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westwhere2023-07-26 05:56 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2023-07-26 05:56 pm
Entry tags:
- arcane: caitlyn,
- assassin's creed: jacob frye,
- assassin's creed: ratonhnhake:ton,
- back to the future: marty mcfly,
- better call saul: jimmy mcgill,
- better call saul: nacho varga,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- last case of benedict fox: benedict fox,
- lockwood & co: anthony lockwood,
- lockwood & co: lucy carlyle,
- mcu: america chavez,
- mcu: bucky barnes,
- mcu: kamala khan,
- oh! my emperor: su xunxian,
- owl house: eda clawthorne,
- penny dreadful: vanessa ives,
- star wars: cal kestis,
- test drive,
- umbrella academy: five,
- untamed: lan sizhui,
- untamed: lan xichen,
- warcraft: wrathion
the house of manouk | test drive meme
Hello, hello! Our latest event — doubling as a test drive meme and stretching until 12 August — is a one-off incursion in an uncharted time pocket dimension — the House of Manouk.
Anyone can hit up the test drive meme, but you will need an invite from an existing player to apply on 5 August. Have fun!
THE TERRACE
Old or new, you wake up on a white-stone terrace dominated by a twisting hedge maze that houses great columns, tattered statues, ponds, rivers, gazebos and pergolas — and high looming walls of thickly bound ivy, bloomed roses or thorny vines. Walking the Terrace somehow always brings you deeper into the maze, while a flushed, sunless sky stares down, unblinking.
You experience no thirst, hunger or language barriers here. Old translation & communication pendants can nevertheless be found scattered across the Terrace and Grounds.
New arrivals encounter the sorceress Karsa, who explains you were likely summoned by one of the undead lords who seeks control of Akhuras — and reached, along with the party she leads, a pocket dimension outside of time. Karsa’s associate, the Merchant, instructed to exit the time dimension by finding Ellethian waypoints — typically stone tokens engraved with the carvings of an eye with a sun for a pupil. Karsa may activate them for you to leave this place.
Your mission is to search the House and find the waypoints of Ellethia or of the rival Dawn’s Reach Trade Company without attracting the ire of the local exiled overlord(s).
- ■ Some of the statues you discover on the Terrace seem crudely carved, gaining the features of your loved ones, the longer you stare at them. Some seek to throttle. Escape them by having someone else stare at them, becoming their new target, or by leading them in a crowd of other statues.
■ Beware getting pricked by thorns: covetous vines can quickly ensnare and pull you into the maze’s green walls, or bind your hand to that of your companion.
■ The maze’s weather often mimics your mood: nice and balmy for contentment, cold for fear, torrential rain for sadness and a heatwave to answer anger. Smile.
■ Every now and then, you hear screams from other parts of the maze. Run, and you might find pairs of steel manacles or rusted chain on bloodied grounds, from where fresh rose bushes quickly rise up. Investigate.
■ Go deeper in the maze, and you find a heap of small stone tablets. Most list names, ages, occupations and include loving remarks, such as the finest husband or she smiled ever bright. Alarmingly, when your companion’s back is turned, you find tablets engraved with your handwriting, saying, don’t turn your back to them, blood reeks strong on them and that’s not their name. There are no waypoint tokens here.
■ Spend enough time in the maze, and you discover an old, red-eyed, white-haired and hunchbacked man with two chainless shackles on his wrists. He ignores you, muttering to himself about how the House must keep moving, moving. The House doesn’t like you. The House is awake. The House should sleep. The old man hits or trips you with his cane, or you might wake to find him hovering very closely over you. Engage him.
■ Now and then, he seems suddenly alert, if not outright fearful, shrieking that he comes and rushing to tinker with pulleys and stone mechanisms hidden within the maze vine walls. The maze’s architecture abruptly changes, with the ground quaking, walls shifting, while old plants wilt and fresh ones rise up within heartbeats. As the House changes, you might spot a long, spiralling staircase at short distance. Go down into…
THE GROUNDS
The ground level of the House is splintered in dozens of decaying rooms, many locked. There are no windows here, dust thick in every corner, while faint scratches and canine footprints mar the floors — the marks of dozens of great skeletal hounds that haunt the corridors.
The dogs lead, chase or drag you towards a shuttered hall room, where a middle-aged, red-eyed and white-haired man furiously searches through haphazard mounds of tousled tomes. He too wears shackles. His manner is perfunctorily polite, as he calls back his dogs.
”…not from around here, are you? Must have broken time. Hooligan. Well, you’ve travelled centuries to be disappointed. There are no mysteries here, no epiphanies. All the great wells of myth and magic? Some other pigs have drunk them dry. Blame your luck, for bringing you to the shambling hut of — …the fine House of Manouk. Taravast’s greatest necromancer, til his mind turned to slaughter.
