groundrules: (Default)
let's set d o w n some ([personal profile] groundrules) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2023-03-08 06:47 pm

stage iii


THE ASHES







Rathakku’s forces deepen their siege, with sharp-clawed harpies, fire-bearing catapults and archers raining hell upon Alem. The last two watch towers collapse, along with half the roof of the Keep. Several structural pillars dissolve and most windows shatter.

The Lord Who Waits has tired of patience.

HIGH CASTLE



■ Attack is vicious and perpetual: Rathakku’s creatures descend from above, harpies make lairs in dark corners, and the fallen rise as undead enemies. Rathakku now necromances even the recently deceased, who retain a sense of personhood. Characters with mind control and necromantic abilities can take over these units. The recently resurrected have yet to decay substantially and hide they perished in order to infiltrate.

■ The dragon Irenia dips in to breathe frost onto Rathakku’s forces, but never lingers long. She disappears on March 20 but will return post-Arc.

■ Aware of his native Ellethia’s implicit role in raising Rathakku, Zenobius offers to teach you how to use the rare metals and saltpetre of Alem to create generous explosives — a set that triggers a very high blast, and a smaller shipment that can annihilate any magic — including death and summoning sorcery — in a 20-metre radius for two hours. Zenobius is a hard, curmudgeony taskmaster: expect to be worked and criticised to the bone.

■ Expect frequent quakes in the fortress, as catapults strike and the roof and pillars wobble. A hard winter is no longer contained by shattered doors and windows. Fire kindle and other supplies run scarce. Huddle together.

■ Paladins fall into zealotry, calling to sacrifice young princess Cle-Florens to ensure their success in battle. Deimar does not dissuade them, but lowers the number of guards protecting Cle-Florens’ quarters.

■ The voices that haunted Alem now multiply, increasingly likely to drag you into a dream-like state to descend into the glacier lakes underground. Spy thereabout at night, and you spot demonic fire sirens of golden scales, who gather in the fourth glacier lake’s cave to urgently complete their task before Alem falls. Their leader produces a purse of dark glass shards. A siren painfully transforms her tail into human legs by consuming such glass — she intends to infiltrate the fortress as a refugee. Sign up for a RNG thread to interrogate this mermaid.

■ With a few more shard crumbs, the sirens summon a ‘Jatharin’ — a fast dispersing silhouette that floats ethereally. They give it a white-silver string punish Prince Haiva for wronging a sister.

■ The Jatharin survives only two hours in the human realm. It lacks human consciousness and memory, remembering little of its target’s description and pursuing what ‘young men (with pale hair)’ it finds in the Wards. It is invisible to all who did not witness its birth — so keep your companions out of its way. It approaches a target and chains itself to them with a shadowy ‘umbilical chord,’ before sucking dry their life force. It can also deplete energy through... mouth-on-mouth action. Clean executions: Victims make no sound and barely shudder throughout their entrapment. Some say, these are painless deaths.

■ Sirens summon a Jatharin for three nights.

HARPIES
Fast, perpetually furious, prone to consuming human flesh. Deterred by loud noise and vibrations. Imbue their claws with poisons that prevent blood coagulation, extending bleed-outs.
CATAPULTS
Deliver projectiles of stone, fire and minor explosives. Rathakku’s most ferocious instrument, taking down Alem’s foundations. Manned by four undead apiece. Sturdy but slow, best targeted aerially.
FIRE SIRENS
Native to Hell. Deeply bound to ‘sisters’ and ‘family.’ Possess golden scales and shards of the previously encountered dark water mirrors. Their song is tinny but compelling. Their speaking voices are crackling and gravelly. Survive the glacier lakes’ cold by exuding flame. Skin burns to touch.
JATHARIN
Smokey, dispersing silhouette. Invisible to those who did not witness its birth. Kills by consuming life energy. Descended from the Motherless of Hell. Cannot be outright stopped, only avoided, enslaved or consumed. Can be distracted if you take an aspect similar to Haiva. Leaves a golden string on unintended victims.


