the great escape.The Circle has quite a lot on their plate, this time around. Multiple players are fighting for the control of Akvos, and many difficult choices to make. No matter what path you choose, though, one thing is for certain: it is a bitter fight to the death to ensure that Akvos remains standing, one way or another. There are three main areas for the characters to explore in the final log of Akvos: (1) The Kingdom of Akvos, where the King is fighting to seize control; (2) The Rift, where the characters will encounter the Dreamscapes; and (3) The Kingdom of Polankos, which is where King Ka'pouli has reigned since his arrival in the pocket dimension. Decisions made in all there areas will affect the outcome of Akvos, so get to exploring.  THE ASSAULT ON WAHINE.The King’s forces will attack in three different fronts. There will be mermen attacking from above, riding saddled giant seahorses and manta rays, launching spears at the mermaid-warriors below with terrifying precision. They seem to be indiscriminate, in their aim -- the weaponry, charged with the same dark energy that the shadow creatures seem to be made out of, find their target in civilians and warriors alike, raining down a sea of terror upon the central stronghold of the Kingdom of Akvos.
The mermen will also be attacking at the ground-level, attempting to burst their way through the Palace Gates to flood the city with numbers. While the mermaids outnumber the mermen, the mermen are certainly more brutal than the mermaids. Some of them, though, in finding the city, are more concerned with looting it than with senselessly murdering everyone inside. Indeed, this is the most food they have seen in a long time -- and markets are destroyed in grabbing as much food and riches as they can, pressing closer to the Palace, and toward the Queen's stronghold.
And, finally, they will be attacking from below, navigating their way through a network of tunnels meant to transport goods and bursting their way into people’s homes, to sneak their way closer to their ultimate goal, which seems to be the Palace itself.
The Circle's main goal, here, is to protect civilians, usher theminto the underground strongholds beneath the Palace, and fight for their own lives should they attack the mermen first. Man the wall, if you so choose, to attempt to block the air attacks from the mantas. Fight on the ground, to protect Akvos from destruction. Or make your way to the underground strongholds and tunnels, to block access to the Palace. All of these will certainly assist in keeping Akvos safe.
In addition, please remember that shadow creatures (which can only be killed by magical means) are still making their way through the entirety of Akvos. While King Ka'pouli's forces are targeting the Palace of Wahine, the shadow creatures are still present everywhere. Get to killing!  INTO THE RIFT.Some of you, however, have elected to traverse into the mysterious rift that appeared in the midst of the Fields of Akvosia. It looks like a black hole into nothingness, crackling with odd energy . . . and passing through it feels as though you have stepped through an icy waterfall. For a moment, you cannot breathe -- and then, you are treated to beauty.
The gaps between time and space are full of sparkling lights, bolts of rainbow starlight winding around you as you move through the uncertainty that is the void. It seems endless, but something inside you is tugging you forward . . . and, suddenly, there is a soft voice in your ear. A familiar one, to those who reside within the Circle . . . the confused voice of Astoria.
 "Hello? My Travelers? How are you within the Void?" The Void? That word hadn't been used to describe whatever this magical place is before, but . . . well, a witch with the ability to send you all across the universe probably knows what she's talking about, right? "That should not be possible . . . who opened this doorway?"
You can tell her, or you can not. It seems to matter not, because: "Is this not getting through? Why can I not hear you . . . but I can feel you, I can -- please, if you can hear this, be careful. The Void is not something for mortals to interact with, and it can show you terrible things -- terrible things, so please--"
And, right before you have the opportunity to respond to our benevolent witch (or captor, depending on your point of view), you see a bizarre glass-like surface in front of you. It looks like a mirror, and you see a perfect reflection of yourself. It is absolutely captivating, and it beckons you . . . almost urging you to touch it. And Astoria's whisper grows a bit louder, more urgent:
"My dear Traveler, be careful what you encounter here -- can you hear me? Can you see me? I am trying to get you out of there, to bring you back home--Akvos is--"
But it is too late.
Your fingers graze the edge of the mirror, and you are pulled -- a sensation that is familiar to you, the same pull in your stomach that you feel whenever Astoria thrusts you across the universe, into new realities. And, when you blink your eyes again, and look around . . . you are no longer in Akvos, or the Void. You are somewhere entirely new.
