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ABRAXAS MODS ([personal profile] abraxasmods) wrote in [community profile] abraxaslogs2022-10-15 10:14 am

EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

Event #10 - Affliction

With tensions heavy across Abraxas and all the destruction that's happened, it's no surprise that the dark shadows which sweep over the land go unnoticed...at first.

Winds initially stir in Solvunn, where the influence of the Old Gods remains the strongest. Slowly each Herald infects Thorne and the Free Cities, as well. The Summoned are the first to feel its effects and are the most heavily impacted.

Though no one will realize it until well afterwards, Nocwich remains unaffected. After all, the Summoned don't reside there.

NOTE: This event will deal with themes of death (people and animal) and horror imagery.
Emergence
It begins sometime in mid-October, around the 18th. Not everyone will experience it at the same time. You might even believe you're spared until days afterwards when you're visited by an unusually vivid dream.

The dream starts the same for everyone: you are going somewhere, anywhere, walking to your bedroom or enjoying a stroll on the beach. You might be driving down a familiar neighborhood. Wherever you're headed, you eventually come upon a stone tablet engraved with your Arcana. Laid on the tablet are three objects:
◎ A dead moth trapped inside a wilted rose, symbolizing Koth of Festering Lands
◎ A teacup inside which sits a single nightshade berry, symbolizing Adlewyrd of Poisoned Tongues
◎ An ornate cracked hand mirror that contains no reflection, symbolizing Sannleikr of Many Faces
Make a choice. Something inside your soul will be drawn towards one of the objects. Maybe you spend hours in the dream deliberating, but sooner or later, you'll pick one of the items up. The moment you do, the other objects vanish and the chosen Herald appears before you. Where one might expect a god to seek subservience, the strange figure instead extends a friendly hand towards you - as though it's greeting you as an equal.

Whispered around you, you hear its name. Then it fades and with it the dream. You awaken.
Affliction
You go about your day as usual. That's when you realize something isn't right. Creatures and people around you behave strangely. You begin to sense that you are the cause.

Depending on your chosen Herald, you'll experience at least one of its afflictions. The effects might start small, then grow. They might rush you all at once. You can't shake what haunts you, though you can try. Spells, potions, and willpower can help keep the afflictions at bay but you won't ever be completely free.

As the afflictions seep into your mind, you start to find shadows of it following you: a dead moth here, a nightshade bloom there, a cracked mirror elsewhere. You may even wonder if it's following you in the first place. What if instead, you are the one leaving these signs behind?
Corruption
The first time you inflict your ability on someone else, you don't mean to. It might be a stranger, some unsuspecting soul, or it might be another Summoned. Regardless, the afflictions that ail you seem to spread through you into another. Someone falls down as if in the throes of an invisible death or secrets spill. You brush by someone and they're suddenly upset and confused.

The more this happens, intentionally or not, the better you feel. You may grow full of life and energy, gain a renewed strength of heart, or radiate a charm that turns heads and garners compliments. The afflictions haunting you could even start to fade or completely vanish. And if you use your newfound power deliberately? You'll feel better even faster for longer. Of course, these boons are temporary, lasting at most an hour or so. When the feeling wanes, you might miss having it.

You are not possessed. You can't control this power that spreads through you, but how you respond or behave is up to you. You could be attracted to the allure of power, enjoy the boons you are granted, or realize you can gain relief from your afflictions if you choose a victim. Not everyone will fall headfirst into the pull. Some are not easily swayed by power, some struggle to overcome their dark impulses, and others would rather endure their suffering than inflict it on someone else. But others still might succumb to temptation and turn on those around them with purpose: once, twice, multiple times. The choice you make is yours alone.
Blight
With the call of the Herald at your fingertips, the world around you twists. No one knows whether this stems from you and your newly imbued afflictions, or if the Heralds are exerting power on their own. It's for sure easier to think of what occurs as the influence of something monstrous beyond your control. No matter the cause, the earth is changed all the same.
Omens
The omens arrive shortly after the initial Summoned receive their dreams, but they don't come to every faction at once. SOLVUNN is first, being home to the Old Gods' shrines, before THORNE and the FREE CITIES follow only days afterwards. Depending on where you are, the omens will affect things a bit differently.
Solvunn
In Solvunn, the ground stirs. A desiccated hand breaks through the grass, a cloven hoof. Human or animal, they crawl forth, animated against their will. Some might attack, but most do not. At the same time, crops around the settlements begin to fail. Some chickens lay rotten eggs while cows produce spoiled milk. Any livestock that perishes overnight will surface in the mornings with empty eye sockets - pecked out by crows or gnawed on by rats. From a distance, the ocean can be seen bubbling as leviathans beneath thrash.

Worth noting is that many of the dead are concentrated around the shrines, especially the ones deep in the woods. They're too decayed to recognize, and some might not even move from the site, as though they are waiting for the earth to take them again...or as though they once chose to give up their life at this very spot.

Summoned can assist by helping to cast spells or place warding charms around shrines, farms, and gardens to protect crops and livestock. As a commune, the Solvunnites will share their resources as much as possible and would appreciate those who might lend a hand bringing supplies, herbs, and offerings to neighbors who are lacking. The Summoned can also brew a common herbal remedy to aid any animals who have fallen ill or to help purify the well water.

Free Cities
In Libertas, the dead buried under the rubble dig themselves out. More crawl forth from graves in Cadens' cemeteries. Beasts and bandits slain in the desert wilds rise, hungry or searching for the ones who killed them. At the same time, dead fish wash up onto the shores of Aquila while birds fall dead from their perch, dropping like flies from an unknown illness. Vultures and other scavengers begin to prey upon the eyes of the dead, leaving behind hollowed-out corpses.

