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This log covers 7-25 April, drawing from previous discoveries. Feel free to tag in here or make your own posts/logs!

Sign-ups for NPC threads remain open until 23:59 GMT on 9 April.

THE LION’S DEN

WEN QING’S RESCUE | THE HUNTRESS’ CURES | THE HUNT | THE OLD MOUNTAIN

Image source.

SWEET HISSED NOTHINGS

CONTENT WARNING: MENTIONS OF SNAKES, SERPENT CREATURES

Prior to the Huntress’ arrival, the group’s healer Wen Qing is captured by a feral half human, half serpent creature. Characters might overhear visiting woodsmen who say a woman was heaved into the woods at night by a large serpent.

After journeying through the illusion-casting forests of Ke-Waihu, prospective rescuers discover that traces of struggle lead them to a 20m-deep, wide pit on brittle pale soil, close to the Fortune fetters ruins:

■ If you cross the Fetters, local prophetesses cryptically advise you to shed torches or clothes and to run to cold streams, if you encounter danger. A distressed Hyang-Tai pleads kindness for ‘ancients’ and ‘children.’

■ The surroundings of the pit are eerily silent.

■ Rescuers can spot a sleeping Wen Qing at the bottom of the pit, patches of her bared skin covered in a slick shine and showing the start of growing scales. She is surrounded by dozens of dormant snakes and nagas, tightly and peacefully coiled around her.

■ Wooden stakes have been thrust into the pit walls — serving as challenging, but workable steps.

■ Some snakes are poisonous — with many cures available in the forest or back in Ke-Waihu — but most bite viciously without venom. Some nagas emit phlegm that briefly impairs the vision or blinds.

■ Watch your step! The creatures are drawn to warmth, fire magic and sound. They stir and climb the pit to attack if they feel threatened.
■ Rusted weapons and broken shields litter the bottom of the pit, dropped in by previous… visitors.

OBJECTIVES

■ Remove Wen Qing from her dire straits.

■ Wen Qing is left with serpentine sensitivities, instincts and scales. To cure her, healers advise a seven-day brew treatment of widow’s lace — an opiate plant found in large forest bushes.

■ Grab a few flowers at a time and store them well — collectors exposed extensively to widow’s lace experience four-six hours of light euphoria, paranoia or bizarre visions — swindling foxes and philosophical parrots are apparently commonly imagined.

Image source.

THE MAIDEN’S WATCH

The Huntress joins the group, deprived of her powers and absent her steed. She pointedly stares at the ground, but those who meet her gaze may revisit harrowing moments in their lives.

Following group conversations, her shelter is rotated between two locations: a shallow forest cave and the now deserted snake pit that previously hosted Wen Qing.

Take turns shielding her from the animals that seem drawn to besiege her. The Huntress spends her time in tears or penitence and speaks in a maddened tongue. Voice coarse and wet, she summons the composure to share her knowledge:

■ The Beastmaster and she both seek to witness the imminent eruption of the Ke-Sanwon volcano, expected within a month. The Beastmaster will become more human as that time draws.

■ Ravens excepted, local animals obey the Beastmaster and spy for him.

■ To avoid the pull of the Beastmaster and his Hunt, seek out:

THE SHRINE

Trek through Ke-Waihu’s haunted forests and find the village’s only shrine devoted to ravens, outside of the elusive House of Ravens.

■ Wear pebbles or wood splinters from the shrine to disrupt the Beastmaster’s thrall on you. These items must be replaced after three days.

■ Fox spirits have raised dozens of illusionary copies of the shrine. The stone of the original altar is marked for ravens in a small wooden carving, while copy shrines worship foxes.

■ Young fox spirits imitate ravens or play distant bells to distract travellers from finding the raven shrine.

■ Sometimes, fox spirits swarm, offering to show the way if visitors perform a small dare or tell them a meaningful secret.

■ If asked, Ke-Waihu locals share the shrine was raised by a wanderer, who spent a month in the village many years ago. He was disgusted with the arrogance of Ke-Waicai’s zealots, who insist ravens are sacred and can only be worshipped in the House of Ravens.

THE BRIDGE

Ke-Waihu has briefly reopened its gates to the nearby village of Ke-Waiar — to which it is connected by a fragile and narrow bridge high above a misted abyss.

■ Wind gusts shake the ropes of the rickety bridge, and several wooden steps are putrid, dangling or loose.

■ Ad you near the bridge’s end to Ke-Waiar, you may find a couple of fox spirits are purposefully rattling the ropes to unsaddle travellers. Plead or barter: you can offer anything from riddles to treats, a good performance, a poem, a favour, a shouted confession of true love…

■ The village gates open between sunrise and sunset. Characters who arrive early find many villagers sleep until late in the day. By sundown, some locals become frantic, alert, increasingly irritable.

