the clock tower

[groundrules]

Happy Hallow-elevator! The clock tower event lasts between 22 October and 8 November. ICly, the tower incursion stretches around a week, and you’re welcome to have your character investigate something else, if they finish early!

THE CLOCK TOWER

---

ALL IS AS ALL WAS| TRIAL & NO ERRORS | THE TOWER

Image source.

ALL IS AS ALL WAS

Play it cool, as Serthica’s customs officers pore over your passport papers, before grudgingly allowing you overground. Minaras, you hear, is hunting a delinquent.

Both it and Eidris fare well, with no sign of the damage that preceded the Unwinding. Locals no longer behave eerily, dragons and clockwork droids roam freely, and everyone hates taxes.

Yet perfect strangers insist they know you. Your assigned address leads to a different house. The roads, buildings and architecture look ‘lived in,’ but changed.

No one remembers the Unwinding.

■ Burlap mannequins sometimes watch from mirrors, windows and reflecting surfaces.

■ You might hear shifting and scratching in Eidris walls.

■ Minaras has doubled its bounty for a man not unlike Leonard McCoy.

■ Black fungal spores are found on the increasingly voluminous experiment vials, specimens and supplies thrown out by Minaras medical facilities.

■ Frail and confused, Ellethia survivor Zenobius finally awakens. A short thread is up for RNG grabs.

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TRIALS & NO ERRORS

The guard troops that Eidris and Minaras assign to the Neutral Zone now protect King Thivar and High Councillor Arabella during the annual Sanctuary Reckoning trials. Both adjudicate cases that violate the ceasefire.

Prolonging the trials buys time for your companions in the clock tower.

■ Create a distraction — flood the judgement hall rooms? Fire? Illusions?

■ Pose as trial participants: perhaps you are of Eidris, and you caught this wicked Minaraian raiding your home? Mayhap this wretched man of Eidris stole your girlfriend? Wait, you’re a Minaraian who wants to kill King Thivar?

■ …organise breakouts, if Thivar or Arabella have your jailed. You are first imprisoned in makeshift Sanctuary cells — all but poorly locked, glorified closets. Get a trial sentence!

■ Thivar and Arabella treat the trials as a box-ticking exercise.

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THE TOWER

As Eidris and Minaras play court, you can infiltrate the Neutral Zone clock tower of Vassarizhia.

■ Only token security remains. The door is unlocked.

■ Karsa supplies paper talismans that must be burned in the watch fire at the tower’s top level.

■ Each burned talisman amplifies the reveal spell that Karsa activates. Link a finished burning thread by 8 November to help the cause.

■ A November mod post will describe how much of Serthica’s ‘undeath’ characters can see.

■ Placing Magnus’ dragon eye before the tower’s telescope will allow characters to always see Serthica’s undeath, moving forward.

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✘ ELEVATOR ETIQUETTE

Imperfect stillness dominates Vassarizhia: your footsteps do not click, words die in your mouth. The tower’s rickety gear slither silently. Your heartbeat aligns with the clock’s tick… tock.
You have the growing, gnarly certainty that you have invaded something ancient and alive.

The tower’s entryway level is large, deserted, stacked with gears. At its core is a dilapidated open elevator shaft.

A large sign says to find and pull the floor lever, if elevators stop.

■ There are two elevators. Each narrow lift can hold up to four people, crammed. The upper half of the carriage is chain-link fence, while the floors contain hatches that sometimes open mid-travel for 30 seconds. Hold on to ceiling-bound leather straps.

■ The ropes holding the elevators are thick, but tattered.

■ The elevator’s creaking squeals can awaken swarms of 1m-tall bats and bat wyverns. They rattle the lift, but ultimately withdraw.

■ The elevator can stop at as many levels as you want (or none!).

■ Beyond the second level, you feel intensely paranoid and see your companions as the persons you most hate/fear for five to 10 minutes. Reaching the top, you are tempted to cut the lift ropes of those who follow. (The ropes and elevators recover, after crashing to the bottom. )

■ On each floor, as you exit the elevator, a nearby wall shows a different scratched instruction, signed by DAVID.

LEVEL I: THE LABYRINTH| LEVEL II: THE ANCESTOR | LEVEL III: TAG! YOU’RE IT
LEVEL IV: THE ROOM WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS | LEVEL V: IT’S RAINING (AGAIN)

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LEVEL I: THE LABYRINTH
CONTENT WARNING: MINOTAUR, BODY HORROR

Step into a jail maze, flooded to knee level. Confusing corridors narrow, widen and contort, while wall torches dim.

Intermittent howling reveals you’re not alone. Hiding, you see child-like chalk drawings of forest animals on walls — and a great minotaur. Keep silent.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, IT RUNS IN THE FAMILY.

■ Collect some of the many discarded daggers or axes. Rope bundles float in water — use them to paralyse your captive or briefly force them under your control.

■ Don’t linger in one place: rotting, bodiless hands surface to restrain you.

■ Bad news, if you swallow water when the minotaur or dead hands try to drown you: your skin stretches and bursts, while your bones pop and extend. You mutate into a half human, half woodland creature, all bloodlust. ( Inspiration, anyone? ) Your companions should still recognise you; between hazy memories and constant pain, you might struggle to remember them and even attack.

■ Morphed characters can (painfully) return to normal within minutes of re-entering the elevator.

■ A smaller and distressed three-headed minotaur also roams the labyrinth. Two of its heads sob, while the third urges you to hide with it when brother approaches. It tries to throttle you with a noose to make brother happy, if you follow. David did say.

■ The minotaur and its sibling have poor sight. They cannot enter a corridor where you’ve drawn or laid down a line.

■ Pull the lever, and a straight corridor leads you to the elevator.

TOP | LEVEL II | LEVEL III | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V

LEVEL II: THE ANCESTOR
CONTENT WARNING: GIANT SKELETON, BLOOD DRINKING

Here, only barren stone and thin rivulets of fresh water pouring from wall fountains with sharp-tipped ornaments — your spilled blood quickly infects the basins. Knives, pins and bowls have been abandoned nearby.

High pressure and vertigo overwhelm you. Follow a rhythmic heaving to where the upper half of an enormous skeleton — the Ancestor — has broken through a wall. White, silk thread fetters it. Dried blood rims its cracked mouth. Before it, the stone floor has been tarnished, up to a 5m radius.

The Ancestor appears dormant, a crown of iron thorns on its head. It clutches the lever tightly in its right hand. Above it, an engraving urges, SPILL WINE FOR YOUR ANCESTOR.

■ David S P’s elevator scrawl says, WATER TO WINE.

■ Dally staring and you feel dizzy, nauseous, depressed and compelled to share your close-death encounters. Before you know it, you are stepping into the Ancestor’s radius…

■ …where it plunges for you, if you don’t bear a filled cup. The silk ropes keep the Ancestor from reaching beyond 5m.

■ Two carvings under his fists read HONOUR THY FATHER and DISHONOUR THY MOTHER.

■ Quickly distract the Ancestor from crumbling his captives, tearing their arms or attempting to eat them.

■ The Ancestor is instinct-driven, consumed by thirst. It cannot see or smell, and only remembers taste. Sounds divert it.

