the channeling

[groundrules]

THE CHANNELING

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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.

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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

[somebadnews]

[ His response hits him off-center, and Five barks out a laugh. It's true, he lost everyone in the world, but now those years don't mean anything. He doesn't even have his scars to prove they existed. ]

I erased it. Never happened. [ He'd only been making a point, though he's still tense when he looks back at the party inside. ] Although after this many times, it might be me. You avert one apocalypse, it tries to spite you everywhere you go.

[ He thinks about those simple days when he thought he'd save the world once and be done with it. How naive he was. ]

I think we've wasted a lot of time trying to convince them not to follow their egos. If this works, we'll need to make some choices.

[somebadnews]

[ Five lets her lead him to somewhere more discrete with only a slight frown. He doubts they'll come asking for a maid if they're doing what he assumes they're doing, but he can admit that she blends in... easier than he does. It's not as easy for him to find a uniform in his size. ]

If I knew the layout, I could get us in and out. [ His powers help him to be spatially aware, but he doesn't know how crowded it is. ] ...If they've already been in there for a while, it might be worth the risk.

You think you could talk your way out of it if they spot you inside?

[inkfire]

[ Ah, he was keeping track. Mo Ran scowls, but thinks back to his questions, quiet for a moment as he considers this. ]

Where does the water come from? What set it free?

[inkfire]

[ The air feels too hot, suffocating, and with that question, Mo Ran simply scowls and marches forward, ignoring Lan Wangi as much as possible— which isn't really possible, considering how close they are, physically.

Long, heavy strides don't do much in the sloped, rocky tunnels, and it weighs so heavily. Anger burns, and it doesn't need much fanning for Mo Ran. He's learned, over the years, to temper it, to use it for a purpose, but what's the point here, with this prissy man in white. ]

What do you care for my immortal soul? Do you have a number of good deeds you need to do daily to stay in your sect or something?

[ It wouldn't surprise him; people don't care about him out anything but duty. It's what he deserves, he knows, but still. ]

[silverneedles]

I am. [ Once they enter the library and Wen Qing catches sight of Nami's face and her distinctive red hair, she relaxes. At least this is someone familiar, one of her newer companions. ] Nami, was it? [ But of course it was, Wen Qing wouldn't forget that.

The library is at least unguarded and safe, and she can't hear any footsteps approaching, so Wen Qing looks through some of the books near the desk Nami is searching, all neatly organized, pausing every now and then to riffle through one if it seems interesting. ] We should. It would be much more efficient, especially with those mice of yours.

[ Wen Qing smiles at her, a rare, indulgent smile, and pretends she didn't see anything go into Nami's bag. She also slides a few more things— a small wooden tray and a box with ink sticks— her way. Just in case. She smirks, then makes a face as she flips through another book, a pamphlet falling out; it's crude pornography. Wen Qing picks it up. ]

I believe, Madame, they open it for the right sort of guests. [ She shoves the pamphlet back into the book, then reshelves the book. ] Or else we continue sneaking. I have no idea where he's staying, but it's not that large of a house. We can find him.

[blackscales]

"That does seem to be the Chained God's domain, chaos. A creature said to birth, consume, and birth the world again. A creature of war and violence."

Of chaos.

He moves further down the narrow halls, fingers flexing as he tries to close out the intrusion. They have no time for this, no time for whatever games this creature plays. Irritation runs over his skin, prickles at him. Has he not slain an Old God before? Who is this Chained God compared to N'Zoth the Corruptor? Wrathion is, surely, well versed on this topic. He should --

The narrow hallways turn again, ever heading downwards, and in the distance Wrathion spots something now: a doorway, of some description, seemingly covered in chains. He supposes they do have a theme.

The dragon glances back and upwards, listening for any followers, but it's just the two of them for now.

"Here," he prompts, and moves towards it. This must be what they seek, after all, there's no other path to take.

[weifinder]

( So goes another round; the shark man watching with unblinking eyes before he downs that first glass, and Wei Wuxian finds part of him relaxing. Too much can be done with blood. Still too much can, and too little is needed, but half this seems a power play.

He's used to those. Used to losing those, especially at outset.

