May 2022 Mini Event

[jigokumods]

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As the Haniwa continue to pop up in the city and the turf war rages on, life goes on in the city.

1. SHUTEN CLAN

Remember the Isonade? Yeah, those guys. The surly shark-dudes who were no doubt involved in some black market smuggling along the banks of the Sanzu. They were too tough to fight off in order to figure out what they were up to, last time.

Well, Toraguma has caught wind of them now. Despite the ongoing turf war, he’s not about to lose out on an opportunity here! He wants his Shuten Clan operatives to scour the river looking for these guys. They will be a lot harder to find without the rabbits’ help, though. If you find them, you are to “inform them” that the Shuten Clan will be taking over their operation. If they have problems with that, well… you know what to do.

Don’t forget that they’re quite strong and that they aren’t too keen on giving up the information on their supply line without a fight. You’ll need to use teamwork to get what you need out of them.

Should you manage your way to their warehouse, you’ll find a fresh shipment of their products: specialized herbs, mineral-rich clay, and rarefied ore. None of these products can be found in the city naturally. The Isonade won’t dare name their primary buyer but they will let slip that all of this is being smuggled into the city from the outer Wastelands.

The Shuten Clan will demand their cut out of this operation, but you may get the impression that this is only one small piece of a much larger shadow creeping over the city…

Art by Alejandro Gonzalez Agudelo

2. SUTOKU ALLIANCE

The death and subsequent “rebirth” of the Daitengu has caused a considerable amount of chaos. Many of the subsidiary tribes have struggled under the weight of uncertainty during this debacle. The Daitengu has decided that an apology tour is owed. It’s good for the sake of the Alliance, after all.

Oh, but they’re not going to be doing it themselves. You, the Sutoku Lost Souls, will be fully responsible for it. ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

Sutoku Souls are tasked with going to various businesses and tribe centers with an offering of gifts and deference to any and every group within the Alliance who will agree to meet with you. The gifts have been provided by the Daitengu, and are mainly snacks and coupons. Which will not be enough to please everyone. Some clans will demand more and some, in their rage, will try to take their anger out on you. You are an (lowly) ambassador right now, better to turn the other cheek.

This all boils down to be less of an apology tour and more of a bribe tour. What the Daitengu has provided won’t cover everything and you’re going to have to go out of pocket to truly placate the other clans. If you don’t have enough cash on hand, you may be asked to do various unpaid tasks and labors: washing dishes, scrubbing floors, cleaning windows, taking out the trash, serving kids’ birthday parties; any amount of the lowest work you can imagine.

It’s rough! But somebody’s gotta do it

3. DEPARTMENT OF THE ENMA

The chaos of the Night Parade has caused a resurgence of unaffiliated gangs popping up around Jigokucho. They can usually be found identifying themselves through the use of basic colors and mascots. They are made up almost entirely of violent youths with uncertain futures, who are lashing out at an uncaring world. The antics of the Daitengu, the accusations against the Enma, and the squabbling between Shuten and Tamamo is not inspiring their confidence nor loyalty.

In addition to this problem, the retrieval of the Haniwa is going poorly. Most residents are too uncomfortable to even touch the statues and their appearances don’t seem to be slowing down. There are too many for the Department to collect.

With an abundance of cursed objects in town, the petty gangs have decided this is an ample resource for them. They are using the Haniwa to harass the general public and against one another. They have weaponized the excess Haniwa and are using them as “curse bombs”, hurling them at both each other and the residents they want to intimidate. It’s getting nasty.

It’s the Department’s job to keep the Haniwa figures from falling into the wrong hands and to keep some semblance of order. The official orders from the Office of the Enma are directing all hands to converge against the youth gangs. Use any force necessary and retrieve those figurines.

4. TAMAMO CLAN

How inconvenient! In addition to the complications of the turf war, an extremely important time of the year has arrived for the Tamamo Clan.

It is time for the yearly visit of one of the clan’s greatest benefactors: the Tennin. These Celestial Immortals descend from the Heavenly Realms to spend time (and incredible amounts of money) in Hell’s Playground, Jigokucho. Hell simply offers the sort of delights you just can’t get in Heaven. Due to Tenkohime’s connections with them, the Celestials have had her host them for several years in a row now. She emphasizes how incredibly important it is to keep them happy.

The Celestials want entertainment and delights of every variety. It’s up to the Tamamo Clan’s Lost Souls to entertain them. Your entertainments can take many forms: keeping the Celestials company, putting on a performance, showing off your cooking and skills, tea ceremonies, and other exhibitions. Should you choose the carnal and kinky route for entertainments, know that you won’t be laying down with any Celestials themselves. Oh, no no no, they’re Heavenly, after all! This is still performance, so you may need a partner to help you out.

