let's set d o w n some (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
groundrules) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2021-08-20 07:55 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2021-08-20 07:55 pm
feast and make merry
The following events should cover the span to 31 AUGUST. Feel free to make your own posts/logs, or use this one! Routes have been built based on previous plotting, but any last-minute questions can be asked here. Try to limit it to asking concrete outcomes for things you are definitely exploring in your tag-ins!
■ Don Macaluso has welcomed his suitors, including the party's very own Diego Hargreeves. And his wolves. He stretches Taravast's hospitality to a lavish masked fete, observed at the Palace of the Doxe. No expense spared, no opportunity to flaunt lost.
■ In attendance — sorcerers' schools, foreign dignitaries and suitors, prominent healers and academicians, artists and politicians, members of the Conclave and, somehow, the Merchant's hooligans. Good gossips, one and all. Show up or throw the gauntlet: those who do not come willing will be escorted in by guards.
■ Even Lady Vannozza and her supporters come to wish Macaluso well in his conjugal pursuit. She publicly gifts him a cryogenic rose, urging her cousin to award it to his intended. Macaluso calmly accepts the flower, then discards it on his table.
■ Out of respect for the nascent political contest, the supporters of Vannozza and Macaluso — yes, you — are seated at two different tables on each side of the fleetingly present Doxe Bonaccorso. The old man will appear in feeble health but firm dignity, excusing himself after a tremulous speech that ends, tenderly, "Citadels are for the living. They are for the gathering of means, of magic, for the making of families and legacies. They are not coin for commerce. I welcome you to my home."
■ For the grand finale, Macaluso's servants introduce a traditional fragile, sweet confection offered to his private guests. It can be refused. Those who consume the confection will find their strength and senses progressively deteriorate, threatening to kill them within five days.
■ A good showing by Fox, Mingyu, Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu, Xie Lian and Alina earned the Lady Odile more of Macaluso's favour. In gratitude, her servants send word to these characters only that there is poison afoot, without mentioning which dish.
■ Within the hour, Macaluso calls the celebration to its end, pained to announce it has been stained by sabotage and poison. Macaluso's guests, including the characters in his employ are drawn into private quarters and examined by physicians, who name the cause of the sickness — winter lily mist — but offer no clear antidote.
■ Frustrated, two healers will list two superstitious cures: the elusive, shady 'fire water' of the necromantic district's underground
■ Characters assigned to Macaluso will spend the night huddled together, with healers. Fearing her people will be unfairly faulted for the poisoning, Vannozza will lock her attendants in her palace wing. The atmosphere is tense, with Vannozza's people accusing characters and each other. Overnight, some of Macaluso's drunk supporters will try to enter Vannozza's palace wing and cause a brawl. Defend the lady?
■ Come morning, the poisoning is blamed on the ringleader of one of the recent protests objecting to Macaluso's marriage to a foreigner. Characters may circulate freely.
■ The necromantic district is a... literally and metaphorically shady congregation of small, run-down houses and the city's 'finest': criminals, thieves, the mates of your horsecar friend Caspar, actual necromancers and sellers of flesh parts.
■ Those who ask for 'fire water' will face a few days of exploration until an old beggar finally takes pity on their cause and, in exchange for wine, offers them an introduction to a secretive
■ The Watch are an eerie group of grotesquely deformed necromancers, some of whom have clearly been stirred back from death a number of times themselves. They explain that the 'fire water' is a brew that can be obtained from two sources: the blood of either a man who has killed many innocents ruthlessly (such as the many murderers and slavers who travel the darker corners of the district) or of a...
■ ...harpy, not unlike those encountered in the Stairs of Sighs corridor: winged creatures dripping tar and harrowing sorcery, that crowd in flocks at the periphery of Taravast. The harpies of Taravast are ancient defenders of the city, who have forgotten their purpose and turned feral. Their claws run sharp, causing cuts that bleed without healing properly for hours.
■ The harpies are best faced in pairs, but beware: if you speak too long, they will learn your voice and imitate it to lure in your companions. They will also attune to emotions and mimic the voices of people characters remember.
■ Retrieve two blood vials from either man or creature to the necromancers, along with two vials of your own blood, and the Watch will prepare two batches of antidote. One cup for you, the other for their own purposes.
■ Wen Qing has brokered access to the hunting grounds, for an easy entrance point. Those who wish to find an alternative route can try to have their characters infiltrate Vannozza's quar ters and steal her keys — but only theft such offensive can be carried out, so unite forces.
