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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Okay. Do I have a face that would invite foreign agents to rummage through his childhood home indiscriminately?
[ His dead mother's boudoir, no less. Quel scandale. He turns around and tries grabbing one of the books from the shelves, unsure if it will go. It does, but what's behind it isn't the back of a shelf, but more of the strange foggy barrier, the edge of the illusion.]
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Foreign agents. You don't need to put it like that. I'm a very friendly foreign agent, you know.
[ He stands again, and turns - ]
Let's try going to another room.
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Through that door is a drawing room.
[ The door behind Byerly— two doors, really, with a nicely carved leaf motif. ]
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[ By turns, and opens the door, and steps through into a drawing room. This is not, however, Nash's drawing room. This is a room on Barrayar, a room By knows intimately well - a rather close space, one that smells of cinnamon and cologne, with slightly ragged furniture and a worn wooden floor and stains on the walls. The receiving room of the esteemed and handsome Kirill, the smiling and charming actor who ran with the town clowns. Five years older than Byerly was, back then, but a hundred times more worldly.
They're sitting in the drawing room, the worldly-and-unworldly duo. By's in his mid-twenties, clean-shaven but already with that air of stinking dissolution that marked his older self. Kirill has handed By a glass of wine, but By isn't drinking just yet; he gingerly rolls the stem between his fingers, an uncertain look on his face.
"They arrested Rudolph," the young Byerly finally says.
Kirill smiles and says nothing for a long while. He watches By all the while. Finally, evenly, he says, "They did. Does that upset you?"
"No," By answers quietly.
A moment, and then Kirill asks, "And does it upset you that the information leading to his arrest - that it came from you?" By's lips tighten, like he's taken a willing bite of something but isn't certain how he feels about the taste. It takes a moment to decide; when he does, finally, his lips relax, and he reports -
"No." And then, seeking some sort of confirmation - "You gave that information to them. Didn't you?" ]
Ah.
[ By looks on the scene with a little surprise, but no shame or anxiety. He looks over at Nash and says - ]
Look - it's my old spymaster. Handsome devil, isn't he?
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He is anxious, basically. ]
Ratting your friends out to the government, huh?
[ There isn't much accusation in his tone, or much scandal. In fact, despite the unease in his steps, his voice is the usual pleasant mockery. ]
No wonder I didn't invite you into my dead mother's boudoir.
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[ By's interest is definitely in this trip down memory lane. He doesn't help in the search; instead, he stands and watches as his younger self discovers that all this time, secretly, he's been serving ImpSec without even knowing it. It makes him a bit happy, honestly - how quickly his face goes from wariness to pride. He'd known, deep down, that Kirill was much more than an actor. ]
Besides, Rudolph definitely had it coming.
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Most people do.
[ But even the wicked get worse than they deserve. Still, he doesn't feel sorry for this Rudolph— not knowing even a sliver of the story. His attention is still visibly on the corners of the room, his hands running lightly on the walls— which don't collapse in on themselves. ]
This was your first mission, wasn't it?
[ Evidently he's still paying attention. ]
Some reward you got, for figuring it out.
except for the part where I did not type his name at all
[ By shouldn't be surprised that Nash is tuned in. Of course he is. What, let an opportunity for information-gathering pass? He would never, not even while he's distracted by his search. ]
But the first mission I realized was a mission. Kirill was using me for a good two years before this - I simply thought I was serving him, rather than the Imperium. Found anything yet?
i mean, the real reason he ditched it is b/c it's impossible to spell
And then it became noble. Nations are made of people, though, not higher purposes.
[ He steps back, as though that will get him a better picture of the wall, then knocks on it. It doesn't open… or whatever he expected it might do. ]
Nothing. Though I suspect if I open that door we'll be stuck back trying to fetch Moonlight Weed from Seek Valley. [ His first mission. And also, a euphamism meaning an impossible thing. ]
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[ He leaves Kirill, then, stepping over to the table beside the door. As he does, he says - ]
And I'd hardly say it became noble. I was still a wicked thing, even when I was a wicked thing getting paid by a different master.
