usir | Event #1: The Big One

Entry tags:

The Awakening

🜙 Awakening the Heart Warnings: Injury, Blood, Death

	You are awakened from death by a cloaked figure. The sky is thickly choked by dark storm clouds, but it's growing darker. Sunset is approaching and you know you are far from any of the kingdom cities. It is only once you find your feet that you notice your new tunic adorned with the colors of one of the three kingdoms. It might not be something you remember wearing, but you're about to be thankful for the extra fabric as the first drops of rain begin to fall, hitting you hard and heavy. You won't survive a night out on the marsh flats during a storm. The weather out here is violently unpredictable and it's freezing cold to boot. Your breath escapes in a cloud in front of your face and a shiver runs through you as your feet sink further in the muck of the marsh. You need to find somewhere to go while you sort out what has happened to you. Atrómitos is the closest city to where you are now. You know these marshlands are part of their kingdom. Whatever side you might have been on for the war a simple analysis of the circumstances and surroundings you find yourself in make one thing clear. If you want to survive the night, Atrómitos is your only hope. The chill in the air makes it very clear this is winter and the other kingdoms are much too far to make in so little time. You will have to sludge your way across the muddy, icy marshlands and avoid getting trapped in the thick, deadly mud pits to get there but survival instincts instill a sense of urgency in your movements. You can pillage rusty weapons from the partly to mostly mud-buried skeletons of fallen soldiers on your way, but you had better keep a brisk pace if you want to survive the night. Take care not to grab a living body if you are grave-robbing.
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🜙 X Marks the Spot

	Night falls as you approach the outskirts of what used to be Atrómitos. In the poor light of dusk you can make out just enough to know that something is off about the silhouette of the great city, but you shrug it off to the exhaustion crashing down on you. Your limbs are heavy, your clothing drenched and thick with mud that is hardening in the biting cold. You are finding it hard to keep your eyes open and your limbs moving. Just across a bridge over the river is a large inn. The building is enticing, alive with the sounds of music and life. Light is twinkling from lanterns and candles in its windows, reminding you of warmth. You give the vanishing city silhouette in the distance one more look before it fades from view, swallowed by the approaching darkness. You will never make it to the city before the heavy black of a densely-clouded night cloaks your vision and strands you to stumble blindly across the uneven land and broken paths. It's too risky. You turn for the inn, knowing you have no coin to pay your way, and enter. The portly halfling woman at the bar catches sight of your muddy tunic and drenched form and heaves a heavy sigh, setting aside the flagons she had been cleaning to cross the inn and meet you at the door. "Another one, eh? I don't suppose you have even a handful of silver either?" She clucks disapprovingly, but there is warmth in her expression as she reaches a hand up, offering you a clean, dry towel. It is small, barely enough to dry your face, but it is a gesture of kindness. "Strange times, this. The lot of you are going to run us dry at this rate. Go on then, get yourself over to the fire. Alphie will bring you a flagon of mead and a bite to eat." She points a finger accusingly, stopping any efforts to speak. "And don't you be causing any trouble now. We have rooms enough to spare but you'll be sharing. Beggars can't be choosers. I don't want to hear a word of complaint or excuses. Shoo. Off with you." She doesn't wait for a reply, gesturing toward the large fireplace where a few strangers in similar dress and state to your own are talking over large flagons and bowls of something warm and savory-scented. A teen halfling brings you a bowl and flagon of your own once you find a seat, the smell of a hot and hearty mushroom stew greeting your senses. He also hands you a key fished from his pockets once you've taken your food and drink. "Mum says she expects you to help with chores in the mornin'. Don't be fightin' or she'll sick Boris on you." With that he leaves, heading back toward a massive beast of a saint bernard that sits by the bar. It maintains eye contact for a period before snorting and walking off after the boy. The heavy brass key in your hand goes to a room on the upper floors of the inn, a tag with the room number attached to the ring of it. Chances are you won't be alone when you turn in for the night, but there will be clean linens, a towel, and a fresh tunic and pair of pants in something near your size atop them. It isn't perfect, but it's something. The skies are clear in the morning and the ground is covered in a thin layer of fresh snow. True to the boy's word, Gilly, the woman from the night before, gives you a task in the morning. There are a number of chores, from tending to the sheep or pigs, shifting hay in the barn, cooking breakfast, dishes, doing laundry, or cleaning up the inn. Whatever the task, when you finish it she gives you a bowl of something warm to eat and she thanks you for your help around the inn. You are given the offer to stay so long as you keep doing chores to pay your way.
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🜙 Awakening the Soul

