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.

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QUESTIONS

[moustre]

Elliot Craig | OTA | Witch

[fiddlestick]

I-A. Helping Performances
[It was pretty easy to get Elliot to volunteer to help the orphans with their reenactment play. Sure he's supposed to be here enjoying festivities, but there was something about helping productions that made him happier than anything else. So it's easy to find him among the "backstage", helping the kids learn their parts, finetuning instruments and songs, patching together set pieces. He seems pretty happy as he does it.

Otherwise you might catch him during a moment alone, as he gets a little more somber in his self-reflection. There's almost a look of loneliness on his face as he looks over the plays being assembled. You may even hear him speak quietly to himself]

He would've loved this...

[He was certainly enjoying himself, but there was no mistaking the fact that something felt Missing through the whole process. Something that wasn't easily replaced.]

I-B. Forget-Me-Not (Thread will contain CS3 spoilers)
[Having been among the Resistance, there had been some folks he remembered falling during their attack, as well as ones who fell in the battles after. So he finds some time to visit their plaques, praying over ones that he recognized briefly.

After he's finished with that, he can be found making a wreath of his own, made with white and robin-egg blue flowers. It's not for anyone that fell in Dorchacht, but someone he's always thinking of.]

II-B. Battle in the Streets
[he always had suspicions that Drummond had survived, but this certain exceeded his fears of what could happen. It was terrible, what was being done here.

Elliot didn't hesitate to jump into action. He's helping with forming barriers around the sleeping folks, as well as fending off any would-be attackers and arsonists with powerful water magic. Over a year of constant practice, and he's become a force to be reckoned with.

Maybe you encounter him while needing help yourself. Otherwise, he could certainly use back up himself. Powerful witch he may be, he wasn't immune from being overrun, or from running out of steam. Help protect him and the citizens he's protecting.]

Wildcard
[Got another prompt for me? Hit me up here or on plurk at neutronstar!]

Momo | IDOLiSH7

[yesdoubt]

[a: festivities]
(i. eat, drink and be merry)

[Far be it from Momo to miss a celebration ever, especially when it's one for a city he's rather fond of. Since the whole sport day Dorchacht put on earlier in the year, he's been in and out of here participating in similar kinds of activities and getting familiar with the local Coven and Wilders, so of course he's going to show up for what's looking like it'll be the biggest celebration Dorchacht has.

And, as ever, he's dragging everyone else into his shenanigans too. The moment he finds a good bar or restaurant is the moment he starts beckoning people over or literally dragging them if they don't look like they're going to take exception to that, entirely too ready to start pushing food on them (and drinks if they look old enough).]

Come on, the party's just getting started! What kind of food do you like? We'll find you something good!

(ii. forget me not)

[While the wreath creation is somewhat more somber, there's no shortage of people Momo misses from home, so he takes the time out to make one when he's not gently menacing people into having fun. He mainly hesitates on who to make it for, since it seems to need someone specific for the magic to work properly, but eventually he's well into the process, building the wreath with a surprisingly delicate hand.

If anyone seems to be having a bit more trouble or stalling on something, he'll lean over with a small smile.]

Need a hand?

--

[b: battle on the streets]

[Momo was done enough with the necromancers on their own earlier in the year. In the midst of all this, when there's so many people in direct and immediate danger and so many noncombatants caught up in it all, it brings out a side of him that's quite rare to see.

While the dead creatures are an obstruction to reaching their puppeteers, Momo is more than willing to give them something to think about, whether it's spikes of ice slammed into their face with his magic or a number of cauterised wounds (or a missing limb...or head) with his enchanted knife. However, they're not his main focus, and as soon as he gets a shot at the necromancers he's very clearly intently targeting - especially if someone else is at risk from them or their creatures - he strikes without mercy and an uncharacteristically rough and coarse roar.]

And what the fuck do you think you're doing, bastard!?

[For Momo, in this state, striking means hurling himself at them like ten tons of bricks and angry fists, a furious snarl on his face that exposes his lengthened canines and makes him look all the more like a feral dog. He sinks fists and sometimes feet into the head, stomach, anywhere that will put someone down quickly but then does not stop, following the unfortunate necromancer down to the ground to continue the process of beating them into a bloody pulp with his bare hands.

Someone might want to stop him before whichever necromancer he's dealing with this time ends up beyond being put back together again by healing magic.]

--

[c: aftermath]

[Despite all the feral throwing himself around Momo did during the battle, and the fact that he's clearly banged and clawed up from the fight, he doesn't stop once the battle is over. He begins helping to move innocents out of danger with an almost disturbingly single-minded focus, apparently not content to stop in any measure before things are over.

Perhaps he's carrying two adults, one over either shoulder, or cradling two sleeping children side by side in his arms in a very protective sort of motion. Regardless of what he's actually doing, he's so focused on getting people from point a to point b that he might almost walk into someone else transporting the sleeping Dorchacht citizens, starting visibly just before he collides with them like he just woke up from a trance himself.]

...Ah, sorry. Didn't see you there. [He manages a smile, well-practiced enough to at least look like it's not forced.]

--

[d: wildcard]

[[Feel free to hit me up at reviseleviathan for other plotting! Momo will be going on the dreamwalk as well when that goes up.]]

Iramaat | Faun

[wylderrant]

I. Join the Fun

[ Iramaat can be found amongst a crowd of laughing and playing children, wielding a pretend sword and rallying her 'troops' on to overthrow the vile former overlords. She's apparently in her element, based on the fact that she's melodramatically overacting everything as she throws herself into it. She twirls the imaginary sword and gestures. ]

There they are! Charge-!

[ A small group of gleefully screaming children goes streaking by and Iramaat laughs and pauses to glance at a bystander. ]

Come to join the fight?

B. Battle on the Streets

[ The sudden change from celebration to deadly serious combat is not entirely out of Iramaat's wheelhouse, but it's certainly rather startling. Everything has been shot to hell and here she is scrambling and trying to make the best of it. The faun has her sword, at least, so that's better than not having it. Unfortunately, she's also in a city which means that her nature magic and her frightening bellow really don't do much, which leaves her with just her sword skills to rely on.

She's also, unfortunately, perhaps a touch over her head. She's facing down a group of glowering surgents, easing herself back down a side street, just keeping them at bay with the tip of her sword as she dodges magic or thrown cobblestones. For once, Iramaat looks grim.

