Event Log: September, The Price of Revolution p1

[faileas]

Event Log: September, The Price of Revolution Part 1

I. The Freedom Festivities Behind the fortress-like walls of Dorchacht, what was once a gloomy, imposing city is lit up for the festivities to come. Septeril brings with it many mixed emotions for the citizens of what used to be called The Black City, though the overwhelming atmosphere is positive - this is a celebration of freedom hard-earned and prosperity hard-fought-for. The triple stars of the Resistance, now the current reigning party, feature heavily in decorations and in clothing: in pins, on hats, golden stars enchanted into fabric to dance merrily across skirts and cloaks. Stars light up the streets in decorative strings hung from lamppost to lamppost, flickering gently over the cobblestones. Mirrors, as well, feature into the decor, tiny round ones hung in multitudes from awnings and in windows like ornaments, catching the light and playing it across the otherwise-utilitarian architecture, lending it a sort of understated beauty. Much of Dorchacht has been rebuilt and repurposed by necessity since the uprising last year, and many new small businesses and restaurants are being featured at the festival - their goods or their foods on display in markets of street-side stalls or on the feast tables. Local handmade wares and crafts are out for sale for modest prices, and every sale helps out both the small business, many of which are started by former slaves, and helps the local economy, which is better these days but still recovering. The festivities go for six days, almost a full week, with feasting and bonfires every evening, and tours and tales of the city by day, as they display the changes for the better they have all made. And then, on the final evening, all are invited to watch a grand fireworks show that will be put on in the skies over Dorchacht, presided over by the Circle of Three themselves. Mirrorbound are welcomed warmly, whether they were present last year or not, and treated much like family - get ready to be pulled into activities and plied with food left and right. a. Join the Fun The children of Dorchacht are out by the dozens during the festivities, excited by all the freely-offered, special sweet treats and the magical sparklers and poppers being handed out by the fistful. The poppers explode when thrown to the ground in bursts of bright colors, completely harmless, and the sparklers are enchanted not to burn little (or big) hands if mishandled. Mirrorbound passing through may find themselves roped into elaborate pretend games of revolution by eager faces: the children name themselves either Resistance members or Mirrorbound, and 'do battle' with their magic fireworks against scarecrow-like constructions cloaked in dark bed sheets as 'the bad guys'. Depending on one's perspective, it may seem dark, but this is what these children have known very recently in their lives, and their caretakers or parents (there are more of the former than the latter, especially for the young Monsters) let them play as they will. If asked, they'll just explain that some of those kids even remember the fighting when it happened; this is just another way that they try to understand how the city has changed. More organized, family-friendly reenactment performances are also common, with several of the orphanage groups putting on small plays about the uprising, or moral plays about kindness and togetherness between Witches and Monsters. This includes a prominent set of performances by the Mirrored Hearts Home for Children - maybe you're helping out with their sets or costumes, or maybe you assisted with their scripts and songs. Those Mirrorbound volunteers will want to see the kids do well, right? They'll be heartbroken if you don't show. Of course, kids aren't the only ones doing reenactments. The newly formed Dorchacht Historical Society, dedicated to protecting Dorchacht's history going forward, puts on several - and may drag in passers-by to play different roles! Only the luckiest are begged to play the role of The Dragon, who valiantly rose up against their cruel former master, Morgana, and helped lead Dorchacht to where they are today. b. Forget-Me-Not While the overall air is celebratory, among the adults who are old enough to understand just what was lost as well as gained, there is an undercurrent of sombre remembrance. Many visit the burned-out Old Coven, left as damaged as it was when the fighting ceased, as a monument to how freedom fighters suffered and fought. Plaques dot the grounds and buildings there seemingly at random, until you realize that each metal plate bearing names is laid where someone died. To decorate these plaques, and homes and businesses as well, there are tables set up in the yard of the New Coven, heavy with a rainbow of small magical flowers called Forget-Me-Nots, and the supplies to make remembrance wreaths. In this new tradition, the flowers are chosen with a dead, missing, or simply absent loved one in mind, and woven together with glass beads, small wooden charms, and a spell written on a slip of paper. The enchanted fragrance of the Forget-Me-Nots allows whoever smells them to witness short, happy memories of the person the wreath was made for - whether they knew that person or not. The memories come from the wreath-maker, and are only short flashes (less than a minute long) or mere impressions, but all are pleasant or warming. With the spell woven in, they'll last for an entire year without wilting or losing their effects, a souvenir from the festival to take home. Mirrorbound are encouraged to join in, and make wreaths of their own, whether or not they lost someone in Dorchacht's uprising. It can be for someone who has disappeared from Geardagas, someone who died long ago, someone living they miss from home, anyone who is not currently with them.