■ Water can be freely taken from any of the wells within Ke-Waiar to satisfy the quest. Villagers offer it gladly — they too suffer from resurging drought and dark waters.

■ If you arrive at sunset or night, you can see villagers turning to werewolves in various stages of transformation, between humanoid and large wolf beast. They are lured out of Ke-Waiar, gates closing behind them, and released into the thick, vibrant woods — with you.

■ Take cover in the forest, to escape the pack of werewolves and wolves. Some might prove lenient if they catch you, while others feel compelled to draw blood.

■ To wait out the night: climb the forest’s sturdiest trees with help of the ropes purposefully bound from tall branches. Some trees even host rudimentary treehouses.

Image source.

THE HUNT

The Beastmaster, his xenomorphic creatures and mutated animals arrive in Ke-Waihu to behold the ‘imminent’ volcanic eruption.

The Beastmaster’s creatures possess sharpened senses and hearing, intense speed and hard carcasses that provide additional but imperfect protection from blows and missiles. They often hunt in packs, but behave themselves in Ke-Waihu during daytime.

The Beastmaster excuses himself from the underground Hok-Shinn clan’s attempts at a welcome celebration, taking residence with his beasts in his village hut. He may be encountered walking the village beside five or six of his creatures, inspecting the markets and even advising new huntsmen — his manner slow, speech rough in a way that suggests oral injury beneath his facial bandages.

THE TRIBUTES

The Hok-Shinn and an envoy of Ke-Waiar each present 10 distinguished but eerily listless youths of their village to the Beastmaster.

■ These tributes are then held in groups of five across four abandoned homes, each closely watched by six-seven men of the Hok-Shinn.

■ Team up, rescue some tributes — and get out alive.

■ For easier infiltration, try the forest-facing back of the houses, or the generously large, defective chimneys. Beware slippery or broken roof tiles

■ Hok-Shinn guards possess great brute force… and gratefully accept liquor.

■ Some tributes might fight their rescuers and attempt to alert the guards. Some claim it is their privilege to join the Beastmaster, while others say they should be sacrificed to the volcano Ke-Sanwon for their families.

■ You can hide the rescued tributes in the witches’ huts or the Fetters — gather them coin so they can book seats on the next ship out of Ke-Waihu.

THE HUNTING SEASON

The Beastmaster’s creatures are mannered during the day, but join the Hunting season that kicks off after the full moon:

■ Participation is (OOCly) optional.

■ For five nights, come moonrise, some characters feel compelled to flee into the forests and run, hide or avoid detection — alternatively, they join the Beastmaster’s creatures as hunters, chasing this quarry and forest animals.

■ You can chase each other or ‘pack’ up against a common target or enemy.

■ Anyone can ‘hunt’ or ‘be hunted.' Roles can swap across the five nights.

■ Characters can develop overnight instincts akin to an animal of hunt or prey of your choice, and they will be helped by these animals for the night. Snakes and ravens do not participate.

■ Hunting can be vicious (seeking to injure, kill or consume prey) or symbolic (just violently giving chase).

■ Certain characters feel especially compelled to join the hunt and to protect the Beastmaster outside of it. These include characters who are given to war, hunting, violence, wrath, gluttony or feral/animal characteristics. It also applies to those who previously turned xenomorphic during the Beastmaster's trip in Taravast, or whom he marked.

■ To avoid the hunt, stay out of the forest, apply the Huntress’ cures or lock yourself firmly indoors.

A couple of fun locations for hunt participants:

■ A tree enclosure where characters can hide for up to an hour, invisible to their pursuers. They can still be heard or scented.

■ A small lake, silvered at night, in whose waters you can breathe freely.

■ A fox spirit shrine, where a group of four-five vulpine friends defend you alongside their territory.

■ Abandoned wells and the forest streams previously touched by dark waters. The Beastmaster’s creatures seem very curious about the liquid, but ultimately pull back, as if obeying instructions.

■ Areas with strong fire or utter dark deter the Beastmaster's creatures.

Image source.

OLD MAN MOUNTAIN

Dormant volcano Ke-Sanwon shows signs of upcoming eruption: soil swells, increases in local temperature and small, low-grade earthquakes.

■ Characters with magical powers may find their strength sometimes fluctuates, suddenly swelling or briefly waning completely.

■ Dark waters fill out some of the ground cracks that follow earthquakes. The liquid is cold, settling as if it were iced. This dark water heals shallow wounds on any skin it touches, or gently revives vegetation over one-three days on any ground it is set on.

■ The strength of the dark water fades over a week’s time.

