bygones be bygones

[groundrules]

BYGONES BE BYGONES

---

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Welcome to the finale log event, stretching until 22 February. You can find a summary of recent events here. The finale log is broken in four sections:

■ Anurr’s attempt to enter Hatthevar by corrupting party members

■ The citadel’s increasing hauntings and abductions (largely CR-building scenarios)

■ Investigating a ghost ship, for final clues

■ The fall of undead creator Matthias

Thank you for being here & enjoy!

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WALLS, WAILING

The tide of war are turning: his scorpions and sand lurkers defeated by Emilia, Wrath and Benedict, the undead Brotherhood’s foremost general, Rathakku, pulls back his armies. A handful of monstrous creatures remain and will grudgingly serve the trio as their new masters.

Wind master Anurr, foe of the Brotherhood and its maker Matthias, continues assaulting the citadel with ceaseless blizzards. Those exposed to the storms may hear dark or saccharine voices that corrupt, threaten or woo them to open one of the four (north/west/south/east) gates of the citadel and allow Anurr’s forces inside.

■ Those prone to loneliness, despair or self-doubt are the most vulnerable to Anurr’s coercion and can easily turn aggressive, if anyone attempts to prevent them from their goal. A burning need to free the winds and a hatred of Hatthevar overwhelm you, while Matthias’ very name sets you off in a rage.

■ Those coerced are invulnerable to Anurr’s blizzards and the broader cold but highly susceptible to heat and flame. Their skin turns pale, limbs stiff and nearly gelid. They are slower but much stronger, and their touch can chill. They must be warmed — either by fire-side or trapped into heated rooms — to regain control of themselves. It may take up to 48 hours before they’re fully back to normal, waking up at night with a longing to walk into the wind.

■ The gates of Hatthevar remain guarded by enormous man-eating ghosts, but these sentinels have been worn down by war and are more easily overcome. Pass them and your companions and open the gates — and you will win Anurr a healthy advantage.

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A HAUNTED PLACE

Two of Matthias’ beacons have been conquered by Vanessa, Wrathion and Five, who retain them as long as they stay along. Inevitably, they are often hunted by spirits.

Not realizing why his summons have weakened, Matthias directs more and more energy towards the three beacons under his control. The turbulence agitates the spirits of Hatthevar, who become secretive, paranoid, prickly and increasingly riotous.

■ Some scatter quickly as they see you — others gang up, mutinously targeting ghost slavers or anyone who reminds them of those who wronged them when they were alive. Hauntings multiply, while ghost slavers take advantage of the riots to conquer parts of Hatthevar.

PART & WHOLE

Combative crowds, often led by ghost slavers, are especially drawn to characters who own any of Matthias’ limbs or organs. Promised rewards, they seek to abduct such owners or anyone unlucky enough to be mistaken for them, dragging them to decrepit, barely standing and abandoned Whispering Houses while they barter payment from Matthias.

■ Ghosts are fiercely attentive but also superstitious watchmen: spook them, organise a rescue party or sneak out.

■ Watching the walls, you see ink brush paintings of the silhouettes of men, their beady eyes sometimes shifting to look at you. At other times, their limbs seem to shift minutely, as they begin to run towards you, until shadow men burst out of the wall to detain you. They pull back, if you also stop moving.

■ Those who possess Matthias’ parts may find ghosts are unusually submissive to them. Their tokens will likely get seized, if they are captured.

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TROUBLED

Hatthevar succumbs to hauntings, friendly or foul. On any given day, you might experience:

■ THE BURIALS: Come morning, your shoes might be missing, buried in the nearest dirt patch — or you yourself might be entombed in the gardens, forced to dig yourself out before you suffocate. The crystalline sound of chiming bells can lead rescuers to you. Ghostly hands might try to hold onto you, if you are dragged out.

■ THE FACELESS: Lithe faceless dancers dart through the crowds of the ghostly bazaars, carrying demonic wooden masks that they place on the faces of stunned passers-by, fleeing thereafter. The victims now look like the demonic masks, while the masks have copied their likeness. If this happens to you, run after the faceless dancers, steal the mask and put it back on your face to recover your original appearance.