Welcome to the Dreamscape.  THE KINGDOM OF POLANKOS.Once the Circle emerges from the Rift and the Dreamscape, they will stumble into another world . . . but this one's wateris shallow, in comparison to the massive depths of the crystal-clear kingdom of Akvos. You can quite clearly see the surface, here, and there are shallows that allow you to come up onto islands, tropical in nature with fruit, odd creatures that appear to be multiple-headed monkeys and parrots, and sandy shores. It's a bit jarring to see, after spending so long underwater. Indeed, you emerge to trudge onto land, and look around, somewhat mystified that the deep-dwelling mermen would be from a place like this.
However, exploring the islands (which is not very difficult to do, as they are all small and will not take very much time) will yield the discovery that on the islands themselves are tunnels -- underwater caverns that thread through the islands to much deeper water. It's almost as if the islands themselves are barriers to the underwater caverns below -- shallow water, a layer of land, and then a (mer)man-made bubble of water below the barrier of land. And that whoever lived on these islands tunneled through them to find deeper water. Princess Kea, (who will attend on these journeys, while remaining in the water), will tell the Circle members that King Ka'pouli told her that when the mermen were cast out, they landed on solid land, and had to slowly dig deeper to their salvation.
Navigating through these tunnels will be somewhat perilous -- and the Circle members will need to carry Princess Kea to the nearest tunnel to get her into some water, because while she can breathe on the surface for a certain period of time, she cannot navigate the land as quickly as you people with legs. Additionally, underwater caving isn't exactly a blast, but the deeper you go, the more clues of civilization you can find. And, eventually, once you go deep enough, you emerge into a massive underwater cavern to find the small Kingdom of Polankos.
In comparison to the Kingdom of Akvos, Polankos is witheringly depressing. It is not brightly colored, nor open -- indeed, it is tiny, with mermen huddled together waiting patiently for the forces that went through the rift to return. There is not a lot to find here, save for some interesting weapons that possess a dark energy, versus a lightning energy -- and those weapons will be given to the Circle members who ask for them, because those who wield them are in no condition to fight. There is little food, little room to sleep, and these are a people clearly in need of assistance.
In order to get them out of Polankos, you will need to usher them through the tunnels back up to the Rift above -- it seems that King Ka'pouli opened the Rift on the surface, rather than risk the city below in case it did not work. The mermen there (who seem to be elderly and weak) will be eager for the assistance to get out Polankos, and at the promise of being brought into Akvos, they will happily go. There will be no resistance from them.
You may also see Princess Kea, who has filtered in and out of the Rift to assist on the journey -- teary-eyed, heartbroken at the sight of these individuals who require rescue, organizing the mermen with the promise of keeping them safe in Akvos.
"Hurry," she tells you, as she rouses another merman into getting to the nearest tunnel. "We do not have a lot of time to pull this off, and we must work quickly." Additionally, please feel free to write up and work with your own prompts! These areas of the world are presented as jumping off points for your characters, not limitations. The idea of this world- as with all the others- is to explore -- you may use as much leeway as you want in order to come up with what your character will do, especially in the Dreamscapes. If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask them back on the various threads back in the OOC post from before! |
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acatalepsy_logs2019-01-04 10:22 am
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[No nonsense, good in a fight, appreciates learning about new places and is good at reading between the lines. They'll get along just swimmingly
and make Shiro regret they bumped into one another, most likely.She fixes the fingerless glove on her right hand.]I shall look for a path out of here. Doubtless you have questions about such a foreign land.
[Even if it's only a dream.]
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[...just saying. He has a tendency to put people off. But he rather likes her too. For many of the same reasons. Good in a fight. To the point. Not prone to sugar coating.
Sorry in advance, Shiro.]Yeah, I definitely do. It's a lot different than the universe I'm from. [And part of him thinks it's only a matter of time before Astoria drops them into one of their own worlds.]
Magic's usual enough here?
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[Or raise his blade at her. That is still rather new as well, so they are even on that front.
Good luck and sorry, Shiro.The look in her eyes goes from amused with a flicker of underlying cruelty to that of sadness. "Usual enough"...]
No. [The tower soon fades, melting into that of a camp with nothing to shed light beyond the two campfires and the stars above. The one they now stand at is in its own little alcove, the tent more a makeshift shelter than an actual tent - herbs and spices of varying sorts hang from the top, a cauldron nearby for cooking and a smaller one next to what looks like a chemistry set.
