EVENT #6: BY HEAVEN OR HELL

[aionmods]

By Heaven or Hell

THE BURNING

Achamoth, as it turns out, is no stranger to public killings... the burning of two Pleroma, however? That's special. Abel and Himeka's upcoming execution date seems to be regarded by the city's populace as something akin to a holiday, with the upper crust of the social stratum fighting for positions of prominence in the festivities, including the best possible seats. It's been decades since any Pleroma have been brought to heel in Achamoth, and it would only be prudent to place yourself at the forefront of this exciting new trend. There's a sense of pageantry to it: ritualized ceremonies, public sermons, and strange religious 'décor' are all part of the process.

The city is in the throes of these preparations when the two Pleroma captives are finally brought to a central square not far from the Citadel's front gates. Two burning pyres have been set up for them, about ten feet apart. While Abel and Himeka's bodies are chained to their stakes, their shards will be handed off to Silco, Ciel, and Makoto to be brought along separately. The set up of the execution is thus: while their bodies are ravaged by flames, their shards will be bound to an altar in advance of the pyre. Via a kind of alchemical 'fuse', the pyre being lit will trigger a reaction that will gradually result in a explosion on the altar just large enough to destroy the shard in turn. The shards will be bound in position with a series of jewelry-like metal prongs that could be pried away, but would take some time to do carefully.

As the Pleroma make it to the city, the sun will be setting on the 17th of Firaseri, with the execution about to be underway. The pyres will not yet have been lit, but are fully prepared. All Kenoma will be called upon to guard the city, with the warning that the Pleroma are mounting a raid to rescue their imprisoned comrades. For Kenoma both new and old, it's a time to test your mettle. Those that defend Achamoth valiantly can expect to be rewarded.

INNOCENCE ON FIRE

The city of Achamoth looms ahead, a seat of power in Horos in every fashion. It sprawls outwards, claiming the lands around it in a lazy confidence. The spires of the city grow up and up like a mountain, dragging the eye towards the Citadel. The walls that surround it are modest in height as if offering a challenge to any foolish enough to attempt to climb them. Who would? The Regent's eye is ever-present and the guard towers that line it like beaded pearls on a string are reminders that nothing goes in or out of the city without notice. Openings in the towers and the walls threaten the use of projectiles while dark, shimmering crystals float above with the quiet hum of protective magics. Only a fool would breach these borders.

Initially, getting into the city unmolested will be a considerable struggle for the Pleroma. It's military is robust, its fortifications solid, and even without the Kenoma's added resistance, the sheer numbers could be considered insurmountable. Stealth could get them some of the way, but its sentries are watchful, and immigration is strictly controlled. With faith alone driving the Pleroma towards their goal it's fortunate, then, that something is there to answer their call.

Estinien will feel the presence of the Innocence Entity rise up in him again, and this time it is offering him a choice. He may utilize its power to save the ones he loves, while risking both the brutality of the Regent's defenses and the threat to his own soul by channeling such power. It will stand with him against the darkness, it says, if it is truly his will. Emboldened by the power of the Firebrand and his love for his comrades, it is no surprise that he accepts.

Light will flood the sky above Achamoth, an ethereal aura combatting the encroach of the night. From a great miasma of wings and flame, a colossal dragon emerges, coiling above the city skyline. Its luminescence rains down upon the city, and all Achamites exposed to it will be enchanted into finding the idea of committing acts of violence unthinkable, at least so long as no violence is brought against them in turn. With much of Achamoth's defenses having lost the will to fight, only the Kenoma will stand in the Pleroma's way as they penetrate the city, making their way to Abel and Himeka's pyres.

As the Pleroma forge ahead, this draconic being that was once Estinien Wyrmblood will guard from the skies, drawing the attention of the Kenoma towards it and it threatens to bear its might against the Citadel itself. Fortunately for the Kenoma guarding the city, they will know that the Regent has a plan. All they must do is hold off the beast long enough for the Regent to wield their own strength in turn. The battle against this creature will take place here, with combat rules being explain in this OOC post.

As the power of the Innocent washes over Achamoth, those of its Legacy, or those marked by its Promise or Touch, will hear it speak on the winds in a chorus of voices:

Aions of this new dawn... I have honored your choice... fight... if you will... and I will follow...

FIREBRAND RISING

Beneath the moon of Firaseri, however, the Innocent isn't the only force at play. Firebrands of both sects will find themselves spurred on by a rush of Legacy-based power, as if inspired by the tumultuous environment of an anti-authoritarian raid. How precisely this manifests will depend on which side they are fighting for.

❖ PLEROMA
The Firebrands among the Pleroma raiders will feel a sense of vindication and rightness come over them, set as they are to challenge the Regent's rule. Their powers will be amplified during the battle, and those that witness them and are inspired may find their performance boosted. The nature of these enhancements is fairly flexible. For the Firebrands, the use of their regular skills and abilities may be amplified beyond normal boundaries, whereas those following in their wake may find themselves with usual endurance that allows them to push their their usual limits.

❖ KENOMA
The Firebrands of the Kenoma's inspiration is more complicated in nature, given their roll in defending Achamoth's status quo. However, they will find themselves bolstered while facing the pacifying might of the Innocence Entity. Firebrands will experience a natural resistance against any Innocence based attacks that would stop them from fighting, and will be able to use this blessing to rally NPCs that would otherwise be rendered useless to their cause, in defiance of the entity's command for peace. In general, they will see a boost in strength while fighting the raid boss in particular, unable to be deterred from their goals.

In general, all Firebrands will feel untethered by their regular inhibitions, fighting for their desires at all costs. Abilities intended to bind them or control their will, will be largely ineffective, and they will find shields both physical and magical particularly easy to break through.

QUESTIONS

Q: What is the best way for Pleroma to travel to Achamoth?
A: Akua and Estinien are both setting up portals from Godsblood to the outskirts of Achamoth from which to begin mounting the assault. Caitlyn will be providing a back-up in the case either of those portals go down.

Q: Can my character make use of the chaos and try to raid the Citadel?
A: They can try but there will be mod rolls involved for any attempts. NPCs inside the Citadel will not be affected the same way the NPCs outside in main area will be. We do not want it to seem like the Citadel is defenseless otherwise.