■ Improvise: there is no actual wine here. Infuse water, spill blood, or vocally pretend you are delivering wine, and the Ancestor might spare you.

■ If sated, the Ancestor releases the lever.

TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL III | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V

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LEVEL III: TAG! YOU’RE IT
CONTENT WARNING: SCARECROW, SKINNED CREATURES

Enjoy pitch dark, dread and bile spreading in your gut. Take a candle from near the elevator and roam through small, unlocked rooms that feature tattered beds, strips of tanning leather and blood or wax spilled on the floor.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, O CATCHES IT.

■ Ahead, you see candle-bearing mannequins that dance a hora to the same song played by Jim Kirk’s music box: “Up the mountain, in the grove, hand in hand to Ke-Waihu, fresh harvest’s a treasure trove, each fall we feast anew.”

■ The creatures are patched abominations of wax, skinned flesh and burlap. In the middle of the hora is a wiry scarecrow, eyes blazing with candle fire as it points a large cleaver. In certain lights, the scarecrow’s face briefly contorts into that of your mother. It wears priestly robes that Arc III survivors may recognise from the House of Ravens.

■ As the dance finishes, you notice the lever in the middle of the circle, where flame spells out TAKE THEM, NOT ME. The game begins.

■ The abominations run, gleefully manic and screaming TAAAA~AAAAAG. YOU’RE IT! The scarecrow unflinchingly cuts them down while pursuing you. Hide in the abandoned rooms, or risk snuffing your candle to avoid detection.

■ Some abominations slap you, hold you, or alert the scarecrow. Others offer shelter. A few peel off wax skins from their limbs — showing black fungi beneath. They murmur, IT NEVER GOES AWAY.

■ Parchment strips fall from the scarecrow’s sleeves, reading, HAPPY NAME DAY, MOTHER KNOWS BEST, THE SIN RAN DEEPER THAN SKIN, IF YOU CAN BEAR IT, IT’S A GAME.

■ Bless David: draw the scarecrow into a drawn or makeshift circle to trap it.

■ Intense, paralysing fear arrests you, if the scarecrow catches you. The wax abominations chant, TAKE THEM, NOT ME. One might even take pity and move your numbed mouth to utter the words. Say them — and the scarecrow lands deep cuts on your arms, then pursues your companion.

■ If you betray someone, the abominations take the appearance of your worst version: whether physically mutated, with a temper that amplifies your worst features, or both.

TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL II | LEVEL IV | LEVEL V

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LEVEL IV: THE ROOM WHERE NOTHING HAPPENS
CONTENT WARNING: MANIPULATION, MENTAL COERCION

You enter a quiet room. The lever sits on a table, beside rope and a dagger. As you approach, your surroundings transform: perhaps your dearest dead appear to warmly welcome you. Crowds of your doubters celebrate your success. Or you are in a calm oasis, where nothing hurts.

■ David S P’s wall scrawl says, THIS DREAM IS A NIGHTMARE.

■ Whatever your deepest wishes, the room’s vivid illusions provide. With time, your beautiful dreams deteriorate into horror. Sometimes, you hear whispers of, Make a wish.

■ The room increasingly drains your life force. Within half an hour, you have gaunt flesh, brittle bones and a hunched back. Or you might feel compelled to harm yourself, clawing your arms and face, or pulling your hair out.

■ The damage comes undone minutes after reaching the elevator.

■ The room focuses on one person: if someone joins you, they see fainter echoes of what the room shows you, but they are not enthralled. They must coax or drag you away.

■ If you are under the room’s influence, it forces you to make any later intruders stay.

TOP | LEVEL I | LEVEL II | LEVEL III | LEVEL V

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LEVEL V: IT’S RAINING (AGAIN)
CONTENT WARNING: PLAGUE, THE CHILD

At the tower’s open-sky top, fire crackles from a small stone pit, shielded by a familiar, immovable blood-spattered white umbrella. Nearby, discover an immense rusted telescope and other discarded astronomy tools.

You trip on rain-battered yellowed bones at every step. One skeletal hand holds a watch piece, engraved for Mr. David Sebastian Pumpkins.

■ David S P’s has only scrawled his signature.

■ You might reach the flame easily, or be overwhelmed by sickness, black fungal spores blooming on your fingers, while you cough blood and experience intense fever. The symptoms wane once you reach the fire.

■ Burn paper talismans and link finished threads to help Karsa’s spell.

■ The child with a fox mask from the Unwinding could appear. Sign up for one of three short threads, which must finalise by 3 November.

NOTES

■ Some of the bigger plot clues have been emphasised, to help navigate through the horror details.

■ You can hit up some NPCs during the trials.

■ Check out plotting posts for last-minute team-ups.

■ Back to the top.

QUESTIONS

Comments

QUESTIONS

[groundrules]

Last-stop shop!

[fushichou]

can.......can mr. spooky scarecrow get set on fire at all

oh or the henchmen fellas

NPC THREADS

[groundrules]

Freely available, for one and all — just put the name of the NPC you want in the comment header of a response to this thread, write a short starter, and please try to keep it to plot stuff! Thanks —

KING THIVAR | Formerly ruler of Serthica, now only recognised by Eidris. Gallant, charming, but utterly bored by the Reckoning Trials — prone to linger in his makeshift judicial throne and enjoy far too much wine. Dying for entertainment.

ARABELLA | High Councillor of Minaras, stiff, robotic, tense. Seems ill at ease throughout the court trials, clearly impacted by the last time she was involved in a public function and attacked by Remembrance.

CAIN D'UBIQ | Gentleman dragon lord of Eidris, nervous, on the verge of perpetual breakdown. Skittishly assessing the crowds, as if expecting something dreadful to happen. All of the martial dragons protecting Thivar answer to him.

CHRICHTER | Leader of the rebellion group Remembrance, believed insane. Will be in the milling crowds, listening to the trials, nodding as his paid cronies boo the verdicts.

You can read more about them here.

Interactions with Ellethia survivor Zenobius and the Child will be decided via Ye Olde RNG.

→ kim wexler

[sansdoute]

( A day's bread, hard won on her feet when she's seven filled moons, swollen with child. Not her first. Won't be her last, if Mr. Fairley's to have his way of it, and truth told, Elizabeth's found this one easy. Improved, when she's settled on a bench in the yawning waiting halls of the Sanctuary, kindly shielded from the hurricane of public opinion and the mighty shrieking breeze they never seem to stay, from that there northern window.

Eight years she's worked the archives here, and this is her third set of the trials yet. First when she heard, gossip be a merry saint, there's some woman asking her good friend Thaddeus, same of the just court's record keeping, for her name.

So, suppose Elizabeth were to cut the chase short and intercede, before the gentlewoman keeps prodding. Might as well. )

Good day to you. Said our man Thaddeus, you were asking after me. Asking after the name of me.

( ...possibly, not with intent of Elizabeth pursuing the conversation, thereafter, but she's agreeable at least, softening the blow of her abrupt presence with a sweep of her hand where the bench is cold and waiting and silent. ) Well, you've got it. And you've got me, and — I'm sitting, you might as well. How can I help?

BURN YOUR PAPERS

[groundrules]

Drop a link with a thread where your characters have finished burning a talisman piece by 8 November to help the cause.

