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westwhere2022-05-18 06:35 pm
groundrules) wrote in westwhere2022-05-18 06:35 pm
Entry tags:
- 2ha: chu wanning,
- arc iii,
- arcane: viktor,
- asoiaf: daenerys targaryen,
- finale,
- harry potter: hermione granger,
- kingdom of the wicked: emilia,
- kingdom of the wicked: wrath,
- legend of fei: xie yun,
- mo dao zu shi: xiao xingchen,
- mo dao zu shi: xue yang,
- oh! my emperor: beitang moran,
- oh! my emperor: su xunxian,
- owl house: eda clawthorne,
- sword of frost: yun yifeng,
- the gifted: marcos diaz,
- tian guan ci fu: xie lian,
- touken ranbu: kanesada,
- triangle strategy: jens macher,
- umbrella academy: diego,
- umbrella academy: five,
- untamed: lan sizhui,
- untamed: wen qing,
- warcraft: anduin wrynn,
- warcraft: wrathion,
- word of honor: zhou zishu
the tithe
The Arc III finale stretches until 2 June — and it’s erupt to no good.
THIS HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE
The Ke-Waicai believers prepare for human sacrifice rites to prevent the eruption of the Ke-Sanwon volcano. They will lead tributes to the volcanic crater, which is lidded by the grounds of a decrepit haunted temple — known as the House of Ravens.
At the heart of the temple is a trodden dais that comprises four slowly receding plates. Numerous temple columns and deteriorating walls offer overnight hiding places, but beware the flinching statues and irritable large ravens. Meat, blood or shiny offerings can distract the birds.
- ■ Use the three previously gained keys to infiltrate the House of Ravens at night through forest pathways revealed by the Huntress.
■ Entrants to the House of Ravens are fully or partially depowered. Their ancestral curse is immediately lifted. Their strength is pulled into the Ke-Sanwon crater, which brims with raw magical power.
■ Hide on temple grounds until dawns, when the dais plates fully open to reveal a 10-metre entryway into the volcanic crater.
■ Overnight, characters are relentlessly tempted by mirages that only they witness: the eerie voice of a loved one might coax them to commit their greatest sin, or they could repeatedly relive memories that led them to such follies.
■ Characters guilty of drunkenness and gluttony feel deathly parched, starved and drawn to a lavish spread that is constantly far out — and ends up comprising raw corn and stale water, when they finally reach it. The lustful find their companions irresistible, or trail after a delectable beauty, who dissolves when touched. The wrathful mull violence, while the envious suspect their companions possess what they most desire. The proud are contemptuously incited to prove their superiority or independence, while the slothful give in to callous indifference towards their peers.
■ The stone statues that decorate the House of Ravens retaliate once visitors succumb to their sins: smaller sculptures throw stones or throttle nearby sinners, but only move when you do not look into their eyes. Larger 4m-tall statues exit the walls and give (slow) chase, retreating after 10-15 minutes. The statues stop attacking at dawns.
LET THERE BE BLOOD
CONTENT WARNING: BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF NPC PAIN, TRANSFORMATION
By dawns, the believers of Ke-Waicai have rallied their tributes — each crowned with wreaths of branches and crops — before the open dais. Roughly two hundred villagers attend the rites, along with eight powerful priests who use elemental magic.
- ■ A first sacrifice walks a long narrow plank that starts from the dais and goes a few metres into the mouth of the volcano. The plank shivers under from heat, but withstands weight.
■ During 15 minutes of exposure, the volcanic magic enshrouds the sacrifice, who painfully transforms into one of the animalistic tar creatures housed in the labyrinths of Ke-Sanwon.
■ Magically sensitive characters can feel this tribute now hosts volcanic magic, and that Ke-Sanwon’s power has slightly diminished.
■ The rites are interrupted by the significantly weaker, but wrathful Beastmaster, whose xenomorphic creatures attack the temple and seek his missing son
■ Characters should free the remaining tributes during the skirmish. They can be as nerfed as you need (if at all) during the rest of their stay in the House of Ravens.
■ The dais must stay open to access the volcano. You can take control of it and of the House by defeating the magically endowed priests, (literally) shouldering the head priest’s ancient white raven and holding its leash.
■ Pass the raven around and defend the bird’s current holder! Whoever carries the raven is often targeted by the village mob and the Beastmaster’s creatures.
■ The clashes last a few hours, until the Beastmaster and villagers exhaust their forces.
■ Diego Hargreeves, Xie Lian, Wrathion, Daenerys and Jon Snow apprehend the Beastmaster, slaying him, when he refuses to relinquish the Brotherhood. Decide who lands the killing blow. His last words: ”You’ve… seen this place. My animals… our dead… have more compassion than these living.”
FIRE AND BRIMSTONE?
The volume of magical energy and tormented spirits inside the volcano weighs heavily on the fracturing dark water mirror that has prevented Ke-Sanwon’s eruption so far. It’s going to blow, unless you:
- ■ Throw more dark water in to fix the mirror fissure. You can get dark water from volcanic cracks, dried wells and creepy crop fields.
■ Use ice / cold magic and ol’ science to cool down the volcano and help the mirror heal. Or lend Moiraine and Magnus a hand as they work with cold magic, and protect them while they cast.
■ Help Wrath and Wei Wuxian exorcise the volcano’s ancient spirits. Many have lost consciousness, reduced to memory fragments and feelings of wrath, pain and resent.
■ Guide villagers to bring sea water. Anduin (on top of the dragon Wrathion) and the harpy Eda are flying in supplies. Viktor is coaxing shipments from his werewolf friends of Ke-Waiar. Large phoenixes are also up for grabs for deliveries. Ensure couriers can safely arrive and quickly discharge their water.
■ Several characters are set to each absorb some of the magical power contained within the volcano, developing aftereffects. They must walk the wobbly plank and stay exposed to the volcano magic for under 15 minutes to avoid transformation: the longer they linger, the more power they take in, feeling as if they are burning from within. Exit quickly and rest copiously after. Those who spend over 10 minutes exposed suffer intense fevers and require immediate medical assistance to cool down.
WILL SOMEONE THINK OF THE CIVILIANS?
Beyond the House of Ravens, assist villagers who want to safeguard their possessions or evacuate by sea.
- ■ The gradual spread of Ke-Sanwon’s magic infects some villagers with temporary animal traits. These effects dissipate within three-four hours.
■ Characters who remain in the villages may feel more irritable and resentful, overcome by the feelings of the volcanic spirits.
■ Coordinate water and supply deliveries with those at the House of Ravens.
■ The Hok-Shinn are divided in their response: some resort to daylight robbery to secure the funds for their own safe departure; citing security, the men of Sairen unsympathetically rally commoners into designated parts of the village, often splitting apart families that then need help finding relatives; alone, Weisi’s followers keep the peace, but are frequently overwhelmed by waves of panicked villagers, thugs and animal hybrids.
■ The magical spillage overwhelms the forest fox spirits, leaving some enraged and prone to attack. Others assume the shape of beautiful wo/men and ask escort into Ke-Waihu for shelter, without disclosing their fox natures. These ethereal strangers betray their origins with cold smiles, glimpses of fleetingly sharp teeth, a fondness for chicken, and… is that an extra set of ears? No harm befalls those who bring a fox into the village, though s/he may insist on now being your lawful spouse.
THE AFTERMATH
With the clashes and Ke-Sanwon subdued, the villagers of Ke-Waicai request back their temple keys and white raven. They lead the party to the beacon of the House of Ravens — the beautifully carved and now-closed dais above the volcano.
- ■ Party companion Hatisse confirms the beacon can be revived within days.
■ She warns that an eruption was prevented by depleting the volcanic magic now, but that the threat could recur within five to 10 years.
■ All character curses (ancestral or individual) are lifted, and powers return completely.
■ Spend some downtime in the villages. Ke-Waicai offers the most luxurious, but frosty accommodations, while the werewolves of Ke-Waiar are tired, but thrilled hosts. Those who suffer from lycanthropy are now experiencing fewer and fewer ‘nocturnal episodes.’
■ In Ke-Waihu, villagers have now calmed and are grateful for help with reaping the fresh harvest and watering their crops, as well flows revive. Every other night, Hok-Shinn Weisi organises a bonfire with village musicians, hearty dances, fresh bread and ale. Villagers seek to marry off their… alluring spawn to their saviours.
