middleofsomewhere | Fissures of Time: Ongoing

Fissures of Time: Ongoing

FISSURES OF TIME: ONGOING

... POI 10-12

FOR SOME, THE MISSION HAS BEEN MORE MENTALLY EXHAUSTING THAN PHYSICALLY. Distortions sprout around the domain without rhyme or reason, and the camps must be moved every new day to meet them, as well as stopping a distortion from deciding to form under them from their presence.

While there's bare-bones vegetation, at least they have their own resources to help one another, as well as what can be retrieved from the Ministry base during return trips to take misplaced civilians to safety. It's straight-forward so far...

...but that wouldn't be standard for the Voidtreckers, and some in their ranks don't want straight-forward. Starting during the early hours of Poi 10, there will be occasional rumblings throughout the land. They last for a few seconds and then stop, seemingly for hours; but then they return, and as the days go on, so do the tremors increase.

It seems the distortions too have become affected...

THE UNQUIET CITY. (CW: People unable to die/rising from the dead, body horror)

A city of rubble and ruin stretches far out around them, where once there were hills and vegetation. Much of the rubble is still smoking as fires smoulder. The fighting isn't over, heard before it's seen.

It must be connected to the same skirmishes seen in other distortions, and so most of you are prepared to meet warriors on foot and mount. But what awaits isn't only the horror of bloodshed. No: the reason that the fighting still continues even as the city lies in ruin is because fighters fall and rise again, as if death were nothing but a short rest.

Puncture marks litter skin and armour, holes from weaponry and blessed-magic visible in torsos, even the spaces of where portions of one's skull and brain should be.

Yet they cannot stop fighting. They cannot fall to the ground, rest. Whatever drove them to fight this war still inspires them to continue, screaming as much in pain as in some sort of twisted ecstasy. Perhaps they are too shocked to do anything else. A city locked in eternal war, distorted in time, doomed to repeat itself.

It's hard to set the equalisers here. Not much is stable and fights are likely to break out wherever there are people. The people of this city have their factions, but they will not hesitate to band together to fight intruders.

EYE OF THE STORM.

They might feel this distortion before they enter it. A spine-chilling thrill, the feeling one might get at the edge of a storm.

—For a storm it is. The moment they enter it their vision will be obstructed, winds howl around them and rain lashes down furiously making a swamp of the ground below them. It's freezing cold and as they walk they will feel something in the storm. Almost as if there are icy hands, reaching out to grab at them, to pull them further into the worst of the weather.

It's hard to know where to place the equalisers, hard to see where the edges of this distortion are. Easier, not by much, to move further in, to find the epicentre and try and take it down from there.

It's a treacherous journey, but the centre truly is calm, water frozen like crystals. Yet temperatures are dangerously low, so it's in everyone's best interests to set the equalisers quick and get out.

MEAN AND GREEN. As the rumbling continues, there comes a strange and worrying distortion. Worrying, as this distortion can be seen from the outside. A hazy blur that seems to move across the countryside, along the left side of the camp you're stationed at. It gets dangerously close at times, and when it does...

Green tendrils of plant life burst out, entangling people to pull them into the distortion. Or chains of flowers spread from the distortion out across the countryside. Beautiful and colourful in the otherwise sparse environment, but those flowers work as anchors, spreading the distortion, expanding it.

To get rid of it they will need to enter, and inside is a thick jungle of vines and bright colourful flowers awaiting them. The foliage is thick and the air musky and sweet. It's easy to get separated, and getting lost is only a matter of getting turned around. The leaves are sticky and vines move seemingly on their own, curling around unsuspecting limbs, trying to trap people in this colourful paradise forever.

And up in the sky above, a woman's laughter can be heard, the heat of the sun bearing down that becomes uncomfortable quick. But don't look up - you may find a large yellow eye - yellow iris, yellow pupil, golden yellow everything - peering back at you, and find yourself being pulled in by the very ground itself by a powerful force.

