ercookies | TDM 008: A WALK IN THE THEME PARK

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TDM 008: A WALK IN THE THEME PARK

00. Arrival

This time, you come out of the water, the Nameless Island's own inherent energy drawing people in. It's like being suspended between realities and abruptly pushed from behind through a rift in dimensions. It may make you sick, or that might be the motion of the ocean, lifting you to the surface and carrying you to shore.

Waterlogged and covered in sand, new arrivals will be greeted by robots who welcome them with towels and bracelet devices. The A5 card is already loaded up. Feel free to explore the Island, though there isn’t much to see. Most of the buildings are abandoned and in dire need of repair, and beyond the city lingers a thick fog that obscures much of the wilderness from view. Wander too far into this fog, and you will find yourself mysteriously looping back to where you began, your memories of what you were doing and how you got there erased.

With that in mind, it may be wise to stake your claim on a rundown apartment, a tent on the beach, or a bed in the “comfortable” new barracks. Your inventory will be found a day later, wrapped up haphazardly and delivered to each person's makeshift home.

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I. SIX FLAGELLANTS

Welcome, one and all, to a thrilling new location! Robots have worked tirelessly to build, from the ground up, what can only be recognizable as an amusement park. You are just in time for the grand opening of Six Flagellants: Great Advagtures!

The Ferris Wheel routinely stops when lovebirds reach the top, waiting for a kiss - or something more daring! - before it starts up again.

Robots warn of the scary Haunted House: a dark building with wall-to-wall creeps, and hot and cold running chills. Flickering ghosts roam the halls, and you may find an eerily realistic Headless Horseman -- who bids you, "Come closer. Give me head," while pointing to yours. Hey, get your mind out of the... Nevermind.

The Carousel is a two-story affair. Nude figures with familiar faces lounge about, waiting to be ridden, and closer inspection proves that they have the faces of your fellow islanders. Hop on your favorite person and take them for a spin!

There are even Bumper Cars, which have the interesting effect of making one feel more aroused with every bump and impact. (It's randomized each time, so don't try to guess based on car color!)

What should be a similar ride, the Teacups, has the robots' madness written all over it instead. They have misunderstood the gentle spin-cycles for dangerous, dizzying loop-the-loops across a wide track. Some would swear that the ride has a supernatural invocation for fear. Others are simply man enough to admit they're afraid.

Lastly, the Tunnel of Love is not what you expect. Although flavored lube and guides to cunnilingus are on each fleshy-log-shaped boat, the motion of the ocean is quite soothing, and there's a pleasant floral scent in the air that causes a light intoxication.

Don't forget to try the food! Similar to the Street Kiosks, there's a ton of faire food: cotton candy, corn dogs, and the like.

Mascot outfits are available and those who wear them will be rewarded generously with credits.

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II. LIKE A FIREWORK

The next morning, you receive a message on your device: You are cordially invited to a celebration of skinship at the House of Worship. Please do not dress for the occasion.

If asked about it, the robots will confirm that is not a specific holiday, but a simple joyous event. If you pry, they may even say that the Old Ones often made merry and partook in the pleasures of the flesh - and so too should you.

For an hour, there will be food and drink - alcoholic and aphrodisiac. Then, at the designated time, once the sun has gone down, clothes will be shed and a revelry begun.

As fireworks explode overhead, the different colors send the naked senses reeling:

Red: You are amorous towards the people around you. Yours is a joyous celebration. The Auspicious Acts you offer are happy and lighthearted, full of kisses and sweet nothings.
Orange: You feel bold and adventurous, eager to try something - or someone - new. Your preferred Acts may be dangerous or exciting, perhaps with more than one person.
Yellow: You feel reverence when you watch the fireworks, reverence when you look at your fellow people. You feel blessed to be part of the celebration at the House of Worship, and you make the Acts you complete into Acts of worship. You are all about the spirit of generosity.
Green: You are not here to celebrate. Jealousy is your lot. Uncover a new side of yourself, full of bitterness and resentment, and try an Act that treads the fine line between light and dark.
Indigo: You are proud to celebrate! Those around you are lucky to bask in your presence. You have a newly-minted domineering attitude that makes itself known, and your Acts are likely to be something where you'll come out on top.
Violet: These fireworks make you feel unusual - the opposite of yourself. You are different in all that you want to do, preferring Auspicious Acts that you may not have thought twice about before.

