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ABRAXAS MODS ([personal profile] abraxasmods) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs2021-06-12 12:13 pm
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EVENT #1

EVENT #1
Welcome to our very first event! This event will be divided into two parts: one for honored guests, and one for prisoners. There are some opportunities for characters to go to the opposite group's event, so read on below and make sure to check out the accompanying OOC plotting post for extra details!

This event takes place ICly from June 14th to June 19th.

The Summer Festival (Honored Guests)

It's June, and that means the annual Summer Festival in Castle Thorne. The newcomers are causing quite a buzz and, for the first time in ten years, a representative from the increasingly independent city of Nott has agreed to attend. The representative, Lyle Vela, has a lot of political sway in Nott and the impression he takes back with him will affect whether Nott begins to repair relations with the rest of Thorne or moves even further towards independence.

But that's not all there is to do here! The residents of the city surrounding Castle Thorne are intensely curious about the newcomers and several of the events at the Summer Festival have been designed by the mages to show them off. At some point you may begin to feel more like a prized pony than an honored guest, but there are rewards and gifts and good food to be had for all, so what's the harm in showing off a little?

The festival runs all week (June 14th-19th) and the list of events are as follows:
Sparring Contest: Honored guests will be asked to spar in front of an audience. Depending on the time of the week the fight takes place in, some guests may have some or most of their powers back, but the audience is here to see a show and just trampling your opponent in seconds won't do much for them. Try to add some spice to it: a good narrative and a close fight are much more enthralling. You may decide the winner of the fight between yourselves or ask the mods to roll for an outcome below. Prisoners who stay behind can sneak into this event but will not have their powers.

Magic Demonstration: Show everyone what you can do and demonstrate a Thornean magic spell in front of an audience. This should be a simple beginner spell such as a smaller elemental magic spell, some minor healing, a small illusion, and so on. Feel free to decide what spell you'd like your character to perform and post to the header below so the mods can roll for your character's success when performing it in front of the audience! Regardless of success, your character can learn the chosen spell by the end of the event. Unfortunately, prisoners cannot access this event.

The Black Market: Castle Thorne is much less secure during open festivals than it is during the rest of the year, so it's no surprise that some shady characters have managed to sneak in. They're trading potions and magical items, and luckily enough for the penniless newcomers, they're interested in things other than money. They may ask for some blood, saliva, or the chance to perform a spell on the hapless newcomer. Prisoners are welcome in the black market. Please post to the header below to see what item your character gets from the event (and what spell they'll be subjected to if you choose that option).

Visit with the Representative: Near the end of the Festival, three honored guests will be chosen to have one-on-one audiences with Lyle Vela in the hopes of impressing him. Ambrose hasn't had the time to get to know each guest individually yet, so he's asked that they choose the three candidates among themselves. If you wish you have your character volunteer for this position, please make a case for their suitability under the header below! If your character is not running for this position, have them vote for another character. Prisoners who stay behind may vote as well.
At the end of the festival on June 19th, there will be a huge feast available with all manner of fancy food and some alcohol if you wish to get a little drunk. Beware, Thornean alcohol is strong! Prisoners who stayed behind to help out with the festival can easily slip in and take some food and drink for themselves.

If your character has been imprisoned but you want them to attend the Festival, an honored guest may lobby for them to stay behind and help set up. It'll be work, but they can sneak off to have a bit of fun and it won't be as difficult as what's in store for the rest of them. If you wish to have your character stay behind, please post to the OOC plotting post. Because we know that claustrophobic tunnel horror isn't going to be everyone's cup of tea, there is no limit to the amount of prisoners who can stay behind.

In the Tunnels (Prisoners)

Good news, prisoners! You get some time away from your cells in the beautiful snow-covered mountains of northern Thorne. A volunteer work opportunity has arisen, and you are all volunteers. If you do well enough at your assigned task, perhaps your prisoner status will be re-evaluated. Or perhaps your supervisor will take all the credit for themselves and throw you right back where you came from. Life's unfair sometimes! You'll at least be given a nice set of boots and heavier clothes to keep you warm.

