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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!
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[It had been, Syrlya thought, an ordinary archway. One he's crossed through dozens of times going entering the pier of Seitung Province. He could see the path into the forest right across from it.
He finds himself instead in the cramped interior of an elevator, two dozen others pressed in with him. Everyone looks equally confused. Syrlya looks between every one of them as his fingers skim the tilt of his blade just to make sure it's still strapped to his side. He nudges his way to the front of the group, passing the open door without hesitation--
And then it burns.
Syrlya staggers with a yelp, slapping a hand over the back of his neck.] Ow, ow, ow--[He hisses, twisting to look back at whoever's behind him with an accusatory look.]
[Magic Practice]
[Morning comes, and whatever strange experience Syrlya has walked into hasn't simply resolved itself overnight. Though... even if it had, it isn't as though there was anything pressing to get back to. Not now. In this strange world, there's something right in front of him instead.
The methodology is a little different, but Syrlya gets a quick grasp of the intention of the magic of this world. Words, not gestures, and it turns out his sword is still valuable as a focus. He finds something that resonates with him--semper anticus--and summons up the broom.
He perches upon it as it floats, gripping the handle, and then accidentally plunges it straight into the ground. As it turns out, steering a magical broom is not the same as trying to steer a griffon or a skyscale. He coughs, dusting himself off as he rises to his feet and drags the broom with him. Maybe this can wait for another time.
He looks up at whoever just caught that, as if he didn't completely beef the attempt.] How is your summoning coming along? Do you need any assistance?
[Research & Recon]
[Wanderer's tasks are in alignment with what Syrlya wants to do anyway--get some information about this place, better understand what he's working with when his own magic seemingly doesn't function this far from Tyria.
He purses his lips, humming before turning to whoever was listening with him.] That doesn't give us much to start with. There must be a library that can tell us more about the spirits and history of this world. Though, since we're already on the manor's grounds perhaps it's best to start with the second task.
[Wildcard]
((Something else in mind? I've got my plotting post over here.))
research
...
Is that a tree? ]
Uh...don't you want to look for a library first? The magic one seems harder to me, anyway.
[ Hi, Tree Man. ]
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[Normally.]
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[ Probably not. That's part of the challenge, though, isn't it? ]
I guess locating it's the very first step.
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[ He gestures towards beyond the courtyard with his head. He is trying very hard not to figure out what's going on with Syrlya. ]
I guess we'll see what's going on around the building...but I wouldn't really know what to look for. Anything that looks or feel strange, I guess?
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[He glances aside.] I'm Syrlya, by the way.
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magic practice
Stiiiill figuring out the, y'know, that other thing. The focus?
[ He's moved out of the library for some fresh air and has taken a seat out here in the gardens instead. A change of scenery might help, he had hoped, but so far? ]
So, uh. [ He's going to squint at Syrlya for a moment. ] Is being a plant normal where you're from? J... just wondering.
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[He leans the broom into his shoulder and gives Bruno a once-over.] As for the focus... I suppose you didn't arrive with anything suitable? A trinket, perhaps?
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[ Look, he's never left the valley. Maybe the rest of Earth has plant people! Anyway, his gaze wanders off again, lest he stare too long at Syrlya. ]
But no. I mean, I showed up with a bucket? And Rodrigo but I don't think I can use a living creature as a focus? I mean, that'd be weird. Kinda rude, too, like, he didn't sign up for that.
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Sentimental? I don't know... I did show up here already wearing my ruana. [ Which he's reluctantly left in his room to wear the green-trimmed coat the scary boy with the hat made him take. ] But that doesn't feel. Right? I guess? But I don't really got much else to be sentimental about.
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Arrival
What? I had nothing to do with whatever happened.
[You see him with a burning poker in his hands, pal? He sure doesn't have anything that could have caused what Syrlya just felt, yup]
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His shoulders sink a little.] I'm sorry, this all just has me on edge. Did you feel that too?
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[Kiryu doesn't mention it, but he has a feeling whatever brand he got onto him has gotten integrated onto his yakuza tattoo. That's a little messed up of the magic to do!]
Does the spot you got burned on mean anything to you?
[Just trying to confirm to see if he's an outlier on this!]
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Then he drags down his collar and bows his head.] Can you tell me if there's anything there?
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It's some sort of marking. How to describe it...
[Hmmmmm...
He begins trying to make an outline with a finger in the air. It's not great because seriously, have you ever tried to demonstrate something like this? It just never works]
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He'll just have to find a mirror.]
So it is... some sort of branding. [He scrunches his nose.]
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magic practice
With the grace of any properly socialized teenager, he asks: )
... Are you always. green?
( oh my god mika you can't just ask someone why they're green )
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( He isn't sure the "yes" exactly reassures him, but he isn't sure if he has cause to be on high alert, either... )
Are you actually a plant, or do you just look that way?
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Absolutely not. I hate humans.
( Supporting the Charr just because they hate humans too—
A beat, as he considers - he's not really proud of what he is, given he also hates vampires, but it's also not a secret what he is, either. )
I'm a vampire. I don't know if they have those where you're from. ( He says that with a sort of tone like "lucky if you don't." ) Won't be a problem for you. I don't smell any blood off you.
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