Winterlands Main Story December Winners PV Closed

Graphic by Leonard Oaksworth

[font=Times New Roman]Interacting With: @Evelynn Decipio
Mentioning: @Scarlett Aden

[font=Times New Roman]Stats/Abilities[/font]
Stamina | 6 | Evasion | 5 | Strength | 8 | Wisdom | 5 | Arcane Power | 5 | Accuracy | 6
Fearless

Indescribable pain was enshrouded by the harrowing panic that had become Marshal's reality. Deprived of virtually all of his regular senses, the building hysteria was all he had, it was all he knew. The chain of events which had led him to this point were lost to him. He didn't know who or what had done this to him, nor the crime he had committed to deserve it.
Nothing made sense; nothing added up. But then, he really didn't need it to. All he needed was for it all to stop. To stop hurting, to stop his fear, to wake him up from this hellish nightmare.
But it wouldn't stop now. Even as he successfully rolled onto his abdomen, he experienced no sensation of triumph, fleeting or otherwise. Instead, he was rewarded only with another wave of pain, which seemed to flood through every nerve in his body. Thankfully, his body had a response ready for that, given in the form of nausea that hit him like a typhoon.

Seemingly provoked by this new wave of suffering, his mind attempted to clear itself, to get some kind of grasp on the situation, and find something - anything - that could improve its perception of his surroundings, and therefore his chances of survival. But there was no reigning in his train of thought, no way to set it back on a track that no longer existed. There was only an indistinguishable fog of deep confusion.
But through that fog, he heard a word. Dirty though that word may be, it was spoken by a voice. Drawn to the nearest presentation of familiarity, his broken mind latched onto it, identifying it as a possible source of refuge and urging him to search for it.
Try as he might, he could not turn his head, restrained as he was. All he could do was swivel his eyes, finding a small crack in whatever bindings enveloped his face and identifying a flash of red. Upon further frenzied inspection, he also saw a face. Considering his current state, the boy failed to put a name to that face, but there was a flash of recognition amidst the panic, streaking through the dense fog like a ray of guiding light. That face meant salvation and protection. It meant safety.

"MMMMPPHH!" Bound though his mouth was, he did all he could to beckon that safety to him, to draw towards the one thing that seemed to promise any kind of support or understanding.
That is, until he spotted the weapon being pointed at him.
In one erratic beat of his frantic heart, he realized that his savior was trying to kill him. All pre-conceived notions of promised protection were overthrown by betrayal as even his one source of solace turned against him, once again leaving him alone in the world, to fend for himself with no real hope of doing so successfully. While he did not recall the name of the weapon aimed at his face, nor the nature by which it attacked, he did know that he was going to do everything in his power to move out of the way.
And so he did. With all the grace and mobility of a worm being dangled on a hook before the eager jaws of a fish, he wiggled, he waggled, and found a rather conveniently placed slope in the ground, allowing him to roll a foot or two to one side.
Perhaps, indeed, this particular sighting of the boy was not one that most ladies would consider overly sexy or appealing, but in that very moment, Marshal did not know what a lady was, let alone care what they thought of him. Let that serve as proof that there is certainly a first for everything.
For once in his young life, romance was overruled by other things that suddenly seemed more important, such as surviving a direct attack upon his broken form, or finding the source of the excruciating pain that followed his descent of that small slope.

Racked with agony, the young Gryffindor had used up the last bit of his energy to escape the wrath of his peer's treachery. He had the ability to inch no farther. If anyone desired to test their aim on a large, dying worm, then they were welcome to have at it.
Moisture dampened the cloth that covered his eyes, but he didn't notice the tears. They were simply all his body had left to offer.
But even still, as his strength failed him, his mind would not surrender. It still had a will to survive, though it saw no path to such an eventuality. His eyes still searched for light. His heart still plead for hope. And even as his mouth was restrained from sharing those desires with the world, the pleas of his heart would not go unanswered.

