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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
It's the darkest part of the night when he makes his move too, sticking to the shadows and the fringes of the area, moving with some of the others until he breaks off to do one last sweep around the area. He thinks he hears someone or something out there, and decides to duck into a quiet, seemingly abandoned house for cover until the noise passes.
(And while he's here, he might as well scavenge for supplies, or weapons, or something to help him the rest of the trek back to the Harbours.)
He's coming out through the back door with what looks like a broken chair-leg in both hands, into the yard where a line of laundry is still hanging when — ]
Jesus Christ! [ He's dead and he still feels like his heart might explode out of his chest. ] It's you! [ A gasp of breath. Two. Three. ] Of course it's you, of course you're gonna be here too.
[ And then he makes a move to head past the rickety old fencing, now with less heart-pounding and more urgency to get a move on. ]
Please tell me you don't live here or something. We've gotta get out now while we still have the chance.
no subject
She's got no idea who he is.]
Wh-what? [Her whole face rumples, shucking shock for a curl in the lip and a wrinkled nose. She's not not afraid, tensions are still running high and this guy is armed. But the way he flits about and bounces ideas off of her, that he uses "we" when proposing escape? It's derailing half her fright in favour of a resounding "What the fuck?"] No! N-no, I don't live here! Who the h-hell are you?!
[And why does his face stir something in her chest? It's giving her the worst sense of deja vu. Fukawa scowls, backing against the wooden siding and tracking his every move.]
I'm not going anywhere with you...you c-can't make me!
no subject
[ If Steve notices any difference between this girl and the more psychotic one he's used to, he certainly isn't saying anything about it. Each time they'd spoken, tensions had been high and every situation called for a whole other level of panic and anxiety that became their baseline. Panic clouds Steve's mind now, and while he might think on this moment later and slap at his forehead for missing such obvious cues, all he can think about at this very second is putting a crazy amount of distance between him and the Gallows.
He needs to head back 'home'. ]
Look, in case you didn't notice, we're in freakin' enemy territory here! [ He waves a quick hand around them to demonstrate the severity of their situation. It's dire, dude. ] Any moment now one of those guards is gonna catch wind of us here and put us both in cells. And I don't know about you but after this break-out, they're probably beefing security up as we speak and that means it'll probably be like, impossible to escape.
So, come on!
no subject
[Her head is shaking no and she's wedging herself against that wall like she means to meld with the wood. He has a point, several of them in fact. She doesn't want to get caught again, this is true, and time is of the essence. However?]
Who the — you...who are you, dammit?!
[Her hands fly out, giving a furious waggle in his direction. It's a harried edition of the "what's your problem" gesture.]
I've never s-seen you in my life, and you're running out here saying stuff like, "of course" I'm here? [She scoffs furiously, sliding along the wooden slats to put more distance between them. Get out of batting range, in case he comes to his sense and gives her a whack.] D-don't act so familiar with a complete stranger! Like I'd r-run off with anyone who ordered me to!
no subject
Now's really not the time for your super weird jokes.
[ And when it looks like she really isn't willing to relent, he sighs. ]
Fine. If you want to stay here, be my guest. I know you're more than capable of taking care of whatever it is you need to take care of. You saved me more than once. [ Proved that she was actually kind of scarily badass the last couple of times they'd been banded together for some life or death situation or another.
He flaps a hand at her too so they look like a couple of overly animated caricatures. ] Is that what you wanna hear?
no subject
[Any further protest hits a brick wall as he makes his closing remarks. There's a stone in her gut suddenly, sinking ever so slowly to the bottoms of her feet.]
S-saved you? [There is a beat. He looks so familiar and so strange at once. Something about his gestures, the way his face moves when he talks.
And he's not scared of her?]
Was I...acting all c-crazy? With my tongue hanging out? [She winces. Digs her fingers into stringy hair and groans.] Nevermind! I already — ugh, do you even have ears? C-can't you tell we're not the same person?
[For crying out loud. She can't believe she has to introduce herself second. And what's with this crap about saving him?]
We have a sp-split personality. Okay? That girl is just a shitty side-effect of it. [She shoots him a heated glare.] And don't you dare say that's ridiculous! I kn-know how it sounds! And I don't want to hear it!
no subject
[ Hol'uphol'uphol'up, is he hearing her right? He pauses mid-flap to let his hand drop back to his side and considers that while their time is limited, this is probably an important enough detail they should figure out before he goes traipsing back into town with the wrong girl. Or the right girl. Or the ... both?
So, yeah. He stops to really study her, and now that he thinks about it ... the craziness is still there but it's totally a different kind of crazy. No tongue hanging out, that's for sure, and there's a strange twitchiness to the girl standing before him that he absolutely didn't see in the other one. Also scissors. There is a lack of scissors. And a lack of name-calling too, now that he thinks about it. ]
Split personality, huh? [ For a guy who comes from deep in the 80s, he is surprisingly calm; surprisingly blase about the whole thing. He knows split personalities are a thing, usually depicted in bad horror movies and when someone wants to be extra rude about someone else the way girls do in high school, but instead of calling it ridiculous, he only has questions. ] Okay, so how does the other one come out?
[ Not that he prefers her or anything, but. You know. She was kind of kickass, and they'd probably be moving right now if she were here. ]
no subject
You sure b-bought that easily.
[She's come to expect a certain excess of incredulity. She can't decide if this makes him more or less suspicious. Her next words come slow and wary.]
S-sometimes if I faint, or sneeze, or if I h-had my taser — wait, are you going to try m-making me swap?!
[J'ACCUSE. Out comes the Ace Attorney pointer finger.]
D-Don't you even think about it! I'll scratch your eyes out! It's her fault I got l-locked up in the first place!
[Speaking of which, there's a sound from off in the woods. Fukawa freezes up, mouth clamped shut. Her eyes go as wide as dinner plates.
Seconds tick by. Nothing happens. She swallows thickly and changes her tune at last.]
...We n-need to get out of here.
no subject
[ Jesus Christ.
The hairs on the back of his neck are standing up, and he swears he can feel a set of eyes on them right now, watching for their next move and hoping it'll be a solid fuck-up for easy prey.
He is not going to be easy prey today or any other day. He's got a dumbass soulmate to find, and he realizes now he's determined to find a way out of this place. Like, this whole place, not just the gallows. ]
Look. Between you and her, which one of you is more likely to go down fighting? Because that's the person I need right now. We are so not going back to that place to be locked up, okay?
Close it off here?
[The bite with which she says it carries the finality of a slap. She's done. She's had it with that wretch, she's had it with taking lumps for crimes she never wanted to commit. She doesn't want to rely on Syo any more. All she wants is to run home, curl up behind a blanket, and never speak to another soul again.
She'll be lucky if she has a home to get back to, should they make it out of this place alive. Syo has a knack for making all good things go sour.]
I c-can run just fine, thanks. [She peels off the wall, scowling, keeping her distance from this strange and stupid boy.] Y-you should be more careful who you hang out with. If you're dumb enough to latch onto her, you'll t-take in just about anyone.
[With that said, Fukawa starts off. It's more than time to get going, and she doesn't care if he tags along.]