The Seeds of Unrest: the Iconoclast Oracle

[beleos]

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.

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?

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…

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…

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.

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!!

CODING

Comments

[baltimores]

[ He blinks, slow and heavy, at that soft feeling he's picking up from her. It feels nice when it brushes up against the foreign hells he's being assaulted with, can't escape because they're coming from within him — a soothing balm and merely a temporary one at that, since he can still feel Meridian's assault on him as it worms its way through every fibre of his being.

He forces his eyes back open. Sits up straighter, using the cavern wall for support. Amos' eyes are dull before she regains his focus, shifting from blank to receptive to confused by the time she's done. ]

But we are alone.

[ His brow lightly furrows as he says it, at the same time it feels like his heart is being squeezed, the yearning for his people back home intense enough for a moment that he stops breathing. And then there's a light gasp as he gets his air back, his chest rising with the sharp inhale. ]

I know we aren't... I know we're all stuck down here together. I know we're all feeling each other's shit. But we're alone. That's just how it is. I don't...

[ He has to stop as another wave of longing passes over him, his body shuddering with it. One of his hands falls to the ground as he scrabbles to find purchase in it, like that'll stabilize him again.

He looks back up to her, lost and distressed — but from what, he couldn't say. ]

I don't know what I'm feeling.

[ But she seems in far better spirits, so maybe she knows how to fight it? It's a spark of hope that brightens his eyes for a moment, as he looks to Quetzalcoatl for an answer. ]

[muchalucha]

[ As Quetzalcoatl listens to Amos work through the emotions that surge through him, she both listens quietly and opens herself up to them. There are little barriers that you can make in Communion to keep out the worst of the cacophony, but in this case, she allows it. After all, she knows too that there’s part of her that just doesn’t understand the emotions that most of her fellow Shard-Bearers are going through, or at least not in the same way. She’s something else and has always been something else… But more than many immortal beings, she wants to deep understand and empathize.

So, she feels that longing. She smiles at it, though it’s sad because that’s the hardest part of Meridian, she thinks. You can have the hope that you’ll be able to return, and you can work incredibly hard to see it done. But it still won’t do anything for that ache itself. ]

Mm, even if you make friends here in Kenos, it can still be lonely, I think. The people I’ve met here, they’ve been very kind, except one person. [ SILCO ] But… I think it can still be different too. A little lonely, even with that.

[ She nods as she thinks about her family, complicated and messy as they are. ]

You miss people you care about. Right?

[ It’s a question more than a statement, because they’re still acquaintances at best. Two people on different sides of this conflict, and even with warm optimism and love of people, it still does feel like a guess, a little bit. Though, to be fair, that uncertainty is more Silco’s fault than anything. ]

[baltimores]

[ He's silent, thinking over her question, because that... might be it. An explanation for his misery, a means to understand something incomprehensible — by putting it in plain language. Amos doesn't notice the openness she offers him, the way she allows them to be intimately connected, because trying to parse through other people's emotions on top of things he's never felt before or understood is too big an ask.

His hand digs further into the ground, clenching the dirt within its grasp; a subconscious movement as he tries to work through this. Physically doing something to get his mind going again, maybe, even as he continues to be assaulted by this... ]

I've never felt that before. [ Not a yes; also not a no, though she might be able to pick up that he's leaning towards yes. Or at least a solid maybe. But... ] I had people back where I was from, and I wanted to be with them then, but that was then. They're dead now. Been dead for over a year, far as I know.

[ Because it's been over a year since his world ended, since he started world hopping. He never questioned it that the universe he came from was dead. Things die, and you move on, and that's it.

And now, for the first time in his life he's questioning it, and he doesn't like it. Something uncomfortable twists within him, a lurch in his conviction. Amos frowns at the sensation, searching Quetzalcoatl's eyes in hopes she can tell him the answer. ]

Why would I miss them? They're gone. There isn't anything left to miss.

[muchalucha]

[ Quetzalcoatl watches as he works through this in a physical way, and her emotions shift openly with it. She sees him clutch at the dirt below, and she feels the urge to reach out and take that hand herself. He gives his answer, and she feels a gentle sympathy for it. Maybe that’s what it took to move on from the story that Zenith told. She couldn’t judge that in the slightest.

Still, though. She remembers the words of the other Meri, how they had warned about Amos, how he felt about things. About Zenith, about the Meri. Her own manicured fingers tap against the ground uncertainly, but…

She leans forward and reaches out. She places her hand over the one that Amos has been digging into the ground. It’s not quite gripping it fully, but it’s contact that just gently says that he’s not alone. ]

That’s not true, is it? They’re people that you cared for, so you have your memories. You’ll always have those, but you’re probably still longing for more. At least so long as you have Meridian with you, I’d guess.

