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

[gynvael]

[ Ghosted? It's not a term he's familiar with (for a split second, he's uncertain if Killua means he's been possessed); it takes him a moment before he pieces together the context and processes what Killua's actually saying. ]

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. ]

[killuwatt]

[ Contract? It takes Killua a moment to understand that Geralt means it in the sense of a job, then nods. ]

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...

[gynvael]

[ Understanding flickers across his face. Hardly the first time someone's wanted something done and then simply never showed up. Whether it's because they got shredded in the woods on the way to town or they were trying to avoid paying him tends to be up in the air, though. (Sometimes both.)

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. ]

[killuwatt]

Uuh... a couple hours?

[ 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.

[gynvael]

[ His brain can never really turn off from work, and so Geralt is already peering around the back side of the shop to see if there's a second entrance she'd have gone through. Which there is.

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. ]

[killuwatt]

[ Oh, really? Sure sounded like an invitation to Killua.

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. ]

[gynvael]

[ Hey --

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.

[killuwatt]

[ Killua is expecting a retaliation, and quickly ducks away with a laugh, spinning on his heel again to make a face at Geralt. ]

Ewww, an old man is threatening me! In broad daylight!

[gynvael]

[ The only upside is that this is apparently Killua at his most cheerful. Which is preferable to Killua trying to get himself torn to shreds.

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.

[killuwatt]

I am working!

[ 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?

[gynvael]

[ A quiet snort escapes him as the woman hurries away, clutching her hat even harder. Look, he's not encouraging this behavior. Much. Besides --

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.

[killuwatt]

...mh.

[ 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?

[gynvael]

[ With the sun beginning to lower in the sky, Geralt starts off down the street. He hums without answering at first, letting Killua work out whatever thoughts are in his head.

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. ]

[killuwatt]

[ Killua follows him, keeping apace. That answer echoed back at him earns Geralt an exaggerated sigh. ]

Yeah, yeah... I get it. Same old boring stuff.

Doesn't that make us competitors?

[gynvael]

[ His eyebrow lifts. ] No shortage of monsters to kill.

[ 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?

[killuwatt]

[ Killua's about to continue griping about the boring work or Geralt's boring taste or something-- but he's caught up short by the next question. The look on his face changes obviously, brows furrowing in confusion as he casts a more lingering glance at Geralt this time, searching his eyes. ]

The... what?

[ Dream walk.

Dream.

He'd had that awful dream, with Gon in the hospital, but-- ]

I-- What are you talking about?

[ There's something else. It pricks like an itch in the back of his mind, something forgotten, superseded by the bad dream that still lingers in his consciousness that had sent him running to Gon's house in the middle of the night to make sure he was still in one piece. He doesn't remember Geralt having anything to do with that. ]

[gynvael]

[ Mm. How much does he want to say? Prodding at memories buried is never ideal. Nor does he want Killua to be entirely oblivious to something so significant. ]

After Dorchacht. Some of us volunteered to enter a dream state. While I was there, I ran into you. Or a version of you. You weren't quite yourself.

[ He'd checked in on the boy afterwards, seeing as he'd, you know. Been the one to choke him out. Once the nurse had assured him Killua would be fine, he'd left. ]

[killuwatt]

I didn't volunteer.

[ Though, considering his other experience with too-realistic dream states and the warped magic that had been affecting a lot of people at that time, he realizes that doesn't really make a difference.

He'd pushed it from his memory, but there are... snippets.

He doesn't remember Geralt, though. He remembers Illumi. He remembers waking up in a cold sweat, not in his own bed, terrified his brother had really come into the city through those cursed mirrors too and had spent days assuring himself that wasn't the case, even going so far as to press the Coven Witches on any new arrivals in as much detail as they would spare.

Geralt might notice Killua's breathing has changed, very slightly. His shoulders tense, eyes narrowing. ]

What was I like? In this dream.

[gynvael]

[ He hadn't? The thought hadn't crossed Geralt's mind. Had the Coven mentioned others might be pulled in on accident? Shit, he can't recall. It'd been chaos at best during those days.

His expression is careful, though his reply is no less honest than he always is. There's a subtle shift in his stance in case Killua decides he'd rather bolt instead of finish the conversation.

Not that he'd blame him. ]

You tried to kill me.

[killuwatt]

...oh.

[ Well. That tracks.

He stifles a sigh, looking away, but it doesn't look like he's about to run off or try to change the subject. His voice is flat, matter-of-fact. It's not a brag. ]

Then you must be really strong, after all. There aren't a lot of people who can tell me about it after I try to kill them.

[ A pause, the air between them tense. Killua swallows, fists clenched inside his pockets. ]

Was there anyone else there? Or was it just me?

[gynvael]

I imagine not.

[ There's no judgment from him either. He doesn't begrudge him the attempted murder; Killua obviously hadn't been himself. That fight could've gone any direction -- and Geralt knows the boy's distraction had been part of the outcome.

Because no. Killua hadn't been alone. Not at all. The lingering presence is one he hasn't forgotten. ]

A shadow. Never saw its face, but you seemed to hear it.

[killuwatt]

...brother.

[ The word escapes him, barely louder than a breath, like an involuntary reaction more than a response. His heart rate speeds up, anxious and angry. Killua wets his lips, swallows again uncomfortably.

After a too-long beat of silence, he remembers Geralt is waiting. ]

It wasn't real. It was a dream.

Didn't mean to try to kill you, old man. No hard feelings.

[gynvael]

[ His gaze rests on Killua. The boy's thundering heart tells him not to ask further about his brother. So that was who it was. His brother. ]

I know. [ He answers simply. It's not that Killua tried to kill him that weighs on his mind; it's that Killua hadn't recognized him at all. Like he'd been lost in something else entirely.

It's a feeling Geralt understands too well now. ]

On my first full moon, I attacked someone. My bonded. Hardly remember it, either.

[killuwatt]

That sucks. [ Killua replies, sincerely.

It sounds flippant, but he... gets it. And he doesn't even have the moons to excuse him. Just years of programming from his own family doing their very best to make him into the most efficient and obedient little killing machine he could be. ]

If it's just instinct, sometimes you just... act.

[ He clears his throat. Change of subject, before he gets carried away. It's clear in just that much that he knows exactly how that goes, acting on a killer instinct when you snap. He lets out a breath, and some of the tension in his shoulders, glancing over at Geralt again. ]

So, your Bonded. The brown-haired guy who loves hearing himself talk? Seems he's still in one piece.

He mentioned you, so that's how I know.

[gynvael]

[ Killua gets a hum in reply, less out of a desire to respond and more because there's not much else to say to that. It's not an understanding he wishes on anyone, but here they are.

The change of topic is welcome. His eyebrow raises. Mm. So he's met Jaskier. ]

I don't doubt he did. [ Jaskier has made his career off of Geralt's so-called adventures back home, and it appears the bard is determined to make an equal name for himself here. ] Did he sing to you, too?