ENDPLOT | ROLL THE BONES, PART 1

[ironwood]

Characters: ALL!
Date: Early/Mid November
Location: Under the shell
Situation: It's either Malicant or the Foreigners... and their worlds.
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

The Foreigners had begun their counterattack by trying to possess the Great Turtle whom Malicant had taken, and although the movement had failed, some vital information had been uncovered. Under the shell lay Malicant's weakness, and inside the Dreaming was where he could be fought.

Any help from the kedan is uncommon. They're wary, watching, as a group beginning to lose sight of the community. Their family groups are more tightly-knit than ever, and any approach from the Foreigners is answered by suspicion at best and violence at worst. That makes daily life difficult, when the majority of the city refuses to have much to do with them. Why aren't you doing anything? they seem to say. What good are any of you? All you've done is make things worse. We'd be better if you'd never come.

The Foreigners are unwelcome in Keeliai. The cultists are becoming a majority. Now is the time.

There aren't many left of the Foreigners left, but inside the Dreaming the limitations of the waking world no longer exist. For every Foreigner and their worlds, their loved ones, this is the chance to make themselves safe for good. And all of them will be needed.

---

LINKS
Beneath The Shell/Midnight Hotel | Malicant’s Tools/The Vilii Stone | OOC Plot Post

OOC
There are two main headers, one for preparation at the Hotel where Milyn and Eva will be available to speak with The second section where they will be able to search the caves beneath the Shell inside the Dreaming to find the Vilii Stone, and where the boon'd characters will be affected. If you are threading something that doesn't fit one of those categories, just add it to the bottom of the post. Questions go to the plotting post, please! Once the Stone has been acquired the second half of the plot will go live in the logs comm.

Comments

Enjolras was a charming young man, capable of being terrible...[Boon AND Taint possession/OTA]

[solo_patria]

It had potentially been a very stupid idea to actually join the others under the shell, given what had happened with cultists, but Enjolras was fairly sure he would be fine, and he had wanted a chance to face Malicant again, under terms that were much more his own. He had been fine too, as the groups had started out, using his light a little, as they'd started making their way beneath the shell, to act as a sort of guide, when suddenly, things began to change.

He noted it, before it happened, at least a little, the idea that he felt strange, and almost as though he was going to faint if he did not sit down, or stop or...much of anything at all. Things were not exactly going dark, but they were going white if that were possible, and then the light he'd been emitting grew still brighter and he found himself hitting the ground on his knees almost at once, unable to stop the nearly blinding light. At least, at first it was merely only blinding, but shortly after, it started to emit a distinct heat as well, becoming something more akin to energy than simply light.

It would be impossible to say whether or not Enjolras was at all aware of the fact that he was doing this, but soon enough, he was standing, darting ahead of those he was with along the passage, pausing when he reached a much narrower gap, and drawing a foil from a scabbard at his waist. His eyes glinted with something darker, much more fell than he had ever looked before, and his jaw and face were set, determined that none should pass.

"I think no more of you will be coming to help them fight." He jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating the rest of the path. "And why should you at that, my good messieurs? Gentlemen, please. Why would you throw your own lives away?"

[gistful]

Somewhere a long the line Anton had been separated from most of the fellows whom he knew, not quite by design though certainly he had made rounds to ensure there were no others under Malicant's thrall. Anton stopped when the Frenchman blocked his path, keeping his shotgun lowered to the ground. He recalled this man, though not his name, and they had never spoken; but Anton didn't think that the man was anything other than human, which meant Anton would have to be careful not to kill him.

Luckily it seemed the man wished to talk, first. Some would say Anton wasn't the type for inspirational dialogues--but in this case, it was a subject he had lived for quite a while.

"It is no waste to give one's life for the right cause," he said evenly, watching the man carefully in the event he chose to make a move. Anton had a machete, and with the gauntlets and Daisy-the-shotgun, he ought to be prepared enough for a duel.

[solo_patria]

Enjolras was completely human, yes, which, while it might have been easy to harm him, would, at least, make him easier to stop were there a way to do it in here. For the moment, the major problem, more than getting him to stand aside to let the others pass must likely be that light pouring out of him, and once that was dealt with, well, Enjolras was a good fencer, and shifting position to begin with a lunge that went deeper than his height suggested, even as something shifted behind his eyes at the words themselves.

It was no waste at all. Those who did so must be admired, those from the barricades at home, those who had fallen here, or might continue falling. Enjolras knew that wholeheartedly, and it was never something he would disagree with, and he wished to make that clear now.

For a moment, he seemed to pause, something a little different behind his eyes, but with another shift of position, one that it looked like Enjolras was doing his best to fight off, the blade was being raised again, in a clear challenge.

