January Event: Rejection Rooms

[lifeaftr_mods]

JANUARY EVENT: REJECTION ROOMS

Who: Anyone and everyone!
What: Rejecting your Light comes with dire consequences
When: January 25th - 28th
Where: All over Monsun
Warnings: Violence and possible character death; please note any specific content warnings if they come up!

You're Ruled by the Things You Feel

This log is primarily for the Rejection Room portion of the event, for ease and convenience. To quote our event post:

Characters intent on rejecting their Light will find themselves irrevocably drawn to Monsun's shores. They might not even be aware of it - driven by their rage, their paranoia, their fear, or all of the above, and more. Monsun, for its part, is happy to receive them. Its landscape has become so warped over time...and those parts of Monsun consumed by shadow will start to distort, molding into structures that such characters are only too happy to hide within: Rejection Rooms.

Those who challenge the Rejection Rooms need not worry about death for themselves - damage taken within the rooms will simply translate to exhaustion outside of it, with seemingly mortal wounds leading to expulsion from the room itself, and an inability to re-enter.

The same holds true for the boss of each Room. Failure to beat them into expulsion means that the Room will continue to feed from their wildly catastrophizing mind, until there's nothing left to save at all.

So, simply top-level below with your character if they've signed up for a Rejection Room and prepare for whoever wants to gamble a confrontation. We recommend linking to the comment that details your character's Room, for the benefit of others. Remember to communicate; if your character is still trapped in their Room by the event's end, they will suffer a character death, though characters who merely try and fail to free them will not.

If your Rejection Room opt-in comment did not receive any response or additional discussion from the mod team, consider your Room and moveset approved; we want to allow for retroactive edits to your comments and plans, if those become necessary!

---

Some useful links, for reference:

[ ♆ ] OOC Event Post
[ ♆ ] Rejection Room Sign-Ups, for information on what Rejection Rooms look like
[ ♆ ] Deaths Page; death penalties have been reduced for the duration of this event, but remember to let us know if your character is still stuck in their Room by the event's end!

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] January 20th: The monthly Storytelling occurs.
[ ♆ ] January 21st: Shadows of both initial variants appear.
[ ♆ ] January 23rd: Shadows of both initial variants disappear.
[ ♆ ] January 25th Lights and Rejection Rooms appear.
[ ♆ ] January 28th: Lights and Rejection Rooms dissipate. Those still trapped in their Rejection Rooms by the event's end will suffer a character death.

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[barberian]

(It looks like a storm passed through here, but Yasha does not feel relieved and energised by the thought of that as she usually would. She stoops to fish up a book from the floor, realising too late that it has no pages left in it. The empty cover flops in her hand. She tosses it aside.)

What happened?

(Molly isn't looking at the books. He's started to move toward the center of the room, following the blow-back of debris toward the edge of what looks like a pit. Yasha approaches with a bit of caution, gaze flicking immediately toward the monks lining the edge with their bows at the ready.)

Molly, (she hisses, watching him drop into the pit with nary a worry. She rolls her eyes, draws the Judge, and follows him. Molly might like to appear unarmed, but Yasha wants everybody in this place to know she's not afraid to start shit. Even Beauregard, who stands before them, unnaturally still. She drops a hand onto Molly's shoulder lightly, gaze flicking back to the monks. They don't seem like they might fire, but that doesn't assuage her concern.)

We should get out of here. Something isn't right.

[lesbeau]

[It'd be hard to think that Molly never saw this place in it's grandeur if that's what she was thinking about right now. Her eyes flick between Molly and Yasha, a snap between the pair instead of a lazy drag between friends. She's poised, and ready, and none of Molly's words seem to be changing that.

You better be a quick draw, Molly. You know she's fast.

Beau twists her neck to one side, then the next, cracking the joint there before digging her heels into the sand.]

Yeah, you are.

[It seems like all of the monks at once shout a notice of begin!, and an arrow whizzes from one of the archers directly into Beau's waiting hand. Unlike others who may find her like these, Molly and Yasha know what's coming next as she sends it right for Molly's chest-- but more importantly for the juncture between them. She needs to take them one-by-one, so the first step is to make sure they're not connected, not touching, not working as a unit.

Without missing another beat, she'll circle around Molly's free side, seeming intent on going for him first.]

[devilstongue]

We're not leaving without her. This is-

[ Fuck.

That's really all Molly can think before he's diving out of the way from the arrow sent towards him, whirling around to check that it missed Yasha and drawing his scimitars. He has one up with the flat side towards Beau to help block a strike, while the other is flipped in his hand and drawing a thin line over his forearm to coat it with frost.

