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ximilialog2024-02-04 12:58 pm
MISSION: A WASTE TO LIVE, PART 2
● ● ● M I S S I O N 1 8 . 2
Several weeks pass. And as surely as the frigid cold follows the sweltering heat on the Plains, one day will follow another. In their passing, orbers will find themselves wiser to everything that surrounds them, including the tragic history of Go’ama, the countless dead, the cities in ruins, and all that now make up the desert outside of the one city still standing.
As day follows night and night follows day, one thing is certain for those living on the Roof: its walls, constructed from limestone, will keep out those exiled from the city, dooming them to a slow and agonizing death. And yet in the morning, the orbers in the city who have been able to feel the suppression of the limestone, and the way it has radiated a feeling of pure nothingness, taking away their powers — if only momentarily ... that feeling is suddenly gone. It doesn't happen everywhere — the limestone inside the city still feels the same, whether in unrefined batches or in the handcuffs and bars of the prison cells, but one thing is undeniable: the city walls, once able to keep out any creature of magic, human or not, will no longer do so.
For those orbers stuck in the city, it means that leaving now will be as easy as walking past the walls and into the endless desert, the sand-filled air burning your throat as it crunches beneath your feet like dry and brittle bone. As for those out on the Plains — the walls of the city have crumbled to nothing — at least metaphorically. Now nothing keeps you in ... and nothing keeps you out.
Under the scorching brightness of the sun, beaten by the dry heat, the command to move is finally given; groups of exiled Go’amans and rebels alike make their way towards the gates that lead into the Roof. A familiar sight to many of the orbers by now, the tall, haphazard structures overlaid over centuries of destroyed ruins relays a long-standing history of people clawing their way past the wreckage in the hopes of doing little more than surviving another day. It is the perfect culmination of chaos and suffering that attracts the objects of power that the Ximilia team seeks for (hopefully) the last time ... of course the orbs have other ideas in mind.
1.0 There’s no forewarning before your mind, once clear and focused on the task at hand, suddenly fills with strange visions that become more and more twisted, the more worked up you become. Nightmares of losing your sense of self, your mind, your will-power warp with hallucinations of turning against everyone you know and adore. Your closest friends, your partner, the people who are and have become your family, they turn to you with pleading faces. Some of them lie motionless at your feet; some are no longer breathing. You feel as though you have always been a traitor. You are the monster. You aren’t yourself anymore. You never were. It feels so real — and you suddenly feel cold despite the heat as a chorus of whispering voices inside your head remind you of this mantra, over and over again. Behind it all is an echo of self-satisfied laughter, of a presence patiently watching you unravel.
2.0 If you manage to survive the onslaught of hallucinations and nightmarish visions that still leave a cold sheen of sweat along your skin, the back of your neck still prickling, you might now emerge from the haze feeling as though every atom in your body has shifted just a little. Like fog dissipating, your mind clears. And for those of you with existing powers, you realize that the innate ability that comes to you instinctually is now suddenly alien. Or perhaps it’s something even worse: you feel empty. In the vast wasteland that is the Plains, where survival may be a daily test of endurance and sheer will-power, at least you and your fellow exiled are free to use your abilities. But when those abilities suddenly stop working, or when they work differently, you realize that surviving out here just got a whole lot more complicated. Stranger still, this power might not belong to you, but it’s immediately familiar because you’ve seen this before … your teammate used this once on a previous mission, and now that power appears to be yours. Whether you’ve always known having a power, or you’ve suddenly acquired one after being without any kind of metaphysical ability all of your life, it will take some adjusting to — and there isn’t much time.
3.0 The upper council residing on the Roof feel it: the walls that have kept this city safe and shielded its populace from the unknown terrors of the Plains have come undone. The people feel it too, in some ways. Like a small exhale that ripples across the city, it’s as if a clenched fist has released its grip on the Roof. It won’t be felt by all, but those with powers might feel a little more at ease. Orbers that currently dwell within the dilapidated structures of the Roof will not only notice this change, but other changes within themselves too. Like your fellow teammates out in the Plains, those with powers might find that you can’t tap into those familiar abilities, either swapped out for something else entirely, or perhaps nothing at all. And like your teammates in the Plains, if you’ve never had metaphysical abilities before and have suddenly acquired one, you’ll have to catch up quickly, because time is running short.
The tension within the city feels heightened as the clans prepare for the inevitable chaos to come now that the limestone’s effects have mysteriously stopped, and above it all, positioned at the parapet of one of the highest rooftops, the leader of the Vo’a Mahdin stands solitary, her face obscured by her mask. From her vantage point she can make out the solid dark spire that stands in the distance of the Plains. But it isn’t the Tower that she studies now. She tips her head slightly to look up into the sky, towards the brightly burning sun that bathes all under its light. And then she pulls away. After all, she, too, has work to do.
Out on the Plains the Tower stands still, its obsidian walls stretching towards the skies, quiet and imposing. And yet there is still a way in: by providing important names from history, those of the people who had once worked with Rehil Hahn himself, and those who then worked to preserve something, anything, of the world that was left behind. These names are given to ensure the tragedy that their once-friend had instigated would never happen again.
