![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
May Event Log A: The Song of Suffering.
| đ Bottom | ⤠Navigation |
| đ Mod Note | |||||||||||
| The Song of Suffering's resolution is jointly dependent on the choices all our players make (Who will take charge of the city?) and on the resolution of the Return to Einjar excursion. After you have read through this post please respond to This Poll as soon as you feel comfortable making the choices in it. Please respond even if your character is not participating in this event as the choice made effects the game world/all players. | |||||||||||
 | |||||||||||
| đ First Blood April 26th | |||||||||||
| In the late afternoon a challenge is made over the courier by Captain Lykos challenging the 'King' to come and properly fight him for control of the Defenders the way the old orc custom the Defenders were built on demands. In the message, he calls Koroc a coward and a thief, unfit for his role in the Defenders and unprepared to handle the even larger role he has claimed for himself. He accuses Koroc of not even trying to manage the werewolf curse he and Lykos share and says he may be to blame for Koroc's affliction, but Koroc's reckless endangerment of the city is to blame for the rise in werewolf attacks on the city. Lykos sets the battleground as King Ardis' camp outside of the city, a neutral ground away from the citizens who could get hurt in the crossfire. An enraged, Koroc takes a large group of his Defenders' newest forces out of the city to lead an attack on the former Captain and the invading King Ardis supporting him only to find the camp deserted of anyone but Lykos. The discussion between Lykos and Koroc appears publically on the couriers within the city, and everyone with a courier is treated to the impromptu visual of their meeting and the fight that follows it. Lykos gets Koroc to admit to working with the cult and imprisoning and using werewolves to attack the city, as well as implicating both himself and Koroc as werewolves as well before the feed ends, and the abrupt ending leaves the fate of the former captain uncertain. | |||||||||||
| |||||||||||
| đ Children of the Revolution April 26th-May ?? | |||||||||||
|
With clear evidence now out that Koroc and the Defenders are not only working with some form of undead in their ranks, but also that both Koroc and Lykos are werewolves, Koroc's allies, Lorna's rebels, the strange travelers, and King Ardis's soldiers are all spurred into action, bringing the fight for the City of the Free People to a final confrontation for power. The city splits, rallying behind different sides in the battle. The battle encompasses the city streets and spills out into the surrounding land to the South and West of the city. The Defenders, their numbers padded with risen soldiers, hold the city. From within the rebels and the strange travelers fight the Defenders to force them out fo the city streets. Alice, Amy, and a small force of armed civilians and former revels focus on getting people out of the battle zones, teleporting people out where possible and defending them in an escape route out of the city with larger groups, while outside the city King Ardis and his knights storm the warcamp and put pressure on the Defenders, helping to clear a path out of the city. As the fighting overtakes the city another terrible set of howls sounds from the West beyond the city, and a pair of creatures join the fray. The white one assaults the city with unbridled destructive rage while the red one seems fixated on the people, hunting like a starved beast without pausing to feast on its downed prey. The beasts are unaffected by silver, wolfsbane, and other standard werewolf weaknesses and stand at around eleven feet tall, nearly twelve when straight-backed. They are closer to the size of a small swamp troll than an ordinary werewolf, their eyes glowing blue. The protrusions coming off of them are hardened bone and sharp enough to cause damage equivalent to spearheads or daggers if used to attack. Bites/Scratches from these creatures do not inflict any curses. They do not seem to fear anything but also appear to be mindlessly enraged. At different times during the onslaught from the mutated wolves a large white wolf appears, drawing the monsters away from fleeing citizens and members of all sides of the struggle, outrunning and distracting the creatures. | |||||||||||
 | |||||||||||
| đ The Song of Suffering April 28th-May ?? | |||||||||||
|
Two days later an unsettling prophetic orc threat from the not so distant past begins to ring true. The river that flows from the Northern mountains down through the City of the Free People begins to sing with ringing, echoing hums and runs red with a dark, thick liquid that looks like blood and smells like copper and rust. The touch of sound or liquid begins sending citizens into fits of raw, violent, amplified emotions. The fight for the city devolves into one of almost directionless, desperate violence and begins to lose what little point or meaning it had, spurred on by a madness that latches on to everyone within earshot or touch of the river and its endless ringing song. People quickly begin to change in more than just mood. Paranoia, Fury, or Desperation overtake them, causing mental and physical changes that reflect the emotion. More than one reflection can overtake people and while the infected waters remain so do the symptoms.
| |||||||||||
no subject
Besides that, he hasnât yet ruled out the possibility that Billie may not have come back entirely herself. His blade is close enough to hand that he could reach it if he needs to.
As it turns out, he doesnât need to. When Billie bolts from the house and starts throwing up outside, heâll finally sit up, nudging the squalling dragonet off him, getting him clear of the sheets.
