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Event #1: The Big One
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| 🜙 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: It is within your grasp now. You need only to claim what is yours. Hold strong and show no fear. -Epithymetikon Devotion: Your sacrifices will not be forgotten. Your efforts will not be in vain. Your soul will follow where your heart leads it. -Thymoeides Reason: 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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elizabeth | ota
You can find Elizabeth:
a. outside of her assigned room when she first arrives.
b. out hanging clothes on the wires in the back of the inn to earn her keep.
c. sitting around polishing the mud and dirt off the Siphon.
d. asking anyone about Atrómitos and its downfall. ]
CITY UNDER SIEGE
[ Elizabeth had found herself holed away in one of the smaller inns on the outskirts of the city. She's seen orcs and their torches march past the inn, a direct course to the city resting onward beyond them. There was rustling downstairs — a few screams and grunts. Had she any idea, she would have assumed the poor barmaiden had undoubtedly lost her life or the small congregation of wisemen she's met been slain. Elizabeth was a wise satyr, barricading herself in one of the store rooms in the kitchen.
That was smart, until she had no way out. The door had already opened and instead — you, or some orc depending — opens the door to it. Elizabeth's cry out was the only warning before jars of canned fruit and her own bag was sent flying to your head. Sorry, she's not going down without a fight. ]
IT BURNS, IT YEARNS
[ A bold voice for such a meek girl. The sun was a distant memory and the darkness of cover provided the inn Elizabeth first found herself a resident of as a hot spot for some questionable activities. After all was said and done, there was a small gathering of bounty hunters keen on setting out for the first orc they could fine. They had their figurative pitchforks and torches ready. Ah, actually the group was armed and ready to bring the "beast" back. Elizabeth had only come in to help serve selflessly with a hot meal to earn her own keep — and yet, here they were... trying to come up with a poor idea.
Her little satyr hooves could only take her so far as she weaves between the people, speaking up louder: ]
They still have more than you all on their side and you wish to charge in waving your swords? You — you can't simply expect to succeed with this foolish, headstrong idea!
WILDCARD
{ x marks the spot; c }
That's an interesting looking thing. What exactly is it?
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She tenses up when she hears another voice, her digits growing tight around the sphere. The face was familiar and concern eases just slightly. The poor girl was still spooked after this whole... mess. ]
This...old trinket? [ She shouldn't have brought it out, not when she had been hunted in the past for it. Suspiciously, she tucks it away half behind her. ] An old family heirloom.
[ Wry with her smile, she tries to at least prolong the lie. ]
Something that came with me, it seems.
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It's good you have a piece like that to hold onto. I don't have anything.
[ There's a pause that feels uncomfortable to her, as her words seem to suggest she wants pity and she really didn't mean such a thing. ]
I had a shop. Well, part alchemy shop, part clinic. I'm sure it's long gone now, but I wonder what happened to all my things.
[ They were just things — just possessions that could be replaced — but they were hers and after she died someone must have come along and pulled them all out. And then threw them away or sold them. ]
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[ She says that as if she may truly believe it. It spurs her onward to at least have a reason for how this happened. ]
I'm...sorry. [ She makes sure to follow up. Elizabeth's brows knit down, truly showing remorse. ]
...It could still be there. Perhaps not in the prime condition you left it in, but... you must have some faith in the unknown.
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Divided - Wildcard!
He'd lost a golem - an early casualty, though he hadn't abandoned it until the pieces were too small to even consider scraps. One of his legs was locked at an odd angle and possible broken - it had been damaged when he was too slow to dodge and not for the first time he was glad to have wood and metal instead of flesh and bone. He was bleeding from somewhere, he could smell it and feel the damp seeping into his now tattered coat.
So much to repair and replace and he had no idea if he would get any sleep tonight.
And yet, it had been a productive night! Several orcs dead, though none captured, and the city believed itself a little safer. He'd built a bit of goodwill with the city guard, earned a little coin. More importantly, he had new improvements in mind for his remaining golems after seeing how they fared in actual battle.
