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INHUMAN COURTESY

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:

► 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.

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.

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.

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!

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Do I seem the sort to attack someone indiscriminately? [ he asks if he has zero awareness to how he’s made himself appear thus far. but, regardless of that, there is a hint of humor to his voice. as if this situation were amusing to him somehow. or maybe he just liked the idea of making some sort of impression with the man before him.

but, with that said&midas; ] But, what about you? Can I trust you to do the same? [ he speaks as if it’s a given that he would be without remorse. but, he supposed if either of them were the sort to feel that, they probably wouldn’t be here wielding a dagger and axe.

regardless, he feels asking in tune fits, especially as it carries on a more teasing edge. look, judgement tended to go both ways. in reality, he assesses that claude must be comfortable enough with the concept if the weapon he selected was an axe. it’s a bold choice if he had to say. ]

[ Claude doesn't get a chance to answer, because as discreet as they're being, they can't evade the attention of the guards forever. Eventually, someone takes notice of them, and they have little choice but to jump to their feet when the pointed ends of a row of spears come charging in their direction.

Evidently, the guards have no such qualms about attacking indiscriminately.

Claude holds his own just fine for the most part, though close combat is not his speciality. He breaks the shaft of the spears with his axe, slicing through the guards' necks with it once he's disarmed them.

Either in the midst of battle or after it, he realizes something, ] Wait a second, what are you doing here anyway?

[ He just found Callisto crouching in a corner, was he here for fun? ]

[ being attacked is obviously grounds for equal retaliation. them being armed only doubles that concern. to be honest, as much as he believes in the other man's comfort with the axe, he doesn't deny the stray bit of his attention that flickers to his movements. it's ill-timed, however as he barely evades one of the guards blades his way. with that, he takes the temporary pain of the spear that nicks him and uses it as a way to close in close, taking the guards arm and stabbing them in the throat. if he didn't already look crazy, he looks no better covered in blood as he cuts the jugular clean.

blood loss was probably a horribly way to die, he thinks idly, but doesn't stop to ponder on it despite that. this time, he's already pressing forward, as if he were hungry for more, only pausing at claude's words, which come at great timing as his initial adrenaline settles: ] Whim? [ it's not a complete lie, but his words probably don't really detract from the bloodthirsty image he's put out thus far. but it's not a complete lie. he figured this was a start of something. more answers, a fresh perspective, a bit of chaos... ]

You're here to rescue someone special? [ he doesn't actually know, but he likes to pretend he does. ]

[ Callisto certainly does have a different method than Claude. In general, Claude prefers to keep his distance from the heat of battle, picking off his enemies with his arrows from above the battlefield while on his wyvern. He's not bothered by the gore and stench of war, but he doesn't enjoy it either, always bothered when he leaves the battlefield with blood soaked through his clothes to his skin.

They clear the immediate danger, but Claude doesn't doubt that more is on the way—their fight hadn't been silent.

He frowns at Callisto, ] Is that a cute way of asking if I'm single?

[ With all the blood that Callisto didn't shy away from, it's hard to tell whether or not he'd gotten injured in the fight. Still, his eyes zero in where his clothes are torn and dyed red. ]

Do you often risk bodily harm on a whim?

[ maybe their differences worked out. at least in the sense that callisto was far more accustomed to close quarters skirmishes; more accustomed to seeing the life drain from someone's eyes directly. not that he necessarily preferred it, but when life gives you lemons... or corpses, i guess. ]

From your axe swinging alone, I got the impression you were quite the romantic. [ obviously, what else would be the epitome of romance? or so he's keen on getting the last word, at least. but, while not explicitly spoken, it's clear he does seen to appreciate anyone who is able to keep their humor in a situation like this.

at the very least, it spoke to their character. but, with that said, his eyes seem to focus over to the next clearing. he thinks he hears footsteps, but he's glad... that he's wrong because obviously he needs to torture claude with more conversation. ] Wise men claim that there are no rewards without the appropriate risk.

