westwhere | serthica: war & peace

serthica: war & peace

Clockwork Serthica’s arrival event stretches til around 3 September. You’re welcome to hit up this log or make your own entries. Characters not assigned to a region can still access it, as long as they’re discreet.

Please share cool plot clues via network — and have fun!

WAR & PEACE

SUMMARY: The Merchant assigns the group to determine if the dead lurk within Serthica’s adversarial halves. Eidris and Minaras hold a summit to normalise trade within Serthica’s elusive Neutral Zone — while a resistance movements attempts to capture Minaras lead figure Arabella. In Eidris, locals must calm a maddened dragon and her cohort and retrieve her hatching eggs. Minaras hosts its eerie civic indoctrination that seeks to extirpate physical and moral decay.

FAIR FORTUNE | SWITZERLAND | EIDRIS: THERE BE DRAGONS | MINARAS: EYES ON YOU

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FAIR FORTUNE

The party at sea is smuggled into Serthica with help from false passport papers secured by their Mouse House companions. The two groups meet at Serthica’s port customs, in time for the Merchant’s private transmission:

”Good afternoon. I salute and thank the efforts of our recent additions. You performed exceptionally.

You will hear Serthica is sundered by war, sickness and irreconcilable differences. In truth, she is likely divided by the interests of those who weaponise fear and manipulate opportunity.

In Eidris, they claim Minaraians are not human. In Minaras, they speak the same of Eidris. Disgust, dismay and paranoia have created a… system of profound physical avoidance. If this is mere fearmongering, it is distasteful, but inconsequential. However… if one of the citadel’s halves has succumbed to the dead, who now know to feign they yet live… this marks a dire escalation. You must study this.

Your transportation beacon sleeps in the holy grounds of Vassarizhia. It will light within months, when the Heart’s clock quiets for its annual winding. You may visit the grounds during the upcoming trade summit.

While in Serthica, your only objectives are to survive until the beacon’s eye opens, and to discover the dead present. I pray but question you will prevail.”

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SWITZERLAND

After a lengthy inspection of their passport papers, the party is steered towards the Sanctuary of Serthica’s Neutral Zone — a vast institute near Serthica’s great clock tower. Here, representatives of Eidris and Minaras assemble at midday for peaceful negotiations to improve distant trade relations.

■ The Merchant recommends mingling to broaden your investigation into Serthica’s dead. Even Minaras leading figurehead Arabella will attend.

■ For peace-keeping, entrants to the Sanctuary must surrender their weapons or allow them to be sealed, if they want to carry them in. Weapons are released on departure. Physical enhancements that characters cannot remove (ex: vampire fangs) are excepted.

■ Those who are unwilling to give up or seal their weapons can head on to Eidris and Minaras.

■ Summit attendants receive badges reflecting their Serthica identities, or can divert the greeting droid and liberate the insignia of a delayed delegation. Higher-ranking badges earns you more lenient treatment and higher security clearance.

■ Eidris attendants receive golden armbands or scarves, those of Minaras dark blue.

■ In bustling halls, officials negotiate grain exchanges, new train railways, the currency exchange rate and the saddening conditions of Mouse House exiles. Alas, if only someone (not them) could help.

■ Those drafted into the talks are toasted with a green, mint-like potion — an unadvertised truth serum intended to keep negotiations honest. The potion’s effects last two to four hours, compelling truth but not speech. But do talk: candour wins answers.

■ Artisans display their finest novelty items in the main reception hall. Aggressively enthusiastic traders seek testers and investors for their wares — potent opiates, goggles that show you the world in 10 years’ time, even detailed plans for luxury teahouses offering droid companionship. Extricate yourself with as much coin and dignity as possible.

SLEEP, CHILD, SLEEP

■ The great clock of the Neutral Zone strikes 18:00, triggering a light three-minute earthquake and the rise of nocturnal Minaras.

