natha: (Default)
ɴᴀᴛʜᴀ orbiters ❰ mod collective ❱ ([personal profile] natha) wrote in [community profile] nysalogs2018-02-21 09:48 pm

( event ) FIRE & BLOOD

The atmosphere has been tense in both cities ever since the new batch of refugees were shot down out of the sky. Natives and refugees alike will note that things are steadily growing worse and worse... until suddenly, the tension snaps. Chaos erupts on one seemingly ordinary night and will continue until early March, when it all comes to a head. The question is, as always... what will you do?

You may submit an AC-eligible thread set in either Olympia or Wyver for 1 OLYMPIA REP POINT OR 1 WYVER REP POINT respectively, HERE or HERE, so long as the thread involves your character complying with their faction of choice's goals and responsibilities.

As a note, faction compliance in this case refers to actions that benefit the faction in the long term. Meaning that while citizens might be revolting against one another temporarily, assisting their fellow people and business will be considered as faction compliance for the purposes of submitting REP. (For example, raiding the palace in Olympia would earn 1 Wyver REP, whereas helping put out the fires in the palace would earn 1 Olympia REP.)

You may write threads and prompts in both cities, but ICly, they should take place on different days. Please also note that travel between factions is heavily scrutinized during the events of this log. If your character travels between cities, please report it here.
EMBERS IN OUR BLOODLINES    
CHAOS ERUPTS. The city hasn't been exactly peaceful for some time — discontented grumbles have been directed at anyone who exhibits even the slightest amount of pro-Wyver (anti-Olympian) sentiment — but now, the tensions have not simply worsened: they've outright snapped.

It wouldn't be unusual to start your day to the sound of breaking glass. Perhaps it's a neighbor's window, or if you're truly unlucky, it's your own. Regardless, it's clear that there are a number of people who decide that violence is the answer. Well-armed shops such as The Sharper are left alone, but The Silk Wyrms, The Wyvernest, and other smaller businesses aren't so lucky. Visit the tailor, and you'll find that someone has broken in and slashed many of the in-progress custom orders; at the dragon cafe, someone has set many of the miniature dragons loose in a bid to purge the city of anything tainted by Wyver's influence. Many shopkeeps are fearful that the culprits might return. They're offering good silver for anyone who will retrieve stolen goods, round up the missing dragons, or find proof of who the culprits were — and for protection in case the culprits return. Linger, and you'll be in a position to potentially stop a repeat attack when the rioters come back with torches and bricks.

Members of the Royal Guard have their hands full with the fights breaking out to attend to every instance of violence against the businesses. Shouting in the squares escalates into bloody brawls — and if you spend any time outside, you'll soon see why. There's a strange mist in the most populated parts of the city, which you may recognize as having similar effects to the waters of Flona Cove that lower one's inhibitions. It spurs those who would usually agree to disagree into shouting matches, and influences people who would normally shout into throwing punches. Members of the Guard, usually a mediating force, are joining the fray themselves.

Even you aren't immune to the mist's effects. Whether you're protecting your home or place of employment, chasing down vandals, rounding up escaped dragons from the dragon cafes, or even just observing what's going on with someone else, you're likely doing it much more aggressively than you typically would... but then, this level of aggression seems to be becoming Olympia's new normal.



SINNERS TO PLAY AS SAINTS. The theaters are miraculously untouched, but The Life and Death of Nithor the Exalted is no longer being put on. Instead, passers-by are being pulled onstage to play out other scenes from Olympia's glorious history. Those who don't want to play along don't have much of a choice; those orchestrating the scenes have people out in the crowds to bring people up by force if necessary.

The base scenario is simple enough: the noble Olympian puts the pathetic Wyvern in their place. Perhaps it's a fight scene: the Olympian comes out on top, of course, and the crowd roars for blood. Wyver weapons are only props, however, but the Olympian weapons? They're very, very real. Or perhaps it's a callback to when the Olympian people marked captured Wyverns with brands to assert their dominance — there is real fire, and real brands, on stage.

If you pass as Olympian, you may be pressed to perform. If you don't want to really hurt someone, you'd best learn how to fake it — refuse to play your part, and the crowd will very quickly turn against you. If you're too obviously not Olympian, or if they recognize you as someone who went off-script last time (and they have very good memory), you'll likely be pressed into the role of an unfortunate Wyvern. Hopefully your co-star is gentle...

Break a leg. Literally, as the case may be.



CRITICAL CONDITION. With all the chaos, it's only a matter of time before people start to seek medical attention. However, along the way to The Sanctuary, they'll be faced with an almost insurmountable barricade. It isn't immediately obvious who put it up, but it's clear that nobody will be getting through it without significant effort.

Approach, and a voice will ring out warning you to keep back. It's one of the employees at the clinic; she has a crossbow in her shaking hands, and if pressed, she'll admit that they put up the barricade to keep out rioters. She understands that there are people who need their help, but the decision was made to keep themselves and their supplies safe so that when the dust settles, they can set out en masse and help more people than they could if they were raided.

If you're accompanied by someone with grievous injuries, or if you're terribly injured yourself, you may be able to convince her to let you in for a quick patch-up, but they're not giving any medicines out. If you need more supplies, you'll have to figure out another way of getting it — either by overpowering the woman on watch and raiding the clinic yourself, or distracting her so that other members of your group can sneak in and take what they need.

Making matters worse is the gigantic vulture-like creature, much larger than the birds in Murkwell Hollow... and much meaner. This beast doesn't wait for eye contact before it attacks: it swoops down out of the sky when people are gathered at the barricade, snatching up anyone it can grab in its talons, fixing on whoever's closest. However, if someone who killed a vulture is present, it pursues them with relentless determination. If not dealt with, it will attempt to eat the dead and the injured without discrimination. It can be driven off with high difficulty using weapons, magical abilities (except fire, which doesn't affect it), and the terrain to your advantage. It will retreat before it can be killed, presumably so that it can regroup and harry the next batch of people to get close to the barricade.

As it retreats it will drop feathers that can be sold to the Institute for study for 100 silver; one feather per character, please. Sales can be reported here.



PALACE BURNS. Chaos reigns for the better part of a week, and toward the end, it escalates past the point of rioting in the streets — the violence reaches Empress Simwe's palace. In the gardens where Olympians and refugees alike had lit lanterns in unity and remembrance mere weeks before, one careless (or perhaps not so careless) flame catches, spreading to the rest of the grounds and to one of the palace walls. The members of the Royal Guard, already stretched thin, are too preoccupied with trying to contain the blaze to stop anyone from pouring in through the breach.

It's an opportunity that looters and dissidents do not pass up.

Follow them in, and you'll find the elegant surroundings being torn apart. Many of the rioters are those who have it out for Simwe and are hunting for her. As she's nowhere to be found, they settle for the next best thing: setting torch to her portraits. Portraits of the late emperor, on the other hand, are left untouched. The vandals are incredibly vocal in their displeasure with Simwe's policies, and almost fanatical in their opinion that life in Olympia would be much better if Simwe had perished in her husband's place. They turn to violence when the frightened maids and other servants don't have the answers they want as they leave a trail of fire in their wake. Will you use them as a smokescreen for your own venture, or will you intervene?

Further inside, the sticky-fingered will find furnishings, clothing, jewelry — anything that isn't bolted down is fair game. In the library, the gilded titles of priceless books glitter on the shelves; in the wine cellar, Simwe's personal collection of extremely fine vintages waits to be sampled; a mirrored room furnished entirely with pillows is draped in lacy underthings; fragrant salts and bottles of perfume sit in a steam-filled bathing room; in the treasury, looters are hard at work squirrelling away silver and carrying off golden baubles. Nobody looks too closely at anyone's face unless given a reason to, but in the morning, heads will certainly roll. You could make off with your own treasure from the palace with none the wiser, or you could stop one of the looters — maybe it's even a fellow refugee — and turn them in to the guard to help restore some order to this night of chaos.

In the depths of the treasury, there is a group trying to get past a sealed door. They're an unpleasant, volatile lot, and they make a lot of noise about how if they can just get their hands on the heart of the legendary dragon, they'll be able to wipe Wyver from the map once and for all and put someone competent on the throne. After multiple failed attempts, they start offering a reward of 50 silver to anyone who makes an attempt at opening the door.

