groundrules: (Default)
let's set d o w n some ([personal profile] groundrules) wrote in [community profile] westwhere2023-11-01 05:35 pm

the channeling



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 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

reparo: (Default)

hermione granger (harry potter)

[personal profile] reparo 2023-11-01 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
[ooc; some thread starters follow below! pick your favourite and turn in a profit - or be a rebel and start a new thread to throw in a wild card. hermione would be participating in wealth whispers and be involved in incense (wild sentence to write without any capitalisation but i'm going for it) so there's no limit for those options. /slaps the hood - it's amazing how much betrayal you can fit in this baby. just assume she goes around during the limited time /fingerguns]
reparo: (flight)

1. wealth whispers: what's a place like this doing in a girl like you?

[personal profile] reparo 2023-11-01 11:47 pm (UTC)(link)
That's vile. [ It should be a more discrete whisper, but it isn't. Muttered under her breath as she steps over the bloodied streets of Tibras, the sound still carries. Her attire blends in just fine, makes her blend in with the servant girls she's seen walking in the atriums of some of the wealthier houses of Ephes, all simple tunic and a palla that is the very definition of functional and durable. In fact, with it covering her hair and with her hand holding the fabric up to cover her nose from the stench, she is virtually undistinguishable.

Except, of course, for the glint of a talisman, and the peak of a few rebel curls for anyone who'd be asking. There are some places where peanut sellers don't need to go, and the Merchants' guild is one of them. Yet, here she is, on her own (for now, heyyyy), daintly hopping over a cobblestone that looks precarious and looking for warehouses. ]
reparo: (episkey)

2. wealth whispers: bureaucracy edition

[personal profile] reparo 2023-11-01 11:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Picture the scene as it is: exterior, day-ish, Hermione Granger standing in a different attire, looking Official in pristine (this is done with magic) white robes and a little blue sash that makes her look like someone with authority (this is achieved by weeks of selling peanuts to Senators and noticing their manerisms and garments; also, magic), holding a unrolled and very long scroll in her hand and a pen in the other, going over a list most officiously and - yep, she's bluffing again. ]

Yes, see here - as I suspected, it appears your establishment failed to meet th-the quality, uh, requirements - health and safety regulations, fire hazard - you are storing highly flammable things in there, and regular inspections are therefore required to - look, if you'll just let me through, I can clear it up with the top brass of course.

I mean, they can clear it up with me. Come on, time is wasting.
reparo: (s.p.e.w.)

3. wealth whispers: casino royale edition

[personal profile] reparo 2023-11-01 11:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She is trying very hard to not look the whale in the eye, over here, because this is normal right now. Fish people who talk and run casinos. (And okay technically whales are mammals.) Are they dead? Undead? Who knows! Haha, such fun! ]

So when you say if I lose I share one of my memories with you, do you mean in the sense that I lose that memory to you or do I just tell you about it? Also, what use do you have for memories?
reparo: (depulso)

4. incense: incentive is that she's easy to betray

[personal profile] reparo 2023-11-01 11:49 pm (UTC)(link)
[ooc; I am happy with Hermione being the betrayed, but let's discuss oocly what's going to happen before it does? PM or @ me on discord or plurk]

"Act natural, it's me," she says, to the person she's just siddled up to, a cloak covering her face for the most part. It's to shield her expression from view, because who would believe Hermione is a devout anything?

You're a poor actress. No idea what you've gotten yourself into, and now you're going to drag some poor bystander down with you. All for knowledge - pathetic.

"Shut it," she snaps, under her breath. In the silence immediately after she realises: no, her travel companion was not talking. The stupid, sweet and poisonous voices are at it again.
mashiara: icons from dreacons @ij (hmm... | if i told you)

nynaeve al'meara | the wheel of time (amazon series)

[personal profile] mashiara 2023-11-02 03:49 am (UTC)(link)
at night, she seeks
( Nynaeve stood, feet planted firmly, eyes glancing over the expanse of the burial grounds. The make of it lies as unfamiliar as so much of this world, but not the intent; the poverty something understood from exposure, but no less pleasing, to see these markers for those passed and how many lie under recently disturbed dirt.

