this is Salem, a land filled with magic and maladies. It is a place where witches and their elemental familiars gather, a home to legend and
lore that predates time itself. Yet of all the wicked and wonderful stories the past can tell us of, the most magical are the ones yet to happen.
This is Salem - this is the start of your very own journey. Welcome to starfall
Starfall is an animaga witch roleplay set in mostly modern times. Members play as witches in a world plagued by monsters, where the only safe spots are walled cities. Starfall strives to be a character-driven roleplay with expansive lore and a highly interactive plotline. We want to allow members to
create and look back on a magical journey, and mold the site and its plot as their characters grow.
Eira does not find the bustling streets of Sundial to be a comforting place nor is she particularly fond of the prying eyes from the citizens of Sundial. Yet, she makes her way down the crowded street without a second thought; a familiar presence pushed comfortably against her side as she carefully maneuvers the crowd. Her eyes are watchful, simply awaiting a break in the crowd before she dare slips to the side to await the arrival of a close friend.
She had came across her covenmate countless times and all through chance meetings though today is something different compared to the past; today their meeting was planned to unfold a mystery that had yet to be uncovered. Eira adjusts her stance, pressing her back against the firm wall of the building as she searches for Lynnelia though her attention is temporarily grabbed by the logical voice of Lucia– a hint of concern laced between her own words.
(You seem so confident to explore something that haunted you for so long, why?) The canine presses, unable to understand the rationale of her own witch; it seemed that Eira was far more willing to step out of line in such little time. She could recall the countless times Eira had awoken with a start, sweat plastered onto pale skin; the memory of watching Lynnelia go up in flames before her very eyes.
I have dealt with so many lies and with the council unwilling to reveal the truth, I will find it for myself. Her words are more stern and confident with her cause despite the search for answers being so tedious. Was Silvertongue truly to blame or was there more to meet the eye? The death of Mallori, the nightmares, the red streak… It was all strangely timed with another.
(You may be doing more harm than good, not everything is worth a ri-) Her familiar’s words are cut short as she pushes them towards the back of her mind. While Eira did appreciate her concern, she would not be swayed to think nor act otherwise.
Eira glances over the disgruntled look that sweeps over the graceful features of Lucia or how the maned wolf’s ears perk forward to listen into a small growing crowd just a few strides away. Was it a street show or something far more heinous in nature? The canine was uncertain.
Desmond isn't terribly concerned that Silvertongues were banned from the Empyreal Cup. The whole ordeal was packed with far too much excitement for his tastes. After sitting through the opening ceremony, all he really wanted to do was go back to Tay's place, grab a drink he'd stashed away, and paint until he passed out. On his way there, however, he didn't have anything better to do than accompany the equally (if not more so) introverted Laurent, whom he'd run in to during the games.
Unfortunate, perhaps, is his inability (or is it unwillingness?) to hold extended conversations. He is comfortable in silence, and, thus, rarely speaks unless he has something to say. Fortunate, however, is his walking partner's similarly quiet disposition.
It is easy to notice how the commotion of the street grows and bodies cluster around a scene. Desmond can't see past the people, but he can see the signs of adjacent shops, the flickering of a lamppost, a frantic horse clomping around the gathering. He realizes he'd seen this before, but from the other side of the human wall: the splintered wood of a carriage having lost control, the gushing blood which stitches simply could not hold, the faces of concern and fear and helplessness and shock. Known for his visions of death, Desmond is not unfamiliar with such a scene. He is numb to it.
"Ah... that's how it happens..." the seer mumbles as his pace slowed to a stop, and then suggests, quite neutrally: "We should go around." Laurent, likely, is not numb to such things.
[attr="class","much_text"] ◥◤ He takes special care to remain a step behind Desmond Grey, the thought of walking side by side with a customer unsettling and frankly, unnatural. He reminds himself that he cannot undermine the integrity of his practice and the professionalism that was hammered into him by his benefactor ( his second father that had taken him in after his falling out with his family ). There's a huff of exasperation in his mind as he feels Sigrun rolling her eyes at his "ridiculousness". He doesn't quite understand what she finds absurd; he would be disrespecting Desmond Grey if he were to assume that there was an equality between them. Blinking owlishly, his gaze lowers to stare at the grey pavement beneath him, now completely unsure of his own values.