The answer would be delivered by another voice, this one resonating deeper in his soul than the other. Furthermore, there was something different about this voice. Something that seemed almost as desperate as his own primal thoughts. Something that made him want to reach out once more.
The next thing he could comprehend was a sudden pressure on his face, followed by the sound of something tearing. With that, he was blinded by a sudden light that landed upon his newly exposed eyes. As he squinted against the harsh rays, his savior would see the tears flow freely down his cheek before falling silently to the sparkling snow below.
Marshal could not yet see his rescuer, only felt their determined hands against his bare skin as his mouth was subsequently freed. And then that voice came again; that sweet, quiet voice which offered refuge from the throes of anguish and panic that had consumed him. It said a name. No, she said his name.
A deep, trembling breath was sucked into his lungs, his entire being reveling in the experience of fresh air. Eyes of hazel, finally accustomed to the sun and glistening with moisture, shifted upward to discern the face of his savior.

What he saw could only be described as heaven-sent. Porcelain skin seemingly framed by fire, he recognized the flawless features that lay before him. Eyes the color of an ocean storm gazed down, encasing him in a sanctuary that he only wished he could stay in forever, safe from the pain, protected against whatever had done this to him. Though the cold of the snow seeped into his bones, that concerned gaze instilled a warmth within his breast that he would later see as the life returning to his soul.
Every instinct begged him to reach out, to grasp this line of safety and peace until it pulled him from the depths of darkness that he had dangled within. But still, he could not move. Even now, he wasn't safe.
"E-Ev..." he sputtered, his breath now coming in quick spurts as he fought hyperventilation, his lungs attempting to make up for what had been lost. He could hardly speak. "Please." He saw her turn away. Though the action was only to call for help, he didn't understand. His heart froze, fears returning as her face moved from his sight. "P-please don't leave me!" The cry came as little more than a whisper, but took all of his effort. A softer plea followed. "Please make it stop..."

[font=Times New Roman]Action:
Begging Eve to stay

[font=century gothic]INTERACTING WITH @Marshal Mozor, @Scarlett Aden, @Everly Charlton | MENTIONING n/a[/font]

Nobody moved. Not a one. Her plea for help from those nearby had been met with indifference. Apathy. Hardly anyone seemed to be paying any mind to those few who were in dire need of medical attention. Instead, they'd allowed themselves to bicker and spout conspiracy theories, their focus on all the wrong things. At least for the moment. Who cared why someone was here. It didn't matter if the timing was too coincidental. What was it to her if there might be ulterior motives or a chance that something dark this way did come if they would succumb to loss of blood, or the chilling grip of winter's breath, or the painfully gradual loss of life and limb that came with severe burns. What ifs needed to be cast aside in favour of securing the life of the now.

"Anyone!" Evelynn shouted in exasperation, hoping to grab the attention of even just one other person to help her.

Someone did speak. But it wasn't from any of those whose faces she imploringly searched.

"I'm here." In a second she was by his side again, snow crunching in protest where her knees settled by his ribs. The panic in his face was all too real, and once again she bore witness to the tears flowing freely from white-rimmed eyes. Sympathy tugged painfully at her heartstrings to see him such a state. She couldn't even imagine the physical pain he must be experiencing, nevermind the added fright that came with the absolute helplessness of his state. One of the only things that kept her upright and stepping forward through her days at Hogwarts was the comforting presence of her wand; of the knowledge to defend herself at least in the more precursory of ways. Even if there were few others on whom she could rely, at least she had her own wits and her own capability. But here, bound and broken, weak and weeping, Mozor's life was in the hands of those around him. He couldn't even peer any way but up.

What was worse, those hands didn't seem to know the different between a gentle caress and a suffocating strike. Aden's action had been more than enough to demonstrate that Evelynn had severely over-estimated the competence of her peers. Somehow, by the grace of God, the knockback jinx had missed. Ahead of her earlier scrambling, Evelynn had witnessed the unlikely movement as Mozor had managed miraculously to roll out of the way. But there was no way that mistake would be allowed to be made again. He wasn't leaving her sight now. Choking back the sudden parching of her throat, Evelynn leaned forward until their gazes met and she was certain he could see her.

"I'm here," she said against, clearing her throat when her voice threatened to crack. "I'm not going anywhere. Alright?"

