westwhere | the coup

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the coup

Hello to our last Big Event of the year, covering 2-22 December and also subbing as our test drive.

Current players can play here or make separate logs & network posts. TDM tourists are confined to this playground, but can include network prompts in their top levels.

If you’re trialling a character, you can apply them until 21 December without a game invite. TDM characters can participate in the sign-up quests without taking up a slot, but cannot vote for event outcomes.

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?

Taravast’s civilians take to spirited protests and seize the Palace of the Doxe. They intend to redirect Doxe Bonaccorso Spina’s attention and resources to his people, livelihoods suffered in recent undead attacks. The Merchant sends ‘help’ to oust the Doxe.

Amid the chaos, Vannozza Spina seeks to apprehend her grandfather. Her cousin Macaluso, Bonaccorso’s prisoner, can be liberated. Outgunned, outmanned and outnumbered, Bonaccorso orders the city burned down.

TDM TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | COMMON: THE COUP | NOTES

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TDM TOURISTS: THE BARREN BONES

You wake up in shallow water, other supine bodies beside you. The nearby occupants of a desert outpost greet you with a coarse translation and communication device and introduce you to their leader, the Merchant. He rescues otherworlders who were summoned to serve as weapons for warring undead factions, sending them east — where forgotten beacons can return them home.

A. A FRIEND IN NEED

Unconscious new arrivals are delivered every few days, recovered from the dunes. They are submerged in oasis waters. Some characters wake weaker of body and mind, struggling to focus their thoughts or their supernatural abilities — effects that recede within one-three days. Others are plagued by a drowning sensation for one-two days.

■ Help fellow newcomers as they regain their strength with sparring, a calming voice or a warm meal.

■ Newcomers must share tents and carry out camp tasks: hold the night watch, man fires, kill viper nests and excessively large scorpions or, fate help everyone if you’re related to Xie Lian, cooking.

B. A FRIEND IN DEED

Soon enough, the Merchant reveals more otherworlders are assigned in the nearby magical citadel of Taravast, which is on the brink of civil uprising against the ruling Doxe Bonaccorso Spina. Your fellows need you, cavalry.

The Merchant sends the fresh conscripts on a three-day journey to Taravast across a desert canyon, granting supplies, horses or seats in shared carts.

■ Fresh horses wait at specific landmarks, but some suppliers trade steeds for the better coin of rich merchants evacuating Taravast. If you end up stranded, find help.

■ Weather forecast: frequent, cruel sand storms that challenge even expert riders. Collect anyone who gets lost in the dunes — particularly near wild cougars.

■ Some Taravast refugees crowd or pretend accidents to loot your horses. A select few diplomatic convoys offer assistance, or try to confiscate your rides.

» THE LOUD CROWD

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OLD TIMERS: THE STREETS, RALLYING

Dissenting necromancers, healers and civilians begrudge Doxe Bonaccorso’s failure to ensure their safety and distribute repairs funds fairly. Many believe that Bonaccorso has been manipulated by Macaluso and Vannozza.

The initially peaceful protests exacerbate into after several days: demonstrators frequently come to blows with city guards around the 20:00 evening curfew. Protesters carry sharp and blunt weapons, small explosive talismans or banners. Some are ghost-summoning necromancers, others are sorcerers who command a small array of elemental spells.

■ Protesters try to enthusiastically conscript passers-by to their cause. Some assume characters leaving the Doxe Palace are nobility and try to kidnap and ransom them for an audience with Bonaccorso.

■ Merchants and the last few of Macaluso’s foreign suitors begin their exodus from Taravast and ask you to serve as escort in exchange for compensation.

■ Palace guards retaliate with disproportionate violence when they catch crowds without magic users or experienced combatants. Rescue some demonstrators — but prepare to run — or scout the streets so they can escape.

■ The clashes separate some Taravast residents from food, commodities and healers. Be a friend.

■ In rare good news, protesters share with Wrathion and Slick their battle and coordination signs and passcodes.

■ Some crowd contingents are less spirited about this endeavour — try talking them out of this revolution business.

■ Characters without powers or weapons can resort to the arsenal Wrench and Aang recovered from looters: daggers, maces, swords, bows and five-six man-sized water serpents, who heed those who first summon them out of their ~~Poke~~ balls.

