Event | Console Crash Chaos | Phase One

[cherrywood]

Characters: ALL!
Date: April 17-30, 2014
Location: Keeliai
Situation: In an unexpected and bold attack by Malicant, the console system is completely shut down while food and supply locations all around the city are targeted by bombings.
Warnings/Rating: Explosions! Possible descriptions of related aftermaths, injuries, death, etc.

Shortly after eight in the morning of the 17th, the consoles experience a strange glitching effect. They'll display 15-20 seconds of static, interrupting anything being done on them at the time, before going utterly dark. No power, no signal, completely offline even to detection of their normal bio-mechanical signatures. No amount of energy influx will get them going again, though taking them apart (or trying to) will still cause them to melt into goo.

Within minutes of the console shutdown, explosions will begin ripping through Keeliai. The bombs are all timed as close to simultaneous as coordinating a city-wide attack can be, with many going off within seconds of each other, throwing the thriving morning rush into chaos. They tear into businesses and across public spaces, collapsing walls and blowing piles of debris into the streets. Places of high traffic quickly become evident as prime targets: marketplaces, hospitals, schools and cafes. The streets take only moments to fill with panicking, screaming kedan trying to pull their injured fellows out of harm's way. All told, the explosions take place across approximately a 10-minute stretch and their explosive yields are fairly high.

In addition to the bombs that cause destruction through their blasts, smaller bombs are going off around the city that specifically target food and water supplies, particularly where large stocks of it were kept such as grocers, produce markets, and the like. Rather than cause mass damage, these explosions spray out a fine mist of spores. Any perishables in their immediate area that are splattered develop an oozing black mold within minutes, eventually breaking down organic substances that turn to foul smelling rot and release their own mist, perpetuating the cycle. While skin contact with the mist doesn't harm, inhaling or ingesting it will produce shakes, fever, vomiting with a cumulative effect that has the potential to be fatal. It is much slower to infect the water supply but the sheer volume of rotting perishables will eventually put enough of the spores to taint water sources, approximately 6-8 hours after the original bombings.

The police force are out as soon as possible and within the hour are helping move the injured to safer locations with Evandau in charge, right in their midst and shoulder to shoulder with his subordinates. Not being stockpiles for any of the apparent targets, many of the Foreigner residences have been left undamaged and, wary of putting them in further danger by collecting large groups in public spaces, Foreigners may even be asked to take in a few individuals or a kedan family.

Despite the number of explosions, there are far more reports of injuries as opposed to casualties. The person or persons (or That Bad Guy) responsible for this were, for this attack at least, more intent on damage than on death.

---

LINKS
Fire Sector | Earth Sector | Metal Sector | Water Sector | Wood Sector
Treating the Injured & Safe Houses | Investigations | OOC Plot Post

OOC NOTE: Remember that the consoles and network will be completely offline for the duration of this aspect of the the plot running April 17-23, though Foreigner tech is not affected. Plot questions can be directed to this comment. Have fun!

Comments

Enjolras | Cafe | Open

[solo_patria]

[Enjolras had been in the cafe les amis frequented, with his coffee when the first of the blasts hit, knocking it, and the table he'd been sitting at, to the ground. It was all too reminiscent of the Corinth, of the last moments of their barricade for him to keep everything straight. Where was he, really. What was going on?

His mind scrambled to make some sense of the situation for about half a second, as he surveyed the damage and then something inside of him that had been holding him back snapped and let him go, loosing a thread that had been pulled too tightly for a while. Straightening, because he could, blood dripping from his forehead where he'd been hit somehow, in the chaos, he turned toward the other patrons here, the french dropping from his lips as if at once as he made his way to the nearest other patron there.]

Reports?

[He called, while crouching by someone who appeared to be injured.]

We must ready ourselves for the next attack. If we can move the wounded where there will be nothing breached. Are the bottles prepared?

[The bottles in question containing the acids the medical students had been able to procure were, perhaps, the first sign that Enjolras was not exactly living in the current moment, but nonetheless, he was attempting to continue on.]

We might shore up defenses with some of what they've left us.

[So pointing out, he grabbed for a piece of table, preparing to wedge and stack it upward.]

I'd thought us better fortified than this, but we must make due, now. No matter. Let us show them what it is we fight for, and what we hold dear.

[Where was his hunting gun? Where were any of his things? Combeferre would have another weapon at the ready, yes? If he might find him. But first there was preparing, and hoping that more cannons did not rock so badly as this first had done. It was perhaps a vain hope, but nonetheless, here he was standing still, prepared, with his last breath, to defend the republic, and what it could be.

If only the republic of France were even HERE, of course.]

[philosophe]

[Combeferre had been not too far away (as usual) -- and...well, it certainly was reminiscent of Corinth, and considering home had been on his mind more often than usual these days, suffice to say he was in much the same state as Enjolras.]

