☆ Event Log: Snatched, Part One

[faileas]

Event Log: January, Snatched - Part One

I. The Fires (14th) Though it began this month with petty vandalism, before long, things escalate. On the evening of the 14th, when many are settling down for the night, fires blaze to life simultaneously all over the city, though they seem to cluster in places that Mirrorbound and refugees frequent. Homes, businesses, market stalls, the Barracks, the Residential Districts, they could pop up anywhere, but the worst of them seem to hit different locations within the Haven. The refugees stand to lose a lot in the fires, everything they've built up since arriving here at the end of September, and Mirrorbound stand to suffer damage to the homes or businesses they've built in Aefenglom. No doubt everyone is quick to catch on, but with so many locations burning at once, help is thin on the ground. As soon as they're alerted, the Coven sends out a call to all Witches, Merrow, water-based Dragons, anyone who can manipulate water or ice to help put out the fires across town before they can spread. With the city plan so tight and buildings so close together, it's a real worry. They'll accept all hands, even those with no particular water-based talents - anybody can carry buckets, after all. Bucket brigades made up of mostly Monsters form from the River Temese out to pass water to where it's needed most. Others with fire magic or resistances are asked to search the buildings still on fire for anyone still trapped inside. On the streets, more set up stations to treat burns and smoke inhalation, and to check people over for worse injuries. It takes a couple of hours to put out the last of the flames, but thanks to quick action, no lives are confirmed lost. The City Guard is present at the sites of the fires in the hours afterward, questioning witnesses and determining the sources with both magical and Monster-ability-based methods, but as the chaos calms down, it quickly becomes clear that 1. this is a case of purposeful arson, and 2. not all witnesses are present. Maybe it's your friend, or family member, or just an acquaintance you know you saw go into their house at the end of the day, but they're conspicuously absent from the crowds gathered on the streets. Those who are Bonded to a missing person feel it first, though - a horrible sensation like a pillow over the face or a tightening in the chest, smothering their Bond to barely anything, except the very rare flicker of something, a tiny spark lost to the darkness as soon as it's felt. The sudden absence of them is like a case of phantom limb, something that should be there suddenly isn't, but yet it isn't quite an annullment or breaking of the Bond. It's still there, just muted and tamped down. It feels a little different for everyone, maybe painful or maybe just uncomfortable, or maybe, in the cases of new or less-close Bonds, it simply feels as if it never existed. Regardless, those Bonded can't be found through Bonds. It's like those loved ones have vanished, without a trace. The City Guard and Coven representatives alike will seek to make a comprehensive list of all who have gone missing, but Mirrorbound cooperation will be needed for that; they would know better than anyone, because the missing ones are all Mirrorbound or refugees.

