#faceless event

[zikadraws]

[Mediator.EXE approaching the party]

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Satawa Itoru 's about getting *sorta* involved in @ranze 4th wall-breaker 'faceless' event

(*Click for quality*)

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[catnip-smuggler-radio]

They Are Calling

At the ‘Missing Member’ in Limsa, Yimir sat alone at a table with a half-empty glass of lemonade and a deck of tarot cards.  The young man’s hands slowly moved cards from his deck one by one.  But he wasn’t divining a future.  He was playing a game of Solitaire and doing rather well.  His blue and lavender eyes blinked slowly as he took another sip of his cool beverage. “You offering your services?”  came a voice suddenly, breaking the miqo’te’s train of thought.  Yimir looked up as a hooded figure sat down across the table.  Yimir immediately tensed and reached into his wellspring of aether as he prepared to summon forth a blast of golden flame.

“Ah ‘fraid Ah jus’ playin’ a game today.” Yimir responded polity, forcing a smile to his lips as he spoke in his thick, Limsian accent.  In that moment, he looked as he was: his father’s son. “Just as the Twelve play games with us?”  came the hooded person. Their body was wrapped in thick rags and it was impossible to tell anything about who or what they were. “Ah don’ think we’ve met.” Yimir commented slowly, flipping over a card from his desk.  ‘The Tower’ greeted him. The image of the tower ripped apart by lighting made him wonder if the deck had begun divining without his consent. “No, we haven't.”  the figure answered ominously.  “But your father is going to die. As is Haname. And all the others unless you do something to save them.” Yimir felt his stomach knot and he swallowed as he placed ‘The Tower’ card down. “Who are ye!” Yimir snapped, his voice cracking some as he prepared his aether attack. “We are what you need.  We are truth.  We are power.  We are safety.  Your family and friends are rushing to their own demise.  You know this and you are the only one still sane enough to prevent their suicides.  But you are not strong enough.” “Ah-” Yimir stammered, blinking in confusion. He did not have his father’s quick wit for retorts. “How many times have you put them in danger?  How close did Haname come to dying cause of you?  Your father?  Those that died at the orphanage to protect you?  And yet you couldn’t help.  You wanted too.  Tried too.   But you’re too weak.  We can make your strength as mighty as the nobility in your heart.” “How do ye know this?” Yimir inquired, stunned by the words this person was saying. “We see much, child.  We know. We care about this world more than the Twelve, or any other thing.  We want to make the world better. We need those with noble hearts to do it.” Yimir swallowed and then reached for the deck.  He was so shocked and rattled by this moment, he couldn’t think clearly.  What was he to do?  Was this person real?  They knew so much. Could they really offer... ‘The Emperor’ greeted his eyes as the top card flipped over in Yimir’s hand.  He stared at it and then looked at the figure.  The card represented power, authority, and wisdom. The absolute ruler of the world.  The deck was talking to him, Yimir realized. “Does the deck speak to you?” the figure asked, almost smiling with it’s words as if it knew what he had drawn.  Yimir licked his lips. “And what does this power cost me?” Yimir replied softly, nervous at this display of supernatural authority. “Simply that you aid us in helping this world.” the voice explained simply, tenderly.  “Much needs to be done.  And in return, we shall give you the power to save your dear ones.” Yimir flicked his golden tail.  He chewed his lip.  He was tempted.  He’d have been lying if he said he wasn't.  A chance to aid his family?  To help the world?  To have the power to do it.  He almost agreed.  But his father’s words echoed from the back of his skull: Every deal has a negative. And if the person making it doesn’t tell ye upfront, it’s a shit deal.

“Seems like there is no negative.” Yimir added after a few moments of silent thought.  The miqo’te reached for his deck again. “Only the labors and stresses of fixing this world.” the figure said calmly. Yimir’s fingers hovered over the deck.  He swallowed and drew two cards. One for the deal. One for himself if he agreed. The first card was ‘The Sun’, symbolizing a world renewed in blood and a new future.  Though for better or worst was always hard to tell. The second made him pause.  ‘The Fool’, with its giddy face, looked at him.  A sign of idiocy.