[break][break]The commotion from the Empyreal Cup fades away as he walks further from the Knights' Hall until all he can hear is the general bustle of the population as they carry on with their lives. He begins to feel at peace with himself when the pressure in his chest finally releases its tight hold upon his heart. Sigrun brushes up against his hip, her gait almost in line with his covenmate, further loosening the knot in his stomach and he feels his shoulders drop. Almost back to normal, almost.
[break][break]Suddenly the chatter around him breaks the meditative reverie, causing his steps to stutter and his eyes fluttering to reaffirm his surroundings. Desmond says something that he doesn't quite catch and before he can save himself, his forehead hits the shoulder blade of his covenmate. ( Sigrun at this point has travelled in front of both of them, seeing the carnage of the carriage with stormy eyes ). Face burning in embarrassment ( and shame ), he whips his head back and gets ready to lift his head up when he hears his familiar's voice inside his head. "Do not look, my cub."
[break][break]He stiffens at that, his body turning rigid. What could be up ahead that Sigrun doesn't want him to see? There's an utterance from a bystander about a carriage and the poor souls. At that, nausea immediately piles at the back of his throat and he slaps a hand over his mouth. His gaze rooted to the floor, he can only nod when Desmond tells them to divert in their path.
[break][break]if only they had slipped out he crowd faster; if only something had happened a little sooner. it seems, however, that fate or circumstance did not want the four to move past this disaster quite yet. the carriage had swerved into a pole, and, since it had been traveling at a magically enhanced speed, the driver had been killed instantly. the two passengers, young women, lay sprawled across the road, waiting for the arrival of authority. [break][break] laurent borchardt and Desmond Grey had been nearly at the back of the crowd while eira vadén still hovered some feet away-- when suddenly, it happened. laurent borchardt heard a screeching in his mind, like someone had tried a mysterious whisper but it had all gone to hell in the middle of "whisper" and the result was a sort of raspy, shrill scream worse than a banshee's cry.[break][break] ＯＰＥＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＡＴＥＳ． ＯＰＥＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＡＴＥＳ． ＯＰＥＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＡＴＥＳ． ＯＰＥＮ ＴＨＥ ＧＡＴＥＳ ＯＲ ＤＩＥ ＡＳ ＴＨＥＹ ＨＡＶＥ， ＭＩＳＥＲＡＢＬＥ ＭＯＲＴＡＬ． [break][break] albeit, it may have been difficult to understand past the first few lines, because the voice was accompanied by a rush of what felt like a sensory overload. laurent would likely scream from the mental burden himself, then promptly feel wholly exhausted and very weak in the knees. [break][break] this would, of course, be very visible to eira vadén and lynnelia arnett, and doubtlessly occur right beside Desmond Grey. the seer may additionally feel an omnipresent surge of energy, seemingly concentrated on his companion. [break][break]
[attr="class","stafftempsubtext"]
thread-specific rules
potential for severe injury. not death enabled, no particular warnings as of yet. [break][break] no thread-specific rules as of yet. you have 72 hours to post in reaction to this post. two missing rounds will result in an elimination from the thread. [break][break] laurent borchardtDesmond Greyeira vadénlynnelia arnett
[attr="class","much_text"] ◥◤ Scalding bile burns at the back of his throat as it crawls up his esophagus, threatening to spill over with each shaking breath. With a hand pressed tightly against his mouth and the other on his chest, he hunches over as he represses the urge to throw up. Despite not seeing the carnage in front of him, he thinks he can smell the metallic stench of the blood and he cannot stop a muffled groan passing through his fingers. He feels a rough but wet sensation on his cheek and through blurry vision, he sees the anxious amber of Sigrun's eyes staring at him with immense concern. Blinking misty lashes, he swallows and shakes his head. He will be fine.
[break][break]No sooner does he think that the nausea has passed, an excruciating pain suddenly sears into his brain when something shrieks. A wheezing gasp is punched out of him as his hands come to clutch at his temple, gloved fingers digging into his hair and gripping it tightly. He feels his knees crumple beneath him and they hit the stone pavement with a crack, but such pain is nothing compared to that of which torments him.
