EVENT ↠ THE DRIFTING ROADS

[faderifting]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: A Crossroads Adventure
WHEN: Most of Cloudreach 9:46
WHERE: The Crossroads
NOTES: OOC post!

A team recently discovered a cluster of eluvians, one of which leads into the attic of an occupied home in Minrathous. This could be an extremely useful route if it can be made safely accessible, but that will require careful planning. In the meantime, Riftwatch needs to urgently explore the other eluvians in the cluster to ensure that none of them make the Minrathous route too dangerous to keep open (for instance, if another leads into the center of Val Royeaux or the royal palace in Cumberland, or anywhere else that a party of enemy combatants could quickly cause terrible trouble).

To that end, teams are assigned to explore and (as much as is possible in the Crossroads) map where the others lead and what the paths between them are like so that the danger/usefulness of each can be assessed. Because there are dozens and this needs to be done as quickly as possible, anyone with any time may be ordered to take on an exploration shift. Assignments will be given to small teams or pairs, but never to just one person alone. Some people may be assigned multiple shifts. (These assignments will be made IC, but OOC you're free to choose your own teams.)

The aim of this event is to focus on the Crossroads themselves, so the eluvians investigated will almost all lead to other eluvians and to islands of disconnected pieces of the Crossroads. It may be necessary to travel between and through several successive eluvians to different portions of the Crossroads to ensure there's no access to a vulnerable location.

The portions of the Crossroads teams will be exploring now will come with a variety of frustrating geographical hazards, any number of which your characters may encounter during their travels:

• RECONCILIATION ROAD: One eluvian will be positioned in the distance on a narrow island of the Crossroads and reachable only by two paths that unfurl ahead of people as they walk and finally converge to reach the island. The paths will slowly angle toward one another if the people walking on each of them discuss a topic of disagreement, coming together to meet at the eluvian if the parties are reasonable and calm during the discussion and make some earnest effort to find common ground along the way. They won't have to wind up in perfect agreement to reach the end, but breaking into fighting or being stubborn or petty will result in the paths diverging instead of coming together. People who already agree about something won't be able to make it work—they'll have to find something to disagree about, even if it's just the best color of flower. A monument at the beginning will explain its purpose (using Veilfire writing that gives mental impressions, rather than requiring knowledge of ancient elven languages): the paths were designed to require people to calmly discuss their differences on their way to reach someone appointed to mediate disputes at the end, rather than allowing them to barge in shouting.
  
• IMPULSE AVENUE: An area will be populated by spirits who will act out a form of people's repressed feelings/impulses on their behalf. That might mean a nonverbal wisp or a more distinct verbal spirit. So a wisp who is acting on behalf of Person A might shoot little icicles at Person B because Person A is annoyed with them, or a more substantial spirit might hit on Person B because Person A thinks they're cute, et cetera. The spirits won't volunteer to explain why they're doing this, but the verbal ones could identify Person A as the source of the desire if pressed on the subject, especially if Person A secretly wants it known.
  
• INNER CHILD BOULEVARD: Teams may need to pass through a particularly twisty, shifting maze that's only passable with the guidance of spirits—specifically, spirits who, for some unknown reason connected to their original purpose when the Crossroads were a thoroughfare, present as ghostly forms of the people they're guiding as they were when they were children. They'll know that they're spirits and that their purpose is to guide people through the maze, not mistake themselves for "real" people, but they'll behave and speak in the manner of the child they're imitating while doing so. (Like all spirits, they rely on the information available to them from people, so if there's some significant difference between the way a person recalls themselves as a child vs. how they really were, the spirit will only be able to imitate what the person recalls.)
  
• SUSPICION CIRCLE: A pack of fear spirits (specific breed: suspicion) has control of a dark, tunnel-y portion of the Crossroads. They're able to rearrange the paths to lead people in circles rather than allowing them to escape, all the while trying to stoke fear and drive wedges between people by whispering to them about any fears they may harbor (or that just seem reasonable) about their companions' motives, loyalty, etc. Resisting the fear will prevent the spirits from feeding and eventually make them unable to keep up with rearranging the paths, allowing people to escape. Otherwise, if people do give into fearing one another and thus feed them, they'll have to be fought or outsmarted some other way.

They may also encounter other minor hazards and irritations, such as:

• SPIRITS OF VALOR: Bridges or paths may occasionally be occupied by these fierce spirits who will demand that any who wish to pass first best them in single combat. They can also sometimes be passed without a fight, if you manage to out-swagger them.
  
• WILD GOOSE SPIRITS: Spirits that will lead anyone who follows them in pointless circles for as long as possible. They may appear offering assistance, claiming they know the way to the party's destination and can lead them to it, or claiming to have been sent by another group that needs their help urgently. On rare occasions the aid they seek will be real, just far too late--they may lead people to scenes of spirits falling to their deaths as paths crumble, crying out for help but unable to be saved.
  
