agentlelog | event: a gentle arrival

I won't give up so don't give in
You've fallen down but you can rise again

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

► Direct all questions to the mods at this link.

SWEET DREAMS AREN'T MADE OF THIS
The dream isn't unpleasant, just strange. Mist curls around you long after the woman fades. You hold a Jewel in your hand, marveling at its multifaceted surface and feeling the thrill of new, untapped power. Anticipation surges in you: that feeling of wrongness that so often accompanies a nightmare you can't wake from. Anticipation becomes fear. You look up, certain that at any moment the mist will pull back and reveal something gruesome and terrible.

A scream. A piercing wail, that sound that accompanies a violent death. The sound doesn't come from your dream, and it jolts you awake. You…

i. Are alone in your room, and have a moment to gather yourself. Wherever you laid down to rest, you've woken up somewhere different. Somewhere strange. There's a comforting weight in the air—a feeling of welcome, of belonging. Then another scream pierces the night. In your dream, the woman asked for a hero. Maybe you already consider yourself a hero or maybe you don't, but now seems as good a time as any to either be one or start pretending.

ii. See a dark shape looming over you. You have no time to assess the place you've woken up, though you have a quick flash of insight that your dream must have been more than a dream and the woman to whom you spoke has brought you to her world and her home. There's no time to marvel at this. The shadow above you draws back, a pistol Breaker in their hand. Even if you've never seen a gun before, you can somehow taste their malice and hatred. They're pointing a weapon at you, and your scream might be the next to tear through the midnight darkness.

Landen Hunters have infiltrated the Queen's Residence. How stalwartly you choose to fight them off is up to you, but you'll quickly encounter members of Fayura's First Circle defending against the attackers. Allairavar rallies the people of the court, ensuring the most vulnerable are well guarded in the massive dining hall. Loren maintains a Green shield around the room, and only those of the court or the Strangers can enter. There, Healers tend to the wounded, and the children who live at the residence are kept safe.

Amidst the turmoil, you overhear snippets of conversation:

A Healer, quietly, to her patient: If the Lady isn't here, she and Prince Verim must be working some spell to protect us. Rest easy, Prince.

Lord August, speaking quickly to Prince Lachlan as they rush by: —monsters find out the Queen would be bringing help to us tonight? Who told the Hunters—

An injured footman, worried: —see the flames through the window. Landens live in Old Town. How unsurprising that the Guilds would come up with a distraction that hurts their own, too.

FLAME AND FURY
Beyond the Queen's Residence, the Old Town Bazaar burns. Horrified faces gather at the east-facing dining hall windows, and distraught whispers fill the air. Someone cries out that their sister lives in Old Town.

Loren reacts first. He calls for volunteers from the Strangers, and you have the distinct impression that he measures you by your response. "The Hunters—" He grimaces, realizing the Strangers probably don't know what he means. "—landen assassins came in the night to kill you. They've lit part of our city on fire to prevent us from following them. We don't know who, specifically, came for you, but we know where they've gone to ground, so we don't need to chase them down. What we do need to do is stop the fire from spreading. The First Circle will stay here and defend the residence. Who among you Strangers, those of you who came here tonight, will help with the fires?"

Those who agree to help are sent with Allairavar to put out the flames. As you travel with him, Allairavar provides a crash-course in creative application of Craft.

*You wear the Jewels, so you can shield. You should know how, if the Lady's spell worked. Shield yourselves to protect from the flames. Use Craft to shield the buildings and starve out the fires,* he says on a psychic thread so that everyone can hear him and he doesn't need to waste his breath by shouting. *Rescue anyone trapped in the buildings regardless of who they are. Be on the look out for Hunters—the assassins Loren mentioned. They're sneaky bastards, and they'll use our focus on helping the people to put knives in our backs if they can.*

Put out fires, use your powers or Craft to support buildings before they collapse, and rescue landens and Blood alike from the damage done by the Hunter Guild. Be wary and alert, and try not to damage the city more than the fires already have should you encounter Hunters. Blood families will go with the Strangers more easily than landen families, but Allairavar makes it clear that if you have to physically remove someone from a burning home or one that is about to collapse then that is exactly what you should do.

REST FOR THE WEARY
Dawn breaks on the horizon, painting the city of Draega a hazy red. With little wind, the smoke hovers around the city. In Old Town, even buildings that didn't burn begin to smell like the fire.

A somber weight falls on the Queen's Residence. In the aftermath of the night's events, Loren introduces himself to each of the Strangers individually if possible but to groups if he must: He is the Queen's Steward, and his Queen was the one who worked the spell to bring them to Draega. He apologizes for the circumstance of their arrival and that the Queen is currently indisposed. Everyone, he explains, can stay in the residence for as long as they would like, and he makes it clear that by no means are the Strangers required to remain in the residence nor will they be viewed with suspicion or distrust by the court if they decide to find their own homes.

