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lunaecalamitas2024-04-04 11:33 pm
promittere) wrote in lunaecalamitas2024-04-04 11:33 pm
if you say it's magic, then you're my wizard
WANING GIBBOUS OVERTURE
The seconds tick by, the elevator rattles. There's a soft, musical chime announcing your arrival before the elevator doors creak open, leaving you and a number of others in the courtyard of a stone manor. The manor is large, looming over the trees surrounding it, and the gardens are well maintained, rows of hedges and beds of blooming flowers as far as you can see. The doors linger open until you clear the threshold, as if waiting patiently for you. Dawdle too long and you’ll feel a gentle push, nudging you out into the yard. The doors shut with more rattles and a cheerful ding!, and if you turn to look at it there's nothing to be seen behind you but the milling strangers.
Then there's a sting, mild at first. But soon, the spot where your sage's crest is starts to burn. It's as though you have been branded, and the searing heat clings to your skin. Should you look at your crest, you'll find it glows a faint red, like the dying embers of a fire, but given enough time it will cool to black and no longer hurt.
Once the pain fades, you notice is that the air around you feels distinctly different. It's hard to say exactly what makes it different, or how. It feels brittle, but malleable. That perhaps if you said or did the right thing, you could command reality to your liking—
The wind blows, stirring leaves and flowers, and that's when you notice there are two people in the courtyard that did not emerge from the elevator like everyone else. The taller of the two looks briefly shocked, before a warm smile blots it out, while the shorter of the two looks remarkably unimpressed—for as much as you can make out his expression under the large hat he wears. He glances at the taller man, the charms that hang from his hat clinking, and crosses his arm over his chest.
The taller man nods, turns to the group, and says, "Sorry. I know you were probably in the middle of something important. But...I need you. My name is Tatara Totsuka. I'm your sage, and you are my witches and wizards."
He looks up to the moon hanging in the sky, still pale and visible despite the light of day, and lays it all out for you: a wizard under the sage's guidance is supposed to fight off the Great Calamity—the moon—when it nears. But you are not meant to carry out this task. The original sage and twenty-one wizards suddenly vanished not long ago. No one knows what happened to them, or where they are. They aren't dead. They are gone.
That you are here, that there are so many of you, that you came from different worlds, means that this is a mistake. Something, somewhere, isn't right. Yet the world has decided to claim you in a frantic attempt to keep itself together.
This world is breaking. If you don't fix this, then you'll be stuck here fighting the Calamity yourselves.
When Tatara looks back down to the rest of you, there's a smile on his face, tinged with apology. "But I think it'll be okay. We'll figure this out... Right?"
The golden light of sunset is oddly cold. It settles over you not in a welcoming embrace, but in a possessive hold. There is a sinking feeling in your gut: whatever your home was before matters no longer. Welcome to a world on the brink of destruction—let's hope it's not for good.
The day begins to draw to a close. You're given the rest of the day to process Tatara's words and to familiarize yourselves with the manor. There are plenty of empty spaces in the manor with sparse furniture where you can rest and try to unwind, and hopefully get some sleep. Everything about today might be a lot to unpack, but surely you can at least relax and prepare for the next day.
The morning starts with the sound of bells. A cacophonous racket of them, ringing in your rooms, in your head, jolting you from whatever slumber you can grasp. The source seems to be a note, unassuming if not for the way it shakes with each toll of the bells, and the noise only stops when you read it.
"Go to the courtyard," it says, and if you try to ignore it the noise returns, growing louder and louder until your vision swims and you find yourself standing in the courtyard with everyone else—and the shorter of the two men from yesterday.
"Practice starts right now," he says, looking bored and just as unimpressed as he did yesterday. The sun has barely started over the horizon—it's early, almost absurdly so. "You need to learn magic sooner instead of later, unless you want to die like miserable worms. If you do, just quit now so we can replace you with someone useful."
His explanation on magic is brief—he explains that magic is a deal struck between caster and the spirits of the world, using a meaningful word or phrase to communicate your will to the as-of-yet unseen spirits of the world, who will respond to your desires and power your magic. A focus, an object of significant meaning, will help strengthen your ties to the land and direct the magic for your spells. If you have nothing that would work as a focus right now, he says, chances are the perfect thing will find you anyways.
While he looks unhappy to do so, he emphasizes that magic—as it works here—is all tied to your emotions and your convictions, and then he assigns you a challenge for the week. He wants you to come up with your incantation—the words you'll use to cast all of your magic—as well as find or draw forward your focus, with the final task being summoning a magic broom you'll use for transportation.
