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

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

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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

[somebadnews]

Five makes it to the fifth level, and it seems fitting that it feels like death. A cold sheen of sweat is already coating his skin as he steps inside. He'd seen the spores on the levels below; it was a matter of time before the plague spread to him. He feels it rattling in his chest, and a few steps in he's overcome with a wretched cough that dislodges something deep in his lungs. Blood coats his hand when he pulls it away, along with black spores.

An umbrella by a fire catches his eye, but so does a wolf. His vision blurs as he rights himself from stumbling and he tries to recognize it. He came all this way with the vague notion that it would tell him what happened to his brother. Of course there's a wolf. It hurts to talk, and his voice comes out raspy when he calls out to it.

"Where is he?"

[bravelyrunsaway]

Five is now a familiar enough face, and Licyn hauls up to his feet at the sight of him, the coughing, the blood, the spores. One of those in terrible condition, and he stalks closer with his ears canted forward, his tail held low, his head held higher. He offers one pseudo-wag, as if to say, I'm a friend, little angry obsessive clerical man, but he doesn't know what he is being referenced, or why anyone not the Doctor thinks he can talk.

He does try, the mental communication that works if someone's receptive to telepathy, though he's yet to find anyone who isn't the Doctor who can.

No idea who he is, love, but keep walking. I'll help you get to the fire, throw your searing talisman in and let the flame take it. Understood? Two blinks for yes, keep stumbling for no.

[somebadnews]

It may have been reasonable to question why Five was bothering trying to talk to a wolf he can't understand. The wolf, the umbrella, the blood — all of it feels at least symbolic, if not outright mocking what he came here to do.

He's fucking tired. He was tired before he stepped off the elevator, but a minute in this room and suddenly even breathing feels like a tremendous effort. The wolf is at least paying attention to him, to witness as he proceeds to hack up a lung when he tries to speak again. At most he gets out an obscenity before he decides to save what little energy he has.

What's the plan? Burn the talisman and hope that breaks a spell? He stares at the wolf, like he expects him to answer that for him. His thoughts are muddled, but he knows he can't blink away like this and he can't afford to pass out. The only option is to move towards the only other living thing here. He assumes it's really here. With the sudden spike in his fever, he can't totally be sure.

He knows it's the room, like it's been every other floor, and so the sickness might only be in his head. Unfortunately that doesn't stop it from spinning, and he collapses before he makes it another foot.

[bravelyrunsaway]

That's a no, then.

Licyn shakes himself off, the shiver starting in his nose and traveling down his spine, fur fluffing out and resettling as he picks his way to the collapsed young man. The bones of the floor aren't pleasant underfoot, too many different angles, like dealing with poorly cobbled streets. Only made worse as the sickness on Five wafts off, a near physical thing, and Licyn pulls his lips back from his teeth to wrinkle his nose as the unpleasant wrongness of it.

It doesn't help here, in the tower, that magic is everywhere. His skin already set to crawling, the wrongness of what plagues Five only amplifies the horror.

He could shift, carry the fool over in his arms, but people are strange about nudity, and he has the strength to try another way. Nosing at Five, he licks his cheek, once, then shifts stance to carefully, firmly, work his lower jaw under Five's collar.

To bite down and brace his legs, hauling Five toward the brazier, step by hunching step.

[somebadnews]

Five might have passed out when he fell, because he seems to startle once he becomes aware that he's being dragged and it takes several seconds to reorient himself. His hands fizzle blue, but he's completely devoid of the energy he needs to jump, and the spores make balling his fists painful.

"Get off," he rasps and thrashes weakly at the wolf that seems impossibly large. His mind is too muddled to figure out what it wants, or where it's trying to drag him off to. Then the bones around them draw his eye. Something clicks, and he fights back with more fervor. "Stop it, Grace. I need... where is he?"

'He' again.

[bravelyrunsaway]

He huffs, chuffs around the mouthful of fabric, pulling onward without seeming to care about Five's struggles. Five doesn't weigh enough to be much of a concern, not when in this form, Licyn's mass is almost more formidable than in human form.

He's inexorable, up until he has Five at the fire in its contained stone metal pit, or whatever its construction is. Burnt paper, hints of burnt hair in the past, just distant enough for most noses to miss it. Licyn lets go, a hacking sound making it out of his throat as he paws at Five, then noses, sniffing for the talisman in case the fool's too sick to burn it properly, as he should. The bones are as plentiful as ever, underfoot and back and everything else like cobblestone, a few snapped and broken, blood splattered here and there.

Nothing screaming or howling or lurking, but nothing quite right, either.

[somebadnews]

The wolf doesn't let go, or so much as loosen its hold enough for Five to fight out of. Not in the pathetic state he's in. His protests are weak and only result in coughing up more blood as he's literally dragged through bones to the fire. A wound on his back rubs against the floor, leaving a trail behind them as they move.

