aionlogs | EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

The Empty Throne Pt 2

ESCAPE

As more and more of the prisoners awaken to the Pleroma's power, it soon becomes clear that conflict is inevitable. Strength that was locked away blossoms once again, and simply waiting is no longer an option; those that remain in the cavern have made their choice, and they will not be kept there so easily.

By means that may not be immediately apparent, the Pleroma have found themselves able to cast a spell that will ensure their freedom... but only if they can last the half hour it may take to complete. Whatever this power, Xishen, the Aion orchestrator of the Kenoma's ritual, seems able to sense it. As it begins, she will appear at each of the Kenoma's sides.

"The Pleroma has taken hold of them," she says. "Stop them now, or when you see them again, it will be as your mortal enemies. If you believe in the Kenoma's promise, take a stand. The Regent is watching."

For those that heed her, it will not be hard to find the congregation of Pleroma, the first seeds of their teleportation magic taking form. What's more, the fires of their hope have been stoked by this new chance at survival, granted them a surge of energy born of the Pleroma, compensating for the poor state of their bodies. The tension comes to a head, between those that would follow the Regent's path towards a better universe, and those that would seize the wild power of the Pleroma to escape.

Whatever violence ensues, eventually it will come to an end. Despite the Kenoma's efforts, the teleportation spell will come to fruition, enveloping the Pleroma in a sea of light and warmth. The Kenoma can only watch as fractals of blinding color whisk the Pleroma away.

VALLEY OF INNOCENCE

You will find yourself at the Shrine of the Innocent, surrounded by a valley of flourishing wildflowers. As you step from the shade of the monument, you will find your arrived here just in time to enjoy a warm spring spring morning, the sound of birds and gentle breezes tickling your ears. The sun slowly drifts past the horizon, its rays reaching out to you, as if in comfort. The air itself is alight with a strange aura of peace, as if committing violence here would be a sacrilege. There are no man made structures as far as your eyes can see.

Flowers of all shapes and sizes can be found here, and so can fresh water and various fruits and berries. All of them are safe to eat, and seemingly grow in abundance. There are animals here as well, all the common types one would expect from a place like Earth, with the occasional odd addition. While you can try to hunt them, you will find yourself unable to follow through on any attempts to hurt the creatures here. In turn, they regard you as familiar, and will fearlessly wander close as they inspect these new arrivals. In the distance, you may even catch sight of what appears to be a unicorn, only for its ephemeral shape to disappear from sight just as quickly.

The Pleroma will find safety and comfort here for a time, before they recover enough to travel onward. At some point during the afternoon of the first day, they may spot the occasional humanoid figure moving in the distance; when attempting to move in their direction, they will find an assortment of clothing set out across the grass as if in offering. It will come in many sizes but in mostly plain colors, fitting a general aesthetic of 'things a fantasy peasant might wear'. There will also be some blankets, wrapped cheese, jams, jerky, and bread left alongside them.

While there are trees and brush enough to find shelter, the Pleroma will find they hardly need to while resting here. The weather will be picturesque, a comfortable temperature even at night, and there will be no disruptive rain or aggressive wind. Of course, nothing lasts forever, and even though there could stay here for days, what if the Regent's forces are on their way? Once again, they must find the strength to carry on.

THE TRIWATER

As the Pleroma vanish, those claimed by the Kenoma are left in the darkness of the throne room. The Hylician soldiers are clearly agitated by the fighting, but Xishen herself seems unflustered. She will only sigh before quietly coming to the aid of any Kenoma that still need it, providing some light healing magics and explaining that their work here is over. With the Pleroma gone, all that's left to do is to return to Achamoth.

Things move quickly from there. The camp grounds are packed up, and soon enough the Kenoma will be ushered towards the river at the edge of the forest, to board a particularly large river vessel. As the Hylician soldiers prepare to go their separate ways, you will be told that you are to take the Triwater river to the capital city of Achamoth, where you will finally meet your new master, the Regent. The vessel is big enough for all of you, and it will set off the moment everyone is boarded. Suddenly, the world of entrapment and ruins you've been living in since your arrival will be left behind, leaving you to ponder the nature of your future.

The boat itself is well equipped and comfortable for what it is. A variety of colorful hammocks are hung in the lower decks and are open to be claimed for the journey back, which will take a day or two. The Kenoma will be offered a change of clothes of a similar style to what they already have if necessary, and there are plenty of blankets and cushions available to make life in the hold more comfortable. There are dice available for games of chance as well as some mystifying decks of cards that seems to have twelve suits with five cards each, themed around the Legacies. The twelfth suit is for the Regent.

