Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part 1

[faileas]

Event Log: January, The Salvation of Geardagas: Part 1

The Evergreen Circle Something is happening in Aefenglom. A rash of disappearances has finally caught the attention of the authorities, but only thanks to a strange twist: a handful of the missing individuals are starting to turn up again, and not as they should be. It began with a harpy. After a week of nothing she returned, fully transformed into a Shade and too far gone to save. The same happened with a trader the next day. And the next with a witch. All three were infected, albeit to varying degrees, and only one of them was able to be brought back from the brink. Naturally, this is a huge cause for concern. There's little sign that the Bright Wall is damaged and none of the victims were known to have left the city. Questioning the survivor, Owain, doesn't produce any leads either as he can't remember anything before his disappearance. It's only after he's had some time to recover that he notices something off. As the blackening of the Cwyld fades, a small tattoo on his palm that wasn't there before becomes visible. To the concern of the Coven, it's a symbol that's familiar to them as the emblem of a rising spiritual movement favoured by the wealthy called the Evergreen Circle, led by a witch called Cillian Alder. Their purpose, he claims, is to provide hope through interrogating the Cwyld from a scholarly and philosophical perspective. In spite of this, Alder has developed more of a cult-like following than anything. Mirrorbound of standing (business owners, members of parliament, public figures, etc) might have already received one of their pamphlets. Naturally, it's an incredibly sensitive subject. The Evergreen Circle has been entirely peaceful up until now, and with such influential and powerful figures among its numbers, the Coven is reluctant to make any outright accusations. Instead, the task of investigating them has been covertly passed to the Mirrorbound. As outsiders, they stand less of a chance of causing political unrest. However, they explicitly warn against taking any hostile actions for the time being: this is an information-gathering request, nothing more. They can provide basic information about the Evergreen Circle meetings but that's about it. a. Preaching to the Choir (Every Friday Evening, Mid-Ieneuer to Early Feoveuer) Cillian Alder Art by Rachel The hall is buzzing. Though there aren't even enough people here to fill the place, everyone seems to be bubbling with excitement, exchanging loud greetings and introductions. They're particularly friendly to newcomers and are quick to offer up their experiences with the group: "Cillian is a truly free thinker!" "I haven't felt so positive about our future for a long time." "There’s a real sense of hope and community here in the Circle." The meeting convenes at 8 o’clock sharp and silence descends upon the room as a figure takes the stage. With his commanding presence and charismatic smile there's no doubt about who this is: Cillian Alder. A man in his late fifties with greying hair, he speaks with an accent crisp as cut glass and a strong voice, no doubt amplified by some kind of spell to reach around the room. He's hypnotising, those cool blue eyes of his impossible to look away from and piercing in their intensity. "How wonderful to see you all tonight, both familiar and unfamiliar faces alike! You are all welcome. I have only one request." He brings his hands together with a smile. "That you keep your hearts open. How else might our minds grow Evergreen?" Alder's speech is nothing if not passionate. He paces and proselytises, responding to the audience's interruptions and cheers with enormous enthusiasm. Throughout, his message is clear. "Who are we to immediately decry the Cwyld as a curse? Fear of the unknown, of what we have yet to control, can only hold us back! We must instead seek to understand it and be at peace with its presence! This is a test of our conviction! Our will to survive!" It goes on for the better part of an hour and, afterwards, he descends into the audience to receive their praise and questions with the gracious smile of a beloved king. He might even turn that magnanimous presence on you, affording you a few crucial moments of conversation (limited to 2 RNG characters). Will you stick around to find out more or try and slip backstage while everyone is distracted? For such a warm, welcoming atmosphere, there seems to be a lot of security around the doors leading back there so it might take some quick thinking to get through without conflict. Those who are caught will have to face the consequences, but the results might be… unfavorable. b. Spirited Away (late-Ieneuer to mid Feoveuer) Those less inclined to subterfuge won't have any problems finding trouble to get into either. As the month goes on, more and more people disappear, and that might even include Mirrorbound. Whether you're intercepting a kidnapping or fighting off your own, you're more likely to get caught up in it the longer the month goes on. It's easy enough to fight off the attackers but nigh impossible to actually catch or identify one: each is dressed in black and smells of the tell-tale decay of the Cwyld. But even assuming you do manage to apprehend one, they will refuse to talk in anything but vague, confusing comments about salvation and new beginnings. c. Cast Out (mid-Ieneuer to early Feoveuer) Likewise, the number of locals who have been abducted and released continues to rise. The victims, anywhere from badly infected to fully transformed into Shades, require subduing, healing and, in the most dire of circumstances, permanently dealt with before they can hurt anyone. Without exception, they're aggressive, reacting violently to attempts to heal as well as harm them and there are no discernable patterns when it comes to victims. However, the eagle-eyed might spot the Evergreen Circle's symbol on some of their palms if they're not too heavily corrupted.

