"Enki Ankarian, Observer. Scholar of secrets, magics, and the unknown."
The man as thin as a splinter and as bent as a tree himself watched a steady drumming of fingertips on the table. His eyes from the back of his skull were exceedingly dark and too aware of the world around him.
His companion for the last precious few hours looked up, trying to see what was meant to have fallen by now and Enki looked back to him.
"Child of Sylvian and Gro'goroth, tell me what exactly your challenge is, and I'll partake in it, gladly."
He turned his palm to fold his bony fingers inward, the subtle shift of a centipede crawling over his knuckles and back into his sleeve a soft slither.
In a quiet room of the inn, there is someone sitting at a table. Something about his appearance... lacks dimension. He stares forward, barely seeming to register the arrival of another.
đ¶ Stop shaking. đ·
His greeting sounds synthetic, and his every letter is punctuated by a "blip."
đ¶ The only thing you have to fear is your own inadequacy. đ·
The spindly figure sliding into a old lacquered chair across the figure mostly shrouded in shadow was pale as a corpse, and just as bent stiff as one. Enki Ankarian had played games with many creatures, and won many of those games in tests of wit and skill. He had lost just as many to Rher's creatures whose riddles operated on their own playing field.
"Agreed, sojourner."
Enki placed a hand on the table, his other empty sleeve sagging in his black high collar jacket.
Multiple voices spring up in the quite room of the inn. It came from the ceiling ringing like a very nosy bell. Looking up the creature was resting on the scaffolding like a lazy cat, possibly had watched them this whole time while resting in this room.
Their painted face was staring at the messy work Enkin had sprawled all over the floor then at the decrepit man himself.
"What is that anyway? Trying to get out of this place?"
Curious they peered over the structure a bit further but kept their distance.
Enki stood tall, looking up to see a violet creature, voice flanging into many. Even from a distance, he could feel a heat from it, and a passive aura of calm that defied the surroundings they were currently experiencing. Ankarian called magic to his fingertips, calculating the expense of sanity he would likely lose against the possibility of casting a spell against the horned thing.
It looked like one of the walking bodies that infested the Golden City, but much more aware of its surroundings and without a demonic embryo dragging behind it.
And it was cognizant.
"No. That is impossible at the moment. But what is not, is moving through this demiplane. Speak quickly, and quietly, or pass me by. I will gladly bring destruction to you."
Was it another of Rher's demons? It certainly could be, with the odd smell in the air.
He shied away from a lot of these glances when they were younger. They'd sat together several times and he hadn't given much more thought to her lying on his shoulder beyond that because they couldn't. Her ambition clashed with his loyalty. Daud's life couldn't be a bargaining chip with him. He didn't want to make that choice, and so he didn't.
"Thank you."
That made him sigh, and looking up, he couldn't hide his eyes under the hood. He got older, got stranger, and was mostly in his own sphere despite enough friends that called him dependable.
He didn't regret not pursuing her when they were younger. Lurk then, and Lurk now? They were in different places in their lives. In the Whalers any kind of affection was usually brief. Galia and Rinaldo had been soulmates for sure, incorporating him into their flings whenever Galia had the itch for it.
Lurk kissed him and he just sighed at it all. Maybe 41 was too soon. They could've gone sailing. Maybe they still could.
"She's in the lobby. The bookkeep set up some kind of portal system to move from room to room."
And as if on cue, there was a creaking like something expanding, and Thomas cast a glance behind them to see a door at the top of the steps.
Thomas looked up to her, and bent back down to pull the mask back over his face and tighten the buckles.
Back then, and even now, always a longing. Thomas got her on a level her casual flings could never. He was so fiercely loyal to their cause, dependable in everything he did, and even when they were 'off-duty' he was a quiet shoulder to lean on.
He was always her closest friend and confidant next to Daud. She was young and arrogant, though. Whenever anyone tried to punch above their station, she was always sent in to flatten them out on the floor, and she took pride in that power.
A little too much pride, something that made her easy to manipulate. She acted too soon, too fast, and people got hurt for it.
Too many people... Friends and lovers alike, because she couldn't keep a lid on her ambition.
It was that sole regret that generated the facsimile before Thomas now- The sole regret that seemed to earn Billie Lurk a death sentence within the buildings halls... and yet that same facsimile now stood ready to talk, following him up the stairs to the newly conjured door.
