lifeaftr | August Event: The City is at War

August Event: The City is at War

AUGUST EVENT: THE CITY IS AT WAR

Who: Everyone!
What: You pick a side, or you pick up the pieces
When: August 16th to August 23rd
Where: Primarily Nastrandir, though also Ensō
Warnings: Violence, injury, forcibly altered mindsets via magical influence, possible character death. Potential (and fully optional) dissociation and identity crises. Potential (and fully optional) spontaneous combustion. Otherwise, tag as you go!

We All Lose in the End
On cue, the recently uncovered...and decidedly faulty merotome shatters on the morning of August 16th. Those close enough may recall an odd popping noise, like a lightbulb exploding, or find a shard of some odd, rubbery substance caught in their hair. The wave that shoots out across both islands barely seems to stir the air, but the aftershocks of its passing are to be felt for the week to come.

Whether or not you noticed the sweeping burst of light as it roared over just about everything, you're bound to hear the loud, wailing sound that starts to emit from all over Nastrandir. It sounds like the world's worst kind of alarm, and it just keeps on going.

That's to say nothing of the automatons rising steadily from the murk, or the fact that you might find that some of your fellow explorers are suddenly seeming a lot more trustworthy...and some of them are seeming a lot less. Maybe you latch onto personal terrors and preexisting grudges to justify the new onset of violence that starts to divide you from some of your fellows...or maybe it just feels right in some unquantifiable sense.

Regardless, those impacted by the merotome will find themselves gravitating towards Nastrindar sooner rather than later. Members of the Red Team are likely to initially head towards the ruins on C4 and D4. The swampy water flooding the island will eventually drive you to seek out more mountainous areas; the need to keep dry will vary from a strong desire to an absolute necessity, depending on the individual. As territorial instincts rear their head, this group will find that the war automatons no longer view them as hostiles. Now, these mechanical killers may even take basic orders, such as watching a certain location, fetching some basic materials, and, of course, upon whom they should aim their primary fire.

Meanwhile, the Blue Team will congregate along the shorelines, striking out inland through any route that keeps them close to a body of water - or in it. More likely to travel and fight in a pair or group, it's unlikely that members of this group will stay from the main party for too long, as their power is largely in numbers. While no automatons accompany them into battle, the waters surrounding and soaking into Nastrandir are their greatest ally, as they are capable of replenishing strength and healing minor wounds. Members of the Blue Team will be capable of continuing the fight for much longer than their Red counterparts, and their affinity with the waters will make them difficult to locate or pursue unless they wish it.

You Don't Get Another Shot
For those more resistant to the effects of this sudden shift will find that they're now unfortunately adrift between two warring factions, potentially with friends on either side. There is hope, however - those previously silent sirens are now blaring constantly, and it's very possible that their destruction could turn the tide against this needless bloodshed. The more of those you break, the looser the grip of this altered mindset will become, and the less hostile the automatons will be.

Keep in mind, however, that while you may feel unaffected, the possibility stands that you've been marked for one side without your knowledge. And though this may prove advantageous to getting through to those that identify you as their own, those that do not may take your attempts to shake their morale badly.

Even violently.

Stick Around and See How It Ends
Thus far, the teams are as follows. If you see any problems, inconsistencies, or wish to change teams, please don't hesitate to contact us! While we're no longer accepting sign-ups to be RNG'd into a team, you can still decide retroactively which side you'd like your character to be situated on, if at all!

RED TEAM	BLUE TEAM
Alexei Dinoia Amaterasu Anthony J. Crowley Asgore Dreemurr Connor Murphy Edward Elric Erika Fisher Jules Dagger Samari Leonard Church Muffet Tim Wright Yukio Okumura Zidane Tribal	2B Alisaie Leveilleur Agent Washington Ben Hargreeves The Drifter Epsilon Héctor Rivera Herbert West Horatio Nullbuilt Kravitz Legion Mollymauk Tealeaf Ren Rin Okumura Steve Rogers

In the meantime, the following links may prove handy:

[ ♆ ] OOC Event Info and Plotting Post
[ ♆ ] Nastrandir's Intro
[ ♆ ] Nastrandir's Locations Page

Event Timeline

[ ♆ ] August 16th: The merotome breaks, issuing a mind-altering wave; the sirens go off, and definitive sides in a conflict start to form
[ ♆ ] August 23rd: The conflict ends when those who have not been freed from the mind-altering influence either break free or burn to death
[ ♆ ] August 24th: The monthly Storytelling occurs late; characters who have died are revived in time to participate
[ ♆ ] September 4th: Extra time is allotted to those participating in the monthly Storytelling to compensate for the later date, and the Storytelling closes

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Hostile sighted.]

