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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!
no subject
still, he catches that it's not the device that makes these. it's something else—and everything about the process is complicated. he frowns.]
So a "film" is a recorded play, but it's not all recorded at once, but in parts.
[that... honestly...]
Sounds annoying. Why go through all the trouble?
no subject
[She points to the screen, where the elder brother apologizes about being to sick to take the younger out.] With th-this level of detail, you can utilize an actor's expression m-much more effectively than on stage. And you can tell more complicated stories, with different tricks to p-pull off special effects, or imply mood, the p-passage of time.
[The small boy is off and away, cute as a button in a yellow rain slicker, chasing his paper boat through the storm runoff.]
And you c-can film m-movement like this alongside the character, through the scene. It's especially effective in fight scenes, or dance sequences.
[She pauses.]
Also, movies make a t-ton of money.
no subject
but one thing does catch his attention. he waves away her last comment, somehow bothered she even brought it up.]
I don't care about how much money these things make.
What do you mean by fight sequences?
no subject
Yes! Yes, I agree wholeheartedly! The c-commodification of the arts into shallow, m-mass-produced cash grabs is an insult to the art of storytelling itself!
[The point--->
Her head --->
She might expand on fight sequences more robustly, but now she's getting distracted. The boy's boat has fallen down the drain and he runs shouting after it, drops to his knees and peers inside.
Then a pair of eyes flash in the sewer.
Fukawa jolts.]
Oh. Um. F-fight scenes, as in...
[Wait wait wait. This is starting to feel familiar.
"Hiya Georgie."
After all, what writer worth their salt hasn't heard of Stephen King?
"Would you like a balloon?"]
NO! T-turn it off! Turn it off! [Fukawa reaches for his device with frantic fingers.] I don't want to watch this anymore!
no subject
Fine, alright. [he's even unplugging the stick] Here.
[what in the world was that about?]
no subject
[It comes out in one breathless tumble. She presses her hands to her face. Deep breaths. Crisis averted.]
I just r-remembered. That kid was about to die. I think his arm g-gets bitten off by a clown. [Fukawa shudders. Maybe leans a little closer to Felix for comfort...] I c-can't stand that stuff. Even if it's all fake, b-blood and guts make me sick.
no subject
You can't just pretend someone's arm is bitten off. How can you fake death?
[he leans away from her, completely reflexively, as she comes closer.]
Now I want to see. I'll turn it away from you, if you hate it that much.
no subject
[Now it's her turn to lean away.]
Wh-what? Why? It's not even real, it's nothing. D-don't bother! It's not worth your time. Just a ch-cheap thrill for small minds! [Please don't summon the sewer clown again. She reaches for his device, trying on a winsome smile.] There are b-better movies to watch. Come on, let's ask for something different!
no subject
If we watch something else, I want to see one of the fight scenes you mentioned.
[he's still interested in the gory stuff, because he wants to judge how real they make it look, but for now he'll be satisfied with some schlock.]
Especially if there's one with a sword duel.
no subject
Uh— [Her mind blanks. She has instantly forgotten every film she's ever seen.] W-well. Let's see what he has! Anything's g-got to be better than some creepy clown.
[She scurries over to the other room. Silence falls over the theatre. After a minute she returns looking rather put out.]
...He w-won't lend us anything else without money.
[Looks like it's Pennywise or nothing.]
no subject
sitting in the dark cinema alone? after a moment, he frowns, and is about to just stand up and walk out when she comes back—empty-handed.
clicking his tongue in irritation, he ends up standing up anyway.]
Fine. I'll pay.
But you better pick a good one.
[or else what? he's striding over to the lit doorway, already withdrawing a little pouch of money.]
no subject
[
your underwear.]no subject
[or clothes??? observing the prices posted, he counts out enough coins for a single rental, then shoos fukawa back into the library, and starts idly picking up titles of his own.
what is... "Cradle 2 the Grave"? an intriguing title, but why the number two?
he puts it back, and picks up another likely looking title. "Kung Fu Hustle".........
what's kung fu]
no subject
[Because he doesn't want her dirtying her hands for his sake! Oh, what a gentleman!
Still, she has to find a way to serve him correctly. For now it's to treat him to the best the marvel of cinema has to offer. What will he want in the future though? If she continues to fail him he's sure to look at other girls. Prettier, smarter, more buxom ones. All Fukawa has to offer is undying loyalty and servitude, but by god she will make it work.
She rustles through the titles, glancing at him sidelong as if to glean his taste from his posture, the way his silken hair cascades from the hair tie. Focus.
He wants something with a sword fight. He's Western (or some facsimile of it), but frankly she can't remember being impressed by any action film from that corner of the Earth. It's all guns and explosions, tacky bullshit and crappy one-liners. When there were sword fights it was just mindless metal clanging. Disgraceful.
No, that won't do. Some Wuxia perhaps? She flicks Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon off the shelf, followed by Hero, and then Seven Samurai and Yojimbo for something closer to home. Personally speaking the violence in old films would be easier to bear. The blood either looked fake, or was masked in black and white artistry.
She congeals at his side with all four in hand, huffing in anticipation.]
H-here...I've selected s-some of the b-best for you... [Swallow, please, no need to drool.] You c-can read the plot summaries on the back?
no subject
No.
[hero next]
Maybe.
[seven samurai...]
Yes.
[finally, yojimbo]
Maybe.
[he taps seven samurai, nodding.]
This one seems like it has the most potential for good sword fighting. [because there's seven of them.] I guess "samurai" is just their term for Myrmidons. How do we watch it? With the stick like the others?
no subject
Anyway his flawless math has pointed him at something she can moderately stomach, and is a staple on several Best Films of All Time lists. Acceptable. She smiles at him and sets the rejected titles on the counter.]
M-mirmydins? [What.] Samurai were warriors from my country. Japan. So...this is like sh-showing you a bit of my own history!
[Which he is very certainly interested in. Yes.]
Oh, th-this one needs a different machine. I'll take care of it. Go pick a seat! [With an eager pant (sorry) she sweeps a hand towards the theatre door.] I'll come join you, when it's r-ready.
no subject
Myrmidons. It's a physical combat class specializing in swords. [he looks at her like she's an absolute idiot for not knowing this?] If samurai are anything like that, I'm interested. [history whomst
anyway, he walks as soon as she gestures, brushing past her hand as he maneuvers in the narrow aisles. back to the seats, then. whatever. when she finally starts making her way back, he turns at the footsteps.]
How long is this one? A few minutes?
no subject
Anyway Fukawa comes back after setting things up with the manager and is duely startled by the question.]
What? No. [Looking at him a little weirdly even as she settles into her seat.] I t-told you, it's like a play. How many plays do you know that are three m-minutes long?
[The lights dim! Spooky! Also she's brought him popcorn and a bag of M&Ms and a bag of Sour Patch kids. And a water. And a soda. Please pick a flavour.]
W-would you like a snack? I can feed it to you, if you like...
no subject
until she's like. waving food in his face. not literally, but she's being weird enough that she might as well.]
What? No. Where did you even get all that from? [does she eat during plays???]
you don't have to tag this back okok we're moving on
Fukawa immediately retracts the tray and shakes her head.]
J-j-just the concession stand! It's customary to have snacks for a m-movie! I'm sorry! I'll—
[The lights dim. The screen lights up, and music begins to play.
Fukawa gasps and sets the tray aside, snugging into her seat.]
It's s-starting! I'll shut up! Just. Um. [She casts him a sidelong glance.] L-let me know if you get hungry...
[And thus their Akira Kurosawa date begins.]