Unfinished Library Mod & NPC Account (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
libraryassistants) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
unfinishedlibrary2026-02-25 09:16 am
libraryassistants) wrote in unfinishedlibrary2026-02-25 09:16 am
rumour doth double, like the voice and echo, the numbers of the feared.
Who: Readers and Actors!
What: The aftermath of the Masquerade Night, the discovery of bad faith actors, and the repercussions of mischief. And the answer to a burning question: if all of Montica’s vampires were at the ball, who exactly was picking fights with werewolves out on the streets?
When: The week following the Masquerade, including the morning after the ball. [ooc timeline: 24th Feb - 13th March]
Where: The city of Montica, the sewers, and the woods on the outskirts of town.
Content warnings: Some bloodiness can be assumed, but please note specific content warnings in your tags. If your description of blood/violence will be more than a passing mention, give a heads up.
Due to the malleable nature of time, it will be the Waxing Gibbous Moon for a few days longer. The Full Moon has been postponed until Log 4.
Rumours are strange things. Some spring from nowhere, popping up like weeds through concrete. Others worm their way up from fragments of truth, growing wildly and twisting the reality at their core.
Like its loyalties, Montica is split into two (–arguably three) schools of rumours following the night of the ball. The gossip flows easily and steadily, and is just as often as wrong as it is right.
But there are two things to keep in mind with this kind of gossip:
The first is that it doesn’t matter if it’s right. Some things just stick. Whatever makes a good story is what will hang around.
And the second thing? Sometimes, it is true.
The first set of rumours are from the high-class in Montica. There's gossip aplenty around anyone who managed to speak to any of the vampiric elite, and those foreigners in Montica may find themselves suddenly popular with the families who are trying to climb the social ladder. Then there's the talk about the others at the ball - who drank too much, who snuck into a private room, whose performances were most favoured. In particular, there's a rumour that one of the performers may have a secret twin - though the persisting argument is that she’s just incredibly skilled at quick outfit changes. Those interested in politicking and gossip seem fixated on the idea that certain people seemed rather close at the ball, and they and are keenly interested in confirming who they are. If the speculation turns out to be true, then maybe there really is hope for a peaceful resolution to Montica’s feud.
But not all rumours are so hopeful.
There are those whose homes were targeted while they were dancing the night away. Frustration and anger drives their accusations and desire to find who exactly vandalised their homes - though more than a few of them are confused by the faint burn marks and charcoal left behind that appear vaguely garlic-shaped. Gossip here seems to range between vitriolic (those determined to hunt down the perpetrators) and the cautious (those who found evidence of someone having intervened). But they are closely aligned in their thoughts: they want retribution or revenge for the slights against them.
In the quiet of the neutral zone, it seems some keen-eyed witnesses saw at least one blood-covered guest wandering the streets in a daze. Whispers abound about whether the vampires mean to hold to their pacts, and the neutral population of Montica seem to be experiencing some sort of renewal of their religious beliefs - if the sudden increase of crucifixes is anything to go by.
Likewise, there are not-so-hushed whispers that the vampires were not the only ones taking a bite last night. There are accusations that the coming full moon will bring with it some brand-new transformations, unless those bitten can get their hands on the remedy for lycanthropy. With the full moon looming close, they don’t have much time at all to find one.
An even darker rumour weaves throughout these. There are people who haven’t been seen since that night. The morning after the ball, it’s assumed that they’re holed up somewhere with a hangover. But by the third day after the festivities, the grapevine is convinced they’ve been kidnapped - or worse.
Shops in the neutral zone seem to be on high alert, the people there seemingly less willing than usual to keep their stalls open past sunset. The usual bustle of the market is subdued, and as the week drags on, more and more citizens seem to take to carrying protective measures against both the lycans and the vampires.
There's a murmur throughout the populace. Mythical creatures have been sighted, among them a Nue - and there are some who are making their concerns about this well-known. If something isn't done to calm their fears, the threat of revolution is clear.
Of course, there’s damage to both sides as well. Garlic has mysteriously found its way into the vampires’ district, causing discomfort to many as they try to root it out, while the Guildulf household has seen better days, made all the more potent by their leader’s injury. There is an opportunity in this: the people could work together and help each other out, and prioritizing the neutral district would go a long way in helping mend fences (metaphorical and literal). But is there the incentive to do so? Especially since…
However, the city isn't strictly under Umbran control - and there are some who balk at the idea of leaving the search to them. Particularly around the Laurelthirst, some hardy werewolves are rounding up a crew of tough adventurers to strike out in their own search party. They intend to strike out into the woods that surround Montica, and since they aren’t hampered by daylight, they’re determined to head out the moment they have enough people.
Of all the visitors to Montica, not a few of them are adventurers themselves. Parties are being formed, some of which are determined to track the supposed mythical creatures rather than any missing person. While it’s wise to stick with one of the larger groups, there is nothing stopping anyone from taking a shot at it on their own.
