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ximilialog2023-01-29 02:10 pm
- ! event log,
- ace attorney: ryunosuke naruhodo,
- adventure time: finn mertens,
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- red vs blue: felix,
- star wars: cassian andor,
- the old guard: andromache,
- wheel of time: rand al'thor,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: THE DIE IS CAST, PART 2
● ● ● M I S S I O N 1 1 . 2
Dawn breaks over the court in grey skies, clouds drooping sadly over the horizon, as Finn (and whoever he has managed to get to train with him that day) arrives at the Knights’ Guild… and meets the beaming face of Jun Shortaxe. It is clear that the depressing weather is not dampening his spirits.
His voice booms brightly over the Guild’s courtyard, but he seems to think better of the volume as his next words are quieter, only for the Orbers to hear.
And indeed, when the next day comes with the sun finally peeking out behind the veil of clouds, it is not only Jun waiting for the Orbers but also Alena Ironspear, decked in full armour, and the Great Mulgrowe, hooded and deep in conversation with a bird.
When it seems that all Orbers are present, Jun urges his horse forward and raises his hand in greeting.
Next to him, Alena nods.
The Great Mulgrowe nods below his hood, eyes slowly opening. He pulls back the fabric to reveal the scaled countenance of a dragonborn druid.
MULGROWE
When next Jun speaks, it is with a gravitas that he seemed to lack before.
Hopefully you were ready to leave at once, as the former members of the Songbird Brigade don’t wait for long — it is within the next few moments that the group is split up into three, with each party heading off to their separate directions.
After some quick decisions on who to go with, and some even quicker good-byes, the groups are all ready to go — and so, with Jun, Alena, and the Great Mulgrowe wishing each other good luck, they each take their newly-formed party and get ready to travel: Jun by the roads, the Great Mulgrowe out in the wilderness, and Alena with the aid of Rahiel’s temples and teleportation.
1.0 Those following Jun Shortaxe will find that the roads that lead from Alydhion to South Naelor are well maintained, so whether you are on horseback or have chosen to put your feet to good use by walking, there won’t be too many rocks in your shoe by the end of the day. As you travel, you may hear Jun humming to himself, in a tone that’s actually not bad:
Follow the road
Rich or poor,
Your troubles unload
The path will take you
Stronger it will make you
The adventure that awaits!
So close the door,
Follow the road
Rich or poor,
Sing with me this ode
To whatever the fates
have in store for you!
The tone of the travelling song is catchy, and perhaps you'll want to join in (and learn another song that the illustrious commander of the Ximilia has composed).
As the road is long and darkness falls quickly in the evening, you are required to make camp — so find a good spot on the side of the road, set up your campfire, and spread your bedding around… or, if you’re not a fan of staying under the open sky and watching the stars, you can always try and find a thicket of trees to stay under, or a cave where you’ll be safe from any sudden downpours.
2.0 The journey through the Forests of Gha’har throws you into the middle of wilderness, away from the comfort of roads: instead, the Great Mulgrowe will lead his group through thick bushes, over fallen tree trunks, and under the canopies of the tall, old trees of the forest whose presence seems almost oppressive. There are moments when you may look around and feel as if everyone around you has disappeared; moments when the trees rustle above you with a quiet, menacing sound… only for it to be broken by the trill of a bird, or perhaps a druid friend among your party, settling the trees once more.
Eventually, you will hear it: the unmistakable sound of water. From behind the trees, you see the river gleaming in the sunlight like a silver snake, twisting this way and that as it flows towards Naelori Lake. This means that you have finally made it out of the Forests, and traveling by the riverside is a nice change in scenery… at least until you’re required to cross the river in order to make it to South Naelor. Well — better be ready to get your feet wet, or figure out an alternate way of crossing the river with dry shoes!
3.0 Whereas Jun and the Great Mulgrowe lead their respective groups immediately towards South Naelor, Alena takes hers back to Harsby; the reason for that becomes apparent when right outside the borough, a beautiful temple surrounded by flowering vines comes into view. It is the temple of Rahiel, and Alena explains to the group that she is only able to teleport so many people from one temple to another — and the one closest to the ruins of South Naelor lies at the mouth the Gulf of Ifyln.
