Site Wide Event Into the Cloister

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The day has arrived; a time for those who have trained, who have dedicated themselves to finally step into the unknown. To face trial and tribulation, to hone their skills against who knows what. It is high noon, and small orbs of light guide the way through a Greatwood painted with Leafchange colours (and tainted, increasingly, with signs of blight), all the way to the Drop.

Evidence of the rockslide is still apparent, sloping treacherously here and there , but to the other side of the Drop... are steps. Steps down, down, down, where the orbs of light continue to bob and weave and dance. Fae and Grounders alike mill around - though not together, of course. Or barely together.

Once you have descended, you find yourself in a low and spacious cavern. To the left lies one way and one way only - a Fae directs any observers to use this route as a way to watch what goes on.

To the right... a network of new tunnels. Each combatant is carefully manoeuvred so that they do not take the same route as one of the others... and eventually, each participant is faced with a door of carved, solid stone. At intervals, the doors slide up... and they are invited to step into the ring to meet their opponent.

The Cloister of Trials has begun!!

Each participant (i.e. whoever has completed the first part of the seasonal event) must post here first to indicate that they have entered the cloister.

Anyone else is also invited to join this SWE to use it as a spectator's thread! Please feel free to post and react to what you will see throughout the trials!
Coding template by Sky!
Adam Pikely
Smuggler's Liaison

Age: 35 | Height: 6'3" | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 5 - Strg: 17 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 17 - Luck: 12 - Int:
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Some things you do just to see how bad they'll make you feel
Sometimes you try to freeze time 'til the slots are a blur of spinning wheels

Adam was very excited. He had no idea what these trials were going to involve, but they sounded like a chance to show off. Already, without knowing the prize or the competition, he fantasised about winning as he waltzed into the woods.

Being in the drop brought forth some...not great memories, but at least there were enough humans here this time he felt confident that he might get out in good time. With Coffee gliding alongside him and his guns on his hips, he felt safe enough. If that didn't work, there was always the emergency dagger in his boot (which, like everything else he owned, had been personally engraved and barely used).

He was taken down a tunnel and faced a door - he didn't know what he was preparing for, but it felt big. Dancing from foot to foot, he whispered encouragment to himself and waited for the door to open.

But I am just a broken machine
And I do things that I don't really mean

Edrei Launceleyn
the Rapacious

Age: 28 | Height: 5'7 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 6 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 20 - Endr: 21 - Luck: 5 - Int:
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Yep, yep, yep. Edy was more than ready.

With Bobi at her heel, the Launceleyn-queen all but danced down the stairs. She didn't faulter at all as she slunk into her tunnel. There was an innuendo here she was just dying to make, but until she learned who her opponent was, she let it linger like ice on the tip of her tongue.

Bobi, feeling the tug of adrenaline, prowled around the not-teenager's heels. What she would be able to offer, she hadn't decided yet. Whether she would just be a pair of eyes or add her own claws to the mix was anyone's guess.
Ronin Taliesin
the Supernova

Age: 33 | Height: 5'10 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Nomadic
Level: 14 - Strg: 58 - Dext: 70 - Endr: 58 - Luck: 79 - Int: 3
SUGAR - Mythical - Dragon (Ice Breath)
Played by: Honey Offline
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if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving
Ronin tried to avoid looking at the signs of blight upon the Greatwood as he headed solemnly down into the belly of the cloister. As cheerful as it seemed to be - an air of anticipation, of wonder, of sport - he found it hard to get his head in the game at first. Would he end up like those trees in the end? Blackened, wilted, rotten on the inside? Would he have done so much only to be killed by a pestilence they didn't understand.

The cloister encased him and he frowned, scrubbing at his eyes to get his thoughts straight. And as he was faced with a dead end and a stone door, he rolled his shoulders, clenched his fists and warmed himself up. When the door opened, he vowed to be ready.
Lucas Copperhead

Age: 37 | Height: 6'0 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 4 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 17 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 7 - Int:
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clever as the devil and twice as pretty
The sun was high but the trees provided an ample canopy of shade to walk beneath, and so Lucas prowled in peace. Of all who were welcome in the Greatwood (and it still made him chuckle to say the name) the Ascended were still not included - and yet here they were, joining in a tournament to become its fucking guardian. Hilarious.

Descending into the shadows, he followed the route indicated for him and arched an eyebrow as he was eventually faced with a stone door. There was light to see by but his Ascended eyes still glinted as they cut through the shadier parts of the route. Reaching out, he pushed at the door, wondering what was supposed to happen next.
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 46 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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after all is said and done
you're just a carnivore
let you in and drink my blood
you're nothing but a monster

Wessex is… cloaked wary. Fully prepared, but fucking wary. Armed to the teeth (literally), filled with Edy’s magic, and ready to rumble, she can’t help but cast an eye and ear around, trying to catch tidbits of conversation. Anything, really. But the Fae keep themselves removed, and that, too, gives the Ascended Queen an uneasy feeling.

