⏳ THE SCORCHING ISLE: Oracle Event One ⏳

[beleos]

ARRIVAL

All Bearers have heard whispers of them - the Oracles. Mysterious and unknown entities of an abstract nature, they serve as the heart of each faction’s cause - both as a means to an end and a very real stepping stone in achieving their objectives. To claim an Oracle means growing ever closer to victory: to see your homes restored as they were, or to herald in a new one of your making.

So you go.

A Cornerstone has been set up for each faction; one for the Zenith and one for the Meridian in Yima’s manor and Heliopolis, respectively. They warn you that upon transportation, your safety cannot be guaranteed and there is no telling what waits for you beyond - to be prepared. To make sure you have whatever you deem necessary with you before you go, as there is no telling when - or how - you will be coming back. CONTINUED HERE...

NOTES

Upon your arrival, you woke up with an HOURGLASS NECKLACE. Please refer to the Time Mechanics on the OOC Summary and bottom of this post for details on its usage.

The COURTYARD is frozen in time. Player Characters and the Great Tree are the only signs of moving, free life in the courtyard. During the intro, time magic does not work.

Characters are free to investigate but cannot move beyond the courtyard if you choose a prompt during the intro. You may mingle among your fellow Bearers or speak with [MR. TIBBS] if you so choose. (Also? LOOK AT HIM HELP)

Iconoclasts and Stargazers will notice Aspect benefits/detriments now.

All characters will be weak for the 24 hours - think like mild flu - and unable to leave until Mr. Tibbs has dispersed them. This is the time in which any threads with the NPC will be carried out.

The INTRO concludes with said dispersal of PC’s once interactions concluded. They will be sent to a location around the castle of your choosing; they are free to move about freely from here. Your prompts can start with you waking alone or in the presence of others - whatever you’d like!

Your character will innately understand how to use time magic from this point forward. It will come naturally to them, like a skill they were born with.

CASTLE: OVERVIEW (p a s t)

The Scorching Isles is home to the Atirat, a people of sea-dwellers who have the ability to walk on land. (Think mermaids with the ability to shift back and forth between human and mermaid forms.) As such, much of the Scorching Isles is covered in large bodies of blue water and glistening pieces of ice to accommodate their lifestyle.

THE CASTLE, however, is what dominates the landscape and it's where the Shard-Bearers will be spending their time. The white castle with colorful glass windows is obscured by a thick layer of clouds and fog. Nearly every location on the island has a thin layer of fog that rolls through it, which gives the entire Island an inescapable chill. The castle has artfully built rooms with a CAVALCADE OF DECORATIVE ICE, lavish mirrors, and white plants accented with blue decorations. Several portions of the castle are submerged due to the aquatic nature of the native residents.

And everywhere you go, you find them - STATUESQUE BODIES FROZEN mid-movement. They are haunting reminders of the power in your Hourglass - the very real power to decide their fates.

The castle has many winding paths to explore, as castles often do. There are sleeping quarters, HALLWAYS, a wine cellar, and a few large rooms presumably for diplomatic affairs. Players can use these rooms at their own leisure for whatever purposes they see fit. (Exploration, combat, or supply gathering.)

However, many of these rooms will require some strategy to access their full potential! Atirat were much more comfortable being underwater than many Kenosians may be. Therefore, rooms of higher importance may be COMPLETELY SUBMERGED or require swimming through an underwater pathway to reach them. Very minimal supplies will be kept out in the open for all to reach. More desirable supplies - such as warm clothing, small weapons, treasure, and the like - will be located past or within one of these flooded areas.

Players may gather supplies within and preserve their Sand or use their Sand to make other rooms accessible and gather whatever lies within! The larger the asset you attempt to unfreeze, the more Sand it costs - and the more drained/vulnerable you will be as a consequence, so choose your path ahead wisely.

Currently, a pervasive fog is preventing you from wandering beyond the Castle's limits. Should you try to venture past it, your Sand will rapidly be stolen and you will find yourself suffering the same fate as the islanders if you don't move back to safety quickly... However, if you ask Mr. Tibbs what lays beyond the mist - he will tell you about the thriving farmland, the once-bustling village surrounding the castle, and the beautiful coral reefs beneath it. Sadly, they're beyond your reach - but maybe if the Bearers decide to unfreeze them when the week is up...

LIBRARY (s a f e z o n e)

The ROYAL LIBRARY - A treasure trove of knowledge, history, and glimpses of a fractured past scattered throughout. The lower floor of the Library is void of much reading material and contains several intricate-looking art pieces on decorative pedestals.

A spiral staircase dominates the center of the room, with its once delicate structure overtaken by sheets of formidable ice; it leads you toward the upper levels where a sea of books awaits. There are isles and isles of books, most perched on intricately carved shelves. Many books lay in piles or are discarded onto the floor, and scattered papers are common throughout.

Curious Kenosians may pick out books from the shelves and read on various topics, but players may also pass through this room on their way elsewhere. This area will function as a safe haven where violence and the taking of others' Sand is not allowed; do not disturb the books or Mr. Tibbs won’t be happy!

NOTES

Characters who wish to receive a book with lore specific to the island may comment [HERE]. You will be RNGed a book from a pre-written list of topics. The books may give you a deeper look into the island, its inhabitants, and its history! (Only 1 book per player! Please assume all other books they read are about commonly-available topics.)

THE EATING PARLOR (p a s t)

There are no basic amenities on the island. No hot water, no warm beds, and no salacious magazines (that you know of. heh heh). That would make the Eating Parlour a wise stop for anyone. After all, this could be the perfect chance to procure some provisions!

