Fated Leviathan Base Camp - Player Plot

[terriblepurpose]

Who: Open to all
What: Fated Leviathan Player Plot
When: Early to late February
Where: The Farther Shores

Content Warnings: Body horror, thalassophobia, violence, death, prophecy, not safe for work text



[Welcome to the base camp log post for the Fated Leviathan player plot. This is intended as a general mingling and sandbox post open to all who are interested, whether you've commented on the initial planning post or not!

For the in character group chat on DeerNet, please head right this way.

For the OOC battle finale planning post, go yonder.

Please use as much of the general information below (as well as any other setting details or any prompts from February's event) as you'd like to create your own toplevels, as well as adding to that information with things your characters might bring or set up. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me, Beth, via terriblepurpose or by DMing this journal!]

Comments

[megatheorem]

[Palamedes sips his tea some more, not concealing his satisfied little grin. Levity, levity — and a soupçon of bitterness, for flavor. He's blessedly not even seen Actual God since that boat trip, but after Paul's near breakdown and Gideon's sharing on that very trip that Actual God tormented Harrow to "fix" her — mm!

Mmmm!!

He's earned this, at the very least.]

Generously, it's a dinghy.

[Fact: Palamedes looked up boat terms to make this joke, and it is delivered, and he declares that it is good. The mood is only slightly lowered by the man himself's inevitable arrival, but! Until then: levity.]

I will put myself elsewhere, but only because I know you don't want me to mouth off at him for his weird choices.

[Understatement. But he'll behave.]

[terriblepurpose]

[The dinghy comment wrings another laugh out of Paul, pulls him back upright and facing forward. There's a certain tension around his eyes, but - well, whistling past graves might be a thing necromancers do all the time, for all Paul knows. What he does know for certain is that he could not have continued to function the way he had been, and this is better than that.]

Only because I think it wouldn't be fair. [Paul's smile tilts, sharpens.] You're cleverer than he is.

[And better. There are many types of cleverness, and Paul prefers Palamedes' bright, uncompromising curiosity to the oil-slick interest that had brushed over him. Palamedes is better, and Paul hopes the Emperor continues to abide in his arrogant ignorance of that fact.]

Speaking of choices - have you seen that house of his? It's nearly as bad as where I was staying.

[megatheorem]

[Ah, cleverer than God, he'll put that one on his necromancer business card. Palamedes Sextus, Master Warden, Much Cleverer than God Himself Actually (Take That, Sucker) —

It can be workshopped. He laughs in turn, shrugging as if to say, well, what can one do when one's own cleverness is nigh unbeatable! It happens. He lets the moment settle for an extra second to appreciate it for what it is beyond the exact kind of talking smack about God that Paul cautioned him about weeks ago; just some guys hanging out and having a chuckle in the face of imminent danger. And, you know, he appreciates the endorsement. Coming from Paul, even more so.

So, then: the ugly house, and he gestures emphatically with his teacup, although not so much as to upset the tea.]

It's an eyesore, isn't it! And I'm one of them, so you know it has to be terrible beyond measure if I'm agreeing.

[Not a single House besides the Sixth has good taste, in Palamedes' opinion, which is mostly based on how little time he has to spend thinking about having taste. Just seeing the horrible bone house in his periphery means he has to Think About It, and working out why someone would decorate like that is an unending task.]

If nothing else, at least hang your skeletons everywhere in a way that's nice to look at, right? Have some semblance of order.

[terriblepurpose]

[The exception to the rule against mocking God turns out to be 'when it's particularly funny, your necromancer friend could do with a little ego boost, and you're already doomed as it is'. Paul grins crookedly with a closed mouth and leans forward, setting his elbows on the table.]

'Oh, please, don't look at my ghost-haunted hovel and my ship crewed by the restless undead'. [Paul is good at vocal mimicry; it sounds uncannily like the man under discussion.] 'I am but a humble fellow traveler on the sea of life, a simple man with hideously ostentatious tastes'.

[Paul sips his own tea (what's left of it) and affects a disappointed expression, shaking his head.]

As the ladies of court would say - it's utterly gauche. [Bad taste: the true crime here.] What's wrong with an old-fashioned palace?