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
That's a good idea! Or maybe we could ask the Ferryman for horns or other instruments that carry sound across a distance, at least for those who cannot whistle.
no subject
no subject
...
You think Prelate Celehar couldn't blow a horn?
[How come?? Certainly, the elf seems thin and harried and not exactly in the full bloom of strength and health, but she's confident that he'd be able to manage that much!]
no subject
Could? Sure. He's got some kind of throat affliction, not a lung one. Would? He's very concerned with dignity and not looking foolish.
[having picked him up and carried him, she does think of him as small. Still, despite the words there's a definite affection to her tone.]
no subject
[Alas, if he'd refuse those first undignified attempts, there'd be no helping it... and with Sunny, too, set to object to the suggestion, given his weak overall constitution, it seems like they won't become a group of proficient hornblowers any time soon.]
But we can think about such measures once we've settled in, I suppose. First, we need to make sure everybody is accounted for and tended to. At least a couple of us sustained injuries. They seem to have healed already, but...
[Trailing off, she shakes her head. While Yusuke more or less shrugged his wounds off, she worries about Daniil, who seemed much worse for the wear and whom she assisted on the ascent from towards the daylight.]
no subject
...Not that I'm that familiar with spirit injuries, I have to say.
no subject
[If so, that's concerning! Certainly a matter to be raised, both with the toll-adverse and with the Ferryman.]
no subject
The worst case I saw was with a man who was called Black Flames in life. [Need he had a name-] In life he was a man. A terrible man, he stoked racial insecurities and played on that to get into power, kept it, disregard for laws and ethics, genocidal ambitions and so on, but he was a human being. He had things he cared about, he could genuinely inspire loyalty, he was... very popular with some broad demographics because he could actually appeal to them. And when he died he'd set something up. A refuge for his spirit to keep it from passing on and could plant him into the body of a blood relative, and he'd left plenty of descendants so those were plentiful. Then he'd take over, crush the host's soul, and live again until he died and returned to his refuge.
But this damaged him a piece at a time. After two thousand years of that [she makes a little twitch of her eyebrows, acknowledging, yes, I'm old] Black Flames was a cannibalistic beast with few motivations beyond the base, sadistic beyond all reason, who only suckered in a few handfuls of grasping sycophants and was substantially less intelligent. He thought in stereotyped paths and reacted in predictable ways, and he couldn't properly grasp that he had changed and why he wasn't as successful.
...Now I don't think we're in for that, that's a specific kind of damage, to be dying and inhabiting that refuge and destroying other souls over a long period, and to have started out as a genocidal dictator. And we may not be spirit motes at all, it takes a massive amount of work to get them to appear this much like flesh.
no subject
...
He passed his spirit on like my ancestor passed his will on.
[It's not the same, she knows that, but hearing what the Black Flames did described as take over, crush the host's soul, and live again sends a chill down her spine. Is that what happened to her..? No, no. Her ancestor merely wanted to chain down the immense power safeguarded by his bloodline. His intentions weren't selfish, she knows that. (So then why did he flee into exile, leaving part of his people behind to atone? Why did he ask for a century of peace, knowing that the judgement day would come after the end of his life?)
She forcibly puts those thoughts aside - she can't overlay her own problems over what Need is telling her.]
I certainly hope that this isn't what's happening to us. It seems irreconcilable with the Ferryman's stated mission.
[But of course, that once more raises the other question she's heard repeated in quiet murmurs among the group: Can they trust the Ferryman?]
no subject
[Need is keeping the degree of distaste that she has for Frieda' ancestor to herself. It absolutely is influenced by her dislike of the entity who had been Ma'ar, Mage of Black Flames and Emperor of Predain, but she's aware that the situation is at least a little more nuanced, even if there's a lot she doesn't get.]
Well. It's irreconcilable if you assume it's happening to those who Cross with them. If it's what's happening to those who make their own way and get attacked by wraiths, then - the main problem is not telling us beforehand that that's the risk.
no subject
...
I'll raise the matter with the Ferryman. If nothing else, we deserve to understand the full extent of the risk we expose ourselves to when we decide to 'cross' on our own.
[Of course, for those who already got hurt, it may be too little too late.]
no subject
[But it's certainly what comes to mind, knowing that they are already dead.]
