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deercountry2023-04-08 10:58 pm
reddosmod) wrote in deercountry2023-04-08 10:58 pm
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CHOICES AND REPRISALS
APRIL 2023 EVENT
CHOICE IS A GIFT WORTH MORE THAN GOLD
TRUST AND ITS PERILS
FROM HELL'S HEART I STAB AT THEE
CODING
Due to the cyclical nature of Trench, some of last year's April Prompts are available for use. Prompt Number 2 (Wonderkind) will be occurring again this month. Prompt Number 1 (Moonlit Butterfly Migration) does not occur, and many in Trench are publicly shocked not to see the migration. Hunters report that the Butterflies do pass along the edges of the community but they seem to be all carrying an immense amount of hope energy this year. Disciples and Arcane Scholars mutually agree (for once) that this must be because Riteior's defeat is eminent, meaning that there is a massive amount of ambient hope in the area, making their presence minimal this year. Prompt 3 is not available, as the Tethers seem to similarly be faded away for the same reasons.
IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: Alien Pthumerian with three arms]
[Image Two: Ivy Covered Door]
Prompt Two
[Image One: White glowing stag in forest]
[Image Two: Cliff's edge in fog]
Prompt Three
[Image One: Ruined City in a state of decay]
[Image Two: Humanoid figure covered in tentacles]
Prompt One
[Image One: Alien Pthumerian with three arms]
[Image Two: Ivy Covered Door]
Prompt Two
[Image One: White glowing stag in forest]
[Image Two: Cliff's edge in fog]
Prompt Three
[Image One: Ruined City in a state of decay]
[Image Two: Humanoid figure covered in tentacles]
WHEN: April 8-31
WHERE: Anywhere, along with a vision of the Outposst
CONTENT WARNINGS: Mention of Blood Rituals.
WHERE: Anywhere, along with a vision of the Outposst
CONTENT WARNINGS: Mention of Blood Rituals.
[Excerpt From History of Blood Crazed Zealots: Chapter 21 On the Tower found in the Lumenarium:]
The three armed Pthumerian floats just off of the ground. People of Trench bow at the sight of them and excuse themselves reverently. It does not react to anyone except those to whom it is addressing. “Greetings. I am Hali, Child of Bauphomette. I present a proposal.” There is a definite sense of power that flows through you as they speak, their androgynous and emotionally detached voice echoing more in your mind than your ears and you are sure that only those that are being addressed can hear it. Hali's proposal does not come in words, but rather a pair of visions that you are allowed to experience as long as you choose, to be certain of the nature of what is being offered. Both of these visions are of the Outpost outside of the walls of Trench.
FAQ:
1. This is an IC Vote, 1 Vote per character in the Plot Thread Below.
2. You may play out vision scenes in both versions using the Outpost as an example with other characters. Nobody is in danger within these visions.
3. The options are straightforward: Option One, Hali binds to an object that may be placed in another location. Once bound to that location, Hali will empower it as the Tower does Trench, to enable a new and thriving community with Pthumerian and Trench assistance. Option Two, Hali will reveal a ritual that will create an object that may be placed in another location. Once this is done, no Pthumerian will be able to enter, curse or otherwise intervene in that location. Initially that area would be a region about the size of the current Outpost, and could be increased with a ritual annually, though the process would be very slow and ultimately limited in scope. Doing so would drain Hali of most of their power to create, and so they would enter into seclusion afterwards for a long time.
4. Both options are a positive ending. The Location will remain largely unchained in the immediate future. It is simply a choice between prosperity and protection at the cost of Pthumerian influence versus a difficult, hard and threatened life free of Pthumerian Influence. Neither ending comes with strings attached. This location does NOT need to be the Outpost, but it CAN be the Outpost.
5. If asked why, Hali will appear briefly uncomfortable. It will repeat. “You deserve a choice. You have not had one. I would give you one.”
6. An OOC discussion will be available on where players might be interested in this "New Location" being installed. The Vote is only for the form it will take. Options include Riteior's City, the Outpost or an entirely new location. The Vote this month will decide "What" is being done. A future vote will occur in May on Where it occurs.
7. Hali has no opinion on which characters should choose. If Trenchies are contacted, they are shocked at the possibility of the offer, and they cannot collectively come to a conclusion on what should be done (Though Disciples clearly favor letting Hali bind himself, while Arcane Scholars find the idea of a separated space fascinating.). No Pthumerian will even acknowledge the question, though Bauphomette (if found to inquire) will be seen smirking. Do they look proud?
