TDM#2: Welcome to Phlan

[balancemod]

I'd bring an umbrella and a good pair of waders if I were you. NAVIGATION WELCOME TO PHLAN Click on the map for a full view BACKGROUND. The port city of Phlan, located just north of the Moonsea region, is not an idyllic landscape, filled with images of swashbuckling sailors and brimming commerce. It's a place that's been razed and rebuilt so many times that even the people of this rough and tumble town seem to embody a particular nonchalance to the chaos that exists within it. Entire streets of the city remain either unfinished or abandoned. Farms on the outskirts of town lend prayer to the Goddess of harvest and bounty, and yet, year after year they struggle to make ends meet. The main road leading into town, called the Iron Route, splits at the path just outside the city's gates. To your left, a quiet and somber collection of headstones litter the grounds of the Valhingen Graveyeard. They remind all who venture into this city from the main road of one simple thing: those who are born and raised here rarely make it out. The Director has sent her Reclaimers here, and as the glass bubbles are shot from the Moon Base, they land with thuds against the lining of the Quivering Forest. There are rumors that there's a powerful item hidden deep, somewhere within the confines of towns dotting the landscape of the Moonsea region. Your purpose is simple. Ingratiate yourselves as travelers, offer aid where it's needed, and keep an ear out on the ground for any whispers that might give lead to the location of a Grand Relic. 1. THE WELCOMERS You've spent a few hours in Phlan already, and have probably seen the entirety of its less than stellar nightlife; it doesn't take incredibly long to walk from one end to the other. There's only one tavern in the entirety of the place, and asking any locals where the best food or ale around is will either get you a cold shoulder or a heartily responded "The Laughing Goblin, of course!" The Laughing Goblin is run by a staff of two; a boisterous human woman who everybody calls Bonnie (although no one actually knows if that's her name or a callback to the sailors who frequent the town during stints in the Moonsea), and a rather rotund man named Mar (who tends the kitchen but has a serious soft spot for cats or juicy gossip). You can almost hear the raucous shouts of vulgarities from just outside the doors of the bar. Even tonight's musical guests, a trio of halfling bards who call themselves the Dandy Warhalls, don't seem to be outpacing the chatter and heated conversations going on within. Opening the doors and making your way into the room gives you more of a sense of what Phlan is really about than any other moment you've spent wandering the streets and being a really unfortunate tourist who decided on the worst vacation spot this side of the Sword Mountains. This place is alive. And in some ways, it's a good welcome to the world of Faerun, as you'll be spending quite a lot of time within these sorts of establishments, attempting to make your way through the inner workings of a possibly unfamiliar world. A. WHAT THE BAR KNOWS. ○ Bonnie is running herself to death trying to keep up with the orders. She can't seem to pour ale quick enough to keep the patron's glasses filled to the brim. She knows that this is a dangerous crowd, but she's tough as nails. A skirmish begins breaking out between two humans at the far end of the bar, disagreeing on the roles of the local law enforcement and how helpful they've been to their beloved town. Bonnie flares up almost immediately. "ENOUGH OF THAT OVER THERE. ONE MORE PUNCH AND I'M CUTTING YOU OFF FOR A WEEK, NIFF." Whoever Niff is, he snaps to immediately and sheepishly scratches the back of his head. You can almost swear you hear a defeated "Yes, ma'am," before Bonnie's attention is drawn elsewhere. She could use a hand, if you're particularly good behind a bar, and won't object to the assistance, even if she's leery at first. She just doesn't trust a whole lot of people. Get to know her a little bit, and she'll even complain about how the lighthouse's lens going out last week has made everyone in town anxious as trade seems to have come to a halt. ○ Reizem, Mof, and Jimbob, the trio performing in the back of the room on instruments and trying to invent the concept of rock and roll, are not exactly being welcomed with the type of applause that they'd like. They'll take a break midway through the set list, and are more than happy to talk to some refined guests of higher culture. Jimbob, who's currently sporting a number of upper cartilage piercings, is happy to talk about how this place is the literal worst. Not just any "worst." The literal worst. He's also a little bit drunk. ○ Mar, the only cook and also the only waiter in the tavern, will be happy to stop at your table and fill you in on "The Happs" in town, much to Bonnie's absolute dismay. A loud voice, even among the patrons that are currently three sheets to the wind, he'll disperse a few gems with the promise that if you know anything, you'll return the favor: ○ The local police, named the Black Fist, have been up in arms over the last few days about a shipment that was supposed to arrive at HQ. No one would bat an eyelash at that, since trade seems to have completely stopped once the lighthouse has gone out, but Mar's friends with a few low ranking guards who play bridge with him on the weekends. Yeah, he plays bridge. They got "real quiet" when he mentioned the missing shipment, covering it up with something about their training supplies getting cut short. Seems fishy, even for a place that reeks of fish pretty constantly. ○ The lighthouse over at Sokol Keep has gone out. "First time since I've been alive, that's happened," actually. He'll explain that one of the few rich families of Phlan (old money, he clears his throat with a sound of detestation in his voice) controls the lighthouse. The Black Fist have been sent over there to investigate but no one knows what the hell is happening. ○ Be careful of the Welcomers, a group of bandits who run around trying to steal anything they can get their hands on. "You'll notice you came across one of 'em on a'count of them missin' a gods forsaken ear." B. EVERY D&D ADVENTURE BEGINS WITH "YOU MEET AT A TAVERN, AND..." And it's a good time to meet your fellow Reclaimers, as well. Some of you might have been paired up during the Test of Initiation into the Bureau of Balance, or maybe you dropped into an apartment room to meet a flatmate you never knew you had (or maybe wanted), but there hasn't been a whole stint of time available to you to really get to know each other. Take a seat, grab some ale, complain about the music. The meal of the day, as it has been every day for the last 2 decades, is cabbage soup. It's kind of delicious. You're going to need to figure out lodging for the night as well. The Laughing Goblin has some rooms, but it's definitely not enough to fit all of the Reclaimers in the upstairs apartments. Lucky for you, your handy-dandy Bureau Issued Adventuring Supplies (BIAS, for short) has a sleeping sack and a tent. Maybe it's time to rough it for the night. C. LIKE TWO SHIPS PASSING IN THE NIGHT On your way out though, should you decide to cut it short and head elsewhere, you should probably stick to the main roads within town. A little ways away from the docks district, you can swear you hear a woman crying. Following the source of the sound leads you into a back alley, and just as you approach, you and your companion find yourself cut off on both ends of the street as the woman stands up, sardonic smile twisting around her lips. "Welcome to Phlan." And wouldn't you know it? She's missing an ear. Let's roll some initiative. 2. AROUND TOWN Your first night in Phlan either went amazingly smooth, filled with nothing but a pleasant experience of pure country bumpkin culture at its finest, or knocking out some thugs in a dark alleyway who were attracted to you by the value of your silver armlet. Either way, don't be discouraged, because it's daytime in Phlan, and time to set out to see what this place is like in the light of day. A. THE MARKET There are various stalls open for trade and business. Several of them seem to be closed up; without fresh fish and meat traded in from the nearby cities, access to certain goods is nearly impossible for any of the residents of Phlan. It's cabbage soup all the way down, it seems. Either way, there's a bit of a crowd coming and going from the center square. It's a great place to meet any number of people, Reclaimers or not. B. WHERE'S MY WRIT? Attempt to enter any of the stores that sell weaponry or armor and the first thing you're going to be asked here is if you've obtained the proper license from the Black Fist in order to purchase weaponry. See, there's a bit of a pay-to-play scheme going on here in Phlan. The merchants are offered protection by the local (mafioso) police in exchange for a highly lucrative bribe system, requiring anyone who wants to purchase anything sharp or potentially stabby to head over to the Black Fist HQ to pick up a "writ." And wouldn't you know it? The old man sitting at the receptionist desk of the Black Fist mansion has a mountain high pile of paperwork to go through. But he supposes he might look the other way if you happen to grease his palms a little bit. Anyone who can distract the earnest, hard-working, underpaid administrator to check that stack of paperwork will notice that there's nothing written on any of the sheets below the top one, which is basically just a diary entry from the man to make it look like official paperwork. While accepting your bribe, he bemoans how hard it is to make it by in Phlan these days. C. THE TELLER OF MISFORTUNES Along one of the side streets, you'll notice that there's a dimly lit shop with a stuffed kraken-looking beast dangling from the window. The smell of burnt sage wafts under the main entrance, and you can make out a row of various gemstones and crystals lined up perfectly within the shop itself. For a small fee of 10 silver pieces, you can go in there and meet Filistrom Stromdoodle, a gnomish woman who'll be happy to read your fortune. No matter how bright your prospects may be, she'll alert you that there's some impending doom in your life to come. She's seen a dark figure in your past, an ex-lover, an obsessed stalker. It's never good news with Filistrom. Ever the lover of theatrics and flare, she'll put on quite the show, and offer to cleanse your spirit of dark influences. Although the ritual does work (you're bathed in sage for a solid 5 minutes straight), she charges a hefty 5 gold pieces for it. Refuse, however, and she will absolutely cast a hidden Bestow Curse on you. And your luck from there only gets worse. 3. MISSING CARGO You've heard that the Black Fist have been fretting about lately over a shipment of goods that they were expecting recently. Remembering the Director's advice here- keeping an ear to the ground, not starting trouble, etc- you may get the hunch that getting to the bottom of the missing cargo might prove to get you some information about what exactly was in that crate that the higher-ups in the police were getting so on edge about. There's a few options in front of you to begin your search. ○ Look around the docks. There's a container yard that holds crates waiting to be shipped to and from the city of Phlan. With the lighthouse out, they can't be loaded onto ships and sent across the Moonsea. The waters are just too dangerous to go without a guiding light. You see a number of crates with city seal of Neverwinter on them. Little weird, since anyone that's spent time getting to know Faerun at the library back on the Moon Base knows that Neverwinter is on the other side of the continent. Searching inside any one of the crates (don't get caught!) you'll mostly find grain and agricultural wares meant for trade along the sea route. But one crate in particular has a subtle acrimonious smell to it. Open it up inside and you'll see it's filled to the brim with statues of Tyr. Tyr is a very well respected and beloved God within Faerun, denoting justice and law. Smash open any of these idols and you'll notice enchanted ink dust. Weird. The shipping label points to an appointed spot outside of town. ○ The location that the label directs you towards is a farm just northeast of town. It's seen better days, for sure- but the one thing that stands out is the remains of a recently burnt down barn. The family who owns the farm tells you that there was an accident a few days ago when the kids were playing Hide and Go Boo by candlelight. The children don't say anything about this. ○ Taking a look at the barn itself, you notice there's a similar smell in the air that's reminiscent of the enchanted ink you found within the crate back at the container yard. ○ The family simply doesn't have anything else to say on the matter when questioned. They're still reeling from the loss of their 2 prized family cows, who have won them the Phlan County Fair Blue Ribbon 3 years running. "Best cream on the Moonsea... such a sad loss for us. We'll miss Ben and Jerry so much." The woman of the house will point out the 3 blue ribbons hanging on the wall. It's the only decoration they have in this place. 