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sticksandbones2023-08-04 10:59 am
- !event,
- !tdm,
- arknights: gnosis,
- arknights: mizuki,
- arknights: shalem,
- baldur's gate iii: astarion ancunín,
- elsword: elsword,
- fate: bb,
- handead anthem: gara ukai,
- i'm the grim reaper: brook,
- jujutsu kaisen: toge inumaki,
- original: caoimhe ailbhe,
- original: felicity morais,
- original: rennuid tathviel
Event & TDM 003
You open your eyes.
It feels like you’ve been here before, like you’re finally home. Today, the sun shines brightly, brilliantly, on the open forest clearing making up Aldric’s Grove. Vines wrap around old buildings, overgrowth covers ruins of what once were homes and shops, and weeds poke up through the cracks of foundations. Before you stands an inn, a well, and one hundred beautiful flowers peppered throughout the clearing. Be not fooled by their beauty, wanderer; should you stray too close, the flowers are happy to bite.
Fret not, however; should you seek escape from the carnivorous foliage, the inn is plenty safe from attacks. Perhaps you ought to get acquainted with others like you, lounging in the lobby with nowhere to go. Perhaps you should find yourself a room, a place to stay. After all, room and board is completely free of charge! Should you dig through the bedside table of your new room, you’ll find only one thing within: A Polaroid photograph of yourself from years ago. You were younger, then — or, if age doesn’t define you, you were different. Still, you remember posing for this photograph… don’t you?
If the photo is too much for you, a trip to the river might offer respite. The oppressive fog wrapping around the grove and obscuring much of the distant forest some miles out won’t let you wander too far. Luckily, there’s a stretch of river perfect for a round of fishing, playing in, or simply relaxing by. Mushrooms grow along the banks and on the trees, but remember to say “thank you” to the forest if you take them. You wouldn’t like the consequences otherwise.
cw: madness, hallucinations
You might have had luck avoiding the gnashing fangs of the flowers thus far, but they begin to get restless and aggressive the longer they go without feeding. They can’t quite uproot themselves and chase you down, but they will stretch their stalks as far as they can, unfurl their petals and try to wrap sharp leaves around your legs and anything else within reach. If you aren’t careful, their fangs will pierce your flesh, and they will drink from you until they drain you dry. Shout for help if they latch on. Surely someone will come to your aid.
…just try not to look at them much. The flowers take passive abilities of anyone they feed from, and that means they possess powers of their own. Stare for a moment too long, and you’ll begin to see your nightmares brought to life, feel a crawling down your back like one million insect feet, a grappling at your ankles as something tries to drag you under the metaphorical tides. Black tendrils sweep over your eyes, they grip the facades of buildings, they tear your friends to shreds and eat them whole. Focus. Focus on that voice telling you to snap out of it, on the people around you waving their hands in front of your eyes. It isn’t real. Blink, shake your head, and clear your thoughts.
Or don’t. “Give in,” a sultry voice murmurs, “Let me consume you.”
cw: auditory hallucinations, animal butchery
From the fenced-off, locked-up manor to the northwest of the Grove, a spill of magic begins to leak out from boarded-up windows. It’s gradual at first before it suddenly bursts, and that’s when everything starts to go haywire. The Manor’s heart aches, friend. Something in that house is oh-so-miserable with no way out… and it intends to make you feel its pain.
Every regret you’ve ever had — every word left unspoken, every lie you’ve told, everything you believe you’ve done wrong — those feelings are brought to the surface and magnified. No matter where you look, what you do, or how much you try to distract yourself, those emotions will always bubble to the surface.
You might think wandering into the forest will help you flee from yourself for a time, but as soon as you cross the threshold, the path back to the clearing closes behind you in a rustle of leaves. The only way out is forward, it seems, but the forest won’t play fair. The path will shift unexpectedly, blocking your route, forcing you to backtrack, but never quite allowing escape. All the while, voices fill your mind, chasing after you no matter where you go. They are the murmurs of those you have wronged, the murmurs of a conscience slighted.