■ Digging through the ground cracks reveals thin rivulets of the dark water are present all around Ke-Sanwon.They are more numerous the closer you get to the volcano. Dark water also smears the mouths of hell.

THE JEWELLER

A few days after the earthquakes state (after 20 April, for network posts), characters wake to distant screams, as a group of 10 of Ke-Waihu's masked concerned citizens drag handsome young jeweller Dong-Yun out of Ke-Waihu.

■ The group is taking Dong-Yun through the predatory forests.

■ You can play out finding the captors’ convoy separately, or tag into the jeweller’s rescue here.

■ Bring the jeweller back to Ke-Waihu. Dong-Yun can share that his abductors intended to sacrifice him to the Ke-Sanwon volcano. One of the participants in the rescue: please share with the rest of the class!

”I’ve heard, but I’ve never — they used to, when my mother was young… she told, me even when she had me, all the mothers hid their young. She told me, they used to give them to Sanwon. The prettiest, the smartest, the most skilled. Give it all to Brother Sanwon, give it to… so it won’t take everything else. Give it our best, and it will leave us the rest. But this doesn’t happen anymore. The mountain doesn’t want it.”

Image source.

QUESTIONS

Threaded | Flat

You can still sign up your character to participate in a RNG draw for a chat with the Beastmaster, the Ke-Waiar envoy or the jeweller until 23:59 on 9 April.

( ooc: if you'd like to participate to the jeweller's rescue:
— feel free to make your own log prompts in your starters about chasing Dong-Yun's abductors, until your characters run into them
— this is the thread for all characters running into the jeweler's abductors
— tag the latest response to this comment, to join in on the rescue.
— there is no tagging order — first come, first served, just have fun
— feel free to NPC what the abductors do
— mod NPC comments might make their way in now and then, but don't wait up for them!
— try to leave something for others to do too / don't finish up the group too quickly! )

A dark night, nigh miasma. Even the moon's face is shamed to witness the ten masked men who drag the youth — screaming, squirming, battling their hands — as if he were quarry. Worse still are the doors and windows that creak closed, so those within Ke-Waihu need not hear his wails. Need not know what they condone, implicitly.

The group of abductors is half-way to the aged feet of old man Ke-Sanwon, its fires kindling under the shedding skins of its crackled stone. They do not anticipate pursuers — yet one hears a step, signals the others to silence, and absorbs the look of the forest, seeking intruders.

Alone, Dong-Yun bats their hands, scratches their arms.

Edited 2022-04-07 20:58 (UTC)

It was no physical struggle for Cato to walk the journey to where the Huntress was being kept. It wasn’t even a mental struggle to try to tidy up around her as she spoke in tongues and madness. It was the whisper of strange cures and quests that was the real struggle, for him.

The nights were getting stranger and Cato was having a harder and harder time putting all his memories together, especially at night. He had found himself in the woods with blood on his hands and another locked section of his memory just the night before. He was broken - or, worse, breaking, and whatever this strange hunt magic was, it was making him worse.

He had hoped he would be immune to some of the strangeness of this place, but he had been slowly realizing that the gap between himself and humans was not as wide as it once had been, here. Magic made bridges, and not ones he was excited for.

Instead, they made him vulnerable. Probe to catastrophic failure. So as strange as these quests were, once he heard word that they might protect him, he decided it was worth experimenting with the superstition.

Unfortunately, he did not know the difference between Ravens and other birds. He was not a vet. So he was wandering around helplessly trying to find a shrine for a creature that he did not know the look or nature of.

He should have been given a module on taxonomy.

This was why he could be found in the woods, walking in circles and trying to follow an owl that kept swooping at him and stealing little chips off his plating.

ii. THE RAVEN SHRINE

[ Foxes and fallacies and curses and marriage rites. This is the legacy of Ke-Waihu, and they weave it like tapestry, drape it on his shoulders, to round his throat, and he feels the choke of it now, feels the breathless burn and toxic hold of impatience rueing him.

Farther ahead, the pearled white of three spirit foxes’ teeth is a snag of desaturation in a whirlwind of colour: greens of the forest, lavish, well-nurtured, a health so profound it can only be magically-wrought and artificial. The carelessly vibrant red paints and gilded tips of the foxes’ wind-ravished coats, and the shrapnel of sun-warmed and glistened stone that sits at the feet of the shrines.

All forty-two of them, on Wangji’s latest count. And the tally grows.

They have lured them in a merry chase, these foxes, fat and fair and plainly silvered, the grin of their long mouths at once cruel and sanguine. Earlier, they numbered six beasts, joyfully carousing and prancing between young growths of stone that stab skyward, growing. Before that, two animals. Heartbeats once more before that, eight foxes.