■ Within days, Hatisse summons the party to the activated beacon: a pool of white energy, in which one must slowly descend. Characters who were dropped or AC swept in May enter the beacon first and are presumed returned to their home worlds. Characters set for a canon update follow in — but are spat back by the portal and return within minutes.
■ Inevitably, the remaining volatile magic of the volcano disrupts the beacon and ruins the dais. Happily for you, the Merchant will soon get in touch with your next ticket east.
QUESTIONS
Please visit the lava-tory before entering the House of Ravens.
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Astarion |✮| Baldur's Gate III
1. At the ceremony
His unquenchable need to spectate a catastrophe in progress was going to end poorly one of these days, but he was fairly confident today wasn't going to be one of them. After all, the insane volcano cultists were apparently trying to stop the eruption, just like everyone else was. He'd heard little whispers of a dozen different heroic plans underway.
So, why not watch? He'd disguised himself as a nondescript human and joined the crowd of worshipers, vaguely following along with all the humdrum cult busywork of chanting and arm-waving. It afforded him a fantastic view of the whole thing. He hadn't the faintest idea how they melted the sacrifices into horrid goop like that, but it certainly sounded painful.
But eventually, he noticed someone in the crowd that didn't seem to belong either. One of the travelers. Of course. That must be one of the sabotage attempts, then.
He slowly drifted through the crowd until he was close enough to speak quietly. His magical disguise might render him indistinguishable from the humans around them, but the upper crust Baldurian accent was all his own. "There you are. We're on the same side." Vaguely. "When this all gets bloody, do try not to hit me, will you?"
2. Things Get Bloody
And right on time, everything exploded into chaos. Monsters tearing through the crowd, somebody stole a bird, wounded and dying everywhere.
Yes, this was potentially deadly, but gods, it was entertaining.
He might be obligated to help now, though. And why not make that fun? His disguise was still holding strong, and that meant he could slip in amongst the cultists as they bunched up to protect one of their priests. With all eyes on their attackers, none of them were watching the cleric at all.
All he had to do was work his way a little closer with no one noticing that their hands and elbows were passing straight through illusory bits of his clothes.
[OOC: Want to try and snipe the priest before he can get there? Attack him? Let him have a tasty snack? Something else entirely? The choice is yours!]
3. Wildcard
[OOC: Got an idea? Have at! Hit me up on Plurk or Discord.]
i. the ceremony
Beside them, hundreds of men scratch their heels on desicate ground, the frenzy of their dread gaining a monstrous, animal, tangible quality, like grease exuding from a pan. Lan Wangji's fingers knot in a tight, cradled fist at his back, haunted by damp-wet. The waking sun, pale and diffuse in early morning, stabs his nape, prickles the ledge of his shoulder. A woman tips too close to him — teeters like the arc of a rusting pendulum, then catches her footing. Restlessness seizes them all, as if they do not know how this begins, how they intend to end it. What the going rate is, how many lives will pay for the grains of wheat in his bowl. Merchantry, butchery, zealotry.
Bloodletting, while Lan Wangji and his — begrudging companions assume their positions in confused, loose geometries that might later satisfy his arrogance and pass adequately for 'forms' and 'configurations.' The truth: they have no defences. No plan. No righteous claim of interference, when they've arrived only to cleave the villages from their beacon. Old habits itch like blisters and rash cravings, Destroy chaos, cleanse its poison. Drink it like sickness from a wound.
And the mountain's silence screams.
He knows Astarion not for scent or the look of him, or the certainty of his step, or the strength of his stature. But for the flimsy, staggered turbulence of magic in his wake, the sense of manicured, cautious wrongness — confirmed by his voice thereafter.
First, Lan Wangji means to nod. Then, to object, We end bloodshed.
At long last, rasped, in the white roil of the crowd turning, gasps wrenched from them when another sacrifice steps forward, "No. No curtailment. No cautions."
Fend for yourself, when the storm breaks. Lan Wangji cannot be asked to recall restrictions, not with animals yet left to cull.
oh hello you :)
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Xie Yun | OPEN
Finding the dark water in the volcanic cracks isn't hard. Of course, the whole point is to toss it into the volcano. To help keep it from blowing. There's a plank not that far and it wouldn't be hard to walk it, much like wire walk, and toss the dark water into the volcano.
The plank, unfortunately, isn't as stable as the wires above the Ximo River. Not that anyone would consider metal wires more stable than a wobbly plank. He can feel the heat of the volcano. Feel a burning from within, far different from Bone-Chilling. From the poison that had once coursed through his veins.
He doesn't want to overstay on the plank and turns to walk back off of it, needing to rest after. If others needed help across then he'd help. Hopefully, they didn't overstay. One normally wouldn't when it felt like their insides were burning from the inside out.
[ Offering Help ]
Sairen's men were causing families to go missing. Not quite missing, but causing families to be separated. Children from their parents. Siblings from one another. Something that he doesn't take well to. He ignores, for the moment, the way that his own body feels. Where it felt like something was swirling and pushing against his internal energy. Like there were two sets of energies vying for which one was more dominant.
He does what he can to try and help the families find their relatives. Tries to help keep the villagers from panicking too much as they search. That? It doesn't always work, but it was worth a shot. Worth trying.
[ Aftermath - Ke-Waihu ]
The bonfire with village musicians playing is nice. Though, he has no intention of allowing himself to be wed to anyone. He was already devoted. Sure, Zhou Fei wasn't there, but that didn't mean that he would allow himself to be married. He would spend time with the villagers and talk with them, but that was about it.
Of course, he might even merely observe and watch the music and dancing while thinking up his own stories. He is, after all, a storyteller, just not as Xie Yun.
[ Wildcard ]
Want anything else with Xie Yun, PM the journal and we can figure out what to do with them.
just after the plank episode.......
After, there is a scent to Xie Yun that cling acrid and strong, like putrid pustules and damp rot on maiden's skin, like the dying snarl of small animals, belly-flat on hard ground. A silhouette of smoke. A staining.
They meet in drift, Lan Wangji's step burdened by soot and blood caked with wet filth and the long tumble of violence, pebbles rolled, one, the next, caught on — in — his soles, and he is beggarly in this, coaxing the strays of his strength to his pocket. Like a mother calling to him a gaggle of infants, if he prevails one step farther, in crowds that seem mute like half-shaped moans, one step farther, he ends the day, there is victory to be had, silence in the war room between his temples, one step farther.
He cannot breathe. Dead at their feet, largely animal, twisted. The volcano, eased from the long suffering of its pressure, a whistle of its fevers still seeping, warming Lan Wangji's calves, whispering mutiny amid his breezing silks. Bichen, his arm naturally extended, her silver cataracted under the bloody sunset light.
Men groan beside them, drawing their wounded. For once, he does not offer aid. Let they who condone human sacrifice see to their own bruising. One of his own stands before him, impaired in ways unwritten in bone, and Lan Wangji's mouth is a line long, cracked and hard sand, "We had alternative."
To this. Xie Yun's absorption of evil, of that which is not their own to control. Of chaos. Of devastation. You have ruined yourself. When he exhales, it's born choked.
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[Offering Help]
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aftermath
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aftermath
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Offering Help
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xiao xingchen | mo dao zu shi
[Xingchen knows he probably won't be as much help in the House of Ravens as he wishes to be, but at the same time he wants to be here. So he huddles with some of the other villagers, cloaked in what he hopes is unassuming garb, though no one has pulled him aside for being suspicious. His sword is wrapped in cloth, as well, though he prays he doesn't have to use it.
And everything is all well and good as they...wait.
Until he hears a very familiar voice.
Xingchen, it says, and he pulls in a quick breath, sitting up straight. He goes still, desperately listening for that voice again, hoping it's not a trick of his ears. Xingchen, it calls again to him, my dear friend, you're better than this. Hiding does not become you.
Xingchen whispers a single name in response, still a little shocked to hear him.]
Zichen...
[The voice, Song Lan's voice, continues. You are the bright moon and the gentle breeze, so powerful and elegant. Not this.
Xingchen listens and nods, already moving to stand up and join his friend instead of waiting around. He is powerful! Didn't practically every sect want him when he entered the cultivation world?]
Zichen. You're right - !
[Of course, Song Lan isn't there. But danger is. And Xingchen is about to draw its attention toward him and the others if no one stops him.]
