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Entry tags:
- !event,
- arcane: silco,
- arknights: gavial,
- black butler: sebastian michaelis,
- culture (the): demeisen,
- enderal: jade the prophetess,
- ennead: set,
- expanse (the): amos burton,
- fate/: flat escardos,
- fate/: quetzalcoatl,
- fate/: rin tohsaka,
- fate/: sakamoto ryouma,
- final fantasy xiv: cid garlond,
- fire emblem: claude von riegan,
- fire emblem: dimitri a. blaiddyd,
- fire emblem: shez,
- fire emblem: yuri leclerc,
- granblue fantasy: eustace,
- legend of zelda (the): link,
- life is strange: chloe price,
- marvel: nebula,
- oc: liem talbott,
- oc: matt jamison,
- persona: goro akechi,
- pumpkin scissors: alice l. malvin,
- suikoden: yuber,
- tsubasa reservoir chronicle: subaru,
- vampire hunter d: d
THE SOOT OF IGNORANCE: RISING ACTION
BETWEEN UNCONTROLLED ESCALATION & UNENDING PASSIVITY
The moonlit city of Highstorm has always been a tranquil location.
Its people, passionate about the steady leadership of Zenith's leader — Lady Yima — begin their movements slowly and deliberately. Following the lead of their most trusted Shard-Bearers and the word of their Lady, activity in Highstorm begins to increase in the vicinity of Yima's Manor. The Court, the town square outside of it, becomes a hotbed of bustle and voices. Personnel and attendants rush around with documentation, stirring others to action. A select few figures gather the full force of their long-standing houses, calling on family bonds and their own castellans to assist the efforts that build over the course of a few days.
For the tranquility of Highstorm is only ever punctuated by its decisiveness, its faith that their path is the correct one — and now, they will prove it.
In a trickle-down effort, from the most loyal Zenites to the newest, the news unfolds for them: Amos Burton has been tasked by Lady Yima herself to turn the tides back in Zenith's favor. He is to end the life of the 34th Tribune, Cyrus Marcius Germanus Kokkinos, alongside the fortune who have found their way into Zenith's graces. In the earliest hours of the invasion, the figure of Yima herself steps out onto the balcony of her quarters — the highest point of the Manor — with her robes soft around her body and hands extended to her people. Her silence is punctuated by glowing feelings of pride that flow through the hearts and minds of every last sworn Zenite, bolstering their resolve and encouraging them with the cool, ever-flowing might of the people who look to Zenith's Shard-Bearers for their victory.
She sees them off with unspoken sentiments of love, confidence in them — the whispered promises that she knows they are ready to see the war through. And perhaps none of them will know that it is the last time they see her.
For in the sun-dappled sprawl of Springstar, their target awaits them.
The bustle of the city has always been without reservation; the bright and airy attitudes of militant citizenry look on with confidence and celebratory warmth as their Shard-Bearers have brought them to a marginal advancement over their enemies. While Tribune Cyrus's popularity has waned, there are alternative avenues they have begun to explore — the figure of Agapitos Voreen has become deeply popular, with savvy statements, an easy confidence and a willingness to deny Zenith any room to breathe, he is a shoe-in for future Tribune, whenever the next elections are held.
Which is why, in between one moment and the next, the city is rocked by the efforts of their opposition. Zenite-aligned Shard-Bearers and the small house armies of Yima's most loyal core families fill the streets with chaotic distractions, ranging from duels with the Helios Legionnaire to direct attacks on civilians. ( Where does your character draw the line, if they care to? Will it matter in the long run, do they believe? ) Appearing from several Cornerstones hidden within the city's confines from missions long past, tracking the movements of Legionnaires and Shard-Bearers alike from the placement of listening gems and tracking spells, even rising from the bowels of Kowloon to trap the city in a pincer movement — Highstorm goes on the offensive.
Springstar puts up a valiant resistance in return; however, within twenty-four hours, Zenite Shard-Bearers will have hunted down, cornered and slain the Tribune. In that moment, Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers will feel a splitting pain: the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Zenith's swell. The last trickle of emotion from Cyrus for them is a gentle warmth, fondness and forgiveness and the purity of his confidence in them. He believes in them, he always has, and he prays and hopes for their victory even though he will not be around to see it become reality, now.
His death is announced the following day by his assistant Cetina, the deer-morph girl choking back angry tears as she — with a furious and tearful General Ayo Zaman and the somber, mournful figure of Hieropoios Natalia at her side — lambasts Highstorm for the act of aggression, attempts to rouse the city and Meridian's hope, and pledges that she will not let her best friend's murderers escape her vengeance.
Hours after Cetina's message, in the far corner of Highstorm — following the people's celebrations and rejoicing in their strike, the delight in the might of their Shard-Bearers and the renewed passions of their people in pursuit of their victory — a brilliant, golden beam of sunlight pierces the eternal night of the city.
In an instant, the balcony upon which Yima had stood and the rooms beyond it — in fact, the entirety of the Manor, is engulfed in fire and light. The Manor falls, crumbling in upon itself as debris cascades into the living quarters of Shard-bearers and partially topples into the Court beyond. While the Tree of Life, the Reflecting Pools and many businesses around the Court escape extensive damage, the Manor itself is in shambles. And in the wake, many Zenite Shard-Bearers will feel the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Meridian's swell. In the wake of the strike, there is a deep silence within them.
