stage iii

[groundrules]

THE ASHES

---

Image source.

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

Image source.

■ 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

Image source.

■ 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

Image source.

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

Comments

QUESTIONS

[groundrules]

This is an undead maaaaaannnnnnnnn's world. This is an undead maaaaaaaaaaaa's worth.

But it would mean nothing. Nothiiiiiiiiiing...

[blackscales]

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?

[chosenbylight]

Hello! Would people who spend time with Haiva in any capacity, like being his healers for example, notice any other changes to his regular appearance or behavior now that he has recovered? Other than the "confidence" that is noted?

Anduin had thought he was a similar personality to himself, given that he had said things about not being interested in ruling, so his sudden turn towards menacing the guards -- even towards cooperation -- is Troubling for him. He'd be looking for any other signs of anything else being Off.

[rehandle]

hello moddo

Quick q, would Stephen be able to get a more prolonged visual sense of the Motherless if he opens his ~third eye~, with its suspected Seeing Magical and Supernatural Nonsense abilities? Or are they stubbornly invisible regardless?

[inferus]

Is there any way for those connected to Hell to like feel the power of Hell shift as they disrupt the Motherless? And on that note, does Hell just start sealing up on its own when the Motherless are disrupted those three times?

Asking because closing Hell up is a whole process in Wrath/Emilia's canon so I don't know if they'd trust that alone would do it unless they like sensed/felt... something.

Re: QUESTIONS

[stephanivien]

So! Stephanivien is going to be heading down to hell quite happily, and sticking as close to deimar as he can manage while, you know, everyone is navigating hell.

Is Deimar actively going to be retreating when hell beings to close (I thiiink we have 2/3 motherless threads ongoing atm?) or is stephanivien going to have to bully/toss over Deimar his shoulder to get the king to retreat?

[bravelyrunsaway]

Did Galatea survive hell?

NPC THREADS

[groundrules]

Drop a line with a starter here or in the NPC inbox to speak to Deimar, Haiva, Galatea or Thyvault.

Cle-Florens is strictly watched, but can receive correspondence. Sadly, others might read your letters.

Rathakku can receive missives.

Galatea

[bravelyrunsaway]

( at some point, toward the end of this or however long she remains alive, look, who necessarily survives this, he finds Galatea with a container of thin soup, more about warmth and the ghost of nutrition and water to keep her going, like it is for the rest of the paladins and likewise guards who're eating the very same thing. )

Your portion, love, rations are going out and the cooks are minding who hasn't had what.

THE MOTHERLESS

[groundrules]

Drop a link here to your finished thread* disrupting the cord of a Motherless by 23:59 on 22 March.

*only the part relating to the Motherless needs to have finished by the time of submission for recording purposes c:

Disrupt three Motherless to seal Hell.

[valeas]

Bloop.

tl;dr the Motherless swarm and Wrath&Emilia cut down a couple of ropes in the process. In the spirit of fairness we do understand and expect this to just count as one. Now ... to get out of this mess. 😬

lan wangji | untamed

[downswing]

( Oooorrrrr bring your own wildcard prompt, if none of the below work for you! )

how is jatharin born

[downswing]

( They look at their shards with such malice. Such beautiful, snow-pristine malice.

Where Lan Wangji has slipped in the lake waters — where they have tumbled, for he does not swim or sink alone — the gentle thrumming and slurring of ice sheets rattling, collided, nearly coaxes him to listless sleep. It is cold; colder still, when his companion and Lan Wangji favour subterfuge and chase their cover behind the broad-backed stretch of a single, sunken icicle. Among glaciers it is nothing, little more than a blunt tooth. For them, a shield against discovery.

He does not flinch, when the crea — the siren presents her shards, when another consumes them. When the curves and ample lines of the latter's… scale-laden wormlike limb sunders into legs.

When the sirens whisper their words, their rites, their sorcery, and the apparition shapes itself like oils wrenched free from water, and he knows, part and whole of him, knows they face an ugly, vicious killing thing, made holy by the purity of his purpose. And the sister-summoner siren says, Jatharin, and the clutch of Lan Wangji’s hand on his sword’s hilt is a tight thing, choking. )

We could end this here, now. ( Water drenches his silks like claws on his back, curling. He hisses: ) It could be so simple.

