hatthevar | blood rains

[groundrules]

Drawn to undead creator Matthias, the party heads into Hatthevar — former wasteland of myth and superstitions, now city of ghosts.

The first log of Hatthevar spans until 31 January.

A small part of the event is open to players both in and out of the game, who can bring dead characters in the bazaar!

HATTHEVAR

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The party enters blood-rained Hatthevar during a daily one-hour truce between the citadel and the undead forces that assail it. At the gates is undead Lord Rathakku of the Brotherhood, keen to usurp his distracted maker Matthias; in the skies dart the forces of dead wind lord Anurr, who has no love for the Brotherhood.

Hatthevar’s ghostly champions — including enormous ghosts that consume men and floating spirits that strangle with chains — defend the grounds. Matthias neglects the war, persistently summoning spirits from various worlds and points in time to revive them.

KNOCK, KNOCK

Wispy, shadowy silhouettes closely watch the lone gate of Hatthevar. The party infiltrates at sunrise.

Characters who have died, practise necromancy or are death-touched enter freely. The living must consume Karsa’s foul potions that absorb their shadows and partly mute their powers to pass for dead. Holders of Matthias’ severed limbs or organs, or of dark mirror shards or dark water, are closely watched by the dead and perhaps pursued.

Everyone must create new names and stories covering their identity and circumstances of death. Crafty ghost sellers will try to learn your true name to capture you in slavery.

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Spend a few days acquainting Hatthevar, its constant rains, vicious gambling dens, bazaars, oracle halls, wish shops and nests of memory thieves.

Show kindness to the newly revived spirits who struggle to remember themselves and roam in the citadel’s bazaars of curiosities.

Optionally, some characters are struck by misfortune. Capture a crafty, palm-sized spirit rabbit to improve your luck… or stumble upon a larger, dark hopper to ruin it.

Most sleeping quarters are available at downtrodden inns or in lavish gambling dens, for exorbitant prices. You can’t shake the feeling of someone watching through holes in your walls.

MATTHIAS

Three days after arriving, the party receives a note from Matthias that reveals the origins of his pact with the dark water to propagate the dead in Akhuras. Matthias says he has been working to bring the spirit of his dead daughter Cosette through the beacon for revival. She materializes briefly in Hatthevar but disappears before he can find her. Retrieve Cosette, and he will surrender the party his power over the undead.

Full note

” Well, hello! Is it nippy beyond the walls? Not cold here, just… the rain. Tried wishing it away, but… waste of money, those wish shops. Not like, what is it you call it? The dark water? It’s ancient. Back in Ellethia, we thought it came from the sea. All began with a mirror shard. That, and constant pressure to race against decades of Taravast research into curing death. We got there first! That’s… my claim to fame: I wished death gone. It was work. Work ate me. Then, the dead woke up, killed everyone, and there wasn’t much of a profession left. Or of Ellethia. The dark water wants flesh, so… I’ve made it death lords and armies, and I’ve left parts of me to anchor it. In return… it gives me revival. But, look. I had a… daughter. Cosette? Blonde and eyes green and blue and like her mother’s, and only five summers old, but she thought she was so clever, kept telling her doll so. That’s all you’re left with. Memories. She died, of course. I’ve been working to resurrect her, and her spirit shows up every few days in Hatthevar. She disappears before I can find her. I’m not… good at bargaining. I’m a magical engineer, really. Tinkerer! But my time’s running short, isn’t it? Just look outside. And all I want is Cosette. You want the beacons? Have them. You can have my power whole. I’ll give it. Some of you will need to help hold the walls up, and others might want to look into the funny business in the lagoon, if it’s linked at all to Cosette, though I doubt it. But, truly. Bring me Cosette, and the deed’s done. You can have everything.”

