The House Always Wins

[reddosmod]

MARCH 2023 EVENT

Due to the UNIQUE NATURE of the Moss King, previous March events are NOT available during this month's event. Please keep that in mind.

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: Fanged, smiling carnivorous plant from little shop of horrors ]
[Image Two: House overgrown by roots.]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Person covered in glistening film that seems to be suffocating.]
[Image Two: Woman's face splattered in blood. ]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Poker chip with an anime girl's face on it. ]
[Image Two: Dogs Gambling Painting, but it's famous horror monster villains instead of dogs. ]

[NAVIGATION]

Prompt 1 • Prompt 2 • Prompt 3 • Plotting • Newsletter

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

WHEN: March 8-31
WHERE: The City of Trench and surrounding regions
CONTENT WARNINGS: Plant-Based Peril, Isolation, Entrapment, Carnivorous Plants, possible but unlikely death.

---

The plentiful and bountiful harvest of plants that started to blossom towards the beginning of the month has continued, and if anything? It's getting more and more troublesome. The old saying goes that too much of a good thing is too much, and this is definitely the proof of that pudding. Plants are literally growing everywhere. Trenchies can be seen cutting branches out of impossible locations, and vegetation is beginning to grow inside of established businesses and homes. There is an ever increasing market for vileblood based defoliation options that are being offered by entrepreneurial Trenchies, but the fact that more than a few of those selling the stuff have gone missing under strange circumstances calls into question their efficacy.

For Sleepers, this means that the possibility of encountering enlarged and potentially dangerous plants such as those seen in the earliest parts of the months grows ever more real. A human-sized venus flytrap might very well try to snatch one up, with all of the peril that entails. However, while it is possible for any exotic plant to carry with it potentially lethal threat, most of these are able to be dealt with by even the untrained with a machete. The real problem is the root systems and the plants that ones that talk. The former are the most likely to be encountered. Root systems grow over entire buildings during the mid to late month, choking over light sources and blocking windows to dim houses. They clench their grip over doors, making getting out of one's house an act of willpower and muscle that may have to be repeaated over and over again. Worst of all is the fact that many of these root systems almost seem to be intentionally creating barriers around the Lantern Network! The little moaners are safe, but their sphere of protection becomes a dome of wood, shielding and keeping them away from those naughty sleepers trying to hack their way to a teleport.

The talking ones, though, are downright disturbing. They're not very large, at first they do indeed seem to whisper and beg to be fed. Naturally, only blood will do, and the longer that they're fed the larger and more dangerous that they can become. But, so long as one doesn't feed them, they're harmless, right? Wrong. True, they can bite and it's easy enough to avoid them. However, it's what they start to say when they're denied their food that becomes disturbing. “There is a consequence of your actions, you know.” “Do not think that you are immune.” “Saving the Moss Brat seems wise now, but have a long memory.” Things like that. The voices they take on are eerie, unnatural and do not match the plants' normal begging voices. They never clear up who is speaking or what they're speaking about, but surely it's not a big issue, right?

By the end of the month, the plants wither away and break off of the various homes and businesses, leaving no visible damage behind, as if whatever caused them has faded entirely.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

THE LEECH

WHEN: Second Half of March
WHERE: Anywhere in Trench, but not the Outpost.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Magically Cursed Ailment, Severe weakness, Anemia

---

You didn't think it would be that easy, did you? From the moment that the first talking plants appeared in Trench, there has been another ominous presence. Unbeknownst to the people of Trench, but the Moss King is recovering from Riteior's attack and, while they are safe and slowly getting back to their normal self, this has allowed for Riteior to offer a little payback in an effort to cause trouble to those seeking to stop his attacks on the Pthumerians of Trench. In the night, while characters are sleeping, the plants strike. They wake to find a thin film over them, but otherwise it appears harmless. The next full day, there's nothing wrong and they feel hail and hearty. In fact, those pesky little talking plants are gone from their house. Of course, the next day the horror begins to settle in.

Within 48 hours, Sleepers will find themselves weak and lethargic in the extreme. The condition is not fatal, but it is problematic and irritating. They will find that no amount of food, water and rest quite gets rid of the malaise that they are experiencing, a strange drowsiness and lack of energy plaguing their every moment. The longer it persists, the more dangerous it becomes. However, there appears to be no obvious cause, at least until they visit someone capable of treating their condition, be they a Blood Minister or trained physician. Victims of this curse appear to be suffering from a severe, but not life-threatening anemia. There is no obvious cause, but the Ministers are certain that it is not natural and is likely a result of a curse of some kind. They can offer stimulants and high energy food, which will help the person experiencing the condition, but the real danger comes if they try to use their blood for a blood ritual of any kind. The insidious reason becomes obvious. Someone is attempting to stop them from safely having enough blood to perform the rituals to seal them away!

Victims are “fine” in the sense that they could get through the month safely without risk of death and just be weaker. However, if they attempt any form of blood ritual or blood letting, they risk running out of blood, which would indeed be a life threatening concern. The only solution, then, is a blood transfusion of another type. The Blood Ministers are willing to provide blood from their banks, but caution that it is better if a fresh supply is used. Do you have a friend willing to lend a hand? Or, do you miss one of the deadlines this month for fighting back Riteior?

FAQ:

This condition strikes after the mid-month, when the latest batch of rituals further weakens Riteior, and ensures the Moss King's safety.

This condition is not life threatening, unless a person attempts to use blood for a ritual or other purpose without first receiving a transfusion.

If a person attempts to perform a blood ritual before getting a transfusion, their anemia can become life threatening very quickly.

It is possible to completely avoid this prompt by not being targeted by Riteior. His cursed targeting is not that precise and he is clearly becoming desperate.

When a transfusion is given, both participants will be lightly anemic for another 24 hours, but the condition will fade afterwards completely.

It is suspected strongly by some of the Blood Ministers and Arcane Scholars that this is a curse brought about by a brief moment of control over the Moss King by Riteior. This can be learned easily in conversation with members of the orders in Trench.

[JUMP TO TOP] • [JUMP TO COMMENTS]

HIGH STAKES

WHEN: Second Half of March
WHERE: Goat Turning in The Cellar Door
CONTENT WARNINGS: Gambling, Possible Coersion, lowered inhibitions, Risk of Character Death

---

The Moss King appears to be 'on the mend' by the latter part of the month, or at least he seems to be his usual self. A flyer advertising a special for all Sleepers and residents of Trench at the Goat Turning, his personal gambling hall, circulates throughout town. The doors of the Goat Turning will be open to absolutely everyone, and nobody will be turned away for an event that will last the last two weeks of the month! Anyone who comes will be given a complementary set of chips for free, along with a very special commemorative poker chip embossed with their own face on it which they are assured they can keep afterwards, assuming they don't lose it betting! In fact, that commemorative chip is the only way that a person can return to the Goat Turning during this period, and has to be shown to get admittance, though you don't need to bet it even if it appears to be worth quite a lot! Every night, a new allotment of chips is offered to gamblers. It isn't much, and if they're willing to trade a few goods to get more, they can supplement their stash. What could be more fun than a friendly game?

The drinks and food are free for those attending, and even better? They don't seem to have a lot of strange effects. The drinks seem to ease the symptoms of corruption, in fact, and make a person more relaxed and at ease, along with lessening their inhibitions. The food is filling and pleasant, but salty, making one crave the drinks more. But, honestly, compared to Generosity's botched and spoiled food in January it's almost heavenly, even if it does make it easier to want to keep gambling and gambling. After all, those prizes for the big winners of the night are certainly something to behold, and the kinds of luxuries that Trenchies drool over.

