ioduanlogs | [EVENT] RIPPLES ON THE WATER

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[EVENT] RIPPLES ON THE WATER

Characters: All
Date: September 15-30
Location: Aifaran and surrounding areas
Situation: The barrier is displaying increasingly strange behavior.
Warnings/Rating: In individual threads - please remember to warn!

The barrier that surrounds the archipelago is designed to keep the chaos of planes at bay, to safeguard the last great bastion of life in Konryu. The magic that created and sustains the barrier is immense - but not infallible. And a question that few have dared to ask in anything but a hushed whisper now descends upon the city: what if something stronger crawls out of the abyssal dark?

SHIMMER AND SHAKE

All month, the barrier has been markedly more visible than usual with swirls of rainbow color shifting across its surface, giving it the appearance of a giant soap bubble. This happens from time to time, and initially is of no great concern. Researchers prudently keep a close eye on it, recording the barrier's behavior in detail, and everyone carries on.

The first ripple appears at sunset on the 15th, warping the fading colors of the sky and spreading up and across the horizon until it vanishes. There is no outright panic in response - Aifaran is accustomed to strange events - but tension and uncertainty settle in quickly.

The Aisling Tower releases a statement in cooperation with the Ioduan Academy assuring the city that there is no indication that the barrier has weakened appreciably, nor any immediate danger. The best minds the archipelago have to offer are studying this event and advise citizens to avoid speculating about the cause until they know more. Apprehension diminishes some, helped in part by the coordinated efforts of the Tower, the Academy and the Sentry providing a unified front of calm and reassurance. Over the next few days, more ripples interrupt the cloudless skies, and no one can quite tell if the phenomenon is a physical disturbance or if the play of light and shadow merely makes it seem that way. The epicenter of each wave moves erratically, but it doesn't take the keenest of observers to notice they are marching slowly towards Aifaran.

A NIGHTMARE LOOMS

At midday on the 19th, a nightmarish figure of legend becomes visible on the barrier and sends panic through the city. Although never confirmed to be real, nearly everyone recognizes the writhing mass of darkness atop too many spindly legs: the Night Fisher. It towers high enough to be seen for miles outside the city. For half a minute, Aifaran and the surrounding lands are cast in eerie, shifting shadow as the abomination spreads tendrils questing over the barrier. Something beyond the edge of hearing sends a cold shiver down one's spine despite the warm afternoon.

And just as quickly as it arrived, the image disappears and sunlight returns to streets that are hastily emptied. City hall and the Aisling Tower are hounded for answers, while temples are packed by terrified followers seeking guidance and comfort. Hours go by and the skies remain clear. Cautiously, fearfully, people return to their homes.

The following day, researchers report that a swath of coral reef that begins off Shuyul Bay (which Aifaran overlooks) and extends beyond the barrier suddenly and mysteriously died off. Calls for skilled volunteers to help investigate are issued.

WAKING DREAMS

Another strange phenomenon that comes after the Night Fisher's first appearance is what the experts at the Aisling Tower are calling the Dreaming Sickness. Something in the Dreamfolk, and the native inhabitants of Aifaran who are sensitive to the Dreaming will find that they initially have trouble distinguishing dreams from reality. They may feel constantly fatigued and disoriented - with chronic migraines being a staple of the symptoms. As things progress, they will find they can lucid dream, and their dreams may even manifest in reality.

For example, if they were having a nightmare about a giant boot with teeth chasing them? It may just appear down the hall. Having a dream about soaring through the air? Anyone around them may also sprout wings. Fortunately for others, these visions don't manifest much further than a radius of about 30 feet, only last a few minutes, and the harm they can do is negligible at best. Experts at the Tower are unable to find an immediate solution to this problem, though they remind the public that these things tend to resolve themselves after a little while.

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OOC Notes: The Dreaming Sickness is an opt-in event if you do not wish your character to be affected. This log covers the latter half of September and you may post starters dated anywhere in that time period. Have fun!

