the coup

[groundrules]

Hello to our last Big Event of the year, covering 2-22 December and also subbing as our test drive.

Current players can play here or make separate logs & network posts. TDM tourists are confined to this playground, but can include network prompts in their top levels.

If you’re trialling a character, you can apply them until 21 December without a game invite. TDM characters can participate in the sign-up quests without taking up a slot, but cannot vote for event outcomes.

DO YOU HEAR THE PEOPLE SING?

---

Taravast’s civilians take to spirited protests and seize the Palace of the Doxe. They intend to redirect Doxe Bonaccorso Spina’s attention and resources to his people, livelihoods suffered in recent undead attacks. The Merchant sends ‘help’ to oust the Doxe.

Amid the chaos, Vannozza Spina seeks to apprehend her grandfather. Her cousin Macaluso, Bonaccorso’s prisoner, can be liberated. Outgunned, outmanned and outnumbered, Bonaccorso orders the city burned down.


TDM TOURISTS | OLD TIMERS | COMMON: THE COUP | NOTES

Image source.

TDM TOURISTS: THE BARREN BONES

You wake up in shallow water, other supine bodies beside you. The nearby occupants of a desert outpost greet you with a coarse translation and communication device and introduce you to their leader, the Merchant. He rescues otherworlders who were summoned to serve as weapons for warring undead factions, sending them east — where forgotten beacons can return them home.

A. A FRIEND IN NEED

Unconscious new arrivals are delivered every few days, recovered from the dunes. They are submerged in oasis waters. Some characters wake weaker of body and mind, struggling to focus their thoughts or their supernatural abilities — effects that recede within one-three days. Others are plagued by a drowning sensation for one-two days.

■ Help fellow newcomers as they regain their strength with sparring, a calming voice or a warm meal.

■ Newcomers must share tents and carry out camp tasks: hold the night watch, man fires, kill viper nests and excessively large scorpions or, fate help everyone if you’re related to Xie Lian, cooking.

B. A FRIEND IN DEED

Soon enough, the Merchant reveals more otherworlders are assigned in the nearby magical citadel of Taravast, which is on the brink of civil uprising against the ruling Doxe Bonaccorso Spina. Your fellows need you, cavalry.

The Merchant sends the fresh conscripts on a three-day journey to Taravast across a desert canyon, granting supplies, horses or seats in shared carts.

■ Fresh horses wait at specific landmarks, but some suppliers trade steeds for the better coin of rich merchants evacuating Taravast. If you end up stranded, find help.

■ Weather forecast: frequent, cruel sand storms that challenge even expert riders. Collect anyone who gets lost in the dunes — particularly near wild cougars.

■ Some Taravast refugees crowd or pretend accidents to loot your horses. A select few diplomatic convoys offer assistance, or try to confiscate your rides.

» THE LOUD CROWD

Image source.

OLD TIMERS: THE STREETS, RALLYING

Dissenting necromancers, healers and civilians begrudge Doxe Bonaccorso’s failure to ensure their safety and distribute repairs funds fairly. Many believe that Bonaccorso has been manipulated by Macaluso and Vannozza.

The initially peaceful protests exacerbate into after several days: demonstrators frequently come to blows with city guards around the 20:00 evening curfew. Protesters carry sharp and blunt weapons, small explosive talismans or banners. Some are ghost-summoning necromancers, others are sorcerers who command a small array of elemental spells.

■ Protesters try to enthusiastically conscript passers-by to their cause. Some assume characters leaving the Doxe Palace are nobility and try to kidnap and ransom them for an audience with Bonaccorso.

■ Merchants and the last few of Macaluso’s foreign suitors begin their exodus from Taravast and ask you to serve as escort in exchange for compensation.

■ Palace guards retaliate with disproportionate violence when they catch crowds without magic users or experienced combatants. Rescue some demonstrators — but prepare to run — or scout the streets so they can escape.

■ The clashes separate some Taravast residents from food, commodities and healers. Be a friend.

■ In rare good news, protesters share with Wrathion and Slick their battle and coordination signs and passcodes.

■ Some crowd contingents are less spirited about this endeavour — try talking them out of this revolution business.

■ Characters without powers or weapons can resort to the arsenal Wrench and Aang recovered from looters: daggers, maces, swords, bows and five-six man-sized water serpents, who heed those who first summon them out of their Poke balls.

» » THE BANNER MUST ADVANCE

Image source.

ALL TOGETHER NOW: THE BARRICADES

Within a week of the first demonstrations, the protesters and Doxe Bonaccorso’s guards have devolved into vicious and regular violence. Civilian demonstrators have been joined by many necromancers wielding fresh corpses, minor sorcerers, healers and a handful of expert combatants, assigned by sympathetic gentry. Bonaccorso’s men conduct regular inspections and arrests. The demonstrators meanwhile set traps of magical ice and explosives.

Led by the lawyer Giacomo Zanardo and the healer Sebastiano Bianchi, the mob seeks to storm the Palace of the Doxe and persuade Bonaccorso back to his senses, which have surely been corrupted by his absent nephew Macaluso and niece Vannozza.

RISE ONE, RISE ALL

Existing characters are soon joined by fresh reinforcements. Everyone receives the Merchant’s transmission:

”It has emerged, vocally, that Doxe Bonaccorso Spina no longer serves the interests of his city, his people or our contingent. The most efficient recourse is to depose him. How, and whether you choose to instate one of his successors, is of no consequence to me. I send a wave of our new otherworldly associates to assist you. Fair fortune.”

■ Zanardo and Bianchi organise a last bout of midnight merrymaking before the Palace attack at dawns. Meet your reinforcements at a… large, cold, rudimentarily decorated warehouse in one of Taravast’s dodgiest district. Close your eyes and smell the salted fish.

■ Old and new characters can collect further plain weapons from rioters. Slick receives command of five NPC protesters.

■ Pacifists can scout the Palace of the Doxe to report back the watch patterns, or try to persuade servants to open the gates.

■ Come dawns, protesters seize the Palace, meeting fresh waves of Bonaccorso’s guards in the gardens before advancing inside.

■ The Merchant informs Eleven and Shen Qingqiu they are required back in Taravast. He cuts a deal with local warlord Anurr, who supplies two transporters orbs that will transport the duo immediately.

Image source.

PARALLEL QUESTS (OPEN TO ALL)

Because of overlapping timelines, your character can only be signed up for one of the three following missions. Each quest will be capped at 15 characters: first come, first served. You can vote on game polls irrespective of what mission your character pursues.

NOTE: TDM tourists can participate in the quests and do not need to sign up. They can include prompts for one of the parallel quests in their top-level prompts, or can tag around. However, TDM tourists don't qualify for the NPC RNG draw and cannot vote on Bonaccorso's fate.


A. LET IT BUUUUUURN, LET IT BURN

Counting the last hours of his reign, Doxe Bonaccorso Spina takes to the great balcony of his Palace to address the masses:

”My people, my loved ones. Twenty-two years ago, I came before you, a man ruined: my son and my daughter taken from me. Is there any pain greater than burying your children? Only today: to see the blood of your blood and the blood of your nation, united against you. To know your nephew made weapon of a blade and your niece of her gold, and your people are indiscriminate in their arsenal. You tear down my doors, sirs! You bloody my halls! And when you stand against your Doxe, you stand against Taravast. And why? Because I turned my eye from you for scant moments. Spoiled! Shameless! All I ever intended were more years in your service. For we must strike a permanent truce with the dead. To survive. Know that even now, I see you: you are strong, gifted, beautiful. How it breaks my heart to know I must bury my children again.”
After this, Bonaccorso orders the 20 court witches of Bessis currently at the Palace rain down fire from the northern and southern towers, unto the masses.

■ Current Bessis leader Margherita Moretti is instructed to call her sister witches to Taravast’s greater walls, where they might direct further fire upon all who oppose Bonaccorso.

■ Ten witches will climb each Palace tower, targeting protesters. Sign up and discuss how characters can slip the witches sleeping herbs with their water, kill them, feign fresh orders from Moretti, etc.

■ The witches of Bessis have historically received the patronage of the imprisoned Macaluso. Many recently retreated from court, embittered by Bonaccorso’s support for the rival Attaryl. Moretti is reasonable, if loyal, and possesses a conscience. She rides out to bring further Bessis assistance.

■ Team up, pursue and capture Moretti down the chaotic streets of Taravast. Two characters — chosen on 10 December through RNG draw from the signed-up crew — can participate in a NPC thread to talk her down.

B. OFF WITH THE OLD MAN’S HEAD

Informed by Wrath and Wen Qing’s faction that her grandfather prepared to possess her body, Vannozza Spina moves to apprehend Bonaccorso.

Following his speech, the Doxe holes up in his quarters, guarded by several dozen Attaryl witches — masters of illusions, telekinesis and mind control. They will try to briefly steal or dim characters’ senses, thrall them into seeing their allies as enemies and crumble walls and statues upon them. The witches are easily defeated through physical means.

■ Characters can charge in militarily or infiltrate by presenting as palace staff or Attaryl reinforcements. Those who previously assisted servants can receive spare uniforms and directions. Sign up here.

■ In-game characters can vote until 15 December to decide Bonaccorso’s fate. Two characters drawn via RNG can share a NPC thread for a short discussion with him. Wen Qing and Wrath can optionally have a separate talk thread, given their participation in Vannozza’s plotline.

C. SAVE THE HIMBO, SAVE THE WORLD

Macaluso Spina’s attempt to persuade his Doxe grandfather of the merits of retirement condemned him to house arrest, awaiting trial on charges of assassination. He is secluded in his wing of the Palace of the Doxe, guarded by two dozens of Bonaccorso’s men and by illusion traps devised by Attaryl witches.

Characters can hear footsteps, men giving chase, the muffled voices of Macaluso or their companions, all unseen. A mirrored hall leads you back to its beginning, as your reflection mocks you — until you break a mirror.

■ Characters who have helped Palace servants can receive tips on guard numbers and locations, or corridor shortcuts.

■ Sign up here. Two characters picked via RNG draw on 10 December can share a NPC thread to discuss Macaluso’s next steps. Alina Starkov can have an optional separate thread, for her involvement in Macaluso’s plot so far.

Image source.

QUESTIONS

TEST DRIVERS

OLD TIMERS

Comments

NPC THREADS

[groundrules]

MORETTI

[groundrules]

Mistress Moretti is a tired thing, breathless, dressed in soot. She has ridden long — too long, down citadel streets so gutted and narrow — but she recovers the silent dignity to face her capture without any conceit of further protest. It is the way of the world.

