#ihq:event

[iliadshq]

                                       ' 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲! 𝐓𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲!                      𝐀 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬⏤ 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬! '

When the last ship has landed on the docks of Sparta, its sails still flapping from an unknown wind, it marks the official start of King Tyndareus’ gathering. From across all four corners of the earth, suitors vying for Helen’s hand swarmed together for the glory of winning a daughter of Zeus, dangled in front of them like a red cloth before bulls. Yet Helen is more than beauty ; she is prize made manifest. To have her is to have a direct leverage on the King of Gods himself, as well as a dowry from her mortal father, substantial enough to fund a thousand wars, raise a hundred fleets from the ground up. Everyone heard about the Spartan ruler, the prosperous man who fought no battle, lost no sons, bore no scars—but no one expected just how formidable his wealth truly is. Sparta seems, in and of itself, a monument. The question appears: dedicated to which God ?

THE CITADEL THAT SWALLOWED THE WORLD

There is myrrh, saffron spice, cattle blood trickling through the cobblestones from the morning’s sacrifices, there is sweat & sea-salt & the cloying scent of anticipation seeping from those who barely landed. Enterprising merchants from all the corners of the known world have set up stalls peddling opulent and exotic wares. Bargains are made for lodgings, for not everyone is fortunate enough to warrant a place inside Tyndareus’ tiered palace. Soldiers sleep in brothels, in temples, in taverns & barracks. Booths decorate the circular streets of Sparta as far as the eye could see and then some, comprising a man-made labyrinth that would defy anyone’s compass. Children get lost, couples are disbanded, separated by the dynamic, living creature that is the crowd.

The space becomes a kaleidoscope, a beam of light swirling through human senses, bearing the mark of each tribe, city-nation, or country that ever shadowed the earth. Brass, obsidian, greenglass quartz catch the sun and send it scattering among people. Some stalls claim to foretell one’s future: either through haruspicy or the reading of animal entrails, the charting of the noble stars in their voyage around the earth, or through the simple matter of looking at one’s palms, gauging fate’s whims by a thin line in their skin.

In other corners, artists find a way to peddle their own services, striving to distract from the onslaught of soothsayers and would-be hierophants. Copper plates, sculpted idols, kore & kouroi—everything is for sale, the sacred as well as the profane, from kitchen pottery to altar thuribles. Painters offer to draw your portrait on the spot, their hands grabbing at your chiton, leaving stains of charcoal & oil. Kithara playerrs, snake charmers, flutists that would debase Dionysus themselves, beleaguer the alleys. There is various entertainment still to be gleaned from the poets and playwrights who rushed to Sparta like dogs after scraps, avid for a story, starved for the great tales of old. Careful, the matrons & crones caution, if they do not find a tale worth telling, they will cause one themselves.

And, next to the bull rings, beyond the sacrificial dais used to honor the Gods ( who are still only peripheral figures at this early point ) the arena has been raised. In other kingdom, it is slaves who are made to bleed on its fervid sands, but Sparta is a Free City. Citizen with full rights, men & women alike will take part in the celebratory games. From discus to running, archery to pankration, he has made available his own personal stadium, so that every athlete, hero, or common man can carve their mark in the annals of history, distinguish themselves from the melee. Perhaps tears will be spilt, and grunts will resound through the amphiteater seats, but no blood. It is said King Tyndareus cannot abide it, and has long forbidden any fight to the death.

Out of all these dazzling, fulgurant events, these chances that both stupefy & ensnare, the brightest star is represented by Tyndareus’ own competition. For his daughter’s hand, he will run the contenders through rings of fire, in speech if not in deed. Races, declamations, sports & lyre concerts, there is no task too small or too unbefitting to not be included. But be it as it may a strenuous set of challenges, it is also dappled with revelry, with weekly pauses where nothing is scheduled except merriment, excess, decadence.

