usir | Event #1: The Big One

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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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( chill fingers brush against his skin and he's not sure what startles him more: the cold or her reaching for him at all. )

I ㅡ yes. ( an awkward clearing of his throat. ) I've been trying not to think of it.

( of what it might mean.

he curls his fingers around hers, squeezing gently. )

Well, I'm missing a few items to make my spell work.

[ After all, the last time she's used the same spell was a hundred years ago, when her collection of trinkets and herbs were extensive from years and years of practice and the forests had been familiar to her. Right now, she's working in a strange land with nothing in her pockets but dirt. ]

Mind if you keep an eye out for me for a moonstone and a white muskroot?

[ His fingers, too, have that look of limited blood flow. It had been a functional thing, to grab his hand, but as his fingers curl in hers, Rey finds her breath shortening, stopping her from pulling away.

She tells herself it's for the warmth. She holds onto his glove in her other hand, clutching it inside a balled fist.

Rey looks out at the battlefield. ]

I think we're close. [ To where she rose, at least.

She can see the patch of green that she hauled herself out of the ground from. She goes still, terrified to confront it, paralyzed and shivering. But there's an object lying there on the grass, green and gold and polyhedral, and Rey squeezes Kylo's hand before letting it go to advance towards that place. ]

"Such is the way with healers," she answers with an easy smile. "People need our services, but don't want to become too familiar with the inside of our clinics, as it means they are hurt or ill far too often. I understand. Good luck out there."

Moonstone and white muskroot. Yes, of course.

[ It's said aloud so she can better commit it to memory. In due time she'll buy herself a notebook for all the lists she'll need to make, and these items can go there if they don't happen to find them today. ]

What sort of spell is it, exactly?

[Teddy shares no such discipline, his wounds aching and his body hunched with the tension of combat. He gives her an acknowledging nod before dropping the bloodied sword he had taken up earlier to the ground. It doesn't belong to him and he doesn't intend to keep it.

He looks around them at the clearing streets and then out, away from the city, shaking out the stiffness from his hand.]

Looks like we cleared this area. May your skills keep you alive in any battles that follow. [He looks back to the stranger really looking her over for a moment to keep a mental image in his mind, a good fighter and one not to cross, but doesn't offer his name or ask for hers.]

I have people to check on.

Curious. An answer like that spoke to a certain amount of loneliness, did it not?

"Again, my thanks. Take care."

Making a mental note to look her up again in the future, she turned to head back into the fray. A soldier's work was not done until the battle was.

There will be no rest for any of us until the battle is done.

[She checks over their fallen foes, comparing their weapons to her own salvaged ones and finding little to choose from among them. Damn, she has to get some better weapons...]

May those you seek be well.

[Back into the fray, without hesitation, blue flames trailing in her wake as her power rises once more. Good luck, sir, and they shall meet again.]

Detection spell. Seeing that most of us— [ She glances around them to make sure that no one's listening in. Then again, everyone else is busy pulling themselves together after the attack. ] —got up from the same battlefield, it should at least have some traces of the magic used on us.

[ Davina simply can't imagine that there's no magic involved in this. It's impossible, and given their number, it's a substantial amount of magic that was definitely used. ]

If we could figure out what kind of magic it was, we might be able to trace it to its source.

[ Ideally speaking, of course. But any lead is a good lead to start with. ]

[It's strange to find someone so willing to help him so readily. People had always been more willing to do little things for him as a stray dog then as a man, but even that kindness had its limits.

He doesn't resist the help and when the man is close enough Teddy rests his head on the man's shoe, rolling onto his uninjured side. He keeps an eye on the man's hands, but doesn't show any uneasiness.

He had spent his first night with a towering tree man, he is fine spending another night with a stranger if it means avoiding a night out in the snow. His fur only did so much against the bite of the winter cold.]

Charm bracelet? For a moment, Daud is confused as to what she’s talking about, unsettled and out of place, until he realizes he’s clutching something tight enough to dig through the leather of his glove. Automatically, he brings it up for a closer inspection, frowning at the design, sensing ... some power. But not one he’s familiar with.

“It’s a talisman,” he says, gravely, running his fingers along the groove. “Magic, though I don’t recognize the make.”

Nothing like his own charms he’s used to, that’s for certain. But he knows the look of an object put together for pleasure and an object put together for purpose, and this is certainly the latter. With a last little frown, he puts it away into a pocket, then looks up at Billie.

“...Let’s go,” he says, evenly, bending down to tear his knife out, wipe it clean on the orc’s clothes, and resheathe it before he moves to start tugging at one heavy limb. “Sooner we finish, sooner we get paid.”

