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 does, though it's a faded recollection at best. They hadn't interacted exactly. Still strangers in his mind.

At least he recognizes the scowl. He raises an eyebrow. ]

Depends. You want me to?

[ If she wants to hobble on her own, he's not going to insist otherwise. Keeps his hands free. The truth is, she'd be easiest to throw over his shoulder and simply carry her off. But he figures for the sake of pride, they'll stick with hobbling.

For now. If they have to run, all bets are off. ]

[stopfen]

[He's getting a grunt. Or she was struggling and not saying.]

Not really. [More moving along at top speed. ] But I can't run and hold your hand otherwise. [She'd have to let go of one of her crutches, then she'd be screwed later. And even if she didn't, he'd probably be moving too quickly for her one leg to keep up.

But then there's a witch. Starting to throw fireballs at them from behind.]

[gynvael]

[ Fair enough, because she pretty much just gets a grunt back in response. He's searching for somewhere to take her -- a process that amounts to finding an area that is 1) closer to the edge of the city; and 2) looks least likely to soon be ablaze -- when he catches a spark of flame out of the corner of his eye.

Ah, shit.

There are no walking corpses around this witch; just a wild look in his eyes and a flame in his hand. Geralt moves to the side, drawing both the witch's attention and the attack away from the fey. He ducks, the scorch of fire narrowly missing his head.

He tackles the witch before another spell can be fired off. Where he might've once drawn a knife, he's got a better weapon on hand: sharpened claws that rake across a delicate throat. Blood spills to the ground.

But while he's busy here, there's another problem: the distinctive shriek of a nuckelavee nearby. ]

[stopfen]

[Fire and iron powder. Her least favorite things. But hey, this guy had them covered. That problem was very quickly dealt with.

Only for a bigger one to appear. Making the fae's face scrunch up into a displeased look that might have almost been comical if it wasn't for the danger. She wasn't a fan of the fire slinging witches, but that wound to her leg...It had a month healing, was almost completely healed now really. But the memory of how it'd happened was fresh.

Nuckelavee. She remembered very well how one's bone sword had gone straight through her leg. And the moment she hears that screech, hears the hoofbeats? There's a droning noise. Her wings flickering into life, the sparks and iron in the air stinging them but she was flinging herself up onto a building and out of reach of the horse creature.

She doesn't get much farther than the roof, but it was relatively safe compared to the ground with a Nuckelavee. As long as nothing that could actually climb appeared. Having a horse arse kind of made it diffcult to climb.]

[gynvael]

[ Geralt snaps his around at the flutter of wings. She can fly? Why the fuck didn't she do that from the start?

He sighs. He's fought these horses before; they were already powerful at the time, but these ones seem fueled by whatever magic has raised them from the dead. Hard to say if cutting off its head will have the same effect. The one that bears down on them already has a missing head. One of them. Its fused rider sits atop, ending only in a stump of a neck.

So that's a problem.

The steed beneath uses its intact head to screech. Geralt draws his sword. He's been avoiding the Nuckelavee. Seemed like the fully grown dragons were better suited to taking care of them. But this one charges full speed at him, changing course as soon as the fey fluttered away. It's large enough and fast enough that even rolling away doesn't get him out of its trajectory: it slams heavily into him with stampeding hooves. Despite having no head, the body above snatches at him, the horse's sharp curved teeth snapping.

He struggles to hold it at bay, its decaying body not at all weakened even as he sinks his claws into the exposed bone and muscle. ]

[stopfen]

[She could fly, but she was too heavy to keep flying for long. She wasn't steady enough to keep flying without being hit in the chaos. Tossing herself up onto a building where it was safe was the most she could do.

From there she watches.

At first, she thinks the nuckelavee missing one of it's head is a good sign. They'd know which head to target. The horse one... Then she realises as it runs with reckless abandon that no. It was just their luck that it was an undead one. They were already hard enough to kill.

She clambers, using her crutches to get along the edge of the roof. Trying to find a good angle. A good angle, when all she had was a small obsidian knife tucked into her belt and one leg. Against something that was already dead.