It is almost as soon as everyone has stepped inside the temple, its walls decorated with paintings of the Seven Sisters, that Alena claps her hands together and a golden light envelopes you… and the next moment, you smell the sea air, and feel the cool breeze blowing your hair. When you open your eyes, feeling a little disoriented, you see the steep cliffs that line the coast from the open temple.
The cliffs don’t persist for long, though, and Alena quickly leads the group to the shore, where a small ship awaits them: just large enough to fit all of them below deck, you best hope you’ve got those among you who know how to raise the sails and steer the ship through the tides… and lower the anchor when it’s time to stop for the night. At least you’ll have a cosy rest in the ship’s cabins, or on the deck watching the stars.
However, don’t get too attached to your little ship: soon enough the river becomes too shallow, requiring you to make the rest of the way on foot.
However, the journey to S. Naelor isn’t without its challenges. The skies above might seem to darken one day, the heavy clouds splitting at their seams to let out a torrential downpour. You and your group might also stumble into the wrong place at the wrong time, not uncommon for many parties that travel through (and across) the boroughs. Whether by foot or on horseback, it would be wise to keep your senses alert and your weapon close. A battle of some nature is never too far away.
4.0 Past the crest of gently rolling hills you might hear the sudden rapid stomping of hooves against dirt as a party of bandit orcs on horseback appear, their shrill cries meant to scare and alarm you. Seek a place for cover or meet them with full force, weapons at the ready — if you’re traveling with Jun Shortaxe, he won’t be far behind, expression steeled into one of strength and determination. Within the thick, lush foliage of the Forests of Gha’har, if you’re traveling with the Great Mulgrowe, you may encounter winged bat-like creatures in the trees that squawk and cry as they fly out to attack you. Mind their sharp claws and sharper teeth — and anyone with the ability to communicate with creatures might want to utilize their skills to placate the flurry. Finally, steering the small ship on the river past Rahiel’s temple may seem quiet at first, but past the temple’s walls and emerging from the Gulf of Ifyln, winged kelpies appear to have caught wind of your group’s presence. Alena Ironspear will fearlessly lead the charge but she’ll need your help to keep the winged kelpies at bay and continue your journey northwards to Fort Gorlouch.
5.0 Along the way, whether through grassy plains and grey skies, the darkness of trees and thick foliage, or the sandy coast and the salty ocean waters, some of your party will experience some obstacles and immunities specific to their chosen race and form. Unnatural phenomena and sudden spots of darkness and flame appear to pop up like a presence following close behind.
If you suddenly become shrouded in a strange, thick fog, you’ll hear haunting voices and see visions of malevolent creatures all around you. You might try and swing your weapon forward as the voices command you to defeat every last creature trying to crowd in on you — but only your human party members will see what you can’t and will need to snap you out of the presence currently trying to control your mind, persuading you to attack your own friends and fellow crew.
While there is no shortage of dangers to be found no matter what path you travel, it might seem that there is something intentionally challenging your journey through South Naelor. While it is easy enough to take up your weapon against a stray bandit or wild creature (to some degree, anyway), it is much harder to cast off an avalanche of boulders from the nearby cliff edges, or to catch a fallen tree trunk that aims to block you and your path. Call on the orc-kind in your party to help, as their superior strength will allow them to swat boulders away like flies, or catch heavy tree trunks in mid-fall.
Some of you might find when you try to start a campfire, either during the day or the evening, for warmth or for cooking, that the flames might appear to grow hotter and larger than usual. Keep the fire going for too long and you’ll be (un)pleasantly surprised by the sudden voracious appetite the flame has for the measly kindle you have collected. It spreads and seems to grow into a predatory form that can only be challenged by those with an immunity to fire. Your tiefling companions will be able to tame and put out the fire before it does any more damage than singe your bedroll and turn your dinner to charcoal.
