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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Setsuna F. Seiei | Gundam 00
[Setsuna paid very close attention to Voss' speech, but not because he was enjoying any of it. This was his first experience with the man, but everything about him rubbed him the wrong way, and unfortunately, hit a rather nasty sore spot with him. He was quiet about it, as he was with most things, though it still was visible if anyone bothered to notice. The tension in his frame was clear, and his hands had been tightly balled up into fists for several minutes now.
When the speech was over, Setsuna tried to make his way over to Voss to have A Word. Unfortunately, the acolytes were blocking his way. Rather than push through, he followed his better judgment for the moment, backing off. He was still too new and in a place unfamiliar, starting something would be a terrible idea.
Still, he wasn't about to drop it. If he couldn't talk to Voss, then talking to others about him would have to do for now. Which is why, as he walks away from the acolytes, he asks whoever happens to be nearest to him.]
The speaker... what do you know about him?
II. Forgetting Is So Long
Something's wrong.
[Its the first thing Setsuna has said in a number hours on this trip. He had been feeling off all day, in a way that he couldn't really describe, nor could he really shake it. He knew it wasn't the fact that he was a stranger in a strange land; he wasn't bothered by that, nor by the strange weather they had been experiencing. The problem was deeper, more profound than that, but what?
It was like something was tugging at the edges of everything, some force yanking on the smallest threads that make up the universe. Reality was being bent, stretched, and snapped back into place, and the source of that distortion eventually hits him.
It hits him like a bolt of lightning as this tempest of reality. His eyes suddenly start to glow brightly as reality is overtaken by an echo of days past that's being tossed about.]
Go.... Go!
[He tries to push whoever is near him out of harms way, but its all ready too late. The past is present and they're both stuck in it.
a) (cw:war/blood) When what was then plays back now, whoever Setsuna is trapped with will find themselves in the middle of a fierce, desperate battle. On the one side, the military of Azadistan, with tanks, soldiers, and a platoon of massive mobile suits laying waste to what's left of the small village as they rain down bullets.
On the other side, children. Each one fighting desperately for their lives in a hopelessly outmatched battle.
b) Space can be a peaceful place, sometimes. The two drift aimlessly, floating along with the wreckage of a mobile suit. Below them, an Earth that looks markedly different from any other can be seen, though Setsuna isn't paying any attention to it. He's too busy staring more at the pilot of that mobile suit, a young man who is still alive, despite the damage to his machine. He can't help the way his lip crease into a frown, remembering how he felt during that time. He had lost his family, lost his Gundam, and worst of all, the world below was about to change, but into something that he never wanted. It was that day that he discovered jist how big the chasm was between him and his goals, and in that low moment, he wondered if he would ever become a Gundam.
Off to the side, one of the suits cracked and busted screens flickers to life, using the last vestiges of its power to fulfill one last task. A transmission begins, lines of text that roll across the screen. It's personal, but Setsuna isn't going to bother to stop anyone from reading it. He has other things on his mind right now.
c, locked to Mikazuki Augus) For one young man in particular, things got interesting. The two barely knew each other, probably said less than ten words to each other total, and yet, they find themselves linked. Later on, they may figure that it might be because their worlds are so similar that the remnant of the storm swept them both up together with the past of their worlds. Soon, they'll learn how similar (and how different) they both are, and why, in a desperate bid to ground itself, Setsuna's quantum brain was somehow able to link to Mika's very human one.
Right now, though, as the world comes into focus, the world shifts to aftermath of was a monsterous battle. In the end, outside of the two of them, there was only one survivor, a young boy who was ignoring them both, and staring up at the sky in a mix of awe and reverence. Knowing the truth of this moment now, Setsuna can't help but look back on this moment and feel differently, knowing who and what was up there. But even so, his eyes turn to follow the gaze of his younger self, because, for whatever else might have been, this was still the day Setsuna F. Seiei was truly born. And all because of the sight before them.]
Gundam.
III. Wildcard
[I'm certainly down to do more of the prompts, especially the memory ones. If you want one that might be more suited to your character, just pm this journal, or hit me up on plurk at
I.
This speech has so much bullshit in it, however, that he's decided he doesn't need to know much to form an opinion. His opinion is a very resounding:]
He's a dick.
[It doesn't matter if the question was addressed to him or not. He's responding to it.]
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...what?
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[He looks up to meet his eyes. If he had eyebrows, they'd be up, so instead there's a very odd crease in his brow you'd think a raccoonoid face wouldn't be able to make. He has a good feeling he knows exactly what that "what" means, but he's so used to it that why give anyone the satisfaction of showing them how offended he is.] Is my translator implant not working?
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It's working fine. [Because Setsuna can understand the Raccoon. But something like that still takes a few moments to process. Still, he doesn't question it; given everything he's seen so far, a talking raccoon isn't the strangest thing he's encountered lately. So after a few moments where he only blinks at Raccoon, his express shifts back to something more serious and he continues with his questions.]
