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asgardchrysalis2020-01-17 06:46 pm
asgardmods) wrote in asgardchrysalis2020-01-17 06:46 pm
Entry tags:
- !event log,
- borderlands - rhys strongfork,
- downton abbey - mary crawley,
- good omens - anthony j. crowley,
- good omens - aziraphale,
- hakuouki - chizuru yukimura,
- homestuck - terezi pyrope,
- kingdom hearts - sora,
- marvel cinematic - peter quill,
- outlander - lord john grey,
- star trek - james t. kirk,
- tolkien - turgon
EVENT LOG: (UN)SAFETY MEASURES
Who: ANYONE leaving Asgard to build an outpost
What: the (Un)Safety Measures event
When: January 14 - 22
Where: three days north of Asgard's kingdom
Warnings: claustrophobia
On January 14, the gods summon everyone to the castle ground to announce that Asgard is moving out to face the newest threat on the horizon. what seems like the whole of Asgard prepares and departs the kingdom. From the youngest to the oldest of the able and willing, all hands are needed as this mission serves two highly critical purposes: to defeat the current threat and to build outposts that can be used as midway safe houses on missions like these.
Similar to the last time Asgard embarked on such a journey, a long train of wagons guided by the eight-legged horses and several of the gods passes through the thicc barrier of the forest into what appears to be a blinding light for any that remain in the city. As the caravan breaks through the treeline, that brightness barely fades as a blistering sun gleams off of what appears to be a solid landscape of pure ice. An odd chill travels from the top of your head to your toes as Honir calls out "Hold onto your limbs!" in a strangely cheerful warning to match the unusual warmth that envelops you afterwards.
Over the course of the next three days, the caravan travels northward through the strange landscape of Yggdrasil in winter. It seems like ice and snow rise and fall at whim, clear skies turning into a swarming blizzard from one stretch of land to another. It's like it can't quite decide what type of winter it would like to be, and the caravan is left to navigate and make camp through this fitful weather. On January 16, the caravan halts as the gods declare this to be the safest point between the kingdom and where the Qliphoth is growing. Construction of the outpost will begin here in the morning, as those moving on to destroy the wretched tree prepare to confront the demons of another world.
On the morning of January 17, everyone sets upon their separate tasks as those prepared for combat continue onward to travel. All of the wagons and most of the horses are left behind at the budding settlement - the terrain ahead is far too treacherous to risk losing them along the way. But all thoughts of demons and infernal trees seem distant compared to the pressing immediacy of the task at hand.
The gods weren’t wrong: This is likely the safest point between Asgard and whatever mayhem is occurring farther north. Tucked safely out of the elements in shallow valley between two small mountains, the outpost benefits strongly from the sun peeking out over the ridge as it balms the chilly sting of the wind with a diffuse sort of warmth. It’s a warmth that Wanderers will need as they set to work constructing a fallback point for the unimaginable things that those who continued might endure. There’s a job for everyone, big or small, from building temporary housing to assembling defenses to taking stock of all the medical supplies they’ve brought along for the trip.
Honir, meanwhile, has chosen to stay and protect the outpost. Though he doesn’t seem to actively dwell on it, those who knew him before the Battle of Wights can likely tell that he was humbled considerably by his experience. It more than suits the needs of the moment, as he and any willing volunteers scout the immediate area outside of the mountainous inlet to make sure that the outpost is safe.
Alas, even Honir doesn’t think to account for threats from below.
( ! ) content warnings: claustrophobia
On the morning of January 18, your characters will wake up to discover that some of you are missing. Surely they were there when you went to sleep, but an odd number of Wanderers and native Asgardians alike seem to have vanished in the night. Searching the encampment and the surrounding area turns up nothing of use, awkwardly delaying construction between the need to finish this project within a few days and the absence of those that came to build it. A scant few more disappear suddenly throughout the day without anyone seeing or hearing anything more than a vague crunching sound and then silence.
As it turns out, answers come with the still of the night: Those who find themselves awake near the edges of camp hear a faint but unmistakable shouting, coming from beneath their very feet. Characters that have disappeared up to this point are buried underground beneath a thick layer of solid earth and stone. More people begin disappearing, this time in plain sight as stone shifts and pulls them into the dirt. Screams fill the campground as people try to save their friends or find the source of the chaos… Not to mention the shouts of alarm as those who try to dig too violently find the ground itself throwing things back at them, betraying this as the work of some sort of subterraneal creature.