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III. MISTLETOE

mistletoe

sensory deprivation

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N A V I G A T I O N

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Over his time on the nameless Isle, Even has grown warier of its wiles, and rightly so, but curiosity is a wicked and deeply intractable character trait and he is subject to its wiles.

What that means mostly is that he's been spending the afternoon wandering around the carnival. He hadn't tried the cotton candy without watching someone else eat it first; he'd wholly avoided the utterly creepy carousel; and the bumper cars he'd gotten off of the moment he'd realized the gimmick. So far so good; nothing to hijack the mind, not beyond the way a bad bit of arousal hijacks it, and that he can cope with.

He had not expected company on the Tunnel of Love ride and when he'd looked across at the imposing drow in surprise, meaning to ask his name, he'd forgotten himself and stayed silent instead. There was something about the man's air that was -- well, intimidating, as embarrassing as the notion was. And, moreover, the hope that he might be someone at least from Even's own world was a hard one to face down again. Even, for his part, is both clearly a tiefling, with his orange skin, branching horns, and smooth tail, and also arguably a fellow arcanist, marked by the component pouch on his belt and a certain curious manner.

He'd kept his tongue, trying to read the man instead. Of course, then the tunnel had done its fell work.

"Oh -- terribly. But isn't that the way of it?" He covered his mouth rather than giggle, feeling giddy and also strangely aware of his own giddiness. "I mean it's never gone so garish before but it's not like our captors have ever really brooked with the subtle approach."

He curls his tail around his calf rather than thump it on the seat in amusement. This is silly.

Edited (Too many Is) 2020-12-19 06:23 (UTC)

"Garish is an apt word for it. Everything is far too bright." In just about every way it could be. Too many bright, obnoxious colors and lights, as though the daylight itself wasn't harsh enough.

Essek had taken in much about his current companion the moment they'd been seated together. Even in Xhorhas, tieflings were not especially common, and their coloring varied widely. The component pouch, likewise, hasn't gone unnoticed, but the mere presence of such a thing is hardly an indication of ability. It is interesting, though, that there appear to be so many arcane users in this strange place.

"I am beginning to understand their particular...intentions." Even as they float by in the somewhat darker tunnel, all sorts of explicit acts and suggestions are depicted in the scenery around them. Essek doesn't appear particularly bothered beyond mild exasperation.

"Tell me," he says, finally looking back at the tiefling himself. "Where are you from?"

"Oh yes, there's no escaping the premise of this place. There's not much variation on the theme, either," he commiserates. "At the same time, I suppose, it makes problem solving easy -- if the Augur did it, there's one solution and one solution only." It's a complaint as much as it is anything else; after months here, he's getting tired of hitting dead ends of investigation, where the dead end is 'go have a roll in the hay'.

Essek goes on, though, and Even is derailed. At the best of times he's a reasonably expressive person, but the strange incense in the air has Even wearing his heart on his sleeve. He visibly perks up at that question, fighting a grin with limited success.

"You know, I had been working up to ask you the same thing. Aglarond and lately Waterdeep on Toril?" he half-asks, hoping to see some flicker of recognition on the other man's face.

"How convenient," Essek mutters lowly. It seems that any real information that could be helpful is rather thin. Perhaps between himself and Caleb, they'll be able to uncover something...eventually.

But Even's hopes are clearly too much. Essek considers a moment before shaking his head. "Those names are unfamiliar to me." He supposes they could be locations in Tal'Dorei, but given that many seem to have been pulled here from different planes or worlds, it's more likely not.