"So you say." He agreed, and this time the words were mechanical, as though they were being forced out, despite being in his own voice. "But are you so certain yours is the right cause? Or might it be mine?" So far, he'd not made actual contact with Anton, just drawn closer, and been prepared to try and drive him off.

"This," His hand shook a little as he twisted the blade in his hand, making it clear that he was talking about SOMETHING going on here. "This is what light can do. It hurts." He added, "It may not harm you by itself, but is the dark not a more appealing, more easily faced option? Come, all of you step away from there. I should not need to harm you, when giving in would be so easy."

What was he? No. This was not right. Enjolras was not sure what WAS right, only that this, whatever was happening to him, from his mechanical lunges, to the words forced out of his mouth, was wrong, and he could not manage to find a way around it. And trying...trying made his head hurt so much that he could barely think. If giving in to Malicant would make it go away, perhaps...

Panicked flashes of the horror cut through into his gaze, and a few moments where he hesitated in his motions, but did not stay long enough to do any real good, not when the body's skills, rote as they were, could still be made to function even as the mind was somewhere else entirely...

[gistful]

The light was blinding; that was unhelpful. Anton had to squint to see the man's face, decided not to try, and focussed on watching his feet instead. He anticipated the lunge but made no move to strike forward himself as long as the Frenchman didn't, because the man's words were more telling than the motions.

From what era did he come? Anton wondered, and perhaps he could guess, and perhaps he would even be near to the mark.

"Light and darkness have their own individual benefits and pains," Anton said quietly, matching the Frenchman's pace to avoid giving him and opening to attack either Anton or whomever might be behind him in the tunnel. "But evil is nothing but a seductive shroud, run on debts and apathy. To fight for the freedom of others--painful though it might be, that is the right cause."

[solo_patria]

Enjolras, himself, the part of him that Was still Enjolras, wanted to blink, himself, or shut his eyes or something. And he was trying for it, obviously straining and, ultimately, failing as it were.

"No." For a moment, the voice was different, the word forced out with an obviously great effort, before things snapped back into other modes, with a hard laugh at the words.

"Do they so?" This time, he spoke with something of a purr in his voice, something new. "Seductive, yes indeed. But are you so decided things are evil now? Have you not simply been pulled into a war, as I have, where only one position has been represented to it? Perhaps things are truly not so simple." He added.

Apathy. Grantaire had been apathetic. Enjolras had never put himself into that place before, and he did not intend to do so now. He needed, he did not know, but SOMETHING, anything, to stop what was coming over him now.

"...assommer..." He managed, the plea for being knocked out hopefully clear enough, despite the frrench in the request there.

There was no opening yet, no. He held his blade and looked for somewhere, anywhere, to begin a distraction, but as things were... "Painful, deadly, for you, deadly for all of them, should you continue. Pray we do not have to fight. There are easier ways. Freedom is illusion is it not? Surely there is something better."

He stepped closer, not to attack, but to asses his target within the sort of distance that would make it possible to strike. But there was something jerky in the movements, and the light dimmed a moment, and then flickered as he stood, looking uncertain. "Fight, but fight for what is smart, my good sir, nothing else."

At least the words were doing something there.

feel free to drop this if it's been too long; i'm so sorry

[gistful]

Anton heard the plea but couldn't oblige; for one, the purely practical fact that he didn't have any particular opening. For another, head injuries were difficult to properly heal and would be a blow to the Frenchman's ability to think, Dreaming or no Dreaming, though it removed him as a threat; Anton didn't consider that an acceptable alternative. It might even make Malicant more able to control him.

Instead he continued to gaze at the man's feet, machete in hand, matching him step for step. "Life is painful, and life is deadly," he said. "To hide from such is a choice in itself, and does nothing to change the circumstance from which that pain arises. Surely you understand this, sir--if I'm not mistaken, you hail from the Revolution."

The words were Malicant's but the way in which the Frenchman spoke was emboldening, full of restrained passion. It wasn't the calming tone of a man who would have tried to talk the masses down--the opposite. This was a man with something to fight for, rather than an indolent aristocrat.

No worries! <3! Any time is good!

[solo_patria]

The topic shift was probably a good way to attempt to begin the process of shifting his thoughts a bit, particularly as the others tried to break through, and Enjolras, in other circumstances, would have expressed how grateful he was. If he remembered this, anyway, he would definitely thank Anton now. As it was, the question itself directed him toward something else indeed.

"Ah, not quite that revolution." He answered, Malicant slipping away a little more, because really, with something Enjolras was so devoted to, there was not much chance of that. "France's first republic was...I do wish I had been there for it though it did not outlast the Corsican called Buonoparte. After, though, a good many of us thought to try again. To raise her back to what she had been in the days of our Grandfathers.

