Timeskip Page for eachdraidh

[aslandish]

ASLAN COURT Seelie CURRENT RANK ✮ ✮ ✮ TITLE The Anointed (✮ ✮), The Word of Life (✮ ✮ ✮) OCCUPATION World Maker ABLE TO FAST-TRAVEL The ability to teleport anywhere within the lands of Glaschu. RESIDENCE IN 2,701 A lion needs no bedchamber. RESIDENCE IN 2,702 Still not tame. MAJOR EVENTS HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ] HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ] HIGHLIGHT Description [ ✖ ]

PLANS Making contacts and learning more about the drabwurld itself. Aslan will also be making his way around the world map during the summer months and working to reverse the damage left in the Jabberwock's wake. SUMMARY OF KNOWN DETAILS During his first year in the drabwurld, Aslan will have traveled across a good portion of the world map, met and interacted with a number of people, and successfully tackled the rot problem left behind in the wake of the Jabberwhelp. He will spend all of June, July, and August trying to revitalize the land, especially the areas around Caer Glaem, the Cothromach, and the Station. He will be sending out a call sometime towards the end of May to ask people to join him in this endeavor. (Map of the Jabberwhelp's path.) TIMELINE OF EVENTS SPRING IN 2,701 (Mar, Apr, May) MARCH - Chatting it up with Waver Velvet! Discussions about Gilgamesh (that hooligan) and Jabberwhelp rot is very likely. Aslan will also meet Saber (Alter) and Rin Tohsaka for the first time later in the month! APRIL - A meeting with Aragorn early in the month! Also sayin hi to Diarmuid at the new training grounds at Caer Glaem! MAY - Towards the end of the month, Aslan sends out a call for those interested in healing the rot of the Jabberwhelp. SUMMER IN 2,701 (Jun, Jul, Aug) JUNE - Aslan's journey around the world map begins. Attempts to heal the land of the Jabberwhelp's rot begin in earnest, starting in Caer Glaem. JULY - Anti-shardbearer sentiments are acknowledged and ignored. Healing process continues. AUGUST - Aslan arrives at the Station in early August. Still working on the rot-affected areas, possible run-in with forest golems on the rampage! Towards the end of the month, he will toe the border of Dorchadas and cross over into Unseelie lands. FALL IN 2,701 (Sept, Oct, Nov) SEPTEMBER - Healing effort continues. A close call with patrols leads to a handy rescue by Wan, and Aslan's journey around the drabwurld ends. By the middle of September he will be back in Glaschu. Possibly attending the wreath festival in Treun. OCTOBER 25-30 - Aslan attends Samhain. Possibly in human form. NOVEMBER - WINTER IN 2,701/2,702 (Dec, Jan, Feb) DECEMBER - Description JANUARY - Description FEBRUARY - Description SPRING IN 2,702 (Mar, Apr) MARCH - Description APRIL - Description

( codes by whambam )

Comments

NOTES;

[aslandish]

TIMESKIP #1

[aslandish]

Aslan's Merry Band of Healers
- Hermione | June-July
- Korra | 1 week of June
- Colette |
- Lia | June
- Lavellan | ?
- Ariadne | ?
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Please respond on Aslan's CR Meme post or PM me to let me know if your character will be participating and when!

Also, make a note of your character's participation on the Changing the Drabwurld thread on the Timeskip Calendar so it will count towards the rot reversal!

TIMESKIP #1 - Spring 2,701 to Spring 2,702

[aslandish]

March

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Last week of March - Aghmhor

[scorchedchivalry]

[Being a Servant meant that the weather didn't harm her, but that didn't mean Saber didn't feel the cold. And that's what the last couple weeks had been - cold. She'd spent so much time ensuring the Unseelie people in Dorchadas were thawed out and seen to, and then her and a couple other Unseelie had traveled to Briste to help those natives out with the freeze brought upon them all by the Roc. Saber was cold, she was tired, and she wanted to go home.

Someone in some place in some time that was not her own said that home was where the heart was. So Saber headed back to the Barrel where the woman she loved resided.

The king could have just teleported directly there, but she decided to walk the last few miles along the shore. The sea air down south was warming and it was a bit relaxing to be somewhere alone for an hour or so, where she wouldn't be called to attend to things. She vowed to not even check her locket until the next day. Truly, she could think of one sure-fire way to get warm when she got to the Barrel.

For the moment, she didn't want to be the Winter King. She didn't even really want to be King Arthur. No, she just wanted to be Arturia. Turned inward were her thoughts, her eyes on the sea, that she didn't immediately notice the presence of another...]

[aslandish]

The eyes of immortals witness many passings. Seasons are no different, and for Aslan, though the winter is harsh and cold, there is an inner warmth it can neither touch or quench.