• MOOD WISPS: Characters may encounter clusters of small wisps that will follow them about and change color depending on the mood of the person they're hovering near. If that person's emotions are particularly extreme they may also hum a little, annoyingly, in a way that vaguely indicates the relevant feeling.
  
• TRUTH PATHS: Paths that will fall away if you tell a lie. It doesn't require active truth-telling to cross, so you can be silent the whole time if you like, but if you lie about something while wandering the path will vanish ahead of you and will not reappear until you correct the lie. They aren't clearly marked.
  
• PUZZLES EVERYWHERE: There are puzzles. They're everywhere, and they're frequently required to unlock an eluvian or make a pathway appear. Some of them might require people to play Ancient Elven Symbol Twister. Or Ancient Elven Symbol Hopscotch, if that's more your thing.

This project will be ongoing, in addition to characters' normal duties, until events TBA.

Comments

laura kint

[justashotaway]

[anywhere, verging onto any of the other options at our leisure: take 1]
one character/small group only, please

Laura comes into the Crossroads and feels her entire sense of balance lurch. She staggers, squinting at the mess of stone and dying scrub and empty air. It doesn't feel right, or look right--and that makes her feel wrong, too, like she isn't attached properly to her body.

"I dislike this place," she mutters, steadying herself against a rock and trying very hard to look like she doesn't need to be steadied.

[at a mirror's face]
one character/small group only, please

Laura stares at the first mirror she meets up close--besides the one she went through, at least--and, when she thinks no one else is paying attention, sniffs at it. The surface is the most interesting thing, though, not the smell of it: it shimmers, begging to be touched.

"If we are mapping the eluvians," she says, eyes still on the not-quite-glass, "why do we stop before going through?"

[reconciliation]

She stares at the Veilfire, its flickering one more eerie fact about an already eerie place, and frowns. What it says isn't clear to her, but somehow the meaning is.

One more thing to dislike about the place, but given than she can't read ancient elven scripts, Laura can't deny it's helpful this time. She glances over at her companion. "What do you wish to argue about?"

[mood wisps]

It keeps getting close to her, and she keeps trying to edge away from it: one of the wisps that Kostos refused to explain. Laura's read a little about them since, that they're essentially harmless if nothing else, but she still finds herself made uneasy by the spirits' presence. And the way this one, the deep red of an uncooked liver, greenish at the edges, keeps trying to float nearer, raises little bumps on her skin.

Is there a growling sound? Is something growling? It isn't the wisp. But something's definitely growling, and that something is probably a girl on the verge of bumping into you.

[anywhere, verging onto any of the other options at our leisure: take 2]

Once she's gotten a sense of the Crossroads, with their bleached-out scenery and steep drops, she can manage the place. Walking through the mirrors always leaves her disoriented for an unpleasant moment--I dislike this, she always thinks, her claws always ready in case she's ambushed in those first dizzying moments--but then she's fine.

Quiet, watchful, and ready to follow others, though she does speak when it seems necessary. Pick your poison:

"Stay away from the edge."

"Did you hear that?"

"Which way do we go this time?"

"What is that?"

"Wait."

"I do not trust it."

"Is something on that bridge?"

[ooc: Because some of the effects, especially Impulse Avenue, are really character-dependent, and Laura's reactions might be pretty CR-dependent as well, I'd prefer that we got into them through slightly more general means! That said, if you'd like to do something, and you're not sure how to start it, please contact me! I can write a more specific beginning to work with. PM me, PP prettydoes or contact me on Disco if we communicate there.]

face the mirror's face

[sulahnan]

Athessa looks up from the parchment she's noting their position on, just too late to see Laura sniff the eluvian. She gestures with her stick of graphite.

"Because we need to know where the entrance is, not just the exit."

mood wisps!

[exequy]

To say Kostos is in a good mood would be a gross exaggeration. But he is at least not in as bad a mood as he would be in this environment, with its nauseating shifts and the way it keeps trying to evade coming into focus, if it weren't also teeming with wisps.

So he glances at Laura without any comment, while he scratches down a note about a distant platform, and waits until she's nearly backed into him to clear his throat to make sure she realizes he's there before she actually makes contact and, for all he knows, stabs him in the gut with her fist.

"Leave her alone," he says—not to Laura. To the wisp. But its color only intensifies for a moment, like a flourish, as if to say this is what I'm for.

reconciliation!

[degenere]

"We might argue about the love of an argument."

Val, quite at easy, smiles over at her. He has some comprehension of elven script--a very little, as it is not a popular subject to study--but its knowledge has proved useful, and he has often said aloud to Freddie and Jehan how they might become secret experts in the tongue, or at least in the reading of it, and surprise and shock everyone. Having the instructions of this way translated for him has removed some of the challenge, which is disappointing.

Still. One does not complain.

"Do you enjoy argument, mademoiselle?"

1

[hemitheoi]

"Because there is magic all over this fucking place. We shouldn't be here."