II. The Lost Souls (14th - 20th) CW: Torture, captivity, restraints. You were spirited away in the middle of the night. Maybe you were out, or maybe you were safe in your own home, but either way, someone managed to get the drop on you. Upon waking, everything is fuzzy, until clarity returns suddenly and violently. It's possible to remember a struggle, an enchanted darkness that might have enveloped you, maybe even a glimpse of the face of the human or Witch who grabbed you, but now you're stuck in a small, stone cell, the only entrance covered in shiny new bars thick enough to hold back a rampaging Dragon. The hall beyond is also stone and dimly lit by sparse magitech lights and the soft, runic glow of spells drawn on the walls and floors. There are more cells like yours, filled with more Monsters and Witches like you. What's worse, maybe you're alone, or maybe another poor soul is trapped with you - the space isn't exactly large enough for two, but the comfort might be nice. Witches will find their magic restrained, tamped down with a spell similar to the Coven's punishment for lawbreaking. Monsters' restraints are more traditional - muzzles, chains, manacles, and particular weaknesses that differ from Monster type to Monster type, such as silver or iron, water, or the lack of water. Even if, by some small mercy, a person finds themselves with their hands free, all of the captives' Watches have been taken, along with most other belongings on them. The uncertainty of your new location doesn't last for long. It's only a matter of time before people pass through the cellblock in pairs or trios, talking to each other and ignoring the captives behind bars, checking up on the spells that line the room. Those with keen memories will realize - these are not the same people who took them in the first place. All are human, and they all share a familial resemblance - black hair, violet eyes, pointed noses, and unpleasant sneers. Over time, with observation (and what else are you going to do, while you wait for the worst?), maybe frequenters of the Coven will pick out a familiar face, a haughty, unpopular Witch named Constance Rathmore who refuses to associate with Mirrorbound in classes, or those familiar with the law might pick out a mid-ranked member of the City Guard named Godfrey Rathmore, who perhaps looks the other way when refugees are harassed. As the hours tick by, it becomes obvious that there are maybe 22 of the Rathmore family, the only ones with access to this corridor. Other voices, maybe familiar from the kidnapping, can be heard outside the main doors at times, but they never enter, and seem none the wiser as to what is actually happening. a. The Torments And what is happening? Something sinister. It's usually a different set of family members, a pair of cousins, the daughter or the son, occasionally even the matriarch and her son and daughter-in-law (who may be recognized as long-time members of Parliament). Their methods and motivations may be a bit different, but they share one thing - innate cruelty, and a hatred for those they see as a plague on Aefenglom, those harbingers of unwanted change. Sometimes they inflict pain on captives right there through the bars of the cells, with nasty spells or physical instruments, but more often, they choose a victim or two to remove from their cell, still in restraints, to take down the hall, through the heavy door at the opposite end from the entrance. The wide room at the end is a place of horrors: instruments of torture lining tables, heavy restraints, and glass jars to receive any bits or blood they might separate from the original owners, to sell on the black market. The runes on the walls and floor in this room are different as well - this is advanced, forbidden magic, practiced by the daughter Constance on brand new test subjects. When the family members have grown bored or tired themselves out, they return their current playthings to a cell - not always the same cell with the same cellmate, not always with the same restraints, but every time they ensure that it will be difficult to escape or fight back. b. The Whispers While the Rathmores do not often speak directly to captives, they speak to each other quite a bit, as do the others who occasionally pass outside the heavy door at the entrance and simply seem to serve as watchmen outside the corridor. It's easy to get snippets of conversation between the horrors. What else are you going to do, besides wait, and listen, and plot your escape? "Shame about Uncle Rodolphus. Scarred by the mist, his Black Market business raided." "None of it would have happened if they hadn't provoked Dorchacht. It was Drummond's Witch in our city who unleashed that awful gas, as retribution for what they did over there..." "...-Destabilizing a whole city like that, and there are only a hundred of them give or take. Imagine what they'll do to Aefenglom if we don't stop it." "They'll all want to leave after this, surely. We'll go for another batch in a couple of weeks, once Godfrey convinces the Guard to stop looking." "Good. Maybe Dorchacht will take them. Them and their brutal revolutionaries..." "...-Father thinks we can control them if he manages to get in touch with his contact in Dorchacht. They had that spell, you know? Like the collars, but better. Maybe then we can sell them off, make some money back to cover our losses..." "...-All this pushing for equality. The whole economy will collapse. Everyone has their place in a functioning society, right, sister?"... "...-heard from Mr. Rathmore himself they're doing magic in there. A spell to send the Mirrorbound home, and the refugees along with them." "Then why did we have to grab them like that? You'd think they'd want to leave." "The Coven wants them here, obviously. It's a power-play, there's no way they'd allow Mr. Rathmore to do this..." "...-I don't know about this, the Rathmores always seemed a little extreme-..." As a reminder: while this prompt contains a general content warning for torture, please make sure to leave decently specific content warnings in your headers for anything that may be uncomfortable for other players to stumble across. The level of torture experienced by each character is up to the individual players - please respect each other's limits!

