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

[petcromancer]

[Time slows. Hector's instincts go wild, screaming at him to run, but there's no escape. Teeth clamp down on his arm, and there's an explosion of pain.

Twisting and wrenching his arm away, he staggers back, away from two horrid, Cwyld-infested monsters.]

You... WHAT THE FUCK?!?

[Going to die, going to die, goingtodiediedie, his poor prey heart warns faster and faster, dizzying and panicked. Hot tears blur his vision, and he hears his breath quicken to fast, useless gasps for air. He keeps backing up, clutching his torn mess of an arm to his chest, staining his white wool red.]

[bloodwit]

[ viren charges forward to take control of the beast again. although he grimaces, his expression does hold something that's evidently meant to imitate sympathy. it strikes him that he could pretend the animal just simply escaped his grasp, but - there are more reasonable responses to this. ]

It's all right. You're not going to die so quickly from that.

[ he eyes where the blood's blossomed into view; fauns are such - weak creatures. though he can ignore his own wound, that may tending to. he exhales a breath. ]

Give me the muzzle.

[petcromancer]

[It's not alright. Very much not alright. He shakes his head, and with his shaking, uninjured hand, he drops the muzzle onto the ground.]

S,stay back.

[He keeps backing away, trying to keep space between them. How long is a dragon's reach? He isn't sure, so he uses the muzzle as a distraction.]

[bloodwit]

[ viren's reach may be average, but the serpentine tail that whips promisingly about his ankles is anything but. truth be told, he's uncertain of how he'd like this to further play out. his gaze flicks to observe the muzzle falling into the dirt, and he doesn't yet move for it. hector, hector... ]

[ ignoring the plea, he instead takes a long step forward, and accompanied by a sigh, ]

You're not really going to try to run, are you—?

[petcromancer]

[Oh, that tail. Hector had liked that tail. It had touched him so nicely last time. Now, Hector eyes it with fear.]

No, I'm going to walk back hand-in-hand with the dragon who just let a fucking wolf maul me. We'll make a nice evening out of it.

[He can hear the panic in his voice, high and tense over the rapid beating of his heart. He takes another step backwards, and stumbles over a fallen branch.]

[bloodwit]

[ that - insult, insolence which he should be more than accustomed to, reaches further than that (to someone and something of more import, to alder, to the circle). it's undeniably certain now, unfortunately, that he is going to attempt fleeing; but then the faun stumbles, and viren just about feels the snapping of the branch reverberate through him. ]

[ hector moves away, and he again steps closer. a longer, more determined stride this time. his wings flare. ]

You told me you wanted to study the Cwyld! [ and suddenly he finds his voice rising, enough to echo between the trees, his tone having heavily shifted; thankfully, he has his head just barely screwed on right enough not to scream something like you should be thanking me, even as his bonded would feel that particular rush of anger. ] - what better way, than through your own experience?!

[ his fist clenches into the wolf's fur, seemingly barely refraining from tearing patches from its long-ruined coat. ]

You are no member of the Circle, if you're this fearful of it!

[petcromancer]

I can't study the Cwyld if it kills me! I'll learn nothing if I go mad!

[Hector can't understand how Viren can't see that. It's illogical!]

If this is what being in the Circle takes, then fuck the Circle!

[Which is probably not to say to the very Circle-devoted Dragon bearing down on him, but Hector's scared and pissed and not making his best decisions.]