epidemiology | EVENT ★ NALAWI INTRO

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EVENT ★ NALAWI INTRO

Recruits leave Oska at midday, with about 10 minutes of final warning given from the jewelry. Then the white mist rises as rifts open, and Oska is left behind. The transition into Nalawi is not a peaceful one. When the mist fades, recruits are immediately hit with a face full of lashing rain and driving wind.

The recruits have arrived in the middle of a nasty storm, but that’s not all that greets them. Seawater surges all around, breaking against -- houses? It’s a little hard to tell at first, in the chaos of the storm. Half of these buildings are made of rock, not carved, but shaped, and the other half seem to be living trees, thin wood and thatch, and a handful of more ornate (and more fragile) material, including clouded glass or obsidian. The stone houses are standing up best to this onslaught of waves, but even they weren’t made for this, and they shudder and crumble in the thrashing storm.

Thin screams can be heard over the wind and water, too. The locals are having some trouble not being washed away. The people here are small bipedal deer, and those hooves were not meant for swimming. They struggle in the water, some of them trying to snag a few precious belongings from drowning houses, some of them not even able to do much more than hang onto some jutting stone or tree. There are a few heroes among them, putting superhuman powers to good use: here a young man hovers in the air, dragging others out of the water and toward safety; there a girl parts the water with careful gestures of her hands, enabling a whole family to dart from their ruined home and run for higher ground. These feats are rare, though, and on the whole most of these natives are in trouble.

They don’t look too stunned to see the new arrivals -- they don’t have time to, and will push roughly past a new arrival to deal with some crisis sooner than stop and stare. They’re mostly just grateful for any offered help, generally seeming terrified and shellshocked by all of this. If any of them are asked what happened, they’ll point with varying degrees of wordlessness toward a high stone wall between the village and the sea, with an enormous gap broken through the middle of it where the sea rushes in. Like many of the houses, this dike was clearly shaped from living stone. But whatever shaped it apparently has no power to maintain it, and this is the storm that had finally taken advantage of that.

This long, dark afternoon provides plenty of tasks: help the Nalawi people evacuate from their ruined village, try to find material to rebuild their shattered (and still crumbling) dike, or take care of the hungry sea creatures that have taken notice that the deer, usually safe on land, are suddenly in easy reach. They look like crabs with too many legs, but each of them is nearly the size of one of the villagers. They’re more than capable of seizing a struggling villager and scuttling back toward the break in the dike to drag their prize into the sea. Their shells are difficult to get through, their pincers terrible and sharp, but their joints and eyes are unprotected and tender.

The storm won’t last forever, though. It blows itself out in a few hours, just in time for a truly beautiful tropical sunset over the western edge of the island. Exhausted locals will finally begin to talk a little more. They’ll explain to their rescuers that the Stone Shapers have all had their Gifts faded out: there’s not a single one left. Without these abilities, the dike was left defenseless against the storm and the water rushed in. Their despondency and resignation suggests this kind of disaster is not new to them. They are, however, very grateful for the help: anyone who lends a hand over the new few days (thankfully sunny and clear) sorting through the wreckage, rebuilding, and setting up new dikes will be given food and shown to the inn for free lodgings.

Welcome to Komo, Nalawi.

OOC INFO

ICly this log will cover the day of arrival and the following few days of recuperating and rebuilding, if you would like to include that in your top level prompts. OOCly it will last until the 26th. New information will be available at that time.

As some quick refreshers, we have our Mission Overview here, which also includes a questions subthread for general questions. For intro event-specific inquiries, please see the comments below. Additionally, be sure to have read the Chantes epilogue as well as the Nalawi: Locations page. Note that we will also have new characters arriving during the event, so be sure to give them a hand!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It's hard out there for ladies used to having handmaidens and people to cook for them and in Sieglinde's case, a manservant to carry them. Still- they adapt. It was either that, or die when it came to ALASTAIR.

With all of the patients who needed immediate treatment seen to, and only the likes of cuts and bruises remaining, Sieglinde has stolen a short break. Normally she was the type to work until a task was finished if it compelled her, but this-

It's not often you get to see your first ocean. She wants to be closer, to touch it and observe it now that the storm is passed and it wasn't trying to fill her lungs and kill her, and though it takes her quite some time to make it there on her own, stumbling and falling multiple times, she still keeps getting up, driven to see it.