A little help? ]

Wildcard

[ Make something up! Hit me up at dragoon1940 ]

Prompto Argentum | FF15 | OTA

[clickclickbang]

Fun

[Prompto wasn't terribly involved in the revolution a year ago, but Caren had been, and he's here partially in honor of her. He's also here because hey, he's a photographer and it is important that these sorts of things get memorialized in photos! He can be found wandering the city with his camera in hand, taking pictures of some of the performances and some of the celebrants if they look particularly happy.

He also has Lionheart strapped to his back under a cloak. He's sure it's not going to be necessary, but honestly he just feels safer with his gun outside of Aefenglom itself.]

Unexpected Guests

[Turns out Lionheart was necessary. The second things start going south, Prompto quickly ushers some of the panicking locals away from the square and into the first safe building he can find, even carrying a couple when they fall asleep. Then he shoulders his camera, pulls out Lionheart, and gets ready to protect this building until a Witch that isn't trying to kill everyone can take over with magic

Once a Witch comes, Prompto heads off to look for anyone he knows in need of back up. A couple of times, he stops to take a photo of this building or this group of (thankfully still living) sleeping citizens. He just thinks that's going to necessary, when all this is said and done.]

Fuck Drummond...

Wildcard

[Prompto can also be found with the flowers, watching the shows, or maybe getting roped into them! I just didn't want to make this too long, so hmu if you have other ideas!]

Hubert von Vestra | Witch

[bloodypath]

i.
[It's the most colorful most people have ever witnessed Hubert—and by "colorful," he's replaced his usual dreary coat with a dark red one, the Three Stars pinned plainly to his collar to avoid any... misunderstandings like he's suffered in the past. And though Hubert could hardly be called "celebratory," the revolution's anniversary has put him in good spirits.]

[He watches one set of children and their poor abductees play at their revolution war games from afar at a bench. With a smirk, a subtle gesture of his hand, and an effort of magic, one of the dark-robed scarecrows starts to move.]

[Much to very sudden shrieks of children and at least one startled caretaker, but the animated scarecrow moves in clumsy, dramatic sweeps. A few of the Monster children are the first to respond, young Turnskins and Chimeras fluffed up in challenge, going back at the new threat with renewed bravado.]

ii.
[There is no mercy.]

[Blankets of fog follow Hubert; he controls his conjured mist with idle tugs of magic. Sometimes, he uses it as cover to hinder the sight of Morgana's loyalists as they advance on Mirrorbound or slumbering citizens.]

[Other times, Hubert adds something dark and tar-smelling from a vial to the fog as it moves to encompass a company of undead puppets, and if clear of all friendlies and citizens, combusts violently into an inferno at a spark before the cloud burns quickly into nothing.]

[And when Hubert shifts the fog into a tightly controlled orb or barrier and adds the contents of a vial that turns the fog a muddy color does he strictly caution people from it.] I wouldn't touch that, if you value your life.

Wildcard
[PM me or throw a prompt at me, I'll roll with it]

Sora | Kingdom Hearts | Puca

[oathkeeper]

[a. join the fun]

[The celebrations are in full swing and Sora can be found joining in a lot of the games and re-enactments of revolution between the kids with games of tag and the like. He knows how important it was for Dorchacht to be freed because now he can see all of these free monster children running about and playing and laughing. Some of them might not have families or homes yet but that is all coming together for the better each day. Sora is happy to spread a little bit of cheer and do his part.

He comes up to anyone nearby and passes out magical sparklers and poppers to anyone who wants them.]

Here, these are for you! Take as many as you need! Light up the sky!

[He grins and his long rabbit ears twitch as he turns back towards the crowd of festivities. He then raises his hands and claps them to create a flourish of magic light in the air. Sparks and blue dust fly up and reveal a very whimsical and cartoon looking creature in the sky. It floats like a balloon before it pops and rains down sparkly lights all over the place. It is a puca’s special illusion magic!]

[b. forget-me-nots]

[If someone happens to be making wreaths out of the fragrant forget-me-nots they might suddenly find a small fuzzy-looking brown rabbit looking up at them with bright ocean blue eyes. The rabbit sits there and sniffs at the flowers that you might have. His little rabbit nose twitching and twitching. A small clawed paw comes up to pat or tug at the flowers. Like he wants you to give him one or two.

This happens to be Sora in his full rabbit form. He’s not very good at transforming back yet. So now he’s stuck as a rabbit and wants to snack on some flowers. What sort of memories will be shared if the little rabbit ears the flower? Who knows!

Give him a flower! Or pick him up?? Just don’t put him in a stew.]

[c. to sleep, perchance]

[When Morgana Drummond appears Sora can’t help but think how much she reminds of Maleficent. She’s looming and dark and the chaos that she inflicts on the city checks out. When the fireworks go astray and all of the people around him start dropping like flies he quickly tries to do his best to collect the children falling in the streets.]

Hey! Help me! We’ve gotta get everyone somewhere safe!

[Everyone is falling asleep right where they’re standing and people could get hurt. If they can just get them inside or move the sleeping bodies so they don’t’ get hurt then that would be a good first step to figuring out this dilemma.]

Did anyone see where Morgana went?!

[d. wildcard]

[got something else? throw it down here too!]

Lan Xichen | Witch | OTA

[zewu_jun]

I. festivities
a. Playing along

[Lan Xichen buys a few of the crafts and wares offered during the festival, happy to support those that need supporting in what way he can. Sometimes he purchases sweets to give away to the children running around and enjoying the sparklers, watching them go about their games with delighted calls back and forth with their friends. It is similar to what he used to know at home in that way, and he eventually gets pulled into one of their revolution games, as an innocent monster in distress, because the children have quickly decided that is the most fitting role for him. Except he's too tall, and a few of the louder kids end up arguing that he should be one of the evil Witches! That would make more sense. Another group counters that he doesn't look like one; it would be too weird! And Lan Xichen stands in the middle of the heavy debate, listening quietly as they decide what he should be doing.]

b. Making wreaths

[During a quieter time when he is alone, Lan Xichen finds himself with some of the Dorchacht natives who are making wreaths in the new coven's yard. He watches those participating for a while, then, with some urging from the ones who finished theirs, makes a wreath of his own. It's slow and methodical work, lacing in the enchanted flowers as he weaves the wreath together.

Those who catch the scent from the Forget-Me-Nots get flashes of laughter from a child and a woman, soft questions about innocent things like catching insects and watching clouds. Even a vague impression of a face, lovely, if unclear. She seems serene and warm, murmuring Take care of each other. The flashes pass, never fully formed, but Lan Xichen hum a soft song to himself.]