Just in case.

Molly will be on the defensive, letting Beau into the fight but only attempting to block and dodge. If she wants to wail on him first, it just meant that he had to yell his idea over at Yasha. ]

The monks! Fuck them up!

[ If they can get them down, maybe things would stop.

Maybe. ]

[barberian]

I don't think that it is her–

(Yasha has to cut herself off in order to get out of the way as the arrow comes straight for the both of them, listening hard to hear if it struck Molly, but it seems to have harmlessly struck the ground instead. She lifts the Judge, hefting it to strike at whatever is closest. Beau seems to have circled back around to Molly. The archers are waiting impassively, their bows once against at the ready.

Yasha hesitates, tightening her grip on her greatsword.)

They aren't doing anything.

(She starts toward one, and they don't even flinch. Their gaze doesn't leave Beau for a second. If they are going to fire at her again like they did only moments before, they could hit Mollymauk; this thought makes her swing back her sword and bring it crashing down onto the weapon of the monk nearest to her, the blade carving through the wood with a loud thunk.)

[lesbeau]

[As soon as the two have stepped apart, Beau wastes no time circling around to Molly. He draws his weapon and she does too- she'll need to get in close to do some real damage, but that involves removing at least one of those swords. That said, she doesn't hesitate as she charges towards him as soon as the words leave his mouth to Yasha, trying to catch him off guard. She takes a number of fast steps before leaping into the air, staff over her head to strike down on him with a yell. Molly will get only one quick warning from the room that something could be amiss- once Beau's feet leave the ground, the sand around his shifts in a single twist, anticipating a strike. Should she hit him, he'll find himself wholly unable to move his legs from that spot.

That said, the monks are taking this a little differently- the Judge splits through an archer's bow, but it doesn't seem to have any effect on the person left there. The weapon is destroyed, arms where they were sliced bloody, but they stand in formation without anything to fire. It's eerie- their eyes are lifeless, directed straight ahead, watching only Beau.

But that doesn't mean it didn't work, to an extent-- the bow doesn't seem to be respawning, and the less projectiles anyone hands to Beau is better for them in this case.]

[devilstongue]

[ There was no time for planning, but Molly and Yasha work well of each other when it comes to fights. This was a little more backwards, though, as Yasha was usually the one keeping the enemy's attention and Molly the one cleaning up the little ones.

This was not as ideal, but Beau didn't seem to want to focus away from him, so here they are. Reversed like an unlucky draw of his cards.

There's a loud crack in the pit as Beau's staff connects with Molly's chest. It's enough to make stumble and gasping for the air she just knocked out of him, but he only manages one step before he's weirdly held in place by... sand?

Gritting his teeth, he makes a gesture to the monk, vein popping on his neck as he tries to blind her for a moment with his maledict. ]

Beau, fuck! Snap out of it!

[barberian]

(She hears Molly's pained gasp and her head whips around, fast enough to catch him stumble away, to see Beau's staff thrust forward in front of her. Oh, nope. Absolutely not. He's tugging his legs fruitlessly in the shifting sand and Beau is advancing upon him with a determination in her eyes that Yasha has seen directed at foes several times, but never at them. Never at the Nein.

She might have discovered the trick to the archers had she stayed with the results of her actions for longer than a few seconds, but she can't ignore Mollymauk being in any danger, not for a moment. Not when he seems intent on sparing his attacker any damage.

If Beau's vision does go black thanks to Molly's maledict, she isn't going to celebrate getting it back. Not when the first thing she sees is Yasha's fist coming in hard and fast, aiming for right between her eyes.)

[lesbeau]

[See, there we go Yasha, now we're participating here.

Beau's only been hit by a maledict once, and unprepared as she is it's enough to make her vision swim, stopping the follow-up punches she would have delivered to him as they go wide. She's got barely enough time for her vision to come back before it's replaced by Yasha's hand coming right at her. She tries to duck and makes it about halfway there, Yasha's blow missing breaking her nose but slamming into her forehead and sending her tumbling backwards into a heap about fifteen feet away. For just a moment, she doesn't move, the sand clinging to the bits of sweat already formed on her limbs.

And then the monks speak, in an almost deafening call.]

Get up.

[Beau pulls herself to her feet, just a small sway in her step as she's righted, dropping back into her stance. Molly's got maybe one more round of being stuck, but seeing as Yasha has appropriately made herself known, it's unlikely she'll be able to get to him before he's free.

