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

Threaded | Flat

Divorce rate is 32.46% lower among couples who stab Caesar together.

Senatorial unrest is more like a side hustle.

[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]

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 )

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! )

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. )

( ooc: if the below don't work, also open to wildcards or to putting up more scenarios, just shout o/ )

i. incense: the betrayal

[ He dons white for this task. Plain, serviceable, simple. The robes make him think of death, of Chu Wanning, of the five years he wandered after Chu Wanning's death and rebirth, when he adopted the robes of his former mentor.

When he approaches the temple, he keeps his head lowered, masks his gait into something simple and humble. The incense burns his nose, and he recoils briefly. Reconsiders, thoughts evident in his eyes. It's strong enough that he thinks back to the pleasure house and the girls he knew, the one he was trapped with—

You killed her. Had she not befriended you, she would have been fine. They would have left her alone. You killed her, just like you killed your shizun.

"Shut up," he snaps under his breath, and then closes his eyes, realizing he just insulted his companion. Not what he wanted to do there. ]

Sorry. You can keep talking. [ a brief pause as he reconsiders. ]

Actually, just let me talk. To the priests. We're pilgrims, okay?

[ He's all hastily whispered words, and before his companion can protest, Mo Ran has an arm around them, guiding them toward one of the guards near the entrance to the Halls of the Sleeper.

He can play a devout pilgrim. Five years of penance taught him something. Mo Ran bows to the guard, more formal than necessary, and keeps it for a beat longer than he should. ]

This humble pilgrim and his companion seek entrance to pray to the Chained God. [ He doesn't know what he'd pray to this god for, but Mo Ran has long since abandoned any hope of his prayers being heard. There is no one less deserving of such things.

But he wants to face this god. They need to stop him from awakening, and Mo Ran can do that. He thinks.

Possibly. ]

Please, we humbly beg you.

[ A few more lines, begging and beseeching for entry, staying as humble as he can while doing so. He's good at it, managing to sound sincere and contrite as he speaks.

As though anything you do is humble, Taxian-jun. Emperor of the Cultivation world, begging for entrance to a temple. What a joke you've become.

He grits his teeth against the whispers, and dares to look at the guard, who looks listless, almost bored. He waves them in. ] Yeah, alright, you can go.

[ It feels too simple, but Mo Ran is not one to look too deeply at such things. He murmurs his thanks and then drags his companion to the entrance. The scent of incense chases them, close on their heels. ]

Did they give us a map?

ii. wildcard

[ I am happy to write other starters for other scenarios, if anyone is interested, and also personalized starters for anyone who wants a specific betrayal. Hit me up in the discord, via PM or plurk! ]

i. wealth whispers | doing crimes

[Past experience has taught Caitlyn that she's not very skilled at going undercover, and that she's even worse at seducing men. So there are only two options if she wants to speak with Maximilian Hawk: break in undetected, or present herself at the front door and demand to see him.

She's in full Hand uniform with a forged letter from Narula stating that she is to have access to the premises on Hand business. Whether that will work or not, she's not sure. But there's only one way to find out.

She takes a deep breath and, with the stiff posture of someone who knows they're doing something wrong and would very much like everyone to avoid noticing them, approaches the door.]

ii. wealth whispers | gambling

[How Caitlyn ended up here, in a seedy den of iniquity, playing a game she doesn't entirely understand the rules of against a whale wearing a hat, even she herself isn't quite sure. She's doing her best to follow a trail of information, and it has, unfortunately, led her here.

She misses Vi every day, but never quite so much as when she's in a situation like this. Everything about her screams 'rich girl that accidentally wandered off the beaten path' and without someone more savvy watching her back, everyone in this place is eyeing her like she's a walking bag of money just waiting to be robbed.]

Red?

[She's never seen a whale roll its eyes before.

She turns to the person next to her and asks quietly,] Do I need to bet on a specific number?

iii. incense

[Can you trust them? You trust too easily. She can almost feel the voice clawing its way through her mind, tendrils under her skull, squeezing, a headache waiting to happen. Trust kills.

Heart in her throat, gut clenching, Caitlyn continues downward, far too aware of the weight of her rifle, snugly concealed in its case, against her back as she watches her companion walk ahead of her.]

