Once again, the foxes hide in their dens and even the birds stop their songs. Creatures remain hidden, fearful.
Rumors pass, a golden-haired figure is seen prancing through the woods, but only ever in the dark. Giggling, from time to time, erupted in the dark.
[!] The Staff Only Door
Word around the inner circles is that Hazel finally did it.
What else would explain the stories?
Passersby swear she'd spent day after day buried in alchemical texts, and even longer shut away in the lab, reducing the possibilities one by one. First the ingredients. Then the proportions. Then the herbs. Then the distillation. Then how many times the mixture had to be passed through mutant blood. Then what kind of mutant blood. Every failed batch narrowed the field until the list of "maybe" became one recipe that supposedly... worked.
By the end of it, no one could say how many attempts had been poured down the drain.
Some insist they saw the final vial.
A grayish-red liquid matching every known description of Bloodwrought Mk. I.
Yet anyone curious enough to slip past the Staff Only sign and search the lab where it all supposedly happened would find it strangely...
Spotless.
No notes.
No books.
No ingredients.
No discarded vials.
Nothing.
As though weeks of work had never happened at all.
Maybe someone cleaned up.
Maybe there was never anything to clean.
[!]
The stench of ichor and death hangs heavy in the air, lingering near the pale oak southwest of town.
Small, shallow graves litter the ground. The cries of woodland creatures echo into the night.
Something lurks in the shadows - A certain void-touched absent from town.
...
The smell only grows stronger every day. Soon, the graves are forgone, the drained bodies of birds, rabbits, and deer scattered around the surrounding woods.
Whatever has called this place home, it seems they're only growing more and more hungry.
“Caw” “Caw”
Birds all around the Spire grow restless as a murder of crows lets itself be seen all around the city.
Many would hear the voice of their friend call at night, only for the source of said voice to
disappear into the sky. The letters do not stop, as many now claim to have understood the truth,
been touched by it to the point that now they feel like a different person. And yet this truth reveals
Itself to be just one amongst many. "This is madness" one poor soul screams at the sky, as a large
mirror is brought to the SIA - "they have started doubting their own reflections". Yet, despite the
chaos, two figures still lament each other's memories deep in the sea, blissfully unaware of it all.
OOC:
[!]
Kyrus is not seen as he had disappeared in the night, missing seemingly as he is not around the SIA, his home, or elsewhere.
In other news, the sounds of massive wings flapping could be heard from the Tourney Grounds, or rather, east of it.
[!]
It's a lovely day in the spire, the sun shines bright and there no hint of a cold breeze.
Spirefolks run around and continue with their day as usual.
A tiny construct in the shape of a fox wanders the streets, despite not having feelings of their own, it seems... scared.
Those who met the giant recognize this one, her name is Nivi.
Usually she never remains far from her creator, but of him? Of Elkaj? There is no trace left.
|
“Run.”
A single word, then there was a loud commotion in the valley of flowers. |
||
| “FIRE!” | ||
| “FIRE” | ||
| “FIRE!” | ||
| “A FIRE BROKE OUT!” | ||
|
Though, there was no fire. Someone was trying to gather attention, they knew if eyes didn’t start looking, they would be dead. Though, when people arrived to put out a fire. There was none. Only scattered strawberries, blood, and a Knight aspirant sprawled near dead on the ground close by. [!] This event pertains to L&K which is a closed event line [!] |
{!} Strange happenings are noticed by those with specific skills… all tailored to a certain type of person: mutants, vampires, and even mages. Rumors carry on the wind with sightings of the Ace and his most trusted coming and going, lugging with them supplies. Finally... the promise of a temporary home beneath the stars has been constructed. {!}
»»———- 🂡 ———-««
A Place to Call Home?
...or, at least a start
»»———- 🂡 ———-««
OOC, please read!
Eagle Eye
With your enhanced vision, you catch an odd movement high up in a tree above the Spire’s fountain, or tucked along the arch of the wing of a statue; generally in various high trafficked locations, but only visible to those with the sharpest of abilities. Upon closer inspection, it is clear: a playing card. Scrawled across it…coordinates.
Unyielding Reflex
Perhaps a stranger seated in the Full Cask overheard your conversation, especially if it pertains to your mutation. On their way out—as if to test their theory—something is zipped across the counter or tossed across the room right for you. Your unnatural reflexes allow for you to catch the item with ease. Upon seeing this success, a flick of the stranger’s wrist reveals a code upon the object. Coordinates.
Pounce
High above your head, something is nailed to a surface. Perhaps a tree’s bark, or maybe wedged in the crevice of a building. Regardless, your mutation allows you to scale the surface with ease; and upon claiming your prize…coordinates, scrawled across a note or playing card.
Precise Senses
You catch a purposefully left trail in the form of cards. The cards are clearly marked with the scent of a mutant, but spread out in such a way it’d be impossible to follow by sight alone. Your heightened senses lead you to each card, before finally reaching one tucked where the waves crash against stone. And there…coordinates.
Supernatural Perch
Thanks to your vampiric affliction, you’re able to reach places others may be unable to. This also allows you to remain in these locations..for that reason, you catch sight of a card tucked away in a place even a mutant’s pounce could not reach and hold. It, too, holds coordinates or a map.
Dubious Origins
You know Thieve’s Cant. You’ve come across cryptic messages that your eyes are trained to understand. Picking apart the words and their code is easy enough. Each word with a specific amount of letters put together to equal numbers, or numbers themselves written to appear like a checklist when in reality you know it to be something else: coordinates.
No Feats or Spells? There's another way...
A popular children's picture book lays before you. It is about an odd group of travelers, each very different; from warring regions, nations, backgrounds. But each one of them has a gift unlike the rest. The ability to launch higher than any mortal man. The ability to follow any trail, to a supernatural level; perhaps even the ability to fly.
The world is not safe for them.
Not alone.
One rises above the rest, searching to bring them together, to bring about an end to their endless hunt and struggle to survive.
Coordinates are sprawled along imagery; of a winding river, and a crumbling tower alongside its bank; resting just north of the river's mouth before it empties into the ocean.
You wonder if such a place could truly exist.
...it seems Enzo wondered, too.
THE COORDINATES:
