westwhere | the channeling

the channeling

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

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You don't know many thieves, do you?

[There's something like honour, a twisted variation of the concept, more to do with professional pride than it is anything else. But it doesn't matter, not really, not with their current task. He's not stealing or tricking the ghost out of her trinkets.]

I'm not scared. [He's not, strangely enough. Why should he be? He's not seen any evidence she can hurt them.] Are you?

( For a moment, he is paralysed by the question, suspended in a state between public disbelief and private uncertainty that he has failed so completely to introduce himself, misrepresenting the clan. There is a duty that the sect Gusu Lan performs and that he, as a representative of Cloud Recesses, must prioritise.

Perhaps he has not communicated his nature duly. Has not extended his services, has not made himself... approachable. This was every brother's calling, the nature of his diplomacy and service. Lan Wangji — delays in social facilities.

Behind his back, his fingers round, tightly, in a steel-knuckled fist, containing his criticism of his own tepid performance. )

This is my life's work. ( Sir. ) I am theirs. ( More than his own. )

Thieving or chasing after the ghosts of women?

[ He really isn't sure what this man is about, who he is. If Lan Wangji had aired any of those thoughts, Jacob would have agreed with him, they've not really been upfront about each other. Jacob never is, it isn't smart to do so, at least where he is from.

The ghost continues her march through the graveyard, passed rows of tombstones and monuments. ]

Would it not be better if we dug you up and moved you closer to your sister, ma'am?

( Dug you up and —

He stills first, slack in his step — before dashing forward at Jacob's side, hand cleanly ready on the hilt of his sword, should the spirit retaliate with violence for her answer.

Unexpectedly, but welcome, she does not. Instead, she drifts farther, indifferent to the question. )

Often, they are unprepared to accept their — ( Lick of his lips, dry. How to articulate this with courtesy. ) Circumstances.

( ...for all it is plain and obvious to them that Tykhe is of the deplorably deceased, she might... struggle with the agony of that conclusion. So often, the shock of their passing divorces spirits from memories of that transition. )

She must be newly buried, if the collector has not claimed her eyes prior. Seek fresh tombs.

[ For a moment, Lan Wangji seems to linger behind, although Jacob has no idea why. He's about to look back, when the other man appears once more at his elbow, although he looks like he's expecting bad news. From the ghost? She seems harmless enough.

But then he speaks, and Jacob looks all the most confused. ]

You mean she doesn't know she's... missed dinner?

[Wangji does look like he's about to keel over, maybe saying "dead" isn't such a great idea. Jacob substitutes it with the first thing that comes to mind. ]

Hers? Alright, but weren't we looking for the sister? That's what she wants.

)( Missed... dinner. Ah.

But then, he has refrained from speaking undue words, and, truly, one must be grateful and evenly paced when training one's pet Jacob.

The question is fair, due consideration. He sketches a nod. )

We are. ( A pause. ) If she does not know where her sister — Was interred. ) Sleeps, it must be because she was buried after. ( Her. )

Therefore, an even fresher tomb. ( Unmarked. Based entirely off speculation. Not a wild goose chase at all. Trust in Lan Wangji, who has only ever erred for the better part of his life. )

[ He's hungry, alright? He also missed dinner. But he isn't dead, as far as he's aware. Just hungry. ]

A freshly made bed. I can find one of those.

[Although talking in riddles isn't something he approves of, he can at least play along, use these same nice, sugar-coated phrases to prevent either Lan Wangji or the ghost from being offended.]

Do you want to keep an eye on her, I'll go explore?

( He should not laugh. Does not laugh. Cannot laugh. Stares, only, limpidly and clearly aware, at long last, of the circumstance he faces.

In the dark of a long night, he thinks he sees Jacob perfectly. And so, in perfect, sanguine monotone: )

Do you fear her company? ( Is this why he is straddled with the spirit? )

[ Jacob glares. Stops following the ghost and simply glares at the other man.]

I told you I'm not. She's not frightening. Why would I be frightened? You go find her gr- bed! Go on, get on with it!

( Her gra — he flinches, preparing to chastise or deny, only Jacob, at the very last stretch of the moment, catches himself.

Diplomacy and strategy, at long last. He nods, faintly amused, far more lent purpose. Sparing Jacob a parting glance — there is a weapon upon the man, he suspects, at every moment, and so Lan Wangji need not fear for his safety, precisely — he darts off.