Seeking out a companion in the labyrinth will quell them, for a time. Should your heart weigh too heavy, confessing to your labyrinth-partner what you’re grappling with will absolve you of your guilt and leave you feeling clear-headed enough to escape. At that point, the forest, too, seems content to let you solve the maze without interference.
Should you escape fairly, without harming the labyrinth, you’ll be rewarded: A freshly-hunted game animal from your homeland is dropped at your feet just as you step back into the clearing. Enjoy it, for you will not have the opportunity to get another. The forest only allows one round per person.
The residents of Aldric’s Grove have had a rough time here, but not everything has to be bad. On the night of the new moon, the Shopkeeper leaves his store for the night, and alongside the Trader — who normally sits outside the inn by her stall and her giant turtle — he constructs a bonfire some distance from the carnivorous plants. Nearby to it are tables with a feast set upon them, free for everyone to enjoy. There’s music playing from… somewhere. Don’t think about it too hard. The wispy, sentient shadows that comprise the Shopkeeper and Trader are happy to dance with you, too, if you ask.
Enjoy your night, friends. You’ve made it to the end of the month, and you deserve a break.
CLICK TO EXPAND!
❖ Several patches of the murderous flowers seem to have been electrocuted, lit on fire or cut.
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A pause, the forest is almost all too still, and the air around them tenses. Then with swiftness, the Knight leaves from where he stands with a ferocious kick. The winds bear against them, and the trees snap as he rushes forth with his body barreling toward Mizuki. If he is unmoved the lance that comes for him does not even aim to hit at the body speaking to him, instead, Lancelot's weapon strikes in a direction where camouflaged tendrils from Mizuki may be.
It is out of his own interest and instinct to attack, but if he strikes nothing and earns Mizuki's Ire. The Knight will not attempt to fight him, less ill will bleed from the other after Lancelot incited this attack. He will remain on the defense, or stand there after he has made his action. Wondering if at all, his instincts were on the mark about something strange about this being - and if Mizuki does not speak.
Then he will ask sharply, "What are you?"
1/2
Please, he worked so hard to grow those back, too…
"My! What good intuition you have, mister!!"
2/2
"I really don't recommend going and stabbing other people's appendages like that if they look weird, though, okay? If you did that to, say, Mister Elsword's arm, I'd be real sad!!" Or, perhaps, "really fucking pissed" fits better. "I'm a sea jelly. Those are my stingers. I tend to keep them camouflaged because they can be a bit off-putting. Sorry, I would've said something sooner if I knew you could see them!"
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"A Foreigner?" It is stated, in a quick breath. Lancelot raises the stuck appendage with his lance, and immediately, with a quick flick of his wrist. The appendage whirls away, and he turns his head towards this entity, "I was uncertain if you were real or not, it did not help that your abilities seem to specialize in hiding parts of yourself. Forgive me, for falling into the offense. I am a Knight and a member of the Chaldean Order. We are at ends with all that we meet, and cannot falter in any way. You may call me Lancer."
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FINALLY, he will answer his question - though he gave that much away earlier, "Yes."
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Mizuki is going to slip from being awkwardly near-pinned by his weapon by ducking under his arm and spinning around him to hook his own arms around his other.
"That's alright. You're not alone." Mizuki's always got voices in his head, even when the forest isn't fucking with him. "How about we stick together, then? We'll figure out how to quell it together, okay?"
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"Don't do that," Is his sharp request, continuing his march forward, "I am in no good mood, to tolerate your antics. I came to this forest to get away from others, and not be pursued."
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~~~ edgy broody LP starts playing ~~~
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tfw nat 1
A forest aches, disturbed by this Knight that has not only inflicted a wound upon its trees once - but now twice. The utterance of it's agonies seems to be spewing worse into his head, minding thoughts of blame deep in its depravity, 'Come out from your castle, you damnable Knight. You who have killed many a good man in your madness, and in your wronged love of the Queen.'
