epidemiology | EVENT ★ WILL O' WISP

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EVENT ★ WILL O' WISP

WELCOME TO NALAWI

When the newest recruits are surrounded and taken away from Oska by the white mist of an opening rift, they’ll find themselves brought somewhere no one meant for them to be.

There is stone all around, and recruits seem to have been transported into some sort of cave network. If the recruit in question has any sort of non-human powers, magic, or abilities, they will find that this has been either severely dampened by an unknown force, or removed altogether.

There isn’t any sunlight to be had anywhere, and some places in this strange, sprawling labyrinth are thrown into deep and complete darkness. In other places a subterranean, luminescent fungus grows on the wall, providing an eerie sort of green-blue light. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around to provide guide or explanation; recruits are free to explore this strange, silent place as they will. It’s no use trying to keep from getting lost, it’s a hopeless maze of unending stone hallways. But at least they have each other in this stifling darkness, right?

Be careful, though. Small clicks sound now and then in the darkness: little shelled insects that scuttle up the walls and across the floor. They seem to feed on the fungus, and are peaceful enough if left alone. If approached, though, they’ll lash out with the stinger on their long tails before rushing away again into the darkness. The stings from these creatures are painful, and temporarily paralyze whatever limb has been struck. It will last for at least an hour before wearing off again.

There is one other creature of note within this stone labyrinth: there is exactly one large cavern in this mess of halls and dead ends, and it contains a woman. She is hard to define, her form is made of living flame that casts dancing shadows from the bars of her cage. She sits peacefully against the far wall of the room, and thick bars of stone, shaped from the ceiling and floor themselves, provide her cell. She can be approached, and will speak if spoken to, but makes no attempt to move or escape.

No matter how ALASTAIR’s newest arrivals spend their time, eventually there is an interruption. Maybe you’re in that single, occupied cavern when she arrives and you spot her, or maybe you’re still lost in the maze and never even found the cavern or saw either creature at all. It doesn’t matter. A tall, cat-like woman with eerie blue light gleaming from her dead eyes arrives in time, and she knows immediately she and her captive are not alone here. She will say nothing, she will allow no time for questions. With one wave of her hand, a fierce wind stirs to life and begins to howl through the maze. It’s strong enough to literally pick you up off your feet and hurdle you through the darkness, and somehow avoids smashing its prizes into any walls. This wind knows exactly where it’s taking its captives, and it knows the way. All at once the recruits will find themselves blasted straight up into the open sky, and into the middle of a powerful hurricane.

This windy, dizzying experience lasts a good ten minutes as recruits are buffeted and spun end-over end in the hurricane as they leave land and travel over the sea, but it does end eventually. They are dumped unceremoniously on the western shore of a new place, the island of Pu’ulai, Nalawi, and the storm dissipates instantly after leaving them there.

Those recruits that have been on Nalawi a little longer are welcome to spot the odd, impossibly brief storm along that western edge and investigate. They’ll find that Pomarr has delivered them a few wayward recruits.

Welcome to Nalawi. Sorry about the local gods.

OOC NOTES

Characters will arrive in these caves first and spend an unspecified amount of time within them. This section of the log is closed to new arrivals only. You may choose to have your character run into the fiery lady (please see the thread below to have an encounter) solo, with another character (or characters), or not at all. Either way, they will eventually be brought to Nalawi proper, where any character in the game may encounter them.

To catch up on the recent goings-on, there's an OOC post here that should answer your questions, accompanied by this IC post. The mission briefing your character received is here, and you can find more information on the island your characters ended up on, Pu'ulai, here.

If you have any questions, feel free to direct them to the subthread below!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[A little bit of forsight was expected in a witch, Green or not. The ability to predict the harvest, decide the dates of important events, dream the prophetic signs of change... And of course, predict the weather. Sieglinde could do all of those things even before the magic ALASTAIR had given her, (minus the dreams, that had been conjecture and grandeur), and she knew for a fact it shouldn't storm today. Or she wouldn't be out on the beach, trying to test her newest toy.

