• Event • 1. The Morning Of [AoQ Event Part One | Mature]

[Strange]

The Assault on Quacia
Quacia Hot Cycle Event
66th of Ymiden, Arc 720

On the 46th of Ymiden in the arc of the Wounded Lord 720, the Creep surrounded Quacia.

The Royal Wood taken, the outlying barony lands overwhelmed by the hostile plantlife that encroached closer to the city every day. Through the water, they took what ships didn't sink. Trade slowed and then halted.

There is no help coming from outside. No contingent from the northern neighbor of Desnind, and even if there was, it would not be received well.

Quacia is alone. The people only have each other.

Fear has risen to its highest peak, unrivaled in any remembered time, as the desperate seek escape but never succeed.

Since the 60th of Ymiden, the Dragoons have been locked in constant perpetual war with the Creep, just outside the city walls.

The Creep does not sleep. Though the Dragoons struck first, with enough furious glory that would make for bardic legends, the surviving units were quickly forced to retreat for the protection behind city walls. Resources have dwindled, food is stretched thin. Hundreds upon hundreds of infantry soldiers have already died. The dead are left to rot, for now, in piles along the city perimeter. There have been six trials of this. Of non-stop battle and death.

Nothing seems to be improving, and you can’t help but wonder…

...will this be how you meet your final end?

You awake on the morning of the 66th of Ymiden to the echoed ringing of Theocratum church bells.

All of them, at once, in every chapel and citadel throughout Quacia.

It almost deafens the sound of explosions, almost. But you have gotten used to the noise by now. There have been off-and-on explosions outside the city walls for several trials now, except this time… something is different enough to jostle you more alert than you might have otherwise been.

This time, the explosions sound much closer than all the ones before. Why, it’s so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if you went to the nearest window, you’d see the battle right there beside the church where you’ve been keeping safe for the night.

The dawn’s light pours through the stained glass windows of the nave, and whether you’ll be able to keep safe in the church for the trial to come…

...it is as unknown as all the rest.


Woe Morandi awakens near Balthazar Black, in the Citadel of the Gleam. Not the Citadel of Truth, but the other one. The less fancy one. The one meant for the working wealthy, not the true elites who hide within the Fortress-protected Citadel of Truth.

Only the highest of status and privilege are allowed into the Citadel of Truth. All others are left to the chapels, buildings, and streets of Quacia.

So it is that Woe and Balthazar have been resting with their detachment of dragoons in this particular Citadel. They have only had the night to recover, sharpen weapons, and prepare for another push against the Creep. There have been six trials of this fighting, and it doesn’t seem to be easing up. Their numbers have dwindled, losing more soldiers every trial.

Their detachment started with 150 soldiers. Now, in addition to the two foreigners, their detachment is a strong but small unit of twenty-five soldiers. Some are young, some are old, but all are weathered by now. Injuries are minor, but there are some. Some sleep, some cannot, but all have to try.

There are whispers of a rumor among the soldiers; about a compound of mixed chemicals and unknown powders. The rumors change but it is said that this drug helps a person ignore pain, to give strength that isn’t otherwise there, to stay awake and resist fatigue, to stay sharply focused, and to gain an edge and defeat the Creep in hand-to-hand combat. The soldiers are calling it Wildfire.

Balthazar Black and Woe Morandi have both been promoted to Dragoon Captains. The promotion came yestertrial, due to a large catapult boulder that landed on the previous two captains. The surviving soldiers at the time had looked to the two mages in hope of some sort of instruction. Of course, the decision had been to retreat - specifically away from the other boulders that had rained down along the perimeter field. And so, together, they are now in charge of their unit. Any other superiors... their unit hasn’t seen them for at least two trials now. It seems as if they have been presumed dead, or left to die, or forgotten entirely.

Whatever the case, the other soldiers have become paranoid, wide-eyed and frayed to the edges regardless. They cling to their spears, shields, and swords, as if expecting attack at any moment…

...and it is hard for anyone to deny that possibility.


In the Gleam’s Citadel, Vito Rossau awakens to find a couple of his fellow Tribunals feverishly praying at the central altar. They slice open their hands and bleed within the collection basin, while muttering chants of devotion and in desperate request for protection from He Who Bleeds.

Three trials ago, Vito had been assigned to this Citadel as an order given directly from Herald Vatia. This morning, there is no higher authority than Vito when it comes to the Gleam’s Citadel. A great honor, but one that means he is not included in the protected elite Citadel of Truth. To prove his faith, as Herald Vatia had put it.

So now, he is here… with only ten inexperienced Tribunals under his command, and not a Herald in sight. Under the Citadel’s roof, there is the Dragoon unit of about twenty-five soldiers (one of which he knows quite well - given that his soul has been touched by that man); and a hundred regular citizens from the Gleam, mostly of merchants, lower-ranking guild members, and their families. A good portion are children and vulnerable sorts, as all able-bodied fighters have already been drafted by the Dragoons.

As the bells ring, (and who might be ringing the bells of the Citadel, Vito likely wonders), and explosions go off so close that the stone floors of the church tremble, a louder crash booms through the Gleam. Many people go to the windows, but are unable to see much beyond the neighboring buildings. Shock, and prayers, and curses, and even some sobs; the people are beside themselves with fear and grief.

While the congregation’s attention seems to be taken by looking out the windows, a scrawny soldier ambles up to Woe’s side. Coated in sweat, his eyes are reddened and hair stuck to his brow. He has something between both his hands, and anxiously leans in to whisper, “Captain Morandi, I’ve… I’ve just come from my family’s down in Shanty, I know- I know I shouldn’t have- but I had to see… and… I’ve got a- I think I got a- a source for some Wildfire. Gave me some, here… not a lot but enough for a hit for each, maybe.”

He takes out a burlap sack, about the size of a large fist, and tries to hand it over to Woe. Inside, there is a mixture of powders in various colors. The smell reeks through the burlap, like an acrid sour tang as if dried bile.

Woe’s Choice

Woe finds himself alongside Balthazar, in charge of their detachment of 25 Dragoons. A quick decision needs to be made as to how they are going to fight (if they are). One of the soldiers has brought him a sample of a drug cocktail, said to be the "Wildfire" that has been spreading around the infantry ranks, and is leaving it up to him whether to give it to the unit or not.

