shifts on the roof, sliding free of its perch. There is a sound like something breaking. Claire, Lock, and Lily begin to scream, each child shuddering convulsively, clearly not in control of the action. Lock sits rigidly on the floor, his mouth still open in a silent scream that seems to have moved beyond sound. After a moment passes, he tenses his jaw, apparently biting into his lip, as blood soon begins to trickle down his chin as he crouches by the door. Claire begins to twist on the floor, looking as though she is being attacked by something nobody can see, she claws at her arms until she begins to bleed. The air around her fills with the crackle of static as she apparently fights back, or attempts to, before she finally goes limp with a whimper of pain. Lily falls disturbing quiet after the first convulsion, her eyes open and her face screwed up with pain. She squirms weakly, clearly distressed, before finally going still and limp in her guardian's arms, with only the steady rise and fall of her chest and her rapidly beating heart as proof she lives. Winter whimpers once before falling still, nestled close to her father’s chest. Holding her, Aristo will get the briefest feeling that something is wrong, before his presence banishes whatever distressed the child. Sam and Vivien will feel a panic bubbling within them, though it seems entirely separate from themselves. They can do little for the feeling, and very quickly it passes, settling within them as a deep sense of unease that will last for the rest of the night Janet will feel the same panic, but just as it reaches its apex it seems to pause. The rough sound of her breathing will quickly be overlaid by a sense of another heartbeat, hidden just beneath the rush of her own pulse. It calms as both slowly fall into synch with one another, and the sense of presence grows stronger, as though something seeking has located her. It imparts a sense of safety and calm, both feelings clearly brought about by her presence. Before whatever the cause is breaks contact, it communicates an overwhelming sense of love for her, and fades away with a sleepy mummer. Heather will feel something reach for her, clumsy and childish with panic. Another sound breaks the silence, a woman’s voice that seems somewhat familiar. “LUCUS!”, the sound, like the babies cries, cuts out abruptly. Just before the paralysis releases them, the chains around their ankles that have impended their movement for the past night and day dissolve into sticky ash. It clings to their skin, leaving bruise like markings that cause them no pain. The wristlets on their wrists remain in place, and any new arrivals will discover the seamless metal as soon as they arrive, though it seems to do nothing to harm them. That accomplished, the houseguests will find themselves suddenly able to move again. The illusion holding the Not-Child dissolves abruptly, though the creatures seems confused by its sudden freedom and attacks a wall, rather than the man it was being held captive by, quickly vanishing from view. As the creature vanishes, those who have powers greater than a normal human will feel them fading away. Not gone, entirely, but entirely too distant to be properly used for anything. Almost as though the effort it would take to reach them is simply too great. Their physical skills are entirely undamaged, though their weapons have not reappeared. There is one exception to this rule: though he cannot remember recovering it, the sword once again hangs over Jamie’s shoulder, glowing faintly in the dimly illuminated night. Night has fallen fully on the house. A man kneels in front of Lock, though nobody can remember seeing him arrive. His hands cup the boy’s face, and he had leaned so that their foreheads are pressed together. A bag hangs loosely by his side. He murmurs a constant, soothing litany that seems mostly comprised of reminders to breathe. Lock seems to be calming beneath his touch, his hands grasped tightly on the sleeves of the man’s jacket, though his eyes are huge with terror and his face is a clammy white. Though difficult to recognize him at first, once he stands the houseguests who have encountered him will recognize the Photographer’s Ghost. There is little time to relax from the onslaught. The children whimper, their screams fading with the last light of dusk. The Corpse abruptly sits up by the fireplace, her mouth open in a soundless scream, and her eyes staring sightlessly out at the other houseguests. Her entire body shivers convulsively, and she mouths a word without a sound, moaning softly in clear distress. The moment after she moves the Burning Man appears in the fireplace, his face contorted in rage and pain. He bellows, the flames around him curling up the wall, rapidly increasing the temperature in the room, before the man folds to his knees, bracing himself with his hands against the floor. He makes another sound, something closer to a moan, and glares at the people still in the room. His eyes glean with an almost manic light, rage and grief mingled within them in equal measure. This room will not be safe tonight, and those who wish to should relocate quickly. Almost without warning, the Photographer straightens up. He rises to his feet and, with one hand, gently guides Lock to be standing behind him. He does not let go of his charge, instead staring across the room in challenge, as if he expects someone to threaten his boy at any moment. He seems completely averse to the presence of the other ghost, but he stands firm. Rose sits at the top of the Unfinished Stairs just below the gap leading into the attic. She rests her elbows on her knees and her chin in her hands, watching everyone in the den with smug interest. She seems to follow the Burning Man with her eyes the most, head tipped in interest. She hums a familiar tune under her breath, seeming to be cheerful, but the look turns into a defensive sneer if anyone who participated in the murder mystery party approaches her. Ami, Jendayi and Rin are the only exceptions to this. In the Nest in the Attic above her there is an angry, buzzing sound. The swarming