event: a gentle explosion

[thestewards]

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.]

Comments

[theladyofwinterfell]

Well, the goal would be to let each party air their grievances one at the time and then arbitrate as a neutral party. When I hear disputes at Winterfell, I allow each to speak and present their side of things without interruption from the other. It helps that I am their ruler on authority of the King in the North. We have no such social status here.

( This, of course, makes things more difficult. )

However, if we do things for each side and show we can be a help to them, perhaps they will respect us enough to allow us to mediate.

[illequipped]

Hmm. [Sounds legitimate enough? He doesn't have enough relevant experience to dispute or agree with any of that, really, but she seems level-headed, so... sure! Sure, why not.

That said,] Like working for them? I hope they don't need anything unreasonable like a few dozen people to clean out their stables or something, because I did not sign up for that.

[theladyofwinterfell]

( Sansa lets out a soft laugh, amused at the idea of mucking a stable. She's never done such a thing and she doubts that would be a good use of her talents. )

If it's stables they want mucking, I'm afraid I will be of little use to them. I'm a lady with soft hands - I've not done manual labor. Still, I think we can at least help listen to disputes and be a neutral party to aid in other projects as they come up. We have to try, at least.

[illequipped]

[Emil is a lady with soft hands at heart, himself, physical labor is horrible and he'd rather die. Maybe he can just stand in the background and look pretty while other people do the talking...]

I guess. It wouldn't kill them to provide a little more for us in the meantime.

[theladyofwinterfell]

Hmm, yes, you're not entirely wrong there. I feel as if we had a specific task assigned to us we might feel less aimless. Still, I endeavor to try and help wherever my skill allows me. I may be limited, naturally.

( Sansa lifts her hands and smiles a bit. )

Soft hands, you see. Quite the hindrance.

[illequipped]

Okay, am I missing something, or is that just a joke? You keep bringing it up!

[The soft hands thing. He doesn't know, maybe there's a soft hands medical condition... This is actually a genuinely honest question.]

[theladyofwinterfell]

I was making a joke this time, yes. I was merely alluding to the fact that I won't be much help with anything physical.

( Sansa grins at him a bit and leans in, wanting to be friendly if she can. It feels strange to smile this much but it's been a long, long while since she's been unburdened and untroubled by the goings on at Winterfell and the state of the North. )

I was only trying to make you smile a bit.

[illequipped]

[Oh, so he's just a dingus, that's the usual. He scoffs, making a face— once she says she wants him to smile in such a straightforward way, he's suddenly very aware of what his face is doing. It's a brief war with himself over how much cool aloofness he should try to maintain, but he's already lost - he can't help but smile, sheepish now.]

Oh. Okay. [Cool... he is handling this deftly.] Sorry, the people I usually spend time with don't have a sense of humor.

[Or, they do, but he's always the butt of those jokes so they suck.]

[theladyofwinterfell]

Ah, well, there's not usually much to laugh about where I come from. House Stark is notorious for being full of serious people, as well, so I imagine that even if I were back in my own castle, they would not expect the Lady of Winterfell to make a joke.

( Sansa laughs a bit and hides it behind her hand. This is much better than picking at her terrible breakfast, that's for certain. )

I imagine they all think I'm made of ice.

[illequipped]

Hah, really? My people are just weirdos.

[Weirdos who pull pranks, which is never funny, ever.]

For what it's worth, I think you're perfectly fine. Not icy at all!

[theladyofwinterfell]

Ah, well, you're a kind soul. I've been trying to be a little warmer here. I feel that it might help when arbitrating disputes to have a friendly countenance.

( She can be this version of Sansa again, she thinks. It's hard to let go of everything that's happened back in Westeros, yes, but she has to try. She has to do her best to fulfill this contract. )

[illequipped]

Hmm, maybe. [He only acts... one way, ever... and does he not know what countenance means? Maybe not. Never mind that.

He pauses, thinking, then leans a little closer to her like this next topic is a big secret despite what it is:] Hey, what do you think of this magic business? I mean, are all of us supposed to be mages? That's ridiculous.