The Big Prizes: (Maximum 1 big prize per character for the month)

A Lunar Orb

A Vial of Pthumerian Blood that can leave a person feeling sickly and weak if they come in contact with it

A Genuine Lantern, enabling a second teleportation location to be placed!

A Blood Enchanted Weapon or Armor.

An Item from Home that a character might not normally find washing up on shore

The Lesser Prizes:
Players are encouraged to use their imagination on lesser prizes that could be won. Food. Supplies. Furnishings. Weapons. Tools. Clothing. Any number of valuable could be won throughout the month.

So, what's the catch? There's always a catch. Well, like any gambling hall, the saying goes that the House Always Wins. This isn't true universally. You could have a hot streak at the Craps table, or you might just win on your lucky number in Roulette. It is very possible to walk away with enough chips to win a big prize all in one night, or build up over time to claim such a lofty goal. But the trick is that commemorative chip. It's the admission, and it's also the only way you can leave the gambling den each night. The chip must be presented both at entry and leaving, and only then does the reality become clear. That chip is so valuable because it represents your life! You might literally be betting with your life here! Should you lose your chip and not have it at the end of the night, the impressive and powerful bouncers at the door will bar you from exit, and once the hall closes there is nowhere to go but the basement. Anyone who enters the basement after hours will find that their life is indeed forfeit, and their debt is called. They will die down below. How will they die? Well, considering the fighting pits down below, any of a thousand deaths, some more gruesome than others, are possible. And, if another player holds their chip, they will be given a special pass to remain below, to demand their price themselves.

So, if you lose your chip is it still possible to get it back? Absolutely! It is a gambling hall, after all. Someone just has to be willing to give it back, or to win it back from another player or the house. What could be simpler? Of course, because there are no compulsions in the commemorative chip, and no rules about how it is to be used or transferred other than that it must be won from the house in a fair game, it is almost as if the Moss King is testing his own guests to see just how far they will go, and what they will do if their life or the life of a friend is on the line.

FAQ:

Players are limited to one grand prize per character. Please record this prize on the prompt below.

Characters that die because of this event may die in any reasonable fashion in the basement. Tools are provided. This may be handwaved.

Because this event involves the potential of players bargaining for their lives and death, we remind players to be mindful and communicative with others regarding permissions and preferences during this event. Do not break permissions.

Lesser prizes can be won in quantity, but we ask that you be reasonable about this.

The Commemorative Chip is non-magical and there is no compulsion to gamble with it. It is simply worth a lot more.

The Event is not age restricted, so underage gambling is possible.

[JUMP TO TOP]

CODING

Comments

Luz Noceda | The Owl House

[imaglyphwitch]

The Leech

Luz had hoped there wouldn't be any pushback in the attempts she and her friends were making in doing the ritual up, and at first, she was assuaged when nothing happened last month. This month started dicey, what with the plants strange arrival and their creepy words, but Luz made sure to do some pruning and meet a few people who would help, and by the end of the week, things seemed to be all right.

The next week, however, people watching Luz will note that she's actually kind of tired a lot of the time, enough that she's taken to either using the staff or riding on her omen's back. Tempest and Owlbert are very disturbed by this, both having their own connection with Luz, and the girl is doing her best to keep on going.

Unfortunately, this all hasn't dampened her resolve to continue her part in the blood ritual. Girl is definitely needing a transfusion before she even attempts to use her blood for something like that.

Now try to convince Luz herself of this.

High Stakes

Luz would have never been one to call herself a gambler. She was too young, all the tropes surrounding the game just seemed like an unnecessary hassle. However, she'd just dealt with almost dying several days ago, and is looking for a bit of relief. The draw to have some food and drink and a place that seemed a little like her barcade from a few months ago is too much to resist, and so Luz stays, learning about the prizes and watching other people for some time before she starts to go into some games herself!

The prizes are small, and so are the bets, Luz being careful not to go too crazy. As she takes her wins and losses though, she learns that one of the prizes is Pthumerian blood.

So maybe Luz is going to up the stakes and see how good of a streak she can get.

Option A: When you meet, the two of you might be playing in a game together. Maybe you're pooling your wins together to hopefully get a big prize!

Option B: Luz has lost BIG time. She didn't expect to be blindsided on that last bet of the night, and unfortunately, she'd now lost her chip.

"Sorry guys, I guess I'm out! I'm just going to get going and...hey, hey! No touching! Where are we going?!"

Oops.

Option C: Luz spots you being ushered down to the basement and is following to see what she can do. You might see her out of the corner of your eye, you might be too bust insisting you should be let go!

Either way, looks like you're going to need her help.

The Leech

[onerthes]

Vira-Lorr, herself, was just as focused on seeing to it that Riteior was stopped. Of course, the real problem at this point wasn't that she was anemic, which she was. No, the problem was getting her a transfusion or her offering one to someone else. That wasn't going to happen, not without a lot of blood sweat and tears.

Still, she was definitely going to be checking up with her friend and partner, and perhaps they could figure something out, as soon as she found out that the other was weak that is. First, however, came the knocking at Luz's door of a pale, tired Vira-Lorr.

High-Stakes A

[fogsong]

Sharon was pleasantly drunk, cheeks flushed. She had been tense when she'd entered the gambling hall, prepared for something awful to befall anyone who entered but found herself easing the longer she stayed. When she spotted Luz, she was quick to team up with her. She had no big prizes she wanted to win but she learned Luz was after something.

As they count their chips, Sharon sighed, "We still need a lot more, I think."

The Leech!

[thisislife]

Let Lexi state for the record that she thinks the ritual is a bad idea. A very bad, terrible, no-good idea. But she's sticking close to Luz, regardless, because if something bad does happen, she's somewhere and with Luz. So she can do something about it.

And she whispered urgently to Luz. "Luz. Luz. Hey, honey, are you--you don't look like you're feeling too hot."

Cho Hakkai | Saiyuki | Paleblood

[knowsvinewhip]

THE LEECH | crenshaw | ota
[True to his word on the network, Hakkai has opened the door to his rooms at the Crenshaw boarding house he's staying in. "Rooms" is generous - it's a room and a bathroom. But still. It's neat, as clean as possible, with a small wood stove for warmth and the pot of tea already set out to warm. Seriously, you could probably eat off the floor, though he would advise against it.]

[Hakkai has his sleeves rolled up, and at a Sleeper's knock, he will open the door and usher them inside.]

Please sit, and I'll see what I can do.

[Even if he can't cure whatever this is, he's learned he can at least give his fellow Sleepers a boost. So have a seat, the healer is in.]


THE CARD SHARK | goat turning | ota
[Usually, he holds back from playing cards. Or games of chance. He has no idea why, but, Hakkai is usually uncannily good at them. To the point of it being a no-contest for other players. He's not sure why, honestly. Maybe it has to do with the fact he never seems to get intoxicated...]

[Or the whole, you know, demon thing.]

[But here he sits, at one of the tables, and there are... a lot of bottles. And a good stack of chips at his elbow. His usual blank smile seems somehow a bit more smug than usual, though he sits straight and alert in his chair.]

[Should anyone approach, he'll politely incline his head. His expression never wavers, and behind the monocle, his eyes are clear.]

It seems I've gotten quite lucky this evening. How are you faring?


((ooc plotting is here!))

the leech

[fogsong]

[ Sharon takes a seat the moment he advises it, plopping down, the relief she feels to be off her feet almost palpable. She's pale, her skin almost waxy in appearance, and there are deep bags in shades of blue and violet hanging beneath her eyes.