I was his disciple. Lisanther. Must’ve come from high on, did you? These cursed shackles… he senses everyone in his House through them. If he feels us on his scent, he works his little screws and wheels and moves the House stairs. Impressed? Don’t be. He’s a wreck, who feasts on time echoes of the anguished. That’s him. Paints a picture, doesn’t he? Stay out of his sights, or you’ll wear his chains soon too. Same as me, same as the dog he keeps in the dungeons. Dragged back every time he wanders.
If you want to make yourself useful, help me. I traded fairly with a caravan of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company. They say they left behind scrolls in these grounds, with the words to free me. They overcharge, but they don’t lie. Help me find them. Break my chains, and I’ll break us out. I can. I swear it. ”
I was his disciple. Lisanther. Must’ve come from high on, did you? These cursed shackles… he senses everyone in his House through them. If he feels us on his scent, he works his little screws and wheels and moves the House stairs. Impressed? Don’t be. He’s a wreck, who feasts on time echoes of the anguished. That’s him. Paints a picture, doesn’t he? Stay out of his sights, or you’ll wear his chains soon too. Same as me, same as the dog he keeps in the dungeons. Dragged back every time he wanders.
If you want to make yourself useful, help me. I traded fairly with a caravan of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company. They say they left behind scrolls in these grounds, with the words to free me. They overcharge, but they don’t lie. Help me find them. Break my chains, and I’ll break us out. I can. I swear it. ”
Deeper into the claustrophobic Grounds, you find specters of men and women, chained just like Lisanther — their skin translucent, their gazes lethargic. They feel neither dead nor alive to the magically sensitive. They are either very present in the moment or barely recall their whereabouts. If asked about tokens, they say the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company left scrolls in the Grounds main quarters:
- ▶ Bathing quarters
At times pristine and delightful, at others blood-marked and torn. The waters abruptly run very hot, cold or silty. The spectre of a wo/man might appear in the tub, staring unblinkingly or murmuring that people do all sorts of wickedness in this bathroom: they have even witnessed stabbings, treasures being hidden beneath tile boards, and even a birthing!
▶ Kitchens
Sprawling and soot-laden, bursting with supplies of stale wheat, eccentric cakes, exotic fruit and spice jars, these kitchens were built for long service. A heavy cauldron bubbles and boils a green broth in a cold fireplace, where ash and stone drown wood. A circle of spectres troubleshoots how to improve the meal — just as the kitchens’ doors slam shut, and they cordially invite you to do the legwork for their recipe. They instruct you to chop, clean and prepare the most unusual ingredients: hair of a dog, salt, moulded thyme, arsenic, one of your finest love stories… they’ll tire of their creation and release you within the hour. Don’t dine, dash.
▶ Sleeping chambers
There’s rest for the wicked in these deserted sleeping quarters, which boast exceptionally well-stuffed cushions and pillows, blankets and ‘reading materials’ — torn pages from books of history and magic. Some speak of the desperate attempts of the rulers of Taravast to flee death. Others talk of using spells, the elements and even mass sacrifice to achieve immortality. Enjoy your rest, only perturbed by occasional distant screams —
…or perhaps by a large, feral white bear that bursts in to briefly chase you, before disappearing. Veteran travellers may recognise him as the creature of Anurr.
Some of the chain-breaking scrolls of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company can be found in each of the main rooms, along with some of the Company’s talismans, marked as waypoints, which should be brought to Karsa. See what your character finds.
Finish up here, or meander down a final stairwell to —
THE DUNGEONS
Cold, deteriorating, crumbling — difficult to say if this is a tightly bound knot of underground tunnels, or a torturous weave of lost dungeons. Parts of the floor crumble to reveal abyssal depths below — or suddenly appear beneath your feet, to help your progress. Emptied, creaking bookcases abound. Here and there, you see your reflection in shattered wall-length mirrors, moving differently than you, or just slightly older or younger than you are.
■ Revived skeletons patrol the corridors, scantily armed with base blades, stones and torches. They largely ignore you, only blocking your path if you near a magically-locked stone door in the back of the Dungeons, from where you hear… human pleas.
■ Door engravings instruct to speak out the three truths of each day. Nearby, you find a mound of crumbled stone tablets, along with three golden ones raised on pedestals that read:
- ▶ with morning, my body is a weapon, sun-seeking, righteousness-bound
▶ by midday, my flesh has bent and battered, a shield of justice for young life to come
▶ come evening, I am blood and bone, a humble house to hope eternal
■ Tip bookcases into the narrow corridors to prevent the skeletal guards from reaching you, as you search diligently through the stone debris beneath the golden pedestals. You might even find Ellethian waypoint tokens: palm-wide, marked with a sun pupil. Take them to Karsa immediately… or open the now unlocked dungeon door as a man calls out.
