![[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}
Entry tags:
- #event,
- arthur stuart (velvet goldmine),
- aymeric de borel (final fantasy xiv),
- jace herondale (shadowhunters),
- jughead jones (riverdale),
- kenzi malikov (lost girl),
- kurt wagner (xmcu),
- loki (mcu),
- marcus wright (tsfb),
- mikaela hyakuya (sote),
- nico di angelo (chb),
- private joker (full metal jacket),
- rafaello d’este (oc),
- will solace (chb),
- wyatt lawson (oc)
War with D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.
Characters: Ensemble cast, any/all characters of Xistentia!
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!
Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.
For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.
The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree. You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.
You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.
She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.
Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.
Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.
And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.
Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.
The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.
You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.
In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.
The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.
Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.
But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.
Summary: D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. comes to Xistentia for the first time, bringing with it violence and havoc. Combat against enemy agents, healing, emergency sanctuary, and "Drift Compatibility" happen here. Refer to the OOC plotting post and the mod announcement!
Date(s): November 4-18
Warnings/Notes: Violence, death, psychological themes, trauma. Please warn for anything else in your subject headers!
WAR WITH DESTINY
By headsman's blade or battle-axe
Fight For Your Life
Everything is, in short, super fucked. Era Ra's warning came at the right time, forewarning of some of the weapons and fighting styles that could be expected from D.E.S.T.I.N.Y.'s agents, but still, the people of Xistentia have not faced a force like this before. The ragtag combination of fighting styles and tactics promises both versatility and confusion.
For better or worse, D.E.S.T.I.N.Y. is in similar chaos.
The first to come are ships from the Western sea, bearing a mix of warriors in and monsters. Some wield old-fashioned steel swords and others bear laser blasters, and their armor is just as varied. Some creatures appear domesticated, while others are feral and snap at their own. However, one primary feature identifies the enemy: their war color is red, which adorns flags and uniforms. Interestingly, the sea and sky of Xistentia seem to be fighting back in their own way, massive waves and a storm, even animals pestering them as they attempt to land the beach. However, it's only a matter of time before the mainstay of their forces reach land, some two hundred fighters. It's then that sentient fires start to whirl into the forests, leaping from tree to tree. You have the home court advantage. Even the foliage itself seems to cooperate with you, aiding in efforts for stealth by keeping you downwind, twigs failing to crack when you misstep. Soon, you're joined by Xistentia's other forces-- a handful of battered ships taking air, an odd assortment of elves and talking dogs, demons and aliens from outer-space, coordinating counter-attacks.
BATTLE MODE: ATTACK
You're locked in combat with a woman who seems oddly familiar, though you don't know her face and can't think of her name. You hit her in the head, and now a narrow slice of her face shows through her red-rimmed helm. She wields a rifle tipped with a heavy blade, though it crackles with electrical energy. She is a proficient swordswoman, deftly parrying and striking against you, her face eerily expressionless. Her blade has a switch that, when activated, will send out a net that numbs your limbs and drags you to the floor. Here's hoping you won't face this demon alone.
She's not your only problem. You may have noticed, that in every epic battle with evil wizards, there's always some kind of a problematically gigantic elephant. This is one of those days. At least, there's only one, its trunk as wide as a car, its feet moving slow, so that it might crush the trees rather than trip over them.
Fight one or both, or fight the hordes of nameless minions around them. Either way: there's plenty to do. Those of you who thought things were too quiet here? You'll be busy today.
SEEK SANCTUARY
Fighting isn't for you? Well, you'll want to get out of the way, then. The "wards" protecting the city are failing, and people are heading toward The Temple where the protections remain the strongest. Here, the injured need healing in the stone beds. The civilians do their best, comforting children, cooking food, trading intelligence, repairing weapons and armor where possible. Feel free to pitch in; they need all the help they can get.
BATTLE MODE: SUPPORT (PSYLINK)
And here, you've reached the Temple, you've laid yourself down on one of the many glass-and-stone beds within the safety of its stone walls. You know what the other Xistentia residents have told you about it— this is the next phase, after the memory share had raised shields against the psychotropic rain. This is the PsyLink. Through this bond, you are said to be able to activate special defenses. No one seems to know exactly what they are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And beyond the Temple walls, times are desperate indeed.
Each drift requires at least two people. Your daemons will find and connect you, seemingly at random— and you may find yourself with the unlikeliest of partners.
Drift Compatible
The Kissing Booth participants find it easiest. Everyone else-- it's a wild jumble, finding yourself caught up in a firehose of not only your own memories, but that of someone else. Everything they think, everything they feel, is intertwined with your mind.
You can't get caught up in it. You have to let the memories of the past, your predictions for the future, and the terror of war flow in and out of you, without neither resistance or pursuit, gently tuning them out. And in this serenity, this psychic silence, this acceptance of not only yourself but the other other, you find perfect connectivity— harmony with your PsyLink partner.
In this space, you find yourself having strange conversations. You and your partner will share ghostly images, some of which seem to be images from the past— while others seem to be present-day moments from the battle outside, fighting the enemy, as if you are somehow in two places at once. You must find traction and stay in the now and stay calm, but it's harder than you think.
