{ Player Event } What's true of all the evils in the world is true of the plague as well

[quizpersona]

Who: You. (Open to all)
Where: All over Aldrip.
What: This is the log for what we’ve been affectionately dubbing The Organ Player Plot. Various places around Aldrip are facing dangerous supernatural occurrences. It’s a scavenger hunt in some way.
Warnings: MANY SNAKES, Body Horror, Organ Trafficking, Horror Themes, Violence, and we will be updating this as we go along.



A waking scream in the darkness is the first unheard omen.

Snakes, hundreds if not thousands, slither forth from the depths of Lorentia Cave and swiftly invade Aldrip. They are the heralds of the terrible things to come, and there are no corners safe from their encroachment. The serpents come in all shape and sizes, venomous or not, and are quick to become agitated if approached. Their readiness to strike and unwillingness to back off once provoked indicates the lack of survival instinct to flee. They are on the search for what's missing, and they will put up a fight.

An invisible haze sets upon the city , filled with anguish and fury, afflicting residents as it washes through the air and buildings. Children, the elderly, and the sickly are the first to complain of ailment. Within the next few days, patients begin to flood the doors of any hospital or clinic with more serious conditions-- fevers burning from them inside out and excruciating phantom pains that make them writhe in bed.

The longer what's stolen is not returned, the worse things get. Who knows how many bodies will pile high from these plagues if nothing gets done...





ooc//
[ Dara is currently locked behind a barrier in Lorentia Cave to stave off the further spread of deadly miasma. Please retrieve a protection talisman from Seimei and retrieve what she’s lost (and hopefully return it…) !

How This Works–
To begin the search for the supernatural sources a participant can select a number that corresponds to one of the squares on the map (seen below). To go on a route head on down to the numbered top levels in the comments and reply to it. This is your character kicking off their investigation. Some routes will lead to nowhere, some to something, and others to ;)? You’ll find out.

During exploration you will receive responses from either quizpersona or cursegod. This is not an interaction with that particular character unless indicated otherwise.

This event will handwave wrap up by the 20th if no conclusion is reached before then because Dara needs her poor organs back. ]

The Map


Happy Belated Easter lol

Comments

[emet_sulk]

[ Emet-Selch isn't necessarily altruistic but neither is he a fool - leaving this matter alone isn't good for anyone and, if nothing else, he wants to return to a quiet, peaceful life.

Since his home is on the outskirts of the residential area anyway (well, more suburban now with the city layout change), he ventures out to see if he can hunt down the woman's missing...parts. ]

[quizpersona]

[ These are familiar treading grounds for Emet-Selch: it doesn't take long to notice the burgeoning quiet that doesn't equate to peace. Shutters are drawn, doors are held firmly shut—all in the vain hope that it'll be enough to keep out the sickening lethargy in the air itself. The people who live here have no means to know what it is; a great unknown that plagues them for a reason they don't know nor understand.

Further along the ashen road there is the sound of crying, there is the helpless pleading of someone trying their best to maintain composure. Will Emet-Selch progress further in? ]

[emet_sulk]

[ The atmosphere is almost suffocating but he perseveres. He quickens his pace and hurries towards the pleading. He traces a quick defensive spell in the air just in case it's a trap. Who (or what) does he find? ]

[quizpersona]

[ What he finds are two locals. One is knelt by the other's side while that second is crumpled to the floor in agony. These are victims of the miasma. At a closer glance this is a sickness that permeates all the way in the very soul.

The more conscious of the two regards Emet-Selch with dull eyes. It looks like they go through a great amount of pain to move their miasma racked body to look up at him imploringly. ]

Please— !

[ A mantle made of the hopes of others is cast upon the shoulders of Emet-Selch. What will he do with it? ]

...Please help!

[emet_sulk]

[ A sharp spike of anxiety lances through his chest. For a moment, he's frozen, recalling other times and other places. But then he forces his feet forward and comes to kneel beside the pair. He's already raising his hand to try and heal the fallen local - difficult when he's unable to perceive the exact way the miasma has taken hold of them.

The best he can do is cast generic, cleansing magic. ]

[quizpersona]

[ An even closer look reveals more. There is no relying on soulsight for Emet-Selch to see the true affect clearly but their mimicry of sentience and increasingly sluggish state of their bodies makes it seem like the miasma is steadily drawing their "life force" somewhere.

Does Emet-Selch have a Protective Talisman on him? ]

[emet_sulk]

[ No protective talisman for him, so assured he is in the strength of his will and the power of his own magicks to keep him safe. Perhaps if he had been availed of certain, future knowledge from his castmates, he would have taken the protection. Or perhaps he would not have.

Either way, Emet-Selch can at least tell that their life is being drained. Adding more fuel to the proverbial fire to keep them alive would likely only drain HIM as well.

...So instead, he tries to reach blindly for their souls and pull BACK. ]

CW body horror

[quizpersona]

[ With the source of the corruption still unremedied the act of maintaining these wretches' life force begins to feel like a sisyphean task. What reaches back is no soul, nor any semblance of one. It's the miasma looking to spread and infect Emet-Selch. From one host to a hopeful next it lances through the connection as he grabs hold of what tethers the victim to life.

