the scattering

[groundrules]

And now, hard siege during Alem’s first log event, covering 27 January to 12 February.

This Arc relies on information sharing and troubleshooting solutions, whether to keep the watch towers standing, find the Reaper, hold back Rathakku or evacuate civilians. Don’t be shy!

As a refresher, character have individual assignment & notes — but rest easily, they can largely go anywhere in Alem and play out any prompt below.

Click each header for scenarios!

THE SCATTERING

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Alem’s chilly welcome includes a gift of weapons, clothes and meagre food provisions. You are quickly given your posts and grudgingly tolerated by fortress natives, many of whom accuse you of collusion with Rathakku or the merchant guilds. Expect unkind tests or teasing from soldiers who want you to prove your worth.

■ SLEEPING ARRANGEMENTS: rare beds and hard pallets in the Keep barracks, sharing broad rooms infantrymen. Alternatively, sleep in the Wards, with refugees or the sick.

■ ARSENAL: you receive serviceable weapons or inherited clothes — ragged, over/undersized and perhaps livened by fleas.

■ FOOD: scant, dry, hard and prioritised for the weak, young, sickly or actively fighting. Scarce additional resources, such as berries and deer meat, can be procured from the nearby forests on the lower half of the mountain.

■ ACCESS: characters can go to anywhere, except the Room of Seals. Entering the Watch Towers will be discouraged during attacks, unless you were assigned these posts.

■ Between 7-10 February, Rathakku will Claw — meaning necromancers, the dead and those who are incredibly sensitive to life and death are vulnerable to his thrall. They could be conscripted into his armies, if they exit the fortress or linger long outside. Ghosts might woo them to enter the mountain forests, and they will itch with wanderlust and a sense of incompletion. Comment here with an idea of what you'd like you character to do/a> if they are lured to Rathakku’s side.

■ NPCs: each fortress level has a designated NPC you can reach out to. Deimar will additionally be visiting the Watch Tower, following Stephen Strange’s taunts.

THE WATCH TOWERS

The first and most war-torn line of defence. The watch towers keep Alem standing — fend off their attackers.

       EASTERN TOWER

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■ Assigned to the Eastern Tower: Jinx, Vi, Hermione and Chu Wanning. Medic: Leonard ‘Bones’ McCoy.

■ Harpies frequently charge here, using their blade-sharp claws and deep fangs. They are humanoid but carnivorous and expressly prey on tower watchers. The scent of blood lures them — so Bones should quickly bandage wounds.
■ Bad weather hides their attacks. Beware the mists of 29 January and the blizzards of 3-6 February.

■ Cut the harpies’ legs if they fly away with you — better to risk a hard fall into the mountain’s snowy than being dragged into their nests.

■ They are vulnerable to loud sounds and vibrations. Set off the great, rusted tower bells to sound the alarm and repel them.

       WESTERN TOWER

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■ Assigned to the Western Tower: Eleven, Xie Yun, Kahl and Eda. Medic: Sarah Bishop.

■ Flurries of arrows frequently rain down, plain, fire or poison-tipped. They are shot in two broad attacks (morning and evening) by orc archers.

■ Sarah receives a kit of local ointment antidotes, but must make haste — the sickness spreads quickly and paralyses limbs. (Effects disappear over 1-6 hours, once the antidote is applied).

■ A rare few arrows are tipped with hallucinogen substances that trigger paranoid visions.

■ Orcs may try to scale this tower, using climbing hooks. Push them down.

       SOUTHERN TOWER

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■ Assigned to the Southern Tower: Jon Snow, Stephen Strange, Red and Finn. Medic: Wen Qing.

■ Irenia, Frost’s Scourge, an ancient, extremely large but slow dragon stops first at the Southern Tower before proceeding to other watch posts. She will turn back, if she is stopped here.

■ The dragon breathes down frost that can paralyse you in place, or freeze limbs. Wen Qing must prioritise warming the affected.

■ A few anti-frost shields have been supplied, but their magic wanes after a few hours. Use them as a last resort.

