TDM #4

[calderaevents]

ARRIVAL

It happens in an instant. A heavy weight in your gut, a trembling of your limbs, the world spins and you barely have time to register that you're falling before you lose consciousness. And when you awaken, it's not where you were last. Dark, unadorned oak walls surround you in a tiny room, the only furniture the bed you are currently resting upon, and the bedside table with a folded piece of parchment resting atop it that simply reads:

“The Tavernkeeper is awaiting your arrival downstairs.”

As you exit you find others like yourself emerging from the surrounding rooms. You are indeed in a tavern, but there is no hustle and bustle one might think to hear in such a place. The only person down on the main floor is a humanoid figure wiping down the bar, who smiles when they see you. They're familiar, but not, and you can't quite place their face. For some reason, however, their presence is comforting and warm.

“Welcome, Visitor. I'm sure you have a lot of questions.”

And you most certainly do.

Due to popular demand, the starter tavern and the drinks provided are available to in game characters via a portal accessible only to those with a faction gem.

DRINK MENU

WINTER'S WHISPER A fragrant spiced tea that calms the nerves and inspires the drinker to share their hopes and dreams.

JINGLE BELL A crisp, bright drink...that makes jingling bell sounds as you walk. There are no bells, and yet you jingle.

S(LAY) RIDE This drink has an earthy, woody taste. Almost as woody as the tavern floor it forces you to lie down upon. You cannot get up unless someone else helps you.

MISTLETOE MEAD Made with honey from enchanted bee hives and a touch of mistletoe leaves. Time to find a smoochin' partner!

HOLLY JOLLY SPICE A bold and fiery blend of rum, cinnamon, and cloves with a secret twist—just a dash of enchanted holly berry syrup that makes your cheeks flush with warmth and your laughter contagious. One sip, and you're the life of the party, even if you're by yourself.

CANDY CANE CRUSH A festive burst of minty sweetness with a cool, refreshing sensation that tingles the tongue. The drinker’s mood subtly shifts the color of their surroundings, briefly changing the hues of objects or lights in the room to match their feelings.

GINGERBREAD MAN A thick drink that tastes exactly like a gingerbread cookie. However, candy and other delicious accents start appearing on you as if YOU were the cookie. Is that icing on your nose? Candied cherries in your hair? Gumdrop buttons? But on the bright side, free candy!

CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY

As the effects of your drink wear off, the Tavernkeeper speaks once more:

”It is time, my friends, for you to find your new homes.”

You are compelled to walk through the only door leading out of the tavern, finding yourself not outside, but in a deep black, seemingly endless room with five portals arranged in a circle. As the last of you leave and the door closes behind you, gone when you look back again and replaced with nothing but that black void, three of the portals illuminate:

The first portal is surrounded by an almost blinding light, prismatic rainbows shining brightly in the dewy air outside of the tavern. A soft breeze may gently caress you, pulling you toward it. The portal seems to lead to a city in the clouds, airships and winged beings of all sorts soaring through the skies. Of the little bits of visible land, much of it boasts giant waterfalls that look like clouds melting into the land below. The portal calls to those who crave independence and freedom; and especially to anyone that wishes to find the strong bond of a family not forged in blood.

The second portal is encircled by a fairy ring of spotted white capped mushrooms, the faint scent of damp stone and rich earth wafting from within the faint green glow. Peering inside, one can see a sprawling harbor city of gray hewn stone, a melting pot of humanoid beings going about their day, and beyond, rolling green farmland and cottages clustered in small villages. This portal is destined for those who crave stability and solid ground beneath their feet. A simple life, an adventurous one, and everything in between can be found within.

The last portal is adorned with shells and seaweed, the glow of blue around it catching on droplets cascading down the circular opening. Beyond it you see a city housed inside a massive bubble deep under the ocean, spiraling towers encrusted with coral, and a variety of different creatures mingling about the streets. Outside of that bubble, merfolk swim, a massive squid engulfs the view from the portal as it smoothly glides through the water, and schools of fish disperse as it passes. A sanctuary in the sea that calls to those with a hunger for knowledge and a desire to aid those in need. Or perhaps it is the mystery that beckons you - the lure of the unknown in the depths that bids you explore it.

---

Upon following the pull of the breeze through the first portal, you are thrust into the beauty of a lively city that goes by the name of Heaven's Bow. Much of this main city feels exactly as you would expect on a city below, but there are clouds surrounding every direction you look. The walls of buildings are made with light-colored limestone, and buildings are generally built up to heights made even more grandiose by their position in the sky.

The Skyfall Docks are the first thing you notice, boasting hundreds of airships sailing in and out across the clouds with shouts that accompany a typical port city. Just outside is a fantastic market with goods not only from the other regions of Caldera, but from what some shopkeepers claim are other worlds--items sold or left behind by Visitors. Almost anything can be found in the markets if one is willing to look hard enough. Transport to other locations throughout the sky and even to the land or sea can be found here.

If the docks are too lively for you, you may instead find yourself roaming the underbelly of Heaven's Bow and finding brothels and gambling parlors filled with the promise of pleasure and fortune. The guild house for the Sylphs can be found here as well, giving out quests and training to prospective adventurers and guards alike--though none of them seem concerned with the illicit activities that surround them. Perhaps the freedom the Sylphs boast of extends to what others may deem an undesirable activity.

But most curious of all, you find a shimmering opal gemstone in your hand. When placed anywhere on the body, it will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If it was the second portal that called to you, you will find yourself in the busy city of Grey Ward, with its cobblestone streets and sturdy grey stone buildings. You are in the heart of the city, the Glass Market, so named for the colorful stained glass windows of the surrounding buildings. The scent of cooking food and the sound of barkers fills the air; watchful guards keep an eye out for pickpockets and thieves, and citizens go about their day. From here, one can investigate the rest of the city: the Sundown Docks, where both sea and sky faring skips transport people and goods. The Soot Spire, home of inventors and engineers. The Hearthstill, the main residential area. The Downs, a smaller residential area for those with less means.

Outside the city walls, one can explore acres of farmlands to the east and west, or follow Terra’s Pass to the less settled areas, but take care. Past the Skyward Range, out in the smaller burrows and villages, the influence of the city guard diminishes quickly, and you’ll have to keep your wits about you. Bandits along the road are always a risk, and the wildlife are less controlled by regimented hunting.

In your hand is a gemstone, a brilliantly green emerald that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

If the last portal beckoned you through it, you find yourself within that bubble covered city beneath the sea, the city of Salt Spire. Your ears pop with the change in pressure, and the smell of the salty sea fills your nostrils. All around you buildings made of dark stone encrusted with coral and seagrass tower high above your head, the backdrop outside the dome a deep blue, seemingly endless sea filled with fish and merfolk and all other manner of creature swimming through the water. You stand in the heart of it all, surrounded by people with gils on their necks and scales upon their vibrantly colored skin, all of whom seem intrigued by your arrival. You have many options of where to visit in the city under the sea, but where oh where will you go first?

The Salt Spire Library is right before you, an impossibly large building housing thousands upon thousands of books of all genres. Fiction, non-fiction, romance and mystery and all between. You may even find books from your world and others! Oddly enough though, no Calderan history books are to be found, and if you ask for them, the librarians and locals all choose to ignore your questions.

If scholarly pursuits aren't to your interest currently, perhaps a trip to Bluetide Market would be more your style? The marketplace is host to every manner of shop one might ever need: artisans of all varieties, apothecaries and healers in the Shimmer Quarter, the most in fashion undersea clothing shops, food stalls, and all between can be found in Bluetide. There are also the Tideshore and Fogbottom docks on either end of the city. The former allows transport to the surface via large, magical bubbles for those that cannot hold their breath or make the swim themselves yet. The latter allows people to venture further into the sea. Those without their underwater abilities are offered rebreathers for travel that last for four hours before needing to be replaced.

In your hand is a gemstone, a shining sapphire that, when placed anywhere on the body, will transform into a piece of jewelry with the gemstone set in the center.

---

Visitors in all starter cities are offered a standard home with basic necessities provided (your choice in design, etc.) that can house 1-4 people if they so choose. Home upgrades can be purchased via rewards.