Worth noting is that in the Badlands, a few very old and skeletal corpses rise with a metal plate or two screwed onto their bones, which are also oddly elongated. Only one or two make their way near the city. The army is quick to dispose of them before many can notice. They will not disclose any information about this and will claim these are just monsters like anything else.

Summoned can assist by going on patrol with the soldiers to put down any risen dead. Merchant caravans are also hiring escorts for their journeys. Additionally, they can help look through any received supplies and packages to make sure the food isn't rotting or worse, use a special dissolving compound to purify the waters, and donate staple food items to refugees and the less fortunate who can't afford the rising prices.

Thorne
In Thorne, the dead emerge only from the outskirts of the castle city. Thanks to information from one of their Summoned and their recent monitoring of the Singularity, Thorne was able to act swiftly and was able to ward any royal or otherwise significant burial sites. Graves and tombs of less importance, though, will not be protected in the same way. There are fewer encounters with eyeless corpses, though some animals might appear outside the castle in such a state. Normally extravagant dishes from the Castle's kitchens use simpler ingredients as they struggle to ration their food stores.

Worth noting is that a few unexpected corpses make their way up from deep under the castle in places beyond the dungeons. These are twisted and mangled, missing limbs, heads, fingers. The castle guards are quick to dispose of them before they get too far into the rest of the castle, but one or two may be spotted.

Summoned can assist by contributing to the wards around Castle Thorne and the city, using spells to put down the dead without mangling the corpse, and taking inventory of food stores. Further, in Nott the situation is more dire for anyone who is traveling there to continue assisting with repairs following the attack. Nott will welcome help with any problems caused by the omens. It'll be clear the kingdom has neglected the city somewhat. Thorne will claim the Castle takes priority, of course, due to King and Queen residing there along with the entire royal court.
Apprehensions
Across the factions, locals are beginning to catch on that something isn't right with you, the Summoned. No one will say it outright, but there's an air of caution and wariness around you where you go. Merchants might be quick to hand you your wares so you'll leave or locals give you a bit of space when they walk by. Chatty innkeepers are more reluctant to hold lengthy conversations.

Much of the time, it may not be conscious. The natives might simply sense something off that instinctually makes them want to put some distance between them and you. The only exception? If you've chosen Sannleikr of Many Faces, you'll continue to exude your charm towards people you encounter. At least for as long as you continue to inflict that ability you've been gifted.
Displacement
Everyone responds differently while in the Horizon. You might exert better willpower over your afflictions or you might feel its effects more strongly. It all depends on the individual and their mindset. Regardless, the Heralds are only one part of the equation. There's a much bigger disturbance going on.

It could happen as soon as you enter or it might be as you're stepping over the threshold into another's domain. Whatever the case, you are suddenly not where you're supposed to be. Instead, you're in one of two places depending: transported into a domain you never meant to go into or in a foreign setting altogether.
Visitation
Whether you're the one transported or someone teleports unexpectedly into your space, the Horizon becomes unpredictable for the next little while. Rooms normally locked to strangers, areas you yourself may not even realize exists - you and your fellow Summoned continue to pop in and out despite your intentions.

The effect isn't painful, just disorienting, like missing a step you didn't see or stumbling through a door into a too-bright room. The person whose domain you've inadvertently visited might sense an unwanted presence, whether they're inside the Horizon or not, or they may be completely oblivious. This will depend on the strength of their connection to the Singularity and the Horizon.

Not to worry. You won't be trapped or anything in these cases...unless the domain you land in happens to seal from the inside. You might stumble on secrets you weren't meant to find, though, locked away in someone else's mind.
Ensnared
The less fortunate will be pulled into a space that they've never encountered before. The bizarreness of it resembles the glitchy visions that flashed through a few months ago, but rather than an image flickering by, you are now inside the space itself.

Trapped between minutes to hours, you can't use the Horizon's creation magic as normal. Attempts will falter or go sideways: trying to fly out might cause you to tumble, tools and objects are broken or not quite right, wounds don't vanish or heal completely, etc. More significantly, you can't seem to send or receive messages through your connection. Anything that manages to come through will be garbled and distorted. It's as though the place you are in is just out of the reach of your control.

Luckily, you may not be alone. Someone else may have gotten lost alongside you. They might already be there when you stumble through or they might arrive after you do. They might even fade out sooner than you, unintentionally leaving you behind.

Eventually, you'll be released back into the Horizon proper, spat out in a random place in the Horizon. While you're stuck, though, you can try to survive, explore, sit and wait it out, or make friends with your fellow trapped partner. Each area has its challenges and quirks that you'll need to deal with.

Scenes to Explore
JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

High in the clouds, these snowy peaks are as cold as they look. Giant marble hands reach out, though their sheer scale means you might not recognize them as hands from up close. You can scale the mountain, but if you try to go down, the hands will flip the mountain, which sends you tumbling to the top again.

It's up to you whether you can be injured when you fall. Maybe the snow will feel like marshmallows, or you'll break a bone on the jagged rocks. No two experiences are the same. If you have a partner, they could end up faring better than you despite being in the same place.

Conjure some warm clothes or a log cabin even if you wish - they might not manifest perfectly, but it'll be better than nothing. At least the view's fairly nice...while the sun is up. A blizzard will come through by nightfall. With it arrives a strange hovering light that entices you or your friend to follow it into the frozen darkness. What draws you out depends on you. It could be a familiar voice, an image, or a simple compulsion. If you're lucky, the person with you is unaffected and can try to stop you. Or maybe you're the one desperately chasing after the other person?