It is not the work of mere moments. Weeds and sheltered resting places and graves straddling graves. He loiters between them, testing the stone plates for names, only to find, as the burial grounds suggest — no indication.

Finally, a breakthrough: he calls out, reedy — ) Jacob. Bring her.

( ...to a grave that appears freshly crafted within the past month, the earth still showing signs of churning. )

[ And so Lan Wangji leaves him to go poking around the graves and Jacob is babysitting a ghost. Great. Fine.

But he has no idea what babysitting a ghost entails either. He doesn't think there's any sort of small talk he can make, but he tries.]

Where'd you see your sister last?

[ He doesn't get an answer. Not before Lan Wangji calls out to them and he frowns, looking between her and the source of voice.

How the hell do you herd a ghost?]

Miss? This way please. My friend thinks he might have found her...

( ...friend, and blessed be the night that shrouds him and the flinch that absorbs his body, whole. How he turns, sharply, to stare, only to surrender the better part of his indignation and trade it in for care, when Tykhe crawls and creeps forward, trail of her translucent rags behind her.

She stills before the anonymous grave, coming to kneel, and perhaps Lan Wangji's arrogance shows here in his hope — only, she shrieks all at once, howl miserable, hands clawing the nameplate and leaving behind the cleaving of scratches, for all she now absents fair fingertips.

He intercedes to collect her, to peel her away — and fails, when she nearly slaps him down with waves of wind and current, and he breaks his fall on his hand, sunken near Jacob's feet. Before his friend may interject, he murmurs: )

...leave her to mourn a moment. She will recover.

( Quite possibly, Lan Wangji needs this moment to right himself to his feet, also. )

[ The night hides it well, and probably for the best. Jacob knows they aren't friends, nor bossom companions or even truly brothers made by split blood, or rven men who tolerate each other, but he does like Lan Wangji, even if he doesnt understand him. He'd be hurt to see the man react so negatovely to the suggestion.

Better that he's focused instead on poor Tykhe. Her path to the grave is a hard one it seems, as if there is more than weeds that impedes her, and Jacob almost feels sorry for the woman so desperately searching for her kin.

That melts away as she lashes out at Lan Wangji, and its to the other man that Jacob goes to attend. The fall could be bad, amongst hidden stones and uneven ground, and Jacob knows how easy it is to break the bonws of hand or wrist. ]

It's not her I'm worried about. Are you hurt?

( He bides his time, rising. She is still wailing, still calling the winds to herself, on the cusp between maelstrom and settling. What she requires now is not intervention but patience — and that, they can offer.

With Jacob beside him, he finds himself reassured not that he will come to his feet — he will always come to his feet — but that someone might watch his back, on the scant likelihood that she decides to shift to the offensive. )

Thank you. ( But breezy, in the way of platitudes, no better than 'Apologies' and 'Think little of it.' Ache makes house in his bones, stretches and roils. Then the qi energies that power so much of his person stitch back flesh and unmake bruises with quiet, stinging pulses of rapid healing.

He brings himself up, cautiously, just as the woman Tykhe recovers, reduced to a familiar litany of sobs. And he does not glance, passing her by. )

Have no care. ( To Jacob. To her. ) There is a second tomb, steps away.

Edited 2023-11-08 22:39 (UTC)

Bed.

[It comes out without thought, a correction that perhaps Lan Wangji might have himself offered if Jacob had been the one to slip up. But there's no malice behind it, no smugness. Merely the quick correction of someone trying to keep up a story.

More importantly, he keeps his attention on Lan Wangji, just on the way he holds himself. He expects nothing less than the usual, the manners that seem to be adhered to so strictly, spine forced into ramrod straightness, muscles held tight. No sign whatsoever that he might have hurt himself.

With a smile, he thinks: What an arse.]

Let's check that one, shall we? Come on Tykhe.

...bed. ( He hisses, because truly, now, a man harmed by his own rules is no wittier than one injured by his own blade. Both have earned their bloodletting and must suffer the humiliation with a stiff upper lip and a straight, unyielding spine.

Still, he can pepper his obedience with a parting jab: ) She is no dog.

( Come on, Tykhe. Truly. For all Lan Wangji leads her precisely as if she were collared, with little regard for her delays and confusion, acknowledging the essence of her story and her hurts, but not the immediate reality of her petty questions and pains. No, let them not touch on his hypocrisy, as he reroutes them towards a different tombstone, equally young, the ground beneath it freshly raked and bearing the signs of negligence that suggest the person interred was... of lesser rank, or perhaps committed deeds unsavoury.