FANNING THE FLAMES

The renewed seething of the lava flows brought on by the tempestuous events deep below the sea seem to have been dealt with, though city guards have been stationed around the crater and are barring anyone from approaching to investigate any further than the outskirts. Interestingly, not only does the crater seem calm, it appears to be changing. Any remaining lava flow is being directed as if by unseen hands, and when the light catches just right, the barest hint of a shimmer can be detected surrounding the glowing rivers. New rock formations take shape as the days pass, though one never can catch the presence of a mason working on the structures. It's as if something intangible or invisible is repairing what was broken, turning what was previously chaos and ruin into order and life.

SEASON OF LIGHT

The world remains unsettled, still bearing the scars of the trials endured just a month prior, not to mention the oddities happening with the volcanic crater and the ominous shadows creeping in from the sea continue to haunt the collective psyche, leaving both locals and visitors on constant edge, fearful of a sudden, unprovoked assault. Despite these lingering anxieties, the leaders have publicly reassured all that calm has been restored. They claim that the worst is behind them and that every measure is being taken to prevent such devastating magics from ever threatening Salt Spire again. The protective bubble holds, new Undine are being ushered into their roles, and the world, it is said, is slowly healing. Or so they claim.

Whether or not the assurances of the leaders ring entirely true, life, as it often does, presses on. The people of Caldera have once again immersed themselves in the comforting bustle of distraction, turning their attention to the imminent Season of Lights celebrations. This holiday, it seems, bears a striking resemblance to the festive cheer of Christmas (and a mix of new years), with gifts exchanged in abundance and decorations of shimmering silver and radiant blue casting their glow across the sky, sea, and land in harmonious splendor.

One of the seasons's highlights is the grand Feast of the Sky, a night when the people gather beneath a star-filled canopy to exchange gifts—ornate trinkets, hand-crafted items, and tokens of affection that carry deep personal meaning. In the days leading up to the feast, a tradition of "Lightwalking" emerges, where families and friends embark on midnight strolls through streets aglow with lanterns, singing carols and sharing stories of hope and renewal. Sea-going vessels, too, partake in the festivities, their sails and riggings festooned with glowing orbs that drift like stars across the waters.

The Season of Lights is, above all, a celebration of resilience, a time when the people of Caldera set aside their worries, if only for a little while, to bask in the glow of community, generosity, and the promise of brighter days ahead thanks to the Visitor's arrival...

THE GRAND MASQUERADE

Another highlight of the season is the Grand Masquerade that unfolds high above the world in Heaven’s Bow, the floating city where the wind dances in the sky and the stars seem close enough to touch. The event is more than just a celebration of the Season of Lights—it’s a gathering of hope, a last-ditch effort to save Caldera from its slow unraveling. Here, among the clouds and the wind, the people of Caldera and the mysterious Visitors from other worlds come together in a shimmering, ethereal celebration, their faces hidden behind elaborate masks and appropriately fancy dress provided when one steps through the threshold of the castle gates.

The palace at the heart of Heaven’s Bow is a breathtaking sight, its walls adorned with silver and blue decorations that catch the light from thousands of lanterns floating in mid-air. The atmosphere is both jubilant and tense, a world on the brink of collapse holding its breath in the hopes that this fleeting night will offer a glimmer of salvation. The sky above is painted with the colors of dusk and dawn, swirling in a palette of purples, blues, and silvers.

Sylphs—the free-spirited, airborn people of the Sky—flutter about, their wings glinting in the light, performing acrobatic feats in the air, their laughter and music mingling with the sounds of the celebration. Guests, their masks intricate and stunning, move among the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and stories, some joining in the dances while others linger near the grand tables, laden with food and drink from every corner of Caldera and beyond.

As the night unfolds, the guests find themselves drawn into different corners of the event—each space offering the Visitors a chance to prove themselves worthy of the leaders’ favor. There is no shortage of opportunities to learn, grow, and, perhaps, change the course of this dying world.

THE SKY'S ASCENSION

At one end of the palace's terrace, a floating platform hovers above the clouds, surrounded by shifting air currents. Sylphs glide effortlessly through the space, their wings leaving trails of light as they move to the lively music, which seems written by the wind itself.

Aella, Admiral of the Slyph, stands at the center of the platform, her cloak of shimmering feathers rippling in the breeze. She surveys the crowd, inviting those brave enough to take part in her challenge. Before them, a maze of floating platforms stretches out, some wide and stable, others narrow and swaying in the wind. The task is simple: leap from one platform to the next, navigating the shifting air and ever-changing obstacles.

The platforms move unpredictably, some rising higher, others sinking, and a few disappearing entirely. Guests must time their jumps perfectly, balancing agility with timing as they avoid falling into the clouds below.

Those who succeed will earn Aella’s favor (in the form of 100 Bones and a single white feather). And those who falter will simply reappear the start of the challenge to begin anew or give up with no repercussions for the latter save perhaps a bit of embarrassment.

THE SEA'S SECRETS

On the other side of the terrace, a serene water garden unfolds, its shimmering pools reflecting the stars above. Water flows in delicate, endless cascades, filling the air with a soft, soothing melody that mingles with the distant sound of waves. The Undines, graceful and serene beings of the Sea, glide effortlessly through the space, their robes flowing like gentle currents, their movements as fluid as the water itself.

Cordelia, Queen of the Sea, stands quietly on a raised platform at the edge of the garden, her presence calm and powerful. Her eyes, deep and unfathomable, seem to reflect the vastness of the ocean, and though she watches the guests, she does not engage with them. Her stillness holds an air of mystery, as if she is both present and yet unreachable.

The Undines move silently through the garden, offering peaceful company to those who wander nearby. The garden is a place of contemplation, where guests can simply pause and connect with the tranquil beauty of the water—its soothing flow, its quiet depths, and its promise of renewal. There are no tests or challenges here, only the peace of the Sea to calm the mind and soul.

Those who linger may feel the weight of ancient knowledge in the air, a silent understanding of the oceans' mysteries and the healing power of water. In this place, the answers are not spoken, but felt—a quiet reminder that some of the world’s deepest truths are best discovered in moments of stillness.

As the evening fades, those who have found solace in the garden’s stillness will discover, tucked gently in their palm, a lustrous pearl. Unlike any found on the shores, this pearl is soft and warm, its surface shimmering with an inner light. It is a symbol of the wisdom that comes from quiet reflection—the knowledge that some things, like the depth of the sea, cannot be rushed.

THE LAND'S EMBRACE

In the heart of the palace gardens, beneath a canopy of flowering trees, the Dryads drift gracefully among the guests, their earthy skin glowing with life and their eyes bright with the vitality of nature. The air is thick with the scent of blooming roses and jasmine, while the ground beneath the guests' feet pulses with a quiet energy, inviting them to pause and feel the garden’s magic.

Terra, the Lady of the Land, stands at the center, her form adorned in living vines and blossoms, moving as if the garden itself flows through her. Her presence is both nurturing and fierce, a silent invitation to those seeking connection—to the land, to love, and to one another.

Guests are drawn to the tranquil beauty of the garden, stealing soft moments with their partners among the flowers. Lovers exchange quiet glances, touch petals with gentle fingers, and share unspoken promises beneath the soft glow of lanterns. The garden hums with romance, as if the earth itself is blessing these tender moments, offering the quiet assurance that love—like the land—can grow in the most unexpected places.

As the night draws to a close, Terra’s gentle power is felt in the air, and for those who have taken the time to connect with the garden’s beauty, a soft gift of nature is bestowed. A flower—unique and radiant—appears in their hand, a token of love and growth, a reminder that even the briefest moments can take root and blossom into something everlasting.

QUESTBOARD [NEW QUESTS ADDED]

Settled in? Good. It's time to make your way to the Questboard located in every city in numerous, easy to access locations. That is, if you want to make any kind of impact on the world or just get some Bones for anything you might wish to purchase. Visitors are given a very small stipend in which to survive every month, but all it does is keep you fed and housed. These quests will assure you greater wealth, and they're the main reason you're here: each finished quest helps the Calderans fix their shattering world.

Quests can be accepted at the questboard via magically signed parchment upon the board. Just sign your name to accept and the paper will be whisked away... somewhere. You're not actually sure. Probably nothing to concern yourself with.

Once quests are completed, earned Bones will be dropped off at the character's residence by Bonita, the mysterious artisan who has supposedly handcrafted every Bone circulating in Caldera. Please do not speak to her, she startles easily.