Any attempts to contact Yima are met with the same silence a Shard-Bearer feels when reaching out to another who has left the world entirely. And with that, both sides are left to pick up the pieces and weigh the consequences of their actions.
Its people, passionate about the steady leadership of Zenith's leader — Lady Yima — begin their movements slowly and deliberately. Following the lead of their most trusted Shard-Bearers and the word of their Lady, activity in Highstorm begins to increase in the vicinity of Yima's Manor. The Court, the town square outside of it, becomes a hotbed of bustle and voices. Personnel and attendants rush around with documentation, stirring others to action. A select few figures gather the full force of their long-standing houses, calling on family bonds and their own castellans to assist the efforts that build over the course of a few days.
For the tranquility of Highstorm is only ever punctuated by its decisiveness, its faith that their path is the correct one — and now, they will prove it.
In a trickle-down effort, from the most loyal Zenites to the newest, the news unfolds for them: Amos Burton has been tasked by Lady Yima herself to turn the tides back in Zenith's favor. He is to end the life of the 34th Tribune, Cyrus Marcius Germanus Kokkinos, alongside the fortune who have found their way into Zenith's graces. In the earliest hours of the invasion, the figure of Yima herself steps out onto the balcony of her quarters — the highest point of the Manor — with her robes soft around her body and hands extended to her people. Her silence is punctuated by glowing feelings of pride that flow through the hearts and minds of every last sworn Zenite, bolstering their resolve and encouraging them with the cool, ever-flowing might of the people who look to Zenith's Shard-Bearers for their victory.
She sees them off with unspoken sentiments of love, confidence in them — the whispered promises that she knows they are ready to see the war through. And perhaps none of them will know that it is the last time they see her.
For in the sun-dappled sprawl of Springstar, their target awaits them.
The bustle of the city has always been without reservation; the bright and airy attitudes of militant citizenry look on with confidence and celebratory warmth as their Shard-Bearers have brought them to a marginal advancement over their enemies. While Tribune Cyrus's popularity has waned, there are alternative avenues they have begun to explore — the figure of Agapitos Voreen has become deeply popular, with savvy statements, an easy confidence and a willingness to deny Zenith any room to breathe, he is a shoe-in for future Tribune, whenever the next elections are held.
Which is why, in between one moment and the next, the city is rocked by the efforts of their opposition. Zenite-aligned Shard-Bearers and the small house armies of Yima's most loyal core families fill the streets with chaotic distractions, ranging from duels with the Helios Legionnaire to direct attacks on civilians. ( Where does your character draw the line, if they care to? Will it matter in the long run, do they believe? ) Appearing from several Cornerstones hidden within the city's confines from missions long past, tracking the movements of Legionnaires and Shard-Bearers alike from the placement of listening gems and tracking spells, even rising from the bowels of Kowloon to trap the city in a pincer movement — Highstorm goes on the offensive.
Springstar puts up a valiant resistance in return; however, within twenty-four hours, Zenite Shard-Bearers will have hunted down, cornered and slain the Tribune. In that moment, Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers will feel a splitting pain: the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Zenith's swell. The last trickle of emotion from Cyrus for them is a gentle warmth, fondness and forgiveness and the purity of his confidence in them. He believes in them, he always has, and he prays and hopes for their victory even though he will not be around to see it become reality, now.
His death is announced the following day by his assistant Cetina, the deer-morph girl choking back angry tears as she — with a furious and tearful General Ayo Zaman and the somber, mournful figure of Hieropoios Natalia at her side — lambasts Highstorm for the act of aggression, attempts to rouse the city and Meridian's hope, and pledges that she will not let her best friend's murderers escape her vengeance.
Hours after Cetina's message, in the far corner of Highstorm — following the people's celebrations and rejoicing in their strike, the delight in the might of their Shard-Bearers and the renewed passions of their people in pursuit of their victory — a brilliant, golden beam of sunlight pierces the eternal night of the city.
In an instant, the balcony upon which Yima had stood and the rooms beyond it — in fact, the entirety of the Manor, is engulfed in fire and light. The Manor falls, crumbling in upon itself as debris cascades into the living quarters of Shard-bearers and partially topples into the Court beyond. While the Tree of Life, the Reflecting Pools and many businesses around the Court escape extensive damage, the Manor itself is in shambles. And in the wake, many Zenite Shard-Bearers will feel the suddenness of having an integral element of their power ripped from them, the sensation akin to being crushed, gasping under the weight of Meridian's swell. In the wake of the strike, there is a deep silence within them.
Any attempts to contact Yima are met with the same silence a Shard-Bearer feels when reaching out to another who has left the world entirely. And with that, both sides are left to pick up the pieces and weigh the consequences of their actions.
ADDITIONAL MATTERS
During ( and in the wake of both assaults ), there is plenty for any Unharmonized Shard-Bearers and more moderate Meris/Zenites to partake in. Damage has been wrought to both cities at differing times, and there is a degree of life lost no matter the best efforts of those who value innocents over the price enacted by acts of war.
In Springstar, the citizenry has been ravaged by attacks stemming from the depths of Kowloon: as monsters in the form of both individuals with unusual appetites (cannibals and vampires, for example) and heavily-drugged, superpowered addicts have been finding their way into the city, slaughtering civilians indiscreetly, picking fights with the Legionary, and engaging in general criminal mischief and violence. Following Zenith's assault and subsequent assassination, the city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Zenith-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Zenith! ). After the day of the attack, the attacks drop off significantly, but do not vanish entirely, for now that some have gotten a taste, it will take time for Yura to reign them in once more.