4. THE BROKEN LIGHTOUSE Figuring out that the lighthouse being out is a huge source of financial ruin for the town, you eventually make your way over the Sokol Manor. The administrative head of the house sits at her desk, one Leela Sokol, pure white hair tidied neatly with a combover part and bright red lipstick on. She taps her fingers on the desk, looking bored and disinterested in your offer for help, but the second you mention that you're not affiliated at all with the local law enforcement, the very edges of her lips perk upward. "Oh, I do love some adventurers just gallivanting about upon our private property." Thinking it over, she rolls her eyes upward to the ceiling, but she guesses this will just have to do. Those of you from Earth may notice two things: she's wearing a bright red pair of heels and happens to look incredibly similar to Meryl Streep. Anyone who mentions that to her will be met with a confused stare and a request for clarification, mentioning that the Streep family over in Melvaunt, a neighboring town on the Moonsea, has no ties to House Sokol. Whoosh. She relates to you that the lighthouse has been tended to by her beloved nephew, Philip, for the last decade and although she wears the fiercest poker face you've ever seen in your life, you get the sense that she has no idea what's going on over at the Keep. Communication has come to a halt both to and from Thorn Island, just off the coast of the city, ever since the only ferryman in town passed away 2 weeks ago. The lighthouse and the Keep are the only things of note on the island that she's aware of. Black Fist Captain Grim and a team of 6 Black Fist guards are typically stationed there, but attempts at talking to the Black Fist over at their HQ have been fruitless. The excuse seems to be the same; most of the force is out either taking care of a recent surge of bandit activity by the town's local gang, the Welcomers, or are otherwise concerned with finding some missing cargo that never showed up a little while back. She'll allow you to head over there and find out what's going on, provided you don't go and talk to anyone in the Black Fist. House Sokol has a reputation to keep up, after all, and tarnishing that by showing distrust in the militia of the city doesn't bode well for her or her family. "Oh, and should you get there in one piece, please do remember not to steal anything. I'll know." Time to get a group of fellow Reclaimers together to find out just what went down over on Thorn Island. A. ARRIVAL AT SOKOL KEEP The Keep is on Thorn Island, surrounded by water in all directions. It's a rough swim, as the Moonsea isn't exactly a calm body of water. Maybe you can scope out a rowboat to help you get there. Either way, coming ashore at the massive mansion will be rather quiet and uneventful. There are no butlers to greet you. No Black Fist standing watch at the gate. Maybe Philip was just that reclusive, or maybe there's another reason that this place feels abandoned. There are 5 main structures on Thorn Island- the Sokol Keep itself, the lighthouse, an eastern tower, a western tower, and the barracks, used to house the guards that come and go from the mainland during their stay here. The stone mansion itself has two floors, and up until recently, looks like it was incredibly well maintained. Funny, since you didn't see any attendants on the island to greet you. Not a speck of dust, anywhere. The banquet hall looks filled as if an evening meal was being served just a few hours ago. Unfortunately, whoever was served this delicious looking feast didn't have time to finish it. It looks like it's been sitting out for days, and the smell of rotting meat is more than just a little pervasive to your senses. B. LOOKING AROUND After searching long enough on this abandoned island, you start to notice a few things that don't quite add up. First of all, Philip's room has a number of books on the occult hidden neatly among the academic literature peppered about in his personal library. Although nothing seems to indicate a struggle has occurred anywhere, investigating the ground around the barracks on the outskirts of the manor indicates freshly upturned dirt that looks like it was recently tilled over to cover something up. Perhaps someone was dragged, but it's really hard to figure out who, or what, could've done that. Your examination of the lighthouse itself shows a crystal at the top of the structure encased in glass that's been warded off and reinforced through magical means. There's no indication that someone had come here to snuff out the light or steal the lens from which the lighthouse operates. It just simply... won't glow. Ransacking the eastern tower reveals a place that doesn't look like it's been touched in ages, aside from a chair that's been moved, uncovering a trail of clean floor in the midst of dust literally everywhere. The dust seems to be everywhere, and spending a particularly long amount of time in here makes your lungs hurt and your eyes water. You do, however, find a small Holy Symbol, a rosary of beads with a small coin on it, the image of a Faerunian god etched into the metal. You're starting to get the sense that this island has been dealing with some below-board stuff lately. Cults, religious symbols. And did you just hear that chair begin to creak? Why do those empty bookshelves up against the wall look like they're vibrating? Time to get the hell out of dodge on this one. Investigating the western tower, however, reveals a bare floor that's been broken into via a pickax. Move some of the earth away and you'll find a hatch. Wouldn't you know it? It's unlocked. C. THE CATACOMBS If you didn't get the chills from the seemingly haunted eastern tower, dropping down through the hatch reveals a damp, dark passageway after a drop of roughly 10 feet below. The catacombs smell damp, have a particularly unsettling feeling about them, and touching the walls reveals an ungodly amount of mud that never seems to quite settle. Prestidigitation that off, if you will. Going deeper, you realize that you're descending below sea level. Eventually, you hit a snag- in the form of a whirlpool that seems to block your way through to the other side. It moves concentrically, and trying to cross it without a plan will end up getting you sucked right into it. At the bottom? You're tossed around like a gnome being fired out of a canon, and hitting the bottom of that pool of water reveals sharpened bones. Most likely human in nature. Better move fast, you can almost feel something reaching out to touch you. Provided you don't drown to a group of skeletons sitting at the basin of the whirlpool, you'll come to a wide open room with an altar towards the back of the cave structure, emanating a sickly violet light. On a raised platform, the body of Leela's beloved nephew, Philip, lies sacrificed. There's a trail of blood that leads from the dais to the pool of water surrounding this statue. Looking closer, you notice that the statue itself depicts something with the body of a woman and 6 slithery heads of a snake, crested with jade jewels for eyes. A hollow laughter fills out from the room as a figure moves forward from the statue. Where the hell did that come from? "Stay for dinner, we've got the early bird special prepared, just for you." Of course, it's Captain Grim. Did you ever think that a dude named Grim wouldn't be evil? He's sacrificed the poor boy and is now currently possessed by some unrepentant six-headed snake beast. His tongue slides out of his mouth, licking his bottom lip. Yep, that's more snake than human too. Make sure you kill this guy. D. THE AFTERMATH Killing, or otherwise subduing Captain Grim (what's your alignment, again?) is enough to make the lighthouse mysteriously come back to life. Whatever desecration was going on in the catacombs below seems to be lifted. Too bad you can't be treated like heroes upon your return to Phlan proper. Leela has made absolutely sure to spread a rumor at the Laughing Goblin about how efficient the Black Fist were at resolving the issue on Thorn Island. Oh well, you weren't doing this for fame and accolades, right? 5. CALL TO ARMS (DEXTROUS): THE SCROLL THIEF The Bureau of Balance has done pretty much everything they could have for this small port town on the Moonsea. The lighthouse has been restored so commerce once again begins to breathe life into the docks district. Sailors have changed their tune from anxious boredom and nights at the Laughing Goblin to the simple blessing that returning to work provides. That is to say, they've (mostly) sobered up and got back on the straight and narrow for the time being. But it doesn't end here, not quite yet. There's the sound of a parade of footsteps emanating out from the direction of the Black Fist headquarters. The entire guard has begun to give chase, and the city is quickly mobilized to a state of apprehension that you haven't seen at all during your stay here. Wherever you are, you're stopped nearly dead in your tracks as a man, not much older than 20, knocks you or one of your party members over on a beeline straight to the ships. You see, tucked neatly under his arm, an ornate looking piece of parchment paper that's been rolled up tightly. The man smiles at you, apologizing, just as a battalion of Black Fist agents begin to approach off from the distance. The youngster who has just collided with you turns his head to look upon this scene and groans. "Typical lugheads. Just what I was expecting outta this shit hole." And he takes off for the docks. He needs to get out of Phlan, and quick. What do you do? OOC: A LETTER FROM YOUR MOD TEAM Hello everyone and welcome to the second!!! TDM for Balance, an experimental DWRP game that looks to combine light elements of time-honored and classic strategy games like FFT, Octopath Traveler, Tactics Ogre, and the wonderful worldbuilding experience of D&D. Our setting and concept is heavily based on the McElroy Brothers' popular D&D podcast, The Adventure Zone. If you're here, there's a good chance that you have interest in some, or all, of the components listed above. First off, this TDM is a little bit different than the TDM's that will come in the future app cycles. This one is structured like a mission mod log and assumes your character has already come to the Bureau, passed the Test of Initiation, and have been deployed on your first foray out into the world of Faerun. The reason we've done this is two-fold: to avoid any possible duplication with the introduction log (as you'll have the opportunity to thread out your arrivals), and we wanted to give everyone a sense of what the real core of the game will be like. So, for the purposes of this specific TDM, and only this one, you cannot take events that occur here as canon upon apping into Balance. Future ones will be more aligned with the Moon Base cycle and can potentially account for CR to transfer into the game. What we're aiming to do with Balance is a little different from your typical DWRP game. In a typical setting, the mods set up some NPCs that have limited contact with you, the player, under a very structured set of conditions. For example, The Director is one of those NPC types, as are her two counterparts (Davenport and Garfield). However, in Balance, we'd like to take a moment to instill something early on as we run through the first TDM of the game. We've listed a few NPC's up there to give you a flavor of their personality and what their look and feel constitutes. Those NPCs are completely pilotable by any of you, at any time. What we're looking to do is give you all a structure for adventure and seeing where you all can take it. It's part of our core value and how we'd like to see things move along. Be amazing- not just in the sense of being amazing to each other and to your characters, but also with your character choices in-game. The world is completely malleable and up to you to meld, mend, repair, or bust. In a nutshell, what we're saying is... go wild. It's okay not to ask permission for something cool you'd like to do. We've given you some outlines of events, but the story that you create as you thread these out is entirely yours. And we, as a mod team, can't wait to see what you bring to the table. blurb code by photosynthesis

