The Game - Acting it out [Team Dawn & Dusk]

[Stitch]

Stitch stood quietly, his hand still outreached as Alistair greeted him with but a nod. Even as Alistair turned and hurried outside, following his other team-mates, Stitch still stood there. It was a slightly odd scene, to watch the blind man act out the part of a completely still statue. His Aura shifted in various ways, a multitude of emotions running through it. No one here could see it, but he could. What was he thinking? Why had he wanted Alistair to shake his hand so much? He already knew the answer, but he didn't want to admit it to himself.

Clench fingers when handshake connects. Twist, push, lock arm in place. Strike at the locked point of elbow. Break. Opponent will be in pain, helpless, unable to fight back. Strike for neck.

One opponent left.

Stitch let out a shaky breath, letting his extended palm fall to his side. He would never do such a thing. How could he even dream of doing such a thing? The point wasn't even to take out the other team, it was just to get to the final door. Alistair was his friend! A good man he had met only a few weeks ago, a kind man who had brought toys for the children! If he knew the circumstances behind Stitch's participation, he too would likely rally to Stitch's cause! Stitch liked to think he would, at least. He knew the man liked the children, and he knew the man was a good, kind, respectable human being. Would he believe that someone was out to kill the children, though? Or would he just look upon it as a clever lie that was woven to help Stitch and his team win the Game? Mentally, without turning, Stitch cast an eye upon Kamalia. He already didn't trust the Lady Konti. He likely did not trust Sasin, or Gromhir. Did he trust Stitch, since Stitch was an ally of those who could not be trusted?

Confused, stricken, and burdened with an aching heart, Stitch turned to the Lady Kamalia. Smiling warmly, once again a simple Orphanage owner with a kind heart, he responded to her confusion. "You may go to him, or we may take part in the next Act of the play, milady. Milord asked this one to protect you. This one will go where you lead, milady." Smiling at her, he gave a small nod, as if to confirm his words. Lifting a hand, he wiped the sweat off of his brow, suddenly noticing how hot it was in here. Was that just him, or was it actually the temperature? Lord Nyahna came running to Stitch, right as Lady Kamalia took gleeful note of what was perhaps a mistake by the opposing team. "What is it, milord Nyahna? This one would be happy to hear of any such ideas you may have." Smiling at the Dhani, Stitch aided Kamalia in gathering the masks, walking about and picking up any he could find. Where had some of the others gone? A bit confused, Stitch walked about, avoiding the stage, but trying to find where the missing players had last been standing. He was able to locate Devandre's mask, the soft glow of the magical item easy to locate. Picking it up with his free hand, Stitch stared upon it a short second before observing the means of Devandre's exit. A black door.

Stitch mentally gazed at it, enraptured for a short moment. Clearing his throat, he turned, heading toward the Lady Kamalia, keeping Nyahna in hearing range. "Milady, here is a mask. This one thinks it is the one the silly man was wearing. He was acting like a clown...? A jester, perhaps?" The mask was smiling, and was a bright green. Stitch now held it, as well as the mask of the haunting ghost.

[Tarot]

