EVENT #20: ADVENT - IC EVENT LOG

[abraxasmods]

Event #20 - Advent

OOC Event Log ⦁ The Gods ⦁ NPCs

The Badlands has remained contested territory between Thorne and the Free Cities for many years. During a mediation two years ago, a resolution was attempted but fell apart. The Badlands is valued for being the direct route toward the Singularity...meaning it was only a matter of time before conflict broke out over it.

Early in AUGUST, Thorne and the Free Cities begin to march on the Badlands. The clash is bloody and violent, taking place exclusively on the ground. Although the Free Cities military has its share of firearms, such things are still rare and expensive. Most of the fighting, as expected, makes use of horses, swords, arrows, and - of course - magic.

The territories won't call upon Summoned like yourselves. You are meant for something more important. If you insist on joining the fight, they may approve depending on who you are and what you plan to do. Soon, however, a powerful force emerges, one far bigger than just another clash of swords.

This event draws on a previous event involving the Heralds of War. Knowledge of this past event is not necessary, but you may review the information for added context if you wish!

The consequences of Solvunn's choice in Event #18 occur at the end of the event. The result of this act will be further detailed in the Wrap-Up.

Overture

The return of the Heralds might stir familiarity within some of you. You may recall how they whispered in your ears, planted visions of death, or corrupted the Horizon. This time, although their coming spreads across the land, you as the Summoned are remarkably resistant to the Gods' influences. Newer arrivals might be more susceptible, but those of you who have been here for months or years won't find yourselves afflicted much, if at all...until you start to make your choices.

As the Summoned, certain actions may open you up to vulnerabilities. Everything you do carries a weight. If you experienced the emergent reality, you'll likely have learned that lesson. You're not fully one of the Gods yet, but your connection to the Singularity means the magic that flows through you contains both a great capacity to help others and a cost that comes with it which you must consider.

A Taste of Blood

It begins sometime in mid-August, around the 16th onward. Not everyone will experience it at the same time. You might even believe you're spared until days afterward when you're visited by an unusually vivid dream.

The dream starts the same for everyone: you are going somewhere, anywhere, walking to your bedroom, or enjoying a stroll on the beach. You might be driving down a familiar neighborhood. Wherever you're headed, you find that the world around you shifts. Thin red veins spiderweb across nearby surfaces. As you press on, they become engorged with blood until they form a fleshy tunnel. A light at the end beckons you. You can turn around if you want, but aren't you curious?

If you proceed, you eventually come upon a beating human heart with your Arcana painted in gold. A swarm of large mosquitos quickly encase the heart, sucking it dry. As their abdomens become fat with blood, more and more join the swarm until it becomes a whirlwind of insects that gradually take on a large humanoid shape: bright red with blood with horns bent upwards like a lopsided crescent moon.

This is Zorne of Last Blood, the eldest of the Heralds of War.

The veins are pulled in by the insects, connecting one to the next and holding them in place like latticework of sinew. No longer obscured, the world that surrounds you is bleak and gray. A large sword materializes in Zorne's hand. Holding it aloft, he measures your resolve.

◎ If you have spilled blood, the blade begins to drip with it. The steel beneath glows hot, then begins to harden.
◎ If you have not spilled blood, the blade turns brittle, eventually falling to dust.

Zorne accepts you regardless. He sits down on his simple stone throne, laying the sword against the armrest. His eyes are thinly veiled sockets in a skull made of insects, downcast towards where you stand below his form. A thin layer of red skin stretches across his mouth with every word he speaks.

"The path...has been chosen. The snake has found its tail. Each new age rises from the ashes of its grave. It is...as it always has been."

Zorne holds the sword up again. Behind his throne, you glimpse the rays of a rising sun.

"A sword hardens in the fire. In the darkened hearts of mortals. Destruction heralds purification from madness.

All things end before they begin. Mortals, Gods, the smallest insect. And when it ends...we will be there. I will be there. And you...little godling...must find your place in that end."

The sun reaches its apex. It is blazing and fierce, as though it might soon swallow you in its fury - and then it does.

Do you feel at peace from its cleansing fire? Strengthened by it? Or is it purely unimaginable pain and fear that consumes you?

Zorne's sword measures the blood on your character's hands as perceived by them. A character who took only one important life to save the world may see as much blood on that sword as another who killed many to do the same.

Making Your Choices

Whether you believe Zorne or not, you must still do something, even if that something is nothing. As things unfold before your very eyes, you can decide whether you will aid the Heralds for what you may believe is the greater good, help the individuals you can't deny, or decline any involvement at all.

General Effects

Each territory will have a set of circumstances brought forth by a combination of human actions and the Heralds. Those who experienced the afflictions in the past may recognize that the Heralds never implanted or controled your thoughts. Instead, they showed you visions, whispered in your ear, or coaxed you to indulge the darker impulses that live inside you.

The same effect will take hold of the regular citizens now, whose dispositions play a large role in what the Heralds can influence and how much. This is made most obvious by the fact that children are the least impacted. The younger and the fewer their worries, the less vulnerable they are. Of those who are afflicted, the effect might manifest in ways that are more fitting of a child: dreams of a beloved pet dying, bullying a sibling, or giving in to the desire to steal a toy. Adults who are naturally and genuinely carefree may also fail to be affected by Koth's despair or Adlewyrd's poisonous thoughts.

Vulnerabilities

Your status as the Summoned affords you some protection. The longer you've been in Abraxas, the less open you will be to influence. However, depending on what you do, this might change.