Those who investigate the maze of the sewers in small groups will feel a sense of dread creeping upon them the further they go. Torches splutter and die, leaving them facing just a pair of glowing red eyes. Those who travel in large groups will find… nothing. Only traces of creatures who seem to have scattered at their approach, disappearing quickly into side-passages.
And of all of those people who explore the sewers, those who have pliable minds will find themselves hypnotised. Perhaps they’re about to become food, or be turned into a vampire themselves. Perhaps they’re being given orders to turn against each-other, or are being lured to the woods. Either way, they’ve had the misfortune of stumbling into a vampiric vanguard - a group of scouts skilled in mind games and illusions, who are more than determined to clear a way past that very blocked door.
Some determined trackers are keen to set up a camp for the night and see it through. Others plead caution and turn back to the city - though anyone trying to leave won’t get far from the fireside before a feeling of being watched sets in. The further they go, the more likely it is that the feeling of being watched very quickly turns to the feeling of being hunted.
More bats than owls seem to live here. They hang from every tree, their eyes seeming to glow under the moonlight. And they seem… hungry.
At night, any solo travelers will be quickly swarmed by bats, their leathery wings and sharp claws striking recklessly as they dive onto their target. Some with incredible aim may even latch tiny fangs onto exposed skin, leaving bite marks that will bleed profusely despite the small size of the wounds. It seems it's better to stay with the group for now, unless someone can come up with a plan.
What: The aftermath of the Masquerade Night, the discovery of bad faith actors, and the repercussions of mischief. And the answer to a burning question: if all of Montica’s vampires were at the ball, who exactly was picking fights with werewolves out on the streets?
When: The week following the Masquerade, including the morning after the ball. [ooc timeline: 24th Feb - 13th March]
Where: The city of Montica, the sewers, and the woods on the outskirts of town.
Content warnings: Some bloodiness can be assumed, but please note specific content warnings in your tags. If your description of blood/violence will be more than a passing mention, give a heads up.
Due to the malleable nature of time, it will be the Waxing Gibbous Moon for a few days longer. The Full Moon has been postponed until Log 4.
Rumours are strange things. Some spring from nowhere, popping up like weeds through concrete. Others worm their way up from fragments of truth, growing wildly and twisting the reality at their core.
Like its loyalties, Montica is split into two (–arguably three) schools of rumours following the night of the ball. The gossip flows easily and steadily, and is just as often as wrong as it is right.
But there are two things to keep in mind with this kind of gossip:
The first is that it doesn’t matter if it’s right. Some things just stick. Whatever makes a good story is what will hang around.
And the second thing? Sometimes, it is true.
The first set of rumours are from the high-class in Montica. There's gossip aplenty around anyone who managed to speak to any of the vampiric elite, and those foreigners in Montica may find themselves suddenly popular with the families who are trying to climb the social ladder. Then there's the talk about the others at the ball - who drank too much, who snuck into a private room, whose performances were most favoured. In particular, there's a rumour that one of the performers may have a secret twin - though the persisting argument is that she’s just incredibly skilled at quick outfit changes. Those interested in politicking and gossip seem fixated on the idea that certain people seemed rather close at the ball, and they and are keenly interested in confirming who they are. If the speculation turns out to be true, then maybe there really is hope for a peaceful resolution to Montica’s feud.
But not all rumours are so hopeful.
There are those whose homes were targeted while they were dancing the night away. Frustration and anger drives their accusations and desire to find who exactly vandalised their homes - though more than a few of them are confused by the faint burn marks and charcoal left behind that appear vaguely garlic-shaped. Gossip here seems to range between vitriolic (those determined to hunt down the perpetrators) and the cautious (those who found evidence of someone having intervened). But they are closely aligned in their thoughts: they want retribution or revenge for the slights against them.
In the quiet of the neutral zone, it seems some keen-eyed witnesses saw at least one blood-covered guest wandering the streets in a daze. Whispers abound about whether the vampires mean to hold to their pacts, and the neutral population of Montica seem to be experiencing some sort of renewal of their religious beliefs - if the sudden increase of crucifixes is anything to go by.
Likewise, there are not-so-hushed whispers that the vampires were not the only ones taking a bite last night. There are accusations that the coming full moon will bring with it some brand-new transformations, unless those bitten can get their hands on the remedy for lycanthropy. With the full moon looming close, they don’t have much time at all to find one.
An even darker rumour weaves throughout these. There are people who haven’t been seen since that night. The morning after the ball, it’s assumed that they’re holed up somewhere with a hangover. But by the third day after the festivities, the grapevine is convinced they’ve been kidnapped - or worse.
Shops in the neutral zone seem to be on high alert, the people there seemingly less willing than usual to keep their stalls open past sunset. The usual bustle of the market is subdued, and as the week drags on, more and more citizens seem to take to carrying protective measures against both the lycans and the vampires.
There's a murmur throughout the populace. Mythical creatures have been sighted, among them a Nue - and there are some who are making their concerns about this well-known. If something isn't done to calm their fears, the threat of revolution is clear.
