the harp(y) was a big winged lyre | event + test drive meme

[groundrules]

Hello, hello! Fresh out of the box is the action spanning 14-31 July, also serving as our second test drive meme (TDM). The event is broken in three parts: one exclusive to TDM participants, one that's for the existing crew, and a communal section, as... sparks literally fly, when characters cross paths.

OOC planning & questions are HERE. Existing players can use this log to party, or you can alternatively make your own logs & network posts. Our TDMers are stuck in this playground only, but — to replicate the game experience more faithfully, they can ask questions and briefly interact with NPCS HERE.

Tiny reminder: eastbound is an invite-only game for size control, but if you found yourself here, love the setting or the playerbase but don't know anyone — PM @ groundrules, we'll figure something out. You're welcome to make a note in your top-level comment title, if you're a TDMing newb, shiny and chrome!

TDM TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | COMMON TIMELINE | NOTES

TDM TOURISTS

A great day to be alive, chipping manicures and clawing out of a salt mine just in time for a befuddled undead cavalry to whisk their visitors away, one by one as they're recovered.

TDM characters receive quartz stones that function as translation and (network) communication devices, before they are presented to Haltham.

Cursing his luck, Haltham informs newcomers they are in the frozen citadel of Sa-Hareth, controlled by undead warlord Anurr. Characters were wrenched free from the mines of deposed death king Unhalad and... two weeks behind the eastbound caravan that is the Merchant's troupe — their one ticket home.

IS THERE AN ACCOMPLICE IN THE HOUSE?

As Haltham brokers their getaway, newcomers are foisted on Caspar and the Lucky Hands, a gang of thieves set to hijack a port delivery of silvered powder. The Hands handle the theft on D-day, but pairs of newcomers are each saddled with a stolen pouch to transport furtively across Sa-Hareth.

They must escape frequent sentinel searches and other petty thieves to rendez-vous within a day at the dark, dusty and overpriced Hog & Mead tavern in the Merchants' Arena.

Anyone caught by local enforcement can spend a few hours imprisoned in a converted fishermen's warehouse, guarded by three underpaid officers, before breaking or talking themselves out. Thank your predecessors, who ruined the only decent jailhouse.

ALL ABOARD

The travel hell punishment fits the larceny crime: after rendez-vous, Caspar, Haltham, two undead and the TDM tourists join some noble passengers, who seek refuge in Taravast after vocally supporting Unhalad.

They board a seven-wagon streetcar pulled by twelve mechanical horses, heading out of Sa-Hareth down the haunted Stairs of Sighs passageway.

To keep the peace, newcomers must pretend to also be disgruntled Unhalad supporters — and to know nothing about the many bags of exotic opiates that Caspar has dragged aboard.

As they advance down the Stairs canyon, characters may observe each night brings a full moon and blood rains that disappear without trace, come morning. They can also hear the melancholic, indecipherable song of a woman — and find themselves dreaming nightly of burning alive, or being buried under hot tar. They will wake alert and increasingly distrustful of their companions.

At one point, the express train horsecar will pass by a galloping arctic bear, which will stop to salute. Do not feed it.

Characters receive a red helleborus brand on their left wrist to identify each other. It disappears within a week's time.

Test drive questions HERE.

» THE NEXT STOP

EXISTING PARTY

THE WAR IN WORDS

The recent emergence of the dark tar-like creatures gradually unsettles Lord Arha and his ghostly armies into violent outbursts. Throughout the day, the legions become progressively corporeal, no longer flickering out of existence and retaining their memories. They remain dead.

The following morning, the harpies throw down their usual homages of splintered aged bone, now alongside withered parchment. The strips feature excerpts from the letters of Arha and the Lady Hatisse — which Mazyar and his people can translate.

After reading one such parchment, a soured Arha takes unasked command of Mazyar's caravan, imposing benevolent but firmly enforced curfews. Grim-faced ghost soldiers start to keep watch of characters at all times. Some will accuse caravan travellers of being witches or spies of Taravast's Attaryl school.

Those crafty enough to pick up Arha's discarded letter can see his hands have smeared it bloodied. Translated, the missive encourages Arha to turn back with his armies from Taravast.