It drags him into remembrance, the color of blood and its maddening scent begin to filter in his mind and he is all but gripping at his helm attempting to make his head silent, "No! It is my fault? It is my fault"
A hoarse breath, sounding akin to a ravenous growl, "- if I had just never existed if I had just never lived, then surely - the Kingdom of Camelot would have never come to fall."
[ HEY!! ATL EAST HE FUCKING DID IT!! LMAO!!! except now he's definitely falling into maddness. ]
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Well! This sure is! A lot!!! Mizuki isn't so good in situations like this one. Calming people down when they're definitely spiraling... the most he can do is make them even more insane. Sigh.
Mizuki does take the time to scoop up his severed tentacle to toss out into the brush and vines, hoping it could offer as some sort of apology for his company's disrespect to it. Anything to keep it from exacerbating things.
"Maybe not like that, Mister Lancer." Ugh, he really doesn't want to have to wrangle this guy and try to navigate through the forest. What a hassle. "Hey, hey, how about you focus on my voice, hm??"
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With what little sense he has, he tries to urge the other one last time, "Now."
Guttural is the sound that comes from the helm of his head, almost akin to the roar of a beast coming through.
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At least the tentacles aren't letting themselves stay furled. Rather, though still camouflaged, their shadows creeping along the forest floor. He's clearly prepared for some kind of fight? Perhaps he's used to this.
"Don't worry, I'll bring you home safe, okay~?"
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Even if it was not the same, he would not fail her again.
Failure, that was all his worth - servants after all are predestined to adhere to their own conceptions. In the same way, Achilles's story ends with the arrow to his heel.
"You are not l i s t e n i n g." Deep and guttural, here he was once more admonished by his failures and drowning in the madness that equated to them. Unable to find his Master, and finding himself easily dissuaded by this new realm. The armor around his body aches with the sound of metals gnawing against metals, and the misty aura that slipped like a fog through the notches of his armor. Seem to thicken, and exert itself through each plate along his body.
The enemy - which is all that the Lancer can see at this point. Seems to ignore the camouflaged presence of tendrils invoking their stealth. Instead, he has committed his ferocity to the figure that stands before him - not heeding his suggestion, "Do you hope to die?"
Nerves are able to be withheld - but only for a moment as the madness bickers in his head joining in tandem with that which the forest wants to whisper to him.
Foolhardy you are to think yourself capable. What are you but a man that bends beneath the woes of your own fascinations? Disgusting you would think yourself a Knight, disgusting that you have killed all that you claim to love - and broke the heart of many. Worse, that the modern world hails you as nothing but a Germanic fantasy - wrought into existence out of jealousy... What are you but a disgusting story?
"ENOUGH!" He knows, he knows . . . Why does it look like Mizuki is the one speaking this to him? A Lance comes forward and he seems to point it towards the other, "SHUT UP!"
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"How would you like to proceed?" he asks, almost comically to Lancelot. His head tilts a little, though, and he seems to answer himself instead. "Nonlethally, required. It's not his fault."
Alright, then. He doesn't bother with the camouflage if Lancelot can just sense his whereabouts anyway, and thus wields his harpoon and tries to guide Lancelot back through the forest. If they can get closer to the Grove, maybe that'll calm him down? Or, at the very least, save him the headache of destroying more trees. He's going to have a hell of a time navigating the maze-y forest that'll attempt to block his path, but he has to do something, and he really wants to make sure Lancelot lives.
1/2 ..... nat 1 be like
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ We've Lost him
⠀⠀ ⠀We've Lost him,
⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ We've Lost him - - -
The trickling of words resonated deep within his chest, a thudding burst of mana like a heartbeat seemed to bundle forth from him. All that was maddening within boiling into a heightening plateau. Embedded there within his heart were grievances most lost in a hot pot of boiling aptitude. The kettle was screaming hot, and in a flicker of darkness, his saint graph became altered.
