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Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part 1
Event Log: January, The Salvation of Geardagas: Part 1
The Evergreen Circle
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.
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.
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.
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[ 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! ]
Killua Zoldyck | Hunter x Hunter | Witch
[ Having heard about the slew of disappearances lately -- and a little here and there to piece together that something like this has happened before, though not quite in this way -- Killua has been keeping an eye out for trouble the last couple of weeks. He saw the call on the Mirrorbounds' network for capable hands to help out, and since his schedule is quite flexible just doing odd jobs here and there, he's volunteered to walk some people home from work or shopping if they feel uncomfortable out alone.
He's heading to meet up with one such person who has put out a request for an escort. Spotting someone who looks like they're waiting and looking around, Killua walks up with a wave. It was all communicated through text, though, and they probably weren't expecting a teenager... if he's even pinpointed the right person. ]
Yo. You the one who wanted a buddy to walk home with?
ii. caught up in the drama
[ Cowards who kidnap people usually strike at night. But they seem to be getting more ambitious by the end of the month, and the cases reported daily in the papers seem to be alarmingly on the rise.
Killua still didn't expect anyone to strike in broad daylight. True, it's not like the Harbor district is particularly well-guarded, and when it comes to shadier types of characters, there are more to be found in rougher areas of the city like this one. But it's still a bit startling when Killua rounds a corner into an alley and catches a pair of black-robed weirdos right in the middle of subduing their next victim. ]
What the--?! Hey! Let them go!
[ He shouts a warning, a courtesy he doesn't give all people he's about to fight. Perhaps someone else hears, and would like to lend a hand?
Or maybe the one in need of a hand-lending is actually you. ]
(( ooc: Wildcard welcome! hmu via PM or over at
i + wildcard.
This is not the reason he's wandering the streets, though. The real reason is that his ever-growing tail has been a fucking bother. Sitting has been a bother. Riding more so. Which means he's been left to walk. He's given up on hiding the fluff of a tail that's visible on his ass. Jaskier has already tugged on it, and there's no point in pretending it's not there.
His first circle of the Shopping District, he spots Killua, easily with his shock of white hair. On his third circle, the boy is still there. Curious enough that he ends up coming over. (Besides, he hasn't looked in on Killua since he was told his friend had returned.) ]
Looking for someone?
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He glances over at the familiar voice, blinking when he sees Geralt, and his shoulders relax slightly. ]
I think I got ghosted.
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Friend or contract? [ He glances down the street. A little quieter these days. Reports of kidnappings have made some wary to stay out too long or too late into the evening.
He's been careful, too. The amount of heavy, powerful magic in this sphere and the number of those that possess it makes him wary whenever danger arises. ]
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Contract, I guess. Some lady put out a request asking for someone to walk her home, but maybe she found someone else and forgot to text me back.
I was here early so she probably didn't get kidnapped...
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He frowns. ] How much time between her request and your arrival?
[ If he's been here early enough and didn't see her leaving with anyone else, the probably grows less likely. Killua is sharp enough that he doesn't think someone he's watching for would walk out the front door unnoticed. ]
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[ He shrugs and sticks his hands back in his pockets, kicking at a snowbank sulkily. ]
Probably got out early and forgot to tell me, or forgot to cancel. Oh well.
If she got kidnapped for real, it's not my fault.
[ There's nothing he can do about it now if the potential client, or whatever the right term would be, decided not to communicate. Killua's mostly annoyed about wasting his time
as though he had anything more pressing to do.He looks back over at Geralt, gaze settling on that big fluff of a tail. ]
You'd better make sure no one tries to grab you off the streets by that thing. It's practically got neon signs saying yank me.
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Mm. He supposes a couple hours and no sign of a struggle means Killua was probably, uh. Ghosted.
A frown draws his brows together. He gives Killua a look that suggests that sign (a what sign?) is not an invitation. Of its own accord, the tail twitches. ]
If it comes off, I won't miss it.
[ That's also not an invitation. ]
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Bored from standing around for apparently no reason, he jumps at the opportunity for entertainment. As he's well-aware of Geralt's speed and abilities, Killua puts some extra pep in his step when he suddenly darts around to Geralt's other side while the Witcher is peering down the alley.
The tail looks very soft and highly touchable, after all. He should give it a test yank, just in case. Killua reaches out, trying to grab the fluffy end. ]
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Killua's successful in grabbing the furry end of his tail, the tip gliding through his fingers as Geralt spins around. What the fuck.
Without hesitation, Geralt reaches out to try and grab the boy by the back of his shirt, as one might haul in an unruly kitten by the scruff.
Exasperation more than a real threat colors his words. (Little shit.) ]
Do that again, and something of yours is coming off.
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Ewww, an old man is threatening me! In broad daylight!
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Geralt sighs, folding his arms across his chest as he watches the boy escape, crying bloody murder. If there are people looking (a woman, specifically, clutching her feather hat), Geralt ignores them. It's tempting, to just throw Killua into the fountain nearby. For a second or two, he gives it some serious thought. ]
I'm beginning to understand why Vesemir made sure we were kept busy with work as boys.
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[ Killua protests, sticking his tongue out at the woman, who looks scandalized and annoyed and quickly bustles off. ]
...or I was trying to.
Seriously, people are so unreliable. Getting consistent work is so annoying. It's always fetching this or that for peanuts, killing some monsters in the woods, digging through quest boards and flyers. How does anyone make money as a so-called 'honest living'?
