EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

[aionmods]

The Empty Throne Pt 2

ESCAPE

As more and more of the prisoners awaken to the Pleroma's power, it soon becomes clear that conflict is inevitable. Strength that was locked away blossoms once again, and simply waiting is no longer an option; those that remain in the cavern have made their choice, and they will not be kept there so easily.

By means that may not be immediately apparent, the Pleroma have found themselves able to cast a spell that will ensure their freedom... but only if they can last the half hour it may take to complete. Whatever this power, Xishen, the Aion orchestrator of the Kenoma's ritual, seems able to sense it. As it begins, she will appear at each of the Kenoma's sides.

"The Pleroma has taken hold of them," she says. "Stop them now, or when you see them again, it will be as your mortal enemies. If you believe in the Kenoma's promise, take a stand. The Regent is watching."

For those that heed her, it will not be hard to find the congregation of Pleroma, the first seeds of their teleportation magic taking form. What's more, the fires of their hope have been stoked by this new chance at survival, granted them a surge of energy born of the Pleroma, compensating for the poor state of their bodies. The tension comes to a head, between those that would follow the Regent's path towards a better universe, and those that would seize the wild power of the Pleroma to escape.

Whatever violence ensues, eventually it will come to an end. Despite the Kenoma's efforts, the teleportation spell will come to fruition, enveloping the Pleroma in a sea of light and warmth. The Kenoma can only watch as fractals of blinding color whisk the Pleroma away.

VALLEY OF INNOCENCE

You will find yourself at the Shrine of the Innocent, surrounded by a valley of flourishing wildflowers. As you step from the shade of the monument, you will find your arrived here just in time to enjoy a warm spring spring morning, the sound of birds and gentle breezes tickling your ears. The sun slowly drifts past the horizon, its rays reaching out to you, as if in comfort. The air itself is alight with a strange aura of peace, as if committing violence here would be a sacrilege. There are no man made structures as far as your eyes can see.

Flowers of all shapes and sizes can be found here, and so can fresh water and various fruits and berries. All of them are safe to eat, and seemingly grow in abundance. There are animals here as well, all the common types one would expect from a place like Earth, with the occasional odd addition. While you can try to hunt them, you will find yourself unable to follow through on any attempts to hurt the creatures here. In turn, they regard you as familiar, and will fearlessly wander close as they inspect these new arrivals. In the distance, you may even catch sight of what appears to be a unicorn, only for its ephemeral shape to disappear from sight just as quickly.

The Pleroma will find safety and comfort here for a time, before they recover enough to travel onward. At some point during the afternoon of the first day, they may spot the occasional humanoid figure moving in the distance; when attempting to move in their direction, they will find an assortment of clothing set out across the grass as if in offering. It will come in many sizes but in mostly plain colors, fitting a general aesthetic of 'things a fantasy peasant might wear'. There will also be some blankets, wrapped cheese, jams, jerky, and bread left alongside them.

While there are trees and brush enough to find shelter, the Pleroma will find they hardly need to while resting here. The weather will be picturesque, a comfortable temperature even at night, and there will be no disruptive rain or aggressive wind. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and even though there could stay here for days, what if the Regent's forces are on their way? Once again, they must find the strength to carry on.

THE TRIWATER

As the Pleroma vanish, those claimed by the Kenoma are left in the darkness of the throne room. The Hylician soldiers are clearly agitated by the fighting, but Xishen herself seems unflustered. She will only sigh before quietly coming to the aid of any Kenoma that still need it, providing some light healing magics and explaining that their work here is over. With the Pleroma gone, all that's left to do is to return to Achamoth.

Things move quickly from there. The camp grounds are packed up, and soon enough the Kenoma will be ushered towards the river at the edge of the forest, to board a particularly large river vessel. As the Hylician soldiers prepare to go their separate ways, you will be told that you are to take the Triwater river to the capital city of Achamoth, where you will finally meet your new master, the Regent. The vessel is big enough for all of you, and it will set off the moment everyone is boarded. Suddenly, the world of entrapment and ruins you've been living in since your arrival will be left behind, leaving you to ponder the nature of your future.

The boat itself is well equipped and comfortable for what it is. A variety of colorful hammocks are hung in the lower decks and are open to be claimed for the journey back, which will take a day or two. The Kenoma will be offered a change of clothes of a similar style to what they already have if necessary, and there are plenty of blankets and cushions available to make life in the hold more comfortable. There are dice available for games of chance as well as some mystifying decks of cards that seems to have twelve suits with five cards each, themed around the Legacies. The twelfth suit is for the Regent.

