nysalogs | ( introlog #5 ) strangerer things

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

FINAL OOC NOTES

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( twicetold tales )
[ A blink, and you find yourself standing elsewhere, Cain beside you. He's uncharacteristically grim as you watch the scene playing out before you — a memory, from Cain's past. For once, the smile's vanished from his face; he watches with his hands clenched into fists at his side. ]

i. divine retribution
[ You stand at the edge of a city block — what once was a city block. There's signs of the life that used to be: rich store fronts, their windows blown out, carts upturned, expensive wares spilled into the streets, bright pennants torn and lying muddied in the dirt. But the street is carved in half; feet beyond where you stand, it simply ends, a cliff jutting out into a cavernous canyon where the rest of the marketplace used to be. Broken rock, jagged cliffsides, and rubble stretches out before you, giving proof that where once a splendid capital stood, now there is only ruin.

A beam of light lances from the midday sky above, carving its merciless way further through the city. Screams echo as people flee its uncaring path.

Distantly, you can hear: Divine retribution! and The king has brought this upon us! and The gods are purging the corruption from Torhid! ]

ii. oh brother, where art thou
[ Another ruined city block, this one a residential district, the ground intact though the houses still ruined, from looting, vandalism, and worse, if not a great light from above. At first, it seems like the street is abandoned. There's little reason to be here, only broken glass, splinters of wood, and the burnt-out shells of houses, everything of value already stolen.

But something stirs beneath the moonlight. A small shadow that under the pale light reveals itself to be a boy — a teenager — a shorter, slighter version of the man standing beside you, the same dark hair, a handful of years younger, dressed in grubby, torn clothes. The younger Cain lets out a cry as he sees the destruction and makes a dash for one of the houses — a charred wreck, obviously not safe to enter, and yet he starts digging at the rubble blocking the door, frantic, calling out— a name. Abel! Abel!

There's a shout down the street. Another man, older, calls his name, comes running up to him, scowling, grabs him by the middle and drags him away. Cain's hands are cut, blood running down his wrists, but he still fights, twisting, trying to escape the hold.

What the hell do you think you're doing? Trying to get yourself killed? The man demands, but Cain's answer is too quiet to hear. Your brother's not there. He's dead, he was in the palace during the first attack, he's gone, Cain!

Cain slumps, going still, tears dripping down his face. The man hefts him up and carries him away. ]

iii. the substitute
[You find yourself in a cramped bedroom with two twin beds. It's shabby, but clean, everything neatly put away. The only other furnishings are a shared bedside table, a desk shoved up against the wall beneath a cracked window, a set of drawers and a wardrobe, and a chipped, full-length mirror. One door leads to a tiny bathroom and another leads out to a hall.

Of the room's two occupants, one is familiar: Cain, a few years younger than he is now, holds the other, a woman a few years his elder, in his arms. Both of them are dressed in the simple garb of soldiers; affixed to Cain's lapel is the pin of a junior officer. The woman is crying, her face pressed against Cain's shoulder.

Cain... I really wish Abel were still here with me, if he could just be... alive... The woman breaks off, sobbing, and Cain rubs her back, lets her cry. If he were only alive...

It's okay, Leo-nee— Cain tries to say something, but she interrupts him.

You have to stay alive, Cain! If I lose you, too... You're all I have, now. You have to, I won't let anything happen to you!

Cain stares fixedly into the mirror, his expression blank as he comforts her. ]

iv. to the dearly departed
[ Cain, the same age as the one beside you, stands at the edge of a cliff, the wind whistling by. Beyond, stretches a vast sky, stained with the pink and gold of a sunrise. Just visible at his feet is a small grave marker and a fresh bouquet of flowers that he's just set down. A few petals caught by the breeze, drift away on a swirl of wind.

It's been a while, brother. Sorry I haven't been able to visit lately... But I've been busy! Some pretty interesting people are visiting right now. They came all the way from the other side of the Grim Basin.

Cain tilts his head up, staring absently out at the sky as he rambles on at his departed brother.

They aren't the only ones. Do you remember Reinhardtzar? Apparently he met you once... A long pause, before he adds: He actually asked me why I'm in such a hurry to die.

Cain's expression twists, betraying a mixture of resignation and relief.

I still often wish that it had been you who'd survived the fall of the Torhid Kingdom instead of me. If you were still around, Leona would probably be more... Another pause before he adds, nearly inaudibly: I just can't seem to move forward from here. ]

v. the makings of a king
[ You stand watching a confrontation: Cain (appearing the same as the one watching with you), a female knight, an adventurer, and a girl in blue stand facing off against a bandit king. They're being held hostage, outlaws ranged around them in a circle, weapons trained on the group.

And then the bandit king laughs and asks them, Why don't you become my allies instead?

Cain balks, visibly startled. You need even more allies than you have here? Are you trying to build an army?

The bandit king answers. Yeah, I guess you could say that. I want to build a country. But for that I need even more power. I'll make the rules. I'll build a country where even the powerless like us can live in peace.

The knight scoffs. That's a joke. What about the villagers? How can you threaten them one moment and spout your powerlessness the next?

