Player Plot: The Salvation of Geardagas, Part II

[faileas]

Event Log: February, The Salvation of Geardagas: Part II



CW: This plot has a general content warning for kidnapping, torture, experimentation, violence, drug use (incl. aphro), infection/disease and potential death. This is entirely opt-in.

Spirited Away, Part 2 i. Hypothesis One moment, you were free. The next, you wake up in a cold, dark room with eyes on you and the cloying smell of decay all around you. Characters who have been kidnapped are being kept in the lower floor of Alder's estate, which is a labyrinth of rooms and corridors. Without exception, the way out is always either locked or heavily guarded. All kidnapped characters have been infected with the Cwyld (sometimes by proximity to botanical materials, sometimes by being directly exposed to the violent Shades they already have imprisoned) and are being used to further the Evergreen Circle's research into the nature of the plague. The details of these tests is expanded on in the plotting post and, needless to say, their capturers have very little interest in their wellbeing. They're needlessly cruel, often pitting victims against each other and forcing them to infect newer arrivals as they turn up. Subjects are allowed a few hours of sleep at a time and a small meal- assuming that they're not being purposefully deprived of either- and are locked together in cramped cells. ii. Alternative Theory Some characters, however, escape this particular cruelty in favour of something else just as dehumanising. If a member of the inner circle has taken a liking to someone, they'll take them out of the pool of tests subjects and move them into their households. Servitude is ensured by a strong enchantment that scrambles memories and replaces them with the false knowledge that they've been working there all along. These brainwashed servants might also be forced to participate in the torture and testing of the others.

Initiation The night of the initiation party is here. If you've managed to ingratiate yourself with the cult- or at least a member of rank- you'll have already received an elegant envelope with an invitation and all the details. Or maybe you stole one or put together a convincing forgery. Alder's estate is handsome, with a small courtyard lit up with strings of lights and servants at the double doors to greet guests. Inside is just as grand. The hall and ballroom are impressive spaces with vaulted ceilings painted with elaborate star maps and broken up with marble columns that wouldn't look out of place in a palace. Drinks tables are lined up against the walls and there are several smaller drawing rooms off to the side, all of which are full of guests. Throughout the first hour or so, Alder himself flits from person to person, congratulating them and making smalltalk, but he seems different somehow. Excitable. Eager. Of course, there are other ways one might get in; while the front entrance is closely monitored, the side one leading through the kitchens isn’t. In the hustle and bustle, you might slip through unnoticed. i. Cavorting and Cruelty It isn't long before things take a turn. Alder takes to the head of the room and, with his signature voice amplifying enchantment, addresses his audience. He greets everyone and gives a fairly standard speech thanking guests and welcoming initiates to the Evergreen Circle proper- and then it happens. Servants begin to wheel in cages and tanks, all containing individuals infected with the Cwyld at various stages. Some look to have been drugged, others are wide awake, but the regulars seem delighted by their presence. They whisper and titter and applaud. Some of the more docile victims are even taken out to be showed off like animals at a fayre. "Tonight, let us enjoy the fruits of our labour! Witness the progress we've made and share our blessings among yourselves! Fear will only blind you to taking the next step. Indulge, open your minds and take the first step towards your salvation!" What he means by this quickly becomes apparent. While they're not discussing or mocking the imprisoned witches and monsters, the other guests are partaking of vice the party has to offer. The drinks flow freely and there's a manic energy in the air. Those with sharp senses might recognise that some of it has been artificially crafted by enchantments. Furthermore, if you're looking for missing loved ones, you'll no doubt spot them among the "test subjects" or servants. Good luck trying to snap the latter back to reality, though: their memories have been tightly sealed and it might take some work. One of the drawing rooms has been half curtained off and a woman at the door skittishly offers the curious an aphrodisiac-laden draught, though some might have accidentally had some already. Within, guests are draped over every surface in varying states of undress, though there are partitions up to allow for more privacy. What better way is there to spread the Cwyld and strengthen bonds than intimacy? ii. Midnight Show Things reach a fever pitch around midnight. Once more, Alder calls for everyone's attention. "There's one more thing. I know all of you are loyal, true believers- but everyone must be tested," he says, gesturing to several larger bodyguards, "and we have to protect ourselves. There are those who don't understand us and seek to undo our work. Therefore, we need to tie up loose ends." One by one, the least aggressive Cwyld-infected subjects are dragged from their cages and any remaining individuals are brought out, all restrained. One of the bodyguards is carrying a large ceremonial dagger, which he presses to the vampire at the front’s throat. "Rest assured, their deaths with not be in vain: we have learned much and they will make for the perfect offering to the beings who gave us the Cwyld's blessing!" The knife flashes, ready to cut already decaying flesh- - a blood-curdling scream echoes through the room and glass shatters as a Shade breaks free from its prison. It ploughs into the guests, howling with rage as it tears into anyone and everyone that stands in its way, and others soon follow. At some point during the chaos, Alder appears to realise that he’s been caught. He, along with his inner circle, set to work trying to cover up their actions, setting the basement floor alight and using magic to bring down supports to block doorways completely. If you want to gather evidence, it has to be now, else you can focus your efforts on a rescue mission or chasing the cult leader himself down.

