the channeling

[groundrules]

THE CHANNELING

---

Image source.

WEALTH WHISPERS

Assignment: the Merchant fears that Matthias, alleged father of the undead Brotherhood, might be the ‘merchant’ who was due to receive dark water-infused grains by sea from the Hand. Chasing information, the Merchant routes party members towards the docks-side underworld district of Tibras, in the outskirts of Ephes. The Hand keeps grain warehouses nearby.

In Tibras, short and decayed houses are like parasitic growths toppling each other, plaster peels falling into rivulets of bloodshed. Tension thrives. Petrified, natives overwhelmingly number beggars, pleasure workers, crude bounty hunters and thieves, who look to cut throats or purse strings. Occasional bodies drift by the docks.

■ Just outside of Tibras is the abode of the merchants’ syndicate — a ring of warehouses, private clubs and houses of currency. Merchants here are protected via steep fees and travel freely. Inside the syndicate house, doorways are barred by inextinguishable living fire — which you can cross unharmed, if you rearrange the runes marked N, W, S, E on a nearby wall in a cardinal-point formation. You can also pretend to be a servant, a merchant or quality inspector to get to the Hand warehouses. Ask a clue.

Alternatively, the Merchant forewarns that a notable guest will join the syndicate for three nights: Captain Maximilian Hawk of the Dawn’s Reach Trade Company, which deals in magical artefacts. Hold him at knifepoint, seduce him, do your worst for knowledge!

■ By the entrance to Tibras is the shop of Apollonius, noted collector of supernatural artefacts and information broker. Crafty and sly, he will cooperate, in exchange for a pair of ‘eyes’ from the ghost Tykhe, who haunts the nearby anonymous burial grounds. Come midnight, Tykhe’s spirit — whose sight was gouged — appears and picks out and bewitches a pair of marbles, buttons or stones to act as her ‘eyes.’ With them in hand, she searches the graveyard for her dead sister, Cassandra. You can steal the orbs, or she’ll give them freely, if you escort her from tomb to tomb to reunite with the mute ghost of Cassandra. Return to Apollonius.

■ Deeper within Tibras is a gambling nest of sailors who were cursed by a scorned sea witch to assume the appearance of sea creatures. Led by the giant octopus Crassus, they charge protection fees from commercial merchant ships and even intimidate pirates, gleaning information from sailors and recovering drowned bodies. This illustrious group adores games of chance — as long as you can cover your losses.

You can decide or RNG how many tries it takes for your character to win — submit a finished thread to get a question! The higher the stakes, the better the information.

— a scantly informed junior goldfish throws dice. Lose, and you must share a highly embarrassing secret.

— a moderately informed catfish, offering Baccarat. Lose, and he steals your good luck for 24 hours.

— a composed, well-informed whale plays roulette. Lose, and you must share one of your most precious memories.

— a highly-knowledgeable shark, Aurelius Longus, plays a mean hand of poker. Lose, and he asks blood or a pledge to save his life one day.

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THE FLOORS

Senate leader Caius Justus exits his seclusion, ending weeks of prayer to convey the message of Ephes’ divine patron, the Chained God of chaos. And he says in a public speech:

Friends, Ephesians, countrymen…

”Friends, Ephesians, countrymen, lend me your ears. I come to speak for the Chained Father, not to praise him. The victory men reap lives after them; but cowardice is often buried with their bones. So let it be with Ephes. The noble Senate tells you, the Chained Father wishes only Ephes’ destruction. If it were so, it is a grievous fault, and grievously has the Father answered for it. Here, under leave of Messalina and the Senate – for Messalina is an honourable speaker; so they are all, all honourable speakers – come I to speak of the Chained Father’s wishes. He was my maker, faithful and just to us: but Messalina says, turn away from him. And Messalina is an honourable speaker. He has brought many territories under the heel of Ephes. In his name did the Hand rise: did this in the Chained Father seem unworthy? When now you weep asking empire, the Chained Father answers: tells you to be made of sterner stuff. Yet Messalina says the Father is unworthy. And Messalina is an honourable speaker. You all did see that I withdrew to his temple, where he spoke to me: Ephes, seize your path alone — was that unworthy? Yet Messalina says to turn away from him. And sure, Messalina is an honourable speak. I speak not to disprove what Messalina spoke, but here I am to speak what I do know: you are all children of Chaos, not without cause. What cause withholds you, then, to use the Hand yourselves? O, ambition! You have fled to brutish citadels. And men have lost their courage. Bear with me: my heart is in the temple, there with the Chained God, and I must pause and beg the Senate to vote against Messalina, til it comes back to me. ”

Returning to public life, Caius Justus advises the Senate to refuse Messalina’s proposal, but defers to a vote. Citing recent civil unrest, he imposes citadel-wide 10 p.m. curfews, bans congregations of more than eight people in the streets and sends the Hand to confiscate any visible weapons and to quiet or pre-empt unrest. Hand members — forced to present in large numbers — appear erratic, prone to violent outbursts and to taking out their anger on civilians. Hand leader Narula is excessively smug.