"Whoever built this place- Sokolov would probably get a kick out of it." It's a passing comment as she finally passes through the door. Her outfit seemed to be shedding petals as she walked, those vines loosening more and more.
When the lobby finally comes into view, the older Billie is absolutely there, laid out on the small couch while she waited for a wave of nausea to pass. Near her sat a tall, gaunt faced man in black robes and long gray hair- Enki, she remembered, but barely had the chance to speak with him while she was fighting for balance.
Had she known this would be happening, she wouldn't have started on those medical treatments so quickly.
The bent man, Enki, was teeming with insects. Instead of giving him a dirty appearance, they seemed to clean his hair to a polished silver, the rest of him about as present-looking as a pile of bones. His dark eyes landed on the two new members to the madame's cult of personality, two of Daud's precious people, and he quirked a brow at the woman in red wreathed in vines and wilting flowers.
"Hmm..."
He had been reading a book when this happened, and at this new interaction, he snapped it shut with an overtly aggressive thunk, and disappeared it with a wave of his hand.
"I see you've found a dream that isn't lost of sanity. How lucky for you. Be mindful that you are in the reach of Enki Ankarian, and that reach can dismember your head from your neck with a thought."
Enki turned his head to the poor creature on the lobby couch. He had muttered some prayers to Sylvian to keep her alive, though if she died, he avowed to use her body for another portal.
Waste not, want not.
A red, hellish portal was opened within his reach, humming and casting everything in a red, eerie glow.
Thomas vanished in a blink to hover beside the arm of the couch, his posture bending to watch down over her.
He finished cleaning his curved black ritual dagger on the clothes of the last idiot that had run past, screaming and bringing that big ugly behemoth this direction. The red of his blood had congealed into the gateway connecting this liminal space with the rest of them- at least for now.
He socketed the blade comfortably in its sheath on his belt. Now. To wait for his own pathetic facsimile. Or anyone else that managed to creep through his little marks.
The man, in all his otherworldly, was definitely a complete and utter stranger that probably had to do with this place just as much as himself. Be it as it may, his strange danger sense were worn the hell out.
"Is there a limitation keeping the portals from reaching outside of the Inn?"
He found himself asking as he stood, dusting off the cobwebs and dust. The vents were convenient to a point but the portals were far more charming. And frightening. Whatever powers this man had would be a benefit to have on his side.
Whatever it takes, he can't last on his own!
"I can be more than useful, the way I traveled laid out nearly all the rooms on the first floor. The hallways change but the vents don't."
"The Inn seems to resist any movement, translocation or teleportation between the "outside" and the "inside". My guess is that it is its own separate world entity entirely, and thus, operates under those rules. So, when the conditions are correct, then one leaves it."
The man rose from the chair to his full height, a startlingly thin thing, and he moved to the sunroom table, unfurling the paper in its entirety.
"Finally, something actually useful. I have already collected details on an antique room and one of what seems like many labyrinths."
Enki drew two representative squares himself, and waved a hand. The pencil continued his previous lines on its own, writing by itself as he continued.
"The vents do not change. A useful fact. What did you discover so far? And who are you?"
His blood was rushing to crash against his ear drums. His thoughts were just the same, swirling and slamming into each other. What was this place? The hallways were interconnected in certain ways that only made just enough sense to not give you a massive headache.
But that's it.
Where this place wasn't as important. Getting out was still the top of the list but that meant going through a version of him more keen on bashing his head in. How was he supposed to reconcile with a creature like that? He'll have to figure something out.
Which he'll get to once he finally get out of the vent where he's escaped into. As safe as it was, the sounds did use the space as tunnels. He could practically hear every scream and shout from several rooms echoing within the chamber and he wasn't going to let a chance of getting out slip from his hands.
A vent opening had finally came into view and with some careful movement and adjustment, he managed to kick the the vent open. Whatever was on the other side would be handled--
Which turned out to just be an old man who's made his own shelter. Or this was going to be some sort of epicenter for some showdown if the red light was any warning.
"I-- come in peace," He finally spoke though maybe that wasn't the best thing to say, "Is that red... light your doing?"
A very identifiable 'thwup' of paper followed by a glare from a bent figure in an overstuffed lounging chair was what Enki Ankarian introduced himself with to a brand new intrusion in the room. The cacophony happening all around him was muted and distant here, and he had been minding his own self while the bugs of the place whispered details about it to him.