[ He lifts a brow at the answer. Callisto is hard to read, which Claude doesn't particularly enjoy. Anything where he can pick away at the pieces to find the underlying logic usually irritates him, and this is no exception. ]

True enough, but that's no reason to embrace risk and hope for a reward to be on the other end.

[ Maybe Callisto just doesn't want to say why he's here, or maybe he's just here to hone his battle skills. Claude honestly can't tell.

For now, he just points to the wound at his side. ]

You should dress that, in any case.

[ opposite to claude, callisto seems to enjoy their back and forth. something oddly refreshing to it. then again, he doubted many back where he was from would try and press their luck against a man with the title "the crown prince of iron and blood"— which he realizes now was a bit of distasteful title, but all the same. ]

When we've already experienced death once, what's the issue in experiencing it once more? [ except, even if he jests, he clearly doesn't want to die again. if the first time even truly counted as precisely that.

still, even with the wound beginning to permeate his clothes, he doesn't seem to wince or bring further attention to it. ] Is that concern I hear? I'm touched. Here I thought you weren't very fond of me. [ because annoying someone is always his pick... even in a situation as bleak as this one. ]

[ Is this how people feel when they're dealing with him? Hilda would often call him annoying (and Shez too! the traitor), but Claude thinks of himself as someone fairly reasonable and level-headed. In any case, it doesn't really matter to him if Callisto goes off and spends the rest of his journey with his intensities hanging from his body. He just thinks it would be stupid.

He gestures to their bleak surroundings. ]

It'd be a shame if you perished here when it's so rare that someone hits on me in such unsavoury circumstances.

[ He crouches down by one of the fallen bodies at their feet, grabbing their clothes and ripping the clean fabric into long strips. ]

Here. Use this to patch yourself up.

[ maybe this should be a lesson to claude... there probably is something both of them could gleam from their exchange, but regardless, it looks like neither of them will come out of this any the wiser. or maybe callisto will if simply because it looks like he's being forced to address his own recklessness.

his body tended to heal fairly quickly. at least, comparatively. granted, it's been through a lot, so he simply could just be used to the fact. that said, he releases something of an exhale when claude offers those ripped garments to him. ] Who are you claiming is courting who? [ temporarily, he puts his dagger away. gripping at the the bottom of his shirt, he lifts it just a bit before looking at claude. ]

Don't you think you should take responsibility for your worries and help?

[ This is a weird space to be in, with Callisto showing off his bloody wound like the world's worst mating call. ]

I didn't want you to get the wrong idea, I'm just being a good samaritan here. [ Still, he sighs, tossing his axe at the ground so that the blade digs into the ground, and moving closer so that he can help dress the wound. ] But since I'm apparently dealing with a spoiled prince...

[ Actually, he doesn't think Callisto is being spoiled at all. It's pretty reason to ask for help while bleeding out, and having a second pair of hands does make it easier for Claude to wipe away some of the blood, and clean the area before padding and wrapping the strips of fabric around the hole. ]

That won't stop the bleeding entirely. You shouldn't aggravate it more than you need to.

[ Again, he has no idea why Callisto is here. ]

[ the judgement of why he is here aside, he does appreciate the assistance. with all that's transpired so far, while claude didn't strike him as someone to cold-heartedly abandon him the second he was wounded, well, you never know. so despite his own words, there is some implicit respect in the camaraderie displayed.

but, the commentary? unnecessary. ] If this is what you call spoiled, I'd hate to see how you treat your wounded lover. [ assuming the person does truly exist in this prison somewhere. belatedly, he is beginning to have his doubts.

he feels the blood being wiped away and the sensation of cloth against his wound is admittedly not a pleasant one. there's just barely a hint of a wince, before he pulls his shirt back down. satisfied with the feel, he continues: ]

As long as it isn't poisoned, I think I'll live. [ which he shouldn't joke about knowing his luck, but he decides to stick with these words regardless. with that, he reaches down, picking up claude's axe to hand it over to him. ]

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