In Town
After the Masquerade, the town is much more of a wreck than it was before. Unsurprisingly, the neutral zone has taken the worst of it; fences smashed, doors busted in, windows broken… few hurt, thankfully, but most of its residents are angry with both the vampires and the werewolves. The youthful wolves may have been the most visible, but there are claims that the vampires were out in force last night; and more than a handful of citizens are insistent that they saw people hypnotised – wandering away into the woods, heedless of the chaos around them.Of course, there’s damage to both sides as well. Garlic has mysteriously found its way into the vampires’ district, causing discomfort to many as they try to root it out, while the Guildulf household has seen better days, made all the more potent by their leader’s injury. There is an opportunity in this: the people could work together and help each other out, and prioritizing the neutral district would go a long way in helping mend fences (metaphorical and literal). But is there the incentive to do so? Especially since…
Missing Persons
The rumour is so convincing that a few harried-looking servants of the Umbra Clan can be seen in town, posting up flyers that seek information on the missing persons. Those with information are encouraged to attend an audience with the Umbra to relay it directly and join their city-based investigation. (Rumour has it that there’s something suspicious happening in the sewers - in the days leading up to the vampiric investigation, manholes and sewer gates will be receiving a greater amount of cautious side-eyes from the populace.)However, the city isn't strictly under Umbran control - and there are some who balk at the idea of leaving the search to them. Particularly around the Laurelthirst, some hardy werewolves are rounding up a crew of tough adventurers to strike out in their own search party. They intend to strike out into the woods that surround Montica, and since they aren’t hampered by daylight, they’re determined to head out the moment they have enough people.
Of all the visitors to Montica, not a few of them are adventurers themselves. Parties are being formed, some of which are determined to track the supposed mythical creatures rather than any missing person. While it’s wise to stick with one of the larger groups, there is nothing stopping anyone from taking a shot at it on their own.
The Sewers
Dank and foul-smelling, it’s exactly what you’d imagine a sewer to be. There are a few surprises down here. The first, as some Readers would know, is a giant of a vampire who has sought refuge down here since the Story’s start. His presence has had the unintended effect of keeping the underground entrance to the Umbra mansion secure up until now. For if you follow the sewers far enough, you find a set of long stairs that eventually leads to a crypt - one that was destroyed a long time ago, only rubble and scattered debris remaining now. The door to the Umbra mansion is made of swollen and rotting wood, held in place by wrought iron bars - and blocked by a heavy slab of stone. It isn’t advertised as being a passage to the Umbra - any text indicating who this crypt used to house appears to have been destroyed with targeted prejudice - but those who have a good sense of space will easily be able to identify where they are.Those who investigate the maze of the sewers in small groups will feel a sense of dread creeping upon them the further they go. Torches splutter and die, leaving them facing just a pair of glowing red eyes. Those who travel in large groups will find… nothing. Only traces of creatures who seem to have scattered at their approach, disappearing quickly into side-passages.
And of all of those people who explore the sewers, those who have pliable minds will find themselves hypnotised. Perhaps they’re about to become food, or be turned into a vampire themselves. Perhaps they’re being given orders to turn against each-other, or are being lured to the woods. Either way, they’ve had the misfortune of stumbling into a vampiric vanguard - a group of scouts skilled in mind games and illusions, who are more than determined to clear a way past that very blocked door.
The Woods
During the day, there are precious few tracks to be found. Trails of human footprints end abruptly amidst thick copses of trees; the scent of spilled blood disappears beneath the carrion of woodland animals. Broken branches are equally likely to be made by deer as they are to be the result of a stumbling person, and as the sun sets, it gets harder and harder to find one’s way.Some determined trackers are keen to set up a camp for the night and see it through. Others plead caution and turn back to the city - though anyone trying to leave won’t get far from the fireside before a feeling of being watched sets in. The further they go, the more likely it is that the feeling of being watched very quickly turns to the feeling of being hunted.
More bats than owls seem to live here. They hang from every tree, their eyes seeming to glow under the moonlight. And they seem… hungry.
At night, any solo travelers will be quickly swarmed by bats, their leathery wings and sharp claws striking recklessly as they dive onto their target. Some with incredible aim may even latch tiny fangs onto exposed skin, leaving bite marks that will bleed profusely despite the small size of the wounds. It seems it's better to stay with the group for now, unless someone can come up with a plan.
MOD QUESTIONS
no subject
no subject
And can they be negotiated with?
Re: MOD QUESTIONS
- Khol of Spirit Sight (rub under eyes, see the invisible)
- Potions of Resolve (will save bonus, basically)
- Dust of Appearance (sprinkle on things to reveal them)
- (inks for) Talismans of Negation (like shinto or taoist talismans, slap on a sigil or enchanted thing to disrupt it)
I assume he can’t make much of each: give me a ballpark of how much he can do in 2-3 days?
no subject
Sewer Cryptid; who hunts the hunters?
But as soon as the sun's rising he's back in the darkness and grime below the city's streets with whatever hapless criminal he'd located in the night dragged with him, save the night of the masquerade where a certain werewolf household kept him too busy to bother with locating a deserving meal.