The Merchant distrusts Matthias’ proposal, but sees potential leverage and urges the party to investigate the girl and the lagoon. From here onward, everyone heads to their assignment:

COMBAT

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Assigned: Bucky Barnes, Carol Danvers, Deimos, Emilia, Jiang Cheng, Luffy, Natasha Romanoff, Nynaeve, Stephen Strange, Wrath, Wrathion, Zoro

The first line of defence against the swarming undead, you must hold off swathes of enemies across three territories:

THE WALLS

Despairingly tall and uncomfortably narrow, overseen by Matthias’ ghostly cannibal titans, who neglect to discern between friend or foe in their broad, relentless strikes. Blood rains pour down thick and nearly blinding. From the skies, you face the frost-breathing 10-15 meter-tall wyrms of undead blizzard lord Anurr, unaffiliated with the Brotherhood. Stick together: when alone, Anurr’s winds speak to you of your deepest doubts and fears, compelling you to surrender — or to let go of restraint, briefly berserk, and attack your own.

■ Serthica survivors may call their dragons to assist. Through Jon Snow, the party can also summon the giant, but slow and poor-sighted frost dragon Irenia to help on three occasions.

THE COLD PLAINS

Just outside of Hatthevar sprawls a desert-like cold plateau, where treacherous dunes shift to swallow you whole and the bestial forces of the Brotherhood’s most capable undead general, Rathakku, hide in wait. Hard-shelled, slippery and sleek his creatures lie buried and thrust up their arm-rows of hundreds of blades that cut into the legs of passers-by, drawing them into sand.

THE UNDERPASS

A series of subterranean tunnels connects Hatthevar with the cold sand outposts. Scour the myriad of dusty, tunnels and purge it of large scorpion-human hybrids that carry multiple weapons and whose sting leave men hallucinating. Oversized serpents abound, their venom prone to paralyzing their prey. You can make or procure antidote potions from Hathevar. Matthias’ ghostly titans are closing off all tunnel entrances to Hatthevar — don’t end up sealed in on the wrong side.

! Collectively, the party must kill at least one frost wyrm, one scorpion/serpent and one sand lurker to keep all three levels safe. Turn in your threads before 28 January… or let the citadel suffer in part II.

EXECUTION

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Assigned: Five, Lockwood, Mo Ran, Vanessa, Yelena, Wen Kexing, Zhou Zishu

Your objective is to locate Matthias and secure the beacons that are currently in heavy use. Securing one or more beacons will help you get home.

■ Your best bet for intelligence are the treacherous networks of underground memory thieves and slavers, who attempt to steal your freedom or your recollections.

■ Your next option is the gang of Erkul, who ruled over local oracles and Hatthevar whole before Matthias’ arrival. Coarse, slippery but cunning, Erkul sullenly nurses his weight in wine at the gilded Sanctuary, Hatthevar’s foremost gambling den. Street sources say the establishment’s passcode each day this month is a fruit name. Erkul’s crew sell highly potent opiates.

■ Ransack some Whispering houses for information, equipment, poison or arsenal. Small, dusty, cluttered and often creaking, Whispering houses hold a wealth of dangerous artefacts, from haunting poltergeists you might accidentally release by reading out their names from tomes to flying rope that throttles you. Large dread hounds instil blood-curdling fear in anyone who looks into their eyes.

■ The five beacons of Hatthevar are only briefly active each day as Matthias makes his summons. They are guarded by swarms of colossal leonine-shadow creatures that only attack if they feel any fear in your soul (of it, or anything else), pouncing to claw and shred you apart. To claim a beacon, Karsa may provide a cold, coal-like token that must be placed in the middle of the transport dais, within inevitable sight of the shadow lions. You must wait 15 minutes in place for the token to take root. Report your conquest before 28 January!

■ Every six hours, Matthias sends ravens to check on the shadow-lions. You must either trick them, leave the lions alive or capture the ravens.

CARE

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Assigned: Allison, Eda, Hermione, Kamala, Lan Sizhui, Sanji, Winnie

Carer’s have the lion’s share of all duties — and the party’s few lingering resources. You must look after the group and the ghosts of Hatthevar: meandering, disoriented and fragile, the spirits who were freshly wrenched from death’s snare become easy prey for the Undead Brotherhood, the elements and the ghost slavers. Rescuing or attending vulnerable spirits can gain you allies.