Note: the thread in its entirety needn't have finished, just the burning part.

[kahl_175]

Clara and Kahl have burned their talismans here!

[vdovy]

ALL IS AS ALL WAS

— RECON

Yelena has been cooped up in the orphanage for too long with nothing but the clock tower mission to occupy her time. She is brimming with bottled energy when she finally gets to leave. She dedicates her first night out to reconnaissance, not just on the tower but the neutral zone and the citadels as well. Everything here is new to her and she is too well-trained to attempt a mission without first getting to know the terrain.

Throughout the course of the night: she makes her way through Minaras, kicking at piles of garbage that seem like they belong in bio-hazard disposal; stops by the neutral zone and perches like a gargoyle atop a nearby building to watch for activity at the clock tower; and at daybreak, she sneaks into Eidris to find out if the dragons live up to the hype.

TRIAL AND NO ERRORS

— JAILBREAK

Knocking out the first guard she comes upon is easy. Dragging his dead weight into the nearest room is more challenging. Anyone approaching could easily miss the sight of a prone pair of legs disappearing behind the door— but for the eagle-eyed observer who cares to investigate, they will walk in on Yelena tugging forcefully at the guard's clothes. In a small pile beside her are the few articles she has already managed to remove.

THE CLOCK TOWER

— ELEVATOR

Yelena expected security to be tighter given the supposed importance of this tower. That it was so easy to get inside doesn't bode well for what awaits. A feeling of deep unease begins to settle in as she steps into the elevator. So naturally, she cracks a joke, nudging her elevator companion in the shoulder to say: "Imagine if one of us had to fart right now."

— LEVEL ONE

Having made the brief mistake of stopping to orient herself, Yelena swiftly defends herself against the rotting hands with a swing of the axe she claimed just seconds before. The rotting appendage plops into the flood waters with a splash. She tries to wipe droplets of spattered blood from her face but succeeds only in smearing it across her cheek.

— LEVEL TWO

Fighting the sense of vertigo that has plagued her since arriving at this level, Yelena marches back until she is beyond the great skeleton's reach. The bundle of rope she kept from the previous level may prove handy yet, as she gets to work fashioning a lasso to try pulling the lever from within the skeleton's brittle grip.

— LEVEL THREE

Yelena's betrayal is unintentional, but it matters not. Her worst version appears: a ruthless killer with red eyes and an insatiable thirst for violence. The dark Yelena moves to pursue the nearest target as if killing them were not just her job, but also her profound pleasure.

— ELEVATOR SHAFT

"Screw this," Yelena spits as she returns to the elevator. This time, she waits for the bottom hatch to open again and jumps down into the elevator shaft. She would rather climb the rest of the way than stop at another one of these haunted floors.

By the time the bats come to demonstrate why this was not the genius idea Yelena hoped, it will be too late to back out.

— LEVEL FIVE

Drenched in sweat, blood, monster guts and now rain, Yelena is undeterred. Wet bones turn to dust under her boots as she heads for the fire pit. Uninfected, she will endeavor to help others fulfill their mission.

(OOC: The Recon prompt is intended as a catch-all for characters to run into Yelena around town, but I'm happy to do individual starts as well. For plotting and anything else, cosmology#1563 at Discord is the quickest way to reach me.)

Elevator

[traaaaaash]

[ Eda's eyes widen when she sees what Yelena's up to. ]

HEY --!

[ But too late, Yelena's already gone.

Eda should probably go after her. She hesitates for a second; after all, that is a random stranger. But then, they need to work together if they want to make it here. Eda takes her staff out of her hair and jumps out the hatch after Yelena, mounting the staff once she's out and gliding down to find Yelena. ]

Hey, you better not die on me!

Eda Clawthorne | The Owl House

[traaaaaash]

ALL IS AS ALL WAS

[traaaaaash]

[ A distraction, you say? Well, Eda is a lifelong expert at causing chaos and mayhem, so this is her time to shine. She has kept making potion bombs since she accidentally made some on their pirate adventure, and goes to collect some fireworks at the Mouse House. She remembers sticking it to Belos with a message in fireworks at the Day of Unity, and, well, she completely intends to repeat that one.

Maybe she's even talked to you and let you have some creative input!

Right now, she's hiding out in a corner of the courtroom, waiting for the perfect chance to strike. She's definitely smirking with great mischief. ]

Finn | Star Wars

[hatejakku]

closed to Vanessa;

[hatejakku]

[ His heart is pounding, and it feels like the sound echoes in this claustrophobic box. There is nothing safe about this entire tower, it's true, but he somehow feels in even more danger in the damn elevator. Let's just say it's not made well.

But it still provides some sort of respite. Finn's chest heaves while he tries to catch his breath from that last floor, his back pressed against the wall while the elevator creaks along ever higher. This time, he's not alone in this death trap, and Vanessa-... Well, she's looked better. ]

Are you all right?

john constantine | ota.

[strewth]

a. LEVEL I.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

John is not what anyone would call an athletic man. Neither is he particularly well versed in physical combat. He makes a loud, splashing ruckus, running through a rancid maze. You can hear him swearing, hear him wheezing, hear his smoker's lungs bellow.

He turns a corner, and there you are. Eyes meet in darkness. Will you fold him into your hiding place, run with him? Do you trust that he won't bring the monster closer?

b. LEVEL II.

John knows he has an audience, and this is where he shines. Staring into a nearby fountain, John murmurs, "reckon Christ had some magic to him, the bastard."

But John doesn't know that spell. He holds up a cup of what is clearly water.

(1.) And the fist comes speeding down. Save him? He doesn't seem to be running fast enough.

(2.) And John begins a conversation on the nature of wine. Is its taste not mellow and clear? Does its coolness not parch thirst? "C'mon, mate, this is wine of the skies. Dragons drink this, don't you know? Tears of the moon, it is."

With some consideration, the Ancestor takes a sip. John looks to you, beckoning with an outstretched hand.

c. LEVEL III.

John does not remember the face of his mother, a dark-haired woman with sad blue eyes. He passes by it without comment, and then the chase begins. He bolts, with the same lack of athleticism he always seems to come to. Running, screaming, "bugger all, fuck-"

He runs and he runs again and he finds a room to hide in. His deep breaths, gulping for air, reveal his hiding spot handily. Luckily for him, there's another-- you-- in that spot with him. He looks shocked at your existence.

(1.) John bolts, his hand latched to yours. You both run together, and he seems to be just at the point of screaming.

(2.) It's too much. He says the words-- "Take them! Fuck, not me!"

d. LEVEL IV.

In a room with nothing much of interest, there is a woman sitting at the table across from John. She seems casually comfortable, and her resemblance to John is unmistakable. This woman is family, in one way or another.

Tears prickle at John's eyes. His breathing goes uneven. He reaches for the knife, cuts a gash across his hand, and hot blood flows down his wrist. He begins to speak in another language, alien-- unless you know Enochian-- asking or praying or wishing for something.

He begins to draw shapes on the table in his own blood. He has forgotten entirely about the lever.

e. LEVEL V.

John is choking with death. In this black pit of a moment, he doesn't remember how he got here, only that he needs to go forward. His skin rots, his lips grow thin over yellowed teeth, and all signs of plague stand obvious and evident on his mangled body.