■ The Spina hunting grounds are a few hours' ride away, and carriage drivers seem unwilling to make the journey. Help the local economy: steal a horse.
■ The forests are a magnificent spread of everything dark and haunted, drenched in mist and sporting minimal visibility. There is a pronounced air of death and the stench of decay, with perfect, eerie stillness during the scant sunlight and a torture of creaking sounds, whispers and ghostly chills at night.
■ In addition to the typical violent forest fare — wolves, foxes, bears — the grounds also host the first sign of true undead: less well composed than some characters might remember the men of Anurr, lacking true awareness. Their garb and occasional garbled talk will reveal them as former sorcerers and witches of Attaryl and Bessis, killed during the confrontation between the two schools. Their spirits have been bound to protect the grounds — and they give vicious chase, calling on fire magic and wooing animals to help their hunt of invaders.
■ Run. Run fast.
■ Only two antidote owls emerge at night, drawn to drink from the forest's (shallow, broad) lake water. They are a mated pair, highly sensitive to sound, likely to escape on the first few attempts of capture and indifferent to magic. Farmhouse lesson: careful with the lake waters. The hands of bound spirits might seek to pull innocents in.
■ Owl feathers, ground and thinned with water, can create a highly potent cure that will take days to return a patient to full health — their hearts, eaten whole, can give one person instant recovery. Up to you, if you want to be that asshole.
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It's impressive despite how frustrated he may be at Five at the moment, and far more useful than teleporting with the feeling of burning alive.
He turns, tightening his shoulders with effort, gathering every muscle in his body to tense and strengthen so he does not show the weakness he feels. He turns to look at Emilia (intense relief hitting him swiftly at the sight of her in one piece, unharmed, if not tense). Then he looks to Allison and nods in appreciation for not letting Emilia go alone, for her help.
His anger still threatens at the frayed edges of his control, but he manages to look collected at the moment. Even sparing Five an annoyed glance at his continue failure to use manners.
"I trust you both were able to make it without too much trouble," he says as he approaches them both but gravitates near Emilia immediately, hovering closer to her. Still he does not stop walking because Five is right they shouldn't waste time - not when he feels the weakness increasing. "I know some of the Necromancers. None can be trusted, but it may be better to use ones I am already familiar with."
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That comment is for Five and for Five alone, because she is nothing if not a petulant older-looking/actually younger sister. She and Emilia got here on time, what were you doing, Five?
That being said she nods at Wrath's suggestion and is willing to let his experience guide this trip. She has been avoiding the necromancers, if she's honest, finding the work they do unsettling, but she's not above doing unsettling things to protect people's lives.
"If they are being cagey, we'll just find a way to get to the truth."
Only Five will know what that means, because right now only Five needs to know what that means. She's hoping that it won't come to using her power, but she's not going to put any of them in the position of making a bad deal.
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Her throat locks a bit, though. Wrath looks collected, but the fading shimmer of the crescent moons on her arm give the truth of his condition away. It serves to bolster her commitment to seeing this through. No one dies tonight, certainly not her stupid demon.
"Yes, we will," she agrees, quiet but steeled. Emilia's reticent to use forbidden spells, especially after what happened with Francesco, but lives are at stake and she won't be above ruthlessness if she sees need. Wrath would know.
... A lot of cryptic not-conversations are happening here, but it's fine.
Anyhoo. Much like Allison, Emilia is not familiar with this district, though not for lack of interest. The belle of the ball would not frequent such a place, but tonight, her group was threatened. And so the gloves must come off. She follows.
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His attention turns fully and abruptly to his sister when she makes an obtuse reference to her powers. The ones she all but swears she won't use, but suddenly she's perfectly willing to for these strangers. One of whom is a literal demon. He doesn't comment on it, but his exasperated expression is enough to speak for him.
After being the one to suggest they hurry, he hangs near the back of the group for obvious reasons. One to keep an eye on them, and two — he's the shortest, and the one who is most easily spotted from a distance, so it helps to somewhat camouflage him. He's still close enough to his sister that he can grab her if they need to suddenly teleport away. Not that he has any reason to worry.
Most of the structures look the same to him, rundown and ominous, so they're fortunate that they don't have to search each one to get what they're after. It's useful to know which house the most promising necromancers. And he won't say it, but he's more invested in seeing how they work their cures than he seems.