The game, Lan Wangji knows bitter on the tongue and rancid, is to show strength before starting barter — like a warrior eclipsing objection with a stolen glimpse of his unsheathing sword. The Huntress whispered, shrill, with breath barely stirred, that borrowed rock or crumbled wood from the raven’s shrine would protect those who face the Beastmaster’s hardships. The shrine withholds itself. Its keepers deny their path.

And the foxes have won. Only creatures secure in their victory can sit so brazenly, mere steps before Lan Wangji and his companion, tails trapped in lazy, playful wags, and beady eyes trained on the clutch and release of Wangji’s hands. Waiting, searching, wanting. For boons, when all Wangji owns are his bones and the magic that has, for years, broken them.

Carefully, then, to the side: ]

…apologies. I come bereft. [ As ever, deprived now of the means of Gusu Lan, no better than vagabonds. ] They appear to anticipate… gentle coercion.

[ A bribe by any other name, and Lan Wangji’s ledgers have long bled red for his debts already. They are two. Another may yet pay this round. ]

ii. SWEET HISSED NOTHINGS

[ In Ke-Waihu, they splinter and mill their rumours fine, more refined on the tongue than their well waters: ‘This mistress Qing, she is a harlot,’ ‘She must have eloped,’ ‘She beds a serpent?, ‘Who is she, mere days among us, in this wretched Ke-Waihu?,’ ‘Why did she sow trouble?’

Wangji wakes to the shrieks of the girl Hermione, a tempest who spills the truth of Wen Qing’s disappearance, words rushed like beads tumbling from a broken string. After, Lan Wangji scatters.

The forests, angular, predatory, dark. Crazed dusk and wind crackling against the gilded silver of his crown, like whipping. Speed favours him. The sour, starchy hum of a night that does not know itself obscures his path. He passes the Fetters to see hags and crones and deceived young girls among shed snake skins and ruins — he borrows their counsel, then their emptied direction, fists clenched and jaw tight and his sword Bichen like a thundering burn in his keep.

He is not first to reach the pit — by the depth and fresh distortion of the footsteps that embroider it, he is not the second, nor the third. Others must have found the ditch sooner, then despaired of it and fled for weapons.

It is… a crude thing. A burial ground, for snakes that coil and clamour, so deeply twinned and bound, Wangji sees them as a lattice around the shape of Wen Qing — smear of pallor between the flattened greens. She sleeps: in this, the heavens allow one blessing. Cradling her back and her knees, great scaled snake heads perch on the swell of her shoulder, and three creatures appear — and Wangji shudders, grip on his blade a torturous experiment in stubborn discipline, that Bichen should not in this heartbeat go unsheated — wrong. These beasts are estranged from the purity of nature and form, half men and half serpents, and the dark blemish of their slipped tongues hisses sweet secrets of sleep that only their lesser, snake brothers grasp.

They have married a beauty to a hundred beasts. And he cannot yet plunge to cut down the bounty of grooms and pay them his wedding greetings, not with the lady mired and entrapped, exposed to risk. ]

Those... creatures. [ Whispered aside, to the person who yet watches beside him, who must calculate with eyes as cold as Wangji’s own, how to negotiate an efficient descent. ] Where they so on your arrival, or did they spawn from snakes?

iii. THE BRIDGE | WEREWOLVES

[ Above him, the high calling of midnight birds stings like scratches of nail on fresh spun glass, on thinned ice, on the skins of a fat, ripened peach. Waiting for hurt.

Below, the pack that would deliver it: two wolves and two others, distorted — transient shapes shedding the clutches of human reservations. But for the sheer scale of the creatures, Lan Wangji might have drawn strength from their poverty of numbers. But the shortest… wolf stretches resolute and strong, spans a quarter of the tree’s length.

The beasts cannot climb. They know so now, Wangji and his companion — the wolves have made growled, gasped, jostling attempts, swaying the tree as if to tease it viciously free from its roots. No yield, despite this. In Wangji’s hand, the rope they deployed to climb up the tree is a heavy snake of tight knot, wet under evening’s chill — their misfortune, he knows, that they have travelled late, when the creature-humans of Ke-Waiar were freed of their human bearings, unleashed into wilderness.

It is a game he plays now, palm scuffed over the thick crust of the tree that bears them on high, alongside boards of hard lacquered wood and reddened walls washed by crawled moss. Among children, a treehouse would be a gift born of a doting parent’s affections. Here, the presence of suspended shelter condescends them with the sullen, hissed futility of contemplating an alternative to a wait-out.

He remembers, distantly, to murmur, beam of his long gaze still pinned on the creatures below, like an arrow to its target: ]

Sleep.