We had our revolutions." Enjolras continued, eyes flashing with something closer to himself than before. "Our first, in 1830, was enough to be called a Revolution, though we did not, in the end, win, we DID send a king fleeing. Our revolution, our republic was stolen..." This was followed with a few inventive curses and commentary about the Marquis de Lafayette that probably ought never be reprinted.

But then. two years later, we tried again. And no, no hiding never..."

He blinked here, hard, looking extremely confused for a long moment, and then somewhat relieved, but then, a glance back to the sword in his hand, and their positions had Enjolras cursing again.

"merde." He muttered, drawing the word out into two syllables. "What was I thinking?"

[gistful]

"You were not," Anton said calmly, lowering his weapons and speaking in French to help cement the man's mind a little more. If he was a revolutionist--as it seemed he must be--then the language may help him solidify his defence against further mental incursion. "But that is not your fault; Malicant is a sly maneuverer. You are quite the orator, sir."

Young, however, if he didn't remember the revolution from 1789 to 1799--or at least didn't consider it the first of revolutions. It was an interesting perspective, and revealed something of what the Frenchman felt about Bonaparte that he didn't consider Bonaparte's rise to leadership a revolution.

[solo_patria]

"Apparently, I was not."

Enjolras appreciated the shift to French, his posture becoming more comfortable already as he gave Anton a very grateful look there. The language where his rhetoric had all been centered could only be useful in whatever lay ahead, although a part of him did hate the idea that he'd already succumbed a little. Then again, best to do that now, and have it done with before they continued further.

And, well, the compliment helped too, truth be told. Enjolras had been 26 when he'd arrived here, and as much as he'd changed, there were still parts of him that appreciated the same things he would have at home. Praise for his words and their effectiveness still drew him in.

"My thanks. It was part of what I worked for, before all of this. Not quite a hero of the convention, and I never wished for that, but to have the same chances they might, to allow for Justice to come through to a world that badly needed it, or to inspire it coming forth. It is good to know I've not quite lost my skills, rusted as they've become."

[gistful]

"You have not," Anton agreed, still in French. "That is likely why Malicant chose to use them." Words could be formidable weapons; Esryn Vanguard had proven that. Pacifist though he'd been, with his words alone he had almost completely undone the morale of those who fought Mevolent for so long. He had been a good man. Misguided, to want peace with Mevolent, because Mevolent would only have used peace as a tool to further his cause; but a good man.

"We should continue," Anton said, nodding down the tunnel. "I have been neither tainted nor booned; Malicant has no hold on me. If you should prefer, I will accompany you in the event he tries again."

[solo_patria]

"You are entirely right." Enjolras winced as he agreed but he did so anyway, he decided, stilling his hands from going to his earring or tugging at it in any way. Right now was not the time for that. "He has done that before, often enough, hasn't he?" After all, look how he had used Asti himself. Compared to him, any foreigner was easy prey, after all. And look at what had happened given the last time several people had faced corruption on a bigger scale, inside that bottle world.

Enjolras had shifted to a version of himself who supported the king and was a National Guard besides, and Temeraire's loyalties had ended up being towards Buonoparte himself, and the entire thing had been small compared to as much effort as must be being extended now.

"I should appreciate that very much, monsieur." Enjolras did not bother trying to look anything but as relieved as he was. He'd been tainted not so long ago, besides. Any help that he could find was help that he could likely use along the way.

[gistful]

"Of course." Anton inclined his head, indicating the Frenchman to go before him, though not so far ahead--Anton himself kept pace alongside and only a half-step behind, so he had an extra moment's grace in the event Malicant took hold of the man again. "I am Anton Shudder. May I know your name, sir?"

Though the name was Latin, Anton's voice still held enough of Irish inflection to tell his own homeland--though much-muddied by his various travels.

[solo_patria]

"Apollon Enjolras, but for all intents and purposes, simply Enjolras." He did turn briefly, to offer a hand in greeting, before they continued, brief as he knew that it must be. "It is too bad that we must meet under these circumstances, but, well. After this, things will be different."

There was a confidence in his voice when he spoke of THAT anyway, much as he feared Malicant's influence again taking over. He did trust it could be stopped and handled now at least. He did smile, as he caught the accent there, along with the name. It seemed that someone else's parents had decided to play fast and loose with typical naming conventions, given that his own was Greek.

end hereabouts?

[gistful]

"Master Enjolras." Anton inclined his head in acknowledgement and accepted the hand as briefly as Enjolras was able to offer it. "Let us ensure they will be so. Change, after all is effected by the choices of men."

Sounds good!

[solo_patria]

"So it is. Let us ensure that ours will bring about the right ones." Enjolras smiled, before turning to go on, feeling much better now that there was someone beside him, anyway.