OOC NOTES

Welcome to Caldera's fourth TDM! All characters awaken in a strange tavern with nothing save the clothes on their backs, all of their powers stripped, and a piece of parchment directing them downstairs to the Tavernkeeper. There is a thread of all questions answered by the Tavernkeeper here, and if you have more, feel free to ask there for what would be offered ICly.

For OOC questions, please direct themhere.

All locations are available to be explored!

The TDM is game canon and all completed quests can be carried over once accepted into the game.

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Comments

Gadriel | Warhammer 40K |idiot space marine | undecided

[thecodexabides]

ARRIVAL[Chaos. It must have been Chaos, somehow seizing him and pulling him through the Warp. He felt...unsettled, still. The taint of corruption was probably everywhere.

He was a prisoner, that much was clear--his weapons gone, his power armor at only minimal charge ((mods I did that so he could at least move lol)). Someone wanted him weak.

He was not weak. He knew he would be facing a daemon when he went downstairs, but he went, as soon as he found and deciphered the note. Gadriel was never one to back down from a fight.

He scowled around the room, looking for what Chairon would call the hallmarks of Chaos--their malign glyphs, the sickening stench of the Warp. He could find nothing, except strangers, who seemed to pay him no mind. Yet. ]

I want none of your poison, heretic.

SKY'S ASCENSION
[Eldar, Gadriel thought, seeing the creatures wisping through the air. There were stories of Astartes fighting alongside the Eldar in the Archives, against Orks, against Necrons. While they were not allies, they were not...entirely...foes. The woman in charge, in the robe of feathers, looked like how he imagined Eldar nobility to dress.

Impractical. Fanciful. But they were fierce warriors when they chose to be.

The challenge? Not a challenge at all for Gadriel, despite the low charge of his power armor. He'd had ten thousand years of psycho indoctrination and honing of his Primaris abilities. Simple agility was easy. ]

Was this supposed to be difficult, my lady? [He calls back, over his shoulder. Ultramarines did not have 'fun' but this was as close as he'd ever come. ]

SEASON OF LIGHT
[He could smell combat here--the smell of scorched metal and burned wood, and beneath it, despite all efforts, the rank stench of spilled blood. It was the opposite of unsettling to him. It was home. It was familiar. It was a hundred thousand battlefields he'd trod.

[Gadriel patrolled around the edges of the district, more familiar to him than the lights and the merriment within, almost hoping trouble would decide to find him. And make a terrible mistake in doing so.]

SKY'S ASCENSION

[lettersfrombel]

Bel has been throwing himself against the course himself, but he is going to take an interest in someone doing particularly well. Even if the comment was meant for Aella, he's going to speak up. "Well done. A high bar for the rest of us."

Arrival

[holdshisown]

Wise choice. [Maedhros comments, nodding his head in approval of the mans prudence. Even if his manners could do with some improvement.] It's not good too be too trusting when one has been plucked from their own world the way we've all been here.

I can assure you, however, that we're all in the same boat here. Abducted from our own realities and with no discernable way home again.

The Warden (Elissa Cousland) | Dragon Age: Origins | Undine

[griffonenvy]

Arrival

"According to tradition," Elissa noted dryly to the charming tavern keeper as she put the first drink of the evening to her lips, "the trouble starts the moment I settle in. Let's see if old habits stay in new lands, hm?"

Granted, one would think trouble may be a little more wary given she is wearing full dragon scale plate armor, but that had never really been the Warden's experience before. She raised her Slay Ride in a mock toast to the keeper. Maybe someone stops her before she swallows - or at least tries to and arrives a moment too late. Or she take a large sip and finds herself laying peacefully on her back on the ground a moment layer, hands neatly wrapped around the cup and resting on her stomach.

"All right. That's new. This is a new one."


Portal Picking

Elissa stands before the central portal for a long, long moment, eyes wistful to the point of sadness. A song very much unlike the Calling whispers to her as she views it- but she answers it the same way. Not today.

Instead she turns to the third portal, the now familiar call of defending, of mysteries to solve, of duty washing over her.

Perhaps she'll have peace another day.


Salt Spire: Library

And the first thing there is a library. Elissa can't help the small snort of amusement- how many times had Sten lectured her on stopping in the middle of an important mission to flip through some random novel or history they'd found decaying with the dead or carelessly left on some Inn's table? She can't help herself, ducking in to try to find a book or pamphlet or even a helpful fellow reader to pester to tell her about this land and its troubles.

A bit later and an unsuccessful Warden shakes her head as she sighs over an all too familiar book she managed to find rather than anything useful.

"The History of the Chantry: Chapter 1. Again. I swear these things breed..."


Salt Spire: Market

"A sword- I need a sword- yes, I see the tridents are more useful, and the spears, but-"

It was hard not to say 'I spent 20 years learning the sword and shield, I don't want to pick up something else' without sounding a bit whiny, and her mother really had raised her better. Instead she took a breath then held up her hands in a gesture of peace.

"Wait- do you even take gold?"


Season of Light

Elissa doesn't join in on the festivities, she's still far too new to have her sea legs under her that firmly just yet. But that doesn't stop her from watching. She wanders the streets at night, or sits in a tavern or the steps of some building or another, potentially blocking the way from time to time, just to smile faintly at the singing and carrying on happening around her. The signs of a world worth living in.

Forgive her if she gets a little caught up in listening one night and stumbles into you. Blame it on the holiday cheer.

Masquerade
Elissa can't help but smile at the outfit she'd ended up in. She was as Ferelden as the land itself, her bloodline stretching back to its very foundations. Yet it was clear the company she'd kept this last Blight and beyond had left its mark: deep blue jeweled shoes paired with neatly cut pants, cape, and coat of black and deep blues with griffons embordered about them, then topped with a feathered and silver raven mask- no crow mask, more appropriately. Zev would crack a rib in laughter. As it was she looks down at herself, gives a small spin to let the cape flutter around her, and laughs on her own.

"Suppose they ran out of dog masks."

Sea's Secret Challenge
Given she has found a temporary home among the sea people, Elissa gives it her best. She does. Honestly. She is a warrior of strength and renown, surely she can do this for the sovereign of her new land.

She admitted defeat some ten minutes in. She may have learned a Templar trick or two from Alistair, but keeping inner peace while watching a candle melt was never going to be among her talents. She ties not to make any direct eye contact as she creeps out of the peaceful zone following her minutes of fidgeting and fussing.

Tragically, stealth was not one her more finely honed skills. There would be no unnoticed retreat from this failure and she accidentally stepped directly into the water with a splash, then had to noisily tug her now soaked leg and shoe out before resuming her walk of shame.

THE SKY'S ASCENSION
Now this she could do. More a creature of strength and sheer will than dexterity, Elissa is still fully at home leaping through the air in endless competition with those around her, trying to get further, faster, even if she falls again and again. Failure isn't the enemy, after all. Lack of trying was what would kill a people in the end.

She grins to the person beside her as she readies herself for yet another go.

"Care to make it interesting?"


Random Roll
Pick any scenario or quest board and Elissa will be there! Feel free to him me up in PMs to plan if you would like.

Masquerade

[thesunreturns]

"Dog mask?"

Simon's costume doesn't seem to be anything distinct -- white and gold, which makes his fox-red hair stand out.

[thecodexabides]

Gadriel had been lurking in the corner--as much as anyone his size can actually succesfully lurk. He needed intel before he made a move out of this place. All he knew so far from his observations is that he was absolutely and in no uncertain terms, not going to touch any of those drinks.

But when the newcomer collapsed to the floor, as though swatted down by an annoyed hand.
He leapt out of the corner, snatching up one of the chairs and striking it against his leg till he was left with a sharp shard of would. They could try to disarm an Ultramarine. Try.

He straddled her body, swinging his ersatz weapon. "Show yourself!" Whatever is slapping people down around here was going to meet its match.

Nicollette Abernethy || Original || Undine

[gulfcoastkelpie]

Arrival - Drinks

[Nikki stretched out as she looked around. This wasn't her ranch in South Texas. She frowned a bit as she looked around. This wasn't right. She reached up to the delicate silver chain made of small flowers around her neck. It was still there. She didn't have much else with her, just the clothes she had on when she was back home.

She looked around as she stepped into the tavern. It was actually kind of cozy. She made her way up to the bar and ordered a drink as she asked her questions. She got the basic answers and sighed. It wasn't much help, but it was something. She sipped on her drink, something called a Jingle Bell, as she moved to a different table.