( But then, that might prove to be sabotage, suicide, ruin. He sees the failure of it writ large and scalding. He does not risk himself alone, if he dashes in now. Cannot assume for two. And he waits — )

licyn mansbane | original character

[bravelyrunsaway]

open and closed prompts to follow!

when the bodies hit the floor

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He'd endured Zenobius, mostly teasing and flirting when the curmudugeon was getting too grumpy: Licyn was, on examination, clearly listening. The results were too deadly not to, and the results likewise too valuable to dismiss.

Which is why he's armed with more than his sword in the lingering remnants of this falling down keep, part of the lingering entourage of King Deimar. It means he's not yet evacuated, because the searing king isn't, but it also means he's on hand to throw a magic disabling explosive into the gap in the walls where Rathakku's undead forces. Leaving them all collapsing to the ground, but also meaning if you're doing any magic...

... he just cancelled your magic. He also feels tired, sapped, because in that moment, he's had his own innate magic's bleedoff suddenly, fully cut. )

Drag the bodies this way, we need to stack them and burn them to make this hole harder to get through!

wei wuxian | the untamed | ota

[weifinder]

Open and closed starters to follow! You're likewise welcome to tag this comment with your own wildcard if nothing I've written strikes your fancy.

i heard there was a secret chord | cw: dead dying explosively in threads

[weifinder]

( In the early last days, Wei Wuxian partitions out his strength. He's mortal, and what power he has is as liable as any other to wind down, to exhaust, and he refuses to take the measures of inviting those energies within himself to help bolster for longer. Not unless he must. Not unless it's what saves lives, without any other options.

He doesn't have the luxury of treating his own life as expendable.

Early days see him wresting small numbers of the newly resurrected from Rathakku. With enough of their personalities left, with enough recalling who they once were, the control he has over them allows him to present something like choice.

So when he turns to you and one of Alem's former living is at his side, and he asks: )

Hand them the explosive, please.

( The grim expression on both their faces is a precursor of what, specifically, is about to happen. )

Xie Yun | Legend of Fei

[balancedwire]

[ Or tag with your own wildcard adventure if none catch your fancy. ]

Not On My Watch

[balancedwire]

[ Sacrificing young children screamed Disha to him. Not that the paladins were Disha but that didn't mean he was going to allow someone, much less someone as young as Cle-Florens, be sacrificed.

He knows that the number of guards had been lowered that were protecting her quarters. Knows that if he wanted to do this then he'd have to blend in. Hell, he's posed as Disha before and posing as a guard wouldn't be hard.

Sure, someone could probably mistake him for someone that he's not but no one was going to get to the girl to sacrifice her, not on his watch. ]

Beitang Moran

[beitangmoran]

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.

I

[wantshappiness]

[She considered following into Hell to help. But the fact of the matter was she had very little in terms of physical strength or stamina and her own weapon, her psychic powers may very well not work well on anything there.

So she stayed. Humans, even of the undead variety were infinitely easier for her to deal with.

When the paladin is threatened, their companion reaches to draw their weapons...only to stop in their actions all of a sudden, freezing mid-motion in a way that was not at all natural.

Then, just as suddenly they sheathed their swords and stood perfectly still.]

I am also interested to know what is going on.

[She had dug out her helmet, made of a material that is tuned to the frequency of her hypno. It makes it hard to recognize her features or voice...however, she is one of few young girls in their caravan so it may not be so effective if they were to meet again afterwards. Still, she didn't have the time to figure out a different solution...so this will have to do.]

Xie Lian

[scrapgege]

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?

hell.003

[downswing]

( This, Lan Wangji has learned: there is no end to Xie Lian's misfortunes, only bitter, steadfast beginning. And Lan Wangji is impossibly, interminably drawn into the horror of his gently questionable life choices.

Now, sweat beads his back, the press of Bichen's hilt bites his palm to welting. He has crossed the path of countless Motherless already, at each turn haunting, gliding, listlessly approaching. Always disconnecting at the last moment, to chase less quarrelsome prey.

