VIGIL 4: Swordfights!!! on Air

[Deathkeeper]

Reception

Spako shows up after some calls are made, probably. He'd raise an eyebrow if he had any but instead he just asks it, "Yes?"

[Shadowcaller]

Reception

The gargoyle appear to study him for a moment before reaching into its satchel and handing over a flat-looking device. If he accepts it, a tiny illusionary lady Celestel will appear. "Ah, there we are, mister Highclaws, it is nice to see you again."

[Deathkeeper]

Reception

Spako starts and then nods, trying to salvage his dignity. "Right. Hello, Lady Celestel. I imagine you'd like to speak to my superiors about our organizations?" he asks.

[Shadowcaller]

Reception

"Actually, I would like to speak to you, one diplomat to another. You do represent VIGIL after all, don't you? Same way I represent Malechenar." The tiny Celestel replies.

[Deathkeeper]

Reception

"I suppose. What is it you wanted to talk about?" he asks, curious. How odd.

[Shadowcaller]

Reception

"A potential alliance between VIGIL and Malechenar, or at least a closer relationship between our two organizations. Unlike a lot of other organizations, we do actually take the demons who destroyed your last base seriously, and we wish to aid your organization in that struggle." Celestel explains.

[Deathkeeper]

Reception

"Well, that's good. What sort of aid can you offer? I can easily arrange a meeting with the higher-ups to get the specifics that I'm not privvy to. Or at least get that information myself." Spako offers to the holo-lady.

[Shadowcaller]

Reception

"Well, for one, insider information about what is going on in riverside. Secondly, we can set your weapons and base with enchantments by our warlocks, not to mention the other ways we could help you politically. If I'm not mistaken, you have started to getting involved with Riverside lately with the eastside election. Isn't that right?" Celestel asks.

[Deathkeeper]

Reception

"Well, that all sounds pretty good. Though, we hosted the debates and had one of our own as a moderator, but that was it. Miss Mithar specifically avoided the position as moderator because of her well-documented friendship with Miss Jezebel. So we're involved but it's not like we've taken sides." Spako responds coolly.

[Recaiden]

[Debate Night]

"Thank you, all. We're coming up on the end of our time, now. I'm sure each of you have prepared some closing remarks, which I'll give you each time to make, but as you do so, I'd like to also hear from you some thoughts about what this campaign has meant to you, what you've learned, and what you'll take away from the experience, even if you don't win."

Amyria are somewhat caught off-guard by this question, though the facial response never gets past mild surprise.
"You are welcome. I have been glad to speak here. I truly appreciate the interest of the people in the democratic process, and the chance to listen to such unusual viewpoints as we've heard here."
This campaign has been a start revelation about the selfishness of some people, the callous monstrosity of others, and the precarious state of Eastside city, constantly flirting with its own destruction. It has shown the weaknesses of the law and for the first time lit the fire of true hatred in the mayor's mind. It is a mockery of what Eastside stands for.
No, none of that will do to say.

"The city is in your hands."
That's all.

[UncleWolf]

Debate Night

Jezebel takes a silent moment to consider what she's going to say, inwardly thankful for Amyria filling that silence. Even if it sounded like they were some subtle jabs at everyone else. Once she's done speaking, she gives a nod towards the current mayor. "As she states, I am thankful for the chance to speak to so many people at once about the issues they hold dear. Before we go, I would like to once more thank everyone for being here or tuning in for the debate. I'd like to thank the other candidates and thank Vigil itself for hosting this event as well. Without you, any of you, none of this would happen. Even more importantly however is that I learned that the citizens of Eastside take this process even more seriously than I had dared to hope for. The fate of Eastside, of Riverside as a whole, will be decided by you in a short period of time and regardless of whom you vote for I am proud to consider myself among your number and to be a candidate. Thank you."

[Deathkeeper]

Debate Night

Tep gives a small, polite smile to the crowd. Any wider and he'd be baring his fangs at them and that's probably not likely to go over well.
"Yes, it has been a pleasure running in this. I thank everyone for showing up and tuning in. For after all, an informed decision is the greatest thing you can make at times like this. Indeed, we leave this all in the citizens' capable hands. I trust you all to make any of the good decisions open to you." he says, and gives a formal bow to the camera.

[Reinholdt]

[Debate Night]

What is this High School question? What have we all learned this election? This is worse than that morality question. None of Stu's debate preparations had a pre-conceived answer for this and the other candidates' answers weren't helping either. Beyond stalling for the time he needs that is.

Stu clears his non-existent throat. "When I entered this election, I expected it to be a straightforward affair. I mean who doesn't want a piece of the Stu, am I right? But while I'm out there in the streets campaigning, something really unusual occurred. Something extraordinary.