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

From a distance, it's hard to tell if they're shipping containers or houses stacked atop each other. A gooey mess covers the ground below. Oddly, the smell isn't as unpleasant as the goo looks. It smells like bubblegum or cotton candy, artificial and sweet. When you first fall in, you might land inside one of the homes, on top of the stacked structure, or the ground. You can try to reach anyone else who's there with you, but be careful: the ooze is spreading. Climb if you must or move from room to room. If you don't keep moving, you risk getting sucked into its sticky mass.

Each block of a home is different. Some are furnished, whereas others are empty or filled with strange knickknacks. Some might even have subconscious creations spawned by you. Keep ahead of the gloopy substance, and you'll be fine, probably. Or you can try to fight it back or block its path by sealing yourself in a room or otherwise, which can slow it down significantly. Mostly, you'll have to hope you fade out before the pink mass completely consumes the landscape.

THE WORLD ◎
FULL IMAGE

The hazy neon glow obscures a nothingness that seems to extend forever. In the middle of the wet ground are several stacked television sets with wires plugged into nothing. Inexplicably, there's also a cat. At first, it appears perfectly normal, but keen observers will notice that its behavior is on a loop where it will walk a certain path, pause at specific intervals to lick its paws, and meow at set points. It does not acknowledge any of its intruders. You can break its loop by picking it up, at which point it'll go limp as a ragdoll. As soon as you set it down, it'll resume its actions as before.

While you can see the same images as someone else on the screens, it's also possible you'll each see something different despite being in the room together. What you see is up to you. It could be an old fuzzy movie, home videos of your childhood, trivia questions you have to answer correctly, or even a memory or vision you wouldn't want to share. Words or faces taunting you could appear between staticky flickers, or maybe your very thoughts are projected onto the screens for anyone with you to read.

Break the televisions if you want, but given a few short minutes, they'll reform between one blink and the next. Looks like you'll have to keep watching until you're released.

THE FOOL ◎
FULL IMAGE

Sprawling and massive, you're unlikely to recognize at first that you're trapped in a labyrinth. Stone walls rise around you, and your surroundings are pitchblack. Manifest a torch or a flashlight if you can, though these will be prone to going out at inopportune times. Escaping over the walls will only send you into another section in the maze.

As you navigate the twisting corridors, you'll encounter any variety of trials and troubles: gaps in the ground, spiked traps, haunting whispers, monsters, decaying corpses. Some of these might've formed from your mind, others might've spawned from anyone else who's trapped with you.

If you aren't alone, do your best to locate your fellow Summoned. Voices do carry and echo over the walls, and there could be landmarks that help you find each other. Finding the exit, however, is another matter. Walk and climb all you want. A way out is impossible until the Horizon chooses to set you free.

Players can pick any scenario that interests them from the four choices above. Unlike the visions from before, characters can accidentally be trapped in as many of the scenes as you want, as many times as you want. Another option is that they can stay trapped in only one scene while a variety of characters fade in and out to join them, or some combination of the two. Choose what works best for your plans.

Each scene will once again carry an associated Arcana etched somewhere inside it, which can change from person to person or instance to instance. It might be on a wall, a table, or on the ground. Characters with a stronger connection to the Horizon are likely to be trapped for longer but the extent of this is your choice and it won't ever exceed a few hours. It's also your choice whether the afflictions continue to haunt them or not. If you want characters to deal with both problems while stuck together, you're welcome to!

Generally speaking, there are no restrictions other than that they won't be able to communicate with anyone outside the area, they can't escape it until the Horizon chooses to release them, and their creation magic will go wrong just enough that it'll make things tricky.
tobeclosetohim: (Flirty McFlirtsALot.)

Jo Harvelle| Free Cities | Sannleikr

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-15 06:37 pm (UTC)(link)
[ open & closed starters || planning plurks, sign-up & [plurk.com profile] wanderlustlover for contact/planning ]
cryptsleeper: <user name="malagraphic"> (Dad mode)

Alucard | Castlevania | Adlewyrd

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2022-10-15 07:14 pm (UTC)(link)
cryptsleeper: (Default)

Free Cities | Omens, Cadens Graveyard | OPEN

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2022-10-15 07:22 pm (UTC)(link)
Unless you're here to help, fuck off!

[The dead are rising. Again. Because why not celebrate a one year anniversary?

Alucard did not need to hear rumor of the dead rising from a tavern or in the plaza or whispered in the university halls. He need only try to settle in to sleep for an evening in his hollowed out cactus for the problem to come to his front doorstep. Very, very literally. A hand with no arm woke him, yanking on his wolf ears like a furious toddler.

It has been three very long, stressful days since. They come in waves, the dead, digging himself up out of random sections of the graveyard. They stop only when tired out - horrible dogs in states of decay that have interpreted walkies as rise from the grave and go fuck with people.

He has no patience left, and Alucard's tongue has no kind words. He is all sharp edges and bone deep exhaustion as he decapitates a skeleton, watching the head go...

...somewhere?

Fuck.]


There's one behind you, if you'd do me the politeness of moving.
cryptsleeper: <user name="malagraphic"> (I'll consider it)

Free Cities | Badlands | OPEN

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2022-10-15 07:28 pm (UTC)(link)
[He isn't sure that the dead will stay where they are. Alucard hopes that they will, because seemingly every grave has made at least one attempt so far. What Alucard does know is that every awful, petty thought he has is now voices, that there's urges that should not be there at all, and waves of guilt that he shook off a while ago come back home to roost in his head.

The desert is safer. The desert has his crypt, and he knows that it is a safer place to be for now. Whatever new foulness has settled over him, it can be waited out there. Where it is safe, or at least safer to be.