■ Irenia’s hide is tough and leathery, but she can be deflected by continuous attack. She no longer seems to hear or see as sharply.

■ She largely flies by, breathes ice and tries to pick up watchers in her great maws, then crack their bones or throw them down on hard stone.

■ Repel her for three consecutive days and she will not return for a week.

       NORTHERN TOWER

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■ Assigned to the Northern Tower: Kamala Khan, Wanda Maximoff, Merrin and Jiang Cheng. Medic: Anduin.

■ Demons draw large catapults near the fortress walls and throw strong projectiles at this tower — stone, large steel balls or even human or demonic.

■ The worst missiles comprise stones alight with ‘living fire’ — an extraordinarily hot blaze that can quickly incinerate tissue. Anduin should immediately attend to burns.

■ The tower is exceptionally weathered and structurally unsound, marked by large, destabilising holes. Kerasstone asks you to fix the infrastructure or guard his repairmen.

■ The ongoing damage sometimes triggers quakes in the fragile tower — hold on and don’t fall crumbling to your deaths.

■ Use the one-man crossbows and range weapons available, or the fixed large tower crossbows to shoot back and destroy the catapults.

THE KEEP

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Life at court, when the knives come out: barracks, royal halls and Crown Prince Haiva’s medical quarters await.

KINGDOM COME

The court of Alem bustles with rival proposals: the supporters of Crown Prince Haiva want to surrender the citadel, while proponents of former Regent Thyvault seek to raise the remaining armed forces in a desperate last stand against Rathakku. King Deimar, mere months in his rule, has opted to evacuate convoys and resettle them, after sealing away any last chance of Rathakku accessing hell’s gates.

■ The supporters of Haiva, Thyvault and Deimar wage frequent wars of words that accuse Thyvault of Deimar of usurpring rule, and Haiva of being too weak to lead.

■ Thyvault’s men slyly wonder if Deimar killed the beautiful woman he was seen wooing mere months ago in the fortress grounds. Proof of her death or continued survival would benefit the three causes.

■ The woman was last seen chased by a fair-haired rider into the frosted forests that Rathakku has peopled with monstrous wolves and undead Alem huntsmen. Interrogate hunters & commoners or track her down.

■ Tempers boil over Jan. 29-Feb. 5, with arguments frequently devolving into fights and shallow stabbing. As ‘supporters’ of the three gentlemen, you should defend their cause — but do pull back blows before you kill each other.

■ Deimar punished brawlers with a few days of penitent confinement in the barracks, where you are expected to reflect on your sins and attitude, and certainly not join the cliques of heavily drinking men playing dares and cards. Hold your liquor, survive the exceptionally spicy Alem meals and take advantage of the general inebriation to ask your questions of the brass — without showing your horror when you hear them boast that Thyvault’s men drove the local ice mermaid population extinct.

IS THERE A DOCTOR IN THE HOUSE?

The Haiva’s medics ( Bones, Sarah Bishop, Anduin and Wen Qing) are repeatedly called in to inspect his fits of sudden and elusive sickness. He exhibits a varied multitude of bizarre symptoms when his healers visit him:

■ Bones finds Haiva is a haemophiliac, his skin brittle like paper.

■ For Sarah Bishop, Haiva is overwhelmingly feverish, battling an unseen infection.

■ Wen Qing sees patches on Haiva’s skin that resemble decaying, moulding or gangrene.

■ Anduin notices Haiva’s skin feels clammy, his breathing stalled, as if his body were entering rigor mortis. He is very much alive.

Haiva is always weak, but gratefully and mysteriously cured of his symptoms within hours of his consultation. You can start a thread with him!

Info sharing with the medics’ club is caring!

THE CROSSING

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The bustling, stifling and overheated Crossing reunites the main ground-level gates and corridors of Alem’s castle. Merchants traverse the halls, volunteering their wares at exorbitant prices, while former Regent Thyvault leads the departing troops.

