[ Awakening to this dead world was bad enough. Now he must walk through it. He has ventured down into the city-scape of Springstar to see what can be seen or found and it is all hollow and dead. There is a sick, twisted feeling in his stomach. A sense of hollowness and loss for a place that, whether truly home or not, has been where he's spent much of his time over the last many months. Familiar streets and buildings hollowed out and empty. Windows gaping. The dark stillness that beckons from alleyways or looms beyond crumbled doors. It is unsettling. And above them, the sickly, dead sun.
The fountains are dry. All is gray and silent. The only sound is the wind - if there is any - or the softer sound of footsteps that are swallowed up by the great mass of buildings. As if he was never there at all. It makes his skin crawl, even as he tries to press on through the discomfort that roils and bubbles inside of him. He can be found at the old barracks, to start, rummaging through the place. Although the feeling of being watched makes him want to bolt, he holds his ground - at least until there's another sound, the presence of another life - it can only be another shardbearer - and that's when he glances up. ]
...you are real, aren't you? [ He seems in earnest about that.
He hasn't experienced the whispers of the vengeful dead or his own ghosts in a time... but the memory lurks and here they seem closer than they have in a long, long time. ]
II. The Ritual
[ THis chamber underneath the tree is a terrible, awful place. He knows it. He hates it. Detests. But they are here, they must be, and he can feel the blood (sap) crawling in his veins as they try to make it work. He doesn't know when the last time he slept was. There's no day, no night. Just the staring effigy and the huddled shardbearers. Time drags on and on and there are snatches of thoughts and emotions that could be his own or could be something pressed on him from communion. He doesn't know. It's hard to tell.
But he does have those thoughts crawling into his head. Those flickering, ghosting memories of death and blood, of fire and war. And now, those whispers are back. The voices of the dead, telling him to find vengeance. That he failed. That he shouldn't even try to restore what was lost, because it is pointless. Anyone near him or tapping into his communion will sense the sorrow there - the burning rage that boils underneath the surface and the desire to hurt someone - something. He tries to keep it in check, even as his own doubts and anger continue to fester. ]
It's all gone.
[ The words are spoken aloud from where he's curled against one wall of the chamber, his good eye looking almost glazed over as he tries to peer out into the rest of the room. ]
Everything is gone. What's the point of this? Why bring us to this dead and dying place? Why?
[ He chokes back the words and takes a deep shuddering breath as if he's trying to get a grip. It's harder than it has been in a long, long time. ]
I can't...
[ Another full-body shudder. ]
III. The Purge
[ His blood stirs again, despite his weakness. He knows what he has to do. It is crystal clear in his own mind. He has to find a way back, even now. Even at the end of all things, he must fight. And if that means someone - some people - must die. The Zenith inside of him needs to be expunged - and to do that he needs to trade. Even if a part of him continues to gnaw at him, continues to think about what it is has happened and what has been done since his arrival here. What it all means. Again, his gaze is a little hollow. Tired. ]
...we need to end this.
[ Whatever "this" means. ]
We have to find a way to win. This isn't the end of all things. I know it-
[ Zenith or Meridian, he does need a bit of help. ]
Give me what I need. Please.
[ Although he sounds more than a little on edge. ]
IV. Reach Heaven Through Violence
[ Time winds on. And Dimitri - Dimitri has had some encounters, some wisdom forced into his head. There's only one way this is going to end - with a victory or an ignoble defeat. A repudiation of everything he loves and cares about. The destruction of the world he seeks to return to.
So eventually, if he finds a Zenith, Dimitri's first recourse is to violence. By this point, he is half-crazed, with a wild look in his eye and he is utterly, completely prepared to use his bare hands or a rock or whatever else he has to somehow make the enemy - Zenith - submit.
