𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐢 🌼 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hearthwarming) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crescentview2023-02-07 08:20 pm
hearthwarming) wrote in crescentview2023-02-07 08:20 pm
🏝️ dulces sueños group excursion! 🏝️
🏝️ who: intrepid adventurers (vacationers?) and more!
🏝️ what: ori organized (origanized?) a group trip to the resort! mass memshare ensues.
🏝️ when: fall 9-10
🏝️ where: dulces sueños resort
🏝️ warnings: threads will be marked as needed for memshares.
( This is the ill-fated massextinction memshare event. Please refer to the event for details on the resort and the plotting post for any specific details for characters' memshares! There are toplevels for each area of the resort (and for the memshare). Enjoy! )
🏝️ what: ori organized (origanized?) a group trip to the resort! mass memshare ensues.
🏝️ when: fall 9-10
🏝️ where: dulces sueños resort
🏝️ warnings: threads will be marked as needed for memshares.
[ Hopefully everyone had fun on the Arco Lunar! The morning after the boat departs from the docks, a letter arrives to your mailbox: ]
Hello, intrepid adventurer!
I am excited to have you along for a group excursion to the mysterious new island! In two days' time, let us gather in the town square and set off from there! Please be prepared to stay the night. It will be so fulfilling and memorable for everyone to spend a night on an adventure together!
If you have any questions or concerns, please come find me at my flower shop in town or at the forest farm where I live!
Sincerely,
Oriphi
[ If she accidentally delivered it to a few wrong mailboxes, then... Oops!
On the promised day, once everyone (and likely a few surprise tag-alongs) has gathered or been gathered, Ori distributes little paper bags of snacks to everyone. Inside are cookies, oat snacks, and a freshly-picked apple from her and M-21's orchard. Do with them as you please... Just don't let her catch you throwing it into the sea or something. 🥺 ]
Alright. I think we should head out, then! Thanks for coming along, everyone! I hope it'll be a great time. Oh, and please don't forget to drink plenty of water and use this incredible ointment I discovered on this island! It's called "sunscreen!" Tieflings don't really get sunburnt, but you should use it!
[ And with that our intrepid adventurers set off to the mysterious, dangerous, unknowable... resort island! ]
( This is the ill-fated mass
no subject
What a sight! You could try to fight on, knowing well that this is yet another corruption your body is immune to--even though swords, it is not.
But Braham's voice booms from the side: "Commander! There are sewer grates into the fortress. Maybe we can get through one!"
He doesn't wait long for an answer. What will you do?]
no subject
Though it's been quite a long time since he felt the call, it rolls around in his head with familiarity, the faint buzz of other sylvari in the battle calm him in a way that is hard to explain. He doesn't even need to look down to know who he is.
But this--the fortress, the desert, the ghosts, the undead (which are most certainly not Orrian)--is unfamiliar.
A quick assessment: main objective is to hold back the horde, incidental to getting inside, perhaps, yet the entrance is blocked by said horde. Unlikely to be in their favor if kept in this position for long, so--
The voice snaps him out of his analysis, and his head whips around to see--isn't that...?
No time to think. ]
Then we sneak in through there.
[ It's strange to feel Syrlya's voice come out of...well. It's not his mouth. It's fine. He wastes no time in rushing towards Braham, sword and shield at the ready. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he looks to see if there are any familiar (or unfamiliar) faces accompanying him. ]
no subject
There's no resistance as Trahearne runs, but for a moment control of his mouth is taken as he--no, Syrlya--calls back.] I'm going after him. Everyone fall back to Rytlock's position!
[Trahearne will need to watch his step on the descent--the tar is wet and slippery from the waves that crash against it. But provided he's mindful not to fall, reaching Braham is... easy. There's nothing that stops either of you from reaching the dimly lit sewer entrance.
You don't feel easy about it, however, nor is that feeling of frustration mollified as you catch up to Braham and your voice spills out again.]
That was reckless, Braham!
["And?"
Your emotions deflate a little.] And... let's go find Joko.
["That's what I thought. 'Can't die...' Everything can die. Only question is how."
Well, now that they've arrived, Braham is willing to allow you to take the lead again. It's doesn't smell great in there.]
no subject
He watches the world around him move, sounds of battle growing distant as he--Syrlya chases after Braham. The slippery rocks are not a problem--he scrambles over them with ease and familiarity. As much as he wants to ask all the questions forming in his head, he recognizes, in a way, that it isn't his place to ask things to stop so he can find clarity.
But he can't help himself when-- ]
Joko? Palawa Joko? [ His tone is incredulous. It's a figure he'd come across once or twice in his research, but since this particular lich king had nothing to do with the Risen or Zhaitan, he'd not pursued that particular thread of information. That his name comes up at all is, quite honestly, a shock. ]
We're going to fight Palawa Joko?
[ Sorry just. Just one question. ]
no subject
[Of course it was. Joko had essentially declared war with the scarab plague. And you had joined the lead in stopping him before he could wipe out Amnoon--and then the rest of Tyria, and turn them into his undead slaves. How could you forget? This has been weeks in the making.]
"Did you hit your head on the way down?"
no subject
He rights himself, trying to brush off his blunder. He fixes Braham with a determined look. ]
No, of course not. [ He adjusts his grip on his weapons and takes a step forward. ] Apologies. Let's press onward.
no subject
It isn't long before you come across something... off. A body dead and twisted in a horrific position.
And it looks just like you. The sight is disquieting--and bewildering. Though the red blood splattered around the supposed corpse of you indicates it is at least not really a Sylvari. Whatever it is.] "Looks just like you. You have a twin?"
