#amscepter2025

Mark awakens outside the mirror in heavy clothes with no pockets. 

There is someone shaking her, trying to wake her, and something in her dimly wonders how they managed to drag her awake. She opens her eyes, and through the blinding light, she sees she is not in her bed with all the lights flipped on, but outside in the grass. The sky is blue overhead, and the young man shaking her was dressed in familiar clothing. 

Home, she thinks, and it forces a shuddered sigh through her lungs. 

Not home, where her family lived, or home, with those that loved and accepted her for who she was, but a kind of home regardless, and that was enough for now. 

Day 3, Morning, Tending Greenhouses drabble--

Another day closer to the end of it all. How very romantic, isn't it?

Andres isn't here, as far as Azama can tell. A shame - of all people who ought to be blowing off steam, the Bishop cannot think of many in any likely greater need. Ah... but, perhaps the man is occupied with plans for this so-called celebration he'd tentatively considered...?

Azama isn't sure whether he'd bet for or against such a shindig actually happening. Not that he doubts Andres wanting to see the young ones smiling, but... Fate is a fickle mistress with her own plans and calendar, and it remains to be seen whether their schedules will align.

With a sigh, bishop drops watering can with a hollow thunk and the slosh of water still leftover. He deserves a break about now, don'tcha think?

What do you mean he's only been here for all of five minutes? Mind your business.

He settles in a quiet corner away from most of the artificial lights. It's a far cry from an optimal napping spot, really, but Azama's made do with worse. So, he settles in, curls in and makes himself cozy, and...

spies something untoward just as he's begun to drift off.

For a moment, he considers leaving it be. Either he can deal with it if he remembers it when he wakes up, or it can be someone else's problem.

He stares at it through squinted eyes, brows furrowed.

He could leave it... Really... He could. . .

He sits bolt upright and scrabbles to his knees, then to a crouch, all the while cursing Andres - because surely, it is his fault for Azama's conscience playing up over flora, of all things.

"You're wilting," he mutters disapprovingly, taking up a leaf of a fern-like plant. Had he overwatered it...? It's hard to say. He doesn't know the garden half as well as he maybe should. Actually though, upon closer look... "Oh! You've caught... something. I see." It isn't just a matter of wilting at all. This, he can maybe do something about.

With a hum, he reaches for the base of the plant and with a light touch, begins to concentrate a flow of rejuvenating energy toward it. Restore. Should he be saving his energies for the upcoming battles ahead? Probably! But this way, he can rest easier.

This way, if he kicks the bucket soon, at least he'll die knowing he was able to save one living thing out here.

(Come to think of it, maybe that's just wishful thinking. Maybe the plant will have died overnight from the suffusion of energy, ho ho!~ ... Azama doesn't plan on checking tomorrow to find out.)

He lays himself back down, satisfied. Times like these, sometimes he wonders if his life is missing something. Maybe it's a bigger world out there than he knows. But... eh. Home is where family is, right?

...

As he drifts off, Azama ponders: if he survives the coming Change,

His gaze flickers away, uncomfortably. 

“It may not mean much, but if we are to cross each other’s paths while investigating separately, I will not raise my hand against you- so long as you do not do so to any of those who came into the mirror with us.”

He lifts his gaze to meet hers, expression serene, “I understand that you are somewhat on edge due to some of my... allies," The word is said hesitantly, as if he does not truly believe it's assignment, "So as I am no student, I don’t mind if you do not return the favor.”

“It’s only fair, as my, ah, former companion did the same to you.”

Pretty Face is the next to give her a visit once discussion has concluded. Although he too wears the color that Sonya has been explicitly cautious about, she refuses to avert her gaze from the man of interest. To hopefully get a better grasp of the guy beyond the “pretty” part.

Sonya’s stare is unwavering, even in the faint moments where he cannot seem to muster the courage to keep eyes interlocked. It’s a curious sight to retain for so long. He approached her. So why does he struggle to speak?

It becomes faintly more and more clear as he further discloses his purpose. Sonya begins to smirk in amusement. He talks of her concern of those he seems associated with, to the point of…wanting no mercy should they cross swords? Does the man find himself to be some sort of martyr?

It’s enough to make a grown woman laugh. But laugh she does not. The mage feels the power behind his words. They are sincere.

