event pt 2 | another dream

[moustre]

Event Log: June, A Midsummer Dream's Nightmare

THE STARS ABOVE You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the wind brushes playfully against your face - and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that. It is so very cold, and it is so very vast. Millions of stars stretch out across the still wasteland, the water unforgivably frigid to even those covered in fur; for those without, there's still a chill that expands in your chest as you turn and find absolutely nothing in the massive, shimmering lake. As you begin to walk, shapes shake out of the water; the ground rumbles with their rising, the outlines and shambles of buildings covered in stains and thorny plants. As more rise, inscrutable in their original purpose or shape, you begin to realize this is - or was - a city. You realize something else: you're not alone. Not the way you weren't alone in dreams before, with those who came through the mirror or who might later come through - but around you are the natives of Aefenglom itself, dressed thin rags and looking exceptionally confused. Almost immediately, the sky fills with red stars, and the voice of Nerissa Bell rings throughout the empty space: "Will all members of Parliament, the Guilds, those who have mastered and are mastering divination, and my Mhairi dearest please come to where the red stars fall? Thank the lot of you very much!" There's a beat, and she continues. "Everyone else, keep your wits about you, won't you? Take care of each other." She sounds a tad bit more serious than usual - and it's no wonder, given the circumstances. There's not much else to do though, and with this dream shared among all residents of the city... You might as well take a look around and see if there's anything to be found out, just like any other time. But be careful: Magic seems to be on the fritz, more liable to backfire regardless of one's experience with it - and the same goes for more magical traits of Monsters as well, such as water manipulation, illusions and charms, finding magic, dragon breaths, and etc.

