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.
otiosity: (Default)

[personal profile] otiosity 2018-02-28 12:25 am (UTC)(link)
Oh Isabela, you know how to make me blush.

[Hawke hopes she isn't actually blushing. Maybe the light would hide it anyway? Isabela had a way about her that made her feel as though she was slightly intoxicated when she said things like that. Even if that thing was drinking straight up blood. Isabela always managed to be attractive in everything she did.

Still when Isabela knocks back the blood, Hawke gags a little and steps back just incase it all comes back up. But instead, Isabela almost seems to have a glow about her after she finishes the drink.]


Probably ought to stick to just one or else you might start to like it too much.

Cheers.

[Hawke tries to do it all in one go and ends up choking and coughing a bit. For a second, she thinks she might actually vomit. Then the horrible twisting nausea is replaced by a warm, light feeling that fills her.]

...So.

We did it. Now let's see how impressed they look. [Hawke turns to the crowd.] Come on let me see your best impressed look!
willrevile: (0560 ( :> ))

[personal profile] willrevile 2018-02-28 12:26 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jim nods when she explains, and it's obvious just from the comprehension on his face that he understands what she's talking about - or, at least, he doesn't find it so unusual for someone to specialize in those things. (He'll be shocked to hear she's from 1910, but only at first. Like a card deck being shuffled; reality is so surprisingly malleable.)

He does a count in his head, of the parallel universes to his own that he knows of for certain, and thinks of mention it, but - probably pointless. ]


Some time for a visit, [ he mutters, then tips his head, smiling. He sits down after she does. ] I do, in fact.

[ A world of wonders lies under this sci fi motorcycle jacket, ok. ] What's 'atomic suspension', to you?
phykios: kidding not kidding (♆ GUESS I'LL DIE.)

[personal profile] phykios 2018-02-28 12:27 am (UTC)(link)
[ salt water is best. brine from the open sea revitalizes him, energizes him, heals his wounds, and a lot more. he's never more alert or powerful than when he's at the ocean. fresh water is good, too; lakes and rivers work well with his powers, obey his commands.

water like that pouring out of this fountain is okay, and a lot better than nothing. energy surges through his limbs when he lands in the water basin, blunts the pain in his shoulder -- which is good, because it means he doesn't pass out or throw up or anything else he, frankly, can't afford in the middle of a fight like this. he dropped his sword when he fell, but he doesn't bother picking it up as he pulls himself upright.

here's what he does by way of answer: he concentrates on the water flowing through the pipes in the fountain, just beneath their feet. he stops the water in one of the pipes, so it suddenly sputters out, lets the pressure build up inside.

water likes to be free.

when the pressure builds up to a breaking point, he lets it free, exploding out of one of the fonts. (just that much -- he's not trying to blow up the fountain, not in a fight against mortals.) percy controls the water as it bursts out, forces it into the shape of a fist -- that comes down hard on the pavement in between peggy and the guys.

the thing is, they're in pretty bad shape, because peggy did a number on them. even with the effects of the mist, a lot of them are starting to reconsider this fight (or are just clocked out). percy'd seen this when he stood, and that's where he gets the idea for this.

he says, tight, ]
Because I'm nice, I'll give you a count of three. [ and then he gestures at peggy with his good hand, and grins fiercely. ] But I can't make any promises for her.

[ as it turns out, that's pretty effective at breaking up the fight; the rest of the guys disperse, discontent but pretty fast. percy waits till the last of them are gone to sink down to the lip of the fountain, sitting.

(he's totally dry, of course, except for a wetness at his shoulder that tells him the wound is bleeding again. ugh, that sucks.)

still, when he looks up at peggy, he has another grin for her. ]


Good thing you're so intimidating. I think they're gonna have nightmares about you.
Edited 2018-02-28 01:27 (UTC)
originallutece: (talk; i feel numb most of the time)

[personal profile] originallutece 2018-02-28 12:32 am (UTC)(link)
Suspending atoms.

[Oh my god that's almost a joke. Rosalind glances over at the bar, but she won't let either of them drink until he works on her arm, because the last thing they need is to be tipsy during that.

Which means she really ought to make a decision on whether or not she'll let him touch her. Her fingers curl, and she pauses for a few seconds. Hesitates visibly, then sets her injured arm on the table, palm upwards.]


I've enough medical knowledge to know what it is you ought to be doing. If you try anything foolish, it won't end well for you.

