TDM + GAME OPENING 🎉

[beleos]

Who: Shard-Bearers, new and old
What: Seeds take root
Where: The Tree of Life, Highstorm, Springstar
When: October 14th and onwards
Warnings: Potential for (mild) body horror, death, dismemberment

I. BEARING FRUIT (new characters only)

It starts out as a pleasant dream. You’re in your favorite place, with your favorite people. It’s a moment of idyllic comfort.

And then, it goes wrong.

The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, they’re not stars. You’re certain. They’re watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people you’re with, but they’re frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.

So you run, even though you know you won’t escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. There’s agony as if you’re being ripped apart, and then—

You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a woman’s voice speaks gently.

I’m sorry it couldn’t be saved. But, come, it’s time to wake.

You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, it’s odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, it’s warm. Familiar. Important. You don’t know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.

The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as you’re buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you don’t notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.

From a seed you’re born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.

And once you’ve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.

II. MORAL HAZARD

There are new Shard-Bearers at the Tree of Life, and Yima has asked that the earlier arrivals go to greet them and help them. These aren’t people from Horos, after all, so they’ll have many, many questions. As Yima explains, the roots of the tree rise up to create caverns underneath, and it’s there you’ll find the new Shard-Bearers. And indeed, with careful steps to not slip on the mossy roots, down you go. Perhaps Communion will help you find the new Shard-Bearers, but it might be a confusing process for them.

The roots all start to look the same, to the point that you’re sure that you’ve already been through this passage. You turn around, and most of the people you had come here with are gone, if not all of them. It’s confusing and unsettling, and strangest of all.. You’re starting to feel ill, even if that wasn’t something normally possible for you. But continuing forward, you do eventually find an unfamiliar face of a new Shard-Bearer. They look no better than you feel.

Before introductions, however, roots around you shift suddenly until you’re enclosed in a room together. From the roots, a face forms in the wall. It speaks in a creaking, uneven tone, as if it weren’t used to speaking at all.

Give to take. A sacrifice. To live.

---

LET'S PLAY A GAME...

As the Dryad will explain, characters are now trapped in a room and have been poisoned by the spores that the lichens underfoot release. An antidote lays beyond the roots the dryad has curled around you, but to access it, you must make a sacrifice.

Characters can pick one of the following options, but the decision must be made unanimously. If one character takes a drastic action (such as murdering another), it’s counted as a failure for the group.

• Each of you must offer up a personal/treasured memory. The memory will be shared in Communion with all characters assembled, and then will be destroyed. No character will retain the memory or memory of its Communion.
• Each of you must offer up something physical. A finger, a toe, an ear, it’s your choice. The dryad will offer a knife if this is chosen that will sever the body part of choice cleanly and immediately stop any bleeding.
• Offer up another. Kill one person in the room.
• Refusing is also a valid option. Characters will get more ill as they debate until they start to find it difficult to breathe, and they’ll die quickly after.

The following is OOC knowledge that will not be known IC: The consequences of this game are about intent, and thus are not real. When characters are freed from the tree’s thrall, they’ll have their memories/body parts/life intact.

This can be done in groups of 2 to 4 players, and Loremasters recommend three if you can swing it! It’s more fun when you get in philosophical debates, right? Regardless, when your group comes to a decision, please record it here. These don’t have to be fully threaded out to be recorded, so the conclusion can be discussed OOC if you prefer. Actions can be submitted until October 21st, after which groups will be informed of what comes of their choice…

When a group receives the antidote, they'll be released from the tree's thrall... But will have a hard time waking up. It feels like something has grabbed onto their spine.

III. DREAMING OF HOME

You may wake with a start from your deliberations (or arguments) with a jolt of pain from the base of your spine as something is pulled away rapidly. A dark-haired man who looks to be in his thirties or so holds you carefully, but as soon as you start to regain your senses, he sets you back and holds up his hands.

Woah— Woah there, it’s fine! The tree was, uh, trying to take you back is all. You’re fine now.

As long as you’re not going to attack him, he offers a friendly smile and a hand to shake.