Keep in mind that the legends are true! The Celestials are deeply deeply fond of peaches. Both literal and metaphorical. 🍑

The Celestials love to chat and gossip, so keeping them entertained is also an excellent way to hear some interesting information. Tamamo artisans will likely learn that many Celestials openly trade with Tenkohime. In fact, the aphrodisiac goods that the Tamamos so famously deal in come, in large part, from the Celestials. Tamamo isn’t the only clan they do business with either. They also have connections within the Sutoku Alliance and are the land owners of several Alliance properties. They are considered one of the primary sources of capital in the real estate market.

Why would the Celestials want properties in a world they literally can’t live in? Doesn’t that just reek of capitalism.

5. TURF WAR (ALL FACTIONS)

The turf war between the Shuten and Tamamo clans is at a simmer right now. Which doesn’t mean that it’s over – not even close. Minor magical traps, similar to those found in the sewer, have been found in Shuten territory. Frustrated Shuten enforcers have been taking out their anger on anyone that so much as looks at them funny. Bars in both districts are regularly getting smashed up. Knife fights are breaking out in the streets. Cars known to belong to members of both clans turn up with slashed tires. There’s even rumors of hits being taken out on higher ranking members.

Watch your step if you’re out and about in either territory. Faction affiliation doesn’t matter when tensions are running high. What’s more, rumors are flying all over about which of the two warring clans is going to be the one to escalate the violence further.

Will tensions boil over at any moment? At what point does the Department of the Enma have to step in? Why haven’t they already?

It’s all getting too much to handle…

6. CURSED OBJECTS (ALL FACTIONS)

The presence of the Haniwa is having increasingly frightening effects. There are whispers about blood coming out of the walls and the floors in apartments, about black ooze pouring from faucets and coming up from storm drains. There are even whispers of terrible household hauntings.

These aren’t just rumors though. Bars are having to close early due to the presence of wailing ghosts inhabiting the toilet or blood pouring from the taps. People run screaming out of alleyways pursued by ghostly hands.

These curses and hauntings seem to be fairly localized; kept to one building or one block at a time. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much rhyme or reason as to when these accursed sightings will take effect.

Be careful out there! Who knows what could happen with so much terrible energy running rampant.

Welcome to the mini event!

• If you have any questions about event content, please ask them here!
• FOR THE PURPOSES OF REWARDS, since all of these prompts tie into the main plot in some way, we will count all qualified threads in this post as 2 point threads!
• If you have questions about the game itself, please check out the premise, FAQ, and rules pages.

Comments

rokurou rangetsu ▶ shuten

[swordhardy]

I. SHUTEN: ❝Isonade? More like Iso-nice.❞
ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sʜᴜᴛᴇɴ.

[ Crouched beside the Sanzu, Rokurou studies the odd river and his reflection in it while scanning for shark men ... to no avail. It's difficult to see anything below the surface. Should he just start swimming to try and find them? With a shrug, he stands, glancing back to his clan-assigned partner. ]

So we're supposed to find these guys and threaten them, right?

[ Those are orders that he's pretty comfortable with, challenge in finding them aside. Born into the Rangetsu clan, the directive to threaten and kill were pretty much the norm—which is why Rokurou has been fiddling with his knife this whole time, flicking it between his knuckles mindlessly, impatient to actually get it in direct contact with some flesh. Cutting is what he does best. And as far as working as a pair, he feels like he's pretty flexible ... as long as he's the one who gets to go in for the kill. ]

How do you want to do this when we do find them? We should figure that out first. Something like bad cop and even badder cop? You tell 'em that we're taking over and then I try to kill them anyway, no matter what they say. [ he hums, finally pausing the fiddling with his knife to consider his plan, ] Then after I fight them, we get into a life or death battle to decide who's the strongest between us. I think that sounds pretty good.

[ Someone's (happily) forgetting the actual goal of Toraguma's orders. ]

II. TAMAMO: ❝I always feel like somebody's watchin' me.❞
ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ; ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ɴsғᴡ.

[ Despite tensions between the Shuten and Tamamo, Rokurou has no qualms in visiting Tamamo establishments. The drinks are better, the company is good, and ... the drinks are better. That's about where his thoughts begin and end when it comes to choosing a club or bar under Tenkohime's thumb rather than Toraguma's. The boss man never said they couldn't hang out with the Tamamo while they were knocking heads over the Underground. Or if he did, Rokurou's been blissfully unaware of that particular order.

But the new patrons are a bit of surprise. They seem to watch, very intently, while refraining from directly indulging of the vices the club has to offer. Everything they pay for has been hands off, as though they're living vicariously through the debauchery of others. ]

So they hang around wanting watch everyone? Must be nice to be filthy rich. [ he's assuming they're wealthy from how they seem to be freely buying every entertainment possible, generously handing out tips on top of everything else. sure, a lot of the visitors he's seen before have been generous, but these guys take the cake. ] If they're that important, I guess I get it.