■ The Sanctuary loses all electric power. As servants rush for candles, you might notice some native summit delegates behave peculiarly: their eyes look glassy, faces trapped in an expression of comical, exaggerated dismay. Many are frozen in tense positions. Others move in sluggish, uncoordinated and jerky spasms. One might catch your wrist and attempt to speak in staggered, guttural croaks.

■ Lights return once the earthquake finishes. Locals resume regularly and do not seem to have noticed any erratic behaviour.

SLEEP, CHILD, SLEEP
CONTENT WARNING: TERROR ATTACK

■ Starting her speech, Arabella of Minaras calls a tribute for those lost to the great Culling sickness that struck Serthica mere years before. The vigil is interrupted by a fusillade of rifle shots fired from outside, through the Sanctuary’s wall-long windows.

■ The bullets exclusively target Minaras delegates and do not contain gunpowder, but a thickened, pale liquid. Once shot, those wounded experience a hysterical, incontrollable terror and the certainty that their greatest fear is hunting them. Many of the shot delegates develop an instant flight response and seek to claw their way out of the Sanctuary, with no care for whom they trample in their path. This terror lasts 30-60 minutes. Please content warn if you graphically describe your character’s greatest fear.

■ As rifle gunshots die down, a voice from outside introduces the Remembrance coalition, pledging safety if the summit surrenders Arabella.

■ The Sanctuary activates emergency measures: protective magical wards start to slowly reinforce, while attendants risk their lives to return characters’ weapons.

■ You could team up and help Arabella’s few remaining guards to escort her to safety in Minaras. Drop a line if you take this route.

■ Outside, you find the Sanctuary’s grounds have been drenched in a thick fog that barely allows you to see steps ahead. Your senses dull, and you are gradually prone to sleep — while masked men close in with rifles and vicious droid hunting hounds.

■ Help Sanctuary guards take out the assailants — and submit your character for a RNG draw to interrogate a lone captive.

■ Characters who later investigate the Sanctuary can find some of its windows have been very carefully pricked, fissured or even minutely holed, easing the way for attack.

Crawl back to your home base in Eidris or Minaras — you need the beauty sleep.

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EIDRIS | THERE BE DRAGONS

Eidris’s relaxed atmosphere might balm your rattled nerves after the Sanctuary’s disasters. Startled citizens gather to offer you help settling in, while dragons seek you out to curl up and nuzzle.

Eidris is governed by natural order and harmony, achieved through firm etiquette, consideration and reminders to slow down. You can hole up in a room in one of the many abandoned and repurposed villas, or group up to take a whole house. Local technology is a blend of mechanical gears and magic that substitutes fuels. Sorcerers are frequent, boastful and admired.

Dig deeper, and you’ll find the people of Eidris are unwilling to linger on negative experiences and gradually lose memory of them. If queried, many natives have normalised intermittent amnesia, with some using their link to their dragons to stay anchored in the present.

■ Acclimate to your roles in Eidris and enjoy the sweet welcome of neighbourly gifted meals and knitwear and a personal, signed letter of support from king Thivar.

■ Eidris prepares for the rare hatching of dragon eggs, lain by the beautiful fire-breathing Aiva — one of the fewer martial dragons used by Eidris’ military. Two weeks into your stay (around 25 August, forward date at will), word spreads that Aiva’s mate has been deeply injured by a Minaras scouting ship during the 6:00-7:00 overlap period when the two citadel halves are both overground.

■ A panicked, distrustful Aiva collects her silver-shelled eggs from the formal nest quarters, hiding them on the rooftops or in the balconies of tall, dangerous buildings. Several other martial dragons assist Aiva by guarding these hideaways until the young dragons can hatch.

■ Eidris calls back most transport dragons to avoid altercation with their fire-breathing, paranoid brethren. This might strand some riders on the nearest decrepit rooftop, while testy dragons fly by. They don’t initiate attack, but are more prone to warning tail sweeps or light charring, if you come close.

