#unscriptededgeofeden2022

-- THE PROMISE OF information and an extra bit of coin is enough to send Monica anywhere, particularly to a place as busy as Issyk. The quiet anticipation of the outpost had left her sick to her stomach in boredom and trepidation, so actually going out there and doing something was enough to dismiss the tension in her shoulders.

“ Ah, finally! “ She spins her arms in a wide arc as she takes a step forward from her companions, head raised to the sky as she dismisses subtly for something aimed more at appearing as normal and carefree as possible. “ Gods, I was absolutely gonna lose it back there. No offense, but interior design, eh... “ She shrugs. “ Not home’s strong suit. “

“ You know, if we spin this the right way, we could make this a girl’s day. Featuring our dearest Chrom, of course, “ she adds, snapping back around with her hands clasped tightly. 

“ Because... uhm, honestly, Emmie, “ she directs the nickname towards Malo, cautious about using the commander’s name right out of the gate, “ I know your typical fits don’t lend themselves well to this sort of thing, but I think picking out some bling might be nice! I always feel better with a little bit of, how to say, new ‘swag’. “ She nods to herself, then to the other two of their party. “ You guys agree, right? Feeling good about oneself is essential to being alive! “

“ And besides, if one’s at a market, they’ve got to buy things! Otherwise, wellllll... “ A small side eye, a shrug. “ It’s lame! “

When Lyn closed her eyes for a brief rest in their inn room, she didn’t quite expect that Sara would be gone when she opened them again. A note on the bedside table vaguely reads: “went out”. A panicked look out the window reveals that it’s still night and dawn has yet to break; a good sign. It means that Sara can’t have gone far.

Lyn laces up her boots and straps Mani Katti at her waist with record speed and flies out the door. Heart pounding, she races down the stairs and out of the inn. The innkeeper is thankfully too busy attending to the party of four hanging around the lobby to pay much mind to a single girl running around wildly.

The empty cage sitting abandoned in the shadows has Lyn fearing the worst, but fortunately, Sara hasn’t gone far, standing only a short distance from the inn.

Lyn sweeps the other girl up in a hug, though she quickly lets go at the sound of jeering coming from one of the outdoor tables. “Mother Earth and Father Sky, I was so afraid something happened, Sara! I don’t what I’d do if you got captured right under my nose!”

The relief rushing through her body washes away the panic, gradually giving way to clarity. Sara isn’t a fool; there’s no way that she doesn’t understand the danger they’re in. For her to wander off...

Lowering her voice to avoid drawing the attention of passersby, Lyn asks, “...Did you hear something?”

“Imperial ships...”

A hushed whisper flows from commander Owain’s lips as the motley crew he’d assembled arrives in Issyk. He can see it, off in the distance, in spite of the darkness surrounding them. His finger is pointed to the mountains, eyes troubled and shoulders heavy. There’s a part of him, deep in the back of his mind, that wonders who or what could be on there. Maybe, just maybe, they would have that thing on them...

“Stay close,” he warns, “we don’t know if they could be crawling around the city. If the need to split up presents itself to you, take a partner and don’t get separated. We’re all to be heroes by the end of this adventure, and I don’t want to lose any of you in the first chapter.” 

The night air is warm and heavy, so much so that sweat forms over Owain’s forehead. Or maybe that’s his nerves, signaling him to be wary of the imperial threat. Whatever the case may be, he rolls up his sleeves and looks to the blinding display of lights in the city. They’re so bright and overwhelming, yet their luminescence barely seems to touch the surrounding terrain. It’s like a void of black swallows what isn’t touched by the city’s lights, and combined with the heat in the air, they almost act as a collective sun for the bustling nightlife.

To make matters worse (or better, depending on who you ask) the crowds of people flocking about are like moths to the lights’ flame. They’re everywhere. They buzz about and obscure the vision of Issyk’s many mercantile buildings. Shops and vendors are hard to truly make out until one walks in close, so Owain resolves within himself to move swift and true.

He begins to push through the crowd, turning his gaze back to his allies every now and then to ensure they haven’t lost anyone. They eventually arrive at a crossroads--facing the space between two buildings. Both look old, dark, and unused, and the alley even more so. If Owain squints hard enough, he can make out the features of a factory and a warehouse. Not of much use, he figures. If they were in Rhedrise though, a factory would’ve certainly caught his eye.