âGo.â He wonât be quick to follow. He doubts Billie would appreciate him seeing her undone, so he goes for the more practical route of getting up to start heating some water.
no subject
It's a small kindness that it's still too dark to really make out what all of that was. She knows. She'd still rather not see.
She'd really rather not have to contest with a nosy dragonet suddenly appearing at her side and making curious noises at it, too, but that's also not a choice.
"...Red, no," she murmurs, pushing the chirping little beast away. Another cough but clearly nothing else coming up means she can probably move again and she'll do what she can to throw dirt over the mess before scooping Red up and slowly, carefully getting to her feet. It's an unsteady walk back to the back steps, which is as far as she feels like making it.
She's going to take a seat there instead of going inside just yet, focus torn between slow breaths, trying to keep herself calm, and keeping Red from clambering all over her. It takes about three attempts to remind him he knows what 'stay' is, then she can peel her gloves off and idly pet the whining dragonet, fingers brushing lightly along the feathered spines along his head and back.
no subject
"If you want whiskey in that, it's inside," he tells her evenly, offering her one mug. He doesn't partake of alcohol himself as a general rule, prone to ordering one drink for show and then never finishing it, but that wasn't the top priority of the previous homeowners.
no subject
As for the dragonet, he's settled down by now, though he does cheep at Daud as he joins them, which will be the only sound apart from the handful of crickets still chirping away in the pre-dawn hours, at least for a little while. She settles on staring down into the tea instead of off towards the city, waiting for it to cool some. She may not suffer from the scale's heat magic but she's already learned that doesn't necessarily protect her from other heat sources, like, you know, hot tea.
What the hell is she even supposed to say after the last few days? Mulling that over is the cause of her silence, trying to put words in some semblance of order, looking for an explanation that might alleviate the worst of this...
Only there is none. That's the answer she comes to every time, so, she settles on the unavoidable.
"I really screwed up out there," she say at last, voice rough from either dryness or illness or both all at once.
no subject
"It's done," he says, simply. Magic may exist that can reverse the ravages to their bodies, but no magic Daud's aware of is capable of reversing the past. He could chide Billie for not taking precautions against the water's effects, and what came after, but what good would that do now? He's trained her to recognize her own mistakes without him needing to point them out. It's why she made such a competent student.
"You weren't the only one." He's not the type to fidget, but his tailtip flicks, slightly, as he waits to see whether she's inclined to fill in any blanks unprompted or if he'll have to get his answers out of her slowly.
no subject
It's rattling to look back on, trying to make sense of the parts that all blur together. Daud won't have to dig for his answers but he will have to tolerate another silence, although she does finally look up again, just not towards him. She's tracking something in the sky. A bird, flying in, and that means Deirdre makes her appearance at last, in front of the steps and making the usual rude seabird noises at Billie.
Daud may not chide her but the animas is of a different opinion.
That at least gives Billie some relief, seeing her show up.
"Took you long enough," she complains right back at her but that's as far as she's interested in taking whatever little argument they're having. It happens mostly over whatever odd connection they have, forever unheard by Daud. Deirdre settles and turns her head to eye the tiefling and whatever else she must have said has Billie pursing her lips, looking thoughtful for a moment. She still won't look up at Daud but, apparently, after the little back-and-forth between her and her animas, she'll sigh and settle on going over it like any other report she's made, trying to sound as detached from the subject matter as she can manage.
"I decided to take advantage of the situation and deal with a few people who needed to be dealt with," she says, not entirely unlike Daud's plan to go after Koroc. It just happened to be more inclusive. "Most of them were from the Defenders. Some weren't. I know my original reason for it was to try and clear out Koroc's support but by the time I realized the sound really was affecting me, I couldn't stop. It became more about proving something than actually getting the job done."
no subject
âIt looked like more than a few, from your trail,â Daud answers, as a statement, not a criticism. âBut it wasnât one of those who took you out in the end.â
That should be a question, but itâs really more of a deduction. She hadnât seemed to show signs of injury until much later.
no subject
It isn't a great memory and even Deirdre turns her attention away from Daud and Mercy as it comes to mind. This prompts the tern to hop closer and join Billie on the steps, picking a spot there to sit and settle down at.
The worst of it is having to untangle what happened and she briefly reconsiders going to find that whiskey, butâ
"It wasn't," she agrees, the words coming out stilted. She doesn't have an answer for him immediately, working through it instead. "Someone else was tracking me. They got there before you. Someone I knew. Had to have been. They..." There's a pause, thinking again. "No, she. She knew my name." Which narrows it down dramatically. There it is. "Shura found me first. She tried to stop me."
no subject
"Your fur was damp, She must have used ice against you." Ice that may or may not have come from the same provenance as Billie's scale, not that Shura is around to ask now. Daud's voice is neutral, dissecting the facts of Billie's demise, and it remains so when he continues speaking.
