idolpro | Shrike's Heart (#3)

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!heart games

Shrike's Heart (#3)

The woman before you is beautiful—fair of features, with lovely golden skin and luxurious long black hair, petite. You have the immediate and distinct impression that she's just let go of your hand, and she steps back, and smiles.

It's not quite a happy smile.

"I'm sorry," she says. "There's just nothing I can do, as things are. But the way is there; it just needs to be lit."

You open your mouth—maybe to say something, or to express confusion—but you have to cough, and taste something metallic, spattering black blood onto the ground in front of you. Then you realize—blood seeps from opening wounds in your arms, your chest, your stomach, your face. It rims your eyes and trails from your nose and you feel like you're dissolving—

—and you fall through the ground like it's the surface of a lake, and go down, down, down.

> Wake Up

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Both Imeeji and canon powers are OFF. HOWEVER, you now operate on wuxia movie logic and are understood to be competent with whatever weapons you choose to use, including bare fists.

All characters in the run occupy the same spaces, so you can talk to each other.

You begin with 0 WILLPOWER. Upon completion of certain activities, you will gain more, including but not limited to the below:

1. Pay proper respect to the dead - close their eyes, say a prayer over them, and so on, twice per area.
2. Spill the blood of others.
3. Accept the advice of the Neverborn, at a cost.
4. Experience a moment of peace.
5. Display a moment of great compassion, valor, temperance or conviction.

To perform certain activities—things that are toward the cause of life—you will be told you need to SPEND an amount of willpower to do it without incurring the WRATH OF THE VOID. It is not usually a bad idea to spend the Willpower when asked.

If you don't know what to do, you can ASK THE ADVICE OF THE NEVERBORN once per area. Their advice may be somewhat questionable! But it may get you in the right direction and following it will net you Willpower. Otherwise, poking around in the environment and talking to anyone you might find around is not a bad idea; depending on the action and the intent, any action taken might be useful.

You are instinctively aware that these will help do what the woman at the beginning asked you to do.

Try and fulfill as many as possible but you only need to fulfill five.

1. Do not accept mercy.
2. Preserve something for the future.
3. Decide what's important and protect it.
4. Encourage growth.
5. See the sun rise.
6. Write a letter home.
7. Find strength amid fear.
8. Make a house a home.
9. Don't die.
10. Give Sorrowful Blade of the Softly-Falling Blade her name.

Many of these are abstract and can be fulfilled in multiple ways (apart from the last two), but consider that they should probably be fulfilled in the spirit of a way Shrike would interpret it.

Once at least one person has completed an objective in an area, the way ahead will be clear to the whole group, but you will not be able to return to previous areas.

You may also want to pick up items you find along the way; they might be useful later.

go here

Once, there was a maiden...
...who lived in a tomb, and the tomb was made in her image.
Because she lived in a tomb, she became like the dead.
She slept, and dreamed.
And sometimes, woke, and walked within the confines of her tomb.
"Why do you move?" her own ghost asked. "Why walk at all?"

[ You hear the voice of the woman from before distantly, and then silence.

At first, it might seem like you have your eyes closed—it's so dark, but no. This world is sunless, lightless, silent; low, dark water covers the ground, although, it's a little hard to tell there's water, because—

—because what also covers the ground are corpses, as far as the eye can see. Some of them still have their eyes open; some have obvious wounds, and some don't. Some hold weapons in hand, and some have weapons driven through them.

This is a place for the dead. What does that make you?

But you can move, and sit up, and stand up, if you have the stomach for it.

Some distance away, you can hear water moving, like there's an uphill or downhill, and there's a vague sussuration at the edge of your consciousness that you instinctively strain to listen to.

You are also aware of the objectives and rules, instinctively. ]

[ And then, inexplicably, a light appears at your feet, extending out into a single gold line—and there, a path, spiraling up onto a long, long staircase you couldn't see before. Maybe to somewhere other than here.