She wipes the back of her hand across the blow, hair mussed, and one of the three remaining archers fires. This time though, the arrow from Beau is going straight for Yasha as she invites her to come in and engage.]

[devilstongue]

[ Molly's been kicked by a horse before. He doesn't remember why, but he was probably drunk, high and/or stupid. (His stupidity didn't always come from being under the influence, after all.) Anyway, it had hurt like fuck. This? This was like five horses in a row. He can breathe again, and amazingly there's no blood taste in his mouth. Nothing punctured. His ribs are screaming, though, but he pushes past it.

Yasha has Beau. His turn on the monks.

...he's still stuck. Fucking sand.

Gritting his teeth, Molly glares at one of the monks and spits out angry Infernal to them. ]

!

[ At least that would tell him if they were real-ish or not. ]

[barberian]

(He was all three, Yasha was there.

Beau goes down with a thud that makes her heartbeat spike in her chest, worried and angry all at once. She's listening hard for Molly's breathing without taking her eyes off the crumpled monk lying in a heap about fifteen or so feet away from her. Normally, a punch to the forehead like that would make a wiser person stay down, but they are talking about Beau here. And sure enough, she's back on her feet in moments as if plucked from the ground by a large finger and thumb, swaying a little on the spot.

Molly's ragged inhale and exhale behind her doesn't sound too bad. He sounds winded, but uninjured. Yasha's concern for him drops as he spits something nasty in Infernal behind her, but she doesn't have time to look at who he is aiming those words at.

Beau has flung an arrow at her, easy and fast. Yasha only has moments and even then the arrow still slices her as it passes, dragging a cut into the curve of her arm. She doesn't flinch, simply lets the cool, seething rage steal over her as she takes a step forward. This isn't Beau. Beau wouldn't hurt Molly, wouldn't raise arms against her unless she asked for it. Something is doing a very convincing imitation, but not enough to make Yasha reconsider lunging for her with a roar, her curled fist coming in to meet her stomach.)

[lesbeau]

[The monks seem unresponsive to words, like they can't seem to hear suddenly, they don't know. From the way the archer with the now missing bow is acting, the movements seem routine, automatic despite their forms.

So they can't hear the combatants. But if they can see, and speak... perhaps there are other ways to disable them.

As Yasha charges forward, Mollymauk will find his frozen time nearly ticked to an end, Yasha's blow having burned down the counter in the time it took Beau to get back on her feet. But there's no rest for the wicked as Yasha's terrifying scream rattles out, brings the fight back into focus. Beau waits until she gets in close, almost hits her before trying a juke to the side around the outstretched fist to slam down with her staff against Yasha's back. If she hits, Yasha may find more than her feet sticking to the sand should she tumble harder to the floor. No matter the outcome, she'll drop into her patient defense stance directly after to anticipate another hit.]

[devilstongue]

[ He keeps trying to pull away, and as soon as the sand lets go, he almost falls over. Molly grits his teeth, watching Beau and Yasha go at it for a brief second before he's moving towards the monks on the sides again.

He has to be quick about this. Maybe it wouldn't help at all, but he's good at making dumb decisions.

Molly tries for the first monk that still has a bow, attempting to break the weapon with the glowing radiance of his scimitar - and then Misty Stepping towards the next.

Faster, he thinks, not wanting to leave Yasha alone with Beau, no matter how much stronger they were than him.

If he can get the weapons away, maybe Beau would stop. Maybe this was just a test. ]

[barberian]

(Beau's staff connects and forces Yasha onto one knee into the sand and she's dismayed to find the same fate befalling her as it did Molly. The ground holds her firm in place, right along her lowered leg and try as she might she can't tug herself free. Beau is behind her, and she's crouched in that little defensive maneuver that she frequently does. Watching her.

Yasha's unnerved by it, it's... so unlike her.)

Beau, (she tries, putting down a hand to steady herself but mistake, mistake, now that's stuck too,) ugh-- Molly! (She raises her voice to him, glancing up just in time to watch him misty step away into the distance,) I'm stuck, it's this sand.

[lesbeau]

[Molly's doing well- out of the three remaining archers, one's bow gets knocked out, a slice through the middle, and the second will crumble as well. It also seems she's getting less arrows- the order of the archer's firing doesn't change as they're dispatched, meaning Molly and Yasha can watch as the first one Molly broke raises their broken weapon, tries to fire, and the arrow falls uselessly to the floor before being engulfed in sand.

