EVENT - THE BLACK CITY

[faileas]

Event Log: August, The Black City

A STARLESS SKY You feel like you're floating. Around you, colors and sounds and smells swirl as if trapped in a whirlpool, vibrancy and hue ever shifting. The more you watch them, the less solid they are; they only become clear out of the corner of your eye. The area around you begins to feel more solid as well, until your feet are on the ground, the taste of smog and fog heavy in your lungs - and you know one thing, and one thing alone: this is a dream, and an incredibly realistic one at that. Unlike the last time this shared dream happened, only familiar faces of your fellow mirrorbound appear around you; and unlike the last time that flavor of dream happened, those native to the city of Aefenglom are nowhere to be found. Instead, an impossibly tall wall raises in front of you; along it run small windows with people peering from the edges, arrows shimmering with the tell-tale glitter of magic peeking from the darkness, with more figures standing guard or patrolling the top of it. The wall itself is made of a dark, onyx-like stone - it's reflective in the smoothness of its bricks, painting all who look into it in clear darkness, and the effect is similarly found in the wide moat that surrounds the city, the faint sound of a river feeding into it the only thing to hear in the tense silence. Only one massive door stands as the entrance to the city, chains hanging across it with the protective runes of a barrier some of you might be familiar with by now. With a groan the chains begin to pull away, the door lowering across the moat as a bridge, and a party of Witches - for they must be Witches, the pins on their cloaks the same as those found in the Coven in Aefenglom - urges the group inside. Monsters find it easier to obey the orders - compelled to, even - but perhaps that's the safety of the city calling out to you, and nothing more.