» » THE BANNER MUST ADVANCE

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ALL TOGETHER NOW: THE BARRICADES

Within a week of the first demonstrations, the protesters and Doxe Bonaccorso’s guards have devolved into vicious and regular violence. Civilian demonstrators have been joined by many necromancers wielding fresh corpses, minor sorcerers, healers and a handful of expert combatants, assigned by sympathetic gentry. Bonaccorso’s men conduct regular inspections and arrests. The demonstrators meanwhile set traps of magical ice and explosives.

Led by the lawyer Giacomo Zanardo and the healer Sebastiano Bianchi, the mob seeks to storm the Palace of the Doxe and persuade Bonaccorso back to his senses, which have surely been corrupted by his absent nephew Macaluso and niece Vannozza.

RISE ONE, RISE ALL

Existing characters are soon joined by fresh reinforcements. Everyone receives the Merchant’s transmission:

”It has emerged, vocally, that Doxe Bonaccorso Spina no longer serves the interests of his city, his people or our contingent. The most efficient recourse is to depose him. How, and whether you choose to instate one of his successors, is of no consequence to me. I send a wave of our new otherworldly associates to assist you. Fair fortune.”

■ Zanardo and Bianchi organise a last bout of midnight merrymaking before the Palace attack at dawns. Meet your reinforcements at a… large, cold, rudimentarily decorated warehouse in one of Taravast’s dodgiest district. Close your eyes and smell the salted fish.

■ Old and new characters can collect further plain weapons from rioters. Slick receives command of five NPC protesters.

■ Pacifists can scout the Palace of the Doxe to report back the watch patterns, or try to persuade servants to open the gates.

■ Come dawns, protesters seize the Palace, meeting fresh waves of Bonaccorso’s guards in the gardens before advancing inside.

■ The Merchant informs Eleven and Shen Qingqiu they are required back in Taravast. He cuts a deal with local warlord Anurr, who supplies two transporters orbs that will transport the duo immediately.

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PARALLEL QUESTS (OPEN TO ALL)

Because of overlapping timelines, your character can only be signed up for one of the three following missions. Each quest will be capped at 15 characters: first come, first served. You can vote on game polls irrespective of what mission your character pursues.

NOTE: TDM tourists can participate in the quests and do not need to sign up. They can include prompts for one of the parallel quests in their top-level prompts, or can tag around. However, TDM tourists don't qualify for the NPC RNG draw and cannot vote on Bonaccorso's fate.

A. LET IT BUUUUUURN, LET IT BURN

Counting the last hours of his reign, Doxe Bonaccorso Spina takes to the great balcony of his Palace to address the masses:

”My people, my loved ones. Twenty-two years ago, I came before you, a man ruined: my son and my daughter taken from me. Is there any pain greater than burying your children? Only today: to see the blood of your blood and the blood of your nation, united against you. To know your nephew made weapon of a blade and your niece of her gold, and your people are indiscriminate in their arsenal. You tear down my doors, sirs! You bloody my halls! And when you stand against your Doxe, you stand against Taravast. And why? Because I turned my eye from you for scant moments. Spoiled! Shameless! All I ever intended were more years in your service. For we must strike a permanent truce with the dead. To survive. Know that even now, I see you: you are strong, gifted, beautiful. How it breaks my heart to know I must bury my children again.”
After this, Bonaccorso orders the 20 court witches of Bessis currently at the Palace rain down fire from the northern and southern towers, unto the masses.

■ Current Bessis leader Margherita Moretti is instructed to call her sister witches to Taravast’s greater walls, where they might direct further fire upon all who oppose Bonaccorso.

■ Ten witches will climb each Palace tower, targeting protesters. Sign up and discuss how characters can slip the witches sleeping herbs with their water, kill them, feign fresh orders from Moretti, etc.

■ The witches of Bessis have historically received the patronage of the imprisoned Macaluso. Many recently retreated from court, embittered by Bonaccorso’s support for the rival Attaryl. Moretti is reasonable, if loyal, and possesses a conscience. She rides out to bring further Bessis assistance.

■ Team up, pursue and capture Moretti down the chaotic streets of Taravast. Two characters — chosen on 10 December through RNG draw from the signed-up crew — can participate in a NPC thread to talk her down.

