NOVEMBER EVENT | THE HARBINGER ORACLE

[beleos]

HEDGING YOUR BETS

Bearers feel it. Similar to when the Scorching Isles was opened, there is the same tug, from somewhere in the distance. Those who are in springstar feel it from closer, like a blossom of warmth in your heart, you feel the Oracle spring to life. Those in Highstorm feel it too, but distant. Far away. You remember Cyrus’s words, that it would come to life in Springstar, and you know, just from the relative distance, from how far away it feels – He was probably right.

So bearers must make their way to the center of Springstar’s residential district. Finding one’s way to Springstar will be difficult, in fact. Preparations have been underway since Cyrus’s announcement, and Springstar leaps into action. The Legionnaires are already marching by the time the first bearers start moving throughout the city. In addition to any of Meridian’s own preparations, the Legionnaires establish choke points and start organizing evacuations. It will be difficult to make your way through Springstar, but the closer bearers make it to the hedge maze, and what seems to be the oracle at the center, the warmer their chests feel. Throughout the city, it feels warm, like small wicks of heat. The closer bearers become, the more it feels like a torrent. It is burning them to their center and igniting them to their cores. Like the fire of drive, is what it feels like. Like the hunger for something more than just food, or anything else, like the anticipation of victory.

The maze itself is where it is the most intense as bearers start to make their way through the hedge maze. Vines and brambles lie within a neat hedge, and it looks like it is safe to jump, or scale, but the moment a bearer tries to jump it, cut through it, or even go beneath it, roots, brambles, and vines lash out to entrap bearers, and start to drag them down and into the hedges. You will have to figure out a way out – lest you be stuck for seemingly the near future.

Of course, when Dimitri’s hand touches the stone statue in the middle, it all goes dark, and wherever you were, whoever you were fighting –

Every bearer collapses at the same time.

YOU'D BETTER BE A-MAZE-ING!

In the dark, there is that fiery impression of the Harbinger. Competition, drive, disdain for even those that best them. It is clear, in the dark, with your eyes closed, that the Harbinger does not see the Bearers as worthy to obtain it. You feel ghostly hands on your mind, into you, as if it is delving for more, trying to pluck and pull out the right memory. It looks for victories, triumphs, defeats, or betrayals. Something that shows the mettle of the bearer, what it is looking for. When it finds what it is looking for – or is this just a dream? – after the bearer experiences the dream, they will get the distinct impression that it is not enough. That the Harbinger wants more. It wants to see what this bearer can do. It wants to see you rise to the challenge, bearer! Will you do as it wishes, and show it the scope of your mettle, or will you capitulate and let the Harbinger know that it was right – you aren’t enough?

The Harbinger wants you to prove them wrong. Can you do that? Will you use spite to convince it that it is wrong? The Harbinger at the center of this labyrinth imparts to bearers, that it will not allow the weak to succeed, that nobody who cannot reach it, would ever be able to protect them. They look down on bearers, and it is up to you, to convince them that you are worth their attention.

When bearers wake, they will be stuck in a foyer. The walls seem blank, and there is a door, leading further into the maze. It is not… fully dark, everything here seems to be lit just enough to move around without trouble, but it is not bright. Bearers can look left, and right, and see others beside them. They are not alone, but nor are they with others of their faction. No, you can feel it, between all of you, gathered here in one space. The humming of your shared aspect fills the room, as if all of you together in one space feels right.

You will not be able to stay. The foyer lasts only until the last person leaves, and if any try to stay behind and stationary, they will find that eventually a door appears, and the room begins to shrink. You had better get moving!

You must move further into the maze. You will find that grouping up for long periods of time becomes impossible, and moving from one door to the next can find foes, allies, or even neutral parties. Every door you open within this maze, leads to new and unusual locations. You may both walk in, from opposite ends, only to find that the doors are gone when you turn your back. Do you end up on a precarious path over spikes, lava, or even water? Do you walk into a room with your greatest desire, a hunger that can now never be sated? Will you do anything to find your way through the corridors? Will bearers help each other, and resist the call of the Harbinger, or will you push over even your treasured ones to win?

MADE IN THE SHADE

And even further in, as you start to catch sight of them, patches of darkness seep into the corners, into everything. They may be hidden, at first. They may lurk underneath patches of leaves, or in shadowed corners. But the longer bearers are within this labyrinth, the longer the shadows seem. They start to reach out, to pull bearers into their shadowy depths. You may feel malaise, or an unwillingness to continue, once you first step within these patches. The longer you are there, the harder it is to get out. You will need help from your friends or dear ones, or sheer strength of will – but can you fight on, as you start to lose the things that motivate you?

