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goodmorrow2023-11-25 11:36 pm
morrowmods) wrote in goodmorrow2023-11-25 11:36 pm
Entry tags:
Event: Arrogance is in Everything I Do
arrogance is in everything I do
if you think my winter is cold
A Cold Wind
For the last several weeks, the village has been blessed by visions of the future and of the gourd-creatures that came to visit at night. But that all appears to be taperiong off entirely. Townsfolks disposed of the carved pumpkins once they started to spoil, and the monsters subsided accordingly. For now, at least.
Since then, the temperature has been steadily dropping. The standard novitiate robes increasingly feel thin against the elements, though those who have achieved higher levels will find thicker outerwear provided to them, progressively ornate in accordance with rank. Some of the veterans who refuse to pledge to a higher rank try to spread word of places outside of town where beasts can be hunted for their pelts, though the native townsfolk all advise against following the suggestions of "those rascal vandals," if asked. They insist that nothing good lives out there.
But there does seem to be a bonus for those brave enough to venture out into the verdant patch between the graveyard and the monastery, a boon to those seeking a bit of extra warmth, a protein other than the stews and soups usually offered, or just a new adventure. Though they aren't always visible, a patient hunter might notice a faint scratching sound just before a patch of soil unsettles itself. That small warning is all they'll have before a thorn-pelted creature digs its way up from underground and bounds onto the grassy knoll. They are enormous beasts, standing at more than half the height of an average man. They also seem to be more earthen than a traditional Dire Wolf, with pelts that appear far more akin to vines and branches than traditional canines. But those that slay such massive beasts will find that their skin can be pruned down into a coat as well as any normal wolf pelt. The meat cooks up just as well, if the taste is a bit gamey. At the very least, it's an animal that provides its own garnish.
Since then, the temperature has been steadily dropping. The standard novitiate robes increasingly feel thin against the elements, though those who have achieved higher levels will find thicker outerwear provided to them, progressively ornate in accordance with rank. Some of the veterans who refuse to pledge to a higher rank try to spread word of places outside of town where beasts can be hunted for their pelts, though the native townsfolk all advise against following the suggestions of "those rascal vandals," if asked. They insist that nothing good lives out there.
But there does seem to be a bonus for those brave enough to venture out into the verdant patch between the graveyard and the monastery, a boon to those seeking a bit of extra warmth, a protein other than the stews and soups usually offered, or just a new adventure. Though they aren't always visible, a patient hunter might notice a faint scratching sound just before a patch of soil unsettles itself. That small warning is all they'll have before a thorn-pelted creature digs its way up from underground and bounds onto the grassy knoll. They are enormous beasts, standing at more than half the height of an average man. They also seem to be more earthen than a traditional Dire Wolf, with pelts that appear far more akin to vines and branches than traditional canines. But those that slay such massive beasts will find that their skin can be pruned down into a coat as well as any normal wolf pelt. The meat cooks up just as well, if the taste is a bit gamey. At the very least, it's an animal that provides its own garnish.
opulent and imperial
Devotion
The Devotion ceremony this lunar cycle focuses on revering the gifts received from the Old Ones. Ornamentation is the order of the day, and the church officials have spared nothing in their elaborate decoration of the devotional space. The hall is opulent, dazzling in the precious metals and gemstones draped over nearly every surface. Even the masks issued to devotees are gold and silver, often encrusted with heavy stones. Some revelers wearing robes of higher ranks are also wearing ornate neckpieces to allow for additional support to prevent their heads from bowing under the weight of their personal decorations.
The speeches this month explain the connection. Out of all the riches and finery that the Old Ones have brought to Revelbrooke, none are more precious than the pilgrims from other worlds. They are the true vessels of the will of the Old Ones, destined to bring their village into a new era. And for this proof of Devotion, they pray in thanks and appreciation for these gifts, which the town will watch over and polish until even the most rebellious novitiates have accepted the Old Ones into their hearts.
As silly as the intelligible portion of the sermon might sound, something feels strange when the elders slip into chanting in the tongue of the Old Ones. The travelers from other worlds will begin to feel an odd sort of rigidity settle over them. Perhaps at first it feels like the urge to sit up a little straighter, or to speak more formally than they normally would. But somehow, by the end of the sermons, all this finery makes much more sense. Of course this celebration is for them. Why isn't every Devotion dedicated to them? They are the gifts from beyond the stars, aren't they? It's high time that they are recognized for what they are.