In the evening when the last of the daylight has disappeared past the horizon, the darkness may feel thicker, even blacker. For most of you it will seem difficult, almost impossible to see; you won’t even be able to see your hands before you. Only the dwarves in your group, possessing dark vision, will be able to decipher your surroundings and guide you to a safe place to wait out the darkness before it passes. (And thankfully, like a passing shadow, it won’t last for too long.)
Even your Brigade leaders appear to be having difficulty at moments. It will be more important than ever to chip in when you can and keep your fellow team members afloat as you trek through this perilous part of the journey towards the fortress. But one thing is clear at least: you’re getting closer.
6.0 It isn’t difficult to guess that the path to South Naelor is one less traveled — the dirt road is crude and beaten down by wagon wheels, hoof-prints, and feet but there isn’t much else around for miles. Aside from the random attacks from bandits and hungry creatures, and the strange happenings, there are also the natural elements to contend with.
Windstorms, rainstorms, and the changes in temperature (generally warmer in the day, cooler during evenings) are common in this part of the land being situated between the ocean waters and too far away from the shelter of Ffuren and the Jolnora Peaks. The plains experience heavy monsoons of rain at times, and with trees so far and few between it can get cold in the nights. The tides can rise, taking in a large part of the beach by the coastline, making it too easy to be swept into the water if one is not careful enough. Rain isn’t uncommon in the Forests of Gha’har either, and may require brief moments of shelter under the large leaves of the trees to escape getting soaked. The best thing to do during these moments is to find a cave or shelter of some sort and wait it out, catch up on some sleep, or once again go over your plans for when you arrive at Fort Gorlouch.
They say that it’s more about the journey than the destination, but sometimes it really is a relief to arrive where you want to be. The gates to South Naelor appear on the horizon in the form of long stone ramparts and large towers. Only ... these gates appear to be in serious need of repair, the walls partially broken, chunks of stone missing, and wooden posts hacked in half, leaving crude sharpened points directed at the sky. S. Naelor appears to be a court that had once seen better and brighter days, and it isn't hard to think that the court of Alydhion itself might one day see a future like this one. It is unclear whether this once majestic court had always been in decline or if this is a more recent event. Whatever the case may be, there’s only one way to find out … it’s time to ride forward.
7.0 The travels might begin to feel like they’re taking a toll on you but you and your party finally arrive — and in mostly good spirits, too. South Naelor as it stands feels nothing like the court of Alydhion, which seems so vibrant and alive by comparison. If anything, it is a court now mostly in ruin, an artifact in the history of this world. Over the centuries, nature has reclaimed some of the built structures, and rivers have carved wide canals through the land, connecting to the Gulf of Ifyln. Without needing to be told by your former Songbird Brigade leader, you might already begin to feel the prickle of goosebumps along your skin, or the hair rise at the back of your neck. It’s that sensation of expecting something dangerous that will keep you alert as the three groups converge just before Fort Gorlouch. The Great Mulgrowe bows his head in Alena and Jun’s direction, and Jun nods, opening his mouth as though to address the crew at large.
But just before he can speak, deep and guttural growls fill the quiet air from somewhere within the old fortress walls followed by the sudden blinking of bright light as though there are doors opening and closing to let these unwanted guests through. Claws frantically click and scratch against stone as the lanky greyish-white furred creatures, long-limbed and snarling with venomous teeth, rush out to meet the teams.
Alena’s eyes widen as she swears under her breath.
One of the patchy-furred beasts rises on its hind legs atop one of the half-battered ramparts and howls into the sky, commanding all of its brethren. One does not need to be a druid to understand their message: they mean to attack, and they mean to kill you.
MULGROWE
Next to the Great Mulgrowe, Jun squares his shoulders, a determined look in his eyes.
As if in response to these words, without hesitation, Alena seems to compose herself as though falling back into the old habits of their former party. She turns towards the Orbers, gripping her sword tightly in her hand.
The moment Jun hangs back to stand his ground, the Dremnin start to crowd forward, followed by all other manner of beast: some recognizable, and others that are unfamiliar, like a new kind of beast this world hasn’t seen. You’ll have to fight your way through some of these beasts to keep moving forward in search of the heirloom as Jun takes care of the brunt of it from behind.
