westwhere | the tithe

the tithe

The Arc III finale stretches until 2 June — and it’s erupt to no good.

THE TITHE

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THIS HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE

The Ke-Waicai believers prepare for human sacrifice rites to prevent the eruption of the Ke-Sanwon volcano. They will lead tributes to the volcanic crater, which is lidded by the grounds of a decrepit haunted temple — known as the House of Ravens.

At the heart of the temple is a trodden dais that comprises four slowly receding plates. Numerous temple columns and deteriorating walls offer overnight hiding places, but beware the flinching statues and irritable large ravens. Meat, blood or shiny offerings can distract the birds.

■ Use the three previously gained keys to infiltrate the House of Ravens at night through forest pathways revealed by the Huntress.

■ Entrants to the House of Ravens are fully or partially depowered. Their ancestral curse is immediately lifted. Their strength is pulled into the Ke-Sanwon crater, which brims with raw magical power.

■ Hide on temple grounds until dawns, when the dais plates fully open to reveal a 10-metre entryway into the volcanic crater.

■ Overnight, characters are relentlessly tempted by mirages that only they witness: the eerie voice of a loved one might coax them to commit their greatest sin, or they could repeatedly relive memories that led them to such follies.

■ Characters guilty of drunkenness and gluttony feel deathly parched, starved and drawn to a lavish spread that is constantly far out — and ends up comprising raw corn and stale water, when they finally reach it. The lustful find their companions irresistible, or trail after a delectable beauty, who dissolves when touched. The wrathful mull violence, while the envious suspect their companions possess what they most desire. The proud are contemptuously incited to prove their superiority or independence, while the slothful give in to callous indifference towards their peers.

■ The stone statues that decorate the House of Ravens retaliate once visitors succumb to their sins: smaller sculptures throw stones or throttle nearby sinners, but only move when you do not look into their eyes. Larger 4m-tall statues exit the walls and give (slow) chase, retreating after 10-15 minutes. The statues stop attacking at dawns.

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LET THERE BE BLOOD

CONTENT WARNING: BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF NPC PAIN, TRANSFORMATION

By dawns, the believers of Ke-Waicai have rallied their tributes — each crowned with wreaths of branches and crops — before the open dais. Roughly two hundred villagers attend the rites, along with eight powerful priests who use elemental magic.

■ A first sacrifice walks a long narrow plank that starts from the dais and goes a few metres into the mouth of the volcano. The plank shivers under from heat, but withstands weight.

■ During 15 minutes of exposure, the volcanic magic enshrouds the sacrifice, who painfully transforms into one of the animalistic tar creatures housed in the labyrinths of Ke-Sanwon.

■ Magically sensitive characters can feel this tribute now hosts volcanic magic, and that Ke-Sanwon’s power has slightly diminished.

■ The rites are interrupted by the significantly weaker, but wrathful Beastmaster, whose xenomorphic creatures attack the temple and seek his missing son

■ Characters should free the remaining tributes during the skirmish. They can be as nerfed as you need (if at all) during the rest of their stay in the House of Ravens.

■ The dais must stay open to access the volcano. You can take control of it and of the House by defeating the magically endowed priests, (literally) shouldering the head priest’s ancient white raven and holding its leash.

■ Pass the raven around and defend the bird’s current holder! Whoever carries the raven is often targeted by the village mob and the Beastmaster’s creatures.

■ The clashes last a few hours, until the Beastmaster and villagers exhaust their forces.

■ Diego Hargreeves, Xie Lian, Wrathion, Daenerys and Jon Snow apprehend the Beastmaster, slaying him, when he refuses to relinquish the Brotherhood. Decide who lands the killing blow. His last words: ”You’ve… seen this place. My animals… our dead… have more compassion than these living.”

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FIRE AND BRIMSTONE?

The volume of magical energy and tormented spirits inside the volcano weighs heavily on the fracturing dark water mirror that has prevented Ke-Sanwon’s eruption so far. It’s going to blow, unless you:

■ Throw more dark water in to fix the mirror fissure. You can get dark water from volcanic cracks, dried wells and creepy crop fields.

