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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"Mmh?" Doug looks up from the bowl of soup he's currently holding to his lips. It's warm and delicious and he intends to gulp down every last drop of it. But he can be polite and put that on hold if someone needs his help.

He lowers the bowl and wipes any residual broth away on the sleeve of his tunic.

"I can try. Though if you're gonna ask about the details surrounding why any of us woke up I'm afraid I don't know any more than you do." He sees the same level of confusion written across just about everyone in this lodge, even those who do a good job of hiding it. There are always unspoken words behind the spoken ones. "I've never even been to Atrómitos."

He gives his yellow tunic a slight tug.

I have many ideas, none of them advisable.

[Stealing the comfrey? Stealing the entire stall? Setting the stall on fire? Setting the merchant on fire? So many wonderful options. All of them very much against common sense, as well as the law. Better to focus on what could actually be done.]

Which way, then? We'll want to be back in the city before nightfall, but we should have a little time to supply and plan the expedition.

[If the forest was even remotely dangerous, it was better to be prepared.]

[ He neither sees nor hears her, really. There's a ringing in James' ears: one that started once he pulled the corpse from the rubble, one that nearly drowns out everything else around him. It had never really hit him until now: the unanswered questions of what had happened after he'd died, how his efforts and his death might not have done anything at all, how his own home might have looked to the people who would have pulled them from their own ashes, too. ]

He's just a boy.

[ This time the anger fades. This time James' voice cracks, and his hands shake as he holds onto the body. It's a human, but his untidy dark hair isn't too different, and James is trying very hard not to look into his still-open eyes to see what color they might be.

He'd been in a war before. He's fought before. He's seen death before. Yet there's an unusual quell of panic rising in his stomach now that he's never before had to try to stop. James looks up at Ellie, red-eyed and dirty and clutching the body to his chest. ]

How many, [ he says, and his voice is thick with bitterness, ] will we be too late to save?

[ Well, James decides, that's true enough. He pulls the now-rotated notebook a few inches closer and stares at it, brow furrowed, as though there's more written there somewhere that he will find only if he squints for long enough. There's nothing, of course; and no answers jump at him from the words that are written, no sudden understanding from the jumbled thoughts that fail to clear themselves in his mind. ]

I have, [ he mutters, ] had a few personal run-ins on the matter.

[ Finally giving up on the notebook, James leans back in his chair and stares at Alucard instead. There's no information to glean from simply looking at the other man, either, but James isn't really seeing him; there's a heavy pause as he drags his fingers through his hair more than a few times over, leaving a crop of it sticking oddly up from his head. ]

I'd have had a guess as to who's responsible for this, but my guess doesn't add up with much else. I don't know know if much needs to compel a man to use forbidden magic except for the sick rush of power—[ James' disgusted voice says exactly what he thinks of that ]—but as far as I can tell I've not had sudden urges to join anyone's undead army—at least not yet—so it's the why of it I'd like to understand. There must be a reason. There must be someone behind it all.

Thalassa, originally.

( neither of them are particularly good at small-talk, it seems. perhaps he'd have been better suited remarking on the weather? )

But I lived in Krimnos for a time.

Your Krimnos and my Krimnos were very different.

[ She knows it just looking at him. He carries himself like someone of greater means. She knows because she knows whose pockets to pick when they fall on the battlefield and she knows that nobody who had come from her part of Krimnos would have given up any food they had, no matter how full they were. ]

I understand.

[Not truly, not in any meaningful way. Not in a way that is beyond I can understand why you've got strong opinions. But they're strangers and Alucard assumes that the politeness will be seen as just that.

His notebook and scant notes are dismissed. Alucard scoots the notebook back across the table to himself, keeping the page open in case a stray thought comes to mind.]

Those who work with forbidden magic may not only have power as a motive [his father's was a thing of anger and grief, all ending in vampirism because that's a healthy solution], but it is a common thing.

I believe there is a universal concern about the why. Especially as this world seems to have truly moved on.

[ Yeah, that's ... yeah. ]

Yes, but their timing is still horrible.

[ She taps the bottle against the table, frowning, before she corks it and stows it in the pocket of her cloak. ]

Doing this kind of magic during winter, we're lucky we didn't need to break through ice just to get up. [ As if they don't have enough stuff to deal with. ]

Yes, waking up from death only to drown in an icy grave would be rather pointless on everyone's part.