Though the sailors controlling the vessel will mostly keep to themselves and leave the Kenoma alone, one of them will occasionally play harp music on the deck. Though they probably don't actually need help running the ship, they will let the Kenoma help them with chores and ship running tasks if they are so inclined; generally speaking, these sailors just seem like normal people, albeit a bit shy of their passengers. If you're polite to them, they may even gives you a river tour of Horos. On this ride alone, you'll get to see several magnificent bridges spanning the Triwater's width. At night, you are treated to a clear spring sky filled with stars.

As you make it closer to Achamoth, you'll notice the landscape shift, becoming mountainous and dotted with more and more military watch posts. The land becomes increasingly lifeless in a way that's hard to put your finger on, nature giving way to man-made creations of impressive architectural prowess. Soon, you will meet the person behind it all.

QUESTIONS

Can my Kenoma character fight against other Kenoma and/or help the Pleroma?
Yes, though if you do this you must describe what your character has done in a reply to the "Committed Actions" top-level below. This way, the mods can be aware of what happened and have your character treated accordingly. They are unlikely to receive immediate consequences if they don't hurt their fellow Kenoma, but their choices will follow them into Achamoth. If a Kenoma vs Kenoma conflict escalates into serious violence (attempted or successful) committed by the Kenoma rebel, Xishen will intervene and consequences will happen immediately which may restrict their actions until the next event post.

Can our characters leave the valley?
They can, yes, but really this event is just meant to cover the day or two they spend recovering before finding a more permanent place to go. You are free to have your character investigate the valley and probe the spaces beyond it, but please save any plans for large scale travel to the next event, which will be happening on April 2nd. The game will move into a 1:1 time ratio as of then.

Can our characters leave the boat?
Technically yes, but any Kenoma who wander too far will get in trouble. You are expected to report to the Regent, and behaving as if you are considering doing otherwise will not make an good impression.

Does the hope-based Pleroma boost last into the valley?
The boost to Pleroma characters will fade shortly after arriving in the valley, like coming down from a high. They'll have to recover the normal way from there.

Comments

[salvageable]

[ Here's the thing about Dokja: He knows how to put on a show. He knows how to be convincing. All that time spent catering to the whims of the Star Stream, making sure the constellations would take notice of him, and making them think they were the ones in charge have built up Dokja's stories and made him the person he is today.

(Albeit, a very broken person.)

So this? The fact that he can feel the raw strength of her grip wrapped around his neck and the ease in which she could crush him right there and then but doesn't?

He's a little late to pick up on it, but at least he eventually does. She's set the stage for him, all he has to do is play along as his lips part in a desperate bid to gasp in a scant amount of air. It's not enough, spots beginning to obscure his vision as the sounds around him grow distant and muffled, and the pain of having his throat constricted making it additionally hard to concentrate. At this rate, he'll lose consciousness and what kind of a poor performance would that be?

In an instant, thick white fur begins covering Dokja's neck, shoving its way under his opponent's hand to forcefully pry her grip loose. The use of Beast King's Sensitivity is to repel and protect him from physical harm and it works now to dislodge him from her hold where the wind can catch him and send him dashing to the side at an impressive speed to create some distance between them.

It's a reveal of too many of his abilities all at once, but he needs it at this moment. ]

[expiera]

[The signs are certainly piling up, yes. She already knew he lacked common sense. She knows about his self-perception issues, too. That crushing self-blame and self-loathing, yet a will to carry on in spite of it all. Even now, there's something uncanny yet familiar between them she can actively sense; that "priest" projected the same feel too, bore the same mark on his arm. All he's displaying now merely reinforces how messed up he must be. More than grasping onto what she's trying to do, he actively WANTS to get slapped around, doesn't he? Probably thinks he deserves it. He's definitely crazy. Takes one to know one, after all.

The sudden growth of beast-like fur has her eyes briefly narrow. Quick and admittedly wholly unexpected, it does free him and have her step back in turn. The arm that caught his punch is still numb, but nothing is terribly broken. The seemingly random array of his abilities... No, she doesn't know enough to draw any theories about the "how". It's simply notable enough from observation alone that they are numerous and varied; all the more testament to his experience, and reason for her to stay alert. He hasn't tried anything serious on her yet, however, just as the same is true for her.

...

Of course, she follows to give pursuit. He's the one playing bait here, to buy time for his companions busy with the teleportation spell. It's actually very convenient that he's gotten himself a protective fur growth around his neck now, because this means an otherwise exposed and fragile part of his body is now wide open to take on rougher abuse. So she obliges, unwinding the whip around her good arm and lashing out with more strength and velocity that human eyes can follow - towards the selfsame neck she had in her grasp mere seconds ago. It won't snap like a twig or bruise too painfully with all that fur, right? Perfect conditions to chain him like a unruly dog, who's been left to bark disruptively for a tad too long.

And once the whip finds purchase, winding around his neck and snapping in place like a lock, she pulls.

DOWN.