Beyond them is the main camp, where there are bigger and actual tents set up along with sleeping bags by the fire. A wagon to the north of the circle of sleeping bags, two dwarves -- Bodahn Feddic and his adoptive son Sandal -- standing in front of it and conversing while the son works on smithing some sort of rune into a sword. A rock golem named Shale stands and watches, admiring the amethyst crystals recently added to her right arm. Another dwarf stands next to a mabari hound beyond, drinking his third ale. A grey giant called Sten stands by the fire, speaking with a man with blond hair -- Alistair, the dream supplies -- and an elven man with strange tattoos on the side of his face. All three pause to listen to the same archer from earlier, singing something in a foreign tongue -- yet Morrigan's knowledge of the language provides a perfect translation.
We sing, rejoice. We tell the tales. We laugh and cry. We love one more day...
Her eyes linger on the man she'd been with in the previous memory, speaking with the old woman just beyond the fire, before she focuses on her guest.]
Magic was far more prevalent in ancient times, when the ancient elves still were in power and dragons flew in the skies. Then man came, and crushed what they did not understand. [Something inhuman shines in her eyes, but she shakes her head.] Now elves are treated by most humans as second-class citizens, dragons are rare, and magic is feared by those without; they cage those they catch having it in places like that tower.
I am one of those who refuse to submit, and they fear me for it. [Hence why she sits here separated from them.] 'Tis just as well. My humanity's been in question for a while, now.
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[Running isn't his style. Or well, running off isn't his style. Running straight into danger absolutely is. But that is a detail he doesn't need to clarify right now.
Besies, he notices the change in her expression, and then everything is changing. Keith takes a moment to survey, eyes settling on each figure for a moment, trying to place the ones who've already popped up in her memoryscape.
He frowns. All of that sounds... terrible.] That's... wrong. Treating anyone that way.
[But that says a lot about her doesn't it? To speak of herself that way. Refuse to submit. Hmm. Keith considers a moment.] Humanity isn't what makes someone a good person or not anyway. [A shrug.] But I'm probably biased about that.
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[She bends down, tending the fire with another stick as he tries to place each and every face that has appeared before. Lets it sink in. Yet she finds herself looking up at the talk of bias.]
...I am not. [She openly admits it, and yet... she hesitates to say anything further for a moment as she closes her eyes. She lets the scenes play in the smoke from the fire as voices echo on the night breeze. The others laughing and making quips with one another. Alistair trying to needle her and failing, Leliana trying to reach through her icy walls and bond over shoes and dresses and, in her own way, Morrigan tries to reach her through song subjects - and epic fails. Wynne trying to be a second mother, loving and kind... and Morrigan, having no idea how to handle it, returns it with bitterness and a barbed tongue. Sten lamenting the fact southerners refuse to sew mage's lips shut like back in his home of Par Volen. Oghren being a drunkard and disgusted that Amell wants in her tent. Shale constantly referring to her as the "swamp witch" - she likes Shale. Zevran asking her about her mother, Flemeth-
An old woman's face shows up in the fire - same nose as the witch, the same yellow eyes. Ahh, here we a-
Morrigan's eyes grow wide with anger and a bead of sweat falls down the side of her face as the fire suddenly freezes over; the flames within still a brilliant mixture of orange and yellow behind the pale blue. She breathes slowly, trying to rein in her emotions. She doesn't even realize she'd jumped back until she feels the herbs hanging behind her get stuck to her hair.]
...Mother. [She spits out the word with the same ice that froze over fire. She shakes her head, collecting herself and trying to return to the topic at hand as she reaches for an exit with her mind.] I am simply a woman who has little idea what her own mother is. Beyond not being human as she appears to be, that is.
Good and bad are subjective, but I agree... 'Tis wrong indeed. [She sighs, frowning.] I suppose it says something that I at least have some standards... What happened at the tower was caused by the desperate seeking independence, 'tis true... but it also proves the folly of what the human Chantry teaches. The purpose of their Circles was once to teach.
When the Chantry moved in, the Circles were transformed into a cage made from fear. I cannot decide who is more stupid: the ones who built the cage, or the ones who allow themselves to be put in it. [Morrigan falls silent for a moment, her gaze flickering to Amell. He didn't choose it, he'd told her when he asked to learn how to shapeshift. He'd been taken, yet it isn't her story to tell.]
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[Because that could describe a number of occasions really. Probably too many occasions.
Keith falls quiet again, watching. There's so much here that he can only guess at, can barely understand. But he thinks bits and pieces of it, he can put together. The word mother has him staring towards the frozen fire, the face that's appeared.]
Your mother...
[He echoes, looking around once more.] People do strange things when they're afraid. [But he can't imagine accepting a cage even then.]
