tushanshu_logs | LANDFALL | TAVIMBI

Entry tags:

LANDFALL | TAVIMBI | MARCH MINGLE LOG

Characters: ALL!
Date: March 1 - 31
Location: City of Hatal, Tavimbi
Situation: Tu Vishan is still anchored just off the coastline of Tavimbi, and the city of Hatal continues to welcome kedan and Foreigners alike.
Warnings/Rating: Add warnings as needed.

( click for full size )
The Tavimbians continue to be welcoming to their guests, and while Foreigners are still required to carry their issued pass stamps while in Hatal, they are starting to become recognized. The stamps are made of a brassy metal, a little larger than a credit card, and inscribed with their information, their date of arrival, and whether they've had any run-ins with the laws in Tavimbi (it will be stamped accordingly by the authorities if such happens.)

OOC: There are starters in the comments for various areas of Hatal, or you can use the rest of the post for anything on Tavimbi which doesn't fit under those headings. All city descriptions, as well as NPC contacts for threading, can be found in the Tavimbi OOC post, which is currently stickied in the OOC comm.

Be sure to also check the March Itinerary for up to date happenings in Hatal, and to tag this entry with your character tag when you join in.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

As much as he lives for the superhero gig, seeing innocent people getting hurt is not a welcome part of it. Adrien had caught the news of the earthquake and quickly transformed, making his way to the Lorn level. It's Chat who lands deftly into the mess of the settlements, frowning at the destruction around him.

He's seen Paris ruined plenty of times, but Ladybug could always put it right. By the time they were done, it was if nothing had happened at all. But she's not here, and he can't fix this. That's not what he does. He doesn't lose his resolve, however, instead focusing on doing what he can without her.

Perhaps some will find him trying to lever rocks twice his size away with his staff, attempting to reach the poor Kin'nal trapped underneath them, offering quiet words of encouragement and the occasional quip to ease their fears. He daren't use Cataclysm here, everything is already too unstable to risk using a one-shot surge of destruction on the place. He'll have to do this the slow and methodical way.

Later, when the rockslides have eased, they will find him helping injured Kin'nal to healers, or digging through the rubble for their meagre possessions buried underneath - giving them even the slightest offering of normalcy. More often than not, he'll just be crouched near them, a hand on their shoulder, speaking quietly and offering whatever comfort he can. This is always his favourite part of the gig. Helping the people afterwards. It's just as important as the heroics in the first place, as far as he's concerned.

"Stop that," Solomon said sharply, hearing the groan of rock and, worse than that, the flicker of lives underneath. Some of them were injured, and that wasn't doing anything to help the stability of their lives, but trying to move the rocks without regard for how the rest might fall would only result in more lost lives.

He'd only just come into the tunnel, but now he came toward the fall, the shadows at his feet sweeping aside debris he couldn't see so he didn't trip. His suit was impeccable, dark in shades of black and green, if covered by a layer of dust.

"You might cause the rocks to fall more," he explained as he crouched, hand on the ground to steady himself and control the shadows. "Let me figure out if you'll set off anything first." The shadows rushed into nooks and crannies, leaving him without one (leaving Adrien without one too). They sorted through the rocks and dust, coating the sides of stone so Solomon could read the dimensions beneath the rubble.

There were already too many dead, and he could feel each and every one.

[ooc: Solomon can see souls, but more in the manner of 'that there is a human/kedan/some alien thing' than being able to read deep inner secrets. basically he can see what their souls look like, but can't tell what individual appearances might mean in terms of personality. if there's anything that might look odd about Adrien, let me know (or whether you'd prefer Sol not catch it, either way!)]

Chat paused in his work, stilling his staff. He was never above taking the advice of others, in fact, he welcomed it. He wasn't used to working alone. He prepared for a quippy response, but then suddenly his shadow vanished and that's just plain too weird not to comment on.

"I hear of cashing away the shadows but that's something else."

He kept his staff still, all the same, leaning his weight on it carefully, to make sure the rock didn't shift while Solomon worked. He had no clue what the guy was doing, above "magic", but that was more than enough.

"What can you...uh see?"