You did. Eastside happened. I met Steven, the baker, who struggles to pay the rent of his shop. I met the florist Stan, who's suffering from a messy custody battle. And there's Stacy, who thinks everything's pretty good right now but is concerned over the bee population. And so many other incredible Eastsiders I couldn't cover them all. The point is I realized that Eastside deserves more than just fat stacks of cash and beautiful people. It deserves an extra stop sign between Spring and King to cover that blind spot right next to the retirement home. It deserves funding for after school gardening programs. It deserves the best. It deserves my best. And that's what I promise to give you. Because I learned I love Eastside like only Eastsiders can.

Eastside made me a better flower, so I want to make Eastside a better city. Remember, vote Stu for YOU! Thank you!"

[Ionbound]

[Commander's Village]

"Huh, can you read my mind then? I can think of a number and you'll guess what it is! I'm not a duelist or anything, but I might still have some secrets!" Anika claims.

Illveria smiles thinly and says, "Sure, why not." Her eyes glow with an amberish light as she reaches out to Anika's mind, multitasking as she answers Wenomir, "I guess that'd work. Still don't want to fight wounded though, especially in the arm. Ask again in a couple days."

[Morty]

[Commander's Village]

"You know where to find me," Wenomir says. He's not sure what to think about Anika willingly letting her brain be read.

[5a Violista]

Spoiler: Quotes

Show

[Northwest Peak]

By the time the onlooker reaches the hill's base, the witch Maria has already prepared another stone. "Be nimble," she commands the stone as she traces shapes on it. "Be quick."

The grey witch looks down into the valley again, preparing to throw it again. Maybe she should adjust her aim, to get closer to that building? Or...she spots the colorful woman who starts to come up the hill. That's a better idea.

She speaks to the stone again, but in a much louder voice this time: "Remember, Jack: fire is the devil's closest friend." Aiming at the approaching woman, she throws it in the same way one would throw a bowling ball. It quickly goes through the same color pattern as the last: dull red, then a dark cherry, then an orange-cherry color, then reaching a salmon hue. As it approaches a lemon color, the stone starts sparking. Everywhere the stone hits has a sudden burst of fire, leaving a broken trail as the stone bounces down.

This trail of fire and its descending stone approaches the bright and colorful woman.

[Northwest Hills]

The woman ascending the hills watches the rock's first fire-flash bounce, and spins around once, clockwise. The wind follows, a sudden gust trying to lift the rock up, aside, and off-course to send it sailing down into the lake. Somewhere nice and cool and not-next-to-her to calm down.

"Watch for falling rocks, is it?" Not the safest flying base, is this? "Alright, double-time!" The wizard rushes up the hill, switching back from rock to path to tuft of hardy mountain grass much faster than she was moving before.
Every time she stops and turns, or hops up onto a moderately large rock, a patch of flowers sprouts up nearby, all in an instant.

She has to say, people who just fly up to a mountaintop are no fair at all.

[Northwest Hills]

Yes, flying people is definitely the worst thing ever. Makes everything so unfair.

Maria frowns. The rock missed.
Again, she looks down at a new rock that's in her hand. She tries again, tracing new geometric patterns on it. "I am lost in thoughts of you, burning desire like fire for you," she tells it as she traces these with her finger. "Inside my veins burning intense, burning red hot with fierce flames. My every cell is calling for you. I am red hot burning for you."

The rock seems to respond to her poetry because it too begins to glow as if it heats up. Like the previous one, she hurls it down the hill toward the wizard. A thick black smoke pours out of it as it bounces down the mountain at her.

...
Then, as it gets nearly to her, the rock bursts into ash. There's no rock left, only ash: the worst it can do is if she accidentally breathes it in.

As she sees that happen, Maria growls. That wasn't supposed to happen. What went wrong? Could've it been the pattern? The incantation? The magic? The feelings? Did she grab the wrong stone? She thought she had picked out the good ones! It could've gone wrong in literally any way! How is she supposed to know how to make sure it doesn't repeat itself?

[Recaiden]

This rock's closer. But it wasn't quite so colorful, and just before the woman can whirl it away, it bursts into ash. For the next moment she's coughing.

"Do you think, perhaps, you could stop throwing explosives down here?"
It couldn't hurt to ask, right?

She's stopped not-so-far-away, and a trail of grasses and the shoots of flowers are sprouting from the mountainside beneath her feet, creeping closer and closer to Maria, each one a little bigger and more verdantly colorful than the last.

[5a Violista]

[Northwest Hills]

Frustrated that the woman has gotten so close, Maria quickly pulls out another three rocks at the same time, and frantically traces shapes onto them. She tries to make sure they have the same geometric design as the previous stone had drawn on it. This way, she can tell if the shape was what was wrong with the explosive.

As she traces on the second of the three, she responds to the request: "Can we stop all the clocks? Can we cut off the telephone? Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone? We can't silence the pianos, nor can we with muffled drum bring out the coffin. Let the mourners come."

