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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.
no subject
Himeka shakes her head as she moves onto the next wound, but her hand freezes in place over his side. A pounding in her head, a heavy thud in her ears stakes all her perception as a very familiar pain shoots at the front of her skull. She sucks in a sharp breath as she grabs her own forehead, her vision quickly fading to show a very new perspective of the battlefield.
--flying down from the sky, a woman burdened with capsuled energy from Thorne. A clashing of tooth and fang and magicks that she can almost smell on the air itself. It's a blur of action but one she is intimately familiar with being on either side.
In the end, Estinien is overwhelmed by the sorceress, though Himeka can tell the attacks were not with the same ferocity he would normally show on the battlefield. Yet he left without his prize--
She exhales as her vision clears, shaking her head again to try and fight off the headache that she knows will be lingering for a little while after.
"...that she would be more powerful than you anticipated?"
no subject
He knows that she can't control it, and so telling her to stop will amount to nothing. Instead, he finds the defeat of it all dragging him down more viscerally. He sinks down, helplessly panting with exertion as his body works on healing.
He can tell when she finally opens her eyes that she did see it, and her words abolish any room left for interpretation. He looks humiliated - completely miserable with the idea. He hadn't sought to underestimate the sorceress, and yet, the alternatives...
"I had..." He coughs hoarsely, and there's blood in his mouth. Thankfully, most of it isn't new at this point. "I had been told she was fierce... but if I were to attack at full power, a mage... not fully aware..."
He knows mages sometimes needed a moment to bring up their full defenses. It was entirely possible that she would rebuke even his most whole-hearted attempt, but the cost of being wrong felt excessive to people who loved her.
"I thought... I was up to the task. A-And yet..."
He knows full well that he's succeeded at nothing, here. He didn't succeed at defeating her, and he didn't succeed at sparing her completely either. There will be trouble, he assumes, and for nothing. Nothing at all.
He was so angry in the moment, when he started to lose, his attacks became more violent, survival becoming paramount. He knows he was wounded when she left, as much as she had cowed him. He's torn between wishing he'd simply struck her with his all from the start, and wishing he'd never engaged at all.
no subject
She understands.
And he's not wrong--being a mage herself Himeka knows the weaknesses. Keeping others at a distance is the best way to handle those sorts of battles, close range can be devastating. Melee has a distinct advantage once they can get in.
Forcing her way through the headache, she refocuses her energies on patching Estinien up. Another regenerative spell to keep his vitality rising as she tends to his next biggest wound.
"But she's not our enemy," she says quietly--not an admonishment, but something she figures is an agreement on his part. "None of the other Summoned are, no matter who they're serving right now."
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Enemy or otherwise, he can see no good coming from their blood being on his hands. With all of the Summoned being so entangled, what would it mean to kill one of them? Would the conflict only be needlessly inflamed by doing so? Is it worth it to do anything at all on behalf of Solvunn when they've offered little and asked for blind faith?
He just wants to save his home, a small, desperate part of himself pleas. He just wants to do the right thing. He wishes someone could tell him what it was. He'd been so comfortable among the Scions, even though it was for such a brief moment, what feels an increasingly long time ago. He'd felt like he finally knew where to go.
He falls silent for a time after that, closing his eyes and shivering with emotion. It's a rare moment of complete weakness, which feels shameful in its own way - but he tells himself, in a slow, steady mantra, that it will pass. It will pass. It always has.
After meditating on that thought for a bit and allowing Himeka to do her work, he steels himself, and opens his eyes. They are back to normal - at least more normal than before, the whites returned and the sharpness of his pupils more subtle. He looks up at her, and though he doesn't try to get up against without her permission, he is no longer trembling.
"You should carry on without me," he says. "When you're finished. There's still time."
Chirurgeon's orders and all that.
no subject
When Estinien seems to shift again, Himeka looks up, letting her hands drop to her lap. There's a new Asylum bubble around them but she is hoping this may be the last that he needs for now.
"I'm not leaving until you can move again." That's not up for debate. "How are you feeling?"
no subject
He gets up onto his knees, bracing himself against his hands. His breath is a bit more even, her having helped with the internal damage considerably. He feels how the weight of his body sits, feeling for any wounds that will stop him from traveling. Thankfully, any fractures there were feel more steady.
Finally, he nods his head slightly. He thinks he will be able to fly again, at least long enough to get out of here, if he has to.
"Good enough."
She's probably done as much as her magicks can accomplish at the moment - he's no longer losing blood and he can travel on his own. The rest is up to him, and he refuses to disappoint.
no subject
At his approval, she smiles and gives a nod.
"I'll meet you at the edge of the crater," she says as she moves to stand. "Mayhaps I can catch up to the last mage you fought."