❪ event ❫ khalo? can you hear me?

[natha]

In normal circumstances, this would have been near the time in which you're called upon to greet the newly awakened. Unfortunately, I speak to you to inform that we must postpone that — there is trouble on your horizon. What, I cannot see for sure. We shall continue to monitor the situation, however — we - ... we — [feed cuts off.] OLYMPIAN PRESERVATION     The city of Olympia is preparing the send-off of its most prized artifact: the heart of the ancient dragon, Ysverai. In doing this, they've transformed the palace court into an exhibition detailing the centuries-old war between Wyver and Olympia. Sculptures of Nithor the Exalted and his men and women in clean, white marble, while their armors are polished in perfect gold. Among Nithor are the sculptures of stallions in all shapes and sizes that also aided in the great war. Further in the exhibition, one may also find other artifacts of much older weaponry, rusted by its time in the earth, and items found from a time when humans feared the dragons. The Royal Guard has increased its numbers in wake of such a public event, particularly because the heart will be in display also. The heart is not what one might expect it to be: about the size of an average human, the heart's core is surrounded in stone, a red glow emitting from its still beating core. If that were not unsettling enough, one might also find that lingering around this particular exhibit will have undue affects on one's inhibitions. You'll notice your heart has fallen into sync with the organ, and your more selfish desires will come forth. Things that have long been buried will rise up and place you in a state of unease, encouraging paranoia about your companions intentions. Allow it to fester, and one will carry this feeling with them long after you've left the scene. It's probably a good thing this is leaving Olympia — perhaps it's a source of so much conflict you've endured. It's easy to become mesmerized by all the historical artifacts that are present in Olympia's exhibition. Some even seem mystical or, like Ysverai’s heart, to hold unspeakable powers. Others are just a little eerie. Either way, Olympia prides itself in its generosity and their grand displays, and so refugees are urged to learn more about their artifacts by spending the night in Palace Court. Though, someone should probably mention that there are rumors of strange, almost occult things happening around these relics at night. People speak of armored soldiers casting shadows that have the ability to walk on their own, or gemstones that catch the moonlight in a certain way and show you visions. But those are just silly ghost stories, right? TALL TALES OF KHALO VILLAGE     Because of Khalo's proximity to Wyver, it's no surprise that they would catch wind of the peace talks between Wyver and Olympia. In response, for the first time in centuries, Khalo Village has willingly granted passage to outsiders — but visitors will immediately find out that one cannot just simply walk into the village. Visitors will need to inhale the smoke of a fyrra herb in order to enter the premises without falling into slumber. Khalo is notably different than what refugees are used to. Visitors, specifically refugees, will find that they are exceedingly accommodating. The Khali are very intrigued by the outsiders, thus they're treated with much respect and given instant access to some of the best lounges and fyrra the village has to offer. In exchange, the village is interested in hearing about your journey thus far. Whether it be through a conversation with another individual or the Khali themselves, they'll very likely to have been eavesdropping and recording the tales of their exploits. Why, exactly? Perhaps it will not be immediately clear, but if you happened upon a venasou, a tamed Khali creature, it may have guided you to their Enchanted Library. Upon entering the library, visitors will notice that it is quite the happening place — but not because it's occupied by the Khali, but because there seems to be an assembly of magical quills seemingly writing on their own. The quills are mostly undisturbed by the intrusion and will not stop writing even if parchment is taken from it; it will simply produce another piece of paper and continue its tales. If you happen to read the parchment, you may notice that there is a daunting similarity between your story and the ones being written here. Tales of Thesa birthing new races and sending them from the sky, for example, are very popular in Khalo Village. They mark July 15th as the day in which the Moon Goddess, Thesa, created more people in her image and brought them to El Nysa as saviors. The coincidences don't end there: specifics about your home world might be found in the writings if you search deeply enough — but it's not without its exaggerations. These stories are given all sorts of poetic and literary forms, from short stories to limericks, biographies to something similar to haiku. If asked, the Khali will inform visitors that the enchanted library has access to vague parts of your memories, and thus it is duty-bound to record. The Khali have not seen stories as strange as the ones being made by refugees, which is largely why they are interested in them. NOTE: This is entirely optional! You may make up your own "stories" (fanfiction) and it could be as accurate or inaccurate, or as serious or silly as you'd like. While tales of the Thesa's descendants are still being written, visitors of the Enchanted Library might find intrigue in the more complete works — KING AND KIN. If one is willing to delve deep, they may also find parts of Wyver's past that have been removed from their own archives. These pages will recount the tales of Shanrian and Rasyc. Though a lot of the narrative seems to divide at certain points in the story, it becomes obvious with some quick reading that Rasyc is not only the son of Shanrian, but that he glorifies the Wyver of old, more bloodthirsty and brutal than it is today. Unlike his father, he does not take kindly to Olympia and the threat they will always pose for their people. He has not forgotten Olympia's past sins and he believes that, in his foolish quest for peace, the king has gone soft and no longer possesses the real will to fight. His present voice in affairs of state is not a loud one, as he chooses to speak in whispers and move in the dead of silence. In these quiet murmurings, he boasts of his unwavering belief in the power and dignity of his people. Of how they should all return to what they once were — the kingdom, its citizens, and naturally the father who he had once admired greatly. Though perhaps it can be argued that any estranged son would wish the same. It's difficult to pinpoint what becomes political and what is and always will be more personal for him. But, it hardly matters. It's clear that Rasyc will stop at nothing to achieve his objectives, even if it means never returning to place he calls home. Even if it means turning his back on his own father, Shanrian, King of Wyver... DRAGONFIRE. While tales of the Thesa's descendants are still being written, visitors to the Enchanted Library might find intrigue in the more complete works. In particular, tales of Ysverai, the last of Wyver's great high dragons. Ysverai is most commonly known for being slain by Olympia’s past king and legendary hero, Nithor, but here in Khalo he is depicted in another light. Ysverai is known to the Khali people as a wise being, old as the first inhabitants that walked El Nysa. The creature spoke in the common tongue to the early settlers, guiding them to refuge when his kin began to dominate the land at the cost of its own isolation. It ultimately becomes a tale of sacrifice, for its stand with Nithor became a testament against the Olympian Empire's long reaching influence. At the bottom, there is a quotation: Your hearts will fill with greed and malice the moment my own stops beating. Take care in the Eye of the Storm. Find strength in one another, before it is too late. It seems to end there. Refugees are naturally allowed to question the natives. However, keep in mind that many of their replies will seem more like speculation than fact. But maybe that can be fun too? If you have no interest in the library and the tales they've woven, feel free to explore any of the other areas of interest. Khalo Village is thrilled to be open for you all. THOSE THAT SEEK PEACE, AND THOSE THAT SEEK --     The morning of the 20th is marked by fairly dismal weather. The sky is overcast and a downpour seems imminent. Regardless of the poor forecast, those who signed up to assist in this mission will be required to come early in order to receive their briefing. Members of Group A: ▸ Jon Snow (song_of_ice) ▸ Daenerys Targaryen (dorzalta) ▸ Loras Tyrell (triplerose) ▸ Terra (earthy) ▸ Alisaie Leveilleur (adelphoi) ▸ Solider: 76 (personalwar) ▸ Ardyn Izunia (daemonized) ▸ Mai(maipokerface) ▸ Olivier Armstrong (wallsofbriggs) ▸ Atsushi Nakajima (gekkajuu) Members of Group B: ▸ Kale (kaleorbekaled) ▸ Diana Prince (wondie) ▸ Pheonix Wright (objectionattourney) ▸ Revolver Ocelot (shashka) ▸ Frederick (pebblestone) ▸ John Sheppard (impavid ▸ Ianto Jones (torchwoodteaboy) ▸ Lena Oxton (quevarly) ▸ Allura (quintessent) Due to the rain, members of Group A will have to immediately stop by the checkpoint at the East Watchtower. Additionally, the Royal Guard and Knightryders are well-prepared