He's here because Athessa was going. Not that he would admit it to himself, and especially not to anyone else. But here he is, overgrown and eyeing the surrounds like he expects his death to jump out at any moment.

marcus rowntree.

[luaithre]

[ ooc ; below are closed starters but please hit me up on plurk or elsewhere if you'd like to do something, and i'd be happy to hit one of yours, respond to a wildcard comment, or write something for us! i just struggle to do open-open type posts anymore. ]

reconciliation road. julius.

[luaithre]

Veilfire ripples silken over ancient grey stone as Marcus waves his hand, lighting up what he suspects to be far more ancient arcane symbols he doesn't understand. But then he does understand it, meaning telegraphed on some bone deep level from where his fingertips brush the sickly green glow, meaning thrumming through his bones, and entering his awareness.

They -- himself, and Enchanter Julius -- are standing at the borders of a cliff. Unusual in that the ground underfoot is cobbled stone, like a thoroughfare, before it simply terminates into nothingness, and there below awaits only dim grey void. As Marcus steps back from the pillar on which the Veilfire script glows, his eyes adjust to something new -- two unlikely sets of stone stairs that both seem to attach to a distant floating island on which stands a massive Eluvian, but also seem as though they go nowhere.

This place is a headache.

Marcus approaches the base of one of the zigzagging staircases. Dressed for their mission not in his nice frock coats (well, frock coat, singular) and neckties, but standard issue light armor, favoured by mages. Lightweight leathers, the occasional glint of mail, the drape of tough woven fabric, and enough give to permit the motions of spellcasting.

Less gracefully than that, Marcus tests this new structure of staircase with the blunt end of his staff. There's a solid clack of wood to stone.

athessa sulahnan

[sulahnan]

Opens

[sulahnan]

Puzzles

[ Athessa presses on a symbol, which lights up as the stone button shifts. Distantly, there’s a clunk, and Athessa cranes her neck to look around. ]

Did that do anything?

Mood Wisps

Athessa is already not great at hiding her feelings, so having a wisp bobbing around after her and broadcasting them doesn't do much to reveal anything. It just adds to it. With humming. So much annoying humming. At times the humming is so bad that Athessa clamps her hands over her ears, and when that fails to drown it out, she starts humming.

But they don't always hum. Sometimes they just seem to bob flirtatiously on the side closest to her companion, and her reaction is to shrug. Chances are, the other person knows she thinks they're hot, so. Whatever.

Wildcard

[[ I'm down for pretty much anything, either write me a wildcard or hmu on disco if you want me to write a starter! ]]

Byerly Rutyer

[bouchonne]

Opens

[bouchonne]

i. Inner Child Boulevard

"I know how to get through," the boy says. He's eight or maybe nine, dressed in clothes that are worn to holes and too short for his skinny arms and legs, startlingly dirty for a child with an accent that plainly patrician. He's got a tooth missing from his top jaw and two from his bottom, and his hair keeps falling in his eyes, and he bounces on the balls of his feet, a hyperactive energy practically radiating off him.

Byerly, standing not far away, looks exquisitely pained. It seems that this will be...humiliating.

"I'll show you, too," the young Byerly Rutyer says, and then amends with a sly look, "But first you've got to answer a riddle."

"No one," murmurs the older Byerly, "gives a solitary shit about your riddle."


ii. Spirits of Valor
"Well," By says, looking at the person standing next to him, "I'm absolutely dreadful at combat. I'll let you take this one, hm?"


iii. Reconciliation Road
"This'll be simple enough." Byerly smiles archly at his companion. "Apologize to me, and we'll be on our way."


iv. Wildcard

ellis.

[heorte]

[ this is my collection of closed starters. if you wanna do a thing hit me up for some plotting on plurk/dms/send a raven, whatever. i'm extremely down to write up a starter for you or to tag in elsewhere; alternately just hit this comment with your wildcard and i'll roll with it. ]

tony.

[heorte]

The only actual resemblance to the Deep Roads is the sense of endless, winding pathways without clear destination. If anything, stepping through the eluvian and trying to map this network should be easier, but it's disorienting, and they aren't alone.

Wisps have been trailing them for a fair amount of time now. Harmless, as far as Ellis can tell, but an annoyance all the same. They've been buzzing around and past Tony, flitting underfoot like overeager puppies. Ellis thought he could hear whispering whenever one zipped past his head, but they never linger long enough for him to make out the words.

"We should try going right at the end of this passage," Ellis says finally, as they begin crossing a vaguely familiar bridge. The edges of the smooth-worn stone siding are crumbling into the darkness beyond, his boots stirring little tufts of dust. He glances back over his shoulder, taking in the pinched expression on Tony's face, the way his head is tipped as if listening to something Ellis can't make out. "Tony."

His tone is calm, unhurried. But the sense that something's amiss won't be easy to ignore for much longer. If they turn right and then left but still end up on this bridge again—

bastien.

[cozen]

[ closed stuff, but starter requests & wildcards welcome. ]

for laura.

