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Intro Log: November & Event: Nothing to Be Drone About It
I. ARRIVAL
A moment later, you feel a tug, and you find yourself stumbling into a dark, musty room. Behind you, a mirror stands ornately decorated with reminders of home wrought in brass and wood: the faces of people you know, and symbols important to you; all things that send a pang through your chest with the desire to return to them. Touching the mirror's surface does nothing but leave the stain of your fingerprints. When you turn to survey the room, you find there are hundreds of other mirrors. None of them are as decorated as yours - they're plain and dusty, speckled with age. Then you realize a second thing: You're not alone. Distantly, the ringing bell of a clocktower can be heard. But no matter its distance, the time is clear to make out: it chimes three times, stark, resonating like a pulse of something in this mirrored hall that you and others have found yourselves in, along with... several items, perhaps even creatures scattered across the floor around other mirrors? For those familiar with magic, they might feel the power of the witching hour upon them, though it will feel different from what they're used to - in fact, everything does. You're certainly not the only ones here, however. On the first floor, with the doors wide open behind them in the foyer, is a small group headed by two individuals. As people begin to arrive, to come from the higher floor, they're waiting - and they're waiting for you, and your questions. Explore the rest of the mirrored halls you've now found yourselves in, or proceed to the foyer? Leaving the Looking-Glass House makes it obvious that the clock striking three was for 3 AM - the night sky is faintly cloudy, but the stars are dim in the face of two moons. The Looking-Glass House is rather nondescript two-story cottage made of grey brick, sitting at the edge of The Coven's courtyard; stones which glow as you step on them mark the path to and from the two buildings. While fairly small and plain on the outside, the inside has been enchanted to be the size of a large library, with hundreds upon hundreds of mirrors hanging, standing, and resting inside its walls. Some are broken, some are cracked, and some seem completely uninjured - but all of them are just as plain as the cottage itself, showing age in the silver beneath their glass and in the greening of their metals... Well, all except a character's personal mirror; to characters, one mirror - the one they came through - will be decorated lavishly with metal-and-wood-wrought reminders of home, and the surface will be as clear as a brand-new mirror. |
II. THE WELCOME PARTY
"Just a few of you this month, hm? Don't mind the junk across the floor where you came out, someone is sorting that!" The woman sets her hands on her hips, with her Bonded casting a glance at those looking confused - newly arrived - and those who may have followed them in to talk to the newest addition of their mirrorbound bunch. "About time for introductions though- this here's Mhairi Ainsley, ambassador to the Parliament and my Bonded, and I'm Nerissa Bell, Head Witch of the Coven - but you can just call me Miss Nessie, you can," she adds, winking. "The lot of you must be as tired and confused as the last batch - hullo to those who've joined us, too! - so just a moment, dearests, I'll set all you right up—" With nothing more than a wave of her hand, rows of seats are summoned; despite their wooden nature, they're all sturdy and comfortable, filling the foyer and spreading out a ways into the lawn behind them, making room for all of the new arrivals as well as the previous batch. After all, they'll find this just as interesting. The Witches and Monsters that accompanied Nessie and Mhairi move to make room, and some disperse into the building itself to see if there's anyone who needs tending to. Mhairi steps forward as the chairs materialize. "Please, those who are able, join us for a moment. There are many questions that I'm sure you have - we will do our utmost best to answer them, and you may take any that we can't as a promise to find some sort of solution or answer." NOTE: If you wish to interact with Nessie and Mhairi, please comment here for a handwaved, summarized answer to your character's burning questions. For those that'd like a more player-based interaction, Aefenglom has its own Welcome Wagon! These are players who've volunteered for the role, and those that didn't sign up may assist as well if they'd feel their character would -- have fun, and make friends. Additionally, those with notable injuries or sickness will be attended to ASAP by Coven-based witches, and should anyone be curious about what they are - if they have magic potential, or if they swing a different way - then this can be done during this and the general hour or so the new arrivals are within the Coven's grounds. There are ongoing classes on magic, monsters, and Bonding as well, though they take place more during the day than at night - feel free to have your characters attend them at any time! |
