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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
He opens his eyes and sees aether crackling in the distance - the type that is familiar to him, in this strange place. Himeka, no doubt. He wonders if she's fighting again. Did she win? Did she take a casket? He knows he was supposed to focus on getting home, but his gut twists with concern anyway.
...He can help, he decides. It doesn't feel right to leave Himeka to her own devices, no matter what she said.
Slowly and groggily, he opens his wings, labouriously hauling himself into the air. With the advance of the skies, he can see what's going on long before one could arrive there on foot. What he sees is ice shattering under the weight of fire - fire that piques something in his senses. Something familiar, as if by scent, or by spirit. It's almost like... dragons?
When the scene beneath him truly takes form, he doesn't hesitate for even a moment. As Goro focuses on the opponent before him, he neglects the one above.
Estinien streaks downward at a full dive, the air around him seeming to catch ablaze with red light. He plows, full-bodied, into Goro's side, hurling the two of them horizontally across the barren land, and away from Himeka. He digs in his own claws with an echoing roar, twisting the man so that he'll be the one to hit the ground first.
no subject
It hurts. It hurts a lot. But Goro's kill has been stolen and this...this creature is annoying him. As he hits the ground, his two upper arms grab Estinien by either side of his face and Goro slams his skull into the Elezen's, hard. Meanwhile his lower right arm starts pummeling Estinien's side, and it's only thanks to the Shokan's sudden bout of fury that he forgets to engage the Dragon Fang blade. But his fists are huge, and are given more strength by Goro's rage.
"GET...OFF!"
no subject
She raises her arm up to try and protect her head, only pause when she feels a palpable shifts in the air. Goro seems distracted by it as well--and just in time. The blur that is Estinien is one she recognizes instantly, even as he slams into her would be executioner.
"Estinien!"
And he's bought her much needed time at his own expense. It's been a while since she tended to him but there are many wounds that cannot be healed with her magicks alone. Himeka grabs her cane again she hobbles to her feet, feeling her magical resources start to fill again. One lily expended and a Regen will have to do for now.
"Goryo!" she shouts, raising her cane as she sends a wave of Glares Goro's way.
no subject
He manages to turn his head enough that his horns get in the way of Goro's attempt to crack his skull, but the impact is still enough to stagger him. The side of his body, however, has no such defenses. It's something he thinks he could have handled were it his first fight of the night, but as it is, his ribs are already fractured and his muscles sprained.
The first punch causes him to gasp, and the second causes him to gag. Something breaks, and he tastes the blood pool in his mouth anew. The third makes him choke completely, blood spurting out between his lips.
The light of Himeka's magic joins them, and in the first moment Estinien has to act, he wildly rips the claws of his hands and feet across Goro's body, his wings beating in a flurry that kicks of up dust and provides him with the leverage to dismount. After doing his best to leave his mark, he hurls himself to the side, and out of Himeka's way.
no subject
"I accept that I have lost this battle." But he points a finger towards them. "And I know you are not of Thorne." He rumbles, mostly to Himeka but he heard her call Estinien's name. They are known to each other, and he's banking that Estinien is not committing what Thorne would surely consider treason by helping a rival summoned, even against another rival. "Run back to your masters in Solvunn and tell them this; the Free Cities have not forgotten Eifstide, and we do not forgive. The necromancers will have their reckoning soon." He spits an ugly glob of bloody saliva.
"Solvunn will answer, or Solvunn will pay. Expect us." He crouches down, tension building along his legs.
"Expect Goro."
And then he's gone, leaping away into the dusk and mist, having decided discretion is the better part of valour...and taking Emet-Selch's lost casket with him.