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

[themogget]

[Mogget is a cat and therefore has a limited range of facial expressions, but the way his eyes narrow and his jaw moves in that moment makes it look almost as if he's wrinkling his nose. It isn't a pleasant thing to imagine at all.]

Lovely. [He says dryly. No, he quite agrees with Jaskier on this account. It is entirely hideous. Mogget's tail lashes back and forth in agitation, ears turned back slightly, and as someone steps a little too close to him he shrinks back somewhat into the shadows beside the cage.]

Hold on to as much strength as you can. You're going to need it to run. Do you think you can do that?

[cointosser]

[If he had the energy to try to read cat moods, he would. At the moment, though, he can very well imagine especially this pristine little thing has no interest in eating bard-grown mushrooms.

The sarcasm does not go unappreciated, though. Gods. That sounds so terribly normal. He only wishes his reaction could be so succinct.]

Trying. Coerced my way into a full meal just a bit ago. [There's a few crumbs that may be remnants, but there's not much left to tell what he ate. And coerced is a silly way to put it, considering Alice was... more than kind in gifting it.

He can't see her anymore outside the cage. Hopefully she's still fine.] I can barely sit up. I'd like to think if the moment called for it, then yes. [He snorts at the cat, looking at him.] Don't suppose you can turn a bit bigger and drag me out?

[themogget]

[At least he's eaten. Mogget would not be above finding him something but he might struggle to bring it back without being noticed.

The question draws a glance. Little does Jaskier know that Mogget could make himself bigger - that he's been working on a few things that could be useful in this kind of situation - but there's the exposure to the infection to worry about.]

In theory, I could. [He admits.] But the magic may alert them. Will it comfort you if I assure you that I'll check that you made it out?

[cointosser]

Oh. [All right, that was far from the answer he expects. He rubs his eye gently, the mushrooms growing at the corners terribly irritating, and still somehow so even through all the other various aches and pains.

It's only fair he doesn't do that. However, Mogget brings up something suspiciously interesting...

The idea he could cast magic if he wished. The party certainly had glamours placed on it, and the partakers were certainly indulging. Had whatever blocked his magic been lifted? It was easy to guess the Cwyld itself interfered, yet --

If Geralt and Yennefer could find him now, tonight. If they came among the others.] Yes. [His head tilts to the bars, against them.] To be honest.

[themogget]

[Mogget isn't sure exactly what magic he would be able to cast here, thus the 'in theory'. The atmosphere is strange and oppressive and he has felt it trying to turn his thoughts more than once. Every time it has happened he has shaken it off, but it becomes more difficult each time.

He waits for Jaskier's answer, watching him silently as he mulls his way through whatever thoughts he is currently having. When he replies, Mogget lets out a sound of acknowledgement.]

Very well. Before I leave, I will look for you.

[But now...]

I can't stay here.

[cointosser]

Appreciated.

[Is it a mistake, showing so much weakness? Perhaps. Though Jaskier is not one to really worry on it much. The cat may be rude on occasion, but his intentions feel just.

Jaskier wants terribly to pet him on the head. But he refrains. He can't spread this anymore, even if -- if he feels the desire to.

It isn't his. Yet it lingers in the back of his head.]

And you shouldn't. [It's not as if there's much to see here. Or to do. And if he's captured --] Thank you, Mogget. You're possibly the loveliest cat I've met.