The EATING PARLOUR has all the equipment one would need for meal preparation. Dried plants hang from the ceiling, and the walls are lined with mason jars filled with every strange manner of presumably edible thing (Is that a head over there? Hmm… maybe you should check).

The parlour also comes with a garden under a massive windowed dome so that the inhabitants could have fresh produce at hand. Many plants have withered, but there are some salvageable plants if you know how to look for them. But beware… Some of the plants have a strange blue glow. These plants can spell potential disaster.

If someone should make contact with these glowing plants, they will crumble into glass shards - glass that will quickly burrow its way under the skin and curse that person with Blight. Blight will make all resources within that person's vicinity slowly age and eventually crumble to dust. (Which I relate to on a personal level tbh.) Iconoclasts will be immune to its effects.

NOTES

Please see the "Blight" section below for more information on its effects.

TREASURE ROOM (f u t u r e)

Faint singing can be heard coming from this room. Once you hear the song, it dulls your senses and leaves you in a haze. There is no stopping your feet from guiding you to it through the doors and into the Treasure room. The door slams shut at your back, sealed with a wall of ice and magic.

Players will find themselves lured to an icy chamber bordered by a ring of cold blue fire. There is a deep pond that surrounds the platform you’ve found yourself standing on. Beyond its glassy surface and crystal clear water, one can glimpse all manner of treasures - from crowns, jewels, ornate statues in various statues of repair, scepters, spears, and books that seem impervious to the water's cold chill.

As you come to your senses, you will find yourself frozen in place and at the mercy of a large statuesque being before you. This beautiful and horrifying figure in a perpetual song is the SIREN, the only Atirat you’ve seen in person. She measures nearly 20 feet (6 meters) from her head to the tip of her long-finned tail. She cradles an icy shard in her arms, singing to it as if it were a child.

She sits serenely in front of a large hourglass filled with white sand, which is bordered by a spear and a lance. Emblazoned in faint text at the base of where she sits reads: “The future lies in our hands.”

NOTES

Welcome to the Siren’s Chamber! Players must use their wit, charisma, or some good ol' fashioned elbow grease to escape the room or break the Siren’s magic. The Shard that the Siren holds contains dormant time magic that players may activate by using the Sand within their necklace. Players can access the future in 5-second intervals and use whatever they find in that time period to escape their predicament.

For example, if they activate the shard by using their time magic, that shard will begin to glow blue. The room around them will shift, and it could change to a point in the future where there is a sword nearby. If you can grab it, now you have a weapon! When the 5 seconds are up and time returns to the present, you will still have that weapon on your person. You may also try verbal communication if you’d like. If your character is someone who would try and talk their way out of a situation diplomatically, they may give it a try!

It is up to player discretion/creativity to think of a scenario you’d like. Each “future" does not have to be the same across player encounters! What one group experiences may be tailored to the player wants (because branching timelines exist). Let your imagination run free!

HALL OF MIRRORS (p r e s e n t)

Should you reach the rightmost wing of the massive castle Library, you will find a door hidden in the very back of one aisle against a wall; it looks as though the door used to be concealed by magicks that have since dissolved.

The stairwell leads down and into darkness. Once you reach the bottom, shimmering light cast from an unknown source beneath sheets of glistening ice will illuminate your new surroundings; you are in a maze of mirror-like ice. This labyrinth is silent save for the quiet creaking of shifting ice that may disquiet you and leave you uneasy regarding the stability of this area… but it holds beneath your feet.

Mr. Tibbs had told you that the “Kaleidoscope” - where your Sand is counted - rests through here, so eventually, you must brave the journey. Is it a trick of the light? Maybe the product of an especially active imagination…?

Did you just see one of your reflections move without you?

NOTES

Please refer to the OOC Summary for details on the Hall of Mirrors!

THE BLIGHT and TIME MECHANICS

BLIGHT

Blight is an infliction that will age supplies and infect people with a creeping disease that steals their Sand. For objects, this includes weapons, food, and items like cloth. It will take a few days to deteriorate things beyond use - so watching your supplies and acting accordingly is in your best interest. Generally, it will make it more difficult for PC's to get by given that their already scarce resources will dwindle and deteriorate - especially since it's 'contagious' through touch.

The Blight will not act quickly enough to severely hamper infected persons, but repeated exposure will cause effects to a person's body - notedly protruding VEINS in the face and extremities, a lower body temperature, and increased agitation. These effects start out mild and grow more severe with each 'dose.'

Characters must touch an object/person that is Blighted to become inflicted with Blight themselves. When that happens, it will become easily identifiable as Blighted from the faint blue, shimmering outline around the infected subject, as well as the WITHERED, FROSTBITTEN or ashy appearance it takes as it progresses.

However, there is one single perk with Blight. (Or is it a perk?) Players will feel reduced impact by the cold surroundings, making the climate around them somewhat more hospitable. Beware of falling victim to a chill you can't feel...

TIME

To use your Sand, each character is granted access to and innate knowledge of a spell they channel from their Shard that automatically manipulates their Hourglass. This allows the remote control of Sand (aka gathering and dispersing), as well as the ability to pull Fragments of time from Shards.

Fragments are literal pieces of you taken from your Shard. They manifest as memories or images displayed on little shards of broken glass (think of the memory being played out in real-time on the mirror's surface), and can be crushed to convert into Sand automatically, either voluntarily or by force. The only stipulation is that the parties must be close to one another, and the Fragment must be exchanged while both Bearers are still. This means someone has to give it to you, or you need to immobilize them before you take it - one way or another.

