Let's do the Test Drive Again
I. BEARING FRUIT (NEW CHARACTERS ONLY)
It starts out as a pleasant dream. Youāre in your favorite place, with your favorite people. Itās a moment of idyllic comfort.
And then, it goes wrong.
The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, theyāre not stars. Youāre certain. Theyāre watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people youāre with, but theyāre frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.
So you run, even though you know you wonāt escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. Thereās agony as if youāre being ripped apart, and thenā
You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a womanās voice speaks gently.
Iām sorry it couldnāt be saved. But, come, itās time to wake.
You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, itās odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, itās warm. Familiar. Important. You donāt know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.
The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as youāre buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you donāt notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.
From a seed youāre born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.
And once youāve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.
And then, it goes wrong.
The sky turns dark above, and as you look up, you see the black expanse of space spotted with faraway pinprick lights of stars. Yet, theyāre not stars. Youāre certain. Theyāre watching you. A billion eyes all looking down, and they spill forth as if sky itself was a dam holding back those dark waters. You reach back to the people youāre with, but theyāre frozen in place. Their eyes are black, reflecting only the expanse of dark eyes.
So you run, even though you know you wonāt escape it. You glance back and see it not overtaking, but consuming. The landscape around you is being devoured, and you can see it cracking apart. The world itself is breaking, and it cracks under your feet. You fall, and the billion eyes chase after you until the darkness swallows you whole. Thereās agony as if youāre being ripped apart, and thenā
You cannot see. You cannot feel. You simply are. Yet even so, impossibly, a womanās voice speaks gently.
Iām sorry it couldnāt be saved. But, come, itās time to wake.
You wake with a start, cradled by soft, velvety plants, and sticky with a sap that smells faintly of honey and iron. You can see the veins of the leaves that hold you, lit warmly and gently by what looks like a crystal embedded above you. Yet, itās odd, because that crystal calls to you. When you reach out to touch it, itās warm. Familiar. Important. You donāt know why, but you know you must hold onto this, because now it feels wrong for it to be suspended in these leaves. So, you pull it out.
The light starts to fade, but only in time to see as the leaves cradling you immediately start to soften and crumble, and with it comes a torrent of dirt. Soft, loamy soil starts to fill the space around you in the dark as youāre buried. Or, rather, you already were. You reach out through the dirt desperately, and your hands finds a root, so you pull while you clutch that precious crystal so close that it almost feels like it sinks into you (in your panic, you donāt notice that it does). You reach out again, and this time, your hand hits open air and plenty of sturdy roots around to grab.
From a seed youāre born, and like a sprout, you make your way out of the ground.
And once youāve clawed your way out of the soft earth and the roots, nearby, you see the soil shift. Another hand comes up to grasp desperately for something, anything, just as you had been.
II. BOUGH-BREAKER, ROOT-QUAKER
There are new Shard-Bearers at the Tree of Life, and Yima has asked that their elders return to the Tree to greet them, to bring them forth and answer their questions. She warns that it will be unlike the last time, for the Dryad's presence has gone -- the root-caverns of the Tree are damaged, the previous actions of some of the Shard-Bearers have left it injured, blackened by ill intent. Be careful, Commune where you must, but be aware that the Tree has reacted to its injury and will seek out the space within your Communions to make its agonies known.
All will experience the consequences to the actions of the few.
Whether awakening within or descending once more into the cavernous, root layer of the Tree of life is precarious; passages are maze-like, with claustrophobic squeezes and sudden chasms. Worse yet, is the miasma that hovers in the atmosphere. It leaches into your eyes, your skin, the space below your fingernails and drags through your lungs with every inhalation. Images of explosions, of fire and the sensation of shrapnel tearing through you begin to spark like fireworks within your mind. The pain builds, souring as it does.
