You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you've made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren't expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you'd help the planet thrive. Are you ready?
Submit an AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 OLYMPIA REP POINTS OR 2 WYVER REP POINTS, respectively, HERE or HERE. THESA STATION
All refugees on the station are called to the hangar where a large-scale teleporter has been set up; everyone will be sent to the planet together. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait. Before they depart, all new refugees will be given a starter kit!
 You may have heard about earlier technical difficulties, but don't worry. I promise everything is in perfect working order this time. I'd say I tested it myself, but since that's not exactly possible, you'll just have to trust me! (Please.)
The older refugees will also be there to guide you to ensure no one is left confused... or behind. Make sure you wait for them — I've been detecting something odd so I'll be having them meet you at the landing site. Good luck, refugees! Not that you'll be needing it or anything...
The arrays begin to hum and glow, quickly building into a brilliant wash of light. It creates a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa. With the night sky as a canvas, the beam can be seen all the way from Olympia and Wyver — a view that has the natives whispering of blessings.
As a sudden but beautiful aurora splays across the sky, the refugees down on the planet receive a message asking them to travel to the landing site — and warning them to prepare for what may come of the strange readings Zasere's gotten from the teleport itself.
Traveling through the light leaves the impression of blinding starlight, a strange sense of weightlessness, and a disorienting moment of total sensory deprivation. The radiance of your teleport hangs bright in the sky above you, a shimmering aurora that reflects off the calm waters below, visible for miles all around.
You've landed on a peninsula to the east of the South Outpost. There's little here — scattered trees on spring-barren plains, with a few overgrown, dilapidated structures poking out of the brush. All is quiet save for the keening of animals and the gentle lapping of waves against the shore. This lonely desolation is hardly the bustling cities and vibrant cultures you were promised back on the station...
BY CAMPFIRE'S GLOW. But waiting for you is a group of your predecessors, and with them, a veritable tent city, with portable stoves, coolers of food and drink, comfortable bedrolls, and cheerful rings of bonfires — all that you need to make merry of the night, courtesy of Overseer Voss, who has, thanks to his interest in blessed meteorological phenomena and refugees, decided to make a holy expedition of the affair.
Settle in, meet new comrades, and enjoy yourself, for you've safely completed your journey. But don't wander too far from the fires — the dark is closing in, and there's a strange, electric feeling in the air, the scent of ozone drifting on the breeze. And what were those odd readings Zasere mentioned?
A SHEPHERD OVER THE FLOCK. The spring sun dawns on a grey morning, already burning away the fog rolling in off the sea. It quickly becomes apparent that Voss and his entourage of acolytes have been up for hours, hard at work. They've set up a brightly-draped stage and a travel pulpit, magically enchanted to amplify his voice, and as the sun breaks over the horizon, Voss is all set to do what he does best: proselytize.
 As our Goddess has sent Her blessing once before to herald the coming of those touched by Her light, so She has done once again! Here you see them, those surrounded by the light of our Goddess, each of them bearing the mark upon their skin of Her holiest of hands! Do you not see? Do none among you bear witness to the righteousness of Her message? Perhaps this is why our people have shamed themselves in front of our Goddess—
[ He continues for another 15 minutes... ]
Nevertheless. See you them before us now! See them as they are, coming to our gates with Her reminder, that these people must be treated with the utmost respect and care. Thesa's divinity is not to be treated with such flagrant disregard! Those who She chooses are not ours to use as mindless fodder, to hurt, to torture — shame upon those who allowed such deeds to shame us under Her watchful gaze!
To those of you who have just arrived here on our doorstep, be not afraid! The Temples of Thesa welcome you to our home with hearts and minds open! Should you ever find yourself in need of solace, seek out the Temples, as there are no greater allies to you than those of us within the Temple walls. You are welcome all to Olympia!
As he steps away from the enchanted podium, he can be heard saying aside to an acolyte, "How was that? Heavy on the shame, but I think it went well!" While he will not leave the area immediately, his acolytes will politely turn away attempts to speak with him and remind anyone interested that they can leave a message at the Temples.
Despite going off without hitch, the new refugees' arrival isn't entirely without incident. It seems that the "blessed" beam of light that brought the refugees down to El Nysa brought something else along with it — a sliver of the Storm. At least the beam was short enough that only a small fraction managed to squeeze through.
But it's enough to wreak a little havoc around the landing site and along the road back toward Olympia and Wyver — and even, for a few days, in the cities themselves.
THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE. The Storm is an undeniably destructive force, and that's proven with this small sliver's effect as it ripples across the continent. While there's no visible sign of its presence, strange phenomena soon begin to appear, corresponding with Zasere's odd readings.
They're innocuous little things at first. A sudden silence, animals going quiet, insects stilling. All technology, no matter how advanced, ceases working. You discover when you check with a friend, the clock on your phone is twelve minutes slow even though you'd swear only a minute had passed — time missing. Walking through the woods takes longer than it should when brushing past one bush leads to brushing past that same bush again — and again, and again, the area looping on itself. It keeps you trapped, going in circles for minutes, even hours, before finally releasing you in a random direction.
Or perhaps you'll feel a sense of deja vu, like you've walked down this road, taken this turn, seen that bird fly from this branch before. This is the second time that cat has crossed your path. The person you're meeting, you already know their name; you're certain you've already met.
WE GOT COWS. The Storm sliver also ushers in sudden, localized weather anomalies — heavy storms, blizzards, strong winds, and more. Affected areas range from just a few feet wide to nearly half a mile. One minute, the sky may be sunny and clear, but the next dark storm clouds roll in, unleashing torrential rain. Small tornadoes surge along the road, kicking up winds strong enough to knock people over and carry objects away. Hail hurtles down from the sky, but only in a ten foot radius. Temperatures fluctuate wildly between one extreme and the next, from heat waves to cold snaps. Soupy fog blankets the area, thick enough that you can barely see your hand in front of your face. Good luck finding your way!
FORGETTING IS SO LONG. The visions come on suddenly and with very little warning. One second, you're carrying on as normal — but the next, you blink and find yourself (and anyone near you) somewhere else completely. You may recognize this place as a moment from the past, one that you lived through. It's a memory, your memory, and it now replays around you in exceptional detail, unnervingly lifelike. Or you may not recognize it at all. It might belong to the person next to you, or to someone else entirely — a memory that the Storm has swallowed up.
Either way, the scene plays out just as it once did, and there's nothing you can do to stop it — or escape it. The memory surrounds you to no end: every door you open leads nowhere, every hallway you turn down continues on forever, every horizon you flee toward hangs just out of reach. And linger too long or turn the wrong corner, and you may find yourself abruptly stuck in a completely different memory. It's almost tempting, then, to give up, to let the past sweep you away...
But this isn't the full might of the Storm. Look closely, and you can see that in the walls of this trap, there are minute, hairline cracks, a facade of fractured glass. Imperfections in the memory where the real world is breaking through. It seems the only way to escape these memories is to find those cracks and break through them — by force, by will, or by some other method entirely.
The time is coming to make a choice — perhaps not a permanent choice, but unless you want to spend the rest of your nights out under the stars, you'll need to pick which city you will initially spend your time in. On the horizon, you will see that people have arrived to help you make that decision...
A FORK IN THE ROAD. Refugees and the hyper-religious wishing to hear Voss speak are not the only ones out and about under the light of the aurora. Citizens of both Olympia and Wyver have flocked to a point on the road midway between the cities and where the refugees have appeared, and they all have the same goal in mind: convincing the newcomers who have just descended in the blessed light of Thesa to come to their city and not the other.
They've come with bribes — that is, examples of what their cities have to offer. If you spent much time at the exhibition up on Thesa Station, you might recognize some of what's being shown off, though the offerings here are markedly more tangible, and shown off by hawkers wearing substantially fewer clothes.
A herd of pegasi accompanies the Olympians, while a line of flying serpents is stabled at a tent bearing Wyver colors. Refugees are given the chance to experience solo flights and are told that if they prove their loyalty, they may have the privilege of owning such fine beasts one day themselves. The Olympians have also brought couture clothing, jewelry, and makeup to offer a taste of Olympian splendor, while the Wyver delegation has brought along fine weapons, sense-enhancing jungle plants, and small vials of diluted dragon’s blood (drinking confers a temporary boost in strength) to demonstrate their might. The Olympians speak proudly of the glory of the Temples of Thesa; the Wyverns speak of the Volkkran Pact and inform newcomers that they can make a pilgrimage to the summit of Namarak Mountain at the next full moon.
This is as good a time as any to compare your plans with others around you and exchange contact information before going your separate ways with people who are going to the city you are not. When you’re ready to go, don’t worry about safe passage — the natives of each city will gladly escort you there in luxury.
OF WHITE AND GOLD. The people of Olympia are ecstatic that you’ve come to join them... So much so that they’ve prepared a grand tour of the city for the new arrivals. You will be introduced to the major businesses in the city, including businesses that they are proud to point out were founded by refugees.