I. THE CITY ITSELF While Aefenglom is known for its dusk-hued skies, made of lustrous pinks and purples and blues, this city is dreary to the core. The streets are covered in a perpetual fog, not unlike the city you hail from, but thicker, denser, tinged with the flavor of industrial smog from the factories whose spires you can see in the distance. Magitech lights - lanterns above doors, street posts, flickering in the windows you pass - illuminate everything throughout the entire day, as if the sunshine can't reach through the foreboding fog nor the onyx walls. Even the windows are barred, offering a paranoid protection against the outside world. Doors seem hardier, and each building is reinforced and protected in a way that may feel familiar to those that have encountered the protective magic wards. They're heavier, leaving an almost ominous presence that causes unease to hang just as heavy in the air as the smog. The people of this city are just as dreary as the streets, though they do mill about with the same frequency as any city. Unlike the citizens of the dead Aefenglom that were encountered just the month before, however, these are real, living people. They can be spoken to. They can be touched. They interact with wariness and caution towards the strangers that have been heralded into their walled in world, especially those that show what they presume to be monstrous traits. Because it becomes quickly obvious that the majority of the citizens that answer a call, a question, a touch to gain their attention... They're human. a. OBEY AND SUBMIT Monsters that can be seen on the streets aren't few and far between, however. Their presence is subtle, in the fog and amidst the passing crowds of passing faces, but they're there. On a surface level, most of them seem to be fairly at ease. Passive and unfazed by anyone that tries to interact with them, as if they're disinterested by their mere presence in a way that isn't reflected by their human counterparts. A closer look shows a strained pinch to their faces, a tenseness to their bodies, a glazed look just at the surface of their eyes. Too many attempts to interact with them will cause some humans to emerge from shops, or ask that you leave their business; these are the ones that are... employed, most often seen in the shopping and industrial districts. But their movements are almost robotic in repetition, and they never speak to anyone even when addressed - even when a keen eye might take note of the sturdy leather collars around their necks, reinforced by metal and with visible places to attach a leash. Some in the industrial district can be seen with these leashes, powerful chains to keep them attached to carts, to keep them from swimming down the river, from flying away and out of the black walls of the city. All Monsters present in the city are clothed, though it's the ones on the clearly decorative leashes with the more delicate collars that are the best dressed. They accompany humans throughout the city, the same placid blankness present much like their busier counterparts. These are the aristocrats and their so-called "Bonded," though implying the same tone one would take in Aefenglom here will net a deep set of disgust. Attempting to rouse these Monsters does very little, and may even result in them jerking away and cowering behind their human company. b. GOING ONCE, GOING TWICE At one end of the city is a massive pavilion, one made of the same stone as the wall, giving off the same oppressive foreboding. Humans come and go from this peculiar town square with a casual air, an intent the same as a stroll through the stalls on the market street. Because that's, essentially, what they're doing. Monsters young and old put on display to show their abilities and strengths, tasks that range from the physically demanding to performances of artistic abilities. Some seem to be just at the surface of awareness, their glazed expressions refocusing at times with a sort of strained fear that's visible even at a glance. Many don't even react outside of doing the tasks they're ordered to do, going through the motions as a barker speaks at length about them, their abilities, how much their labor goes for and what they cost. These Monsters are purchased by the humans of the city at each display, many of them never wearing more than their basic clothes and the customary collar, a chain to keep them tied to their station with a generous enough reach. Most come and go with very little struggle, but some... it becomes obvious that they've broken through the surface and are coming up for air for the first time in a long time. Wooden posts where the chains are connected can be heard splintering with the force of their struggle, metal bending under pressure, the anxious energy of something about to happen. But the fights never last long, as attendants wearing Coven pins on their cloaks swoop in to attend to the situation - and many dreamers might notice a familiar Witch filtering in and out of the events, speaking to the auctioneers before departing for another selling. It's difficult to recall their face later, no matter how clearly one saw it before, but one thing is certain: while not necessarily prim and proper, this person is someone with a steel spine and a sharp eye. And they saw you, just the same as you saw them. c. AT BECK AND CALL With enough observation, or perhaps even experience, it becomes apparently how this is happening: any command or order issued to a Monster is taken to the most literal, and Monsters have no choice but to obey. Many Monsters employed as workers are so deep in the compulsion that they won't obey any additional commands, unless it comes from the person they have this most warped "Bond" with. Others will accept commands from anyone, even the mirrorbound Witches that have come into their city. Even the most asinine command is one that they'd obey, and one that maybe even you'll obey, too. Having a friend playfully tell them to shut up? They're forced into silence until told that they can speak again. Told to jump off a bridge? Best make sure you specify that you don't want them to jump off of a very high one, if you really want them gone that badly. Handstands, cartwheels, jumping jacks - but also, hurting someone, hurting themselves... one has to hope the Monster in question has a strong willpower, or it's a command that goes against one that's already been issued to them. But something of note is that mirrorbound Monsters of Aefenglom will find that they're also effected by this, though they're better able to fight the compulsion. Those with weaker constitutions may need help snapping out of the command, especially as a powerful command will be painful to fight against, and Witches will have to watch their words. Take care that your friends, your peers, the strangers you've arrived with, don't find themselves attending the auction block - it's a very real possibility in this place, with an unknown Monster unattended and uncollared. It should all be harmless, though. After all, this is only a dream... isn't it? No NPCs are available for this log - unlike with the midsummer dream, they're nowhere to be seen. No Nessie, no Mhairi, no one. Which means that there's no one to counsel them as they find themselves exploring the setting, and discovering that they're just as susceptible as the people in the dream...