II. The Uninvited Guests On the 25th, the final day of the celebrations, the partying lasts all day. Food and drink are abundant on every corner, upbeat music is played by street performers and over the radios that can be found in nearly every household and shop, and the bonfires have been enchanted to let the flames take fanciful shapes. Drinking games and dancing, storytelling and general partying all last clear into the evening, but once dusk falls, everyone gathers in the center square of the city for the fireworks show. The Three are there - the Witches Bryn and Hilda, and the Monster known as The Dragon, Starlight, or formerly Fafnir - with Nessie and Mhairi as guests of honor, and Hilda is the one to set off the first enchanted fireworks, after a brief speech thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate a year of freedom and independence with them. It's with bursts of colorful light in the night sky behind her that she seems to appear from nowhere: tall, dark and imposing, a sharp-eyed Witch that exudes power. Morgana Drummond is not alone, either, flanked by a dozen rough-worn Witches and a host of others. The chaos that ensues is immediate and violent. "All of this for me?" Drummond sneers. Attacks bounce off her, no matter how powerful - even Nessie's considerable spells. Witches will be able to sense the strong barrier spell close-fit around her body, and the others around her will not let Monsters get close. It's The Dragon who speaks, voice rough from disuse but loud enough: "How dare you return here-" "I built this city in all the ways that matter. I was never going to let you have it. You burned away my Dorchacht, so now I will make sure there is nothing left of yours but ashes." a. To Sleep, Perchance Unreachable, Morgana Drummond's form limns in a sickly violet light, the circle of a spell forming beneath her feet, steadily growing as her power gathers. So much magic gathered in one spot is bound to be felt by all the Mirrorbound, Witch and Monster alike, oppressive in nature as if it could steal the breath from your lungs. Perhaps it truly was a fluke that she was driven from Dorchacht, a happy accident caused by a timely distraction. The spell circle spreads, glowing, until it envelops the entire city, and it pulses once, blinding, before it sears itself across Dorchacht's streets and buildings in burnt lines and symbols. The fireworks continue to pop and burst overhead, casting shadows that seem suddenly sinister. Nothing happens for just a moment - and then all the people of Dorchacht collapse in waves. Next to a stunned Nessie and furious Mhairi, Bryn, Hilda, and the Dragon fall into a heap as well, the final three bodies to hit the ground. Mirrorbound and citizens of Aefenglom do not fall prey to the sleeping spell despite being in its area of effect. It happens in the span of just a few minutes, and then Morgana is gone in the blink of an eye, leaving her people to sow terror on the sleeping city. b. Battle on the Streets While she brought with her only a dozen Witches from her former Coven, she's collected a force in the Wilde. Blank-eyed rogue necromancers, mind controlled the way the Monsters of Dorchacht used to be, storm the streets controlling in turn their dead Monsters and creatures. A few even have with them dead Nuckelavee, which will require multiple fighters to take out. Wilders from Dorchacht gone missing on expeditions in the last year bear the signs of mind control as well - the ones who aren't dead, shambling around the necromancers. Maybe you recognize them, maybe you don't. Maybe you can help them, or maybe you can't. The mind control enchantments can be dispelled with a lot of effort or with the specific spells used often by the Resistance a while ago, for those who still remember it. In the slums of Dorchacht, the people who were convinced of Morgana's return, those who want to return to the days of slavery and terror, break free from the now-sleeping guards and failing wards that kept them contained and join the fighting, manic in their glee. The spell that put the rest of Dorchacht to sleep seems to slip right off them, perhaps sensing their loyalty to terrible causes. It is chaos, as the insurgents set fires and attack at will with magic, claws, weapons, anything they have. Mirrorbound will soon realize that they and the visitors from Aefenglom are not the only targets. The sleeping people of Dorchacht are ripe for the killing, unable to react or defend themselves. The fighting will continue into the night until the invaders are all dead or captured.