Still, he crawls toward that bloody fire.

f. WILDCARD.

[Seriously, I'm up for anything. Combine prompts, mess around with stuff I didn't mention, go for it. Here is my plotting comment, if you wanna go over anything.]

III.

[traaaaaash]

[ Eda is very displeased when John just grabs her hand. ]

Hey, what the--? Paws off, okay!

[ She shakes him off, but clearly the guy is terrified, so she keeps close to him. She takes a look around and quickly determines the best route. ]

This way!

[ She sprints ahead, expecting him to follow, but then... she hears him utter those words. The writing on the wall is well remembered, and Eda can piece two and two together. She is... less than amused. ]

Oh, just gonna sell me out, are you? Jerk.

izuminokami kanesada | touken ranbu

[fushichou]

Level II

[Right. Giant skeleton stuck in a wall. This is totally normal and fine. Especially all that old, darkened blood - of course, it's blood - dried around its teeth and jaws. But Kanesada stares a little too long and finds himself walking toward it, as if to get a better look at the whole thing.

Good thing he's fast on his feet, though, because as soon as that skeleton takes a swipe at him, he's rushing out of range, a hand immediately resting on the hilt of his sword.]

Woah, there, pal. That's not very nice.


Level III

[Okay, fighting? This Kanesada knows how to do. He's abandoned his candle at this point, having chucked it at one of the mannequins in the hopes of setting something on fire, and now hides in the darkness. Thankfully, he can see somewhat well in the dark, though this is far from preferable. It means he can easily pinpoint the mannequins and the scarecrow whenever they come close, thanks to their own candlelight.

One of the mannequins does and he cuts it down, his sword slicing through the patchwork of its "flesh" with very little resistance. He follows through by piercing it in the chest and wrestling it to the ground to drive the blade in deeper. Maybe it's dead, maybe it's not, but hopefully it will learn not to mess with him.

Unfortunately, these sorts of takedowns aren't silent and another creature comes up behind Kanesada while he's distracted.]


Level IV (CW: mild body horror, implied drowning)

[By this point, Kanesada is looking a little worse for wear. His clothes are dirty with some much, maybe blood, and his hair could use a good brushing and wash. He's not too tired yet, but he is annoyed. How much longer until he can get to the top of this damn elevator?

This floor, however, reveals a wide open beach at sunset, the lapping of the waves creating a relaxing sort of repetition. Tide in, tide out. Tide in, tide out.

Kanesada knows he shouldn't trust it, but it's...it's really nice. He lets his eyes fall closed and simply breathes

And then, behind him comes a voice, one he hasn't heard in so long now. "Kane-san!" it calls to him. Not Izumi, as anyone stumbling upon this scene might know him as. Kanesada's eyes open and he turns around so quickly, gaze falling upon the owner of that voice, and he laughs a little with relief.]

Kunihiro!

[His partner, his wakizashi, his match, arguably his best friend, definitely the sword who knows him best. Suddenly, everything feels right again.

But the longer he remains on that beach, the more things start to go...wrong. At some point Kunihiro has waded into the tide, his smile gone from his face. He draws his own blade, only to show Kanesada how it has rusted, how there are barnacles clinging to the hilt and sheath. His own flesh reflects this, as well. He keeps walking farther into the water. Kanesada chases after him, but he's always too far behind.

Kunihiro disappears beneath the waves entirely and Kanesada is soaked from head to toe. And, despite his desperate efforts, every time the waves crash upon the shore, they drag him back to the sands, as well.]

No! Kunihiro!

[Until, finally, he collapses on his hands and knees, tears joining his already-wet face, and screams.]


Level V

[Fuck this tower.

Fuck this elevator.

Fuck this world.

Kanesada reaches the top, but he looks ready to fall over where he stands. Or murder the first person he sees. Still, there's a job to be done and he's not a quitter.

All the bones and skulls trip him up, though, and he falls more than once on the way to the firepit. His fingers are worn raw, the knees of his hakama are torn, and after falling for the fourth, maybe fifth time, he coughs up some blood. Great. Wonderful. This is hell.

He doesn't pay attention to his own injuries, though, concerned only with getting to the fire. But his fingers, once bleeding, now turn black with sickness. If he has to crawl the rest of the way, he'll do it. Even if it takes him a while. He simply has to.]


Wildcard!

[hit me up for an alternative take or whatever your heart desires baybeeeee]

look what the waters gave us

[bravelyrunsaway]

( it all smells wrong. like rot and nothing present that his eyes see, as if in a shadow'd glimpse; nothing more real than izumi in his strange state, pleading with the younger human-looking boy and his barnacle encrusted sword walking a death-seeker's march into the sea. he growls, hackles up, and sits in the elevator, watching most of this play out, but finding in the end...

... something else is wrong, beyond the smell. he can't quantify it as something seen, but felt, yes. izumi is losing vitality, in a way that should be akin to sickness, yet is not. there's no particularly strong tie to him, other than practicality and a lovely enough face, and some weird tendencies about his sword: the last being particularly appreciable to licyn, whose own sword has been carefully kept in the mouse house, opting not to chance the seizing of it in the neutral zone. he doesn't need it to fight, or to run; not really.

he has teeth. that might be enough, if running fails first.

now it means he stalks into the room, skittish from the phantasms of a beach and waves and nothing that reads as true or real to his senses. izumi is real enough: he smells it, metallic in a way difficult to describe, but familiar in the sense of any person who lived by their sword. the bulk of licyn in this form, as his wolf, is more impressive in many ways than his human form. he looks larger, compared to wolves of lesser bulk. is more present, stands taller, than people expect. the oddity of the conversion of self between one and the next, and he stalks up to izumi, nudges against his side, whines, whimpers. sees if he can pull any response out of the man who has collapsed, including the pause and sigh of consideration, before canine tongue laps at izumi's face, tasting salt, recognising tears. )

Beitang Moran

[beitangmoran]

I. ALLIS AS ALL WAS.

[Well, if they needed any more confirmation that something is indeed not right int he city, this would seal the deal.

Everything looks fine. Everything is not, in fact, fine.

Moran takes to the street, followed by his recovered droid (she at least hasn't changed, somehow looking around and mentally cataloguing things as he does.]

I know that building wasn't there before all this, and I didn't have a private residence before things started going wrong... well, more wrong. And...

[A huge, disapproving look towards a pile of refuse that looks clearly infected with black fungi.]

How do they even claim this thing is contained and do this?


II. TRIALS AND NO ERRORS
((OOC: while the trials threads are mostly intended for the designated perpetrators, feel free to use them to interact with Moran before or after, he'll appreciate being complimented for his acting!)).

IIa. Trial one (Su Xunxian)
[He strides in front of the assembled court with all the hauteur and dignity an imperial prince is capable of mustering which is quite a lot.]

My Lord, My lady, I come to you to demand justice!

[His robes swoosh as he starts pacing, the very picture of indignation and agitation. Just looking at him, one glance is enough to tell he has been mortally offended.]

This man.... [He points towards Su Xunxian]. He... I can hardly bear to say it.

He put his hand on my droid! Positively almost molested her, without even seeking permission! The audacity!