Nevertheless, down she goes, past the point where they’d rescued the group from the rockslide. She tucks her bow and quiver in close, pats all the places to double check that they’re filled with blades of various sizes. Big knife, little knife, throwing knife. Rope stayed at home. Silently following the Fae’s directions to the network of tunnels,  she files into her slot, eyes adjusting easily despite the offered lights.

Here goes nothing. Yet again.
Are Jormsson
Cobbler / Leatherworker

Age: 30 | Height: 6'4" (193cm) | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 3 - Strg: 20 - Dext: 12 - Endr: 20 - Luck: 6 - Int:
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He came and he came with everything he had. Armed and armored he had arrived back at the place that had given him so much grief. Third time's the charm, as they say. At least he came by his own volition, and for no one but himself. Not by the whim of the gods, for respect of his peers, or even because of dire necessity. No, Are was in it just for himself for a change.

Emerging a victor crowned by the falling oak leaves or a hero carried by Valkyrjor to his rightful place by the sides of gods, of old or new, from a world long gone or his new home he would only find out one way. No matter the outcome he was content in knowing it was all by his own hand, at last his fate was all his.

Standing before the door to the unknown he made sure every strapped was taught and every piece sat just as they should. The days of the cobbler was gone, in his stead stood a warrior on the brink of a new life, or on the brink to a great abyss.
Deimos Ignatius
the Resurrected Sword
Warden of Halo / Guildmaster

Age: 33 | Height: 6'4" | Race: Hybrid | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Halo
Level: 14 - Strg: 68 - Dext: 68 - Endr: 69 - Luck: 80 - Int: 3
BELIAL - Mythical - Peryton (Blend) ZURIEL - Mythical - Unicorn (Healing)
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Delivered from the blasts
Between every other event circumventing the world, he’d almost forgotten about the one he’d signed up for. It seemed almost miniscule in effect, but he rendered himself ready regardless; taking to the autumn chill with his collection of swords and knives on his belt, invocations and enchantments simmering in his skin. A beast, a warrior, a monster, eager and fervent for the chaos, the unknown, to come their way – used to it, familiar with its potency, with its precision, with its art.

Zuriel stepped beside him as they traced grounds he’d known what felt like months before, the rockslide evident along the Drop, catering to hollowed hell and bits of treacherous memories scathing within, how he’d nearly died there too – a pattern he really should’ve ceased repeating so often.

They proceeded down and down, into a cavern, and the splintering images of the past slid against his spine. He clenched his jaw, but said, uttered nothing; the unicorn already knew what was in his head. She said naught either, two beings tracing over a network of sentiments, nuances, and possibilities. The latter was endless and eternal. Then they maneuvered in front of a stone door, carved, sculpted, shaped like old ruins and quiet devastation – and he wondered if this was to be a colosseum, a place where everyone was entertained by whatever came upon them, by whatever menace or might shattered the realm.

It was like a battlefield. He could hear his heart hammering into drum beats and havoc. He could feel his predilections simmering, seething, smoldering between veins, marrow, and bone. The infidel inhaled one sharpened breath, glanced to Zuriel, and nodded as the aperture beckoned, sliding up, up, up, revealing everything and nothing all at once.
the last of a line of lasts
Kiada Njovu-Reyes

Age: 30 | Height: 5’7 | Race: Ancient | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 2 - Strg: 18 - Dext: 16 - Endr: 26 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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i etch my own face
upon my wicked flesh
The day comes, and the Harpy isn’t certain what made her sign up before. Not as she descends with a few others and a few Fae into the tunneled underground. It sinks within her stomach the further down they go, but she inhales deeply to keep her thoughts in check. Not a prisoner anymore. She had been rescued, had survived, and really it hadn’t been that bad. She could do this, at least she keeps telling herself that.

And so she lets the Fae direct her, walking down the paths until finally she reaches a door. Her fingers reach out to touch the carvings within it. She uses this time to stretch – her arms and legs, rolling her neck and limbering herself up. She doesn’t have magic, but she does have her vulture form, and it’s better than nothing. There’s also a few knives that are hidden within her person, easily in reach for her – just in case.

The Harpy waits, listening to the rises and falls of the crowds, wondering who is fighting who out there. And at the end of it all? Realizing she doesn’t really care. She just wants the door to open and begin.
i am my own devastating god
Kiada has a large X scar on the right side of her neck.
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
Lily Balfour

Age: 34 | Height: 5'9'' | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: N/A - Strg: 16 - Dext: 19 - Endr: 18 - Luck: 14 - Int:
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oh, cover your crystal eyes
and let your colors bleed and blend with mine

She’s not a fighter, but that doesn’t mean she can’t support her friends while they try to kill each other. It’s a very… American concept, she thinks, though in her time it’s more like stupid wealthy men getting offended over an insult and then killing each other in duels than what will eventually become football, wrestling, and MMA fighting. Lucas and Deimos have entered, she knows. Melita and Amalia. And Remi and Ronin. There’s a thrill of excitement at the scene - all the Fae and Grounders not-quite-mingling together. She tries to watch the beautiful smaller people out of the corner of her eye whilst making small talk before the event, but in the end it just ends up making her look distracted, so she takes her leave of the Grounder to head inside.