I. THE CITY As you make your way into the city, navigating the wreckage of what once was, it becomes all the more apparent how overtaken it is. To call them ruins would be gracious; you walk in a tomb, now, atmosphere filled with all the gravitas and dread that comes with the stillness of one. And truly, it is still. There doesn't seem to be any other life, besides these new visitors, at least not as you begin to investigate, your companions approaching this with more trepidation. Because while it may take some exploration for arrivals to realize where they are, many natives know right away what this place is with a grief that's palpable: a. IT'S HOME The dawning realization is stark for everyone, as they find familiar cobblestone streets cracked, in disarray, dead and dying grasses and caked "oil" filling the cracks. These streets lead to just as familiar places: a bakery you've grown attached to since you arrived, a store that once carried knickknacks that was passed by every day, the Coven, the Haven itself. Perhaps now it's easier to understand what those inscrutable structures were, at the edges of the recognizable shapes of what had been buildings, once upon a time - after all, even those that are freshly minted as arrivals this Iuneril have spent enough time within the Bright Wall to surely be able to know this gate was once here, and that portion of the wall wrapped around the city there. What remains of the Wall is charred, broken, stained in an oil-like substance that still glistens at just the right angle, and overgrown in those thorny vines to the point that some sections must have been destroyed because the growth came from within. The track of the magitech engine that runs the city is uprooted, gnarled in places as if it were bent by large hands or crushed underfoot, the bridge and the engine itself collapsed into the canal of the River Temese. Even from the higher banks it's easy to tell the metal is rusted and corroded, but also charred like there was an explosion or fire; the inky murk of the river consumes the rest, and it's not recommended to try and brave the waters, given the unsettling feeling they give off. It's not unlike the sensation of the cave... Homes and businesses are destroyed, or in ruin, and it becomes clear that they met this fate in different ways. Burnt down, collapsing in upon themselves from the weight of neglect, overtaken by the thorny vines, covered in the inky black of what is fast becoming obvious as signs of the Cwyld... even the Haven has suffered these conditions. The barracks, once flush against the Wall, are completely destroyed and exist only as rubble now. One might find traces of themselves in what had become their homes in Aefenglom, if they look close enough. The natives certainly are, in their upset and confusion. b. ONLY REFLECTIONS LEFT All roads in Aefenglom lead to the Coven and Parliament, in the end. No walls remain around where the Coven once stood, and there's barely any rubble to indicate that they did. The gate that always stands open, as you know it, is nowhere to be seen - at least, initially. A glance around the entrance will show that it was likely blown off its hinges; it's embedded in the earth a dozen yards away into the city proper, gnarled, a monument in and of itself. Stepping into the scorched courtyard shows that the blast came from within the grounds itself, though it's hard to tell what the source might have been. The building itself is more or less completely caved in; the infirmary is in particularly bad shape, with the stairs leading to the ICU - the basement below the infirmary, where those heavily infected with the Cwyld are taken care of - are full of debris. The floor of the infirmary itself is largely collapsed into the floor below, blocking all means of access. None of the runes that are typically visible in the halls, across the ceiling, or along the floors are activated, and there's a distinct lack of the warm and homey magic that would always welcome one into the Coven. In its place is an oppressive stillness, smears of the Cwyld visible across the ruins, spilling out across the yard from the building itself. A garden once sprawling with ingredients and food is dead, and the stables and livestock pens lie in wreckage. There are no signs of the animals that many became familiar with. But amongst all the wreckage, the Looking-Glass House stands. The cabin is a little charred on the outside, wrapped in layers upon layers of the thorny vines that have woven their way through the city itself, but still intact. Getting inside is a challenge in and of itself, but not impossible, if one manages to avoid the thorns of a clearly infected plant. But the interior? Dusty, certainly, but not an ounce of damage. Mirrors are propped up against surfaces as always, hanging on the walls, and the building feels endless as always. Some of the mirrors are shattered as if something struck them, but not a single piece of glass touches the floor. The stillness is just as unnatural as that of the city itself, but different. While still eerie, there isn't a sense of dread, of oppressiveness, of being watched. It simply... is. c. BURNED AWAY TO ASH Taking the other route leads to what remains of the Parliament building. Much like the Coven, its floors have collapsed into itself - but the building has always been a tall one, so the collapse is even more stark, like all of the top floors fell into the underground records. No signs of the Cwyld are apparent, save for the infected vines sprawling here and there, but they seem more recent than anything else. Wood and stone are charred, to the point that it becomes clear with enough investigation that fire was the sole cause of its demise. The smell of smoke still lingers, with both ground and air around the wreckage feeling hot compared to the chill of the world around you, a fire still burning within the Parliamentary Records themselves. And if one moves the rubble enough - though care should be taken, as it's precarious, and further collapse is inevitable rather than preventable - smoke rises from cracks and openings. Even the clocktower wasn't spared, the broken face now in further wreckage, burnt with its metalwork hands locked to 3:00. The bell is nowhere to be seen; if it fell, it fell through the building and into the records beneath, lost to a fire that's still burning unseen beneath your feet. But if one listens closely, maybe they can still hear its ringing... But it becomes clear you're not truly alone, no matter where you go in the city. Forms pass through out of the corner of one's eye, there and gone when you turn to look too closely at them. Humans and Monsters alike in shape, but faceless, sometimes wisps of color, sometimes shadows in the shape of people. Regardless, they can be seen disappearing around the corner of an alley, walking by the broken window of a storefront that's been ransacked, coming and going when you least expect them. A whisper of a ghost. Some of these faceless shadows seem to be caught in the motions, reliving their day-to-day, the ones that they took the most. Others fade in and out of strange actions; fighting unseen foes, throwing equally unseen things at buildings just as much as what must have been people, running and running through the streets - and then, eventually, through you. Passing through these specters, these shadows of people, leaves a clammy chill on your skin that permeates to the bone. And then they're gone, and it's silent again. Nessie and Mhairi will be around for talk once they're through with the other leaders of the city- but we're only allowing for OOC summaries this time, rather than any IC threads! Their thread is here.