Refugees who have been here for some time already are encouraged to pair up with newcomers to introduce them to the parts of the city they like best. To facilitate this, they’ve made arrangements with many of the business owners: new refugees who visit their shops (and older refugees who escort them) are given discounts!
Just a few examples of many: the Wyvernest offers free desserts to first time visitors with the purchase of a drink, refugees who visit the Silk Wyrms can have one custom (though not exceedingly expensive) outfit made for them for free, and visitors to Shades Darker are offered a half-hour session with one of the prostitutes at half price… or access to a private room, if they seem to have taken a shine to one of their companions on the tour.
Lastly, tour guides will point out that over the course of the next week, the train to Flona Cove will allow new refugees to board for free so that they can experience the seaside for themselves. With the weather finally starting to warm, this is as good a time as any for a visit to the beach, isn’t it?
OF RED AND BLACK. Life in Wyver is typically a sink-or-swim sort of experience — but in light of the valor recently displayed by their predecessors, the natives are now more willing to assist in getting newcomers settled. The entire journey here they have been talking up the virtues of their city… and now is the time to show everything that's on offer.
The well-known businesses in the city are prepared for the influx of newcomers. Some are giving out discounted samples of their products while others are offering a more hands-on experience: in exchange for working a few hours, they will give training in whatever task is being performed.
At the Forged, newcomers can learn the basics of crafting simple weapons (and take one of their successes home), while visitors to spas near the lagoons are trained in the art of massage. Those who wander to Falmi’s Ring can learn the art of pugilism or how to keep (and fix) books if they're more inclined to the gambling that goes on. Newcomers interested in Wyver's dragons can get hands-on experience at the Fields of the Exalted's nursery. While they walk from place to place, a guide may point out a job posting from Highwind Hires, noting that refugees can make a name for themselves outside official channels.
The last stop on the tour is the Undergrowth. The guides speak of the jungle in reverent tones and caution new refugees not to wander too far in. They warn never to explore alone, but also urge refugees to take time to familiarize themselves with it; after all, the jungle is an important part of life in Wyver, and those who are going to be living here should understand it as well as they do.
You've chosen your path, refugee, but that doesn't necessarily make it a permanent one. Watch out for the strange effects of the Storm, which linger still in the two cities and everywhere in between for the next few days before dissipating just as mysteriously as they came, but otherwise enjoy the welcome and make yourself at home — after all, this is home now.
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Ianto's expression pinches with confusion as he casts a glance around at the sand around them before back at the other man. "I don't know," he says, honestly. "I've never set foot outside of the UK before this, not even on holiday. You can't ask me a question like that. Taliban?"
He gives John's new fatigues another once-over before glancing back at him, alarmed. "This isn't Afghanistan. The planet's been destroyed, John."
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"Yeah," he accepts, "it has."
Holland meets John's eyes as if there's nobody else around, as if there's nothing else he'd rather be looking at. The pain and exhaustion is evident in his features, but John's presence is giving him hope.
"You crazy son of a bitch," Holland says, and there's grudging admiration in that. John smiles in response, but there's something sad about it.
"Holland died over five years ago now," he says finally. "He never made it out of this desert. I was too late."
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Another man might start with sympathy first, but Ianto's lost enough friends to gloss over that part and mostly be puzzled. Maybe that makes things more awkward. Maybe not. He can't let himself overthink things right now.
"What is this?" he asks the other man, casting a wary glance back at John. "What are we doing here?"
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He pushes to his feet again, looks around the area with a hint of unease.
"Environmental. Some device, or creature, or creature with a device messing with us."
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"Virtual simulation," Ianto echoes aloud as he thinks, looking at John's clothes then at the helicopter beyond. "Right." He takes a few hesitant steps forward, sliding on the sand and careful to stay as far away from Holland as he can. The other man still eerily not seeming to acknowledge his presence at all. Placing a hand on the metal of the hull of it, which is almost too warm to bear under the heat of the sun above.
"Does this feel like a virtual simulation to you?" he asks the other man. He's never been in one himself, but John sounds like he knows more about these things. There are a lot of things that John sounds like he knows more about than he's telling Ianto. He's not sure how to feel about that either.
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"Well the last one I was in felt pretty real, I even got stunned with an energy weapon and it hurt like hell. Then this other time there were these... weird, mist creatures messing with our heads but somehow they made the hallucination... communal. That felt real too but the content was what gave it away, kind of like this."
He half glances toward Holland, stops short of looking at him and fixes his eyes n the helicopter instead.
