⭐️ Player Event Log: September, Little Dorchacht

[usurpers]

Player Event Log: September, Little Dorchacht

On the 21st of Septeril, the mirrorbound may see something glinting and chirping from the screens of their watches, to alert them of a message wherever they may be— The Black City’s Coven, the streets, even the sewers— a name stands just underneath written words of the device’s screen with a brief disclosure: The care centers are scapegoats to breed the city’s monster stock. The Resistance has a plan to put a dent in the system for good, so If you’re inclined for whatever reason, look for them. They’ll strike in four days and need volunteers. Any further questioning will be met with silence, or urging one to seek out those who have deemed themselves responsible, three stars dawned, excited and ready: La Resistance. Characters will be led to hideouts, sent messengers, notes and even encrypted talk under a simple guise of sympathizers in and around the Coven itself, if so much as desired to hear from them. The information is the same, wherever one hears from: “ In the "poorer" sections of the city, those less off and more exposed to various influence, there are sections dubbed as "care centers" for the lost. Some of these are true orphanages for those who've lost their parentage in some way, human only, but most are simply covers for the collection and breeding of Monsters for stock. It's been thought that by breeding "domesticated" pairs together, it'd elicit a stock that's more eager to obey without the use of magic, but so far that hasn't been the case. Like a long line of domestication, basically. They don't always keep the Monsters they breed -- many are studs offered from the Coven, who are masters among masters at keeping their Monsters heeled.” Many and all speculation is confirmed, and if you agree to help them in any way, shape or form, your informant can only grin as freely as they feel once they hear you say “yes”. —Well, hop to it! Depending on what roll you play, you have a strategy you need to follow, now. Either that, or . . . If you have your own plans, you’re welcomed to drum to your own beat. As long as you don’t interfere, says their leader rather dangerously. The Resistance, you’ll realize, would go very far for control over Dorchacht, with some individuals being very for the murder of Morgana Drummond. (It's on the table, but generally speaking they'd like it not to come to that -- there are worse things you can do to a Witch.) Their numbers aren't the highest, but it's safe to say that though they are a smaller part of Dorchacht's general public, the connections they have and where they have certain players do make them formidable in a sense. They would be able to pull through given help, and would more than welcome it. You have four days!

I. THE BOOM The night is dark on the 25th of Septeril, but the terrors lurk far more during the day. Dorchacht's air is heavy as ever, but so eerily silent amidst the calming lullabies played throughout the streets. It’s too late for anyone to be breaching the unspoken curfew, save for guards and the city’s army (widely known for keeping the peace, The Resistance would comment during briefing). Little by little, it grows darker. Lamp posts are broken, ambient magitech is dulled to shadows, and through them creep the silent steps of the war horses— the group The Resistance has tasked with creating vibrant and insufferable decoys. It doesn’t matter how it’s done, or how creative one would like to get. As long as you have the military’s attention, you’re doing a splendid job. Let it be known, though! Most veterans have taken a kindled liking to using fire to set the market and other strategic locations to flames. Tonight, we break the chains! Tomorrow, we set our city free!, they yell, boisterous and as lively as the blaze that gives Dorchacht a face that has never before been seen, or remembered: animated. It may be in the trojan horses greater interest to go along and keep them safe— not all of them know how to defend themselves from the eminent threats to come. Or maybe you have something else in mind, and desire to use the growing chaos to unfold other pieces to the puzzle the Black City hides.

II. THE CLATTER Tucked away into Dorchacht’s pockets of poverty are the human orphanages, locked, sound and asleep. Well— if the children haven’t heard the commotion yet, and you know children. Feisty little rugrats. The dark horses (and trojans) are tasked to enter these establishments under the facade of good samaritans, to usher the children and caretakers out from the (possible) fires dangerously close to licking their rooftops, as well as the chaos from the coming riots only spreading. Children will be children, and some will cling, plenty will scream, and a good handful will cry. Do your best to get them out of the way, so to speak. Remove them from danger, shake off the nitpick employees (or duct tape a few to a wall for the kids to throw tomatoes at) and return to your objective: the basements or locked rooms. Down the poorly lit staircases and soundproof-charmed hallways will be found adult monsters of all kinds and genders. The darkness is their only friend, their living conditions are indignant, and compulsion spells still plague them to obey. They haven’t see the light of day for as long as their eyes remain opened, caged and forced into bearing offspring for their slavers. Many are exhausted, frightened, and some may even be too far along their trauma to react nicely to their visitors if left to their own devices. Some may be newcomers though, strong of mind and only waiting for you to give them freedom, to allow them to help you help them. Calm them, steady them, and free them. Lead them safely to The Resistance’s hideaways, and beware those who may come to stop you. The less you’re seen, the better.