Balthazar’s Choice

Balthazar finds himself alongside Woe, in charge of their detachment of 25 Dragoons. A quick decision needs to be made as to how they are going to fight (if they are). He sees Woe and the soldier with the assumed Wildfire drug.

Vito’s Choice

Vito finds himself in charge of the Gleam’s Citadel. He must choose how to handle the 100 citizens, 10 Tribunals, and the detachment of 25 Dragoons. Do they stay in the Citadel? Do they pray? Do they try to go to the more protected Citadel of Truth? Whatever will Vito do...

Critical Situation

By the sounds and context, all of you are vaguely aware that the Creep has advanced, likely somewhere nearby.

• You don’t know where on the wall.
• You don’t know how much of the Creep is there.
• You don’t know what the next order for the Dragoons are.
• You don’t know much about the drug cocktail other than it’s a mixture of extremely potent powders that gives soldiers an edge; the rumors say that it keeps them focused and especially able to fight the Creep with startling efficiency.
• You all got decent enough rest the night before, to have energy for the trial ahead.

!

Message from: Strange

Hello players, this will be a fast and furious event! No matter where this event story is at, on September 30 - that is where it will end. So whatever is the case at that time, I will make a mod-call on the conclusion of it, depending on the actions of each player. In your first post, please make a general summary of what your character is wearing, what weapons they have, and anything important that they are carrying with them. Here are some guidelines: Every 1-3 days, I will post - regardless if everyone has posted or not. This is because the battle (and trials) will continue to progress forward. There is no penalty for missing a “round”, though. There is no posting order. Feel free to post more than once, even if I haven’t posted. If you need a quick decision/result, I’ll add mod-notes for those. I strongly suggest that you try to move every post toward some definite action, and don’t have your characters stand around and chat. Play to the level of your skills (if you want a chance of success) You have access to any magic, abilities, etc. that your character has. If making a high impact action, please add an OOC note mentioning that action specifically (and any related skills/abilities to do with it). Attached below is my attempt at the map of the church and nearby area. The gray is the fog-of-war (areas of the map that haven’t been witnessed, scouted, or observed). The little dotted lines are the fence/iron bars around the Citadel's grounds. Feel free to explore the location however you want, there are little letters that mark your character - if you feel ambitious, and your character moves in a very particular direction, feel free to edit the map to show where your character has gone. Have fun and if you have any questions or concerns, please PM me!

Location Map

[Woe]

Fleaface was at the house, probably cooped up in the Undercroft with the rest of Woe's household. There, Fleaface had been ordered to hide, and protect Woe's property against any incursions. He had faith in the man's discipline, but less in his loyalty. All the same, they all were in the same boat now, and they had to trust each other. To do otherwise was to hand Quacia to the Creep. Woe almost said a prayer for their safety, but thought better of it. There probably wasn't anyone who would hear him now.

He'd gotten used to the feeling of waking up, stiff as a board from sleeping in his armor. In addition to the grave-gold, masterwork lamellar and mail set he'd long since added a pair of long, padded leather gauntlets and sleeves to it, to protect himself against his own faldrunium, chain mesh whip. The arm padding and gauntlets were fire-warded, like the handle of his whip and a sleeve that contained its coils on his hip. As well, his grave-gold sabatons had been refurbished with the fire-warded leather padding. It was hot as hell in that armor, and he probably smelled none the better for it. But then, they were all in the same boat. This was no perfumed dress rehearsal for a masquerade ball. This was war.

The fighting was in the streets now, every corner of Quacia was soon to be covered by the encroachments of the creeping terror that harassed it for ages beyond remembering. Woe didn't know much of Quacia's history, but he'd perhaps be forgiven for assuming the Creep hadn't gotten as far as this.

The faldrunium whip in its sleeve at his side hissed with anticipation, and with the burning embers and ichorous sap of whatever Creepborn's it'd tasted the nights before. He would fuel it well, he decided, before his final moments. Getting to his feet, with a strain and a crack of his back, he felt for the etheric signature of the rune of Endurance he'd etched on his abdomen in previous nights. There, he retraced the lines of the rune, tasking them with ether and a sound trigger that only he knew, and wasn't likely to be spoken aloud by anyone present. (it wasn't Anathema!)

The rune was there in case his fatigue caught up to him again, in the days ahead. But his soldiers, and his comrade Balthazar, as mighty and indomitable as he was, didn't have the benefit of runic magic to shore up his endurance. While he would leave it up to Balthazar whether he took the wildfire, he wasn't about to let his own men choose. His men needed a strong and decisive direction. They needed to know that their captains were ready to fight beside them to the bitter end and that they had a plan. A plan that was eluding Woe at the moment, given how blinded they were to the situation outdoors.

Woe turned to Balthazar, the sack of wildfire in hand, and nodded to him. Whatever the mage decided, to take the drug or not, he wouldn't deny him his choice. He did instruct the mage, or more suggested, "Now would be a good time as any to scry or use attunement, and find out what you can about the enemy's positions." However, to the men assembled beneath them...

"Men, thanks to this brave soldier, who dared run through Creep-infested streets to gather resources, we have Wildfire!" Woe used that moment to steady one soldier's nerves, and then with as much concentration as he could muster, bundle and strengthen that sense of resolve to a nexus, that he bundled for a critical moment when they'd need a boost of morale. He attempted to hem in as much fear as he could with as many soldiers as he could, to keep their morale strong. "We must not turn aside from this gift, this chance to bring vengeance upon the enemy!"

"Take a portion for each of you, and save it for when the need is greatest." He nodded to the ragged soldier that had arrived, and indicated that he should distribute the drug to the soldiers.

While Balthazar did whatever he would, whether it was to scout the Creep or else arrange positions, Woe would take stock of the situation in the Cathedral. He saw Vito with 100 helpless citizens and some clergy members. Woe didn't know what to do about those civilians, but they were under their protection now. All the same, they all had to stick together. Yet every able-bodied man was in the army now, either dead on the battlefield or drafted and cornered in one section of the city with some unit or another.

The mortalborn approached Vito where he was, and said, "Shall I call you Herald now?" Woe shrugged. He didn't know how such things worked within the internal structures of the Theocratum. While he'd gathered some intel on them, it didn't penetrate the surface layer. "At any rate, it looks like these folks are in your power and care. I'd like to hear your thoughts on what we ought to do about them." Woe almost added the word Initiate, but stopped himself just shy of it.