The local screams in agony, and with that scream their jaw unhinges unnaturally wide as if it's being torn. It's a hallucination, one that will begin to crawl up and under the skin of his arm if he maintains his current path. It feels so real.

Will he save himself and abandon these victims to their fate, or will he persist? Has he weighed his options? ]

LOUD EXPLOSION SET OFF HERE

[emet_sulk]

[ He grits his teeth, staring down the horror in stubborn defiance. It isn't the worst he's seen. Nothing can surpass what he's seen in so many thousands of years of living, real or otherwise. However, will he cut them off to save himself? He can feel it sinking into his arm, crawling beneath his own skin like a tumour.

He has to make a split second decision.

I can do it, I can take it.

An old soul like him, capable of handling more aether back home than any single one of the Source's greatest mages could ever dream of, capable of walking on even when burdened with the weight of duty and despair over some twelve thousand years: he forces his other hand up and fires a loud explosion above him to alert any and all who might be nearby. It can serve as a warning; it can serve as a beacon calling for help. But as soon as he gets it off, he suddenly stops resisting and drags everything he can out of the two strangers into himself. ]

[quizpersona]

[ Now that Emet-Selch has taken all of that miasma upon himself he may finally understand. The cursed ichor settles heavily within like a bad omen all too readily. In large doses the miasma begins to convince the soul that it must begin it's journey to the afterlife even if the body is alive and presumably healthy. There will be moments where Emet-Selch may believe himself already passed on, before a brief moment of clarity may hit him. It's a struggle to decide what reality is during this moment of agony. Why are you still holding on? What for?

Now that they have had the miasma drawn out of them the locals call out in visible concern but it's hard to hear what they might be saying. With the way they reach for him it seems that they wish to help him stay standing to get the help he needs. ]

[emet_sulk]

Don't touch me!

[ He spits that out past gritted teeth having fallen to his hands and knees. It's the worst he's ever felt. When the world was ending, in the aftermath of Hydaelyn's fatal stroke, Emet-Selch had thought then that nothing could compare to seeing his people reduced to less than a shadow of themselves. When he saw what they did to one another, he resolved to fix it. Fix everything.

For twelve thousand years, he toiled for that purpose. The maze last year challenged him for what felt like another twelve thousand more. And you know what? He's still here. Not dead - not even after wishing for it so many times in so many lives and faces and bodies.

Emet-Selch begins to laugh. It's harsh and no doubt disturbing to the two civilians who want to help. He slowly, painfully, gets his feet beneath him and drags himself upright. The red mark of his station flashes across his face as his entire being rebels against the miasma.

With such pain wracking his body, using any sort of magic is beyond him. ]

Go find that...priest, or shaman...whatever he is. And warn him I'm coming.

[ Where were they stationed again? He sways and the world spins. It will keep spinning even without him now, he realises. The time of the ancients is over.

But not him. And if he cannot fly then he will walk. He'll pull himself ilm by godsdamned ilm through this life just to spite Hydaelyn and her followers and to tell her: he survived the worst her new world had to offer and he's still here. ]

[foxphorus]

[ The locals, facing an odd mixture of relief, gratitude, and fear at the spectacle their savior has become, find it easiest to obey the order barked with such authority and run.

It's a small mercy that Seimei's station is closeby. He's not keen on leaving it unattended for too long, but when the panicking locals tell him this person in need is right in the direction that sudden explosion came from earlier, he knows he has to suck it up. Three talismans, his brush and ink, and an extra sheet of unfolded paper are all that will be burdening him in the much quicker time it takes to be led back to the scene.

If Emet was still trying to walk there on his own, he'll be met on the way by the three in short order. ]

You--?

[ This man is familiar. He's certainly seen the face, at least, fuzzy memories from when the entire town had been rewritten not too long ago that he'd been subconsciously trying to forget. But that isn't the most important thing right now.

The most important thing is that Emet has enough concentrated miasma in him to wither your average human being into a shriveled husk within the day. It's frankly baffling that he can stand at all--which he shouldn't be, by the by, so, ]

Lie down. I'm here to help you.

[ Said with both urgency and authority. Doesn't matter if they're on dirt, cobblestone, what have, you. Lie down, Emet. ]

[emet_sulk]

[ He doesn't have the strength to argue. Indeed, he practically collapses on the spot while his surroundings continue to teeter precariously on the edges of his mind. His entire being is committed to staying alive, forcing the miasma to remain contained within him so that it doesn't become a new problem for this man and his helpers to deal with.

He's barely responsive. His eyes track Seimei's movements purely through colour recognition. ]

Apologies...for the...inconvenience.

[foxphorus]

[ Lie down, collapse, the end result is the same so it's fine. Scraped knees will be much simpler to deal with than this.

