EVENT #15: THE NETHER - IC EVENT LOG

[abraxasmods]

Event #15 - The Nether

OOC event plotting | settings info

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After a Conclave vote earlier this month, you're prepared to accept the formal request from the Nether for your assistance. By now, you'll know who the delegates are and that the dragons have suffered an illness from the rifts that opened this summer, due to the unfortunate actions of one of your fellow Summoned. Whether or not you agree with your Conclave's majority rule, the decision has been made.

The expedition will begin on October 16 and last 10 days. If you need to return home sooner, you can activate your portal stone at any point during the trip, but there's no going back once you do.

Though mysterious, the Draconae - or daemons, as others call them - are not elusive like the Fey. Anyone who's been to Nocwich will have seen a handful of them amongst the population, and some reside in the Free Cities or the outskirts of Thorne. The only nation they aren't found in is Solvunn.

Into the Heart

Your arrival to the Nether is a frosty one. The northern island is barren, save for a thick layer of snow, a few birds, and some hardy insects. Massive skeletal remains can be seen as you walk over the ice. Every few minutes, the ground trembles. The Draconae warriors greet you at the base of the volcano, including Orion, The Warden herself. Though they appear intimidating, they're grateful you're here and will clap you heartily on the back.

Entering the Obsidian Heart requires nerves of steel, but appearances aside, the narrow walkway is sturdy. As long as you're brave, you'll make it down without a problem. The less sure-footed are encouraged to ask for a hand. If they do, they'll be assigned a Draconum warrior who will cheerfully carry them down the winding path. You can also help each other, of course! Any Summoned who are capable can carry their friends, too.

As you venture down, the oppressive heat intensifies...until suddenly it stops. The moment you reach the fiery gates, the smell of brimstone fades from the air and the temperature eases into that of a pleasant summer's day. If asked, the Draconae will tell you this is how it is - a blessing from the two remaining dragons. Without them, the air would suffocate all life within.

Although the main purpose is to aid the dragons, the Draconae will invite characters to take breaks, participate in recreational activities, and explore the Nether. They want their guests to be comfortable, especially as the Summoned have arrived to help.

Around the City

At the center of the volcano lies the Obsidian Heart, where the Draconae reside. Made of stacking homes and stone bridges that spiral downward, it's a wonder how anyone finds their way. There are no maps, signage, or any form of direction. Their ability to navigate appears inherent. The most dangerous beasts lurk beneath the lava, so unless you intend to go swimming, you're unlikely to run into anything aggressive.

Doors and furniture are heavy and are made of iron, bronze, or steel. You might need to push or pull furnishings and doors with both hands and extra effort. Luckily, citizens are happy to help - as long as you ask. If you don't, they won't interfere out of respect for your autonomy. In fact, if they see you huffing and puffing, they might stop to watch and will sincerely cheer for you should you accomplish your objective by yourself.

Watch your sticky fingers. While petty theft is a minor offence in other places, the Draconae are highly protective of their belongings and treasures. Hands and heads have been lost over stolen trinkets.

The Hieran Wing

As a guest, you'll be invited to stay at the Hieran Wing. Named after Hierus, the oldest living dragon, the Hieran Wing is located in the eastern section of the Citadel. The rest of the Citadel is under heavy guard and inaccessible.

◎ The rooms are carved into the stone itself. Bedding is comfortable, if simple, with room to store your belongings. A curved stairwell grants you privacy even though many rooms have curtains rather than doors. The few rooms that have doors contain no locks. Your safety is assured, but if you're nervous, you can ask for a guard to watch you at night.

◎ The dining area consists of open-fire grills, pots, and raw ingredients - including spices and fiery hot peppers. As great believers in self-sufficiency, the Draconae will leave you to make meals to your taste and liking. You can hunt and fish your meat, as well. There are numerous lava pools where one can net jumbo shrimp, crabs, and flaming fish. For larger game, you can go after the Erymaes Boar or Petran Bison. Feel free to share your catch with your friends or offer to cook for the culinarily challenged.

◎ The library contains only fiction. You'll recognize several titles from your faction or Nocwich, suggesting they've brought back their favorite stories to read. Other titles are new, written by the Draconae. Novels and poetry span all genres, but the most common ones seem to be adventure, horror, and erotic romance - some of which contain surprisingly detailed illustrations.

Magma Pools

Outside the Hieran Wing, unusual cerulean magma pools are provided for bathing. Despite how they look, temperatures are equivalent to that of a steaming hot spring. The magma bubbles naturally from within the volcano and provides soothing effects. No soap or cleaning agents are required. These magma pools contain tiny frogs that leap and jump around. The Draconae consider them a tasty live snack. Don't be surprised if you see a local munching on them.

The Foundry

The Foundry has expanded over the past two centuries. A marketplace now circles the ancient forge. Observing the tradespeople inside and their secrets are off-limits. However, you can browse a selection of tools, clothes, accessories, and potions. Healing potions are common due to the Draconae's lack of healing magic.

You'll have the chance to request custom-made jewelry and purchase glass ornaments that are blown for you on the spot. Merchants won't sell the large weapons on display, but daggers and other small weapons are available. They'll also modify any pieces you own by adding jewels, altering the fit, or repairing nicks and faults...for a price. The Draconae deal in Abraxan currency if you have any, but they'll accept a vial or two of blood or saliva as payment.