◎ If you choose to counter a Herald's influences, you may inadvertently absorb the affliction's effects or experience a "bleedover" from the person you're helping. The more you do this, the more severe the impact will become. You might also be concerned by the new ability you're exhibiting when countering an affliction. Though the ability is small, you feel its power coursing through you. When you try to call on it outside of aiding others, however, nothing comes. It seems this ability only manifests when interacting with an afflicted individual.

◎ If you choose to enhance a Herald's influences, you may inadvertently absorb their abilities as yours and thus, in turn, spread them toward individuals who are nearby. This could occur deliberately or accidentally, depending on how much you desire to act as an extension of the Herald in your chosen territory.

◎ If you choose to ignore a Herald's influences, you'll receive no effects either way...but you might find it difficult to disregard what's going on around you.

For an OOC explanation of the mechanics regarding being a countering, enhancing, or neutral force, please review the Deciding Your Actions section on the OOC Plotting Post.

Patchwork Horizon

Luckily, the Horizon isn't intent on trapping any of you this time. Its instabilities instead manifest in your own domains. It might revert back to a previous state or older elements might resurface that you thought you got rid of. Or, it may take on transformations from a future version - the domain that you had as a God in the emergent reality. The more you've made yourself vulnerable, the more unstable your experience in the Horizon will become.

Further, these instabilities aren't limited to your domains. Effects from other domains might overwrite yours, or perhaps pieces of your domain are showing up in another's.

◎ For some, it might just be a minor inconvenience. Perhaps your flowers have transplanted onto somebody else's yard across the Horizon or your pet keeps teleporting around to everyone's domains except yours.

◎ For others, the effect might be more troubling. You could find private letters surfacing in a stranger's desk or you might open your closet to find another's buried skeletons.

Anything that ends up in someone else's domain will be missing in yours. Rather than a duplication, the effect is more like a jigsaw or a patchwork quilt. You can put it right, of course, with some concentration - but it's best done with a partner, especially someone who knows your domain well enough to help you reform it.

Setting a domain right will also repair any vulnerabilities its owner might've exposed themselves to, so it's a good idea to try and assist each other. Of course, if your concentration's off, attempts to fix a domain might actually make things worse, so be careful!

Arrival

The sections below will contain more specific prompts to help players jumpstart threads, but you may use the broad descriptions of each Herald's impact here to inspire your own ideas and scenarios.

The First Shadow

The arrival of the Heralds of War is subtle. For many citizens, they might not realize that there is a force exerted throughout the world. Indeed, how much of what happens can be attributed to the Heralds, and how much is simply human nature? That's a question even the Heralds can't and won't answer. They are only here to carry out the same task they have done since the dawn of time, each time a war brews.

Koth, the Kingdome of Thorne

Koth of Festering Lands brings with her death and rot. This affects vegetation, wildlife, livestock, the already dead...and the soul itself. She does not bring literal death to living people - she only brings it to the things around them and within them.

◎ Missing Warship
In Borrel, a naval warship on its way home to resupply goes missing. Led by an experienced captain and with no fighting taking place at sea (surely, even the Free Cities can't sail that quickly toward the western coast), the mysterious disappearance has many concerned. Unfortunately, some mages who attempt a common tracking spell report visions of bloated corpses sunk to the bottom while others dream of drowning, an effect so real they must be shaken awake. Many mages refuse to try the spell again, leaving it in your hands instead.

Each tracking spell can only vaguely locate an individual or a part of the ship, so multiple attempts are necessary. If you're not skilled in magic, you can take a more active role and board a rescue ship off the coast of Borrel. This ship will venture out based on the coordinates according to the spell...but take care: the sailors with you are prone to similar visions of drowning when they look into the blackened depths below. Others claim they see the faces of the dead in the ocean's surface. All of this leads to high tensions amongst the men and women on board.

It'll be possible to rescue a few sailors, but others may be lost entirely. The ship itself appears to have broken into pieces. Survivors report a grotesque undead leviathan that cannot be harmed or killed, though it's difficult to tell if this is true or another hallucination.

◎ Dukewood Lumber Mills
Previously a site of a dangerous rift, the lumber mill in the woods by Nott has since returned to normal. Unfortunately, that ends quickly when the trees begin to rot. Workers report a horrible smell that comes from the trees themselves, and that the normally clear sap has turned into a putrid black-blood substance.

To make matters worse, the rotting stores of food and now the dying trees are putting the workers and locals around Nott under great stress. Thoughts of despair are amplified by both the situation and Koth, leading to higher rates of drinking, which in turn has increased the amount of accidents at the mill, including mismanaged safety protocols and mishandled equipment.

Lumber is of great value during wartime, especially for the construction of naval ships, outposts, and weapons, so Castle Thorne is determined to help restore the trees, as well as calm the workers. You can help with everything from checking equipment to ensure they're safe, searching for any missing mill workers, providing first aid where necessary, or confronting beasts that might've been disturbed by all the commotion.

If you happen to fall under Koth's sway, you might also see the dead when looking into the waters as you rescue the other sailors. The bodies might reflect something you fear or they may be a reminder of a death that's already passed. You could also sink into despair or experience haunting dreams as you try to help another recover from their hopelessness.

Adlewyrd, the Free Cities

Adlewyrd of Poisoned Tongues brings with them words that poison the heart and mind. This affects thoughts and emotions, a slow and subtle influence that spreads.

◎ Untold Secrets
In Libertas, where underground networks thrive, sudden slips of the tongue, rising tempers, and impulsive actions have caused the black market to collapse into disarray. Between power struggles, accusations of betrayals, and missing transactions, the violence has spilled into the open.