Name’s Cyrus. Sorry about the rude awakening. Let’s get your friend here unhooked too.

And indeed, glancing over, you can see the person you met in that room laying nearby, and it looks like a vine has snaked underneath them to exactly where something had just been pulled from you… Best not to think about it, maybe. Or if you've been unlucky enough to be one of the last people rescued, you might find vines and roots starting to grow into your skin. It's fine!

---

CYRUS, THE TRIBUNE

Cyrus is the NPC heading up the Meridian Faction, and is available to thread with under this header. Cyrus has come to the Tree of Life to help rescue the Shard-Bearer’s from the Tree, so he’s not going to be inclined to explain too much right away, since he’s on a mission, but he’ll stick around once everyone is successfully freed from Prompt 2 to speak with anyone that wants to. The following is just an OOC summary of information in case you do not need to thread with Cyrus:

Cyrus will gladly introduce himself to everyone, and will further explain his position in Meridian and Springstar (see the NPC Page) and the goals of Meridian itself (see the Faction Page, save for the italicized section). But most importantly, he’ll explain that he knows it sounds like something overly optimistic. It’s fair to be skeptical. He’ll produce a small glass bead from a bag he’s carrying. It looks like the necklace he wears, though not lit up. He’ll explain that the force of Meridian is a gift and can be a tether to your home, if you let it. As his fingertips light up, the energy is infused into the bead, which he’ll hand to you.

Taking the bead into your hands, you’ll take a bird’s eye view of your home world as if your consciousness is split, since you’ll still perceive standing in front of Cyrus at the tree. Rather than a vision, the view of your world is absolutely real, you’re certain. It’s a glimpse at the world that you thought destroyed, and if you focus on a particular place or a particular person, you’ll find the view shifting rapidly to it. No one you watch is aware of your presence, but simply continues about their daily life, whatever that is. But after about a minute, the view will fade as the light in the bead also fades.

That’s an iliachtida, a sunbeam, and when infused with Meridian’s light, allows someone Harmonized to it to check in on their world, he explains. It also acts as an anchor that tethers their soul to their world in the Timestream. With it, their world can’t entirely disappear, so eventually, they can go home. It’s a gift he’ll allow anyone that wants it to keep it, but indeed, they’ll be unable to use it again without first Harmonizing to Meridian.

To help manage threadload for the Loremasters playing Cyrus, we ask that you only tag him with the character you are most likely to app. Similarly, new tag-ins will not be accepted after Monday, October 17th.

III. SPRINGSTAR, αιώνιος ήλιος

After your ordeals at the Tree of Life, perhaps you’re drawn to Springstar, the city of eternal sun and the seat of Meridian.

It’s currently (and fittingly) Spring in Springstar, and the bustling city is coming back to life after finishing up winter. It’s not as if the winters are especially harsh here, but you’ll quickly get the sense that the people of Springstar are vivacious and happy to celebrate. You’ll find the Entertainment District to be the liveliest, whether it’s at a rowdy bar or a brothel, but no matter what, you’re welcome with open arms and without question.

Of course, if you’d just like to use the chance to explore the city alongside your fellow Shard-Bearers, that’s fine too. It’s easy to get lost in the crowds of Springstar and see all the city has to offer.

IV. HIGHSTORM, луны-близнецы

Or maybe Highstorm, the city of twin moons and the seat of Zenith is more to your liking. It’s certainly the quieter of the two cities and is a relaxing, meditative place if that’s what you prefer. The chill in the air is constant, since it’s Autumn in Highstorm and the eternal night doesn’t help keep things warm, exactly. Snow isn’t out of the question at this time of the year, but it’s beautiful in the moonlight.

Because of the cooler weather than Highstorm is prone to, you’ll find many of its delights inside rather than outside. Libraries and museums are popular in the more introspective city, though it’s easy enough to find something that might please you. For example, the indoor hot baths are popular at this time of the year too. You’ll find the people are kind, if cool-tempered, though if you mention the fact that you’re a Shard-Bearer or allied with Zenith, they’re more likely to warm up.