Negotiations & Meetings (Rank 5+)

The first order of business is to present your Conclave's terms to the Inner Sanctum, the Draconae's governing body. If you've been voted as a delegate, you'll be greeted by the NPC meeting you (and your partner, if you have one). If you haven't been selected, you can still speak to some of the NPCs available.

A Place at the Table

Negotiations will take place in The Solar on the second day, a hall lit with a fiery orb of light. This is where the Inner Sanctum conducts all of its business. Tightly guarded, you're the first outsiders allowed inside in centuries. Here, you'll have the chance to present your terms and convince the Draconae to accept. You'll also have the first day of your arrival to gather a few details about the NPC you'll be meeting.

Only one meeting is required. The Nether will give you their final answer the following day.

Be sure to reply with the terms before starting the thread. Mods will approve or ask for revisions, so try to submit your points by OCTOBER 17.

Once approved, please TAG IN with your character under the correct faction heading.

Meeting the Inner Sanctum

Members of the Inner Sanctum who are not involved in diplomatic affairs are Aster, The Guardian and Anneth, The Flame. Additional descriptions about the two NPCs and where they can be found will be in their character comments below.

Characters who are Rank 5+ (negative or positive) and who are not acting as delegates can speak with one of the two NPCs above.

To do so, TAG IN with your character under the NPC you want to meet.

Runaway at Pyritean's Rack

Abraxan outsiders will whisper that Pyritean's Rack is a nefarious torture device created by the Draconae for their victims. This is true if the victim in question is delicious meat. The Rack, in other words, is a giant cooking area filled with grilling racks and pits. Shelves of ingredients and spices line the perimeter. Its most striking feature is the primary heat source, which uses magma rather than fire. Ingredients and meat unique to the Nether result in dishes and flavors not found elsewhere. Hot peppers are a popular feature.

The Draconae cook and share their food each night at the Rack. The station is always occupied. Locals take turns hunting and fishing, preparing ingredients, and cooking. Consequently, food is provided without cost. You only need to lend a hand.

Not everything goes smoothly, though. An escaped hatchling has infiltrated the Rack, and Khloris, the baby dragon, is eager to snatch and steal food throughout the week.

Earning the Torch

Impromptu competitions are frequent. They usually begin when one cook sees another outdoing them and makes a challenge. You can either issue a challenge or receive a challenge. Challenges can be between you and the natives, or you can face off with another Summoned. Judging is done by the crowd, which can be chaotic.

Not to worry! There's no downside to losing except your pride. Though the competition can grow fierce and heated in the moment - including vulgar insults and much jeering - once all is said and done, there are no grudges when the food hits the table. Sore losers are looked down on as being thin-skinned.

Winners will receive a jar of spice mix or marinating sauce from one of the many talented cooks. We won't be modding this aspect, so just be realistic with your character's cooking skills. Be sure to work things out with your thread partner if the competition involves another player character!

Escaped Hatchling

One young dragon has escaped its sanctuary at Dragon's Glass. Curious, it's drawn to the smell of food at Pyritean's Rack. As a result, it's disrupting competitions, breaking equipment, and stealing ingredients or even chunks of meat off people's plates. Desperate to get the dragon back before it causes more trouble - or worse, injures itself - the Draconae have asked you to catch the hatchling.

Of course, you'll need to contend with the dragon's unique abilities.

Khloris, the runaway in question, leaves behind small patches of grass. Its pollen dust coats nearly everything it goes near. When eaten or touched, the pollen causes flowers to sprout in your hair for a day or two. It can't fly far or very high, but it's prone to swooping down to snatch meat off the grill. The Flame informs you the dragon can be lured with gold trinkets or bright colors like red and yellow.

To see if your character can catch the dragon, submit for a roll HERE. Submissions will close October 18 at 11:59 ET. Results will be posted on October 19 so players can account for their success or failure.

Ailing Dragons

The two ailing dragons are Hierus, the Obsidian Drake, and Kruos, the Glass Serpent. Mated to each other, they're the only remaining adult dragons in the Nether and have been for decades. When you visit them at Dragon's Glass, their condition is worrisome. The dragons' scales have lost their luster and are grown over with painful white patches. They appear lethargic.

Those researching can offer the dragons healing potions or ointment to aid their symptoms while a cure is worked on. If you're not much of a healer or a scientist, you can feed them or simply spend time with them. The dragons are intelligent and appear capable of understanding you, though they can't communicate directly.

Characters have 3 avenues of participation, depending on their interests and strengths: gathering ingredients, researching the cure, and looking after the baby dragons and eggs. They'll have time to do all three throughout the 10-day excursion.

Finding a Cure

At first, you aren't sure where or how to start. The Draconae suggest the Ashlands may be a place to explore. It's dangerous, they warn, but they have a potion that'll help keep you safe. Due to the hazards, you're told not to go alone. As you travel through the deadened land, you notice an odd phenomenon: where you walk, the air around you clears, and the ground beneath your feet springs to life. You realize you don't need the potion to protect you.

The changes are temporary, fading behind you as you walk. Curiously, the effect you exhibit is similar to what the Draconae claim their dragons are capable of - though to a much smaller degree. Still, you have to wonder if you and the dragons share a similar magical connection to the Singularity. You can't help but notice that those of you who regularly interact with the Horizon and have been doing so for a while seem to affect your environment more. Your aura may be a little larger and the vicinity restored around you lasts a bit longer rather than melting away immediately - maybe even up to a minute or two.

