[mission: hyrypia] i lived on dread

[onemind]

CHARACTERS: Everyone
WHERE: The Red Coast
WHEN: The Night of DAY :038 (man this sucks syntactically, doesn't it? - just go with it)
SUMMARY: The dread returns; the Hosts hatch a plan to ferret out the identity of the Enemy agent and chase down loose ends.
WARNINGS: N/A. Need something added? PM the mod account!

WHALSOME HOUSE
DAY :038 (NIGHT)

GIMME BACK THAT OLD FAMILIAR FEELING
IT'S ONLY JUST FULLY DARK when the nauseating sense of dread - some primal, instinctive fear of the symbiote - triggers for a third time. In the immediate aftermath, a fundamentally commanding voice manifests itself in the minds of all Hosts. Siva'co says:

( Return to our quarters immediately. There is no time to waste. )

In the cramped Carbauschian rooms of Whalsome House, an impromptu and desperate meeting is held and plans are hatched. Utilizing the radiation tracker Pidge spent the afternoon building, a small contingent of Hosts will attempt to infiltrate the Admiral's quarters in the effort to find evidence that somehow links him to the charred circle before the evidence has faded. However, with security so tight and an entire Pilgrimage of envoys milling around in the courtyard out of fear of either being murdered, attacked by some wild creature, or having their stuff set on fire, sneaking anywhere is easier said than done.

Luckily, there are a lot of helping hands ready to change that.


I. THE ONE MAN SHOW
YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT MUSICIANS. It's that they have impeccable timing. Attempting to thin the crowd while more over the top plans can be implemented, Gildor makes his way from Whalsome Home to Tyrisson Town's square. There he'll be staging a Very Enthralling Performance. Unfortunately, the effect only works on those that can actually hear it. Other Hosts will need to help encourage attendance and keep the crowd happy for as long as they can while elsewhere…--


II. OOPS, I ACCIDENTALLY AN ARSON
WHY MESS WITH A WINNING STRATEGY? Setting stuff on fire certainly seemed to do the trick covering tracks made earlier in the day, and that's the go-to plan for the evening. While Gildor's performance manages to contain some of the the area's denizens, it'll take more than sad songs to draw everyone out of the Whalsome Home and thin the guard detail posted there. So let's go big, shall we? The Hosts will compel a Red Coast local deep in his cups to stagger out of the public house to one of the storehouses keeping casks of harvested Garstall fat. There, the Hosts will make sure she makes a very flammable accident.

The storehouse catches fire with all the enthusiasm of a matchstick. With the breeze coming off the water, it isn't long before the fire is raging-- and then threatening to jump to other buildings: neighboring structures containing more Garstall fat, lacquers and glues, and who knows what else. Should those areas be consumed by fire, it's only a matter of time before it travels to devour the rest of Tyrisson Town. The stones won’t burn, but the roofs and the tapestries certainly will.

The immediate and very real danger is enough to drag every able-bodied Red Coast locals to attempt to fight the fire. The guards patrolling the courtyard surrounding Whalsome Home will rush to assist and compliments of individuals from each envoy may be persuaded to help join the effort to save the town. While this won't empty the Whalsome Home or Tyrisson Manor completely (there are more than a few individuals who would rather stay safe in their respective quarters than run down to fight a fire - they have servants to do that), the fire certainly thins the ranks enough to make the mission of the infiltration teams feasible.


III. ONLY YOU CAN STOP DOCK FIRES
LOOK, NO ONE WANTS TO BURN THE PLACE TO THE GROUND. We just want to keep it burning for long enough. Which means hampering fire relief efforts because, as it turns out, the Red Coast locals know how to deal with fire. Bucket brigades are quickly implemented to start soaking the structures closest to the burning storehouses in an effort to keep the flames from traveling; further, it isn't long before the locals are breaking out hoses and technomanced pumps to churn water up from the sea in an effort to douse the fire.

So there's plenty to mess with - whether it's exhausting relief efforts, sabotaging equipment, or pushing people around until tempers flare alongside the literal fires.

Between the Host's efforts to slow the relief efforts and the extremely flammable nature of the Garstall fat, the fire will burn for most the night. Unfortunately, the major envoys in attendance won't be there for the entire night - over the course of the evening, they'll trickle back to their quarters to catch a breather and get some rest. Better be quick about…--


IV. SNEAKY SNEAKS BEIN' SNEAKS
BREAKING INTO TYRISSON MANOR is no easy task. However, thanks to quick thinking to reroute and/or disable the guards and the communication perks of the mental link, a small contingent of Hosts is able to wind their way through the palatial, completely ostentatious rooms of Tyrisson Manor and eventually reach the (comparably) quiet wing where Shee Naraxa and Casiria are sequestered for their mourning ritual. Luckily, the fires seems to have drawn their attendants away from the area; unfortunately getting them to break from their mourning sequester for a quick conversation may be more tasking than reaching them. Further, the demands of the manor's security will eventually trigger a changing of the guard - better to get in and out as quickly as possible before someone catches you in the act. Meanwhile…--