There are more people down here than usual and he knows it. Much like the first day he'd turned up, the primarch turned vampire is prowling the endless passages on silent bare feet again, ignoring any necessities such as light in doing so. By now he knows the scents of the creatures that belong down here. Investigating concerned citizens are new, suspicious, and ultimately unwelcome.
Newcomers to these dark tunnels means he's no longer coincidentally guarding the path to the Umbra mansion by presence alone.
Those he recognizes, Readers or actors he's encountered before, are not going to get the same greeting of malevolence in the dark; it's not going to be very comfortable at all for strangers, sandwiched between the creeping dread and the feeling of terror in the shadows from opposite directions.
Those he DOES recognize get a short, "You shouldn't be down here."
There's predators EVERYWHERE, where's anyone's sense of self preservation??
no subject
How many hours has it been since this one rested? Probably too long, to judge by the voice, the wandering eyes, the way her head turns. "I have a duty. I swore it in iron: I will bring justice to those responsible for this. Do not worry, I know it is not you. You are accounted for, and we spoke before, besides. But I must continue. You understand, yes?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Did you kill these people.
This is then followed by a list of every known missing person. It can't recreate any drawings, but it includes a short description and any other identifying details.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Burn After Reading, go!
Nero (Nara'a) | Actor: Vampire Scion
Nero had a grand time - for the most part - at the ball. New people, new possibilities... but when he wakes up and hears some of the servants whispering about missing people, he starts to get concerned.
He can be found around the manor, moving between helping to organize the cleanup from the masquerade and quietly waiting as he listens to people gossip. Of course, if he's needed for business he's also easily found.
The rumors are clearly wearing on him, as day by day he starts to look more and more concerned. The loss of people is extremely worrying, and he knows that the power the Umbra hold, despite it being more solidified since the ball... it's still so fragile. What can he do? What can be done?
In Town
In the neutral zone, Nero flits about in the dark. He's wearing a dark cloak, though he's aware his features are still recognizable. He's doing his best to hide them, and it helps that people are less likely to be out at night these days.
He has people to check on. He has places to check on. He stays away from the werewolf side of the neutral zone, but those places that he's aware of he keeps checking. Not just once, but a few times - in these days it helps to be doubly or triply sure. He sits in dark areas, listening to the chatter...
He needs to find out what's going on. He's been told to, but there's just so much ground to cover. He needs to tap his contacts - or maybe come across some new ones.
The Guildulf Manor (later in the week) (closed to those who would be there)
He shouldn't be here. He really shouldn't be in this part of the city. He's lucky that he's young, that a lot of the old weaknesses haven't struck him yet. Even still, he's very uncomfortable as he travels through the werewolf part of town. The garlic everywhere makes him feel vaguely ill, and he's glad he got directions from someone else. A few coins can get someone to ignore his red eyes, after all. And besides, what sane vampire would risk it?
He can't fly or turn into bats yet, not at his age. But he does have the spells that Lucas has been teaching him, so he's a little more comfortable as he approaches the home. He's heard the rumors, and the scent of blood still lingers in the damaged house. He shakes his head, straightening up and trying to look more confident than he feels at the moment.
The guards at the front growl at him, but when he pulls his cloak's hood back he gets some Looks. When he says his name he gets even more.
He's escorted inside and stands around a little awkwardly. Hopefully this goes well, because his sire will have his head if he knows what he's doing...
Wildcard
[Got another idea? Grab me at my plotting comment, on the Discord, or on Plurk!]
manor!
"Oh! You're the gray-laurie! Welcome. I'm Jadis Akabane. I kn- hoped you'd come."
Jadis is a known figure. The Guildulf's "pet witch" she is known one, for her loyalty and much-gossiped-about connection to the head of the house, two, for her generosity and discretion when it comes to the sensitive medical issues of just about anyone in her outings into the city, and three, for being odd, to put it politely. A recovering madwoman.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Manor
He drops the lumber he is holding to cross over to Nero. "You meet us at a disadvantage. This is not the hospitality you showed the other night."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Manor
He also remains outside, while Nero speaks to the people inside. But when Nero leaves, he'll find that some things are...different.
Loic is still there. Loic still stares intently at him. But now, he's in human form. He's also holding a shovel. (Likely this is why he's in human form.)
The shovel is held ominously before Nero.
Loic trusts that Nero gets the message.
(no subject)
(no subject)
Guildulf Manor
So of course, of course now is when --
"Who?"
"The young Lord Nero Umbra, Lord Guildulf."
Sure. Why not. This may as well happen. Roberte takes a fortifying breath, sitting up and rubbing his face. Throne. Moon. How a man's life can take so many twists and turns in less than a month...
"Send him in. Let's see what he has to say."
At his word, the young vampire lord is escorted inside, to stand before the profoundly exhausted lord and father of werewolves.
"Young Umbra." His voice, his expression, is stern, but not overtly threatening. Eyes sharp and hackles raised, but not yet growling or baring his teeth. "I hope you do not come to waste my time. I have little of it to spare."
(no subject)
town
Jun Ushiro | Reader (Human... ?)