Restoration and Gathering

Your ability to restore the land has unlocked a vital element. Ingredients once thought lost can now be gathered by the Summoned such as yourself, and they may hold the key to curing the dragons. Bring back these ingredients to your peers waiting at Dragon's Glass. The more you gather, the more they'll be able to research and experiment, so don't be shy about making multiple trips.

There are three sections for you to explore. Each one has its dangers and a specific ingredient to collect.

Due to its circumstances, Aetherie is only available on Day 9 of the event, shortly before the cure is finalized. The Draconae will seal the area once more when they realize what's happening. Cinder's Core and Featherhive are open for the full duration of the event.

◎ Cinder's Core

Filled with petrified trees and fossilized bones, the area that restores around you demonstrates its previous life as a flourishing rainforest: the humidity grows, the grass turns lush, and tropical flowers sprout under your fingertips. Although its sulfuric air won't affect you, you'll need to brave dangerous heights to reach the tops of trees and dried-up waterfall cliffs to retrieve the kydros fruit. The fruit smells like citrus and is surprisingly light despite its size.

Vines brought back to life can help you climb, forming ropes for you to climb and bridges that weave beneath your feet. They'll wither once more behind you, so you'll want to move quickly to avoid losing your footing. Height isn't the only danger - the ground below is littered with sharp skeletal protrusions and jagged trees. Beware of dangerous thorn bushes that will come to life in your presence and try to crush you in their spiny embrace as you ascend.

◎ Featherhive

The air here is too toxic for the Draconae to breathe in for long. Luckily you're unaffected. Scattered across the ground are the remaining husks of birds' nests. A dragon's skeleton curls under a rocky overhang. Use your restorative ability to journey deep into Featherhive's heart. Pushing aside the thick overgrowth reveals a small clearing covered in bright crystals for you to harvest.

Although Featherhive poses no physical danger, the land is haunted by shadow birds, ethereal spirits connected to the dragons - and you. As you pass through, they flutter around you and parrot familiar lines to each other. Their movements are jerky and strange. Quickly, you realize the birds are mimicking your memories. They might replicate an entire scene or echo a phrase or two that's plagued you all your life. Or, if you're lucky, they're merely repeating your grocery list. Shooing them will cause them to dissipate into smoke, but they'll soon return.

◎ Aetherie

The loss of a dragon released a noxious gas through this village without warning. Escaping villagers were forced to leave behind those they could not save and seal the doors. The Oblivion is a painful moment in history for many, and none have set foot near the area since. Near the end of your stay, the Draconae request you use your ability to venture where they can't and gather Anoix pods, powerful healing seeds from a plant that only grew in Aetherie. They believe the abandoned huts will contain pouches of the pods on shelves and cabinets.

Entering the village, you expect a tragic scene of corpses. Instead, you find something far worse. The dead have mutated into grotesque arachnids, limbs fused to bulbous abdomens. They show no signs of recognition or awareness and attack you on sight. Hidden in the depths of the purple haze, rat-sized spiders scurry forth. Their venom causes painful sores that will fester and spread if left untreated. Multiple bites may result in temporary blindness or paralysis of a limb. Luckily, this will clear up within 24 hours to a few days, depending on the severity.

Grab the pods if you can or flee if you're overwhelmed. When word reaches The Warden, she'll rapidly send her people to reseal the abandoned village and come to aid any who need it. If you're injured, The Flame and her apprentices will tend to you at Dragon's Glass.

Research and Magic

Dragon's Glass is a glass-domed temple said to be forged from the fires of Kruos. It's located in the Spiral, which is outside the Obsidian Heart. Here, the two remaining dragons reside while ill, along with their clutch of eggs and a few precious hatchlings.

Anneth, The Flame, will invite you into the temple's alchemy labs, where you can apply your skills and knowledge to create the healing elixir that cures the dragons. Doing so requires you to experiment with key ingredients found in the Ashlands. You'll have access to basic alchemy books and apprentices at the temple. Use any additional tools, supplies, and knowledge you possess, and take advantage of the resources donated by the factions.

How you approach your research is up to you, but each ingredient comes with a set of risks - so be careful while you work!

◎ The kydros fruit contains seeds that will explode when heated, causing a chain reaction like popped popcorn. The explosions aren't large, but they might scorch your supplies. Crushing them in the open air results in a similar chemical reaction. However, soaking them in water makes them soften into mush, allowing you to turn the seeds into a paste that could be useful. The fruit is similar to grapefruit and is excellent for a sore throat.

◎ The crystals come in three colors: red, blue, and black. Extended contact will dye your skin that color. The stains are extraordinarily stubborn, so your clothes may not recover. These crystals resonate with a strange hum that suggests they respond well to magic spells. Combining them with a liquid will give off a foul-smelling smoke, so you may need to find ways to neutralize the stench before combining it into an elixir.

◎ The Anoix pods must be used sparingly, as no more can be gathered from Aetherie. They possess strong healing properties, but each pod is very delicate and must be split open with care so as not to damage the soft seeds inside. In addition to researching the cure, you can also attempt to help the Dracaone grow new Anoix plants using the preserved seeds.

The final cure will use all 3 key ingredients. Don't worry too much about continuity! As long as your character participated, you can assume they made a valuable contribution.

However, to assist with coordination, we've provided a RESEARCH DISCOVERY section where you can present any findings your character would share with others in-game.