[Alucard's delivery is clipped and dry. Not quite funny but nearly there. It's also a show of displeasure at the entire situation, because what if the time of year is of real importance. What makes the winter season key?]

Once you have all your equipment available and working, how long do you expect results to take?

[ Well, if she were to be asked, there's a lot of reasons why. For one thing, the longest night is during winter and she's known many witches who used wild magic to channel such an event. ]

It doesn't take long, just a spell and then it should detect and reveal any residue of magic in the soil or air or whatever.

[ Though to be honest, this reeks so much of dark magic she wants to back away right there and then. ]

It's just that the things I need are a bit of a pain to find, especially since things seem to have changed since I've ... lived.

[ Truthfully James hadn't been thinking that far: he'd just wanted a quick ride on a magical earthen hand for the sake of it. But Strange seems to be up for it one way or another, and James isn't picky. Setting out fires with his wand from on top of that hand is a satisfying enough prospect. He's not going to make any complaints. ]

Brilliant. Just keep an eye out for any stray arrows. [ He grins again, then looks over his shoulder at a sudden thought. ] I wonder if....

[ The purpose of his turn in attention makes itself clear as a small (but no less stately) stag steps around the corner, movements careful and its flanks dark with sweat. It lifts its antlered head and stares solemnly at Strange. ]

I don't know if he'd rather stay above or below. Do we need to make a running jump onto it, or...?

[ James turns back and considers the hand. ]

Is it too bold of me to ask what you require?

[The question is asked very earnestly. Anything to help speed along some kind of an answer. Anything.]

At the very least, there must be one or two things easily acquired here.

[This a dhampir living in hope, admittedly.]

[ She can understand his need and desire to know. She's quite curious as well ]

A few of them are easy to find like salt, candles and a few herbs. [ Davina can acquire any of those by going to a market. ] But then I also need a moonstone and a white muskroot.

[ She bought the moonstone at an exorbitant rate from a traveling dwarf merchant. The white muskroot, she needed to dig it up from the forest outside of Thalassa on a night when the moon was waning.

Then again, she was quite desperate at the time. ]

Well, if you find any of those, just let me know.

Yes.

( she has no idea just how much, truthfully. his Krimnos had been a place of dark, shadowy corners. that first splash of copper on his tongue, peeling back the weight of a decade's worth of lies. freeing and terrifying by turns. )

I expect so. ( if she knew anything of his Krimnos, she would likely not have allowed his company. )

[Ellie doesn't know James, but she can guess that it's more than the child. It's what could have been with James' own son. Is this what Joel saw when Sam and Henry died? Her dead body choking on blood?

Ellie has to trust that Theseus will warn her if there's danger. She approaches slowly and crouches in front of James.

She's not good at being soft. When she's really grieving, she gets angry--punches things and breaks things and screams at the dead and needs something to do. She needs a goal, or she's going to lose her fucking mind. She's--sad about the kid, but she doesn't know him. She knows there's a life he's missing and she wishes there were something to do, but--there's not.

She doesn't have the energy to spare mourning for a child she never knew. If she did that for every dead person she's come across, she would die of grief herself.

Ellie still wants to mourn the people Joel insists on moving on from.

Joel. His name sends a jerk through her body. She--it's been a hundred years--

No. She's not going there right now. She can't, or she's going to start screaming and this isn't the time. It really isn't.

Ellie closes her eyes and takes a breath.]

I'm sorry.

[Ellie doesn't have an answer to his question. She's watched so many people die that she could do nothing for. Nothing, they're dead, and trying to help them will just hurt you, if it doesn't kill you.

She takes a small handkerchief out of her pack and wets it with some of the drinking water she was carrying. She meant to keep it for smoke, but it'll do here.

Carefully, waiting for James to snap at her to go away, she offers it to him.]

Do you want to clean him up, or should I?

[Ellie has seen the way people react to finding the bodies of their loved ones. She thinks it's worse when their wounds are obvious, their bodies mangled, their heads twisted at horrible angles.]

[ Daud's never had much cause to interact with satyrs in his line of work, and looking at this one now, he's vividly reminded of why. They're flighty, skittish things -- hardly the stuff assassins are made of, though he's known a few whose hands could be steady enough on a bow.