The instant you latch onto that memory or emotion, it's a mistake... but you forget.
Your shadow is here. Whether out-of-context, or right here where it was meant to be, it's trying to kill you.
But you're not trapped here alone. Someone is calling your name, a familiar voice in the pandemonium. That voice comes from your drift partner. It's up to them to pull you back, remind you of who you are, and balance you. Hold on to them - they're your anchor, but you'll have to do the same for them. A successful drift means helping each other. Do it well, and you'll help to power the temple's defences. Fail, and there'll be trouble for everyone seeking sanctuary here.
no subject
He pushes off with all his might, using the propelling movement to slam them downward, effectively rattling whatever (or whoever) might be inside the armor.] Of course not.
[An irritated lash of the tail seems to be all he lets on about being offended, if that's even a thing. His demeanor is calm-- possibly more level-headed than it should be, even.] Are you? [he fires back, ruby-red eyes narrowed with skepticism.]
no subject
I doubt these guys would have good enough taste in puns to be my friends. After all, they seem kind of shellfish, don't you think?
[In reality the combat he's been seeing so far is actually taking a toll on him, but one he's yet to register. Still isn't gonna stop his awful jokes, though.]
Can't say as I've seen someone like you before, either. Name's Farraige. Wizard, wielder of Pun-ishing jokes and sometimes water too.
[Said water returns from the pools around them, swirling around him and awaiting his next magical command.]
no subject
[Perhaps, if they get along well, he may even make a few of his own. Time will tell in this case and names are a good place to start. His heel comes down on the back of the neck to immobilize his enemy, pointed canines dipping over a blue lower lip.] A pleasure to meet you, Farraige. I'm Kurt. Or 'Nightcrawler,' if you'd rather use a codename. [He's never sure what people would prefer.] Teleporter. The only thing I've wielded besides this [a brief flash of the knife at his side] is a rapier.
[Another haze of smoke and a bamf later, he's on a tree that's closer to the proclaimed wizard.] Interesting, [he notes.] Back in my homeworld, you're what we'd classify as Homo sapien superior.
no subject
[A codename? Interesting. Kelphead has to wonder if he's military where he comes from.]
With a name like that, you gotta be some sort of secret agent. Being able to teleport like that is impressive, too. Usually displacing living matter and keeping it from exploding or falling apart is incredibly difficult, even for wizards much older than me.
[He at least understands Kurt is trying to call him human, but it doesn't completely make sense.]
I dunno that I'd call myself superior to someone else.
no subject
[Not military, per se, yet he's certainly training for war. Or, preferably, for one that won't come anytime soon. (In his lifetime, if he's lucky.)]
Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm nothing that special. [Yet, anyway. They're X-Men, regardless of what others say, though Kurt can't help feeling like he doesn't quite belong in that category. The boy's still young and impulsive (all of them are), far too quick to leap before looking in his opinion.] Thank you. There's a man here by the name of Stark. He wants to run energy tests, see what makes the displacements work.
[Something he's all too willing to figure out.]
No, that's not— [Frown.] Homo superior is the proper name for a 'mutant.'
no subject
[He might disagree about Kurt not being special, dude seemed pretty cool to him.]
I'm guessing this Stark guy is a scientist? Dunno if I've met him yet.
[Farraige pauses for a moment at Kurt's explanation. It does kind of sting to hear himself described as a mutant, something inhuman, but he doesn't let it linger overlong. Play it off with a joke.]
I mean... Where I come from, mutant was one of the nicer things people called someone with magical talent.
no subject
[Disagree all you like; he'll continue to insist that special agents are far more skillful than he is.]
Physicist, [he corrects.] Tony is his first name. I'm not sure if I should use it or not, since he is my elder. [Politeness could be a downfall for some people. Kurt's getting better with not letting people walk all over him, but there are those times.]
What else were you called? [Some mutants appeared normal, maybe the oddly colored hair, eyes, or other peculiar feature. Something that might be easily hidden and sometimes, not even that. They look completely human compared to Kurt, who's suffered other names such as 'demon,' 'freak,' and 'abomination.' He's almost positive hellspawn has been used before, too.
This isn't a contest, though, so he sees no need to mention any of them.]
no subject
[The question earns a wry smile. It's a bit of a tough one to answer, though it's getting easier with time.]
Harbingers of the end, mass murderers, servants of the devil, just to name a few. Though to be fair, I can understand why they would feel that way. Magic did some pretty awful damage to the world when it came back.
no subject
Ooo, [he drawls with amusement.] Harbingers of the end sounds pretty rad, actually.
[Kurt shrugs, though, disappearing rather suddenly in a haze of smoke. After reappearing in the same manner on another tree branch, he spares a glance over his shoulder then turns back to the other boy.] A few bad apples don't have to ruin the bunch.
no subject
[Clearly a subject that troubled him, and the underlying loss behind it doubly so.]
It's all very selfish, if you ask me.
no subject
[His head bobs with understanding, not only because he's heard that spiel before, but because he feels like there are far too many mutants that believe they've been objectified and try to take it out on the wrong people. Not all humans are alike; he can't force people to understand, though.]
And what are your thoughts on humans?