[ Rokurou takes another sip from his glass, finishing it off. It's only the second but the warmth of alcohol keeps the grin on his face, tingling from his fingertips to his toes. Even though he's usually in a good mood, a touch of tipsiness puts him in an even better mood.

If you're a Tamamo: ]

Alright. If you've gotta entertain them, then use me. I don't mind at all.

[ And if you're any other faction: ]

Should we get into a little trouble? I'm curious about those guys. Maybe they'll even buy us a few drinks.

III. TURF WAR: ❝How about we just put 'em in a big hole?❞
ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ.

[ A struggle over a third clan's territory between two unrelated clans—looking at the chaos now, it feels like everyone's involved. Yet orders are to directly engage with the Tamamo, not some street punks causing trouble, so Rokurou's been trying to pick out the Tamamo clansmen from the chaos. It isn't too difficult when they all seem to be good looking and clever. It rules out a lot of the potatofaced kids running around throwing Haniwa like bombs.

Frankly, when it comes to people he wants to beat the shit out of, it's his fellow Shuten. The physically strong are those who get him excited, that have his fingers itching with a need to engage in battle. While the Tamamo are certainly clever and talented, it isn't exactly the same. Which is why he's been dealing with them all in the same way.

He dug a hole. A deep hole. And he's just been sticking them in there. So far, it's been pretty successful. ]

Hey. You're Tamamo, right? [ he stops his stroll when he fits someone who he thinks fits the bill, not even waiting for confirmation when he reaches to grab and sling them over his shoulder, ] C'mon, let's go.

[ Of course, whether he succeeds in slinging this feisty little fox over his shoulder to carry them off to a ❗secondary location❗ is up in the air. This might be even worse if you're not actually from the Tamamo clan. He's only been here a few weeks and is going off of an extremely flimsy ruler for this, after all! ]

IV. CURSED OBJECTS: ❝Dude, you're getting ghost blood in my drink.❞
ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛᴏ ᴀʟʟ.

[ The hauntings have moved along the main streets, with Haniwa popping up in left right center, every corner. Rokurou isn't the smartest guy on the block but it doesn't take much to put two and two together—ghostly voices wail, blood drips, white hands weave in the darkness, all around where those dolls seem to cluster up the most.

Of course, none of that's really his business. Which is why he refuses to budge from the stool of the most recent bar caught under the deluge of hauntings next; when the lights began flickering and the moans echoed, all of the other customers had fled in terror, and the bartender had encouraged him to leave as well. In the end they had reached an agreement: Rokurou could stay as long as he locked up after he was gone. With that, he too had fled, terrified.

The daemon still sits at the bar, sipping a drink as blood oozes down the walls around him. Despite the activity, none of the hauntings come in direct contact with him—probably because his aura is even worse, thick with malevolence and resentment that not even a swarm of ghostly fingers want to grope. Fine enough for him.

He's actually in the middle of giving those hands names as they pop up. Ichite, Nite, Sante, Shite, Gote... he isn't exactly imaginative. The door's wide open from when the bartender had forgotten to shut it behind him, just waiting for someone who doesn't know that it's under a siege of haunting to stroll inside.

Or maybe you do know. Either way, it's cool. Don't mind the sludge that drips to the floor or the ominous groans coming from upstairs. ]

Hey. You thirsty? I can play bartender. [ Rokurou nods at his fellow patron, picking up a bottle he has next to his drink—another moan echoes through the bar, but he doesn't even acknowledge it as he pours himself another drink. ] This whiskey is pretty nice.

[ A disembodied hand creeps along the counter, slow. Rokurou glances down at it before thonking the bottom of that bottle right on top of its white, veiny knuckles.]

No, not for you.

V. WILDCARD: ❝Who am I to judge anyone?❞

ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴠɪʙᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟsᴇ? ʜɪᴛ ᴍᴇ!

iv.

[everblooms]

[ The flurry of action that comes rushing through the door is a woman; a brunette with a long, rope-twisted braid and clever green eyes. In her arms is a bottle of whiskey— if he's eagle-eyed enough, he'll note that it's the same brand he's been tending to and the smile on her face is brilliantly sunny. ]

Here I am! Special delivery from Jack In The F... [ Hold on a moment, she thinks, looking around the bar with raised brows and an open mouth. The bleeding walls tell a story all their own, but the image of a man sat still at the bar tells it's own tale. ] ...ox...? [ She tilts her head, curiosity splashing across her face as the moans echoing in the building hit a strange crescendo. It sounds like an earthquake. A noise not unlike a sight leaves her as she realizes what's happened— the reason that the bartender asked for someone to replace his stock of this brand had been because of... this guy.

