agentlelog | event: a gentle explosion

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event: a gentle explosion

I see a world just out of reach
With shoulders of giants at my feet
There’s not a challenge I’m afraid to meet

► The OOC plotting post for this event can be found here.

► Direct all questions to the mods at this link.

STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND
You wake, warm and comfortable, and realize that you’re no longer where you were when you went to sleep. The dream was real. As you clamber out of bed and open your door, an impassive footman greets you and leads you to breakfast in a large hall filled with many, many people. They sit around a hodgepodge of tables in a mishmash of furniture—nothing matches anything else, and no two chairs are the same.

The woman from your dream catches your eyes. She stares at you with open shock. “Well,” she says, as a number of males turn to her with withering looks. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.” She smiles at you. “Welcome to Draega, Stranger. Please, join us.”

Join them at the table and have your breakfast, Stranger. There isn’t much to offer: porridge, water, a bit of milk, some wrinkled fruits, and bread. Coffee, thankfully, is not in short supply. Meet your fellow Strangers, both the ones choosing to live at the Queen’s Residence and those who arrived in the night with you.

As breakfast draws to a close, the Queen’s Steward, Prince Loren Sorey, explains that you may choose to find your own home or stay in the residence for as long as you please. Those who stay will receive a modest stipend but are required to participate in Allairavar’s morning trainings every day. At dawn. Before breakfast. Those who go will need to find their own homes among the ruined buildings of the city and make their own money.

The court begins filtering out of the Great Hall, dispersing to attend their many duties. Linger, Stranger, and overhear…

“What did you mean?” The man leaning over the Queen is Prince Allairavar. His membranous wings flare around him, and his expression is menacing. “This wasn’t supposed to happen?”

Queen Fayura doesn’t look at all alarmed by the massive man caging her against a wall. “It was a one-time spell,” she says. “The web was—” Her eyes go wide. “I need to go look at the web.” She ducks under Allairavar’s arm, which could put a tree trunk to shame, really, grabs Prince Verim, and drags him from the hall.

Allairavar bares his teeth at the wall and snarls. The sound rumbles through the room, and dark temper washes briefly through the residence before all the tangled webs tucked in corners absorb it, leaving the building peaceful and clean of psychic feeling once more.

A TALE OF TWO IDEALS
At exactly 5:46pm, an explosion rocks the city of Draega. Black clouds belch fire to the northwest of the city. Concurrently, in Old Town, a mob of landens armed with Breakers and Muters descends on The Last Meal. They surround an older, Blood woman.

i. Black Out
The power plant maintained by the Tinkers and the Elektrics has exploded. Across Draega, e-line appliances shut down and the city plunges into darkness—the sun set some 45 minutes ago.

Prince Loren reaches out to approximately half the Strangers, asking them to go to the power plant. He shares a mental map with them so they know how to reach the building, as well as the Craft used for air-walking. The tutorial is quick and hardly complete, but now you’ll be able to run above the city to reach your destination.

The power plant burns. Black smoke pours into the air. Master Elektric Doriah organizes the Tinkers and Elektrics who were able to escape on their own. A quick glance reveals how absolutely exhausted she is. When Strangers approach, she sneers but isn’t about to turn away good help.

“There are still people inside. The Blood who did this trapped us in shields.” She hesitates only a moment before collecting Breakers from guildmembers carrying them. “Take these. Your Jewel may not be able to break through the shields.”

Inside, well-ordered building is a mess of fire and melting steel. Airwalking protects your feet, and shields can keep out the heat, but you’ll need something more to protect your lungs. Put out fires, stop systems from overloading, save the machines from complete destruction, and rescue missing workers who are suffocating and cooking inside shields. The guildmembers trapped in the power plant will assist the Strangers who free them, helping mitigate the damage done to the plant and keep it from exploding the rest of the way.

ii. Death of a Councilwoman
Councilwoman Vera enjoys dinners at The Last Meal, and this is well known by everyone in the city. Today, public knowledge of her schedule doesn’t work so well in her favor.