ABOUT THE DOOR: The inner treasury door is enchanted to stand up to all manner of assaults, both magical and physical. Any attempts to dispel the enchantment will fail, but characters are welcome to make attempts in exchange for cash. While minor force will be harmlessly absorbed by the shields on the door, anything of great strength will be reflected back at its point of origin — so be ready to dodge!

Whether you help the Guard put out the fire, steal from the palace, try and get past the enchanted door, or make attempts to stop the looters, your actions may have consequences later. Please report any significant actions you take here.

NOTE: Characters are welcome to steal a single minor, setting-appropriate item from the palace. Mod approval is not required. Any items of greater import in the palace are locked in a vault and inaccessible.

BLOOD ON MY HANDS LIKE THE BLOOD IN YOU    
FOR GLORY. Meanwhile, in Wyver, the holiday celebrating Nithor's death may have finished, but the spirit is still high. The citizens, eagerly awaiting the results of the contest from earlier in the month, congregate at a large stadium in the East End on the morning of the 21st and encourage refugees to join them — not only will the contest winner be announced, but there will be a series of physical trials to select Wyver's best and brightest. This yearly event is considered the true end to the holiday. They honor those who excel at the arts — whether they be standard arts or the art of combat — and with these trials, they will honor those who excel on the battlefield. King Shanrian himself speaks to kick off the festivities, holding a distinctly human skull in his hands the entire time he's in view.

Everyone, join me in praising the winners of our citywide contest! I was, heh... quite delighted with the meat jelly dish submitted by citizens Clair and Frederick. Such creativity! Meanwhile, dear Shenya loved hearing the beautiful music provided by Diva and Tani Umenosuke. And as you all well know, his vote is my vote.

Now I speak to you on a more serious note: I encourage all of you to join the legacy of those who helped bring down the mad and oppressive Nithor. I ask you all to join the trials. Show the world that we are a people of honor. For we do not seek glory, but fairness, liberty, and truth. Citizens, do you have what it takes to represent your home?



Signing up is simple. Interested parties are to submit their name at the registration desk, and by high noon, the festivities will kick off in full.

First up is a tournament — to thin the numbers down and ensure that only the best of the best make it to the end, participants are matched to a fight until one side is incapacitated. The air is thick with excitement, and bouts continue all day and through the night. Vendors have set up temporary stalls to sell food, toiletries, pillows, and blankets for those who don't wish to miss even a moment of the action.

If you're participating, you will take part in three fights before the finalists are determined; if you are not, you will be free to watch from the audience or, if you're acquainted with people who are fighting, to go behind the scenes to assist them by bringing them water or medicine between matches or even just give them moral support. Either way, you'll notice a slight shift in the air as time goes by.

Midway through the preliminary matches, the atmosphere changes from enthusiastic to outright bloodthirsty. Observers who were content to see a knock out will call for blood. People will start to clamor for the losers to lose their lives, and audience members will find themselves itching for a fight. One wrong look and the fighting might not just be constrained to the ring.

Make it through to the finals, and your trial will be more focused on teamwork: after all, the assassins who took down Nithor had to work together to get their job done. Finalists are paired off to face a variety of beasts, some from Wyver, some from Olympia, and some from other, far-flung parts of the isles. There is no set number of winners — anyone who performs well will be honored with a prize of silver at the end — but the beasts are ferocious, and it will take coordination and exceptional skill to make it out unscathed.

Either way, it's sure to be a spectacle.



HEARTY DIETS. The city's atmosphere does not become peaceful with the conclusion of the trials. Wherever you turn, the people around you seem to be more combative than usual - and in this city, that can be quite the feat.

To mark the end of another successful set of trials, the shamans of the Altar of Volkkra make dragon's blood, which they partake in for one of their rituals, more widely available to the public. Most drink it straight, although there are some who take it mixed in with other drinks. Either way, the effects are the same:
Drinking dragon's blood will feel like drinking liquid fire. It will burn the entirety of its way down and leave you with a presence in your chest that you will carry with you for three days before wearing off. It is a warmth that seems to imbue you with the strength and confidence of the dead dragon. The adrenaline will minimize any great pains, and you will have the sense that the path you choose is right.

Unfortunately, there is a downside. The dragon blood will keep you restless until the effects wear off. Confidence will turn into mindless arrogance. If you and your companion both drink the blood, you will butt heads because you will believe the other is wrong. Additionally, you may experience the need to hoard. The shamans say it is a trial you must endure to learn not to overindulge, but to someone who has never drank before, the feeling will be overwhelming.
Dragon's blood isn't the only variety to partake in. This time of year, the blood of a variety of monsters can be found to drink; it's said that consuming a creature's blood will imbue you with that creature's power. Whether this is true or not remains to be seen — some insist it's a rumor, while others swear its veracity — but fueled by the confidence the dragon's blood has drawn out of them, the natives are very insistent that you try it out, and some may even challenge you to a blood-drinking contest.

There are some who say that they've managed to procure the blood of Olympians, and that ingesting it will sap the strength of the Olympian people and bestow it upon Wyver instead. Some Wyvern natives aren't willing to allow the blood of their most hated enemies past their lips and would instead use Olympian blood to paint out scenes of their destruction, either on the walls like the murals or on charms from the Altar of Volkkra, as it is said to have the same effect. If you're offered some of this "paint," it's probably better to accept. After all, refusal would be very un-Wyvernlike, and you wouldn't want to be marked as the next target for someone hoping to procure Olympian blood, would you?



FANNING FLAMES. Since the trials, natives have lit bonfires throughout the city as a way of showing support for their favorite contenders; the belief is that as long as the flames continue to be fed, the contender will continue to fight well. Even now that the trials are over, the flames burn bright. These contenders are Wyver's hope of victory over Olympia, after all; isn't it better to keep the fires ablaze until they've brought the Olympians to their knees?

But it isn't just wood that they're using for kindling. This time they want a more personal offering. Many of the natives will shed their own blood to throw into the fire, and still more roam the streets in search of people to feed to the flames. You might find yourself one of their targets if you've been too noticeably traveling between the cities on a regular basis, or if you've made the mistake of donning the Olympian colors of white and gold even in a subtle way. Perhaps you come off as a loyal citizen of Wyver, and they've tapped you to assist them with feeding a person to the flames — If you refuse, you might face scrutiny yourself.

Chaos is on the rise. It's a bastardization of celebration that has long since gotten out of hand, although few seem inclined to try and contain it. Those who do are mainly shouted down or silenced by other means, and if you're looking to assist them in quelling the unrest, you'll have to be subtle lest you wind up facing the citizens' ire.

Luckily, there is something to provide a distraction: a gigantic vulture-like creature, much larger than the birds from Murkwell Hollow, has come to hunt . When it descends, it makes to grab anyone with its talons, with one exception — if anyone who killed a vulture in Murkwell is nearby, it will ignore the others and focus its attempts on tearing them apart with a relentless, single-minded determination. If not driven off, the dead and the injured will become its next meal, and it has no qualms about diving into the flames to snatch up bodies, as it's unharmed by fire. It can be driven off with high difficulty using weapons, magical abilities (other than fire), and the terrain to your advantage, but will retreat before it can be killed so that it can regroup and make another attempt at snatching up bodies later.

As it retreats it will drop feathers that can be sold to the Altar of Volkkra for experimentation for 100 silver; one feather per character, please. Sales can be reported here.



BEASTLY EXHIBITS.The shamans of Volkkra, perhaps under the influence of dragon's blood, have their own way of dealing with the unrest. Throughout the week, those protesting the chaos start to vanish, and either from rumors or direct observation it will soon become obvious why: they're being brought to the main Altar of Volkkra, all the way up on Namarak Summit. If you have been attempting to calm people down, you might just find yourselves taken; otherwise, you can tail the shamans to the summit to find what's going on for yourself.