Your task: to harvest as much crystal as you can from the burrow of a Giant Frostwurm. From June to September, the Frostwurm hibernates and is generally non-aggressive. Huge and territorial, Giant Frostwurms are only rarely encountered and are considered endangered by Thornean biologists. All known Frostwurm habitats are marked and harvested once every few years as the crystals that grow on its body are highly valuable for use in medicine and, erm, recreation although the latter is frowned upon by Thornean authorities. Don't worry, you don't have to touch the Frostwurm itself, it sheds every now and then and leaves a healthy supply of crystals in the tunnels of it burrow.

That's not to say it will be an easy task. There's a reason they're using "volunteer" prison labor, after all. The tunnels are deep and labyrinthine, and it's easy enough to get lost down there and wander in circles until you die of thirst or starvation. The crystals themselves also have a certain disorienting effect that turns hallucinogenic after prolonged exposure and, because of the Frostwurm's unique psychic properties, hallucinations can be shared between individuals. Like a contagion, spending time around someone who is hallucinating can cause it to 'catch'. These hallucinations may be pleasant or frightening, but the only cure is to get out of the tunnels and away from the crystals for a while.

Tunnel cave-ins are also a possibility, in which case you best start digging and hope you choose up. Getting too lost can result in an encounter with the Frostwurm, and while it needs to conserve energy and won't give chase, it'll bite or whip at you with its tail if you get too close. Both prisoners and supervisors are instructed not to kill the Frostwurm under any circumstances, even if it means sacrificing someone in their party. They're endangered, after all!

If your character has been welcomed to Thorne but you still wish to go on the Frostwurm excursion, they can volunteer to be a supervisor. There are currently 24 prisoners and they will be divided into groups of 3, so we will accept a maximum of 8 supervisors (potentially less depending on how many prisoners stay behind to help with the festival). Be aware that supervisors will be in danger as well, and they will be punished if they try to help the prisoners escape, but unlike the prisoners they will be paid for their efforts and seen as having initiative by the Thornean authorities. If you wish to be a supervisor, volunteer on our OOC plotting post.

The timeline for this part of the event is as follows:
June 14th: Prisoners will be led from their cells in chains to a Thornean fast-travel portal (a glowing circle of neon light) that will take them about a mile away from the Frostwurm's burrow. It's cold and the air is thin, so they'll be given the rest of the day to rest and acclimate before being sent inside.

June 15th-18th: Down in the tunnels with you! Characters are sent into the tunnels and can experience any of the effects listed above. If your party makes it out after sunset they'll be permitted to sleep in a tent, if they're lost then they will sleep in the tunnels. On the 18th, anyone who comes out alive will not have to go back in and the supply of crystals will be counted.

June 19th: Today would be the day of the Summer Festival, if they were back at Castle Thorne, but their captors aren't completely merciless. The prisoners and supervisors will be marched back to the fast-travel portal, where a small feast has been set up for them. It isn't as glamorous as what's back in Thorne, but it's the best meal the prisoners have been served since they arrived. And, as a bonus, the guards might slip you some alcohol if you did a good job in collecting the crystals.
Please visit the accompanying OOC plotting post to choose your team of three, and a supervisor if your group has one (groups without PC supervisors will be sent off on their own with no NPC supervisor). This event is designed to have some element of risk to it (but no one will die, don't worry!) so while you can plan what happens to your characters out with your group if you like, we also encourage you to post an action or two to our IC Consequences header below and leave it up to chance. Who knows, something awesome might happen.




Questions


Will there be any mod NPCing during this event?
The three visits with Lyle will be NPCed but other than that, no. Feel free to play random townies, guards, or black market sellers on your own!

Can I try to free the prisoners/can my imprisoned character break out?
Ambrose will be willing to hear cases for prisoner freedom after the event has concluded. You can try to smuggle the prisoners out of town during the festival or escape from the mountain, and prisoners can try to escape, but they will be caught and punished at this stage. Please post to the appropriate header below if you wish to have your character try!

Are the prisoners still powerless?
Yep! Don't worry, inmates, there'll be opportunities to be released for good behavior OR do a prison break soon. More details about the status of the prisoners will be released after this event.