That sounds sensible.

[ Christine enjoys discussing spells and academia related to them, but she enjoys the practical application of spells just as much. ]

I can't picture the source not making themselves known to us, but if we can discover what happened first, it make give us the upper hand.

Groot, momentarily caught up in the sudden cut of his vines, doesn't see as Rocket goes down. It takes him a moment but, with Christine's shout, his attention is drawn back to the fight. Lylla is already at the Orc's side, tugging on the creature but she is too small. Groot, however, is not.

The orc is lifted bodily from the ground. Groot tries to hoist him up, unaware that Rocket is pinned to it, and ends up letting his friend dangle as he lifts the corpse he's attached to. His eyes scan the ground before he spots Rocket--he makes a sad and startled sound and twists the orc to try to see the beastman more clearly.

The last orc is entirely forgotten as Groot helps his friend.

( it's a long, careful process.

first he wipes away the blood as much as he can, taking a moment to consider the wound — it's deep but not too deep. something that should heal with time and care.

next, he crushes the garlic, making it into a paste which he then smears carefully over the wound. that done, he does his best to bandage it. ) There, ( he says finally, smiling a little. pleased with himself. ) that should do for now.

( this said, he sets down the bowl of food — some kind of stew — beside the water bowl. ) Try not to chew at it. ( the bandages, he means. )

( it really is an impressive display. Rocket moves with the sort of fluid confidence that speaks of a lifetime of practice — then again, perhaps he should expect as much of someone that knows a formula for strange alchemical potions by heart.

still, he follows Rocket's instructions, picking his way through the Market in search of any concealed containers. Tira, chittering on his shoulder.

he regards Lylla a moment, munching away at her snack, and he wonders if he can't train her.

it's at the third...possibly fourth stall that he found something interesting, pausing. staring. it's one of those alchemical stalls: dried herbs and strange powders spread out across the table in a rainbow of colors. )

I think I found something.

He doesn't see the blue flash from where he is, but he can tell that she was trapped for a moment, a moment during which he wasn't sure how he could help her. And then it's a bit of a surprise for him to be told to hurry by a slip of a girl, but he does. That back room will go, and the fire will spread -- fast.

It's not long before they're back out in the narrow street with the boy. Once they're in the fresh air, the cat begins to sputter and wheeze a little more, then to struggle.

"She's not in good shape," he says to the boy. "Can you get her to a healer?"

The struggling increases until he moves to set her down, and then, with a mighty cough, a little girl is sprawled on the ground.

Jon frowns and puts himself between the girl and any open view, then looks to Rey.

"I haven't either. But we're not alone."

He shakes his head, thoughtful, dismissive: for the moment, the next few moments, it doesn't matter much.

"There's nothing to do but try to help these people here. Don't know why they're being attacked to begin with. Because it's the city, and that's always been the way?"

A weaker city now than it had been in his time.

"Impossible to determine at the moment," Alucard says, his ears both on Jon and the fighting beyond them. "Beyond the fact that the defenses are lower, thus an easy target. Figuring out the current geo-political landscape isn't something I've gotten to yet."

It was good to know those things. In life, it helped determine where he could travel safely and what must be avoided. Now, that had fallen by the wayside in favor of simply coming to grips with the current situation.

"Two of them are incoming from your left. Shall we?"

The poor girl is bare, and it's cold. She can't be more than nine. Rey glances back into the house, as though to consider going back for the drapes, but a puff of smoke billows out as something within collapses, overtaken by the flames. Going back in there is a suicide mission.

Rather than risk herself, Rey takes off her own cloak and passes it off to Jon to wrap around the girl while the boy nods his head urgently, affirming his usefulness. After a pause, he looks between them, asks, 'Can you help me bring her?' Of course it'd be too much to ask him to carry her like this, so Rey nods.

"Yeah. Yeah, we'll bring her. You just lead the way." Looking back at Jon, her expression seems to seek some clarification, affirmation, but ultimately it doesn't matter. If Jon won't join them, Rey can carry the girl herself.

[The stall is abandoned, the person in charge of it presumably scared off by the most recent orc attack or dead.

Rocket climbs under the stall table and peers up over the edge from the other side, picking up various packets and bundles of dried herbs and tossing them over his shoulder as he goes. Then he finds it. A sack hanging from the side of the table that gives off a pungent smell when opened. He grimaces and puls the cords tight, yanking it free and tossing it over the table toward his companion before quickly looking around to see if anyone noticed.

So far they're in the clear.]