And then there are the visions. People you know, love, or trust, they round corners, just ahead. They seem just out of range, and at first, it is difficult to tell if they are there or not. But they happen to reappear, and then disappear around a corner. Try and chase them, if you dare. When your fingers touch their arm, or grab their clothing, or heaven forbid, if you pull them into a hug – it seems impossible to pull away. They were treasured, weren’t they? There is a reason they appear here, to you. Why would you want to pull them away? Why would you –

They reach out, their fingers seem long, as they reach toward your shard – they will not be deterred by clothing or armor, their fingers seem to bend and twist around the junctions – before they find purchase on your shard. They rip it from you, and it feels like you are being separated from something. It’s painful, it hurts, but the last thing you see, as they hold your shard in your hand, is someone you care very deeply for, placing the shard in the same place on their own body, and your own face smiles back at you, and it all goes black. You are gone. Into… nothing.

NOTES

Here are some prompts to set the scene and foundation of the Exalt Oracle! Please refer to the ooc post for more details about what’s happening in the labyrinth! Feel free to direct questions here.

If your character gets killed by a shadow-copy, please let us know in the reporting post that goes up on November 20th if they touch the effigy. If they do not, please let us know on the deaths page! Don't forget to report any dissipations as a whole! Please also let us know if your character is saved by another bearer, or if your character’s shard is taken by the shadow copy for the entire duration of the event. This will not result in any permadeath, but you might get some cool lore! Teehee! If your character defeats a shadow creature, please let us know [HERE]

Comments

► gavial

[epiprocta]

[ He can't even bring himself to feel excited about finding another door, at this point. Because after slogging through too many endless hallways and fighting through bullshit traps -- he just knows that this next door will probably just be more of the same. Though not making his way through this place also isn't an option, so ... ugh. Ugh.

He hates it here. But also, like hell he's going to just sit still and let Zenith lose this battle without a fight.

Standing before another door he's found down some dark, dimly-lit hallway -- one he'd traversed down on purpose, hoping that heading towards the less-appealing path would get him somewhere -- Gen takes a deep breath. Flexes his hands, makes sure he's ready, then kicks it open in one swift move. Even as the door swings open before him, Gen remains standing firmly outside the threshold of the room for a nice, long moment, squinting into the room to first make sure it's not some big dumb pit that he'll have to climb out of again.

Probably a good thing that there's something in the room he can easily recognize even from his vantage point outside the room. It only takes a moment of cautious squinting before Gen notices the sharp lash of something long, green and scaly -- a reptilian tail he definitely recognizes. ]

-- hey. [ Is Gavial in any state to recognize the Perro-ish young man from before? Regardless of what the answer might be, here he is, cautiously stepping into the room as he tries to get a better grasp on whatever fresh hell he's going to have to contend with in this room. Ah, what was her name again -- ] Gavial?

[kinaesthesia]

[From the moment she woke up down here in this labyrinth with the others, Gavial has been fielding the persistent need for further victory like a song stuck in her head for too long. The itch to seek it out spurred her along these winding halls, into increasingly ridiculous rooms with increasingly ridiculous gimmicks to them. But they’re all still stuck down here, chasing the dangling carrot of a meaningful win with nothing concrete to show for their efforts thus far.

Because of it, there’s been a steady annoyance building over the course of who-knows-how-many days, souring her mood bit by bit. How she wins things isn’t through puzzles and trickery, in subterfuge and clever games. Give her something she can swing her fist at or tear through with her axe and she’ll stand victorious in no time. But there hasn’t been a whole lot of opportunity for that here yet, not unless she wants to risk things getting messy by throwing down with someone next chance she gets. And she would be lying if she didn’t say that she’s beginning to find that to be an increasingly enticing plan.

So she doesn’t think too much of it when she steps into yet another mysterious room and that urge just seems to skyrocket.

By the time the door swings open and a familiar young man stands peering into the room, Gavial’s made a mess of it. It’s almost like the place had been purposely filled with things just begging to be broken—scattered fragments of porcelain decorate the floor, various types of furniture rent into pieces, perhaps something almost oddly human-shaped slumped in one corner. It had all been an outlet for this frustrating need, but it wasn’t quite enough. This was all the equivalent of just empty calories, all the motion and bluster but none of the satisfaction of a challenge, of something fighting back. But—

Her gaze turns to the doorway, watching as Gen takes a halting step into the room with her. Knuckles torn and bloody, she reaches down to wrench her staff free from where it is lodged in a wooden panel of something that may have once been a dresser. She motions with it to the room at large.]

Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in.

[Guess the room of hunger really does deliver, doesn’t it?]