Can my prisoner or supervisor character break away from their assigned group?
Yes, the tunnels are disorienting so individuals may wander off, especially if they are hallucinating. Feel free to interact with anyone and everyone.

What can the hallucinations entail?
Anything! They can think they're being chased, imagine a portal to a green oasis or even scenery from their own homeworld, and anything else you can come up with. They won't be real or tangible so nothing will remain of them once the affected characters are recovered (unless a special mod consequence is given...) but as stated above they can be shared between characters so everyone can see the same thing.

Can my character attend both the Summer Festival and the mission in the tunnels?
Alas, no. Both events will take the whole week, so it's one or the other!



perforo: (009.)

[personal profile] perforo 2021-06-19 04:15 am (UTC)(link)
[ Lions do not retreat in a rush of cowardice, that is true. They do not flee, they do not surrender in a show of shameful fright. Lions do not shrink before any foe, they do not retract their claws and meekly bow their heads when all seems lost. They do not allow their wealth to be stolen from them, they do not cringe at any challenge issued. Their fangs are without peer, their ferocity unflagging, their hunger without end. What could they possibly fear? They command all beasts; there is not one who would not balk at their approaching shadows. The trees themselves will cower before the lion's progress; the gods will think twice before they tempt the wrath of such relentless blood. She must know this.

Her objection goes molten before it can fully rise, and he feels it curve from complaint to moan so close beneath the surface of her skin. He hunts it with first his tongue and then his teeth, and he traps her in his hold with a defiant steeling of every muscle in his arms. She has no hope of overcoming him when it comes to a contest of his brute strength against her own, and despite this, she is in the habit of twisting and squirreling even more fervently when he strangles any hope of an escape.

Her protests are made most urgently where he is most apt to react, which is no accident, and the grin that blazes against her throat makes perfectly obvious his delight. He is shoving the shelf of his hips against her when she breaks into a goose's squawk at the touch of his hand, and he is more startled by the theatrics of the reaction than by any threat it might conceivably rouse. ]


They wouldn't be so cold if you'd stop being so stingy with the heat.

[ The only heat he cares to warm them by, that is, and she does not discard his hand for long. There is no swifter way for him to be set alight than by pressing his body to her own, a fact she cannot claim to be ignorant of, and he devotes his efforts now to climbing his hand higher, over the curve of her waist to the higher curves that are twice as tantalizing for having been kept from sight. Her voice has taken on that grating edge she is so fond of, the one honed specifically for his chastisement, but her hand has at the same time found its way into his hair, and he trusts that greedy grip more than he trusts any of her words.

They keep his mouth drawn to her throat, so he gives himself over once more to opening a snarling kiss against her skin, raking his teeth over all of the pearly flesh that is his to claim. Succulent as a ripe peach she is, and he consumes the curve of her throat accordingly, leaning his hips abruptly forward to give her the measure of how ardently he might consume her where she is yet warmest.

Nothing has been robbed from them, nothing irrevocably stolen - they have only been briefly separated from what is rightfully theirs. But they will have it back, and their captors will be made to pay twice its worth. There is one thing that can never be stolen from them, however, no more than a man's blood can be stolen from his body while he lives. Something that the gods cannot touch, cannot revoke, and cannot punish them for. The opportunity for divine interference has long passed - the gods do not watch. He wishes they did, just as he wishes for a hunt when the guards notice their escape, and the mounting satisfaction of so many transgressions urges him harder, harder. ]


Take it, then. Take it right here, like this. Take it for all the times they kept us apart.
reignfall: (037)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-06-19 04:03 pm (UTC)(link)
There had been a time when nothing had been so infuriating as his growing strength. Overnight it seems that she was robbed of her mirror image, into whose skin she could slip for a lesson with the sword all to herself. He grew leaner where she grew soft, and faster where she once knew to out-dash him with lithe, swift steps. His strength was honed, trained, expanded on in hours with swords first wooden, then sharpest steel. He could tire himself out on horseback with ever more daring stunts, he broke lances first with his peers, and then with men twice, thrice his age. When she would jump his back to surprise him, his victory was swift, even if she made of herself the prize and thus reaped the greatest of rewards beneath his hands.