When she reaches the beach she's barely aware of anyone else (or their dragon), forgetting herself in the shock and awe of the sight of the sunset reflecting on the infinite seeming water, trying to rush forward to reach it quicker, and-

Instead, an unnaturally tiny heel trips in the unsteady sand, promptly sending her faceplanting into the sand with a muffled whimper.]

[ Somehow, the cry reaches her across the water from where she stands, and Dany turns. There, sprawled upon the shore, lies a young girl. ALASTAIR claims children for its ranks now. The realization angers her, but to a queen who has seen boys as young as ten enslaved, it's scarcely surprising. Gathering her uniform about her, she starts for the beach, the whip dangling harmlessly at her side.

When she reaches Sieglinde, she half-kneels in the sand without regard for the slave's clothing her captors have given her, dropping the whip with a thud. Her hands are extended in aid. ] You are in difficulty, [ she greets, gently. ] What was your intent?

[Sieglinde doesn't mind falling- not really. It was merely a physical thing, and she may have been sheltered all of her life, carried wherever she needed to go, but she could manage skinned palms and bruised knees. It was the reactions she detested, the weakness it showed-

But what can she do? She's half picked herself up by the time Daenerys reaches her, enough to wipe the sand from her face, at least, try to untangle herself from the heavy folds of her still damp gown, staring at the hands offered her...

That she took without hesitation, because she wanted-]

I want to see the ocean-

[It tumbled out in a desperate, innocent rush, squeezing the older woman's hands without meaning to, struggling to stand and get her feet under her and accomplish the tricky task of balancing on shifting sands in delicate shoes a mere three inches long.]

[ The innocence of the desire softens, and Dany laughs. Perhaps Meereen has not hardened her entirely. ]

I understand. [ She loves the sea, has always enjoyed the feeling of being bounded only by the limitless blue sky. In that regard, she hadn't minded feeling small, because she had been free. Once, she had even wanted to be a sailor, but Viserys had responded so cruelly that she'd never voiced her wish again. ] More than you know.

[ And she tugs, providing enough force to lift the girl to her feet. How had she come by a pair that were so small? No wonder she trips. ] Come, [ she invites, offering her arm. ] We shall go there together.

[Though she wants to protest at the laugh, insist she is being serious, her desire sincere, she can't even begin to get the slightest bit angry- and Daenerys' answer mollifies her, anyway.]

You have not seen it before either?

[Even if she hadn't wanted to rely on others, she eagerly clings to the arm offered her, finally managing to stand up again, her balance worse than usual on sand as opposed to solid ground. Thankfully, even with a water-logged gown she's tiny for her size and slight of weight, so even when she stumbles and puts her full weight on Daenerys' arm, it still isn't so terribly much.

But despite accepting her escort, and speaking to her... Sieglinde's eyes haven't actually left the ocean.]

I've seen it. [ Her answer is calm. She makes her steps smaller, daintier, so that her new companion doesn't stumble. ] When I was a little girl, I must have sailed the sea half a hundred times. [ She omits the explanation that until recently, each time she had found herself aboard a ship, it had been to flee from the Usurper's knives--but there is something about children that inspires her to speak more innocently, more sweetly. With a pang, she realizes she misses Missandei. ] Yet it never stops being vast, or wondrous, or else so lovely.

[ They're nearly to the water's edge now, and she pauses, looking down toward the girl. ] How far must we go? Do you wish to feel the water between your toes?

[Half a hundred times... would she tire of something if she did it half a hundred times? It was difficult to imagine it possible, especially now, when the sight is so new and overwhelmingly wondrous. The sunsets of the witch forest could be seen if looking directly up, but they had little in the way of fields, and the towering pines and woods meant even just the sunset itself seemed like the first time she's seen it. At least, the first time to see it so wide and spread out unfettered by branch or trunk.]

I-

[She wanted to do that, but bit her answer back at the last minute, remembering herself. She couldn't just say yes without checking things first.]

It is only salt in the water, is it not?

[She'd read about it, of course, but that was no guarantee necessarily for correctness. Surely a woman who had sailed the oceans so much as that would know firsthand.]