[epiprocta]

[ Gen, meanwhile, glances around as he takes stock of the state of the room -- and breathes a short, little huff. Not quite a sigh of relief.

Why wouldn't he? As far as he can tell, it's just a bunch of junk in the room. And if any of it ever posed a problem, then Gavial's seemingly already taken care of it.

It's not like he knows a lot about Gavial, but he knows enough about her to take stock of the situation, he thinks. Gavial knows some level of medical healing magic bullshit, but that doesn't make her some waifish, wispy little healer girl; that fight with a Discord-addled Link had been brief, but more than enough for him to take stock of her abilities. And if that wasn't enough, there's the state of the room. Gen casually kicks shattered remains of porcelain jars and bits of fractured wood out of the way as he slinks across the room, closer to where Gavial wrenches her staff free of some shattered piece of furniture. ]

Guess you already took care of this place, huh. [ It's a rather large piece of wrecked furniture that blocks his way neck, maybe what used to be a chest of drawers. Briefly, Gen thinks to himself -- Gavial really is way scarier than she looks, huh -- before stepping around it. ] Looks like you had one hell of a time, though.

[ He'd reflexively drawn his mace from where it sits holstered at his belt, and Gen idly bounces it against his shoulder as he crosses the last few steps to approach where Gavial is. His posture is relaxed and easy, and despite the drawn weapon, he's clearly assuming that he's speaking to an ally that he has no reason to be on-guard around. Why would he think otherwise? ]

So s'there something else to take care of before we can get outta here?

[ His pointy canine ears flick in thought as he looks to her. That's why she's still here, right? Because she's not finished solving some dumb puzzle yet? ]

[kinaesthesia]

[If this has been some kind of vague puzzle, it’s starting to feel like the missing piece is sliding into place now.

No one has ever accused Gavial of taking a lot of time to think things through. She’s known for being brash, rushing into things the moment she sees an opportunity to barrel into a situation and solve things her way. Maybe, sometimes, people had been right to criticize her for it. But it had always felt like the right answer to her, and this right here? The path of destruction she’s haphazardly left around this room? That felt right too. Scratched an itch that so badly needed a little relief, but it hasn’t quite gone away. In fact, it only feels like its grown in severity.

One foot is planted on top of the wrecked dresser and she leans forward to rest an elbow on the that raised knee, watching Gen’s approach with a steady gaze. His question, at first, gets a question of her own.]

You ever just have the need to blow off some steam? Something about the place was just begging me trash it… Didn’t quite give me what I want, though.

[Gavial only knows so much about what Gen himself is capable of. She got a glimpse of it that day in Springstar, saw those Arts he seemed capable of. Helped patch him up enough to know that he’s pretty good at taking a beating too. And you know what? That’s good enough for her.]

So you’re right. There’s something else I need here. Been looking for something.

[He gets an easy smile from her, but there’s a sharp glint to her eyes that makes for a fitting companion to the slow, predatory sway of her tail behind her.]

Think I might’ve found it. You game?

[epiprocta]

[ Because Gen is a shitty teenager, Gavial's question only earns a grunt and a little half-shrug of the shoulders at first. Of course, the truth is that he totally gets it -- violence had often been his go-to method of venting some stress back home, too. He hadn't had the resources or ability to do anything on the level of what Gavial's accomplished here, but he'd broken some shit and gotten into plenty of fights. Gen knows how it feels when your blood's boiling hot in your veins, and it feels like the only way to vent some of that heat is by making someone else bleed a little. (Or a lot.)

So even before Gavial actually flashes him that smile, his nerves are already pinging through with instinctive caution; his reflexes catch on before his conscious mind that Gavial's posture doesn't seem like she's ready to leave just yet. The fine hairs on his canine ears are standing on end by the time he spots the gleam of her teeth, and Gen narrows his eyes.

His own smile in return is a touch more thin-lipped, even if he stands his ground, refusing to back away or show any sign of hesitation. ]

Y'know, I think we're supposed to be fighting the Meridian. Not wastin' our time fighting with each other.

[ So he says, but his hands slowly tights around the handle of his mace until the leather creaks; his gaze scans Gavial over from head to toe, fixing briefly on the steady lash of her tail before meeting her gaze once more. Affirming to himself: oh, she's fucking serious.

An uneasy little knot of discomfort forms at the back of his throat that he swallows back, thinking back to the sheer force she'd displayed back during that fight with a Discord-addled Link. Is he really going to be able to hold up if that violence is directed his way? Only one way to find out, huh.

A deep breath before he shoots Gavial a toothy grin of his own in challenge. ]

... I ain't gonna hold back if you're serious about this, though.