The group headed for the Tower is a large one, consisting of both orbers who had already been on the Plains, but also reinforcements from those in the city — and finally, two of the locals: Manaia of the Dai’a Svar, and Ahkbarl, a now-reformed thug.
Jaima Bryn. Gawen Klass. Havila Maas. Kal Chomai.
Four names are spoken into the scorching air. And a doorway, as if drawn onto the side of the Tower, opens with a creak.
There’s nothing more to do now but enter.
4.0 The stairs seem to stretch on forever. You climb and climb, one foot in front of the other, until your knees are aching and your thighs begin to scream in protest, your lungs heaving with the need to gulp in breaths of air that they can't find. But if you decide to stop, perhaps to pause and sit or simply lean your hands against your knees and catch a gasp of oxygen — you begin to feel your feet sinking into the stairs as if they'd suddenly turned into liquid mud. Your ankle first, and then the other. And the more tired you are when you stop, the deeper you sink, and the harder it becomes to pull out again. And unlike quicksand, these strange stairs seem to sap you of your energy once they have caught you too.
The only way to not get caught? It's to keep going. Risk staying behind to help your friends and you might find your own feet swallowed into the treads until you are chest-deep in a viscous substance, a voice whispering all of your failures into your ears.
You deserve to stay here, it croons an echo inside your mind. Think of everyone you’ve failed. Everyone who has ever loved you … trusted you. You’ve failed them, and you’ve failed here too. Who would forgive you? Who would care about you? Everyone will leave you behind. And isn’t that better? If they don’t, you’ll doom them to die here. Alone, desperate. Just let go.
And maybe you do. But perhaps you don’t. Whatever the case, you’ll need some help getting out if you want to live.
5.0 Finally, the last of the stairs leads you to a door that you slam open without even pausing, before the stairs starts to suffocate you. You stagger into a room resembling an antechamber; it's empty except for one table that occupies the middle: and on it is a dark purple jewel exuding a sickly glow around it, pulsing lightly.
You exhale and take a step towards it.
But a voice — the voice, the same echo from the stairs — roots you in your place.
You will hear me, it whispers gently, with the tenderness of a lover. You find the whisper comforting and intimate, a warmth spreading through you for simply hearing it. Despite your better judgment, you strain your ears, eager for more.
You’ve done so well to come to me. I am the only one that can help you. Just me. The others … they’ll never understand. But I do. I see inside you, all you’ve been through, and you’ve suffered so much. You feel the prick of tears begin to fill your eyes. No one has ever understood you like this; you feel seen. Slowly you feel a sliver of something slide into your mind, something that wasn’t there before, like a hand reaching into you and rearranging something in you.
Good, good. And now ... you will forget.
It takes you too long before you can question such a declaration. Forget what? you think. Did something happen? Did — Confusion fills your mind. What are you supposed to forget?
You might begin to mouth, “Who are you?” Your throat will strain and sting. Weird. You haven’t been screaming … right?
I am patience, comes the answer. I am misery.
And it's as if those words suddenly unleash something, you feel it then: that feeling is pain. A cut on your cheek, the fracture of a bone, a punch to your gut: slowly, the injuries you have previously suffered are inflicted on you anew — but it turns out it's not only the injuries you yourself have received. You'll notice that the pain also comes from any injuries you remember inflicting on others in your past, whether that had been a day ago, a week ago or years ago.
You'll scream. And all around you in that seemingly empty room, others scream too.
6.0 You realize it now: this room has never been empty. Others have made it inside before you, but you couldn't see them, and they couldn't see you. But now you see them, meeting the eyes of a friend, or a teammate — and now more than ever you know you have to help each other. Move now, and drag yourself through the agony of your feet shuffling across the floor. Push through the pain to make it to your friend. You have to reach out and touch them —
But when you do, all you can hear now is their trembling voice, babbling in fear and speaking aloud everything that they are afraid of. Except when you study them, their mouth isn’t moving, which means it's the physical contact between you allowing you to hear them — and you can’t help them without touching them, can you? Because the contact appears to drown out your own pain, giving you a moment of clarity — or perhaps you are simply stronger together. You will need to keep in close proximity (via physical touch) to your teammates and decide between your worst fears being heard or continuing to endure the pain from all those injuries.
You have to stop it. Stop all of it, once and for all. Slowly you turn to the orb and try to drag yourself towards it — but as soon as your hand reaches out for it, a woman stumbles into the room from the door at the back.
Behind you, you see the door open again, this time letting in Manaia, who doesn’t freeze immediately upon hearing the orb’s whispers. Instead she looks at the orb and then at Kal Chomai. And she smiles.
Three things happen all at once: the orb glows brighter; an echo of laughter fills the room; and Kal Chomai lunges for it, panic blowing her eyes wide before she turns on her heels and disappears.
And someone, lightning-fast, catches her arm, disappearing with her.
Inside the cool caves of the Dai’a Svar hideout, Garam listens to Shinn’s explanation with remarkable calm. The truth of it all spills out: of Rehil Hahn, of the deal that he made, and of what the spark is capable of. And with that information out in the open, even when the situation is obviously a bad one … there’s no need for an attack is there? There’s no way the Dai’a Svar want to hurt the planet itself, right? To drain it of all life?