At first, no reaction. Tykhe rolls her eyes in hand, a slight pit-pattering of raindrops drenches the grounds. He prepares to brace against the cold. )

There is a third bed —

( And then, a woman peers from behind the tombstone, scream mute and long. )

Only if you buy me dinner.

[ Again, its said with that quick timing that suggests such a remark is not something that would have been said if brains were in gear, but one look at Jacob's smirk says he knows exactly what he's said. And expects Lan Wangji to fluster about it too.

Sometimes you have to make your own fun.

The smirk fades when Lan accesses him of talking ot her like a dog- he wpuls maintaon that he somply urged her like one would irge a forgetful aunt or errant child. But of ocurse he goes on to do that himself and Jacob has to bite his tongue. The fact the second grave seems a bust too is a slight irritation until the scream fills the night.

He might have relaxed a little in the oresence of the ghost but a second appearing throws himand the blade at his wrist slides free immediately, just as he tries to put himself between the ghosts and Lan Wangji. ]

Do we know if she liked her sister?

( Lan Wangji, for one, is not entirely certain he likes the sister.

She startles him, startles Jacob, leaves only her blind sister unmoved. Rapidly, he begins to understand the trouble: Cassandra cannot call her sibling close. Tykhe cannot see her and relies on sound.

They require steering and shepherding, and he swallows hard and troubled, waving Jacob along with calm he does not possess: )

They are sisters, seeking one another. They love each other well.

( ...he says, as if Jin Guangyao did not slaughter droves of his half siblings. No matter. This deed must be finished and done. )

Mind Tykhe. ( Being the safer option on account of having not killed them so far. A fine record. ) I shall... invite Cassandra.

Mind her?!

[ Is she a dog or a baby? Either way, Jacob is out of his depth and beginning to feel frustrated. But he tries as best he can, mocving up close to poor Tykhe. He's not sure if he should, or can touch her, but he tries to speak to her kindly.

She's a woman who's lost her sister, is blind and confused. She doesn't deserve any if their disdain. ]

Miss Tykhe, we think we've found your sister. Will you come with me?

( No easier work on the other end. Yes, Tykhe is stubborn and contrary, but Cassandra, it emerges, either never gained or has since surrendered the ways of trust. She is skittish, shuddering, fast to retreat and difficult to coax. He calls to her, repeatedly and kindly, until — like a rabbit — she barely negotiates a few steps forward, and he must pause every now and then to ask again, again, again.

Finally — finally — the two women are brought nearly face to face. Cassandra screams her greetings, unheard, yet mute. Tykhe does not see her, stolen eyes somehow... futile.

It strikes Lan Wangji that the true tragedy of these sisters may be, they cannot reconcile even in the face of such obvious reunion. And to think he wastes hours, days with a beloved brother, never treasuring the privilege of their chance to come together again, at any time they so choose.

He takes the hand of one, then of the other — and connects them, waiting.

Somehow, they know each other. Somehow, they pull one another into embrace. Somehow, Lan Wangji feels... less gladdened than aggrieved, weighed down. And to Jacob: )

...come. Let us unmake Cassandra's sleeping place and see them rest by each other. ( So that they might never have to hunt again. )

[ Jacob watches with lines across his brow, uncertain about the reunion, whether they should be interfering, if something terrible will happen because of it. But strangely, despite how unreal all this should be, despite how his sense of logic rebels nothing... seems to happen. There's no sudden pain or attack, no horrible event that occurs when the dead women touch tentative hands, as guided by Lan Wangji.

Jacob is glad that it's the other man, frankly.

As for moving bones, that's something he feels he can do. Especially as he's not the one wearing a white dress. Who wears something like that to a graveyard? Pillock. ]

I saw a shovel back that way, I'll fetch it.

[And he does, without much difficulty. He doesn't know how deep people bury their dead here, but as long as neither of the sisters cares, he'll begin un-intering one from her final resting place.]

Do you want to see about those buttons?

Edited (almost forgot the whole point of this, d'oh) 2023-11-16 11:15 (UTC)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

the channeling

only if it involves feather dusters and blindfolds...

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your call if this is the right grave!!!

Coin flip says no :(

coin flip knows where it's at! trust the process!

No trust

w-wow

so I should never try to tag on my phone, when it's late and I've had a drink. we know this now.

'bed'!!!!

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