Once the Fragment is crushed, the memory and associated time of that person's life is lost and your character will suffer amnesia until the Oracle is claimed. How deep this goes is up to you; they could lose a large chunk of time - even all their memories surrounding a person or place for a big payload of Sand, or they could lose very little for a meager net gain.

Sand is automatically gathered or distributed by your Hourglass and added/subtracted to your running total. No need to micromanage. Convenient!

Please note that using Sand to unfreeze anything (resources, a door which can be then opened, etc) is an unpleasant experience. Each time you use Sand in this way, your character will be left feeling weakened and flu-like for an hour or two, which will leave them vulnerable. This effect stacks and scales up to outright KO-ing them for a few hours if they go crazy, so unfreezing too large of an area is off the table!

NOTES

• An OOC POST will be coming shortly explaining how Sand is going to be tallied and the Oracle claimed.
• Should your character attempt to unfreeze any NPC's, please respond [HERE]. NOTE: unfreezing NPC's may result in physical violence with CW's for severe mental instability/illness and a potential reference to self-harm.
• HAVE FUN!!!

CODING

Comments

set | meridian ( savant )

[redsoil]

[ INTRO. During their time of rest, Set stands apart from both Meridian and Zenith, a solitary figure that lingers among the roots at the base of the great tree; his hands find the trunk, his whispers pained as he announces himself -- as he did to the great tree at the heart of Springstar, during the Harmonization ceremony not too long. It is there that he lingers, holding fast to his focus; his brow furrowed and expression bloodily rich, red hair spilling like a gout of blood from beneath --

Well.

He is a little cold, that's to be sure. While some might have been tickled to see Set utterly ignore Cyrus's warnings of the frozen climate, he has not. Instead, he is covered from throat to toe in appropriate attire, sleek lines and points of articulation protected - yet freely moving. His hair is bound in a single, fat braid that is wound around his throat like a scarf, tucked below the hood. ( x, x )

While they are forced to wait, he seeks the highest points -- scouting, scheming, immediately on the prowl from the get go. The moment the 24hrs are up, Set abandons all present, and takes off like a scarlet streak into the bowels of the castle. A god on a mission. ]

— MEMORY & DESIRE, STIRRING | TERRITORY SEEKING.

[ This place is precisely the opposite of his domain. Where he rules the desert, the silent castle is the domain of frost. It is cold and blue, where he is arid and red. Still, characters may come across evidence of his travels -- the most direct path taken, walls and doors shattered apart by forceful blow where able to be, and alternative routes opened cleverly. Set uses as little Sand as possible, apparently, to get wherever he goes.

For anyone who follows his route, they will find that he has vanished near a pool of crystalline water, the blue of it rich and dark towards the far wall, as though a staircase leading down into the bowels of the castle. It seems that Set has immediately begun seeking out the sub-levels for some reason, and the stillness of the water suggests some time has passed since he came in that direction. ( He is definitely looking for something in particular. )

[ ROUTE A. Characters who brave the waters at the end will find themselves traveling a long hall, with multiple branching paths into adjoining rooms - some closed, some open to reveal what might be guard quarters or bunk rooms. At the far end is a great door wrought from black ice, pushed open far enough to allow the room's natural lighting to illuminate the otherwise dark hallway.

Entering the room at the end of the hallway reveals that the room beyond, the room that Set has sought, is the armory. The entire room is submerged, save for small air pockets at the very top of the arching ceiling. Countless weapons and armor lay scattered among the pale, timelocked vault -- twin polearms with frosted, crystalline blades pierce the floor as if to guard the contents within.

And within, is the god of war himself; having shed ( and hidden! ) his cold weather gear, he is brilliant and red in an otherwise frosted room, floating ten, twenty, twenty-five feet from whomever has just reached him. In his hands, he clutches another polearm. Trim, sleek and clearly far more ornate than other weapons within the armory; his eyes narrow, hands wrapping tight around it, and it is ON SIGHT, that he lunges through the cold water.

After all, anyone who has managed to follow him must be a threat to be handled, and swiftly. ]

[ ROUTE B. Rather than risk the waters, the waiting game is played. Eventually, the redhaired god of war must return, and return he does. Soaking wet yet barely shivering, he surfaces with a faint gasp for air; clutched in his hands is a beautiful trident, tri-pronged and gleaming with gems embedded upon it. There is no sign of his cold weather clothes upon him. In fact, there's no clothes on him whatsoever. Ruthless in his nudity, he places the trident to one side, far from whomever is there with him, before readying himself to climb out. ]

There is an armory down there, [ he declares, loftily. ]

I have found the only item left untouched by the decay. It's not worth the dive any more, I recommend you do not bother.

[ His gear is located, pulled from its hiding place ( you didn't steal it did you ) as he wrings his hair dry of the water. It must have served as a buffer against the cold, or perhaps that is to do with the his claims that he is a god. As he begins to shake water free of his limbs before re-donning his clothing, he adds: ] Unless you do not trust my word?

[ That seems like a loaded question. ]

( OOC. Route A! is one of two combat/competition opportunities for Set. As an underwater encounter, characters may run the risk of drowning if unable to reach the air pockets at the top of the armory. This is obviously at your discretion, and Set will ultimately haul them to safety once subdued - and possibly steal sand from them, if you're agreeable! The items within, per event mods, are Blighted, except for the trident that he has his hands on. He is VERY UNWILLING to hand it over. I will not be RNG'ing this fight, as he will yield if he deems the situation too dangerous for himself or the other character.