...and now, Xie Lian thinks to marry them spiritually. )

Do not attempt it. ( Hissed, no, snarled. White of his teeth glistened and cruel, vulgar. A dog would think him subtle. ) You would yet bind them to you.

( ...and invite their consumption. Lan Wangji, who cannot say with utmost certainty that conjugal ties are bliss, supposes there are better unions even Xie Lian could hope to aspire to. )

stephen strange . mcu

[rehandle]

( A collecting spot for starters! If you'd like anything specific hit me at miscreates, or feel free to drop me a wildcard. )

are you tired of being nice?

[rehandle]

[ This isn't like any battle he's been in before. Oftentimes, by the time a conflict is on the radar of the Masters of the Mystic Arts, it's either so specific to sorcery that there's no other way to deal with it or it's so huge that it's already in its final throes with an army of the galaxy's finest all ready to throw themselves into the mix.

This fight has had time. Huge, yes, but a vastness outside of his usual remit. There's no backup coming. The battle is less final than infinite, an ongoing push that started long before they arrived but will at least finish before they leave - if they leave. Stephen's been a soldier at war before but not like this. Not flanked by citizens turned soldiers forced to take up arms just to die and be awoken again by the very enemy whose forces struck them down. It's chaos. Outside the castle the undead press in, and inside the castle the dead stumble back up onto their feet to turn on former comrades.

Out there somewhere, Rathakku orchestrates. The same undead thing that had made a murderer of him just weeks before.

The fighting has been fierce all day. He's been zipping around, pulling harpies out of the air with whips of golden magic or sending the same terrible lightning that had ruined one of the merchant's gates down to splinter a catapult into nothing. But finally, after the latest batch of murdered soldiers rise from where they fall and are engaged in battle again with their former friends, something snaps. If it's reinforcements they need, he can provide.

Stephen soars above the writhing mass of undead gathered around the slowly falling fortress, one man and a cloak that billows in the wind. One man for now, at least. Up here in the air he's an easier target for screeching harpies and one spots him, turns to gun for him, but he's busy with another focus. Hands come together, raise, and as they do another pair - another - another - all spill out and spread around him until there are so many arms reaching out from his torso it's almost impossible to count them. Then, a second later, as the harpy is mere metres from him— they split.

And suddenly there is not just one Stephen Strange in the air above the battle. There are fifty. A hundred. All of them copy the exact same motions, and the harpy careens on, and as it flies straight through the illusory body of a Stephen who isn't really there the real one turns to catch it with a whip. The closest twenty copies do the same, and with one yank of his many wrists the harpy is torn to shreds.

He turns his attention back to the battle below him. Power coils in his hand and a hundred hands around him, and once it's grown into an orb of pure amber fury he sends it down, down into the waiting armies outside the castle, a hundred living corpses burning up under raining columns of concentrated magic.

Call on him if you need him. With the towers soon to fall, he's available for rescues and on the spot cremations in what is fast becoming a free for all. ]

Daenerys Targaryen | A Song of Ice and Fire

[song_of_fire]

The Departing

[It's chaos, even when they are finally able to depart and travel through the mountain pass. Safety is something that's never been expected, but hope has always been her childish wish, no matter how many times she's disappointed. Dany travels to and from the front of the caravan, checking on the women, children and sick at various points. Drogon is not far away, sweeping through the canyons in large, aggressive loops.

Despite her attempts to call Drogon back, his shrieks echo off the stone, sending a few pebbles tumbling off the sides of the mountain. Save for the horses and general hum of the populace, much of the way seems quiet. Or, quite likely, Danny is hypervigilant for the sound of pursuers or threats nearby. It's why she's quick to peer over the side of the road, gazing down where the sound of fluttering wings is coming from.

With a jolt that spooks the horses, Drogon launches up into the sky, tearing at another winged creature (a bat, Dany thinks). Both screeching at each other, ripping at the other's neck with long fangs. No. No. She can see a few scales fall, a cry of...fury? pain? sounds from her dragon.]

