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

I am well.

[He says, visibly not well. But it's an old instinct, brushing off his own needs in favor of his peoples'. He could lose centuries more of his life and still have that.

Crowley was shot. It's the same thing that almost killed Asgore barely a week ago, and for a moment there's that same flare of anger. Whoever did that to him should die. He's tired, though, and the fact that Crowley is here and whole convinces him that the matter must have been dealt with already.]

Please, come and sit. Even if you have been healed, you should not tax yourself. You will still need some time to recover.

[Crowley thinks you don't look it, the words right there on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn't speak them out loud, not sure if it would come across as too antagonistic. He's never been very good at playing nice, even with Aziraphale he struggles sometimes, and they've known each other for millennia.]

Only if you'll rest for a bit too. [He tries for a tone approaching gentle.] You're no good to anyone if you're asleep on your feet, yeah?

[Asgore visibly hesitates for a moment. Surely he should keep going? It feels like his people's darkest hour, when they most need their king to keep going, to find some shred of hope. A king does not put his own needs first.

But nobody else is here. It's worth it for Crowley's sake, right?]

I suppose that would be alright.

[He'll turn back towards the old base camp, then. It's not far. By now, it's pretty much entirely deserted, a far cry from when the entire Red Team was camped out up here. Asgore will settle down near the embers of the fire, in what had become his usual spot, and use his magic to coax the flames a little higher.]

[Crowley slinks after him, feeling very much the serpent in this moment just for the fact that this strikes him as subterfuge, regardless of whether his intentions are good.

The fire unsettles him more than he'd like to admit, though he still takes a seat, still stretches out his legs towards the warmth. The thought bookshop aflame is a less pleasant memory, but it's a strong one, strong enough to drown out the din of the false ones, so he lets heat sink into him and holds onto it like a lifeline.]

D'you remember growing up together, Asgore?

[Ever since he committed to this, he's been trying to work out the best way to approach, and he remembers how they'd both seemed to realize that something was wrong with this situation, regardless of whether they could work out what. Now he's planning to pick at the false memories, hoping to unravel them enough to get Asgore out of their hold.]

[Asgore blinks, surprised at the sudden change in topic.]

Y-es.

[He does, doesn't he? He knows they did. And if it's blurry, if his entire childhood is a hazy mix of green grass and Nastrandir's crags, stone castles that could almost belong and blooming gardens that certainly don't - it would be a cruel thing, wouldn't it, to tell Crowley he's entirely forgotten their first meeting.]

Of course I do. [Still not a good liar.] Why do you ask?

[Crowley likes to think he's good at what he does, at temping, at knowing what people want and making them give into it. He just isn't quite sure how to apply that here. It's not as though he's trying to lure Asgore into succumbing to some desire, this is far more delicate.]

'Cause I'm not sure I do. [Offer something first, make himself vulnerable.] I've got — impressions, you know? Flashes, bits and pieces, but it's all a bit messy, there's nothing really concrete.

[He'll give everything over in small bites, let Asgore digest it slowly. There's no need to start with the entire truth. That's the real trick of a temptation. It isn't about making someone give in to him, it's about getting them to think it was their idea from the beginning. There's no point in coming out with "this is all fake", but if he can get Asgore to start questioning, to start picking at the lies, maybe he'll unravel them himself.]

...oh.

[That sounds familiar. Too familiar, really. Asgore frowns, eyes casting down in the flames.]

Yes, I...well, I have felt ill, these past few days. [Is that it? Just a fever? He's sure he's felt like this before, sick and not all together, although he can't remember exactly when it happened.] I suppose...did your parents work in the castle?

[That sounds right; he's pretty sure that's how he met most other children, when he was very young. They're far from the castle now, though. Naturally the enemy came for that early on.

(Of course this is the first time Asgore's so much as alluded to anything even royalty-adjacent in conversation with Crowley.)]

[Ill doesn't cover it and they both know that, so Crowley doesn't point it out, focusing instead on the direct question.

None of his memories contain a castle, it doesn't quite fit with the rest of Nastrandir, the way it's been built up in his mind, so it might be worth focusing on that, picking at the dissonance.]

They could've done, though I can't say I remember much of them, either. [He doesn't have them, is the thing. God might have created him, but she was never a parent.] That's where you grew up, then? The castle?

Yes, of course.

[Asgore turns his frown on Crowley. He's not offended - his status doesn't mean that much to him, or at least not in that way. No, he's more worried that Crowley seems to have forgotten something that should've been clear.]

I am the king, remember? My family lived there for centuries.

[Crowley wonders if this is the sort of thing that Asgore just tells people, but if it isn't, he can keep a secret once they're all back to normal.]

I don't, actually. Remember. [In a way, it's not entirely a lie. He realizes now that everyone's memories lined up in the basics, but the details filled in differently, depending on their truths. Part of his mind was still trapped in Heaven, apparently Asgore remembers that he's royalty.] Will you tell me about it? It might help jog my memory.

...of course.

[It doesn't entirely make sense to describe his own childhood to jog Crowley's memory, but Asgore supposes he just doesn't know that much about Crowley's. He'll just walk through it until he figures out how they met. He's worried, now.]

I think you would have had some connection to the castle, if we met when we were very young. I did not leave the castle grounds a great deal until I had control over my magic. I...suppose things were already a bit tense, even then.