"So. I guess we have a few options. Try yelling a lot. Walk around in case it has a limit we can find. See if it responds to us desperately thinking mental commands to disengage us, or wait a few years in hope of a rescue."
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"Right," he says. Trying to sound like he's got his shit together when internally the truth is anything but. "Right, okay. No waiting. We're going to get ourselves out of this." Because there's no one coming to save them. Everyone who might be missing Ianto is either dead or comatose. A rescue is out of the option.
He casts another glance around and then back down at Holland, considering. The man is clearly the central factor in the vision -- memory? Perhaps this reality will collapse upon his death? But waiting around for the man to die is rather morbid and Ianto is not so cold-hearted that he could kill him for the sake of a theory. "So... We've just got to look for the limit of this place then, yeah?" he asks, stepping away from the helicopter and away from Holland as well, taking no chances. "Physical?"
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Since that can do a similar thing. He looks around again, avoiding letting his eyes drift in the direction of Holland. Holland's voice croaks out something behind him --
"When we get out of here, I'll make sure I say something really nice at your court martial."
-- and John takes another breath, steels himself.
"Let's try heading west."
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"West," he echoes instead, with a nod. "Right. Let's head west then." He pauses for a moment, before glancing back at John. "Which way is west?"
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"This way," he says finally, and begins to head in a direction that is presumably west. The sun is bright and hot, the sand deep, but John is used to that. His attention is largely focused on drowning out the sound of Holland's voice behind him as he begins to walk, say something mumbled.
"There's also," he begins, pitching for a conversational tone. "A few things I should probably tell you. Things of the... largely classified variety, but I'm guessing we're well out of jurisdiction for that. As far as I know, we're not at war with the Welsh either. I mean you have nothing we want, we're good on sheep."
John takes a deep breath and lets it out in a long sigh.
"So, you should know that while I'm from California I haven't been there in a long time. For... various reasons, but most recently because I've been part of a team."
Right. A team.
"An expedition," he enlarges, and begins to half turn toward Ianto. The sky begins to cloud over and John's eyes shoot up again, narrow at the rolling clouds. "That's not --"
Not right. The ground resolves from sand into metal, and the rain hits them both like a wall of wind and water. From the peculiar balcony they're standing on there's a view of nothing but ocean, with high waves being whipped up by the storm. Behind, a strange city towers in a mixture of metal and glass. John's desert gear is gone in favour of the black he was wearing before, and he feels his heart begin to race as he backs up away from the balcony. Not that it does much for shelter, the rain slams against the side of he city regardless.
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Of course, he could be regretting that as John pulls out the sheep jokes. He shoots the other man a quelling look, but allows him to carry on without comment. For the most part this whole lead-in is sounding oddly familiar, all things considered. Classified. Part of a team. Except for the expedition part. He means to ask the other man just what sort of an expedition he means but then his shoes click on the ground below them and the rain starts again.
"...brilliant," he says, as he finds himself almost immediately soaked through again, gripping the edge of the balcony to stare out at the ocean before them. Knuckles white as he turns to the other man, blue eyes wide with alarm as he questions, "You wouldn't happen to know where we are now, would you?"
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Major Sheppard, how's this for credibility? Weir is--
But John has already moved to snap it off, eyes narrowing around the area as he moves them into a hallway. It's dimly lit, with high ceilings and occasional groups of small lights decorating the pillars.
"Welcome to Atlantis," he says finally, voice hushed in the quiet of the hallway as he closes the door behind them. "I was getting to this part. Eventually."
Although if thinking about something is all it takes, John fervently wishes he had more relaxing memories than he does.
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He takes a step away from the other man, running a hand through his dampened hair as he tries to wrap his head around this second jump in -- time and place? John's memory? -- as well as understand John's explanation of it.
"Well, since we're here now. Get to it faster then," he says. "What is this place? Where is this place?" He turns back to the other man, shaking his head as he does. "I saw it on your patches, but I just thought... I don't know, a team name maybe? "
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"Well," he begins awkwardly, "it's Atlantis. You know, the lost city of Atlantis? Well, not exactly lost now. Anyway, the important thing to realise is it's... in a galaxy far, far away full of... monsters who are trying to kill us and people who want to shoot us so they can take over the city. Which is what's happening at the moment, if I'm right. They have a jealousy problem."
That, and there may have been one or two misunderstandings along the way which. Strained things. This is the short version of the story, though, not the lengthy history of awkward social situations where negotiations have gone south or being disrupted by well-intentioned actions that end in disaster.