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Miles shook his head, bewildered. "No, not me, I don't do the magic thing. I might be the least magical person here, and--oh, goddamnit." He reached up to rub his Talent mark on his left shoulder. "So that's what that is, huh? Took me long enough." Not like he'd exactly been trying. He'd been a little busy, and besides, he hadn't wanted to have something else added to his avalanche of abilities, all of which he hated.

Okay, the 'coming back to life' one was pretty useful.

"So...now I can heal people. Fan-tastic." He sighed. "Well...at least it's not something bad, right? How's your arm?"

Valdis arched a brow, but chose to examine her arm instead of commenting right away on his skepticism. The wounds had healed to the same level on both arms. His talent was as good as her own ability, though his used a far less precious resource. Miles didn't sound pleased though.

"Healing is better than destroying," she murmured, "And it feels fine now, thank you." She reached over to grab the knife out of the sand.

This is a terrible spectacle for the Fool to witness, even knowing that his friend is in no real danger from the spectre in front of him. The damage that this sickness has done to his mind is clear enough; the Fool won't turn his back on that.

"You have always belonged to Mordremoth!"

One last straggler fleeing the scene jostles him as he strides forward and goes to his knees at Trahearne's side. "We belong to no one, in this place," he insists determinedly and touches his friend's shoulder, his grip firm. "Whatever our lives were before we were drawn here, those binds can only shackle us if we let them."

An overly simplistic way of looking at things, the Fool knows, and more than a little hypocritical, but if he can at least convince Trahearne to focus on the sound of his voice, rather than the dream of this moment, then he will count his gambit a success.

"I was-" Trahearne stopped short, looking around himself, his expression one of genuine confusion. He was on the table because of the Risen, but not only were that variety of undead not here, it was downright impossible for them to be here at all. Logically, it was easy to tell himself that, but something still seemed wrong. This was the first time he had ever reacted quite so violently to one of his dreams.

Trahearne had very little grace left to muster up as he stepped down off of the table, onto the chair he'd been sitting in, and back to the ground. He snapped up his book and held it in front of himself defensively. It could be used as a weapon, though he knew it wouldn't hold up well to having magic channeled through it. "I was preoccupied," is all he said by way of explanation. "Though now I'm disappointed. None of the saplings brash enough to challenge me to duels ever did it quite so formally."

It's the grip on his shoulder that makes Trahearne jump in surprise. Now the Fool is there at the corner of his vision, and that doesn't make sense, because the Fool had never been in the Maguuma jungle with these terrible things. After all, Trahearne isn't truly asleep, and his mind can't make sense of these two things existing together where they shouldn't be. The Mordrem and the vines shimmer like a mirage, only present for a few seconds longer before fading away completely.

Now it's just the two of them kneeling in an empty street. "Fool?" Trahearne asks, looking more and more bewildered as he takes in the surroundings. "Where did you come from?" He couldn't actually remember what he'd been doing or how he had ended up here, but he certainly remembers the Mordrem. He's still shaking a little as he drops his head into his hands, "By the Pale Tree, it's happened again..."

Trahearne's disorientation does not go unnoticed, but he seemed mostly lucid. Better than Dreamsick and out of control. The retort pulled the corner of a genuine smile out of him, too. Everyone he knows will be displeased if he actually follows up on that invitation.

"Clearly no one ever taught them manners," the vampire quipped, leaving his arms at his sides in contrast to Trahearne's defensiveness. "Though I will applaud whomever encouraged their audacity."

Devin paused to scrutinize Trahearne, then the table so recently surrounded by rotting, frightful illusions. The study was fruitless; no trace remained of the Risen except in Trahearne's mind.

"You do have rather nasty 'preoccupations'. How would you stop them if they became tangible? And I'm not asking for a full accounting of your powers, before you start thinking this is some kind of tactic," he elaborates with a sharp glance. "Needless to say I would rather not have a horde of those things loose in the streets and the only person who knows about them in any detail completely incoherent."

"Oh, some of them come out of their pods with manners. But when they're so young, they have little else but their emotions to guide them." There was a bit more to that story, of course, and a few aspects of it that would require a lot more elaboration. Trahearne was normally happy to explain the details, but what Devin said next derailed his train of thought completely.