	You leave the inn, but before you can make much progress toward the city a strange sensation overtakes you. It feels like the pull of a magical compass, persistent and steady. The vial you picked up from the battlefield grows cold. It feels like ice against your skin. As the warmth fades from it, it also fades from you. Nothing warms you, not fire, furs, or even the false warmth of alcohol. With the cold comes pain as old injuries begin to appear on your skin, slowly growing worse over time. Succumbing to the pull you stumble back to the battlefield you came from, back across the frozen marshlands. The spot you rose from is untouched by the ice of frozen rain, the grass there still a vibrant green. Something strange is happening. With your animas now close to you and a device in your hand or pocket, you realize the sky has turned menacing once more. The dark clouds of the previous day have choked out the blue skies again and thunder rumbles, approaching at a fast pace. The storm crashes above you. Lightning cracks across the sky and thunder follows it. The weather has warmed enough that rain is falling once more and the hair on the back of your arm stands on end from the electricity in the air. You should get going.
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🜙 A City Under Siege. Warnings: Warfare, Death

	As you return to the city that used to be Atrómitos you quickly realize something has changed. Fires burn around the outskirts of the city. A skirmish has broken out and bulky knights in golden tunics are clashing with a band of fur and leather-clad red orcs, their faces painted with black and white colors of war. The sound of battle is familiar, and the orcs are pushing the city's defense back. There are a number of options before you. You could take advantage of the chaos and join the attack or loot the market. You could assist the defenders in fighting off the orc pillagers. You could slip by into the city and help the people trying to get away from or stop the fires. Or you could just find a local tavern, get a drink, and wait out the battle while you try to make sense of the city's vastly different appearance. Eventually, the defenders manage to beat back the attack and the fires are all extinguished. A crew of volunteers helps to move the bodies out of the city to waiting pyres. Anyone who manages to insert themselves into the crew could easily pilfer some weapons, items, or coin from the bodies. Post-attack the city returns to normal surprisingly quick, these attacks are common for the wall-less city. As night approaches, fires are lit on the outskirts and the city defenders start their nightly patrol. The temperature drops and the rain and thunder turns to snow. Winter is finally here.
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🜙 Divided We Fall.

	In the aftermath of the orc attack the smoke clears and rumors spread faster than fire through the city's streets and taverns. The general consensus is the orcs were after something or someone, but what? That depends on the rumors you hear, and which ones you choose to believe. The city is alive with whispers and theories while attempts to strengthen defenses and repair the damages are underway. Several things become clear in the aftermath: The Skywhale, the airship meant to travel between the City of the Free Peoples and Didymos has been badly damaged, sabotaged and grounded in the orc attack. People in the know about these sorts of things are saying it looks like it will take at least a week or two to be repaired. Winter's first harsh breath has stopped Krimnos' airships as well. The sudden and severe temperature drop in the mountains and the high risk of avalanches has grounded their ships temporarily. As a result, the City of the Free Peoples has effectively been cut off from the other cities. No one seems certain for how long, only that assistance will not be coming soon. And perhaps of more concern than any of this: the orcs are still out there, not far from the city, and they seem to be preparing for a second assault.
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🜙 A Mysterious Message.

	Some time during the chaos a message arrived to your courier. After finding someone who knows what the device is or some tinkering and exploration of your own you discover how to view the thought message it holds and what you find only adds to your confusion. Your message differs depending on your allegiance: Yearning: Do not forget why you are here. It is within your grasp now. You need only to claim what is yours. Hold strong and show no fear. -Epithymetikon Devotion: Burn bright in the dawn where your suns set. Your sacrifices will not be forgotten. Your efforts will not be in vain. Your soul will follow where your heart leads it. -Thymoeides Reason: There is an answer for every question. The truth will not find you. You must seek it for yourself. Do not lose sight of what you seek. -Logistykon
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🜙 It bites, it burns, it yearns and yearns. Warnings: Warfare, Death, Suicidal Orcs

	Snow continues to fall thick and heavy, coating the land in layer after layer of dense, wet, white until a foot of snow coats the plains and lowlands. It seems winter has arrived eagerly on time this year. Small raiding parties of orcs continue attacking the city periodically from different directions. The raiding parties never contain more than a dozen orcs and the attacks rarely last more than an hour. Fires are set, lives are lost, and the orcs vanish once more, their tactics and chosen locations unpredictable. A bounty is issued against the orc tribe, city-wide and open to all. Gold and silver are offered for any information gathered on the orcs and a much larger purse for any who bring back one of the orcs responsible, alive. No simple task as these orcs would sooner die by their own blades than be taken captive. The city is on lockdown, the airships are not coming or going, and city defenses are on high alert. The city's guards are recruiting anyone who is willing and able to help put out fires, fight the orcs, repair damage, offer their weaponry, their magical aid, or their healing talents to the effort. It is made known across the city that all who can help will be compensated in coin, and possibly other rewards, by Captain Lykos himself.

