![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
expiationmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
expiationlogs2023-11-11 02:14 pm
{EVENT #5} ADVERSITY 3386435.8364
| MOD NOTES: Please direct any questions to the corresponding comment below. Note that character decisions and actions taken on these prompts will affect future events, storylines, and relationships with other peoples of Expiation. - This event is forward dated! The characters will be going to Rumpitur on the 17th, and the second part of the event will be going up on the 25th. - There will be a second part to this log! This will include some RNG sign-ups that will be affected by how the first part of the log shakes out. - Please note that for RNG sign-ups, for those who sign up, there is a possibility that your character could be injured or even killed. You will not know what you’re signing up for in advance, as there are several different ways it could go. Please be aware of this when signing up! - We're putting this event up a little early because we were unable to get the event done enough in time to outline it for everyone at the beginning of the month. If you'd like to do a plot with me with people, the post is here! The poll will be going up on Monday, which was the original day the event was to be posted. - We very much encourage questions for this event OOCly to the mods, as this is an exploratory sort of event. It's very important to us that everyone gets the information that they want! The various prompts are, of course, optional. |
The chilly November weather seems reflective of the chilly attitudes of Aldrip’s local population. With their fellows still missing, most of them aren’t warming to your presence at all. On the other hand, messengers from the nearby city of Rumpitur have arrived at Aldrip’s gates wanting to open a trade route and strengthen relations between the two towns.
Those who have been here a while have been to Rumpitur before, and remember the snake people as being welcoming and friendly. To get to the city, Chosen will have to travel through Pessiria Forest down to the coast. The road forks at this point: go one way and you arrive in Rumpitur. The other way leads to the mysterious walled city of Ketsora, a place that seems…well, a little unfriendly.
Aldrip’s locals seem more open to working with them than with the Chosen right now, so they readily agree to a trade deal. They even agree that the Chosen can be involved. Rumpitur locals offer to bring wagons to make the trip easier, and say they will arrive on November 17.
SHE'LL BE COMING DOWN THE MOUNTAIN
True to their word, on November 17, a few Rumpiturians arrive to deliver several wagons, each of which can carry up to a dozen people. They weren’t using them anyway, they say–they were just gathering dust. Well, whatever the case, you don’t have to walk all the way to Rumpitur now with tons of stuff to carry.
Which is good. Because in spite of the fact that Mr. Expedition has poked his nose in to see what everyone’s up to, he adamantly refuses to help anyone travel.
”Absolutely not,” he says airily, ”you couldn’t pay me to set foot near that place.”
Why is he so wary of it? He…doesn’t say, of course.
That’s fine. Everyone has their thing, right?
Anyway, the wagon seems like it’d be faster than traveling on foot, but do take into account that the horses (or chocobos, for those who will) pulling them will have to stop for rests, because they’re hauling quite a load! The trip will take one full day, meaning you might need to camp out for the night near Pessiria Forest.
That’s also fine. Very, very fine.
THINGS'LL BE GREAT WHEN YOU'RE DOWNTOWN
The Chosen arrive in Rumpitur just in time to witness a big commotion happening at the center of town. One of their own, the renowned restaurateur Agantha the King of Spices (bold claim, but okay), has gone missing! Clues are slim, unfortunately, and the Rumpiturians urge their guests not to get involved. They’ll handle their own matters.
But…curiously enough, they mention something about a flyer, and a meeting the famous chef was interested in attending.
Rumpitur has changed a bit since the last time the Chosen came to visit. Before, it was a bustling city, full of life and seemingly at the height of success. Looks like they hit a plateau. There are “for sale” signs in the windows of various buildings, all in various states of disrepair. The Rumpiturians don’t exactly look like they’re having a great time: a little leaner and less well-groomed than last time you were here, they all seem a little like they could use more sleep and a chance to rest in general. There’s an air of nervousness in the air.
No wonder they’re looking for trade partners. Pickings in town seem slim.
They’re all excited to see the Chosen, and most regard them with friendliness and almost an overabundance of hospitality. In spite of the shabbiness of the town overall, the market is hopping, full of strange and exciting goods and trinkets. Jewelry, weapons, armor, books–all things that might pique the curiosity of those who like the finer things in life. They’ll be selling these things cheap, either for coin or trade. Food seems to be at a premium, here, getting you twice as much as you paid for.
Overall, Rumpiturian hospitality may remind the Chosen of what things used to be like in Aldrip. For the first few days, the inns in town offer rooms for free to those who will, and even once they start charging, they offer the same incredibly low prices and exchange rates as their merchants. If this gives you the impression that they can be taken for more, you would be correct. Rumpiturians are slightly desperate, especially for food and other staple goods. They won't argue any price the Chosen wish to take for it. Their distracted state means they make easy marks for theft, as well, for those who may be so inclined to use their five-finger discount.