II. THE COVEN Unlike with Aefenglom, there isn't a proper Parliament. A little investigation will lead to the discovery that the Coven of this city is the main governing body, which may explain a great deal about why there's such a massive presence of magic here. Located at the center of town - all roads lead to the Coven, a massive stone building with sharp looking spires - the grounds are notable in that there's nothing even remotely similar to the Looking-Glass House that everyone has come to know, despite its secrets. Should one gain entry to the main building of the Coven itself, they'll find that all the mirrors are within. Their main focuses of magic, rather than the more broad spectrum/free-to-study policy that Miss Nessie encourages, are enchantment and abjuration - for control, primarily. They're also heavy studiers of runes, visible across the city and with an even heavier influence in the wards of the Coven itself. They are, regardless, fairly welcoming to eager young minds wanting to learn. So long as the Monsters are left behind. But who's to say that you can't disguise a Monster? a. STUDY TIME Those curious about the Coven's library are welcome to investigate it for themselves, the Witches all smiling faces as they usher their visitors in. But they'll soon find that they aren't really left to their own devices; a member of this Coven branch is practically around every corner, and while they try to be subtle about their observation it becomes quickly obvious that they're not there for their own studies. They're stationed around the library to ensure that their guests don't make off with any of their resources, or try to get into any forbidden sections of the expansive library. Where the Coven library of Aefenglom - as well as the Undermael College's library - plays devil's advocate, with accounts and studies conducted from both sides of the anti-Monster sentiment and attempt to expand upon outdated knowledge... these ones have a decidedly anti-Monster lean in every regard. Any attempts to find otherwise will be met with bemused amusement by the Coven members, and a note that they don't carry such things here. After all, they're certainly not Aefenglom. They would never carry anything that could put their citizens at risk in such a way. Nevermind those horrid Bonds that Bell goes on and on about - it's no wonder that they're always at odds with their government. If only they'd wisen up, hm? Perhaps these new arrivals would like to transfer to their branch, instead, to better guarantee their growth. b. THROUGH THESE HALLS If one manages to slip away from the library without having somebody tailing them, they'll soon discover that the chilled atmosphere doesn't simply linger in the city itself. The halls are cold, the runes unwelcoming unlike the homey feel that Nerissa Bell's charms offer. Certainly home isn't perfect - and there's no denying that the sentiment is shared by many - but the smiling faces of the Black City's branch are at odds with the feel of their magic, the caged in weight pressing down on everything, including your shoulders. The halls are dimly lit by flickering lights, enchanted lanterns with a constantly burning yellow-white fire. Plenty of nooks and dark corners afford even large Monsters the ability to sneak through the halls, should they be snuck in for better investigation with their peers. Take care, however; there are Witches coming and going constantly. An empty room might lead to a study, a classroom, a bedroom. Locked doors don't yield easily, even in a dream, and may need to be abandoned. But a terrible, foreboding feeling emanates from large double doors that are rigidly locked. Hushed voices speak from the other side, and it's almost like the cold feeling that spreads throughout the Coven itself finds its source behind those doors. Periodically, sounds of pain escape from within - but they die out to whimpers, then silence, before they can ever get too loud. A crisp voice speaks only one word, clear even through the wood and the magic: "Again."