Then there's a sting, mild at first. But soon, the spot where your sage's crest is starts to burn. It's as though you have been branded, and the searing heat clings to your skin. Should you look at your crest, you'll find it glows a faint red, like the dying embers of a fire, but given enough time it will cool to black and no longer hurt.
Once the pain fades, you notice is that the air around you feels distinctly different. It's hard to say exactly what makes it different, or how. It feels brittle, but malleable. That perhaps if you said or did the right thing, you could command reality to your liking—
The wind blows, stirring leaves and flowers, and that's when you notice there are two people in the courtyard that did not emerge from the elevator like everyone else. The taller of the two looks briefly shocked, before a warm smile blots it out, while the shorter of the two looks remarkably unimpressed—for as much as you can make out his expression under the large hat he wears. He glances at the taller man, the charms that hang from his hat clinking, and crosses his arm over his chest.
The taller man nods, turns to the group, and says, "Sorry. I know you were probably in the middle of something important. But...I need you. My name is Tatara Totsuka. I'm your sage, and you are my witches and wizards."
He looks up to the moon hanging in the sky, still pale and visible despite the light of day, and lays it all out for you: a wizard under the sage's guidance is supposed to fight off the Great Calamity—the moon—when it nears. But you are not meant to carry out this task. The original sage and twenty-one wizards suddenly vanished not long ago. No one knows what happened to them, or where they are. They aren't dead. They are gone.
That you are here, that there are so many of you, that you came from different worlds, means that this is a mistake. Something, somewhere, isn't right. Yet the world has decided to claim you in a frantic attempt to keep itself together.
This world is breaking. If you don't fix this, then you'll be stuck here fighting the Calamity yourselves.
When Tatara looks back down to the rest of you, there's a smile on his face, tinged with apology. "But I think it'll be okay. We'll figure this out... Right?"
The golden light of sunset is oddly cold. It settles over you not in a welcoming embrace, but in a possessive hold. There is a sinking feeling in your gut: whatever your home was before matters no longer. Welcome to a world on the brink of destruction—let's hope it's not for good.
The day begins to draw to a close. You're given the rest of the day to process Tatara's words and to familiarize yourselves with the manor. There are plenty of empty spaces in the manor with sparse furniture where you can rest and try to unwind, and hopefully get some sleep. Everything about today might be a lot to unpack, but surely you can at least relax and prepare for the next day.
The morning starts with the sound of bells. A cacophonous racket of them, ringing in your rooms, in your head, jolting you from whatever slumber you can grasp. The source seems to be a note, unassuming if not for the way it shakes with each toll of the bells, and the noise only stops when you read it.
"Go to the courtyard," it says, and if you try to ignore it the noise returns, growing louder and louder until your vision swims and you find yourself standing in the courtyard with everyone else—and the shorter of the two men from yesterday."Practice starts right now," he says, looking bored and just as unimpressed as he did yesterday. The sun has barely started over the horizon—it's early, almost absurdly so. "You need to learn magic sooner instead of later, unless you want to die like miserable worms. If you do, just quit now so we can replace you with someone useful."
His explanation on magic is brief—he explains that magic is a deal struck between caster and the spirits of the world, using a meaningful word or phrase to communicate your will to the as-of-yet unseen spirits of the world, who will respond to your desires and power your magic. A focus, an object of significant meaning, will help strengthen your ties to the land and direct the magic for your spells. If you have nothing that would work as a focus right now, he says, chances are the perfect thing will find you anyways.
While he looks unhappy to do so, he emphasizes that magic—as it works here—is all tied to your emotions and your convictions, and then he assigns you a challenge for the week. He wants you to come up with your incantation—the words you'll use to cast all of your magic—as well as find or draw forward your focus, with the final task being summoning a magic broom you'll use for transportation.
Threading out magic practice and ICly discovering your characters' magic words, manifesting their foci, and summoning their broom will count as three different jobs, and will be eligible for a set of rewards each. While not technically classified as a job this time around, this is a special circumstance. When you've accomplished any of these things, please submit them to the rewards page as a job submission.
If you're having trouble coming up with a focus or incantation, think about your answers for the first and third mandatory questions on your app! Your focus of choice does not have to be in your character's inventory—if what works best for them as a focus did not come with them, then they can focus and reach across universes to bring it here with them.
If you're having trouble coming up with a focus or incantation, think about your answers for the first and third mandatory questions on your app! Your focus of choice does not have to be in your character's inventory—if what works best for them as a focus did not come with them, then they can focus and reach across universes to bring it here with them.
JOB BOARD
You may have just gotten here, but people across the continent still need the sage's wizards to do things for them. The job board will typically have 2 - 3 requests each event that can be turned in for rewards when completed.
