Wouldn't you like to use more than words?

[letsplayamod]

The last thing you recall is likely your own death. Whether it was fast or slow, it's over now. And you're... where are you?

One moment, you were among the living. The next - you may be one of the unfortunate ones who actually died. In which case, you've found yourself flowing in the lazy rivers of the river Styx, unfathomably deep underground. Just for a moment, mind you. It's not long before your consciousness is yanked from the waters by some scary monsters, shoved into a healed body, and pushed through a portal.

Or, maybe you were caught red-handed and sentenced to your doom. But, instead of a proper death, you were whisked down into the Veins of Tartarus. And there's really only one place that could lead to... Or is it?


You've been tossed down here by the will of the Titan, but what you find is A helping hand swooping you up - possibly literally, and potentially out of the grasp of the Titan himself.

Not a moment after, you're whisked through another rift, this one a shimmering gold. Into a realm of slightly more stable platforms and a lot more shit to look through. The area is practically littered with the ill-gotten goods of a thieving God (who is happy to note via pop-up illusion that you are touching his stuff). Here, however, you are safe; assured that Typhon cannot find or hurt you here.

For the moment, you can breathe before the next part comes.

Comments

Week 6

[letsplayamod]

[Welcome Omega and Ferdinand Von Ageir.]

1/2

[letsplayamod]

[Down, down, Omega falls, ensnared in the hands of the Titan of monsters. He's still showing some heavy wounds from the onslaught Omega lead upon him, but that only seems to have made the mania in his many eyes worse.]

Graah! You have been pitiful little thorns under foot for far too long! I do not care what must be done at this point; the world is mine! I will find those mortals that fled from my ravenous hunger, and consume them to regain all of my strength!

But first...

[He raises Omega up, almost tenderly, to the height of Typhon's massive jaws.]

Take heart, little automaton. You shall be the first on my road to a brand new world-- GAAAH!!

[But it's not to be. Just as Typhon seemed to be squaring up to take a bite, a bolt of pure energy strikes the side of his face. Reeling back, temporarily blinded, his grip starts to loosen. Providing ample opportunity...]

[eeeonetwothree]

[ Omega...does not resist. He simply hangs in the Titan of Monsters' grip, like a dangling trifle, a morsel.

The proud machine, once so resilient and defiant, has given up.

He welcomes this end, and pays no heed to whatever has struck Typhon's face for now. This is what he deserves for failing his best friend and the others. For failing her. ]

2/2

[raiseyoulikea]

[...For a hero to swoop in on magic wings.]

No snacking for you, Typhon! You're on a diet!

[A young woman, clad in armor of lightning bolts, with the reddest hair and eyes of golden thread has swooped in with bow and arrow, letting loose a salvo into the Titan's face. This is what gets him to fully release Omega.]

Cursed goddess! Still you hound me?!

Sorry, but I have no time to chat. Okay, smaller-than-me-but-still-Big-Guy! I've got-- Whoa! Okay! Okay! Okay--

[While Typhon roads, tumbling back and away into the void. She reaches out with her hands. Ropes of energy extend from the woman's arms. Grabbing onto Omega with some powerful grip strength... and dragging her down with him for the moment. Fortunately, she can save it, and pulls Omega into a controlled descent to the old Tartarus platform...

Where Ferdinand is being shoved out of an open portal. Alive and whole, and missing most of the wounds he'd accrued over the prior night. Right on time for Omega to safely touch down beside him. And for the winged woman to hop, skip, and lunge into a touchdown.]

Phew! Gave the gauntlets of Herakles a run for their money. [She brushes off her forearms, where golden gauntlets sit.] Are you both alright? ...Physically, if not emotionally. But I'm hoping it's both.

< Odysseus what /s >

[eeeonetwothree]

WHAT-?

[ He's not Typhon food? Why isn't he Typhon food? And who exactly is this?!

And...what happened to all the damage that he suffered?! And Ferdinand's blood, for that matter?! ]

WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO ME? WHO ARE YOU? WHY AM I NOT FACING OBLIVION?

[markofnobility]

[Ferdinand comes out reeling, stumbling around]

Whawhawhat? Who?