III. The Aftermath When the fighting ends, the work begins. An entire city deep in the throes of an enchanted sleep is a worst-case scenario that none of them could have predicted, even those who had a hunch Morgana didn't die out in the unexplored Wilde. Miss Nessie and Mhairi will remain on the scene helping to direct the aid efforts in the aftermath of the battle. Fires must be put out, corpses must be rounded up to be buried or burned, captured attackers must be secured and questioned, sleeping citizens must be whisked from the streets to safety and shelter, and buildings ensured to be safe in the meantime. Aefenglom's Coven are called in to assist, anyone who is available, and Mirrorbound help is more than welcomed. They will need everyone they can get to make sure not all is lost in this tragic attack. Nessie herself will ensure the Three are taken to safety in Aefenglom until the people of Dorchacht can be woken. Action needs to be taken quickly. Morgana needs to be found as soon as possible, and capable hands will be needed to search the Wilde far outside Dorchacht, the most likely place for her to go. More urgently, however, are the sleeping citizens. Nessie announces late the next evening, the normally-bubbly woman gone solemn and serious: "I believe I've found a counter-ritual for the spell that nasty woman used, I have. I will need your help, though, Mirrorbound. Volunteers only, of course, of course, as it's likely to be quite dangerous, though the Dreamers and I will take every precaution we can. Discuss among yourselves, decide if you're willing. Those who are, meet at the Coven at midnight on the 27th. It's not right to just leave them all like that, not right at all..."

Welcome to September's event log, Part 1 of The Price of Revolution! This event will continue in the TDM posted on the 21st, with a foray into purposeful dreamwalking. It will be a hybrid test drive and event that current characters will be allowed to top level on as well. Quests into the Wilde to search for Morgana will currently bear no fruit beyond small clues, but Part 2 in early October will deal with her whereabouts and her final fate. As always, direct your questions about the event HERE! And finally, for those who are wondering what's up with Dorchacht, we have a Setting update for you.

Comments

I-A

[benedicus]

( all in all, it has been an enjoyable time helping the children with their performance. not just because they were agreeable and well-mannered about the whole thing—which they generally were, much to aziraphale's delight and surprise—but because he always had a very particular love for theatre. of course, he preferred to watch, but it was still such fun on the other side of it as well.

he's delighted further still when he spies a familiar face. he's just on his way to approach when he hears him murmur to himself. )

Missing someone from home?

( he asks gently as he steps closer to elliot. )

[fiddlestick]

[he considers for a moment, before nodding]

Sure...hopefully I did the magic right.

[fiddlestick]

[He looks up and (assuming Vanitas is not wearing his helmet) -- wow, this guy looks a lot like Sora! Though he won't remark on that because it's not the first time he's seen people look alike. It just happens sometimes.]

Kinda? I guess it just got me thinking of someone who I know would've loved to go to a festival like this, so I thought I'd do this for her.

[getting_better]

[ He raised a brow in response. Clearly, this is something that's almost normal to him and that's something very concerning. Or it would be if Bishop was, well, concerned. Instead he just keeps his poker face and walks over to the necromancer. ]

A bit yeah. In the alley over there is a door, hidden by the shadows. It's opened. Help me take some of the unconscious citizens there to hide them.

[ He raises his katana above the necromancers head. ]

Prioritize the children, elderly, women, then the men in that order. If any more tangos show up, make a big scene. Draw attention. [ A beat. ] Did I say tangos? I mean target. Sorry. Military jargon, terrorist attack, brought up some old habits. You also might want to look away for this.

[ Indicating to the necromancer that's soon to be stabbed. ]

[fiddlestick]

[He's seen Aziraphale helping out, and honestly it's been good to have another adult around. These were very energetic children, and needed multiple supervisors.

He rubs the back of his head at the question. Oh. He must've said it outloud]

Eheh...yeah. An old friend that was kinda my partner on stuff like this.

[fiddlestick]

[Sora is a soft good boy, very appreciated.