III. THE HAVEN
As you're leaving with a few Bonded for guides, peculiar-looking devices - watches, the native Witches explain, compliments of Parliament - are passed around to all the new arrivals; they're given a quick rundown on their functions and bid to test them out when they can. They can even do it as they make their way out of the Coven's courtyard and to the Haven. Formerly part of the Aristocratic District, The Haven is just as well-kept and brightly-lit as the district it hails from. The houses err on the tall and ornamental-side, large enough to fit several families (or, according to the upper class, their one family, several dozen servants, and guests), especially closest to the Aristocratic District. They become a little more modest and smaller as one gets away from the realm of high society and nearer to the Residential District proper. Newcomers are shuffled here and invited to find somewhere to live - the Coven is currently handling expenses for the houses themselves in a program implemented by the Parliament, though if your character wishes to have anything extra - like maids, chefs, and so on - they'll have to pay for them themselves with their own earned money. Much of the landscape and fixtures are the same as in the Aristocratic Districts, though it lacks formal emergency services due to its roots as part of a district that already did. Much of the housing already has furnishing due to the speed at which homeowners were relocated; they were given enough time to collect their valuables, but standard furniture such as kitchenware, couches, beds, etc. were left behind for those moving in. Other houses appear the same, but the dust on the floors suggest these houses were left before the new arrivals even showed up - a reminder that the Cwyld can strike just about anyone, regardless of standing. Another portion of this district has been opened up to the new arrivals: the barracks, the row of buildings pressed against the very edge of the Bright Wall. As the city's military force no longer has the same presence it previously did, the barracks have gone into disuse, and a cleanup effort has been in place since before the new arrivals came through the Looking-Glass House. For those who desire something a little less opulent, the barracks might just be the answer. The barracks can also be used for business, for a welcome center, a communal space, for anything that the residents of the Haven see fit to use it for - so long as the legality isn't questionable, on the surface. To help with filling up the larger houses - and even some of the smaller ones, and the shared rooms in the barracks - the Witches put together a little roommate finding service, on a smaller scale from the grand opening of the Haven. For those who aren't entirely sure who they want to shack up with, they have a small survey for them to fill out and post on the board they've magicked up in the center of The Haven. The board also very helpfully reads aloud each form for everyone to hear in a cheerful, monotone voice. It isn't able to be shut up, nor is it easy to ignore, being imbued with a kind of amplification magic. It reads simply the information you've offered up yourself, or that someone might have written up for you, should that be their idea of fun. |
IV. Nothing to Be Drone About ItWhile a handful of mirrors in the Looking Glass House at 3 am on the 15th spat out people - new Mirrorbound or perhaps returned Mirrorbound - many other mirrors poured forth items or small creatures, all on their own. The night cleaner resigns himself to a long night as he has to deal with mess and confused folk, but he isn't terribly surprised. It was around this time last year that something similar happened with the mirrors. They may not understand it, but it looks like it may be a pattern, relics of the Mirrorbound's lives reaching out to them from home as gift or curse. The night cleaner fetches Miss Nessie to handle the arrival of a handful of new Mirrorbound, and then returns to start tidying up everything else. Luckily, she assigns him some help in the form of a young Witch named Emmelie, eager to prove herself. Not wanting to crowd the Looking Glass House, in the ensuing hours, she turns to an invention of hers to sort out the stuff littering the room with the mirrors. The goal, of course, is to get each item back to its rightful owner, and she firmly believes in better living through magic innovation! Unfortunately, it becomes clear fairly soon that Emmelie's brass flying saucers, which she had hoped would effortlessly deliver each item based on magical signature matching, could use a little... fine-tuning. The big saucers complete with