#actionpost

[equiuszahhak]

Tournament

You weren't going to participate this time. What would be the point? Last time you did your best to put on a show. You used all of your best designing skills to make flashy gear for yourself. You took down all your opponents easily in a display of skill, prowess, and your own personal power. And everyone shit on you for it. Your fights got called boring. People commented on how you were too powerful. How the tools you designed were cheap tricks. And when you saw the new tournament? It was clear the rules were designed specifically against you. They practically called you out by name. You hadn't even been sure you were invited to the party until a few days before. You were, according to her, the last person invited. At least you weren't forgotten completely. Of course, it wasn't as if you were having an easy time of it lately. From your numerous failures, which people did not fail to bring up time and time again.. To the stunning rejection you were still reeling from. You had not felt this melancholy in sweeps. You couldn't not show up, of course. Advoca was fighting, you had to see that, even if she had quietly refused to accept your offer of gear. Of course she wouldn't want it. You'd only ruin the fun. You always ruin the fun. It was best for everyone if you just made your appearance. Said happy wriggling day to the girl of the day, then kept to yourself where you wouldn't fuck anything up again. Where you wouldn't ruin the jovial spirits of everyone. No one seemed to notice.. Except Jade. You could see her giving you that glare of hers. It was clear she saw something was up. She seemed to be spending her time with Jack. You.. Didn't really want to be anywhere near him, right now. Not after what happened to Jill. The topic would be broached. You didn't know how to feel about any of that yet. Not the topic for a party, anyway. Still, she seemed bothered.. In a concerned way, but didn't leave Jack for you. You didn't expect her to. You turned your attention back to the happenings on the field, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts. From thinking about what joys could be going on elsewhere, without you. Before you knew it, Jade was there with you, dragging you away. She seemed determined to make you have fun. You loved her.

[resonantrepetition]

[ @feeling-horsey received x1 BOX OF CURSED OBJECTS! ] It’s a durable, thermally insulated box with a black, wooden exterior. There’s a white doom symbol painted on, so as to be easily identified-- both as a hazard, and in relation to the properties of its contents. 

The first object makes clear why the box was insulated. It appears to be a completely normal thermos, but it absolutely radiates heat. Touching it would no doubt result in burns.

The next object is barely identifiable due to the thick layer of ice around it, but... It might be a cooler? 

The third object is a boomerang that was cleverly enchanted to come back to the user regardless of how it’s thrown. However, according to the note Echo attached,  “If you throw it, it will seek you out like it has a vendetta. Tamper with at your own risk.” 

The fourth object is a jar full of some sort of pitch-black, viscous liquid.  The only note Echo added to this one is “DO NOT OPEN.”  [ Equius Zahhak received x1 HANDMADE SWEATER! ]

The sweater itself is Void blue, and has a cute pattern of little white horses on it. 

The attached note simply says, “As thanks.”

[agreste-image]

@theheartmuncher @gardencracks @daviscatessen

What finally does Adrien in is his anger.

Most people would expect misery, but no. Anger's been there all along, simmering just under the surface of soft smiles and giving endless second chances.

And he's aware of it, keeping it down there, pushing it down with a gentle hand and promises to himself that he'll be able to let it out soon, they're getting closer every day to defeating Papillon, and then Adrien will be able to scream and cry his heart out away from everyone in the world and stop hiding himself.

But plans like this never work out, much less in Paris. He's still stuck under countless rules, strict scheduling and a whole lot of lies, not to mention the ripples of other's actions, and this most ridiculous of fucking situations is the butterfly on the model's back.

Seriously- punishment because he tried to HELP. Punishment because someone has it out for Adrien for whatever reason and got him locked back up in his house for who knows how long this time.

Somehow, he senses it coming. Maybe it's just him recognizing that this is enough to get him on Papillon's radar. Whichever it is, Adrien realizes after the third deep breath in preparation to scream that he cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to hold onto his Miraculous at the moment.