A strong wind blew and tossed the cards onto the floor.  Yimir looked up at the figure. “You don’t need cards to tell you the future.”  the words were kind but held an edge, as if the deck had disobeyed.  Dread returned to Yimir’s mind as he rose to his feet and stepped away.  “You can make your own choices.” “Ah want ye to leave.” Yimir ordered, chewing his lip.  “Please, Ah just want to finish my drink and play my silly card games.” “Very well, Yimir Estinoch.” the figure said, rising to it’s feet.  It gave a bow.  The wind that was slipping inside from the open door made their clothes dance widely.  Still, Yimir could see nothing of the person’s features.  Just darkness beneath the cowl  “We shall be watching you.  And please know as you return to the dark, evil world, our offer remains.” Yimir watched as the entire world suddenly faded to black.  He writhed as cold, dark things pressed in around him.  He screamed as he dug inside himself and let a massive explosion of golden aether erupt free. And then he awoke.  He panted, thrashing at his sheet as he feel onto the floor with a  thud.  He scurried across the floor and hit something. He shouted and jumped to his feet as he looked down. His father was passed out drunk on the floor of their apartment.  He was snoring loudly and stunk of booze and moko as always.  Yimir stepped back and then sat on the bed.  He took several long breaths. “Just a dream.” Yimir reassured himself, looking at his sleeping father.  “Just a...” he paused, recalling what Tray had told him about Pheli and the others.  His heart froze and he swallowed.  Had that thing in his dream been...Them? Or was it all just a dream? @the-faceless-ffxiv @smolcatte

[safrona-shadowsun]

Aftermath: Courier’s Duty

<Rp that happened between Safrona and Bennich, with mention of Sylus! Thank you for letting me get in on this. I know I wasn’t able to be involved by much in the final Faceless/Resistance event in game, but it was neat to read everyone’s stories!>

Pausing on her way through the clinic, Safrona eyed the one they had called Sylus holding to a familiar, prone form. She dared not disturb the resting couple, and continued to walk...right through the shadowy apparition of Bennich. Inhaling at the taste of his lingering essence, she instilled her will against her innate hungers and tensed, closing her eyes. "Shouldn't..wander so far from your body, Benni-boy," she murmured quietly, forcing her focus to her working Ethereal.

The shadow folded his arms and canted his head to the side, he had pitch black eyes and a dark grin yet his form was very much Bennich, "Ah, Safrona.. I'm sorry you have to see me like this." He glanced over to the body he was tethered to, it was breathing, but very slowly. "Mm or what, my sweet Red Courier? You'll use me for your bloodwine~" He teased, shadow jumping around her. "As you can tell... Things didn't go my way." He sat on a nearby crate inside the clinic. His very essence was mouth watering to say the least.

Twitching visibly as the shadow galavanted around her, a chuckle withered in her throat as she gave Shadow-Bennich a dark glance, fire lights flickering in the mists of her eyes. "Don't tempt me now. Your little boytoy over there would miss you, I'm sure." She exhaled slowly, the elf gathering her thoughts. "I...have only heard rumors." Crimson brows knit as she gave his body a glance. "What...happened, Benni?"

Bennich put his head down. Oh, that dark cheesy grin. "Wouldn't expect any less from ya, Saf." He tapped the crate idly. "And boytoy? Please, Sylus is..." That hollow cold voice became warm, "My soulmate." He walked over to him cupping the sleeping man's cheek and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "The rumors you hear are true, there was a plague. I was immune." He shrugged, shadow jumping in front of her playfully. "The Collective were marking people. A lot of people joined their ranks. And a lot have left."

He gestured to his 'sleeping' body. "I was marked, I did the bombing that 'killed' seven people. They're actually alive, and I was the one of the main reasons the Collective fell. The final battle took place, hours before you arrived at key locations." He rubbed the back of his shadowy head.

"Well. I used up a lot of my strength and shadow in trying to mend myself... I lost focus and my wounds reopened, some bitch sliced open my neck. Shrapnel lodged in my body that was my fault. I threw a glaive that explodes trying to save others, and I had acid blood around my neck and some broken ribs. I almost died. Would've preferred it over seeing Sylus weep over me." He shadow jumped back over to the sleeping man and nuzzled him.

Her gaze swerved away from Shadow-Bennich's antics, concentrating on his words alone. The occasional twitch of a slender ear toward him signaled he still teased at her hungers, but her resolve was strong. When he finished his story and went to cuddle the sleeping Sylus, she sighed and meandered to the crate he had touched.

"I remember the plague part of it all uncomfortably well. Took me a week to feel like myself again. And you...horrible bit of chaos. Brilliant move, though I do want to hurt you just a touch. The 'murders' were very...convincing. Ah, but that would be quite unprofessional of me." The smaller crate was opened and two familiar bottles of red pulled and placed atop it. "Late to the party as I was, I figured it'd be best to be here, doing what I do. At least you returned the little hero."

The bottles were carried over by hand to set on a surface near the couple. "Have your lover give your body these, and more, if you need them. They'll get you to recover faster, but you know that." Her eyes softened slightly as she stared on Sylus and Bennich. "Don't make him wait so long. There's only so much a soul can take, however much he's bonded to you." She looked away. "Trust me, I know."

Bennich looked away, "I made him wait long enough, Safrona. There's something I want you to do for me." He bit his bottom lip, his body had a tear stream down it's face. "There's a letter in my bag with.. A ring. I want you to place it in Sylus' hands. It might be bloody but it's there and legible." He mumbled running a hand through the sleeping mans hair.