Preoccupied with the battle, the number of guards and soldiers keeping order is reduced. Venturing into Libertas can be dangerous and those who live there, including artists and orphans, are struggling to go about their day-to-day without disruption. You can help calm tempers or break up fights...or maybe, if you're a bit more vulnerable to the influences yourself, you might become drawn into the chaos yourself.

Because of the limited number of hands, the Summoned are allowed to make an arrest, but you must bring the culprit to a guard outpost for formal processing. Taking matters into your own hands too severely can lead to scrutiny. Given the circumstances, however, a bit of non-fatal violence will be overlooked, especially if it takes place in the darker corners of Libertas.

You don't have to enforce the law, though. In Libertas, this enforcement is rather loose, anyway. Instead, you can mediate as a neutral party, take advantage to make a deal of your own, or simply offer your services to fill in any gaps that might've occurred in these networks. This could involve more illicit activities like transporting underground goods or something more above-board like searching for a missing person. Just be sure you don't draw too much attention if you're acting outside the law.

◎ The Red Path
Previously a site of a dangerous rift, the scenic Red Path leading between Cadens and Libertas has since been restored. Unfortunately, that ends quickly when conflicting reports cause an accident involving merchant wagons carrying silk, spices, and wine. Some claim the merchants are spies while others insist they were bandits in disguise.

Regardless, the accident leads to several fatalities and disturbs a monster nest: that of the dangerous Copper Spine Wyvern. It also draws swarms of hungry Kaskadura, the latter of which are lured by the corpses. While not normally aggressive towards the healthy and living, the Kaskadura seem to be in a frenzy and will bite just about anyone they see - and there's a lot of them, gathering over the area like a black cloud.

To make matters worse, a clerical error has slowed down the cleanup and identification process. If you're not inclined to fight monsters or locate missing bodies, you can help at Portam Hall to manually match names to surviving family members, as well as locate said family members to deliver the somber news. As for Portam Hall, the main hub of government activity might not be under threat from beasts, but isn't calm, either. Gossip, secrets, and missing paperwork plague the various departments and offices.

If you happen to fall under Adlewyrd's sway, you might read too deeply into an innocent comment or mishear a remark that raises your ire, leading you to snap wrongly at a friend or attack an innocent. You might also give into lurking temptations that surface as you try to help others overcome their dark desires.

Sannleikr, the Solvunn Commune

Sannleikr of Many Faces brings with him deception of the soul. This affects faces and minds, causing appearances to become distorted, untrustworthy, or altogether unrecognizable.

◎ Lost Herders
In the Secondary Settlement, a woman named Eydis has lost her prized herding dogs and her flock of sheep. They left one morning as usual to herd the sheep out to graze and never returned. She worries that rumors of livestock sprouting teeth are true and will harm her dogs. She isn't the only one, either. Several other sheep and goat herders have claimed their dogs and flocks have gone missing, too.

The dogs themselves have scattered across Solvunn. There are roughly a dozen dogs and several flocks that failed to return home. Should you run into any livestock, it would appear the rumors are indeed true: the normally fluffy sheep have grown wicked claws or horns while the goats bear their sharp fangs. Despite their fearsome appearance, however, they are not aggressive except when frightened. Keep them calm when herding them lest you provoke them to bite or claw.

As for the dogs, some might be wounded while others will growl at you. They don't recognize familiar toys or faces and will attempt to run away or behave apprehensively. You can use any abilities or techniques you have on hand to try and bring them home. After all, the Solvunn woods are dangerous, and there are many creatures within those dense trees that will strike.

◎ Living Statues
Previously a site of a dangerous rift, the Feintak Ritual Site, located just outside the Primary Settlement, has since returned to normal. Unfortunately, that ends quickly when confused citizens of the Commune begin to wander toward the area at night in search of their "missing" loved ones.

Unable to recognize familiar faces, some begin to see those faces imposed upon the statues at the site instead. You can find children playing with their "mother" or an elderly widow spending time with a "relative." While this would be disturbing enough on its own, the sacred area contains an ancient magic that, should any missteps occur, could be released into the world and spell disaster.

The Council has asked the Summoned to help bring home the lost folk of the Feintak site. They must be guided gently, as any negative energy could be absorbed by the dark power that lives in the earth and the statues. Victims of the affliction might become frightened of you or fail to recognize you even if you've been neighbors for months or years, making your task more difficult.

If you happen to fall under Sannleikr's sway, you might also begin to see faces in the statues at Feintak and forget the real figures around you. The faces might be friendly or they could be adversarial - an enemy or a source of shame. You may also see a twisted reflection of yourself in the mirror, representing something you've been trying to hide from.

The Final Coming

Zorne first spoke to you in your dreams, but his presence is noticeably absent for the first few days. Then, one week later, after one of the most fierce and bloody battles in the Badlands in recent history, a red sun rises over Abraxas. The morning's dawn is cast in a red glow across the territories.

If you met Zorne in your dream, you may recognize this very sun. You remember feeling its heat over your skin and the emotions it stirred in you, whichever they might've been.

By noon, the blood-red hue will fade...but Zorne's coming has only begun.

The Last Affliction

Unrestricted, Zorne's influence travels across the land and joins forces with his siblings.

◎ The Badlands

Forces from the Free Cities introduce a new prototype to the war: a semi-automonous suit of armor armed with a piece of technology derived from something that came through the rifts: a unique firearm that launches explosive discs imbued with New Magic.

