deercountry | All men must die, but first he must live.

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All men must die, but first he must live.

SEPTEMBER 2021 EVENT

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE
Prompt One
[Image One: Woman holding skull in bag. ]
[Image Two: Plants sprouting out of earth.]

Prompt Two
[Image One: Woman rocking back and forth in dark.]
[Image Two: Woman rowing down river with corpses on stakes on horizon.]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Beef cake man breaking arrows off of shield with a sword.]
[Image Two: Beefy man slamming axe into troll-like creature, spraying blood.]

[NAVIGATION]

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

[JUMP TO COMMENTS]

GROWING PAINS

WHEN: September
WHERE: Everywhere
CONTENT WARNINGS: Minor blood ritual.

September, for many in Trench, is considered a month of personal sacrifice. It is the month of self-actualization and promise. To grow your future, you must first be willing to sacrifice your past. You cannot walk forwards while walking backward. All throughout Trench, natives can be seen in yards and on plots of land digging small holes and planting a variety of items. Some plant seeds, some drop in a ring, others bury small parts of a body. But the ritual is simple: bury something that represents your past and seal it with a promise for your future.

You can write yourself a note or cut off a lock of your own hair. The ways in which people do this are limitless since it's a largely personal experience. Find a small patch of soil and dig yourself a shallow hole. Bury the item inside, say goodbye to who you used to be, and cover the item up with dirt. Once you are done, you must shed at least one drop of blood onto the sacrifice. It must be your own blood willingly given. Once the blood hits the soil, a small flower will miraculously grow out of the earth within seconds.

A single, powerless flower, but this flower will be completely immortal. You can either keep it on the patch of land or dig it up and bring it home. The flower will be a representation of your progress in Trench: if its petals wilt, you are lingering too much in the past. If it is in full bloom and vibrant, you're on the right path to a better future. If the flower starts to rot, you're heading down a dangerous path.

The flower may not be able to sway you one way or another, but it may serve as a valuable reminder of the kind of life you wish to lead. Some people abandon the flowers entirely and never bother with them. After all, there are no real consequences if you let the flower rot. If a character is dropped, their flower will fleck away like dust. Many believe that the flowers are made of the same stuff omens are made of.

You can dig up other people's flowers and watch their progress (make sure to get player permission) instead. After all, not everyone will care enough about their own flowers to really observe them closely. The flowers can come in any species or size, even fictional flowers, but they will only be replicas. Meaning if your character's flower is typically used for healing, there will be no healing properties in this replica. The flowers cannot be destroyed.

Many natives in Trench will repeat this ritual a few times every couple of years since the ritual is for letting go of the past. After all, the promises you make to yourself now won't be the same promises you make to yourself ten years from now. People change and so too will their flowers. What the characters bury is largely open to interpretation.

RIVER OF REGRET

WHEN: September
WHERE: Some obscure location within Gaze
CONTENT WARNINGS: Mangled corpses of loved ones, birds eating corpses, themes of regret.

You will find raven feathers all over Trench. They may drift through the air, lightly touch you, or you might decide to pick one up. The moment you come into physical contact with a feather, a conspiracy of ravens tears through the air and scoops you up into a whirlwind of feathers and caws. It only lasts a few seconds before you're deposited into a canoe drifting along a still river. Another Sleeper is in the boat with you. You pass beneath massive stone walls carved into the likeness of Never Mind and his ravens.

The world is silent around you. There is no rain here. Instead, sunlight pours through breaks in the clouds. Sunlight dapples across the water and golden-red leaves of nearby trees. It's more serene than most places in Trench.

You turn a corner and smell it before you see it. The picturesque summer day is dampened by the stench of rot. Then you come upon them: corpses. Corpses tied up to posts with barbed wire, corpses put through spikes and suspended in the air. Ravens flutter to and fro, picking at strips of meat. It isn't until you're close enough that you realize you recognize the corpses.

They are the corpses of people you have hurt. And that doesn't just mean people you killed or physically harmed. These are the bodies of people you have deep regrets towards: a lover you wronged, a best friend you lied to, an enemy you wish you had forgiven. Not everything is as black and white as murder, after all, and this grisly graveyard of mangled bodies says as much. Sometimes our regrets haunt us like the dead, and it seems like yours have followed you to Trench. You might even see your own body up on a post or the body of your canoe companions.