"I see," he started, as a young man fell into the room and swore he came in peace. The man in the chair was a wraith of a person, dressed entirely in black clothing, a heavy coat and black pants. His hair was incredibly long, and silvery, receding from his skull and teeming with small insects that were flitting between the strands.
"Well you could have arrived much quieter if you intended to be peaceful."
He sniped the comment, looking the young man up and down. His sunken dark eyes blinked slowly, unamused, and unimpressed.
"Yes. The Blood Portal will traverse you through the rooms. I will allow you to use it if you trade to me the layout of where you have come from. Be useful."
Enki did not move from his spot, setting the paper on his knee to draw a long pipe from his coat and begin the process of fishing some sanity restoring herb from his many pockets.
The halls in this place were long, and liminal. Spaces expanded into places that made no sense. The furniture smelled of mothballs and he heard footsteps infrequently mashing on different floors of the expansive space. Screams, shouting. What a madhouse.
Enki had settled in a dust-ridden chair, lousy with earwigs, and had collected a large piece of newsprint on which to begin sketching rudimentary map of the space.
Using an offshoot of the lobby, a sitting room overlooking the courtyard and a wrathful mist as a temporary safe haven, Enki had set up a blood portal, the red energy stretched in the oval boundary pulsing every once in a while and staining the atmosphere of the room red. He folded the newsprint over itself, sketching out a shape for this spot.
If it was to be believed that emptiness in his ribs had a source and tether. Magic to split a person into facsimiles had been performed and successful before, and it was not unheard of. The fact that he was once again in the midst of a soul splitting was frustrating.
Well. At least it was relatively quiet. Apart from the screams.
For Rooted, Enki will not and can not engage with his past self, as part of his past self is his "New God" self. A part of him that canonically ascended, and stagnated instead of truly becoming an Enlightened Soul. This Ascended form is incredibly powerful, but simultaneously destitute.
Enki will not and can not look at this and not consider it a true failing of his youth.
And the New God can't abide by the idea that he was wrong. Enki has already canonically refused his ascendance once, becoming a truly wise man. He will do so again.
For Enki there is no reconciliation, because it was a mistake that he acknowledges as defining him. Seeing himself again in this lowly state is disrespectful.
This event is a sequel to KNOW YOURSELF! We recommend reading the event post and the conclusion if you were not in the group at the time.
Itâs the sound of the keyboard clacking and the sound of a bag of chips sneakily being consumed, repeated. Orion is locked in. She has a mission, and the mission is to help the people at the Inn! Thereâs a goal in mind. The goal? Make the inn a more welcoming, peaceful, and ideal place! âAaaaaaaaaand there--oops.â Itâs a definite oops as she deadpans, looking at the mistake sheâs made. A simple wrong button pushed, and now things are a complete mess.Â
âI need help.â With a sense of urgency in her body (not so much her face), she rushes over to two people she feels may be able to help. âAndromeda. I need help. I made a mistake.â Andromeda is snacking on some delicious snacks. Ah, she wants some, but refrains from asking.Â
It usually took a lot to get Andromedaâs reactionâ not even Orionâs desperate calls for help could take the starletâs attention off of their delicious prawn crackers⊠but curiosity did allow their eyes to flicker upward, staring at the screen without much of a reaction.
But if Orion looked close enough, sheâd see the slight twitch to their temple. Perhaps even the slight quiver rippling across their mouth. Oh, boy.
âThatâs putting it lightly,â they responded dryly, sighing before tossing another cracker into their mouth. âSeriously, was this the intended outcome for your project? Canât you see Iâm busy here?â Munchmunchmunch.
â.. kidding. I guess Iâll help, but youâre gonna have to wait until Iâm done here. Have fun telling that to the residents.â
Anyway, sheâs moving quickly to head over to Alkaphrah. Knowing him, heâs probably busy reading something and doing something else, BUT desperate times call for desperate measures, and that means interrupting him, too!
âCan you help me? I did an oopsie, and I think the residents are in big trouble. I meanâŠlike big, big. Uhm, you know The Warden? The ghost at the Inn? UhâŠ.wellâŠ.â
Alkaphrah took pride in his studies of both the soul and the mind - akin to a wizard, he dedicated much of his time to reading and watching - and this had not gone unnoticed. Orionâs presence is expected, her request for help? That too is expected.Â
âThe people of the city have proven themselves to be resilient and adaptive. You wish for them to heal and so you created a place of respite.â Something had gone wrong, still. Alkaphrah looks up from his old tomes to study Orionâs face. âGrief is a natural part of closure. The people must learn to navigate that cycle-âÂ
âBut, not like this. Grant me time to finish my own little project, and then I will help you sort out yours.â After all, he was rather inclined to enjoy a project that explored the psyche - even if it was going far from right.