She wonders, briefly, if anyone has clawed back up, if the dark water has found fertile grounds here. She shoves those thoughts to the side. One task at a time. They need information, and by the Light, if it means dealing with more ghosts, so be it.

She breathes in, and out, tense in her waiting, forehead just shy of furrowing in the perpetual concern and frustration she seemed to exist within. The night stretches late, and cold, and the city fails to heal, and there are better things for her to do, but not more important ones for their ends in this particular moment. That frustrates as well, and she breathes out, sharp. She's not a woman for inaction.

Thus it is in the moment that the ghost begins to coalesce, moments of mist gathering to form among the tumbled stones and faded wood and hidden cairns below, the obvious ones low and visible above, Nynaeve straightens, and steps forward. Steps careful, but with firm purpose, along the avenues of the dead, while the sightless ghost pats her hands around, searching for something, mumbling about...

Right. Eyes. Whatever galls her in the vision of those blackened, ghostly sockets is swallowed down as her lips twitch in their frown. Nynaeve digs into her pocket, holding out one round stone, the second spilling out onto the ground, disliking and accepting this absurdity from the way Apollonius had smugly spoken, the words she'd later exchanged with the people who lived near the graveyard itself. Of a ghost who searches, first for eyes, then for something else, and how most would prefer to leave her to her hauntings, contained as they are.
)

Tykhe.

( Nynaeve looks to her companion, holding out her other hand, expectant. The round stone that fell from her pocket and rolled toward them glints pale against the sepulchral ground beneath them. )

Will these help?

( ooc: hit me up here for a wildcard and i'll spin us a scenario! you're also welcome to wildcard in for me with any prompt you like, nynaeve is only going to be extremely bad if you need help swaying a senator and browbeating or intimidation isn't the way to do it, whoops )
bravelyrunsaway: (state; you don't want honest truth)

licyn mansbane | original

[personal profile] bravelyrunsaway 2023-11-02 04:10 am (UTC)(link)
time to be a wingman
( Licyn nudged his companion, tipping his head in the direction of a certain Captain Maximilian Hawk. What lovely memories he has, of the Dawn's Reach Company, and not a lick of them on his face as he smiles and winks. )

What are your thoughts on pillow talk, love?

time to sway some senators
On second thought, ( Licyn says, adjusting his toga with what he hopes is a rakish grin, and what rather is, only he's feeling like he's been dropped back into hot water and no one bothered checking if he could swim ) maybe it was a touch ambitious to propose attending a... what is this called?

( he gestures to the courtyard and garden around them, the gathering at the cusp of dusk where they're meant to intercept and prevent some minor senator's daughter from making free with some other minor senator's daughter. It's tedious, but in no sense does he want anything he's heard of the Hand or its head to be leading the politics around here. Why not sway a vote in Messalina's favour? Slow down the dead in whatever way works for long enough they can get out the Gateway and let the Storms take what remains?

Pardon him. He's displeased at finding himself here again, only he doesn't remember leaving, and the span of missing time is deeply unsettling now that he's not attempting to get laid in the mercantile parts of town.
)

A garden party?

( ooc: i'm happy for wildcards in, or being asked for a wildcard! if you want me to write one for us, just comment with "wildcard" in subject line and leave the comment blank, and i'll invent a scenario for us. feel free to leave suggestions in comment if you want! )
weifinder: (ask | is deafening)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-11-02 04:16 am (UTC)(link)
Okay but how are the resentful energies of the people killed around the city feeling about being called to the Senate Floor to make their feelings non-lethally known before the voting day? Asking for a friend. That friend is me.

I'll take the bodied dead too, I just have no idea where the ones he directed away from the arena ended up, and he'd hope to be able to you know. Send them on. But, you know. Traumatic deaths and all!
weifinder: (laidback | that i can't fight)

wei wuxian | the untamed

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-11-02 04:42 am (UTC)(link)
poker face
( He's been observing the games, not so much at the shark man's table as at others, learning the rules and finding it fun, not in spite of himself so much as in addition to knowing part of him will always like playing against chance. Defying odds. Attempting impossibilities.

There's something to be said in how one is raised.