Yes. [ A slight, reassuring pat upon the arm. ] Only salt, and so you must not ever try to drink from it, that's all. I have heard my people name it the poison water for that reason.

[ Her own shoes, ruined though they are from the day's pursuits, have long been toed off farther inland and left to face the setting sun alone. Warm sand cushions her feet the longer she stands, and so she lifts one to touch the water in demonstration, watching as a wave sends the sea to receding from her. ] You see?

[Only salt... well if that's the case, her own soaking solutions contained salt, so surely it would be alright for just a little while- no matter that she'd technically already soaked them in their arrival.

That wasn't a good memory of the ocean at all, and she's rather forget it sooner than later. At the confirmation, she lets go of Daenerys' arm and goes to her hands and knees in the sand, pulling up her damp skirts until she can rearrange how she sits, plopping down on her rear in the sand and extending her thin legs, wrapped in bandages.

It takes her a moment to carefully pull off her small shoes, though she makes no move to to remove the bandaging, revealing feet in a shape achieved by the careful breaking of bones and binding of flesh. Not something she normally showed others... exceptions had to be made for experiences like these.

When the wave came in and lapped at her feet, she marveled at it, even with the sensation dulled by the loss of feeling she experienced in the limbs.]

It is so warm... !

[She ought to have expected that, maybe, but- it delighted her despite.]

[ The wonder prompts a smile. It feels sweet to smile again. Gathering silver-gold hair in her hands, Dany wrings out the remaining excess water and joins the girl, sitting beside her. The whip is left where it fell, and she has no wish to retrieve it. ]

There are frozen seas and smoking seas, and everything else in-between. [ She's only ever sailed the Narrow Sea, but Viserys had once spoken of a frozen one to the north in Westeros. Perhaps one day she will see it. ] I wanted to be a sailor. [ She had always favored the docks for that reason. Black wings temporarily blot out the sun as Drogon sails through the sky. ] I would have sailed and sailed until there were no tales left to tell, but it was not to be.

[ She sees that the tiny feet are attached to small, delicate legs, and she wonders how the girl manages to walk at all. An ailment? She would never guess at such a thing being done for the sake of tradition. Cultured she may be, from her travels to the Free Cities and beyond, but there is still much she hasn't learned. ]

[Smoking seas and Frozen ones... She had read of the varieties in her books, how the further north or south one went the colder it became, until sailing became impossible and it was only ice as far as one could see. Steaming, perhaps that counted as smoking, she had hard of those as well, water that bubbled and frothed, boiled from beneath and heated by the earth...

But seeing it was another thing entirely, wasn't it. Her eyes are wide and fairly sparkling with the joy of a first time wonder, gaze flicking up as the shadow passed over the sun but not getting a good enough look, simply assuming it to be a native species.

It took effort to briefly turn her gaze towards Daenerys, but it was only polite to at least look at the person part of the time, right, her eyes soon returning to that blurry line where sky and sea met.]

What did you become instead?

[As nostalgic as they could be, she'd learned long ago that there wasn't much use in dwelling on the "wanted to" and "could have" sort of thoughts. She'd wanted to be able to skip and run and play, and if she could have just been a little more observant...

Better to think of the present and the future.]

[ What, indeed. A mother of monsters, Dany thinks. A queen of Eroehs and orphaned boys. But that is no tale fit for a child's ears. ]

A queen, [ she says, simply. A queen without a home, or here, without even a crown. A queen without two of her children. ] And a queen to fierce horselords of the Great Grass Sea, before I claimed my city. But that is no true sea.

[ She's silent for a moment, watching for Drogon, shielding her eyes against the strong hues of the sky. It looks as if someone is painting the clouds in fire. ] What of your path? [ she asks, curiously. ] What is it that you do?

A queen?

[Sieglinde had been taking lessons in how to behave when meeting a certain Queen in her own world for some time now, but she... Definitely had done nothing at all right from the moment she'd met this woman if she really was royalty... That didn't bode well, did it. She has a somewhat doubtful, yet somewhat scandalized expression on her face, torn between reactions because she wasn't quite sure if she ought to believe it.

What did one do if one was in front of a Queen but had already disgraced oneself? She was merely a provincial lord in comparison status wise, and that rank had been false the whole time, even if she'd believed it real for a decade... The older woman didn't look like a queen, but then again it was a different world, maybe that's what queens wore there... ?

