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

[epiprocta]

[ He jerks his arm back as soon as he feels those gauntlets loosen from around his wrist, ignoring the throbbing pain as he tries to put some distance between them. But he's just not quick enough.

The very air between them seems to be pushed aside from the speed and ferocity with which Dimitri lunges at him; Gen barely has time to stumble back an extra half-step before that terrifying bulk bears down on him. It's only by sheer chance that he manages to keep one arm free, his prosthetic. The other is pinned to his side as those gauntlet-clad arms clamp around him, as implacable as wrought iron bonds. Of course Gen promptly struggles, kicking and reeling his free arm back to deal Dimitri a punch to the side of the head -- a blow that would be vicious enough to give any normal man a concussion, but perhaps not enough to discombobulate a Dimitri stewing in rage and adrenaline.

And before he can reel his arm back for a second blow, there's the creak of Dimitri's grasp pulling tighter around him, followed by the sickening crunch of several of his ribs snapping.

Breathing immediately becomes almost impossible. His voice only escapes as a strangled, truncated little noise -- unable to form a scream. And even as he shudders and jolts in Dimitri's grasp, fighting past the pain, Gen grits his teeth ... then grabs at Dimitri's face with his hand. A seemingly hapless gesture at first, though Dimitri will realize very quickly that it's nothing so innocuous. The metal of Gen's prosthetic goes from cool, to warm, to uncomfortably hot within seconds, even as his finger shoves against Dimitri's good eye.

If Dimitri doesn't let him go immediately, he's going to get his good eye burnt to a crisp at best; his entire face is going to be charcoal at worst. ]

[hauntedking]

[ Perhaps his intention isn't, at first, to kill - but it is to wound and it is to hurt and there's no real difference, at the end of the day. He can feel Gen's body giving way under his arms and he exhales in a soft hiss as he perhaps contemplates holding back - giving ground for a moment - but then that hand catches him the first blow and there's a cry of pain, but he fights through it with a renewed sense of purpose. His strength redoubles - and then the hand catches him again and there's a flaring moment of heat, as if he's had his face placed against a hot stove. Even a man like Dimitri has instincts and with a yell he releases Gen, hurling him to the floor and taking a step back to slap at his own face, trying to feel if he's injured - or if he's been blinded.

It takes him a moment to do so - and then his expression, dark and furious settles on Gen again and once again he comes after him with his bare hands. ]

It's time we put an end to this-

[epiprocta]

[ At least Dimitri gets a nice, long, uninterrupted moment to take stock of the burns seared into his face (ugly and painful, but no impairment to his vision) after throwing Gen to the ground -- because all Gen can do at first is struggle for air, choking on his own halting breaths. It genuinely feels like his own lungs are fighting against him, a stunning pain ripping through his crushed ribcage, and it takes him all his strength just to haul himself up onto all fours, then onto his feet.

Aah, fuck. He's tired. Hungry, dehydrated, exhausted. It hurts real bad. There's cold sweat starting to bead down his brow and into his eyes, and he's lost his mace in the scuffle. This sucks. He's going to lose this fight, isn't he?

Maybe Dimitri can make out a few mumbled words between Gen's shallow, jagged, whistling gasps. ]

... do it properly, alright.

[ Then Dimitri is upon him.

What more can he do when he's lost his weapon? Not much. It's a truly sloppy last-ditch effort when he tries to dodge Dimitri's hands by melding into the ground once more, emerging at Dimitri's right -- in the blind spot of his missing eye -- and driving the knifepoint of his prosthetic hand into whatever gap he can find in Dimitri's armor. His fingertips have been heated up to a searing red-hot; all he wants is to inflict as much damage as he can before he goes. ]

[hauntedking]

[ The last minute dodge does earn Gen the satisfaction of getting his knife in against his armor. It skids against metal and bites in under a lip, but Dimitri doesn't seem to feel it. He reaches down to grab the wrist and squeeze until the knife drops. He's panting for breath, in pain, full of a dull anger and fury at Gen. He doesn't understand him. He doesn't know why he spends so much time trying to hurt others - but maybe this is what it has all led to, in the end. Maybe this was always going to happen.

He lifts with a grunt, hoists Gen up and over his head and turns toward that baleful Oracle with a little exhale of breath. ]

This is for you.

[ And then he hurls Gen, much like one might hurl a sack of flour or potatoes or wheat.

If he has to follow up on this, he will. But he half expects that he won't need to. ]

[epiprocta]

[ He kicks and struggles as he's hefted up, of course -- strains and writhes against Dimitri's grasp until he's hacking for air in truncated gasps, his lungs feeling like they're about to burst. But frankly, he's starting to give up. As stubborn and vindictive as he is, Gen knows when he's been beat.

By the time Dimitri hurls him at the statue, he's silent save the short, plaintive wheezes of his breaths. And the moment his body makes contact with those hands held forth in demand --

( It's a split second, but it feels like it lasts an eternity. The pain of his body being wrenched apart from his soul. The invasive touch of something assessing him, as if tasting him. The terrifying, possessive grasp of the Harbinger latching around his body and fully tearing it away from him. )

Dimitri is right. There's no need for a follow-up. For the span of a heartbeat, he might have felt like Gen had met his eyes, terrified and pained, when he hit the effigy.

Then it doesn't matter, because Gen's body explodes into a shower of gore, painting an enormous lurid halo around the effigy. There's the quiet plink of a shard dropping out of the air to bounce once, twice across the uneven ground before it comes to rest in a puddle of still-lukewarm, viscous blood. Then, as Dimitri breathes in that overwhelming stench of copper permeating the room, there's the quiet click and creak of a door behind the effigy swinging open in invitation. His reward for a job well done. ]

[hauntedking]

[ That was not what he expected. Maybe he should have, thugh. Dimitri smells the blood and sees Gen simply - what? Vaporize? He feels bile rise in his throat and he swallows it; forces it down. He's done something terrible.

But it was necessary, wasn't it?

It had to be done. He steps forward a few steps and crouches to retrieve the shard, tucking it into his breastplate for safekeeping - and then he leaves without a backward glance. There's no point. There's no reason to stay.

The competition goes on. ]