[[OOC: This is so okay with me! Adrien will read as a total human, but Sol shooould be able to read Plagg, who is currently inhabiting his ring and powering his transformation. He's totally allowed to notice there's a tiny sprite-thing there.]]

"I've something of a talent," Solomon said sardonically, but with a quiet smirk. For someone who was used to shock and horror, hearing a dry quip was something of a departure from the norm. He appreciated dry wit, and appreciated more dry wit that didn't result in frivolous condemnation.

"They're deep," Solomon answered, looking straight ahead while he felt out the dimension of the stones underneath. "Six feet and more. There--" He pointed to one side. "--is unstable. We'll have to avoid that corner. Here--" He pointed again, to an area just to his side. "--we can start to move the stones about three feet in. Then I'll have to have another look and see how we can maneuver."

If needed, he could bear the weight of rocks to create a pseudo-tunnel.

Quips were life. They made even the worst of battles bearable. Ladybug didn't always get it, but she didn't need to. He was happy to bear the burden of being The Funny One. Still, even he knew when business needed to be done more than anything else, and nodded, carefully placing his staff down to avoid unsettling the rocks.

"Okay. If you see any large, solid part of it that won't unsettle anything if it... vanished let me know. I can help there."

It was always his last resort, it had to be, but if it got people safe, he would absolutely do it. He started to slowly move the safer rocks, eyebrows furrowed.

"Do you know if they're okay down there?"

"There's two dead," said Solomon with certainty. His brow furrowed as he looked into the rubble; he could see drifts of soulfulness, but no complete souls. Not with the rock in the way. It was enough to tell him people were under there, but not much more. "Otherwise, no. I'd only be able to tell you if more of them died."

Raine was the healer. All Solomon could sense was death, not the stages thereof. At least, not without having a clear view. Belatedly Solomon added, "I'm a necromancer."

Each rock Adrien lifted revealed a pool of shadow underneath; but once the weight was gone they fed more deeply beneath the rubble, probing. "There is a section you should be able to remove, but it's covered. The stones over it would fall, unless you can remove those at the same time."

Solomon pointed in the correct direction, and shadows fed out of the crevices to indicate the dimensions of the exact spot.

"Oh. Those poor people," he filed the necromancer thing away for the future, that was something fay beyond his usual scope of experience.

Something horrible settled in the pit of Chat's stomach. He knew coming into this there would be dead people. This wasn't like back home, where everything had a magical fix. This was something he doubted even Ladybug could make better. Best he could do was just make sure they got to the people who were still alive and try and lessen the bodycount as much as he could. Focus on the job. He nodded, moving towards the space, putting a hand on it, feeling it out. This, he could do, something he could be useful for.

"Okay. I should be able to take it all away. But I can only do it once in one sitting. It's sort of a one-shot deal so let's hope this is the main problem piece we got," he clenched and unclenched his fist for a moment, time to work. "Cataclysm."

At the word, his ring flashed bright green and his right hand suddenly began to swirl with black energy. It quickly spiralled into a solid ball of pure, unfiltered bad luck, tiny dots of it flecking off as Chat's hand moved to press against the formation of rocks. The second the hand made contact, the rocks lost form, crackling into a fine dust, which harmlessly drifted away. The ball of energy vanished, and Chat's hand returned to normal.

"Ta da."

Only do one-- Solomon opened his mouth to stop the boy from moving ahead, but too late. He heard and felt the rumble, and saw the sudden intensity in the boy's soul which spoke of concentration (or determination, or focus, or power).

Bits and pieces of debris slid down and settled in the rising dust, but nothing collapsed, as Solomon had said it wouldn't.

"Congratulations, Mister Agreste," Solomon said dryly (and with perfect accent on the inflections of the name). "You've joined the ranks of reckless, uncommunicative idiots, and we've only spoken twice. It would have been nice to know you could only do it once a day before you did it." There were one or two other solid areas which might have been better applied with that sort of magic--Solomon wouldn't know until they'd shifted more of the rock, and that could be done by hand.

Ah well. No one had been crushed under it, and it did open up part of the tunnel. Solomon rose, brushing dust absently off his customary three-piece suit--worn even in this situation, and stepped carefully up onto the debris, shadows clustering around his feet both to guide him and show him what lay underneath.