III. THE DARK UNDERBELLY There's always more to a city than the streets that you can see at the surface level. If you're looking, it's not hard to spot the signs. There are runes that mark walls and cobblestone streets like graffiti, and a studied eye might realize that they're not the same sort that have subjugated the more monstrously inclined of the Black City. These are intended to dispel magic, and the moment that a member of the Coven notices it - it's swept up as soon as possible, scrubbed clean or scorched off with magic. People take to the streets in small groups, standing their ground and raising their voices above the muffled din of a foggy city. They carry chains and collars that have been broken, but many of them are undeniably human as they confront something that has so obviously become the norm. Break the chains! they demand. Break the spell! Monsters go missing from the auctions with a well-placed distraction - perhaps you're one of the individuals being freed from the pavilion, or someone that's realized that there are people coming and going through the crowds, wearing the same cloaks as the Coven but without their iconic pins, dressed as aristocracy, from all walks of life... smuggling the Monsters away at the first chance. a. PARTY TO PROTEST Not every uprising can be swept under the rug at first sign, however. Witches take to the streets, looking surprised to see the mirrorbound arrivals from Aefenglom - and it's not the same wariness that most would give them. This is the calculating eye of someone assessing whether the person they've met will help or hinder, and some of them decided that you're to be help. Enchanted slips of paper are pushed into hands, runes are taught as quickly as possible in a hushed whisper and explanation, locations given out to Witch and Monster alike with a word of caution. Use the paper on a surface, any surface, and you'll see. Use the runes to break the compulsion - you might have to do it twice, thrice, however many times it takes to dispel the magic. Don't be caught. Using the enchantment as instructed - pressing the paper against a wall, the ground, a post, anything - will result in glowing runes overtaking the surface. It's the same as the runes that are taught to Witches, used to ward against the magic in place just as much as it is to create a statement of protest. If one goes to a location that is whispered to them, they'll find that they've joined an organized protest. It's small in size, a mixture of Witches and unleashed Monsters. Due to the size and frequency it's easy enough to find them, but the guards are very quick in putting them down or hiding any traces of them from the public eye, despite the protesters' best attempts. There's nothing amiss in the city, and nothing for citizens to worry about. b. REST AND REGROUP But they can't find every source of the resistance. It isn't hard for dreamgoers to find themselves swept up by these protesters. Any help is welcome, and those that show an inclination towards helping the Monsters of the city - or their Monsters that they know, regardless people that shouldn't suffer this way - will be taken into the fold. Entrances to their secret routes can be found in places that are hidden in plain sight. A storefront tended to by a Monster with eyes in sharp clarity when they look up from their robotic work welcomes a group of people in and behind the counter, to where a hatch door is hidden in the floor. A manhole cover is pried up, where people are smuggled down below. A portal is prepared, a different and darker destination on the other side. They all lead to the same location. The sewers are vast beneath this city. Much like the labyrinth that many faced in the Midsummer nightmare, it almost seems winding, endless, and the water is cold when it's crossed. But even with the stank of the runoff, the musty and moldy air, there's never the sense of dread, of death. Instead, there are signs of when you're going the right way - runes that shimmer only when looking at them out of the corner of your eye, or when you know what to look for. Three stars together - sometimes overlapping, sometimes circling each other, but always three, and always five points. While they appreciate the help, the mirrorbound aren't invited in by the revolutionaries to the main hideout. But it becomes obvious by charm bracelets, necklaces, piercings, tattoos, embroidery and stitching on shirts; this symbol, and its presence, is integral to their world beneath the city. But many are welcome to mingle throughout their circle. In the sewers, the shops, the small park where a rune gives secret announcements to those who know where to look for it on the third bench, even the homes of people that certainly don't look like revolutionaries, let alone anyone that would be a protector.

Welcome to the Black City! As a reminder, this takes place on August 18th - or rather, 3AM on the August 19th, much like the midsummer nightmare. If you have any questions or need any clarifications, you can ask them here! And as always, while we do encourage you to use this log, you can feel free to thread things out on your own log or elsewhere. Characters are allowed to try and start fights in the city, create prompts based on the information given instead of using the ones given exactly, and poke their noses where they don't belong - we encourage it, actually. But regardless of what you choose, we hope you have a good time!

And as a final parting note: If a character dies in the dream, they'll simply reappear at the beginning rather than waking up like normal.

Comments

[fulgency]

Well, for a change, I'm the one escorting, not being escorted. [He chuckles in light amusement at the role reversal in that sense.] I will leave the decision ultimately up to you, but given that you said you were tired, I would recommend that we find someplace you might be able to rest. Regain some of your strength and energy back from your ordeal with that man.

[There's a beat of silence before he amends.]

At least for a few hours.

[There's really no guarantee that any place they might find would be suitable for longer than that. It seems unlikely. And even if that were the case, he doesn't get the sense that she would probably tolerate resting for longer than that anyway. Whether it's the moons, this form, her injuries, or this city, she seems a little antsy. Justifiably so.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[Her ears lower a fraction as she considers it. Rest. Fang didn't like it—she needed to find Ursula and Kaede, needed to find her pack—but she knew Ozymandias was right. Her body feels like lead. Hours of ferociously struggle (and honestly, torture) caught up to her without adrenaline to stave it off.]

