Entry tags:
- ! event log,
- ! special event,
- a discovery of witches: kit marlowe,
- detroit: become human: chloe,
- fargo: wes wrench,
- final fantasy: sephiroth,
- game of thrones: jon snow,
- locked tomb: harrowhark nonagesimus,
- marvel: david alleyne,
- marvel: jean-paul beaubier,
- marvel: logan,
- marvel: loki odinson,
- marvel: quentin quire,
- marvel: thor odinson,
- marvel: wade wilson,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- uncharted: nathan drake
SPECIAL EVENT: The Flower Oracle

✖ Meet The Oracle
A low thrumming sound builds in the background noise of the raised village, starting so softly that it would be easy to mistake it for the ever present hummingbirds. It keeps building slowly, somehow managing to be both a sound and to bypass the ear as it hums in the bones. The local Temple Guardians bump heads and brush against each other, quietly affirming their bond as they divide their duties: one staying with the local Temple and the other winding through the paths of the village down to the bud of the Flower Oracle in its place of honor in the city center.
The villagers stop what they’re doing, not quite in a panic, but their speed is deliberate and definite. They gather things on their way, flower wreaths, fish, beautiful food, sharp knives, until everyone has something in their arms. There is an ecstatic tension in the air, after all, the time has come when these people will yet again see substantial proof of their god, and it seems they have forgotten all about the Travelers who might have joined them. There is plenty of room for everyone to gather in a circle around the green bud that has grown even larger.
The thrum rises until it is hard to breathe, until some of the structures around begin to groan in the onslaught, and then it stops, suddenly. In the vacuum of silence, there is a wet and meaty sound as the bud begins to open, a first hint of things that look like red lips and white teeth. A canny Traveler might be forgiven for running at that point. The visceral sound of the splitting, of this birthing, continues as the bud splits, then splits again as the four sepals fall open, exposing an inner surface that glistens red and is lined at the edges with white sharp growths that may be fangs. The villagers ignore the implicit threat. They have eyes only for the structure in the middle.
Who can blame them? Translucent petals form a breathing tower, curled tight and perfect as a seashell. A glow pulses like a heartbeat as the petals slowly unfurl, collapsing elegantly to reveal the Oracle and provide protection against the threat of the sepals. The Flower Oracle is beautiful, glowing, soft and round. She is initially surrounded by four guards, each masculine and clearly dangerous, but they move aside to leave a clear path. The villagers line up with their sacrifices, and there is ritual patience in the act. Everyone will have their time with the Oracle, and anyone must be allowed their time alone within the petals.
The villagers stop what they’re doing, not quite in a panic, but their speed is deliberate and definite. They gather things on their way, flower wreaths, fish, beautiful food, sharp knives, until everyone has something in their arms. There is an ecstatic tension in the air, after all, the time has come when these people will yet again see substantial proof of their god, and it seems they have forgotten all about the Travelers who might have joined them. There is plenty of room for everyone to gather in a circle around the green bud that has grown even larger.
The thrum rises until it is hard to breathe, until some of the structures around begin to groan in the onslaught, and then it stops, suddenly. In the vacuum of silence, there is a wet and meaty sound as the bud begins to open, a first hint of things that look like red lips and white teeth. A canny Traveler might be forgiven for running at that point. The visceral sound of the splitting, of this birthing, continues as the bud splits, then splits again as the four sepals fall open, exposing an inner surface that glistens red and is lined at the edges with white sharp growths that may be fangs. The villagers ignore the implicit threat. They have eyes only for the structure in the middle.
Who can blame them? Translucent petals form a breathing tower, curled tight and perfect as a seashell. A glow pulses like a heartbeat as the petals slowly unfurl, collapsing elegantly to reveal the Oracle and provide protection against the threat of the sepals. The Flower Oracle is beautiful, glowing, soft and round. She is initially surrounded by four guards, each masculine and clearly dangerous, but they move aside to leave a clear path. The villagers line up with their sacrifices, and there is ritual patience in the act. Everyone will have their time with the Oracle, and anyone must be allowed their time alone within the petals. Notes:
Characters who wish to approach the oracle need to respond to the thread titled ‘Meet the Oracle’. After they get their response, they can post a separate reaction thread to play out some of the consequences of the event.
Responses to the Oracle Thread should include: a short description of their IC reaction/actions, a description of what they bring for a sacrifice, and their question for the ancient. Villagers will have let them know that traditional options include: fish, flowers, art, blood, secrets, or memories. Characters/players may come up with their own sacrifices. Please include a note if the character helped decorate the local temple this month.
WARNING: Contacting the Oracle may result in negative IC results for characters, and there is a degree of randomness in how the mods assign results.

Angelo Salucci
So he takes a step closer to the Oracle when it's his turn, his hands in fists, jaw set firmly with steel resolve. His sacrifice is a secret, one he hasn't told, one he won't tell to anyone else as long as he lives, that sits in his gut like a kernel of poison his body can't flush out. Bullshit this ritual might have been before now, but watching the Oracle appear Angelo is convinced that he can get something from this if he gives the right thing in return.
He looks over his shoulder before he speaks, both ways, like he's making sure they really are alone, and the words he says first are his sacrifice, a low mumble, between himself and the Oracle: "I killed my brother."
It tastes strange in his mouth to say it. He never had any reason before. He clears his throat, and almost visibly brushes it aside, like he'd never said it. "Alright, here's my question. When do I get what's mine? Once I'm out of this place, how long will I have to wait before my father gives me control of the family?"
CW: Plant as Parasite/Trypophobia
When the Ancient arrives, there's a near physical weight to her presence in the darkened eyes of the Oracle. Big sacrifices provide big energy and big leverage, and it's hard to imagine Angelo sacrificing anything bigger at this point. And then he asks his question.
The pitying curve to the Oracle's smile belongs to the greater than her looking at Angelo like the shelter cat that refuses to be socialized. Unlike the cat, he is aware of the situation and his possible choices, and the punishment will reflect that. After all, at this point, who says he will ever make his way back?
"You will get yours soon," she murmurs in her softest tones, the only warning she has to give as she reaches out and taps his chest. A seed is planted under his skin, harmless and painless for the moment. Any time Angelo inflicts harm on others for the next month, be it verbal, emotional, or physical, the seed will begin to grow under his skin, weaving an agonizing network of thorny vines throughout his body. Moments of kindness will cause a partial retreat of the vines. At the end of the month, the vine will wither and die leaving black linework tattoos in their place.
[Mod Note: If this punishment will cause you, the player, distress due to phobia/ect, please let us know and we can adjust it accordingly. The game should always be pretendy funtimes, not painful for the players.]