Furthermore, Set's focus in terms of territory is pursuing resources, spaces to claim as his little war room, and he is largely ignoring people unless convinced otherwise. This prompt will happen EARLY IN THE WEEK, for timeline's sake. )

— I WILL SHOW YOU FEAR IN A HANDFUL OF DUST | FROZEN BATTLEFIELD

[ A. [ Exploration and rest, exploration and rest. The process of seeking the Oracle is a gradual one, rife with quests for information, battles for resources and the acquisition of Sand to fuel one's might. Set is not at all difficult to locate, being that his coloration is brilliant as an open wound against the pale blues and frost of the Scorched Isles. He carries with him the spoils of his own explorations -- a pretty trident of obviously unique origins, and elects to prove himself as

the greatest freaking nuisance to you all.

Bold and smiling ferociously, this is the time where he recoups his early losses -- doing battle with those who seek it from him freely, and potentially pursuing those who he believes could stand to lose some of their own Sand. ]

( OOC. Here is the second of the two combat/competition fights, of which I am customizing starters for all! Simply reply under my tlevel with COMPETITION or COMBAT for a starter that is either focused on PVP for the pleasure of it, for you lunatics that just want to Test Your Might and Cut Loose, or for those who would like to RNG Sand gains and losses between Set and your character.

'Competition' is Sand-less, 'Combat' is Sand-focused. He will be all over the castle in various locations, and his challenges range from strict combat to steeplechases to debates -- something for everyone! Lmk if you have a particular style of "combat" your character might engage well in, and I'll design the battlefield/location! )

— FEAR DEATH BY WATER | PRESENT & FUTURE

[ OPEN TO ONE (1) CHARACTER. The moment he lays eyes upon the Siren, it is obvious.

The red of his eyes follow the cradle of her arms, gazing into the Shard that rests between them -- the Shard that she sings her song to. It is obvious, that there is some sort of rapid connection being made in Set's head. Whether that connection is true or false, it happens within moments. Though he and the other soul have entered the room prepared, nothing seems to have readied him for what sight is before him -- and immediately upon being able to move, he steps back. Back again, and outside of the Siren's doors, gait stiff and trident held firm in his hands. He crouches there, beyond the doors where her voice becomes muffled, and tucks his brow to his knee, red hair spilling across the ground. ]

It's her child.

[ He says it, unwaveringly. ]

She believes it is her child.

[ And why wouldn't she? The song she sings now sounds like a lullaby to his ears, the hook of her arms that of a mother lovingly holding her offspring to her -- the world fades away, in a moment like that. And in her song, Set feels the numbness choking him; on the ground outside of her domain, he speaks in divine tongue - the lyrical, elegant flow of someone whispering as if not to wake someone. Whispering secrets into an ear that may only remember the words as a dream, upon waking. When he looks up, it is

with eyes that

understand the Siren, far too intimately. ] I cannot harm her. I will support you, and I will protect you, but I will not lay a hand upon her in violence.

[ It is a far cry from who he has been upon the field thus far. But, he is resolute in his will. Familiar, with her, perhaps. ]

— OED' UND LEER DAS MEER | WILDCARDS

[ OOC. For all other threading options, go wild! Following battles, Set can be found in the library, enjoying something hot to drink and anything to eat and is available for non-combat related conversations, plots and other types of thread. He can also be found seeking maps of the castle and surrounding environment, will barter for information and trade in both information, Sand and his own body ( not like that! to guard and guide others! ) at any time, so feel free to pretend like your character has managed to hire him as a sturdy go-fer if they want to explore some difficult terrain or have someone hot on their heels.

I'm down for anything! ]

competition

[cutlery]

[ They promised, etc. You can also get to this one after they finish up their Communion thread if you want to prioritize finishing that up first! 👍 ]

[redsoil]

[ okay now it's time to start this bc their weird sex thread communion hangout is wrapping up ]

Finally, I've the time to spend on you.

[ In the same way that Set's voice wraps around Sebastian, so too does his body. Dressed warmly, smartly prepared against the chill of the Scorching Isles, he resembles a completely different person. If not for the braided fall of his bright hair from below the hat and lined hood, and the scarlet embroidery of his coat, he might be indistinguishable from the next Shard-Bearer upon the field. The statement is coy, perhaps humorous in tone, considering the nature of their work here upon the Isles and the task laid before them. Set brims with Sand, taken by trade or force, and spent very, very precisely throughout the week. He is not a rich man, but there is a sense that the existence of the Sand plays along the lines of his domains -- god of the red desert, god of boundless sands. ]

We danced together last time. We spoke in our Communion. I feel I am coming to know you intimately, Sebastian Michaelis.

[ As intimately as he is allowed to. ]

Strength of arm, intellect, will and influence -- there are so many ways we can compete with one another. Why not luck this time? Shall we wager and gamble? And not for Sand, of course.

[ KAKEGURUI THEME BLASTING IN THE BG ]

[cutlery]

[ They’re charged statements, but of the sort that Sebastian welcomes with an easy and sly smile. It’s another similarity they share, where particular turns of phrase and choices of words are undoubtedly sensual. So, how amusing it is to be on the receiving end for once. ]

So indeed. Our relationship developed quite quickly to go from exchanging pleasantries through combat to then intermingle so. I admit, the latter is something I tend to avoid, Communion being as it is… Yet ours was pleasant indeed.

[ He’s very tempted to coyly tease at further intimacy, but decides against it. The intimate Communion was something he had indulged in because of curiosity, and it’s the same as a wager comes up. It may as well be bait for the sort of demon he is, but it’s why he smiles with open, mischievous delight. ]

Ah, a bet with a devil? You know, there are many tales that warn against such things. [ It’s teasing rather than an actual warning, though. ] I am intrigued, of course. If not Sand, then what do you propose we offer?