Newscasters are careful with their words, speeches decrying Messalina abound, and senators are‘escorted’ by Hand delegations, also for their protection. Caius Justus announces he will run again for Senate leadership — to begrudged murmurs among Senators, given his previous pledge to retire.

Assignment: lure Senators toward the position that the party supports. After Caius Justus’ return:

■ 51 Senators back Caius Justus to refuse Messalina’s proposal.

■ Maximus Faustus convinces 53 Senators to accept Messalina’s proposal

■ Caelius Silvanus persuades 47 Senators to vote to postpone a decision on Messalina’s proposal for another season.

Following the party’s previous interventions, Senators are open to considering Messalina’s cause. Many are skittish, fearing their careers or lives will end with disobeying Caius Justus. Optionally, party members previously assigned a political role might receive threats from Caius Justus’ supporters.

■ Persuade, bribe, threaten or blackmail a minor Senator to switch votes. Perhaps you can offer coin or rally supporters in the marketplace for their next election, or heal their donkey or get rid of that pesky boy mooning after their daughter. Or maybe prove their corruption streak, or place a polite knife at their throats. Hold the whole Senate floor hostage, if you want, of blockade Senators from entering the Senate on voting day!

■ Ask for a RNGed Senator if you want or submit threads of swaying votes. A final tally will be taken on 19 November

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INCENSE

Priests of the Chained God whisper that the god shows signs of awakening to trigger an apocalypse. Chained and warded twelve times to prevent the end of the world, the Chained God allegedly rests in the Halls of the Sleeper, in the underground belly of his main temple in Ephes. Above ground, the temple is silent, rife with milling priests, hummed prayers and cloying hallucinogenic incense that encourages lethargy. Access is unrestricted, but monitored.

To progress downstairs, you may need to convince guards that you are one of the groups of ferociously devout pilgrim worshippers, or a priest. Below, you feel overcome by creeping, paralysing dread.

■ You are haunted by sinister, saccharine voices murmuring intrusive thoughts only you hear, diminishing your worth and paranoically asking if your companion means you harm. You are more irritable and prone to violence.

■ The halls increasingly resemble narrow subterranean corridors with limited and overheated air reserves. You reach locked stone gates, covered in loose chains and crudely carved with the inscription, the Sleeper awakes. Instructions state the Chained God demands sacrifice and proof of chaos.

■ To enter the Sleeper’s Hall, instructions say, you must commit an act of betrayal, by: drawing your companion’s blood and smearing it over the inscription (lean into the corruption!), which prevents them from entering the halls with you; or chaining them to the door with the gate shackles, condemning them to watch as you enter; or pushing your companion away, verbally eviscerating or attacking them until they flee. With player approval, your character could get a sense of what theirs is emotionally or physically vulnerable to, then exploit it. Acts of betrayal cannot be faked.

■ The Sleeper’s Hall is narrow, nearly spherical and lit by thin rivers of flowing magma that cross cracked floors. Amid swelter, you hear the periodic gulps and quakes of stone trembling around you. The supernaturally sensitive feel the presence of great, if constrained power.

■ The black water previously associated with the undead also gushes from rifts in the ground. It has a cold, sinister aura.

■ Search the room for clues — and leave urgently, before corruption consumes you.

■ Towards the middle of the room is a large, nebulously shaped creature, fully fettered and covered in magical wards, chains and blood-painted runes. Anyone in the Chained God’s presence may feel overcome by emotional or physical agony, claustrophobia and bloodlust — but the divinity only speaks with the RNG winner.

Image source.

NOTES:

■ Some players have asked about potentially stabbing ousting Caius Justus and Narula in a coup — everyone can plot and participate in that, and a plotting post will go up on 16 November.

■ NPC inbox, if you need anyone!

■ QUESTIONS

Comments

QUESTIONS

[groundrules]

Divorce rate is 32.46% lower among couples who stab Caesar together.

[weifinder]

Okay but how are the resentful energies of the people killed around the city feeling about being called to the Senate Floor to make their feelings non-lethally known before the voting day? Asking for a friend. That friend is me.

I'll take the bodied dead too, I just have no idea where the ones he directed away from the arena ended up, and he'd hope to be able to you know. Send them on. But, you know. Traumatic deaths and all!

[reparo]

For fish gambles, if someone lost and needed to confess to an embarrassing secret - can it be situational? Maybe not that shameful as it is awkward for the two people present, for example?

🤥 in memory of captain usopp

[serio]

Losing @ Roulette -- are they somehow compelled to tell the truth or can it be a lie? And if it's a lie, can they get away with a tall tale or will the well-informed whale know?