“It is widely assumed amongst the people of Trench that the Pthumerian known as the Tower is himself bodily the City itself. Past occasions of distress to the Tower have resulted in inconsistencies in the many buildings and districts throughout the city. The Zealots themselves are not the only people who believe this firmly, but are known to have become obsessed with placating and empowering the Tower through the application of blood rituals to transfer life force to the Pthumerian. It is believed that this may be part of why the city has grown to the size that it is, though this is not entirely clear how accurate this is. Nobody in Trench can recall a time when the Tower did not already serve in this capacity, and no Pthumerian is willing to answer questions on the subject.In a hastily scrawled note wedged into the book, an addendum includes the following excerpt.
What is curious about this silence, however, is that nobody knows what the process a Pthumerian or a theoretical half-Pthumerian might use in tying their essence to a community. The ritual is lost to time, and likely to have been a very powerful blood ritual that is a carefully guarded secret of the Pthumerian race. Whispers abound, however, that if a lesser Pthumerian were to seek to bolster a community in the future, it might enable the swifter growth of new territory. Few speak of this possibility, however, because it is feared that to ask for such a thing might invite disaster or displeasure from among the Pthumerians.”
“The existence of Riteior, and their dominance over a city outside of Trench clearly indicates that the Pthumerians hold a ritual that makes it possible to bond with a community, to create a new body. But, based upon the presence of an outpost crafted in recent years, the question remains whether it is possible to maintain a community without the presence and influence of the Pthumerians.”Celebrations over the presumed defeat of Riteior are muted. His disappearance is not something clarified for certain, and many people in Trench are unwilling to risk the assumption that he is gone until it is proven for a length of time. However, the city remains in a state of relative peace. Fewer monsters are seen, and blood corruption seems to have lessened significantly throughout the month. Trenchies throughout the Willful Machine offer pastries for free, all made in the shape of little moths “To honor Argonaut,” though the clever will sense that there seems to be a air of quiet hope that floods the city. It is during this time of peace that you are visited by a Visitor.
The three armed Pthumerian floats just off of the ground. People of Trench bow at the sight of them and excuse themselves reverently. It does not react to anyone except those to whom it is addressing. “Greetings. I am Hali, Child of Bauphomette. I present a proposal.” There is a definite sense of power that flows through you as they speak, their androgynous and emotionally detached voice echoing more in your mind than your ears and you are sure that only those that are being addressed can hear it. Hali's proposal does not come in words, but rather a pair of visions that you are allowed to experience as long as you choose, to be certain of the nature of what is being offered. Both of these visions are of the Outpost outside of the walls of Trench.
The First Vision: You look out from a tower upon the Outpost. The retaining walls, covered in blood wards that conceal the community from the outside world, stand strong and the interior of the structure teems with people of Trench, all of them dressed in bright arrays of color, conducting commerce and trade. Only one new structure has been included in the Outpost itself, a small shrine and temple with a symbol on its gate not unlike the one on Hali's face. It stands between the Barracks and Keep, and Disciples offer bundles of incense from within. What is more outstanding about the sight is seen when you turn to look beyond the walls. You see the forest cleared in all directions, and a second wall constructed a mile away, surrounding what appears to be bustling farmland as far as the eye can see. In the distance, you can see a second barracks, positioned in the middle of the territory, and small stands of communities, the Outpost clearly growing. Behind you, Hali floats, bowing to you once.“You deserve a choice, for what you have done for my people. You will have it.” And you feel that you have a definite choice in this moment.
You know the truth of the vision. Hali is offering to be bound to an object and using the outpost as an example of what is possible. Bound to this object and placed within a community, be it the Outpost or another one, its presence will make that community will become more secure from the outside dangers and blood corruption, growing and flourishing as a light in the darkness and a hope of new growth.
The Second Vision: You see the Outpost again. There are few Trenchies within the city, all of the dressed in dark and muted hues. No outside farms are visible and the woods are as terrifying and treacherous as ever. The Outpost remains strong, but you can see that it struggles to maintain its population. Racks of mushrooms and vegetables grow all along the inside walls of the walls, enough to keep people going though it is a harder life. You feel, however, that there is something very cold and very alone about this place. You look up and you can barely see it. A translucent bubble surrounds the walls of the structure, completely sealing it off and so long as you are here, you realize what it is that you can feel is lacking. You cannot see the moon. When you look down the wall, you see Hali again.
They bow once more, from beyond the nearly invisible barrier, and their offer is once more clear. Hali knows a way to seal a location outside of Trench forever apart from the influence of the Pthumerians, even the Moon Presence. Again, it uses the Outpost as an example because it is a place where the Sleepers have gone to great lengths to be free. Life in such a place will be hard, always hard. Even if it grows beyond its walls, it will be a slow, methodical battle without a Pthumerian's support. However, that place would be forever free of that influence. It would cost Hali dearly, but they seem genuinely willing to give that.