Only a few have thrown in their gauntlet, but all eyes will be on them, watching in rapture from the sidelines—the mortals as well as the Gods. For it soon becomes clears: Olympians themselves descended to oversee the festivities ; Ocean deities left their cavernous depths, as the Deathless Gods stirred from their demesne of shades. Many moons may pass from this moment, when the ships first blackened the horizon of Sparta, and the moment when Tyndareus will relent and yield Helen. The competition is expected to last for several weeks —this leaves plenty of time for a worshiper to change their faith, en exile their fate, for a lover to be renounced & a truth revealed.

INAUGURATION FEAST.

This is the grand opening of the month-long festivity. In King Tyndareus’ palace, everyone of note from the cities of Mycenae and Troy pour into the Golden Hall ; they fill up the corridors and the suspended gardens, the hidden alcoves and the guest chambers. The Gods are there, too — as is their wont, without invitation. They merely envisaged their welcome, thus ensuring its reality. They bring with them their proteges, their children, their lovers. They bring with them benediction & calamity, judgement & grace.

; —— this event runs from [ 04.04.2020 ]  to  [ 07.04.2020 ]

DAY OF THE EQUESTRIAN RACES.

The competition of King Tyndareus will be comprised of multiple individual events, each of them stretching five days or longer, which will feature as challenges for our members. The first one is the EQUESTRIAN DAY, comprised of two-horse chariot race, single-rider horse race, and javelin throw on horseback.

A separate post will be made on the day before, in which we will ask members to volunteer their characters in the challenge if they so desire.

The victor will be established based on their faction’s points for that week.

If more than two players from the same faction compete in the challenge, their points will be tallied individually. If the result is too close to call, we will use a random generator.

; —— this event runs from [ 07.04.2020 ]  to  [ 11.04.2020 ]

[quinnhqarchive]

instagram story posted from @qfab​ on june 13th, 2019

► word count: 139

There were many reasons Quinn had chosen to dress as David Bowie for the party. The first being that she loved his music. She had discovered his music while she was in college and fell in love with it far past its prime. Dressing up as him meant getting to listen to his music all day with the excuse of getting "in character." There was also the wig. It was weird and fun, something she would never have a reason to wear again. The rest of the outfit was over the top as well. The entire thing was loud, obnoxious, and completely out there. It felt like an obvious choice for Quinn. She just hoped no one else had the same idea, which seemed unlikely. As far as LGBTQ icons went, Bowie was towards the top of the list.

[catferro]

[iliadshq]

        ' 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧—𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐬                    𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬:           𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥. '

SECOND DAY OF THE COMPETITIONS.

If the first day of Tyndareus’s games sought to merit skill, this one shall merit savagery. Axes are cast aside, javelins are hung from pegs in the armory, blades remain dark & blunted in their scabbards. The grounds are dusted with fresh sand. As always, like vultures to the feast, spectators huddle together in their rows. Not a glint of metal can be seen on the contest field, not a single leather-band. This challenge calls for close combat, and honor prohibits all injurious thoughts, all sharpened ends. There will be no less wounds for it—but perchance there shall be less blood. Or so the King dares hope.

But matters are afoot amongst audience & contenders alike. The plumes of pride still need to be soothed after the chariot race, with its swift completion and unforeseen results. On the fringes, Achilles and Penthesilea spar with quiet insults, while Menelaus has drawn due attention, through his artful expletives if not the laurel crown. Behind him, slyer companions such as Odysseus push his clause forward. Not even a reunion with Penelope, who has seen her own share of heroes, could detract from his ambition. Strangely, the prince's petition seems to be aided by none other than Clytemnestra herself, sister to the prize-bride, who never fails to miss a moment on the dais, and often wields her wit against Theseus. At her side, Cassandra's murmurs gather in ominous warning. Meanwhile, the Gods' tempers are fraying thin. Hera, Apollo & Persephone were all glimpsed on the rooftop gardens, their eyes set black and gimlet on the flimsy silhouettes below. With so many reminders of past misdeeds alive and walking through Sparta, it is a wonder no divine battle was declared already, this time waged onto an arena no mortal could withstand.

A new week brings a new stage in the competition ! Though the word ‘day’ is used formally, about three days elapse in-game for every week in real time. In the aftermath of last week’s race, the winning faction was Sparta, having amassed most points overall. From those who enrolled in the challenge by notifying the main, Theseus led as individual front-runner, Penthesilea second, and Achilles from the Mycenae faction close behind.