But a storm comes nonetheless, and fresh off her own none too pleasant experience being bodily picked up and banished by such a thing, she's quick to abandon her crutch in the sand and instead grab the lens of a sea serpent's eye serving as her scrying device, stumbling on broken feet to the nearest crop of volcanic stone, huddling underneath an overhang from the sudden whip of rain and wind...

Yet the storm vanishes as soon as it came- leaving... A man. One she's never seen, not in her months of service, and one wearing...]

- Did ALASTAIR send you?

[She saw that. But her own gaze had been just as comically bewildered, (and still half was), clutching her orb in her hands, hair and dress wild from the wind as she stared up at him from the sand. Considering her own group had arrived in a maelstrom... She wasn't beyond believing ALASTAIR just had a new policy to blow them into new worlds.]

[Well, that's something. The residue of her surprise (and perhaps even panic), her wind tousled hair-- these observations lead him to assume that his own state of shock (of heart-scudding fear) slipped by unnoticed and make it all the easier for him to feign indifference now. Never mind that something still clatters and scrabbles like a loosed animal inside his chest, never mind that the bright sunlight and blue expanse over their heads make him uneasy, skittish-- there's no trace of it left in his bearing now. The only indications that this is something out of the ordinary for him can be found in his mild state of disarray and the way he squints into the naked daylight, holds up a hand to half-shield his eyes. He'd preferred the subterranean quiet of the tunnels, their muted illumination. Something closer to home.

(And damn, does he miss his glasses now)]

Yes and no.

[His shoulders rise and fall in a smooth little shrug, smile an uneven gash across his face.]

They sent me. But that...

[he gestures vaguely towards the sky without looking at it himself.]

...was courtesy of someone else. What a welcome.

[Someone else. Not ALASTAIR. And if it was someone with the power to summon storms that could pick people up like rag dolls and deposit them... Well, not gently, but with less bone-breaking force than would be expected from such a thing-]

Pomarr-

[The word, name?, is grit under her breath, barely audible as she averts her gaze momentarily, staring down at the giant lens dwarfing her hands, staring into it for a moment as if willing an image to come into shape within the filmy layers. But nothing came, and if he was new she didn't know how thoroughly this man had been briefed on their current situation, and that name wouldn't make sense-]

Was it a feline creature? Not altogether alive looking? Where did you encounter her?

[She hadn't seen the woman for herself, but Rin had given her enough description to ask, to confirm. Because if he knew where Pomarr was... It meant their team was one step closer to the near suicidal task of taking on gods.]

[He tilts his head just slightly at the grit in her words, the acidburn sting he can almost taste, though his own expression is one of infinite indifference. Whatever's going on here-- it means nothing to him. He'll play along only because it's what's expected of them and in the hope that it'll get him back to where he ought to be with greater speed, but aside from bewilderment and frustration and that sharp undercurrent of fear like a knife between the ribs, he feels nothing for the mission he's been charged with. Highly doubts he ever could.

The description fits though, and as far as he knows there's no reason for him to hold the information back.]

That'd be the one. Feline, with something missing behind the eyes.

[He casts a brief glance over his shoulder as though the gesture indicates where he came from, though of course it doesn't. Not considering the mode of transportation.]

Stone tunnels. Somewhere underground, I'd say. Though I couldn't tell you where.

[He has no idea.]

Nalanni was there too, if it's relevant. The so-called deity.

[There's a note in his voice that suggests mild disdain.]

[Stone tunnels... It could theoretically be anywhere, after all, the storm that had taken her had whisked them miles out to sea, but she had so far only seen tunnels like that in one place... Nalanni's volcano. But she wasn't there, which could point to... What? Another volcano on one of the other islands?

... The problem was. Did she really want the members of their team who were slavering for the goddess' death to know where she was?]

It is relevant.

[But her own views meant little against the dictates of ALASTAIR, in the end. She could do what she could to distance herself from the issue, refuse to be a part of an effort to kill a god... Remain quiet when it came to possible more poisonous means she had at her disposal but...]

What is it you are called? I will take you to the others.

[Incomplete information like that didn't need to just be broadcast on the network to feed the more ravenous of their number.]