Investigations about their missing person are met with uncharacteristic stonewalling, thoygh. They refuse to talk about it, for the most part; when pressed, they make vague accusations that this sort of activity is why they cut off trade with Ketsora ages and ages ago. Apparently they sent someone recently to try to negotiate a new relationship with the elusive city. It…didn't go well. Can't trust those shifty bird-worshippers, so they say. This is what they get for trying to mend old strife.
ii. STOP! HALT!
Hospitality aside, there are a few areas of Rumpitur that have been cordoned off, both with signs and with guards posted outside. What they’re guarding seems completely unclear; the areas look fairly average, with nothing notable about them.
The first area is the docks where Rumpiturians keep their boats. When asked why this area is off-limits, the guards will explain that they have recently run into trouble with bandits stealing boats in the night. They have no proof, but they seem to suspect Ketsora of meddling and taking their things. It seems the two towns don’t always, or often, see eye-to-eye.
The second area seems to be a block of warehouses and derelict buildings. With things being visibly worn-down, their explanation seems to make sense: with all the new people, they don’t want anyone wandering into a dangerous area where they might get hurt! It all checks out; you may even see a few stones falling while you ask about it. Still, for some reason, it looks like one or two buildings have lights on inside.
Those industrious and stealthy enough to manage a stakeout will begin to see weak spots in their watch patterns; when the guards change shifts, there is opportunity for infiltration.
TO BOLDLY GO...
After the kidnapping of their famed local chef, bad feelings from Rumpitur about Ketsora couldn’t be higher–not only do they suspect the isolated town of kidnapping their fellow townsperson, they also seem to blame the neighboring town for all manner of other woes that have befallen the town. A surplus of injuries keeping people from working, a poor harvest, shipments going missing by sea…it seems they’ve become more of a scapegoat to blame for everything that might go wrong.
Which is weird, because the whole town is walled off, and has been for ages.
Being very large snake-people, Rumpiturians aren’t exactly great at stealth: they’re slow-moving and can be a bit loud. So they finally relent to those Chosen who have been asking around and investigating. Their request? Infiltrate Ketsora and find their missing person. Please.
iii. NOT SO FRIENDLY
The road to Ketsora is fairly short, once you’re in Rumpitur. It only takes a few hours to get there, but you can see the wall even from a distance. It’s large and solid and very very intimidating, circling the enormous city like a barrier ring. Approaching the wall almost instantly seems like a bad idea: anyone approaching will be greeted by a warning arrow shot at their feet, with a threat of more if they don’t turn around and go back where they came from.
So much for hospitality.
Off the road to the north of Ketsora, Chosen can get a better view of the extent of the wall by way of a few large rocky hills. From what they can see, there seem to be archers posted at regular intervals along the entire top edge of the wall. The more daring among the Chosen might take the space between archers as a blind spot, especially under cover of darkness or when the archers change shifts. But getting to the wall is just part of the problem; after that, you have to figure out how to get past it. And the large, heavy gates at the front of the city don’t look like they’re opening any time soon…
Those who wish to investigate Ketsora should also be wary of local fauna. Specifically, monsters. They seem more prevalent here than in the areas around Aldrip, and unlike home sweet home, they don’t seem wary of the Chosen at all.
For now, this is as close as Chosen can get, unfortunately. Maybe some further investigation will reveal ways to get in…or maybe eventually they'll be willing to open their gates in the future.
Just because there’s not a prompt for it doesn’t mean that your character’s actions aren’t acceptable. If you wish to do anything that hasn’t been directly addressed by the prompts, leave a message for the mod team to say what your character would do. If you choose to go down this path, note it as a comment on the OOC poll when it goes up, and leave a link to your threads so that we can take all actions into consideration for the next State of the Game.
WYVERN BESTIE - c
But now the swoop of wyvern's wings freezes her in her tracks. The leather thwumm, thwumm--racing up from the south, circling overhead as the sun beat down, casting hideous shadows on the sands--
She draws her sword, cold sweat running down the back of her neck as she forces herself to turn and face the rider--and then she remembers that this isn't Aed, and Travant is not here.]
Claude?
no subject
Huh. ]
No need to go swinging that thing around, mind. [ He strokes his hand down her massive neck, a little protectively. ] She's a real sweetheart.
no subject
She lowers her sword slowly, watching him stroke the beast's neck as though it's a horse. No, it's Claude, she reminds herself. He's not vicious. Dracoknights in his world wouldn't be the same as in hers.]
Sorry. I--was just surprised. [Oof. That doesn't sound true.] Dracoknights are--at home--enemies.
no subject
[ The smile quickly fades from his expression. Almyrans are wyvern knights as well, famously so. Fodlani people ride wyverns as well, but not with as much skill - in Claude's opinion - and it's not as culturally baked into their way of life. To Almyrans, wyverns are something special, even more honoured than horses and pegasi, treasured as companions beyond even cats and dogs. They're an animal-loving people, Almyrans. It's part of what makes him proud to be one of them.