Though much like Springstar, it may just be more interesting to explore the city with a fellow Shard-Bearer. And as a resident may warn you, it’s best to stay in the city. Wandering out into the marshes and forests isn’t advised. Of course, if you do, just contact a Loremaster to find out why. ♥

NOTES

Welcome to Kenos! As a reminder, all players are required to fill out an application, which are now open. This does include characters/players from Aion Teleos, so please don’t forget to fill one out! Any character/player that does not submit an application will be swept from the communities and the Discord after applications close.

Activity Check is optional this month, but is highly recommend so Christy can check her fancy program so that you can earn Activity Reward Tokens! Activity will be able to be submitted shortly after applications close. You can find more about how we do AC here.

This log is Game Canon. Any characters who are not apped to the game will disappear. If Cyrus or Yima are asked, they’ll explain that this happens sometimes, since not every soul has a strong tether to Kenos and sometimes return to the Timestream. They’re fine and may even return to Kenos one day, but for now weren’t able to make the full journey.

As a reminder, your character has a Shard somewhere on their body that encompasses their soul, so keep note of where you're sticking it on their person for reference! Additionally, they have a tattoo of their Aspect somewhere on their body. Please be mindful this Aspect will be assigned to you upon approval and whatever you choose for the TDM may be temporary (for new characters)!

For the Highstorm and Springstar prompts, both cities will be fully open and accessible to all characters once they are saved from their rather harrowing ordeal at the Tree of Life. For prompt ideas and any general information about the cities and what you can find there, please see the Navigation page and check out the locations!

FOR NEW PLAYERS:

New players are welcome to join our Discord Server if you haven't already!

When they emerge from their cocoon/the ground, characters may be wearing their normal clothes, or they might be nude. Up to you!

At some point in the days after leaving the Tree of Life, new Shard-Bearers will have a dream, even if they're usually not capable of sleeping. All new players should read this post, since this details how they'll learn about both factions and their goals and should help them make a decision in which Faction they'd be drawn to.

New characters will not have access to any canon abilities on the TDM.

Your character will be offered temporary housing either at the Heliopolis district or Yima's manor for the first few weeks after their arrival. They will also be given a stipend for basic supplies like clothing and personal effects, and food is served in the cantina (Heliopolis) and at regular meal times in the Dining Room (Yima's manor). Once they Harmonize, they will get personal permanent chambers and a fancy retainer in their Faction's city. Wow! 🌈

FOR OLD PLAYERS:

Characters may be Harmonized to their Faction (if that makes sense for the character, of course!) by the time of this log. This is more for IC reference, and just wait until application acceptance to do the OOC paperwork!

General reminder that your character won't have access to their powers until they have Harmonized.

CODING

Comments

01. IT'S TIME, to be horrendous

[redsoil]

[ Awaiting her among the roots is another, his posture indolent and eerily open among the idle curve of the tree of life's innards. The spill of roots below him appear, in this place, to strain for his ankles - hands, yearning to touch him. In this place, even the shape of the thing that haunts him attempts to wield soured memory, to hook its way in among his heart and fill him with dread. It takes the sight of her, a woman with the body of a horse, to draw his attention away from the roots nipping at his heels, reddened by the drip, drip, spill of a palm bitten down into ragged meat by sharp teeth.

He'd been bleeding for a bit, by now, hand hovering over the dirt as though to supplicate the dryad's demands alone.

She is -- well, he cannot discern what to make of her. A woman in one way, a beast of burden in another. He knew camel, he knew sand-born beasts of crocodilian flesh and stout wings, and he knew horses. She is two things that are not unfamiliar to him, though the compound shape of her reminds him of things the gods had designed - amalgamations none could discern the reason for, save for their creator. In his silence, he is nakedly looking upon her; the dark of her eye, the curve of her waist as it flows into her equine half. At one point, he goes so far as to unabashedly tilt his head as though to get a glimpse of her underbelly - impossible from the elevated place he is seated.