[cozen]

"I think we have already been this way," Bastien says to Laura, stopping at a juncture in the rubbly walls and pathways to look skyward, where instead of clouds, another portion of the Crossroads hands distantly overhead. He remembers the upside-down statue, he thinks, from 20 minutes prior. "And we went that way, so this time we should go..."

They have at least two other options. But before any choice can be made, a young voice behind and above them says, "You haven't been this way, monsieur. We would have seen you."

The voice doesn't sound entirely Orlesian—even the monsieur is a bit more like mon-ser. And Bastien has never heard his own voice from a remove, and he wouldn't remember what he sounded like when he was six or seven years old either way. So he turns expecting anything, up to and including an enormous Fear Demon that only has the voice of a child—and freezes for flicker of a moment when instead it's one of two ghostly children, up on the wall overhead.

The one that spoke is walking along the bricks, arms out for balance, wobbling now and then even though it isn't that narrow. Acrobat he is not. He's a small six or seven, with a face that's still trying very hard to be round, despite underfeeding, under a mop of disorganized curls. His clothes are several sizes too big for him but altered, patched, and belted in a way that suggests someone, somewhere, doesn't want him running around looking completely unkempt.

Bastien wouldn't recognize his own face at six or seven, either. He didn't spend much time around mirrors. But he had little brothers whose faces he does remember—and if all of that weren't enough for him to understand what's going on, there'd be the second child, who looks very much like Laura.

"Ah," he says. When in doubt, pretend nothing at all is the matter. "I suppose we would have seen you, too."

Sister Sara Sawbones

[okayimin]

a. wild goose spirits

Being someone who has no contact with the Fade on a regular basis makes this whole endeavor both unsettling and fascinating. Currently the fascination is outweighing everything else, particularly since the Crossroads seem to lack the impulse drive of dreams (where one is subject to the wills of the supposed narrative, such as they are). Sawbones has one of her journals out, furiously scribbling all that, while a flurry of glowing spirits zip around her.

This way! This way!

Don't listen to him, he's lying.

What are you looking for? I can help!

"One at a time, please," Sawbones says firmly, "I've a few questions for the lot of you."

b. inner child boulevard

The girl looks younger than she is, smaller than even a dwarven child should be. Painfully thin, signs of malnutrition and slow starvation in the large eyes and bloated stomach. Filthy and dressed in scraps that can hardly be called clothes. The brand on her cheek stands out, inflamed and livid against pale skin.

Sawbones sighs and rubs the bridge of her nose, saying to the spirit, "It's not helpful if you turn into someone who doesn't speak."

c. truth paths

Now this is fascinating.

"Moss is purple," Sawbones says. The path disappears. "Moss is a variety greens." The path appears. "Every individual is born with thirteen fingers." The path disappears. "Some individuals are born with thirteen fingers." The path reappears.

This isn't going to stop any time soon.

d. spirit of valor

The spirit is by all accounts very threatening, largely someone Sawbones would spend a great deal of time with her head down and speaking as little as necessary to. However the Crossroads have her bursting at the seams with curiosity and this is easily the most specific and fully formed spirit they've run into so far.

So Sawbones heads towards him with a keen look and entierly unarmed, "Hello. No, I won't be battling you today, put that sword down. I've a few questions for you."

wildcard

c.

[justashotaway]

"Some moss could be purple," Laura says, watching the path warily. That it threatens to vanish, simply by a word, is a difficult thing to guard against--especially when Sawbones continues to test it. If the path hears her, or has an opinion on the possibilities of purple moss, it doesn't seem to reflect it; Sawbones has given it enough to ponder, evidently. "We should continue."

john.

[hornswoggle]

[ same thing, closed starters under this header, feel free to hit me up on plurk if you want one or just drop a wildcard here. ]

[hornswoggle]

They've passed for some time in near silence. John had meant to avoid this entire venture, but it seems an opportunity that he shouldn't pass up. He'll have to have a similar discussion with Matthias as he'd had with Ilias and Leander and Isaac, but he doesn't see a clear beginning point.

The wisps seem interested, at least. As they've crossed through something that might be a ruin, they've picked up a little fleet of them. They buzz around John, and circle Matthias' in a vibrant, ever-shifting cloud of color. It feels like they've been made ostentatious to a troubling degree, but he'll take the wisps over the shrieking he's heard echoing back at them from some of the darkened passages they'd turned away from.

"Well, it seems it's time to make a decision. Left or right?" John asks, as they come to a wide, domed archway that branches into two paths just beyond the entrance. He bats an absent hand at the stormy blue wisp humming by his ear as he turns to look at Matthias and his flock with some amusement.

