EVENT #10: AFFLICTION - IC POST

[abraxasmods]

Event #10 - Affliction

go to the OOC event info & plotting post

---

With tensions heavy across Abraxas and all the destruction that's happened, it's no surprise that the dark shadows which sweep over the land go unnoticed...at first.

Winds initially stir in Solvunn, where the influence of the Old Gods remains the strongest. Slowly each Herald infects Thorne and the Free Cities, as well. The Summoned are the first to feel its effects and are the most heavily impacted.

Though no one will realize it until well afterwards, Nocwich remains unaffected. After all, the Summoned don't reside there.

NOTE: This event will deal with themes of death (people and animal) and horror imagery.

Emergence

It begins sometime in mid-October, around the 18th. Not everyone will experience it at the same time. You might even believe you're spared until days afterwards 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 eventually come upon a stone tablet engraved with your Arcana. Laid on the tablet are three objects:

◎ A dead moth trapped inside a wilted rose, symbolizing Koth of Festering Lands
◎ A teacup inside which sits a single nightshade berry, symbolizing Adlewyrd of Poisoned Tongues
◎ An ornate cracked hand mirror that contains no reflection, symbolizing Sannleikr of Many Faces

Make a choice. Something inside your soul will be drawn towards one of the objects. Maybe you spend hours in the dream deliberating, but sooner or later, you'll pick one of the items up. The moment you do, the other objects vanish and the chosen Herald appears before you. Where one might expect a god to seek subservience, the strange figure instead extends a friendly hand towards you - as though it's greeting you as an equal.

Whispered around you, you hear its name. Then it fades and with it the dream. You awaken.

Affliction

You go about your day as usual. That's when you realize something isn't right. Creatures and people around you behave strangely. You begin to sense that you are the cause.

Depending on your chosen Herald, you'll experience at least one of its afflictions. The effects might start small, then grow. They might rush you all at once. You can't shake what haunts you, though you can try. Spells, potions, and willpower can help keep the afflictions at bay but you won't ever be completely free.

As the afflictions seep into your mind, you start to find shadows of it following you: a dead moth here, a nightshade bloom there, a cracked mirror elsewhere. You may even wonder if it's following you in the first place. What if instead, you are the one leaving these signs behind?

Corruption

The first time you inflict your ability on someone else, you don't mean to. It might be a stranger, some unsuspecting soul, or it might be another Summoned. Regardless, the afflictions that ail you seem to spread through you into another. Someone falls down as if in the throes of an invisible death or secrets spill. You brush by someone and they're suddenly upset and confused.

The more this happens, intentionally or not, the better you feel. You may grow full of life and energy, gain a renewed strength of heart, or radiate a charm that turns heads and garners compliments. The afflictions haunting you could even start to fade or completely vanish. And if you use your newfound power deliberately? You'll feel better even faster for longer. Of course, these boons are temporary, lasting at most an hour or so. When the feeling wanes, you might miss having it.

You are not possessed. You can't control this power that spreads through you, but how you respond or behave is up to you. You could be attracted to the allure of power, enjoy the boons you are granted, or realize you can gain relief from your afflictions if you choose a victim. Not everyone will fall headfirst into the pull. Some are not easily swayed by power, some struggle to overcome their dark impulses, and others would rather endure their suffering than inflict it on someone else. But others still might succumb to temptation and turn on those around them with purpose: once, twice, multiple times. The choice you make is yours alone.

Blight

With the call of the Herald at your fingertips, the world around you twists. No one knows whether this stems from you and your newly imbued afflictions, or if the Heralds are exerting power on their own. It's for sure easier to think of what occurs as the influence of something monstrous beyond your control. No matter the cause, the earth is changed all the same.

Omens

The omens arrive shortly after the initial Summoned receive their dreams, but they don't come to every faction at once. SOLVUNN is first, being home to the Old Gods' shrines, before THORNE and the FREE CITIES follow only days afterwards. Depending on where you are, the omens will affect things a bit differently.

Solvunn

In Solvunn, the ground stirs. A desiccated hand breaks through the grass, a cloven hoof. Human or animal, they crawl forth, animated against their will. Some might attack, but most do not. At the same time, crops around the settlements begin to fail. Some chickens lay rotten eggs while cows produce spoiled milk. Any livestock that perishes overnight will surface in the mornings with empty eye sockets - pecked out by crows or gnawed on by rats. From a distance, the ocean can be seen bubbling as leviathans beneath thrash.

Worth noting is that many of the dead are concentrated around the shrines, especially the ones deep in the woods. They're too decayed to recognize, and some might not even move from the site, as though they are waiting for the earth to take them again...or as though they once chose to give up their life at this very spot.

Summoned can assist by helping to cast spells or place warding charms around shrines, farms, and gardens to protect crops and livestock. As a commune, the Solvunnites will share their resources as much as possible and would appreciate those who might lend a hand bringing supplies, herbs, and offerings to neighbors who are lacking. The Summoned can also brew a common herbal remedy to aid any animals who have fallen ill or to help purify the well water.