As it turns, he loses the next one himself, repeating the drip drip drop of blood into the shotglass: perhaps his partner at the table has had better luck? )

[bravelyrunsaway]

( His one person campaign to make everyone uncomfortable with a lifetime speech pattern: he's scoring so many points for that one.

Licyn grimaces, hardly looking pleased by his own admission or whatever it is he feels. )

Unfortunately. An affliction, of a kind.

( The more his skin feels ready to peel off his frame and crawl away from him, the closer they draw to the strength of this event: let alone the emotions that tear at his heart without consideration for the cruelty of their play. )

Like whatever's burning down here. Who can breathe with this much incense? Horrid stuff.

[daughterheir]

Thanks to Nynaeve's very good punching, the wondergirls have gotten into a grain warehouse. May we get a clue about Matthias please?

[bravelyrunsaway]

( he laughs, waving his fingers at bucky even as he's turning away to redirect toward his captain of a target: )

Only when they're feeling honest.

( but it's exactly what he needed, the sigh he carries with him before he strikes up a flirtation with the captain, about warm beds and cold nights and the utter lack of concern of anything beyond the moment, beyond having fun. and how sad it is, in the end, to find so few willing for more than the dregs at the bottom of their mugs and bottles. far too little distraction, he says, don't you agree?

at whatever point it turns from licyn seeking to move away again, and the eventual turning back, when samuel at least looks more inclined to take offer from the man who acts like a laid back, licentious hound, and oh, but aren't there places to go? times to be had?

words to be muttered and whispered after whatever play the captain can tolerate, and those carried back after, when he does, eventually, track bucky down again, cleaned up but not bathed, and looking like a man well laid. or laying well. really much the same thing to him in the end. )

( ooc: i submitted out thread here, feel free to leave a question from bucky there, we can even go maybe they talked about it beforehand in a handwave. bank on someone's pillow talk skills!!! )

[bravelyrunsaway]

lmf how does seduction work in npc threads, but here is bucky helping turn down licyn so he can hit on maximilian

we got this we can invent the WORLD

[bravelyrunsaway]

( he grins, slow and lazy, eyes flicking past Five toward a group of younger men and women. )

Missed something. Months of time, so it seems.

( the brief darkening of his expression, the loss of his grin for a grimace. he doesn't understand it, but that had been true: gone, probably, because everyone tells him he was, and then here. no memory of time between. )

Either way, love, I'm here for sport, on the request of those involved in politics. Did you know the young woman is a jealous lover, and her fiancee persuadable?

( he seems far too relaxed in his toga, and now with his glazed clay cup in hand snatched from a serving tray passing by. none of them are planned to survive the night. such is the way of excess. )

Roaming eyes. Easy to spot those ones, if you know what to look for.

[daughterheir]

The Aes Sedai were flogging her and also they make their novices wash dirty dishes so Karsa's probably a step up from that at least??

[bravelyrunsaway]

The glance he gives her is a little wider eyed than he would like, if he felt more in control. He doesn't, and doesn't pretend to, but he does think they need to know slightly more about this Lightning-struck nonense, and so he's here.

His grimace shows teeth when he replies. "You don't feel that?"

The horrible, grating pressure of the magic that lingers below, that builds like pressure against his skin, leaving him feeling as if he'd rather climb out of his own than get closer to the source. Problems he only knows because of Wrath telling him in this world, his linking the reality of his own apparently excessive magical nature, and the interaction with magics around.

who needs words!

[somebadnews]

[ Five watches him carefully, at the expression he doesn't recognize from him. Licyn wouldn't be the first to return with no memory of leaving. If he even did. As long as he's been here, there's been nothing consistent. The people who left may be living some lives that aren't there's, or they could be dead just as soon as they may have found a way back.

Of course he moves past it without dwelling on it. Either it's difficult for him to recall or he doesn't want Five to know. ]

On the request? [ He raises an eyebrow. ] Did they assign you to debauchery, or was that your idea?

[legsbenedict]

[ It's a bit unfair how Nami can mold herself into these different personas with ease and grace, but he's so grateful for her presence. Where his food doesn't do the trick, who could possibly resist a sweet face and a smile thrown their way? When she makes it back to the kitchen, Sanji is sliding a tray of tart bases out of a hearth and he calls out over his shoulder. ]

Pear tarts on the fly, just for you, madam!

