[OPEN] War Log I: The Island

[scorchedevents]

Who: Anyone who traveled to the Island!
When: 23 - 27ish
Where: The Island beyond the sea
Format: ANYTHING YOU PREFER. Action to start out.
What: The battle rages in the island village (name as yet unknown XD) against the elves and the flying reptilian monsters. Not to mention that epic dragon.
Warnings: Violence, I'm guessing.
Notes: Tag into

Comments

The Town Square

[scorchedevents]

[Cages full of villagers are guarded by elves, while some of the most prominent buildings around them burn. Mages in the area keep the flames from spreading to the elves themselves, or their captives. Reptilian creatures swarm the air and crawl along the cobblestonned ground...]

[And, of course, there is always that Door.]

SAM WHERE ARE YOU

[lestrangestone]

[Something about the flames draws her eye, and she stands still, unable to look away. One of the captives calls out, reaching a hand through the bars as he screams for her attention. Please he cries.

She's inexplicably transfixed and staring into the flames, deaf to the cries and blind to the danger before her.

Not far from where she stands, an red elf readies his bow.]

YOU WILL REGRET THIS SOMEDAY MAYBE

[lestrangestone]

[Suddenly she's on the ground. Breath knocked out in a rush of stone and dirt and limbs and a whoosh overhead - sick thunk of metal into flesh. She's all too familiar with it, and it's a moment before she realizes she hadn't reached for her own dagger because it's no longer there to reach for.

The thought goes no further because she's suddenly aware - and reaching for the hand without question. She recognizes his face in the small space of time before she speaks (he's the one with the less irritating questions). - but her eyes are on the elf first.]

I suppose I should thank you.

Accio blade

[Out of the elf and into her palm it is. Months earlier it's next destination might have been straight into the chest of the owner, but she extends it toward him so he might take it. Is that thanks enough?]

The Burning Residential District

[scorchedevents]

[An entire residential district is up in flames. Protected by their wizards, the elves seem unconcerned.]

[Will you face them, or save the buildings?]

[halcyonthird]

[Fuck the buildings right now, but fuck those elves even harder. To the unknowing eye it looks as if she's just walking right up to them.

Well, she kind of is.

Three elves advance - two of them are halved before they raise their spears - quartered before they fall. Now her blade appears drawn, but it does not appear to move or stray the path.

Her eyes remain on the cages as she's haunted by memories of the cages that came before and the shadows of people that no longer reside in Anatole. Another step and another - two more fall - and another - walking through them as they spray red rain.

Her hair is slick with it as she presses forward.]

Re: The Burning Residential District

[heartbetween]

[Kaien is here, first and foremost, to protect the people of this island. Thus, he focuses on the buildings before the elves. He stands in midair, just above the burning rooftops with Nejibana in shikai, spinning the trident above his head as water pours forth from both ends, dousing any nearby flames. As each burning portion of the district goes out, Kaien moves onto the next set of buildings.

Once all the flames are gone, he will check the buildings for anyone left inside, and only then will he face off against the elves.

He still has a score to settle with them, after all.]

[ooc: see this video for reference. Very minor spoilers re: Kaien.]

[sleuth_ing]

[You might have seen her out in the fray, the small girl with a revolver - retrieved from the tunnelmen before this ordeal began, thankfully - running here and there, sometimes accompanied by a strange-looking pixie flitting about her head. Between herself and her Persona, she's taken out a fair amount of monsters, and a few elves

The Forest

[scorchedevents]

[Follow the trail of mud from the stoned square and through the dirt-paved alleys, and you may find yourself wandering into the forest... where elves stand guard over caged villagers.]

[prescientblade]

[Teresa had gone as far as she could once they set foot on the island, after everyone spread out. The whole place was chaos, but there would be people enough in the streets, and the island was larger than the village itself. A little exploring brought her to a small cluster of guarded cages in a clearing.]

[She remembers from last time. The stories everyone who was kidnapped had brought back. The poison and fear. She recalls once long ago when she found a similar nest of degenerates hiding in the forest, but these creatures aren't human.]

[And so her sword is in her hand before anyone who might be watching could probably follow.]

[prevaricatress]

[ She had managed to keep out of the trouble the last time the elves had been encountered, and had internally debated with herself immensely - for hours - about so willingly engaging with them now. But she'd gotten away from Anatole, as was desired, and after getting off that rank ship, things had not been so bad

[prescientblade]

[Teresa heard the footstep and then the voice immediately after - small, frightened. A girl. She turns to look back at the newcomer, wondering how on earth they kept finding her, and what she was doing all the way out here.]