Comments

QUESTIONS

[balancemod]

CALL TO ARMS: DEXTROUS

[balancemod]

[reticence]

Faolan (a Rogue!) would attempt to (discretely) track the thief through the town to figure out who he is, where he's going, and to what purpose he's stolen this scroll from the Black Fist. I have no idea if I'm doing this right, but is any of this possible!

morgana, the house in fata morgana / chemist

[witchship]

1 - b

...And so, you mean to say... you are without vacancy. Is that it?

[ her tone is as sharp as broken glass, but with a pristine crisp tone, easy to understand, easy to listen to. the girl with the hood over her head, long, red braids spilling over her shoulders in mismatched lengths, could probably spit venom with just one sentence. to be fair, she's alone in a tavern she barely knows, with people she barely knows, in a city she barely knows. a door to lock and a roof over morgana's head seems like the only way to get some solace in this situation - some safety. ]

Is there another tavern?

[ the answer is, naturally, no. she knows so. she asks anyway, in the hopes that her wander about had not told her all the secrets of this town. her fists tighten. it's easy to see, for her sleeves are torn and tattered, older than your great grandfather, somehow. ]

Oh, dear. I see. I should appeal to someone to allow me into their room, then, yes? To feel sorry for me? Pity me? And who would not, in the goodness of their heart, want to help a person feel comfort for the night...? Surely a kindly soul would allow me something, perhaps even a closet in the corner of the room to rest in. Would they not think that better for me?

[ she smiles, sweetly. CLEARLY. SOMEONE IS HOLDING A GRUDGE. ]

I have a tent.

[ everyone here is a stranger and morgana has anxiety! ]

2 - c

[ morgana once believed herself to be a catholic saint and the daughter of god, so honestly, i'm not sure what you were expecting with her and this prompt. either way, at least this time, her face is showing. with the hood down, it's easy to see she has bright, golden eyes not unlike the glow wheat might have under the rays of the sun. but oh, that smile - how sickeningly sweet! it offsets the stench of sage well, as if you're standing between heaven and hell. but which side is which? ]

Oh? Have you interest in things like this, my dear? Tell me, what sort of things would you like to hear from such a visit? I'm curious. I'd like to wish you well going forward, after all.

4 - a

[ morgana supposes there is simply no moving forward in this town until it's problems are solved. she thinks of it like a horseshoe that must be refit. if she wishes to go back to somewhere she feels safe, she has to continue forward and close this chapter. in truth, it doesn't take her much to want to help or see things do well; despite her own personality, morgana can't help but seek out sunlight. ]

I hardly imagine that one set arms will row a boat that far. You're off to the lighthouse, yes? It seems so awfully small at this distance. To think of little you going out there and rowing your heart out... Well, I'd like to see such a thing.

[ that's an assumption but only because morgana wants to go over and isn't going to admit as much so simply. ]

...How is the water?

[ she's never traveled by boat, before. also by cart, cage, by foot. the prospect somehow makes her feel... small.

anyway, that's your admission that she wants to help, but you should leave her here because she sucks ]

[ ooc note: morgana's canonical power she is retaining is the ability to wish for something to happen. when it passes, it will happen in a way that allows for great misfortune. it's up to you what the great misfortune is, but as an example: she once wished for a man to only be able to keep money and business at his side, and only that, so his wife ended up leaving him as his wealth grew. as such, he only ever knew money and business, and never loved again. ]

...!!!!! 1 - b!!

[rancori]

[Oh. Oh. The cloak's a dead giveaway, really, but Maria's still not quite sure what to do with herself when she sees Morgana standing there.

Oh. She looks... She looks different, doesn't she? She's...

Oh, for fuck's sake, she can't think too hard about this. She just needs a moment.]

Come on, you're a resourceful girl, aren't you? Just the tent?

4a

[blodsvorr]

["Little you." Qrow, in his six and a half feet, looks at this rather small girl and her very convoluted way of, what? Asking to help? Asking him to row her there himself? Doesn't matter. She looks 16, maybe 17.