Free Cities

In Libertas, the dead buried under the rubble dig themselves out. More crawl forth from graves in Cadens' cemeteries. Beasts and bandits slain in the desert wilds rise, hungry or searching for the ones who killed them. At the same time, dead fish wash up onto the shores of Aquila while birds fall dead from their perch, dropping like flies from an unknown illness. Vultures and other scavengers begin to prey upon the eyes of the dead, leaving behind hollowed-out corpses.

Worth noting is that in the Badlands, a few very old and skeletal corpses rise with a metal plate or two screwed onto their bones, which are also oddly elongated. Only one or two make their way near the city. The army is quick to dispose of them before many can notice. They will not disclose any information about this and will claim these are just monsters like anything else.

Summoned can assist by going on patrol with the soldiers to put down any risen dead. Merchant caravans are also hiring escorts for their journeys. Additionally, they can help look through any received supplies and packages to make sure the food isn't rotting or worse, use a special dissolving compound to purify the waters, and donate staple food items to refugees and the less fortunate who can't afford the rising prices.

Thorne

In Thorne, the dead emerge only from the outskirts of the castle city. Thanks to information from one of their Summoned and their recent monitoring of the Singularity, Thorne was able to act swiftly and was able to ward any royal or otherwise significant burial sites. Graves and tombs of less importance, though, will not be protected in the same way. There are fewer encounters with eyeless corpses, though some animals might appear outside the castle in such a state. Normally extravagant dishes from the Castle's kitchens use simpler ingredients as they struggle to ration their food stores.

Worth noting is that a few unexpected corpses make their way up from deep under the castle in places beyond the dungeons. These are twisted and mangled, missing limbs, heads, fingers. The castle guards are quick to dispose of them before they get too far into the rest of the castle, but one or two may be spotted.

Summoned can assist by contributing to the wards around Castle Thorne and the city, using spells to put down the dead without mangling the corpse, and taking inventory of food stores. Further, in Nott the situation is more dire for anyone who is traveling there to continue assisting with repairs following the attack. Nott will welcome help with any problems caused by the omens. It'll be clear the kingdom has neglected the city somewhat. Thorne will claim the Castle takes priority, of course, due to King and Queen residing there along with the entire royal court.

Apprehensions

Across the factions, locals are beginning to catch on that something isn't right with you, the Summoned. No one will say it outright, but there's an air of caution and wariness around you where you go. Merchants might be quick to hand you your wares so you'll leave or locals give you a bit of space when they walk by. Chatty innkeepers are more reluctant to hold lengthy conversations.

Much of the time, it may not be conscious. The natives might simply sense something off that instinctually makes them want to put some distance between them and you. The only exception? If you've chosen Sannleikr of Many Faces, you'll continue to exude your charm towards people you encounter. At least for as long as you continue to inflict that ability you've been gifted.

Displacement

Everyone responds differently while in the Horizon. You might exert better willpower over your afflictions or you might feel its effects more strongly. It all depends on the individual and their mindset. Regardless, the Heralds are only one part of the equation. There's a much bigger disturbance going on.

It could happen as soon as you enter or it might be as you're stepping over the threshold into another's domain. Whatever the case, you are suddenly not where you're supposed to be. Instead, you're in one of two places depending: transported into a domain you never meant to go into or in a foreign setting altogether.

Visitation

Whether you're the one transported or someone teleports unexpectedly into your space, the Horizon becomes unpredictable for the next little while. Rooms normally locked to strangers, areas you yourself may not even realize exists - you and your fellow Summoned continue to pop in and out despite your intentions.

The effect isn't painful, just disorienting, like missing a step you didn't see or stumbling through a door into a too-bright room. The person whose domain you've inadvertently visited might sense an unwanted presence, whether they're inside the Horizon or not, or they may be completely oblivious. This will depend on the strength of their connection to the Singularity and the Horizon.

Not to worry. You won't be trapped or anything in these cases...unless the domain you land in happens to seal from the inside. You might stumble on secrets you weren't meant to find, though, locked away in someone else's mind.

Ensnared

The less fortunate will be pulled into a space that they've never encountered before. The bizarreness of it resembles the glitchy visions that flashed through a few months ago, but rather than an image flickering by, you are now inside the space itself.

Trapped between minutes to hours, you can't use the Horizon's creation magic as normal. Attempts will falter or go sideways: trying to fly out might cause you to tumble, tools and objects are broken or not quite right, wounds don't vanish or heal completely, etc. More significantly, you can't seem to send or receive messages through your connection. Anything that manages to come through will be garbled and distorted. It's as though the place you are in is just out of the reach of your control.

Luckily, you may not be alone. Someone else may have gotten lost alongside you. They might already be there when you stumble through or they might arrive after you do. They might even fade out sooner than you, unintentionally leaving you behind.

Eventually, you'll be released back into the Horizon proper, spat out in a random place in the Horizon. While you're stuck, though, you can try to survive, explore, sit and wait it out, or make friends with your fellow trapped partner. Each area has its challenges and quirks that you'll need to deal with.