B. OFF WITH THE OLD MAN’S HEAD

Informed by Wrath and Wen Qing’s faction that her grandfather prepared to possess her body, Vannozza Spina moves to apprehend Bonaccorso.

Following his speech, the Doxe holes up in his quarters, guarded by several dozen Attaryl witches — masters of illusions, telekinesis and mind control. They will try to briefly steal or dim characters’ senses, thrall them into seeing their allies as enemies and crumble walls and statues upon them. The witches are easily defeated through physical means.

■ Characters can charge in militarily or infiltrate by presenting as palace staff or Attaryl reinforcements. Those who previously assisted servants can receive spare uniforms and directions. Sign up here.

■ In-game characters can vote until 15 December to decide Bonaccorso’s fate. Two characters drawn via RNG can share a NPC thread for a short discussion with him. Wen Qing and Wrath can optionally have a separate talk thread, given their participation in Vannozza’s plotline.

C. SAVE THE HIMBO, SAVE THE WORLD

Macaluso Spina’s attempt to persuade his Doxe grandfather of the merits of retirement condemned him to house arrest, awaiting trial on charges of assassination. He is secluded in his wing of the Palace of the Doxe, guarded by two dozens of Bonaccorso’s men and by illusion traps devised by Attaryl witches.

Characters can hear footsteps, men giving chase, the muffled voices of Macaluso or their companions, all unseen. A mirrored hall leads you back to its beginning, as your reflection mocks you — until you break a mirror.

■ Characters who have helped Palace servants can receive tips on guard numbers and locations, or corridor shortcuts.

■ Sign up here. Two characters picked via RNG draw on 10 December can share a NPC thread to discuss Macaluso’s next steps. Alina Starkov can have an optional separate thread, for her involvement in Macaluso’s plot so far.

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QUESTIONS

TEST DRIVERS

OLD TIMERS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Not to my plan, certainly.

[ Wrathion folds his arms, fingers tapping uneasily against one bicep as he thinks. ]

I don't believe the nephew, Macaluso, capable of raising a blade against Bonaccorso of his own accord. Either he was arrested on false charges, or he was... compelled.

[ Both plausible. ]

The niece, Vannozza, was the more sharp of the two. Macaluso was the underdog in this race, an idealist, a diplomat. Someone you'd get along with, I'm sure. Vannozza played the political game better.

[ No offence, Anduin, but politics is cutthroat and Vannozza seemed to understand that. ]

But there was another play I was unaware of. Bonaccorso had some sort of deal to keep this city safe. Taravast has limited defences of its own, and it seems Bonaccorso had actually been... paying off other parties in exchange for Taravast's extended freedom. In the midst of some chaos here, those payments were... missed. The city was attacked, hence the damage. The people believe what happened was Bonaccorso had been distracted or... manipulated by his niece and nephew in their ongoing political battles, and that he was still a kind and just man who could be persuaded. Far from it, he's been working with dark magic to extend his own life expectancy and his next goal seemed to be possessing his niece's body when his own fails.

[Anduin’s expression pinches at that. An underdog, someone you would get along with. Yes, thanks ever so much for that observation, Wrathion.

The rest of it, however, is quite a lot to take in, and he needs to take a moment to process it. He reaches up his hand again to pinch the bridge of his nose before he repeats:]

Let me see if I am getting this right. His next goal was to possess the body of the niece, who is the head of the faction that this Merchant had planted you to secretly support within the palace.

[He glances back to Wrathion.]

What happened to the city? You said there was an attack? Not the riots, I assume that those are. New.

Yes, in retaliation for the missed protection payments.

[ Wrathion pauses, uneasy. The fingers of one hand flex into his arm. ]

Our attackers were reminiscent of the Scourge. Armies of undead, mostly, organised into factions it seems.

[ There's a long pause, Wrathion hesitating a few times as if about to say something. ]

Among them is a faction lead by one they call the Beastmaster. He commands living creatures to his will, catches them in some sort of thrall. He chased me to the walls of this city, I could hear him in my head.

[Anduin stills at that description. He had known that something important had been coming, from the way that Wrathion had paused before he had continued, and yet.