The people of the city turn to their Shard-Bearers in the wake of their Tribune's murder; even though his popularity had waned, it isn't as though his death doesn't affect them! Deeply concerned and frightened for their future, they demand information about what will be done to protect the city from another assault like this? Some civilians will turn to the church, or perhaps community leaders, but it seems very few turn to the legionary, after they were so focused on the attacks that they missed the forest for the trees. Their trust in their military leaders is waning, and they’re looking for answer. Some community leaders have tried to soften the hurt and anger of Springstar’s people, but they look toward those whom were not a part of the current establishment to answers.
In Highstorm, Yima's Manor lays in shambles, but the rest of the city is unharmed. Shard-Bearers who were living in the Manor will find that their living quarters suffered from the collapse and subsequent fires, but any precious items/belongings they had in their rooms can be recovered after sifting through the rubble. One of Yima’s most trusted, Florence, seems to be taking the reigns of control, and while there are still pockets of the manor that remain on the outskirts of the building itself, she encourages any Zenites who had not moved out to move on quickly, since what is left should be used by any newcomers who need shelter, and not those whom have had the opportunity to make bonds, and have allies that they can rely on.
The main issue now plaguing Zenites is the sudden, overwhelming crowd that begins to gather in the Court, demanding information from them about Yima's safety — they are frantic, and rightfully concerned about further assaults of that incendiary degree from Meridian. The city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Meridian! ). The Manor itself is almost entirely destroyed, with only a shell of the outskirts left, and though those who are left are already trying to sift through the rubble, they are often overcome by their sorrow, and it is not uncommon in the wake of Meridian’s destruction to find some of Yima’s most loyal in distress, for the loss of their leader.
In Springstar, the citizenry has been ravaged by attacks stemming from the depths of Kowloon: as monsters in the form of both individuals with unusual appetites (cannibals and vampires, for example) and heavily-drugged, superpowered addicts have been finding their way into the city, slaughtering civilians indiscreetly, picking fights with the Legionary, and engaging in general criminal mischief and violence. Following Zenith's assault and subsequent assassination, the city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Zenith-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Zenith! ). After the day of the attack, the attacks drop off significantly, but do not vanish entirely, for now that some have gotten a taste, it will take time for Yura to reign them in once more.
The people of the city turn to their Shard-Bearers in the wake of their Tribune's murder; even though his popularity had waned, it isn't as though his death doesn't affect them! Deeply concerned and frightened for their future, they demand information about what will be done to protect the city from another assault like this? Some civilians will turn to the church, or perhaps community leaders, but it seems very few turn to the legionary, after they were so focused on the attacks that they missed the forest for the trees. Their trust in their military leaders is waning, and they’re looking for answer. Some community leaders have tried to soften the hurt and anger of Springstar’s people, but they look toward those whom were not a part of the current establishment to answers.
In Highstorm, Yima's Manor lays in shambles, but the rest of the city is unharmed. Shard-Bearers who were living in the Manor will find that their living quarters suffered from the collapse and subsequent fires, but any precious items/belongings they had in their rooms can be recovered after sifting through the rubble. One of Yima’s most trusted, Florence, seems to be taking the reigns of control, and while there are still pockets of the manor that remain on the outskirts of the building itself, she encourages any Zenites who had not moved out to move on quickly, since what is left should be used by any newcomers who need shelter, and not those whom have had the opportunity to make bonds, and have allies that they can rely on.
The main issue now plaguing Zenites is the sudden, overwhelming crowd that begins to gather in the Court, demanding information from them about Yima's safety — they are frantic, and rightfully concerned about further assaults of that incendiary degree from Meridian. The city will be on high alert and be deeply hostile toward Meridian-aligned Shard-Bearers, as well as mistrustful towards any Unharmonized ( for good reason: they might still Harmonize with Meridian! ). The Manor itself is almost entirely destroyed, with only a shell of the outskirts left, and though those who are left are already trying to sift through the rubble, they are often overcome by their sorrow, and it is not uncommon in the wake of Meridian’s destruction to find some of Yima’s most loyal in distress, for the loss of their leader.
A LIGHTHOUSE AGAINST THE ENCROACHING STORM
A few months ago, all current Shard-Bearers experienced a mass dreaming event, full of teeming darkness and a pervasive sense of terror. Following the death of Cyrus and the "presumed loss" of Yima, all Shard-Bearers will receive yet another dream.
This one is a simple, direct thing: rife with a haunting sense of being watched, observed as if from the reeds and brush by a hunter. Whatever your power level, however skilled you are and confident you are in your place, your decisions, your heart will quake before the severe impression of something prowling at your heels. Just out of sight, but never out of mind. Every Shard-Bearer's shard will wrench free of their body upon waking, falling from their physical form as if to flee this sensation of something waiting, patient, for the right moment to pounce.
Echoing in the back of their mind, a wordless, shapeless promise lingers: Forward, or back. Back, or forward. Dart and weave, flit and flutter, scamper and scurry. We are here, now. In the back of every mind, what was in the process of coming before is — it is here, now. Looming right above, waiting for the outcome, watching for which way the last lives at the end of existence will flee.