Scenes to Explore

JUSTICE ◎
FULL IMAGE

High in the clouds, these snowy peaks are as cold as they look. Giant marble hands reach out, though their sheer scale means you might not recognize them as hands from up close. You can scale the mountain, but if you try to go down, the hands will flip the mountain, which sends you tumbling to the top again.

It's up to you whether you can be injured when you fall. Maybe the snow will feel like marshmallows, or you'll break a bone on the jagged rocks. No two experiences are the same. If you have a partner, they could end up faring better than you despite being in the same place.

Conjure some warm clothes or a log cabin even if you wish - they might not manifest perfectly, but it'll be better than nothing. At least the view's fairly nice...while the sun is up. A blizzard will come through by nightfall. With it arrives a strange hovering light that entices you or your friend to follow it into the frozen darkness. What draws you out depends on you. It could be a familiar voice, an image, or a simple compulsion. If you're lucky, the person with you is unaffected and can try to stop you. Or maybe you're the one desperately chasing after the other person?

---

THE CHARIOT ◎
FULL IMAGE

From a distance, it's hard to tell if they're shipping containers or houses stacked atop each other. A gooey mess covers the ground below. Oddly, the smell isn't as unpleasant as the goo looks. It smells like bubblegum or cotton candy, artificial and sweet. When you first fall in, you might land inside one of the homes, on top of the stacked structure, or the ground. You can try to reach anyone else who's there with you, but be careful: the ooze is spreading. Climb if you must or move from room to room. If you don't keep moving, you risk getting sucked into its sticky mass.

Each block of a home is different. Some are furnished, whereas others are empty or filled with strange knickknacks. Some might even have subconscious creations spawned by you. Keep ahead of the gloopy substance, and you'll be fine, probably. Or you can try to fight it back or block its path by sealing yourself in a room or otherwise, which can slow it down significantly. Mostly, you'll have to hope you fade out before the pink mass completely consumes the landscape.

---

THE WORLD ◎
FULL IMAGE

The hazy neon glow obscures a nothingness that seems to extend forever. In the middle of the wet ground are several stacked television sets with wires plugged into nothing. Inexplicably, there's also a cat. At first, it appears perfectly normal, but keen observers will notice that its behavior is on a loop where it will walk a certain path, pause at specific intervals to lick its paws, and meow at set points. It does not acknowledge any of its intruders. You can break its loop by picking it up, at which point it'll go limp as a ragdoll. As soon as you set it down, it'll resume its actions as before.

While you can see the same images as someone else on the screens, it's also possible you'll each see something different despite being in the room together. What you see is up to you. It could be an old fuzzy movie, home videos of your childhood, trivia questions you have to answer correctly, or even a memory or vision you wouldn't want to share. Words or faces taunting you could appear between staticky flickers, or maybe your very thoughts are projected onto the screens for anyone with you to read.

Break the televisions if you want, but given a few short minutes, they'll reform between one blink and the next. Looks like you'll have to keep watching until you're released.

---

THE FOOL ◎
FULL IMAGE

Sprawling and massive, you're unlikely to recognize at first that you're trapped in a labyrinth. Stone walls rise around you, and your surroundings are pitchblack. Manifest a torch or a flashlight if you can, though these will be prone to going out at inopportune times. Escaping over the walls will only send you into another section in the maze.

As you navigate the twisting corridors, you'll encounter any variety of trials and troubles: gaps in the ground, spiked traps, haunting whispers, monsters, decaying corpses. Some of these might've formed from your mind, others might've spawned from anyone else who's trapped with you.

If you aren't alone, do your best to locate your fellow Summoned. Voices do carry and echo over the walls, and there could be landmarks that help you find each other. Finding the exit, however, is another matter. Walk and climb all you want. A way out is impossible until the Horizon chooses to set you free.

Players can pick any scenario that interests them from the four choices above. Unlike the visions from before, characters can accidentally be trapped in as many of the scenes as you want, as many times as you want. Another option is that they can stay trapped in only one scene while a variety of characters fade in and out to join them, or some combination of the two. Choose what works best for your plans.

Each scene will once again carry an associated Arcana etched somewhere inside it, which can change from person to person or instance to instance. It might be on a wall, a table, or on the ground. Characters with a stronger connection to the Horizon are likely to be trapped for longer but the extent of this is your choice and it won't ever exceed a few hours. It's also your choice whether the afflictions continue to haunt them or not. If you want characters to deal with both problems while stuck together, you're welcome to!

Generally speaking, there are no restrictions other than that they won't be able to communicate with anyone outside the area, they can't escape it until the Horizon chooses to release them, and their creation magic will go wrong just enough that it'll make things tricky.

Comments

Jaskier | The Sun | The Free Cities | Adelwyrd

[cointosser]

[open/closed starters below. plotting comment can be found here if you have anything you wanna throw at me! I can add more closed starters. Moglad will be at Jaskier's domain for interaction as well!]

closed to geralt. emotions time.

[cointosser]

You are not welcome here, Master Jaskier. You are not... not right, kupo!

