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abraxaslogs2021-12-17 12:09 am
- alucard; the hierophant,
- castiel; the hanged man,
- estinien wyrmblood; the hermit,
- geralt of rivia; the hanged man,
- goro; the chariot,
- hector; the magician,
- himeka sui; the fool,
- inej ghafa; the hierophant,
- kylo ren; the tower,
- leonard mccoy; the lovers,
- ronan lynch; the moon,
- sam wilson; justice,
- sasarai; judgement,
- stephen strange; death
The Mission
The Dimmest Day is upon us.
The champions of Thorne seek to deliver their caskets safely to the central artifact of the Singularity. Opposing them are the champions of the Free Cities and Solvunn, who are charged with intercepting as many caskets as they can and carrying them safely back to their respective factions— but each is also charged with preventing the other from doing the same.
From across Abraxas, in the dead of night, three groups of the Summoned converge on the Singularity. What they do here will have lasting effects on the world and every other beyond it.
Pleased to see a healthy number of volunteers gathered at the Empty Throne, Ambrose allows his champions a moment to savor the vocal appreciation of the gathered crowd ringing the courtyard. Thorneans applaud and cheer, and Frederick, previously this year's Elected sacrifice, looks beyond relieved. High above, the King and Queen emerge on the Royal balcony, and without any further warning the gathered crowd breaks into song— an ancient hymn of thanksgiving that feels very awkwardly like a prayer being directed towards the Summoned themselves.
Along with black leather sling packs for carrying the caskets and a lantern each, a group of apprentices bring forth pieces of armor, enchanted rings and circlets, all of them offered as temporary loans to Thorne's champions who could use a little aid in their work. These hold simple defensive and life-preserving spells, presumably a small hoard of trinkets kept aside from the usual Dimming sacrifice: putting them on may grant added resistance to magical attack, a boost to existing magical ability, or increase an individual's speed, strength or dexterity. Once everything is distributed, Ambrose himself passes out the caskets, taking great care to hand each one over with a stern, steady stare.
Even tapping into the emergency storage of magical energy provided by an ornate reliquary placed behind the throne, it takes the efforts of all the assembled Thornean mages together to open the portal that will deliver the Summoned to the crater's edge. Ambrose explains that due to the Dimming, they won't be able to create another to bring his champions home until the sun rises— and only then if the mission to restore the Singularity is successful. Everything rests with the Summoned, now. They must not fail.
Aleksander's laboratory is exactly the kind of mad scientist with access to magic take on Leonardo DaVinci's workshop you might expect. Strange, chemically powered devices bubble and tick. Doves flutter and coo anxiously in cages. A couple of ominous metal exam tables with leather restraint cuffs bolted to them have been pushed back to the walls to make room for a large contraption that looks like a cartoonish steampunk ray gun, far taller than a man, aimed at a hastily painted bullseye target on a raised metal platform. Surrounding it are strange alchemic sigils burned into the floor. It becomes clear all too soon that this is the method of transport the champions of the Free Cities will be using to get to the Singularity for their mission. This is a very tech-heavy flavor of New Magic.
Assistants usher the Summoned towards the platform and offer a range of odd hand-held devices and wearable tech for anyone who would like a little extra boost. Alongside chemically powered lanterns, the Summoned are invited to pick up energy dispersing chestplates, power-assisted boots for increased speed or spring in a step and so on— though it's fair to say Aleksander's creations do all look like they might be more in the experimental stage.
Charged using a device some of the Summoned might recognize from Alexander's holiday experiment at the Circus of the Sciences, the transporter ray is ready to deliver the Free Cities' champions to the Singularity. Set on a timer, the device will activate a second time at dawn to generate a gateway to welcome them home with their winnings. Aleksander wishes them good fortune, ensures everyone is properly situated on the platform, and with a pull of a lever sends them on their mission.
By the Solstice itself, a great unlit pyre topped with a strange, crude effigy of a creature resembling a bear has been built in the middle of the town, encircled by a group of seven mages in elaborate masked costumes representing elements of the landscape around them— rocks, fields, forests and streams. But Rowan, who the Summoned have been directed to report to, is not among them. He stands by a smaller fire, uncharacteristically solemn. It is time for Solvunn and its champions to receive their blessings, though as always these come with a price.
Rowan directs each of the group to step up in turn and surrender something to the flames. These sacrifices can be small, but they must belong to the person giving them up. A garment they are wearing would suffice, or even just a lock of hair, a drop of blood, a clipped fingernail. These gifts, Rowan explains, will link each of the Summoned with a blessing they can carry with them as they travel to the Singularity.
Another mage wearing an elaborate antlered headdress bestows the blessings as the Summoned give their gifts, dipping an elegant hand into the flames and drawing a strange runic sigil onto their foreheads with the ash of the ceremonial fire— and instantly, the Summoned may feel they have received increased vitality, strength, speed, enhanced visual or auditory acuity. They are handed a lantern each and instructed to stand aside as the mages ask the gods to light their path, and once all gifts are distributed, the gathered mages lift their arms and begin to chant. A fiery tendril leaps from the sacrificial fire to the main pyre itself in a crackling arc that sustains itself there in the air, forming a doorway to the edge of the Singularity’s crater. This passage of fire will remain passable in either direction until the great pyre burns down to embers.
The more perceptive of the group may catch sight of huge, formless shadows moving at the very edge of their vision as they step through the fiery arch.
When each faction's group of champions emerge on the other side, they find themselves delivered to the closest point around the rim of the Singularity's crater to their home faction. A few miles in diameter and several feet deep, the crater is a strangely, perfectly circular depression in the desert with the towering monolith of the Singularity itself glowing faintly visible through the dark of night at its center— and unlike the last time the Summoned were brought here, they have time to catch their breath and let their eyes adjust, if they wish. Muted and diminished, the Singularity makes no attempt to draw the Summoned to itself. To approach it, they will have to walk.
