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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( he takes a second to weigh up his options, then nods. )

If you'll have me.

( one might mistake it this for modesty if he hadn't already shown his cards, so to speak. if anything, it's more that he's attempting gauge Rocket's willingness to have him given the sentiment some have toward mages and sorcerers.

though the Raccoon seems nothing if not pragmatic. )

[ It was incredibly naive and impulsive for her to speak the way she did — but there's a varying degree of responsibility for something like this. She's never travelled across a tear with another person, the knotting fear of something going wrong gnaws at her, but.

With a summon of her strength, a few feet away: something odd happens. It's at first like a spark, a gray electric rip that pockets in an oval. Yet, like a festering wound, it spreads. Gray static pulls from seemingly nowhere until they find a very clear portal in their view — through the static, a small barn is visible, all with chickens clucking and cows chomping on hay. Seemed like it was a safe part of the outskirts.

Elizabeth hesitates, a harsh gulp of spit bobs her throat a bit and with a grasp on his hand — she tugs. Lord, does she tug. Shaky with her movements and careful not to slip, Elizabeth leads the stranger halfway through the portal. ]

Relax.

[ She reiterates with one leg inside of the portal, a steady drop of blood begins to trickle from a nostril. ]

Just mind your nose when you come through.

[ And, through they go! ]

All right.

( a better man might press the issue, insist she stay at a reasonable distance, and for all that he is tempted — because there is something behind the clench of her teeth, that determined lift of her chin, that tells him just how unused to the idea of someone stepping between her and danger must be. how much it must unnerve her. )

Between the two of us, we're bound to make a fine meal for whatever lies in store.

( still, he pushes on, hand hovering within reach of the axe on his belt. )

The war is not over.

[ Evidently. Lauralae does not pause as she moves through the town, ducking a little as she pushes herself through the undergrowth, around behind the backs of buildings and the shapes of things that might not have been well kept. There are times where she drops to her hands and knees and avoids what might be someone watching or aiming at her, more like an animal than a person, and she nods her head as she turns back to look at David.

Voice low, she speaks again. ]

Not to them. Perhaps they fight for the sake of it, or perhaps they are just bandits, but their war is not over. They will fight until their blood is gone and their lives have been drained completely. It is their nature, as it is the nature of many mortals.

[ Lifting her hand, she whistles, a raven fluttering down to land on her hand. ]

Are you well? Harmed?

Flatterer.

[ said flatly, as if she thought it needed clarification that she doesn't actually take 'you're good enough to eat' as a compliment. Wild. There are going to be some Feelings about looking back on this conversation in like a month, I'm sure. Rey comes up short as they reach the marsh.

The cold is intolerable now, even through his magical fire. ]

Do you feel that? [ She can't see her breath. It's not the air. But her skin is pale with the chill in her fingertips when she pulls the gloves off to look. They're not doing anything anyway. She grabs for his hand. ]

[ Strange gives David a triumphant little smug smile, takes the vial, grabs the cork, tries to pry it open...and nothing happens. Hmm. The smug smile fades to a very confused frown as Strange gives the cork another hard yank. Nope. ]

That's odd. It doesn't look like it's glued in. [ ONE MORE SOLID TUG FOR GOOD MEASURE and nope, nothing's happening. Strange looks damn confused as he hands the vial back to David. ]

We could try breaking it, but I don't have a spare vial or bowl to keep the liquid in.

"I'm sure stranger things have happened~" Or will. The entire thing has her on edge, but there's not much she can do about it besides taking things on as they come.

Speaking of taking things as they come, that luck is coming to an end. While mostly safe in the alley, they're coming up on a main street. There's a fight going on, now far. Of course, it's hard to tell by sound alone just who's out there. It's more than a few people, though. The lion comes to a stop, his ears pulling back. Shura slows, a frowning tugging on her lips.

"You hear that? I can't tell if that's more of the orcs or someone friendly." Shura has her magic and her sword. A couple orcs probably wouldn't be an issue, but the spell she had used before required a bit of time to set up. She couldn't pull off the same thing here.

[Luckily, Ellie has no idea what a dhampir using their powers looks like. While she isn't exactly sheltered, she has less experience with beings like those.]

We're alive, aren't we? That's what matters. [Ellie gets the feeling that this mage would have handled herself just fine if Ellie had just stayed quiet. She seems like a soldier.

Six on one isn't great odds, though. Ellie isn't going to apologize, anyway.

She slowly pushes herself up, wincing. The wounds aren't terrible or life threatening. If her adrenaline were still going, she could manage fine. If she can find a magical healer, it would be great for her ribs. Otherwise, she can grin and bare it.

The world pitches angrily as she gets to her feet, defying that. Theseus whimpers, front leg kept gingerly off the ground.]