[baltimores]

[ There's a shock to his system as she reaches out to place her hand over his. A spark like getting mildly zapped by a household appliance with nothing worse for the wear; nothing bad, just a brief surprise. Amos' hand stills under hers as he breaks her gaze, turns to look at them down by his side instead. Continues to stare at their hands as Quetzalcoatl speaks, expression shifting from befuddled to confounded to irritated once it clicks. ]

It's that shit. [ His eyes narrow as his hand under hers balls up into a fist. Though his words aren't meant for her — harsh tones not directed towards her, not when she's been nothing but kind, helpful — there's an ever-increasing edge to them all the same. ] That fucking...

[ Meridian, on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't even want to say the word out loud right now. It continues to churn in him, a foreign agent that much more obviously so now that he can clearly pinpoint it, and now alongside that painful longing that isn't even real comes a rising anger. ]

I don't need more. [ His voice is a low mutter, dangerous — or would be dangerous, if there was something physical he could fight. As it stands, the only obvious way out would be for him to smash his own shard, which. He's not doing that. He's not being hasty when there has to be something he can do to rid himself of this alien force. ] I don't want more. You can't live life like that. It's too—

[ Painful. It's too painful, because then he might start thinking of everything and everyone he's lost, dating right back to childhood, to when he first became aware that people died and they never came back no matter how much you might want them to. Protect who you still have, but when they're gone, move on.

His eyes squeeze shut as another wave racks him; what if they come back? What if he can find a way to bring them back? His crew. Peaches. Erich. Maybe even Lyd—

Lydia, who died long before the universe ended, and no, there's no bringing her back.

He isn't aware of the way his lips have curled up, teeth bared; how rigid his body has become, muscles tensed for a fight that doesn't exist. He is, vaguely, aware of the hand over his, the warmth and sympathy that had been dancing around the edges of his psyche, the distinct knowledge that he is not alone.

Quetzalcoatl is just the messenger. She hasn't done anything to him. She doesn't deserve— ]

You should go.

[ His voice is still harsh, but there's an accompaniment of shame this time. He doesn't want to do anything to her, but the second he opens his eyes he's pretty sure he'll do something stupid, so better to tell her now. ]

[muchalucha]

[ Quetzalcoatl sits patiently with him as he works through it, just a calm, easy, and warm presence next to him. Even with the anger that bubbles up, that’s fine to her. Part of it is a bit of the bravado of being an immortal hero (normally), where she’s perfectly sure that whatever he’s feeling, she could take, but… Much more, she feels deep empathy as the waves of realization wash over him.

She understands what Ruby had meant now, though. She can almost feel how deeply he hates Meridian in this moment, but she also can’t really blame him. From what she’s seen in others, the way Meridian expresses itself down here… It’s almost in a cruel way. If she were to use a comparison, it truly is like the sun. It can be warm and life-giving, but it can also scorch the land. The sun, Meridian, hope, it’s something that has to be given in moderation, lest it hurt the one that bears it.

I don’t need more, he says, and Quetzalcoatl gives his hand a reassuring squeeze. ]

It’s hard, yes.

[ She finishes that sentence for him, and she would even without their empathic connection. It may be something she’s distant from by virtue of what she is, but… The grief of loss and the sharp pain that can come with it are things she still knows. Perhaps not as individuals like Amos does, but in massive wholes… She mourns the people lost to the changing of the Suns. Countless lives were simply gone as one changed to another, and they attempted to make the world anew. Some gods didn’t care as much, since it was just the price of continuing on with Creation, but each of her previous peoples were worth mourning.

It carries between them. It’s more abstract and larger, perhaps, but her heart is always open in Communion. So, that shame is received warmly and non-judgmentally. She’s not so naïve as to not understand why he says that, but it does make her want to stay more. She knows she could be wrong, but that kind of warning and shame, it makes her think that maybe Amos is someone that hasn’t had someone willing to stay when he needed it. ]

Maybe. [ She answers first and gently, but she doesn’t pull away. ] You’re being kind, I can tell. So, I’d like to be kind back. If you’ll accept that. And if you can’t, that’s okay too. But when all this is done, can I come find you again, maybe?

[baltimores]

[ It isn't hard. It's never been hard until now, because he's known for nearly his entire life to give up. That there will always be forces greater than him, greater than anyone, that everyone will be subject to, and fighting against them is stupid. Fighting against death and loss is stupid. You take it on the chin and you don't flinch and you move. on.

And now Meridian won't let him, poisoning him with what-ifs and irrational thoughts of bringing the permanently dead back to life, and.

