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abraxaslogs2021-08-24 10:21 am
abraxasmods) wrote in abraxaslogs2021-08-24 10:21 am
Entry tags:
- !event,
- !npc,
- alucard; the hierophant,
- amos burton; the lovers,
- brad bakshi; the wheel of fortune,
- coraline finch; the tower,
- eponine thenardier; the hanged man,
- estinien wyrmblood; the hermit,
- geralt of rivia; the hanged man,
- gideon nav; strength,
- harrowhark nonagesimus; the magician,
- hector; the magician,
- himeka sui; the fool,
- homelander; judgement,
- jon sims; the high priestess,
- jordan hennessy; the moon,
- julie lawry; the wheel of fortune,
- kay faraday; the fool,
- kylo ren; the tower,
- lloyd henreid; the lovers,
- louis; death,
- majima goro; the hanged man,
- martin blackwood; the empress,
- nadine cross; the world,
- nero (drakengard); the devil,
- phoenix wright; the lovers,
- relena peacecraft; death,
- roland deschain; death,
- ronan lynch; the moon,
- sam wilson; justice,
- sasarai; judgement,
- stephen strange; death,
- yennefer of vengerberg; the chariot
EVENT #3: AN EXECUTION OF SORTS
THE EXECUTION
As if performing a vicious mockery for what should be a somber day, the sun shines brightly in the sky. The rays of sun catch the iron brackets that hold up the gallows that have been erected overnight for the occasion, the gentle breeze causing the noose to swing ominously. Public executions do not happen frequently in Thorne, so a crowd gathers in strained anticipation of the grim sentence.
The welcome guests, who have up until this point been free to come and go within the confines of the castle, have been mandated to view the execution. It is meant to serve both as an example of Thorne’s power as well as a lesson to those who might think to try the same. The courtyard, which was buzzing with quiet murmurs, turns silent as Ambrose strides up the wooden steps of the gallows, flanked by two guards and a haggard-looking Jonathan Sims, arms bound behind him. As the guards march their charge to the trapdoor that will serve as executioner and position the noose around his neck, Ambrose turns to address the crowd that has gathered- willfully or not.
“Citizens of Thorne, our esteemed welcomed guests, it is with disappointment and a heavy heart that we’ve gathered to see to the execution of one of the very guests we sought aid from in our time of need. In a selfish and distrustful act, I was attacked, an action I cannot abide.”
He turns halfway toward his charge. “Jonathan Sims, you are charged with assault and intention of lethal harm. The punishment is to be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”
Ambrose raises his arm to signal the executioner to pull the lever to release the trapdoor beneath Jon’s feet, steely expression locked on the prisoner’s face one last time.
The welcome guests, who have up until this point been free to come and go within the confines of the castle, have been mandated to view the execution. It is meant to serve both as an example of Thorne’s power as well as a lesson to those who might think to try the same. The courtyard, which was buzzing with quiet murmurs, turns silent as Ambrose strides up the wooden steps of the gallows, flanked by two guards and a haggard-looking Jonathan Sims, arms bound behind him. As the guards march their charge to the trapdoor that will serve as executioner and position the noose around his neck, Ambrose turns to address the crowd that has gathered- willfully or not.
“Citizens of Thorne, our esteemed welcomed guests, it is with disappointment and a heavy heart that we’ve gathered to see to the execution of one of the very guests we sought aid from in our time of need. In a selfish and distrustful act, I was attacked, an action I cannot abide.”
He turns halfway toward his charge. “Jonathan Sims, you are charged with assault and intention of lethal harm. The punishment is to be hanged by the neck until you are dead. May the gods have mercy on your soul.”
Ambrose raises his arm to signal the executioner to pull the lever to release the trapdoor beneath Jon’s feet, steely expression locked on the prisoner’s face one last time.
MEANWHILE
Several miles away, atop a hill in the forest, two figures meet between portals. Oliver, tall and lithe, steps out to stand next to a petite waif of a woman who looks at him with a familiar smile. Her voice is lilting like a songbird’s when she speaks up, turning her gaze back over the city.