But even as that chaos erupts around them, most of the Wanderers seem to vie for a peaceful resolution (based on the comments on January’s event post), and in fact, some go so far as to attempt to calm those reacting violently.
At first, it doesn’t seem to matter.
But then, the earth starts to shift. Those who have yet to be unearthed seem to be spat back out onto the surface, gently and with what could almost be considered deference. And then comes a gnomelike figure, about the size of a football with stone-brown skin and hair down to his feet, crawling up from a hole that didn’t seem to exist before he had need of it.
“I believe an apology is in order,” he says, twisting at a corner of his beard. “It has been quite an age since the Steinnbregðr have seen humans in these parts, and with such magics.”
“We just wanted to take a look atcha,” comes a younger voice not far behind him. It’s now that you see a number of other figures peering up out a dozen more inexplicable holes in the earth, though these new arrivals keep themselves hidden from the nose up. The girl who spoke had popped up a bit in her excitement, but she too ducks back into her hole under scrutiny, tacking on a - “Gorbit says you brought gods.”
The others all murmur with quiet agreement, some nodding, others looking nervous. They, too, just wanted to look at these humans. To learn.
“We made you fear for your lives and your kin, yet none of you harmed us,” the first gnome continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. He looks from Wanderer to Wanderer, from face to face, and even in his generous age his eyes glow with an almost childlike intrigue. “Do you think it possible that we might... try again? From the start, with quite a bit less borrowing of your people.”
The Steinnbregðr people have extended an olive branch. If rejected, they’ll disappear back into their holes, nary to be seen again. If accepted, they’ll answer Wanderers’ questions, share their knowledge of local resources, and assist in assembling the outpost to the best of their ability… All the while taking every opportunity to observe the Wanderers with wide inquisitive eyes, or even tug at clothing to ask a burning question about the Wanderers, the gods, Asgard, or humans as a general concept.
(Though we won’t be outright NPCing the Steinnbregðr, there will be a top-level in which we’ll gladly summarize or handwave interactions with your characters, answering questions and perhaps even forming a budding CR.)
With the Qliphoth destroyed and the outpost established as best it can be, the caravan makes its way back to Asgard on January 20. While the load is a bit lighter for the supplies it took to build and battle their way back home, some carry new burdens and memories of the strange happenings that took place here. The magic the gods warned of has shown its powerful capacity to overwrite the landscape of Yggdrasil, and new creatures in the world are becoming increasingly aware of the Wanderers' presence.
All along the three day journey back to the kingdom, the gods and the natives can't help but discuss and speculate what this means for the future. A nervous energy travels back to the city with them in spite of their victories, the vast and mercurial landscape of Yggdrasil providing a frigid reminder of their isolation at the heart of it. Asgard may come to contend with the fact that they are safer within their kingdom and the veil of obscurity - and the fact that the veil has been lifted, leaving an open window for them to see out into the dangers of the world, and for the world to look back at them.
[ OOC NOTES: This is the event log for the (Un)Safety Measures event! Your characters are in the process of building an outpost to serve as safe housing for ventures beyond the kingdom when a clan of rock gnomes begins "stealing" characters underground for observation. Because the majority of you elected to proceed with caution instead of aggression, you were able to entreat with the gnomes to understand their presence and motivations, and enough of you actively sought to make peace with them that they have become tentative allies to Asgard for the time being. If you want to discuss interactions or ask questions about the gnomes, you can do so in this thread below. If you have any other questions or concerns, please feel free to hit us up on the mod contact page! Enjoy! ]
What: the (Un)Safety Measures event
When: January 14 - 22
Where: three days north of Asgard's kingdom
Warnings: claustrophobia
❧ january 14-16: departure.
On January 14, the gods summon everyone to the castle ground to announce that Asgard is moving out to face the newest threat on the horizon. what seems like the whole of Asgard prepares and departs the kingdom. From the youngest to the oldest of the able and willing, all hands are needed as this mission serves two highly critical purposes: to defeat the current threat and to build outposts that can be used as midway safe houses on missions like these.
Similar to the last time Asgard embarked on such a journey, a long train of wagons guided by the eight-legged horses and several of the gods passes through the thicc barrier of the forest into what appears to be a blinding light for any that remain in the city. As the caravan breaks through the treeline, that brightness barely fades as a blistering sun gleams off of what appears to be a solid landscape of pure ice. An odd chill travels from the top of your head to your toes as Honir calls out "Hold onto your limbs!" in a strangely cheerful warning to match the unusual warmth that envelops you afterwards.