Maybe not be allowed to keep it at all.

"Plagg," he calls hoarsely, standing and digging through his bag for the teleportation watch Ruby gave him, "I need you to deliver something to someone."

"Me, deliver something? You finally go off the deep end?" What a choice of words. Adrien ignores them.

"Take this watch, hit the button here, and take the ring to Ruby." He removes the ring without renouncing the Kwami, allowing him to remain outside of it. Plagg's eyes widen in slow realization.

"H-hey, kid, you're gonna be fine, you've gotten angrier over less and he hasn't come after you!" Plagg tries to comfort him, convince him, Adrien's not sure which, but the boy just shakes his head, shoving the ring into his paws and looping the watch around his body.

"I have this feeling, Plagg, and I'd rather do this and have it be a false alarm than ignore it and hand Papillon the cat on a silver platter." Plagg's mouth opens and closes a few times, trying to find something to say, but in the end all he can do is gaze sadly at his wielder- his kitten who's been through too much.

There's a long silence, as both wait for something to happen; a butterfly to squeeze through the window, Adrien to calm down, but nothing does. If his clenched fists are anything to go by, Adrien's only getting more pissed by the second. Plagg sighs as Adrien turns away to his computer, to tell Davis and Aria, again, to not come to Paris because he thinks it’ll be too dangerous.

"You better just be paranoid," he mutters, activating the watch and disappearing just as a little black blob comes into Adrien's view, right as he tells his friends he’ll talk to them later.

Icy fear washes over Adrien, and for once, he can't move, too scared to do anything but watch as that butterfly drifts closer, searching for an item to possess. Somehow, it slips through his shirt, purple magic seeping into the glamour charm around his neck, and Adrien gasps.

"Simulacrum," Papillon purrs in Adrien's head, as he desperately tries to fight him out, dropping to his knees, "You're tired of the masks, aren't you? Always changing who you are to everyone, even the most minute of adjustments just so they'll stay. I can free you from that charade after all is said and done, and dull the pain in the meantime, letting you simply close your eyes until it's all over... all you need to do for me in return, is..."

The villain trails off into a laugh that almost seems familiar, knowing he has Adrien. It's not that he gave in, no, but the quietest acknowledgement of how he desires nothing more than to stop acting, to stop being treated like a doll... it's just enough.

"Get Ladybug and Chat Noir's Miraculous." The teen growls in quiet disgust, as purple-black magic boils over his body.

Papillon laughs again, knowing that if the boy was capable of properly controlling himself at this point, he'd be even angrier; after all, the magic is turning him into a porcelain man, rigid and fragile. In his hand is a sabre with a mirror as a guard, glittering dangerously in the light.

"Oh, what a dangerous tone. But I'm glad you know the arrangement, already. Go on, my boy... get me those jewels."

{ simulacrum originally by naptillmorning }

[horrortamer-archive]

Scar => Go grimdark.

Today is your only day off this week and all hell has already broken loose. Glub is so loud in your pan, but at least you have your moirail! Oh no, Dave got shot and is in the hospital. Latula, of course, is scared for her mate’s life and has gone to be with him. And you’re not welcome along. Alright. So now you’re alone.

And Gl'bgolyb is going to take full advantage of that.

She calls you down under like a siren urging you to go deeper into your own mind. Into her ocean. You’ve been an orphaner for most of your life and have dealt with her personally for the past ten sweeps, but this is the loudest she has ever been. You close your eyes and hold your head to brace the pain of screams and when you open your eyes, you’re face to face with her. Or, well, face to beak and a million eyes. That’s where the screams stop.

The silence was almost even more painful.

Hello, Cronus.

You, for some reason, can not bring yourself to speak.

Finally, you answered my calls. I’ve been aching to show you something.

You know exactly what’s to come. You’ve had many conversations with others about the horrific sights to follow. She wishes to grant you knowledge no orphaner before you ever knew. Knowledge no other trolls before you knew. She wanted to show you The Outer Rim.