THE DEPARTING



■ King Deimar orders caravans to urgently evacuate, carrying refugees and provisions through mountain routes into a new settlement. Able men, guards, healers and merchants make preparations around the clock and will gladly accept, command or guilt your assistance. Help them.

■ Courtesy of Jimmy and Nacho, merchants Batthour and Eles provide some last-minute wagons and resources. An Alison-coached Deimar strikes a tenuous agreement for supplies.

■ Having received ‘healing’ flowers, Prince Haiva seems entirely recovered — far more confident, he menaces guards to assist the caravans. Deimar watches uneasily. Haiva asks the party to lead the refugees through the icy mountain passageways, where Rathakku’s immense bat demons loom.

■ The caravans journey to a well-warded settlement near the base of the mountain — former paladin monastery Hassir. Those who wish to avoid conflict can remain here. Prepare to kill any wandering pursuers, before they may alert Rathakku of the settlement's location.

MOUNTAIN BATS
Monstrous, blood-thirsting. To the size of 1.5-3 metres. Bulky, quicker to use their brawns than their speed. Stalk together, but compete for food and want to drag their prey to some great distance before consuming it, for privacy. Use that time to escape.
HUNTSMEN
Undead forces, typically old resurrections of Rathakku. Once human natives of Alem. Excellent knowledge of hiding spots and the mountain. Hostile, take perverse pleasure in the game. Will prolong a chase for sport and give their hungering hounds the chance to catch you. Unusual kinship with local animals, who sometimes obey them. Some scent blood.


COME HELL, THEN DARK WATER



Hell is ruthless, but pragmatic — and must be sealed, before Rathakku controls Alem and weaponises it.

The growing cracks in Alem’s underground Room of Seals widen to reveal full-fledged stairs. More and more demons emerge as the rifts broaden. You have mere days to close Hell, ICly starting on 18 March.

■ Back/forward date your posts and logs as needed. Network access is spottier in Hell. Deimar’s paladins accompany the group.

■ To prevent the outpour of Hell, you must reach Level III and record disrupting at least three Motherless.

■ Each level of Hell shows shallow stains or streams of the familiar ‘dark water.’

LEVEL I

■ The Room of Seal leads into an underground stone passageway. Demons and skeletons are chained to stones or pillars, begging water. The dead are fickle: some offer directions, others answers to your questions. Most lie for their own gain.

■ The stairwell to Level II is behind locked gates, on a stone dais framed by a wall of flames. To reach it, cross a threadbare walkway of bones in a large hall room that has largely submerged into lava.

■ If the bridge ruptures, jump onto the nearby talking floating skeleton heads. Skeletal hands reach out to destabilise or drag you into the fire waters, as do demonic lava mermaids.

■ As you near the dais, the wall of flames might depict either the time when Thyvault’s people slaughtered the lava sirens, or your worst memory of betraying or failing someone. That same person is found shackled with long chains on the dais. If you never wronged anyone, this is someone to whom you are dearly indebted. At times plaintive, at others incensed, they appeal to your guilt or goodwill, bartering the gate key for their release. Their chains will only open if someone agrees to take their place in imprisonment.

■ You can steal their key, kill them — at which point, they return to their true form as a reptilian shapeshifter, or offer to take their place. Do so, and your character is stuck in Hell, suffering the intense heat and occasional clawing of mermaids, until Hell closes.

■ Up to you if anyone else can see your character’s memory in the flame wall. Please trigger warn adequately if you are describing sensitive memories.


LEVEL II

You descend deeper, into an underground urbanscape infested with flesh-like structures. Some stretches of land and stone are covered in membranous, dense, thick surfaces, letting you feel the faint, distant heartbeat of Hell. Other landmarks — lairs, adornments — are made of the remains of fallen demons.
■ Step lightly and rapidly. Flesh-eating demons roam these lands, as do hungering hell hounds and golems that chase you for parts to patch their limbs.

■ The next stairwell is guarded by a deathly groom or bride, their tentacles barring your path.

■ To proceed, you must gain the ring they are safe-keeping for a future ‘intended.’ You’ll need to persuade a local demon, assemble a passing corpse bride, sell a companion or offer yourself to betroth them — and negotiate a dowry.