[redsoil]

We must be agreeable to one another, then.

[ A neutral term. 'Agreeable', can mean so many things; after all, Set finds that many individuals in Kenos, on either side, are 'agreeable' to him. Hayame's drive and will are agreeable, Tyki and Liem and Paul's devotion to their individual gods is agreeable, Rudbeckia's cringing obedience and even Silco's virulent conviction are agreeable. With that in mind, Sebastian's otherworldly sense of self counts, too. These things resonate well within him, and drive him to pursue them all in turn. In this, his appetites are vast and multifaceted, impartial and indiscriminate as he will one day be known.

Sebastian, he meets inside of the castle, within a room devoted to vast windows that turn to the passage of the sun. ]

It depends on how far ahead you wish to think our relationship might extend, and I care not for money, nor tangible items. 'A favor' or 'a service' is generally a fine offer, though naturally we would wish to include caveats and limitations. 'A secret' is always a delightful thing to win, but requires the willingness of both competitors to actually cough up something of value. Enki and I once wagered on 'training', where he won and demanded I instruct his elite warriors in a combat style of my choosing.

[ It's clear he's excited by the prospect. ]

I have issued the challenge and it's, why don't you pick the offering? Is that of equal value in your eyes?

calling dibs on the siren

[liuli]

[ it seems that set is not the only one who's come to this conclusion. he finds himself in the room with an armored gu yun, a sword at his hip, his dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. he's not the lilting, silly voice over the communion this time - this is the commander, the marquis of order, holding as still as a statue as he assess their situation.

a crazy half mermaid woman who believes a shard is her child. sure.

despite his everything, gu yun is soft hearted, sometimes. it would be easier to just kill her and take the hourglass for meridian, but the insistence with which his companion says he will not harm her means that's likely not an option. alright. plan b.

his dark eyes scan their proverbial battlefield, for a moment, clever and bright, assessing. and then... ]

Break the illusion of it? Or fetch the hourglass without changing the status quo?

[ which one is it going to be? let her live in false happiness, or end it? ]

cw mention of infanticide/femicide

[redsoil]

[ His hands ache to hold his son. Like the siren within, he yearns to bring his beloved child into his arms and protect him from the world; let him give into madness ( again ), let it be the end of him, so long as Anubis's future is assured. So long as they are together. The siren's song evokes such sentiment in the stern-eyed god, a dull ache in his chest spreading like wildfire into his throat.

When he speaks, his voice is strangled. As though he is on the verge of tears, though his eyes are sharp and clear when finally he looks up to Gu Yun. This one, he believes he recognizes by virtue of the sound of his voice and the resolve in his posture. He is different, upon the field. A man worthy of admiration, one that Set feels as naturally drawn to as he does to the warrior-maiden Hayame, and a select few others.

It would be wise to put her out of her misery. He has slaughtered women and their children before, after all; Egypt lay in ruins because of him, the goddess supreme having suffered with her mothers as one of them. What would be one more, one who does not even run the risk of tripping his curse, for she has no tie to the throne of Egypt? ]

Break the illusion. If cruelty is to be done, let her face it free of her madness and choose what path she wants to take.

[ A harder task, but he is the god of war, and will always choose to fight what his heart desires most. The decision made, his mouth thins and eyes sharpen, and he rises to his feet -- the sound of the trident whistling sharply through the air heralding his hefting of it. ]

Marshal of Great Liang, [ how respectful! ] Shall we dance?

[liuli]

[ if set starts crying gu yun will be absolutely unsure how to handle any of it so thank god that doesn't happen. he's very, very busy assessing the room, thinking for a moment not of a woman holding her baby, but of a tiny, near feral child in the woods, and the way he grabbed onto gu yun's silks and tucked his face into them like he knew it was safe. he'd marveled then how trusting chang geng was - how little he'd done to earn it, and how quickly the child had buried his face in his chest and called him home.

none of that shows on his face, though. his dark eyes slide to meet set's, briefly, and his assessment is correct. gone is the lackadaisy layabout shen shiliu; in his place is the backbone of his beloved great liang, a man who carries the world on his shoulders and then some, tasked now with its retrieval the way he's been tasked with its survival. he's heard plenty of set's grandeur and talk from over the communion, and the confidence with which he delivers his answers is the sort you want at your side, particularly with the whistle of his trident. he doesn't care about gods, but someone who can hold their own, a god of war who walks the talk of battle and of pain alike - seems at least a little more prescient than the temple at home, but still. gu yun's respect is respect earned, and at least at the moment, set can have it.

the corner of his mouth lifts at the title. even without his dark armor, without his ziliujin, without his crows, the name is a firm reminder. gu yun is no layabout. he's the marquis of order. ]

So we shall. [ he says, easy (frankly, just as dramatic as set is) and pulls the sword from his side with a sharp shing of metal. he's not sure he'll need it immediately - there's something pulsing in the shard of time they've been given, a sense of magic that gu yun's only just learning, a new tool he's come to recognize.

battle mode.

gu yun's eyes dart through the surface of the pond. treasures of jewels and weapons line the room, but his eyes narrow in on... of all things, there's a flute, beautiful and tucked in a pile of treasure. they've got just a moment of calm in the chaos, here, as the woman cooes to her supposed child, and he'll take that moment. ]

How well can you block your hearing? [ maybe it's just for the song of the siren? ]

[redsoil]

[ The warriors who are gathered from the ends of their world are like music to him, who knows only the lovely refrain of Hathor's harp playing sweetly by the Nile and the audible battlesong held in the mouths of those who prayed for the safety of their loved ones, for those who roared their might across the sands of Egypt and beyond.

