Force and Fury

O R I F L A M M E

Honestly, I don't want anybody to feel intimidated by the posts here. We're all at different points in how much time and effort we have to dedicate to this endeavour and in how much we've honed the particulars of our various writing-related skills. What all of us have, however, is the desire to tell a story and to tell it well. Doesn't matter exactly how we do that - how long it is, how evocative our adjectives are, and how pretty our formatting looks - just that we tell it with heart and earnestness. I can't wait to read all of your stories set within this grander narrative that we're crafting together. Honestly, I'm just really inspired and humbled that this many people trust me enough to storytell within a world that I created (and which we'll grow together).

The Hourglass Order

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J O C A S T A R E

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Marceline had already given Jocasta the sign. The two of them exchanged smiles, but the younger girl wasn't quite finished. First, she had to deal with... Zarina's question. "Oh, just down over that way," she replied. "We have our own rooms. If you're here for another night," she recommended, pausing for just a moment too long, "you should come visit." She turned, holding onto Zarina's eyes for just a moment longer, and wheeled away.

Jocasta's heart was pounding. It had been the entire time, but she kept her smile. "Well, looks like we're the last two," she chirped, twisting to glance at Zarina. "Sleep well, friend." She rolled her eyes tiredly. "Gods, I know I will." For a moment, she was glad of having wheels to occupy her hands, else they'd have been visibly shaking. She pushed herself into her room and closed the door.

There, waited a bath, but it would wait some time longer. Sleep was not something that she could have in this place. Every moment had been a reminder of things she so desperately wanted to forget. Yet Jocasta could not. They should not be forgotten. She closed her eyes and set her face to stone. Air went into her lungs and left it. When she opened them, it was not Jocasta Re who stared at some crippled girl in a mirror. Volto Certosa reached out with the Gift, far beyond the walls of this place of nightmares, into the desert. From the shifting sands many miles away, she drank her fill of energy and rose, a pale ghost by flickering lamplight. Around her head swirled a halo of golden hair, though it had not always been golden, not when she had worn a different name.

She found a great beast in the sands and still she gathered. With an unholy strength, force and motion roared into her from its muscle and sinew and she was filled only when it let out a great keening man and began to slow. She released it.

Seizing the threads of space and time, Certosa pulled them to herself. Images of places and people not from here or now flew past, but the assassin knew exactly what she was searching for. Finding it, she tore through its fabric and emerged somewhere else.

It looked the exact same as it had seven years ago, when first she'd been invited inside. For a moment, the fears of a weak girl bubbled to the surface. Tiny hairs stirred on the back of her neck and she wanted nothing more than to be swathed in layers of the thickest, safest, most opaque clothing imaginable, somewhere far away from here. She felt parts of herself that she could no longer feel and wished that she hadn't. She wanted to press the distant memory of her knees together and run.

The girl lost. Sleeping soundly in his bed was Joaquin Gutierrez: a few years older and heavier. His hair was thinner now, and shot through with more visible streaks of grey, but his was a face that had remained with her like a ghost.

She had come to exorcise it.

OOC Warning: Disturbing Content. Read at your own discretion.

Angel of Death

Certosa drifted over to his bedside and perched upon the edge, an angel in white. "Joaquin," she said softly, reverting her hair to its natural black and deadening the sound from leaving this room.

He awoke with a start and scrabbled backwards in his bed. "Who? Whah- how?"

She smiled coldly. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Who are you?" he demanded. "How did you get in here!?"

"You don't remember me, Joaquin?" She tilted her head to one side. "You said our love would last forever," she chuckled bitterly.

His eyes narrowed.

"Only, it wasn't love, was it, Joaquin?" An edge crept into her voice. The words: they had snap to them.

"Con...Consuela?"

"You raped me," she said simply, reaching out a hand toward him. He batted it away, looking like he'd seen a ghost.

"You're dead! I'm dreaming!" He made the sign of the Pentad.

"You raped me," she snarled, voice cracking. "Again and again." Her eyes flashed.

"In nomini Ipte, Xun, Orraz, Echerra, e Dami!" He reached for the Pentact on his night table, but she seized him by the wrist before he could get there. She squeezed and he let out a satisfying sound.

"You raped me and you killed my baby."

"Bruja! Fantasma! Criatura malvada!"

"Oh Joaquin," she replied, with a beatific smile. "No." She shook her head and the smile fell away. "I am justice."

He tried to rip his hand away, but she tightened her grip and he squealed in pain. "This is a dream. You are a dream."

A nightmare, Certosa thought.

He drew back and smacked her, then, across the face. It turned her head and left her cheek red, but she let herself feel the sting of it. She let herself remember. She turned back to face him, gaze unflinching.

"I am being attacked," he screamed. "Help!" He went to deliver another blow but she stopped it with kinetic magic. "¡Ayuda! ¡Ayuda! Somebody!"

"They will never hear you," she said by way of reply. "You should accept what is coming. It won't be so bad." She shook her head the exact way that he had as he'd stood above her. As he'd pulled out his belt and it had snaked down in his hand. "You might even enjoy it," she told him. "Stupid boy." She altered the formula but kept the spirit.

"What is this? Some kind of revenge fantasy?" He snarled, finding some spine. "How are you even alive? I watched you die."

"In a way, you're right," she answered. "Consuela died that day, but you didn't finish the job."

"What do you want?" He barked. "Sorry? I'm sorry! You were a dying girl! You were so beautiful... mi vida. And so sad... I only wanted to give you something: to make you happy. I am sorry that I hurt you. He paused for a breath and leaned in, his voice sinking. "Is this about our baby?"

Certosa's hand shot out and smashed into his jaw. His head hurtled into the wall and she rose. "You wanted to give yourself something!" she roared, "Me! You wanted to make yourself happy, with my body: mine! You held me down! You covered my mouth. You hit me!"

His hand reached up instinctively for his mouth and pawed at the blood. Now there was the fear of a man facing his mortality in Joaquin's eyes. That was what she'd been waiting for. She paused a moment to drink it in. "You... you didn't struggle after the first two times," he protested weakly.

"I learned it would go faster if I didn't."

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered and she was reminded of the act that she put on every day. "I... I am. I did a bad thing. I ask Dami's forgiveness."

But not mine.

She could feel him gathering energy. Gutierrez had the Gift - a bit of it anyways: Enough to have frightened poor Consuela with it. With what he must've thought was speed, the hand he'd been hiding behind his back flashed out at her with a dagger. From it leapt an arcane beam which she easily absorbed. She turned the energy into kinetic and ripped the blade from his fingers. Cold eyes lanced down at it before meeting his. "Pathetic, Joaquin, really. Even by your standards, that was poor form."

Presently, he began screaming again for help, like a stupid doomed animal that did not yet understand that it was caught in the trap of something far more intelligent than itself. Certosa began to tire of this. She had seen his fear. She had felt his desperation, his anguish, his rudimentary little mind scurrying from one idea to the next, trying to save his worthless life.

"Cucaracha," she sneered, grabbing him by the face and rising into the air. He thrashed and struggled with all his might and she could not begrudge him that, for it was all that he could do. Dying with dignity was not something a worm like him understood: maybe, she reflected, not even something that she understood.

"Come, we're going on a little trip: the last place we saw each other." She seized, once again, the threads of space and time, focusing, nearly crushing his face in her intensity. Luckily, not quite. "Oh, do be quiet and stop your noises, Joaquin."

Shooting into the desert from nowhere came a white comet and its cargo. It streaked above a ruin, rolled up into the air with an almost childlike freedom, and then plunged toward the ground. At the last moment, it pulled up and released its unwilling passenger.

Certosa scrubbed all of her speed and hovered there, nightgown fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. From sand, stone, blood, and bone, she called forth into her palm a wickedly grinning mask of the colour that she was named for.

Joaquin was already running. She could feel him trying to draw energy from surroundings that were nearly bereft of it, trying to boost himself with kinetic magic. "Is that all your body can do?" She howled. "So sad! Don't worry!" She stalked him. "I will help you!"

Like a dragon swooping down on its prey, she plowed into him and hammered him into the ground. Hovering there, a couple of feet above a stone where he had once left her to die, Certosa seized him by the face, her grip unnaturally strong, tearing into his flesh, gripping his very skull. She raised him up and flung him aside like scrap, but she was merciless. Again, the angel of death swept in. "Please," he groaned, his face tattered and body broken, "Just kill me. If you're going to do it. Just-"

"Shut up." She grabbed him, raised him up and slammed his head once more into the rock. Again, she lifted and drove him into it. And again. And again until her white nightgown was a canvas of red spatters and spots.

Jocasta released what were scraps of hair and flesh and shook them free of her hand. She discarded her mask and floated there. Chest heaving in the moonlight, she closed her eyes and... what emerged was uncertain, for it was an awful, happy, anguished noise. Tears streamed down her cheeks and there was nobody here to see them. She did not even look back at the body.