NO SANCTUARY. Protecting the camps hasn't been difficult, despite it being a Purple task. Other than rowdy refugees breaking out into fights, little else has appeared to disturb them.

'Eiiiiliiifii.... Siiiiliiifiii...
Merios? Herios?
Don't hide... don't hide...
Everything will be so perfect soon...'

People are woken abruptly in the early hours of Poi 11. If by some special sense, or by a grab at their throat, by a body falling on top of where they sleep, someone else stopping the refugee who was about to take a knife to them.

The refugees have become uncontrollable, raving about wanting 'their Gods back'. The ground rumbles as the woman's voice from the hazy jungle - ethereal, so divine - speaks from below. Grass rises and the sky above burns with a brightness like an approaching sun.

Setting an equaliser will calm the refugees, but only those in the camps. Starting from lunchtime, more warriors and civilians will be found appearing from the distance and from thin air, seemingly knowing where to find the Voidtreckers' camps - and after some very specific people.

Those with divinity, control over weather, nature, and death will be especially targeted, along with anyone who received blessings from the Gods.

OOC NOTES

OOC post. Ask questions here. Let us know about shenanigans here. NPC requests here, set up a thread here. Rewards go here.

TL;DR: Starting on Poi 10, there will be odd tremors around the domain, and more aggressive time distortions. From Poi 11 refugees will lose control of themselves and start attacking Voidtreckers, in and out of the camp.

It will happen abruptly to begin with, but some keen to reading energy will find that it is shifting; like something is breaking in from somewhere else (similar to the time distortions).

Extra equalisers can be picked up from the Ministry base and they will be there to help, but there are also more distortions happening around the domain, so they'll be dealing with those. The Ministry will advise that any non-combatants should stick to the base, and even use the scouting drones to help from afar, if they really need to help.

Undead warriors can be found outside of time distortions, and not all of the people outside of distortions will be 'permanent' people. Equalisers can be kept going for a few hours to keep these people away, but will also need go into recharge/cooling mode.

Don't worry if you're still busy with the Starting log! Or if you've been meaning to tag, jump in here!

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Mina still felt horrible over this, softly crying as she wrapped her arms around her friend.

Thunderbeak started preening them both. Which... well he's not the small bird he seems to think he is, and it probably isn't comforting to Mina. It might even be painful. Najaran is used to it, however.

Mina winced as Thunderbeak preened her. It did hurt a bit, but she could tell it was being down out of comfort. As he did so, she wrapped her arms around Najaran, trying to comfort her.

After a very long while, Najaran spoke, her voice was thin. Distant.

"The Goddess Culdra created the world. All the worlds," she said, reciting a story she knew by rote, but as if detached from it.

Because she had to be.

She created everything that was by first creating a book called the Culdcept. The Book Of Creation. Into the Culdcept she wrote everything else that would exist. The creatures, the plants, the buildings, the people. Everything that should ever exist, was written in the Culdcept."

Najaran had been told by Grubel that the end of all worlds was also written in the Culdcept, but Najaran couldn't believe that. Or maybe she just didn't want to. Didn't want to think of the Goddess Culdra having written an ending. Having chosen to destroy, rather than create.

"One of the forms of creation Culdra wrote into the book were other Gods. Many other gods. They were powerful, but none could create, for Creation lay only in two places. Within Culdra and within the Culdcept itself."

A deep breath, but she was still distant. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them.

"The God Baltheas stole the Culdcept and wrote his own creations into it. Dark creatures. Evil. All the harms and ills of the worlds came from Baltheas' time with the Culdcept. The gods went to war. Most helped Culdra to try and retrieve her book and stop the Dark Elemental Lords that Baltheas had created to prey upon Rakkan first, and then the other worlds."

Her voice became, if anything, more hollow.

"In the war, the Book Of Creation, The Culdcept, was shattered. The pieces of it fell across the various worlds, each in a different form. In Rakkan it is in the form of Cards."

Another heavy breath.

"Baltheas was sealed away, as were his Lords. Sealed away, but not destroyed. The Gods withdrew. The world grew and changed and moved on, on its own." But according to Grubel, even this had been written. Could be read by one who knew how.