Fingers reached for the torn fabric that now hung loosely to frame a mostly visible countenance. She used it to wipe the tears from his face, buying herself a couple of seconds to try to think. She'd done her first aid course for baby-sitting. Her mother had insisted on it. But she'd never really put it into practice. Not really. ABC, that was all she could really remember. A. He was awake and talking. That was good. B. He was breathing. That was good. A bit too fast, she was pretty sure, but she wasn't sure what to do about that. What she even could do about that. If she even should do anything about that even if she could. And he was already bandaged. If he was bleeding, hopefully it would be dealt with. And hopefully the bandages weren't too tight..

"Do you remember our last session?"

The quick inventory of spells that she could remember in this movement were all but useless, and she was still absolutely certain that leaving him where he lay was the last thing she wanted to do. Thus, there was reasonably only one obvious course of action. One way or another, she needed to get him to that train. She was going to have to do it manually. And it was going to hurt.

"Do you remember our last session before the break?" she asked again, keeping her voice as calm as she could. "The one where we were practicing the Red Sparks Charm?" Her voice wavered just a touch as she pulled back her hands to unzip and shrug off her winter coat. Evidently, it also must have started to rain for she felt moisture begin to trickle slowly down her cheeks.

"You kept getting distracted, trying to tell me a story, but I kept scolding you to stay on topic." She started digging the snow out from under the upper length of him about a third of the way in, just enough that she could slot her coat beneath him, half of it lengthwise bunched up and the half farthest from him smoothed out. Still crouched, she moved around his head to the other side of him. It was convenient, really, that they were on snow. Snow was low-friction. Slippery. Things could slide. "What was it that you were trying to say?"

She wanted him distracted. If he could remember the story, if he could get him mind off of his pain and his fear and onto the recounting of whatever it was that she hadn't wanted to listen to at the time, it would serve him well for what she was about to try to do. His distractibility at the time had been the height of frustration and she hadn't wanted to listen to a word of it. She wanted to hear it now.

As soon as he started talking, she would rest one palm on his shoulder, the other reaching across to grab his far arm and lift it gently across his abdomen so that his palm was on his near hip and beneath her own. Then push. Ideally, if all went well, she'd be able to slide him on the snow and down onto the coat she'd laid out and only a small amount of effort would be needed to pull the crumpled part of the coat underneath the rest of him. Her hood would be pulled up under his head, and the empty sleeves wedged up between his arms and torso so that when sleeves and hood were gripped together, he'd be anchored by the armpits with his head lofted slightly from the ground. It would be a trek and a half trying to drag him across the snow towards the plane-train-limo, but it was the best she could muster in the moment.

Hopefully others would get a clue as to what she was trying to do and help. And whenever Marshal fell silent, she would urge him, "Keep talking, Marshal," sniffing back the tears that pricked painfully at the corner of her eyes in order to force through a smile. "You're going to be okay. Just keep talking."

[font=century gothic]Sta 7 | Eva 10 | Str 2 | Wis 10 | Arc 2 | Acc 10
Keen Eye | Fearless

ACTION: Trying to get Marshal onto her make-shift coat sling thing and drag him towards the limo-train[/font]

Action: Casts slug vomiting spell at Thaddeus

Reducio

I will be honest that I didn't quite follow the mod posts where my character is concerned so I can't imagine where Raine is at where it comes to Hugh. If she is considered too far, I can edit my post. If she isn't, then may the odds be ever in her favor.

Action: casting Expelliarmus at Raine

There was so much going on. Katrina felt more than a little overwhelmed by it all. The train crash, people still getting out of their compartments, hurt people outside of the train, students attacking one another (or one casting something on a completely bandaged other person), the adult, people calling out that the giant limo thing was dangerous and not to go in it, people assumedly already inside the giant wing-less plane. Piérre was alright now, Anastasia and the rest getting him to safety, not that she trusted Anastasia but they clearly already had some sort of past and Katrina was feeling bitter enough to leave.

Katrina strayed from the group now, wondering where Petal and the red head from the compartment before this all happened were. And Calanthe, her dueling partner, had they left her in the train? Katrina surveyed the outside of the train and the plane and saw… black smoke? There was a boy, the one who had banged on the compartment door, that Petal seemed to have a history with, who was abused by the cowboys and seemed to know what as going on. He looked horrible, Katrina hesitated, what if he was already too far gone? Would she even be able to help? Then she saw a man, the one she’d heard earlier who looked like he was trying to help the boy, and another student keeping him away.