mass of noise seems to be coming from within the walls. Outside the Den the Plastic Hall has changed. Gone are the gusty, unfinished falls. Instead the floors, walls and ceiling covered with mirrors. They ripple occasionally, bulging outwards as though something on the other side is pushing. Throughout the hallway echoes a measured tapping, a cane accompanying footsteps. It seems almost sourceless in the hallway, as if the echo has continued between different mirrors until the point of origin has disappeared. The faceless figure of the Mirror Man wanders the reflections, making the hallway his own. A luckier guest passing through the halls will catch glimpses of him rounding corners away or further down the hallway, images reflected off endlessly, not seeming to pay attention; the less lucky might find themselves entering the hallway to find him seemingly waiting, or turning a corner themselves to be faced with his attention. The longer one lingers, the more likely they are to catch his interest. The Lady In White stands in the hallway, one arm lifted as though to protect her face. She doesn’t move as the houseguests spill into the hallway, and barely seems to breathe, the shallow inhalations and exhalations coming several minutes apart. Her eyes are fixed on some distant point, and a deep gash on her arm slowly oozes blood. She is unresponsive. Those who are paying attention as they rush out of the room will realize that Don, Calem and Kita are also frozen, curled around their bindings on the floor in the Den. They, like the Lady In White seem to be barely breathing, though they appear unharmed. In the Bachelor’s Kitchen a young man sits perched on the table, eying his chained legs with some uncertainty. He is clearly alarmed, but does not seem overly vocal. Those who have met him before will recognize him as Joseph. He remains in the kitchen for most of the night, seeming unwilling to test his balance in the outer halls. Ricci is nowhere to be found, only a scrap of paper on the table indicating that she was there at all. If she is the key, then where is the door? A child stands near the end of the Rough Hall, its face covered in a brightly painted fox mask. In its hands it holds a wooden bat that he has hammered nails through, the instrument clearly improvised, but no less ruthless for it. He laughs occasionally, his head tilting as anyone appears at the end of the hall. Anyone who travels alone this night will find that he can move very quickly indeed, and though his weapon resembles a child’s toy, he uses it to cripple and maim those who come into his grasp. The Twelve Children are loose tonight. For once they are not found in their pack, and instead are found travelling the halls in trios and pairs—and, on rare occasion, alone. They whisper and murmur to themselves, hunched over as they spew unintelligible words from their lips. While at first they appear banal, they quickly turn vicious, laughing and kicking at anyone who leaves themselves open to violence. If the target appears difficult, however, their mumbling raises in pitch and they begin to take pains to lure their prey to the child in the Unfinished Hall. Laying in front of the covered door to the Boarded Room is what at first appears to be a bundle of sticks, but as the houseguests come closer to it, they will realize it is a canine skeleton. It lies with its head on its paws, ribcage shifting as though it pants. The bones have been weathered and cleaned entirely of any remnant of flesh. Still, they can’t help feeling that the creature occasionally whines. It seems determined to guard the door. In the Pillow Bedroom the Not-Child creeps through the tunnels and blankets. The creature giggles, reaching out to snatch the ankle of another child who scrambles to escape it. The other child is never fully seen, ducking and dodging beneath the doubtful protection of the coverings. Something paws at the other side of the locked door in the closet of the Abandoned Nursery, the knob jiggles and someone pounds gently at the lowest part of the door. Through the faint noise, the sound of a baby crying can still be heard. The door is still solidly locked and cannot be opened. Something is standing on the hatch, though getting closer will not reveal what it is. It is almost as if the air itself has somehow been stained. There is a rushing sound like wind near to it. There is something in the freezer in the Garage, pounding on the underside of the door and pushing upwards against it. There are times it seems like the top might lift, but the weight seems to be too much for whatever it is to overcome. Perhaps if it had help it might be able to escape. The Needle Woman sits on the floor in the Ruined Apartment, her legs drawn up to her chest and her arms crossed over her knees. Her hands tonight end in ruined stumps, with not even a vestige of her normal damage. The wounds ooze a thick, oily black substance that drips down her knees to join the mess on the floor. She rocks slowly, making a low, keening sound that doesn’t quite sound human. Her eyes ooze the same oily darkness, the empty spaces were they should be turned towards the battered bed. Curled up near the tub in the Bathroom is the body of an old woman. She has clearly been dead for a long time; her skin has been completely drained of moisture. Her body sits hunched over her knees, mummified corpse making it impossible to tell if she has been here for a few months or a few millennia. There is nothing else wrong with the bathroom or at least nothing apparent at first glance. The mirror shows no reflection. It may quickly become clear that this is not unique. There are no reflections in any mirrors. The houseguests do not see their own faces staring back at them, and instead the surface seems rippled and distorted. Shapes not unlike human faces morph out of the glass where mirror images should be, bulging out from them and falling into three dimensional likenesses of screams. The floor of the Leaky Basement is behaving oddly. There is an excavation in the centre of the room, a deep shifting hole that does not hold a single shape for