Probably a good idea. I'm reluctant to just tell everyone this spirit-motes theory without a bit more information.
no subject
[It's comforting to have somebody here who's witnessed a comparable amount of history as herself, someone with whom she can casually talk about things that happened centuries, if not millennia ago... though as they continue their descent into the desert, she can't help but wonder:]
Did you hear of the Black Flames' tale, or bear witness to it yourself?
[Whether to all of it, or only to the man's eventual fall.]
no subject
[Need looks at Frieda sidelong a moment, wondering how much she should admit to. Hm, well, this King of the Walls stuff certainly is dramatic enough that she might be believed. And Frieda seems like she knows what 'discretion' means.]
And for the beginning, too. I was advising a professor at a medical college in Predain when the Black Flames was coming to power. He went and became Prime Minister and I knew the kinds of things he'd promised.
no subject
As Need suspected, she takes her admission of having seen the entire chain of events unfold in stride without any signs of shock, though her brows still furrow a bit.]
You were human, then, at the outset, and a sword when he fell?
[The next question on her mind feels like an accusation, and she's hardly in a position to ask it, having felt the memories of her ancestors - less-than-revolutionary Emperors and Empresses included - like her own, but after a moment of weighing her options, she decides to go ahead with it, her tone carefully polite. Need, so far, as never taken offence to anything she said.]
Why did you not intervene sooner if his rule brought so much suffering over the people? Was there no suitable wielder?
[There are countless plausible answers, and she's ready to accept any of them - it's hard, incredibly hard, to act against a powerful ruler without paying a high price. She would know - from the ruler's perspective.]
no subject
[Need transfers the outer layers she'd had folded over one arm to the other, and indeed, does not take offense.]
If I'd had the right information, I might have been able to step in early and kill him, sure. Hindsight is wonderful. But there's a few points to consider.
Point the first: He had inherent talents and made enough connections such that well before he'd started talking about the "master race" in public he was one of the two most powerful mages in the world. Much more powerful than I am, my skills are - were - in healing and subtlety, not blasting things to pieces, and I hadn't learned a lot of what an assassin needs to know yet. So I would've had to get there early indeed.
Point the second: Getting that right information. I don't have any gift for seeing the future, but those who ''have'' it say that the farther out something is, the less certain they are of it. Seers try not to monitor electoral politics because it's unpredictable and there's all kinds of people who can become the most awful tyrants or slip totally out of the public eye. By the time it was evident just who he was and what he could do, well, remember point one.
Point the third: The dead shouldn't rule the living. We've had our chance. We have to support them and honor their choices and their world. If I'd taken the time to deeply evaluate everyone who sought leadership and assassinated any of them who looked iffy... that's overstepping my remit. Someone would have to stop me.
Melysatra and I joined his opponents in Tantara, organizing with the other most powerful mage in the world. Silence... [She grimaces.] Was a much kinder person to be sure but had his own problems.
no subject
Thank you for all you did - if I may say that, not being of your world. It's hard to put up active resistance against injustice, and harder yet to see the early signs, not when the ones you're up against are initially reasonable, and eloquent, and well-connected, and resourceful.
[She goes quiet, feelings like she's said too much already and overstepped her position, given who and what she is.]
no subject
It's what I have to strive for. I like to think that some of the things I, and other people too, did had some wide-reaching effects, such that there are horrific atrocities we've never known about because we prevented them so completely. It's hard to know. We've all just got to do the best we can with what we have.
Worlds do exist where a given person will become a prominent figure no matter what, and the future's just got however many set paths. In mine, mostly people can choose. For good or ill.
Honestly, mostly I work on a smaller scale and I prefer it that way. It's simpler! Unfortunately, even when you're at a smaller scale there's always larger context.
no subject
I wish I'd had the foresight to choose the smaller scale. But the hindsight was part of the prize, not a precondition.
[Not wanting to dwell on her own fate and take away from Need's tale, she instead focuses on the descent for a moment as they pass by a steep section. By now, the oasis is near, and whether it's a real difference or merely a feeling, the air seems a little cooler when she looks at the bright blue water.]
...
Now, we're forced to operate on a small scale. Perhaps, that's one of death's mercies.