"I joined the Collective a few days after the plague outbreak, though I got mind controlled before that happened. Ended up being a scout for them unwillingly." He laughed for a moment, "I hope it's the good stuff." He purred.

"Well at least you're here for the aftermath, heh hero? Please I just wanted to atone for my sins... Oh yeah I was the one who put the jammers up.. I created a whole little thing only to take it down when I realized I 'killed' my friends." He pursed his lips and shrugged, "I'm surprised you didn't get marked in all honesty, thought you would've."

A slow smile, and Safrona did as requested and rifled through Bennich's bags, finding the bloodied ring. "They did try, the Voices. Drove me a bit mad when I refused. But I've danced to the tune of another piper once, and I bear a few marks of my own for that fallacy." Wiping the little ring of blood off on her cloak until it shone, the Courier leaned down to gently pry the sleeping Sylus' fingers open and tuck the ring within his palm.

"I belong to the Dark, in the end, Bennich, but my Path is my own until the day I breathe my last and return to its Embrace." Safrona smirked, tone playful. "Besides, who will sell all my wine if I am busy trying to deliver Azeroth into the Dark Below, or the Great Nightmare? Are you going to make all my deliveries? No, I think not."

The elf gave Sylus' hand a little pat, and Bennich's hair a bit of a ruffle, and called her Ethereal to her side. "Now then. Make sure he doesn't drop your little gift. I need to go and....drain the hell out of something before you do drive me to madness. Stay out of trouble, lovely boy."

( @bennich-darkfall, @corruptedtoxins, @the-shieldedmind, @the-handmaidens-collective, @we-the-faceless)

[ishnelo-blog]

The Eclipse’s End

She had known, walking onto the golden beach that it would be her last walk there. The Priestess took a moment to enjoy it, to remove her boots and feel the shift of the grains between her toes. It was quiet, the fierce battles that rocked the rest of the world not reaching this silent place. There was only the sand, the waves and the sky to be her companions through the long night. Eclipsed eyes lifted to look up at the stars twinkling sleepily in the heavens, a soft smile crossing her face. At least she was in good hands. The redhead traipsed down the shore, finding a nice open spot on one of the small peninsula’s to sit down and rest. A hand raised to cover the mark on the side of her neck, her delicate brow knitting together. She had asked for this, wanted it even, but what had it gotten her? There was no freedom from her own memories. There was no way to erase the many, long years of agony and she had been a fool to think that this - of all things - was her answer. A willing pawn in Their game she’d been, but no longer. The Priestess withdrew a slender dagger, the blade having been a gift from a man she’d loved in another life. He’d always known her fancy in weaponry, the beautiful fool. She’d miss him too.

Izlynn sat on the sands for a few hours, watching the night around her grow darker and the stars above glow more fiercely, as if they too were fighting back the encroaching shadows. She breathed in the cool night air, ran her fingers over the sand and her robes, memorizing the feel of things as she thought about Cassiel’s voice - his true voice - and the way he smiled at her. He had saved her and in the end, he had given her the strength to do what must be done.She would be eternally grateful that fate had placed the man in her path, and ever regretful that their time together had been so short. But this was for him. It was for all of them. The Eclipse took the dagger and placed it to the ivory skin that covered her heart. She had been a Lioness. She had been ‘Ishnelo’ of the Crimson Ring. She had been flogged and whipped and beaten past the point of reasonable recovery, but she’d made it through all of that with her head held high. It had turned the woman into a hardened warrior, a veteran of agony, a champion of pain. This would be nothing. She would bear this cross into oblivion. Izlynn took one final deep breath, one more look at the stars before thinking of the ones she loved - the hopes and the dreams that they had for a bright, prosperous future. All the beautiful things that could happen, all the possibilities for joy and serenity and comfort. The warmth of the thoughts coursed through her, filling her with radiating emotion. She wanted that for them, with every fiber of her being she wanted that and she was prepared to do what was necessary to see they had the chance. “I’ve loved you. All of you.” With that said and with the hopes of the many singing through her soul, the Eclipse changed the game and exited the world in a symphony of silence and stars.

@we-the-faceless @the-handmaidens-collective @twilightrejects @masrin

[we-the-faceless]

Last Call for Final Battle Registrations!

{We will be cutting off registrations for the final Faceless event in ONE HOUR! This is your last call to get those character sheets in before we begin assigning groups!}

[altherei]

Final Faceless Event - OOC

Unfortunately it looks like the final Faceless event will be taking place a bit too late in the evening for me! (Not to mention Alth is neither a fighter nor a healer, so she wouldn’t be much use in an actual battle.)