[In any other moment, perhaps the moogle would have looked comical riding a tiny flying mount, black, dangerous-looking armor encasing his small, round frame, with his greatsword drawn, hanging to one side in both paws.]

What on earth are you talking about, Moglad? [Jaskier stares down the moogle who has become his closest creation in the Horizon, but the moogle does not waver. And seeing the dark, pulsing glow of his pom rests something deep and cold in Jaskier's bones. Something that tells him this is wrong.

Moglad's steed gives a warning snort. Look what you did, kupo. He gestures to Bleobheris behind them, with its trunk growing dark, like black ash, and the leaves having turned a muddy brown. Around them litter their corpses, along with abandoned, rotting peacock feathers. You're hurting them.

Jaskier takes a step towards Bleobheris, towards Moglad at its base, with a strangled apology in his throat. But why should he have to? Bleobheris is his, and so is Moglad. And he's never... he's never felt this...

Moglad lifts his sword, standing on the back of his horse as she flies through the air, stamping her hooves on nothing. Leave, Jaskier. I don't want to hurt you, kupo.

Can you? he thinks at the same time as I don't want to hurt you, either. But he hesitates too long, and Moglad's greatsword raises through the air --

Jaskier does not recall how he gets anywhere, only that he is running, and Singularity watches him with his panting heart and cold blood with omnipotent indifference. Where Jaskier steps, he's afraid to look down. Knowing that, with every print of his boots, there grow tangles of horrid purple flowers, petals expanding as black and green berries grow heavy and fall.

And he does not look up, knowing the wisps have turned into moths, feasting on the life in Bleobheris.

When he finally stops, when he can't breathe anymore, he falls to the ground, curled over his knees. His nails dig into soil as the nightshade blooms underneath his hands, staining the soil with the juice of its berries.

He can leave. He can go back to the baker, Kol -- he has not left Kol's bakery all week without feeling this surge in him, as Kol works harder, his hands covered in bruises and wounds that grow deeper by the day --

Jaskier doesn't know how long he sits there, his head in his hands, kneeling as the nightshade grows and blooms and fruits, hearing Moglad's words. You're hurting them. And he cannot wake up.

Bleobheris rots, but these flowers grow without any effort. Toxic. Eager.]

[gynvael]

[ Only once did Geralt visit Bleobheris. He left the moment the wisps morphed into ash-grey moths, the grass around the great tree dying. Should've known, really. There's too much life in Bleobheris for him to exist in it as he is, and the last thing he wants is to bring more death and horror into Jaskier's life.

The room inside Dean's bunker feels safest. There's no life there, nothing that can turn on him. It's wood and steel, buried underground. When he isn't searching for Julie, that is where he's retreated. Thinking. Trying to consider what to do next. (Making effort to keep himself together, so many of his memories and thoughts overbearing.)

With every option exhausted, there remains one thing left: the Singularity. She holds a connection to it. So perhaps...it will know where she may be. He recalls what she said about how the others had heard nothing. Static. Geralt suspects he may be the same. Witchers are not known for their deep connection to Chaos. Jaskier, though. Jaskier is as close to replicating Julie's experience with magic as he knows it: merely human until this world granted him power he took to like a fish to water.

It's a hunch. A guess at best. But he wants to try it.

Geralt takes his motorbike, not Roach, unwilling to handle anything living, breathing. It rumbles along the Horizon—circling around until he pulls up in front of Bleobheris. He expects Jaskier inside it, same as ever. He had seemed all right in the physical world, after all. Unaffected.

Instead, Moglad is shouting. Jaskier is on his knees. Geralt hops off the bike, crouching beside his friend, worry etched into his brows. He touches the bard's shoulder. The smell of nightshade fills the air. Crushed berries stain the earth. ]

Jaskier. Are you hurt?

cw: gore

[cointosser]

[The roar of some unknown fiend is the only thing that pulls him from this well he's falling into. You're hurting them, Moglad said, but he doesn't know what it means -- but he does --

But does he care? Isn't that what truly matters?

Jaskier jerks his head up as the sound cuts off abruptly, staring up with cloudy eyes that take a moment longer to recognize Geralt. There is nothing unusual, he thinks, about Geralt touching him. But somehow he feels a weight behind it.]

No. Why would I be? [He looks down at his hands. There's nothing there but the stains of the nightshade berries, a smear of black and purple. Nothing like blood --

Jaskier coughs, choking, pulling from Geralt's hand. And when he looks down, staining over the berry juice is blood, pouring out of his mouth, and when he breathes he hears the whistle of holes in his lungs. His shoulders. He looks down and there: a hole, blasted through his stomach, pushing a misshapen, pale organ out. Another hole: a glimpse of bone stained red, the wet flash of white fat. Skin scoured red from the heat of the magic setting off.

There's no shield to protect him this time. The blast cuts through him, through his body, leaving holes thick as spears. The nightshade surrounding him all stand at attention, reaching up as if they'll grab onto Geralt --

And all at once they die, curling, black as the berries they'd dropped. Still.]