It can't be much farther to walk.

[Her voice echoes uncomfortably off the stone.

How much farther until they stab you in the back? a voice whispers inside her head.]

iv. wildcard

[Feel free to wildcard me! If you'd like to plot, my plotting comment is here.]c

i. wealth whispers

[Elayne approaches the outskirts of Tibras clad in the simplest garb she could find, no bright colours or fine cuts to draw attention. Though her bearing is unmistakably that of the nobility, she stays quiet, keeps her eyes down, moves around anyone she encounters, doing at least a passable job at being unobtrusive. A young woman capable of channeling has all sorts of options to break into a secure building, but the easiest, she thinks, will be disguising herself as a servant. Not many people notice servants, after all. They're as invisible as the furniture, to some.

Once she arrives at her destination, she peers cautiously around the corner towards the door. Guarded, of course. Only by one man. She could deal with him, if it came to a confrontation. Hopefully it won't.

She approaches the door.]

ii. the floors

[Rumor has it that Senator Quintus Aurelius has been accepting bribes in exchange for his votes. If Elayne can obtain proof, it shouldn't be difficult to leverage his vote.

Quintus is hosting a little party this evening - an uninteresting affair, full of people who don't seem to know the first thing about ruling or care for it beyond how much money it can make them. Not at all the sorts of people who spent hours memorizing the characteristics of each region of their realms. Still, Elayne moves through it with relative ease, until she finds her opening to slip away towards Quintus' private quarters.

This is where the ease stops: a locked door.

She probably should have seen this coming. But in her defense, she's never broken into anyone's private quarters to rifle through their financial documents before.]

iii. incense

Keep your head down. Don't draw attention to us. [She doesn't wait for her companion to keep up, walking purposefully past groups of priests and guards towards the hallways leading downwards.

Why should anyone listen to what you say?

Elayne stops, glancing around for any possible culprit. But there's no one near enough to have whispered in her ear.]

Did you hear that?

iv. wildcard

[Feel free to wildcard me! If you'd like to plot, my plotting comment is here.]

[ open & closed starts below. wildcards welcome or reach out via plurk or dm if you'd like to plot out something. ]

( open & closed starters below, i have a plotting comment up with some ideas, but also generally ota! feel free to hit me in the discord or

iothe if you wanna talk through anything. )

WEALTH WHISPERS

BURIAL GROUNDS

[ Tonight, Tykhe's eyes take the form of a pair of water-smoothed river rocks. They are still wet, dripping like the ghost's own fallen tears, and Yelena tracks her by the sound of fat freshwater droplets hitting the ground.

Theft was her original intent, hence the distance she keeps, scoping out her mark. But the more she sees of Tykhe, the more uneasy she feels about leaving the spirit to blindly roam these haunted grounds. By the time she finally puts together what— or rather who— Tykhe seeks, Yelena is invested. Nothing like a dead sister to pull at the heartstrings.

She starts to rise, ready to approach the ghost and offer assistance, when the sound of leaves crunching under footsteps alerts her to a new presence. Reluctantly, Yelena turns her back on the ghost to assess the newcomer. Hopefully it is another member of her party and not someone she'll have to compete with for the eyes. Some competition might be fun, but it would likely come at the expense of helping Tykhe. ]

GAMBLING NEST

[ Yelena has her sights on the poker table, already making her way in that direction when the idea strikes. It's risky, but if the stakes are proportional to the reward, the other games would pale in comparison.

She takes her seat as cards are being shuffled for a new game and produces her gun, setting it down on the tabletop before her. ]

Have you ever played Russian roulette?

WILDCARD

[ OOC: Choose your own adventure! Yelena has a healthy allowance to be spent on bribes or other things, feel free to seek her out for funding. Reach out with any ideas/questions/etc. via PM or cosmology. ]

[ I'm late with starbucks: hit me up via PM or here! ]

[open and closed prompts below.]

[ Prompts below. Wildcards welcome, reach out via pm or at

oopsallsadboys to brainstorm something! ]

Threaded | Flat

QUESTIONS

CLUES AND TURN-INS

hermione granger (harry potter)