[Her thoughts, of course, go unnoticed by him as he brushes off the last of the sand from his brand new uniform, and so all he can do is answer the question leveled at him. Never mind that he remains devoid of enthusiasm at the prospect of meeting 'the others'-- he supposes he can't stand around here all day, and the more space he can create between himself and the moment his composure slipped away from him, the better.]

Giovanni Rammsteiner.

[He gives a mock bow, grins crookedly.]

And if it's relevant then it's unfortunate that the information I have is so limited.

[Rammsteiner? It was perhaps a strange thing to focus on, but Sieglinde perked up slightly at the name, even if she held herself back from jumping on that immediately. - She was the senior here, she had certain responsibilities. After an arrival to this world like that, she was sure he'd want to at least get off the beach and somewhere more stable...]

We are used to dealing with less information than one would like- every little bit assists.

[She tried not to get her hopes up. After all, she had met recruits with names before who seemed like they might be from her country, but with so many worlds one couldn't expect it. Still...]

- Are you German?

[Manners dictated she ought to give her own name first, but she hadn't exactly been raised to think a lord need concern themselves with such things.]

[She's right, there. Lingering on the beach isn't something he especially wishes to do, what with the glare of the light in his uncovered eyes and the daunting sight of so many things he's never had the opportunity to see before. The sand, the wide open sky, the vast expanse of water that moves and shifts in a disconcerting and almost predatory way; all of these are new to him. All of them unwanted.

He takes a step towards her, makes it clear that he's ready to be led away from here.]

Like a puzzle, then. What fun.

[There's something sardonic around the edges of his words, but he's quickly turning his attention to her question instead, sorting through responses. His is a complicated situation, and in all likeliness she'll be just as disappointed in him as she has been with others in the past. Still. He answers to the best of his ability.]

I believe so.

[It's vague, but his world is a vague and shadowy place, the city he hails from seemingly cut off from the outside world, or at least this is so from his perspective. His Mother tongue (ha ha) is Germanic, however, and so it seems a reasonable assumption to make.]

[Ah- right, of course. She had offered to lead him, not distract him with talk about himself. (Besides, that could be done while moving.). Sieglinde put her sea serpent lens aside in the sand, gesturing to the crutch that had been buffeted by the storm, closer now to Giovanni than her.]

Could you hand me that?

[For her part, she began the laborous process of standing up, a process not incomparable to watching a newborn foal try to stand up for the first time, thin legs shaking and barely balancing, one hand on the rocks for support. Her feet, unnaturally shaped and a mere three inches long, provided little help on solid ground, let alone shifting sands.]

I am told I am from Germany myself- my name is Sieglinde Sullivan.

[Without thinking she had switched to her own mother tongue, (not that it mattered so much with ALASTAIR's translators), an antiquated form of High German. "Told" the only reason she blithely accepts "I believe so" as an answer and doesn't press it.]

[His eyes follow the direction of her fingers until they come to rest on the crutch, then sweep for the first time over her thin legs, her deformed feet. It's a dismissive glance, however, and if he feels any shock or surprise over her condition it doesn't register in his face. Instead, he merely moves to do as he's asked, reaching for the crutch whilst she continues speaking.

It doesn't go unnoticed, that use of the word told, and although he follows her lead and lets it pass by unremarked upon, it manages to snag briefly at his interest. Something to be remembered, perhaps-- familiarity appears to be something he'll find little of here, and there's the possibility that it ought to be held onto when it's presented to him.

He moves closer to her, holds out the crutch, sliding smoothly into his own dialect to match her as best he can-- it's not the same, but again there's enough familiarity in the sound of it that he finds it vaguely reassuring.]

Well, then. It's a pleasure, Miss Sullivan.

[A brief pause-- her struggles are clear enough to him.]

Perhaps you'll allow me to assist you.

[For all the fact that she was far more mature than a girl of her age ought to be, and had seen things that would make adults wilt or waste away, there were still things that betrayed a certain childishness in Sieglinde- and the flash of relief and comforted joy upon hearing a language so close to her own was one of them, her lips curling up into a brief smile. She was good at languages, always had been, and she tended to speak English these days for her own practice and to provide that same feeling of familiarity for other recruits...

