Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
libraryassistants) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
unfinishedlibrary2026-02-25 09:16 am
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2026-02-25 09:16 am
rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, the numbers of the feared.
Who: Readers and Actors!
What: The aftermath of the Masquerade Night, the discovery of bad faith actors, and the repercussions of mischief. And the answer to a burning question: if all of Montica’s vampires were at the ball, who exactly was picking fights with werewolves out on the streets?
When: The week following the Masquerade, including the morning after the ball. [ooc timeline: 24th Feb - 13th March]
Where: The city of Montica, the sewers, and the woods on the outskirts of town.
Content warnings: Some bloodiness can be assumed, but please note specific content warnings in your tags. If your description of blood/violence will be more than a passing mention, give a heads up.
Due to the malleable nature of time, it will be the Waxing Gibbous Moon for a few days longer. The Full Moon has been postponed until Log 4.
Rumours are strange things. Some spring from nowhere, popping up like weeds through concrete. Others worm their way up from fragments of truth, growing wildly and twisting the reality at their core.
Like its loyalties, Montica is split into two (–arguably three) schools of rumours following the night of the ball. The gossip flows easily and steadily, and is just as often as wrong as it is right.
But there are two things to keep in mind with this kind of gossip:
The first is that it doesn’t matter if it’s right. Some things just stick. Whatever makes a good story is what will hang around.
And the second thing? Sometimes, it is true.
The first set of rumours are from the high-class in Montica. There's gossip aplenty around anyone who managed to speak to any of the vampiric elite, and those foreigners in Montica may find themselves suddenly popular with the families who are trying to climb the social ladder. Then there's the talk about the others at the ball - who drank too much, who snuck into a private room, whose performances were most favoured. In particular, there's a rumour that one of the performers may have a secret twin - though the persisting argument is that she’s just incredibly skilled at quick outfit changes. Those interested in politicking and gossip seem fixated on the idea that certain people seemed rather close at the ball, and they and are keenly interested in confirming who they are. If the speculation turns out to be true, then maybe there really is hope for a peaceful resolution to Montica’s feud.
But not all rumours are so hopeful.
There are those whose homes were targeted while they were dancing the night away. Frustration and anger drives their accusations and desire to find who exactly vandalised their homes - though more than a few of them are confused by the faint burn marks and charcoal left behind that appear vaguely garlic-shaped. Gossip here seems to range between vitriolic (those determined to hunt down the perpetrators) and the cautious (those who found evidence of someone having intervened). But they are closely aligned in their thoughts: they want retribution or revenge for the slights against them.
In the quiet of the neutral zone, it seems some keen-eyed witnesses saw at least one blood-covered guest wandering the streets in a daze. Whispers abound about whether the vampires mean to hold to their pacts, and the neutral population of Montica seem to be experiencing some sort of renewal of their religious beliefs - if the sudden increase of crucifixes is anything to go by.
Likewise, there are not-so-hushed whispers that the vampires were not the only ones taking a bite last night. There are accusations that the coming full moon will bring with it some brand-new transformations, unless those bitten can get their hands on the remedy for lycanthropy. With the full moon looming close, they don’t have much time at all to find one.
An even darker rumour weaves throughout these. There are people who haven’t been seen since that night. The morning after the ball, it’s assumed that they’re holed up somewhere with a hangover. But by the third day after the festivities, the grapevine is convinced they’ve been kidnapped - or worse.
Shops in the neutral zone seem to be on high alert, the people there seemingly less willing than usual to keep their stalls open past sunset. The usual bustle of the market is subdued, and as the week drags on, more and more citizens seem to take to carrying protective measures against both the lycans and the vampires.
There's a murmur throughout the populace. Mythical creatures have been sighted, among them a Nue - and there are some who are making their concerns about this well-known. If something isn't done to calm their fears, the threat of revolution is clear.