He understands at once, of course, why Wrathion is shaken by such a person. He doubts that they are anywhere as powerful as N'Zoth, but to experience anything like the whispers once again...

He takes in a breath and lets it out in a slow sigh. Armies of the undead, a Beastmaster capable of controlling others through their thoughts. He supposes it is foolish to have escaped such troubles, here in a different land.]

This sounds like quite a lot of trouble for you to have found yourself in, in only two weeks, but then again...

[Wrathion.]

[ Oh?

Wrathion lofts an eyebrow elegantly, feeling a flash of irritation, then relaxes his posture -- turns to begin picking up cushions and throwing them over onto the floor by the fire near his unpacked selection of food. ]

Ah, but of course. I'm certain the great lion of Stormwind would never dare to be so interfering. Why, I don't doubt you'll simply stay here and let whatever happens simply happen. A diplomatic mind like yours would be so conscious of that sort of thing.

[ Honestly, Anduin. ]

[Anduin narrows his eyes slightly at the jab, but does not allow himself to rise in response to it. Yes, yes, alright, so he is certainly not innocent of wrongdoings himself. But this is a lot of trouble for such a short time, Wrathion, surely even you see that yourself?

It isn't his fault though, and Anduin has to acknowledge that as well. He watches Wrathion fussing with the cushions across the room for another long moment before he gathers himself enough to reply.]

You said that he was chasing you. Why? What else should I know about this place, Wrathion?

[What else aren't they us?]

[ Why? Isn't it obvious, via context? Wrathion throws the last of the cushions over then turns to retrieve two small glasses, brings them over and sets them down on the floor. ]

I woke up in my natural shape.

[ The Beastmaster knows he's a dragon, and wants a dragon. ]

[He supposes he might have gotten there in the end, what with the man being named Beastmaster -- all the same. The thought of it does give him pause. Dragons may be powerful creatures in and of themselves, but they are not invincible, and if this man has a way of getting into Wrathion's head and controlling his thoughts...

Anduin frowns, his irritation at Wrathion soothing out as he realizes exactly how precarious a position that had been for him.]

Will he be able to recognize you in this form as well?

Yes, they chased me even after I shifted. Apparently they know my scent, and that is enough.

[ Wrathion drops to sit on one of the scattered cushions, begins to pour a small measure of alcohol into the two glasses. ]

Nobody else here knows what I am, or of my encounter.

[ Just to be clear: this is only between the two of them. ]

[Anduin watches as Wrathion pours the drink into two glasses before he drops down to sit on a cushion beside him, letting out a long breath. He pulls his knees up towards his chest, wrapping his arms around his knees and allowing his gaze to linger on the fire before them for a long moment before he speaks again.]

I have allowed myself to dream of taking time away from Stormwind, though I will admit, this is not how I imagined doing it.

[He turns to the other man, his expression softening somewhat at last.]

I apologize. I do not mean to seem ungrateful.

I imagine it was quite the shock.

[ Appearing here, travelling to Taravast, having all the chaos around them. He picks up the glass, dangles it from his fingertips thoughtfully. ]

Where do you imagine yourself going?

[ When he takes time away from Stormwind. Where does Anduin Wrynn long to go? ]

Mmm.

[Anduin hums in agreement, reaching for the second glass that Wrathion poured and swirling the liquid in it as he considers the question.

In truth, he understands that getting out of Stormwind on anything close to a holiday is near impossible at this point. Realistically, he knows the best thing he could hope for is some sort of an inspection of the territories, accompanied by some of his closest advisors, guarded on every step. Though if he lets himself truly daydream...]

Somewhere quiet. Deep in a bamboo forest. With all the dumplings I can stomach.

[He smiles self-consciously at the thought of it.]

Dumplings?

[ Amusement wraps around the word. Anduin had always had an appetite for good food, it follows that would be central to Anduin's escape fantasies. ]

I do remember you being fond of Tong's red bean buns, too.

[ Since Wrathion does recognise that imagery -- quiet, bamboo forests aren't a key feature of the Eastern Kingdoms. Wrathion knocks back the small glass of alcohol he was toying with, lets the burn settle in his chest for a few moments before setting aside the glass and slowly toeing off his shoes. ]

Not that I have either of those things, I'm afraid, but I do have some rice cakes and fish jerky left in my travel pack.

