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.
An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 REP POINTS FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE AND HERE RESPECTIVELY BY APRIL 29th 11:59 PM EST.
We will no longer be providing overflow posts. In an event where the post hits CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals or create their own catch-all post. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP.
1 SILVER = 1 US DOLLAR.
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
cr forgetting!!
And then he sees her there. So he takes a breath, and pushes what he's seeing aside, and arranges his features in an expression of confusion. ]
Where are we? Is this the - What is this? I don't get it.
[ Hoping - hoping - to spare her heart the humiliation and horror of knowing that he's seen this. To make it seem like he simply doesn't comprehend what's going on. ]
no subject
but she thinks he must know that it's her. he's good with people.
which means he's giving her an out. which means he pities her. bad enough that he's seen this, that he's still seeing this. she turns away from the sight before them, khlyen telling her younger self to divorce herself from her pain, from her fear. to never ask why. to kill because she has to. his tone is honey and silk over steel.
there's a bitter taste in her mouth when dutch lets herself take the pity and the out. ] Yeah, no idea, but it's weird as hells.
[ her younger self manages to slip from the bonds by dislocating her own shoulders. it's something dutch has done too many times since. ]
no subject
But there's nothing he can do. He reminds himself of that. This isn't a real child, and even if it were, he couldn't affect a damned thing. ]
Shall we go?
no subject
the only one who's ever tried to protect her is d'avin and he's been through enough shit on his own. she doesn't want him fighting her battles. can't have him fighting her battles. (here's a truth: khlyen teaching her how to kill, khlyen teaching her how to be hard and cold and cruel and emotionless, khlyen breaking her? that had been khlyen protecting her from what was to come.)
this isn't a battle anyone can win, anyway — but what a world of a difference it would have made to little yalena yardeen to understand that khlyen's ways were not good parenting. ]
See an exit around? [ because dutch doesn't — or she does, but it's just the exit to the room and she can see her old bedroom beyond it. ] I could sure do with a drink right now.
no subject
[ There's something repugnant about turning his back on a weeping girl. His muscles are stiff, his gait unnatural, as he turns towards the bedroom. His hands are shoved firmly into his pockets to keep them from going for the gun in its holster. ]
Can't hurt to explore, right?
[ It can, actually. Moving from room to room has taken him to places he didn't want to go - and led others to places he didn't want them to be. But if the cost of getting her away from this echo of cruelty is letting her see a memory of his, or taking him to a different memory of hers, that's damned fine by him. ]
no subject
[ if she sounds a little more bitter, more negative and less inclined to be adventurous than usual, well. who can blame her, really? she hates how obvious it is that byerly isn't unaffected. how obvious it is to someone else that what happened in her childhood wasn't normal.
how it hadn't been obvious to her at all until she'd met johnny.
she follows him toward the bedroom, though, and if there's a knife in one of her hands that wasn't there a moment before, byerly already knew she's dangerous. ]
no subject
Byerly's eyes go narrow, and he turns to look at Dutch. It's clear from his face that he recognizes this place.
A boy crashes through the greenery. He's very small, and quite slender, and pants and wheezes in a way that sounds rather asthmatic. No mistaking those eyes, though, beautiful and long-lashed even then.
He's running from something. He stumbles to a halt before an old willow with thick leaf cover, and looks up at it with terrified eyes - with a shudder, gathers his courage and starts to climb - and then stops a single branch above the ground, shaking. Poor little coward is more afraid of heights than he is of whatever is chasing him. ]
Ah. Yes.
[ Byerly murmurs that quietly to himself. ]
no subject
What's coming? [ she asks, sharply. whatever out he'd given her, dutch isn't kind enough to offer him the same. ]
no subject
A walking, talking piece of shit.
[ And here that piece of shit comes. It's a tall boy, probably seven years' Byerly's senior, obviously a relative - those lovely dark eyes are evidently a trait common to his clan. He's athletic and lean and muscular, confident, loping easily along - making half as much noise as By had even though he easily weighs twice as much. He grins as he spots By, and comes and grabs the branch he's standing on and shakes it till By falls to the ground. And Byerly doesn't try to run again - instead, he curls into a defensive ball, yanking in all his limbs and tucking in his head, eyes squeezed shut.
"Give me your arm, By." Richars' voice is low and warm, but there's just a little bit too much quickness to his breath. That's the sort of excitement only a sadist has.
"No."
"Give me your arm," Richars says, "or I'll go and find your sister." And there's a long silence, during which Byerly doesn't move or breathe. Then his eyes come open, and they're red-rimmed - but they're dry. He extends his left arm. Richars takes it.
Byerly, the older version, watches all of this with an ironic little smile on his face. He doesn't even flinch when Richars snaps the boy's arm. Stoicism that's not new - the Byerly of memory doesn't let loose anything more than a soft sigh when the bone breaks. ]
I'd forgotten about this one.
no subject
she isn't bothering to protect his feelings, but his younger self's arm snaps and she turns to look at byerly and offers, tone deceptively casual: ]
If he's in stasis and wakes up and you want me to break his arm, just say the word.
[ it wouldn't be the first time she makes a grown man cry. ]
no subject
[ He smiles, though his eyes stay fixed on the scene in front of him. Not quite as unaffacted as he pretends to be; he doesn't blink, not once. Richars is informing him - voice level and calm, smoothing the sleeve of the boy's shirt, that this wouldn't have happened if he hadn't been playing music so loudly. It's a rather clumsy bit of gaslighting, but Richars himself is young yet; it's a skill that he'll develop nicely over time. ]
I don't know that I've earned such indulgence, my dear Dutch.
no subject
[ it comes out a little sharper than intended. she's angry at the sight in front of her, yes, but she's angrier still from the earlier scene, from having her childhood dragged up and into the light without her say-so. she's angry, because the alternative to anger is something far worse. ]
no subject
This one got what was coming to him. If it's any comfort.
no subject
no subject
I told on him for this one. He broke my fingers for the trouble. And talked the adults into agreeing that it was just character-building. I was so very lacking in character, you see.
[ He tucks his hands into his pockets. ]
Where were the good ones, when we were young? The ones who'd sink knives into the backs of sociopaths like these?
no subject
[ the answer is immediate, her tone not bitter so much as just factual. people who give a shit about others, who care like that? they die easily because they give so much of a shit. ]
no subject
no subject
[ dutch shrugs, lips twisting almost cruelly. it's directed less at him than at herself. ]
I am because I was raised not to give a shit.
no subject
I see. And the offer to murder dear Richars -
[ By gestures at the boy, who gives the trembling Byerly one last pat on the head before wandering back into the woods. ]
That was made out of indifference, hm?
no subject
[ she doesn't. ]
no subject
I believe I've borne witness to how very much that is not the case, dear Dutch.
no subject
That was a long time ago.
no subject
no subject
[ but while there's a threat in her tone, it's an utterly empty one. ]
no subject
I bare my throat to you, madam.
(no subject)