The meat of his palm curls upwards, capturing the sluggish bleed of his hand in the cup of his palm. No more for the tree. Not that it was working. The scarlet of his own eyes are bright, even in the dim, claustrophobic prison of root and bark; his pupils thinned into sleek, dark lines. He is red, and gold and black, and he stretches himself out indolent as a ruler upon a dais; humorlessly, to her alone, he states: ] I've been waiting. It's about time.

[warmare]

[The woman among the roots had demanded a sacrifice in exchange for the antidote to the poison creeping through their veins… and Hayame had given her one. The dryad asked for a life, and she had offered up a life.

Not hers. (And not with any consent from the other party- What entity required their sacrifice willing?)

But rather than freedom or relief from the poison she could feel gradually weakening her powerful body and creeping into her mind… she had been enfolded through the tree into another, different cage. She arrives like a tempest, hooves lashing out until she is free of the roots binding, moving her… and she arrives in front of a man, panting heavily, both sets of lungs heaving for breath, both hearts thundering in her ears. In the violence of whatever preceded her arrival and the violence of her resistance to the roots, the thin cloth tied over the left side of her face has gone askew, almost revealing the empty socket where a left eye had once been, leaving only raw (but not so raw that it could have occurred today) flesh and serum crusting on the fabric. Her long, ink black hair falls about her wild and chaotic, and the half-snarl on her face all too ready to become more than half reveals teeth far too sharp to match either human or equine parts.

More importantly, those teeth are stained crimson with blood just as bright as her new cagemate’s eyes. Not just her teeth. Blood stains her lips, drips down her chin and down her throat to splatter over her breasts and vanish between them. There were no weapons in her hand-

But she was a weapon. She did not need steel.

Disoriented by her forced relocation, her remaining eye rolls wildly until she establishes her location (another root cage), her new companion (a stranger, looking unarmed and eerily composed), but finally… What’s left of her gaze locks on him, her voice spilling rabid from her throat. He’s been waiting?]

You want to be my second offering so badly- ?

[Would it work if she made it two? Three? Four? Why hadn’t it worked- ? The answer is there, in the back of her mind, but she hasn’t stopped moving since she was first imprisoned… and the realization needs a moment to catch up.]

[redsoil]

[ This place is revolting. The vines that had coiled around him and forced him deeper ( downward, deeper still ) had been shredded inch by inch, with tooth and nail as he'd fought feverishly against what he perceived was it. The great descent, into Osiris's clutches once and for all, into failure, into -- who knew what. He'd lashed and clawed and scraped his way free from the vines, found his way up into the high point above where they refused to go and there. There, he waited. The face of the dryad nearby placid, her judgment withheld though she asked for such sacrifices. To her?

Don't make him laugh! No god would sacrifice to a lesser entity, let along some nature spirit with an ego. There would be no humbling of anyone, not here. Not him, and not this horse-woman with her eyes drawn into feral pinpricks, blood streaming over her mouth and breasts as though she'd just taken a bite out of something. Someone, maybe. It's a look that incites him, forcing him up to his feet, leveraging his lean form over her as she threatens his life. ]

Try it.

[ There is something feverishly earnest in those words, a calling between them both for hostility, for slaughter, for battle until one of them would lay heaving and dying upon the ground. At his apex, it would be her. Effortless, swift. He'd cleave her in two and stand over her to watch her die. Does she count as human? Would retribution fall upon him, if he was to sink his hands between her ribs and go for her heart? ]

I was waiting, [ he says it again, and under his calm is that thread of impatient; how dare this woman keep him waiting, how dare she arrive sleek with blood and as tinged with madness as him! ] I would like to leave this place. She would not accept the blood of a god, this unappreciative creature.

[ To Hayame, he holds up his hands; his arms, bitten and scored by his own teeth, his own nails. He's been bleeding himself against the roots, against the floor of the root cage. ]

She said I needed another. I believe that means, that I needed you.