FAQ:
1. This is an IC Vote, 1 Vote per character in the Plot Thread Below.
2. You may play out vision scenes in both versions using the Outpost as an example with other characters. Nobody is in danger within these visions.
3. The options are straightforward: Option One, Hali binds to an object that may be placed in another location. Once bound to that location, Hali will empower it as the Tower does Trench, to enable a new and thriving community with Pthumerian and Trench assistance. Option Two, Hali will reveal a ritual that will create an object that may be placed in another location. Once this is done, no Pthumerian will be able to enter, curse or otherwise intervene in that location. Initially that area would be a region about the size of the current Outpost, and could be increased with a ritual annually, though the process would be very slow and ultimately limited in scope. Doing so would drain Hali of most of their power to create, and so they would enter into seclusion afterwards for a long time.
4. Both options are a positive ending. The Location will remain largely unchained in the immediate future. It is simply a choice between prosperity and protection at the cost of Pthumerian influence versus a difficult, hard and threatened life free of Pthumerian Influence. Neither ending comes with strings attached. This location does NOT need to be the Outpost, but it CAN be the Outpost.
5. If asked why, Hali will appear briefly uncomfortable. It will repeat. “You deserve a choice. You have not had one. I would give you one.”
6. An OOC discussion will be available on where players might be interested in this "New Location" being installed. The Vote is only for the form it will take. Options include Riteior's City, the Outpost or an entirely new location. The Vote this month will decide "What" is being done. A future vote will occur in May on Where it occurs.
7. Hali has no opinion on which characters should choose. If Trenchies are contacted, they are shocked at the possibility of the offer, and they cannot collectively come to a conclusion on what should be done (Though Disciples clearly favor letting Hali bind himself, while Arcane Scholars find the idea of a separated space fascinating.). No Pthumerian will even acknowledge the question, though Bauphomette (if found to inquire) will be seen smirking. Do they look proud?
WHEN: Anytime in April
WHERE: The hinterlands outside of Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Light Body Horror, Monsters, Possible Death, Isolation
WHERE: The hinterlands outside of Trench
CONTENT WARNINGS: Light Body Horror, Monsters, Possible Death, Isolation
In all of the time that you've been in Trench, deer have been one of the constants, the only true protectors. You've seen effigies of them, statues and the like. Someone might have had one as an omen, but somehow you always knew deep down it was an omen, not a “real deer.” People venerate them, and items that are carved from deer antlers seem to last forever, powered by some magic that nobody can describe. Deer are the protectors of Trench, and you can trust them. As important as they are to the community, that fact is almost an importance to the point of reverence.
So, when you are out and enjoying the remarkably pleasant weather that's in town, perhaps you feel the urge to visit the surrounding countryside. Monster sightings are low, so there's no reason to hold yourself back from a little exploring. In fact, by mid-month you see what almost looks like a translucent dome around the city glimmer into life and then fade, and with it you feel an almost unnatural wanderlust. The people of Trench have reached an outpost, have found the city of Riteior. Why not wander a little? Nothing's holding you back, right?
That's when you see one.
The creature is unmistakable when you see it the first time. Albino and pale, with dogwood branches instead of proper antlers, the pink blossoms standing in stark contrast to the elegant appearance of the creature's white fur. It barely seems to notice you at first, but eventually your eyes meet. It's nothing more than a casual glance, but it starts to dart off. The pace is an easy lope, not a startled and fleeing dart. You can still see it in the distance. It's a deer. Deer are the protectors of Trench, the preservers of the dream. Hell, if you were in the nightmare you used to be a deer. Kind of. Why not trust it? And, if you follow the creature, at first everything seems fine. No monsters trouble you at all. The path you take seems completely safe, but gradually the real danger begins to come into focus.
You are lost. You are hopelessly lost, and at some point, the deer simply disappears. The moment that it is gone from sight, you have nothing that you can easily rely on for directions that is not on your person. If you're fortunate enough to have a compass of some kind, especially a magic one you've acquired in your travels, you might eventually get back but with the setting of the sun, you can tell you've been traveling for hours. The woods this far out are no longer safe. There are howls of monsters and snarls of beasts in the distance. Nothing has sought you out, not yet anyway, but the undergrowth snaps loudly under your feet to your ears. It is getting dark and light might attract attention, but in the darkness you can feel the lack of sureness in the ground. Worse, you hear the faint sounds of rushing water nearby. There's a waterfall somewhere, which means there's also a cliff. Do you dare try and remain in the darkness, alone? Does someone find you in the midst of your distress? Why did the deer lead you into the middle of nowhere like this?