■ The groom is crafty, cunning, eager to manipulate you into offering your soul as a dowry; the bride is cruel but irresistible, stirring you and your companion to violently compete for her hand.


LEVEL III

Behold true hell, an endless wasteland, its horizon fathomless and grey. Your mouth tastes of perpetual ash, bone dust scattered at your feet. You walk aimlessly for hours in fields of gravel, haunted by stone snakes and shapeless bone creations.

Demonic creatures rally as armies, fighting each other for crumbling territory or for overground dominion, as they prepare to invade Alem. Some drag rows of sullen, depressed or bellicose dead men behind them, whose souls you can liberate furtively when the demons make camp, or are assaulted by Deimar’s paladins. These captives did not all originate from Alem.

■ Some of the lesser demons may part with information, if you give them memories, important trinkets or a taste of your soul.

■ Most paladins are on this level and will shield you. You hear from them or from passing demons that Hell is now able to seep into Alem because of the Motherless — dark and flickering silhouettes, two-three times the size of a man, who float high above ground. They send down thick ropes like umbilical cords that consume the energy of whatever they attach to. They redeliver this energy as tectonic blows against Alem above.

■ Beyond a hatred of the Room of Seals, the Motherless lack conscience, speech or allegiance. They are drawn to the warmth of living things, or the purity of their spirit. Their ropes are broken easily — but the presence of a Motherless can quickly drain you.

■ The Motherless are briefly visible when they fling their ropes down, but otherwise roam invisibly and can only be recognised by the trails of barren land and aridity in their wake. You know a Motherless has stopped above you when you are suddenly paralysed by chilling fear — run, at all costs.

■ The Motherless swarm when endangered. They cannot be killed.

Deimar’s paladins share that, hundreds of years ago, their brethren committed ritual suicide, so their spirits could perpetually hunt the Motherless in Hell. You find ghostly paladins walking listlessly in lakes of dark water, seeming to remember nothing of their mission or their former selves. Try to remind them of their duties without entering the water and stranding yourself.


NOTES

■ Hell demons can recognise if your character is canonically connected to hell. Up to you if that’s a (dis)advantage!

■ Everyone should eventually make their way to the Hassir monastery.

Sign up for a RNG thread with an unexpected travel companion on the trek to Hassir.


NPC THREADS

QUESTIONS

beitangmoran: (Default)

Cle-Florens

[personal profile] beitangmoran 2023-03-09 06:01 pm (UTC)(link)
"Your Highness,

As honored as I am that you would entertain my suit, I once again must stress that I do not feel it is appropriate, given the circumstances and the fact that we have not even formally been introduced at all.

It would rather quiet my heart if we could at least meet, for I am not one who will entertain wedding anyone I know not at all, not matter their riches and virtues, of which I know you have many.

I pray Your Highness will allow me this moment of selfishness and allow me to pay you a visit, at whatever time would be convenient.

Respectfully,

Wei Wuxian"
beitangmoran: (surprised3)

Beitang Moran

[personal profile] beitangmoran 2023-03-09 06:12 pm (UTC)(link)
I. HIGH CASTLE

[Like others, Moran has noted the quite significant thinning of Cle-Florens's guard.

Unlike others, he has decided to be completely and unrepentantly open about his intent to protect the little princess. Disguises are al well and good, but there comes a time where it just isn't enough.

Those who have met Moran after Sa Hareth might be a little put out by his appearance. And the first Paladin whose hand even strays too close to the door handle swiftly gets a very sharp blade pressed against their throat.]


And just what do you think you're doing, sir?

II. THE DEPARTING

If there is someone who can organize an evacuation convoy, it's definitely the army general with experience in ruling an empire. Between Haiva's newfound authority and Moran acting, well, like the Imperial Prince he actually is, which means he gives orders and expects them to be obeyed, which in turn means many people obey them before thinking about this, the forming of caravans is actually starting to look pretty efficient.]