[inferus]

Last event Wrath took some of the water from the rattling (arena) where it was super powerful in a jar to study later/when it was safer/could probably ward the place where he was experimenting. Is there anything additional that can be learned from that water by studying it? Does it lose some of its potency over time now that it's away from the hand/the rest of the dark water? He would try probably putting a drop on this shard he received back in the day, etc.

[blackscales]

If someone is, say, betrayed, and gets upset about it while locked out thus starts... acting out in the temple... smashing up statues(?)/nice floor tiles(?)/the gate ineffectually because they're locked out/I guess upsetting a guard, are they gonna get the Whole Temple on them? I cannot visualise how far away the gates/entrance is from the guards/rest of the temple, and thus how quickly a temper tantrum would draw attention and how intense it would be!

[daughterheir]

Like Wrath, Elayne also took a sample of the dark water for experimentation purposes (she got hers from the baths with the spooky mirror). Would trying to do the magical equivalent of pushing it through a coffee filter over and over again to "purify" it have any effect?

Also, if she pulled apart her pendant, would she be able to figure out its inner workings? And would she be able to put it back together and make it work again lol

CLUES AND TURN-INS

[groundrules]

Senatorial unrest is more like a side hustle.

THE SYNDICATE

[groundrules]

Turn in a completed thread of successfully entering a grain warehouse or the syndicate house by 23:59 GMT on 13 November, to receive one clue. You'll have to communicate the clue with the party at large by the end of the event (23:59 GMT on 17 November), after!

You only need to have completed the part of the thread dealing with entering either of the two infiltration sites, by the time of your submission.

Please choose if you have a preference between a clue about the grains, the Hand or Matthias.

MAXIMILIAN HAWK

[groundrules]

Turn in a completed thread of successfully encountering, capturing, seducing, so on, Captain Maximilian Hawk by 23:59 GMT on 13 November, to get one question per thread participant. You can have clarifications, but no follow-ups! You'll have to communicate any substantial information with the party at large by the end of the event (23:59 GMT on 17 November), after!

You only need to have completed the part of the thread dealing with capturing the attention of Maximilian Hawk, by the time of your submission.

APOLLONIUS

[groundrules]

Turn in a completed thread of successfully getting the 'eyes' of Tykhe for Apollonius by 23:59 GMT on 13 November, to get one question per thread participant. You can have clarifications, but no follow-ups! You'll have to communicate any substantial information with the party at large by the end of the event (23:59 GMT on 17 November), after!

You only need to have completed the part of the thread dealing with capturing the eyes, by the time of your submission.

hermione granger (harry potter)

[reparo]

[ooc; some thread starters follow below! pick your favourite and turn in a profit - or be a rebel and start a new thread to throw in a wild card. hermione would be participating in wealth whispers and be involved in incense (wild sentence to write without any capitalisation but i'm going for it) so there's no limit for those options. /slaps the hood - it's amazing how much betrayal you can fit in this baby. just assume she goes around during the limited time /fingerguns]

1. wealth whispers: what's a place like this doing in a girl like you?

[reparo]

That's vile. [ It should be a more discrete whisper, but it isn't. Muttered under her breath as she steps over the bloodied streets of Tibras, the sound still carries. Her attire blends in just fine, makes her blend in with the servant girls she's seen walking in the atriums of some of the wealthier houses of Ephes, all simple tunic and a palla that is the very definition of functional and durable. In fact, with it covering her hair and with her hand holding the fabric up to cover her nose from the stench, she is virtually undistinguishable.

Except, of course, for the glint of a talisman, and the peak of a few rebel curls for anyone who'd be asking. There are some places where peanut sellers don't need to go, and the Merchants' guild is one of them. Yet, here she is, on her own (for now, heyyyy), daintly hopping over a cobblestone that looks precarious and looking for warehouses. ]

nynaeve al'meara | the wheel of time (amazon series)

[mashiara]

at night, she seeks

( Nynaeve stood, feet planted firmly, eyes glancing over the expanse of the burial grounds. The make of it lies as unfamiliar as so much of this world, but not the intent; the poverty something understood from exposure, but no less pleasing, to see these markers for those passed and how many lie under recently disturbed dirt.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone has clawed back up, if the dark water has found fertile grounds here. She shoves those thoughts to the side. One task at a time. They need information, and by the Light, if it means dealing with more ghosts, so be it.

She breathes in, and out, tense in her waiting, forehead just shy of furrowing in the perpetual concern and frustration she seemed to exist within. The night stretches late, and cold, and the city fails to heal, and there are better things for her to do, but not more important ones for their ends in this particular moment. That frustrates as well, and she breathes out, sharp. She's not a woman for inaction.

Thus it is in the moment that the ghost begins to coalesce, moments of mist gathering to form among the tumbled stones and faded wood and hidden cairns below, the obvious ones low and visible above, Nynaeve straightens, and steps forward. Steps careful, but with firm purpose, along the avenues of the dead, while the sightless ghost pats her hands around, searching for something, mumbling about...