2. fire and brimstone
[With the attack inside the House underway, Xingchen finds himself drawn to the mouth of the volcano. It's foolish, he knows, to be so close to it, especially as a blind man, but he can feel spirits in there. Or what once used to be spirits. If he could only get closer and really figure out some way to help them or ease what remains of them.
Again, it's foolish, and he knows.
Then, even among the ruckus, he hears someone approach from...the volcano itself? Footsteps. Is there a path?
He pulls Shuanghua off his back and holds the sword out toward whoever is nearest him at that moment.]
Keep this safe.
[It won't do for his spiritual weapon to be destroyed by fire, after all. So, with that worry allayed for now, he carefully steps toward the volcano's mouth, feet seeking out the path. He finds it, though the heat that breathes upon him is nearly unbearable and all at once. And yet, at the same time, the heat feels alive and like there's some sort of energy transfer happening.
Is this helping? He hopes this is helping. He really hopes this is helping because it is so, so hot. He should go back. He should go back, but...if this is helping save the villages and the spirits within the volcano, then it's his duty to endure...!
(But really, someone should probably help him before he gets KFC extra crispy.)]
3. aftermath
[However he got out of the volcano, Xingchen has managed to end up in Ke-Waicai. The cooler temperatures there are one of the only salves for his self-abused body, though more concerning is the fact that his qi feels...wrong. Tainted. Perhaps it's what yin energy feels like, or demonic cultivation's effects on the body. Maybe. Having not fallen to those depths, Xingchen really can't say for sure.
But it still feels bad and he even notices people giving him a wide berth, like they know he's corrupted in some way. Maybe they do. Xingchen doesn't make a fuss about it, though. He's used to being held at arm's length simply for being blind.
Still, he wouldn't mind some company from time to time. Join him at his solitary table at a teahouse - though he can't quite stomach any hot drinks right now - or accompany him as he returns to some rather comfortable lodgings here. He's still pretty tired.]
4. wildcard!
[eyyyyyy you know the drill]
2!
In fact, he had a whole conversation a short while prior over if absorbing energy could be done safely. The natives could not tolerate the surge of magic, but perhaps someone else could?
He had, in fact, been wondering if he should try.
It's a difficult thought. Wrathion is, by nature, someone who used to be quite reckless. These days, however, he's more cautious.
His life is something he doesn't want to waste, not yet, not while he still has so much to do.
Yet -- what if none of the others could do this? What if his own reservations cause all this to come to ruin, the volcano to erupt? He could rescue a few, of course, fly them to safety, but he can already feel the weight of Anduin's regret should that happen. All the lives lost would weigh on him, the burden wearing him thin. He should --
Wrathion is pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a voice. He blinks, turns from where he's been watching the plank from a safe distance and reflexively reaches out to take the blade. ]
What?
[ Only now that he has it, Xingchen is already walking away. He frowns, grips the man's blade tighter in his hand as he watches him walk out toward the volcano's mouth. ]
You don't have to do this.
[ Surely he knows this? Surely he knows it to be dangerous? ]
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4. y'know how we roll
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Eda Clawthorne | The Owl House
THIS HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE
At night, however, things take a turn for the worse. Eda is sitting in a corner; she's currently not a harpy, as the local witches have finally found a way to replicate her elixir, and flying is cool and all, but she does enjoy getting to just be herself again. And, well, she'd be lying if she said it isn't sometimes a bit exhausting to coexist and bargain with the Owl Beast. It had been hungrier for rodents in recent days too, and hunting in her thrice-cursed state had been no small feat.
She lets her eyes drift closed, trying to get some rest before the big action, but then she hears a voice, as if just behind her, saying You rotten sister! As if your life were even worth returning to! Eda's eyes open wide in the dark. ]
Lily?
[ She whispers her elder sister's name, but then other voices attack her. Raine says You'll always be a liar. Luz says You're not my real mom. Her father points at his missing eye and yells Look what you did! It's all your fault!
And on and on it goes, until Eda is curled up with her eyes shut hard and her hands on her ears, chanting just one word over and over. ]
No no no no no no no no no.
[ Eventually, the chorus of voices still ringing through her mind, she opens her eyes again and, upon seeing the figures of her companions around her, makes a decision.
She gets up quietly and walks toward the exit, careful not to make any noise. Once she's in the doorway, she takes one least look at the party, then turns to leave them for good. ]
LET THERE BE BLOOD
blooooood 🩸
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FIRE AND BRIMSTONE
WON'T SOMEONE THINK OF THE CIVILIANS?
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Zhou Zishu | Word of Honor
[He says he is prepared for anything and the gods know he tries to live up to that statement. But the House of Ravens has surprises for him and since he felt the sting of both Sloth and Lust for his curses, both come back to haunt him. Self-control and only self-control is what keeps him from either leaving his fellow party members behind or jumping their bones. Now isn't the time for either reaction.]
Everyone, listen to my voice. [Using the same tone he used to give orders to his disciples, Zishu pushes his way through the throng.] We are well-acquainted with our sins. Pay them no mind. We are here to do important work and if we let our weaknesses defeat us, we might as well jump into the volcano.
[Little does he know, soon, that is precisely what he will be doing. Well, almost anyway.]
Fire and Brimstone?
[He almost laughs! He really did speak too soon, didn't he. Zishu can see what needs to be done - the magic has to be drained from the volcano or all of their work will be for nothing. Swallowing against a dry throat, he pulls out his sword, Baiyi, and holds it out to the nearest person he recognizes.]
Take him. I will return. [Maybe. He hopes? Parting with the sword hurts and Zishu can feel tears burning at his eyes. Something tells him this won't be the last farewell. But he hopes...he prays...he pleads he is wrong.
Eventually he walks out onto that wobbly bunch of planks, feeling the heat wash over him like a tidal wave. Time ceases to mean anything. All he feels is burning...searing...and the rush of foreign power filling the holes the nails had left behind.
Ten minutes tick by and he stumbles back, falling onto ground that isn't a rickety bunch of planks. But he is burning with fever and barely conscious.]
The Aftermath
[Rapid healing ensures he is present to say...a second farewell. This is the one he had feared. Baiyi is with him, wrapped around his waist, yet the metal doesn't comfort him; it doesn't stop his heart from cracking in two.]
Lao Wen...
[His soulmate, his very reason for living, is gone. Zishu can be found, on his knees, near the last spot he saw the man. Tears run down his cheeks and his shoulders shake, but he hardly makes any sound.
This isn't the end. Not for them. Just a detour.
If he doesn't believe that, he will shatter.]
Aftermath
alone here what other problems would that create?
But those worries don't matter right now. He didn't go back to Yi City. He didn't leave Xue Yang unsupervised. Xingchen is about to turn away from the defunct beacon entirely when he hears a familiar address.
Lao Wen.
He has spent enough time with Wen Kexing and Zhou Zishu to have learned their flirtations with each other, but this is altogether different. There's a grief in Zhou Zishu's voice, a tone he hadn't heard from his friend, and it claws at Xingchen's heart. No one should have to sound like that or go through anything so horrible.
He follows that voice, treading a little cautiously, in case Zhou Zishu doesn't want anyone near him. But when he's given no sign, Xingchen gets to his knees beside his friend, reaching out woth one hand to lightly grab for one of Zhou Zishu's. He doesn't say anything. Any words he has would probably feel hollow or useless.]
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lmf world's shortest thread BUT I HAVE AN ICON FOR THIS
YOU DO
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Fire and Brimstone
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Beitang Moran
[Infiltrating was the easy part. Escaping the very walls and statues that apparently, have made it their mission to end them, less so. Moran isn't feeling too bad about being magically depowered - his power is not one he relies on overly much anyway, and he can still fight without it ... But this could also be the pride talking, who knows?
That being said, he honestly hasn't wanted to crush Dany's hope, but he hasn't been optimistic at all about their hopes of finding the child alive. And once they are inside, well... Given how dilapidated the place is, it seems cleat that whoever gets in, they're not actually staying here to live, and the odds that a child of eight springs might still have lived to teenage years while staying secluded in this place are... thin, to say the least.]
... I do not see any place that could be construed as proper living quarters. I don't think anyone inhabits this place when it is closed.
B - Will someone think of the civilians?
[Moran has widely decided to leave the fighting to people better equipped than he is right now. His brain will be more useful than his sword at the moment, and that can be witnessed as he takes command of a small troop of Ke-Waihu villagers, ignoring any Hok-Shinn attempts to rally them to one place or another.]