HAGGLE GAGGLE

■ Colluding merchants offer their less-than-stellar goods at heinous rates. You get 100 coins to haggle long, hard and to the bone for food, cloth and maps, amid war inflation. Offer your hair, your virtue, the ugly side of your fist as needed. No one will mind if you liberate a few wares.

■ Two of the most prominent merchants — boastful Batthour of the grains and stern Eles, vendor of maps, silks and steel — openly despise each other. Their apprentices frequently start brawling — stay out of their way or stoke the clashes…

■ Batthour and Eles are both open to trade, but seem distinctly disdainful of Alem, expressing pleasure from profiteering in its downfall. Group up to raise coin or other goods to trade, then put in your best offer. The next few Alem convoys require 500kg of wheat and at least three maps of eastward provinces to resettle.

THE WAR IN WORDS

■ WHEN IT GRAINS, RED POURS: Under Thyvault’s leadership, Alem’s scouts and infantry gather in the Crossing for final instructions then advance into Rathakku’s territory. You can join them on a mission to the Ivory plains at the bottom of the mountain, where a few frozen storage houses still have summer grains. Steal back the supplies, bypassing snow-buried traps and Rathakku’s lingering feral creatures.

■ King Deimar has prepared new missives for Rathakku. Multiple envoys can group up to ensure delivery down the mountain and into the warlord’s encampment in the Tattered Highlands. Your white flag buys limited patience from Rathakku’s demonic armies. Only two characters can directly interact with the warlord — Sign up for one of two spots by 23:55 GMT on 30 January. Note: Rathakku should be approached lightly.

THE WARDS

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The ill-lit Wards house the wounded, young, crippled or vulnerable of Alem, alongside those preparing to evacuate the fortress in upcoming convoys. Where there is sickness and overcrowding, expect poor provisions, the astringent scent of antiseptic, and a sense of residual decay. The lucky few sleep on pallets — while most dwellers take the hard ground and share dry bread. Soft-spoken Crown Prince Haiva visits regularly.

THINK OF THE CHILDREN

■ Weak civilians are often targeted by soldiers, who are frustrated by sharing their resources with ‘leeches’ who do not defend the citadel. Intervene to protect the vulnerable and redistribute any food that is unfairly confiscated. Prince Haiva will lend his scarce authority to correct any reported wrongdoings.

■ Learn to supply first aid, console orphaned children or widow(er)s and ease the spirits of those petrified by the recent murders.

■ A convoy prepares to leave on 9 Feb, with another due on 15 Feb. Pack the scant effects of the weak and plead for the gold or charity of the Keep’s gentry. Whatever resources you gain will greatly help the survival odds of those who resettle.

■ Inevitably, death visits some of the wounded. Professional grievers and coarse embalmers perform cleansing and mourning rites for survivors. Help them, or participate in the local habit of sharing tales of your most tragic sorrows, to distract them from their own.

WATSON ON DUTY

■ The investigative summary, as civilians can share them: five unrelated deaths took place over the past 11 weeks. Some speak superstitiously of a Reaper, who punishes the people of Alem for abandoning their fortress and sacred duty to protect the gate to hell.

■ The victims were all men aged 22-35 of diverse appearances and backgrounds. Some had minor injuries. They were all found without marks of wounding or sickness, bearing a white string bound to their wrists. One of the men was a foreign merchant.

■ Senior sorceress Althea searched the site and cleansed bodies, finding no evidence of magical interference.

■ Haiva has reinforced guards, but Deimar seems indifferent. Thyvault believes this is only an inevitably level of mundane crime.

■ Some nights, you might wake to the haunting song of a plangent woman. You enter a state of dreamy, confused hypnosis, drawn to a narrow, steep staircase you had not glimpsed before. You fumble towards the lake caves of the Gut’s Bind. Even the intrusive voices of Alem tell you to snap out of it and awaken — but your best bet is a companion’s help.

■ The staircase cannot be found again, come morning. The call is fainter for women, and does not affect the same person more than one-two nights.