■ THE WATCH: Walking through the streets of Hatthevar, you find yourself visibly, unmistakably watched by an increasing number of people. First, they only steal glances; then, one or two point you out; small groups begin to whisper about you; finally, you notice whole crowds are standing eerily still, watching you covetously and seemingly struggling to keep themselves back from assaulting you.

MASTER GAO’S HUMBLE HOUSE

Least said, soonest enjoyed of Hatthevar’s new fashion of culinary delights. Amid a pick-up in crime, the street food vendors disperse, leaving behind a smattering of secluded establishments drenched in dizzying incense and patroned by… ethereal diners.

Master Gao’s family restaurant promises a once-in-a-lifetime experience, amid ghosts, ghouls and the monstrously dead. Take a seat at a private table, where you are treated to a pleasantly sweet, liquorice brew — then informed politely that you have been lethally poisoned and will die within two hours. Already, you feel your body feverish, overly stimulated, your thoughts given to wonder.

Focus, focus: the antidote, says the listless waitress, is in one of the numerous incoming dishes. A game to focus you on enjoying your meal. Even one bite will heal you.

THE MENU

Still on the fence? Reviewers say:

★★★★☆ Came for the bao buns, stayed for the screams of endless agony.
★★★★★ most places on lotus street went to the hell dogs, master’s gao stays lit, the demon bacon’s sizzle drizzle
★★☆☆☆ Two stars for the incredible heart of virgin sacrifice, cooked al dente. But this will be our last visit, after unprofessional staff treated us as if we were at our first cannibal rites.
★★★★☆ Hand-made blood pasta, rolled like grandma used to make.

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THE HEADLESS DANCER

Five and Wen Kexing share that word on the street is Matthias has favoured two hideaways. The most widely known one, where you are headed first, is the Headless Dancer: a ghost ship that appears on nights of the full moon in the misty lagoon near Hatthevar. Half-sunken and ragged, the Headless Dancer appears like a conglomerate of titans’ bones, carved and welded together. It is a proper sea vessel, atypical to sail through a lagoon.

Your objective is to search the ship for any sign of Matthias.

■ As the vessel passes, you hear a staggered, loud rattling: the chattering teeth of the skull heads that shape the ship’s hull. These hungry mouths reach to crush and gnaw you, if you fall in the waters close to the ship.

■ A pirate crew is hard at work to keep the vessel afloat. At first, the men appear normal, but their skeletal, corpse-like appearance is revealed when they come under moonlight.

■ Many crew members ignore you, chained to each other and the deck and condemned to perform their tasks while singing their ol’ song. Only the captain speaks liberally: cursing, whipping his men and carrying a bundle of chains as he makes his rounds. Hide — at times helped or betrayed by crew members — or risk getting chained down by the captain, your powers entirely muted until you are released.

■ Midway through your visit, the ship sails back into the fog, beneath a strange wave of clouds shaped like enormous fish and sea life . Spears and chains that resemble fish spines plunge down to pin the ship in place: they fly across the deck, at times skewering and stabbing crew members. Take cover or jump overboard.

■ After a few moments, the spear-chains latch onto the vessel’s sides, turning it over and submerging into the lagoon. Instead of sinking, the Headless Dancer breaks water, once again upright… in strange new sides (the ‘Other Side’) in the middle of an intensely violent storm of blood. The previously skeletal crew and captain are now fully human and are struggling desperately to keep the ship from sinking, despite furious winds and the vessel taking substantial amounts of water. You understand quickly this is an illusion or memory of some kind: there is no saving the ship. Spend the last few minutes before the Headless Dancer sinks trying to stay afloat and search the captain and main passengers’ cabin for clues. Within 20 minutes, you hear the mast of the Headless Dancer give way, while the rapidly flooding of the hull causes the ship to break in half. You fall unconscious, waking up battered but alive in the real-world shores of Hatthevar, the splinters of the Headless Dancer’s deck stuck beneath your nails.

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HE BLEEDS

Following our latest vote, the People have overwhelmingly chosen that undead creator Matthias will die.

Carrying out the plan is open to everyone, whether you did or didn’t get involved with the voting — jump in freely!