[The turnskin sighs, a reluctant rumble in the breath. Just as reluctantly, Fang crosses her forelimbs and settles her head atop them. The end of her tail flicks twice in annoyance.]

Hide us? [Illusions were a thing Witches could do, wasn't it? Fang didn't know where to go. She'd spent all her time focused on avoiding the citizens, not mapping the city. Careless of her.] Or, lead. If you know, where.

[Did this city even have rentable rooms, or abandoned spaces? Indoors would be better than this filthy, chilly alley, but Fang would take what she could get.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias doesn't answer right away, taking a few moments to weigh their options. His expression settles into something quieter than usual as he thinks. While true that they could stay in this space, Ozymandias mentally eliminates it as a possibility before it even has a chance to be considered. It's not an appropriate place, and they should be inside somewhere.]

[So, that really only leaves them ultimately with two options: finding a room somewhere or stashing her in a stable. Ozymandias doesn't particularly like the notion of the latter in concept given that it feels like he's treating her like an animal. But to some degree, it affords a more unique sense of privacy as most of the Witches here do not seem all that interested in who or what is placed in the stables. As for the former... Well, it has the benefit of the most creature comforts being available and not inadvertently treating her more like an animal, but they're usually fairly restricted on what Monsters are allowed in.]

I won't have you staying here, [he says slowly after a while.] So, our only real options are to find a room or make use of the stables. Neither option is necessarily perfect, but you would be able to more or less hide in plain sight either with the help of some magic or the assumption of natives here.

[Ozymandias doesn't even consider an abandoned space. It doesn't occur to him both because it's never once had to be considered for him and because hiding like that doesn't really seem all that conducive to resting. It seems just as exposed as standing in the alley.]

I'll lead you to whichever you choose.

[belligerentwarrior]

Stables, [the feline grumbles after a moment, rising to her feet, ears tracking some distant sound again. It was the path of least resistance, and it wasn't like Fang was a stranger to sleeping outside. She's made do with fewer comforts—probably obvious, by her reluctant willingness to take a nap on the spot. The sooner she has a place to rest, the sooner she can be back out looking.] Easier.

[The turnskin glances back at him, waiting, weariness more evident in her posture now that she's calmed some.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias nods his assent to her plan. As he passes her, Ozymandias briefly places a hand on her shoulder, the touch being neither a pet nor lingering for particularly long. Just enough to both acknowledge her fatigue and bolster his subsequent words.]

There are some not far from here.

[Which likely comes as no surprise given what they are still in somewhat close proximity to, but it feels important to say. He knows she's likely at the end of her patience with many things at this point, her fatigue likely included. Some reprieve, in the end, should likely be welcomed.]

[He leads her back out of the alleyway and says nothing further. Setting aside her difficulties with speech in her current form, it would likely draw more attention to the pair of them if he were to engage her in any further conversation. The glances he gives her are similarly subtle, making sure he has not lost her and she has not become distracted.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[She didn't mind the touch—it spoke of camaraderie as much as his words did. It was the petting earlier that pushed it. Her normally robust pride was bruised, made sensitive by her relative powerlessness and short temper.]

[Her body language changes as she slinks out of the alley after Ozymandias, head bowing and shoulders slumping. It's an easier act to put on than last time—Fang even refrains from growling, but not entirely successful. There's still a line of tight tension to her, held fast by her residual anger and bloodlust, but just like last time the Witch's confidence does much to dissuade queries about her lack of collar.]

[She's trying. She really is.]

[fulgency]

[Her effort doesn't go without notice from Ozymandias. It's not a perfect showing, but he hadn't anticipated her to put on a perfect performance anyway. And no one seems particularly keen on disturbing either one of them, so perfection is clearly not what's required.]