III. The Ones Left Behind (14th - 20th) Meanwhile, out in the city, the atmosphere is a new kind of tense. The papers pick up the story pretty quickly, so before long, it seems that everyone knows about it. In the days since the fires, repairs seem to be on the backburner; the remaining refugees especially worry for their missing friends and loved ones, and the missing Mirrorbound. The graffiti stops entirely, as do nasty comments in the streets. The upper-class, when they come into contact with the remaining Mirrorbound, cannot meet their eyes, or even react with genuine sympathy, a rare few even saying in hushed murmurs that they hope they find their people. Vandalizing their property is one thing, it seems, but people simply vanishing, Bonds being smothered... that's another. Even if they don't worry for the Mirrorbound, they worry for their own safety in Aefenglom now. On the other hand, residents of the Western Residential District, primarily Monsters but including a fair few humans as well, stop by the Haven more often, bringing food and kind words, and asking after the disappearances with real concern. The City Guard is an increased presence on the streets, trying to track down witnesses who may have information, but without warrants, their hands are tied in a lot of cases. Some Mirrorbound are asked quietly by the Lead Investigator if they wouldn't mind looking into some of the sources of the fires, and trying to track down anyone who might have seen something - they can operate a little more loosely, not being bound by the same bureaucracy as the Guard. They're promised Guard and Coven cooperation and support in this. The demand for artists increases in the days after the abduction. Many of the refugees especially will seek out anyone who can draw to help them create fliers about the missing people to post around town, to raise awareness. Maybe they want to make posters of another refugee, or maybe they want posters made of particular Mirrorbound faces who helped them in the past. They're distressed, but they're pulling together as a community - and it's clear they consider all the Mirrorbound a part of it, judging from how they'll try to pull anyone in to their efforts to put the 'missing' posters up around the city. The Coven, too, is in a flurry of worry, second only to the refugees, who are missing some of their own as well. Many of the regular classes are disrupted and become impromptu Divining sessions, circles of Witches holding hands and chanting in rooms filled with incense smoke, making concentrated efforts to determine the location of their missing fellows. After all, many Mirrorbound are their classmates, and they want to see them returned safely. Anyone passing through the Coven may get pulled into one of these sessions - Witches to lend their magic to the circle, Monsters who know any of the missing to act as foci. Unfortunately, nothing concrete turns up in the fleeting visions they do get, and the backlash is immense, resulting in splitting migraines. It's magical interference for sure. Luckily, Miss Aerianna, the middle-aged Arachne caretaker to the Dreamers (who, she'll say, are currently unreachable - they're trying to suss out the missing Mirrorbound as well), is well-versed with Divination headaches, and is around distributing her supposed cure-all, which smells like swamp-water and tastes twice as bad. At least it works on the headaches. While the part of the city who wanted to see the Mirrorbound gone have quieted down some, the part of the city that welcomes them has grown louder, providing what support they can to try to find those lost souls who have vanished. The investigation briefs will be posted under location-specific headers down below! Feel free to thread underneath them with others investigating the same area, or collaborate with other teams to share information. We decided to go ahead and allow for everyone who signed up to investigate whichever area they're interested in rather than splitting characters into mod-decided teams, but we encourage working together!

Welcome to Part One of January's event, Snatched! The sign-ups thread is here - it's not too late to get involved. Only the kidnapped characters who will escape on the evening of the 20th is closed out to new sign-ups. Headers for the investigations are here. Part Two of this event will be posted on the 21st and will include the escape, rescue and bringing the perpetrators to justice.

And a note for all! If your character does anything significant during Part 1 or Part 2, we want to hear about it on the city tracker! Make sure your submissions are in by Feb. 3rd, because a special aftermath post will go up on the 4th.

Comments

GOOD DON'T BE

[belligerentwarrior]

[Their prison's air was so choked with the acrid odors of blood and char and iron and worse that Fang hadn't noticed her Bonded's scent under it all, but recognition dawned instantly in her listless features when the hood vanished.]

[Fang herself had been lifeless these last few days, her forced shifts draining away whatever bit of energy and strength survived her torments, essentially starving without proper food to fuel those shifts. But any time she could hear Chariot, caught a glimpse of her, a spark of that lost strength returned, and the clarity surfacing in Fang's eyes was no different now. Her teeth grit at the mere sight, and her hands tried to curl into fists—but they only twitched uselessly, the skin and muscle and tendon under her silver manacles blackened and scorched. Her neck was the same way, under the silver collar.]

[But Fang didn't call out. Her captors wanted a reaction. They wanted suffering, be in physical or emotional, and if there was even a little bit she could deny these brutes... but it didn't stop the little flicker of distress and frustration in the stunted Bond before it grew quiet again.]

Now, now... Wake up. It's time to begin, dear...

[Their tormentor pat Chariot's face a couple times in what could've been a warm gesture, if it hadn't been deliberately over a freshly dark bruise. Fang's lips twitched into a silent snarl.]