Hatchlings and Eggs

While curing the adult dragons is a priority, the hatchlings and eggs aren't to be neglected. Baby dragons are active troublemakers, and without their parents to keep them in line, they've become especially unruly. The apprentices at the temple can only do so much. The Keeper has even made rare appearances in Dragon's Glass to lend his assistance.

Meanwhile, the eggs are beginning to show signs of affliction. The shells are beginning to weaken, and the feathery growths appearing on them will suffocate the hatchling inside if left untreated.

Babysitting the Dragons

If you have a spare moment, you can look after the baby dragons. Keep them out of trouble by reading their favorite stories, singing songs, and playing with them. They'll also need to be fed, watered, and their bedding changed or fluffed. The hatchlings are mischievous but friendly. They're eager to bond with the Summoned for reasons unexplained, as if they feel something resonating within you.

Many are attracted to shiny objects and bright colors and will attempt to steal them. Conversely, they might gift you a trinket that they've pilfered from someone else. The local Draconae would appreciate it if you returned any missing tools or jewels.

Hatchlings you'll encounter in Dragon's Glass are:

◎ Okenus spouts water instead of flame. Bearing fins instead of wings, this sea dragon is vital to bringing lakes and rivers back to the Nether. Currently, it can only make tiny puddles and rainclouds. Watch that your belongings don't get wet. Standing near the dragon might cause a small storm cloud to spawn over you and rain down on your head. A simple spell will make the cloud disappear, but if you don't have any magic, you might have to bring an umbrella.

◎ Epeius can form miniature gusts of wind beneath its wings, but it doesn't have firm control and frequently spawns them when excited. These small dust devils and whirlwinds will follow you around. Though they aren't powerful, they can be a nuisance, knocking over cups, blowing away hats, and sending papers flying. The other hatchlings will find your misfortune a source of amusement.

◎ Ledas can help salt deposits form in the shape of large salt crystals. Salt is important to the Draconae, which the hatchling is aware of and thus takes great pride in its abilities. The crystals can be eaten as is or crushed into granules. Ledas will strive to impress you with the largest crystals that it can make...which occasionally results in the structure collapsing, littering the ground with salt. You might find yourself sweeping often around this dragon, but at least you'll never be short on seasoning.

◎ Anthusa is a very special hatchling that creates bioluminescent algae. The algae grow on its scales, forming a symbiotic relationship. Unfortunately, without a proper habitat for this algae in the Nether, its glow has dimmed in recent years and the hatchling has become languid and sickly despite its youth. Nonetheless, Anthusa is friendly and curious even if it struggles to keep up with its siblings. You can help Anthusa play by lifting it to heights it can't reach, and carrying it back when the dragon is too tired to walk.

Weakened Eggs

As noted, the eggs demonstrate signs of suffering, too. Three eggs are waiting to be hatched. Whether all of the eggs survive is dependent on the decision that each faction Conclave made regarding resources found, as well as the help provided by you and your fellow Summoned.

The eggs can't be cured until the dragons are cured, but you can help slow the growths by gently scraping them off and wiping the eggs regularly with a clean cloth. They must also be kept heated, so check the magma frequently and refill any magma basins. The growths can be donated to those researching for additional study if you wish.

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Comments

geralt of rivia — ◈ free cities | hanged man

[gynvael]

— starters below —
plot comment | discontinued | quantifies @ discord

— ◈ dean.

[gynvael]

[ The Netherfolk assured him that no monsters lurk in these parts. (Geralt's slung his sword over his back just in case.) True to their word, the land isn't filled with anything except withered husks and jagged fossils. Not a single stir. He's passed through villages consumed by plagues, but even then, one could hear the call of the birds, the buzzing flies, dogs barking. This is an eerie void absent the barest hint of life.

Except where they step, that is. The air grows sticky, dampening his hair, his clothes. The rough cartilage cliffs become slippery and wet with green when he climbs. That may be why he proceeds a little slower than Dean might be accustomed to seeing. The real reason is not one he's spoken of yet to his friend.

He keeps a steady pace even so, grasping a thin, dried vine that revitalizes under his fingers to haul himself up the edge. Bright indigo flowers burst under his palm, then fade as he stands and steps forward.

He scans the high ridges stretching towards the nonexistent sky. Whatever Dean happens to be saying to him, it receives a vague grunt. ] I'm not sure that's what it's meant for.

[ They might've had a similar conversation, in the past. ]

[righteously]

( It reminds him a little of the End of the World — that place Zachariah zapped him to once, a sullen and empty husk of a city, the bones of buildings, lifeless, dead. Skeletons of civilization, fossils of the way it used to be. He's half-expecting at any moment for a hoard of creepy dragon zombies to come swarming out of the husks of trees or something, but so far it's been eerily silent. Somehow, that's almost worse.

They start to climb. It only takes one slip of the hand before Dean mutters screw this under his breath, and bamfs out the wings. With a grimace across his lips, he glances down the five or six feet he's managed to climb, then pushes himself backwards, squeezing his eyes shut, flapping furiously. Thankfully they do the same thing they've always done, literally what they're intended to do, and he breezes up past Geralt to land at the first flat spot above him. He's not gonna stray too far from the guy on the off-chance something goes down, but... look, remember that one time they went hunting and Geralt out-cardio'd him up that freaking cliff face? Screw that noise. He's gonna just stand here and be smug, watching Geralt struggle to ascend.

He raises his voice slightly, but he doesn't yell — Geralt's got stupid Wolverine senses, he can hear just fine. )

Trust me, that's exactly what they're used for, and it's disgusting. Ancient Rome, man... everybody loves to talk about the Colosseum and the invention of politics, but nobody wants to talk about the poop sponge.