He's taking the slow route to his crypt. Traveling as men do.

Tonight, he's stopped in the same place as a caravan. It is easy work to go through the supplies halfway through their journey, keen eyes used to the dark. He breathes out, extending a hand.]


I need more compound. Please.
tobeclosetohim: (I don't need your shit today)

ᴏᴛᴀ | ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇɴᴄᴇ | ᴄᴀᴅᴇɴꜱ

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-15 07:32 pm (UTC)(link)
Jo doesn’t give the dream about a cracked mirror any more credence than she does any other dreams she has. It’s weird, but it’s nowhere near the level of cold-sweat blood-chilling snap-awake that so many of her other dreams are from time to time. It’s just weird, which is the least of her problems in this place where everything is weird, and one weird always seems to blend and bleed right into the next weird.

That she spots a cracked mirror once, then twice, that first day is annoying more than comment worthy. Her subconscious snagged on pieces that must have been there when she passed this wall in Mag’s or down that walk of city stalls, and she didn’t see it before. It’s nothing. A coincidence. Obviously.

Until her face distorts in a bathroom mirror. A blur of colors as if a hand had wiped across her features like they were just still-wet paint. She’d left it, rubbing her eyes, fingers tips pressing on the firmness of her cheekbones, the soft wall of her checks, all of it right. Was she seeing things? Was she sick?

Jo’d gotten to breakfast, telling herself she’d just crossed her eyes when she looked down at the breakfast tray the food came on, and her reflection was clear, but wrong — blood on her rent open cheeks and nose, blood dripping from her hair, head lolling to one side, but eyes open and black. She shoved the tray away loudly, the food splashing and her breathing hard while staring at it wildly. “The fuck?”
cryptsleeper: <user name="malagraphic"> (Hot mess)

Horizon | OPEN

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2022-10-15 07:38 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Popping in
[Alucard's domain remains unchanged, all November gloom, mist, and light rain. Here, his tongue is softer. Here, whatever is happening in the real world has not shrug itself off, but has become less of a burden. Here, he can control the worst impulses, and the guilt of past actions is banished.

He wanders the woods, letting his feet guide him along paths that feel too short and already return him to his homestead.

No wonder he looks up to visitors when they appear at his sad little shack, taken aback.]


The path did not redirect you?

II. Ensnared

--I've not seen greenery yet.

[The maze is long. The maze is impossible. The maze makes freedom into another, disappointing turn. And along the dark corridors here and now, Alucard's eyes have alighted on a new section. Growing along the stone are twists of dark ivy, extending and extending until the stone itself is entirely covered.

A change of pace is something to be alarmed about. Alucard can't tell how long he's walked, only that to be wary is the correct response.
godshattering: (pic#15733092)

claude von riegan | free cities | sannleikr

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-15 07:42 pm (UTC)(link)
( Open and closed starters in the comments! Also good with brackets or prose so please reply with whichever you prefer. I'm up for anything so wildcards are always welcome but if you'd like to plot first, here's my plotting comment or you can find me at [plurk.com profile] indech and by PM at any time. )
tobeclosetohim: (Shotgun 5: Another Piece of Her)

ᴏᴛᴀ | ʙʟɪɢʜᴛ | ᴄᴀᴅᴇɴꜱ

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-15 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
Mirrors keep popping up in unexpected places, and people keep gravitating to her. People she only just barely knew, suddenly acting like they were the best of friends, like Jo was the only person they could confide in or who could help. While half the city seems to be all but closing up show on The Summoned, they won’t leave Jo alone. It's like there's a magnetic fixation for her instead. It’s even people she’s bumped into it randomly, and it’s fucking creepy alright.

Jo wouldn’t say she’s happy about it, but when the city explodes with zombies—crawling from up open ground and graveyards and inward from the desert—she’s almost relieved. Mayhem is fast and furious with the walking dead, but there’s something damn pure and perfect about this hell because at least she knows what to do with zombies. These don’t even try to act like themselves first; it’s just an onslaught.

Jo is quick to join the city patrols, both the official and not, just Summoned, out in the street, fighting the zombie monsters and bandits that make it in. Come join her, but do be careful of those accidental collisions, you might not lose your life, but you might forget there’s anyone else in it.
cryptsleeper: <user name="malagraphic"> (Dad mode)

Ciri | Closed | CW: rotting corpse stuff

[personal profile] cryptsleeper 2022-10-15 07:48 pm (UTC)(link)
[The great shambling monster corpse is not Alucard's idea of a good time. It is especially not Alucard's idea of a good time as the sun begins to sink in the Horizon, casting long shadows.

But there is a shambling monster corpse 500 yards away from his crypt. The dhampir is exhausted from trying to keep the dead in the ground as it is. His nose wants to cry from the stench of rot made worse by the desert sun. The hint of bleached bone. Sickening ichor follows in the thing's wake.

The thing howls, deep and guttural and gurgling. There's fury, there's agony, and out of the corner of the thing's dead eyes (or eye, Alucard can't tell at this distance), it sees a figure. Maybe Alucard. Maybe not.

It charges and the ground shakes. It nears the crypt, and Alucard runs out to meet it, if only to guide the thing away from his home.]
gynvael: (ml: 024)

geralt of rivia | free cities | koth (decay)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-15 07:56 pm (UTC)(link)
(( ooc: open and closed starters below. find me on the plotting post or [plurk.com profile] discontinued for plans. ))]
godshattering: (pic#15570270)

— in the horizon (OTA)

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-15 07:57 pm (UTC)(link)
i. accidental visitors
[ When things start to get weird, into the Horizon he goes. This time Claude isn't roaming around since running into people sounds, finally, like something he doesn't want to do. He stays in his own domain and can be found reading books either from Fodlan or texts that might be found in Cadens' libraries. Every now and then he summons up a mirror which cracks almost immediately, glancing into it as if to check something, followed by a grimace when whatever it is gets confirmed.