Upon awakening from the mass dream-become-nightmare, Shard-bearers will slowly become aware of the exacerbation of previous events that have been persisting since October. These events are no longer subtle, and will impact everyone regardless of faction allegiance, with purposefully targeted strikes:
This one is a simple, direct thing: rife with a haunting sense of being watched, observed as if from the reeds and brush by a hunter. Whatever your power level, however skilled you are and confident you are in your place, your decisions, your heart will quake before the severe impression of something prowling at your heels. Just out of sight, but never out of mind. Every Shard-Bearer's shard will wrench free of their body upon waking, falling from their physical form as if to flee this sensation of something waiting, patient, for the right moment to pounce.
Echoing in the back of their mind, a wordless, shapeless promise lingers: Forward, or back. Back, or forward. Dart and weave, flit and flutter, scamper and scurry. We are here, now. In the back of every mind, what was in the process of coming before is — it is here, now. Looming right above, waiting for the outcome, watching for which way the last lives at the end of existence will flee.
Upon awakening from the mass dream-become-nightmare, Shard-bearers will slowly become aware of the exacerbation of previous events that have been persisting since October. These events are no longer subtle, and will impact everyone regardless of faction allegiance, with purposefully targeted strikes:
— Darkness has spread within Springstar. Wherever there is shadow cast by person, object or building, it has deepened, darkened, and grown in size. Walking through any shadowed area or touching a darkened shadow will fill a Shard-bearer who enters that area with feelings of dread, of something lingering just out of sight, of danger prickling along their spine, and entice them to run and flee. If they are not quick enough, an unseen entity savages them — aiming directly for wherever their Shard is hidden and held. They are being hunted.
— Light has spread within Highstorm. Starlight and moonlight seem to sear what they touch, leaving patches of bleached-white scars upon person, object or building. Being touched by the light or coming into contact with a white-scarred entity will fill a Shard-bearer with feelings of malaise, like they should simply lay down and accept what comes next. Suffocating hands waiting to pin them down. Even in the safety of the shadows, the scourging glow of any light reaches for them and rakes across their bodies, seeking the place where their Shard is hidden or held. Ravaging them with hot-and-cold burns. They are being sacrificed.
— Shard-bearers readily become lost in familiar places, as if their homes and bastions of safety and security have become strange ( estranged? ) from their minds. The route to that favorite haunt ( perhaps even their own place of business ) eludes them, and searching for it alone becomes an impossibility. It takes another Shard-bearer, at times, to aid them in breaking free of the mild befuddlement. You're just tired. It's just the strain getting to you.
— Citizens of both Springstar and Highstorm continue to speak about neighbors who have 'suddenly moved away', or the disappearance of a favored shop or cafe. Some mention favorite, useful landmarks vanishing, causing them to forget where they are coming from, or where they are going. When directly asked about this circumstance, they shrug and declare that it happens all the time these days. In fact, there's nothing to really be done about it. And if pressed, the citizenry's eyes go glassy and expressions become confused as they ask who, what, where, and why their Shard-Bearer has begun asking them such strange questions. None seem bothered by this strange occurrence, as if all is well and normal.
— Shard-bearers will begin to see familiar faces in crowds, standing on street corners, peering through their private windows, waving them down at their familiar haunts. People from their own worlds, loved and hated alike rush for them — adoring and hostile alike. Family members and friends who seem to attempt to meet their eyes before the crowd swallows them up; loved ones who should be captured in Shards try to flag them down, calling their names and asking them where have you been? what's going on?; enemies and abusers seem to advance upon them, pushing their way forth hungrily. And then they are gone, but not before leaving behind the impression, the strange sensation that, they are real. Really there. If only for a moment.
OOC & (IMMEDIATE) WORLD CHANGES
The full document for this event can be found here!
So, what does the world look like now that this has all gone down?
The world of Kenos ripples from the effects of our players!
Springstar is (mostly) physically unharmed, though the population has been reduced thanks to the number of murders and criminal mischief that has taken place during the attack. Damage seems constrained to things like broken doors and windows, looted property, and murdered civilians, though the severity is up to how many defend Springstar from the concentrated might of Ryad’s regulars, and a practical army of addicts rising from the depths below the city.
The leadership of Springstar is also shaken, though there are procedures in place for this – if one is particularly studious, they will recall that this is not the first Tribune that has been assassinated, though it is the first in a long while – and the Church and the Legionary have stepped in to maintain the peace while elections begin to be arranged.
Cyrus’s body is interred publically at the Church in Heliopolis for a week after his passing, before his body is immolated during a service, his soul returned to the Tree of Life. Those who attend will feel the light of Meridian fill them, and their Discord may be reduced by one level thanks to the warm hope that fills them, even as they despair at the loss of their leadership. Meridian calls to its most loyal, and asks them to do what they do best, show hope and unending resolve, when things look to be their most hopeless.
Highstorm is another story. The destruction wrought is more property, but the number of people who were within the manor is difficult to count until a week or two after the destruction has been evaluated, and cleanup has begun. The loss of life is not devastating compared to what was leveled upon Springstar, but perhaps the most distressing is that Yima is not present. Florence reassures those in Highstorm with her calming, but firm presence.
With few of Yima’s softer adorations to be found, Florence instead pushes the faithful to muster their will and begin the recovery efforts. After all, they have long proven to have faith in Yima’s guidance, and they should believe in it now when it is difficult. It is not the first time their fortitude has been tested, after all.
Her words fill those in Zenith with a sense of calm resolve, and they may feel their distress and discord from this destruction alleviating slightly. Highstorm’s government works smoothly without Yima, and those who are interested in history will be able to see Florence’s name throughout the annals, as one that would guide Yima’s faithful when the matron was in convalescence, or respite. What Zenith does best, after all, is build something new when faced with destruction. Consider this a primer for your new world, to help bring the faithful back from the brink of their despair.
