agentlelog | 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.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

( Sansa sighs a bit. Of course it was a planned attack. She hadn't lived with Petyr Baelish and not picked up a few of his tricks and this was chief among them - know your enemy, know how they think, know them in and out. Certainly the assassin would have done the same. )

She wouldn't have found him suspicious, either, if he was a regular customer. She was as well, after all, and she'd recognize him by face if not by name.

Exactly. [ Mary scans the crowd, mostly making sure that people are staying calm and that nobody is trying to leave. She briefly debates using Craft to seal the doors, but that would probably cause even more of a panic. So far everyone appears to be staying put. ]

Where are you from, my Lady? [ At this point, Mary would rather make conversation with her partner than try to keep questioning witnesses. Let Allairavar do with them what he will. ]

Winterfell, in Westeros.

( Sansa has grown used to no one knowing where that is aside from Jon and so she's added Westeros to the description even though it doesn't really seem to help. She wonders if that's how he identifies himself now or if he says he's simply from the North; she pushes it from her mind for now. )

And you, my lady?

Yorkshire, England.

[ Some have heard of her home and some have not. Sansa's sounds familar, only because she has already met somewhere here who is from there. ]

I believe someone else here mentioned being from the same place as you are. Jon Snow?

( Sansa nods a bit. If she's met Jon, she's met the only other person Sansa knows of from Westeros. She's not keen on learning if there are others from home if only because they might not be allies like her brother is. )

Jon is my brother, yes. We're not very much alike, I'm afraid. He tends to be dour all the time.

Ah. [ Mary smiles. ] He does seem a bit brooding, but I liked him all the same. [ Broodingly handsome, is the part that Mary leaves out. He seems kind though and he and Mary spoke about which jobs they might be able to take on in Draega. ]

Is it nice to have one of your siblings here with you?

( Sansa and Jon aren't exactly on the warm, friendly terms she'd gotten used to before he'd gone south but he's still her brother and dear to her. To say she wasn't happy to have him here would be a lie and Sansa does make it a point not to lie if she can possibly help it. She bends the truth when necessary, yes, but she tries not to lie. )

It is nice to have him here. We'll be working toward the same goal, after all, and it means that we have twice the chance to succeed. We can look out for one another as well. Do you have anyone from home, Lady Mary?

Sadly, no, not yet. I suppose there is always the possibility of someone arriving later, since it seems that more groups keep coming here.

[ Mary can understand fraught family relationships. In all honesty, she would not be happy to see her sister Edith here with her, but she does love her, even if they fight quite a bit. Perhaps Mary might even come to appreciate her presence if Edith were to arrive with a later group. ]

Perhaps so, and you wouldn't be lonely. Of course, you might worry for them here, too, so that's a double-edged sword.

( Sansa thinks Mary is rather kind and sensible thus far, someone worth knowing, and she hopes she might know her better in the future as well. Perhaps Mary has no one from home but she does know Sansa and Jon, so she'll be certain to check in with her from time to time. )

How long were you here before Jon and I came?

Yes. To be honest, there are some whom I would welcome more than others. [ She'd worry about all of them, even if she didn't want them to be here. ] A month. The Queen was very surprised when the second group of arrivals came. She thought her magic had only drawn those of us who arrived first.

I wonder if that means there will be new batches of strangers each month or if the spell is only bringing a certain number.

( There's no way to tell, really, but Sansa wants to puzzle it out all the same. )

There must be some connection between all of us, some reason we were chosen and others weren't.

I don't know. Perhaps the Queen could tell with her magic that we would be the ones who would be most likely to be able to utilize the Craft in order to help save this world.

[ It's a tall order, but Mary agreed to come here, so she's going to try her best. ]

That's very true. I would imagine she could see who'd have the ability and who wouldn't, if she had the magic to bring us here. It wouldn't be of use to bring those here who couldn't use Craft if we're meant to use it.

( Mary has given her something to think about, something Sansa will have to puzzle out on her own after she gets some time to herself. )

A very good point.

[ Which means there's possibly hope for Mary and her spells that go awry. Eventually she ought to be able to control the power of her jewel. ]

event: a gentle explosion

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