She stopped after a couple of steps.]

The hell?

[She was jingling. But she didn't have any bells on. Sure, she had worn some before for some local holiday festivals, but she didn't have anything on tonight.]

That's weird...


Season of Lights

[Nikki almost wished that she knew some more people here. She didn't have anyone to really share gifts with. She had only been here a few days and was still meeting people. However, all of the decorative lanterns at night were so pretty. She could spent hours carefully wandering around and watching the lights and lanterns.

She spent most of her time at the docks, watching the lights around the ships bob and weave around like living stars in the sky. It was fascinating to her.]

It's so pretty...

Grand Masquerade

[Big parties weren't something that Nikki really liked, but she figured that she would go. Every little girl once had dreams of being a princess right? She stepped inside and looked down at the dress she had on. She let out a low whistle. She loved it. She also had a nice butterfly mask to go with the floral pattern of her dress.]

I guess fairytale dreams can kinda come true...

[She was actually in a bit of disbelief as she rotated her hips a bit, making her skirt swish around.]

Season of Lights

[thesunreturns]

The reflections off the sea really add to the effect.

[Simon is also watching the waters.]

Arrival

[coldsong]

If he were aware of her hidden nature, Loki would immediately make a joke about Nikki being the embodiment of a one=horse open sleigh, so the jingle bells are fitting. He's not, though, so she's spared that indignity. Instead, he glances up from where he's sitting sipping a Candy Cane Crush, in a corner that's taken on a pleasant mint-green tinge, which is interesting in contrast to his deep blue skin and red eyes.

"The drinks always do something strange," he tells her with a smile and a shrug. "It's best to observe a few people before you choose one. I recommend against the s(lay) ride, but the rest seem harmless enough."

"The good news is, you have your own musical accompaniment for a bit!"

Solas | Dragon Age | Undine

[goethbeforethefall]

i. arrival
The bar is a raucous and chaotic place. It's choked with new arrivals and old patrons, the latter in search of a drink and the former of answers, often from each other. Solas, dressed in resplendent Elvhen armor, is far from the oddest-man-out of this motly collection. He is, however, not a particularly subtle sight, with wrought-silverite ivy feathered across his chestplate, and golden aurum chasing the edge of his leathers. Very well, admit it; it is very nice armor.

Or, it had been, before this place had stripped it of every enchantment and effect woven into its making, and carefully preserved against the effects of millenia. Now it was merely pretty. And heavy.

For now he simply waits, a drink in hand that he did not pay for, and does not intend to sip. He simply swirls it from time to time, or lifts it to his mouth as if to drink— watching. Listening. He sees you, too... or maybe you're smart enough to come at him from a blind angle. But no matter what, he does stand out...

ii. season of light
It is difficult to grasp his situation with equinamity, and so he is compelled to pace. The streets are lined with light, and on the lips of every gossip are questions; even here, people are no different than ever, and those in authority call reassurances from on high, whilst the private wounds of suspicion fester.

Ah, civilization.

Perhaps you spot him walking, oddly barefoot in the snow. Perhaps you see him paused at a crossroads of two streets, considering the sky with solemn dissatisfaction, as if the stars have offended him somehow. Perhaps even, he sees you first— and what are you doing, to create such a fuss with that food vendor? Leave that poor man alone.

iii. wildcard
choose your own adventure, I'm ready for anything!

season of light

[lettersfrombel]

Look, that food vendor knows what he did, or rather what he didn't do. "I'm telling you, there is supposed to be meat in this, not just a lot of fried breading. If I'd known, I would have just bought the fried dough."

Unlike his observer, Bel is dressed for winter, including a hat keeping his ears warm (albeit less visible), and boots. Seasons are definitely a mixed bag for him, but less than a decade living in places that have them mean they are still novel.

He will probably notice that he's being watched, but not until he gets either his money back, or a replacement skewer of whatever he's eating.

Arrival

[lost_and_foundry]

If someone shrank the new Visitor to approximately 25% of his current size, flipped his coloring like a film negative, added a few lines, and completely changed his clothes, they would get the stranger perched on a bar stool across the way. Which is a roundabout way of saying they're both bald and have pointy ears and sharpish features. The small, darker man--a gnome, in point of fact--does not appear to be paying the least bit of attention to his surroundings. This tavern being open to established residents is a relatively new development, and he was looking for a place to make some notes and sketches where he wouldn't get caught by his friends. Mission accomplished.

He doesn't appear to be paying attention to his surroundings, but after about half an hour, during which the cup of tea by his elbow stops steaming and goes cold, he speaks up, glancing at the elven stranger in his peripheral vision:

"No one's going to make you drink it, you know, but the effects are always temporary, for whatever that's worth."

Arrival

[holdshisown]

Whyever would he try to startle someone by comming at them from a blind angle? As far as he's concerned they are all in this together and should treat eachother with care. So he makes it quite obvious when he approaches the other elf.

"Well met, kinsman." He greets him with a small bow of his head. "And my sincerest sympathies for having been plucked out of your own world the same as the rest of us here. I hope it has not been too much of a shock for you..."

ii

[arlathvhen]

His silhouette against the street lamps is striking, would be striking for anyone, Beleth thinks--not just for someone who had been haunted by that figure, barely visible and always out of reach. Until he was within reach again. But then--

She hadn't been sure if he had come, as well. Or if this had been some elaborate plot... Should she feel guilty for the suspicion? Well, it hardly mattered now.

The tickling sensation of nerves ran up her spine, unwanted but unavoidable. No--she'd chased him across all of Thedas, caught her quarry, only to lose him right at the moment of reunion. And here he was, again. She straightens, and steps heavier, lets him hear her approach. Waits until either he turns, or she rests a dozen or so feet away, waiting in turn. Then, she speaks a single word. She'll know, then, what has happened. What the situation is. If she's back on the chase.

"...Vhenan?"

The Medicine Seller/Kon | Mononoke Film Trilogy | Undecided

[kusuriuris]

i - Arrival

The Medicine Seller sits at the bar, drumming his fingers against the wood without any real rhythm. His present situation is rather...disorienting to say the least. He's no stranger to sudden summonings, but this 'Caldera' doesn't exist on any map he knows of, nor in the Shuuga.

A hand drifts down to his side, only to feel nothing. Right, the other disorienting aspect to all of this; his medicine box and its contents are gone. The Tavernkeeper said the Medicine Seller could get it all back if he 'put forth the effort' during their discussion.

And it's not that he's unwilling to help, far from it. Something about Caldera - be it the place itself or how he was summoned here -, has interrupted his connection to the Sixty Four hexagrams. And more worryingly...

"Shingi..." His sword, both a weapon and a partner, is gone. Any attempts to call to the spirit within the sword are met with silence, as if his connection to it is severed. It's rare that the Medicine Seller is so alone and it's more than a little unnerving.

He sighs, looking around. Perhaps a change of scenery might help make him feel better...

ii - Season of Light

Under the lights, in his colorful and exotic clothes, the Medicine Seller certainly sticks out. But the look of wonder in his eyes, is shared with others in the crowd as he holds out a pale hand to catch falling snowflakes.

He's completely unfamiliar with this celebration, but he's no stranger to the feeling in the air. The warmth of cheer and hope in the face of the chill and gloom of winter. Perhaps the lights everywhere are both a literal and symbolic way to drive back the dark.

The Medicine Seller holds out an arm, turning on his heel only to loose his balance and fall in the snow. He hisses lightly, rubbing at his backside. Right, his medicine box is gone. So used to needing to adjust for its weight, its absence has him quite literally off balance.

Sensing someone nearby, he looks up.

"I'm fine, just tripped is all. Ice and all."

ii

[hellrider]

"Oh! Careful, it's slippery out!" The person who responds to his fall is equally unique in appearance, though perhaps in the opposite way. One of only two tieflings around, Zevlor stands out with the jagged back-curved black horns, the deep ruddy skin, luminous eyes and spade-tipped tail. He looks nothing but sincere, though, crouching to offer a hand up.

At the moment, he's in a light wool coat rather than his full splint armor, it being a festive occasion, so at least he doesn't look like a city guard coming to investigate a disturbance.

"It's nice though, isn't it? Not the first snow of the year, but the deepest so far."

Inquisitor Beleth Lavellan | Dragon Age | Dryad

[arlathvhen]

i. arrival.