Over the course of the next three days, the caravan travels northward through the strange landscape of Yggdrasil in winter. It seems like ice and snow rise and fall at whim, clear skies turning into a swarming blizzard from one stretch of land to another. It's like it can't quite decide what type of winter it would like to be, and the caravan is left to navigate and make camp through this fitful weather. On January 16, the caravan halts as the gods declare this to be the safest point between the kingdom and where the Qliphoth is growing. Construction of the outpost will begin here in the morning, as those moving on to destroy the wretched tree prepare to confront the demons of another world.
❧ january 17-18: setting up camp.
On the morning of January 17, everyone sets upon their separate tasks as those prepared for combat continue onward to travel. All of the wagons and most of the horses are left behind at the budding settlement - the terrain ahead is far too treacherous to risk losing them along the way. But all thoughts of demons and infernal trees seem distant compared to the pressing immediacy of the task at hand.
The gods weren’t wrong: This is likely the safest point between Asgard and whatever mayhem is occurring farther north. Tucked safely out of the elements in shallow valley between two small mountains, the outpost benefits strongly from the sun peeking out over the ridge as it balms the chilly sting of the wind with a diffuse sort of warmth. It’s a warmth that Wanderers will need as they set to work constructing a fallback point for the unimaginable things that those who continued might endure. There’s a job for everyone, big or small, from building temporary housing to assembling defenses to taking stock of all the medical supplies they’ve brought along for the trip.
Honir, meanwhile, has chosen to stay and protect the outpost. Though he doesn’t seem to actively dwell on it, those who knew him before the Battle of Wights can likely tell that he was humbled considerably by his experience. It more than suits the needs of the moment, as he and any willing volunteers scout the immediate area outside of the mountainous inlet to make sure that the outpost is safe.
Alas, even Honir doesn’t think to account for threats from below.
❧ january 19: hidden intentions.
( ! ) content warnings: claustrophobia
On the morning of January 18, your characters will wake up to discover that some of you are missing. Surely they were there when you went to sleep, but an odd number of Wanderers and native Asgardians alike seem to have vanished in the night. Searching the encampment and the surrounding area turns up nothing of use, awkwardly delaying construction between the need to finish this project within a few days and the absence of those that came to build it. A scant few more disappear suddenly throughout the day without anyone seeing or hearing anything more than a vague crunching sound and then silence.
As it turns out, answers come with the still of the night: Those who find themselves awake near the edges of camp hear a faint but unmistakable shouting, coming from beneath their very feet. Characters that have disappeared up to this point are buried underground beneath a thick layer of solid earth and stone. More people begin disappearing, this time in plain sight as stone shifts and pulls them into the dirt. Screams fill the campground as people try to save their friends or find the source of the chaos… Not to mention the shouts of alarm as those who try to dig too violently find the ground itself throwing things back at them, betraying this as the work of some sort of subterraneal creature.
But even as that chaos erupts around them, most of the Wanderers seem to vie for a peaceful resolution (based on the comments on January’s event post), and in fact, some go so far as to attempt to calm those reacting violently.
At first, it doesn’t seem to matter.
But then, the earth starts to shift. Those who have yet to be unearthed seem to be spat back out onto the surface, gently and with what could almost be considered deference. And then comes a gnomelike figure, about the size of a football with stone-brown skin and hair down to his feet, crawling up from a hole that didn’t seem to exist before he had need of it.
“I believe an apology is in order,” he says, twisting at a corner of his beard. “It has been quite an age since the Steinnbregðr have seen humans in these parts, and with such magics.”
“We just wanted to take a look atcha,” comes a younger voice not far behind him. It’s now that you see a number of other figures peering up out a dozen more inexplicable holes in the earth, though these new arrivals keep themselves hidden from the nose up. The girl who spoke had popped up a bit in her excitement, but she too ducks back into her hole under scrutiny, tacking on a - “Gorbit says you brought gods.”
The others all murmur with quiet agreement, some nodding, others looking nervous. They, too, just wanted to look at these humans. To learn.
“We made you fear for your lives and your kin, yet none of you harmed us,” the first gnome continues as if he hadn’t been interrupted. He looks from Wanderer to Wanderer, from face to face, and even in his generous age his eyes glow with an almost childlike intrigue. “Do you think it possible that we might... try again? From the start, with quite a bit less borrowing of your people.”