■ Dragon lord Cain d’Ubiq urges riders that can reconnect with their dragons to help retrieve the 1m, 50-kg eggs and deliver them back to the dragon grounds nest before they hatch by sundown — terrorising the baby dragons that wake alone and ripping into local architecture. Other riders are needed to spread a trail of deep incense smoke in the air that can soothe dragons from their outburst. Lend a hand!

■ Characters who enlisted for dragon riding on arrival could be middling riders by this point.

■ Aiva’s children hatch moments before the clock ticks 18:00 and Minaras also surges overground. Characters linked to a dragon feel the birth: first as an overwhelming exuberance, then as an all-consuming and irrational dread that briefly reduces them to inexplicable tears.

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MINARAS | EYES ON YOU

A sharp departure from Eidris’ laissez-faire is watchful Minaras, where citizens obsess with schedules, orderliness and time — as if every second is both borrowed and wasted.

Newcomers can choose between one-person 2.5x2.5m ‘sleep units’ in packed industrial homes, or pool funds to rent small refurbished alcoves that once served as hospital or science halls. Space is a luxury, silence a myth: helper droids constantly fuss after their masters, steam engines cough outside, and the gentle thrum on the streets betrays the current-shifting omnipresence of large Watch ships.

Civic sound systems periodically bleat reminders for citizens to STAY HALE, STAY WHOLE, alongside tips for basic droid care, the latest in scientific discoveries, paid ads and reminders not to park your robotic carriage near hydrants.

■ Quickly learn the ropes of your assumed identity, as Minaraians have a duty to report peculiar behaviours.

■ Watch ships prevent lawbreaking while Minaras is overground. Crime rates spike rapidly when Minaras falls underground.

■ More than violence, Minaraians appear to fear their pocket watch times being wrong, filth and sickness. The smallest cough earns a stern glance and a wide berth.

■ As part of Minaras’ periodic social indoctrination, you are robotically escorted alongside your peers and other unrelated Minaraians to a civic integration centre. Here, you take turns before a mechanical droid sphinx labelled ASCLEPIOS that asks, ”What rots you? and compels an honest answer (this can be emotional, mental or physical sickness, minor or severe).

■ A painless tattoo appears on the back of your hand, listing your Decay (ex: ‘malnourishment,’ ‘a choleric temper’). Others in the indoctrination centre must help you mend through acts of care (ex: cooking you a meal, helping you meditate). The tattoo fades after 72 hours, or once sufficient acts of care have ‘cured’ you.

■ After one week (around 20 August, but feel free to forward date), a transmission from Arabella informs watch, aerial, military and health units that Minaras is changing the daily schedule of its scout ships. The last scouts will now be deployed at 4:15am and return to base by 5:00am.

QUESTIONS

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

They exit the ship, grateful to be on land once more. There's even what sounds to be a city ahead - two cities ahead, which will likely have better resources than what was available in the village. In Taravast, they were able to make money and have an actual kitchen to use regularly, which Emilia made great use of. He knows how happy cooking makes her, and so he can only hope the same can be said of this city.

His gaze lingers on Emilia while they walk together into the customs. The group is awaiting the Merchant's message of what they're to do next. He dislikes having to be told what to do, but again that is the way it has been since they arrived in this world. Wrath is no king, has no House as much as he may be protective of the group with the understanding it's the only way they can return to where they came from.

"Are you glad to be off of the ship? Away from the sea?"

They spent months in the village and then months on the water.

Emilia walks beside him, her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. She takes this opportunity to inspect both their surroundings and the new faces that await them at port customs. They owe these people a great deal, it seems.

Wrath's question shifts her focus, attention moving to her prince instead. Some of the tension eases from her shoulders, the look on her face most likely answer enough. She answers him regardless, some attempt at levity.

"I look forward to eating something other than oranges," she admits to him, a mild complaint in the grander scheme of things. It is more important they made it out of the Crossing with their lives.

