Oso

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Ezekiel @Helo
Scratch / Val @Apex Sunburn
Callandra @princess

---

The beeping reaches its final breathless moment. One last pulse. One last blink. Then—

White light. Heat. Sound like a god’s scream.

The bomb detonates. Not with fire, but with force. A wave of arcane energy explodes outward, tearing through the cargo hold like a tidal surge of lightning and sound.

Time fractures. Metal screams. Crates are hurled into the air like toys caught in a storm.

Ezekiel, you see it coming but move too slow. The blast hits you squarely, hurling you backwards through a wall of shattered barrels. Your body crashes against the cargo hold’s frame, the impact knocking the breath from your lungs and leaving you sprawled in a heap. But you’re alive, and you’re mostly intact.

Val, you dive behind a stack of crates just in time to dull the worst of it, but you are not fully unscathed. The shockwave tears across your side. You feel something sharp cut into you, but thankfully it doesn’t feel too deep. You hit the ground hard, pain flaring as you clutch your ribs and try to breathe through the sting.

Scratch, your instinct is to protect Vallena, no matter the cost. By the time you turn to act she dives to relative safety and here is no more time to react. But thankfully, you don’t have to.

Because Callandra does.

You feel her grab you just before the explosion hits. She throws herself over you, wrapping her body around yours in a single desperate motion.

Callandra, the blast strikes your back like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It tears into you with unrelenting power. You feel bones crack. You feel something softer, more internal, give way. Your world turns white. You hit the ground like a ragdoll, and then there is nothing but ringing silence and the taste of blood.

Scratch, when the smoke clears, you are not untouched, but you are okay. Callandra, however, does not rise.

And around you, the chaos deepens.

The explosion has shattered more than wood and steel.

At the far end of the hold, the griffon’s cage is mangled, split wide open. You all hear it before you see it ...a shriek, wild and furious, echoing through the haze.

The griffon erupts from the wreckage, wings spread wide. It crashes into a stack of crates, sends barrels flying, talons slashing wildly at anything near. Its eyes are crazed. Its body is all muscle and panic and fury.

And behind it, another danger builds. The hull near the engineering deck is fractured. A jagged breach has formed near the sealed engineering room that houses the bound elemental itself. Sparks crackle from exposed conduit. The floor beneath you trembles.

You can feel it ...the elemental within is stirring. The wards are damaged. The bond is weakening.

Smoke swirls in thick columns now. Fires flicker in the debris. Somewhere behind it all, an alarm begins to wail.

The cargo hold has become a war zone.

And Callandra lies motionless in the rubble.

But that’s not all. You hear something else, something peculiar…

The sound of the very weave of space and time ripping open, and the smell of smoke and brimstone that follows. And in an instant, the silhouettes of 3 humanoid shapes appear in different corners of the room. The thick smoke in the air makes them difficult to make out, but you notice that they each are wearing some kind of red hood.

What do you do?

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Mentions/Interactions: Phia @princess, Meiyu @Tae, Talis @Oso

---

The lights flickered.

Just once.

It was subtle, easy to miss, until the sudden rush of cold air swept through the bathroom like the breath of something ancient. The next heartbeat brought the smell of smoke and brimstone pouring into the room.

Black mist spilled into the space between Phia and Meiyu in a smooth coil, and from within it, in an instant, appeared a woman as though she had always belonged there. Cloaked in shadow and crimson trim, her figure emerged like a painting finishing itself stroke by stroke, deliberate and in no hurry. Her hair was dark as the smoke around her, falling in elegant waves beneath her red hood, and her eyes burned with a cold clarity that had no business looking so calm in such a strange situation.

Her boots clicked gently against the tile. Her lips parted in a smile that was not warm. Not even close.

She stood between them, not looking at either one immediately. Then, slowly, she turned her head, first to Phia, then to Meiyu, giving each a glance that weighed and measured and dismissed them all in the span of a blink.

“You should leave.” Her voice was velvet, low and unhurried, shaped with the poise of someone entirely unconcerned with their presence. “There is a bomb on this ship. Multiple, in fact. The first is going to detonate in…” she glanced upward, as though consulting the ceiling. “Well…any moment now.”

She smiled again, a flash of white framed by shadow. “So if you have anything you care about still aboard this ship, now would be a lovely time to consider your exit.”

Two glints of black metal shimmered into existence in her hands. The obsidian daggers caught the dim light with a ripple like oil on water, curved and elegant and utterly lethal.

She turned her head just enough to glance toward the closed stall door.

“As for me,” she said, twirling one blade slowly between her fingers, “I have a very important meeting with the redhead behind door number one.”

Her eyes never left the door now.

“So unless you would like to be in the way when this gets… interesting, I suggest you run along.”

She took one slow step forward. Just one. Enough to make the air shift again, thick with promise.

“I am not feeling generous today.”

And just like that the snake and the mongoose had met The Devil.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

As you start coming up with some semblance of a plan, you reach for control, for purpose, for anything that makes sense of this moment. Then you hear it. A sound that cuts deeper than steel. Beeping. Precise. Unstoppable. A countdown has begun.

The device is awake now. Not waiting. Not hesitating. It was never meant to be stopped.

The bomb… it was never meant to be defused. There is no miracle. No redemption in wires or cleverness, nor the grace of gods. This was always meant to end one way.

You see it now. You feel it in your chest. The people in this hold were never meant to leave. This was never a rescue. It is a message. A warning. A piece of something far larger, far worse.

And your part in it has already been written.

You have only one choice, and even that has been taken from you.

All you can do is seek cover and hope that Ezekiel's unfinished prayer is enough to save you.

Ezekiel @Helo
Scratch / Vallena @Apex Sunburn
Callandra @princess

I need each of you to please roll me a D20

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Location: The Place of Biological Release
Interaction: @Tae Meiyu @princess Phia

---

Talis paused mid-splash, blinking water from her lashes as Phia stepped closer.

“You’re washing away the sweat of your terror. I hope you are not afraid of me.”

She froze, water still dripping from her fingertips, then let out a laugh that sounded more like a cough and a hiccup colliding.

“No no, not at all, I’m just… you know, terrified of everything else. Entirely unrelated. You’re lovely. It’s fine.”

She grabbed a towel and started dabbing at her face with frantic little pats, as if she could press the fear right out of her pores. Her reflection in the mirror was wild-eyed and red-faced, hair still frizzing from stress and sink humidity. She gave it a tight little smile that said, we’re trying our best.

As she looked over to Phia…for a brief, shining moment, it felt like she could actually breathe again. Phia was odd, yes, but kind. Gentle in a strange, floaty way. Maybe she wasn’t alone in this strange nightmare of an airship. Maybe she could even relax a little.

The click of the door behind them echoed like a thunderclap.

Talis turned, shoulders lifting like they were trying to cover her ears. Her eyes went wide. Her stomach dropped.

The snake woman.

Standing in the doorway like a shadow given purpose. Smiling like the kind of person who complimented your necklace while imagining how to use it as a garrote.

“...Oh, good. I was beginning to feel left out.”

Talis made a sound. Not a word. Just a faint squeak that may or may not have originated in her soul.

“So. What did I miss?”

Talis opened her mouth and something came out, something not entirely chosen by her brain.

“THE BEANS!!!” she blurted, eyes wild. “From this morning. They are… staging a full-scale revolt. It’s a siege situation. Intestinally. I must go. I’m so sorry.”

She turned on her heel and practically dove into the nearest stall, slamming the door behind her with enough force to rattle the coat hook. The lock clicked into place a moment later, followed by the rustle of cloth and a quiet, whispered gasp of pure panic.

She sat on the closed lid, knees tucked up, arms wrapped tight around her satchel as if it might float her away from all of this.

Please go away please go away please go away. Her thoughts spun like a wheel on ice. I cannot die in a bathroom. Not today. Not like this.

She shut her eyes and tightened her grip on the bag.

Maybe if I’m quiet enough they’ll just forget I was ever here.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Mentions/Interactions: Ezekiel @helo

The cargo hold was dim, colder than the decks above. Lanterns flickered in their fixtures, casting long shadows over crates and coiled chains. It was quiet. Too quiet. The only sound was the soft echo of Ezekiel’s boots on metal flooring.