Beleth sits on the tavern stool, expression guarded, but it's not hard to decipher that she is not particularly amused by her current situation. Part of this apprehension might be due to the drink in her hand, and the way that every time her head turns to look around, a jingling fills the air, like she's wearing little bells in her hair.

She isn't, for the record.

Still, she doesn't seem irritated enough to stop drinking, or stop moving, for that matter. After every few sips, she breaks her contemplative silence to gaze over the crowd at the tavern, eyes sliding over the faces. She doesn't seem to find whatever it is she's looking for, though, as she turns back away (jingling the entire time). The only other notable thing about the quiet woman is that she seems aware of every movement near her, turning her eyes away from whatever they're looking for to watch anyone near her, though her head never quite fully turns towards them, watching from the corner of her eye.

But maybe she just doesn't want to hear more jingling.

ii. the quest board

Quests are something that Beleth is quite used to, to say the least. Every other person in southern Thedas had something they wanted or needed, and who else to do it but the Inquisitor? And they're paying for it, which is nice. None of this just keeping whatever she happens to find on any dead bodies. There's a lengthy laundry list of requests she's already writing in her head (her bow, she misses her incredibly cool enchanted bow), and this is the way to acquire them.

Still, there's a frown on her face as she looks some of them over. Some of these quests are quite different than her previous experience. Where is the demonic sheep that needs herding? Playing connect the dots with astrology? Not a single druffalo to escort.

Despite the frown, she does seem calmer, more relaxed than she had at the tavern. There's a spirit in her movement, a pep in her step, so to speak. The frown smooths as she plucks a flyer about mushrooms up. Pick some mushrooms, don't eat them. Easy enough.

iii. the land's embrace

The garden is beautiful, as most are. Skyhold had its own garden, but much of the world outside of it had been stripped of its greenery. The blight stole it away, leaving only grim, brutal desolation. Even with matters settled, it would take years to regrow. To rebuild.

A pity she wouldn't see it.

But there is growth here, life and beauty. She soaks it in, walking past the flowers, occasionally stopping to closely examine them. So many kinds, some she recognizes, and some she does not. Hopefully, there will be some herbs that she can find particular use in. Elfroot or spindleweed would be a comfort--or witherstalk. That draws a smirk on her face, as she glances curiously at a particular flower...embrium, maybe?

She plucks a petal, tears it in half and takes a cautious sniff. It would probably be foolish to try eating it. Although...

i. Arrival this will either go swimmingly or...the opposite of that.

[thecodexabides]

The longer Gadriel sits in the tavern watching others drink, the happier he is (which is pretty relative since he's not really...good at happy) that he did not fall for the Chaos-tainted drinks.

It's probably impossible to not notice him watching, since he's quite large and in bright blue body armor and also isn't trying to hide the fact that he's watching. It's clear that he's waiting for something to happen.

connor | detroit: become human + crau | undine

[deviare]

1) arrival; jingle bells | candy cane crush

If there is a single thing about Connor that will forever be consistent, no matter what strange alternate reality he may find himself in: he will always, indiscriminately, put things in his mouth. Hence why he was both jingling faintly with every movement, and surrounded by inexplicably yellow objects and soft yellow light, an outward expression of his puzzled mood that his calm and collected face had not yet betrayed. He wasn't sure how he felt about that, to be quite honest; his fingers kept drifting up to his temple, where there was no circular LED light, but merely warm skin and a lock of curly hair.

"Excuse me," he said conversationally to someone near him at the tavern bar. "Have you also experienced any strange effects after drinking one of the beverages?"

2) the sea's secrets

Everything about this reminded Connor of his mind palace, the Zen Garden; the programming where he met with his handler, Amanda. Surprisingly, given how traumatically that experience had ended, it wasn't unpleasant; perhaps that was a fine example of human growth and healing, or perhaps there was something in the air, be it physical or metaphyiscal. Whatever the reason, Connor felt at peace, and the longer he sat in quiet contemplation, the more convinced he became that there was something in the air, surrounding them like a blanket. "It's beautiful, isn't it," he remarked very quietly to another enjoying the garden, leaning down to skim his fingers very softly across the cool surface of the water. "And there's a feeling...I'm not sure how to describe it. Perhaps it's what human beings would call, spiritual?"

3) for night sky | a boy and his dog

As much as Connor enjoyed the undersea bubble, his curiosity compelled him to explore the rest of the caldera. His first stop, sensically, being the Dryad territories. Already this particularly brand of gilded cage seemed much larger and less controlled than Ainmhian and Castle Saoirse, the cities sprawling, the horizon less obscured by tangled wood. Still, he was curious how far he could go towards that horizon, and would have likely set out on that foolish journey; if not for a series of bright, happy barks that had his head turning when he'd barely left the edges of civilization.

Dogs would always draw his immediate attention. He liked dogs! He followed the sound of the barks, and laughed in joyous disbelief as a familiar black and white ball of fur came streaking towards him.

"Hank!" Laughing, Connor knelt down and was immediately bowled over by the enthusiastic Border Collie, his face immediately covered in a cold wet nose and a slobbery tongue. "I'm happy to see you too boy--what are you doing here?"

[wildwarden]

Yeah, what was he doing here? He had been, for about ten seconds, bodying Night Sky when he first popped into her camp alongside his brother, Bear Heart, but had taken off like a shot after hearing some sound in the woods. It wasn't like him to do that, especially since he had just gotten here! Night Sky was hot on the dog's heels, the bear dog on her's.

"Hank!" and it must have been shouted at the exact time Connor said it to meld together perfectly that she didn't notice at first. Then, she heard a voice — a very familiar voice, and moved a little quicker, breaking through the foliage to find Hank and—

"Connor...?" Bear Heart was running toward him now, but Night Sky was stock still, her eyes wide in disbelief. When was the last time she had seen him? Years ago. So many years ago. She had been convinced, until this very moment, she would not see him again unless she somehow managed to start hopping worlds on her own.

Markus | Detroit: Become Human | Dryad(?)

[singon]

Arrival:

Waking up in some strange place is bad enough, especially when you don't remember laying down in the first place. Add to that the idea that Markus is possibly alone without his people? Yeah...there might be a mild panic that he's keeping mostly to himself as he heads down the stairs of the tavern. Rhythmic and fast down the steps, around the corner and--this place looks like one of those video games he'd seen ads for.

What the hell.

Hello fellow new arrivals of Caldera...here is +1 very confused Robo-Revolutionary.

----

Season of Lights:

It's baffling how calm and quiet it is in Caldera compared to where Markus had been not hours before, but he can't exactly complain. It's nice, it's freeing, being able to just walk down the street and 'breath' the crisp winter air. The lights lining the streets remind Markus of Christmas, hanging lights around the house, doing some decorating for Carl to help lift the mans spirits even a little.

It's telling for Markus because last he remembered it was only November, Christmas was still over a month away...but then this world is different and whatever celebration this is seems to be only similar to the one he is familiar with. Still the lights are beautiful and it's easy for Markus to get lost in it all.

So lost that he misses seeing someone as he bumps into them. "Oh, sorry. Are you okay?"

----

Grand Masquerade!:

Sure, Markus had been to a few fancy parties in his time being activated but nothing to this extent. Usually functions that mimicked things like this Carl refused to attend. Said they were too uppity or something. Stepping through and watching as his own clothes transformed Marcus has to step to the side and stop.

"I feel like I'm going to rip something if I move...." His words are just a touch louder than he means to, masked face snapping up to look around.

----

Land's Embrace:

After a bit of mingling with people at the party, Markus is happy to find a quiet place to tuck away and just breath. The plants are beautiful and as he listens he finds the reason behind such a unnaturally beautiful garden.

Lovers.

Something he didn't have. Not that he didn't have someone that he loved dearly. It was just that they had been in the middle of a revolution...and now he was here. So far from home in an unfamiliar place that was completely different. Instead of letting himself linger on it however, Markus decides to find a grassy area to just sit and relax in. Closing his eyes and just basking in...nature.

Grand Masquerade

[lettersfrombel]

That was a look. At a masquerade, it's at least in the 'someone wanted the wearer to be regal as hell'. But it also probably means it is cut for dancing, despite the appearances.

"Have you tried?" Bel asked. "It looks like you have layers to spare, just in case."