[break][break]Utter fear is coursing through him when, in a moment of awareness, he thinks he is having a panic attack. An attack triggered by something so insignificant compared to his previous experiences and amidst the public. ( At this point, he cannot feel Sigrun, their connection cut when the headache began. ) The only thing holding back the whimpers at the bottom of his larynx are the rasping breaths that he struggles to take in when he exhales too quickly.
[break][break]He cannot breathe. He cannot breathe. Hecannotbreathehecannotbreathehecannotbreathehecannotbrea-.
[break][break]Then suddenly, amid the sheer chaos of his blank thoughts, a voice speaks ( or rather, screeches ), horrible and strident, grating hoarse and confusing words into his mind. In the haze, what coherence he has left remembers that he has never hallucinated voices before in his breakdowns, but such a thought is washed away when his consciousness pieces together the disturbing message: "open the gates...open the gates or die as they have, miserable mortal." The words, or more accurately, the sensation of the words causes him to scream, the terrible sound ripping through his vocal cords and piercing through the unintelligible mutterings of the crowd.
[break][break]With the complete release of emotional control following his cry, sobs begin to ravage his body as his devastated mental walls fall completely. Head still cradled in his hands, it begins to shake as he wails, "Nonono, I don't know how. I don't know how. I don't know how." [break][break] tag:Desmond Greyeira vadénlynnelia arnett [break]ooc: c r i e s [break]!!!!! : i don't have Sigrun's reaction because Lau himself wouldn't be aware of it, however in this scenario, she too would be suffering mental distress albeit not as distressing as Lau. So feel free to have her convulsing a little and displaying pain and agony.
[attr="class","alive_mucha"]
[attr="class","alive_much2"]-- Like most misery, it started with apparent happiness.
The seer notices the energy first. It swells suddenly and (seemingly) without cause. He halts. Eyes trace the growing concentration. Closer than the accident. Closer than the gathered crowd. Closer than the lamp post at its outer edge. Des turns, and he sees its core.
Laurent falls.
The seer doesn't know what's happening -- not exactly -- but that's par for the course in his life. He kneels next to the tailor, voice low. "Mr. Borchardt, are you able to st--" It's clear he either wasn't listening or couldn't hear, even at just the first few words. Even so, Desmond wasn't expecting the sudden scream. The piercing sound causes him to jolt back and stare at his previously-silent companion in alarm. His nonsense wails do not help Desmond's appraisal of the situation. Even a blind fool would have been able to see that something was terribly wrong.
After a short stretch of silence, he decides it best to remove the afflicted Silvertongue from this place. "I do hope you'll forgive me for this later..." he huffs as he physically lifts the slender fledging, attempting to keep a firm hold on his limbs in case he attempted to lash out. As he rises, so to does the looming figure of his familiar, summoned from the outer strata. Despite its size, the arachnid almost looks like it's concerned when it picks up Sigrun with utmost delicacy.
The crowd, from the seer's perspective, may as well have not existed; he didn't appear the least bit inclined to explain himself to them as he hoisted himself and the younger Silvertongue onto the spider's back.
It had took a moment for her to realize the circumstances, blue eyes widening underneath the fabric of the blindfold as she nears the crowd; catching a small glimpse of the blood that stained the streets and the limbs that lied there motionless amongst all the chatter. Eira winces at the sight though she keeps her lips firmly shut, taking a moment to step away from the mess that seemed to have unfolded within a matter of seconds– she has witnessed death countless times and she almost wonders, was she the cause of all them? The mayor, the death of two of her own covenmates...
It was scream that broke through the static, her mind grounded for just a moment as she turns her head to face the source; how the strange seemed to crumple into themselves all while yelling words she didn’t quite understand. Lucia soon pushed past her witch, her steps careful as she observes an older man assisting what she could only assume was his acquaintance with how easily he addresses them.
(Something isn’t right and I assume he only knows. You came here for a hunt, follow them.) Lucia insists to her own surprise though if it was the truth that Eira so desperately wanted to uncover then so be it; a chase needed to be had.
Eira lingers for just a moment in the crowd, a glimpse of white flashing in the corner of her eye and she notices Lynn. She reaches a hand out for her, touch gentle as she grabs her hand briefly to lead her after the two strangers without much thought despite her disgust, “I was looking for you earlier and I’m sorry to pull you into a mess, but I think they may know something.” She insists.