When she is presented before Allison Hargreeves and Jon Snow, she does not threaten, does not curse, does not speak a word against her circumstances. Only, "You should kill me early. I can't pledge I won't do my duty, any more than you can pledge you won't do yours."

MORETTI QUEST | THE WITCHES OF BESSIS

[groundrules]

Up towers and down corridors, worn and fire-wielding. This was never their war, and their 'sisters' of the loathsome Attaryl have cleverly found themselves better positioned in Taravast's games of siege and storm. Still, the witches of Bessis call upon fire and truth and duty to support them in this, their wretched task.

Catch up with them as they take cover, assume position and prepare to raise their magic against demonstrators, or listen harshly to Bonaccorso Spina's discourse — and do your best to persuade them of a better path.


( ooc: if you'd like your character to influence one witch, tag in ICly to this comment. You will get a short npc thread with a witch......... of randomised and undisclosed temperament. Keep water close. )

BONACCORSO

[groundrules]

There is no sympathy in this world, little justice. They capture don Bonaccorso Spina, lion of Taravast, as if he were a rabid dog, brought to his knees. At Vannozza's behest, he remains unfettered, but guards watch each way of his bed chambers, and wards blink back glistened from every corner of his floors.

Drooped over his resting sofa, he seems adrift when his visitors are sent to produce his evening meal, barely recalling to lift his eyes. Then, carefully, "Despite everything, thank you."

BONACCORSO | WRATH

[groundrules]

There is a moment, when all has been said and done, and don Bonaccorso Spina faces the rags and charring ruins of his empires from his bedchamber balcony, when he seems —

Contented. As if whatever destruction Taravast witnesses is no more than its own due of ruin. As if it deserves no better for placing him in the hands of his niece Vannozza, who paces and takes the counsel of her close allies, as if she were a mouse and not a rattlesnake.

Bonaccorso only beholds the beauty of his dominion. Breathes in, while the crowds howl. And turns to Wrath, "You must think me a monster."

VANNOZZA

[groundrules]

She has fought well, for a woman that has made her wit a weapon, her resilience a virtue. Apprehending her uncle proved the lesser feat: to ruin and conquer is not the same as to rule, and even now, Vannoza Spina knows, others work to release Macaluso. Her cousin, her rival, her family.

Some part of her, a woman made small, pacing the chambers of the study before the rooms where she has locked her uncle, feels small. She has not required advice before, never trusted in it. Now, she sounds, to her own ear, childlike and sweet to excess, seeking foreign eyes, foreign compassion.

"What now...?"

zoya nazyalensky | grishaverse (book)

[groza]

[ ooc: leaning towards a mid row canon point, lemme know if you want to avoid ic or ooc spoilers c: ]

1. a friend in need

[ This is not Ravka; these are not her Grisha. She owes them no loyalty or compassion when they're in the same sort of unlucky circumstances Zoya will just grit her teeth and claw her way out of.

But Saints, some of them look so young...

Sharp eyes are unamused at whoever might be at her table spending more time pushing their food around than actually eating. She wields her fork like a dagger in threat.]

Eat.

[ Or don't, she's not your mom. ]

2. a friend in deed (a)

[ The desert can be as cruel as the seas, calm one moment and descending into merciless wrath the next. She cannot help it though, storms where sand cuts skin rather than the pierce of icy water are just her nature.

As the sandstorm thunders in, you should find shelter quickly, but the sky darkens quickly, disappearing as quickly as hope.

With such low visibility, it's almost like Zoya appears out of nowhere, slipping off her horse before it even stops completely, her hands in the air, flexed to bend the wind to her command. Her body and jaw tense and fierce as if she might try to grab the wind and wrench it to her will. But then it isn't a question of might, and her will does seem t push the gale forces further and further out until she's built an eerie dome as a shield from the storm. It almost feels as if there's a gentle breeze flowing around them, matching the now loose circle of her wrist.

She looks over her shoulder with a sharp eye, and then satisified that no one is dead, she turns back forward.

Oh? Did you think she was being kind? Best to nip that idea in the butt. She shakes her head, tousling silky, raven locks. ]

This weather's awful for my hair.

3. a friend in deed (b)

[ Zoya is not a chatty traveling companion. She usually stays icily silent with excellent posture. Any questions that she cannot totally ignore (and she is happy to ignore many) receive only the barest clipped answers.

Hours pass in silence with little to note until over the horizon appears a group of refugees begging for assistance. Sympathy turns quickly to suspicion. She's seen this before.

She holds out her hand to stop, giving her companion an appraising look. Then, almost exasperated she says: ]

Don't tell me you are so naive.

4. all together now

[ It is not in her nature to lay down. Men in power have been given too many free passes, and although this is not her fight, she will not run from it.

Once, twice, she looks over her shoulder. Are they afraid to act? Unsure. Her patience to figure out the reason for hesitation has long run out. ]

Oh for Saint's sake. Come. [ Try not to sound so annoyed than usual challenge. ] If you promise not to slow me down.

5. wildcard

[ ooc: ht me with something else or modify one of the above to fit better! i'm down for whatever. you can pm this journal if you want to plan it out a bit first too. ]

wildcard | on these rowdy streets

[downswing]

( White ash in the back of his mouth, coagulates. He breathes, and smells a city, burning.

Ahead, a child barely erupted from his swaddling opens his smiling mouth like an empty grave, his milk teeth blunt. They have taught him this, his parents, wherever they are, for no hand minds him: to raise burnt rags bound to a brittle stick and wave them, coiled and bending in the stale breeze, drenched in lamp oil. Earlier, this same street caught brief flame, before a rush of the guards and two buckets of canal silt stifled it dead — he is told, beggar's explosives, then, go back to the palace, for Lan Wangji still wears the marks of court that the imprisoned Macaluso Spina set in his hands, as if they were Wangji's bride price. For services never rendered.

His fists bind like wet knots. Hold. He does not know when he collects the child from the crowds that cram like tide and crest in song — half the verses drunken, the remainder mumbled, makeshift. Syncopated footsteps; they are surrounded by the animal stench of wait and cold sweat and bodies, milling. Adrift in his all-whites, Lan Wangji will attract attention. It is known — Lan Wangji names it known — and cannot say when, how, why he nevertheless dips in to collect the child before men of militia deploy horses to sunder the rabble.

( This, too, they have done before. To cleanse the roads of the palace. )

Fools. This mob is no quarry, waiting. For days, they've flocked like pigeons on a pittance of grains, drink thick in their anger-thinned blood. To Lan Wangji's right, a man is trampled under hooves, a woman shrieks the instruction, and the crowd descends —

"Roads without fear, roads without strife
Roads where the dead don't rise to run rife
You tell your children, you tell your wife
You win back their city
Or you put it to knife!"

— and they sing, always sing, in a cacophony of weapons startled into discharge. Wangji's skin pebbles, aches tight with the affectionate, poisonous electricity of magic recently weaponised in combat. There are sorcerers in the midst of the gaggle, this he knows. Saw them, with yesterday's dawns, when they called low-lying waters from beneath a bridge's belly, to drown guardsmen. And who was Lan Wangji to prevent it then? Only aghast — paralysed, then as now, until the child in his arms stirs and wails and reaches a hand before him, and Lan Wangji moves before the crowds can marry again, before the streets can clog — hisses, when the child's sleeves scratch his cheek with coarse linen.

Finery concedes to battery. His skin reddens. He does not beg the boy still. When tears swell, and the child hardly knows his words — all Lan Wangji can do is deliver him, barely balanced on his hip like a basket for the market, to where he points. A woman, angered. Fighting — herself, or another, he cannot say, does not accuse. Only rasps, voice bruised from the run: )

You are his mother?

( ...no. Watch her. It is only midday, see her well. She is not. Look at the smooth line of her cheek, at how age has spared her. She is a woman unhindered by the petty cruelties that intense poverty inflicts on beauty. No sun's pox, no skin like withered parchment, no hair thin as straws. None of the marks that the child in Lan Wangji's arms, deprived of too many meals already, threatens to grow into. Still, the boy wails, flails both arms at her once more, and Lan Wangji sees now, sees and paralyses.

Her dress. The child's flag, abandoned behind them. They share a likeness of colour. This is the boy's true wish, to have his toy returned — and if not it, then this woman.

Of course. )

Ken Kaneki || Tokyo Ghoul

[enucleation]

[ kaneki's canon comes with a lot of content warning. please check my opt-out post since it might be important to some people. ]

TDM TOURIST: A.

[ It's one thing after the other in kaneki's life; everything happens so much. And when he finally makes a decision and when he finally decides to kind of redo his life, then world/dimension-travelling happens and everything goes to hell again. And of course he wasn't happy about any of this.

Confused at first, kaneki is like a wild animal who doesn't want to be touched. His head is heavy and he can't make sense of things, but his ghoul abilities are also not working properly and that sends him spiraling a little. Was he captured and given something? He knows it's possible to render ghouls weak but he never experienced it himself. Whoever approaches might be met with a weak grunt and a weak attempt at pushing them back ] I will... break your hands... [ oh, how charming. Even though he says that, right now he can't even stand.

After recovering, he will be aiding others in the same situation, mostly out of shame for his own reactions when he arrived. He is surprisingly nice compared to that first time too, offering a hand to whoever needed, sharing food (that he never eats himself) and making sure everyone is also drinking water (stay!! hydrated!!). ] You will feel better if you have some food. [ he says that offering the single bowl he carries, and afterwards remains nearby to make sure they are okay. He may help cooking too, but don't ask him to taste the food, please.

And naturally, he will help fight off any sort of strange fauna that decides to approach. Thanks to his ghoul strength, he doesn't even need to use his more... strange... abilities, and easily can kill those scorpions by using his his fits. It's not pretty, but does the job. ]

TDM TOURIST: B.

[ If anyone is paying attention, they might notice a couple of things about Kaneki: he looks like he hasn't slept in years and he only sleeps a couple of hours at best, and he has not touched one single piece of food ever since he arrived. He is also quick to disappear for a hour or two and then returns tense and somewhat... impatient. While others do not share his worry (of course they don't, they are not cannibals who go crazy if they get hungry), kaneki has realized this journey may take long and he will need a source of food. He tries not to think about it, but if this lasts longer than a month, then Kaneki's worry will become everyone's worry. Hungry cannibals are bad and you should not keep them around.