The masked man chuckled politely at Gromhir's new barrage of questions. "Frankly," he spoke, "I am not expecting either team to win today. See, half the participants have already left the Game and that was just during the first Act alone. But do allow me to digress, Kelvic. This tragedy was originally in five Acts. The author was a female playwright, Luisia Van Stark. History has forgotten her name, because the Valterrian erased her star when it was just beginning to shine. The play you have been butchering today was called 'Ashak's Wedding', a not-too-subtle criticism of the state marriage between Galifer Odalah and Queen Kova. Everyone dies in the end. The author was from Suvan, obviously - but, ironically enough, the play gained a lot of notoriety around the continent, in both countries." The man had been showing Gromhir his back up until now, but he turned as he spoke the next words. "But back to us. To answer your questions…" He stopped all of a sudden, as if remembering something important. "Oh, I am so sorry, Gromhir. There is a urgent matter I need to attend to. I shall just leave you with a fragment of the truth. Tell your companions that they can wrap things up in as little as one Act if they play their cards right." He extended a gloved hand in the Kelvic's direction, and flashes of vision shone through his eyes and rang in his ears. A dark-haired woman stood in a large open space under a glowing red sky, holding a strange, curvy black sword that matched the color of her clothes. She seemed frozen in a battle stance, and her countenance was cold and royal, but surprise marred her expression. "What… what have you done to these people?" she exclaimed. In front of her were hundreds of identical masked men. One of them took his mask off, though Gromhir could not see his face. "Your age of absolutes is coming to an end. Like the new age, I am everyone and no-one." "Gug-darak," the woman growled uncharacteristically. "I thought I'd dealt with that monstrosity a long time ago." "And I've remade it from scratch!" The masked man laughed, "But milady, nowadays we call it 'Unity'. Your age is beginning to show." When Gromhir reopened his eyes, he was standing in the backstage. *** There wasn't much going on in the courtyards. The shops had the items one would normally expect of them, and perhaps their use would now be more evident, as the actors may want adequate props to take to the stage. The tanner "sold" leather armor of all sizes and shapes as well as clothes, saddles and other utility items. The food stall had plenty of meat cuts as well as fruits and vegetables on display. They all seemed fresh, then again many things seemed one way or another in this place, and they weren't necessarily what they seemed. The bakery similarly had plenty of bread and sweets to keep the mouths watered and occupied for a while. As for the chapel, it was a mirror copy of the one Rhylen had visited before the start of the Game. It did not seem to be dedicated to any one god as much to the entirety of the pantheon, a bit like the temple to all gods in Syliras but on a much smaller scale. When Alistair entered the chapel, the Sinner mark upon his palm began to bleed. It was not clear whether the blood was deGrey's own or something else entirely, but the droplets did form a crimson message on the chapel's floor. "He attempted to change his stars through a game. Even lies exist for truth." Three bells chimed from the inside of the castle, recalling the actors inside for the second Act of the play, which would begin shortly. Unfortunately, no more masks had been found for the time being. Would the second Act play out like the first, or would something change? The Game had hardly ever given them enough time to get bored so far.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden, while passing over the various shops, first grabbed a Composite Bow and quiver of arrows. He had hoped he hadn’t needed to use them, but there were many things happening within this game that lead him to believe he just might. He soon slid down to the tanner’s next, overlooking the wares hanging in there, Jaeden slowly looked back as he saw Alistair heading for the chapel. A slow rub of his chin was given as he contemplated for a moment. He then reached out, snagging some leather armor and a long blue robe from the shelves, hanging them over his arm, leaving coin for each item if it was necessary.

He eventually found himself in the bakery not soon after, inspecting the breads and sweets inside. His rune sack was soon lifted and set along a counter before stuffing some bread into it mainly. Very few sweets were taken in the end, and likely would only be eaten if he needed a boost in energy levels, if only for a short while. He didn’t exactly notice time passing as they progressed through the game so far, but chances were that many would likely be feeling the urge to rest somewhere down the line. Tightening the rune sack up again, Jaeden attached it to his pack once again and began making his way over towards the chapel to once again meet with Alistair.

The heels of his boots sent an echoing click through the chapel as he stopped near Alistair, seeing the blood drip from his hand and slowly form a message. “Crypitc,” Jaeden said as he looked over the message. “And sort of weird that it’s coming from your sinner mark. Any speculations as to the meaning behind it?”

Eventually Jaeden pushed the armor and robes into Alistair’s arms. “Put the leather armor on underneath the robe, or your own clothing if you prefer.” Jaeden suggested as his hands fell to his waist. “Hopefully you won’t need the protection, but with the crowd as well as the most recent threats from that Konti, best to have something covering your skin with a little more durability than just cloth.”

Jaeden’s gaze slowly lifted as the bells began to ring, a slow exhale escaped his lips as he dropped his head for a moment. “Well, I suppose that’s our cue.” Jaeden said as he began moving towards the exit of the chapel.

[Nyahna Sasin]

Unprepared for the konti's cold tone, he took a step back, surprised at how paranoid and angry she sounded. He could only stare after her as she began to gather masks. Was this really the same person who had joked about how silly and mismatched their team was? Speaking of which....

"It looks like Team Dusk isn't the only one short a few members. Have either of you seen Demetri or Rhylen?"

Walking over to Stitch, he glanced at the mask in the blind mans hand. "It appears that each of us will have to play multiple roles." He mused, glancing from the green mask to the brown one, a vague idea forming in his mind. "Stitch, I may require assistance for the next scene I have in mind. It appears that this is something of a political play. Perhaps I've been spending too much time with Eypharians, but there's almost always someone trying to mess up a marriage for personal reasons. Something along the lines of two unimportant characters going "This marriage will not be!". What do you think?"