II. Fighting the dead

[During the invasion, Lan Xichen turns his priority to protecting others. The people asleep and strewn in the streets need defending, and he draws his blade in their defense. Sticking more to fending off attackers and disabling those that are persistent, he tries not to aim for fatal strikes, but as combat becomes more tense and overwhelming, his tactics begin to be more offensive. When the sword isn't enough, he pulls out his flute and begins to play, sending sharp lashes of wind to cut his enemies and knock them back or a freezing touch to slow their movements. In the thick of things, he's likely to have his own back exposed at some point as well, putting himself in danger to drag unconscious or wounded allies to safety.]

Stay together! Don't let them corner you!

III. Clean up and recovery

[In the wake of the fighting, Lan Xichen goes searching through the fallen for survivors to heal and bring to safer quarters. He is sporting some injuries himself, and exhausted, but does what he can to help others to their feet and offer food and water to those resting after the battle. Holding something out, he bends down with concern.]

Come, we should go inside. Are you able to walk? If you will allow it, I can help you get more comfortable.

[ooc: If you have a situation and need a random volunteer just throw the scene at me and I can roll with that as well! I'm here for meetings and new CR with the continued CR. You can find me at teaandreveries for plotting too if you want to get specific details hashed out.]

onni hotakainen ❄ stand still stay silent ❄ ota

[scowlish]

❄ The Freedom Festivities

[Onni wasn't around for the fight by the resistance, and he doesn't know much about what did happen either. But he has been to Dorchacht before, and he's developed a taste for the festivals this new world holds, particularly for trying different types of food - street foods and desserts, a lot of things that he's never tried or even tried anything similar.

This festival is actually quite a bit prettier than most of them are, at least as far as Onni's taste is concerned. It's understated with stars everywhere and bright flashes of light everywhere from the little bits of mirror that adorn almost everything. There are a wide array of booths and tables with goods and food made by all the new small businesses here, which is something else he's interested in supporting, and so he enjoys wandering from place to place, looking for anything that might appeal to him. Mostly, he's looking at little carvings of in wood (particularly of owls), functional daggers or other gear, and blankets or clothing that are woven from wool or made from fur.

The fireworks are amazing, and he watches with open enjoyment, his head tilted back and eyes a little wide. While there have been fireworks before, he still hasn't seen enough of them to take away any of the joy or amazement. He's never seen anything like it at home. Lighting the sky on fire with all these loud bangs and pops would have been the worst possible idea there. It's an incredible sight to behold, almost as beautiful as the aurora, and he enjoys it openly.

The tours of the city pique his interest as well, and he goes through, listens with interest to the story of what's happened in this city and everything that's happened since. If he sees anyone else that looks like they may be Mirrorbound, he tilts his head and asks curiously.]

Were you here when it happened?

❄ ib. Forget-Me-Not

[As much as he hates to admit it or think about it too much, Onni is a very sentimental person. And he's also someone who has lost a lot of people in his life. So the forget-me-not wreaths appeal to him in a way he wouldn't have anticipated. When he sees the tables set up in the yard of the New Coven, he's drawn to them almost immediately and it isn't long before he's seen the walkthrough of how it works, how to make the wreathes and working on one, and then another and another.

First, he thinks of Tuuri, the person he's most recently lost. Thinking about her still gives him a gut-wrenching moment of pain that feels like falling, but he fights through it as he always has. He thinks of his parents, of being at home and feeling safe, of being hugged by his mother and his father teaching him to row. He thinks of Lalli, who he left behind to keep him safe and who followed him into the Silent World, determined to help him. And while he weaves the flowers and charms and beads onto their stalks, he speaks a soft incantation under his breath and remembers all the good times with them, with his family, in their little village back in Saimaa.

Anyone who touches them and smells them will see flashes of various moments from Onni's childhood, the last time he can remember any truly happy moments. Memories of young Onni, soft-faced and more expressive but otherwise looking very similar, sitting at a round dining table in the kitchen of a rustic cabin with a round-faced little girl with pigtails who's brightly chattering as she sets up an imaginary 'tea party' with an empty toy kettle and empty plates, of a sulky, skinny, tiny little boy with jaw-length hair and huge eyes complaining that there's no real food. Onni chastises him, but with a hint of humour in his voice, and pours them imaginary tea.

There are memories of his parents and grandmother. His mother, who looks strikingly like the little girl with her round face and long hair gives him a hug, holding him so tight, and he squirms and protests but obviously loves every second of it. His father, who looks almost exactly like Onni does now, teaches him to bait a fishing hook, and Onni makes a face and complains about how much he hates it. His grandmother sits in front of him, with prominent cheekbones and wise eyes and long straight hair, her hands moving as she walks him through his first spells, his eyes wide, barely more than four years old.

The grief is heavy in him, but this sort of thing, remembering all those good moments, makes it feel just a little lighter.]

This was a good idea, I think.

❄ iib. The Uninvited Guests: Battle in the Streets

[Onni is not a brave man, and has never claimed to be. Determined, perhaps, to do what has to be done in the worst circumstances, but never one to throw himself into danger for no reason besides adventure. That had always been Tuuri's domain, and he'd actively worked to stop her from doing it. So when the attack first starts, he runs to find Reynir, keeps an eye out for anyone he knows or has a connection to, all with the intention to keep them safe, to get out of this situation unscathed and make sure the people he cares for do the same.

But when he sees the undead terrors that remind him too much of beasts and trolls and giants starting to attack the sleeping residents of the city, completely helpless, it becomes something he can't ignore. Thankfully, he never leaves Aefenglom without being fully armed, and so he's carrying his bow and a full quiver of arrows, his wooden spear pointed at both ends, his hunting dagger. And, beyond that, he's started to practice higher levels of magic now, his power balanced and strengthened by his Bond.

Whether he comes across a sleeping form about to be attacked, or another Mirrorbound struggling to protect someone, he steps forward, his hands lifted and cupped together, eyes bright and pale and almost glowing with the magic he's gathering up inside himself.]

I'm going to burn it!

[It's a curt, quick warning, and then he starts to chant. It's rhythmic, the words rhyming in a particular and well-practiced manner, poetic and forceful but almost stream of consciousness. Parting his hands, he takes an aggressive step forward and thrusts his palms toward the creature. A bright streak of light flashes from his palms, growing as it does into a flaming hot fireball that splats into its target, followed by the smell of burning, toxic flesh. Without missing a beat, he draws his dagger and moves forward.]

Once we get it down, we can move that person to safety. Stay on your toes.

❄ iii. The Aftermath

[Building and repairing things is something Onni has been called upon to do since he was a child, and so once the immediate danger is over, he's quite relieved to go from fighting, which he hates, to repairing buildings and making sure they're safe, which he dislikes significantly less. He does it mostly without complaint, hammering nails and helping to hoist up beams or lumber to patch holes in buildings, putting his strength to good use if he sees need for it.]