I need a bottle of snake oil. See if you can find any parashrooms and meet me near the south side of the market. [He grabs a bowl and ducks back under before disappearing into the crowd. When they meet back up of he's sitting on a box, bowl, two crossbow bolts, and a small bottle beside him. He's holding several large strips of dried fish and seems to be snacking on one while offering broken pieces of the other to the otter on the ground in front of him.]

Rocket lets out a sound between a snarl and a howl, grabbing for Groot's arm with a frantic twist of his body to keep from dangling off the orc, like an accessory.

"Damn it, Groot." He isn't angry with his arboreon friend, but the pain makes his voice come out in a strangled growl. He hangs onto Groot's arm once he gets purchase, his grip tight and slightly panicked because he's still attached to the dead orc. He grits his sharp teeth, face twisted into an expression of concentration and pain, and lets go with one arm to snap the arrow near where it is coming out of his leg. He wrenches his leg free with another howl, echoed by a pained sound from Lylla, and nearly collapses onto Groot's arm, hugging it with both of his far smaller ones to keep from dropping down onto his injured limb.

"Look before you lift." The second part is said muttered into hardened vines, his face squished into Groot's arms to mask the grimace. He doesn't want to look at his leg and he shouldn't have ripped it off of the arrow like that, but it was better than the alternative. The important thing is the orc is dead and Groot is clearly going to be okay. Rocket knew that from the start but instincts overrode his more rational mind when Groot was hurt.

There isn't much time, and so Christine has to do something she really would rather not do. Sensing the plan, Azoth launches up in the air off her shoulder and starts circling the camp from the air. Taking the knife that Rocket gave her from her belt, Christine races towards the group and sinks it down into the chest of the orc she send to the ground, needing to make sure he's dead and unable to launch another crossbow bolt at them. She takes a moment to yank out the blade, not looking pleased at having to use a melee weapon.

"I have an orc trapped by an ice wall by the tree line, but I think he's too weak and will drop soon," she states breathlessly as she reaches Groot's side. "Set him down gently and I'll tend to his leg." Above them, her animas swoops down to land nearby, beak poking at the dead orc bodies.

Groot casts the corpse aside like so much garbage but takes more care as he lowers his arm and Rocket along with it. He makes a low hum of concern but, after Rocket is placed in Christine's care, he stands back up and turns to deal with the last orc. The last orc, fortunately, has already slumped down into the snow by the ice wall.

Groot takes no chances and, on approach, he unwinds one of his arms and snares the Orc around the leg. It lurches awake, flailing madly for a moment, but Groot's vines are too hearty to be easily torn by wild movements or uncoordinated flailing. He drags the Orc through the snow and twists his vines around him, wrapping the struggling body like a spindle wrapped with thread.

He hoists the orc up and onto his shoulder and then turns back to look at Christine and Rocket.

"I am Groot."

Rocket acts quickly even with Christine close by, ripping the fabric from around his leg and using it to tie off above the wound. He's been injured enough to have picked up a few things. He watches Groot as his friend stomps off toward the orc, tensing for a moment, ready to shout, but Groot doesn't kill the orc and Rocket relaxes. Good. They'll get paid, at least.

"I think that went well." He remembers one of his cohorts from his days of stealing from the wealthy elites with a small band would say something like that after even the most botched of missions and Rocket would laugh and call him a moron. A slight pang tugs somewhere in his gut and he focuses on Christine and Groot instead. Missing ghosts doesn't help anyone.

"We caught an orc, we put a few more of them down, and no one died. Good job, team." He snorts even as he says it but he's grinning through the pain in his leg, leaning back on one of his hands, his other holding the fabric around his thigh fast.

Christine's lips purse in a way that's probably familiar to any who know her well. The action says that she doesn't approve, but she knows whatever she says won't make a difference anyway. It's given her early lines around her mouth.

"You two were injured," she states as she casts a healing spell on his leg. Such spells can be finicky, as no one can tell if an infection will form deep inside, but for the most part they tend to work. Her eyes flicker away towards Lylla before she lowers her voice for Rocket's ears.

"What happens when you are injured? Is she injured too, or does she experience only the pain of it?"

Meanwhile Azoth keeps poking at the bodies until she drags a trinket of a closed eye from the pocket of one of the orcs. Christine isn't paying attention at the moment, but if she did, she'd recognize it as the same type of trinket she already looted from an orc.

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Page 39 of 39

Event #1: The Big One

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Short thread but wrapping it up to move on into the next month.

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No prob!

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shamelessly borrows some shit from monster hunter

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