Of course, there’s damage to both sides as well. Garlic has mysteriously found its way into the vampires’ district, causing discomfort to many as they try to root it out, while the Guildulf household has seen better days, made all the more potent by their leader’s injury. There is an opportunity in this: the people could work together and help each other out, and prioritizing the neutral district would go a long way in helping mend fences (metaphorical and literal). But is there the incentive to do so? Especially since…
However, the city isn't strictly under Umbran control - and there are some who balk at the idea of leaving the search to them. Particularly around the Laurelthirst, some hardy werewolves are rounding up a crew of tough adventurers to strike out in their own search party. They intend to strike out into the woods that surround Montica, and since they aren’t hampered by daylight, they’re determined to head out the moment they have enough people.
Of all the visitors to Montica, not a few of them are adventurers themselves. Parties are being formed, some of which are determined to track the supposed mythical creatures rather than any missing person. While it’s wise to stick with one of the larger groups, there is nothing stopping anyone from taking a shot at it on their own.
Those who investigate the maze of the sewers in small groups will feel a sense of dread creeping upon them the further they go. Torches splutter and die, leaving them facing just a pair of glowing red eyes. Those who travel in large groups will find… nothing. Only traces of creatures who seem to have scattered at their approach, disappearing quickly into side-passages.
And of all of those people who explore the sewers, those who have pliable minds will find themselves hypnotised. Perhaps they’re about to become food, or be turned into a vampire themselves. Perhaps they’re being given orders to turn against each-other, or are being lured to the woods. Either way, they’ve had the misfortune of stumbling into a vampiric vanguard - a group of scouts skilled in mind games and illusions, who are more than determined to clear a way past that very blocked door.
Some determined trackers are keen to set up a camp for the night and see it through. Others plead caution and turn back to the city - though anyone trying to leave won’t get far from the fireside before a feeling of being watched sets in. The further they go, the more likely it is that the feeling of being watched very quickly turns to the feeling of being hunted.
More bats than owls seem to live here. They hang from every tree, their eyes seeming to glow under the moonlight. And they seem… hungry.
At night, any solo travelers will be quickly swarmed by bats, their leathery wings and sharp claws striking recklessly as they dive onto their target. Some with incredible aim may even latch tiny fangs onto exposed skin, leaving bite marks that will bleed profusely despite the small size of the wounds. It seems it's better to stay with the group for now, unless someone can come up with a plan.
What: The aftermath of the Masquerade Night, the discovery of bad faith actors, and the repercussions of mischief. And the answer to a burning question: if all of Montica’s vampires were at the ball, who exactly was picking fights with werewolves out on the streets?
When: The week following the Masquerade, including the morning after the ball. [ooc timeline: 24th Feb - 13th March]
Where: The city of Montica, the sewers, and the woods on the outskirts of town.
Content warnings: Some bloodiness can be assumed, but please note specific content warnings in your tags. If your description of blood/violence will be more than a passing mention, give a heads up.
Due to the malleable nature of time, it will be the Waxing Gibbous Moon for a few days longer. The Full Moon has been postponed until Log 4.
Rumours are strange things. Some spring from nowhere, popping up like weeds through concrete. Others worm their way up from fragments of truth, growing wildly and twisting the reality at their core.
Like its loyalties, Montica is split into two (–arguably three) schools of rumours following the night of the ball. The gossip flows easily and steadily, and is just as often as wrong as it is right.
But there are two things to keep in mind with this kind of gossip:
The first is that it doesn’t matter if it’s right. Some things just stick. Whatever makes a good story is what will hang around.
And the second thing? Sometimes, it is true.
The first set of rumours are from the high-class in Montica. There's gossip aplenty around anyone who managed to speak to any of the vampiric elite, and those foreigners in Montica may find themselves suddenly popular with the families who are trying to climb the social ladder. Then there's the talk about the others at the ball - who drank too much, who snuck into a private room, whose performances were most favoured. In particular, there's a rumour that one of the performers may have a secret twin - though the persisting argument is that she’s just incredibly skilled at quick outfit changes. Those interested in politicking and gossip seem fixated on the idea that certain people seemed rather close at the ball, and they and are keenly interested in confirming who they are. If the speculation turns out to be true, then maybe there really is hope for a peaceful resolution to Montica’s feud.
