Cometh the Big Crying Wheel

[initiates]

Date & Time: Sept 15th
Location: A refurbished castle on the outskirts of Exsilium.
Characters: Anyone at the party!
Summary: Vanadi hosts a party that goes very poorly.
Warnings: Violence, probably! Let a mod know if we should update this.


It’s a lovely night for a party!

The venue at the outskirts of town is, unfortunately, a bit drafty — and actually rather sparsely furnished, as well. In fact, party goers are encouraged to mingle, drink, and enjoy themselves in the courtyard, as the castle itself wasn’t able to be renovated in time, and has proven to be a little bit architecturally unsound. Any explorative guests might find a small hail of dust and pebbles on their heads if they venture too far in — and who knows what else, if they continue on.

But the drinks and snacks both are plentiful and delicious, and the large canvas set up from castle wall to castle wall keeps off the sprinkling rain. The weather could even be described as warmish and pleasant, if one were feeling generous. A group of Exiles plays classic instruments in one corner of the courtyard, having been paid enough to even smile at any Transports that wander near.

All in all, it’s shaping up to be a good night. Until about 10 PM, that is. Come 10 PM, the Misery rolls into town, tearing down the canvas, nullifying powers, and crying corrosive blood everywhere. That’s the cue for all hell to break loose, as the final wave of mind-controlled characters snag their victims and make for the hills — or at least for the UE. The mind-controlled characters will also have the backup of a squadron of 20 of the Masked, the UE's special ops force. The Masked's main goal is to grab those on their list and get away, but they're certainly not above shooting to kill at anyone that gets in their way. They're also highly trained in hand-to-hand combat and physically enhanced by their suits, so they're a good bunch to try to avoid.

But do have a wonderful time until then, won’t you?

Comments

[devotedtothecore]

[ Seconds and minutes, precious seconds and minutes that could be used to save another, to look for the very person this man is after, wasted in this endeavour-- Chrys grits his teeth against the sights and sounds around him, behind them, all too keenly aware of how the best he can do is keep moving and hope not to be noticed, because hell if he'd be able to take on a single one of the soldiers, how useless in this field--

(and maybe, maybe he should've just left Break there to do so instead)

--and said grip doesn't ease until they've put at least two walls between them and the epicenter, amidst a few stragglers limping away or cowering where they hide among the piles of rubble and construction materials (hard to say which is which, now.) There's still the odd sounds of yelling behind them, mingled with gunfire, clashing weapons, hissing corrosion-- outcries of pain, of no, damn you and come back dispersed among them.

It's not as far away as he'd intended, but it's far enough. Curtly: ] I'm setting you down. [ Lowering Break's feet to the ground, finally. ]

[maddeninghatter]

[ As soon as he feels Chrysos' grip loosen, he struggles away, and Houdini-like, wriggles out of the coat. He can barely hear the fighting now, just the wailing, defeated sounds of survivors. It's over. ]

Why--? Why!

[ He's furious. His sword is aloft. ]

Why did you - rescue me? You idiot! IDIOT!

Me, of all people!

[ Although he feels murderous and is vibrating with fury, he knows killing this man will accomplish nothing. He sheathes his sword. It becomes a cane once more. ]

[devotedtothecore]

[ He's swift steps back even before the sword (still dark with stains, with blood) flies into the air, cold sweat on the back of his neck, eyes on Break's hands, Break's face. Chrys has no illusions of his ability to subdue this man before him, now (to survive the attempt), but---

---idiot rings in his own ears, and teeth clench together as he straightens, glares daggers at Break. ]

You would have died, you lightdamned fool--- destroyed! Could you even tell of what was above you and that whole place?!

[ Fingers dig into his palm, a fruitless attempt to stop their trembling. ]

[maddeninghatter]

[ He opens his mouth to retort, but guilt is setting in. It's his fault for slipping away from Oz and Gilbert at the party. His fault for letting this oaf capture him.

More than that, it's his fault for trying to hide what he is from everybody. Concealing his blindness had been disastrous, back at home. Why did he think it would be any different here? Likewise he'd hidden his lethal strength from most people, following his natural instincts towards secrecy and allowing himself to be perceived as a frail, nutty clown. Somebody who needed rescuing. ]

That would have been okay. It would have been fine.

[ He leans on his cane, suddenly feeling very old. He's defeated, by his own stupid vanity, as much as the United Earth. ]