(She also looks Goth and is therefore clearly His People.)]

The water's fine. Hop in the boat and we'll head out of here.

2c

[snippings]

[Here comes another hooded teenager! However, Ahsoka's hood is still up, her montrals showing through the fabric of the cloak.]

I was just curious. I've heard you can't put much faith in visions anyways and I'm guessing that's doubly true for people trying to get you to cough up all your credits.

2-c

[grakraka]

[Interesting. He almost wants to call her charismatic, though maybe that isn't quite what she is? Either way, he looks at her with a smile.]

I would merely call it intellectual curiosity. I wondered if this type of magic was real or not. In my world, I would guess that it wouldn't be real. [Like. Unless there is a fortune-telling skill somewhere in the sea of souls.] But perhaps it is here? Though, even if it were, I wouldn't want to rely too heavily on it. That feels like wandering into a self-fulfilling trap.

maria | the house in fata morgana | cleric

[rancori]

1. C

[Now, a woman crying? That's not really a sound Maria can bring herself to ignore, even if she doesn't know what exactly she's going to be facing at the source of it. She's been in this situation before, after all.

She barely spares her companion a glance as she follows the sound, already looking for where she's got her knife stashed away in her dress.]

You coming or what?

[It's just a real damn shame when she finds out what's causing the crying.

It's great. Great. Totally how she wanted to spend her day today!]

Oh, you've gotta be fucking kidding me.


4. A.

[Maria's already regretting getting involved in this from the very moment she enters the banquet hall. Maybe she really should have let some other poor suckers deal with this instead.

She wrinkles her nose at the smell, but steps closer to the table nonetheless, leaning forward as far as she can without actually touching anything.]

...Hey. You wanna take a closer look at this for me?

[Look, she'll even smile, okay?]


wildcard

[Anything else you wanna do? Go wild! I'm not your boss!!]

4A

[blodsvorr]

I think I can look at it pretty decently from here.

[What he sees is that this is terrible and gross and needs to never be touched again.]

goku black | dragonball | barbarian

[reskin]

1C; welcomers

[As of late, black's found he's more than happy to work out his frustrations on anyone he can, and no matter how long he's here simply being brought to this world is always going to be a source of frustration.

It's exactly why being cornered like this doesn't scare him, nor does it even concern him. The smile on his face seems to say he's thrilled, actually.]

Mortals...truly are a foolish lot. [You may find yourself stuck with him, but you most likely didn't arrive alongside him; he sticks to himself as a general rule. Even so, he finally stops acting like you aren't even there as he cracks his knuckles.] You'd best prepare yourself. Don't expect me to save you.

4C; the catacombs

[The dusty environment above had begun to take its toll on Black, so as he descends into the passageway that offered a respite from it all, he's all too happy to leave. He even takes a moment to compose himself, clearing his throat and wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

Although as he puts his hand against the wall, he immediately pulls it away, repulsed.]

...I'm not sure which is worse.

[Priorities, man.]

4D; aftermath

.................

[Here you are stood in the laughing goblin alongside someone who's done nothing but condescend and complain about practically everything.

Including you.

To your face.

Repeatedly.

And after all that, the patrons of the tavern are all loudly discussing how efficiently the issue with the lighthouse was solved...by the Black Fist. With no mention of either you nor him.

It's hard to say how he even feels about it, really. He's just stood there with a frown (he's always frowning, he was frowning from the moment you both decided to team up at the lighthouse) entirely silent.

Eventually, he just sighs irritably.]

To think I tolerated you through this entire ordeal for nothing.

[Yeah, you were the one being tolerated all along, not him.]

1c

[ganbattetsu]

Y-yessir!

[ Now, he'd rather do this uhhh, more diplomatically? But Tetora. can sort of read the mood and that ain't gonna happen. Especially when you're cornered by thieves. He's a Monk so as it were, at least he can defend himself barehanded. And without his wallet... Damn. The one with red scarf has got it. ]

I'll do my best to take care of myself— Woah! On your left!

[ He manages to dodge the swing of a dirk, but the slip of his footing has him stumble to the side. By he just gets up while that bandit goes for Black. ]

Lancelot | BBC Merlin | PALADIN CLEARLY

[knightscode]

1.
A.
"Missing an ear?"

Lancelot looks between Mar and his teammate at that, aghast. Normally one would think that a group of bandits might have different defining features. Ink of some-sort, perhaps. A symbol they wear. Yet to be missing an ear, all of them?

He squints at Mar again, thinking as he runs fingers along the side of his tankard, then simply nods his thanks.

"We will be careful," he assures him, then glances across the table again with a sigh. Well. "A... joining ceremony?" he hazards, once Mar has walked away. "Perhaps it is a test of courage, to see if they can withstand the pain."

Perhaps only the bandits who can stomach it make it into the group?

"I wonder," he continues softly, "if this group might be connected to the trouble at the lighthouse. They seem the most high profile, and perhaps it is a distraction? With the local enforcers focusing on that, it may be easier for them to smuggle things in and out."

C.
Far be it for Lancelot to pass by a woman crying.

As soon as he hears it he is turning toward the sound, cautious -- but not of the crying. No, Lancelot is cautious because this woman may have been targeted by the bandits. They may in fact, still be nearby! So concerned is he for her safety, and for the safety of the person he is walking with, that at least he is alert for the potential of danger.

"Do not be frightened--" is as far as he gets, and then as the woman gets to her feet he suddenly understands.

Well, if it's a trap then at least he has no qualms about fighting back. Light begins to glow from his form in the dimly light alleyway, and Lancelot draws his sword and spread his feet for balance.

4.
A.

The trip over the water to the island is uneventful, and as Lancelot makes sure the rowboat is secured the complete lack of anyone there to greet them makes him uneasy. Surely, even with the lighthouse not working for whatever reason, they would have been visible crossing for some time?

Yet the quiet continues. Nobody at the gate, nobody at the keep, nobody... visible at all.

It makes the hairs on the back of Lancelot's neck prickle.

"There is something very wrong here," he says, because part of being a good hero is stating the obvious. "This place has been abandoned some days now. A week, perhaps."

He turns and lofts an eyebrow. You know. The amount of time the lighthouse has been out?

Listen, his detective skills are medieval. He's doing his best.

C.

With nobody in the main building, the eastern tower mostly full of strange unrecognisable yet suspicious items and the lighthouse not something they seem to be able to fix on their own the last stop is the western tower.

Opening the hatch starts up a wave of unpleasant damp that gives Lancelot pause, and descending into the catacombs seems like it may be unwise but. Well, they've started this thing now. May as well finish it. The soft glow of his Aura of Courage, at least, makes sure that the darkness isn't too oppressive as they descend. For these tunnels do go very deep indeed, deep enough that even Lancelot feels uneasy about the weight of earth that must be around them.

The whirlpool, however, is a surprise he was not expecting.

Lancelot stops to... admire it, in truth. A whirlpool, simply turning circles on its own in the tunnel?

"This is powerful sorcerery," he says after a moment, tracking the motion of the thing. Is there some way around it? How could they even get by something so strong? "I am have not seen such strong magic in some time. This must be intended to stop us crossing through."

Which means, of course, that he intends to get past it. The determination is already there in his voice.


[ ooc; I can switch to action if it's your preference, I just default to prose! ]

4C

[blodsvorr]

[Well, at least they've got a candle going for them. Qrow can't help but roll his eyes a little behind Lancelot's back—Lancelot talks like he's out of another century, and the pure Paladin energy is a little overwhelming. But one thing he does agree on is that they need to get across and deal with this.]

Alright, we've got our BIAS supplies. Let's try that before we go for a hard swim.

[The BIAS supplies are the following:

○ A crowbar
○ A hammer
○ 10 pitons
○ 10 torches
○ a tinderbox
○ 9+1 standard days' worth of freeze dried rations
○ a waterskin
○ 50 feet of hempen rope
○ a compass
○ a bedroll

Qrow, for his part, is taking out the rope.]

I say we toss my scythe to the other side to get a strong hook in, then we pull ourselves across.

[Qrow does not appear to have a scythe on him. He does have a weird truncated sword at his back, though.]

Sora | Kingdom Hearts | Paladin

[crownnecklace]

1a.)

[Naturally at the sound of conflict he finds himself trailing that way to get a closer look at what's happening. That was maybe not quite the best decision of his life but Sora's not really known for being the most logical person as it is. Instead, he watches the exchange between Bonnie and Niff, and as he's watching the happenings of the bar he decides that this might be a good place to jump in, lend a hand, and learn more about Phlan itself.

