13771/Atlantean Awakening

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Atlantean Awakening
Date of Scene: 08 January 2023
Location: New York Historical Society and Museum, 'Special Acquisitions' Department
Synopsis: Ariah is brought in to examine a crystal salvaged from some far-flung coastal ruins. Within, a creature long caged is released by accident and a brief scuffle ensues! What is to be the fate of this visitor from the depths?
Cast of Characters: Ariah Olivie, Nerissa




Ariah Olivie has posed:
     One of the stranger subdivisions of the NYC Museum circuit, but sometimes strange things end up getting acquired through off-shore digs, auctioned collections, or archaeological sites. One such strange thing has wound up with a number of individuals taking care in transporting and studying it: A rather large crystal. Opaque. Etched in runes. And so it sits, in the middle of a room, a small smattering of basic wards drawn in chalk on the naked concrete of this basement chamber. And talking with a caretaker as she enters, the personnel now includes a dark-skinned woman of diminutive stature carrying a staff.

    "This is what you have me look at?" the woman asks, her voice thickly accented in French, mismatched eyes focused on the sizable chunk of rock. The caretaker opens his hands and gestures towards it. "It was found in ruins off of the coast of southeast Asia, near an island. Tidal erosion and other world events have... revealed some ruins out there... Being that it was one of the museum's benefactors heading the dig team, well... it was sent here. And New York City is, of course, well renowned in the mystic community for being full of capable individuals.. in case this proves to be something... problematic."

    The small woman looks up at him, blinks, and then starts walking towards the crystal. She's wrapped in a uniform of sorts. A long black and white jacket with silver threading, simple black pants, and knee-high boots. "...and my invitation was because of... the glyphs?" she asks, staying outside of the chalk wards for the moment, gesturing with her staff at the runic writing covering the stone.

Nerissa has posed:
     The massive citrine, about as big as a pony, looks as though someone had taken it in two gigantic hands and twisted everything like clay, causing an odd, corkscrew-like pattern to cover its entirety. Between the miniature ramps, within the grooves, are sloppy and misshapen runes, as if someone had put them there in some form of inebriated state. The erosion due to time and saltwater didn't help things, to be sure. And while most of them were practically illegible or gone, a few remained to tell Ariah their brief story.

    Even though different from the normal runes she's used to, Ariah manages to decipher their general meaning, as one speaks out above all the others:

    Cage.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "Er, yes, the glyphs. Our resident linguistics expert is out due to... new year's related sickness..." the caretaker gives a sigh and a frown. "...so we needed to.. outsource?" he offers. "So, please, if you can decipher what's there. Not that there's much there anymore... we would be in your debt. You'll be paid, of course!"

    Ariah just nods absently, moving closer. She's careful not to step on the chalk outlines, moving closer to see what she can actually read. Or attempt to read. "...this is not an alphabet I am familiar with but there are ... a number of ... symbols common in other patterns that I am familiar with..." she gestures with her staff. "...here... and here... equal points... for... securing?" she frowns a little more, her usual stone-stoic expression turning a little more... concerned.

    "...was this a part of a larger complex? A series of stones like it surrounding something..?" she asks. "...because..." she slowly walks around the crystal. "...by all indications, and patterns, this was either a piece of a larger ... containment construct or..." she purses her lips, brushing her fingers over one of the still-intact runes, warming it with her skin. "...or there is something embedded inside that is meant to be kept there. A... cage?"

Nerissa has posed:
    As she touches the crystal, Ariah can feel the tiniest sliver of her magic being drawn into it, like a drop of water through a needle. A crack splits the Cage rune in two, and she can sense a ripple in the nearby ethereal energies, like the top of a pot has been removed, releasing all the steam and pressure inside. Deep from within the core comes a mighty, heavy heartbeat, slow and deep like a whale's.

    Thump... thump...

    It wobbles once, barely even moving.

    Thump. Thump. Thump, thump.

    The crystal rocks back and forth, like an energetic grandmother in her favorite chair.

    Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump-thump-thump-thump-thump.

    As the beats grow stronger, louder and faster, so too does the shaking. Now the entire thing is vibrating, as if having drunk a gallon of espresso and energy drinks each. More and more cracks appear, covering it in damaging spiderwebs, while wisps of light green magic start to filter through the deeper ones.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Being a conduit for magic that she is, it's ever so easy for the crystal to draw even the tiniest bit of energy from Ariah. She has so much. Like a nigh-endless well in the middle of a desert. Or a lighthouse in the blackest of nights. The effect is immediate, and the small witch frowns. "...get everyone back. Get everyone -out-," she barks at the caretaker and his staff. Feet shuffle, people hurry, and... the rush means someone is inevitably going to scuff the containment wards on the floor. Not that the chalk dust was going to do TOO much, but a token attempt is better than no attempt.

    Ariah for her part steps back, still taking care not to actually damage the circle. Her eyes focus on the cracks as they form and rapidly spread. "And seal off the room from the outside," she states firmly, glaring over her shoulder. The caretaker seems confused. "I don't underst--" he starts. Ariah just fixes that two-colored gaze on him. "It's a containment cell. Get out and -seal the room-!" she growls, voice harsh and cold.

