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

howl (witch)

[galdorleod]

((ooc: either prose or action brackets are fine with me!))

{ 1. the freedom festivities (open/wildcard) }

For the first day of the Black City's celebration, Howl wanders, accepting food and drink when it's offered and playing with children when invited. To the average onlooker, there's nothing unusual about him, aside from being easily identifiable as Mirrorbound to those who knew what to look for. But for anyone with even a passing familiarity with Howl, there's something notably different about him: a lack of grandiosity to his appearance. He wears an ashen suit with a black and silver cowl and cloak, far less gaudy than his usual attire, and his hair is its natural black color for the first time in weeks.

The discussions he'd had with fellow Mirrorbound did little to make him feel more comfortable about this celebration. The political situation still seems unstable and vulnerable, despite the progress that had been made. The forget-me-not wreaths compound this fact, intensifying his worries about one year being much too soon to celebrate such a violent conflict - and then again, the freed people of this city are the ones putting on the celebration, nobody else. Perhaps he's overreacting, or projecting some of his homeworld's plights onto Dorchacht. Either way, Howl simply didn't feel right indulging in this party the same as readily as Aefenglom's holidays.

Eventually, over the course of the week, as Howl peruses the city's new shops and restaurants, his attitude towards the celebration shifts from trepidation to acceptance. On the final night of the festival, Howl can be seen meditating over a forget-me-not wreath of his own making along the burnt outer walls of the Old Coven before walking towards the city square to watch the final fireworks show.

{ 2. the uninvited guests (open) }

{ a. flashpoint }

It does not take long for Howl to figure out that the sudden appearance of the woman is not part of the fireworks show, but too long nevertheless. Despite springing into action as quickly as possible, Howl teleports just a few dozen panicked bystanders into the safety of nearby buildings before the suffocating thickness of Drummond's magic makes him stumble to his knees himself. In the back of his mind, he growls something miserable about always having to be right all the time, before forcing himself to stand up and do something.

But what can he do? If Calicfer were here, if he hadn't lost his magic, it would be so much easier to come up with some sort of answer to that question. Not only does he still lack skill in Aefenglom, but he lacks power. How can he do anything in a situation like this when his magic is so weak? Is this how regular wizards in Ingary always feel?

The oppressive pressure from Drummond's spell suddenly ceases, and around him, people begin to collapse to the ground - almost everyone, but not everyone. Sensing that he can move more freely again, he blinks away from blasts of fire and sparks and reappears beside those who are still awake, whether panicked or fighting.

"You," he yells over the noise. Howl grabs at one of the person's hands, whether it's the appendage of a monster or the palm of a witch. "Bond with me, now! Yes, you heard me!"

{ b. battle in the streets sky (open) }

Hours into the fighting, enough of the city is on fire to cast a hellish orange glow into the sky above. With fire comes smoke, blocking most of the clouds and stars from view, but providing a flat background for harpies and other flying creatures to be illuminated against.

At some point, those on the ground may notice that something loud and violent is happening above them, beyond the curtain of smoke. A cacophony of screeches travels intermittently over the city, mixed in with blasts of magic and the heavy flapping of large wings. A flock of harpies, accompanied by a handful of witches, is chasing something up there, and it's putting up a vicious fight. The alliance of each side isn't clear until an enormous tangled mob of feathered monsters suddenly crashes into the roof of a small storehouse, tearing at the enormous flying creature they were intent on killing. The harpies themselves reek of decay and mold - these are the risen harpy pawns of necromancers.

Whatever it is that they're trying to kill, it isn't going down quite yet. A haggard roar explodes from beneath the harpies before it springs to its bird-like feet and thrashes about, trying to throw them off. The creature is ten feet tall, with glossy black wings thirty feet across and a shaggy peacock-like tail, furled-up and tattered. Its feathers are matted with blood, which splatters about as it jerks around.

Maybe, most disturbingly, this creature seems appears to have no head - where its neck ends, there's nothing more than a gaping mouth lined with jagged stone-like teeth.

