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

vultures - c

[passio]

[ against all odds, set is someone he cares for. apart from the politics of meridian and zenith and the end of days that has come upon them, set has provided an odd, cynical joviality that has forced dextera to remain upright with his eyes set ahead.

there’s nothing he can do for set now but sit with him, whatever the outcome is at this point. ]

…

[ regardless of set’s greeting, dextera folds his legs underneath him and sits by the ailing god. this is familiar to him. dextera can meet it, horrible as it is, with a sense of calmness. ]

I just wanted to see you.

[redsoil]

[ Even without a voice, Dextera always finds a way to say so much. He speaks so little, and yet volumes could be written. ]

I am not the best Meridian, but I wish I could have proven someone worthy of holding onto their hopes.

[ For them, he could have been stronger. More powerful, peerless. He does not think he would have been the best, emotionally, or the friendliest, but as a war god he was meant to be inspirational. Meant to be a figurehead upon which others could fasten their faith upon — and he had lost it, when he became a tyrant. An evil god. The bane. ]

I wanted to see you, too.

[passio]

…

[ set reminds him, in this moment, of what he wishes the archangel would be. reflective, regretful—it’s cold to wish someone would feel remorse, perhaps, but dextera can’t help himself when they’re standing on the precipice.

he should be with the archangel now. maybe after he speaks to set. ]

Do you think you’ll get to see him again?

[ dextera thinks they’ve lost, that the zenites will destroy this world and make a new one any day now, so he cuts right to it. ]

[redsoil]

Yes. I will. Because he asked it of me.

[ He knows that Dextera speaks of the child that he revealed to him, when Dextera doubted Set's desire to adhere to Meridian. The second child, ghostly and dark-skinned, who had also clutched at his hip and thigh, as if desperate to hang on as well. Anubis. Horus. ]

Did you falter, Dextera?

[ it rankles at him, drives him to purpose — this whole stupid fight has been a gross one, to him. ]

[passio]

[ dextera thinks set might be insane. his son is his baroque. it’s not unlike the bagged one and boxbearer.

he knows, vaguely, of the concept in his own world of “set,” but his own expertise has always been another religion, and he knows for a fact set didn’t exist in his besides. this man seems just as prone to delusion as any human, so delusion it seems to be.

luckily, dextera has sympathy for that, and with death coming for them all, he doesn't feel the need to kill set himself. ]

I thought I would.

[ he shifts his posture, draws his knees up to his chin instead. ]

But I still want to go home. I want to see my brother. I couldn’t let go of that.

[redsoil]

[ mary that series of words gave me psychic damage and i'm begging for more ]

I can see use in both paths, [ he admits to it, to his ability to see a way forward whether he chooses Meridian or Zenith.

Perhaps that is his weakness, that he will never fall to one side or the other without external pressure to beat him down, to lure him astray. He doubts, far more than he hopes. Hopes do not dwell within him, but Meridian remains the most practical and true path for him to walk, to return to his son and adhere to the promise between them: Atone, return home, start from the beginning. He cannot atone, cannot return the souls he carries with him to the land of their birth and demise — to Duat proper, without there being a world.

He doubts he can Create, as Osiris or Ra has. Fashioning a new world sounds well-within the powers of a god ( and not Zenith, they will fail; they are imperfect, and will corrupt their perfect world long before it ever exists ), but he is a god of chaos, disorder, war. Not a creator, not a beacon of light or life. Yet, Meridian swells within him because it suggests it can give him that — he grows flowers, plants. He speaks to verdant life. He must carry the others with him, for his parameters to swell and accompany all things. ]

I see the reality of Meridian, yet I yearn for my truth in Zenith. I fight a war with myself every day. I am sure you do, too. So. What is your own brother like, to be what calls you home?

[ HIS brother sucks and makes him want to run to zenith to tactically nuke him from existence ]

[passio]

[ it’s not new information, to hear that set could go either way. that’s how he’s always seemed to dextera, and in a previous conversation, he admitted as much outright. the only thing keeping him tethered is his son, but that isn’t a small thing. for set to end up like this now, he must truly be struggling. ]

…I don’t remember him.

[ it must seem foolish, then, for that to be his beacon. he continues at a slow, unhappy pace, smoothing his palm along the dirty ground to work out nervous energy. ]

Yima could have given me his Shard. But I wouldn’t know him. I couldn’t meet him like that.