III. THE CRACK The Coven as a whole may be a little restless, as much as they attempt to hide it, once they’ve gotten word of the uncontrolled pests in town. The occasional hush and whisper rushes through their halls with clicking boots and flowing cloaks to awaken those nearly ready to rest, with the majority of their witches cursing the Resistance, and one or two smirking subtly under their pointed hats. The willing dignitaries of Aefenglom old and new that have received word in secrecy— gift horses— are told to stay in the building under their watchful eyes and safety. shelter is offered close to the river and harbor from where they came. They wouldn’t want their guests harmed in this ugly crisis, after all. Though look hard enough, trek with patience, and the sympathizers will come forward quickly, nimbly with news: a back entrance for those who want access to the city exists. Those who come will be met with Resistance members beyond these gates, disguises in hand to offer and grand thanks for joining them. Nerissa Bell will approve without openly approving— her hands are rather tied, but do take care of yourselves. She’ll do the best she can to keep accusations null and void. The citizens of Dorchacht are frightened and panicked, others join in the inspiring revolt, and even more jeer as the city splits. Some buildings may be truly lost and close to collapse by the enchanted flames and sparks of fireworks popping into the sky. Homes and businesses aren’t saved from the crossfire, even a handful of citizens are caught in the fray— no one said you couldn’t help them, care for them, and tranquilize them. No one said you couldn’t fight, either. You’re “glorified tourists”, aren’t you? Show them your glory (without giving yourself away).

this is the player plot announced and discussed here to help free dorchacht! all players are welcomed to wildcard what they do to their heart’s content and by no means are trapped into these prompts! more group discussions can be found here and questions can be directed here! have fun!!

Comments

[niespodzianka]

[ The wings are wild. Geralt's never seen the like, not even on a griffin. The man doesn't smell like a harpy, either. But now's not the time to ask - and it might be rude to do so, anyway. ]

Geralt. What are your names?

[ He means the winged man, of course, but it's best to engage the children to keep them moving, too. Geralt almost regrets it when the begin answering.

Yellow, Teacup, Stick, Foot.. these aren't real names. They're insulting little reminders carrying less identity than a pet dog. Not that the kids know that. He begins to half-hope someone does stumble on them, just so he has a soon-to-be-corpse to hold accountable. ]

[wiggleon]

[Aziraphale's smell must be quite curious, actually. He's missing the years and years of accumulated smells through a person's life, so it must feel like something's missing. But he's eaten mostly deserts since he appeared here, so he must mostly smell of all sweet things he's eaten and the smoke of all the fires.]

I...

[Aziraphale is quite naive, at times. Crowley himself told him, in anger, that he could be extremely stupid for someone so smart and even then Aziraphale knew that he wasn't wrong. But even he can't pretend not to know what those names imply, even he can't pretend he doesn't see what's happening here.

He swallows, giving the man he's asked to protect them a meaningful look- he doesn't miss that he's also noticed the implications.]

I'm Aziraphale. [And then, in a fit of inspiration when he realizes that his full title could actually help him with the kids:] I'm the guardian of the Eastern gate. So now, I am guarding you.

Isn't that convenient, my dears?

[niespodzianka]

[ The children, with their depressing names, immediately want to know where the Eastern Gate is and what's outside it, and why it needs guarding. Good luck with that, Aziraphale. Geralt nods at him, at least. Nice to meet you, wish it wasn't such shit circumstances, etc. Manners enveloped in efforts to slowly herd these kids - staying quiet is out of the question now, with all the chatter. ]

I want to see the sky, [ says a little girl with curious markings. Her 'name' is Stick. ] Can you see it from the gates? Are there many?

[ This prompts discussion about what they can see from the small yard in the back, and if it counts as the sky or not. The minority think it's not really the sky, and that they've heard stories about things called stars, which are either scary or pretty, there's no consensus.

Geralt stops walking, ears picking up hurried footsteps. He shifts in front of Aziraphale and the bulk of the children, posture holding the kid in his arm away from the person who stumbles out of the dark hall. ]

What-- [ the man, a witch, holds out one hand threateningly, though his expression is terrified. ] You can't take those. They belong to us.

People don't belong to anyone.

They're not--

Shut up. [ To the kid he's holding. ] You know him?

We've seen him before, but he's not one of our minders...

[ The witch frowns and demands they all go back to their beds. The children begin shuffling the other way, not because of the enchantment, but because it's all they know. Geralt sets who he's holding down, realizing that this witch must be who's been called to check on disturbances. This isn't going to be pretty, probably. ]

[wiggleon]

[It was much, much easier to handle situations like these when he could just… tell himself it was hell’s doing, that they were testing humanity and there wasn’t much he could do about it. Even when he knew, for sure, that it had actually been his side causing humanity pain and despair, he could always tell himself that She knew better and that it was all for the best, in the end.