[ Soft; stench of his blood warm and organic, a lively note of discordance from the eerie, acidic cold of the land’s magic. He does not excuse the wound that has sundered his arm to the elbow in a clean, red gash — it mends already, the slow churned energies of his core stitching and sewing like a clan seamstresses presented with broken broderies.

The air stinks of his brief, metallic mortality. It arouses the creatures below, sharpens their hunt. It reminds Lan Wangji that the climb was arduous, unexpected, that he may yet be surprised. Can be surprised. That he owes protection to his companion, despite that, while the full moon draws breath long. ]

A full night awaits us.

iv. OLD MAN MOUNTAIN | DARK WATERS

[ Earth and turbulence: he wakes before the sun, to shivered gasps of soil unbound, where the forest’s rim kisses the volcano’s skirts. The hunt has husked and drained him, left him less master of his flesh than surreptitiously commanded. He wastes nights often in the creaks now, besides running rivers, sleeping on tumbled wood — as animals do, so he might yet give the village sanctuary from his body, made a weapon in foreign hands.

Five. Wei Ying. A list of painfully aggrieved. They need not witness him once more, enslaved by hunting whims.

When earth shudders again and swells, and greenery groans, ripping, while thin, short tectonic plates dance seismically — he does not think, eyes drenched with sleep, it is the volcano. Ke-Sanwon, Brother Sanwon. He has heard the rumours, listened to those who speak emptily beside him, for a man’s silence is his gold and they would steal it from Lan Wangji, trade him their chatter. He has felt the breath of watching, waiting, stirring warmth beneath his feet, the strange predatory anticipation that prickles the horizon.

When the ground’s tremors have passed, he is on his knees — adrift, the dark of Wei Ying’s robes matted by mud, while he searches the fresh cracks with itching fingertips, as if the ruptures were a constellation of red pox. Silhouettes and shadow, the suggestion of water. He has glimpsed this same wet in the village wells before.

Fists filled to scattered brim with filth and the skins of opened ground; they scathe and press moist and deep in his crevices. Water gushes out like blood of a belly wound, dark-thickened. He watches it, incredulous that the thickened smear might canvas his knuckles an opaque film, and he thinks, it will catch the light red, it will soften pale, it will not be this — tar and slick ink fresh brewed from strong pigment.

The dark keeps. Washes his fingers and the back of his hand, and he rakes ground until his fingers strip and break into blood and scratches, and the dark of the water seeps in, and heals him, and he does it again, and again, and once more, over and over, for he knows — knows, when he drags his hands to show the back of them, the barren stretch of his palms, soft and sweet-skinned like fresh snow for all their scavenging. Knows to show the inevitable visitor who has encountered him, or the earthquake, or the run of dark water beneath the ground that Lan Wangji has uncovered: ]

I have no qi. [ His mouth runs dry, emptied. No, the implication: ] This healing is not my own.

[ Therefore, they gaze in the face of something else, entirely. ]

Select your adventure:

On the narrow bridge to Ke-Waiar, where the fox spirits are swaying the bridge, and he's broken down in tears and is begging for them to go.

Outside of Ke-Waiar, after receiving water, on the way back to Ke-Waihu. The werewolves are out, and his first instinct is: panic, because they're wolves.

Rescuing tributes from one house, which he just scouted out as his friendly neighbourhood paperman talisman.

He'll try to intercede during the Hunts for those who're calling out in a panic; he may throw water in your face if you're too worked up as a hunter or one of the hunted on a given night.

Dark water collecting to bring to some of the farms who've suffered but have crops to save, after the hunts have ended.

Please tell me in subject line which you prefer so that I can write us a starter! Or, write a starter based on any of these prompts (or invent one of your own)!

THE SHRINE
[Anduin is still somewhat uncertain whether his decision to support the Huntress joining the group was the right thing to do, although thus far she has not done anything to act out against them. In fact, he almost feels sorry for her, with her tears and her tentative grip on reality. He wonders at her relationship with the Beastmaster. He wonders what has happened between the pair of them, their history, and who she might have been before... This. He does not suppose he will ever get these answers from her, and he decides after one failed attempt where she glances up to meet his eyes and suddenly he is face-to-face with Garrosh Hellscream, the sound of the Divine Bell ringing through his ears and through his bones as it collapses on top of him -- he will not try again.

She has managed to share other things that are of import, however. The shrine, a way to escape the Beastmaster's pull. Anduin has frankly had quite enough of this haunted forest by now, but if these materials from this shrine are what he needs to help Wrathion stay safe and free from the Beastmaster's control, he's willing to make the trek.

