Sabra La Tau

Who: Bears! Dogs? Visitors?
Where: Ursa
When: Day 258, post game
What:

[A fresh batch of tea is simmering gently on the hearth, and a pile of memories sits on the table. They're gingerbread men, shaped distinctly like members of the unit.]

... Quaint.

Who: Lizardking
Where: Lizardking
When: Day 258, noon
What: Sit down and take your heartdiving like a man, Kon!!1

[Someone who has been slouching about in the background of EVENTS the last few days with a cold seems to have made a recovery and is trying to sneak out...]

Who: Any
Where: The Arena
When: Day 258
What: Good Ends

[The Call that resounds from the Arena is loud, echoing to every part of Sabra—a regal crescendo of notes followed by anticipatory silence. Should you follow it today, the Arena is that strange darkened landscape again...

Simple darkness fills your vision, no delineation between up and down, walls or even the floor. You can only see the throne in the far off distance, and two pathways each covered with a lush carpet: one pink, the other a dark blue. One bears the sigil of the graceful swan, wings outspread and flying toward the path's end, while a hunting dog bounds down the second, intent on its target. Should you turn around, there is no exit yet, but there is a small table holing a punch bowl and several large party platters.

However, should you follow either of the pathways, the landscape begins to change...]

Who: Anyone
Where: At the riverside
When: Day 258, before the minigame close
What:

[It's a normal day, the kanats are rolling, the bearbees are pissing off the beebats, and the derpy lizards are scattering as a tiny Hydra, arms full of fabric, drags along a reluctant, and possible protesting Monoceros.]

It will only take a moment, and you're the closest to a match I can probably get.

Who: All the good little anti-entropy engine girls and boys and others
Where: On the way back towards the dorms
When: Day 258, evening, so very shortly after Good Ends
What:

[As the festivities end and it’s time to head back to dorms, there seems to hang an uneasy feeling that has nothing to do with bittersweet goodbyes. The particularly astute may notice an uncomfortable stillness about; not a living thing is out and active, save the Blanks. Even the river seems stilled, as if holding its breath. The more sensitive can probably feel it coming, whatever it is. Even the insensitive may find something about the walk home distasteful.]