■ comfort ghosts who recover from revival or struggle with their memories. Many are stranded in the Whispering houses or chained into servitude in the gambling dens.

■ rescue spirits from the immense slaver clan of Ras’Kalur, which tricks newly summoned, dazed spirits in the bazaars to sign away their freedom, promising someone to look after them. Ras’Kalur’s people often raid streets and shelters, forcibly dragging spirits back into their camps at the outskirts of Hatthevar.

■ barter to rent or buy abandoned taverns to give the party a resting space during their stay in Hatthevar. You may need to pay locals in favours, from helping them carry out petty acts of revenge to making up with a grudge-bearing wife or paying penance to their ancestors.

■ heal, cook and provide for combatants on the walls, taking care not to fall in the crossfire or frost wyrms or of allied but negligent 12-feet ghostly titans.

■ as the least suspicious party members, negotiate for information or supplies on behalf of the group: make friends with gambling den owners and the two-bit shady crooks who know their daily passcodes to enter, or with the regulars of the Whispering houses.

INVESTIGATION

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Assigned: Ben Hargreeves, Benedict, Caitlyn, Cal Kestis, Jon Snow, Merrin, Nami, Rin, River Song, Wei Wuxian, Wen Qing

■ You know from Matthias that, as a result of his beacon summons, the spirit of his daughter Cosette appears every fifth day in Hatthevar for a few hours at midday. Despite this, a young girl matching Matthias’ description (5-6 years of age, green-blue eyes, blonde, prone to laughter) is never seen. Matthias alerts you whenever Cosette appears.

■ Day of first appearance: Matthias feels her presence in the bazaar, where the day’s main attraction is a puppet show that draws a heavy crowd. At midday, a chime sounds, and the puppet show performs the sad story of a daughter quarrelling with her father over his absences. The daughter-puppet flees into the woods, while the puppet-father refuses to reconcile and follow her. The girl is killed by animals, and the puppet-father grieves, heartbroken. All the women or girls in the crowd, including you, find they burst into tears.

■ Day of the second appearance: Matthias senses Cosette is in the alley of Whispering Houses. You notice the typical bustle of the alley and shady movements, as discreet, embarrassed, or desperate patrons scuttle. You see no small girls but hear of three trades that took place at the Whispering Houses, carried out by different women: one bought a memory, one sold one, one had a memory replaced. Pay for a memory trade to learn more.

■ Day of the third appearance: Matthias feels Cosette near the Oracle Hall. The hour passes by the time you climb the stairs and are received. The Oracle confirms only one person has visited — a blonde woman — and says to “tell your master that an hourglass keeps track of new time, but can’t give the old one back.”

You get three clue questions/character and should communicate with fellow investigators. Please share key findings by network before 25 January!

EXPLORATION

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Assigned: America Chavez, Buggy, Connor, Elayne Trakand, Lan Wangji, Licyn, Red, Wen Ning

The river Liu neatly divides Hatthevar, its clean waters progressively darkening towards the edges of the citadel, where they pour into a vast, serene and heavily misted lagoon. Veterans sense an eerie chill from the familiar dark waters that so often accompany the undead.

Like Matthias, Karsa says a strange power sleeps at the heart of the lagoon.

■ travel by raft with a companion through the lethargy-inducing fog, as tar-like people peer up from the waters or swim below, never quite attacking you unless you fall into water. They (and the currents) try to upturn your boat.

■ Scattered lit candles drift on water as you advance. Pick one up, and you find one of the floating creatures of Hatthevar has joined your raft, carrying a rope-chain. It says it and its kind are former oracles and truth-speakers of the citadel — and urges you to speak, pledging to kill the first person who lies before you leave water.

■ Farther out, you discover four half-sunken ships that have crashed into each other over time, their decks now forming a rocky square-like structure. You can carefully navigate your raft to reach this construct, or make your way by hopping onto floating deck parts and the debris of other rafts.