Katrina walked up, half debating that at this point she was out of her mind and would do more tackling the really large student out of the way so the man could help the boy. She stopped close to them when the man made a cut on his arm and formed a spear out of his freaking blood?! What in merlin’s bloody beard was that?! Katrina was petrified with fear. She couldn’t just leave, it was a life or death situation. But if she said something, she might anger either the student or the man to attack her. But the boy, the door banging one, he needed help. It was clear the man wanted the students in the plane thing, but why? And did she really want to be in a jet plane with a guy that had whatever sketchy magic she had just seen him use?

What to do?
What to do?
What to do?

The antagonistic boy wanted answers. Then man wanted to help the unconscious boy. The student was using the unconscious boy to get answers. It was too much. Just too much. Katrina didn’t want to be in the way and get the unconscious boy hurt more. She also didn’t want the student hurt. Katrina was too afraid to use any spell in the off chance it hit the wrong target.

That’s when a different person cast the slug vomiting spell at the adult. Another person cast Expelliarmus at the person who cast slug vomiting. The boy holding the unconscious boy turned his back to the spell, trying to take the impact.

Katrina sprinted forward with everything in her now, trying to intercept anything coming at the adult or the unconscious boy. She spread her arms out, trying to grab as much attention as she possibly could. “Would you all just stop and thing for one second?!” Katrina screamed this as loud as she could, her voice breaking, “You’re all acting like idiots! Lives are in danger for Merlin’s sake!” Katrina was shaking now, voice already hurting from screaming so much, “Just help the people who are hurt and get in the stupid plane thing before we all die! I’m sure Mr. Magic Dude over here isn’t planning on hurting or kidnapping a couple dozen students and if that is his plan its not going to work well anyway. So can we just assume for a moment he’s not trying to kill us and try to get back to the castle instead of sacrificing each other?"

TLTR; Be dramatic, throw herself between anything aimed at Hugh, Vlad, or Thaddius, try desperately to calm everyone down probably fruitlessly knowing us

For Moderation:

Reducio

Action: Throw herself in front of any attack to Hugh, Vlad, or Thaddius

Abilities: Perfectionist [Crit-Fail Zone reduced by 1] | Healing Sage [+25% on all magical healing] | Charmer [-1 acc for all opponents]

Stats: Stamina 9 | Evasion 8 | Strength 3 | Wisdom 11 | Arcane Power 9 | Accuracy 5

Interacting With: @Vladimir Athanatos @Thaddeus Athanatos @Hugh Lowe

Mentioning: @Alan Vanes @Calanthe Choi @Anastasia Beckett @Piérre Marchonné @Opelia Winters

Open to Interactions: Sort of? Just like, Kat isn't really going to stop and have a conversation if you know what I mean

Open to Interactions

Starlee watched as Opeila and the other girl entered the Limo Plane. Starlee just stood there, contemplating everything. Should they wait for someone from the school to retrieve them? Or should she hop on the limo-plane as a few others had done? It seemed there was some hostility going on, and people weren't sure to get on it or not. Starlee trusted adults, she felt they knew best after all, and she figured she would probably just hop on the thing. It would be less cold on it too, and she could try to comfort her now obnoxiously hooting owl.

Before she had the chance to even make a decision, she watched as a spat unfolded in front of her. The man who arrived with the limo plane proceeded to make a spear from his own blood. Starlee took a step back in astonishment, not sure what to make of the new strange object - or what the man's intentions were. He was looking more and more hostile by the minute, telling the large student that was holding the limp body of another to just get on the plane, thrusting his spear at the plane. 'Get on the plane? Okie dokie then...'

But then, chaos really broke loose. A girl cast a spell from the plane toward the old man, and others began to try to get in the way, casting spells to prevent further chaos. Starlee just stood there, having no way to try to block a spell, and figuring anything that she even attempted to do would just result in even more chaos. She simply tightened her grip on the owl cage, hugging it close to her chest, and watched.

Action: Standing there in shock watching the chaos unfold.

