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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Oh, I've been up a while now. Blessed by the gods with another chance at life. [Not that he exactly believed in those gods anymore. The Natha seemed enough like gods, but cared nothing for what went on down in this world. It was an arrangement that suited him well.]
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It should have been Robb, he can’t help but think as he tries to regain some of that old confidence, lifting his chin. It's a poor facade. He isn’t frightened by Ramsay, but he is frightened by his own memories. Who or what is he to trust? ]
I don’t believe in gods.
[ He’s never said it out loud. Having an uncle who’s a drowned priest, being surrounded by Northmen who believe—it was never something you said. ]
You never told me who or what started the fire in Winterfell.
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If I knew I tell. As it is, I don't. [Ramsay wants to see the memory again. He wants to study that man, that Ramsay who somehow was and wasn't him.]
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The laugh earns a flinch. It’s a laugh eerily similar to the one that repeats in Theon’s nightmares. He rakes a shaking hand through his hair and steps backward, his mind and heart racing. ]
You’re—
[ Lying?
He thinks about that man, Davos, about what he said about Wex and the information he’d managed to get out of him. Who would lie about a lowborn ironborn mute? Theon hasn’t mentioned his squire to anyone, simply presuming him dead, but the boy was too clever for his own good. He could have easily been taught his letters and learned to communicate.
Was there ever a time when anything made sense? Maybe when Robb was alive. Theon can’t remember anymore. He wishes he’d been shown a memory of that instead. ]
You’re...lying.
[ His eyes are wide, like he can hardly believe he’s saying it either, but there’s still a very obvious hint of doubt in his voice. He doesn’t completely believe himself. ]
cw: in this tag, ramsay uses bad words :'D
Ramsay doesn't fear the uncertainty of another him, another history than the one he'd known. It angers him, irks him to think of things he doesn't know and cannot use. Reek's challenge was the same: a cause for irritation and a bright flare of anger.]
What's that? I'm lying? [He rounds on the man, approaching angrily-] I wasn't fucking there, Theon. I don't know who that fucking was, but it wasn't me.
[If Theon doesn't move to defend himself, he'll grab the man's shirt, pulling them together.] You sniveling dog-turd, do you think I'd grovel about after you? Calling you 'my lord' and begging for a suck of your salty cock and permission to flay some fucking child?
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He makes no move to defend himself. He would almost be happy to let Ramsay kill him, just to end the tempest in his head. There was a time when he would only offer that honor to Robb, but Robb had refused, and now Robb is gone. ]
It looked like you. It sounded like you.
[ He remembers it. He never did forget, but he’s tried to convince himself that his memories were faulty. Seeing it again has him torn, but he dares to push. What’s the worst that could happen? He’s already lost one finger, and his life has begun to mean little to him. ]
You called yourself Reek. You didn’t use your real name. Not until—
[ He still looks confused, eyebrows furrowed in doubt despite recounting events in such a confident manner. ]
Not until you and your men put Winterfell to the torch.
cw: ramsay is violent and uses violence
Ramsay himself as seen... something he couldn't completely deny was like him. Fuck.
It's very cathartic to strike Theon across the face. It also gives him more time to think about what he'll say in response to this fucking mess.]
RAMSAY IS HIS OWN CW
All he can do is laugh, half unhinged and half broken. Good luck with that, buddy. ]
LOOK SOMETIMES HE HAS A NICE THREAD WITHOUT VIOLENCE OR BAD LANGUAGE
He grabs the man by the collar and sets about leading him towards an alley he can see just down the street. He'll drag the man if he has to.] Fucking hells. Pull yourself together.
IT'S JUST THEON'S FAULT, I UNDERSTAND
He tries and struggles to pull himself together, to stave his laughter. Better laughter than tears. It takes a moment, but at last, he manages to speak: ]
You’ve not denied it.
[ Part of him wants him to deny it. ]
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If you accuse me of putting torch to Winterfell again I'll cut your fucking tongue out.
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I'm not the only one here who's accused you.
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Oh? By all means. Let me know and I'll cut their tongue out as well. [He's trying to be composed, but he can't quite manage it. Rage stirs in him, making him itch to see something bleed.]
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What you just saw accused you more than I ever have.
[ Oh, good one, Theon. ]
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He throws the man against the wall of the alleyway as they enter.] That's better. A little privacy. [He takes a step away, as if about to collect himself.
Then immediately he's back, holding the Ironborn against the wall.] I'm not going to deny it, because I've already told you what happened. I don't fucking know what that was we saw, but you and I both know it wasn't me.
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Theon is a poor judge of such things, and he wants someone to point him in the right direction, to tell him who’s right and who’s wrong. He can’t do it on his own, though he’ll never admit it. ]
What if Baratheon’s theory isn’t wrong?
[ He hates admitting it, hates even entertaining the idea after calling Stannis a madman, but it’s something better than doubt. ]
Two Westeroses? Two of you? One who made it into Winterfell and one who never did.
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Can you hear yourself? Two Westeroses? [The trouble is that Ramsay can envision it now. He'd seen than man. Heard him speak the Bolton words. He'd done something similar, pretending to be a friend to Reek, letting him go only to make sure he came right back where he started.] I don't care what you think, Theon. You're lucky I don't gut you for questioning me after everything I've done for you.
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What other explanation is there?
[ He knows he should put his head down and back off, but he doesn’t care by this point. That’s what happens when your head and your thoughts are a mess. ]
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What difference does it make?
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Ramsay’s question hits him harder than his backhand had. What difference does it make? Even if Stannis is right, this doesn’t help to heal anything else. Even if someone named Ramsay was in Winterfell, the blood is still on Theon’s hands. Robb is still gone, Robb still died, and Theon wasn’t there with him. Even if Jon and Sansa claim forgiveness, how can he accept it? He can’t find it in him to forgive himself. Nothing changes, really. ]
None.
[ It paints this Ramsay as a liar as well, but they’re all liars. Every single one of them. ]
It makes no difference.
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He contains himself to rolling his eyes.]
Are you done?
[The sooner they all move on and act as though this... memory he's seen never occurred the better.]
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Still, maybe it would be best to forget what he’s just seen. He’s never been happy, but he managed when he could push those memories away. When he thought Jon was lying and Stannis was mad, things were stable.
He nods meekly and finally makes a meager attempt to remove Ramsay’s hand from his collar, suddenly feeling choked. ]
I’ll allow you the honors of informing the entire city you’ve arrived once more.