Those taken to the main altar are blindfolded and thrust into the labyrinthine halls without a flame to guide their way. Shamans guard the entrances and exits; inside, all light but that of the Eternal Flame have been extinguished. Other shamans, who take part in the rumored experiments, roam the halls with wicked-looking knives in search of new test subjects. If they come across you, you'll need to either fight or run.

It is possible to escape this, either by overpowering them or by using your wits. It's even possible to find your way to the entrance and fight your way past the shamans guarding it — but the when the first person sets foot out of the halls, the shamans call for backup. Menacing shrieks and roars sound from inside the mazelike halls, and strange, mishmashed creatures emerge from the darkness.

They're angry, and they're willing to lash out at both refugee and shaman alike.

ABOUT THE MONSTERS: They are amalgamations of people and creatures from all over the isles, and each one is different. One might have the head of a Duldrum, the torso and arms of a man, and the lower half of a Glowing Snake; another might look like a Wispurr with a second head of an Unlucky Cat grafted onto it, and the abilities to match. The shamans seem to have been mixing and matching the features and abilities of both named and unnamed creatures as they see fit, and they've whipped them up into a frenzy — these chimeras crave blood, and will not stop until their targets are dead, or they are.

They can be killed with medium difficulty using your own weapons, supplies from the Altar, and any abilities you might possess; survive, and the shamans will let you go with 200 silver as compensation, having decided that you've proven your worth and that your strength may be an asset to Wyver in the future. If your character successfully kills a chimera, please report it here.


FINAL OOC NOTES    
An AC-eligible thread in which your character complies with their faction's goals for 1 REP POINT FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE OR HERE RESPECTIVELY BY MARCH 14th 11:59 PM EST.

We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP.

1 SILVER = 1 US DOLLAR.
ininhuman: (ir41)

Maximus Boltagon | MCU | Olympia

[personal profile] ininhuman 2018-02-22 06:43 am (UTC)(link)
[i. CHAOS ERUPTS]

[ None of what's happening surprises Maximus. He's been here before, he recognized the signs, but he'd been too new and too late in his arrival to try and do anything about it. At first, he thinks, it's nothing. He can handle it. He can weather this.

Apparently, he was wrong.

Even before the mist settles in, his brain is tick-tick-ticking. What had happened, when he'd been here, done that? Left under the collapsed ruins of a mighty city, to starve and die on his own. That was when he was in control. Here, now, the city is turning into frantic madness and it's taking Maximus with it.

He has no control. He knows that. It terrifies him more than he'll admit. Vulnerability does not suit him. Easy, then, to lock himself in his home and bar the windows, watching the door with a restless gaze should anyone but Theon try to come inside. If he's on the street, out of necessity rather than choice, his anxiety is evident. Always looking over his shoulder, always looking at every person who passes, looking for what they might be hiding. His fingers itch for a blade at his side - something to defend himself from the next person who looks at him in just the wrong way.
]


[ii. PALACE BURNS]

[ It's hard to say how Maximus ended up in the palace. He's certainly not here to add to the destruction. Maybe it's the horror of it, the destruction of something so beautiful, that draws him in with the rest of the people, Olympia and Wyver sympathizers alike.

Or, likely, he just hadn't been minding his steps and somehow his feet brought him here. Regardless, he's here.

  • (1) The door is certainly formidable. Maximus watches people struggle, more than content to spectate, until money is offered. And, hey, what is there to lose? Maximus had been gifted a key not long ago, a key that so far has opened any lock he's tried it on, and it's weight is suddenly present in his pocket. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work, and he can only merely shrug at his failed attempt before someone else is pushing in front of him.

  • (2) The feeling of being in a palace under siege is not a good one. Maximus feels suffocated. He works his way back towards the gardens, towards the gates to the streets that will take him to the safety and the darkness of his home. On the way, he spots a small, leafy plant, still untouched by the fires scorching its brethren. If anything has earned Maximus' affections here, it's the variety of natural growing plants, and he scarcely thinks before tucking it up under his arms to take back with him.
  • ]

    Edited 2018-02-22 06:44 (UTC)
    america: (177)

    steve rogers | marvel cinematic universe

    [personal profile] america 2018-02-22 06:44 am (UTC)(link)
    ❚❚❚❚❚ i. OLYMPIA | BRAWLS IN TOWN / MIST

    [ Steve Rogers decides, somewhere in between one brawl fight and the next, to drop the Royal Guard's uniform back home (leaving a quick message for Peggy on his phone) and head back out to mediate some fights dressed more appropriately as Captain America - shield and all.

    It starts off simple enough - he keeps folks from looting and breaking into local shops, he breaks up fights (sometimes by literally throwing himself in between opposing forces), and he makes sure to get people to the medical help they require at the Sanctuary before their wounds are too great. It's tiring work, but it's a duty he's compelled to see through -- and his determination only grows stronger, perhaps even more aggressively, the further into the city he goes. ]


    Hey! [ He shouts, his voice far more commanding than his usual flare. ] Didn't I just tell you to knock it off?

    [ Why does he feel so angry, so goddamned annoyed by this? Maybe because it's useless; the more he tries to stop the fights, the more people seem to get worked up into punching others. There's yelling, slurs being spat, noses bloodied and eyes blackened - it's chaos out here and people show no signs of stopping.

    Well, two can play at that game.

    Steve whips a fist out, slamming one of the aggressors involved to the ground. The man goes down with a resounding thunk, groaning in pain. A fractured rib, maybe. A bruised spine. Steve turns back to the agitated crowd, daring them - daring them! - to pull another stunt like this guy.

    His chest feels tight with adrenaline. He hates that he feels strengthened by it. ]


    Who's next? I can do this all day.


    ❚❚❚❚❚ ii. OLYMPIA | SIMWE'S PALACE

    [ Somehow, by the end of the week, Steve manages to make it out with his limbs still intact. Somehow, he manages not to put too many others in the Sanctuary on his account, either because he'd hit them too hard or simply taken his anger out on them. It's all completely unlike him, and when he manages to calm down, just for a little bit, he decides to seek out answers.

    Before he can, however, he gets a call to the Empress's palace. There are fires to put out, and there are rumours of looting, nothing more than the burgeoning insanity that's plagued the city for far longer than its welcome. Never one to completely abandon his post, and feeling both fearful and guilty of his own part in this so far, he and others in his faction head there to intervene and contain the chaos.

    He can be found at various points of the castle, either physically stopping someone from stealing one of the royal artifacts, or calling out for someone to help him put out a fire before it spreads too quickly, catching onto curtains and feeding on the furniture. ]


    Hey, a little help here?

    [ Steve won't be found pilfering anything for himself, of course; he's far too honourable for that - but if he does catch you taking something, prepare for a good and stern talking-to. Or punching-to. Your choice. ]


    ❚❚❚❚❚ iii. WYVER | MONSTER BLOOD

    [ A few days later, when Olympia's unrest ceases to end, Steve takes on a lead he'd been following, which pulls him out of Olympia to be smuggled (more or less) into Wyver. Out of his Olympian Royal Guard's uniform, it's a little easier to be in cognito, but the questioning eyes and the outright stares never become easier to take. He can handle himself though; he always had. He keeps to himself, keeps his shield covered, and avoid as many questions as possible.

    His arrival into the neighbouring city eventually pulls him straight into the thick of the fight - again, and given who he is and what he's done for nearly all of his life, it's a position he'd prefer to be in than not. He's ready this time, and he has his aggression under better control. (He feels more like himself.)

    Shield strapped to his back in full view now, he watches for clues that'll lead him to answers about what straw exactly snapped to break the camel's back; and more than that, he keeps an eye out on those he's come to call his friends but who have decided to call Wyver their ... more permanent home. If he has to throw in the odd punch and a tussle with someone who can't keep their hands to themselves, well, Steve's there.

    It's when blood is drawn - and not the kind you'd think - that Steve hesitates. But the natives here are insistent, so insistent, even, that the blood of some strange El Nysa monster is shoved into his hands and he's forced to drink it on threat of death - and better yet, the death of a refugee, likely someone from an Earth just like his. Steve simply can't stand for that, and knowing what he does about the superserum coursing through his veins, he's sure he'll be able to take it. If anything, his body will metabolize it quick enough to avoid any adverse effects.