The weapon's destructive capabilities wreck havoc on both people and the environment...inadvertently setting loose yet another creature of the rift - the swamp-like creature that researchers had been studying in the Badlands before the war broke out. Its giant mouth is lined with numerous teeth. Its breath can paralyze, blind, poison, and weaken anyone caught in it.

The morbol will move toward the borders of each territory throughout the event, so the Summoned in all locations can encounter it when arriving at the front lines to deliver medicine, supplies, or news. Zorne's influence appears to prevent it from dying. When killed, it respawns in another location - sometimes miles away.

◎ Forging the Soul

Zorne's influence can affect those who are already under the effect of one of the other three Heralds. A shopkeeper angry about a misspoken rumor might begin to have disturbing and violent dreams of confronting the offending gossiper. A soldier who sees his death at the hands of another may start to feel the urge to kill first before his turn comes.

Aggressive wildlife will begin to invade city borders. While most are stopped or killed before they enter a major city, one or two predators might slip through. Trade routes are disrupted. Nearly all caravans are halted except the most critical transports. Hunters and farmers begin to report disturbing sights of deer scavenging on corpses or butterflies biting as mosquitos do.

You, too, may experience similar dreams or desires if you've allowed yourself to become too vulnerable or exposed to the Heralds. The more you entertain such thoughts or let your guard down, the harder they become to ignore. As you move through your days, surrounded by turmoil and conflict, you may have to ask yourself if you're as above it all as you first thought.

And what about your friends? Your neighbors? After all, you might associate frequently with the other Summoned, but you've made connections with the native population, too. Perhaps the kindly innkeeper is now treating you with a suspicion she didn't used to exhibit. Maybe you hear that the baker across the street, who once offered you free sweet rolls, has been gravely injured by his own son.

As Zorne said, this is about forging peace through madness - or so the Heralds believe. Maybe, in the pandemonium and bloodshed around you, you begin to understand something important about yourself, your friends, or the world.

Beyond the Heralds

It's tough to deny that even without the Heralds, this conflict would be ongoing regardless. Neither Thorne nor the Free Cities has demonstrated any desire for peace. Solvunn seems to be considering their role, as well. Despite the war, life must continue for Abraxans: parents have mouths to feed, farmers have fields to sow, and professors continue to lecture and hold classes while they're able.

As the Summoned, you can engage in any of these elements. You can agree to take notes for a fellow student who's suffered an unfortunate attack after being mistaken for someone else. You could babysit for households who need an extra hand while their partner has been sent to fight. You can pack medicine, offer healing abilities, or bring supplies to units stationed by the Badlands.

You can also take on acts of diplomacy. This is not restricted to communicating with the leaders of your territory. Both Nocwich and the Nether have a relationship with the Summoned, which is something you can utilize. You might have to begin by sending a letter instead of meeting them directly, but if you're determined to find a peaceful solution, it's worth trying.

Individualized actions are entirely possible! We will discuss it on a case-by-case basis. You can SUBMIT YOUR REQUEST by replying to the comment with the form.

Please have a concrete goal in mind and try to keep your requests concise. We will do our best to accommodate everyone, but we may have to ask that you hold the request for after the event or ask you to revise it, depending on what you've submitted.

Departure

When the Heralds withdraw, it's quiet and as difficult to notice as their arrival. Did they vanish near the end of one of the battles? Did they leave days ago, the seeds they sowed flourishing without further intervention?

For the Summoned, it may be a bit easier to tell. Steadily, as the month comes to a close, the Horizon begins to stabilize once more. If you have been countering the Heralds, you find your ability no longer triggers, even if there remain those around you who behave as though they are still being influenced. You suppose it's fair to remember that the Heralds don't need to exert their powers for people to behave as they do.

The battle in the Badlands continues to wage...but on AUGUST 30, Thorne's troops receive abrupt orders to return home. It appears that, while the kingdom's forces were occupied on land, her naval warships were dealt a serious blow, handing a sudden victory to the Free Cities - but not by who you might predict.

The Hands of Solvunn

Solvunn has often refused to pledge for one side or another. The Council maintains that they are devoted to protecting their commune and their way of life, nothing more. They certainly have no army or weapons to speak of. Their disinterest in the Badlands conflict is expected, and neither Thorne nor the Free Cities consider it unusual that Solvunn has remained isolated.

What you might've wondered, however, is this: why have the Heralds visited Solvunn twice now when they spare genuinely neutral lands like Nocwich and the Nether?

A Guiding Light

After Thorne's retreat, news begins to travel. It moves through Solvunn and Thorne first, eventually reaching the Free Cities. Multiple stories surface about the sea in Borrel, not about the storm wall or Koth, but something else - a mysterious lighthouse and a thick fog that's obscured the waters for days.

Survivors of one destroyed warship, The Queen's Secret, return telling tale of a light that beckoned them during a heavy storm. But the lighthouse keepers in the western sea swear they saw no ships come their way. The ship itself seems to have crashed into a massive sea stack that should've been easily avoidable. What lighthouse could have drawn them near?

Over the next few days, this happens again and again. Sailors looking out from shore confirm that they can indeed see the flickering beam of a lighthouse. It stands proudly in a spot where no lighthouse was ever built.

Then, on the final day, the lighthouse moves.

Blessings Granted

Citizens gather seaside despite sailors and guards ashore attempting to send them home. They watch as a naval officer and his men are sent to investigate. As the lighthouse grows brighter, its hypnotic pulse begins to pull others forward. Fishermen and noblemen set sail on their own civilian ships. Sailors of the Royal Navy break rank and order, as if under a powerful compulsion, and set forth in Thorne's prized warships. One by one, ships big and small pull out of the harbor in the dead of night.