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⤛ Sources: 1 2 3 4 & 5 6 7

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Then perhaps I shall hunt for her, when I can find the means.

[ Her thumbs press gently into Ellis' ears, gentle and soft, before she leans and nudges their foreheads together again. This she can keep, even if people are still difficult. ]

And you? Does her master need food as well?

[That forehead? That means that there's a lick on the nose, extremely content and if wolves could smirk in satisfaction, Ellis would be doing just that. A hunting partner is a fine thing.]

Thank you for the offer, but I'm fine.

[He's eaten already, and there's no hunger in him for it.]

x marks the spot

It's hard to miss a woman like Shura, sitting at a table and playing dice with some strange men. She laughs loudly and flirts shamelessly, but the men don't stay long at her table. Perhaps they ran out of money, maybe it's because they knew she wasn't planning on going anywhere else with them, does it matter? Maybe it does, since she's beckoning towards you with a wink.

"C'mon, you wouldn't leave me all by my lonesome, would ya?"

By the way, there's a lion under the table. Good luck not kicking him on accident.

under siege - a

In some ways, Shura's impressed at this particular orc's tenacity and cleverness. He knew she couldn't beat Shura one-on-one, so he fled before she could do any more damage to her. Shura pursued, but she was good, hiding in the shadows and alleys, turning her attention to small fry, civilians trying to flee. And he almost got one, too. But again, as soon as Shura appeared, he fled.

So she was going to just have to best her at her own game, which meant setting a trap, and traps needed bait. The civilian is injured and unconscious, but he'll survive. As the orc hasn't left and doesn't seem to be moving in to finish the civilian off, he probably assumes he's as good as dead. So she just needed someone to draw him out, and there's someone who looks like they might be useful coming round the corner towards her! Time to turn on the waterworks and pretend she's in a panic as she reaches out to grab at a sleeve, touch a shoulder, whatever is easiest.

"Ah, you! You, do you know how to heal people? I--I don't know how to help him, and he's bleeding!" Shura's managing to pull off a pretty decent helpless act.

under siege - b

A broke girl who just woke up unemployed and with no relations can get desperate real quick. Shura might not be at her wits end, but she's perfectly willing to resort to robbing the dead. It wasn't like the city was going to be returning the orc corpses to their families, so it was fine if she swiped a few things for herself.

These orcs meet a gristly fate, dismembered and hacked to pieces, possibly the target of a few unhappy civilians taking out their anger and fear on an easy target. The smell of the corpses makes Shura's stomach turn, but better them than her at this point. Best to get to business and see if anything valuable was left on them.

It takes a moment for Shura to realize that the lion that has kept so close to her has ventured from her side. She turns her head to look over her shoulder, that fight or flight instinct kicking in--but no. The stupid thing has the orc's arm in his mouth, and doesn't he look pleased as punch?

"Gross! Shishi, drop that!"

It's somehow easier to deal with if this is all randomly done.

[ Davina glances at her wrist, at the vial hanging around it like a bracelet. It's also something she's considered for the past few nights since they've woken, only repudiated by her own animas who probably felt her intentions.

She sighs, her cat slinking back on her shoulder to nudge her cheek and neck as if sensing her disquiet once more. ]

If it requires us to endure some kind of pain, however ... [ She rubs Blaise's head. ] I just recently learned that these guys are linked to us in some way.

[He holds up a hand once he's satisfied with the distance.]

Hold for a moment. Shouldn't take long.

[And it's only a few minutes later that he feels, rather than sees, his animas return. It makes its way backwards up his coat and onto his shoulder, dragging a moderately sized bundle of comfrey up with it. Racter retrieves the bundle and gently brushes a few webs off the plant.

He offers Davina the comfrey once he's satisfied that it's clean.]