This is a real headscratcher to her, but she supposes it's mostly harmless. Her stunned silence is broken by the man's question, and she supposes it's a fair one. Does she want a hard drink? She's thinking yes. ]

Hmmm. [ She comes to place the bottle down, settling in beside him. The door blows open, and a picture falls to the floor, the glass frame shattering. Aerith cants her head. ]

But he really wants a shot, too! If you're playing bartender, you could get a good tip from the guy, I bet. [ The ghostly hand has returned, indeed, reaching out for the living once more. The whole place shudders with anticipation, the walls oozing bright red blood even more. It's gathering along the floor in an impressive pool, and so Aerith raises her feet off the floor. ]

Ew. [ Ah, the ghostly hand flips the bird before disappearing again. ]

Hey! Rude! [ Turning back to him, as if he'll share in her misery, Aerith huffs. This is a scandal, and her anger is worn like a badge of honor. ] Can you believe that? [ The light over her head flickers before going out. These ghosts really don't like her, apparently. ]

[swordhardy]

And risk the Enma coming down on me if that hand is underage? No way.

[ Rokurou rests the rim of his glass against the edges of sharp teeth as she sits down beside him to reenact an iconic bit of early aughts media, visible golden eye flicking upward toward the ceiling when another guttural moan exhales through the bar like a heaving breath. Pressure looms as the curse of the Haniwa curtains around them, falling like a sheet snapped over a mattress and left to float down; the daemon seated beside her remains at ease, with no tension in the cords of his muscles. Not even a clenched jaw.

But when blood pools at the feet of their stools Rokurou has to mimic her in raising feet—he's a relic of the past, dressed in purple and orange falls of kimono, tabi, with well-worn zori to match. Wet socks are no bueno in his book, having long since learned that scrubbing gore out of white takes hours.

She turns to look at him and the light flickers out. In the dark, she's still clear to him—the eye hidden behind a thick fringe of inky hair takes over for sight, focusing in on her svelte silhouette. He smiles while reaching for one of the abandoned glasses left behind by the bartender, flipping it over to pour a fresh glass. It tinks against the slick wood, and the glug of that whiskey's pour stands out in new eerie silence. The ghosts have decided to go quiet for a minute, leaving them in long shadows with whispers of dripping ooze to tickle their ears. ]

Really rude. At least it didn't try to get handsy, right? [ making jokes? yes. yes he is. ] Here.

[ He leans over to slide the new glass directly in front of her; he's a brush of dark strands and cool sleeve with the faint scent of warmed earth. ]

I didn't know the actual bartender was expecting a delivery. Do I have to sign anywhere?

[ There's a lilt to his voice, a natural rasp trimmed with good humor as he turns to press fingers back over the mouth of his own glass. To the right, in the dark belly of the building, three lightbulbs flicker on one by one down a long hallway. At the end a black figure now stands, unmoving.

Rokurou takes another swig from his glass and looks down the hallway with a raised eyebrow before looking back to her. ]

Your boyfriend?

[everblooms]

[ Does Enma just know when laws are broken? She wonders, but doesn't ask. She can tell looking at this man that he's not someone aligned with Enma— the quip is unnecessary, all things considered. So the pair of them sit in (relative) silence for a time, as she watches him raise his feet to avoid the bloodied lake growing beneath them. Hope this place has insurance, she thinks.

His comment gets a displeased twist of her features aimed at him; handsy? She could handle it, probably. (How do you banish a ghost that's more likely to be part of a giant yarn-ball of ghosts, anyway?) He only adds to the strangeness of his comment by pouring her a drink— it comes with a whiff of overturned earth. Familiar, she knows, and calming in other respects. She thinks not of a fresh garden in this context, however, but a graveyard.

She really wishes she had something to sign. It'd be a way smoother way of getting this guy's name— already, he's pretty unforgettable. ]

Nope, I just deliver what's already paid for. He said something about someone drinking him out of house and home?

[ She may be embellishing a little.

The glass catches the flickering, dying lights in a way that accentuates it's amber hue, making it even more saturated looking in Aerith's eyes. She sees her reflection in it: Tired, a little worn down, and all too familiar for it. It's only when she picks it up to join him that he rouses her attention again with another strange question. ]

Hm? [ Her head snaps in the same direction before she comprehends. ] Ohh. No. [ The figure stands there... menancingly. She imagines this is an attempt to scare them, or to make them feel trapped, but Aerith has been spending enough time with the Haniwa by her side to care much. She only tilts her head a little before swinging around to look at the man who has poured her a drink. ]

Looks like he's asking for a dance! You want to join him?

[swordhardy]

[ Maybe this is how you know if someone's seen some shit: they sit at a bar with drink in hand and just look down a long hallway at a figure jerking its stiff legs toward them like, this may as well happen today.

Objectively, is it creepy? Sure. But having been through plenty of ruins and underground tunnels with daemons much creepier (not to mention all of Hakagemachi), he can really only just go ah and keep sipping from his glass. When she spins back and their eyes meet, he's a little surprised she's so even-keel about it. A gal with thick skin, huh? ]

Oooh no. I don't dance. Sorry, bud.