We need a few more armed men to leave with this convoy. If not soldiers, anyone capable of holding a pike and thrusting the pointy end in anything menacing will do.
downswing: (wrist)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-03-09 06:21 pm (UTC)(link)


( You do not understand. Smear of wetted dirt on his cheekbone, greyed and grazing. The pulse of his jugular drums and storms. He does not look up towards Kanesada, does not glance away. There is a feeling, a gut-wrenching, blood-coiling sensation, that if he removes himself from his observation, the victim will be twice desecrated.

That its death matters little to its cruel, vicious feeder — but will amount to nothing without Lan Wangji to witness it. Seconds trickle like jade beads slipping on a bride's string. Distantly, a body falls, with rippling, lugubrious vibrations.

Lan Wangji's very essence, his resonating core, cannot grasp the implications. He sees what is laid out emptily before them. The Motherless does not even deign to retreat and leave the cadaver to its misery — only lingers, suckling like a toothing babe off a dried teat, hoping to milk the flesh of its bitter last.

Arrogant. No, satisfied. )


These... [ They are not people, hoarse and curiously skinned. They are little but animals, ill shaped perversions of malice. 'Demons,' their death-gained stillness like a falling mantle. ) These creatures. Their spirits are... forfeited.

( Wasted, eradicated, long gone. Ashes, scattered. Shadows. Trace of themselves, reduced to nothingness, to debris. )

scrapgege: (Default)

[personal profile] scrapgege 2023-03-09 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[Hell was... well, it was hell, but honestly this battlefield is not much better.

Xie Lian has seen battlefields before some as bad as this one. he's been the cause of battlefields such as this one before. Once, he was almost in the same place as Rathakku, bent on destroying the country that had abandoned him.

But, this is the past. Right now, the most pressing matter is the cultivator who is expanding waaaaaaay too much of what little power he has to control so many undead. And Xie Lian knows he can't really give power to Wei Wuxian - they tried before, it didn't end well - but he can, at the very least hack and slash at a few undead bodies.

And it turns out, sharing power ends up being the least of his worries because as soon as he reaches Wei Wuxian's vicinity, he can see the man's legs buckle and he's only just in time to prevent him from hitting the ground rather hard. It takes a little bit of fumbling to catch the flute before it rolls away.

... Well then. It doesn't look like more can be done here, for now, so he might as well get the man to safety and he hoists him up into his arms. There's a lull in this part of the battlefield, so that's just as well, it allows him to slip away towards the path the caravan have taken.

And he'll only have to stop once or twice to skewer a slightly too persistent zombie.]
jatharin: (cle-florens)

[personal profile] jatharin 2023-03-09 06:40 pm (UTC)(link)


Master Wei Wuxian,

Long may the skies hold you in high regard and bright esteem, for I am certain your kindness pleases them. I do not understand much of your missive, for which I pray you must forgive me, for I am but of the weaker feminine persuasion and therefore a small and humble mind.

But my master of letters and my master of the feminine arts, in which I work to be accomplished, and my brother's master of guards have read this. And it pleases them to have put in less refined words, so that I may grasp your truth and answer it with mine. And I thank them.

If I have misled you, I am told with grace and honour to kindly discourage the notion. For am I a princess of the blood, and soon to reconcile with the skies as their unworthy chosen, and so I do not pick the matter of my husband. That is for Alem to decide, as those of Alem are my people, and those of Alem are my concern. Though I know this will injure you, I pray you strength and much kindness, for we cannot be wedded, and so we need not kindle a formal courtship.

May there be only light in your darkest hours.

fushichou: (10)

[personal profile] fushichou 2023-03-09 07:58 pm (UTC)(link)
[He is, in fact, not good. Kanesada presses himself a little closer to his companion, trying to be a living reminder of what matters here. What matters is their lives now. Sure, take in the destruction those things can do, definitely be aware of it so you can avoid it later, but don't get so wrapped up in it.

It strikes him, then, that even though Lan Wangji is a swordsman, Kanesada has no idea if he's ever witnessed death. He's certainly acting as if this is his first time seeing it, and then coupled with how he never wanted Kanesada to actually kill anybody in the past... It makes sense to him. Or maybe he's just painfully compassionate.