Fuck. [It doesn't take long for the vertigo to settle, but she knows walking won't help.] ...Think you can help me find a healing station?

[Ironically, the easiest way for Ellie to trust someone is through fighting together. Not kindness or otherwise.]

I thought so.

I heard some people talking about their dead skeletons around Idan. They'd know if the dragons came back, right?

[Ellie glances carefully at the snowy expanse, just in case something's moving in the snow. There's nothing. Theseus sighs and leans into Ellie, fur fluffed against the wind.]

I don't know. Maybe they're the ones who brought us back. [It's a fanciful suggestion - Ellie has no idea if the dragons were capable of that, considering they are very, very dead. But dragon magic is weird.]

Davina.

[ She catches her animas's paw before it tries to take another playful swipe at the wolf in return. She doesn't want to experience what it feels like being chewed on by a wolf; she's pretty sure it's not something pleasant, as much as she wants her cat to learn a thing or two. ]

Let me know as well if you find anything out before I could. Sometimes, the answers are all right there in front of us, being annoying.

[ She'll also try to figure out a way to communicate with him. Without using pigeons or something. ]

Well, it'd be hard to miss something giant and fire-breathing especially if it flies overhead, right?
Hopefully, if they're the ones who woke us up, then they're friendly and won't eat us.

[ Davina offers her a wry smile, which is her way of saying that yep, they're still dead, no sign of them getting out of their graves like them.

She lets out a soft exhale, closing her eyes for a moment before remembering something. She does her best to be quiet as she rummages through her cloth sack; she's collected a few things while at the inn, swiping some objects that wouldn't be missed by anyone. She soon pulls out an empty vial, small enough to fit her palm.

A murmur of a spell later, and she smiles widely as magical fire start to flicker inside the vial, turning the glass warm to the touch. She passes it over to Ellie. ]

Here, this should keep you warm for a bit.

I sure hope so.

[Ellie hesitates for a moment, not sure that Davina's not trying to pass her live fire before she sees the glass. She takes it carefully, awed by the tiny flame.]

Thank you.

[Ellie holds it between her hands for a moment, and then reaches down to take Theseus' front paw and holds it in both of her hands with the vial. There, now they can both get warm.]

How did you learn magic?

Edited 2018-12-23 03:20 (UTC)

[If Ellie had more insight, she might realize that her irritability is coming from the fading adrenaline. She might take a deep breath and realize these people have nothing to do with this, and shake her head.

Instead, she makes a sharp little motion with her shoulder - not quite a shrug, not quite anything else.]

They're suicidal. If you can, might as well make sure they're dead.

[The patrol picks up the pace slightly. Ellie can't bring herself to care, and wrings her hands instead. It's an old, bad habit.] Otherwise, they'll keep coming back until they get whatever they want. Or until there are too few to keep going.

[That's all kinds of fucked up, but Ellie's been over aggressive for a while, now. She's learned to prefer the finality of death over anything else she could do to protect herself.]

[ Davina smiles at the pair. There we go, maybe that would help them not freeze in this weather. ]

My mom taught me when I was little.

[ How to harness it, how to control it, how to not be controlled.

She grew up surrounded by magic her entire life. Never knew a day when she didn't use magic, although it's not always the "good" kind of magic. And she admits that there was once a time when she'd found herself getting twisted up by the same thing she believed in when she was a child. ]

You never learned how to use it?

"I am Groot," he drawls as he turns toward the city, plodding forward at an even pace. His stride is very wide and, while he takes few steps, he actually moves very quickly. The wood under Rocket creaks and the axe in his grip shifts a bit as he moves, but he is very stable despite all his strange sounds.

"I am Groot."

Groot attempts to keep an eye out for the river but, truth be told, he is very hard pressed to tell the difference between ice and frozen water on the surface of the ground. It is a distinction he has never really had to pay much mind to.

[While Theseus looks very concerned as Ellie brings the vial of fire to her paw, she doesn't draw back, and eventually relaxes into Ellie's touch.]

No, I never had a talent for it. [Many people had some capacity for it, but their lives led them away from practicing magic to any great extent. Not her.

Ellie pauses to pick up Theseus' other paw, making sure it's pressed close to the glass. She might have to make some leather socks for Theseus - good news is, there are plenty of orcs to take leather from.

...animal leather. Not orc--ew.]

There was a class in the orphanage I grew up in for it. It didn't go well. [Ellie wiggles her right eyebrow, showing off the scar bisecting it. At least she can laugh about it now. Once upon a time, she wailed and bitched endlessly over not having cool magic powers.]

Does it run in your family?

[Early in the evening, Ellie's still awake, frowning at the animal sitting in front of her. It's a wolf looking creature, nervous and fidgety and it needs a few hour's chores worth of meat to be happy, apparently. It seems just as unnerved by Ellie as she is of it.