"You saw them?" Taken aback, Trahearne looked between him and the table, jaw working soundlessly for a moment before he managed to find his voice again. "The Risen are - they're not as difficult to kill as they seem. Enough damage done to their bodies makes them inanimate. The worst part of it is in their numbers. Anyone that dies at the hands of the Risen becomes one themselves, and I have no reason to believe that anyone in Aifaran would have protection against that."

Trahearne briefly paused before saying, in a weaker tone, "I thought I was dreaming. This can't be happening again."

"I mean, you're not wrong," he said, still looking a little sour. "It's just another log on the fire of things-I-wish-I-didn't-have. Not everyone's excited about magic." He would have been, back before the whole Walrider thing. He just wanted to be normal again, though. No magic, no Walrider. Just Miles, whoever that had been.

"You're not gonna mess with that thing again, are you?"

Creation wasn't always better than destruction, but it generally held more light than darkness. Though, if what Amos had done could be considered 'creation' was up for argument. She picked up the knife and returned it to her belt.

"I'm always messing with weapons," she replied, "This isn't even the only dagger I have on me."

She didn't need to go around armed, but a weapon could be a deterrent, even if she had no intention of using it. She could disarm and neutralize without lethality if she desired.

"But no," she admitted, "I'm not going to stab myself. It would be pointless considering I'm not currently a danger to anyone."

It was only the belief that she was putting the city in danger that had triggered the desire anyway. She was lucky Miles had been nearby.

"Don't think your friend likes me all that much." Raven noticed as the unicorn seemed to grow apprehensive as she approached it and Valdis. She stopped in her tracks, keeping enough distance between herself and the creature.

There was enough on her mind already without pissing off a horse with a very point horn on its forehead.

"I can always just leave."

Valdis glaced over at Raven, ignoring the unicorn for a moment. The creature pawed the ground again, tail swishing with agitation.

"It's not my friend," Valdis replied, "Just a dream...I think."

There weren't unicorns here, and the vivid nature of the animal could only be due to some sort of symbolism that she didn't grasp. Most dreams were symbolic of something, right?

"So there's no need to leave."

"Give yourself a moment to regain your senses. There is no need to rush." The Fool speaks gently, soothingly, and leaves a hand resting against his friend's shoulder as the dream-like phantoms recede around them. The visions had been real enough that the Fool had seen them too, but the only threat they truly posed was to Trahearne's peace of mind.

After a moment, he starts to his feet and offers his hands down to aid Trahearne, should he need it. "Come, let us get you some place where you can sit and recover. The cafe is not far."

Trahearne's breathing is a bit ragged, and he hastily wipes his eyes before taking the Fool's hand, accepting the help back up to his feet. It's soon clear that he needed it; he's as unsteady as a fawn, and likely would take quite a while to make it to the cafe on his own. "Yes, I... I can't be out here. I'm too dangerous." He recalled there being far more people here before the vision of the Mordrem had overtaken him. Trahearne knows it's his fault, but for all of his wandering around the city, he couldn't seem to find a place without people in it.

"It's all true," he adds in a mumble as they start walking. Now that the Fool had seen one of the worst of his nightmares, Trahearne had nothing to gain by acting like it hadn't happened. "Everything it said was true."

Although Devin's expression did not change, he wasn't unsympathetic to Trahearne's plight. The Dreaming had plagued him with the ghosts and monsters of his past on numerous occasions, and every time there was a new incident that affected Dreamfolk he worried it would re-open wounds.

"If I understand correctly what's been happening with this 'Dreamsickness', you were dreaming," Devin told the sylvari. "Just while you're awake and made visible to others."

He quirked a mirthless smile. "Fortunately for you, Trahearne, several of us in this city can't die, or are already dead. The very reason you dislike me may come in handy if the streets are terrorized by marine zombies."

Trahearne muttered to himself, "Dreaming while awake...?" The problem was, how could you possibly protect yourself against such a thing? Was this because he was already so weary? It's with a slight curl of nausea in the pit of his stomach that Trahearne realizes he might even be to blame for this. He wouldn't nearly be asleep on his feet if he hadn't been avoiding slumber like it was a specter chasing after him.