That's a colorful response.
It seems to have no effect on the stones. Just as well; she just finished tracing that pattern on the third stone.

[Recaiden]

[Northwest Hills]

The woman tries to make sense of that. It's difficult, seeing poems twisted like that. With no coffin, what are they coming to mourn? With no reason for the explosions, even though they may be full of rhyme, can they stop? Of course as for the wizard, she can stop all the clocks, cut the telephones, silence the pianos and dogs. Make the policemen wear black gloves besides!
But would she? That's a more insightful bit.

"Your stars are not wanted now, put out every one! These lights here are lost in the flutter of a butterfly's wing."
How rude.

Sprouts and stems ring around Maria, quickly hardening into roses with all their wooden thorns. Someone who stayed in place might well become trapped in a prickly thicket.

[Shadowcaller]

[Commander's Village]

Wenomir is obviously not aware of the brilliant pranks you can play against some types of mind readers. Anika just happens to be thinking about something that needs at least three layers of curtains to shield the innocent eyes of the forum from the lewd stuff happening behind them, as Illveria reads her mind. "I was never good at duels personally, not your kind anyway." Well, in a way she is picturing a duel... just not one involving martial mastery. More one of endurance.

[Ionbound]

[Commander's Village]

Illveria's jaw slackens and her face quick turns to a bright crimson, then she shakes her head and the glow in her eyes abruptly cut. She looks at Anika in a way that she hadn't before that moment, and asks, almost timidly, "I-Do-What? Are you always thinking about...That?"

[Shadowcaller]

[Commander's Village]

Anika waves her hand dismissively as if it was no big deal. "Oh yeah, can't stop thinking about it. They call me the 'deer-tamer' back home you know?" Anika lies, pushing her hands together towards her chest. "Why? You want me to fix me up with one of them?"

[Morty]

[Commander's Village]

Wenomir coughs, in a poor attempt at masking his amusement.

[5a Violista]

[Northwest Hills]

It should be noted again that Maria the Exploding Witch, as always, is standing/floating nearly a foot above the ground. It normally ought to be harder for stems and sprouts to reach her feet, as they'd have to rise higher. However, for what appears to be no reason at all, she doesn't move from that spot.

In fact, her mouth opens but she doesn't respond. Instead, she drops the three stones back into her dress's pocket, for some arcane and unknown reason. Her grey brow furrows while she appears to think about...something. But, seriously, she's literally made of ash. Can ash even think about anything other than burning?

Then, she actually starts saying something. Eventually. "There is none left to mourn in the fields. I did not know, wandering on high, that fate had made me for the pleasure of the wind," she recites, "It seemed my god let me flutter from his gentle clasp, but that wing was broken today." Honestly, you shouldn't mind her. It seems like she's just saying things that don't mean anything to anybody. Perhaps she's gone mad?

[Recaiden]

[Northwest Hills]

Well, that will slow them down. Instead of having her nicely tangled, I bet they're only now rising high enough to tickle her ashen feet. But they do keep growing.

Now, the things the mad say often have a meaning to them (if only them). And perhaps ash can remember what it was before it burned. The wizard woman Cleo walks up a few steps along the trail of greenery and looks the witch up and down. Is there any charcoal in her?

"Oh what ails thee, maid of fire, alone and darkly drifting? The hedge unwithered from the lake, and the birds yet sing. Are you kin to these not-stable stones?" Maria seemed to understand the question earlier, but maybe near-nonsense will mean more to her.

[5a Violista]

[Northwest Hills]

Although it would be so easy for Maria to just move out of the grasp of the thorns, she still chooses to not. That alone proves she is not wholly there; at least, she's definitely not perceptive of what's or who's around her. There's clearly no point in listening to her: as an exploding witch, all she desires is fire, death, and explosions. Nothing more. Everything ought to be burned to ash as she is.

However, it can be noted that some of the ash that makes her up is (or was, at one point in time) made from charcoal. Bone black, a lot of it, and some common charcoal from pinewood, among other things. Later crushed and mixed in with everything else, forming almost everything from the cracks in her ashen skin or the wispy grey hair to the burning embers behind her eyes.

In spite of that, she does nothing but respond. "Before the lily could bloom, my anguish was moist and my fervor new. Before becoming the lady in the meads, my step was young and my hair, alight." The glow behind her eyes ignites, and her teeth gnash. It's almost as if she doesn't even notice the plants snaking up her feet. "There we lulled to sleep and there we dreamed but the dark wind did blow." Coincidentally, wind starts to pick up on top of this peak. "It was the last dream I ever dreamt in that cold meadow. Then I saw pale kings, and priests too, pale soldiers were they all. They dreamt of many a woe, with shade and form, and cried 'La Pucelle, Pucelle doré', but it would soon be their withering nightmare."