Morning dawned, hot and cloudless, and the Refuge came to life. From their various living quarters emerged hundreds of children, teens, and young adults, all in various stages of the Tethering: on four, only nominally on four, and on two. It was observed that those who were 'on zero', nearing the end, rarely left their rooms and even more rarely left the area that was set aside specifically for them.

Nevertheless, the small settlement in the high desert fairly thrummed with life and energy compared to its desolate surroundings. Footsteps and wheel tracks crisscrossed the central plaza and the various dining rooms and covered verandahs filled with people.

In one of these, held somewhat aloof from the others, gathered a cohort of nine. There was space for a tenth, but that seat remained empty. "So as you can see, all of the faster beasts," the Warden was saying, "have been coming from many directions." He pointed to a handful of spots on a map that occupied the center of a large circular table. "The slower ones, however, mostly from here: the southeast." He took out a pencil and drew a line. "Along this corridor, maybe ten degrees each way. I think, if we search there, we might have some luck."

Presently, breakfast was brought out by some of the more simply-dressed caretakers that Marceline had referred to as 'Pigeons.' She was here as well, and cut a rather different figure now that she was on her feet with the aid of braces and crutches. A long summer dress obscured the former from view, however. In any case, the group adjourned for breakfast: omelettes, Pan Con Tomate, bocadillos, and tostadas, with some coffee, fresh fruits, and churros for desert.

The warden, who'd been in intermittent communication with a series of messengers since shortly after they'd gathered, took a moment to excuse himself, and he strode briskly away, leaving the seven teens, including Marceline, with a sole adult supervisor: a Vice Warden named Adela Mirabel-Gonzalez.

When he returned, he clasped his hands, businesslike. "So, I hope you've enjoyed your breakfast, because I dare say you will certainly need the energy today." At a questioning look from the Vice Warden, he could only shake his head tightly. He addressed everyone, however. "We will be following the search plan outlined: ten degrees to either side of the corridor and - somewhere along there - we should find our aberración. However -" He nodded at Mirabel. "The man who was supposed to be your guide - one of our rangers - has unfortunately gone missing." He held up a hand. "Certainly, it doesn't seem that foul play was involved. There was no sign of forced entry in his room and his horse, boots, coin purse, and riding cloak are gone. Nonetheless, this leaves us having to find you someone else." He pursed his lips, unhappy, but his face softened after a moment and he shrugged. "There is nothing novel to be done, however. We will reassign one of the others. It will just take some time to work out. In the meanwhile, please feel free to make use of the staff facilities. We ask that you try to avoid the patients. They are having a special day today and it is best to simply let them enjoy themselves. Your presence here is appreciated but can be a source of worry for some." He clasped his hands, businesslike. "Now, I will be on my way and we shall reconvene here at..." he trailed off and furrowed his brow. "Five HS but, first, I am here to answer your questions should there be any."

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Action Opportunities

We've moved forward some eight hours in this post, from about midnight to 3:25 HS (half past three) the next morning. Plenty can have happened during the night and can also happen during the coming hour and a half before you leave the Refuge and set out on the mission in earnest.

1) People can certainly have gotten up and snooped during the night. If you need some pointers on what they may have seen, feel free to message me.

2) At this juncture, I do not want anyone having seen what Jocasta/Certosa did and/or busting the case wide open. There will be more than builds as we go on. She covered her tracks very well too, as was referenced. Feel free to have noticed one or two small things that were innocuous without context but that could mean a lot more with further clues in the future.

3) Go ahead and describe any morning experiences!

4) It's time to question the Warden. Just a warning that he will eagerly answer questions about the aberration situation but he will deflect and deny anything remotely accusatory about the state of the residents. Address it the right way, however, and you may earn yourself a 'tour'.

5) You can always interact with Marceline, any others you've met, and others you have yet to meet but have planned to run into here.

6) Train, meditate, socialize, or prepare for the next phase of the mission in less than two hours.

Happy posting!

The Hourglass Order

Manfred Hohenfelter von Meckelin-Thandau

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That Manfred had fought as a soldier was as plainly written on him as the colour of his eyes or the clothes that he wore. War leaves its mark on a man: in his thoughts, bearing, and actions if he is fortunate enough that it does not ruin his body.