■ Once aboard the square structure, you find all the decks are heavily rotten, creaking and prone to collapse. You hear a maddening, shrill scream that steals control of your now convulsing body, until you find yourself driven closer and closer to the end of a plank or a deck hole against your wishes — unless you are physically detained until the shrieking ends.Sharp-toothed mermaids swim below.

■ Reach and explore the curious ships’ graveyard, to peer into the black well in the middle of the square infrastructure.

QUESTIONS

NPC INBOX

Comments

exploration ► shrieking

[downswing]

( Smear of mildew on his cheek where his fall breaks, face first, on a deck rattled by vibration. The screams cut, bloom. His fingers nearly break on the wood, nails pinning.

Then, he starts to move, limbs artless as they fight the lock of his joints and knuckles, all of his strength of will opposing the advance. He cannot — shifts and fumbles, like an animal, on hands and knees, onward, onward, to the waiting relief of an —

Abyss. No, a hole in the deck, farther out, but within sight’s reach. The boom of sound bolsters just as the mists part, and he feels himself crawl further, until luck favours him, and he crashes into the root of a mast that stays him. He thinks, even as his hands fight him, to stop it and unwinds the sashes of his robes, wrapping, teeth gritting, a wide spread of silk around his head, his ears. It does not mute the shriek completely, but stabs through the song with increments of clarity.

He is not alone. Teeth gritting — and the pain anchors him — he barely turns around to hold out one end of his second fluttering sash, half mouthing, half screaming: )

Bind your ears!

[damnable]

Fuck. Okay!

( It's shouted back. The sound is so loud down to her marrow, down to her spirit, down to the other part of her, but she's grateful for the help because she doesn't think she has the willpower to push past this force and reach into her bag for anything else that might do the job. She grabs hold of the other half of the sash, and then starts to do the same.

Her body presses against some broken railing, and she's wrapped one leg around it to keep her in place when the rest of her wants to go into the water, the ancient beast inside of her wants to obey as always.

But she fights against it, teeth gritting, as she wraps the sash around her face, her ears with shaky hands. )

Thank you!

[downswing]

( He nearly does not hear her — sees her mouth the words, the screams mounting, climbing, overwhelming. Some part of him, nails dug in either deck boards or the mast, feels nauseous for the noise that overwhelms like an angered storm.

It lasts forever. It must have been two heartbeats.

He struggles, crawls, but starts to move, hands and knees and no shred of shame as he clutches to every rail and chain along the way toward Red. Balance seems a fickle, ambitious prospect. No reason to attempt it.

He tries to speak at first. Blinks, first wet then excessively dry, when it strikes him that his voice is failing him, rasped and dry. He pushes his, vocal cords raw, as if he has lost the capacity to sound out his volume. It will come back, he remembers — from war, from arrows flying around him. )

Can — you. Advance? Again?

( Apologies for your ears again, Red, as he moves between whispers and shouting. )

[damnable]

( This is one of those times when being an ancient otherwordly being comes in handy. She can channel that strength into herself. Even if it's only for a limited amount of time, she can hope it buys them enough time to make it. She's more than old enough to have gotten a handle on accessing those powers like a second skin by now without risk of transformation.

She lifts a hand to give him a thumbs up to indicate she can definitely advance, but before she does that, she picks up a too heavy piece of debris. If she starts to feel like either of them are getting controlled again, she can hopefully use that super strength to shove it in their way and prevent them from heading into the water since it seems like it was only the debris that saved them before.

Water is bad in this instance, and most instances within this world.

With this shield in hand, she starts to find a place to move to next, careful to keep the scarf around her, to not go so far ahead that it rips away from her completely. This is fine - just like an old fashioned three-legged race except their faces are tied together and not their legs. )

[downswing]

( This... is entirely unusual, utterly unorthodox, deplorably cumbersome.

It is also, he understands, aligning himself behind Red so that she might position the shield-debris against sound and currents, brilliant.