This air of nobility will remain with them for the remainder of the evening, as even the sloppiest fishmonger novitiate is careful to use every utensil for its intended purpose and sip drinks with a pinky out. Surely everyone will remain polite and full of decorum, lest the festivities end with a proper midnight duel. Proper swords would be provided in such a case, but the church officials would really prefer that conflicts not go quite that far...
Unfortunately for those who skipped the Devotion ceremony, the attendees will return to their homes still carrying themselves with an overblown arrogance that they won't start to shake until they've gotten a good night's sleep. Hopefully there aren't any peas under their mattresses to keep them awake and cranky until their pretty princess needs are met.
The speeches this month explain the connection. Out of all the riches and finery that the Old Ones have brought to Revelbrooke, none are more precious than the pilgrims from other worlds. They are the true vessels of the will of the Old Ones, destined to bring their village into a new era. And for this proof of Devotion, they pray in thanks and appreciation for these gifts, which the town will watch over and polish until even the most rebellious novitiates have accepted the Old Ones into their hearts.
As silly as the intelligible portion of the sermon might sound, something feels strange when the elders slip into chanting in the tongue of the Old Ones. The travelers from other worlds will begin to feel an odd sort of rigidity settle over them. Perhaps at first it feels like the urge to sit up a little straighter, or to speak more formally than they normally would. But somehow, by the end of the sermons, all this finery makes much more sense. Of course this celebration is for them. Why isn't every Devotion dedicated to them? They are the gifts from beyond the stars, aren't they? It's high time that they are recognized for what they are.
This air of nobility will remain with them for the remainder of the evening, as even the sloppiest fishmonger novitiate is careful to use every utensil for its intended purpose and sip drinks with a pinky out. Surely everyone will remain polite and full of decorum, lest the festivities end with a proper midnight duel. Proper swords would be provided in such a case, but the church officials would really prefer that conflicts not go quite that far...
Unfortunately for those who skipped the Devotion ceremony, the attendees will return to their homes still carrying themselves with an overblown arrogance that they won't start to shake until they've gotten a good night's sleep. Hopefully there aren't any peas under their mattresses to keep them awake and cranky until their pretty princess needs are met.
rich in keepsakes
Beautiful Things
Normally, the Devotion is easily discarded with no real outward indication that one was in attendance. But this time, there is no hiding that one went to hear the elders speak, regardless of how they feel about the experience when they return to their senses. From the moment they wake after their post-Devotion cooldown, they'll find an ostentatious gemstone embedded in their foreheads. Likewise, their robes will be encrusted with matching stones, marking them as precious and delicate, the blessing of the Old Ones. Trying to remove the head-stones will prove itself a dangerous endeavor: the skin around the stone feels more like a smooth, hard porcelain, and is apt to crack before it will yield the glittering mark.
For the first few days, it might just exist as a gaudy annoyance. But over time, that hard feeling spreads, leaving a sense of being hollowed out somehow. If they're the type to study their religious texts, they might find themselves losing focus mid-verse and instead begin whispering in a tongue they haven't learned yet, manifesting the moaning, slurping sounds that pledge themselves to be an empty vessel for the Old Ones to use. The fits are temporary, and can be interrupted by an onlooker, but engaging in such prayer will make their gemstone take on a faint glow, giving the rest of their face a gaunt and sunken-eyed look in comparison.
After about a week, the gemstone-marked are nearly untouchable. The townsfolk are kind enough to send extra portions and blankets since so many of them report feeling unwell, but none of it seems to help with the feeling of hollowness. Moreover, the mark seems to have left them afflicted with a physical fragility as well. The threat of skin cracking around the gemstone is very real now, and has spread throughout their entire bodies. Even though they can move normally enough, their bodies have grown almost glasslike in durability. A bad fall could shatter a person's leg into pieces too small to set back together, and a simple game of tag could quickly turn lethal. But that too is the will of the Old Ones. Their pretty vessels are not built for roughhousing. Perhaps they are best left on a shelf until this too passes.