The young man who's been a frequent sight at the Laurelthirst Pub is still around, still reading books from time to time at a corner table. Unfamiliar people get a bit of a sharp look if they approach, but he's not going to chase anyone out.
He's gotten a new shirt at least, so the wound on his arm is hidden. He needs to figure out where to get something to cure this, but at least it's not really hurting anymore unless he twists his arm the wrong way.
The pub is an easy place to find him if someone is looking for him, but he's not there all the time...
In Town
No, sometimes he's out and about, looking for people and places that he can be helpful. He runs a few messages for shopkeepers, always making sure that they get there in one piece. He doesn't really need the money, but it's helping him get more used to the city.
Even with his wound he can still go near the vampires' homes (if he ignores the deep itch on his arm), so finding him on either side of town isn't hard. Besides, he's a little hesitant to head out at night now, given what happened the last time.
Sometimes though he's not on the job at all... but he is listening as he walks, no matter what the situation is. Occasionally he'll get too into listening and bump into someone.
"Ah - oh..."
The Hunter Household (closed to Amalia)
Jun doesn't want to do this, given what happened... but he heads towards Amalia's home with a little bit of direction. He does have her card still, so he uses that to check that he's at the right place.
... Huh. She was right. No running water, though he still doesn't know the significance of that. Whatever. He goes up to the door and knocks on it, ignoring the fact that he probably has no backup in case things go wrong given... the situation with Lily.
Doesn't matter. He's not a coward. "Amalia?"
Wildcard
[Got another idea? Grab me at my plotting comment, on the Discord, or on Plurk!]
The Hunter Household
It's one of these who answers the door, regarding the adolescent with some suspicion until she sees the bite mark.
Lily, thankfully, is supplying June information. Say you're here to see Amalia Hunter, specifically, and ask if she is at home, and supply the card.
When this is done, the lady guard nods. "Come, then. We'll take you to the young mistress."
Amalia is taking her at-home hours in the solar today, clearly still tired from working almost to the dawn on coordinating the defense of the squares around the Laurelthirst and putting halt to the worst of the rioting. "Mistress Amalia, one is here with a bite."
"Ah. Of course. Take a moment, I shall be--" Suddenly, her face turns to concern as she realizes who it is. "June?"
Never has she been so glad to have visited the Guidulf with the dawn.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
The Kidnapping Victim | Illarion | Reader (cw: vampire shenanigans, depression, suicidality)
Which is remarkable, all things considered, given he hadn't felt much of anything since he first died. What bitter irony to find out that the human shape he'd -- felt? known? -- he'd had for months was alive and perfectly capable of all the emotions he'd lost, only to give it up again for undeath within a day.
It was -- stupid, almost, the chain of events that led him from the Umbra Ball to a vampire's embrace. From keeping largely uninvolved with Montica's problems to skulking around with the hidden antagonists trying to stoke its uneasy supernatural factions back to open war. He'd left the ball strangely discontent, boiling over with the need to pick a fight, hurt or destroy or be hurt, and -- one thing leading into another -- ended up in his human shape, stunned senseless by actually feeling again and ripe to be hypnotized and dragged off into the woods.
From there, it simply seemed -- natural -- in the throes of depression and shell-shock and horror to comply with his captors, eagerly. To give them the impression he was trustworthy, and soak them for whatever information they'd give. To meekly assent when they offered to turn him, and -- dying again hadn't been so horrible that time. (It quieted the chaos in his head. A little. And he could always go back to what he'd had -- )
While his fellow Editors might not have known he was around, or been keeping tabs on him, his disappearance hasn't gone unnoticed -- someone holding the Umbra purse strings noticed that one of their performers hadn't picked up his pay, and hadn't been seen since the night of the ball. There might be some problem of linking Illarion to that particular missing person report: The Umbra Clan only has a description and a nickname ("Magpie") to go on, and his human-turned-vampire-again shape has the bones but not the colors of the golden-eyed stranger who'd sung so plaintively at the ball. The clothes -- black, from head to toe, and veiled, decked in costume gold that's grown tarnished with sewer grime -- are more recognizable.
And they help him cling to the shadows as he follows the clan he's pretended -- at great cost -- to join, feeding them terrible rumors of the monster in the sewers (mind-reading, world-reaving) and listening to anything they'll give him. Eventually, he'll take what he's learned and make his way back to the Umbra, or the Guildulf, or someone interested in the city's peace -- and tell them everything.
Or choose his moment to sabotage the Orlock Clan's efforts, whatever the cost to himself.
But he isn't feeling well. And staying in this particular variety of self-chosen, self-imposed misery might be better than dealing with how and why he chose it.
(Somebody will remind him of his actual duty. Hopefully.)
i. encounter - sewers
Given the role he's taken -- quisling, useful fledgling -- with the Orlock, it's only a matter of time before Illarion finds himself involved in one of their "games". He's asked for it, actually -- asked for an opportunity to use his fledgling powers of illusion (and inborn talented for stealth) to stalk and confuse those making forays into the sewers.