with extra cloaks for those who may require it. They also will provide basic refreshments such as water and bread. People are encouraged to take what they need prior to their departure on this mission. The checkpoints are a bit far between, after all. Members of the envoy will also be encouraged to utilize this time to become familiar with one another. Maybe some introductions are in order? You never know who will end up having your back... For both groups, the paths will be relatively straightforward with evenly spaced checkpoints along the way. The only issue seems to be the downpour, really. The rain is unforgiving and the roads easily become unstable and increasingly difficult for the carriage to be drawn through. Hence, there may be more than one occasion where you will be expected to lend a hand in prying out its wheels from a particularly pesky (and muddy) pothole. Or perhaps you will be called upon by a fellow guard to assist in getting a particularly stubborn creature out of the path ahead of you. Seems like it may be a longer journey than you expected. Dirtier, too. While weathering the conditions may have been a bit tiring, this journey isn't too bad, right? Well, maybe not. GROUP A. Once the carriage gets through the worst of the terrain and finally manages to depart from the watchtower, it won't be long until the group is met with a physical roadblock. A large tree trunk will be set down the center of the road, acting as a blockade. But, before the group can react or begin crafting a plan around this obstruction, the carriage will be attacked without warning. At first, it's unclear where the attack comes from or from whom, but you don't have the leisure to deliberate this. You hear one of your fellow guards mention something about bandits frequenting these parts, but maybe there's more to it? Either way, your task is clear: protect the artifact, Nithor's skull, and fight the bandits off. You'll be encouraged to try and capture them so that they may later be turned and questioned by the authorities. GROUP B. With clear motives to restock and collect a few more materials for the carriage, it's evident that the envoy will appear restless to arrive at the second checkpoint. However, despite their unspoken delight at seeing the South Outpost from a distance, it's clear something has gone awry. There will be several hooded figures awaiting them right where the mud path meets the cobblestone of the Outpost's road. Soon, several more of these figures will come to flank them from both sides. While they seem like bandits, at least from their physical appearance, there is something far more polished in their movements. They will be attacking the envoy in concise, practiced formations. For those who are more perceptive, it becomes obvious that they are moving around and acting as decoy to one central figure. This member is likely the "leader" of their group, but no matter how one may try to close the distance between themselves and this mysterious leader, someone will constantly get in the way of that. The fighting also seems to act as a distraction since by the time everything is cleared up... only two things are missing. The leader of this group of bandits and more importantly — Ysverai's heart. NOTE: Those RNG'd to thread out the capture and questioning of the bandits will have starters below. For everyone else that signed up, you will still have the opportunity to capture the assailants even though they were not selected to thread the interrogation; you are free to make up your NPCs with the same basic guideline: they will not reveal their motive or their organization. You may turn them in to authorities (Wyver or Olympia or otherwise) or find creative ways to get rid of them. FINAL OOC NOTE     To reiterate: you may use this log as a general mingle for everything from the May Outline, including all Khalo Village activities. In other words, your top-levels don't necessarily have to be related to the prompts written here. An AC-eligible thread in which your character participates in anything mentioned in the May Outline and/or Khalo Village location page may be submitted for 2 REP POINT FOR EITHER OLYMPIA OR WYVER. SUBMIT THE THREAD FOR OLYMPIA OR WYVER HERE OR HERE RESPECTIVELY BY June 10th 11:59 PM EST. For those who participated in this month's plot-related portion, to receive IC recognition for it, a summary of the thread must be submitted HERE by June 8th 11:59 PM EST. Please direct all queries to the question thread below. Thank you, and have fun! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs ● bestiary taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp ● quest bulletin calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[summertimeblues]