Though the sailors controlling the vessel will mostly keep to themselves and leave the Kenoma alone, one of them will occasionally play harp music on the deck. Though they probably don't actually need help running the ship, they will let the Kenoma help them with chores and ship running tasks if they are so inclined; generally speaking, these sailors just seem like normal people, albeit a bit shy of their passengers. If you're polite to them, they may even gives you a river tour of Horos. On this ride alone, you'll get to see several magnificent bridges spanning the Triwater's width. At night, you are treated to a clear spring sky filled with stars.

As you make it closer to Achamoth, you'll notice the landscape shift, becoming mountainous and dotted with more and more military watch posts. The land becomes increasingly lifeless in a way that's hard to put your finger on, nature giving way to man-made creations of impressive architectural prowess. Soon, you will meet the person behind it all.

QUESTIONS

Can my Kenoma character fight against other Kenoma and/or help the Pleroma?
Yes, though if you do this you must describe what your character has done in a reply to the "Committed Actions" top-level below. This way, the mods can be aware of what happened and have your character treated accordingly. They are unlikely to receive immediate consequences if they don't hurt their fellow Kenoma, but their choices will follow them into Achamoth. If a Kenoma vs Kenoma conflict escalates into serious violence (attempted or successful) committed by the Kenoma rebel, Xishen will intervene and consequences will happen immediately which may restrict their actions until the next event post.

Can our characters leave the valley?
They can, yes, but really this event is just meant to cover the day or two they spend recovering before finding a more permanent place to go. You are free to have your character investigate the valley and probe the spaces beyond it, but please save any plans for large scale travel to the next event, which will be happening on April 2nd. The game will move into a 1:1 time ratio as of then.

Can our characters leave the boat?
Technically yes, but any Kenoma who wander too far will get in trouble. You are expected to report to the Regent, and behaving as if you are considering doing otherwise will not make an good impression.

Does the hope-based Pleroma boost last into the valley?
The boost to Pleroma characters will fade shortly after arriving in the valley, like coming down from a high. They'll have to recover the normal way from there.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ an object none of them know is so integral, as critical to their well-being as it is is held in Abel's hands; this process is one unfamiliar to him, foreign - and yet strangely intuitive, as if part of him remembers it somewhere deep inside himself. if this is 'magic,' then... suppose his first taste of it is one he enjoys.

something he enjoys decidedly less is the cacophony of bloodshed and violence that has filled the cavern instead of quiet suffering. they've traded one form of misery for another - but this one, at least, will see them away from this place. for good, Abel hopes.

...yes, he hopes a great many things. like that escape will be plausible at all. he's passed along the 'spell' that Xishen taught him, after all - the same Xishen who had ordered their capture. somehow... he still has faith.

blue eyes snap up from where he had been softly frowning into his shard, an intensity of concentration at his brow briefly contorting into surprise at the voice too close for comfort. --ah; someone has managed to sneak up on him (not a difficult task, right now). but any wariness he might have felt is evaporating as he realizes the hushed message passed from the stranger's lips--

Do you need anything?

...and all at once, that light of surprise burns brighter in his eyes-- before there is gratitude, and something rueful. ]

I do, sir--

[ Abel takes a small step, adjusting his posture; the tension there is stress, the sense of time running out, the hope that the injuries his fellows-- and would-be enemies-- have received aren't fatal and can be tended to in short order. (he, too, hasn't managed to avoid getting his fair share of the Kenoma's ire; his face is... well, more bruise than anything else, and his nose is definitely busted. teenagers, man. it's rough for a pacifist out here.) but despite getting his ass thoroughly handed to him, and the fact that he can tell this man isn't 'like him,' brandishing that weapon as it were...

he isn't afraid, and his expression is plaintive. ]

--For you to come with us. It isn't too late-- it's almost finished, and, I-- I can make a grab for you, make it convincing. You can pretend you had no choice in the matter, if that would make it easier, so--

[ so come with them, alright?

whether he's sensed something in this man's spirit, has a gut feeling... it doesn't matter. the offer stands, and Abel seems sincere. ]

[ Oh, gosh.

Back home, Matt could only have dreamed of a moment like this, swaying in the thrum of a concert while songs play about love in a dangerous time, or taking a last-chance joyride. A handsome stranger saying "come with me, I'll grab you and take you away from here"? That's iconic stuff. Of course, there are no concerts anymore. No bars or festivals, no streetlights misted with nighttime fog. All those indie musicians Matt used to love are dead.