She barely stopped herself from blurting that out.

But Sieglinde finally makes a decision on how to act at least, trying to adopt a more mature expression, straightening up where she sat and bowing slightly from the waist, pinching the corners of her skirts and holding them up just slightly, unable to stand up or right herself at this point for a proper curtsy like she'd been taught. Better safe than sorry, perhaps.]

I am the Lord of Wolfsschlucht, and the Green Witch. Sieglinde Sullivan is my name. You have my thanks for escorting me, highness.

[Her tutor was no longer among ALASTAIR's ranks, but he's probably be face palming right about now.]

[ She looks nothing like a queen in ALASTAIR rags, with frayed bandages covering up the last vestiges of Drogon's burns on her hands. She has no raiment, no jewels, and no dragons, save for one. Wryly, she smiles at Sieglinde's confusion. Perhaps I should introduce myself as some fishmonger's daughter. No one would be any the wiser. ]

Sieglinde, [ she repeats. That is no name she's ever heard, but that means little. There are many names she hasn't heard here. ] That is a beautiful name, and a lovely curtsy, besides. You needn't stand so long. [ And she pats the sand beside her in invitation. ] I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, Queen of Meereen and Mother of Dragons. [ The highborn girl gets the abbreviated version of her titles only. Too many titles is like wearing too many jewels: Though she wears them when Missandei announces them, she has no wish to speak them all herself. ]

Tell me, [ she asks curiously, ] what manner of witch is a Green Witch? Is it herbs and poultices you require? [ Anything but blood magic. ]

[Despite being trained to meet a Queen, one who ruled an empire, Sieglinde hadn't actually met one before now, so she's a bit relieved that her greeting passed muster- she had no way of knowing if her benefactors' Queen Victoria would be so forgiving, but... It was still encouraging despite. At the urging she settled back down, carefully rearranging her skirts and legs again, smoothing damp fabric over her knees so that as little of the atrophied limbs was exposed as possible, placing her three inch long bandaged excuses for feet back in the sand where the waves would lap only just so.

There were so many titles, but she could infer- a name and moniker, the noble house she was born into, the country she ruled over, and... Dragons? Was that perhaps a metaphor for something? Or real live dragons? She didn't explain her thought process out loud yet, instead fixing Daenerys with an inquiring look focused... On the loin area. Surely it didn't mean... Physically the mother... That sounded painful-]

Ah- [She'd been asked a question, ought to reply,] A Green Witch's magic is used for healing, Highness. Herbs and potions, primarily, but stronger magic and spells as well if the situation calls for it... But we do not dabble in more corrupting arts, you can be sure of that.

[Even without indication of doubt, the legends of the persecution witches faced in the outside world she grew up on meant that she was always eager to explain that she wasn't like other witches, not like the rumors and the whispers spoke of. Even if part of her feared she might be. But she can't help her own question, pointing somewhat indelicately at the older woman's lower half.]

Did you truly mother dragons? Dragons as in- winged reptiles that breathe flame? Creatures of magic?

[She supposed it was theoretically possible but... The implications were quite. Horrifying.]

Good. [ Her tone turns firm. I have seen all that I wish to see of darker magic. Perhaps that would change one day, but not now. Ironically, it had been blood magic that had hatched her dragons; blood magic of her own doing. ] We will have great need of you here, I'm certain.

[ Dany follows the line of pointing, and now she laughs for true. ] They are my children, but not of my body. Three eggs were given to me as a wedding gift, eggs turned to stone by the ages. They were born of my need and my faith in a great fire, [ one I built for my sun-and-stars, ] and now they grow by the day. They are the last of their kind.

[ And so am I.

She looks up at the sky again, her gaze searching. It doesn't surprise her that even at his smaller size, Drogon ranges far. She simply wishes he wouldn't. ] Have you ever seen a dragon, Sieglinde?

[Sieglinde's own expression grew somewhat dark, a look not suited to the face a girl newly twelve years of age, but then again- she'd seen more and done more good and harm both than most twice that in years- but she didn't say that, instead, her gaze fell and moved back out to sea, to the sky threatening to soon end sunset for twilight for nightfall.]

There has been great need for some time now.