[Gromhir]

It all happened so fast that Gromhir has little time to process everything. One moment he was speaking with the Mysterious Figure, then he saw some vision and now he was stood backstage, completely disorientated by the whole affair. The Kelvic stumbled slightly, feeling the passage of Djed in the air and around his body. He gave a low growl then turned his eyes towards his companions and then the audience. “Everyone and no-one,” he muttered to himself as he looked to the masked faces. He turned his gaze upwards towards the platform. Could it really be? Was it some form of magic? If so, what were these creatures? Kamalia would know. He turned his gaze towards his Lady and stumbled over towards her. The sensations made his legs protest but he pushed on regardless. Without a word, he took her small hand in his and focused on what he could remember from his vision. He knew she had seen things from his past before, especially those that involved magic. Hopefully she would see what he had seen and know some more. He watched her expectantly, waiting to hear what she had to say.

((OOC: Sorry been mega busy recently.))

[Alistair deGrey]

The crimson fluid trickled down Alistair's hand, dripping from his fingers to form the message on the floor. His eyes scanned the words, etching them into his consciousness as Jaeden walked into the church. As the warrior asked him to speculate on the word's meaning, his mind balked; "I do not engage in conjecture, I make observations and search for connections where reality would have them. But rest assured, as my closest ally you will be the first I inform of anything." His voice was low, calm and monotonous as he spoke. Alistair was entirely focused on the phrase painted on the stone, mind clicking and whirring as it searched for relevance to other events.

His reverie snapped as Jaeden pushed the equipment into his hand, and he looked down at the armor and robe blankly for a moment. Though Alistair had never so much as contemplated donning such a raiment, he immediately saw what benefits could be had. "Right, yes." He tossed the robe on the ground, and began examining the armor. It didn't look heavy, or overly restricting, and the straps and buckles appeared straight forward enough. Awkwardly, he slipped the leather cuirass and other trappings onto his body, shrugging and squirming to bring himself some comfort. Was it supposed to go over his tunic? Questions plagued him as he tugged at the armor, but he kept his silence as at this point Jaeden had left for the keep once more. Slipping the robe on over his armor, he trotted off after his only apparent ally in this game; it was time for the second act.

[Kamalia Timandre]

In this short-lived sanctuary offered by the stage curtains, shadows seemed to lengthen all over the members of the Team Dusk. The konti wizard gingerly held the tragedy mask of Princess Iolanda, and then smiled a conspiratorial grin at Stitch when he retrieved the comedy mask of Queen Eugenia’s Jester. She stared at the dhani assassin with bloodgem eyes when he brought up the fact that some of their teammates had vanished into the darkness as well. The konti herself did not seem bothered at the slightest, only lifting a corner of her lips in a crooked smile. “That only means that they have neither the power nor fortitude to win this game,” Kamalia said softly, her voice siren yet ice-cold, “and that only means that the Game Master is still pleased with our performance. And what of Dawn, did they not lose more than we did?”

Hurry up and win the game, so I’ll be one step closer to taking over you.

A dark, enigmatic smile touched the konti’s lips and her eyes glinted malevolently, “That is because they’re weak. Few of those fools can match our power and our willingness to win. Survival has meaning. Resolve has meaning. Power has meaning, and we have them; they don’t. Without power, I would not be here today, as difficult as it might have been to acquire it.” Stitch knew that these words not something his konti friend would say, and he would perceive slight changes in her aura. Was it magical addiction affecting his friend’s words? Or was it the truth from Kamalia’s perspective? He could not exactly point out.

Deep down, you know it’s what you want.

“Since the story seems to be a loose portrayal of the wedding between Kova and Galifer, then it is more than likely that this is a tragedy where everyone dies in the end,” Kamalia said, before gently taking off her sky blue mask, and slipping Iolanda’s white porcelain mask into her face. Three bells suddenly chimed and reverberated through the entire castle, as if it were some portent of doom.