And some new magical body parts to spare. There is that, too.

Wrath watches her face as they walk side by side even as he remains aware of their surroundings. This world has proven to be entirely dangerous and to have an effect on his abilities. He always has his guard up, but there's softness in his expression as he looks down at his wife to be. It's a softness no one else draws out from him nor will ever see.

"Perhaps there will even be a kitchen with a variety of ingredients and not an orange in sight."

Instead of the sea with its primarily preserved foods and rations or the Village which had the bare minimum. If they are to be trapped here, he'd like her to have the relaxation and happiness that comes to her with being able to make food freely.

...and he has missed her cannolis.

"How generous of you to wish me such good fortune, and so lacking in ulterior motive," is a lilting reminder she does know of your sweet tooth, sir. Who could have imagined the General of War himself disarmed by sugary ricotta?

Admittedly, she was once warned she'd catch more flies with honey than vinegar. It is just that she runs low on sweetness these days, more often than not. He seems to find the sharp of her tongue just as satisfying, regardless.

Seems to be in a better mood himself, now that they're on steady land.

The gold of his eyes are revealing, softened for her as they are, and she wonders if he's thinking what she is. If he can scarcely wait to finish what they started before the Crossing attempted to claim them. ... The communication stone in her pocket stirs, alerting her of a new transmission. The Merchant is making himself known — Emilia would recognise that voice anywhere.

Wrath smiles slightly. He does not deny these ulterior motives. Beyond enjoying what she creates, he likes to watch her in the kitchen and finds it soothing to chop perfectly cut pieces of various food items. Primarily, he does think of the possibility of having privacy again.

They nearly acted on their desires on the ship, but the Crossing was dangerous with pirates everywhere. He would prefer for the first time he claims her (and be claimed by her in turn) to be a place they can secure for their privacy. He sees the desire in her expression and can feel that emotion inside of her: hope, wanting.

They're interrupted. It's becoming infuriatingly familiar. Wrath doesn't remove his stone when she has her. He listens as his gaze surveys the port. The announcement itself comes with no assignments. They are to get a text messages informing them of which city they belong to. The smile has dropped from his face, however.

"Two separate groups who are at odds... as in Taravast."

Emilia and he had been separated then. Certainly, it would not be the case again.

Spoilers: it is the case. Again.

Emilia shares a look with Wrath, irritation flashing in her eyes before she tames it, or perhaps replaces it with grimness. Dead that may yet feign to live? The Merchant is right it would signal an escalation most unwelcome.

They're handed their passports, along with their respective roles. Wrath, detective of a House in Minaras. Emilia, ring leader of a burgeoning opiate empire in Eidris. A step up from the catch of the season in Taravast, in truth.

She doesn't forget to be grateful for their winning ticket, though she isn't allowed to voice her appreciation just yet. Neither is she allowed to share her displeasure with Wrath, for the inspection of their passports is lengthy and nerve-racking, and as soon as they're admitted, natives steer them towards the Sanctuary. Too many eyes on them, and she would rather wait until they're alone.

Emilia shares another look with Wrath, a subtle nod to accompany it this time. She'll relinquish her weapon.

Their irritation is matched in that moment.

Neither of them reveal it on their faces at present, but it is shared. He can feel her own match his. His shoulders straighten, and his expression schools into something more neutral as they are ushered forward. They do not know the state of these cities nor their accommodations yet. He can transvenio to her wherever she is, and it is with this reminder, he allows himself to calm the beast rattling within the cage, which hates being made to do and go where someone else tells him to (especially when that place is away from Emilia. Again).

Wrath carries this irritation with him into the summit itself. Her nod is met with one of his own - a flash of understanding. They are both capable of doing an incredible amount of damage without a single weapon in hand. These weapons will be sealed away and returned including the dagger he gave her when they were in Taravast. They are ushered further in passed stalls where artists and inventors beg for those with money to invest. He does still have quite a great deal of money from his time in Taravast, but he has no intention of investing in any of these.