The sturdiest halls in the village must be cleared out and prepared to welcome the injured. We boiled water and clean bandages and any hand that is good with herbs to eb ready to receive them there.
A stock of what food is left has to be taken, and it needs to be guarded and rationed out properly until the situation is ascertained.
Someone please find what those idiots rounding people up have been doing with them, and gather the uninjured women and children as far away from the mountain as possible. Able-bodied men should try to join the cooling effort as much as possible, but let's make sure they do not get too close to the fighting. No need to get more wounded.
... Is there any tea at all around here?
C - The Aftermath
[Moran was, in a way in his element, trying to direct things to function while a disaster was striking. This is what he does. his is what he did, for his own country, not too long ago.
And that is also why he is Tired now and in dire need of Not Being Around People. Which is proving to be difficult, as many villagers want to express their thanks, and his walk away from the bonfire keeps getting hindered and he's having a harder and harder time keeping his smile civil.
And when a young lady is actually paraded in front of him, he has to take a deep breath not to snap.]
While I appreciate the offer, I am unfortunately already spoken for. If you'll excuse me...
c. aftermath, hello
Oh, that really broke her heart. I think I even saw some waterworks.
[ The villagers' enthusiasm for them post-rescue is nothing short of amusing, even if Magnus does kind of feel for them, knowing they'll be left behind without the extra protection now that their job is done... allegedly. Magnus doesn't actually know this for sure, but he hopes he can get back home now and not miss his own wedding.
He pats the spot next to him invitingly, having caught sight of this fellow running around amidst all the chaos, so he knows he's at least a decent sort. ]
Do sit and relax. Stretch your legs out. I promise I am not here to propose, and I will say you did let her down as gently as you could, all things considered.
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B.
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b is for best uncle
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a
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Xie Lian
[It's been... a while, since Xie Lian has fought like that.
In more than one sense really, because finding himself depowered doesn't mean finding himself powerless. He was an excellent martial artist eons ago, before he became a god, and his body still remembers all of it, but the first few bouts of fighting have also made it clear that not only are his powers gone, so are his curses. His own, not the ones he acquired here.
And that means that his usual style of just bashing into things with no regards for his personal safety is actually not going to be a thing, because he would like not to die, and now he has to actually be careful about it. Which he hasn't had to do in... well, it's been a good few hundred years now.
It's still impressive to watch. He's managed to acquire a short blade, very unlike any of the magnificent swords he's owned in his life, but good enough for its current job of hacking through beasts and cultists alike. He's swift and agile, almost like a white blur at times, aiming with deadly precision at the beasts' weak points while attempting to mostly disarm the humans that get in the way.
But the real target, of course, is...]
He's here! The Beastmaster is here!
B - Fire and Brimstone
[Option 1]
[Further away from the House of Ravens, he can feel his powers seem to be returning to what they were, and seeing the efforts to cool down the mountain underway, he decides to go and help in the best way he can. He has no ice magic of any kind, but he can protect the people who are doing what needs to be done.
The unfortunate boar who tried to trample him is very, very surprised to take a punch to the side of the head that sends it flying several feet backwards.]
I'll keep those away from the phoenixes while you load them with the water! Keep going!
[Option 2 - Closed to Anurr]
[And then, Xie Lian remembers ... something.
He doesn't have ice powers. But someone he knows does. During a lull in the fighting, his hand go inside his robe to grab the braid he has been carrying for months now.
It probably won't work, but in the situation they're in, he might as well try. So he holds the braid in one hand, and his crystal in the other.]
... Anurr, can you hear me? We could use some of what you unleashed on Taravast right about now.
[Option 3]
[Well, now he has a sort of blizzard at his fingertips... and literally no idea of how to wield it. So maybe the first order of things is to actually get back up and close to the mouth of the volcano, and ... he can probably ask some of the people up there with ice powers how this works. Hopefully.]
... That's really cold.
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( He bides his time: a slow, careful, calculated apparition. Some might say, perhaps Lord Anurr has been alerted of the day's happenings. Perhaps some delays are more strategic than others.
His face is wide-eyed innocence and a tentative smile, when he shows it: )
Hello. This is Haltham. How do you do today?
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it's here, it's happening | aftermath
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magnus bane | open
002. Ice Capades
003. The After-Party
one medium-rare raven coming up (for now)
( Once upon a midday dreary, while Wangji slaughtered rather merry,
Over dais plates many and a volcano ready to soar —
While his sword scratched earth, nearly clapping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of someone gently rapping, rapping his shoulder amid war.
'Tis a fool, he muttered, tapping awkwardly at war—
He'll go away if you ignore.
Ah, distinctly Wangji remembers, while he rushes to dismember;
And each cultist's dying ember sketches fresh ghost on volcanic floor.
Wearily, dreams of tomorrow, when he'll reap patience from his sorrow,
For now there's this bird to borrow, ugly as sin, its face a sore
For the rare and hideous folly of the bird that squeaks for sure
And how Wangji would throttle it, evermore.
And the awkward, sad, uncertain voice of this man — is Magnus wearing curtains?
Truly, foreign fashions fill Wangji with terrors never felt before;
So that now, nigh-gagging at their meeting, he yet stops to give in greeting — )
Relinquish her. You risk to wound her to her core.
( This fool of a warlock, dallying with the bird like a bore,
Wangji offers his arm and little more. )
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burd.
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002.
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allison hargreeves | ota + closed
ii. fire and brimstone (a) - closed to five/other sacrifices
iii. fire and brimstone (b) - ota
iv. the aftermath - ota
v. wildcard
aftermath / let's rock'n'roll
( There is a stench to them, after sacrifice, of lamp oil burned thick and fats seared and candle wax, simmered. Of fire embers, stoking. When Lan Wangji was trained, he called it the wait — a body learning itself in decay, biology rewriting itself amid confusion. Skin and bones that have entrapped a force they cannot contain, but believe, since they digest foreign ingredients so often, surely this too is only another challenge to metabolise, hurriedly. Flesh is arrogant, infatuated with its own tyranny. It does not think, Spit now, save yourself. It consumes. It is consumed, inevitably.
Spirits roar, and Lan Wangji hears nothing of their roiling, only a strange, muted discordance, as if all nature hums as one, from the crops that tip and titter in night's breeze, to grasshoppers learning fresh song — but for Allison energy, silent. Corrosive. Asynchronised.
Uninvited, he takes the seat the next suitor frees, nodding with empty, callous indifference when the elderly man mutters, i>The woman's mad, thinks too much of herself. Put a scar on her, or see her past her birthing years, she wouldn't be so choosy. Hell hath few furies like a father, his matchmaking scorned. Deserted, Allison and Lan Wangji are as if carved stone before the crackling fire, all pallor and set jaws, and too many words drowned, unspoken.
Too often, he does not break silence first. It slips of him: )
One day, I shall be as they. Negotiating my son's marriage letters.
( In close horizon, youths dance heady steps that devolve into a chase in the crop beds. A part of Wangji must wonder how many fool's weddings were brokered in haste on this day, governed by the blinding, empty relief of disaster averted. A blessed day, certain to bode newlyweds well.
His gaze does not walk Allison's face to ask what she gave the grooms and brides already. )
Your spouse will worry.
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aftermath
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aftermath.
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iii
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izuminokami kanesada | touken ranbu
[Okay, yeah, after seeing that one tribute turn into actual goo? Kanesada definitely thinks these priests have to go. Different cultures are fine and all that, but human sacrifice is, uh, pretty messed up. Also, at least put your sacrifices out of their misery instead of making them suffer for an extended period of time.
Needless to say, as soon as the Beastmaster arrives and everything turns to chaos, Kanesada joins the fray. He's foregone the mantle of Shinsengumi blue he usually wears and has his long hair pulled back in a ponytail because damn is it hot in here, meaning he's a streak of red as he rushes toward the remaining tributes and one of the people guarding them.
Usually, Kanesada refrains from killing humans during missions, since his enemy is something altogether different, but, again, there's that whole human sacrifice thing and that just won't fly.
With his blade drawn, he slashes at a guard, catching him by surprise. His sword cuts through clothing and flesh easily and the man falls, clutching at his long, diagonal wound. Kanesada quickly turns his attention to the next guard, though he's lost the element of surprise now. This second guard takes a swing at him with his own shoddy sword, which Kanesada easily blocks, but this confrontation only attacks more attention. They have to keep the remaining tributes safe. If only he had some more help. If only Kunihiro were here...they'd be a nearly unstoppable force.]