What else am I good for? I've got a V8 for the motor in my mouth and a brain that ticks too quick to bother scratching and pecking paper. Plus I was never first pick for sports. If it hadn't been for radio I'd have spun my wheels out and ended up in the looney bin.

[The percentage of that Sandra would be able to parse is hovering at eighteen percent, but the sweet smoke is loosening more than just the tight binds on his muscles. It all spills out like a fountain that shot superfluous air.

As such, he doesn't see the shove coming.]

—Oof!

[Back to the pillow-nest he goes. She edges closer, hand lingering atop his chest, the touch softer than what she'd laid on his cheek when they first met mano-a-mano. Richie's smile creeps back on, followed by a smug snicker.]

It was a one way deal, Sandy. I talked and they could listen, or they could be spoilsports and change the station. More people tuned in than out, I'll have you know. My babble is a hot commodity.

[He lays his own hand atop hers. Traces the edges of those fine fingers. They're all sinew — some people had podgy hands no matter how much they worked with them, but hers were firm under the buttery slip of her skin.]

'Course if you're sick of all my yapping, there's a few ways to shut me up in person.

[Her eyes, sealed shut as always, look romantically dreamy with the lashes dusting her cheeks. He used to be unsettled by the lack of visual connection, but the more he'd popped into the Orb for chats and wine and music blasting on his turntable outside, the differences between them wiped clear. Locking gazes hardly seemed necessary now. He could see and hear and sense what she was feeling when she spoke it, when she moved, unfettered and catlike.

Having her eyes closed only made her doubly prepared for when he lifts halfway to catch her mouth in a kiss. Rash, maybe, and were this ten or twenty years ago he'd have been too gun-shy to jump to the point. But right now delays only looked like time wasted.

So he keeps it soft. One hand to her cheek. Tasting a touch of the fyrra on her lips as he dusts his own over top. Doesn't linger, in case she needs to say no.

He pulls off gently, waiting for the answer.]

[tutorb]

[ True to form, he just can't stop. It's almost impeccable. Though she cannot say she understands the full swing of his rambling, there's a certain lyrical crispness to it beneath the fyrric fugue, stream of conscious fully formed and finely honed by the time it spills off the end of his tongue. Like the business edge of a blade kept sharp, kept so for his work. ]

An everyman's jester in a portable court, [ she muses at the tail of it all, voice warmed with amusement ever threatening to overflow. ] I am sure they could not get enough. Perhaps if I had been permitted to prattle on the job, we could have been kindred spirits.

[ The implication that follows is about as subtle as a brick, but the act itself still manages to catch her off guard, to the point that her appropriately closed lids flutter as lips press up to meet hers. They meet a still-lingering smile at first, one that doesn't have long to gather its wits before they're drawn away once again, leaving her own parted with curious surprise. At the knowing crossroads of took you long enough, and the snagging thought that he would bother at all. ]

[ But fool her twice, Sandra's wits return quick enough to let out a snicker, letting her free hand mimic his in taking the side of his face. Her thumb brushes the corner of that motor mouth of his, as sensual as it is triangulating. As if his softest kiss could put a chip in the pane of their reservations, the lax of the herbal high coursing through her seems to warp it further—coaxing, at last, a reach for such simple pleasantries she had written off for centuries. ]

I do suppose too much of a good thing is wisdom well documented. [ A put upon sigh, before she sets about shutting him up. A longer, fuller kiss, lent by her vantage and by his behest, devoid of hesitation but modest enough to continue her train of thought as she draws away. ] Though I cannot say I believe you would last long through any sort of silence without bursting,

[ Her fingers splay beneath his against his chest, taking a sliver of her weight as she shifts over him. ]

There is always the possibility that you could surprise me.

[summertimeblues]

Implying we aren't somewhat already? I'm wounded Sandy, truly.