The unharmonized have a choice, as they so often do. This time, however, the stakes appear even higher than before. The cities are not as welcoming as they once were, and those that have not chosen are beseeched by the civilians of both Highstorm and Springstar. ‘Do you not understand what they’ve taken from us, and what they will in days to come? You cannot let this continue, standing on the sidelines. Imagine the ways in which you could help us,’ they beg, and it feels as though your neutrality will become increasingly inconvenient, as time goes on.
What can we expect next?
As the month of Pelu ( aka March ) dawns, you will begin to feel it. Something tugs at you.
Those who have lived through more than one will feel that anticipatory anxiety rise, as the next oracle is coming. Are you ready to fight to claim it, even when it feels so dark, and even when everything feels different, and harder? Do you look to the stars, and dream of your home? Or do you gaze outward, into nothing, and dream of what you will make from the ashes?
Anticipate the oracle in the coming month of Pelu, and to learn more about those that will step into the voids left by Cyrus and Yima.
And as always!
Questions can be directed here!
Individuals less-inclined to busy themselves with either effort, or looking for a way to gain a foothold/explore the world can report here for exploration attempts. We recommend examining the Kenos Wiki's Locations for ideas, if you don't know where to start. Or! Ask someone in the Discord Server for a recommendation, we have long-time players eager to help.
Lastly, remember that Cyrus and Yima will be a little occupied this time around, but anyone who might ICly have reason to contact them regarding the brewing troubles can do so here!
So, what does the world look like now that this has all gone down?
The world of Kenos ripples from the effects of our players!
Springstar is (mostly) physically unharmed, though the population has been reduced thanks to the number of murders and criminal mischief that has taken place during the attack. Damage seems constrained to things like broken doors and windows, looted property, and murdered civilians, though the severity is up to how many defend Springstar from the concentrated might of Ryad’s regulars, and a practical army of addicts rising from the depths below the city.
The leadership of Springstar is also shaken, though there are procedures in place for this – if one is particularly studious, they will recall that this is not the first Tribune that has been assassinated, though it is the first in a long while – and the Church and the Legionary have stepped in to maintain the peace while elections begin to be arranged.
Cyrus’s body is interred publically at the Church in Heliopolis for a week after his passing, before his body is immolated during a service, his soul returned to the Tree of Life. Those who attend will feel the light of Meridian fill them, and their Discord may be reduced by one level thanks to the warm hope that fills them, even as they despair at the loss of their leadership. Meridian calls to its most loyal, and asks them to do what they do best, show hope and unending resolve, when things look to be their most hopeless.
Highstorm is another story. The destruction wrought is more property, but the number of people who were within the manor is difficult to count until a week or two after the destruction has been evaluated, and cleanup has begun. The loss of life is not devastating compared to what was leveled upon Springstar, but perhaps the most distressing is that Yima is not present. Florence reassures those in Highstorm with her calming, but firm presence.
With few of Yima’s softer adorations to be found, Florence instead pushes the faithful to muster their will and begin the recovery efforts. After all, they have long proven to have faith in Yima’s guidance, and they should believe in it now when it is difficult. It is not the first time their fortitude has been tested, after all.
Her words fill those in Zenith with a sense of calm resolve, and they may feel their distress and discord from this destruction alleviating slightly. Highstorm’s government works smoothly without Yima, and those who are interested in history will be able to see Florence’s name throughout the annals, as one that would guide Yima’s faithful when the matron was in convalescence, or respite. What Zenith does best, after all, is build something new when faced with destruction. Consider this a primer for your new world, to help bring the faithful back from the brink of their despair.
The unharmonized have a choice, as they so often do. This time, however, the stakes appear even higher than before. The cities are not as welcoming as they once were, and those that have not chosen are beseeched by the civilians of both Highstorm and Springstar. ‘Do you not understand what they’ve taken from us, and what they will in days to come? You cannot let this continue, standing on the sidelines. Imagine the ways in which you could help us,’ they beg, and it feels as though your neutrality will become increasingly inconvenient, as time goes on.
What can we expect next?
As the month of Pelu ( aka March ) dawns, you will begin to feel it. Something tugs at you.
Those who have lived through more than one will feel that anticipatory anxiety rise, as the next oracle is coming. Are you ready to fight to claim it, even when it feels so dark, and even when everything feels different, and harder? Do you look to the stars, and dream of your home? Or do you gaze outward, into nothing, and dream of what you will make from the ashes?
Anticipate the oracle in the coming month of Pelu, and to learn more about those that will step into the voids left by Cyrus and Yima.
And as always!
Questions can be directed here!
Individuals less-inclined to busy themselves with either effort, or looking for a way to gain a foothold/explore the world can report here for exploration attempts. We recommend examining the Kenos Wiki's Locations for ideas, if you don't know where to start. Or! Ask someone in the Discord Server for a recommendation, we have long-time players eager to help.
Lastly, remember that Cyrus and Yima will be a little occupied this time around, but anyone who might ICly have reason to contact them regarding the brewing troubles can do so here!
no subject
Painfully, that glaive wrenches out of Gen’s hand as it flies towards its owner. With how it turns, it slices a gouge into Gen’s chest as it goes, but it’s at least not faster than the bear. The bear crashes down on him and Cyrus crumbles while the Arcane Hand pulls him. He protects his head with one hand as best he can, but yells out in pain as the bear swipes into his side. It’s deep, and he knows that he’ll need healing for it, and fast.