For Moderation:
Stamina: 4 - Evasion: 5 - Strength: 6 - Wisdom: 8 - Arcane: 6 - Accuracy: 5
Abilities: Healing Sage
Health: 150/400

As Elena clambered out of the train' smoldering wreckage, Flutters shifting himself onto her shoulder which was his favorite position, the brunette surveyed the scene before that looked like a battlefield rather than a simple train carriage that had been transporting innocent school kids on their way to Hogwarts. Shouting voices, injured people and that strange limo-looking vessel which still lay there as those who could walk or still had some amount of physical ability within them trekked thier way towards it. Reality hit her as her eyes scanned the snow realizing the gravity of their situation as she came to a grim conclusion and that was if nothing was done soon, they would be in extremely deep trouble. Elena was not sure how long they'd been out here in the frost-bitten cold weather but she knew extended exposure to it could yield dangerous side effects and that was something she did not wish to explore. Her hands were already red from the cold and shivering as she rubbed them together for warmth.

Among all this, the girl knew that accepting defeat was not an option. She could move, she could talk and that was enough for her to ensure that the others would get to the castle in some way, some manner, some way. Elena had to wonder where on earth the professors were, she was sure they had to know by now that something was up if the Hogwarts Express had not arrived by now. The fact that these men had managed to stop a magical train that the Gryffindor would assume would have some sort of defenses against intruders confirmed in her mind that these were not your ordinary bandits. Most thieves wanted money, hostages, whatever struck their fancy but they had been after the kid's wands which proved in her mind that they were either wizards with dark intentions or just plain foolish. The last thing she remembered before the train had de-railed in a explosive fashion was how the cowboys had been overpowered, a thought she might have even laughed at if their current predicament didn't look so grim and only seemed to be getting worser with every passing second.

A shout of desperation, more obvious and more pleading than the others caught her attention and when she identifed the source, Elena swore her heart shattered into a million pieces. The girl was dragging the boy she had shared a compartment with across this thick snow but it was clear it was no easy task. She had forgotten all about that in her concern for her barn owl which now considerably was more quieter now given the fact the bird wasn't being thrashed about and banged against the metal bars of an cage. She hadn't even gotten the boy's name before their compartment had been turned into something out of hell and the poor guy had an train dropped onto his leg. Now, it looked like he was just clinging onto life with the tips of his fingers and his saviour who clearly was determined on making sure he lived.

If anything else happened, it would be on their hands. She was standing, she was able and while Elena Jangleton was by no means a powerful witch, it was her concern and love for others that was probably her greatest quality even if they were total strangers. "Let's go help them, Flutters." The brunette spoke to her owl quietly as she made her way through the snow as it was clear out of all the injured there, it was the boy who had probably sustained enough injuries to last him a lifetime who needed it the most. The girl was transporting him via some sort of coat that had been fashioned into a sling and it certainly seemed to be doing the job but painstakingly so. Without so much as breathing a word and with an owl still on her shoulder, Elena caught up to the pair a few moments later extending both her arms to assist her fellow house-mate who seemed rather distraught by the whole thing.

Perhaps the two were friends? It certainly seemed like as she remained quiet not trusting herself to speak silently offering her aid. Elena didn't see strangers as she stared down at the stricken boy or when she gazed at the other milling kids who were dealing with their own wounds. She saw people in need of help, people that had done nothing wrong but had been targeted for some nefarious purpose, a thought that angered her almost glancing back down at the boy that was being dragged along with him deciding to pose a few reassuring words to the girl next to her. "He'll be alright. We're here." We, they weren't alone in this. They were a singular house and as such, despite their differences, there was a sort of unspoken rule that was being followed here.

She shot a look behind her to see how much more they had to go. They certainly were getting closer inch by inch and it was only the thought of making sure that everyone got to go home today that motivated her to keep on going despite the chilly climate that ate away at their skin. Her robes were beyond tattered that didn't help things but that was something she could hardly worry about given the fact this boy would die if they didn't help him. "Just a little bit more." She'd offer every couple of seconds or so. Elena wasn't even sure where on earth or why this plane-limo contraption had come here but if help was being offered to them, she wasn't about to pass it up. It was certainly bound to be warmer than out here.

outfit
speech #bf0040
action panicking, apologising, yelling informing thaddeus of marshal's predicament
stats stamina 7 | evasion 6 | accuracy 8 | strength 6 | wisdom 6 | arcane power 9

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@Marshal Mozor @Evelynn Decipio @Katrina Walker @Hugh Lowe @Thaddeus Athanatos

[font=times new roman]S[/font]carlett only realised she was going to kill Marshal after the spell had shot from her wand.