Approach at your own risk. Or if you're Meridian, stop for a chat. He's not gunning for you. ]
V. Wildcard
[ I've plotted some specific stuff - I'll throw up some prompts under here and/or if you want to make something up, feel free! ]
Dimitri Blaiddyd | Advocate | Meridian
[ Awakening to this dead world was bad enough. Now he must walk through it. He has ventured down into the city-scape of Springstar to see what can be seen or found and it is all hollow and dead. There is a sick, twisted feeling in his stomach. A sense of hollowness and loss for a place that, whether truly home or not, has been where he's spent much of his time over the last many months. Familiar streets and buildings hollowed out and empty. Windows gaping. The dark stillness that beckons from alleyways or looms beyond crumbled doors. It is unsettling. And above them, the sickly, dead sun.
The fountains are dry. All is gray and silent. The only sound is the wind - if there is any - or the softer sound of footsteps that are swallowed up by the great mass of buildings. As if he was never there at all. It makes his skin crawl, even as he tries to press on through the discomfort that roils and bubbles inside of him. He can be found at the old barracks, to start, rummaging through the place. Although the feeling of being watched makes him want to bolt, he holds his ground - at least until there's another sound, the presence of another life - it can only be another shardbearer - and that's when he glances up. ]
...you are real, aren't you? [ He seems in earnest about that.
He hasn't experienced the whispers of the vengeful dead or his own ghosts in a time... but the memory lurks and here they seem closer than they have in a long, long time. ]
II. The Ritual
[ THis chamber underneath the tree is a terrible, awful place. He knows it. He hates it. Detests. But they are here, they must be, and he can feel the blood (sap) crawling in his veins as they try to make it work. He doesn't know when the last time he slept was. There's no day, no night. Just the staring effigy and the huddled shardbearers. Time drags on and on and there are snatches of thoughts and emotions that could be his own or could be something pressed on him from communion. He doesn't know. It's hard to tell.
But he does have those thoughts crawling into his head. Those flickering, ghosting memories of death and blood, of fire and war. And now, those whispers are back. The voices of the dead, telling him to find vengeance. That he failed. That he shouldn't even try to restore what was lost, because it is pointless. Anyone near him or tapping into his communion will sense the sorrow there - the burning rage that boils underneath the surface and the desire to hurt someone - something. He tries to keep it in check, even as his own doubts and anger continue to fester. ]
It's all gone.
[ The words are spoken aloud from where he's curled against one wall of the chamber, his good eye looking almost glazed over as he tries to peer out into the rest of the room. ]
Everything is gone. What's the point of this? Why bring us to this dead and dying place? Why?
[ He chokes back the words and takes a deep shuddering breath as if he's trying to get a grip. It's harder than it has been in a long, long time. ]
I can't...
[ Another full-body shudder. ]
III. The Purge
[ His blood stirs again, despite his weakness. He knows what he has to do. It is crystal clear in his own mind. He has to find a way back, even now. Even at the end of all things, he must fight. And if that means someone - some people - must die. The Zenith inside of him needs to be expunged - and to do that he needs to trade. Even if a part of him continues to gnaw at him, continues to think about what it is has happened and what has been done since his arrival here. What it all means. Again, his gaze is a little hollow. Tired. ]
...we need to end this.
[ Whatever "this" means. ]
We have to find a way to win. This isn't the end of all things. I know it-
[ Zenith or Meridian, he does need a bit of help. ]
Give me what I need. Please.
[ Although he sounds more than a little on edge. ]
IV. Reach Heaven Through Violence
[ Time winds on. And Dimitri - Dimitri has had some encounters, some wisdom forced into his head. There's only one way this is going to end - with a victory or an ignoble defeat. A repudiation of everything he loves and cares about. The destruction of the world he seeks to return to.
So eventually, if he finds a Zenith, Dimitri's first recourse is to violence. By this point, he is half-crazed, with a wild look in his eye and he is utterly, completely prepared to use his bare hands or a rock or whatever else he has to somehow make the enemy - Zenith - submit.
Approach at your own risk. Or if you're Meridian, stop for a chat. He's not gunning for you. ]
V. Wildcard
[ I've plotted some specific stuff - I'll throw up some prompts under here and/or if you want to make something up, feel free! ]