At least sand storms keep his mind busy and off the whole food topic. So do the supposed refugees. While most would be suspicious, kaneki is not - he approaches them, offers them water and some food (not coin, though. Kaneki doesn't have any on himself). Honestly? If they do try to rob him, they are going to regret it, and that's why Kaneki has no qualms helping. Plus, it might be someone truly in need ]

ALL TOGETHER NOW

[ Kaneki's worries about food dissipate quickly after arriving to Taravast because there is plenty of it to go around. A necromancer might have one or two of their revived corpses disappear and Kaneki's empty bag is now not so empty. He also no longer looks like he is about to keel over and he even made friends with some of the necromancers, weirdly enough (hooray for creepy dead-loving people).

While he doesn't want to have any part in deciding what will happen to the tyrant (he wasn't here from the start, after all, and Kaneki realizes he doesn't know a whole lot), he agrees to at least scout the Palace. Given his ability to be fast and silent, it's relatively easy for him but he knows others might join him in this endeavor and he is willing to work with them ] I will need something to cover my head. [ he has white-snow hair, which is easy to spot. ]

WILDCARD

[ Go ahead, I'm pretty flexible with the prompts! ]

all together now | time to do our textile best

[downswing]

( The tyrant, watching, waiting, and — burn them, burn them all — biding his time. Bonaccorso Spina has holed himself like prey, awaiting the hunter, so he might turn and hiss and snap and bear fangs at the first deep scent of his pursuers. There's a bloodied bite to the old man — blink, and he'll wear the faces of Jin Guangyao, Wen Ruohan.

No matter. Their group is apprehend him, to escalate, to infiltrate his castle. Maraud, aimless down garden paths saturated by time-honoured, borrowed glory. Lan Wangji's soles batter a waste of marble, dulled without fresh polish. The way of aged things — that every sliver of artifice should need twice, thrice the maintenance of a younger artefact. And who spares coin and energy to manicure pavement? Under Wangji's narrowed gaze, clusters of rose and magnolia twine in a clingy, callous brotherhood. He thinks — withdraws his hand just before he might spark bleeding — to snag a thorn. Superstition: decide your first injury, before the enemy might choose it for you.

No matter (he has thought so, before; beneath a sky greyed by the soot of distant explosives, he is prone to distraction). The boy — it is a boy, they are always, before their first war, children — assigned to accompany him concedes the inevitability of his natural... disadvantage. To first look at him, Lan Wangji had suspected — a ghost. Ghost-touched. Perhaps, if old superstitions are to be believed, the son of a mother who plucked his first silvered hair, only to invite the jealous sun to pale the rest of his head. Lan Wangji did not retain a name. For how they wait to inject themselves in the clever interstices of the palace, prone to capture and interrogation, perhaps there is merit in social apathy. But then they drift, each to their trouble: Lan Wangji, in blitzed study of the walls, knowing well — too well — he can compensate in climbing ability, what he cannot pretend in theatric subtlety. And the boy, in awe of his hair.

Trapped outside, between milling rounds of hard-stepping guardsmen, greenery rustling every time they advance, Lan Wangji finds himself — troubled by the lack of solutions. Only, with a nod at the baskets slipped by the canal-side, abandoned earlier by palace maids that were rushed inside by infantry — )

The curtains.

( Golden, with filigree. A design of... a horse, a bare maid and a twisted peony. Lan Wangji's gaze dances ambiguously from the depressing heft of the velvets to the span of his swords, calculating the effort of precision required to unravel the weave thoughtlessly.

The next sigh might as well cleave his lungs. )

Bring them.

( Time for an incompetent man with a great old sword to sew this boy a hat. )

Daenerys Targaryen | A Song of Ice and Fire | Old Timer

[thebrideoffire]

I. Halls of Healing

[The masses gathered as Dany expected them to, tension in the citadel rising to suffocating levels. First came the shouts, then the stones, and then the fire spells. Anyone leaving or entering was accosted. The situation would only grow more dangerous unless something was done.

Her first attempt to speak with the crowd resulted in several rocks being thrown at her, one breaking the skin of her forehead. When she stood again, Drogon was flying at her back, lending her strength and courage to face the mob.]

Your needs are legitimate! Your complaints are legitimate! The care of the citadel has not been addressed and it should be. Violence will only bring more violence and many here support you! You have seen us in the city, working and living alongside you. We are not your enemy, we are not the target of your rage. Don't injure those that only wish you well.

Go home before force is used. Don't leave your family without a father, mother or child! This will only lead to death and further pain for the city! Go home...or if you have no home, come to the Halls of Healing. There is a place for you. Warm food and a bed.

[One by one, a portion of the crowd broke away and, humbled, returned to their home. Others gathered around Dany, reaching to touch her (and if Drogon allowed, him). Some pleaded for food, others for a place to sleep.

It was only when an old man held out a turnip in apology that Dany felt the trickle of blood against her cheek. To whoever might have come out to join her or help, she'll turn to them:]

You don't have something for this, do you? [She pointed to the wound on her forehead.] Never mind, help me lead them to the Healing Halls. We need to hurry before others turn violent.


II. To the Towers!

[It was clear from the speech that Bonaccorso meant to punish the civilians brutally. The "how" was less clear to Dany, still unaccustomed to think of magic in every day use. Eventually, word trickled back that the witches of the court of Bessis were being gathered for some purpose. It was the towers that they would attack from and the towers they meant to defend.

Soon, there would be fire and hundreds of civilians dead or injured. Dany was quick to move to the court, Drogon at her back, to try and stop whatever was coming. The method...that was less clear.]

Should we subdue or kill them? Subdue might take too much time, but it will spare their lives. Killing them, it could lead to worse retaliation.

We need a clear strategy!

III. Network: un:stormborn (video)

[There's activity in the background. Chaos, screaming, the sounds of a revolution in full culmination. In the midst of it all, Dany is calm, careful not to let others knock into her during their panic. Every now and then, she murmurs directions off camera, urging people to follow them.]

When there's revolution and upheaval, there's always violence. Not everyone in this citadel is prepared to fight or wishes to. The innocents, the women and children, the injured and sick, please bring them to the Healing Halls. I have a refuge set up for those that need protection and a place to wait out the storm.

If you see anyone that wishes for safe haven, please direct them to me. They shouldn't be out during all of this.

[foxable]

[ For all the rocks that had been thrown at Dany, it seemed like no one even noticed Fox was there - despite him standing a little ways off from her (and out of the way of the dragon). His magical hoodie pulled up over his head, the eyes of the mob just slid over him, ignoring him as thoroughly as they would a blank wall. It was just the way he liked it.

And then there was Dany. Front and center, with a - with a dragon. It was kind of impressive, watching her speak to the crowd, but the anxious knot in his chest didn't abate until most of them dispersed.

He slowly lowered his hood as Dany turned towards him, allowing himself to be visible once more, the stealth magic no longer automatically averting eyes. His brows were pinched and his expression solemn, but he startled a little when he noticed the blood and then that stoic countenance was immediately broken. Instead, there stood a fumbling nerd trying to desperately go through too-many-pockets to find what he was asked for. ]

Ah-- I do! No, don't never mind - what, you're just going to lead people through the streets bleeding? We'll leave in a minute, hold on a sec--

[ Finally, he managed to fumble out a wad of little candies that he had enchanted, and handed her a small honey drop wrapped in white wax paper. ]

Um, still working on the spell, so it might not taste amazing, but it'll heal up your forehead in a few seconds if you suck on it.

Yan Zhengming | Liu Yao

[xinmoline]

A. Waking up is hard to do

GAAAAAAAAAAAA!

[ Is someone being murdered or writhing in excruciating pain? One might think so, except the man responsible for this scream seems extremely lively, launching himself out of the oasis waters and stumbling to shore.

Grimacing, he gasps: ]

Bathing...with other people!

[ He's a tall man, clad in sumptuous snow white robes–or at least, what were snow white robes. Now they're smeared in mud. It takes a moment for him to notice this, but when he does, he looks down at himself in disbelief, lifting up his long sleeves to drip pathetically for a while, until he lets them fall. He takes a few hesitant steps back to the water's edge and gazes at his reflection, to find that his face and hair are just as dirty as his robes. He stares for a long moment, like some kind of horrified narcissus. Finally, he tears his gaze away, apparently unable to stand the sight of himself (this is a first).

He lifts his hand and hurriedly makes a seal. A small flash of gold light bursts from his fingertips—but that's about it. Nothing else happens. He tries again, with the same effect. He clutches his head with his hands. ]

How... how can I live like this!

[ He pulls his hands from his head and looks at them. Now they're muddy too! ]

AAAAH!

B. Hospitality

No.

[ This is Yan Zhengming's friendly greeting to anyone who pokes their head in his tent. Doesn't matter what you tell him, he's not sharing! ]

C. Showing off, I mean, training

[ Meditation hasn't been too productive in terms of restoring his cultivation to its full power, mainly because of all the incessant chatter in camp. Physical training might be better for him, at this point.

Thus he's outside in the heat of the day, swinging a jewel-encrusted sword with a chip in the blade, going through a series of sword forms over and over again. One small comfort is that he's got his clothing spells working again, so he's appropriately attired now, head to toe in blinding white, spotless from his hair ribbon to his boots. Though he looks every bit the spoiled young master, his sword movements are precise and disciplined, clearly the result of long training. ]

Watch out!

[ It's a scolding tone, as he leaps over past a fellow newcomer (you!), to plunge his sword into a nearby snake, rearing up and ready to strike. ]

Pay attention!

D. Getting sand out of white silk is impossible

[ Ordinarily he wouldn't care about another city's civil uprising, but anything's got to be better than camp life. If he were more sure of his abilities he'd brush off the offer of horses and fly on his sword. Eighty years ago, he might have insisted on it. But those long decades of poverty, striving, and his own contemptible powerlessness have taught him not to be too sure of his abilities.

This was a wise choice, he realizes, as the sandstorm rises up around them. He can fully devote his powers to his sword aura, protecting himself and his horse from the stinging sand. He'll extend his aura to protect anyone nearby who seems to be struggling. This kindness comes at a cost, however: ]

Where are you wandering? It's called "riding a horse," not just letting it take you where it will. Tch! Just toss me the reins, I'll lead you!

E. On second thought, let's not go to Camelot

[ While everyone is gathered in the warehouse seriously discussing the fate of Taravast, one (1) Yan Zhengming is standing off to the side with his nose wrinkled in disgust, muttering: ]

Ugh, what is this place?