But not all rumours are so hopeful.
There are those whose homes were targeted while they were dancing the night away. Frustration and anger drives their accusations and desire to find who exactly vandalised their homes - though more than a few of them are confused by the faint burn marks and charcoal left behind that appear vaguely garlic-shaped. Gossip here seems to range between vitriolic (those determined to hunt down the perpetrators) and the cautious (those who found evidence of someone having intervened). But they are closely aligned in their thoughts: they want retribution or revenge for the slights against them.
In the quiet of the neutral zone, it seems some keen-eyed witnesses saw at least one blood-covered guest wandering the streets in a daze. Whispers abound about whether the vampires mean to hold to their pacts, and the neutral population of Montica seem to be experiencing some sort of renewal of their religious beliefs - if the sudden increase of crucifixes is anything to go by.
Likewise, there are not-so-hushed whispers that the vampires were not the only ones taking a bite last night. There are accusations that the coming full moon will bring with it some brand-new transformations, unless those bitten can get their hands on the remedy for lycanthropy. With the full moon looming close, they don’t have much time at all to find one.
An even darker rumour weaves throughout these. There are people who haven’t been seen since that night. The morning after the ball, it’s assumed that they’re holed up somewhere with a hangover. But by the third day after the festivities, the grapevine is convinced they’ve been kidnapped - or worse.
Shops in the neutral zone seem to be on high alert, the people there seemingly less willing than usual to keep their stalls open past sunset. The usual bustle of the market is subdued, and as the week drags on, more and more citizens seem to take to carrying protective measures against both the lycans and the vampires.
There's a murmur throughout the populace. Mythical creatures have been sighted, among them a Nue - and there are some who are making their concerns about this well-known. If something isn't done to calm their fears, the threat of revolution is clear.
In Town
After the Masquerade, the town is much more of a wreck than it was before. Unsurprisingly, the neutral zone has taken the worst of it; fences smashed, doors busted in, windows broken… few hurt, thankfully, but most of its residents are angry with both the vampires and the werewolves. The youthful wolves may have been the most visible, but there are claims that the vampires were out in force last night; and more than a handful of citizens are insistent that they saw people hypnotised – wandering away into the woods, heedless of the chaos around them.Of course, there’s damage to both sides as well. Garlic has mysteriously found its way into the vampires’ district, causing discomfort to many as they try to root it out, while the Guildulf household has seen better days, made all the more potent by their leader’s injury. There is an opportunity in this: the people could work together and help each other out, and prioritizing the neutral district would go a long way in helping mend fences (metaphorical and literal). But is there the incentive to do so? Especially since…
Missing Persons
The rumour is so convincing that a few harried-looking servants of the Umbra Clan can be seen in town, posting up flyers that seek information on the missing persons. Those with information are encouraged to attend an audience with the Umbra to relay it directly and join their city-based investigation. (Rumour has it that there’s something suspicious happening in the sewers - in the days leading up to the vampiric investigation, manholes and sewer gates will be receiving a greater amount of cautious side-eyes from the populace.)However, the city isn't strictly under Umbran control - and there are some who balk at the idea of leaving the search to them. Particularly around the Laurelthirst, some hardy werewolves are rounding up a crew of tough adventurers to strike out in their own search party. They intend to strike out into the woods that surround Montica, and since they aren’t hampered by daylight, they’re determined to head out the moment they have enough people.
Of all the visitors to Montica, not a few of them are adventurers themselves. Parties are being formed, some of which are determined to track the supposed mythical creatures rather than any missing person. While it’s wise to stick with one of the larger groups, there is nothing stopping anyone from taking a shot at it on their own.