Altan Hawke | Dragon Age 2 | Sylph

[altanhawke]

Arrival:

Altan (Al, to his friends, and despite some unexpected twists and turns in the future that he is currently diverging from, he’s not so noble as to rub elbows with the newly-coronated king of the same nickname) knew - knew - that that rotten bloody treasure map Athenril had nicked was bad news. The problem, though - well, one of the problems - with living in Kirkwall, the White City of Chains, was that all news being bad news, one got inured, one got cocky.

He’d been wedging himself down yet another broken mineshaft in the hopes of fetching up some old crockery (crock of shit, he’d planned to say, to preen at his fellow roughs, although he does get a thrill - romantic or just learn’ed - from the age of the old Tevene corpse that is the city) when -.

Well, he’s not sure. He’s open to the idea that he may have died. If so, it’s been a pleasant enough afterlife so far. The worse theory is that he’s finally been nabbed by the Templars and this is his years-too-late Harrowing. He’s told himself that he’ll just not let anything foreign into his body (with an inward chuckle; he does make himself laugh, or he has to be able to make himself laugh, sometimes it’s that or screaming) and he’ll make it through fine. He does have to make it through. Mother and Carver need him. (He is not, in fact, so sure of the latter, but he needs to believe it).

He wanders downstairs to the tavernkeeper, ready to coyly badger what he assumes is a spirit with questions about what this place (which, according to his assumption that this is the Fade, is the same thing as the tavernkeeper itself) wants from him. Hi, yes, hello, nice place you’ve got here, could stand to have some dwarven plumbing installed in the room - oh, nice drinks, thank you, I don’t need them. So - oh, there’s three powerful spirits, sorry, entities, wanting me to help shore up their demesne? Well if it’s just my time you need and not my body - (as Hawke burbles on, reflexively leaning on innuendo) - that’s well enough. I’ll need to wake up eventually -.

Bystanders may see him summon a small, bright candleflame in the center of his palm and then press his other palm into it. He grimaces in bemusement that he’s burnt himself without waking himself up.

He goes through the first portal; he regards everything around him with a slightly supercilious bemusement, but as he’s not yet waking up, he might as well go through that which seems most intrinsically of interest. He will, quite probably, get himself quickly lost at the Skyfall Docks, finding them both welcoming and entrancing, quite possibly landing himself at the mouth of some more bracing adventure that is one of Caldera’s quests - but that’s a matter for another thread.

When fiddling with the opal that has somehow made its way to his hand (he probably assumes that he pickpocketed it without even noticing), it transforms into a heavy signet ring with the Amell house crest engraved into it. He frowns briefly at it, but accepts this development.

He’s far more thrown by the offer of a home. “I - I’m sorry, are you serious? This is a joke, right? Is it falling down with chokedamp?”

It’s the most comfortable he’s been in over a year. Pity that Mother and Carver can’t be there to appreciate the house the Fade has given him - but then, well, he reflects that he’s got no idea what’s happened to his body in the waking world. So perhaps he shouldn’t wish for that.

The Grand Masquerade:

This, he can do. Or, more accurately, this he will do, in a different world this he has done - and Caldera “remembers” for him the future Lord Champion Amell-Hawke, and dons him in the regalia that the future infamous maleficar could never wear in the City of Chains. The handsome young man is dressed in deep ox-blood red, with golden threads, his mantle a sweeping peacock feathered train of warm colors - the use of feathers perhaps a sly joke from Caldera that he doesn’t yet understand.

The Sky’s Ascension:

He, at least, knows already that this world operates somewhat on dream logic; that is what gives him the bravery to flash Aella - who he does not yet trust, but understands as his most current “boss” - his charming smile and boast that, of course, he can make his way across these floating platforms.

He cannot make his way across. He’s rattled, more rattled than he told himself he’d be going into this - but he attempts to brush this off, thanking Aella for the chance and implying that he will of course return and conquer this … later.

Wildcard:

Surprise me : 3 (pretty open to whatever - I’m Altan Hawke in the dedicated comm Discord, username longjohnfurby)

well hiiiiiiii Sky's Ascension

[thecodexabides]

Gadriel's got his own opal, and still isn't sure what it means, but it hasn't morphed into anything demonic. It rests between the heads of the Imperial aquila on his armor.

He nods (most likely down--Gadriel's nine feet tall without armor) at the other man. "Good attempt. Skill always follows courage. And many lack courage." Mortals risk far more injury than he does here, so he is honestly impressed by the bravery to even try.

Simon (PL600) | Detroit: Become Human | Dryad

[ourheartsarecompatible]

Arrival
Simon had been dazed and a little bit lost since he'd awoken not surrounded by his people, but all alone in a place that was so far removed from anything that he'd ever known that he was sure, he was so sure, that it had to be a mistake. That something had been overwritten in his programming to make him think that he was somewhere that wasn't Detroit anymore. It looked more like the brochures for the Renn Faires that came through every now and then, but...more. It was so deeply strange, he had no real choice but to just...go with it.

So he asked the only real question that was pertinent to him:

"What is happening?"

The answer, encapsulating the essence of why he'd been transposed here, doesn't necessarily sit right with him. This is the plot of a video game, not something that just happened...

He had taken a drink, just to be polite, but hasn't drunk it in spite of taking it with him. He will be sitting on a hewn stone bench nearby the portal out of the tavern, holding it in between his knees as he tries to suss out how he feels about all of this.

Destiny Chosen, Season of Lights
When he'd finally realized he had it, Simon had turned over the opalescent stone in his hand, recalling what he'd been told when he'd emerged: it would become a trinket that could be worn. His, he decides after some debate, would be a ring akin to a class ring, fit for his middle finger and unlikely to slide off.

That done, Simon had started toward the bulk of civilization and realized that everything looked...festive. It was around the time of the holidays back home, sure, but it was a little too early to break out the colorful lights and wreathes. He was aware that cultures besides Americans had their own holiday traditions, but this seemed just a little too close to what he remembered to be a coincidence.

Dressed in perhaps a little too thin of clothing to really fit in as a normal humanoid being around here, Simon walks slowly along the paths cleared in the snow by other passersby, with his attention up on the decorations and the distant sounds of singing. Here and there, he could hear people chattering about the upcoming feast and the gift exchange. Things that he would not be able to partake in. What was he to do, then?

The Grand Masquerade
Simon has not attended a party in several years, but he still has the etiquette in memory from those that he had gone to before he had gone deviant. This would be a good opportunity to network a little bit, to build a better sense of the kind of people that he was to be surrounded by, and so he is here, in a mask in bronze and green, with elegant golden scrollwork for embellishment. His suit is more downplayed in sage green with some simple gold embroidery, fitted to his slender shape with only a simple silken cape to match that of his partner, though the other android had been gifted something a bit more...ostentatious.

The complaints of the other were met with the softest quirk of a sarcastic little smile, as Simon assured him that he looked fine, and they could tuck it up and pin it, if he really felt that it was that fragile.

It's hard not to spend every moment of the gathering glued to one another, but Simon knows that they need to be able to talk with other people. So he can be found between dances quietly people-watching. Sometimes with an empty glass flute in hand as he pretends to blend in.

A Tour of Elements
Simon moves from the terrace to the gardens, observing the others vying for the favors of the various royalty. The platforms get a long, curious look, but Simon opts not to make a fool of himself here just yet. He doesn't trust that he'd be able to pull off the same kind of agility that high risk raids and missions had demanded of him in front of an audience. Call it stage fright.

The water and the sound of music elsewhere draws his attention though, and Simon makes his way there, scanning the scenery with a soft, wondrous sort of expression. He'd never seen something quite so...magical before, in the less literal sense of the word. He can be seen occasionally just standing and looking out across the garden quietly. It's soothing here. Just the thing that his frazzled nerves needed after how the last few years had gone, and more specifically the last week.

He lingers here for a good while, eventually sitting in quiet contemplation. Had he still had it, his LED might have cycled a gentle, flickering blue that would not be all that different from the colors lighting the area. He doesn't even realize that he's picked up something small, until he finally decides that he should move on. The pearl gets a curious look; he doesn't remember getting any information about this, only the opal. He gets the feeling that perhaps he should hold on to it, nonetheless.