    It turns out ... maybe that's not entirely true. ]



    ❚❚❚❚❚ iv. WYVER | NAMARAK SUMMIT REVISITED

    [ Thankfully the monster's blood he'd ingested does metabolize a little quicker than your average non-super-soldier, and by the time Steve gets his wits about him once more, he finds himself following a path he'd gone on a while back, when things still seemed relatively peaceful between the Olympia and Wyver nations.

    Hell, this place had come to mean a lot for him because it was here, at this altar, that he and Peggy Carter promised to be partners in just about every way imaginable. They'd lent each other their strengths, and they made promises to honour and protect each other. It seems strange now, tragic even, to find this place in the same amount of chaos as everywhere else.

    Even the spiritual were not immune.

    What he'd recently learned from Peggy doesn't escape his mind; if anything, he grows more and more attune to the strange happenings here, picking up on bits of conversation about tests and experiments, and seeking new subjects. He's stumbled on something here and if he doesn't find Peggy wandering these halls, he'll try - at the very least - to get some information back to her. He knows he'd told her he wouldn't get involved ... but if you happen to stumble straight into something, you can't just leave it there, can you?

    He can handle himself.

    And the shaman that spots him seems keen to test that theory out, too.

    He could use some backup right about now. ]



    ❚❚❚❚❚ v. WILDCARD

    [ ooc: if none of these prompts are doing it for you, feel free to hit me up via PM, plurk ([plurk.com profile] thwip), or discord (spidey#2716) for plotting / or just leave a starter down below and we can do a thing. ]
    revlon: (283)

    [personal profile] revlon 2018-02-22 06:46 am (UTC)(link)
    [ She'd been waiting for the kettle to boil and dozing off where she stands at the counter when Claire knocks. And it's loud and aggressive enough to startle her awake and draw her weapon before the voice registers. Her heart is still hammering in her throat when she lowers her gun and yells back: ]

    Bloody hell, Claire, don't do that!

    [ But she's already walking to open the door, ushering in the other woman quickly before locking it tight. The curtains are drawn to keep outside eyes from peering in. Yes, next door was ransacked. But she's scared off whoever came to their home. She exhales, setting her pistol on the dining table, and gestures to a seat. ]

    You look exhausted. [ Pot, kettle. Peggy herself isn't too badly hurt, but the day is young. The worst of it, visibly, are her knuckles from brawling and a handsome bruise blooming across her cheekbone. ] Tea? Or is that too much like pretending everything is fine and normal?
    sparsity: (236.)

    goblet of fiyah

    [personal profile] sparsity 2018-02-22 06:49 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Once he's realized what's really going on around the pyres, it's hard to just sit around. Mikazuki has made Wyver into — not a home, but a place that was as good as any he's ever had. The chaos that erupts is just a little too much like the war he accepted back home without ever really wanting, reminding him of his place in all this.

    Not that he's doing a great job of remembering it when all the shrieking rises up over the sounds of flames and zealots. Talking it out with the people of Wyver is never really an option, which is just as well, because Mikazuki will always choose the simpler option that he doesn't hate.

    It comes in the form of an aggressive bolt up to the nearest man that has Slaine by the arm. Mikazuki ducks, throwing his elbow into his gut, then uses the momentum of him doubling over to drive his palm up into his chin. There's a harsh grating sound, a crack, and then he topples down to hit pavement. Reaching out, he secures the other boy in his grip instead, tugging him loose of the remaining people. Beneath his breath, his tongue clicks against his teeth. An actual tsk.
    ]

    Noisy...

    [ As usual. ]
    milesedgelord: (pic#12069310)

    Home

    [personal profile] milesedgelord 2018-02-22 06:52 am (UTC)(link)
    [It had been two days since the chaos in the city had begun. Being a regular lawyer, with very little fighting ability, he had felt it was best to lay low for a little bit until the chaos died down, initially. Thankfully they were stocked with enough supplies at home to make it through a few days, without too much worry. He had taken initial precautions, such as moving the huge life-sized statue of lady justice and some of their larger furniture and mattresses to bar the doorway and the windows.

    He settled down on the floor where he had made a small nest of blankets, with a warm cup of tea in hand. He tried his best to ignore the clamor that was going on outside.]


    The fighting is getting closer. We need a contingency plan, in case things go south Phoenix.
    diplomatie: (o15)

    ii!!!

    [personal profile] diplomatie 2018-02-22 06:53 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Alphinaud himself is fine, luckily, though he's found his way to this area on his visit to Olympia while surveying the state of things and of course looking for those he can help out. And there's a plethora of people like that around here, considering the current state of The Sanctuary.

    He's ready to begin using his own healing spell to help some of them out when she points to him. Well, good timing, at least. ]


    Pray allow me to assist you more closely. They can be healed twice as quickly if I provide mine own abilities.

    [ And he takes out his grimoire, quickly summoning his Obsidian Carbuncle. ]

    Carbuncle shall find those in most dire need so that we may turn our attention solely toward helping them.

    [ He's not aware of how she can help, exactly, but he's not about to discount her abilities before he's seen anything. And the more help, the better, regardless. ]
    nineteenfortyfive: (PORTAL)

    i

    [personal profile] nineteenfortyfive 2018-02-22 06:56 am (UTC)(link)
    [Claire's no stranger to violence. This isn't an all out war, it's a fucking mess, but she uses the chaos to slip around relatively unnoticed. She's got a scarf wrapped around her hair and lower face (because what the hell is that unnatural looking mist?) when she comes across a particularly loud commotion, and being Claire, she can't resist looking instead of hurrying on her way.

    Steve is about the last person she expects to see, the shield recognizable, but the rest of him not so much.

    For a moment, she can only gawk. The slack jaw is hidden from view until she pulls down her scarf to speak.]


    Steve? What the hell?

    [He's ignored for the moment as she hurries to check on the man on the ground.]
    nineteenfortyfive: (PICKPOCKET)

    i

    [personal profile] nineteenfortyfive 2018-02-22 07:05 am (UTC)(link)
    [When you're constantly looking over your shoulder, you might miss someone distractedly looking over hers after a nearly unpleasant encounter. Claire's a little ruffled, clearly uncomfortable, hurried, and very much not looking where she's going until she runs right into another body.]

    Sorry. I--[she's about to apologize more, hoping she's not about to get into a brawl, but her face goes absolutely blank.

    Please hold. Claire Fraser will be with you in just one moment.]
    punshots: (✘ clarendon.)

    prompto argentum / final fantasy xv / wyver

    [personal profile] punshots 2018-02-22 07:08 am (UTC)(link)
    I. FOR (VAIN)GLORY.
    [ Even if he is not fighting in this tournament, the spirit of friendly competition is something that Prompto can always get behind. Better everyone gets out their aggression this way than in some way more destructive, you know? Of course, this friendly competition is too good to last, and the fervor for blood among the natives becomes a liiiiittle too intense for his liking. In any case, around the tournament, he can be found doing two things:

    A. Helping out participants. [ Ever an exuberant supporter, Prompto spends plenty of time down with the fighters between matches, whether he's familiar with them or not. Everyone needs a smile and a bottle of water to get them back on their feet sometimes, and he is, of course, happy to provide.

    Or maybe your character has sustained a minor injury. That's fine! Prompto can help with that, too, even if he pipes up as he sorts through the med kit, holding up a roll of gauze that unravels out onto the ground: ]


    Hey, uh. I totally know how to use this, but I just wanna make sure that, uh, you do, too. So...go ahead! Spill!

    B. Brawls in the stands. [ When he's not down rallying the competitors, Prompto can be found in the stands, enjoying the battles from a distance. He's more of an ensemble fighter himself, so he's plenty happy to be occupying a seat above rather than duking it out, even if...things get progressively more chaotic as the tournament goes on, even among the spectators. It's not long before Prompto accidentally bumps into the wrong person, and then that person bumps into another wrong person, and before he knows it, a convoluted string of hey-are-you-talkin-to-me's break out around him, the entire section of seats erupting into a fight cloud almost simultaneously.