■ Use ice / cold magic and ol’ science to cool down the volcano and help the mirror heal. Or lend Moiraine and Magnus a hand as they work with cold magic, and protect them while they cast.

■ Help Wrath and Wei Wuxian exorcise the volcano’s ancient spirits. Many have lost consciousness, reduced to memory fragments and feelings of wrath, pain and resent.

■ Guide villagers to bring sea water. Anduin (on top of the dragon Wrathion) and the harpy Eda are flying in supplies. Viktor is coaxing shipments from his werewolf friends of Ke-Waiar. Large phoenixes are also up for grabs for deliveries. Ensure couriers can safely arrive and quickly discharge their water.

■ Several characters are set to each absorb some of the magical power contained within the volcano, developing aftereffects. They must walk the wobbly plank and stay exposed to the volcano magic for under 15 minutes to avoid transformation: the longer they linger, the more power they take in, feeling as if they are burning from within. Exit quickly and rest copiously after. Those who spend over 10 minutes exposed suffer intense fevers and require immediate medical assistance to cool down.

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WILL SOMEONE THINK OF THE CIVILIANS?

Beyond the House of Ravens, assist villagers who want to safeguard their possessions or evacuate by sea.

■ The gradual spread of Ke-Sanwon’s magic infects some villagers with temporary animal traits. These effects dissipate within three-four hours.

■ Characters who remain in the villages may feel more irritable and resentful, overcome by the feelings of the volcanic spirits.

■ Coordinate water and supply deliveries with those at the House of Ravens.

■ The Hok-Shinn are divided in their response: some resort to daylight robbery to secure the funds for their own safe departure; citing security, the men of Sairen unsympathetically rally commoners into designated parts of the village, often splitting apart families that then need help finding relatives; alone, Weisi’s followers keep the peace, but are frequently overwhelmed by waves of panicked villagers, thugs and animal hybrids.

■ The magical spillage overwhelms the forest fox spirits, leaving some enraged and prone to attack. Others assume the shape of beautiful wo/men and ask escort into Ke-Waihu for shelter, without disclosing their fox natures. These ethereal strangers betray their origins with cold smiles, glimpses of fleetingly sharp teeth, a fondness for chicken, and… is that an extra set of ears? No harm befalls those who bring a fox into the village, though s/he may insist on now being your lawful spouse.

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THE AFTERMATH

With the clashes and Ke-Sanwon subdued, the villagers of Ke-Waicai request back their temple keys and white raven. They lead the party to the beacon of the House of Ravens — the beautifully carved and now-closed dais above the volcano.

■ Party companion Hatisse confirms the beacon can be revived within days.

■ She warns that an eruption was prevented by depleting the volcanic magic now, but that the threat could recur within five to 10 years.

■ All character curses (ancestral or individual) are lifted, and powers return completely.

■ Spend some downtime in the villages. Ke-Waicai offers the most luxurious, but frosty accommodations, while the werewolves of Ke-Waiar are tired, but thrilled hosts. Those who suffer from lycanthropy are now experiencing fewer and fewer ‘nocturnal episodes.’

■ In Ke-Waihu, villagers have now calmed and are grateful for help with reaping the fresh harvest and watering their crops, as well flows revive. Every other night, Hok-Shinn Weisi organises a bonfire with village musicians, hearty dances, fresh bread and ale. Villagers seek to marry off their… alluring spawn to their saviours.

■ Within days, Hatisse summons the party to the activated beacon: a pool of white energy, in which one must slowly descend. Characters who were dropped or AC swept in May enter the beacon first and are presumed returned to their home worlds. Characters set for a canon update follow in — but are spat back by the portal and return within minutes.

■ Inevitably, the remaining volatile magic of the volcano disrupts the beacon and ruins the dais. Happily for you, the Merchant will soon get in touch with your next ticket east.

