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

[binghua]

[Xingchen shakes his head sadly. Just a few years ago he would have been more adamant about fixing things, but he knows now that the world is not as simple as he used to believe.]

For myself or for those I wronged?

[The answer will be very different, depending.]

[weifinder]

Both, divided.

( Responses for which creates which answer, separately delivered. )

[binghua]

[Ah. His shoulders slump before he offers up any answers, his head hung lower.]

For myself, I ask for very little, only that Xue Yang be held responsible for everything he has done. I...tried to carry it out myself, back in Taravast. I tried to kill him.

[He remembers how he wrapped his hands around Xue Yang's neck and squeezed until the other man coughed and sputtered.]

But I couldn't do it. So I cannot ask anyone else to fix my failures, either. And after what I have done, I do not deserve it.

[Xingchen heaves out a breath before continuing.]

For everyone I killed. No matter what I do, it will not bring them back. But I took their lives, so...it would only be fair that I offer up my own in turn.

[He brings his hands up to his own neck now, just touching it, nothing more, voice dropping in volume. It doesn't shake, though, as if he's already thought about this more than once.]

But I only have the one. It wouldn't be enough to satisfy them all.

[weifinder]

( He thinks, but does not say: an eye for an eye, and the world goes blind. There is direct calls for blood, for reparations, but this is not that; Xingchen is not the bloodthirsting fool that Xue Yang so loudly proclaims and knows himself to see.

Though he is surprised to hear Xingchen tried.

And unsurprised, unmoved, to hear he failed. )

No, Xiao Xingchen. There's no fair to offset the unfairness. There's the good you can devote yourself to, living, that will never happen once you seek your death. Their resentment didn't linger to curse after you. Why would you invent it?

[binghua]

[Because I don't deserve to live rests right there on the tip of his tongue, pressed so hard against the back of his teeth, like a child's tantrum, though much, much more serious in nature. Not far behind it, his other gut response, I don't know how to live with myself, sits thick in his throat. Xingchen presses his lips into a line to keep them all inside.

He has warred with himself for the past...however many months since Xue Yang revealed himself and Xingchen's own crimes. Looking back, he isn't sure he has gotten very far in letting himself heal, despite Wei Wuxian's kindness or the trust he has given to Zhou Zishu more than once. Both men have taken Xingchen in with understanding and compassion. They have shown him and told him that he is more than his wrongs.

It's just...so hard. He knows that dying is giving up, in a way, even if he does feel justified in thinking so, too.

Slowly, he lowers his hands from his neck, pressing them palms-down back on the ground beside him, so he can bow forward a little more.]

I...do not feel strong enough. To face them, or myself. I am...ashamed of what I have become.

[weifinder]

Good.

( Because if there is a man who knows what that is, it is Wei Wuxian. It is the deaths on his hands because his arrogance in thinking he controlled unilaterally what he did, and he did not. He was blind to what his push to seperate those he loved from his decisions did for his stability and safety, for those who depended on him. He was blind to the political manipulations in the shadows.

He didn't need to lose his eyes to suffer from these things. )

You start feeling that shame, and you acknowledge it. You examine it, and swallow it, and cultivate out of it the drive to keep facing yourself. To face those who died because you thought you understood the world, and you trusted, and you trusted wrongly. The world was not there to be kind. It was there, uncaring, and cruelty found its way in, and swallowed more of you than you could stand to see taken.

Then you accept those mistakes, and you cultivate the strength to give to the world the knowledge you've learned. Make things right, Xiao Xingchen. You aren't alone in it. Not here, and not in your world. Only fear, and grief, makes you believe otherwise.

[binghua]

[Wei Wuxian is kind, but in a hard way. Not cruel; he does not take pleasure in telling Xingchen all of this but rather is expectant. Like he knows Xingchen can do better, should do better. He's right, but Xingchen doesn't feel up to the task.

He shifts how he sits now, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, curling into a ball subconsciously, becoming small, feeling small. It's like getting a lecture all those years ago on the mountain. The world was not there to be kind. Baoshan Sanren would agree. It's almost frightening how similar Wei Wuxian sounds to her, considering they have never met. Had his mother been the same? The stories he's heard never detailed her personality too much, only her tragic fate. Had she somehow passed down Baoshan Sanren's lessons to her son through a mother-son bond? That's probably not possible. Xingchen doesn't know. He doesn't know much, only that Wei Wuxian's words weigh heavily on his hunched shoulders.]

...I just wanted to save people.

[There's a tightness forming in his chest, so he buries his face in his knees, trying to wait out the discomfort.]

[weifinder]

( He wouldn't know, only has the faded recollection of their laughter, walking down a road. Yet he is, in so many ways, his mother's son. His father's son in devotion, as well, but his mother's son, to the eyes of anyone who's met him and knew her.

He has not. Xingchen has not. Neither one of them can know what elders might, and that is the way of the world, and its orphans, time and again.

Wei Wuxian crouches down, then kneels, his hands settled and pressing on his martial uncle's shoulders. He remembers more at times just how young Xingchen is when he can pause, reflect on how he too did what he could, failed, and gave in. But it's why, in this time before Xingchen has taken his own life in the rushing grief of understanding, that he can speak with the experience to say, not like this. That his hands can be warm and heavy and grounding, his presence tangible. )

So did I. And we did, and sometimes we didn't. That we had to pick ourselves up after and keep moving forward, that we have a chance to save people now, by our actions and choices, that's a justice we can bring. Living on, saving others, is atonement.

The dead can't act. The dead can only linger, screaming, and it changes next to nothing at all.

[binghua]

[The next few moments seem to pass on so slowly. He just sits there, half-wishing he could disappear and be done with all this, feeling as if he were shrinking with every beat of his heart. Down, down, down to nothingness. Just a shard of bone, like everything surrounding them here.

Then comes the touch.

It's simple. Not overly comforting like an embrace, but neither is it reprimanding. More like a reminder that someone is there, someone is listening. Xingchen raises his head slightly, taking in what Wei Wuxian tells him. It's...odd to hear someone he had never met before speak of him so easily and know so much about him. Yes, there is that discrepancy that Xingchen hasn't been able to figure out, not that he's tried particularly hard, but it's still a little unnerving.

It also makes this a little simpler. None of this is easy for Xingchen to talk about it, buried under the weight of his shame and his , so for Wei Wuxian to present it like this and relate to it on his own personal level...

There are, of course, other people who know Wei Wuxian far better than Xingchen ever could. People who understand what Wei Wuxian went through beyond just exaggerated and biased rumors. But he does think he can relate enough. He does feel a renewed sort of closeness to this man.

Slowly, he raises a hand and reaches up to gently grasp one of Wei Wuxian's own, tilting his head to lean against it. He does not say thank you. He does not say please, don't leave me.]

...I...think I understand.

[He swallows.]

Does the...does the guilt ever become more bearable?