meanwhile in ????

[moderni]

WHO: Maxima and whoever shows up
WHERE: Maxima's labyrinth
WHEN: late July
WHAT: Welcoming a very lost Garlean rebel
WARNINGS: Aftermath of war, possible references to civil war and refugees


[This rift leads to a city, or at least what's left of one. Paved streets are torn up, buildings of brick and wood and concrete alike now twisted and wrecked until once-orderly blocks have become a maze of rubble. Remnants of artillery fire are evident in places, and scattered along the streets are wrecked warmachina, armored mechanized weaponry, some independent, some clearly designed to be piloted. All nonfunctional, much of it with evidence of having been scavenged.

The air is bitterly cold. A layer of frost coats nearly everything, and snow drifts softly down from a bleak white sky. What little vegetation has been able to hold on through the conflict is thin and tough, clearly adapted to the frigid climate of the region. Eorzeans will recognize the setting without a shadow of a doubt: this is what was left of Garlemald when the Ilsabard Contingent arrived to aid survivors.

Wandering lost through the ruins is a familiar face. Maxima isn't exactly sure anymore how long he's been out here - even adapted to the climate of his homeland as he is, he's starting to shiver, but he can't seem to find his way back to camp. He tries in vain to trigger the deadened linkpearl in his ear once again.]

Calling Camp Broken Glass. This is Maxima. ...Can anyone hear me?

Comments

[sunforging]

[With the whole rest of the city gone up and down and all around all seven hells, someone had to keep an eye on the day-to-day disasters. Scintilla couldn't honestly say she minded being on the back lines for once; it was actually a welcome change of pace. She could handle a labyrinth or two while everyone else's attention was elsewhere--that was easy.]

[...Or that was what she thought, until she stepped through one such gate and found herself somewhere very cold and very familiar.]

[Byregot's fucking hammer. Whose labyrinth could this have been? She quickly ran through as many immediate possibilities in her head; Jullus, Gaius, Nero, Cid--no, been in Cid's head, that ain't right. Gods, please don't be Zenos. Nobody wants dealin' with that shite today.]

[Pulling her coat a little closer with one hand, the other rested uneasily on the hilt of her rapier as she started walking destroyed streets.]

Oi--anyone out here?

[moderni]

[A voice, thank goodness there was a voice. For a moment he didn't recognize it, and then he did, and relief washed through him. The Warrior of Light was here, he was safe. He wasn't going to freeze to death because he'd stupidly wandered off without the right equipment (how did he end up out here in no more gear than he would have worn at camp, anyway? the memory seemed to have shivered away), Scintilla could help him get back to safety.]

Over here!

[What was she doing back here, anyway? The remnants of Garlemald had settled into a day-to-day routine that doesn't include much adventurer work, and most of the Ilsabard Contingent had returned to warmer lands, Warrior of Light included. Well, he wasn't going to complain, as he rounded a pile of rubble and came face to face with his once-again savior.]

Thank goodness it's you. I...can't seem to find my way back to camp, and my linkpearl has failed...

[sunforging]

Huh-?

[That was miles from her expectation, but certainly not unwelcome. Maxima was trustworthy, and also not a disaster besides. (sorry, Nero.) Stumbling her way through the start of an explanation in her usual heavy Lominsan accent, she lowered her hand from her weapon.]

Aye, that ain't too surprisin', but...uh...well, ain't many easy ways t' explain this. What's the last thing you remember before windin' up out here?

[moderni]

The last thing...?

[He still didn't know how he'd gotten so lost in the ruins. Focus, Maxima.] We've been making progress with setting up trade agreements with Radz-at-Han and Sharlayan. And the Loporrits have been visiting more frequently as well, which caused a bit of a stir at first.

[Direct access to the moon was had through the Tower of Babil, after all, but that didn't make the average Garlean citizen any more prepared to deal with tiny intelligent rabbits, no matter how helpful they were.]

Has something else happened?

[sunforging]

[That lined up with what she knew, so that was a good start. Saved at least a little explaining, and explaining things was not her strong suit.]

Aye--sort of? This is gonna sound right mad, but this ain't Garlemald. Hells, it ain't even the same star.

[hoshikiri]

[Takame had stayed behind to mind the defense of the city. Things seem to have winded down on the frontlines, but he was still vigilant. Especially of any labyrinths that have popped up.