“...Sephiran, isss it not?” Sonya repeats in spouting rhetorical questions before continuing. “It’s nice to hear immediate unwillingness from another to hold back in this world. In private, no less. What’s your game?”

At first, it appears as if Sonya does not care for the response, slightly beginning to turn her back on Sephiran in an attempt to leave. But she only starts turning partially, keeping one eye tracked on the man despite the covering of purple hair.

“I could care less of your position as a student in the monastery, let alone position in that place at all. And you misunderstand. I do not intend to fully play into whatever role this mirror has reflected unto me. You have my restrain, for the kids and you both. On one condition.”

With a turn in the opposite direction, the Abyssian reveals her right hand out toward the stranger.

It's always in the night that Sanaki finds herself growing hazy with doubt. She's found it difficult to fall asleep lately---no rest for the wicked, they always say, but perhaps little for the good either.

At a loss, Sanaki allows her feet to guide her through the halls of HQ, quiet in the city's night. The visions of an academy, the dream of writhing cables, the strange and sorrowful way people she's known all her life have been avoiding her gaze---she turns the events of the day over in her mind. Something is coming, this she knows with all her intuition, but at this hour, where she's most honest with herself, Sanaki has to admit that she's not ready.

She's so lost in her thoughts that she almost doesn't notice when a girl, face freshly familiar from last morning's news, passes her in the hallway. "Oh, hello," Sanaki greets. "Mercedes, right? You're up late." The others might doubt her motives, and truth be told, she doesn't yet have Sanaki's trust either, but still... isn't it a good thing that Haven's enemies are seeing the light and willing to join them?

She feels her face soften into a congenial smile. "...I hope Haven has been treating you well."

Mercedes learns quickly after her frankly catastrophic interaction with Janko to keep her head down and her mouth firmly shut. Most at Haven aren't nearly as acrimonious towards her, of course, with the odd kind word or gentle smile from people like Harken. It seems however that most people are content to pretend she isn't even there, sneering at her like a stain on the carpet when forced to acknowledge her presence. It's a little lonely but it doesn't really bother her too much. She isn't here to make them comfortable.

So she spends the evening running errands, dashing from medical bay to store cupboards and back, making herself useful and keeping quiet and out of the way. In a brief reprieve, where she considers heading to R&D to see if anyone needs a hand, a young girl stops her in her tracks.

"Sanaki," Mercedes says, blinking in surprise, though she makes sure to return the younger woman's gentle smile. Everyone in Haven knew her and honestly, so did most of Argent. To say Mercedes is surprised to have caught her attention or been deemed worthy of her time is an understatement. Yet those rich amber eyes, like liquid honey, are some of the sweetest she's seen directed at her in days. "What a pleasure it is. I'm just helping with maintenance and a few other things. I like to keep busy and feel like I'm doing my part."

Then she laughs at her next comment, not bitter but maybe just a touch sadder than she'd like to admit.

"It's been a mixed bag. Aside from a couple of altercations though, most are content to leave me in peace, so I can focus on getting work done at least," Mercedes starts, grimacing slightly as she remembers just how badly some of her previous conversations had gone. The expression doesn't linger on her face too long, however, as she continues. "Oh, but I do appreciate the conversation, Sanaki! A gentleman called Harken has also been very kind to me. I can understand people's mistrust of me too, I'm just glad most people don't seek a confrontation."

…Gods, she’s getting way too invested in this little narrative. She nearly forgot that this is one of the people that embarked on this mission alongside her. It makes her momentarily reconsider her approach…does she speak to him as a fellow “ally” from the church, or an “ally” in this ongoing battle?

“You’re an Argent, right?” Sonya steps forward while deciding her approach. “Haven’t seen one in a good while. Or at least one that doesn’t question all my damn choices without even knowing me. You get me?”

She holds a friendly demeanor in her speech, though her eyes are thin with mischievous wrapping. Meant to portray the message, Just play along.

"Yes ma'am, that I am." As far as he's been led to believe, at any rate. Catlike smile surfaces. Catlike cant of the head follows. "Ah, but is it not human nature to question? One cannot hope to reach enlightenment without indulging in one's curiosity from time to time."

Smile widens.