Those with medical skills or healing powers are brought to the dining hall to help the Healers. The Healer in charge is a young, Yellow Jeweled woman who has exhausted her Craft and desperately needs assistance. Anyone who inquires about her position within the court, either to her or others, learns that she is highly skilled and spent her childhood in the landen Medico Guild before taking a chance on her half-Blood heritage and making an Offering. While she wears one of the lightest Jewels in the residence, even Allairavar submits silently to her attentions and he offers no excuse when she chastises him for getting injured.

Midway through the day, Allairavar and Loren make the mistake of having an unshielded conversation near the dining hall. Anyone nearby can overhear…

"I spoke briefly to Verim," Loren says, voice low and urgent. "They weren't caught in the fire, but Allairavar…"

A muscle in Allairavar's jaw ticks. His massive, membranous wings fan out to fill the hall before he pulls them tight to his back. "She's injured."

Loren nods. "Badly. The backlash of power struck her hard, and Verim couldn't help her absorb it." Tension lines Allairavar's body, and Loren quickly adds, "You can't kill them. She brought them here to help us—"

"Our Queen is vulnerable," Allairavar hisses. "There are strangers in our home." A dangerous, wild look fills his eyes. "Does she plan on doing this again? We're not letting her." He rocks back and forth on his feet with the nervous energy of a man contained and about to explode.

"So we'll strand these people here?" Gentle concern fills Loren's eyes. "She'll need to do this once more to send them home."

All that nervous energy abruptly vanishes, and Allairavar bends a sleepy-eyed, malevolent look on Loren. "Would you ask our Queen to destroy herself for these people?"

Violence cloaks both men, but the threat of action rests solely on Allairavar. Loren keeps his voice gentle. Soothing. "Do you really think she would have made the offer if she couldn't send them home? Do you think she would truly be so cruel as to demand they come here with no chance of ever returning home?"

Allairavar is quiet for a long moment. The tension slowly flows out of him, leaving him looking weary and exhausted. "Yes," he finally says, tone grim. "Because to her, the price is worth it to save the world. And she would accept it for any of them if they asked." He runs a hand over his head and sighs heavily. Without another word, he turns and walks away. Loren does not call after him.

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…

etiquette with evandra and aren
[Evandra's voice is a little bit rough and a little bit husky, the kind of voice that gives bad ideas to young men and headaches to fathers.] Just because the Blood have no law against murder doesn't mean you can kill anyone on the street—or in their homes, isn't that right, Lord Aren?

[Aren's voice is chipper and bright. He sounds more like an eager boy than the full-grown man he is.] Quite true, Evandra! Unless someone has done something to merit execution, wanton murder is generally frowned upon. A Queen can demand a price for the death of someone in her Territory or court.

[A thoughtful hum from Evandra.] So, the Hunter Guild's attack on the Queen's Residence last night isn't illegal, but it was incredibly gauche. And now they face possible retaliation from her and her court. How ghastly!

[Aren agrees.] A dreadful affair. Remember: just because you can doesn't mean you should.

[Evandra:] Quite so. Something for us all to consider. As always, I'm Evandra.

[With solemn dignity, Lord Aren says:] I'm Aren, and you've been listening to…

[Together:] Etiquette with Evandra and Aren. [Jaunty outro music plays. Perhaps they should reconsider this particular tune on dark occassions.]

the weather
[A soft-spoken man's voice rumbles out of the Far-caster. He's pleasant to listen to, with a soothing cadence to his voice.] …overcast and snowy days with temperatures hovering around freezing during the day and dropping at night. Need to tune up your e-line heaters? The Elektriline Guild is offering a limited-time discount this week to ensure you stay warm around the clock.

the news
…distressed to hear of the incident at the Queen's Residence. [The man speaks in a slow, smooth voice. His words ring with heartfelt sincerity.] Though Lady Fayura and I don't often see eye-to-eye— [He chuckles at this, as though he's made a joke. Another man, presumably an interviewer, chuckles along with the air of someone who isn't sure this is a joke they should be laughing at.] —I condemn the actions taken by the Hunter Guild. Destroying people's homes is simply unacceptable.

But one wonders what that surge of power was just prior to midnight. Craft, surely, but to what end? Was that the spell the Queen used to summon these… Strangers from other Realms? Surely we can agree that such action, taken independently of the Guilds and the Ebon Council, much as we don't get along, is cause for concern. I believe the Lady has overstepped, and it is my firm hope that Lord Grejor issues an injunction against her for such flagrant disregard for the law.