The glaive at least comes to his hand, so before the bear can make another strike, he twists it with a grunt and shoves it up as hard as he can. It pierces into the bear’s chest, and the magic of it disappears not long after… But Cyrus is left panting and winded. The Hand still holds him down, and though he strains against it, it just causes agony in his side that makes him stick back to the ground.
…Is this it?
He has the thought, but it’s only that. He keeps the glaive held tight in his hand, since he’s at least determined to go down fighting. ]
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Gen doesn't even really get a chance to react. All he sees is the flash of light reflecting off metal, then there's the whistling noise of steel slicing through the air, followed by a searing pain that burns through his chest. It's not a particularly deep cut that the glaive's ripped through him, but it's deep enough -- blood spills onto the pavement in lurid gouts as he reflexively doubles over with a gasp, one hand scrabbling to press against the wound where it feels like a white-hot flame's searing at it from the inside.
His gaze burns vicious with rage when he looks up from that injury to Cyrus, all rational thought crowded out for the moment. So much for just hanging back and supporting Amos. First the direct blow of Meridian against Amos, and now this. Gen's never been the type to tolerate aggravation well; he certainly can't stomach this without retaliating.
It's silent when he abruptly sinks into the earth like the ground's turned to water beneath him; there's no visual indication of where he's gone. But a split second later, Cyrus might feel the sensation of another hand -- this one corporeal -- grabbing at his wrist and yanking down. Gen might be unable to fully submerge other people into the ground, but he can certainly go part-way, and Cyrus will find his arm suddenly sunk into the ground halfway up to his shoulder. The earth and pavement encases perfectly around muscle, like it was poured around him; he won't be able to move that limb without destroying the ground itself, and shake off the claw-handed grip that continues to dig into his wrist.
Maybe this is risky, getting so up-close. But Gen has to gamble that the shield of the ground between him and Cyrus will be enough. Either way, it'll be worth it to give Amos the chance to get in a fatal blow. ]
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Maybe squeeze his Hand a little tighter while he's at it.
But before he has the chance to do much of anything else — to reach out to Gen's wound to patch it up, let alone even ask him if he's okay — he's gone, leaving a fierce rage in his wake that Amos can't help but inhale. There's a blip of surprise on his end as Cyrus suddenly sinks partway into the ground as well, Amos having to twist his hand a little to maintain the hold he has on him — but the goal is to get it done quick. Gen is helping with that, and so there's a sense of approval, too.
One that comes before he goes charging in, looking to capitalize on the rush of the moment. Within a couple of paces Amos dispels his Hand, using his dominant one to reach for the poison-coated dagger at his side, draw it out, aim for anywhere lethal and exposed on Cyrus in one fluid motion. All he needs to do is get it into his bloodstream, and it'll do the rest — but he has no problems with inflicting a traditionally violent death on Cyrus, either.
It leaves him vulnerable for a moment, but that's just the price he has to pay to ensure accuracy. Besides — he has full confidence that if anything happens to him, Gen will ensure he makes it back. ]
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Cyrus looks down to the ground and gives a yank that doesn’t budge, but as Amos advances with a dagger in hand, all the adrenaline he feels just slips to understanding. He wouldn’t call it a sense of purpose, exactly. It’s just acceptance. So, he turns the glaive like he’d be trying to use it as a lever to pull himself out of the ground with the extra force, but that’s not his intention. He has a dagger, so as long as Amos feels secure enough to come in close, it’ll work. He sends a Communion, but it’s brief. It’s quiet, meant only for one person.
I’m sorry, Cetina.
And Amos comes in and has no problem sinking the dagger deep into his ribs. Cyrus grunts in pain, grits his teeth, but drops the glaive. The momentum gets him to half-fall into Amos instead, but he’s careful to make sure all his fingertips make contact with Amos’s skin. ]
You won’t find happiness there. Just remember that.
[ It’s all he says before it’s truly like lightning courses through Amos. There’s no other way to describe it. All the Meridian that had been shooting at him is channeled directly through Cyrus’s fingers instead, and right away, it burns through both of them. It courses through Amos’s veins as if it’s hungrily seeking something out, and indeed, all of that Meridian wraps around his Shard. Squeezes, so hard that it feels like it might crack, like the lightning has made it to his brain and seared it blank. He could be shattered, like this.
—If not for that protective shift of darkness that enshrouds him. A less determined soul would break from the pressure. But Amos has been embraced by Zenith—by Yima. Perhaps even the sharpest Meridian could no longer crack him. Or perhaps Yima herself had intervened. It’s impossible to tell, but would it matter to him?
But for his part… That’s all the Meridian that Cyrus had to spare. He doesn’t even know if it worked, actually, because his lashes flutter, his hand slips from Amos, and he falls. He’s still alive, just unconscious… But with his wounds and that dagger in his side, it won’t take long for him to bleed out or for the poison to take its course. It only depends on which is faster. ]
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The brilliant light of Meridian lances through the air, spilling out from the contact point between the two men above as it overflows beyond what their bodies can tolerate. Underground, Gen reflexively recoils with an unheard snarl, his grip on Cyrus' forearm releasing as he automatically tries to shield himself from that blinding light, his instincts screaming at him to stay away from it. Too bad that release comes a little too late to be useful to Cyrus.