Gu Yun is a song - sleek and dark and lovely in his stillness, readily acknowledged by a foreign god of war. Set rises to take his place in preparation, seeking information through the gap in the door. ]

I am perfectly effective in all things I do.

[ Gu Yun asks 'how well', and Set answers without hesitation -- he will tailor his method, as he balances the trident in the crook of his thigh and brings down the warmly-lined hood about his face. Braided hair falls free of the confines, and he pushes it back over his ears. He remembers what it was like, soon after dealing with the Dryad of the tree the first time. His hearing mangled, his sense of balance thrown violently -- to have to damage himself again?

He shakes his hands free of the gloves, knuckles popping as he flexes his fingers, cups his palms. Slowly, he guides them to cover his ears, as though he will simply hold them there and block her song that way. By the severe expression on his face, though, he has something else planned entirely. ]

Tell me what you need me to do. You'll need to signal visually to me, once I do this.

competition/combat

[regression]

[ tell me which vibe it is since joonghyuk is unharmonized......... would that even be obvious. ]

edits now that i've forewarned you

[redsoil]

[ He felt it with Han Sooyoung. He felt it with Kim Dokja. Some part of him sings in response to them, some part of his omnipresent existence might know them; his consciousness is singular, and lives only in the moment presented to him, only to compile as he ages and grows in divine might. He feels it, as well, upon spotting Yoo Joonghyuk in the Courtyard -- a natural inclination to launch himself towards that stoic expression and mess it up. Frustration, prickling across his skin, towards a man he also knows he has never met before. Honestly, being a god is annoying as hell sometimes.

With naught but the tree to bear witness to Set's leap, he descends from the wall of the courtyard in a flash of red, the swing of the gleaming trident he'd located in the bowels of the castle's armory cracking like thunder as he stabs it towards Joonghyuk's person. He wants to throw down with this man, in particular. To set his teeth to his throat, claws to his belly. ]

To first blood, dour-faced warrior!

[ At least he announces his intentions, once he's coming down upon YJH. He radiates intensity, the sensation of war itself -- screaming armies, clashing weapons and howling beasts. ]

closes eyes

[regression]

[ Joonghyuk may be without his abilities, but combat prowess is sewn into every fiber of his body. Instinct and senses warn him of a presence. In a flash, he brandishes two daggers wielded in both hands. They're middling quality, but they can serve their purpose.

One blade parries the trident, catching it between its prongs with a rattling clatter. The block is steady, grounded, and controlled to keep the spear from piercing forward. Quick wristwork has the blade twist to force the spear's angle downward and elsewhere. If Set can readjust his weight so that he doesn't slip with his spear, Joonghyuk will be prepared. If only he knew of Set at all... It's funny for god to meet god killer. ]

I don't care about the oracle.

[ Which he assumes is why Set is attacking him. Despite one who chooses to eliminate threats as soon as he can, he isn't stupid. It's a waste of energy that can be used to pursue his goals. ]

[redsoil]

Haa?

[ The sound is rude, incredulous as Joonghyuk battles the thrust of his weapon aside and Set is forced to yield the strength of it, lest he drive the weapon deeply into the ground instead. Descending still, he plants his foot along the arch of Joonghyuk's hipbone, and uses the man's own body to slow himself. It's not a kick, just the flexible crook of his knee, until he could be perched upon Joonghyuk's body -- an overlarge, red bird.

He sees that second blade of his, and would rather not let it bite him so easily. ]

Neither do I. You just have a face that makes me angry.

[ That's it. A face that he doesn't enjoy. It's handsome, okay, but it also just.

Evokes this sense of ire in him!!! ]

route b!

[lifespanned]

[ Misa happens to catch a glimpse of the man submerging himself to go scout what's below this particular pool of icy water, and she's glad she did — the less actual effort she has to expend, the better. She knows she won't be forcefully taking any sand from anyone, probably... but she can work smarter, not harder, to find where all the useful things are in this castle. And so, she waits for the man to surface, fully intending on asking him what was down there— imagine her luck when he tells her first. ]

Oh, so that's what's down there?

[ There's an airheaded, lofty quality to her words, and she tilts her head innocently, giving a thoughtful hum. Her eyes land on that beautiful jewel-encrusted trident he has there, and truthfully, she does doubt that that was the only find down there. But like hell she'll say that out loud. ]

Don't worry, I believe you. I'm not crazy enough to swim down there to check for myself anyway. [ A shrug. ] I mean, you've gotta be freezing.

[ Though he certainly doesn't look like it... perhaps he's not human...? It's a worthwhile thing to investigate, especially since he's a new face. ]

[redsoil]

[ Down to nothing but his shendyt, he ought to shiver uncontrollably once he's left the waters. It is cold, he will suffer if he does not dress himself quickly. That is the goal: dry himself, dress himself, and recover his internal temperature. The natural warmth of him, even as a demigod, will not sustain him forever. He sets to wringing out his hair, the dark cloth around his hips, eyes watching her without suspicion. Only curiousity.

Either he's careless, or confident in his skill. Also, she looks like -- ninety pounds soaking wet. ]

I wouldn't let you, anyways.

[ Not just to keep the vault's contents from her, but because again. She looks like she'd fucking die if she tried. ]

I have never visited a land as cold as this before. The snow reminds me of sand, but it is cold and sticky in ways I'm quite charmed by.