She hastily pushes her hair behind one ear. ] I'm guessing it's more Trench bullshit. It doesn't feel like I'm sick, just... drained.

goat turning!

[possessum]

( It isn't Peter here in this strange place with the lively chatter and games of chance and luck. No, this isn't Peter's Scene at all, but something else is having a very good time. The demon king Paimon is an entity who loves a good challenge, as well as the the thrill of a game, and with each clink of coins and chips, his spirit thrums and sparkles.

Paimon is also almost uncannily good at games such as these (perhaps it really is a demon thing), but some of it is his propensity towards manipulation. Not cheating, an entity like himself isn't capable of that even if he wanted to be, but he can use his hands to move quickly, tricks of the fingers, tactics of confusion. There's also an intense and eerie knowing to the way he stares at his opponents, and his mind processes numbers too quickly; it intimidates others. He watches in silence, learns how these games work, and sinks his teeth right into them.

He wins something important from the Moss King himself, and now Paimon is leading an entire dromedary through the casino.... proudly, oblivious to any odd stares. This place is strange and surreal anyway, what's one ancient demonic camel added to the mix?

The creature is huge, but it walks with an almost unnaturally quiet gait, making hardly a sound. Soft black smoke puffs from its nostrils as it breathes, and more smoke seeps up from its eyes on occasion. Paimon is practically glowing as he guides the creature alongside him by a thin rope, wandering around the area. He's passing close to someone's table when his attention is caught — dark eyes brightening. He's been searching for people to show his beloved dromedary off to.... )

I have won a prize. ( Looking to the camel beside him; yes, his prize is... this. It's this. Paimon couldn't look prouder... )

Will you keep going? Seek to win something you yearn for, deeply?

Vira-Lorr | Record of Agarest War | OTA

[onerthes]

Don't forget your vegetables!
Oh, Vira-Lorr was not in the mood for this shit. One of those weird plants with scythe arms had just slashed out and lashed out, causing her to roll backwards just to get away, gripping her arm. there was an acrid odor in the air and a sizzling sound on the ground. She was fine, but her shirt sleeve was not, and that had her in a bad mood.

"That hurt! I liked this outfit you know," she shouted, reaching for her rapier and looking around to make sure nobody else was nearby, just in case she needed to warn them. "I think I'm just about ready for some weeding." And from that moment it was going to be easy enough to find Vira-Lorr in the process of taking her blade... or a more useful machete to hack at these vegetative disasters.

Just mind the flytraps...

Want a side of Acid with that Transfusion?
When she wasn't finishing up the recording results that involved squid ink, or trying to keep her home and the nearby lantern site clear of trash and vegetation, Vira-Lorr was still plotting the shared downfall of Riteior. Of course, that also meant that she inevitably suffered from a little curse or two. Because, what blood ritual was complete without some blood?

Presently, she was lacking in that department. Looking more than a little exhausted, she was making her way towards the Luminarium with a worried look. She was still armed, but the real concern she had wasn't her survival. It was how she was going to safely get a transfusion, considering the nature of her vileblood powers. However, she wasn't about to stop short just because of the danger. Hopefully, the people at the Luminarium would have an idea. Or perhaps one of her friends.

First, however, she had to get there because most of the lantern locations were overgrown right now and there were a lot of very irritating plants around...

Let's Sweeten the Pot
Who didn't want another Lunar Orb? Well, ok maybe that wasn't what Vira-Lorr was actually angling for. She hadn't decided what she wanted quite yet, but the game seemed worth at least a few risks. But that was the way that they hooked you, wasn't it? A few small wins followed by one too many losses. Just enough wins after that to feel like you had a hot streak coming.

And here she was, and a certain chip was in the hands of whoever was across the table from her. Was it a friend gambling with her? Was it the dealer? Did it matter? She looked uncomfortably at them, frowning. Yeah, she had come back to the table with enough chips to try and win it back, and it wasn't too late, but she could feel the hour wearing long and she didn't like that feeling.

"You enjoying yourself, mmm?" Even if she was talking to someone she knew, she was a little on edge, knowing what that meant. Still, how she reacted would probably depend a lot on their intentions and just how well she knew them.

Wildcard
(Go for it! I'm down for just about anything.

Don't forget your vegetables!

[thisislife]

Lexi had a mind to visit Vira-Lorr given that she knew the other woman was one of Luz's closest friends and she'd recently lost her wife. Lexi and Luz weren't married, but she couldn't bear the idea of something happening to Luz, especially disappearing. Going back into the sea. As if that was some kind of fucking comfort. "Oh, they're there, but they're a squid and probably don't remember you!"

Bullshit.

And the plants here reminded her strongly of Audrey 2 from "Little Shop of Horrors." So she was giving those plants a wide berth, just in time to hear Vira-Lorr cry out.

"Hey, um, I'm coming! To help! Do you need a bandage?" You could take the reasons for maternal instincts away from Lexi, but not the maternal instincts from the girl.

Let's Sweeten the Pot

[smallshot]

Her opponent? A literal child. Gabi hadn't bet her special coin, but she had been eating the snacks and she'd been compelled to bet the enchanted coins. She wasn't an expert at these kinds of games, but she'd seen others in the barracks play occasionally.

And she was very good at acting like a lost little kid. Here and back home, people underestimated her and she knew how to play into that.

Currently, she was sitting on a high seat, swinging her legs. Cheerfully smiling when someone sat down. Almost hidden behind her chips.

"Yep! Everyone here is really nice."

Neopolitan Sustrai | RWBY | OTA

[threelayers]

Weed-Killing
Hush was terrible at this. She was a dignified lady, designed to block out the rain, to bat away every attack and to stab them when they least expected it. Neopolitan hoped her beloved combat umbrella could forgive her, because after at least one close call? Well, she knew better than to bring a piercing weapon to a slashing weapon fight.

She had, as a result, a heavy-duty combat axe in one hand and was stalking the streets. The root systems weren't her concern. Locals could handle their own plant problems to clear their houses and shops. No, she was on the streets, doing what she always did. Killing monsters. It was what she was good at, and plant monsters were just another sort of monster.

Were you backup? Were you someone in need of rescue? It didn't matter. She was down for it, and she could always use the backup afterwards.

Sapphora's After Hours
One nice thing about Sapphora's was that the huntress hangout was just that, a HUNTRESS hangout. It was clear of roots and plants most nights because one of the staff was kept on duty tearing that shit out so that the others could get a damned moment of rest. The rest of the club was full of exhausted, muscle-aching huntresses looking to destress, and that was just the crowd that Neo appreciated.

Right now, she was at the pool table, snickering silently over at the latest person to try and take her on. Her arms were killing her, but so were theirs, so in an even match she was always good at making the odds stack in her favor. Giving them a punch on the arm as they winked and walked away grumbling, she happened to spy a familiar face and beckoned them over with a wink. Fancy a game, a drink? She was trying to be sociable at least.

You Bet your Life on It
Neopolitan knew one thing about this place. The House always won. That's how it was with the Moss King, just like how it had always been in the Hair of the Dog. There was no reason it would be different, so what she never bet with? The chip that had her face on it. It meant she was never winning big, but it also meant she wasn't literally losing her shirt.

That didn't mean everyone she knew was being that sensible. Catching the sound of distress from a nearby table, she walked over to investigate either the good... or bad fortune of a friend. Ok, maybe she was willing to put in a little more risk, if someone she actually gave a shit had gotten in over her head. She wasn't really looking to get another Lantern, but someone owing her a favor was worth its weight in gold.