[ And, very casually, he picks up a glass and, very casually, drops it on the ground and stomps on it hard. It splinters, and with it a bit more of the illusion. ]
It's like a puzzle. Rather fun, hm?
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[ He shakes his head. With some feeling: ] I hate these kinds of dungeons.
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Dungeons? Do you have a lot of experience with those?
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[ He might have a different idea of what a dungeon is than most people. ]
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One shudders to imagine what that would look like. Come, then.
[ He gestures towards the door, moving them on. Seems like there's one thing to break in each memory. Hopefully Nash will be the one to suffer next. ]
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What's on the other side is worse than he feared. This is the Circle Palace, a windowless room nevertheless filled with glass and light, blue reflected in the walls from the color of the tiles. That much glass and crystal is an enormous display of power and wealth, and the chamber is designed to accentuate it, with a small corridor leading to a circular dais. On the dais a man is standing— short, draped in ceremonial robes, capped with a blue mitre. A bishop.
Nash is kneeling in front of him on the steps, knees and fingers pressed full to the ground.
He stands up, and he and the bishop begin speaking closely. There's an obvious familiarity between the two, though their actual words might be difficult to make out from Byerly's initial vantage point. Something something elemental runes, something something. But then the bishop turns, looking down the hallway. "Who's there?"
Nash— who looks very much like the present-day Nash— draws a dagger from his belt. "I ordered everyone out of the room," he says, with an air of authority that seems surprising but not misplaced. "Do you intend to defy temple traditions?"
Behind Byerly, another Nash is standing. The one who came through the door. ]
Damn. You aren't supposed to see this.
[ His fingers brush the hilt of another dagger. ]
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Ah, a familiar pain. But there's a pleasure in getting to know each other a bit better, isn't there?
[ And he stands, and waits, and smiles. Seeing how long it will take before Nash pulls that hand off his dagger. ]
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Can't you just— cover your eyes, or something? I'll whistle really loudly.
[ Because there's nothing here to find out about Nash. His other self steps forward— to confront the man who has been standing behind a pillar this whole time, and now reveals himself. "You're Bishop Sasarai's—" the other Nash says, and then gets pushed aside by some unseen force. ]
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Then he might well kill him later. By's armed with a stunner, and if he shoots Nash then Nash will wake up within a few hours. And then, if this is information he'll kill to protect, then By will just die a few hours later. Great. Granted, he could stun Nash and then smother him where he lays unconscious, but -
No. By smiles, and drops his hand away from his gun, and pointedly turns his back on Nash to watch the memory. His shoulderblades itch with the anticipation of a dagger between them, but...Well, if it comes now, it would have come eventually, right? ]
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I really should kill you.
[ And it's not cowardice that stays his hand, exactly. He'd stabbed people in the back before— only one time literally, but still. It just doesn't seem worth it. So instead, he walks to the side of the room, pointedly ignoring the other figures, including his other self in a heap on the ground.
Nash remembers this part. He doesn't need to watch.
The two matching figures approach each other, the one demanding the True Earth Rune, the other refusing to give it. "Who do you think you are?" says the Bishop.
"You want to know who I think I am? Oh yes, I'll tell you who we are, you
and me." ]
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[ He tucks his hands into his pockets. Since he's apparently currently in the business of trying to provoke Nash into murdering him, he asks - ]
Clones, are they?
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Or it will be, when they get out of Holy Harmonia. ]
I don't know what that means.
[ Then he throws something like a smoke bomb into the middle of the room. It's not especially toxic smoke, unless you stand there breathing it in for hours, but something designed to cover an escape. The scene goes on in spite of it— and Byerly can probably make out Luc's globe of organs and body parts, magically suspended, his story of High Priest Hikusaak and his thirst for runes, his creation of perfect vessels.
Isn't really a commitment to state secrets that makes him throw the bomb, though it probably should be. Nash just wants to protect his own plausible deniability. And— Sasarai, who didn't deserve to have this happen the first time. You had to allow the lady the dignity of her veil. ]
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Tell me that isn't poison.
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[ Really, what is with Byerly and poison?
Meanwhile, Nash has found the flaw in the scene— one of the tiles on the dais. And so he stamps down on the ground, hard. ]