Are you ready to choose? If you don't, I'll take it as the less favorable one.

[beariot]

[ Chariot only just barely responded, waxy eyes staring deep into the middle distance glancing over the room before finally focusing on the woman before her. It took a moment, but a moment was all, and the recognition set in... and along with it the despair.

Fang... Fang had been captured too. She had suffered, so visibly suffered. The burns, the bruises, the pain so visible on her that it burned itself into her vision, an image that she'd never be able to set aside. But what's worse, she was so terribly, horrifyingly aware of her own state, her own wounds, her battered bones and broken skin, and Fang being forced to see her like this... to be put in this cruel game...

She mouthed "I'm sorry" not to remain silent, but because she couldn't speak. And what's more... that wasn't what their captors wanted, and a slapjack was brought across her cheek from to other side, sending a stream of blood from her lip. ]

Sentimental one, this. That wasn't a nod OR a shake, do we need to explain the rules again?

[belligerentwarrior]

The pair of them both.

[That cruel blow sent rage sparking through Fang again, stoking her spirit for the first time in days (an eternity), and her body reacted; fur started to creep forward and her teeth grew, but unlike her usual emotional shifts, it did so haltingly, and didn't get far before reverting. Fang was too hurt, too hungry, too exhausted for even an involuntary shift, and even if that was for the better, the powerlessness it hammered home ached like one of her wounds.]

Let's try this again, hmm? You really don't want us to get creative... On three.

[Damn all of this! The count seemed so slow, yet so fast, and as much as Fang wanted to dig in her heels in spite Chariot would suffer more for it. And... she thought she knew was going to happen. Chariot, with her gentle soul and too-kind heart... she'd try to take all of this on herself, wouldn't she?]

[But when the "three" came, Fang shook her head. She had to try, had to offer her Bonded an out, even if she deeply doubted Chariot would take it.]

[beariot]

[ That doubt was well formed, and Chariot had no will to take the offer, not if it meant Fang being hurt as well. She shook her head just as quickly, eyes pinched, as if daring herself to imagine any different scenario, to block out the pain she knew she was about to see because her doubts reflected Fang's, that she'd never allow another possibility.

They were both damned fools. ]

[belligerentwarrior]

How cute, [One of them says, in a tone that suggests utter disgust.]

[There's no warning before they seized Fang's collar and yanked upward; the silver slid up from the ruined flesh to where the nerves haven't haven't been damaged. The instinctive need to get away from the feared metal bloomed again alongside the blistering pain, and Fang tried to scream, but the noise comes out choked from the collar's pressure on her throat.]

[Fang's vision swam with dark spots when she was released, sucking in erratic, ragged breaths; she wished she could say there wasn't a pained whimper in there, but the turnskin slumped in her chair, her earlier spark of defiance dampened a little. She hardly even heard their next words.]

Was that already too much? Don't faint on the first round, now. That wouldn't be fun.

[beariot]

[ The violence wasn't just given to Fang, either. Chariot's voice spiked in a choked cry as that slapjack was brought across her face again, this time on the side with the rune embedded in it, a furious shock blitzing through Chariot's skin as it made contact, making all of those fresh wounds burn. ]

Now... let's try that one more time.

[belligerentwarrior]

[Her consciousness dragged itself back together as they begun to count again, her instinctive need to protect her pack desperately trying to rouse her.]

One.

[They all saw that outcome coming. That was the point, wasn't it? To torment people like them emotionally. People who valued those they loved above their own wellness with every fiber of their being.]

Two.

[Fang lifted her head the best she could, looking at those burns and bruises. One of them would have to suffer through this again, and the thought of them tormenting Chariot for something they saw as a game...]

[...maybe that was the harder choice, wasn't it? The worse torture. Bowing out, and living with the knowledge of what happened to the other for it.]

[The guilt would eat Chariot alive, wouldn't it?]

Three.

[Fang almost didn't choose in time, giving a weak nod of her head, eyes watching her love's face, and feeling her own heart break further.]

[beariot]

[ It wasn't an active action, with any thought behind it. Chariot had just been still reeling, deeply so, from the shock of the runic slapjack, fingertips still twitching, and thus... did nothing. She hadn't even really processed the countdown. Her vision was so blurred that she could hardly say she even saw what Fang did. Processing was just... seemingly impossible in that moment.