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He glances at the dimly lit hallway around them, trying to put two and two together -- the things he knows from history and the environment he sees around him. A galaxy far, far away?
"How?" he asks, because it's the first question that comes to mind. "Atlantis is an Earth legend. Why is it an Earth legend if Atlantis itself is..." Wherever they are. Never mind the monsters, Ianto's used to those. He's mostly fixated on the fact that John's been stationed in space. He turns to the other man and asks, uncertainly, "When did you say you were from?" Knowing full well that John had said no such thing at all.
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"I didn't," he points out, and the device lights up and begins to add its own soft glow to the area as John carefully fiddles with the settings. "But, we should probably focus on getting out of here first."
Before going into theories of the Ancients, flying cities and mysterious vampiric aliens who they may or may not have woken up and unleashed on the galaxy.
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"Fine," he replies, frowning at the other man as he does. "Well, we walked out of the desert into this place. It stands to reason we can just walk right out of here." He raises an eyebrow at the other man. "Pick a different direction this time?"
West certainly hadn't gotten them anywhere good.
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"I was avoiding the Taliban," he protests, but really it's not the point. The point is he now has to keep Ianto safe. He shoots him a frown before beginning to move to a stairwell. "It's not like I'm doing this on purpose," he adds softly. "Do I look like I'm enjoying it?"
Mostly he looks wet, but an unhappy sort of wet. It's written into uneasy, uncomfortable lines of tension -- a frown that isn't especially deep but is still there to show concern. John remembers this city, and also remembers this storm. He remembers that it's dangerous. At least the radio message gave him a clue for how far along it should be.
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"...well," he says, after quietly trailing along after the other man for a moment. "Not really."
Which really isn't all that comforting either. But that's neither here nor there. He's still there by his side, and he's still helping him get out of this, and that counts for something. It has to.
"Where are we going?" he asks. Because he has to keep talking or else he will start to panic, and if he's not going to tell him about Atlantis, then he's got to pick something.
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A voice down below says Are you sure we're on the right level? Then, after a long moment, Where did he go?
Boots click along metal below them, and the device in John's hand seems to show two dots close together, and another three more moving along past them slowly. John holds a finger up to his lips to indicate quiet, and watches the screen for a long moment until they begin to move again. The dots, and the footsteps, vanish off the screen and soon the hallways are silent again.
"Well," John says softly, "we're not going the same direction they are."
Since John isn't strictly sure if this is one of those situations where if you die in the... hallucination? Memory? Whatever this is, if you die in it do you actually die? Easier not to find out, and John doesn't know if he can keep himself and Ianto alive as easily as he could just keep himself alive sneaking around Atlantis. Especially when he's so chatty.
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He glances between the device in the other man's hand and John himself. Right, stay quiet. Don't get caught. He can do that. It's just...
"You need to tell me what's going on here," he whispers, fiercely. "Who are those people? Is there a chance that they're going to find us?"
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He glances around then plants a hand in the centre of Ianto's chest -- backs him up toward a wall and behind a pillar, crowding him into the shadows.
"Now," he begins, "can you shoot a gun?"
He pulls a sidearm out and checks it over, squints at Ianto.
"Not that I know if it counts as a real gun, since this was taken off me a while ago, but from previous experience when I shot people with guns I thought were real they seemed to go down -- hallucination or not."
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Can he shoot a gun? Ianto glances down at the gun that John has indicated then back at John himself before reaching out to take it.
"I can shoot," he says. Inspecting the gun for a moment to determine whether it's some special sort of future gun that might be shooting lasers or something, or whether it will be firing regular bullets like every other gun he's accustomed to shooting. "Am I going to need to?"
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"Well," he says, picking over his own gun. "I'd rather you have it just in case. The city is mostly evacuated because of the storm, but these people took that as an opportunity to invade us and seize control."
Which he can tactically respect, but is a problem when the storm is imminently going to destroy the city.
"Now, since this isn't real my overall grip on the situation is tenuous at best. But, if we go by the script I cut power to the control room to stop them keeping control of the city."
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If we go by the script. Ianto's thinking fast on his feet as John speaks. The memory seemed to be progressing on much the same as it had been without John's input before. Holland speaking to him whether or not John responded to what he had to say or not. He wonders whether it makes that much of a difference whether they follow the script or not, or whether the script will continue on despite them.
"Maybe we should stick to what we know," he says, glancing around uncertainly before back at John. "What you know. Then at least we'll find ourselves at something of an advantage. ...hopefully.”
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