"How are your injuries?" He's pretty sure he already knows the answer, but it's not like he's about to pull her shirt open to check for himself.
no subject
The sword was still sharp but the ice would burst into hot steam on contact. She remembers wood scorching under her claws, flesh searing whenever she managed to rip into Shuraâ a bad train of thought. She stops it there and finally takes a drink from her mug. That makes her realize just how damn thirsty she is but for what little dignity remains, she isn't going to quaff an entire mug of tea in one go.
Her injuries are, at least, a simple answer.
"There are no injuries," she says, lowering the mug again. "It's like I was never hurt to begin with but there is something else."
She shifts her drink to one hand and has to fumble with the top two or so buttons of her shirt. It's only to go fishing for her necklace, as she has just as much inclination of showing off the extreme lack of injuries she's experiencing as Daud does in checking himself. Vial out, she turns towards him, holding it up for him to see.
It isn't quite half empty but it's damn near close to it.
"This was nearly full before," she adds helpfully for reference.
no subject
âLost more than when my animas died,â he rasps. Mercy straightens a little, feathers ruffling and resettling as sheâs mentioned off-hand. âSo being brought back has its costs. Lornaâs vial must be almost empty.â
He lapses into silence, brooding over what to say next, and finds there isnât much. This isnât like when she was taken after the Long Night, an awkward homecoming with the strange, throat-constricting relief of realizing Billieâs still alive. He can still remember the last shudders of life leaving her body under his hand, the light fading from glassy eyes as she died.
The tiefling looks away, fingers curling against his mug.
âKorocâs been dealt with,â he says, shortly.
no subject
She should have been there, helping take down Koroc. It would have been nice to watch him die after the mess he's made of the city, that vicious part of her will always say, but it'd be pointless to regret missing that particular show. It's done. It needed to be. That isn't what's most distracting, though. Daud looked away...
That could mean a lot of things. The tiefling has always been a tough read. That's on purpose, she knows, and it feels like a skill that still escapes her a lot of the time. It isn't going to stop her from taking a guess, though. He looked away before mentioning Koroc, so it isn't about the orc. About the vials? About dying? About her dying? He killed her again, that much she remembers. That, too, had to be done.
"Are you alright, Daud?"
Not a question she asks directly too often. It's also one she doesn't expect a very detailed answer on, knowing him, only she knows she's not alright. How can he possibly be?
no subject
I haven't been alright for a while, Billie, he could tell her. Are those the words she's looking for? Is she trying to find the assassin he used to be, or the man he's become?
Daud isn't in the habit of leaving himself vulnerable. She'd probably have a hard time recognizing the man he'd been, near the end, confessing his guilt when the consequences of his actions caught up to him, waiting for a blade across his throat that never came. Had he done enough to earn his redemption? he'd wondered then. Not that it had mattered. Absolved of guilt or not, it had all burned in the end.
Maybe the bodyguard should have finished him off after all. Then he wouldn't have woken in the dirt a century later, to deal with all this.
"I'm not the one who's been dead for two days," is what the tiefling will settle on, finally. It's said ambiguously enough, with a terseness that communicates clearly his disinterest in having old wounds picked open all over again. "Don't make it a habit."
no subject
The rest, still a mystery. Frustrating at the worst times, confusing at the best. They've treaded over that argument once before. The only thing it had won her was a painful truth. At least the terse reply falls into what could be expected, even if it does sound like nothing more than telling off a Wolf who's been slacking. Yet even that sparks that same anger she's been holding onto, all in spite of how she thought herself too exhausted to feel anything apart from this bone-deep weariness.
She has been dead for two days.
She shouldn't even have the energy to be mad and, as such, while she can't let it go, she does ignore it.
Deirdre has less restraint over the matter. Where Billie merely looks on, expression barely changing save for a faint squinting of her eyes, the tern stands and fluffs her feathers outâ or begins to, only to have her upcoming tantrum squashed by Billie dropping a hand on her and pushing her back down.
Deirdre still makes a few muffled, offended noises, but that's the end of it.
"You're right," is all Billie says to that in the end and she turns away, attention moving on past any of them to watch the sun begin its slow creep up into the sky. "I'm sorry, sir. I won't make that mistake again."
no subject
"You don't have to call me 'sir' anymore, Billie," the tiefling says. His voice already sounds like rusted gears on a good day; somehow, it sounds even hoarser now.
"...and I'm not the one you owe an apology to." In case she has any doubt what he means, he'll click his tongue for Red's attention, making the short motion for 'guard' and pointing at Billie. More than likely, it'll confuse the poor thing, but it's not so much about expecting to obey the command as it is prompting him to remind Billie he's there, instead of just curled passively on her lap.
no subject
Whereas Deirdre would rather keep on huffing and puffing as much as a bird can up until Mercy makes her way over. She doesn't quite settle but she will turn to nip at Billie's fingers and force her to pull her hand back. It isn't without her shooting a glare at the tern as she yanks her hand back, giving it a shake. Free to move again, Deirdre just goes on to stuff herself under one of Mercy's wings and sulk there instead.