Wildcard
(Always open for most things. Toss me a line!)

weed-killing

[tealeafs]

Did someone mention a rescue? Because Chizuru sure is in need of one.

Granted, these plants shouldn't be too much trouble to most people. Even Chizuru has figured out to mostly try to stay out of their way and keep safe that way. They're plants, after all, it's not exactly like they can come after you the way monsters here usually can.

But sometimes one catches you by surprise. Which is why Neopolitan might spot her friends while being out on the streets - right as Chizuru is in the middle of getting dragged closer and closer to what is clearly a flesh-eating plant. There's a vine wrapped around her ankle, which is what is dragging her closer to the plant itself. The girl is struggling against it, trying to dig her fingers into the ground to keep herself from being moved closer and reaching out to her sword, which is lying there on the ground right out of reach.

It's a futile effort, though, since Chizuru seems to be inching closer and closer to the plant as she's getting dragged, letting out a whimper.

Chozen Toguchi | Cobra Kai

[toguchi]

1. Too Much Of A Good Thing
[ cw: plant-based peril ]

Early in the month, a relative newcomer may be seen puttering about the courtyard of Miyagi-do and its nearest streets. He is dressed sensibly for heavy duty gardening, decked out in thick gloves and a battered and inexplicable baseball cap, but instead of wielding trowel or rake he carries a squared off, sloped handled machete, which he wields with enthusiasm on the profusions of unnatural, thirsty vegetation when they are too large to uproot by hand.

Anyone who gets close enough to him without his immediate notice will overhear him carrying on a mostly one-sided conversation with the chattering vampiric plants before he dismantles them.

"You are looking for blood in the wrong place, Weed-san. This is not that kind of dojo, and you will upset the students," he tells one, gently, as it snaps futilely at his gloved fingers while being pulled up by the roots, "Ah - you have very bad manners. You should learn from the bonsai. Maybe then we would not have this problem."

He tosses the limp plant into a dirt-smudged wicker basket and hunkers back on his heels, putting a hand to the small of his back and arching against it with a sigh. Perhaps he should ask some of the students for help, after all...but he would end up hovering and butting in anyway, if he is honest with himself.

When, or if, he notices a person approaching, he smiles brightly, straightening up with a quiet crackle of his knees and nodding his greetings.

2. High Stakes
[ cw: gambling, risk of death
big prize: blood-enchanted sai. ]

The man who makes his way around the gambling tables of Goat Turning could hardly seem further removed from the affable sensei at Miyagi-do. He leans rakishly against the edge of whatever game he is intent on that evening, the sharp lines of his black blazer a stark and deliberate contrast to the revolving series of bright yet stylish patterned shirts he layers beneath them. The glint in his eyes has none of the benign warmth he shows around the dojo - there is a vulpine mischief to it that has more teeth than playfulness.

He plays aggressively and unpredictably, his fortunes rising and falling in great swoops as he tries his hand at all manner of games, from blackjack to mahjong to a curious local style of poker. His nerve seems as unshakable as his hands, his expression never giving anything away beyond arched eyebrows of amusement or modestly resigned acceptance, whatever his luck happens to be.

This may have to do with the way he usually seems to come out modestly ahead at the end of the night, no matter how far down he may have tumbled during it. Someone with that kind of good fortune has no reason to fuss over temporary setbacks, surely.

And yet, for all his air of mystery and intrigue, the prizes he claims are extraordinarily prosaic. Simple medicines, food, a particularly soft and warm blanket, a parcel of nails, packets of seeds - nothing to match the sort of person he presents himself as. His frequent company, too, tends toward the slightly odd...

Chozen might be met at one of the gambling tables, or found at the bar, evidently waiting for someone. You may be that someone, or you may be a new acquaintance: either way, he will greet you with a somehow knowing smile.

3. Wildcard
[ DM me or ping me at terriblepurpose to discuss any additional starters you might be interested in! ]

high stakes

[toteninsel]

Ariane meets Chozen at the bar fairly early in the night. She says nothing until the bartender passes her a drink topped with a fun little umbrella, which Ariane wastes no time in twirling. It even has a little eye on it, which she thinks is a lovely touch.

Once the bartender leaves, Ariane slides a small collection of Coldblood stones over to Chozen and returns the knowing smile. "Bingo."

A fun little local term of art, and one that she's picked up here. Ariane lets herself look a little smug, just for a moment, before taking a sip of her drink. "The one with the eyepatch is easy, if he thinks you're new to this." Forcing him to softly hallucinate a little tune, just loud enough to be distracting, doesn't hurt either. But that's a secret trick Ariane will keep up her sleeve for now.

Creeping Dust | OC | OTA

[cynomorpha]

🐝 itsabee#1072 | Bee (2)
💀 Plotting comment

---

TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING

[ Creeping Dust and his omen stand before a thatch of squalling plants. The plants snap and cry at him, but they cannot quite reach. He stands with his arms crossed, watching them without emotion.

He draws a small sigil in the air, a necromantic symbol that resonates with source energy. Sometimes this is useful in finding the central cause of a possession. However, here it simply disappears under the earth with the root system, which he certainly predicted.

He does not have the supplies currently for an excursion into the depths below the city. So he will have to compromise. He draws a large curved blade from where it is crossed with its twin on his back. ]

Now, who would like to be first?

[ The next plant to snap at him is deftly grabbed and cut in a smooth motion. ]

THE LEECH

[ He hears of the affliction through eavesdropping, which is his habit just about everywhere he goes. He has really no respect for the privacy of anyone else's conversations. Upon establishing it has struck a few, he goes to the Blood Ministers for a little conversation. They tell him their theories, and he goes out into the town to see if he can find any research on the subject. Luckily, someone mentioned the location of the archives to him.

He makes his way there, and looks around with pleasure. Ah, yes. This is his kind of place. He feels the intriguing connection with his Patron Pthumerian here. A creature with interesting parallels to the Ghost Dog.

As they take in the library and are informed of its "organization" system, his omen steps out into the world; a dog of smoke with a glowing heat in its center, like burning coals. It will take the lead as their intuition.

Creeping Dust puts his hands into his pockets and follows along lazily, admiring even the most gruesome of artifacts as they go. ]

HIGH STAKES

[ He loathes crowded places; a solitary creature. However, such gatherings are always full of opportunities. People are primarily useful to him, convenient in their moment, and here are fish in a barrel.

He tidies up a bit: no longer in light leather armor, and now dressed in a professorial looking garb, complete with a pair of glasses. His dark hair is still an unruly mess of curls.

In the evening, he can be found in the gambling hall playing with quiet certainty. He has a cagey mixture of bluffing and conservative play, and a mean smile when he wins. He does not put the token with his face on the table at any point, it remains in his jacket pocket.

He drinks with restraint, his glass still mostly full when he smiles in a way that doesn't reach his eyes and inquires, ]

What brings you here?

[ After hours, he follows a poor debtor as they are shown the way downstairs. He keeps to the shadows until the raucousness of the underground fighting ring is revealed. Ah. Yes, that doesn't surprise him. More importantly, he wants in on the action.

So he finds his way onto the roster and carefully folds up his shirts, his little pair of glasses. He looks much less professorial in this state. He is covered in scars, the pattern so immaculately consistent that it must have been done with great intent. Some occult ritual?

He is as cagey of a fighter as he was a gambler, full of tricks and sharp, sudden violence. His relationship with the Coldblood remains new, some of his spells don't work quite as he expected. But at least one pops with a dangerous blast of fire or electricity, and his Decrepify spell burns with an icy cold.

