usir | Event #1: The Big One

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

[ His story was certainly one that was filled with far more detail than she expected. Elizabeth did want the truth, she wanted it more than anything. More than a bed, a stomach full of food — the satyr knew what the world was withholding from her and this man... he was kind enough to lift the veil.

Intently, she listens, eyes not daring to pry away. ]

Your creations... they're unlike anything I've seen in my entire life. Even on my travels, they look — my word, they're brilliant.

[ If his creations could do all he insists, she best damn compliment them for her own good. He flips the script on her, a bit of bashfulness creeps upon her face. ]

Only if needed. While my heart bleeds for those affected, there's only so much an unarmed satyr can do, you see. [ She's a bit naive, selfish to think she's best suited staying out of this mess. ] I've no medical training either... and now is not the time to teach.

[Elizabeth had no way to know that her attempt at a compliment would have the exact opposite effect. To Racter, it is empty flattery, and entirely unwelcome. And to think he was trying to be polite! No more of that. He remains smiling, but any mirth or good humor has been lost.]

Brilliant? They're garbage; barely functional compared to what I've built in the past. The wood is poor quality and roughly cut, the metal has not been tempered anywhere near to my satisfaction, the joints are too weak, and we won't even speak of the lack of any real weaponry. Not a single one has survived an encounter intact.

Yet they still do what is needed.

[His expression is a mockery of a teacher's patient gaze, his eyes begin to take a gold glint. She says wants the truth, she is so eager for it, and she shall have it. He simply no longer cares to present the convenient or pleasant one.]

Perfection does not exist. Do you think the medics will complain for an excess willing hands, trained or not? Or that arms are so difficult to come by? If you truly wanted to do something, you would be doing it, ability be damned.

If you are unable or unwilling to help, say so plainly. Admit it, and let the rest of us work. There is less shame in that than in excuses.

[ The sudden dip in atmosphere rips at the tension in the room. She's not unfamiliar with a typical mood swing from a man — her father was similarly hard on himself. Hard on not doing enough. She tenses up, a woman shrinking to a girl and it washes over her face in an obvious way. ]

It'd be wise of you to not... not speak down to me like I'm some babe fresh from the womb.

[ She regrets speaking out — immediately her teeth graze her bottom lip, but hey? She knows her quick defense was unable to be taken back. ]

While you see garbage, I learned long ago getting something done was better than starving yourself seeking perfection. They're serving a greater good! You have to see that.

[ But, maybe they won't function... yet, they're helping to get him closer to where he wants to be. Elizabeth crosses her arms defensively, her body language obvious when his words shifted. It's clear the words she just spoke reflect her too. She gives up because she can't fight or even aid someone properly. ]

Unless there's scrolls to be translated, my help is truly limited. Do you need assistance?

[Perhaps for someone kinder, Elizabeth's reaction would be a sign to calm down, to stop and rethink the situation. Instead, her fear grates at him. Is he to be stuck with this fearful little thing? And so he presses harder - she'll either find her spine or fold without it, and either will be preferable that this]

And what will you do to stop me? You are acting like a child, afraid of what an adult might say or think, speaking flattery to win them over and earn a sweet or avoid a lashing.

I am agreeing with you. There is no shame in something that is imperfect - it can still do the job well enough. [It is perhaps the only useful thing he learned from the temple's elders: even the flawed and broken has a place in the world. A cruel lesson for a child, when it was applied to you, but he had taken it to heart. Life is a perpetual seeking to grow and improve, to become something more than you were. He believes it of himself, and expects the same effort of anyone else. And so he will not give Elizabeth so easy an out.]

So why are you not taking your own advice, and getting something done, as you put it? You have hands, legs, a mind that can think and react. You can do more that translate scrolls if you truly care to do so.

[He sighs. He hasn't the energy to spend on continued anger, and so he pushes it back down to annoyance. There is still work to do before he can rest, and so he turns his attention back to removing the other prosthetic.]

I need no assistance that you can provide, not when you can't even defend yourself against words.

[And now, he idly wonders, to see if she will rise to the challenge.]

[ Despite the bite she has, she reels it back immediately. She bites her bottom lip to keep from any further spats to spill out. She... truthfully didn't want to bicker or come at odds - but there's some fight in her. ]

You don't know me or my intention! I just believe you...shouldn't slave over something and then... come off like that.

[ Yeah, that didn't last, the bite was there. There's a bit of truth to his words, how he frames the urgency of help and necessity. Those creations meant enough to him, not only for pride but enough to do good in this whole mess. If they could work effectively, it could do good. Elizabeth's creations were more ... lighthearted - his were more of a powerhouse.

His words were harsh and yes, she flinches like a child being scolded. She can't help it. ]

I spent my entire life uncovering words - some I knew, some I never knew. I don't need to defend myself against words, just... just uncover their roots and why they're brought to existence. [ Elizabeth isn't hotheaded, but she shows a bit of honesty in her eyes. ] I'm of limited use in the fields of battle and medicine, but I can support. Assist and help. I... know no one here. You're the only one I've had conversations with for more than five damn seconds. It's not abnormal to one to start helping in a way that feels... like it makes a difference. So you -

[ A directive finger point. ]

You will take that fact to heart, not brush it aside.

[He occasionally glances up at her again as she speaks, watching Elizabeth build her nerve. She still flinches (and he wonders how much more afraid she might be if she realized exactly what sort of creature she was talking to) but she's getting to something he might consider courage. By the time she has her finger in his face, she's earned his full attention.]

Better. I didn't give you enough credit, it seems. I won't make that mistake a second time. [A smile creeps onto his face, small but satisfied.] I particularly liked your use of damn at the end there - didn't think you capable of it.

It was — hey! Are you patronizing me..?!

[ Elizabeth was halfway ready to ease the tension in her room but the sudden slide of damn felt... disingenuous. The satyr tenses a bit, eyes carefully looking to see if there's any way to get the truth from him. ]

You're quite infuriating, you know that?

Event #1: The Big One

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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!