[theladyofwinterfell]

We do not have magic where I hail from. There's rumors of it, of course. There's a rumor that Red Priests can raise men from the dead - but I don't know how much to believe.

( Sansa touches her Purple Dusk jewel, set in a pendant. It's a lovely bit of jewelry even if she doesn't understand the full depth of what it allows her to do. )

The idea of being able to just...do things is not one I accept easily.

[illequipped]

That's what I thought! [Finally, someone understands!! His own jewel is still hastily shoved in his pocket, until he decides what to do with it - it's only the stern suggestions from the guards milling around the place that convinced him to actually carry it around, anyway.]

I mean, my best friend is a mage, but I don't do that kind of thing. Apparently that's stupid.

[He's on board with magic being real, but that's as far as he's gotten.]

[theladyofwinterfell]

It seems that they use this magic, this Craft, for almost everything under the sun. I cannot imagine using it the way they do. I suppose we ought to get used to it, though, since it's a part of it now.

( Sansa hasn't quite gotten the knack of making it look effortless, either, and it frustrates her to look clumsy at anything. )

Your closest friend uses magic?

[illequipped]

[Emil has already convinced himself that he just can't do it, and will never be able to do it, and that's where he's at with his informal magic education. Magic is... strange! At least, if he has to do it.]

Yeah, all the time. [Kind of. Yeah, no, it's a lot.] He's great, you know? I didn't think magic was real at all until I met him, and now...

[He gestures, which is meant to convey oh yes there is definitely magic, holy shit, somehow. He doesn't get it, but he can still gush.]

[theladyofwinterfell]

And now the two of us have the ability to do it, along with everyone around us. It's a bit maddening, really. I don't even know where to begin.

( Sansa has seen the Blood in the Queen's residence vanish and call in objects with little more than a thought and Sansa's attempts to replicate it have failed terribly. She doesn't know if she'll ever be good at it but she thinks she ought to learn. )

I suppose we ought to practice it, though.

[illequipped]

[Practice! What a thought. Emil thinks about it, here and now. Enh. He's really not into it? He could get by just fine without doing magic for every little thing, he thinks- he has gotten this far in life like that so far- but since his very dear magic buddy will give him shit for it forever if he doesn't...]

I really... don't want to, but if we have to, then fine. Maybe just a few things?

[theladyofwinterfell]

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. )

[illequipped]

That sounds... sooo fun.

[It sounds like hell, actually, but he can see the merit in a handsfree radio kind of situation. He shrugs, anyway.]

Are we going to have to take lessons? I'm not doing that.

[theladyofwinterfell]

I would rather have lessons and not accidentally blow myself to bits than the alternative, though. It still doesn't feel natural to me at all. I don't think it will ever feel natural.

( Sansa understands Emil's hesitation because she has it herself - it's just that she doesn't know what to do except move forward and try to adapt as best she can. )

[illequipped]

Hmm, probably not. [They can agree on that much; magic is strange and will always be strange, but when in not-Rome, etc.]

Do you really think that would happen? Blowing yourself to bits? I thought that if you don't practice any magic, it just won't happen.

[theladyofwinterfell]

I hope not. I really don't know how it works, not anything past the very basics. I confess I didn't ask about it much, either. I was too overwhelmed.

( Sansa looks at her Jewel and then back at Emil, mildly concerned. )

Perhaps we ought to practice with it just in case.

[illequipped]

[Ugggh they're going to explode if they don't use magic, aren't they! That would be just his luck. He sighs.]

Fine, I can afford to learn maybe a spell or two. But I don't want to sit through any lectures at a public school. We'll have to teach ourselves!

[theladyofwinterfell]

I am too old to go for schooling with children. I believe we ought to work on it amongst ourselves, yes. I don't think I'll use it much, though. It isn't in my nature.

( Sansa sighs a bit. It's frustrating, going through this, and she's glad there are other strangers to empathize with her. )

Would you like to work on it together, perhaps?