[The bandages are a cross between browned, older blood and something fresher-- and when he opens it up, he'll see a neat gash spanning wrist to forearm. It had to have been made with a blade, it's far too precise. There's blisters and burn marks surrounding it, as well as a few haphazard stitches (because it's very, very hard to stitch yourself up with your left hand). And as he works:]

Now then. Atomic suspension is just what it sounds: encasing an atom within light to prevent gravity's effects from taking hold. A simple enough process in theory, but one which took me the better part of my undergraduate career to affect. But once I had, it was a simple matter to expand it.

So. An atom suspended became an apple, which, after a fair few years, became a city.

My colleagues were eager to try and call my Lutece Field something foolish like quantum levitation, but that was both childish and entirely incorrect. Atomic suspension isn't a magician's trick, it isn't about making things fly. It's simply about things failing to fall.
originallutece: and STILL able to argue better than you (talk; look at me with my shirt half off)

[personal profile] originallutece 2018-02-28 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
[She wonders if Ardyn knows what Prompto is, exactly. Something that was made in a lab, not born. She also knows that she won't ever tell him, not unless he brings it up first. That had been a secret of enormous magnitude that Prompto had been terrified to tell her; she won't blab about it, especially not to Ardyn.]

He suggested it.

[She meets his gaze.]

He told me he would never forgive you for what you did to his world, his friends, but that his lack of forgiveness didn't mean you couldn't try to do better for yourself here. That he couldn't try and understand you.

[She might well tell him that it's a hell of an effort, though. Rosalind is still puzzling it out, and she thinks Ardyn is more inclined towards telling her than Prompto.

She curls her fingers, her nails digging into her palm as he cleans off her wound, and adds:]


But he does have an eagerness to trust. And, I think, to see the best in people, no matter who they are.
dontgiveabuckland: (and the predator's my mind)

[personal profile] dontgiveabuckland 2018-02-28 12:39 am (UTC)(link)
[Don't worry, Faushe, Cam will only use this information to randomly hang out on your couch someday.

Cam shakes his head, moving to right one of the lamps than had been knocked over.
] Sorry, mate. The whole city's like this, with houses broken into.
willrevile: (0660)

[personal profile] willrevile 2018-02-28 12:44 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jim spares him a brief, concerned look over his shoulder. ] I've never heard of 'blood magic'. Can you give me a rundown of the potentials?

[ Treading carefully is only sometimes Jim's default; he's better at nudging other people to, always the one who ends up springing traps lying in wait. He'd have been an excellent - if curious immortal - redshirt. But it was not to be.

It's hard to make out any signs of other people in here, Solas's light creating odd shadows against the rocky shapes of the walls and ceiling, but Jim forges on ahead, attention primed for anything out of the ordinary.

After long minutes (or more? who can tell), there's a sound-- someone yelling, a struggle, and though it echoes in the winding corridors, it's something. Jim picks up his pace, trying to move fast enough to close the distance between them and whatever's going on without making too much noise as to confuse his own sense of direction.

Yellow light ahead, the telltale sign of a shaman's presence, one figure looming over the other-- ]


Hey! [ It's not a real warning, just shaking up the situation, prompting the shaman to flinch away from the person below. Barely a second later and a zip! of energy hits him from Jim's phaser. He staggers back, face twisted in anger, one hand clutching a long, curved blade. That guy should definitely be unconscious on the floor, Jim knows, but there must be something fueling him. He doesn't change the setting on his phaser, just shoots him again. If anything, it'll push him away from the victim. ]
daemonized: (203)

[personal profile] daemonized 2018-02-28 12:45 am (UTC)(link)
[No time to react, hardly any time to think. The dark stuff coiling around at his feet has barely dispersed before there's the warm pressure of hands at his chest, throwing him back. Giving him clear view of what happens next, that razor-sharp tail suddenly protruding from X'rhun's middle.

It's strange, what he feels, the way this one second seems like it lasts ten seconds too long. It isn't the jagged edges of panic, not quite, but there is the rush of ice in his veins. As if he's just witnessed someone crossing a terrible threshold, making a choice that cannot be undone. X'rhun is not immortal like himself. X'rhun's insides will not knit back together and heal like he can, so why.

And with so many things, that conglomeration of emotion that rises up and claws at his throat, Ardyn twists it into something his mind can easily process in moments like these -- utter, incomprehensible frustration.]