    "Worst case, I am the only one hurt, not your staff," she grunts and focuses on the rapidly degenerating crystal prison before her as people, the caretaker finally included, rush for the exit. At the least, up the stairs is a sturdy metal door.

Nerissa has posed:
    As soon as the caretaker flees the room, the crystal bursts open. Hundreds of chunks, slivers, pebbles and grains explode outward and embed themselves in whatever surface they strike. Which, oddly enough, turned out to be the protective wards. The magical field they produce manages to hold fast for the unexpected demolitions show, various pieces stuck in it like gaudy shrapnel.

    But as the cloud of green smoke starts to thin, the shield flickers, and then fades. The majority of the crystal clatters to the floor, now free from their magical confines, along with one other. A small form hops down from the pedestal, scuffing the diagrams into full uselessness with its wet, green bare feet. It stumbles to its knees and heaves up a glowing liquid from its mouth, which puddles on the floor like toxic ooze. It pants for a few moments before finally looking up, its movements jerky, unsure, and erratic. A pair of pink eyes blink unbelievingly at their surroundings, the head moving from one sight to the next like a squirrel on caffeine, long wet hair slapping the side of its face with each turn.

    Their lips part as a soft, feminine voice croaks out, "Leb es-e-neh dup, duwer-en-top? Lat suldup-e-neh dup?"

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Ariah is thankful that even scuffed, the wards hold. At least, enough for the explosion, though she is, for the moment, protected by her own power. A half-sphere shell of blue-white energy, semi-transparent, shimmers in front of her until the crystal chunks fall to the floor uselessly. The short woman just stands there, staring as the even shorter creature hops out of the ruined containment crystal and then proceeds to simply vomit. The joys of magically-induced torpor? Not that Ariah has ever been subjected to such, thankfully. And judging by the effects on this.. creature... it's not a fun process.

    The white-haired witch continues to stare, and keeps her staff pressed into the floor, the end of it equidistant from the tips of her toes. But she isn't brandishing anything when the creature starts to ask questions, or so it seems like questions? "I'm afraid I do not understand you," she states, voice cold but clear. <Do you know this?> she tries French, <Or perhaps this?> and German, and waits for a response.

Nerissa has posed:
    The woman grits her teeth and stands up to her full height...

    ... which ends up being shorter than even Ariah's...

    ... and spits out the question again, this time with more force, a clipped tone, and a vicious scowl, "Leb es-e-neh dup, duwer-en-top?! Lat suldup-e-neh dup?!"

    Her hands ball into fists at her side as she takes a stance, front half crouched down into a wrestler's position. The woman's eyes, including her whites and pupil, shift from their natural colors to a bright, vibrant red, which leaks out a smoky contrail of magic. From her back, eight similarly-colored tentacles slowly grow and expand, writhing about angrily once fully-formed.

    In the moments it takes for Ariah to watch her, the witch comes to feel something is... off... about this woman. From her years as a field medic, it's easy for her to notice that the breathing is fast, too fast for someone taking such a practiced stance, too fast for someone with that level of training.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    "I do not understand you," Ariah reiterates, shaking her head. She even unwraps a hand from her staff, holding it up in what, to her, is a universal sign for 'hol' up'. But she can clearly read intent. And even if she can't understand the words, that tone is unmistakable. "I am not a threat," she then says, even if the futiilty of words isn't exactly availing her. First contact scenario of some type with a creature clearly imprisoned for a reason, and she's going to spark off some kind of diplomatic incident, she just knows it.

    But that's something for the diplomats to worry about later. She's a soldier. And she sees the aggression rising. Literally. But. Magic. Energy. Power. Her mismatched eyes narrow, too. "...if you persist in this course you will only have yourself to blame for the consequences. And you are severely weakened from your... confinement..." she states, her tone more of a warning one as she takes another step back. Maybe giving the creature her space will help matters more?

Nerissa has posed:
     Seeing Ariah step back, the woman launches a tentacle at her foot, clearly intending to trip her up or even drag her close. Just before it reaches the witch's foot, the woman grunts and winces in pain, the appendage disappearing in a puff of red smoke. With a hiss like a shark's, her eyes dart around the room, looking for something to use. But, upon seeing that the place was void of anything except herself and her opponent, she elects to drive the remaining tentacles into the ground. With a stomp of her foot, the flooring cracks, and her tentacles go taut with the strain as she hefts up a large chunk of tile, concrete and rebar. Her eyes narrow in defiance and pain, a pair of tears running down her face, as the crimson tendrils start to waver and smoke, before they rear back and toss the horse-sized projectile towards its intended target.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    The little witch seems like she's about to either guard against that sudden tentacle strike or counter the attack but she seems a touch surprised when it simply... vanishes and causes the smaller woman pain. "I am not your enemy," she states, remaining defensive as she backs away some more. Not that it seems to be doing anything but agitate the recently-freed deep one even further. Which, in the end, is only getting her slowly but surely backed into a corner.