This is clearly not a harpy, or any other kind of monster. It has the unmistakable magical aura of a Mirrorbound witch - weak, but still alive, and maybe recognizable to those who know him - wrapped in the envelope of a crude transformation spell that was poorly constructed, ineptly cast, and immediately bloated by an enormous imbalance of unfiltered, overflowing magic in the caster's body.

The witch bellows again before being buried once more by undead harpies. The second floor of the storehouse they crashed into collapses, bringing the entire throng to the ground floor.

2-a

[gekijou]

[A rather shocked-looking Yuki stands stock-still in the crowd, the speckled patches on his neck and lower arms turning an intense chartreuse. There is chaos all around him, but he's still. He's not helping anyone, he's not doing anything but looking around, his hair whipping wildly.

And maybe that same hair hits Howl in the face when his hand is gripped and he spins around with force he doesn't realize he has. It grounds him again, and he frowns.]

...Did you just tell me to Bond with you?

[Yes, because discussion is what the man wanted, Yuki.]

[galdorleod]

Very good, your ears still work! Like I said!

[ Howl pulls on the stranger's hand, trying to drag him into action. If they're going to bond, they can't do it here - Howl will need to get him someplace where they'll have at least half a minute of reliable safety. ]

Move your legs if you want to live long enough to turn me down!

[gekijou]

[Yuki's tugged along, almost tripping over his own feet, but after a moment his sense of self preservation finally arrives. This time the following is willing, and he's looking a little less dull eyed. The violently pink patches of skin on his neck mottled with orange start to look more organic in nature and tone the further they get from the worst chaos. Sure, they're still in the middle of it, and Yuki keeps wildly looking around for something, but he's trying to keep up and ground himself. He can still feel his own Bond with Momo, so surely he's fine...]

You're a witch, right?

2b (or not 2b)

[disasterstraight]

The bloodied creature may not be a harpy, but those reanimated corpses attacking it are. And guess what else is? The one currently swooping in to defend the giant feathered beast from those fierce corpses. The raised harpies are different from the other undead puppets Jin Zixuan has fought, but luckily he does have some experience fighting the undead at all, which is more than some monsters and witches can say.

He sees the flock streaking across the sky and hears the crash of the floor collapsing, which is when he takes flight, coming in through the hole they left in the roof and taking aim with his bow. His first two arrows go straight through the heads of the harpy corpses he was aiming at, while the third becomes lodged in its target's shoulder, only causing it to scream a harsh cry of pain and anger, and turn its attention to the brightly colored peacock man who is now landing atop the rubble of the collapsed floor.

He doesn't know who or what this headless creature is, but it's clear that these corpses are after it, which in his mind means they're at least on the same side.

[galdorleod]

Splintered wood and broken furniture are thrown into the air as the creature and its attackers try to right themselves among the rubble. One of Howl's battered, enormous wings stabs upwards, through the hole in the roof and into the air, shaking two undead harpies off with the rush of wind.

In the back of Howl's mind, where the remnants of his conscious and being held, the notices a handful of them suddenly stop clawing at him for no noticeable reason. The fevered spell latches onto the observation a second later and takes advantage of the opening to curl its severed neck over its back and chomp at two more harpies clawing at Howl.

And when he does, he notices - eyelessly - the harpy archer standing behind him. The fact that he's living sets him apart from the creatures enemies, so the creature ignores him for now as it tears the wings from a zombie.

[disasterstraight]

Well, that's... Upsetting to watch. But Jin Zixuan has seen worse in war and bloodshed, so he doesn't allow it to faze him. He instead focuses on shooting down the resurrected harpies attempting to surround them from behind and above. The dead creatures are stubborn, not staying down even when they are riddled with arrows through the chest like pin cushions. Only a shot to the head will make them stop their relentless attack.

Lucky for Jin Zixuan, then, that his keen harpy eyesight makes it easier for him to aim, even in the dim light of the crumbling building. The only thing he has to worry about is running out of arrows, which is why he does his best to shoot thoughtfully, saving his arrows for attacks he knows will strike true.