You fool, you-

[There's a desperate fire in those words, but he cannot even be granted the grace to finish his sentence. X'rhun is flung away like a lifeless doll, discarded and hitting a wall. He can see it, the way the chimera's tail twitches again, and Ardyn redirects his anger at the fallen monster. The monster that is, for all intents and purposes, about to die.

He summons the Sword of the Tall, the massive thing with roaring teeth coming into existence to meet that tail. It buzzes and Ardyn pushes hard against it, cleaving it off. The chimera cries out, but it is pained, weak. And soon, dead, with the way that Ardyn hefts his weapon up and over his head, a two-handed strike coming down to crush its skull.

A messy end, but he doesn't care. There's the hasty exhale of breath, a dismissal of his weapon in a flash of light, and then footsteps as he moves to where X'rhun's fallen.]


Why did you do that?

[He crouches down next to him, and that archaic part of his mind -- the healer that still lives in him like a weed -- tries to find the best way to move his form, a hand on his shoulder to turn to face him. An assessment of the wound. A hole in the middle, a quick loss of blood. Already, it's puddling near his boots.]
nostalgiabomb: (238)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2018-02-28 12:54 am (UTC)(link)
[ That’s almost a little tempting, and he hesitates for a second, fingers twisting where he grips the coin bags.

He’s exhausted, and while he thinks he could force himself to make the walk back to Wyver tonight, it’s going to be one hell of a slog. Much like Gamora, he’s not very confident on his ability to not collapse face first in the dirt when they’re 3/4ths of the way there – though he refuses to admit it.

He wavers, looking first in the direction of where the city lies, then to the clearing Gamora had pointed out earlier. ]


Wouldn’t you rather get back to civilization?

[ For a given value of “civilization,” anyway.

Because this night is bad enough as it is. The last thing he needs to hear right now (or tomorrow morning) is Gamora complaining about how they could’ve been at Wyver much sooner if it hadn’t been for Peter’s weak, Terran constitution. ]
godslay: (165)

[personal profile] godslay 2018-02-28 01:01 am (UTC)(link)
Yes.

[ Which is a flat, honest answer. She would rather be in civilization, would rather be in her own bed, but she doesn't want Peter to push himself to the point of losing consciousness. ]

But we'll both be better off if we take a break.

[ And she says "we" this time, to make it feel far less like Gamora is catering to the weak Terran. ]
daemonized: (156)

[personal profile] daemonized 2018-02-28 01:03 am (UTC)(link)
[Ardyn does more than just know what Prompto is. He had a hand in his creation, he was the man who planted the seed of the idea of MTs in Verstael's head, and let it germinate and blossom into reality. For all intents and purposes, Ardyn was more father to Prompto than the Research Chief. But oh, how he would hate to hear that. Perhaps he should keep the notion in his back pocket, should he think on it later.

He smiles a little lopsidedly.]


Well. Like I said. Naive.

[Prompto, thinking that Ardyn could do better for himself in this place? He had said something like that to him, once. But putting that into practice required a detachment from the idea of Eos, of the Prophecy. Of the promise that one day, he would be able to rest and be free from the darkness that he became.

Ardyn finds it hard to let go of that. Not when he had been clinging to that broken promise for millennia. Eager to play the part of villain, the role handed to him when he possessed nothing else. He had been so close.]


He doesn't even know the extent of what had been done to Eos. The state that it was truly left in.

[It's muttered, low but steady, as he finishes cleaning. He doesn't look up at her, not until he pulls away to assess his work. It should be ready for the bandages now.]

But ignorance is bliss, as they say.
Edited 2018-02-28 01:28 (UTC)
nostalgiabomb: (☆008)

[personal profile] nostalgiabomb 2018-02-28 01:08 am (UTC)(link)
[ Even without the benefit of seeing his face, the indecision is pretty clear in his body language. He hasn’t moved past her, for one, and he keeps glancing at the clearing; but he still hasn’t made a move to head toward it. The more space they put between themselves and Hell Mountain, the better, but— ]

... Fine.

[ Reluctantly, unenthusiastically, and he steps toward the place Gamora had pointed out. ]

Just a break. A short one. Then we can keep going. Okay?
daemonized: (94)

[personal profile] daemonized 2018-02-28 01:10 am (UTC)(link)
There are, as far as I'm aware, three that are awake. Myself, Prompto, and a woman named Aranea.

[If there are more, they are insignificant faces he does not recognize.]

So yes, you're correct. I am one of the lucky few who have awakened with familiar faces around me.