[ ooc: More information about the event can be found on the plotting post along with comments for questions, and RNG sign-ups for directly interacting with Alder! ]

Comments

[tothemetal]

[in the throes of the group's assault, Styx couldn't say how much time has passed between that desperate cry and the crackle of magic heralding his bond's arrival. he must have attracted these people's interest before today, painting a redder target on his back with every shade he'd subdued. why else would there be so many of them, just to take a lonesome man? they knew his prodigious size already.

it's...overwhelming. adrenaline has pumped through his body long enough to dull the blow to his skull down to a manageable ache, but there's still so much to defend against that the witch can feel himself slipping deeper and deeper beneath the water with every second that passes.

he's activated his bracelet by now, slammed against a wall to trigger the armor with a mind too distracted for even that much. the tangible presence of his bonded anchors him, providing bravery to draw upon even as Eren himself still travels towards him; it's all that's prevented him from crumpling thus far, a reminder to hold fast until the tides have turned.

the mark of the dragon spurs him on, but it also informs his attackers of a great vulnerability. Styx runs hot as the sun, scorching with the same intensity of his lightning - and so they chill his embers with more bolts of ice, slamming into scales never meant to feel winter's wrath. he stumbles on the occasion his lumbering body cannot dodge in time, providing them the opportunity to press in closer, and -

and there his greatest weakness of all is exposed. the consequences of failure here are well known to the drummer, and yet no matter how valiantly he struggles he can never quite banish the face of that accomplice who'd led him to this doomed alley. she was sick. they were all sick. that couldn't be faked the way kindness could. the knowledge shackles him in a way nothing else can, preventing him from retaliating at full force. blows fall harder and harder upon his body, but Styx still can't lose himself to the red world. these people...maybe they could still be saved? if he struck a fatal blow to even one, that possibility was lost forever.

oh, his heart really was too soft.

but his dragon...he was fire and brimstone. Styx can feel his arrival before the world itself understands what's been unleashed, gaze instinctively departing from the fray to watch what can only be a glorious appearance - unwise, perhaps, with a naga so close to wrapping powerful coils around his legs, but he no longer carries fear in his heart. a thrum of relief runs through their connection instead, of joy, the charged embrace he cannot give him in reality yet.]

Eren.

[his other half was here. made whole, there was nothing that could stand in their way.]

[autotome]

[ bonds were completions; bonds complimented each other. where one was weak, the other would supply. when one was destabilized, the other would anchor. just as styx’s heart bled for his attackers with mercy— eren’s throat charged with molten light, his teeth and exposed molars crackling with the dances of his witch’s element. he feels styx desire to aid these people and comprehends it.

but he doesn’t follow it, neither does he accept it as his own. they say that onslaught is about intention. eren feels no hate toward his friend’s aggressors, no anger against them or their desire to do what they think is right. his anger is draconic, born from the imprisonment being enacted right before his eyes. who was eren to change their minds, though? his bubbling rage redirects to an eerie repose of being fully aware of what he must do if he wants to save someone he loves. it is spoken through the saving clutch that flows to his bond and reminds him to quell, but do not stop, stay awake, leave the rest in his claws. if they want to take your freedom, i’ll take theirs..