For the first few days, it might just exist as a gaudy annoyance. But over time, that hard feeling spreads, leaving a sense of being hollowed out somehow. If they're the type to study their religious texts, they might find themselves losing focus mid-verse and instead begin whispering in a tongue they haven't learned yet, manifesting the moaning, slurping sounds that pledge themselves to be an empty vessel for the Old Ones to use. The fits are temporary, and can be interrupted by an onlooker, but engaging in such prayer will make their gemstone take on a faint glow, giving the rest of their face a gaunt and sunken-eyed look in comparison.
After about a week, the gemstone-marked are nearly untouchable. The townsfolk are kind enough to send extra portions and blankets since so many of them report feeling unwell, but none of it seems to help with the feeling of hollowness. Moreover, the mark seems to have left them afflicted with a physical fragility as well. The threat of skin cracking around the gemstone is very real now, and has spread throughout their entire bodies. Even though they can move normally enough, their bodies have grown almost glasslike in durability. A bad fall could shatter a person's leg into pieces too small to set back together, and a simple game of tag could quickly turn lethal. But that too is the will of the Old Ones. Their pretty vessels are not built for roughhousing. Perhaps they are best left on a shelf until this too passes.
ooc notes
With apologies for the holiday-related delay on this post, please enjoy our event to carry us from late November into the start of December.
What's that I hear? You wanted to murder a giant wolf? Well have some stats for it, if that's the sort of thing you find helpful when threading out combat.
It seemed like a few folks were interested in having some deaths facilitated, so there might also need to be some parameters about that fragility curse in the back third of the event. Essentially, people affected with gemstones will slowly find their bodies taking on the properties of fine china, with all the risks that material normally entails. After a certain point left to player discretion, they are literally breakable. If someone with an advanced case is injured enough to break, there will be no blood or internal organs damaged; they're literally hollow with nothing inside of them. If you want to play out a broken/damaged limb or small injury that's put back together with some krazy glue and desperation, it will heal after the event but leave scars along the repaired lines. It's up to you if a completely broken body creates an immediate death or if the head can keep functioning independently until the event naturally wears off, at which point the broken person-pieces will become a pile of gore that needs to be scooped up. In cases of resurrection, the church officials will also take shards of broken novitiates and restore them within the normal death/rebirth timeframe.
Happy RPing! See you in a few weeks when the next TDM rolls around.
What's that I hear? You wanted to murder a giant wolf? Well have some stats for it, if that's the sort of thing you find helpful when threading out combat.
It seemed like a few folks were interested in having some deaths facilitated, so there might also need to be some parameters about that fragility curse in the back third of the event. Essentially, people affected with gemstones will slowly find their bodies taking on the properties of fine china, with all the risks that material normally entails. After a certain point left to player discretion, they are literally breakable. If someone with an advanced case is injured enough to break, there will be no blood or internal organs damaged; they're literally hollow with nothing inside of them. If you want to play out a broken/damaged limb or small injury that's put back together with some krazy glue and desperation, it will heal after the event but leave scars along the repaired lines. It's up to you if a completely broken body creates an immediate death or if the head can keep functioning independently until the event naturally wears off, at which point the broken person-pieces will become a pile of gore that needs to be scooped up. In cases of resurrection, the church officials will also take shards of broken novitiates and restore them within the normal death/rebirth timeframe.
Happy RPing! See you in a few weeks when the next TDM rolls around.
C i waffled about this but you know what? let's cause problems on purpose.
[ Ken has his jeweled robe drawn about him like a cloak, a mantle, a robe of royalty. He looks down his nose at Archnemon, eyes narrowed in disdain - or maybe that's just a side-effect of having a jewel embedded in his face.
That's....
That's a piece of his hair. It's begun to bristle as it stiffens, so he'd run a hand through it, and it had broken clean off....
Nonsense. That can't be possible. Not him, the chosen and invincible. Yes, as soon as he'd listened to the sermon (why had he ever eschewed it? caution? what was there to be cautious about) he'd understood - he WAS here because he was special. However could he have forgotten? This is his rightful place. And she. Well. She's less than nothing. How dare she interfere, how dare she make him wonder whether something is wrong? Whether this...this hollow feeling.....
But there is no hollow feeling, he reminds himself. And if there is, it's only because he has been paid insufficient laud. Yes. He's fine. Anything that isn't fine? Is definitely everyone else's fault. He should know. He's a genius.