You have one of two choices: ignore your regret or face it.
Choosing to ignore your regrets doesn't seem to have any ill consequences at first. You pass by the corpses and continue on your river voyage. But the water grows thicker, and you come across the same corpses only in a worse state. The situation gets progressively worse each time you ignore it, and the river gradually becomes a river of blood and gore. The stench becomes insufferable and you will become increasingly corrupt. Some may even turn into beasts right there on the river.

Facing your regrets means talking about them, even mildly, to your canoe companions. You simply need to acknowledge the corpses, acknowledge the slightest truth to your feelings towards those regrets. When everyone in your canoe has acknowledged their regrets, the ravens will come for you once more. You will be brought back to Trench and awaken in the School of Mutter. Those who faced their regrets will discover that they have been gifted a white gold compass. The compass's needle will always point in the direction of the nearest Lamp Friend no matter the chaos going on in the world. But the compass only works once you have calmed down and focused.

QUICK FACTS

1. Each boat can hold up to 4 people. There can be multiple canoes in the same area.

2. If you try to leave the boat, you will drown in the River of Regret.

3. This does not have to encompass every regret someone's had. It can only represent one or two things. The regret should have to do with another individual or one's self. Something like "I regret not going to college" wouldn't necessarily work within the parameters of the prompt.

4. The river can only be accessed by touching a fallen raven feather. Touching a raven feather attached to the bird or a quill does not count.

5. Characters can engage with this prompt as many times as they touch a raven feather.

6. Characters with no regrets will not see corpses, but they will still be able to interact with characters who do have regrets.

BLOODSPORT

WHEN: During the Blood Moon
WHERE: Everywhere but specifically, The Gate
CONTENT WARNINGS: Violence, fighting, forced aggression/violence, forced fighting.

The Blood Moon invokes religious reverence among Trenchies. September and October are the ultimate months of sacrifice to pay tribute to the gods and the blood that rules this world. An energy begins to swell among Trenchies and you keep hearing the same word whispered excitedly around the city: "Bloodsport."

As the Blood Moon floods the streets in red, you begin to feel antsy, like you don't know what to do with yourself. You're not necessarily angry, you just have an abundance of energy. You don't need to be told what it is: your blood is reacting to the moon. The Blood Moon enhances blood powers significantly and you're simply not used to that yet. You don't feel in control of your own power or maybe even your own mind. At least until you exert some power, some force. Slam a door shut or swing a sword, shoot some electricity or spit some poison and you'll feel at peace with yourself. That nervous energy will ease out.

Only to come back twice as strong. It starts to put you in a real fighting mood and you start to realize why the locals call this Bloodsport. Hunting down beasts and monsters might seem like the fun thing to do right now, but the real attraction for Bloodsport takes place at The Gate. You can hear the roaring crowd blocks away. Hundreds of Trenchies have settled in to watch Sleepers duke it out with each other or with locked-up monsters. Maybe join in the fight. At least you know the other Sleepers there want to be there...Right?

Unfortunately not. Those who resist Bloodsport will find themselves passing out more and more frequently. Eventually, they will be taken by Mysterious Forces to The Gate to be pitted against other Sleepers and monsters. Some Sleepers will be forced into a gladiator-style fight that they either must win or die trying. Most fights at the Gate do end in death, but there are some circumstances where someone surrenders. Of course, that never stops their opponent from killing them anyway...Hopefully, you're fighting someone who is still relatively reasonable. Both parties can be resistant to fighting, but they will feel obligated to fight each other. If they don't, monsters will be unleashed into the arena and your situation will get a whole lot worse.

Bloodsport can greatly enhance a Sleeper's ability and many believe it is a gift from the Pthumerian gods. It is generally considered an advantage to Sleepers during the Season of Blood to prepare them and train them to hone their skills for the Season of Bone. Many believe it is wisest to submit to Bloodsport and let yourself get used to the motions of violence in order to survive the remainder of the year.

QUICK FACTS

1. Casual physical training will alleviate Bloodsport feelings. You could get through the month just by jogging around a lot.

2. Characters forced to the Gate will not remember how or when they arrived - they will just wake up and be thrown into the Gate by some shadowy force.

3. Characters who willingly participate in violence/fighting will feel temporary relief from Bloodsport only for the feeling to increase.

4. Effects of Bloodsport last as long as the Blood Moon shines through September and October.

5. You can treat symptoms of Bloodsport with calming techniques such as aromatherapy, meditation, medications, etc. Can be based on what would ICly help calm your character but it should require a lot of it.