Right. Eyes. Whatever galls her in the vision of those blackened, ghostly sockets is swallowed down as her lips twitch in their frown. Nynaeve digs into her pocket, holding out one round stone, the second spilling out onto the ground, disliking and accepting this absurdity from the way Apollonius had smugly spoken, the words she'd later exchanged with the people who lived near the graveyard itself. Of a ghost who searches, first for eyes, then for something else, and how most would prefer to leave her to her hauntings, contained as they are. )

Tykhe.

( Nynaeve looks to her companion, holding out her other hand, expectant. The round stone that fell from her pocket and rolled toward them glints pale against the sepulchral ground beneath them. )

Will these help?

( ooc: hit me up here for a wildcard and i'll spin us a scenario! you're also welcome to wildcard in for me with any prompt you like, nynaeve is only going to be extremely bad if you need help swaying a senator and browbeating or intimidation isn't the way to do it, whoops )

[stomacles]

( Well, this is a major switch for Ben. After being a ghost for seventeen years, he does feel some sympathy for the one that wanders around them, but he can't deny there's a satisfaction that fills him when Nynaeve holds out the round stone. )

( His eyes widen when the other rolls away. )

You're a life saver. ( He whispers the words, then lowers himself to carefully, but quickly, grab for the other one. )

( Ben stops and smiles as he looks at Nynaeve, again. She's pretty, he muses, but is wise enough to keep that to himself. This isn't the time, or the place. And they did just meet. )

( Ducked away, he doesn't feel comfortable with the idea of the ghost managing to find him, even if they have its eyes, he speaks again, in a whisper. )

How do you want to do this? I don't know if that thing is going to be happy, or have an easier time finding us to gut us.

licyn mansbane | original

[bravelyrunsaway]

time to be a wingman

( Licyn nudged his companion, tipping his head in the direction of a certain Captain Maximilian Hawk. What lovely memories he has, of the Dawn's Reach Company, and not a lick of them on his face as he smiles and winks. )

What are your thoughts on pillow talk, love?

time to sway some senators

On second thought, ( Licyn says, adjusting his toga with what he hopes is a rakish grin, and what rather is, only he's feeling like he's been dropped back into hot water and no one bothered checking if he could swim ) maybe it was a touch ambitious to propose attending a... what is this called?

( he gestures to the courtyard and garden around them, the gathering at the cusp of dusk where they're meant to intercept and prevent some minor senator's daughter from making free with some other minor senator's daughter. It's tedious, but in no sense does he want anything he's heard of the Hand or its head to be leading the politics around here. Why not sway a vote in Messalina's favour? Slow down the dead in whatever way works for long enough they can get out the Gateway and let the Storms take what remains?

Pardon him. He's displeased at finding himself here again, only he doesn't remember leaving, and the span of missing time is deeply unsettling now that he's not attempting to get laid in the mercantile parts of town. )

A garden party?

( ooc: i'm happy for wildcards in, or being asked for a wildcard! if you want me to write one for us, just comment with "wildcard" in subject line and leave the comment blank, and i'll invent a scenario for us. feel free to leave suggestions in comment if you want! )

time to be a wingman

[traumatology]

Generally don't even try it.

( because he sucks at it now. in the past, it might have been a different story but now. he shakes his head and shrugs. )

What's the point of it? Gets in the way of the action, doesn't it?

wei wuxian | the untamed

[weifinder]

poker face

( He's been observing the games, not so much at the shark man's table as at others, learning the rules and finding it fun, not in spite of himself so much as in addition to knowing part of him will always like playing against chance. Defying odds. Attempting impossibilities.

There's something to be said in how one is raised.

So before he settles in at Aurelius Longus' table, looking more the light hearted, easy going man he once was in most truth, his smile is all good humour and sharp edges, he asks his companion conversationally: )

How directly do you think he claims his blood price?

( ooc note: Wei Wuxian will lose two hands before he wins one, so be forewarned about blood and also me remembering anything about poker — )

mash betray

( He studies the stone gates when they reach them, irritation curled under his skin, creeping towards his shoulders, up his back. He breathes with it, blinks through the pressure building in his chest. Reads the inscription, and the instruction, and laughs, low and amused and then utterly without amusement, reaching out to tap one fingernail over the instructions. )

I'm told I excel at both. Should I test that?

( He cants his head, offers his companion an easier smile. There are jests buried within these kinds of stilted circumstances, and he's already sighing at the thought of them, as the irritation bubbles and boils and settles again poorly under his skin by force of habit and of will. When the paranoia tries to whisper about intended harm, he can only accept it. Has known it. Doesn't believe it. One doesn't need the trappings of chains and stone gateways and carved recesses like this to know that betrayal, that temporary truces, are as situational as the weather is willful in the summer seasons where he grew up.