It won't be quite be enough, but we'll consider it a start. And a bit of petty satisfaction. Now, shall we continue? At a more reasonable pace, of course.

That may be perspective.

[Alucard hates both options equally. Nothing has hedged out as the preferrable version, but if it's random and he's the only person he knows that has undergone this, that is...better. His friends deserve their rest. His parents deserve that rest. Let him shoulder the strangeness of the world.

He is also very set to ask about pain, but the word linked is far more important.]

How so?

[In both how are they linked and how was this learned?]

Poe keeps a watchful eye on the bird. He couldn't do an aerial lookout for them, but perhaps her companion could. He smiles at her interpretation of the bird's inspection of the map and shifts some of the weights holding it down to trace a path from the city to the ruins.

"If we wrap around here toward the north west it will take a little longer but I think we might be clear. Word on the street is the orcs are making their camp somewhere to the south. We'll just have to keep an eye and an ear out for raiders. Bey has good ears and a nose for orcs. Between his nose and ears and Azoth's eyes, I think we could get there with little to no issue."

And if they did encounter any orcs, Poe would put his bow to use.

"Do you have a weapon, or some magic you can use if we get into trouble? I can take any orcs we come across if there aren't too many, but Bey isn't exactly a fighter." He looks down at the harmless looking sleeping dog and shakes his head.He would have preferred something with wings that could keep up with him but Bey was already too important to him to risk injury.

She's examining the courier late in the evening, a pint of something alcoholic in front of her. It's a curious thing. The entire line of them, the simple ones to the more complicated ones. They did look to be useful little things, and Shura might have been happy to use one of the things in less dubious circumstances. She doesn't expect to be approached about the device, and she's prepared to lie about the trinket until she realizes that this man was likely in the same situation as she was.

"Heh, I think it can do whatever it wants." She lets the device roll over her fingers, catching it before it slips entirely off of her pinky. "I doubt that lying would be the end of its abilities."

"A dragon that I've never met before and was never loyal to likes me best," Billie deadpans. She doesn't need to add obvious sarcasm to this. Does she need to add obvious sarcasm to this? Guess she's about to find out. "Look..."

Okay, but more seriously. She waves at the message on the courier.

"What are these things, anyway? I've seen people with them. For all we know, someone's pulling a scam by pretending to be the dragons."

"C'mon, worst that would have happened if I were wrong is you assume I hit my head on the way here," Billie says, shrugging. She pauses to hook her mask back to her belt now that it's off, getting it out of the way for now. "But I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't pretty sure, so don't think I'm running around doing that."

She's more subtle than that, alright?

"Guess our unknown necromancer has been pretty busy. Think it's safe to assume everyone at the X with an animal is one of us?"

[ Davina honestly doesn't want to demonstrate it in any way, not after seeing her animas in discomfort along with hers. But it might be easier to show it than to simply explain it; after all, she has no explanation as to what kind of magic this is. And how they were linked in the first place.

She'd try to unlink them but she doesn't know the consequences of doing that. ]

I was in a minor accident a day ago or so while moving the hay out in the back and, well. [ Her cat seems to have felt the same way. She slowly brings Blaise back down on the table, her hand still resting on his head. ]

I deliberately tried it again to make sure it's not a fluke and it was obvious that Blaise was feeling the same pain. Have you never noticed it with yours?

[ Or maybe he's just not as clumsy as her? ]

Oh, there's a well-armed raccoon talking to her. Shura isn't stupid enough to underestimate him based on size alone, but taking out a few orcs?

"Nn, you want me to be honest?" Of course she doesn't want to go out and put her life at risk for this!! But did she really have a choice in the matter?

[ It's the apology that gets to him. James knows that kind of apology; he's given it too many times, himself. The worst had been when he'd had to give the news about Gideon and Fabian to their sister. Her face would be seared into his memory for year to come, that lift in her eyes of hope moments before the words had settled on her ears and every hint that it had ever been there at all had banished into anguish.

For some reason, that's the memory that clears his mind. James feels blank, and then he sets his jaw so hard it almost aches. That memory—the look in her eyes and the way she'd forced it back down until no doubt she was alone to grieve—is what he'd always been fighting to end. This is fuel. This is a reason to stand.

Oddly, there's a ghost of something similar on Ellie's face for just a moment, too. It flickers across her eyes before it vanishes, and James' vision draws back into focus. He's silent and studies her as he reaches out to take the handkerchief, but it's not without gratitude, either. ]

I'll do it. I can...