“Find out anything good?”
He hums softly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Two dozen prisoners, give or take. The one I met was very grateful for our assistance.”
“That’s good. Perhaps her gratitude will endear our cause to them.”
With a nod, he takes a deep breath and then sighs. “It’s time, Elizabeth,” he says, lifting one hand to open a new portal.
She nods and raises her arms above her head, eyes closing in concentration. Her arms begin to glow green while the grass around her begins to ripple in rings. The very ground seems to surge with power that radiates outward from her, and it isn’t long before the castle and the town are engulfed in a heavy air of intense magic. It courses from her in shockwaves.
Satisfied, Oliver steps through the portal.
In the wake of the magic flood, the walls of the dungeons seem to shudder for a long moment, and the doors suddenly clink open. No guards come rushing in to shut them, and in fact, all ambient noise in the dungeons seems to stop as the whole of the people of Thorne freeze in place. The hall becomes lit by daylight as a portal opens at the end of it, showing them the crowd of welcomed guests and Jon alone on the platform.
In the portal, alone stands Oliver, hand offered to the prisoners in welcome. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, though this seems to be by nature rather than intention.
“Please come with me.”
“Find out anything good?”
He hums softly, his hands clasped behind his back. “Two dozen prisoners, give or take. The one I met was very grateful for our assistance.”
“That’s good. Perhaps her gratitude will endear our cause to them.”
With a nod, he takes a deep breath and then sighs. “It’s time, Elizabeth,” he says, lifting one hand to open a new portal.
She nods and raises her arms above her head, eyes closing in concentration. Her arms begin to glow green while the grass around her begins to ripple in rings. The very ground seems to surge with power that radiates outward from her, and it isn’t long before the castle and the town are engulfed in a heavy air of intense magic. It courses from her in shockwaves.
Satisfied, Oliver steps through the portal.
In the wake of the magic flood, the walls of the dungeons seem to shudder for a long moment, and the doors suddenly clink open. No guards come rushing in to shut them, and in fact, all ambient noise in the dungeons seems to stop as the whole of the people of Thorne freeze in place. The hall becomes lit by daylight as a portal opens at the end of it, showing them the crowd of welcomed guests and Jon alone on the platform.
In the portal, alone stands Oliver, hand offered to the prisoners in welcome. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, though this seems to be by nature rather than intention.
“Please come with me.”
CHOICES
Everything is happening quickly.
Once through the portal to the execution yard there's a moment of chaos and confusion at the sudden arrivals and then it stops. Everything and everyone has stopped, save for the guests, the prisoners, and the two mages who have come to their aid. Guards freeze in place. The attended mages are still as statues. Banners lifted by the wind remain where they are and even the noose hanging from the gallows stills.
"Time for them is halted." Oliver addresses the assembled, his voice projected to be heard but his tone calm. "It will remain so for one hour, no more. An hour is all you have to make your choices. Remain here in Thorne, or take a portal to either Solvunn or the Free Cities. The portals cannot be traced by the Thorean authorities, so no need to fear them giving chase.”
Elizabeth emerges from a portal behind him, which closes as she enters the yard. They both raise an arm and two white circles spread through the air, showing new towns in the distance on the other side. There is an ethereal glow around them.
“The Free Cities are martially powerful and seek to destroy the Singularity,” Oliver narrates, gesturing at one of the portals. “Solvunn is reclusive and claims neutrality, both in politics and in regard to the Singularity. I advise that you think hard about your choice. Travel between cities is not exactly easy."
He turns back to the crowd with an almost apologetic smile. “I'm sorry you don't have more time to make this decision. We’ll meet again.”
Opening a third portal with the wave of her arm, Elizabeth, who has not spoken a word, gives the group a wink and leaves with Oliver. Their portal closes behind them, leaving everyone to begin making moves.