Contrary to usual where the doors to his domain remain open for anyone to stop by, they're closed now with the handles locked into place. And not just locked: if one looks closely at where the doors join each other, no seam can be detected as though there never was a doorway at all. Anyone attempting to use the boat to cross the canal will find the boat isn't as cooperative as usual and seems to be guided by an invisible current headed downstream, away from the landing.

Unfortunately for Claude, he'll soon learn this isn't enough to keep anyone out.

Even if he's in the middle of something, a feeling prickling across the back of his neck will soon warn him he's not alone after all. When it sets in, he startles which maybe tells on his mental state more than anything else given he normally isn't caught off-guard easily, and turns to see who's there with a slightly more tentative than usual smile whether he knows who they are or not. ]


Oh, uh - hello. Did you... mean to come here?

ii. on a mysterious mountain
[ When he opens his eyes, one thing is very apparent: this is not his domain. For a split second Claude almost thinks he's in Faerghus. The wind is cold, biting, and cuts right through his clothes which are in no way shape or form made for this weather. The last wisps of sun seem to be disappearing behind clouds above him. Wherever he is, if one of the other Summoned is responsible for this creation? It would've been nice if they could've turned heavy winter down for a bit.

It takes him a second to register nothing about where he's standing is familiar, not even as something he's seen in the distance while wandering around the Horizon. Above the sky is an ominous gray which says find shelter beyond the chill and that the wind's never stopped howling. Time to walk, he thinks, so that's what he does. Hopefully a cave will suddenly appear, or a lodge, something that won't mean succumbing to the elements even if this is supposed to be an illusion. It's not like any of this can harm him. Probably.

There's something like a path which appears to lead away from the summit behind him so he tries that first. The Horizon decides to teach him a quick lesson as when he makes it down halfway, the ground begins to rumble and Claude's thrown onto his back into some rocks as it seems to lift beneath his feet. Bruised but seemingly none too worse for the wear at first glance when he rights himself, Claude finds he's standing back where he started like he'd never descended.

Nothing to do but walk up the incline now, but not without one last glance over his shoulder to the theoretical way down that's not one at all. As he continues on, snow drifts grow larger and larger in a way that's foreboding. But he can see what could be a silhouette of someone further ahead where some of the snow blows into the air like a fine mist; maybe they'll have a better idea of what's going on if he can catch up to them. If nothing else, there's always safety in numbers.

Right? ]
dirtytrenchcoat: (pic#15426951)

Castiel | The Free Cities | Koth

[personal profile] dirtytrenchcoat 2022-10-15 07:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[open & closed starters || planning & sign-up @ [plurk.com profile] doggos for contact/additional plotting!]
godshattering: (pic#15586839)

— kyle

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-15 08:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Where are we?

[ This isn't the first time Claude's asked this. Like all the other times, he also doesn't really expect Kyle to have an answer; it's not like either of them asked to be trapped in some hallway. Or it'd seemed like just a hallway at first when Claude wandered it by himself, trailing a hand along the stone walls next to him for guidance until it'd turned a corner and he remembered: this is the Horizon, he could do something about there not being any light.

The torches he's created seem to be unreliable, and as he and Kyle stand at a junction with multiple ways to go the one in his hand currently chooses right now to go out. Because of course it does. With a small huff of aggravation Claude taps the torch's base and it flares to life again. His hopes are low on how long this one lasts but he sets that aside to hold it aloft and peer down each potential path.

He's not normally impatient, not outwardly at any rate. Everything going on both in 'real life' and the Horizon, though - it's taken a slight toll on him. In the end, Claude looks to Kyle then tilts his head to the left. ]


Let's try this one first. If it's another dead end, at least we can come back here and regroup.

[ Claude leads the way, but he should've learned from the other things they've encountered prior to now: they don't make it more than a few steps in before a chasm yawns open in the floor, the torchlight making it visible right before imminent disaster. Without thinking about it he grabs Kyle's arm with his free hand to keep the other man from continuing on if it went unnoticed. ]
Edited 2022-10-16 14:43 (UTC)
godshattering: (pic#15570269)

— petra

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-15 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's been a strange few days. An understatement so vast Claude thinks it might have several others compounded within it, but there's nothing to do but get through... whatever this is. The dream had started everything when he'd picked up that mirror, and now he avoids his own reflection which shows him every last thing he feared becoming in the war. Things have been different ever since.

There's the unsettling feeling which has been crawling through his skin as if he's being called to do something he doesn't understand. The more he's ignored it, the stronger and more insistent it becomes. Claude's currently trying to relegate it to some corner of his mind as he unlocks the door to the apartment. Maybe one of the books he'd borrowed has something about omens in it. It's quiet inside; Petra and Sylvain must be out somewhere. With a sigh he shuts the door, then realizes he isn't alone after all when he glances into the sitting area where someone stands with their back towards him looking out the window.

As he registers long white hair first, Claude stops in his tracks. There's a moment where he both hopes it is and isn't Lysithea because that would mean she's here, and it'd break his hard-working coping mechanism that at least no one else he knows to that level is in Abraxas. As if this is some burden to shoulder all on his own, is just something he needs to get through like everything else he'd carried throughout the war.