He just has to keep telling himself that, as hope rises in his chest, only to be dashed once more as he realizes he's just come across what is probably the fifth false fox shrine in a row. Anduin stands there staring at the thing for a long moment and contemplates yelling in frustration, if only that would not bring more angry animals his way.]

If I never see another fox again...

OLD MAN MOUNTAIN/THE HUNT
[Anduin has been spending a lot of time out in the haunted forests these past few nights, for better or worse. He has given Wrathion a charmed bracelet to keep the Beastmaster's thrall at bay, although as they have discovered the charms only last so long and must be replenished every few days. He's making one of these treks back and forth between the Shrine (now that he knows how to identify it) and the cave where he knows the dragon is hiding, when there comes the rush of feet from behind himself.

Many feet, to be exact.

Anduin breaks into a run, although the creature starts to run after him just as fast, and Anduin knows he will not be able to out-climb, out-hide, or out-pace it. He does not have that many defensive spells but seeing as it is his only option -- he turns to face the beast and summons the Light, casting Holy Fire and summoning a bolt of lightning down from the heavens to strike the thing where it stands.

Or at least, that is supposed to be how it works. It would seem he is experiencing a surge of energy, thanks to the volcanic influences, and with a cacophony of sound, the world erupts into a sea of light, throwing Anduin backwards through the forest and into a tree, where he slumps and remains motionless until you should happen upon him...]

THE TRIBUTES
[Anduin reaches forth through the eyes of the guard and out, into the darkness of the house beyond. It is difficult to see at first, but -- there. As the guard glances aside once more, he catches sight of a frightened child, and -- casting the spell once more, hops forward into their eyes. Quickly taking count of the group of them and the conditions they are in before he pulls himself back out of the spell and turns toward his companion in their hiding space with a deep breath.]

There are five of them in that house. No guards inside, that I was able to see. They are only children. The most difficult part will be getting by, without sounding the alarm. Although...

[He hesitates for a moment. It is not something he normally cares to do, but. Desperate times...]

I may be able to cause a distraction.

1. the bridge

[This seemed like a good idea at the time.

Xingchen has traveled fair distances even as a blind man that the thought of heading to the neighboring village on his own never gave him cause for worry. Even when he approaches that bridge and hears how the wind makes it creak and moan, almost as if it were alive, he bunches up his courage and steps onto the rickety thing. It's just a bridge, after all. He need only hold onto the rope railings and take it slow -

But then the bridge shakes violently and he throws his arms around that rope, holding on for dear life. He thinks it must have just been a strong gust of wind, but then laughter sails toward him on the air.

Ah. It must be naughty children, then. They can be terribly cruel.]

Please, don't do that again. What if someone falls and gets hurt?

[Getting hurt is probably not in the cards. Who knows how high up this bridge is? The echo is pretty evident.

Instead of an answer, Xingchen only hears that laughter grow in volume, two, maybe three voices altogether. He just grips on tighter and hopes they'll grow tired of this game.]

2. the wolves (CW for some blood and violence)

[Despite his treacherous bridge-crossing, Xingchen made it to Ke-Waiar and manages to fill up three vials of the well water there. He intends to bring the extra two back for anyone back in Ke-Waihu who needs it's protection. He contemplates staying in the village for the night, but he also wants to get back as soon as possible. Tarrying won't do anyone any favors.

But when he hears the village gates shut behind him, the noise seems to reverberate throughout his entire body. He shudders, either from the bad feeling in his gut or the sudden chill in the air. Maybe it's nighttime and they close the gates for this reason. That makes the most sense.

He travels for a time, hoping his intuition on which direction to go is correct. And then the howling starts, farther away at first, but rapidly approaching. Xingchen reaches into his robes and pulls out a talisman, one he had prepared ahead of time. Wolves and other animals tend to stay away if there's a fire. The talisman won't last long, though, and he can't make a proper campfire, so this is his best bet.

When something rustles in the trees to his left, he injects the talisman with some of his qi, igniting it immediately. The creature snuffles at the sudden light and holds off, long enough for Xingchen to reach for Shuanghua on his back, slowly drawing the blade defensively.

That probably wasn't the best idea, it turns out. Another wolf, unbeknownst to Xingchen as he was focusing on the first, sees that weapon and leaps at him, teeth and claws sinking into his bicep, ripping the fabric of his robes and tearing at his flesh until blood quickly soaks the remnants of the sleeve and drips along his side.

Xingchen cries out in pain and drops his sword, the weapon dully clanging against the ground. The talisman sputters out and he's left in another kind of darkness.]

3. the crossroads

[Xingchen has been through it. Surely begging with the other homeless and orphaned and invalids won't put his life in danger.