"I- I won't let that happen. I'll seclude myself, or leave the city. The Risen will be directionless and confused without a leader." At least that way, there'd be less damage and less death. If Devin was right, this could be far, far worse than when the Dreaming was pulling memories out of everyone's heads. At least those memories hadn't been able to hurt anyone.

The similarity between Trahearne's instincts and what Devin himself would do in the same situation was not lost on him. Apparently they were even more alike than he'd thought.

"Do yourself a favor and don't be like me," Devin said seriously. "Isolation is one of my tricks, and if there's anything I've learned about this place it's that people will come after you. People will try to help."

He gave a laugh that was hardly more than exhalation. Sometimes, those people even succeeded, for a given measure of success. How many times had he run? "Go tell someone at the Bridge you've been affected or get a friend who isn't sick to do it for you," Devin recommended. "There's no guarantee they'll become tangible, so don't be a fool about it."

Trahearne regarded Devin with a faint frown, but there was something thoughtful in his bleary expression, too. Would someone come after him? It was a possibility, but not a sure one. After all, Trahearne had gotten away with secluding himself before. He wasn't an extremely social person as it was. Perhaps someone would seek him out, but he couldn't say it with the kind of certainty that Devin could.

"I'll consider it," Trahearne finally said, absently tucking the book he was holding under his arm. "For now, I ought to get some rest." He wasn't actually sure if that was the best idea after all, but he wouldn't be able to think through this problem while Devin was distracting him. Trahearne offered him a slight nod before turning to walk back to the entrance of the Dreaming Bridge, his pace a bit slower than usual.

"Is the number of knives you have on you greater or less than five?" he said, deadpan.

"Good. Stabbing yourself would be messy, and I don't know how well this...thing...works." Miles wiggled his fingers, or what was left of them. "So you're not gonna go all Super Saiyan again, yeah?"

Valdis sighed, "I have the one on my belt, one in my left boot and a small one disguised as the charm on my necklace. So less than five."

Her brow furrowed with confusion, "I can self heal, I just...sometimes when my magic is out of control, I can draw it back by...doing that."

Solemn for any conversation.

"I'm afraid I don't know what 'Super Saiyan' means."

"Sure is a shitty way of bringing yourself back to yourself," Miles said, but then again, he really couldn't talk. No matter what he did with the Walrider, it'd end up causing him pain at the end. Stupid nanites.

"Uh. It's from an anime. Forget it." Miles waved his hand, trying to dismiss the topic.

"With magic as potentially devastating as mine," she replied slowly, "It's...necessary."

But it had been nothing more than a waking nightmare, an illusion brought on by the chaos of the planes.

"I should have seen through the illusion," Valdis added bitterly, "I thought I had better control than this."

"It still sounds shitty," Miles said. "Just because something's necessary doesn't mean that it doesn't suck." Killing Billy had been necessary. And in his moral center, it had sucked. Fuck it all. Break it all. He has to die.

Self-preservation outweighed high-handed morality every time. Not that he felt good about it.

"And hey, we all make mistakes. You can't just beat yourself up about something that didn't actually happen. No harm, no foul, right?"

"It's not ideal," she replied softly,"But I'm functionally immortal, it wouldn't have lasted."

Not that it had made it better for anyone else. She had lives to spare, yet her friends didn't seem to understand that.

"I suppose I'm just lucky you were here."

"Hey, so am I, and I've died before, so I can counter the 'not lasting' argument with 'it's really shitty so I try to avoid it if possible'," Miles said dryly. "So I'm on the same page as you, and I can say for a fact that I hate it and I wouldn't want to wish it on someone else, even if they're immortal."

He shook his head. "Yeah, even if you were gonna come back...well, like I said. Dying sucks."

"I've been immortal a bit longer than you, Mr. Upshur," Valdis pointed out. "By a few thousand years actually."

It was the same argument each time. Didn't anyone have a better one?

"I do appreciate your concern for my life, but it's unnecessary."

She stood up, ready to leave this particular spot behind for awhile.

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[EVENT] RIPPLES ON THE WATER

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