Post by lynnelia arnett on Jan 19, 2018 9:16:49 GMT
i know you're unrehearsed, but i see the light in your hands.
A dark figure shadowed the pavement, velvet cloak kissing across the ground as its hooded master advanced; starkly pale strands feather against the cloth, peeking from beneath the cover, strewn across clothing and flesh, dancing to the whims of the breeze. Cold eyes survey the crowd, an undeniable chill hidden beneath the gaze; Lynnelia had come for one person and one reason— she was not to allow herself to waver from purpose. [break][break] Medea, silken and iced, padded softly beside her witch; the fox glistened, mesmerizing yet menacing, with the shards of frost peppering her fur, a whirl of cold surrounding her lithe form. The familiar remained firm beside Lynnelia, ears turning in points of interest, the canine’s own sharp eyes keeping watch for their covenmate. [break][break] That was, until they caught something else. [break][break] Muscle strained as the wood splintered; a sickening mesh of collision assaulting the pair’s ears, Medea’s nostrils flaring in sudden alarm while her witch tensed on impact with the noise; the air seemed to grow rigid with sudden, though hesitant interest, before the two began moving seamlessly once more. [break][break] The cement spilled itself over in the bloodied mess of its own disaster, a life claimed with two more awaiting sentencing; Lynnelia itched to help, her arm twitching for a moment before stilling once more— you are not strong enough for this, yet, my dear. [break][break] Lynnelia instead moved her hands with a flutter, pulling back the hood of her cloak to reveal the snow of her hair, and mere moments after did she find herself in the company of whom she was seeking. [break][break] “I was looking for you earlier and I’m sorry to pull you into a mess, but I think they may know something.” [break][break] For a moment, “they” refused to register, sitting plainly upon Lynnelia’s thoughts before seeping into the flow. Her eyes flicked to a pair — a writhing man with a pained feline by his side finding assistance in an almost surly-seeming counterpart with an oversized arachnid. Lynnelia’s brow rose, though she heeded with no protest to Eira’s lead, her chin instead dipping down the slightest motion in agreement with the illusionist’s assessment. [break][break] “Aside from— that, did you notice anything strange happening with those two? Maybe before the crash?” Lynnelia intoned to her companion, attention momentarily leaving the two unknowns to settle for a beat on her friend.
ɪᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ. ɪᴛ ɪs ʜᴇʀᴇ. ɪ ᴄᴀɴ sᴍᴇʟʟ ɪᴛ. ʀᴇᴛʀɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴇʏ ᴏʀ ᴘᴇʀɪsʜ the voice leaves laurent borchardt with those words of warning before it finally subsides, the static and raspy whispering finally gone and the rush is replaced with utter exhaustion as though whatever spirit had overcome him had laid waste to every muscle and every fiber in his body. laurent may have felt compelled to sleep if not for the reigning fear: what the fuck was that? [break][break]the crowd screeches as grendel appears- a gigantic and horse-like spider that quickly spans a large portion of the road. instantly, they have attracted the attention of almost every passerby. was that really a good move? "do you even have a license for that monster!?" someone screamed. [break][break] the mess of the street offers a few choices of which going past the accident with grendel carrying laurent is certainly not an option. [break][break] when the familiar tries to rush behind the crowd and away from attention, she is only partially successful. after she cuts a corner away from the crowd, one of her legs catches inside a muddy hole, and the ground seems to slip-- awkwardly, the familiar struggles to stay above the surface, but the surface itself seems to be tearing apart-- unattended bits of the recent reconstruction, no doubt. [break][break] in the struggle, laurent borchardt and his familiar fall into the gaping hole while grendel herself seems very uncomfortably stuck in the mouth of the opening, some legs dangling while a few were dug firmly into the muddy patches above.[break][break] oops.