[gynvael]

[ Jaskier collapses so suddenly, panic seizes Geralt's chest tight. He clutches Jaskier's shoulder even as he knows, even as he understands, that he is the cause. It's not happened since Jo, but he knows. He knows because he can feel it now, filling his lungs with a rush of pure air that makes his head spin.

He calls Jaskier's name once, twice, three times. The bard does not respond. He cannot see the wounds, the blood, but around him the flowers and berries wilt, crumble, rot, and his veins run hot with life. (These aren't even real fucking plants.) Jaskier cries out and shudders as though he's in the throes of death itself and—

(No.)

When Jaskier finally comes to, Geralt is bent over him, gripping his arm so hard it must be bruising. Genuine fear is etched across his face: eyes wide, knuckles white, his entire body tense. It consumes him so abruptly, so fully, that he can't swallow it down, can't think through it. Can't remind himself they're in the Horizon, that it isn't possible to die inside this place.

Fuck. Fuck. ]

Jaskier! [ He shakes him roughly, desperate. ] Jaskier, wake up please—

[cointosser]

[Jaskier is fully unaware of how deeply, how thoroughly, death takes a hold of him in that moment until he is opening his eyes again, to Geralt's hand crushing his arm and that thick, honey voice of him like the scratching of animal claws on a rock. Crumbling, broken.]

Geralt -- [It is the exact way he has heard the name come from his throat once before: buoyant on a mouthful of blood.

He sits up, spitting it out, his stomach turning over with the nausea of deep, copper swallows of the stuff. He heaves, but nothing follows the blood.

And then, all at once, it is gone. He is left lying only among the nightshade. And. Geralt. The Witcher.

Jaskier looks at him with his eyes wide, his face gone white.] What... what was that? [Geralt's hold on him hurts, but among everything else, he can't parse it from the rest. From the pain of his body being blown apart. From the wet stretch of his insides in his hands. He grabs blindly onto Geralt's shirt with his other arm, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.] What happened?

[gynvael]

[ His first instinct is to fold Jaskier into his arms. Then his body stiffens as Jaskier clutches at him. Not because of Jaskier, but because he realizes—he is the cause. Isn't he? It's happened before. Rare, sparse, and he has tried not to think about it, some part of him distracted by a dozen different emotions, thoughts, things he keeps swallowing down. ]

I'm sorry. [ The nightshade is no longer alive, drained of life. He forces himself to release his grip on Jaskier's arm. Abruptly, he pulls back as if burned. ] I didn't mean—

[ Fuck. He just. What had Jaskier seen? What death befell him? (Was it him? He can't help the way his imagination races to places he can normally keep them from: images of Jaskier's death being his fault, truly, in his friend's mind. All the times he wasn't there, when he was too late and Jaskier had paid the price.)

For a long moment, all he can do is stare at Jaskier. His chest tightens in a vice. ] I'm sorry.

[cointosser]

[Now is hardly the time for Geralt to not explain himself – though he rarely ever has – but now, Jaskier truly has no grasp on what happened to him. He felt… he felt his life slipping out between his fingers, trying to hold his body together. As surely as he felt himself have a headache when he woke this morning.

The wet slide of blood and organs in his hands. The pain of it. The heat.

And then Geralt pulls away from him.

He’s left alone, surrounded by the crisp, dead flowers around him. His hands set down, crushing them, hardly strong enough to keep himself sitting up as they shake. His heart hammers so hard he can feel it beating in his tongue.]

What did you do?

OTA. the horizon, sans one bard.

[cointosser]

[Whether a new visitor or a warmly welcomed returner, Bleobheris does not greet them as warmly as it once did. The Great Oak's roots still dig as deep and wide, taking over the glade around it, but all of the artists that one flocked around its base have vanished. Half-formed paintings lay in their easels, balls of yarn unwound and fraying amoung brown, dry grass. What looks to be the shredded shards of a broken lute scatter around a boulder, smashed to pieces.

Worse still, the air smells as smoke.

The brightly colored insects that once flit through Bleobheris's leaves are gone, replaced by the rare glimpse of grey moths, which feast upon the oak's decaying trunk. The leaves that still cling to its branches range from reds to browns, in various states of death.

In the distance, the scream of the horses. The sun has vanished from Jaskier's usually sunny domain, and only heavy, dark clouds hover nearby.

The denizens of his domain are far from calm. The horses can be heard stomping, snorting, and the goldfinch is nowhere to be found, her nest empty. Perhaps you'll venture too close to the entrance of Bleobheris's trunk and be met with the launched body of a white peacock, screaming and pecking, scratching with his claws.

But only if the oak's main protector is occupied. To any visitor sensed approaching, a moogle clad in dark armor upon a flying steed will block their way, a greatsword strapped to his back, his expression grim.] Who are you, kupo? Why are you here? Master Jaskier is gone, and he cannot greet you.

[For a moment, Moglad will stop there, but he will look back at Bleobheris and the pom atop his head will wilt.] But is it right to make them leave, kupo...? What should I do...?

[londonbound]

[ This visitor does not walk up to the great tree, doesn't use the path or the stairs.

He appears, simply and suddenly.