In the early morning, he takes his leave on his own. A little battered and bloody around the face, but immensely satisfied. He blinks at the rising sun and goes to find a cup of coffee, which he has determined is excellent in comparison to the alternative he remembers from home.

The battered 'professor' and his omen sit together, people watching absently. ]

WILDCARD

If you want me to write a prompt customized to your character, I'm happy to! Just ping me.

high stakes | evening

[fogsong]

[ Sharon appears to have had a bit much to drink by this time of the night, a flush across her cheeks and down her neck, but she's not overly drunk, just enough to be loosey-goosey with her chips. There's a drink in her hand but she only sips at it now. She's lost more games than she's won tonight but she's not at risk of losing everything quite yet.

She's seen this man around, has watched how he's played (that smile of his had some bite to it) and has even taken mental notes, maybe watching him a little too much. She's not a big gambler, still learning, and he looks like he knows what he's doing.

At the question, she snorts. ]

Same reason as everyone else, trying to 'win big'. [ But she rolls here eyes. ] For someone else, though. I'm giving her whatever I win.

Pyrrha Dve | Duty | The Locked Tomb

[martyrofduty]

Open and closed TLs added below. Top comment because anticipating at least one more later.

Reach out to me at P/D's plotting comment, inoctavo or silyara#7604 if you'd like to plot something else!

Too Much of a Good Thing

[martyrofduty]

Not Dead Yet

CW: being eaten alive, fire

Pyrrha's having a no good very bad day. After chopping her way out the house this morning, taking the long flame-throwing way to work this morning, working less than she liked, and meditating longer than usual at Sanctuary to lessen her corruption, she's finally on the long haul back home. She's exhausted. Her Coldblood powers feel drained, like she's been fighting for hours with flames and ice instead of building buildings without magic, and every five steps something grabs at her ankle.

Tomorrow, she's changing out her normal weapons, something more choppy. Today, today she's stuck making do using the flamethrower and getting creative with most of her traditional weapons: spear, pistols, and knives. It's like the draugr only plants. Note to self: make more Coldblood grenades if she can manage. Ruby and Jinx are both out of it this month, so she cannot simply purchase more. No, everything is more work.

She's not perfect. Her attention slips for a moment, and something snaps shut around her. The world goes dark, and no one can hear the epic string of curses Pyrrha releases into the fleshy depths of a Venus humantrap. Fuck you up the ass with a flamethrower, Pyrrha finishes with. Before she's stuck, digested, or otherwise in for squid death round two, she aims her flamethrower at the closed mouth of the plant and lets loose. Some of the flame breath out the other side.

Don't Listen to That

CW: disturbing voices

Duty's got places to be, so he ignores the voices whispering or not-so-whispering in his ear. Just another day in the life. It's happened so many days this month he's lost count. The difference is that, today, someone else seems to be stopped, stuck, transfixed by the words. Though he stops.

Walking over slowly, not to be interpreted as a threat, Duty slowly rests one hand on their shoulder, "Don't listen to them."

Staging Point Sleepover [Closed to D]

CW: chronic exhaustion, discussions thereof

After the daily trip to Sanctuary, after a day Duty brought more to work than usual, Duty returns to the staging point and knocks on the door. D won't take long to respond. He'll already know Duty's at the door. He'll know Duty's exhausted. The psychic black hole of lyctorhood doesn't hide normal physical signs from the senses. Duty stands steady, not leaning against anything for support more out of stubborn determination for the short time than anything else. He'll relax and take it easy on himself once he's inside. He's not stupidly stubborn. He takes regular breaks at work.

He pulls out a cigarette and a lighter, flicks it open, flicks it closed, and puts them both back away. This household has sensitive noses.

Murderbot | The Muderbot Diaries

[offinventory]

This is Not the Reward I am Looking For  (High Stakes)

CW: N/A

Murderbot really should uninstall and reinstall its risk assessment module. Against all forms of its better judgment, it came to the Goat Turning upon encouragement, it saw someone in what it thought was danger and knowing the rules of these things as much from stories about faeries as about gambling knew how to get them back, and it gambled. It gambled with the dumb ass chip with its face on it. Possibly the stupidest thing in existence.

Somehow that led it before the Moss King. Fine. It worked. "I want Chrollo Lucilfer's token," Murderbot says.

"I don't have it," Moss King replies. He even shows empty hands, as if that means anything.

"What are the other options?" Murderbot asks. It hadn't paid attention. The list is provided. Blood. No. Blood enchanted weapon or armor. Softer no. Another lantern. Maybe. Something from home. What? More drones? Murderbot has, not surprisingly given its origin, never had much. It's always wanted a lot of additional weapons from Mensah, but it's not in the weapons game anymore. Media? That washes up. 



"A Lunar orb," it says. One appears in its hands. Tada. Great. That can provide backup power to The Entertainment Feed (or itself) in case of an emergency.

"Uh, thanks," Murderbot says because it understands you shouldn't piss off horribly powerful beings like Pthumerians.

It returns to the rest of the Goat Turning, looking for Chrollo and anyone who might have his chip.

Wildcard

Reach out to me at Murderbot's plotting comment, inoctavo or silyara#7604 if you'd like to plot something else!

Mayerling | Vampire Hunter D

[whowillmourn]

Open and closed TLs added below. Top comment because anticipating at least one more later.

Reach out to me at Mayerling's plotting comment, inoctavo, or silyara#7604 if you'd like to plot something else!

High Stakes

[whowillmourn]

Social Hour

CW: minorly altered behavior

Mayerling makes his way around the Goat Turning with a drink in his hand. On occasion he lifts it to his mouth, but he doesn't take a sip. When no one is watching or nearby, with his cloak as cover, he pours some of it on a plant. As a vampire, Mayerling cannot taste the drink. He merely wants to fit in. The energy is strong! It's social! There are so many people here. That normally would concern him, but his bloodlust is restrained. He longs to meet new people far more than he longs to play gambling games.

His energy is, if anything, somewhere between an excited puppy and a scientist on the verge of a breakthrough. Except he's also the drama kid who wants to tell you about the play he's in. He approaches you or you approach him. What do you make of this place? Are you going to gamble? What would you want to win if you took home a grand prize?

Preventative Maintenance (Lesser Prizes)

CW: in line with event

Because everything feels possible, Mayerling sits down at a table. He's played poker before, back when people were still around who would play poker with him. He's a little out of practice. He goes down and up and down and up. It's a quiet table, far from the high rollers, the heavy action.

Want to join in? Have you already been playing? Want to kibitz in his ear for good luck?

Mayerling listens to everyone's heartbeats every play they make. It's not 100%. The best poker players are steady, hard to read. Still, he has enough chips to trade for something small if his luck holds.

Dramatic Swoosh (Grand Prize)

CW: N/A

That sense of being able to do anything, which may have come from the Moss King itself, proves right. Mayerling is astonished. He stands before the Moss King himself and gives the deepest of bows with a dramatic swoosh of his cloak. Somehow he manages to nearly prostrate himself without actually doing so. After showing his respect, he stands tall, as befits a champion.

"What would you have?" Moss King asks.

"A Nobility Portable Refuge stocked with medical supplies and synthetic blood," Mayerling replies. Given the awkwardness of carrying his coffin around with him on multiple adventures, it was no difficult answer to come up with. The specifics were listed because merchants like to quibble and if not specified, they aren't always included. Oh they are if asked. That's how it works back home, but if they can get you to pay for less? It's not so different from here.

The Moss King holds out a small object, surely nothing that looks like a refuge. However, it has a pocket on it. Trusting the Pthumerian either not to have cheated him or not to be willing to change whatever he's handed over, Mayerling accepts it. He bows again and walks back into the crows, slipping it far away from any wandering hands.