[Said droid is standing demurely at his side, her 'assets' having covered by several layers of robes, but still...]

I demand justice!

IIb. Trial Two (Wei Wuxian)
[There he is again, looking, if possible even more distraught than the first time.]

My lord, my lady, I have been informed that there is a man walking around wearing my face, having people confusing him for me! My reputation is threatened unless you repair this injustice.

[He whirls around and then points out Wei Wuxian in the crowd.]

There he is! Look at him! Has he not stolen my likeness through evil means?

[The crowd is going to start murmuring because well, yes, in spite of a difference in stature and overall demeanor, they do look quite identical.]

I.

[traaaaaash]

[ Eda, walking the streets with him, shrugs with disdain. ]

Lazy attempt at a cover-up. Pretend everything's fine to quiet the masses.

Xie Lian

[scrapgege]

I.ELEVATOR ETIQUETTE [ for Licyn ]

[Somehow it's only the two of them on this one elevator. Xie Lian isn't sure he's met the other person in here face to face before but he seems companionable enough.

This elevator is really slow and creaky, though. And then it stops suddenly, between floors.]

Heh?

[For a moment, the contraption sways in place and then... suddenly drops down.]

.... I think someone cut the rope.


II. LEVEL II

[It'll take a lot more than a giant skeleton, even one that seems intent to smash whatever comes within its range, to spook Xie Lian. Even the nausea and dizziness are relatively not that hard to bear and once the situation is observed with a bit more detail...]

I don't think it can reach past this stage. If we stay out of range, we should be fine, but...

[But the lever is over there... so something needs to be done to get to it, and unfortunately, wine seems to be in short supply.

Xie Lian quickly looks for whatever he is carrying in his sleeves and extracts.... a wrapped meat bun.

... Well, why not.]

Esteemed Ancestor, I do not have wine, but to sate you, I can offer you this meat bun. The meat was marinated in some wine and spices to give it flavor, I'm sure you'll find it to your taste!

[Watch him stride ahead confidently while offering it.]


III. LEVEL IV [TW for blood, gore and torture, and some TGCF spoilers]

[It doesn't take long for the empty room to disappear, the scenery suddenly an outdoorsy one. This is on a mountain, and a small wooden hut with an inscription board (Puqi Shrine, for those who can read Chinese) is sitting there quietly among the trees.

Then, one hears footsteps, and in the distance, a silhouette approaches. As it gets closer, it's revealed to be a tall man wearing red robes and an eyepatch.

As soon as he gets into view, Xie Lian's whole face lightens up and he starts running towards him.]

San Lang!

[But as soon as he touches the red robes, San Lang 's body explodes into a million silver butterflies that zoom away, and all of a sudden, the whole place becomes dark, the scenery changing to the inside of a temple where Xie Lian is tied up on the altar. A sinister figure seems to be standing net to him and hands a sword to the first person in a crowd that is milling about there uncertainly.

That first person seems a bit hesitant, but then steps forward and.... stabs Xie Lian with the sword. Immediately, his body contorts in pain and a muffled scream escapes from his gagged mouth, but no one seems to react to it.

instead, the first man hands the sword to the next person who does... exactly the same. And then the next. And then the next. Xie Lian's robes are caked with blood, his face distorted by agony, but he is still alive, still not dying.

Suddenly, a small blue flame light sup in the temple. That gives people pause. And then, the blue flames grows bigger and bigger, and the whole place explodes, killing everyone around instantly, except for the sinister figure, who seems to have disappeared, and Xie Lian, who is now free from his bounds and struggling to his feet.

When he turns around, he is a wearing a half-laughing, half-crying mask. If you were in Taravast, you might find it familiar.]


IV. LEVEL V

[Xie Lian doesn't look too worse for wear when he reaches the top, rather astonishing if you've seen what happened on previous levels.

He does feel the sudden fever, and then notices his own fingers turning black. Somehow this is that, and the sudden coughing blood, that seems to do him in, and he falls to his knees, hands shaking slightly while holding onto the paper talisman for dear life.

So far he had managed to sort of gloss over the whole 'city decimated by an epidemic' thing, but it feels like that's not an option any more.]

down, down, down we go

[bravelyrunsaway]

( the elevator jerks to a stop, and licyn's stumble turns into a partial collapse, hitting the floor. even as he does, there's no moment for relief: the rope may or may not have been cut, but the floor beneath them opens up with such abruptness that he's already sliding, falling, gone and left with nothing to grab for but the air.

if it's good or ill that they had only made one level higher, that this fall was not greater in its first stumbling rendition, is nothing he knows to ask or wonder. his mind is filled with curses and certainty that he is not cat, to land well on his feet, but he twists around, manages to land... on his shoulder. the crush of it, the collapse of his collar bone, the pain of jostling and no wind in his lungs means he lies still, wheezing, assessing damage and concluding: not dead yet.

he can't shift immediately. it takes precious seconds where he wonders if the elevator itself won't fall to finish him off, and the panic of it, to push through, and his form outlines in silver, blurs, before where clothing held a man and his blood, clothing now awkwardly holds a panting wolf, healing rapidly from the transferred injuries. the scars across his back ache and twinge, the only ones to get no better. )

The Doctor | Doctor Who

[thedreamer]

closed to Vanessa & Red;

[thedreamer]

[ Never one to turn down a new adventure, the Doctor predictably makes his way to the tower, quickly catching the open lift. He shouldn't be surprised to find Vanessa and Red here, but he does worry, nearly telling both of them to go back, though he's finally begun to (sometimes) recognize the futility in such protests; the moment the lift begins to move, he has a sense of eerie foreboding, the presumption that whatever awaits them on the other side, it won't be a welcoming party with balloons and cake. Though, he doubts between the three of them, any of them expected this to be a peaceful and easy journey. To offset the groaning, wheezing, unsettling sounds around them, he opts for a joke to lighten the mood.

Love a good lift, me. They've really nailed the atmosphere, though I'd go with brighter colors, maybe a nice tapestry next time, liven up the place. Not to worry, though, at least we're going up. These sorts of machines, well, you never know - tricky and unpredictable, one minute you're in the right direction, suddenly you're - never mind. Not to worry! I'm sure we won't be here long.

When they stop on the first level, the Doctor moves to position himself in front of both of them, not even consciously on his part, just instinct. He may be a bit more worried now and he'd rather be ahead of both of them when the doors open. And when they do open and the sight greeting them is admittedly a bit more grim than he'd expected, he's quick to reassure- ]

Okay, who predicted a flooded labyrinth? They didn't have this option in the brochure and I was really hoping for a corn maze!

zhou fei

[snowcleave]

[ a selection of open and closed starts, feel free to tag the ‘closed’ top-level with a start of your own if we’ve discussed something, or if choosing chaos and wildcarding is what strikes your fancy. ]

closed

[snowcleave]

number five | the umbrella academy

[somebadnews]

ooc: Starters to be added below, or feel free to wild card. Plotting comment here. Will match action/prose, as you like!