[gynvael]

[ First Sam, then Nero, then Jaskier, now Dean. Why is it that every soul he befriends can invariably take flight?

He doesn't answer while he scales up the next ridge. Not because he's concentrating but because he needs a moment to absorb how they even got to the subject in the first place. It's probably (absolutely) Dean's fault. He's learning more about this...stick than he is about Rome. He's also learning several things about Dean in the process. ]

You realize I don't hail from a place with running water. [ They have running water here, in Cadens, and it's been a blessing he hadn't known he was missing. Not having to haul and heat water one bucket at a time used to be a privilege granted only to mages and those wealthy enough to pay someone to do the work.

He digs his fingers into a rocky crevice, but as he starts to pull himself up, a sharp pain shoots through his leg. He curses, grip loosening on instinct—and slips entirely. ]

— ◈ blake.

[gynvael]

The last time they wound up on an excursion together, Blake had come to Geralt asking if he could lend his sword. Since monster slaying was the job in question, Geralt had agreed. He is not, however, an escort or a guard. Had they not spent time in the mines together, he'd have told Blake there isn't any reason for an escort, and certainly not one of a Witcher's calibre. As far as he's aware, no beasts roam the Nether beyond easy game to be hunted.

But he does recall the pit, the mineshafts, and Blake's reaction each time. So he agrees now, too, grabbing his sword with a sigh that's not really about Blake. Between the politics, the dying dragons, and more politics, he isn't eager to see what unravels by the end of all this. Ideally, nothing that involves more dead dragons or assassination attempts.

They trek towards Featherhive. Could've been his suggestion, could've been Blake's; regardless, Geralt believes it's one of the safer areas in the barren Ashlands. He isn't sure how well Blake can scale a cliff, but discovering the answer is not worth watching the man impale himself on the jagged fossils below.

Mimicking birds should be tolerable. Granted, no one's clarified what they mimic.

At the edge of the poisoned foliage, he indicates for Blake to wait—moving ahead to make sure the area does, in fact, render itself harmless before he gestures for Blake to follow.

He'll never get used to the effect. It's strange to possess this type of...healing magic as a Witcher.

"Watch your head."

[oversight]

If asked, Blake won't pretend that Geralt isn't there, in part, to soothe his otherwise uncertain reenty into this life, but there is an added benefit of knowing the man is remarkably quiet and incredibly dangerous should anything come along and try to make trouble. Geralt had proven once before to be an excellent tracker, easily seeking out Blake in the dark and winding mines; any chance they might be separated here should be easily resolved as well.

But as strategic as Blake's been about asking the Witcher along, he's also found himself more and more curious about the man in the months since they'd first met. Geralt seeks no infamy but attains it regardless. He has all the hallmarks of a quiet family man, and based on how quickly he's warning Blake of danger, used to caring for those who might otherwise sacrifice themselves to stupidity well before they can do so for the sake of honor.

"Thanks," Blake says, his thin smile flashing in the illuminated canopy. He doesn't fear this place as much because of its open structure, but there's no denying the way his heart has picked up speed as the shadows have deepened.

Pulling tightly at the strap of the bag slung over his shoulder, stretching and twisting the leather between his hands, he continues forward until a shudder in the tall grass gives way to a pair of stark black birds with glowing eyes.

"You should use your full name, Robin," one bird says as it flies up and perches on a low branch. The other glides between trees over the path, adding, "I like that name. You should use your full name." Blake pays them no mind, but a cacophony (or caw-cawphony, if you prefer) cries out from the treetops, dozens lacking concordance as they exclaim, "It's Johnny, it's Johnny!" for several seconds, overlapping their shrill and petulant reminders before dying off just as quickly.

Turning to spare Geralt a glance, he frowns and pushes forward, barely resisting the urge to hide behind the larger man. "Weird," is all he has to say for the moment, because that's easier than asking questions that might spawn questions in return.

cw: references to child abuse onward

[gynvael]

Though his sword is in his hand, it's remained sheathed; he's primarily using it to push aside the dense brush that revitalizes their vicinity. Geralt's seen those with a larger footprint, but his is a modest circumference for reasons he's yet to piece together. He keeps pace with Blake to be sure the man doesn't fall behind.

The terrain is flat, at least. Geralt's gaze falls on a massive curved spine as they pass—until the flutter of wings takes his attention away.

He frowns. It takes him a second to realize the birds are talking. The mimicry is startlingly clear.

After a moment, he knocks one of the branches with the back of his hand. The boughs give a violent shudder. With a caw in protest, the birds vanish into shadowy wisps.

Weird is right. Unsettling.

They manage only a few steps before the birds descend once more. Lesson learnt, they land on a much higher branch. One cocks its head, and Geralt swears it's looking straight at him. Its feathers puff, agitated. Not the animal itself, but the gesture—play-acting. When it squawks, the sound is high-pitched, childlike.

You ain’t fed us in days!

The chorus of birds echo in agreement, heads bobbing.

Now we're playing with swords!

A stitch forms between his brows.

"Come on." He turns from the shadows. They follow from branch to branch, still complaining about their growling stomachs and thin blankets. "We should move quickly."

— ◈ michael.

[gynvael]

[ That they've been left to fend for themselves suits Geralt just fine. Compared to the fussy extravagance and games of the Feywilds, the Nether's forthright simplicity is appreciated.