Caitlyn Kiramman 🧁 Arcane

[topside_cupcake]

Too Much of a Good Thing:
At first it was nice to see a bit more green, especially with how gloomy and drab everything looked. But now that the roots and the flowers and stems were popping up everywhere it was becoming more and more of a hassle. And Caitlyn was glad that she didn't have to worry about running around barefoot now with all the thorns that were popping up. With several of the other hunters, she was part of the effort of clearing out some of the more heavily impacted areas, using some of the weed killer to clear buildings and paths for others. Currently she was working on clearing a lamp where one particular group of plants were being being nasty.

At the moment she was a bit more occupied with the roots that she was pulling than the giant pod behind her that had opened and was getting ready to close around her if she took just two more steps.

High Stakes Option 01: Mingling Night one
Caitlyn wandered around the Casino, taking in the sights and the sounds, but not actually participating in any of the games. Even after an hour or two, Caitlyn has the exact same number of chips as when she walked in. Instead she was watching others, learning the games, and ensuring that everything was being played fairly. She was also watching the chips, every so often pulling the chip that bore her face and looking at it.

"I'm not sure I want to know what its worth."

High Stakes Option 02: Night three or four - Take Mine
It was starting to get late, and Caitlyn had seen as others were starting to leave. Each of them having to present that same chip on their way out. She'd been right about it, but then she also noticed that there were several that were turned away. In fact it looked like they were being taken somewhere. Unfortunately it's too late as she watches someone else's chip slide across the table towards the house.

At first she put the other chips down,

"Here take these instead."

Unfortunately it seemed like the small stack which she'd started the night with wasn't nearly enough for the commemorative chip which had been bet. Her eyes darted from the person to the doors, and then back to the one chip that was left in her hand. She wouldn't be able to leave without it, but could she leave knowing that there were others being held here against their will? As the house came to collect Caitlyn does something stupid, putting her chip down.

"Here, take use this to get to get it back."

At the very least she wasn't going to let this person go where it it was alone. Hopefully the chip was enough though.

High Stakes: Final night Cellar Door CW: Character Death
It had worked the first time, she'd managed to help someone to get their chip back. Then there had been a second and third, all in all, Caitlyn had managed to get retrieve the commemorative chip for five people, but then her luck gave out. She watched as the last card fell and her life was forfeit.

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath. She didn't know what was going to happen, but she knew it wouldn't be safe. And so she followed the bouncer down the stairs into the darkness of the basement, the crowds cheering and jeering even though the doors were closed to the establishment.

I'm sorry, I just saw this! Too Much of a Good Thing!

[imaglyphwitch]

"Hey, watch out!"

Luz was lucky enough that she wasn't sick just yet, so she was still pretty fast. Luz held out her staff and her plant glyph wrenched the pod open before it could close around Caitlyn.

"Need help with the roots? My glyph should hold open that pod for a while!"

sansa stark | asoiaf

[dohaeris]

i. just like clockwork

[sansa doesn't exactly have time to roam around the city in search of dangerous plants, but she does come across them as she makes her way between her various places of work and lessons. her cold bloodstone cuffs are enough for her to freeze them over, at which point her hellhound vhagar will usually bite one in half––except this time one hissing, snap-jawed plant manages to bite sansa on the arm. she draws it away, glaring alternately at the plant and the little holes in her dress where blood is already welling up. she backs away, drawing up magic from her bloodstone cuff, when it whispers "You can't hold back the tide forever," and sansa stills.

of course her first thought is riteoir. they haven't fully been able to contain his influence through the seal, the empty streets of his city are testament to that. it's disturbing that he's managed to somehow control the plants, but if he is speaking through them, a line of communication could be useful...she hangs out of reach while the plant begs for blood, maintaining a carefully neutral demeanor.]

I shouldn't like to get in the way of the ocean.

ii. the dominoes cascaded into line

[at some point vi lost her commemorative coin trying to win back someone else's, and it has fallen to sansa to get them out. unfortunately, sansa doesn't know any card games. fortunately, she lives with someone who knows them very well. after quite a lot of barely restrained panic and shouting, and a prolonged visit to sansa's dreamscape to stretch out the time allotted them, lazarus manages to teach her poker. she's a quick study, although she doesn't quite see it that way. and with the clock ticking, and veins full of adrenaline and sugar, sansa sets off.]

a. [ezra]

[sansa has made herself look...different for the goat turning. she wears a dusty mauve gown not unlike what she wore in king's landing, with sleeves and skirts just shy of floor-length. gone are the thick belts, the feathered collar, the elaborate chatelaine, even her needle necklace (keen observers will notice it's looped around lady's neck under a wreath of mauve ribbons. sansa wears a little dragonfly pendant instead). there's no bloodstone visible on her person, and her hair is twisted gently back from her face in two small rope braids that gather at the nape of her neck. she no longer looks older than her years.

more importantly, her whole demeanor changes inside the goat turning. she seems shy, and sweet, and a bit lost. she clutches ezra's arm and looks around nervously. when she speaks, her voice is loud enough to carry over the general tavern din.]

Oh, we don't have any of these games on my world. Which is the one with kings and queens?

[she means poker, and of course she's spotted it, letting her eyes rest on a circle of people gathered around the table clutching a fan of cards each.]

b. [open]

[if you find yourself playing against sansa, you may be struck by how different she seems and sounds––shy, demure, full of nervous laughter. she calls jacks 'knights' and mixes up spades and clubs, straights and flushes, and she calls a full house a 'full hand...' and yet she seems to be winning.

if you try to talk to her, she'll be shy and vague. friends might receive a text from a user named 'summerhall' asking them to go along with it.]

c. [open]

[shortly after vi (and anyone else's) freedom is secured, and sansa has managed to win an enormous greatsword, some of the local gamblers seem to grow suspicious of her extraordinary luck, muttering to themselves. sansa withdraws, looking nervous, appealing for sympathy, until one man recognizes her from the sanctuary (or perhaps from when she accidentally healed entire city blocks of their haircuts and prosthetics back in august). he pushes forward, bristling.

"I've seen that girl, she's a Paleblood," he shouts, and turns to address the crowd. "She's been reading your minds."

sansa tenses.]

I can't do that. [quickly:] I'm a dreamwalker.

[both true statements! she reaches for her father's sword, sending her chakra down into her feet and letting her voice wobble on the edge of tears.]

I just wanted moon drops for my friends.

[she does have a few up her sleeve!]

II.C

[fogsong]

[ Sharon doesn't pay the commotion much mind at first. It's just noise. She's a little drunk, a lot exhausted and was on her way out when Sansa's voice finally cuts through the crowd. She can hear the emotional waver in her voice and, instantly, she's pushing through the growing crowd, shoving people out of her way to reach the younger teen.

When she reaches her, Sharon moves to her side, a single step in front of her, ready to throw hands. ]

You got a problem with her winning, you get to take it up with me first. [ Her voice is like hot steel but her expression is like ice. She stares down at the man who called out to Sansa. ] I fucking hate piss poor losers and I'm kind of hungry for a fight.

Nara'a Sunvara | Final Fantasy XIV

[aetherweaver]

High Stakes

Nara'a isn't much of a gambler - he avoids the Gold Saucer most of the time outside of playing Triple Triad. He's mostly an observer most of the time. In truth he has no real intention of gambling - until he sees some of the prizes people are winning. He's been itching to get his hands back on certain weapons of his, and this provides a perfect opportunity.