Which was deeply unfortunate. ]

Well... if those aren't some interesting colors. The beast sells out their witch. Just like you said it would, eh?

[ The other captor chuckled, setting the slapjack aside on the tray and pulling out... something else. Something mechanical in nature. Chariot offered little resistance when the captor kneeled down, dragging off her boot and tossing it aside before he latched the machine onto her foot and calf... and began to crank.

The joint was immediately strained, pain shooting through Chariot again, but of a different sort now, and her scream was much more pronounced, cracking her lungs. ]

[belligerentwarrior]

[Fang's eyes widened at the sight of the horrific device, a new kind of panic piercing her heart.]

[A laugh met the chuckle in kind, a rich, smug sound for calling the bet. Fang felt a hand in her hair, petting almost, but it hardly registered in the wake of her horror.]

Good girl... we'll get you your treat later.

[Fang unwittingly lurches forward at that scream, mindless of her restraints, and pain nauseatingly lances through her again. It blinds her for the moment, head spinning, and as her senses come swirling back, doubt paralyzes her prior resolve.]

[Could she... really put Chariot through this again? This time, the nausea didn't fade.]

[beariot]

Didn't quite hear the crack, but I'm sure we will if I crank it again, heh. [ The other one chuckled, satisfied with how well the device worked. ] Shame it only works on human feet.

[ Ursula felt tears stinging her face, burning into the cuts. She could feel the tearing, skin and deeper, in her foot, and the pain was throbbing in her mind, and still...

Just the slightest flash of red, and she took those anguished eyes towards Fang, letting them focus, take in the picture of her beloved bonded, and...

Biting her lip, she shook her head. ]

I can't believe it. This one must have a martyr complex. Wasted, I tell you.

[belligerentwarrior]

[No. No, no, please no. She wasn't worth suffering like this for.]

Bet you we can break that complex into little bits by the end of the week.

[But Fang had to. The guilt Chariot carried already crushed her. Fang jerked her head up and down in a poor mockery of a nod, absolutely sickened to her core, and this time didn't lift her head. This was the harder choice. She had to.]

Another treat for the beast.

[This time, that hand seized in Fang's matted hair, pulling sharply. Her captor's breath was warm on her ear, a sadistic smile in the words.]

Watch, beast. Watch, or he won't stop.

[They wanted a reaction. She knew they did, but Fang couldn't stop the pained noise that escaped through clenched teeth, tears stinging her eyes as she raised her head.]

[beariot]

[ Chariot didn't need it explained to her. Through the oppressive mire of her own pain, the bond so muted, she could still feel that spike of Fang's intentions in her mind. And she knew, between the two of them... while Fang had the heartier physical constitution, Chariot had the far, far weaker heart. For both their sakes, this was the way it had to be. Fang's resolve... she didn't have it, not the resolve to face the suffering of someone she loved, knowing it could cripple her worse than this damned device.

The device was cranked. The snap of bone, the shredding of tendons and muscle, was audible. Chariot couldn't even scream, her mouth just gaped, eyes wide with shock. ]

Ah, there it is. That's the sound I want to hear... shame her voice seems to be gone, but it's proof this thing works like I wanted it to! That foot is basically a sack, now, ha ha!

[ He gestured, enthusiastically, as he released the tension in the device, pulling it away to show the handiwork, blood already flowing over where the wedges had been pressed. Just... crushed. All of it. ]

Now, one last time, miss... is this animal really worth all this? I could heal that foot of yours now. Right now, if you wished. Just give me the word, and it'll be your little treat, and I'll snap this thing onto every extremity that bitch across from you has for making you go through this.

So, what'll it be?

[ Chariot could barely think. The pain, the shock, was so numbing that she couldn't even really make out the individual sensations of the damage in her leg. But she could still feel Fang's presence in her soul, still knew that this would be nothing compared to what that man promised. She couldn't do that... not for anything in this world. She couldn't bear it.

She shook her head. Again. ]

... Disappointing. I'll have to get that special stuff. Wait here for a bit, won't you?

[belligerentwarrior]

[The humans might not have heard the tearing, the beginning fractures the first time around, but Fang had. This time, it was a horrible thunder in her sensitive ears, and she screamed where Chariot couldn't—half a raw sound of anguish and half a primal, hateful roar.]