His clothes are wet and rough with sand and salt, wisps of dark curls clinging to his damp cheeks and neck; he isn't wearing shoes, and his shirt is open, dirty and wrinkled, hands scratched-up and raw, lips chapped and windswept.

He appears on his knees, hunched over. Breathless and sobbing.

It takes him a minute to realize the smell of seawater and decay has suddenly gone. ]

[cointosser]

[Jaskier’s entire domain appears to suck in air and hold its breath the moment before a body pops into it, seemingly from nowhere. And though several more leaves fall from Bleobheris’s branches, and the moths flutter away in a small cloud where the visitor arrives, the domain otherwise does not change.

But there is a sense that it recognizes him. That he is not pushed out immediately like another may have been. Bleobheris's trunk groans, the branches shifting minutely overhead. And higher than that do the clouds turn darker, and a light rain begins to fall.

As if to wash over the visitor. To wash away the sand and salt.]

I'm coming! [A small sound in the distance along with the beat of wings.] I'm coming, kupoooo!

[And while the shout may almost sound comical, the moogle that flies down towards their visitor in his black, shining armor arrives with no humor. A blood-red aura that once encased his armor dissipates into nothing as his tiny steed touches down. Moglad dismounts, embedding his sword in the soil before floating down by Rhy's head. Immediately, two paws reach out to hold each side, as if, if he was larger, he would be embracing the man.]

Don't worry, kupo. You're safe. You're safe, Master Rhy! I'll protect you, no matter what! Fear can’t stop Moglad anymore!

[londonbound]

[ It's the voice that finally makes Rhy look up, blinking in shocked disbelief, afraid he's suffering only a momentary illusion. The little creature rushes to him, and it is warm and solid, while Rhy is freezing cold and shaking uncontrollably.

He recognizes this place. Recognizes the furry white friend who takes care of Jaskier's domain.

Rhy reaches up to cup the small body against his face. ]

Moglad... [ His teeth are still chattering. The words come out cracked and raw, from his throat sore with screaming. ] Wh-where's... Jask- kier?

[cointosser]

Oh! You're freezing!

[Moglad warms his hands with the smallest, smallest bit of magic in his paws; like Jaskier, he takes the magic taught to him and makes it more his own. The Witcher sign comes to him like a spell, and his paws warm with their fire, pressed to Rhy's cheeks.

Around Rhy's shoulder settles a warm cloak. There is traces of Jaskier's hospitality in the magic of his domain, in Moglad.

Unfortunately, this is the one question Moglad did not want to be asked. His pom droops as sadness crosses the furrow in his brows.] Kupo... he's not here... I don't know what's wrong, but he was hurting the tree... everyone else... so I sent him away.

[londonbound]

O-oh.

[ Rhy has no idea what to say to that. (Jaskier was hurting the tree?)

He has no idea how long he's been gone; in that senseless, awful place, time had been a void of nothingness that stretched forever. He equally has no idea how he's escaped, and it's only now catching up to him that this is the Horizon as he knows it. Moglad is proof of that, even if Jaskier isn't here.

He needs to wake up. He needs to leave, make sure he can--

But the Moogle's little paws warm his face, soaking up his tears, and that little bit of tenderness is the only thing he wants to cling to right now. ]

I'm sorry.

[ Moglad is too small to properly hug, but Rhy tries, holding him in his hands against his chest as the cloak covers him with a comforting weight. ]

moogle reunion plz

[aquaveiled]

[ It's been quite some time since she properly visited Jaskier's domain, but to say that something is amiss would be an understatement. A man so filled with warmth and welcome to all would never allow this realm to fall into such disarray, to despair. She can feel her own heart hang heavy the further she goes in. It's wrong.

It's much too like the affliction that's taken the hills and fields of Solvunn. The blight they try to treat in person, could the same thing be done her? It isn't her realm to influence, yet...it is her job, isn't it? To heal.

--Or it will be once she's properly questioned. Despite the circumstances, there's immediate relief when she sees a familiar pom. ]

Moglad!

[ Mayhaps she's taking in the surroundings too much, but her scales do seem to have a strangely wood-like texture for once. Beyond that, she looks much the same as she always has. ]

Mayhaps I came to see you.

YES PLS

[cointosser]

[Moglad senses the moment someone so intiamtely familiar arrives in Jaskier's domain, so much so that he can be heard in the distance as he moves astride his steed and gallops through the air -- the for first time, using Aard magic to push him even faster.]

Himeekaaaaaaaa!

[Moglad zooms towards her, leaving his steed behind and flying with his wings flapping rapidly behind him, until he practically crashes into her chest (momentarily forgetting he's encased in his dark knight armor.) His paws are still uncovered and they reach for her, embracing the Au Ra as well as he can.

Moglad doesn't even notice any chance in her (simply because Jaskier is not here to see it.) All he knows is Himeka is safe, and a friend, and beloved, (and maybe Jaskier's wife? He is still unclear on that and hasn't thought to ask further.)]

Are you all right, Lady Himeka? We've missed you! Are you safe? I'll keep you safe, kupo! I've gotten stronger!!