[ The figure suddenly stops again, still trying to menace two people who are not in the mood to be menaced, before the lights flicker again, this time rapidly. Within one of those gaps it vanishes, leaving the hallway eerily empty with the sense that it's still approaching despite having left no trace of itself. A single lamp slowly swings back and forth.

For a moment all seems back to normal. The walls no longer ooze blood, the lights have flickered back on steadily, and the moans have ceased. The bar's a bit worse for wear, with broken glass scattered across the floor and all the chairs scattered from everyone fleeing earlier, but other than that. Rokurou glances around, finally perplexed. The lack of haunting is more concerning than haunting at this point. ]

Think I hurt his feelings?

[ Without warning, the front door slams shut and the lock clicks. The daemon blinks and scratches his neck, leaning back slightly to peer at the door that just locked itself. ]

... Hope you didn't have any more deliveries to make.

[everblooms]

[ The facial gymnastics she goes through as she watches the way the haunting unfold could win accolades. Aerith looks askance to the ghost who seems to be doing little more than pitching a fit to her eyes— as the lights flicker on and off, she can only fold her arms and wait.

Aerith does know better, she thinks, when the whole thing comes to a halt. When you're spinning in the eye of the storm, everything seems calm; the blood pooling at their seems like a bruise in her eyes. ]

Don't know! But, he's not done yet.

[ Her lips pucker before jutting out in a frown, and then she rests her elbows upon the bar and waits. He's right to feel discontent at the sudden silence, she thinks, hooking the heels of her heavy-soled boots into the foot rest of the bar stool. It's only then, after settling in, that the ghost continues it's haunting with the door slamming shut, and locking.

At his remark, she snorts before standing up. ]

Oh, no, mister. You're not going to fool me. You just want some attention, huh. [ Blood sloshes around her foot. Aerith takes long, heavy steps in the small lake of blood that's grown beneath her feet. In contrast to her samurai drinking buddy, her sensible dark boots have high tops that droop around her ankles— it's much less likely for her to get some in her shoes like this. However, the lace at the hem of her flowy, pink dress will surely stain sooner than later like this...

She tries the door— it's locked.]

Geez. Not a one date kind of guy, is he?

cursed objects(+ people because, yanno.)

[worldbent]

No, thank you.

[Matoba draws a slow eye up and over the blood-stained floors, the blood-soaked walls, and the ghastly hands that were wavering down towards him; one tries to snatch for his hair and a shadowy figure rises up from the floor behind him with a spear, and dispels it with a wretched screech.]

[His eye finally comes to rest on Rokurou, who has the distinction of feeling even less pleasant than the rest of this place. Matoba's eye strains, his smile unpleasant.]

I came because the owner asked me to take care of things here.

[Behind him, Rokurou might feel the sudden blip of a presence- before another of those slippery spear-wielding shadows strikes at him.]

[swordhardy]

[ The single golden eye that studies Matoba is sharp despite the ease of the smile beneath. His right remains hidden behind a thick fringe of inky hair, even when he moves, quickly leaning out of the way of the shadowy strike—all while keeping his glass of whiskey in hand, safe and unspilt. ]

H'oh! Getting bold. [ it's a deft dance of fingers; a knife gleams through the shadow as he flicks it behind it over his shoulder with arrow accuracy, dispelling the darkness before thonking dead center into a cabinet behind the bar. ] This ghost, not you.

[ He turns his attention back onto the calvary with that same smile. Sent to take care of things here—exorcist? He smells like one. A familiar scent, one that still cloaks the remnants of his own clan. It's something Rokurou finds unpleasant for an array of reasons, but the smile doesn't falter for a moment. ]

Or maybe you too. Go ahead, don't let me stop you from working.

[ The man dressed in falls of kimono and armor makes no moves to leave the bar. Instead, he sits back down onto his stool, making himself nice and comfortable against the backdrop of ominous black sludge oozing down from faucet behind the bar. The liquid moves, trying to take the shape of something with an airy moan, a long arm forming out of the ooze with groping, oozing fingers.

But, it doesn't venture out from the sink. It's as though it doesn't quite know what to do about either of them.

Rokurou takes another swig of his whiskey, unperturbed. ]

[worldbent]

[Matoba is walking inward to inspect the space as Rokurou dispels his familiar, and a moment later it pools in the shadows at his feet and reappears next to him, instead- its featureless mask-face, even with only eyeholes with which to emote, seems to look back at Rokurou with an expression approaching a spooked cat.]

[Tsk. This one was going to be a pain, then.]

...Hm? I can be bolder, if you'd like. [He's tracing his fingers along the wall as if feeling for something, and when the faucet starts to ooze, he frowns in that direction. With a tilt of his chin, his shiki moves through the shadow in a blink, grabbing onto the moaning apparition in the sink and forcefully yanking it out. It's flung onto the floor where it wails louder, until it's stabbed through by one of those ofuda-plastered spears, dissolving into dust.] ...But it will have to wait until I'm done with this job.