Q: If Kenoma cause damage to the city during the raid, how will the Regent feel? Will there be consequences?
A: It should try to be avoided, but the Regent will understand if there is collateral damage in battle as long as they aren't being careless about it.

Q: Is the "no-combat aura" completely incapacitating NPCs?
A: No, it is only stopping them from aggressing the Pleroma. If they or their property are attacked they will defend themselves, and are otherwise operating with a normal level of cognizance. Kenoma Aions can order them out of the area to avoid being hurt if necessary.

BOSS BATTLE:
Q: I would like my character to take part in the battle but want to limit the outcomes in a way that isn't too devastating. Is that possible?
A: We think in that case we would basically only be acknowledging the possibilities between the "The attack either misses, is ineffective, or it triggers a counter attack from the boss." and "The attack hits with moderate effectiveness, as determined by the nature of their action." range. So, you can't get taken out, but you also can only deal moderate hits at best. You could still trigger a counter attack from the boss, but the damage taken from that is more flexible and free form than the 1-5% zone. If you make an attack with this restriction just add a little OOC note to your initial attack tag.

Q: How can a support character engage in the combat?
A: If your character is providing support, you may team up with an attacker to submit a "group attack". This means that your character is putting their effort towards supporting that attacker character that round, and will not be able to submit their own separate action. In exchange, that attack will receive two mod rolls instead of one, and the attack itself will be based on the more favorable of the two rolls. (Sort of like rolling with an advantage in modern D&D.) We will make as many rolls as there there are character combining their effort and select the best of them.

If any character rolls in the 1-5% zone they will still be taken out, however. Click the link above for more information.

Q: Can my character take a hit for another character after a mod roll?
A: We would be willing to accept this in the case of the defender taking the hit for the attacker, which would mean that if it's a 1-5%, they would be taken out in the attacker's stead.

Comments

Silco | Kenoma | Visionary

[zauneyete]

I. Pre-Raid - OTK (Open to Kenoma)

[ Everyone loved a spectacle. Silco, in particular, knew the power of manipulating the people -- and thus was more than happy to do his part. He even strode up, obvious, not even invisible, even though he so often lurked the corners and kept to the shadows. It was how he operated within Achamoth because while he could appreciate spectacle, there was so much value in not being found. Here though -- in the thrumming, excited masses, in the seat of the Regent's power, Silco very openly carried the shard his part of the way to the pyre. He hadn't really even bothered to pay attention to who he was carrying. Whoever they were would feel that same, hateful feeling that Silco so often had for... well pretty much everyone.

As soon as it's down, however, he was quick to blend into the crowd, his part completed, having realized the Regent's duty once again, he was quick to slip between figures -- and back out of the crowd. He had no interest in watching the burning, because he very well knewaway from the fires. Seemingly to slip into an alley, although he's easily stopped for conversation, if one wants. He had been up there rather obviously, assisting with lashing the shard to that ornate pyre.

Or perhaps you catch him somewhat after, smoking a cigar a block or two away, as he surveyed the area. He had a knife strapped into his coat, hidden from view. He certainly looked relaxed, but with every puff of the cigar, his hand held it loosely, ready to drop it at the first possible sign of trouble. Closer to a... coiled snake, seemingly lazy, but ready to strike when it was time. ]

II. Pre-Raid - OTA

[ As Silco slipped through the streets of Achamoth, he's quick to keep his eyes alternating between the skies and the streets, as if he can sense the atmosphere slowly encroaching. As the sun begins its descent -- just starting to slip lower than the tallest buildings in the sky, an array of orange and golden hues took the streets, and the Man with a black and orange eye watched . Even your average Achamite, if they looked even remotely suspicious, Silco would follow them, and if they looked back too many times, he would vanish from view, only to keep following them, listening until he was satisfied that they were just Achamites.

Then there was the smoking. If he wasn't looking for suspicious figures, he was lurking, a cigar in hand, puffing away at it, the foul scent filled the air, the smoke cloying and heavy, as if he had chosen the foulest, cheapest, stinkiest cigars he could. He enjoyed the finer things, but sometimes... sometimes one wanted the kind that burned his lungs in a way that only outright pollution could. He blew one at a figure passing by, just to see them react -- if just to see what they would do when they did it.

He knew something was going to happen. The waiting though... that was both an addictive high, and nauseating, all in one.

Hence so many cigars. ]

Early on - Closed to CAITLYN

[ It hasn't appeared, which would have gotten Silco moving in an entirely different direction. He's watching for It, waiting.

As he stalked the streets, invisible, he's about to turn, and go in another direction when he saw something -- high up, over the ledge of a building. He can only see it because he's looking. The glint of --

His eyes narrow. The hair is the giveaway, and Silco's lips spread into a smile. What could sate his fury of the thing that hadn't shown yet? What could sate his lust to hurt something? It was the Enforcer. It couldn't be anyone else. He crept up the metal scaffolding, invisible all the while, silent as the grave as he climbed up the outside of the building. He was no teenager, but he'd been a Sump Rat all the same as a boy, and muscle memory really did keep him going, slipping up with barely a sound, and then he was up, on the ledge of a building. His boots -- now customized to keep his steps silent -- he crept, slowly, his knife already out of the holster at his back, already in an attack position as he moved forward, quiet.

Silco though, he can't help himself. He's dramatic, and he wants someone to know who is doing it. He can't help himself. After so much time hiding, sneaking, selling out his fellows within the sect, it feels good to inch closer, and utter: ]

Look who it is.

[ And he lashes with the knife, it's fast, but not inhumanly so, and the moment he attacks, the invisibility he'd come to rely on dropped immediately, now that he was out of combat. ]

[ ooc; if you would like a specific TL, hit me up! you can PM, ping me in the disc, or hit up my plotting comment for something specific! ]

[superbshot]

[Caitlyn had been doing her level best to remain out of sight from the street, moving along the center of rooftops, but sometimes things were narrow and sometimes she had to remain stationary to sight a target. That's when she expected to be attacked, and unfortunately she was right.

Her gun's crack had already cut through the air a few times, providing cover and forcing enemy soldiers empowered by nearby Firebrands to go to ground. A role she was comfortable to play, sticking to the fringes, doing what she did best. Himeka and Abel needed to be saved, the Regent needed to be thwarted once again. These were the correct actions, the only ones she could conscience, even if it meant ruin for herself. They had to protect their own.