Kamalia’s eyes widened when Gromhir emerged from the shadows, and quickly took her small hands in his own. The konti instantly knew what her bondmate was trying to do. She closed her eyes, purging her mind of her own thoughts and focusing only on the thoughts and images her bondmate was trying to transmit through the bond. Ivaski were canines that developed telepathic powers, which they possibly acquired as a result of their exposure to the Silver Lake in the Konti Isle. At the same time, a maternal quietude enfolded her, and her soul fell up suddenly from the material world into the Chavena. Immediately, Kamalia sought Gromhir’s solidified chavi, and saw what had transpired—his conversation with the masked person in the corkscrew stairs, the small square room with five hooks protruding in a pentagonal fashion, and Gromhir’s own vision.

Kamalia’s oracular sensitivities were in full force as Gromhir planted the vision in her mind. There she saw a dark-haired woman holding a strange, curvy black sword facing hundreds of people wearing identical masks. One word reverberated in her mind with an impossible clarity: Unity.

Overwhelmed by the vision, Kamalia shut off her Sight with every ounce of her willpower and arcane strength. She opened her eyes and stared blankly at Gromhir’s face. “Unity,” she quietly repeated, wearing a disbelieving expression. Kamalia had read that Unity was a form of magic, a Lost Discipline, which gave magi the ability to weave souls into one. How incredulous and how delightful!

If such magic, if such power truly existed…

It’s what you want. It’s all you ever wanted.

“Those… aberrations,” Kamalia said weakly, still shaken by her revelation, “they are undoubtedly fashioned from long-forgotten magicks. There is ancient sorcery at work here. We need to get through the second Act alive, and we need five masks with us.”

[Stitch]

While Kamalia was near gleeful that over half the players had vanished, Stitch had stepped away, and was quietly scouring the darkness for them. He was only a few feet from Kamalia, but he faced the darkness of the backstage, and let his Auristic eyes fully open. Veins throbbed in his forehead, powerfully pushing against the skin, almost threatening to burst out. Stitch could feel the pain, but it was like a distant dream to him, a background to a much sweeter taste. He was a bit surprised, for the Djed he was weaving actually had a bit of a sweet bite to it. The magics flowed through his veins like molten sugar, hot and stinging, yet so deliciously flavoured. It was almost a distraction, which was nothing he had experienced before. For a brief moment, he simply wanted to pour more and more Djed to his Auristics, just so he could see that much more. A small bit of clarity still remained, however, and Stitch gripped onto that clarity. His two team-mates had spoken of the others disappearing, and they almost seemed happy. The Lady Kamalia seemed more happy than the Lord Sasin, and her now-overbearing Aura was almost more of a distraction than the stinging sweetness running through his veins. He pushed it all to the back of his mind though, forcing everything away but the true concern. Where had the others gone? Were they in trouble, or had they truly just vanished? Perhaps they had escaped through the black door, without telling anyone.

He scanned the backstage, much more throughly than he had glanced about last time. No matter where he looked, the bright magic of the entire place assaulted his sight, and there was not a missing person to be found. Chewing on his lower lip, Stitch pondered if he should be concerned for them or not. There were no dead bodies, and he was incredibly thankful for that. He would just have to keep a better watch from now on. He didn't want a single other person here to vanish from his sight. Not even Lord Alistair, or the gentleman who had been with him.

"This one is curious about something." He spoke to both Kamalia and Sasin, somewhat responding to both of their phrases. "Couldn't we collaborate with the other team, and perhaps simply move on? Lord Gromhir seems to have reached the next area successfully, and perhaps if we follow, we can provide some assistance?" He knew the reaction to his suggestion would likely not be favorable, but he felt he had to try anyway. At this point, he just wanted to work together, instead of butting heads. The Lady Kamalia was getting too... caught up.

Casting her a concerned look, Stitch suddenly felt an Aura invade his senses, blossoming into existance where nothing had once been. The Aura quickly approached, and Stitch moved, almost casually placing himself between the oncoming stranger and the Lady Kamalia. In a quick moment, Stitch focused, pushing questions out of his mind. Lord Gromhir. Stitch paused, cocking his head at his friend. That was a rather sudden appearance. Apparently they weren't really allowed to move any farther at all. He motioned for Sasin's silence as both the Lord and Lady shared their moment together, something that Stitch had seen them do on many an occassion. From what he understood, they simply used it to share experiences with the other, which was quite a handy skill. He was envious, almost.

