EVENT: UNITED EARTH AIR MAIL

[initiatesnpc]

Date & Time: 9/24-27
Location: Throughout Exsilium; above, below, and the in-betweens
Characters: ALL; tag yourselves in
Summary: The United Earth comes bearing gifts oh wait no those are bombs
Warnings: Violence a given, injury, other things probably (notify a mod if there's cause to add a particular warning!)



There was a horrendous symphony being played throughout Exsilium.

Sirens kept tempo, shrilling to life minutes (hours, if the instruments caught a lucky break) before the roar of strange engines affixed to strange machines cutting through the eastern horizon. Always the east; why bother mixing it up? According to drone scans, there was little the island could do to repel them, little to inspire a change in tactic. Amusement, perhaps, but there was none of that in play.

Sirens and distant, ever-growing roaring...and then the thunder and crack of buildings and earth suffering heavy blows from above. Sounds of war, yes, but seemingly so one-sided...

Seemingly.

The intelligence had been too sparse for countermeasures to strange, hulking warriors and supernatural speak. It wasn’t utterly ignored, however; their moles were some of the best. If they said the Initiative had wizards, the Initiative had...something dangerous. Maybe wizards.

Well, maybe those wizards would enjoy being blasted or eroded out of existence? That appeared to be the motivation at-hand as wave after wave of bombings battered the already-broken city, driving its inhabitants old and new underground like ants.

Most of them, anyway.

The United Earth was about to get a heaping helping of fresh intelligence on those wizards the week it struck out beyond its borders. Throughout the barrage, the housing units buckled under broken ceilings, the long-since ruined gardens burned and suffocated under heavy chemical smog, and almost-familiar haunts became cratered replicas of themselves. For four days, the planes kept coming, no matter how many were deterred or destroyed. And on the ground, masked men scoured through battered remains and marched toward the Hold, bent on tearing the place apart in search of valuable clues...and technology well beyond the island’s apparent means. Armed to the teeth, this onslaught was indeed...Armed, but not wholly prepared.

It wasn’t going to be the easy, bullying win it was supposed to be.

Comments

[sithiche]

[ It has been several hours since the bombs stopped falling. The word that had been spreading was that the attack was over, that the remaining Masked had begun to retreat, but they were being told to remain underground to make sure, and to lead the United Earth to believe that they had been successful. Artemis frowns as he makes his way through the catacombs, feeling incredibly restless as the third day of their confinement underground draws to a close with the promise of only more days ahead of them.

He finds himself near the entrance of the catacombs, giving it a considering look. At this proximity he can smell the gases that they've been warned about, though he isn't concerned about being harmed by them. His displeasure at the dank catacombs is almost enough to make him consider sneaking outside when morning comes, and he leans against one of the walls as he contemplates it. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[Koltira hasn't been paying much attention to any announcements--when he wasn't fighting Masked or other ground troops, he was pulling survivors from the rubble and bringing them to safety. His body does not require rest, but it does sustain injuries, and he's fresh from a skirmish with the withdrawing forces when he approaches the catacombs that morning. Blood streaks his face and armor; some his own, some not, though he does not seem particularly bothered either way.

He pauses once he steps inside the dim tunnels, blinking at the long-eared man loitering there. His ears are familiar--but the eyes aren't right at all. Hmm.]

Bala'dash, stranger.

[sithiche]

Hm?

[ His ears shift in attention at the voice before he is turning to properly face the other man. Surprise briefly registers on his features at the familiarity of his appearance, though he is unperturbed by the sight of the blood. ]

[deadelfwalking]

[all right, so he doesn't know Thalassian. Definitely not a sin'dorei, then.]

That is to say, greetings. Are you thinking of a walk? [jabs his thumb towards the entrance.]

[sithiche]

[ He blinks and then smiles a bit at that, giving a soft chuckle. ]

Thinking about it, yes. I... Well, "looking for some fresh air" doesn't really apply here, does it?