"That said, one supposes there is a difference between posing questions and then questioning you."

Arms uncross and slide into pockets. "Sonya, was it? I realize now I forgot to introduce myself earlier. I am Azama - but a humble monk... when not in the employ of the church as a professor in matters of theory in faith magicks. Or... when not masquerading as a member of some odd strike force for Argent, either, ohoho~"

It's a stiff bow he offers her, but a bow nevertheless, and as he rises, right hand escapes pocket to proffer a handshake - a seal of acquaintanceship.

"You seem to have a level head about you."

Grin remains.

With a flourish, Sanaki pulls out the cup of Red Bull and presses it into Leonie's hands. "This is a strength tonic that more advanced knights like Leif and Lucio swear by. It has been scientifically proven to sharpen your reflexes and enhance the power of your shots." She smiles, looking directly into Leonie's eyes. "If you find yourself up against a challenging foe, I hope it will be of aid."

Who cares if it's mostly sugar water? Hadn't Sephiran said that belief is power? It certainly couldn't hurt. Sanaki turns to leave before the twinkle in her eyes can reveal her glee, but pauses a moment for dramatic effect. "Try to, ah, keep it off the ground this time."

And then she's gone. Don't say I never did nothing for you, Leonie.

Oh, it’s Sanaki. There’s a wave of guilt that overcomes Leonie as the young mage approaches her. The more days that they’ve spent at Haven, the more Leonie comes to find out how wrong she had been during their initial exchanges. Sanaki didn’t choose to forfeit their mission’s purpose; she’d been a victim of circumstances, fallen to the whims of this strange world. 

“I–” Words catch into Leonie’s throat as her fingers greet the coolness of a can. She grabs it tightly this time, shame dusting her cheeks a light pink. Even despite their hiccups, all Sanaki wanted to do was help her.  

“Thank you.” Leonie tries to match Sanaki’s smile amidst her inner turmoil; she feels so bad that the girl’s been nothing but kind to her. Sanaki’s dealing with her own problems, her own side-effects from this world, if their talk with Summer was an indication of anything. 

“You know, I’m not actually wasteful–!” Leonie calls out, still fumbling over how to make amends, but Sanaki’s already disappeared. Her brows knit up in apprehension as silence greets her once more. She stares down at the tonic, tight in her grip. 

I won’t fail you again, Sanaki. 

(But for now– she needs to find a knife so that she can actually open and drink this thing.) 

　　　 Leonie   Sephiran　Leif　　　 　 　 Alice　Mark (F)　Azama         　  Sanaki   Mercedes　  　　　　　 　　　　　 Nel 　 　　　　　　　　　　　　　Harken　Sonya

WEEK THREE: Fire and Ice DURATION: Until 11:59PM EST on Thursday, August 28 TEAM TAG: #AMScepter2025

A red sun rises.

For some of you, this is a day of anxiety and anticipation, the final deciding day of a struggle you've long fought for. Today, your mettle and that of those around you will be tested and pushed to its limit and then past, to decide the fate of Virato and these long centuries of civilization that mankind has built here.

For some of you, a few of your comrades around you seem more invested into this outcome than you expected. Whether you think them strange for it or not, you can't help but feel it a little bit too. Even if you still hold your mission close at heart, after all, these people you've met are real in some sense of the word, each of them gifted and flawed in the same measure as you. Whether you like it or not, you catch a glimpse of the world and all its potential in them: a mirror reflection held up at an angle, glaring in the sunlight.

And for some of you, you've turned your back on that potential and those people entirely to walk a different path, one straying off the edges of the page. It takes faith to walk into the unknown at such a price, and the woman who never gave you her name asks one more thing of you before you step into the opening she has created: Clepsydra, the architect of the House, is a friend of mine. But now... it's time for them to die... so that the rest of us can go free. Just from me to you, if you find them, this is my request to put an end to them, and to the bounds of this House.