The Sewers
Dank and foul-smelling, it’s exactly what you’d imagine a sewer to be. There are a few surprises down here. The first, as some Readers would know, is a giant of a vampire who has sought refuge down here since the Story’s start. His presence has had the unintended effect of keeping the underground entrance to the Umbra mansion secure up until now. For if you follow the sewers far enough, you find a set of long stairs that eventually leads to a crypt - one that was destroyed a long time ago, only rubble and scattered debris remaining now. The door to the Umbra mansion is made of swollen and rotting wood, held in place by wrought iron bars - and blocked by a heavy slab of stone. It isn’t advertised as being a passage to the Umbra - any text indicating who this crypt used to house appears to have been destroyed with targeted prejudice - but those who have a good sense of space will easily be able to identify where they are.Those who investigate the maze of the sewers in small groups will feel a sense of dread creeping upon them the further they go. Torches splutter and die, leaving them facing just a pair of glowing red eyes. Those who travel in large groups will find… nothing. Only traces of creatures who seem to have scattered at their approach, disappearing quickly into side-passages.
And of all of those people who explore the sewers, those who have pliable minds will find themselves hypnotised. Perhaps they’re about to become food, or be turned into a vampire themselves. Perhaps they’re being given orders to turn against each-other, or are being lured to the woods. Either way, they’ve had the misfortune of stumbling into a vampiric vanguard - a group of scouts skilled in mind games and illusions, who are more than determined to clear a way past that very blocked door.
The Woods
During the day, there are precious few tracks to be found. Trails of human footprints end abruptly amidst thick copses of trees; the scent of spilled blood disappears beneath the carrion of woodland animals. Broken branches are equally likely to be made by deer as they are to be the result of a stumbling person, and as the sun sets, it gets harder and harder to find one’s way.Some determined trackers are keen to set up a camp for the night and see it through. Others plead caution and turn back to the city - though anyone trying to leave won’t get far from the fireside before a feeling of being watched sets in. The further they go, the more likely it is that the feeling of being watched very quickly turns to the feeling of being hunted.
More bats than owls seem to live here. They hang from every tree, their eyes seeming to glow under the moonlight. And they seem… hungry.
At night, any solo travelers will be quickly swarmed by bats, their leathery wings and sharp claws striking recklessly as they dive onto their target. Some with incredible aim may even latch tiny fangs onto exposed skin, leaving bite marks that will bleed profusely despite the small size of the wounds. It seems it's better to stay with the group for now, unless someone can come up with a plan.
The Kidnapping Victim | Illarion | Reader (cw: vampire shenanigans, depression, suicidality)
Which is remarkable, all things considered, given he hadn't felt much of anything since he first died. What bitter irony to find out that the human shape he'd -- felt? known? -- he'd had for months was alive and perfectly capable of all the emotions he'd lost, only to give it up again for undeath within a day.
It was -- stupid, almost, the chain of events that led him from the Umbra Ball to a vampire's embrace. From keeping largely uninvolved with Montica's problems to skulking around with the hidden antagonists trying to stoke its uneasy supernatural factions back to open war. He'd left the ball strangely discontent, boiling over with the need to pick a fight, hurt or destroy or be hurt, and -- one thing leading into another -- ended up in his human shape, stunned senseless by actually feeling again and ripe to be hypnotized and dragged off into the woods.
From there, it simply seemed -- natural -- in the throes of depression and shell-shock and horror to comply with his captors, eagerly. To give them the impression he was trustworthy, and soak them for whatever information they'd give. To meekly assent when they offered to turn him, and -- dying again hadn't been so horrible that time. (It quieted the chaos in his head. A little. And he could always go back to what he'd had -- )
While his fellow Editors might not have known he was around, or been keeping tabs on him, his disappearance hasn't gone unnoticed -- someone holding the Umbra purse strings noticed that one of their performers hadn't picked up his pay, and hadn't been seen since the night of the ball. There might be some problem of linking Illarion to that particular missing person report: The Umbra Clan only has a description and a nickname ("Magpie") to go on, and his human-turned-vampire-again shape has the bones but not the colors of the golden-eyed stranger who'd sung so plaintively at the ball. The clothes -- black, from head to toe, and veiled, decked in costume gold that's grown tarnished with sewer grime -- are more recognizable.