He'd just wished that this one didn't trigger so many bad memories at once in him. The bone-chilling cold, the knowledge of ceruleum under his feet, the infrastructure used in castrums that he spent of his life in and out of while Doma was still occupied by the Empire.

When he fought in their name.

He prayed that was behind him... the last thing Takame needed was for his past to be brought to the forefront of his heart when tension was so high.

But that did not matter. This was a Labyrinth. Someone inside was trapped. Kami forbid it was an enemy... but he would not know until he ventured forward. He did so Gunblade in hand even as he heard half of someone's voice asking if someone can hear.]

Who is there? Are you hurt?

[moderni]

[Immediately he turned toward the voice, making his way around yet another broken armor. It couldn't be...]

Takame?

[But it was, as he managed to catch sight of the Warrior of Light, obviously on edge. And who could blame him, given the man's history? Frankly he was surprised that Takame had returned to Garlemald at all after the crisis had passed.]

I'm not hurt, just...lost. I don't know how I wound up so far from camp.

[hoshikiri]

... Maxima?

[The sight of him made Takame lower his weapon. An ally, thank the kami. And one from the Populares at that. Truly a best case scenario, save only to seeing Cid. Interestingly, in withdrawing his Gunblade it seemed to disappear into thin air. A glamour to the uninitiated, a hammerspace to Takame.]

I see. I'm relieved that you're unharmed. [He paused, looking around them then back to Maxima. These places only get more cruel, don't they? Takame still remembered his own Labyrinth on his worst nights. All of the ones he's been trapped in.]

... I am afraid you're further from camp than you may realize. [He shook his head.] I should explain, but we must find safety first. I can lead you out of this place.

["Out"?]

[moderni]

[There was something increasingly unsettling about this entire situation. Perhaps because Maxima couldn't really remember why he was out in the ruins or how he'd gotten there; perhaps because Takame was there at all. The word 'out' rang ominously in light of these details that didn't add up.

But if he couldn't trust the Warrior of Light, he couldn't trust anyone. He nodded firmly, a little perplexed but determined.]

By all means, lead the way. [If nothing else, he needed to warm up sooner rather than later.]

[illucesco]

[He’d never seen Kaisou in ruins, after the daemon invasion had been turned back. By the time he’d come back to arrange his father’s funeral in December, the city was well on its way to rebuilding. Any signs of ruins were rapidly being cleaned up.

But Noctis remembers Insomnia, how it glittered in the light before he’d left home. He remembers it in ruins, daemons living in the debris of the home he had known and loved. This isn’t Insomnia, isn’t even Lucis—too damn cold for that—but the sight of the ruins stops him in his tracks. He shivers, pulls up the thick coat he’d been wearing to cosplay Rosinante, and calls the Pride Sword to his hand from his Armiger.

It lights up blue and purple, and he raises it up when he spots someone wandering through this ruined town. The sword, in his opinion, does pretty well as a beacon.]

Hey! Hey, you there! Can you see me?

[moderni]

[Maxima lifts his head at the call, and the light is more than unusual enough for him to track toward its source.]

I see you! Hold position, I'll come to you.

[It doesn't take too long before he's making his way close enough that he doesn't need to raise his voice, and looking this newcomer up and down. A Hyur? He doesn't recognize the man from the Ilsabard Contingent, and that isn't exactly a uniform that he's wearing. Some wandering adventurer, perhaps? Just in case, he isn't approaching too close just yet.]

Hello, there. Have you come from the camp?

[illucesco]

[It really isn’t, because he was on his way home from a cosplay convention. It’s a damned lucky thing he’s wearing his selkie pelt like a shawl underneath this giant coat or else he’d be in far more trouble than he is.

Noctis lowers the sword, the point aimed downward. It still glows purple-blue in his hand, easy enough to follow in this cold landscape. He stares at Maxima for a second, the glasses calling up the memory of an old friend, then cracks a tired little smile.]

Not exactly, no. It’s…hard to explain, but where I’m from’s a lot warmer than this. I can lead you there.

[moderni]

[Why would it be hard to explain? ...Maybe this man doesn't trust him, either. He is a pureblood Garlean, after all, and that does mean mistrust from the Eorzean races sometimes. If he's guarding a group of refugees who've somehow managed to stay hidden through the end of the Final Days, it would make sense.