[doneisdone]

[specific starters in comments if necessary]

anywhere

It seemed like a simple enough mission, one with which even a person verging on elderly (say that to her face) who's recovering from a variety of health issues can assist, as long as she has a walking stick. Why Teren would consider any of Riftwatch's missions simple is a question she didn't think to ask herself until deep into the process, and she's several eluvians through when she has to pause to rest, scowling over the expansive walkway and steeling herself for whatever bullshit is to come.
She takes a long swig of whiskey from a flask and pockets it again, glancing at her companion as if daring them to tell her to hurry.


inner child

The skinny, sullen creature is identifiable as a girl only by the long Nevarran plait that falls past her hips, and even as a glowing ethereal being it's clear by the bruises on her face and arms she's been in a fight recently.
She says something in a dialect even most Nevarrans would find difficult to parse, and jerks her head to one side, indicating that she should be followed.
"Lead on then, you homely thing," sighs Teren, looking even more tired than she was before.


spirit of valor

"YOU MEAN TO SAY YOU ARE NOT UP TO THE CHALLENGE?" barks the spirit, a lazily-thrown knife cleaving through its middle as the assailant sits several feet away, taking care to aim such that the knives will land on the path behind the spirit and not be lost to the void forever.
"Turn around," Teren blandly insists, chucking another blade.
"NEVER HAVE I SEEN ONE SO DEVOID OF VALOR!"

This could go on for a while.

Valor IG U E S S

[gentlecountry]

It has been going on for a while. Truly, Teren's patience is to be commended, along with her methodical, commendable aim. Barty had enjoyed having the little set-down to catch his breath, and then he'd enjoyed guessing at the number of knives Teren might have secreted upon her person, but this was getting less and less fun as the amount of having to pick up knives was increasing.

"Now, what I'd likes to know is, what's so sodding valorous abouts fightings a spirit just to gets by," Barty says, finally, "Way I sees it—"

"WHAT POOR KNOWLEDGE COULD SUCH A HUMBLE CREATURE AS THEE CLAIM, OF VALOR."

The spirit's voice was a thunderclap, and Barty gave it a moment to finish in the same way he'd have given time for a young recruit or an idiot to finish. And then he continued as if no interruption had ever taken place.

"Way I sees it, Valor's all well and good, but ain't no courage in picking fights just to cross a bridge, and ain't no Valor in standing between folks what gots a job to do and their goal for no better reason than to picks that fight."

"VALOR IS ONLY TO BE WON OR GIVEN ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE! IN GLORIOUS COMBa—"

"Oh, I'll glorious at you whens we can'ts move on because your so-called valor goes and gets innocent lives lost for the sakes of a valorous delay. What's your game here, are you a spirits of valor or a spirits of spiteful villanies?"

The spirit advanced, hand on the hilt of his sword, one dangerous step foreward, and then another, with the front half of it's half-ghostly foot off the bridge it had been guarding. Barty very carefully did not glance down to note it; he simply took out his flask, and uncapped it while the spirit boomed, "YOU DARE INSULT MY VIRTUE?"

"Would if you hads one to speaks of," He tipped the flask back in a drink, and recapped it while he continued, "Ways I sees it, it's pure cowardice. Real valor'd lets us pass and go finds someones whats gots a purpose in fighting. Fighting for fighting's sake is no virtue, certainly nots the virtue of no valor."

This seemed to give the spirit pause. Its blind helmet-face turned to regard Teren, her with weariness in every line of her face, and the walking stick, the grey in her hair and the thin fragility of her wrists. Barty seemed no happier, regarding itself with suspicion and disappointment. Without another word it stepped off the bridge and to the side, and gave a salute, then turned on its heel and marched away, back over the bridge and then was gone.

Barty sniffed, straightened the set of his mail across his shoulders.

"Well. Can't say I were expectings that to actually work."

Sonia Barra

[vorbratta]

[ see the open prompts, or hit me up at runawayballista for a starter! or give me a wildcard. all elements of this event are fair game, i'm here for all of it ]

open to all!

[vorbratta]

a. inner child boulevard
"Do you need help?"

The paths seem to change with every step, rendering any strategic approach impossible. A girl appears as though sidling around a corner, barely thirteen with a long mess of dark hair that looks tangled and mussed. Her dress is well-made, speaking of privilege and wealth even in its relatively simple design, but rumpled and dirt-stained, one or two tears around the seams or edges. Her hands, too, are dirty, smudged in brown. Mostly dirt, but with blood mixed in, already dried. She appears standing, but she looks like she might have crawled here on her hands and knees.

She seems friendly, but there is a slightly haunted look about her. Her wide eyes don't seem fearful of the travelers, but of some other distant danger. Her body language is closed, clinging to herself. This air of painful vulnerability and the fact that she is a full head shorter than Sonia may well delay the realization of who she is, but the resemblance is difficult to not notice.

"I can show you the way."

b. suspicion circle
"Say -- didn't we pass that rock a half hour ago?"

Her voice is thin, nervous, and it's not all paranoia. It's a very distinctive-looking rock. She is not, generally speaking, particularly claustrophobic, but there's something just a little bit oppressive about these tunnels, something that makes it just a little bit hard to breathe. She realizes she's not even sure how much time has passed.