When he finally passes by into the land's embrace, he's taken aback by how verdant the garden is, and without realizing that he's doing it, he takes a deep breath of the earthen smell. He looks up into the deep shadows of the canopies of nearby trees, swaying gently as they do in the wind. He walks with his head up, taking it all in, keeping just out of the lantern glow. It feels like this place is much more private, with its alcoves where pairs whisper sweetly to one another. A thought flashes in his mind, and is dismissed quickly, of hands peeled of their skin to show synthetic white underneath, clasped in silent interface. He doesn't dare voice how much he would one day like to have such a moment. Nobody that he has ever cared for has had the time nor the interest.

He could dream, though.

With a soft, sad smile, he moves on.

Wildcard
If someone would like to simply meet him while he's out and about without the constraints of the prompts, throw something at me here, or DM to do some vague plotting!

Varric Tethras | Dragon Age | Open to All

[ishityounot]

o. Your Turn
Varric has some suspicions about what the hell is going on, but most of them amount to something approximating, same bugnuts shit as the last time. He doesn't know a damn thing about magic or deities or any of this crap— aside from the basics, of course.

It wasn't that much different from a bad night in Lowtown, really: Don't agree to anything, don't follow anybody down a dark alley, make yourself obvious if you want to be found, and most importantly: everybody needs a friend. What he does know is, he's in a tavern, among strangers, and lost.

Varric can handle a tavern.


i. The Dragon Story
"...So there I was, up my armpits in creekwater, stomping through this miserable little backwater Gully. Ferelden, I tell you, great country, but they love their wet boots," Varric was seated at a low board table, well-suited for dwarves, leaning forward to gesture illustratively with his broad, scarred hands for his eager audience, "I'm just glad to get out of the place, but the minute the ravine opens up, what do I see? A dragon."

He slaps his knee; this is quite a turn, you see.

"Now, it was just a little one, and the Inquisitor, when she points that out, I had to laugh. That's how she was, always looking on the bright side. Of course, that's the thing about dragons: whenever you see just one, you know there's always more..."


ii. The Assassin Story
"...And that was the third time that day, I shit you not. Three! Three assassination squads, and for what? We hadn't even made it big yet, back then. Even Carver was pissed, and back then he hadn't learned better than to make a bad day worse...Of course, you know Hawke, he just stands up out of the rubble and laughs right at him. That was just like him; you send somebody around to gut the man, and he'll have a joke for every stabbing," Varric concludes, reaching for his drink— he hesitates then, and amends, "...Or, well, attempted stabbing."

And it was a good long, drink to whet down his throat. This was thirsty work after all. Maker, what he wouldn't do to have Hawke here, now— either of them. This kind of insanity needed a joke or three to make it palatable.

"Right, where was I? Oh yeah. So, Hawke was about to be down a kidney or two..."


iii. The Bar Story
"...I'm sitting there thinking, damn, I'm getting too old for this. Lucky me, I'd found myself a protege. So I give her the signal and Rook just kicks the door down. You ever see an elf kick a door down? Classic move, but it's hard to pull off— thanks," Varric tips his head in the direction of the person refilling his drink, and the spreads his hands wide, indicating the breadth of the table in front of them as if it were the map of a battleground, "See now, if it was me, I'd try a little diplomacy, grease some palms, but not Rook. Next thing I know, she's going at 'em like a wildcat, craziest shit you ever saw. I'm telling you, this beatdown was beautiful, it was like art, and I've known a few brawls in my time."

Shotglass after empty shotglass meets with their fate, rolling thither and yon in the wake of Varric's mime-act. If the real fight had been even half as dramatic, it really would have been something to see.

"And after the dust clears, you know what she says to me? Well..."


iv. Open/Wildcard
Drink spent and stories told, Varric reclines with the front two feet of his chair and the only too feet of his body propped up in an improbable balance. It'd been a long fucking day even before showing up here, and he's been here for hours, waiting to see a friendly face.

But hey, what's the rush?

Tavern food isn't good, but it's plenty. The drinks are fine too. And it's not as if he has anywhere else to go, under the circumstances. Hell of a thing, this mess. And maybe you're in it too?

iii. The Bar Story

[holdshisown]

Maedhros gives the dwarf an amused look. "Well, I've seen myself do it a time or two. Though if it is the same Rook as I've had the pleasure of meeting here I must admit I have not seen one of her stature do so before." He chuckles. "I don't know... I've seen some truly crazy things in my time. But I bet it was quite a sight."

"What did she say, friend? I admit I'm quite curious."

Cinna | THE HUNGER GAMES Films | Dryad

[channelmyemotions]

The Great Masquerade

Cinna expected a lot of things of the tribute interviews...he didn't expect to get plucked from his own goddamn world before Katniss and Peeta could ever take the fucking stage.

Still, as he walks into this massive party, he has to admit: their hosts have incredible taste.

Personally, he'd have gone with something a little more insect themed. More yellow than gold, iridescent pieces to the mask to simulate a carapace, points for stingers...

He's already formulating the trackerjacker-inspired ensemble as he makes his rounds, sampling the food and drink with quiet curiosity. Scanning the crowd, picking out skin tones and hair that would suit the brighter colors, those where he'd have to tone them down without losing the theme.

It's not the craziest game he's ever played with himself at a party, and depending on the styles around here? Could prove to be beneficial down the line.

The Land's Embrace

Given the glittering emerald set in the cuff now fastened securely around his wrist, Cinna moves to the garden when he spots it, and the individual who is their 'leader.'

For him, the jury's still out on that.

When he walks in...for a long time, he can't move or breathe all that much, to say nothing of speaking.

Cinna is well aware of how disconnected he is from his roots. Knowing where you come from, it's never the same as living it. Walking the roads of your fathers, sewing the stitches of your mothers, breathing the air in the same way on the same days. It's not a notion anyone in the Capitol is aware even exists, but he knows. From his father, his grandmother, his Mamaw--Grandmums to anyone outside the family. Never Mamaw in public.

It's one thing to be aware of what he doesn't know, but to feel it...that loss, that depth and breadth and expanse of what he could have had instead of money and luxury and art? Here in this place that smells of damp and green, filled with quiet and life and love? Where living things meet and make something greater than a dress or a statement or even a revolution...

Anyone in the garden will find him, mask off, eyes wide and streaming...wearing an expression of pure, raw joy as he gradually finds it in him to reach out and run his fingers over the bright, waxy green leaf of a plant just off to his side.

Wildcard

Choose Your Own Cinna!

Masquerade

[odare]

Finnick's outfit is understated compared to what he'd wear for an opening ceremony or a big Capitol event, but the magic of this world decided to grace him with something he would actually pick for himself, versus what some uppity stylist would shove him into, so he's feeling confident. In his element, in this context, it will be easy for Cinna to recognize Finnick, and vice versa, having mainly encountered each other at events of this nature in the past.

Though, Finnick has long since stopped hoping anyone from home would show up here, so he's certainly not expecting it. As he glides around the place with a glass of champagne, eyes appraising other guests, the first thing he notices is Cinna's lovely skin tone. While there are people of many colors here, it's actually been a while since Finnick saw that sort of deep, warm brown hue. He admires the stranger for a moment, before realizing he may not be a stranger at all, and then freezes.

Cinna. Katniss and Peeta's stylist. He made the beautiful and innovative outfits that sold them as Victors and as rebels to rally behind. And then he was killed.

Finnick's blood runs cold, for a moment, and he stares longer and harder than he really should. If Cinna is here, could others be? Did he come here after his death, or another point in time? And what on earth is Finnick supposed to say to the guy? Should he even speak to him?

Of course he should. Has to. His mind will race all evening with possibilities if he doesn't find out what's up.

But he can't quite muster his usual easy charm as he sidles up to him. No smile, a serious tone, an intent gaze.

"... Cinna. Hi. Do you remember me?" He reaches a hand out gently. "Finnick Odair."

Rocky Devereaux | OC | Dryad

[rockysmash]

Arrival {Drink Sampling Fakeout}

Anyone who's in the tavern the day of this particular arrival will make an easy mistake: there's a man on the floor, with shaggy purple hair, laying facedown. He's not in a thoroughfare, so he could be missed--he's out of the way, fairly quiet save for the occasional groan or muffled curse, and he's...really not moving.

Of course someone may come over to admonish him, to warn about the magical nature of the drinks. Perhaps his savior has been subject to the effects of the S(lay) Ride...

The muffled answer you get from the floorboards just leads to greater confusion.

"Din' drink nuthin'. Just feel bad. Uuuuuuuuuuuugh."

