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

[gynvael]

[ He steps over a broken stool in the doorway, kicking it aside to make way. It's too open for his liking, but true. Good enough for now.

He helps him to a seat, of which there aren't many options. The home's got a charred bed and a few upturned chairs. He flips one over to make a seat. ]

I can go. [ The offer is as abrupt as it's blunt. He perches on nearby crate. His own injuries aren't as numerous, but the day's worn on him, too. ] I know I'm not a welcome sight. But you could use a hand back to the teleporter.

[ If it's even still up and running. Look, he won't press. He's gotten him to relative safety. It's just their conversation has lingered with him since. And as much as he's been determined to separate himself from his other, it's hard not to --

It's a damn headache. Being acknowledged as someone who'd been better in other people's eyes, when he knows that's not who he is. But between the princess and Yennefer and Jaskier, he can't help but feel like he's let enough people down already. (Does it matter? There's a reason he doesn't want any association with his former presence.) ]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Berserker would have taken the floor, honestly. He drops onto the seat, breathing heavily. Something, anything to clean up with...get the blood out of his hair and off his face. Later. For now, he's satisfied with sitting down.

The problem is now he's in close quarters with something -- someone -- that causes him a different sort of pain. It wouldn't be fair to make Geralt leave now after he helped him. ]

...It's not that you're unwelcome. [ Being alone right now would be worse. He's used to being alone and that's precisely why it would be so much worse. It's an uncomfortable reminder of the life he used to live. ] If anything...You're comforting.

[ Ah, there's the vulnerability. Maybe it's because he's exhausted and injured that he's opening up like this. ]

I accept that you're not the person I cared for so greatly, but...I don't want to push you away, either. Even if nothing comes from it, I don't want to close off any possibilities just because of the past.

[ The past that this Geralt had no part in. It was Berserker's own problem to deal with, not his. ]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt is expecting the man to take the out. It doesn't come. A quiet falls between them. It's not the sort of admission he'd expect from someone like him. ]

We can all use allies here. [ He's willing to offer that, at least. It's more than he might've before -- but things have changed. A couple months ago, he wouldn't have thought himself bonded to anyone, either. His time here feels more permanent.

In truth, there's more to it than just knowing someone's been close to him once. It's what he was told on top of that. About the girl.

Maybe it's in response that he finds himself making his own confession. Or it just feels less weighted, telling someone who straddles the strange line of being a stranger and yet not. ]

It isn't only... [ He gestures around them. ] All this. That day, you asked me if Cirilla meant something. That I'd called her my daughter. But where I'd left my world, I didn't get to her in time. [ He'd assumed and accepted the worst. Another loss, one of many. Now he's trapped in limbo, unsure about what the fuck it all means. ]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Allies are good enough for now. He doesn't expect their relationship to be what it was before -- to be under that delusion is unfair to both of them. Closing himself off from any possibility may be the less painful option, but it was foolish. Geralt is a valuable and reliable ally, no matter what.

He falls silent again, unsure of what to say. Cruelty is something he's good at, intentionally or not, though it rarely happened without a purpose. Now it feels like mentioning Ciri was unintentional cruelty...Life was so much easier when he lacked empathy. ]

...You want to return to find her, don't you? I only...I only mentioned her because that was the only person from his life that I knew about.

[ In truth, he didn't know a lot about Geralt or where he was from, just the kind of person he was and some of what he'd been through. The same could be said of Berserker, though. It was just how their relationship worked; the present meant more than their pasts. ]

I didn't mean to bring up something painful for you.

[gynvael]

[ The silence lingers there. Geralt doesn't answer right away. ]

I know. [ He knows it hadn't been deliberate. It'd just thrown him, hearing it only days after he'd left Cintra to return home. Thinking he'd failed her. Even now, it's not so simple. ]

Thought about it. [ Between dreams and hallucinations and prophecies, there've been too many people telling him what he's meant to do. None of it has helped a damn bit. ] She doesn't know me.

[ Will she? Apparently, some version of her had. Whatever that means. He's not surprised to hear the other hadn't said much about anyone else. Not Yennefer nor Jaskier nor Vesemir. Important people that Geralt has rarely spoken a word about. It says a lot -- more than anything -- that only Ciri had ever come up. And here he is, having not ever really met her. ]

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ To be fair, Berserker wasn't one to divulge much about himself, either. The topic of children had only come up because he'd mentioned he'd killed his own son. It wasn't a pleasant topic of conversation, to say the least. ]

I have no interest in giving you false hope that she ever will. [ He knows all too well about the same person going on diverging paths -- his own existence is the result of that. It's complicated and messy. ] If you ever find a way back...if you even want to, you may never find her again. You may well follow a different path than the Geralt I knew...No one can say what will happen.

