Court of the Fallen
[KQ] change the tides - Printable Version

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change the tides - Deimos - 08-06-2019

Finally, they pressed towards the tower again – purposeful, adamant, determined. These movements and motions weren’t for the sanctity of searching, of dividing, of counting their way into portals or diving headfirst into other means or measures. Their footfalls were sure and certain, imminent, grasping for destruction, for devastation, for ruin amidst the ruins – clambering for the death of noxious plants and vehement fumes.

It wasn’t to say he wasn’t without apprehension; he’d maneuvered in here what felt like lifetimes before, choking, grasping for air, scathing and reeling on diabolical wounds, aiding and hunting for an ancient creature that in the end, hadn’t wanted to live, and had sent down a goddess to be scorched. But the goals were simpler now, and they were better prepared. The columns appearance as they came closer and closer were enough to chisel and snake a coil of trepidation down his spine – not for himself, but for those assembled beside him, united for the same goal, for the same stars.

But he had faith in them, in their abilities, in their talents, in their codes, in their honor. And he’d try until he fell apart, to ensure they all made it back in one piece.

They were stronger now.

When they reached the opening, the gaping holes, and then the crumbled stairwell, with its pockets and shards of memories, he stopped the advance, gave them all a moment to strategize, to gather themselves together. Zuriel, wandered from his side, lingered along the threshold, ardent and calm, sending out waves of composure and assuaging fervency; it kept him from shaking, from recoiling, from sending them away, all too courageous. He grabbed ahold of his bag, gifted by the alchemist, and pulled out the gas masks, previously assembled, better suited to the task. He handed one out to each of them, imploring them to put it on before they wandered down into hell, into the basement. The rest of the containments included food, water, ropes, and netting; already lit torches in his hand, passed around to anyone who wanted one.

The warrior’s eyes flickered to the amulet resting at the bottom, pulling that out too, previously meant for fire, but infused with his life drain magic instead, giving it to Amalia with a passing glance.

Then his gaze flickered to each one of them, and broke over the silence. [say]“The unicorns will stay here, along the stairs. If you ever need any healing, go directly to them. If you ever need to leave, do not hesitate.”[/say] No one was going to die here, sunk and mired down by a bunch of plants. No one was going to be considered a fool if the threat became too real, too hopeless, too drastic, too binding. [say]“If we cannot clear all of them out now, we can always come back another time.”[/say] But if they were mighty enough, powerful enough, then perhaps this would be the only moment – and they could put a damper on the blight’s spread.

He paused, waited, for more plans, for any questions, for any concerns, before placing the mask along his head, letting it rest over the brim, to be pulled down when they proceeded. An echo crooned, solidified the elements they were about to render and face. [say]“Ready?”[/say]

---

This is a magic user (or for anyone wielding/implementing magic) plot advancing PQ! Please make sure to list out anything you’re bringing with you, grab a gas mask, and proceed with any plans/questions you may have! I would love to get this thing rolling along within 48 hours.

1. Remi
2. Ashetta
3. Ronin
4. Amalia


RE: change the tides - Ashetta - 08-06-2019

   This wasn't the first time Ashe found herself staring down the spire, and she had the sinking feeling that it wouldn't be the last. There was little room for anything but hatred when she looked upon it, all it stood for, all she had been through in the shadow of the Spire. Apprehension curled in her gut like an asp ready to strike, but she kept her feet planted, her shoulders back. She'd entered this blackened tower once to save her brother. She'd do it a million times over.

   Ronin stood with her this time, though. And Remi. She looked up at them both, something tight uncoiling a little in her chest. It would be different this time. No one would die, she told herself. They would find answers, and no one would die.

   Ashe looked to Amalia and Deimos, both newer acquaintances, and both welcomed additions of support through this. Strong people, all of them. The wolf fit her own gas mask over her head, adjusted her royal blue cloak, and rolled her shoulders. Sword fitted to her back, fully geared in her black suit, daggers, and knives, always ready to free the wolf... yeah. She was ready. [Say]"Ready to fucking figure this out,"[/say] she muttered, and her hands suddenly lit up and crackled with wild lightning.


RE: change the tides - Remi - 08-06-2019

Remi was mostly silent on the trek over. So much seemed to be resting on this that the alchemist's mind was as weighed down as his shoulders seemed to be, slumped and tense as they were. He hadn't brought much with him, there was no need really. Power at his fingertips to create almost anything he wanted, except for the one thing that truly mattered: a cure for Ronin.