I wasn't offered enough to deal with you. Did I get your hopes up?

[swordhardy]

[ Hoho... ]

I'm just here to finish my drink.

[ Which he raises toward the other man in a mocking toast before knocking the rim back against his teeth. Between the apparitions crawling throughout the bar and an exorcist, there's no question to him which is the more troublesome—the ghosts here wouldn't have the balls to actually attack him. When it comes to malevolence and spiritual pressure his is superior to whatever the Haniwa are stirring up, filthy as it may be. There's also the fact that like is comfortable with like; a daemon is perfectly at home among cursed things.

This man? Rokurou knows nothing about. He's interesting, which is why the gleam of a golden eye remains fast on him even as the sink continues to leak black and the boards beneath their feet begin to groan. ]

And I'm a paying customer. [ he shrugs, watching the black sludge shrivel beneath that brutal piercing with a manic sort of glee, ] They're not.

[ And apparently they're not yet giving up. More sludge oozes down from the panels of the walls as a wailing cry cuts through the air; Rokurou leans to the left to avoid dripping goo from staining the shoulder of his kimono. Drinks and a show, what fun. ]

i - henlo my slumscapee

[no_kyouken]

[ Majima is relaxed back into the grassy hill that leads back up to the walkways. That's all making great sense until he gets to the part about fighting to the death for fun. Well, as it turns out Majima is also a feral who loves to fight but... ]

Hey, focus here. You an' me can settle it at th'Arena when we're done.

[ He draws on his cigarette. ]

An' yeah sure, if ya ain't th'negotiatin' type we can gut 'em. If they give us too much trouble I got my mask, can slap 'em around with th'snake.

[ The uwabami and Majima are quite tightly entwined. He's half a snake as it is and he can transform into an enormous one with his mask. ]

heelloooo 😊

[swordhardy]

[ Rokurou scrubs his neck while trotting back to Majima like a puppy that's suddenly remembered where it's supposed to be. ]

I'm only really good at cutting, but ... well, I'll follow whatever orders. If we're negotiating I can try.

[ But he can't help that needle of disappointment at the prospect of resolving this peacefully. Waiting for the Arena instead of going straight into a second fight is also disappointing, but he can tolerate shelving that one for the sake of the job. He can be patient.

At least Majima's cool with gutting the Isonade. Assured that it's at least an option if negotiations break down, the daemon perks up happily once more, scanning the line of the river from the grassy hill. They should be pretty obvious once they do see them, assuming they aren't swimming around the river. Hulking shark brutes don't exactly blend in. ]

Those rabbits are gone ... guess we're hunting today. [ he grins a little, ] Or should I say fishing?

[no_kyouken]

They're gonna think they're bigger than us an' can do what they want. [ Majima knows how this goes. ] We're gonna have t'hit 'em, but it's only polite t'offer first.

[ A wry twist of his mouth. ] Long stretch've river, but I should be able t'hear 'em stompin' around as we come up on 'em.

[ Vibration hearing, a surprisingly useful snake skill. ]

When find 'em, I can do th'talking an' I'll let ya know when it's time to swing. Bad cop, worse cop ain't a bad way t'put it.

[ So he gets up to his feet, pulling on his cigarette as he straightens himself out. Time to find some sharks. ]

[swordhardy]

Sounds good to me.

[ More of a follower by nature and younger to boot, Rokurou's happy to trail along for this portion of the job. The oni that clung to him in Hakagemachi has since gone quiet, without so much as a peep from the moment he had arrived in Hell. Not that Akame would have been much help here—one of the problems with housing a youkai too similar to you. You tend to solve things the same way.

And in this case, he'd just have kept walking along the river. Maybe cast out a pole with some bait. Good old tenacity and stubbornness.

Eyes on the horizon, he keeps an eye out for the Isonade. He's already seen them before, so he knows what they're looking for—and he's back to messing around with his knife between his fingers. ]

Can we get a drink when we're done, too?

[ Fights and alcohol. These are his priorities. ]

iii

[hellborne]

[ if there's one thing about jack in this form is that they're very light and easy to pick up. of course, they still have their weapons and killer's intuition, but the sad thing is that they can be easily overpowered if they're not being careful.

unfortunately, a moment of letting their guard while doing their job as a bouncer down means that rokurou has the perfect chance to pick them up. of course, jack is not happy. ]

Wha-- put me down!!!

[swordhardy]

[ Slim? Blonde? Pretty? Yeah, this is a Tamamo. Maybe it's wrong of him to stereotype this way, but it just seems to fit from everything he's seen and hear about that group. So Rokurou doesn't even question his choice to scoop this one up and just toss them right over his shoulder. Sorry not sorry about the manhandling. They're surprisingly light—which just makes his job easier. ]

I will, just not here. You're going in the hole.