Sugar delivery. Confectionery shops and pharmacies put in regular orders for wizard sugar to the manor, and despite the unusual circumstances, now is no different. Wizard sugar—sugar spontaneously created through a wizard's magic—is said to have restorative properties and said to bless those that consume it, so it's no wonder it's in high demand. It also happens to be one of the first things young wizards learn to do. So once you've perfected your sugar, go deliver it to the shops in Central capital and to the Southern merchants waiting for shipment near the Central tower.
The Southern merchants, in particular, seem rather anxious to receive as much sugar as possible, as soon as possible.
The Southern merchants, in particular, seem rather anxious to receive as much sugar as possible, as soon as possible.
WANDERER TASKS
The wizards' new mentor knows that this must be an incredibly overwhelming experience, so he has a list of things that should help break down the process of learning and understanding magic. Or that's what he says, at least, but it feels like he's trying to make things more difficult...
Nobody is going to hold your hands for you, and the best way to learn is to understand the root cause of an issue. Use that paper being left around for something actually useful and do some research on the spirits of the countries you've been tasked to represent. I'll be expecting some actual thought out papers within the week.
For the idiots who can't research to save their lives, prove you can actually manage the bare minimum. There's a spot you can't reach without magic within the manor grounds—bring me one of the trinkets you find there.
For the even bigger idiots who are overconfident, come find me and we can spar. I won't go easy on you.
TATARA ACTIVITIES
Tatara knows things are tense and uncomfortable for his new wizards, so he'll offer up a few activities each event post to help them relax if things get too tough.
We're all new here, but we'll be friends before long, I know it! There's a table in the dining room with paper, pens, markers, glitter, and pins so we can all make name tags and get to know each other better. We'll go from strangers to neighbors to besties before you know it!
Oh, you should probably get a feel of the manor, too. This IS your new home, after all! And what better way than...hide and seek?! Sounds fun, right? I'd tell you MY favorite spot to hide, but then that wouldn't be fair!
I don't know how long we're going to be here, so it probably wouldn't hurt to settle in. Grab a friend or two and head to the market in the Central capital to stock up on whatever food you like and stuff for your room. May as well get comfortable!
OOC NOTES
🌙 Welcome to Lunae Calamitas's first event post! Yer a wizard, whether you like it or not.
🌙 While not technically jobs, ICly working out your character's focus, incantation, and broom are all separately eligible for rewards. Good luck on your basics, little wizards! You'll need them...
🌙 Your OOC plotting post is here! Please keep all your plotting on the plotting post, since not everyone uses discord or plurk.
🌙 The South will be going on their mission next week to get this party started. Keep an eye out, Southies!
kicks the kitchen door down
The guy he spies staring down that seaweed is... not particularly friendly-looking, but when has that ever stopped Akira from strolling right on up and making himself someone else's problem? Excuse him while he struts on over and takes a goosey gander at that seaweed packaging.]
You'll have to taste it to make sure it's got the right texture. It probably won't kill you.
put that back!!
He's turning at the door opening, but he's not really expecting the culprit to just...saddle up to him? And get in his space? Excuse him? Shinjiro's lips purse tight as he leans a bit away, but he does let the guy read the label. ]
I doubt they'd put anything that would kill us in a damn kitchen.
[ Food-wise, anyway. But he does turn his attention but to the jar in question, pulling out a piece with a scrutinizing eye. Sure does Feel Like Kombu. ]
If they've gone through the trouble of labelling it, they've probably tried it already.
no subject
Akira straightens up and gives Shinjiro some distance... just so he can appraise him more fully. No good intentions here.]
True, but you never know what might be a hidden trap. [Not even a beat later:] Let me try some? If I keel over from magical poisoning, I want a viking funeral.
no subject
He'll take the space, but the offer does make his frown tick down deeper, making an aggravated noise in the back of his throat. ]
I'm the one lookin' around, I'm not going to ask someone to do my dirty work for me. [ As if testing for potential poisoned magical seaweed is a normal thing to do, either. ] Quit bein' so damn dramatic.
[ Let it be known that Shinjiro Aragaki is no pussy, which is exactly why he takes said tiny piece he was holding and puts it in his mouth. Just to prove a point—
— a point to make a notable choked noise of surprise when there's a sharp loud screech, that most definitely did not come from him and wow this piece of seaweed sure did expand to the size of his tongue, holy christ- ]
no subject
The suggestion that taste testing a little kombu is equivalent to doing someone's dirty work makes Akira smile. So what if he's a little dramatic? Comedy and tragedy are the spice of life, and—]
Whoa.
[Okay. Maybe it's better he didn't eat that kombu. Either Shinjiro really hates the stuff or it's been altered by magic in some way, but rather than nicely asking to try some, Akira tears off a piece and puts it on his tongue. Mlem mlem.