Toward the aft corner, just as she said, two shapes lay curled beneath a blanket. Still. Silent.

One of them shifted ever so slightly.

He moved toward them, each step steady, guided by purpose.

Halfway there, he spoke.

“I lost my family in The Mourning. I do not wish to see another lose theirs.“

She tilted her head slightly at his words, and for a moment, her expression softened.

“Then you understand.”

There was a pause just long enough to feel like it mattered.

“That kind of loss stays in the bones. It never leaves you. It just waits for someone else to carry it.”

Her voice never wavered. But something in her eyes flickered, like a match held a second too long.

“You know…”

She said, still standing in the entrance behind him, her figure framed in the warm light of the fading portal. Her voice was softer now, touched by something that might have been regret.

“I’m about to admit something to you that’s never happened to me before. Not once, in all my years of doing this, have I ever felt bad for being good at my job.”

She stepped into the hold. The golden light from the portal dimmed behind her.

“Not until today. Not until you.”

She walked past him, slow and composed, toward the blanket. She knelt beside it and placed her hand on the edge of the fabric.

“I’m sorry.”

And she pulled it back.

Two passengers lay beneath it, bruised and bloodied, chained at the wrists and ankles. They were alive, breathing shallowly. Between them sat a rounded arcane device, hovering an inch off the floor. It pulsed slowly beneath a translucent field of energy, covered in shifting runes that flickered with unstable power.

Dark tendrils of magic stretched from the bomb, connecting to the metal chains wrapped around them. The implication was immediate. Obvious.

Any movement. Any attempt to break the chains. And it would go off.

Liana looked at him, and for the first time, her mask was gone. Not shattered. Just… set aside.

“You can probably save one of them. If you’re lucky.”

Her eyes met his, steady and unflinching.

“But try to free them both, and all three of you die.”

She took a single step back, letting the briefest pause hang between them…one that showed a hint of regret.

“I’m sorry it had to be a good man. You truly are a dying breed. But this is about something more important than good or evil. Goodbye, Ezekiel.”

Black smoke bloomed at her feet. Her body dissolved into shadow and vanished in a silent burst of arcane vapor.

The portal collapsed behind them with a dull thud, sealing the hold in silence once more.

And Ezekiel was left standing between the weight of two lives… and one impossible choice.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Location: The Bathroom
Interaction: @Tae Meiyu @princess Phia

---

Talis didn’t so much walk down the hallway as she evaporated into it,shoulders hunched, satchel hugged to her chest like a lifeline, her boots making rapid little clacks that only got faster the more her brain replayed all those horrible questions.

Her thoughts bounced like trapped fireflies, Meiyu's voice haunting her even as she had seemingly escaped her.

So, little sparrow… what’s in the bag?

Feeling a rise of anxiety, she turned and—a pink-haired elf was charging at her..

Talis shrieked then slapped a hand to her chest, her eyes wide.

“Wait!”

Talis flinched so hard she smacked her shoulder against the wall. She wheezed, hand over her heart as Phia trotted up like a deer wearing a smile and a warning sign all at once.

“I have decided to follow you!”

Talis blinked. Once. Twice.

“...Oh.”

“But do not be alarmed—I am not a vicious predator.”

“That’s… great news.” Talis’s voice was high, tight, and only getting higher.

“I simply wish to find the place of biological release. And perhaps, learn its secrets.”

Talis opened her mouth. Closed it. “You’re...here. That’s…great. That’s so great,” Talis said, her voice climbing an octave like it was trying to escape the conversation altogether.

After another beat, Talis asked nervously, “Um, so, are you planning to interview the bathroom?” Her voice cracked like a brittle biscuit, her eyes twitching slightly as if even asking had taken psychic damage. She shook her head quickly, as if trying to reset her entire existence. “Never mind. Um, we can... go. Together. As… one.”

