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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.
no subject
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~?"
no subject
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!"
no subject
"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.
no subject
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
As he is then continuously pinned down, it takes moments before he is fully subdued. Freeing himself here and there. Breaking and snapping any shapes that try to confine him. He thrashes, moves, and whirls, and it is when he is placed against the floor that color begins to ebb from his stomach. Drumming itself up his throat and back down into his stomach. Only to repeat again. The heat begins growing hotter and hotter, and the once cold frigid scales along his figure begin to grow hot from heat boiling within. A hue of blue starts to escape the notches of his scales, like the steam from a kettle exhausting itself.
Claws dig into the earth beneath him - a fire grows from within.
roll: 8
No, no, no, if he goes burning the forest...
He tries to quickly climb his way up and, hopefully, he can pull on Lancer's horns with the tentacles he has left to make the breath uselessly be let out skyward without any damages. That's what's ideal, at least. There's one desperate plea he tries, as well.
"Mister Lancer, please- I don't want you to get hurt!"
roll: 16
The thrum of energy that was released exhausts throughout the rest of his body, as a blue and black mist exerts with a rush from every notch of his armor plating. The boiling of scales cease and they immediately begin to return cold and frigid.
He does not relent from there and instead begins to climb along the branches and make his way up to the top!! Because as an animal - he SEES the sky now, and that's where it is he wants to be. UP THEY GO!!!!
no subject
...Ah.
Okay, actually, getting up to the sky wouldn't be good for either of them. Mizuki doesn't know what's up there, for starters, but more than that, he also is pretty sure that big, scary dragon flying around the forest just means more burning. He huffs to himself.
"This one won't listen to us."
He knows. It's why he just sighs. But he does look up at Lancer to yell one final thing to him.
"I hope you can forgive me for this."
And he coils all his remaining tentacles around Lancer's torso, and every single stinging cell is activated at once, pricking into the spaces between the scales and injecting all of his toxin. People have mentioned before, when he stings them so harshly, it feels a bit like lightning being shot through them. He wonders what it's like for a dragon? Mizuki's stung himself before, but seemed completely unaffected by whatever it was, so he'll never truly know.
He wants to. What are you feeling, Lancer? What is going through your head? He hopes he doesn't have to see the hallucinations for too long before his brain just convinces him to "shut down"...
no subject
After the struggle of willpower against the feeling of lighting sporadically thrumming through the extent of his inner body. The warm boiling feeling of madness and rage that kept itself within the confinements of Adronight - the self-installed cursed armor. Seems to feel lukewarm but even with that feeling. The anger within him does not subside, but the body succumbs and he slides down through the branches of the forest, and slams with a loud shaking thud into the roots of the forest.
What ever is he feeling? What always does, why does he exist, why does he exist, why does he exist?
He will stay like that until his energy is fully depleted. Return to his normal form, a broken man, a worthless servant. Then - turns back when the forest is angry and makes him relive all that he hates and fears all over again - hopefully there Mizuki will impart on pity and paralyze him again.
no subject
What was he doing? Oh, right, Lancer! You know what Lancer kind of sounds like?? Dancer. Hehe. He's gonna wiggle Lancer's arms as he's being pulled out of the forest. Dancer. The giggly jellyfish does this basically the whole way back to the Grove. Hope he didn't want his dignity, because, uh, that's all gone now.
...
For what its worth, he does settle Lancer up by the well when he gets back.
no subject
THE DRAGON lays there with the ebbing depletion of mana holding the servant into its existence. Especially after expending all that energy - and then after a few hours, a mist subsides from the dragon and instead there it leaves the Knight without armor, lying on the floor.
Sadly servants can't sleep, so it takes all but a few seconds for him to flicker awake - having subsided his existence from the Dragon. Any and all status ailments have been left with him, which is a good thing, to say the least. As he attempts to stand on his legs, he looks an absolute hot fucking mess - a wreck actually. He'd probably fall in the well if he wasn't conscious of it being a well.
Is Mizuki even still around??? He has no idea what just happened.
no subject
Doing well! He's still not down from his high. Not until his body can produce more toxins, anyway.
1/2
GOES TO BRACKET
The headache is killing him. IT'S OKAY MIZUKI! Mun forgot, he literally has a skill that makes him cleanse any ailments - which is similar to what the forest is trying to do to him. Lancelot can sense this depravity coming again, and rather than fall senseless to dragoonhood. He summons out his shield and activates its magic. This prevents him from being cursed - specifically mentally and takes away any current demerits trying to feed off of him.
We are safe.
He just.
Sits there with the shield flitting back out of existence from his side. While slamming his head back, and letting out an annoyed cursed. ]
Fucking - damn it.
no subject
I forgot you were there!!! Scared me~. [ He doesn't even look a little scared?? And judging by the lack of urgency to which he rolls, there's really no fear, like, at all? He does point accusatorily at Lancer from his spot in the grass, though. ]
Hey, wait, where'd Mister Scaly go???
no subject
... You? [ Brow furrows slightly. ] You, dealt with it?
[ The dragon he means. ]
no subject
…
What’s “it”?
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[ Capabable? Lancer just thinks, he knocked him a bit too hard on the head?!?!? Like what is wrong with this jellyfish. ]
1/2
Yes, I took care of him. Pull him aaaaall the way back here when he fell down.
...
no subject
...
[ Mizuki stares at the sky again and contemplates life. ]
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