What about his followers?
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Dunno. They're probably harmless. I know a lot of people do work for the guy, so he ain't the craziest person on this planet, but it's all relative.
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[Setsuna isn't entirely sold on the "harmless" part, having experienced first hand the amount of damage religious zealotry can do. But, if there is one thing he picks up on underlying the raccoon's comment, its that Voss likely isn't the only problem, or potential problem, that this world has.]
There are others causing problems on this world?
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They hadn't mentioned that on Thesa. [While effectively trying to shove how great both Olympia and Wyver were down their throats.]
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I
To be honest, I don't know as much about the religious situations in these cities as I'd like.
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[Its not much to go on, but he can't blame her if she doesn't know anything concrete.]
He seems full of himself.
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Still, you'd think that a man of faith might practice some humility...
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You're new then? A new arrival.
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I am. Yourself?
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I imagine you must be rather disoriented at the moment.
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yeah buddy
He's looking at it, feeling the reverence for that suit hanging in the sky like a celestial body. Mikazuki feels it, but it doesn't circulate through him in the same way the rhythm of Barbatos does —
Still. He's looking on at this Gundam. ]
It's bright.
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He managed to tear his eyes away from the 0 Gundam, that feeling of reverence fading, being replaced with something hinting of melancholy, as he looked over a battlefield that he hadn't seen in years. All around them, several Azadistan ANF's, the mobile suits that had been laying waste to the KPSA moments ago, lay trashed and dormant. Holes had been blown in each of their cockpits, and all that remained of their former pilots were ash, and that distinctive ionized scent of a high energy particle beam.
Dead bodies littered the landscape everywhere; children, the bulk of them. All of them were the same age as the younger Setsuna, were dressed similarly, and each of them were just as heavily armed. None of them were moving, though. Setsuna looked over to see one boy hanging lifelessly out of the side of modified workloader, killed in a machine they never should been behind the controls of.
It had taken him three days to bury them all.
The rest of the victims were adults; soldiers, clearly, by the way they were dressed and armed. All of them died fighting children, all over a God that never existed to begin with. But Gundam put an end to that fight, and Setsuna once again focused on the machine in the skies above.]
It was built with the power to eradicate war.
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Looking around, there are about as many similarities to this scene as there are differences. Mikazuki doesn't care to pick them all out, to hold them to the light pouring from that figure in the sky. These are memories at work here, part of this man's life. It's not his world, but another touched by the presence of a Gundam. It should mean more to him, but Barbatos was more to him than its frame, its designation.
And there are other things that have his attention, closer.
He can taste it. The scent of blood and fuel mixed in the air, hazed by smoke and dust. Death has a heavy, heavy weight that he's not entirely numb to, though his body and brain addled with trauma make a good go of it, keeping him level and calm. ]
Did it?
[ It's all he can think to ask. ]
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In retrospect, Setsuna had a better view of the irony of the situation. That machine gave him hope when he had none; it it gave him a glimpse of how bright the future could be. But it was the pilot of that machine who would continue twisting the world for their own ends, only for Setsuna to destroy that man and that machine to help establish a true peace.
but even so, they had done it. Now all that was left-- all that would have been left was to see if humanity could clean up the rest without their help.]
We changed. [It was the only honest answer he could give him.] The world was reforming, it had begun to build a future for itself.
Until... [Until the storm.]
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He'd come up against greed and hatred, and he'd lost. It sits in him, burning and low, making him regard the situation with a cool eye. Almost wary, though he's unafraid. ]
It's different, when you don't have the chance to fight.
[ The Storm had effectively made nothing matter, in the long run.
Of course, there are still things that matter to him, things he has clawed through barehanded to bring here with him. He can't dislike it entirely, with no love lost for his own world. ]
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Almost as if on cue, a sudden gust of wind picks up. Sand is kicked in the air, obscuring thier view as this memory fades back into the past from whence it came. In it's place, a new scene started to take shape, one that Setsuna couldn't say he recognized.]
What is this place?
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A very red one.
They're underground. Dim light filters in from a hatch above, casting the gray iron platform beneath it in reddish gold light. A suit sits there in a kneel, armor dull with disuse. Thick cables wire from its chest unit into the nearby wall. It lies dormant, a three-hundred year sleep. ]
We found it here.
[ This Gundam. ]
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That... that looks like a...
[A Gundam.]
But...
[The surprise and confusion are as evident in his face as they are through the link they share. By all accounts, Setsuna should not know what that machine. He's never laid eyes on it before, it's technology is unfamiliar; it doesn't have anything resembling a GN drive chassis, and what few pieces or armor and armoraments it has that haven't been stripped aren't anything that's known to him.
But even so.
That aesthetic. That color scheme. That V-fin, warped as it is. The way it stillnsomehow pulls at his soul. There was no denying it.
It's a Gundam.
But...]
How?
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