"I am not trapped while yet I run," says a voice.

Perhaps you'd better.

Proceed. ]

Edited 2020-02-20 19:39 (UTC)

Once, there was a maiden...
...falling forever in the water. She reached for purchase, but found nothing; her arms swung through the sea.
The water did not slow her, nor the chill,
but she could not breathe.
Each time she gasped and found no breath, a human child died; and thus, she lived.

[ As you go, the ground slowly grows marshier, softer, and smells creep in. They're ordinary earthen smells—peat and damp and marsh, but there's a hint of the metallic tang of blood, and the acrid note of smoke in the distance.

The clang of metal rings out to your ears as you emerge from a reed bed next to a small, algae-choked pond, but it's clear the bulk of the fighting has long been over, from the only intermittent cries and the way you can see thatched roofs smouldering.

Though, nearby, there's a rustle from the same reeds you came from—like you're not alone. ]

[ "Survival is acceptance," a voice says.

And the same gold line unwinds from your feet, and into the fields beside the village, off into the distance. You don't have to follow it this very moment, but you can.

Proceed. ]

Edited 2020-02-20 19:40 (UTC)

Once, there was a maiden...
...whose battles called her far from home.
She slew the thing she feared most, and conquered the land that feared her.
As she fought, far away, she knew her children needed guidance.
She knew they faced tyrants.
She knew they faced fear.
In her homeland, things were broken.
So, she held up her hand before the sun, and cast a shadow on the world, and drowned the troubles of her home in darkness.

[ There's blood on your weapon, you realize—the weapon you hold in your hand, and if you didn't have one before, you have one now, whether it's sword or axe or war fan or chakram. It's no surprise from the bodies that lay in the trampled-down field behind you. It looks like it used to be for growing, but now nothing will grow there again, probably, even though a few bags of seeds sit aside it.

A clatter; one of your soldiers tosses another sword atop the pile of discarded enemy weapons.

Ahead of you lies the small border city that your forces have just conquered. ]

Edited 2020-02-20 19:40 (UTC)

["Survival's a long reach," a voice says.

A bright line draws from where you stand, then to the doors of the local militia's barracks—now empty—leading you ahead.

Proceed. ]

Edited 2020-02-20 19:42 (UTC)

Once, there was a maiden...
...and things didn't go so well for her.
It was just the way of the world, you know?
She had to give up power to get it, and she didn't get much.
Some people hated her for getting any power at all.
She needed a protector,
so she gave herself to a man named Necessity.

[ Opening the door leads to a small barracks-hall, with about six very tidily-made cots—though it doesn't seem to be the same barracks or location at all, in the midst of a large army camp. Next to the single door is a plain desk made of dark wood; atop it are writing supplies, including one letter that seems to have already been written.

Outside, it seems to be evening getting on into night; the sun's fading fast. ]

[ "Love is hard," a voice says.

Once again, the golden line sparks to life at your feet, drawing its way out of the barracks and through the camp. You find it leads you to the Commander's office.

Proceed. ]

Edited 2020-02-20 19:44 (UTC)

Once, there was a maiden...
....made from a lump of iron, shaped by wind, sea, and fire.
Fearing how wood might shape her, she ran, and did not look back.
One day, she forgot what she ran from.
So, she pulled out her heart to ask it.
"Why don't you look back and see?" it said.
So, she sighed and threw her heart away.

[ When you open the door and step through, you find yourself in a house—built in a somewhat antique style, a single level, but decorated with expensive yet practical taste. On one wall hangs a well-maintined longsword, and a number of military decorations.

Through the windows and out a set of doors on one side is a paved area surrounded by tall, broad-leafed trees. At a distance, there's also the sound of boots marching in unison between the pitter-patter of rain just beginning to start.

The atmosphere here feels... tense, in a way that doesn't seem to come from any one thing; but it doesn't quite feel safe here. ]

[ "I have no use for beginnings," a voice says.

