![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- !event,
- baroque: koriel xii (dextera),
- bastard!!: dark schneider,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- ennead: set,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fire emblem: byleth eisner,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: zhongli,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- jinba: hayame,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- made in abyss: bondrewd,
- magnus archives (the): the archivist,
- marvel: gamora,
- oc: liem talbott,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- star wars: jyn erso,
- trigun maximum: vash the stampede
The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle
RUNNING OUT THE CLOCK
The situation is bleak.
The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.
And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.
“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”
Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.
And then, there is nothing.
The Blight - and the massive labyrinth of roots tearing both cities asunder, spreading deadly flowers wherever they penetrate - have progressed to a point beyond catastrophe. People are dying in rapid numbers. Bearers are having difficulty keeping up with the spread of infection - even among one another. The collapse of Kenos seems inevitable; a cure will not come in time. You can do nothing but watch as each new day brings further disaster, ticking down the seconds until it all falls apart.
And then, you feel something seize your Shard. As if physical fingers have wrapped around it, as if it is being clutched through you by invisible hands, you feel invaded. You feel wronged. But before you can panic, a voice enters your mind through Communion.
“Excuse the dramatics, but there isn’t much time for pleasantries. The Trees are about to hit the point of no return. But there's still work to be done. The Tree of Life will take you where you can find it: the Oracle and the creature causing all this mess. Fix this when you find them. However you'd like.”
Have you heard Aetos’ voice before? Perhaps it is the first time; perhaps it is familiar to you. Either way, the last thing you will remember is a confusing jumble: a spell of immense and incredible power, one utilizing the Tree’s strength to shelter you. The sensation of every cell in your body coming alive, yet seeming to break apart and render you into billions and billions of tiny pieces, all hovering in different times and places across all the different iterations, timelines, and realities in which you have ever existed. A voice that speaks not through words asking your forgiveness, unspeakably sad.
And then, there is nothing.
AWAKENING
Your eyes open, gritty with the feeling of a long, deep slumber.
Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.
It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.
You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?
The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?
Perhaps it takes a moment to shake off the heavy veil of exhaustion, to recollect what you were doing before you fell into this state of hibernation - but as soon as you do, you feel an immediate sense of foreboding around you. It is thick in the air, oppressive and pervasive, and you aren’t left long to wonder at its source. You lay beneath the branches of the Tree of Life, but as your bleary eyes focus… you see it. The Tree is all but bereft of life. Its bark has withered down to gnarled wood, the soft lichen dried up, and the grass that should be alive beneath you is long dead and gone. There is not so much as a single leaf on its decaying branches.
It has been this way for a long, long time... you realize this with a feeling of intense dread as you see it - the beautiful expanse of stars, of the cosmos, of universes scattered like starlight above the tree's boughs, gone. In its place hangs a sickly, ominously low-hanging, and dying sun ready to sing the end of everything.
You can't help but wonder how long Kenos has been in this state, but a sense of gratitude fills you as you realize that the Tree expended the last of its energies to protect you, the Bearers, during your state of rest. Had Aetos worked with the tree to see you sent here?
The next question comes quickly: how much time do you have left…? And can you find the Oracle before that time expires?
ABANDON HOPE (DAYS 1 & 2)
The cornerstones are still active and will take you to whichever city you wish to see.
Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.
Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.
The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.
And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…
Highstorm and Springstar sit like empty monuments to the cities that were once filled with life - yet the first thing you will notice is they are strangely absent the signs of the Tree’s overgrown roots, the Blight, the catastrophic damage that you can recall all too easily. Instead, each city sits as those they were summarily abandoned overnight, leaving nothing but their shells behind. There is a stillness in the air that is unnatural and unsettling. Despite the lack of any sign of the citizens of either city, you cannot help but feel… watched.
Something terrible happened here. Best you find the Oracle before something terrible finds you, instead.