[ Even as he speaks, he's carefully considering the other man, though keeping himself from making his analytical mindset apparent. He has been taught to be cautious of others like himself, despite his own instincts telling him that it's nice to see someone familiar, even if he's a stranger. ]

[deadelfwalking]

I'm afraid not. The scenery doesn't have much to recommend it, either. [the glow of his eyes shifts as he glances down into the catacombs.] More interesting than the dark, though, I suppose.

[sithiche]

No, I suppose not. Hard to imagine that it's probably worse than the last time I was up there. [ He doesn't hide the way that he assesses the spilt blood at this point. ] I take it you were up there for the action, yeah?

[deadelfwalking]

['The action' is not the phrasing Koltira would use, but.]

Yes. The fumes have little effect on me, so I joined in the defense. [Following Artemis's gaze, Koltira looks down at himself, then up again, adding--] But even I need to bandage my wounds now and then.

[sithiche]

[ He nods at that. ]

I don't have to worry about them much.

[ He pauses, seeming almost tentative, before adding: ] But breathing doesn't, uh... seem to be much of a concern for you, unless I'm totally mistaken here?

[deadelfwalking]

It is not a concern at all, in fact. [SMALL TERRIBLE SMILE, made worse by the blood smeared all over his mouth.]

[sithiche]

[ He blinks at that, but otherwise manages to keep his face impassive thanks to years of practice at carefully controlling his expression, particularly when around people that for all he knew we also fey and at that moment covered in blood of uncertain origin. ]

Well, I imagine that's convenient at times.

[deadelfwalking]

In times of war, certainly. Socially it's less of an advantage. [The inscrutable glow of his eyes, paired with his guttural voice, make it hard to tell if he's joking--but he's still got that grin on.]

[sithiche]

[ It takes him a moment, but he seems to decide that it's alright to appear faintly amused. ]

Yeah, I can see that.

[deadelfwalking]

[there's a moment of silence, and then Koltira just decides to leave off with this small talk. He's terrible at it, anyway; terrible at trying to be engaging and polite over nothing--or over anything, honestly.]

Your people. What are they?

[sithiche]

[ He blinks at the suddenness of the question, but otherwise seems unbothered by it. ]

Daoine sídhe of the Unseelie Court.

[deadelfwalking]

[YEP THAT'S GIBBERISH. He frowns.]

I'm afraid I'm not familiar with your terms.

[sithiche]

[ OH WELL it was worth a shot. ]

Fey, The Fair Folk... We have many names, I'm afraid.

[theguideless]

[it seems just the barest suggestion of those foul clouds makes Mertin's lungs ache, and his cough is a loud echo, one he tries to stifle as quickly as it's sounded.

yeah, no...he's not going to risk going up there, but can you blame him for wanting a peek of daylight?]

[sithiche]

[ Artemis' ears perk up a bit at the sound, and he is turning to glance at the young man. He normally does not pay much mind to mortals, but...

He finds himself using his affinity for air to easily push the gases away, cleansing the air in the immediate vicinity. ]

[theguideless]

[Martin squints, then blinks, unsure whether his eyes are playing tricks on him. did...

his eyes settle on the...person? he doesn't really know what to call anyone with ears like that.

another tentative glance from the outside to the person again.]

How...?

[sithiche]

[ Artemis cannot help but chuckle a bit at that reaction. ]

A special ability of mine I guess.

[theguideless]

[so it was him.]

That's really...[incredible? for this place? erh--] Helpful. [he laughs a little, sheepish. it's very brief.] Thank you for that, sir.

[sithiche]

[ A faint smile comes to his features. He's not used to helping people, really. His own culture didn't tend to view it as something worthwhile unless you were going to get something out of it. Sometimes he forgot that it actually felt nice. ]

Yeah, any time.

[theguideless]

Is it easy? [blink.] The...[gesture...of...windiness?] What you did. I...I'm not really sure what you did, actually...

[sithiche]

[ He blinks at the question and then laughs when he understands what that gesture was supposed to indicate. ]

It comes naturally, yeah. Manipulating air, to an extent.

[ He's never found it to be very impressive, in the scheme of abilities that his kind can possess, but he's not prone to modesty either, so he's not about to mention that part. ]