THE ADMIRAL’S QUARTERS ARE UNASSUMING and, at least for the moment, unguarded. That isn’t likely to last long though. The team infiltrating will be able to break in and begin searching through the building for the evidence they seek. It will quickly become apparent that thought the front of the building had little to differentiate it from the standard housing, within the layout of this section of the Descendant housing varies radically from Sam's shared memories. Here, thick dark curtain have been hung to divide the shared room into closed off sections; beyond the last curtain lies a large space which must clearly serve as the Admiral's private quarters, complete with a folding desk meant for frequent travel. This space is dimly lit by several technomagical lanterns, and it is very, very quiet. The desk has several papers on it - the sort that someone would notice if they went missing -, an intricate pen in a stand and a seal, as well as a small dock for an absent communicator, all placed very intentionally.

Pidge’s scanner is working, and with a little Luck it can detect a spot of lingering radiation emanating from a burlap sack tucked away under the bed. Inside it is a set of Descendant clothing soaked in shockingly, unsettlingly fresh blood.* The evidence has been stored hastily - the bedclothes are disturbed and messy in a way nothing else in the room is.

However, it isn't long before the search will have to end. Despite the ongoing fire the Descendant security will return to their posts even if the Red Coast locals and Tyrisson guards continue to battle the flames. The Hosts will need to slip away before that happens and make sure they leave no evidence of their intrusion behind.


V. REGROUP
THE FIRE EVENTUALLY GOES OUT though the air remains choked with smoke and ash, and the lanterns that line the streets give off an eerie glow through the haze of it - sickly red and orange. The envoys are encouraged to return to the Whalsome Home. Exhausted and soot-smeared, the Carbauschians are no different. It will give everyone time to regroup - and report on what they’ve found.


VI. ONE LAST SURPRISE
DURING THE LAST DREDGES OF NIGHT a second interruption arrives at the Carbauschian quarters via a quiet knock on the door jamb of their barracks. It's one of the Red Coast servants and she is accompanied by two clearly exhausted guards. The servant gives the Hosts a short, perfunctory bow.

“We greatly regret the events of the past days, and House Tyrisson feels it would be best for the Pilgrimage to move on from this tragic place as quickly as possible. The House wishes sincerely for you to put these terrible things at your backs as you move on to more promising lands, all with the hope that you remember them kindly when you think of your time here.”

With that message delivered, they depart. The Hosts should be ready to pack their things in the morning.

---

((OOC Notes: This log serves as a general catch-all for the events occuring the Night of Day :038 and the immediate aftermath.

*PLEASE NOTE: The set of bloody clothes found in the Admiral's Quarters belongs to the unnamed Descendant from the 'Short Handed' prompt on the Garstall hunt log; any Host who both sees the bloody clothes and who went out on the water for the Garstall hunt (or who has both these memories shared with them via the symbiote link) may recognize this.

If you have any questions, please hit up either the mission's question thread, the FAQ or MOD CONTACT pages!))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Comments

[iuno]

[ Juno is good at very few things, and even those few things are debatable. he knows that. he knows that none of his skills are of any use here, but he can't bring himself to stand by and do nothing to help the relief efforts or the mission, especially not when their mission is the reason all of this is happening in the first place. he's tired of being sidelined out here, feeling this helpless all the time.

the danger doesn't bother him, so he helps. he keeps his finger on the pulse of the Nest while he's at it, an ear to the ground for any change of plans, and so his attention snags on the way that Bakugo's focus swerves in his direction, that shadow of Nureyev: Juno, you idiot— ]

Me? [ he's pulled into motion by Bakugo's grip on his wrist, bristling: ] What are you doing—

[ the sound of the building giving way behind them is what turns Juno to look back. he can hear the Theia speaking to him in its steady tone, calculations about trajectory and radius and time until impact, how fast he needs to react to avoid it, things he doesn't need it to tell him. they're not going to get out of the way in time. neither of them, not him and not Bakugo, the idiot who threw himself into harm's way to drag Juno out of it, out of childish heroism or a misplaced protective urge, both of which sting like a splinter in Juno's heart. and on some bizarre instinct, he throws out his hand, like that would do anything to stop the collapse—

the barrier that springs up between him and the debris is blue, translucent, shimmering, and it withstands the impact without so much as buckling. but Juno doesn't; Juno staggers, feeling the blow somewhere beneath his ribs as sharply as if he'd been struck himself, and a strangled gasp of pain wrenches from him. it's fine — it's fine it's fine, he's had much worse, grits his teeth against it and keeps moving until they're further away from the danger zone.

once they are safe, a decent way from the building and the frantic relief efforts, he lets himself double over with a weak groan, one hand pressed to the ache. ]

Guess it's too much to ask for a regular freaky psychic shield instead of a double-edged one.

