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Entry tags:
- ! mod event,
- arknights: shalem,
- bleach: grimmjow jaegerjaquez,
- bleach: jugram haschwalth,
- danganronpa: fukawa toko,
- encanto: bruno madrigal,
- ennead: set,
- fe3h: claude von riegan,
- fe3h: felix hugo fraldarius,
- ffvii: vincent valentine,
- genshin impact: tartaglia (childe),
- genshin impact: the traveler (lumine),
- hades: zagreus,
- htwmho: rudbeckia de borgia,
- jjk: fushiguro megumi,
- jjk: itadori yuuji,
- naruto: uchiha sasuke,
- orv: han sooyoung,
- orv: jung heewon,
- shadow and bone: the darkling,
- stranger things: steve harrington,
- the last of us: joel miller,
- vld: keith
(no subject)
I. PUSHING UP DAISIES
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
III. TO THE RESCUE
cw: depiction of hanahaki, mention of blood, mild body horror
The Frightful Harvest ended on a bloody, eerie note, but the Respite's most welcome interlude has proven exceptionally fruitful. The sky's darkened again, moons struggling to glow through turbulent clouds, but crops all over Stygia have grown dense and healthy, herbs and plants and flowers aplenty. Normally, it'd be a time to rejoice, even as sleet pours and winds grow bitterly cold -- and it might have been, had greens and stems and petals NOT elected to blossom inside you. Your lungs, specifically.
It's an uncommon side effect of the Harvest, affecting those who foster affection or attraction towards another, triggered only by a stray thought. Almost as if punished by Oblivium for harboring any kind of positive feelings. The worst part is that the object of your desire doesn't even have to be in the Netherworld for you to be afflicted. Over the span of three months, you'll gradually experience various degrees of the "harvest's curse", depending on the source of your feelings:
► PHYSICAL/EMOTIONAL ATTRACTION & REQUITED LOVE
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
It starts with an itch. Your throat tickles, an odd sensation in your lungs, slightly constricted. Allergies? Not quite. It worsens overtime, and days pass by, perhaps weeks. You cough, a little more every day, a little deeper, and then it happens: petals, stuck to your lips as you wheeze and try to empty your chest. Marigold, carnations, daisies, peonies... Thankfully, for you, it's more of an annoyance, sporadic at best and leaving you exhausted at times, but you're in no immediate danger. Unfortunately, not all Restless share the same luck.
► UNREQUITED LOVE
It doesn't matter whether it is truly unrequited; as long as you think it is, whether you're fully convinced or distantly resigned, you get the whole package. It starts the same way the lesser variation does, gradual, and with unsavory (!) additions: lilies and dark red roses. The first slowly spreads its poison in your body, inducing fevers, skin rashes, blistering in your mouth and stomach aches. The second pricks your throat bloody, making speech difficult and breathing even more so. It spreads throughout Stygia, and if most wound up meeting their end in the past, some speak of a highly hypothetical cure. It's believed that if the object of your affection confesses equally strong feelings for you, the curse should rapidly subside. If this option isn't viable, Doran promises that all Healers in Hale are working extremely hard to find a solution. In the meantime, symptoms can be partially soothed with poultices and spells that you can find in the Marketplace or in Serene. Some merchants might even take pity on you and offer them for free.
if your character has heard of similar diseases in their home world, they're absolutely welcome to share their insight on the netherwork or anywhere else
the evolution of the disease can be as gradual, as fast or as severe as you wish it to be
a mini quest to retrieve ingredients for a cure will be available in december or january
by february, all characters should be cured
II. DO NOT PASS GO
cw: mention of blood, torture, branding, violence, forced captivity
Full-swing investigations concerning the Harvest's murders have begun, though the mysterious rider has yet to resurface. The day is young still, but no matter; the Hierarchy firmly believes that the creature was summoned by a group of renegades, fully intent on finding and dismembering the organization. Perhaps even literally.