[attr="class","stafftempsubtext"]
thread-specific rules
the fall may cause a sprain or minor to medium injury. the opening isn't wide enough for grendel to wholly fall into, and could get extremely close-quarters if she is pushed in any further.[break] potential for severe injury. not death enabled, no particular warnings as of yet. [break][break] no thread-specific rules as of yet. you have 72 hours to post in reaction to this post. two missing rounds will result in an elimination from the thread. [break][break] laurent borchardtDesmond Greyeira vadénlynnelia arnett
"Absolutely useless..." Des mutters under his breath with venomous detest as his familiar breaks through the ground of the street and drops the two creatures it was tasked with carrying. The seer did nothing to quell the distress of the crowd other than simply wave his hand dismissively. Grendel was licensed -- after all, he'd materialize significantly larger if he wasn't -- but experience told him that informing anyone of this fact did little to soothe their mistrust.
Grendel is dispelled to unblock the opening of the collapsed street, but is immediately re-summoned (much to the arachnid's dismay) between the crowd and the collapse. With the hole cleared, Desmond carefully jumps down, noting the absence of the unusual energy which had been centered on Laurent just moments ago. "Are you alright?" he asks plainly, giving the tailor a questioning stare. He very much wanted to understand what just happened and, perhaps more importantly, to know whether there was a need to heal any physical injuries on the young Silvertongue.
Meanwhile, on the surface, Grendel eyes the crowd nervously. Another ground collapse endangering innocents is the last thing the spider wants. Being attacked with fire and blades was the second least favorable option, though it seemed like a likely consequence at the moment. Segmented legs rise and fall in a slow, random sequence, almost as if preparing to jump, but ultimately keeping the core of their body in place. He was fidgeting. "Uh... h-hi there..." greets the beast in the most anti-climatic voice imaginable for such a ghastly appearance. It was soft and wavering, with a tone which was not at all deep or hostile. "There's, uhm, n-no need to scream... you're just going to hurt your throats..."
The ground seemed to rumble underneath them and carefully break way until the large familiar seemed to have forced it away upon stepping on a weak spot in the crowd; the witch and familiar it carried on its back toppled down into the opening the earth made. She could feel her own disgust bubble up within her though, unlike the witches that screamed, she had kept quiet as she watched the large familiar barely stay afloat. She winced at the sight before she forced her head away to look towards Lynnelia, “It seemed that the carriage was enhanced and got out of control. Then, I overheard the screaming the witch that fell made and how quickly the other was to rush them away.” She explains, unsure how much of the event Lynnelia had truly seen.
(It's getting loud for you, I can feel your discomfort rising. Not everything is worth chasing my dear.) Lucia calmly coos within her witch's mind, her head carefully craning down to nudge her hand though Eira seems to move it away. She wasn't willing to listen to the advice her familiar had, not this time.
“Unfortunately if we want to progress, the crowd has to at least be under control and we have to see if whoever fell down in that hole is fine.” Eira soon adds without thought, unaware if she interrupted her covenmate or not. She turns on her heels and almost hesitates before she attempts to calm the crowd herself. It seemed the man had aimed to do the same.
“I’m sure the familiar is licensed, but there are more pressing matters at hand. It would be best to check up on the poor people that got harmed in the accident, I’m sure whomever will recall their familiar just in case.” She forces her voice to break through all the noise all the while she recites Aura of the King within her mind. Eira was unaware of what the effect the spell would have, but it was worth the attempt.
Items Used: Aura of the King
tl;dr: Eira attempts to calm the crowd by using her handy dandy aura and lowkey tells Desmond to put that familiar back where they came from or so help her.
[attr="class","much_text"] ◥◤ Weakness cannot be seen for it shall bring a great disgrace upon--
[break][break]How does it end, Laurent thinks drearily from beneath his screaming consciousness. What are the final words that elude him? Substitutions echo within his head, never quite right and never quite there, the only constant being his father's reprimanding and coarse voice shouting alongside that of the rasping one. He cannot remember and that is not good, he has to remember.
[break][break]
'Sigrun? What were those words? Sigrun?'
[break][break]His beloved familiar does not respond and his breathing hitches, hands curling tighter in his hair. That makes things harder to bear, harder to recover from. He tries again and she responds with silence once more, the sheer nothingness in their connection bringing about a discomfort that has bile crawling up his throat. Releasing a hand from his head, he tries to reach out for the lynx, hoping to be able to calm her down from the torment they shared. But no sooner had he lifted his arm, his strength fails and it drops, the action itself causing his breathing to become heavier.