He steps toward the shackles, the chains, and runs fingers over the metal links, considering. The ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he muses: )

Poor craftsmanship. You'd think if they were going to have decorative chains, they'd bother making them look more impressive.

( ooc note ii: Wei Wuxian should be the one left outside, either because he'll sacrifice himself (chained to the door, his blood across the words) or your character beats him to his own worst tendencies! I'm happy for whatever amuses you.)

( ooc note iii: i'm also happy for wildcard tag ins for anything, or for people to tag saying they'd like me to write up a custom starter! just say wildcard in subjectline and leave the comment empty, and i'll write us up something unique. )

'Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin

[nothinglikefather]

[ Aside from the folk hosting the games, this is very much like home. The pubs Jacob used to frequent both dockside and in Whitechapel were not so different, with people spending more than they had, hoping they'd win big, laughing as their lives were stolen from them penny by penny.

Maybe the cost is higher here and now, secrets and blood in exchange for information and hope. He doesn't know if it's going to be worth it, but it's got to be worth a try. He's given enough blood for less in the past.

And besides, there's at least a familiar face at the table, the man from the Arena. The Necromancer. He's not sure if they're on the same side in all of this, but he at least thinks the man is probably not about to sabotage him.]

I don't think they run a tab, if that's what you mean.

lan wangji | the untamed

[downswing]

( ooc: if the below don't work, also open to wildcards or to putting up more scenarios, just shout o/ )

wealth whispers → ghost eyes

[downswing]

( Dark thoughts and dark nights and dark wings. He walks at midnight hours with ravens and the venal assignment of a merchant he intends to deprive of teeth and possessions, after their deed here is done. Master Apollonius is not long for his collection: the dead will welcome their trinkets and fortunes returned.

But first, the woman Tykhe: a miasma of spiritual energy and slivers of memory and self-awareness, coalesced into a shape men recognise as ‘ghosts.’ She is nebulous tonight, barely coagulated, her features indistinct, rags trailing. At each of her steps, stones and weeds part, the earth recoils from her. At long last, she makes her choice: wooden carved acorns picked off the ground, cracked and hastily painted in cheap whites, the kind that children of Ephes roll and turn at the marketplace — perhaps forgotten by a son or daughter visiting a buried relation.

She clutches them in her hand, satisfied by their rustling, their crackling, the scratched whine of their collision. They seem, in small part, to direct her, helping her avoid the easy entrapments of obstacles on the road. First, she is immune to Lan Wangji’s greeting — then, only accepts him long enough to ask after her sister, Cassandra.

He knows nothing. Offers less than to guide and safeguard her. And to his company, voice strangled: )

We shall not thieve from her. ( This, apparently, unilaterally decided. Then, to Tykhe: ) Woman, where did you last greet your sister?

( Come, then. Let them escort this spirit to her sibling. )

mo ran | husky and his white cat shizun

[inkfire]

i. incense: the betrayal

[ He dons white for this task. Plain, serviceable, simple. The robes make him think of death, of Chu Wanning, of the five years he wandered after Chu Wanning's death and rebirth, when he adopted the robes of his former mentor.

When he approaches the temple, he keeps his head lowered, masks his gait into something simple and humble. The incense burns his nose, and he recoils briefly. Reconsiders, thoughts evident in his eyes. It's strong enough that he thinks back to the pleasure house and the girls he knew, the one he was trapped with—

You killed her. Had she not befriended you, she would have been fine. They would have left her alone. You killed her, just like you killed your shizun.

"Shut up," he snaps under his breath, and then closes his eyes, realizing he just insulted his companion. Not what he wanted to do there. ]

Sorry. You can keep talking. [ a brief pause as he reconsiders. ]

Actually, just let me talk. To the priests. We're pilgrims, okay?

[ He's all hastily whispered words, and before his companion can protest, Mo Ran has an arm around them, guiding them toward one of the guards near the entrance to the Halls of the Sleeper.

He can play a devout pilgrim. Five years of penance taught him something. Mo Ran bows to the guard, more formal than necessary, and keeps it for a beat longer than he should. ]

This humble pilgrim and his companion seek entrance to pray to the Chained God. [ He doesn't know what he'd pray to this god for, but Mo Ran has long since abandoned any hope of his prayers being heard. There is no one less deserving of such things.

But he wants to face this god. They need to stop him from awakening, and Mo Ran can do that. He thinks.

Possibly. ]

Please, we humbly beg you.

[ A few more lines, begging and beseeching for entry, staying as humble as he can while doing so. He's good at it, managing to sound sincere and contrite as he speaks.

As though anything you do is humble, Taxian-jun. Emperor of the Cultivation world, begging for entrance to a temple. What a joke you've become.

He grits his teeth against the whispers, and dares to look at the guard, who looks listless, almost bored. He waves them in. ] Yeah, alright, you can go.