I've none. [His answer is cool and quiet, moving to inspect the injured person absently.]

Save that we should check for wounded, if there are --[There's a pause.] There are no rifles, I do not think they have run out of shot yet....

[solo_patria]

[Somewhere in the back of his mind, it occurs to Enjolras that he should make it clear, and not only to Combeferre, how grateful he is for the presence of those here with him. For the moment, with so much going on, he's giving him a tiny, tight smile instead.]

Not out of shot, and no rifles here. Then we are going to need...

[That's broken off by another blast, this one at least not QUITE as close.]

Evacuation, perhaps? If we might find a safe place to do so.

Mind if I drop in?

[jondrette]

[And lo, here was Eponine, too. She'd been dragged out for coffee, in an attempt to sober her, to get her out into the light again, after she had been hiding out in her darkened apartment for some time.

When the bombs hit, Eponine had been tossed to the floor, coffee scalding her leg where it dropped on top of her. The bombs- the noises of canons, the broken wood, the cries of panic- and there was the blond man who called himself Enjolras, the chief.

A piece of wood had hit her cheek, though she remained unaware that she bled as she looked up at Enjolras, and the man at his side. She recognized him, too. Carefully, she dragged herself to her feet.] I have seen no bottles, nor rifles.

Perhaps there is a back-way out, to get some out. [Her voice was lower, as though she'd taken on her guise as Estienne the boy at the barricade once more.]

Re: Mind if I drop in?

[solo_patria]

Enjolras paused a moment to let a curse slip from his lips, even though there was not the time to devote to fully expressing the fury of the moment at that. If they were missing, that could only mean they had been breached somewhat, that perhaps more of the men who had come to the barricades had sought to destroy their work, to discredit the cause.]

In which case, I suspect that retreat IS our best option. You make a good point, Citoyenne.

[What a woman was doing here, at this point in time, besides Mere Huchelope was anyone's guess, but not one Enjolras was going to bother wasting time on making just now. And clearly this was a woman, from the clothing which was strange but he did not question now, where there was not the time.]

[jondrette]

Some back exit, m'sieur! [She urges, pushing her long hair back out of her eyes. Glass shards litter the floor, cutting at her hands, her knees, even through the fabric of her dress.]

We must get the others out. There appear to be innocents here. [And she had to find Marius.]

[solo_patria]

A back exit, yes.

[Enjolras finds himself scanning the cafe, frowning. This is not...It's changed, somehow, in the attack, from what he's known of Corinth. He should not be surprised by this, but he actually is. It is not so important now, of course, though.]

Yes, there are. The attack came rather suddenly.

[And he is pausing by someone who is wounded, frowning as he leans in to check for a pulse, looking for Combeferre to get an opinion, waving the doctor over for another opinion.]

How is it that they knew so SOON?

[jondrette]

Do not ask me! [She snaps shortly. Why would she know? She'd only come here to die.]

certainly not

[philosophe]

There may be. [He nods, briefly, and looks around for a moment. Where are the rifles he had stashed earlier?]

There may be some in the next room, as well, I did leave a few if we were in need of them.

[jondrette]

I will see if I can find them, [She says, before scurrying towards the next room, keeping low, away from any enemy fire. When she makes it to the next room, it doesn't take long for her to realize that no, there are no rifles here. Just a few bottles, which she hastily grabs, before returning back to the men.]

Bottles, m'sieur!

[philosophe]

Is there any thing in them? We might at least make something of them.

[jondrette]

A bit! Not much- take them from me or I shall drink them.

[dracobin]

[Despite the chaos of the morning, it is less than half an hour before Temeraire's thoughts turn to the Amis. It is early yet, but the Amis have been known to drop in at the cafe for a quick breakfast before work, and if they were targeted--

Hurriedly he drops off the last of the kedan recovered from the cafe where he was taking his own breakfast, and without another word takes to the skies.

His heart plummets at the sight of the smoking wreck that comprises most of the front half of the Amis' cafe. There are voices shouting from within, indistinct, and he all but throws himself at the rubble, claws tearing at and shoving aside beams and fallen bricks.]

Enjolras? Combeferre! Are you there, are you all right--

[If nothing else, the sight of a bus-sized dragon calling one's name ought to jar one's senses, at least a little.]

[solo_patria]

Combeferre is here. We have just...

[And here is Enjolras blinking hard at the sight before him. A dragon? Out of children's stories? What? A hallucination, he is certain, but one of a dear friend regardless. ...Temeraire... his mind supplies, though he cannot think what this friend looks like ordinarily. ]

We have just spoken here. I believe that we are trying to get as many as we can out. Our weapons all seem to have vanished. And what of you, my friend? Are you all right?

[dracobin]

[One great sweep of his tail clears away some of the smaller pieces of debris from the cafe's entrance, but the rest of it lies forgotten as Temeraire bounds forward to meet Enjolras, bumping him gently with the tip of his nose to make sure he is unhurt.]