She turned on her heel, too quickly and nearly spun into the wall again before catching herself. “It’s just right here, actually,” she added hastily, pointing with the stiff enthusiasm of someone giving a tour in hell. “See? Door. Handle. Architecture.” She stepped forward, reached for the latch, and pulled the door open like a magician unveiling her final trick.

The door creaked open with a reluctant groan. Inside: the legendary chamber of relief.

With an exaggerated flourish, Talis swept her arm toward the entrance before stepping inside. She strode over to one of the sinks, leaned forward, and began splashing cold water onto her face in frantic handfuls, as if trying to wash away not just her face, but her mind.

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Gears

Interactions: Wendel @FunnyGuy, Arya @Potter, Menzai @samreaper, Val & Scratch @Apex Sunburn, Phia @princess

The bar had quieted just enough for Gears to catch her breath between the clatter of plates and the ever-changing chaos. Her hands moved on instinct now. Wendel’s breakfast came first, and as she slid it across the counter, she gave him a little smile that danced somewhere between teasing and fond.

“Breland Breakfast, comin’ in hot.”

She let the plate land with a satisfying clink, then leaned in just a touch and added, quieter, and through a wink Wendel’s way as she spoke. “And for the record… still too much coin for one mead. You keep tippin’ me like that, I’m gonna have to start sleeping like you folk, all so I can start having dreams about you, honey.”

Her gaze drifted, just briefly, catching the girl with the stars in her skin as she spoke up. Arya, bless her, barely got the words out, but she looked like she was trying. Gears softened at the effort.

“Of course, sweetheart. You just sit tight and I’ll whip somethin’ nice up just for you.”

She started wiping down the bar again, then paused when Menzai spoke up behind her.

“Another mule tea. With honey this time.”

She smiled to herself, already reaching for the kettle. “Well now, listen to you, Mr. Sophisticated. Tea with a sweet tooth. Comin’ right up.”

She was halfway through assembling the tray when she heard a voice.

“Old ghosts?”

It was Val. Little thing always managed to cut right to the center of things with no warning. Gears paused in the middle of prepping a lemon wedge and gave her a soft look.

Scratch explained it before Gears could. Memories. That’s all they were. Just... old gears turnin' slow in her head, and not much else.

But then Val was leaning in again, eyes all wide and sincere.

“Come find us if anything’s wrong, okay?”

That one hit. Somewhere deep in her core.

Gears reached across the bar, her fingers brushing Val’s with the faintest touch.

“You’re a sweetheart, y’know that? I will. Promise.”

She turned her attention to Scratch, who had that look he got when he was about to start listing every loose bolt on the ship. Sure enough, he started squinting at her ocular receptors like she was a piece of broken cargo.

She rolled her optics.

“You know you’re not the only man alive who can flirt and do diagnostics in the same breath, but you might be the best in the world at what you do?” she muttered as he leaned in.

But then he got serious. Really serious. Started talking about sockets and subsystems like he wasn’t also teasing her about her “curvature” a few minutes ago. Val looked concerned as well. Too concerned.

Gears held up a hand.

“I’m not seein’ the world in double, darlin’. Just got one eye maybe a hair slower than the other. I promise, I’m not gonna mistake a spoon for a battleaxe just yet.”

She winked, then added, “But I’ll swing by for a checkup later if it makes you feel better. Even warforged gotta get tune-ups now and again.”

Then came Arya’s gentle voice again. Asking about Bastion. That scarf. That sadness.

Gears didn’t say anything at first. She just stepped over and placed a hand on the big guy’s arm. Not heavy. Just enough to be felt.

“You need anything, big guy, you just say the word. Or don’t. I got you.”

The kettle whistled behind her, and she turned to finish Menzai’s tea. But right as she reached for the honey, she felt a small hand wrap around her wrist.

Phia.

And before she could blink, the girl was pressing something into her palm. Small. Cool. Smooth.

A marble.

“This is for you. In case I do not return.”

The words were simple. Honest. Utterly ridiculous. And yet...

Gears looked down at the little sphere in her hand like it was the rarest gem in the world.

“I want you to keep it and remember... we are friends now.”

She didn’t move. Just stood there. Marble clutched in her fingers. Watching this strange, wild, wonderful jungle elf trot off toward the head like it was some quest of a lifetime.