After a while it became clear that Najaran was done talking. so Goligan picked up the explanation.

"Cepters, people like Najaran who can use the Cards that were once parts of the Culdcept are rare. And generally feared, because enough of them use their power for personal and destructive reasons that even Cepters who would never cause harm are attacked or worse." One edge of his mustache came up to wipe a tearing eye. "But one thing that had always been true of Cepters is that none of them, the bad ones especially, could work together for long. For most, greed drew them, prayed upon them. The lure of the Cards was too strong, and they wanted not just their Cards, but all Cards. And where Cepters fight, anyone caught nearby could be killed. It is another reason that they are feared." This wasn't fully the truth, but the best exception they knew, they both were aware was a secret.

Najaran gave a small nod, her shoulders rounding downward.

"But recently," Goligan said, continuing, "As in just over the past few years, a group called the Black Cepters have risen. They work together, and towards the same goal. Collecting all the Culdcept Cards to recreate the Culdcept. To gain power over creation itself and remake the world as Baltheas would have wanted it."

"The Black Cepters are evil," Najaran said, her voice gaining strength again at last. "They will do anything to get what they want and don't care who they hurt, what they destroy. I will never be like them," firmly. "Never." Then she shook her head and tears fell. "I don't want the power to Create. I just... want to protect my friends and eat good food and take long naps. I just want everyone to be safe and happy..." she whispered, strength fading again.

Mina listened to Najaran’s story and realized the terrible truth that came about her powers and her desires. The Black Cepters were cruel and their ambitions evil. She realized she made a terrible mistake suggesting that she should.

“Then, don’t. I don’t want to create, either. I want to protect my friends, I want to end the war I’m stuck in. I…”

Mina reached over to cup Najaran’s cheeks, lifting her head up.

“…if you’ll let me, when the time comes, I want to go with you. I want to protect your friends and family, too. We can eat good food and sleep all day long.”

Some of the blankness left Najaran's eyes and she swallowed and nodded a bit. "Alright," she said.

"And not all creation is bad," Goligan put in, feeling obligated to be the adult. "Just creation on the Culdcept level. Like creating new spells."

Najaran nodded a bit against Mina's palms, slowly coming back to herself. "Like creating yummy new dishes is okay," she said, starting to sound a bit more like herself.

Goligan clearly would have nodded if he could. "Culdra herself gave people the ability to create on the small scale. To not use it would be to disrespect her gifts."

“Then, let’s do that. We’ll create all the meals we can.” Mina said. “We can do that when we get back on the train, too!”

Her eyes went soft and apologetic as she spoke again.

“And I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so sorry…”

Najaran rubbed at her face. "You didn't know. Not your fault," she mumbled. "and scared, more than hurt." Scared. Freaked out. Panicked.

And Mina’s hands slide down to Naja’s shoulders before she pulls her into a hug.

“I’m glad. We need to regroup now…”

She returned the hug, then looked out over the mess below them. "How do we even begin to help of the people we're supposed to be protecting are attacking us, and we can't use Cards?" she asked, miserably.

Mina winced. “That’s… a good question. We’re missing something, though…”

"Like what?" she asked, rubbing the back of her head, unsure. Thunderbeak nipped her arm lightly.

“Maybe we’re doing this the wrong way? M-maybe there’s an angle we missed…?” Mina suggested.

Leadership is not a strong suit of hers.

Not Najaran's either. "I wish Alta were here, bet she'd have this figured out in a snap." Not that she'd share before leaping into action and dragging all of them with her, but that was just who Alta was.

“Same with Sally. She and Nicole would have solved this easily…” Mina said, wistfully.

"Maybe someone else on the train knows? Do you see Leia? She's smart."

“Mmmn…!” Mina strained as she tries to see who else was out there and yet…

“I don’t see her…”

"Anyone else you know? That might know?" Would Duo have known, if he were here?

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Fissures of Time: Ongoing

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