Fishing in a steaming magma pool is a sufficiently intriguing concept. He could use the time away from the squawking birds pecking at memories that should remain buried, and he needs to bring something back for dinner tonight, anyhow. Seeing as he's the only one out of the lot of them who hunts. (Ciri aside.)

Typically, Geralt prefers netting over casting a rod—it's a matter of efficiency—but the Draconum at the market had bluntly told him they were out of netting and pushed a metal rod into his hands without another word. So. Here he is. Reeling fish at the nearby...(lake? Ocean?)

A fish is in his hand when he hears footsteps approaching. Geralt glances sidelong to the left. His catch flops on the line, molten sparks flying. ]

[familysucks]

[Though Michael has no use for any fish or game, his roommates might. Claire seems to have a rapport with the scowling tower of a man sharing their temporary living arrangements but Michael feels compelled to look after his own regardless. Failing that, the dragon hatchlings seem ravenous. One way or another, whatever he pulls in will not go to waste.

His real motivation is simply to learn whatever he can about the Nether. They've never been here before, and considering the ailing status of the dragons that are apparently the keystone of the local ecosystem, who knows if they'll ever have opportunity to return?

Fishing pole in hand, he invites himself over to where Geralt stands by the edge of the lake. He picks a spot a few feet away—just outside of wing's reach, the archangel definition of personal space.]

Geralt.

[The thing Geralt holds in hand is as fiery as the magma it was pulled from, but still unmistakably a fish. It's reassurance that fishing in the magma pools is not some grand joke being played on them by the draconae.]

Somehow I wasn't expecting their fish to look the part. The animals here speak of larger beasts beneath the surface.

[As much as the animals are able to communicate, that is. Their answers tend to be very simple and require some assembly to make a proper picture.]

[gynvael]

[ The fish goes into the basket beside him. He's collecting more than what he needs, but he finds the activity a peaceful distraction and the Netherfolk seem eager to share resources. He imagines the fish will end up in someone's gullet one way or another.

Larger beasts. Hm. ] Ominous of them.

[ He casts the line back into the magma, suddenly wondering if he will reel in one of those larger beasts. He's yet to see one lurking, though the ground has got a habit of trembling. ]

Didn't know your people fished.

[ Or ate or slept. As far as he's learned from Castiel, that is. Apparently, they do talk to animals, which Geralt decides not to question. He's learned that asking after the entities and creatures on Dean's sphere opens up an endless flood of baffling information. He came here to clear his mind, not unravel more mysteries. ]

— ◈ claude.

[gynvael]

[ It's not that Geralt isn't fond of the tiny hatchlings. They're...endearing. In their own way. He's just better suited to doing the work of hunting and gathering. With so many doting on the young dragons, he sees little reason to stick his hand in it.

This does not mean they have not stuck their hands on him. Or claws, as it were. Julie keeps bringing one to their room, for one; for another, the silver medallion around his neck seems to attract them, as does the shining gold phoenix affixed to his sword hilt. He's already caught one attempting to pry it off in its jaws.

When another latches on again, he sighs. Its lily-pink wings flap. A gust of wind flutters his hair. He was only at Dragon's Glass to speak to Yennefer, not to be accosted by small dragons.

Still, he's gentle as he tries to coax it from where it's gripped the edges of the brooch with its claws. It hasn't got the strength to budge the piece, but it's certainly making an effort. ] You can't have that. If you let go, I'll bring you a fish.

[godshattering]

[ The hatchlings have occupied most of his time, especially now that negotiations have ended. Whatever help their presence seems to provide is something Claude's glad to do considering the alchemy and potions side of this - curious as he's been about it all - is better left to those who have more experience than his own more personal potions investigations.

He's seated on the floor with his legs stretched out before him and one baby dragon sprawled out across his lap snoring away without a care in the world, and one more rustling around somewhere doing something to entertain itself while he's reading a book. Silently this time since most of the potential winged audience is elsewhere, and it's not until there's a familiar voice that he looks up. Geralt's plight is a familiar one, what with how the necklace he's wearing has been a popular target for teeth and claws looking to claim it until he'd finally tucked it more beneath his shirt collar.

There's a bit of sympathy involved for that bargaining since he's tried it himself, but - Claude's also content to help. Or 'help' since that's a more accurate way of putting it. ]

I dunno, I think it might be worth a couple fish if you ask me. [ Teasingly, and from experience in trying to bargain with the babies equally eager for shiny things and treats. ] Maybe we ought to make a trip back to see what we can catch to help out that bargain, even if I think this little one might be content to eat any and all catches.

[gynvael]

[ His first reaction is surprise at seeing Claude, but then he recalls Hilda's apparent collection of lizards (according to Altair) and Claude's stable of wyverns. In light of that, it's fitting for the man to entertain these creatures.

He grunts, annoyed but not truly so. ] I'd hate to be responsible for loosing another into the city.

[ They're wily things. And Geralt is frankly not experienced in catching children prone to wandering off. He skipped that phase with Ciri. (She still wanders off, just. In a different, much more complicated way.)

He gives up, lowering his sword back at his side while the dragon remains attached. Eventually, it'll tire. He hopes. ]

You completed your talks?

— ◈ istredd.

[gynvael]

Another time, Geralt would have no interest in returning to the overgrowth of illusory mockingbirds. The healers require more crystals, though, and Geralt is all too aware of the importance of what they're doing. It isn't the memories that bother him. They're personal, uncomfortable, but not dangerous. No. What he fears is Ciri's secrets spilling from the squawking shadows.

