Event Log: January, Return to Dorchacht

[faileas]

Event Log: January, Return to Dorchacht

I. A Tarnished Reality The teleporter to Dorchacht becomes operational by the 4th and the ambassadors return to their city with the first open, ceremonial operation of the device - along with any Mirrorbound who wish to join them, and Theodore Rosethorne and Sowilo, who make the trip as representatives of the Coven to ensure that all is well. Those who missed the first teleportation, never fear! Now that both waypoints are functional, Mirrorbound and others may travel freely between Aefenglom and Dorchacht at any point they choose to. Notably absent from the group, though - most of the Dorchacht refugees originally smuggled into Aefenglom. Only three or four are going back with the ambassadors, and they're primarily Witches. The rest have chosen to stay. Upon return to Dorchacht, it's obvious that some major changes have been made with the new regime. The sky is overcast, but it's merely fault of the weather at this time of year - the oppressive fog that used to hang over the Black City is gone, along with its effects on the natural lunar cycle. The auction blocks, damaged in the fires of the event the locals now call "The Rising", have been fully torn down, not a trace of them left to sully the streets. Where the triple stars of the Resistance used to be worn in secret, a majority of citizens now bear them openly (and in many cases, proudly) on pins and on clothing. In fact, any Witches who do not display the triple stars on their person somewhere, are generally regarded with suspicion, disgust, or fear unless they're recognized as Mirrorbound Witches - careful not to be mistaken for a Drummond sympathizer. The Monster citizens won't be outwardly cruel to any Witches, but will be somewhat fearful, hurrying their children along or crossing the street to get away. Recognizable Mirrorbound, those who were there during The Rising and before, are treated a bit like celebrities on the streets, though any Mirrorbound are given a warm welcome, albeit a little less warm for Witches. Storytellers share tales of how diplomats treating one another, Witches and Monsters alike, as equals so publicly and openly within Dorchacht gave them hope that such a life is attainable, or how a band of Mirrorbound snuck into the city under the cover of darkness and helped give their Resistance a leg up in the good fight against Drummond's extremists. Others share stories of being rescued from burning buildings or cruel Witches during The Rising by brave heroes. Many of these tales are shared in the form of song, as homage to those Mirrorbound who brought hopeful music to Dorchacht through the radio, which is still operational and playing a selection of music with a little more variety. Still a bit soft, their speakers and songs are, but as time passes, they grow a little more experimental, branching out from the lullabies that used to be played. Overall, the Black City is much less black these days, a little greener and brighter from the plants left by Mirrorbound before. Where the old Dorchacht could take your breath away with its feeling of barred oppression, many of those barricaded windows have been opened, reinforcements on the doors broken down. Though things are never perfect after a revolution, and it's clear that the work continues. Armed Resistance guards patrol the streets in trios, normally two Monsters and a Witch, to keep the peace. Their first priority is the protection of Monsters, many of whom still seem anxious and scared as they go about their days - not of the guards themselves, who they often greet with smiles, but of the Witches and humans they pass on the streets. In some cases, keeping the peace means breaking up fights between their own and those humans and Witches who do not want to accept Monsters as their equals, and in some cases it means putting Drummond sympathizers in their places with intimidation and force. While they do their best to keep skirmishes out of Mirrorbound sight, it's clear that despite the improvements, Dorchacht is still no utopia, and the road to a true peace is fraught with speedbumps. As noted, characters are free to travel between Aefenglom and Dorchacht by teleporter as often as they'd like! The waypoints will remain open even after this month and travel will be unrestricted; we will note if this situation changes in the future. Dorchacht quests are also now available ICly!