But where to now? They can go through the alley, continue straight through the crowd, head south to change paths--whatever their heart desires, really. Abruptly, Dark stops. He turns to his allies (at least, the ones that decided to stick around this long) and looks at them expectantly. “Hark! A fork lies before us... Knowing it could very well affect our destiny, which path shall we take?” 

poweroverflowing asked:

"Lucina, a moment?"

Footsteps on steel-plated floors echo throughout the base's long halls, marking the approach of the resistance's leader. They ring with authority, something one might not expect from Owain. Really, everything about his air in this world is different. It's serious, almost stern. He's been doing what he can to fill the role he'd been given, and putting on the façade of a leader is a big part of that.

He stops once he fully enters the cargo bay, patting a nearby crate--likely stocked with weapons and ammunition--before making his point. "First of all, it's great to see you here! There are few I'd trust more than you."

When he speaks, however, Lucina can take relief that he's still himself at heart. His voice has that dramatic lilt it's known for, a few decibels louder than normal conversing tones so that he might sound more heroic. "More importantly, I understand you're in charge of weapons. As team leader and chosen one of the rebellion, I have a request--nay, an order--for you."

"When you hand out weapons to the soldiers, make sure to give them cool names! You've surely heard the story by now, but a name imbues an artifact with power. It gives it soul! Our forces would benefit greatly from wielding regal arms like Neva-Miss Beam Blaster or Imperial Cutter of a Thousand Folds!"

Inventory. Routine. Lucina frowns down at a list, names and numbers blurring together. It is signed with her name, a testament to her work in having written it, but trying to remember when she had done so makes her head throb.

Fingers flip open a crate, labeled with 12B-2 in red. Her eyes flit from list to ammunition, counting, frowning when the numbers misalign. The list is forgotten in favor of reaching in to the crate and procuring a container, flipping it every which way in search of a label.

The hard plastic is brought to her nose -- empire made, she knows by the feel alone -- and Lucina squints even harder. An engraving catches her eye, and fingers fumble for that list once more to figure exactly which item she is counting.

A voice startles her, the call of her name shooting her head upwards and nearly sacrificing the objects in her hands as eyes land upon her cousin.

Their leader. Why did it have to be him?

She does not greet him with his name, unsure of exactly which he is using, and instead opts for a curt nod as he makes his approach. Cerulean watches as he brushes the top of a neighboring crate, and then his face as he begins to speak.

Few I'd trust more than you. Her gaze drops, turning instantly back to the task at hand as she listens to his order. It is wholly unsurprising, and a bit of the tension in her shoulders loosens as his speech loses its formality and becomes so familiarly Owain.

"Of course," a glance to him and something like a smile before it returns to the crate. The container in her hand is set back in its place, and silently she counts. Fifty six. Lucina reaches to scribble a check mark beside that name on her list.

@exclted @teneguine @unsungblade @estians @asphuxia @toaedgeofeden

It happens like this in books and stories. The heroes end up in a situation that looks grim and dire. The reader worries what will happen to them and how they could possibly overcome such overwhelmingly bad odds stacked against them. But then, the writer steps in and provides an escape. Something is added to the story that gives them an advantage.

As Est turns into the alley Ethlyn is fleeing, she wonders if this is scripted. It seems too perfectly timed to truly be coincidental but she isn't about to complain. She greets her with a smile but is quick to point out the dangers Est has just stumbled into.

"Those two, with the white hair? They helped me escape. I'd like to do the same for them but I don't think they are going to let us go without a fight."

That last battle sure was something, huh?

Owain was lucky enough to make it out alive, even more so with just a few nicks and scratches. There’s a part of him that feels bad--like he should’ve shouldered more of the pain as the rebellion’s leader. It’s a little disgraceful that some of his troops wound up in critical condition while he got off without a visit to the medical tent, and his reputation is no doubt suffering as a result. But he couldn’t have simply redirected the enemies’ bullets, and so he can at least forgive himself for being in good condition. Sill, what happened to Ethlyn is a tragedy. He helped stabilize her, but there are lingering doubts that she may not be okay. 