Ⓛ Elevator

[somebadnews]

This is all turning into one huge distraction from everything else weighing on him, and Five can't decide if he's grateful to have it, or if it's going to be the one that finally breaks him. He's only here because he doesn't see another choice. Doing nothing would mean leaving the tower to the others, and he's convinced that wasn't going to end well. It's unfortunate that he cares more than he wants to, after the Unwinding left him with questions he needs answered.

He didn't have a lot of enthusiasm for following another plan spearheaded by Karsa, if only because he's racking up debt with someone he's much more comfortable hating. It's misplaced gratitude anyway, when the Merchant is the one who brought them here with a mission to uncover the spread of undeath. Even when it seems like they're doing him a favor, there's an undercurrent of manipulation that makes him twitch as they continue to follow his lead.

The elevator ride is appropriately creepy. It's barely functional yet feels oddly alive, and Five thinks he hears the flutter of wings as they slowly ascend. He makes eyes with the others who join him in the cramped space, but otherwise clenches his jaw and shifts impatiently as he prepares for whatever is waiting for them.

caitlyn kiramman | arcane

[clavesregni]

I. All Is As All Was

[Caitlyn is picking through the trash behind a Minaras medical facility, sniffing fungal things that she probably shouldn't be sniffing and taking copious photographs. Find her generally making a nuisance of herself while investigating just what these medical facilities are up to.

Alternatively, find her at the address assigned to her in Minaras. The bedroom window is always open, should a certain redhead who doesn't use the front door come by. The place is simultaneously fastidiously neat, everything in its place, and an absolute mess of papers torn from her notebook and polaroid photographs scattered everywhere.]


II. Level One

[Caitlyn's nervous and out of her depth, and that's clear to anyone looking at her. Her whole body is stiff as a board, except for the hand ready to fire her rifle, and it's only years of ingrained muscle memory keeping her trigger finger relaxed. Every side path she passes, she pauses, peering down the length of the corridor with her rifle raised, ready to fire.

At one branching path, she pauses too long, distracted by what might be movement. She doesn't notice the hands reaching up from the water until it's too late.

With a loud cry of surprise, she fires at one scrabbling at her leg. The hand is blown to pieces. The cry, the gunshot, and the wet, squelchy sound of the hand's demise all echo loudly through the maze. She desperately tries to scramble away from the other hands, even as one starts to wrap its fingers around her belt.]


III. Level Three

[At first, Caitlyn thinks she's seeing a reflection of her own face as the candlelight dances over the scarecrow. But as she peers closer, she realizes that it's not quite right. The face is older, the lips a little fuller, the eyes and brows a different shape, the hair the wrong color. Her mother.

She scowls, heart practically in her throat at the sight of her mum, ready to say something, or do something, though she doesn't know what, when suddenly the music stops.

And then the wax creatures are running at her, tugging at her arms and tearing the rifle case from her back, sending her gun flying. Without it, there's nothing much she can do, so she flees, grabbing the first real person she sees and pulling them into a room where she hopes they won't be followed.]

Quick! In here!


IV. Level Five

[Finally having reached the top, Caitlyn pauses, closes her eyes, takes a moment to breathe. She wants to rest. There are tears, something between exhaustion and sorrow, pricking the corners of her eyes, but they're quickly washed away by the rain. She opens her eyes again, finally noticing the skeletons strewn across the top of the tower.]

What happened here? [It's little more than a horrified whisper, possibly lost in the pounding rain.

She's come this far. There's nothing for it but to keep going. She squares her shoulders, clenches her jaw, and starts to walk, gingerly trying to step over and around the bones. But it's not long before the world starts to sway, and she pulls out a handkerchief just in time to catch a wrenching cough. There's a copper taste in her mouth, and she looks down to see blood on the handkerchief, and what looks like black mold growing along her fingers.

No turning back now. Not if this helps the others get home. She continues to stumble forward, towards the fire pit.]


V. Wildcard

[I'm up for anything! Feel free to hit me up at sprucemoose#7026 if you'd like to plot.]

closed to Vi

[clavesregni]

[A simple open room with the lever sitting conveniently at its center? Of course it's suspicious, but after everything else she's been through, Caitlyn is too relieved to question it. She strides confidently towards the lever, only to be brought to a sudden halt by a voice saying her name.

A voice she recognizes, but not one she expected hear here.

Her father looks haggard, hair unkempt and uncombed, beard untrimmed, clothes less than perfectly arranged. He rushes to her, flinging his arms around her, and she stumbles slightly, her boots sinking into the thick plush of the carpet. Because she's not in an open room with a lever anymore. She's in her sitting room. And over her father's shoulder, she can see her mother coming down the stairs, the expression on her tired face warring between shock and relief.

Caitlyn, her mother says, we feared the worst.]

vanessa ives

[matermali]

LEVEL III } lan wangji

[matermali]

She's nearly slipped twice on either wax or blood. The lack of coordination is foreign, but not surprising given how her harrowed walk carries her through the darkness like someone chased by something even bleaker than shadows.

The first mannequin she spots draws a flinch and gives her pause. Her candle flickers, but then Vanessa squints through the ominous glows of what she assumes to be a ritual. It leaves her stricken in the meager light of her own candle. No good comes of rituals. Just pain. The pain of momentarily seeing a woman who always walked over her own broken heart.

The first casualty. Or was it her second? A tremble to ponder on the math.

Xie Yun | Legend of Fei

[balancedwire]

Level I

[ This? It reminds him, honestly, of a certain jail where he once resided. The only difference is that this was a maze and filled with water. Water that he feels come up to his knees but does his best to ignore, just as he ignores the shadows along the walls.

He takes note of the child-like chalk drawings of forest animals and grabs the nearest dagger, a sword would be better, and a few ropes as he walks through the waters.

The howl has him moving even as he feels hands trying to drag him under. ]


Level II [CW: Possible blood]

[ The water from the fountains seems fresh and he notes the sharp-tipped ornaments. He also notes the knives, pins, and bowls that were abandoned. Were they stained with blood? He isn't sure and he tries not to pay attention to that. Not when he's trying to ignore the feeling of vertigo.

He makes the mistake of following the feeling and takes note of the skeleton, white as can be, save for the dried blood on its cracked mouth. The engraving is evident and notes the words. Spill wine. As well as the words water to wine. Something that he's sure none of them can do.

The dizziness hits him hard and the words 'I was poisoned on the battle field' escape his lips. ]


Level IV

[ Flames lick the ground near a young boy where a battle had waged, poisoned arrow stuck in his chest. It took a great deal of effort to rise up from the ground and jerk the arrow out, something that was probably not the wisest of things to do. Not when it renders him into unconcious bliss.

When he wakes it is to a cave and the mythical island of Penglai, waters as blue and as clear as can be. Taoist Tong Ming never tried to turn him into a monk due to his nature and personality, knowing he was more wild and free.

However, Penglai was a place that he could be at peace in, despite the poison that ran through his veins. Even if it meant he could no longer do martial arts.

Looking down he notes the shift in skin, the way his skin looked wrinkled and worn, battle worn even. Maybe, just maybe... he'd head out into the waters of Penglai, they would be nice, especially with how weak and fragile the body felt in the moment. ]


Wildcard

[ If there's something you see and want to do, toss it at me! I'm happy to play with any and all of it. ]

iv

[snowcleave]

[ She can see the back of her husband clearly, but the scene that fills the rest of the room is faded, like a memory being played through a filthy lens onto a muddy surface. As she gets closer she can see the flames of the battlefield, however dim, and the sight is enough for her to piece together the torments this room has waiting for Xie Yun - her own experience on the receiving end of its attentions and enchantment leaving her close to ruin, were it not for another's help.