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[It was enough to give her the hint that the two of them are just as into one another as she is with a certain Circle mage over there that she's been eyeing once in a while. All without anything even remotely explicit. ...Shh. She isn't attached to the hip with Amell at all, what are you talking about?]
The rest... you will have to ask him, if you're so curious.
[Because YEAH... Even she isn't so heartless to comment on trauma, even if it's the sufferer's lover.]
...would be too smug for her own good if she knew her ghost haunted me so. [She glares at the frozen fire, shaking her head.] Foolish things, in that particular case. But I digress.
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But he sobers and ducks his head at the next moment.]
Fair enough.
[A pause and he looks back to the face in the fire.] Why foolish?
[Digress more, Morrigan.]
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...A path is never so dangerous than when one's eyes are shut. They willingly put on their leashes and blinders for three square meals and a warm bed. Most never realizing the gilded nature of the cage.
[She sighs.] Most of them, at least. Elsewise they run or are dragged to it by a world that fears them.
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[But he understands her points honestly. He'd never make that choice himself, if it were posed to him. Even if he's learned by now how to bear responsibility, he's not good at being caged in.]
So that wasn't your choice then. [From what he can put together about her in a first meeting, she certainly doesn't seem the type to fall for that. A pause and he considers his words for once instead of just speaking. But then he goes and says them anyway,] Your world doesn't seem like the friendliest place, for people who are different.
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[Morrigan would know; she's excellent at manipulation, when she needs to. Here she hasn't had that need. Not yet.
She laughs at the question.] Oh no, I'm still unbound to any of their Circles... Their templars would kill me without a second thought with what I know of old, forgotten magic. But no, I wanted to leave them to their consigned fate.
[She nods to the man she'd glanced to before.] He talked me into helping because, like him, there may have been a few who didn't choose it.
So, no, they are n- [The dream around them shifts.] Oh, for the love of-
[She stops talking the moment the scent of the swamp overtakes the dreamscape.
The chittering of insects and howl of wolves in the distance fill his ears as ancient trees surround him, wet grass and wild flora winding around the roots. Four men in silver armor stand over a woman with black hair. One kneels by the body, blood soaking the mud.
'This is not the witch we seek," he says. "It couldn't be."
"A witch now, or a witch in a year's time... What does it matter?" The more zealous of the quartet says. "Come, Ser Thiall. And be quick."
The first man, Thiall hesitates, staring at the blood on his hands as he stands. "Is this the sacred task of our order, then? Cutting down wilderfolk?"
The zealous templar prods at his chest. "No doubt the priests would be impressed with your piety. But know this: we are His sword. And wherever our blades fall, the Maker's work is done."
"I cannot believe this."
"We burn out apostasy. Abominations, Malificar. Everything else - everything - is empty words. An echo." He begins to walk away. "Hold your tongue. There may be time for you to hold forth on holy scripture when we return to Lothering."
"Is that so?" If warning bells aren't going off already, the doubter continues as the others slowly reach for their swords. "I am beginning to doubt there will ever be a good time. And, indeed, my doubts do not end there." Danger, Will Robinson. "The blessed mother at Lothering would be, no doubt, fascinated to hear that-"
The templar draws his sword, approaches, and points the tip of the blade at Thial's throat. He gulps. "You wish to test the edge of my conviction? Do you fear the righteousness of our duty." The blade slowly sinks into the man's throat. "Here, brother. We will cut this fear from you..."
The woods darken around them, a familiar laugh echoes through the branches in a singsong tone as a few of the trees begin to stir. The templar withdraws his sword as the three watch their comrade bleed out despite the man's attempt to keep the cut closed. It's no use; the windpipe's collapsed, even she knows that much of medicine. Birds flee, attempting to escape what they know will be bloody.]
They aren't even kind to their own. Of course they are not to those who are different. But it matters not...
None of them left the wilds that day.
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These people.
He's well aware there are people like this in the world, in any world, but it still twists something in his stomach as he watches the man bleed out. His own comrades had...
He looks around as the aura of the forest changes.]
Good.
[Wait. ...no that's what he meant.] What's coming?
cw: death, body horror
My mother and I. Behind you.
[Treants lift up from their places of observance, waiting. Flemeth in rags torn by low-hanging branches in front of them, and to her right... is Morrigan, not older than twelve.
"You have found your 'Witch of the Wilds, o templars," Flemeth greets them with ice, the treants slowly surrounding them and the templars. The two witches hold no fear, yet the three men begin to shake in their armor. The sensation of a thrill like a predator sizing up their prey echoes through the boughs. "I wonder... What will you do with her now?"