[ wanting to fix the world was never a lie; he feels the guilt of destroying it every day, the pressure of godhood that caused him to seek set’s advice in the first place. but it’s the hope of meeting his brother in the world they both belong to that motivates him above all else. ]

[redsoil]

What do you imagine he is like, then?

[ With his hair tangled among the roots, he looks akin to a higanbana; a sprawling, red lily that has somehow grown among the roots of the Tree. Flowers are rife upon him, springing from bruises, growing from the ragged remains of his nails — a sea of red irises, that are beautiful and painful to behold. Nothing bright and lively should grow upon a god of the desert, they ought to wither on the vine and crumble into dust, and yet. They persist. They are him, and they are born of Osiris's own cultivation, his carefully laid plans.

Set tugs some of his hair down. Patches of it have been torn in two, locks left shorter than the others and matted with blood. He'd clawed his own hair apart, snapping nails off his own fingers, in combat. Maybe, when they are free of the roots, he will deign to cut the rest — finally. The act makes room for Dextera. The silent permission bestowed upon him to come closer. Even Set craves company, in this horrid place. Especially the company of those who support his goal, even as he wants to shed his skin like a snake and stop fighting so hard. Stop being delusional, stop trying to be something he is not. ]

And why are you so nervous?

[passio]

[ dextera is afraid to come closer, in truth. set seems liable to absorb him into himself as the tree has absorbed him, and dextera isn’t ready for that—he understands now, alice’s trepidation, at wanting to become one but feeling as if it was not yet time.

what he does do is carefully move closer, yes, but not into the space set has made for him. instead, he rests his nervous hands on set’s legs. it’s a point of contact without giving in entirely, bringing them both some small comfort in the end. ]

I don’t know what to do. When I think about him.

[ it’s not untrue; dextera is a tight mess of anxieties, and his brother is the core of it all. ]

I imagine… he’s like me. We’re twins. I know that. So he must be… another me.

[redsoil]

Yearning for someone is its own form of fear. You are scared that you will lose the opportunity to see him again.

[ After all, he yearns for the child he left home. He is coming to control the yearning, to pretend that his son is still the dark-eyed child he has shown to people he tethers himself to — and not the cold-eyed adult who called him evil god instead of father. If he conceptualizes Kenos as another foreign battlefield, he can master his yearning; he will be victorious, and he will go home to his child and wife.

Slowly, he aligns his hand over the spot where Dextera's have come to rest. Presses down upon them, steady as the earth for the moment. The agony clarifies within him, pain turns towards purpose. The mention of 'twin' strikes a chord within him that hums, pained and confused, before it dwindles away into some forgotten, unknowable place. ]

He might be nothing like you, too. Maybe he's shorter. Maybe he smiles more than you. Maybe he's meaner, like the Archangel. [ screw u archie ]

Do not be so scared. We will reunite you two, this is but one battle — win or lose, I will not let you fall into the despair you did before. You need to be ready to meet your brother with confidence, after all.

[passio]

[ there’s a real sense of rejection at set’s almost playful guesses at what dextera’s twin might be. it hints to something deeper within dextera, how desperate he is for that not to be true—set might be able to feel it, connected as he is to the roots, the way dextera’s mind seems to push away those words like they could swarm and smother him if he let them get close.

maybe he’s meaner, like the archangel. ]

…

[ dextera exhales like he’s just fought something. ]

Do you really think we’ll make it out of this? It feels…

[redsoil]

[ Dextera surprises him, more often than he likes to be surprised. He seems so mild, a long-limbed creature more apt to blow away in the wind than manage to push back against anyone, anything. There is a contrast within Dextera — weak-willed, yet strong-willed. Fearful and prone to vulnerability, but unrelentingly territorial. He's felt it, after all. That mental hook-hold, when Dextera had thought he might go...

All the same, Set does not apologize for what he has said. He cannot, for feelings of guilt or regret are not things he is capable of — save for in certain circumstances. ]

Even if we are stuck here, I think I will outlive most of Zenith's Shard-bearers easily. If I must wait until they die of thirst or hunger, and be the last Harmonized bearer in this place in that way, I will do it. As for the rest [ aka the uh, apocalypse ] I am not afraid of it.

