2026-02-17: Fangs in the Dark
- Cutscene: Fangs in the Dark
- Cast: Unnamed NPC Persona User
- Where: Hirasaka Ward
- OOC Date: 2026-02-17
- IC Date: Thu Sep 27
- Summary: In the vast darkness of the twenty-fifth hour, under the full moon's pale and sickly light, a slavering beast begins to stir...
Scott Buckley - The Old Ones: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hddZ6yqtGlk
Night had long since settled over Hirasaka Ward, swallowing the world in some stygian tide. It had crept into every corner it could find, reaching into every crevice its tendrils could reach, until there was nothing left of light but what could be conjured by artificial means. Street lamps provided ample illumination for those seeking a midnight stroll, while the glaring glow of still-open business stood as an oasis amongst the dark that those streetside lamps could not reach. A car ambled through on occasion, its headlamps a brief burst of light amidst the black, but such reprieves were short and unreliable at best.
Quiet had accompanied the dark as well. The night was not silent - no moment ever was in Sumaru - but it was the closest thing that any could hope to achieve there. The distant sounds of traffic and nightlife were muffled by the great jungle of concrete and cement that rose before it, the breeze that meandered through the black was little more than a faint whisper in one's ear, and even the intermittent growl of an an engine forcing a vehicle forward lasted only for a few moments before fading into the night.
A chill rattled through his spine, but he knew not the source. It was not the weather, of that he was certain. Summer had long since passed, but even in the dead of night, the air only cooled. It was never cold, even when a stiff breeze whipped through the air, dissipating and dragging heat from one's body with it. No - it was something else that instilled that feeling in him. Something that began to twist his gut into knots, telling him to leave and find shelter before the Dark Hour set in, and never look back.
Then, the world stopped.
A sickly green surged the sky above, turning that yawning void of black into some putrescent ocean. The stars themselves were smothered in their entirety, their light snuffed out by the arrival of the twenty-fifth hour. The moon itself was not exempted from what transpired either. Its glow, once a pale and beautiful thing of pristine white, had turned to an eerie yellow-green, its light foreboding rather than a thing of beauty. There could be no doubt of the Dark Hour's arrival. It was too late to turn back - all that was left was to fight on, regardless of the danger.
Weaker Shadows - the dregs of humanity's collective consciousness - were dealt with easily enough. Numerous though they were, the things were as uncoordinated as they were weak. He corralled them, culled them, cut them to pieces, and collected whatever meagre rewards their dissipating forms left behind. Demons were driven off without much issue - the stronger ones did not see him as an entertaining prospect, the weaker ones saw him as too much trouble to play with, and those few brave enough to approach him were dissuaded by speech and by steel. The night seemed to be going well, despite the feeling of his guts knotting ever tighter.
Step by step, he worked his way through street after street. Every footfall rippled out into the still air of the night, before its echoes were swallowed by the distant sounds of baying Shadows and gibbering demons. Every movement sent a quiet rustling of fabric and clinking of weaponry out, a signal of his position to all that cared to listen. Even his eyes served as a beacon for those with sharp enough senses, glinting in pale glare of a corrupted moon. His pace did not slow, even as Shadows coalesced and lunged at him. It did not falter when demons sought to sate their curiosity with his blood. It did not stop when the breeze carried with it a low, copper-tinged, growl.
His eyes shot around in search of the source, their pace a sharp - almost frenetic - one when compared to the steady rhythm of his boots against the concrete path winding through the park. The whites gleamed amidst the darkness, standing as pinpricks of light in an ocean of black. He held his blade at the ready in a white-knuckled grasp, letting it join his eyes in a glinting display. Even his skin chose to glisten that night, with a bead of cold sweat etching a jagged path from brown to jawline.
Something snapped to the side. A branch, crushed underfoot by something heavy, its sharp echo joined by a chorus of rustling and crunching leaves. His gaze snapped to the side as well, and his hands steadied the keen blade of a polished katana towards the source. There was nothing there. Dirt and splintered wood, leaves stumbling through the grass in the stale air, weeds flattened by some wayward beast... but nothing that could be cut down. A breath escaped him, its warmth quickly vanishing, and he continued onwards down the path.
Another crunch from another side. Another swivelling of his head, and another shift in his blade's direction. There was something there, he was certain of it. Certain enough to stalk towards the noise and call upon his Persona, making ready to fend off whatever lurked in the black. Yet, there was nothing. Streaks left from digging claws, craters in soil left by heavy paws, a thin wisp of tawny fur caught upon the snapped edge of a low-hanging branch... but nothing that he could fight. His Persona vanished back into nothingness, but his blade did not lower.
He moved slower, but his movements were not careful. They were fearful. Deliberate steps had turned to shaking ones. The firm grip upon that keen-edged blade grew tight to the point of straining muscles. Sharp eyes darting about turned to frantic, searching ones, looking for the source of the low, growling, breaths. They seemed to come from everywhere, all at once. From above him, lurking in the trees. From behind him, so close that he could feel the subtle heat of breath upon his neck. From his sides, hiding amongst the deep dark of the shadows in his periphery. Everywhere but where he could see the source.
The steel of his blade continued to glint, mocking him with that useless imitation of light. It was more a distraction than anything, and he shifted it down, away from where he needed his eyes to be. But the glinting did not stop. His steel was nowhere near that spot, no more than an arm's length from him, yet light caught on something there. Two eyes emerged from the black at first, glaring at him with the savagery of a hungering beast. Its slavering caught the starlight, the steady dripping of a beast's saliva a staccato backbeat to the near-silent sound of paws moving across concrete. Then, its maw. A wall of copper-stinking fangs, each as viciously sharp and long as daggers, was unveiled as a beast's lips curled into the corners of its face.
He called upon his Persona.
He swung wildly with his blade.
The beast lunged forwards.
---
The Dark Side of Sumaru was always abuzz with rumours and hearsay. Sometimes it was a skeletal cab driver, spiriting people away to places unknown. Sometimes it was reflective surfaces of certain hues, showing those who beheld it a future most grim. The rumour du jour concerned a string of severe (but not yet fatal) maulings - too large to be a pet, too savage to be a man. Some speculated that it was something that had descended from the mountains. Others wondered if it was an escapee from a nearby zoo. While no consensus had been reached thus far, all agreed on one thing: Stay away from the park when the moon is full.