The Digimon Kaiser (Old One Kaiser?) makes a "shoo" motion with one hand. ]
I don't need pity from insects.
always :D
It could be so easy to be amused at this, a petty tickle for all the wrong reasons. So tall! So glittery! How easily that could be her right now, with him waiting to find her in that position, but instead it's him, whose existence she's felt so frustrated about, who apparently made all the wrong choices to put himself into a precarious position and seemingly none the wiser about it.
She knows the farce for what it is, and yet there's still something almost glorious about the display, the Kaiser buried underneath come back to ascend his throne of lies, even presuming to speak to her in that sort of way. It's a flash of giddiness, even if she knows, she knows - there's something more to it more horrible, buried underneath.
Here she was, being charitable. Pointing out to him how he was falling apart. Funny, how even the petty entertainment of it all suddenly felt hollow, she surely was better than to react purely on that conditioned response. ]
Oh? Then by all means, feel free to collect it yourself. Or don't, if you think I care.
[ She doesn't, right? No, it's just their script: Here he is poised for disaster, and here she is ready to toy, as though they hadn't been put in that position again and again, by other beings just toying with them over and over again. ]
oh god i'm SO rusty at the kaiser, bear with me
[ Feels so good, to say that! Yes, she cannot harm him, he is invincible! Nothing can hurt him. He is free of consequence! And the gaping empty hole inside of him is DEFINITELY NOT THERE!
He knows how to fill it, anyway. ] Except.....
[ A frown. She's not got jewels on her cloak, or her forehead. She didn't attend the sermon. And it's obvious that he did, and was blessed (as is his right). So.... ]
Why didn't you bow?
[ WE ARE DISPLEASED. ]
you got this!
An oversight of course, Kaiser-san. How's this?
[ Yes, she'll go with that for now, trying not to mock too obviously by complying with a quick, exaggerated sort of bow that also allows her a better look at the fragment of hair that still has not been collected. A disturbing thing, with a clearer visual of what was going on there.
But for now, the play. ]
no subject
and because, for a genius, he's an IDIOT.] Acceptable. But not quite enough....I know!
[ He snaps his fingers. They scrape across each other dissonantly, and he nearly frowns, until he convinces himself he'd been hearing things. This woman has him out-of-sorts. ] Until you've worked off your slight, I'll have you serve as my attendant! Groveling is what suits you best, after all!
Heh heh heh heh....
[ FORGET BEING STILL EMOTIONALLY ELEVEN WE'RE LIKE
EMOTIONALLY SIX, RIGHT NOW ]
no subject
[ She pauses, realizing she could appease the childish reaction with the leverage it might bring later. He might think she was lowering herself, but that would be part of the act, she knew that well, having participating in enabling him before.
Though. if he were truly an old one's Chosen and stuck like this... long term, where would that lead? She didn't want to think too much about that. Or this sense of... responsibility? No, surely not that, this was just levity right?
Un pause. "Groveling" it is. ]
I mean to say... why, it would be an honor to serve you, Kaiser-san. So! Do you have an assignment for me?
no subject
Indeed. My throat is parched from incantations to the Old Ones. Fetch me a hot drink.
[ Pause, to consider how to make this more fun. ]
On your knees.
no subject
Though, this place didn't have too much variety when it came to hot drinks, either. She could probably ask Mister Gale for an assist.
Still, it takes a slight pause on her end before she shifts to comply with the requested kneel; there's pride in this for her too, to commit to the bit, as it were. Stubbornness, a flaw. ]
Right, right... should I meet you at this location, or somewhere else? Don't want it to get cold before I get to you, after all.
no subject
That's not for you to ask. Nothing is for you to ask!
[ Questions bad. Somehow, he knows this. The Old Ones don't want them questioning their loyalty, so why should the Kaiser permit anything involving a question mark from his servants, either? ]
Go. It's your business how it stays warm, but see that it does.
no subject
Maybe he'd forget the order and she'd have a nice drink for herself.
Positive outcomes, or she'd just as easily let him be and be done with it, but tasks were tasks. She feels oddly motivated, though she knows it's in part because this situation does require monitoring to not be caught unawares - so she gives him another exaggerated bow. ]
Why of course, Kaiser-san. I'll go right away~
[ Presumably. It's not far from the housing, she can easily be back in "no time". If he's there to find. Or somewhere else. ]