However! If folks are okay with it, I’d like to say that she helps (as an NPC of sorts since I won’t be online) to get civilians to safety in more populated areas, probably around Silvermoon as that’s her current location. :D If anyone wants to say that they’re helping her then that’s fine with me!

@we-the-faceless, @the-shieldedmind

[altherei]

The Horns of War

She’d been in the Ghostlands when news reached her, and it took her a moment to piece it all together. A bomb. The Shielded Mind. Some said it was an earthquake but for such localized destruction, nobody truly believed it. Altherei pressed a hand to her chest and struggled for a breath, the news having pulled all the air from her lungs and left her wanting.

As fast as she could, she mounted her hawkstrider and spurred him to the city. He couldn’t run fast enough, and the astronomer’s mind was a swirling fog of concern. Not even a few days ago she’d managed to get in touch with Bel’navar and assure his own safety, but what of it now? What of Renik, who she’d still heard nothing from?

And what of the Doctor?

When she finally arrived in the city, the streets were abuzz. Grief, shock, worry, panic, and more emotions than she cared to recognize were displayed on the citizens. She hurried through the crowds as best she could, and when she saw that she wouldn’t be getting through to the Bazaar by its normal entrance, she tied her hawkstrider to a post outside the inn.

She hurried through, occasionally offering a gentle shove and plenty of apologies to those she had to move out of her way. When she finally caught her first glimpse of what had been the clinic, she almost wished she’d taken her time to get there.

It was destroyed. Teal eyes darted back and forth and though she wanted to get closer, to help those working, her legs didn’t dare move another step. She could smell the smoke and the disgusting odor of burnt flesh. She covered her mouth with her hands to keep herself from gagging as workers brought out body parts. She could ask herself who did this, but somehow.. somehow, she knew. It was obvious, wasn’t it?

This was the work of the Faceless. Or the Collective, or whatever they had decided to call themselves that day. A fire was set alight in Alth’s blood, and her own fear and panic melted away into a righteous fury. She had no skills with spell or sword. She had no way to heal.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t.. wouldn’t fight. She had asked Xanelen at her first trip to the clinic if he thought they would resort to violence. At the time, he had said no. Now, clear evidence was right before her very eyes.

The Faceless intended to make this a war... and Altherei vowed then to do all she could to bring them to their knees.

@we-the-faceless @the-handmaidens-collective, @the-shieldedmind, @xanelen

[meladasunstriker]

A Need for Action

Melada had been in the Walk of Elders at the smaller clinic with Feythril and Aelberyn when the bomb went off. The trio rushed to action, sprinting to the Shielded Mind in the Bazaar. The engineer had grabbed her carbine and cloaked herself, immediately finding higher ground on the west wall of the Bazaar. She was in a perfect spot to watch the immediate aftermath of the carnage as bodies were pulled out by soot covered figures, if one could really call them bodies. It was more like bits and pieces. 

Thankfully, the engineer didn’t need to focus on the horrendous gore. Her job was to make sure another attack wasn’t coming. She scanned the Bazaar through her scope and one figure stood out in particular as it stepped out of the shadows and into her line of sight. It was a Forsaken man she’d seen not even an hour and a half before the attack. She’d learned some very important details about him from Aelberyn; he was Marked, he was an engineer, and he was the jerk who put up the jammers that had been screwing with engineered communications. And here he was at the scene of the crime, sitting on a bench by the Bazaar fountain to watch the recovery and identification efforts. The redhead was no judge or jury but there was no other way that information could add up and it took all her willpower to not become an executioner.

She’d informed the members of the Resistance, of course. A woman with a bow, Centori, came to speak with him. Apparently he was just ‘there for coffee and noticed the building had been blown up.’ Kodo shit. When he’d been informed that there were casualties, he started to cry. It was sick and disturbing and it made Melada clench her jaw and grind her teeth, for there was no other way she could express herself at that exact moment.

Eventually, everything calmed down. The few Marked that had been there, including the Forsaken, had all left. And the Resistance began to clear the area, too. Melada left with Feythril, though she’d already started forming a plan of action in her head and already had two people willing to back her up on it.

War might have been declared a night ago but it started today. She’d been told that they were already losing the game of hearts and minds due to a successful propaganda campaign by the Marked and now, the numbers game was being lost as well now that seven had died tonight in the blink of an eye, including some of the bigger names within the group. But if Melada had her way and all went according to plan, the scales might begin tipping in favor of the Resistance. She even had a certain Forsaken target in mind, too..

It was a dangerous game she was about to play but the Resistance was already a part of it, they just hadn’t made a move yet. And in the game the Marked were playing, it didn’t seem like not making a move was a valid option anymore, if it ever was to begin with. At the very least, Melada knew she wouldn’t be bored anymore.

@the-shieldedmind @the-handmaidens-collective @we-the-faceless @chorusofcontention @feythril @centoristarstriker @bennich-darkfall