[ not to mention the fact that apparently his symbiote ability is just as self-destructive as he is. ]

[incinerates]

Shut up! I don't want to experience ANOTHER stupid argument between you and Hadr--

[ The building slips, the way he expects it to. One wall crumbles, and he innately understands the way it'll be coming down -- he's annihilated his fair share of structures before, with nothing more than his bare hands and a whole lot of fury. This is different, because while it's easy enough to plant a hand into the ground and blast the two of them out of the way, he hesitates. ( Of all the stupid fucking things to do, he hesitates. Because the majority of the damn team is urging him to play it cool, play it safe. Don't do anything loud and overt, it'll cost them their gains, cost them the mission. It's the worst thing to have hum through his brain, in this moment. Heroes don't hesitate. The nest-connection forces him to. )

Thankfully, Hadrian's old flame has something he can do that's not as loud, or flashy.

The building comes down on the two of them, even as Bakugo twists at the hip and the knee, trading the hold he has on Juno's wrist for one that crosses his hips. It's inelegant, but if he can just get Juno down on the ground, he can get over him. Use the flames and the crack of the collapsing structure to disguise his Quirk. None of which happens, because by the time he's got an arm across Juno, there's a flare of light and the rubble clatters around them in a half-circle. Cascades down into heaps and piles around them, as the world goes at once dark and then bright. He's able to catch Juno as he stumbles, bracing his taller, broader form against his to keep him from going down hard.

At least they're on the move, shortly after that. The silence emanating from Bakugo practically a pillow to be smothered with, as his hands work on reflex and instinct to support Juno while he limps ( he fucking limps out of this -- ), and further still, until he's pushing down on his shoulders to get him to sit his ass down. ]

Don't push. [ His voice is terse, but flat. Like he's moving on auto-pilot. ] You didn't get hit, how'd this happen?

[iuno]

[ he doesn't appreciate being manhandled to the ground like a child, but he buckles because it's easier than putting up a fight, between the splitting headache and the sharp pain in his gut. there's a certain solidity about Bakugo's mind that makes it easier, grounding against Juno's usual restless nerves even without him being much aware of it. sinks heavy into him, makes him stay down where he's pushed rather than struggle back up to his feet. ]

I don't—

[ it's almost automatic to say that he doesn't know when he feels this in over his head. he does know; he just doesn't want to, because he hates this bullshit. but there's the sense of what happened, this reflex that came to him as naturally as sharpshooting does, easy as he fucking breathes. he'd barely even had the thought. which means that something else did it for him, reacted in his place and told him to move, and that's... a nightmare, really. (maybe not enough of one. because it worked, didn't it? it was more useful in that split second than he was.) ]

I think it was the symbiote thing. When the building hit that shield— ugh. [ he curls in on himself slightly, like he has a wound to protect even when he can feel under the press of his hand that there's nothing there, which doesn't actually do anything for the ache. ] Felt like I got hit with a sledgehammer.

[ but the symbiote — the symbiote hums with something satisfied, content. got its claws sunk deeper in him now, settling into its cozy new home. that little corner of his mind doesn't take issue with the throb of pain below his ribs. it seems fair. disgruntled, Juno checks the inside of his mouth with his fingers, and they come away with blood on them. it hardly seems fair to him that something lodged in his brain does some kind of forcefield trick and he's the one that gets stuck with the backlash of it. ]

Is there a DIY check for internal bleeding?

[incinerates]

It's got to be the symbiote doing weird tricks with your anatomy. It's a pretty stupid Quirk, otherwise.

[ What he bleeds is something sore and restless, a sort of insult-and-injury that speaks to deeper wounds than what he pretends he doesn't have. A wounded spirit, perhaps. Juno took the brunt of a pretty bad ( pretty fatal, in any other case -- ) blow, and what little concern bleeds through his walls of fire and force is spun up in a maelstrom of burning resentment. Kid's got an ego the size of the universe, and wounds in it that are festering, at this rate. At least he keeps Juno in place, and he'll continue to do so, even if it means he has to step on him. The non-injured parts. He's not an animal, but right now, he's in fucking charge. ]

It's called "assume abdominal pain as the result of impact injuries has resulted in further internal injuries", moron. That's basic first aid.

[ Shit, he learned that in, like, grade school. ]

You're talking, you're conscious. I need to get you back to the barracks and get someone who can patch up your insides.

[ Though he talks matter-of-factly, it's not like there's a Recovery Girl anywhere around here. Just a bunch of nest agents that he barely knows, and maybe - possibly - one of them has a healing Quirk. Or symbiote-granted power. That's concerning, in a visceral way that makes his hands shake and his teeth grind. ]