Secrets Istredd already has. Other than Yen and Jaskier, Istredd knows the most, in fact. About Ciri, the Continent, the history of the Witchers. Despite his reluctance, Geralt agrees to go with the mage. He imagines having company will prevent strangers from approaching him—and also obscure precisely whose memories the birds are toying with.

He leaves his sword behind. The only weapon is the dagger in his boot. After several days in the Nether, he's comfortable enough to gauge what threats lurk where, and the Ashlands, while eerie, bear no beasts. No signs of life at all.

The birds do not gather immediately. For a while, the trek with Istredd is peaceful. Then the flap of wings soon echoes around them. Geralt's gaze flicks to the bird, wary. He shoos it away—and it dissipates into a swirling cloud of smoke. A chillingly human scream, guttural and terrified, fades with it.

Fucking birds. They never vanish for long.

[magicalarchaeologist]

Istredd has been working non-stop since arriving trying to figure out a cure with the other researchers. Yennefer's been taking a point on some alchemy sides so he's been assisting, and sometimes sleep and food have been distant thoughts. He does love a project! But it seemed a good time to stretch his legs and at least he can feel useful getting more ingredients. The crystals are the safest of the lot since all that happens are the birds, which he's heard about.

There is nothing in his history that he'd be worried about Geralt hearing and since the witcher agreed to come here, he assumes they'll both live with whatever happens. Or maybe they'll get lucky and just get the crystals and go. The two of them are peacefully quiet on their walk, not feeling like they have to fill up the silence, which is something Istredd appreciates.

The bird appears though and he knows that's headed no where good, but he definitely does not expect a terrified scream to come out of no where, almost jumping out of his skin in the process. "One of yours." Since it's going to be one of theirs, and Istredd doesn't have many screams in his head. Except for at Thanedd, and there was not a lot of screaming, outside of defiant ones as people fought.

[gynvael]

One of his. "So it seems."

Geralt continues on without further comment. They've pecked at remnants of his past each time, old voices from decades ago. Some he recalls with clarity; others are little more than a faded echo. The screams are too numerous to place. They might be his, or they might belong to a stranger. Or one of many forgotten boys, long dead after the Trials were completed.

Where the crow vanished, three more take its place. They flutter in from a distant nowhere. Their wings do not rustle the brush they fly through. They hop from one bough to another to keep up, silent for a short while. Then they open their beaks—only no words come. The noise they emit is an uncanny rumbling, crackling cacophony. It takes him a second to realize they're mimicking the roaring of flames, and the longer it goes on, the more it becomes eerily accurate. He can almost smell the black smoke choking the air and the copper blood blooming across the snow. More swoop down to join, screaming over the ceaseless din.

He freezes, forgetting Istredd for a moment.

They'll come for us. They hate us they hate us they'll come—

An annoyed sound comes from his throat. He moves on again.

"Haven't you mages got a silencing spell?"

— ◈ claire.

[gynvael]

[ Featherhive has rapidly become more of a headache than he predicted. He stayed to finish the task. No point in turning around when the birds were already latched onto his mind. Once the crystals are gathered, though, he leaves without pause.

Or that is his intent. A cry waylays him; he can't tell if it's from yet more feathery shadows or a person. He steps around the leaf-covered boulders, dried twigs and nests crumbling beneath his boot. The splash of magic turns the ground into a lush green before it fades to dust behind him. One has to wonder what caused these phantoms to spawn. Shards of the land's memory? Spirits connected to the dragon who once lived here? His connection to Chaos isn't strong enough to tell.

It's eerie to trust the magic to hold. Geralt is less concerned for himself—poisons do not affect him the same as a human—and though he doesn't think this place holds any danger, there's always a chance. His sword remains sheathed, but it is held loosely in his grip as he investigates the noise. ]

thank you 😘

[beautifullies]

[ She knew better than to come out alone, but if she's going to help in the least dangerous place, she doesn't want her memories being listened to by anyone else. She can handle the birds alone, or so she thinks.

She must have been separated from Geralt by the treeline, just out of sight when the birds decided to descend. They don't hurt her, but they're large in number and overwhelm her to the point of tripping over a crystal. It's her cry from the stumble that catches Geralt's attention, but soon the birds are cawing the echo of a long-ago goodbye.

I'll name the baby Brian, after your father weeps Claire's ghost of a voice through the beak of a bird. And though it was twenty years ago and they've since been reunited, she remembers the pain of their separation as clearly as if it had been yesterday.

There are 'I love yous' and more tearfully repeated goodbyes, and then only a symphony of cawing as they surround Claire, stopping just short of actually pecking at her. ]

<3

[gynvael]

[ Behind the thick boughs he pushes aside, a dark-haired woman stands. The flock of ravens converge around her, crowing just as they had with him. He stops short, understanding, at once, that he's stumbled on a scene he is not meant to witness.

It's too late to back out without looking as if he's fleeing, so Geralt doesn't move. At least not until they hop closer and closer towards her, an overwhelming feathery shadow—and then he's stepping in to knock the branches with the pommel of his sword. They give a warbling protest and dissipate into a hazy mist.

Which leaves the two of them alone. (For now. The birds don't ever seem to vanish for long.)

He studies the woman for a moment. She isn't familiar to him, but there have been a few new faces as of late. He'd remember her, he thinks, had they crossed paths before. ]

Sorry. I heard a...noise.