While waiting for Vito to answer him, he looked around and tried to suss out the most vulnerable positions within the church. With all the stained glass windows, the Creep might enter by any of them. As much comfort as the Cathedral offered now, it was only a matter of time before their hands were all forced...

Equipment

Grave gold tier 6 armor masterwork. Golden Salamander padded leather armor tier 3 (Fire-warded, subtracted the necessary funds from my ledger, plus 2 wp for the firewarding). A faldrunium metal mesh whip, a tienite bastard sword, portal boots, domain bag.

Actions

Bundled a sense of relief and morale and hemmed it beneath his own tangle, for release as a nexus later. (Expert Empath). Allowed the soldiers access to wildfire, to be used only at great need (Leadership competent, tactics expert.)]

[Vito Rossau]

66 YMIDEN, 720
CITADEL IN GLEAM

A test of his faith. For three trials now Vito’s faith – and his patience – had been tested and pushed to new levels as he did what he could to maintain calm within the Citadel. The citizens of the Gleam were not new to him, nor was he an unfamiliar face to many of them after so many arcs spent in sacrifice and prayer alongside them, but Vito had hardly been instructed on how to lead before the congregation had been thrown into his care. He thought he could have considered his fellow Tribunals nonexistent for how much use they were; being stuck in the Citadel with the ten inexperienced priests made him wonder, briefly, if the Heralds had simply conspired for it all to be the death of him. Certainly the trust extended towards him was an honor that did not go unnoticed or unappreciated by the ambitious young biqaj, but it made him wary all the same, when the Creep only continued to press into the city.

There was nothing that he could do about the world outside of the Citadel. The constant noise of collective pain and fear, the carnage and bloodshed that littered the streets. Another trill meant another soldier dead, or such was what the Tribunal had started to believe from the way the units were so quickly depleted. Over the course of six trials he prayed for guidance, for assistance, for protection. Not only for himself, but for the holy sanctuary of Quacia that had always been his home. For the civilians and soldiers alike. For… an answer.

So many unknowns fought for a place among Vito’s many concerns, and more were added by the trial, the latest being: bells. Church bells, specifically, that rang out across the whole of Quacia. The echoed rings, along with the frighteningly loud and incredibly close sound of another explosion, were more than enough to wake the Tribunal on the morning of the 66th.

Jolted awake by the rumbling of the stone floor of the church, the biqaj could already hear the commotion of shuffling feet and panicked whispers and prayers and sobs. No time was wasted in waking; he was dressed already, and did not dare venture into the side rooms to rifle through what little they had left for sustenance. His ceremonial robes had been put aside after the first trial spent in the Citadel, in favor of wearing the slightly more practical uniform meant for a normal trial’s use. In his right sleeve rested a spring-loaded blade, and at his waist, a cat o’ nine tails and a small, red velvet pouch were hidden amid his dark garb. A pair of circular spectacles sat upon his nose, but they were quickly removed, and slipped into the pockets of his robes.

Vito approached the center of the altar, where a few of his fellow Tribunals had collected to shed blood in frantic prayer. He did not rush to the windows as many in the congregation had done, but his eyes did drift over them, in a quick survey of the children and other civilians left under his care. All the while, he listened to the joined voices of prayer and let the familiar words somewhat steel his resolve. Quiet enough that only his fellow priests might hear, he mentioned, “you all heard the bells; the crash that came after. He has not been satisfied. So many of His faithful have fallen… this routine shedding is not enough to stem the flood. He calls for more.”

His eyes shifted from once face to the next, a deep crimson in shade. He said nothing in suggestion, not yet, but left them with that alone, letting it simmer so that their minds could consider it and make of it what they would. Vito stepped away, stiff-backed as Herald Vatia, and looked down over the rest of the Citadel and the soldiers and civilians that remained within. Both Dragoon captains – one of which he knew, while the other he had learned of only when the unit first took shelter in the church – had awoken as well, to address their weary men and, he assumed, to plan out their next move. Whatever they had up their sleeves, Vito hoped they would reveal it soon, as it certainly did not sound as if the Creep was getting any farther... and if they had nothing at all, then he only hoped that the other units spread across the city were better off. But if he was being entirely honest with himself, he had tried not to think of the soldiers at all since the fighting began.

There were too many unknowns. Not enough answers.

As Woe approached the dais, the Tribunal looked to his mentor and dipped his head slightly in greeting. “You may call me whatever you wish,” he answered plainly, eyes darting back to the crowd. He was no Herald – not by any official measure, but the dawn of what promised to be another trial of non-stop bloodshed had already dispensed of his need for formalities from the older man. Whatever pride he could have taken from the question… it had been set aside the moment he awoke and registered just how close the latest string of explosions had sounded.

Vito took a step closer. Voice lowered, he answered Woe’s follow-up question with, “the children come first. If things take a turn, remember that. The others…”

His scarlet gaze found Woe’s face for a trill, and then darted back to the crowd while he continued. He spoke so plainly only because of the connection he felt to the older mage, but he kept his voice quiet all the same, so as not to be overheard by his fellow priests. “...Should your men fall, there will be none to protect the children. So if it comes to it… use the elders and the sick as you can.”

As shields, as bait, as whatever they needed to be. Soldiers were of more use than those who had not even mattered enough to be allowed into Fortress. The children were of the utmost importance – they were the future of Quacia, of the Theocratum, of everything. Those orphaned by the Creep would be raised within the very churches that saved them, like Vito himself, and for those with parents that remained in the aftermath… he supposed that they should be grateful for the fierce protection provided. It was war, after all, and in spite of his calm words for the crowd… he knew that not everyone could be saved.

“We need blood,” muttered the Tribunal, and he glanced back to his fellows at the altar, and then to the congregation. “I will lead a prayer to focus them. I trust that you and Captain Black will keep me informed,” and he raised a brow, “or tell us when to run.”