Even if the mere sight of his birthright is enough to make Ethlyn reach for her weapon. The look of disappointment leaves him almost immediately, though, replaced with his ever-present smile. ]
Well, I'm no enemy, even if I do ride a wyvern. It's not that different from a pegasi or a horse, is it? We all rely on animals for our daily lives. Whatever they're made to do, it's not their fault.
no subject
No, I know you're not. [She sheathes her sword and tries to force her own face into looking--if not happy--at least normal. It's like being in that abandoned town in the desert--the cold rush of mortality down her spine. But the desert isn't a living being with feelings. Claude is.
And he has a point. Warhorses can't inflict the kind of vicious, bloody injuries on a body that a wyvern does, but they are still living weapons. She's seen men trampled, bones broken too badly to mend, intelligent and quick-witted men reduced to children after a bad kick to the helmet.] I have bad memories of them, but not with you. Or your friend. What's her name?
no subject
[ He does. Ethlyn isn't wrong for having that bone-deep wariness that she does. It's dispiriting, certainly. That he reminds Ethlyn of those that killed her due to nothing more than cultural similarities; a different culture, with different customs. Perhaps her attackers meditate with the sun as Claude does, or worship nature instead of a god, or any number of things. Would Ethlyn even know?
Probably not. Fodlani don't know either. But Ethlyn and her people, they died. He'd be a fool to expect her to react otherwise. Moreover... it's a reminder to him of how monumental a task he has before him. ]
I won't bring her around you if you don't want me to -- unless it's an emergency, of course. Then she goes where I do. [ He pats her neck fondly. ] Her name is Zafeera, or... Zaffy. [ Zaffy more often in Fodlan. It's less suspicious. ] She's impeccably trained, I promise.
no subject
[She wishes she could make herself reach up to pat the wyvern--Zafeera--the way Claude does, but her arm doesn't move.
But it does help that this wyvern doesn't look much like Travant's at all--light scales rather than dark, a rounder snout, horns that look more like antlers than an extra set of claws. And she's sure Travant doesn't call his mount by as cutsey a name as Zaffy.]
She has a lovely name. Did you raise her?
no subject
This is what he wants, isn't it? To fix these wounds, person by person. ]
We've been together since I was very young. She was the best friend a kid could ask for. She's... spirited, but very gentle. There was no safer place back home than in the stables with her.
[ He had spent a lot of time there, as a child. When the palace seemed too vast, too dangerous, his heart fluttering like a rabbit's, knowing that he couldn't turn to his parents for safety or for comfort -- he had turned to the wyvern pens instead, knowing that he was safe within his wyvern's leathery embrace. He had used her wing as a blanket for as long as he could remember.
It had been awful, parting from her to go to school abroad. He's just glad that Nader had managed to return her to him. ]
All knights are attached to their steeds, aren't they? I'm sure you had one of your own.
no subject
It still seems surreal at best to look at the massive head with its sharp golden eyes and vicious teeth and think of it as a companion, a partner. But she knows that feeling of safety, of security that can only come with a trusted animal friend. After her mother died, she would 'practice' riding far more often than was necessary. When she realized she had to confront her father about his neglect of proper dress and decorum, she rehearsed her words with her pony, who bore her pacing and venting patiently... so long as she remembered to bring a carrot as a reward.
Did Claude ever do the same? She wonders what he kept in his pockets--salted fish, perhaps, or dried beef.]
I do remember the pony I learned to ride on. He was very patient. When I was ever worried, or had to do the kind of thing that frightens you when you're young... well, I wouldn't say he understood, exactly, but he did care. You can tell when an animal considers you their own.
You're very lucky, being able to keep your companion with you from childhood.
no subject
[ It had still been difficult to leave his family, mind. He has issues with them, as all children do their parents, but at the end of the day, they love each other dearly. Still, to leave them had meant freedom. To leave Zafeera was to leave a poor creature whose only crime it was to give away his cover. He'd explained it to her, hoped that she understood, but she's just an animal after all. He pats her neck again, as though apologizing. ]
But once the war started, an old friend reunited us. [ Nader had given him an earful about the state of the King while he was at it, mourning the loss of his favourite son. He still didn't look back at Almyra. He's only ever been able to look ahead. ] Thankfully she forgave me, though it took some doing.
I'm sure you feel much the same way about your steed here. A new friend, but a good one nonetheless. Me, I never got the hang of horses. I prefer being able to move in all directions.
no subject
[Although Ethlyn does try to be very conscientious of that. There are situations and places where she has deliberately not brought him. As well-named as he is, he is not a warhorse trained to trust his rider more than his instinctual fears.]
...I never thought of that. You're moving in a completely different dimension up there, aren't you?