The burning of a dying sun beats down on you wherever you go, unbearable heat sending waves off the aged cobblestone streets. Perhaps it is your instinct to seek refuge in the shade - but linger too long about the shadows and that feeling of eyes on your back, of being unable to breathe, of your world closing in around you will grow untenable and drive you back into the light. If you hope to explore the ghostly shell of your city in search of the Oracle - or to sate your curiosity, some problem-solving might be in order.
And while you acclimate yourself to your circumstances, you cannot help but note you feel wrong inside, somehow…
EXPLORATION
- If your characters choose to explore previously unreachable areas, please use THIS TOPLEVEL to report when they get there in the thread! We will get back to you with what is discoverable in that location.
- The following areas are off limits for exploration: below Yima’s Manor; below the Church of Heliopolis; Alenroux; Kowloon.
- The Great Trees of both Highstorm and Springstar are in a similar state to the Tree of Life and will not respond to Communion.
- Generally speaking, items will be of poor quality. Most will look as though they’ve aged thousands of years. Others will be in half-decent shape, but sparingly so. Oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like the whole city has aged at the same rate, so especially diligent rummagers can find worthwhile supplies. Please consider this should be rare and don’t go overboard!
NOTES
Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!- Characters will have a diluted connection to the Zenith or Meridian.
- There will be periods powers are weakened or non-functional during days 1-2 (up to player discretion).
- The sunlight results in scorching; the shadows cause claustrophobia and fear while outdoors.
THE RITUAL (DAYS 2+)
The place you started your journey to Kenos is also where it seems it will end. As soon as the first Bearer makes contact with the Iconoclast effigy, you are collectively drawn to the roots beneath the Tree - like a pang sent through your Shard. Your objective has been found. The Oracle awaits.
Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.
Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.
To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.
An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.
Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…
Trusting Aetos seems like a fool's errand, but you must put your hope in the Tree. What choice do you have left? It's time to find what lies at the end of this.
Bearers descend, your steps echoing in the dark, cavernous space. Once brimming with life and vitality, the roots are now dried and brittle like the bones of some ancient leviathan that died long ago. As you make their way deeper into the earth, the deadened roots twist, leading you to a vast chamber deep within it; the air here is thick with the smell of decay, and the faint glow of luminescent fungi and mosses barely illuminates the space.
To your left, the Bearers will notice what has drawn them here - and the object of their search.
An effigy sits on the ground between two darkened tunnels. The effigy is made of gnarled, dead branches woven together in a humanoid shape; its hollow, empty eyes are sightless, yet you cannot help but feel it is watching your every move. Branded on its forehead is the Iconoclast symbol carved into the rough wood.
Once all Bearers are present, the Ritual will begin. Your means of exit have been sealed off, and you are trapped, slowly deteriorating together…
NOTES
- Bearers will have access to the Ritual Chamber which is a very wide, open space with the effigy situated against the far wall from the entrance. Several smaller tunnels off-shoot from the Ritual Chamber. They all run to dead ends; some are very small or narrow. This may afford you meager privacy away from the group.
- Once a Bearer steps into the Chamber, they can no longer head back out the way they came. They’ll find themselves automatically walking back into the Chamber as if of their own volition.
- For brevity’s sake we won’t list them out again here, but the complete description of effects Bearers will experience days 2+ is available in the OOC Summary.
- The effigy is impervious to damage.
- It Is Watching You.
- In a dead-end root tunnel attached to the Iconoclast’s Chamber is the Blighted statue of an Otter that may be familiar to some… Please see THIS TOPLEVEL for more information!
THE PURGE (DAYS 5+)
The sap has festered in your veins for what feels like days. It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed; this place has no sunlight. The effigy watches as you remain trapped, huddled together around it, unable to leave as you find yourself sick with the affliction of the Meridian, Zenith - or both.
And then… something finally gives.
Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.
When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.
Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.
And then… something finally gives.
Though it does not move and speaks no words, you feel the effigy offering you guidance. Knowledge. Much like the Tree speaks to you in impressions and feelings, you are conveyed wisdom you did not have before: a way to take what you want and rid yourself of what you do not. A way to make your convictions known to all who would hear them. A way to be known. To write your path in blood, be it yours… or theirs.