Do you have that? I can lend a hand if it's too heavy.

[When the call comes from the Coven for assistance in managing the problem in Dorchacht, Onni goes along to hear what the plan is going to be. It's been a long day and he's tired and a little irritable after so much adrenaline and chaos and danger and hard work, but he suspects that he'll be much more useful when it comes to any kind of magic.

Once the announcement is over, Onni crosses his arms and makes a hum in his throat, glancing to see if there's anyone who looks more like they know what's going on.]

What do you think it'll be? Are you going to volunteer?

scathach | turnskin

[scatmaam]

[ i-b; for whydogs ]

Ye are Blood of my Blood, and Bone of my Bone...
I give ye my Body, that we Two might be One...
I give ye my Spirit, 'til our Life shall be Done...

[ It was a small whisper, largely to herself, as the wreath was completed. The words held with them tremendous gravity, and were not something spoken in vane, but instead in oath so heavy that it seemed to draw in the entire moment. And given the trio of golden triangles that decorated the joint of the wreath, that clasped it together, there would be little question to those that knew whom the wreath, and that oath, were for... ]

And so it is Done. May my spear guide you in your future, and give you strength to face what's ahead...

[ She turned back to Jill, letting out a long sigh, handing the wreath over to her to place in her satchel. ]

Thank you, again, for being here with me, for this... [ She leaned in to press a kiss to the woman's cheek, humming. ] I love you...

[ ii - b]

FÀG AN TSLIGHE!!

[ Scathach was like a fire born from hell, blazing in the night despite the darkness that seemed to constantly surround her. Her blood red spear caught the lights of the chaos around her and shined in an almost sickening way, regardless of what blood and bile stained it from her enemies. She'd assembled as many volunteers as she could, and just as quickly transformed them into a Celtic Battalion, ready to tear into the enemy forces and drive them back into whatever pits they crawled from, and she intended to show no mercy.

The war cry echoed in the city streets, her newly recruited warriors, witch and beast alike, charging right with her, and crashing into a Necromancer's line. Mind controlled or dead, there was no time for her to differentiate. The enemy was the enemy, and she knew if they were true warriors, they would not resent their deaths, regardless. ]

You! Watch the flank!

[ Yes, she's yelling at you. Whether you were part of her unit or not, she was giving orders. The alleys were teeming with Morgana's forces ready to stop this now alarmingly efficient group of actual warriors, and she needed eyes where her own could not be. ]

eileen the crow | harpy

[crowsfeat]

[ ii - b ]

[ Eileen had only come to the event on Shu's behalf, knowing it was best they remain close just in case something happened. And she'd been content to watch him enjoy himself from the shadows. Come night, she'd even taken to allowing herself some respite within the apparent joy and peace this once apparently blackened city had earned for itself. She couldn't not recognize how it had escaped such an ill fate as Yharnam had, and while such a hope was long long gone for the city she'd came from, to know it blossomed within this one gladdened her in some way...

But then it began. Morgana, a name she'd read of, heard spoken of, had appeared, and brought with her a new blight...

A Hunter is always a Hunter, in the end.

Eileen was no soldier. She stalked within shadows, waiting for ideal moments to approach and to attack. The gusts she'd learned to control allowed he some measure of flight, streaking across the city rooftops, and landing when it was time to swoop in for a kill.

You witness such a kill, an undead beast about to land its own deathblow, stopped by the shattering sound of a pistol firing, and the sudden and sickening stab of a curved blade that reflected the moons' light, spraying black blood from where it had found purchase... ]

Come... [ The woman says to you. ]

Let us cleanse these filthy streets. A Hunt has begun this Night, and it's best not faced alone...

[ iii ]

[ But the Hunt... wasn't truly over, now was it? While Morgana's forces had been routed and driven back, Eileen knew keenly well that her work was not done. There was still Prey out there... and she had every intention of finding it.

She was no Wilder. Her work in Aefenglom's slums had been entirely renegade. But even so, she stood among those ready to volunteer for the search, knowing her skills were needed. ]

You'll be needing someone like me. We Hunters know our work.

ursula callistis + chariot du nord | witch

[beariot]

[ ii - a ]

[ Never had anyone within Aefenglom, perhaps even in her own world that could remember it, saw the pure anger and frustration that had fueled the blast that Ursula had levied against Morgana. Not from her. Only Nessie's and the other high members of the coven could even compare in terms of strength, and yet it did nothing. But what it had left was also something none had seen before, too.

Slate blue, ashy and easily overlooked, was gone. Brilliant, almost glowing vermilion was in its place, her hair having shifted during the attack. What's more, in her determination she... didn't even seem to notice. Or care. The attack was starting, and she had no time to be concerned about disguises who what divide existed between "Ursula Callistis" and "Chariot du Nord". She turns to you. ]

Get to the children and get them to safety! I'll cover you!

[ ii - b ]

[ Chariot was a woman on a mission. Find Morgana. Stop her. Anything that stood in her way had better pray to whatever god they believed in, in the meantime. While she refused to kill, Chariot didn't really hold anything else back, determined to put down any obstacle as thoroughly and quickly as she could.

Riding on a summoned facsimile of Ozymandias' Sphinx Familiar's, she took to blasting enemies away with pure mana, or ensnaring them in iron vines, or any number of spells she could sling. Her wand had literally taken the form of a sword, and shifted into that of a bow when needed to attack foes at a distance, but her march to find Morgana could not be stopped...

But the strength of her magic could only bring her so far. The familiar slid to a halt, finding herself quickly surrounded by a Necromancer and their forces. ]

Damnit...

[ iii ]

[ The rest of her strength, what mana she could use, was spent helping put out the fires, summoning great serpents of water to rain down over the infernos. With Morgana nowhere in sight, it was easier her to re-focus, to put her magic where it was well more needed.

Her hair hadn't shifted back... honestly, that cat was well out of the bag now. It wasn't like she could pretend she hadn't done that in front of everyone. There was no mass memory spell she could cast to turn the pages back. She was sure some people had some questions... ]

I'm going to help Ms. Nessie dispel the curse...

[ Considering she'd just spent so much energy hunting Morgana... ]

It's more important right now.

Hua Cheng | Fae | OTA

[deadvotional]

i. join the fun

[ A pack of children have taken over one of the streets, a mix of witches and monsters, all shouting and laughing and apparently attempting to decide what to play next. In the midst of the increasingly loud discussion, one of the children loses interest and instead throws down a popper.