Even after that crackling light subsides, it takes a long moment for Gen to process the sound of two bodies falling to the ground. ]
-- Amos!
[ The throbbing of the wound across his chest is completely forgotten as Gen scrambles to haul himself out of the earth -- in his alarm, briefly forgetting that he'd been positioned directly below where Cyrus now lays slumped. His body is still warm, as is the blood pumping from that stab wound; Gen can feel his stomach twisting with nausea as he hastily shoves that weight off of himself, his gaze automatically drawn to the gleam of metal protruding from his body. (A knifeblade comes to mind. Too much blood splashed across pale tiles. The wheezing breaths of a man dying. -- funny, how in this moment, the sight before him feels scarier than that thunderstorm of Meridian.) ]
Ah ... [ It's a quiet, choked noise that escapes him. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he's too aware of the fact that Amos was hurt, Amos needs attention, Amos might be dying. But even so, it takes him every ounce of willpower he has just to tear his gaze away from the sight of Cyrus' dying body. He isn't even aware of it when he rasps, soft and almost child-like for once: ] ... I'm sorry.
[ Then he's scrambling across the pavement. Pushing back the panic, the fear, the alarm, the pain, the -- everything, every useless, weak, pathetic emotion. All of it gets beaten down for the moment, because right now, all it matters is making sure Amos is okay. ]
-- Amos. [ His hands grab at Amos' shoulders to shake him once, roughly, before recoiling as he tries to recall what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. Not touch the injured person? Should he call someone? Gavial? ] Amos. -- can ... you hear me?
[ Is Amos even alive? ]
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The drop of Meridian that had hit him before his shield automatically activated was bad, but Amos couldn't say if this was worse — mostly because he isn't in a position to say much of anything. Fire and electricity and light course through his veins, and in the split second before he loses consciousness, he thinks: I'm going to die. Not like he has before, but like his very soul is going to explode — he'd underestimated how bad the retaliation could be, and then everything shuts down.
And when Amos comes to moments later, everything is black. He feels like he's floating — floating, and burning, his heart chest arm neck on fire? And he just wants to... stay in the dark. Let it soothe him, heal his wounds, welcome him home—
His body is shaking. Somebody is talking to him. He has no choice but to open his eyes, staring up at Gen. Above him, a too-bright sky.
Amos groans, bringing an arm up to try to shield his eyes before hissing in pain— Enough of his shirt is ruined to tatters to show the Lichtenberg scarring stretching out and away from his shard, across the untattooed side of his chest, his upper arm, creeping up the right side of his neck. Like something had wrapped itself around his shard to protect it, and expelled the energy to the other side of his body.
Which, he probably can't complain too much, since he'd thought he was about to die. Now it just feels like hellfire.
He lets his arm fall across his stomach. Reaches up with his uninjured one for Gen instead, going for his bleeding wound and missing, that arm falling uselessly back to the ground. ]
'm okay. [ He probably is not, but after a second he searches out Gen's eyes, alertness coming back to him. ] 'm...
[ Something unrecognizable twists in his gut, but Gen might be able to recognize it as sorrow. Tears prick at the corners of Amos' eyes, but he doesn't seem aware of them, instead reaching for Gen's shoulder this time. Succeeding. ]
You're bleeding. [ A beat, as his brain works to finish rebooting. All systems back online, please; surely time is still of the essence. ] ... We should get out of here.
[ He just. Needs to get back on his feet again first. ]
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Though -- the sensation comes through muted, Amos might notice. Something about it feels strangely distant, like it's being felt through five layers of thick glass. And when he manages to focus his vision, he might notice that Gen's expression matches that level of odd disconnect.
He looks ... dazed, even as he breathes a hoarse sigh of relief. ]
... okay. [ A hard swallow. His throat feels terribly dry. ] 'kay. I'm glad you're -- [ 'alive.' Though he doesn't want to say it out loud, because that would be paramount to acknowleding the other option out loud. He's not sure how he would have handled it, if Amos didn't survive this encounter. Gen takes a deep breath, which comes strangely easy. And another one, deeper and even easier, when he feels Amos' hand clap against his shoulder. ] ... yeah. We should get out of here.
[ Tellingly, he doesn't acknowledge his own still-bleeding injury even with Amos pointing it out, and even with blood still sluggishly oozing down his chest to pool sticky against the beltline of his pants. It just feels ... irrelevant? Especially since he doesn't have the mental bandwidth to deal with anything extraneous right now. The pain feels distant, and it isn't so severe as to hamper his movements, so. He doesn't need to acknowledge it. It's fine.
Gen instead focuses on bending down to help Amos sit up (gently, more gently than most would think him capable of) and slinging one of Amos' arms over his shoulders. The one less marred with burnmarks. His gaze wanders listlessly from Amos, to the damaged pavement around them, to Cyrus' corpse, then back, like he's having difficulty focusing. (He is.) ]
Gonna stand up. Be careful.
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Amos' mind is clouded with pain and something else, something he can't figure out, so he uses Gen as a focal point — which is a little difficult to do when Gen seems to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. He's on fire. They're in Springstar's light, which is displeasing. Gen is lost — and it's one thing to hear about what he'd had to do a lifetime ago, understand what it means to be decimated so young, and another to actually be experiencing it. And there's something else.
He grunts in acknowledgment at Gen's warning, and slowly, they're back on their feet. ]
Yeah. Yeah, 'm... 'm alright. [ The repetition is probably not helping his case, but. ] You're...