His voice lowers to be heard only by her when they are near to those items, marveling over the strangeness of it. "...it appears this area has more advanced technology than our own and to the last two places we visited."

No one approaches them readily in the reception hall, a result that is at odds with the Merchant's request that they all mingle. Thankfully, this also means the aggressive enthusiasm of the traders is first expended elsewhere. Emilia has learned there are perks, sometimes, to walking alongside someone that looks like trouble and gives off an aura of primal danger.

She accepts the golden scarf she is offered, thinking the color — one of his House colors — would suit him better. Studies, too, the droid that greets them with warring suspicion and intrigue. Never has she seen anything quite like it.

"Do you ... sense anything?" she asks him, her own voice lowered as she feigns interest in the stall they approach. She needs to feign little, in truth. His assessment of the technology and resources is correct, and inspires curiosity.

(Where Wrath has no intention of making a purchase, Emilia does note the opiates that are on display. If nothing else, it might be wise to look into learning more of them if she is to be an expert. She doesn't want to be caught unprepared.)

Wrath's gaze lingers on the golden scarf she is given. He likes the way it looks on her even if it is suited to his House colors. She will one day rule over his House and over all of Hell should she, in fact, choose him, and he likes to think of those future days ahead of them where little can interfere. Still he stays near to her despite the bands that denote they should be elsewhere. They were told to mingle, and they do so seamlessly. This is the one time where the two different sides do not have to be separated.

"There is magic around - wards, some magic in the items themselves. Nothing appears to be dangerous," he says at least presently. They both know better than to let down their guards. He scans the area. "...the brew ahead is magical."

And in fact, he does not need to be aware of its magic nature, because they are told as they approach what it is. At least there is warning this time. It's a truth potion. Wrath grimaces so slightly that it can barely be noticed.

"Envy likes to use that."

Emilia feels it too, the magic. There is great power here in terms of it, magic and resources. It reminds her of Taravast, with similar displays of luxury and prosperity. They soon discovered the rot underneath that allowed it to thrive.

The price of it.

The mention of his brother turns her head toward him. She's intimately aware now of Envy's penchant for magical brews, having risked spelling the wine they once shared at his urging. She was compelled to tell the truth, but so was he. She prickles at the reminder of that conversation, his nonsensical ramblings peppered with some tangible truths.

"He likes his collections," Emilia says in agreement, having now been to his circle. Unable to shed the strangest sense of déjà vu that had washed over her upon entering. "Their magic is as advanced as their science."

Wrath's gaze lingers on Emilia at her agreement. They never really spoke of her time in Envy's circle, and it bothers him he doesn't know what happened there.

He was not there upon her return from it, and she was not ready to share anything with him at that time regardless, but he was the one to drop of her off there, worried despite himself about what would occur. It was her choice, however, to make, and part of him was impressed she decided to go to that brother in particular given all he had already done to Emilia's family.

There's the slightest of frowns within his expression. This is hardly the place to get into it either, but-

"...I imagine he showed you some of them."

"You know what he was after, ultimately."

Wrath was in possession of the key all along, after all. Of course Envy made a show of leading her through his own personal museum of curiosities. The book of spells she once believed La Prima's. Paintings and sketches.

Sculptures.

"He showed me the Fallen."

It was her favorite piece by far, at least until she came close. Close enough to see the warrior angel's body was similar to Wrath's. Close enough to discern the position of him, as though he'd been shoved from a great height.

Wrath does know. Envy enjoys making a show of his collection, his items. Wrath finds the best way to hide something special is to leave it in plain view as if was as simple as any other item surrounding it. No fanfare, nothing to make it stand out. He is still impressed and unsurprised she solved the mystery and found it herself.