With a gesture of his hand for the other Tribunals to join him and bring the offering bowls and necessary instruments, Vito waited until they stood at his sides. Carefully, he attempted to sift through the tangle of one of the priests that had already been feverishly praying, and once he had identified that thread – of that obsessive fear – he attempted to bring it to the surface as much as he could. While he did this, he leaned slightly closer and whispered low, “Captain Morandi fears, too, that we are not giving enough. Do you recall the way Our Lord shone so brilliantly when the old rites were performed in court?”

OOC

Vito's going to try to lead a prayer. He might also be trying to push the other Tribunal into sacrificing someone to make it more potent.

Relevant skills:
Empathy (should be Novice?)
Intimidation (Competent, 30/250)
Persuasion (Unranked, 0/250)
Deception (Competent, 30/250)
Rhetoric (Unranked, 0/250)

CURRENT INVENTORY

Wearing: Daily Tribunal uniform, eyeglasses and leather gloves are in pockets. No armor.
Carrying: Spring-loaded dagger (right sleeve), Cat o' Nine tails (waist), red pouch holding 6 doses of unidentified powder (Avriel's Dream Dust) (waist).

[Balthazar Black]

66 Ymiden 720

Why Quacia? Why did it have to be this place? Balthazar had been eager to fight the Creep. He had been eager to see what it could do and he had not been let down. Now he was beginning to think he regretted coming here- but he remembered he hadn't come by choice. He'd come by chance. He had to believe fate had plans for him now and as best he could tell those plans involved fixing Quacia's problem... or at least trying the best he could. The battle had been going for six trials now. Six trials fighting an enemy that did not tire like the Dragoons. Balthazar hadn't realized how frightening that was until six trials when the battle hadn't yet ended.

One of the benefits of the constant battle was that it helped to normalize the sound of warfare. Balthazar had become fairly used to the explosions by the 66th trial of Ymiden but that didn't make them any less jarring. Especially when they were as close as the last one had sounded. The Citadel of the Gleam was something to look at but the finer decor went completely unnoticed to the mage who'd been promoted to Captain. This building was exactly what every other building was, another shell meant to hold the Creep out and hold the living in. Balthazar woke with mild surprise beside Woe and slung his feet over the edge of his cot, rising and begging to strap on the gear he'd worn for the duration of the battling so far.

He wore Grave Gold armor vambraces and greaves to protect his arms and legs in battle as well as his Grave Gold breastplate to protect his center mass from anything that slipped though his defenses. The mage had a Grave Gold spring loaded dagger nestled into each vambrace but he didn't expect to use them. He'd put the blades there to surprise fleshy combatants, not plants. For the Creep he wore the Faldrunium katanna Woe had given him in return for his service. The blade had seen some use and by the end of the trial he expected it would see more use. Lastly he wore a ember steel dagger at the back of his belt but it was no ordinary dagger. It was the anchor of his spectral companion Nimue who had yet to materialize. The group had started with a much larger and far more hopeful number that had been cut down to a mere twenty five fighters. Seeing the small number left alive was discouraging every trial but it was also a reminder that they were still there. They were alive and they weren't done fighting.

Balthazar had heard the rumors of Wildfire, a drug that would make them a much more fierce group if it did what they expected it to. Balthazar didn't like the idea of a temporary enhancement because he knew the Creep would not tire and if their drug-given strength wore off in the midst of battle with an enemy that could fight with the same ferocity for the duration of the battle... well it would go poorly. He and Woe had been promoted to Dragoon Captains because the officers serving in the position before them were unceremoniously killed off. It was, Balthazar decided, an effective way to get promoted.

More loud booms rocked the cathedral and Fuego, Balthazar's diri, bounced slightly on the cot Balthazar had been resting on. What was that?

Trouble. Balthazar turned to Woe and Fuego leapt onto Balthazar. The diri climbed up the mage's back to his shoulder while Balthazar listened to the exchange between Woe and the desperate man claiming to have acquired Wildfire. Balthazar was suspicious of the man who seemed to materialize that which had only been a rumor after a visit down to Shanty but he didn't make his suspicions known. He didn't think it was his place. Even though he too was a captain, he felt as if Woe were in charge of the venture because Woe had recruited him. Balthazar refused the Wildfire when Woe allowed it to be distributed among the men because he would not risk letting his senses get dulled. Too much of his magic relied on him being focused for him to enter a real battle high on Wildfire.

"It doesn't work quite like that." Balthazar admit when Woe advised him to scry or Attune to find enemy locations. "It'll take me a few bits but I'll try to see what I can figure out." And he hadn't been in this place long enough for familiarize himself with the etheric signature. He began working on it so that he might be able to conjure a portal in a few bits, but in the time it took for Balthazar to prepare the portal he responded to the other things that transpired.

Woe gave the men the sort of motivational speech only an Empath could deliver and Balthazar said nothing to them when Woe was done. Admittedly he had decided that familiarizing himself with the locations etheric imprint was more important than motivating the soldiers further. Woe moved to Vito but Balthazar did not follow. Instead Balthazar moved towards a wall and pressed his hands against it. He took a deep breath, pushing his sensed beyond the wall with omnivision to see if there was anything worth sensing within his range beyond the wall.

[Woe]

Woe's face softened at the mention of the children. As a former Webspinner, he had a sore spot for orphans and derelicts. Just as the Theocratum took much of its recruits from the youth, so too did the Webspinners. There were rumors of sacrifice and abuse, but these were largely the result of propaganda by the enemies of Sintra. At least, that was what Woe thought. And while Sintra may have no qualms about sacrificing her pawns, Labrae truly cared for the Webspinners she raised.

At any rate, Woe agreed with Vito that the children must come first. "Yes, of course. The children are our mission."

Woe didn't like the idea of all of his men falling, however. It might be best to split them into divisions, as few as there are. It was no good following the orders of two captains at once. They had two commanders, it was best that they use them.

So as Vito began his prayers, Woe went back over toward the soldiers, and let Black attune to the outdoors as he would. He spoke loud enough for Balthazar and all those within the ranks of the soldiers to hear. "Slight change of plans... Half of you, those who have enough of the Wildfire, you're going to follow me in defense of these poor children and civilians. The rest, we'll need your senses to be sharp for the worst-case scenario, a tactical retreat to the Fortress." Woe felt waves of dread ripple out from each of their tangles, but shut himself off from the sensation.