Kanesada did not fight in the same struggles Hijikata and the Shinsengumi did, not in this human body, but he was there for the last couple of years of Hijikata's life. He does not contain human memories of that war, only knowledge, but in his steel bones there is a remembrance, a visceral knowing of what war and fighting and death feels like. And in this body he has cut down countless demons of the enemy - demons, maybe corrupted tsukumogami like him, they still don't know for sure - so watching another creature go bereft of life just doesn't affect him in the same way.

He breathes out and grasps Lan Wangji's shoulders, trying to drag his eyes away from the brutal sight.]


They're dead. They're dead and we can't do anything about it. We can't save them.

[Not that they'd want to save another flavor of enemy, anyway, but that doesn't seem to be the issue here.]

But we can save us, yeah? Learn from that thing's mistakes and don't let it happen to us. We'll get out of here. Focus on that.
downswing: (gravity)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-03-09 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)


( He had known.

Rationally, viscerally, with inevitability. That it would be necessary, foregone and foretold. That a necromancer weds death first, and she is a faithful and alluring wife, and she works her wiles well.

That she will coax her straying husband back to her pocket like a needle calls to thread, that they would end here, as they once began: Wei Ying, stranded on a stretch's spread, fissured and crumbling underfoot. Might have been a rooftop, this, and instead it is a floor ground broken, the womb of a hallway, defiled. Only the staggered, wobbly tooth of a door yet separated the outside from the indoors, nominally.

...he cannot say which is which.

And here comes the anger of another creature, growling, its scowl like a scratch on pristine glaze. Here it dies on his sword, comes down to its knees, looks at him with canine pathos, and he might spare it pity — might have first when he glimpsed their blind loyalty, how they took Rathakku's instruction, unwavering. Might have thought, you are a fledgling, wayward thing, but you are loyal, you are loyal.

The turn of its eyes is bright as moonlight, nearly human. Lan Wangji extracts the sword.

After, there is a part of him that might dwell syrupy indolence. A place where he retires indifferent and carefree and watches as his body swerves, instincts perfected over years of war and decades of battle, as he catches one blade's thrust and deflects an arrow, as he moves with the whirlwind of rubble at his feet.

He is beside Wei Ying. This much is known, natural, every part and particle of the negative space that surrounds his shape. If he forgets all else tomorrow, he will remember this: to stand by Wei Ying's side that night, tonight, his brood of dead children enslaved before him. To turn Bichen's bled politely inward, where she might bite his calf, sooner than Wei Ying's own skin.

To wait the last tinny susurration of Wei Ying's song. And to breathe. )


How many can you hold? ( A twist, Bichen's gleam like a glinting grin. One of Rathakku's living harpies, come to claw, tumbles down. )

downswing: (survive)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-03-09 11:28 pm (UTC)(link)


( He speaks to Lan Wangji, as if to children. As if there is a kindness like a flame in him, kindling and stoking and rising. As if — he wishes to console.

No, this is not that need, not that hour. Only a time to shrug off Kanesada's hand with a shiver, a baring of his teeth. He will not bark, nor bite, but the warning lingers, No need to offend each other's dignity so. Touch stings and scars, and forced intimacy is no man's privilege.

They're dead. He. It. The creature, and the one that fed off it. When Lan Wangji lifts himself — one knee, then, dragged, the next — it may just as well be that they have become one. His eyes perpetually affixed on the horizon, gaze diffuse. )


This is worse than death. It is eradication. ( Savage, entire, cruel, annihilating. ) Nothing will ever bear that soul again.

( There is no more soul, only a lacking, an emptiness, a wistful and silent yearning. At first, Bichen steadies him as a crutch; now, hand clutching it, grip steeled, he uses it to steer himself.

No matter his stupour, they've a task before them. To cut the thing's cord. )

binghua: (16)

[personal profile] binghua 2023-03-09 11:39 pm (UTC)(link)
[Xingchen rides one of the wagons, deeming it safer than trudging along where any imperfection in the ground could literally trip him up. He still focuses on what he can hear past the rumble of the caravan, aware of the talismans he has filed away in a sleeve. Just in case.