It takes some fast-talking and a few overly friendly smiles that are possibly suspicious to the untrained eye before Bonnie seems to let up, not willing to let voluntary help walk away.

It's only when he's settled behind the bar itself that he realizes there's probably more to this than he anticipated, but that's okay. He'll work on the fly. It wouldn't be the first time. Patrons of the Laughing Goblin start to line up and place drink orders as Sora leans back to look at the bottles and glasses looming above his head, raising an eyebrow at some of the names.]

You want a what now? [He shakes his head, and it's only when he spots someone idling nearby (you, it's definitely you) that he gives a slightly sheepish grin.]

Hey. I'm starting to think this is a two-person job. Have you ever done this before? [Help a guy out?]

4b.

[With his boat docked, Sora immediately sets off to explore the island on his own. He checks around the towers, only mildly paying attention to the books and landscaping around him. He flips through a few pages before putting the books back, and it's only when he's at the lighthouse that he stands still long enough to be approached. He appears to be staring at the structure and trying to figure out what it is and why it's dead to the world.

He folds his arms over his chest, giving the crystal a skeptical look.]

So…if we get this lit up again, trade'll start back up, right? [He doesn't seem to care who he's talking to, so hello there.] Wonder how it burned out in the first place.

wildcard

[I'm open to all other prompts even if I couldn't write a starter, so come at me!]

1A; roxas.exe has stopped working

[seasaltkeys]

[Having at least a mission under his belt, Roxas has a bit more confidence in the reconnaissance department. At least, he has a little more of an idea of how to talk to people for information, rather than just collecting information from the sidelines. And he's learned that the local tavern is a good place to start.

But where Roxas wanted a chance to try out these new investigative skills as a good Reclaimer should, he's instead met with a very familiar face that he wasn't sure he was ever going to see again. And to be frank, he's really not sure how he feels about this, except for the fact that his left hand instinctively wraps around the silver bracer on his right arm. Protectively almost.

He doesn't answer Sora's question. He doesn't want anything. He kind of wants to run and hide.

Mostly he stares.]

grell sutcliffe | black butler | dancer

[erythristic]

2b.

[a writ, a stupid piece of paper. she knows bureaucracy enough to know that some might be serious, but with the competency of these fools, she doesn't think it's real. and wouldn't you know it, the perfect set up to cheat and swindle people out of their coins to keep them underfoot.

here's the thing about old men, though, they love to complain, and they love attention, particularly when someone bats their lashes and leans in their head to indicate that they are the most fascinating man alive.]

Really? I had no idea the state of things - sir, you're being so kind to tell a passing traveler these facts.

[he chuckles, and she laughs as well, but, behind her back, one hand is gesturing for another Reclaimer to move move move - to steal a writ, or make one, or lighten his pockets for all his trouble at fleecing people. really, he should know better to cheat the less honest.]

4b.

I think our dear Philip had a few hobbies his aunt wouldn't exactly smile upon.

[her words pierce the gloom, as she withdraws a book bound in blue from the others on the shelf. they had all seemed so boring, until this one caught her eye - something relating to dark rituals. opening it up, she flips through some pages.]

"Using the Powers of Dark to Win Your True Love." Oh, and you only need the skull of a man killed in battle and the innards of a goat, along with some nasty sounding herbs. Delightful.

4d.

The Black Fist?

[the words are practically a hiss in the Laughing Goblin, and Grell's mouth is drawn into a tighter and tighter line. they hadn't done anything worthy of note besides be utterly useless. sure, Leela Sokol wanted to keep up her face, but some cooperation couldn't tarnish their reputation that poorly.

with a huff offended enough to indicate disrespect on a positively royal level, she turns to walk straight outside, before she'll give herself a headache or throw a fit. if not followed out, she'll be too busy being unhappy to watch where she's going, and fully collide with the next person to go through the door.]

Hey-!

wildcard.

[got a different idea you want more? bring it on.]

2b

[blodsvorr]

[What's that? Cheating cheaters? Fuck yes, Qrow is game. At Grell's cue he quickly leans over and snatches a few writs off the desk. He shoves them into his pack without missing a beat. Crime! With a raised set of eyebrows, he cues Grell to let her know they can move out now.]

Minato Arisato | Persona 3 | Bard

[napstar]

1B
[Minato got tired of the riff raff in the crowded tavern and has decided to get a head start on setting up his bureau issued tent. He's followed most of the instructions and improvised when they were hard to follow. Compared to the image on the paper it's... Unrecognizable. The roof looks like a maypole, the entrance is sideways, and one wall is falling inwards. Maybe those extra pieces were necessary after all... As he crawls inside trying to figure out where it went wrong the tent suddenly collapses. You can see him flop over inside the mess, lying down in defeat.]

2C
[A fortune seems interesting, especially given the past nine months of his life learning about the major arcana of the tarot. He still only has a basic a understanding of this kind of mysticism and figures a fortune would be a good way to learn a little more, so he pays the 10 silver that Filistrom asks for and sits down.

His fortune is full of new friendships, new discoveries, new talents. A new beginning, away from the shackles of his previous life. But what's this? Something dark lingers in his shadow! It threatens to consume him... The touch of death is upon him! Nearly sobbing with fear, she goes on and on about the disaster that will befall him. It will start small at first, some inconveniences here and there, but grow until it takes his very life!

Minato blinks at her.

When she offers to save his soul for a small fee of five gold, he frowns at the price tag.]

No thanks.

[Filistrom looks horrified. You can try to convince him to pay the fee and save himself before he leaves. Otherwise he's walking out the door with her crying about saving him -- just in time for a potted plant to nail him on the head, shattering into pieces.]

4C
[The whirlpool stands between him and whatever videogamey undead things lie in wait just beyond. The current seems too strong to attempt swimming across and he can't see what lies in wait at the bottom.

He's a Bard, so he's supposed to be playing music to solve his problems, right? He doesn't see how that's applicable here though. Maybe his persona can help him across? He looks around to see if it's safe to use his evoker -- he doesn't want to freak out anyone -- when he spots you.]

Ah....

[He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods his head towards the tumultuous whirlpool.]

Any ideas?

Wildcard

[ I'm down for any of the other prompts as well. Just start it or message me on Discord at Kelories#6484 ]

1B

[blodsvorr]

[He sees the tent collapse. With a hand on his hip, he looks down on the kid.]

Need a hand there?

Shinjiro Aragaki | Persona 3 | Fighter

[petsthedog]

1B.

[Roughing it for a night isn't really a big deal, especially when you've pretty much spent the better part of the last two years living on the streets. In fact, he ends up not even bothering with the tent and just kind of curls up somewhere near a tree or something in the sleeping bag. Hopefully you don't trip over him....but, y'know, feel free to kick him if he's in your way or whatever. Or to check that he hasn't frozen to death.

Alternatively, maybe he's the one who's stumbled across your attempts at a tent, and being someone who generally cares about whether other people will freeze to death more than him, stopped to help. Gruffly:]

You're doing it wrong.

1C.

[It's not his business. It's really, really not. Or that's what he tries to convince himself for about ninety seconds worth of utter futility, before he groans, shoves his hands in his pockets and hunches further inward in discontent with the decision he's realized he's already made.

Of course, his grumbling becomes more than just the obligatory tough-guy act when he spots that missing ear.]

...Tch. Fine, let's get this over with.

[He accepts the inevitability of this becoming a brawl. He... also accepts the fact that there's someone else here, which makes this even more of a pain. He eyes them, barking out a demand as he gets into a defensive posture.]

Get out of here, now.

4C

[On the one hand, he shouldn't entirely be surprised things turned out like this. On the other, the sorts of things SEES fought in the Dark Hour usually didn't disguise themselves as regular humans during the daytime.

Either way: being cornered by a snake monster is not his idea of a good time, especially when he gets the feeling just punching this guy isn't gonna do much. Which uh, just leaves one option, really -- and he does not love the idea of doing it with non-Persona Users around. He unholsters his Evoker, and takes a moment to look you in the eye before he raises it to his temple.]

Don't freak out.

1C

[gotyourbach]

N-No way!!

[Kaede doesn't look like a fighter. Sure, she has some light leather armor protecting her core and a rapier at her side, but the rest of her outfit is decidedly more for fashion than for combat, with a flowing shirt and brown leggings tucked into knee-high boots.