"How far do you think we've gone?"

c. puzzle room
Follow the paths. Right. This one leads into the rocky opening of what looks like some kind of chamber, high-ceilinged, like an atrium. And as soon as they set foot inside it, the entrance disappears, and they cannot go back out the way they came in. There also does not seem to be an exit on the other side of the chamber.

Instead, the chamber is populated with a variety of silver statues, some quite deliberately living subjects, some more abstract, many bearing what look like ancient symbols. On one wall hangs a mirror, but it seems to be a -- relatively -- ordinary mirror, just a simple reflection of whatever passes in front of it.

Sonia furrows her brow, and turns to her companion, palms out. "I don't suppose you've seen this one before?"

Val de Foncé

[degenere]

i. spirits of valor.
Bridges or paths may occasionally be occupied by these fierce spirits who will demand that any who wish to pass first best them in single combat. They can also sometimes be passed without a fight, if you manage to out-swagger them.

"And it is precisely because these pathways are so unknown, that we must walk them and learn all that we can of them." Val, mid-monologue, pauses only to gesture expansively around them. "Think of it. We are explorers, yes? We have embarked upon this for Riftwatch. And for Riftwatch, we will learn all that there is to know, and see all that there is to see, and we--"

Wait. Their way has narrowed down into a door shaped like an overlarge keyhole. It is large enough that the path that continues can still be seen, and Val's gesture has encompassed this way--and the figure that stands ahead of them. Imposing, swathed in darkness, his large hands laid at rest on the pommel of a broadsword, the tip of which is buried in the grit of the bridge that he guards.

Val switches his hand so that it is pointing at the figure. The spirit. "And who invited him?"


ii. puzzles.
The path before them leads down a tunnel, narrow walls and a high ceiling, and a floor marked in an irregular grid. It begins broadly, four boxes across--and then narrows to three--and then one, and then two, and then another four, all the way to a final single box at the end of the path, before the great stone door that at present stands closed.

Elven symbols are carved in each box, faintly glowing, as if only just kissed by veilfire. Val cocks his head, studying the way, and then crouches down to take the black ball in hand.

"Sheep's bladder," he says, thoughtfully, and holds it up for inspection. "We must throw it and leap to where it lands. I did not know that elves invented this game!"


iii. wildcard!
Why don't YOU write ME something. I'll do whatever!

puzzles - closed to wysteria

[degenere]

"Of course I see the meaning of this."

They have been standing in front of the puzzle board for some moments now. First side by side, and then pacing opposite directions around its perimeter, examining their challenge from all angles before joining back together again at the very place that they started.

The surface before them is carved with a pattern of circles, perhaps double the size of one's hand. It stands six circles by four, each of the six carved with a matching elven symbol in their center--and then the next line of six with a different elven symbol--and the next, a different, and the last carved with a final symbol. There upon the wall, the four symbols are marked, with a large spinner made of smooth carved horn. Val folds his arms, quite satisfied with his cleverness. Then he looks over at the mademoiselle, to see if she has an expression of similar cleverness. (She will not.)

"Surely you have as well, by now."

Nikos Averesch

[exsecutus]

i- impulse avenue.
The spirit hovering at Nikos' shoulder is insubstantial, almost formless, and glows with a kind of buttery light. Its quality of warmth is striking, especially on the path that he's walking. He is committed to ignoring it, slumping along with his usual sullen impatience, but the spirit doesn't seem to mind. It bobs along with cheer and goodwill. After a few moments of this, it takes the opportunity to zip over to whoever is unfortunate enough to have been paired with Nikos, ready to act as his ambassador.

When Nikos shoots it a glare, the spirits light dims. In its core there is still a glow to it that cannot be ignored, something that lives beyond even his influence.

"Ignore it," he suggests, grimly. "Maybe it will go away."


ii- wild goose spirits.
The way is quiet, only the crunching of footsteps on rock--then a distant rumble, and the sound of earth shifting, and a chorus of screams bursts from down a side path. Nikos' head whips around, alert prickling at his skin. Fear and desperation, a gibbering chorus that echoes from the depths of the darkness.

Footsteps come next, pounding up the path. An elven girl comes dashing out of the darkness, her face streaked with dirt and blood. There's a wound at her hairline, rock dust in her hair.

"Please," she gasps, and points back the way that she came with a trembling hand. "Please--the passage, it-- it collapsed--"

iii - wildcard.
Write me anything about anything and I'll tag it, thanks.

impulse ave - closed to Caspar.

[exsecutus]

The spirit hovers, thoughtfully, and then zips in close so it can cuddle up to Caspar's face. This is the tenth time that it has done this in the last five minutes, insistent upon its position. Its inner glow is the pleasant dreamy pink of a cloud at sunrise. It nuzzles at him with great affection, oblivious to their true purpose on this path.

Nikos--also for the tenth time in the last five minutes--says, sharply, "Stop."

The spirit pays him no mind and continues to cuddle up to Caspar.

Jenny Lou

[windyvoice]

a. Mood Wisps

She's managed to attract several of these little dudes. They're all a bouncy, glowing yellow and humming bright and tuneless.