QUESTIONS

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( Once upon a midday dreary, while Wangji slaughtered rather merry,
Over dais plates many and a volcano ready to soar —
While his sword scratched earth, nearly clapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping his shoulder amid war.
'Tis a fool, he muttered, tapping awkwardly at war—
He'll go away if you ignore.

Ah, distinctly Wangji remembers, while he rushes to dismember;
And each cultist's dying ember sketches fresh ghost on volcanic floor.
Wearily, dreams of tomorrow, when he'll reap patience from his sorrow,
For now there's this bird to borrow, ugly as sin, its face a sore
For the rare and hideous folly of the bird that squeaks for sure
And how Wangji would throttle it, evermore.

And the awkward, sad, uncertain voice of this man — is Magnus wearing curtains?
Truly, foreign fashions fill Wangji with terrors never felt before;
So that now, nigh-gagging at their meeting, he yet stops to give in greeting — )

Relinquish her. You risk to wound her to her core.

( This fool of a warlock, dallying with the bird like a bore,
Wangji offers his arm and little more. )

Edited 2022-05-20 01:02 (UTC)

[ Ah, splendid.

His favorite blank-faced exorcist from Clan Lan. Magnus normally wouldn't be this excited to him, but he is desperate to shove off his bird-keeping responsibilities on someone, ~~even more so after Lan Wangji had taken time to painstakingly composed such a thrilling poem in his head while Magnus was busy trying hard not to die~~. Unfortunately, his efforts to hand off the bird are being curtailed by it suddenly flapping its wings and hitting Magnus in the face with its luxurious white plummage. ]

Are you sure we're not simply allowed to kill it or let it fly away? I fail to see how keeping this thing intact and in our possession is beneficial to the overall success of the general plan. I'm also fairly sure PETA doesn't exist in this universe, so only the priests might take objection to anything happening to the raven.

[ What a lucky universe it must be... Anyway, Magnus is normally not this vindictive towards animals, but he's just about had it up to ᴴᴱᴿᴱ with this bird. Plus, he has a giant volcano to deal with and is losing precious time with this side quest. ]

Edited (I forgot the / ) 2022-05-21 00:58 (UTC)

It must survive.

( Preceding banks, but a violent transaction: the bird testily transitions from one disgruntled, loud beacon of mirth, magic and gravitationally defying hair to Lan Wangji, purveyor of all that is studied scholarly discipline and precisely two reliable shades of facial calisthenics.

Altogether, the raven does remarkably well to survive the change in atmosphere, from electric cosmopolitan to arctic chic. It is — rash, heavy when it sinks claws then beak in Wangji's shoulder, the column of his neck, until its footing settles and a wing spans eternity to riotously backhand Lan Wangji's cheek. He suffers, between the growls of the Beastmaster's xenomorphic creatures, the tumble of cracked stone underfoot, the yowls of the volcano, churning, heat lashing his limbs. He was born, perhaps, to suffer.

But not fools. )

You speak in tongues. ( Absently, when the head of the tempest rears and three men advance at a step that aims for threat and lands in the general vicinity of 'drunken meandering.' He carries the bird, Lan Wangji's is the burden — until he side-steps, intending Magnus as his shield, and the raven... hops onto Magnus' back again, clearly at ease.

...rejected, once more. Story of Lan Wangji's life. ) You have wooed the bird.

[ There's a comment about speaking in tongues he'd really like to share just to illuminate Lan Wangji's dour life, but it never makes its way out of Magnus' brain. That's because the bird clearly has chosen him for a master in spite of Magnus really being more of a cat-person, and it's latched onto his jacket with all the clingy fervor of the average Black Friday shopper, only the bird has sharp talons to help it maintain its perch.

Sharp talons that are compromising the threads on one of Magnus' favorite jacket. ]

I know I'm very irresistible, but I prefer poultry to be dinner. Not a pet.