"Though I imagine then that you have not heard of the Kryn Dynasty, or Xhorhas, on the continent of Wildemount?"

Even sighs, a long, meandering little noise, and shakes his head. Clearly, this is disappointing news. He waves a hand, and then folds it with the other in his lap, barely resisting the urge to prop his chin on his hand and lean on the edge of this boat. "I mean, I have, but not because we share a world. I've heard the name Wildemount. You know Molly and the rest of them?

"That's the pattern, is why I ask," he adds, feeling helpful. "It's not often people are from the same place without them having known each other back home. It seems these kidnappings are socially contagious."

The tiefling grins, lightly loopy and unembarrassed by the half-assed joke. How could anything be more embarrassing than the smutty landscape they're so blithely sailing through, anyways?

"The rest of them," Essek corrects. "I'd never met this Mollymauk due to...extenuating circumstances." And he still has yet to properly. It's been a rather intense first couple days on the island.

He has to chuckle at the phrase, however. Socially contagious. "It sounds more like a way of describing someone who goes around infecting people and making them sociable." The derisive snort that follows indicates that such a thing sounds quite distasteful to him.

"Does that mean there is no one from your home here with you? You are alone?"

Even has to cover his mouth rather than giggle again. That look on the fellow's face at the notion of being infected with sociability. It's getting harder to resist breaking out into laughter, though he's quite certain this giddiness isn't entirely natural.

He gulps a breath and collects himself. This isn't strictly how he likes to make a first impression, especially when the other party really does seem so put-together still. It's like being the person drunk too early at the party.

"Ah-- ah, no, not quite. A friend and I arrived at the same time, um, Oran, you'll probably meet him sometime -- but that was several months ago. No one else from home has since appeared.

"I can't quite be upset about it, you know, what with the being held against our will and all -- but. But it does get a little lonely, being away from everything familiar for so long."

That's a little better. He still feels silly, but he's certain that was a little more normal. How is this fellow keeping it so together?

"Are you, ah. Are you feeling at all unusual? If you don't mind my asking."

In truth, his mind is feeling rather muddled, but Essek is accustomed to fighting through sleeplessness to maintain his composure. Long evenings researching and experimenting combined with early mornings and his duties to the Bright Queen happened frequently. It's not...quite the same. The last time he had imbibed to the point of intoxication, he had been alone, and this feels a bit more like that, unfortunately. It's been decades since there had been any witnesses to him being drunk.

Still he fights on, clearing his throat. "Nothing that cannot be managed." Essek blinks a few times at two brightly lit, stylized figures engaging in anal intercourse. It takes a moment for his eyes to focus properly, squinting. His headache is returning.

"Are you saying you don't mind being here, even though you had no choice in the matter? And your friend, another tiefling?"

"Ohh -- no, no." Had he said that? He might have, and he takes a moment to muddle back over his own words. Oh, it's terrible to make this kind of first impression -- it's like being drunk, but at least the silliness dulls the anxiety of it. "No, I meant, I miss my, the people I knew back home, but I'm happy they haven't been kidnapped too."

He sits back, folding his hands in his lap and trying to get some sort of grip on himself. He isn't even really parsing the porn on the walls; months in this place will do that to a person.

"I think," he says aloud, half to himself, really, "I think these effects should hopefully end when we leave the tunnel? If not I'm going straight home." He laughs, helpless. "Uh, yes, Oran's another tiefling. Grey, big horns."

"One could hope, elsewise I will have to do the same."

The lights appear to be getting brighter - not helpful, frankly, but by this point he's unsure if the drunken feeling is better. Whatever respite he'd hoped to find out of the immediate daylight has been rendered essentially ineffective. Combined with feeling ill from the sun, the intoxication caused by their surroundings has skipped entirely over the pleasant phase and gone straight for the beginnings of something rather un-pleasant. The longer they remain, the dizzier he feels, and the more noticeable it becomes.