[He raises his fists like he's gonna fist fight the bird lady]

1/2

[raiseyoulikea]

Oooh, this is your first time dying, isn't it? Like Er or Alcestis who was saved when Apollo--

[There's a great roaring from above. The woman goes blank.]

2/2

[raiseyoulikea]

Right, stories can be later!

[She waves her hands, and a portal opens up before you. Different from the veins of Tartarus, this one glows gold.]

It's very safe, I promise! Now, in, in, in! Quick! I'll explain later!

[On the other side is... the actual area of this post. A bastion of junk, and also all of your dead friends.]

[markofnobility]

O...kay?

[he hops in cuz like, wtf he can't die more!]

[eeeonetwothree]

[ Omega...stays rooted to that spot. ]

NO.

I HAVE FAILED IN MY PURPOSE. I HAVE COMMITTED A TERRIBLE BETRAYAL.

I DESERVE TO BE PREYED UPON. LEAVE ME.

A day or so after arrival, invest(?)

[markofnobility]

[Ferdinand has had some time to cool off and put himself into some form of sanity. it's a tenuous thing though, he knows. He also has an idea of how to steady himself a little. At some point he wanders a little away from the group to do a once over of his physical condition. His body is healed and the blood and other mess of death vanished, but he is not unscathed. He spends some time prying himself out of first his ruined riding jacket, and then his even more ruined and bent armor. Moving around in the chest piece fucking hurts. He tosses it aside, and then sets to work with his gauntlets and greaves. They are less damaged- he could polish them up if he wanted and use them. But right now they feel foul to him. The once shiny steel corroded with sins long before he came here. The little wyvern wings on the greaves seem to mock him. Next comes his shirt. There are giant holes in it, which he eyes... he's not sure how patch-able they might still be, or if it's even worth trying now.

Stripped to the waist (thank the Saints Omega had not gone for his legs- his breeches and boots are mostly fine.) he goes over his flesh. New scars dot him- ones mostly healed even before he died. And the new one over his heart and out his back. Ha. They go well with the Sword of the Creator's nasty work on his side. He huffs. More rugged, right?

Once he's done going over his status, the armor is... honestly just tossed off the side of the platform. Bye bye. That done he goes exploring their surroundings, eventually stumbling on the Assal with a bitter laugh. He considers tossing it too... but he wants to be armed if Typhon comes back. His ancestor's shackles in weapon form can be retired once this is settled, he thinks.

The weapon slung over his shoulder he sets to wandering, peering at all the Stuff]

[eeeonetwothree]

[ Omega, also having had time to right himself after his talk with Ivilezlei, finds Ferdinand after he tosses his armor and finds Assal. He is as delicate and subtle as ever in his approach: ]

FERDINAND. WE MUST SPEAK IMMEDIATELY.

[markofnobility]

Oh? Well, speak. I certainly have nothing better to do.

[eeeonetwothree]

VERY WELL.

[ Omega pokes him squarely in the chest with a claw. ]

YOU MANIPULATED ME.

[markofnobility]

[He looks down at the claw, then up at Omega. His eyes are wide in surprise, but no confusion. It's as good as a confession]

Yes. I did.

[tailoredfate]

[Bad feelings don't often linger for Aglaea. Even before her soul started fraying, she doesn't let things fester. There are people she can't stand, few people she hates, but she just can't let that occupy too much of her mind. The negativity that sticks with her is only ever... inward.

So when she spots Ferdinand shucking his damanged clothes... without any hesitation or shame, she approaches. Right as he's pulling his shirt off.]

If you'd like some help fixing or replacing anything, I could lend my aid.

[markofnobility]

Hm? Oh! Aglaea... I-

[he's surprised that she is willing to speak with him, let alone help. He looks down at his shirt and jacket... but after a moment he reaches into the inner pocket of said jacket and holds something out for her.

It's a handkerchief. Well stitched and embroidered. Something intended to be nice, certainly. But torn brutally by something sharp; considering what pocket it was taken from and the scar on his chest, it's not hard to guess how it was damaged]

I... could only ask if you could repair this?