[Not much further again, a similar sight greet you. And then another.] "Scratch that. You're a triplet—no wait, a quadruplet...?"
no subject
But his instinctive reaction is quickly quelled when he sees the red of blood. That's not really him (it takes him a moment to remember he's in Syrlya's body anyway). With the third, fourth corpse, he sets aside his alarm as his more rational brain kicks in. ]
This can't be. [ Obviously. He's technically right here.
He stoops to study the body and pokes at it with his sword. It definitely doesn't feel like a sylvari corpse. ] An illusion?
cw: torture chamber description
Around the room are torture racks with thick chains to pull their victims taut. Rusted hooks dangle from the ceiling. Tables are lined with whips, prods, knives, and choking collars. A firepit of molten coals still burns. At the head of the room is a throne, positioned to oversee the area. And strewn across the chamber is--]
"What...the— They're ALL you."
[Bodies, all of Syrlya, many still strung up on in the position of their deaths: one pulled so tight their limbs have pulled out of place, the floor completely stained red from wounds to bleed them out. One hanging over the edge of the rack, their head hanging over a bucket full of blood and bile and their torso looking caved-in. One has been released from hanging chains and left crumbled to the ground, where the deep cavity in their torso lets their insides ooze out (are some of those missing, actually?).
You feel your lips pull back in a sneer. And even if you are not stranger to death, the sight of pure torture fills you with nausea.] I know Joko's sick, but I didn't realize he was obsessed.
"I mean, my enemies burn me in effigy, but I've never inspired this level of...whatever this is."
[Yes, whatever this is. You knew Joko had taken your slights personally, to have targeted Taimi before. But this? Really?]
no subject
But it is familiar enough, something he spent so much time around that he does not actually physically flinch or wretch at the smell. He tenses, all of his senses on edge, trying to make sense of the horrific sight before him.
He knows it isn't Syrlya. He knows it's a trick, rationally. But that does not help the quiet panic and dread that seeps through him. He never ever never wants to see him like this again. Be it in another dream. In real life. At all.
He wonders if this sight is going to haunt his dreams, too.
It must be different knowing yourself lives, when you're not so helplessly in love with the person whose bodies are strewn and mangled and mutilated throughout the room, when you would not immediately call an artillery strike upon this very fortress and the entire desert that surrounds it and stand within the fires to feel yourself burn so you may find peace together in the Mists. The unwilling sneer on his lips feels like it comes so easily.
More unwilling information floods his mind, and he grinds his teeth in anger. Taimi?! No. Not Taimi. Perhaps they had not been close, nor did they spend much time together, but Trahearne was fond of her, and he had seen promise in her all the same. She was so young.
How dare Joko hurt her. How dare he crate such an audacious display at Syrlya's expense. ]
He will pay for this display of obsession. [ His temper is evident in his voice, and he whirls on his heel to press onwards. ]
no subject
But he doesn't comment. With some digging around, you're able to find an old signet ring. Once powered, it peels back the illusionary veil in the room.]
"Oh, thank the spirits—they're just regular dead people. I mean... You know what I mean. No one deserves this."
[With the illusion dropped, you can see the puzzle dial's correct position and twist it to open the door leading further into the fortress. The hallway you're greeted with is full of obvious traps. Syrlya has skills to make this easier, but you will need to rely on your dexterity to dodge.
Roll a D20 to determine your dodge. 1-5 is major injury, 6-10 is injury, 11-20 is mostly okay.]
no subject
He takes the ring, observes the room as it is meant to be, and duly continues forward. Presumably towards Joko.
Unfortunately, Trahearne is not as dexterous as he could be. He sees the traps, and they are obvious, but as he rushes to dodge, he's thrown off by the balance of inhabiting a smaller, lighter form. And just gets wrecked. Sorry, Braham. You'll have to carry this one. ]
no subject
You manage to set off almost every trap. Braham cringes. Joko taunts and taunts you over his magic bone speakerphone that echoes through the statues around the fortress. There's a sense pulling at the edge of your conscious that this is not now this went, but it's how it's going now.
But you will, eventually, hit the end of the traps, and have to drag your bedraggled body through fighting off more Awakenend, the puzzling out more solutions to get to Joko's quarters.
You really could be in a better state once you reach them, so maybe it's no surprise that you don't catch the trap that freezes you in place, trapping you within a magic wall that doesn't let even your fingers twitch and you can't teleport out of.
You don't see Joko. But you hear him.]
"How disappointing. And honestly, unexpected; I thought you would present better. The Commander of the Pact. Hero of blah-blah-blah. Rendered useless by a glorified parlor trick."
[Braham snarls behind you, and then you feel a pressure on your back.] "Oh, no you don't! Give him one for me, Commander!"
[And Braham forcibly shoves you out of the trap--maybe too hard, given he's three times your size--and is left caught in the trap in your stead. Immobile.
The silence hangs for a moment.]
"That's your ace in the hole? Morons so besotted with you they're willing to sacrifice themselves? Haven't enough people already died for you?"
[That stings.]
no subject
And every trip into a trap, and every jeer that comes from Joko only serves to flame the anger that had already begun to smoulder in his chest. Seething from the entire situation, his own temper, eventually Trahearne stops talking altogether. His jaw is set, concentrating on moving forward, to finding Joko and taking him out.
Maybe concentrating too hard, because he misses the last trap that freezes him in place. His face is twisted in frustration, and he hates having to be suspended here, listening to more jeers.
But he doesn't exactly like how Braham takes his place either. ]
No! [ His head whips back to look at the norn, then back in the direction of Joko's voice.
It does sting. He wonders if this makes him a moron. ]
Silence, Joko! Where are you?!