[ It feels too simple, but Mo Ran is not one to look too deeply at such things. He murmurs his thanks and then drags his companion to the entrance. The scent of incense chases them, close on their heels. ]

Did they give us a map?

ii. wildcard

[ I am happy to write other starters for other scenarios, if anyone is interested, and also personalized starters for anyone who wants a specific betrayal. Hit me up in the discord, via PM or plurk! ]

[downswing]

( ...the tragedy of this circus is this: the subterfuge works. There is in Mo Ran an abyssal capacity to carelessly play pretend with identities, mannerisms, his own person. As if each day he settles a fresh face upon his bones and stretches out its stitches, breaks in its folds.

They pass the guards, largely unscathed — but for Lan Wangji's pride, increasingly chipped down to resemble either a miniature of underwater territory. No matter. He shrugs off all attempts at intimacy or proximity, only too glad to entertain a politely distant worship of the Chained God.

Together, trotting through temple halls so disgustingly overfilled by incense that he tastes the sweet, waxy print of them, in the back of his mouth, and his skin feels oiled with mattified ashes. Irritation wells and bursts with every step they take below. )

Who is Mo Weiyu to touch me freely?

( Sir, and Lan Wangji, a man wedded on multiple occasions, how very dare you, the nerve, the audacity, the horror of your lice and fleas, sir, they come in a crowd, paying no rent, filthy good-for-nothings, the real estate of Lan Wangji's shoulders will never be so well valued again — )

caitlyn kiramman | arcane

[clavesregni]

i. wealth whispers | doing crimes

[Past experience has taught Caitlyn that she's not very skilled at going undercover, and that she's even worse at seducing men. So there are only two options if she wants to speak with Maximilian Hawk: break in undetected, or present herself at the front door and demand to see him.

She's in full Hand uniform with a forged letter from Narula stating that she is to have access to the premises on Hand business. Whether that will work or not, she's not sure. But there's only one way to find out.

She takes a deep breath and, with the stiff posture of someone who knows they're doing something wrong and would very much like everyone to avoid noticing them, approaches the door.]


ii. wealth whispers | gambling

[How Caitlyn ended up here, in a seedy den of iniquity, playing a game she doesn't entirely understand the rules of against a whale wearing a hat, even she herself isn't quite sure. She's doing her best to follow a trail of information, and it has, unfortunately, led her here.

She misses Vi every day, but never quite so much as when she's in a situation like this. Everything about her screams 'rich girl that accidentally wandered off the beaten path' and without someone more savvy watching her back, everyone in this place is eyeing her like she's a walking bag of money just waiting to be robbed.]

Red?

[She's never seen a whale roll its eyes before.

She turns to the person next to her and asks quietly,] Do I need to bet on a specific number?


iii. incense

[Can you trust them? You trust too easily. She can almost feel the voice clawing its way through her mind, tendrils under her skull, squeezing, a headache waiting to happen. Trust kills.

Heart in her throat, gut clenching, Caitlyn continues downward, far too aware of the weight of her rifle, snugly concealed in its case, against her back as she watches her companion walk ahead of her.]

It can't be much farther to walk.

[Her voice echoes uncomfortably off the stone.

How much farther until they stab you in the back? a voice whispers inside her head.]


iv. wildcard

[Feel free to wildcard me! If you'd like to plot, my plotting comment is here.]c

gambling, because two disasters

[downswing]

( Behold, one neophyte asking a veteran of undiscriminating ignorance of any civilian life skill. It is not that Lan Wangji stands no chance at the gambling table, precisely — only that that 0.0000000001% takes its time to gently toll around.

Stupefied, still and largely silent in the seat beside Caitlyn, he has lost the better part of his dignity and pride to half of Tibras' fish population this evening. What's the last few dregs more for the gossamer chance of reaping critical information?

And so, leaning in to study the whirling roulette, then the whale who seems on the brink of expiring from excess exposure to the toxin of their combined stupidity, he chances... )

...no? ( 'Noooo~ooooo~oooooo~ooooo' is somehow even more pathetic in whale. )

elayne trakand | wheel of time

[daughterheir]

i. wealth whispers

[Elayne approaches the outskirts of Tibras clad in the simplest garb she could find, no bright colours or fine cuts to draw attention. Though her bearing is unmistakably that of the nobility, she stays quiet, keeps her eyes down, moves around anyone she encounters, doing at least a passable job at being unobtrusive. A young woman capable of channeling has all sorts of options to break into a secure building, but the easiest, she thinks, will be disguising herself as a servant. Not many people notice servants, after all. They're as invisible as the furniture, to some.

Once she arrives at her destination, she peers cautiously around the corner towards the door. Guarded, of course. Only by one man. She could deal with him, if it came to a confrontation. Hopefully it won't.

She approaches the door.]


ii. the floors

[Rumor has it that Senator Quintus Aurelius has been accepting bribes in exchange for his votes. If Elayne can obtain proof, it shouldn't be difficult to leverage his vote.