Then the other woman speaks and... oh. He remembers her now. The fireplace.
"For all we know, the poison originated here." There's an underlying question in that statement that he aims at Wrath, but he's already made his assumptions. It wouldn't surprise him if he even knew the protestor who brought it into the palace. For as often as Wrath came to this district, they could have made sure whatever it was worked on him.
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He would prefer it if they did not have to use anything of the sort, but he also knows the Necromancers are likely not going to be honest without some type of outside influence. Whatever they want in exchange for this antidote, it will be more than money and more than his own influence with them can provide.
He also does not miss the underlying question in Five's words, turning a corner sharply as he speaks clearly:
"If you have something to say, say it." Wrath comments walking with all the confidence in the world even as the weariness sets in further. "None of us have any idea where the poison originated from or why it was given. It could have originated from here or from one of the schools of magic or anywhere at all."
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Yes, she will rumor someone to keep that from happening.
But she can't help but huff a bit at the tension between Wrath and Five at the moment. Not helpful, boys, though she can understand why Wrath might be a little tense.
"Right now, that doesn't matter."
They can shuffle around and look for clues all they want, but for all intents and purposes, Wrath has a limited number of days. They're better off focusing on the cure for now, rather than trying to find the hand that wielded it.
"We can worry about where it came from once you're on the mend."
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"I see you're making friends, as always," she says to Wrath, unable to resist before she does indeed follow Allison's advice. That Allison uses once instead of if, however subtle the difference, gives her a bit of comfort.
That bit of comfort, of course, threatens to wash away the deeper they wander into the district. The stench of dark magic is everywhere, as though it's slithered its way into every possible nook and cranny. It tries to tug her this way, that. She could choke on it if she were to welcome its lure, but she stays the course, clutching tight at her cornicello to help her focus.
A row of shops appears before them after another sharp turn. Emilia would ask Wrath which shop he means to test out first, but the answer will soon become apparent. A disciple of his waits nervously by a foreboding entrance.
"Oh Great Teacher," the disciple says, their bottom lip threatening to wibble. It would be a lot worse if they knew Wrath was the one poisoned, trust. For now, they merely seem upset by the prospect of disappointing him. "Oh, Wise One of Great Esteem. I sought the information you have requested, but they will not speak to us."
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He only snaps back to attention when they arrive at a shop to someone already waiting for them. He's known how much time Wrath spends down here, even followed him once, but he's honestly thrown off to hear someone refer to him as his teacher. Apparently the exchange of knowledge he shared with the necromancers was more one-sided than he let on.
Does he have his own set of worshippers now? More importantly, did they know they were coming? He steps to the side so he can get a better look at them and exchange glances with Allison. Tell him again what didn't originate here.
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The disciple, for his part, does look confused as to why more people are with him than what he had thought. With the way the disciple currently looks (near tears for fear of disappointing him - and it is nice to wield any type of following again, respect again), Wrath only hopes to keep his poisoned status from him as long as possible.
"Thank you for looking into it. I am here now, sooner than I anticipated with... friends." That seems the simplest way to explain it. "We'll go speak to them. Can you wait in the space used for lessons in case there is anything else you might be able to help with after we do?"
The disciple nods, relieved they haven't disappointed even if they're curious as to why this cure is needed. "Yes, of course. I'll be there. This must be urgent."
The disciple steps in the opposite direction, not far. Wrath glances at the rest of the group like this is all completely normal as he inclines his head toward the door.
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You never know where good information might come in handy
But she'll let Wrath do the talking, and when he indicates they should move forward, she follows, taking in the state of things. The shop is uncomfortable, and cramped - much like what she'd expect from a place like this. There's likely a lot of stuff she doesn't want to know the use for. But for now, she keeps her mouth shut and watches.
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He knocks. A pause, before a small window on the door opens. Surveying of Wrath and his companions, and the window shuts. A moment later the door itself creaks open, revealing a small group of Necromancers on the other side. They all wear masks with long beaks, dress in black, none show their faces.
Wrath steps ahead in front of the group.
"I apologize for the late visit. Your help is needed, I'm afraid. A poisoning has occurred in the palace. The healers say it is Winter Lily Mist, and one possible cure might be found among Necromancers of great talent such as yourself. I do not expect help to be given freely. Name the cost."