When Phia disappeared around the corner, Gears slowly opened her hand and stared at the marble nestled in her palm.

Then she bent down, opened the small drawer beneath the bar, and carefully, reverently tucked it inside.

Not with the other trinkets. Not in the tip jar. But in the drawer where she kept the things that mattered. She closed it with care.

“All right, sugar,” she murmured to herself. “I’ll remember.”

And then, with the weight of that moment still clinging to her like steam on metal, she turned back to her work. Time to make Arya’s food. Time to pour Menzai’s tea.

Time to keep movin’.

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

---

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Hall
Mentions / Interactions: @Tae Kali, @princess Lottie, @Apex Sunburn Sjan-dehk

---

Cassius didn’t speak right away.

He just let her words hang in the space between them quietly like they were too honest to be spoken any louder. They sank into him, slowly...and for a moment, he felt seen in a way that made his chest tighten.

Not by judgment or by pity. Just seen. And, that should’ve made him feel better. Maybe even relieved. Instead, it made something in him pull back...and bury it. Not fully but just enough. It was out of instinct and due to the reality that it was the only way he was equipped to deal with these things. It was all he’d ever known.

He gave a slow exhale through his nose, not quite a sigh, not quite as soothing as it should have been. His shoulders shifted, like maybe he could shake it off, even if just for now.

His eyes found hers again, the corners of his mouth twitching upward with the beginnings of a smile.

“I could say the same about you, ya know.”

He said it with that low, crooked grin of his fully appearing on his face, and then turned his head just enough to glance toward Sjan-dehk. It wasn’t subtle...It wasn’t meant to be.

The wink he threw the man’s way was exaggerated, almost theatrical, like he was trying to make her laugh. Or maybe trying to keep himself from falling into something he couldn’t climb out of.

“I see the way you look at him.”

He let that sit there for a second, then gave her an ornery look.

“Guess we’re both in trouble, eh?”

He said it a little too softly, like maybe he didn’t mean to say it out loud. Like saying it made it more real. His gaze drifted, not to Charlotte this time, no, he didn’t dare in this moment...but rather to somewhere lower, somewhere safer. Somewhere less like her eyes.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, letting his jaw flex before forcing a grin back into place. And then he bumped Kali's shoulder with his, a quiet nudge that said more than he’d probably let himself say out loud.

“We’ll both be fine, right? Probably. Maybe.”

He looked at Kali again with the gift of a wink of her own. There was something flickering behind his eyes. Something few had seen from him.

“But seriously...Candy...or...something harder, would be just about perfect right now.”

Neo Genesis: Chronicles of Eberron

Bastion

Race: Warforged
Class: Warrior
Location: Airship; Top Deck - Bar
Interactions/Mentions: @FunnyGuy Wendel, @Potter Arya & Stella
Equipment:

equipment

☼ Tower Shield
☼ Greatsword made of Glacium (A material as hard as steel, yet formed from eternally frozen ice.)
☼ Titan Chain – A reinforced tow chain housed in his left palm, functioning as a powerful grappling hook.
☼ Aged Leather Satchel
☼ Worn but cherished scarf
☼ Maintenance Kit .
☼ Heavy-duty rations (for companions, not himself).
☼ A delicate glass figurine of a bird—an old keepsake.
☼ A locked, timeworn journal—contents unknown.

Attire:
☼ Etched and weathered plating with bronze accents.
☼ Fitted harness for carrying supplies.
☼ Worn scarf
Gold Balance: 44 gold
Injuries:
☼ None, but signs of past battle damage remain.

The glass of water had not moved, and neither had Bastion. He remained by the stool where Talis had been, one hand resting gently on the edge of the counter, the other idle at his side…as if waiting for instructions that would never come. When Wendel spoke, Bastion turned toward him, quiet and steady, his optics focusing with a subtle shift.

“Don’t hang up on it too much, Bastion. The lass might have spilled it with how fast she was moving.”