She also looks a little frightened by the idea of combat, but she's trying to hide it as she stands up straighter, starting to hum under her breath. Five notes in, and she points to one of the thugs who'd cut them off from behind.

Sleep. He collapses to the ground in a heap.]

lalli hotakainen | stand still. stay silent | ranger

[ilves]

1b.

[Getting to know other people? Um... no. Lalli is pointedly sitting in the darkest corner of this tavern, hands pressed against his ears as he scowls over at that absolutely terrible band. He'd prefer to be anywhere but here, especially while that so-called "music" continues picking up volume, but his half-finished bowl of soup is too tasty to abandon. How unfortunate.

So maybe someone notices this grump looking absolutely miserable and feels like commiserating? Or maybe someone sits down at his table a bit later, when the band finally decides to take a break. Some generous soul—who is either very drunk or very grateful for this surprise intermission—has decided to buy a round of ale for everyone in this bar, and Lalli... has absolutely no idea what to do with his. Drink it? No way. All it takes is one cautious sniff for him to realize that he most certainly does not want this, so what is he supposed to do...

...Why, try to pour it into someone else's tankard when they aren't looking, of course. Congratulations on your good fortune!!]

2a.

[Here for a writ of your very own, huh? Refuse to pay good silver for something you shouldn't even need in the first place? As you exit the Black Fist HQ, feel free to spot Lalli loitering beneath a window, arms crossed as he frowns down at... a cat. A very mean-looking cat, if we're being honest, but as it rubs a paw across its scarred face, it looks up at Lalli in what is clearly a very smug fashion.

Lalli hisses at it.

But oh, wait—someone else is here! Lalli glances over at this newcomer, not the least bit embarrassed about being caught hissing at a cat, before shifting his attention back down to his feline friend.]

...I heard you arguing. In there. [Unfolding his arms, he gestures up at the window—clearly displaying that silver armlet of his. Same team, you see? Same team. Anyway, with an annoyed little huff—] He says that he can help us, but he wants meat.

[The cat meows, almost like it knows exactly what's going on here, and Lalli turns back to the poor, innocent soul who hasn't signed up for any of this.]

A rat will work.

[So, uh, chop chop?]

3.

[Lalli isn't exactly a team player, but as long as you don't working with someone who rarely says more than three words in a row... well! He's not opposed to letting someone tag along behind him as he works his way over to the docks and begins poking around. Does that city seal on that pile of crates mean anything to him? No, because he's a doofus who hasn't read much of anything, but he does crouch down beside one crate and sniff it like he's some sort of dog. Wait for it, wait for it—]

It smells weird.

[And with that hot take thrown right out there, he scratches—yes, scratches—the top of the crate while giving his partner an expectant look. Yes? Hello? Forget the guards roaming around and open this posthaste.]

wildcard.

[i'm up for anything!! throw something my way or hit me up over at tuchanka if you have something specific in mind!]

Faolan | The Bridei Chronicles | Rogue

[reticence]

1) A
Faolan has always been in the habit of frequenting the local tavern whenever he arrives in a new area. He's always found that it's the most useful place to gather information about the area as fast as possible, sometimes without even needing to put forth the effort of doing so. Get enough of the locals drunk and any number of interesting facts might come spilling forth.

He's finding that Phan is no different. The cook has been particularly useful in this regard, and over a few pints of ale Faolan has found out quite a number of interesting "Happs", as it turns out. Faolan lets the man get back to his job and allows himself an actual swallow of the ale he's been pretending to nurse for the last few hours, before grimacing at the sound of the 'music' playing from the back of the room. He breathes an audible sigh of relief as the front man grows so drunk they can no longer continue their set, sitting back in his chair as he does.

"Thank the gods," he murmurs quietly. Though not quietly enough.

3
Faolan's heard of this missing cargo from Mar. And the man had been right, it is suspicious. As a great many things in this town are shaping up to be, for that matter. What could have been in this shipment that is so important that the Fist are so worried it has been misplaced, Faolan would like to know.

Which is what has him off to investigate the docks. It's where all shipments are meant to come in and out of the city, after all. Because the lighthouse has gone out, the docks are quiet of the usual hustle and bustle of a busy shipyard. Is it the case that the shipment had never arrived, or is it that it had merely been misplaced?

Warily, Faolan begins to poke about the cartons. Glancing about cautiously to be certain no one is about before he picks one at random and starts to pry the lid off with the tip of his dagger.

He's just finished prying the lid off the crate when he hears the sound of footsteps behind him, and carefully he sets the lid back on the box and turns to sit on the top and watch the newcomer himself.

"A man draws attention upon himself, skulking about in the dark like that," he points out, once they draw near enough to hear his voice.

Says the man who had been doing exactly that.

4) B
The more Faolan investigates this place, the less he likes the look of it. As if the long-abandoned place settings weren't bad enough, the freshly upturned dirt near the barracks sets his hair standing on edge.

Its a feeling that does nothing to dissipate as he makes his way into the eastern tower, pausing a moment to wonder at the state of the room itself before he steps forward to investigate in turn. Bending, he traces a finger in the dust upon the floor, edging between the clean path where the chair's been moved and the rest of the room itself.

"Something odd has been going on here," Faolan points out, before specifying, "For far more time than that lighthouse has been broken."

((ooc: i default to prose but please feel free to write in action brackets and i will happily match your style!! c:))

sasuke uchiha | naruto | wizard

[moralmyopia]

1-A (hm. bad.)

[The entrance isn't exactly polite: the door of the bar is thrown open with enough force to slam it against the opposing wall and jostle the hinges. Out of the night and into the following surprised silence, Sasuke steps inside, body concealed by a heavy cloak, hood down, and face stony. His eyes do only a preliminary sweep of everyone and everything.

His right hand pulls forward and lifts, partially hauling up a limp body by the forearm. The look of the person screams Welcomer, and aside from being unconscious, the tips of the fingers to the elbow is encased in a solid layer of ice.

When he finally tosses the body down in front of his feet, the arm shatters as soon as it hits the floor, and shards of ice spill out toward everyone else amidst an array of gasps. From the exploded palm, a ring and several coins roll away.]

Stolen from someone here. Come claim it.

[He's waiting.]

2-A

[Perched at the end of one of the stalls in the market is a frazzled-looking, black crow. At first, it almost seems like a taxidermied crow with how still it sits, body ruffled and head settled in the tuft of breast feathers; however, when you come toward it in curiosity, the head turns to the side and a single beady, dark eye appraises you with unspoken scrutiny.

And then, satisfied, it stretches itself up and caws in greeting, sleeking itself out from head to tail feather. The black feet pick a short trail down the stall toward you, stopping it in front. Again, it looks you over and caws. Friendly!

Except, once you're close and charmed, anything on your person is fair game. The crow is quick and sudden: jewelry, coin, anything like a shiny or glittering bauble within few, and the crow snatches it with its beak and takes off. WOW.

Three stalls down, it lands on Sasuke's shoulder and offers the item as a prize. Slowly, Sasuke turns up a hand to receive it, but his brows are drawn together, and he gives the crow a look before turning his gaze down to see who is probably going to be storming over for their stolen possession.]

4-C

[As soon as Grim finishes talking, Sasuke yells:] Move. [He goes in one direction, and hopefully you go in the other, as a wad of fire is pulled apart between both of his hands and then molded back together into something bigger like he's merely playing with dough.

He points. The fire leaps along an arc and explodes across the front of the statue, scorching nothing but stone, and the drops of it fizzle out when they hit the pool. Grim has moved out of the way with surprising agility, unbothered and now taking the opportunity to attack.]

Kill him. He can't be saved.

Mikan Tsumiki | Super Danganronpa 2 | Cleric

[discerp]

[1-B]

N-no, this is fine! I don't want to be a bother, it's fine!

[She's accepted the tent and sleep sack, but, uh. What the hell does she do with it?? She's not even sure where to really set it up except she's wandered to wherever some others seem to be setting up and just.

Dumps the stuff on the ground. And stares at it. She hopes that maybe things will start making sense and she crouches down, slowly starting to put some things together and pull at some ropes. She peeks around at other tents being set up and tries to copy them, to no avail.

But after a while she might sort of start to make some headway... Until the pleasant (?) evening is ruined with a scream of surprise.