In the meantime, she was taught patience, but in truth, all she learned was to wait – and there is no little satisfaction in those hours they spent now locked in their shared cell, when the waiting seems to slowly drive him mad.

There is much greater satisfaction in their reunion, in the way it spites the gods and their captors alike, who surely must be blind to their shared blood, their superiority, all the ways their own world had failed to conquer and subdue them. If the gaping maw of the seven hells cannot see them relent, how could some earthly magic? It is easy for her to get well into her cups on those thoughts.


You could at least let me take out that damned blanket.

Her tone is both barbed and badly masking her amusement, her vain pride that is stoked like the sort of campfire she would prefer to be near in this moment. That a servant's garb might spark hunger in him had not surprised her, but that even a prisoner's lumpy tunic could draw him to her like fresh meat did the lions at the Rock is a fresh treat. She prefers herself in silks, but it is not the silks she misses half as much as the golden tiaras, the pendants of ruby and emerald, all the wealth of the crown that underlines, in her mind, her own beauty like nothing else could.

The lack of gold does not still his hands, that her braid is tied by a ribbon ripped from a blanket of the cell did not keep his touch from her, and that it is not her rich feather bed they shall sink into, but the darkness of the tunnels that grant them privacy has not made his kisses less hungry, less consuming, or, by any means, less intense to experience. She cannot even claim that it is not mutual – for all the ways his gilded armour occupies her mind whenever he passes her, for all the ways rich, silken tunics draw and guide her touch when she does not demand him shirtless at once, there is a relish to this anonymity, to being the unknown lovers.

If only there was a projected end to it.

From this thought she means to distract herself, to twist against the vice-grip of his arms so that she can at least take from him the proper kiss she is owed, one that is deeper and more searching than their traversing of these tunnels. One that ends in teeth to his lower lip, ungentle and demanding as is her wont. Her own hand tightens in his hair to a less than pleasant point, a savage, animal frustration that gives silent voice to the toll imprisonment is taking.


Tell me I am your queen.
perforo: (006.)

[personal profile] perforo 2021-06-19 06:24 pm (UTC)(link)
[ A scratchy blanket, thin as a wench's virtue, tossed over the tunnel's floor? What sense was there in decorating this raw hell? That scrap of warmth, if it truly dealt any, would not be the silks or cushions she is more accustomed to him taking her against. He has happily made do with stone walls and rough floors, and there is no creeping shadow of lord or beast that has ever doused his fire. He would, and has, taken her anywhere: in the comforts of their father's own imperial keep, against the tapestried walls belonging to the name Baratheon, and in the bed that was meant only to sanctify the union of stag and lion. The world ought to know better: all was made for lion and lion; any shadowed corner or elegant table was sacred enough to bear their coupling. This shoddy cavern shall be no different. ]

So you can complain about the thread count?

[ There will be some unforgivable fault in their one concession toward comfort, he does not doubt. So he does not turn his attention to drawing forth the damned blanket for her, and the needles in her tone do not spur him. He does not have the patience for any of these fine details, and he has never groomed his infatuation with her into anything that resembles proper fear. She has brandished her power quite generously, to be sure he understood it: sending him on squire's errands, opening leagues and leagues between them for nothing other than her own amusement. She has commanded him from her presence, upbraided him for some trespass that was likely imagined, cursed him for a braggart, a fool, an idiot. But she has always asked him back, has always received him with all the luxuriating pleasure that the beach receives the tide, and when he feels her squirming anew, he frees her.

Only enough so that she can turn in his arms, so that he can fall to ravaging her mouth as he'd been ravaging her throat, pushing forward with the whole steel frame of his body to back her against the nearest excuse for a tunnel wall. For the present, at least, so that he has that unyielding leverage against which to delve into her mouth, a husky laugh meeting her teeth at his lip. She is delectable when she is rough, unbridled from all of the royal trappings that have long been hers, even if they are wholly absent here. She wears the intention of them well enough, the suggestion of all she is owed, and he breaks from her long enough to strip the artless tunic from her, the layers they have been allowed to endure the cold.