But then the person turns, and violet eyes look back at him, and Claude visibly flinches. It's not Lysithea at all. It's someone more shocking than seeing Petra and Sylvain again had been. More viscerally jarring, because this is someone whose burial he stood by and watched. ]


What are you doing here, Edelgard?

[ His tone is cool, even. Sometimes having such a tight grip on one's emotions comes in handy because that detachment doesn't match the ones roiling inside him to where even Claude can't tell what he feels right now. ]
Edited 2022-10-16 15:00 (UTC)
godshattering: (pic#15570272)

— sylvain

[personal profile] godshattering 2022-10-15 08:03 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Walking the streets of Cadens in the middle of the night doesn't hold the same calm for him it normally does, and does Claude ever resent that. Since arriving he's relied on these walks now and then to shuffle his thoughts like a deck of cards, pulling different ones out to examine now and then before putting them back. But now his mind is too scrambled, too full of everything and nothing and stretched thin between said thoughts and what to do, if there's anything more to be doing than volunteering here and there. He finds no answers tonight.

The chill in the air is what convinces him to give up for tonight and when he makes it back to Mag's finally, it's even later. Claude slips in through the tavern's door but then stands in the middle of the main room, hesitating. He doesn't want to go upstairs yet, which really only leaves one place to hang around.

Claude pours himself an ale, makes a mental note to bring the coins for it plus some extra to Mag in the morning, and takes a seat at the bar. Unfortunately, he's also chosen to sit by the stacks of clean glasses ready for opening tomorrow, and their angles show him both the dimming fire in the hearth and his reflection. He switches to looking at his drink until his reflection appears there. Never mind - he'll stare at the bartop instead.

It's too similar to the nightmares, Claude thinks to himself, fingers tracing over a gouge from a knife in the wood. Except now he doesn't fear being asleep, now it's all during waking hours. He's not sure which is worse. Maybe that makes it more fitting Gronder is once again haunting him when there's footsteps descending the stairs nearby. Maybe he isn't that surprised to look up and see Sylvain as if his thoughts had somehow brought him here. ]


You look rather cheerful.

[ He'd tried to say it as a tease but it lacks any of his own cheer, apparently unable to force that currently. That statement could be abrasive were it not for Claude knowing he looks every bit as weary as he sounds as if to say, me too. So. What better way to make up for it than to reach for one of those mugs and over the bar to get a drink ready for Sylvain, too. ]
Edited 2022-10-16 15:25 (UTC)
gynvael: (078)

OTA: horizon

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-15 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
I. Guests
(( cw: gore, violence, trauma of all kinds, childhood horrors, other usual witcher stuff ))
[ Normally, Geralt gives little thought to the few times he can sense someone in his domain. The tug of that cord that stretches. In part, he prefers to ignore that constant connection. For another, he simply doesn't give a fuck. If anyone's looking for him urgently, they can send a damn message.

This time, it's different. Uncomfortable. Like someone digging under his nails, inside his head. Maybe it's just his imagination. Maybe it's the fact that he's been feeling off since that fucking dream that wasn't a dream. A prickling over his skin, deep in his blood, that drags old memories and wounds to the surface he's long thought buried.

If you're unlucky enough to land unexpectedly in his domain, you're bound to run into the twisted oddities that've taken over Geralt's place.

  1. the exterior: a blizzard blows through the open yard. The winds are biting, harsh. Dark red stains bloom over the snow where the skeletons lay buried. There's no trail. It's everywhere, as though carnage has freshly swept through the place.

    Typically calm and watchful, the white wolf that prowls his mountain has grown erratic. In the past few days, it can often be seen feasting on a messy kill, muzzle stained in blood. A deer, probably. Or if you look closely, you might glimpse the familiar shape of a human limb. If you're a stranger—especially one that looks like a threat—the wolf will pounce.

    Around the walls of Kaer Morhen and along the snowy ground, vine-like tendrils creep and trail. The creature it belongs to is rare if impossible to spot, but its reaching branches make itself known as it slithers. Walk too close or pay too little attention, and you're liable to be grabbed: snatching at your hair, wrapping around your limbs, or even binding you in place.


  2. the interior: the halls of Kaer Morhen are locked, but anyone has a chance to slip past those locks by transporting straight inside. The fires are lit, but the corridors are devoid of warmth. The place looks far more dilapidated than usual: broken benches, spilled bowls, blood staining the floors.

    The medallion tree remains standing, though barely. The sealed split up the middle has splintered, a fissure that threatens to tear it in half once more. The vines can be found inside the walls, too. They curl around chairs, braziers, torches, twitching and shifting.

    And if you walk by a set of stairs leading down, a muffled echo of screams drift from deep beneath the bowls of the keep. Don't go down. If you try, Geralt will appear to stop you, and he will not be polite about it.

II. Visiting
[ Geralt an also be found walking into the domains around the Horizon. Not wander—walk. He'll go right in and it'll seem he's searching for something, someone. If you ask, he might explain. Or he might not.

Now and again, he might just pop into yours like everyone's been doing. It's fucking annoying, which his expression will demonstrate clearly, and he'll search for a quick exit. Unless something about your domain makes it so he can't. ]
Edited 2022-10-16 02:01 (UTC)
gynvael: (ml: 010)

jo (+ dean)

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-15 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
(( cw: child death/experimentation, general trauma, possible gore later ))

When he feels that dig under his skin, that disquieting pull that winds around him, he knows exactly what it is. He can't say why it's happening again, why it is that damn place, but it is. He's already tired of it. He wants to ignore it, but he can't, and something about the feeling makes his blood run extra hot.

So he goes inside. Steps past the snow that's now soaked dark with blood, the bones, pushes open the scorched doors of the keep. His need to find out who's prodding about where they shouldn't supersedes his absolute aversion to going down those stairs.