Isla took her place next to Zuriel, nostril's flaring silently at the mention of returning to the unicorns for healing. Her pebble-blue eyes were calm despite the turmoil. Once upon a time, she'd been a combat medic after all, and she was well-trained to find calm amidst the storm.

They could come back another time Deimos was saying. Only..only the amount of another times that Ronin had left were dwindling far faster than any of them knew.

Unlike Ashe who wore her confidence as brightly as her lightning, the alchemist remained silent, his shattered sea-glass stare focused but his expression withdrawn.


RE: change the tides - Ronin - 08-07-2019

Was Ronin ready? Debatable. Was he strong enough? Also debatable. Was he doing this anyway?

Duh.

This time death was sand in an hourglass that ticked steadily closer, rather than white hot pain and the roar of a detonation, and there was something about that eventuality that made him walk a little easier, smile a little brighter. So as they headed for the Spire, Ronin seemed perhaps more cheerful than anything. Better than he had been in some time. Because at least now they were doing something.

Emmett's axe was slung over his shoulder, held by a leather strap, and he fastened his gas mask around his face as they drew to a halt before the column. Sugar he sent to stay with the unicorns, able to use her for a messenger if nothing else should times get dire. "Hopefully this time I make it past the stairs," he murmured.


RE: change the tides - Amalia - 08-07-2019

Amalia, too, is quiet and pensive, trying not to dwell on the danger ahead. She is not afraid - not for herself - but the idea of going back into the Spire has kept her awake through the long night, her mind howling with anxiety and turmoil as she thinks and re-thinks about what she needs, what she will bring and how she will ready herself for the onslaught that waits in the dark. How will she protect them when she has nothing but a shield full of fire and the claws of a cat?

How will she protect herself?

Armed and armored with a shield of fire and a staff of crimson, the baker and the starwhale joins the group with silent resolution and adamant eyes, looking between them without saying a word. Jyoti coos a subdued greeting, flying gently past Ronin and Remi before settling lightly on Deimos' neck. Her black eyes follow, and she slips toward the behemoth, her hand reaching out to slip into his, a soft squeeze, their fingers ghosting as amulets and unsaid things are exchanged.

Then she steps back, giving him space, listening closely and letting him lead. [say]"My staff can heal as well,"[/say] she murmurs, her only contribution to the discussion before the mask is strapped over her face. Jyoti hovers at her shoulder - unlike the other companions she will not stay behind, but will linger at the bottom of the stairs in case her magic is needed again. Closing her eyes, she lets out a prayer: Vi, please guide us, so we can save Safrin. Mort, please guard us and keep us from your light.


RE: change the tides - Deimos - 08-07-2019

Quiet determination and the sense of unease flickered and filtered back to him; Ashe the most ardent, fervent, and he swallowed down the smile threatening to barrel over his lips at her confidence, at her convictions. Someone had to have them – and he thought to root his ambitions there, to figure this out, to devastate, to destroy, to eradicate the mess contorting over their frameworks, their livelihoods, their people. His eyes ghosted over Remi, hushed too, Ronin with his murmurs about stairs, and then Amalia. Jyoti settled on his shoulders before going to the baker’s, a gentle croon, less singsong and more soothing, more assuaging, and they were bent and broken things again.

But trying. They were trying. They were doing something other than wallowing, other than staring into the abyss.

His stare segmented on her staff, a portion of what kept him alive on the last journey. He hoped it would serve her well; and then segmented his gaze to Zuriel, a nod, a confirmation, as she stood beside Isla, a proud little bob of her head in response.

Then he hastened the gas mask over his face, covering his features, his nose, his mouth, picked everything back up again, the weapons at his belt, the bag on his back, the burdens on his spine, the magic at his fingertips, malicious and brooding, gliding within his veins.

Ready they announced and proclaimed.

So he said nothing (everything had already been mustered, proclaimed, on the edges of their apprehension, on the sizzling notes of their determination), and led the way down the stairs, back into venom and the unknown, stepping onto rubble and stone, picking up ashes along the way.

--

Head on down the stairs!

Amalia Remi Ronin Ashetta


RE: change the tides - Remi - 08-07-2019

With a grim smile, the alchemist turned his gaze towards his husband. [say]"You will not get another engagement if you slip and fall this time."[/say] He said with a smile on his lips that did not quite reach his shattered stare. I love you, that look instead said. Taking a breath, Remi placed the mask he and Deimos had jointly created over his face, pulling in a breath that tasted of earth.