But it was nice to know she could be understood by someone like this, in case ALASTAIR's translators ever failed. She was still smiling a bit to herself when she took the crutch with a nod, getting it under an arm and steadying herself before she used the extra balance to perform a small curtsy. She then lifted her prize, gently placing the serpent lens in her satchel and clumsily getting it over the shoulder of the same arm she used the crutch with.]

If you could provide escort, that would be most appreciated, yes.

[She had learned to stop expecting to be carried- a hard habit to break when she'd had a manservant at her beck and call to do just that all her life, but. An arm at least she could make much better do with than on her own- and she saw little point in trying to be independent at the expense of slowing everyone down.]

We had much better accommodations on the main island, but recently our activities have shifted us here- still, the basics are available, rest assured.

[Her age makes no impression on him until the moment her face splits into that brief little smile and he sees the relief in her, something he too feels yet stubbornly swallows down, locks up tight. There's no trace of it in his expression at all, face wiped clean of all raw emotion and replaced with the crooked empty thing that passes as a smile.]

That I can do.

[And he'll come close enough for her to take the crook of his elbow should she wish it, and though she doesn't ask it of him he would probably oblige to carry her if she had. He can, at the very least, make a pretense at gentlemanly manners when the mood takes him. Mother had always been keen on elegance.]

And what, may I ask, would you consider the basics?

[His is a distracted kind of interest though-- empty talk helps soften the sharp edges of his enduring fear, but the reality is he can cope just fine with the bare minimum of 'comforts'. The bare minimum is all he's ever known, and anything else will no doubt seem excessive and strange and vaguely disconcerting.]

Then I accept. Here- it is this way.

[Sieglinde took the arm he offered, her grip firm by her own standards but a weak thing to an adult, not the delicate barely-there touch of a proper escorted lady gliding along beside a gentleman. The weight she put on his arm varied depending on the footing and her steadiness, lighter one moment then heavier the next if the sand shifted and left her malformed feet bereft of support.]

We've lodgings, fresh water and food, though the majority of it comes from the sea...

[Her gaze wandered up as she spoke, blatantly staring at her escort. He did not seem too old, (though her experiences left her a poor judge of age), rather slim, and something sharp about him that didn't quite seem physical.]

Things would be better if the magic of this land wasn't being drained as it is, but. - Perhaps someone has enough to trace where it is you came from.

[A weak thing particularly to him, and it's this weakness that causes him a distant flutter of discomfiture-- there's something unpleasantly nostalgic in it, something that makes his mind flicker like a dying bulb, stuttering over thoughts of small broken things left behind and best forgotten. But once again, such feelings fail to manifest at a surface level, and he remains a solid presence for he to lean against despite the apparent slightness of his own body.

The sand feels strange beneath his boots, makes something twist disconcertingly in his guts, but he says nothing of it.]

Well. What more does one need.

[Even the food he could do without, if Neubauten (don't think about it, don't think about it) was to be believed.

Her staring doesn't go unnoticed, but if anything her eyes on him reinforce his composure, help solidify the mask-- he keeps his chin raised, red eyes slightly obscured by the fall of his hair, his face cold and distant and contained.]

I can't say I know much about magic, myself, beyond what was said in the briefing. I'll have to take your word for it.

[The stoicism itself doesn't raise any flags- in fact, Sieglinde is sure it is likely a good thing. For those more easily shaken this place would be a nightmare- it was better of ALASTAIR to take people who could handle things better than those who could not. (A few certain recruits sprung to mind's eye...)]

Better tools and equipment would be nice.

[Better to be calm in tempestuous times like these. While they were debating if the goddesses of this world should be killed or not, the last thing they needed was another hothead.]

Does you world have none of it? What of "science"?

[She was more intimately familiar with the latter herself, but having learned it all in the guise of the former, the terminology still sounded off and unfitting on her tongue, still in the process of mentally translating things in her head. Not potions, chemical compounds. Not magic circles, atomic models. Not spells, medical treatment.