Witnesses report strange limbs emerging from the base of the lighthouse. The limbs do not strike or attack. Rather, they open up like a waiting embrace. They gently accept each vessel that sails towards the light. Then they enfold the ship and pull it down into the depths. To onlookers, it's a silent but horrifying affair. Each ship disappears until only bits of wreckage are washed ashore the following morning.

A surprising number survive by abandoning ship, though some captains choose to go down with their vessel. Having made a crippling dent in Thorne's Royal Navy, the lighthouse vanishes. Back on shore in the Tertiary Settlement, the storm wall finally vanishes.

The incident above will lead a few changes in Solvunn and to the borders of the Badlands. We'll detail those changes in the Wrap-Up!

---

Comments

[gynvael]

[ Geralt eyes the corrupted roots of the tree as he takes a step forward. He does not, in fact, know whether Jaskier is here or not, but that is why he's calling for him.

His eyebrow raises. Stolen? Why in the hell would he steal this damn thing? He snorts, suppressing a rise of irritation he has not felt towards his best friend in some time. Not for decades. Not since their early years together. ]

I found him. [ He pushes the unconscious moogle into Jaskier's hands. ] Drunk on the ground at Kaer Morhen.

[ What job is Moglad meant to do? He thought ever since the other moogle arrived (Mogworth, the one that Geralt will not acknowledge distinctly resembles him to many degrees, including almost never uttering a word), Moglad has returned to his role of consuming wine in excess and strumming his tiny lute.

Speaking of. Hm. ]

What happened to the other one? [ As far as he's seen, the two of them are inseparable. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier hugs Moglad to his chest, fanning his furry face. Somehow even through his white fur, his cheeks appear to have taken on a rosy glow.] You found him? A likely story.

[Not to say that he doesn't believe Geralt, but he's already quite wound up with this whole... situation. With his bloody trauma being on display for any passing fuckwit to view it.

He sighs. Jaskier summons a tiny little raincloud above Moglad's pom, which begins raining on his face. With his limp, ragdoll limbs, there's no question the moogle's become a complete lush, seemingly overnight. (Jaskier may have not been checking in for some time.)

As the rain begins to bring back life to his wine-obsessed apprentice, Jaskier blinks at Geralt, struck dim for a moment.] That... is a good question.

[That he does not have an answer to. With a light pat on his cheek, the moogle begins to stir. Substandard booze, kupo...] Moglad, where's Mogworth?

[Whatever alcohol is still swirling in the moogle's veins (? do they have blood?) suddenly wakes him up, his pom going straight up as his wings flap as quick as a bee's. He's gone, kupo! I looked everywhere for him, and he's gone, and he's abandoned me... The moogle crosses his arms over his chest, looking away with a jerk. Not that I care, kupo.

Jaskier eyes the Witcher.] Don't you even start, for an instance, thinking this reflects upon me.

[gynvael]

[ Mm. That would explain why Moglad was at Kaer Morhen. Interesting. Where would Mogworth go? The moogles don't leave Jaskier's domain unless Jaskier leaves with them. But then, as of late, his wolf has been missing, as well.

His gaze shifts to the bard. Then he looks back at Moglad. No. Of course not. These moogles do not reflect upon either of them. That would be absurd. Never mind that Geralt recognized a long time ago that Moglad functions as something of Jaskier's heart in this place.

He sighs. ] Well? Shall we find him?

[ If Jaskier's heart is unwell, then Jaskier, too, will be unwell, and Geralt does not wish to spend the rest of the week or more with his friend in a perpetually prickly mood. And yes. He recognizes that this is an ironic desire given his own disposition. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier stares at Moglad until his pom begins to wilt, and little tears gather at Moglad's eyes. I do care, kupo.

God. This is not what he's like. This is what Himeka thinks moogles are like, surely. He should curse her for inflicting this creature on him in the first place. An overemotional, needy, bratty, borderline alcoholic creature, that doesn't even have a job anymore -- and only sits around strumming his lute and drinking all of Jaskier's bloody wine.

(It's an uncharitable assessment and Jaskier feels already guilty about it.)

Both he and Moglad look at Geralt, and there's the same expression on both their faces: one of hope, but also surprise.] We should. This place is going to fall apart without him.

And we lost the morbol! Maybe Moglad went to go slay him, kupo?

What the fuck is going on? This place is supposed to be organized, Moglad! You weren't even supposed to be at Geralt's!

[The moogle whimpers, then seemingly passes out again. Bloody --] Yes. Let's go look for him. I'll leave Moglad in Bleobheris. He'll be safe enough there.

[gynvael]

[ Moglad can still lift a sword, Geralt is sure. He likes to think his training has some longevity, even in a damn moogle.

He glances at the creature when it collapses. Nudging Moglad with the toe of his boot provokes no reaction. All right. Jaskier seems unconcerned with leaving him there, so Geralt simply steps over him and continues on. ]

Kaer Morhen has been exhibiting equally strange behaviour. [ And others. He nods towards the swirling clouds over someone's domain. ] John uncovered some of my letters that appeared on his desk.

[ They spoke about it, but it was not exactly how he wished for John to have learned what he did. Still, John is the last person who would deliberately invade his privacy. He needn't ask to know it was an accident—and that it pained John more than it did him.