"Captain Black is an accomplished Rupturer. Should this Cathedral come under attack, he can help you lead the civilians into the safety of the Fortress. Those who have courage and mettle, stand with me and fight. Those who are fleet of foot and quick of mind, go with Captain Black to guide and protect the priests and civilians." Woe looked to Captain Black. He didn't expect that the Yari mercenary would object to his idea, but it was best not to step on his toes. This phenomenon of military command was more new to Woe than it was to Black. If he had better ideas, Woe was open to hearing them. He approached Captain Black, and spoke quietly so that no others would overhear him. Although to Balthazar he spoke common rather than Vahanic, so it was unlikely that any of the dragoons would understand. "Does that sound like something you can do, Captain Black? Lead the retreat to the fortress should this chapel fall under heavy attack. I will keep the enemy occupied as long as possible at the barricades... Speaking of which, I'm going to have the men build a barricade..."

Woe lifted his voice again, to address his soldiers, once more reverting to speaking Vahanic. "Help me move these seats to form a barricade, take anything you can find, and build a wall. We will create a bottleneck at the largest entrance, at which to strike at them."

Having commanded them thus, Woe directed them to do as he'd said, and drew his tienite bastard sword. With it, he began drawing a rune of weakness trap at the place where he would arrange a bottleneck between barricades. He didn't know how useful hone magic would be against the Creep, but it was one of the few tools in his arcane arsenal that might help directly against them.

After drawing the first runic trap of weakness, he drew several other traps, along behind where the barricade would be. The creep would likely climb over them and then fall upon these as they made their retreat if the chapel fell.

To the runic trap of weakness, he tied a verbal trigger. The word Entraro. A nonsense word that didn't actually exist, and nobody other than he was likely to use. To the numbing traps, he tied the verbal trigger, "Exira." Another nonsense word.

This done, he thrust the sword back into its scabbard, and began helping the men with the barricades, and waited to see who would side behind Balthazar, and who would form up behind him to make a last stand.

Actions

Woe set up three numbing traps behind where the barricade will be. He set up a weakness trap at where he planned for the bottleneck to be. Hone is Competent. He split the forces between himself and Balthazar. Those with enough wildfire for a dose will stay with Woe and fight, ready to take their dose when things get bad and he gives the order. Those who are fleeter of foot and quick of mind are to follow Balthazar, to help him lead a potential retreat.

Woe is leading the construction of a barricade that will funnel the enemy through the largest entrance, in through a bottleneck.

[Strange]

If it were not for the fine armor and weapons of Woe and Balthazar, it seemed likely that they might have been among the pile of corpses rather than the newly-appointed Captains of the detachment. Certainly, those 25 soldiers under their command were not outfitted so finely or properly. Most of average quality, some with slightly better - and about five of the soldiers had mismatched masterwork pieces that they'd pried from the fallen on the battlefield. The dead didn't need such decent armor, though most balked at the idea of such immediate looting. In fact, one wiry Quacian kept eyeing Woe's lamellar whenever he thought that the mage wasn't looking.

Lucky for Woe, though, that no one noticed the scent that stuck to his armor. If only because the entire Citadel smelled rank of sweat, blood, and misery. Some of the devotees had gotten a hold of incense though, to waft the heady aromas around, but it did nothing more than clog the air with smoke.

Due to the explosions and the sounds, and the echoed layers of church bells, it was clear to anyone with a semblance of where the Creep had been the trial before... that a breech had finally occurred. It had been a fierce struggle to keep the Creep away from the walls, but now there was no way that the sounds happened on the other side of the city.

In those six trials, Woe's faldrunium whip and Balthazar's katana had both treated themselves to the sap of the creepborne. Ferahoms and twisted creations of walking shrubbery spliced with skeletal frames. Both were witness to the Creeps impossibly fast recoveries, as the vines spread across the hillside slopes that led up to the city proper, and leeched the life of nature itself. Lush Ymiden green turned brown and provided growth to the brambles that followed the mobile infantry of the Creep. That was to say nothing of the massive things that accounted for a sort of cavalry, and the giant siege-like trees that walked with roots for feet and swung with their branches like many deadly limbs. The variety of creepborne proved to be immense, and terrifying, and more than once did a higher Dragoon accidentally cry out What in the bloody fates is that!?! before a crushing defeat over their span of battlefield.

For the creepborne had clearly learned one thing before their march, and that was the mimicry of human ingenuity. Everything that the Creep had was some form of contorted mockery of a human invention, whether military or otherwise. Yet, unlike the society it stole from, the Creep remained devoid of actual humanity and the limitations that made humans struggle in constant warfare.

All of the soldiers were aware of this. The citizens weren't, yet. The priests weren't, yet. But the soldiers were. So, when the mutters about the acquired Wildfire reached through the ranks, they all looked attentively toward the sack. Many had reddened eyes that almost hungrily stared at the burlap. These soldiers were exhausted, and they did not think so far ahead as perhaps the others did.

So, it wasn't difficult for Woe to gain their attention. The men and women (for there were about five women among their detachment who had enlisted by choice) watched the mage with varied expressions on their weary faces.

The soldier chosen by the Empath was a middle-aged Shanty man who went by the simple name of Kaye. Nerves steadied, resolve strung, he remained unaware of the ethereal manipulation. Woe could feel the varied levels of fear among the vulnerable soldiers while he went one-by-one through the lot, but it seemed to be working... best he could tell from their tangles, that is. Frustration, anger, panic, grief, all prominent emotions in many of the tangles. Though they did not cheer, for they were not energetic, many of the soldiers did manage nods of agreement.

The ragged soldier who'd run to Shanty, a mid-20s lad known by a nickname of Slipper, grabbed the burlap sack and looked around. With the help of a couple other soldiers, they found some parchment to rip apart and use as envelopes for portions of the powder. At one of the pews, they sat down to separate the Wildfire out.

While Woe spoke with Vito, and surveyed the church, he noticed the many many stained glass windows - and the sets of double doors that granted entrance - one at the far end of the nave, opposite the dais altar, and the other just off to the side. Close by where Balthazar seemed to be pressing up against the stones. From a simple glance, it seemed that the altar was the safest place in the main area of the citadel.


Of all the things that Vito prayed for, it seemed that he'd been at least offered protection... or... a fair semblance of it. Was it coincidence that his spark mentor also found his way to the Citadel? Was it fate? Or was it the Wounded God's will?