F. Money-grubbing young master

[ Having quickly determined that he has exactly zero interest in participating in whatever the various factions in this city wish to accomplish, Yan Zhengming turns his mind to much more important tasks, that is to say: making money. A bit of haggling and a small outlay of cash has allowed him to build up an inventory of old lanterns, cups, and teapots, that he polished up and engraved with simple charms. Now he takes advantage of the large crowds milling about near the palace, pushing a cart to hawk his various wares. ]

Cups that cool your tea! Pots that heat water! Lanterns that always burn and never dim. Everything's in limited quantities, available only for a short—HEY!

[ Just then, somebody in the castle above decides to RAIN FIRE on his little business, making all his teapots explode. The fuck?! ]

E.

[paperbutterflies]

[ Sizhui is leaving the discussion to his seniors mostly, since should Hanguang-jun and senior Wei begin arguing, he would... not rather listen too closely, so he approaches the white-robed cultivator with the usual gentle expression. ]

Senior, this is not the best of the citadel, as it is in a time of unrest and struggle. I hope that its inhabitants can come to an agreement and you get to thee the nicer parts of it. It is called Taravast.

allison hargreeves | the umbrella academy | old timer

[rumorate]

i. the streets, rallying ~ ota

[She's been on the streets during protests before. She's been swept up in mobs and knocked to the side in the chaos of people trying to escape the boots of their oppressors. Being in Taravast now reminds her of being in Dallas in the sixties, though the lower classes seem to be a lot more unified than the people of Dallas were in the favor of the black populace.

And honestly, good for Taravast. Their people deserve to rise up against the people who haven't been treating them well. The problem is, with an uprising like this, people tend to get hurt.

Allison can't save them all. Even with her ability, she's only one person. But in times like this, she can't sit still and do nothing. So when she sees a guard that's on the verge of going too far and hurting a protester, she sneaks up from the side, places a hand on their arm and whispers, quickly:]

I heard a rumor that you walked away. You won't remember this conversation.

[Maybe she did it for you. Maybe she did it for someone else and you just happened to witness it, and her slipping the would-be victim away and back into the crowd. Either way, the guard does as he's told, walking away from the situation, and not coming back to continue what they started.

And that is likely very suspicious.]

ii. rise one, rise all ~ closed to lily evans, but ota to witnesses to find her after

[She and Lily had been out on the streets, trying to help where they could when things started to get really bad. People were getting knocked to the ground, trampled by members of both sides. Allison keeps a tight hold on her friend's arm, trying to keep her close and not lose her in the crowd.

Eventually they manage to duck into an alley as the people press past them and Allison knows she needs to do something. But there's too many people, and she doesn't know if she can amplify her voice loud enough for all of them to hear her.

She glances over to her friend, and pinches her eyes closed because helping makes Lily complicit in what she's about to do, but she doesn't see another choice.]

Can you ... is there a way that you could amplify my voice?

[It's worth asking.]

iii. let it burn ~ ota

[Stopping the witches is something Allison can do.

Trading in her elaborate dresses for clothes that are easier to move in, she takes off for the nearest power and tries to get the drop on as many witches as she can. Some, she's sneaky enough to knock out while they're distracted or putting her hand-to-hand skills to use with any guards who might be assigned to protect them.

However, when it comes to the witches, sometimes the most efficient route is the best one. There are several rumoring options you might here from her in this adventure:]

I heard a rumor you went to sleep.

[Or:]

I heard a rumor you passed out.

[Or, when she's feeling really vindictive, or a witch has particularlly irritated her:]

I heard a rumor you forgot how to do magic.

[And whoever's with her can watch as their eyes cloud over white, for a moment, and then it happens, exactly as she said.

That's not terrifying at all.]

iv. wildcard

[Feel free to set up your own scenario or ping me at iluvroadrunner6. Please review Allison's permissions post if you have any questions.]

i.

[chosenbylight]

[Anduin is, for lack of a better word, a pacifist. Ironic since he has led armies into more than a few battles at this point, though he did not exactly have a choice at the time. He still isn't certain that he should be here, in the midst of the chaos, but there is a difference between doing harm and doing nothing. And he is a priest, after all. He does not need to take a weapon up against the enemy to aid his fellow man.

He's in the crowd during the riot as well. And -- well, is it cheating exactly if he's using magic himself, stepping in here and there to Soothe the worst of them into a calmer state of mind. The whole atmosphere makes him uncomfortable, like a bubble about to burst, but he's trying hard not to think about all the ways that it could go wrong. One step at a time.

He spots the man at the same time that she does. The moment when it all might go wrong. He's about to reach out with his own magic when he spots the woman walking up to the guard in question, and just like that -- the situation is under control.

Anduin lessens his stride to a walk, blinking at her in surprise as he watches the man walk away.]

That guard...

xiao xingchen | mo dao zu shi | old and tired of this shit

[binghua]

1. easy targets - CW: attempted kidnapping

[This place isn't safe. It hasn't really been safe for some time. Xiao Xingchen has managed to stay out of trouble for the most part, despite all the events leading up to this revolution, but it's all destined to catch up to him sooner or later.

And as he (foolishly) leaves the palace only to be almost immediately apprehended by a small group of men is any indication, it's definitely sooner. They drag him a short way to what he suspects is an alley or some darker area. The noise of the city as a whole makes it difficult for Xingchen to point out specifics - and is probably a factor in his getting surprised in the first place - but at least one man holds his wrists hard in front of him while another at his back has an arm around his neck, hopefully more as a threat than a real danger.]

His sword! Get his sword!

[Someone else starts to tug at Shuanghua tied to his back. That's...that's not ideal. Xingchen doesn't want to use violence on these people, but neither does he particularly want to be parted from his weapon.]

Please don't do that.

[Laughter answers him and the tugging continues. Xingchen can feel the sword's connection to him buzz anxiously, but one of his current kidnappers talks right over it, completely unaware of the distress.]

Why not? You're living in the lap of luxury. You don't need it. We do. Now be a good boy and shut up and be of some use. We just want to talk to the old bastard, that's all.

[Ah. A hostage. It could be worse.

The person manhandling Shuanghua finally tugs the sword free with a triumphant yell.

...It's worse.

The man with an arm around Xingchen's neck is close. He can feel his hot breath against his hair, his neck. So. He leans his head forward - his captors take it as a sign of obedience and add to the cheering - but then snaps it up, the back of his head colliding with the front of the other man's with a resounding crack.

Everyone is stunned for a moment, even Xingchen, but he tries to tug himself free while he has a chance.

He could really use a hand, though, or at least make sure he gets his sword back. One of these might be of higher importance to him.]


2. gentle hands

[Despite the danger to which Xingchen knows he subjects himself, there are still people in the city who are suffering from the unrest. Of course, everyone is suffering, but some more than others.

Earlier, he's stumbled upon a terrified family who just needs some food for at least the next few days, but with a few children, no one dares risk the streets. So, Xingchen finds himself in possession of not an insubstantial amount of coin and a mission to help at least this one family.

It's an easy task to accept. It's the sort of thing he's always wanted to do.

But he doesn't have a great history of not getting pickpocketed and neither he, nor this family, can afford to fall victim to such crime right now. Sensing someone ahead, someone he hopes isn't ill-favored, he calls out to them.]

Friend, I hope you can spare some time or a keen pair of eyes, at least.

[He knows exactly where he's lacking. There's no time to beat around the bush.]


3. house of wares

[It's obvious that Bonaccorso should be relieved of his duty to Taravast. It's been obvious. Still, Xingchen isn't sure if planning an assault on the palace is exactly what needs to be done, though he's also sure no one would really listen to him at this point. It seems most people in the city have been swept up in the fervor of chaos.

But the warehouse being used by Zanardo and Bianchi is possibly one of the safer places to be in this city, so Xingchen makes his way there. While others may be more excited for the next day's plans, Xingchen can instead be found off by himself, blanketed in his outer robe as he tries to get any kind of rest he can.]


4. wildcard

[Drag this boy into whatever shenanigans are required of him! You know the drill.]

hands (1/3)

[xinmoline]

[ Deeply suspicious of the Merchant and his motives, and not understanding the political situation well, Yan Zhengming has made the reasonable decision to just stay out of everything altogether, and just focus on his talents, to wit: making money.

So when he's accosted, his reflex reaction is to snap: ]

No, I don't have time —

TDM Tourist: Karla, Queen of Glacia | Black Jewels | CW: All

[kiss_kiss]

(Spoiler warnings for as far as the Cassidy books)

A friend in Need

From the moment Karla woke up, the woman had snapped invisible magical shields around herself. To those who can sense magic... she has a lot of it. To those sensitive to Light and Dark in whatever form... she's Dark. Very.

To everyone else? The woman looks like she is in her late thirties, maybe early forties, despite being ten years younger than that. Her face is lined and drawn, the face of someone who had suffered. But there was ice in her sharp blue eyes. Ice and at least to start, no kindness.

Her hair was ice white and sculpted into peaks above her ice white brows. Between that and her pale skin and sharp angular features, her eyes looked all the more fierce.

Her outfit was simple in design, but expensive in quality. Silk sapphire shirt with grey pants, practical but nice sapphire blue boots. But the pants and boots can't quite hide the ruined waste that once had been her legs. She had with her two canes that were designed to close around her upper arms when she wanted them to, so she could lean on them without holding the projecting grips.

Around her neck she wore two necklaces. One was a brilliant Jewel of some sort. Grey. The setting was lovely but strong. Nothing delicate about it. On a separate chain just above that Jewel hung an hourglass pendant, all the dust in the bottom half of the glass. In her world, both necklaces served as warnings to those around her about the sort of witch she was. A Black Widow who wore the Grey. On her finger was another piece of jewelry. A delicate looking gold and white cold ring set with a sapphire. It was perhaps the only delicate and graceful looking thing about her.

When she first woke, she had wrapped those invisible shields around herself in layers. No one could touch her without her consent, though they could get so close as to not notice the difference. If she let them. She wasn't inclined to do so. Until she found someone injured, or who wasn't waking from their arrival. Then she knelt beside them. She kept her shields up, but removed them from her fingertips so she could do healing, kneeling beside the person despite the pain in her legs. Whenever she healed, the grey Jewel seemed to flash.

When it came to other tasks, she would do most of them if not stopped. She would offer to do night watch to avoid sharing a tent. She would cook, glaring at anyone she thought might hint that she couldn't/ But the fighting... ah the fighting.