[aquaveiled]

[ Moogles are truly silly little creatures, prone as they are to pranks and mischief. But they carry much more strength of character and spirit than they are often given credit for. It wasn't by accident that Himeka deigned to recreate them in her own Horizon, having spent so much time with the Moogles of Moghome and the Churning Mists. T

Though she knows they're creations of her own mind, Moglad in particular has become something else entirely--he's truly his own person. Jaskier and his friends have seen to that.

She accepts the armored, fluffy little body without hesitation, even if the armor does draw an oof out of her when Moglad makes contact. (Not even going into the pokey bits.) ]

I can certainly see that. A rightful knight protecting his lands, hmm?

[ Himeka gives him a squeeze despite the fact that armor doesn't have much give, ruffling his pom a bit as she pulls back and offers Moglad a tired smile. ]

A lot has happened since we last spoke, but...I'm alright. I know Jaskier was hit much harder than me before all this...

[ Her voice trails off as she looks about the once lively area. ]

...I can't say I'm too happy to see this plague has spread here as well.

[cointosser]

Of courses I am, kupo! Jaskier is always getting into trouble, and he needed someone to protect him! [As he's released, Moglad gives a twirl for her through the air, his tiny wings beating hard. He must have gotten stronger to carry the armor and his sword, but -- some parts of him remain rather soft. (His mind, for instance, and the realization that catching a dark knight of any size can be potentially painful.)] And Master Geralt trained me!

[It's clear that Moglad has picked up one thing for sure, whether it is from him simply being a moogle or, over time, becoming Jaskier's: his ability to talk, to fill silences, and to steamroll through a conversation.

At least Himeka's words get him to pause before he goes into rich detail of what, exactly, Master Geralt trained him in.]

I didn't see him for so long, kupo. But he told me he was okay. But then when he came to visit, he was... wrong. So I -- [Moglad pauses, and even behind the dark of his helmet there might be the sound of sniffling.] I didn't want to see it get any worse, so I told him he couldn't come home... [Moglad's pom falls again, even after his momentary boost from her ruffling.] I'm not sure if he'll forgive me, kupo. But what about you, Lady Himeka? [Moglad flies closer as if inspecting her.] You look a little different. Are you sure you're okay, kupo?

[aquaveiled]

Is he, now?

[ Stronger indeed! And really she only wishes she'd seen some of those training sessions herself. She can imagine the way Geralt's face would pinch together through Moogle antics, even if Moglad were trying his absolute best. ]

Well, then he's lucky to have you both.

[ Though there's only so much that can be done when the world around you changes outside of your control. The Horizon has ever been something of an escape, allowing it's denizens to create small sanctuaries of their own. It's not quite home, not quite the places they left behind, but it can fill the gap for now.

But not this...not a place like this. Fitting for some, mayhaps, but not Jaskier. Though it seems that Moglad has been doing his best to protect both Jaskier and his domain in his own way. The way he puts it is concerning. Himeka's brows furrow. ]

Wrong? What do you mean?

[ Wrong in what way?

The question in turn makes her blink as she looks down at herself. Nothing stands out immediately until she notices that her scales are missing their usual luster and pearlescence. ]

...Yes, I guess I'm just a little out of sorts about all this too.

[ Her limbs don't feel any different. Why do they look almost bark-like? Has all the time she's spent out in the hills and wilds trying to reverse the decay been affecting her in other ways? ]

OTA | Cadens

[cointosser]

[Though his tenuous connection to the Singularity has certainly made him no stranger to visions, Jaskier has decided that if he must be inundated with these strange, alien dreams, then he will make something of them.

So he turns them into art. Into song. Why not? Whatever they mean, they could be a beautiful symbolism for something much deeper. It does not, of course, occur to him to share what he's seen -- this is far from the image he saw once in the Horizon. No, this feels... different.

It is not an odd sight to stumble upon where Jaskier is concerned: a small stage has been raised outside the markets, and there Jaskier stands, his lute in his hands, performing a song he's only recently begun tapping into:

Is it not true that a bitter berry
Can taste sweet to another tongue?
If fortune favors the bold,
Then let the bold become us!

[He leans steps closer to the edge of the small stage, his coat sleeping behind him, and winks to a lovely lass in the front of his assembled crowd. As he steps down, plants begin to bloom at his feet, awing the crowd: flowers with spiked purple petals, with bright green leaves and stems that grow heavy with petals and clusters of unripe green berries.]

Let that dream of wine touch your tongue,
Let that empty hand hold gold.

[He holds out his hand, as the other strums the belly of the lute, and out of it flies a tiny chickadee, peeping its song in tune with his notes, and the pretty young lass brushes his hand.]

You will know the weight of gold.
I will know the weight of gold.

[The effect is not immediate, but once Jaskier has finished the performance and sits on the edge of the stage, stretching his hands, his eyes are bright, his cheeks flushed. And he watches, quietly, as the woman from before passes by a market stall and pockets a ring straight into a ruffle decorating her breast.

He drinks from a canteen from his bag, a bright, sour wine he recently purchased. One among many. Something about his thirst for it has come back. It's tasted so good lately.]