And then the argument promptly dissolves into shrieks as a large snake coalesces out of the colored smoke, rearing back to hiss before it fades away into the colors around it. A few nervous giggles follow, and a lot of nudging before one of the other children is convinced to throw down another popper. This time a paper lantern rises out of the green-colored explosion, winking gold as it rises above the children's head before it too disappears.

After that it doesn't take too long for the kids to cotton onto the game. For every popper they throw down, something else appears in the midst of the explosion. A fountain of flowers that spray outwards but vanish before they can touch anyone. A bolt of cloth that dances through the air and darts towards the nearest child only to pass harmlessly through them. A massive cat that uncurls to bear large, sharp teeth to a chorus of excited screams. One illusion after the other, never the same thing twice.

In all of the excitement, no one quite spots the tall figure in crimson leaned back against a wall and watching. Hua Cheng might just be observing, if not for the way his single eye focuses in on each new explosion and the fingers of one hand that twitch every time a new illusion appears. As focused as he is, he's not entirely oblivious, and when he feels eyes on him rather than on the colored displays, he glances over to offer an innocent smile. It's not all that convincing, but it is an attempt. ]

They seem to be enjoying themselves.

[ There's another pop, and then a rising disappointed groan as nothing appears but color. Hua Cheng's eye darts back in that direction, and his fingers twitch again as a huge, multicolored bird rises out of the smoke and soars over the cheering crowd. ]

ii. battle on the streets

[ The moment the necromancers appear, Hua Cheng is in motion. He aims for the dead first, tearing through the blank, shambling forms without hesitation. There's nothing there, these are not the dead who have chosen to remain. It might be unsettling if Hua Cheng stopped to consider it, so he doesn't bother. E-ming still feels strange in his hand, but the saber can do what it's made for regardless. It's only after he's thinned out the dead that he turns on the necromancers themselves with a focused intensity.

Though he's not entirely one-track minded. When he notices a fellow Mirrorbound about to be overwhelmed, he throws himself in that direction. His crimson-robed figure shoves its way between the defender and the attacking witch or monster, absorbing a blow only to shatter into a massive cloud of silver butterflies that dart into the faces of the invaders. They do no actual damage and the illusion won't last long, but it works well enough for a distraction.

Just long enough for the actual Hua Cheng to grab hold of the Mirrorbound and pull them free of the immediate danger. ]

iii. wildcard

[ Go nuts or hit me up at talkincodes for something specific! ]

Hector | Castlevania | Faun

[petcromancer]

Uninvited Guests A: To Sleep

[Hector only knows about last year's revolution through second-hand retelling, but when an overdramatic Witch appears and people start to fall unconscious, he knows they're fucked.

The magic doesn't seem to touch the Mirrorbound, and for longer than any 'good' person would own up to, Hector contemplates tiptoeing out and running to safety. These are predators, and this isn't Hector's fight...

...except there are children here, allowed to stay up far past their normal bedtimes to watch the fireworks. Hector can put up with a lot, morally speaking. If they were just faceless statistics, he could excuse the deaths... but he's here, looking upon sleeping faces of innocent people and monsters.]

Well, fuck.

[There's going to be bloodshed, likely a massacre. Leave, you should just leave. Hector knows, because if he were back in Wallachia, still serving in Dracula's army, that is what his demon horde would do.

Still cursing his own stupid, newly grown conscious, Hector grabs the nearest prone body and starts dragging toward a doorway. Even if the magic of a threshold won't offer protection if he breaks down a door and starts shoving sleeping children inside, the solid walls will.]

Uninvited Guests B: To Take Arms Against a Sea of Troubles

[When the invaders reach Hector, he's taken his stand in a door frame. Behind him, as many sleeping Dorchachtans as he could drag inside before the attackers reached them. It's a cold, calculated decision, getting into a defensive position and leaving the rest where they lay.

Hector's no hero. He knows he can't save them all, so the most practical course of action is to focus on the few he can save.

Hammer in hand, he waits, hooves stamping nervously as the army of the dead close in.]

I guess it's shit like this that causes people to believe in nonsense like karma...

Edelgard von Hresvelg | Fire Emblem: 3 Houses | Vampire

[unyieldingmarch]

Festivities

[Edelgard was not in the greatest of spirits of late, with the departure not only of two close friends, but also of one of her bonded...and so she had sought the party as a means of attempting to clear her head. It was a passing fair atmosphere as far as she was concerned, and it was a welcome break from her worries.

She can be found easily enough sitting by the bonfires sipping at a cool cup of dark liquid and eating idly, just because of the flavor more than for any real sense of nourishment. The Emperor also makes an appearance at the Fireworks display, staking out a place to sit and watch, most likely on a balcony set up for the purposes of viewing. Friends and new companions are welcomed with a smile, though Edelgard's focus does wander throughout the evening, so it's entirely possible to surprise her.]

Uninvited Guests

[Edelgard responds toe the threat as best she knows how. She's an absolutely savage, brutally efficient fighter even though she's dressed up for a party. Aymr is sadly at home in Aefenglom, but she's never unarmed. A silver saber flickers in her hand and she hurls herself into the fray to defend the inhabitants of the city.

Coming around a corner, white shirt and gloves absolutely covered with blood, Edelgard's blade snaps up, pointed at whoever is near. Realizing it's a Mirrorbound, she snaps out a question.]

There's trouble. Will you fight?

Aftermath

[Edelgard does not stick around in the aftermath of the battle. Not in a place filled with the wounded and dying. She has a tight control over her emotions, but she does not want to slip up and give in to her baser instincts. So she slips back through the portal, moving through the streets, heading home. She can be caught on the way there, or at home, or anywhere in between.]

Wildcard

[Wanna do something else? HMU at intercession]

Berserker (Cú Chulainn Alter) | dragon

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ 1. Forget-me-not (cw: torture/vivisection??) ]

[ Berserker isn't one for sentimentality, at least not in front of most people. Few get to see his softer side, but there's a good reason for him displaying such vulnerability today. These wreaths aren't being made for his sake, but for the sake of those he grew to care so deeply about. Geralt, the one he became close to when Dorchacht was a waking nightmare, and Flat, the unexpected boy that befriended a cranky dragon.

Normally, he'd be quite protective of his memories, but these are memories of his bonded and they deserve to be memorialized. If someone takes a look at his handiwork, he doesn't try to hide it. ]

Do you really want to see what I've put into these?

[ If one chooses to sniff them, you will get one of two memories: a large dragon on the docks, curled up around an older, scarred white-haired man, having an indiscernible conversation

or

something less wholesome: Berserker and a blonde, slender young man torturing and murdering someone in a dark alley. They both seem quite happy to be doing this -- the blonde is the one doing most of the torture, pulling out organs and the like, while Berserker holds their victim down.