[warmare]

[She almost does just try it. Adrenaline still pounding from her brief but desperate fight for survival in a different cage of roots, she takes every movement as a potential threat and every word as an insult. He dares her, as if he truly would love nothing more than for her to lunge and wrap her hands around his throat, for her hooves to strike and crack his bones, for her teeth to sink in and add more blood to the foul taste in her mouth. No, even worse-

He sounds like he thinks she won’t be able to. But that demon had thought the same, surely, after how easily he had plucked her left eye from her skull in Achamoth, and she had shown him. His corpse had been taken by the roots.

But so had she.]

The blood of a god? Do not make me laugh.

[There is no disguising the sneer and the doubt. A god? Hayame had never not believed in such things, per se, but she held only contempt for gods, because if they did exist… then they were callous, selfish beings who let the desperate prayers and pained screams of an entire race go unheard.

He might be tall for a human, and Hayame only middling height for a jinba woman, but she still stands over seven feet tall, over a half ton of solid muscle with only few soft, womanly curves viciously bound down and made small. She isn’t intimidated by his rise.

But what he says stays her hand, if only for a moment. Honestly, she wouldn’t have resorted to what she had with anyone else, it had been a chance for revenge and the break of something in her mind to blame for the vicious moves she had employed, and for this man, however insulting or proud… She does not have the same vitriol.]

If that bitch won’t take your blood, or a demon’s life, then what- ?

[But she does have a bloody spit of a question, her entire body still coiled tight and ready to spring if need be.]

[redsoil]

[ Perhaps it is natural, that he echoes her in so many ways. Represents her, with blood on her mouth and breasts, in the way that his own red hair catches between the corner of his lips and pours over his chest -- it is only natural, for a warrior and the god of war to be such inelegant mirrors of one another. Even as he pushes his hand through the sleek fall of his own hair, dragging strands away from his own teeth, his own sneer at her lack of faith, he comes down to her.

Without any power to him, this strange woman could kill him as easily as he knows any horse he's ever ridden could kill a human. He's fragile, in this place, and it sickens him to his core to take notice of his own vulnerabilities. Perhaps it is why he descends to meet her, without flinching or fear, as though he were truly the god he once was, unstoppable and ready to face her and conquer. It is without violence that he does approach her, his expression sharp and studious as his eyes rake over her body.

Her heaving chest, the pounding of her blood in her throat and in the dun-colored flank of her lower body. ]

That she would accept naught that I gave her alone, means to me that the sacrifice cannot be made by my hand upon my own body. Perhaps if you bled me, or I bled you, the meaning would change.

[ Even as he speaks, he slides his wet fingers across his chin, cradling it -- curious and thoughtful. Eventually, he stands but an arm's reach away from her, his feet carrying him in small, steady increments towards her. Fearless, or foolish? When he looks, it is up towards her face. ]

It must be covenant, I suppose. The humans who tithed blood to us did so of their flock, the meat and life of animals they needed to survive.

[ He's not an idiot, after all.

But, with a growing, savage little smile, he laughs: ]

You must be quite the warrior, to slay a demon.

[warmare]

[She might have mistaken him for a god if he appeared before her in the world that was rightfully hers. That flaming red hair and skin, it did not belong to the humans that she knew— the only race she’d ever known. Even hearing rumor of humans from over the seas, those were described as hairy barbarians, with hair like gold and skin like milk…

As he approaches, fearless, either brave or stupid, her gaze accidentally mirrors him again, moving over his own form, sizing him up for potential threat and how close she should let him come before she plants a kick on him. She is still— or rather, her hooves are planted firmly in the root floor. Everything else about her is ready at a single twitch to explode into a hurricane of movement, from the angry (confused) whip of her long black tail behind her to the way her powerful, muscular flanks and lower chest heave for air after the confusing tumble from one trial to the next.

A sacrifice rejected if given of one’s own body, he has learned. A sacrifice rejected if taken, as she had learned. So, that means…

In the moment and now very little space between them, their breath mingles. A bit of steam rises from the blood dripping down her throat and breasts, still cooling from the hot gush from a demon’s throat. Her two hearts pound, too loud in her ears. She considers.