II. A Few Alterations a. The Coven Major changes are still underway. One of the biggest that Mirrorbound will notice is that the new administration of Dorchacht have moved the Coven. The old building is in a state of disrepair right now, doors and windows wide open, the interior stripped of trappings. The library has shed its books to somewhere else. The basement where so many horrors took place is abandoned. Instead, a sign has been erected outside it, stating that this center of Drummond's operations will be turned into a museum to remember their unpleasant history, and to memorialize those who lost their lives fighting for freedom. It's still a work in progress, and not high on the priority list when survival and care of the citizens have to take precedence, but inside, characters may still find small shrines set up in various places to Resistance members who died there. Instead, Dorchacht's new Coven is currently based inside an old manor located just a handful of blocks from the town square, and it's a much more informal affair. Magic lessons have continued with Resistance Witches, though the subject matter has changed instead. They experiment with different types of magic based on their own interests, but many are studying plant magic, medicine, and defensive spells that can be used out in the Wilde. Anything that will prove to be practical going forward. Lessons are also open to Monsters now, so they can see what their magical brethren are learning (and know that the compulsion and control spells that Morgana loved so much are no longer being taught). With the Coven being moved, visitors from Aefenglom are offered places to stay either within the manor of the new Coven, or in various empty houses around the city. Stay as long as you'd like, they say, and apologize that the accommodations aren't nicer - reconstruction is still obviously ongoing all over the city, repairing damages from The Rising and the fighting that happened afterward. They don't really have anywhere as nice as the rooms their ambassadors were given in Aefenglom. b. The Walls One of the biggest on-going projects in Dorchacht right now is removing the Monster control spells from the set of enchantments on their city walls. High on the list of priorities is making sure that Monsters can feel safe again, secure in their own minds and bodies. As the spells are made visible, particular sets of runes have to be ground down and smoothed over. A spell is either cast or provided to soften the stone temporarily, and then it's basically going at it with magitech-powered sanders created by Hilda. The particular runes that need to be gotten rid of will be provided on reference sheets - please don't touch the others, they chide! Those are to protect from the Cwyld, and are still very important. While help is welcomed with open arms and enthusiasm at most sections of the walls, those guards posted at one particular small district, guarded with trios of Resistance members at each entrance and warded with alarm magic to warn of escape, turn Mirrorbound away; these runes are being altered, not removed, to help contain unruly Drummond loyalists, they say. The people who now live in that guarded district are all human, whether they're Witches or no, and all refuse to bear the triple stars. "Troublemakers," the guards will explain grimly. "We have to contain them for now. It isn't a perfect solution, but they've hurt people, or tried to hurt people, since Drummond was run out of town." c. Bond Lessons Bonding is a bit of a tricky subject in the new Dorchacht. Many Monsters are afraid of the idea, as it was once used as one of the collars around their necks, but the Circle of Three recognize it as an important way to wean citizens off the lullabies and calming draughts that prevent going feral during full moons. As part of encouraging others to form Bonds, partnerships at the very least the way most Resistance members describe theirs, there are demonstrations and public seminars that pop up around Dorchacht on the regular. They may be as informal as a circle in what's going to be a park or as official-seeming as a talk held inside a shop or lecture hall, but they have one thing in common. Many of the citizens are keen on getting Mirrorbound in on it -- mostly by dragging them in, asking if they have a Bonded, and if they do, they tell the Mirrorbound to talk about their Bonded. They're interested in the ups and downs (but mostly ups) of having one in order to show that if the Mirrorbound are into it, you should be too! They accept all stories but prefer the happy ones - the aim is to encourage their Monster citizens and help them be less afraid of taking that step with Witches. And for those who aren't in a Bond, or decline to talk -- well, they get what amounts to a "flour sack baby" in the form of a Dorchacht citizen of the opposite role of their own (a Monster would receive a human/Witch, a Witch would receive a Monster) that they must hang with for a day, ensuring no harm comes to them, bound by one of the temporary Bonding potions so popular in the Wilders' ranks. (As a note, for the second option, you have free reign of the NPC; do the personalities you find fun, be they cooperative or mischievous, shy or loud, abrasive to your character or someone they can genuinely get along with. They are all willing - no one is being forced into this. No Fae or Dragons allowed for Monster NPCs, unfortunately, as they are still very much not about.)

III. Ahoy Mateys! With Dorchacht opening up again after the last few months of closed off internal fighting, plenty of trading ships' Captains are ready and raring to go build business relations with the new regime and find a new market for some of their wares. There has been increased interest in finding a shorter route to Dorchacht by sea - the teleporter is useful for small groups of people, sure, but it can't handle much cargo. The only problem? Ships are being turned back, barely halfway there, with significant damage to their hulls. Brave individuals looking for a seafaring adventure are asked to come aboard and help the crew navigate tumultuous waters, hopefully figuring out along the way what's causing the damage to previous ships. It's a three day trip to Dorchacht if the waters are kind, and characters can simply teleport back home once there. On board the various ships brave enough to return to the sea, Mirrorbound find the problem halfway through the trip: a colossal squid that's made it home at this point, thrashing ships that come too close to its den. While uninfected, it does have injuries on its body, which may be the source of its lashing out. The ships are able to bring themselves close enough for longer ranged attacks, and the Harpy on board are careful not to be captured by the churning waves caused by the thrashing, but there's others who want to seek a less violent mean to end this surf and turf conflict. Killing, healing, subduing, or relocating it are all valid options, but getting in close to do any of those will be difficult, as it has a tendency to ink up the waters around it and reduce visibility to nothing. Be careful of any creatures swimming around that are interested in the weakened squid as well, such as various carnivorous fish, sea-plants, and things that appear alike to Merrow, but rely only on instinct. The Merrow cannot be spoken to, nor are they infected; the Captains of the ships will explain that they're "wild", and refer to them as distant cousins to the Merrow that sparsely populate Aefenglom itself.