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• A voting post regarding the conclusion will go up on February 10.
• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪
no subject
Says who, you? You're not a doctor. You don't know--
[Whatever frustrated resistance Finn had to Itachi's first statement, the second one hits home. The time for discussion and planning was long done, surrounding fighting growing louder and more fierce as the warlocks begin executing their sleep spell and fire rained down over the field. As many answers as Finn wanted, however urgently he wanted them, it all faded to background noise in the face of the very real danger they faced were they to stay put.]
Ugh, okay, let's--[Finn moves fast, hoisting Itachi up to his staggering feet long enough to lay the man against his back. He wasn't a particularly tall person -- Itachi had over half a foot on him easily -- but what Finn lacked in height he made up for in muscle and sheer will.] Let's go.
[It wasn't a clean lift, Itachi's feet practically skimming the ground as Finn trudged them toward the treeline. Blood oozed into the his shirt and hair, ensuring his back would be stained as brightly as the dremnin blood coating his front. They must look quite the picture, stumbling to questionable safety. Finn's grits his teeth from exertion, only lowering Itachi down when he's sure they were no longer in Jun's sight range.]
There. [He gasps, upon accomplishing the extremely awkward task of lowering a much-larger man, and doing so gently. Now unencumbered, Finn's nervous energy had nowhere to focus its anxious tendrils. He immediately begins to pace, mentally scanning through the crew for someone who could get to them.] We have to call someone. Dr. McCoy, or--or Sabriel, someone.
[Finn does just that, sending out a blast to every healer in the area -- a simple SOS and their location -- but the task is accomplished too quickly to have a calming effect. Finn begins pacing faster, avoiding looking at where Itachi now lay.]
Ngh, why did you do that, man!? If this is another jacked up game...
no subject
（ it's the first thing he's said aloud, a low choke of his voice, breathlessness woven around it like a tangled snarl of ivy. sabriel is competent, and kind, but he trusts her with no part of himself — much less vulnerability. but even those words are exhaustive, and there is a deadened weakness in his limbs that warns him against pushing himself further. even just the act of being halfly dragged was exhausting in and of itself.
I informed Gwen. She will be on the way with McCoy shortly.
but he does not, perhaps pointedly, answer that why. ）
no subject
[The muttered frustration isn't meant for Itachi so much as the situation at large. The man's unspoken insistence that Gwen and McCoy would be on their way -- to help him, obviously, was Finn's only thought as to the reason -- slows the teenager's frenetic pacing, but does little to quell his fidgeting.]
You should stay awake. [Finn announces, abruptly, pulling the knowledge less from the field and more half-rotted VHS cassettes of old cop shows. The officers were always getting hit on the head and dramatically clasped by their partners, begged to stay with me, buddy. Finn wasn't about to do that, not when even looking at Itachi's bloodied chest turns his stomach, but he could at least do something until the real help arrived. He had to.] Keep sending me messages or something. Like--like your favorite color or your least favorite food or, I dunno, why you jumped in front of a dragon to save me when you hate me--
[Finn squeezes his flesh and blood hand into a tight fist, willing himself to stop. The adrenaline of moments before comingled with Finn's memories of the last time they'd done this song and dance. The entire thing was sending his compassion out of whack. He breathes hard, digging that fist into his forehead in an attempt to center himself.]
Just--yeah. Favorite color. Text it to me.
no subject
I don't hate you.
（ it's said in a murmur, barely audible over the distant din of combat and dragonfire. it's important to say aloud.
he's been too long a shinobi not to bear an awareness of his own mortality. if mccoy does not arrive in time, if he's already exhausted his magics, if the dragon circles back — he may well die. he should ensure the boy knows the truth, at least. but the strength of speech is exhausted, and he switches back to text:
You were not listening to me. I wanted you to understand.
and then, after a moment: Blue. ）
1/2
All Finn allowed himself now was a memory of the memory; the warped funhouse mirror reflection of what they'd said to one another taking on new life in his head. To look at Itachi head on now, that would mean removing bricks from the wall. Finn couldn't have that. The twisted reflection in his head was the only Itachi that existed for him; a man who took great pleasure at seeing him in pain, who found it all so terribly funny to watch him scramble, who had probably planned all of this just to prove some stupid point...