She figured that at some point an enemy Aion would come after her, and she wouldn't have been surprised if it was more than one, seeking revenge for Misa. Of course, a part of her wanted it to be Silco, to give her the opportunity to settle that grudge...but she doubted he'd be so directly involved.

When she hears his voice behind her, that part of her smiles. The rest of her gasps as she feels the knife strike her, the pressure of it against her back decidedly unpleasant. But it's Silco. Silco, who represents the worst of humanity to her. Silco, the man who had orchestrated so much pain and suffering among the people he claimed to want to lift up, the man who had raised the girl that may well have killed her mother, and the man who's child definitely killed any chance at peace between their two cities.

Her shield holds as firmly as her convictions, practically thrumming with power as the knife strikes her...and shatters into a dozen stinging metal shards.]

...Bloody hell. [Cait murmurs, rising to her full height and turning to face the little weasel of a man. The rifle shifts into a pistol in an eyeblink and she stares down her attacker.] Look who it is, indeed.

i. late with starbucks

[affal]

( for ciel, silco, and himself, their duty was done. himeka's and abel's shards had passed through their hands to be borne from the bowels of the citadel and out onto achamoth's streets, where the city's veins and arteries were choked with throngs of people practically humming with anticipation and excitement for their blood to spill. it's ghoulish in a way that to makoto is especially human. mortal. demons certainly didn't delight in such things because their essences were eternal — one might twist a temporary death into something that might make a point, to forcibly put down an adversary (or even a friend) so that their confidence shook and broke and therefore clearly distinguished their assailant as their hierarchical superior. but they would simply reform again days later, and they would have to continue to live with that new reality. in a way, Aions are more like demons in that way. but the way that has been laid out to bring about their deaths — their real, tangible, and permanent deaths — removes that veil and brings about his memories of earth. how witches were burned, how some were weighed to the bottoms of rivers and lakes, and how others were made to die in a myriad of creative ways throughout the centuries for their crimes. it is not at all unlikely that he might have met such a mandated end in his own life, if he had been more unscrupulous, if he had allowed his instincts to run wild rather than seek some sort of way to remove himself before such a thing might come to pass. yes, mortals did so often seem more cruel than their perpetual and unknowable counterparts, simply by the nature of their creativity for cruelty and the joy they extracted from its "righteousness."

makoto doesn't expect to stray from the proceedings for long. he does, after all, feel apprehensive — though he is far less consternated about the warrior of light, there is a storm of conflict within his heart when he considers abel's permanent end. but still... he wants to ensure both. it would be for the best. for the both of him, and for himself, so he wouldn't have to continue to consort with complications he didn't want.

but he had, of course, seen silco earlier as they carried the shards, and he sees him slink away now. he'd been meaning to speak to the man for some time, but other preparations or conversations interjected, so he hadn't had the chance to track him down. this seems like as ample an opportunity as ever. the demon separates from his place in the crowd and threads through it familiarly, knowingly, eventually detaching once more to appear almost seamlessly at silco's side.

he regards the cigar with a type of nostalgia. ) A dear friend of mine had a similar habit, though he preferred cigarettes. ( fjord, his first and only friend on earth and in hell. he supposes he had mourned his loss, in his own way, but friends were hidden dangers among demons; before coming here, he had started to grow wary that the other demon's strength might grow to contend with his, after he had taken over datenshou's brothel. ) I never picked it up, myself.

( though perhaps he should have. it would have been a clever revenge against J — he simply hated it, always yelling at fjord to smoke outside. )

It's good to see that you have much recovered in these last few weeks, Silco.

makoto ("m") | kenoma | firebrand

[affal]

I: pre-raid (kenoma)

( it’s an advantage, isn’t it? to prepare one’s capitol, the most concentrated point of its power, for an incursion that you very well know is going to come. as time marches ever onward until that fateful day, makoto finds himself in high perches throughout the city, looking out over it and imagining it as a trap bristling with steel teeth and ready to close on those that blaze into it with little more than blind faith and the image of heroism to bolster them.

or, at least, that’s what he hopes might be the case. there are defenses to prepare, soldiers to marshall, and preparations that the Aions themselves must take on. not all of these are in his wheelhouse, but when it comes to wheeling and dealing among his own, makoto feels a baseline imperative. he wants each cog in this machine to be performing its function optimally, in accordance to their imperatives and in harmony with each other around them, and he wants to catch any that might be rusting or out of alignment early, before they can jam up the rest of the works. )

a. ( NEW CHARACTERS: makoto’s eyes are keen throughout the citadel and the city at large for those that do not look like they immediately belong; should a quick focus with True Sight prove to show the individual is, indeed, an Aion fresh to arrive to achamoth and the Kenoma’s ranks, the demon knifes through the space, threading through crowds if need be, to assume a space at their side. as if he had been there all along, or as if he had been personally invited. )

It’s a lot to take in all at once, I know.

( his tone of voice is smooth, inviting, commiserative. he has put on a half-dozen different faces when fulfilling contracts with humans — each desperate and woeful soul seemed to want something different of the monster they summoned from beyond the veil, and he had tried to perform to the best of his abilities for each. he wants to be a compassionate fate to those new to them, albeit one firm and encouraging in a guiding hand. they can’t expect much of them now. if their birth into this world had been them hatching out of an egg and landing into a frying pan, this was most certainly the fire. )

Come, walk with me. Once you have your bearings, we can concern ourselves with the rest.

