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( introlog #5 ) strangerer things
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. ON A BEAM OF LIGHT ![]()
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. CLOSE ENCOUNTERS ![]()
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. DECISIONS, DECISIONS... ![]()
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.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. FINAL OOC NOTES
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III
No. Correction: this probably isn't real, Rosalind thinks, though staring down at the ground makes her stomach pitch in an awfully real way. But this isn't real, because a moment before she'd been cursing the rain and mud, not climbing her way to the top of a roof. And why would she be on top of a roof, why would she be on the edge (well, actually, she can think of a few reasons why, but--)
No. This isn't real.
Rosalind turns as her companion does. There's a dead body there, but that doesn't mean much. More interesting is the man alive, and she watches as he steps forward.]
If you're going to kill yourself . . .
[Her voice is educated, soft but no less firm for it. This is a voice people listen to, by god, or at least a voice that will go on and on until someone listens, which is nearly the same thing.]
. . . you might want to try a different method. This is a bit messy for everyone involved.
no subject
Kill myself, don't be stupid, I'm not going to kill myself.
[ That was never the plan. Of course, the chance of it happening had been there - minimal, but there. No, this is about saving people. Which -
Reaching into his pocket, Sherlock feels the weight of his phone. Too early, but John won't be far from returning. Assuming this is going to happen exactly the way it had. He goes to the edge of the roof to look down. ]
No, no, there's something else going on here. But what.
no subject
[It's a touch waspish, but Rosalind doesn't seem all that bothered. She takes a seat on the roof's edge, with all the careless grace of someone who knows that they can survive a fall like that.]
Why were you here, if not to kill yourself? Let's start there. It's likely this is a simulation, but let's act as if it isn't.
no subject
[ He waves a hand carelessly towards the dead man who'd once been his villain.
He's certainly not about to give it all away. Sherlock's never been a sharer, and this is a particularly dim spot for him. ]
no subject
Had being the key word there, hm?
So. Why were you on the edge?
no subject
[ Her persistence is annoying. He's only half listening to her. ]
Thinking. Watching. Why does it matter?
[ The last of his words are a snap. This isn't real, he reminds himself, and even if it was, it's a game he's already won. He turns around and walks to the door that leads to the stairwell. But there's a hesitance.
Simulation, yes, but are the consequences the same? If he walks off this rooftop, will Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson be removed from their pods and never seen again? Will something happen to John in the real world if Sherlock doesn't play along - again. ]
no subject
[The possibility that he might figure it out doesn't seem to cross her mind.]
no subject
I'm not really all that concerned with your curiosity.
[ He walks back to the ledge, reaching into his pocket to thumb at the edge of the phone. ]
This is the last thing I remember before I woke up.
[ There. Is she happy? ]
no subject
Hmm. It might be a way for your brain to cope with the sudden change it's gone through, from home to here, or . . .
[She frowns, falling silent for a few seconds.]
But there's been odd things all around. Time skipping and lapsing, the weather . . .
[Hmm hmm hmm. Her experience with crossing universes is plentiful, but she's never seen things like this. But what else could be the cause?]
All right. My hypothesis: in reality, we're still precisely where we were. But because of the Storm, because the Natha enjoy messing with our minds, because emotions are easily manipulated and shared, we're reliving an important moment in your life.
no subject
[ Of course, this is easily the most important event in Sherlock's life. But he doesn't like her tone, or her implication that he's easily played. ]
Nor does my brain have problems coping.
[ Thank you very much.
But her answer is, unfortunately, the most reasonable. Maybe he should just let it play out. Sherlock looks around the skyline of London, biding his time, waiting for inspiration to come. And then - there. Something not quite right in the view, something that seems wholly not England at all, flickering in and out in the far corner behind them.
Of course they'd never look. The action is here, and Sherlock, stupidly, had entirely been slammed by emotions. ]
This way.
[ And off he goes, stepping over Moriarty, around the door leading to the stairwell, to that little curiosity that should be their ticket out of here. ]
no subject
[She stands, following him at a sedate pace.]
Your last memory before your entire world and nearly everyone you knew was destroyed? Undoubtedly important, regardless of who you are.
[JUST SAYING. But she's peering in the direction they're headed, frowning faintly.]