He sits not so very far from the shore, a solitary figure painted all in gold. He stands out against the slate-grey seas, and the air seems slightly warmer the closer one comes.

Aslan also contemplates the sea -- considers the far reaches of this world that he cannot reach or see. It is a rare thing, a puzzle he can neither perceive nor fathom, but perhaps, that is how it should be, considering he is guest here.

Either way, it is comfortable. He is not expecting company today, but his ears perk slightly upon hearing Saber's approach.

Tilting his great head, Aslan considers her with bright eyes.

South west Glaschu, mid March

[notyetlegend]

Merida feels like she's been defrosting people for a good part of the last few weeks. The cold doesn't bother her, wrapped in a fire rune warmed fur cloak as she is, watching one of the wolfhound puppies with her wrap themselves around a child just now thawed. His fur is heated like her cloak, nuzzling the boy that giggles and hugs him before his mother takes hold of one of his hands, thanking her as she ushers her son indoors.

Lady Lioness, the natives call her. Merida can't help but feel as though that's a title she doesn't deserve really. She's just doing what she feels is necessary. She'd spent so much time in the last few weeks directing people into DunDealgan's warmth that it feels like she hasn't been back there in forever. Letting Angus stay in his warm stables was for the best though, keeping her on the ground and able to help those she comes across.

She begins the track home with the puppy bounding around her feet, his fiery fur melting the frost over the grass as he pranced every which way as she laughs a little at his antics, his litter mate joining him by pouncing and causing them to roll a couple of feet. There's a bark, and she lifts her head to look straight into the eyes of...

Is that a lion?

[aslandish]

It is a good thing that defrosting magical winters is something he has a fair amount of experience with.

Having returned from his quest with Gilgamesh, Aslan has spent a great deal of time wandering the lands of Glaschu and bringing warmth with him, wherever he goes. He steps quietly, but the thaw goes with him, iced-over trees and creatures healed of their afflictions. Sometimes, he breathes on them; other times, all it takes is his presence. He cannot affect the whole of the land like he had back in Narnia, but what he can do is more than enough.

He's in the process of thawing a cluster of trees and the family of creatures living inside of them when Merida and her companions catch sight of him. He meets her gaze and considers her openly, the intelligence in his eyes unmistakable.

It doesn't seem likely that he's here to cause trouble.

April

[aslandish]

Early April - Caer Glaem

[red_branch]

[It was rare that Lancer set himself to manual labor at random, but it was difficult to avoid at times. Caer Glaem's repairs were necessary and abundant. When he saw the work that needed to go into it, he dropped everything he was doing to lend a hand. He did everything from enchanting stones to make them lighter, mixing cement and doing heavy lifting, himself. He was doing a fairly absurd job when it came to the heavy lifting itself, lifting pillars of stone and gigantic blocks of wood barehanded to move them into place for fastening.

He didn't bother taking a break, given he wasn't hungry or weary. Lancer simply trudged along without worry, whistling the whole time.]

Late April - Harp Event Narrative

[aslandish]

Aslan practices.

It is something he is unused to, something that a creature of his stature has never found necessary before his arrival in the drabwurld. As the Creator of Narnia, its King and Overseer, Aslan has ever known the path he must take moving forward. From the foundation of the world, his vision was written into the very fabric of existence with authority and certainty. Now, separated from his children and rendered nearly blind, Aslan works with his shard – the one link he has to the place he truly belongs.

Having been shown the basics by Diarmuid, Aslan finds his task isn't exceptionally difficult – or at least not at the level he is currently trying to master. He managed to awaken his shard the first time, and thanks to Diarmuid's guidance, it is becoming easier to access. The green light that is becoming ever more familiar, has a soothing feeling to it, a warmth that calls to his own inner light.

It is this light that makes him sing.

The memory of his world, the Creation shaped by his own Word, a Song of Beginnings – the moment the stars first found their airy, tingling voices, the triumphant burst of light when the sun rose for the first time, when the trees began to dance, and waters became divine... Aslan thinks on these things as he brings forth the light of his shard, a soft, lilting note of sound rising in the air, a vibrant hum that might very well be tangible for all the space around him seems to shimmer. Were he closer to Caer Glaem, it's entirely possible he might have been noticed. A singing lion is a strange sight in most places, including the drabwurld, which is why he lingerscloser to the woodlands – trees that are still stripped and devoid of life...except they stir, upon hearing his song.

Intent upon his work as he is, Aslan almost doesn't notice the music that soon joins with his. It rises with his high notes, and falls too as a more earthy sort of rumble escapes him. Fur bristling a little, Aslan growls softly, instinctively as the sound persists. The pitch of it is strange, unnatural – something that doesn't quite belong even though he cannot pinpoint exactly why. Not at first.