■ Guards, sorcerers and civilians can answer your questions — but prepare your bribes and wooing.

THE GUT’S BIND

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It’s nice, dark and quiet in here, barring the comforting thrum of the forges. Paladins and sorcerers are hard at their elusive work, reinforcing the Room of Seals. Access to the Forges, mines and glacier lake caves remains liberal.

LAKES, MINES, MAYHEM

■ THE MINES: Characters deployed to find new escape routes find a series of corridors leading into the previously bustling gold mines, where ore resources remain well supplied. The territory is overwhelmingly shaky, with mine shafts and structures prone to collapse. They appear dusty, brittle, husked and far older than their actual age. Go deep enough and you can find sheets haphazardly strewn about and the remains of partly devoured demons.

■ THE LAKES: Saunter into a series of four interconnected ice lake caves, where the brutal cold is viciously wounding and pervasive. The first three caves give you no trouble, beyond ridiculously sharp icicles waiting to drop down. As you enter the fourth cave, you find gleaming stretches of golden, gleaming… scales that float on the lake waters. Grab one to study — but beware the starved creature that guards them.

■ THE FORGES: some entirely abandoned, some functional, all well-equipped at this time. Settle down alone, or in the company of Kerasstone’s people — the old blood that preceded even Alem’s settlement and holy seal in the mountains.

■ Keep an ear out for sudden sounds or unexpected steps behind you, as you travel the tighter and tighter passageways to find or shovel new exit routes through the mountain: some of Rathakku’s creatures appear to have… wandered in. They camouflage as stone and lay perfectly still in wait of their prey, before descending. They’re vulnerable to strong light and a jolly smiting.

LOCK YOUR DOORS

■ Paladins and sorcerers enter the heavily warded and barricaded Room of Seals every few hours. They emerge exhausted, their resources drained. Some also bear heavy gashes.

■ Characters are barred from entering and incarcerated for a day in one of the Keep’s jails or brought before Galatea’s judgement, if they attempt to sneak in.

■ Groans and screams can be occasionally heard from within, followed by spikes in the sense of deathliness of the place. Some paladins are never seen exiting.

■ You have one chance to enter, at midnight on 1 February, when the Gut’s Bind erupts into calls for healers to attend an emergency. Collapsed paladins are urgently pulled out, while sorcerers attempt to ward the room before ultimately fleeing to help their brethren. You can infiltrate and stay inside for 20 minutes before the stoked anger of the room completely overwhelms you, and you begin to bodily attack everyone and everything around you. This is a dangerous route: check in for one of three findings scenarios.

QUESTIONS

Comments

[downswing]

( He turns, as if she has finally grown the knuckles to fill a gauntlet and slap it round across his cheek. As if the ache of her anger bruises him.

He has faced this before, found Wei Ying and his atrocities and known himself lacking in the spirit to alleviate evil. Since, Hanguang-Jun, seeker of chaos.

Since, a face pale and morose, begrudging exorcist of transgression — yet minimally efficient against simple, petty, human wrongs. Wei Ying, who protects ghosts from the wretchedness of men. Lan Wangji, who only sees danger to people from the vast undeath beyond.

Now, it suffocates him. )

They speak of murders in the Wards. A reaper. We hunt him.

[makemeasong]

[ It's a reaction, and maybe she'll feel bad about her implication later. But for now, she's walking on a thin line between politeness and terseness. It isn't in her to walk away, not yet. She'll know, she'll feel it in her bones.

If she could stand next to the Doctor and face an angry, hungry, power-seeking sun, she can do this. ]

Why bother if it's futile?

[downswing]

Because that is what Wei Ying does.

( Fights for scraps, to bitter end. Prophet, martyr, victor, loser. There is bloodshed afoot, and so, beneath the Heavens — chaos must dispel, justice must be done. These are their vows.

If they burden or cripple or weigh him, Lan Wangji shows nothing of their toll. Hastens, silks a flurry of rises and falls dancing beside him, white of their gossamer and of the crackling moans of distant, convalescing patients. The Keep sits two floors and a world awa from the Wards. And hurt yet reaches it. )

What better men do.

