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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Rocket looks up from polishing his new ax, reaching out to grab the tankard and inspect its contents. Seemingly satisfied he drinks and settles the blade of the over-sized weapon against the wood of the tavern table. Beside him Lylla is sleeping off her injury, apparently not all that bothered by the harrowing adventures she had experienced so early into her existence. Not unlike her namesake as it turns out.]

When you're like me you learn to find weapons that do some of the work for you. [He matches the man's toast and lifts the ax enough to let it thud back into the wood.]

Gravity's a bitch but with this beauty, it'll be my bitch.

( swiping a hand across his mouth, he huffs out a laugh, deciding he might like this strange creature and his unapologetic love of violence. )

I doubt anyone will give you much trouble with that. ( except, perhaps, to remark upon the absurdity of an axe quite that big. ) Even Orcs will think twice.

They should. Ain't no one who fights like me. [Rocket believes that. His style is vicious and clever, mixing melee with ranged and explosives and a lot of fury. Sure, others fought like him, but no one his size and species ever dared to do the things he knew he could do. He was a dangerous force.]

So what's next? You look like a guy out for blood. Plannin' on going after more of em?

( "out for blood" is certainly one way of looking at it. truthfully, it's curiosity more than anything else that has left him debating whether or not it's worth pursuing the matter further. )

They're offering a generous bounty. ( and in his experience having coin is better than doing without, particularly now, given his circumstances. )

I know you're capable of killing well enough. What about subduing suicidal orcs like that oaf you tried interrogatin? [Rocket slides a claw along the sharp blade of the ax and gives Ren a sidelong appraising glance, his head listing to one side slightly and angled up. Humans were so damnedly tall, and this one was no exception, if anything more so than some and built like a tree. He'd be a good resource in further fights against the orcs and someone Rocket already knew to be reliably unflinching when it came to violence.]

I've got a few aces up my sleeve, but they won't do me much good when it comes to relocatin' my quarry. Need them on two feet if I do it on my own and most of my tricks'll have em on their backs in the dirt.

You look like you could pull your own weight and then some. [He raises his mug with a wink and drinks down the fiery brew offered by his potential cohort.]

I do what's necessary. ( but, yes, Rocket's managed to size him up rather well considering.

perhaps he'd gotten a little more enthusiastic than strictly necessary, but he'd had neither the time nor the patience to tease the answers from the orc. perhaps with more time he'd have learned more. )

You have a plan, then?

I might. If I tell you, are you gonna help me?

[He's not giving away the tricks of his trade for free, stilts for legs.]

( 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. )

Don't make it weird.

[But his sharp teeth are showing in a pleased grin all the same. They can make a good team. This guy doesn't hold back and from what Rocket knows of him, which admittedly isn't much but he's strong and morally ambiguous. That's plenty.]

Alright then, but listen up because I don't like repeating myself. I've got an old recipe, it's strong enough to drop an elephant for a few hours and easy to undo with a splash of cold water but not much else. Tip a few bolts for my crossbow with it and all it will take is one sure shot. [He slips a bolt from the collection strapped to his chest and turns it around in his hands, glancing up at his potential new partner and giving the weapon a little wave.]

I almost never miss, so I'm not worried about that but those orcs dwarf me by at least double in size and triple in weight if you hadn't noticed. I can take them down fine but then I'd be stuck sitting on them waiting for someone to come along and pay me. Not very efficient and not great odds when these guys seem to travel in groups. I can make one, maybe two bolts worth of it and that's all I've got. The ingredients are [He gives a shrug, tucking the bolt back and holding his arms out in a 'what can you do' gesture.]

Well, they ain't easy to get ahold of. I got lucky, but usually, you can only find this stuff if you know the right folks and places. [He waits to see if Ren catches the grip, his arms crossed again. Black market dealings still weren't strictly legal and some of the stuff he had needed was teetering on that dangerous edge between black market and straight up forbidden magic. ]

The Market might have something.

( if not something then a line on someone that did. it was all about knowing where to look or who to ask.

it's a pity he isn't half as familiar with this place as Krimnos. he taps the tabletop, thinking. )

Or the temples.

( there's bound to be a temple of Anasta somewhere. )

Sounds like we have somewhere to be then.

[Rocket throws back the last drops of the free drink and rests the ax handle against his shoulder.]

Are you in, Stilts?

( a nod. )

Yes. ( doing something ㅡ anything ㅡ is preferable than sitting around, doing nothing. and while the orc camp is unlikely to hold the answers he needs ㅡ truthfully, he has no idea where to even begin his search there, his investigations of the battlefield not offering much in the way of insight when he had made the second journey with Rey ㅡ there will still be answers to be found.

he drains his drink, setting the tankard down on the table and then pushes to his feet. )

The Markets first, I think. ( doubtless they are still in a state of chaos and perhaps that will work in their favor. raiding a temple, any temple, will be a far more delicate task. )

[Rocket heads for the door with a pleased grin on his face, wasting no time in heading out and in the direction of the markets. For as short as he is he walks with the swagger of confidence that anything that tries to mess with him is going to have a bad time.

Lylla follows, dancing through the legs of other citizens and narrowly avoiding tripping people as she darts from place to place, curiously inspecting everything new or interesting. By the time they get to the markets Rocket has a new coin purse and Lylla is munching on a stolen river crustacean, shell and all.]

Keep an eye out for one with lots of jars or baskets you can't see in. Those places always have the best stuff.

( 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.

[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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Event #1: The Big One

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shamelessly borrows some shit from monster hunter