DON'T HARP ON ABOUT IT

All hell breaks loose as Allison, Lily, Wei Wuxian and Five follow tar harpies inside their makeshift "nest" — going down a steep pit into one of the canyon mountains, and reaching the cavernous and shifting corridors of a stone temple. The passageways lead to small chambers that host stone tombs, many opened and still holding the remains of bones and drips of tar.

Angered by the intrusion, the laired harpies turn aggressive and exit into the canyon, starting an attack spree. They throw rocks, claw or fly down and pick up stray animals and humans. Arha and his army can help you defend against the creatures.

With their main entryway compromised, some harpies will leave the lair through the fissured canyon wall, creating a crude and claustrophobic opening. The sorcery contained within the temple will seep out, with magically sensitive characters finding they can no longer quite tell the difference between the living and the dead. (All) characters can now sometimes briefly see the flickered figures of people they deeply miss around them.

Existing character questions HERE.

» AND THEN YOU GET VISITORS.

OLD TIMERS & TDM TROOPS

FASTER THAN A SPEEDING BU—

Gone rogue, some harpies will target a rapidly incoming seven-wagon streetcar, destroying or flying away with eight of its 12 mechanical horses, and the sad coachmen. The remaining steeds are completely unmanned.

The existing crew can wave their handkerchiefs as the train horsecar speeds by the caravan, set to crash into a canyon wall — or lend a hand to evacuate our TDMers, more Sa-Hareth refugees, and... our good friend Haltham and two of his creatures. Also, opium.

TDMers can meanwhile (haphazardly) board off or try to take control of the mechanical horses.

Write your starters as you will, or plan out the fate of the train horsecar HERE.

FRIENDS & FAMILY PROGRAMME

Following their unlikely survival, newcomers can join the existing party as part of smuggler merchant Mazyar's prosperous caravan. They will receive food, decent clothes and a donkey, horse or elk mount — a rare upside from the ongoing blood rain weather forecast, and the tar-drenched harpies that throw down aged bone.

They will also notice that Mazyar's caravan has been escorted by a ghost army led by the Lord Arha. He travels to free his lover, the oracle Hatisse from her alleged imprisonment by the witches of Taravast. All characters will experience a blood-curdling dread whenever they think to tell Arha or his men that they are dead — but speaking the words is now possible. Report HERE, if you'd like to break the bad news.

As the caravan stops for a few days, the existing party and newcomers can make merry, recover or raid the open haunted temple — where they may find several untouched stone tombs, including one engraved with a sculpture of Lord Arha. It will prove highly difficult to remove that lid without a group effort... but for that, or any other tomb questions, GO HERE.

NOTES

FRESH MEAT GONNA EAT

TDM events count as game canon, if you app in.

You can do network-style posts & log starters. Invent a username for communicators — but you're stuck with it after!

You can use the two allied NPC undead during the train horsecar disaster portion. Deploy them as you see fit to keep your character alive. The undead come with higher strength, speed, hunting instincts and a... disturbingly cold presence.

Haltham can make last-stand miracles happen for you, but at a heavy price. Inquire here.

OLD TIMERS, THINE WRINKLES SWEET

Existing characters won't be able to tell whether the newcomers or each other are living, dead, memories or ghosts, as a result of the (temporary) temple magic.

...yes, any leftover opiates are up for grabs. Hooligans.

You're welcome to respond to network posts from TDMers — but please keep your network posts in eastbound, think of Ye Olde AC.

Comments

[valeas]

( his surprise seems genuine, but emilia no longer pretends she can tell the difference when it comes to the demon of war. she'll shelve back her own anger, sensible enough to understand she won't be getting her answers down in these suffocating tunnels. she is not without a sense of self-preservation, whatever he may think.

that said, her eyesight is not quite as sharp as his own: an appraisal of the passageway leads to mixed results. but emilia is quite stealthy, enough so that she bypassed his senses and even took him by surprise that one time. she trusts she can maneuver herself in this labyrinth. )

Well?

