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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

► fire and brimstone

( the volcano was the end point, the answer that they had to use as difficult as it would be to use it. and she was alone. oh, there was other magic here, other powers but moiraine didn't know them well for as fond as she was as some of the people and whether they could channel together as aes sedai would...

she felt alone. moiraine had power, a great deal more than most did but she needed her sisters. she would do something for the volcano but whether it would be enough, whether she'd die--

only time would tell.

some had thought to use ice to cool it, an idea she'd also considered, but perhaps the nature of it was necessary, the earth and fire, the magma itself to calm and quell it. there were weaves often never used, weaves few knew or had power to use. she'd never thought this would be a skill needed but it seems things happen in the unlikeliest of ways )

I don't know if hope will carry us enough... but I hope for strength. That we all have it.

( she might have ventured through to where she stood alone but there were others there in their efforts, magic and not alike )

► the aftermath

wildcard me! moiraine will be doing a lot of resting and recovering for the first few days to regain her energy from how much she channelled. she won't rest as long as she should so she'll be going around to check on the people she knows or faces she saw at the volcano. etc etc etc

( One abyss screams no different than another.

He haunts the volcano more indentured than its ghosts, wisps of his silks like the lent veils of maiden moon's mourning. Spirits whisper in his wake, with the quiet, abstracted animal hunger of creatures confined to instincts their form is too meagre to contain. He had thought, more foolish the man, that the rim of a volcano would be desert-like and raw, like a scab scratched too long, strings and striations and crisped, thin skins.

Instead, he walks amid wet and damp is the print of his foot, the quiet, morbid indignation of earth unsaddled from its constancy, dust deranged. No sect precepts bar exploration, but there lives in the Lan the tacit understanding that, best of all, is to leave the world untouched except by blinding glory. He drags himself tattered like frayed parchment to the mouth of the volcano — where he sees Moiraine dark and drained, like algae in stormed waters. Depleted, and there's a sting of ice amidst the heat, an impossible, expansive contradiction. She has breathed cold within the fount of the mountain, and he does not ask — does not scold — barely bridges their distance, hand soft when he clasps her wrist, chains it.

Blindly, mutely, harrowed, two fingers search the soft inside of her wrist, seek the empty lines of her meridians. She does not cultivate — a third finger, the gesture sketched — his liberal donation of the energy his core produces may go wasted without a home, scattered. He cannot say. Healing is a blind art, guesswork. Better the attempt than the regret thereafter. )

What did you do? ( He has asked this enough one day to suffice him a lifetime. It rasps of him, peels flesh off his bones. What is it men do, when they lose faith? This. )

( once upon a time she'd have expected a hand on her after something like this, would have felt it coming, the careful watch of her gaidin as she worked. that exists no longer, bond hidden or stretched too far in this place and lan not with her. not her lan.

the hand that instead touches hers, the kind and steadying gestures that bring her new comfort now comes from another. a friend.

she leans slightly into him, exhausted from the energy she'd expended, able for now to still hold herself up but needing the stability from the body beside her, gaze dipped as she still watches at the volcano before them, uncertain whether all of the efforts today were enough )

I worked with it, to hold back what it threatened.

( using the earth within the volcano, the magma itself, trying to hold it down and back and form something new to keep it sealed. for however long she could )

( She eases, like a cat, all fluid and untamed motion. As if her exhaustion has exiled her to exist uniquely in the liminal spaces between courtesy and disaster. All touch is intimacy, after battle.

He suspects, she has warred with the world. With herself. He cannot say with certainty, she has won. Unbidden once more, his arm dips into her own, knocked together — anchoring her, stringing them together. Balance is a bittersweet negotiation, but a victor cannot fall.

What did he wonder, earlier? If she was crowned in glory or in surrender? Audacity, to beg questions he knows already answered. )

How much of yourself did you yield it?

( Fractions, scattered. Perhaps an abstract whole. Even quieting, the volcano groans. )

Enough, I hope.