2. let there be blood, birb version
[One of the things with battle is that one can easily find themselves in a completely new situation without realizing how they've gotten there. For Kanesada, this means he suddenly has a bird foisted upon him.]
Eh!?
[He's given no time to juggle holding his sword in one hand and grasping a leash in the other. And then it seems that he's still given no time to react to the fact that there is an angry mob that has focused their collective attention on him.
Or is it the bird?
Either way, this is a pain in the ass. He deflects some attacks one-handed while side-stepping others, but there are still a lot of people coming after him.]
Oi! What the hell? I'm not a babysitter!
3. thinking of the civilians
[As soon as the battle comes to its conclusion, Kanesada feels it's safe for him to leave. The House of Ravens is in a literal volcano, obviously, and he is a sword, and the fear of melting is incredibly real.
And yet, despite being sweat-drenched and bloody, a very pretty woman claims him as her personal bodyguard. So he takes her to Ke-Waihu with every intention of leaving her side in order to help anyone else who needs it. Except as soon as she's safe, she plasters herself to his front and smiles up at him.
This isn't quite right -
She pulls Kanesada down for a kiss. He pushes her away as soon as the surprise wears off.]
What are you doing? I mean, I know I'm pretty and all that, but -
You saved me. We are now husband and wife, or, at least, we should be.
Eh!?
4. wildcard!
[eyyyyy baybeeeee]
that birb, and also, those geriatrics???
When you are a bird of destiny, a portend of calamity, the heir of predators, of oracles, of great desecrators of the war field — when you round the mute beam of your beady gaze on lesser creatures, and, great or small, they each know the hour of their passing comes, and so they scatter — when you are the muse of poets and writers and artistry, when sculptors behold you as they might a great king &mdas;
...and you're stuck traded from arm to arm, like the disciple of a pleasure house, each time more and more gracelessly positioned. It's not that Lan Wangji sympathises with the bird's long-suffering squeaks and sighs, so much that he watches it sprawl on Kanesada's arm now, climbing his shoulder with an absence of enthusiasm that infant disciples typically reserve for winter's cold stream ablutions. And he knows.
He knows.
This bird has witnessed many a tragedy, and the lion's share of them have worn human faces and trotted it around today. It's for the raven's sake, more than that of Kanesada, that Lan Wangji intercedes to cut the crowd as if it were cloying, muddied waters, and Bichen's length glistens like a quiet salvation from spatters of stale soot and blood and the spittle of some great, old fool, who throws himself forth — collapses? — to capture the raven. More elders swarm behind him, teeth clattering, eyes squinted.
Awkwardly, Lan Wangji breaks the old man's fall, shudders at the definitive creak of his yielding joints, and politely settles the elder on his feet (for the precepts advise to spare elders kindness and the courtesy of not murdering them first during your volcanic promenades).
Hissed at Kanesada behind him, as Lan Wangji rises from crouch to swing Bichen in a low, jolting arc and deter a second assailant: )
Consider a strategic retreat.
( Please, and thank you, for we do not subscribe to animal cruelty in this house, but also, half the elders of Ke-Waicai are raining upon them, and, really, it's a strange thing, fighting off geriatrics with murmured apologies and a distinct shortage of tangyuan. )
these priorities, wangji
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Daenerys Targaryen | ASOIAF
[The magic feels heavy here, as it had in the House of the Undying. Having seen apparitions and shadows before, tempted by various images and lures, Dany is prepared to wander through the pathways and past the crumbling columns. There is nothing here that is worse than the Undying trying to feed on her, biting here and attempting to consume her.
But there is still a voice, Viserys's, whispering to her as though he were standing behind her. 'Dany, please,' Each time, it was as if she felt his breath against her ear. She would turn sharply, clutching her chest like the frightened little girl she had once been. Nothing, always nothing. The whispers though would continue. Reminders of the things she never hand, accusations that her companions were happier than she was. 'They have families, they have homes. They never had to beg on the street or sell their mother's crown. They didn't kill their mother. They didn't kill their brother.' It was powerful and overwhelming.
Dany would stop to lean against a column, pressing her palms to her ears, trying to block it out. But she didn't possess the "dragon" that her brother did, not towards friends and the anxiety to find the boy overpowered all else.
After each bout, she'd hurry forward, as though she could outrun her sin.]
Further in. We might find signs of him further in.
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[The place is vast, and while there is little time to search, going at it blindly will not in fact help.]
The place is more than half in ruins. If someone has resided here, they probably had to make their own shelter, using whatever they could find.
... This is no place for a child to survive on their own.
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Anduin Wrynn | Warcraft
As soon as Anduin had come to understand the truth behind the House of Ravens, he knew he had to be there, when the temple opened at last. For the children, brought there to be sacrificed. For the thought that the villages might bring more. The mountain grows hungry, and while allegedly the Beastmaster's son had gone willingly, he had heard Dong-Yun's screams as they had tried to drag him off. No child deserves such a fate. Not if he can help it.
Waiting on the grounds overnight for the temple to open is perhaps the most challenging part. Anduin huddles himself within his cloak, warily casting pale eyes around himself, where his companions are huddling for shelter as well.
My son, a deep and graveled voice echoes in Anduin's mind, and he stands quickly, wildly casting about himself in search of its source.
"...father?"
LET THERE BE BLOOD
Anduin has no solid plan as to how he means to aid these tributes, which he realizes may have been an oversight, especially given the size of the crowd. He pulls his cloak tighter around himself, trying to blend in and edge closer toward the group of them, adorned in their wreathes as they are shuffled toward the open dias.
He tries not to seem too horrified as the first child is walked across a narrow plank out over the mouth of the volcano, though he cannot help but cast a silent prayer for them as they start to scream. Something terrible is happening to them, a change coming over them, their form twisting into something other than themselves. Though Anduin is no master of the arcane, he can feel -- something happening in the air around them as well.
The crowd shuffles, quick to edge another of the tributes towards the dias, and Anduin begins to steel himself to do -- what, he does not know exactly -- but then. Chaos erupts, for lack of any better word. Snarls burst through the air as the Beastmaster and his creatures descend upon the crowd of villagers, who turn to fight and flee in equal measure.
Anduin knows he will not get a chance like this again. Turning to the nearest child, he scoops them up in his arms and grabs another by the hand, tugging them away with him in the maelstrom. He whips around to the nearest other-worlder in the crowd, a wild look in his eyes.
"Help me."
FIRE AND BRIMSTONE
Once he and Wrathion have flown some of the child tributes to safety, Anduin takes a moment to take stock of the situation. Despite having had the knowledge that the mountain was going to erupt, things have all escalated rather suddenly. If they are to stand any chance of at the very least slowing the progress of this eruption, if not stopping it altogether, they are going to need water -- and a lot of it.
Anduin is honestly surprised that he is able to convince any of the villagers to help, if he's being honest with himself. He could not blame them if they would rather flee to the ocean, for safety. It would be their right. But if they are to stand any chance of saving the village itself, at that, then they should stay and help gather water and fly it up the mountain with them as well.
"Down there!" Anduin cries, guiding the villagers -- who have flown up on phoenixes with Anduin and his dragon -- towards the dias and the chaos below. "Clear the way!!!"
They're going to need a lot of space for a dragon landing...
LET THERE BE BLOOD
As did Darkwhisper cultists. Xanesh's harsh voice still echoes in his mind:
Your father proved incapable of resisting the Old Gods, little whelp. Such hubris to think you would fare any better!
He has had several harsh lessons in thinking himself immune to outside influence.
This one, however, he thinks he can solve -- just as he solved the last issue he had with mind control. The Beastmaster's creatures are rushing through the crowd, and Wrathion has one hand on the hilt of his blade as he scans the area for the figure leading them.
There.
No matter what the Huntress says, everything can die. If he can kill an Old God, what's one undead lord?
Wrathion growls to himself, focus narrowing, and takes a half step when a voice trickles through to him.
Anduin.
He turns and frowns at the child in the man's arms, at the one being lead, then half glances back. Anxiety crawls over his skin, and Wrathion works his tongue over his teeth. Once upon a time, the choice between a decisive victory -- one that gave true catharsis, revenge -- and assisting someone would have been less clear cut.