[ He plants his foot on an ornate section of wall nearby, thigh flexing as he gives a leap -- hup! -- and reaches into an alcove high upon it to seize at his clothes, hidden away from anyone who might seek to pilfer from them, or leave him stranded and vulnerable. Into his pockets he reaches, pulling out

what looks like a little cloth square, slightly fattened by its contents, and radiating steam once it enters the chilly air. A re-warmable pack, then, something that could be held over a flame or source of warmth to capture the heat itself, and then be shoved into clothes. Before he even begins to tug on his clothes ( kept nice and snug and warm by that little square! how wise! ), he approaches Misa and holds it out to her.

It's still warm. ] Here. Tuck it into your coat, or hold it in your hands. It will help.

[lifespanned]

[ He'll have to forgive her if she snorts a bit when he leaps up so heroically to that alcove — even if she's quick to stifle it with two mittened hands covering her mouth. She hadn't expected the superhuman traits (which are so common among their peers) to come out so quickly, and she does find the surprise a bit comical. Especially when he's hopping back down just to offer a little heat pack to her. Which is so undeniably sweet and unexpected from a man who - at least by her initial reaction - seems a little stiff. That only adds to her amusement, so her smile is wide when she holds out her hands to accept it from him. ]

Oh, you'd really give this to me? Thanks, you're such a sweetheart.

[ Closing the pack between her two hands, she presses the back of her palm against her cheek affectionately, cutesy appreciation radiating off of her at high concentration levels. ]

But if you've never been to somewhere cold before, how is it that you're doing so well dressed in so little? Let me guess, you have some kind of heat power?

[ She asks, voice light and airy. That name above his head is clearly that of a God's, she knows that much, having been into such things in her time on Earth. But it's a fool's move to guess something too close to the truth - so she guesses far off, instead, in hopes of finding out if the resemblance goes past the namesake. ]

[redsoil]

-- eugh. Don't do that.

[ The moment the airheaded quality of her voice is accompanied by the cute little gesture, he grimaces at her. It's too much. Gross, he mouths, disgruntled and vaguely repulsed by it. It's one thing for her to be vapid, it's another for that to be coupled with some sort of mawkish affect. There's little in him that trusts others, and despite his giving her the little heating pack he'd tucked into his clothes to keep them warmed while he was diving, it is less his being taken in by her and

she's just tiny, okay? A shrimp. A little flea. A mouse. ]

I am not as encumbered by extreme weather as others. I am the god of the boundless desert, after all.

[ MISA, ARE YOU READY FOR HIS INTRODUCTION NOW ]

combat

[gravings]

[ Gray isn't a stranger to environments rife with enemies both potential and overt, but it's a been a while since she's been boxed into such a breeding ground for conflict. In the last world, in Horos, she'd become intimately familiar with the small number of people she might have to face, and the battles were clear-cut in their staging. Here there are so many new faces, and not everyone is on the same page; even the people who are supposed to be on her side are more suspect than she's used to. But, she tells herself, even if her fellow Meris are a bit prouder and more aggressive than she'd like, they're still technically her allies.

She's exploring, observing the people frozen in time and trying to glean what she can from their postures and placement, when a pressure pushes its way into her consciousness. It isn't a ghost, but it is something that shouts for all of her attention, soaking into her like a splash of oil, and that's all the warning she gets before she feels the presence upon her.

She reaches for Add under her cloak, but she knows a split second later that it's already too late to deploy him. She abandons the motion and pivots to face whatever is coming, and at the same time throws her weight away in a bid to put distance between her and it. She pours magical energy into her body by reflexive survival instinct — but even with increased speed and toughness, she feels a flash of intuition that it might not be enough. ]

rip gray.....

[redsoil]

[ Gray's intuition is a fine thing, as much so as her courage.

He had felt her humming in their Communion, her tenacity a warm thing in the distance -- she was unknown by him, a figure he'd never met until that moment. Hearing her urge to do the right thing was, to him, both inspirational and foolish. But, he was a complex and conflict-ridden figure in his own way. And so, descending upon her with the intent to do her harm was the only thing he could think to do; one moment, he stood far from her, hovering in the alcove of the castle's outer wall, and the next, the ground itself broke below his feet as he lunged to close the gap between them. ]

-- we have not met face to face, but I know you through our Communion.

[ The brave one.

He lashes out at her, planting the flat of his shin across her ribs in an effort to punt her across the garden. Maybe, to truly hurt her. Even if they are both on the side of Meridian, it won't stop him. ]

[gravings]

[ Meanwhile, she has seen him before — if only in a shared memory, a vision of him tossing acolytes at the Church of Helios. She only gets a bare glimpse of him now before he reaches her, his red hair like fire in the cool backdrop of the castle. Gray's reinforced arm is a hasty shield, but it only dampens the blow to her side; her ribs give in a little more than they should before she's sent flying across the garden.

She bounces off a planter, probably damaging it irreparably, before she smashes into a brick partition that immediately collapses on top of her. Gray lays there for a moment, stunned, but adrenaline and magical strengthening keep the pain at bay. She stifles the shouting in her side and bursts from the rubble on high alert, not intent on getting caught lying down.

Beneath the grim set of her expression lies a healthy dose of confusion. She realizes that the overbearing presence she felt when she introduced herself to the Meris is the same as the one she feels before her now. In which case — aren't they on the same side? Is the red-haired man really that much of a berserker that he'd attack his own allies? ]

Why are you attacking me?!

[ She was timid when he heard her via Communion, but now with her life in potential danger, she's fierce as she challenges him. This is something she has more experience with than public speaking, by far. ]

[redsoil]

[ He whistles, low and syrupy-indulgent as she ricochets off of solid materials and still manages to come up able to talk. Brave girl, and sturdier than he'd expected. He has come to understand that many of the people drawn from their old, ruined worlds are gifted in different capacities -- durable, magical, some inhuman, some simply powerful, wise leaders and shrewd villains alike. One moment, he has thrown her, and the next, she has popped back up like a stubborn, washed-out little flower.