When all is said and done, only one force - Zenith or Meridian - will gain its favor.
Show it who you are. Show it what resolve looks like to you - and what you are willing to do to attain it.
NOTES
Here are some prompt reminders - see the full thing at the OOC Summary!- You can Purge your alignment through various methods: Trading, Corrupting, or using the Effigy itself.
- All characters will understand the end goal is for everyone to Harmonize; the alignment with the higher rate of Harmonized Bearers alive when time’s up wins the Oracle’s favor.
NOTES
- A reminder that the Harmonization tally will take place on Friday, the 19th and be open through Monday, the 29th. The results will be released on Wednesday, the 31st OOCly.
- Don’t forget to submit any deaths to the Death Tracker, with a gentle reminder characters will remain dead until the event conclusion!
- Reminder to fill out the SETTING POLL ASAP if you haven't already!
- Have some MUSIC if you'd like. LYRICS here!
- HAVE FUN!!
cw: forced kiss, blood... these two being themselves...
in his anguish, he does not mind set's approach. he is heard, but he is not addressed. this is a mistake.
hair tears from his scalp in strands, caught between the fingers of an unyielding fist that forces him to cry out in pain and in rage. it is swallowed by set's mouth, insistent on his own, and in two ways voryn retaliates against the taste of bittersweet sap on his ally's teeth: he pulls red hair in a strong mimicry of set's hold over him, then penetrates through the protective dam to enter the god's mind. in an instant, communion is established—compelled—and in comes the flood.
his thoughts are a great, churning sea. as they wash over them, savant connection unable to be severed, one incessant question begins to itch, then chafe, and finally become raw. what are you doing? what are you doing? whatareyoudoing? whatareyoudoing whatareyoudoingwhatareyoudoing
light is introduced into his veins, acting like fire against the zenith sap that makes his muscles tense all at once. this only reminds him of home, which inspires him to fight harder against set, back arching to leverage a powerful body off with his own. there is no pause in their fight that instinct doesn't fill, first a warrior and second a diplomat. using the momentum afforded to him by the raising of his hips to follow through with his knees, he rides set down into the dirt to loom over him.
a hand is raised, and its palm is held flat. with a hard smack, it comes down on set's cheek.)
Are you mad? (voryn spits to the side, saliva pink.) What is this? You would give your own light to me? Answer me!
cw messy bitches
[ Voryn Dagoth is to lovely and proud to be reduced to shameful pawing at the dirt, a worm of a man when he ought to be one of the shining beacons of Meridian's potent, peerless authority. Voryn Dagoth hails from a land that burns, a place that is aflame, where he speaks to his ancestors and carries on their memories. Zenith would have him shed that, and reduce him to naught but a sham of a creature, pathetic and wrong. If anyone cannot be allowed to be coerced to a side that will inevitably fail, it is Voryn.
The fullness of Set's mouth is slick and red, his blood is sap and his Shard echoes with Zenith energies — stronger now, than before, as he pushes upon Voryn's soul and works within their intense, undeniable connection to force the trade. He expects violence in return from him, because they are beings of dark pleasures and ascended mind, whom will not allow petty grievances to part them from their shared goal. Except, as he bleeds light into Voryn — his heart falters, and he knows it will be all right. He can accept Zenith, and Voryn will carry on in his stead. He has given the knowledge of his son to this man for a reason, and that reason is his unfailing heart.
His head snaps to the side, when Voryn's palm cracks across it, and through the fall of his hair he peers up at the warrior-diplomat, his strong body a weight upon him that he needs to remove. Before Voryn gets it in his head to push back with anything but words alone. Set heaves, digging his heels into the earth to leverage his hips and force Voryn's weight up. Even diminished, he is not a weak man, nor an unskilled one; he rolls them, driving his forehead to Voryn's chin to clobber him senseless and pin him instead.