The Itachi in his head certainly would never sound like that; creaking, strange, unrecognizable words now wheezing out of the man.
The Itachi in his head certainly didn't share his favorite color.
The Itachi in his head could never, ever be sorry...]
2/2
Favorite food?
no subject
Yamitsuki. comes the first answer. then, clarifying: Salt cabbage.
Or dango. Sweet rice dumplings. ）
no subject
When Itachi gasps, Finn's eyes briefly dart to him on instinct. He was ashy, too. Blue.]
Got any siblings?
[The parody of small talk comes out tight through his clenched jaw as Finn whirls around, looking anxiously back the way they'd come. He was desperate to see any sign of Gwen or Dr. McCoy, or maybe just desperate to look elsewhere.]
no subject
instead: Help me get the armour off. It will be easier for McCoy. he texts it even as he's reaching for the buckles on his right side, fingers blood-slick as he tries to prise them apart. his vision dips to darkness, and a sheen of cold sweat breaks out across his skin. he can taste the salt of it on his lips, and he is desperately, distractingly thirsty. it's enough that his hand falls away from the buckles and flickers towards the canteen at his hip instead. long fingers curl in against his palm at the halfway point, stopped as an act of will. the worst part of any injury to him has never been the pain, but the way it frays his focus, splits it in a thousand different ways, curled like the filaments of a tapestry on fire.
he is running out of time, this body's weakness on salient display.
his next message is to mccoy, a full accounting of the injuries he's aware of, the placement and depth of the clawmarks, the ribs he suspects are broken, the estimate of blood he's lost. it's short, clinical. and it's the last thing he's aware of doing before nothingness unhinges her jaw and swallows him whole. ）
no subject
Shit,〈 follows her professional diagnosis.
without wasting time, she sinks down next to itachi's supine form. from her bag she rips out the first aid kit. she snaps on the gloves before removing what remains of his armor. she barks orders with the quick, clinical efficiency of experience—don't move him, take this, apply pressure here—even as her heart lives in her mouth, in her ears. tears sting her eyes as she checks his breathing (shallow) and heart rate (too rapid), which she furiously blinks back. gwen all but empties the container of coagulant spray on his injuries before motioning for finn to cover itachi with the mylar blanket. the gauze she laid upon the worst of the injuries is soaked through by that time, but she keeps up a steady pressure, mentally preparing herself to start cpr the moment it becomes necessary. 〉
If you die from this, 〈 she warns, knowing he cannot hear her, 〉 I will tell everyone Uchiha Itachi is actually a little punk-ass bitch.
〈 as she works, venom curls beside itachi, its body lying gently alongside the neck where his pulse is strongest. the slender head investigates his nose every so often for evidence of breathing. otherwise, it presses against his cheek. gwen is not privy to its telepathic communications, but she can imagine what it shares: more images; more stories to fill his mind. 〉
no subject
Finn obediently does whatever is asked of him, mostly holding things, providing a second set of hands where she needed them, and staying out of the way. Itachi now unresponsive, Finn can’t help but instinctively turn his attention towards Gwen, the person he knew. Worry creased her brow, eyes shining with quickly managed tears, and her expression had a sharp intensity that could only come from being perilously close to the edge of something unthinkable. But her hands move swiftly, deftly. The panic she must surely be feeling didn’t show in her movements, only purpose.
Why hadn’t he thought to do any of this? He hadn’t known to do any of it. Looking at Itachi now, Finn couldn’t even tell if the man was conscious, his breathing so shallow it barely seemed there at all, his skin so pale it seemed transparent, making him seem so small, so frail.
He tried to think of something to say; something comforting or helpful. He wanted to ask if he was going to be okay. If she was going to be okay. But anything he could have said right now felt like an intrusion. The opposite of helpful. Instead he stays quiet, waiting. Hoping whatever help they needed (whatever help they could get) was going to come through soon.]