IV. Back At Home Back in Aefenglom, the stir caused by the Circle of Three's arrival takes time to calm. It's the talk of the town for days - many seem happy about Morgana Drummond's apparent demise. "Good for them," is the general sentiment in the residential areas more populated by Monsters and the Harbor District. They're glad to know that things are on the way up there. Others think this is a boon; should anything happen, now Aefenglom has an ally city to stand with them, one in their debt. Others still don't really care either way, and go about their lives as if nothing's happened. The refugees, in their neighborhoods on the far reaches of the Haven, seem happy to hear news from home and find The Dragon/Starlight/Fafnir freed, and while a few of them choose to return to Dorchacht, having never put down roots in Aefenglom, more still don't wish to leave the homes and families they've formed here, or the Mirrorbound who have helped them so much over the months. Some even doubt that things are as good as they say, and choose to remain for that reason - slavery and ill treatment from the upper class in Aefenglom instilled in them a sense of (well-earned) paranoia regarding the intentions of Witches, especially those back home. They hear that things have changed, but don't necessarily want to find out for themselves. Even still, the mood is upbeat, with a general consensus that if Morgana is really gone, that's at least a solid step in the right direction. In the Aristocratic District, though, the atmosphere is sour. The general sentiment is that they wish the refugees would have left with those ambassadors. The kinder ones think Aefenglom should focus on its own citizens - the people from the Outer City brought in to weather the blizzard have never left, after all, still living in the neighborhoods with the refugees. Those who are more vocally outspoken about the Mirrorbounds' presence in the city think they should have all left to Dorchacht. Let another city shoulder all the misfortune they bring with them! Many of the people grumbling about that are ones who were directly affected by the Mists back in October, either through temporary changes themselves or through being attacked by ferals. Some of the more hot-headed young people try to spread this message - through graffiti, on homes and businesses in the Haven and the refugees' district, though if caught, they're quick to run away and not willing to enter into a confrontation. The graffiti is wholly mundane and not particularly difficult to remove, just unpleasant, telling Mirrorbound and refugees alike to "go home" or "go back to Dorchacht", in so much colorful language. Seems there's still some work to do at home, as well.

Welcome to your establishing post for the current situation in Dorchacht! This log takes place through the entire month; characters can come and go as they please. As always, you can direct all your questions HERE. This month we're also putting up a City Tracker for PC actions, both in Aefenglom's plot later on and Dorchacht's log here. Let us know what your character is doing, good or bad! The cut-off for the tracker is February 3rd.

Comments

[mirshikar]

Untamed, huh? [ Good, that Mettaton's surfaced from the stillness of shock. Better, that the guy sets both standard and example for the Wilder recruits: when overcome or unbalanced in the field, do not allow yourself to be paralyzed; keep moving, observe, and always, a l w a y s analyze, lest you become the architect of your own demise. Because... let's face it, not everyone is as crazy dauntless as Asura, the Witch-dragon who is as busy assessing the Screamer's corpse as he is listening to the forest surrounding, perhaps waiting for the inevitable sound of a secondary, shrieking creature to reach his ears the sensory horns on either side of his head. For now, all that is apparent to him is an almost inaudible mechanical hum (for which there can only be one source), and the still-racing heartbeats of the trio both he and Mettaton now accompany. ] I like it.

[ Prefers it, even, to the Wilde of Aefenglom. There's something about this particular stretch of forest, dense and lush, which is evocative of the Hedge, those thorny trods—rife, with the pulse of Faerie and teeming with grotesqueries and fantastical creatures for it—which served as grounds for Summer's ritual hunt. But... hunting is far from the ask today, and the kids have begun to warble anew, fearing the worst has befallen the rest of their party. Several more of their ranks are out there somewhere, and there's n-n-no telling where they might be, or what has happened to them!

Asura gives rise, after that, the scent of the beast in his nose (the pungent smell of entrails and all), and a sepia-toned photo of the corpse saved to the Watch (he and Mettaton, they'll both be debriefed upon returning to Dorchacht, and the creature responsible for the missing recruits will need to be identified ). What the Mirrorbound should do is report back straight away, seeing to the safety of the three novices that had been found in swift succession of one another— there's no guarantee that their equally blundering comrades yet draw breath, and the trek back to the city will take double the time with recruits unaccustomed footslogging through grueling terrain.