( ooc: The setting for this prompt is variable, whatever makes the most sense for your character! Makoto is looking to learn about the new recruits and try his best to offer them a role during the incursion. )

b. ( EXISTING CHARACTERS: these are largely going to be closed prompts nested under this top-level. if you are an existing Kenoma Aion and want to do something in this space, however, please let me know! )

II: pyreside pvp (pleroma)

( an odd stillness holds court within the chamber of makoto’s heart as achamoth’s prisoners are led to their pyre to burn. as the demon holds his own place in the procession, he tries to decide what it is. there should be something there, shouldn’t there? vindictive satisfaction that an enemy might soon be dead? conflicted relief that he would no longer be burdened by another’s hopes and concerns? he doesn’t know. he can’t say. it’s not until the time comes for him to carry their shards in the leg of the journey that had been designated to him that he begins to figure it out. even as he holds their shards, the crystallized essences of their souls, he can’t really seem to bring himself to force a concentrate of his own ire into them. it doesn’t feel right. not because it’s not how he feels, but because there’s something else… blocking it.

apprehension. anxiety. anticipation. this is not over. even though he leads the two to their supposed deaths — true and permanent dissolutions of the body and soul — it doesn’t feel “real” to him even as the entire city makes a spectacle of it.

it is not the forgone conclusion the people of achamoth seem to believe it is. they will have to fight for this, and soon.

when the time comes for the pyres to be lit and for all fire to break loose both in and above the city streets, makoto stands at a position of guarding near where the altar holds their shards, wary and ready to defend their unsanctimonious end. )

( ooc: This is an open call for any Pleroma involved in the rescue who want to engage in some extra PVP! Makoto will first be having a skirmish with Ryu, but afterwards I should be open for some possible altercations before he turns his attention to the boss. Feel free to contact me via PM, lycanthropic, or on discord at sharisper#0002! )

🔴 closed: ciel

[affal]

That's some monstrosity.

( there is the sound of beating wings that heralds makoto's approach. with the entire city of achamoth a flurry of activity like an anthill upturned, he often finds himself flying up to the various rooftops, towers, and spires, scanning the streets below and the walls beyond and the horizon atop all of that, as if hoping that the effort might grant him some sort of added insight into what the key might be to their future defense. as of yet, he hasn't found that slice of divine inspiration he's been looking for, but it's to no great consequence. it appears that the Regent has a plan of their own, and it's deeply embedded into makoto's nature by this point to trust in that implicitly.

they must leave the achamites to their preparations, and they must make their own as well. which is what he has to assume ciel is doing, perched up here on the battlement of this gothic tower, working on a hulk of metal machinery that looks very well near as tall as she is.

he lands alongside her with the faint, leathery sound of his draconic wings folding. he doesn't necessarily put them away just yet, however; as he crouches down to sit a short distance away from her, those additional limbs maneuver to give him additional balance, long, spindly, taloned "fingers" grasping the wrought stone.

he has certainly seen ciel fight, and they've likely trained and sparred together before, but even if that's the case, he has gotten the sense up until this point that she was merely molding her own talents to best suit whomever she was opposing. it's an interesting insight to see what it is she would actually wield, when the hammer finally struck iron. ) Miss Ciel, ( he greets, cordial. ) That's a fascinating weapon. I can't say I've ever seen anything of its like before.

🔴 closed: misa

[affal]

( the city of achamoth hums with a low, fervent, nervous energy. action to prepare for the now-looming inevitability of Pleroma attack seems to proceed day and night, both restless and breathless, as if the seat of the Regent's power wasn't quite sure whether or not they should be thrilled or afraid that they would soon face Aion attack once more, for the first time since the last time the demi-gods had waged war upon this plane. on his own behalf, there is little makoto can do to help them. the only warfare he had been trained in was that fought with words, where silvered tongues were the weapons that would prove might and perfectly-planned manipulation was the primary strategy. he has to trust that the achamite war machine will run properly on its own.

no, what he does instead is check in on its pieces that he does have at least some ability to help. at the end of the day, his demonic facade is really just that, and he has little preternatural ability to do much of anything. that having been said, he can certainly put in the legwork and see to it that the Kenoma are best-equipped and best-prepared for what is to come.

he's flying over the streets in the late afternoon one day on the lead-up to the raid when he notices a familiar figure; angling downward, he soon alights onto the path nearby with the faint rustling of leathery wings. ) Amane-san, good afternoon, ( he greets, though his words lead off, which indicate (along with a faintly furrowed brow) that he's not quite finished in speaking. the reason he's puzzled is that they're not necessarily on a main road but one of the smaller walkways that climb up and down achamoth's terraced verticality. it's not necessarily where he might have expected to find her, so he has to ask, ) Are you looking for something?

1a

[fallingsand]

[ Bruno can be found standing apart from any of the crowds beginning to filter into the square where the pyres are being set up. They're making final preparations, meaning the actual time of the execution is hours off from now still, and he has no idea why he's even here, looking on. Achamites are arriving so early to get the best spots with the best views, the atmosphere is full of excitement, festive even.

All that does is make Bruno feel nervous. It's not that he's never seen people die. He's a prophet. He's seen plenty of death. It's just that they've all been quiet deaths, people passing away of old age in a magical valley where no one gets sick for long or stays hurt, and there were certainly no executions.

He's still dwelling on it when Makoto steps up to his side and speaks. It elicits a start, a small jump, and a tiny step away to the side as he turns to look at him. ]

What? [ It takes a second for him to realize what's been said. Oh. Yeah, all of this being a lot to take in is sure right. ] Uh, s-sure. You're... M, right?

[ The voice is familiar and Ciel had helpfully given him the demon's name when he'd forgotten to ask himself before. Also, you know, that he's a demon. That isn't going to do anything for Bruno's nerves, sorry. ]

IA

[settingup]

[ Considering the dangers that are apparently coming soon, Atsumu should be holing himself up in his room for safety precautions. Actually, he really should be slipping out of this city where it's not safe, but despite what the more senior members of the Kenoma are offering, the orders from the creepy powers that be to protect the citadel seemed to override the offers to keep him safe and out of harms way.

Regardless, Atsumu is a restless creature. He can't sit still in a quiet space for long, so he's out and about, skulking about as he takes in the preparations that the citizens are making for the upcoming "event".

It's weird to see, knowing that people are aware they're about to be invaded, but are treating the whole thing more like a party.

That's part of what he's doing now, staring intently at some people working in tandem on some tasteless bit of decoration, when Makoto's voice makes him start and whip his head around. ]

Wha--?

[ He blinks rapidly, noting the unusual eyes. He's already met Silco though, so he's starting to wonder if that's just how people around here are sometimes... ]

Who the hell're you?

🔴 closed: liem

[affal]

Liem.

