The Crossing Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thecrossinglogs2025-02-05 04:26 pm
thecrossingmods) wrote in thecrossinglogs2025-02-05 04:26 pm
Entry tags:
- !tdm,
- akatsuki no yona: soo won,
- attack on titan: frieda reiss,
- chronicles of osreth: thara celehar,
- danganronpa: makoto naegi,
- danganronpa: nagito komaeda,
- heralds of valdemar: need,
- mass effect: allynbee shepard,
- omori: sunny,
- overlord: arche,
- pathologic: daniil dankovsky,
- toilet bound hanako-kun: hanako,
- toilet bound hanako-kun: nene yashiro
TEST DRIVE #2
TDM #2
Welcome to The Desert, wayward souls.
It's good to see you again.
The TDM is game canon and will be active FEB—APR. For further details about the setting, please reference our current setting page. All the information there is fair game for this TDM.
It's good to see you again.
The TDM is game canon and will be active FEB—APR. For further details about the setting, please reference our current setting page. All the information there is fair game for this TDM.
arrival
— BENEATH THE RIVER ( NEW CHARACTERS ONLY )
CW: claustrophobia, being buried alive
If your journey is starting here, you begin as all others have, and all others will: in The River.
You awake in the dark and the damp, with pressure all around you. In this case, however, it isn't water that surrounds you— but earth. Specifically, it is mud made from the sand of the desert and the standing water of the sparkling white salt flat that The River has become, and it behaves like quicksand. It has you here, and it doesn't want to let go.
You aren't in any direct danger; you may or may not notice that you don't need to breathe down here (or at all). But that may be difficult to appreciate in the moment: immediately on waking, you are seized by what was perhaps your last memory— or, at least, the somatic feeling of it. Panic, terror, pain; or (depending on the circumstances) maybe peace, or relief. It is the moment of your death as told by your body's visceral, emotional response, and it won't stop until you pull yourself out of the mud.
You are close to the surface. Even a bit of lucky thrashing might be enough for you to break through the sludge, and crack the shell of salt above. But The River will not release you easily; it will continue to suck you back down until you are able to fully pry yourself free— or someone else is able to lend you a hand.
— BEYOND THE RIVER ( EXISTING CHARACTERS ONLY )
If you arrived here from the Cavern, you'll find that the cave you came from opens up onto a rocky cliff face, not unlike the one you may have found yourself settled in before The Crossing. From here you can see the sprawl of the Desert ahead of you: the Oasis tucked against the base of the cliffs, the endless dunes, and the wide, white expanse of The River — though it hardly looks like one now.
There is no city to be found among these cliffs, though. They are steep and rocky, with dry, loose sand making finding and keeping traction difficult. There is a narrow, winding path to the Oasis below, but it will take time to hike, and the sun is already hot and oppressive above you.
Theoretically, there's a more direct route... if you're feeling bold. The cliffs are covered in jutting striations (as if, say, carved by a massive river, or maybe a River) that make halfway decent handholds and footholds for anyone hoping to climb their way down instead.
Just don't change your mind too much. If you turn back, you may find that the path behind has become impassable or now leads somewhere else entirely. You don't ever see it happening, but it's almost as if the cliffs are rearranging themselves whenever your back is turned.
shelter from the storm
— THE OASIS
The Oasis, as well as the rest of the surrounding Desert, is bustling with life. (Or do plants and animals have a Journey they need to complete, too?) It's a green, if not lush, patch surrounding a small lake of fresh water, partially shielded by the arms of the cliffs from the winds blowing across the dunes.
There are creatures besides you making their homes here: from small, skittering mammals to circling scavengers. If you look closely, though, you'll find it's a bit of a mishmash, as if an ecosystem appeared rather than developed... and, depending on where you're from, some of it might even be recognizable to you.
Those of you that came from the Cavern might appreciate the return of natural light, though you might be disappointed to discover that day and night don't always arrive at the cadences you might expect them to... In fact, they don't seem to follow any recognizable or even trackable pattern at all. Some noon suns stretch on forever; some sunsets speed run straight into dry, cold night.
If that were all the unpredictability the Desert had to offer, it might be tolerable enough... but the weather proves to be just as erratic. One day is clear and bright, with wide-open skies; the next brings dust clouds and lightning storms rolling in from the dunes. (And when today might be half as long as yesterday, those swings add up.)
Luckily for all of you, there have evidently been others here before you, just like in the Cavern. There is a collection of shelters lining the Oasis, no more than huts designed to keep everyone within as cool as possible. There's less space than there was in the Subterranean City, but that means some things are easier to find... The huts are decorated just like the city was before it, as if in layers with the odd familiar trinket from your home stashed in a drawer or under a mattress.
shifting sands
— THE DUNES
The Ferryman is holding vigil at The River, as they always are. They have positioned themselves (and their Lantern) so that their Light casts over the Oasis— but that aura can only cast so far.
The Lantern's Light might not be quite so obvious here as it was down in the Cavern, drowned out as it is by the desert sun, but you can still feel when you approach the edge of its protection, the way the sense of comfort and safety wanes. Beyond it are the rolling dunes of the Desert, where wraiths gather in great numbers.