[ Best he can offer, on the Pandaren food front. ]

[Tong's red bean buns. Anduin hums softly at the mention of them, his stomach reminding himself that he had not exactly eaten all that much in the so-called party they had left to come here. He had not felt all that hungry, thinking about what may be to come. But he supposes he could stomach some rice cakes and fish jerky, if they are on offer.

He swirls the drink in his glass once more, taking a careful sip -- not quite certain of what exactly is in it until he's had his first taste -- before he turns to quirk a smile at Wrathion once more.]

That will do.

[His gaze and smile both linger for a moment longer, before he turns his eyes back to the fire in front of them, attempting to gather his thoughts.]

If the Merchant succeeds in this plan to usurp Bonaccorso, who will fill his vacancy? You said that both his niece and nephew both were vying for the spot -- are they the only ones?

That we know of, yes -- though if they're both killed in the chaos there may be other candidates.

[ Wrathion slides his shoes to one side, begins unbuttoning his long, dark coat. Underneath it is a dark shirt with bright, elaborate embroidery -- part of his outfit as a dignitary until things went awry. Taravast certainly likes extravagance, and it suits Wrathion just fine. ]

I must confess, I'm not entirely sure how much our dear friend the Merchant does things out of the goodness of his heart. Karsa told me his city fell because Taravast thrives. It seems to me he might have reasons to be quite happy if it burns down around us.

[ Just an observation. He finishes unbuttoning his coat and slides it off, folds it carefully and sets it aside. Wrathion moves as if to lean back on his hands, then at the last second flinches one away from the floor -- tries to disguise the action by leaning forward instead and digging through his bags of food. ]

Here.

[ The fish jerky and rice cakes, that is. He digs them out and slides them across the floor toward Anduin. ]

[Anduin frowns slightly at that. No, he hadn't supposed that the Merchant would be doing this out of the goodness of his heart. Perhaps he does support one of the political parties of the niece or nephew, but. Anduin is not so naive as to wonder if there might be ulterior motives involved as well. He understands that this is how this works, at times. Revenge is quite a powerful motivator, all things considered.

He raises his glass to take another very careful sip of the drink, uncertain whether it would be better to continue sipping it as such or just down it all at once, when he catches Wrathion's jerk of movement out of the corner of his eyes.

He frowns slightly, studying Wrathion as he sits forward again and slides him the food. It had been subtle, and Anduin had been hardly paying attention, but the gesture had been -- just this side of unsubtle. His coverup only smooth enough for someone who does not understand Wrathion's physicality.]

What is it?

[You're not as smooth as you think you are.]

[ Anduin has always been sharp.

He supposes it shouldn't be a surprise that he noticed, but the feeling of being caught out is still there. Wrathion runs his tongue over his teeth, carrying on unpacking and arranging food as if to suggest nothing is in fact wrong. See? He can still do things, he isn't limited in any way. ]

My initial encounter with the Beastmaster included some... unpleasantness. The injury is mostly healed now.

[ Mostly, just not unfortunately fully. ]

[Mostly.

Anduin hones in on that word as well, especially since Wrathion had been intending to involve himself in -- whatever the next day might bring, and he is only mostly healed. From an injury that had happened several weeks prior, no less, if this had been caused by the Beastmaster when he had only first arrived.

It bothers him to think of Wrathion in such danger. It bothers him as well that Wrathion knows he is a healer and he is still trying to hide this from him. That he would be hiding it still if he had not forgotten himself, just then.]

Unpleasantness. [Anduin repeats, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.] You said that he chased you.

I did.

[ That is indeed what happened. Anduin simply hadn't inquired more about that part, and Wrathion had chosen not to expand. It wasn't strictly useful information, and not a pleasant memory. He sits back again, studying Anduin impassively. ]

He and his flying creatures chased me tirelessly for three days until I came upon Taravast.

[Three days.

Anduin had imagined a desperate flight, Wrathion remaining one step ahead of the Beastmaster and the potential of being caught under his thrall, though the realization that the chase had lasted for three days, that it had come so close as that...

Anduin's chest constricts tightly.]

You --

[He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut tight for a moment before looking back at Wrathion, his frown deepening as he does.]