( any more and she would have died from channelling more than she could, though she couldn't have given less, not to this impossible task that she needed to succeed.

that they all did )

Though only the coming days will speak to that.

( her care is less for herself than for the volcano, for the people that they've tried to help. also she needs is rest to return her strength, strength she gladly gives to help them )

( There is a plasticity to Moiraine, to the weave of her sorcery, her natural and undiluted strength — a sense of finitude, of gradual depletion. As if, one by one, the granules of her sorcery combine to a sand castle, and the mere possibility of a passing breath, a breeze, could tumble it down.

And yet, she gave of herself, today. By the skeletal, brittle look of her, more leaf underfoot than woman recovered, Lan Wangji suspects — she gave more than her share. A cup of herself, brimming, poured down by a generous hand.

One by one, streaming spilled, a well fills. And Moiraine's dries out.

He thinks, another world, another life, and she dressed in their ashes, she might have worn Wei Ying's face and crowned herself night queen of a rooftop beneath an arrows' rain. He thinks, and his fingers crack and curl and catch on the soft bed of his palm, he has done with those who decide self-sacrifice must take flaunted precedence to strategy. To cooperation. To reason. )

One day, I shall sicken of all my martyrs. ( Heat absents, his flame quiets, cold. What are accusations but spears bereft of a mark? ) Will you withstand travel?

( To the villages, the long road, slow. )

With your help.

( watch her get like halfway there before the exhaustion is too much for her and she passes out. it's what usually happens, sometimes much sooner. and yet moiraine will never change how she acts, not with something so important )

The others-- how are they?

( if she weren't so exhausted she'd have looked for them, offered healing using their strength more than her own. but she doesn't know where they may now be )

( wrath is at the volcano, helping the spirits within the magic flow to move on. they are full of wrath, full of anger - a familiar feeling, and so he feels little strain in this process, welcoming them each onward, pulling them from the flow into whatever afterlife this place offers

which is still not concrete as far as he has been able to tell.

he hears the words of the magic user near him, speaking of hope and strength - hope is a dangerous thing, but strength they will have in spades, and he speaks clearly without doubt: )

This is not the end.

( far from it. as a being so ancient, he is not rattled by much even the volcano threatening to erupt beneath them. )

It may not be.

( she looks across to him for a moment before turning her attention back to the volcano, the movement within it and what she feels from it )

But hope and strength can always be found, can help.

( hope - a strange mortal ideal. it's difficult for him to wrap his head around the idea of them or how they can help. strength is one he understands better, the power that comes from what they have carved out for themselves. )

You have strength already - your magic is powerful.

( she tries to give hope to others, he sees.

does she carry it for herself? )

It isn't the only strength I hope for, nor not only for myself.

( especially when the more that moiraine channelled the more it took from her and she didn't know how it worked for others )

My strength allows me this. And I hope for all I can.

Marcos finds her not long after everything has finally settled. With his curse lifted, he's moving easier, and he's taken full advantage by offering to help anywhere he can. Those that were in the volcano are easiest to spot by how exhausted they seem, and it isn't hard to tell that Moiraine was involved. He saw enough of her powers that she might have played a significant role.

"Hey." He smiles at her, just to get her attention as she mills about. She looks bone tired. As much as he wants to hear a firsthand account of how they succeeded, he's not sure she's up for it, and if he can coax her to take a load off he will. "I was hoping I'd run into you. I figured no mermaids or volcanoes could keep you down."

"If only I had hope that our next journey would have less danger."

But it seemed that this world, as hers also was had many dangers to it.

She smiles at him, pauses before gesturing to a nearby fallen log for them to sit on.

He debates for just a moment before he takes the offered seat. Despite his efforts, the curse he'd been dealing with involved a lot of sitting, but it's good to see Moiraine taking a break and he won't deny her that.

"I'm holding out for a few less curses." Right now he'd take any number of undead and monsters as long as they don't weigh him down with something he can't fight against. If it had been entirely on his shoulders, there's a very real chance that everything would be covered in lava right now.