In his time overseeing the congregation, Vito had a fair approximation for how many of each type of citizen were among his flock. Specifically, of the children, there were 76. Already not all of them had family with them. Some had been sent to the Citadel's shelter, with siblings, or even on their own. They ranged in ages from the youngest being a babe in the arms of a similarly young mother, and the eldest in their late teen arcs. Many of the latter watched those younger. Then there were the elderly, of which there was 13. A couple pregnant women, and three cripples sat at the front-facing pew in constant prayer. The rest were ill in some manner, huddled in the corner with blankets to keep off their fevers and coughs.

The words that Vito spoke to the Tribunals underneath him did not go unheeded. In their fear, and despair, each priest seemed eager to place the authority in Vito's hands. Each looked to him as they would a Herald, without question or skepticism, but rather eager belief to be told what to do next. It had been Vito that had been placed in charge, and who were they to think otherwise?

So, Vito found no resistance when it came to directing the other Tribunals. They gave him whatever necessary instruments for blood prayer to be conducted.

The priest that Vito targeted with his Empathetic tugging, was known as Tribunal Noam. A sickly pale, androgynous human who seemed to struggle to breath in a steady way while the obsessive fear got ethereally lured to the surface of their tangle. Noam nearly shook from the whisper, then nodded. Their brown-eyed gaze swept the congregation for a moment, then nodded again and said in a hushed voice, "Please, Catechist Vito, let me hold the dagger for prayer. F-for He Who Bleeds."

And when the time would come, if allowed the dagger, Noam would accidentally cut one of the devotees too deep... which one, however, his paranoia would cause him to glance at Vito for direction as to the right sacrifice... in hope for instruction, to place the authority of such a choice in the other Tribunal's responsibility.


Balthazar Black was certainly an odd man out when it came to the Citadel's group. A foreigner, and one not familiar with the native language, the soldiers among the detachment had seen the mage fight enough that they did not care about this. A defier? Many of the soldiers wanted to stay near Balthazar for that very reason, and in fact, some of them had - and arguably, that was why they were alive in the Citadel now. Because they had remained close to the battlemage.

The Grave Gold armor that Balthazar wore (as well as what of Woe's was of the same metal) had gotten flecked and spattered in varied colors of blood. Not the blood of the creepborne, for the Creep did not bleed except for the slow sticky sap that ran through them... but the blood of other soldiers. For once, those who wore Grave Gold did not use the coloration as proof of their might in battle, but rather of the constant death that raged around them.

The diri that followed Balthazar cannot be seen by anyone, not unless Fuego decides to be seen.

Balthazar set to attune, and familiarize himself with the surrounding area, and as he pressed up against the wall next to one of the stained glass windows, Balthazar's omnivision extended past the church gardens and toward the neighboring buildings. In his mind's eye, he saw the shadowy imprint of the street and the building corners. No one was outside, though... well, almost no one. He noticed the blurred figure of a... dog?

Some sort of canine sprinted through the adjacent street, then dug under the iron-wrought church fence. Balthazar could witness, through his omnivision, as this dog headed for the side door where the blockade had just started to be set up. Under all the noise of the bells and the explosions, the faintest whine and scratching could be heard on the other side of the eastern doors.


While Vito attended to the prayers, and Balthazar attuned to the Gleam and witnessed the dog's approach, Woe returned to the soldiers. There wasn't much argument from the soldiers, who had just finished packaging up the Wildfire and handing it to those who wanted some.

"To Fortress?" repeated Slipper with a confused frown. A few of the other soldiers held similar baffled expressions while they looked at each other.

Regardless of this hesitance, they remained quiet while Woe continued to explain. A handful of the soldiers looked over at Balthazar (who was still up against the stones), when it was confirmed that the man was also a Rupturer. Most Rupturers had fled the city trials ago...

The soldiers didn't seem too enthused, but they did nod and seemingly agree to Woe's strategy. A few walked over, immediately choosing to go with the Rupturer Balthazar. Slipper was among them.

Kaye remained next to Woe, however, and as soon as the command came to form a barricade, he started to do so. The easiest and most obvious was the polished stone pews. With a soldier at each end, they started to create a funnel for which any entered Creep would have to go through. Of course, it wasn't very high, yet, and the soldiers quickly broke into a sweat from the exertion of moving the furniture. The citizens moved away from the effort, busy instead with the blood prayer on the opposite side at the dais.

There would be some time, before the barricade would be fully in place. With the runic traps set down while the barricades got set up, Woe managed to get about seven down by the time that he heard a commotion at the altar. It seemed one of the Tribunals had cut a little deeper than usual to one of the citizens, and now the collection basin had started to overflow red.

So far, Woe found that he had ten soldiers with him -

- while fifteen had chosen to go over to Balthazar.

Woe

Woe, could you please add a note in your next post for where your portal boots are linked to?

Vito

You know of two other doors in the church that could provide exit/entry, that aren't connected directly to the nave. One is a basement door, and the other is the side corridor door. You're also aware of the basement level underneath the church, and the upstairs of the church. Herald Vatia gave you the keys, but you haven't found time to explore all of the locked-away rooms in the basement yet (such as the Herald's office).

Balthazar

I chose the eastern wall for Balthazar to use omnivision through, since I didn't see anything specific about which wall. Also, you'll have to choose whether to let that dog in or ignore it.

!	Message from: Strange
	Attached below is the updated map of the church and nearby area. The cleared space is specifically for Balthazar but he can share it with the other two, if he chooses to.

Location Map

[Vito Rossau]

66 YMIDEN, ARC 720
CITADEL IN GLEAM

“For He Who Bleeds,” repeated Tribunal Vito. After blessing the sacrificial dagger, giving voice to the words he had heard from Heralds’ mouths for arcs, he handed the blade to Tribunal Noam and nodded for them to begin. He stepped forward to address his congregation, and though his eyes were caught briefly on the soldiers that began to rearrange the pews, he did not allow himself to get distracted by the sight. As much as it displeased him to see the Citadel disrupted for battle… it was better to have a messy church than another uninterrupted line of corpse-filled piles.