The Steinnbregðr people have extended an olive branch. If rejected, they’ll disappear back into their holes, nary to be seen again. If accepted, they’ll answer Wanderers’ questions, share their knowledge of local resources, and assist in assembling the outpost to the best of their ability… All the while taking every opportunity to observe the Wanderers with wide inquisitive eyes, or even tug at clothing to ask a burning question about the Wanderers, the gods, Asgard, or humans as a general concept.
(Though we won’t be outright NPCing the Steinnbregðr, there will be a top-level in which we’ll gladly summarize or handwave interactions with your characters, answering questions and perhaps even forming a budding CR.)
❧ january 20-22: return.
With the Qliphoth destroyed and the outpost established as best it can be, the caravan makes its way back to Asgard on January 20. While the load is a bit lighter for the supplies it took to build and battle their way back home, some carry new burdens and memories of the strange happenings that took place here. The magic the gods warned of has shown its powerful capacity to overwrite the landscape of Yggdrasil, and new creatures in the world are becoming increasingly aware of the Wanderers' presence.
All along the three day journey back to the kingdom, the gods and the natives can't help but discuss and speculate what this means for the future. A nervous energy travels back to the city with them in spite of their victories, the vast and mercurial landscape of Yggdrasil providing a frigid reminder of their isolation at the heart of it. Asgard may come to contend with the fact that they are safer within their kingdom and the veil of obscurity - and the fact that the veil has been lifted, leaving an open window for them to see out into the dangers of the world, and for the world to look back at them.
[ OOC NOTES: This is the event log for the (Un)Safety Measures event! Your characters are in the process of building an outpost to serve as safe housing for ventures beyond the kingdom when a clan of rock gnomes begins "stealing" characters underground for observation. Because the majority of you elected to proceed with caution instead of aggression, you were able to entreat with the gnomes to understand their presence and motivations, and enough of you actively sought to make peace with them that they have become tentative allies to Asgard for the time being. If you want to discuss interactions or ask questions about the gnomes, you can do so in this thread below. If you have any other questions or concerns, please feel free to hit us up on the mod contact page! Enjoy! ]
no subject
John is beginning to feel rather like he is intruding in this private moment between them, despite the fact that he did play some part in extricating him in the first.
Angel. There it is again. John is doing his best not to watch them directly, to give them a moment's space, but they are just there in front of him and short of actually leaving the scene...
Speaking of which, they should probably do so. He's got no idea what it was that had sucked the other man underground but the thought of winding up there himself makes him rather queasy. Certainly no one would tear him out with the same voracity he had just witnessed Mr Crowley do for -- is that Mr Fell? It's hard to tell from this angle, covered in dirt and everything, but he rather thinks that it is.
"Gentlemen," John says softly, hoping he will be forgiven for his interruption as he does so, "perhaps we might move back to the tents where the ground is less likely to spit back or swallow us whole?"
no subject
He doesn't like that.
His arms fix around Aziraphale, holding him tight into his chest as he takes a moment to regroup. They're both entirely filthy, and he's pretty sure he's radiating a wild mix of panic and relief to match the angel. What a mess. What an absolute mess.
Taking a last few seconds to scan the area Crowley eyes John a long moment before nodding, glancing down at Aziraphale and wiping one of his hands off against his shirt before trying to rub a patch of dirt away from the angel's cheek.
"Why don't we go have a little sit down, yeah?" he prompts, "We'll get you something to eat, a drink, just have a little sit down. Somewhere nice and warm."
Or well, a tent at least.
no subject
His fingers are clamped a little too tight around Crowley's upper arm, clinging to him in a way that's most unbecoming and a little embarrassing, but it made him feel better. Secure, solid.
"I—" he begins, but he doesn't actually know what he wants to say. He has so many questions, packed tight and heavy in his chest. He's just not sure if he has the heart to entertain any conversation about it yet.
He swallows and glances at Crowley's shoulder.
"Yes, al-alright. Thank you."
no subject
He does not have to know either Mr Crowley or Mr Fell very well to know that the pair of them are close to one another. Leading the pair of them towards their tent, he leaves Crowley to guide him towards a seat. Hoping they will forgive him for making himself at home as he offers, "Can I get you gentleman anything?"
Glancing between the pair of them, ignoring the throbbing of his arm as he continues on to suggest, "I could put on some tea, perhaps?"