[ One of his hands waves with flair, fingertips briefly glowing along with what looks like a faint mist weaving between each digit until the leash transforms from a paltry chain around the bird's foot to a full-on commercial bird harness. After a few test yanks to make sure it's secure, he impatiently hands the other end to Lan Wangji.

Congrats on being a bird-dad...again. ]

Since you're the worst bird whisperer I've ever come across, this should make things easier. Hold onto it firmly this time.

[ Second time is a charm right? At the very least, it better work, or Magnus really will be using this bird to stuff a nice decorative throw pillow as a belated wedding gift to his husband. ]

( He is once more with child.

And lo, his latest and most fractious of children trots does not inflict the worst of its violence on Lan Wangji's soft grasp on te new corseting harness, but seems instead content to mutinously wish torture and slaughter upon him from a safe distance.

As it remains perched.

Now climbing on Magnus' head.

It would be a matter of mirth and mockery and a few fingers pointed inelegantly the way of one gravity-defying hairstyle and of Lan Wangji, gently tug-tug-tugging the leash with the efficiency of a flushing mother reconstructing the coveted virginity of her unmarried eldest, after the maiden in question has entertained a few years' worth of a blossoming career at a pleasure house. Some things cannot be coaxed into fruition.

Lan Wangji gives the string another pull. Swings behind him to absent-mindedly topple and beat down a lion-jaguar mutation. Riotous, the raven flinches away from incoming stone projectiles, then deepens its claws' hold on Magnus' garments.

A stalemate of sorts has been struck. And Lan Wangji, helplessly after: )

Apologies. ( This may well be the zenith of his consternation. ) It does not concede.

( Magnus, you are just that irresistible. )

[ ...oh, for fuck's sake. ]

Not the scalp! Not the scalp!!

[ Once upon a time, he was the High Warlock of Brooklyn and a prince of Hell, very well-esteemed, brilliant, wise, talented, magical. Loved by (most of) his peers, cherished by an angel boy, hated by his enemies, quite respected in a lot of circles.

Yet today, he's a scratching post for a blood-thirsty raven who has little respect for 21st century hair fashions. Magnus chooses not to see this as a valid criticism of his style but as just the bird having no taste whatsoever, and while his fingers flame up with barely-there restrain, he doesn't fry the bird like he wants to. There's still enough self-control left in him that he can taper the urge, even while he's flailing about. ]

I am not showing up to my wedding bald, so we're going to have to go with Plan C.

[ This time, a gilded cage appears around the bird, locking the bird behind bars because it's clear Lan Wangji has no idea how to tug on a bird harness with gusto, and Magnus doesn't have the time to give him a proper lesson on it. ]

I don't think you want to know what Plan D is, so do try not to open the little cage door.

( He does not flinch. Later, he will name it his foremost achievement, that Magnus crafts and coaxes a gilded something from astringent nothing, that ashes coalesce to round the raven and yield it fresh home — and it concedes the struggle, never docile under the yoke of Lan Wangji's leash, but sufficiently cooperative that the next tug sees the earnest duo of cantankerous raven and graceless home drift in increments behind him.

Inevitably, he is targeted. Pursued, first by the wisps of spirits that graze at his feet, dispelled by the quick, silvered waterfall of Bichen in down swing. Then, by soft, bloomed vermin — hybrids of nature, mutated by power. A dozen are crushed under foot. Then, he wrenches himself free, drags himself back, starts the retreat, before the greater, hungrier creatures may begin their hunt of them.

The — warlock granted him the means to transport the raven. Lan Wangji does not waste an opportunity so craftily supplied. Only, recedes, and waves Magnus behind him. )

Come. I name you shield. ( From the horde, incoming, while Wangji's lesser, weaker hand strays towards his blade. )

[ Now that someone else is in charge of carting the raven around, he's got his hands free to be productive. That means the next few mutated creatures to assail them wind up being singed to ash by a huge rush of flames, flooding their way free of Magnus' fingers until they're all engulfed. It's what he'd wanted to do with the raven for the past half-hour or so, and he's quite gratified he can take his anger out on something. ]

I vastly prefer Magnus to 'shield,' but we'll discuss your lack of social skills another time. Keep an eye on the bird and where you're going.