( in the days leading up to the attack they anticipate from the Pleroma to attempt to liberate their captured brethren, makoto seeks the man out. all of the pieces are falling into place. some week or two ago he had spent some personal time with the prisoners, and now he contemplates how best to cobble together the requisite pieces of temptation that he now holds locked away within his memories into a bait that would serve to whip the Pleroma (and one in particular) into a veritable frenzy. he knows from personal experience how much of a double-edged sword anger can be — it can be empowering, but it can also be blinding. he can only hope that such a quality might come into play in the days to come, giving them the best possible odds at ending this once and for all.

or, well, end their involvement with a certain creature, at the very least. the Pleroma and this universe in its entirety seem all too doggedly convicted to persist regardless of how tiresome this becomes.

with all of this on his mind, his thoughts had turned to those traitors that he had helped capture in venera a moon back. liem and barnaby — as some in achamoth might have grown to expect, they had disappeared from the public eye for a time, again reappearing with newfound... compliance. makoto does not question the Regent and their judgments (he can't, really), but he has within him... a curiosity. he wants to see the aftermath himself.

so he tracks liem down in the city, with a little help from those who had seen him pass and whose lips were loose enough to let makoto know. the man attends to one of his many stockpiles throughout achamoth, and makoto lingers in the doorway, smiling at him as he might an old friend and not someone for whom his last memory was slashing his throat and making sure his body got back to its guaranteed imprisonment and torture. )

This is quite industrious of you. How many of these do you have hidden away throughout the city, do you think?

🔴 closed: barnaby

[affal]

( for a short while prior to approaching the man himself, makoto observes from a sheltered eave bordering the training grounds, plagued with a morbid curiosity. he focuses the lens of his True Sight on barnaby's soul, taking note that the Kenoma has once again taken root within it, though in its initial and fledgling state. interesting, given that when he saw the man last, he had by his own power and volition shed that attunement and returned to being Untouched by either sect entirely.

when in venera, makoto hadn't really been interested in what happened to the would-be traitors once they were returned to achamoth. as far as he'd been concerned, his duty had been to excise the infected pieces of the greater whole — it would be up to the Regent and those they deemed necessary to address the damage and operate to recover what might be saved. now that he's here to witness the aftermath... he can't help but draw closer, by the impetus of his own curiosity but also by the Regent's own insidious touch wormed deep within his brain, instilling in him an instinct to continue to assess the overall well-being of the Kenoma Aions moving forward. )

Mr Brooks, good afternoon.

( coming out to the training yard to spend some time at his own martial practice had been a possibility for how to fill the latter half of this day, though he finds now that train has thoroughly jumped its track. as it is, he still has the long dagger he had threatened the man strapped to its usual place on his right thigh, another buckled at the small of his back. they are, of course, ignored for the time being; instead his mien is deceptively cordial, as if catching up with a friend he hasn't seen in a while rather than a man he'd helped deliver to torture and brainwashing. ) I've been remiss in keeping up with you since our return from Venera. How are you?

Yuya Sakaki | Lover | Pleroma

[hippocarnival]

[Godsblood | Preparing for the Raid | OPEN TO PLEROMA]

[It's decided, in the end, that it's best not to lead a portal directly to Greentruth just in case. So in the hours before people are setting off, in groups of staging the portals and those waiting to pass through them, it's important to set up the staging ground just outside Godsblood where they'll be able to receive Himeka and Abel... and whatever other injuries take place in their retrieval.

It's not as heroic as assaulting the citadel, but someone does need to stay behind and keep an eye on the portal. Not that fellow members of Godsblood's resistance aren't capable, but... this is a place Yuya can perhaps do more good with less risk of messing it up for everyone else. Less risk if he's unable to defend himself.

He's swallowed that bitter pill that he's not strong enough now. Still, for those who are preparing to leave, he implores:] Be careful, okay? I mean... as much as you can, I guess. When you have Himeka and Mr. Nightroad... we can welcome them back properly together.

[Perhaps it's a bit much of hope that this won't end with further death (for them, at least). But he thinks about what the Innocence Entity said... and maybe, when there's nothing to prove him wrong, he can believe in something far-fetched.]

[for Meteion]

[Of course... once everyone else has left, it turns out watching the portal is largely boring work. The rare Bloodite that comes within sight seems uninterested in coming any closer and mixing themselves up in Aion affairs.

Yuya's sitting on the ground, absently poking at the rainbow motes that float around him. His finger just goes through, of course. Maybe he could try and play with some sort of cantrip... fire? Can he try and make fire?

Perhaps luckily, before he gets too far in that thought he looks up at Meteion--who also stayed behind. He can't blame her for not being eager to go back to Achamoth when the Regent surely knows she's gone.] ... Do you know how to wrap a bandage?

[perfectlygoodbird]

[Thus far, Meteion hasn't had much to say--more because she's nervous. Yuya's thoughts aren't far from her own--surely the Regent knows she's gone. It's little more than wishful thinking to believe she's been overlooked.

Not that everyone has overlooked her, but she hasn't told Zenos anything of substance. Nor would she.]

Why? I've seen it done, but---oh! [Meteion makes a little hop. It makes sense, even as she touches her chin. Of course he's worried. She is too. She can't blame Yuya for that.]

You're right, better to do something than simply...sit, do nothing, and worry.

[leicesters]

[Claude's ready to go and prepared for battle, armed with his bow, a quiverful of arrows, a satchel of supplies, and -- perhaps the most imporant part, depending on who around Greentruth you ask -- the bone fang he'd claimed from the hunt earlier this month, and fashioned into a good luck charm for war, as is the local custom, now tied into his braid. He's not the superstitious type, but it is a little reminder of why he's here, and why he's choosing to fight.

That doesn't stop him being apprehensive about the mission, however, so he doesn't blame anyone like Yuya who can't or won't fight for not tagging along. When he's stopped before he steps through the portal, he pauses to regard the younger teen. He looks around Cyril's age...]

You really care about them, don't you?

[youngprodigy]

[It's true that Cid isn't particularly close to Abel, but Himeka is another story entirely. She's a very dear friend of his, one he would absolutely everything to save, just as she has to the people of Hydaelyn far too many times.]

I'll do what I can to avoid injury. We'll be headed into enemy territory directly... I risk much worse if I'm caught unawares, that I know.