A short time after you start moving again, you will find your answers at least. You feel something odd against your boot, and looking down you see them. Bones. Deer bones. A deer, long ago, died in this place and by the fact that you see an arrow sticking out of its skull, its killer was a mortal Sleeper. What you do at this point is up to you. In the wilderness, demonic wildlife abound, each of them hungry and territorial by nature. They are dangerous, feral and powerful in a fight, but they can be avoided or defeated even if they almost seem to be trying to herd people that they find in one direction. The growing rush warns of the danger as much as anything, the creatures intent on sending any sleepers they attack either to their death over the cliff's face in the dark or at the end of their claws!
Should an effort be made to try and put the deer's spirit to rest, it is not easy, and there is no clear solution. Prayers, magic, blood rituals, a proper burial, all of these are ideas. However, you are in uncharted territory and perhaps you will put it at peace, or perhaps the creature will continue to haunt this place. You cannot say for sure. However, any effort to give peace to the long dead creature does at least seem to come with the benefit that no monsters draw near until sunrise, giving at least daylight to try and escape. You just have to survive in this place. Alone. Only the sounds of the wild will accompany you.
FAQ: 1. If asked afterwards about the white deer, it takes a while, but some of the oldest Trenchies recall stories of an old wive's tale, that if you see a white deer in the woods at night, it was a sign of eminent death. However, none of seen such a thing in years.
2. It is not possible to know for sure if the deer's spirit is put to rest if you attempt. It does not make contact a second time. However, anyone who puts it to rest is not harassed by it a second time.
3. To head off a question that is likely, it is possible for those with powers to communicate with monstrous beasts in the woods. They are feral to the point of madness, but can be cowed to submission if you have power to do so. Though they will not enter the city of Trench, it is possible to maintain a connection (again, if your character has the power to do so) and encounter ONE such creature from this event in the future.
So, when you are out and enjoying the remarkably pleasant weather that's in town, perhaps you feel the urge to visit the surrounding countryside. Monster sightings are low, so there's no reason to hold yourself back from a little exploring. In fact, by mid-month you see what almost looks like a translucent dome around the city glimmer into life and then fade, and with it you feel an almost unnatural wanderlust. The people of Trench have reached an outpost, have found the city of Riteior. Why not wander a little? Nothing's holding you back, right?
That's when you see one.
The creature is unmistakable when you see it the first time. Albino and pale, with dogwood branches instead of proper antlers, the pink blossoms standing in stark contrast to the elegant appearance of the creature's white fur. It barely seems to notice you at first, but eventually your eyes meet. It's nothing more than a casual glance, but it starts to dart off. The pace is an easy lope, not a startled and fleeing dart. You can still see it in the distance. It's a deer. Deer are the protectors of Trench, the preservers of the dream. Hell, if you were in the nightmare you used to be a deer. Kind of. Why not trust it? And, if you follow the creature, at first everything seems fine. No monsters trouble you at all. The path you take seems completely safe, but gradually the real danger begins to come into focus.
You are lost. You are hopelessly lost, and at some point, the deer simply disappears. The moment that it is gone from sight, you have nothing that you can easily rely on for directions that is not on your person. If you're fortunate enough to have a compass of some kind, especially a magic one you've acquired in your travels, you might eventually get back but with the setting of the sun, you can tell you've been traveling for hours. The woods this far out are no longer safe. There are howls of monsters and snarls of beasts in the distance. Nothing has sought you out, not yet anyway, but the undergrowth snaps loudly under your feet to your ears. It is getting dark and light might attract attention, but in the darkness you can feel the lack of sureness in the ground. Worse, you hear the faint sounds of rushing water nearby. There's a waterfall somewhere, which means there's also a cliff. Do you dare try and remain in the darkness, alone? Does someone find you in the midst of your distress? Why did the deer lead you into the middle of nowhere like this?
A short time after you start moving again, you will find your answers at least. You feel something odd against your boot, and looking down you see them. Bones. Deer bones. A deer, long ago, died in this place and by the fact that you see an arrow sticking out of its skull, its killer was a mortal Sleeper. What you do at this point is up to you. In the wilderness, demonic wildlife abound, each of them hungry and territorial by nature. They are dangerous, feral and powerful in a fight, but they can be avoided or defeated even if they almost seem to be trying to herd people that they find in one direction. The growing rush warns of the danger as much as anything, the creatures intent on sending any sleepers they attack either to their death over the cliff's face in the dark or at the end of their claws!
Should an effort be made to try and put the deer's spirit to rest, it is not easy, and there is no clear solution. Prayers, magic, blood rituals, a proper burial, all of these are ideas. However, you are in uncharted territory and perhaps you will put it at peace, or perhaps the creature will continue to haunt this place. You cannot say for sure. However, any effort to give peace to the long dead creature does at least seem to come with the benefit that no monsters draw near until sunrise, giving at least daylight to try and escape. You just have to survive in this place. Alone. Only the sounds of the wild will accompany you.