[Her mind was trying to slip away, the Monster in her seeping through the cracks with a wild, burning need to protect; her teeth elongated for an instant, the fur creeping forward across her skin receding moments later, her starved body unable to sustain the shift. For one ruinous, blinded second, Fang wondered if she pulled hard enough, would her silver manacles burn through her hands? What would a few fingers be in light of slipping free and tearing that man's throat out with her teeth, feeling the life-blood leave him—]

[The warning tug on her collar is still painful enough to jolt her from her snarling reverie, her bright flash of rage collapsing into a hateful smolder without the energy to sustain it. Chariot should've taken the offer. Fang... Fang could endure it. She could.]

[But it had to be this way. This agony ravaging her heart was exactly why it had to be this way. Why she had to make this choice.]

[...what she wouldn't give to make her love stop hurting.]

—Chariot.

[But all Fang could offer was one quiet, croaked word, desperate and filled with everything she wished she could say; that she loved her, that this would end, that she deserved nothing of this and that she was strong, that Fang wanted nothing more than to hold her through the pain...]

[beariot]

[ Chariot raised her head, weakly, the pain still numbing everything else, but she definitely still heard Fang's voice, calling to her, desperate to heal her, to comfort her...

It inspired a smile, however brief, both inspired by that voice, and given to its source, to show Fang she was still there, still surviving. She'd be okay, she'd... ]

Here we are. This stuff I've been cooking up for some time... who knew Cwyld infected stuff could produce interesting results, hmm?

[ The man entered again, holding up a vial and a syringe, as well as a small length of rubber hose. He set them aside on the tray, rolling up Chariot's sleeves. ]

You see, the problem with having the sort of specialties and inclinations I have is that healing magic always seems to catch up with you in the end. So I thought to myself... 'What it?'

What if I create something, an anethema if you will, towards healing? To drive away all of the defenses a body could produce against pain, against agony, harm, destruction, sickness. What if you could render someone completely unable to recover from what you've done to them...

That they'll remember you, forever.

[ Once Ursula's sleeve was torn away, the hose was tied over her upper arm, squeezing tight. There were already some cuts and bruises there, but the man of course paid them no mind. ]

You. Monster. You watch this. This is what your Bond has earned you. This is what you Mirrorbound, perverting our ways, ruining all that we've managed to do for ourselves, this is what it's earned you. Just like you poisoned us, I'm going to poison you...

[ He drew up a portion of the black liquid in the vial, several milileters worth, and smacked a spot on Chariot's arm, before jabbing the needle inside, pushing down the substance into Ursula, the blackness spreading through her veins, and her voice crying out again. ]

[belligerentwarrior]

[She smiled.]

[It wasn't fair. Chariot didn't deserve this. Only the gods knew how much blood Fang had on her hands, the number lost to a forgotten history, yet Chariot—that loving, odd, brilliant woman that only sought to make others happy—was the one to suffer, again and again.]

[Just like her family. How many more times was Fang going to be spared when she was the most deserving, passed up for her due while better people bore steeper prices? What kind of sick joke was Lady Luck playing?]

[Pain jolted Fang's scalp again when she tried to turn away, forcing her head back around. She screwed her eyes shut instead, trying to block out that agonizing scream with that resilient smile.]

"This is what your Bond has earned you."

[This wasn't fair. It should've been her.]

What did I say about watching, animal?

[The iron grip disappeared from her matted hair, hands settling on her forehead and cheeks to pry her eyes open. It's an arrogant, careless thing; before the man with the vial can shout a warning, Fang's teeth found purchase in her tormentor's hand.]

[His shrill scream was primally satisfying, and the magic-laden blood on her tongue more invigorating and divine than Fang probably should ever admit.]

I WILL HANG YOU WITH THAT COLLAR!!

[The world moved violently; gravity came back with a vengeance as Fang and her chair smashed back into the ground, thrown by some great force. All sorts of pain stunned her, and Fang's vision swam with dark spots, but it was difficult to care. Chariot smiled.]

"That they'll remember you, forever."

[The man with the vial was right. Absolutely right. Fang would remember him, his face, his scent, his sound, etched into the foundations of her memory. Someday, she would find him again.]