II. THE WASTE Turning from the city, you trek your way further into the waste. Walls continue to rise around you, but none block your path, and they get further and further apart as you continue. The dread within your chest builds the farther you go though, until it's a struggle to lift your feet - but at the same time, some strange momentum keeps your legs moving. The water slowly rises from ankle to knee height, to waist, to mid-chest... or for the small, it might be treading dangerously close to shoulders, to head. Eventually, something changes - whether due to your continued march ahead, or due to turning around to head back towards the city. a. THE STAIRWAY TO THE STARS As you continue on, the water level begins to lower again - or is that due to the stairs that appear without warning beneath your feet? Made of solid white quartz and seeming to float on their own, the air gets colder and harder to breathe as one makes their way upwards. Turning back once you begin isn't possible either: the stairs have disappeared behind you, dropping with a solid splash into the water below. Those able to fly feel an odd pressure that keeps them grounded, and attempts to do so will simply give them the same experience the stairs have: right into the murky sea, which is much deeper beneath the stairs. One good thing about this heavensbound stairway is this: it offers a good view of the waste, which seems to expand forever, as well as the blood red twilight peeking over the horizon - not to mention the distinct absence of the sister moons that share the sky. With a keen eye (or simply letting your vision adjust) shows shadows lifelessly milling about the waste and its air; they're harmless, but bring with them soft crying and pained whimpers, limping with obviously broken limbs. Those familiar with the Wilders and the Witches of the Coven will notice the one solid-seeming thing about them: the pins for their cloaks, the Coven's symbol barely being able to be made out. It'd seem the only way to get down is to fall, as the stairs simply continue up and up into the sky until one is completely unable to breathe or move, either due to gravity or due to ice coverage. b. THE LABYRINTH Attempting to turn around and head back to the city works, but not for long; where walls would stay from one's path, walking back yields the opposite. The walls slowly bunch together until finally, they surround you - with an ugly sound, a low ceiling slides on to complete the area, and without warning sconces light themselves. The water remains knee-deep, sloshing loudly in the utter silence as one moves through it. The labyrinth is long and winding, with some walls broken enough to enable stepping through them, and shadows cast long by the torches lighting the walls. Bones of unlucky explorers roll and rock underfoot, breaking easily with too much pressure. To put it lightly, it isn't a very happy place. The center of the labyrinth is completely dark, no sconces in the area lit - none with torches in them either, on closer inspection. No treasure is left to find here, though the source of the labyrinth's water is: a spring formed by a massive fissure in the ground, ever bubbling, so loud it's a wonder you hadn't heard it anywhere else in the stone maze. The culprit of it lay nearby, long dead: a Minotaur, or its massive skeleton, at the very least. Some of its bones are blackened, specifically its arms up to its elbows, legs up a little past its knees, and its right eye socket. The rest are a mix of normal yellowed and similarly infected grey, black-spotted bones. Touching the bones starts an infection on the character that did it, though it only covers the same spots found on the Minotaur's skeleton.