Manfred was fortunate. By almost any measure, he was supreme in his fortune. He was young, healthy, and of noble birth. He had skill in the Gift and most women found him comely. Yet, he had been dead inside before coming to Ersand'Enise. Less than a month in and he had already changed. He had lived, he had loved, and he had laughed in a way that he hadn't thought possible since his time on the battlefield, since the day he learned that Nina had been sent to a Tethered refuge.

That made the return of his soldiering instincts that much more painful, for he knew what he had to do. Dorothea, with whom he had shared a bed, a smile before breakfast most mornings, and many of his hopes and fears, had gone horribly wrong. The situation was only complicated by the fact that her feelings weren't at all unwarranted. He did not believe Carmillia for one moment and he certainly did not trust Zarra. The former was a schemer - he knew the type - with little ability in the Gift. The latter was a self-serving gloryhound who could be relied upon only to do whatever it was that he wanted. And what he had wanted was to play the blood-soaked hero while leaving Manfred's beloved to possibly die. He looked upon her porcelain neck: something that he had kissed, caressed, and cradled many a time.

He picked out where her carotid artery was and calmly met Eun-Ji's gaze.

In a single smooth motion that anyone else would be hard-pressed to even register as aggressive, he flattened his hand into a blade and drew it back. This, he unleashed with great speed into Dorothea's neck. It was simply the fastest way to resolve an issue that seemed hellbent on spiraling further. He stood there as events played themselves out over the next few seconds, frowning. "Ihr Eingreifen ist nicht erforderlich," he said evenly, meeting the incoming arcanist's eyes.

Translation

Your intervention is not required.

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O R I F L A M M E

Alrighty, all! Just waiting on slightly amended Camille and Edmund to be posted. Then, we should be good to go!

O R I F L A M M E

6-1-2022: Oriflamme Begins

Hello to all of our Heroes of Parrence, Heroes of Eskand, Drudgunzean Allies, and Shifty Yasoi players. The time for Character Sheet submissions is at an end. Welcome, officially, to Oriflamme! If you have made the requested amendments to your character sheets and I've signed off on them, feel free to now add your characters to the Characters Tab. If you haven't, then I suggest doing so now.

As of this moment, Oriflamme is a live, in-progress game and, within the next twenty-four hours, the following will take place:
1) Our roster will be finalized and new signups will be closed.
2) A collage of our characters will be posted.
3) The notice at the top of the OOC will be amended to pertain to the current posting cycle.
3) The IC will commence.

Happy Storytelling!

- FnF

♪

O R I F L A M M E

@Komo You are good to go. Feel free to post your character in the Characters tab once I give the announcement.

O R I F L A M M E

@Siber Just a heads-up that I hadn't asked you to post Tilda in the Characters tab quite yet. A couple of other people who did (I'm looking at you, Jasbraq) weren't supposed to either. Anyways, it's done now and I'm going to be asking everyone to post today. Unless you're especially attached to the last name, let's give our poor musical girl something that spunds properly Drudgunzean, hm? Perhaps Ulmer, Ulker, Ullhard, or Ullman, just to keep the general sound. Otherwise, you're good to go. Please wait for an announcement next time, though!

Also, now that you're in, it's time to join our discord. It's a fun community with a lot of extra resources and much quicker communication. I'm looking forward to seeing you there!

O R I F L A M M E

@Pirouette Awesome character and, as you know, I love the Joan of Arc angle. Before you post her in the character tab, just a couple of minor matters:
1) You were working on this pretty late, so there are a lot of the usual little typos and things. Just give it a good proofread and fix as needed.
2) Parrence is the country and Parrench is the demonym.

O R I F L A M M E

@jasbraq Hey, so thanks for finally getting that in. I know that your vision for the character has a lot more to it than what you wrote here, but I know how you have a hard time with Character Sheets. Hence, I'm going to accept this short version for now and ask that, as you get more ideas for the character and feel less pressure, you work on her some more and fill in things like her background and inventory. Welcome aboard.

O R I F L A M M E

@RezonanceV Big fan of that CS. I an tell that a lot of love went into crafting Caelum and I'm excited to storytell alongside you in this RP. Below are a few small things that I noticed that I think may be worth taking a second look at.
1) As addressed on discord, the Oraff/Oraphne thing being changed to Oraphe.
2) Small word of warning: nobody is completely immune to Essence magic tampering with the brain, though your guy would have some resistance by virtue of very definite and strong thought patterns: enough that it'd probably give him time to notice and take countermeasures.

Honestly, awesome work!