six segmented mechanical 'arms' to hold the cargo in place are persistent as they zip around the city, often trying to take the shortest path to their programmed destination - whether it means they bump endlessly into barriers such as walls, get stuck on rooftops or in the River Temese, or knock over people, natives and Mirrorbound alike, who happen to be in their flight path. Some of them end up at the wrong Mirrorbound, and bump incessantly into them until they take the offered item, uncaring if they're who it belongs to or not. Of course, some deliveries go smoothly, exactly as they are intended to, but... they're in the minority. By the early afternoon, Emmelie is sending out a voice message that can be heard by Mirrorbound anywhere in the city, her young voice panicked as she explains what happened with her inventions and your mementos of home, adding at the end: "Ahh, it's such a mess! Look, you've got to help me, and please don't tell Miss Nessie, she'll never trust me with anything important ever again! I'll owe all of you so much if you'll just help find and return everything to where it needs to go!" |
Welcome to November's combo Intro Log and event! While mingling on the log itself is highly encouraged, feel free to make your own logs. The network system is free to use once characters have their watches as well; information on that can be found at the bottom of the Setting page, while any extra questions about it can be found in the FAQ index. Quests can be picked up as well right over here at November's Quest Pickup thread. Finally, if your character is getting into any Shenanigans, let the mods know and if you have any questions about the log, ask them here!
a
Mikasa owned little in the way of possessions and yet she'd nearly been run into by the machines that was delivering them. A few had paused near her for a moment then shook as if realising their mistake, then darted off again. Normally careening into a wall or bush as they went.
It made doing anything a nightmare. She'd attempted to work only for the drones to be an annoyance. She couldn't even walk Tater. The little dog went into hiding whenever the things drew close.
So the swear and the clattering of metal didn't startle her. Just the day's chaos, but then she spots the guy backed up against the wall. Hiding his face? That warrants a bit more investigation, so the mantis fae took a step closer. Letting a soft chirp slip out as she lifted a hand to reach for his shoulder.]
You okay? You sick?
[He might know the voice.]
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Mikasa certainly isn't the dark-haired person whose approach he'd been fearing, but her appearance does little to calm him. He shoves down a wave of intense discomfort, turning his gaze away and taking a few moments to collect himself.]
... fine.
[With how tense his whole posture is, fists clenched at his sides and shoulders still trembling slightly, he's clearly not fine. He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to return to the reality in front of him, although he still isn't looking at her when he tries to reinforce his assertion.]
It's... fine.
[Should that man be here... maybe then he'd be ill. But Ferran can handle a sword and a suit. He refuses to let those things alone have this much power over him.]
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Then he answered and the slight concern disappears into a line face.]
Right... [Did she even need to say that the face she'd pulled to show her doubt? It probably was but that didn't stop her.] You don't look fine. [Then finally she breaks her eyes away to look at the items on the floor. That sure was a lot of metal she didn't want to try touching.]
Did one of those things throw a sword at you? [Was that why he was shaken? A sword just falling out the sky seemed like a good reason to her.]
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Those extra arms he can see in his periphery are weird, but mostly fine. It's better if he doesn't focus on any of that, though—not that there's much better to think about, right now.]
Yeah, thanks...
[Thankfully, the metal is pure silver—making it frankly terrible in terms of durability, but the magic the items held in their native world made them more than sturdy enough to be useful. That magic may be gone here, but at least it means neither the blade nor sword are any immediate danger to either Fae.
His fists are still clenched, but his breaths are steadying as he stares intently at the set. They're just pieces of cloth, rock and metal. There's nothing they can do without their owner.]
Throwing... is a good way to put it.
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But with him slowly righting himself, Mikasa did as well. Those arms folding down against her back. Her gaze shifting to the items, giving the armour a light tap with her foot. That sure was a lot. Shiny too.