Surprisingly the closer they get, the more his breath starts to even out, and he manages not to pass out again. A modicum of his strength returns by the time the wolf finally releases him by the fire. Seconds later, it's in his face, sniffing around his clothes like it expects a treat for treating him like a rag doll.

"Stop that," he pushes back, not the least bit as afraid as he tries to sit back up. It doesn't hurt to speak, even if he's slightly delusional if he's still talking to the wolf like it knows what he's saying. He squints at it once he's more upright and starts to make sense of where he is and what he's doing here.

"...You're not one of his, are you?"

[bravelyrunsaway]

Licyn takes a moment to pause deliberately, pulling his head back so he can meet Five's gaze directly. For one, as a wolf, he's roughly four feet at the shoulder; very few wolves are of his size or weight. For another, his amber gaze locks with Five's and he shakes his head, not in the manner of a canine, but in the exaggerated manner of a human's gesture. There's some shift to it, as his neck works differently, but it's recogniseable and eerie, considering.

He continues sniffing for a scent of that paper, then nudging at where he thinks he's scented it on Five.

Burn the paper. It helps, you poorly socialised young man, you can feel the proximity's helping. All this magic is horrible! Skin crawling, sear it all, if I didn't have to deal with it I'd be the happiest you'd ever seen me!

He snorts, stepping back and lifting a paw toward the fire. Then looking from Five, back to the flames, offering a single, small whine.

[somebadnews]

Reality has been touch and go for a while now, but it's unmistakable that the wolf clearly responds to one of his questions. Which only brings up more. If it isn't one of his brother's Graces, just where did it come from? If they read his mind, they'd know a wolf would be able to manipulate him to do what they want. The sickness subsiding as he's pushed towards the flame should be a sign that it's the right direction, and he shouldn't question how it came on so quickly, but nothing is ever so simple. It's a wonder they didn't just compel him to come forward if they're this desperate.

He's still foggy from the fever even after it breaks, and now that he's sure the wolf understands him, he knows why it's purposely ignoring his protests. When it noses the talisman in his pocket and points him to the fire, he doesn't have to guess what it's saying. The wolf didn't drag him across the room to help, it did it to get him to destroy the talisman. For some reason it matters that Five is the one who does it.

All along he had reservations about Karsa's plan, and he halfway expects something worse to happen to him if he complies. He pulls out the talisman and feels the anguish he carries swirl, reminding him of what can happen when doing the Merchant's favors. But there's a chance it'll be the thing that summons the boy with the umbrella, get some answers, and he knows he never had a choice.

He looks at the wolf, then pushes himself up to stand next to the flames. And drops it in.

[bravelyrunsaway]

He scuttles sideways, offering Five support at the side for the time where he stands, where the talisman flutters limply, inexorably into the flames: catching as if it were soaked in kerosine, a sudden flash, and all but ash settling into the fire's basin.

There are no visible effects elsewhere, the shuddering of magic that shivers and twists away one that Licyn feels only as itching movement beneath his skin. His fur stands on end, his lips startling to curl back, before he forces them down again, hiding his teeth. For Five, he knows by the scent and familiarity now, the effect is different, immediate and consuming. All the crashing weight of clarity flooding in with the departure of the vestitures of illness: sloughing off the spores, the cloying sick, and leaving the blood that trickled, but the health that slams back in, settling into Five's frame as if it'd never left in the first place.

Or so he imagines, his nose taking liberty with associations when he's been this unnerved, this unhappy, since stepping into the Tower. He noses Five's side once more, takes opportunity to try and lathe his hand once with his long, wet tongue.

Good work, Greater Than Four, now try not to throw yourself into it or something.

[somebadnews]

Five can feel the change the moment the talisman goes up in flames. He's left drained, and his back still aches from a stubborn stab wound, but once he's not dying, his mind clears and his eyes sharpen. Finally able to take in what he'd been barely aware of before.

Magic. He didn't need to have another reminder of just how little he's able to defend himself against it. Judging by the bones scattered around them, he's not the first to succumb to it here.

A tongue licking his hand draws his attention back to the wolf. The very real animal that refused to leave him until he'd brought him to the flames. Whatever the reason, it saved him, and for the life of him he can't understand why or how it knew what the talisman would do. As much as he'd like to be the sort to believe that his brother's inexplicable connection to wolves made him appear, it could just as easily be magic again, reading his mind. All these coincidences have to add up to something.

Trap or not, he doesn't feel threatened by it, and even finds its presence oddly comforting. It's mostly a subconscious movement when he brushes his hand against its fur. When he catches himself petting it, he pats its head in silent thanks before pulling away.

He moves slowly to where the discarded umbrella sits and clenches his jaw. When he looks back to the wolf, he wonders if he's waiting for the same thing. The child is here, and he's not leaving until he finds him.