...He doesn't screech when it suddenly expands on his tongue, but he does visibly startle.]
A little's gonna go a long way with this stuff, I guess. What were you planning on cooking with it anyway?
no subject
He sees Akira startle out of the corner of his eye from trying it himself, and takes the opportunity to quickly screw the lid back on. He's just gonna...put this back for now. ]
Shit, that's putting it lightly. [ He's grumbling now, mildly embarrassed. You didn't see anything, bitch. ] I sure as hell hope it doesn't scream every damn time...
[ Good news, they won't run out of it anytime soon. At least the question helps draw his attention from screaming seaweed.]
...I didn't have any solid plans. Though there's rice, and miso...could make Ojiya. [ Easy enough. Or ochazuke, but- ] Dashi, too, but I didn't see anything resembling bonito flakes around, so who knows if they even sell it here.
no subject
I didn't see anything like bonito flakes when I was out shopping this afternoon. I did find everything I need to make some curry, but most of what the vendors had to offer was Western-style fare.
[Which is fine of course, but Akira can imagine the multiple Japanese folks here might yearn for a taste of home before too long.]
You've been snooping around in here, right? Is there a pot big enough to cook up a batch of curry or two?
no subject
Yeah, that's about what he expected, at least. This place seems so...western in nature in just about anything, so the lack of Japanese fare doesn't surprise him. The rice substitute is...alright, fortunately, but it seems a lot of essentials are gonna have to be substituted. ]
Can work with Western fare, depending on the heat. Some of these guys might not be able to hand a lot of spice, and who knows how weird the spices themselves are if just the seaweed is acting up....
[ He does know how to make some Western food, in comparison, so at least it won't be too much of a struggle...life would be easier if he could read the cookbooks, however, rather than playing it by ear.
Hm. His brows furrow. ]
...There's a few that're pretty big. Not sure if it's 'over 20 people' big, but it might do the trick. [ Eyes flicker around, before he turns and points at one of the nearby bottom cupboards. ] All the pots are under there, if you wanna judge for yourself.
no subject
Speaking of cook books, excuse Akira while he looks for those. Rifling through pantries and skimming shelves, he manages to find one that's seen better days, its pages moth-bitten and worn from use. Leafing open to a random page, Akira ogles the recipe for... Garden Salad in Spicy Tomato Aspic. Ah.]
Hypothetical question. If you had to eat only one meal for the rest of your life, what kind of curry would it be?
[Because it sure as hell wouldn't be Garden Salad in Spicy Tomato Aspic. Akira digs through the bottom pantry and pulls out a 16-quart pot. Good. This will work.]
no subject
Going back to his business once Akira leaves his side to go hunting, he pulls the Pretty Much Miso off the shelf next to give it a proper evaluation. The paste seems thick enough, and the smell is fine..? Ah, but he needs a spoon. Can't be sticking any fingers in there.
Shinjiro's opening the drawers when Akira starts talking again, and he pauses, small spoon in hand, to frown- ]
The hell? Why just curry?
[ Does this guy just have a preference or something...he's got little interest in humoring this skinny twink, but at least food isn't a terrible topic. ]
...I prefer pork.
no subject
[Gottem. You can't argue with such flawless logic.]
A good curry has meat, vegetables, and grains. Throw in a little apple for taste and you've got all the basics covered.
[...But, no joke, Akira would also tire of eating nothing but curry after a while. Flipping through the cook book, Akira gives the pork section a gander. Once again, nothing in this book smacks of familiar Eastern faire, but there is a recipe for fried pork cutlet. With the right ingredients and a few modifications, they'd have a mighty fine katsu on their hands with this. Akira slides the open cookbook over in Shinji's direction so he can take a look.]
Something like this? Frying might be a challenge.
no subject
I know how to make curry. [ He sounds a bit exasperated at that, like Akira has some audacity. He's been making curry longer than you, twinky. He knew all the tips and twinks before you picked up a pot. ] And jam's just as good to mild it out.
[ A small little scoop of miso, and a tentative taste, bracing himself for some weird kind of reaction- hm, yeah. That's not too bad, actually. All things considered, better than the Feels Like Kombu, since it didn't start screaming or taking over his mouth. Acceptable.
The lid is back on when Akira slides that book over to him, and he eyes it as he sets the jar back before picking it up proper. A cursory glance over the ingredients and steps, and he gives a slow nod. ]
Adjusting the stove is a pain, but it's doable. [ Although, with a small frown- ] There's no breadcrumbs here, though. I doubt they sell panko anywhere here, so we'd have t' make our own from scratch.