Meanwhile, Yasha is doing... worse. Beau takes a moment to survey the hits, realizing Yasha is stuck, and has a decision to make. Yasha's gonna be in a pickle for another round or two, and she could use that to get at Molly, get him down again. But by the time she gets there, Yasha will be up and pissed. Molly also isn't hitting her right now-- she has no clue what he's doing, but if he wants to spend his time slapping what might as well be the walls to her, he can do that. So her eyes snap back to Yasha, dropping her stance to bring up her staff and trying to smack down right on the back of her neck. She's gonna stunning strike this shit-- it'll buy her the time she needs to dispatch Molly.

And all the while, she's quiet, save for the harsh breathing from her movement and a noise rising from the sand itself, an unearthly chant of good, good, good.]

[devilstongue]

[ Like Yasha, Molly's head swing around as soon as he hears her call out to him. Baring his teeth, he looks over to the last monk and then back to the fighting women. It's not even a choice - he's coming back for her.

This fucking sand was messing them up. Yasha can't fight with both legs and one hand trapped like that.

Seeing Beau raise the staff to crack it into Yasha, he yells out another Mockery - and starts running towards them. Foregoing the flats of the blades this time, he's going to try to distract her with some actual pain.

Yasha could heal her a little, later. Right? ]

[barberian]

(She's going to have no problem with that at all. Yasha knows exactly what she's doing and tries to bring her arm up to block it, but Beau's staff collides painfully with her wrist and then her neck, and the crack of the wood against her nape hurts something fierce. She's used a stunning strike, too. Insult to injury.

Yasha seethes, her free arm dropping like lead to her side, tingling unpleasantly. Behind her, Molly shouts. She hates the way the ground seems to move beneath her and yet still hold fast to her leg and hand. Try as she might, she can't wrench herself free just yet.)

Keep her from getting another arrow! I'll be free soon, I think.

[lesbeau]

[The hit connects with Yasha as the Mockery comes, causing her to take a step back and clutch at her head. Damnit, he won't shut up. But with Yasha handled, she can shift her attention, even though between the spell and Yasha she doesn't get the bonuses of being prepared when Molly comes for her. She goes for a block but the blades come quickly, only one getting deflected by her staff and the other carving right down her front. Beau hisses in pain as blood comes quickly from the wound, leaving her range limited as she tries to toss him back.

But for the first time since the start of this fight, she also speaks.]

Damnit!

[The archer's round turns, again to one Molly damaged, who uselessly fires nothing into the sand. Only one left, now, but Beau isn't paying attention. If they stay in range with her, that'll be one way to ensure she can't use that weaponry.

In the meantime, she'll run at Molly again, not even bothering to stop the blood dripping down her chest and into the sand, going for a swing at his head with a pop-pop follow up.]

gurl fight gurl fight

[devilstongue]

[ He really doesn't like the way it feels to cut into Beau, and that's probably what distracts him.

The staff cracks into the side of Molly's face, staggering him and making him pierce his tongue with his sharp teeth. The hits that follow is too much, and he sinks to his knees before falling over in the sand, the glow in his eyes dulling as they roll back and he passes out. ]

love a bit of girl on girl action

[barberian]

(Yasha knows that the hits are not enough to kill him, that he's hardier than that, but when Mollymauk folds like paper into the sand and his eyes roll back all she sees is red.

She rips herself out of the sand with a wordless shout of anger, and skeletal, translucent wings burst forth from her shoulder blades, arcing into the air. Past the point of resorting to her fists, she draws the Judge from her back and holds it out in one hand, taking large strides, over Molly's unconscious form on the ground, and turns her pitch black gaze upon- the thing pretending to be Beau. Her heart is thudding in her ears.

Beau is bleeding. Yasha pauses for just a moment, and then she lunges for her, swinging the Judge with reckless abandon to slash across her chest.)

;) ;) ;)

[lesbeau]

[She's already starting to breathe heavier as Molly falls, the cadence of the battle starting to take its toll on her along with the blood dripping down her torso, off her hips, dotting the ground with a trail wherever she goes. It means her reaction is slowed as she turns back to Yasha, even as her scream and the wings unfolding make her eyes go wider and her heart leap into her neck. Shit. Shit shit shit shit sword--

Beau leaps backwards but the sword is fucking big and the end catches her, sending a slash across her collarbones and opening the skin there. Her feet kicking up the sand hurts as it mingles with sweat and exposed flesh and she hisses, but she can't stop, she has to find a way to beat this.