FAQ: 1. If asked afterwards about the white deer, it takes a while, but some of the oldest Trenchies recall stories of an old wive's tale, that if you see a white deer in the woods at night, it was a sign of eminent death. However, none of seen such a thing in years.
2. It is not possible to know for sure if the deer's spirit is put to rest if you attempt. It does not make contact a second time. However, anyone who puts it to rest is not harassed by it a second time.
3. To head off a question that is likely, it is possible for those with powers to communicate with monstrous beasts in the woods. They are feral to the point of madness, but can be cowed to submission if you have power to do so. Though they will not enter the city of Trench, it is possible to maintain a connection (again, if your character has the power to do so) and encounter ONE such creature from this event in the future.
WHEN: Any time in April
WHERE: Riteior's City for one part, the Salt Lake for the other
CONTENT WARNINGS: Induced Madness, Violent Tendencies, Blood, Hallucinations, Beasthood
WHERE: Riteior's City for one part, the Salt Lake for the other
CONTENT WARNINGS: Induced Madness, Violent Tendencies, Blood, Hallucinations, Beasthood
The spirit of exploration is upon all in Trench. A fog seems to be lifted from this point onward, and nothing holds people back from the urge to explore, other than of course the possibility of monsters and beastly creatures trying to eat you. But, this is Trench. When has that ever stopped you? On the eighth of April, the reason for this newfound freedom becomes far clearer. In the distance, along the direction towards the far-flung city of Riteior, a great and colossal light can be seen. There is a roar of impotent, unbridled and incomprehensible rage that flows outwards. It washes over an unseen barrier in Trench, causing the air to shimmer, to hold and then to fade back to normal. Seconds later, there is another sound, like breaking and shattering glass. Everything shudders. Your soul shudders. Reality shudders. And then there is silence, and you feel an absolute sense of peace descend upon you and you know the truth. A great evil has been sealed away, hopefully never to return again.
For some in Trench, this is occasion to celebrate. The partying is muted. Pthumerians are recovered, but the scars of their disease are still felt. However, a bonfire is held before the salt lake on the week of the 15th. Food and fellowship are had. Tents are set up, and no monsters are seen anywhere around the healing waters. The drinks flow, and the refreshments are plentiful. Even better is the fact that the people of Trench seem to have gotten the idea that sometimes Sleepers don't like something being slipped into the food and drink. There is absolutely nothing whatsoever wrong with the food. No additives. The only strangeness that may be experienced is that, if you stare long into the fire with someone, you may be treated to visions of your home, of your past similar to the events of Wonderkind, though always nostalgic and pleasant ones.
However, that's far from the only thing going on. The moment that Riteior is defeated, a call goes up among the Hunters of the City to retake the city of Riteior for Trench. Intrepid souls, particularly Sleepers, are invited to seek out and conquest the silent city (Details of the city are found here) as it has no sleepers or population within it. The goal of this journey is to get a Lantern Location or two established within, with the intent of that serving as a bulwark to eventually re-establish the community and draw a new Pthumerian to bind themselves to it. The journey is a week long without technological or magical flight, but other than the possibility of feral wildlife, it is a relatively peaceful, even boring one. It's when you reach the city that everything begins to go wrong.
The first thing you will notice in the city is that there are no longer any whispers from unseen corners. Additionally, the portal to the other Trench is closed, leaving only a desolate, crumbling ruin where Riteior's church once stood. You are truly alone in this place. It seems fine, if quiet, and setting down a Lantern Location is deceptively easy (provided you have one, perhaps through holding onto it, or the Moss King's games last month, or even bargaining for one with the Hunters of Trench in return for service). However, within an hour of entering the city, you know something is wrong. You begin to feel sick to your stomach and paranoia starts to set in. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see blood starting to drip down the walls as far as the eye can see. The world shudders around you, and waves of nausea collect. Even worse, however, is that you can practically feel your skin crawl as the symptoms of corruption start to settle in and you taste copper on your tongue, almost like there is blood on the air. That is because there is. Riteior's Blood.
His last laugh, and his last act of vengeance, Riteior's blood drained into the ground of the city that he was part of. Sealed away, he can do nothing more, but some Pthumerian blood is far too potent for mortal minds to deal with. Corruption leeches into anyone who remains in the city during this month at an alarming rate, rising from stage to stage over the course of hours. No amount of incense can stop it. Salt water blessed by the moon and Moon Drops are temporary fixes, but the symptoms simply resume. With corruption, madness and beasthood threaten to disrupt the proceedings, as you the conqueror are beset by an urge to fight and to kill. Riteior's Blood will fade soon, but to those so bold as to explore to the very prison of a god, a toll will be paid.