Maybe there is something off about those eyes, but Elliot is no rabbit expert so it's not like he would notice that. He just knows that the bunny is very nice and reassuring. He keeps holding onto him, working through his emotions through pets and some crying.

Eventually he does piece himself together enough to respond in a more coherent fashion. ]

....You're probably really confused right now, I'm sure. Sorry.

[benedicus]

On stuff like this? Did you help with theatre often?

( it's hard to keep the interest out of his face because he is honestly hoping that the answer would be an affirmative. it's always such a treat when he finds someone else who has interests in line with his.

particularly with the whole aspect of everyone coming from different places with different cultures! he's found himself to be very interested in the culture of others. )

[fiddlestick]

Well, more concerts than theatre...but yeah! I'm a musician, actually.

[So he's pretty used to this sort of life. Even if this has less instruments and scores, it's still familiar enough that it's easy for him to go along]

ii-b

[fulgency]

[It seems at first the necromancer is to have some unnecessary reinforcement as two Witches come hurrying toward him. But a moment longer than passing glance and it becomes more apparent their aim is a careful retreat. They pay no mind to Chariot and one appears to be hobbling, lagging, and near-collapse. It is easy to see why she is in the state she is when she stumbles, exposing her back. Her already weathered robes leave much of her back exposed, strips of the material left swaying with her movements while some are stuck against her skin. Long, deep claw marks mar her back, the flesh around the wounds visibly blackened as the wounds are beginning to necrotize.]

[The unscathed Witch looks behind himself at the sound of his compatriot's stumbled steps, yelling at her to keep moving as the thunderous sound of pursuing sphinx draws nearer. Looking back to the necromancer, he barks an order to deal with that thing and pointing behind himself as Ramesses' sphinx comes into view seemingly alone. It surges forward to leap upon the near-fallen Witch only to be thwarted by spikes arising from the earth from a spell cast by one of the Witches. While the sphinx adjusts its trajectory enough to avoid impalement, it is not quick enough to avoid all injury and it is nicked in the side before landing nearby. Ramesses appears then from the opening of the street the sphinx emerged from, but he's too focused on his quarry for the moment to notice the necromancer and their shambling pets or Chariot just yet.]

[islandhuntress]

You are giving joy without wanting or needing any acknowledgment. The reward is seeing another have joy. [She counters his assessment, speaking softly as she slithers closer to stand beside him with a soft smile.] Is that also sounding accurate?

[She laughs softly when one of the turnskins gets a clever idea and flanks one of the scarecrows, diving onto its back from behind to try to tackle it to the ground with the cutest little snarl Petra has ever heard.]

[bloodypath]

[A brave move, but ill-timed as a ram-like fawn with burgeoning horns charges the scarecrow, knocking both strawman and turnskin alike from the little post holding the scarecrow up.]

[And Hubert frowns, unable to help the faint twinge of annoyance that floats through the Bond. Not at the children's victory, but because, well, Petra was right. Hubert wasn't so unaware to dispute it; nearly everything he did was along those lines, in some way or another.]

[He never did like feeling readable.] As keen an insight as ever. Though I must say, this is for my own amusement as well.

[It's a weak protest.]

[petcromancer]

[Berserker cuts them out a window of opportunity with his impromptu weapon, and Hector's eyes dart around, trying to figure out how to get them out of this.

What do they have? Plenty of blood and gore, a broken door, discarded weapons....]

They aren't expecting much resistance, and they won't need to look closely at areas they've already cleared.

[Hector isn't squeamish. Necromancers can't afford to be. He grabs one of the severed heads of Berserker's victims and begins to shake it around over the sleeping bodies in the house. Some well-placed blood and gore, some strategic arranging of the bodies, and Hector's hoping it will look like the people inside have already been dispatched.

He stages the scene quickly, then comes back out, blood spattered all over his snow-white wool.]

If we're not here to draw their focus, I don't think they'll look too closely at the 'dead'.

[It's a risk, but it's the best he can do without staying here and getting both him and Trevor's bonded killed.]

[scowlish]

[For a moment, when Reynir says he was making the wreath for him, Onni is startled, blinks several times in a row, and then Reynir laughs and says not about him, and Onni exhales a sigh of relief. Of course, he knows he's not dead at home, and he doesn't think that Reynir comes from a later time than him or anything, but for a moment it had been alarming.