[ In other words: he's ready to fight dirty. The moment she lunges at him, he's going to vanish into the dirt to reposition himself for an ambush from behind. ]

[kinaesthesia]

[Maybe Gavial’s feeling the rare bout of homesickness, wanting to reach back and embrace her roots a little. For the Tiacauh, fighting is just as natural as breathing. It’s how they solved problems, how they vented, how they bonded. And when she was a kid, she lived that reality the best of them all. In the years since she left home, though, she might’ve thought that those kinsmen of hers were a little too eager to leap into fights sometimes, but…

Hell, maybe those knuckleheads were onto something after all.

It’s been too long since she had a real, proper throw down and something about these frustrating labyrinthine hallways is making her long for the days when everything had a simple answer. A single answer. Why not take the time to reminisce a little? Get the blood really pumping?]

Hey, I’ll take what I can get.

[There’s no Meridian here, but Gen is; a hot-tempered kid with too much pride to run from a fight, no matter how nonsensical the whole affair might seem if they looked at it with any amount of scrutiny. And Gavial herself is too busy holding that old, aching need to fight off just long enough to wait for his roundabout acceptance of her challenge to think too hard on it.

So the moment he flashes her a grin of his own, confirms that he’ll be giving it his all, she laughs. A delighted (read: deranged) little peal to cut through the mounting tension in the air.

And then, as he expects, she’s making a lunge for him with no more hesitation. Her staff cleaves a wide arc through the air as he disappears into the dirt, and she realizes now that she’ll need to be quicker if she wants to counteract those earthen skills of his. She makes the mistake of expecting his reappearance to take more time, but the quickness with which he can move through the earth leaves her back open to a strike from him—though it’s one she’ll try to counteract with a low sweep of her tail at his legs.]

[epiprocta]

[ He'd said he wouldn't hold back, and he isn't planning on it. But still -- as fight-happy and aggressive as Gen is, he isn't so far gone as to really go all-out under these circumstances, not yet. They're still allies on the same side, fighting for Zenith, and his main goal is to win the oracle for Zenith; killing Gavial won't accomplish anything towards that end, probably.

So he's just going to scrap with her for a little bit to tire her out, and then they can go ahead and get out of here. Get back to the real goal of figuring out this maze and winning this for Zenith, right?

(... right?)

That's why he'd switched his grip on his mace while underground, clasping it close to the head and instead swinging the handle of it like a nightstick. A mace isn't an easy weapon to use in non-lethal fashion, and he has to hope this shift in weight further lessens its effectiveness, especially since he aims it at Gavial's shoulder instead of her head like he usually would when fighting to maim.

Which -- he rather regrets within moments. Because while that blow does land, it's nowhere near enough to incapacitate Gavial before the lash of her tail violently rips his legs out from under him. Gen doesn't even think to dodge it; unused to keeping his attention down low, he catches that sweep fully and ends up hitting the ground with a hard thump and a hoarse wheeze as every last wisp of air leaves his lungs.

He'd swear if he had the breath for it. But he doesn't, so he can't. Gen instead has to settle for slamming his hand onto the ground beside him, hurrying to act before Gavial can smash his face to a paste with that staff -- aiming to wipe out the ground below her and plunge her into a pit to hold her off for just a few moments until he can catch his breath. ]

[kinaesthesia]

[There is a give and take to proper fights, and Gavial is pleased that things here are starting off with such a tempo. The blunt end of his mace finds its mark at her shoulder just as she feels that instinctive sweep of hers catch his legs—which, she can’t help but laugh at how often that move catches people around here off guard. So Gen goes down and Gavial goes pitching forward, trying to follow the momentum of his swing right up until his balance is stolen right from under him.

She savors that ache in her shoulder as she whirls around, staff at the ready for yet another swing. Unlike Gen, she is very much not being mindful of which end of her weapon she’s brandishing for this “friendly” bout, so it’s a rather good thing his quick thinking shifts the ground beneath her feet before she could follow through with that blow while he’s stunned and out of breath. The earth beneath her shifts, and she has to pivot from the follow-up attack to focus on holding her own balance as the ground opens up beneath her.

Oh, she is going to get tired of this very quickly.

The pit she’s thrown into doesn’t give her a lot of room to maneuver, but the mere idea of putting up with this stalling tactic of his for any longer than she has to is beginning to stoke some ire. Her appetite for a fight has grown too great in here, and she’s going to make sure she gets it.

So she steps back, makes a bounding leap upward and digs her staff into the uneven earthen wall in front of her, using it to try to propel herself further upward. She manages to get one arm back up over the edge of the pit Gen had unceremoniously dropped her into, and she scrambles to try to get a better purchase—and perhaps finds a foot to try to seize instead.]