Quintus is hosting a little party this evening - an uninteresting affair, full of people who don't seem to know the first thing about ruling or care for it beyond how much money it can make them. Not at all the sorts of people who spent hours memorizing the characteristics of each region of their realms. Still, Elayne moves through it with relative ease, until she finds her opening to slip away towards Quintus' private quarters.

This is where the ease stops: a locked door.

She probably should have seen this coming. But in her defense, she's never broken into anyone's private quarters to rifle through their financial documents before.]


iii. incense

Keep your head down. Don't draw attention to us. [She doesn't wait for her companion to keep up, walking purposefully past groups of priests and guards towards the hallways leading downwards.

Why should anyone listen to what you say?

Elayne stops, glancing around for any possible culprit. But there's no one near enough to have whispered in her ear.]

Did you hear that?


iv. wildcard

[Feel free to wildcard me! If you'd like to plot, my plotting comment is here.]

iii. incense

[silverneedles]

[ Once, Wen Qing existed in a world where she had to keep her head down. Wore garments of coarse cloth, a hood to cover her face, begging on the streets of a city she barely knew to stay alive long enough to find her brother. She is familiar with what it means to blend in, to pass unnoticed among many— even sharp eyes do not wish to see the impoverished and the downtrodden.

It helps, in this, because Wen Qing and her companion manage to pass unaware through the guards and the pilgrims. Wen Qing can see the entrance, they're almost there— and her companion stops.

She closes her eyes, trying to find the cool, rational head that kept her alive through her uncle's madness and kept her out of the hands of the Jin. It's incredibly difficult, and her tone is sharper than intended when she speaks. ]

I heard nothing. Keep walking.

nami (opla)

[cartographie]

[ open & closed starts below. wildcards welcome or reach out via plurk or dm if you'd like to plot out something. ]

– long time no see (wealth whispers, ota)

[cartographie]

[ Getting people drunk and talking is easy here like it is back home. After finding out the finer points of the specter’s haunt from one loose-lipped tavern patron, she’s left bait for the spirit by way of two round smooth white stones left waiting inconspicuously on a windowsill on one of the side streets she’s been told the ghost will drift down.

Ever the burglar, Nami knows how to keep herself out of sight while she waits, able to keep the gasp that threatens caught in the back of her throat when the ghost actually appears, leaving her floored. It’s one thing to wait for a ghost, it’s another thing for that ghost to show up and be a ghost, rather than someone trying to pull a fast one in disguise. She would have believed the latter, but being hit with the former is a whole new level of weirdness, and suddenly the instructions she’s supposed to follow to get those stones back from the ghost and trade them seems a lot more spooky.

Why couldn’t it have been just a random eccentric in a very good costume?

She doesn’t want to, but Nami makes herself follow the ghost, keeping a careful distance through the entrance of the graveyard. The sight of someone else who seems to also be in pursuit of Tykhe is almost as startling as the spirit herself, and though it throws her enough to make her halt in her tracks, briefly letting Tykhe float ahead as she holds a finger to her lips, not daring to disrupt the ghost’s quiet. Instead, she waves the other person over, jerking her head in the direction Tykhe floated off in, in a wordless indication they should follow. Two heads are better than one, and hell - maybe company will make this whole ordeal less creepy. ]

natasha romanova | marvel cinematic.

[redhourglass]

( open & closed starters below, i have a plotting comment up with some ideas, but also generally ota! feel free to hit me in the discord or iothe if you wanna talk through anything. )

wealth whispers: the syndicate's version (ota!)

[redhourglass]

( truthfully, it's a relief to get back to something she knows. infiltration. recon. information gathering in a context where she won't immediately be noticed. sneaking into the syndicate isn't going to be easy by any stretch, but it's hardly the worst place she's had to infiltrate. it's easy enough to steal servant's clothing off a washing line behind a brothel, stashing her clothes in the top of a barrel for later. glancing over at her partner (not her choice, but not not her choice), she gives them a onceover. )

You sure you want to wear that?

( no judgment! well. a little judgment, but hey. it's their funeral, or not. )

yelena belova | mcu

[vdovy]

WEALTH WHISPERS

BURIAL GROUNDS

[ Tonight, Tykhe's eyes take the form of a pair of water-smoothed river rocks. They are still wet, dripping like the ghost's own fallen tears, and Yelena tracks her by the sound of fat freshwater droplets hitting the ground.

Theft was her original intent, hence the distance she keeps, scoping out her mark. But the more she sees of Tykhe, the more uneasy she feels about leaving the spirit to blindly roam these haunted grounds. By the time she finally puts together what— or rather who— Tykhe seeks, Yelena is invested. Nothing like a dead sister to pull at the heartstrings.