The ambiance here is revolting. Great chasms have opened in the environment, threatening to pour inattentive Shard-Bearers into the Tree's deeper underbelly. The cloying, dark vapors around everyone dull the senses, until those you may have entered with are gone, or perhaps new bodies have joined you in the rancid space. The miasma urges you towards your baser desires, your desperate violence, and even as the Tree's pain evokes a sense of desperate self-defense, your Shard warms upon your body.
Somehow, the Tree still seeks to Commune with all -- pressing its need upon you: a single flame. A roaring pyre. A chilled ember.
All will experience the consequences to the actions of the few.
Whether awakening within or descending once more into the cavernous, root layer of the Tree of life is precarious; passages are maze-like, with claustrophobic squeezes and sudden chasms. Worse yet, is the miasma that hovers in the atmosphere. It leaches into your eyes, your skin, the space below your fingernails and drags through your lungs with every inhalation. Images of explosions, of fire and the sensation of shrapnel tearing through you begin to spark like fireworks within your mind. The pain builds, souring as it does.
The ambiance here is revolting. Great chasms have opened in the environment, threatening to pour inattentive Shard-Bearers into the Tree's deeper underbelly. The cloying, dark vapors around everyone dull the senses, until those you may have entered with are gone, or perhaps new bodies have joined you in the rancid space. The miasma urges you towards your baser desires, your desperate violence, and even as the Tree's pain evokes a sense of desperate self-defense, your Shard warms upon your body.
Somehow, the Tree still seeks to Commune with all -- pressing its need upon you: a single flame. A roaring pyre. A chilled ember.
THE GAME IS AFOOT
The Tree of Life cannot communicate but in abstract images and sounds, but the general gist of its need is eventually grasped by all Shard-Bearers: the miasma present is the result of an attack upon the Dryad that once lived among the roots of the Tree. Actions taken by other Shard-Bearers have left the Tree in dire straits, deeply wounded and unable to prevent itself from naturally lashing out in its own defense as it dies. It cannot let go of those it has imprisoned, until they have revealed their nature to it - until it knows it can finally, finally let go.
Characters can decide amongst themselves how to deal with the threat of miasma. It's easy to figure out, as your shards will naturally want to absorb what's similar to discord within your shards, but just like with discord, holding hands, or joining together in some way will allow the pain to be shared amongst everyone in the group. There's no such thing as failure, but if a character decides for the group, there may be the opportunity for interventionā¦
Characters can decide amongst themselves how to deal with the threat of miasma. It's easy to figure out, as your shards will naturally want to absorb what's similar to discord within your shards, but just like with discord, holding hands, or joining together in some way will allow the pain to be shared amongst everyone in the group. There's no such thing as failure, but if a character decides for the group, there may be the opportunity for interventionā¦
- Characters may choose to take on the role of a martyr, accepting the Tree's miasma ( its pain ) upon themselves as the sole sufferant. They will experience excruciating pain and lasting effects, but will spare others from this trauma.
- Characters may also choose to share the pain among themselves, though doing so will require Communion to be shared between all parties -- this will result in the temporary collapse of boundaries and barricades, and emotions and memories may flow against their will into others.
- Characters may also decide to do nothing at all, whereupon their decision to take no action will result in the miasma growing stronger, denser and more cloying until they are rendered unconscious and ejected from the roots of the tree.
- Have you a choice unique to your character that wasn't mentioned? Might you try to heal the tree's pain, or perhaps harm it further? If you're making the attempt, make sure your group is aware and submit your record of action to the link included below!
III. TWO CITIES, ALIKE IN DIGNITY BUT WE ALL KNOW YIMOMMY'S WHERE IT'S AT
Having just celebrated the dual-natured festivities known as the Year's End Festival and Qiasu, Springstar and Highstorm ( respectively ) are wrapping up the period of time where Kenos a celebrates unity and togetherness, coming together with friends and family, to be kind to others and share in oneās wealth - whether that comes in the form of knowledge, monetary gains, or the exchange of gifts and oneās time. While the core festivities are over, many of the residents of Kenos are still caught up in the celebratory mood; those who are not, have begun to fret and whisper about a rumor that has spread throughout both cities.