For a moment, Chat's panic overides the irritation of being chastised. He's always been the more impulsive of him and Ladybug. She keeps him on the job, without her...well, he realises he's going to have to work on that more. He's still a teenage boy, though, and the comment irks him. He tries not to show it, though. Not now. He inhales, exhales, then tries to keep his tone as flippant as possible.

"Huh? The name's Chat Noir, I don't know who you've got me confused with. I do hear I have one of those faces though."

It's not the best lie, but it'll have to do. His ring BEEP BEEPS and one pawprint vanishes from it. Four minutes. He glances at the tunnels, noting none had collapsed. Good. There was still time.

"And relax, mon ami. I can do it more than once a day, just not more than once in one sitting. I need to take fifteen to power-up again, then I'll be right back at it."

"More than once a day is better," Solomon murmured, his hands out and palms to the ground to read the shadows beneath him. It would have been nice to know that beforehand, as well as what constituted 'a sitting', but every fifteen minutes they'd have the opportunity to use the skill again if they needed it, and could wait the fifteen minutes.

"I wouldn't know about your face," Solomon added, "since I can't see it. But you didn't bother to disguise your voice, Mister Agreste. You may want to fix that, if you intend to keep your skills a secret."

He crouched in the small basin which had given them better access, putting his hand against the ground. "What other abilities do you have? Anything that might help to make a tunnel?"

Solomon might be able to lift the rubble with his shadows, given this opening, but those shadows might be better either protecting the wounded from further cave-ins or dragging them out, if Adrien could move the rock.

He's always managed to get away with the voice thing back home. Mostly because people saw with their eyes and not...however the heck it was Solomon saw. Plus the long he stays on the turtle, the more he realises people back in Paris were kind of oblivious. It's not a comforting thought.

Still, Plagg had laid down the rules, and he's not ready to give up his identity just yet. It may end up being pointless here, but he'll cross that bridge when he comes to it. Maybe he can get away with it for a little while longer. Maybe.

"Maybe I have one of those voices, too."

His ring beeps again, three minutes, and he glances down at the tunnel. He needs to get away, let the transformation drop, but he also wants to stay behind. Help how he can. Solomon clearly knows who he is, and the temptation to stay is strong. To just be. But he can't. He needs to keep these two sides of his separate.

"Uh. I'm about to- change back. Into my secret identity, but once I come back I can use my staff to moves stuff about. It extends pretty far, and it can take a lot of weight. But power-wise? Only the destruction thing."

Solomon had to give the boy credit--most people, when confronted so bluntly, gave up. Adrien didn't. In recognition of that fact, he only said: "As you like, Monsieur Chat Noir. I'll still need a hand--and a set of eyes--so if you can't come back yourself be sure to send someone else."

As he spoke he wore a little amused smile, as though he was in on a joke Adrien hadn't meant to tell. That ought to be plausible deniability enough, in the event someone kept Chat Noir from returning.

Meanwhile, Solomon was going to try and plan out the best means of lifting some of this debris. If Chat could keep it aloft ... no, he wouldn't be able to hold all of it. Though if Solomon could clear some of the rubble from the top--hm.

He rose and, standing in the middle of the little basin, lifted his hands. All the shadows in-between the stone lifted up as tendrils and started plucking rocks off the top, tossing them lightly away from the unstable areas (and away from Adrien, of course), while Solomon directed them with flicks of his fingers.

Adrien was absolutely and terribly stubborn. His father told him as much often, and that he apparently got it from his mother. As such, he held it as a badge of honour, instead of one of shame. Still, it made it no less frustrating for the poor souls who had to deal with it.

"Don't worry, I'll be back before you know it. Just gotta recharge."

He could always come as himself, but that would be too obvious. And so, with one last look at Solomon, he dashes off as his ring's beeping becomes a little more insistent. Luckily he gets to a damage wall before he detransforms, but he'll have to deal with a lecture from Plagg, and then trying to bribe the tetchy Kwami into eating before he can come back.

The life of a magical boy is hard ok.