They still won't tell them what their aim is there, and why they've got to get past the Night Haunter for it. His apparent knowledge of that worthy -- and expendable status -- are enough that they don't mind putting him at risk on the outskirts of the giant's vampire territory, glad enough to have him both keeping an eye out for the creature and hunting their other foes. Let the fledgling pick off an easy meal or two and reduce the chances the secret (maddening secret!) they're working on is discovered.
Though that's not quite how the story plays out, once he's gotten far enough away from the rest of the clan -- and herded his victim as close to an exit as he can. (Which might not be "very close", if they're strong-willed or resistant or inclined to try and lure him out of the shadows to fight.)
But at some point -- the nearby torches will flicker back to life, the shivering shadows stabilizing, the aura of overwhelming creeping dread dispersing sudden as fog before sun.
"You need to leave," one of the remaining shadows remarks, without much emotion. "Get back to the surface. Now."
ii. encounter - forest
As the Orlock get closer to their objective in the sewers, they play -- whatever it is -- closer to their chest. Their latest fledgling suddenly finds himself kicked out of the sewers after a night and a day's watch-work, told to go distract the hunters in the woods.
He's not any more loyal about doing that duty, either. Should some party of adventurers set up for the night -- away from the clouds of bats -- he might appear at their fire to warn them off with his usual laconic flair:
"Get out. There's not enough of you for this."
ii. rescue
Eventually, the act becomes impossible to sustain -- and Illarion's caught in it, trying to sneak back into the sewers behind another Orlock foray to see what it is they're looking for. It's his mistake for being too obvious about it -- and having no explanation for what he's doing when they catch him.
Not having much love for traitors, whatever their age in the family, the Orlock bind him hand and foot, neck and knee, stuff garlic in his mouth and leave him beneath a grate with a full view of the sky. And the sun, they say, sniggering, a lovely view of the sun at full noon.
It's an hour or two before dawn when they abandon him. Plenty of time to call for help -- if he weren't deep in their territory, someone might even hear and help him -- or shift back to his right shape and slip his bonds.
He doesn't do that. Having failed, it's easier to simply lie where he is and wait for his fate.
It won't be permanent. But it might be quieter, for a little while.
((OOC: one thread for the rescue will be easier! hmu on Discord if you'd like to chat logistics for it.))
rescue
Still, he had gone in wolfshape--this close to the full moon it was easy to shift, and he was returning, padding back along the predawn streets when he smelled...garlic. Lots of it. An offensive amount even to his nose.
The night of the Masquerade, he had smelled garlic, too, from his own kind, the lesser packs, making their moves, attacking anyone they thought was bloodkind, heavily armed with the bulbs.
Not again. The peace was fragile enough. Another night of interspecies violence would doom the entire city. He runs, obvious, large, to get to the bottom of it. He will not let the Appiennes ruin the city.
(ooc) feel free other people to tag in! You see a large wolf heading very determinedly in a direction it's pretty conspicuous.)
Even The Devil May Be Devoured
Even her shadow, Lily, was furious the peace of the center was broken, but in the end, before the end of the night, she had snuck off again.
All her ambition now is in taking advantage of this situation. If she can come out of this looking like a better ruler than Roberte, then...
Well. Then she can wear him down, yet.
And as for the spectres haunting the edges of town, they will get theirs in the bargain.
If they come to her city and make noises of blood and fury, then she will show them blood, blood indeed, more yet blood than they bargained for.
Might as well, in fact, bleed them dry.
A: Obsessed with the World Held In Your Hand
For she who needs no spur but ambition, the attack on the structures of her ambition have made her livid indeed, and this anger is serving her well as she works to assure both high-born and low that justice would be found.
Her quiet fury, stoked by the exhaustion of a hunt, comes through as she holds audience outside the Rosewall.
"I cannot promise you will be made whole and entire by them, but you will be made whole. Even now I seek their throats, and even then, I halted their terrors as best as one woman can be expected."
But under that, is an undercurrent of a personal matter that must be dealt with. Lily, presumably, sleeps in her host body, Iris, at the Laurelthirst--
Add in that she has broken out the chests of her largesse, and she hopes with these next few days to calm the fires of the people and destroy those responsible.
B: Learning to Tame a Monster (Closed to Claire + the Laurelthirst crew.)
And beneath that, a fateful personal meeting a little later, means she must speak with the Blood Moon Troupe immediately.
She has no spur, but there exist a hundred hundred things which could advance her ambition... but only one which could, truly, destroy it at a breath.
"There are two things we must manage: capturing Lily, and dealing with these external interlopers. I will eat air and ambition if I must, and use naught but the wood of my desk as a pillow, but I will, at the least, see my way to both of these."
C: Such insincere good-byes
Deep in the sewers, her search yet continues, and she carries sharpened blades of ash-wood and a fury heretofore unseen. She knows every inch of these sewers, more than any other, certainly more than any Orlock.
Mayhap you've gotten into a spot of bother? If so, she may save you... Or yet run afoul of you.
D: I can step, step, step, and fly where you will
[[or, if it please, message me at
B -like, zoinks, bloom
“There is… I think I have a way to draw them out, but. Hear it out to the end.”
And she puts her folio with Like Thee on the table.