When Reynir starts to talk about what the wreath is really about, Onni listens with interest, making a soft 'mhm' when Reynir asks if he remembers the priest lady from the Old World temple. He remembers her, of course. Her gentle half-attempts to convert them to her religion and her fluffy soft cakes and the drink she'd given them that he now recognizes as coffee. For a moment, he considers Reynir's question about whether he wants to know how things went with her and the ghosts and all of that, and realizes that he does want to know.]

Yes, I think I would like to know.

[Reaching over, he pulls Reynir's wreath towards him and nods when Reynir asks if he can take the wreath, he nods.]

Of course, that's why I offered it.

[braidmage]

[ Reynir handles the wreath gently, not wanting to dislodge or mangle any of the tiny, delicate flowers. He brings it to his face, close enough that the petals are just brushing against the tip of his nose, and inhales deeply.

The magic takes hold right away, and there's only a moment of disorientation before Reynir is seeing someplace else. He knows it must be Finland: the light is so different from anything in this place. He sees the inside of a home - the details are blurry but give off a feeling of a crackling fire, warm wood, woven soft things. But none of that draws his focus, when before him is a little boy with distinctive pale hair.

Reynir feels his heart skip a beat. Onni can't be more than 6 or 7 years old, and in his arms is a little bundle of blankets. Reynir can just see one pale, plump tiny arm sticking out from it. Onni is looking down at his baby sister's face, his own face still so round and big-eyed. As he is watching, little Tuuri burbles and babbles, her little arm waving until her hand bumps against Onni's cheek. She tries to grab at it with her tiny fingers, but finds nothing to latch onto. Onni reaches up to move her hand, and she wraps her whole hand around one of his fingers, clinging tight.

As quickly as it had appeared, the memory dissipates, leaving Reynir feeling like all the air has been knocked out of him. He stays still a moment, wreath held in his hands, stunned and inundated by emotion. It was such a cute memory, all innocence and safety. But of course, grief tinges it like a shadow, and he finds himself totally at a loss for words, just looking at Onni, his face so much longer and older and more tired, now. ]

[exsoldier]

[ If Zack were to guess, it seems like Morgana's plan is to terrorize the city and its citizens to the point that she can swoop back in and resume control over Dorchacht once more. The one good thing to keep in mind about that is that she'll want subjects, and so she probably doesn't have any interest in just wiping out all of the people she just put to sleep.

No, she'd rather use them and turn their minds to her will, but the important thing to focus on is that it buys them some time to fix this and stop her.

Getting people off the streets sounds like a good immediate plan, so Zack nods firmly and heads toward the closest building. Whether it's a home or a business he doesn't know or care, and it's not like anyone is around to argue with them. ]

I wonder why her spell didn't work on us.

[ He frowns to himself, kicking the door open. He strides in and it looks like this is someone's home, so he searches out a couch or other soft surface where he could place the sleeping woman in his arms. ]

[wylderrant]

[ That's sort of how Iramaat is - she's all sunshine and smiles and confidence until she isn't. It's a mask. Something she exudes to try and keep herself moving in times of uncertainty. Especially nowadays when she doesn't really have the magic and immortality to back it up.

She saunters over and peers over his shoulder. ]

Oh, interesting.

[ She runs her fingers gently into his hair in a little ruffle of encouragement. ]

I can't say if there's something you're missing - it depends on what you're trying to do.

hellooooo

[wylderrant]

Far be it from me to turn down assistance!

[ Iramaat really does seem to be in her element. She doffs an invisible cap and bows low to Aziraphale and then mimes handing over a weapon of some sort - probably a sword - and then gestures for him to follow. ]

It's going to be a very near-run thing, so it's excellent that you've joined us!

[scowlish]

[Onni takes Reynir's wreath and holds it for a moment but keeps his eyes on Reynir as he handles Onni's wreath with careful hands and brings it to his face. For a moment, he's still, and then he fidgets slightly, his lips pressing into a straight line while he watches. He can't see what Reynir is seeing, but he can see the reactions on his face, the way his face softens and his eyes widen slightly.