long. It never goes deeper than the height of a man—and sometimes, in face, impressions of hands and faces seem to sink into the mud and dirt. Whatever is causing the hollows in the ground cannot be seem, but sometimes it can be heard. There is a creaking, groaning sound, coughing and puttering with its attempt to survive. While they are considerably less common tonight, a scattering of Wallcrawlers has appeared throughout the house. The creatures seem disoriented, ambling aimlessly, but they are no less vicious. While they might be confused, they are still violent and will seize upon anyone who lingers long in any hallway. The Old Bedroom seems paradoxically to be faring better in the night. Everything has been dusted, and nothing seems to be in disrepair any longer. Even the faces on the photograph are now visible, showing that the happy, smiling couple are human after all. The antiques have been restored and the curtains are pulled open, though there is nothing outside for them to offer a view of. The Empty Bedroom door leads to nothing. The floor has vanished, replaced by a swirling darkness that seems to have no bottom. The room is warm, and smells rather appallingly of fresh blood, though there is none to be seen. Standing in the middle of the room, though it is impossible to tell on what, is Danielle, watching the door with a bright smile on her face, her hand up as though to motion them closer to her. Those who step into the room will find themselves falling for what feels like lifetimes, wrapped in the warm, fleshy shadows. They will find themselves waking in the Den, kneeling on the floor next to the corpse, their hands slit open in echo of the woman’s. They will remember falling for a very long time, and a sense of loss they could not escape. They will remember someone touching them, hands patting their faces and tugging at their clothes, but there will be no evidence that they have been gone for very long at all. Written on the floor in front of them, apparently in their own blood, is the word “Succumb.” The houseguests will quickly discover that the water seems to no longer be working in the house, the taps will turn on but produce nothing but dust. The kitchen has been stripped of any food in the cupboards. However, someone seems to have prepared. There is a large stack of bottled water in the Garage, and a shelf full of snacks, protein bars and baby formula above it. No one will starve. It may take some time for the houseguests to realize but a glance out the window will reveal that there is nothing beyond it. The world outside is shrouded in complete darkness, no trace of snow or ground to be found. It is as though the world ends at the borders of the house. Those daring enough to brave the masked child will discover the same phenomenon beyond the glass doors. It is absolutely silent outside, and the cold of an occasional brush against the glass is harsh enough to burn. In places down the halls and in some of the rooms, the walls drip with lurid, almost blinding streaks of crimson, though it seems to have no source. Hanging close to the floor is a dim fog, wrapping around their ankles as they pass. While at first it may be mistaken for an effect of being shrouded in fog, it soon becomes apparent that the very walls and furnishings of the house are faded, bright colors have sunk to dull grays, muddy browns, dingy whites and yellows. The color bleeding out of the house sucks them in, the creeping greyness dragging them into deeper despair. Even the houseguests themselves seem somehow faded; while they might feel just as they always have, they appear somehow drained. Their hair seems to have lost its sheen, and the faces of their fellow guests seem gaunt and sallow. Tonight, it will seem very difficult to be loud; the loss of color spreads like a hush over the populace. Nothing stops them from shouting if they wish, but there is an overwhelming feeling that they shouldn’t. Like the dark sort of awe one experiences in a graveyard, a childish belief that too much noise might wake the dead. It is equally hard to be happy or sad, as though the house wishes them to remain in an emotional grayscale without any of the highs and lows they are used to experiencing. It is only near Jamie that these effects seem to abate. Strangely, the cold that has tormented them for many days seems absent. It is neither cold nor warm in the house any longer, instead a tepid temperature that hovers just beyond comfortable and makes them restless. As they move about the house, the dim illumination will reveal another problem. After the high activity that overtook their shadows during the day, it will at first seem as though their shadows have returned to normal behavior. It is only in rooms with brighter illumination that they will realize that their shadows are gone. There are no safe rooms tonight. No one is safe unless accompanied by Jamie or Joseph. The Lily Bedroom seems to be missing. Houseguests who die tonight will not find themselves returned until the morning. No hounds come to collect their corpses, and they do not reawaken. Their bodies are left where they are. All new arrivals find themselves arriving in the Bathroom on the first floor. They stand with their backs to the counter, the withered corpse of a woman just out of their immediate line of sight. || THREAT DOWN Fifth House 1. Outside Door 2. Plastic Hall 3. Bachelor's Kitchen 4. Garage 5. Abandoned Nursery 6. Boarded Room 7. Rough Hall 8. Old Bedroom 9. Bathroom 10. Pillow Room 11. Empty Bedroom 12. Patio 13. Poet's Room 14. Forgotten Storeroom 15. Mildewed Hallway 16. Broom Cupboard 17. Den 18. Unfinished Stairs 19. Workman's Room 20. Guest Bedroom 21. Lily Bedroom 1. Upstairs 2. The Nest 1. Leaky Basement 2. Ruined Apartment 3. Drained Parlour 4. Decaying Bathroom 5. Jammed Door

Comments

[illicitresearch]

Leaving a note here that at some point before midnight, Ienzo has pocketed Ricci's note in the Kitchen.


He'll be trying it over various doorknobs during the remainder of the night.

[prideinthefall]

Sephiroth finds himself falling through the darkness of the empty bedroom.