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
Re: B -like, zoinks, bloom
c bc uh....reasons?
Re: c bc uh....reasons?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
To say Lucas Azuresky of the non-Clan Tremere is wroth with the news of kidnappings and dazed migrations into danger is understatement, though his anger burns cold.
Curiously, his first step is to dutifully attend to his role in the House Umbral - to mix potions and unguents, to teach Nero and his guard particular spells. The opening of the third eye by means of daubing under the other two with specially treated khol; to steel resolve against unnatural influence: to call wind and running water to slow projectiles or hostile vampires; to unweave extant enchantments, nullifying their effects.
He insists on joining any expeditions into the crypts or woods searching for answers, and will search with third eye open, the other two black and glittering with motes of the Breath coming from reflected magic.
II - The Neutral Zone
Likewise, he or letters marked with a sigil meaning “light” may find their way to trustworthy sorts in the Laurelthirst or the Roseland Theatre. Given tacit permission to aid certain individuals into finding their lost kin, he is there to pass on information… and his potions of willpower, dust of appearance, healing draughts, countermagic talismans.
He has few of these, to be given out sparingly and wisely.
III
If you want him, find him, come and surprise him. He swings for the light.
I
"My friend, I know you are concerned - I am, as well. But you must rest. Please. I am concerned you will work yourself to a second death."
Re: I
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
Re: II
I
Re: I
Re: I
Re: I
Re: I
II
Re: II
John Smith
John is nervous to say the least, he's closed his clock repair shop and only goes out to get food. On this time out he hears the rumors, "Why can't we all be friends?" He wonders to himself.
Wild card
Have something you like to do? Let's plot!
Re: John Smith
“Good morrow, John,” Lucas says, cordial but tense. “I suppose it’s too late to commission you? Not that I blame you, given… what my Clan failed to prevent.”
He sighs.
“What a… damned tragedy,” he says, holding back stronger.
Murderbot | Reader
After that night where everything went to shit, SecUnit had returned back to Illumination's abandoned building. It knew the defences there were reasonably solid (or at least, as much as they could be in a settlement that didn't have decent fucking security systems), thanks to both drones and Illumination's bullshit abilities.
But even so, it was feeling...nervous. Paranoid. So it spent a number of hours double-checking all of the defences. Testing them, making sure there weren't any holes.
And if anyone decided to pay a visit to the hideout during all of this, it went intercepted them before they could even think about getting inside, and loomed at them. Ominously.
ii. The perils of attending the theatre
Outside of the hideout, SecUnit spent most of its time in the neutral area, patrolling. But sometimes it ended up near the Blood Moon Troupe's theatre. Just, you know, by complete coincidence.
(Okay, it was not coincidence. It was intentionally charting its patrols to go nearby.)
The thing was, it had these two tickets. And it wanted to see the show. This place didn't have a feed, so it hadn't been able to download any media at all. The theatre was the only media it could get here.
But theatres had...audiences. Physical audiences, who were actually there, not just observers in the feed. And it was one thing to see a live performance on Preservation, with its humans, who could safely surround it and make sure no one would touch it. It was another thing to see a live performance alone, surrounded by strange humans and sentient organic beings.
Yeah, no. It'll just send a drone, and watch its inputs.
(...But then what the hell was it supposed to do with these two tickets?)
iii. Checking in on the Guidulf mansion [Locked to Jadis]
So, it was a while before it could send a drone to check in on the Guidulf residence. It had been busy, okay.
But once it was there, well. SecUnit knows what the site of a bloodbath looks like. It's clear that something happened here.
(It hadn't been defending this place. It had been too busy trying to keep the humans in the neutral area safe, too busy trying to keep watch over a whole district. And so it had missed all of this. Fuck.)
The drone flies through the mansion, taking note of every single sign of violence. Until it finds Jadis.
This time, it's not hiding. In fact, it hovers right in front of her face. Is she okay?
iv. Into the woods [locked to Rakia]
Yeah, the missing humans were a fucking problem.
While it patrolled the streets, its drones had been running search patterns, gathering data. The resulting analysis indicated that this area of the woods was a convergence point for the missing persons; they'd all last been seen at or near here.
Right. So SecUnit would just have to go look.
With seven of its drones flying in formation ahead of it, it moves through the woods. For a while, its search is unremarkable. Then one of the drones alerts on something.
...Wait, him? Ugh.
"What are you doing," it says to Rakia, scowling, as it steps into view. All seven drones stay well out of the Assumed Tentacle Range.
iii
Jadis, having found something that can be added to water such that when it's applied to bloodstains they start foaming as if hit with hydrogen peroxide, has been walking a hallway adding it into buckets. "It will help," she's saying in a weary voice, as the drone zips up in front of her.
She's clearly not at her best. Dried blood and flakes of ash show in what hair isn't covered by a headcloth, her arms are bandaged, her face is pink under a layer of gleaming ointment, she has no eyebrows, and she's moving more stiffly than the last time the pardalote came by. Altogether, it takes her much longer to notice this time. She's trudged to another bucket and dripped in another dose before the little machine catches her eye. "Oh... it's you." She compresses her lips together, a harrowed not-quite-a-smile. "Hello. I thought I saw you, it seemed like you were having a busy night."