He doesn't do this for himself, of course. Xingchen has managed on his own for a couple years. But the rescued tributes back in Ke-Waihu need money to escape and they can't exactly do it themselves right now.

Xingchen, on the other hand, fits right in. He sits there with a few other unwanteds, one of his mended baskets in front of where he sits on the ground. His robes are still bloody from his werewolf run-in and his right arm rests in a makeshift sling, though his core speeds up the healing process.

The problem is Xingchen isn't good at begging. So the first few hours he sits here, he doesn't know what to say and ends up saying nothing. But after listening to the others around him, he grows a little more brave.

Upon hearing someone step closer, he raises his head and offers a small smile, one that wouldn't reach his eyes if he still had them.]

Might one show some mercy for a lowly beggar?

4. wildcard

[you know how this works baybee]

i. the lead up ( open )

[ It always surprises Five when people agree with him. He's so used to his family fighting with even the simplest of requests, like focusing on stopping an apocalypse, that when someone actually listens to reason he doesn't quite know what to do. Their current arrangement with Anurr is a risky endeavor, especially on his end, and he expected most of those who remember him to refuse any kind of deal on principle. But the majority had miraculously seen a greater benefit to hiding the Huntress than to piss off beings far more powerful than any of them. It nearly elevated his opinion on their collective intelligence.

In no way did that decision simplify their situation. They have an opportunity with very little room for error and far too much out of his control. The Beastmaster's arrival, the volcano eruption, and the various magical inflections he's picked up all have the potential of putting them very far off course. And as much as he'd like to put his energy into plotting the demise of at least one warlord, his siblings are his first priority. Since he still doesn't know where the others landed, he can at least keep the ones here alive.

He finds time to eavesdrop on anyone who looks like they have a plan, and offers his opinion before they ask. Then he spends the better part of a day gathering boards and nails to better lock up his belongings. (Which is a pain when your hands are still bandaged, but he makes do.) When you can teleport, there's really no need to keep a door anyway. ]

ii. a safe space ( hargreeves )

[ After an exhaustive search, Five teleports Allison to where he'd left Diego. The safe room is marginally cramped with all of the supplies he's collected since they came to the village, but there's space enough for three people. There are still chairs and a bed in here somewhere, even if they're mostly covered by now with various boxes, filled with everything from medical supplies, to food, to books and trinkets. Maybe a few potions that he told Hermione he'd stop taking, but they really are better stored here.

He's still slightly on edge when he lets go of his sister's arm. Diego had been easy to find, but Allison took him hours to track down. He half expected to find her back in the volcano, but thankfully she only made it as far as a shrine. He didn't even get his rant out before taking her back here, but he wasn't wasting time on her protests. ]

How many times do we need to go through this? [ He keeps talking before she can answer — ] We need to stick together. I'm not going to be running all over the village looking for you if a major catastrophe happens, which it will.

[ He's done that more times than he can count, and he's already tired for as much as he's jumped around today. Actually finding and getting them both in one room seems like an impossible accomplishment. Looking between the two of them, he takes just a moment to be satisfied that he managed it. ]

We were lucky to get a warning this time, so the best thing to do right now is to ride it out. I already sealed the doors and windows, so nothing can get in. There's plenty of food and water to last us. We're not having another Taravast. [ Pointed. They don't have to like it, they just have to stay. ] Any questions?

iii. the hunt ( open )

[ Five was never one to follow his own advice. The forest seems to gain more of a presence as the days go on, up until it's impossible to ignore. Five was never meant to live in the village, and beyond that, he was always too far removed from society to find a place in it. When he inevitably leaves, he finds a welcome moment of clarity that goes hand in hand with the most basic need to survive. The woods are a stark contrast to the wasteland of the apocalypse, but the challenges are all familiar to him. Some nights he follows an oppressive need to prove his skill and naturally honed inclinations, and others he seeks refuge from threats that lurk in every shadow.

The nights he disappears into them, he doesn't return until morning, quieter and eager to rinse the blood from his hands. ]

iv. after tributes rescue ( open )

[ The story of the tributes to the volcano, and their subsequent rescue, reach Five not long after his extended stint in the woods. Along with the rest of the village and anyone with eyes who saw the fire and made the logical conclusion. And good for them, but now that their drama has subsided, he sees the chance to finally take care of one thing plaguing him.

He's exhausted and more than a little bruised when he tracks down any of those who were involved. If he's supposed to atone for human sacrifices, fine. He's got plenty of witnesses to choose from. When he finds some of the usual suspects, he appears beside them with little preamble and probably more force than necessary. ]

Where are they now?

iv. wildcard

Anything else! Yes, he did lock his siblings in a room, and they may or may not need a hand. Choose your own adventure for the hunter/hunted scenario and I'll go with it. Also happy to make starters related to the serpents, hassling the Huntress, and any awkward post-hunt scenarios. Plotting comment here as you like! (Action/prose/whatever you want I'll match.)