Cut to Orion showing them the screens. Looks like the The Warden has taken hold of the residence of the rooms. The Isolans are trapped, and with them their past selves. âI wanted to make it a little bit more comfortable for them to relax in while they waited for themselves to be ready, buuuuuutâŠ.yeah. What should I do? The The Wardenâs made it so that they canât escape. Their past selves are also aggressive. Like the The Warden is controlling them or something.â
========
Beep
âOkay⊠Is this on? I just talk, right? Theyâll hear me or even see me? Okay⊠Uhm...â Orion clears her throat and begins.Â
âGood evening! Iâm sure most, if not all of you, are aware of whatâs going on. You may have noticed a friend of yours vanished or something⊠Well, to keep things short: your friends are in trouble and need your help. They are all trapped in the Inn with nowhere to escape on their own. Please help them, and you will be rewarded.â Orionâs turned to a different screen, a message to those trapped in the Inn.Â
âIâm sure this is a little familiar for you guys. These are the parts of you that you left behind. They are now in the hands of The Warden. They will pursue you, hunt you down, and try to kill you. Uhm, try to survive? Try to win them over! Iâm sure that will quell their anger! GOOD Luck!â
WHAT'S GOING ON?
Orion was messing around with something to help the inn to become more peaceful and friendly, as it is said to be a dangerous place to stay in, even for just a night. Whoâd want to visit an inn with rumors about people going missing or losing their minds? That, and wouldn't it be nice for the ones staying indefinitely to be comfortable in their stay?
Unfortunately, with all the tweaking and messing around she does, Orion accidentally messes up the software, causing The Warden (The ghost of the Inn) to become strong enough to trap muses inside the inn from all across the wards/branches. The Muses trapped in the Inn with their Data counterparts from the last event require some help! Orion has sent out a mass message for those who are available and can assist!
It is now up to the muses to find their escape. Though it seems the only escape is to go up against their data, but how? They do not listen to reason!Â
The data trapped in the inn are now under The Wardenâs influence. They are now the hauntings. Data selves who were once kind and gentle will be filled with rage and aggression. Those who were already bad are probably worse off. One thing is for certain: they seek to kill or take over the bodies of their counterparts.Â
The only escape is to win against the Datas by accepting them, understanding, and quelling resentment and anger, as well as fear. This is a great way to weaken the Warden as well. Which gives them a fighting chance!
The ârescue teamâ (muses who didnât find themselves trapped by the The Warden) must be the guiding light for the muses to help them find their way and achieve peace. Their reconciled selves will show up to assist trapped muses, while the reconciled muses have to find a way to face the The Warden. Will they, together, be able to break not only themselves free, but the data of their past selves free from their shackles?
The Warden will be in pursuit of the rescue team, using any method it can to trap them as well. It is up to the mun to have them trapped or not. The Warden will be capable of touching on the muse's sensitive and vulnerable past, entrapping them in their grief and making that pain stronger. The stronger the pain, the easier it will become for The Warden to trap the muse.
There are three potential outcomes:
URMs (unreconciled muses) can see eye to eye with their past selves, and the muses can release all that pain in a good way. This is the right ending to how things should be between the muses.Â
With the help of the RMs'(reconciled muses') past selves, the URMs' past selves are immobilized and are defeated (past selves will no longer be trapped in the Inn, but they have technically been killed off. Damn.)
Thereâs a key that pops up when things get too heated, and both URMs and the past selves of RMs canât handle the data. This key is to help them escape the inn and arrive back in the last place that they were before being whisked into the Inn. By leaving, though, you leave your past selves trapped in the Inn under the Wardenâs grasp.
WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?
The trapped muses will team up with the reconciled musesâ data selves. The muses that reconciled with their data selves will have their own new challenges to face against the The Warden.Â
The goal for this event is for those who did not reconcile to pretty much go through the stages of hardship, grief, mourning, etc and come to terms with their past. Aim for acceptance, peace with the other selves, understanding, and new resolve, etc.Â
As stated above, there are 3 endings. The 1st one is the good/canon so to speak, ending.