A slow nod was his reply, small and thoughtful, before his gaze returned once more to the glass. The light behind his eys drew in faintly, not dimming exactly, but concentrating, as if trying to see something beneath the surface of the water that wasn’t truly there. Something lingered behind the glass, something unsaid, something only he could feel, and even then, only barely.

Then a gentle voice reached him.

“That’s a lovely scarf, Mr. Warforged. Are you all right?”

He turned again, this time more carefully. Arya sat nearby, her voice kind, her eyes kind too. The sort of kindness that resonated with him. Her skin shimmered like the stars he sometimes watched when the world felt too full, and she had noticed something in him that most did not.

“Yes,” he said, softly, “Thank you. I am operational.”

He reached up then, fingers brushing over the fabric wrapped around his neck. It had been given to him, years ago, and he wore it not for function but for meaning, which was strange for someone who had been built without the need for either warmth or sentiment. But it mattered to him, and that was enough.

Wendel spoke again, his voice steady and familiar.

“… Bastion… You can always… watch them. Just like you do with the birds. A friend of mine calls it people watching.”

The phrase struck something deep. Bastion’s head tilted, just slightly, as if to better hear the weight of the words. People watching. He had no term for it before now, no proper classification, but he knew the behavior well. On the docks, in gardens, on rooftops and railings, in the corners of rooms while others danced or played or simply lived. He had watched them all, curious, quiet, studying the way their hands moved when they were happy, the way their voices lifted in laughter, the ways they leaned toward one another when they were safe. All to be more like them, more like the other biologicals.

People watching. That’s what it was. The word felt right. He would keep it.

“Or you can… make new friends. And she even has a bird.”

Bastion’s gaze flicked toward Arya again, then toward Stella, perched and proud. He studied the two of them, something soft flickering in the center of his chest. He gave a nod, slow but certain, and spoke gently.

“Thank you. Both of you.”

He adjusted the scarf at his neck, almost like a reflex, and then lowered his hand to the sun painted on his chest once more. His fingers found the golden lines, tracing them slowly, thoughtfully, the way someone might retrace the path of a memory. But his eyes never left Arya.
“You have a bird. Just as Wendel said. Just as I see there with you. Is it…fun having a bird?”

🗡 Roses and Daggers 🎕

---

Time: Evening
Location: Banquet Dining Hall
Mention: @JJ Doe Hala
Attire: A Suit Fit For A True Artist

---

Milo’s smile deepened with each word Hala offered, not in mockery or defense, but with a kind of radiant amusement that suggested he had just been handed the loveliest compliment in the world. His eyes never left them, warm and attentive, as if Hala’s performance had become his new favorite painting.

“I must admit, you have quite the talent for critique,” he said, his voice soft and velvety, like an intimate note passed in the dark. “There’s something delicious in being so thoroughly observed, especially by someone who clearly understands the theater of it all. If I knew you would be watching so closely, I might have choreographed my outburst more intentionally.”

He gestured idly to the space where the confrontation had fizzled, his fingers dancing in the air as if tracing invisible brushstrokes. “Still, you’re generous to praise the scene, and even more generous to call it art. Most would label it scandal, perhaps drama, but you saw a composition.”

With a little hum of admiration, Milo’s gaze drifted to the glint of their rings and earrings, the poise in their posture, the way they spoke like they were painting the moment with their own palette. “You have a dangerous sort of charm, you know. The kind that makes artists want to immortalize you in oil and gold leaf, and then quietly destroy the canvas so no one else gets to see it.”

He let that sit in the air for a moment, indulgent and sweet, before continuing...his tone still light, but now tinged with something quietly profound.

“I have been called a creator of moments, a summoner of reactions, an arbiter of consequences... and I suppose there is truth in that. But I believe it is not only those things I create. It is not only feeling or spectacle, though those are lovely in their own right.”

He stepped forward just slightly, not to impose, but to let the sincerity thread through the air between them.

“I create history. Quietly, carefully, and sometimes without permission. That is the true art, I think. To leave something behind that no one can forget, even if they never quite remember how it started.”

Then, almost as an afterthought, though his smile betrayed the self-awareness in every word, he added with a charming tilt of his head,
“Humbly, of course.”