If you've spilled blood not your own in the previous event, the Hierarchy finds you. Do they know? It doesn't really matter; they've targeted you for reasons they won't divulge, persuaded of your involvement -- and off to the Gallows you go. Each of you receives the same greeting when you arrive, held down by rough hands and branded upon the arm with the letter F. The mark signifies ‘forsaken’, and the painful scar is indelible proof that each of you has betrayed the Hierarchy's hospitality. Writhe and scream and glower as much as you want; next thing you know, something heavy hits you across the head, and you collapse.
When your vision slowly creeps back, your eyes adjust to a dimly lit stone cell. Your feet are secured by iron cuffs tethered by one long chain, and you lie in nothing but filthy, tattered rags. It's dark; the air is bloated and filled with agonizing shrieks. Dead vines scrap the walls of half-crumbled buildings, weather-worn stone pillars surrounded by withered clumps of grass. You may converse with your cellmates: the guards patrolling the Gallows couldn't care less, convinced that no one could possibly escape anyway.
► Ironically, a magical barrier around the Gallows prevents magical/spiritual abilities from functioning. However, characters who roam free still can absolutely sneak in! Be careful not to get caught, though!
► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
Luckily for you, there are so many prisoners it's a difficult task for the Hierarchy to always keep track of all of them. Your brand, however, is a dead giveaway, so you might as well try and find a way to get rid of it; you might hear through the grapevines that the dead skin of Badaliscus can be used as bandages, and overtime, the brand will fully heal and disappear.► Loud disagreements might attract unwanted attention. A single guard will come, and if he finds nothing else amiss, will threaten them to be quiet. A second violation earns the offender a rap on their bare feet with a club. A third violation will cause the offender to be gagged. Note that in order to beat or gag the offender, the guard must first open the cell.
► If you share affinities with Gargoyles, incapacitating a guard in any way will draw the attention of one. It'll show you to the gates where you'll be able to escape, taking care of sentries on your way. You should probably keep a low-profile from then on, and avoid showing-off your brand.
► A secret passage may be found through a mausoleum nearby; an arrow of flaking red paint marks the entrance. Or is it blood? Inside, it's nearly pitch-black. Perhaps, if you're lucky, your vision extends as far as 30 feet in front of you, but occasionally, the darkness is broken by clinging phosphorescent fungi or crawling luminescent creatures, and from out of the silence echo sounds of dripping water. You're underground, and Abysmals can be encountered here if you're too loud. You should also watch out for cave-ins, but as you get farther away from the general region of the Gallows, your magical abilities gradually come back.
► Eventually, a long, broken staircase will lead you to Hale. If you're injured, you'll be sent to the main infirmary; characters with healing abilities or knowledge are super welcome to help!
III. TO THE RESCUE
As you attempt to escape, or perhaps once you’ve successfully snuck in, you come across a terrifying spectacle: in front of you, impaled through the shoulder by a spear, a weary humanoid figure covered in blood. The body is being restrained by additional shackles on each arm and leg, which are linked to chains anchored within the walls. There's a guard nearby, armed to the teeth… and still you decide to free them.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
The guard’s magic is just as useless as yours, and while impressive in size, dexterity definitely isn’t his main strength. He hits hard — with brass knuckles, a chain mace, and a sturdy shield — and his stamina almost seems endless, but it’s not. Keep evading, and he’ll eventually tire enough to topple over. It’s also possible to have him chase you around if you don’t go too far, which would allow someone else to grab the spear. Once he’s too exhausted to go on, you can either kill him or chain him to the wall. The keys are in his boots, and you’ll find a bottle of water as well as a small vial of ointment in a satchel on the ground, where he previously stood.
The prisoner is a young man, perhaps in his mid-20s. Once freed from his shackles, he immediately keels over, though he’s not unconscious. He thanks you with a deep and raw voice, begging for water. You can tend to his wounds if you’re able—the ointment quickly soothes—and when he finally stands again, he asks you a question: “I’m a stranger to you, and you could have died. Yet, you chose to free me, unaware of my past. Of my crimes. Of my virtues. Why?”
Regardless of your answer, he smiles, a private understanding that turns the stretch of his lips enigmatic. There’s a bubbling chuckle in his throat, very hoarse, and then he hisses, touching where you’ve helped him apply the ointment on his body. “You know what they say. If it stings...” He looks at you, deliberately pausing there and staring bold into your eyes. “... then it must be working.”