HAVEN.　leonie, sephiran, leif, sanaki, mercedes

what you know.

there was never anyone named harken. you've never heard of or met anyone by that name before

this final standoff against Argent is enormously important, and will decide the future of not only Haven, but of everyone on Virato — Bion and non-Bion, civilians and combatants. so that the peace and safety of today doesn't turn into the tyrannical flames of tomorrow, you must neutralize any Argent threats in your way and make your way to the deepest part of the caverns beneath the no man's land of the Twilight Wastes. watch one another's backs and be ready for anything, because Argent will stop at nothing to bend the world to their will

what to do.

your game board for the week can be found here and your combat doc for the week can be found here. you will need regular access to both in order to play

please read the instructions on the attached doc carefully. read them twice

ARGENT.　alice, mark, azama, nel

what you know.

there was never anyone named sonya. you've never heard of or met anyone by that name before

this final standoff against Haven will decide the future of Argent and everyone it's been fighting for for many years. this is the culmination of your rage, your ennui, your desire for change. in order to see your dreams and those of your loved ones to fruition, you must neutralize any Haven threats in your way and make your way to the deepest part of the caverns beneath the no man's land of the Twilight Wastes. watch one another's backs and be ready for anything, because Haven will stop at nothing to maintain the status quo

azama received a gift privately from olesya the night before. with a firm directive to "stay safe, and look after nel where i can't" as she closed his hand over the handmade capsule. "if we don't see each other before we leave, upload its contents to your System tomorrow. i promise it'll help."

what to do.

your game board for the week can be found here and your combat doc for the week can be found here. you will need regular access to both in order to play

please read the instructions on the attached doc carefully. read them twice

THE IN-BETWEEN.　sonya, harken

what you know.

though the nameless woman opened the way for you with her final request, it doesn't seem like she's followed you through. all at once, you find yourself in endless darkness, where neither the floor nor your surroundings can be seen. there is little to do but walk. but you don't have to for long. soon, things come into view as if your vision is adjusting, though it's impossible to say whether this is the case or that there was simply nothing to see before. now, though: outlines of perimeters around you in the dark. you're not sure what: a cave? walls of a room? something else? but there are edgelines of some shapes far out in the distance. then you grow aware of the subtle give of wood beneath your feet. you're walking on a pier, and beside and beneath you, dark against the dark, is shapeless, running water — a river, vast, stretching so far you cannot see the other bank. or maybe it's out there, but cloaked in the dark. the water seems like half mist, half-fluid ; if you bend down to try to touch it, there is the sensation of coolness, something flowing over your fingers, but they come back up dry

sitting just ahead, at the end of the short pier, is a large ship. and waiting in front of it, a cloaked figure who welcomes you aboard. you cannot see their face or features, and they do not speak when spoken to. what choice do you have but to board?

is this formless realm the house of lampades? or are you simply on your way there? every now and then as the ship sets sail silently, you think you can hear whispers, or maybe it's just the wind, fading away right as you try to concentrate on it

oh, that's something you didn't think you'd find yourself in again — your regular clothes, before you entered that mirror. and all your weapons and equipment too, as if they'd never left your person

it's impossible to say whether it's minutes or hours that have passed when the whispering starts to get louder, and three shapes coalesce on the deck of the ship, drawing closer and closer to you. the hooded figure continues steering the ship, seemingly oblivious — not by helm or wheel, but a long, thin pole in their hands, dipping and lifting out of the river

what to do.

best get rid of these things that appeared first. it doesn't seem like they're here for a chat

if your character reaches 0HP, they are downed

note the terrain effect. feel free to weave it in narratively however you'd like

Yay~!

"Nel, hello!"

He greets her with a small cheers - lifting his flute of... is that champagne? Who knows! in salute. "Fun little party, is it not?" Hopefully Rainy and Benn were smiling lots and enjoying themselves, like Andres had hoped. If not, that'd be kind of awkward, right? Not to mention ungrateful.

"Here. I never actually wanted to keep it anyhow," he does have his own ways of defending himself, after all, "and it'll do better in your hands, I'm sure. I kept thinking you'd come get it back but..."

With a shrug, the weapon she'd lent him is handed back, receiver end first. "You don't have to take my antics so seriously all the time, you know? Dohoho~"

Hmmm...

"Here, hold this. I'm gonna go crash Benn's party, he he he. Ta ta for now - see you out there, hm?"

Handing her his glass, Azama trots over to a different part of the poolside, where Benn is trying to flex some moves on some girl (per his usual) and

CANNONBALL, BAYBEEEEEEE!!

ker-splash.