[ Where are the others who were supposed to join them on this little venture? It can't just be down to him and Lan Wangji as the Chosen Ones as far as bird-sitting goes. Who else can they pawn the bird off on?

His eyes flick around their immediate surroundings, mostly spying more flailing monstrosities and a robed cultist or two desperate to get the bird back. They're quickly dispensed of with more fire pluming free from his hands before Magnus motions Lan Wangji to follow him in a less lethal and dangerous direction... which happens be closer towards where the dais is.

So not really all that less lethal after all. ]

We might be coming up on a dead end. How would you like a free trip via magical portal?

( A fast death, cruel and cunning. He watches the spectacle, transfixed between awe and awareness, and the private, selfish study of a practitioner at his craft. Talismans can execute such feats, but too often their spells lack similar fluidity. This sorcery is... flexible, elegant, strong.

...like a slap to the face, which the raven happily imitates, to the best of its winged ability. Belatedly, as if it were the legacy of another body, Lan Wangji's cheek ripens with sting. He does not shift — only, gives Magnus chase to the dais, adrift when they are inexorably stranded.

The mouth of the volcano bubbles and blooms behind them in angry, boiling wrath. He minds his step — nearly stumbles back, the raven in his hand swaying, its cage a fortress. It's clean string and the assassination cord's bite when he lays it down, so their pursuers who enter their radius of action might taste the sting of knotted or cut limbs, if (when) Lan Wangji tugs.

Then, the suggestion. He hesitates — )

To what cost? ( The gain is immediate. The payment — and there is always one, always a balancing of toll and advantage — less so. )

Aside from a little bit of nausea because you're unused to it... none at all.

[ During his own brief foray as a mortal, he'd handled portals just fine, so he doubts anything will happen to Lan Wangji except Lan Wangji has to know where he's going... or risk falling into limbo.

Right, how does he explain that to the guy without freaking him out? ]

You have to tell me a destination we've both been to. I can't send you where neither of us have been before, or you'll wind up lost through time and space. For all eternity.

[ Nailed it. ]

It's less hazardous than it sounds. I've only gotten one person trapped in limbo, and that was on purpose. Someone just got on my bad side that day.

[ A family tiff that he has no time to grace Lan Wangji with –nor would he want to. Not when there's a whole horde of beasts approaching the dais. Lan Wangji better decide fast, although if all else fails, Magnus can let the beasts wander into the portal and join his dad. ]

( He listens.

Come what may, and disaster never fails to rise to this provocation, Lan Wangji has never not acquitted himself of the provisions of patience. The man speaks. At length, in absurdity and abstraction.

Compelled to excuse and freshen his suggestion, from heightened personal risk to passable deathly travesty, as if they do not both read between the paltry lines of his intimations: less hazardous than it sounds does not deplete the method of hazard.

It threatens, strangely, to achieve the reverse. Even the bird encaged in Lan Wangji's grasp turns its head towards him with perfect, sharp and unmistakable scepticism, as they both take a heartbeat to pass judgement of the man, his invitation, and find them inexorably... wanting. )

I shall walk.

( Across seas of heat and crackled grounds and ashen corpses, one does. )

[ ...Wow. Just wow.

Double judgment from both bird and human. Magnus would like to think he's earned more credibility than that. He did magic together a fine solution to their raven problem, and he's also flambéd most of their present threats with just a few flicks of his wrists. Give him a little credit here. ]

Let me put it this way. If you walk, I'll have to walk with you then come back here, and that's only wasting precious time we don't have to calm the volcano.

[ Or he could send Lan Wangji off alone, but the man has proven incapable of handling a single raven. Magnus doesn't trust him to survive an onslaught of rejected animal concepts. ]

Think of it like going through a doorway, one with nice, swirly colors that can take you to a lovely spring or a food stall.

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the tithe

one medium-rare raven coming up (for now)

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