( Many more residents are attempting to get rid of their excess stock, and may attempt to pawn off kitschy goods and, strangely, unclaimed gifts for people they claim they have no memory of, or simply do not exist. )
With the new Shard-Bearers present or en route, it is Kathova and Cetina that approach the established ones, requesting that they form mentorships with the new souls to assist them with the integration process. To this end, they have both provided a centralized zone in both Highstorm and Springstar for a small, casual meet-and-greet to be held before the new Shard-Bearers are unleashed upon Kenos as a whole.
Additionally, as Springstar and Highstorm are holding their events on different days, it is possible for the knowledge-hungry to participate in both informational sessions -- the tones and opinions held by both cities are doubtless to differ, and some Shard-Bearers who have chosen to harmonize with either faction may even find their way to the opposing faction's session as well. After all, the year's end is still lingering in the air, and cooperation is the current name of the game.
( Many more residents are attempting to get rid of their excess stock, and may attempt to pawn off kitschy goods and, strangely, unclaimed gifts for people they claim they have no memory of, or simply do not exist. )
With the new Shard-Bearers present or en route, it is Kathova and Cetina that approach the established ones, requesting that they form mentorships with the new souls to assist them with the integration process. To this end, they have both provided a centralized zone in both Highstorm and Springstar for a small, casual meet-and-greet to be held before the new Shard-Bearers are unleashed upon Kenos as a whole.
Additionally, as Springstar and Highstorm are holding their events on different days, it is possible for the knowledge-hungry to participate in both informational sessions -- the tones and opinions held by both cities are doubtless to differ, and some Shard-Bearers who have chosen to harmonize with either faction may even find their way to the opposing faction's session as well. After all, the year's end is still lingering in the air, and cooperation is the current name of the game.
SPRINGSTAR, αιĻĪ½Ī¹ĪæĻ Ī®Ī»Ī¹ĪæĻ
In Springstar, the seat of the Tribune becomes available for such a forum. While a section of the building itself has been reserved for the meeting between fresh faces and experienced Shard-Bearers alike, the hustle and bustle of Heliopolis continues around them -- acolytes still gather their robes and tomes, hurrying from their quarters to lessons. A score of young militants march in step across the yard to the training grounds.
Tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare common to Springstar's warmer climate -- fruits and wines, savory smoked meats and roasted vegetables, a series of meze platters and souvlaki skewers have been lain out to encourage forum participants to snack as they speak. The atmosphere is light, ambient with informality and friendliness, though topics will inevitably stray towards philosophic, Springstar's meeting grounds are decorated with handsome chaise lounges and slouching klismos chairs in small, intimate groupings.
Tables draped in white-and-gold-trimmed fabrics fare filled with fare common to Springstar's warmer climate -- fruits and wines, savory smoked meats and roasted vegetables, a series of meze platters and souvlaki skewers have been lain out to encourage forum participants to snack as they speak. The atmosphere is light, ambient with informality and friendliness, though topics will inevitably stray towards philosophic, Springstar's meeting grounds are decorated with handsome chaise lounges and slouching klismos chairs in small, intimate groupings.
HIGHSTORM, Š»ŃŠ½Ń-близнеŃŃ
Eternally in opposition, Highstorm provides the Manor's courtyard as the setting for their informational meeting. Here, formality is of utmost importance, with attending Zenith loyalists and residents dressed in beautiful, albeit austere attire -- they are, after all, standing before Lady Yima's home. A buffet-style luncheon is spread alongside one of the largest reflecting pools, wherein you may gaze and find your memories revealed in retrospect upon the water's surface.
There are few places to be seated in the Manor's courtyard, resulting in a milling of bodies as they flow and ebb between smaller gatherings, clustering in small-to-large groups with small platters and shimmering flutes of drink held in their hands.