Startled, he takes a step back to match Abel's forward. His eyes meet the other man's, Matt's muddy hazel locking onto a blue that feels, to him, like a clear and fragile morning. ]

I can't do that, [ he protests. ] I mean ... I don't want to.

[ Matt frowns as he peers into the stranger's face. (The shard registers at the edges of his awareness, though not its purpose. That'll come later, if at all.) The other man looks hurt, and tired; Matt's not great at judging what other people might be thinking, but he thinks he detects a real kindness in his expression, beneath the bruises.

He shakes his head slightly. ]

I wanna fix all this.

[ to have his offer declined doesn't exactly surprise him, but the disappointment is worn naked upon his face as the priest regards his newfound 'Kenoma' friend. this man doesn't radiate the malicious intent so many others had before him, even if it had often come from a conflicted place of grim resolve.

no, this... this is different. ]

...Fixing this-- that... admittedly? Sounds quite nice, sir.

[ Abel's smile is small and tentative, and obviously a little strained considering their situation - but it's genuine. he knows he isn't the only one among them - and the Kenoma - to believe it didn't need to come to this. but 'fixing' it? that... that is definitely something to strive toward. ]

Getting out of here is a step in that direction, or... I think-- at least, it's the best option among a lot of, ah. Not very great ones. But if you can offer me something better, then-- please. I'm all ears, alright?

[ and true to his word, he's watching Matt with attentiveness, a captive audience to anything that leaves the Kenoma's lips. lay it on him, Matt!! ]

[ This is actually a much better reception than Matt expected, given that the would-be escapees are taking an awfully firm stand against the deal Matt accepted. On top of that, Abel's kind of in the middle of something.

Naturally, as soon as Matt's invited to expound, every coherent thought flies from his brain. He's left with the first breathless remark his mouth can make. ]

I agree. Our options suck. [ A faint, startled smile, more a twitch of his lips than anything else. ] And I don't know how great this sounds, but I just, know ...

There were a lot of people where I came from, right? Amazing artists, and scientists trying to cure cancer, and like, babies who were born that day--a lot of them were better and cooler people than I'll ever be. And they all deserve another chance. [ Matt blinks a moment. It'd be incredibly stupid and un-suave of him to cry in front of this nice stranger. Luckily, tears don't seem imminent. ] Everything has to die sooner or later to make room for something new. It can feel scary when it's our turn, but that's how things keep going. What's left now is ...

[ He swallows. ]

It's barely anything. Shadows and rot. We have to restart, we just--

We have to.

[ Abel's gentle grip on the shard in his hand tightens as Matt speaks; there is such sincerity in these words that it's a little hard not to be moved by the sentiments behind them for how genuine they feel. his world, too, was much like the one described-- filled with people being born, people living their lives, building families, trying to survive and make the world around them beautiful (even if not all of them fit into such categories, of course). the world-- just like life-- is beautiful. and the world, just like life... isn't all beautiful.

death is a part of that. part of a natural cycle. but what Matt is suggesting... that is anything but, isn't it? ]

...Do you believe it's gone, sir? Your world?

[ does he believe what had been conveyed to them in that surreal, too-real dream? Abel is among those who has refused to accept its validity, stubbornly clinging to the hope that there are homes, worlds left to return to. that all the faces of this loved ones, those he cares for, remain.

but he knows he is in the minority. and he also understands how so grievous a loss is more than sufficient motivator for a man to accept what Matt has accepted; knowing if that is the case... it would go far in helping them reach some kind of common ground, even if they might not see eye-to-eye, in the end. ]

[ Matt frowns, surprised at the question. ]

They all are.

[ There's a hint of a question in there. Everyone Matt's talked to about it has been just as sure as he is that their worlds are gone, extinguished. Hell, he and Amos thought they might be dead themselves, experiencing the final synapse fireworks that precede brain shutdown.

This guy sounds like he believes something different. More optimistic. And Matt can't blame him. If he could have identified any scrap of hope to cling to himself, if he'd had a glimmer of evidence that anything out there was left, he might've swung right into denial. The truth is so hard to bear.

One thing, at least, he feels he can address right now. ]

Um ... my name's Matt, by the way. You can call me Matt.

[ Sir is very nice, but it makes him feel like an impostor. ]

[ Matt is a very disarming sort of fellow, Abel's finding; perhaps it's unwise to drop his guard, but it appears that he has. some more of the tension has leaked out of his posture as Matt introduces himself, and the priest gently shifts his hold on his Shard, freeing up a hand to offer in a (very gentle) shake. ]

Abel, [ he offers-- and after a brief hesitation, he adds: ] Father Abel Nightroad, Mr. Matt-- having a great deal of faith is in my job description, you see, so-- you'll have to forgive me if you find I'm not quite ready to give up on both the places we call home...