( And so, despite odds of failure — they follow suit. )

[makemeasong]

[ Lowering her hackles just a little, Clara still shoots a look at Wangji. ]

And women.

[ She does have to sleep sometime, though, at least a little. Water would probably be good, too. Food, she can save for someone else a bit longer. ]

We should both take the time to breathe. Even if all I do is put a smile on my face for a kid, I'm going back to it as soon as I'm up.

[downswing]

( He recognises the feverish itch of her riposte, the easy, carefree, futile impudence. The impulse to snag and snare and punish that which is within reach and that hands may grab and shape, that a sharp will may contort and tangle.

They are strangers in a claustrophobic world, a rabbits' lair, a cocoon of festering sickness and murder. They only have each other to bleed. He finds the same patience he once directed towards children, finds his mouth slack, the well of his indefatigable strength still brimming with water.

And he exhales. ) No man dissuades you.

( Not Lan Wangji, only resolute in delivering them up and onwards, higher and safe. Past the Keep, the supposes. )

You have sleeping qua — ( Of course not. Privilege. They have not earned or paid. ) You are a woman. Your bed wants watched?

( From petty cruelties or greedy hands or all the typical, monstrous acts of violence that lesser men rain down on girls. )

[makemeasong]

Don't forget it.

[ There's just an edge of a tease to her tone now. He isn't the one she's angry with. Everyone's allowed a moment, when things seem too bleak, too awful. Clara tries never to stay in that moment long, but she's learned not everyone can do that. As much as Wangji has saved her, she's never seen him at his threshold, and maybe this is it.

His offer is welcome, one that she knows not to turn down, at least. It only surprises her that he's offered at all. ]

You don't have someone you like more than me to watch over?

[downswing]

( Accepted, then. Tolerated, like a well-fattened feline basking in the privileges of her age and spoiled splendour. No sooner does Clara indicate she finds his company palatable — that she, at the very least, does not exorcise him — that he sidles beside her, faithful shadow and a study in pale contrasts against the matted, humidity-imbued skins of grime on stone walls.

The Keep opens bare before them, a parody of absence where the Wards are perpetually busied, bustling, crammed. Half the occupants must be honouring the barracks. The other crowds in impromptu jailhouses.

Because he suspects Clara never learned to follow, he drifts steps behind, so that she might lead. )

I am told my marriage is... particular. ( And so, that his choice of company is estranged from the rational, the sensible, the predictable, the known. ) And my son has climbed to the peak of youth where a father stifles.

( Truly, the most long-suffering, pained of sighs. )

[makemeasong]

[ Indeed, Clara doesn't do a lot of following, except with one particular person. And even then, the Doctor admitted she's the Boss, and she accepts.

She can't but turn a curious eye just over her shoulder to look at him. ]

Kids do that, but you'll never stop worrying. Parents never do.

[ Not that she is one, but she's worked with kids for a long, long time. ]

I've never heard anyone describe their marriage as 'particular.' What makes people say that?

[downswing]

( The hiding of rites. The death of one party. The mournful ambivalence of the other. The acquiring of widowhood and children before yet-pending consummation. The constant and unerring absence of proper tea. The lack of blessings, wholesale or specific. The flawless repetition of weddings and partings, one half unaware. The lack of dowry.

The violence, the curses, the blood letting, the side glances. The overall state of undiplomatic affairs among distant relations.

Unfailing, unblinking, the resolute picture of innocence: )

The bride's shamelessness.

( ...yes. That's certainly it. )

[makemeasong]

[ That clears absolutely nothing up, and Clara blinks at Wangji for a moment. She comes to a conclusion, teasing but also serious. ]

Did you know that you talk like an oracle?