And the bandit king asks her: Have you ever wanted to be a ruler? A ruler means reigning over others. Me taking money from the villagers is no different from them paying taxes. Besides, we spare them their lives and a fair portion of their fortunes. In exchange for all that, we protect the village from enemies and monsters. Until we showed up, there was barely a village here with all those monsters disrupting their way of life. Those folks aren't afraid of us. They're afraid of us leaving them. So? You'd say we're a threat to the village still?

Cain breaks in without hesitation. I'll say you're a threat. The way you tell it, a ruler's job is to bully the citizens. This coexistence you're talking about might work as a system, but no matter how you look at it, those villagers live in fear of you.

The bandit king answers him. To reign is to be feared. That's what comes with power and responsibility.

And Cain snaps back: I'm telling you that's backwards! People want to live in happiness with smiles and all.

The bandit king regards him for a moment, smiling, then asks him: Then why don't you tell me what sort of lord you'd wish to serve? What sort of ruler keeps people happy and smiling?

But the Cain of the memory has no reply. ]

( wildcard )
[ Available at

idelva to plot for other scenarios from the event! ]

[ The expression on Cain's face is one Frederick's unused to seeing, one solemn rather than mischievous. It transforms him almost into a different man, and for a moment Frederick wonders just which is the real Cain, the cheerful man he's known up until now or the one that stands before him with a heavy weight on his heart.

It feels wrong to peer into such a deeply private memory and Frederick wishes for nothing more than to escape unseen, but Cain - the real Cain, made of flesh and blood - turns just as he's about to leave. Would it be ruder to leave without a word, or stay and pry even deeper?

Frederick hesitates a moment, then stands his ground to ask: ]

Do you still speak to him here?

[ His brother, that is. ]

[ There's no hiding anything, not when it's been played out in technicolor, a vivid scene put on display, no way to pretend that any of it hasn't been witnessed. Cain's tempted for a moment to pretend he has no idea what Frederick's talking about anyway — to put on a clueless expression, to play the fool, to make some teasing remark that might possibly distract Frederick from the question he's just asked.

But Cain knows that'll just make things worse. It'll just make it even more apparent how deeply personal that scene was. Just how much of Cain has been put on display, all the parts of himself he keeps deeply buried and locked away stripped bare and revealed.

He sighs, a soft sound that gets carried off by the wind just the flower petals had been. Ruefully, he answers: ]

Considering this island's been swallowed up by the Storm, that's a little hard... [ Not an answer at all, he knows, and before Frederic can press him, he adds: ] I did, though. That memory wasn't very old.

[ Frederick almost regrets asking as soon as Cain answers. All the memories he'd encountered so far have been years and years old, distant imprints on the mind. To encounter something recent, and something sorrowful no less, leaves him feeling uncomfortable in his skin. ]

I'm sorry. [ For intruding, for Cain's loss. For a whole host of things he isn't sure how to vocalize yet. ] How did he pass?

[ Perhaps that question, too, is too personal, too much to ask straightaway from Cain, whom he only knows so well. But that's the drive that pushes him to ask, to speak instead of hold back. He'll never truly understand Cain if he doesn't ask. ]

I don't know the details.

[ And that's hard to admit, too. It's an old wound, but it still stings, an injury that's never quite healed over. A wound that re-opens from time to time, memory only salt to sting it anew.

But Cain answers anyway. Standing here, on a world that no longer exists, facing the ghosts of his past, it feels too precarious not to. Like he really will never be able to take a step away from this place if he doesn't. He really will be stuck here forever, swallowed up by this ghost of a world, trapped in the Storm's memory when it fades, Cain vanishing along with it. ]

Our kingdom was destroyed. A sudden attack, a ray of light from the sky that wiped everything out in an instant. My brother was in the capital at the time, where it was hit the hardest. I can only assume he perished in the initial blast.

[ Frederick listens solemnly, face creasing even further as Cain spells out the simple tale of his brother's demise. Bad enough to lose a dear brother, but even worse to not know the true cause of death and be forced to make conjecture.

It reminds him a little of the Risen threat of all those years ago, sudden figures dropping from the sky and spreading across Ylisse like poisonous ash. They'd figured out the cause eventually but Cain...

Frederick stirs, restless. ]

I'm sorry. Did you ever figure out from where the light came? What caused it?

[ The answer to this question would be very different if I'd put in for Cain's canon update yet, but... ]

No. We call it the Divine Retribution... Straight from the heavens. Everyone said it was to cleanse us of the royal family's corruption, that the kingdom was so rotten that the gods themselves sent it to punish us.

[ His hands clench; he forces himself to relax them. He'd been happy, his brother had been happy, working closely with the royal family. His brother had been the best person Cain has ever known. Just how much corruption had there really been in Torhid, for his brother, good, kind, noble, to see none of it?

Had his brother known, and protected him from it all those years? ]

Cain | Granblue Fantasy

iv, what if it didn't take me 205892308424 to tag into anything

what if it didn't take me 205892308424 to reply

same tbh

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ii - late with sbux

mmm sbux

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