Those who have been paying close attention will recognize that these are not the same wraiths you encountered in the Cavern. Or, at least, none of the wraiths you encountered in the Cavern are represented here.
These wraiths are not the violent, wailing beasts encountered by some during The Crossing. They are just the same as the wraiths originally found in the Cavern: silent, insubstantial, and always watching. The ones who have found the Oasis prowl the edge of the boundary; the others wander the dunes as if lost. Or, perhaps, searching.
If you, yourself, wander the dunes, you'll find them at best difficult to navigate— or, at worst, impossible. You may be swallowed by a sand storm, or lose sight of your landmarks when descending into a valley between the dunes. You might find yourself somewhere you never expected to be... Or, you might just need to send a message out to the others for help finding your way home.
If your journey is starting here, you begin as all others have, and all others will: in The River.
You awake in the dark and the damp, with pressure all around you. In this case, however, it isn't water that surrounds you— but earth. Specifically, it is mud made from the sand of the desert and the standing water of the sparkling white salt flat that The River has become, and it behaves like quicksand. It has you here, and it doesn't want to let go.
You aren't in any direct danger; you may or may not notice that you don't need to breathe down here (or at all). But that may be difficult to appreciate in the moment: immediately on waking, you are seized by what was perhaps your last memory— or, at least, the somatic feeling of it. Panic, terror, pain; or (depending on the circumstances) maybe peace, or relief. It is the moment of your death as told by your body's visceral, emotional response, and it won't stop until you pull yourself out of the mud.
You are close to the surface. Even a bit of lucky thrashing might be enough for you to break through the sludge, and crack the shell of salt above. But The River will not release you easily; it will continue to suck you back down until you are able to fully pry yourself free— or someone else is able to lend you a hand.
— BEYOND THE RIVER ( EXISTING CHARACTERS ONLY )
If you arrived here from the Cavern, you'll find that the cave you came from opens up onto a rocky cliff face, not unlike the one you may have found yourself settled in before The Crossing. From here you can see the sprawl of the Desert ahead of you: the Oasis tucked against the base of the cliffs, the endless dunes, and the wide, white expanse of The River — though it hardly looks like one now.
There is no city to be found among these cliffs, though. They are steep and rocky, with dry, loose sand making finding and keeping traction difficult. There is a narrow, winding path to the Oasis below, but it will take time to hike, and the sun is already hot and oppressive above you.
Theoretically, there's a more direct route... if you're feeling bold. The cliffs are covered in jutting striations (as if, say, carved by a massive river, or maybe a River) that make halfway decent handholds and footholds for anyone hoping to climb their way down instead.
Just don't change your mind too much. If you turn back, you may find that the path behind has become impassable or now leads somewhere else entirely. You don't ever see it happening, but it's almost as if the cliffs are rearranging themselves whenever your back is turned.
shelter from the storm
The Oasis, as well as the rest of the surrounding Desert, is bustling with life. (Or do plants and animals have a Journey they need to complete, too?) It's a green, if not lush, patch surrounding a small lake of fresh water, partially shielded by the arms of the cliffs from the winds blowing across the dunes.
There are creatures besides you making their homes here: from small, skittering mammals to circling scavengers. If you look closely, though, you'll find it's a bit of a mishmash, as if an ecosystem appeared rather than developed... and, depending on where you're from, some of it might even be recognizable to you.
Those of you that came from the Cavern might appreciate the return of natural light, though you might be disappointed to discover that day and night don't always arrive at the cadences you might expect them to... In fact, they don't seem to follow any recognizable or even trackable pattern at all. Some noon suns stretch on forever; some sunsets speed run straight into dry, cold night.
If that were all the unpredictability the Desert had to offer, it might be tolerable enough... but the weather proves to be just as erratic. One day is clear and bright, with wide-open skies; the next brings dust clouds and lightning storms rolling in from the dunes. (And when today might be half as long as yesterday, those swings add up.)
Luckily for all of you, there have evidently been others here before you, just like in the Cavern. There is a collection of shelters lining the Oasis, no more than huts designed to keep everyone within as cool as possible. There's less space than there was in the Subterranean City, but that means some things are easier to find... The huts are decorated just like the city was before it, as if in layers with the odd familiar trinket from your home stashed in a drawer or under a mattress.
shifting sands
The Ferryman is holding vigil at The River, as they always are. They have positioned themselves (and their Lantern) so that their Light casts over the Oasis— but that aura can only cast so far.
The Lantern's Light might not be quite so obvious here as it was down in the Cavern, drowned out as it is by the desert sun, but you can still feel when you approach the edge of its protection, the way the sense of comfort and safety wanes. Beyond it are the rolling dunes of the Desert, where wraiths gather in great numbers.
Those who have been paying close attention will recognize that these are not the same wraiths you encountered in the Cavern. Or, at least, none of the wraiths you encountered in the Cavern are represented here.
These wraiths are not the violent, wailing beasts encountered by some during The Crossing. They are just the same as the wraiths originally found in the Cavern: silent, insubstantial, and always watching. The ones who have found the Oasis prowl the edge of the boundary; the others wander the dunes as if lost. Or, perhaps, searching.