There are few places to be seated in the Manor's courtyard, resulting in a milling of bodies as they flow and ebb between smaller gatherings, clustering in small-to-large groups with small platters and shimmering flutes of drink held in their hands.
RUMOR MILL
In both locations information passes between all in a forum, spread and disseminated among the masses - it's a good opportunity for city residents, faction loyalists and interested new parties to share and share alike. Once the meet-and-greet has concluded, twin missives from both of the faction leads are read out -- invitations for all present to explore the cities to their heart's content, and warnings about stumbling ill-prepared ( or at all ) into the Below, or worse yet, the Beyond.
No matter how conversations between player characters go, everyone will walk away with the following knowledge to ensure new players do not feel "behind" in terms of what has previously happened on Kenos TV.
No matter how conversations between player characters go, everyone will walk away with the following knowledge to ensure new players do not feel "behind" in terms of what has previously happened on Kenos TV.
- Cyrus, the head of the Meridian faction is a native aristocrat of Springstar, who provides characters with an iliachtida, or sunbeam. This item tethers a character to their world, ensuring it does not fully disappear. His stance involves the idea that, using Meridian's light, worlds can be restored and you may return home.
- In contrast, the head of the Zenith faction is Yima, who has been the head of Highstorm since - arguably - its inception. She provides characters with a Shard of that they love most, to protect and hold. Yima believes former worlds to be lost, and looks to the future instead.
- While Harmonization occurs as the characters' Shard ( literally the manifestation of a character's soul! ) accrues the natural energies generated by Meridian or Zenith, Discord is also as natural an occurrence -- a symptom, in fact, of that process. Discord is best reduced by someone from the opposite faction, and is also influenced by the Aspect of one's character.
Cyrus likes enchiladas.- Many individuals recommend the following locations to new arrivals, as a means of enjoyment, involvement or further information-seeking: Highstorm's Court at Yima's Manor remains a great area for reflection and self-discovery, while the Tomes - a series of libraries - possess a magnitude of amassed knowledge, both foreign and relative to yourself. Heliopolis, the capital of Springstar, is the core of government and administration, and houses many avenues towards involvement in the goings-on of the city. Likewise, the PsychagogĆa District is the beating heart of entertainment within an island known for its passions.
- Rumors of past exploits linger on the lips of many. Did you know that one of Meridian's Harmonized slew one of Zenith's before the eyes of countless bystanders? That there was an expedition of Meri and Zenite Shard-Bearers dispatched to Alenroux, and some came back brutalized! Did you hear that the Shard of a Zenite is being held hostage by the Meridians?
- The new marking that has appeared upon your character's body is known as their sign of Aspect, and supposedly correlates to the fundamental truths of their soul. A Shard also exists, and is known as the characters' soul itself.
NOTES
no subject
It was supposed to be a handheld fireball. He sighs at his hand, put-upon. He can still feel the magic, or else he might have a very different reaction to being, um, stopped-up like this, but as it stands: funny hand gestures.
Helpfully, he explains:] I'd give it a whirl, but I'm apparently completely spent.
[And there's a careful pause there that he makes look casual, the ticking clock that starts in the back of his mind immediately whenever he alludes, no matter how obliquely, to being a mage. Inevitably, every new interaction comes to this moment, the one where he judges a person's reaction to mages and decides whether or not to cut his losses early and go.
This time, with funny finger-wiggling!]
Catch me in a couple days and I'll light it up for you, if you like.
no subject
Ah. That will last until you harmonize, one way or the other.
[Liem's reaction to the revelation of the man's potential magical ability appears to be: no reaction. Maybe a touch of knowing sympathy, in the set of his mouth and in the tone of his voice. He was in that boat for close to two months, himself. Hadn't been keen on rushing his choice.]
I don't really know why; something about the way magic in this world flows, I suppose. But if you've a strong leaning, perhaps it will only be a day or two.
[His mouth twitches into a small, dry smile.]