[And perhaps more fortunate to some extent, being away from the market has the benefit of not witnessing so much outright and overt cruelty. Although it is not as though there are free monsters roaming the streets beyond the market, no one is being subjected to silver-laced collars here. Were that not the case, Ozymandias thinks he would have a significantly harder time keeping up with her.]

[A few blocks away from the alleyway they took their initial refuge in and Ozymandias leads her to one of the stables. The main door is left open, allowing anyone to walk in or out, but the individual stalls each have doors of their own. Ozymandias hesitates a moment, thinking that it might be better for her to wait outside until he can confirm there's a free stall here (or that it's quiet), but it's probably best not to leave her unattended for long out there on the street. Stepping inside, he finds the silence inside to be eerily as though there's nothing alive within the stable.]

[But that proves to be patently untrue as the first handful of stalls are occupied. None of the Monsters are putting up much of a fight, waiting quietly in their cells for their next command. Sometimes it is a singular Monster and other times it is a group. They all appear to vary in age as well by the looks of it. Some young enough that Ozymandias would place their age to be roughly that of an older teenager. Regardless, all of them possess a collar of some kind and the look they give Ozymandias when he peers inside could be best described as blank. None of them say anything or look as though it's even occurred to them to say anything, simply turning back to look at the wall or the floor when they realize it's not their Witch coming to collect them.]

[Finally, he finds one that's empty and it is a relief to see. Somewhat of a relief, anyway. The stall itself is no different than any of the others in terms of its size or its contents, which only contain fresh hay to act as bedding and any other purpose that might be needed. It's hardly much of anything, but it's not another dull expression staring back at him.]

This one, [he says, sliding open the latch before pulling the door open. He steps inside first, though still holds the door open for her.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[The Monsters out here didn't need threats and pain to keep them in check. They fell in line without silver lacing, without inward spikes, without muzzles and wing bands and magical beatings. They were the good ones, after all.]

[Even knowing what stables were like, even choosing this option over the other, something about the latched stalls twists something in Fang's stomach. Her lip pull back from her teeth in a silent snarl, but after a disdainful moment, she follows Ozymandias in.]

[At the very least, the hay is fresh. Fang had doubted the stables would even receive that much consideration. The surly jaguar lays down in the back corner, facing the door and side pressed against the wall, propping her head up on crossed forelimbs. The straw was better than a stone floor, for the most part, even if it felt like a needle wherever a piece pressed against her minor burns.]

[Green eyes flick back up to Ozymandias, weary but still alert, simply watching. She probably ought to thank him again, for seeing her to shelter, but... it was difficult to feel grateful for this whole situation.]

[fulgency]

[Ozymandias doesn't intend to abandon her even after having brought her to a relatively safe place to take refuge. Instead, he pulls the stall door to without latching it and sits in the stall with her though takes his position next to the door where she can see him. No doubt to some degree, he looks a little ridiculous sitting in straw like this with his gold jewelry and his posture appearing to still be one of relaxed confidence as though he were taking a break on a far more comfortable surface than the floor.]

[He pays Fang no mind, picking through the straw some until he finds strands of similar length to begin braiding them together. He doesn't do this out of any sort of agitation, both the search and his subsequent weaving intentional, but not frenzied. It's clearly meant to pass the time more than anything else as he smiles lightly to himself.]

[belligerentwarrior]

[...Huh. The idle braiding, and the almost delicate motions of it, surprises her. It manifests as no more than a blink on the relatively expressionless face of a cat.]

[Relaxing is difficult. These stables were shockingly clean, and safe from the low foot-traffic tread only by handlers when absolutely necessary, but lingering agitation and pain and paranoia keep Fang tense. Her ears constantly twitch to follow the sounds of the city.]

[She watches Ozymandias weave for a bit, her eyes starting to droop; weariness finally, eventually, overcomes her, and Fang drops off into a light slumber.]