But as he watches the kids try to scurry away back to their beds, back to a life of servitude and thinking themselves lesser, he only has his fellow witches to blame. He lets the kids go- they were scared enough as it was, no need to stress them out further by forcing them to stay and witness what may possibly be a battle.

Two little pucca, though, seem to be frozen on the spot- not out of a need to rebel, not because they are aware that what’s happening is unfair to them, but because they are unsure of what is really happening or who to believe. And so they remain latched onto Aziraphale’s legs, eyes wide as they look at the witch and unable to even say anything.

Aziraphale puts one of his knees on the ground, wings flapping and almost engulfing the kids as he brings them closer.]

Is there…

[He starts, unsure. Then he swallows- if they are going to get out of here, he can’t just fumble his way through it. When he speaks again, he sounds a little more sure of himself, his voice a little louder.]

We mean no harm to you. [Not exactly true, but he would rather leave this place without a fight.]

Wouldn’t you rather avoid a fight?

[But he can tell the witch isn’t really listening. She doesn’t seem angry, she doesn’t look at them with hatred- but there’s fear there, genuine fear of what they are doing, of what it could mean. And Aziraphale knows first-hand that fear is a pretty big motivator.

She’s sending a basic spell, more warning than actually meant to harm as soon as Aziraphale’s done talking. Aziraphale barely has time to create an extremely basic shield around them all, including Geralt. The kids scream, having now decided that going back to bed is probably safer- but Aziraphale can’t let them go now, they could get lost in the battle.]

Geralt?

[He lets out, unsure of what he’s asking. Can he fight? Is he willing to?]

[niespodzianka]

[ Geralt puts the child he's been holding down. To Aziraphale he says, ] Get them out the back window by any means necessary. I'll come after you.

[ It's a lot of running around in circles, and putting them out the back might mean a more vulnerable position - Dark Horse and the Resistance are all in the opposite direction - but Geralt will make sure it works out. The witch sends a more aggressive spell at them, sensing the winds of change, but he blocks it-- in an instant he's darted forward, superhumanly fast, forcing her to throw a shield up and be pushed back the way she came.

Out in the main room there are others, humans who've freed themselves from the binds they were left in by the pacifist rescuers, some disheveled, one with weapons. One man sees Geralt and screams, having apparently observed some of his handiwork in the dream-- a sense of terror gripping him with no knowledge of why.

He kicks the door closed behind him. Get moving, Aziraphale.

There is more blood on Geralt when he joins them in the back of the orphanage, and the smell of smoke follows him. ]

We gotta go. Now.

[ Because this building is on fire. ]

[wiggleon]

Indeed.

[Aziraphale doesn't need to be able to feel the lack of love and lack of virtue to know that they need to get the hell away from here, as fast as possible. This isn't going as he'd hoped it would go, but when have things gone a hundred per cent the way he'd planned? All he can do is hope for the best.

He's trying to make himself big, as big as he can with his wings spread out like they haven't been in years, decades, centuries even. He's still holding the two small monster kids, trying to scare away anyone who even dares come close to them because he may not be a fighter, he may be the kind of angel who will happily allow others to get their hands dirty on his behalf but he's a protector, so protect he will. The wings have the added benefit of keeping the smoke at bay, but the kids are still starting to cough.]

Stay close to me, I'll create a barrier.

[niespodzianka]

I hope you know where your rendezvous points are, [ Geralt says, standing nearby and keeping the kids herded between them as best he can. He knows he's more scary than interesting to them at this stage - even if they hadn't seen what he did, the implications aren't so ambiguous that children can tell something's up, and bad.

Because violence is bad, generally, even in the service of justice.

But really, Geralt has no idea where they need to be deposited, because he wasn't at the pregame session for this particular group. He'd been with the Resistance proper and making plans with the get-the-door crew. ]

Just point me.

[ And he'll punch a path if necessary. ]

[wiggleon]

[Aziraphale nods, even as he takes a few moments to glance around. They haven't been in Dorchart for long enough, and especially not in these parts of it since they tried to keep them mostly secret from the visitors. But Aziraphale is actually rather good at memorizing mental maps, so he only hesitates for a second before pointing towards one of the roads. It looks... well.

Frankly it looks on fire, but everything looks on fire right now so. It will have to do. He keeps using his wings as a barrier, keeping the smoke away as he ass the little monsters to keep on holding tight. At least they have stopped trying to run away now that they have realized the danger they are in- and looking at Geralt like they aren't sure if they should be scared or impressed.

Aziraphale hopes they settle on the latter.]