[tailoredfate]

[... Ah. Something in her eyes softens, just a little. She may not know the specific importance of the handkerchief, but she understands the importance. Such things are often passed through families, given to sweethearts... they're tokens of remembrance as much as they are accessories. So when she reaches out to take it, she does so as if he's holding something made of fragile glass.]

I can fix your shirt as well. Or make a new one, with what can be found here. It wouldn't be a bother.

[They have nothing but time right now, it seems.]

... I don't have my kit with me, unfortunately, so you'll have to make due with gold thread for this. Is that acceptable?

[markofnobility]

More than. As long as it is in proper state to return to Velvet, I will be content.

... I do not know how salvageable my shirt and jacket are. At least they blood did not come with them?

investigation!

[necromants]

[Though we've made it somewhere else and aren't immediately in danger thanks to Typhon anymore, it seems the recent events have riled Ivilezlei (Zvei?) in a way he hasn't been this entire time, not even as Zvei. While last week he was subdued and distant, lost in his own head, this week he's antsy and on-edge, trying to busy himself with looking through the various gathered spoils here and ignoring the warnings. While he's here, he may as well see if there's anything useful or particularly interesting; all things magical will hold his interest better than physical weapons, but arming ourselves might be a good idea, just in case.

He still keeps his distance from the others, of course. Partially out of respect for their space, partially out of a selfish desire to be left the hell alone, but this does not seem to be good for getting him to actually sit. Now that he no longer has any need to sleep, he simply doesn't.

So all in all he's having a real normal one and you're welcome to find him somewhere on the fringes of the group at any point during the week if you want to deal with him for whatever reason! He is also notably not heading to the tea party this time around, as he's more interested in going through all these stolen things.]

a day or so after arrival; witch's tea party

[tripartites]

[ after a brief time to recuperate and adjust to their new environment, and some help from aglaea to find the needed materials and set the space up, a large patched-together tent stands in a tucked-away section of the platform, measuring about 8 meters in both directions. upon entry...

well, should you accept what you're seeing, what could it be but magic? golden butterflies flit hither and yon near the top of the canopy, as the amenities of the previous parlor room seem to have been reproduced here.

welcome, once more, to the witch's tea party. the same rules apply. the moment the work is done, the invitations appear in the same way as before to announce the event's continuation, with butterflies leading the way to the tent.

the hostess seems a bit more haggard and wary than before, following recent ordeals, but the sanctuary remains the same. why not enjoy yourselves? ]

[markofnobility]

[ the butterfly he saw in the channeling room over a week back makes sense now. Is this what he would have seen if he had not fled? Too late to question it now.

Ferdinand is not just accepting his senses, he is indulging them, luxuriating in them. He spins in a circle, arms out and eyes bright.]

Beatrice! Oh, this is delightful! A finer tea parlor I have never seen!

[ yeah if anyone wants to join him for a cuppa (or maybe a fine whiskey later) and cards he is very welcoming]

[tripartites]

[ well, at being called beatrice, she stops for a second before an amused glint enters her eye and she lets out a quiet cackling laugh. ]

Oh, you flatter me, Ferdinand! I find that hard to believe... surely, any port would do in the storm you've weathered? [ she spreads her arms wide. ]

But welcome. Is there a blend you favor?

[markofnobility]

[Honestly he still does not fully understand the distinction between Sayo and Beatrice. Are they different beings like Mutsumi and Mortis? Or closer to a stage persona? He has no idea, but he assumes if she is unsatisfied with either name at the moment she will tell him.]

No, not at all! Anything bigger and more lavish would tip into gaudiness. And trust, I have seen my share of gaudy tea parlors.

Hmm... I like citrus teas if possible?

[tripartites]

[ neither, and yet also both. it's not something any facet of her really knows how to explain, just something that is. either way, sayo taps a finger to her chin. ]

Mm... perfectly possible. You'll find that the Golden Witch's tea collection has nearly anything you might desire. But ah, let me see...

[ she drums her fingers on the tea cart in consideration as she approaches it, and then snaps her fingers. golden butterflies form a small tin in her hand, as she begins to busy herself with preparation. ] This is a wonderful Earl Grey variation you may like. Ah, that is to say—it is a black tea blend flavored with bergamot oil, if you've had something like that. This particular blend adds in rose petals and a bit of vanilla...?