Maybe it is hard. Unlike any hardship he's ever known — worse than any hardship he's ever known? That can't be right — but difficult enough that he desperately misses when he could give up. And amid the longing for his people to come back, for the Roci, for whatever shitty hole in the wall he knew in a previous life where he could enjoy himself — there's a new longing, the longing to go back to the way he was, has been most of his life. A longing to be completely dead inside so he never has to feel this again, to regain the shield he developed to protect himself from his trauma and never let it go. Let him go back. It's easier if he goes back. Let him go back—

His eyes stay tightly squeezed shut, and when Quetzalcoatl speaks again, he realizes there's warmth there. Kind and almost motherly, someone he could curl up against, lay his head to rest...

He can't do this, face contorting in distress before he lets out a shaky exhale. ]

I don't know what you can do. [ He believes her. Believes that she really does want to help him, and he wants to accept it, but this is impossible, his heart squeezed in a vice and breathing shallow. There's nothing she can do; even her warmth and compassion and openness paling in comparison to how desperate his newfound hope is. Even now it gets drowned out, swallowed up in ebbs and flows. ] I don't know what you have that I can accept.

[ Just let him give up again. Just let him feel nothing and move on.

Please. ]

[muchalucha]

Well… I have Zenith, at least. You can trade some of your Meridian to me for that.

[ Trading their energies is both something easy to offer and something she hates, though not for the conventional reasons. Honestly here, when faced with the human element of things, she’s not so concerned with the Oracle. She sees someone hurting and she wants to help. It’s as simple as that, honestly. ]

But even besides that, you can always have my ear and my heart.

[ She can see that this is a wider problem, after all. Meridian and Zenith were fundamentally opposed, but there’s nothing tactical in how she wishes that Zenites could have the love and hope for their homes that she does. A new world was only new. It guaranteed nothing else, and she knew that better than anyone. So, she can’t help but fear that even if Zenites had their wish… They wouldn’t be happy in the world they created. It was a lesson that even gods had to learn. ]

When your heart hurts with the possibility of what could have been, I’ll listen if you want. It’s a painful thing, and I know it well.

[baltimores]

[ His eyes crack back open at the idea that she could give him some Zenith. No, not just that; that she could take Meridian away from him. Help him get rid of this painful longing, help him eliminate something incompatible with the very being he had to become. He lifts his head up properly as she talks, the rest of her words barely registering as a new kind of hope — a more natural kind; a less painful kind, because it's something realistic to hope for, because it's his — rises up in him in tandem. ]

I don't need anyone to listen. Soon as this stuff is out of me, my heart won't hurt like that again.

[ Or at least not in a way that he'll be able to consciously perceive. As far as Amos knows, he really, truly will be fine once he's set back to normal.

He reaches out with his free hand, puts it over hers, and looks into her eyes. ]

Trade me.

[ It's a request — desperate and pleading, but a request all the same. ]

ok but MY heart will hurt??? DID YOU THINK OF THAT AMOS???

[muchalucha]

[ The way that he chooses to phrase it breaks her heart a little, but it only comes out as deep sympathy, an impulse carried through their minds that she wants to reach out to hug him close— But, clearly, she refrains. Gently, she just places her other hand over his to give it a little squeeze as she nods. ]

Okay. I’ll help, sí.

[ She removes her hand again to reach up to her lips, and in the familiar process of removing a Shard, removes the little gem that Amos might have thought was just a piercing. It’s small for a Shard, even though it’s bigger when it’ll fully in her hand. Yet, looking at the brilliant greenstone, it does come with a sense that it’s dense for a Shard. Maybe that’s part of it being so small? Who knows? ]

It might be metiche, so you don’t have to answer… But did your heart really not hurt before?

OF COURSE NOT, he's stupid

[baltimores]

[ In most circumstances, he wouldn't turn down a hug from her. But he also isn't inclined to initiate one; certainly not now, with the way his mind is messed up, the way he's completely unmoored from universal truths he knows. His eyes slip shut for a moment at that squeeze before opening again as she withdraws, at the sound of her affirmation.

Amos' eyes track the way she reaches for her shard — the way its physical properties seem to change — before he slowly reaches down his shirt for his own shard, nestled over the top of his heart. The faint blue glow the not-fireflies flitting about within provides a small additional source of light, but other than that, there's very little unique about it. It's small. It's not particularly dense. It just is, simply held in the palm of his hand.

He lifts his eyes up from it at her question, a tired quality to them. It'd almost be resignation, except maybe in a few moments that'll no longer be an issue. He can get on with his life — a life trapped among a dying tree's roots, but the life he's actually got now all the same. ]

No. [ His voice is dull to match his eyes; not exactly an inspiring answer, and yet one with no bravado behind it. As far as he knows, he really is just telling the truth. ] I wouldn't have made it this far if it did.

[ There are still drops of blood-sap welled up on his knuckles; picking at the skin there is enough to get something going again. And then he's holding both hands out to her — shard in the palm of one hand, blood on the back of the other; both ready for her. ]