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
[ As he explains his idea out loud, Lockwood listens to the amount of 'ifs' that fall past his lips. It really is a long shot beyond long shots, and it might not be worth the risk of upsetting the spirit they follow by even asking.
Sad to say, this isn't even one of the worst plans he's ever come up with in his life. Just one of the first times he's shared his ideas, and invited input from his companion, before leaping into the unknown. ]
no subject
( She will think it foul play, the opportune moment for them to initiate a crime. To perform villainy upon her, who is already grieving. She will trust little, offer less.
All these things, Lan Wangji would not begrudge her, between callous whispers of the cold and the ground that fragments beneath their steps. He has understood they have half of a shichen — an hour. And if Lockwood can persuade her, if she allows him her eyes...
Is this wishful thinking or instruction?
No. No time. No time for negotiation, for kindness, for doubt. Only for action: one of the... eyes rests primly in Tykhe's hand. The second, collected on the tip of Lan Wangji's fast-drawn sword in a circular, seamless swing.
He does not ask permission. Does not make excuses. And, her sight only half cut, she hardly notices, at first.
He holds the eye on the sword, extending both towards Lockwood: )
Work quickly. ( Already, the woman is clutching her remaining eye in her hand, as if aware something is missing, if not quite what. )
no subject
With a nod, he takes the 'eye' and immediately focuses his conscious mind to his psychical ability. His Sight has always been his most powerful Talent, the intensity of his ability to see spiritual energy often blinding him without his sunglasses. Touch has always been weaker, but he is hoping that the energy Tykhe uses to bewitch her makeshift eyes will be powerful enough to bridge the gap.
He's used to working under pressure, especially when it comes to sorting out Sources. Rarely do spirits want agents to find their Sources. Not because of any desire to remain in the mortal world. But because the Sources are usually items of great value to the spirit, even if their conscious awareness has been reduced to little more than lizard brain obsession.
Finding a sister, whether said sibling wishes to be found, is a very high value and as primitive an instinct as one could get. Save, perhaps, the drive of a parent to find a child. Perhaps it is Lockwood's own deeply repressed desire to see and reunite with his own lost family that aids him, rather than his weak talent for Touch, but he turns slightly towards the north.
It's an area that does not appear to be traveled with any sort of regularity and does not seem as if it might naturally be on Tykhe's regular routes. Perhaps this is further evidence to Lan Wangji's theory that Cassandra does not wish to be found. Respectful of the older man's supposition, Lockwood discreetly motions in the new direction, seeking to leave Tykhe to her own devices for the moment. ]
'Do we go?' [ The question is conveyed through a silent lift of eyebrows rather than actual speech. ]
no subject
( They go.
He does not trouble himself with confirmation: Lockwood can interpret plainly the stubborn, unyielding set of his steps as he starts them, where the young man has trained them, like arrows released from the bow — north, then.
And he waves Lockwood along, less to follow than to sit the 'eye' back on Bichen's blade, so that he might return the orb into Tykhe's hold before, aggrieved, she succumbs to anguish or rancor and ignores their efforts to reunite her with her precious sister. For a time, he walks on. )
What did you do? ( Safe, clean, sterile: a voice entirely academic. There is no age past which a scholar of the world, the cultivation arts or the world of spirits may excuse himself from learning. This is no different: for all his youth, Lockwood may teach. )
no subject
As they walk along, Lockwood's brow furrows as he considers the question. No one has ever asked him how his psychic abilities work. By now the adults who do care probably outgrew their own abilities and the adults who don't care, don't care. Children, on the front lines with their abilities, tend to learn 'on the job' about their Talent, so it just isn't a question he's used to fielding.
Also it feels weird to try to teach a man who has always carried an air of the teacher.
Lockwood takes a bit of time to gather his thoughts. Trying to explain in the fewest amount of words what -fifty years in- his own world is still trying to understand. ]
We call it Talent, back home. Sensitivity to the psychic energies expressed by the dead. To date there are three main categories; Sight, Touch and Listening. I'm strongest in Sight. [ He motions with his hands towards the graves on either side of their paths. ] Death glows in the shapes of bodies. I don't need a flashlight in this place, it's lit up like daylight to my eyes. Blinding actually.
Listening is pretty much what you might expect. The sounds of death loops, the cries of restless spirits. I don't know if you had a chance to meet her, but my fri... associate Lucy is an incredibly powerful listener. She can also hold conversations with the dead. Only one other person from our world has been able to do that. [ Does he sound proud? Despite adjusting from friend to associate, yes he sounds very proud indeed. ]
The third is called Touch. It allows an agent to pick up the emotions, energies of a prized object. Some agents are sensitive enough to be able to pick up the residual feelings and motivations of a spirit from a beloved object. It can often help us figure out the reasons for a haunting, and help us help the spirit to settle. But, almost all of us are at least sensitive enough to recognize a Source when we touch one.
[ Whether conscious of it or not, Lockwood rubs his palms along his slacks. ]
I'm rubbish for Listening, and my Touch is middling especially compared to my Sight, but she's poured enough of her energy, her motivation and intention, into those objects that they resonate like a Source. Normally it would only be for her [ he nods towards the specter they follow ] but her desire to find her sister, the energy she's put into those objects to use them to find her sister. I figured it was worth a try to use them, the way I would a proper Source, to find the sister.
no subject
There is method to your people's madness.
( Sight, touch, listening. Three of the bluntest, most obvious senses, excellent for detection and investigation. Coupled — and he sees the young man at last, lean and muscled and crafted as a complement to his sword, perhaps grown with it in hand — with skill, and that creates a promising, uniquely competent and equipped pursuer of the dead.