Cocking his head at the two, Stitch felt confusion creep throughout his mind again. Ancient magics? He wasn't really so sure how to handle those. Five masks? He could probably pull that off. "This one would like to humbly mention, once again, that the two teams have five masks between them... Perhaps if we talk to the other team, we can come to a mutual agreement...? Otherwise..." Stitch took a deep breath, and lifted the mavolent mask of the Ghost. "...If the others wish to continue playing..." The mask was applied, and Stitch was a spector once more. Gleaming red eyes within a horrifying mask, yet a gentle voice speaking. It was an odd combination. "...this one will work with the team. Did you have a plan on how to disrupt the wedding, Sasin? Does milord and milady agree with such a plan, or is there another path we should take? Like this one said, this one will work with the team. This one only wants to make sure no one gets hurt, and then move on."

Stitch reached out, giving Gromhir a pat on the shoulder, and a smile that was hidden by the mask. He was comforted to have the Kelvic nearby again. Perhaps that would settle the Lady Kamalia from whatever was working her up.

[Tarot]

As the remaining participants gathered in the backstage, noises could be heard beyond the thick red curtain. If they dared to take a peek - and they would, wouldn't they? - they would make a most unsettling discovery. Just like they had been furthering their own agenda in the break between the Acts, so, too, had the audience. They were completing preparations of their own, and they were not looking so good. Here, groups of four masked men were carefully setting up ballistas on several boxes in the second tier. There, more of the fiends were dragging two small catapults around the far end of the theater. Over there in a corner, four audience members were boiling oil in a cauldron for use with said catapults and who knew what else. All weapons were aimed at the stage. The amount of weaponry deployed would have seemed utterly comical if not for the fact that the players were about to step onto that very stage. One thing was certain - the Game was approaching its climax. The curtain rose and the drama began. Gromhir the Kelvic, Sasin the Dhani, Kamalia the Konti and the three humans - Stitch of the blind eye, Alistair of the spinning gear and Jaeden of the party tent - were actors on the verge of being fired, or being fired at, anyways. However, before any of them could really show up or speak a line, mechanical noises of levers and pulleys signaled the activation of a device. Gromhir had seen it before while he sneaked his way through the audience. It was some kind of crane with a platform attached to it, large enough to host an entire group. Right now, there was a lone masked figure clad in dark robes standing upon the platform as it landed on the stage. It looked female and carried a large black sword. "That which the gods made separate should never be forced into union by the frail hearts of mortals," she proclaimed after the platform touched the ground, facing the audience, "Lives, loves, nations. The petty squabbles of men and women, their thirst for power, their wants and their needs - they lead to nothing but ruin. On this day, too, more eyes will have seen the dawn than those left open to see the dusk. For I am Dira, and my chariot is always full." She spread her arms, indicating the platform she was standing upon. She spoke no more, merely turning to face the action - apparently a 'goddess' was allowed to turn her back on the audience after all. A ghost of an objective was beginning to form. They had a way to move up, to move on. But how did they go about joining Dira's chariot? And how did Sins factor into all of this?

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden stepped into the backstage area, hearing the rustles and clanks of activity from behind the curtain. His hand moved up, tugging lightly at the curtain shortly after pulling his mask back down into place. A soft grumble escaped his lips as he saw the ballista being set up along the balcony on one side, catapults on the other being set up to fire jugs of boiling hot oil. “Well, that’s a bit overkill.” Jaeden commented as he looked back to Alistair, motioning towards the preparations of the audience. “It was bad enough when they just had hand held weapons, not they’re bringing in the building breakers.”

Jaeden began walking towards the center of the backstage area as the curtains began to rise. His head turned sharply, soon hearing the mechanical movements of the platform and the stage being lowered. A frown crossed his features from under the mask as he observed the Dira extra saying her lines and motioning towards the platform. A few steps more, and Jaeden eventually found himself grouped with team Dusk, awaiting Alistair to join them before turning to them. “Well, the audience has raised the stakes, and we’ve the added extra of Dira and her “chariot” also.” Jaeden said softly in assessment giving a brief look back towards the stage. “All depends on how much every one of you are willing to risk for the reward. The exits, however, are looking pretty tempting at this point. I suspect the chariot with the Dira extra will only require our character’s death within the play, and not our actual death. After all, our actual deaths would prove moot, as no one would claim the prize.”

Jaeden then jabbed a thumb in the direction of the ballista and catapults. “However, the act will have to be good, because I certainly don’t feel like having a ballista bolt being fired through my chest.” Jaeden then commented before his hand fell down to his waist. “I’m open to suggestions at this point, and a vote as to whether or not we continue this game.”