( this verbal nudge is barely audible as she points to their left. she has not his patience, and they need to keep moving. )

[inferus]

[ wrath leans forward, closing his eyes. he can see well even in the dark though his eyes do not glow the same gold as before, but there is little to see. he leans in the direction she indicates and then listens instead- for the sounds of life, for the sounds of movement, for anything at all.

after a moment, a weighted moment perhaps longer than is necessary, he nods in answer. there is movement this way. he trusts if it means to fight them he can fight it back- destroy it as he has wished to destroy something- anything after realizing what she did, and if not...

perhaps she is angry enough at him to actually run now when he asks her to.

he begins to walk in that direction, prowling forward like a panther on the hunt. ]

[valeas]

[ to his likely disappointment, wrath will be left wanting. for now.

what they find is an abandoned encampment. the lamps are rusty with misuse, the clothes in poor state, and a barrel of oil is off to the side. those that were responsible for this makeshift camp must have fled long ago, and if wrath heard movement, it awaits them further up ahead.

from the corner of her eye, emilia spots a small bag of grains, along with a few other resilient foods. he may not need food for sustenance, but she does, and she gathers what she is able to carry. if she brings herself to a stop briefly, it's —

there is so much coldness. and death permeates the very air. she could choke on it. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath's jaw locks imperceptibly as they are met with the abandoned encampment. already his senses are on overdrive again, searching, smelling, investigating. nothing he recognizes except the overwhelming stench of death and decay, except for her. he only stops his searching when he senses her freeze behind him.

then he turns toward her, seeing her shiver. if only she knew, the underworld is colder than this. it is cold enough here in this labyrinth even his ability to alter the temperature will make little difference permeating through it.

he removes his jacket and slips it over her shoulders without a word. she will feel the heat of his hands even from the outside of the fabric. if she were to look at him, his expression remains impassive as ever as he raises an eyebrow as if asking if she is ready to continue. ]

[valeas]

[ impeccable demon manners hard at work again.

emilia tells herself this gentlemanly display is due to his need to keep her alive. she is his last soul to collect, and that soul would be rather useless if she freezes to death before she can marry pride. she learned her brutal lessons the hard way. she will not make the same mistakes twice.

all the same, she closes the suit tightly around her and finds refuge in this sliver of warmth. the suit looks comically large on her, but in this instance, that's a boon. gathering every ounce of courage and resolve she possesses, emilia gives him a nod and continues onward, her steps soundless.

this silence will serve them well: two undead creatures await them around the bend, ravenous and yearning for some warmth themselves.

she doesn't hear them yet, but wrath would. the too-fast strides. the acrid breathing. soon enough, the stench. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath reaches out to and grabs hold of emilia's arm as soon as he senses what is ahead, senses danger is ahead. his grip is tight enough to show there is reason to be worried ahead before he has even been able to indicate it in any other way.

he points forward to indicate there is prey ahead, creatures which sound and smell unfamiliar to him (other than smelling of death itself, of decaying bodies).

after this, he steps forward, slowly. he does not know what manner of beast they will face, but he is more frightening than whatever is there. he will not let them touch her. the creatures round the bend, and he rushes forward, making a face of pure disgust even in the midst of the animalistic predatory rage. he grips hold of one of the arms and twists, it crunches off and drops to the floor. this is not enough to stop it so he reaches out for its head this time, crushing it against the dark wall near them.

he is slower than usual- distantly he is aware of this, trying to adjust to that. ]

[valeas]

[ she brings herself to a stop at his urging, and soon enough, she smells and hears why.

it's hardly the first time emilia is witness to wrath in battle, all violence made flesh. he is the general of all generals, of war itself, and moments like these, it's easy to understand. she once thought him invincible for it, and it left her bereft the day his brother gutted him.

severing the creature's limb from the rest of its body doesn't do the trick, but crushing its head against the wall does. wrath disposes of the next creature, and the next. it's a bit like torture, to lift her hand to her neck and feel the absence of her horn amulet. but magic runs through her veins without it, and powerful energy sparks over her skin where her tattoo resides. emilia draws that power to her as she lifts her hand, and whispers a spell so foul that it burns her lips (again).

the spell is so new she could not possibly forget it, nor could she forget the fear that entered antonio's eyes when it took. like it does now, invisible claws slashing at the straggler's neck until its head rolls to the ground. she looks up at wrath, deadly still, and swallows it all back.

