Prison World #3: Panultima (tw violence, torture, coercion)

[spoofer]

Characters: Ensemble Cast, maybe even you!
Summary: The third prison world in Xistentia is a terrifying subdimension where sentient people exploit each other in order to run technology that will fend off D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. The 'ruling' class, Primus, are bound to a system of coupling (see: fake dating!), legacy and nepotism, whereas the Servus are put through an elaborate media circus (see: Hunger Games). You're here to study this world. And perhaps even to free those captured.
Date(s): February 8-20
Warnings/Notes: Violence, torture, coercion

Panultima

You cursed your gods and died

The Primus Life

If you thought Earth was a tough neighborhood, welcome to Panultima. Here, life is sweet. At least, as long as you're one of the Primus class.

It's a sprawling city of wicked spires and elaborate canals, covered in a luminous, translucent shield. Rather than a circular planet resting in orbit, instead, it's a flat plane of matter suspended in space, the foundations of the buildings rooted in only a hundred feet of stone and unknown technology. But the vast majority of citizens care little for that. After all, the city has every amenity and experience one might desire.

Restaurants line the streets. Theater is at an apex in development, with a particular focus on integration of moral philosophical themes. Gondolas run the canals, whereas a railway races over the winding laser-track in the air. Fashion is diverse, colorful, characterized by wild shapes, patterns, and accessories. Food imported from worlds both thriving and dying across the multiverse. At the numerous colleges and institutes, premier technology and opera are under constant invention and reinvention.

COUPLE STUFF

Primus culture emphasizes couples. Trios. Larger groups of lovers than that, even. After all, with romantic love and loyalty to care for, and survival hanging on it... who has the time or energy to care about justice for all?

Not these guys!

In this world, the mission and pleasure roll together well. The implant picks up information, so your main job is to explore. Perhaps you and your partner might enjoy yourself a glow-in-the-dark cocktail in a smoky bar where a two-headed singer is providing the music, a tour of the massive shield generators in the sparkling complex. Or pick fruit from one of the hundreds of bonding trees in the city's central park— so named, because it requires successful completion of questions to "the newlywed game" for each before one of the luscious, sweet fruits is released from a vine.

THE SERVUS LIFE

But for the little guy, life is considerably shittier. Welcome to the arena, the fully manipulable bubble reality set up to torture the slave class. The emotions of pain, fear, anguish, and wild, adrenal victory.

Most days, it looks like a forest— incidentally, very much like Xistentia. There are dozens of hybrid creatures in it, most of which are edible, others toxic, several very dangerous. However, the ground below can change at any moment, turning into mud or belching acid baths. Or you might find yourself abruptly attacked by a bear with biological armor growing from its huge shoulders. The control room, operated by Primus, is concealed from view. Its role is to keep the environment challenging for those competing, shifting the settings of the place to advantage some and cripple others.

But the arena's programming isn't the only threat.

Instead, you have a motley host of macabre killers, other Servus locked up in here just like you. Some have survived in here for years, earning favor from audiences thanks to the amount of pure horror they squeezed out of their victims. Some of the better-known brands are the Bantam Butcher, a fallen angel whose first kills were those who took his wings, and now thrives on torture. The trapmaster seems to have control over environmental factors that rivals the control room. And the baker trio will eat the flesh from your bones if they catch you.

For infiltrators, the challenge is worse. Not only might you need to kill, survive, and explore the arena with your implant— but if you want to save the very same people who are out to murder you, how are you going to do that?

Breakout!

Several days into the mission, and that's when it happens-- the control room shuts down, under attack. And suddenly, there's pandemonium. Within the arena, some of the servus know immediately what this means— and they're willing to make a break for it, cutting each other down, crippling each other if it means that the Primus might have slower-moving people to contend with and allow them to escape. Others seem to have long since given up, failing to respond as the trees suddenly go dark and motionless, the birdsong dying into silence. After all, where is there to go? It's either D.E.S.T.I.N.Y., or to join the system that hates them, isn't it?

Are you inside the arena, or out? Are you there to help the fleeing Servus, or are you merely ready to scramble on home yourself and save your own skin?

Footnotes

1. Please ensure that threads are marked with appropriate content warnings!
2. The plotting post for this event can be found here, and the original announcement with some other details is here.

Comments

[astralera]

[ The bright red dress Era is wearing is more suited to Primus than Servus if only due to its colour. The sleeves, hood, and length of the garment are far more modest than what many Primus prefer but Era was never the most exemplary Primus to begin with - she shies away from most physical contact, it quiet, soft-spoken, empathetic, and entirely monogamous.

Really, quite the horrid member of the upper class.

The bright colour Era wears was one she chose specifically because it makes her stand out. 'The girl in the red dress will help you' is the message that she's tried to have spread, though she isn't certain how effective it will be beyond the handful of injured she's encountered already.