Vito took a deep breath, and then began to lead them through the prayer. Countless times he had uttered the words, and shed his blood, in the name of the Wounded God – yet there was a passion that bled through his steady voice now. His devotion was no stronger, no more certain than it had ever been… but he had faith in his fear. Even if the Creep overtook their holy sanctuary, even if the remaining soldiers were all granted deaths far worse than he had ever given to the worst of heretics, even if the congregation was divided and sent into disarray… the Wounded God would provide. He would keep His true believers safe. He had seen them through destruction before, and He would see them through it again. In these core things, Vito had no doubt.

As the members of the congregation approached the altar and lined up to await their turns shedding blood, he continued through his fervent, fanatical chants. While Tribunal Noam took to the sacrificial cutting of flesh, the biqaj motioned for one of the other Tribunals to step closer. He leaned only slightly to whisper, “you and Catechist Noam are to stay near me, no matter what. If the situation worsens, we take the congregation downstairs.”

With that said, Vito took his place near Tribunal Noam. The noise of moving and stacking stone pews was not… particularly pleasant, but he ignored the working soldiers as best as he could. Back straight, shoulders back, he kept one hand behind him while the other was placed upon either the head or the shoulder of each devotee as they took their turns at the altar. He said a blessing over each of them, and watched their blood drip down to mix together in red and silver collection.

When the time came that most of their devotees had shared in sacrifice, and an expecting mother was one of the last few to partake, he set his hand upon the woman’s forehead. Vito’s voice carried through another blessing, but this time, he attempted to sift through her tangle for any signs of… peace. Acceptance. The new Empath struggled to identify or single out the threads however, if any had been present in the first place, so he settled for something a bit less defined, if not quite what he wanted – hope. He attempted to lift it higher, closer to the surface, if he found it. Either way, his attention was pulled to his fellow Tribunal soon enough, when he felt their paranoid glance.

Vito nodded for them to continue.

Blood dripped – no, gushed forth from the deep cut that was made, for how quickly it spilled over the woman’s arm and into the collection basin. The biqaj set his hand over her shoulder, either to keep her calm or to keep her still, it was not clear – and he looked over his congregation while the blood began to overflow and coat the floor around the basin.

“He Who Bleeds has spoken,” the young Tribunal claimed, “He will keep us safe if we will only honor Him, and provide Him with the strength He needs. You,” he looked back to the woman, “will ensure the safety of everyone here.”

Vito nodded for the other Tribunals to begin the ritual again, and for Tribunal Noam to assist him in keeping the woman still, if she made any attempt to resist. He took the sacrificial blade, and as his chanting began again, louder… he slit the woman’s throat.

OOC

Vito has chosen one of the expecting mothers as a sacrifice, and has decided to take the congregation to the basement if things get worse.

!	Message from: Strange
	The blood sacrifice happens without issue (barring any PC involvement).

[Balthazar Black]

66 Ymiden 720

Burning the incense did some good that most of the ones burning it probably had not considered. It filled the room with smoke but where there was smoke, there was fire and where there was fire Balthazar did not have to expend nearly as much ether to create it himself. Incense burned slowly but it did burn and Balthazar could feel the faint flame chewing away and creating the scented smoke as it called to him. A readily available source of his closest friend. Fire.

Balthazar was fortunate there was only one Immortal he held any steadfast belief in and he'd resolved not to meet that Immortal totrial. It gave him a certain clarity of purpose he felt those making blood sacrifices did not have. Then again Balthazar had learned in Viden (through a professor named Doran) that there was power to be tapped in blood. Perhaps these Quacians had figured it all out and their prayers would provide some tangible aid, but if not then Balthazar wanted to be prepared for them. His senses spread farther around the building than he'd expected them to and as they spread, a bright, prismatic glow shined out from the lines divide Balthazar's eyes. Even with his eyes closed, the glow could be seen through his eyelids.

There was no immediate movement and no new sound of battle that came when Balthazar's senses began to encompass the building. The sounds of the fighting became more clear because the mage was hearing beyond the walls now, but there was still nothing remarkably close to them until suddenly Balthazar felt the four legged shape of a canine approaching the wall. "Dog outside." Balthazar mumbled to anyone around who would hear it but when no one responded, Balthazar grimaced. Did he let it in? No... too dangerous. What if it wasn't a dog? Even if it was, why let it in? Run along little dog. Get out of here. But the vague canine shape was still at the door.

Balthazar did not think of preparing some form of tactical retreat until Woe returned and mentioned it to him. Woe seemed rather set that Balthazar would lead the backup team- the team meant to retreat to the fortress should the worst transpire but Balthazar didn't quite agree with the placement. He was indeed an accomplished Rupturing mage but he a more accomplished Defier ad vain as it might have been he thought he'd be of more use on the front lines than Woe. The boulders that had crushed the captains before them had crushed those captains because they were not near Balthazar. If a boulder was to crush Woe, it would be likely for the same reason... but there were other logistical reasons that Balthazar did not agree with Woe. All the same he waited until Woe came to speak with him quietly before voicing his concerns. "In theory I can make a portal to the Fortress," mostly because he'd been there in one of the prior six trials to prepare unlike this cathedral he was in now. The Fortress had always seemed like the easiest fallback point and as long as it was in his range, Balthazar could get them a passage to the Fortress, "but it'll be hard to get everyone through it if we're under attack at the time. It'll take time to prepare as well. Portals beyond my range of sight are never easy to form quickly. Depending on how far it is I might not even be able to create a portal in time. But don't worry, if it comes to it I have something prepared."

He'd never tried to push his portal into a wider gateway but in theory it could be done. Balthazar just wasn't sure they wanted to rely on theory when it came to the number of lives in their hand. Balthazar didn't mention that he'd considered his ability to cross into the Veil as another escape route for the masses because he wasn't certain that would work for all of them either. He was just hoping the Cathedral wouldn't fall but the number of windows frightened him a little. With more time and ether, Balthazar would have created massive stone pillars to block the windows, but he had decided his magic would be better used burning whatever came through them. There were too many windows to barricade and not enough time based on the sounds outside the Cathedral. All the same when Woe had ordered the men to make a barricade and went about applying his runes in various places while Balthazar drew his senses back inwards from the exterior of the building. "As far as I can tell, the windows are the biggest weakness in this building. We could break down some pews and try to barricade them but I don't think it would hold long enough to make a difference." Well... Balthazar was certainly being a downer there. He noticed the men getting tired and leaned towards Woe.