[ He doesn't know of the prophecies, of course. Even if he did, he's not really big on believing in such things. Not exactly comforting words, either. ]

Your destiny is your own. Don't...pay any mind to the words of someone clinging to a ghost from their past.

[gynvael]

[ A fair assessment. He's considered that, too. He's already learned that even their paths here were not the same. That the other had been a witch.

A wry expression tilts his lips. ] Mm. I think you're the first person who's told me to ignore destiny.

[ And maybe a few months ago, he'd have agreed. Now he's not so sure. For the most part, since he's been here, he's tried to put it out of mind.

The irony, which he doesn't voice, is that he never wanted to find her or to know her. Fuck, he hadn't even known her name until recently. It's not any thought of destiny that makes him want to find her now. It's that, if she is alive, then she's alone. ]

[curruid_coinchenn]

If it's destiny, it will happen. Trust me, I'd know...

[ In his first life, his destiny was to become a legendary warrior at the cost of a short life. He would have met that end if his path hadn't been altered by an outside force, what made him the person he is now. In a way, that was his destiny as an Alter: to never be as he was supposed to be. A great point of resentment was the fact the destiny he'd chosen had been ripped out of his hands. Being brought here soothed that some, if only because he'd been able to choose how to live for the first time in his life. ]

That's the only reason I say that. If it happens, then it happens. If it doesn't, it was never destiny in the first place, only a lie meant to push you towards a path someone else wanted you to follow.

[gynvael]

[ His eyebrow lifts. Interest flickers across his expression. Destiny has followed him for years back home. Everyone telling him what he's meant to do. It's not the same in this world. Here, this is the first time he's met anyone who's spoken of it plain as day.

He lets a few moments of silence pass. ] You're speaking from experience.

[ Not quite a question. And despite how much he's tried to distance himself from his former presence, now that they're talking -- part of him can't help wondering what'd drawn them together in the first place. ]

[curruid_coinchenn]

I am...

[ How much does he really want to talk about this right now? He's exhausted and wounded and really just wants to clean up and leave this stinking, burning city full of death and uncomfortable memories. The idea of talking about his identity (and someone else's) doesn't really sound great right now.

And yet. ]

There was a prophecy I overheard when I was a boy that whoever went to the king that day and declared themselves a warrior would become a legend...I immediately went to the king to do so. I missed the ending of the prophecy that said this legendary status came at the cost of the short life.

I didn't care. I lived my life as I pleased...And I did become a legend. Things got messy towards the end...I killed my own son without knowing who he was and I ended up being killed by a woman I should have killed myself.

[ Berserker shrugs. ]

That destiny should have been mine, anyway...The only thing that changed that destiny was that woman and something known as the Holy Grail. She wished for a version of "me" who would be a perfect king for her. Her wish on the Grail twisted who I should have been into an apathetic killer who only knew how to conquer and destroy.

[ Confusing? Yeah, a little. Super revealing? Very. ]

So...Destiny will sort itself out unless someone purposefully interferes with its course.

[gynvael]

[ His expectation is that the man will give him an ambiguous answer at best. Maybe a yes with no further explanation. What he gets is much more.

The tale goes uninterrupted. He simply takes the time to wipe his blade clean -- as best he can -- before putting it aside. It's a hell of a story. One whose pieces Geralt chooses not to explicitly judge nor dwell on exactly how it must feel to kill your own child. He's the last person to say shit about fucking things up.

The more he learns, the more he feels an uncomfortable common ground growing between them. ]

I've nothing so grand. Just a girl in the woods. [ A princess, technically. But with Cintra aflame and Nilfgaard at Sodden, Geralt can't say what's left for her to inherit. If she's still out there.

For a moment, he studies Ciarán. Tempting, isn't it? To think of the ways Destiny might be responsible for who he's become. The bodies he's left behind; his multitude of regrets. It also changes fuck all. ]

Don't know about Destiny, or magic wishes, for the things we've done. Or shouldn't have done. [ There's no accusation in his words, but they're not minced, either. ] Those are choices we make. And choices we live with.

[curruid_coinchenn]

There's nothing else that can be done. Some will spend their whole lives running away from the consequences of their choices...But it changes nothing. What we do will eventually catch up to us.

[ To him. Not like it already hadn't -- the reality of his life as the "Mad King" had robbed him of everything he should have been. He was slowly regaining what had been taken from him in this place. ]

...I don't know why I'm telling you any of this. Leave whenever you like...You don't owe me anything.

[ Maybe he feels a little too vulnerable right now. He shouldn't be indulging in the comfort of someone he doesn't know and yet feels like he does know. It's only going to hurt more in the long run. ]