More importantly, though, is the sword on his back. The sword which vibrates slightly against his back at first, but then grows more insistent the longer their trip goes on. Xingchen pulls it into his lap and rests his hands over the scabbard, almost willing Shuanghua to settle down.

After the wrongful death he's carried out with that blade, Xingchen hesitates to use it again. But if there is actual danger to the other refugees and he is capable of helping...

Hearing someone else voice their concerns, though, makes him feel a little better and he scoots closer to the edge of the wagons to answer the other man. He keeps his voice low and conversational so as not to alert the refugees or anyone else who may be watching them.]


Are you able to see anything?
bravelyrunsaway: (hah; glance down and away)

[personal profile] bravelyrunsaway 2023-03-10 03:42 am (UTC)(link)
You can't be both? ( an amused look. ) Not that it matters to me, you're not mine anymore than I'm yours.

( he doesn't leave with the soup, lifting an eyebrow. )

Were the old ways well versed in last stands after extensive sieges? The children and those in need are likewise tended. Turning down the well wishes of those who rely on you when it's their way to support you in turn? Think on it a little harder for their sakes.

( that said, he does move to set the soup down near where she is at the wall. if she feels strongly enough about it, she can walk it back. )

Besides, most stores have already been moved. Like most your people have.
bravelyrunsaway: (ha; your arrogance astounds)

[personal profile] bravelyrunsaway 2023-03-10 03:44 am (UTC)(link)
( he barks a laugh at that, shaking his head. )

The rats? Smarter than you lot, they left a while ago.

( patting down one of the many depleted pockets, attachments, the casings of things he keeps on him as he moves, and there. tosses the clean enough rag and oil to deimar, the small leather bulb of it meaning a dropped catch only makes for sad sounds on contacting the ground, not broken bottles. )

For your sword.
balancedwire: (Maybe Like This Instead?)

[personal profile] balancedwire 2023-03-10 06:20 am (UTC)(link)
[ Xie Yun wasn't entirely sure why things felt wrong at the moment, not when he couldn't see anything around them. That didn't mean that something wasn't there.

Hearing Xingchen he shakes his head even though he's sure the other can't really see it. ]

No, I don't see anything. At least not yet. Something, however, doesn't feel right. There's something out there. Something watching us.

[ He doesn't like that feeling but maybe it was just him. ]
weifinder: (ahaha... | next to me)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-03-10 07:34 am (UTC)(link)

( his collapse is the inevitability of his exertion, just as his eventual return to consciousness follows with a bone deep exhaustion making him slow to understand what's happening. braced in arms, moving. carried, the fight in dredges that suck at their feet like rancid mud, eager to consume.

xie lian. it takes too long for that to register, even as he makes a small, bitten off sound in warning when xie lian is already twisting, sword cleaving one more stray dead husk. he tries to reach out, chapped lips made to whistle, but he's spent. beyond spent, and dizzy with his helpers progress.
)

How long?

( he asks, but for what specifically, even he's not sure. has he been out? has xie lian been returned from hell? )

Those... creatures. That devour life itself. Did you disrupt them?

( asked while struggling to hold his head up. it's so tiring. his head is unaccountably heavy. everything is so heavy. )

Edited 2023-03-10 07:35 (UTC)
weifinder: (srs | to crush this land)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-03-10 07:42 am (UTC)(link)

( exhalation. his lips ache in the usual pleasant tingle of overwhelmed production, his tongue lathing over chapped skin, soothing. the broken, shattered world around them hands heavy in it's inevitable collapse, the blood defilements painting this landscape in mud and muck.

his husband asks, and he deigns answer. trusting this is genuine, knowing lan zhan holds no avarice for this particular power in his lungs.
)

More, for a period of time. We can stall them, keep them from Gut's Bind for as long as we can. Then...

( he frowns, cold darks of his eyes pouring over this fetid flower field of rot and stone and flesh. )

I'll be useless when I let go.