"You should make the citizen assemble the barricade. Our men will need their strength for the fighting and they're tired already." Balthazar pointed out with a whisper but it was more or less too late. The men had built their barricade so Balthazar reported to Woe about what he'd seen beyond the walls "I couldn't find anything around us except for a dog clawing at the eastern doors." Balthazar said with a gesture towards where he'd sensed the canine shape. Yet that was when Balthazar heard the yelp at the altar where the blood sacrifice was being taken. He turned an angry eye towards the proceedings but bit his tongue. He couldn't judge their beliefs... but their actions did not seem to be helping. Shed blood and sweat fighting, not just blood into a bowl. Then the priest began to bring a dagger up to the woman's throat and Balthazar realized the intent behind his words.

"Wait! St-" but the blade flashed across flesh and crimson poured from the woman's neck into the bowl. Balthazar's eyes widened in anger. He'd seen the bloodletting and he'd been willing to permit it because at the end of the trial the harm was temporary... but murder... he'd never been alright with that. He reached out with his Attunement spark, this time prying into the leader of the ritual, Vito. Balthazar's angry eyes began to glow the same prismatic colors they had when he projected his senses beyond the building but this time they glowed singularly to attune. Nothing happened- well nothing tangible to anyone but another Attuner, but Balthazar would begin poking around in Vito's frequency to find the madness that had driven his actions.

Discipline alone kept Balthazar in his place with his fifteen followers after Vito murdered the woman but if either Empath looked into him they'd see rage. If they were lucky he'd be able to contain that rage and focus it on the Creep... but when the Creep were gone? Well, that was a question for another time. "What should we do about the dog?" Balthazar asked. It would have been terribly ironic if the dog was a sacrifice sent by their Bloody Deity.

Is she dead? Fugeo's voice whispered into Balthazar's mind. The invisible diri hadn't stopped looking towards the sacrifice.

Yes.

Why?

Because they are cowards and fools.

Why didn't you stop them?

Because I am one too.

!	Message from: Strange
	Balthazar has Attuned to Vito's Frequency within 30 seconds of starting. He receives the following Notes from Vito: Duty Faith Certitude Pride Biqaj Calm Discipline Necessity Empathy Magic Control Authority Theocratum

[Woe]

While he was busy preparing the bottleneck, it did occur to Woe that perhaps the Creep would be able to climb in through the stained glass windows. He didn't want to spend all of his etheric potency, however, drawing runes over the windows in the event that they came through that way. Woe would do what he could to cover the flanks and rear of the positions if they came in bypassing the barricades.

Woe overheard Balthazar mention the dog. As he did, he activated his omnivision, sensing out the animal's position. How odd, for a dog to be in Quacia. With food so scarce in the best of times in Quacia, and meat being precious, pets were a great luxury that few could afford. Much less a dog the size of this one. Strays were unheard of, and more often were thought of as food.

Woe shook his head at Balthazar, "I don't like it. There's hardly any dogs to be spoken of in Quacia, and yet here we have one that scratches at our door?" Then again, if it wasn't a changeling or some other artifice of the Creep, it might be a Becomer, like Llyr. But then why would the mage take such an unlikely form as a dog?

Woe was indecisive. So as he attuned to the dog's frequency, he attempted to search for any semblance of a tangle. If it had one, it was probably not the Creep and most likely a mage in the assumed form of a dog. If not... Well, Woe didn't want a repeat of trying to search the tapestry of a creepborne.

As the moments passed, Woe was once more distracted, watching the congregation's proceedings. There was a conversation between Vito and some of the catechists and tribunals. Then, blood sacrifices began. Woe didn't know how Balthazar, being a Yari, would react to such displays. At first, it looked like he didn't mind when the people began voluntarily giving blood. However, when one was given to a larger sacrifice, one that demanded a life and one yet to be born, he detected a change in the mage, Captain Black. There was an unbridled rage. Woe could understand on some level, as his anger bloomed into a terrible firestorm that threatened to seize him. Woe felt compelled to lay an etheric pincer on the threads of his tangle, to try and calm his rage, and hem in some of it for when they needed it.

Woe couldn't tolerate a member of his unit turning against the very people they were seeking to protect. The anger would come out when it was useful, against a target that was a higher priority.

As the mortalborn saw the blood flee the young mother, he was taken again with the subtle magnificence of their religion. The utter devotion and deep faith that prompted them to such acts of murder. He thought to himself, as the woman was exsanguinated for the good of all, Magnificent.

As for the dog, and Balthazar's question about it...

Woe had yet to make a decision. If it was a Creepborne, it would likely show up as he attuned and tried to view its tapestry (if it had any). But again, it was strange... "Quacians don't have dogs..." Woe repeated, vexed severely by this issue. If it was a mage, it might be of help. Otherwise, it seemed like too much of a risk.

!	Message from: Strange
	Woe attunes to the frequency of a... Dog, and gets the following notes: Canine Escape Lost Search He uncovers a tangle and observes the following threads: Confusion Panic Fear Hope

[Woe]

Woe felt himself mad for even considering to let anything through the door, yet... It was a ordinary dog. By all the magic he had he couldn't find anything askew about it. It was neither Creepborne nor Spirit. In the end, he decided it might be useful, if only to lead a way for the others that didn't intercept with the Creep. Dogs were said to have very strong senses. It might prove useful, especially if Woe kept it near at hand, to monitor it's reaction to various stimuli...

In the end, he waved for Balthazar, "Let the curr inside. It might be useful, but make sure it stays near us. Don't let it disturb the priests' rituals."

So saying, he waited for Balthazar to let the dog inside. Woe would slip out a piece of ration, a bit of jerky that he'd been saving for later. The mortalborn, however, could afford to go hungry. He couldn't afford a dog tramping all over the blood rituals and giving the priests a fit. So as the canine came in, he'd offer it that piece of jerky, to befriend it, and ensure that it stayed close to him.

The Mortalborn pet the dog a few times, allowing him to get his scent, and lick his hand if it wanted.

He would see how man's best friend got on with him in his most desperate of hours.

!	Message from: Pig Boy
	Woe's Portal Boots are linked to his house in the Gleam