his fiery maw extends into a split so wide it’s sickening, and to scatter the cultists surrounding styx, the naga’s constriction included, the blitz of electricity sparks the start of a cascading blaze of fire upon them. it washes over eren’s witch and the scales that protect his every corner like the flow of water, except— it was hot. it was only redness and light and hell on cobblestone. the only thing keeping the alleyway standing were the rock walls the fire licked off of as it built a mushroom of embers seeking the skies above.

eren didn’t know how many were left after that, but he wouldn’t wait to see. witches were powerful, and with enough experience could escape the dropped pool of destructive heat if they were fast enough to form their shields or slip out of sight. perhaps those who hadn’t been prepared for him to douse his own bonded (done only because he knew he was protected) weren’t so lucky. even whilst missing one of his hind limbs, a healing stump that his knee took the most impact from, the dragon crawls quickly down the steaming walls that surrounded the alleyway— his most powerful assets, his wings, were longer, bulkier, and responsible for his bat-like descaling of the building at post haste, with the speed of a slithering snake if it were ever granted limbs.

the one’s that did stay behind, if any, were in for trouble. ]

[tothemetal]

[leave it to me. he would. without a thought or qualm, Styx places himself in his bond's claws. trust was the fabric which wove this connection together and, more than anything, the drummer believes in Eren. the dragon would make the right choice - one they both knew his companion was incapable of acting upon.

hell itself descends upon him from the dragon's mouth, but the drummer doesn't so much as flinch. he can hear the others around him screaming (in alarm, in pain) and the coiled muscle holding him in place slackening, but the only true thought in his mind was how fucking comforting this cascade felt. he was swaddled in blankets on the floor of his bedroom again, far from the throbbing pain in his bones...

the naga writhes on the ground by his feet, its own scales only able to halve the damage rained down from above - alive, but suffering deeply. its tail tip jostles against Styx and pulls him back into reality, out of the warm sanctuary Eren's blessing had granted him.

...right. he'd passed the battle on to his bonded's judgement, but he wasn't some idle piece on the board. battered though he may be, the witch was still determined to contribute.

the assailants' numbers had been halved in the initial onslaught, many (given the still forms on the ground) having been removed unwillingly from the fight. those who remained appeared determined to dig themselves in regardless of the panicked undercurrent running through the alleyway, if only to keep a lid on their activities. noise could be muffled by a spell, but the sudden burgeoning of fire climbing heavenward...well. they'd need to act quickly to prevent prying eyes from finding anything worth investigating.

Styx has no interest in giving them that chance. he lumbers forward from the spot he'd formerly been locked into, close enough to lay down a barrier to help cover Eren's descent. it wouldn't need to last long, not at the speed his bonded was moving, but these people must already know what element would devastate the most - unimportant now.

let them try and skewer his friend. it was only delaying the inevitable.]

[autotome]

[ whether it was ice or water beginning to whip his way, styx had him covered from the totality of the blows, and smaller chips escaping through blind spots and holes bounced off the gleaming spells embedded in the dragon’s hide— an orange, skeletal frame among a black black shadow and strokes of sky blue was what preyed on the remaining stragglers. even spells that twisted the wind to carry the smoke was at most visible to the prying eyes below and the apartments hit the hardest. soon, onlookers will go to their windows, or those down the next street over will investigate the heat of a fire and the snarls of a monster . . .

eren’s first focus was on the naga. at one moment it was there, writhing and slinking it’s musculature into escape, no, maybe to take this witch at last, they were so close— oh how eren had wanted to eat it. how he wanted to make it disappear from this world, feel the mix of dry scales and scorched muscle slip down his throat and hit his belly. he’s never had naga. the meat looked firm yet savory—

but it’s the first time eren finds the pit in him to refrain, the call of his bond and a memory of months ago making him think of the consequences. he could eat this monster and its family and friends would wail for its whereabouts. he could get convicted again, punished once more, and nothing would have changed for him, from someone who pleads so much for himself to see change. — how much that had affected styx for lacking the strength to reel the wyvern into same ground. balance. there must be balance for everything— at least, that’s what he wants. there’re already motionless bodies on the ground that he didn’t know the status of, and if those were to add to any casualties, now, there were witnesses.