Besides, none except he and Yen know of those letters and its contents. He frowns, shaking his head. ]

Have you seen anything else out of place? [ Beyond what was obvious at a glance. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier is kind enough to set Moglad inside, and also lock up the door to the wine cellar before coming back out of Bleobheris, wearing his red, fringed hat. If he's going to go roaming the Horizon, he may as well look the part.]

Your letters? Not letters to me. Why don't you write me letters? [Of course it was John. You know, if he was Yennefer (who he isn't, thank the gods), he'd be feeling quite jealous right now.

They were... oh. Gods. They were letters to Yennefer, weren't they? Who else is this bloody buffoon going to write to?] Nothing illicit, I hope.

[He absolutely hopes it was illicit. Something needs to push Geralt forward a bit.

(That's unfair. He knows Geralt's desire to be private, to be unbothered. But he isn't feeling charitable, so fuck it.)] Now you mention it... [He plucks his hand off, scratching his head. Now, with the feathers, the bloody thing itches near constantly.] A few of my books have gone missing. And... Hector's gift to me. The crystal bird. I don't know where it's gone. It's not unlike it to take off for several days, but it always comes back to roost.

[gynvael]

[ Why would he write Jaskier letters? They share a home. He only writes them to Yen because they're...

It's habit. (And he likes receiving her words.)

He ignores Jaskier's burst of surliness. The world has not been kind on anyone as of late; he can't begrudge Jaskier for feeling less than cheerful in the face of active war. Things are not quite as dire as when Nilfgaard marched across the Continent, but. He can't see peace happening any time soon. ]

Nothing we couldn't speak about.

[ He is private, yes. But he trusts John, too. There are worse people to reveal his secrets to.

A frown wrinkles his forehead. ] My wolf vanished, as well. It appears the Horizon is growing unstable once more.

[ To no one's surprise, he supposes. ]

[cointosser]

[It doesn't mean he wouldn't like to have some! Sentimentality is completely lost on Geralt if one doesn't smell of overused perfume enough.

Jaskier sputters.] You mean -- [My wolf, actually.] You've lost him, too? [He runs a shaky hand through his hair. Something about Mogworth and the wolf disappearing together (two shards of Geralt in his memory) is unnerving him. Or he was already unnerved. No, he was definitely already unnerved.]

Something interfering with the Singularity. Our connection to it, specifically. And where trouble arises, there's always bloody gods behind it. [Well, they're not going to find them standing around here. But he cannot trust his horses right now, otherwise he would offer them in searching the Horizon. What if they disappear, too?] Do you have a mount? That... loud thing of yours. The bike. I have a feeling we may find them all in similar places.

[gynvael]

[ Jaskier smells of rosemary and sage, which Geralt is rather fond of, as well, though he may never say it until the day he dies and far beyond. In any case, he can see the concerning pattern between his wolf's disappearance and now the moogle's. ]

I greatly dislike that rock.

[ Though Istredd does seem to be smitten with it. He, on the other hand, would prefer a world not beholden to the whims of forces contained in monoliths and wraiths and so-called gods. Still, it's here. He supposes there's no getting away from it now. In the end, he imagines the root of these disturbances lie where they always do: in the acts of men.

He has got his steel mount, yes. It waits just outside Jaskier's grassy domain, leaning on its kickstand. He swings his leg over the seat and waits. ]

[cointosser]

I know you do. [He pats Geralt with some sentimental sense of understanding. They both know Istredd is quite obsessed with it; if Jaskier hadn't known before, he certain does after his frequent visits to the man's library (and a few... casual... flings. He may not bring those up in Geralt's presence for the moment.)

As for himself, his feelings are complicated. Perhaps the universe as a whole did not mean to grant the Best Bard on the Continent the sort of magical powers that allowed him to determine the livelihoods of humans in an instant, or create magical winged bears, or allow him to grow coconut trees on a whim... but the Singularity certainly deemed it so.

On the other hand, Geralt is right: Jaskier does not wish for any man's life to be controlled by the whims of rocks and gods.

But here they are. Being determined. By a rock. A rock being affected by gods.

They better get a move on if they're going to cross enough land to find the bloody beasts. Jaskier still hesitates before he gets on the bike, his heart as eager as a panicking bird, and his arms are a vice grip around Geralt's middle. Flying is a relative term, and the way he's seen this thing race across the Horizon is far different to the flight he is capable of as a bird; at least then, he is not beholden to a twisted beast of metal to keep himself alive. (Though he can't die here, the human brain simply cannot comprehend such a fact.)] All right, I'm ready. Go.

[He still screams when the bike jolts forward.]

[gynvael]

[ Truthfully, Geralt has assumed Istredd and Jaskier have already bedded each other by now. It seems to be Jaskier's particular talent, and eight hundred years is a long time for...situations to develop.

Not as if he were immune to the indulgences that come with a life made of too many years.

He doesn't understand why Jaskier is so apprehensive about the motorbike. It is fast, but it's perfectly sturdy and he'll hardly crash it in a place like this. As much as he prefers his horse on many occasions, he won't deny the speed of a machine and its inability to grow exhausted is a benefit. There are times he'd have not minded having one of these when crossing the desert.

They fly through the nonexistent roads of the Horizon. Something tells him the moogle would likely be somewhere familiar. Sam's? Nadine's? He tries Nadine's first, stopping in front of the quiet town with its quaint shops and stores, and livestock. The engine rumbles as he slows. Nadine isn't here, of course, but it may be easier that way. He isn't keen to explain about the...

Moogles. ]

Shall we?