The 2nd is probably the bad ending in a way, considering it means in a WAY, your data dies.
The 3rd ending is the middle ground.Â
Do you really want your past self to disappear or remain trapped in the Warden's grasp? Perhaps it'd be in your best interest to reconcile! Get strong and beat The Warden so you and everyone else can escape!
FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS
What about the respawn system?
It's nonexistent. If your double succeeds and you die, then thatâs it. Somehow, the respawn system shut down, and even reawakening at the Abyss is impossible. You die, and you find yourself merged into one with your data (the one that succeeded in killing you). Youâll be aware of the things the data is doing with your body. Youâll probably have to deal with all that pain and so much more while you have no control over your own body.Â
You will really have to owe it to the other data that was helping you, because now they have to go up against you!
Can the RMs' past selves help trapped muses defeat their data?
The answer is Yes.Â
Are the datas of the past selves aggressive only to their former selves or are they aggressive toward everyone?
The URMsâ data selves are aggressive toward everyone, but are more aggressive toward their former selves!
Can the URMs get out of the inn?
The answer is no, unless they have a key.Â
How can one obtain the key?
One obtains the key by pure chance. When the Opponent is too strong, and there seems to be no way through the data, and you have no other means, the key may pop up (it's up to the mun if they want the key to show up or not, obviously).
What are the RMs doing while their past selves are helping the URMs?
The RMs are fighting their own battle against the The Warden and its hauntings.Â
What about the muses that weren't present for the first event?
The ones that didn't get the chance to meet their past selves and reconcile or whatever? Now is the perfect chance to do so, while they too are trapped with their past selves!
What do the RMS get out of this?
A "GOOD JOB FOR BEING A GREAT PERSON" sticker and a plush chibi version of their past selves that gives them love and support and all the things they need when the muse is at their lowest! Isn't that cute?
When does the event end?
It ends officially at 11:59:59PM on Friday, February 13th!
He rattles the chain that hooks the soul stone to his hip, the glow of it a foggy white that told Enki it was inhabited once more. If the glow wasn't enough, Cahara's eyes had become strangely inhuman once more.
"Guess what's back."
A casual look over his shoulder told him more than enough. There it was, the signature cruciform shape of his pupils. The glow of the stone was brilliant. Enki could feel, even from here, the radial magic of the secondary soul pulsing, and vibrating through his body.
It had been a very long time since he had felt that choleric, avenging magic. Even now, it sent a tremble through his spine.
"The White Angel. Returned to you at last. For me, it has been four centuries since I've seen the vengeful spirit. It seems just as restless as it has ever been."
It is powerful. He could feel impending action coming from it. Cahara drew Enki's full attention, and his deeply critical eyes were not so much today.
"I am still frustrated by the loss of my Salmonsnake. There isn't a creature similar with a hearty enough soul to absorb around here."
The second explosion draws Mahito's attention for only a moment or two before he's looking at Enki conjuring a pen instead. Oh, magic. Right, that was a thing people here could just do.
A modern book about plumbing doesn't really appeal to him, except bringing to mind the water treatment plant he had been hiding under for a while. Maybe he could find something like that at some point to hide in again.
"Hm. Maybe I'll take your suggestions on what to read. So much of the stuff here just doesn't scratch the same itch, you know?"
The snap of the book draws mismatched eyes to Enki's gaunt face. He had an interesting face, one that spoke of quite the adventure behind his hard expression. He asks if Mahito is some kind of dead thing and Mahito shakes his head in return.
"Not a dead thing, but not quite alive either. I'm a curse. You can call me Mahito."
"Mahito. Well, unfortunately for you, you are more in the responsibilities of the living world with a name."
Which seemed quite a task for something teetering on the edges of "is and is not". The ghouls and skeletons he'd raised in the last four centuries didn't have those interesting problems. So therin was the issue: Mahito was interesting. It was almost annoying.
Enki turned his attention to him then.
"What itch would that be? Body modification? There's a man on Crimson Lane who will gladly split your tongue for you, and then several books on the subject of ritual modification of flesh, their meanings, and their origins. They can be found in the Library in the Fae World. Does this interest you?"
"Curse" could mean many things. It could also be different than his own definition of what a curse was.
In the meantime, the chaos across from them was exponentially growing and getting worse. Sewage everywhere, distractions abound.
