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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( getting down here had been difficult enough — she plays the part of a supplicant well, but the voices.. natasha's never been a fan of things she couldn't see, and she had them aplenty in all those voices. it's like her greatest fears brought to life: you did not matter. your sacrifice did not matter.

now, before the locked and chained gates, there's something about this that has a sense of deja vu crawling down natasha's spine. a part of her wants to believe that she's it reminds her of vormir, the red skull, the end — wind rushing past her, clint's face as he lets her go, and then a crack. darkness. waking up here.

shaking it off, she leans over the inscription, brows pulling together a frown as she reads it again. sacrifice. she's had too much to do with sacrifice. still, what does she have to lose? )

I don't know about you, but I don't trust any instructions that are carved into literal doors.

( ooc: let's chat betrayal, etc., oocly! )

( America frowns at the gates, at the uncomfortable feeling settling inside of her. The whispers she hears remind her she's the reason her mothers are gone. They insist they're dead, there's no way they aren't, no matter what anyone else says. )

( She seems almost preoccupied when Natasha speaks. America's eyes widen, and she looks at Natasha. )

I don't think I trust anything here. So, not trusting the carving seems smart, to me.

( ooc: when they don't know each other so well, it's easier to get over hurt feelings? )

( ooc | that works for me! i'm down for america being the one to do it, if you want, and she can pick up vibes on what to say from natasha — or, if you don't want her to, she can pick up the vibes regardless and then natasha says something? )

( it's tough that her partner is a kid. well, not ... a kid kid, exactly. but not anyone she could imagine sacrificing in any way — she's got a whole life ahead of her. and, even worse than that, she knows natasha doesn't have anything to go back to. she'd made her choices, her sacrifices and it'd landed her here. but all of that was assuming she believed the door at all — )

Probably a good rule of thumb. ( frowning as she steps closer to the door, she glances back at america. ) You ok?

( the voices swirl for natasha: no one misses you. you were collateral damage that no one thinks about. you're worthless. setting her jaw, she folds her arms over her chest, almost protectively. )

( ooc: yeah, either works. America herself wouldn't be the best at picking up on that, normally, but this situation allows for it. She'll touch base with Natasha to apologize later, omg. lol )

( America shrugs to Natasha's question and puts on a fake smile. ) Yeah. You?

( She doesn't feel comfortable expressing those vulnerabilities. But, her mind echoes, if she's feeling uncomfortable, if she feels vulnerable, if voices are whispering to her, what are the chances Natasha feels the same? Normally, America wouldn't care about any of this, not to betray someone at all, not someone she barely knows, not even finding the information without her, but there is something wrong in this room, more than just the carving. )

( Especially when the whispers start to tell her Natasha could hurt her, there is nothing to promise she won't. )

( it doesn't matter what world you're in — hearing voices is never really a good thing, and she's not about to admit to that this person in particular. especially not when the voices sound like thoughts she's had before, things she'd never say out loud and that she barely allows herself to think anyway. lips thinning, she shakes her head — not willing to lie, but also not willing to fully tell the truth.

moving suddenly (in a way that in retrospect probably was ill-advised), she reaches for the knife at her hip. )

Maybe we can cut our way through —

I don't think that's going to work.

( America isn't even positive about that, but she's positive the voices in the air are becoming more intent. And not all of them are telling her terrible things about herself, are they? )

( She tries to ignore them. )

You got a better idea?

( it comes out more snappishly than intended, and natasha tries to soothe with a smile — a smile that wavers at the thought you're dangerous, dangerous to her. if she was smart, she'd be putting distance between the two of them ... but it's impossible to do that without leaving america behind and alone, and natasha isn't willing to do that either.

pulling her dagger, she pokes the vines with it, testing. then, grabbing one, she starts sawing away. )

I don't need a better idea to realize yours isn't getting us anywhere. ( America snaps right back, even if she feels abnormally irritated, and it's certainly not Natasha's fault. No, this whole thing doesn't feel right. )

( None of that thinking stops her eyes from narrowing. She crosses her arms. )

You're a danger to everyone you meet, aren't you? ( It's not even something she wouldn't normally say, it just doesn't feel right. )

( okay, maybe she deserved that first retort — but the second has her freezing, knife still held to the vines. hesitating for a long moment, natasha sheathes it and then turns to eye america out of the corner of her eye. it feels like her heart is beating in her throat. )

Maybe I am. ( probably good to acknowledge it. but — ) But acting like a child won't make you any safer.

( Natasha freezes, and responds the way she does, and America knows - the voices...they're right about her. And this is probably exactly what the words on the door meant. )

( America closes her eyes, trying to be level-headed about this, even as it makes her feel pretty guilty. She has nothing against Natasha, after all. )

I may be a kid, but if a child can figure this out when you can't, what does that say about you?

[ The voices are nothing new; in fact, they are a dungeon staple in this world. Yelena would like to think that she has had enough practice tuning them out, but today they snake past her defenses to strike at a nerve or two. She isn't here for you, the voices insist, dripping with fake sensitivity. She will leave you again. Everyone does.

The voices persist, variations on a theme designed to pick at her deepest insecurities. As she descends the stairs ahead of Natasha, Yelena is overcome with awareness of her own vulnerability, her mind skipping like a record over the ease with which she could be pushed. She can't help but pick up her pace to put a few more steps between herself and that unlikely yet nagging possibility.

By the time she reaches the bottom of the staircase, Yelena is feeling downright prickly, and not just because she disguised herself in full chain-mail dress, befitting a true devotee of the Chained God. Physical discomfort is more easily ignored than the emotional whirlwind stirred up by their long descent.

Like Natasha, Yelena means to shake it off, but reading the inscription on the door only deepens her dread. Sacrifice. Her eyes dart over to Natasha, reading what she can of her sister's expression in the dim, flickering light. ]

Those chains don't look so secure, [ she observes. It's a hope against hope that they can find a way around, some loophole or other trick, and bypass any notion of sacrifice. ]

( sacrifice. it means something more, something that feels like someone stepping on her grave — maybe someone is, back home. that thought alone cuts deeper than any voice in her head, the murmuring that insists that you've let them down or they never needed you in the first place.

yelena is watching her. well-aware of it, she keeps her expression neutral, impassive. fights to keep from betraying any of her thoughts, knowing that a single microexpression would be enough to give her away. )

You could add them to that ensemble you have going, ( natasha jabs, nodding her head at yelena's dress. ) Like the Ghost of Christmas Future, or something like that. You have a knife somewhere in there? Or a crowbar?

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the channeling

incense: the sleeper's hall entrance. (ota!)

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