Better than poison. For now.

There were no gods to pray to, none that cared about him or who could help where they were going, and so instead whatever silent pleas the alchemist might have made he merely swallowed down instead as he followed Deimos down the stairs.


RE: change the tides - Ashetta - 08-07-2019

   Everyone was ready. Ashe soothed her lightning down to its quiet hisses and snaps along her arms, dancing between her fingers. Every nerve was alight with the energy, on fire without pain. Alive. Her heart thundered in time with it as she affectionately bumped her shoulders between both Remi and Ronin . She nodded to Amalia, to Deimos, dropping her gas mask down around her face.

   She hadn't let herself think of where she was going until she stood at the top of the stairs. She had gone up last time, and deliberately. Now darkness pooled below, winding down into the earth. Her racing heart took a new kind of energy, sparks rippling across her shoulders like the bristled hackles of a wolf.

   This was for Ronin, she reminded herself. For Remi, and Aoife. For their family. She took a slow breath, glancing at Ronin who perhaps was the only one besides Kalt to ever bear witness to her struggles underground. One look at him, the brother pulled back down from the stars, and legs that didn't feel like her own carried her down into the dark.


RE: change the tides - Amalia - 08-07-2019

This is her third time descending these stairs, her third time falling into oblivion, her third time chasing gas and ghosts and plummeting down into the dark. And though she is stronger, better equipped, though she knows her purpose and her companions and her goals- though Amalia is brave and ardent and enthralled, she is also terrified, woefully afraid, for herself, for her friends, for her goddess, for her world.

Sending a mental pulse to Remi (and a smaller one to Ashetta, who she does not know well but who her friends trust, a spitfire in a pint-sized shell), Amalia nods to Ronin and Deimos, staring out from inside the confines of the earthy, claustrophobic mask.

One by one they fall into line: Deimos first, her beacon, her sword, the stalwart guide through the inky darkness, and she wishes he could feel her mind, the tumultuous waves of admiration and adoration. Remi, the lion, her gentle friend, sunny despite all storm and shadow, open and honest and close without words, suddenly dear, suddenly kin. Ashetta, the assassin, who until scarcely over a week ago Amalia had though to be an enemy, her threats against Rory infuriating and frightening (the first time, the first time, and oh how things have changed since then-), now an unlikely ally, another lost soul.

And then there is Ronin. Ronin, the dying. Ronin, the king. Ronin, whose love of Safrin rivals her own, who Amalia somehow understands, who she feels safer being herself around than any of them, because in some strange way they are cut from the same fabric, made from the same flaws and mistakes. [say]"After you, your majesty,"[/say] Amalia murmurs, wry and dry behind her mask, gesturing for him to lead the way. [say]"If you fall down again Remi will kill me."[/say]

Amalia falls in behind the starboy, the last in a silent line of doomed souls.


RE: change the tides - Ronin - 08-08-2019

[say]"Boo,"[/say] Ronin said with a coy smile, winking at Remi and pretending to wince dramatically as Ashe bumped her shoulder against his. Of course, not a moment later they were trundling their way down towards their doom, so perhaps this was not the time for such lightheartedness.

Wouldn't stop Ronin, though. He was dying - that was his excuse. [say]"Oh ha ha,"[/say] he said haughtily to Amalia, folding his arms and leaning casually against the outside of the entrance way. (He made sure he wouldn't accidentally slip and fall just by doing that). [say]"I will be just fine, thank you."[/say]

So saying, he took a deep, slow breath and willed his astral self into life beside Remi, following him down into the deep dark. It wouldn't be dark for long, at least - Ronin's astral form lit up with starlight not a moment later; upstairs, the real deal was thinking hard about keeping his loved ones safe, an emotion that easily sparked the starlight.


RE: change the tides - Court Official - 08-08-2019

Ready for more? Because it went so well the last time?

As you wish.

The basement is more or less as you left it, save for the gaping hole that now leads directly up several hundred feet to the open portion at the top of the Spire. Rubble is strewn about, the columns appear unsteady and the constant sound of rushing water is still present. The yellowish and putrid gases still hang heavily in the air, and the blackened plants await ominous and silent.




Oops you did it again! Your randomly rolled initiative order is: Ronin, Deimos, Amalia, Remi, Ashe. You have 48 hours to reply.