[Though he's using the word "lucky" a bit liberally.]
godslay: (196)

[personal profile] godslay 2018-02-28 01:16 am (UTC)(link)
Fine.

[ She'll agree to that much – or, at least, she'll agree that they can keep going after a break. The length of it will depend on how long Peter sleeps, since she probably won't wake him until he's had a few solid hours – no half hour nonsense. There's no way he would be effective with that little sleep, anyway.

She heads over towards the clearing with Peter, looking for a good place to settle. There's a tight grouping of trees that will make for decent cover, and it'll keep them from having an exposed back, and a patch of plush-looking grass that's vaguely welcoming. She finds a spot, then lowers herself down, folding her legs and leaning back against one of the trunks. ]
carefulapostate: (complicated mage stuff)

[personal profile] carefulapostate 2018-02-28 01:26 am (UTC)(link)
Blood magic is magic that draws from the power inherent in blood to fuel spells, as opposed to drawing from the Fade as I do. It also allows one to "alter" the blood- a blood mage is capable of controlling the minds of others, or twisting the form of living things to suit their needs.

In its simplest forms a simple cut can rectify a deformity, or purify a taint from people and objects. However in order to achieve more power, as is so often coveted, lives are sacrificed in hopes of binding demons, or enslaving beasts and people to do their bidding.

[It was about as simple as he could get with it, he could likely give countless examples of it, but much of it would be lost with the other's ignorance of magic. It helped fill some of the silence as they walked, Solas having an easier time of it that Kirk, Elves could see better in the dark than humans though there was admittedly not much to see here.

Once they stumble upon the shaman, however, Solas falls into the rhythm of combat without a word, casting a barrier around the pair of them. Kirk would notice little difference, other than an odd glow with small stray bits of energy hovring about them like fireflies- if he was attacked though, he would feel little more than the impact while suffering no injuries.

His next spell took a bit more preparation, a chill took to the air as he set protective wards on the ground. It was a rather obvious trap, the runes pulsating a faint blue- but that had never stopped others from barreling over the wards in the past and promptly getting themselves frozen. It would fortify their position at least.
]
punshots: (✘ optical.)

[personal profile] punshots 2018-02-28 01:41 am (UTC)(link)
[ Prompto opens his mouth to retort - there he goes, about the wedding again - before his stops himself short, glancing down to take in the sight of himself. In the panic and heat of the fight, he'd sort of forgotten about the whole...covered-in-blood thing. The smell is only slightly drowned out by the smoke on the air, but now it seems to be all he is aware of.

He's covered in someone else's blood.

He grimaces as he looks back up at Ardyn - but for once, his ire isn't directed at the man himself. ]


They did this to me alllll because I didn't want to paint the town red. Literally. [ A beat, and then he follows with: ] Is the party this big in Olympia?

[ What brought Ardyn to Wyver in the first place? ]
punshots: (✘ viewfinder.)

[personal profile] punshots 2018-02-28 01:42 am (UTC)(link)
[ Poor Carbuncle...creatures of aether or not, Prompto can't help but wince when the little guy sustains a bite from the creature. Or maybe it's because it's a sneak peek at what awaits them if this creature bests them.

But that won't happen. That can't happen. ]


Fire in the hole!

[ And Prompto fires the auto-crossbow, heavy bolt after heavy bolt expelled and hurtling towards the beast. One advantage of their tight quarters is that there is little room to miss it, even in the dark, and the bolts land true in one of the monster's legs, sending it down onto one knee. ]

Ha! Not so fast now, are you?
willrevile: (0920)

[personal profile] willrevile 2018-02-28 01:43 am (UTC)(link)
[ Jim smiles at the almost-joke, because he walked right into it. And: heh, success. He raises his hands in a submissive gesture before he shuffles the flat pack out from beneath his clothes - everything compressed and hidden, sensibly. He starts with propping the sticky drinks menu up on the end of the table to slightly obscure their business, before pushing his sleeves up and disinfecting his hands, because he wasn't raised by plague-bearing wolves. Then the latex (?) gloves go on, and he sets about an initial look at what the heck she's done to her arm. ]

Levitation would just be moving it, right? A field like that, you're having to shift and control the energy of everything interacting with the atoms you're suspending.