( sink in his teeth, bleed for him, and carry him away as he bleeds for, yearns for, an end to this violence.

but that it was more violence purchased, he knows not what to say. so little learned in his generation after all. so much more possible for those who follow, and here, too, that holds Truth.
)
scrapgege: (Default)

[personal profile] scrapgege 2023-03-10 05:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[Well that first question isn't very clear, but Xie Lian will answer it anyway.]

I picked you up about half an hour ago, I think?

[The hold on Weu Wuxian tightens a little, so that he won't fall just because he's suddenly aware and wriggling a bit.]

We did our best. I hope that'll be enough. I guess we'll know soon if it was.

Don't exert yourself too much. You need rest.
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (13)

[personal profile] blackscales 2023-03-10 08:17 pm (UTC)(link)
Hello! We were thinking of having Wei Wuxian & Wrathion do a good cop/bad cop routine on Haiva to try and pin him down -- Wrathion could obviously leverage knowledge of Haiva's daily routine etc to pick the best time and... arrange the best place. Would you be cool with this? & if so, is there a preferred... place on the timeline of shenanigans that would be best?
blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

[personal profile] blackscales 2023-03-10 08:23 pm (UTC)(link)
It's mostly a questioning exercise to try and fill in gaps -- WWX knows about the mirror shard bits, so between them they're a little 'bro what the fuck'. I suppose some of the answers might sway the result? Pinging everyone here in case there's sth more specific for WWX, but Wrathion is a little 'okay where did he GET the mirror....' with an ominous feeling.
jatharin: (deimar)

[personal profile] jatharin 2023-03-10 08:44 pm (UTC)(link)


( He seems, for a few heartbeats, content to let the rag and oil collide with hard ground, to wilt and spread and shatter. At the last moment, he leans in and catches both, the curl of his mouth a timid suggestion, Waste not, want not.

A nod in thanks, candid. It'll do. )


Yes, yes. We're very stupid, and you're very wise. Then, why haven't you gone? Off with you.

( There are enough seats in the caravans to house any fool. )

jatharin: (galatea)

[personal profile] jatharin 2023-03-10 08:49 pm (UTC)(link)


I have told you already. We are fasting, for strength of the spirit. To be better in battle, as the skies wish. As they have taught us. Impurity is correuption. If we are pure, we are not brittle. We do not break.

( Her gaze lands on the bowl of soup, neither greedy, nor disdainful — almost drained, as if she has seen this a thousands before her, constantly at war.

There are rows and rows of men who pass, inevitably. When it is the turn of one who seems both able and reduced of his strength, she offers out the bowl. It is received in trembling, grateful hand — the man scuttling away as if a rat.

She returns to her work, to her sword, to its polish. )


You are tempting me with food. It is unkind. ( It mocks her faith, she need not say. )

downswing: (二)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-03-10 09:22 pm (UTC)(link)


( Never useless. But reduced, perhaps. Thinned down to a shadow of himself, kitten-like and slowed. He has seen and collected the scraps of Wei Ying, scattered like ashes on Wen Ruohan's war grave, before settling him to blissful sleep for days, lost to the count.

But he wakes. Bright and dark-eyed, skittish, brimming with unspent energy. Wei Ying wakes, and it is a kindly and heart-wrenching indulgence, to be he who first greets him.

Now, to mind the dangers at his back, sword turning — first to parry, then stab, and steering Wei Ying gently with the sweep his arms to rotate and swap positions, so that Lan Wangji might interject against the threats that assail them. They have done this before: Wei Ying knows his part. Easier to defend him, when he is not static, when he falls in step with the dance. )


What can you command of them? ( To join, by the look of them. To serve as meat shields? Cannon fodder? To attack? How far can these dead be trusted? )

blackscales: Commission, Do Not Take! (8)

[personal profile] blackscales 2023-03-11 02:29 am (UTC)(link)
[ Wrathion hates cold water. This much, at least, Wangji knows by now.