This gets her a couple of glances, but Jadis is known for seeing things and the staff have their own problems just now. Still might be better to get out of earshot.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
i.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
iv
(no subject)
Claire Ryland > Claire Ryefield || Actor, & Actor
The Laurelthirst and Roseland has a curious message:
Seeking Actors and Actresses for our latest play, Like Thee, for the roles of:
- A Young Lad, who is no lad at all
- Marigold, the Witch in Amber, a wifwolf heroine and a slayer of dark shadows
- A Veteran of the Starlight Order, commanding our heroines wisely and well; as well as An Armorer of the Starlight Order, forgewise and crafty
- A Chirurgeon and Apothecary of the Starlight Order, offering aid to our heroines: as well as Fury, an antagonistic Witch
- A Diviner, with her messenger pigeons, prone to babble, ally to our heroines; as well as Flame, an antagonistic Witch
This could be your chance at stardom. (Or at least at razzing Claire for the rest of her career as an Editor.)
II - Rehearsal - But (gods, I’m blushing), I may have learned the harpist’s part by ear
Nova squints at the text, takes a deep breath, and recites:
“Aye, I'll bet! Go, find a place to hide,
For this foul creature I will not abide.
To stop those who would do my friend so wrong,
I call upon the power of my Maiden-Song!”
She frowns. “So calling on this grants power over thunder… why?”
Claire grimaces. “I admit, the quintessential powers… are an embellishment, a distinction, to aid the audience in keeping score.”
“Hence Skye,” Nova says, amused.
“Hence Skye, and having slipped the faerie hedge, yes,” Claire sighs.
“And hence Chloe as a vampire, in Emerald, ironically with power over growing things?” Hannah asks.
“Yes, exactly,” Claire says, feeling very tired. “Any other questions about the script or your roles before we resume?”
Well, new Players, are there?
III - Investigation - Upon This Stage, Enter The Witch In Amethyst
Claire is mostly collecting rumors and collating information from theatre goers and those who sought shelter at the Laurelthirst. But at the end of it, with khol under her eyes and a potion of willpower in her, she will brave the woods, sniffing for clues, as well.
IV - At The Laurelthirst - Another round of cordials and small beer would do my sisters fine!
Claire also spends time at the Laurelthirst, eating, resting, playing cards, flirting. She can’t relax, but tries to at least stay sharp, and set a good example for Amalia.
V - Wildcard - I regret that I cannot stay long with thee, my friend
[[Hit me up on Discord @ Talia Elli B or on Plurk,
Roboute Guilliman | "Roberte Guildulf," Werewolf Master
The sun rises. It climbs. There are bodies laid out in Lord Guildulf's courtyard, all wrapped in bloody tarps, all with scraps of parchment pinned to them, bearing the names of the dead.
The lord himself, Roberte Guildulf, has given no thought to image -- he has given every thought to image -- and still bears the same proof of the violence he has suffered. Yes, he has been harassed into wiping the blood from his face and changing into clean clothes, but that's the extent to which he's let himself be made more presentable. Dried blood from the night before still clings to his hair and his hands, and has ruined that previously-clean shirt.
His right arm, the one that Appienne had savaged, has been attended to, and rests in a sling for now. It has been made clear to all of his staff that their lord should not use that arm for a few more days, at least.
(Their lord is not pleased about this.)
He takes all comers to his court. Families, come to take responsibility for their traitorous kin, and bring their bodies home. Werewolves and humans and vampires, any and all with knowledge of the goings on of the recent days, any and all who might request his help, or have help to offer.
He has not slept since the night before the masquerade. It's becoming clear, though, that he's working on borrowed time, and that he will run out, sooner rather than later.
Night.
...he is, though, pulled away from his dealings eventually. He is quite forcefully ordered to bathe and go to bed, and not allowed to leave until the moon has risen quite high in the sky.
He won't admit that he needed the sleep, of course. But at least he did sleep. Now, he washes his face. He dresses in fresh clothes. He drags himself down to the kitchens to grab a plate of whatever food is laying around, and a few mouthfuls of wine straight from the bottle.
And then he is right back to it, back to holding court for whatever men or beasts could not come to see him during the daylight hours. He will keep going until he has done everything that he can possibly do. Or until he is forced to bed once again.
Wildcard.
Or is there something else? Somewhere else he might be sought out? Quite possibly.
night ish
It had been a bone of contention between them before, the hours that Sigwulf keeps, spending many of the hours of dark in his observatory, resting during the day. Staying up and alert all night was second nature to him. Well, third nature, second being the wolfblood.
So when his father awakens, he might find his second child padding silently around the room, in his wolf shape, patrolling between the door and the windows. If there would be another assault, tonight, they would not find the Guildulf patriarch undefended.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Morning
(no subject)
(no subject)
night
(no subject)
(no subject)
Morning/early afternoon post-masquerade
(no subject)
Illumination | Reader