"I kind of forgot that we went through all that just to use their beacon." He didn't. Every day he misses his daughter, and he's only reconciled by the knowledge that she's not getting older without him. "...With how everything else has gone, I don't have high hopes it'll be in better shape than the last one."

"The curses were an unpleasant complication I'm not certain any of us knew how to handle."

Not with the sheet wild amounts of methods of trying to get rid of them, and she's remembering hers in that.

"I think after a time the beacon became less of a priority. The people were in greater need."

She's certainly stopped thinking about it and had been focused on trying to help those here.

He understands that, and he nods in acknowledgement. It says a lot about her that she was more concerned for the people here than the beacon or her own curse. His own role in assisting them was minor, but he has a feeling she was right in the middle of it.

"Do you mind if I ask... you were there, weren't you? How did they do it?" Stop a volcano. Marcos had been in the middle of trying to convince the villagers to evacuate when it all suddenly stopped. "I know you didn't do it alone, but I have a feeling I only saw a fraction of what you can do. That must have taken a lot out of you."

"It was nothing I won't recover from." Only her strength, energy that she'd regain from sleep and rest. Things that Moiraine wasn't good at doing but she put herself in these situations often.

"Each person there did something different, some I know and others I can't explain. I used the volcano itself, it's structure and nature to work to calm it." Redirect the lava, plug it in certain ways. To take control

Marcos sits back and thinks about that. It makes him a little proud to think that they worked as a team to do something unthinkable. That they'd actually be lauded and appreciated afterwards is kind of a novel occurrence.

"That's... pretty amazing. Had you ever done anything like that before?" His own powers aren't nearly so impressive. Absorbing light takes an enormous amount of his energy, and while he's useful for welding, they're largely destructive. There's no way he could have staved off an eruption.

ooc: so sorry for the delay! life stuff keeps getting in the way :( :(

"Not in something like this." Or that particular weave itself. She's worked with fire and earth many times but to work with a volcano, the magma and lava itself?

"But the individual elements are easily manipulated."

"Is that how your power works?" He's curious, though ready to back off if that question seems too personal. Everyone is different when it comes to their relationship with their abilities.

"You manipulate the elements?" He's seen her move the earth, but he's sure she's only shown a fraction of what she can do. It feels like it has something to do with being aligned with nature.

"We channel them, weaving them into a purpose."

But essentially yes, she manipulated the elements.

"And take care with them."

Marcos seems to understand that, and he nods.

"Well, whatever you did, it worked." He smiles, like it isn't all still a big mystery to him. "Thank you. If there's anything you need, I do kind of owe you my life, as far as I can tell. You and the others."

"You owe me nothing."

She might have saved him once before from mermaids, been part of this but Moiraine didn't take favours from friends. He didn't owe her anything.

"But I'd like to think a friend would offer aide when needed."

He hasn't forgotten the time with the mermaids either. If not his life, he might have lost his arm without her coming to his rescue.

"That goes for you, too." Whenever she needs a friend. He isn't done though, and he clears his throat as he gets to a point he needs to make. "I have a daughter back home. She's still an infant, but I can't imagine what would happen, if she thought she'd been abandoned because we died here. It's not nothing."

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cairhien - 2022-06-27 18:32 (UTC) - Expand

[Weeks, he has spent living in the same house as Moiraine. Not every day: they all have tasks to accomplish, and as such, they have not spent every night under the same roof. But weeks all the same, and he has grown used to her in the way that two quiet people sometimes sharing a space do. He had kept a distance from her at first, but she is no fire witch sacrificing children. She is not Melisandre. She is calm — clever. He can see that now.

So it is that when she becomes scarce not long after things come to an end, he goes and looks for her, and finds her resting.

He hesitates before he speaks.]

— You all right, my lady? You’ve been keeping yourself to yourself.

[He understands that; in many situations, he does the same.]

Edited 2022-05-30 06:57 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the tithe

moiraine damodred ► wheel of time

right after her GOAT moment -

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aftermath

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aftermath roomie stuff