[That's when the invaders still lived here? Before they left for the water? They were neighbors.]

I remember halls. Long and empty.

[This is also not a lie. A lot of his memories of Heaven are hazy at best, but he's seen it again recently enough to know that he's not far off the mark. Cold, white, sterile.

That's Heaven.]

Things were tense with the humans, yeah?

[This is a risk, but he tries to keep his voice casual, as if he's not slotting a piece of the truth into Asgore's story. They haven't had a name, for their enemy here, but Crowley knows Asgore fought a war against humans.

And if the monster is anything like him, it makes sense that real memories are getting tangled up with the fake ones.]

[Humans, invaders...they've blended together more often than not, for Asgore. It was the human Nastrandirians who helped him keep the ideas distinct, but none of them are around anymore.]

Yes. Though I still never expected them to attack. I don't think any of us did - certainly not like that, with no warning.

[There was no declaration of war, not even a specific event Asgore knows of that set things off. One day, some of the nearest settlements were just...gone.]

That was a long time ago, Asgore.

[It was too long ago for it to still be carrying on this way now, for it all to feel so fresh. Every word Crowley picks feels as if he's stepping on a potential landmine, but if the worst happens, he can get away.

He'd feel a bit awful about it, but he could leave Asgore here, to whatever fate might come.

It'd just be better if it didn't come to that.]

It - it cannot have been that long, surely.

[Right? It couldn't have been. Aren't they still here, fighting that same war? And look at how it's going, too. They could never stand up long against such an overwhelming force.]

How long has it been...?

[Questions are good, questioning is good, it means that Asgore might be starting to really notice the gaps in the story, the places where it all falls apart.]

Thousands of years ago, you said, that humans imprisoned monsters under the mountain.

[Crowley doesn't stress the word, but he thinks it's important to say under, in the hope it might spark something.]

...what?

[It sounds familiar. That last glimpse of the sky before he walked under the mountain. It wasn't this mountain; he remembers the shape of it well.

But the thought of it is already filling him with dread. Something horrific is hiding, there. It's something he doesn't want to face.]

No, that sounds - that would be terrible.

[It's familiar, in a way. Crowley wonders how much he wanted to cling to whatever this falsehood was because the truth was harder to stomach.]

You know the reason I can't remember growing up here is 'cause I didn't, yeah? I think you understand, deep down somewhere, just like I did. It's become about what happened with the humans, for you. It was about Heaven, for me. There was a war, a long time ago and I was cast out. Burned the whole way down and then some, until there wasn't much left of me.

[For a little while, lost in the fantasy they'd been pulled under, he was still an angel. One fighting in the war, but one that hadn't Fallen, not yet.]

It's hard, to remember stuff we don't want to remember, even if it's true.

[Asgore folds his arms against his body, claws digging into his elbows. This isn't right. This can't be right.]

I don't know what you mean.

[Or is he just being a coward? All his memories are of him doing his duty, protecting his people, fighting where he could. He feels like he's done the best he could. He's okay with himself.

Yet something in that self-directed accusation rings true.]

They have been attacking us this whole time. You were there.

[Crowley watches the way Asgore holds himself, his own expression shifting into something a bit more troubled, a bit worried, but he presses on past it.]

They're the same as us, caught up in this blasted lie. [He has no idea how people ended up on the sides they did, if there was some choice made by someone or something, if it was just luck. He doesn't really care.] But I got out of it, yeah? It just took someone knocking me upside the head with the truth, so... so I'm hoping it'll work for you. Doesn't seem worth dying over, something like this.

[Asgore frowns at that, looking away. If all that were true, then has he just killed some random innocent people?

The thought of it fails to impact him the way it ought, still caught up in their team affiliation, and for once he notes the lack. He doesn't...even with the humans, he never hated them like that. After all, there was - ]

You should not have come back here.

[It's not the words Crowley was hoping for, and it troubles him a little. It feels almost like a step backwards. It feels almost like a warning.]

Pro'ly not, had a bit of a tiff with the angel about it. Didn't seem fair to leave you, though. Not when you haven't had a choice.

[Ah, there it is. That's what's really sticking with him about all this. It's another damned war that no one was given a choice to fight, they were dragged into it against their will, at the whims of some unknown force.]

I killed some of them.

[Asgore says it far more straightforwardly than he otherwise would, and that is starting to concern him now. The skeleton is dead; he saw him dust. The human from the forest...well, he didn't see that one die, but he wasn't doing well.]

If - if what you say is true, then...

[He covers his face for a moment, just to breathe.

Why worry about trying to save some murderer's life?]

[It'd be easy to be dismissive. Crowley isn't a fan of outright killing, but with all the temptations he's been responsible for over the years, he knows he's indirectly responsible for a lot of blood shed.

Not that most of the humans he tempted needed much help, but the point stands. He's got blood on his hands, he knows it, he's (mostly) fine with it. But not everyone is a demon. Killing probably shouldn't be easy.]

They'll come back. That's the thing about this place, or so I've heard. I don't think they'll hold it against you, once they're back. I've got no hard feelings for the bastard that nearly got me.

...oh.

[He says it like he's come to some kind of realization. He's done that, hasn't he? He's died before, and now here he is.

It's not the most pleasant topic to dwell on.]

Who was it that shot you?

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