The Necromancer takes a slow hobble toward Wrath. Far shorter than him, he lifts his gaze up to look at Wrath, holding one hand over the front of him like he's sensing... something. "And I see you've left out the important detail that you were poisoned yourself. ...a miracle to see you're still on your feet, standing, walking." They wave a hand then, looking around him at his companions. "The cost of such an antidote is great indeed. The cost to make it alone is in blood. Are you certain you wish to know?"
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Once the door opens, the demon starts in, and he can at least appreciate that he gets right to the point. Between their unexpectedly formal speech and the masks, it reminds him too much of the Commission to let his nerves settle. It's hard for him to get a good look around the door, so he wedges himself near the wall where he can do a headcount of how many bodies are down here. By the time he has found a position with a good enough vantage point they're practically at an agreement.
He shifts uncomfortably when their spokesman can immediately tell who was poisoned. They also seem to immediately know of a cure, which only raises more suspicion, and he spares another quick glance to his sister. When he looks back the necromancer is addressing the rest of them and he balls his fists at his sides, anticipating something unexpected.
Five has been waiting to hear what the cost is, since everyone seems to talk about them like gold isn't enough. But they've come this far, and he needs to know how they work. When it takes them longer than two seconds to reply, he pipes up loudly.
"Who's blood?"
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A bit too quickly. A bit too overeager.
At least, for Emilia's liking. Their long-beaked masks make it difficult to study them the way she would like to, but she's almost positive she's not imagining this — the growing anticipation, subtler though it may be from some of them.
She'd expected this. Her foray into darker magic is recent enough that she is by no means an expert. The di Carlos are light witches meant to shun the practice. But she's learned enough to know this kind of magic demands payment one should be reticent to give. It's part of why she refused Wrath's blood bond, but even then, he was thorough in explaining how it worked and the cost.
Emilia senses no such straightforwardness from the Necromancers. The devil truly is in the details. She pins the sharpness of her gaze on the one who answered Five. "And how, exactly, are you to use his blood?"
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But he stares at them with all the sharpness and danger of a predator himself as he waits for their reply. His body is poised like a warrior, like a serpent coiled tightly, prepared to strike at a moment's notice.
The Necromancers shift at the weight of his ancient glare, but their attention never stops being pointed in the demon's direction, as if they can sense the power in his blood, the strength of it. "It is for your benefit, not our own. If you want your cure, we must have your blood. If you do not want it then be resigned to your fate."
Wrath's voice is sharp when he speaks from his position, stepping closer to the Necromancers. There is vitriol in his voice because at least he is incredibly clear about the conditions of his deals of blood: "Liar."
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It isn't to say that she too doesn't sense the lie in the excuse they gave. They're looking at Wrath like this is the best opportunity that could be afforded them, like they've found an oasis in the driest desert. But that doesn't change the fact that they need this cure.
She steps forward, placing what she hopes is a reassuring hand on Wrath's shoulder, before she does something that is very much not reassuring.
"I heard a rumor you told us exactly what you wanted the blood for."
She remembers when saying those words used to be the easiest thing in the world. Now they have a weight to them, because she better understands the consequences. The air ripples with that weight, carrying her power across to the necromancer in front of her, who's eyes go milky white for a moment, and then he speaks.
"Blood is power. We take samples from all of our customers, either for security or leverage. Whichever happens to come of need first. Occasionally we will sell it to those who have need of it, for whatever political reasons may arise."
Yeah, that's what she thought. There's a bit of lingering influence still, and she continues. "Does it really need to be his blood?"
"No. Any blood from a living donor will do. That combined with the blood of a being drenched in death will produce a cure."
Allison smiles pleasantly. "Thank you. Would you give us a moment?"
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Of course Allison barely hesitates before she cuts in. Five doesn't miss the way she places a hand on Wrath's shoulder, and he narrows his eyes at her as she passes in front. He already knew what she came to do, but that doesn't mean he approves when they don't know how magic users react to her powers. Fortunately the necromancer clearly wasn't prepared.
They take blood from all their customers.
Well, fuck. Five gives Allison a stern look waiting for her to follow that up with 'I heard a rumor you forgot what you just saw' to the others, but maybe she's waiting for them to get out of here first.
"Anything else you need to know?" He huffs out a breath and turns to Wrath and Emilia, as if what just happened was perfectly normal. There's no time to debate, but he doubts anyone will argue about the cost after his sister found their loop hole.
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In situations like these, mere seconds can be too long.