[ Still bleeding. Amos breathes in, deep, like it'll clear his head — and maybe it helps, some. Gen is his focal point, and he is still bleeding. Amos lifts his arm — the uninjured one — to touch Gen's wound, slowly working to close it, but between all of the everything it's difficult to focus. He can't register how good of a job he's doing or what, just... Gen needs to stop bleeding. So they can get out of here, and not just pass out along the way.
He takes another deep breath, and then his gaze falls on Cyrus. He's pretty sure he's dead. He wouldn't be feeling this way if he wasn't, a confusing swirl of emotions and something tugging at him, both awful and enticing, welcoming him homehomehome. ]
I need to get my dagger back. [ Amos takes a step forward, maybe bringing Gen along with him closer to the dead man. The region is still isolated enough from any fighting, and the shock of everything is keeping any potential onlookers still tucked away — for now. But. ] Yima gave it to me. To kill that dryad.
[ And now, Cyrus. And he doesn't want to leave without it. ]
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'Have to get out of here,' he thinks. He focuses on just that, on the one thing, to keep himself moving. It's all his brain can handle.
So when Amos points him towards a distraction, he hesitates. Blinks hard. Then obliges -- lets Amos tug him forward towards Cyrus' body. 'Okay,' he thinks, his own thoughts feeling oddly tinny and distant in his head, like he's hearing them through some shitty old radio. 'Get the dagger back, and then get out of here.'
The body is still when they approach. (-- something about that is weird, Gen thinks. It should trigger a sense of deja vu, but it doesn't. For some reason, he doesn't remember looking at a still body lying across blood-soaked tiles.) His balance wobbles a little when he leans down to yank the dagger out; one last glut of blood spills forth from the wound to join the growing puddle on the pavement. It drips brilliant from the blade, and Gen watches it dot red on the ground.
Maybe Amos can feel the sour sting of bile at the back of his throat. The strange heady sensation that comes with it. An odd dizziness accompanied by his field of vision going static-y and white at the edges. ]
Here.
[ Gen haphazardly holds the dagger out for Amos to take back, but his gaze slides off to the side. Quietly, he says the only thing he can think to say in this situation. ]
Let's go home.
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He lifts his hand to take it, mindful of the blade and oblivious of the way Gen's gaze is elsewhere. He hears him though, and for a second Amos just has to swallow. Will the sensation of bile away. ]
Give me a second.
[ He's equally quiet in turn, both because it feels like he needs to match Gen, and because it feels like the environment calls for it. They need to get out of here sooner rather than later, he knows, the practical part of his mind insistent in the need to call everyone else off, to leave before some Meridian idiot gets brave, but his head is swimming and he needs a second.
Disentangling himself from Gen, Amos moves to kneel in front of Cyrus' body. As if on autopilot he takes the edge of one of the dead man's robes and uses it to clean the blood off of his blade; he'll have to give it a more thorough cleaning later, but right now it makes sense to do this much. Practical, and detached, and his head dips and his eyes nearly flutter shut as his lips start to move and then stop, because he has no idea what he wants to say.
To a corpse.
It doesn't make sense. Amos lets go of the robe, lets its stained edges fall back against its former owner. Sheathes his dagger. Brings a hand up to rest atop Cyrus' shoulder, pressing his forehead to the dead man's, and nothing comes out but a sense of sadness and frustration.
And then he uses his hold on his shoulder to leverage himself back to his feet, turning back to Gen with his face a flat, emotionless mask and too much swirling inside of him for him to even begin to comprehend. ]
Are you okay to get back on your own? [ His voice is still quiet. Soft. ] Pass Without Trace'll work on you too if you need it.
[ If they need to take their time undetected back to the nearest cornerstone. Amos can't tell right now if that'll be the case for either of them. ]
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Gen is still and quiet as he watches Amos disengage and kneel before Cyrus -- before the body; his gaze falls only briefly upon the blade being cleaned before automatically shifting away, because the mere sight of that bloodied blade makes him feel like his stomach's about to twist in half. His eyes end up skipping over Amos' hands instead, then up to his face, to his lips ... to the silent words that he seems to be saying to a body that definitely can't hear them. There's a maelstrom of emotions roiling through his chest, and he's pretty not all of them are his own.
... he feels a bit vindicated by that, he thinks. The sensation comes hazy and distant, fighting for coherency past the static fogging through his head, but it's there nonetheless. Gen will have to re-examine it more later, when he can actually think straight. The notion of, 'I was right.'
The notion of, 'Amos hasn't forgotten how to be a proper human being. I knew it.'
Vaguely, he wonders what it says about him that he feels no similar compulsion to kneel, to offer any words now, to a man who probably wouldn't want them anyway. (He thinks of the other life he'd taken. Of the silence imposed upon him afterwards. Of the body he never saw afterwards. Of the unmarked grave he doesn't even know the location of.) ]
Huh? [ He's obviously still woozy and rattled, looking over a beat too slow when Amos speaks to him. It takes him another beat to process those soft words, then one more before he nods. ] Yeah. I can get back.
[ Gen takes a deep breath, trying not to think about the fact that it feels like he can taste copper on his tongue. And he looks to Amos once more, making sure to meet his gaze and trying to speak as clearly as he can when he declares, ]
Stay safe.
[ He has to. Amos needs to make it back safely, now that their mission is done.
With that, Gen melts into the ground, darting through the earth at serpentine speeds towards the cornerstone. They'll both get back 'home' safely. ]