let's set d o w n some (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
groundrules) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
westwhere2023-11-01 05:35 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2023-11-01 05:35 pm
Entry tags:
- arcane: caitlyn,
- assassin's creed: ratonhnhake:ton,
- ephes,
- event,
- kingdom of the wicked: emilia,
- lockwood & co: anthony lockwood,
- mcu: america chavez,
- mcu: bucky barnes,
- mcu: natasha romanova,
- mcu: yelena,
- oh! my emperor: beitang moran,
- one piece: luffy,
- one piece: nami,
- one piece: sanji,
- one piece: zoro,
- tian guan ci fu: xie lian,
- umbrella academy: ben,
- umbrella academy: five,
- warcraft: wrathion,
- wheel of time: elayne trakand
the channeling
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.
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
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.
NOTES:
■ Some players have asked about potentially
■ NPC inbox, if you need anyone!
■ QUESTIONS
no subject
Clara has my umbrella. Clara knows exactly what it looks like.
( And that will be all that he speaks, petulantly, on the matter, determined to have his umbrella wrested back from Clara's villainous clutches without delay. Tiny women with great appetites for pilfering should never be trusted.
But then, she's frowning, the girl is, and the boy's squinting behind his fox mask, belligerent. )
To become the new thing. Obviously. My friend says it's like when butterflies have to become something better, so they change. I think he's just old. And wrong.
no subject
I think he's wrong, too. This new thing isn't better. And, did he ask anyone?
So. ( America tilts her head back. ) Is there a way to stop them from changing?
no subject
( He seems, for a moment, shocked in the way of children faced with something incredible and foolish. )
Of course not. Not now it's started. Maybe... maybe the ones it hasn't touched. ( Behind the mask, his grin's nearly audible. ) It doesn't let go easy. It's the most loyal friend in the world. That's what my other friend says.
( And yet, somehow colder. ) But then, my friend says he's the most loyal friend in the world. ( A pause. ) I don't like him anymore. That's why I'm here. He doesn't know. You can't tell him.
no subject
Do you want to tell me how we stop this? So it doesn't touch more people?
no subject
That's a stupid question. ( How? Why? It hardly matters. When you're as wise as a ten-year-old, such things are inconsequential.
The rain seems to dwindle now, less the product of his intervention than a simple happy turn of chance. He rolls on his feet, crouching down to stare into the newly formed puddles. Clear water, 'normal.' What a strange thing. )
It comes out for him. The water. So he leaves things behind, in places he likes. To make it come out again. You can't stop it, if he's left his things behind. ( A beat. ) Do you have a stick? ( For his puddle. ) Get a stick.
no subject
( The boy talks about the water, and America looks at it, curiously. )
Can we destroy his things, though, so the water won't be sidetracked? ( America asks that as she gets up and gets a stick, gladly. She shows it to the boy. )
no subject
( It's a good stick, fine and thick and long and reliable. He weighs it in both hands, nodding along as if impressed — truly, as if he had never in his life anticipated such a stick entering his possession. He is entirely overcome now that it has.
This stick will change his world. Why, look how he knocks it in the puddle! )
That's not how that works. ( He speaks, somehow, as if he expects her to know everything he does already. ) Just give up on. These people are... doomed. ( Said, possibly, with the air of an eyeroll. Doomed, or whatnot. )
But it'll annoy him a lot if you take his thing away. He doesn't like that. So I'm just here to tell you to do it. And keep it away. He'll have to come back here and put another one instead, if he wants to hold on to this place. That hurts him. A lot.
( He doesn't add, but seems to want to: Good. )
no subject
No. ( America says that a little more sharply than she intended. ) I'm not going to just give up on them!
How does taking the thing away help if he's just going to - ( She thinks on that one. ) I guess that would lure him out, though.
It...hurts him to make more things?
no subject
( A kid who is once more captivated by his stick, now using it as if a baton to try — and fail — to part the puddle's waters. Imagine, only, if he had a little boat. )
Uh-huh. Hurts him a lot. He has to... ( Is he whispering for horror, secrecy or glee? It's hard to tell. ) Cut them off himself. And he grows new ones for himself after. But they're not the same. They're like... uhhhh. Like...
( He waves the stick around for a moment, seemingly inspired. ) Like wooden legs! But not wood... ummmm... still. It hurts a lot to cut his real ones off. I hope he keeps having to. ( Muttered: ) My father died. And my friend knew. But he wouldn't tell me. So I hope he has to cut every last limb off. Every single one. I hope it hurts.
no subject
( America's eyes brighten to that. )
Wouldn't that weaken him? If you keep fracturing yourself over and over again. Even the duplicates that grow wouldn't be the same power.
( This was a chance, wasn't it? They just had to figure out how to hide the other things. Or kill them - she would prefer the easiest route, here. )
And there's no way we could kill the cut offs? How do we keep them captured? Like anything? Tie them down? We don't need anything special?
no subject
( He is, briefly, overwhelmed by far too many questions, far too many wants. She is desperate — he can feel it — and despair and urgency resonate as threats to him, forcing him to abandon his stick, dropped cleanly in the puddle.
He takes a step back. )
I've told you enough. You're so greedy and - and stupid and... I'm... I told you enough. He's going to find out. So... shut up. And just take what you were told. It's more than you had.
( And she's being, by the sound of his far too sulking, young voice - ungrateful. )
no subject
( She glares at him, but well, she can't make him talk about what he doesn't want to. )
Fine. But I thought you wanted to stop him. If that's all you have, I hope it's enough to do that.
no subject
I don't need to stop him. You can't stop him. ( He seems at once heated and resigned, in the way of children who've understood when they've exhausted their meager capabilities. )
I just want him to hurt. Because he deserves it. He lied about my dollhouse. He made it worse.
( And the child, apparently, bears grudges. ) He'll lose his territories if he keeps losing his pieces. Or he'll have to cut more of himself. And he's running out. So... so that's all I'll say. Get all his parts. And I hope he... I hope he screams.
( Ah, and let it not be forgotten: ) And get my umbrella. Bring it here tomorrow. I'll fetch it.
no subject
( Luckily for them both, America has other people she can pass on the information to. And maybe together they can figure things out. )
I'll do this, because we need to do something. But I can't do much about the umbrella if I don't know what it looks like!
no subject
( Can't. But then, he's a stubborn little thing and still somehow skittish, at once seemingly irritated by aspects of America's answers and fearful of her, of her physical presence.
He clutches his fox mask with both hands, as if dreading it might be peeled away. It isn't. )
Like my umbrella. Clara will know. So just ask her.
no subject
Got it. ( America sighs. ) I'll find this Clara.