"Another arcanist, like you?" Oh yes, he's noticed. "It appears there are many magic users here."

"There weren't, at first!" It's a topic Even relishes, so for a moment he doesn't parse Essek's discomfort in the face of his own momentary spike of cheer. Drunk or not, he'll talk magic till he keels over. "It's been lovely to have so many others show up over these past months. I've set up a little -- well, a classroom of sorts, I've been thinking it would be beneficial to start teaching interested parties some basic cantrips -- but I'm also setting it up for more advanced arcane exchanges. It's above the potions shop, if you've seen it, ah, right beside Oran and I..."

He trails off. Drow aren't supposed to look quite so pale around the edges as this one is looking, are they? Even leans in, peering.

"Are you quite alright?" dumb question. He backpedals. "Is it getting worse?"

"Oh, that's-..."

Interesting, truly. Or would be, if a wave of dizziness hadn't suddenly overcome him. Had Essek been standing, he likely would have nearly toppled over. As it is he leans forward, catching his head in his hands. His pulse feels uncomfortably fast.

Thankfully they're nearing the end, with people tipsily tottering from their little boats.

"I'm-..." Quite obviously not all right. "Yes, it is." His voice is strained, the pain throbbing in his head once the dizziness subsides. "It is the light, I think. I am- unused to it."

"Ah! Of course -- of course, it must be terrible out there for you, mustn't it? Oh, hmm."

At his heart Even is a problem-solver; magic is just the most interesting problem to be solved in a general sense. This, though, is rather more pressing and Even swaps seats, moving to sit beside rather than across from the drow. He reaches a hand up to put on Essek's forehead, peering to get a look at his face. He's not doing well.

"And of course the Augur's tricks aren't helping. That nuisance!" He's still loopy enough to be a talky creature, and he tuts, instead scooping an arm around Essek's shoulders. "Alright. Close your eyes, keep them closed. We're close to out of here, and you just hold onto me and I'll find somewhere dark, alright?"

His tone brooks no fussing.

There's no fever necessarily, but his skin does feel slightly warm. Still, Essek pulls back from the touch -- until the movement prompts a fresh wave of dizziness. He leans forward again, and when Even pulls him closer he can't risk pulling away again. For the short remainder of their odd journey together in the boat, he keeps his eyes blessedly closed.

When they finally dock he squints them open, but being that much closer to the entrance and real sunlight, the piercing pain is immediate and worse. Essek sighs in frustration, but lets Even lead him away.

"My apologies for being such an unexpected imposition."

"Oh -- shush, I mean really, you met me on a carnival ride. Did you think I was doing big and important things with my day? Hold on tight, close your eyes, and stop fussing."

Even cranes to peer out the exit of the ride as they approach, and spots the back of a carnival tent that looks unattended. Good -- it's not nothing, and he marks it. When the dick-shaped boat bumps to a gentle stop and the gate pops open, to fanfare from some enthusiastic little robots, Even guides his new charge to his feet.

"Mind the gap," he warns, the boat wobbling lightly under them as they depart. The tiefling starts towards that tent he spotted, trying to keep them in the shadows. The effects of the tunnel are fading, but he's well enough into problem-solving mode that he is only suffering mild embarrassment over how presumptuous he's been with this clearly aloof man.

"I can cast Darkness to give you a bit of relief, if you don't mind not being able to see anything at all," he suggests. "Where are you staying? Hells, how did you get get here without sun protection?"

"That won't be necessary, thank you." As much as complete darkness does sound appealing, Essek would rather keep his eyesight for now than trust the abilities of an unknown arcanist.

The tent isn't darker than the tunnel, but it is blessedly absent of the glaring artificial lights and the nauseating effect of intoxication. He carefully finds a place to settle, already feeling somewhat better after a few clearer breaths of air.