I didn't expect... so many. [Children in the breeding programs? Witches actually trying to keep them there? Both, honestly.]

[niespodzianka]

Yeah, this whole city probably deserves to be burned, [ he mutters. Geralt keeps eyes and ears open, listening past the din of flames crackling and distant fighting to stay alert to anything coming their way. He sends a modified shield out in front of them that smacks into some creeping flames, smashing them out. This is not how one is supposed to use native magic, but brute force works fine, sometimes.

As long as Aziraphale knows where to go, they'll be fine. Slightly singed perhaps, but fine. Geralt periodically rotates around, as if herding, making sure none of their small charges have darted away in fear. Children can be unpredictable even when they're in good moods.

No kid deserves this. He hopes they won't end up abandoned. ]

You doing okay? [ Awkward inquiry, perhaps, but this whole situation is a mess. ] I don't think I saw you when the first dignitaries showed up.

[ They'd tried to warn the 'shift change' about the horrors being hidden in Dorchacht, but the network is unreliable. ]

[wiggleon]

I- uh- I actually went back. This is my second visit here. I loathed it, I didn't want to spend any more than necessary around people who would treat their peers in such way.

[He squeezes the little kids clinging onto him, because he's pretty sure he doesn't need to elaborate considering the situation they find themselves in. The two little puccas- Spot and Gravy, he's pretty sure they said their names were- have seemingly realized they really cannot go back, so they are actually going along with this instead of having to be dragged.

Aziraphale left... so many kids behind during the flood, Crowley had to be the one to save them while Aziraphale pretended not to see so he wouldn't have to stop him. He refuses to make the same mistake here.]

But when I was told of what was happening, we asked the nice captain to let us back and he happily agreed. I am no warrior like you- [He's been taught how to fight, he's part of an army, but he was never that good at it. He hesitates way too much.] but I thought I could try to do my part.

[niespodzianka]

Mm.

[ It would have been nice of the dignitary team were allowed to do their jobs, make any progress or headway - something, anything, put politics to use. But it was clear very soon, even to Geralt on the outside among those who'd sneaked over, that such openings would not be permitted. ]

Hopefully all this counts for something.

[ It might not.

Their trek is not uneventful, but Geralt tries to navigate them around corners with guards - fortunately he can hear people from quite a long ways away. ]

We might have to do half of this underground. Have you been in the sewers yet?

[wiggleon]

[He shakes his head.]

I... I can't say I have.

[And by his tone he's really not eager to change that. His clothes... he knows they have seen better days, and it's not like they are centuries old like his clothes back home. He could clean them easily, he's been meaning to ask if there's spells he could use to clean in his classes. But if they go through the sewers there will be no saving them.

But he supposes some sacrifices have to be made, to save the poor children. He asks them if they are ready for the next part of their adventure- and even though they aren't fooled and know exactly what he's doing, they nod at him as they put their brave face on.

Aziraphale glances back at Geralt.]

But I may lose my way underground. I haven't memorized those maps yet. It's not a bad idea, sir- we may just have to take it one step at a time.

[niespodzianka]

That's a nice thought, isn't it.

[ One step at a time.

Sometimes you gotta jump the stairs. There are more noises ahead, probably audible to the others at this stage, and enough heat and smoke to loudly advertise that they're heading into a busy knot of violence. Friend or foe or both, it's no place for kids.

Which is why Geralt ushers them down a cramped alley and kicks in a door to a shop, snagging one kid who bolts out of fear and ensuring everyone heads down the grate in the back kitchen's floor.

Sewer time. Let's look for some teenage mutant ninja turtles. ]

I'll get you within a straight shot to the docks. Gotta be good enough.

[wiggleon]

Anything you can do will be good enough sir, I promise.

[He wouldn't have managed to get there if he had been on his own with the kids, and he's aware of that. He can heard the kids, try to control them, but it'd have been impossible to fight his way there without the other man protecting them.

Aziraphale makes sure the kids are between the both of them, making it harder for one of them to try to get away. You never know how kids will react, particularly when they are so afraid. And if they lose one of the kids in the darkness of the sewers they may not find them again.]

I can make a little fire with a spell, do you think that could help? I don't want to give away our position.

[niespodzianka]

Maybe try and make something glow instead.

[ .. instead of more fire. Also, Geralt seems to be able to see perfectly fine in the dark of the sewer, hopping down into the muck so that he can guide the kids on the ledge beside, and find the tristar emblems charmed onto the walls.

But if he needs to have a fire spell, then a fire spell is fine.

Ultimately, there are no mutant turtles. (Just a mutant monster hunter. Hyuk hyuk.) They meet one Resistance witch, but he's too badly injured to give them any aid. Just assures them he'll be alright and gives them solid directions on where to go. ]