He doesn't win a lot at first. The games are largely unfamiliar still, despite having been here a few times. The fact that he's got expressive ears and a tail doesn't help, either - they make his poker face terrible. Still, he's starting to win bit by bit, never gambling more than he can afford to lose.

Perhaps you're at the table as well? Maybe you'd like to change that?


Low Stakes

Once he's gained enough tokens to be significant - just barely enough, but enough - he makes his request known. And, somewhat to his surprise, he's granted it. He can be easily found hanging around the food and drink tables for a bit, occasionally taking a look at a crystal in his hand. He hides it away when he notices someone looking at it, but he's not the sneakiest.

He's available for conversation or questions, though he'll be a bit less amenable to the idea of pushing his luck at the card tables any further. If you're really in need though he might be convinced... especially if your life is at stake.


No Stakes

There's some odd noises coming from the plant-strewn streets. Nara'a prefers to drag back to Sanctuary rather than kill, but that's not always possible. Sometimes beasts give him no real choice. It's not his usual sounds of combat however that echo through the districts - instead he's in an odd outfit, though the weapon he has in his hands is unmistakable as a gun. He's working on some large werewolf-like monster, several meters tall - but the catman seems to be whirling around it, bullets appearing from midair and whizzing into the monster's flesh. It all seems... reasonably normal...

And then he presses a button and summons what can only be described as a mechanical monster, the steel creature barreling forward and slamming a fist into the more hairy monster.

What in the world - ?

High Stakes

[unphase]

Tinya recognizes him from her post a few months ago, the one asking if one could love two people at once, remembers that she'd told him that someday, she'd say who she was.

This seemed like as good of an opportunity as any.

So Tinya sidled in, wearing a little black dress with her trusty Omen, Moonlight riding confidently on her shoulder.

She approaches with a smile. "They say that if you want to win big, you've got to be willing to bet big. It could either blow up in your face or go magnificently, it depends on fate. So, which path do you think you'll take?"

Sharon Da Silva | Silent Hill | Coldblood

[fogsong]

▌ ▌ ▌ I. TOO MUCH OF A GOOD THING | i'm a magician now CW: bitchy talking plants

[ Sharon stalks towards the Watchtower in Crenshaw, a plant pot held tight in both hands, pressed up against her abdomen. Within this pot is one of the many strange talking plants. It attempts to snap at her, over and over, but each attempt seems to be blocked by some invisible force; the only indication this is something Sharon herself is doing is the slight narrowing of her blue eyes, jaw tight. ]

You're making a mistake [ Its voice echoes at her and she just sighs deeply as if she's heard it before. ] You don't know what you're doing!

Yep, I'm totally fucking clueless. [ It snaps at her again only to be ripped backward by some invisible string. ] Careful, or I'll decide you're not worth the effort and turn you into ash like the others.

[ LATER ON at the Watchtower, Sharon can be found hacking away at the vines that wrap tight around the Lamp Friends. She's been at it for a bit of time now. The plant she was carrying with her sat in the corner, bitching about the Moss Brat and her cluelessness and the pointlessness of her actions.

When someone enters the tower, she'll motion them over, sweat on her brow. ] Hey, wanna help me free these little guys? I'd use fire but I'd rather not risk singing them.

▌ ▌ ▌ II. HIGH STAKES | be thick skinned & party CW: gambling, drinking

[ Sharon visits Goat Turning several nights in a row. She plays fast and loose the first few visits, never overly concerned with winning but she's careful to never lose all of her chips. She mostly seems to be here for the hell of it. There's some evidence she might be physically exhausted, yawning, eyes sliding shut during lulls in a game, and there are visible bags beneath her eyes, but other than that she's powering through.

You won't ever find her without a drink in hand or a snack. She never drinks enough to get well & truly drunk but just enough that she's visibly looser. Less tense. Less jumpy at the sounds of shouting when someone wins (not that there aren't moments where she doesn't jump, hands going to her hip as if to pull a weapon).

She spends a lot of time people-watching, especially those who seem to win often. She'll slink up behind them to watch every play, unabashed, and never attempts to hide. When someone she's watching wins, she'll whistle and give a small woo before asking curiously. ] Is it luck or skill?

[ Or, maybe, she approaches someone who seems to have a good idea of what they're doing. ] Hey, you up to teaching me this game? I'll give you some of my chips.

▌ ▌ ▌ III. DATENIGHT CLOSED TO MAYERLING | hearts in our eyes CW: n/a

It's not her first date in Trench, not her first time planning one out and taking great care to consider what her date might enjoy, but the day leading up to it has her all jitters and nerves; as excited as she was nervous, the butterflies wild in her belly. She calls in favors and trades a few things to ensure an exciting night for a man who could only explore the city at night already.

Sharon would give him day if she could. A part of her feels embarrassed at herself, for going to such lengths, and she couldn't quite determine the reasoning behind it. She was still learning how to sort her feelings into the correct boxes (that's right, it goes in the square hole).

She shoots him a text late into the night, nearing midnight, that she was coming by to grab him. She didn't trust herself to call, afraid her voice would give her emotions away, but she knew he'd know the moment she approached the house. Maybe even before she got up the block (she still wasn't sure what the limit on his senses was and she makes a mental note to ask).

As usual, she doesn't bother to knock before she enters the residence, calling out to him despite the fact it was so utterly unnecessary (it felt normal, though), "Hey, Mayerling, you ready?"

Sharon hasn't just taken care to plan the date, she's gone out of her way to dress nicely for him, too, choosing something both lovely but functional in case they were to encounter a beast or some other trouble (god knows the city had enough of it, especially at night). The only weapon she has on herself tonight is her dagger, hidden beneath the coat. She did try to style her hair but... Well, it's still as wild as ever.

"I got the owner of an art gallery to let us have a private viewing tonight," she informs him as she pulls a key from her pocket, winking at him, "She owed me a few favors."

Everything she chose, she chose because she thought he might enjoy them, some things, like the gallery, were only ever open during the day. Even if he were to have wandered the districts a million times and visited every establishment open to him, this would be new for him. That was important to her.

HIGH STAKES

[unphase]

Tinya was in the casino, generally enjoying herself and sipping from a lemon drop martini. Instead of her usual black, she'd opted for white and enjoying the ambiance as much as anything. The sights, the sounds, the mixture of beautiful people playing games of chance with the highest stake imaginable on the offer in some cases.

So when Sharon approached her, asking her to teach her the closest game--a Blackjack table--Tinya smiles and immediately nods her ascent to her friend. "Of course. It's really easy to pick up, all it takes is the ability to count to twenty-one." And she giggled and said "And your hope that no one else gets closer to the number than you do. Feel like a game?"

Gabi Braun | Attack on Titan | Vileblood

[smallshot]

Too much of a good thing cw-Child endangerment,
[Gabi had already ran into the plants, they'd been here since she'd gotten here. At first, she'd had a large stick that she'd been using to try and fend the flora off.

Now she'd gotten a KNIFE!! machete from somewhere. The thing was almost as long as her arm but this was fine. It cut the vines so Gabi was happy. The plants had just made her frown the first few days.

But she'd chalked it up to this place being weird. Like the squid thing. She'd found a place to stay- The upper floor of an abandoned building. It was coated with dust and floorboards created. But that'd be a warning if anyone entered. Food was easy enough to come by, even if the idea of not having money was odd.

All in all. It was pretty easy to live her.

Then she was curly awoken one morning by a plant sticking it...Head into her second-floor window.

Yeah, she was screaming. Drowning out whatever the plant was saying. Throwing things, scraps of broken furniture at it and out the window.]

Leec- LIGHT FREN - cw?Abuse of moaner
Urrrg! My legs hurt!