Clearly, if that isn't evidence that nobody has any idea what she's talking about, then...well, if that can't prove she's mad then there is nothing left to say.

[Recaiden]

[Northwest Hills]

It's true, between that stillness and these horribly mangled poems. Clearly, completely mad. But sometimes the mad are wiser than they know. Can it hurt to listen?

The wizard starts at the wind. It shouldn't do that. But...maybe...it really was a coincidence.
"Witch and demon and coffin worm, and you only one to benightmare the men. But come the morn what are you for? Only for the paint and the pen?"

She draws her sword - a straight untouched expanse of ancient white metal - and levels its point at Maria. It's no coincidence that the wind leaps up and dives for the explosion witch. The thorns and stems won't be happy to let her go though.

"Remember that you were pine wood once. If you stretched out to a cold and unyielding surface of polished glass even your hand what would open its eyes?"

[5a Violista]

[Northwest Hills]

The witch looks at the sword...or rather, just above the sword. I'd say it's because she's seeing something different there, but most likely she just is looking above it for some reason. "What is this crime you are planning? Kill therefore with the sword of wisdom, and we shall sleep among my ashes cold. Afar in cold thin morning air, I'm living for giving the devil his due. Burn out the day: I've seen signs of what these went through."

The rose thorns are digging into her feet, but judging by her reaction to them (or...her lack of reaction regarding it?) she either doesn't care or doesn't feel pain. Or, possibly doesn't notice. One of those three. She does, however, take a breath and nods. "There is a pine tree in ancient story: the everlasting, rooted in heaven. But then its branches fell earthward."

Even staring down here unflinchingly in the face of the bitter steel, she still reaches into her dress's pocket. However, her eyes start to burn as if in anger or betrayal. Who knows which? "All my peace is gone; my heart is troubled. If me unresisting, weaponless, should be slain in battle..." There are four stones clutched in her hand. As she continues speaking, she drops one (which starts rolling down the mountain slope) and shifts one to her left hand. All four of them begin to light up at slightly different rates, starting with the dull red. Her voice seems to reach an angry pleading tone. "It should be better for me I stand here, my doubt dispelled, so batter my heart that I may rise, and stand. Overthrow me, bend your force to break, blow, burn, then make me new." However, as expected, there are no tears on her face: they would dissolve in the ash and burn up, most likely.

It should be noted that Maria is still not resisting yet...just talking or something. While holding three of the four rocks she grabbed. Better stop her now, before she does something drastic. Such as...

The exploding witch bends her left elbow, raising her left hand towards her face. Her eyes burn and greedily stare.
"I have harnessed the stars now unleashed upon the earth. I am death, the mighty destroyer of the world, out to destroy. Burn out the night."
Her mouth remains open as she brings the glowing stone in her left hand towards her teeth.

[Recaiden]

[Northwest Hills]

"Without law, there is no crime. Only wrong or right, and for you I see no reason to put up a fight."
How presumptuous the witch is (might be) being.

And yet, one must be patient with crazy floating ash-witches. They are (might be) people too. Cleo strikes - the sword cuts this way and swings back the other, twisting at the last second, all quick as can be. She's trying to strike the rock out of Maria's hand with the flat of the blade. But the safety of one's teeth and fingertips can never be completely guaranteed.

"It's better that you depart. Take the road not traveled by and time and home you could be. Couldn't you?"
Even so, her patience is fraying. Her eyes don't bother to follow the rock dropped to bounce and roll along the slope below, but it is a worry.
"You cherish the flame, but look the light has yet to die."

[5a Violista]

[Northwest Hills]

The rock that was in Maria's hand is longer in there. Many of her fingers are also cut. A tooth may be chipped as well, but chipped teeth don't particularly feel any different from an injured mouth so there's really no way to tell which happened until later.

The four stones continue their glowing color shift. One of the ones in her hands bursts first, turning into a shower of ash and short-lived sparks.

The dropped one that started to roll down the hill is next. It has rolled some way down the hill away from them already, and explodes. Dirt and rocks and grass are are scattered everywhere, and they arrive shortly after the mild shockwave.

The other in her hand is third. It's very strange, isn't it? How every single stone so far has had different effects. Seriously, how was she expecting to effectively use them? This one spurts small flames, in random directions. It's similar to what would happen if you blew a quick breath into a nearly-empty bottle of rubber cement that was unfortunately lit on fire. There's a burst of heat, but then nothing. Then it happens again, before calming. And so on.

The one forcibly removed from her hand by sword, however, doesn't burn or explode or burst yet. This one passes the yellow-orange color that the others stopped at, approaching a light yellow or even a whitish glow. For some reason it doesn't transfer any heat from convection, but the radiative heat can definitely be felt.


...
Maria doesn't answer. She does, however, sharply bring her hand down. I imagine it hurt.