Now is the time to make serious choices. Two portals stand in the courtyard, one courtesy of Oliver and one of Elizabeth. The Free Cities and Thorne are enemies, Solvunn watching both to see where the cards end up falling. None trust one another, none work with one another beyond trade through middle-men in Solvunn. The clock is ticking.
Someone should probably get Jon out of that noose.
Once through the portal to the execution yard there's a moment of chaos and confusion at the sudden arrivals and then it stops. Everything and everyone has stopped, save for the guests, the prisoners, and the two mages who have come to their aid. Guards freeze in place. The attended mages are still as statues. Banners lifted by the wind remain where they are and even the noose hanging from the gallows stills.
"Time for them is halted." Oliver addresses the assembled, his voice projected to be heard but his tone calm. "It will remain so for one hour, no more. An hour is all you have to make your choices. Remain here in Thorne, or take a portal to either Solvunn or the Free Cities. The portals cannot be traced by the Thorean authorities, so no need to fear them giving chase.”
Elizabeth emerges from a portal behind him, which closes as she enters the yard. They both raise an arm and two white circles spread through the air, showing new towns in the distance on the other side. There is an ethereal glow around them.
“The Free Cities are martially powerful and seek to destroy the Singularity,” Oliver narrates, gesturing at one of the portals. “Solvunn is reclusive and claims neutrality, both in politics and in regard to the Singularity. I advise that you think hard about your choice. Travel between cities is not exactly easy."
He turns back to the crowd with an almost apologetic smile. “I'm sorry you don't have more time to make this decision. We’ll meet again.”
Opening a third portal with the wave of her arm, Elizabeth, who has not spoken a word, gives the group a wink and leaves with Oliver. Their portal closes behind them, leaving everyone to begin making moves.
Now is the time to make serious choices. Two portals stand in the courtyard, one courtesy of Oliver and one of Elizabeth. The Free Cities and Thorne are enemies, Solvunn watching both to see where the cards end up falling. None trust one another, none work with one another beyond trade through middle-men in Solvunn. The clock is ticking.
Someone should probably get Jon out of that noose.
no subject
"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" he spits. "In case you haven't noticed, we're not in Kansas anymore. Your phone's gonna run out of juice in twelve hours and then your shit alarm won't wake you up and the Lace will either finish you off or feed off a power source about a billion times stronger than the ley line you killed me over and then this world will fucking end. What an awesome plan. You're the real brains of this operation."
no subject
"Stop saying I killed you. Clearly it didn't take."
She swipes up the towel and cleans the remnants of inky goo off her hands as best she can while continuing to seethe about the rest of it.
"I don't know why you're so keen on protecting this shithole with the magic-eating dungeon that's going to kill us both the minute the wizards figure out what you're capable of and your bodyguard gets bored of guarding."
She shoots a challenging look at Kylo, whose role in this whole thing is unclear enough to make her curious despite her general distaste for the whole situation.
no subject
Kylo returns Hennessey's glare with a flat, steady gaze, heavy with the weight of his considerable attention.
"I don't get bored," he informs her.
And it feels true. Kylo seems perfectly capable of standing here until the eventual heat death of the universe, if he chooses. There's a colossal amount of control crackling behind the dark of his eyes.
no subject
"Those wizards brought me here because of what I can do," he tells Hennessy with renewed confidence. "They saved me from your bullshit because they didn't want me rotting on a dead ley line. They wanted me here, with the Singularity, so that I can use it to keep doing exactly what I'm good at."
no subject
"They wanted you. Once again I'm the inferior version. They don't need me and they damn well know it."
She says they, but her eyes say you, in the moment before she realizes she's giving him what he wants in admitting how much he can still hurt her, and that her continued engagement in this stupid argument means it's working.
She's quiet a long moment, holding his gaze, her shoulders finally slumping as she accepts at least this momentary defeat.
"If they put me back in there, I'm letting the Lace have me."