Matthias will be discovered in the second lair location uncovered by Five and Wen Kexing — the Whispering House of Hatthevar’s foremost wish maker, the Red Lady. He dwells on the first floor, which has been turned into an immense room decked in dark mirrors, whose windows have been entirely barricaded.

There are two types of mirrors: some show you exactly what you most wish to see, progressively captivating you while rapidly depleting your stamina and vitality, until you are reduced to dried husks and bones within the hour.

Looking into the second type of mirror, your character sees a person of tar that reaches out to touch them until their hand exits the glass. Upon contact, your character is overcome by a feeling of intense, spreading coldness, as if their insides are being infested by a rapidly propagating alien creature. They may feel its highly primitive, emotion-led thoughts: a jumble of jealousy, the wish to have a shape and manifest, hatred that your body is not malleable, fear, hunger. The creature takes your body over within the hour.

You can escape both types of mirrors if you cover them, do not look into them, or if someone breaks the thrall (by taking your attention away from the mirror or by physically removing you).

Matthias is often away from his hideaway, giving you valuable time to plot and tinker.

Killing him will involve:

■ Scouting the Whispering House. The Red Lady, a powerful sorceress, is unlikely to allow intruders to go where they please inside her home. But the ‘I’m just a poor wish maker, looking for the bathroom’ excuse is a time honoured classic!

■ Using Matthias’ severed limbs and organs to reduce his power: this can be done by destroying the parts. Fire will do the trick.

■ Setting down traps (tentacly or otherwise!) in Matthias’ quarters to detain him.

■ Creating an illusion or shapeshifting someone to look like Matthias’ daughter Cosette and distract him, when he returns.

■ Feeding Matthias a memory potion that will force him to remember his part in Cosette’s demise.

■ Killing him. Per RNG gods, Emilia gets the dubious honour of delivering the killing blow (most likely, with help from a special tool obtained from the Headless Dancer). Everyone else is still free to char, sting, entrap or force feed memories to Matthias!

Since several people might get involved, it’s probably logistically easier if you play out prep work or threads in groups of no more than 2-3 and assume other party members are around.

You can either NPC Matthias yourselves in your threads or ask for mod involvement.

Note: everyone who threads out any of the events of Matthias’ capture or demise can “inherit” some of his power over undeath once he is killed. Your character will then have to choose what they do with this power (keep, transfer or disperse it).

QUESTIONS

Comments

hermione granger (harry potter)

[reparo]

Here are some options for where to find Hermione, and what to find her doing. Leave a comment asking for which setting, and I can provide a starter - or bring your own if you've got an idea! (P.S. Fire is not optional.)

a. In Part & Whole - run into Hermione, get nearly caught by and then Apparated out of the way of the inky shadow creatures; bonus, you can hold her hand. (Hardmode: you can throw up on her shoes.)

b. In Troubled - lend her a hand, this hole is terribly moist (I am doing this on purpose) and someone buried her halfway into it before giving up. Possibly the hair was too much to try and cover with dirt.

c. On the Headless Dancer - help, or be helped by, this intrepid private investigator to find clues while wondering how much compartmentalisation can a woman possibly do, while witnessing the skeleton crew (get it) try to stay afloat.

d. For Matthiacide - please remember she can cast some pretty decent fire, if you need any limb to get incinerated. Free of charge.

[downswing]

( Mmmmmm, holes. )

[reparo]

[The waking up is sudden and the first thing Hermione feels is an oppressive pressure. Soil, compacted around her - well, around some of her.

It's pure bravery and luck that she doesn't pass out from the shock, but that she springs into a mad scramble. Her wand is - god, she has no idea, in the holster on the inside of her arm? In the place she fell asleep in? Useless in the circumstances?

Forget the wand. Hands will do. Hands will serve. She gets dirt under her nails, has it in her eyes, and she digs and scrapes until feels like she can breathe again. She surfaces with a scream, pure and unadulterated rage - how could she be buried?! - and when her raspy throat gives way to a cough, the scream becomes a sob as she tries to get out.]

[downswing]

( Bells stirred him. Brought him like a hunting dog to prey, and the stench of it, of desperation. There is a turbulence in the air, when dangers looms and blooms and comes to peak, and he feels it now, the urgency of rescue.