Again, he leans in to drag his mouth across the other man's. More light. More Meridian, to preserve Voryn Dagoth. ]
no subject
fingers wrench at the sash of his robe, pulling it open until it becomes a half-lain rug beneath them. the shift beneath it is thinner, lighter, and affords him better movement.)
This sap is yours—(he is interrupted by set's mouth. the kiss is romanceless, a means to an end. voryn can feel the golden sap thrust into his veins with every second they are adhered to one another while the zenite taint within him scratches to the surface. it may as well bubble out of him like water from an artesian well for how easy it is to draw out of him. its foul ambitions and fouler reticence leaves him and voryn gasps noisily against set's cheek.)
I do not need it! I am as firm in my convictions as ever! Do you intend to betray Meridian? Do you intend to betray me?
(their hips come together, dragging. while it would be impossible to find it mentally pleasurable, his body finds the friction of their wrestling to be just what it requires. voryn pants with effort. he even grasps hair in fistfuls to pull on and to force set's neck to crane, biting into set's lower lip before closing his teeth around a small section of his pale throat.)
shields the eyes of the oracle
[ Honestly, he does not expect Voryn to start wrenching at his own clothes, but Set reviews the task for what it truly is: Voryn, seeking better leverage and fluid movement, by shoving aside pretty fabric for mobility. It is one of the reasons Set wears so little, beyond simply culture. One cannot find easy purchase upon bare skin, and the majority of his body and accoutrements upon it, normally, will give way to fluid sand. He is a brute, but his agility and evasiveness are fearsome as well. Not here, though. His own hair is a hindrance, his body tires and weakens.
He bleeds and yelps, hostile and fury-driven, when he is savaged by the other. One of his legs ends up tangled in the robe as Voryn discards it, and he rams ( petulantly ) his knee into the man's solar plexus the moment he decides to come down upon him and fight back. How dare he! ]
Even if this is the end of the world, you ought to be standing tall!
[ ow
He yelps again. ( And Voryn ought to know, that Set is not at all silent partner in anything that is done. Stoicism? Only when he truly must, and not in the heat of battle, when he is all animal call and battle cry and war song. The hot call of rebellion, seeking the ears of others who would take heart in his red-tinged promises. ) He is bitten, and he drives his knee against into Voryn's belly with a frustrated noise. ]
— I am only trying to help! You insane bastard, calm down and look at me!
no subject
a knee interrupts his fury. it lands where his ribs curve to meet the bundle of nerves that force him to double over, hacking a terrible cough that only worsens with the second hit.
fearing that their disillusionment with each other will cause them to battle until one of them lies dead, there is a flash of fist aimed at set's cheek. at this distance, it connects easily with an audible crack. he shouts even as he soothes it with a touch, palms brushing past set's ears to raise his head from the dirt to cradle.) I was not digging idly in the dirt, you savage wretch, it was the beginning of a ritual for the appeasement of the Oracle effigy! I have never bowed my head to Zenith; I would never bend to the pull of the sap!
(not now. there is no hope for that anymore, no seductive appel du vide that would see him destroying his home for a new life. for nerevar spoke to him. he spoke to him, told him to trust in cyrus. this path will lead them to nirn, and he will do for his lord what the nine divines and the seventeen daedric princes could not—restore their home.
resdayn! resdayn!
bells ring in set's head as their unignorable connection is prized open and communion is slipped into with the grasping fingers of his mind's influence. they are at once adrift alone in an endless sea, and above and below the water's calm surface is house dagoth's poison song, solemn and hopeful with tolls and chimes both low and high. wind is mistaken for wind, but when voryn closes his eyes and focuses, they strengthen into whispers.)
Listen, loyal Set... listen and be still beneath me. Can you hear them? (his back bends, sinking lower so that their faces are close and they may share in a secret. black hair encloses them together in a small private space, breaths mingling and homogenizing.) Listen to the voices of the Sixth House and the tribe unmourned and their prayers—to me. They and my Lord need me, and I shall aid them.