    Of course, he's seen this happen plenty of times in cartoons, so ducking low beneath the swinging arms, Prompto reaches out for the nearest non-aggressor he can see and tugs them by the wrist. ]


    C'mon! This way!

    [ Hopefully they can sneak out of this unnoticed... ]

    II. PAINT THE TOWN RED.
    [ From there, matters only get worse. Much worse.

    Though Prompto managed to avoid any obligation to actually drink any blood - and thank the Six for that, because gross, gross - his luck only holds out for so long and a bucket of Olympian blood is forced into his hands. They...can't really mean that, can they? This can't really be some Olympian's blood in here. It's just...animal blood, probably, the Wyverns too caught up in their, uh, reveling to admit it for what it is. But as he stares into the bucket, his stomach churning at the coppery smell, he can't help but wonder whose lives might be in this bucket. Who might have been cut and dried out for the simple purpose of making a mockery of their city.

    It's such a horrid thought that Prompto can only stand and stare at the bucket, pale-faced, for a few long moments, before the natives start snarling at him to do something with it. He's soft, they ridicule, soft enough to be an Olympian!

    Which is enough, at least, to startle him out of his reverie, but it's too late. Though the natives do not drag him away for his own blood-letting, his sympathetic nature clearly does not sit well with them. May as well let him bathe in the blood of those Olympians he loves so much, and before he can take even a few steps away, the bucket is ripped out of his hands, its contents hurled unceremoniously over him, drenching him in the sticky, thick liquid as the Wyverns laugh like it's the best joke they've ever seen.

    And he's...angry. Furious, even, an emotion that doesn't often visit him, but even in this state he can recognize the futility of trying to fight back here. He may be furious, but he's also humiliated, ashamed, regretful, violently upset - and without another word, he turns away from the group to dash away.

    That is - assuming they'll let him leave. He might need a hand - or perhaps just a friendly face to keep him from breaking down in the aftermath. ]

    III. THROUGH THE FIRE AND THE FLAMES.
    [ Perhaps it was his previous display with the Olympian blood, or perhaps it's the all the risks he's been taking to help the deserters outside Wyver finally catching up with him. In any case, the natives have deemed Prompto too sympathetic, once again - or, perhaps, just not passionate enough about Wyver.

    Whatever the reason, it's enough to have three natives bodily dragging him towards the nearest bonfire, calling his blood to serve a higher purpose. He doesn't go quietly, of course, but he's not strong enough to overpower all three of them. ]


    H-hey - lemme go, lemme go - watch the hair, man!

    [ He still has his priorities in order. Kicking and writhing slows their progress, but Prompto can't escape on his own. Lend him a hand, perhaps? ]

    IV. MAZE RUNNER.
    [ With how things have been going for him this week, it's all but inevitable that Prompto winds up in the labyrinthine halls of the Altar of Volkkra. What an unfortunate coupling, to be so completely done with all of this and then to be thrown into this place, like a mouse in a maze. It's all too cruelly familiar, waking up in a strange, unfamiliar place that someone else deemed it necessary to drag him to, and then left to his own devices to find his way out. What horrors will he find in these halls? The sounds are certainly unsettling enough, and it's so damned dark...

    Can't stop now.

    Prompto keeps moving, summoning a handgun into his grip in a flash of white-purple light. It's enough to reveal the path ahead for a moment, and in that moment, movement flickers across his field of vision.

    Heart leaping into his throat, he calls out: ]


    H-hello? Who's there? [ A beat, as he advances. ] One of the good guys, here! ...Which I know sounds just like what one of the bad guys would say to get you to trust them, but - you gotta believe me!

    [ Hopefully it's a captive willing to cooperate to get out of here instead of one of the shamans - or worse. ]

    V. WILDCARD.
    [ Got another scenario in mind? Go for it or feel free to hit me up at [plurk.com profile] retroscape if you want to plot something out! ]
    triplerose: (fj72)

    Loras Tyrell | Game of Thrones | Wyver

    [personal profile] triplerose 2018-02-22 07:08 am (UTC)(link)
    [i. FOR GLORY]

    [ If there is a tournament to be had, Loras is there. The festivities make it seem like the tourneys of home, and his time fighting in the rings over the last few months fills him with confidence.

    He feels more like himself than he ever has.

    But by the time Loras is done with his first fight, things have escalated. Hs own fight had been more brutal than expected, and he can feel blood makinig his clothes to his skin, but now he hears the crowd calling for more than simply a cut or a slash. He slumps near a tent, not far, should he be called again, but he's already wondering if he can land that final blow - even if it's kill or be killed.
    ]


    [2. HEARTY DIETS - Painting Edition]

    [ At least Loras has a stomach for things a little senseless and gruesome, he thinks, as he watches people around him drink a variety of bloods. He does his best not to inquire what exactly it comes from, but he's heard everything from dragons to humans, and it's a practice he's doing well avoiding.

    He can't avoid blood forever, though. As a man trying to make himself out to be an upstanding citizen of Wyver, when he's handed a simple amulet and a small cup of blood, he doesn't even think to say no. The instruction is simple enough: decorate the amulet, keep it to help imbue strength. There are no brushes, it seems, and, remiss as he is, Loras dips his finger into the thick red liquid to paint a rose on the charm.
    ]


    [iii. WILDCARD]

    Choose your own adventure or hit me up at [plurk.com profile] fritzwinky.
    Edited 2018-02-22 07:09 (UTC)
    eusford: (pic#10996209)

    crowley eusford | owari no seraph

    [personal profile] eusford 2018-02-22 07:12 am (UTC)(link)
    i. chaos erupts
    [ Apathetic, he doesn't so much as blink when he ventures out into the streets and observes the damage. There's no real reason for him to step in when it's an act of rage by the very people who built this city themselves—however his eyes fixate on a group of Olympians that were mercilessly attacking their own. Faces contorted in anger with smiles splitting their faces into two separate expressions; it is without a doubt that they don't feel an ounce of sympathy for the individual whose blood now paints the ground. The raw contact of skin cracking against skin with each punch hitting his ears as if it were happening to him.

    It's sick.

    It's inhumane—but all too human at the same time.

    A small fragment of a memory long ago surfaces in the back of his head, one that he initially pushes back but is succumbed by what was once a young man who devoted himself to protecting the weak. And minutes later he's disrupted the group from their violent act, revealing that their target was a young woman whose face reminded him of someone else. Though now isn't time to laugh at the irony of it all.

    He's already picking the woman into his arms by the time he catches the figure of someone in the corner of his eye. ]
    If you're gonna try anything cheap, I won't go easy on you like I did the rest of them. [ And that's very much a threat. ]

    ii. critical condition

    Of course.

    [ Whether you partnered with Crowley this far, accompanying him after he's taken up the responsibility of the woman he had encountered earlier or somewhere in between, or not, you're both standing before the woman quivering with a bow in her hands. Based off of his expression he seems mildly annoyed by the situation at best, but in truth he's pissed—if he were human his blood would be boiling in response.

    He clicks his tongue, the woman he's carrying on his back breaths becoming more shallow as the seconds pass. ]


    I could just kill her and we can take whatever we need, but that would be "bad", right?

    [ He's a split second from snapping her neck, in all honesty, try to convince him not to.

    Or not. ]

    iii. wildcard

    ( want to do something else? feel free to write something up or hit me up at [plurk.com profile] vongaribaldi if you'd like to plot out anything specific! )
    originallutece: there's something in that tear (shock; what's this what's this)

    II, obviously

    [personal profile] originallutece 2018-02-22 07:24 am (UTC)(link)
    [Fuck this universe.

    That's more or less what Rosalind has been thinking over the past few weeks, though the words she uses are considerably more high-class. But fuck Wyver, fuck Olympia, and fuck the Natha, because she'd been so happy before being brought here, and it seems enormously unfair that she has to go through any of this. Mobs, mobs and vitriol and the hideousness of a group of people intent on their own twisted values; she'd died before this had happened in her world, why should she have to go through it now?

    Olympia burns, and though Rosalind hasn't heard anything, she assumes Wyver is just as bad. And she has more than enough people there that she cares about; she can't stand waiting around to see if they're still alive. She teleports her way over to Wyver, slipping past the guards in her usual fashion, hoping only to stay for an evening or two and check in.