SOMEHOW against all odds, Mikan has ended up tangled up in her tent, in the weirdest of positions. She's practically head over heels, one leg pulled back by the rope tied around her ankle over her head, her skirts flipped up to cover her face leaving her struggling with both her clothes and the rope.]

H-h-help...! [how did this even happen??]

[3-1]

[She's really not cut out for these kinds of things, but she's been given A Mission so she's determined to see it through! She's pretty sure she's useless here in all ways, but there's some cargo around the docks that need looking into so here she is.

She peeks around carefully and opens a couple of the boxes to peer in, finding nothing really useful until she opens the last one full of. Statues. Huh. She gives one a little shake, perching precariously on the edge of the crate. It seems heavy, but not in the way she'd usually expect a statue to be. Her brow furrows a little, wondering if she's found a clue, but as she turns to get the attention of whoever she's with...

She falls. Into the crate. There's a horrendous crashing noise as the statues fall into each other and break, leaving a cloud of ink dust wafting up from the opening of the crate as Mikan lays there, a little cut up and bruised and dizzy but otherwise fine.]

...I-I think I found... Something. I'm okay...

[4-A]

Urk.

[The smell is terrible, but not actually the worst thing Mikan's smelled in her life. Still, it's pretty bad, and has her covering her nose and swallowing hard.]

It smells t-terrible... [She feels uneasy for completely different reasons too though, frowning at the banquet hall and everything around. She's reluctant to begin examining anything]

I-I don't... Um. I don't think we're going to find Phillip in very good condition. [OR any condition at all, but she's trying to be sorta optimistic here]

1B!

[gotyourbach]

[Kaede doesn't really do camping. Her Performance skill means that any tavern that has a piano (which most of them seem to have, thank the Faerunian gods that this place is cultured) will usually offer her a room for the night, along with a hot meal. It's nice having her talent actually be useful for once! And even if it's full, she has several more-adept friends who would set up her tent for her.

All that means is when she sees Mikan wrapped up in that suggestive pose, she can only stop and stare for a few seconds before her need to help kicks in.]

H-Hey... are you okay??

[She doesn't even know where to start untangling her, though... Maybe trying to gently lower her foot to help with the skirt situation??]

merlin | fate/grand order | wizard

[enflowers]

1-B; tent of avalon: eternally secluded utopia

[ There's nothing special about the actual construction of the tent. It's competently made, and stands without the sides collapsing on themselves. No, what's more interesting is the small but perfect circle of flowers surrounding it, the air filled with a slight floral scent. Just stepping near it is enough for someone to feel slightly rejuvenated in both soul and body, a small slice of paradise as the sun shines right upon it.

If anyone peers into the tent, Merlin will simply give them a cheerful wave, lying on his stomach, while the fingers on his occupied hand play across the pages of a book he picked up earlier in the markets. ]

Plan A didn't quite shake out, so this is my Plan B.

[ The sly grin on his face practically goads the entrant to ask just what exactly his Plan A was. Hint: he tried using his (not-so-)dreamlike charisma, and he's half-incubus. ]

2-C; murder Merlin, fou!

[ His clairvoyance might be gone, but frankly, you don't need to have magical telescope eyes to see that the lady's a wee bit suspect in her magical dealings (it's not that simple to change fate, it's something you have to sweat and bleed for), or at least not telling the full truth. Still, he'd gone to check it out, if only for his amusement, and though he did his good deed of the day in warning someone else about her, the time it took for him to show his back toward her to do so was enough for her to lob that curse on him for scaring away potential customers. Had he full access to his veritable trove of magic, the curse would've been over in practically a snap of his fingers, but as he is now, he'll have to live with it until it wears off.

Vivian wasn't the first time he landed himself in hot water because of the troubles he caused with women, and it wasn't the last, it seems. Despite all his efforts in fending them off, the birds in the nearby vicinity (crows, sparrows, etc.) descend upon him and his mane of white hair, tugging and pecking at it with wild abandon thanks to some untimely spillage of potion that apparently made him so irresistible to them. ]

Gah! It's not a nest! Cut it out!

[ Please help him...or don't. That's also a perfectly valid option. ]

wildcard option;

[ Anything goes! Let me know/tag in if you want something else, and I'll see what I can whip up. ]

(ooc: I'll be playing from the F/GO NA timeline, though I don't mind JP spoilers or Servants yet to be released in NA.)

2C

[aviphile]

[Da Vinci was going about her business, keeping her ear to the ground for any hints as to the Grand Relic's location. She would have kept on going if she hadn't heard a familiar voice cry out in the distance. It's enough to give her pause and to look over her shoulder.

... wait. Is that...?]

bakugo katsuki | boku no hero academia | bard

[bakucchan]

2-b.

[By now, Bakugo's gotten the rundown, he's gotten a little more used to the idea of living here and the fact that his home had been absolutely ruined. He heard that part of the reason why people were chosen out of everyone else in their world was so that they could help restore the places that have been destroyed, and that was the one thing keeping Bakugo from going absolutely berserk. If he was chosen, they that means they recognize his strength and he can't consciously decide to ignore someone when they tell him he's the only one that can save his world. He's training to become a hero, after all. A very... ornery... hero....... but a hero nonetheless!

So that's why, with a war drum strapped to his waist, Bakugo is at the Black Fist mansion to get himself a "writ" whatever the fuck that is. He needs a weapon, since his Quirk isn't as powerful as it used to be at home. He figured it must have been weakened after traveling to another world or something... he didn't care enough to actually think deep about the reason, he just knew he was pissed that he could no longer make explosion five times as big as himself anymore. But he still could make something, so when the man at the reception desk suggests that Bakugo bribe him for one of those weapon licenses, an irritated grin spreads across the teen's face and he lifts up his right hand, tiny, booming sparks jumping from his palm.]

Hahhh? You're the one who should be greasing me up, ya' old fart!

[Just as Bakugo threatens him, someone else walks in to haggle for their license as well. It's.. probably no good if he blows the guy giving them away up so it might be a good idea to pull the problem child aside for a moment. He does have his war drum and the Performance skill, after all. If he just played it, he probably could get both of you a license in one go.]

4-a.

[He was silent on the journey to Thorn Island, having joined whatever group was already on the way to leave. Bakugo's not the type to like to wait around for something to happen, he takes initiative and as soon as he got the rundown about the lighthouse he was on his way to figure that shit out. He kind of hated how this entire place seemed set up like an RPG of some kind, with quests and classes and the like but at the very least he knows how this shit goes to an extent. So he complies, keeping his mouth shut as his group make it to the island and the first thing he does is head into the abandoned mansion.]

Who fucking died in here? It smells like shit.

[And as soon as he walks into the banquet hall, his nose is affronted by the smell of rotting meat. He covers his nose with his hand and walks over to the large table, looking to see if there really was a dead body somewhere but nope... just a bunch of empty chairs.]

Looks like whoever was here had to leave in a hurry. The place looks brand new besides the garbage all over the table.

[He says that to whoever might be listening, as he kicks a chair over and looks underneath the table.]

But what the hell are we even supposed to be looking for here? We're here to fix a lighthouse or whatever... not clean up after some lazy asshole's dinner party!

[He's not good at the whole Investigating thing but at least there's an attempt being made.]

[gotyourbach]

It does smell really bad...

[Kaede's hand is over her nose, rendering her voice a little nasally as she pokes around the dining hall. She really wishes Shuichi or Akechi were here... they're the detectives, after all! But sometimes, bards have to stick together, and that's why she's stuck with this rather vulgar boy.]

...Oh! Do you have Prestidigitation? I don't know that one yet, but that's supposed to make things smell better, right?

[She ducks down, checking for Clues under the table and not finding much of anything under there.]

Izzy d'Oro | OC / 13th Age | Chemist

[dralchemist]

[1-A]

[Being a chef is about one step removed from being a bartender, really, so when Bonnie asks for an extra hand behind the counter, Izzy is right there to help. Doesn't really matter that a) dragonborn aren't that common in Phlan and b) Izzy only barely matches the natural conception of a dragonborn to begin with; she's doing her best to keep the patrons of the Laughing Goblin tipsy and entertained. Because drunk townspeople are the best source of rumors and information. "Oh yeah, you guys are doing fine", to the Dandy Warhalls. Bards; bards never change. "I hear that", to Bonnie and Mar, at different times, on the breaking of the lighthouse. "Wish I could help, but I'm a chef, not an engineer," she'll say.