His boot lands on the dusty ground at the bottom of the stairs. The stench is thick and heavy: blood and death and rot and sickly sweet herbs. The screams are deafening.

He does not go inside. He has never gone inside. Even now, he won't, he can't. But the heavy iron door is cracked open. This is the first time he's seen it cracked open. (How even...?) Who the fuck—

He shoves it, swinging it wide. The dim torchlight in the corridors catches on the blood, making it shine. On the rusty chains hanging from the walls, the broken beds that are much too small for a grown man.

Perhaps it's a lost stranger. That's simpler. He can deal with a stranger. He needn't explain himself to a stranger. They will not have any knowledge of him to understand what they see.

It is not a stranger. Not a friend, either.

There's a roughness to his voice, like he can't breath. "What the fuck are you doing."
Edited 2022-10-15 23:07 (UTC)
gynvael: (024)

steve harrington.

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-15 08:40 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Geralt stops at the edge of what appears to be a forest wrapped in an eerie colourless shroud. The heavy stench of decay and stifling air hits him first. Then lightning flashing across the sky. Normally, he is not one to wander into others' homes. Especially not one that's been...fucked with. But he's been searching for Julie to no avail. This is merely yet another stop amongst many.

There's a road, at least. Empty, full of trees shed of their leaves. He rides his bike through, slow and cautious. (He's been reluctant to test what might become of his horse if he tried to ride her in his current state; he does not want to see her rotting away beneath him, real or not.) The engine rumbles through the dead silence in between claps of thunder. Slithering vines squelch. The place feels wet. Sticky. Like being swallowed whole by a river troll. What catches his attention, though, is not the oddity of the entire place. It's that, as he rides, he can see edges of something that once thrived underneath: a shop with deadened lights, a vast clearing filled with cars overgrown with twisting, pulsing tendrils.

It's here that he stops, uncertain if anyone's here. If he should keep going or if perhaps it may be worth turning back. He doesn't want to waste time digging where Julie will not be found. And the last thing he needs is to linger too long and trap himself in another unknown landscape.

After a moment, he starts to reverse out of the drive-in theater—though he's not aware of what a drive-in theater even is. Or, at least he means to leave. A sharp trilling roar cuts sharply through before he can. He spins around, just in time to see heavy footfalls charging from a distance. ]
Edited 2022-10-21 20:56 (UTC)
gynvael: (268)

nadine.

[personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-15 08:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Between the dead rising and a taut, crackling energy that stretches across the city, Geralt decided to accompany Nadine outside the city walls. As much as he wants to say she shouldn't be out here, he knows she needs to. She has herbs she's collecting for her healing and patients. No shortage of them these days.

He takes Roach, though the distance isn't far. Just in case they need a fast ride back. The hour's later than he'd prefer, the sun close to setting, but he anticipates they'll return before sundown. He's tense—perhaps more than usual. Certainly more than a simple trip of this nature warrants. But when has anything been simple lately?

A fact which makes itself known when he hears the distant clip of hooves. Two horses, no sound of wheels. A travelling merchant, perhaps, but those would be rare these days given the circumstances. And this is not one of the main roads for merchants to travel.

He touches Nadine's arm, interrupting what she might be doing. "We've got company."
Edited 2022-10-16 14:21 (UTC)
tobeclosetohim: (Hide the sun until you pray)

ᴏᴛᴀ | ᴠɪꜱɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ | ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴀᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-15 08:43 pm (UTC)(link)
[ You are welcome to ping Jo/Roadhouse Characters to play in this part along with you,
or you can use it as a location for your characters & others with them popping through. ]

The Roadhouse is offered as a safe haven to those who need it in quiet times, and even more now when the world is an explosion of problems, some of which they can point to, and some seem to be happening for no reason, which is great. Until it isn’t. As all the Horizon, and especially the deeply connected locations without it, begin to malfunction, so does the Roadhouse.

People who come in, new and old, to the hunter’s hangout will begin to realize things are wrong. The jukebox cranks itself to a bleeding noise level without warning. The bar bottles shake or shatter on their own without being touched. A barrage of hunter voices suddenly whispers through from every direction, all over layered, all telling the stories of the worst horrors of what monsters have done. Occasional smells of sulfur or sudden cold spots. Creaking. Ectoplasm suddenly excreting from random places. Blood stains on the floor, or trails of it from the door into the back rooms.

It will do any combination of the above but then look normal the next second. It flickers randomly without warning from its fully formed, perfect normal appearance of a smoking ruin, then changes to a room full of screaming shadow-hunters trying to beat the walls, the windows, and the doors, which are all locked, before the place starts burning down, swarmed by demons.

The Roadhouse will also be listening to people’s fears and associations with what haunted hours should be doing, and then it’s suddenly doing it. All haunted house horror schtick, at the smallest or largest levels, welcome here.
tobeclosetohim: (Cause I'll start another fight)

→ ʟᴜᴄɪꜰᴇʀ

[personal profile] tobeclosetohim 2022-10-15 09:10 pm (UTC)(link)
stations: (ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴀᴄᴄɪᴅᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ)

ⲟⲣⲉⲛ → ⲏⲟꞅⲓⲍⲟⲛ (ⲧⲏⲉ ⲱⲟꞅ𝓵ⲇ)

[personal profile] stations 2022-10-15 10:42 pm (UTC)(link)
content warning: child abuse & neglect, murder, grief, psychological trauma


( The ground beneath his feet is shiny and slick-wet, black enough that some patches of it have gone as reflective as pavement puddles under streetlamps after a rainstorm. It ripples as he walks, but strangely, his footsteps make no sound. His breathing makes no sound. The only thing he can hear is soft static, fuzzy, with a high-pitched tinnitus whine that fades in and out. It doesn't take long to identify the source — stacked in the center of the room are a dozen analog televisions that look a lot like the kind his foster homes often had in the late nineties or early two thousands.