[hextechhead]

[ It used to be that Jayce broke down easily when he was wound too tightly or under a great deal of stress, but he is starting to think that over his time here, he's simply gotten used to it. He suspects that is why he feels more annoyance and frustration, anger even, rather than any fear or anxiety. This is bothersome. It's distracting him from his work. He has to try and dodge people all day so he doesn't accidentally show them their own death (messed up). He can't touch Viktor for the same reason. They're both on edge. The Horizon keeps zapping him places.

It's not his favorite week so far. He is trying to take a walk to get out some of his negative energy when he hears a specific voice. Jayce hasn't been around as much when Jaskier performs so he is drawn to it like a siren's call, and also, for those few moments as he watches, he calms down. It's interesting to watch a master performer work, not to mention he smiles as much as anyone else when the plants bloom at his feet. His mood shifts as he watches.

This is the sort of person Jayce wanted to be, at least on the outside. For all his good looks and his apparent ease with others, a lot of him internally is a mess. He's not anywhere as confident as he's good at pretending and Jaskier really does make it seem so easy. He admires that. And envies it.

Jayce makes his way over to the stage when Jaskier finishes his performance. ]

That was a great song. You seem in high spirits.

[ It's a little strange, actually. They're all going through weird shit but Jaskier seems to be taking it impressively well. Unless he's much better at pretending than Jayce could ever hope to be. ]

[cointosser]

[When Jaskier hears a familiar voice, his gaze snapping up (and up) to Jayce's face, he jumps. A little. Almost as if he's been woken up from a dream. It is hardly a day that Jaskier doubts his abilities in his performances -- he has proven them for years, after all -- but something about today, this moment, watching that woman, had made him feel --

He'd felt.

And now that Jayce has drawn his attention from her, the feeling sort of lessens, though he still gives Jayce the same friendly smile he would normally.]

Ah! Hello, Jayce. [Jaskier pats the stage beside him. He's done performing for now. It's just rather surprising to himself he missed Jayce in the crowd. He's rather impossible to overlook. But it was something about her... and not just her beauty.] Am I? I do try to not look terribly distraught when I'm singing, after all. It'd be a bit depressing to watch. [He holds out the canteen of wine in offering.] That's a joke. I'm as all right as a man can be right now. But, as they say, the show must go on.

sick brain, am alive

[hextechhead]

[ Jayce sits on the stage but a few feet over, shaking his head at the wine. He normally doesn't put so much distance between him and others, but he has a really good reason. ]

Just be careful not to lean in or anything, I've been having to try to dodge people all day, even a bump on the shoulder is setting off a vision.

[ Jaskier can imagine how hard it is to dodge every person around him considering his size. And also, Jayce is not that graceful, so he's not someone who can excel at getting out of people's way. That's been half the exhaustion of his time so far, because it seems like such a horrific response each time. They see their own death. He and Viktor haven't been able to touch since this began at all, not really. It's definitely adding to the general frustration. ]

I'm sure giving people something to listen to that isn't about the disaster is appreciated. A depressing song would be fitting but a little much.

[ The people of the Free Cities have had a rough time recently, and now with the info about apparently walking dead in Libertas, it's raining and pouring in terms of bad news. ]

You're okay though? Not likely to go running at the dead, I hope.

no rush!!

[cointosser]

[Jaskier tips his head at the word "vision." He gives a shrug, taking a sip instead.]

Is that some sort of jest I've yet to understand? [He asks between sips of wine. Unless Jayce has gathered some new power that Jaskier has not heard of yet. Certainly he still has no idea where his ability to transfigure himself into a bird came from. He is not the only one who is receiving these... gifts.

He huffs something like a laugh. A little much. What a kind way to put it. After what has happened to Libertas, it is the last thing he wishes to do. To burden the people further.]

What? Are you mad? Why would I do such a thing? They're not bothering me this year, so I'm like to leave them alone now. Until this magic having brought them back inevitably dies once more. And we are left to pick up the pieces.

[hextechhead]

Have you not noticed anything weird happening to you or around you? Like the nightmares, only different. Viktor and I had one hell of an intense morning. It seems to happen through touch.

[ Not at all of the good variety. Of the what happens when both have a horrific vision of their own inevitable terrible death. Viktor's far more aware of his mortality but it doesn't mean that is easy to witness, and Jayce has never really considered his own death before. He's always been focused on other people and their safety, never his own.

After they were shaken from that, he went in to work, and thought maybe it was just something strange and random. Until he was chatting with Lee and put an arm on her back and she had the same look on her face that Viktor did. Since then, it's been a really, really rough run of stress and heightened emotions he can't tell are real or stress. Jayce looks exhausted. Emotional damage goes much harder on him than physical. ]

I don't know, people do seem to be running right toward them instead of away. They're over in Alucard's graveyard so I doubt he's having a good time of it.

[ It isn't technically Alucard's graveyard, it existed before him after all, but they both know their mutual friend spends a lot of time there. It is what Jayce associates with the graveyard. ]

You were here when it happened last year? Was it just like this?