Tail twitching in an agitated fashion, the sounds he makes deepen, lower, rougher, hinting at something wilder, more dangerous. His frustration over being separated from his own world is slowly being made manifest, and in time, his concentration and connection with the shard breaks. A rare fit of anger swelling inside him, Aslan rises to his feet and releases a terrifying roar.

Brittle, rotting trees crack behind him, a light tremor moves through the earth, and any animals within the immediate vicinity spook and flee. There are no words, only a thunderous expulsion of emotion he would normally never show or allow to rule his actions. He is better than this, patient and kind and forgiving. For now, though, a darker melody plays, and for about an hour, Aslan races through the countryside, all snarls and discontentment. He is doing things he should not have to, enduring inconveniences he should never should have been saddled with, and above all else, he seethes over being stolen away from his rightful place. He is the linchpin of his world, the one who was there before the Beginning, destined to reign even after the End. He should not be apart from it, and none of this is right...

Or so he tells himself until the melody that interfered with his falls silent.

Aslan stops abruptly, his fury suddenly fading as the lingering taste of foreign magic fades into the air. The day grows dim, the stars will soon be shining, and for a long moment, Aslan is...at a loss. He realizes how easily he was affected by the power of another, how his flesh burned and began to slough away during his encounter with the young Jabberwock), the reality of pain and mortality he has endured in times past, but usually at his own discretion.

Aslan looks around him, at the trail he has left in his wake – splintered trees fallen in his wake, a sort of silence that ought not be, even with the rot still so much in evidence. A twinge of guilt brushes his conscience, yet another sensation he is unused to, as he looks upon the mess. The lands that have been torn asunder and rendered lifeless already deserved no further ire from powers beyond the human scope.

Moved with regret, Aslan turns about and slowly re-traces his steps, singing softly once more in the cool of the evening. The reparations do not come instantaneously, and life does not spring forth immediately. It is a gradual mend, a bringing together of disrupted soil and trees that have fallen down. They move, straighten, and recover what has been lost in the wake of his rage...but still they do not yet bloom.

Aslan considers this too, for a long while, before his song rises once more, calling for life and an abundance thereof. Branches crack and stretch as old bark falls away, replaced by the new. This is his own power, not the power of the shard, and even as life comes forth from death, Aslan is still sober.

The stares have already begun their dance across the sky when Aslan is finally finished. A swatch of greenery now exists in a mostly barren land, and Aslan considers his work with a somber air. The power he wield, the deep magic meant to bring life to emptiness, light to a void; he does not know how far it is proper for him to stretch forth his (figurative) hand.

Glaschu requires a healing. He already knows this. There are other places too that made need the healing touch that he can bring.

He is still undecided, however. Still uncertain how much he ought to invest himself in a world that is not his own.

Balance in all things.

Aslan contemplates these things late into the night, and though he does not often sleep, he does dream. He walks through darkness, through the sharp, bitter cold of Nothing, towards an eerie sound that speaks of Endings without Beginnings.

It is a difficult path, his paws hurt and grow numb, but he continues. When he has gone far enough, it is a harp that appears before him, and he recognizes the same magic as before.

Face stern, Aslan stares at it a moment before drawing closer, the music pulsing with subtle violence across the landscape of his dream. He lets it play for one minute longer before he's had enough.

Aslan's maw opens, and a sound the likes of which very few have ever heard comes forth. It is a roar of triumph and of power, and echo of worlds crashing together, of the sun, moon, and stars suddenly crackling to life in a brilliant burst of light.

The harp shatters, and brilliance floods Aslan's dreamscape, illuminating the far corners of every mountain and valley, every sea and every nation, from the southern lands of Calormene, to Etinsmoor and beyond.

Narnia burns brightly in his mind's eye, a beacon of all that is good and right that has been wrought with his power. His judgment is no less sound or sure than it ever was, and a peace and contentment fills him as he stands at the edge of his own lands.

He smiles as he looks at it all and remembers.

The next morning, Aslan rises from his slumber refreshing and rejuvenated. He greets the morning with a roar and a easy romp through newly healed woodlands.

He is ready once more for adventure.

May

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June

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July

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August

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September

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October

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November

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December

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shortly after yule 2,701; white citadel

[babbylon]

[As promised, Gilgamesh and Aslan walk together. They walk together to the armory, with Gilgamesh's hand upon Aslan's mane, and they make for a handsome image as born companions—one clad in the golden armor of his station, the other of his usual regal bearing. The nightmare has passed, and with it, any measure of uncertainty; they must do this. They must fight.

Gilgamesh glances to Aslan from outside the armory's gates, not to say are you sure about this? but instead I am with you.]

The armor of men will suit you still. So long as it's of fine make, it does not dishonor you in any way, great beast.

[Perhaps Aslan remains uncertain about that much. Had he ever worn such a thing before? Gilgamesh wonders.]

January

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February

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March

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April

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May

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