She looked breakable, with those legs. She looked older than she was. The canes might make her seem infirm. But when a giant scorpion attacked, she didn't waste time debating or considering. "GET BEHIND ME!" she snapped, ice and steal in her voice. "STAY BACK" She threw a shield behind herself at the level of the Sapphire. Anyone else who was Blood and was strong enough to pass that barrier she'd accept at her side. She flooded her body with magic, using that to stand as her canes vanished to be replaced with a long bladed stick. She yelled something unmistakably rude in any language as she swing the stick through the air, sending a blast of power through the beast. A cold smile curled her lips as it became clear that had hurt it.

IT rushed at her, and she poured magic into her blade as she sliced it through one claw as she dodged the other. That tail was coming for her... she trusted her shields to keep it from making contact, not thinking about the fact that some people here might not realize she was protected. Might think she was in danger....


A friend in deed

"*****S FIRE NO!" was her response when it was made clear to her she was supposed to choose a side in a civil uprising. "Mother Night, how stupid do you think I am?!" She shook her head, leaning against her canes heavily, eyes glaring. She didn't know nearly enough to get involved. She refused. Hi, welcome to a new world, you're in danger every second now come help in this war? Nope. Uncle Saetan taught her better than that.

Also, you know, her personal situation made her look into betrayals differently.

"I'll heal the injured who are night fighting. Until I know more or my Queen commands it," says a Queen, "that will be all. And if you don't like it..." well her suggestion to the poor, probably male, messenger was pithy, to the point, and possibly not physically possible.

anduin wrynn | warcraft | test drive tourist

[chosenbylight]

A FRIEND IN NEED
A. [Anduin can successfully say, as he struggles into consciousness, half-in, half-out of what feels like a warm bath, that he has absolutely no idea where he is. He can at least successfully determine that it is not a bath, as he is fairly certain he would not be taking one in full uniform.

It takes him a moment to gather himself before he heaves up out of the lagoon and onto the sand. How has he found himself here? Where is here, for that matter? Uldum? No, that can't be right. Zandalar? He's never set foot on the Troll island, he doesn't suppose that he would recognize the place at once simply from the descriptions in missives.

A shape rises in the distance and Anduin raises a very wet and very heavy arm to shield his eyes against the sun, trying to determine whether he is about to need to defend himself or not.]

B. [It takes some getting used to. The idea that he has not simply been stolen through a portal to another land, but another world. He supposes that he's heard of stranger things happening, though it troubles Anduin, the idea that if he is here, then -- what is happening back in Stormwind?

He tries not to think about it too hard. There is a council for a reason, and he knows there are good people on it. The Kingdom mourned the loss of his father, but they did not fall apart. The same will be true of his own disappearance. They are not at war, with a tenuous peace between the Horde and the Alliance and Sylvanas in hiding... If ever there were a time to go missing, he supposes it should be now.

And there are ways that he can assist here. Approaching a figure huddled on the edge of the fire with a bowl of warm soup in hand, Anduin asks gently:]

How are you feeling?

A FRIEND IN DEED
[Anduin is no stranger to spending time on a horse, and though this steed is not Reverence, not by a long shot, they are sturdy and calm and they plod along with the rest of the pack without Anduin needing to give much in the way of guidance at all.

It's just as well, for the weather seems to be far from steady itself. The first sign is a gentle wind, though the horses seem to know what's about, for they begin to shy. Anduin looks around for some sign of danger -- bandits? More of those cougars they'd run into back along the road? No sign of any of those. But there is a dark, roiling cloud in the distance of what looks like smoke but is too light for that, and what he had thought was a haze in the air he now realizes with a certain grittiness in his mouth is sand.

A sandstorm. Well. They certainly did not have anything like this in Stormwind.

Anduin gathers his horse's reigns and turns to his nearest companion, not wanting to create mass chaos by shouting to the group at large -- not certain his words would even carry across the sound of the wind -- but from what he understands they have precious little time now.]

Do you have a scarf, or -- some sort of cloth? You'll need to cover your face! [He will need to cover his face for that matter. He supposes a spell might work but, how long do these storms last, exactly?]

RISE ONE, RISE ALL
[Anduin understands that they have been guided here to bolster the numbers of those already in stationed in the city. He's learned that this Bonaccorso certainly doesn't sound like a man to leave in a position of power, certainly not if he treats his people the way they have said. All the same, he doesn't exactly have a good feeling about all of this.

He frowns down at a cup of some drink or another that has been thrust into his hands, listening to the sounds of merrymaking in the background. The whole scene feels -- oddly familiar, really, and not entirely in a pleasant way. The calm of the night before the advance. He may not be making the decisions in this instance, but that does not mean he is blameless on the whole. Nor does he feel that sitting the assault out is an option, not when the people of this town do have a cause worth defending. But at what cost...?

He frowns harder.]

WILDCARD
((ooc: feel free to comment with something else if you have something else in mind! anduin will be taking more of a pacifistic approach to the uprise so he'd be happy to help there, or he can heal anyone that might come back with any injuries! feel free to pm me if you want to chat as well!!))

> RISE ONE, RISE ALL

[blackscales]

[ This is not going to end well for any of them, Wrathion is sure of that much.

He's dressed down into his best attempt at blending in, swathes of dark fabric hiding his figure and his more expensive accessories.

Still, it does nothing to disguise his bright red eyes.

Across the room from Anduin, Wrathion is locked in conversation with a small group. He rubs his beard thoughtfully, eyes flitting to the floor every so often as he listens to them. His voice, though, is distinctive: over the crowd, every so often, his answers can be just about made out. ]

Macaluso cannot be the cause. Even now, imprisoned, the chaos continues. Left to this fate, whatever he knows may die with him.

[ There's a murmur from the small crowd around him. One of them appears to be leaning on a harpoon. Wrathion himself is trying not to think too hard about what this man intends to do with the harpoon. He speaks up again: ]

No, he'll be well guarded. A distraction to draw away some of the guards would give us an opportunity to try and extract him more... carefully. A disguise may be worth looking into. We'll need more people, too.

[ The crowd exchange glances, thoughtful, then nod. Wrathion turns, picking up a mug and taking a sip. ]

See what you can find. I'll be here.

[ He moves to lean up against one wall, moving his mug to another hand and digging through his pockets as he thinks and the small crowd splits away in groups. ]

Vaarsuvius | Order Of The Stick | Warnings for spoilers and violence.

[gender_neutral]

A FRIEND IN NEED

"V be ready to blast whatever inevitably jumps out at us in here..."

Those were the last words V heard, projected mind to mind, as V crossed the threshold and wound up....

Wet. Sitting in a puddle of shallow water. V floated up, dripping and shedding water. Unmatched dark eyes scanned the area, trying to get the nature of the trap. A thought to the others failed. So either V was out of range or Dispel Magic had been cast. As V was flying and clearly not where the rest of the party was, the conclusion seemed obvious. That left the questions of if the bad guys were also here, and... how to get back.

V decided to cast a spell that would help answer at least one of those potentially, but nothing happened. "Nat 1...?" V muttered and tried again. Nothing. V sat crosslegged in the air, trying to figure out what had happened. But thinking was oddly hard for once. Was this what it was like to be Elan? Terrible thought.

Oh.

Oh.

Not thinking. Thinking wasn't the difficulty. Focus was. V had blown the concentration checks needed for the spell. That made sense. Probably an after effect of whatever homebrew spell had split the party like this. Cast by whoever used Charm Person on Elan to make the bard chase after his musical instrument. Likely. Though the possibility remained that it had something to do with the instability of the locale itself.

Much to ponder and little of it of help at this moment.

V's Fly spell held because it was cast before whatever was botching concentration checks, but new spells at any level sufficient to have value required more concentration than V was apparently capable of at the moment. The Elf would like words with whoever crafted this metamagic tweak into their spell. Well, maybe one word. That took up four pages in a spell book inexplicably.

Right. Focus, V.

Not that that was terribly possible at the moment. V considered a bluff, ordering whoever had split the party to return them all to the caverns, but V had a low charisma score. It wouldn't have been a bluff if quickened lightning bolt was accessible, but with all checks being botched... V was a very squishy little wizard. Well, there was always Feather Fall if Fly failed, at least.

OH!

"Blackwing!"

The small black bird popped into being with a happy sound. "I exist in this comic again?! Whoa! Where are we?"

"I am unable to ascertain that at this precise moment. There appears to be an after effect of the translocation that has rendered me unable to concentrate."

"Must be how it feels to be the Bard, huh?" the bird asked.

"Precisely. I almost feel moved to pity if this malaise is one that is commonly experienced. That aside, however, I want to ascertain if you are able to focus as well as usual."

"Oh, sure!" the bird said. "So I should demonstrate that I can stay on a single task mentally as well as I ever co... SHINY!" the bird yelled, diving after something on the ground.

"In hindsight... I see the failure inherent in this plan."


When it came time for the chores, V proved... useless. V claimed no ability with cooking and "Besides, we never bother food unless it feeds the plot. If no one has anything to do, we can just skip to the morning."

Likewise, V didn't take a shift on watch. "I must trance if you wish me to resume warping the laws of physics to suit our needs once this abhorrent malaise has reached the end of its duration."

"Look, sorry," the black bird would appologize to people. "My elf is still working on that whole... social mores thing.... You know what would help? A shiny. Do you happen to have any?"


A FRIEND IN DEED

"This side story again? Didn't we already do this one? With the worm and the spice and the unnecessary fourth wall breaking cultural references that we all pretended not to understand? Why are we crossing a desert again?" Oh very well, at least the last time the party wound up reunited. Perhaps it shall happen again.

But the plus side was that with V being able to think again, the mage was suddenly useful. Very. V was a high level D&D wizard main character. The cougars were a decent challenge, but not one V was too concerned while fighting. "At least these have a sufficient challenge rating to earn XP."


(And yes, V is a stick figure. Whyever do you ask?)

(old timer) hermione granger ¦ harry potter

[reparo]

i. the streets, rallying

[At this point, she carries all her belongings in the travel bag, strap crossed over her chest underneath the heavy woolen cloak she wears; all the potions she has managed to brew, in the case they become useful; all her writings and books, all her clothes, the spare wand, food snatched from the kitchens when they still liked magic-casters in the Palace, and a bunch of those corsets that the Merchant's people made her pretend to be good at making for two whole months, just in case she ever gets to indulge in the petty act of incinerating them in public.

The hospitality of Vannozza isn't something that Hermione could claim to have felt, but the dissent in the past few weeks alone has lead to enough tensions that she knows she won't be welcomed in the Palace longer.