I know it.

[She keeps her voice near to a whisper in case the elves might hear - she spares a glance back at them and then moves closer to the girl, smooth and silent as a shadow. But she doesn't put her sword away.]

Are you lost, child? I came to kill these things. You shouldn't be here.

The Quiet Zone

[scorchedevents]

[In the forest, there is a clearing - as yet untouched by elves. A narrow stream trickles through the grass, clean and cool.]

[Perhaps you could lead the villagers here, or perhaps simply stop to regroup?]

The Quiet Zone

[princely_calyx]

[Utena had taken on the task of leading the few villagers others had freed from the elves to safety in this little patch of forest. She did her best to keep the natives calm and quiet. As the natives sorted themselves out and washed out whatever wounds they had sustained, Utena prepared to make another run back.]

[unorthodoxies]

[ There is fresh blood in Benten's hair, standing out stark against the mess of golden champagne curls. And while the streaks of scarlet are not his own, they still are far from his favorite fashion accessory, and therefore must be eliminated as soon as possible. Before the dampness started to dry, crusted over to a sick shade of brown, and totally ruined his look for the day.

Inherently Mizuchi, he finds his way to the stream quickly, and hums in pleasant surprise when he finds the water to be crystal clear and crisp. Perfect.

Excuse him, while he rinses those silken locks of his clean. ]

[reddenedrage]

[ There was enough carnage to take part in, though the hand to hand was getting a bit stifled. The angel had taken to the air, which afforded him the options to play a bit more, and target practice was always more fun when there were a lot of those targets and a whole lot more of fire.

Michael had scoured the area he had found himself in, and is now looping around, eyes to the ground for any other thing that called itself a threat. He has no great loyalty to the city he's found himself in, but hell if this isn't a war, and fuck if he isn't going to join in.

It's only chance that light hair flashes, that his mind catches that fact to question if Raphael did come along (but no, he is back there, Michael can feel him further away) before recognizing further. Faces and names escape him regularly, but he isn't going to forget this one. His eyes narrows and he starts a steep dive, wings retracting before he hits the ground so he slams down with force and flame on the other side of the stream. ]

You... What the hell are you doing here?

By the docks [Locked to Bran and Isley]

[yetsleeping]

[There are more than she expected... and she doesn't really mind. Battle is where Priscilla feels most at home - more than the rooftops, or the lush quarters where she makes her home. More than the ruins, in themselves, or the corridors of Isley's mansion

...ish

[branthebroken]

[He'd seen it. He'd seen her fall, right there on the Forge while scanning the network for news from the island. No one else had though, and even if they had, would they really stop to help her? Could they?]

[It was in a panic that he did it, almost without thinking, gripping the Forge hard in his hands and

reaching

...]

[...and when he (she? her name is Priscilla, isn't it?) stands, it's with sword in hand, feet hard on the ground, and he's dizzy. From the effort, from the success, from walking again, walking by all the gods, and something else too. Something thick and suffocating that makes his head pound and his muscles shake (her her muscles, they aren't his, not really) and it's almost like a whisper in those ears

docksish!

[swordofthenorth]

[The sky is black with whirring arrows when Isley finds himself struck. Three of the elves' bolts pierce his flesh, their steel heads buried deep in his left shoulder, the right side of his chest, and his left thigh. He can't tell which is contaminated by the magic poison they use, but if even one is, then it is too many. A great deal of his strength leaves him in a flood. It shouldn't, as an awakened being he should be immune, but distantly he recalls that even Rigaldo had once fallen victim to these creatures and their tricks.]

[They are not invulnerable to magic. He isn't. The effects the Mist has had on him in the past is proof enough. That girl with the dragons has proven that to him, also

dachshund!

[branthebroken]

[The run is a bit faster than he expected it to be.]

[A lot faster, actually. The body moves by instinct, painfully quiet, unstruggling, but Bran doesn't expect the amount of momentum or the intensity of the speed, and reels in time to dodge the elf. Sort of. And then everything seems to happen at once - the pain of something biting into his - her - shoulder, a bone-rattling roar overhead, the pressure in his mind as a renewed burst like someone dropping a thick wet blanket over him. Instinct, it runs on instinct, just like Summer, and now Priscilla is hidden deep and telling him, feeding him sparks like a warning.]

[Someone. Coming this way. Something big.]

[Bran swings, staring, moving quick enough to connect sword with elf but not fast enough to truly damage it, and he can see someone approaching in the wave of pressure rushing in around him.]

[Big and dangerous. But the man isn't one of the elves...]

Help!