III. THE DEPTHS Going the way of what had once been the harbor shows an endless sea, nary a wave in sight in the absence of the Sisters. It reflects the red twilight of the sky, each and every of the millions of stars above you, almost glass-like in its stillness. But there's a call that the sea has, and once you've set sights on it, the urge to continue is powerful, hard to resist. Succumbing to that call has characters stepping off what remains of the harbor, walking along the beach, even jumping down, just to reach the water. But rather than sink immediately into it there's firm footing on what seems like ice, the chill seeping through raggedy clothes, skin, fur, feather, down to the very bone. It's sturdy enough to allow even the largest Monster to begin the journey forward into the depths, angled deeper and deeper, until it suddenly drops off and you're submerged without a foothold. It's there that clarity returns, and the fear of drowning might fill every sense. But you can breathe. You can speak. It is a dream, after all. a. THE SHIP GRAVEYARD All around you, at first, is the remains of the harbor. Everything is encased in coral and aquatic plantlife, but there's very little life otherwise. No fish, no dolphins. Nothing. The world is all the more silent beneath the waters, especially with their absence, and the skies above grow dimmer the deeper you go, but always there's the unmistakable red hue to everything below. Some of the plants provide paltry light, bioluminiscent and lighting the way to a grisly scene. Buildings that have fallen into the harbor's waters, the remains of docks, various dinghies and boats, all sunken and lost to the world above. A few ships are visible, their hulls blown out as if attacked, both from the inside and out. There's no treasure, if you're brave enough to explore them, but there is the black oil caked to the interiors just as much as the exteriors. The wood is charred, and it's easy to tell that these ships were sunk from within just as much as they were from outside attacks. But the further one goes into the depths, the truth is revealed: beyond, there lies a ship graveyard. With Litha in full swing, many of these ships may be familiar, having set off on their voyages for the season. Here they lie, in similar states of destruction as the ones in the harbor. Exploring them answers few questions, and raises greater mysteries; what had been supplies, weapons, magic tools and wares, all loaded into their cargo bays, as if they were setting off on a great journey. And it isn't just a graveyard for ships, either. Many of them have passengers, unidentifiable save for small trinkets here and there. The Coven's insignia, a badge of the Parliament, possessions that might speak of their professions. They're nothing but skeletons, now, man and beast alike loaded onto the ships and heading for a destination that's lost to them now. Ice forms along the hulls of some ships and the wreckage beneath, pathways woven throughout the underwater world. They're walkable, allowing characters a choice between swimming, dreamily floating, or walking as they traverse the depths. b. WHAT LIES IN DEPTHS Beyond the graveyard come soft cries, which could almost be mistaken for a whale song if they weren't so... so sad. Following the call, though one won't be compelled to through magical means, reveals the source: various dark shapes in the gloom beneath the water, shadows, listless and drifting. They swim without much purpose, and come in a variety of aquatic shapes. Some could be mistaken for the missing marine life, for Merrow, but their dimly glowing white eyes tells of something worse. There are very few of them, and they don't seem to register the presence of anyone around them. An explanation, perhaps, for their numbers comes as the red of the distant sky above is blocked out by a great shape. A veritable Leviathan drifts with an almost laziness through the open waters of the ocean that you've reached, greater in size than any ship in the graveyard. Its hide is marred from fights long since forgotten, but mottled in oily black, smudged grey, its algae, coral, white cracks in the black illuminating the waters around it. Its plated head moves to and fro, massive flippers disrupting the patterns of the creatures around it without notice.

Welcome to the second part of the event! As a reminder, this takes place on the 22nd - or rather, 3AM on the 23rd if we're being technical and not following the logic of "It's not tomorrow until I sleep". If you have any questions or need any clarifications, you can ask them here! And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere. Regardless of what you choose, we hope you have a good time!

And as a final parting note: If a character dies in the dream, they'll simply reappear at the beginning rather than waking up like normal.

Comments

Newt Scamander | OTA

[newtralize]

I. The City
A
[Newt is already off and wandering around the now fallen city. He had wandered the city often to learn the layout and everything about it. While he had no particular attachments to the city; it was somewhat easy of him to recognize it with how he kept not of any minor attention to detail tucked away in his memories.

The magizoologist can be found all around the city. Perhaps you see him following the uprooted track. Or maybe he's at the edge of the river and crouched near it as he seemingly observes the murky waters.

Alternatively, the man spends quite a bit of time at the barracks. Or at the very least, what might be left of it. It's odd though. Newt is just standing there. His shoulders droop and the man's body very much reads of someone who has also been hit with saddened feelings. What they're seeing is quite disastrous indeed, but there's more to it.

In front of Newt is very large skeletal remains. The remains are as large as an elephant's but bare no resemblance to that of one. They're more catlike if anything. If one is familiar with Newt and a few of his companions, then one may figure out that the large, black-spotted remains are that of the large zouwu that had been in his care.

The man just stands there for a moment, rubbing at his eyes once in awhile.]

B
[The wreckage of the Parliament building is very eerie indeed. The way that it feels so warm in comparison to everywhere else is peculiar. Newt is carefully trying to move pieces of the wreckage. Sometimes dropping piece or pulling his hands away when he comes upon pieces that are particularly hot.

The man yelps a little and staggers back when areas collapse and smoke rises from those spots.] Merlin, it's still going... [While he has seen flames that last longer than possible (magic and all); something about it just doesn't feel right. Perhaps because all of this doesn't feel right.]