That does mean that it could be a trap, with him out here on his own like this. But the cold will definitely kill him eventually, and while he's far from the most skilled combatant, military training means he could probably hold his own against civilian refugees at least long enough to get away, even if they tried an ambush. ...Besides, if there are people still huddled out in the cold, they need to be told that things have changed, and brought in to safety and resources. He has to at least try.

He nods, and moves to follow.] ...My name is Maxima quo Priscus. I'm with a group that call themselves the Ilsabard Contingent, supplied by the Eorzean nations as a relief effort.

[poisontippedcure]

[The last thing Rose expects when she walks into a labyrinth is to be spit out in Garlemald. "It won't be as bad as the fortress," she tells herself. And it's largely correct, because at least she knows how to deal with the machina here.]

[Part of her is tempted to turn around and go back, lest she encounter someone she doesn't want to. But it could be a friend, and even if it's not, it could still be a civilian. Curse the part of her that's grown this soft, that wants to help people this much.]

[She treks through the snow, shivering, until she comes upon Maxima. She remembers him, vaguely. He was part of the contingent that went with Alphinaud after they freed Ala Mhigo. And probably a few other things, too, but it's too cold to think properly.]

[She waves her arms from a distance, hoping it's enough.]

I can!

[And then, once she's closer:]

Do you happen to remember me?

[moderni]

It would be difficult to forget you, Miss Qeido.

[Kind of a weird question, actually, but. He smiles anyway, relieved at the familiar face. Traveling at the Warrior of Light's side is far safer than making his way alone, certainly.]

I seem to have lost my way. Do you know how to get back to Camp Broken Glass from here?

[poisontippedcure]

Difficult to forget? I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.

[Rose leaves an impression, Warrior of Light or not. It’s good to know that Maxima remembers her, at least.]

[And from what she can tell, he’s happy to see her. She’s happy to see him, too. It’s always good to see a friendly face, especially in the middle of all—-this.]

That’s a complicated question. I can find the way out of here, but we won’t be going to Camp Broken Glass.

[moderni]

As well you should; I would be remiss indeed if I failed to remember someone to whom I owe so much.

[If their paths hadn't crossed, he would never have escaped the Empire's narrow political landscape and learned to live among the Eorzeans. His time in Ala Mhigo taught him things he could never have learned in a decade's study within the Empire's borders; and now he gets to bring that wider awareness back to his people as they try to learn how to be better neighbors.

His mood shifts to concern at the pronouncement that they won't be returning to camp, though.]

Whyever not? Has something happened? ['Again?', he doesn't need to add]

[anyprice]

[ At least the guise that Sampo's chosen today doesn't feel terribly out of place. Sampo's habit of sneaking into other worlds has him sneaking into this labyrinth too when it appears--his own thoughts on it being 'maybe its another gate to another world' and all--and one can never have too many hiding places when the Order was going to literal war with the people in the city.

His current appearance is decided due to the clothing that's very suited to the cold of this place--and yet still, there's a chill to the air that strikes him down to the bone.
Mixed in with how filthy this place was--like a literal war zone itself, Sampo's decided to skirt around looking for valuables, and definitely not for survivors as he keeps mostly to the edges of broken buildings and behind some of those wrecked machina.

He freezes in place as he hears... someone speak, and he's quick to duck behind a broken doorway--and immediately thunking his forehead off a hanging piece of what used to be a doorway, making a rather solid bong sound that echoes more than a little as he hisses between his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on his head. Shit.

Uh. Think fast. Maybe the guy isn't a hostile. ]

U, uh! He, hey!
Is anyone out there, I uh-- [ think quick, ] --I'm not armed, let's just talk, okay? Maybe we can help each other out.

[moderni]

[Maxima jolts alert at the loud sound indicating life in the ruins, reaching for his dagger, and then relaxes slightly at the stammering voice that calls out. Is it possible this is a trap? Of course, always, but it's just as likely that he's encountered a scavenging refugee who's been surviving on his own all this time, and isn't aware yet of the relief forces that have set up in the area. They're finding fewer and fewer new faces these days, but there are still new holdouts being discovered almost every week.

Moving his hand away from the grip of his dagger, he approaches the doorway cautiously, hands visible but ready to dodge in the event of a sudden attack.]