She's incredibly muddy and sooty, though - so is Ellie. She needs to use the wash basin, but she's too drained to get up and go. The wolf(?) keeps clinging to Ellie and trying to crawl into the bed, which is barely enough for Ellie as is. She's tall for a human woman, broad shouldered, and this is a tiny twin sized cot.

Ellie knows she needs to take off her boots, get undressed, but that takes effort. She still doesn't know if she even had a roommate yet. If they're going to be like her, in green and gold, or from some other city. She thinks most people were sick of the war, but they all kept fighting for a reason, right? What kept others from attacking her?]

Edited 2018-12-23 07:12 (UTC)

He registers the young woman's sympathy for the girl, and for a moment, he wonders how personal that sympathy might be. He's never hidden his ability, especially not in adulthood, but he's also been judicious about who he shows it to and when. And he's always been aware that people he meets who know what he is will judge others like him on his behavior, in the same way that he's been judged on the behavior of people he's never met. A child doesn't ask to be born a shiftling, just as they don't ask to be born a bastard. They bear the weight of it nonetheless.

"We should," he agrees. And then he's in through the window.

The room is smoky, but the fire isn't in it yet. Some of the scant furniture is toppled. He turns to the right -- nothing. But a corridor leads back... back into an area with more flames and smoke than where they are now.

He calls out in a strong voice, "We're here to help you!," then listens for mewling that he doesn't hear. Why didn't he get the girl's name from her brother? He casts a helpless look over in the direction where the young woman should be if she followed him in.

The little mouse regards Rocket curiously, its large dark eyes unreadable and scrubs its tiny paws through its whiskers as Rocket proclaims what he expects the future will hold. It watches the bread as Rocket breaks it off and then as Groot takes it. The arboreon doesn't break a smaller piece off for the little creature, but rather sets the whole thing down on Rocket's bag, also. The mouse sees no problem with this arrangement and promptly begins stuffing its tiny cheeks with stale bread.

"I am Groot?" It is a question asked with some urgency, if only because Groot rather prizes his seeds and the flowers they grow. The mouse, meanwhile, has managed to stuff almost half of the bread chunk into its mouth but doesn't appear to have swallowed any of it yet.

The dog leads the way and Groot follows after it. Why he does this is a question worth asking, but Groot doesn't think too long on it. This is a friendly creature and it wants him to follow, so he does. Eventually they reach a break in the dog's path and it stops.

Groot looks ahead of them and eyes the mud and the water. The stream is just wide enough to be noticeable among the marsh, it is moving fast enough that he can see it move in the dimness around them. The mud shines at its banks and, for a moment, the arboreon is very confused. Why had they stopped? He looks down at the dog and then moves forward.

"I am Groot?"

His foot sinks into the mud ahead of him and Groot is still a moment as he fins his balance. Eventually the ground grows dense enough beneath him to stop his foot, but his leg is planted well into the mud. It would be much too deep for the dog to travel through. He could wade it, but in his experience there were few furry things that liked to be lifted.

Rather than pick the dog up straight away, Groot leans back and offers his hand.

"I am Groot."

Groot, rather fundamentally, dislikes fire. When the sparks that flicker around him threaten to catch him aflame, he tries to move away, or to swat at them, but only manages to scald his arm in the process. If it weren't for the sudden and impressive summoning of water, Groot was sure his arm would have caught aflame. He stares at it and then, after a moment, looks down at the man who was just dancing before him.

"I am Groot."

He lowers his arm and bends just slightly to try to be closer to the man's height. It is a pointless effort that just causes him to loom. He has no idea how he summoned water, or why he had to dance to do it, but it was a good dance and, now that he is not on fire, Groot would rather like to see it again.

"I would be happy to begin with that." Such a repayment would only be the start -- healing was worth far more than one night's worth of chores.

Yeah, long line of witches in my mom's family. And then, there's my dad.

[ Whom she really doesn't want to delve into and says nothing more about him. A hundred years, and she still hasn't moved on. Typical of her, really.

Davina glances at her with a stifled laugh, shaking her head. ]

Not sure with your class, but we don't usually start lessons with fire magic.
Maybe you're more attuned with some other kind of magic.

"To put it one way. Some connection with magic or the supernatural may indeed be the common cause that binds us." Others species with more magic in their blood, for example, might be more subject to such... influence, shall they say.

"It is difficult to name them." Indeed, she simply couldn't name one thing she considered stranger, though she had to admit her resources were limited.

Unable to hear so keenly thanks to the breath and occasional moanings of her passenger, she stopped in turn. "Do they sound at all organized?" From her observations, the orc battle lines were not.

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Page 31 of 39

Event #1: The Big One

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Big mood

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[For Jaime - x Mark's the spot]

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