As she approaches the restaurant with her family, a group of landens descends on them. Muters prevent the Blood from taking any action that isn’t purely physical, and this is enough to throw most of them off their stride; they’re used to relying on Craft to fight. The landens separate Vera from her family in a short-lived brawl. She shouts and screams—“Let me go! Don’t you know who I am? The Queen will have you executed for this! Your families will be thrown out of the city! You’re making a mis—”

A shot rings through the air.

The landens peel away from one of their own, a young man gripping a Breaker in both hands. He trembles as he stands over Councilwoman Vera, whose expression is frozen forever in shocked disbelief. Her body crumples to the ground, blood from a gunshot wound on her chest staining the white fabric of her blouse.

In the silence that follows the shot, Allairavar shoves free of the crowd. “Go home!” he snarled, Craft powering his voice.

No one moves.

Except the young landen man. He takes off at a run, and the crowd is still too horrified to do much to stop him. Allairavar wastes no time. He plunges after the young man. At the same time, he reaches out to the minds of the Strangers closest to Old Town. *The Ebon Council is, collectively, a sack of reeking shit, and Lady Vera was a bitch,* Allairavar tells the Strangers. *But if we don’t get between the Blood and the landens, we’ll have another war. We can’t afford another war. Keep them from killing each other while I deal with this idiot.*

AIR TIME
Whether you catch the news on a Far-caster in the city or you’re spinning the dial on your own device, you’ll hear…

the news
…angered local landen families by her hard-line position that Blood homes should receive priority as the city continues to recover from the fires set by the Hunter Guild last month. [The man speaks at a brisk pace, hurried and harried as though he has too much to say and not enough time to say it.]

Councilwoman Vera is known for her vocal disdain for the landen Guilds, isn’t that right, Garret? [Another man, nasally in tone. He doesn’t sound rushed so much as put upon.]

[Garret:] Correct, Wilt. She—excuse the interruption, but we are just now hearing— [The feed abruptly cuts off. Static pours from the Far-caster regardless of what local channel it is tuned to.]

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[clarke had actually noticed how the food quality had decreased but she isn't actually too fussed with the type of meal they are receiving if only because she is used to living off far less than this and worse conditions so she is eating her breakfast as usual.

she similarly overhears the conversation and as the queen leave the room, it only leaves her with more questions because what was that even about? she is abruptly brought out of er thoughts hearing the person next to her speak up] What makes you think that?

[ Oh gods, where to even start? The number of problems he has can't be counted, and it doesn't help that Haein knows this. ]

Yes, [ said very matter-of-factly. ] Didn't you know? My sole reason for being is to annoy you.

[ He's obviously being sarcastic, but his petty, grudge-holding ass hasn't forgotten how their first meeting went down. ]

[clarke had been staying back at the queen's residence today to help there since things were settling down with the power being back on and just as she happens to be walking by, she immediately stops upon recognizing leo who seems to have fallen asleep near the wall and not looking in the best shape either]. she heads over to approach him and gently try to wake him up] Leo— hey, wake up. This really isn't the best place to be sleeping.

[ clarke is eating her own breakfast but she can't help but notice him tentatively eating his food not long before pushing it away only to just watch everyone else eat instead. she pauses what she was doing and looks over to him with slight concern] Not feeling that hungry?

Bland stuff, basically! If I can't eat specific rations or meals, stuff like porridge and breads and juices and stuff will do. I'm sure they have that stuff here so I'll drop by their market to buy something. [ but that's later on in the day.

for now - daylight looks down and pokes at his porridge, trying to will himself to eat it so something is in him. after what he's heard while making his way to the dining hall, he knows he can't be picky about his share of meals while here.

but his tanks are churning enough that he doesn't trust himself to keep it down if he tries to down it in one go. ] Guess I'm just a little worried. It looks like I'm the only mechanoid here unless you guys are hiding other robotic folks somewhere?

[ he's joking. mostly. ]

Aaaand here comes a giant robot, making their way to her table as they try to carefully hold a tray of their share of breakfast. Due to their size and their colouring, they're definitely one of the new faces to this place.