The question she asks him makes his expression fold in upon itself, lips pulling back to reveal the gleaming, prominent line of his fangs. Like some sort of animal, or a force of nature in the guise of a man, he sets his jaw and bares them at her. Infinitely exasperated by the question, but expecting it. Few understand him, and he understands even less. ]

You caught my attention.

[ He rasps the answer through the clench of his teeth, eyes locked upon her new display of ferocity -- enticed, clearly. He wants to see her bravery and how far it extends, maybe; and the ornate, silver trident in his hands flashes as he brings it to bear, lunging for her again. This time, with the thrust of the polearm guiding his way and extending his reach. ]

memory & desire - route b

[wolof]

Oh no, dear, I'm not getting in that even if it weren't so flooded.

[ She said, with a tone that broke no argument. She might look too posh for such things, but more than that, she was curious, when she'd come near, to see the god diving into the water. That he was now swimming back, and came bearing a victorious weapon, it was... Interesting.

She leaned forward, as if to inspect the item from a distance, the curiosity clear on her face. ]

The decay spreads far. I have attempted to examine it, but... everything I try to separate from the decay merely crumbles beneath my magic. I do not think any new finds would yield new results.

May I...ensure that your weapon is free of any lingering plague?

[ She would hate, if any had set in, and it spread to Set. ]

[redsoil]

[ Though he places the weapon within reach of one who is an ally in name, Akua's request to examine the trident is met with the narrowing of Set's brilliant eyes and the thinning of his mouth. He had examined it in comparison to the other items within the armory, electing not to touch anything aside from it -- for it did not harbor the blue, biting cold glow of the Blight. Akua asks to examine it, and he almost feels insult. ]

Do you think I am incapable of discerning that on my own?

[ Perhaps it is due to the cold, that his tone borders on snappish. Hauled from the water, he feels the cold in odd bursts and patches, curbed primarily from reaching him in extremes by his divine nature. He may be limited, reduced, but there is a mightiness to him, a fey hardiness. Even as he asks the scathing question, though, he hauls his form closer to Akua, curling towards her with his bare knees and wrists, the trident held aloft from the ground so that it does not scrape audibly as he guides it to her own hands.

Even though he snags at resistance, it is because he's a freaking tsundere. In the wake of his mean little question, he murmurs: Very well. At your leisure. Because. She's smart to check and he's smart to take advantage of her abilities. To learn of them. It is why he comes to ask: ] What sort of power is it that you have, Akua? It seems widely varied and easy to apply to multiple situations.

[wolof]

[ Akua only folded her arms in front of her, and waited, when he snapped. One had to have a certain...demeanor when dealing with Villains, and Akua had been raised among it her entire life. It's only once he neared, his tone softer, when he acquiesced, that she nodded. It was not an over-confident look, but that of an ally.

She reached out to take it, before she pulled her hands away, and the weapon hovered before her, and she stepped back. It does not quite glow, but there is the sensation of the weapon being illuminated in some way, and her eyes dart across it, before she took a hand and reached -- through it -- as if she were searching through the core of the item. ]

It is.

[ She said, her tone frank. ] My gift is a once-in-a-generation level of power. I am the one percent, of one percent, of one percent, and only one sorcerer is my equal in my land -- and he just became a god.

[ Or should have, she hoped, if the Ealamael had not obliterated everything that lingered in Keter. ]

Trismegisteran sorcery is an exact form of magic, that uses the energy of the world around it, High Arcana, and complicated workings to manipulate the world around us. The only magic I do not have is that of portals to other worlds, and my ability to summon demons and devils.

I am afraid that this world has none to summon, and no place to summon from.

[ Her hands now moved within, fingers dipping both at the surface -- and within it -- as if she were picking at the core of it, and feeling about. ]

[redsoil]

Oh?

[ A sorcerer? A god? By the way Akua speaks of him, Set assumes he is to believe that this man was some manner of mortal who gained enough power to ascend to divinity. Goodness, some pantheons just let anybody through the door, didn't they? Only those of divine lineage were capable of such things among his family, in Set's experience; even Akua, who he did not doubt the might of, would never have had an ascendency ceremony to welcome her into the realm of the Ennead. No one born of mortal flesh would have the ability to hone a perfect mind or body, and thus could never conceptualize what it meant to be a literal force of nature.

At least, he is not rudely exposing these experiences to her. There are different lands after all, let alone different worlds, and he has always had a heart that sought out new experiences, new ways of being, new sights and knowledge. He knows that the Ennead does things one way, and that Akua's realm does it another. It is simple to conclude that all things are possible, and for him to hunger for more information -- more, that he can tuck away for another time.

He folds his hands against the ground, observing the way she plucks at the body of the trident - examining it with her abilities, utilizing her skill and knowledge. The red of his eyes betrays so much of that hunger in him, raking over the pretty arch of her wrists and palms, unblinkingly fixated upon her motions. He wants to see into the core of her, peel her open and find what power she speaks of. ]

Had you not been drawn into this conflict, would you have become a god, Akua?

[ Was it pure strength, or ambition, that would have pushed her to that rich, divine edge? ]

And what you are doing now, to the trident -- what is it? Do you only perform such feats on inanimate objects, or does it apply to living things, as well? Is it taxing, to use your skills? Do you tire, do you require particular nourishment to recharge?

[ The questions are feverish. Fiery and focused, rattled off ravenously. ]