6. You can invent the monsters/beasts that are at the Gate. They should be killable creatures and easily captured for the purpose of the Gate.

CODING

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.
( 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦. )

( 𝐜𝐰: 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 )

[ Constantine watches the goings-on of the people of Trench with interest for the first little while. How they act, how they move, what they do in their daily lives. It isn't all that different from the world he comes from if that was imbued with blood magic and the sick scent of it seeping into everything. Never mind the old town look and feel to it.

While he doesn't trust it all at face value given all he's been witness to in Deerington, the ritual has piqued his interest. It isn't until he's seen a successful few from multiple people through the town that he decides it's time to do a little more than stare holes. A quick bit of chatting gets him more information and once he's satisfied with what he can gather, he goes off on his own to find a patch of dirt unattached to a garden already used and in a relatively unbusy area.

Kneeling down to dig out a portion of the earth in his hands, he stays settled back on his haunches for a moment as he considers. He's brought a small pot with him to transfer the bloom over after but he hadn't quite settled on just what he should go about putting into the dirt. A few moments of silence pass before John shifts enough to dig out a pocket knife from his trouser pocket, flicking it open and reaching up to cut off a lock of hair near one temple and drop it in. ]

Per terram infra et in sanguine interiori hanc oblationem suscipe. Renati.

[ After the words are spoken, he takes the knife to his palm, slicing it and letting quickly freezing drops fall from his closed fist. Once he's satisfied there is enough, he drags out a small bit of fabric from his coat pocket to wrap the wound then fills in the hole dug into the soil. It isn't long after that the earth begins to give way, sprouting up toward the open air. It's a white flower with a singular red stripe down one petal.

Though there looks as if there is a bud attached further down the stem that was trying to bloom yet failed to. Strange. ]

𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭.
( 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘮 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯. )

( 𝐜𝐰: 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 )

[ A raven feather in one's path symbolizes angels bearing messages. John's never been overly enamored with the general idea. Angels are wankers at best. Cryptic and largely unhelpful. Chip on the shoulder that rivals the actual Almighty. Is it a wonder that Lucifer fell?

He's content to ignore them until the moment comes that one lands directly on his shoulder. Ready to brush it off, he's dragged away in a whirlwind of feathers the second his fingers touch it. Balance upset by the shift and suddenly finding himself somewhere wholly new, he grabs out for the edges of the boat to stop the impromptu rocking.]

Oh bloody hell, I hate it when that happens.

[ Teeth gritting, he lets himself settle when it's clear a ride-along is apparently what the next order of business is. Lovely. He enjoys starting off his stay in Trench with a kidnapping. Fantastic. ]

If anyone suggests singing Row your Boat or anything I'm putting us all in the water.

[ Look. He just wants to be clear where he stands with all this. Then it gets worse. Loads worse.

The scent hits him before anything else. Do this job long enough and it's easier to pick up on than the good things. Hard to remember what clean linen and the like smells of when finding a whole house full of mangled bodies. It isn't the smell that does his head in though.

It's who it emanates from that sets his stomach roiling and leaving him feeling like he's going to heave up. Natalie. Astra as a child engulfed in blue flames. Thomas Constantine stabbed to death. Chas in smoking pieces littered about, head flopped against what might've been his torso and staring at him: resigned yet accusing. Gaz with markings carved into his face from the kusa knife, skin so hollow and tight it's almost translucent, mouth agape with bugs flitting out. Zed. Corrigan. Desmond. Sara. Oliver.

It goes on and on.

The Legends. Herc staring with holes where his eyes should be. Luna watching with pupils blown wide. Peter twisted and broken. The scent grows and John's jaw clenches tight enough to hurt, teeth grinding with it. He doesn't close his eyes but he doesn't so much acknowledge it either. This is just part and parcel of his daily life. A reminder of how he ruins everything he touches.

A promise of what is to come no matter how he tries to do better. Be better. A whisper: you'll never be clean, Johnny. The river turns foul and gurgles, red and frothy. ]

Right, sure. What is it with both places wanting us spilling our guts? Want to hear how much of a bastard I am, is that it?

( 𝐨𝐫. )

[ Facing his regrets wasn't easy. Just because he stared at them head-on doesn't mean they don't still follow him. His ghosts will trail behind him, nipping at his coattails until the day he dies and his soul is delivered to Hell. Sure, he's got the chit to his soul firmly in hand but how long will that really last?