FAQ: 1. Corruption and Beasthood are very rare in the Outpost and Trench at this time, and with low monster presence, business and celebrations occur with almost unusual levels of peace. It is a time of brief reprieve in the city of Trench. 2. The primary threat here is corruption, and that only applies within the boundary of Riteior's City. Anyone who remains for an hour will begin to experience the first stages of corruption, and within 3 hours they will reach the point of full beasthood. Though this can be cured through the usual methods, the corruptive Pthumerian Blood will continue to be a problem until they leave the city and get it cleansed elsewhere.
3. Nothing can prevent this from happening if you are in the city of Riteior. The longer you remain, the more corruption you experience. Exploring deeper to decipher the cause of problems or helping to set up bulwarks and defenses only exposes you to danger as long as you remain.
4. Beast-transformed Trench Hunters can be faced and may take whatever monstrous form you wish.
5. Death is obviously possible in this event.
6. Riteior's blood will fade away and lose its potency within a month. As the next lunar cycle of Trench starts and the Wild Moon ends, his influence will be felt no more in this world. This process can't be sped up, but spiritually aware characters may realize that the effect is temporary and fading.
7. Lantern Locations may now be set up in Riteior's Former City.
8. In the future, though not immediate future, a Lesser Pthumerian will likely take over this city from Riteior's influence.
For some in Trench, this is occasion to celebrate. The partying is muted. Pthumerians are recovered, but the scars of their disease are still felt. However, a bonfire is held before the salt lake on the week of the 15th. Food and fellowship are had. Tents are set up, and no monsters are seen anywhere around the healing waters. The drinks flow, and the refreshments are plentiful. Even better is the fact that the people of Trench seem to have gotten the idea that sometimes Sleepers don't like something being slipped into the food and drink. There is absolutely nothing whatsoever wrong with the food. No additives. The only strangeness that may be experienced is that, if you stare long into the fire with someone, you may be treated to visions of your home, of your past similar to the events of Wonderkind, though always nostalgic and pleasant ones.
However, that's far from the only thing going on. The moment that Riteior is defeated, a call goes up among the Hunters of the City to retake the city of Riteior for Trench. Intrepid souls, particularly Sleepers, are invited to seek out and conquest the silent city (Details of the city are found here) as it has no sleepers or population within it. The goal of this journey is to get a Lantern Location or two established within, with the intent of that serving as a bulwark to eventually re-establish the community and draw a new Pthumerian to bind themselves to it. The journey is a week long without technological or magical flight, but other than the possibility of feral wildlife, it is a relatively peaceful, even boring one. It's when you reach the city that everything begins to go wrong.
The first thing you will notice in the city is that there are no longer any whispers from unseen corners. Additionally, the portal to the other Trench is closed, leaving only a desolate, crumbling ruin where Riteior's church once stood. You are truly alone in this place. It seems fine, if quiet, and setting down a Lantern Location is deceptively easy (provided you have one, perhaps through holding onto it, or the Moss King's games last month, or even bargaining for one with the Hunters of Trench in return for service). However, within an hour of entering the city, you know something is wrong. You begin to feel sick to your stomach and paranoia starts to set in. Out of the corner of your eyes, you can see blood starting to drip down the walls as far as the eye can see. The world shudders around you, and waves of nausea collect. Even worse, however, is that you can practically feel your skin crawl as the symptoms of corruption start to settle in and you taste copper on your tongue, almost like there is blood on the air. That is because there is. Riteior's Blood.
His last laugh, and his last act of vengeance, Riteior's blood drained into the ground of the city that he was part of. Sealed away, he can do nothing more, but some Pthumerian blood is far too potent for mortal minds to deal with. Corruption leeches into anyone who remains in the city during this month at an alarming rate, rising from stage to stage over the course of hours. No amount of incense can stop it. Salt water blessed by the moon and Moon Drops are temporary fixes, but the symptoms simply resume. With corruption, madness and beasthood threaten to disrupt the proceedings, as you the conqueror are beset by an urge to fight and to kill. Riteior's Blood will fade soon, but to those so bold as to explore to the very prison of a god, a toll will be paid.
FAQ: 1. Corruption and Beasthood are very rare in the Outpost and Trench at this time, and with low monster presence, business and celebrations occur with almost unusual levels of peace. It is a time of brief reprieve in the city of Trench. 2. The primary threat here is corruption, and that only applies within the boundary of Riteior's City. Anyone who remains for an hour will begin to experience the first stages of corruption, and within 3 hours they will reach the point of full beasthood. Though this can be cured through the usual methods, the corruptive Pthumerian Blood will continue to be a problem until they leave the city and get it cleansed elsewhere.