"Dude, you guys should totally be in a band," she tells them, delightedly nudging her companion, "Right? They sound crazy good. Like no melody, but that pitch though."

b. Reconciliation Road

The tablet to brain transmission is weird. Like everything here is weird, but this is the weirdness frosting on the weird cake. "So, we just gotta like argue about something? That's so fucking weird, what if you don't have anything to argue about when you get here? Like back when they used these things on the reg."

c. Suspicion Circle

Every rock looks the fucking same and Jenny Lou is pretty sure they're going in fucking circles. And on top of that there's these stupid naggy fucking whispers about how they're gonna leave her behind and she'll be stuck here forever and blah blah blah blah.

"Honestly, fuck this spirit bullshit up the ass," she says, fidgeting restlessly with her bracelet.

WILDCARD

wisps

[dirth]

Solas, at least, looks positively thrilled by the fact that they're surrounded by wisps and spirits. He's not grinning necessarily, but the soft, pleased smile on his face is likely more than enough to alert anyone to the fact that he is pleased by the nature of their undertaking. The Crossroads is almost like home to him now, an ache deep in his chest.

It still feels like something is missing.

Jenny Lou catches his attention, of course, since she doesn't seem at all concerned about their new companions.

"They're not the worst music I've ever heard."

leo fitz.

[technologist]

[ closed starters, hmu at awarewolf or wildcard if you want to do something! ]

for leander.

[technologist]

Maps aren't all that different from blueprints, and Fitz is good at those. It follows, then, that this shouldn't be a complete nightmare to accomplish. It's a shockingly optimistic take with a very short shelf life, because it turns out it's actually very difficult to map things that give zero fucks about the laws of physics.

He's been fairly quiet up until this point, more business-oriented than unfriendly. The scrap of paper he's writing on is too small to qualify as a scroll — almost a napkin, which probably doesn't make him look like a professional cartographer. Worse, it's currently crumpled up in his left hand as he pinches the bridge of his nose with the right, exhaling curtly.

"How are we supposed to map pathways that won't stay where they're—" A quick stop before the inevitable curse, then he fixes his partner with an expectant look. "You're local, yeah. Any brilliant suggestions?"

loxley.

[charmoffensive]

[ ooc ; you know the drill! ]

truth paths. richard dickerson.

[charmoffensive]

They have taken turns in leading and following. Loxley, when in front, picking out the simplest paths in complex structures of strange tumbled brick, floating pathways, normally moving with an abrupt rapidness in the interests of scouting ahead.

However, now it is Richard taking the lead in accordance with written instruction and note making. The terrain, if you squint, looks like a vast mountainside, adorned only with half-collapsed stone walls and rippled stone paths, vines and moss growing over and through. Up close, however, it feels like they are walking on a mere shell of landscape, where gaps between winding paths show infinite void beneath a few precious feet of earth and rock.

Occasionally, a carelessly placed foot will have the ground crumble and fracture ever so. They are moving slowly.

And amicably. It has been business as usual between them, with light commentary on the playful activity of the spirits on the increase since the first time they were there, and factual exchange of information as to what they are doing.

And Loxley asks, now, apropos of very little, as he follows Richard at a comfortable battlesquare length of five feet or so, "Did you leave anyone behind? Among the Yuan-ti."

Kitty

[rathercommon]

[rathercommon]

i. Impulse Avenue
[ Kitty isn't really great at suppressing her impulses even at the best of times. So there's a spirit - little more than a wisp - sort of slouching along the path in a way that seems a little irritable and a little anxious; and, at the same time, the expression on Kitty's face reads a little irritable and a little anxious. ]

We've been this way before. Haven't we?


ii. Reconciliation Road
[ She knows what she has to do.

She really, really doesn't like what she has to do.

The look she's fixed on her companion can best be described as baleful - short of angry, but well beyond resentful. But, dutifully, she mutters at them - ]

Sorry.


iii. Wild card

kostos averesch.

[exequy]

[ closed stuff, but starter requests & wildcards welcome. ]

for nell & betrys.

[exequy]

There are, admittedly, only about three people in the entire organization Kostos could traipse around the Crossroads with without being a miserable asshole about it. Nell is definitely currently not on that list. Neither is the sweet-faced new Marcher whose name he hasn't forgotten, but rather not bothered to ask. Over the course of the morning he's said more words to the wisp following them around than to either of the humans, growing progressively more sullen every time they hit another dead end path or another broken mirror.

Still, if things haven't been going well, they have at least been going somewhere, until he and Nell wind up walking side by side. It feels intentional, even though it isn't, and Kostos hisses, "I don't want to talk to you," which is very stupid. He could have just said fuck off. Instructions don't have truth values.

I don't want to talk to you does, and the path ahead of them abruptly vanishes.

sten/deimos

[hemitheoi]

i. reconciliation road
Deimos can quite happily, fight with anyone about the colour of the sky if he wanted to. In fact, he does so often.