She starts to rise, ready to approach the ghost and offer assistance, when the sound of leaves crunching under footsteps alerts her to a new presence. Reluctantly, Yelena turns her back on the ghost to assess the newcomer. Hopefully it is another member of her party and not someone she'll have to compete with for the eyes. Some competition might be fun, but it would likely come at the expense of helping Tykhe. ]

GAMBLING NEST

[ Yelena has her sights on the poker table, already making her way in that direction when the idea strikes. It's risky, but if the stakes are proportional to the reward, the other games would pale in comparison.

She takes her seat as cards are being shuffled for a new game and produces her gun, setting it down on the tabletop before her. ]

Have you ever played Russian roulette?

WILDCARD

[ OOC: Choose your own adventure! Yelena has a healthy allowance to be spent on bribes or other things, feel free to seek her out for funding. Reach out with any ideas/questions/etc. via PM or cosmology. ]

burial grounds

[weifinder]

( Sure, he could have stepped into this with a different mindset. Spirits, ghosts, the dead: he's uniquely adapted to speaking with them, coaxing them, commanding. Yet he knows also the pull of it grows too strong; he knows the value of respect for the dead, and this is a case that's puzzled him the way all good mysteries do. He seeks to understand, not to simply make it expedient and simply, and thus he nods to Yelena, tapping a finger against the flute in his waistband, then letting his hand fall away. )

What are you inclined toward, facing her plight?

( He too, not a person who can resist the binds of family; he too more curious as to why Appololol or whatever his name might be wants this bounty from a dead woman, a spirit that doesn't know how to let go.

He wonders if it's more worthwhile to seek a way of amending that hold, if Tykhe would wish it. Not every ghost does, and that grows dangerous, suspecting that yet again, the behemoths of the deathless lords approach, ready to consume. He remembers what one burst of Anurr's sweeping power managed; what the Huntress had managed, in her ride through Taravast, her husband in swift pursuit.

What Matthias might evoke, what Messalina might find reasonable, given only the time to move.

So he studies a ghostly sister, in search of the eyes she doesn't have, and his eyes don't leave her transparent form, considering. )

Wrathion | Warcraft

[blackscales]

[ I'm late with starbucks: hit me up via PM or here! ]

INCENSE > ANDUIN

[blackscales]

"Based on past experience, a god of any kind who has been chained starting to awaken seems an unpleasant prospect."

Wrathion looks up at the temple, considering their options, then sideways at Anduin. Normally he wouldn't entertain dragging him into any espionage, but Anduin is a priest after all. If anyone can help them infiltrate to learn more, he is the man for it. Wrathion can play at devout, to a point, but Anduin would be better placed to give it the touch of realism they need.

"The rumour is, the Chained God is underneath this temple. I'd like to take a look, see if there's any truth in it."

He does have experience with ancient, violent entities after all. Surely he's well placed to make an assessment on the danger they might be in?

Assuming they can talk their way through.

Buggy the Clown | OPLA

[theflashyfool]

[open and closed prompts below.]

wealth whispers; taking a gamble (ota)

[theflashyfool]

[If there's a twist of disgust to Buggy's lips, it's brief and he tries to hide it. It's mostly pesky memories from back home, sitting like a bad itch at the back of his mind that he can't quite sweep away. He's not a new pirate by any means. He's seen plenty of horrors in his days, plenty of callousness (a lot of which he's likely dealt out), but there's something about the way Arlong went about it that left its mark.

And there's something about these fish people that irritate the piss out of him. But he's a practical clown by all means, and he's got his sights on the big guns, so to speak.]

Aurelius Longus? Are we for real right now? [He mutters under his breath, eyes rolling. Fucking shark. Fucking fish people. Fucking-- whatever this place is.

His arms cross over his chest and he taps a finger idly against his own arm as he seems to sit by and watch for a moment. The guy is asking for a steep bet, but honestly... Buggy is all over confidence and sure he can probably weasel his way out if he loses. He's good at that.]

Sanji | OPLA

[legsbenedict]

[ Prompts below. Wildcards welcome, reach out via pm or at oopsallsadboys to brainstorm something! ]

The Floors | A Delicacy of Distraction

[legsbenedict]

[ While there's not much he can offer by way of swaying a vote, he can get behind a larger front distracting the Senators long enough to miss their vote. It's all the same, really. If the dining hall is guarded by a few of their own to assure no one with a vote leaves? Well, it's probably unwise to let them vote so soon after eating. They're just looking out for the Senators' collective safety. Yep.

Sanji's part in it doesn't feel so out of the ordinary as he prepares and lays out a feast varried enough to distract a handful of Senators. Or one very hungry pirate captain. Trays of fruit tarts, small pastries filled with dates and nuts, and some lighter appetizers are set to go out as he meticulously garnishes some of the tarts with small flowers or a sprig of thyme. Even if it goes unappreciated by most, he can't very well send out food that doesn't look as appealing as it tastes.

Glancing briefly away from his work, he nods in greeting, gesturing to the spread he has yet to send out. ]

Help yourself, just tell me what you think.