Of course I am all right, I was outside when the blasts hit; I am only a little startled, that is all, and I will help you move the rubble.

But why were you carrying weapons? What did you bring them here for?

[solo_patria]

[Did he not know why they had been carrying weapons? What? Enjolras found himself blinking at the dragon, uncertain of the question there.]

Did you not hear of our intentions following the funeral? We mean, all of us across Paris, not only here, to barricade the streets, to stand and fight to bring forth the republic as we did two years ago. And surely now, we cannot lose, not with Lemarque's death, and the cholera...things have only become worse. And now they've shot their cannon through here.

[This was added with a frown.]

It puts some dent in our ability to fight, as I would have our wounded seen to first. Your help in that matter would be welcome. But it is strange.

[And here he is, squinting hard.]

My apologies for saying so, Temeraire, but at the moment, you appear to be a dragon. Perhaps I hit my head a little harder than I thought when the cannon blast came through here.

[dracobin]

[Immediately he assumes the worst. How could he not, after all that has happened in the last few months?

It must have been the workings of Malicant. It must have been like the statues in Kithika--Enjolras must have been transported, somehow, to another time, another place, in his head. Temeraire remembers his own reluctance to believe those around him then, even when they had told him the truth; he must be very careful now, he thinks, so as not to alarm his friend.

At least he knew him by name. It is better than nothing.]

Enjolras, you are not in Paris, at all; you are in Keeliai, and it was not a cannon that destroyed the cafe, but a bomb of some sort. Do you not remember? There is no-one here to fight: at least, not directly.

[He pauses to lever aside a boulder: there are wounded in the cafe, as Enjolras has said, and it would be wrong to ignore their shouts for help.] And I appear to be a dragon, because I am one; that much, I think, is obvous.

[solo_patria]

You...What?

[It does make sense, and, in truth, most of his memories, all of his memories of Temeraire, in fact, involve him as a dragon so that this is, well,somehow no great shock that he has always been one. The idea that this is not Paris and the barricade is however, something of a shock.]

Then you are not. You are still of Les Amis but that is recent to coming here.

[He can reason that much at least, and frowns, as he looks upon the cafe.]

It all seems so familiar, so like the Corinth I had assumed that, well, we were all THERE. And that whatever they put through here...a bomb though?

[Here, he is breaking off, frowning deeply, flinching as a thought comes to him.]

Oh God, the Emperor. But first, our wounded here. I...may slip back again. It happened a little after the...after we were taken, that it was hard to tell where I was.

[So saying, he's now kneeling beside the person Temeraire has pulled the boulder from and checking for a few signs of life.]

Combeferre is here at least. He will be better at this than I am, but...all of us are needed now, I think.

[dracobin]

The Emperor! I had forgotten--

[He looks guilty for a moment: he has not forgotten, after all, that he has sworn to protect Evandau, as he had failed to do for Eshai. But an uncertain expression crosses his face. Even now there is no sign of Combeferre, and with Enjolras's grasp on reality as shaky as it sounds, he knows he cannot leave them here.

Temeraire hesitates, clearly torn, but in matters of crisis, the heart, as ever, wins out over the head. Evandau is a warrior of some repute, is he not? Surely he will be able to hold off an attack for a little while, while he sees to his friends.]

Time is of the essence, [he says firmly, and moves to clear more of the rubble away.] You must tell me if you think you are in France again: at least I might serve as a reminder to the contrary.

[philosophe]

[--And so it does, because Combeferre is staring at Temeraire a little befuddledly. He knows the name, he realizes, and absently moves forward to pat Temeraire's snout reassuringly.]

I am quite fine, we only need to find the others, Temeraire. Are the guard near?

[dracobin]

[Temeraire pushes back gently, half-closing his eyes in relief at the touch. But only for a moment: then he draws his head back, a little baffled.]

What guard? Do you mean the Corps?

[philosophe]

No, the National Guard, they must be -- was that not cannon-fire? I had assumed as much, from the impact and casualties, but I might be mistaken...

[dracobin]

It was a bomb, I think: one went off in the cafe where I was having breakfast, as well, and if there are cannons about I certainly have not seen any.

[He pauses, then adds, in a softer tone of voice:] Are you quite well, Combeferre?

[philosophe]

[He looks briefly confused at that, frowning before taking a moment to stare intently at Temeraire.]

I -- ..[There is a slightly shaky breath, and he nods.] Yes, my dear, I was -- only distracted for a moment, I think.

[dracobin]

[Something in his chest clenches, a little, at the appellation, so familiar and yet oddly strange, all the same, from a source other than his captain.

But that--that is not important, not when Combeferre--when his friends, have been attacked so. His concern only deepens, and he adds in the same tone of voice,] I cannot blame you: the cafe where I was taking breakfast was attacked without warning, as well. But it was not any sort of guard; we do not know who is responsible, not yet.