When she leaves, it's not through the gates. She's taken to Apparating, in the tucked away alleyways she's seen thanks to Sizhui, or the spots she discovered when the lower parts of the city were frozen by a magical snow storm. One moment, the spot will be empty, and the next - wham! - Hermione will be standing there, only stumbling a little. (She prepares for them, but it's still remarkably unpleasant.)

But when she does so this time, around the corner of her alleyway, she hears a scuffle. She grits her teeth, and grabs her wand tighter, and walks to peak - finding a couple of guards attempting to roughen someone up.]

ii. rise one, rise all - bianchi & zanardo's party edition

[This is almost familiar. The silence before the storm. Whatever tomorrow brings, and it will bring a lot of mess, Hermione knows that things will change. Thank Merlin for that - it's about time things changed, for Taravast, and for all of them, too - most especially, it's about time things changed for the citizens of this land.

The people gathered in the warehouse tonight are both familiar and unfamiliar. There are those whom she's fought with, there are those she imagines the Merchant brought here to fight with them now.

Armed with two mugs of hot tea, she approaches one person, trying to muster up a smile.] Here - take this. It should help with the cold, and maybe the smell of fish. [It's peppermint, she has a lot of bundles of it in the little travel bag she carries around.]

[ooc: I tried to leave both options open-ended enough, since they are open to all. bring your own prompt is highly encouraged as well - next week might be a toughie for me but I am going to try to tag as often as I can!]

ii

[blackscales]

[ Wrathion has been leaned over a small notebook, his waves of dark curls falling in slightly more disarray than usual as he flicks through his notes and annotates things quickly. The pages are covered in a mixture of sketches, a runic language of some sort, and floorplans and maps -- of areas of Taravast and sections of the Palace of the Doxe he managed to get himself into before they were unceremoniously ejected.

He looks up, glowing red eyes fixing on her, and blinks once before taking it. His voice low, well spoken, but he seems slightly hesitant -- as if the gesture has caught him slightly off guard. ]

Ah. Yes, the smell is quite strong.

[ He flickers a frown, as if now properly processing that, then slides the mug toward himself and visibly rallies -- something that may have worked better if it weren't done so quickly and visibly. ]

Enjoying the celebrations?

[ Some people certainly are -- his eyes slide away and narrow curiously on some particularly enthusiastic dancing. ]

Wrench | WATCH_DOGS | Old Timer

[in_theworks]

I. THE STREETS, RALLYING_

[Wrench is quick to join the protesters, for all that this whole thing is bullshit, and when the guards start arresting people in the streets? well, he's not going to stand for that, either. thankfully, unlike the last time everything went to hell, he at least has a weapon, now -- a mace borrowed from some of the loot he and Aang got from the guys who'd robbed the healers. it's not quite his sledgehammer from back home, or anything close to that he might have comissioned from one of his fellow kidnapees, but it's better than nothing. he's more than happy to christen it 'Baby Smash', and everyone should be very glad that Baby Shark hasn't taken off as an internet sensation, where and when he's from, just yet]

[anyway]

[more than happy to be in the thick of things, Wrench does what he does best -- fights back against the guards as violently and loudly as possible, trying to keep their attention on him, so his fellow protesters can do what they need to do, whether that's making a getaway or circle around and flank whoever he's currently engaging. and when the going gets tough, he's not above grabbing the nearest person and dragging them out of the crowd and up onto the roofs for a breather. maybe you're who he's pulled away? or maybe you just so happen to be on the rooftops, too?]

[he doubles over onto his knees, pulling up the corner of the mask to try and get some air in, to catch his breath when it's safe, either way]

Man. What I wouldn't give for one of those magic Red Bulls, right now.

[one of the stamina potions from when he had to try and outrun the Huntress]

II. RISE, ONE AND ALL_

[this won't be the first time Wrench has partied before the final push. this isn't even the first time that the party's smelled like fish, for all that a lot of those parties have taken place on the beach. this is the first time it's been fucking freezeing, but he's getting used to that, too, and he still has hope that where ever they end up next might be warmer]

[either way, he's making the most of it all, wandering around the party with a bottle of liquor he picked up, somewhere]

[maybe he doesn't know you, but he approaches you, anyway, a bright (^_^) on the faceplate of the mask he wears as he presses the bottle into your hands] Here. [a beat] It won't actually warm you up, but the illusions kinda nice. [it's also probably a balm for the fact that you've recently been kidnapped or arrested or have spent the last few days trying to avoid both]

[maybe he doesn't know you, but the mask he's wearing, which seems to track his facial expressions as he talks talks to someone else, catches your attention. maybe you approach him]

[or maybe, maybe he does know you, and he's a little quieter, when he approaches you with the bottle, something more solemn breaking through his usual facade of mania. he's still willing to share the bottle that, if you're quick, you may notice that he, personally, still hasn't touched, wanting to stay sober for whatever comes. either way, he starts:] You holding up alright, man? [he knows it's been a rough few days]

III. LET IT BURN_

[it's hard not to feel like he's being pulled in a hundred different directions, at the end. he wants to go help try and jailbreak Macaluso, for all that that was supposed to be what team he was on, when they had teams, and as far as he's aware, the guy didn't really do anything wrong. he wants to team up with Vannozza and bust her uncle's fucking head. he's probably most suited to climbing the towers (he's done it before), and taking out the witches on the walls, though, and -- shit, someone's got to stop that maniac from burning the city down]

[walls and towers it is, then, and so he goes. his approach this time, however, is a lot quieter than the one he took during the protests. taking a page from his best friend's book, he sneaks up on witches, on guards when he can and uses the handle of his mace or the blunt end to strangle them or beat them unconscious. they'll wake up with nasty headaches and bruises, maybe some broken bones, but they'll survive. Marcus would be proud]

[unfortunately, however, the further he goes along, the more grouped together everyone is, and it's hard to sneak up on someone, when they're standing right next to someone else. this isn't assassin's creed. he can't take the both out at once. thankfully, he's not the only one on the walls, and catching the eye of someone nearby -- or, well, he's probably trying to catch their eye. it's hard to tell, what with the mask. it's at least displaying an enthusiastic (!_!) -- he gestures them over to his hiding place]

[then, quietly:] There's, like, three of them, up ahead.

[well, if this isn't a throwback to his arrival here and trying to escape the tunnels, when he first arrived]

IV. WILDCARD_

[have something else in mind? shoot me a line at knightinqs or knightinqs#1243 on Discord, or throw me a starter here!]

II. HELLO MY DUDE

[sergeant_slick]

[This city's been fucking exhausting. Once it was clear he wasn't going to convince the civvies that they were wildly overestimating the goodness of their favorite old fart in charge, he'd just done his best to position them all to not get slaughtered, and train up the little squad that'd started following him around.]

[Five of them, all civvies. Two of them did heavy labor, and a third had done some brawling before, so they weren't entirely useless. He could still knock them all on their asses, but he'd got them trained on some simple maneuvers that worked well to get them in and out of melees.]

[Still, since none of them could really fight, he'd had to take point every single time. And that was getting really fucking old. They needed to get to the Doxe and push him off a balcony already.]

[But he's not going to show all of that, not when he's still getting to know everybody here. Morale's important, especially with untrained types that could break and run at the first sign of real trouble. The five locals are still trailing behind him when he finds Wrench, so he's in full Older Brother mode at the moment.]

Still got all my parts, and added some new ones. [He pulls out a dented mask, ripped off one of the guards.] You?

Kumoi Yuuri | Zettai Karen Children

[wantshappiness]

i: A Friend in Need

[Yuuri is a failure at most outdoorsy things but at least she can cook! Being someone who looked like a normal thirteen year old girl surely no one is going to ask her to fight vipers but her eyes keep straying over to where-ever the last person who left to fight anyway, looking concerned.

Her cooking smells fine and apart from being a little wet she looks like a teenager child who's gone camping.

But while you can catch her doing all these normal things, sometimes when someone gets close to her they hear a voice in their head like a young girl's.

Ah, I wish we had some miso paste.

Or, while she's looking out in the distance, They've been gone a while...maybe I should go make sure they're okay?]

ii: A Friend in Deed

[You know what is something she's never done? Ride a horse.

Also, wow, horses are...a lot bigger than she expected them to be.]

Um. Hello? [She reaches out her hand to pat the horse on the nose and then squeaks and flinches back when it....breathes on her too hard.

Then she bows repeatedly.] I'm sorry! That was too forward of me!

[Her body is bent at a perfect ninety degrees at the waist and that means she doesn't see the horse lowering its head to chew on her hair until it's already in his mouth (or maybe you helped her. Someone please help her she's completely out of her depth).

If the horse succeeds she stands up and waves her arms around wildly.]

Ah, no! That's--that's not food! I don't taste good!

[She looks like she's about to cry...]


iii: All Together Now

[She can't really fight in public and, well, she can't be sure her powers will work effectively against witches (witches! Real witches!) who also used illusions.

So she decided on something else.

At night, when she thought everyone else was asleep, she stepped out of the warehouse-turned-temporary base. After looking around like some kind of suspicious person she ducks around a corner and pulls a helmet out of the bag she was carrying.]

All right. Let's go.

[She says all serious like...but then she turns around and screams when she sees you.]

I'm not a suspicious person!

[For those who hadn't seen her put on the helmet may not notice its effect immediately. It makes the person wearing it harder to recognize, making the features that can be seen difficult to remember the one thing that still remains clear is that this person is a young girl.

ii

[enucleation]

[ kaneki never rode a horse before either or ever been close to a living one in his whole life. In fact, he is deeply considering not taking the beast and instead walk, since that is something his body could easily do and take. There is, naturally, the option to just take one of the caravans as well, but Ken's own paranoia and emotional state does not allow him to just sit tight and let others do the work while he waits for the arrival to Taravast.

There are options and none of them are ideal, but he decided not to pass the option of a horse ride. His stallion, however, is not up for the task of having something that is not fully human and carries the smell of death, on top of it. So he too is struggling with his hoofed friend and how to get it to accept kaneki, however his horse does not just want to chew on hair and clothes, but certainly wants to bite.

In an attempt to escape from such, Kaneki ends up walking backwards and bumps against Yuuri's horse, and that is enough to at least distract it and get it to stop chewing on her dark hair ] Ah-- I'm sorr... [ oh, the girl looks like she is about to burst into tears. Sadly he can't move from his spot, now between Yuuri's hungry horse and his own horse now biting onto kaneki's hand (you'd think that hurts, but Kaneki doesn't seem to be all that bothered. In fact, he is not even bleeding), but he still speaks softly: ]

Are you alright?