Not quite far enough. There were other people around, of course, but Solomon's sense of people wasn't especially bounded by walls; he actually had very little idea how far it extended, given the city's density and the fact there was usually always someone in range. (The density was what clouded his ability to tell specifics, more than distance.) So he could still sense Adrien, if somewhat hazily in amidst the others in tunnels around them.

He sensed a shift, and that odd 'attachment' become more distinct in its own right, like it was its own soul. How curious. Too bad the boy wasn't likely to answer if Solomon asked outright. He'd fluster, but he wouldn't answer.

That made the mystery more fun.

By the time Chat Noir--or Adrien--came back, there was a good-sized pile of rocks away from the rubble, and a much reduced pile at the collapse. Solomon had paused and was kneeling with his hand to the debris, reading the empty space between. "We have another block too big to pull out," said Solomon without looking over. "How long before you can use that ability of yours?"

It is honestly the best kind of mystery, though one Adrien couldn't really answer much of even if he wanted to. Plagg has always been frustratingly vague on his nature and history, always changing the conversation to something else (usually food) whenever Adrien tried to bring it up.

Still, he eventually managed to feed Plagg and after much pleading and bargaining managed to get the kwami to allow him to transform again. As such, it was Chat once more who came back to the site, whistling in appreciation at the work Solomon had managed.

"I'm fully charged and ready to go again. Just like that."

He knew Plagg wouldn't like it, but people's lives were at stake so he'd just have to deal with it.

"Show me where and tell me when and we'll be set."

Look at him learning. He made a point of not just rushing into it this time around.

Just like that, Adrien learned some extra brownie points. Solomon appreciated driven young people--less so reckless arrogance. (Arrogance, he was fine with; reckless arrogance, less so, unless the youth was particularly talented.)

From the looks--heh--of things, Adrien was driven and conscientious; a rare combination, and one to be encouraged.

"Excellent," Solomon answered with a faint, actually turning his head toward Adrien's voice this time. "Most of it is under here." He patted the debris under him. "But it connects to a large piece over there." He pointed. "They're discrete units, but they're resting on each other. Could you take them both away at once? If not, we'll need to devise something to keep one from falling in when the other vanishes."

The 'we' is deliberate, a measure to include Adrien in the decision-making, like an equal.

He takes note of the we, and really appreciates it. Ladybug does the same, when most of Paris is happy to see him as her plucky sidekick. It means a lot, to be considered important, in any capacity. He rubs his chin, considering his options.

"If they connect to one another, I can take them both out, but even if there's an inch of separation between them, it'd be a lot riskier."

"There isn't," said Solomon with certainty. "They're resting on each other--their weight is holding each other up. If one was taken away the other would fall, but if you can take away both then we should only have a small ways to dig."

But for that, he needed to move; so Solomon rose and, with one hand extended to send a shadow across the route before him, he stepped away from the little basin he'd created.

"When you're ready, monsieur."

"Then that, I can work with."

And it's helping, which is something. Anything. It's better than standing around feeling helpless. He can do this, at least, and this he will take. He knows he needs to learn better ways of helping people. He can't just superhero his way through everything any more. He waits until Solomon says he's set and channels the power back into his hand.

"CATACLYSM"

His palm swirls with black energy again. He reaches to the area Solomon pointed to and places his hand down on it. The debris cracks, then turns to dust, drifting harmlessly away, as if it was never there at all.

Solomon feels the weight vanish, more because of the sudden absence of shadow than because he could feel anything disappear. He does taste the dust when he inhales, but he'll live on that front. Once he's sure the are is safe he steps forward, shadows skating across the bared ground.

"There's one more layer of debris," he says. "Some further back which will need to be dug out from the side. I'll be faster at digging--we should leave most of them where they are, if we can, until there's a medical team here to move them safely." Some injuries killed precisely because the subject was moved. "You'll have to make sure they're still in a position to be breathing without harming them further until help arrives. Can you do that?"

Chat listens, and nods. His ring gives a little BEEP BEEP, telling him he has five minutes, but he knows he can't run right now, either. Not with people's lives on the line. Besides, it's not like Solomon can see if he turns back, right? Right?