Yet Anduin Wrynn always did complicate things, and he never liked the idea of revenge to begin with.
Wrathion forces himself to let out the breath he's been holding, sheathes Succession and flexes his fingers to ease the tension out of his body.
He knows where his loyalties are, and where the priorities of that person are. Plus, he's always been efficient. With effort, he can achieve the whole range of goals -- villagers saved, volcano calmed, Beastmaster slain. He's a Black Dragon, after all. When he puts his mind to it, he can achieve quite a lot in a short space of time.
Turning the rest of the way toward Anduin he takes a step closer, red eyes scanning the priest and then the crowd around them for anyone else who may need evacuating. There's no way Anduin would stop at two, so better to work ahead of him.
"Where are we taking them?" he prompts. Just as far as back into Ke-Waicai? Or further, Ke-Waihu?
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- Wei Wuxian and his stale water throwing corn at the statues throwing things at them while staring down other statues, the night before;
- He's just been handed off the raven and its leash, and now, he's the new target! Please uh. Help him...
- Protect him from attack as he plays his flute to help exorcise the remnants of spirits beneath that cracking mirror!
- In the aftermath, there's bonfires and stuff. There's also young people leaping over a bonfire. Hold his chicken leg, he's up next.
- Wildcard!
Either put a preference for which scenario in your comment/subject line and I'll write us a starter, or feel free to leap in with a starter based on that scenario, or invent your own! Prose or action brackets both good.statues ahoy
That, by the third breathless, near catastrophic escape from iminent collision with the overgrown statue that pursues them, Lan Wangji is overwhelmed by the depth of his connubial possibilities. When marriage splinters and threatens a cleaving, by all means: take the wife by the hand to ghost-whispered temple grounds; allow him the lay of crackling, destitute lands, each of Wei Ying's smiles a crafted carving like scratches on vellum — and enjoy the intimacy of a jolly hunt, when two lesser statues and their gargantuan brother slip free of their walled imprisonment to toast Wei Ying's sinful cup of stale water in kind.
( He had to drink, had to drink, always must drink, oh, Wei Ying, choke on it. )
It's not that Lan Wangji is unimpressed, exactly, only that a whirlwind of pebbles erodes his footing. The broderie of scars that strains his back bemoans abrasion, when the great statue collects Wei Ying and Wangji in one hand and throws, and Wangji remembers, at the last heartless moment, to grit his teeth and bear through swivelling them, Wei Ying trapped in his arms, so Wangji touches the wall first. And there should be a polite, but firmly respected limit to the number of asphyxiations he can suffer in one evening, stone claws corseting his neck until fine welts rise like lily blooms and rashes.
Now, by the seventh such attempt, Lan Wangji knows to calmly stab Bichen back until her sharp silver gaze snags on the wall's tender erosions, where even rock is belly-soft, and he cuts a deep gutting, cuts and twists. The stone's spirit whistles, more than wails, releasing him.
Night is ink and dark long shadow that devours half the cursed prettiness of Wei Ying's pallor. Lan Wangji's mouth is chalk and dust and soot, and all things pressed, all desiccation. He rasps, catches Wei Ying's wrist, tugs so they might flee again:
"The water. Fresh?" Perhaps cloying with the spectre of Lan Wangji's iminent vinegar? "Chilled? Satisfactory?"
Was it worth it, you miniature hyena that scavenges the last drip-drip-drip of joy from Lan Wangji's liver and laughter and lungs?
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3. first this and then they can go braid each other's hair
this is what they do at necromancy parties right
and then they tell jokes and/or ghost stories, same diff
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THIS HOUSE IS YOUR HOUSE (cw: violence, possible biting)
LET THERE BE BLOOD (cw: violence, tentacles)
THE AFTERMATH (cw: some cannibalism going on here)
tentaporn, you say
Throat a long line littered with the love bites of a particularly infuriated and somehow also bored bird, Lan Wangji doesn't crest the peaks of enthusiasm either. Dead and dying behind them, creatures of the nether world crowding each crevice, a storm brewing thick and slate and harrowing in the distance.
...and tendrils. Numerous, shifting, devastating, strange and... squelching tendrils, born of is favourite and only cannibal acquaintance, who lives to surpass himself in feats of flagrance. Most men draw a line of obscenity past which only limited-edition pieces of deranged erotic fiction need cross.
Kaneki simply infiltrates a tentacle past it. Then a second. A third. A quiet, friendly and... doubtlessly soon fornicating legion. And Lan Wangji, who has beheld many horrors in a life of errant journey, of search and failure and wonder — decides, sigh splintering his heart, his soul and his will to live, to bat the nearest lattice of tendrils with his cloth-seathed sword, and gently extricate the raven.
It spits at his cheek in gratitude. Beauty and grace. But it twitches, also, the frenzy of the hour stoking its animal fears, and Wangji's mouth comes dry, lips cracked, foot nearly slipped on a tentacle — )
Restrain yourself. You agitate it. ( To speak noting of the raven's leash, tangled on a floppy tentacle. )
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five hargreeves | the umbrella academy
The plan Five had before entering the House of Ravens fell apart almost the second he stepped foot inside. In one respect, it's an unexpected success when his curse is broken before he even starts to go about destroying whatever sacrificial alter is inside. Getting rid of it had been the entire point of coming there; stopping the sacrifices should have done the trick to satisfy his ancestral sin, if what Hermione suggested didn't work. That's why he tolerated the whole demeaning ordeal of getting the key in the first place.
Just when he thought he was getting a handle on what goes into breaking a curse, they changed the rules at the last moment. A paranoid part of him wonders if the whole thing was a lie and he'd been tricked into playing along to get him to open the doors. He'd been so desperate, he never would have seen it coming.
He could have left right after the wounds on hands miraculously vanish. Except they got word that the volcano is going to erupt, and the Beastmaster is on his way, and it's clear that everything is about to take a drastic turn. The first thing he thinks to do is teleport back to his siblings and see if the magic here can at least erase their curses before shit hits the fan, but when he tries to call on his powers, nothing happens. — And not in the way he's used to, when he's used up all his energy and simply can't summon the power to create holes into the fabric of space. Even when he's tired he could always feel it pushing back at him. This time it's just... gone. A part of him that's simply missing.
Five lets out a frustrated huff that's a far cry from the tantrum he wants to throw, but he also doesn't wait for anyone to explain what happened or what else he's walked into. He's been souring on teamwork since the forge, and he isn't going to let one disturbing side effect distract him. There's obviously more going on here than it seems. Most people might panic in his situation, but he's smart enough to find an advantage to the sudden unceremonious (temporary... it has to be temporary) loss of his powers.
"Okay. Plan B." It's really pointless to make a list when this comes after a long line of 'plan b's, he just likes to stay organized. He's not talking to anyone as he examines the area and takes note of all its statues, but old habits. "Whatever is in here that's doing this will probably do the same to the Beastmaster. Which means we might have a chance."
ii. let there be blood
Five doesn't rely solely on teleporting to win a fight, but it comes so naturally to him that in its absence he's forced adjust in a way that makes him less efficient than he likes to be. If he could rely on his ability, it would have been all too easy to keep one raven away from any prying hands. With his powers slow to return, he does his best to keep an eye on whoever has it, but his attention quickly turns to the chaos surrounding the tributes.
He's encouraged when he sees powers returning as they attack, and he keeps trying to test his recovery while the violence surges around the Beastmaster. Every now and then, when he attempts to avoid someone slamming into him, he blinks successfully but winds up either teetering on the edge of a cliff or in the middle of another charging beast. His powers are thankfully coming back, they're just a hell of a lot less accurate than usual. Space constantly spits him out halfway to his intended destination.
So he hadn't actually meant to run into whoever is holding the raven, but when he does, he quickly grabs at the leash before it gets away. "Be careful with that. It's the only thing between us and a horrible death, got it?"
Like it's their fault for not having it in a tighter grip. They should have been prepared for someone appearing out of nowhere.
iii. aftermath
Experience tells him that any victory he and his family achieve is almost always short lived. Once they're out of immediate danger, Five doesn't rest until he's absolutely certain nothing is waiting for them to let their guard down. He wouldn't put it past the Huntress to come out of the woodwork and announce her true intentions just as they're gathered to celebrate.