Not magic, science.]

[Better tools and equipment. Those words that prick at him momentarily and make him think of gunsgunsguns because wouldn't it be nice to be properly armed, a pretense at protection in a world so strange and completely alien that the weight of them in his palms would almost feel like magic, talismans to ward off the twisting ugly mass of panic that skitters in his chest and pulses in his veins and--

--he takes a breath, takes one more, shuts it out. The question that crowds his mouth can wait until he's answered hers.

He barks out a laugh, ha ha, a sound both dry and abrupt.]

Oh yes, my world has plenty of science. No magic to speak of, but who needs it when science can do almost anything you want if only you know how.

[So there it is, and now his question, asked so casually as to sound almost indifferent instead of what it is.]

Speaking of tools and equipment, what of weapons? They'd be handy under the circumstances, I'd say.

[The abrupt laugh brought her gaze back up to his face, quizzical, but a question didn't form on her tongue or leave her lips. He had just arrived. She knew nothing of his circumstance. ... But the phrase was similar enough to her own situation.]

... They can be one and the same when it comes to results, it is true. That is why I am called the Green Witch, after all.

[It was something worth thinking about, in the dark of night. The line between the two, if there was even a line at all, in the end.]

I'm afraid the Nalawi are used to using "gifts" and have little in the way of advanced weaponry- what is it you are used to?

[She had stopped being surprised at fighters months ago. ALASTAIR liked them, it seemed, whether they wielded guns, spears, swords, or magic. It seemed few came like she, armed only with their mind- or perhaps it was a bias of her own.]

[It's not something he's ever given any thought to, magic. There'd never been a reason to-- it's a word he knows, yes, something he's read about on occasion in fictional stories on those times where he's been able to procure books from Mother's library or the Underground, but it has no bearing on his existence. At least, from his perspective. Its similarities to science are therefore lost on him.]

The Green Witch?

[Again, his tone is distant, a question asked at least in part because he imagines it's expected, but there is some level of curiosity there, albeit a detached kind. He's not sure what he imagined a Witch to look like, or even if he has ever imagined such a thing, but he doubts it would be this crippled girl.

More pressing, however, are the words little in the way of advanced weaponry and something in him sinks forlornly. ALISTAIR could at least have had the decency to replace what he had lost if they expect his compliance.]

As for the kinds of weapons I'm used to, I have an understanding of a good many, but my preference is for guns.

The Green Witch's line is one that specializes in healing magic. - It is more science, in the end, but.

[But even knowing it was science didn't change the fact that she thought of it like magic, that after ALASTAIR's influence she herself was capable of "true" magic as well. She made a far witchier impression in her manor, in clean clothing and attended by her villagers, carried by her manservant...

But that was months and months past now, and in its place she had a gown that had seen far better days, tangled hair, and wincing steps. Almost tripped over a dip in the sand, catching herself on Giovanni's arm.]

There are some of our number who also use firearms... perhaps one of them could lend you one for the time being?

[Riza sprung to mind most immediately. Though the last thing Sieglinde wished to advocate was violence, more weapons... with the situations they were placed in...

It was better for those who could fight to be armed. For those like her who could support to be ready to heal and help. A ragtag, unwilling team.]

[Perhaps better isn't exactly the right word, not when applied to him, though that remains to be seen. He'll feel better with a gun or two, better still with his own, and the possibility exists that it could even do something to calm him, prevent him from reacting in unpredictable ways when faced with the reality of a dulling of his abilities and the loss of his own firearms. But he's a thing created for violence, turns to it in in moments of uncertainty, so he's possibly safer as he is.

Hard to say.]

Perhaps you'd do me the courtesy of introducing me, or asking around. You'll doubtless be more familiar with the rest of the team than I.

[The emphasis on the word team is a subtle thing, but it's there-- he can't conceive of them that way. They're nothing to him and are likely (he thinks) to remain that way.]

Healing magic, though-- I suppose that would be useful to many in a situation like this.

[To many, but not to him. At least, not usually. There's something vaguely amusing, though, in the thought of someone so obviously impaired and in pain specialising in a healing capacity that clearly doesn't work on themselves. Perhaps there's some trace of these thoughts in the words that follow.]