"Hi there!" They - he, actually, judging by the voice - wave at her in greeting. Or try to. He really doesn't want to spill their food. "Can I sit with you? There's a lot of space here and, um, it'll be nice to have my winglets get some breathing room."

[She had the custom to take care of her own dishes, though the coffee mug Aithne clung to and did often let that lone bit on a table before she exited for the morning ritual. As she passed the man, the comment caught her ear.]

"Be valuable, be it with arms, wit, or sweat of the brow."

[Her words might come harsh, though her tone is light. The tall, black haired woman paused in her steps.]. "There is demand for construction due to the fires, if that catches your interest."

If the woman was shocked she hid it well. With a smile AIthne gestured to the space opposite of her. In fact she looked rather amused, though that was due to the last bit of his entrance.

“Feel free.” Though she did wonder on what seemed to be a machine being concerned about food. The bread temporarily forgotten as she took a sip from her mug.

“Winglets do need their room.” A serious nod, before she smiled. “Break your fast, and welcome. I am Aithne, an obvious Stranger as they call us.”

No experience usin' a breaker, eh? Don' worry, I cant even aim a bloody handgonne to save my life either. [The presence of the eyepatch should make that obvious in itself, even if the Miqo'te's reasoning for wearing it is something else entirely.

But that's why he uses magic and swords instead-- magic cares not a whit if you're blind, half-blind, or having any sort of issue with your eyes. You just cast it.

And it's magic he uses now, even as he hefts his greatsword onto his shoulder. Wisps of dark reds and blues surround Rhus' body, and the Miqo'te throws himself bodily at the shield, sword first, and shatters it.]

[Rhus shakes his head and shrugs as he peels a browning banana.]

I'm furry-- and a Stranger besides. Cant help you there. [Implying that no, he doesn't know if there are any, definitely. He hasn't been here long at all, not long enough to properly get to know the population of Draega.]

What I can tell you though, there was some bread around earlier. If it weren't snatched up already, you should get it.

Jonathan gives her a surprised look at the remark, although it softens into a small smile after a moment. Mary strikes him as the type to worry about others, someone who has a surprising level of compassion for everyone she meets, and he's reminded of his own Mary.

"I'm not ill, Mary," he says gently, knowing it's not strictly a lie but still disliking having to say it. "I am simply afflicted with a... condition that means I look this way."

[The flick startles him away and Jonathan draws back with a growl, his pupils are narrowed down to pin pricks in the pale blue of his iris. His gaze flicks to Peter's neck and immediately he lunges for him, intent on sinking his teeth into a thicker artery so he can make short work of his prey.]

Self-consciously dragging his wrist across his lips, Jonathan looks away from Haein and deeper into the alleyway. He doesn't like the fact that the younger man is right, but at the same time...

"What else am I to do?" he asks, turning back and taking a step closer, a frown creasing his brow. "Where else should I go? The palace where there are people everywhere? The city? What exactly would you have me do?"

[It surprises Henry to have his question turned back on him. He dips his head as he answers.]

Of course.

[Rumour back home says that Hotspur would turn on any he judged unworthy, be they friend or foe. It is definitely true that he is headstrong and opinionated.]

Yet I would choose the field of battle over court every time.

Perhaps just so we can make our lives a little easier without relying completely upon it. I've heard you can use it to communicate mind to mind without using your voice at all. That could be a good thing, over long distances.

( As much as it makes Sansa nervous to let someone into her mind, she can see the good in utilizing such magic in an emergency. )

Right, we should pretend at having conversation ourselves so as to not look suspicious but, yes, we should basically just wander about until we find someone who takes notice and then we can...apply some gentle leverage.

( Sansa doesn't imagine herself to be the best at this, by far, but she did have excellent tutors in the subject of eavesdropping and subterfuge. Oh, but if only Arya were here. She'd be better at it. )

That's my plan, at any rate.

You sound like my brother, though I don't think he'd profess himself as having any real experience with judging character. Too honorable by half. I think to be a proper judge of character, one must be a little dishonorable so as to see the false intentions of others.