the things she'd wish to say. the grace that won't come out. ]

[inferus]

[ so many of the undead creatures fall around him one after the other, but he does not miss the final moment- the creature that gets through, the way she reaches up to use magic he immediately recognizes. it is not a spell he has heard her use before, and he is aware that is because it is new.

he lifts his head from the pile of bodies beneath him, breathless, as he meets her gaze while she looks back at him.

awareness is clear there in the dark, gold of his eyes. there is the slightest hint of his being impressed as well- offensive magic, and she wielded it with ease to crumple the body of the creature to the ground at her feet.

they say nothing. there is still not the safe space to do so, but the pause between them is weighted with tension they give no name to. he holds it - this moment, her stare before he nods, starting to walk once more (or prowl forward).

they will claw their way out of these tunnels if they have to. whatever may have come between them, there is little doubt of their determination. ]

[valeas]

[ and so they claw their way out of the tunnels.

by the time they do, emilia's hair is tangled like some wild creature built a nest in it — a sight that would no doubt be familiar to the prince — and the skirts of her dress further in tatters. she's gathered the crushed hematite in her small hand, clutching at it with tightened fists.

her other hand reaches for the dagger in his holster when he looks elsewhere. the heft of it is also familiar, almost fondly so, and she sets the sharp point of it right under his chin. her gaze is made of flint, her chest heaving with her burgeoning anger.

she'll have what it demands, her anger, one way or another. ]

If this was a scheme designed to unsettle me, it has failed. Take me to Pride. Now.

[inferus]

[ wrath straightens as he feels the tip of the dagger press against his chin. of course. it is embarrassing how many times emilia has snatched his own weapon from him to use against him. he should have been better prepared, but he allowed himself to feel comfortable in knowing they were both trapped here.

this is familiar. tension tightens his muscles as he stares down at her without moving. flint of his own is in the black gold of his eyes as he stares down at her without moving an inch. a flare of anger of his own shoots back through him, but his demeanor remains unnervingly calm but poised even as he drinks from the anger radiating off of her in turn. he sees it in her eyes, feels it radiating off her in waves. ]

So eager to see my brother?

[ it is hardly the first time she has used his dagger against him, hardly the first time she has tried to kill him. but it is different this time after all they've been through, after what he feels. ]

cw: er violence and other lovely things

[valeas]

[ blood and bones, but wrath saying it aloud makes it all the more real. an image of the scroll she signed flashes through her mind, along with the desperation she'd felt, and it threatens the steadiness of her hand. emilia's fingers curl around the hilt of the serpent dagger tighter for it, but the blade doesn't pierce skin.

it could. she would if there was reason, no matter how she feels. she warned him she'd defend herself through any means necessary. his grievances are not more important than her safety, and she will survive this, survive him and whatever else comes for her. but the memory of seeing wrath ripped open from hip to hip is too fresh in her mind still, the nausea lingering in the walls of her throat, and she does not actually want this. she'd damn him to hell if they hadn't already accomplished that. ]

He is what I chose.

[ to wed him and free him from his curse, or so she'll allow them all to believe. it's necessary. ]

[inferus]

[ those words ring through him igniting what remains of his own anger that has been carefully placed inside of him in favor of the coldness he greeted her with when he came to collect her soul that she signed away. his ordinary cool demeanor shifts for a moment as a light rumble surrounds them, signaling his anger. she hasn't even met him. she has no idea what she is walking into with pride, and yet every offer from wrath's side was immediately turned down despite all they shared. he swallows his feelings.

when he speaks, it is slow and pointed: ]

I am aware.

[ he breathes in through it. the point of the knife is still pressed against his skin with her hand there, gripping the handle of it. he moves in closer to her heedless of the weapon she has aimed at him, forcing the pointed end of the blade into his skin a little - blood slips up in the aftermath. ]

So do it then, witch.