[ That... sounds ominous?! But the daemon happens to say it quite cheerfully, like the hole is somewhere fun, strapping an arm around their waist to keep them pinned in place. There's even a pep in his step as he heads down an alleyway off the main street. ]

Don't squirm too much or I'll drop you.

[ You know. Before dropping them into the hole. ]

[hellborne]

The what?!

[ what the FUCK is "the hole"?!

that said, jack doesn't stop moving. even if they can get one arm free, they'll reach for the knife in their holster in an attempt to defend themselves, pointing the tip of the knife against the nape of the man's neck. ]

Lower me now, or I'll make sure you regret it.

[swordhardy]

[ Squirmy. The daemon tries to keep Jack from moving, but having him slung over his shoulder this way isn't the most conductive to restraining all of his limbs too. Damn, maybe he should've tied this one up? Who knew they'd be so wiggly? All the others cried and went limp as a wet noodle. ]

Aaah hey hey, don't try to flirt your way outta this. [ are threats flirting? yes. it's the same thing. ] Drop that. No knife!

[ He staggers sideways, trying to swat the knife out of Jack's hand while also keeping him on his shoulder. Like someone trying to pull some street crud out of their dog's mouth. No!! Bad!!! ]

ii.

[enbashira]

( it seems that the places most likely to have leads are the places, ironically, that he would least like to visit.

it's not that he has any trouble with the kind of entertainment that the clan has to offer, but more that it's something he's never really quite understood within himself; he's never found himself trailing the streets of the entertainment district back home, hoping for a flash of skin off the shoulder of a beautiful, kimono-clad woman, or a wink from a western-dressed man down a dark alley, looking to get into some trouble. his thoughts have been focused solely on the mission--on keeping the people around him safe, living up to his name, training, and learning more; this sort of entertainment has never really factored into his plans at all, but then again, experiences always bring new knowledge, don't they?

so far, the only knowledge he's gained from the bar is that the air is thick and the music is loud, the liquor is expensive and the sights are quite frankly unbelievable.

he makes for an odd sight, perched right on the edge of his bar stool as though he's sitting primly on his folded legs, instead of tucked right up against the counter; his hands rest on his knees, a glass of something amber and iced and much too strong sitting on a coaster in front of him. it's barely been touched--his eyes, sharp as they are, move around the surroundings calculating, noting, wondering, learning.

the man, then, is not really much of a surprise, although the fact that he speaks to him is a little curious--should we get into a little trouble, he says, and kyojuro barks out a laugh; it's loud, but everything here is. )

Ou! Is this really the place to be getting into trouble? ( yes. yes it is. still, he says it cheerily, his gaze darting to the special guests in question. ) Have you introduced yourself? I find that's the first way to get someone's attention!

💖

[swordhardy]

[ Bright, fiery, clearly strong—why wouldn't a daemon be drawn to a guy like this? It's just that story of a moth and a flame all over again.

For all the raucous people and clothing in this place, this one, aside from those immortals, is the most intriguing. Not a Tamamo, no. Too reserved, nursing a drink weighted down with ice that waters out the bartender's extremely heavy hand. Not a Shuten, either, because Rokurou has done his due diligence in checking out the competition within his own clan. It leaves him as, what ... Enma or Sutoku. The way large eyes flick, sharp and bright—there's a keenness to them that could belong to either group.

There's also the way he's sitting. Very proper, unlike literally everyone else in the bar. Isn't he practically in a seiza on that barstool? Funny, too.

Rokurou licks his lips before smiling again. ]

Oh yeah? Thanks for the tip.

[ Hm hm hmmmmm. The daemon tilts his head as though he's pondering the approach, like he hasn't already made up his mind to move closer toward that flashy haori instead of ambling over to the immortals. They're busy being entertained by Tamamos desperate to keep Tenkohime happy, anyway. ]

Maybe I should practice on you first. [ there's a twinkle in his eye to go with the feline tilt of his mouth, ] Rokurou Rangetsu, at your service.

[ He leans in, kimono flutter of purples splashed with orange hues, but he doesn't touch. With a gesture of his chin, he points out the man's mostly untouched drink. Also very strange in a bar like this. Everyone else must be down three at least; Rokurou himself might have more too, were he not something of a lightweight. ]

And if you don't mind my asking ... why are you here, if not for a little bit of trouble?

[ It's alright, though. Trouble's managed to find Kyojuro anyway. ]

[enbashira]

( as good as intentions may be, and as light as his smile may become, stretched out across his lips, it's a keen look that greets rokurou's approach, the way he leans in closer as if to introduce himself--bright, sunrise eyes tick down the length of his body, noting his attire, his gait, the way that he speaks and the sharp curve of his hair against his face; his senses may be dulled here, but something just doesn't taste right about him, as though he may be here for more than just whatever the tamamo clan sees fit for the evening's debauchery.

the way he presents himself is kind enough, gregarious enough, but that's no surprise: he's seen plenty of demons, seen plenty of monsters, parade around with refined pleasure.

but that's not quite right here, is it? that's not what he's seeing, is it? with his plastered smile, kyojuro looks to the glass that's languishing on the bar counter, the one that rokurou indicates with his chin. perhaps it's a friendly hint that he should keep up his appearances; with a steady hand, he reaches for the glass.

he doesn't want to drink it. there are memories that he sees in the surface: his father, sprawled out on the tatami, and senjuro's anxious face, peering around the corner of the hall. his wrist tilts the glass towards himself--and then, with a bright laugh, he twists so that he can face his new companion head on. )

I'm here to offer you a drink. ( not quite the truth. but as of now, not quite the lie either, is it? he holds the glass between them. ) And introduce myself.