She refuses to die a prisoner in someone else's cage.
no subject
Now that it looks a little less like Hennessy might bite his face off, Ronan circles around to her and leans against the edge of the bed, with VEXED TO NIGHTMARE set beside him.
"They obviously want both of us. You're not the inferior version, you're just the one that got played by the Moderators. The High Mage is looking for people who want to help him and siding with dream-killers is a bad fucking look. But I can talk to him. We can work this out. And then we'll deal with the Lace once and for all."
no subject
"Sure, I'm the one who got played. At least I know better than to let my dream self run the show."
That isn't strictly true; Jordan's the only person allowed to give her advice without a fight. But at least she'd know if she were following her own dream around like a stray puppy asking it for wisdom. Wouldn't she?
She doesn't get a chance to actually contemplate it for long, because she's decided it's at least time to change out of her nightwash-stained clothes and into whatever she's dreamt herself. She unzips the suitcase, staring at what doing so reveals for a long moment before cursing floridly under her breath and digging her hands into what appear to be nothing more than pink foam packing peanuts, enough to overflow the suitcase and spill out onto the floor. She's just about to upend the entire thing in a juvenile snit when her hands touch upon something cool and solid and familiar.
"Holy. Shit."
She can't quite trust her own senses, not even when she pulls out the item in question to stare at it with a growing sense of accomplishment -- the moonlight-bladed sword with FROM CHAOS etched into its hilt.
no subject
He could point out that yes, actually, she did let her dream self run the show. She's done it for at least a decade. But Ronan disagrees with the premise, too. Whatever Bryde is, he's not Ronan. He's not an alternate Ronan or an improved Ronan or even a distilled facet of Ronan. He's simply from Ronan.
Of course, that doesn't counter Hennessy's real point: Ronan was a fool. He'd looked around for someone to trust and found not a single person in his life capable of feeling anything true for him. Something in him had understood that even the people he loved would never love him and so it had given him someone who would remain after everyone else had gone.
What Hennessy doesn't understand is that Bryde wasn't the one who'd played him. It was everyone else. Bryde had been the one to catch him while he was bleeding from all the other knives in his back.
Ronan glances at Kylo, his new lodestar, and he's instantly steadied. Kylo's not his dream. Kylo chose him, and he's still choosing him, unwavering. Hennessy doesn't know shit.
"I told you," Ronan says, returning his attention to her and her dreamt sword. "Things are gonna be different here. You can do anything."
no subject
She doesn't sound convinced. She'd felt like she could do anything before, when she and Ronan had first started dreaming together, before she learned he was doing so much of the work of keeping the Lace away. Before she knew that Bryde's coaching came with an agenda. Before she realized that anything could be a terrifyingly destructive prospect in the wrong hands, even if those hands were hers.
She turns the sword over in her hands, unable to hide the sense of pride and relief that floods her at having it in her possession again. She doesn't show any signs of intending to stab either of the room's occupants with it, though she hasn't ruled out running a wizard through if Ronan's wrong about his ability to keep her out of jail.
She does, however, feel really weird about the other guy just standing there quietly watching all of this without deigning to speak. It's starting to creep her out, so she falls back on the comfort of flippancy when she addresses him again.
"Do you have a magic sword, too, or do you skip all that and go straight for crushing skulls with your bare hands?"
He looks like he probably could, but it seems a bit messier than ideal.
no subject
"Mind," Kylo corrects her smoothly. He's doesn't look at all like he's joking.
He is however still wearing his own magic sword at his hip— the hilt from which a magical blade bursts forth much like his weapon from back home. He doesn't pull it into his hand. "Though I prefer a blade."
no subject
Hennessy looks... okay, a little impressed as she mentally reappraises him. The whole strong and silent thing is clearly working for him. At least he's not another dandy. She's not at all convinced that he's not a dream, but awareness of that possibility is all she needs not to care. It's not her business if Ronan wants to make the same mistake twice.
"Cool."
So long as they're not all about to murder one another, they're good here. For now.