Once she’s made her way down the steps and into the caverns, she follows the directions for non-combatants and finds herself at the top of a series of pits, perfectly positioned to peer over the top and see everything.
Remi Taliesin
the Lullaby

Age: 31 | Height: 5'11 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Nomadic
Level: 14 - Strg: 67 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 93 - Luck: 93 - Int: 3
ORIA - Mythical - Spriggan (Ghost)
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everytime you kiss me
Something about this felt ... familiar. It wasn’t of course, there had been no such trial back in Northaven and yet...something made Remi’s hackles raise as he moved down into the tunnels. Running his hands along the walls, the alchemist’s movements were unhurried. Even so, he could feel his hands wanting to clench into fists every now and then, and he couldn’t quite say why.

“Safrin keep him safe.” Remi whispered under his breath as he came to the eventually conclusion of his own personal tunnel. He...thought all of this was simply for fun, and honestly given how ragey his husband had been lately, a good fight might do him good. Still, his body was not his own, and it was on this that Remi meditated rather than the fight to come.
it's like sunshine and whiskey

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Speaks with a thick Italian accent.
Force and magic can be used against Remi without permission.
Amalia Chandrakant
the Archangel

Age: 29 | Height: 5'6 | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Stormbreak
Level: 5 - Strg: 49 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 52 - Luck: 49 - Int:
JYOTI - Mythical - Starwhale (Humpback)
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Amalia does not know what is going to happen, except that she has no idea why she thought this was a good idea. A shiver courses through her body as she descends into the Drop, anxiety rising in her veins as she is separated and sectioned off, maneuvered into an individual area with nobody but the Fae.

It is dark, but the baker is prepared for that, her crimson staff glowing in the darkness, her silver shield strapped to her left arm. She clings white-knuckled to the length of Luxere antler and wood, her bare feet fidgeting on the ground, mouth dry and black eyes wide as she awaits whatever is to come. "Vi, guide me," Amalia murmurs, before stepping further into the dark.
Melita Najya
the Honeybee

Age: 26 | Height: 5'6" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
Level: 10 - Strg: 55 - Dext: 55 - Endr: 55 - Luck: 55 - Int: 1
FANGORN - Mythical - Vampire Gourd SILA - Mythical - Dragon (Fire Breath)
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She moved like a sprite, limber and lithe, springing down into the columns, into the menagerie, into the chaos – baptized in mayhem and menace’s clutches, a girl who’d held onto peace and repose for as long as she could, before it fettered away into dust and shadow. She was a desert spirit and an untamed inferno, and she’d let the rest of the world see her for what she truly was. The youth didn’t come without other formidable devices, not just herself, not just her pride, not just her ferocity; the anklet from the Naiad shifting along her skin, her bow and quiver (emblazoned tips; vitriol and venom and infernal heat – courtesy of Remi) strapped to her back, her staff humming, hissing in her hands. Then faithful Fangorn, growling at her side.

Wonder, curiosity, and a feverish fervor melted her into different contortions, determined to be a blaze, a fire, an audacious little thing – but for what cause? For what purpose? What remained within these walls, christened and anointed them to the stars, or were they doomed and damned all over again?

A promise slunk into her veins, pulsing in her throat, and she swallowed it whole, eager, ready, decided – stepping forward into the pit.
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
Jigano Silversmith
the Sage
Provost of the Loreseekers Soul Shepherd
Portal Guardian
Age: 36 | Height: 6'2" | Race: Attuned x Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 30 - Dext: 45 - Endr: 38 - Luck: 42 - Int:
ISUMA - Mythical - Griffin (Venomous)
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It was not where he wanted to be, for more reasons than he wanted to count. The sickness that had struck him the morning after he had left the basement had left him bedridden and feverish for days, and his recovery had taken much longer, doubtless exacerbated by his reluctance to go into town and see one of the healers there. It wasn't what he wanted...

But it was what he was going to do. It was something he owed no one but himself, an obligation he could take or leave. He had signed up for the Trials in the guise of Silversmith, a name only a few knew the significance of, and so if he did not appear in that face no one would know. He could walk away from it without consequences or censure.

And because of that, he came. He did so much out of a desperate need to be useful to others, as if he could undo the sins of his past if only he helped enough other people in his present and future, but this was one thing that he would do for himself. A trial seemed oddly fitting, tickling the darker side of his humor, and he dressed in dark greys as befitting the shadow of his former self that his illnesses - both emotional and physical - had left him feeling akin to. He was still, after all, a bard, and a touch of melodrama was as vital to him as air.

His sharp-featured face was gaunt with the remnants of sickness and his signature white hair had been braided and pinned up beneath Silversmith's battered, broad-brimmed hat, but his blue eyes were sharp and Isuma perched on his shoulder, purring quiet reassurance and encouragement as he descended the stairs with the aid of a short staff. His rapier sat on his hip, balanced by a long knife on the other side, and he quickly angled towards the tunnels, following his Fae guides with uncharacteristic silence.

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