By some miracle, he had squirmed away from the Flipendo she had tried to use as an anaesthetic of sorts, the spell hitting the soft, snow-covered ground instead of the wriggling, mummified boy. Scarlett stared, seemingly paralysed, at what had happened for a few beats, lips parted as if unable to take in what she had done, what she had - thank Merlin - almost done. Panic, fear, all those things that Scarlett shouldn't feel because Scarlett was brave and a Gryffindor but she did feel anyway, settled in. She took a deep shuddering breath, letting her emotions consume her, overtake her for a moment.

She had almost killed someone.

She had almost killed her friend.

But he wouldn't think of her as his friend anymore.

He would think of her as his potential murderer.

Scarlett's hands trembled and her vision blurred - which it shouldn't do because she was Scarlett for Merlin's sake, and Scarlett's hands never trembled and her vision never blurred! - she found herself shaking from head to toe, ever so slightly. Only noticeable to those in close proximity to her. She had nearly killed him, she had nearly killed him, she had nearly killed him. Scarlett stayed there, on her knees, quaking in the snow, unable to move from the sheer horror and shock of her actions.

She knew she was reckless, she knew she was dumb, she knew she was impulsive but she had taken it too far. In fact, the more time she spent near Marshal was more time that she could hurt him in some way. She could - she could accidentally trod on his wrist or trample his leg or something. Something bad was bound to happen whenever she was near people.

She needed to leave.

Wrenching herself out of her stupor, Scarlett staggered to her feet, tuning in to her senses as to not do anything accidental that harmed Marshal. Decipio would take good care of him. Decipio was smart. Decipio was experienced. Decipio knew what to do. The fact consolidated her as her co-captain comforted the injured boy, wracked with wounds. Scarlett had no place there. She had no place with people who were good and kind and competent and intelligent because she was none of those things. She was a sad, snivelling, pathetic girl who had kept up a borderline-arrogant persona for so long, she had forgotten that she was even rash and reckless in the first place.

But Scarlett was not going to focus on her self-esteem issues when someone's life was at stake. She took a deep breath in. She exhaled slowly. Her mind cleared ever so slightly, her shaking halting for a brief lapse of time. Her sight sharpened, after she had wiped her eyes with her sleeves.

There were only two things that Scarlett was good at. Only one would help in this situation.

Talking loudly.

Dusting herself off and plastering on that oh-so-fake show of confidence again, Scarlett ran over to where the adult was, the one who had landed the massive plane and told everyone to get in. A commotion seemed to be going on. A boy [Hugh] was holding the boy who had told them to get off the train earlier [Vladimir]. The get-off-the-train-boy seemed to be unconscious. The older man was saying something that Scarlett couldn't hear. A girl [Raine] was casting a spell at the old guy, but the girl who had exploded the train [Meenauh] was trying to stop her. The first boy [Hugh] was in the way of the other girl's [Raine] spell. The familiar face of Katrina burst in, yelling at everyone.

Scarlett took in the situation. There was obviously a lot of drama going on here, but she would deal with theatrics and minor injuries later. What she needed to do now was inform the old man that Marshal had been run over by a freaking train. Yelling like Katrina, however, seemed to be a bit too much yelling for the situation. And Scarlett didn't want to risk damaging Marshal's eardrums or something.

She stepped to the older man's side. "THERE IS," she boomed, enunciating each individual word. "A BOY WHO HAS BEEN RUN OVER BY A TRAIN. I GET THAT THERE ARE OTHER THINGS TO DEAL WITH AND OTHER INJURIES TO TREAT, BUT ARE ANY OF THEM WORSE THAN A BOY GETTING RUN OVER BY THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS? I THINK NOT. IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THIS BOY ALIVE I SUGGEST YOU ACT FAST AND YOU ACT NOW."

There. She had done it. Suddenly exhausted from speaking - which had never happened before - Scarlett took a step back and sighed, seeming to slump in her standing position.

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