This place isn't puppy dogs and rainbows and sooner or later he'll cock it up. He always does. Then it's back on the road to damnation. May as well accept it for what it is. Still, it takes him a moment after being deposited back in the city to get his bearings and rise up to his feet.

John lets his focus rest on the compass in hand instead of what just went down, turning this way and that cause it most certainly isn't pointing to true north. He catches someone in his periphery and sighs inwardly: ]

If you're looking for a group hug or some more share time I'm fresh out of warm fuzzy feelings to go around.

[ Unless you're one of his kids, at least. Or maybe one of the other few friends he's got around town. He raises the compass up. ]

You come away with one of these as well?

𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭.
( 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘦'𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. )

[ The whispers of bloodsport are all over the city. There's a thrumming and almost electric feeling that keeps John alert and unable to sleep. When it does come it is in abortive fits and spurts and doesn't last long. He tries to sneak out of bed without waking Herc when it is at its worst.

Most of the time, he keeps to himself at their place. Other times he goes out to find something, anything to do. He's done a spell that proves the old shop is here somewhere but he hasn't been able to find it. It doesn't stop him from looking, though.

For now, though, he's found a place to clear out and start to knock the dust and cobwebs out of. It's not much but it's got a good feel to it. He's in the process of setting up warding. When he isn't doing that he can be found inside with incense and some candles, sitting cross-legged on the floor to meditate. Or maybe you happen upon him when he's practicing yoga. He'll even offer to teach anyone who stops by out of curiosity.

Even still, maybe you've found him with some of the roses that were left by the Moon Presence that he's drying out to make use of in some other way. Maybe come and keep him company? Or try to knock him out so he will actually sleep. Either way, he's just trying to keep busy.

The bell goes but he doesn't look up: ]

Be right over. Give us a mo, will you?

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐝.
( 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵. )

( do you have a different route for things in mind? i’m easy, hit me up @ silkcuts for plotting or toss something in here. )

[Ah, that's a familiar angry northener. Eames is just about lounging in the back of the boat; nothing on this ride so far has resonated with him and the boat doesn't seem to do stops, so he's stuck here for now.]

[Constantine's bluster is familiar enough to catch his attention and rouse Eames from his daydreaming, Mr. "I'll just tell everyone I'm a piece of shit as a defence mechanism" coming out guns blazing. Eames breathes a quiet laugh from the back of the boat, almost charmed by the familiarity of it, and gazes out on the, uh. The scene out there.]

Well... I think Row Your Boat's still on the table.

[ Oh look maybe he'll just dump them into the drink fueled purely by irritation. He's never drowned in a river of blood before. Could be a real bonding experience.

At least the bluster is easy. It's almost as old a friend as his guilt. He offers a stony glare over his shoulder. ]

A single chord from you and I'll send us both in.

[ But the corpses continue to pop up. The scent isn't hard to ignore so much as the faces. Even some as disfigured and rotting as they are, he knows them. How couldn't he? ]

Edited (i can't spell at 3am apparently.) 2021-09-12 08:06 (UTC)

[A grin blooms wide on his face, and Eames does indeed look like he's about to start singing, but he doesn't. Not yet at least. Instead he sighs, looks out at the blood and the disfigured faces, voice sombre this time around.]

I reckon we both know how this is supposed to go by now.

[Deerington certainly loved making people share, especially when it came to their lowest points. Looks like Trench is no different in that regard.]

Unfortunately for you, it doesn't look like any of this is for me.

[ Don't you dare. John relaxes only slightly when it seems as if the other man isn't going to burst into song. He expects this sort of thing from Ray. He definitely would've suggested camping songs. ]

Yeah, yeah. The least the bastard place could do is give over a bottle for a bit of help.

[ His jaw clenches and mouth twists. ]

I know who it's for. [ A little defeated sounding? Yes, actually. There's a touch of anger around the edges of his voice as well. ] Well, you're the one caught up in all this mess with me.

[ He leans back, gesturing at the myriad of twisted and rotting faces, and then crosses his arms. ]

Pick one then.

john constantine. dctv.

river of regret

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river of regret. (cw: child abuse)

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wildcard, pls halp

i'm dying laughing.

this is very serious, he needs halp

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River of Regret cw: teenage corpses

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cw: child abuse, emotional and physical, also gaslighting, stockholm syndrome

𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬.

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wildcard we talked about

weeps.

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bloodsport / wildcardish.

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