Drogon! Dracarys!

Level I

Dany, please!

[Viserys' voice is as sharp and pleading as the night her husband bestowed him his crown. Chained to the wall, there is no change to him. His clothes, the fine garb Illyrio had given him, is torn and bloodied. There are hints of gold specks at his shoulders and collar, moving ever so slightly as he leans towards her. Violet eyes bore into her back, driving a dagger through her skin, even if she turns away. Take my place! Take my place!'

No, he's dead. He's long been dead.]

How are they doing this?

Level I

[wooden_one]

[He knows of certain demons' tendency to use illusions to trick people into staying.

This feels unnecessarily cruel but it also wasn't so strange.]

Some creatures can draw on feelings and memories in our own minds.

[He doesn't ask who that person was, though it's clear whoever it is is dear to her.

He raises his hand, uncertain if he means to comfort or give her a light push. He is too thin faced to offer so he lets his arm drop again. All he knows to offer is this:]

That's not him.

[He tries to be gentle but he fears he sounds too cold, too immoveable.]

Chu Wanning | The Husky and His White Cat Shizun

[wooden_one]

i: Did you think he wouldn't whip someone?

[Chu Wanning has barely been resting. He's setting up barriers wherever he could. Protecting against attacks on the battlefield, barriers for keeping out the cold where the wounded and defenseless rested.

He offers what meager rations he has to others, pushing himself to his limits...and all for what? He--and others, have bled to save as many as they could and what do these paladins do? Go after a child? Sacrifice her...for what ends? What could they possibly accomplish with that?

The anger over the situation simmers and simmers until like a pressure cooker it explodes the first time he finds a paladin trying to get into the princess's rooms.

He only confirms that the paladin was guilty--Tianwen's ability made sure to get an answer. And then he whips the man. Armour is a useful thing against normal weapons but Tianwen is not a normal weapon. It cuts through the armour with only a little application of spirit energy...then Chu Wanning keeps on going.

He doesn't intend to kill the man but he doesn't intend to let the him off easy, either. Attempt to stop him...

...or don't. Eventually he stops and hauls the man off, throwing him in another hall where others can see, a staircase between the paladin and the princess's chambers, one long enough that going up with such severe wounds will make such a trek difficult.

Then he steps around the man and heads back out into battle, looking as if he'd whip the next person who looked at him wrong. He does not stop to explain himself.]

ii: let me accompany you into hell (Level 1)

[Even when tired he wouldn't hesitate to go into hell. He wouldn't be Chu Wanning if he did.

He has many people he feels guilty towards that show up in the walls of flames, they flicker, changing as Chu Wanning passes towards the dais.

Nangong Liu's wife, Rong Yan: a hole on her chest where her heart should be accusing him of letting her die--of letting her murderer go.

Huai Zui: accusing Chu Wanning of being a good-for-nothing, ungrateful thing. That if he couldn't leave his spirit core behind then at least Chu Wanning should stay here in his place.

If someone stops him he will, but otherwise he passes by these visions, his nails biting into his palm.

Then the image changes and it's Mo Ran: accusing him of being cold, of being awful and condescending. Isn't it Chu Wanning's fault he was nearly skewered in Butterfly Town? Wasn't it Chu Wanning's failure that he was nearly killed under Jincheng Lake? Would things in Peach Blossom Springs have escalated if Chu Wanning had just done his duty as his Shizun?

This was the worse one, this one made Chu Wanning pause when he came up to the dais and saw "Mo Ran" chained there.]

The least shizun can do is set me free by taking my place.

i

[beitangmoran]

[Moran is certainly not going to stop him. In fact, he doesn't even have any qualms about killing if any of those people make the wrong move. So far, they've backed down when threatened, but it's only a matter of time. He's prepared for that.

That's some impressive whipping though. He's very impressed.]

Daozhang, catch your beath for a minute.