[Hostile - ? The word sounds wrong. Clinical and soldierly, but he's...he is a soldier, right? He's a soldier, and this is what he does. He finds the enemy, the hostile, and he fills them with holes.]

[Barely armed, too. A spear? Wash almost wants to scoff. Instead, he aims his weapon at the other party's center of gravity. Biggest part of the target. Harder to miss.]

What're you gonna do? Skewer me?

[There are a lot of things, that Crowley can no longer do here, but he doesn't think about it in those terms, because he doesn't quite realize what he's missing. He only knows what he can do, and one of those things is short range teleporation.

Crowley disappears instantly, reappears somewhere to the left of Wash, hidden behind a section of rock.]

Could do, if I wanted, but I'd prefer if you just left. No one has to get hurt.

[Everyone's so angry, so eager for violence and righteous justice. And he gets it, he does! The invaders are awful, they deserve everything that comes to them, but he'd just rather they all leave each other alone. A war seems like such a waste.

Why destroy the whole planet— no, that isn't it. That's not his thought.

Fuck.]

[Suddenly, the hostile - the enemy - is gone, in the blink of an eye. Wash shakes his head rapidly as if to clear it. What the hell? Some...some illusion, some trick? Is he talking to anyone at all?]

[The position of the voice has changed. Wash snaps around, weapon still raised, turning slowly. Keep him talking. Maybe he can narrow in on his position, if he can just keep him talking.]

You're wrong -

[They came here for a reason. They came here to...to make them pay. Didn't they? They came from boats. Across the sea. The Water...yeah. It led them here. It led them here to make them suffer for their sins. They're blasphemers.]

You thought you could hide from us. You couldn't run forever.

[His spear may have been given to him by the Morningstar (whoever that is, every time he tries to grasp for more than the name, it slips away), but he knows at a range, there's far better odds in a gun. This is why they made them, but the invaders shouldn't even have them.

Probably stole it from a corpse, that seems right up their alley.

But he needs to get in range without exposing himself; Crowley pulls space around himself and moves a little closer, as close as he can get without giving up cover. Arguing straight out isn't going to work, either, but maybe there's something else there to dig into.]

Oh, aren't you the brave warriors, chasing an enemy that only wants to be left alone? You're not soldiers, you're just bloodhounds after a rabbit they don't even need to eat. No one needed to die, if you'd stayed out of our business, if you'd stayed off our island.

You thought you could run from what was always coming to you. You should've seen this coming. It's what you deserve.

[You're not soldiers. No, he...he is. He is. He's a soldier. He had the best aim on his team. His team. What team was that? Glowing letters on a leaderboard and names being shuffled around on the ship whose name he can't remember but it doesn't matter, probably, because he came here on a ship.]

[Didn't he?]

[The voice is coming from his left, he thinks. He starts moving, slowly, for some of the jagged outcroppings of rock. Maybe he's hiding behind there. Maybe he can get the drop on him.]

Why don't you show yourself and try saying that to my face?

[It's funny how quickly the words are turned on him, how it strikes a nerve, the choice of phrasing. It's what he deserves, isn't it? Crowley is burning up, he's on fire and he's falling and the anger that rises up is so cloying it doesn't feel as though it belongs to him.

He's just there suddenly, right in front of Wash, striking at his head with the butt of his spear. That armor is too advanced for him to be able to slice through it, and he doesn't know the weak points yet, but blunt trauma is blunt trauma, especially with Crowley's strength, even as limited as it is.]

[If he can get behind - fuck!]

[Fucker pops up right out of nowhere, clocks Wash across the helmet with the end of the spear. Where the hell did he come from? How'd he - ?]

[The blow snaps Wash's head to one side. The armor eats the worst of the blow, but the shock of it still rattles him, in part because he simply wasn't expecting it in the first place. He fires off a few shots on reflex and they go streaking off harmless across the rocks.]

Damn it.