[ That had been the inspiration behind his question - what are the atoms being suspended in? From? Movement, energy, time? He's a good listener, and seems to comprehend; meanwhile he's going to clean her arm up, using slim, laser-sealed packages of chemical compounds only identifiable by the shorthand he's written on them. Jim's no scientist, professionally, but every command track trainee had to go the same survival courses. Every captain in Starfleet should be able to make anti-bacterial sludge and/or a questionably effective rocket launcher out of local minerals and paperclips. ]

Can you make a fist? Thanks. Ok, relax. [ Tape time. There is no way in hell he's doing anything as barbaric as stitching her. ] What do you do about light in a vacuum?
originallutece: It's not going well (talk; reading isaac asimov)

[personal profile] originallutece 2018-02-28 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
I made a container for it, naturally.

[She's watching him closely, not only to make sure he isn't doing something he oughtn't, but because it's fantastic.]

It isolated them, and made it much easier to control. But that was when I was younger. I found a way to extend the field over chosen areas-- I set up certain points beneath the city, each with their own container, and let the field stretch out there.

[bioshock has absolutely no details on this kind of thing i'm so sorry]

What kind of chemical compound is that?
punshots: (✘ tilt.)

[personal profile] punshots 2018-02-28 01:47 am (UTC)(link)
[ He nods a little numbly, but then his eyes light up. He hasn't seen much in the way of resistance efforts in the city since this all began, but there must be some of Wyver's population not going crazy, right? There must be others trying to make things right. ]

Running - running I can do. [ A slight smile. ] We'll see if I can track down a pair of wheels again this time.
punshots: (✘ charmes.)

[personal profile] punshots 2018-02-28 01:49 am (UTC)(link)
[ Saving people from burning is the same sort of thing that got Prompto thrown in here, so at least they're in the same boat. And at least they have the same reason to be pissed off at those shamans.

So they're in this together now. ]


No. Don't think so, anyway. [ He's gotten a little turned around in here, but he's pretty sure he hasn't been down that way yet. ] Shall we?

[ He starts down the hallway, his steps light and jittery. ]
willrevile: (0202)

[personal profile] willrevile 2018-02-28 01:52 am (UTC)(link)
[ 1.) What in heck is the Fade? 2.) Blood magic sounds Very Bad.

But there's no opportunity to ask further probing questions - Jim files the information away to be followed up with at a later time. ]


Drop it and stand back, [ Jim tells the shaman in a tone of voice that most, non-blood crazy cave priests would probably obey. He's not the most intimidating looking human to ever exist (by far), but he's more than capable of projecting effective authority when he needs to.

Or, uh, not so effective, it seems. The shaman is woozy, uncoordinated, but still gripping the knife, while the civilian on the ground is making desperate, gasping noises. Jim pushes forward, mindful of the strange flickers of light, putting himself between the shaman and the civilian, giving Solas space to get behind and see if they can be saved.

Phaser's not doing any good, he decides, and doesn't bother firing again even when the shaman rushes him. His plan is to sidestep and grab the outstretched arm holding the blade, but the shaman steps over the runes, and-- ]
daemonized: (175)

[personal profile] daemonized 2018-02-28 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
Did they? I've not been dousing blood on people, and up until now, I've had no issue avoiding trouble. [He looks skeptical, as if he knows that can't possibly be the only reason.] You've been going about, trying to help people, haven't you?

[He almost has no doubt this is the case. That would do it -- to drag attention to Prompto, to cast him under a bright spotlight, a target painted on his back.

Regarding the question about Olympia:]
I certainly would like to know. [He'll be in for a surprise when he returns, that's for sure.] My visit to this city has been ill-timed, to say the least. But rather fortunate for you all the same.
originallutece: but at least i look gorgeous as hell (talk; on my way to a funeral)

[personal profile] originallutece 2018-02-28 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
Such as?

[She wiggles her fingers again, in no small part because she's leery over losing her mobility. But if that was to happen, it already would have, and so she stills them with a little frown.]

What doesn't he know about it?
chickenhearted: (Yᴏᴜʀ sᴄᴇᴘᴛʀᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏᴅ)

[personal profile] chickenhearted 2018-02-28 02:05 am (UTC)(link)
E-ehh? [ Waver looks up when he hears the female voice, briefly distracted from his own terror as he's tugged and dragged along. It's really not difficult for his attackers to move him around. He's small and weak.

It's that exact point that embarrasses him when he recognizes her. She's seeing him at his weakest! It's a terrible thing. ]


He was found aiding the enemy! He's sympathetic to Olympia!

[ The person she'd grabbed on to explains to her, trying to shake her off. Waver panics extra hard now. He doesn't want her to get hurt on behalf of him either. ]

It's no use! They aren't listening!