[ ooc: More information about the event can be found on the plotting post along with comments for questions, and an IC vote concerning Alder's fate! ]

Comments

[cryptsleeper]

[No. He's actually being nice.

Alucard steps back, and he has to admit: the leggy's power is remarkable. He can work with the splinters, but Hector beats him to it. The dhampir isn't going to fight about who should be touching something right now, especially--

--fuck. He coughs once, then groans.]

Shirt over your nose. It'll help.

[Alucard's shirt always having a low neckline is a problem in this moment, and half of his stomach's exposed as he brings the fabric up.]

Can we go back the way we came?

[petcromancer]

[Well, those nice, pale abs revealed by Alucard's ridiculous shirt certainly aren't a hallucination. Fucking dhampirs and their perfect goddamn builds.

Hector's lost his sash during his captivity, so he's forced to tug his tunic up as well. In the faunish style, it's all one piece, so he ends up with a little more leggy on display.]

We should take a turn after the second door, if it's not on fire. I don't fancy finding out if that Shade is still a problem up top.

[cryptsleeper]

[Look Hector, he works out! He puts effort into this! He...walks around the woods a lot. Sometimes Geralt shows up it's a thing.

Alucard gives the leggy a moment's pause, but there's far more to worry about right now.]

Got it. Is there an alternate route available to us if there is indeed something ablaze?

[He pauses just a moment more to check on the books and okay. That'll be it. Time to move.]

[petcromancer]

[Hector gives Alucard a flat look over his shirt-covered face.]

I don't know. Death cults aren't overly concerned about proper fire safety.

[He's too exhausted and cranky to visualize the whole mansion's floor plan and plot alternate routes.]

Move quickly and it won't be a problem. Probably.

[cryptsleeper]

[--Point.

Alucard begins to move, roughly remembering the route they came from. Hector still has to lead, and fuck.

Fuck, the smoke's getting thicker.]

Coming in from the left!

[petcromancer]

[Hector hunches over, trying to keep his head lower than the smoke as he moves.]

You're a witch, don't you have magic for this?

[Or does all of his power go to maintaining perfect hair in spite of all odds? Hector brushes past and looks for a path on their right. He's not sure where that leads, but they'll just have to hope for the best.]

[cryptsleeper]

My emphasis hasn't exactly--

[He doesn't have to explain shit to you Hector!

But he does have a point. Alucard's emphasis has been on pairing magic with his actual skills and interests, like engineering and construction, but wind. He has something.

There's a moment where ALucard stops moving and the fabric falls from his face. A great whirring sounds, and then the smoke parts, blown all to one side.]

Keep moving then!

[petcromancer]

[See, Hector is helping. Proof he should always talk shit about Alucard. It gets results.

Hector keeps hoofing it, and when they reach the hallway where they'd first entered, he looks for any door other than the one leading to the cultist's main parlor. The sound of crackling fire and screams has led him to the conclusion that he really fucking doesn't want to go that way.]

Umm, this door should be a servant's entrance. Those usually have a direct route outside.

[Can't have the help being seen by their 'betters' as they go about their errands and deliveries. Hector tries the handle, which doesn't budge.

Well, he doesn't have any applicable magic, but he does have something else that might help. He takes a few steps back, then charges forward, horns down. Most internal doors aren't fitted with locks meant to withstand a battering from a man-sized ram.]

[cryptsleeper]

[He hates you so much Hector]

And if we encounter any cultist?

[The question seems important. If they know the layout, they're the most likely ones to use it in the first place.

But for now, the question doesn't matter. Hector's about to use his head for something useful for a change, and as the door splinters, Alucard manages to keep the comment to himself.

That did look painful, after all. In fact, Alucard keeps his mouth shut until they're in the corridor.]

You're lucky that infection didn't transfer over bonds.

[petcromancer]

[Now that the smoke has cleared, Hector can level a 'you dumb bitch' stare at Alucard.]

If we see any cultists, we'll befriend them. They're so reasonable and not at all head-buttable.

[He shakes splinters of wood out of his hair and pushes past the door. But Alucard's accusation has him skidding to a halt and whipping around.]

What? How would it... That isn't possible.... is it?

[He's already terrified of the corruption that pulses in his arm with each heartbeat, that is slowly spreading to claim the rest of him. To think that his sickness might hurt Everett or Trevor... the only people who have ever cared about him....]

...it couldn't.... it couldn't.... [He's shaking, wondering not for the first time why neither bonded came to his rescue. The long-ago echo of his mother's voice is in his ear, telling him he is unwanted and wrong.]

[cryptsleeper]

Maim to stun or kill?