If you, yourself, wander the dunes, you'll find them at best difficult to navigate— or, at worst, impossible. You may be swallowed by a sand storm, or lose sight of your landmarks when descending into a valley between the dunes. You might find yourself somewhere you never expected to be... Or, you might just need to send a message out to the others for help finding your way home.
no subject
As Dankovsky comes from such a secular region he isn't used to places that are so religious, his time in the Town-On-Gorkhon even being strange to him. He really isn't one for mysticism and such inclinations but others seem to hold so strongly to them.
"Ah, a surgeon, and a folk healer- A Menkhu, if I remember the word correctly." Danill softly corrects, though it's not much of a correction, "He cuts flesh and makes tinctures out of herbs, he has my respect and we worked well together. The language is some sort of Steppe language, I don't know the name of it, or if it even had a formal name."
no subject
"If it were a language, it must have named itself," Celehar says. "Though perhaps only in the practical way, as 'The language of the people of the Steppe'. That is the way of it with Ethuverazhin or Barizhese - our neighbors," he adds, for Daniil's benefit of the unfamiliar name. Names have power, even so simple a name as that."
He looks over Dankovsky, considering the shirt and the absent jacket, and asks, "Were the customs of the Steppe quite different? Your hair aside, your dress is more familiar than the others here." Need's apron is that of a working woman, unusual but not unheard of, but the others... some of their clothing is so strange in construction. Celehar, in the meanwhile - he certainly doesn't look fancy in his shirtsleeves, but he still has earrings, and the pins holding his hair coiled off of his neck have little glass-pearl decorations to them. And of course, it's impossible to miss how long he wears it.
no subject
"Indeed, a name does have power." He also agrees with that. "There was so much that those Steppe people, the Kin, muttered between themselves that I had no way to understand, you see. The language could have had a name that I just simply was never aware of. I suppose for now Steppe Language will suffice.
The clothing, depends. There were Herb Brides who were always dancing, did not wear much clothes to speak of. All of the Kin's clothes were not unlike ours but a bit plainer and thoroughly tattered and worn.
As for customs- yes, quite. The most bizarre I've ever come across. In another life I would have liked to have made a record of them. They refused to dig into the earth and cut flesh, even for life saving treatments such as necessary surgeries- unless you were a Menhku of course, as my friend Artemy was. Revered as a spiritual leader while feared and shunned at the same time... Yes, I do like to think someone would have make an interesting research paper on the subject of the Kin."
He feels a bit embarrassed, truthfully, having spoken so much, so he leaves a bit of quiet, for any comments and questions. Truthfully it should be Burakh himself who should be informing anyone about the Kin, but alas, Dankovsky himself would have to do, in his clouded imperfect judgement of the indigenous people.
no subject
"Respected, and yet held at arm's length... indeed, it is familiar. There are a thousand cults, among the Amalese, then further, through the Ethuveraz, but those who are not heretical hold the five in some regard - and yet the Ulistheileian distant, handling as we do the dead. And Witnesses more so, for speaking with them."
"... But I thank you, Osmer, for your recounting." Celehar clears his throat, in the end. "Have you found fragments of their works here?" he asks. "As you did in the catacombs? Or have you set aside that task?" He's really trying not to glance towards the cane.
no subject
He wonders more about Celehar's relationship to the dead. He's brought it up a few times. It's obviously a much different relationship than Dankovsky has to death, wanting to defeat it, cure it, he's a bit afraid it would be a matter of contention, and, well, he feels like he has so few friends here to begin with.
Dankovsky's wary of straining what he does have.
"I haven't found anything yet, actually." He answers, "Not for lack of looking, but I've also been exploring the Dunes. Have you found anything of note?"
More like depression wandering through the Dunes, but, you know, same thing.
no subject
Instead Celehar shrugs, letting the motion speak for him on the actual question of searching. "I am not inclined to," he admits. "The wraiths congregate on the edges, and I admit my concerns beyond our group settle on them." He hasn't even heard about the various ruins out in the desert, for instance - though he's done his fair share of depression wandering along the edges of the Ferryman's lantern.
"The descriptions of those that attacked you and the others away from the Ferryman's lantern are unsettling."
no subject
It's smart of someone to. Dankovsky has of course seen them through his various trips through the Dunes though he hasn't paid them much mind. They annoy him more than intrigue him. Is he still bitter that the one that injured his leg horribly used the voice of Eva?
Yes, very much so.
"Unsettling is a description for them." Personally he would use harsher words, "Have you noticed anything about them?" Dankovsky asks, and he has a feeling that the answer will be No, but it's worth asking, just in case.
no subject
"I cannot claim familiarity with all the ways spirits linger in the land, but they seem tied to nothing, and interested in little, besides us. They watch - when kept from the pools in the caverns, they began to grow restless, maybe even aggressive. They are a ghoul of the spirit, perhaps, rather than the flesh. A revetheralin, though the spirit's origin is unknown to us. Nevertheless, they hunger for something that they might take from us. Memories, vitality - something they lack." He sighs. "Maybe not even maliciously, but I still find it a danger."