He's still somewhat in shock that it went as well as it did. The Beastmaster was actually defeated without major consequence, and he's got a brother to track down to see exactly how that happened. Allison seemed a little shaken, but overall, their luck really seems to have been in their favor. He got the impression that the Beastmaster was revered in the village, so he's surprised they were able to come to their senses and be grateful that he's dead. Apparently it's easy to sway a cult when the chips are down and they realize what's at stake. Five still bets they'll be back in the same place in a handful of years, but hopefully he won't be around to see it.
Their problems aren't gone by any stretch, but they're at least back to what they were before they came to this cursed village. It's depressing to realize that their entire stay has been nothing but a waste of time. He's no closer to finding the rest of his siblings or to lift whatever magic is blocking his memory. And separately, the whole episode in the volcano reminded Five of the mirror still inside him, absorbing bits of anguish from the sacrifices and making it harder to put completely from his mind.
Add to that, and the last few days have been catching up to him. Crisis seemingly avoided, he grudgingly writes off the rest of the day to find somewhere he can sit in peace. If he's ambitious, maybe he'll clean off the blood staining his clothes. On his way out of the crowd, he blinks in just to lift one of their bottles of alcohol, then decides he might as well meander towards the Beacon. They can't use it until he finds his siblings, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't get a closer look. He dreads the thought of coming back here to use it. They may have only just saved everyone, but if he has to go through any of this again he'll revisit his stance on leaving them all to burn.
iv. wildcard
As you like! Action or prose is fine with me. For anything else you want to plot out feel free to reach out (plurk/PM/discord) or hit up Five's plotting comment.
house of ravens | right before the rites get Real [TM]
There is a moment, faint and scattered, when he is fooled — lured, adrift enough to ponder the virtues of collecting this small, ragged, destitute child from the temple roads and deliver him unto safety, behind collapsed pillars and tumbling walls that weep down marble and moon-ignited pewter.
But then, there's the edge of a blade, Five's acrid little voice, and, one by one, Lan Wangji's noble intentions paralyse in graves of rubble and ash, of smoke rising. This is a child for a snake's care, and for no mother to love. Only, he recalls Allison Hargreeves and her strange caretaking warmth, and how the siblings huddle and keep whispered company, and there is a hint there, then, an indication that whatever fires forged Five thawed first, before they singed. There was a mother, once, for all of them. There must have been.
No matter. Wangji and Five are together, as ever, and for all his feet slip in soot and his whites billow in hard wind like a war banner, for all Bichen's red-drenched in viscera and proud, Lan Wangji can yet serve his companion in their quandary. They work well together, at least when they are not assailed from each direction.
Now, the greatest worry — that they should scatter, and Lan Wangji barely interrupts his run to nod on towards downed pillars that might yet shield them, while a contingent of statues lines and stampedes onwards to re-enter temple walls, with dawns. Better to not stumble in their broad and violent paths.
"You think him our foremost battle?" Run, you fool, jump behind the pillars, scuttle.
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iii Aftermath
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hermione granger
"There's not nearly enough statuary of ravens, if you ask me," she murmurs under her breath, as the night advances and she peers out at her surroundings. Huddled up against a wall, in close proximity to a group of other-worlders, Hermione Granger is doing the thing she has very little training in: she waits.
This whole experience has been an exercise in patience, and impulse control. She has been aching for a fight against those people-sacrificing cultists for days now, and with the keys in possession, the group has infiltrated the House of Ravens at night. They wait the dawn, and Hermione has feedback.
"Why call it the House of Ravens at all? I'm so disappointed." It's gallows humour, or something like that.
b. this house is your house (individual curse version)
"I've got this," she can be heard whispering to herself, wand clutched in her hands. The night has advanced, and with it so have the whispers come. They remind her of her failures, of her humiliations.
Everywhere she looks, she thinks she sees spellcasters who probably think that she is just a child, and to make matters worse, she feels weaker here. So of course she thinks to take matters into her own hand, and prove herself to others, even if they might not be looking for her flaws necessarily. Does that other-worlder look in need of hushed assistance? No?
Too bad, they're going to get it. "I can do that." Whatever that is.
c. fire and brimstone (magical absorption)
Heights, of course it'll be heights. But there is something about the volcano that she might fix, if she could get closer to the mouth of it and so onto the plank it goes. The plank does not wobble too hard beneath her, thankfully, as she walks to the end of it. The heat is blistering, and she's already sweating bullets, heart in her throat.
Through the steam coming from the inside of the volcano, she tries to find the mirror that Emilia referenced, wand in her hand. She's learnt so far that apparition is out of her control in this place (which bodes poorly given the wobbly plank), but maybe mending spells will work.
As she opens her mouth to cast one, though, it feels as if she is hit by a wave. One minute passes, two, three, and Hermione absorbs the excess of spiritual energy, which flocks to her like moths to a flame. For anyone looking, five minutes in will be when her knees will wobble. At minute six, she will go down to her knees on the plank, holding onto it for dear life, but whatever she's doing might still work. At least to her it feels like it's working. At minute nine, you might notice she's failing to get up on her feet.
Minute eleven, and faintly she tries to push herself up, then starts crawling back on her hands and knees. Give her a minute (and no more than four).
d. aftermath of magical volcano suckage
It definitely feels like her magic is coming back, at least, this far from the volcano. She is sitting on the forest floor against a tree, a travelling cloak thrown around her shoulders more for comfort than heat, and a waterskin with water in her hands that she's slowly taking sips out of.
At this point at least, she's not feeling weak. Dread, though, has settled - something tells her she has made a huge mistake today in the volcano, but at the same time - it's not over.
e. wildest of cards
[ooc: Insert your own prompt here, I'm flexible. Happy to write some somft aftermath interractions on request too.]
a.
Eda may often have a lackadaisical attitude about life, but she can be very astute if need be, and since she got here, her senses have been sharpened (well, where they haven't been severely dulled by her ancestral curse, but that's gone now) to look for clues to ensure her survival and return to her own homeworld.
It's going to a dangerous mission, and Eda doesn't always go into those with a great will to live, but it's different now. Her kids are waiting for her at home, and it's all she can do to keep playing along and not completely freak out thinking about how they must be doing all alone at home.
Oh yes, the waiting game is hard for her too.
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d. dw your concubestie is here for you
my darling shareholder
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one serving of chaos (I guess it will kinda end up a-ish+b-ish)
we better make sure she doesn't yeet him into the volcano
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Lan Sizhui | The Untamed
Sizhui is doing his best to help with what he can discern - while his spiritual energy can cool things down, he is aware now why his affinity is more towards fire, but that won't help. Instead, he extends his senses to how he might strengthen the suppressing mirror - and he finds the answers, in many places that are difficult to reach.
On foot.
But he has the advantage of being able to use his sword for flight, even with his abilities dampened, which will also leave his hands free to bring more of the black water at once. It is not pleasant to be so close to it, of course, but what needs to be done always takes priority.
Flying by on his sword, braving the edge of the burning abyss to reach a cranny with some dark water... he doesn't seem afraid of it at all.
And he comes back to the mirror, with another container.
"Here. A little more, hopefully it will hold things up a little longer."
II. Fire And Brimstone - medical assistance
It is during his looking for dark water that he realizes what has happened to those who had to walk the narrow path across the volcano. His eyes widen and he descends to try to assist - with as much spiritual energy as he can spare, as well as his newly acquired healing skills.
"I'm here to help." Soft voice, even though not everyone is conscious - how much of the damage is physical and how much is spiritual has yet to be seen, but he'll do his best in either case.
III. Aftermath - Ke-Waiar
After what he learned during their visit in Ke-Waiar and the beginning of the affliction, once things settle down he does set out to check on the villagers there once more. Their acceptance of how things wore, rather than trying to twist reality to their wishes appealed to him, and he wishes to know how they fare, in the wake of the disaster.
He will welcome company on the way, or during his queries, of course.
IV. Wildcard
ooc: Have your own idea for the youth here? Go right ahead.
dark wateeeeeeeeer | surfing time
Freefall lands him in the volcanic mouth, fast. Gravity, the friction of raining stone, heat like a hundred slaps clawing his cheek. Bichen breaks his fall, slipped at his hip's side, called to hand, so he may climb the glistened pale width of her after. Difficult, to barter balance, with half the strength of a fire world wailing in his ear, with the suffocation of howling dead and resent coating his lungs like accrued dark shrapnel on an ink stone.