So instead of stopping, because she can't, because she should, because she can't, she leaps and goes twisting towards Yasha again to slam into her head. She's got one more stunning strike left, and something in her is putting in strength and speed she didn't think she had as the monks around her start speaking in tandem, voices starting to rise from nothing to a chant underlying the combat.]

Be strong. Keep going. Don't make us regret this.

[barberian]

(Yasha blocks the sudden strike with the flat of her blade and usually she would lash back, take her sword and cleave whatever it is she's fighting in two but even though this is not Beau, Yasha finds she can't fucking do it. She can't divorce whatever this is from the skin it seems to be wearing, she can't rend Beauregard in half. Seeing her hiss and react to the gash across her collarbone is bad enough, even through the heave of rage roiling and broiling in her gut.

Yasha seethes, and thrusts her backwards with the momentum of her block. The monks around them have started to chant, quiet at first but their voices swell in volume every second until they're almost shouting.)

Stop it! Stop– (she turns her back on Beau, perhaps unwisely, and lunges for them instead. The monks she has no problem with ripping apart with her sword and she swings for one after the other, carving a path through them with a roar of fury.)

[lesbeau]

[Yasha parries her but doesn't retaliate; it's surprising on Beau's end too, whose eyes go wide when her blade catches and she thinks it's over, it's over. Instead she gets tossed back, twisting in midair to land on her feet, even though her legs tremble on impact as her chest heaves with exertion. And then, it happens-- Yasha turns her back and she thinks she has it, she can beat this--

The blade carves right through the monks at the edge, and Beau's hands go to her head instead.

They don't scream out loud when Yasha's sword meets them, but the noise is louder in her head, the pounding of go, go, go like a heartbeat mantra drowning over her other senses. The more of them that fall from the edges enter back to her consciousness, a construct of her mind Yasha doesn't know she's hitting.

The final arrow flies, and strikes Beau directly in her upper arm.

And she screams, rips it out, and leaps onto the archer to pummel him with her hands.]

Fuck you! Stop tossing shit at me! I'll get you first!

[barberian]

(Yasha has no idea what she's doing but she does notice that Beau's strike at her back doesn't come and doesn't come and doesn't come. She has time to knock one more monk down. One becomes two, becomes three, and she's nearing the archer with the final arrow but doesn't make it before it's released, in a long, clean arc right toward the center of the room.

Beau's scream makes her blood run cold. Yasha's lungs feel clogged with ice water, but before she can turn around, her movements suddenly sluggish with shock, Beau is kick-spinning past her to attack the archer herself with nothing but her fists.

She's okay, she isn't dead. She's okay. She isn't dead. Yasha's eyes dart wildly around the room, glancing off of Molly's prone figure in the sand, around the room. All of the monks are down. Beau is taking apart the final archer, and doesn't seem to need any help and so she finally stills, breathing heavily, awash in a cold sweat.)

[lesbeau]

[She isn't dead. Far from it, it seems. She's beaten to shit, of course- blood falls from the still-open wound across her chest, soaking into her shirt below where it too is cut open. The wound from the arrowhead is ragged in her left bicep, and every swing of that arm sends more running down it. Her hair is disheveled, sand caked onto her legs and hands, clinging to sweat anywhere it touches. She's a mess.

But she isn't dead.

Interestingly enough, the monks won't fight to Yasha, falling to her blade effortlessly. But the archer fights with a relentless precision the moment Beau comes at him, like a man trained to tame lions, best wild beats. That said, he's trained for range, and Beau has the arrow- it's a smaller scuffle than he would like before she's plunged it into his eye and cut his scream short by snapping his neck.

Beau sits there, on the corpse she wrestled to the floor, shoulders shaking with every breath. Her voice, when it comes, is small.]

... Yasha? Is... is he okay?

[She probably doesn't mean the archer she beat to death, even if her head is bowed at him.]

[barberian]

(The moment Yasha's heartbeat stops thrumming so loud in her ears she goes to Molly, dropping her sword into the sand as she kneels beside him, lifting his head gently into her lap. He's stable, thanks to the little trinket looped around his neck but she still takes the time to concentrate and touch glowing fingertips to both sides of his face. The spell grants him six hit points back, all that she has to give.

Yasha clears her throat to make sure her voice does not come out hoarse.)

... He's fine, he'll be up again soon.

(She sighs, and brushes his hair back from his forehead.)

Beau, (she says after a beat, her voice low. She's not angry, per say, but she doesn't sound all that calm either.) What was all of that about, exactly?