The bright line draws its path once again from the door of the house, down into the road and following a path—chasing a caravan that was once setting out from the south lane.

The beasts of burden have kicked up dust, though, filling the air, and obscuring the view, until...

...proceed? ]

Edited 2020-02-20 19:43 (UTC)

Once, there was a maiden...
...who fled a shadow, in the company of a friend.
They traveled through strange places, and among strange people.
"How can you trust me," he asked, "with such horror behind you?"

[ Where you are isn't clear. But ahead of you, a woman stands in low, clear water under a grey sky. She's tall, and her bone-white hair is done up in a crown braid. The clothes she wears are plain, and in her right hand she holds a large sword. ]

Edited 2020-02-21 06:38 (UTC)

[ frowns. like, immediately. because this is a lot of corpses, and she hasn't had to come face to face with this many in, like, forever. she gets to her feet, staggering, and keeping the curse on the tip of her tongue as she wanders forward. she's careful, and mindful of as many of the corpses as she can be, but she's heading for the nearest body with a sword, because she's going to take it. ]

What the absolute fuck.

[Didn't we do this once already?

[K gets to his knees; he wonders if it counts as grave robbery to borrow a knife.]

Shrike...?

[Nemesis pushes to her feet once she realizes she is awake--her eyes are open, glasses on, there's just very little to see. Less she actually wants to look at; this is familiar, somehow, though she--somehow--pauses to listen closely, to be sure]

[ You stand, and find your footing amongst the dead. Water might soak into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

N o one responds to you, specifically, but the whispering just at the edge of your hearing grows a little more distinct. It's like they're coming from somewhere, a little ways away. It feels like you should follow, eventually, but it's not urgent. ]

[ You stand, and find your footing amongst the dead. Water might soak into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

The corpses stretch for some distance—all real-seeming, distinct faces, still and ashen in complexion. Some seem like total strangers, or perhaps vaguely familiar at best.

Mixed in with all of them are the bodies of your fellow idols—you might see your own face mirrored there, though for whatever reason, it seems wholly unfamiliar, if unsettling.

What is true of every corpse here, though, is that all of them have their eyes wide open. But you can definitely find a sword. That's easy enough; there's loads of them.

The whispering just at the edge of your hearing grows a little more distinct. It's like they're coming from somewhere, a little ways away. It feels like you should follow, eventually, but it's not urgent. ]

[Staggering up, a little overwhelmed by all the corpses because aaaaaaaa ???]

Wh. . . what is this?

D.Va?

[Someone else is alive here.

[That's a distinction, at least.]

[ You stand, and find your footing amongst the dead. Water might soak into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

The whispering just at the edge of your hearing grows a little more distinct, as you listen—

the foundation becomes the rot becomes Nowhere

unbecome and become and unbecome

—there's always an ending.

...yeah, that's familiar.

It's like they're coming from somewhere, a little ways away. It feels like you should follow, eventually, but it's not urgent. ]

[ WHAT IS THIS INDEED.

You stand, and find your footing amongst the dead. Water might soak into your shoes, but it doesn't feel cold, here.

It doesn't feel like anything.

The whispering just at the edge of your hearing grows a little more distinct. It's like they're coming from somewhere, a little ways away. It feels like you should follow, eventually, but it's not urgent. ]

[Ugh...]

--Shrike? You here!?

[...so much for stealth]

[ You don't get a specific response—just, well, more whispering. The water sound is probably... somewhere ahead of you, though? If you squint, there's a vague outline of something large, like a wall or a cliff face, in the distance. ]

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Shrike's Heart (#3)

RULES

OBJECTIVES

WILLPOWER/OBJECTIVE TOTALS

> START

A PATH

THE RUINED TOWN

A PATH

THE BATTLEFIELD

A PATH

THE BARRACKS

A PATH

HOME

A PATH

ELSEWHERE

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