Akua Sahelian | Pleroma | Sovereign

[wolof]

I. Outside Achamoth - Portal

[ The Portal ritual was... simple, rough magic. As soon as she knew the day, the plan, enough to start, she'd chosen her location. She'd chosen an obvious location, right near the entrance to Godsblood, and like a true Praesi, she had slit her wrist with a knife, and buried her blood in the earth, and a circle was formed with cold stone, pulled from the surroundings, and laid, with a flick of her wrist, and magic energy spent. She'd opened portals to the Hells, and this was less complicated by... many degrees.

She took off -- a black swan -- and flew her way near Achamoth. It was...several days, a long journey, and she traveled by herself. The solitude was nothing she was not unused to, and outside Achamoth, short of the city's entrance, she repeated her ritual -- blood to the ground, a circle of rocks pulled in, and then a few words -- words, hah! -- before her magic flowed to the ritual, and the Portal was created. She'd arranged for the word to spread, that the Portal was available, and she closed her eyes, a small nudge to the Pleroma through Communion, with the location in Godsblood, and the promise of a Portal to Achamoth.

She waited, for some to exit. Either to offer words of encouragement, or to offer a spell, or tactical advice. She felt it, that weight of being a leader, and she reached out to any that passed through, offering her aid in what ways she could.

Instead of her usual dresses, she had finally commissioned something for the battle. It was not nearly so ornate, as the armor she'd won as the Heiress -- that showy porcelain thing she'd worn to show of as a young woman -- but she wore over her dress a simple breastplate -- hearts hewn into the lining of it -- and unfortunately, it was still showy (and impractical) in some ways. She was Akua Sahelian, and though she was trying to save the world, she still had to show off a little bit. ]

II. Pre-Burning - Achamoth - OTA

[ Achamoth was heavily defended. Estinien would be distracting most of the guards, but while Syr had offered to fulfill some roles, Akua had her own to fulfill. She'd slipped into the city in the way she knew how -- she was no human when she flew, but simply a bird, a black swan. She flew high, outside of the range of the city's defenses when she worked to pass the walls, but once in, she dove, and stuck to the rooftops, looking over the area where the... event would happen.

She wasn't the rescue team, but she was to be the distraction. Akua didn't need that part, to attack them directly, but she would run interference.

When the event started -- the procession, the entire... spectacle of it all, she was struck again by how she... actually admired the Regent's devotion to truly pushing Villany forward. If it weren't for the destroying all of reality... she would be at their side, she knew it. It was bold, it was vibrant, the people swayed for them more than Praesi had ever done for the Dread Emperor.

It was admirable.

Again, too bad about the dealbreaker.

Akua sat on the edge of a building, for some time as a swan, but eventually, when things looked to be escalating -- the sky shimmering and bright, she slowly shifted, her body lacked feathers, and instead became a vision, legs crossed as she sat above the square. With her breastplate on, she looked ready for battle -- albeit one where she wouldn't be hit in the chest -- and her lips peeled into a grin, as she looked down at them all.

She wanted to see how it happened, but she was looking, waiting.

She also wasn't very hidden, by now, if someone just looked up. ]

During the Rescue - Closed to Sebastian

[ She was seated above the entire procession, watching it. She'd already shifted back to her human form, so she was hardly difficult to point out. Between the read dress, breast (literally) plate, and the sharp, almost anticipatory smile, she was difficult to miss. She hadn't really devoted herself to being hidden, once she was certain the events were kicking up. Fighting was starting to break out, and Akua was looking forward to it. She stood, no weapon in hand, as she surveyed the field.

She wasn't going to fight just anybody, no. Howl would have drawn her attention, of course -- she desired a rematch with the man -- but more than that, any Kenoma who was either displaying sufficient power, or who had caught her attention would do. The people -- the crowd -- was starting to disperse, as Aions emerged from wherever they were -- the sky shimmering and vibrant in its glowing light, and Akua almost shies away from it herself, a reflex from too many years trying to blot Light out with Night.

She descended -- not as a swan but as a human -- it's a simple weave to make, to slow ones fall, and she barely blinks to do so, as her feet touch the ground, it's with a soft tap-tap that she steps forward, looking for a fight. ]

[ ooc; If you would like your own starter, please hit me up! Ping me on the Disc, PM me, Plurk or my plotting post are all open! ]

[cutlery]

[ He was here to watch, not because he particularly cared, but he knew his role. This is where the Pleroma would be gathering, and even for their shared connection to the abyss, not everyone exactly had the stomach for watching people be burned alive. That was to say nothing of the particular connection that quite a few people seemed to have to the pair. So a silent guard duty it was as another face in the crowd. The other Pleroma largely didn't know his face and certainly didn't know his ability, so he was as good a defense as any. When the sky splits, he does shield his eyes from the light, though only briefly.

Well, to work, then.

The crowd starts to disperse, and Sebastian mills generally with the crowd for cover, since he's also searching. It doesn't take long, since he recognizes a face making quite the entrance.

Akua's entrance is one he can objectively appreciate in its easy grace, since he's fond of such things himself. Were it different circumstances, it would have been nice to engage properly and tease out a little more information about her, but ah, well. The threat that she had posed was made clear enough, and it was one that he was particularly well-suited to face. If she favored fire, then a creature of hell was no better match. But first, he might as well go with something simple.

There's nothing particularly showy about how he suddenly moves out of the crowd he had been hiding in, just a gentle push past one shoulder to the edge, and then his eyes come alight as he taps into the speed that's very much inhuman. That sudden flash of red may well be her only warning before the distance between them is rapidly closed. It's not the full speed he's used to (for the best—she wouldn't survive it), but it's as fast as Horos seems willing to allow. It seems like a direct attack at first, but as she might defend forward, he easily slips slightly to the side and swings the unshowy combat knife in his hand up towards not just her neck, but quite precisely aimed for her artery. ]

Syrlya | Champion | Pleroma

[chronosynthesis]

((These are for closed prompts! If we haven't planned something and you would like too, you can hit me up on the plotting post, monochromic, or game discord!

NOTE: his PvP card is very full so I won't be taking more fight threads.))

Childe

[chronosynthesis]

[Achamoth is as ominous as he expected. As the Pleroma start coming through the portal, Syrlya decides to take the minute they congregate to survey the walls. An invisibility spell helps him get down from the portal and closer to the area, but he can't hold it forever so once he has a chance, he ducks under the cover of a tree and drops the spell.