[Nearly half a year in this employ, had it truly been so long? How many injured had she healed since then, ALASTAIR members and native population alike, stitching cuts and purifying wounds with potions and reciting spells and laying on hands- they all blurred together, waiting to reappear in nightmares when she couldn't pretend to be strong. She could pretend now, at least- she was in the company of a Queen, and she'd already ruined her first impression, so se had to try-]

No... I was told magical creatures are no longer able to survive well in the outside world- I mean... Outside my village.

[Outside of the cage built just for her, dressed in lies she'd believed a decade long, about magic and witches and werewolves, and all manner of things.]

You don't mean that- here?

[Having imagined a rather gargantuan beast, Sieglinde scanned the skies more urgently, putting up a hand to shield her eyes and squinting to try and pick out movement, unconsciously leaning forward in her eagerness spot something.]

[ Again, Dany smiles. This girl will soften her too much, if she lets her. ] I do mean. [ She rises to her feet then, watching. Soon enough, evenfall will come, and so relocating Drogon must become a priority. ] He is not as he was, [ her expression darkens; ALASTAIR had seen to that, perhaps wisely, ] but he is a dragon all the same. The strongest and fiercest of my three. [ She shades her eyes with her hand. ] We shall see if he is feeling generous.

[ And she calls his name, sweetly to start, and then more strongly. She may have convinced him of her worth as a rider, but Drogon has willfully refused her on all matters but coming to her aid when she calls. My most stubborn, Dany thinks ruefully, her hands cupped about her mouth. When he answers the summons, he appears like a black dot among the clouds at first, growing bigger as he descends toward her. She watches, half in relief, half in admiration, as he glides upon open wings, expanding minimal effort.

As if in defiance of his new stature, he doesn't land, but instead loops in a lazy circle over their heads, a shriek piercing the dusk air, the music of dragons trailing in primordial notes. ]

[A dragon, and a so-called Mother of Dragons... This Queen was far more than she appeared if she could tame such a beast... Was she like St. Martha, and the other figures of legend who had the power to turn creatures in to those willing to listen to the words of man? Sieglinde's eyes were near impossibly wide as she alternated between staring out at the sky and staring at Daenerys herself, until Drogon appeared in her sights and she couldn't take her eyes away.

A dragon.

She couldn't move at first, knees locked, joints tight, almost shaking in excitement and a reasonable hint of cautioned fear both, watching as the dragon grew larger in her sights, as it approached them and circled. Despite her wonder she was also critically observing- wing span, length snout to tail, the shape of its head, the sharpness of class, the hardness by sight of scales-

But finally she could speak, pulled her hands right to her chest and felt her heart thundering there in her breast.]

What fearsome make... What- What a wedding gift!

[She could only hope to receive presents even half as wondrous as that???]

[ Dany knows childlike delight when she sees it. But then she remembers the bones she'd seen from atop her dais, how the father had swayed forlornly as he'd carried the bag. Only Ser Barristan had understood her horror; only they had recognized the bones of a child.

I should never have known that. But she does, and there will be others. ]

There is nothing in any world half so splendid as a dragon. [ Despite the pride in her words, the delivery is free from giddiness, and laced with caution. ] But that is not his true size. With his wings spread, Drogon is five times as wide as I am tall. [ She gestures to him, and he dips to nip at her fingers with sharp teeth, though he doesn't break the skin. ] He will learn to be small again, but he is still proud and dangerous. Dragons are fire made flesh, and so you must never think otherwise, Sieglinde.

[ Her tone is firm. This green witch seems clever, wise beyond her age, and Dany doubts she would ever make the mistake of thinking Drogon some pretty attraction in a cage. But a dragon is still a dragon, and so she warns. ]

[For all her childish wonderment coupled with scientific curiosity, Sieglinde did not move to try and touch or get any closer to the creature on Daenerys' arm. Though she'd been molded since birth to possess an unbridled desire to learn and consume new knowledge, the focus of that knowledge had been poisons corrosive to the lungs and skin of human beings, so she possessed a healthy dose of caution when it came to things that were dangerous when handled.]

ALASTAIR has stunted his growth?

[The size she described definitely seemed more in line with the image of dragons that Sieglinde possessed from the texts she had read in her manor library. To think she had gone from her first sight of the sea to her first sight of a real dragon-]

What does he eat? Does it communicate verbally? What about the fire- is it really created internally?