Fidgeting more, he looks down at the wreath in his own hands, shifting from foot to foot until he can feel Reynir's eyes on him again. Lifting his head, he meets Reynir's gaze and exhales a long breath.]

What did you see?

[Probably, he shouldn't ask, isn't sure if he wants to know. He can't remember much from his childhood and is sure he hasn't been happy or content enough to have any other memories that would qualify for this sort of thing. He isn't sure if the wreath can show people memories unless he remembers them, and he suddenly feels a little strange about Reynir seeing the ones he remembers. Not like it's an intrusion of his privacy but...he can't quite tell why he feels uncomfortable. Vulnerable.]

[braidmage]

[ With Onni standing so close, it isn't hard for Reynir to feel the flickering of his emotions - curiosity, apprehension, hesitation. Onni isn't just asking idly; there's some anxiety behind it. Reynir can understand that, considering the memory was about Tuuri, and her memory is such a raw nerve for Onni. ]

It was just a flash.

[ He lowers the wreath, raising his green eyes to meet Onni's gaze, a very small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ]

You were a little kid, and Tuuri was- was just a baby. You were holding her, and she grabbed your finger with her hand and held on.

[ Reynir's heart feels full; there is sadness, there, but also a great deal of fondness, for Onni, and Tuuri. ]

You were such a cute kid.

[beariot]

[ Chariot was quick to ride the sphinx over towards where Kaede had incapacitated the necromancer and dismounted. She dismissed her bow as well, the mana dissipating into ether to leave behind her wand, while her free hand moved to Kaede herself, brushing along her shoulder, and placing just as much mana there as had been maintaining her bow, to calm and sooth... ]

He won't be getting up... His arm and jaw are both broken. No speaking, no gesturing. That's all we needed...

[ He didn't need to be killed. It was enough that he was defeated by a Bond. ]

[beariot]

[ Part of her mana was focused on the boon she'd cast on all the children, so she couldn't just blast away at the attackers... Power alone wasn't really her go-to for any sort of battle, anyways. There had to be a smarter way to fight them... ]

Toss me your cape!

[ She'd give it back, but she needed a catalyst... ]

[beariot]

[ It was at both times relief but also a compounding issue. While she'd been surrounded before, there were now a lot of additional moving parts, and she had even less time to strategize a way out for them. Ramesses wasn't far behind, to be sure, but he wouldn't arrive soon enough to leave things be, nor did he even seem aware she was there just yet.

Her sphinx reared back, concerned for the other summoned beast. In truth, she was more focused on saving the familiar, now, than saving herself. The spikes had done their work, and what's more, gave the enemy some much needed space...

So she'd close that space.

Cosmic magic in Geardagas was unstable, still, to say the least. She could draw power from it, but direct evocation of cosmic energy was something she was still perfecting. But it was what she had to do...

Chariot aimed her bow just at the center of the fracas, firing off a shining bolt that soon collapsed into itself, creating a sudden and powerful gravity well...

She leapt from her mount towards the other sphinx, trying to also throw up a net that would keep the two Sphinx from colliding into the well.

Ramesses couldn't arrive soon enough. She needed all the help she could get. ]

[scatmaam]

Perfect.

[ Scathach skewered the head, raising it up well above her so the whole crowd, her forces and the enemy included, could see it. The roar from the monsters that fought alongside Scathach and Ciaran was deafening. A festival of blood and revenge, born from rage. She almost dared Ciaran, with her gaze, to not feel the call of war beyond simply fighting, himself. To feel their anger, and to let it unite with his own.

This was all of their fight. And it wasn't over. ]

[scatmaam]

[ The fire was pretty discouraging, but it turned out it wasn't simply a small group of witches trying to route them. By knowing the lay of the city a little better, they'd actually managed to route more forces in from the alley, and all started to charge at once. ]

Shields! Raise your shields and hold!

[ Scathach called to the gathered monsters, all raising improvised defensive gear, while the few witches among them tried to grant barriers as well.

She turned to Vanitas. ] Get up high! Look for a way through their line!

[crowsfeat]

[ Eileen flicked away the blackened blood, quickly placing the blade back on her belt before extending her arm in offering to Thancred. ]

Upward. We take to the roofs, boy.

[ There weren't many harpies among the enemy forces. They had the advantage fighting from above. ]