...fuck.




But she did have an idea. It was probably a bad idea, the kind Armin would grab her by the sleeve and hold her back. But it was an idea. So she squared her shoulders. Wings raising, getting ready to take off...and then--

The flick into action again. Sending her barreling down and into the side of the horse monster's neck at top speed. Please may her exoskeleton covered body and wooden crutches be harder than it's carcass. Because she was crashing into it, trying to knock it off of the turnskin.]

[gynvael]

[ At first, Geralt pays only half attention to the flutter of wings: he assumes she's fleeing. He won't begrudge her. With a bad leg and no weapon, he'd rather her run for safety than get in more trouble.

Then he sees her hurtling towards him out of the corner of his eye. It shouldn't work. It somehow does. The Nuckelavee gives a shriek that rivals a banshee and stumbles -- just enough that he has room to roll out from beneath it.

He's no fucking idea if removing its last head will do a thing. He goes for it, anyway; his sword comes down to slice clean through it, one eye on the woman in case the creature's attention goes on her. ]

[stopfen]

[Someone had gotten hurt for her mistakes before. She'd die before that happened again... Literally.

The bodily slam worked better than expected really. She'd been capable of doing it before, back home against other humans. But that had made sense, inch for inch she'd been the heaviest of her group of cadets. Most of that bulk had been muscle.

Even if she was a fae, the more magical inclined monster. That bulk was now covered with a hard shell. Powered by those droning wings... It was a lot suddenly slamming into the shoulder of the horse-creature.

Then it's other head is off. Falling to the ground with enough force to make a rather unpleasant noise. The fae didn't land, didn't put pressure on her leg for that, instead she flutters back and away. Watching.

The headless body stood on spindly legs. Trembling but still stood. Then a leg was blindly kicking out, hooves pawing for the ground.]

[gynvael]

[ One would presume both heads being cut off might do the trick. Apparently not.

It does, however, make it completely blind. Visionless? Whatever the term might be for something that's technically without eyes because the eyes are inside heads that are no longer attached. Either way, its four legs buck and rear. He doesn't give it a chance to go on a mad stampede: its front legs are swiftly detached and as it slumps forward -- still kicking its rear hooves -- he takes care of the rest of its feet.

It isn't dead. But it's not doing much more than twitch. A pause; then he grabs the head before glancing up at the fae. His intentions become obvious when he tosses it into a nearby fire. It crackles, sending the awful stench of cooked rotting flesh in the air. No way he's risking its master coming along to affix one if its head back on. ]

You can come down.

Maybe...it grew another head like something out of bloodborne

[stopfen]

[The fae still hovered for a moment. The image of it wiggling around was grimmly comical. Especially when it's legs had been completely removed... She'd kept her distance though. Until the turnskin had burned it's head.

Just in case. These weren't titans, they couldn't just regrow a limb. That didn't mean she was getting close until it was clearly unable to get back up again.

Then she let out a ragged breath. Desending down, wings fluttering once she got close to the ground and- Nope. The crutches were slidding along and she's crash landing with only one leg to stabilize her.]

this is true

[gynvael]

[ Coming down is certainly what she does. Geralt only just catches her in time. It's a good way to find out exactly what bowled over the Nuckelavee so effectively: a hardened shell around her combined with her weight.

He gives a brief glance over his shoulder. Whether she can move or not, she's going to have to before anything else comes along. ]

This way. [ A haphazard guess, but he remembers a clearer path up ahead. Maybe a room he can put her in for a bit. There's no such thing as a safe place to stay, obviously. Still, anywhere's better than the open streets. ]

[stopfen]

[She was deceptively chonk. Weighing 70kg at only 5'6...Or maybe less than that now. She shuffles, righting herself as best as she can while being held. Shoving the crutches back into position for walking.

He gets a grunt of acknowledgement as she moves along, following his lead. Wings giving a little shuffle as they folded flat again. Not speaking, saving her breath]