There's definitely guards milling about, just visible along the upper edge and through the recesses which must be holding siege equipment. He had been hoping they would be less prepared to handle aerial threats, given the lack of airships...]

Ryunosuke | Pleroma | Champion

[locumstudentesquire]

[closed starters incoming]

What's with this sassy lost child? (Mordred)

[locumstudentesquire]

Things were already frantic, but it's pretty safe to say that things get downright chaotic when Estinien takes off. Crowds of Achamites running in numerous directions, the other Pleroma surging deeper into the city against the crowd... It's no surprise he winds up getting briefly separated.

Thanks to Meteion's insider info, he at least has an idea of where he needs to go... But a lone Pleroma in the heart of the Regent's empire is not really something Ryunosuke wants to be. He's tense as he hurries along, keeping his true sight activated to help keep an eye out for any approaching aions, friend or foe alike.... Though he's not even concerned about reuniting with the group at this point; they all have the same destination, after all.

The only thing that matters to him right now is getting to Abel and Himeka in time.

Tsunami | Champion | Pleroma

[wavetrain]

i. before the raid (for pleroma)

Tsunami paces restlessly back and forth, like a caged tiger. She wishes she knew this place better, that she had more of an idea of what to expect from both her enemies and her allies, so that she could calm herself down a bit by taking charge of the situation and telling other people what to do. But she doesn't even really know what she's going to do, besides just, fight as hard as she can.

If she notices someone looking at her, she'll stop self-consciously, claws digging into the ground.

"Have you fought these guys before?" she asks. She gives a nervous laugh, although she's definitely trying not to sound nervous. "I listened to the stuff people were saying they could do in the Communion, it's crazy..."


ii. during the raid (for kenoma)

It's much, much easier once it is time to fight. Even with these unfamiliar opponents, this foreign environment, Tsunami knows how to do this. She just has to stand firm for as long as she can. It can't be worse than Kestrel or Queen Scarlet, right...?

Okay... If she's honest... it probably can, and that's exactly what she's worried about. But the time for worrying is well and truly over now. All there is to do now is fight, and it's a relief in the extreme.

She plants herself before the pyre, claws flexing, to try to keep away whatever Kenoma she can who'd interrupt the attempted rescue. Her large blue wings spread out either side of her—both to make herself seem bigger and more intimidating, and to block off a larger area for anyone who tries to get past—and she lets out the loudest roar she can muster.


iii. wildcard
if you want to do something else! let me kno!! you can drop me a line on the discord or on plurk ormery ✌️ also feel free to reply w brackets if you prefer, i'll match format

I

[chronosynthesis]

"I've fought them a few times." Her nervousness is understandable, as he remembers what a shock magic was to her at the beginning. A long list of people who can do magic and may try to kill you is--a lot to take in.

"Certainly they're powerful, but so are we. And you don't have to fight them alone."

Darth Vader / Anakin Skywalker | Pleroma | Sovereign

[heavybreaths]

[Below will be Vader's closed starters for the event. If you would like to thread with Vader, I'd be happy to work something out with you! PvP and Non-PvP are both options, just please reach out to either my Discord at CrossedRoses#9546 or Plurk at intercession.]

Closed for Amos. Big Space Man Fight.

[heavybreaths]

[Vader had expected to see this man near the pyre, defending the ambitions of his master like the cultist he had seemed. Defending the vanguard from a zealot would be as public an opportunity to demonstrate his power as any, and Amos in particular had annoyed him. The information offered by the communion had provided vanishingly little of interest, and certainly no insight into how the man actually fought but Vader was confident he could deal with the man. That should give his fellows the opportunity needed to save the two captives.

His cloak billowing, his boots crunching on the streets of Achamoth he marched out of a cloud of dust kicked up by some of the fighting. His hand raised, the sword Hiccup had forged for him rattled in its sheath and flew into his grip, leveled across the square between them at the big man.

His voice cut through the sounds of fighting, as calm and clipped as ever.]

There you are. I had hoped to run into you again, Amos.

[He continues walking forward, gathering the Force in his mind, preparing to lash out when the time for words is done.]

dextera • pleroma (lover)

[passio]

( adding to the list of closed prompts… if there’s something you’d like to plot, whether it’s for the raid itself or the aftermath, my plotting comment is here! )

for howl.

[passio]

[ there’s not much time. the battle has already begun in earnest, and though dextera will join it soon in defense of his comrades, there’s one person he feels he must address after his conversation with akua. a public execution, this brutal display—howl must feel pained by it, too. he can’t condone this violence. dextera wants to believe that he can sway howl in the middle of the chaos, or if not sway him, at least…

at least make sense of what happened last time. are they truly enemies?

achamoth is a sprawling, frightening city, but dextera manages to find a small alleyway to duck into. with the achamite guards down for the count under the influence of the great beast, it’s easier to hide than dextera would have normally expected. cautiously cradling his shard, he calls out to howl; if nothing else, dextera can hopefully pull him away from a battle he shouldn’t be fighting. ]

I’m here. Please let me see you.

Anduin Wrynn | Pleroma | Sovereign

[bythelight]

During the raid -- Pleroma, get some healing, take a break, or defend him if you like while he works!

The battlefield is not, in truth, Anduin's preferred natural place -- but he has spent more time there than he'd really care to admit. Over the years he keeps being drawn back, as much as he longs for peace.

Peace, it seems, always comes at a cost. The question of how high that cost should be endlessly haunts him.

All battles are the same. People younger than they should be, people who are not soldiers, all fighting alongside and against those more experienced.

People hurt. People dying, all for causes that grow fuzzier and less defined day by day.

Still. This cause, at least, he understands. Burning people on a pyre -- Light, it's such a horrifying display!

He's battered, out of breath, but persevering -- the golden light of his shields keeps rising over people to try and ward them from harm, the whisper of healing reaching out where it can to soothe away injuries and let them press on.

"Stay together!" he calls. He might not be leading this particular battle, but his instincts still have him wanting to strategize. If the enemy splits them up they could be overwhelmed, even with the distinct advantage they have of --

Whatever that creature is. Is it a dragon? It seems like it is, but the structure is different to any he's seen before. Light, it's different to any creature at all he's seen before, and it's -- enormous.

The sight of it is distracting. He needs to focus.