Rock "Rocky" Devereaux, a natural born werewolf, is for all intents and purposes, human at the moment--and he's having trouble coping.

Season Of Light-ish

Rocky's family celebrates the winter holiday season by means of assimilation. It's purely secular, with a little bit of a nod to the winter solstice thrown in for the years when members of Dad's side of the family visit. For his pack, and the ancient version of Voudon they practice, there's no real religious significance to it.

So Rocky roams the streets during the lights and singing, admiring it all with innocent curiosity. He likes to explore new things, and he actually kinda likes that this celebration is a nice version of a Christian holiday, minus the Christian. It's just so...joyful, and he has a good time.

And, because it seems like as good a time as any--the dead time of winter, the coming solstice--anyone in Grey Ward may find, in the darker areas and the forest, the glow of golden eyes now and again as a certain werewolf goes looking for the things he will need to start assembling an altar for his new home.

{ooc: Rocky is a werewolf, and his powers have been totally stripped, but he still has his inner beast present--it doesn't grant him any abilities, just causes a lot of problems as a sort of symbiotic presence that's needy, opinionated, and generally as functional as any lonely predator. The change in his eyes is only an indicator of the wolf's presence being closer to the surface.}

Masquerade

"...that's cool...that's cool...holy shit that's cool--dude, that guy could totally be from a Bioware game..."

When he's not struggling with being more or less human, Rocky is enjoying the world he's in. It's like something out of a video game for sure, and when he enters the masquerade in a jet black suit and a mask that could have come from the last RPG he played on his Youtube channel--either that Dragon Age one or the last demo Quinn designed--he starts to make a game of it.

He can't help it: he's lonely, the wolf is still pissed, and he doesn't like snooty parties like this. Plus, he's too scared to try any of the challenge things with his big clumsy hue-man hands and feet that don't want to do what he tells them to do.

So he's bored--so yes, he's talking to himself, staring and pointing at people for no reason, and seeming to be having a fairly good time doing so.

In all likelihood? This guy, unquestionably, looks more than a little crazy.

Arrival

[lonelysmiles]

Alastor looked down at the man on the ground, ears twitching at the comment.

The demon, being the kind creature that he was, reached out to nudge the man with one foot.

"New arrival?" he asked cheerfully, bending over from his seven feet of height to get a better look.

Imogen Farrell | OC

[soldforless]

A R R I V A L
Imogen was staying far away from the tavernkeeper. She was paying attention, mind you. She was listening to the other people who were asking the questions about what was going on but she was keeping her distance except for when she needed a drink. She wasn't going to ask questions of the person, whatever or whoever they were. It was her experience that you never listened to the first face you saw because they rarely told the truth, the important truth.

But at least they had good drinks.

She was sipping at a honeyed drink as she looked around, relaxing over time. She felt a little warm too but she figured that was just from the cozy warmth of the tavern where she had found herself after waking up. Licking her lips slowly after lowering her drink, she glanced around again. Eventually she should move on to check things out but she was still listening. And drinking.

THE SKY'S ASCENSION
Imogen didn't need her powers for this fun little expedition because just the promise of gaining some kind of favor was enough. That and she liked showing off a little bit which she could still do now.

When she moved, she did so with quick precision. She leapt from one platform to another with ease, even when they tried to do something tricky like rising or falling. She would merely pause, assess and then move again as she had been training to do this sort of thing since she was small.

She was near the end when she paused to watch someone staring at a platform that was moving and she smirked. "Want me to tell you when to jump? You need to do it sooner than you think if you want to land in the middle instead of the edge."

THE SEA'S SECRETS
After all the excitement of trying to earn the sky's favor, it was strange to wander into complete and utter stillness but she could appreciate it. She found a quiet spot near the water where she reclined against a large rock, stretching her legs in front of her while resting her hands on the flat slope of her stomach.

It would be the perfect place to meditate if she didn't hate that little habit. She could practically hear Father scolding her gently for that but he wasn't really here. He hadn't been here or there for a long while now since he had deemed her old enough to be out on her own.

No, she wasn't going to think about that right now. Glancing down at the small pearl that had been given to her, she tilted her hand this way and that as she let it roll around on her palm. It seemed she was using it to distract herself as her thoughts wandered. That didn't mean she wouldn't notice someone coming near as her eyes would snap up as soon as someone got within a few feet of her, her gaze sharp before she relaxed with an easy smile. "Hi, pretty place, huh?"

arrival

[swordbreaker]

Not far from Imogen was a large man clad in armor and a long, fur-lined cloak clearly meant to aid in surviving a harsh winter sitting at the bar, a drink of his own in front of him that the Tavernkeeper had shoved his way without any proper request made. He wasn't going to drink that. Even well-covered as he was, he sported plenty of visible scars, and an eyepatch over one eye half hidden by the long, disheveled veil of his hair.

He was trying to be patient, but this was... inconvenient, to say the least. A man could not rule a country while being thrust about the multiverse — which, for the record, was an absolutely absurd notion. Perhaps he was dreaming or, more likely, dead and all that he had experienced after the professor held her hand out to him was nothing but some vision of the last traces of hope he had in his heart. Maybe that girl in Gronder had killed him and Rodrigue was still alive. What a boon that would be for the world.

The worst of it was how weak he felt. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was the boons of his crest always increasing his strength. But something was off, here, in this place, this afterlife or hallucination. He glanced to the woman beside him, the one that had been scouting, no doubt, and eyed the redness of her cheeks. "Are you ill?"

Michael | Legion (2010) | Sylph

[acreditar]

◤✞ 𝖆𝖗𝖗𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖑 ✞◥

Michael's arrival is less than a shock to him than for others for the simple fact that, before his arrival, he completed the task he set out to do. Whatever happened to humanity from that moment forward is on them, he at least allowed them a chance to prove that they could be better and were worth saving.

Now, leaving a modern-day city, returning to Heaven restored, and suddenly ending up in a land untouched by the skyscrapers and pollution? That is another story, so his unease has him descending the stairwell after exiting his room calmly yet with all the care of a man accustomed to battle. Even without his abilities, he is still a force to be reckoned with.

Once in the tavern, he finds what he believes to be a quiet corner of the room so that he can observe the goings on. If he catches the eye of someone, all they are given is the slightest tilt of his head (not even a nod) to show that he has seen them -- no smile, warm greeting or any other fanfare.

When he is eventually offered a drink, he murmurs a quick: "No, thank you.

◤✞ 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖐𝖞'𝖘 𝖆𝖘𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓 ✞◥

Nothing in life is free, or at least that is what Michael thinks to himself as he watches some succeed and others fail. Instinct, his missing wings and his respect for humanity keep him from trying to save any who fall. Their captors would not bring them here simply to let them perish on something as meaningless as this. When someone in the crowd attempts to step forward to play the hero, he extends his arm to block their pursuit.

"If they wish to thrive here, they must do it on their own merit or it is meaningless."

Be it the resolve in his eyes or the words themselves, the individual backs down and he steps up to take his place. He may have needed his wings to fly but he needs little more than his feet to make himself soar, which he does, finding the platform. While he doesn't look back, he does call out while making his way to the next one.

"Have faith and do not be afraid to fall."

◤✞ 𝖖𝖚𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖇𝖔𝖆𝖗𝖉 ✞◥

While he doesn't muscle anyone out of the way, he does linger in front of the board to commit the less mundane tasks to memory. Every bit adds up and, while being without his abilities isn't a new predicament, saving up these bones will be beneficial in the long run. When someone steps up beside him, no matter if they look like they are capable or not, he speaks up.

"Completing as many of these as possible would be in our best interest. Will you join me?"

Whether they agree or disagree he will complete the tasks regardless, so asking them neither benefits nor hinders him at this time. A battle isn't won solely through numbers and while he believes in his strength, he knows that a few of these will require more manpower. So, if he can help himself and someone else at the same time, he can stay true to his calling.

Arrival (it's an oc)

[forlorn_exile]

Kess had been sitting in the tavern. He's made a habit, in his long life, of sitting in taverns and watching people. Triesti would suggest he put it on his business cards: tavern creep.

It was the best way to get information: about a new place. About the people.

And about how careful he would have to be about...what he was. And someone trying that hard to be inconspicuous? Was conspicuous.

He slid into the booth next to him. Close, but not too close, and not opposite, adversarial. "Most people drink to forget. Is your life so good that you have nothing you wish to forget?"