[ While the bases cool, he busies himself chopping slivers of pear and apple. He greets Nami with a fond smile, gesturing at the plate of appetizers he'd put together for her. ]

Sit and eat, give me ten minutes to finish these. I think they've got enough to distract them for now if the others are still loitering.

[mashiara]

( A slanted look, and: )

Responsibility for those you've watched grow? Is that something you understand as well?

( She frankly doesn't think so, and if that's bias or truth speaking, Nynaeve doesn't care to think on it. To the ghost: )

We look for her. Cassandra.

( Which turns into a scan of the dark graveyard, the mausoleums that scatter across it in their states of disrepair. Setting forward, she cants her head, reading stones for grave markers and then squinting into the shadows. )

Will you look for your Warder?

( Gone for whatever time it's counted as now, but not a surprise: the leavings are not a surprise to Nynaeve, but it's one less dependable someone around, and she rather wouldn't trade Lan for Moiraine — the two are meant to be a set, lamentably, but in singles, she'd take Lan any day. And not just for reasons she's opting to ignore. )

[mashiara]

( the ghost, lingering as she does without feet touching ground, cries and reaches out toward... nothing. )

Cassandra.

( nynaeve frowns, even as the stones are finally lifted into the ghost's hand, held up as if she peers from them directly, moving her hand in lieu of her head. )

Cassandra?

My sister.

[mashiara]

( A dark twist of her lips looking at that dark water. Hearing this young woman's story, it adds up in no pleasant way. Things aren't exactly straightforward in the darkness that's unfolding back home, but here there aren't even the markers of half familiar stories from earlier turnings of the Wheel: there's just this. Patterns woven to another weft. )

It takes hold, the waters. Fills a person, tries to become a person. So I've heard, and seen.

( She looks back to where Elayne holds a vial of dark water, and frowns, stepping closer while avoiding the slow spreading, viscous fluid at their feet. Feels the flicker of annoyance and lets it warm her belly when Elayne manages to look smug over something that is, in and of itself, extremely annoying. )

It hardly matters.

( She lifts her gaze, lips thinning. )

The forces we face here are unconcerned with the One Power, tainted or clean. It's something entirely different. Not limited in who can learn.

( Something far more equal, from the woman who chooses not to think about her own display of overwhelming power that had saved all but one from dying of the wounds that should have seen them all good for little but the next turning of the Wheel.

She flicks her fingers to the vial: )

The magic that makes this doesn't need weaving. It purposes itself.

[mashiara]

( Her own lips are a thinned line, studying Tykhe. Her nod is short, brief, sharp, in answer to the question the young man asks. )

For this. For anything beyond it, no.

( She gestures to him, to step forward, join her as she stands, still watching the ghost. This is not the way that people should be caught up, trapped instead of woven into the greater turning of the Wheel, and yet it's what this place knows, what it thrives on.

How hollow, how wrong. How vulnerable, when any one ghost can be stripped of their own driving recollections and used by necromancers against their own wills. That's not seduction, that's not recruitment.

That's a danger even a sightless ghost in search of her sister will face, if the dead reach greedy here. )

Well. We have a sister to find. Who may be a ghost herself, or may be... the memorial to mark her having lived.

( She brushes her hands against her sides, tugs at her braid of braids once, frustrated, unhappy, and sets her shoulders back, looking for the angle of the moonlight to begin reading grave markers, moving up the line of them in their assorted shapes toward the mausoleums that sit, hunchbacked, higher on the hillocks. She doesn't wait to see if Ben hands over the stones, if the ghost accepts them, if either follow.

In a sense, she simply believes should they have any sense of their own, they will. )

[mashiara]

( Nynaeve's head jerks up when she likewise sees the second ghost, the one silent, but opening arms to the sister who sees her by the stones held in hand. She shifts to place herself somewhat ahead of Nami, as if against ghosts it matters, as if for a stranger she should: she doesn't think about it, more than anything else.

The sisters embrace, and Nynaeve swallows, mouth dry. Heart aching, unaccountable for a woman who has never had siblings of her own, whose parents never had the chance. Who has stood in a place of failing, what feels like far too often of late, to protect those she feels responsible for protecting.