the dragon’s jaws pop with electricity and snap at the remainders. the naga would suffer its tremendous burns that still lingered on the reason of self defense from a crime, so there it would stay. before eren could bluff one more fiery, electrifying snap of his teeth, he pries any more holds on his bonded, and in contrast, gently brings his talons to the witch’s feet, a protective coil in front of his middle and his wings in a flare at his side. eren’s spiny tail tip drags to their front in a complete semi-circle, rattling, rattling, rattling like an angry serpent warning his strike. his neck does the same— a compact, hovering S formation that impends a violent second choice of the first wasn’t adhered.

he only doesn’t harm them further for styx’s sake— which may seem to be enough. just in time for street guards to be on their way. ]

[tothemetal]

[it's more than enough.

the witch rests a hand on the limbs shielding him now, leaning more heavily than even he realizes. adrenaline can only take a body so far. gratitude seeps in between the cracks, any extra mental energy the man possesses funneled towards that emotion and little else. it's belief realized, after all. he knew, knew that Eren could change. even something as small (monumental when he looks at it) as this...it's enough that his leg doesn't ache quite so terribly.

weary joy can only fly so far, of course, and the drummer truly has taken a beaten during this onslaught. he allows his dragon to handle the offensive - not that there's very much left to handle after such a devastating display. of the foes still on their feet only a scant few dare approach within range of even elemental bolts, heedful of the warning percussion. Styx funnels his remaining magic into keeping protective spells up; a second layer to his mental embrace.

oh...there were noises filtering in through the alleyway. cries, organized alarm - someone in authority? it's difficult to discern through the smoke and shouting of those already present but he thinks...yes, the other witches seem to be trying to pull back now. it must be a threat of discovery in some way.

one of them was looking at Eren so intently, though, that for a few moments the drummer's anxiety spikes in fear she's about to launch something awful his friend's way. but nothing comes of it, which bothers him more. what had that been about? thinking better of some petty vengeance? he hoped so.

speaking of...it hurts quite a bit to stretch up so high, but Styx does so all the same to reach the dragon's coiling neck and gently divert attention. he's not sure how far his voice will carry with the hiss of embers still snapping intermittently.]

Are you gonna be in trouble?

[worry tugs at his expression now. the last time his friend had rattled the streets hasn't progressed to the point of distant memory just yet, and Styx wonders - had he made things more difficult for Eren like this? his tender heart prefers to remain and see if he can still help the down forms somehow, but if fleeing would keep his own bonded safe from repercussions of the witch's own making...well, there was really no contest.]

[autotome]

[ eren too, was caught in a silent exchange that meant death to his observer. long and challenging, daring even, to keep at it or try such a foolhardy attempt again and the dragon's tongue, blue and flitting, promises that he'll remember what her aroma tastes like. it's silent and lacks a growl, but it's the worst kind of threat— the reticent kind that begins to dip into the murkiness in eren's heart. a mist of something that was very, very awful.

styx does well in calling him back, at first only with feeling right before his voice sounds; he's heard like a close ranged pop, and eren's lowers his skull to better accommodate his witch, keep him off his painful bruises. the dragon's third eyelids slide across his eyes, where thin pin-slits of a predatory had filled once he nudged his snout into the drummer's arms. all gentle, even his erect spins have begun to flatten more like hairs than agitated needles.

his voice comes then like the start of a storm in a compact space: a combination of drums, hisses and crackles forms inhuman words from a beast. ]

We'll claim Defense of Other.

[ until then— he doesn't mind waiting on the spot for the authorities to arrive. he wasn't hiding anything, only the truth splayed out before the guards: a charred naga, some casualties or maybe some even barely hanging on that could be saved, but no overkill (eren thinks, at least), all born from an assault on his bonded perfectly painted by his bleeding and bruises. they could cast lie detectors, sift through memory, and will find everything in their favor. ]

You're a witness— no one else was hurt except you and the attackers. [ and with a brash snort, with a more concentrated hug without hurting him, ] They'll never touch you again.

[tothemetal]

[the relief that Eren had been allowed a small taste of earlier floods through their connection now, the sort of deep warmth that can be felt in one's bones. now that immediate danger has passed Styx can take full comfort in his dragon's presence; that voice like doom itself is a familiar earthquake, pleasant vibrations encouraging the giant to lean affectionately against his friend's skull. it's good to shift his weight somewhere else, but it's better that 'somewhere else' is his bond.]