    Instead: here she is a week later, keeping at the shadows, trying not to catch the eye of anyone who might recognize her. There's bruises and burn marks on her arms, though she's wearing long sleeves, eager to hide them. And she's on edge, teleporting whenever she can get away with it, sticking to shadows when she can't. She's smoking in an alley, trying to soothe her nerves, as somewhere nearby, a group of men laughs. It's a sound hideous enough to make a shiver run down her spine, but she ignores it. They're not laughing at her, so why bother going to see and court trouble? No. No, she'll stay right where she is, thank you.

    Except it seems the universe doesn't want her to live in peace. Because suddenly there's a noise and motion and impact, and she's knocked over in an instant, sprawling down in the alley.

    And there's something hideous standing before her.

    A person, she realizes after a moment, blinking in shock as she stares up at him. A person covered in blood, absolutely dripping in it, and she doesn't know if he's injured or worse, but if those who did it to him are nearby, she doesn't want to stick around to see what they might do to her. Quick as a flash Rosalind leaps to her feet, ready to run, but--]


    Prompto?
    cassus: (What a wicked game you play.)

    The Streets

    [personal profile] cassus 2018-02-22 07:39 am (UTC)(link)
    [ The closest Dazai has ever come to being a hero is portraying one in a theatrical production. Those kind of titles, describing selfless and deserving souls, are better suited for Atsushi and his ilk at the Agency. Well, anyone still left alive from it, resting unconscious in their hibernation pods.

    While he too was a member of that courageous group of scrappy good-doers, that hasn't earned him the right to think himself like them. He's not brave, compassionate or kindhearted the way they are. His first instinct is never to throw himself into the fray, simply for someone else's sake. He's more suited for the dirty work, the best of which is done while pulling strings and calculating from the shadows.

    And that's where he's lurking tonight, watching a shining example of everything he's not, as she dashes into the ever-growing madness to play nursemaid. It's commendable, and worth taking note of even more when her healing ability comes into play.

    She's a healer. That gets his attention enough that he purposefully steps forward, slipping out from the shadows and letting Mipha see him. The request for assistance which comes shortly after is practically on-cue with his expectations. Of course, it doesn't take a detective to anticipate someone will call for help when unconscious men are littering the floor.

    He's no hero. That said, being helpful in order to instigate building allegiances is simply a wise strategic move. One useful whenever someone might be at death's door and need to have such a convenient ally. ]


    Why, of course. If a beautiful lady needs help, then I'll happily be at her beck and call~.

    [ Hands slip from where they always loiter, buried within the pockets of his long beige trench coat. The action reveals bandages running all the way down past both wrists, but he hardly seems hurt. In fact, Dazai gives the impression of being unusually keen and focused, despite the chaos being unleashed around them, as though he's used to such horrors.

    As he kneels beside the fallen man, moving to slip his arms beneath the man's armpits from behind, he awaits further instructions. ]


    Shall I take hold of his arms?

    [ Judging by how Mipha deflected that last attack, she's obviously more than capable of handling herself. But it can't hurt to at least play the role of gentleman and take a potential punch or two, if the man decides to wake up swinging. ]
    diplomatie: (2483720-8)

    iv!!

    [personal profile] diplomatie 2018-02-22 07:41 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Don't worry, Prompto, he believes you. Too bad Alphinaud wasn't that movement he saw. In front of Prompto, in the hallway they're currently in, is one of those experiment-loving shamans. Alphinaud, however, is behind Prompto, and upon seeing that light, he notices the shaman ahead of them. And of course, Prompto (though his voice does a good enough job of giving him away).

    He's quick to act, without even calling out, for fear that it would alert the shaman and give him time to defend himself or retaliate. Quickly, Alphinaud casts a Shadow Flare, and in an instant, an area of black and blue surrounds the shaman, causing him damage (though not enough to kill him, of course) and slowing his movements considerably. This is the best course of action, he believes, as it'll give them a little time to escape down another hallway.

    Still acting hastily, Alphinaud runs up to Prompto from behind to grab his arm, dimly lit from the light of his lingering spell in the distance. ]


    With me!

    [ ... Hopefully Prompto isn't so startled that he feels the need to shoot his future brother-in-law. ]
    cassus: 🚫Do Not Take (pic#)

    ii. critical condition

    [personal profile] cassus 2018-02-22 08:02 am (UTC)(link)
    [ It's a strange state of affairs, but their rag-tag band of three find themselves at something of a crossroads. Essentially the lives of two people hang in the balance, considering the very real possibility that Crowley may sacrifice one woman for another.

    There's a sense of irony here that someone with stronger morals would feel down to their bones. But for Dazai that instinct is less tangible than it is perceived. He should feel outrage and fear and a sense of protectiveness for both lives at stake. But his mind can only know what should be the morally correct answer. ]


    Oh, absolutely! And it's not often that you can simply get away with murder.

    [ He rocks on his heels, thinking. ]

    Things could get messy if someone else leads it back to you.

    [ Dazai acts like he's whittling off useless little facts, but he's actually surveying the barricade blocking off access to The Sanctuary. His physical abilities are meager and resigned to that of a moral man's, but the way Crowley carries himself makes Dazai wonder if the man might be capable of so much more. ]

    But if you simply disarm her, that's a different story. [ An addendum ] Not literally, of course. That too would be bad.

    [ Amused by his own sense of humor he continues on, pressing for an answer to a question Crowley may or may not be willing to hand over. ]

    I can distract her. [ Dazai withdraws a gun from his coat. ] If you can make it over the wall with the injured girl.
    smithandwesson: (Bloody Monk)

    Genjo Sanzo | Saiyuki | Wyver

    [personal profile] smithandwesson 2018-02-22 08:09 am (UTC)(link)
    I. For Glory

    [Funny. Sanzo was never really one to sign himself up for such ridiculous displays of strength before he had come to El Nysa. He usually saw such competitions as a pointless cock-fight for self-conscious assholes to give themselves something to brag over.

    But this was his second tournament since he had arrived on the planet. And these days he couldn't help but find himself thriving for it more than he ever had back home. Was it because he was growing antsy? He certainly wasn't used to living life so compliantly. Or perhaps he had simply grown addicted to the risk. After all, when was there a moment he hadn't been putting his life on the line?

    None the less, before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of the tournament grounds. Crowds were cheering for blood on all sides and, surprisingly, he couldn't help but find himself enjoying the thrill.

    Looking up his eyes met his opponent, his expression neutral and seemingly carefree despite being one of the first fights of the day.
    ]

    Just want to say. Sorry in advance.

    [The battle was about to begin after all, and the best thing about this was that there were no limitations. Of course that meant that he was far more likely to lose his own life in all this. But that had never bothered him before.]

    II. Hearty Diets

    [Where many of those new to Wyver would have shirked at the concept of drinking the fresh blood of a dragon, Sanzo was all in. After all, it wasn't his first time doing it. Thanks to a previous escapade involving sneaking into his own job while off duty and a sassy talking raccoon, Sanzo had familiarized himself fairly well with both the flavor and the effects it imbued.

    So it was with the admiration of those around him that he chugged the hot heavy liquid down. Exhaling heavily and bracing himself for the sharp burn as he ignored the enamored jeers of those around him.
    ]

    This is nothing...

    [He muttered under his breath before making his way to the sales table which seemed to be peddling the fluids of dead beasts as if they were sweet delicacies. His attention piqued as he approached a particularly hesitant looking peruser.]

    Having second thoughts?

    III. Beastly Exhibits

    [As much as Sanzo enjoyed Wyvers more simple and genuine way of going about things, and as much as he enjoyed the sense of familiarity his current job gave him, he didn't quite agree with all the countries habits. Kidnapping innocent people for nefarious purposes, for example, was pretty high on his 'no' list.

    And yet that was exactly what his place of work was doing. In fact they seemed to be celebrating their actions as they dragged blindfolded people in by the dozens.

    Sanzo did his best to fake disinterest as he saw it happen. But in the end, despite his usual aloof and often times cold-hearted actions, he still had a conscious when it came to helping those who were forced into situations they didn't deserve.