[ Speaking in riddles, giving not enough information, or something she just has to figure out without clarification. He wouldn't be him if he was any other way, though, and she enjoys his company. ]

[downswing]

( This, then: his failing, staggering his step, stilling him in place. He turns his gaze, meanders it, snags it on Clara's face, the pallor of her cheek. Says, in the end, like drawing water and blood from a stone, like squeezing it: )

The sect discourages gregariousness.

( And so, strategic discourse, as they cross into the sleeping quarters. )

[makemeasong]

Alright, alright, it's a learned thing.

[ When they finally get to the barracks, she can't look for anyone who looks in need of a frayed blanket, or a flimsy pillow. She'd even be willing to dole out an exhausted hug.

At the same time, she's looking for some place to crash. ]

Do you ever feel like you wanna say more but then you feel like you can't

[ This is better than doom and gloom, than talks on whether or not they're working in futility. If she can spare a moment of her mind to not think about things, she will, if he'll indulge her.

But should there be a miracle and he wants to talk about other things, she'll be willing to listen. ]

[downswing]

( Like a pang in his chest, dagger deepened, buried, turning. Breath searing, white of his eyes rolling, roiling, strained. So much of his world is blade's edge, stasis. Balance danced at constant war with the corruption of external stimulation.

The trouble: he exists, a being self-contained, immune from rippling, from shivers, from touch, from catastrophe. Immutable, therefore indifferent. To break that equilibrium for greed of wanting to be understood is to shatter himself in tatters and glass pieces.

He seeks her gaze, as if she might be a wild animal, looking to claw his jugular, to ribbon his throats, to flay and unravel him. As if pleading her mercy might resolve the better part of his life's quandaries. And murmured: )

...do you?

[makemeasong]

[ There's nothing but curiosity in her gaze when she meets his, and she wonders what goes on in that mind of his. What was his life like? Was he happy? She'd never know if he was just by looking at Wangji.

She didn't expect the question to be turned back on her, and the surprise registers on her face. Still, Clara gives him an honest answer without looking away. ]

Yeah. And I regret it.

[ Except, of course, when she did finally say those things, she didn't feel any better for it. ]

That's never happened to you?

[downswing]

I feel... ( Irrelevant, inadequate, flinched. Shying, gaze drawn down. Impudent, when he steers them through the barracks without introduction, neither expecting nor stalling long enough to be led in. ) Like a bowl of water.

( His hands cup tenderly as if to illustrate it: no more than a fickle, frail, tender contortion of porcelain, barely dust motes warmed. )

Brimming. To drip droplets once is to disrupt the whole.

( And the same peace cannot be found without rippling. They cannot achieve equilibrium once more. It is... too little. Too much. He is too little and too much, at once vast, unending and diminutive in his skin. )

Best silent.

[makemeasong]

[ A typical oracle answer, and so Clara contemplates it with her exhausted mind. Her eyes meet his, trying to put her thoughts into words. ]

When the drops break the water, eventually it becomes part of a whole again.

[ The water parts, broken for a moment but then it ripples and comes back together, whole again. ]

And not all drops hurt.

[downswing]

( ...of course. He speaks of poison, she attempts to drink it. Like the countless nameless faces that have crossed his path, she thinks his wounds hers to cleanse, to heal, to make whole and hale and stitched.

It stings and repels him. He drags himself steps more, opening the door to her quarters, begging her leave, biding her entrance. )

Excess touch repulses. Words sting.

( It is not — so simple as attempt made, words failed. He is not... unkindly or imperious. The mind may command, but cannot fully shift this. Years of Cloud Recesses' finest rearing have inured a sophisticated, gentle allergy towards all that is baseless connection, shallow affinity. )

My people favour restraint.

[makemeasong]

[ Mostly, Clara wants to understand. She's never met anyone like him before, she doubts she ever will again. And she's starting to doubt she'll fully understand anything about this man. ]

That's impressive. You should win top marks, then.

[ She's ready to close her eyes with no need to open them for at least an hour, feeling grains of sand in the corners of her eyes. ]

Are you hurt anywhere? I have some things, very simple things to clean up minor wounds.