Yeah, right? 's not like anybody else came down while it happened.

[there was no need to be guilty for calling out for help, then. oh, it pulls more pain from his tender body than any healer would be capable of. they can wait safely, then, and prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Eren was making strides to improve himself.

and if they're waiting...Styx throws his arms around the dragon a little more in earnest, returning the embrace with a grateful hum. heads together, best as they could with such a vast difference in size between them now...like this he can believe that promise absolutely.]

's kinda my fault anyway, I thought...looked like they needed help, 'nd then there were a lot.

[apologetic and a little sheepish. he'd never thought to have attracted that sort of attention even with his size and actions against the infected. maybe they'd been able to tell what a gullible mark he was, just from appearances.]

I'm glad you came.

[he'd known Eren would, but even so - what a beauty his appearance had been, right when he'd been needed most. it brought deep feeling to those simple words.]

[autotome]

[ believe it or not, styx's forehead fits. right between the middle of the dragon's eyes and small compared to the crown of four blue horns like diamonds that curved above him. eren's size rivaled the largest of horses and had been close to a juvenile elephant, but any press was welcomed, his forehead, specifically, was a tender and loving spot that made the wyvern's next exhale an inviting purr. ]

I'm glad I was able to. [ all the more thanks to the tattoo still pulsing a deep glow where his heart should be as the charge faded into dull ink. he had more questions, but seems like the guards and the witches with them come foremost. eren encourages styx to talk to them with a prod and keep of the bone at the first bend of his arm wing, but he hadn't wanted to stray from the drummer's side for even a step. ] I'll take us up when you're done.

[ where the wind could kiss their faces clean and the sky could give them some freedom. ]

[tothemetal]

[if not for the pulse of their connection Styx might have felt like a child, clinging fast to his bond even as they moved to finally meet those most alarmed authorities. but there was no shame in wanting comfort, even less so when that closeness was so obviously a mutual desire. the real difficulty is in pulling himself out from that protective forest of crystal horns...he really just wants to remain like this, feeling the soft vibrations of Eren's breath.

he's still leaning against the dragon as he relates what had happened - slow and stumbling over his details at times, apologizing over and over. the worries appear to be for everyone but himself: how many times does he repeat that Eren came to help him, or ask if they needed his help in healing the downed attackers? and yet it's one of the witches that gently points out the big guy was probably more in need of a little healing than anyone else here.

it feels a little selfish to accept, but his head hurts something fierce. the presence of so many people is starting to wear on Styx at last, adrenaline completely eroded by now, and so he can really only keep himself still for a cursory treatment. just enough to dull his aches, to give him the mental clarity to answer any questions his bondmate might have of his own.

his bondmate who, coincidentally, will be feeling the pull to rise skyward even before Styx quietly makes the request of him. freedom is definitely a concept he's borrowing from their connection to mean an escape from the claustrophobic pressures of this alleyway.]

Um...you think 's ok to go now?

[no one was in trouble, he didn't think, and he'd given his place of residence if they needed him again...the drummer's hand squeezes Eren with a fatigued sort of hope.]

[autotome]

[ the whole while, eren would certainly accompany from a more than comfortable distance. is styx wanted to lean on him, he could. if he was feeling cornered, eren's heated nostrils press close to his back and breath out to remind him of the physical proximity. encouraging styx in getting fixed up on a provisional heal had been his first and only push away from him, but pressed into his thoughts against the ache was the soothing heat of a dragon's heart keeping him optimistic.

because the sky up above was only waiting, and eren had been ready his whole life to take to them. ]

Think they have what they need.

[ eren didn't to tell him to get on when the intent was clear in feeling as it was physically tame. the dragon's snout encourages his bonded's torso to move over to his folded wings already dipped into an angle that could work as a staircase. once the witch's leg is off the ground, eren gives his other a boost with the flatter surface of his skull until he'd secure his hold on his spines. alleyoop! ]

Just worry about what you need, now.