Yun Yifeng | A Sword of Frost

[badlypoisoned]

I: A Friend In Need aka What Happens When a Fatally Ill Person Gets Wet

[He did not enjoy being wet. More importantly, his body didn't tolerate it well as being wet did bring down his body temperature and his health didn't tolerate such fluctuations well. Added to that, he also felt weak...and that wasn't helpful at all.

So when he first pulled himself out of the water he looked deathly pale as he pressed a hand over his mouth, coughing violently. When he pulls his hand back there's blood there that makes him grimace to see before he reaches out to wipe it off on the sand.]

ii: A Friend in Need aka Who Let This Disaster Do Anything?

[In truth, he was more suited to fighting monsters but it seemed he needed a moment to regain his strength. Hm.

Around the camp, he could be found doing one of two things:

1) he could be attempting to cook. 'Attempting' is the keyword here because whatever he's cooking up in his pot smells terrible. No one would fault anyone who thinks he might be brewing up some kind of poison or curse in there. But he stirs it happily and if someone approaches he may offer them a taste with a friendly smile.

2) He had been carrying his guqin when he ended up here so it was with him. So he could be found sitting near the fire with the instrument laid over his lap, playing elegantly.

Except...

What he's playing doesn't sound like music. It sounds like a horrifying cacophony that could be used to scare the scorpions and vipers away...or drive them into a berserker rage and attack everyone. Not only is his playing objectively, ear-bleedingly bad it was also loud.

His expression clearly says he's enjoying himself though. This is calming, right?

iii: A Friend in Deed aka He Would Rather Be A Bandit Not A Victim of Banditry

[His heart went out to the refugees. To be caught up in this sort of thing and have to flee with nothing but what was on their back...he has seen that before (had felt it when he first left the island that had been his prison). He had nothing to give them here, and he can't give away their own precious rations. But he helped where he could, bandaged what hurts he was able to, broke up any fights that he had the time to. And if a refugee was just out to steal, well. He would teach them a lesson but he would go easy on them by merely breaking a finger or two or dislocating their shoulder. He wouldn't, for example, break their legs.

But the convoys? Those people who had things but still wanted to take from others? Well. He had very little qualms with beating them up then taking their money.

In fact, there were two people laying on the ground, groaning in pain as he emptied their money pouches in his hand with an expression of deep and sincere disdain.]

Is this all you have? Honestly, didn't anyone think to prepare a pack of emergency funds? You could have at least brought a piece of gold with you.

3!

[sergeant_slick]

[Shiny new recruits--he still couldn't figure out where they were all coming from, or why. It was suspicious as all hells. Sure, there were some vague explanations he'd heard, but none of them sounded convincing.

But in the meantime, the shinies needed to avoid the Doxe's guard postings around the city's outskirts, and not get shanked by any overenthusiastic revolutionaries mistaking them for foreign nobles. He could help with both of those, so he'd volunteered himself and his squad of locals to go out and meet them on the road.

Looked like the fun had already started when he got there, though.]

If I had money, I wouldn't be carrying it somewhere obvious either. [He hung back, gauging the situation. While beating up the natives wasn't necessarily a problem, he couldn't tell yet if this one was friendly or not.] It's dangerous on the road these days. If they're smart, they're keeping their valuables hidden.

Akira Kurusu/Joker ~ Persona 5 ~ Tourist!

[joker_wild]

A. A Friend in Need

I. [The thing is that Akira isn't even that surprised to find himself in a strange place. After first waking up in the Velvet Room however many months ago, he's almost used to this kind of thing - and definitely used to rolling with all the weirdness that's come with being the leader of the Phantom Thieves.]

[Still, this is a new one, and he pulls himself out of the water and shakes the droplets off his glasses. The fact that he's in his Shujin uniform doesn't really tell him much as to where he is - but he doesn't know what to do with the fact that he doesn't recognize anyone around him.]

[He manages to find something that looks like coffee, and he looks around - and then takes two cups toward one of the fires, where he offers the other to someone looking equally damp.]

You look like you just got here too.

II. [Without a weapon or his personas, Akira doesn't feel equipped to deal with any of the monster hunting - but he does put in some time keeping watch, gathering wood to keep the fires going, and running any other errands people need done. For a quiet high schooler, he seems self-sufficient.]

[He's done some asking around, looking for the others, but no one seems to recognize the descriptions he gives - and he doesn't know how to feel about it. Anytime new arrivals wander up to the camp, he scans over them, looking for familiar faces - and just getting more troubled when they're always strangers.]

[At night, he asks someone in his tent...]

What's it like where you're from?

B. A Friend In Deed

[Akira is the very picture of a new rider, and he wishes it wasn't so obvious. For not the first time since getting here, he wishes for Joker. It feels much easier to deal with the unexpected with the rebel's uniform and mask.]

[Fortunately, he's always been a quick learner, and by the time they really get on the road, he and the horse seem to have come to an understanding - or the horse has enough self-preservation to stay with the group and avoid the cougars he's been warned about.]

[He does take the reins when they come across a group of refugees who seem to have a broken wheel on their wagon. He's wary enough of strangers to give it a second look, and he steers the horse to the other side of the path when he notices the shine of metal under ragged clothing. If anyone drifts toward them, he calls out.]

Don't get too close.

C. Rise One and All

[The fact that Akira still hasn't found anyone familiar and the events of the last few days lead to him mostly keeping to the edges of the party. He's still trying to get the lay of things, still trying to figure out whether this is a palace or some other place he's ended up after everything went wrong with Okumura. He won't avoid people if they approach him but he is an introvert at heart.]

[He does eventually find someone who looks like they've been here a while to ask...]

Can you tell me about what's going on here?

[He's heard the official take on it all, of course, but he would like to know from someone who's actually been dealing with it.]

D. Save the Himbo, Save the World

[Akira has at least obtained a couple of daggers, which makes him feel better about the fact that he doesn't have his personas at hand. The fact that he has realized his Third Eye is working means he feels better about the idea of trying to get through the illusions the witches have put down.]

[The third time they end up at the end of the same hallway, he sighs and stops, focusing. After a moment, he huffs out a laugh - and then approaches the nearest mirror, pulling a dagger from its sheath to turn it in his hand - and then neatly applying it to the mirror, pommel first. The mirror shatters, and he grins to himself.]

This way.

E. Wildcard
[Have something else in mind? Hit me up at cotume27 or on Discord@cotume27#5389!]

A.II.

[enucleation]

[ kaneki is certainly very new; he supposes that is easy to spot, given how newcomers carry themselves after arriving to a whole new world in a whole different universe, surrounded by creatures most of them had never seen before. Completely out of place. And of course kaneki is part of such group too, no matter how tense he is during this whole thing.

After he returns from a quick look around their camp - unlike Akira, he is capable of fighting off any creatures trying to approach, as well bandits - kaneki returns to one of the tents to sit down. Sleep is impossible to him, but he should get to know the others on the same journey he is, and this seems like a good time to do so.

At least Akira speaks first. Since Kaneki is a bit of a wallflower and a bit too introvert to start the conversation on his own, he is glad for that. He smiles a little. ]

Ah... there was no magic. People live in big city with tall buildings and civilization and technology has advanced well beyond traveling with horses.

tdm tourist: patroclus menoetius - the song of achilles

[hetairos]

𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠 ⎯ 𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙

[ he'd been heading for troy when things abruptly change. he's not expecting to wake up where he is now, and most certainly not without achilles at his side. since leaving scyros, they had been inseparable ( they always were, even as children, especially on pelion ), but now patroclus feels like he's lost a limb. the feeling like he's drowning doesn't pass either, and he only wants to know where he is and what god(dess) decided he should be here. after things are explained to him, he still feels a bit adrift, but decides the best thing he can do is make use of himself... ]

𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 🠆

[ which patroclus does in the only way he knows how. he quickly finds a medic tent where he can help the healers with other new arrivals. they all seem so different, neither greek nor trojan, but that has never stopped patroclus. he's never considered himself above anyone, being a murderer and exiled prince. but as the beloved of aristos achaean, he knows he has to prove himself capable, even if he is alone.

this means approaching the first person he comes across and settles down next to them, noting that they're currently bandaging their wound in the wrong way. with a gentle hand, he reaches out to stop them. ]

You'll cut off circulation if you do that. Here, let me help.

𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑑 🠆

[ the carts are slow moving, but not unfamiliar to patroclus. horses and ships and carts are common where he's from, but heading to war is not. sure, he'd been heading to war when he arrived, bound by a blood oath he'd been forced to make as a child, but at the time, he'd had someone with him who could not only ensure his safety but fight for them both. achilles isn't here, so patroclus expects he'll have to take on fighting by himself, with his meager battle skills. ]

I suppose Ares has deemed that I should not avoid war, no matter where I go.

[ or if you want another prompt, pm me or hit me up at alkahestic ]

DO I KNOW YOU? /squints suspiciously

[glorioussong]

(A Friend In Deed)

(Achilles isn't here? Is that so? Then surely Patroclus is hallucinating the figure in gold that leaps to stand between him and danger, spear raised elegantly. A strand of gold escapes the polished helmet and dances on the wind.)

Philtatos, you've come.

Wrathion | World of Warcraft (Old Timer!)

[blackscales]

> THE STREETS, RALLYING:

The chaos has begun. Just as Wrathion feared, the guards retaliate -- and they aim to draw blood.

This is not, in truth, a battle he feels is his battle. These people are not his people. He tried to dissuade it, tried to discourage as many as he could, but he cannot blame them for it. They have grievances, ones that he cannot argue with. They only desire support and safety, and instead they have had silence.

Still.

His role in Macaluso's household is, for now, on hold. He's in the good graces of the rebels, advising without directly encouraging them to violence -- only tempering things where he can. That, at least, means he has warning before this all begins.

On top of that, he has leverage.

The idea of taking prisoners, of ransoming people, is admittedly not a poor one. The problem is two-fold: one, Wrathion is quite sure Bonaccorso hasn't the slightest interest in paying any ransom. Two, some of those being taken he recognises as being fellow associates of the Merchant. Wrathion isn't certain he would pay their ransoms either. Or at least, not his.

Through the crowd, he makes eye contact with someone being dragged out of the palace. Around their neck, a familiar style of pendant hangs. Another of the Merchant's recruits.

He moves through the fighting quickly, close enough to overhear them discussing their plans, then intercepts quickly.

"Not this one," he says firmly, "they're with me."