Difficult to respect the threat of the cold when he is feverish with heat, and he finds her again with his hands, with a youthful, insatiable greed that has never dulled, and if she thinks her fingers digging into his hair is anything less than a searing pleasure, she is wildly mistaken. The deeper her frustration the more vicious her hands against him, and he bears into the touch with another savage, artless kiss before dropping his head to graze tongue and teeth along the top of her chest instead, and then lower. ]


Not until you tell me everything I am to you.

[ A list that has never known an end, really; some of his titles are as familiar and well-worn as old leather, and others are not yet won. Brother, knight, lover. Husband, king, god. Her aspirations toward queenliness and a throne have since been achieved, but his own desires do not know so abrupt an end, and when he can taste them all immediate and flush against his tongue, he will go without none. ]
reignfall: (099)

[personal profile] reignfall 2021-06-19 07:23 pm (UTC)(link)
What a twisted picture it would have been in the wild, to see a lion coupling with a stag. The creatures would be put down and out of their sickening misery, and any who had happened upon that horrid sight would have feasted their eyes on a sept thereafter, asking mother and maiden alike to cleanse their mind of the abomination. Then why had she been made to endure this? She only sought the beast that suited her best, the first she had ever seen, her mirror image in spite of the changes the world has forced onto them.

To the scorn of the realm, now that Stannis has spread his lie, his truth, throughout the seven kingdoms, the consequences of which she must yet wait to know. That her trust must be placed in Littlefinger's hands ––

No, she must remain in this moment, with her brother, to whom she has been drawn like a moth to a flame for as long as she can remember, and longer still in truth. Not in gentle loving by far: she swats at his chest when he denies her the thin comfort of the blanket, though the gods know they had not bothered with so much as putting his cloak down in that dark tower of Winterfell. Comfort is a luxury they often forgo in the face of this brutal need, and she cannot quite muster any shame for those interludes in the forests they journeyed through on their way North and back, nor for the way she'd bitten his hand bloody the night he'd taken her while Robert was passed out.

All this fight is momentarily suspended by the first full kiss they can share, more maddening than any they had thieved of one another since they had been brought to the mountains. Her cruel intentions are hardly subtle: she bites to draw blood, means to taste it on his lip, every drop of his as much hers as hers can be. His dark chuckle is met with a love-drunk smile of her own, the sort that none would ever see were she not permitting herself to lose her senses in this moment, and her own hands tease at the edge of his shift when he promptly withdraws enough to rid her of her own.

That is met with another lashing blow to his side, and a cold-struck gasp, but the effect must be a desired one, because she is far too cold now to vanish out of his reach. Another matched kiss, during which she cannot focus on his lips so much as she seems to force him forward, and herself away from that dreaded, cursed wall, far too cold to be touched. His head dips low, and the one that does not grip tight in his mane sees nails digging into his neck. Only the heat of his mouth is a cure, a fire blazing against the cold, and those tugs and grasps and urgings lack so much of her refinement that they are more reminiscent of their first tumble on that beach so many years ago than they are of their more artful, practiced joinings.


Greedy.

That is what he is, greedy, and a fool, infuriating and a thrice-cursed sinner, and the only love she has known before her own children were born. A greed unmatched, she would claim, in spite of her power-starved and covetous nature, in spite of the way she hikes both her legs high around his waist, so that he may not escape her now.

Counterintuitive, perhaps, for her hand is only now dragged from his neck and into his breeches, trapped between them where she claims him to the core.


You are my brother, my only love, the father of my children. My knight, the one I named commander of the Kingsguard. ⟪ This much can be said of the terrible garb they were given: little is stopping her from taking him in her hand, warmed, she would note, by the way she had ran it over his body in her relentless want.

Another thing, breathed against his lips before she savages him for another bloody kiss.
⟫ My king, once the war is done.

Impossible, that last thing, but she likes to indulge in a fantasy. He has known this since Eel Alley.