No one ever accused him of being well-adjusted. ]

[ 2-A. Battle on the Streets ]

[ He hadn't come prepared for a battle -- his spear was left in Aefenglom. It didn't matter, though, because there was no way he was going to just flee without a fight. Saving lives didn't matter to him, only killing those that would stand in his way. ]

Can you fight? If you can't, run now...Get to safety.

[ Unspoken was the fact he would cover their flight and keep pursuers off of them as best he could. If they were willing to stand and fight with him, he wouldn't say no to the help, too. ]

[ 2-B. Battle on the Streets - now with dragon ]

The fighting is fierce enough that he assumes his full-sized form. His plates and scales provide much more protection against whatever weapons the agitators may use against himself. It also makes him a considerably larger target, for better or for worse.

Berserker uses his size to his advantage, swiping his tail to take down a group of attackers. A path has been cleared -- instead of rushing towards it, he pauses and lowers himself down. It's an offer.

Get on... [ His voice is distorted in this form, deeper and more guttural. ] Whether you want to flee or fight, you're better off with me.

[ Maybe not the whole truth, but it's hard to argue with a very large poison dragon. ]

[ 3. Aftermath ]

[ Exhausted and bearing numerous wounds, Berserker can no longer fight. He can barely walk, maintaining his full-sized form is taking almost all of his remaining energy. The dragon soon collapses on the street with a frustrated growl. Just because he's down doesn't mean he isn't still dangerous, to some degree. If someone approaches him, he pushes himself up, teeth bared, to face them. ]

Leave me...I can take care of myself. Go help somewhere else.

[ It's a weak protest, at best. Given the shape he's in, it's a wonder he's still conscious at all. ]

[ 4. Wildcard ]

[ Got an idea? Did we plot something out? Drop me a starter or PM me here or on discord glitzkrieg#0673! ]

Connor | Detroit: Become Human | Merrow

[plasticasshole]

Forget-Me-Not;

[Connor finds himself making two wreaths, despite having a perfect memory and therefore no need for them. One for the SQUIP, and one for Justine- the two people he loved, and lost when they disappeared. He carries them with him to where he assumes is a quiet area, and inhales deeply. Memories of himself at the bottom of the sea with the SQUIP, slow dancing on the beach with Justine... he misses them. It makes his chest ache even though the memories are happy ones. He'd call them bittersweet more than anything, because he knows he'll never be able to make any more happy memories with them.

Then he hears a noise nearby, and lost in his memories, it takes him a second to react.]

Hello?

Battle on the Streets;

[It's not easy to fight magic with nothing but your fists. So Connor instead opts to fight other Monsters, his utter fury at the attack leaving him partially transformed into his aquatic self despite not being wet- something he's never experienced before. Luckily, he still has legs. His hair, for once, is unkempt as he slashes at combatants with claws, and bites with sharp, needle-like teeth.

He fiercely protects the sleeping bodies of a Merrow family in particular, a husband and wife and two small children. His LED flashes red as he whirls around to analyse anyone who approaches, clothes stained with both red and blue blood, eyes cold and calculating. Upon seeing it's a Mirrorbound though, he nods to the family asleep on the floor.]

Help me protect them.

Wildcard;

[Hit me up at novicecity to plot! Connor is still perfectly friendly to Mirrorbound, he's not feral, just... very, very angry at these people who want so badly to enslave others.]

eren jaeger, dragon

[usurpers]

ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴠᴏʟᴜᴛɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ (ᴡɪʟᴅᴄᴀʀᴅ)

( more of a placeholder + redirection to any plans wanted with eren over to his month's open post! hmu through pm or liberos if you have interest in any festive prompts and i'll gladly write a starter for you! for any action for the battling portion of the event, i have an open top level here! ]

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.

Mikasa Ackerman | Attack on Titan | OTA

[stopfen]

Festivities
[She'd not been planning on coming. She had better things to do, like garden, tend to those new chickens she'd been left with. Just do what jobs she could while she was on crutches. As annoying as they were, but she could still only walk a few steps without them. But Mettaton...Her oldest friend in this place had asked, and she'd been lonely with the loss of her first bond and boyfriend, so she'd given in. Sullenly hobbling behind the puca.

And with her appearance, that made the whole experience a chore. Apparently, fae were a rarity here. Enough that she got the occasional question...Really odd questions? Most notably was one young shopper, who with very little thought had stopped in front of the fae. Mikasa had nearly bumped into the drunken guy, who'd lifted a tray from a stall, much to the ire of the stall owner. Asking her to touch the tray, prove it was iron like the seller said.

...At least the kids that pointed and asked what she was at least had the decency of being cute and not knowing better.

Those same kids...They lulled her in with their big, pleading eyes. Did this really count as playing? She couldn't run or take part properly. Only watch as they flung dark bedsheets on people, before one shot a firework at them. Mikasa wasn't easy to startle, not most of the time.

But the sudden bang makes her jolt slightly. Her left arm reaching to grab one of the children, pulling them behind her at the bang. Gunshots? It's a small flurry of activity, the fae's antenna and wings flicking, working out the where and how to escape.

The children...Bless their little hearts, only make a vow of protection to the injured fae. Some grouping near her, some charging at their targeted 'bad guy'.]

Guests - Potential CW for fighting things (Intentionally left vague)
[Cool, cool... So apparently. The people who just showed up really, really, really didn't like monsters. Mikasa had already gathered that from how the residents of the city spoke and how it'd been before. What she hadn't known, was that the reason for the local children's stares, was because these people had killed all of the fae that had been local to the area.

Which meant they were pretty good at tracking them down, killing them, knowing what did the most damage. She'd been moved to safety for a short while, in a clash of scales and teeth. Stealing her away and into a safe location.

A location that gotten less safe the longer the fighting went on. Mikasa couldn't fight though, not properly on her leg and she only had a small knife on her. She was...unsure. She didn't want to leave the fighting. But what use was she? It's while she's musing it over that she notices it. It was faint thing hidden in the ashes, floating through the sky, iron powder. It didn't hurt Mikasa, not yet, the enchantment on her ears kicking in. The magic starting to drain as she was in contact with the iron. Even if she'd had her scarf to cover her face it wouldn't have helped, the fine dust seeping into the seams of her chitin

It spurs her into trying to move. But...crutches.

Even with her wings to give her little bursts of speed. She was a slow and easy target. One they really wanted dead, just for existing. Why was this familiar? The escort mission begins...And she only had a simple knife meant more for pruning plants and basic illusions to her name. Given enough time she might be able to make a barrier, but what good would that do with the dust?]