RE: change the tides - Ronin - 08-08-2019

The world beneath the Spire was quiet and ominous, punched through with light from where Safrin fell. Ronin paused for a moment outside the cavern, still softly glowing, even his astral form seeming subdued and at a loss. [say]"So this is what I missed last time,"[/say] he murmured. [say]"I... stay here. I can pass through objects here, so hopefully I'll not disturb the plants..."[/say]

So saying, the hunter stepped forward - as much as one can 'step' when one is nothing but a spirit form. He moved further into the chamber, vision obscured by the thick gas, but as he walked he could pick out the plants here and there. [say]"They are everywhere - it would be impossible not to disturb them,"[/say] he called back. [say]"I think our best bet is getting in a position to ignite the gas before we go further inside - it would do some damage to the plants, I think, and then we can start to go to town on them."[/say]

Circling back, he emerged at the entrance once more. [say]"If there's any way to shift the gas, too, or direct it away from us and towards the plantlife, I'd suggest doing it now. It doesn't need saying, but as soon as this happens, we need to be on it. If we lose focus..."[/say] He shrugged. He didn't need to say it.


RE: change the tides - Deimos - 08-08-2019

It was much the same, except for the massive hole, an aperture, where goddesses had fallen – his eyes taking in remnants of insecure columns, steps slow, careful, meticulous, intending not to disturb anything before they’d concocted and plotted their schemes. The familiarity of the ominous center was an apprehensive gesture on its own; curling against his spine as the rushing water rippled against his ears, the torches in his hands allowing for a display of the blackened plants: scenes of previous and possible, pending disasters.

Ronin’s astral projection was an intriguing invocation – his gaze widened a fraction behind the gas mask, but he said naught as the King began inspecting, moving further from them, and he listened, for any insight, for any advice, for anything other than running straight into peril (hadn’t they already done that?).

The only consternation he had with the sagacity, since they lacked a wind user, was the notion of igniting. The torches might be capable, and Ashe’s crackling lightning, but it was the possible explosion that lent him some trepidation – caught in it before. He handed each of them a torch (save for the projected, spiritual form of Ronin), to do with as they pleased, to light their way or flare into the abyss, but his words were cautious. [say]“Last time the fire likely mixed with the gas, and caused an explosion.”[/say] If they stood back and hurled the flames, would it make a difference?

His gaze maneuvered back to Ashe. [say]“Perhaps your lightning magic can start an inferno. We can take cover,”[/say] and then he looked, along the unsteady stones, the wobbly columns, the series of circumstances and artifacts that could either be useful or treacherous. [say]“Remi, could you maneuver some of these rocks to make a sort of shield? Or fortification?”[/say] If the components were large enough, sturdy enough, would they be safe to hide behind them, in case of any pending assault, siege, or eruption? He worried the smaller stones would become projectiles under immense force, vitriol wreckage and debris.


RE: change the tides - Amalia - 08-08-2019

She tries not to look up as they descend, the great gaping hole that tears through the spire leaving her mouth dry and her stomach heavy with dread. Late at night she's laid awake, staring at the stars and wondering, agonizing, dreading and hating herself for what might have been if only she had not asked what she asked. If only she allowed the tulmhainar to die in the dark, would Safrin be well? Would Ronin? Would the blight be better contained?

Gripping her staff she shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. There is a time for guilt, for drowning in sorrow. That time is not now. Now is the time for redemption, for purpose, for reforging broken things and trying, trying, yet again.

As the rest draw to a stop Amalia does too, looking around with eyes changed to an owl's, the better to pierce through lingering gloom. To the torch the girl shakes her head, raising the glowing staff in response: she has light already, and fire as well, and would rather not invite scorching and burns. She listens to Ronin's suggestions, listens to Deimos' wise reply, and wishes she had more to give, that she could contribute something concrete. To shield themselves is a good idea, but they cannot clear the air from their area first, unless...

Biting her lip, Amalia speaks. [Say]"The shield is a good idea. It protected us last time, when Delah did it. What if... What if those of us with wings try to blow some of the gas away first? Like this, see..."[/say]

So speaking Amalia leans her staff on a wall and her shield beside it before shifting her body carefully, arms contorting and feathers growing until she wields wings, not large enough to fly or have any purpose, but larger by far than the small owl's. Stepping forward Amalia beats her feathered appendages, trying to force the air and gas away, to create a haven, small as it may be, for Remi to shield them in.



Ama tries to blow some of the gas away from them with people-sized wings.