[ Further threads contingent on three man escape log, please hold but feel free to request starters once we get some intro done. ]

Wildcard options:

1. Sweet Hissed Nothings: Following her rescue, Wen Qing develops scales on various parts of her body that she needs to shed and snake-like attributes that she needs to cure quickly, so she will be out hunting for widow's lace, and peeling the scales off her body, if she can reach them.

2. The Shrine: The foxes are cute and playful and temperamental, which is a problem for Wen Qing. Not easily swayed by her the cuteness of her brother or nephew (or other, adopted family), she relents a little when she sees the foxes playing, offering to lead her places, usually to terrible ends.

3. The Bridge: Crossing the bridge seems even more daunting than walking to her death had been. She focuses on anything possible beyond the bridge and the empty space beneath it, occasionally stopping to clutch the rope and wait for the wind to settle down. When she reaches the other side, she'll drop to her knees and let the fear subside before moving on.

4. The Hunt: Wen Qing is staying locked inside a house, with the Huntress' cures on, as well. Seek her out to keep her company.

Let me know what you prefer and I will write a custom starter. Or leave a starter with one of these, or something else entirely.

THE HUNT (OPEN)

Post returning from inside the volcano, Lorna's not in the same sort of mindset she'd typically be in to help rescue anyone, whether they're villagers or part of the group they've been travelling with. Marcos has always been better at that kind of thing out of the two of them anyway, although she doesn't know if that's what he's been doing. She's been gathering what she can to try to hold the beasts it looks like the Beastmaster has been sending towards the villagers back; it's not as easy as a task as it usually would be but she's managing. More or less.

She's got two makeshift weapons wound around her wrists so they don't slip free when she can't spare the energy concentrating on keeping them in place requires of her. Scratches and burns mark the side of her face, starting along her forehead and temples and spreading across her throat. They seem to spread as the hours stretch and she grows more and more jittery and irritated, eventually tearing one of the weapons she's got around her hands free and throwing it to the ground in frustration.

She hears someone approaching (or thinks she hears someone approaching) and whirls around, one hand tightening into a fist and the other emanating a green glow. Her eyes narrow as she looks for whoever's approaching, and friend or enemy, she hopes she is hearing someone real.

"Who's there?"

REGROUP (MARCOS)

At some point she goes to the house where the group Marcos has been sorted into has been staying, realizing it's late and not wanting to deal with hearing about breaking the curfew of her own house. Which is about the lowest rung on the reasons of why she wants to see him right now, but it's the one she'll give if she's asked about why she's coming by to see him.

She knocks at the door with a few heavy, urgent pounds and waits. A voice that sounds like Sage's echoes in her ear and she closes her eyes, shaking her head as she tries to will it away.

WILDCARD/OOC

[ if the first option doesn't work for you feel free to make up your own and i'll roll with whatever you decide! i'll also match when it comes to writing style (prose or brackets). feel free to PM me or hit me up on plurk (vdova) if you have any questions! ]

ARRIVAL | FOR LILAH

[ So this is new. Oh, Eda is no stranger to worlds different than her own -- but well, last time, she went willingly. And this place is neither the Demon Realm nor the human world, that much she can tell. As much as the foggy feeling in her brain will allow her to recognize, at least. She feels disoriented, like waking up after turning into the Owl Beast used to be, but worse. The fog is on the outside too, enveloping the stems of the trees all around her. Well, at least it matches, she supposes.

Trying to focus, she takes a good, hard look around her, trying to see if she can find any landmarks. ]

Hello? Anybody there? Luz? King? [ A beat. ] Hooty?

HUNTING SEASON | OPEN

[ Nightfall overcomes Eda. It's been a while since the Owl Beast simply took control of her, and she is none too happy about it. In her endless gray mindscape that they share, it looms, overbearing; its hunger stronger than ever before.

On the outside, Eda turns into her old owl beast form, and she will hunt. ]

[ In the morning, Eda finally returns to her human form again. She stumbles into the village, exhausted, until she finally falls onto her knees and retches. She coughs up an owl pellet, which breaks open and reveals a confused bird, which blinks for a moment and then flies away.

Eda puts her palm to her forehead and groans. ]

Really? A whole, live bird?

[ In the end, she just kinda... flops onto the ground. ]

Ugh, I thought I was done with this!

Threaded | Flat

NPC THREADS

RESCUE THE JEWELLER

Open - trying to protect against the hunt

no subject