Garam listens.
And then he smiles.
With the last word of his riveting speech, golden strings whirl to life around the leader of the Dai’a Svar again. And like a sharp whip, they grab onto Shinn, easily flicking him across the room to land on the floor, knocked unconscious … at least long enough for Garam to marshal the forces of all of the spark users he has under his command.
And then hidden by the sandstorm, the Soldiers of the Spark march for war.
Bolstered now by the relentless determination and spirit of their leader, the Dai’a Svar move through blowing sands, shrouded from view, their hearts full of hope for a new future and their hands ready to fight — even kill for it. Some bear weapons: crude blades and pointed spears, sharpened by the spare resources around them — or through the Spark itself. Many rely on the Spark, having honed their skill to needlepoint precision the way an artist would tend to their craft. They steer forward as one, with Garam at the helm, not a soldier out of line nor abandoned in the fray.
7.0 If you are within the walls of the Roof, you and others around you might begin to notice the way the clans have begun to amass their strongest people, moving them towards the edges of the city. If questioned, these men, women and others alike will shrug in nonchalance or provide no response — but the answer becomes clear soon enough when tens of hundreds of dark specks begin to make themselves known through the shrouded sands as they step past the winds, their leader shouting commands from below. Suddenly it becomes clear that the clans within the Roof will need more people to defend their city — and they urge you to join along with them, strong as you may appear.
“Get ready for it,” one of the men beside you mutters under their breath. “This will not be easy. The starved do not have anything to lose, and these people … they have been wasting away to bones for hundreds of years.”
And then the Dai’a Svar begin to scale the walls.
8.0 Against the allied clans in the city, it would seem that the Dai’a Svar are no match — however, with their grit and the use of the Spark, they manage to infiltrate the useless limestone barricade, picking at it brick by futile brick, until it crumbles into debris and allows them through. Blasts of magic send up sparks of light and gusts of forceful energy, toppling gathered clanspeople from the Vo’a Mahdin, Sen Reuma, and Gal Masen Dai tribes as if they were nothing more than mere flies hovering over too-sweet wine. Against those who have suppressed the Spark, or who have never had it, the Dai’a Svar are at an advantage but they can fight — and they do. People from the Roof and the Plains alike fall as the attack continues on.
Whether you were here as part of the Roof, or you entered into the city from the Plains, you have the choice to fight for your side, against your side, or find some shelter to wait the battle out. Perhaps you’ll want to help the wounded, or simply make use of your abilities — whether they are borrowed from a fellow teammate or not. And of course, you might use this opportunity to seek your teammates out from the opposite side. This will not be a quick fight, but it does set up the perfect distraction for your true mission at hand.
9.0 Climb towards the highest point in the Roof onto the level they call 'the dome' and you begin to get a better sense of the fight happening further down, surrounded by broken statues and crumbled stone and structure: artifacts of a brutal history. You may also notice that the chief of the Vo’a Mahdin, Jial Bryn, and some of the other members from the Sen Reuma and Gal Masen Dai clans have gathered together, the latter clan members listening raptly.
Jial Bryn splits her attention between people around her before she finally turns towards you. You get the sense that you may have interrupted some important meeting but if it seems to bother her, she doesn't show it. Her face is still covered by her mask and the impassive, frozen features carved into the face pause in your direction before she lifts a hand, directing you to join her. Whether you’re from the Roof or the Plains seems to matter very little to her. In fact she doesn’t even seem to pay particular mind to her own clans-people as they begin to disperse with their given orders. Now, it seems, all she cares about is you.
“Come,” is all she says, and while her voice sounds a little odd, you may feel compelled to obey. She doesn’t wait to see whether you follow her as she heads into one of the topmost buildings, but she seems confident enough that you’ll be right behind her.
“I know what it is you seek,” she continues. “And I can help you get it. But the question is … are you worthy of it? Can you handle this power? After all, I’ve already seen what it can do to a weaker mind, a weaker people.”
Even if you try to leave now, you’ll find that every wall has become solid, any entry or exit is sealed, and when you turn back to look at the leader of the Vo’a Mahdin, her mask has been pulled away to reveal glistening black eyes and dark veins that form fissures across the milky-white skin of her face. Her eyes, like dark inkwells, bore into yours and suddenly images of your own failures, your losses, your grief are reflected in them. They pierce into the deepest parts of you, something sharp and hollow and painful, draining you of every happy thought you’ve ever had. You remember the bright and burning sun in Amaryllis Grove watching over an entire community, and you remember how the great eye slipped away from you … and you see the fallen bodies of those people you failed to save.
And like your teammates trapped within the Tower, you hear the whispers all around you and within you, channeling your own innermost doubts and fears and giving them voice. It feels hopeless to claw your way past them, they’re so loud — you’ll need help in order to go on, before Jial Bryn can pull you in and finish you.
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• If your character is affected by either of the orbs in prompts 5.0 or 9.0, please let the mods know HERE. This knowledge will be important later on.
• And finally, your soundtrack for this log: ♪ ♪ ♪
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