For safety or coin or mere duty. Lan Wangji cannot begin to comprehend the rules that govern a world so callous towards its own children. No, it must be despair and survival that define it, sooner than dignity. This service that Lockwood and his kin and kind perform is, surely, a work of last resort.
And it is an art perfected. As Lan Wangji — frail, somehow brittled by his fresh understanding, not even troubling himself to nod along — advances further, returning Tykhe's eye on sword's tip — )
You were correct.
( They reach a nest of deadened things and spiritual energies, a presence so compelling that Lan Wangji senses it with minimal exertion. There, beyond toppled walls of weeds and ivy: the sister Cassandra, pale and nearly dissolved, entirely translucent. Her mouth, wailing unheard.
Now, Lan Wangji's part to play: whispering energy in a piece of talisman to activate a lure and draw Tykhe, blindly, behind him — and waving Lockwood on: )
Bring her. The sister. ( One mute, the other blind. He suspects they must be delivered together, hand in hand. )
no subject
Err, how?
[ He doesn't usually have to ask such questions. Back home he is one of the penultimate experts in his field. But that is as a destroyer of ghosts, not a medium for them. Again, that was Lucy's skill set. Regardless, Lockwood doubts that his sword will do much good in this situation and without a Source to draw Cassandra along, he's a bit at a loss.
His ego may chafe at having to ask such a simple question to Lan Wangji, especially as Lockwood likes to look smart and competent in front of people he respects. But the boy has gotten better -recently- about keeping his ego from making a decision that will end up ruining the job. ]
no subject
( ...how. Yes. The logistics of coaxing the dead are ever a matter of chance and experiment, seldom one of skill. He could lie and entertain the arrogance that seducing Cassandra forward is a matter of method — hardly, never so.
Instead, he waves Lockwood nearer for a conference of minds: ) Speak to her. Signal her close. Be safe-seeming, as with young rabbits.
( ...yes, his animal-children of choice. And what of it? Spirits are no stronger, no more entrenched in this world. They require kind, gentle and stubborn invitation, not unlike children or timid creatures. )
She will hear. They ever hear. ( ...they do not always heed. But then, unlike Cassandra, they know Tykhe to be volatile, and Lan Wangji would sooner trust himself with that gamble. )
no subject
[ He'd managed it with 'Jack' hadn't he? Jack had been just as timid, perhaps even more so and had also been a spirit. Jack had also always felt more corporal, less
threateningotherworldly than Cassandra did at the moment.Taking a deep breath, Lockwood glanced towards Lan Wangji one last time and then began to pick his way through the death glows towards Cassandra. He moved slow, and deliberate holding his hands slightly forward and out away from his body -namely his rapier- as he tried to project safe and open body language. ]
Hello, Cassandra. [ One thing that always worked in his favor was the deep, soothing timber of his cultured tones, and Lockwood never hesitate to lean on what he knew were his God given gifts. ] I ... we hear you. [ Wasn't that what Lucy always encouraged? Acknowledging the source of the spirit's disquiet and helping them feel understood? ] Come with me and I promise, it's going to be alright.
[ He had no idea what 'alright' would even look like, but Lockwood sold the idea as best he could with his words, his voice, his expression and his body language. Watchful of Cassandra and the other spirits around her, he sought to move slightly beside and behind her, as if to herd her towards Lan Wangji and Tykhe. Rabbits huh? You herded them from behind, right? ]
no subject
( Herded from behind, yes, as with children. So too does Lan Wangji steer Tykhe, who insists first, stubbornly, on crafting her own path and deciphering her sister's location (again), for all they have already encountered her. Then come the hissing, the clawing, Tykhe's hands reaching for his cheeks. He shudders, narrowly avoiding her clutches, flinching back to allow her a generous berth.
He cannot force her, break her as if she were flesh, or twist her soul. Only, minimally, summons his zither from nothingness and crackling energy with the wave of a hand — and its menace compels her, however furiously. It is no kindness; she will not thank him.
All the same, the spirits face each other, and at first, at sweet first, Lan Wangji suspects they will collide or fail to recognise one another, perhaps that they might not have shared blood after all — only to sketch a threadbare nod, once, when they come together, Tykhe initiating what Cassandra cannot express her gratitude for, and both called to each other, artless and fond.
They embrace. Pull away. Come together again. And the mad, long-brewed cooing of purred sounds that Tykhe emits, the weeping of Cassandra bring Lan Wangji a certain distant, cooling joy. He allows the zither to dissolve into motes of energy and silence — and pulls back. )
You prevailed. Well done. ( Enough so that Tykhe, for one, turns to offer out the gift of her 'eyes' to Lockwood. )
no subject
He watches the reunion with some trepidation, still thinking of the older man's theory that Cassandra might be trying to avoid Tykhe. But as the two embrace, withdraw and embrace again, a bittersweet expression comes across Lockwood's face. He cannot help briefly wondering if he and his family would greet one another in such a way, were he to join them in the spirit world. It is not the first time he has had such thoughts, though not a place he has allowed his mind to wander since arriving in this world.
As Tykhe approaches him, Lockwood shakes himself from his melancholy and forces his focus back on the here, and the now. He reaches out to take the offered eyes, cradling them carefully on his mortal flesh, before closing his fingers around them and smiling gently to Tykhe. ]
Thank you, Tykhe. [ He loads the words with genuine appreciation, remembering the advice Lan Wangji just now shared with him; how the spirits can hear. Advice that echoes within his mind in a voice that sounds a lot like Lucy. She would have insisted on a proper expression of gratitude as well.]