He finds a spot on the bed that isn't covered in tools and sits gently down. The prosthetic will have to be first, he can't do much else with it in this condition, but it seems impossible to do quietly. Rolling up the pant leg was simple enough, but the buckles jingle cheerfully while he fumbles with the straps.
He can't help it - he laughs at the absurdity of it all, hoping the poor girl sharing the room is a deep sleeper.]
Perhaps this is a sign that it can wait until morning.
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Certainly, if the time came, she'd abandon this inn with no sense of loyalty. Fueled by fear and the need to survive, you know. Her loyalties were less established.
The hectic rush of people lead the inn to be packed and sometimes... life stuffs you against odds that you may not like. Elizabeth was a lonely person and truthfully felt she was better suited traveling alone. Now — here comes someone that was... well, a stranger.
She had not fell asleep or given into her own curiosities, instead she's on her bed with legs crossed and a sketchbook in her lap. Her eyes flick up, a bit more timid than she hoped to give up. ]
... It's your leg. [ Elizabeth stresses. ] You think it's easy to wait?
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But he could afford to be conversational, at least.]
It wouldn't be comfortable, certainly, but it isn't as though it could get much worse overnight.
[She does have a point, though, and so he continues struggling with the straps. He finally manages to undo the buckles and starts unlacing next. Redesigning the socket would have to be a priority on the next iteration - if there were going to be more nights like this, he'd need to be able to remove the prosthetics more easily.
Finally, he's able to slip it off, and he examines the knee joint with a frown.]
Worse that I thought, but not beyond repair. Could you pass me that hammer? Should have grabbed it before I sat down.
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Here, at the very least, you shouldn't ignore it — [ She is quick to set her book aside, up before he even asks. Whether he attempts to repair his own issues or not, she is at least going to help clear some of the mess. Elizabeth tenses up at the question of the hammer — eyes frantic as she snaps her gaze around to try and find it. ] — errrr...
[ And there it is! The hammer is handed off, eyes not rude or trailing to any part of his body. She's seen much worse in her life at the temple, after all. ]
Is there anything I can do? Short of cleaning your messes.
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And it was going so well...
oh noooooo
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i'm so sorry for the delay!!! if you want to do more current things, let me know!
X Marks the Spot D
His animas, well, if lizards could scowl this one was and sulking irritably on his shoulder. Jaime and Khaji Da did not get along great, not yet. He kept trying to shake the reptile or leave it behind and no matter what he tried it insistently and persistently found its way back to his shoulder to make angry chirp-hiss noises at him and flick its tail painfully against Jaime's back, head, or face.
He was in the middle of trying to head back for his room when he overheard another inn resident he had seen in passing a few times asking questions about the city. As the person she questioned turned away he came up near her, leaning a little to one side to get the satyr's attention.]
I have a book on that, I think. If you want to have a look at it.
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Songbird had found itself perched on the top of the lantern hanging in the hallway, an ever-watchful eye on the young satyr. Had she enough cruelty, she'd surely kill the thing with how annoying it had become in such a short amount of time.
Her questions were rebuffed with smart comments and a few helpful ones — though those were a rarity. The collapse of the economic side was certainly not one that answered her questions... so she finds herself still in need of assistance.
Elizabeth's irritable, eyerolling in a pouty way when Jaime approaches with more of a kind nature than the tired patrons of the inn.
He's met with a burst of glee. ]
Have you?! I swear, these travelers act as if they've never seen a tome in their entire life!
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Do you want to go somewhere quieter? They seem to get rowdy this time of day. [The more open areas were not really good places for reading or researching. Even as he asks he offers out the book to her. He had spent half the day doing errands and repairs to earn enough silver to get it, but Jaime didn't like passing by people who needed help he could offer.]