Physically breaching the border of the crater makes shivers run down spines and hairs stand on end, but it seems Ambrose was right. Rather than being yanked without ceremony into the metaphysical realm of the Horizon, the Summoned are able to make their careful way over the sloping rim of the crater, where each party will be able to catch sight of lights moving in the darkness as the Summoned of other factions climb down to the arena of the crater's smoothly featureless floor.
The desert air is cold and clear in the dark of night, sound carrying easily across the distance between the three parties. Raised on its rocky plinth, the towering statue of the Singularity beckons. The Dimming reaches its nadir as the Summoned of each faction march towards inevitable conflict.
Closed to Estinien
He hopes that the Singularity really is fading, that this mission isn't for nothing because the weight of the boxes are making his arms sore. Part of him wishes he had a horse to lash the caskets to but he also isn't certain how such a creature would handle being in the crater, this close to the Singularity.
To make the trek a bit more tolerable he starts humming to himself an old Harmonian hymn about the Circle and all of the warriors that have bathed in its light.
The tune dies on his lips when he sees a figure lurching towards him.
"Estinien?"
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It doesn't stop him, though. He can't let it. He won't. He sees another casket, another potential target. He's not ready to let go.
He dives towards Sasarai with a sudden burst of momentum, his claws extended and fire in his throat. In the dark of night and basked in the uneven glow of flame, the blood covering his body may not be immediately obvious by sight. The smell, however, is thick.
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He drops a casket to his feet and holds out one hand, focusing the power of the True Earth Rune out through his palm. Light surges from his hand then curves around him as a shimmering barrier.
"Honestly, we need to stop meeting like this."
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As he comes to a stop his tail thrashes, his red eyes shining through the darkness. He looks about as much beast as he does man, right now, his face and pale hair stained with red. He screeches, and it's a sound Sasarai has heard before - back when he attacked Ambrose the first time. It's a piercing sound, that cuts through flesh and mind alike.
Fire building in his chest and throat, the pattern of it traveling up his neck until he's spit a ball of flame. It explodes against the barrier on impact.
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Before the splits can form in his consciousness they start to mend and seal over. The True Earth Rune is intent on keeping its host sane and standing.
Sasarai briefly shoots it a thought of gratitude before focusing his undivided attention on the beastly creature in front him and bracing against the flames that burst against his magic.
"Dammit, Estinien! Stop! I don't want to fight you!"
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This time, Sasarai's words seem to get through at least enough to demand a response. The response itself, though, comes in a growl, vicious and uncompromising.
"Then surrender."
He can't leave without getting what he came for. Not after everything he's waited for and everything he promised. He fumbles with the spear he wears strapped between his wings, gripping it between bloody claws and he forces himself, staggering, to his feet. He leaps again, coming down with force and bearing the point of his spear against the barrier, hoping to pierce it.
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Wounded, he thinks.
The suspicion is confirmed when the other man leaps up comes down on his barrier. It is not as strong a blow as it had been that day at Castle Thorne, and he can Estinien's blood drip from his claws.
"You're hurt. Stand down and nobody will have to die here."
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He's hurt, Sasarai points out, and something about it makes his gut twist furiously. No - don't you dare take mercy on him, something inside him screams. He doesn't need your pity-
A roar rips free of his throat, dark energy forming around the shaft of his spear as he gives it a final thrust. He'll make sure Sasarai has to fight for this.
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He rolls to one side and the barrier collapses abruptly. He hopes it will be enough to momentarily confuse his opponent, or at least to get the spearhead lodged in the ground instead of in his skull.
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(He was trying to kill the barrier, not the man, a part of him emphasizes - but it feels distant and distorted beneath the ancient anger that he drowns in.)
He growls, left staggered by the unexpected turn, his spear not coming out of the ground as easily as he'd like. After a hectic moment, he leaves it where it is, prioritizing following his quarry over freeing it.
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"You don't even have your weapon anymore!"
He tries to sound calm but his voice is sharp with frustration. "Are these boxes more important to you than your life?"
It's not a question he really expects an answer to but he has to ask anyway. Once the words pass his lips he starts chanting under his breath and he feels the familiar pins and needles sensation in his skin as the True Earth Rune prepares another barrier.
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He doesn't need the weapon, something says in the back of his mind. He doesn't need it anymore. It's not about the casket, it's more than that, it's about finding some shred of purpose in this strange world. The one thing he's supposed to be able to do, and is failing at regardless.
He roars again, vibrations rippling through the earth beneath their feet, clawing at the mind - but it's weaker, now. He's getting weaker, and it can't stop it, and the vulnerability of it only serves to stoke his anger. His strength fades, but his spirit demands for him to press on.
"I would sooner die than allow Thorne to drink of the power it craves."
His voice is rasping and wet with the blood in his throat - but yet, there seems to be a deeper, more ancient presence behind it.
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The sensation of clashing magic around him makes him wince.
"This power isn't for Thorne, it's for the Singularity!"
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"You know their ends," he says. "You know what they want is to take control... to expand their territory and power at the expense of all else!"
At least, while people like the current queen and Ambrose are in charge, that is all they'll do. If any mortal could handle such power, it would not be the likes of them.
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"Like you they're driven by fear. They're afraid something will happen to the Singularity. That's what all of this is really about in the end. And that's why I'm with them. With them I can save us."
Beneath them the earth starts to vibrate again as he prepares to launch more stalagmites from the ground.