It is his voice, and not his voice all the same - a deep dark guttural sound emits from the helm of this Knight. The release of a Noble Phantasm always comes with a vocal ritual - and it is these words that leave his mouth:
" SINK DOWN INTO THE EDGES OF WHAT LAYS BENEATH THE HORIZON, OH DISTANT KING - - THINK NOT OF ME ! RELEASE: ARONDIGHT ! " There is power to these words, and as he speaks them a pressure exudes forth from him. Pushing back against whatever would approach him, then in a matter of moments. It is not a physical change or crackling of bones that is heard, it is merely an entire revamp of one's saint graph - a painful process in itself if one understood what this meant.
If your soul had substance and you were told it was wrong, then had it forcibly remade - it is simply like this for him. The Noblephantasm is that, the sins of his feelings and all the hatred of all things for what he did, and the way the world views him, all wholly warps and churns the essence of what he is. Into a monster, suitable enough to become what everyone thinks he is, including himself. A monster.
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You get that, a wave of pressure much like force wafts through the trees and billows around the area with the short eruption and completion of his form. It is so fast, and quick the way he bellows forth in his large shape barely able to fit within the confines of the space they are in.
The forest is angry, he is angry, and Mizuki is still so kind to think only of how to help him.
The most monstrous roar exits his mouth, the glowing colors of blue glow brightly within the insides of its maw. The sound of metal armor clattering against each other with each movement he makes, it is evident that his scales are hard like the armor he wore before. If you look hard enough too, you can be certain that it IS, the armor he wore before. Reshaped in the form of this Dragon before Mizuki.
Wings span outwards but cannot take flight, or hold even wind beneath them for they are squeezed tightly by the forest around them. He is bound to the ground and eager to move himself forward towards Mizuki, with means and manners to set his teeth to sink into their form. He heeded no mind to the tendrils that were at the other's command. Again, he rushes forward, claws gripping with tenacity at the roots of the forest and his long neck whirling forth with teeth baring itself downwards at Mizuki -
1/2 roll: 20....... how are we doing this, Sheep-
But he doesn't. No, instead, he laughs, cheerfully.
"Whoa~! Look at you, Mister Dragon! How majestic! Hey, hey, please don't hurt our friend, the Forest, much more, okay? They won't be very kind with you if you do~!" Despite his chipper, though, he does need to deescalate this pretty fast, doesn't he? While he might chirp at Lancelot that the forest will be upset, it... well, genuinely will be, and he'd feel bad if anything happened to Lancelot on his account. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it. Just give me a moment, okay?"
2/2
"Hi, Mister Lancer. You're very big like this, you know~? It's hard to talk to you. How about we calm down, just a little~? If you still feel like hurting me after, I'll let you."
LFMSDFNKJSL 4 . . . the rng gods have demanded of us
The Beast wildly thrashes, and Mizuki would begin to realize that Lancer has been reduced to nothing more than literally animalistic tendencies. Anything he does, is out of sheer rage of instinct. His maw is bound shut and the Dragon quarrels with it, adjusting its neck back and attempting to buck its snout away. However, each tendril whips itself around him tighter and the more he fights it the tighter it binds against him. Until finally, it snaps him shut.
Long enough for Mizuki to bound himself on top of the bridge of his nose looking down into the colors of blackened eyes. They flare up looking towards him, glowing a soft blue hue.
As Mizuki finishes what he had just said, like an animal, Lancer - or rather Berserker now. Begins thrashing itself around like that one Pokemon move. In an attempt to get Mizuki off, but also unfurl the tendrils from his mouth. He all but capsizes on himself, letting his wings burrow into the trees, caring little whether or not he breaks anything around him. Like an alligator barrel rolling, he starts thrashing around... Violently.
roll: 15
"Hey, hey, I promised I'd stop you from doing anything more. Please, Mister Lancer, I don't want anything bad to happen to you. Do I have to hurt you...? I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do here, I don't have anyone to tell me..." Sigh. He gently pats his scales again, looking into those blue-glowing eyes with a blue bioluminescence of his own. "Please don't be upset with me for what I'm about to do, okay?"
The rest of his tentacles splay, and he sends as many of them to snake around Lancer's neck so that he could squeeze. The intent clear to choke the beast.
roll: 13
roll: 8
roll: 16
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1/2
GOES TO BRACKET
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