[break][break]A deep rumble of something sounds beside him and it takes him a second to realise that it's Mr. Grey's voice. The words are blurred and he can only shake his head, not understanding what his covenmate has said. Another rumble and suddenly he feels the cobblestone moving away from him, only to be replaced by something furry. Even with his eyes open, he cannot tell what it is and whispers hoarsely, "What?"
[break][break]He knows he is moving when his body slides on the furry thing beneath him, to where he is unsure. There are whimpers and utterances of fear surrounding him and he wonders what exactly is frightening them. Did they experience the same affliction as he did? Or is it something else?
[break][break]Cognisance slowly comes back to him as the pain subsides and he can see the ground moving beneath him as he hangs off of something dark. Sigrun's presence slowly begins to ease its way back and he tugs at her, eager to hear her voice again. She responds with a pulse through their connection, but she says nothing.
[break][break]Things begin to return to normal, except for the fact that he has been draped over something moving. He wants to question what has happened, but before he can even summon the strength to speak, the creature rounds a corner and suddenly it disappears. Gravity acts upon his body and he gasps at the back of his throat as he is flung into the air. He falls into something wet and smelling distinctly of earth, mud, feeling the watery dirt seep into his clothes and plastering upon his face and hair.
[break][break]Grimacing, he tries to push himself up, faltering when a pain shoots up his hand. Horror floods him when there's an excruciating agony in his wrist. Hardly able to move his fingers, he chokes back tears as he falls back into the mud.
Post by lynnelia arnett on Feb 2, 2018 10:14:46 GMT
i know you're unrehearsed, but i see the light in your hands.
“Mm,” she hummed to Eira. “I saw… most of it, more glimpses than anything— but I suppose this is the best we’re going to get for a lead; too coincidental,” she continued, gaze turned steely for a moment as she lost herself in though, before pulling herself forward and back to the reality she was unsure she wanted anymore. She did realize the threat of the familiar — the arachnid — as the crowd swelled and swore and lost themselves with fright. She had to keep herself in check from any outward irritation; the creature was helping, and with its size compared to others dispersed along the lane, it was as safe of a bet the poor man had. [break][break] “Yeah… I can go and check up on him, I have a, ah” — a stumble and crash echoed through the area as the arachnid rounded a corner, and Lynnelia could not help the sudden wrinkle of her features — “healing spell that may be of use here.” [break][break] I can try to soothe the crowd— you go and check on the boy. I’d like to think I’m not nearly as alarming as that thing proved to be, Medea’s soft tones ran languidly through Lynnelia’s mind, and the fox received nothing more than a supportive pulse of approving energy through the connection before the pair parted ways. [break][break] She stepped carefully toward the chasm, though the other man — the one she surmised the creature, familiar, belonged to. She froze momentarily, wondering, for a second, how she was to approach them. Perhaps a concerned bystander would work better, though she did not receive the most welcoming aura from the unharmed witch before her. [break][break] “Do they need a healer?” she asked instead, tone nonchalant and passive, chin tilted to the side in curious thought, though a hint of (mostly) genuine concern could be found in her eyes. “A fall so sudden…” [break][break] On the other end of the connection, Medea cooed at the worried citizens, her smoky appearance dimming into a cool breeze; non threatening and beautiful, a holy image of an otherworldly being. The fox tsked as a mother would, listening to the fears and consoling the distraught. Eventually the arachnid spoke, and a calmer look overtook the fox. “You see,” she implored of the onlookers. “It means no harm; a registered familiar who did nothing but aid a fallen friend does not, I believe, warrant fear over its form— though I suggest, for your own sakes, going on with your days work; it would probably be best to leave this up to the authorities,” she continued, though she did not sounds abrasive— rather, she appeared motherly; protective and understanding. Her only hope was that it would assist in their attempts at crowd control.
Although the disembodied voice was no longer singling Laurent out, it was far from gone. Witches in the immediate area around the street's new gaping hole would begin to hear the same static crackling that the weaver had just been plagued with, albeit to a much lesser extreme. Only a few words make it through the noise: "ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴀʀᴇs-... ᴍʏ ᴋᴇʏ-..." Many from the crowd mistook it as mere verbal utterances of some nearby stranger, but enough of them looked around with anxious glances, draping the area in an aura of unease.