For some inexplicable reason, however, Lan Wangji persists in entering icy water fully clothed. It seems, to Wrathion, a stubborn kind of madness. His own fingers are flexing against the chill as he hangs back, watching curiously from shallower depths. He's still hidden well enough, has the skill to stay still and quiet and in the shadows.

... The desire for information wars with the desire to simply not become ill and end up unable to assist further. How these sirens endure the ice for extended periods, given their more heated disposition, he's not entirely sure. Does it not lower their body temperature too, slowly? Does exuding flame constantly not melt this ice?

A distraction. He half-turns to Wangji: ]


Jatharin. Is that term familiar to you?

[ How simple or not this is depends on information. Starting a fight blindly isn't off the table for him, but he'd much prefer to go into it well informed and with a plan.

... And not cold. ]
scrapgege: (Default)

Xie Lian

[personal profile] scrapgege 2023-03-11 12:08 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Hell level one [TW: GENOCIDE, PANDEMIC, TORTURE]


[It turns out, the lava and the skeletons wasn't the hard part.

The hall of flames is suddenly engulfed in a crowd of people. Gaunt, bloody, some of them baring scars or missing limbs, some of them showing grotesque faces growing on parts of their bodies, and all of them, raring and raging towards a while silhouette that is clearly Xie Lian. on the mural, his body is pierced by a myriad of swords, all but skewering him entirely, and his mouth is open onto a silent scream.

And then the rattle of chains, and this dais is barely enough to contain the amount of people who seem to be appearing there, all of them calling out.]


'You trash god!'

'God of misfortune! You brought all on this on our heads!'

'This is all your fault! We didn't do anything wrong, you deserved it!'

'If we have to stay here then so do you!'



[Xie Lian takes a deep breath, plasters a smile on his face and turns around to face them.]

Come on, now. We all know this is not real and all these people have been dead for centuries. Who are you trying to fool?




II. Hell level two

[Why is it always weddings with spirits? What always gets into them?

Xie Lian throws the bits and pieces of the demon he just dismembered to the side and wipes his hands on his robes.]


I'm pretty sure we have enough corpse bits in here for a makeshift ghost wedding... Unless you have a better idea?


III. Hell level three

[Ruoye slaps away a tentacle like appendage that attempts to tie itself to Xie Lian, and he jumps back as far as he can. Not that it will help much. They are everywhere. And as powerful as Ruoye can be, the demonic energy in this place means its power are much less able to shield Xie Lian from detection.... And his power seems to keep drawing the Motherless to him.]

You really need to keep them away from me ! I don't think anything good will happen if they manage to siphon energy from me!

... I wonder if I could take some from them though?
downswing: (theodora)

[personal profile] downswing 2023-03-11 03:50 pm (UTC)(link)


( For the second time in a paltry collection of days, he finds himself shivered and chilled in Wrathion's vicinity.

For the second time in a paltry collection of days, he does not grasp what they are confronted with, past the sinister, insidious understanding that they've crossed into territory unknown, where the dead and dying and strange appear... adverse to the living.

Before, the woman of the rivers: a signal that the dead were in some manner inconvenienced by the living. Here, now: signs of demonic energies hunting down those with live. Symmetry. Sacrilege. His teeth, absently, chatter.

The Jatharin accepts a long reel of whitened... string? )


Local vernacular. ( Jatharin, perhaps nomenclature aimed at a slayer. Perhaps mere shrapnel inherited from a dead tongue. Alem seems a many-limbed creature, born off the bones of those it has displaced and invaded. Who knows what manner of beings sleep in their tombs?

No matter. First, on tip of Lan Wangji's tongue, the practicalities: a slip of drenched parchment, torn from the inexhaustible reserves of his qiankun purse. A treasured commodity, lit up with sparks and dregs of qi — a warming talisman, best suited to bloom the temperature of a delayed evening meal, not thoroughly mispurposed. He does not position it on Wrathion's shoulder, so much as, waves of his sleeve silks cresting, lets it saunter down. )
It will not keep long.

( Only until Lan Wangji redirects the better part of his attention elsewhere, to likely slaughter. We must all prioritise in this life and the next. )

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