He grasps one of the rebels by the arm, leans in and whispers something. They nod, glance between each other, then release their hostage and move away through the crowd. Wrathion watches them leave, then turns to the newly released captive.

"Do you have somewhere safe to go?"

Since it is decidedly not safe here, currently.


> RISE ONE, RISE ALL:

The celebrations leave Wrathion unsettled.

So many of these people will die. So many of them have likely never fought before, and seem to little understand exactly the fate that awaits them. They may not be his people, but he is currently living among them. He knows many of them well, and the consequences of their actions will impact him and all the other Merchant's collection of refugees.

He could meddle further. He could involve himself and either make sure they win, or make sure they lose.

It would be easy to simply unfurl into his true shape, to take down guards --

To risk the weapons taking him down in turn.

Black dragons have involved themselves in politics before. Even playing the Merchant's game as he has is already more than he should do.

He closes the small notebook he's been writing in, a chaos of runic letters and small sketches, and pauses to pull the tie from his hair so he can catch all the dark curls back properly. Straightening his dark coat he sits back with a sigh, takes a sip of drink and scans the room.

Another figure slips into a seat nearby, and Wrathion's eyes skim over them.

"Will you be storming the palace tomorrow?"

The one is light, curious, but nothing of Wrathion's expression as he asks it speaks of enthusiasm for the gambit.


> DESTINY (CLOSED: SLICK):

"Do you think they're ready?"

An honest, direct sort of question. Wrathion isn't sure how he feels about it himself -- when it comes to the numbers game, they have enough. If a large enough number of them can handle themselves, they'll likely overwhelm the guards. The problem is, the magic users. If they're turned on the rebels, and the palace has more of them, then many of the civilians will be cut down quickly.

He leans against the outside of the warehouse, trying to decide how he feels about it.

Uneasy, he thinks. He feels uneasy. A lack of security. A lack of control. What will happen if the rebels win? If they don't? What will it mean for the Merchant's party? For those still in the palace, and for those outside?

Will he be forced to flee back out of the citadel, into the arms of the Beastmaster?

Wrathion takes a slow sip of his drink, watching the people coming and going.

Uneasy. He keeps his expression schooled, but his mind races. Slick has been helping them. He cannot decide if he hopes it is enough. It would be better for them if Bonaccorso was ousted in favour of someone who would use the beacon, but would it be better for the civilians? Would either the niece or nephew be a good leader? What, in the end, is the price of peace?

[ ooc; Can switch to brackets for something else if you prefer. Also feel free to wildcard me something else! He's on the Macaluso rescue team, but this top level was already too long for another prompt... ]

Destiny!

[sergeant_slick]

He snorts. "Of course not. They haven't got a single damn clue what they're doing." And he's been wanting to vent about it for days now, but he's been trapped within earshot of the locals.

"I've trained them up as much as I can, but I'm an infantry sergeant. I do small unit tactics, ground prep for single operations, that kind of thing." And he's good at it.

But. "I got trained for ten years to do it, but I was only deployed for three months before I got sent here." And before he got arrested for treason, but there's no need to over-share right now. "I can't help them on the big picture stuff, and they haven't got any plans for that."

"The ones that came to me thought they were gonna just waltz into the palace and wake up the Doxe, then everything would be fine. They might be able to kick the old guy out, they've got numbers on their side. But they haven't prepped for this."

lorna dane | the gifted | old timer

[chromiums]

THEY'RE RALLYING IN THE STREET

A

[ it's impossible to not hear about a protest that's meant to be peaceful and not feel on edge when you've witnessed so many of those go horribly sideways, and lorna is visibly on edge as she lingers on the edge of the crowds, hands poised in the position to summon her ability if she ends up needing to. when things start to escalate she tries to intervene before things get too violent, pulling away or disabling weapons before they can get used.

eventually, the façade of things starting out peaceful starts to get dropped earlier and earlier on in the day, and lorna steps further into the crowd, both to avoid drawing attention to herself and to try to get closer to those in danger. a guard swings his mace above his head and prepares to bring it down, and lorna intervenes, raising her hands in the air and summoning her strength to yank it out of his hand and pull it into hers. green wisps of magnetic energy emanate from her hands, staying in place as she takes a firmer hold of the weapon, glaring at the guard. ]

Don't make me use this.

[ there are also times where she's less aggressive and more concerned with getting people to safety, using her ability just to get weapons out of the hands of would-be attackers. once they're out, lorna runs to the side of whomever she's rescued, pulling them out of the fray. ]

There's an alley that's a short ways down that should be quieter than here. I'll meet you down there.

[ then she leaps back into the action, the glow never ebbing away from her hands. ]

B

[ eventually lorna discovers a building that's been abandoned, and whether that abandonment is temporary or permanent she decides it's a good enough spot for the purposes she and the others she's run into and rescued need it for. it seems to be an inn, so it's well enough equipped for those injured to hopefully get some treatment while they recuperate and figure out where to head next. ]

All right. Head to the back if you've got anything that needs looking at. If any of you can help out those who got hurt, go with them.

[ everyone else is left more or less to their own devices, and lorna takes a second to meet with as many as she can; both because she wants to be sure they're as okay as they can be and because she wants to make sure they're not about to start attacking everyone that's been gathered. (fool her three times, shame on her.) she directs a few others to find water and supplies if they can, going with one group into the kitchen.

eventually she finds a seat near the window, keeping an eye out on what's happening outside and occasionally checking her device for updates. as the night falls, things appear calmer outside, but she knows better than to trust that they'll stay that way. ]

WILDCARD

[ feel free to throw something else my way if these options don't work for you! i can be reached through PMs or vdova if you've got any questions. ]

a

[rumorate]

[The thing about Allison's power is that it's only good depending on how fast she can talk. It's a skill she's had to learn to harness like a muscle, as it can mean the difference between life and death, but in this particular opportunity, she couldn't get the words out of her mouth fast enough, brain frozen as she inserted herself between the guard and one of the protestors.

Then, the mace goes flying out of the guard's hand.

As she turns to see Lorna, the relief washes over her, and she smirks.]

One of these days, I'm going to have to return the favor.

[The guard seems determined, however, and as he reaches to draw his sword, Allison's leg snaps up, catching him between the legs before he could go further.]

yennefer of vengerberg | the witcher (netflix) | tourist!

[violetchaos]

A Friend In Need

[ It seems the ale did not disappoint, as Tissaia promised. Yennefer's slumber was so deep that there was no sense of displacement at all and only when the distorted sound of someone nearby registers does she slowly open her eyes and presses her hand to her stomach where the events of the war come back slowly to her.

What the fuck..

Though it takes incredible strength to focus, Yennefer finds herself far too disoriented and confused to think about the detriment of where she currently is and the war that was happening where she should be. Or that performing any magic takes concentration that she simply cannot manage.

Once her wounds are tended to and bandaged, the sorceress sets out to try and make sense of things, though after a couple of days a calming voice from her was more dry and unenthusiastic, almost as if she was being inconvenienced. ]

Look, they have told you the same thing that they have told me, which isn't a lot. So, stop asking me so many questions.


A Friend In Deed

[ Without knowing where she is and her magic more miss than hit, Yennefer does as she's told and after her head clears enough and she can focus again, she is sent out on cart headed towards a place that is not familiar to her. But it didn't matter. There had to be more answers there than the desert outpost.

A day into the journey, violet eyes pick up on a group of people huddled around what looks to be an overturned cart and before long, she picks up on a feeling that tells her something isn't right. It wasn't the first time this has happened and Yennefer scoffs as she jumps down and heads over. ]

You have to be pretty daft to think I can't smell your plan from a mile back. You're not the first group of refugees we've happened on. So, if your plan is to try and loot us - sure - give it your best.

a friend in need;

[chosenbylight]

[Anduin watches with something of a wince as the man slinks off with his proverbial tail between his legs to sit on the other side of the fire. He supposes that he might go aid the hapless man himself, but there's something about the weary set to the woman's shoulders that has him stepping forward towards her side instead.

There is a potential that this could blow up in his face, but it wouldn't be the first time, nor will it be the last, he is certain.]

Forgive me. I do not mean to intrude, if you would rather... [He gestures towards the man she has just frightened away, offering a somewhat sheepish smile.]

I could not help but notice, though -- are you injured? [He tips his head towards one of her bandages.]

Eadith | The Last Kingdom | Tourist

[kingswhore]

I. A Friend in Deed

[The journey is a difficult one, but after difficult travels through Mercia and Wessex, this was not something Eadith was unprepared for. At least there was no sickness this time, only sand storms that tore at her face and clothes. Water and horses were blessings, gifts that helped her endure as only a woman could.

Near the citadel gates, there were more refugees and travelers. Pockets of people that either watched with interest or dismissed her outright. Pulling her hood further over her head, Eadith slowed her horse, watching to make certain none attacked her. Without a weapon, she was vulnerable.

Despite her attempt at vigilance, she missed the group of men that converged around her horse. There had been broken carts and caravans that they had used as cover, surrounding her before she could realize what was happening.

The men tugged at her horse's reins, pulling at her cloak and skirts. The remarks were likely much the same as she heard before, but it seemed the language was one she didn't know. She kicked at them, trying to guide her horse away but they held tight.]

Get off! Leave me be!

II. Rise One, Rise All

[It isn't the first siege she's been through, but now it was a kingdom she didn't know and politics that she didn't fully understand. The Merchant had urged them to help, telling them that their presence would be a relief to the existing members of their very strange community. If she could help in some way, she was willing to try.

Some took up weapons, but that had never been her skill and she had no true desire to learn unless pressed. So instead, she kept watch on the gates, the movements of the guards and servants. There was likely a way inside, but it might require stealth and perhaps convincing lies.

She was working up the courage to make her move when a figure joined her. She glanced at them before turning her eyes back to the doors.]

You mean to go in as well?

ii

[onen_i_estel]

[ Perhaps it was the work of fate that Aragorn spotted the young woman before she made her move. He'd been scouting the area for some time and though he considers himself an accomplished huntsman, traveller and Ranger, protecting lands and the people from whatever threats that loom over them.

This place might not be his home and he had no business involving himself when he very clearly needed to get back to the situation in his world, but that wasn't likely to happen until all this was over.

It was easy enough to see that the woman was on her own and maybe shouldn't have been there at all. As always, he felt compelled to make sure she, at least, stays safe. So, Aragorn moves to her, giving a nod while grey eyes scan the area ahead of them and evenly look at the three guards standing close enough to the gates that would make it far more challenging to get in. ]

Not this way, though. Dealing with one of those guards means you need to deal with the other two.