Worse yet, this one's young. Young means unpredictable, and Daud's not inclined to find out what else he she might throw at him, so he raises his hands -- one still holding the jar, the other empty, since his sword is still sheathed at his hip -- to show that he's unarmed. ]

I'm not here to kill you. [ He says, with as much forbearance as he can muster. ] But you aren't going to be safe staying here. They're driving the orcs out of the city. They'll likely retreat this way.

[ That makes two of them, then. Just imagine the chaos they could bring if they join forces—except said chaos is something that Davina's being trying so hard to avoid now that she's alive again. ]

To the north, I suppose. [ At least, that's what she's heard around. ] Past this market and a little further away.

[ Teddy stops only when the ground erupts in front of him. His chest heaving he holds his sword in a hand covered in blood that is not his own. His eyes are sharp and dark, dilated as he tilts his head toward the shouting.

His grip shifts and he drives the blade forcefully into the skull of an unbalanced orc without looking away from his unexpected ally, for the moment. ]

Isn't that the point of war? [ His voice is rough, the words chosen carefully and forced out with difficulty. He yanks the sword back, unsheathing it from bone with a sickening sound. ]

Better me than them. [ He gestures with the gruesome sword toward evacuating citizens before swinging the heavy blade toward another orc. ]

[ Teddy's head jerks up, eyes meeting Racter's with confusion reflected in them. Despite hearing the man approach he had not expected to be spoken to and was still adjusting to people noticing him. He had not been attempting to remain hidden here. He was too directionless to find his path. A lifetime of being invisible to most in either form had left him unsure of how to interact directly.

The small marmoset moves quickly, running up Teddy's arm and ducking into his hair, peeking out from between messy strands at the stranger. Teddy doesn't break eye contact when he speaks, his hand slowly moving to pick up the device and turn it between his fingers.]

You know something about this?

Teddy slowly backs up one step and then another, apprehensively observing the creature in front of him as it moves. When Groot's movements remain slow and non-threatening he moves forward again, leaning in to sniff at the flower and the living being holding it.

It's strange to smell a creature as earthy and reminiscent of the wild earth as this one, but Teddy adds the scent memory to his collection and tilts his head to one side, surveying Groot with curious, contemplative eyes. Then a shiver racks through his drenched body, reminding him of where they are.

He barks, just once and muted at the plant person, taking a few steps past it and looking back towards Groot, giving another slow and questioning wag of his tail. He repeats the action after a few more steps and then sits and waits. With this arboreon around perhaps they could both make it out of the marsh and he would not have to worry about becoming food for an alligator or some other hungry creature.

[His tail wags. Teddy is familiar with leaning into his roll as a relatively harmless stray. He eyes the feline warily but approaches the human at a slow gait, giving the impression of as non-threatening a dog as he could given his size and appearance.

When he gets within reach he sits before her, pawing at the air with one large paw. He lets his mouth hang open affecting a canine approximate of a grin.]

[ The woman makes sense where Elizabeth's ignorant optimism fails. There's a slight recoil at her bluntness, downcast eyes not focusing on her. ]

There's no harm, you know? If your shop is in ruin or forgotten with time... perhaps there's another realm where it's still standing. [ It's an odd thing to say, but her religion certainly attributes to theories of alternate universes and the creativity in making those stories. ] ...A-At the very least...

[Alucard's face doesn't fall at the words moonstone and white muskroot but the little exhale he lets sound does all the talking for him. Goddamnit.]

Mm, one requires money, the other labor in the cold. [Translation duh it isn't that easy, you idiot, what did you expect?]

The timing of this truly seems made to avoid further investigation.

"May the best man win," Strange responds. (What do you mean this isn't a competition, this is totally a competition.) He'll let Alucard leave: after all, he needs to get to work himself.

[ Elizabeth certainly remains on guard, ready at the helm in case anything escalates. Had she enough of a clear head, she would have instead found the nearest kitchen knife. Alas, times were too frantic.

His words fall to her and there's a mere inquisitive expression cast upon her features. Her heart pounds in her chest, but she's desperate to believe in something good. ]

Is it safe? [ It's not. She knows it. ] There's an inn that I'm staying at the opposite side of the city outskirts... I need to make it back.

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Page 9 of 39

Event #1: The Big One

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