Aftermath CW - some body horror
[Mikasa wasn't faring well. Sitting sullenly in a corner where the air was clear, a too-large blanket wrapped over her as she shook and choked on air. Every breath making an audible wheeze. Except for healers, she'd be clutching the blanket close to herself. Leaving the small iron burns on her face as her only visible injury.]

Wildcard
[Anything not listed or whatever. o7]

Rude | Final Fantiasy VII | OTA

[grandspark]

I. Festivities

[Rude didn't show for the first few days but he had time. He wasn't really interested in the actual merry-making anyway. Instead, the Turk was curious to learn more about the city and it's history. Now was a good time to learn a bit more about it, especially with the guided tours going on.

During the day, in fact, that's where he spent most of his time. Sure, it was touristy but he learned a few things. After all, this was only really his second time around this way and he hadn't lingered in the city much due to the job he'd taken that time. Now he took the time to memorize the streets and study the people that lived here.

At night the bald man found a family friendly pub with good drink and decent food to sit in a corner and people watch. The only exception being the last night while he watched the fireworks outside.]

II. Uninvited Guests

[Rude was surprised when the attack came but not so much that it showed. In fact, underneath his typical stoic expression there seemed to be a slight air of exasperation. Like this just figured more than anything else.

By now he had heard who the witch was at least and understood a little about what was going on. But what really mattered at the moment was simply staying alive. Monsters and attackers were all around. Fires burned, though he realized at some point that those didn't seem to bother him at all. He'd always favorited the element of Fire but now it was almost pleasant rather than not bothersome at all. Still, he recognized that they weren't good for the city.

However, he had other issues to deal with first. Like the undead that were in front of him, being issued commands by two necromancers in the background. He needed to get to them to stop the onslaught from heading his way. His fists were ready to go through the skeletons and zombies as he made his way towards the magic users in the back with no remorse.]

III. Wildcard

[Any other situation to stick Rude into, plop it on right here! A familiar redheaded harpie came with him so people might have seen him with Reno at times during the festivities but threads will lack his partner for now. During the attack he will be looking for Reno trying to hook back up with him. PM or plurk @ AisuYoukai if you wanna chat for any reason.]

ozymandias | witch | ota

[fulgency]

i. aerial support

[As far as Ozymandias is concerned, mercy was wasted upon the likes of these Witches. And so, while it was not a mistake of his own, it is not one he intends to repeat. He will not be satisfied with merely incapacitating them, rounding them back up and placing them neatly into their little prisons. Something like this requires far more extreme measures.]

[Ozymandias does not allow himself to be shocked by the spellwork that's suddenly cast upon the citizens of Dorchacht. As bodies begin to slump and drop wherever they once stood or sat, Ozymandias moves forward to summon one of his sphinxes. As the creature manifests, its wings unfurl and Ozymandias hops upon its back in a smooth motion to take to the skies to quickly reach the fringes where Morgana's loyal and controlled are beginning their assault on the vulnerable. While above, Ozymandias strikes the ground with white-hot, light that scorches the earth. It serves as either barrier to prevent an oncoming projectile or a very quick means of ending a conflict. But a fight like this can only remain impersonal in this way for so long.]

[Spotting one of the resurrected Nuckelavee closing in on a fellow Mirrorbound, Ozymandias redirects the sphinx to make its rapid descent. Moments before impact, he jumps off the sphinx's back, using a spell to slow his own descent. The sphinx leaps upon the Nuckelavee, though the collision of the two great beasts and the subsequent grappling to get the other pinned to the ground is far from muffling the horrid screech and wailing of the undead creature. By comparison, Ozymandias' touchdown seconds later is far gentler.]

ii. bring out your dead

I have this. Deal with him.

[The trouble with necromancers in battle is that there is always fodder nearby for them. Particularly when not all are able to fight for themselves and it is impossible to protect them all. Familiar faces that were once joyous in their celebrations of their hard-won liberation are propelled along by the necromancer's magic alongside those that would fall apart were it not for that same magic.]

[It feels as though he is damning them to a worse fate than that which the necromancer has inflicted upon them to destroy their bodies. So, he refuses to do that. Even to the poor, unfortunate creatures that had long-since succumbed to infection and lost perhaps all sense of themselves to the madness of the Cwyld. But they must be dealt with in order to take down the necromancer who pulls their strings, and so, Ozymandias is comfortable with holding the figurative line while his compatriot contends with the mind-controlled necromancer.]

[Even if he is a bit outnumbered 3 to 1.]

iii. sleep? never heard of her

[Whatever injuries he might have incurred during the battle,Ozymandias only allows for cursory treatment for now. It is enough that nothing bleeds and nothing aches beyond what's manageable. He watches silently for a moment as the next line of captives are brought forth for questioning by Aefenglom's Coven before scoffing quietly.]

They waste their time. Even if Morgana was the sort to share her machinations with those within her service, they are unlikely to ever betray her willingly.

[He steps away, feeling he has had long enough of a rest when there is so much more that needs to be done. The fires still burn in the distance, their smoke and ash carrying. The dead still need to be documented for later identification when the citizens of the slumbering city awaken once more. And there are still plenty of those who need to be brought inside, safe from the elements or a potential second strike (although Ozymandias doubts the latter to be likely so soon after).]

Antonio Salieri | chimera | ota

[amurder]

I. Join the Fun.
[It had been some time since Salieri allowed himself to relax within the company of several celebrating strangers. The whole thing brings about a mood of quiet contemplating for him— one that surrounds him with an air of moodiness that not even the children's pealing laughter can shake off. Of course, that's not to say he isn't trying to put a damper on the evening. No, one can surely find Salieri and all his terrible Chimera self aiding with the music and dance of the plays. Someone had shoved a guitar into his arms and a minute later he was strumming away, humming along with the rest of the band, an underlining harmony steadily joining the flow.

Salieri notices you then, and in a brief moment of repose he extends the instrument your way.] Would you like to try?

[Whether you're proficient or not hardly matters. He's looking at you very expectantly!]

II. Battle on the Streets
[It was, at first, a mere thought that things were going far too well.

He hardly thinks to curse that time now, when he looked over the smiling crowds and wondered if such precarious happiness would continue to last. He's not always so pessimistic, but with the way this world seems to give and take— to flourish and to burn... it was hard not to doubt.

Now Salieri wonders why he bothered.