■ Enter, and you discover an dimly lit dungeon alcove, with animate skeletal heads hanging on each wall. They cackle, Mind your step. Heed them and look for holes in the floor tiles — needle-thin spikes emerge from there periodically.
■ Go deeper, and you discover a large bare stone room, scantly livened by torches bearing green fire. A small hole — barely enough to fit a grown man standing and lying down — has been dug into one of the walls and secured. This inhumane prison’s bars crackle and sizzle with magical electricity. A skeletal hound waits by, with a set of keys fastened to its collar.
■ A white-haired, red-eyed twenty-something young man sprawls haphazardly in the prison: battered, swathed in rags, shackled and wild. He holds out his blood-tipped hand between the bars, but fails to lure the dog close — and calls out to you, instead:
”You must be mad to come to me. The old man sent you? Finally? Good. How wonderful. I’ll spit on you, and I’ll spit on his grave. He left me here to die. And now he’s remembered me? What does he want? …no. It doesn’t matter. Rip the keys off that mutt and get me out of here. ”
You can engage or release him, if you coax the key from the recalcitrant dog. Or leave him be and see Karsa with your waypoint token.
NOTES:
- ■ There are multiple waypoint tokens to leave the time dimension: the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company talismans, hidden in the Ground rooms, and the Ellethian tokens, found in the dungeons. Bring whichever one you discover to Karsa.
■ You can optionally solve the mystery of Lisanther, the prisoner, Manouk and the spectres.
■ The House’s layout changes periodically, but characters can find the stairs to travel across the three levels every few hours.
■ Mention in your top level if you play an old timer or a test driving tourist. TDMers can make both logs and network prompts here!
■ QUESTIONS & NPC INBOX!
zari tomaz | dctv/legends of tomorrow | tourist
[A thundercloud grumbles softly overhead, following Zari around in an irritatingly Eyeore-ish manner. It's so annoying that, even as the thundercloud continues to build slowly, dripping heavy rain at periodic intervals, the weather around her is also becoming increasingly, uncomfortably, warm.
She's not meandering with any particular purpose. She's not in any rush to find waypoint tokens. For all she knows, the home she left doesn't exist anymore, or is so different that it might as well not exist. She might not have any place in it. She's not entirely convinced she didn't accidentally create this place somehow. The dangers of time travel.
Arms crossed petulantly over her chest, she lets her head fall back and utters a groan up at the sky. Her reward for this is another bout of rain directly on her face.
Before she can finish wiping the water out of her eyes, a bloodcurdling scream tears through the hedge maze. Zari takes off running towards the source, not caring who she's running past – or directly into.]
II. The Grounds (Kitchens)
[Zari never learned how to make a decent meal, and every ghost in the kitchen is being very certain to let her know that, even as they continue to pressure her to cook for them. She's doing a terrible job of chopping up some dried bat wings when the ghosts inform her of the next ingredient.
She scoffs.]
Yeah, I'm not telling you a love story.
[Her boyfriend just died. Like, literally just died. And she certainly has not processed the emotional rollercoaster of the love her life getting murdered by a demon and then resurrected by a bunch of singing circus-goers right before she was wiped from the timeline. So, no, she doesn't want to tell - or even hear, really - a love story.
She looks up to the other hapless victim of these culinary spirits, raising an eyebrow in a silent question: do you want to tell them one?]
III. The Dungeons
[The skeletons haven't really been bothering her, so Zari hasn't really been bothering them, perfectly content to just wander around, exploring at her own pace, trying not to be freaked out by all the ever-so-slightly off reflections of herself looking out at her from all the broken mirrors. Why are there so many mirrors in a dungeon? Are they there for the express purpose of upping the creepy factor? If so, it's working.
But once she stumbles across a massive stone door engraved with writing, things change. Now the skeletons are all angry, and she can tell that they're angry because they're marching very deliberately to block her path to the door, swords raised.
Someone else seems to have found the door at the same time. Zari grimaces at them.]
You think those skeletons're gonna open the door for us?
IV. Wildcard!
[Go hog wild folks, I'm up for anything.]
ii - Zari!! I love her!!!
Regardless, she gives a thumbs up when Zari looks her way.] I've got us!
[She proceeds to recap the plot of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. Really, they asked for it.]
no subject
And enough energy for both of them.
The story is vaguely familiar, like a movie she saw when she was little. Ignoring the ghost pointing out that her attempted at julienned bat wings are closer to minced bat wings, Zari looks up at Kamala, impressed.]
