⭐️ 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

[usurpers]

[ is there faulty wiring or is it just eren???? because, you see. eren is . . . well, he takes words and such, graciously or otherwise depending on the circumstance, and this time he just feels a little awkward. not in a bad way— these are meaningful words! and he can’t quite look like he’s smiling without it looking borderline horror inducing. ]

It’s something everyone’s born with. So— [ here we go— dragon skull to boy head, eren presses with surprising gentleness. ] It’s a right I’ll always want to see in people.

[fiddlestick]

[Elliot can feel the awkwardness through the bond. It makes him pretty happy to pick up on the impact his words have. He nuzzles his head against the dragon, not at all afraid of being harmed.]

Haha, well I for one find it very charming. [The anger Elliot had earlier seems to have subsided for now. It's hard for Elliot to stay mad for long, especially when apologies have been said.]

I think I can heal you some more, but I'll have to use some of my blood. Is that okay?

[usurpers]

[ eren closes his eyes, a naturally hot exhale leaving his nostrils and causing his throat to rumble. not a growl, but— a purr. a thundering purr that only pauses when his tongue feels compelled to flicker out. ]

Can't you use mine?

[ it's already there, but. if a little cut is needed, he won't be against it. ]

[fiddlestick]

[Oh no, that was loud but it sure was a purr. Dragon is just one giant kitty pass it on.

But ah. yeah. Using monster blood]

Ah...I could, but... I think I'd be more comfortable using mine right now.

[He's seen way too much monster exploitation the past few weeks to feel comfortable with the idea of using monster parts, even if volunteered]

[usurpers]

[ eren’s gaze holds for a moment, thick and searching into his bonded’s eyes— before he pulls, lays down (skull to earth), and gives elliot something to work with. do what you gotta do. ]

[fiddlestick]

[There's no sign of deceit in Elliot's eyes as Eren gazes into them. Instead they were eyes heavy with all the pain he's seen, but had yet to cross into jadedness. He still wore his compassion on his sleeve.

The head gets lower, and there's mutual understanding through the bond. Eren will feel a flicker of gratitude before he sets to work. He pulls out his knife to cut across his palm- doing his best not to wince as he does so. He starts to bleed, covering his palm...good.

Before it can dry, he gets to work on the healing spells, singing quietly as he does. They're stronger this time, healing and soothing deeper than just the surface level scabbing. The pain will ease away.

When it's done, Elliot really does look exhausted. He slumps against the dragon's body, catching his breath. He won't pass out for days like a certain seraph did, but boy was that tiring and he's not going to bother to hide that.

He will notice there's still blood on his palm, and offering his palm out to Eren. He know you like the witchy blood]

Want it?

[usurpers]

[ —don’t mind if he does. eren had been still, only breathing quietly and letting his chest rise and fall to it. his snout twitches when witch blood hits the air, but still he stays, nevertheless. he doesn’t even keep his eyes watching elliot as he works, allowing the waves of healing magic to course through his hide and mend what was broken. without lifting his attention, his tail flicks into encircling his bonded as he rests from exertion, only peeling open his third eyelid when offered a hand. a snack, rather.

strange to ever be calling this a snack, but things are what they are, now. eren throws his weight from his side to his belly, snaking his neck over and, once his tongue tests the waters, he digs in. sloppy. ]

[fiddlestick]

[He giggles a little as Eren licks his hand, because it does tickle some to have a dragon lick his palm like that. With his other hand, he's reaching over and petting the space between the horns on Eren's head.

He's sure if anyone happened upon them, it'd be a strange looking scene. But for Elliot, it felt affectionate, maybe even intimate. Maybe he didn't like the taste when Eren bite him during kisses, but he was fine with this]

Taste good?

[usurpers]

[ it tastes like blood, but the effect is phenomenal. a soothing input to a hole in his chest that feeds off the magic that runs through it, blends with it, leaving his tongue and nostrils with messy licks of crimson by the time elliot's hand is too clean and too slick for him to further indulge in. ]

I still don't know how to feel when I think about it.

[fiddlestick]

Aha. I...get what you mean. It's always a little weird when I think about it.

[Both that monsters find his blood so good, and also that his blood is good in the first place. Something must've changed about his blood when he arrived here...and it's really hard to know how to feel about that

He lowers his hand once it's clean, wiping the saliva off on his pants. The cut isn't deep enough to scar, so he can worry about healing it later when some of his energy replenishes.]

Then again, I think weird's pretty much the norm of our lives anyway.