[Though she knew enough to stay where she was in the sand, knowing that not only should she not suddenly approach an unfamiliar creature but also that such motion would send her crashing back to the ground, she still couldn't help the spill of questions.]

ALASTAIR has stripped away his power, and his freedom. [ The queen frowns, but she finds herself wanting to speak of happier things. Rarely has she seen such joy in anyone, much less in a child. She almost feels as though the girl would be in less danger away from her side, but she's in no position to send her away.

There's a part of her still that treasures innocence, and wishes to see it protected.

Tiring of her attention, Drogon grants them one last circle, one last lofty glance, before he drifts out toward the shallows like a graceful kite. Her hand lowers back to her side, and she conceals a laugh at the stream of questions. ] Meat! [ she chides playfully, as though Sieglinde should have known better. ] Dragons eat meat. Mine prefer to char their food, but for dragons from other worlds, it may be otherwise. He will seek fish and rats and birds at this size. [ Tossing her drying hair over her shoulder, she rejoins Sieglinde in the sand to watch the hunt, crossing her legs at the ankle. ]

He doesn't speak, but I trust him. [ I must. Idly, the dragon slices his wingtips through the surface as he flies, sending seafoam to spraying. ] He understands when I have need of his company, and when I am angry or in danger. [ Daintily, she places her palms behind her in the sand, spreading her fingers for a more relaxed pose. ] He defended me from a foe I could not fight, when he was even smaller than this.

[ She tilts her head, considering the third question. ] The fire is within, though I cannot say how. His eyes have always glowed like that.

[ALASTAIR had stripped all of them of power and freedom. She never forgot that, even if she had to be grateful to the organization for the things it had done for her- for magic, truer than the sort she had been raised to know and do. Still...

Better to speak of dragons. Her cheeks puffed out somewhat irritably, not used to being chided in any way.]

Of course he is carnivorous, but I mean- does he consume any sort of rock or gem? Anything to fuel the combustion process?

[She rest she filed away- he did not communicate as some legends said of dragons able to speak the tongue of humans. But he was loyal- like a hound, then, who could be relied on to defend or know its masters mind?

Her eyes followed Drogon, glad to be able to have her first sight of a dragon blending in with the sight of the sea, which was just as vast as the texts had said.]

[ Definitely better to speak of dragons. Others have tried to tell her it is not so bad, but she only ever accepts bitter realities in her own time, and that is only if she must. ]

No stones. [ A shake of her head accompanies the answer; the analytical standpoint is unfamiliar to her. ] If there is some explanation, it lies in magic. That is what I was told, that with my dragons magic had returned.

[ It must have been gone a long time, then. She still isn't certain how much of that she believes, but Quaithe's claims at least have proven true in several matters. Why should she have lied about that? ]

My forebears commanded a vast empire from atop dragons, and my brother used to say they knew enough to master any dragon in all the world. [ How not, when they'd mastered the rest of the East? ] But their texts are lost to time, I fear.

[ And she's finding she knows precious little, but she isn't about to admit that. Everything she's learned, she's learned through trials. Drogon dives suddenly, and she points across the water. ] Look! Drogon has sighted a fish. Soon he will show us his flames. [ It will be an unusual sight: a plume of black, swirling with red and orange flickers, and gone in seconds. ]

[The disappearance of magic... that had been part of the narrative she'd been fed ever since she was a child (as if she was no longer one). The idea that magic, as humans encroached and spread themselves over the globe, had begun to shrink, to hide, as magical beings could not go without "miasma".

Creating that miasma... that had been her life's purpose. The life's purpose of every Green Witch before her.]

Returned? What became of it?

[What happened between the past she spoke of, her ancestors atop dragons, and the present she described?

Her gaze follows the point of Daenerys' finger, past her broken, bandaged feet soaking in the lapping waves, watching as the flame licked from the dragon's mouth and out towards his prey, wide-eyed and wondering.

Perhaps she could find a way to measure how hot those flames were...]

EVENT ★ NALAWI INTRO

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oh, bless her

I'm not IC without weird sexual misunderstandings sob

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i'm so sorry for being so slow, it's been a terrible week

<3 hope things are better for you now

thank you :)

;3

lmao DON'T MIND THE KEYWORDS, they don't apply here