He thinks, brought to his knees and scraping dirt with cold, bare hands — someone has died here. Thinks too, amid ghostly wisps that taunt him with crystalline, scratchy sounds and bells, waking bells, tolling — someone will die again.

Keeps digging, palms raw and stone scratched, the early hours of a slate dawn wash his back.

He hears the scream, but does not know the voice. There is a warmth to it, like a guttered candle. Tremors reverberate, the work of hungry movement from below. Hands, perhaps. If the buried is even human. )

I am here. Do you hear me? I am — ( What use? If they can learn his voice, he is perhaps a stranger. But if he has learned aught of Wei Ying, it is this: that speech can soothe. ) I shall not leave you. I shall be here until you walk this earth again. Do you hear me?

( He does not say, if he is in time. Cannot speak the words. )

[reparo]

[Her blind panic finally comes to an end when she reaches the surface. Her hands first, then her arms, the top of her head.

She hears it. Hears him.

Manages to cough out the dirt from her throat, and finds her voice.]

I hear - I hear - help me. Help me out - get me - get me out of here...

[She's sobbing now, which will be embarrassing later. But how can she possibly be mentally prepared for being buried alive? How on earth does someone do that?]

[downswing]

( It is not fast work, not pretty. He thinks he might know the voice, only to understand heartbeats later it is not Wen Qing. Close in tonality, the timber the same when deep notes of sorrow hit. He is misled — misleads himself, in the ongoing, riotous quest to unearth the woman, or the boy-child with an unbroken voice.

There is a point when the cascade of filth slows, when he digs and nothing spills in from the sides, when his hands no longer sink in, and progress rallies. When he is extricating more than seeps back in, and he starts to see — pallor. Then, the vibrancy of colour, some misshapen cloth. No doubt the shirt of the buried, twisted.

He has dug out too low to break free her face, too clumsily to reach her hands. They work, if not at odds, then certainly in communion. He has begun, for the past few heartbeats, to shovel with his sword's hilt, careless with potentially hitting the body below — stops now, and it is nails and knuckles again, and the work is slowed. )

Jolt yourself. If you can — if you hear me. To know which way to dig again, north or south.

( They must prioritise her face, and all he sees is the trunk, with no guidance for how she rests. )

[damnable]

( Headless Dancer times, please. )

I'm a headless dancer, a dancer for ghosties 🎶

[reparo]

[As the ship shifts from one side to the Other Side, she hides. It's pure good luck that she's found the barrels right before the change, and that she thinks fast as soon as those creatures start to swarm the ship.

Now, in a moment of silence, Hermione emerges from an empty ale barrel, peeking first to see the coast is clear. She stands up, the lid of the barrel in her arm like a shield, and turns to get out - ]

Oh my god! [ - only to find herself face to face with a familiar face which still scares the hell out of her.]

Red - god, don't lurk like that.

💃🕺🎶

[damnable]

( Red winces apologetically. The truth is that she sort of sensed Hermione's aura through the barrel, and so she was trying to come get her attention in the midst of the chaos that has followed. )

Pretty sure lurking's a good thing right now just in general, I think, but I'll chill on the lurking in the future.

( There's a light smirk, but also some undercurrent inside of her of: who knows how much of a future they have? Those beacons are going off and taking a bunch of them this next time. She stretches her hand out to help Hermione get out of the barrel: )

You okay?

[reparo]

Oh, haha. [Really? Sarcasm now? She's surrounded herself by so many dry-witted people - and for a moment Red's reply makes her think of Harry, who would've made such a quip in the middle of a bloody fight of course; it hurts to think of Harry. It hurts to think of a lot of things, and also to exit the barrel gracefully.

She stumbles a bit, fumbles on her way out and slams into Red's arms, whether she likes it or not.]

Oof - sorry. This is mortifying.

[Her foot is stuck, hooked over the edge of her barrel. She has to grab onto that offered hand to wiggle it free.]

I... am great. I am as great as I smell right now - do I smell like dead people ale?