[break][break]Thankfully, the Helios Knights were working to amend the situation with the resources currently available to them on such short notice. @emery is one of the Knights visited by a magically enhanced courier pigeon, zipping through the sky like a streak of lightning as it carries a short letter with the seal of her coven marked on its corner. It reads as follows: "Member of the Helios Knights, you are requested and authorized to secure the safety of Sundial's citizens around any events of architectural failure. DO NOT enter into the sewers. DO NOT enter buildings on the verge of collapse. You may use magic at your discretion."
[break][break]The thundering collapse of the road just a few minutes ago made it easy enough to tell what the "architectural failure" referenced in the letter was referring to, and was more than enough to draw other people (such as august carter and Hazel Halcyon ) towards the area as well. (There is also the subtle beckoning, a wordless whisper urging witches closer, and closer still). However, the curious intrigue is broken by a sharp shriek and sudden movement as the surrounding witches begin to scramble away from the cart accident. What exactly was happening near that fatal crash remained to be seen, since it was presently blocked from view by the crowd. This said, the frantic shouts of "Get back! Get back!" suggested that it was probably nothing good.
[break][break]
[attr="class","stafftempsubtext"]
thread-specific rules
potential for severe injury. not death enabled, no particular warnings as of yet. [break][break] due to the off-schedule return of this thread and it being finals for some people, you have 10 days to reply in reaction to this post. two missing rounds will result in an elimination from the thread. [break][break] laurent borchardtDesmond Greyeira vadénlynnelia arnett @emery august carterHazel Halcyon
OF ALL OF YOU THAT BELIEVE THAT YOU'RE RIGHT, AND YOU'RE RIGHT, BUT ARE YOU RIGHT?
[attr="class","frniknaktop5"]
THE JUDGEMENT MAN HOLDS MY FATE. AS I GAZE AROUND THE ROOM, THEIR EYES ARE LIKE KNIVES: COULD DECAPITATE.
[attr="class","frniknakmid"]
As soon as she had gotten the message, Emery Argentia immediately leaves for Downtown Sundial to check on the situation. She discovered she wasn't alone in this mission. Other Helios Knights witches were also being called out to investigate the situation, too. According to the letter she recieved from the courier bird, there seems to be some architectural failure downtown, and they were assigned to secure the safety of the citizens there in any way they can.[break][break]
They arrived and was greeted with a scene; people were panicking and murmuring to each other about a 'voice' that they heard. But whatever it was, Emery didn't know, nor did she care... not yet. Their first mission was to get these people safe from the buildings. For all she knew, these architectural failures can cost the lives of about twenty or even fifty people. So they needed to hurry.[break][break]
One of their leaders were already barking orders at them, telling them where to be stationed at and what to do. Emery was to make sure that all people are safe in exiting the downtown area where the road was currently destroyed (or so Emery saw), but then she wanted to find out more about what this really was about. People said they were hearing distorted voices, but so far Emery heard nothing. Whatever-- it would come around this moment.[break][break]
"Get back! Get back!" A shriek suddenly rings into the ears of the Knights. Emery turns her head to the direction of said voice, her eyes raising. Whose voice could it be? There must be someone trapped somewhere. Well, they might be dumb enough to refuse someone who actually came to save them--[break][break]
"Emery!" One of the commanders call her name, and she turns with an attentive posture. "Check every area and try to figure out where the voice came from. Remember, do not enter the sewers, and do not enter the buildings on the verge of collapsing. Do you understand that?"[break][break]
The woman nods and salutes. "Yes, sir!" She then carefully walks over to the roads and turns her head left and right. The voice should be somewhere in here... if not she would have to go inside the buildings for a brief search for the voice.[break][break]
But somehow, the instructions from the letter and from the commander clouded her mind.[break][break]
Should she...?[break][break]
Taking a deep breath, she turned her head to the group where the Helios Knights are huddled, and, making sure they aren't watching, she entered the first building that was in front of her.[break][break]
If this was the way to find out where the voice was, then she was ready to take the risk.
TL;DR: Emery arrives in time at Downtown Sundial, along with other Helios Knights witches; she tries to maintain peace in the downtown, but with that voice roaming around, it would seem quite impossible.[break] EMERY WHY