The four a world away, and may they stay there, safe somehow, even while she fears it's been anything but safe. )

The more important task.

( The one that will always be too late. The sisters don't speak, until a sound from Cassandra that is no such thing as words has them parting just far enough to hold the one free hand Tykhe has. She turns her hand with the stones their way, her head following a beat behind. Her eyes remain closed, useless as they are, empty and sullen sockets. )

Thank you. For my sister, and my sight.

time to communicate only in emotes

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He smiles, crooked and amused. )

The request is more to see them part ways. The debauchery is simpler when there's willing participants.

( A sideways glance, taking a sip of his own wine. )

Only tell me, is it more worthwhile to destabilise one who supports that mess of an undead leader camped outside the city, or to remove one from the camp of those who stand behind the man with the assassinating Hand?

please do the honors and submit this thread once they have the eyes if you want!

[cartographie]

[ The ghostly sisters hug and Nami's thoughts drift away from the inherent strangeness of the situation and towards Nojiko, back in Coco Village likely wishing and believing the best for her sister, not having a clue of the mess Nami's landed herself in this time.

It's surreal and - no pun intended at all - haunting, to see the two figures reuniting while being aware that this is just another loop of the cycle they're stuck in. These women might have died a long time ago, but the idea that come tomorrow night they'll be back to square one doesn't sit well with her.

Nami's so fixed on her train of thought she jolts in surprise when Tykhe turns to her and her new companion - eyes first - to express her gratitude. ]

I wish we could do more for you. [ The sentiment's all honesty and out before Nami can think to keep herself in check, staring up at the eyeless ghost's face as the spectral woman appears to shake her head, as though there were nothing else for her to want for. ]

You have done us both a tremendous boon tonight. [ Tykhe says, warm despite being dead. ] Why? What is it that you seek me out for?

[cartographie]

[ Nami advances and the voices blend into one satisfying-sounding whisper, reminding her with every step she takes that, of course she'd do something like this to her friends in the end.

The god chained to the ground is a gruesome sight, even through bleary eyes that much is clear, and though she's tempted to run over and just start kicking it for what it's driven her to do, Nami doesn't do anything that causes her to stay her longer than she feels she has to.

Her shoulders shake with sobs that don't seem to want to stop even with her hand pressed against her mouth, She grabs for a book waiting on a stone platform and shoves it into her rucksack before she has a chance to look it over - just taking for the sake of taking, because she has to walk away from this with something.

They're going to kick her out of the crew. Even when she resolves not to screw over anybody, she can't help herself. It feels like she's on a path she's not allowed to stray from.

By the time she passes through the gate again, Nami's given up on trying not to cry in front of Luffy. There's nothing she can do to undo what she's done to him, the least she can do is respect him enough not to hide her regret while she unfastens first his ankles and then his wrists before pushing his hat back on his head.

Unable to meet his eye, she turns around, preparing to head off and go straight to the windmill to collect her things before they're inevitably tossed onto the street. ] If it wasn't a betrayal it wouldn't have worked. [ It's true but it feels like the flimsiest defense in the world. She's done a horrible thing tonight, and the weight of it hangs on Nami, growing heavier with every step she takes away from him, doing her best not to fall apart completely until after she gets what's coming to her for this. ]

[cartographie]

No. [ He's as persistent as Luffy is - especially about points of principle, and given the way he blurted out that little nugget of information about how they certainly weren't cheating unprovoked, she's willing to bet he's just as covert and subtle as her captain is too. ]

Look. [ Nami steers them off to the side, facing out at the room as she tilts her head towards the edges of the room where quite a few faces are milling about, looking on as the games unfold. ] See? You have to watch the tables before you play, everybody knows that. The dealer could be crooked. [ Or there could be an obvious weakness somewhere just waiting for a skilled player to enter the field and exploit - but he doesn't need to know that. Instead, Nami draws his attention to the baccarat game where quite a few shifty characters seem to be playing observor. ] Never fails. You get the shiftiest types when there's a baccarat table.

[ She looks back to him, finally remembering she's forgotten one tiny detail in this whole adventure. ] What's your name? I'm Nami.