It might feel like there’s more to what he’s trying to say, though it’s pointless to ask: he bows, and then he slowly inches away from you. “Until we meet again.” White and thick tendrils of smoke envelop him, seemingly coming out of nowhere, and then just like that, he’s gone.
so you’ve chosen to free him, which in turn has generated a future plot point that’ll occur some time in february. some of you WILL see him again.
what he says to you is a clue.
you can answer his question OOCly right here. it’ll have some bearing on the way your character will be approached re: future plot point.
if you've voted no and would still like to participate, you could always allow your character to be convinced or reluctantly dragged by another!
ooc note
► As always, check out the Notice Board if you'd like additional prompts! Older quests from previous months are always available as well. You'll also find the Calendar right here.
► You'll find already answered questions just here, and if you'd like to ask new ones, ask them here!
► For fun's sake and similarly to the puck adventure, you may play it out in different groups or on your own, and still obtain the same results as everyone else whether your characters threaded together!
CLOSED ➣ for grimmjow
It's the same blinded feeling from before, but much worse: he knows by now that his ability to sense reiatsu comes and goes in its usual strength, but here, even further away from the prison's holding cells, he can detect absolutely nothing. There's no way to tell where the guards are, no way to tell where Kurosaki is (though he's hardly a threat, even with his abilities, he can't shake the sense he needs to keep an eye on his whereabouts and activities.) It's a strange glimpse into what it would be like existing as a human for someone who has no interest in knowing.
Jugram listens carefully as he moves: to the hushed voices, the dripping of condensation or groundwater from the ceiling, the faint scuff of footsteps on the damp cement floor. His head still throbs from the initial blow, or what he suspects to be one or two more after that: it'd take a lot more force to knock out most beings with a spiritual body, himself included. Maybe he has a concussion—probably. He probably has a concussion.
He doesn't get any further with the thought before a hard strike hits the small of his back from directly behind, entirely eclipsed within the new blind spot. Jugram falls forward and turns as he does, landing the brunt of the fall on the bony prominence of an elbow to at least give him the chance to see and kick out at the attacker before he can shove himself upright despite the pain of the impact—
And it's not a guard but that Arrancar that killed Askin. ]
Get out of the way. The guards will find us if we fight here.
no subject
but how could he resist the universe practically handing him such a prime opportunity to cross the one responsible for the apparent takedown of both hueco mundo and harribel off of his list? he would be nothing short of a fool if he passed the chance up.
sure, he had decided that he would observe the quincy first before he made any moves against him. ichigo wasn't clear on his capabilities and, as reckless as grimmjow could be, his survival instincts predominate. but that was kinda back when none of them were held captive in a place that restricted access to their powers.
he might not be able to beat him in a fight where reiatsu took centerstage, but when it comes to raw physical fighting prowess, he was confident that he could easily finish him off. call it self-confidence or ego — grimmjow was willing to make the bet.
he ignores the warning directed at him, staring down at the blond with an unfettered grin. )
Don't worry, quincy. ( he lifts his leg, aiming to stamp down hard against his gut. ) I'll make this quick.
no subject
Like His Majesty's army conquered Hueco Mundo?
[ His eyes narrow as he speaks, his voice rough for lack of water but edged with cruelty. He's at least upright; if Grimmjow wants to strike at him, he has a better chance of blocking—Jugram doesn't particularly intend to get into it here, without any weapon. He's taller by a few inches and LtCdr. Hubert had taught him to throw punches a few centuries ago, right when he'd first arrived, but this isn't how he's used to fighting and he knows Grimmjow knows that. ]
Only a coward or an animal attacks from behind. [ A cough. ] I suppose that's fitting.
no subject
grimmjow lets out a derisive snort, ignoring the prickle of annoyance he feels at hearing hueco mundo come outta his mouth. blue eyes narrow down at him, dissatisfaction reflected behind his gaze as he waits for retaliation that never comes. he might be intent on killing him, but it brings him no pleasure in eliminating an enemy that won't defend himself. it makes him wonder if that's his game — to stall and negotiate rather than to fight.
it's smart, if the one jugram was facing isn't him. )
I would only offer a prey that amount of courtesy. ( he isn't a coward but he is an animal. a savage one at that. ) But you're nothing more than a pest. Now, ( he curls his index finger, beckoning him. ) stand up, quincy, and let me squash you like a bug.
no subject
I see. You must think something will change if you defeat me. So much so that you're willing to risk your own escape—or could it be that you know I'll kill you once we leave the constraints of this place?