[damnable]

( Red's there, waiting, ready to grab hold of her when she stumbles. She has her feet planted on the floor beneath her feet to make sure she's steady enough to catch her, to keep Hermione in place while she frees her foot from the barrel that wants to keep hold of her. She lets out a small pfft sound before she shakes her head in response. )

Nothing mortifying about hiding in a barrel on a ghost pirate ship to try to get information. That's actually fairly badass.

You don't smell like dead people ale. You smell like you always do - like books and a distant storm. ( There's a pause as a flash of something hits her - ) I don't think we have long - to find a clue.

d-adjacent

[somebadnews]

[ There's really only so much an old man can take, even if part of him (the unfortunately visible part) is technically a teenager. By the time he runs into Hermione again on the streets near the Whispering houses, Five has been frozen, stabbed, burned, and poisoned. Not to mention sold to gangsters and chased down every street in the city for a tongue. He doesn't know what winning feels like, but exhaustion remains his most constant companion.

He does his usual assessment, looking for injuries or any reemerging chest wounds, then nods. ]

You survived. Good. [ And then proceeds to collapse on the nearest stoop. They still need to take care of Matthias, of course. Anurr is still at the gates. But at some point he needs to take a breather. It doesn't escape him that she's not holed up in a safe house somewhere after her very close call. ] What did I miss?

d for dorks

[reparo]

[She's acting like paranoid Mad-Eye Moody right now, constant vigilance, wand in her hand all the time and ready to fire. But can you blame her?

She's been buried alive, died (in another timeline), chased down streets and attacked.

It's the buried alive part that nearly wrecked her, and she's angrier now.

But the anger fades quickly at the sight of Five.]

When they're not selling spirits into slavery, they're burying us alive, and this place is vile and I want to set things on fire all the time. But otherwise, not much.

double d for dangerous dorks

[somebadnews]

[ Being paranoid isn't a bad thing, if she asks Five. She should be. She has a right to be angry too, but that worries him more. Anger for Hermione means being impulsive, and he lost track of her days ago.

He studies her for a moment before he presses: ]

Who were they burying alive?

The doube Ds are here

[reparo]

[Well, since there's a moment's reprieve here, she can charm her hair back into tight braid, trying to get it out of her eyes.]

I didn't have the time to do a census, but - me, for one.

excellent new codename unlocked

[somebadnews]

[ Not that he didn't already assume it was her, but it isn't the first he's heard of it. These are times he wonders if he should have let Anurr take the city. There's nothing worth saving here. ]

I'm sorry I missed that. [ He actually does look briefly angry that he can't be everywhere at once, not while being chased like he was, though he deflates slightly when he reminds himself that she looks unharmed. ] Did you have to get out yourself?

[bravelyrunsaway]

( in part & whole, how does she feel about even holding...................... a paw (no just go for grabbing him, wolf is not equipped for looming consuming shadow beings) )

i accept but we'll build up to it

[reparo]

[There's nothing about this place that isn't creepy, except perhaps the massive wolf that walks quietly beside her.

She's glanced at him a few times now, and finally has to ask:] It's not the full moon, do you just...prefer being in this form?

[She should be grateful he's not leaving fur on her stuff this time.]

[bravelyrunsaway]

( He cants his head in the way universal to canines trying to figure out something unfamiliar, but more relevantly, also aptly mimics human confusion. What are full moons that he has to care about them specifically? Why be limited to them, as her question seems to imply?

After holding that head tilt for a few steps, he huffs out a sound that might be canine laughter, letting his tongue loll out. Truth be told, he can be faster and get away into different spaces on four legs to two, and he doesn't like anything about this mostly dead city.

Ergo, yes, he prefers this form, minus when two legs, talking, and a sword are more useful than four legs, fur, and teeth. He lifts his feet in a prancing trot for a few seconds, near dancing around her before nuzzling at her thigh and settling back into a pace matching walk. )

[reparo]

[She lifts her eyes skywards, sighing.] I love getting laughed at by a big wolf.

[She will elaborate some other time - well, that's not true. She'll elaborate now.] Where I come from, werewolves can only transform when the full moon is out - and they're definitely not chummy when they do.