Some part of him, carrying a burden of protection and misplaced masculinity to the bitter last, considers offering assistance with the — artefact she carries single-handedly, for both their benefit. But then, it is never wise to intercede between a woman and her protection.

A few paces later, the decks begin to rattle, shaking, threatening more sound — only to settle, warning cast. He slips down, first to his knees, then clumsily to his belly, upheld largely by his elbows as he crosses the distance, crawling, approaching the first deep ruptures of wood.

He thinks, at first, peering in, he sees nothing but the waters that wait below. Then, slight movement. Rippling. A glint of... fin, then one of fangs, and — )

...sirens. ( In his experience, prior, not good. ) Likely sharp fanged. The holes in the deck will be our menace.

( As they are likeliest to be called down through them.

How charming that so many of them are littering the bloody deck. )

[damnable]

Of course. ( It's said when Wanji points it out to her. ) Sirens have been causing problems since ancient times.

( Red makes a face at the sight of those sirens with their fangs and fins - unsurprising ultimately given sound itself is what seems to make them act against their own wills. In her own world, she knew of sirens as more half woman, half bird creatures, but the singing part to lure those to their doom? That's basically the same.

The sound of their call is so loud. She makes note of all the holes, and as they attempt to navigate the space, she can feel her willpower fighting it, fighting against this call. She pauses, breathless, setting the debris in front of them both, but there's holes on all sides. )

It's a godsdamned trap! ( It's hissed out loudly. One of the mermaids swipes up with its claws from inside of the hole that they're a little too close to to try to grab hold, and she shouts - the shout reverberates with ancient power, enough to shake the debris they're currently perched precariously on: ) Fuck off siren asshole! ( The hand retreats again. For now. )

[downswing]

( It is a game, for a few heartbeats: to jump on the lattice of debris and narrowly avoid holes, to simply mind their steps and keep their ears bound and navigate, somehow, the land of deadly opportunities. As children might.

Only the sires resume screeching, and the vibration of their call rattle the decks to reveal the infrastructure was always prone to crumbling, and there are more and more holes as the wood gives way. Red has the right of it — it's a trap, as more of the decks tremble undone, and Lan Wangji's foot initially falls through the rags of wood, where siren arms wait — he pulls out, then away, and Red.

Red screams.

And all is silent, for one blissful moment of sheer, unbridled horror across the decks.

He does not waste it, searching the grounds for any sign of a structure the sirens cannot afford to decimate without bringing the rest of the ship down upon themselves — and finds it, a little farther, then west. )

The next mast —

( He should, in theory, attempt to either steer or carry Red there, to escort her. He settles for shoulder checking Red toward it, his own footing again confused, as he tries to head to their destination.

This... is not playing out as he'd intended. Not at all. )

[damnable]

( Red eyes the mast he's shoulder checked her toward with a grimace, but it seems like he's still not moving toward it himself, and she doesn't want to abandon him. She doesn't think it's wise to abandon him, because he might just go over the side or she could. It's not like her ability to fight against this is any better. She's only fighting it at all because he's helped her to muffle the sound from her head. )

We gotta tie ourselves together better and go forward. Shit.

( She shoves the debris down, wedging it between two planks in the ship they're precariously on at the moment. Then she takes off her jacket and hands him one of the sleeves of it. )

Tie it around you as tight as possible, and I'll do the same with the other side. That way if one of us goes over, the other can pull them back.

( It's hard to say how much she can even be heard at the moment, but since they don't have any rope (and any rope that might have come with these ships has likely long since deteriorated if the wood itself is struggling to hold together), this seems to be the next best option. )

[downswing]

( This is — crude, a woman baring herself for him, while layers of Lan Wangji's own robes have been obscenely parted. Let no matchmaker or gossip watch or speak of this, their reputations hereby tattered.

The instruction is lost to wind, if unnecessary. Some things are past gleaning.

He takes the cloth, hissing as another — whistling from below resumes, and he fears the call like an all-consuming sickness. The sleeve would not fit to fetter his waist, but he wraps it around his left arm gamely, tight when he draws it with hand and teeth. The right hand holds the sword.