He does not ask if they hunger more for Sizhui's light, burning brighter. Wonders, if it were love of him when they set their mouths on Wei Ying's heart and shoulders, and their hands clasped his throat round, and they throttled him down. The dead have ways beyond hunger, past reason.
Lan Wangji's feet slip on condensation, metal weeping from heat. He steadies — drags both arms beside him and sends out the emissaries of his qi, a petty legion of talismans, intended less to cauterize the surroundings of their madness, than to dull the teeth of the overwhelming wrath. The strength of the volcano's dead opposes him: he purchases them a tenth of a shi, and he names the deed well done.
And to Sizhui, ahead, where Lan Wangji yearns to reach but must restrain himself, because his son is his partner in this hunt, bringing — heavens help Wangji, that he must both bask in and loathe to admit it — experience:
"Hasten the pours. The dead burn restless."
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i. dark water
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jens | OPEN for business
[ There’s an unfortunate shortage of good, easily accessible spots to pitch water into the volcano from, and it’s only complicated by the number of people, steeds, and whatever flying in and out.
A good time for a little engineering knowhow, perhaps.
Jens is in the thick of things. He’s erected a few poles with a rope-and-pulley system connecting them, leading from a clear patch that makes for a good landing strip straight to a small, slightly precarious spot where someone’s waiting to dump incoming water, and he’s directing a few other bystanders into keeping the whole contraption running. ]
- yes, right here, just hang the buckets on here as they come in. And you, here, if you could just keep this crank turning...
[ It’d be nice if he had an external power source, like the lift system in the Falkes demesne, but hey, you work with what you’ve got, and he’s watching for any need to rotate people in if someone’s wearing out. ]
ii. the aftermath
[ The partying after all’s said and done is a nice change, sure, but it comes with some hurdles of its own - hurdles mostly in the form of nice, well-meaning village parents playing matchmaker.
Jens is that unfortunate combination of nice, hard-working, and knowing a useful trade that is proving to be absolute catnip for parents trying to find someone who’ll do right by their daughter. He’s also too polite to tell them to fuck off.
So here he is, trying to gently dissuade yet another potential parent-in-law. ]
...no, really, I can’t settle down here, I’m already on retainer to Lord Wolffort. And you’ve already built your lives here, I couldn’t just take her away from that, right?
[ Right?
The daughter in question actually seems a bit distracted, gazing at…well, you, maybe, if you’re more of a dark bad boy (girl?) type. Maybe you’re willing to fall on that sword and help a bro out?
Maybe you’re enjoying watching him squirm. Who knows. ]
iii. whatever
[ Or just hit me up if you want to do something else, that’s good too! ]
ii
Until he sees a familiar figure undergoing his own stressful situation. And, ah, yes, Kanesada had been accosted by a fox lady not too long ago, so he sympathizes with his smith friend. The ale will have to wait.
He approaches the scene and claps a hand on Jens' shoulder.]
That's right. I'm Lord Wolffort and this is my man and I just can't part with him. You understand.
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moiraine damodred ► wheel of time
right after her GOAT moment -
He haunts the volcano more indentured than its ghosts, wisps of his silks like the lent veils of maiden moon's mourning. Spirits whisper in his wake, with the quiet, abstracted animal hunger of creatures confined to instincts their form is too meagre to contain. He had thought, more foolish the man, that the rim of a volcano would be desert-like and raw, like a scab scratched too long, strings and striations and crisped, thin skins.
Instead, he walks amid wet and damp is the print of his foot, the quiet, morbid indignation of earth unsaddled from its constancy, dust deranged. No sect precepts bar exploration, but there lives in the Lan the tacit understanding that, best of all, is to leave the world untouched except by blinding glory. He drags himself tattered like frayed parchment to the mouth of the volcano — where he sees Moiraine dark and drained, like algae in stormed waters. Depleted, and there's a sting of ice amidst the heat, an impossible, expansive contradiction. She has breathed cold within the fount of the mountain, and he does not ask — does not scold — barely bridges their distance, hand soft when he clasps her wrist, chains it.
Blindly, mutely, harrowed, two fingers search the soft inside of her wrist, seek the empty lines of her meridians. She does not cultivate — a third finger, the gesture sketched — his liberal donation of the energy his core produces may go wasted without a home, scattered. He cannot say. Healing is a blind art, guesswork. Better the attempt than the regret thereafter. )
What did you do? ( He has asked this enough one day to suffice him a lifetime. It rasps of him, peels flesh off his bones. What is it men do, when they lose faith? This. )
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aftermath roomie stuff
Diego Hargreeves | OTA
Let there be blood
Diego is still a good fighter even without his abilities in tact, it's why he stayed in the House of Ravens -- well, one of the reasons, anyways. He's got a bit of a hero complex as always and while yes, the Beastmaster's story is sad, he's still done a lot of fucked up shit. And he's undead. So doing him a favor, right?
So when other people get the chance to try to talk to him and the attempt to captured him have failed. The Graces (Diego's five wolves, who have been granted immunity luckily) swarm around the evil dick, snapping and biting at him, giving Diego is opening. He grabs several of his knives and although he does not have the accuracy he normally would he throws each of them, managing to get a few in the heart, causing the Beastmaster to drop to the ground. He also throws a couple at his head just in case they're playing by zombie rules.
The Graces might still be biting at him. That's probably fine, right?
The Aftermath
Diego is enjoying himself, maybe telling anyone who will listen about his daring heroics. He's mostly eating well and drinking lots of water because his body is a temple and it needs to be taken care of after all that shit.
Also if people try to come on to him, he covers his heart and shakes his head.
"Still mending a broken heart, I'm afraid."
It's not a total lie, even if he tries not to think about Lila as much as he can.
aftermath
"I just wanted to ask if your curse is gone." She's not good at mending broken hearts herself, so hey - all yours, Diego. "Five was worried."
Blood
the aftermath
viktor | ota
ii. keep away
iii. aftermath
iv. wildcard
fire and brimwolf
The second bears the blade Bichen, still sheath-fettered, flaunted before himself as a shield, while the beam of Lan Wangji's gaze narrows on the boy, prickles his face for early indications of strain or hurt or thrall.
After all, he comes crowded by wolves and wolf-men, and though evolution entertains itself with the occasional divestment of cosmetic biological precepts, it unfailingly stands by the imperatives of the food chain. In the beady, dark eyes of a wolf, a young man is the healthy, flushed padding of a dinner bowl.
...though, to take an honest measure of Viktor, but he is better as bones for broth. Far from Lan Wangji to drown in details. Above, black birds scream forlorn. The skies darken with the mountain's thickened breath.
Unflinching, Wangji's sword stays level. And, rasping: )
The creatures have not harmed you?
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Jon Snow | Game of Thrones | Beacon — open
It’s harder when it’s Daenerys. He stands waiting with her, holding her hand, each of them pressed against the other’s side. When the first people go through, he turns and kisses her. They will see each other again no matter what, he says, and then he also says a lot of things too softly for most others to hear.
And then the beacon takes him.
A few minutes later, it brings him back.
He looks the same. He looks dazed. It has only been moments: you could eat an apple in the time he’s been gone. It has been six moons and more: much has changed for him. The memories of this place, these people, come back to him fresh, bright, like any other memory of recent days. At the same time, they’re in the past. Six moons ago, or now? And what of the days that have passed since then?
He has fallen in love with the same woman twice. He looks around for her.
Later, but before they leave the village, he can be found sitting off to the side, looking troubled.
[OOC: please note that before this happens, Jon will have made a network post with some interesting info! I do not have all of that info together yet, though, so I won’t be able to allude to it yet. Assume that in the aftermath of the fighting, he helped clean up politely for a while, then disappeared into the forest for a day or two.]
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The boy still had to be found and, if this worked, she could still leave eventually.
When he disappeared, she finally let the pain knotting in her chest out. It spilled over her cheeks, rivulets of tears sprinkling the ground. And then, as if in prayer, Jon appeared again. She hadn't thought about how he might feel or what this might mean. Instead, she threw her arms around him and held him close, letting her sobs finally echo across the fields.
He needed time and she let him wander away, talking to whomever might want to ask what happened. When finally she needed to be with him again, if only to reassure herself he was there, Dany found him sitting alone. She took a seat beside him, placing her hand on his arm.]
I'm sorry. I know you would rather be home.
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