[ He groans, glaring up at the sky as he laces his fingers together behind his neck, elbows up. ]
Being an assassin was so much less work...
[ He glances back over out of the corner of his eye, without lowering his arms. ]
Who's Vesemir?
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Being a what? Geralt eyes Killua, head cocked to the side. It's not that he hadn't realized Killua was something unusual. The boy had dropped enough hints: trained since childhood and obviously no stranger violence. But he'd presumed a soldier, a hunter, even a mercenary maybe -- not an assassin outright.
Though the pieces do slot together more clearly now, as he reflects back on the Killua he'd found inside the dreamscape. Not quite the same boy he is now. Something must've changed, long before Killua ever came into this world.
He doesn't ask right away, mulling it over for the time being. He's not interested in pressing too hard too quickly. ]
A mentor. Of a kind. Taught me most of what I know. [ He glances sidelong at the boy. ] If an honest living made money, there'd be more folks doing it.
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[ Killua drops his arms with a dissatisfied noise, staring off at the fountain. It must be enchanted, to keep from freezing over. Seems like a waste of effort.
Briefly, his thoughts skim over memories of his own world and childhood (if it could be called that), his family. His older brother, who taught him most of what he knows. A mentor and tormentor all in one.
All this time, and he still feels like he doesn't really know how to do anything else. He doesn't want to be a killer anymore. His Hunter License is useless here. His only goals are to stay with Gon and find his way back home, but everything in between is... a blur.
Killua lets his hands slide back into his pockets and looks over at Geralt again with a shrug. ]
So what are you doing then?
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A flicker of amusement crosses his features. The boy hadn't realized exactly what he'd described earlier. ]
Killing monsters in the woods. Digging through quest boards and flyers. Not much different here for me.
[ At least some things don't change across worlds. In a way, the steadiness is welcome. No matter where he goes, there will be monsters that need slaying. And unlike home, they're not dying out, culled by humans and Witchers alike over time. Not yet, not here. Work isn't as hard to come by. ]
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Yeah, yeah... I get it. Same old boring stuff.
Doesn't that make us competitors?
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[ What Killua finds boring, Geralt deems stable, though he knows better than to impart that sort of wisdom on the kid. He'll figure it out eventually.
He lets a few moments of silence pass. The last time he saw Killua, he hadn't wanted to bring it up, given the boy's state of mind. Now that Killua seems better with his friend back, he broaches the topic. ]
You really don't remember anything from that dream walk?
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II
She certainly isn't making things easy for her would-be kidnappers, however. One shadowy figure has her arms pinned behind her, but her legs are free and kicking to prevent the other from getting too close and drugging her.]
Put me down, you jerks! What would your moms think, picking on a young girl like this?!
[Then comes a voice from further down the alley. It's a voice she knows, and relief washes over her.]
Killua! Over here!
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He appears in the alley with a suddenness and ferocity that neither of Rikku's would-be captors could ever have anticipated, especially not from someone of Killua's age and stature.
There's no need for him to use magic in this; his body is a frighteningly efficient weapon even without it.
He's behind the person pinning Rikku in only a few moments, and though it's difficult to tell considering the harshness of his actions, he's significantly holding back when he grabs the hooded figure by one shoulder and yanks backwards, popping the joint out of place in the same motion as he throws the man off Rikku to make sure the figure lets go. ]
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Not that she's not grateful--his arrival is the difference between freedom and captivity, after all.
Once released, Rikku scrambles away and focuses on the other hooded figure. She kicks him square in the stomach, knocking him to the ground using a combination of force and surprise.]
That's what you get for picking on a poor, defenseless girl!
[She says as she takes a fighting stance, wordlessly daring him to get back up.]
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Not that he couldn't handle them both, of course, but if Rikku's got this he won't interfere for now.
He kicks over the man clutching his arm, foot swiftly knocking aside the hand reaching for a weapon inside his coat. The heel settles on the man's dislocated shoulder, grinding in until he screams. ]
What the hell were you trying to do to her?
Answer me.
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[Is the only reply Killua receives. It's a weird statement and enough to catch Rikku's attention. She turns to face Killua and his captive with a quizzical expression. The would-be kidnapper that Rikku turns away from takes advantage of the opening and more or less disappears into the night with a swiftness that seems unlikely and inhuman.
Not that that matters to her at the moment. Instead, she approaches the one who's spoken up.]
What do you mean, salvation? How does jumping people like this save anybody?
[She doesn't like the sound of this one bit.]
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[ The non-answer pisses Killua off, but before he can act to further hurt the man, he notices something else: a scent, like rotting mulch and sickness.
Suddenly, he leaps back, grabbing for Rikku on the way and trying to pull her along. ]
Don't touch him. He's infected. The Cwyld.
[ It's now that he finally sees the black tendrils of it creeping up one side of the man's collar, up his neck and ear. ]
We should go.
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[Oh, ew. Rikku catches on to the would-be kidnapper's infection about the same time that Killua does, the smell enough to make her gag slightly. As such, she doesn't resist when he starts pulling her along, although she does turn back and call out.]
You shouldn't be spreading that, you weirdo!
[You tell him, Rikku.
Final verbal potshot taken, she returns her attention to Killua.]
Thank you for the rescue. I thought I was done for.