3. Nothing can prevent this from happening if you are in the city of Riteior. The longer you remain, the more corruption you experience. Exploring deeper to decipher the cause of problems or helping to set up bulwarks and defenses only exposes you to danger as long as you remain.
4. Beast-transformed Trench Hunters can be faced and may take whatever monstrous form you wish.
5. Death is obviously possible in this event.
6. Riteior's blood will fade away and lose its potency within a month. As the next lunar cycle of Trench starts and the Wild Moon ends, his influence will be felt no more in this world. This process can't be sped up, but spiritually aware characters may realize that the effect is temporary and fading.
7. Lantern Locations may now be set up in Riteior's Former City.
8. In the future, though not immediate future, a Lesser Pthumerian will likely take over this city from Riteior's influence.
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if anything, she feels the closest thing to pity.
makima does not feel the need to smile as punctually as she was once taught. no, it doesn't . . . feel like she was taught anything. it feels as if she has been reborn, an innocent thing without a lick of evil in her being.
when she speaks to sharon, it's just as if they aren't listening to each other. they aren't speaking the same language. rather, makima knows what sharon is trying to express. she just simply thinks this cornered animal doesn't understand her, and isn't that right? ]
Good girl . . . Such a good girl. [ she sees a startled human being. so complex, but so very loved. sharon backs away from her, but makima steps forward, connecting her index fingers and thumbs into a square that is raised to the eyes on her face. her skin prickles. its hot. but at the same time, she doesn't feel a thing. what was feeling, to begin with? ] It's all going to be okay.
[ all she has to do . . . is subdue her. conquer her. have her accept a leash that wants the best for her. a firm hand, gentle discipline— or, euthanasia, if she is a hopeless biter.
the moment makima blinks a single eye looking through her handmade "lense", their grounds distort. darkblood seeps from her pores and from her nostrils, and even then she does not feel fatigued. she's so far from that— their reality glitches. the visual dances of fire on wood crackling behind sharon in spots that make little sense. the church is upside down, then it isn't. fire forgets to rise, and swirls into itself instead. building walls look stuck in the air from afar. clouds only spread until a certain point. leaves walk away.
chains hang from the floor, and rise to the sky as if gravity has switched places— but makima and sharon haven't. ]
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this wasn't the makima she knew (of course it wasn't, dumbass, she's corrupted).
when the dark blood begins to drip from her pores, the wild, fruity odor overwhelms the scent of heat, ash, and burning. reality trips on itself and, almost instinctively, like a cornered dog lashing out in fear, she tries to throw makima backward telekinetically, as far from her as she can. desperate to disrupt her.]
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and away she goes, a spotted grain of sand in the horizon . . . ? but reality doesn't behave the way it should. the flat horizon line bends, arcs into a sphere until their battleground has no beginning and no end— it felt akin to a fishbowl. the rest is black. the rest of the world doesn't exist (it does, but not within the little pocket makima has created for them). from how she was thrown, makima comes around just like the loop-de-loop of a rollercoaster making it back to the station— she, and her many eyes behind her, float. ]
Clever girl. [ she points her finger at the woman soaked in corruption, and with a childish grin, she says: ] Sit.
[ the body may wish to heed her command, but does the mind? ]
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when the other woman points at her, sharon bares her teeth. rabid. angry. but then, she says that: sit. her body goes stiff and she quivers, hands shaking, before she growls out ] Fuck you. I'm not one of your shitty little mutts. [ as she speaks, fire blossoms in the air. barbed wires come to life like floating, glowing white-hot snakes. she sends it all towards makima. she fills the air with heat.
all she wants to do is rip makima apart and roast the leftovers. maybe feed them to her fucking dogs. ]
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makima could control her reactions to pain, seemingly dulled and unbothered most of the time, but she can't stop herself from feeling. she can't stop her body from crumbling after too many hits, and she no longer has the japanese government to transfer her wounds, or her deaths. she keeps them in trench. the barbed wires come for her, one snaking for her torso and piercing her rib.
(five. six.)
she flicks her wrist and finger, diverting the second wire's momentum and barely winding another whip from snagging her neck. instead, it rips a cut through her cheek all the way to the base of her ear. her darkblood scatters like a burst of thrown glitter and hangs with a strip of her flesh that was once still sticking to her face.