[cointosser]

[Because fast things are terrifying! Horses are fine, a man can survive a fall from a horse, even if he won't be better off for it. This thing is twice as fast as a horse, if not more so, to the point where the colors of the Horizon blur completely as they speed by.

Also, horses are much quieter.

Hardly surprising is it that Nadine's domain is the first to check; there are only a few people so close to Jaskier's heart, and if Mogworth has any scrap of Jaskier in him, he's likely to go somewhere he might feel... good. Safe, even? Does Mogworth care about being safe?

Jaskier slips off the bike on (shaky) legs, catching himself on Geralt's shoulder. He takes a few steps towards the main street, autumn leaves blowing across stone, the wind blustery.

But there: Jaskier's head jerks up. Something larger than a leaf in the wind. It is, in fact, a moogle-shaped shadow cartwheeling through the sky, not uttering a single word. As if resigned to his fate, soaring out of the sky of Nadine's domain, looking -- and Jaskier may be only guessing -- as if he's motion sick, clutching his sheathed sword to his chest.]

For fuck's sake. [He turns to glare at Geralt, as if this is his fault.] Well, come on then! [He hops back onto the bike.] Follow him, lest he land atop Kaer Morhen!

[gynvael]

[ The fuck.

This retrieval process is giving him a damn headache. He stares upward with pinched brows, watching the little bear-shaped silhouette arc through the "sky" of the Horizon. They should be so lucky the creature should land atop Kaer Morhen. That would make it simple to retrieve.

Geralt heaves a sigh and revs the engine again. He does not warn Jaskier when he takes off. He is also, possibly, going far faster than whatever recommended limits have been placed on roads and streets at a time when these machines were invented, in part because those limits do not exist here and in part because Geralt himself is unaware that such limits were put in place. He does not hail from a world where one may have the misfortune of being flattened into paste by an enormous steel contraption.

This is Jaskier's fault, by the way, for hastening him over a moogle. It's not as though the thing can die. He's fairly sure they bounce harmlessly when they hit the ground. They're certainly round enough. They are also not real.

His intention is to reach the moogle where it may have struck the earth, pick it up and dust it off, and then return it to Jaskier. Then he can fuck off out of here and return to his business in the physical world.

What happens instead is that he rounds the curve of the Horizon in time to observe a fuzzy white ball of fur plummet from the heavens and strike a familiar head of curly black hair with an audible thump.

He brings the motorbike to an abrupt stop so as not to run the mage down. Another sigh escapes him. ] Hello, Istredd.

[magicalarchaeologist]

[ Istredd rarely leaves the library. The only other domain he goes to is Lucifer's and occasionally Wanda's as he has open invitations there, but prefers not to encroach on other people's personal spaces, as he sees it. But then he witnessed Darganfod running out of the lighthouse and it was shocking, none of his creatures leave. As the only pet who was given to him personally, he feels deeply responsible for it, and he hurries out after it.

He is very focused on the path in front of him, having spotted the metal from a distance, but the robot dog keeps being just out of reach. It lopes out of sight when he gets closer. But he thinks he's lost its trail.]

Darganfod! Damn you.

[ Istredd is hoping it will not ruin anyone else's space as it is wont to do, putting hands on his hips as he squints and looks for any sign of movement. He turns and that is the moment Mogworth slams right into his head. He gives an undignified squawk at that and nearly tumbles over, stumbling a step, but he does manage to catch the creature before it can fall. ]

The actual fuck?

[ He heard the bike from a distance and didn't think much of it, but it comes uncomfortably close before Geralt pulls it to a very abrupt stop. He stumbles back another step. Great. Clumsiness all around. He holds Mogworth for now, his head aching. ]

Please tell me this is yours.

[cointosser]

[He'll freeze to death, Geralt! He doesn't wear any clothes!

Jaskier clings to Geralt's back with the tenacity of an octopus, trying to follow Mogworth's trajectory while also not having his eyeballs get sucked out of his skull by the wind. Seriously, where the hell is this moogle going? And why isn't he trying to fly out of this... this torrent?

The answer, apparently, is so he can clock Istredd right in the head in a manner that Jaskier suddenly hypothesizes may have been completely intentional. Consciously or not, the little moogle is modeled off one of the most stubborn arseholes he's ever met.]

Mogworth, you fool idiot! What do you think you're doing! [The moogle appears as stoic and unrepentant as the Witcher on the bike as Jaskier takes him into his arms, hugging him. Immediately it tries to escape his embrace by hitting him on the head.] Ow. Oh, thank you, Istredd! The little cretin almost got away from me.

[The little cretin is pushing his paws against Jaskier's face like a cat that has been picked up and would like to be anywhere but here.] My apologies. I'm afraid he's been unlike himself as of late.

[Mogworth finally opens his mouth to point past them, where a small morbol (also a lost denizen of Jaskier's domain) is trying to chase after what appears to be some sort of... metal dog, possibly in order to eat it. You've got a morbol infestation, Mogworth says as explanation.]

How does that explain the cartwheeling through the sky...?

[Mogworth does not elaborate. Instead, with a guttural grant, he adds:

Kupo.]

[gynvael]

[ Of all the times to run into the mage.

While Jaskier retrieves the moogle with the consternation of a mother and her runaway child, Geralt switches off the motorbike to silence its rumble. No sooner has he done so does the miniature morbol slither along, a canine-shape machine fleeing ahead.

He looks at Istredd. Then he looks at Jaskier.

He looks back at the scene unfolding.