She wraps you in her mass of tentacles. Some creep inside of your gills. Into your mouth and up your nose. They tighten around you and you feel things break under her. She’s suffocating you and yet you can’t scream.

And then you wake up. It’s cold. It’s damp. There is no light. Only bioluminescence and echoes and whispers. You don’t know how long you’re here. Absorbing all this stimuli. Their words. Their secrets. What they know. Why are you here? Why did she so badly want to bring you here? You can’t process this all. You find yourself overwhelmed and overstimulated. 

Then you find yourself back on your ship with a blink of an eye. You can feel something travel up your throat and you can’t help but heel over and cough it out onto the floor of your cabin. It’s a black ooze. It splatters onto the ground, and gets on your boots which you now notice are also stained black. Something is wriggling within the new puddle on your floor. You blink. You black out.

All you can feel and see is rage.

[catofulthar000]

A bear with chainsaws in place of forelimbs approaches Tavros, sniffing at his hair in an exploratory manner

>This is somewhat alarming! You have never seen a beast outfitted with industrial weaponry! “Uhhhhhh...” >You request of the beast that it nod to you harm, and try to get a feel for what it is? and why it has chainsawpaws?

[equiuszahhak]

>Equius: Hunt the Wolf (P2)

4:33 PM.

The low-built wooden shacks rose up around you. You are comforted by the amount of life on display within it's boundaries. The sounds of home-raised animals created a gentle din as primitive humans bustled about their business. At least until you drew near.

While such malnourished humans did not fare better than their modern counterparts, it ultimately didn't matter. Regardless of the time period, when you walked into the view of normal people, heads turned to gape. You were used to towering over those around you, even those you were closest to did not come close to your height.. But while those you loved might not mind your size, it was obvious these people felt more strongly.

You were certain, you thought, that you were likely the largest person they had ever seen. Most likely, you were the largest they would ever see. And in your dark, expensive clothes, with your weapon strapped to your hilt.. You appeared to them as a being out of stories. A knight or a warrior of legend, perhaps… Or else a grim reaper, a force of darkness sent by an evil force beyond their understanding. You did not know what they thought you were, but you saw their jaws agape. Their eyes filled with apprehension.

The first you spoke to barely came up to your chest, your cloaked figure bearing down over them as your deep voice rumbled out your question. The answer came stuttered and uncertain, accompanied by a desperate gesture of the finger, as if it would banish you from their presence. You could almost swear you heard a muttered prayer as your boots padded silently across the packed dirt.

You came to a building, larger than those you had seen up until now. It amused you how close it was to the church, almost as much as it amused you that of the two, The Broken Table inn was larger. Not that it prevented you from needing to duck as you passed through the short doorway.

The inside was dingy, as you expected. Though this was the heart of the town, where all farmers and travelers would come to for respite, this place was not rich enough, nor was there competition enough, to justify any level of cleanliness above pigsty. As long as the alcohol was strong and the beds dry, it would be good enough. Though this early in the day, the patronage was sparse.

The man who tended the bar was the short and stout kind. Despite the unkempt appearance of his place of work, the bartender at least seemed to maintain his own appearance. He had a carefully trimmed mustache and a freshly bleached apron. His cheeks were a rosy color for the few moments he was distracted by wiping the counter with a strip of cloth, but they drained of hue as he saw you.

Fear was of no impediment to your mission here, however. You flicked back the fabric of your cloak as you approached, showing the glint of silver hanging from your waist. A sword, to these people, was a symbol of pure authority. You were certain he would answer your questions, if for nothing else than to avoid being on it's receiving end.. Not that you ever would harm the innocent man.

"Can I help you, Sire?"

You furrowed your brows as you looked him over. You wondered if the scent of ammonia was from whatever he used to bleach his apron. You hoped that it was.

"Where did it happen."

Your voice was short and stoic, lacking inflection as it always was, especially when you were on the job. If the man wasn't afraid before, he was now.