[Just, you know, thought you should know. Because Gabi was complaining as she limped down the street. Dumb plants. She was blaming them. For breaking through her window, it'd let the cold in. That had to be why she felt so sluggish didn't it?

Still, her back hurt. The muscles carrying her pack seemed to feel the strain more than they normally would. Come on, she'd ran with packs heavier back home. Her arrival pack wasn't that heavy. Though, it did shuffle occasionally.

Then not long after Gabi's complaint, the pale, skeletal creature wiggled it's way out of her bag. Giving her a slight hug. Whining as it patted her head. Only to get elbowed.]

You can shove off.

[Weh, they're just going to shrink back into her bag. The boney hands vanishing last.]

High stakes - Cw-Gambling
[Gabi had no idea what was happening. She'd never been allowed in a place like this before, it was so colourful. And they had free food and drinks, of course she was going to try some. Even if food was generally free here.

She'd take it. Especially when given the chance to get other free stuff. She had so little that anything was better than what she had. So Gabi sat in one of the high seats, her feet not even reaching the ground. Squinting at the table.]

...How do you play this?

[She's 12, what this?]

Wildcard
[Anything else? You can make a prompt and comment or just ask for a custom one.]

Too much of a good thing

[drawsghosts]

[Darth Imperius has taken up patrolling the area, looking for the talking plants and the creepers threatening to choke the city. His saberstaff makes for a nice de-weeding tool.

As he examines a talking plant from afar, he hears the scream from the abandoned building and immediately heads towards it. Cutting away the roots at the door, he leaps up the stairs, going two at a time, before he reaches the source of the scream, seeing the girl throwing things at the intruder.]

Stand back!

[Imperius leaps forward and slices at the 'head' of the plant.]

Darth Imperius | Star Wars The Old Republic | Paleblood

[drawsghosts]

Weeding
Darth Imperius sweeps his saberstaff at some branches, cutting them away. He's just using one blade for now, cutting with smooth, practiced motions. He also zaps a few plants that look particularly dry, watching them sizzle into ash, but for the most part he sticks to his saberstaff.

He looks up at the building, seeing that there's still a lot of roots to slice away.
"This is not how I planned to spend my weekend."

The Leech
It seems that no matter what, Imperius can't get his energy back. Food doesn't help, meditation doesn't help, drinking water and juice doesn't help. Lately he feels like he can barely lift his lightsaber, and even moving a glass with the Force leaves him fatigued. His normally vibrant red skin is a sickly pink and his hair is dull and unwashed. Even his ponytail is messier than usual.

On his way to the Archive, he runs out of energy and has to sit on a bench. Imperius takes an orange out of his satchel and starts peeling it. He needs the quick burst of energy.

High Stakes
As Imperius sips his drink and clinks his chips in his hand, he idly wonders if he can get away with using the Force for gambling. Back on Nar Shaddaa, the Hutts would have you banned from the casinos if they caught a Force-user cheating at any of the tables of slots. Best to not risk it, because the Moss King could do far worse to him than a Hutt.

He takes another sip of his drink, feeling a little silly. "Has this room always been so shiny?"

Wildcard
[OOC: Feel free to ask for a prompt via PM, the game discord server, or plurk arwingyoshi]

The Leech

[unphase]

Tinya's on her own way to the Archives when she notices the man ahead of her take a seat on the bench. She doesn't recognize him, but she notices the dull, unwashed hair and sickly skin and her natural compassion comes to the surface.

So, she has a seat next to him. "There's no polite way to ask this, but are you all right? Feel free to tell me to shove off if you like," blue eyes dark with concern.

Albert Wesker / Resident Evil / Vileblood

[subject_013]

Visions (TDM prompt) "News guy wept and told us/Earth was really dying"

[CW: Rage and anguish, sudden rapid aging, Wesker being...Wesker.]

A blasted heath which once had held a garden of Lumenflowers. The buildings around it have fallen into ruin. Drifted sand fills the street. The fall of Deerington, in its successor and scion. And a mirror of what his world of origin might have become.

Wesker pauses in his tracks, staring about him, his movements slightly lacking some of his usual feline grace, then goes completely still as if he sensed something amiss. The last flicker of reddish bioluminescence flares in his eyes, then vanishes.

"It can't be..." he murmurs. He reaches up, taking his glasses from his face. And those who know what lurks behind those lenses will see his eyes as they once were: cold blue-grey with round pupils, the eyes of a poet or a killer - or both - now burning with denial consumed by fury. "It happened." He lowers his hand, the glasses falling from his nerveless fingers and dropping to the sand. "They're gone and the magic with them." He snatches the leather gloves from his hands, holding them up, the skin on them starting to tighten slightly, visible wrinkles forming to match the sharpening of his cheekbones, the deepening of the smirk lines, and is that a hint of silver forming at his temples?

"You did it, you imprudent cretins. You broke the world. Have fun with that, children. Damn you all... Damn you all to the hell that you made."

With a pained shriek through his teeth, he drops to his knees, bowing his head, palms on the sand, his shoulders shaking with barely contained rage. Only the sounds of his dry weeping and the wash of the desolate wind remain.

Wildcard (closed to Chrollo) | cw: death

[hachitaro]

Well. That was stupid. Taro's glad that Chrollo killed him before he could get dragged through whatever horrors the basement had for him. He holds those thoughts in his mind as he washes up on shore, staring up at the sky in his tanuki form. He sighs and flops on the wet sand, just... trying to feel his legs again. He's not sure he can muster up the energy to shapeshift at the moment.

Did Chrollo make it out? Did he die, too? He's not sure. He's also not sure if his Omen managed to get away with his winnings... but he glances over as he hears a yip and sees his white fox omen running down the sand to stop in front of him, licking his forehead.

"Yeah, yeah..."

[crossreversed]

With a death that wasn't far behind Taro's, Chrollo washes up on the beach as well not long after. He waits for a moment, collecting his aura to flow calmly around his body. There's a very fluffy creature nearby with familiar omen.

Chrollo reaches over and pats Taro's head gently.

"Good job." Chrollo's omen hadn't managed to get the pthumerian blood out intact, but it was a good attempt. Very educational, too. But overall he sounds completely unbothered by his recent death, as if it was only a minor inconvenience. Which, to him, it was. He had accepted a long time ago that his death, when it came, would be violent.

Jaina Solo | Star Wars | OTA

[forcechanic]

High Stakes

Most places that aren't Trench don't tend to let fourteen year olds into the casinos. At least, not places that her now respectable father would want his daughter going.

That does not, however, mean that Jaina is completely unfamiliar with the fine art of gambling. Her father and Uncle Lando are still arguing over which of them taught her to play sabaac.

Curiosity, call it. But also something seems off. "There's a reason they're just giving us chips, right?"

Presumably the reason is shady. Uncle Lando is definitely the one who taught her that lesson.

Too Much of a Good Thing

A lightsaber is useful for many things. Chopping off arms is a famous example. They also make rather excessive glowrods.

And, of course, they serve very nicely for clearing out vegetation. The purple blade is more efficient than a machete, even if one lightsaber is hardly going to put a dent in all these branches.

Still, for now it's the only option they've got. "These have to be coming from somewhere..."

Too Much of a Good Thing

[faithfulson]

Jaina wasn't the only one having trouble with the sudden burst of vegetation. If she looked up as she chopped up the greens covering the door, she would be able to see her uncle before he called out to her, an annoyingly persistent leaf still stuck in his hair from when he had to hack his way out of his own residence.

"Jaina, are you all okay?" he asked as he approached.