To enroll your characters in the second challenge, send an IM to the main. As last time, on the 20th, midnight EST, points will be tallied and victors crowned. Should Sparta win again, this will be their second victory, giving them the right to request the release of a new role as skeleton. We take this opportunity to refer our point page, where more information about the ruling system can be found. For starters set during this new event, you can always use our locations page, or invent new places we can later add to the group canon.

; — this event runs from [ 15.04.2020 ]  to  [ 20.04.2020 ]

[iliadshq]

               ‘ 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬,                                                𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞. ’

the dust has settled, the horses have come to a rest, and the last of the chariot racers cross the finish line. it’s been a fine day of sportsmanship and athleticism, common soldier and would-be kings and demigods alike made equal by the dirt which was to be their battleground. valiantly they rode forth, as if going to war, the hooves of their horses creating dust clouds that seemed to envelop them all in an ember haze of promised glory. their muscles lumbering as they pushed their noble steeds to the limit, the sounds of reins sharply cracking in the wind, horses neighing against their tight bits. champion crossed champion, spoke meeting spoke. those who were less worthy were left in the dust, while those who dared separated themselves beyond the fray. 

it was the exiled THESEUS who crossed the line first, stealing a raptured gasp from the crowds, followed at close margin by the queen of amazons, PENTHESILEA. her subject's howls of victory subdued the swarm, together with the clang of javelins slamming against their sheilds. rounding up the podium is the so-called aristos achaion, great ACHILLES himself, bringing as much honor as ere he promised, while the myrmidons under his command sprung into deafening applause. in a field populated by princes from all four corners of the world, it was these three who managed to distinguish themselves from hundreds of others, winning acclaim on a stage that the whole world seemingly set eyes onto, mortal and immortal alike.

Thus concludes the EQUESTRIAN DAY of the conquests. All points earned for each faction up until 4/12 midnight EST will be reset, and another count will take place on 4/20, ending on midnight EST. The new event will be announced shortly.

[iliadshq]

        ' 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐧—𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐬                    𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝. 𝐒𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬:           𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥. '

THE END OF THE SECOND DAY.

There is a low rumbling heard in the air, as if some kind of reckoning is to come—yet no natural cause can be attributed towards this deathly knell, this portentous war-cry that deafens the ears of all those who would hear it. Instead, it is the union of many human voices joined as one, so loud as to become a beast in its own right, hungry for some kind of reckoning, baying for blood to be spilt on the granite-coloured sands of the arena. An unholy shrieking fills the scene: every pummel and blow is met with cheer upon cheer, as violence holds the holy rule of the day. From opposite rows of the sidelines, they all strain to see fist pound into flesh, bruise blossom and swell, skin tainted black and blue in proof of their dedication towards the Spartan prized bride-to-be. The day started with the shrieking of the birds, an unholy cawing waking all those still caught by the spell of Hypnos. But even before this early hour, some eager participants were already sparring in the arena, trying to measure up against each other one last time before matters come to head.

In this window of time, limbs alight with sweat and brows knitted in furor,THESEUS crosses ACHILLES while still on the practice grounds: at first, their exchange is mostly verbal, sniping words meant to get under each other’s skin. It was only meant as that, but then it comes to a breaking point: exile stands against prince in a way that makes clear their intent to face off—but in the nick of time, MACHEON intercedes, breaking them apart and making sure that all injuries are to be sustained only within the confines of the competition proper.

For Tyndareus had, in his prudence, declared that this is to be a test of pure physical prowess: no swords, no shields, no armour with which to defend oneself with. Instead, this is bare flesh colliding with bare flesh, almost as if the hands of men are less destructive when deprived of a sword. But whatever hopes for minimal violence are dashed quickly as soon as the bell signalling the start resounds. Almost immediately, assigned pairs descend against one another as if themselves possessed by some malefic spirit.