( Sansa herself had once been entirely too trusting, believing in crib tales and the goodness of people. Now, she has honor, but she has the wisdom to see past lies. It's a skill sorely needed. )

( Sansa is familiar enough with Horatio, after having assisted him with the Craft class and seeing him at breakfasts in the Queen's residence. She isn't familiar with this sort of card game, she doesn't think, but she's played enough parlor games in her day. She settles in a chair across from him. )

Which game are you setting up for, my lord?

Yea. Seems like it wasn't a dream though. [She pauses and eats a spoonful of porridge thoughtfully] Then again, I suppose it still could technically have been a dream, just a real one.

Name's Alex by the way. Genderfluid, current pronouns are she/her. [The last part is said with quite a bit of defensiveness, and there's a tension in her shoulders that wasn't there a moment ago.]

[Molly, having wandered in with the hopes of taking respite from what occurred at the plant, sees the chaos unfolding and almost just walks out to seek a better class of establishment when he notices Zita in the middle.

Well. Gotta get involved in that, then.

He elbows his way through the crowds until he's right in the thick of it, selecting whichever person seems like the biggest contender for escalating the problem and locking eyes with him, his thick brogue taking on a slightly arcane aura.] Gentlepersons, the lady has made a very genuine and heartfelt request of you, and I think it's in your best interests to let these fine folk continue on with their day free of a conflict none of them asked to be a part of.

[There's a brief, glazed look in the man's eyes and then he backs off, nudging some of his group and making up some excuse about them having a valid point. Against his back, the other group starts to try and push past so they can pursue.]

[Alex had been wandering, his hands in his pockets, scanning the area for anything useful he might be able to pocket. Maybe it wasn't super ethical or whatever, but in the end, he wasn't afraid to do whatever he had to to survive. Especially in this weird new place.

Seeing someone vaguely familiar isn't exactly an unusual occurrence - he's met a lot of people since arriving, but the hail does get a surprised raised eyebrow from Alex.]

Hey there. Whatcha need?

'Cause I would. And I wouldn't even feel bad about it.

[He gives him a pat on the cheek, instead, because Molly is bad at not touching people.] There you go. Don't you have a bed somewhere you could be in?

Molly pokes the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, just enjoying the taste of an unfamiliar tobacco as he fumbles in his pockets for a light of his own and comes up short. "It's fairly obvious, yeah. Don't suppose you can just pop off to a butcher and drain the livestock for them?"

The words sort of fall out absently. Aside from that first encounter with Jonathan, Molly has never met a vampire before, and yet he feels like he has knowledge of them, coming out of a dark corner of his mind where the information about Fjord's strange patron and Kylre's race emerged. He tries not to think of where that information really came from.

Edited 2019-02-25 20:08 (UTC)

Allairavar had issued a very clear order, or so he thought. After mentally reviewing the last thirty seconds, he was certain that his words had been crystal clear. Bending a look of thin-lipped disapproval on the woman flying over him, Allairavar bit back a snarl. He didn't have time to argue. Later, though, he'd have a talk with this one about following orders.

*Stay on him,* Allairavar sent over a psychic thread of Purple Dusk as he plowed through the crowd. They might still be in range of the muters, but raw muscle would do until he was out of range.

The man rushed ahead, barreling through the street in a direction so forthright that it took no effort to know where he headed - the Guild Halls.

*Watch out for - * Allairavar didn't get a chance to finish the thought before the sound of gunfire overtook the roar of the crowd behind. *Breakers. Be careful, Lady. They'll do more than clip your wings if they ground you now.* The man took off down a narrow alley where clothes lines and makeshift shades muddied the view from above.

It feels like it happened to someone else, sort of. Kinda like you watched it happen, and then you woke up and realized, "Oh... That happened to me." [He reaches up and touches the dark green bauble that dangles from his horns.] Finding this in my pocket was fairly surprising, but we were also rudely awakened that first night, so it took awhile to figure it out. There was a lot going on.

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event: a gentle explosion

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Strangers

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iii. c a r d s

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ii. AND I AM AN IDIOT

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