Of course, knowing she has seen Envy's collection means he should be prepared for what she says next, but he isn't. His expression remains as impassive as ever especially here in public where they're surrounded by others. Not a hint of cold leaves him as he utilized his well sharpened restraint to gather in the anger that immediately shoots up inside of him.

Naturally, Envy would show her that. His brother does always like to play with fire and would certainly like for Wrath to be hurt in the way he hurt him.

"I cannot say that I am surprised," he says after the moment of pause it takes to cage his initial reaction, and then: "What were your thoughts?"

Wrath has not lived this: his breathing coming hard and fast as he held her to him, her Cursed leaf shattered in the rubble of a table turned. The weight of one truth coming to rest between them. His expression shuttering as he awaited her judgment. The glittering cloud of smoke he left in his wake when she gave it. I am not interested in what others think. Only you.

That he asks for her thoughts — this isn't surprising. Not anymore. What surprises Emilia are her feelings, how she finds them changed. She'd wanted to forget the truth of his origins. She'd wanted him to be the monster of the stories she was told, told since she was too young to understand them. Stories so terrible and frightening she was forbidden from uttering his name.

And he can be, frightening. Capable of honor and wickedness alike, though not as evil as the world would believe. Not evil, not good. He simply exists. She thinks she finally understands, not that she'd been able to tell him this then.

Not that it's the right time to tell him now. So she doesn't risk looking at him, her eyes on the stall they move to next, but she does answer. A partial truth. "I thought it was magnificent." Wrath is. "He said it was to remember."

Edited 2022-08-22 02:35 (UTC)

It is a truth he is aware of, but it still takes him by surprise.

He had feared her learning that particular truth (and is not that...strange? He is fear itself - he does not fear but creates fear in those around him - except it all changes when it comes to her. it always has). She knows. Emilia is aware of what exactly he is, and she wants him still. She seems to fear him less since learning despite the many, many stories within the world of mortals of how incredibly terrible the devil is.

Then she answers her thoughts on the statue she saw of him - the one where he falls, the one with his wings on display.

Magnificent.

It affects him enough to let it show - the briefest amount though she does not look at his face. His gaze is softer, surprised. His reaction is emotional enough that he does not feel further anger at Envy and his reasons. Further puzzle pieces slot together, and he pulls the beast back again, tension in his shoulders. He walks closer to her - a brush of his hand at her back.

"...he is how you learned of the tree."

The summit begins proper, Lady Arabella of Minaras taking center stage.

Emilia is spared from answering, though the look on her face is answer enough. He would call her a liar if she pretended otherwise, like he has on several occasions, but she feels no need to in this instance. Her secrets are never safe from him as it is. No, he is the one who remains somewhat shrouded in mystery, though less so now that she's gathered some of the biggest pieces.

Her own self is shrouded in mystery. It's difficult to put into words how frustrating that is, how disturbing. Envy was being self-serving when pointing out the painting of the Curse Tree, but Emilia couldn't ignore the knowledge it offered.

With an exhale that loosens her chest, Emilia walks over to where they've congregated, not without awareness of his hand at her back. Once there, they put some distance between them, just like they did in Taravast to obscure their connection.

She takes the time to assess Arabella, and her admittedly impressive accessories. The look of her innocent enough, if not for a hint of steel underneath. She speaks of the sickness that has glaringly changed everything for Serthica.

Wrath has been given his answer, and he takes that in for the moment. There is no time to speak further about it, and he is so limited on what he can say as it is. However, the monster with its teeth and claws are rattling at the cage within his chest at the moment, because Envy does not care what happens to her.

But he does, and he would not have risked her life in that way.

It's infuriating for every one of his brothers to know it too and to use it to their advantage at every turn.

His gaze is trained on the leader in front, taking in what information she relays while also remaining on alert. Even from this distance between them, he does not allow himself to lose sight of her within the crowd. It isn't long into her speech before explosions occur - the gunshots ring out, and Wrath turns toward them but his immediate reaction is to transvenio to her, to Emilia.