[Swing around and try and get a shot off. Anywhere will do. Before he blinks away again, however the hell he's doing it - ]

[The gun is his main source of concern, right now, but it's hard to shoot straight when you're on the ground, so that's what Crowley's next move aims towards. He ducks low, tries to get the spear between Wash's legs while simultaneously throwing his own weight forward.

There's no particular expertise in the move, Crowley was made to create, not to fight, he doesn't have the instincts or training that a Principality would. He's just desperate.]

[He's desperate, and Wash's years of military instincts are going up against the version of him that is untrained with any of this expensive equipment he's using. He stumbles, though he doesn't fall, and instead of firing off any further rounds, he just tries to - whack Crowley across the head with the stock of the rifle.]

[Hey, like you said. Blunt trauma is blunt trauma.]

[Blunt trauma is even worse without a helmet to soften the blow. Crowley is a demon, but he's a demon with metaphorically clipped wings, and the gun to the head drops him to one knee, draws a sharp hiss from him, the sound entirely inhuman.

Which reminds him that there are better ways to fight.

Crowley drops the spear, then drops to the ground, transforming into a serpent in one smooth motion. He's larger than a regular snake, a good twenty feet in length, and he immediately tries to wrap himself around Wash.

Venom isn't much use against a suit of armor, but maybe Crowley can crack it open if he squeezes tight enough.]

[The other guy makes a sound like steam escaping from a kettle, which Wash doesn't think twice about - until he turns into a fucking snake JESUS motherfucking christ what the hell - ]

[Oh god, the thing is massive. Massive, and coiling around him, and Wash manages to sound off a loud, panicked yell before just opening fire at whatever scaly bits he can see, until his rifle clicks empty.]

[All the while, shouting semi-inarticulately:]

JESUS WHAT THE FUCK HOW -

[Crowley was so caught up in the fantasy of being a demon that he forget he lived in a world where guns exist. Pain blossoms through him, familiar enough in this form, at least from the early days after the Fall — after — after what?

It's the pain, that must be it, that's why he can't hold onto a thought.

The coils tighten around Wash, but it turns out that blood makes things so much more slippery, and Crowley's having trouble holding a proper grip, he's having trouble forcing his muscles to work the way they should.

He way he bites at Wash's arm is truly an act of panicked desperation, he's fairly certain the armor will take most of the damage, but if he can't strangle his enemy to death, he has to at least try something else.]

[Wash has been reduced to a very unsoldierly yelping and firing routine that would honestly be an embarrassment to the person he usually is. Fangs crunch into the armor of his arm and he more or less abandons the effort of trying to shoot an empty clip and resorts to just whacking the giant snake repeatedly with his rifle.]

LET - GO - LET GO - JESUS CHRIST -

[The blood loss, the pain, the blows to the head, they're all enough to make someone a little disoriented. Combined with the effect of whatever's digging into Crowley's mind, the memories that aren't his, the memories that are his but are long buried, the fear of a war that he barely just averted, it's all a bit much. Something sort of rattles loose in his mind, and Crowley takes his leave of the situation.

Fortunately, for Wash, this mostly just leaves the serpent, who's spending a lot of energy on a meal that's fighting back, and decides that it really isn't worth the effort of trying to crack into the carapace of this creature.

The grip it has on him loosens, and then the snake drops away, quickly slithering off between cracks in the rock, leaving behind a trail of blood, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Terribly rude, snakes are, especially this one.]

[Wash stumbles, lands more or less flat on his ass in his effort to scramble away from the creature as it slithers off, apparently having decided that he's not prey worth pursuing. His heart hammers wildly in the chamber of his chest, his rifle clattering uselessly onto the rocks.]

[The armor at his arm is dented. Even if the fangs didn't pierce it, the crushing force of the vicelike jaw has compressed the composite down around skin and muscle and bone. It's going to leave, if nothing else, a hell of a bruise.]

[He's down a full mag, plus several new and shiny injuries, has covered no ground and no new territory, and all with no idea what the hell just happened.]

[So Wash does the only thing he can do at this point.]

[He picks himself up and starts to make for the shore. He needs these injuries taken care of, first and foremost.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

August Event: The City is at War

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cant believe i dont have a snake icon im a disappointment to my family

youre under arrest

IM NOT GOING BACK TO PRISON

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