[ He doesn't strike first, despite the goading—it'll be more advantageous to let him attempt a blow and deflect it. ]
no subject
( he doesn't plan to let him leave here alive because he's right. even if jugram plans to leave ichigo alone, grimmjow can't guarantee that he won't come after him. the history between quincies and arrancars are one painted with strokes of blood. he has no intention of losing his life to one.
kurosaki might have said that the blood war didn't need to follow him here and grimmjow even agreed to leave jugram alone until they found out more about his abilities, but he never saw him as any less than a threat that must be eliminated sooner or later. why not just take care of him now? )
Enough talk.
( and so, he does strike first. unfortunately, the ensuing battle doesn't last long because, as jugram predicted, the guards do arrive. lucky bastard. )
no subject
He strongly considers running and letting both of them drag the arrancar back, hopefully to euthanize him like the wild animal he is, but between here and the cell he woke up in Jugram lost the truncheon he got off of the guard himself and Kurosaki shackled, and it would benefit him to replace it.
His jaw aches on the side it was hit, and the coppery taste of blood intermittently seeps into his mouth, but he's still upright and largely unharmed—even without blut, a quincy's body can withstand a lot more than a human's. He pulls one of the two from the arrancar who was a moment prior striking him out of self interest alone—it isn't difficult to beat him into submission enough to wrest the club from his hand and deliver a single hard strike against the back of the head, more forceful than the one that left him unconscious. If it cracks the man's skull, if he dies, so be it. His life doesn't matter, in the grander scheme of things. ]
no subject
after all, grimmjow would have done the same. it's a foolish endeavor to assist someone who's intent on murdering you mere moments ago, but he surmises the only reason why the quincy has made this choice is because he doesn't believe that he can make it out without added strength — his strength.
since it has come to this, his best option is to prioritize escaping first before he deals with the quincy issue.
it most likely won't bode well for him once jugrum has access to his powers once more, but that's a problem for future grimmjow to workaround.
although he had promised ichigo that he won't take a restless' life, he might've made a couple of exceptions ever since he got his ass forcibly dragged to the gallows. his survival came first, no matter what. whether the boy understands or not is an argument for later.
he doesn't hesitate in killing the other guard. there isn't a fucking chance that he's gonna get thrown back into a cell, not even if he has to leave a strewn of bodies in his wake. sprinting down the dark corridor, he doesn't check on the blond until he sees a stream of light up ahead. )
Consider yourself lucky today, quincy. You would've been dead otherwise.
no subject
It's the closest thing to a petty strike Jugram is perhaps capable of; it does serve some purpose, as the arrancar falling behind and doubling over will slow down any additional guards that might turn the corner by giving them a new target. It's satisfying, though, a rare sentiment in the cool calculations of battle. Is that this shadow he's heard mentioned? He's not sure. He'll think about it later.
Right now what matters is reaching that light.
He doesn't look behind him until he's made it out of the tunnel and onto the dim, damp slate street of the outside world—still underground, a quick glance upwards confirms. Maybe this is Hale, which he's heard mentioned but hasn't had any occasion to visit. People limp toward cots, some leaning on others, while the able-bodied splint and bandage wounds and broken bones. He wonders, behind the ongoing headache, whether it's the same Hierarchy responsible for this apparent aid station, which seems highly organized.
No matter. He finds a place to stand and watches the opening to the tunnel, periodically dabbing the bleeding cut on his lower lip with the back of his wrist, waiting for the chance to use his schrift—in all likelihood, the recipient of his misfortune will need to be outside of whatever barrier their captors erected to prevent the use of such abilities. ]