[ He doesn't finish the sentence, but James looks away to do so. His hands tremble uncomfortably as he brushes the damp cloth over the dead boy's face, and his deep breath mirrors Ellie's. Finally, James gets to his feet and picks the boy up with him as he mumbles, ] Thanks.

[ Then: ]

Do you think I should bury him here? I don't want to leave his body in the open air...

[Alucard listens. He listens carefully.

And when Davina's explanation is done, he somehow looks even more grave than before. If that was possible at all, as his entire manner so far has been much too serious.

Ellis has also perked at this explanation, the wolf finally picking herself up off the floor and being elegant enough to stand on her hind legs, front paws and head now on the table. This concerns her too, and maybe she can bait the cat into something stupid.

There's a careful moment of consideration before Alucard answers.]

I...can't say I've had any accidents, but based on this reaction alone [he gestures at the entire wolf head on the table] I have zero doubts about any of this.

Excellent.

[ It really is. It's with a sort of glee that feels ill-placed among the smoke and the sounds of fighting that James clambers up onto the hand. That itself could be the reason for the strange, twisted feeling that sits suddenly in his stomach, but he manages to take a breath and find a steady foothold in the earth. ]

Is this sustained magic you're performing to keep its shape, then? Not a conjuration that you just need to manipulate to where you want it to go at the right moments?

[ He makes brief eye contact with Prongs as he leans down to offer a hand to Strange if he needs it to step up with him. Prongs stands still, then lowers his head and moves forward to circle the hand slowly. He makes no effort to leap onto it. ]

It seems like we're going up against trained, militant orcs. I don't think we have many other options that wouldn't be suicidal.

[He has been collecting arrows from around the city to fill his quiver, defending the city's streets the way he would have for either of his own cities.]

Are you interested?

Poe leans against the wall not far from the bench, a small beagle that had been trailing him seemingly content to lie back down at his feet and go back to sleep. The chill on the air is a pleasant change from the crowded heat of the inn. It reminds him of the frigid nights in Krimnos. He crosses his arms, watching his breath escape upwards, before glancing over to the woman beside him with a smile.

"As nice as can be expected, given the state of things." Poe leaves his response vague enough he could just be referring to the orc attacks. He has a jacket provided to him by a grateful citizen, it's fur-lined and warm enough to keep the chill from biting unpleasantly at his limbs.

"At least it's snowing now." Preferable to the rain in his opinion, though it had helped some with the fires. "And you?"

[ The first night, there was nobody there. Which honestly, Strange was fine with. He was used to being alone or used to having his wife for comfort. Anybody else serving as a roommate, as he knew some others had, would be workable, but annoying. Needless to say, he wasn't expecting David to show up and certainly wasn't expecting David to show up while he was bent towards the ground, packing the few, ragged items he managed to obtain in a trunk, as if this would somehow make him seem more presentable and less like a recently raised from the dead ragamuffin.

And considering that Strange assumes that everyone's talking to him unless stated otherwise, he assumes that David's statement is directed at him. He stands up from where he was bent down and looks over David, arms crossed in front of his chest with a wry little smile on his face. ]

Rest assured, should I want to torment someone, I'm certain I can do better than stalking. Though considering I've no idea who you are in the first place, there's a hole in your theory from the front.

[ The hare that was curled up on the bed perks up, as she looks over at David with an interested expression. ]

[ Power. Control. Command over life and death, over others' state of being, decisions over who deserves to live and live freely. That's what James knows, and now it makes him even more uneasy than before. He shifts in his seat, shakes off the pricking chill from the back of his neck and bites down hard on his tongue. ]

Seems to.

[ He frowns and crosses his arms over his chest, thinking. He doesn't think they would be here if everything in the world had fully moved beyond them. Beyond their time. ]

Has it moved on, or has it just... changed? Why now, why did it take so long? [ James removes his glasses and begins angrily cleaning them on his tunic. ] Can that even be answered without knowing our purpose for being here? Is it random, those of us who were so lucky as to wake out of the ground, or were we chosen individually? No one thought to ask our opinions, not even just a simple survey, a "yes" or "no" on "How are you feeling about changing your mind on the being dead thing, your family is gone and everyone you knew long passed but you get a nice little pet in compensation"?

Strange's hare darts ahead, running in front of the two as she also makes her way towards the noise and smoke. When they reach there, a battalion of city guardsmen are subduing a small group of orcs. However, one of the nearby houses is completely ablaze, almost the entire rooftop in flames.