C
[Ghosts are very different beings from where Newt is from. Ghosts can only be wizards and witches and exists as beings who have left an imprint of themselves, as they struggle to move on for whatever reason. They're not particularly eerie and can even be conversed with. He had spoken at length with many of the ghosts that had resided in Hogwarts.

This was very much nothing like that. It was eerie and unsettling. The fact that different scenes were replaying all at once made everything feel disjointed. The mix of those just doing their day-to-day as though it were an average day with more worrisome actions paints a very somber picture.] It's very chaotic. Isn't it?

II. The Waste
[Newt wanders through the labyrinth in a quickened pace. It's not at all like when being chased by a monster or even wandering aimlessly during the festivities. It's too somber. Too heavy. The feeling the fills the air.

Once in the center, he's already wandering close by the skeletal remains of the minotaur. He walks around it a multitude of times and crouches very close to examine them. The way he points his index finger and seems to trace shapes or follow the length of bones is telling enough that he was carefully observing every part of it.

That, and he seemingly was trying to figure out what it was exactly.]

III. The Depths
[While Newt has certainly went to try and examine some of the wreckage, something catches his attention instead. It's the sad cries that pulls him away from the graveyard and has him trying to find the source of the wails instead.

He means to try and interact with the smaller creatures, but pause when he sets eyes on the large leviathan that swims by.

No amount of trying to garner its attention or interact with it seems to merit anything. The large beast seems to just continue to swim on.] They've still got their wits about them, that one... [He watches it carefully.] Despite the infection.

IV. Wildcard
[I'm happy to play out any part of the event! If none of these options work, feel free to leave me a starter of your own! I'm also more than happy to write something out for you. Feel free to PM me or contact me on plurk if you'd like to hash something else out!]

III

[oceanschild]

[Paris is, of course, in the water, and he's also watching the leviathan. He looks very concerned, but it's actually not for their safety.]

It has so many injuries.... d-do you think we could help it...?

[newtralize]

[He watches the creature to continue to swim about. He had tried once or twice to get its attention and interact with it, but to no avail.]

It's too large. I don't have the magic capacity nor the experience with this magic to make even a proper dent in healing it. [He doesn't know if it matters either. While it felt real and everyone seemed to be sharing this dream together; would anything they do really mean anything outside of this dreamscape?]

[oceanschild]

[Paris hums, equal parts thoughtful and worried.] I-Is it something more witches together could help with...? [He can't do much, being a monster.]

[newtralize]

Unlikely. Most of us hadn't been here for even two months and those that recently arrived hadn't even been here a month. [Newt was someone who helped who and what he could if possible, but he also was honest.] I simply don't think we have the skill and personnel for it.

It would be unfair to ask the natives to do something so taxing given what became of their home.

[oceanschild]

W-well, what kind of magic would it take? [It can't be that crazy... can it?

His second point just confuses Paris further, his brow crinkling.] What do you mean...?

[newtralize]

I find restorative magic to be the most exhausting. Magic requires an exchange of some kind. Most of the time, it merely requires energy. To do a spell would mean expending some energy to perform it. A creature this size would surely exhaust everyone. [Newt doesn't even know what they could really do. This was a dream of some kind.]

The natives here just found themselves in a their home utterly destroyed. A dream or not, it's a harrowing situation. I can't imagine them wanting to brave the waters and to expend energy on this creature when there's still so much mystery shrouding what had become of the city here.

Even if we were capable to heal it completely, our efforts would be in vain as this is a dream. The creature may exist in the waters, but our efforts here would do little to assuage whatever ails this beast in reality. It's easy to forget this is a dream when it feels so terribly real.

[oceanschild]

[Paris deflates a little, but... he understands. He doesn't like it, but he understands. ...And he might just try to find it when they're back home to prevent this from happening.

But for Newt, he just nods.] I... I guess so. I just wish there was something we could do to help.

I-A

[thisisamazing]

[When Hiccup comes up to his side, quiet and somber, he's clutching a scrap of red leather in his hand that once bore the white, horned skull of a dragon's prosthetic tailfin. His gaze sweeps over the bones with numb, icy horror dragging through his veins. He's familiar enough with creatures - and with Newt's specifically - to recognize them for what they are, and it's one more twisted detail to add to a whole host of them. There is something hollow in his chest, and his breath catches, and his words die in his throat and coat his mouth in ashes.