[ it would hurt less. the wound doesn't heal. ]

[valeas]

[ her breath stutters as she watches the dagger finally pierce his skin, blood trickling down the smoothness of the serpentine blade. the sight of blood is not what alarms her, having grown more used to it than she'd like. no, it's that the wound is taking its sweet time to close, if it will fully close at all.

emilia lowers the dagger with an abruptness that reveals her.

there's plenty she wouldn't put past wrath, but feigning vulnerability isn't one of them. he'd rather toss himself into the lake of fire. which means this is no scheme, at least not one that he's designed. she swallows hard, gaze finally lifting back to his face. she ignores the loud pounding of her heart. ]

If not in hell, where are we?

[ and why can't they just transvenio back? ]

[inferus]

[ wrath watches the abruptness with which she drops her hand down, and he understands (and doesn't understand at the same time). her reaction to what envy did to him. it was real, and still he wound up finding her having made a deal with pride, still he found herself ready to sign her soul away from the brother she had never met.

distantly, he is aware of the blood trickling down his skin - it isn't healing. this is worse than somehow being taken away mid transvenio (something that was impossible enough on its own, but it appears his powers have taken a hit as well). if they are too far from the underworld to reach it, it might explain some of it, but-

he hears the pounding of her heart, and the anger is washed out of him, especially as she looks back up at him with that expression on her face, looking to him for answers he doesn't have (instead of answers he has but won't reveal for once). ]

I do not know. I don't recognize it.

[ and he has been all over the world. ]

This has never happened before.

[valeas]

[ emilia may roast the mighty demon of war whenever and wherever she has the opportunity to do so, but she's always been clear on the lethality of his powers. their extent. if he suddenly finds himself limited, it means something of great magnitude has interfered. but she is not ready to admit defeat.

she lifts up her free hand to him in offer. will you come with me?, he'd asked, as if there was any other choice she'd make. ]

Try again.

[ yes, she remembers the searing pain that made it feel like her entire body was burning.

yes, she's dead serious. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath stares at her with her outstretched hand, with how readily she is willing to not believe him and throw herself back into pain all for the sake of the goal of marrying his brother. he can tell he is no longer remotely able to connect to the plane of the underworld at all. attempting again would do nothing but cause her unnecessary pain, and he already hated knowing how much pain she was in the first time around.

his expression grows firm, utter refusal. his hands remain at his side. he straightens once more, and the word that leaves him is somehow so quiet but still manages to be resounding in its gravity: ]

No.

[valeas]

[ emilia's hand lowers back to her side, joining the one that still clutches his dagger. she is no longer pointing it at him, the dagger, but her grip on it has not loosened. does not loosen as she takes a step forward, chin raised with all her wounded defiance. he is dangerous, yes. so is she.

her own voice lowers, strands of her hair lifting as though a short and forceful wind swept through. ]

I was not asking.

[ she is his queen. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath does not move as she takes her step forward, and he reaches out, wrapping his hand around her own, lifting the dagger up against his chest this time, leaning in so close there is a mere breath between them. his heart pounds heavy, his breathing ragged.

his dark eyes remain on her own, aware of her power, aware of her anger and hurt. it falls off of her in waves that rush into him and mingle with his own hurt and betrayal. ]

Bury my dagger into my heart for my insolence if you so wish.

[ she is not married to pride yet, and even if she does, he does not let pride himself speak to him like this. ]

I will not be ordered - not by you nor your husband to be. And I will not have you burn again for no reason other than how stubborn you are.

[ of course, before anything more can be said, before their argument can escalate any further, they are (thankfully) interrupted. ]

[valeas]

[ she is mature enough not to resent wrath for having the last word — for now. but she will not forget his refusal, nor that he expects her to take him at his word after catching him in a lie. after he was wrong about the involvement of his brothers. she does not and will never trust him again.

her eyes are narrowed, lips trembling with barely contained fury. she should do it. just drive this right into his heart. one less of the malvagi to contend with, the one she's deemed most treacherous of all. wrath's all but issued the challenge, and she must show that she is not bluffing.

but their cavalry is indeed approaching, the situation dire enough they risk interrupting what looks to be a tensely charged moment between two strong-willed individuals. emilia breathes as hard as wrath does, very little space between them. only the dagger should fit in what space is left.

she looks to the side and starts at what she sees. their rescuers are undead, not unlike the creatures they fought down in the mines. their disposition, however, is entirely different. one might almost say civilized. a quartz stone is placed in each of their hands, and —

it's this that pulls emilia's attention away from her wildly murderous thoughts. ]