               The first notable match-up is announced to be between PARIS and MENELAUS, met with the enraptured screeching of the crowd, transformed into voyeurs of pain in this spectacle of sheer & unmitigated strength. Held in a fierce elbow-grip, the Trojan relents. He steps away on his own two feet from the arena, scalded in light injuries, but not before attempting to shake the other's forearm, as is the wont of proper sportsmanship after a loss — and being refused. Breathlessly, the Atreide Prince moves on to MACHEON, who is also rammed into the ground, though, to everyone's suprise, after a rougher resistance than that of Paris.                Elsewhere, AENEAS and ACHILLES are fighting, and a proverbial sigh washes through the Mycenaean rows of spectators at the announcement. ALmost uniformly, they seem to be reeling with relief that the Thessalian's first match was not the one he nearly came to blows with. From Sparta, though bearing the colors of the Amazons, no mistaking who she's really there to represent, it is PENTHESILEA who wrestles THESEUS first, and she is defeated by a whole-body tackle from the Athenian, skidding over the rough sand. Bull-like, onlookers whisper, their palms taught over their mouths. He has become what he bested.            In the end, three contenders remain. Two names are already familiar in everyone's mouths; they taste like stupefaction, they taste like legends taking flesh. Theseus, Achilles. This time, it is rounded by a third: Menelaus, brother to the man who would be High-King.

Wrapping up the second contest in the betrothal competition, we would like to thank everyone for participating and giving us the chance to see such fantastic dyanmics ! The winning faction is SPARTA, and the individual victors are THESEUS, ACHILLES & MENELAUS. As per our point page, Sparta is now owed a due SECOND REWARD, namely the CALL TO ARMS. We would ask members to please discuss, vote, and debate in their faction channel which mythological character they would like to request to be released. This can be a role a member likes to play, someone they would like as a connection, or even someone that might help them in the conflicts to come.

[quinnhqarchive]

When  → June 13th, 2019

Where  → (B)icon Party

Open to  → @ryanp-hq

Seeing all of the costumes was the best part of night for Quinn. She had loved picking out her own and criticizing everyone else’s. It was hard to miss Deadpool in the crowd. Quinn recognized him, despite the fact that she had seen maybe two comic book movies in her entire life, neither of which was actually Deadpool.

"Surely they don't make you keep the door at an event like this?" Quinn asked once she approached Ryan, mostly teasing since he was in costume. "Are you here for work or for fun?" She paused to consider her own question. While it was a party and she was enjoying herself, it was still an Influence event. She made a mental note to start counting her drinks. "For me it's a little bit of both.”

[quinnhqarchive]

When  → June 13th, 2019

Where  → (B)icon Party

Open to  → @regandavies

Quinn assumed that the bartender hadn’t heard her correctly when he handed her two glasses instead of one. She took both and stared at her hands for a second before looking around, deciding to share the wealth. No reason to let a good drink go to waste. She noticed that Regan was standing nearby, and made her way over.

"Free drink, if you want it. Vodka soda. It’s a long story,” Quinn began, holding one glass out towards the other girl. She glanced around the room. "Where’s your other half? I have to be honest, I'm a little upset the two of you didn't dress up like Madonna and Britney Spears. Major missed opportunity." 

[quinnhqarchive]

When  → June 13th, 2019

Where  → (B)icon Party

Open to  → Literally anyone

Quinn was having a wonderful time at the party, up until her phone died. This party was every she loved about being an influencer: flashy, heavily populated, and full of great photo ops. She was dressed as David Bowie, which Quinn thought was an appropriate and totally obvious choice. She was dancing around the room, allowing herself to act much sillier than normal under the guise of alcohol and being in character. She would've considered the entire night a major success, but then her phone died. And that effectively killed her buzz. She was completely capable of enjoying the party without it, but she spotted a familiar face and thought she might have another option.

"You don't happen to have a phone charger on you, do you?" she asked over the music. "I guess I left mine in my other.. bodysuit." Quinn had her wallet in her bra, and seeing as it was an Influence event, her phone stayed glued to her hand the entire time. The outfit she picked didn't have room for anything else. "I'll buy your next drink if you let me use yours."