[ There is a sense that he is absolutely assured of himself. Though, the accompanying feeling is one of confusion: he does not know how he can be confident, that he can stand against the apocalypse, only that he has? will? ]

[passio]

[ this is something dextera hasn’t tested about himself. set is a god in both body and mind; dextera doesn’t know all that much about either for himself. he has the absolute god’s purification. with her entirety, he would be able to create and preserve—but if he’s missing his other half, maybe he’s missing that power, too. it’s possible he would be one of the many that would waste away and disappear given long enough; but then, he doesn’t even know if he’s aged. ]

It’s not so bad outside.

[ he doesn’t realize that he’s trying to soothe set by saying it. obviously set is confident, but he doesn’t understand why—dextera supplies the reason that it really could be worse. ]

It reminds me of home. I want to go back.

[redsoil]

It reminds me of home, too. [ what ] At least, what I did to it while I ruled.

[ He parts the veil to let Dextera see —

( Egypt is a land of boundless deserts and harsh sunlight, and Set is the god of those endless sands. Under his tenure, the land became more and more barren — as if to reflect the state of his body and heart — crops withered, the sun grew in cruel intensity, the women languished and suffered and were torn to pieces by wicked men who once loved them. It certainly was apocalyptic in length, spanning generations after generations of human life, if not form. ) ]

When I was brought here, they had banished me and were working on restoring what I ruined. There is always a way back. Rebirth and creation is an integral part of the Ennead's duties, after all. Even the worst low will become the greatest high. To think of Zenith as dark and despairing and Meridian as hopeful and blind is patently dangerous. They are necessary to one another, to bring purpose and life to all things.

[ It is ideology that prevents them from uniting, he thinks.

And ideology that threatens Dextera's ability to rejoin his brother. ]

What do you want to do, when you go home?

[passio]

[ dextera listens to set in gentle, somber silence, allowing the image of egypt to lay over him. it’s like home and yet not—there’s something punishing about the brief vision from set, rather than the aftermath of a violent outburst as dextera knows. ]

…

[ he doesn’t care about zenith. whether it’s a necessary force or not, he doesn’t care. he realizes that with clarity when set attempts to bargain for its existence; but then, dextera has never truly cared about things that don’t serve his own ends. he just makes a good showing of pretending he does.

maybe that’s how they’ve ended up here. ]

I want to… [ he starts off with conviction, and then finds himself at a loss. ] I just want to go home. I want to see everything exactly the way it was. The other side… they don’t understand why I don’t want to change anything.

[redsoil]

[ He cannot bring himself to reach over to Dextera, to slide an arm around him or even push some of those dark bangs from his somber eyes. The young man is a selfish creature, so much like Set; he cavorts with the enemy because it gives him what Meridian cannot, he plots for his own empowerment and pretends as though they will not be betrayals — but, if he must be a traitor-god, he will be a true one.

They're both selfish, and their ability to care is so stunted and otherworldly, it is anathema to some. ]

That is enough. [ Of course it is. ] If that is what gives you strength, it does not matter if anyone else can understand it. It is yours, alone.

[passio]

[ it feels good to be understood. always, it seems to be set.

he has others, too. there’s makoto and gen, and there’s the archangel as well—each of them understand some facet of dextera and carry it as a mirror image through which dextera can begin to recognize the person that he is. what he sees of himself in set isn’t flattering, but it is something he feels he can’t change. ]

Is that how it is for you? Wanting something no one else can understand?

[redsoil]

Yes, always.

[ Even if the things Set desires take a form that could be familiar to some, he will never quite act toward them, or toward their pursuit, in a way that does not disoriented and confuse. He casually connects with Zenites, calling them companions, he validates their dream — and in the same breath, he lords over his ability to rip that dream from their hands and dash it to pieces. He will crow and laugh and sneer at those same sentiments he holds precious.

Such is the insane duality of a god, and those opposing things are easy, flawlessly understandable, to him. ]

To be a god, [ for Dextera had told him of his own young status as one, ] is to never really know shame, for one's actions. That, guilt, regret and your capacity for apology are things you will lose in time.

[passio]

[ dextera wonders if these are his true feelings exposed, or some inkling twisted by the current status of the tree. nothing is well among them, after all. ]

The god before me did, too.

[ he doesn’t want to think about his own potential loss. he never wants to let go of those things—or perhaps he does, losing himself to the kind of freedom than only madness can bring. it’s hard to say. it’s impossible to choose. ]

But I… I wish I could have helped her.