[ it's almost apologetic - as though he can understand where Matt is coming from, but...

yes, there is that whole 'unable to see eye-to-eye' thing, huh? even so, if this conversation has proven anything-- it solidifies there's no reason that the two need to come to blows over differences in viewpoints, at the very least...!! ]

[ As Abel extends a hand, Matt realizes he's still holding onto this freaking sword. Abruptly, he sets it to the side; it hangs in midair in the spot where his hands release it, leftover momentum sending it into a slow rotation. Very gently, Matt shakes Abel's hand back. ]

Father Nightroad. Abel. [ Not quite able to decide between the name that seems respectful and the one that feels natural, Matt goes with both. His lips twitch again, though this time the expression is more on the frowning end than smiling. Maybe it's to be expected when a(n irreconcilable?) difference of opinion rears its head, but he feels unsettled. ]

I have faith too, [ Matt says quietly. If he's aware how much of his discomfort is showing on his face, he's not inclined to hide it; he keeps looking right at Abel with those earnest, troubled eyes. ] I believe in a fresh start.

[ that bit with sword is... neat?? yes, it's neat-- and Abel is briefly distracted by its motion through the air before he accepts that hand, shaking it warmly and with gentility. ]

Father Abel, Mr. Matt~! It's what friends call me, so it'll make me quite pleased if I can count you among that number.

[ the subject of faith - and where each of them have placed theirs - has some of his smile beginning to wane despite the cheeriness of that statement; he sends a little glance over his shoulder, all too aware that time is of the essence.

but this, too, is important to him-- and he has no qualms giving Matt a moment to speak his piece. ]

...I won't pretend that my world is perfect. I know yours was-- is-- much the same; I doubt there's a single world among any of ours that could claim the lofty title of 'perfection,' right? [ unattainable, that 'perfection.' flawlessness is an impossibility. ] And much as some of those imperfections are beautiful, some are... decidedly not. Even so-- even if our worlds had ended, even if we were given a second chance at building them better-- I don't know that any of us are suited to make that judgment. I don't know of any man that could, Mr. Matt... and I certainly don't think any of us could ask countless lives-- worlds-- to be sacrificed for someone's vision of 'better.' Do you-- do you really believe that?

[ because Abel can clearly see, plain as day, this man possesses a hefty serving of compassion, of empathy. is he really alright with condemning entire worlds to oblivion for the sake of a 'fresh start', when none of them even know what that means...? it's-- terrifying. ]

[ Something almost sad crosses Matt's face at the mention of counting himself among Abel's friends. Still, he nods, giving a murmur of, ] Father Abel.

[ Though if he was discomfited by what Abel had to say before, now Matt's visibly shaken. He shakes his head slightly, but doesn't interrupt. When Abel questions him, he's quick to protest: ]

It's not like that.

[ He swallows. ]

The things I can do, this-- [ A jerk of his head towards the floating sword. ] --magic. It doesn't come from me. It moves through me, but it's bigger than I am. I don't think we have to decide exactly what to do yet, but when we do ...

It won't be just us.

...Then-- tell me, Mr. Matt. Please.

[ he takes another small, barely there step closer; Abel is clearly restraining himself from reaching out in some plaintive effort to anchor this man with him. just like so many others, the priest is absolutely wretched with a fear for what will happen to someone whose heart is not a dark, empty void-- who bleeds so painfully and openly, should Matt go with Xishen to the Regent.

anyone who preaches oblivion, anyone who forces that dark sludge through the veins of others, who warps their minds and wills and vulnerabilities against them is no ally. no friend, not to anyone here. Abel is firm in that belief. ]

That power that moves through you... how do you use it? A sword can be used to take life, but it can also be used to protect it.

[ and so far... Matt looks like he's chosen a path with a decided lack of bloodshed.

and Abel desperately understands how dangerous that is for this man. ]

Edited (do not perceive my inability to type,) 2022-04-05 01:58 (UTC)

[ Matt's been lonely for a long time--or at least, in 25 years on earth, he's felt loneliness very deeply. The one way he's always been able to feel close to people, genuinely, irrevocably connected, is through touch. So when Abel shifts closer, there's a part of Matt that desperately wants to close the gap between them.