[He's actually been guarding the door in plain view himself. He's more useful here than outside anyway.]

bucky barnes — mcu

[traumatology]

( all prompts ota. )

HIGH CASTLE

[traumatology]

( it would have been easy to just retreat entirely after the whole paladin thing. he'd managed to shake the spectre free, get it out of his body and back in his right mind.

but, it had an affect. he's been cold, closed off, angry to those that approach and he's using that now. it's probably the best way to outlet his emotions.

he knows how to fight. he lives the fight. and when some screaming harpie comes flying at him, he holds up his arm and let's it take a taste of metal.

it's clearly expecting skin, bone, sinew so metal gets its attention, sends it staggering back and he manages to get a knife out of his boot and drive it into the harpy's head.

it's pure reaction that has the harpy kicking out at him, sending him flying backwards and ripping his coat but the thing stumbles off, bleeding, and soon to die.

bucky gets back to his feet only for a quake to hit and send him toppling over the edge of the ledge he'd been on, falling to a terrace below. he hits with a thump and then groans, laying there for a second. )

Yeah, okay.

( and then he's back up to find something else to fight. )

emilia di carlo, kingdom of the wicked.

[valeas]

→ HIGH CASTLE

As Emilia anticipated, tending to the deep fissures in the Room of Seals depletes a great deal of her strength. Her magic wavers; where her body had sung with power, she now feels its limit like a wall erected. It isn't just the curse holding her back this time, either. Hell is greedy, and consumes what it can.

Wei Wuxian will take the next shift. Wrath after him. She closes her eyes for minutes, or so it feels, and opens them to renewed screams. To the fortress shuddering its last breath.

She snaps into action, intent on making her way back to the Room, to Wrath. She seeks familiar faces on her way, slashes her dagger into what she must. If blood splatters on her face, she barely notices.

A catapult strike lurches her sideways, and what happens after is instinct: a ring of protective light flares up in a twenty-foot-radius around her. The dome shape of it bears the brunt of rubble from the collapse above. Hands extended, she looks to the people inside the translucent dome with her.

"Where were you headed?"

→ COME HELL, THEN DARK WATER

The fire water is familiar to her. Emilia stares, entranced and unharmed, as some of it splashes onto her foot. I was not born, she thinks, a memory rattled. I was made.

She was never a star witch, but the stars were hers, once.

The fire water recognizes her, in turn. So does the mermaid that starts to reach out, and stops. Tilts her head with that recognition, before she grudgingly submerges back into the lava. There's no time to be disconcerted, to question herself and a life that she'd thought real.

Indecision is death, and she charges forward with her companions.

A wall of flames up ahead slows her steps, her exhale scorching. The shape of it has yet to take full form, and she strains her eyes to make sense of it. Does anyone else see the depiction, too?

NOTE: I love prose and brackets equally, so follow your heart and I'll match your preference. Feel free to wildcard or reach me at moonstones if there's something else you'd like to do with Emilia.

[inferus]

♪ They traverse the third level of Hell in the company of several paladins who state that disrupting the Motherless is all it would take to seal Hell again. Wrath's gaze - gold and black, darts to his wife's. It's subtle but she will see that hint of disbelief in his expression. In their own world, closing Hell requires far more like the amulet wrapped around his neck (given to him by her long before she knew what they meant to him, what they truly are). Still this world is not their own, and Wrath's connection to this Hell may be different than his own, but he can still feel it. He will know whether or not it is truly working, and he has yet to have the chance to ask if Emilia can feel it too or if the curse has blocked that from her.

She was made for Hell - long before he was made for Heaven.

There is no time to speak of anything now. They are to head into battle so strategy comes first. Generals delegate.

The paladins go further to explain the Motherless are invisible but drawn to warmth, drawn to pure spirits, which Wrath certainly qualifies as neither. They can only briefly be seen when they release their ropes below, but otherwise float invisibly in the sky above.

Wrath's hand remains on the hilt of his dagger - serpent crawling around it against his fingertips. He aches to use it to tear all the creatures of this false Hell apart, but his focus must be forward. He remains near his wife, imagining the beautiful wreckage they could create together if they were unleashed here.