    And so, on occasion, he would sneak into the labyrinth that was the temple. Donned in traditional shaman robes he would wander the halls, looking much like many of the other armed pursuers who would chase after those who were being offered for research. But instead of attacking those who were lost and confused, he would approach them with an ulterior motive.

    Sneaking up upon the unsuspecting and lost wanderer, he would reach around them, knife in one hand and gun in the other (one of the joys of being ambidextrous really). Placing the blade to their neck and gun to their back before whispering out harshly.
    ]

    Don't move. Don't struggle. Just take a deep breath, calm down, and do exactly what I say. And I may just be able to get your unlucky ass out of here.

    IV. Wildcard!

    ((Have an alternate situation you wish to throw Sanzo into with your character? Feel free to leave a starter here! If you have any questions or ideas feel free to contact me on Plurk at [plurk.com profile] chohakkaifan -or- ChoHakkaiFan#5971 on Discord!))
    reek: (pic#10846636)

    Theon Greyjoy | A Song of Ice and Fire/GoT | Olympia

    [personal profile] reek 2018-02-22 08:10 am (UTC)(link)
    1. Chaos Erupts

    [ Early into things, Theon seems to be handling himself quite well. Quite well for Theon, at least, which means he isn’t handling it well at all. He’s seen this sort of thing coming for some time, especially with the shift in attitude toward newcomers to the city, but it’s only helped to spark his his paranoia.

    If you pass him on the street or even look at him wrong, he’s likely to stare back just a little too long, just a little too suspicious about anyone he comes by. And if you happen to bump against him, you may find that the dagger he keeps tucked into his belt just happens to wind up in his hand.
    ]

    Stay back.


    2. Shine on, You Crazy Diamond

    [ Finally, nearly a week in as he’s hurrying home from some errand, it clicks. There’s something eerily familiar about all of this. A city engulfed in flames, too much bloodshed and too much chaos. Olympia looks very much like Winterfell this way, and it’s all Theon can do to stare, frozen in the middle of a path, as his mind struggles to separate the two scenarios.

    It takes him no more than a handful of seconds for his panic to paint an illusion for himself that’s so realistic that he believes he’s back home, reliving his last moments before the Storm hit. He even hears a familiar voice give the order somewhere in the distance: Burn it, burn it all. That voice is only in his mind, but he still wheels around in a blind attempt to find it, looking alarmed.

    Of course, he bumps into someone in the process. Might be you, might be someone with a worse attitude. Either way, despite the dagger on his belt, he’s not in a place to deal with it.
    ]

    3. Wildcard

    [ I’m game for whatever. Grab me at [plurk.com profile] muttonchops to let me know what you want to do, or just do what you will. ]
    nostalgiabomb: (☆004)

    peter quill | mcu | wyver

    [personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2018-02-22 08:16 am (UTC)(link)
    i. hearty diets
    [ Listen, Peter's a strong proponent of live and let live, you know? It comes part and parcel with being a former space cowboy, of experience a billion different cultures all in one sitting. Like, sure, maybe he doesn't necessarily agree with everything that goes on – especially with the seriously demented turn of some of Wyver's most recent festivities – and he's not beyond a snide remark or two, but beyond that, he's happy to just let things go.

    Except this, apparently, and as he watches someone guzzle down a goblet of pure blood, their chin and shirtfront drenched crimson, Peter visibly grimaces. ]


    That's disgusting.

    ii. fanning the flames
    [ ... didn't they just do this?

    Peter's reasonably sure he just had to sweettalk – or occasionally punch – his way out of getting his belongings and himself chucked into the pyres. But if he thought that party got out of hand, this one is cranking it up to eleven, turning up the bass, and piping it through about a billion speakers.

    So, like, not good.

    Peter's also reasonably sure that he had been handing out the advice that everyone should keep their heads down and keep their noses out of everyone else's business. These folks were going batshit insane with jingoism, and fervor like that wasn't easy to deal with. But apparently Peter is a hypocrite, because the instant he sees someone in trouble, struggling against whatever angry mob is dragging them to the pyres, he rushes forward. ]


    Hey. Hey! Let 'em go!

    iii. beastly exhibits a;
    [ Apparently, Peter pissed off the wrong people with his bouts of derring-do, because in the middle of the week, while he's hurrying back to his shared apartment, some total pricks jump him in the street. Usually Peter's pretty good about holding his own, and usually he can take care of himself, but there's not much he can do when it's three to his little ol' one.

    If Peter had a nickle for every time someone tried to kidnap him, he'd be filthy, stinking rich.

    Still, he's putting up an okay fight. He manages to knock out one guy, but a second guy traps his arms behind his back. And a third guy is fast approaching to throw a bag over Peter's head.

    Little help, please? ]

    iv. beastly exhibits b;
    [ Either because he got chucked in here with all the other unlucky saps, or because he has a seriously awful habit of snooping, Peter finds himself in the labrythine corridors of the Altar. Whatever the fuck is going on here, Peter has it in his head that he's going to figure it out. Or, at the very least, that he's going to get the hell out of here with anyone else he can find.

    He really wishes he had his little plasma orb, just for the added benefit of another possible weapon at his disposal, but for now, he's creeping quietly through the halls with his mask deployed.

    Which means that out of the dark comes two glowing red eyes.

    Take that as you will, fellow victims of the maze. ]

    v. wildcard;
    ( leave anything you like! pp me at [plurk.com profile] lampshading if you want to work something out! )
    beknight: ([ jl ] 80.)

    ii.

    [personal profile] beknight 2018-02-22 08:18 am (UTC)(link)
    [ There are fires to put out. But there's always more reasons to hang around — opportunity. The palace is open to interlopers. Bruce has no trouble blending in with the looters if necessary, hiding in plain sight to track what they take, or take them down if he has to. He's making an effort not to enjoy it, he hasn't been able to cut loose in a while. ]

    [ Though naturally, there's someone in those particular primary colours running around. As though Clark and Diana weren't enough trouble. Bruce is only poking through this room, studying the art. Dark grey clothes, belt, the Gray Ghost's protective hood pulled up as he examines one of the amulets with a small focusing lens. Steve in the doorway is met with an amiable, ]

    Just browsing.

    [ He's not making an effort to disguise his voice. ]
    cassus: (Hoping my feelings would drown.)

    I’M BURNIN’ THROUGH THE SKY

    [personal profile] cassus 2018-02-22 08:36 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Oh, now this is a familiar scene. Like a heat-seeking missile, his companion takes out their would-be attacker with the sort of precision a man like Dazai can appreciate. It's quick, brutal and finished without risking a single sound that might expose their location. It's these fact which make him want to compliment the kill, regardless of how praising a murder tends to come off as being 'in poor taste'.

    Still, the gruesome scene is over and done with long before Dazai even meanders within range. Ultimately he's not lifted a finger or managed to get his hands the least bit dirty. It's an arrangement he likes, lending him to think of how he could get used to this sort of 'partnership' again. ]


    How about 'heard'? Because saving our lives deserves at least one round of applause.

    [ Not that he makes any effort to withdraw his hands from where they're comfortably nestled within his coat. That would take effort. And why exert himself when he has a full-fledged otherworldly Amazon playing bodyguard and attack dog? ]

    Although, if you'd prefer a more lasting show of gratitude, I'd be more than happy to oblige.

    [ They're under the threat of being murdered and he's blatantly propositioning her. It's either a testament to Gamora's quality of character, or Dazai's persistent streak of dumb luck, if she doesn't decide to acquaint him with the kind of up close and personal embrace her last casualty was gifted with. ]
    cassus: 🚫Do Not Take (pic#)

    iii. beastly exhibits a;

    [personal profile] cassus 2018-02-22 09:18 am (UTC)(link)
    [ These kinds of goons are all the same on every planet. They charge in with not a brain cell between their ears, relying on brute force to beat everything that moves to a bloody pulp. Ah, it's true what they say, the classics never die.

    Good thing Dazai prefers to do something more than merely fight fire with fire, like good old Buff McHunkStuff. A small log gets rolled out towards the brawl as a would-be raging bull of a man makes a beeline towards Peter. The branch rolls itself directly under the man's next stomping foot, and down he goes, like something out of a cartoon.