(seven.)
she aims a fingerbang at sharon— and fires. ]
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makima aims and sharon's expression twists in confusion before her abdomen explodes in a spray of blackened coldblood and flesh. the wound is too deep, too wide, and even as her coldblood solidifies and staunches the flow, she sways on her feet. she coughs and then she screams. the fire grows out of control as if in direct response to her sudden injury. it gets hotter. grows more wild. rises up high as if to swallow the world. parts of the earth beneath their feet grow red hot.
her eyelids flutter as her body grows uncomfortably, painfully hot. her skin begins to bubble, blisters forming quickly, popping and oozing before her skin peels away layer by layer. the smell of burning flesh and hair permeates the air as her pale, ashen skin turns red and then, finally, blackens.
she lets out one final choking laugh as her flesh begins to split like a cocoon. white wings emerge first, stuck gently together like a newborn butterfly, but soon the rest of this new her comes forth, long white arms and thin fingers peeling the rest of her old body away. she allows her old flesh to slough to the ground as if she were undressing.
the beast rises up, body long and white and fresh, though she's spotted with what looks to be deep, bloody wounds around her breasts and her thighs, flesh hanging loosely. her wings stretch. flap. and then her arms spread wide as she begins to float, her legs, conjoined, just barely brushing the ground.
the discarded flesh begins to burn and the ground begins to smoke in a perfect circle around this angelic form. makima may find, if she looks too long at this creature, herself blinded for thirty seconds as if she has spent too long staring directly at the sun.
slowly, it begins to drift in makima's direction and the burning follows her, grass catching fire. ]
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she must have her. at all costs, she must have her. surely, the gaze of pursuit she gives the hovering creature has gone on long and unblinking for too long. whiteness blinds her vision— and it's with a fair amount of blinks that fails to help her case that she says, with the adventurous crack of a dangerous grin: ]
Come, then.
[ her head dips, but reality bends to her whim— and many eyes open and close from within their burning vicinity. makima waits in her spot to get a better aim at the beast before that eye burns out of existence, and then that one, and so on. what shall she do with her—
it depends on how much of her own body burns. she aim her fingers again, but she needs a better view at a better angle. her hairs begin to curl back, her skin gets so hot it starts to seer— but makima has yet to move with the boils forming, and growing into harsh raw patches. ]
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this is her only reason for being.
she holds her arms out, her palms up, reaching to makima and the sky above and her many eyes. the air around her is so hot it's cold. the nerves don't recognize this temperature. it is a heat nothing should ever know and provides a pain that burns itself into the very soul.
through her, death. through death, rebirth. through rebirth, paradise. ]
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and inside would the beast’s uncontrollable heart rage, batter and break free without trouble. he lips go wet and stained from the darkblood that flows from her nose like smoke. the skin from her arms peel and curl at an alarming pace— the heat is spreading her down to raw flesh, until that too begins to blacken.
again, she beckons her, and again, her body objects with the sputter of blood from her mouth.
she places her true eyes away, but aims her pointed finger, blasting and melting from nailtip to knuckles, and fires for the graceful movement upon the beast’s back with muddled aim that lacks the best of precision. ]
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the flayed flesh of her thighs rips and tears against the ground. heated stones press into her fin. but, still, she does not stop. she is drawn to makima like a moth to the flame. nothing can stop her. she must reach life and give it death. ]
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blood squeezes from her organs and spits from her lips and stains the collar of her burning clothes. if her skin wasn’t slipping off her bones like loose, watery slabs, than they surely felt like they were close to.
she holds her hands out to beckon the beast, looks upon her one more time in the beauty’s burning fever— and before her eyes lose their focus, she fires twice: the remaining wing, and the creature’s heart. ]
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and then her chest erupts. for the first time, she lets out something of a strangled cry; a wail of grief that devolves into a soft, choking gurgle. she tries to keep going but her body has begun to fail. wilt. her shoulders droop as pieces of her fall out before her; bits of bone and chunks of red, wet flesh. she cannot pull herself along any further. she was spent. she was dying. a final wet whimper escapes her pale lips and stains them and the ground before her a brilliant ruby before she falls forward. still reaching.
and the hellish, choking heat fades. ]
a wrap...... :)
it seeps from every pore and orifice of the devil's body, making her dark like blueberries and shimmering like party decorations. makima can feel herself wanting to raise her brows, but she may not have too much of them left. a half-lipless face contorts into a smile but deep within her . . .
she is disappointed. it has ended so soon, and has ended in such a way she finds herself dissatisfied with, even if she did come in to win and set a collar to the beast's neck. now, her dog is dead, and before long she too tumbles into a puddle like mercury and glitter. she can barely breathe. her lungs— liquiefied. there is nothing to make this better. there is no contract to take this pain and suffering away. there are no pawns to transfer her death to.
it was . . . beautiful. in her nebulous memory of who she was and where she came from— she feels something. she reveres this moment. she has never felt it quite so willingly. the last time . . .
(was there a last time?)
she was so weak she let it happen.
now this— this, she hopes to see again, with her strength at its highest, when there is nothing wrong about her. she will think this upon her healing bedrest, but until then— she pulls something from within her that makes her nearly vacant ruby eyes twitch. she garbles and drowns, but she reaches out: