![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
⬣//A Mirage, Exposed - 11/12
Who: █████████
What: Deception, revelation.
When: 11/12
Where: Root Town Of Unknown Origin
Warnings: Death, violence, others to be added as needed.
Overnight, the Root Town without a name explodes into a cacophony of noise. There’s a rhythmic one-two-three of hammers, but looking for the source proves to be fruitless, as if something - someone? - is hiding the construction site from view. The noise lasts for hours, and so the sense of foreboding only seems to grow stronger and stronger. It’s the third week, so by now it might be natural to wonder.
Is this going to be where we meet yet another advancement of the Wave?
Eventually, the noise stops. The islands go quiet beyond the whistling wind that never stops. Minutes pass, hours pass, and then there’s a scream.
Finding the source of the scream isn’t all that difficult - at the end of a rickety bridge there’s a pale, crumpled shape on the ground. Gray hair, ivory robes, ghostly skin that’s even paler than usual - the only color is the bright red blood that covers his face and stains his robes.
Owen is dead.
A bloody trail can be followed across the bridge, to a large amphitheater that wasn’t there the day before. Rows of seating lead down to a raised stage covered by curved arches holding up a roof large enough to keep the stage dry and hide lights and the mechanisms for the curtain. A deep blue curtain hangs, closed and hiding the stage from view. An orchestra pit sits in front of the stage, seats empty.
Someone stands in front of the curtains, a scythe in hand. Their blue cloak and hair almost blend into the curtain, but the dull, yellow eyes are unmistakable.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How long has it been since you’ve seen Anaido…?
What: Deception, revelation.
When: 11/12
Where: Root Town Of Unknown Origin
Warnings: Death, violence, others to be added as needed.
Overnight, the Root Town without a name explodes into a cacophony of noise. There’s a rhythmic one-two-three of hammers, but looking for the source proves to be fruitless, as if something - someone? - is hiding the construction site from view. The noise lasts for hours, and so the sense of foreboding only seems to grow stronger and stronger. It’s the third week, so by now it might be natural to wonder.
Is this going to be where we meet yet another advancement of the Wave?
Eventually, the noise stops. The islands go quiet beyond the whistling wind that never stops. Minutes pass, hours pass, and then there’s a scream.
Finding the source of the scream isn’t all that difficult - at the end of a rickety bridge there’s a pale, crumpled shape on the ground. Gray hair, ivory robes, ghostly skin that’s even paler than usual - the only color is the bright red blood that covers his face and stains his robes.
Owen is dead.
A bloody trail can be followed across the bridge, to a large amphitheater that wasn’t there the day before. Rows of seating lead down to a raised stage covered by curved arches holding up a roof large enough to keep the stage dry and hide lights and the mechanisms for the curtain. A deep blue curtain hangs, closed and hiding the stage from view. An orchestra pit sits in front of the stage, seats empty.
Someone stands in front of the curtains, a scythe in hand. Their blue cloak and hair almost blend into the curtain, but the dull, yellow eyes are unmistakable.
It’s strange, isn’t it? How long has it been since you’ve seen Anaido…?
no subject
With both his hands free, he dismisses his staff and grips his wrist with his now other free hand. The core Zelkova gave him appears in his gripped hand, and with all of his might, he focuses directly on Innis.]
Data Drain!
[Energy is drawn in large amounts from Innis, dispersing around the battlefield. Data Drain Type H: Status is activated! All status effects are cleansed from allies.]