If I'm still carrying this thing around by then, perhaps I'll take you up on your generous offer.
no subject
Don't say that, you'll tempt me to show off.
[Not that he would ever make any rash decisions just to get access to his magic back. No. He loves wandering around feeling defenseless and half of himself, absolutely.]
You picked, I'm assuming. Was it [
harrowing] difficult?[The choice, or the process itself... he'll take either.]
no subject
[Liem would not have thought crisping a glove made of plants to be the sort of activity that would require one to be showy about, so what this little quip says to him is that this man doesnāt actually need much of an excuse. He makes a note to meet this gentleman with the liking for fire somewhere uncrowded if he does ever volunteer something for him to torch. You know, as a friendly little bonding activity.]
I found choosing difficult, yes.
[Heās not going to explain his entire grisly history with being forcibly indoctrinated by a world-ending tyrant back when heād first been taken from his own home. If his new acquaintance has been lucky enough to skip that entire bit of unpleasantness, he sees no reason at all to dredge it up.]
No one leaned on me to make a choice, so I spent several weeks just⦠getting my bearings. But itās difficult to get anything done in this place with no affiliation.
[Also not having access to magic was a little inconvenient, but that hadnāt been much of an issue for most of the time heād spent unharmonized. Right up until heād spent an entire night in a wood full of horrible monsters and realized that, in fact, not having access to any of his magic was an issue after all.]
I quite liked my home; Iād like to see it again. So, I decided to lend my services to the Tribune in order to learn more about his sect. After that, it was quite simple.
no subject
But the information is good to know, too. He's not very keen on the whole... Tribune and his sect thing? If he never has to talk to that man, all the better for it, but the confirmation that many doors are shut to the unaffiliated is another thorn in his side.]
I'm used to getting the most conveniently awful treatment, [he says, normally,] But you do make a fair point.
[If he's to make use of himself around here, the first step is magic, and so committing is already a done deal. It's simply when, he supposes...]
You're the first person I've talked to who actually liked it back home. I don't know what to do with that.
[hey some of those zany zenith people are nuts huh]
no subject
Itās actually the manās other statement that surprises him more. His brows furrow slightly as he regards his companion.]
Really?
[That seems an odd thing to say, being as they are in the midst of a city where missing oneās place of origin is part of the general cultural identity. It is also one of the only things that lured him here, to this rowdy, party-loving city of eternal sunlight. That, and the familiar climate.]
Itās a common enough sentiment among the shard-bearers here. Not universal, no, but still ā Iām surprised.
[But perhaps heās not been in the city for very long.]
Did you? Like your home?
no subject
Admittedly, I've been wandering around that awful garden party for that Yima woman. There's nothing quite like the things they're saying over there.
[Whew! Some of those guys, huh! Now, this is a great question, and perhaps the completely ordinary way he refers to being treated awfully explains away in advance why it takes him so long to come up with an answer. He hasn't had a proper home since he was twelve, and yes, there were bits and pieces of each place he lived that he grew to cherish— Karl and the other Circle apprentices, the good he could do in Kirkwall, each time he found himself folded into a messy group of morons he could call friends— but.
Did he like it, overall. Did he have, hm, a net positive time in Thedas.]
Not really, no. But I'd like it to be better. And there are people I still care about. I think that merits a high enough score to count one way or the other.
no subject
[He's been talking to the Zenites. Suddenly his prior experience makes a great deal of sense. The shard-bearers over there tend to be indifferent to the idea of seeing their worlds again at best, and active apocalypse-seekers at worst.
Still, hopefully this man is better off for having asked around over there. It's smart to learn more about both sides, and god knows Liem spent long enough living in Highstorm before settling in Springstar. He isn't one to judge a person for fraternizing with "the enemy."
And in any case, the answer the man gives is a familiar enough refrain.]
That's a fine reason to have a connection to home.
[A small smile lights his face, quiet but earnest.]
To be mortal is to want things to be better. What separates the people here from those in Highstorm is just the belief that the place they came from still can be.