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Oh — er. [ His thought was solid and she seems a bit eccentric as she snaps her gaze back and forth. Settling on the door leading out — it's clear the bustling nature and sanctuary the inn provides could be too much. However... ]
There's a quiet spot in the barn behind here. So long as you can stomach the smell of pig slop and hay.
[ oops. ]
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city under siege
After? Well, she just raises her eyebrows at Elizabeth. ]
You done or should I expect pots, pans, and the sink?
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The assassin certainly dodged her ill-aimed attempts but not seeing a bestial figure on the receiving end of her assault barely eases her nerves.
Back to the wall, hand clutching her shoulder bag defensively — she raises a broom with it pointed defensively to the stranger. ]
Don't mock me! Those hellish savages ransacked the entire area. [ Her tone was of an offended hiss. ] They've taken the inn — are they...
[ Dead. She trails off. ]
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[ ...which is what she's planning on finishing but Elizabeth doesn't need to know that. ]
Do you know if anyone else made it out of sight before they stormed the place?
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And your reasoning for that? Is this your inn?
[ Observant but also incredibly naive. :/ ]
I can't be for certain. I don't know anyone here — I was delivering eggs and flour from another inn. One... that I hope is still standing.
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sorry for the delay! holidays kicked by ass
not a problem, they kicked my ass too
yearns and burns
[Mòrag knows how to present herself in these situations -- eyes closed, head slightly bowed, hands folded behind her back in a military at-ease posture. That more than anything gives her words weight, the air of professionalism and experience one she'd cultivated quite deliberately.]
Absent superior power, the orcs will doubtless inflict more damage on you than you are prepared to absorb, particularly given your disorganized nature.
[Her eyes flick open then, and she regards the satyr from beneath the grate-like bill of her cap. What was the girl's investment in this, she wonders?]
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R-Right! If you don't listen to reason, listen to eloquence!
[ Her words stammer, not cluing in on the intimidating glare — Elizabeth's vision was focused on the unruly group still hyped up on their own horrid plan. ]
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[To which Mòrag lifts her head slightly. With no more ceremony than that, a narrow wall of bright blue flame erupts behind her, casting her into silhouette as she stares them down.]
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Elizabeth wasn't going to make her presence as a complication in anyone's plan. She merely... thought this entire ordeal was stupid and with lives on the line? She'd speak as such. The suddenness of Mòrag's power makes the satyr scramble back — Elizabeth can't offer much more except for a wide-eyed wonder. ]
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under siege; let me know if this works!
The orcs have already come through here, and the staff has fled or been killed. It's an unpleasant sight. He'll still do what he's been tasked, methodically searching every room. When he opens the kitchen door, though, it's to a jar chucked at his head.
Overall, Daud's seen better throws: without flinching, the tiefling reaches up to catch it before it can shatter at the floor, looking at the satyr that's thrown it with an unimpressed look. ]
Peach compote isn't much of a weapon.
it's perfect!
Elizabeth for the better part of an hour stayed silent and still — believing herself to be in a different place and time. Hoping that each breath she took didn't give her away. A satyr was a poor fighter, it was their nature to forge alliances and sway favor with charisma and charm. But, orcs? She's uneducated on their race except for unkind, brutish stereotypes scribbled in temple scrolls.
So, she's fearful, hoping that each step would lead away from the kitchen — food and the pantry closet.
Of course, fate was not as kind as she'd hope. The lamb was left dropping the second jar she planned to hurl when the tiefling catches flawlessly. ]
Stay back! [ Peaches or not — she's still on that fright high. ] I'll, I'll —
[ She'll think of something, no big deal. She has no time to question why someone like him would even be a threat when the orcs are the problem. ]
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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.
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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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sorry for the slow tag speed - work's been nuts!
no worries at all
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let me know if i need to edit anything here; not sure she has powers that would interfere!
IT JUST CLICKED WITH ME THAT THEY BOTH TELEPORT.... i'm dying
LMAO YES ... translating canon powers to AU powers like BIG SH R U G
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