"You may speak," the zealous templar - murderer - says, holding fast to his perceived righteousness. "-and speak, but we shall not hear you. Men! Arm yourself with faith!"
The crow chortles as Flemeth speaks, yet it holds no mirth. "Your 'maker' made me, did he not? Perhaps he knows something you don't. Perhaps there are things he himself does not know."
'Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature,' a ghostly whisper echoes.
One of their blades suddenly catches fire. The one on the right shouts something, and a treant, not phased by the flame, screeches in his face. The dream Morrigan smirks beneath her hood, her hands glowing with white light. Ice shoots up from her feet and it impales the man, the other slowly succumbing to the same spell she used on the abominations and demons in the Tower. "My blade! My blade is not my own! It-"
The zealot stabs him in the neck, putting him out of his misery. "Sleep now, friend. Commend me to Him." He turns to Morrigan. "Stand aside, witch. I am the Maker's will in this cursed place."
"So you have said," she replies coolly, hands still glowing and vines beginning to wind their way toward the templar's feet. The crow offers one warning, because he is precious to a friend.]
I would look away, were I you. I am trying to shift the dream, but-
[But her control is slipping as they near the end, and the next part is.. horrific to say the least.]
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But Keith knows that childhood isn't always a fair thing, no matter what should or shouldn't be.
Keith doesn't answer in words, but he also doesn't look away. It's not in his nature. Whether the vision shifts or not, Keith won't be the one to turn from it.]
You were so young.
[That's all he says, voice quiet.]
cw: death, body horror, eye squick
[The crow caws. Well, she did warn him...
"'Tis a wonder he has not appeared before us," the child Morrigan continues. "Given how freely you invoke Him." The vines are securely wrapped around the templar's feet and legs, now -- pinning him in place. If Keith looks, he'll see a few bodies hanging from the trees and a couple skulls not yet buried in the mud. "But this is no Chantry, and I am no meek Circle mage to be ordered about."
The vines are encompassing him entirely, penetrating him as they crush the helmet over his head.
"You have trespassed here, but all is not lost." Vines jut out of the zealot's eyes, nose and mouth. "This wood will make use of you."
And just like that, it is over. The ice cracks and turns to dust, leaving the second dead fallen to the swamp floor.
"My black brier, my maid of thorns!" Flemeth sounds so, very proud. Morrigan smiles, but the crow stares at the small family of two before shifting back into her true form and looking at the sight with the strangest look of pride, disgust, and not quite grief, but... sadness.]
'Tis a shame... Had we arrived earlier, I would have spared doubter. We always spared the ones who refused to sully their blades with innocent blood.
["I have pleased you, then. 'Tis a wonder! I shall mark the day."
"Aha! Even her tongue has a barb." Flemeth holds her close.
"Am I not your daughter?" Morrigan asks.
The real Morrigan flinches, and as Flemeth's voice continues, everything fades to black. "Never more so than now. You are a perfect creature, and perfect for my purpose."]
If only I knew what those words had meant.
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The conversation with Morrigan and her mother is even further unsettling. Something about the woman is... wrong. That's clear enough when he sees Morrigan flinch beside him.]
I guess you found out. [Doesn't sound good at all.]
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[She may like him, but it is not his burden to bear. It is hers. One she didn't wish she'd shared unwittingly with another.
The dream, however, remains dark... A clear glass floor beneath their feet like a shattered mirror held together by vines and spiderwebs (no creepy crawlies, though -- only the witch in the far distance). Red footprints lead to her, and she keeps her back to him.]
The important thing is she is dead, for the time being. [And with that, she reaches forward, like opening an invisible door in front of them, and the dream shatters.]
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So he just nods.] Fair enough.
[He won't press. He's the private type himself, so he's not one to probe too deeply with people he doesn't know well. And he's already gotten a very intimate view of Morrigan, for a first meeting especially. Like a crash course, of sorts.
He startles when it all begins to shatter though, unsure why but suddenly holding his breath, like he's expecting to be plunged into deep water again.]
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[But no, seriously, 'tis probably a good thing that he does brace himself. For just as she said earlier, she was looking for a way out of the dreamscape. The oceans of Akvos greet them both once more. Only, she isn't in her human form.
A dragon the size of a pick-up truck blinks her eyes at him, nudging the watch on her wrist with her nose, before swimming off with a couple emaciated mermen on her back.]