[The interviewer speaks, and his voice is faintly strained.] Thank you, Grand Master Niall, for talking to us on this issue.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Awake. Not a dream. That's a gun and the echoes in this place are too dark and too strange. Maeve screams, a shrieking battle cry as she flings her arms in front of her and strikes out with a strange power she feels tingling in her chest and her swallow tattoo tingling as she performs a brief kenning for speed. The attackers gun goes flying, but the figure doesn't and she forced into desperate grapple amount her bedsheets. If her scream didn't call allies--for either her or the ruffian upon her--then her loud and snarling curses certainly will.]

[It's the explosion of magic what catches him off-guard, his sense for magic strong. It's nothing like he's sensed before, and naturally he must investigate.

By attacking first and asking questions later, muscles coiling into attack when he realizes the person being threatened is a familiar face, and he launches himself several fulms through the air at the potential assassin, bowling that person over and wrestling them onto the ground.]

[The assassin writhes beneath Rhus, and it takes Maeve precious seconds to extricate herself from her bedding. When she does, however, she aims a sharp kick at her assailant's ribs, not quite caring that her rescuer is in the way.

Well, she cares, but first thing's first: incapacitating the asshole who just tried to fucking murder her.]

Incoming.

[She's in her bare feet, but she doesn't care.]

[Probably best that Maeve alerts Rhus to more hunters, when he's busy choking the life out of the one he already has in his grasp. Would have killed the person too, in fact.

But no, instead the Miqo'te is scrambling out the door again, drawing his blade and ready to beat the ever-living shite out of anyone who crosses him.

And beat he does, slamming the flat of Caladbolg down against the head of one of them.]

[Maeve gets in a few more kicks to her assailant before leaving them curled on the floor wheezing. They're not going to be getting up any time soon, and she sure as hell isn't staying in the room one second longer.

She chases after her rescuer, slamming her elbow into the face of one of the Hunters just about to take a shot at Rhus.]

I think not.

[A straight-armed punch to the Hunter's jaw and they're reeling and out of it for long enough for her to hook the gun from their hands and fling it hard down the hall. So now there's her, several badguys, and Rhus. She's not a brawler. She really should have thought this through. At least Rhus has a sword. A sword and another attacker aiming a dagger at his back.]

Behind you!

[It's not that Rhus is slow to react-- he lets the hunter stab him, the Miqo'te simply angling himself so the dagger catches him in the meat of his side in a shallow wound rather than in the back to any soft, sensitive parts.

And when the pain blooms in his body, he reaches deep within to the darkness within him, and immediately wisps of red, blue and indigo so dark they could be mistaken for black burst from his body, wracking it harder than the stab wound would ever do to him.

When he stops jolting as if shocked by lightning, Rhus slouches. He looks like he's tired and in pain, but the look in his eyes should say otherwise. Not to mention how fast he moves, leg shooting out to give the hunter a kick below the belt.]

Are you crazy?

[Her exclamation is snarled in between her kicking the Hunter that she'd disarmed hard in the shins. The damned catman had let himself get fucking stabbed. Her Hunter swears at her, hopping on one leg before trying to lash out again.

The whisps of darkness that burst forth from him on the heels of her words, however, startle her hard enough that she drops back and pretty much just watches him kick the shit out of the Hunter who'd attacked him.

She's distracted only by the necessity of raking her fingernails down the disarmed Hunter's face. She needs a damned weapon. Still, when Rhus doesn't look like the stabbing had done at all what she expected, she has just one question.]

What the hell?

[He's bleeding-- that's at least one thing to be expected. He's in pain as well, another thing to be expected.

But Rhus digs his fingers in the flesh around his wound and makes it hurt more, his pain causing his magic to grow stronger and curl around his body like smoke... Or perhaps even miasma. And he can hear Fray whispering in his mind to just do it, you've been buggered over in this place, making nice to strangers who would kill you no matter what, just bloody do it.

And he does it, driving his fists into the hunters around, magic-enhanced punches that make him a whirlwind of furious energy. And he even dives well past Maeve to smash in the face of the person she was just clawing at.]

What are you doing?

[Her words come out in a hiss, aghast and not a little bit horrified by the fact that he's digging around at his own wound.

She can guess the reason though, when he lashes out with renewed vehemence and punches...basically everyone except her within a ten foot radius. That doesn't mean she's not confused and angry about it.

Rhus's explosion of violence, though, takes out their opponents rather decisively, and the one assassin who was still almost standing gets a good shove from Maeve to send them right to the floor. Then all that's left is the dust settling.

Maeve pants, then eyes Rhus, waiting in the calm after the fight to see what he'll do.]

[Adrenaline still rushing through his veins, he's still not debilitated by the pain, despite feeling it so keenly. Gods, it hurts, but Rhus is moving like it doesn't.

Strength is pain, after all.]

Anymore? [He sniffs the air, though doesn't think there are more enemies to be had.]

event: a gentle arrival

Sweet Dreams -- Rescued -- Closed to Rhus

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