"We need to draw its attention."

merrin | star wars jedi: fallen order

[starscollapse]

[ open and closed starters below! hit me up at geekorthodox for anything more specific! ]

high castle

[starscollapse]

[ As the fortress around them continues to fall, a cold unlike any that Merrin has known before begins to set in. Much of Dathomir was still unexplored and uninhabitable, but where she resided, the temperature was comfortable and consistent; here, she is ill-prepared in far too many ways. She takes note of those shivering, huddling for warmth, barely able to remain in one place for long as the attacks grow ever more deadly and relentless. She helps with kindling fires as she can, but her focus is pulled in many directions endlessly.

With her magick, she can steady the ground at times to prevent further collapse, but her power isn't limitless. Merrin dutifully maintains her posts until the remaining towers collapse, and then she moves between different areas of the citadel when she can, knowing help is needed everywhere.

As she turns a corner and the ground shifts beneath them again, Merrin quickly wields her green magickal ichor to move a pillar out of the way just before it collapses on whomever happens to be passing through. A dire situation, perhaps, but her voice is strangely calm when she speaks. ]

You were not meant for death today. I make no such promises for tomorrow.

[ Comforting, of course, right? ]

→ jinx

[chromiums]

[ lorna's had nightmares of futures like this when her mind sinks into its darkest places, especially since she'd first learned she was pregnant. this is just a little less reminiscent of terminator, unfortunately for her. at least she could work with the metal if there were more murderous robots.

she realizes, belatedly, that she can feel it in the air, mistaking it for the blood of another person at first. but then she feels a stronger pull, something almost tangible, and that either means somebody's spilling a lot of blood or they've got a potential weapon with them.

she breaks into a run, carefully stepping around stone and narrowly avoiding the serpents, until she comes across another woman, crouched over something she can't quite make out from where she's standing. green energy encircles her hands, which are poised in a way that suggests she's trying to feel something out. ]

Hey. Are you hurt? [ the sensation is too strong to just be blood, but that doesn't mean she isn't. ]

[hexgem]

[ Some things about this hell are familiar, even comforting to Jinx. She feels at home in cavernous spaces. The monsters give her something to focus on, somewhere to point her wrath. She prefers them to disembodied voices that can't be so easily dispatched.

Jinx doesn't travel light: strapped to her back is Pow-Pow, a machine gun more than half her size; she also carries an overstuffed satchel, stretched to capacity with grenades that Jinx assembled herself in the forges. While used to carrying heavy artillery, she still has to take a break from time to time. She is catching her breath, doubled over with her hands on her knees, when someone asks after her.

She doesn't answer the question. Instead, she fixates curiously on the glowing light surrounding the woman's hands. ] Are you a witch?

closed to lorna

[rumorate]

[Allison is - gently - giving orders as they gather people together, making sure that all the supplies are loaded onto the proper caravans. They don't have a lot of time, so she's trying to keep this as efficient as possible, and smooth over any friction between the merchants and the locals.

They're all trying their best, and they'll all die if they don't get out of here as a team. She's trying to do her best to remind them of that.

After starting to load some of the children onto one of the caravans, she spots a familiar face in the crowd and relaxes that her friend seems to be okay for now.]

Hey. Everything good?

[chromiums]

[ lorna's been alternating between directing people and loading things herself - it's quicker for her, given her abilities, and she ends up being able to rearrange some of the crates so that they end up being able to fit one or two more on.

lorna turns when she hears someone addressing her and brightens when she sees it's allison, telling the person she's currently assisting where she's going before heading over to her. she smiles and it's exhausted, but genuine. ]

Close enough to it. What about you?

Su Xunxian | Oh! My Emperor

[topoiran]

so, so, so late...

Hassir

Xunxian has done his best to stay out of the worst of danger, in keeping to his promise to not put Moran through losing him again. So he is relatively unhurt, though there were times when he wielded his still-new sword, or his mended fan, in the defense of those making their way to the monastery.

And now he winds his way gracefully through the refugees, Alem's and wanderers alike, to see if he can help.

"Is there something that you need ... that I can reasonably procure for you?" Not everyone is up to moving freely, and he does wish to relieve those who got hurt, who tried harder than he did. But he's also not a miracle maker.

Wildcard

ooc: Or drag him into shenanigans on the way.