I don't mean you any harm. ...Are you all right? [That impact sounded like it hurt.]

[anyprice]

[ ...ah, a sucker. There's a wash of relief over him as he's met with someone who's helpful instead of opportunistic. This is the best outcome. Time to turn on the charm.
When Maxima comes around the doorway he'll find the tall, messy-haired blonde standing sort of slanted, both hands in the air to show how unarmed he is. The armor he's wearing is definitely suited for the cold, but that sure is one heck of a welt on his forehead. ]

O, oh good. You know, couldn't know for sure, what with some of those machines around outside! Got a guy real spooked, you know? Hahaha... one might pop to life any second!

[ ...not that any would, hopefully, but hey. If he can appeal to this guy's kind side... ]

Just hit my head. Real good knock. I was just--you know. Looking for supplies. Haha.
Are you lost in this mess too?

[moderni]

[Maxima surveys the nearest machina ruefully and shakes his head.]

I doubt any of these will be coming to life anytime soon. Even if they weren't ruined, other scavengers have certainly already drained the fuel tanks.

[That armor is certainly something. The style reminds him of the gear brought along by the Ishgardian soldiers who came along with the relief contingent; it's certainly not a local uniform.

Well, whether he's an adventurer who got caught in the civil war and subsequent apocalypses, or took armor off a soldier's body, it doesn't matter in the least: the Ilsabard Contingent is here to offer aid, not judge what people do in times of desperation and survival.]

As it happens, I'm here with a group offering aid to the survivors. I've gotten a bit turned around in the ruins, but if we can find our way back to camp, I'm sure the healers will be happy to look you over. [The smack to his forehead probably doesn't actually need a healer, but who knows what else this poor fellow has been through, out here on his own.]

[bebest]

[Zulius has been largely keeping clear of all the fighting this month. He isn't the Order's biggest fan at the best of times, so he's been focused on keeping the Vogue as safe a space as he possibly can. He'd been doing a supply run when he sees the labyrinth. He doesn't always go into them but...well, it's been a hell of a month and maybe whoever's in there could use a welcome wagon.

He immediately regrets it when he steps into the cold landscape. His face scrunching up. Ew. He hates winter. But hey! There's a guy. Zulius waves, trotting over. As always, it doesn't occur to him to give a heads-up about the centaur thing. ]

Heeeey there. I don't know about those guys, but I can sure hear you. [He jerks his thumb behind him. ] You wanna come out of the cold, Sweetie? This place is miserable with a capital M!

[moderni]

[There is a THING, half man and half beast, and it is charging toward him.]

Emperor's breath!

[Panicked, Maxima dives for cover behind the nearest piece of rubble that seems large enough to hide him from whatever this is, drawing his dagger and cursing that he's somehow out here without a proper gunblade for self-defense

and then it registers that the thing is speaking sentences and not just growling or muttering gibberish.

Hesitantly, when he doesn't hear sounds like a blasphemous beast created from a soul rotted by despair stomping around or scratching at his hiding place, he peers back around the edge of the slab of concrete and rebar he's using as a shelter, to check on Zulius' current standing.]

[bebest]

[ Zulius has had a multitude of responses to his fabulous self in the past, but no one has ever tried to HIDE from him before. He watches as Maxima hides behind the rubble and pull out his dagger with eyebrows slowly raising. He rests one hand on a front hip, letting out a soft tsk of his tongue. ]

Ruuuuuuude.

[ Then louder, while pointing directly at Maxima with a dramatically waggling finger. ]

Hey? HAY! Yeah, you! I see you! You're right there! You're SUPer not as well hidden as you think you are. Also just QUICK request, can you put the knife away? I'd really prefer it if I wasn't stabbed today if it's all the same to you, I've got stuff to do today and being stabbed would put a crimp in that.

[moderni]

[For a monster, he's certainly more talkative than threatening. Some kind of voidsent? Maxima wouldn't have a way to know; but even voidsent can be negotiated with, as opposed to blasphemies which know nothing but anguish and destruction.

Blasphemies have been known to mutter, on occasion, but never to chatter.

Slowly, he puts the dagger away, and rises to his feet, still keeping behind the rubble in case he needs to duck.]

My...apologies. You startled me. I've never seen a...a person, like you, before.

[He's a diplomatic fellow, but this is straining the bounds of his capacity a bit.]