A show, right? Since it's such a zoo down here already to begin with?]

[salvageable]

[ The extensive use of Way of the Wind throughout numerous battles has fatigued him, causes him to stumble in his steps as he tries to get away. It leaves him wide open and vulnerable to an equal sort of speed, and it catches up with him now as he feels some length of the whip coil around his throat.

Before he fully registers what it is that's happening, Dokja crashes to the hard, uneven ground with the entirety of his weight, landing heavily on his injured shoulder from before. The pain ricochets throughout the rest of him, body seizing as it tries to grapple with the unbearable agony that momentarily whites out his vision and he opens his mouth in a soundless cry. In his daze, the fur recedes from his neck and disappears entirely, leaving an exposed and already sore throat to be further abused by the whip twisted around him. With so much pain wracking his body, he can't help but wonder what the hell he's fighting so damn hard for...? He could stop.

He'd wanted to.

It would be easy. The same way he'd pressed his disintegrating fingers against the glass of the subway train to speed up the process of disappearing despite the warnings of the Fourth Wall. The pain had been insufferable back then, too, his heart as scattered as the rest of him with the knowledge he'd been the one to cause all that suffering and death and destruction. He doesn't deserve to live with a consciousness.

... No.

It would be too easy.

Furiously blinking his vision back into place, he reaches up with desperate fingers to try and wedge them between skin and whip to allow him some breathing room as he twists to try and get his feet back under him. No, he can't stop here. He has centuries left to atone for. If he gives up now, if he loses his will to fight here, then he'll never be able to pay back what he owes with his miserable existence. ]

[expiera]

[...What a contradictory person. He knows he's done wrong. He knows he should be cursed a thousandfold by others all over. Yet he persists and keeps going, wouldn't permit himself the luxury of stopping. Hah... Is this what the Martyrs have in common?

But whatever his tenacity, his combat experience, and his masochism folly tell her are inconsequential right now, merely idle observations she may revisit during quiet moment sometimes in the future. For now, there's only a bruised and battered man on the ground with a whip mercilessly round around his neck, trying desperately to get it off the same way he struggles to simply find his footing on the cavern ground. Pitiful. ...And yet.

She saunters up to him in measured and unhurried steps, having loosened the whip just enough to let him talk if he really wants to. Back at the shrine and through the trip here, the soldiers were able to completely control them with these. She had no intention of using them this way when she first accepted the Hylician guards' offer, but now...

What's the point in holding back? She's done much, much worse. Accepted the Kenoma without caring about its objective or offer, because she understood immediately this is where the truly wicked belong. Besides, he's as good as asking for it anyway, isn't he? Wants to be punished, to suffer for whatever he's done?

Thus, the "test" continues.

GET ON YOUR KNEES.

She simply stares down at him with cold and emotionless blue eyes, as if observing a fly with its wings clipped. Well?]

[salvageable]

[ With the whip around his neck going slack enough for him to gasp in some much needed breaths, Dokja finally manages to get his legs under him to push himself back up to stand with shaking legs, one hand held on to the coil to keep it from tightening once more. He's worn down, and there's nothing in particular that he wants to say as his opponent steadily approaches, though a very honest anxiety starts to grip at his heart.

He doesn't know where it comes from, only recognizes it because of how often it's visited him before in the past. Immersion has completely taken over this role he's playing, and he takes a stumbling step back.

But then the command comes, deafening loud and clear, and Dokja finds that he has no control of his body as he goes crashing back down, his knees colliding against the cavern floor at her behest, every part and piece of him feeling too heavy to move. His eyes go wide in shock but that's about the extent of his reaction, his frail mind a blank canvas as if awaiting her next order to dash a mark across it.

He knows this. This is the same method that the Hylician soldiers had utilized to render him complacent when they'd first discovered him, and he's stunned now to find it working in the hands of someone who... had been just like him. Not only that, he'd recovered his powers and been able to fight back, so why...?

He needs to get back up (does he?) and fight (will he?)...

But why is it that his mind wars with him? ]

[expiera]

[WHAT is wrong with him? First he plays along, and now he's really just... given up? She can't bring herself to believe it, can't take it at face value. Not when he's clearly rejected the Kenoma in spite of his glaring mental instability, which means he has to have managed pushing aside the shadowed and accusatory ghosts of the past she's seen cling to him firsthand, back when she found him delirious and powerlessly debilitated.

Moments ago, he had outright proven that he's also endowed with strong superhuman powers he could easily use. Perhaps he stepped up to answer her taunt precisely because he knew there was at least something he could do, he did try talking first too. Yet he clung onto insignificant details that would only complicate matters for himself no mater how much she warned him, and now after exchanging a few half-hearted blows, he's reduced... To this?