But what is impossible - is apologising, and finding common ground. He is right, they are wrong, and that's it.

"Fuck that stupid riddle. Why would it want us to agree about shoes anyway?"

ii. inner child avenue
The boy that was Deimos - has no name, his horns are just little stubs, his clothes are ratty, the scars are raw on his knuckles, black and blue, and he sniffles whilst wiping his nose with the back of his hand - he's taken a beating. He's taken several, from the look of him. His grey-silver skin mottled with the markings of it, faded and new.

His hand is clutched around a short sword he curls to his chest. Prized, or perhaps, simply, he knows the price of losing it to anyone.

Deimos - makes a disgusted noise.

"Get out of here! Get!"

But the boy doesn't, he just flinches but hovers on the back step. "Please, I'm hungry, I'm hungry and Tama said I haven't earned food today - "

The boy couldn't be older than seven. His voice soft, well-spoken, his eyes trying so desperately looking for kindness, even a scrap of it. Anything at all that would ease the pain he is so clearly in.

But Deimos shows him no more mercy than he was shown then. The order booming. "Go!"

baby??

[raas]

She should not be here, and if she had any sense she would have refused outright. But taking comfort in what duty remained to her was a comfort not unlike saving the scrap of a childhood blanket long beyond the time that such indulgences were permitted. The pitch and timbre of a child's voice was as distinct and familiar as following the well-worn lines of duty. How foolish she is, to abandon the well-worn path in search of it, when she knows full well what this place is, what it can do.

Still, the familiar figure of the Sten causes her to reevaluate somewhat; he is so stubborn that he is as good a guardrail for southern nonsense as she is likely to have here, so mundane and so- so Sten that reality is forced into familiar lines around him.

And then there is also the child.

Not real. Not a real child. But Tamassran are as conditioned as the rest of them, and even as she comes to stand beside the Sten, she cannot resist the extra step forward, the outstretched hand-

(She would have succumbed very quickly as a Saarebas.)

elven hopscotch || closed to Yseult and Athessa

[staysail]

"It's too easy for you," Darras calls to Yseult, as he stands balanced on one foot not even halfway down the hall.

Underfoot, the grid is carved into the stone floor, a series of boxes that are stacked in alternating patterns. Two across at the broad bottom where they had entered the room, the next row then narrows down to one--and then one, again--and then two again--and so on, all the way down the hall. The grid ends just before a great stone door. The margin on either side of the grid is very narrow. Veilfire symbols glow in the middle of each box, providing a very particular sort of underlight to the scene.

The instructions at the start had been clear. The only way that the door will open is if they complete this path, hopping from square to square and remaining balanced on the foot they landed on--unless they're lucky enough to come to a row with two squares, and can stand with a foot in either one. Weighted bags of sand determine their next move. Throw it too far and you've got to hop all that way. Throw it too close, and your distance is less, at least for that round--but the game takes longer.

Darras casts a glance to Athessa for support. "She'll have to have a handicap. Walk it on her hands instead of hopping. Dunno why I'm appealing to you, actually, I can only imagine you're nimbler'n me as well."

[sulahnan]

Athessa's watching with arms akimbo, one eyebrow raised skeptically. The other joins it in elevation at Darras' suggestion.

"Should I walk it on my hands, then?" She asks with an unperturbed shrug. She could probably manage footless hop-scotch. "I mean if I have to beat your time I don't think it's gonna be that much of a challenge anyway."

It won't be her turn until Darras is done, and at this rate...well, she would sit down if Yseult weren't also here.

thranduil

[rowancrowned]

i. inner child

The younger elf is very much Thranduil's mirror, down to the shape of his nose and the set of his mouth, but Thranduil is modest and even austere by comparison, in that the child has jewelled flowers placed artfully in his hair and is wearing a robe with embroidery that quite likely took decades.

He blinks big pretty grey eyes, and holds out a pale uncalloused hand. The nails shine with clear varnish. He is the picture of cherubic health.

"I will take you," he says, and the accent is more pronounced, the lilt turning the words sing-song.

Thranduil gestures impatiently.

"Do it," he says.

ii. wildcard
( PP me at pr0ph3t for a custom starter or toss whatever at me )

i. INNER CHILD TIME

[sulahnan]

This is bizarre. And hilarious. But mostly bizarre. Of anyone in Riftwatch, Athessa would've expected herself to appear unchanged compared to her younger self, but here Thranduil is, and there Thranduil is as well, looking like he's just gotten a makeover.

"I'll help! I'm good at tracking!"

That voice, high pitched and with a slight lisp thanks to a few missing baby teeth, comes from a little smudge of dirt and wild curls just beyond the younger Thranduil. Looking to be about six or seven, the miniature Athessa is beaming up at all three of her taller new friends, excited at the prospect of showing off her skills.

The older Athessa looks at Thranduil, the austere one, and compresses her lips in a tight smile. "This can't go wrong at all."