[Really, he has to clarify that?

Alucard's ready to keep moving. He doesn't stop when Hector does, and while he picks up the man's words, he doesn't clock the emotion in them. Truthfully, he's more angry at Hector for the risk than considering what Hector might be going through.

Most times, Alucard's assholeishness is a choice that he can pull back from before he goes over the top. This time? This time it's pure accident, and that's worse.]

You didn't even consider it?! And you put Trevor at risk?

[petcromancer]

[Hector's usual response to Alucard is to get angry and defensive. He's not sure what kind of consideration the dhampir expects he put into getting mauled by a rabid wolf, but he can't even speak up in his own defense.

He's so twisted, so wrong, that Alucard thinks him utterly incapable of having feelings for someone. Thinks that he'd purposefully let Trevor get hurt. Thinks he's not fit to be bonded to the Belmont.

And Trevor hasn't shown up to rescue him, so maybe it's true. Maybe it's all true.

He hunches over, making himself smaller. The last of his will is withering up, and he can't summon the energy to keep moving forward. He's just too exhausted.]

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard stops when the sound of hoofs do. That's not right. Not correct at all, and when he turns, the dhampir frowns. He expected an enemy. Some wayward cultist with nothing to lose. Not--

--not this.

There's really no time for words at this point, so Alucard does the only thing that's logical right now. He takes a scant moment to guess at Hector's weight, mutters a spell, and picks Hector up and over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

He's considered the logistics, so Hector's at least facing forward.]

We'll discuss ethics once we're out of the potential to burn alive.

[petcromancer]

[Well, if Hector hadn't given up before, he is now that Alucard has a lecture penciled in to his calendar. He gives the dhampir a half-hearted kick, which is more of a hoof-tap.]

Shut up.

[Can't a faun have a pity-party in peace? Watch his life crumble to pieces under the weight of his piss-poor decisions in privacy?]

[cryptsleeper]

You're not just living for yourself, Hector. Your actions ripple outward far more now.

[That kick is so easy to shrug off. And Alucard has to shift Hector just a little.]

What else is ahead?

[petcromancer]

I know that.

[He just... don't know what to do with that. He's lived the first twenty-something years of his life disconnected from the rest of humanity, free to drift as he pleased. Now he's tangled up in a web of bonds and he doesn't know how he's supposed to move around without tugging them the wrong way. People are fucking hard, and why can't everyone just be dogs??]

Just... turn left when you can, then the doors should lead outside.

[cryptsleeper]

[Alucard doesn't retort. Do you though? is immature and childish even for him, even if the question feels correct. Hector may know the matter intellectually, but in action has proven a different thing all together.

He runs in silence. Alucard turns left. A corridor and--


--outside. Outside amid acrid smoke streaming from the building. Among a crowd fleeing, and the dhampir doesn't stop.]

Where should I take you?

[petcromancer]

[Hector squints in the sunlight. It's been days since he's seen daylight.

Hector wants to go home, find his bonded, and never go outside again. But he's infected, and in spite of what Alucard accuses, he doesn't want to put Everett or Trevor at risk.

So no going home until somebody does something about his mangled arm.]

Coven. They've got healers. If anyone can fix this, they can.

[He refuses to think about what will happen to him if they can't.]

[cryptsleeper]

Can you walk, or is this easier?

[It might be faster, but there's the infection risk.

Not that Hector's been set down yet.]

[petcromancer]

I can walk. [He snaps, but honestly, he's not sure he can back up those fighting words. Ideally, the ground would just open beneath his hooves and welcome him into the sweet embrace of death when Alucard set him down, but when has Hector ever gotten what he wanted.]

[cryptsleeper]

[Time to test it then.

Alucard's actually careful as he sets Hector down. Not qutite hovering, but he's close, in case Hector's fuller of shit than usual.]

[petcromancer]

[Hector's hooves clomp on the cobblestone, and his knees shake, but they hold him up. He might be standing purely through spite. It's fine.]

There. See? I've got it from here. [Ignore the fact that a stiff breeze could knock him over.] You can go... cry tragically in a forest, or whatever the fuck it is you do when you're not trying to steal my dog.

[cryptsleeper]

[spite powers so much.]

--Abscond with mad science notes. [Alucard pauses. Looks ahead and-]

It looks like there's a group up ahead. Non-malicious. They'll send you to triage, I'm sure.

[petcromancer]

[Damn, Alucard is carrying all the research they found, isn't he? The absolute bastard, taking what Hector rightfully stole.

He looks ahead and yeah, there's a blurry people-shaped blob up ahead.]

Right. Walk into the mob of people. Good things will happen.

[He actually does start walking toward them, which is a testament to how resigned and loopy he is.]

i think we can end here?

[cryptsleeper]

[No. That's a good point.

So Alucard says nothing, quietly balancing between ensuring the documents in his hands don't slip away and making sure that mob is a friendly one.]