Foolish and traumatized, deafeningly so. She recognizes the budding of mild irritation within her as irrational, but can't help feeling more and more annoyed despite acknowledging how tremendous of a mess he is. She knows she's not the reason he's crumbling, maybe an accelerator at most. Then what got him into such a state? When he seemed more than a little eager to talk shit just earlier?

Eyes still devoid of humanity, she saunters up to him until she's standing right in front of him. Reaching out to cup his chin with her free hand, she tugs it upwards to force his gaze into hers, as if inspecting a poorly performing mule or some diseased stray dog.

It's the most pitiful sight she's laid eyes upon since opening them to this world.

...]

Your name.

[It's not a question, but barely a beat passes before she continues.]

Think it if you can't speak.

[He probably can say something if he tries, but maybe he should also just save his breadth, considering. If she's already using him as her helpless little guinea pig, then may as well put the suggestion out there, hm?]

[salvageable]

[ Where to even begin with the exhaustive list of things wrong with him? This Dokja is just a shell of the person he used to be, incomplete and damaged beyond any hope of repair. His desperation to cling on to his life is for the sake of others, never himself. If he were to be given proof and assurances of their survival, he'd let go in a heartbeat. It's only guilt that draws his breaths now. Guilt and a madness that's gone unchecked for countless years. Thousands upon thousands of years.

He can suffer anything because he has suffered everything.

When she tugs his face up to meet his gaze, there's an emptiness in the pitch black of his eyes. Had it always looked so vacant? Up close like this, it's plain to see that the light had left them a long time ago.

While the whip has incapacitated his body, the fractured pieces of his mind are still there. He briefly debates refusing her demand, flippantly thinks for a second that it's mostly because his throat hurts so much that he doesn't want to say anything, but then he figures what the hell.

It's not like he's in any position to refuse. ]

... Kim Dokja.

[ His voice comes out in a rasp, and he forces the corners of his lips to turn upward. Not mockingly, not in a jeer, but in a cavalier manner as if reflecting back on how he's been acting throughout this entire ordeal. ]

You won. Now what?

[expiera]

[She's starting to get an inkling, whether she likes it or not. Just like that fool, this one is contradictory, too. For all the self-loathing and shameless flashing of masocidal a bright neon JUST LEAVE ME HERE TO DIE sign he may as well parade atop him at all times, he still fought, still chose as he had. Pleroma, as Xishen had called it.

Is this it, then? His show at buying time, the way he's opted to carry out his act?

What a troublesome and wretched creature, bitter and trashy inside AND out. It's always the stubborn and stupid ones. They'll take anything upon themselves for the sake of others, yet this one doesn't even have the decency to TRY appearing stable or reliable. Is that why she finds all this strangely irritating? Hm... It's not like her, regardless.

She's seen enough. That smile he manages comes off better put together than any other part of him right now, and that says quite a bit in and of itself, in her opinion.]

You're a mess, Dokja Kim.

[It's all he gets in response, while the icy cold look she previously bore falls flatter than an open can of soda left out for over 20,000 years.

...]

[salvageable]

[ You have no idea is the blithe response dying to roll off of his tongue. If Dokja were to be asked about his current state, he'd think he did a relatively good job? He could have certainly been worse, as frightening as the thought is. As it stands now, he depressingly pats himself on the back for holding it together as much as he had.

There had been a few touch and go moments, but that's what happens when the splintering cracks in his mind and soul are as vast as they are.

The fingers he has wedged in between his throat and the whip start working to try and loosen the hold while he remains in her grasp. He doesn't look even slightly bothered by her observation or the cold look in her eyes. They're nothing irregular for someone like him. ]

I've heard that before.

[ And he has. Many times over. From the people closest to him. ]

I'm not something you should bother yourself with.

[ The plain honesty in his voice is apparent. He really is nothing special, and it would be best to recognize that early on for the sake of everyone. ]

[expiera]

[She wrinkles her nose, as if smelling something unpleasant while appearing mostly polite about it. Why think back to the times when the people closest to him told him so, when he's clearly facing an enemy, a stranger at that?

A split second is all it takes. The whip blurs, and so does she. The next thing he knows, he's soaring through the air again, being sent crashing once more to the closest wall nearby with no consideration paid to his comfort. The painful contraction around his neck is released at the same time at least, it would seem that she's opted to unceremoniously throw him like a rag doll once more.

Except this time, nothing comes after. Once he manages to recover his senses, he'll no longer find her there. She's beaten him up quite a bit, and it would appear that she's had enough. Did she lose interest, or had something else catch her eye?

...It doesn't matter either way, so maybe he should take that as a good thing. Just stay there and rest up? He's probably seen better days, hm.]

[salvageable]

[ He's going to lie here for a good few minutes and hope he never sees her again, actually.

Bye, stranger, let's do that again never. ]