[Yeah, subtlety is overrated in the highest degree. And maybe the wait had been unseemly, but as she's likely gathered it's not from lack of interest. Richie had pondered the merits of swooping her into the crook of his arm and giving her a hell of a lot more than a kiss before this. Had planned to do so long before this, thinking on the innate privacy of the setting.

And that thought led to something like why, she's not likely to fuck off and leave him high and dry while attending business elsewhere. Then the horror of that thought took an axe to any romantic intentions he might have had. Sandra couldn't fuck off in any sense. She was a prisoner in several fashions and somewhat at the mercy of her visitors. While he has no doubts she'd make her displeasure known and known violently, or simply boot him back out of the orb if he crossed a line, making the first move now seemed gauche. It wasn't as if he'd kept popping in to visit just on the hopes that one day she'd take him to bed, or would cease contact if the pleasure was denied to him. Yet it could so easily be construed that way.

He'd been coming back around to the idea, the righteous hesitation wearing off in the last month or so. They were grown, he was sure he could rebound and mend the fences if he misconstrued her interest. He'd remained friends with previous paramours before, or women who'd taken a pass from him and shot the operation down from the get go.

Perhaps it was for the best that the drug had loosened them both up. It gave them both an excuse to shuck the old shackles. Richie grins in the precious seconds he has before she's dipping back in to kiss him a second time. The wait was long indeed, but the payoff's worth it.

Though he's still taking potshots between pecks. What gives?]

Do your worst then. I dares ya.

[She moves to the seat of his lap and he shifts his legs to make a better cushion of them. Puts a hand at her waist, obscured by linens though it might be, and deigns to go for thirds. He lets his tongue venture further, clutches the back of her head and the silken cowl of her hair as trades modesty for rising passion. She's sweet and soft, full-lipped. A good kisser, lucky him.]

Or I'll do my worst and you'll be so sickened by me you'd have to shunt me back to the outside world in nothing but my underpants.

[tutorb]

I imagine you could call it that.

[ Despite her laissez-faire approach to skimming passing memories, it isn't as if she stays "tuned in" every waking moment, to every waking thought. But it isn't as if she would have to Read to catch his interest either. Richie is a flirt with anything that gives him the time of day, blurting pet names and telegraphing winks simply a part of his being, his culture. Glancing off easy, like water off a Wyrm's back. ]

[ Even now, there is still something slippery about the thought, something that refuses so adamantly to stick. This world was so different from the one she left behind, full of so many of those that would seek to treat her as a person rather than the object that she had become, knowing well how little she had to offer in return, and he was no small exception. Still, after centuries of being used and discarded, it was simply simpler to expect as much as she could put in. Better to have loved and lost, some might say, but when one has lost and lost and lost... ]

[ He's been persistent, though. Bittersweetly so, with his friendship as much as his affections. And if she had to be honest, there were far, far easier, more comfortable, less roundabout ways to seek out a bedfellow here, than to repeatedly subject oneself to a barren and unknowable plane that had nearly snapped his sanity in his first visit. It's a fleeting notion that roughens her gloves for clinging to that thought, and along with that buzz warm in her veins, it allows her at last to sink thoughtlessly in to the pleasure of another's lips. ]

[ There they are again, and her hips shift over his as she leans up and into the deepening kiss. Wouldn't you know it, his tongue is good for more than just running his mouth at full speed after all. Fingers play across his chest, tracing the dips of his collarbones, the tendons up the side of his throat. In return, there are hands in her hair, mussing the stately topknot in which it was always tied. As he pulls away to speak, she reaches to loosen it the rest of the way, spilling her mossy dark waves well over a shoulder, nestling into the cowl neck of her raiments as she lets out a snicker. Low and weary. ]

Tell me, how long do you suppose it has been since I last had anyone? How little you would think it would take to please me, and yet you would still strive to avoid it. [ It's a terribly trick statement. Her standards have always lain somewhere around miserably impossible to meet, and yet really, it all comes down to beggars can't be choosers. ] Must we gag you? Is that the worst we can come to?