It's aid like that she's come to lend now, reaching to rest a hand on his shoulder as their dimmed surroundings change to something more familiar - Penglai. It isn't as she remembers it - something about this scene, in particular, tells her it's from a time before she knew it, and there's a sense of loss about this place - or maybe it's just the feeling that's radiating from Xie Yun. It's hard to say, and the fact that it seems so distant to her only adds to her sense of alarm - more so than the effects of the room's aging magic she sees already leaving a mark on her husband's beautiful face. ]

Xie Yun listen to me. Look at me. We have to go.

Kahl-175 |⍓| Warframe

[kahl_175]

Trials & No Errors

[kahl_175]

"What?"

Kahl wasn't actually supposed to be at the trials. He got carried along with the group. He didn't get the full explanation of what they're doing until the fancy-looking people started talking. If he had more time, he could come up with a good lie. But he doesn't have time. He's been put in the line to speak. So he sighs, and improvises.

He takes his translator machine out of a pouch on his thigh, holding it out tot he closest person. "Hide for Kahl?" he asks. Whether or not they want to, they may have to--Kahl's waved forward to talk.

Without the machine, everything the fancy people say is just noises. "Kahl doesn't understand what you're saying. But Kahl is here for the trial." To his friend, he's still entirely comprehensible. But anyone not holding a translator will hear something very different:

"Kahl nout oonrrtranr gar sai." He speaks better in Grineer than when he's speaking the Queen's Language, a little faster and more fluid. "Kuut Kahl regre aht trhuad." Grineer is comfortable, but made for Grineer. It works like Grineer brains work, and that's different than most.

And outsiders usually have no idea what to do with Grineer. "This is my translator. They're here to help me," he points to his friend. "Klhus tuu spiakhung whrunr, regre rudeg mae."

He figures this will slow down proceedings for a while.

"Kahl sorry," he says quietly, as the court fills with confused muttering. "Not think of trial fast enough. Kahl stall. You got idea?"

number one ► star trek

[unas]

[ plotting comment! below will be plotted threads, lmk if you'd like to plot something out ♥ ]

☆ christopher pike

[unas]

( she'd long been separated from the people she'd been traversing the tower, losing sight of them between levels, grateful when she ran into another friendly face. una was even more glad when the illusions disappeared, when that unfriendly self of hers was gone, though felt even guiltier at remembering what had happened to five in the process.

she was glad now that the tower was at an end, glad to come out onto the roof, grasping her talisman in hand at sight of the flames. her task was nearly over.

though every step that una took felt more difficult, legs feeling heavier, something almost dragging her to the ground until finally she fell, noticing the black spores covering her fingers only after she brought her hand up. oh hell )

moiraine damodred ► wheel of time

[cairhien]

[ plotting comment! below will be plotted threads, lmk if you'd like to plot something out ♥ ]

☆ marcos diaz

[cairhien]

( she'd been glad to see him in the elevator, glad of a friendly face to enter this labyrinth with. already she's channelling, drawing a ball of light into the air to help guide their path, a small thing that floats as they move through each darkened area.

though whilst they have some light now it doesn't show them everything, a hand that hadn't seemed to exist grasping at moiraine's foot, making her reach to marcos to keep her balance as she tries to pull her foot free before it properly takes hold )

We should be careful where we step.

( now that her foot is free. but if there was that hand how many more will there be? )

Clara Oswald | Doctor Who

[makemeasong]

➳ 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲

[ Her talisman has been burned, the sickness easing. Wounds are cleaned up as well as they can be, dried blood crusted along a cut on Clara's arm. There's blood under her fingernails, slashes in her clothes. There aren't any life-threatening wounds, but she's still hollow looking from the plague.

She isn't leaving the light of the fire; she's got a cut on her thigh making her limp anyway, so she'll stay right where she is until the Doctor comes back. When he said he was going back in she'd wanted to protest but hadn't — as long as he has friends stuck somewhere in the tower, she knows he won't leave until he's as sure as he can be that they're safe.

Staring into the fire, Clara isn't moving and isn't saying anything. She doesn't seem to notice someone sitting next to her, the fire flickering in the reflection of her eyes. ]

[ ooc: lmk if you actually want to do something with Clara and we can! lifewasawillow#5524 or journal DM works great. ]

[kahl_175]

[Kahl's mouth tastes copper-red, and his eye waters and stings. The rain's bad, worse than around big factories. Without a mask, it's on his skin, biting at his lungs. No stopping now.

He stumbles toward the fire, crunching over bones. Burn magic thing. Help the others. Make the pain worth something.]

wei wuxian | the untamed | ota

[weifinder]

Pick your poison from the following and I'll write us a custom starter, or write your own inspired by these, or wildcarding for anything in this event!

• wei wuxian has a great plan for lying baldly to the ancestor! help or hinder.
• okay so now he's climbing the shaft, and it isn't sexy, and he has regrets!
• wei wuxian gets to use resentful energies to screw over any floor, 1-4. you choose! or you let me choose.
• arrival on the fifth floor. watch wei wuxian crawl.
• texts from last floor!

[traaaaaash]

[ I wanna see these two try to swindle the Ancestor together ngl ]

licyn mansbane | oc | ota

[bravelyrunsaway]

Choose your own adventure in comment or subject line, and I'll write us up a starter! Or you can write one based on any of the following, or wildcard in as whatever you like!

• level i wolf vs whatever creature your character turned into: go. he'll drag them off to the elevator later!
• level ii wolf acting drunk as a wingman or (naked) man offering advice about the ancestor.
• level iii he's tearing into everything, watch a wolf wreck it.
• level iv let him rescue you from a terrible thing, as a wolf, or... a naked man.
• level v he's here as a wolf to help get you to the fire pit to burn your talisman.

He's only naked because he's shifting and ruined his clothing after a fall + first shift, so. We apologise, family friendly is always the wolf option!

[thedreamer]

[ any interest in your delightful wolf and/or naked man rescuing this weirdo from something terrible? ]

xiao xingchen | mo dao zu shi

[binghua]

Level II

[This floor doesn't feel particularly great. Then again, nothing about this tower does. The only other clue Xingchen can gather from his surroundings is the sound of running water, if that can be called a clue for him.

He's blind and nothing else seems to be forthcoming to help him figure out what needs to be done. So he turns to an elevator companion and speaks quietly since this whole floor is already pretty quiet.]

Do you see where the lever is?


Level IV (SPOILERS for Xingchen's backstory, CW for mentions of self-mutilation and eye squicks, also blood tears)

[When the elevator opens and Xingchen tentatively steps out onto this new floor, he notices, once again, how quiet it is. But as he lingers, his senses pick up various details. A slight breeze rustling leaves in trees, but also on the ground at his feet. There's a slight chill in the air, more refreshing than cold, and the air smells a little earthy. He takes a small step, his boots disturbing some of those leaves with a similar rustle, as well as a satisfying crunch.