Morgana's magic is like heat rising from fractured volcanic grounds. It bristles his fur and sends a restlessness throughout his entire being. There's an inherent need to defend his own— to protect his Bonded, their home and their neighbors. But once he realizes the impact of their attack and the true victims behind it— well... he simply cannot let it lie.

One can find Salieri aiding in the efforts to keep the amount of aggressive dead to a minimum. Fire licks at his claws each time he sends out an attack and brings down yet another shambling dead Monster. To know these were once fellow inhabitants of their city does nothing to quell the growing frustration and disgust rising in his chest. Not even the dead can rest here. Not even the dead are safe.

There's suddenly the sound of a rifle firing quite close to you— enough that you may feel compelled to run or dodge. Soon there's another and another—

A necromancer falls near your feet. Hovering close is a strange white-cloaked familiar floating a few feet off the ground. Strange skeletal arms protrude from their cloaks, but perhaps even stranger are the rifles they seem to wield with ease. The familiar seems to acknowledge you and gives a cordial little wave.

Salieri approaches, looking worn out but otherwise mostly unscathed.] Ah, apologies if you were startled. Pay no mind to them.

Are you injured? [Turns out there's quite a few of these floating guys around! And maybe thankfully, since it seems there are more dead still stalking about in search of sleeping victims.]

III. Wildcard.
[You can find Salieri either attempting to protect the sleeping residents or carrying a few to safer places. He'll be using both his Servant abilities as well as his Chimera fire abilities to keep the necromancers and their muscle at bay, so feel free to message for any ideas or simply leave a starter here!]

Styx | Witch | ota

[tothemetal]

one;

[this is it! the day that all of the children (and Styx, honestly) have been waiting for! he's been going nonstop in the week preceding the festivities, helping both with the rehearsals as well as set construction - at least as far as carrying and hoisting was concerned. honestly it feels as though he's the only who's going to be up onstage now, even though he'll only be down in the music pit with the other performers. it's a pleasantly familiar set of jitters hopping about in his stomach, and he welcomes them with open arms.

although he's down in the pit for the entirety of the play, any member of the audience would still have an easy time picking Styx out during the show; his head peeks out past the pit by quite a few inches, and the starry cloak he'd picked up during the celebration shimmers and flutters with every decisive crash of his drums. he's putting far too much effort into a children's play than is necessary by far, but is that such a bad thing? everyone deserves to feel like their efforts are valued.

when the show is over he's up and moving almost instantly, probably terrifying some of the attendees by hauling his massive self out of the pit rather than taking the stairs in order to descend upon the little actors with a proud cry.]

Guys, that was killer! You did so good!

[he's scooping up several of the young performers in short order, their costume and his cloak flapping about and probably smacking anyone too close as he spins them around cheerfully. thankfully he notices before the clothing can completely wrap around the other person and both literally and figuratively strangle them with his joy. stepping back slightly and allowing the little scamps in his arms to scramble back to the floor, he beams cheerfully.]

Hey, what'd you think of the play? They really nailed it out there, yeah?


two;

[Styx hasn't really lost anyone in his life, not really. his mother had passed when he was just barely out of the realm of toddlerhood, leaving him with so few memories of her that he could no longer recall her face...and that was it. friends had come and gone, but no deaths or traumatic partings. just the ebb and flow of life.

still, he's attracted to the wreath-making by the delicate blooms and distinctive color of the flowers. although the big guy half-heartedly tries to protest that he's too clumsy to fashion such a beautiful object himself, the natives will hear no such thing; after a little bit of kind instruction he's all set up, creating what is actually a pretty nice wreath for all of the clumsiness that big fingers bring with them.

the scent is supposed to recall lost companions, and with no one 'lost' to him Styx really isn't expecting much when he takes a deep breath of that heady aroma upon completion...big mistake. he experiences quite a few things (and maybe you do too, if you're near enough) - the view of an audience from onstage and the backs of two other men playing their hearts out, the smell of tea brewing while a Turkish drama plays in the other room, a motherly caress and soft lullaby, among others - and without realizing it brings tears to his eyes.

it wasn't so much a person that had been lost, he realizes, but a home.

trying to scoot backwards in his chair and hide his crying while it was still in the early stages, Styx's gigantic knee slams into the table and ends up knocking a decent portion of its contents to the ground, including (surely) some of the things other people nearby were working on. ah, shit.]

Sorry, didn't mean to - was just, um...

[he's trying to duck now and pick everything up, but in the process has banged into the table again thanks to his tear-blurred eyes. this is just a mess.]


wildcard;

[come at me!! Styx is going to be involved in both the fighting and cleanup of Morgana's invasion, so feel free to write anything you like involving either if that's your fancy. ovo if you'd like me to write you a custom starter or want to do something else, feel free to hit me up via PM or at phantomblood. I'm super down!]

Thancred Waters | harpy | ota

[wordsinthesoul]

1. Freedom Festivities

a. Join the Fun
[Freedom for the city, here…. He can't help but chuckle a little at the celebrations, letting some of the children pull him into a play of revolution.]

Ah, you need someone to help you in the battle? But I don't think I could be the only one there… Perhaps you might join us?

b. Forget-Me-Not
[He's made more flower crowns here than he can ever remember making back in Eorzea. He's in the process of making one himself, but he'll glance up if someone seems interesting.]

This isn't quite the memorial I expected these would be used for, but… It is relaxing.

[He doesn't seem particularly aware of it for now, but the fragrance of the flowers does evoke a memory of teasing Minfilia in the Waking Sands over a novel, and being teased right back.]

2. Uninvited Guests

[The moment he realises Morgana Drummond is back Thancred bristles, every feather slowly puffing to increase his apparent size. Of course it's not over without a body- of course it'd be on the anniversary, and she'd leave them no way of getting to her. He eyes her the whole time, fists clenched- jerks away as the sleeping spell goes off. …at least the Mirrorbound aren't affected, but that the people of Dorchacht are-]

We need to find what's coming, and stop them.

[He starts off running, but takes to the air soon enough- he's no plans to be caught on the ground. While it doesn't best suit his melee skills, he can- and does- dive in, attempting to land wounds where he can.

Given the necromancers seem to be in control of some of the monsters, taking them out seems as though it ought to help.]

Let me see if I can't make an opening. As soon as you're ready-

[This song is meant to lower their guard, even disorientate- but he'll need someone there while he's focused on that.]

4. Aftermath

[At the end of the fighting, Thancred drags a little more energy out of himself to help bring those sleeping to a safer location. Once that's more or less done, he slumps, staring at the ground for a moment. What could they have done to stop this…? Could they have known…?]

…we can't leave her this time. [There's no doubt about that.] But- what of everyone here?