Yet all Asura does is card a taloned hand back into the fall of his hair, combing blood through the locks like it's mousse (hey, at least it won't go and drip into his eyes this way), and fixes Mettaton (a Puca, right? had to be. like a Runnerswift, if Runnerswift had mechanical parts, but then, Asura's seen stranger things) with an appraising stare: ] You any good with dispensing first-aid?

[ Because, with a shrug of his shoulders, Asura slips off the pack he's been wearing—it's bloodstained all right, but sealed such that it won't have effected the contents: rations and medical supplies. ]

To be honest, I'm shit in that department. [ Ungentle as he is. The kids are better off with Mettaton cleaning them up. ] Think I'd be put to better use scrying for those who remain missing.

[ And would you look at that, the statement elicits sounds of relief and exclamation from the recruits. No, they didn't want Asura slapping bandages on them with all the abandon he'd employed to behead the Screamer, and yes, confirming that their friends are safe is of paramount importance. Their eyes are on Mettaton, then, large and round and silently pleading for the Mirrorbound's agreement. It's a good plan of action, right? ]

[glitzandglamour]

[Asura says he likes it, and Mettaton knows he doesn't mean his answer. He likes these tangled brambles and the thick green, the monstrous plants and even more monstrous creatures. His eye skirts to scan the furthest distance he can see as he takes it all in, comparing Asura's energy with Dorchacht's Wilde. Mettaton tips his head thoughtfully, taking it in, before pulling his attentions back to their situation.

The intensity with which Mettaton watches Asura isn't robotic or impartial, nor is it uneasy any longer. It's with a quirked brow, a gleam of intrigue in his golden eye, noting the texture of his hair and the shadows cast by his lashes while he moves from hovering over the carcass of a beast to taking care of business. This is business, after all. Mettaton plants his gloved hands on his hips.]

Ha. And a robot like myself should be any better? I relegate even my own repairs to other capable hands... Which could hardly be considered "first-aid" by any stretch of the imagination.

[Of his many Puca features, most are hidden under luxury fabric. But his incisors are long, the tips of his pink heels mutated into silvery rabbit toes, blistering skin, and curling metal. His thighs bow, making way for wider hips and thicker muscle. ..."Muscle." It's an awkward ordeal, being part-way through a transformation with months left to go. Worse yet as a metal Puca with nothing suggesting "health" anywhere organic on his body. For Dorchacht's young Wilders to be giving him shiny, pleading eyes for first-aid by his hand instead of Asura's by preference, then, speaks greater volumes about the Witch than it does about him. They do not want to be handled by the likes of this rough, powerful beast of a man, so much that they'd take the dubiously experienced robot tending to their injuries.

Mettaton can't help smirking at the situation, amused. He eyes Asura's pack, recognizing some of the supplies. (A blessing and a curse: while some he recognizes from his time in Aefenglom, a lot are recognized from... movies. He thinks that's a good thing, but objectively, not so much.)]

However. I have been seen in the Coven for medical reasons more times than I'd care to count... So I'll consider that "good" enough. [A wry smile directed toward Asura.] I should be able to muster some of the tenderness complimentary to a man so rugged and commanding. Besides. Scrying, at a time like this, is incredibly helpful.

[He goes right into action, much to the pained relief of the recruits. They try not to show it, of course, (especially not the two who consider Asura to be their mentor,) but they both perk up and relax all at once. Mettaton starts by dramatically pulling at the black glove he wears over his hand and moves next toward looking for whatever is meant to clean. He thinks that's what happens first. Especially as blood mingles liberally with dirt and grime. A decent call for someone who's never done first-aid.]

Poor at first-aid or not, you have quite the talent for killing. It's something I've never witnessed before. [Puts his own half-hearted attempt at murder to shame!]

[mirshikar]

[ You have quite the talent for killing, Mettaton says, and Asura—already in the midst of making preparations for scrying—lets loose a bark of a laugh, flashing a mouthful of dragon's teeth as he grins in good humor, mirthful like no other. Mettaton, with his heavily modulated voice, articulates his observations like mordant flattery, each volley of his synthesized speech carrying with it more complex notes of dynamism than most humans a l l while a gloved hand sits pretty atop a cocked hip (at least, until tending to the recruits takes priority over posturing).

And Asura? Well, call him charmed. He likes Mettaton as much as he likes the Wilde and the Screamer it birthed, his Mirrorbound companion some fantastic amalgamation of organic, inorganic, and Talam's magic. But there's always a price, isn't there, for being so aberrant in composition. For the Screamer, it had been a surplus of weak points (two heads instead of one, what a riot), and for Mettaton... it's blistering skin where flesh creeps up from metal. Likely discordant natures, too, but hey— that's true for all those transitioning into Monsters.