It'd hardly be the first time she freezes when action is required. Before she can decide if she wants to cast a truth spell, Allison has already executed her own clever version of it. Much cleaner and inconspicuous.
Truth spells are forbidden for a reason: they hold severe consequences, and Emilia saw those consequences the one time she knowingly cast it. But the Necromancer doesn't seem aware of it, and his answer is as chilling as the manipulation itself. She wonders if this is how she looked to Wrath when she decided Francesco would give her answers, one way or another.
"We need to know how much blood," she offers, her voice low. Beyond that — and the obvious fact the Necromancers will need to remember none of this — she can't think of much else with all this brewing tension. She looks to Wrath to be sure.
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It reminds him of a far more advanced, twisted version of the truth spell Emilia did to the man he had been interrogating. It reminds him of what he too can be capable of in a different way. They have their answers. Still his stomach twists at the obvious show of power that can control words and actions, and he grimaces.
Wrath can feel the weakness settle further through his body, deeper, and there's no time to ask more about the power, to insist it not be used against them. His sharp gaze lingers on Allison, and he moves to stand beside Emilia.
When she looks at him, he meets her gaze and then nods. That is all he needs to know.
The Necromancers answer with ease. They don't need to be rumored for this part. "Two vials of each."
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And she will, follow up with the appropriate rumor to make sure that the Necromancer doesn't remember that he was coerced, before gesturing for the rest of the group to head outside. They'll have to figure out where to get their respective ingredients, but there are options in a city like this.
She waits until they're out of earshot of the shop, before turning back to the rest of the party.
"If we do get someone else's blood, we shouldn't tell them who's it is. Let them think it's yours."
They don't have to talk about her power right now, right? Right.
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"Funny how quickly they came up with the cure." He was thinking it before, he's just going to say it now. You know, when they aren't next to the necromancers who Allison could easily get to support or deny his theories. The comment may have been pointed, but he doesn't say anything about her plan to trick them into thinking it's Wrath's blood. They owe them so much for finding that out.
"Okay." Five sighs while he adjusts his tunic and looks around them, considering where they are and how quickly they can find a couple of victims. Donors. It's not like he didn't expect this is where they'd end up when they decided to go this route. "Someone drenched in death. Anyone have a preference?"
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"I know of someone. Donte Romano. He is well known for being a man who frequently has blood on his hand and makes a great deal of money off of it."
Wrath has been invited to quite a great deal of parties especially with the name he has been making for himself. These are the types of parties he refuses to go to, but it does mean he knows where he is located at.
"He has a large house on the opposite side of the district. I'll be the one to kill him."
Wrath is aware of how much he already owes the Hargreeves siblings, and he would like to not add anything further to that cost. If there is someone whose blood must be spilled tonight to give him the cure he needs, he will do it himself.
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It sounds like this Donte doesn't, either.
"For the living donor." Her voice is, to her fortune, steeled. Steady. "I know a man who was also poisoned. He seemed willing to do anything for a cure. I'll secure enough blood for two of them."
She can take care of that, so long as she remains vague about how much blood is actually needed.
All they'll need to focus on is this, then.
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The other woman's suggestion is actually more surprising, and he turns to her. Someone poisoned and desperate. That could cover several people he knows. They aren't family, so he can't decide how he feels about one of them giving blood. She obviously doesn't seem to mind the idea of sacrifices being made for someone more important to her.
"Who is he?" He's half-expecting Allison to have some opinions, but she wanted to get involved. He gives her a look anyway, in case she's about to suggest he teleport them around all night, which he's absolutely not excited about. It's her call if they're seeing this through.
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Political matchmaker that she is here.
Emilia notices the look Five sends his sister's way. The question, innocuous though it seems on the surface, makes her stomach clench a bit more. She tells herself it's the best option out of the bleak ones available. Already poisoned and looking for a cure, Agnesio will not be kept in the dark about the potential costs. He can make a choice, and... yes, she'll be taking a bit more blood than needed.
It's shady.
But her own blood would not take if she were to offer it. The Necromancers specified they need living human blood, and she is not human. But she's not about to give that information away so easily.
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He'll be desperate enough to survive and might misread Emilia being willing to help him as genuine affection, but they can deal with that later. Agnesio is just a smidge self-centered, but nothing they can't handle.
She will look to her brother because while she's all in favor of Wrath doing his own killing, she doesn't want him to go alone.
"You should take Five with you. Just in case."
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