The dark smoke with gold whisps wraps around him, smells of brimstone, and he's at her side, placing his body in front of the area where the gunshots ring out from, echoing through the crowd. He grips hold of her arm tight and doesn't say a word before he transvenios them to a pillar that can block them from the bullets still exploding through.

Screams echo out. People are running. He can feel their fear.

The first gunshot reminds her of the ice pellet that rent the air during the Feast of the Wolf, except this is no friendly hunt, and the prize is that much more deadly. A riot of gunshots follow the first, all in quick succession and with precision: it lets Emilia know these are no amateurs. Her suspicions are only further confirmed when she notes she herself is left unharmed.

So is everyone else that wears a golden scarf or badge.

The Sanctuary's wall-long windows burst, and are soon joined by screams. The person next to her was Minaras-bound and struck, though not with the bullet she was anticipating. Instead, liquid seems to gleam down their jacket, and —

They grow hysterical. They speak of the sickness that once ravaged Serthica. Shriek in utter refusal that it won't take them, too. Before they can lunge at Emilia as though she is the sickness itself, she's spirited away in shadows.

"They're meant for you," she says after another beat, though he's undoubtedly noticed himself. Every single person struck wears blue on their person. She presses herself into the pillar, hiding herself further from view as she considers their options.

Edited 2022-08-22 22:10 (UTC)

Wrath has not noticed in his panic to get to her side. Her statement does not stop his gaze from razing over her to be certain she has not been hit by anything though he has understood already that it isn't bullets. Wrath smells no blood - only fear (exacerbated far beyond what such a situation should create, and they do not fear what is shooting at them but something else).

"They're not bullets."

He reaches up and removes the identifier from his body, trusting her observation with ease. He doesn't have a gold one to replace it with, but if they are specifically looking for blue, they won't see it on him which would give them pause and allow him more than enough time to be faster than their rifles can hit. His hand remains on her arm even still, and they do not move from around the pillar where his body remains keeping her close to where she will not be hit or trampled over by crowds rushing by. He can hear the sounds of a few people dying but not feel it - not feel their deaths.

The bullets slow and stop.

A voice comes next. It demands an exchange for peace even among the screams, the running which still occurs. Hand over Arabella, and they will leave and safety can be guaranteed for those who remain. It's strange to listen to it among the chorus of sounds of fear and dying, of people running and their heartbeats pounding like drums.

Emilia has not his ability to sense what others may be feeling, but the fear is so palpable in the room she almost chokes on it. It pumps through her own veins as she looks back at Wrath, ascertaining his own safety before listening to the voice™.

For all she knows, there is true reason to hate Arabella. They only stepped foot in Serthica two hours ago, if that, and to take a stance with so little knowledge strikes her as foolish: they're not here for that to begin with. What she does know is this pledge of safety rings hollow when people are being trampled in their efforts to escape the Sanctuary, some imprisoned in illusory nightmares.

... Also, if either of them — Wrath especially — are hit with a bullet, even inadvertently, it would be very, very bad. She gives the room a quick appraisal. It's not as though she can cast a sleep spell on the whole room. ~~Unless...?~~

She can, however, cast a sleep spell on a frenzied delegate that was shot. They were seconds away from using their own abilities on one of the guards. The chaos will awaken them back soon enough, but it gives the guard enough time to subdue them, and remove them safely. It's clear the summit has no intention of surrendering Arabella. Mitigating collateral damage is their best bet.

Wrath notes with approval her expert use of a sleep spell which is just in time to prevent a dangerous situation from getting any more out of hand. They are too new to this city to have any understanding of the Remembrance group or of this particular political leader. However, their methods are clearly to induce fear, and they will not win this battle today. He already knows.

They would be better served gaining favor from an individual in power and learning more before making any decisions about who or who is not right in this city. More than that, they have seen in Taravast what can happen if they become too involved in the upheaval of a government on a vulnerable population - not that he regrets finding out the truth and exposing the leader as he did.