From his vantage point (crouched low on the ground again, a few paces away from the Screamer's carcass), Asura flicks his eyes up, surveying Mettaton as the robot goes through the pack of supplies, thoroughly lacking in hesitation despite that rejoinder of and a robot like myself should be any better? from before. And that, there, is either a good sign or a bad one.

Amused, Asura huffs— ] What's gone and made you so sure it's talent, then, if you're absent a gauge of comparison? Could've been a fluke.

[ No, it couldn't have been (it'd been a grisly kill, yes, but decapitations of larger beasts are seldom clean, and the King's clearly accustomed to it—beheading), but then, Asura's never passed up on the opportunity to razz someone jest and find out exactly how combat oriented Mettaton may be.

Not everyone is Summer (least of all the trio of recruits, all of which provide Mettaton with direction where it is needed, advocating that one of the canteens of water in the pack will do the trick for cleaning wounds; that topical antiseptic should come afterward), but most among the Mirrorbound can fight with decent capability. The way Mettaton had gone still before, it had reeked of something animal (and not at all robot), and Asura's keen to chalk it up to Puca instinct. So maybe, there's more to Mettaton, and if so, it'll be be a boon— there's no doubt that Asura can handle (rugged and commanding, indeed) the offensive line, but someone needs to handle defense (and the would-be Wilders) too. ]

Don't think your alacrity as a medic is a fluke, though. [ Don't think for a second that Asura had missed it, that theatrical gesture of 'snapping' on practitioner's gloves. It brings a grin (wry, not so different from Mettaton's own), to his lips. ] Are all robots so assured, or is that just you?

[ Color the King curious (genuinely so), as he finishes with digging out a divot (by way of hand) from the peat-soil which sustains the Wilde's tangled thicket of vegetation. A bout of evocation sees the left-behind depression filled with water, its reflective surface the first tool Asura uses to scry. The second is a needle of crystal, set to float upon the miniature pool of Asura's design, its point acting as a compass (direction, to accompany whatever vision it is that Asura receives) which whirls and whirls, constantly in motion from the moment when the King invokes the spell to—

—the instant when it ends, that crystal needle-point swinging in the direction of the Screamer's corpse and staying there. ]

...fuck. [ A guttural, resounding, exasperated like no other f u c k. It draws the attention of the recruits, demands that they remain on high alert, regardless of the stage of care they're in.

Well now, that can't possibly be good news, can it? ]

[glitzandglamour]

Not all of them! I'm flattered... I AM the only robot quite like me. In all respects. I would say I have a verve for all I put myself into. Not just crude medicine.

[Thank you, helpful Wilder, for the tip about the canteen. Mettaton trades it for the antiseptic with a flourish of his wrist, idly moving to the trio on easy steps. Their wounds are awful up close, he thinks with an appraising eye, and glances over the first kid's shoulder at how comparatively unscathed Asura is. They must be thinking the same thing: he easily outclasses them all. Doesn't this count as justification?

Mettaton considers shortly his perception of Asura's ability to deal a killing blow. Asura's right: he has nothing to compare him to save for a small human child with an absence of killing intent, whose strike was practiced, straight and true, but void of the desire to kill. It all comes down to his feeling. For a monster such as himself, intent is palpable. No longer can he yank people's souls from their bodies and examine it for himself, but it's something electric in the air. Their experience, their mercy, their passion, their joy, all put on display when they land a strike. Mettaton thinks fondly about how expressive these creatures of flesh are, even without the magic of a monster's soul.

...Never mind any of that. Intuition's enough for Mettaton, who saw readiness and ease. It wasn't a clean operation, sure, but he decides that's the most fluke part of all.

(An error, on his part. Weapon though Mettaton was built to be, he's not programmed with anything special to help him play the role, to his detriment. All he has are his observational skills, which are trained by human dramatization.)]

You could say I also have a good eye for talent. You could have had a stroke of luck... But that was something else.

[He'd been working on one of their shoulders, the Monster girl handing him the supplies he'd need in the order she thinks they go. The three don't seem to mind that they're no longer scrutinized for their poor performance, and watch eagerly as the King of Summer wraps up his preparation for divination. . . . .

And curses. Mettaton freezes. If his ears weren't wrapped, and if they weren't useless as-is, they'd stand upright in attention. He feels the impending sense of danger, or he thinks he does — he's only felt it once before, to his recollection. The TV star tilts his chin down, watching carefully as the trio of Dorch's Wilders try to calm their thudding hearts.]

...Asura?