So before he settles in at Aurelius Longus' table, looking more the light hearted, easy going man he once was in most truth, his smile is all good humour and sharp edges, he asks his companion conversationally:
)

How directly do you think he claims his blood price?

( ooc note: Wei Wuxian will lose two hands before he wins one, so be forewarned about blood and also me remembering anything about poker — )

mash betray
( He studies the stone gates when they reach them, irritation curled under his skin, creeping towards his shoulders, up his back. He breathes with it, blinks through the pressure building in his chest. Reads the inscription, and the instruction, and laughs, low and amused and then utterly without amusement, reaching out to tap one fingernail over the instructions. )

I'm told I excel at both. Should I test that?

( He cants his head, offers his companion an easier smile. There are jests buried within these kinds of stilted circumstances, and he's already sighing at the thought of them, as the irritation bubbles and boils and settles again poorly under his skin by force of habit and of will. When the paranoia tries to whisper about intended harm, he can only accept it. Has known it. Doesn't believe it. One doesn't need the trappings of chains and stone gateways and carved recesses like this to know that betrayal, that temporary truces, are as situational as the weather is willful in the summer seasons where he grew up.

He steps toward the shackles, the chains, and runs fingers over the metal links, considering. The ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he muses:
)

Poor craftsmanship. You'd think if they were going to have decorative chains, they'd bother making them look more impressive.

( ooc note ii: Wei Wuxian should be the one left outside, either because he'll sacrifice himself (chained to the door, his blood across the words) or your character beats him to his own worst tendencies! I'm happy for whatever amuses you.)

( ooc note iii: i'm also happy for wildcard tag ins for anything, or for people to tag saying they'd like me to write up a custom starter! just say wildcard in subjectline and leave the comment empty, and i'll write us up something unique. )
nothinglikefather: made by peaked (right then)

'Cause I'm bluffin' with my muffin

[personal profile] nothinglikefather 2023-11-02 10:45 am (UTC)(link)
[ Aside from the folk hosting the games, this is very much like home. The pubs Jacob used to frequent both dockside and in Whitechapel were not so different, with people spending more than they had, hoping they'd win big, laughing as their lives were stolen from them penny by penny.

Maybe the cost is higher here and now, secrets and blood in exchange for information and hope. He doesn't know if it's going to be worth it, but it's got to be worth a try. He's given enough blood for less in the past.

And besides, there's at least a familiar face at the table, the man from the Arena. The Necromancer. He's not sure if they're on the same side in all of this, but he at least thinks the man is probably not about to sabotage him.]


I don't think they run a tab, if that's what you mean.
nothinglikefather: made by peaked (not sure if I believe you)

[personal profile] nothinglikefather 2023-11-02 12:09 pm (UTC)(link)
You've never been to Lambeth, I take it?

[Oh even wrapped up like that, there's something very recognisable about a well-educated English accent. Especially when surrounded by unfamiliar tones, in an unfamiliar and very un-English place.

He really didn't expect the peanut lady to be down in this end of town, but who is he to know what she likes to do when she isn't heckling senators?

The road isn't exactly clean, the cobbles are loose, the stains on them are a mix of salt-water residue and blood. Just like home. He offers her his arm, just in case.]


Where are you headed? Is there a merchant in charge of nut imports?
weifinder: (Default)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-11-02 12:17 pm (UTC)(link)

In this case, it's the dead from the arena or the local graveyards or other such places who have resentment against the Hand or dying in relation to the dark water, but my last night thoughts were "loud forum of the related dead" if these people are so sure they want to ignore one leader of the dead to favour another

Starts the morning making little to no sense! Hear the voices they're ignoring, it's kind of like. Where do they think these dead come from

weifinder: (Default)

[personal profile] weifinder 2023-11-02 05:40 pm (UTC)(link)

... Perfect, he's arranging a protest, thank you so much!

reparo: (defense against the dark arts)

[personal profile] reparo 2023-11-02 06:50 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Ha, no - not been to Lambeth. ] I didn't go further down than Victoria Park, I'm afraid - but it has definitely changed since whenever you're thinking.

[ She hesitates for a moment, then takes his arm and looks around. ] Hah - no. I'm looking for a way into the grain warehouses. You know, the ones the Merchant mentioned?

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