Seimei motions for the concerned locals to stand back, which thankfully they do, while he adjusts Emet to lay on his side. With how severe this is he may need to forego clean brush strokes for precision and efficiency, so the hand not keeping Emet steady will be setting his inkwell down to dip a finger into like a child. ]

Don't be afraid to cry out. This isn't going to be a pleasant experience.

[ Carefully, considering the awkward angle, a five pointed star will be drawn with that third eye right in its center. ]

[emet_sulk]

[ He laughs - weakly this time - already in too much anguish to resist being rolled on to his side and so on. ]

I've...experienced...worse.

[ As much as he resolves not to cry out, it's almost certain he will. If not from the pain then at least the relief of the miasma leaving his body. ]

cw: spiritual puke

[foxphorus]

Have you, now?

[ Even with the gravity of the situation, there's a hint of amusement at the fact Emet's choosing now of all times to posture. If that's how he copes, then so be it--it may be the difference in getting out of this unscathed.

Under his breath, barely audible, Seimei begins to chant. It's a steady, tongue-twisting thing that follows the pace his fingertips circle the third eye with, then draw a line down to the Adam's apple, lingering, circling. There's a vague feeling of something stirring in him at this but it's unclear exactly what as the process repeats against his chest, then at his stomach.

And it is suddenly very clear.

All the pain, the grief, that concentrated hate quickly pools right into his gut, and with all its bubbling and thrashing around it's doing in there it seems like it wants to take the route Seimei had drawn right back out of him. Fast. ]

cw: more of the spiritual puke

[emet_sulk]

[ A man like Emet-Selch has dignity he must cling to in moments like this. He's walked this far through sheer, fucking will alone but it's always that glimmer of hope which destroys men the fastest. So he grits his teeth and closes his eyes, focused on keeping it all down.

...Until it won't be kept any more.

His body convulses and he heaves. Everything he had taken within himself abruptly evacuates. All that concentrated pain and grief and hate leaves him violently through the only way it can. Emet-Selch can barely see the dark muck he's hurling up through the tears in his eyes. It feels endless.

But it isn't. Eventually there's nothing left to hurl up except the contents of his own stomach - which is blessedly mostly empty. ]

[foxphorus]

[ His chanting doesn't slow down or miss a beat, keeping pace until absolutely everything's back up, seeping into the ground beneath Emet to immediately stain. ]

Water.

[ He orders to the onlookers without turning to face them, though with his tone much calmer perhaps the worst of it all's passed. He'll give Emet a helpful push away from the stain he's just made so he isn't going to be marinating in it while already ink-stained fingers are retrieving the onmyoji's brush. ]

Normally I would say the residual pain from such a taint would last over a week.

[ A dip of the brush into the ink, and Seimei's drawing characters across the newly tainted ground. ]

Considering you could hold that much inside you for that long and still speak, however, I'm admittedly uncertain how long you will need to recover.

[emet_sulk]

[ Herculean though his effort was, it still has consequences. Emet-Selch won't be doing anything for the rest of the day - or the week, really, as Seimei estimates.

He can't even make himself sit up after the other man helpfully rolls him away from the black stain. Not even for the water the onlookers rush to fetch for him. Everything hurts. With the danger gone, every ache comes crashing down as if punishing him for his good deed.

This is why he hates doing good, he thinks to himself.

He opens his mouth to speak but this time only a rasp comes out. Sighing, he haltingly reaches for the nearest bit of Seimei he can touch - a wrist or whatever - and tries to transmit his words directly. It will feel like a strange resonance against his soul if it works. ]

I am no mere mortal but neither am I immune to the consequences of poor choices.

[foxphorus]

[ Thank goodness his brush hadn't been touching the ground when Emet's words reach him, because that's. New. Fascinating, but new. Not sure if he's meant to reciprocate somehow, so instead he'll just answer aloud. ]

So I see.

[ All the more reason to keep an eye on this man going forward, disinterested as he may seem until he's all done with his brushwork. Let's see, they had indeed met previously but did they ever properly introduce themselves...? He remembers something-- ]

Hades, was it?

[emet_sulk]

[ He manages to crack his eyelids open to stare at the other man. Eventually his exhausted, pain-addled brain remembers that he had gone by his real name during the memory wipe and sighs. ]

Yes, that is my name.

[ Seimei need not worry about trying to respond in kind. Emet-Selch would actually be shocked if they could. ]

Emet-Selch is my proper title however.

[foxphorus]

Emet-Selch, then.

[ He's well aware names can be a tricksy thing, so far be it from him to argue which one was right to use. ]

Have you dealt with something like this previously? You're taking it in much better stride than others I've treated thus far.

[emet_sulk]

[ He's silent for a little while but his eyes do flicker open again, indicating he hasn't simply fallen unconscious. It's tempting to do so though. There's a sense that he's growing distant and fatigued. ]

When we were trapped in the labyrinth, I saw iteration upon iteration of my star dying. No matter what actions I took to change the future, it all led to the same end. It wasn't until an-- old friend took the lead and showed me kindness that I found the future I sought...

[ His eyes slide shut. He's definitely starting to drift off now, exhaustion taking hold. But he leaves one final thought: ]

I will not give in to despair.