"We don't.. Talk about that. It's bad luck, see? I don't want the-"

You didn't let him finish.

"Where did it happen."

This time the man seemed cowed by the question, or perhaps he just recognized there was more trouble in front of him than in the fields.

He let out a low breath and said "It was the Narrows' farm, on the south end of town."

You'd heard enough. You'd already turned to head out the door. But it seemed with your back turned, the bartender finally grew enough of a backbone to call out to you.

"You leave the family alone, you hear? They've lost enough. It's hard enough losing one boy past infancy, but two?"

You paused in the doorway.

Fuck. Fiddlesticks.

Of course it was the alternative.

[equiuszahhak]

>Equius: Hunt the wolf (P1)

It isn't actually a wolf, you think. If it were, you would have no reason to be here in the first place. This was no creature of the Earth. It is one of the wind and sky. It is the gentle rustle of the grass on a breezy day as its prey is stalked, and it is the lightning that flashes as quick and ivory as it's fangs.

You don't know what it looks like. But you do know it is evil. Purely and totally. Or else the power you used to find it in the first place would have passed it over. You flip black your cloak to pull the watch from your breast pocket. One of the numerous ways you had enchanted it back when your contract allowed you to do wonders was to make it a truly accurate timepiece.

4:07 pm, July 8th, 1271.

The hours aligned, but not the date. Intriguing. It was impressive how the universes you visited always seemed to differ in time. Perhaps that was the nature of traveling to it through a place beyond it's reach.

Such pondering, idle as it was, distracted from the task on hand. There was a monster to hunt. You grunted softly as you reach into one of your cloak's many pockets. The ring you remove is old, you think. Someone gave it to you.. But you don't remember who it was. In reality, it was only perhaps a sweep or so ago in real time.. But for you, He Who Dwells Outside, that might as well have been eons. It is hard to keep track of these things, at least when they happened before you started noting them down.

Your glove was removed, and the simple ring was slipped onto your finger. You felt the illusion cover your form, the gentle tingle of magic. While you had some measure of ability to change your looks when your body is reconstructed from the Nothing, you could not manage what this simple artifact does. The skin of your calloused hands shifts from the pallid, cold blue-grey to a light, pinkish peach. You tighten it into such a fist that the knuckles turn white, instead.

This world was too young and ignorant for you to appear as what you were. The peasants would likely think you the monster, rather than the being there to liberate them from it. Eyes lift to scan the horizon.

Grain.

The warm gold sea shuddered with the warm summer air, sending ripples in the rolling fields of tilled farmland. Anywhere else, this would have been a safe place. Even now you could see the gentle wisps of smoke that trailed from the village, perhaps only a mile away. By all measures you were still within the boundaries of civilization, of it's safety. But you knew better.

Your eyes followed the gentle shimmer of reflected sunlight as the wheat rustled. A low grunt emanated from your chest. It was pointless to watch. It could be any of the fields. You hoped it would not be in all of them. The first order of business was finding where to look.

You stepped down from the hill to make the trek toward the village, hackles raised. Without your companion to watch your back, you had to do it yourself. A lone traveler is often such a beast's ideal prey, unless..

You shuddered at the idea of the alternative.

[equiuszahhak]

🎁

Radris would receive a shining, silver bracer, etched with gold trimmings that ran along the outside of it, depicting a sword being chained down by eight golden chainrings before being pulled free by someone's hand, breaking the rings. An included note would title the bracer as "Heremod's Legacy" and explain that, while worn, she would be able to summon a sword. Doing so she would find it to be a type XII with a bright silver blade. The hilt and pommel were ornate and golden, with the heads of a horse on either side of the crossguard, and embedded with orange gemstones. While the handle itself appeared to be wood, but wrapped in a material similar to linen. But it appeared she was not limited to just one, and simply putting the sword down, or switching hands would allow her to summon more, identical ones. It appeared to be capped, however, at 8. To summon more she would first have to 'reabsorb' the old ones, or wait 9 days.