"I can normally withstand several hours of daylight without severe illness if necessary. That...space seemed like it might have offered a little temporary relief, but it seems whatever is in there had a more adverse effect on me as a result."

Essek shifts, leaning back against a storage crate a moment before sparing some effort to get a better look at his tiefling rescuer. "I have some...friends here, who have been here for some weeks. They've made space for me in their home."

"Ah -- the others from your world. That's good."

Having lowered Essek to the ground, Even takes a moment to fuss about the tent, pulling the cracks tighter against any light spilling in. The sounds of a robot manning a game where one throws rings over a forest of dildos in the hopes of winning the big prize (of course another dildo) can be heard beyond, but it's leaving them be for now, blessedly. He pauses and looks down at the drow, and then comes to sit across from the man rather than hover, standing. Less awkward, maybe?

He treads a little carefully with the next question, uncertain. Essek has that vibe to him, that feeling of someone who just direly dislikes accepting help, and it's not a far leap to assume that he really doesn't like being seen needing help either.

"If it would be helpful, I can quietly contact one of them to help you get home," he suggests, hands on his own knees, looking evenly across at the afflicted man. "If not, well, there are worse places to wait out dusk."

Decades of being accustomed to relying only on himself for anything of real importance tend to have that effect, especially when as shadowhand he's expected to maintain a show of power and position. Appearing weak, vulnerable, has never really been an option until relatively recently. And then just like that, it had been gone again.

It's not precisely the first impression he likes to make, but very little of this situation entire situation is in his control. Besides, there are worse things than being fussed over. Essek likewise has a feeling that Even is hardly the sort that would hold it against him.

Still, he carefully shakes his head. "No, there's no need to bother them. I should be fine with a little rest."

"Waiting it out it is, then," Even agrees amicably enough. Really, no skin off of his back, except that now he has to decide whether he should linger about or give the fellow privacy. Not yet, certainly; he isn't quite convinced yet that this drow isn't going to pass out or throw up or something horrendous.

So he settles in, and fishes around in his shoulder bag. Pulling out am insulated metal tube, he opens it and pours the cap -- a cup, now unscrewed -- full and passes it over. "Just water. Drink up.

"I'm Even, by the way, Even Immolzeth. I think I asked your world but neglected to inquire about your name, didn't I?" He flashes a smile of humour at his own expense.

There's a noticeable pause as he considers the cup. Violet eyes look from it to Even slowly, clearly mistrustful, but he eventually takes it and drinks. The tiefling would hardly need covert tricks to incapacitate him further, if this was somehow all a ruse.

"Essek Thelyss," Essek returns after taking a careful sip. "Shadowhand to the Bright Queen."

Obviously Even won't know what any of that means, but it sounds impressive regardless. There's an image to be somewhat maintained, even if he isn't appearing very intimidating at the moment.

The suspicion, though unsurprising, does tweak Even's pride. He waits it out, and is satisfied when the drow -- when Essek takes his word for it. And indeed it's just water, though nice and cold thanks to the thermos.

Stashing the thermos upright beside him and crossing his arms over his knees, he tidily tucks his tail around his feet and grins a crooked little grin. He may not recognize the title, but the import is clear. "Aristocracy, then? I'm beginning to feel as if I may be the only person on this island who isn't either royalty or closely connected to."

Not strictly true, but everyone he's met in recent days falls into one of those two categories. It is a little intimidating to the son of a merchant.

"Regardless, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Essek. I do hope this afternoon won't end up emblematic of your stay on the island. If you don't mind my asking, what is a Shadowhand, exactly?"

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TDM 008: A WALK IN THE THEME PARK

00. Arrival

I. SIX FLAGELLANTS

II. LIKE A FIREWORK

III. MISTLETOE

I, wizard party time x2

nothing's sexier than wizards

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a bit awol with the season, sorry for the slow!

no worries! <3

I emerge from Christmas victorious!

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