Will that get me into some sort of trouble? ( there's a twinkle in his bright gaze that says he doesn't mind if that's the case. ) I am Rengoku Kyojuro.

iv. hell date

[playfoul]

[ On his way to the bar, the street lights flicker as if possessed. Yuri passes one disturbed patron after another, eyes wild with fright as they rush past him, or drunkenly yelling curses into the night. The source of their agitation becomes clear when he arrives at the establishment and takes in the grisly scene. Ghostly limbs, dripping blood, missing bartenders... and sitting serenely in the middle of it all, his date.

Rokurou looks the part of his profile picture (minus his nice abs, which are sadly covered up by his clothes.). Yuri's eyes sweep across him to the ghoulish surroundings and back, lips curling in amusement. ]

Well, hi. Lovely evening. You must be Rokurou.

[ Emphasis on lovely. The ghostly hands suddenly seem very interested in new blood, turning their outstretched hands to Yuri as he approaches. He's dressed in a blouse and form-fitting pants, with heeled boots that click across the floor. Despite a pretty face touched up by makeup, his gaze is sharp and overall unfazed. ]

Did you stay put just for me?

[swordhardy]

[ When the hands wiggle their interested fingers toward Yuri, they get thwacked down with Rokurou's bottle a second time. No, no. He's not for you, either. ]

I am. And you're Yuri.

[ There aren't many men that can check someone out with obvious appreciation while caught up in the middle of a pretty violent haunting, but there sure is one such man sitting right on that stool. The shade of his hair, Rokurou thinks, is even prettier in person—and that's even with the vague green tint that's slowly crept over the bar. ]

I did. [ he flashes a smile that crinkles laugh lines at the corner of his eye, like they aren't meeting up in the middle of a ghostly hellscape. somewhere upstairs, something groans. ] Didn't want to miss the chance to meet you.

[ One of the hands squirms free, angrily trying to spider its way across the counter toward that new blood. With a sweep of his own fingers, the swordsman flicks it away like a pesky fly; it arcs and splats against the back of the bar before slowly slides down the wall to the ground with a wet plat.

Oh. There's a river of black sludge oozing on the ground behind the bar. It leaks out, inky seep slowly overtaking floorboard by floorboard. Rokurou's eyebrow arches when he notices that bit. ]

I'm used to dives, but they're really letting these bars in Hell go.

[playfoul]

[ Yuri's own attempt to swat the hands away don't deter the limbs from seeking him out again, but once he takes the seat next to Rokurou, the ghosts shrink back noticeably. That he's taken for the night should discourage a regular bar crawler from pursuing him, but the hands linger, creeping deliberately out of arm's reach.

Is it charming or alarming that his date had stuck it out in this roomful of horrors? Yuri rests his elbow on the counter, a hand under his chin. Either way, this promises to be interesting. He returns an easy smile. ]

Yeah? Then I hope to make it worth your while.

[ He carries on the conversation as if the hauntings aren't a concern at all. When one of the more persistent ghosts skitters forward, Yuri watches the man make quick work of it. Perks of having a nice, strong Shuten for a companion, he doesn't have to lift a finger.

As the floorboards fill with ooze, somewhere in the background, the ghostly hand that has taken over the bar's piano strikes an ominous chord. ]

Hauntings seem to be the flavor of the month. Never a dull moment around these parts. You're not the type to shy away from excitement, I take it.

[swordhardy]

[ Live music, too? Rokurou glances over his shoulder at the piano for a second in surprise, watching thin white fingers hovering above the keys dance as it moves into a slow, eerie song, but it doesn't keep his attention long. Don't expect any tips, buddy. ]

I'm not ... but in this case, it's more that I'm used to it. The prison I was in for a while had a lot of daemons and ghouls, so this was pretty much the everyday.

[ —but the fact that he has a criminal record's probably not something he should share within the first five minutes of a date though, huh? Speaks to how much he actually does this. Ah, well. It would have come up eventually anyway.

He rubs his chin, offering another little smile. ]

What about you? You didn't answer any of those questions on the app, so I've been curious about what kind of person you are.

[ And then, much too belatedly: ]

We can go somewhere else if you—[ before he can finish his sentence, the door swings shut with a slam; there's a click of the lock setting ]—want.