He can't let himself. ]

It's gonna be hard, [ he admits, voice dropping towards a whisper. It's a not-so-tacit admission that Abel's got the right read on him. Back home, Matt could be reckless with his power, but its applications tended in decidedly prosocial directions: Urban gardens that made the people who breathed their air feel healthier. Wards to prevent violent crime. Water purification. Little spells, in the grand scheme of the universe, but always meant to soothe.

Those tears that had threatened earlier prick at the corners of Matt's eyes, hot and insistent. It's really strange--for someone who met him moments ago, Father Abel sounds almost like he knows him.

With a shake of his head, Matt steps back, preemptively putting distance between himself and Abel. ]

But I'm ready to do the hard thing.

It's like you said: Nothing's perfect. I think hard choices are the only kind we have left.

[ Abel surmises his (albeit very surface level and basic) understanding of Matt's person to be correct considering the other man's reaction, and while that is a boon - it's also deeply upsetting. to see someone whose heart is capable of such love for others, for the world, twisted like this...

it's wrong in just about every way it can be, isn't it? yes. ]

...This choice goes far beyond you and me. It goes beyond all of us, doesn't it? This isn't a decision any of us can make-- and even if we could... you've already made yours, haven't you? Your sword isn't the kind that should spill blood. It's not... I know it isn't.

[ another small, tiny step forward as restraint wars with desperation in his chest. please, Matt-- please see reason. please understand how utterly mad this is, this horrible path he's set himself on. ]

And if you wield it like that-- the thing you will be killing isn't just your 'enemy.' It will be parts of yourself, so... please. Please don't do this to yourself. Please come with us, alright--? I promise, we can talk about it all until we're blue in the face, and... and if you decide after everything, this is truly what you want to do, then... I'll understand, but--

[ please don't go with them. ]

[ It sounds nice. Really nice. Part of Matt's heart can't help but lift at the prospect of going with him, at the thought of more time to talk and to get more perspectives. From another priest, even.

It's the other piece--the keeper of his new resolve, the purpose that lifted him up when he was crumbling--that draws back. Matt stumbles backward in two abrupt steps, as if he knows that if Abel takes his hand again, he'll go. Matt's breath catches in his throat. At once, the sword clatters to the ground. A glowing sphere springs up around him, its transparent gold shot through with tinges of ash. ]

You don't know that, [ he says. His eyes are still wide, but now there's something flinty in them--something like stubbornness. A wall. ] You don't know anything about me, actually.

[ Matt doesn't think that's true. That's the scary part. After a moment that feels like forever, but in reality only lasts a second, he says: ]

I have to go.

[ ...it feels like history is doomed to repeat itself, over and over again.

Matt draws further away, draws a sort of defensive barrier around himself that has that sinking feeling in Abel's chest growing all the more unbearable, because with it comes a twinge of realization. even if it looks like his words are hitting some kind of chord, that - if given time - he might make some kind of headway, make it through to Matt--

time is a luxury neither of them have, nor can they afford.

the priest's grip on his Shard tightens; so too does the grimace at his lips. he cannot-- and will not-- try to force this man's hand. this is a decision, a choice, he must make for himself. it breaks Abel's heart just as it has so many times before, but... the agency is in the hands of the Kenoma. their fates are their own, even if it's infuriatingly frustrating to think about it in such a way. they had been manipulated into this choice, Abel feels, and that is something he will never forgive the Regent for.

but he doesn't take another step forward. instead, there is a meager slope of his shoulders that signifies his incredibly reluctant and unhappy defeat. ]

...You won't come, then. [ softer, quieter than the impassioned words before them. ] If you have to go, and our paths are going in separate directions..

[ ... ]

Whatever you do, Mr. Matt-- whatever sacrifices you feel you must make, it's never too late to turn around. I'll be waiting for you if you should ever start walking the other way, alright--?

[ and there will be forgiveness, a hand stretched out and waiting for him should he ever find himself ready to take it. ]

[ Matt's read about what can happen to the brain in crisis. The way the animal parts of yourself take over, narrowing your focus to an aperture bent solely on survival. But even amid the hammering of his heart, the oceanic rush of blood in his ears, the way his thoughts fog in on themselves, he still finds himself thinking:

Never too late.

Like never?

That's really something.

Matt intends to say something back of equal weight. Comparable, at least. But his first step is to keep walking backward, not letting Abel out of his sight, and his second is to swallow past the hard lump in his throat. What he manages at last is a less-than-soaring-- ]

Yeah.

[ And then-- ]

Bye.

[ Before he turns tail and makes for the cavern's mouth. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT #1: THE EMPTY THRONE (PT 2)

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