Let me see.

[ Mmmm.

A frown flickers across Wrathion's expression in turn, and he hesitates a moment -- as if considering rejecting the offer.

Yet it would be inconvenient to remain even lightly injured while fighting broke out around them.

His eyes lower to his sleeve as he unbuttons the cuff and turns it up once, twice, then slides the sleeve upward to his elbow. ]

The salve I obtained accelerated the healing process. The swelling has gone and the gash has healed.

[ Considering he could barely move it at all before, it's really much improved. So, you see, he did do something about it!

... After someone approached him, and offered, but: details. The point is, it was looked at. ]

[For a moment Anduin thinks Wrathion is turning him down, and he supposes that he is within his right to do so but all the same...

He's grateful when he gives in instead. It's delicate, this tenuous peace they have found. It may not be much, but with all the history between them, even this small gesture of trust has a weight to it.

Sitting forward slightly, Anduin reaches to brace Wrathion's forearm in one hand, turning it gently as he moves to inspect the wound in the light of the fire. Three weeks... Well, he supposes it doesn't look too bad, all things considered. Still.

He flicks his eyes back up to meet Wrathion's, and the dragon must obviously have known where this was going, right? He hopes so anyway, because he's certainly not going to ask before he's turning his eyes back to Wrathion's forearm, Light beginning to pool around his hands.

It only takes but a moment, the spell sweeping its way through any damage it finds and rushing to mend it whole. Once it is done, he lets out a breath. Wrathion can scold him all he wants, but he feels better for having done this nevertheless.]

Edited (repetition bad) 2021-12-10 02:05 (UTC)

[ He's expecting it, so the sensation of the Light's warmth spreading through his arm isn't a surprise.

All the same, Wrathion goes subtly tense. It heats his nerve endings, works through the damage then slowly fades. The lingering caress of it eases some of his tension unwilling. It's difficult to feel anything negative in the wake of the Light's influence, a trick which Wrathion has some thoughts about.

He studies Anduin, his expression. He's still holding onto his arm, he notes, with one hand. Perhaps waiting for confirmation it's better now? In comparison to what Anduin is capable of healing, the injury was minor. Surely he has no doubts? Still... Wrathion supposes he can offer something. He blinks once, slowly, and tries to formulate a reply a few times in his head.

Anduin's hand is warm. The Light has clearly addled his thoughts. ]

Thank you.

[ There. Will that suffice? Good enough. ]

[Anduin watches Wrathion's reaction himself for any sign of distress or distaste, though whatever he seems to be feeling he's hiding it well. It had not taken much effort to heal Wrathion's injury, which means it had not been too bad. Anduin takes comfort in knowing that, and knowing he had been able to do something to help him anyway, before he realizes -- perhaps several moments too late -- that he is indeed still holding on to Wrathion's arm.

Flushing slightly, he releases his grip, moving to sit back on his cushion as he does so.]

It is no trouble. It's the least that I can do, in return for...

[He trails off, uncertain as to how exactly to put it to words, vaguely indicating around them as if that might indicate it in some fashion. Wrathion may have only been here for two weeks more than he but he's certainly learned more than Anduin so far and it stands to reason that he is grateful for the information he has shared thus far. And -- for his company, if he's being entirely truthful with himself. Anduin may not have been chased for days by some brute like Wrathion, but it hasn't been the smoothest realization process either, coming to find himself where he is. It is -- comforting, to find a familiar face in the crowd.]

Is this where you have been staying?

[A neutral topic. It would seem so, at least, judging by how familiar he had been in leading them there, and with the supplies to hand. Reaching forward, he takes one of the offered rice cakes, toying with it for a few moments though he can't quite bring himself to eat just yet.]

[ Wrathion watches as Anduin flushes, eyes dropping down to follow the hand detaching from his arm and drawing back.

Hmm. ]

Yes.

[ His eyes lift again, and Wrathion considers Anduin a long moment. ]

There were no personal effects that I could find. I presume the owners fled Taravast once the chaos began. You're welcome to sleep here if it suits you.

[ Does Anduin have somewhere else? He might have somewhere better, Wrathion supposes. Perhaps he might have charmed his way into something. ]

the coup

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