Not that she was an expert. Her gear had been well polished enough to shine in the days when she could touch it, and she'd never seen the finer metals. There had been a suggestion when she'd first arrived to get a weapon made of the stuff, but that was far beyond her means. Her poking concluded she rolled her shoulders.]
That means it wasn't thrown don't it? [If it 'was a good way to put it' that meant that hadn't been what had happened.] It gave you a lot though unless it really did just drop everything it had.
[And yet it seemed like she'd gotten nothing.]
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Dropped from that height in your direction has the same effect when it's a sword. Believe me.
[He can't just... leave it here. As much as he doesn't want it, he doesn't want anyone else to have the set, either—so he kneels down and snaps bag shut with a frustrated motion, locking the faint scent of cologne inside. As if the sight of it wasn't enough of a reminder of that man's betrayal...]
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What are you going to do with that lot? I've heard a lot of these things are going to the wrong people.
[The actual question of 'is that yours' isn't answered. The fae crossing her arms as she watched.]
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That seems to be the case.
[Mikasa certainly poses a good question, and his eyes slide over to the black blade, a look of bitter dread on his face. He takes a slow breath, but as much as he hates it... isn't this his responsibility? After all his failures? Even if the magic is gone from the set, the least he could do would be to keep Onyx's gem from falling into the wrong hands. Perhaps he could destroy them, but maybe they'll serve as a reminder not to make the same mistakes...]
I... can't let anyone else have them. Especially if the owner is here.
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Shouldn't they be going to the owner? [For a second she's silent again. Craning her neck to see if there's anyone else around. Antenna curling and flicking as she scented the air. Then she's lowering her voice to whisper to him once the coast is clear.] Or is it something they'd hurt someone to get?
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He would hurt someone to get them if they were any use to him.
[Granted, that may not be the case now—his own necklace lost all its magic when he came here, and the sense of magic he's had since coming to Aefenglom tells him there's nothing special about the blade or the armor. Regardless, it's more reason for him and him alone to keep them.]
And if he did... it wouldn't get any better from there.
[He takes up the blade from where he's kneeling and holds it up to look at it, careful not to point it at himself or the other Fae.]
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Even if the metal was bad, it'd still have an edge.]
What are you going to do with it then? Hide it? Guard it?
[It's blunt, her antenna flicking at each question. Unsure about this.]
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There's no guarantee someone else wouldn't find it and take it if I tried to hide it.
[Ferran doesn't know that he'd make much of a difference as any kind of a human shield himself—especially now that his offensive magic has been stripped from him—but he hates the idea of leaving it elsewhere, hidden or not.]
It's my responsibility... And at least if he came after me, I'd know. [And there's no way Onyx wouldn't find him if the man was actually here.]
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What good is you knowing about if you're dead?
[Then what? It's a very blunt question. She wasn't sure how skilled this guy was, but even if he was the best, everyone made mistakes.]
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His reply is firm, and he doesn't bother to lower the volume of his voice.]
I'll take care of it.
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Yeah, but how?
[What is being subtle. But really, it didn't seem like he had a plan. But what did she know? She wasn't much of a tactician, she could manage herself in a fight, but knowing where to place others. The responsibility of those lives. Mikasa couldn't think on that level.
But maybe this guy could.] Or is that your way of saying you have a plan? [And couldn't tell her because a plan was useless if the other person knew it.]
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I said I'll take care of it.
[He just barely manages to bite back a and frankly, it's none of your business—but he does grasp the blade's handle a little bit tighter as he turns to head down the street, the bag of armor over his shoulder. It's better not to stay out in the open with the circumstances that have been forced onto him, for one. If this place could just let him have his breakdowns privately, that would be a huge improvement.]
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So for a second, she's patiently waiting, watching. Being a busy body without realising her bluntness wasn't helping.]
Can-?
[But then he's moving, Mikasa staring at his back as he rushed off. Then lifting her hands a little.
...She better not hear about this guy being murdered later.]