    "Final warning," she states firmly, staring down the rising chunk of floor that's being leveled towards her--and then hurled. Ariah slams the end of her staff into the floor and a rush of bright magical energy re-forms that shell in front of her. The concrete chunk slams into it, shattering into pieces with the same sound one might expect such a hard piece of solid material to sound as it crashes against a car's windshield. The energy shell crackles, cracks, and spiderwebs but it holds.

    It holds until Ariah consumes it, that is, sweeping the energy into the end of her staff and slamming it into the floor. A shockwave of that blue-white energy surges forward, rising into a wall of concussive force aimed at the freshly-awoken 'visitor'.

Nerissa has posed:
     With a defiant roar the woman launches all of her tentacles at the wall, barely managing to halt its advance. Her feet dig into the floor as she gets pushed back, gouging the tile like a pair of small railroad tracks, and even farther back as a tentacle bubbles, hisses, pops and disappears. After the first, each appendage starts to eventually meet the same fate, one by one, until only the last remains as an ineffective, last-ditch effort against the unstoppable force.

    Barely holding on with what little energy she has left, she manages to take a single step forward, pushing the wall back a few inches. But even as she does her final tentacle flickers in and out of existence, fades into an outline, and then to nothing. With her final act of uncompromising will, she spits at the force, gets slammed back to the far side of the room, and leaves a deep impression on the wall with a thunderous crack. As soon as Ariah dismisses her magic, the woman falls forward onto the floor, leaving a similar indentation.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Normally Ariah wouldn't be pulling out the stops to not actually kill someone, or something, like this. But she knows it's a problem with communication. Feral self defense. Lack of understanding. And while Ariah is a killer, she's not a /murderer/. History and fearmongering and mythos would paint witches and vampires as monsters, but she's something more. Her eyes narrow at the woman as she pulses as much power as she can into that wave of energy.

    As tentacles thunder and smack against it, the surface cracks, chips, and spiderwebs just like the shield had. But Ariah is unrelenting. Her staff is held forward in both hands, the runes along the metal length lit up and blazing bright. The outpouring of power makes her sleeves flutter and draw back, revealing even more similar runes etched in her arms, beneath her skin. "I cannot allow you to tear this place apart," she growls. It's a battle of force, will, and raw magic. But the creature and her tentacles, every smash against the wall happens to drain some energy from those tendrils as well, bolstering the wall further and Ariah by proxy. She's draining them in small amounts.

    Then one final surge as Ariah plants the end of her staff in the floor and centers her stance. The final blast that sends the woman slamming into the wall. As the glow and the magic fade, Ariah's arms are smoking. The staff is nearly white-hot as heat distortions and swirls of magical smoke dance in eddies around it. Ariah can -handle- such an outpouring of energy, but she's not usually pouring so much out at once in a single, focused amount.

    Slowly, she approaches the fallen ... person? Little tendrils of blue-white swirl around her staff, sucking the heat energy from it, slowly drawing back into her arm, recycling and recouping some of that waste as she grips it with her, thankfully insulated, gloved hand. "...who or what... are you..."

Nerissa has posed:
    As she gets closer to the unconscious woman, Ariah notices a particular tang in the air around her. A heavy saltiness, reminiscent of the air at a beach, clings to and drifts up from the sleeping woman, who is quietly snoring away. Upon closer inspection, the witch would find that her opponent's ears are more like fins, and a set of gills rest on either side of her neck. They seem to be functioning properly at the moment, but time will likely be an enemy to their owner if water cannot be obtained, and soon. Combined with the previous fight, the obvious feral fight-or-flight response, and a multitude of other factors only visible to medical practitioners, and this woman is very likely to need emergency care.

    And soon.

Ariah Olivie has posed:
    Those various scents make Ariah wrinkle her nose. But she has just enough medical knowledge to know this is bad. "...this is unexpected..." she states quietly, frowning. Then she hurries back to the sealed door and raps on it. "I am fine. She is unconscious." After a few moments, the door opens, the caretaker blinks. "...she? What happened? The whole building shook!" he stammers. Ariah simply nods and starts back down the stairs. "Bring the largest aquarium tank you can fit down these stairs. Big enough to fit someone my size into. And water." She's already making her way back towards the fallen individual.

    "Medical, too. An EMT and a... aquarium veterinarian. And quickly." She's moving to kneel down next to the unconscious woman, etching the concrete floor with symbols of her own. Stronger wards, something more durable than just chalk lines and glyphs. "I will attempt to contact my own colleagues but this is a race against time."

    The caretaker hurries down the stairs after sending his staff to get the needed things and personnel. "Why in the world do you need all of... that...?" she asks, spotting fin-eared woman for the first time. "...what is that?" he asks, bewildered. Ariah sighs, exasperated, "I do not know. But it will die if we do not take care of it. It attacked me in fear and I would prefer that we communicate with it. Now hurry," she growls at him, causing him to retreat and mutter something about impatient kids today and magical nonsense.

    Ariah shakes her head, staring at the sleeper while she works. She'll have to etch containment runes in the glass tank when it comes, too. Hopefully sturdy glass. But she keeps glancing at the ... visitor. "...who are you and where from do you hail?"