And they help him cling to the shadows as he follows the clan he's pretended -- at great cost -- to join, feeding them terrible rumors of the monster in the sewers (mind-reading, world-reaving) and listening to anything they'll give him. Eventually, he'll take what he's learned and make his way back to the Umbra, or the Guildulf, or someone interested in the city's peace -- and tell them everything.
Or choose his moment to sabotage the Orlock Clan's efforts, whatever the cost to himself.
But he isn't feeling well. And staying in this particular variety of self-chosen, self-imposed misery might be better than dealing with how and why he chose it.
(Somebody will remind him of his actual duty. Hopefully.)
i. encounter - sewers
Given the role he's taken -- quisling, useful fledgling -- with the Orlock, it's only a matter of time before Illarion finds himself involved in one of their "games". He's asked for it, actually -- asked for an opportunity to use his fledgling powers of illusion (and inborn talented for stealth) to stalk and confuse those making forays into the sewers.
They still won't tell them what their aim is there, and why they've got to get past the Night Haunter for it. His apparent knowledge of that worthy -- and expendable status -- are enough that they don't mind putting him at risk on the outskirts of the giant's vampire territory, glad enough to have him both keeping an eye out for the creature and hunting their other foes. Let the fledgling pick off an easy meal or two and reduce the chances the secret (maddening secret!) they're working on is discovered.
Though that's not quite how the story plays out, once he's gotten far enough away from the rest of the clan -- and herded his victim as close to an exit as he can. (Which might not be "very close", if they're strong-willed or resistant or inclined to try and lure him out of the shadows to fight.)
But at some point -- the nearby torches will flicker back to life, the shivering shadows stabilizing, the aura of overwhelming creeping dread dispersing sudden as fog before sun.
"You need to leave," one of the remaining shadows remarks, without much emotion. "Get back to the surface. Now."
ii. encounter - forest
As the Orlock get closer to their objective in the sewers, they play -- whatever it is -- closer to their chest. Their latest fledgling suddenly finds himself kicked out of the sewers after a night and a day's watch-work, told to go distract the hunters in the woods.
He's not any more loyal about doing that duty, either. Should some party of adventurers set up for the night -- away from the clouds of bats -- he might appear at their fire to warn them off with his usual laconic flair:
"Get out. There's not enough of you for this."
ii. rescue
Eventually, the act becomes impossible to sustain -- and Illarion's caught in it, trying to sneak back into the sewers behind another Orlock foray to see what it is they're looking for. It's his mistake for being too obvious about it -- and having no explanation for what he's doing when they catch him.
Not having much love for traitors, whatever their age in the family, the Orlock bind him hand and foot, neck and knee, stuff garlic in his mouth and leave him beneath a grate with a full view of the sky. And the sun, they say, sniggering, a lovely view of the sun at full noon.
It's an hour or two before dawn when they abandon him. Plenty of time to call for help -- if he weren't deep in their territory, someone might even hear and help him -- or shift back to his right shape and slip his bonds.
He doesn't do that. Having failed, it's easier to simply lie where he is and wait for his fate.
It won't be permanent. But it might be quieter, for a little while.
((OOC: one thread for the rescue will be easier! hmu on Discord if you'd like to chat logistics for it.))
rescue
Still, he had gone in wolfshape--this close to the full moon it was easy to shift, and he was returning, padding back along the predawn streets when he smelled...garlic. Lots of it. An offensive amount even to his nose.
The night of the Masquerade, he had smelled garlic, too, from his own kind, the lesser packs, making their moves, attacking anyone they thought was bloodkind, heavily armed with the bulbs.
Not again. The peace was fragile enough. Another night of interspecies violence would doom the entire city. He runs, obvious, large, to get to the bottom of it. He will not let the Appiennes ruin the city.
(ooc) feel free other people to tag in! You see a large wolf heading very determinedly in a direction it's pretty conspicuous.)