There is magic in it. [ she feels it like a hum. this quartz piece has been spelled. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath is still breathing raggedly when they are interrupted - the look in her eyes, the feeling radiating off of him, and he now doubts she was ever upset at all that he was disembowled. she would drive that dagger in his heart in this moment if only to prove how much she hates him, as revenge for the way she believes he has hurt her.

do it, and she will. he believes it wholeheartedly, and that is its own heartbreak. that is its own pain. he remains so remarkably still, awaiting his fate. maybe she will remain here. she will certainly be safer than with pride.

he pulls back only after she does, turning to the creatures arriving, watching them warily, ready to attack again. except these creatures appear to be different than the ones they met below.

already he feels the magic radiating off of the quartz in his hand as she does. he nods in quiet agreement, sliding a hand over it. the magic radiating off of it is strange, unlike anything he has felt before. ]

... a means of communication?

[valeas]

Communicate with whom?

[ she sets aside their volatile argument in favor of answers. much as she is loathe to admit it at the moment, they work well together, and she still believes in working with the enemy she knows over the enemy she doesn't. she can place her anger aside until they figure this out.

there are others, or so they're being told. others who've been similarly displaced.

the undead can take emilia and wrath to haltham; he'll have more answers and point them toward a way home. it would be foolish to believe this without question, but so too would it be foolish not to hear this haltham out to make up her mind. she'll follow. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath straightens as they are given answers, which only lead to more questions. he does not like knowing so little about this world, about what happened to them, about the magic within his hand. she did not plunge the dagger in for now, and so he glances at emilia briefly, understanding their quarrels have been set aside for the moment.

so they can have a shaky alliance for the time being. she may not trust him (may never trust him again), but at least she can trust his goals do not go against her own here.

they need to find out what information they can. they need to be prepared for potential threats, and they need to do so together.

emilia follows, and then a moment later, wrath follows after her in turn, schooling his expression into something neutral. the rest of his body coiled and ready to attack should they need it. ]

[valeas]

[ turns out they will not need it.

at least, not with haltham. a cold and rational man, he lays out their situation with succinctness that wrath likely appreciates. they are not in any position to deride him for it, besides: he brokers their getaway and is the only reason they find themselves on a wagon headed east.

after escaping sentinel searches and a rowdy pack of thieves, that is.

she is bone-tired, though she isn't yet ready to submit to it. emilia's seated in the corner of one of the seven wagons, a wool blanket covering her frame. night has fallen, and it's so cold. she is used to the brightly burning sun of palermo and the endless warmth it gives. quietly, to wrath: ]

The moon is full again. [ the fifth night in a row. she'd like to think that means the goddess of night is sending a message to a moon child, but she knows better. there's a strangeness to the stairs of sighs passageway that leaves her entirely disquieted. ]

[inferus]

[ wrath can sense how tired she is, how cold even wrapped up in the blanket as she is. he shifts from where he is seated. if he were to move closer, he could warm her by his presence alone, but they have not quite spoken since their argument with his dagger pressed to his chest - a moment from plunging in.

he could attempt to warm the area, but he has tried before, and it does not quite pierce the biting cold at present. it only dampens it somewhat. his gaze lifts to meet her own when she speaks so quietly, and then he lifts his gaze toward the window to watch the full moon.

it is unnatural for it to be full so long. it is unsettling even to him because he does not know what it means. if he doesn't know, he can't prepare for what is to come. ]

Five nights in a row. The blood rain will follow. [ it is dark, but he can smell it- the blood as it falls. ]

[valeas]

[ eerie full moons and blood rains are concerning, but it's the wailing emilia finds most unbearable. it speaks to an emotion that reaches beyond sadness, the sort of grief she's patently starved herself of in favor devouring the anger. it wasn't pride she summoned upon completing the bone circle.

it was wrath.

without meaning to or even noticing, emilia tugs on the roots of her hair as she watches the bloodlets start to fall. wrath can smell it — ]

What would happen if you were to ... taste it?

[ the things that come out of her mouth now, bless the stars. ]