He moves closer like it's a compulsion, drawn by curiosity — and by the fact that there's nowhere else to really go. Just endless fog, ominous enough to give off the vibe that you're likely to run into an invisible map barrier like in a video game if you wander out into it.

One or two of the screens are fuzzy with snow — not always the same two; it seems like every few minutes another screen will switch off or on, scenes will swap out, the whole thing flickering and neon like the world's most unsettling cyberpunk Christmas tree. Aside from those, there's an impressive variety of content.

  • One screen plays a muffled, tinny version of Casablanca, or the old Power Rangers show from the 90s with its audio distorted, or Gilligan's Island — or a handful of other cable TV classics.

  • A couple of them seem to be a live feed from the security camera in a gas station — largely blank and boring, though if you catch it at the right time one of them will show a painstakingly long scene of Jack, detached and disassociated, slitting open a man's throat with a box cutter.

  • One shows a child of six or seven (though he's so skinny and small, you'd be forgiven for mistaking him as younger) wandering outside of an apartment complex alone, searching for food.

  • Once in a while, the screen is white font on a black background, just text that reads things like wake up, or why can't you wake up? or why won't she wake up? Rarely, an even worse variant: it's your fault she'll never wake up.

  • One particular screen never changes, never wavers, never blinks or fades or shuts down. It's of a hospital room, with a single occupant in a single bed. It might seem like a still picture at first, unless you notice the EKG machine beside it steadily pulsing in a heartbeat rhythm. It's a young woman, Jack's age, wilted through years of lifelessness and vacancy — but still beautiful, her red hair a halo of wild curls around her head.

  • The rest of them he doesn't recognize — probably because they belong to the Summoned who joins him.


  • If you show up after Jack's been there for a while, it's also possible to catch him sitting cross-legged on the ground with a Super Nintendo controller in his hand — and a free one open beside him. Look, he's been in here a while, he got bored, it's easier for him to manifest things than it might be for most Summoned. He can't seem to manipulate his way out, but he can at least play some Mario Kart or something to pass the time.
    )
    Edited 2022-10-15 23:41 (UTC)
    gynvael: (140)

    dean.

    [personal profile] gynvael 2022-10-15 11:15 pm (UTC)(link)
    (( cw: child death/experimentation, general trauma, horror shit ))

    [ It is, in the end, easier to be in the a Horizon. He finds he can't stand people right now. How they look at him with wariness and distrust. It shouldn't bother him. He doesn't know why it suddenly does. This—nothing about it is new. Since when does he give a shit?

    But after his temper got the better him, after he's sent more than one person reeling with a mere brush, he just. Wants to be alone. He doesn't give a shit who might land in the halls, in the yard. A few have. He remains in his room upstairs, drinking and waiting until they leave. It tastes bitter. Everything tastes bitter, ashes and sour, and he can't even care. (It's not like him, he thinks, not really. Is it?)

    Only when he's crossing the main hall in search of more vodka (he can conjure it, he knows, but the motion is what feels natural)—that's when he hears it. A dull pounding from the stairs that wind downwards. His instincts are immediately on alert. There's something here. Something that shouldn't be.

    His sword appears in his hand. He hesitates at first. Does it matter? In the a Horizon? The Singularity hasn't been right, though. Not for the past few days. Which means...

    It matters. What might be down there.

    He takes a deep breath. Forces his feet to move, descending. Darkness engulfs the walls, the stone. A foot or two from the door, he hears it beneath the thumping: grunting or cursing, he recognizes the voice by now. The fuck—

    Geralt slams his hand on the door in response. Shit. ]
    Dean?
    Edited 2022-10-15 23:43 (UTC)
    stations: (26)

    ⲥ𝓁ⲟ𝓈ⲉⲇ → ⲕⲩ𝓁ⲉ

    [personal profile] stations 2022-10-15 11:29 pm (UTC)(link)
    𝐼'𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝
    𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒
    𝐺𝑢𝑛𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠


    ( It's been a terrible fucking week.

    When the whispers first started, he thought maybe it was a symptom of his condition resurfacing. Like maybe he wasn't diligent enough about trying to get in the occasional hour that seems to reduce the worst of his symptoms, like maybe sleep deprivation might've been coaxing the hallucinations back stronger than they've been in months. Except, no amount of sleeping (what little he could actually physically force himself to do) seemed to relieve it.

    If anything, it's been getting progressively worse with each passing day. It's gotten to the point that he can almost feel Spencer's breath against the shell of his ear, like the lunatic asshole is standing right behind him. It seems imaginary-head-voice-Spencer's been bored, because he keeps whispering gradually more violent, psychopathic suggestions — particularly when Jack's zoned out, when he's at his groggiest, when it takes him a second or two too long to go wait, what the fuck am I doing? and stop himself from listening. It's gotten to the point that Jack hasn't been able to try and sleep, because that dickbag decides to up the ante as soon as he settles in and closes his eyes.

    And let's not even mention the screens. That fucking place he keeps winding up in any time he tries to visit the gas station. No, we're absolutely not going to talk about that.

    He's agitated, frayed at the edges. Mentally fucked up, at the very edge of his rope, and on the tipping point of flat-out snapping.

    Which is probably a horrible time for him to walk into the room he shares with a teleporting ninja experiencing a particularly unpleasant bout of face blindness.
    )