"I'll work on the house!" Strange calls out, as he looks over at Christine then gets right back to actual work. Honestly, he is fine with her doing whatever the heck she wants to do. Strange is just looking at priority #1 (big burning house) and deciding that he'll take care of that thing first.

Groot bends to Rocket's tugging like a sapling in a soft breeze, allowing the tiny beastman to move his arm and his vines as he sees fit. He ends up half hunched, kneeling next to Rocket and Lylla. He holds the makeshift bandage still and watches as Rocket ties it off.

"I am Groot," he says and, as if proving his statement true, the small mouse in his core scrambles and peeks its head through a gap in the vines at his shoulder. It's little black eyes stare at Rocket and then at Lylla and, after a moment of contemplation, it worms its way out of Groot's chest and jumps, taking a flying leap until it is scrambling across Rocket's bag.

"I am Groot."

Racter never gave much thought to the teaching portions of the career before - it was simply a means to keep his spot in the labs open. But somehow fate keeps bringing him students. It seems they may be having more of an impact than his research did. The thought is bittersweet. He lived and died for his work, and he doesn't regret any of it, but he wonders what may have become of the other promising young minds who passed through his classroom. Perhaps he'll meet yet more of them.

"Somehow, yes. As are you! A pleasant surprise on both counts." Even without the sensory link, the adrenaline of combat has yet to fully fade, and he's almost giddy from the residual bloodlust. He doesn't notice Jaime's trepidation, or the pointed way that Jaime is ignoring the golem at work. Racter himself occasionally glances at the construct to make sure it is still performing as expected.

It remains relentless, attacking without care for its own condition, and he can see from the numerous slashes across the limbs that the raiders are learning how to deal with it. More metal cladding on the limbs next time, and a denser wood beneath. But for now, he has no desire to lose another creation to these orcs.

"We can catch up later, when I can give you my full attention. For now, Captain Lykos said he wanted the raiders alive. Let's see if we can rise to that challenge."

Again, Racter's eyes shine gold as he reconnects to the golem. Again, it goes for tendons, joints, any weak points it can use to knock down and cripple the attackers. But now, it a greater focus on dodging, trying to protect its own body and limbs. It's almost enough, counting only the raiders who remain standing. But the one knocked down earlier has not given up, and grabs hold of the golem's front leg. The construct twists to break loose, pulls desperately. The opposing forces are too much for the strained wood and it snaps. A hard strike with the remaining front leg is enough to knock the orc unconscious, but the damage is done.

It's not real, he's felt it many times before, he knows and yet the simulated pain ~~still~~ ~~always~~ manages to surprise him. Racter inhales sharply, grabbing at his own arm involuntarily. But he doesn't drop the link, and now three-legged golem simply throws itself even more aggressively into the fray.

Edited 2018-12-10 04:23 (UTC)

[ Her cat is crawling towards the wolf head resting on one side of the table, tempting him to do something stupid. But knowing Blaise, it could be doing the other way around as well, baiting the other animas to do something stupid. ]

The linking spells that I know of work both ways, [ she says that carefully, looking at the two animas.

She's seen it used as leverage before, a way to blackmail the other party's loved ones. Any injury or illness that befalls one party will also reflect on the other, even death. And considering how seemingly fragile these creatures are compared to them ... He can imagine where this is going. ]

I don't want to test it out to see if it's the same here.

[Alucard's face is impassive as he continues to listen. James isn't so much talking as having a stream of consciousness moment, at least from where Alucard sits, but there's something bigger there. Everything said is what has been churning in Alucard's own head for...however many days that this farce has been going on for.

So he stays perfectly still. Waits until it seems like James is done, because all the questions are rhetorical. It's just the same confusion and anger and what the fuck that he knows so achingly well.

When it is all done, a very thin smile flicks across the dhampir's face.]

Well said.

I haven't decided.

[The elf is free to think he was being addressed. Doug won't correct him. The opossum begins gently gnawing on one of Doug's fingers in a playful and harmless manner as he turns his attention away toward the new arrival.]

I'm wearing the colors of a city I've never been to - one that no longer exists in the state I even could have know it in. Yet it's not there I was revived, it was here. [Where he died.] And there was surely a reason.

[His abilities could be useful, but some direction would be nice.]

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Page 14 of 39

Event #1: The Big One

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shura | ota

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message

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it bites

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divided we fall

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