Estinien comes up on her wounded side, making her respond to his approach a breadth too slow. Era knows she isn't in any true danger, otherwise she would have experienced a slit throat and an abrupt awakening from a vision, but it's still disconcerting to have a blade so close to her neck. Her codex is at the ready against her side, though for the spell Era has at the forefront of her mind she doesn't need it. Her aether pools at the tips of her fingers as she begins turning to face the person who dares threaten her, ready to defend herself as need be.

It's Lily who recognizes the voice first, tucked away in her hood in place of her horn. The ethereal faerie pats her cheek, passing the message along to her mistress silently. From what Era could distinguish of the voice it did sound familiar...

As the Warrior of Light turns around fully her expression is one of stone cold calm. One that Estinien should be intimately aware means he had better not make a single misstep, lest the wrath of Hydaelyn's Chosen fall upon him. Even Lily looks entirely displeased with the Ishgardian, firmly on her mistress' side.

On the inside Era is incredibly shaken, having never expected to see the Azure Dragoon in Xistentia let alone Panultima. But that is something Estinien never need know. ]

'Warrior of Light, it is good to see you. Might I request your aid?' [ She mimics Estinien's tone perfectly, though puts in no effort to deepen her pitch whatsoever. Let it not be said that Era can't snark with the best of them. ]

Of course, Estinien. Anything for a friend.

[earlywyrm]

[ Estinien’s ready to place the bloodied tip of that lance right into the hollow of this person’s throat, up until she turns completely, and he spots Eos first, then the stony but deeply familiar expression of his comrade. ]

Era? [ the lance lowers momentarily, as he squints, as if he needs to make sure it isn’t some magical or technological illusion. The arena has been soaked with things of the like, but he watched the computer environment die, right? Well, the dry snark is hard to replicate, and Estinien returns a smirk, pulling the lance away to use it more like a walking stick. ] Next time, have that written on the back of your head and perhaps I’ll say hello a little more politely.

[ when is he ever polite? Clearly this is a lie. Estinien himself has been robbed of his drachen armor, left with leather padding and basic clothes underneath, head free ifna helm and hair in a rough ponytail behind his head. That, and, he hasn’t really had a chance to bathe in anything but stream water the last few days. His ex-husband has probably been horrified from up in his primus observation box. Anyway, about era and the part where she’s here. ] How long have you been here? They didn’t have you in the arena?

[ he hadn’t seen her anywhere in it, then again, it’s very big, then again, era’s magic is very bright. But still, she’s here, with the raid that broke open the control room, and those could only have been primus. Which means.... awkward. ]

[astralera]

[ Era can't help the way her face twists slightly as she finally takes note of what Estinien is wearing. It's of a horrid enough quality that she reaches into her inventory and pulls out her own lance for him to use. While it may be attuned to her aether, leaving him unable to access its full potential, it can still be used as an adequately powerful weapon regardless.

Much better than the garbage her friend is currently using at the very least. ]

A sennight, and I started in the Arena, yes.

[ She doesn't elaborate. Instead she opens her codex and casts a powerful healing spell on Estinien that might ease any injuries he acquired while in the arena himself. ]

We shall find you your equipment.

[ Era is pretty sure she knows exactly where it is, though it's a tad bit difficult to navigate through the chaos. She does her best, relying on Eos to guard her left side as she gestures for Estinien to follow. Perhaps she lets a few too many people bump into her on that side, but Era has always been lax in that regard - the first months of her memory were spent in the cramped back alleys in Ul'dah, and so long as her pockets weren't pilfered she didn't particularly care about brushing shoulders.

Estinien might note, perhaps, that her gait is slightly... off. Her head tilted a tiny fraction too far to the right and posture a modicum less confident. The bright red of her dress helps mitigate any attention others might pay to these things, forcing them to focus on it instead of her, but that isn't to say it would work on a fellow disciple of war who traveled with her for a time.

When Era finds what she's looking for - a nondescript door with a high tech lock that shatters after she blasts it with a concentrated dose of her aether - she slips inside. There had been other store rooms the liberators had raided so far, but the quality of what Estinien wears would have set it apart from most of the other Servus' belongings. This is the storage area for items meant to be auctioned off later to collectors. Items that belong to Servus who have made some sort of name for themselves, or who are expected to, to be auctioned off once they reach the metaphorical top... or die. ]

Aymeric is here as well.

[earlywyrm]

[ there's nothing quite so relaxing and rejuvenating as a skilled eorzean healing spell, and all the aches, strains and injuries fade with what Era casts on him. With a proper lance in his hands, the dragoon feels well enough to storm the city itself. though, that's likely not the course of action they're picking up. He trails along behind the Warrior of Light instead, snorting in amusement at one point. ]

Funny, I started with the slave masters and traded for the Arena.

[ Let's be real, he would not have been able to hold up a charade with the primus for long, at least not on his own as he was, and if Estinien was going to be trapped one way or another, he'd rather it be in combat than social niceties, as some stranger's courtesan. As they walk, his eyes follow Era, the way she holds herself, something about her just seeming off. He might've guessed that she's trying to be inconspicuous, but the woman's parading around in a bright red dress, so clearly not. He keeps up with conversation regardless, brows lifting at the mention of Aymeric. ] It figures the both of you would be here.