    Ouch. Judging by the way he's landing, the big fella isn't going to be on his feet soon. Or conscious, at that. There is still one more ruffian to deal with, and Dazai is happy to play the vigilante for the night, but not without letting Peter sweat it out a little.

    Where's the fun in doing all the work? ]


    You two look cozy. [ His lighthearted smirk matches a teasing tone. ] I'm not interrupting, am I?
    gekkajuu: (pic#11553782)

    Atsushi Nakajima | Bungou Stray Dogs | Olympia

    [personal profile] gekkajuu 2018-02-22 09:59 am (UTC)(link)
    [He'd been expecting a war; he hadn't expected the city to explode all by itself, even with tension rising the way it had been of late. This is almost worse than all-out war, where you at least know who to fight. It's almost impossible to tell who's on the right side.

    But at least it's sometimes obvious who's on the wrong side. Atsushi has tried to leave what he can to the proper authorities for the most part, trying not to do anything as a refugee that could reflect badly on the refugees as a whole, which would only make everything worse. Even so... there are things that the authorities can't or won't do, and Atsushi can't just let everything happen. Fights that seem too one-sided, he'll put a stop to; destruction and looting that's being done, he will do everything to prevent, though he'll be satisfied with simply chasing the culprits away. It's not often that he's used his ability inside of the city, but now he uses it often enough that people are likely to start recognizing him for it.

    While Atsushi is doing what he can, he's not exactly playing the hero full-time. He tries, for better or worse - and probably partly out of denial, truth be told - to keep some semblance of a normal life going. He just stays in the city, tries to make sure everything at the stables is going okay, and he checks on the temples from time to time, but they seem to be holding up.

    The strange mist is noted, but that still doesn't provide Atsushi with answers, let alone solutions. Still, the mist may be one reason why, when the palace itself ends up a target, Atsushi finally abandons reason and caution both, and he heads over there to protect it - fiercely, if need be. The other reason for this strange bout of over-protectiveness is that the Empress is his newly chosen person to admire and serve - after Dazai, who as far as Atsushi knows is sleeping in a pod; after Evras, who turned out to be much less of a good person than Atsushi had thought him to be - so he will do what he can to repay her for the kindness she's shown him and other refugees for taking them in... even if the Natha may actually be responsible for that, and even if Simwe may well be worse of a person than Evras. Atsushi needs someone to look up to and work hard for, though, and Simwe has ended up being that person for him, even if he's never so much as talked to her.

    Maybe he comes there to help put out the fire, originally, but the Guard is already on that, and as Atsushi sees looting happening... he snaps. Maybe it is partly the mist; maybe it's just moral indignation, coupled with the fact that he's been holding back too long. He can't protect the whole palace, so he'll focus on protecting people first - but with people (including the Empress, it seems) already gone, Atsushi soon takes up station at the treasury. As important as everything else is - books as well as personal things - the treasury seems to be a logical target for the most ruthless looters. Besides, with so much of value concentrated in a single spot, it gives Atsushi the opportunity to protect as much as he can in a relatively enclosed space (compared to the entirety of the palace, at least).

    He doesn't even transform back anymore, once he goes Half Tiger: he just stands there, transformed and ready to kick the ass of anyone who dares to touch anything. A couple of people, presumably looters, are already lying crumpled against a wall, bleeding. (He'll heal them when things calm down, if he can.) Who wants to be next?]


    ((OOC: or wildcard me!))
    revlon: (193)

    i )

    [personal profile] revlon 2018-02-22 10:07 am (UTC)(link)
    [ She spots the flash of his shield before she hears him. It's hard not to — in a sea of chaos, whether the battlefield is the streets of Olympia or the bombed-out shell of a European town, Captain America's mighty shield is a beacon of hope and justice as much as the rest of him. Of course he's in his uniform. There's a split-second where she wonders how they're going to pass that off as a strange custom in a faraway El Nysan town, but then she's clipped on the shoulder by a fleeing individual, arms full of loot, and she's snapped out of it. ]

    Hey.

    [ It's sharp, more angry than irritated, and she runs after him. He's headed in the direction she last saw Steve but that's at the back of her mind now: this thief is her priority. Peggy chases him down but she doesn't draw her weapon — instead, she tackles him bodily to the ground, and the bolts of fine silk fabric in his arms go tumbling, unrolling across the pavement, trampled by the booted feet of a roaring crowd.

    She hauls the man up by the collar and finds that she's ended up right by Steve, who looks like he's spoiling for a fight. She might be too. ]


    Captain, [ she greets, only a little breathless. The man in her grip is squirming and twisting to try and get away and she yanks him back sharply and twists his arm behind his back; he swears loudly (you bitch!) and her eyes flash. ] Mind your tongue or the pair of us will haul you back to the Palace cells.

    [ But the crowd is pressing in. This could get a little messy. ]
    revlon: (210)

    2 )

    [personal profile] revlon 2018-02-22 10:56 am (UTC)(link)
    [ Peggy is on her way to the palace under siege — it's burning, people are looting it, but that doesn't concern her nearly as much as the thought of the Empress getting caught up in it. She is not loyal to Simwe, she's never even met the woman, but she doesn't want to see what might happen if the ruler of this empire is killed or captured or how Wyver might handle it.

    But she bumps squarely into Theon Greyjoy and after a week of fighting, she's sore and winces at the collision. A reprimand is on her tongue, temper short with lack of sleep, but then she recognises him. More importantly, she recognises that something is wrong. ]


    Sorry, [ she ventures, frowning. ] You all right?
    Edited 2018-02-22 10:57 (UTC)
    thetaintedsorrow: (Let’s do this)

    Chuuya Nakahara | Bungou Stray Dogs | Olympia

    [personal profile] thetaintedsorrow 2018-02-22 11:43 am (UTC)(link)
    I. Now That’s What I Call Monster Hunting

    [Well, shit has most certainly hit the fan, and Chuuya has to curse his luck that it happens right after he’s moved into the city. It doesn’t help that he’s feeling incredibly irritated for seemingly no reason at all, but he’ll chalk it up to his life being nothing but chaos since he’s arrived. He’s dealt with cities erupting into chaos before, but back then he had a job to do, a clear direction to take things, and now? Well. Now he’s just looking for a purpose.

    He’ll find it by assisting with wrangling tiny dragons, which, to be perfectly honest, is cool as hell. One of the escaped critters seems to have landed on the head of an unsuspecting citizen, and Chuuya calls out in a harsh whisper:
    ]

    Don’t move. I need to capture it.

    II. I Will Bleed For You

    [Of course Chuuya would happen upon an injured person. Of course he’d be the only one willing to help instead of trampling over them or slitting their throat before robbing them blind. Of course he’d have to use his ability to make them float along weightlessly at his side until they get to safety. And of course Chuuya would have to talk down a woman pointing a crossbow at him to get them some treatment.]

    Move. I’ll do it my damn self.

    [That goddamn vulture on steroids is bad news, and they need to get past the barricade now to avoid it. He’s able to convince the employee to let him through, but of course he’s only got basic supplies to patch up this poor, unfortunate soul.]

    Hang in there, alright? You’re gonna be fine.

    III. What’s This? What’s This? There’s Shinies Everywhere!

    [Look. Chuuya isn’t a sleaze, and he wouldn’t purposely wait until all hell broke loose to sneak into the palace, but he just can’t help following the crowds of looters and other lowlifes as they go to raid the place like mindless beasts. It’s not his place to intervene unless lives are at stake (he beat the snot out of several assholes threatening innocent servants, his good deed for the day), and the lure of the palace, a previously forbidden and very tempting jewel, is too much even for him to pass up exploring. Of course, while the majority of looters head to the vaults, Chuuya lingers in the wine cellars, because of course he does.

    Anyone happening upon him would think he’s just stumbled upon a literal gold mine with the way his eyes sparkle.
    ]

    Hey you. Help me grab as many bottles as you can and I’ll make it worth your while.
    Edited 2018-02-22 11:51 (UTC)