Drawing golden light towards himself he reaches out again, watching people for any sign of someone about to fall.

"This way if you're injured!"

[ Can switch to brackets if you prefer, prose is just my default. My planning comment is here! If you want something more specific than his services as a healer, hit me up and we can work out something custom! ]

Sebastian

[bythelight]

Anduin is tired.

Light, is he tired.

The fight has been raging fiercely for some time now, and his healing spells seem to take more from him than they usually do. Where once the Light slipped from his fingers with little effort, now he seems to have to drag it down with force.

He's tired, and he can feel his frustration turning into anger slowly. The slow chip at his control as the whirl of violence surrounds him, building up until the urge to just stop it by force is nearly overwhelming.

His shield falters and drops and Anduin scans the fight again, catches sight of a dark haired figure moving towards someone he recognised. He snaps out a spell to try and stun them into place a moment, distantly aware that drawing their attention could be a mistake.

He has to try, he has to try.

"You don't need to do this," he tries. "We only came here for our friends, nothing else."

Claude von Riegan | Pleroma | Seeker

[leicesters]

[Closed prompts only will go below! Please hit me up via PM or on the game discord if you'd like to plot anything.]

CLOSED - ATSUMU

[leicesters]

[While largely wanting to stay removed from the heavy fighting and not risk his neck too much, Claude is helping at the execution site a little to help make sure the rescue goes smoothly. He's taken up a sniper position on a second floor balcony overlooking the square, firing arrows at his leisure and ducking behind cover or changing position if he gets spotted.

Most of his targets are Achamite guards who have been roused from their Innocence-induced nonaggression, but he's taking opportunistic shots at Kenoma where he can get them too -- particularly the weaker-looking members of the opposing sect, who are less likely to have any defence against arrows.

When he sees a teenager about his own age enter the square, he hangs fire, but keeps his bowstring pulled taut. The guy don't look like a combatant, but he's probably with the Kenoma all the same. Still, Claude decides to watch for now to see whatever he plans to do.]

( closed ) for GRAY.

[epiprocta]

[ It must be a jarring experience for Gray -- suddenly receiving that prickling sensation through her shard, the indication that someone was attempting to communicate with her. Gen, she might realize upon checking in on that nudge. And the moment she accepts the demand to speak -- ]

We need to talk. [ Gen's voice comes through immediately. No 'hello,' no 'hey,' just that blunt statement. Hoarse, low, demanding. Urgent. His tone of voice conveys volumes already, but the emotional connection forced upon them by Communion makes it clear his words are tinged with anxiety and tension and worry. ] Come here as soon as you can.

[ Before Gray even has a chance to respond, an image flashes into the forefront of her thoughts: a crude diagram of the city remembered off some map that had been shared among the Kenoma before the start of this entire mess. A messy red X is highlighted near Achamoth's borders. The image lingers just long enough for Gray to commit it to memory before melting away like smoke. And then Gen adds brusquely: ]

It's about Eustace.

[ Then the connection cuts.

(Because Gen doesn't want to waste any more time talking. He knows what needs to be done, and he doesn't want to drag it out any longer than absolutely necessary. Even before he'd replaced his shard at his throat he'd resumed his breathless sprint towards that designated location, his precious cargo bundled tight in his jacket and tied to his belt, gently swaying and bumping into his hip with each step.)

When Gray arrives at that promised location, she'll find it's a quiet alley not far from the gates that lead out of Achamoth, in a little alcove hidden from view from the streets. It's away from the bulk of the fighting that's taken over the city, but in circumstances like these, even the quiet afforded to her in that spot can't feel that comforting. ]

[gravings]

[ As preoccupied as she is, the tone of Gen's voice sweeps everything else off her table. If that wasn't enough, there are those words, It's about Eustace, which set off a cold flame of fear in her chest, and with a sharp burst of magical energy, she sets off to meet Gen at the place he showed her.

Even with her strengthening magic to prop her up, it's a struggle to sprint. With one of her eyes covered and much of her body still indistinctly smashed from her fight with the Sanctifier, every step feels unbalanced, sending lances of pain up and down, left and right. But she ignores all that in favor of speed, drawing on her dwindling magical energy to keep herself moving as mindlessly as a machine.

When she finally arrives, she's more out of breath than she's used to being. Her panting sounds loud to her as she navigates the quieter streets on the outskirts of the city, hardly even checking to see what other Aions might be around as she looks for Gen's familiar form.

When he sees her, it will probably be clear that she's had a rough go of things. Though one side of her face is freshly bandaged, it's tinted in blooming pinks, and the dark grays of her cloak around it are black with heavier drying blood. But she's here and standing, and surely that's enough. She gulps in enough air to call out to Gen with a hint of strain. ]

Minegishi...

[gravings]

[ closed prompt(s?) for Gray go here... ]

mordred

[gravings]

[ When Gray regains consciousness from her rubble nap (the rubble was formerly the face of some unfortunate building the Sanctifier flicked her into) she becomes aware of the sounds of fighting, and the colossal shadow of the dragon still raging in the city. Her fellow Kenoma are tiny shapes, but they manage to cause the dragon grief in pieces and parcels, and with a start she sees a large beam erupting from somewhere to slam into the dragon to great effect. Even though she's some distance away, she recognizes the signs of a Noble Phantasm, the grand surge of energy like glory given shape. It isn't a surprise that Mordred would join the fray, but Gray would have liked to witness the power of a Servant on her side for once.

But she can't just lie around like this forever. She drags herself out onto the street and then unsteadily onto her feet, fighting the pain that screams and ripples across her body. When the heavy haze in one of her eyes won't go away, she touches that side of her face and her hand comes away sticky with blood.

She recalls that Liem installed supplies throughout the city, and she limps to the nearest stash she can remember so that she can quickly patch herself up. It takes her more time than she'd like to find it, and when she does, she finds her hands shaky so that she has difficulty fumbling with the supplies. In the meantime, she can hear and see the dragon losing the advantage. All the better; she spends some extra time trying to clean up her face, wondering how she must look yet making no effort to find a mirror.

She awkwardly wraps her head in bandages, and with the extent of her injuries they end up over half her face. It's a haphazard job, but when she puts her hood up she figures it covers most of the mess. There's no time to fuss about it. She rises painfully to her feet to see how the city is faring. ]