"Yeah, of course. I mean, if that's the best way of getting the least amount of casualties out of this, then I'm all for it."

Sometimes, there are more important things than being able to slip and keep your identity. Even if the thought of staying here, the chance of anyone knowing who he really is, absolutely terrifies him, his priorities are in the right place. People first. Everything else can be dealt with later.

"Good." Now to make sure someone is, in fact, coming. Solomon takes a breath and extends a hand to conjure a dog out of shadows. For this, he has to concentrate; he wants the puppet to last long enough to guide some rescue teams back here, and not take no for an answer.

It's an Irish wolfhound, long-limbed and wiry, fur densely black--especially in shadow. It's as large as its real-life counterpart, nearly a metre tall. It wasn't intentional, but Solomon has magic to spare; necromancy is fed by death, after all, and there's nothing if not death about.

The wolfhound bounds off as soon as it's completely formed, tail still a bit wispy; it seems to form inside the shadows cast around it, like it's gravitating to each one. Solomon takes a moment to make sure it isn't going to dissolve before it reaches someone and then turns toward the debris, aware of its presence pulling at him. That's going to be distracting.

"Someone should be here soon," he says. He hopes. It isn't going to be as easy to move rubble as it was before, and he's aware that the wolfhound has a limited distance and lifespan and no communication skills. It isn't a real dog. (He's never actually tried to send a shadow away from him like that before. He's a bit surprised it worked.

(... Later. Consider it more later.)

Conscious of that pull, and deliberately conjuring fewer shadows than he had before, Solomon raises his hands again to start shifting the last layer of debris off the victims. One by one, their dusty and bloody figures start to show.

Chat stares at the dog, as it is created as it vanishes away, and gives a low, appreciative whistle.

"Cool trick."

The ring gives another insistent BEEP BEEP, but Chat ignores it, instead moving to the debris, helping Solomon move it. He keeps at it, wincing each time the ring beeped, knowing it was getting closer to he point he'd change back. He can't do anything as Adrien, but he can't abandon his post, either.

His ears pick up the sound of people in distance, the "fake" cat ones on top of his head twitching. People were coming. The ring BEEP BEEPS again. Two minutes. He exhales slowly, pushing a piece of debris off the shoulder of someone who is far too still for comfort.

"People are on the way. Three, I think. Pretty sure."

"Thank you."

It's said a little dryly, and that's all Solomon says before moving on. Not about to mention the part where it was a first-timer, after all. Puppets are puppets.

Solomon doesn't speak again until Adrien does, focussed on the shadows and not losing his grip on them. He's vaguely aware of the dog the further it goes, siphons off some magic to keep it shaped, but he isn't paying attention to what it might see, or whether he can borrow those views. Even without a power shortage, there's only so many times he can divide his attention.

"Good," Solomon mutters, a little belatedly, in response. They're working fast for only two people, but it's impossible not to catch Adrien's timer counting down. Obviously, there are limitations to his powers.

He senses the rescuers as they come into the cave--Tavimbians, he thinks; he can usually tell humans and kedan by soul by this point--but they don't really come closer. Balking, maybe. Even here, Solomon is accustomed to some degree of reticence to get close to his magic. With a whip of his hands Solomon sends a few blocks crashing into the pile behind him, and bows sardonically at the entrance.

"Don't be hesitant on my account. Most of them should be unburied enough to move."

Chat is glad for the people showing up, but he's also very aware bystanders can quickly turn into casualties, at least when the danger is still present. That's not really the case here, though, so while he remains a little tense, he does exhale a little, glad for the chance of an out. To get away and change back privately.

"Are you sure? I'm not exactly a lot of help when I'm not transformed, but I wouldn't want to leave you in the lurch."

He's not even going to use the secret identity as an excuse. They both know that's a lie.

(no subject)

peacefullywreathed - 2016-05-22 04:57 (UTC) - Expand

(no subject)

purrns - 2016-05-22 21:24 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

LANDFALL | TAVIMBI | MARCH MINGLE LOG

B (OTA)

no subject

no subject

cheers!

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

feel free to NPC newcomers etc if you like, too

awww yis

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)