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

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ It doesn't matter to Berserker what happens to the cultist now, so long as it's no longer his problem. Mettaton's hunger, need to do something with them is so obvious. His panic response settles down and allows him to think rationally. As satisfying as it would be to do it himself, the smarter option is to allow the puca to take care of it for him.

The dragon nods. ]

Do as you wish. I don't care what happens to them, so long as it doesn't get traced back to me.

[ That's his only concern. ]

apologies for the delay!

[glitzandglamour]

Mm. You've got it, beautiful...

[And then it could be traced back to... Mettaton, someone with a lot of public face. Does he think about this? Not very much. Berserker's observation of Mettaton is apt: there's a neediness to him that he can't begin to disguise in his company.

The tall robot steps forward on softly clicking heels, his body pristine of damage and injury, fur glossy and nails filed down so they're dull, contained. Diamond and amethyst glint on an earring in his ear, his overall countenance well-kept—too clean to be someone who much deals in the business of carting dead bodies around. But he looms over the Witch, golden eye bright but unfocused as he stares down at a body—one yet still living, but one who would die without intervention...

(Mettaton turns a blind eye to the option of carting him to the infirmary. A non-Monster Mettaton would have readily embraced that option, but now's a different time.)]

I mean. How could it get traced back to you... if I don't even know your name? Not that you'll be held accountable, since this is... my problem now. [With a placid expression, Mettaton stoops down and readily, easily scoops the poisoned cultist into his robotic arms.] ...To the infirmary, and whatnot.

[That's most likely a lie, unless Mettaton has a change of heart along the way.]

no worries!

[curruid_coinchenn]

[ Berserker doesn't care what happens to the cultist. If Mettaton is lying about where he's taking them, so be it. The end result is still the same: the Witch is no longer his problem. He trusts the puca not to betray his trust; if he does, there will be hell to pay later. ]

...It is your problem now. [ Which is a relief. Berserker tries again to clean the blood from his face so he isn't so conspicuous on his walk back. ] I'm in your debt...Find me at the Sly Seadog sometime and I'll make good on what I owe you.

[ Hard to miss someone that looks like him, even if you don't know his name. ]

[glitzandglamour]

[Mettaton may not have sworn to a Puca's promise, but it wouldn't be unwise to trust him: it's clear he has some kind of vested interested in taking the dying cultist from Berserker, one way or another. Of course it's his problem.

His ears rise at the suggestion of a debt. The Sly Seadog. His mind swims, fixed on the taste of blood, even though he usually can get a bite of it every night... Mettaton smiles a plastic smile, one that doesn't reach his eye, given the tension of the moment.]

You've got it, darling! We'll discuss it then. [And while he hadn't considered it something needing recompense, he realizes he doesn't mind the gesture... It should have recompense.] I'll be off, with... this. Take care now! Toodles!

[Before Berserker can learn much else about the robot (not that he's a difficult sight or name in the Entertainment District; there are even posters with his image on it here and there), he scampers off on fleet feet, clutching the body close and curled to his chest as though he cares about the cultist. One could say he did, whether they ended up in the infirmary or as Puca food.]