"We should continue to keep Arabella safe and aid in her escape."

Emilia has already become formidable in her own right even with most of her power still leashed, and Wrath can do plenty of damage without a weapon in sight. His grip remains on her as he teleports them closer, and when he comes out of it, he lifts a hand to block one of the group's rogue mechanical hounds from biting into Arabella's guards and tosses it into its master's chest.

They both fly backward.

Emilia considers his words, though there isn't all that much time. Where she prefers to think of every angle before making a move, indecision is the enemy in times like these. She'll never forget the siege of Taravast — the destabilisation that occurred as a result of an impulsive and reckless decision, however justified the reason. Arabella is indeed a powerful ruler in her own right, deserving of accountability as any other if not more — and she may also possesses the vital information they seek as a member of the government.

She thinks of the crushed bodies she grimly rode past while luring the Huntress with her fire. Thinks of Karsa's face, the half of it that catches light so silver and odd. Decides that yes, Arabella will not die today.

Holding on to Wrath, well aware she'll be whisked away, Emilia prepares her next move. Half-emerges from the black-and-gold wisps of his shadows with a hand raised. She focuses on the rogue agent next to the one that flies backward alongside its... pet. The spell is vicious enough it burns her lips when whispering its verbal component, invisible claws swiping at his hands and wrists —

Until the sudden pain forces them to drop their weapon. She kicks it further away from them.

Edited 2022-08-22 23:23 (UTC)

Another of the Remembrance group aims toward Arabella's guard and group as they make their way through the path Wrath and Emilia have cut through in the crowd. Wrath sees it and rushes forward, grabbing the man's arm from beside. Ordinarily, he would never use the powers he has to override the choice of another unless it is for training purposes, but this particular group has shown they do not care about making many mortals feel fear against their will, controlling them in that way.

This is the reason mortals should not be granted this power.

A whisper in his ear, command more than temptation: "You're much too tired to continue on. Lay down."

He wraps his power around the sin of sloth inside of him, calling it forward, until it the individual does as he says, lying his body down upon the ground as if overcome with exhaustion.

It gives the guards the space they need to get out. Run, Arabella, run.

They aren't the only ones moved to act, and it does make a difference.

A shield of sorts is what they become, moving in tandem with the guards escorting Arabella out of the Sanctuary upon finding a reliable route. Screams have subsided, but nowhere near enough, and attendants move toward them to return their weapons with shaking hands. If nothing else, Emilia is comforted by the weight of her dagger's hilt, fingers wrapping tight around it. She'll continue to use her sleep spell where she sees it needed, albeit judiciously: a body collapsed that can be body trampled.

Her heart thuds too loud in her ears still, her eyes moving quickly over the room once more to scan it, to identify members from their group within the frantic crowd. To determine if any of them are among the ones wounded.

Frightened.

There are those still determined to claw their way out of the Sanctuary, its doors blown wide open. From this distance, she can't see it so clearly, but she does notice: the thickness of a fog that clouds all else. "Wrath — "

Wrath senses the fog before he sees it.

The magic rolls within the smoky clouds obscuring vision. The magic of it signals it is dangerous in some way. He watches the people nearest to it start to become confused, start to fall over and sleep. He nods, reaching for her arm once more. The length of his palm slides along the whole of it, and in an instant, they are gone again.

The smoke and gold left in their wake as they are removed from the area where the danger remains.

It doesn't seem like the group intended on killing anyone. They wanted to strike fear, but the question is- why? It's no mystery which can be immediately solved.

They have to leave to their respective halves of the city, but Wrath finds himself reluctant to do so following what just occurred. His shoulders gather tension once more.

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valeas - 2022-08-24 20:15 (UTC) - Expand

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inferus - 2022-08-27 01:33 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

serthica: war & peace

closed for emilia.

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matching iconssss

the aesthetics are most pleasing to me

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