Geralt says not a word as he marches through the manifestation of ground that makes up the surface of the Horizon. He may or may not vanish out of sight for a brief moment—but regardless, there's a suspiciously wet noise, a loud belch, and a distinct mechanical whir.

When he reappears, it's with a squirming morbol in one hand and the steel canine in the other. Red blisters run up his hand and elbow—the one holding the morbol. He ignores it. Damn creature. Fuck knows why Jaskier insists on keeping it about.

Geralt offers the canine to Istredd. ] Yours?

so sorry for the wait

[magicalarchaeologist]

[ Istredd follows Mogworth's point and sighs, exhausted. ]

Darganfod, come back here!

[ The metal dog is either letting the morbol chase it on purpose for fun or is actually scared, but the two of them seem very determined to attack each other. He figures that they're in the Horizon so nothing can actually hurt them, but he would feel very bad if something happened to the only thing gifted to him in the Horizon. ]

I don't know what's gotten into it, I'm sorry if that's one of your pets.

[ This to Jaskier. He assumes Geralt doesn't care and/or doesn't have any pets that would be fighting the dog anyway. He blinks as Geralt walks off because frankly he expected his creature to just come right to him, and it's not. His eyebrows raise at the sound of some kind of commotion and glances over at Jaskier.

Then Geralt shows up again with Darganfod and he lets out a sigh of relief. The robot dog is behaving itself, actually, being peaceful underneath Geralt's arm although it's large and unwielding. He takes him from Geralt and sets him on the ground, but this time creates a leash-like rope to keep it in place. ]

My creatures never leave the library. [ He's flustered. ]

SO SORRY FOR MINE TOO

[cointosser]

[Darganfod...? No, Jaskier will not comment on anyone else's naming schemes. Or why -- why Istredd has some sort of mechanical hound. To be fair, if someone asked, Jaskier has no explanation for the morbol, either, particularly because it almost destroyed his entire domain.

(It's cute, not intentionally evil.)]

It's, err... yes, let's call it a pet.

[Jaskier is not as upset if the hound (?) happens to eat his morbol, but he also assumes the creature will suffer some very nasty indigestion. Mogworth hits him in the head again, making no response to Jaskier's "ow!", wriggling out until he's free of Jaskier's hands.

About to head off to take care of the morbol problem, he assumes, until Geralt shows back up holding it. Remarkable how Mogworth and Geralt have the exact same expression, completely devoid of joy or compassion for the creature dangling from his arm.

Jaskier takes the morbol, placing it on his shoulder. A tentacle slaps onto his ear and attaches with suction cups.] You better not have bruised him, Geralt, he's as sensitive as a peach. [He clears his throat, ignoring Mogworth staring daggers at the morbol.] Sorry about your, er, metal dog thing. I hope it's unharmed? I'm afraid there's a bit of -- well, you know how the Horizon is sometimes. Screwy. It's screwy.

AND FOR MINE..............but we can prob tie this off shortly :3

[gynvael]

[ That is a correct assumption. None of these creatures belong to Geralt. His wolf is doing fine, in the sense that he pays little attention to how his wolf comes and goes. It's possible it's equally trapped or confused in another Summoned's home, but as he's not been approached by such a problem, it is not yet a problem. In his mind.

He prefers to limit the problems that come to his attention.

His expression is vaguely bewildered. How the fuck does one bruise the morbol. It's...

Never mind. ]

Any more runaway pets?

[ Because he would rather like to return to his peace and quiet. By which he means he would like to return to the real world and determine what in the hell he ought to do next where these Heralds are concerned. ]

we can wrap whenever, thank you for including me :)

[magicalarchaeologist]

[ Jaskier should meet his leosylph named Lara Dorren. Istredd's naming practices are like that. Darganfod shoots out what looks to be an electric spark from its face but it doesn't hit anything, it seems to be a buzzing warning toward the others. It gleams dangerously and lasers can come out, but for now it sits imperiously by Istredd. Istredd sighs and shakes his head. ]

Not on my end. But there is a giant snake from Lucifer's Horizon that might devour people given the chance, so keep an eye out for her with your creatures.

[ It's likely they will all be created again in their minds, so being swallowed by a snake won't kill them for good, but it's the principle of the matter. He's very fond of his creatures he doesn't want them eaten by Dersti either. ]

I'm getting this troublemaker back before it grows to the size of a shed again. Be safe, both of you.

🎀 THANK YOU this was so fun

[cointosser]

A giant --?

[Jaskier pales a little. Yes, he may love horrible ugly things that are evil and possessed with a penchant for violence, but Geralt has a pretty face and the morbol keeps Mogworth occupied.

He draws the line at giant snakes.]

Well, if we're looking for a giant snake, I think I will make my very sudden and brilliant exit, thank you, I'm not very interested in all of [he waves his hand wildly enough the morbol struggles to hold onto his shoulder] that. [If it happens to come into his domain, he's very sure his peacock is going to destroy it. That thing hates anything even faintly resembling a snake. He's been told this is simply a feature of such birds.

Before he makes off, though, he leans in to give Istredd a kiss on the cheek.] Thank you for your help, dear. I too must corral these little bastards home, but I appreciate your help! [He didn't really help much. And for Geralt, Jaskier gives him a look.] You've got morbol slime on your face.

[He disappears, taking his creatures with him.]

just a tiny little thing

[magicalarchaeologist]

[ Istredd smiles and flusters at the kiss on his cheek, leaning into it a little. He doesn't point out that he really didn't do anything. ]

It was nice to see both of you ... under the circumstances. Thanks for the help, Geralt.

[ And then he's off too. ]