This seems difficult for you. Are you sure I can't assist you further?

I know at least one person I could ask.

[And seeing no reason not to, she would do as she said, nodding along with the idea. She didn't know if Riza had extras... but it was worth asking. After all... at the rate they were going, she didn't like the idea of someone not being able to defend themselves.]

It has proven necessary in every situation.

[The injured villagers in Anwick, those attacked by chimera or injured in the riots in Chantes, Masamune's arm, Badou's wounds, the storm battered Nalawi... all fresh, and all things she had erased with her own hands, whether through magic or the slower work of medical science... but her own feet, bandaged away, were breaks and calculated folds and binds years old...

And not something she even knew if she had the right to heal or not. It was a question that had dogged her since Chantes, if she should even attempt to hide he sign of her ignorance and disgrace... if the burden she was on these missions made it-

Sieglinde shook her head, clearing those thoughts from her head and instead looking up at the offer. ... Well, if he was offering...]

... I am usually carried, if you've the strength for it.

[Not to be rude, but. He was quite the opposite of her over-muscled manservant.]

[A slight inclination of his head to imply that he'd be much obliged, that he'd appreciate the assistance-- perhaps it'll come to nothing and yet the thought settles something in him, just a bit. There's the possibility of obtaining a weapon or two, and that's a solid prospect to focus on.]

I can see that kind of ability coming in handy, yes.

[His own body's healing capacities are the only reason he's still here, after all, despite the delayed onset.

And then he sees it, the way she looks up at him, the slight trace of doubt in her voice. It's understandable-- first impressions would not lead one to believe he'd been specifically designed for combat, he knows, his whipchord frame leading to the mistaken impression that he's insubstantial, perhaps even weak. Brute force isn't quite his forte, but he's far stronger than one would initially imagine, stronger than a normal human could hope to be.

She'll come to see that, no doubt.

He gives her a collusive kind of smile.]

I'm sure I'll manage.

[He comes to a stop on the uneven surface of the sand. Waits for her to do the same.]

[If you asked Sieglinde, "handy" was an understatement. But that was what came of this sort of violence- injuries, and only a few of their number possessed the ability to heal their own bodies.

But as it was... well, he did offer. And it would be faster. As much as she tried to tell herself she wouldn't trust... with her limits, she had little choice in some matters.

So she stopped, adjusted her pack and raised her arms to be picked up, quite more accustomed to such things than walking on her own atrophied limbs.]

It is just a bit further to the settlement.

[In fact, there was a native nearing their position now, on the way to go fishing if the gear they were carrying meant anything.]

[It's a strange gesture, the way she reaches with outstretched arms and quite suddenly she seems that much more like a child. If he were another kind of man he may have wondered how ALISTAIR could consider her a likely candidate for these kinds of missions, but he knows better. The only children he's ever known were all teeth and claws and bullets and blades, were all more than capable of handling themselves.

(All save himself back then, broken pathetic worthless thing that he'd been that he still is in some ways shut up)

There's only a fractional hesitation before he reaches for her and swings her easily into his arms-- slight as they are and even with his abilities dampened to a fraction of what they should be, he's more than capable of this. He gives her a smile as if to say you see?]

[She's far more used to this than walking on her own- that was obvious, as she instinctively shifted in his arms and placed one of her own loosely over shoulder, just barely brushing against the back of his neck, (hmm?) in the process. She was thankfully already small for her age, weight tempered further by somewhat atrophied legs, far slimmer than a girl's ought to be, they and the bound feet, three inches and oddly arched, bared by the way her gown rode up a bit when being carried.

- but he managed it better than her brief inspection had belied, so. She would give him that. (Her other hand, which seemed to almost... Grope his bicep for a moment, was surely... Accidental?) She gave him a nod of acknowledgment, though, pointing left on the sandy walkway they were approaching.]

Have you islands like this in your world? Tropical, I mean- not the cervids.

[Deer people probably weren't a mainstream thing...]

EVENT ★ WILL O' WISP

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