[The irony being that as she says 'chummy', Licyn's prancing around like a furry dork, and when he nuzzles at her thigh she actually reaches down and gives his head a quick pet. It's her emotional support werewolf, Your Honour.]

Thank you for matching my shorter stride, in any case... This place is - well, you know. You can tell.

[It is not great, is what it is. She has her wand out, the tip of it illuminated by a spell, casting long shadows down the pathway. You'd think light would make it less creepy, but - ] What was that?

[bravelyrunsaway]

( His head continues to tilt and tilt and tilt, until he's giving her such an odd look that he's outright hoping to get her to smile. What she talks about sounds cursed rather than inherent, and curses, those he does understand, with the same soulsickness that has him avoiding most magic users in his home, and coming to uneasy acceptance of the ones here. Hermione clearly numbered among them.

He shakes his head, traveling down the length of his spine until his tail gives a shudder and he can perk both ears forward, tracking... what. Sound? His vision isn't as great when it comes to colours like this, but shadows, dark and light, that's all fine.

He angles... somewhat in front of her. Within those shadows, he can see nothing. Nothing. A low growl rumbles through his chest, the fur at the back of his neck standing on end. So does the fur at the base of his tail, which is held out straight behind him.

The shadows caught in her wand's light flicker and flow, almost aping what natural light might cause: then they start to grow. Slow, but apparent, and not unidirectional. All the shadows looming from the spaces around them, even further down, and he suspects further behind, are reaching toward them. )

hold me closer headless dancer

[weifinder]

( The ship's impossible rolling over, the storm of blood around them, and Wei Wuxian idly murmurs: )

I'm thoroughly tired of ships in this world.

( Exhausted. Done. So many haunted, horrible vessels, and none with the decency to not leave those who haunt it suffering before the end. Seeing the sailors around refleshed, he grimaces, lurching away and toward the cabins — towards one set of them, whatever's at the back, perhaps the captain's? He may be deliberately forgetting large ship terminology.

There's been no kind ships, not since the slaveship that arrived with members of their sort of world-crossing group chained. From that first ship, set aflame and dragged back out of port by the dead mermaids who'd been slaughtered by its mirror prior to its shattering.

This one joins those ranks of horrors, but oh, so he slams forward and into the door, which doesn't conveniently open. Instead he clings to the handle, large and imposing as it is, while the blood rain slams down over him, and the sailors shout at each other, attempting to avoid an already seen inevitability. )

count the blood rain on the deck-way

[reparo]

[It feels a bit like repeating the cycle - has she been here before? Somehow it feels like she's been here before, but maybe it's just the blood rain that is familiar. Hermione spots the familiar figure of someone beloved, and rushes over.

Scramble-runs, because ships still move in the water. This one takes a wave just as Hermione nearly gets to the door, sending her flying a few inches off the deck and slamming into the door and Wei Wuxian in equal measure.]

I'm so sorry - ow, how are you so bony?

[She doesn't wait for an answer, but rattles the door a bit too, and when it presents itself as locked, she aims her want at the knob and says:] Allohamora. [The door opens inwards, spilling them both into the room with all the force of gravity and hilarity alike.]

lay me down on decks so weathered

[weifinder]

( He grunts when he hits the floor inside the cabin first, his attempt to respond to her accusation of his bony nature cut off with an: )

Oomph!

( She is not, sadly, going to find him less bony for him being her landing pad, but it is perhaps kinder than the deck.

... Perhaps. )

I've put on weight, ( is what he reasonably wheezes, having given up and decided to lay there until she finds her footing, and hope he doesn't end up harmed in the process ) I'm not so bony anymore!

( The cabin around them lit by a swaying lantern, threatening repeatedly to come off its hook and yet never quite making it. Papers and books and other non-bolted down pieces of decor are strewn across the whole space, with the window looking out slathered in reds. )

[reparo]

[It's a terrible time to be smart-arsed and quippy here, but given that this encounter on a boat does not involve any last requests from spirits to feel the breeze on their face one last time as they piss into the ocean, she's entitled to something funny - something else that's funny.]

Are you not, now? Mm, married life must agree with you well.

[Ha ha - moving on. The cabin.] This is good - this is good, look at all those papers - I'll take the left side.