You make that story up?
no subject
[She makes direct eye contact with the ghosts and adds in the most passive-aggressive way she can.] I think it's great she's trying so hard. Don't you?
no subject
Zari. And don't worry, I've had weirder. Remind me to tell you about the telepathic gorilla. Or the futuristic AI that kept me trapped in a time loop until I learned about the power of friendship. Or the time my friends locked me in a cat carrier. [Hang on, that last one sounds even weirder than she means it to.] I was a cat.
no subject
[She shrugs.] Are people always this mean to you?
iii
( Licyn stood at ease, one hand settled on the hilt of his sword, taking measured steps away from the engraved door. Notably, the skeleton guards turn sightless sockets his way, then preferentially aim toward Zari, who remains closer to the door. )
Only question is if in a house run by one who meddles with the dead, someone worse or better than their moral standards lies beyond.
( He pauses, canting his head to the side, and smiles, grimly. )
Because there's certainly a voice speaking from the other side of that door, love, one way or another.
no subject
Zari really doesn't want trouble.
But if there's someone trapped in there...]
Nothing good's ever been behind a door that ominous.
[Despite saying that, she raises her hands, ready to attack the skeletons. She's not about to not answer a call for help. Even against her better judgement.]
no subject
You speak sense, then immediately gesture toward nonsense? If nothing good is ever behind a door like that, we should walk away. Not fight harder to get inside.
( He continues to be amazed people survive so many of their stupider impulses, especially when it proves again and again around here that they're utterly mad to follow those instincts, in his opinion. Instincts for trouble! There's no other word for it. )
Besides, fight to get to it, then what? There's no keyhole. Just that engraved nonsense!
no subject
She draws her hands back further, and the jewel in her wristband flares red as she suddenly thrusts her hands forward, a strong wind kicking up around her directed right towards the skeletons. They shatter in a shower of disconnected bones as they're slammed into the stone wall by the blast of air.]
Come on, let's check out those engravings. [Before the skeletons... reform. Or whatever. Or more arrive.]
no subject
Magic is the source of so many problems in this Storm-struck world they've been caught in, more magic having sometimes better results leaves him feeling ill at ease. )
Oh, feel free, you've got your... magic. To help you. I'll just stand over here, by the lovely looking gold plates.
( Taking steps back, he does come to rest in line with at least one golden tablet, and a glance to it corrects his understanding of the object: )
More flat, gold-covered stones. What does this say... "With morning, my body is a weapon, sun-seeking, righteousness-bound."
( He pauses, shaking his head. )
Nonsense riddle.
ii
She glances up from her task when she's addressed, raising her eyebrows as if to say me? But all the spirits turn to look at her too, and expectantly, so yes, she supposes her.
Honestly, she isn't much for storytelling either, and her people aren't really the sentimental type. They don't have too many love stories, and the ones they do have either end in tragedy or function as warnings against putting love above power and your sisters. They aren't fun stories, but that's Nightsisters for you. ]
You do not know any love stories?
[ That's directed towards the other woman, who she noticed had seemed strangely adamant against telling a story. ]
no subject
None that end well.
[One of the ghosts points out that she isn't dicing the bat wings properly, but without having any idea what 'dicing' means, the most she can do is start cutting them on a slightly different angle.]
One of us has to tell them something, or they're gonna keep us cooking this thing forever. [A pause.] Or worse. Make us eat it.
no subject
If they keep us here forever, eating it may be the better option.
[ Her tone is dry as dirt. With the amount of arsenic she's seasoned this concoction with, they would probably die instantaneously. So that's always a way out of this. But no, Merrin does know at least one happy love story—at least, happy so far. ]
Very well. I can tell you the story of two people who met as enemies, but became friends and then lovers. Would that satisfy you?
[ According to the spirits, yes, that would. ]
no subject
Maybe eating it wouldn't be the worst option. [She's joking. In her so-dry-it's-hard-to-tell way. But listening to a stranger tell a love story while trying not to think about the fact that she might never see Nate again? Only just better than eating arsenic and bat wing stew.]
no subject
I will make it short. For seasoning. [ She's being cheeky, though her tone is entirely deadpan—she has a very similar so-dry-it's-hard-to-tell sense of humor. ]
When these two people first met, the young woman attacked the young man on sight, as their peoples had a long history of opposing each other. But he showed kindness and acceptance in the face of her anger, and they soon discovered they had much in common.
[ Her expression softens, turning almost wistful, as she continues: ] He showed her a path forward. It changed the young woman's life.
From there, they traveled together for many years as friends, though his people's teachings prevented him from seeking anything more. [ A beat, and then, wryly: ] For a time. They parted for many years as well, and when they came together again they found love. So their story continues.
I. The Terrace
That sucked.... [She's quick to pick herself up.]
You hear the scream, too?
no subject
Yeah. You okay, kid? [She'll get back to running, just as soon as she makes sure that fall didn't cause any injures.]
no subject
It came from over there. Come on. [And she just takes off running.]
ii. zariiiiiiiiiii
Does it need to be a real one?
[Because she's got an option for that, but she also has played the Girl in her fair share of romcoms when she was coming up that she could borrow from.]