[ because Aymeric hates staying put when there's a worthy fight to put himself in the ranks for, and Era is likely not as practiced in telling the Lord Commander to keep his ass put as Estinien is. But on the same page, Aymeric is a skilled warrior, and that isn't what has Estinien telling him to stay out of doomed fights, more so their peoples' need for him. The man can take care of himself. Era, however, is wobbling and tilting, shoulders more hunched than they should be, wearing what looks like a mix of shame and injury. He keeps his mind on it as he passes her into the storage hold, making for his drachen armor and his own model of Gae Bolg leaned up against a wall. He remarks, as he sits on a crate to start pulling his leg guards and boots on (in front of her, because whatever, they're basically asexual around each other, it's fine, clearly) ]

Is he also walking like a drunk? [ There's many skills Estinien lacks, his life having been so singularly focused as it has, but observation is not one of them. Part of combat is looking for the weaknesses in those around you, and moving to either exploit or guard them. ] Why haven't you healed yourself?

[astralera]

We have the means to aid those of this world. [ So obviously they would come. A beat, and then: ] Though only a small number of them, for now.

[ Era knew going into this that she would not be able to save everyone. It's something she's grown accustomed to over all the wars she's fought, but that doesn't make it any less difficult. So many people suffering... She's just glad she has been able to help in some small way with this jailbreak of sorts.

Finding a crate for herself, Era sits down, letting her feet hang a few ilms above the ground. Estinien's state of dress is ignored entirely, save for the fact that it gives her a chance to glance over him briefly for any more serious injuries. She sees nothing of note, which isn't entirely surprising, and turns her attention to her own health instead.

There are no longer any injuries on her skin save for a few quickly fading scars where she had been stabbed and shot. Aside from itching every so often Era mostly has forgotten about them. She's healed everything she could possibly heal - every inch of her skin from head to tail, but her horn is a different matter. None of her magical disciplines can regrow limbs. Her horn will just have to grow back on its own, which will take a great deal of time.

Era had thought that she had adjusted her balance enough to get away without anyone noticing how off balance she still was. Leave it to Estinien to pick up on what she hasn't yet been able to adapt; the weaknesses she has yet to mend. Still, Era would hardly say that she had been walking like a drunkard and the scoff she lets out at that speaks volumes. It's both offensive and rather humorous in a way only the Azure Dragoon has ever managed.

The humour drains from her quickly as she realizes her hood is useless here. Her shoulders slump further in defeat, making her appear smaller than she truly is. She had hoped to put this off (not for long - Estinien deserved to know of his comrade's handicap sooner rather than later) but Era supposes a private, quiet area is likely the best place for it.

In true Warrior of Light fashion Era says nothing and simply pulls down her hood, letting Lily explore the room freely and allowing her friend to see the side of her head where no trace of even a stump remains of her once grand horn. ]

Magic cannot heal this, only time.

[earlywyrm]

[ with his leg guards, boots and gauntlets strapped on, he stands to pace over to her when Era pulls her hood back, showing the completely empty place where her horn should be, just a jagged circle of white bone where they would've grown from. His brows knit, lips in a frown, with a hand reaching out instinctively, but it brushes her hair away to get a better look rather than touching the exposed place, like an open wound that just isn't bleeding. ]

Do they function for Au Ra the same as for dragons?

[ hearing, balance, coordination. a large part of how they stabilize themselves and stay aware of their surroundings. he hadn't really known any Au Ra personally, before Era, so he couldn't say he was any kind of familiar with their physiology, but given they seem to resemble draconic features, perhaps.

Assuming that is the case, he adds on - ]

Let me take care of any fray we need. You can stand back and cast, but it isn't safe for you to do physical combat in this state. [ He isn't a Paladin or a Warrior, he can't be her shield for long if she needs it, or save her from a fall or missed swing. It's better for the both of them if she fall back on something that won't need as much movement and balance, to keep the both of them alive. ] You know I mean no offense by it.

[ Era's the best warrior he'd ever known, he hardly thinks she's disabled beyond combat like this, but he also knows she's stubborn and unwilling to back down from a fight, to the point of her detriment. they're in a foreign world, too much is at stake to risk her gaining any further injury for lack of taking considerations for the current one. ]

[astralera]

[ Because it's Estinien Era makes no move to stop him; tilts her head to the side so that he might see her shame more easily. Air brushing against her head where it shouldn't causes an inadvertent shiver to run down her spine and tail, leaving the latter to twitch once in discomfort.

Era isn't familiar enough with Dravanian anatomy to know if their horns function the same way, but she can easily tell her friend what her horns do for her: ]

Hearing, balance, and spacial awareness.

[ She forces her expression to remain neutral as Estinien speaks his orders to her. He speaks the truth and she knows this, but that doesn't make Era feel less frustrated for it. She's far too accustomed to using her body as a weapon and shield even whilst using her magic, to be unable to do so now is... irritating, at best. ]

You speak sense.

[ THAT DOESN'T MEAN SHE HAS TO LIKE IT, ESTINIEN. B( ]