It is autumn, and he has found himself in a forest. If only he could see. Xingchen smiles to himself. He's sure the colors are beautiful.

But as wonderful as this place must be, he had just been on an awful elevator trying to ascend an equally awful tower. Which means the lever must be here somewhere. He takes a few more crunching steps, hands held out to feel his way toward anything. He finds tree trunks, fingers brushing over bark and moss, but he keeps going.

Until he hears someone or something else crunch through the fallen leaves ahead of him. Xingchen freezes, straining his ears to glean any information. Right as he's about to call out, mouth open and breath taken, a voice calls out to him.]

'Xingchen.'

[He doesn't know what to do. This isn't the first time that voice has called to him in this world and he knows he shouldn't, well, blindly trust it, but also it belongs to - ]

Zichen.

[Xingchen breathes out the name and the man comes closer. His voice had been soft, almost gentle, but his bearing is severe as he stands straight in front of Xingchen. And, oh, how Xingchen wishes to reach out and touch him, to pretend even for a moment that this is real. How he's missed his dearest friend for...for three? four years now?

Except Song Lan does not like to be touched. So Xingchen holds himself back.]

I...I have missed you, Zichen. I know I do not have that right anymore.

[Not when Song Lan pushed him away all those years ago and told him it would be better if they never met again. But Xingchen so wishes he could at least look upon him again, just to see his handsome face - ]

'You can. I will give your eyes back to you.'

[...Wait. No. No, this isn't what he wants at all.]

'I did not want them in the first place, but you still dug them out yourself, like a fool. You always were reckless.'

[Xingchen frantically shakes his head and, this time, he does reach out, but Song Lan takes a hurried step back. Instead, Xingchen's palms find another tree trunk.]

No, Zichen, please. Don't. I was wrong. I know I was wrong.

[But, even now, he doesn't say he's sorry.]

'I will be careful not to damage them. They have already been through a lot.'

Zichen, please, don't do this.

[Before he realizes it, tears stream down his face. Or, rather, blood tracks its way down his cheeks, staining his blindfold red where his eyes should be, eyes that Song Lan now threatens to return to him. Xingchen keeps shaking his head and crying, nearly tripping over his own feet as he tries to chase an ever-retreating figure of Song Lan. He grazes his hands and his shoulders on the trees, trips a couple of times on exposed roots, all the while begging his dearest friend not to do what he himself had done before.]


Level V

[Finally, finally, the elevator drags its way to the top of the tower and Xingchen all but tumbles out of it, immediately tripping over the scattered bones that cover the rooftop. While he may not have had the roughest trip, his blindfold still holds evidence of the previous floor. Bloodstains in a morbid imitation of eyes on his face. There is still some blood that seeps from underneath, as well, as he still occasionally weeps.

And so. All these bones trip him up. Again and again and again he falls to his hands and knees, and it hurts; bones are not known for being soft. But he gets up every time and tries again. They have to burn these talismans. If it's one of the only things he can do, then he'll do it. No matter how many times he falls.

It's slow-going for him and his palms start to bleed as he keeps catching himself on fractured bones or remaining teeth in skulls and jaws. Still, he won't let himself stop or complain. If he bleeds out on his way, then so be it. He won't give up.

He might need some help, though.]


Wildcard

[boop boop ya blind boi is available for any other nonsense, just hit me up!]

v

[weifinder]

Martial Uncle.

( he is there, warm bodied and warm hands, catching Xingchen as he stumbles, tries to fall. it has been distraction, and his own new arrival: late to the tower, and finding impossibly he doesn't often run across those also here, not like he should.

he offers himself as anchor while his mother's shidi finds footing, speaks lowly: )

When we do what we must, would you let me heal you after?

( work that magic he learned so that he could resurrect without needing to pay the outrageous souls who otherwise would be found, to meet the merchant's demands.

blood though on both of them, his mostly not his own. healing, and a bath, but that will come he knows not when. )

[minorgod]

[ The instinct is there to dodge; he's fast enough to, preternatural, but overlaying that is god-sense, don't run, only prey runs. And sure, he's turned heel plenty of times in the past when he can afford to, when it's only his own pride on the line, but he doesn't here.

Yato takes the strike with a grunt — Kahl is strong, and Yato's used to taking hits from Phantoms (and occasionally other gods). The blow sends him staggering several feet, though Kahl may notice through his affliction that the slip of a young man seems a good deal more sturdy than he looks like he should be.

Still, Yato forces a grin that's only slightly ruined by the bloody corner of his mouth where his skin has split, and makes no move to retaliate. ]

You've got to shake it off, friend. It's hard to come down after going all in like that... I know. But you did it, you won, we can use the lever now. That's what you wanted, right?

Wrathion | Warcraft

[blackscales]

[ Throwing down a few closed starts because I am late here anyway so nobody gonna see an open, but PM me or ping me on disc if you want something and we can make it happen! ]

Emilia → Level IV

[blackscales]

At this point, after the chaos of the unwinding, Wrathion supposes he should have known better than to suppose this would all go simply.

He's been dealing with low, simmering anger since before it. With that particular knot of emotion that comes from a hot, compressed blend of frustration, anxiety, impatience and defeat all churned up into a barely controlled urge to lash out. There's nobody to lash out at, nothing he can do -- and Wrathion hates to do nothing, yet this?

This is not... his area of expertise. Sickness. Puppets. Whatever... this is.

He hates it. He wants it to be over, and at this point if he has to tear down this stupid tower to do it he's ready to start.

The elevator chimes, and Wrathion steps out ready for whatever the next battle is going to be. There's... a table. A table with a rope, a dagger, and... a lever. Is this some kind of trick? Some sick joke, this whole place?

He's so tired of games. Of being played with. He's gone along with it, but his patience is close to evaporating and very soon he's going to start playing this game his way. He's sure people will be upset, but how long really must they all endure it?

The elevator behind him moves away, and he exhales sharply, thinking. Should he be ready for a battle? Will something jump out at him? It won't be simple, he knows that much, but equally he's aware the place has already begun to work at him. There's something about it -- beyond the obvious fact that most clocktowers don't have all this in them. Some magic has been spun here, although if it's specifically to slow them down or for some... other reason he cannot yet tell. He takes a steadying breath, summoning a flame into his hand as he takes a longer look around the room. The elevator chimes behind him again and he glances back briefly, taking note of Emilia as it slides open.

"No skeletons in this room so far," he notes idly, "but no sign yet of either the beacon or the roof and the telescope, I'm afraid."

The look he regards her with is one of slowly dimming patience, frustration barely controlled.

"Celebrations will have to wait. For now, I'm sure this place has more games for us."

He turns back, and takes a step forward -- and the surroundings shift. The echo of someplace high up -- a knotted design on the floor, columns holding a vaulted roof, and all around between them open air showing a frozen wasteland. Grey drapes give the place a formal, ceremonial feel. The ground is far, far, far below.

At the centre of the room, a figure stands. The icy winds whip her hair, but she seems largely unbothered.

"Ah," Wrathion says, in soft understanding. "This vision is for me."

"Wrathion," the woman says. Her voice is commanding, strong, but affectionate. "You've always been stubborn."