That brings us to the here and now: inside Ethlyn’s sleeping quarters. 

The Leonster had been under strict orders to rest and not even think about contributing to the cause until she did so, so Owain takes the liberty of appearing before her on this day. He makes his round when he has a spare moment--something becoming increasingly rare as the fight drags on. After a short walk, he stands just outside the doorframe, making himself visible before entering. No grand entrance, no theatrical surprise. It was life or death for her back there, and he’ll do what he can to treat this situation seriously.

“Ethlyn, I hope you’re alright,” he greets, “things got pretty hectic out there (more than I had hoped) but it’s good to see you drawing breath. Oberon Dark will not have any martyrs in this battle.” Not after the two from his future past--never after the two from his future past.

His voice is stoic and deliberate, but the look he wears is simply glad she’s alive. Dusk-colored eyes are cast to her face and they lift a little, while a smile spreads from cheek to cheek. It all comes together to show his concern for his ally. Many have scrutinized him for fighting selfishly and making poor decisions, but their words will never make Owain care any less for those he stands with. 

He seats himself at the edge of her bed before continuing, “If you’re feeling up to it, there are some things I’d like to speak to you about. Nothing of the concerning ilk, but I figured you ought to be caught up with what’s going on around here.” 

                                                  TEAM EDEN

                                           Ethlyn   Mercedes   Kris (M)                                                                                Est   Sara   Lyn   Lucina   Monica                                                                                 Owain   Robin (M)   Chrom

PROLOGUE [August 1st - August 3rd]

Tag: #UnscriptedEdgeofEden2022

Book Summary:

War has come to the land of Casidea, spurred by the technological ambitions of the once-tiny country of Eskos. Blindsided by the invention of flying machines, its neighboring countries have been all but defenseless against its sudden rise to power. In a short two decades, Eskos has conquered and claimed much of the continent, but the endless hunger for new land and new resources has stretched its empire thin and left little more than scars where kingdoms had been. In the decaying towns and cities of countries prosperous in the not-so-distant past, unrest has begun to give rise to organized rebellion at the risk of prolonging a disastrous war. But nothing of value can be gained without risk, and a dubious lead just may give the rebellion the power to turn the tide…

The cries of the Baroness over the Chimney Sweep’s body melt away into darkness, soon to be joined by dozens more. Screams of panic beneath the distant earthshaking rumbles of what you first believe to be a thunderstorm call your consciousness into a new nightmare, and you find yourself face-to-face with a picture of destruction like nothing you have ever seen before. An entire city, gone, in a single burst of light. You watch the scene play as if in slow-motion from static-streaked screens, which illuminate the blanched faces of a hundred grime-covered strangers with the glow of the surreal.

As panic dims to silent awe, a young woman wearing a mask over the lower half of her face steps forward. “Nine remembered something,” she says, and the rest of the room turns to look at the scarred man standing by her side.

“I know where the Empire keeps that weapon,” he says grimly, and the room erupts with skepticism.

What you know:

The world is a blend of what you’re familiar with (the weapons and architecture found throughout Fódlan) and industrial-powered technology you’ve never seen before. There is a clear divide between the “old world” and the “new world.”

It has been only twenty or so years since Eskos’ rise to power, and the rebellion is only half that age. It’s still small and disorganized.

Kris, Owain, Lucina, and Est are in the rebellion’s central base, where they witnessed the destruction of a nearby city from surveillance cameras.

Owain is the leader of the rebellion. You are now bombarded with information from all sides. Some of your subordinates are telling you that the base’s position has been compromised by a mole and that this attack was a message that the empire knows where the rebellion is hiding now. Many are pointing to NIne, a former imperial soldier taken in by Ro and imprisoned within the rebellion’s dungeons a year ago, while a handful blame it on the capture of Ethlyn some time ago. Others are urging you to act on whatever leads you can get, including Nine’s. The choice, however, is yours.

Kris is a veteran of the rebellion, advisor to the leader, and a source of advice for Ro. You have witnessed the rise of the empire and the rebellion in turn and possess great wisdom often sought by your allies.

Est is a mapmaker for the rebellion. You’re often tasked with infiltrating land occupied by the empire and drawing up routes through bases and checkpoints. You may have seen an abandoned outpost in the desert that could make a new base for the rebellion.