It seems like an age before he swallows down the hurt, hard, and says, quiet but determined,] Whatever this is, we have to make sure it never happens for real.

[newtralize]

[Newt lets out a steady breath, or as steady of one he can make at the moment. Animals in his care don't always make it. He has rescued and took in many that had short-lived lives. It certainly doesn't make it any easier and the state of the city itself paints a horrid scene.

He rubs at his face before he turns to the other.] This cannot become a reality, yes. [He shakes his head a little before turning his attention to the barracks. Does he want to potentially go through the barracks and find more?] Even if this might be a dream, we can't say that this can't happen.

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup reaches out, touches Newt's arm. It's a gesture of empathy and understanding; he knows what it's like, how badly it hurts. Toothless was the first being he looked for, and Toothless is the most conspicuous one he hasn't found. He hasn't seen any animals, truthfully, and that's worrying.] Maybe there are clues to what happened. If we can find out how this all began in the dream, maybe we can keep it from happening in the real world.

All this destruction has to have a- a center point.

[newtralize]

[Newt so desperately wants to find Pickett, but he also can only assume what Pickett's fate must have been. He may scold his small companion for being too attached at times, but it would be a lie if Newt didn't have some attachment to his lock picking friend.] Best we investigate and see what we can parse. While I'm sure infection has its hand in this, there has to be more than just that to cause some of the destruction I've seen.

[Although, perhaps the Cwyld could have easily what had infected the entire town into a frenzy and its eventual destruction. If that were the case, how did the infection hit so strongly.

There's a lot of questions and only more seem to come up than be answered.] I don't think we'll find any answers here. The Coven or Parliament or where the city was denser with population is probably a good place to start. Somewhere with a lot of bustle by the inhabitants.

[thisisamazing]

Right. [Something bigger happened than just infection creeping into the city. From what Hiccup's seen, it doesn't spread quite this fast - unless this dream takes place some time in the future, he supposes.] We should start with the Coven. If this was anything magical, it might have started there. It's- possible that the infection came after the destruction.

[newtralize]

[Newt looks back at the deserted barracks and the skeletal remains of his beloved creature before forcing himself to turn away from the scene.]

Let's go. There's nothing left here. [The words come out almost painful.] If there's anything we can find out about what became of this place, the higher chance we can prevent this tragedy.

[Newt briskly starts walking away, not wanting to linger too much longer.] I wonder if if was simultaneous. Widespread panic with the infection spreading to an unmanageable level. Perhaps it didn't hit the city fully, but it was impeding.

[thisisamazing]

[Hiccup stands at his side, close but not quite touching, wishing he could be more comfort than this. He doesn't have much to offer, though, with his own companion missing, the only sign of him a single scrap of red leather from his tail-fin.]

Right. This cannot be allowed to happen. [It's too much death and too much destruction. And selfishly, he can't lose Toothless. When Newt starts to walk away, Hiccup goes with him, keeping pace, brisk and determined.] Is there a spell we could do? To find out? To- to see an image of what happened to start this? [Hiccup's divination is sadly lacking but he's grasping at straws here.]

[newtralize]

[Newt has to keep reminding himself that this was a dream for now. He'll wake up and his creatures will be there, safe and sound. A future that can be prevented. That's what was important to take in. To keep in mind that this has yet to be.]

I don't know. Divination was a branch of magic I never really invested in. It was also a branch of magic that was particular and not everyone was gifted with it. [Even then, he imagines that the native witches will probably do better to try than them.] We can ask Nessie later. The more skilled witches might be able to parse something. [And if they can't, it's unlikely they could.]

[thisisamazing]

[His expression falls into something like frustration at that. Really, he shouldn't be surprised. He's sat in on one or two divination classes, and they both seemed like a load of nonsense.] Gods damn it, this is- [Terrible. He wants to do something, but he doesn't know what they can do.]

I hate not knowing. What to do, or where to look.