She's also more than happy to serve sub-par ale to her fellow Reclaimers. Because why not, right? Their whole wing of the Bureau is here for the assignment and it'll help to establish a rapport.]

[2-B]

Y'know, I've been in Phlan for all of a few days, and I've gotta say. Absolutely, literally nothing I've heard about these "Black Fists" have been anything but positive. Like, come on. Even the name is super ominous and weird. What kind of authority force calls themselves the Black Fist and expects not to draw some mmph hmphm rhgmrhgm?

[Aaaaand that's Izzy being grabbed by the mouth backwards out from the frame of an armorer's shop by one of said Black Fist enforcers. She, uh. Might need a little bit of assistance here.]

[3-X]

[It's probably Izzy's expertise in chemistry and alchemy that gets her and whoever's following behind on the scent of the adulterated idols to Tyr. Literally. She's spent a good chunk of time sniffing the air, muttering about how familiar yet out of place the weird smell is.]

So, we have enchanted ink coming from Neverwinter, which is on the wrong fucking side of the continent with no good water routes for it to come by here, being held up in storage by a mysterious lighthouse malfunction, hiding in suspiciously pristine religious iconography.

I smell a smuggling ring! And also a lot of dust. [All sense of stealth has gone far out the window for her theatrics... which is probably attracting some guards. Shit.]

[WILDCARD]
[Open to any other listed scenario, or anything else you can come up with!]

((OOC: Izzy is an alchemist/chef dragonborn from 13th Age, a d20 system that parallels D&D, so she's familiar with a lot of the trappings. High stat: INT. Low stat: WIS. Dump stat: CON. Do with that what you will.))

Bendy | Bendy and The Ink Machine | Warlock

[figmentpigment]

1B

[For all intents and purposes, people seem content to identify the little inkblot as some kind of strange tiefling kid. He isn't much for talking, but he seems real pleased to listen to anyone who's willing to chat.

He keeps staring at his bowl of cabbage soup with big, wide eyes (though that may just be what his eyes look like) before sifting through it with a fork and pulling out a limp green leaf of cabbage. He wags it excitedly in the face of anyone nearby. Have you seen this leaf? It's incredible.]

2C
[In wandering about the marketplace, Bendy's attention is caught by the unassuming little side street. The mystical look of the smoky shop sets him on edge, and his hesitant investigation draws the attention of the proprietor. Filistrom emerges, smelling heavily of sage and wrapped in extremely mystical looking robes and symbols.]

You. [Her voice is airy. She limply raises a hand, pointing a finger.] A great darkness clouds your future. Misfortune haunts you, stranger.

[It doesn't take much to send Bendy into an anxious spiral, and his reaction to this poor news is obvious. Hiding behind the legs of whoever may be accompanying him, he shakes his head emphatically, eyes squeezed tight shut in refusal of Filistrom's appraisal.]

Ahh, it cannot be avoided with wishing it away. Come in, come in. Madame Stromdoodle will find what curse lies in your path... for a fee.

[Bendy perks up, and begins patting himself down. Digging into a pocket--which is weird, because for all intents and purposes he doesn't exactly seem to be wearing clothes--the demon fishes out a handful of coins and starts counting, while Filistrom bares her teeth in a smile.]

3
[On the average, it might take someone quite a while to search through all this cargo for the most suspicious box. Luckily (?) for you, your investigation partner seems to pick up the scent of what's wrong from the get go.

The idols are a bit out of place, sure, but Bendy's reaction to them is powerful. The little guy seems to be trembling as he picks up one of the statues, but that's not quite right. His very skin is squirming, rippling unnaturally while the demon himself has gone very, very still.]

3

[unrecovered]

[Wash doesn't have a clue where to start with the cargo, and he's about to pick a random direction when the weird demon child he was paired with does it for him, zeroing in on one particular crate and-]

[Oh.]

[Wash has seen enough horror movies to know that's not a good sign, and he very carefully holds out a hand.]

Give it here.

ryo asuka | devilman (ova/manga)

[reillumination]

(4b. how much sorrow can i take? blackbird on my shoulder.)

[ the library surrounds ryo asuka as though it were a friend.

perhaps "friend" is not a term for it, as much as "a familiar memory." he remembers hours he'd spent in the professor's study, pulling ancient tomes from their neater placements by fragile spines. he remembers the endless and pointless nights that he'd spent consuming all that he could on the darkness that crowded up against humanity's edges, all furred and fanged and clawed. he remembers dark hair and dark eyes, the scent of blood that lingered each time their owner would peer over the curve of ryo's shoulder and ask him where his father ever acquired such texts from in the first place.

and ryo would shrug or laugh or turn to him, cigarette in his mouth or mouth curving in absence of a cigarette, the fondness scrabbling its way hot and sharp and painful up against the lattice of his ribs — ]

Don't touch that, [ he says, sudden. or perhaps it is not sudden, for any who have been watching him. he's a whip of a teen(?), tall for his age and pale — it's hard to tell much beyond that, considering what he's hidden behind the thick canvas of his trench coat. but, what anyone could say is that he's acquired an impressive stack of books about him in the time he's spent moving, the dark of his sunglasses doing nothing to disguise the way his expression sits flat and untouchable, firm.

perhaps he wants it that way. ] Unless you can read them, there's no point in bothering with them anyway.

[ maybe he's right. he seems to understand some of the runes and concepts just fine. or maybe he isn't. defy him or not, it's up to them. ]

(4a (redux). and what difference does it make when this love is over?)

[ there is only so much one can take.

while the rest are occupied, someone breaks from the group like a boat from its tethering. they step into the waning hours outside the rounded walls of the lighthouse, find their way to an outcropping. perhaps another has felt it too, the constant thrum of all that's living. perhaps, like them, seeking refuge is all they can do to acclimate. but perhaps, unlike them, they also do not take a different shape — a wisp of thing reconstituting and reconstructing, but it is impossible to know who it is in this light.

all that is known is that their silhouette grows lean and long, unfurls like a flower in the bloom of improbable feathers — twelve (if one is counting), dotted and even along their body, but they do not remain standing there.

instead, the figure sits and curves their wings about them. they are not cold, but perhaps they look it. they glow, glimmer in the gloaming that subsumes the shoreline and strikes out the innumerable stars one by one by one. and yet, it does not seem to move them — the unfamiliarity, the incessant buzz that all has been lost. time doesn't seem to brush a hand against them, plunge its thin tendrils into thick feathers and radiant down.

no, it is only once the moon has risen past the lip of the horizon, that they lift their head. they watch it, their pale skin (and there is so much of it) and golden hair haloed by the cool cast of it. the wings that frame their head flex and tremble outward then inward, blinding them to all that surrounds and crowds from beyond. ]

The moon... [ perhaps a passerby will catch. it's a voice that seems to mold the air about it, carry within itself the echoes of itself. it's strung along, just like they are. just like he is.

he seems to know another is there, but does not look upon them. approaching only reveals to the curious someone far larger than perceived, the full of his height an impossibility for any burdened by human flesh.

what do you do? ]

( ooc: anyway you can say hi to me over at rasasvada if you'd like. satan here is keeping the ability to change his form, so i guess have fun with a teenage boy and a literal fallen angel? yeah. also the class path is definitely paladin at this stage of the series. )

4a

[protegge]

[Mista doesn't know how, but this is a skill he was born with, even if it took long years to reveal itself: catching movement wherever it occurs, in the corners of crowded rooms or across an empty, rocky beach. It's part of what makes him a good marksman. In theory, it's part of what makes him a good paladin, although he'd never think that, much less say it aloud. It's easy to take pride in a skill he's able to demonstrate, and it sure is easy to demonstrate you're good at shooting people.]

[It's easier even to catch this movement, someone breaking away from the pack in the ebbing hours of danger, taking their space and moving away — which isn't dangerous in and of itself, but it's unusual. The abnormal, in a situation like this, is its own kind of danger.]

[Nevermind the wings. Even Mista, who trusts his own eyes far past most people's belief in their own perceptions, wonders if he was seeing things for a moment when he catches up to the other. There's only too-tall-too-long-too-pale, no wings, but — he thinks of Venus, and wonders.]

. . . Hey.

[It's noncommittal, a filler word. Something to verbalize in the empty space between them. Something warm to put out there in the cold. An announcement that he's here now, so don't be surprised.]