Lucina is a weapons supplier for the rebellion. You have connections with merchants and black market dealers who acquire and sell imperial tech.

Ethlyn, Sara, Robin, and Lyn are in a crowded marketplace just outside of Exusea, the kingdom that was just destroyed - close enough to witness the terrifying power of the empire’s weapon, but far enough away to continue business as usual if you hadn’t been looking out at the horizon.

Ethlyn is a member of the rebellion and Ro’s love interest, but was captured some time ago. You now find yourself locked in a cage with Robin, and a ghostly boy named Elysium.

Robin is a member of the imperial guard, kidnapped and held at ransom some time ago. However, the empire still has not come to find you.

Sara and Lyn are lying low in a tavern, as each possess a power the empire desires.

Mercedes, Chrom, and Monica are in an imperial outpost with Ivaniri Malo, a low-ranking commander for the empire. 

Mercedes is an imperial medic who has worked alongside Malo for many years. However, you have found yourself powerless to do anything of any significance, no matter how much your heart may sway you.

Chrom is a guard assigned to accompany Malo. You have pledged loyalty to the empire first and foremost.

Monica is a mercenary hired by Commander Malo specifically. You had formerly worked for the rebellion, but now your allegiance is to coin.

What to do (suggestions):

You have until 11:59PM EST on August 3rd to make any changes to your inventory.

Follow the Edge of Eden sideblog and check out the cast page. NPCs can be interacted with through this blog or with Tupper in your Discord team channel.

Interact with teammates to establish your roles. Remember, the Projectionist has written you all in as characters of the story.

The noise simmers to a low, fleeting buzz, before eventually fading into nothing; a stillness in the air that calms and draws Eir out from where she had merely been listening. The crowd seemed to have dissipated, fires smothered and stamped out; the wounded being dragged away for loot or barely scraping an escape. A group of receding figures is enough to tell her that they were Ethlyn’s company, but she does not let her gaze linger to know what has become of them. What she has made of them. She turns and strides into the kitchen once more, making use of short time. They would need to leave before the restaurant staff returned, or onlookers began investigating the source of the incendiary.

Deft hands begin their work in earnest as soon as the researcher comes across suitable material, excess burlap weaved into a sack. Padding the insides, Eir packs the two remaining incendiaries inside, sealing it up with twine and fitting the bag upon her back. It was too risky to dispose of them within the building, and more dreadful an idea to simply leave them there for the employees to find— so despite her reservations, she brings the explosives along. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to put them to use too soon. As she exits, she slips a few snacks into the sack; enough for the journey, and none too missed by the kitchen, she hopes. Walking towards Elysium’s corner, she kneels down to meet his eye.

When she asks of his opinion on seeking safety with the empire, only reluctance and a hesitant agreement answer. If it means getting out of the city. Eir bristles. She did not intend to have Elysium escorted out in chains, promised safety or not. Eir raises him slowly from where he sat. A quiet utterance replies, weak, though it comes from the heart: “I will do my best to protect you.”

ROLL: 3. Eir moves from (12, -2) to (9, -2).

They travel in silence, death’s princess as silent as always, the two nearly akin to wraiths. The thinned crowd grants them easy pathways, the masses running in opposite directions in their panic; they move along dark corners, shadows minute but crucial in their aid. Eir does not quite know Issyk, holed up in the research facilities and expansive laboratories within Rhedrise, but she imagines there must be troops of the empire stationed somewhere. And so they continue, moving along steadily— until a familiar face framed by navy stops her dead in her tracks.

“… Lucina?” Eir exhales, relief washing over her in tides. Their acquaintance is not a familiar one; neither the academy or the order of heroes belied the reaction— perhaps this was..? — but she is grateful for it all the same. Elysium hisses in her arms.  

"We were hidden. What are you doing?"  

 “I am trying to get you out of the city,” she replies after a moment, only slightly sheepish. Eir gives their surroundings a pointed glance. “… Safely.” Elysium grumbles about her methods, but doesn’t protest any further. She turns her attention back to Lucina. A moment’s hesitance, then: “... Have you come alone? Is the empire here?”