They crawl, together, just as the sirens seem to desperately begin their song, only to — ...fall suddenly, deafeningly silent. They are yet a short distance from the mast, more so from the strange well that seems to call them.

He hears the batting of fish fins below, then distant. Tentatively: )

Have they... fled?

[damnable]

( It's such a slow process to move against the song, to have to pause and hold on to the tether that keeps the both of them together as one or the other of them are drawn to the holes again. And again. There should be relief when it all turns silent. Her ears are still ringing, but it's not- There's no relief. Red lifts her head, shakes it, but winces at the way that feels.

She breathes out in the silence and then: )

In my experience, if something scary's fled, it's because there's something bigger and scarier around.

( That's not good. Her gaze is drawn then to the well then with a grimace. )

You think it's that? ...the thing that scares them?

[downswing]

( He does not wish to answer.

In truth, he does not wish to know, dread spreading poisoned and cavernous in the trove between his ribs with sickly, biting certainty. Whatever waits in the well is either beloved or tragic, and neither of these two things will mean an easier time of reaching it. He has learned this much.

No matter. He tugs, so that they might proceed towards it, come what may, their feet fumbling, and in the sudden excess of his zeal — and while overestimating his balance — he ends up squarely propelling himself far too close to the deck's nearby, crumbling railing.

It does not break with him. That is the good news.

The less advantageous observation comes when his gaze casts beyond the ship, and he sees the sirens didn't flee the scene below — they moved around the hull and, taking advantage of the high tide, are now attempting to use the ropes cast over the ship to board it, while the waters allow them. )

It was not a new threat. ( He hisses and starts them toward the well again. ) But an opportunity. Run.

( ...well, at least they're making their way to the well at a much prompter pace than he'd initially anticipated. )

[damnable]

( When Wangji nearly goes over the side, Red plants herself down on top of the deck with all her strength to keep from being hauled over with him, to keep him on the piece of deck he's found. Her ancient well of strength only lasts so long before it goes - comes and goes over and over again. Her gaze moves where his does when it does, and she sees what he means.

They haven't run at all. Of course not. That would be too easy. )

Fuck.

( So she runs when he says to, singing a song in her head to keep any other sound out, and rushing to the well - whatever might lie there. It's the reason for the whole journey. They can't leave without it. She scales several of the remaining obstacles, scrapes her knees and arms along the way, jumps and hauls him with her, utilizing every last ounce of Cerberus up until she makes it to the well.

Her hands clasp at the sides of it breathlessly as she peers inside. )

[downswing]

( He holds the pace. Later, it will strike him that, all along, this is all that was required of him — to match her, so that at least one of them might achieve their objective. For the second part of their assignment, as Red collects a... string of beads, colours dark and clashing and strange, it is Lan Wangji who must call his courage. Who must devise some manner of recourse, as he starts carefully to unsheathe his sword and...

...not wield it. Not precisely. But force it to hover before him, to the level of his knee, rigid and waiting. No Opal, this, but a permissible substitute, on days when winds do not batter them into the ground. )

Do you fear flight?

( Far too high above an uncertain terrain, ghouls and sirens only waiting for them to drop. A wonderful proposition. Lan Wangji too would spit upon it, if they were not on the brink of encirclement. )

[damnable]

( Red's head hurts at the glimpses of memories that fill her mind all at once when she peers into the water. At this point, she's been fighting against this sound that has been telling her to obey for so long that she can do nothing but obey this time when the well beckons her to touch it. She does, reaching out with a shaky hand, picking up the beads that are formed by her touch so strangely. It's like a well of memories. She is still sorting through the memories in her head as she keeps hold of the pearls in one hand as tight as she can.

If they lose these, they lose the whole reason they went through all of that to get here, and she's gonna hope like the hells it was worth something. She's still breathless. Her head still hurts when Wangji's sword begins to... float, and she stares at it.

Fly on... that? )

There's not much that scares me anymore.

...how though? ( Do they fly on that? )