For all that they have a connection, Billie can't even believe her animas half the time... and there won't be room to carry on being exasperated at her, either, because Daud motions at Red and now the dragonet is getting up out of her lap after a second or two of just staring blankly at the tiefling.
"Whatâ" In an odd turn of events, Red completely misunderstands what 'guard' is meant to be. He'd gotten used to it meaning 'go sit on the couch over there', so when that's aimed towards Billie, he's left waffling over what to do, though he inevitably settles on hopping down off of Billie altogether and trotting back into the house.
He is going to the couch. He will absolutely guard that couch.
This leaves Billie turning to watch him go, any irritation she was feeling towards Daud or her animas now abandoned for looking bewildered as all fuck. There's a fairly long silence that follows, just carrying on staring at the door.
"That..." And she's taking an educated guess here when she finally does speak again. "Wasn't what you wanted him to do, was it?"
no subject
Daud doesnât move to stop Red, patiently watching the little dragon go, then shaking his head slightly.
âHmm. Seems thereâs still only so much you can teach a dragon in two days.â
no subject
That's when she starts laughing, just a little. More of a quiet chuckle to herself than anything else. She turns back away from the door like that, stifling any further laughter by raising her mug and drinking tea. It won't be until after that where she glances back again, back to Daud.
"So, I take it you two got along."
Or, at the very least, Daud didn't decide to mysteriously vanish the dragonet in her absence. That's a start.
no subject
âHeâs yours. Thought youâd take it poorly if you woke up to him being at the bottom of the river.â Which isnât to say that he thought about it, but...
â... I did take him out, once. By the river, away from the fighting.â If she was going to get mad at him over that too, may as well get it all over with in one go. Most importantly: "The waterâs curse didnât seem to affect him. Just like it didnât affect the half-dragon we met in Einjar.â
no subject
"You did?" Billie's kneejerk reaction is to sit up straighter and look back towards him again, mirth draining some. Daud really does enjoy killing the mood, doesn't he? Being mad at him does cross her mind, if only briefly, but Red was unaffected. That's actually good to know, meaning she relaxes some once she decides not to yell at him.
"Alright. So dragons are immune?"
no subject
"Half-dragons, too," Daud admits. "At least, the one in Einjar didn't seem to be affected by the ringing then. Scaleskin might be a different story, but..." He frowns, gazing off into the distance.
no subject
Just like her own curse offers only the barest protection from a full-on werebeast. She can take a scratch or two but a mauling would infect her as easily as anyone else. That half-orc being the last thing she really wants to be thinking about right now, she shakes her head some and turns back to her tea, drinking it while it's still warm.
no subject
"No. But it reminded me that Strange had a theory that we were some kind of dragonborn." Given what they now know about dragons and the consent needed to be involved in the process, on both sides, Daud's suspecting that's vanishingly unlikely. That they have something to do with dragons, of that much he's certain, mysterious messages on the courier claiming from the dragons -- and the much more real, concrete fact of scales granting them powers tied to dragons long dead.
That still begs the question of what they are, exactly. To have been alive and walking again so long, with questions that only multiply by the second ... Daud shakes his head, taking a step back towards the door. Mercy, now having settled down like a hen preparing to nest, doesn't seem inclined to get up.
"... Come inside when you're ready." He's going to be getting on with making breakfast, though as usual, Daud leaves that to be inferred rather than outright stated, as with most things with the tiefling. Once he's in, he'll automatically check the couch for the dragon, assuming that's where Red's gone.
no subject
Back outside, Billie doesn't turn to watch Daud go. It's only when he's gone that she does look back, first at the door, then down at Mercy and Deirdre. The tern is still sulking away under Mercy's wing and any telepathic prodding she gives her nets grumbling, not answers, which is why she'll focus on the osprey instead.
"So, what do you think?" She asks, quietly, knowing all too well that Daud isn't actually that far away. "He's not alright, is he?"
She's just going to skip over the entire 'dragonborn' ordeal for now. It isn't a new theory to her and one that conflicts with what the book says about how they're made, to boot, but that doesn't explain Strange's mirror shard and the scales. Provided there really were scales and he isn't being crazy, anyway.
no subject
Inside, Daud sighs, studying Red for a moment then shaking his head and reaching out to touch his fingers to the top of the dragonâs head briefly. The hand is withdrawn quickly enough, and then itâs back to business, losing himself in the methodical preparation and consumption of food. This morning, Red gets a great big poached egg all his own.