[ She's obviously not in any real trouble, though. ]

— ◈ rocket.

[gynvael]

[ The problem with the crystals is Geralt hasn't any method of identifying their location. Somewhere in the center of the thick brush is all they're told. He's used to foraging in the woods, but these carry no scent and have no particular indication of growth. It leads him to spend more time in this damn place than he wants.

Frankly, he should leave before the birds descend again, but he's reluctant to abandon the job when he's already spent the last hour collecting crystals from a patch on the opposite end. May as well finish.

The trees rustle. From the flapping crows, he assumes. A dark mist trails behind them. It isn't his first encounter. Occasionally, they imitate nonsense—incomprehensible snatches plucked from ghosts in his memories. Sometimes they say too much. The ones surrounding him now spout a voice he only ever seems to remember in his darkest dreams.

What about that one? He's a resilient brat.

Come along, boy. The next Trials are ready.

A pity about the others. Perhaps we ought to recalculate the formula.

He swats the branch with the back of his hand, hard enough to drive the flock away. Most of the flock. A final crow lurks on a branch high above. He doesn't notice until it unleashes an unholy scream, a piercing animal noise.

He steps back abruptly—and bumps his head against a rocky overhang. ] Fuck.

[respiting]

[ Man. All Rocket wants to do is just ... get in here, there, wherever the freakin' crystals are, collect as many of them as he can carry (he's brought with him a kind of expandable sack), and then head back. Maybe grab some dinner. Then head back to his room, and see if one of the guys he's staying with is really up for reading some dirty stories aloud.

It's a simple ask, but it's apparently too much for today to handle.

The voices and shadow-y mist birds have left him alone for now, but it's their voices echoing someone else that catches his attention. And with enhanced hearing like the kind he possesses, it's not hard to pinpoint where their next target happens to be. The loud screams help. ]

There's rock above you.

[ Hi, Geralt.

Rocket hops down from the top of said rocky overhang, eyeing the black birds before landing on his feet. He bares his teeth at them, but then he regrets it immediately. ]

Uh. These things ... they seem to be causing a whole lot of trouble, huh?

[gynvael]

[ Rock and a talking wolverine, it seems. Geralt turns around, one eyebrow cocked. Now that he sees him, he realizes that's who he's been hearing rustling through the overgrowth beneath the fluttering crows.

Rocket's bared teeth have shut the screaming bird up, at least. The noise rings through the overgrown woods. He doesn't know how long Rocket was listening. He's not sure he wants to know.

Come along, boy, the others croak on a loop. We've prepared the Grasses. ]

They're only echoes. [ His darkened expression belies the curt reply.

He shoulders the bag he's carrying, intending to move on—whether or not Rocket wishes to follow—except the birds descend in a thick cloud, obscuring his path. A strange metallic clicking begins to reverberate deep in each bird's chest. The sound sharpens by the second until he finally recognizes it as the heavy weight of a bolted door, locking itself again and again into infinity.

A kinetic burst of magic scatters the phantom shades. Silence falls.

He lowers his hand with a sigh and glances back at Rocket. Sooner or later, he'll run into someone, and at this juncture, he'd rather keep Rocket than face another stranger entirely with these fucking things. Without fail, they'll return. He's learned that much about them. ]

Coming?

— ◈ jo.

[gynvael]

At some point, after encountering the first mutated beast and crossing paths with Dean and Jo alongside Ciri, they lose sight of each other—or he loses sight of them, at least. Geralt's first instinct is to search for his daughter. After what happened not long ago in his memories, he isn't keen on being separated from her.

He ducks through the haphazard rows of abandoned homes. He's seen this before: a corrupted land that transforms into a curse. Part of him wonders if the presence of the dragons contained the curse or if their deaths set loose something that was never meant to be here. Maybe it doesn't matter in the end.

For a while, he can only hear the shrill screeching in the distance. He follows it, unsure if the fray will lead him where he needs to be. He isn't too concerned. The three of them can hold their own, together or apart. Even so, this land has already proven unpredictable. The sooner he finds them, the better, and he moves quickly. The poisoned air dissipates in a tight circle around him. It's difficult to smell anything except rot and miasma.

Then he hears it—a familiar shout. He picks up speed, coming in from the left amidst the eight-limbed monsters bearing down on their target.

[tobeclosetohim]

"Goddammit, mother fucker!"

The shout was Jo's surprise and sharp pain when one of the smaller spiders got the drop on her—literally, managed to drop down from an overhang onto her, where it'd clutched its creepy little hands in her hair and back, biting into her shoulder suddenly. The feel of pain at all, stuttering inward through the soft red haze, was a surprise, but one quickly forgotten for the flash of anger at it daring and (her not seeing it before it happened).

"You think that's cute, do you?" She snaps at one of the much larger, distended, person-sized chittering ones, even as she slashes her blade toward the one closest to her.

[gynvael]

Not Ciri, but certainly a voice he recognizes. He strides forward, glimpsing Jo in the fray, and there's a short pause as he assesses—numbers, positioning, and if any more are coming.

Doesn't look like Dean is with her, either.

He steps left, taking the one further from her. It's rearing up to change when a sword through its hardened thorax stops it in its tracks. He wraps both hands around the grip and yanks, splitting it in two. A shriek punctures the air.

There are more little ones scurrying underfoot like plague rats. They latch onto his boot, fangs digging into the leather as they crawl up his leg. He grabs it, one eye on Jo to see how she's faring.