But then… he calls her a warrior. He praises her, this stranger with the good eyes. And she is so starved for it, so desperate that-]

I am.

[So she lies and yet doesn’t, with the full confidence of a woman who has been saying this her entire life… and mostly disbelieved on account of her sex. She still believed it, honestly, and that’s what made her failures so frustrating. She was strong. She was skilled. She was a half ton of jinba flesh trained from birth to hunt and kill whether that meant with the civilized weapons of humanity or the bare teeth and force of a beast.

But if they must make a covenant-]

So where would you have me bleed you, god?

[She thinks she will have to bite… Until the dryad hears them… and steel (a pair of daggers) clatters to the ground from the squirm of roots.]

[redsoil]

[ There is already a ragged tear in the meat of his hand, sluggishly bleeding still down the length of his fingers. The dryad had not wanted a self-sacrifice. This woman had uncovered that indiscriminate slaughter was not the way to go either; which meant that the dryad truly did want covenant. An agreement forged between at least two souls. He had attempted blood. She had attempted flesh. Neither was accepted on its own, so rather than attempt either on their own again -- both, agreed upon, might be necessary.

It is what he would demand, as a god. Willing sacrifices of blood and flesh, prized cattle and domestic animals, prisoners of war -- they are all things that lead him onward towards his conclusion. That the creature of the tree spits out blades upon their agreement on the matter does make his lip curl.

The disgusting shape of her face, her roots, they're all-too similar to another he knows. Knew. Never knew, maybe. The roots of Life, the prospering greenery that once flowed across Egypt had been grown and encouraged by his brother. He wants to be gone of them, and fast; to that end, he looks to her. Looks to his own body. ]

Nothing vital to combat or agility. Full limbs are out. Fingers are out. Toes are out. Eyes are out. Innards are out. Arguably I would wish us to be as hale as possible, while still meeting the criteria -- flesh and blood in covenant.

[ It rules out hair, as well. Hair won't bleed. ]

What about an ear? Your hair and mine are long enough to cover a - blemish.

[ He doesn't know what will happen, if his divine form is marred visibly. If it's really even capable of it. Might as well see, might as well work with the most simple of things, if a full life isn't required, and blood isn't enough. ]

[warmare]

[If Hayame had not wanted to be gone from that place as badly as she did, perhaps they might have come to a more moderate conclusion, or even considered other options. But between the two of them, both bloodied, both on the heels of failure, both feeling claustrophobic and trapped in this narrow cage of roots...

There is only action, in the desperate hope that it will solve this now.

Nothing vital to combat or agility, he says, and Hayame nods, finally moving to do something other than attack or remain on high alert in order to wipe blood from her mouth with the back of her arm. Full limbs are out, fingers are out, and she nods. Of course. She is an archer, she cannot suffer injury there. Toes are out. She doesn't even have them. Eyes are out. She only has one left, the other a hole beneath the serum and blood stained cloth near falling off the left side of her face. Innards are out...

But an ear?]

I will die before I reach the auction block.

[Now, now that she truly understands that what she was had been... no better than the Armless jinba used as mounts, broodmares, and fodder she'd once looked down upon... She had volunteered herself to die in her own world rather than return to the life of a breeding stable mare set to be sold to the highest bidder.]

I know no lover.

[She'd thought, once... If she just could open her mouth and say something, one single thing, that she could have. That she should have... But she hadn't. And now, if any chance for love had been there... it would die with them, unrequited, when she returned, or she would die untouched in worlds foreign and distant where she was the only jinba left alive. So...

So- She reaches down and grabs one of the daggers, brandishing it at him not to attack... but to invite him closer into it's reach, her empty hand held out bloody with fingers curled, ready for his cheek.]

A blemish on my beauty is nothing.

[She wore her hair back in a high tail, when it wasn't fallen wild and chaotic in fetlock-length strands loosed by a frenetic battle for her life against a demon. It would be visible to anyone. ... It's just the outer shell of an ear. As long as she can still hear...]

But I still expect you to cut clean... and I will do the same.