It may seem inane, but he is English and when in doubt...
no subject
"Yeah, tea," he says softly, looking over at John and then studying Aziraphale again as he carefully washes dirt from him. "He'll make us some nice tea, angel. How's that? Then maybe you can have a little rest. Just a little one, and I'll be here. Maybe we can read, yeah? How's that. Just read. Maybe I'll even read to you for a change."
no subject
He cracks a little as Crowley immediately starts wiping off some of the dirt and a very measure of blood from cracked skin he'd won himself earlier. He catches one of Crowley's hands in his, holding on tight and desperate as if the contact might comfort at least one of them. At least somewhat. They're here now. Above ground and certainly a little safer.
"I assure you, I'm alright," he tells him, voice low and expression openly affectionate. Everything that Crowley is offering is something that he'd truly appreciate receiving and he hopes to try and collect on some of it later in the evening. When things are better, calmer, and he doesn't feel like his heart is going to beat right out of his chest. "I'm alright," he repeats, still as much of a lie as the first time he said it.
He turns his gaze to Lord John Grey, who had obviously injured his arm at some point.
"I am not sure if the same could be said for our friend here."
no subject
Fussing with the water and the kettle, it gives the pair of them as much privacy as he can. Watching out of the corner of his eye as Crowley (very tenderly, or so he notes) washes the dirt from the other man's face. Gentling his nerves as he works.
He's so busy trying not to pay attention to the pair of them that he almost doesn't catch Mr Fell's reference to himself. Glancing up from his mindless fussing and flashing the pair of them a pleasant smile.
"Oh," he says, unconsciously raising a hand to the bandaged arm. "There's no need to concern yourself with me. I've -- had worse." Which is probably not all that comforting, in the grand scheme of things.
no subject
The angel does like to fuss over people, however. Most likely it'll help him feel better, too, more in control if he can focus on someone else.
Alright, then.
He moves to sit beside Aziraphale sideways so he can watch Lord John, still gently trying to clean dirt from one of the angel's battered hands.
"Come here," he coaxes, "let's see your arm, then."
If playing doctor will make Aziraphale happy, then he'll enable it for him.
no subject
It was starting to feel like apologies were in order. For the whole fiasco of the day and for how awkward this moment must surely be. He glances over at Crowley, thumb rubbing over the edge of his hand appreciatively. Thank you.
Then he turns his gaze back to the person who was continuing to graciously help them.
"No, I believe he's right. Will you let me see your arm?" he asks, motioning for Lord John Grey to come towards him with his free hand.
no subject
"Really, though," John protests. "I doubt there is any reason to fuss. I had it bandaged earlier."
Before he spent the past while stressing the wound helping to dig the other man out of the ground. No, he doesn't suppose that that had helped it much. The stinging ache from beneath the bandage is inclined to agree with him.
"Certainly you have other matters to attend to?" he hazards, glancing between the pair of them, and raising an eyebrow at Crowley himself, whose focus John notes is still mostly on Mr Fell. He supposes that he would know best how to handle the situation, however.
no subject
So really, there's no need to resist. It'll be over nice and easy if he just lets it happen. He lofts an challenging eyebrow back at Lord John in turn, as if daring him to suggest otherwise. Go on. Just show him already. Bandage or not, there's something wrong with it so may as well stop pretending and let Aziraphale do his good work.
no subject
"At the moment, I believe the most pressing concern would be your injury. I wouldn't feel right sending you away in such a condition," he tells him. There weren't any other matters for him to attend to, not at the moment and not any that he would care to offer any priority to. He already had a very exact and fully formed checklist in his head for what he'd like to do with the remainder of this day.
Of course, the first item on the list was to offer Lord John something in return for his trouble. They had only just recently just met and he was already in his debt. Although, he hadn't realised that he knew Crowley as well. He supposed that wasn't all that surprising, but it did make him a little curious.
"How long have the two of you known each other?" He asks, hoping to help some of the tension in the air.
no subject
Reaching for the cuff of his shirt, he glances aside at Crowley before flashing the other man a somewhat sheepish smile. Yes, he supposes they are familiar enough with each other for it to be obvious enough that they hadn't just met now. Which is to say, not overly familiar, but certainly familiar enough.
"I believe that we met on the same evening that I met you, sir," he says, as he rolls up his sleeve to expose a somewhat haphazardly applied bandage wrapped around his forearm. "At the palace ball."
no subject
"Right, the ball," he says absently, studying the bandage. "You got that from one of those things, yeah?"
The things that the strange folk here, his weird roommate among them, claim are demons that come from a tree. Would that make the wound demonic, he wonders? What sort of weapon did the demon use? Claws? Blade? Is it even worth considering, when everything else about the situation is so unfamiliar to him? Is the comparison worth while, or just going to confuse matters more?