nysalogs | ❪ event ❫ khalo? can you hear me?

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❪ event ❫ khalo? can you hear me?

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!

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To Ravenclaw? Well, he supposes out of all the houses it fits. Never mind that distraction, though.

There's a sick feeling settling in Ianto's stomach at the thought of it. Raising a dragon -- well of course Olympia will be in danger if that happens. That's how the stories go, isn't it? That's what the plaques had said in the palace, anyway. Thesa's light had shone on Olympia and on that same night, the dragons fell. Thesa's light. Ianto certainly doesn't believe in religion, but it has something to do with the city, that much is certain.

"The fact that the place I've just chosen to live may be targeted by a giant undead creature of mass destruction -- but at least it's wise? No," Ianto counters, sounding a little on edge, "not really a consolation, no." He runs a hand through his hair. "We need to. Someone needs to know about this. We need to find it."

"Don't underestimate wise, wise might mean it listens if we try to negotiate. I'd take wise over angry as a descriptive."

He finishes making sure the bandit is bound, testing nothing will pull loose before pushing up to his feet again and inspecting his arm. The bandages he wound around it earlier are soaked through in a dark patch on one side, but it's dry at least. He rolls his shoulder, squinting up and around at Ianto.

"I'd put my money on them having taken it into Wyver, which means there's nothing to be lost heading in ourselves. Try and pick up the trail before it goes cold."

He supposes that John has a point, but still. He would rather that a giant creature who could potentially wipe out the entire city not be wise enough to create a plan to do so in the first place. There are plenty of citizens who aren't wise, after all.

Ianto frowns, glancing back at the carriage before at John and the way he's rolling his shoulder. It sounds reasonable, to follow them into Wyver and see if they can track anything out, but all the same.

"How's your arm?" he asks. Somehow Ianto himself had managed to escape with nothing more than mud and bruises, but John hadn't been quite so lucky, and a part of Ianto can't help but wonder if that's because his attention had been split between protecting himself and looking out for Ianto himself.

"Sore," he admits, "but I'll live."

He shouldn't be moving it as much as he is really, but there's no helping that. He squints at Ianto critically, judging the way he's moving to try and guess if he's hiding anything.

"What about you, need me to look at anything?"

There's no obvious patches of blood that he can spot, but bleeding can be internal as well as external. Just because he isn't gushing blood doesn't mean he hasn't fractured something.

"Mmm," Ianto hums, shrugging noncommittally. He isn't certain that he's really injured anywhere, but he raises a hand to his temple, just above his hairline, which comes away wet with blood. If John were to move around the other side and look hard enough, he'd be able to see a trickle where it had run down just parallel with Ianto's sideburn.

"I'm pretty sure it's stopped," he says, trying to be reassuring. "And if it were worse I wouldn't be standing here talking to you, that much I know. I don't think it's really anything to worry about."

"Oh no you don't. Sit down and let me take a look."

John moves to sit on a patch of ground and unzips his tactical vest, rolling his shoulder again and flexing his hand a little before he begins digging things out of the pockets.

"No complaints, more sitting. You're bleeding."

Bleeding could just be a shallow cut, but it could also be that through the shock Ianto hasn't realised how bad the blow is.

Ianto wants to protest but John looks so official pulling things out of his vest like he is that he can't help but wonder whether it looks worse than he realizes. Or is is it just John, and the way he has suddenly taken charge of the situation? Regardless, he shuts his mouth and moves to do as he is told.

"Really, I'm sure it's nothing," he protests, weakly, even as he sits in front of the other man and watches him fuss with the materials in his vest. "I've had worse." That at least he knows is true. Not that it's all that reassuring to be telling John he's got a history of head wounds, of course, but that's neither here nor there.

"Good, then you'll have experience shutting up and letting someone look at it."

His bedside manner might be lacking, but John pulls out his phone and activates the light -- begins carefully running his fingers around the area to test how bad the damage is.

"Feeling dizzy at all? Or sick?"

Shutting up. Alright. He supposes that he can do that, if John really insists. His eyes follow the motion of the flashlight on John's mobile, trying to keep his head steady, before wincing slightly at the pressure of his fingers.

"Not really," he replies. "Just a bit of a headache, you know." Alright so maybe he had been a little nauseous when they had first hit him, but that was probably only because it had hurt a lot. He's going to assume as much, anyway. He doesn't want to make a fuss over nothing and that's all this is. Right?

"Alright," John says softly, and lets go long enough to pull out a cloth to begin cleaning a little blood so he can see better.

"Now, I want you to tell me the name of the place you grew up in."

Memory test. Ianto might have concussion after a blow like this.

Ianto raises an eyebrow at the prompt. Aren't you supposed to ask questions that you know the answer to, so that you might know if a man is making sense or mixing up facts in his head? How is John to know whether he's telling him the truth or not? Moreover, should he tell him the truth. He's never been very good at admitting anything around his upbringing.

After hesitating longer than he probably should have, such that he's sure John is probably questioning whether he is concussed, Ianto raises his eyes to meet the other man's and admits, "Newport. I grew up in Newport." His only consolation is that John probably has no idea of what sort of connotation that carries with it.

That was a weirdly long delay for an easy starter question. John doesn't really visibly react, just continues carefully trying to clean the blood out of the way. He'll need to ask a few to be sure at this rate.

"Okay," he says, in his best soothing voice. "And what was the name of the last place you worked? Not counting this."

He's assuming it was Torchwood, though he supposes there might have been somewhere else in-between Ianto hadn't mentioned.

This is an easier answer. Less personal, and he's admitting to less in the reply since John does know what he's supposed to say anyway.

"Torchwood," he says. "Torchwood Cardiff. And before that, Torchwood London." Don't ask him to list out the positions he's had in the last five years though because before Torchwood he'd been a temp and he'd never really managed to hold anything down long. He probably couldn't remember half the places he'd been even without a blow to the head.

"Good," John confirms, and tilts Ianto's head a little to clean the trickle of blood down the side of his head. "Now, the name of the place we just left and the name of the place we were going to?"

More recent, to check both ends of the memory spectrum. He winces slightly as he dabs off the blood, not wanting to press too hard in case it hurts but wanting to make sure he's getting it clean and not missing anything worse underneath it.

These are quite a lot of questions, but Ianto supposes they're all necessary. He winces at the press of the other man's hand as well, because it does hurt, but then John's only doing what's necessary to clean him up. He'll probably have an egg on the spot underneath the cut but he doesn't think it's that bad otherwise. Is it?

"We left from Olympia," he recites, frowning at up at the other man, "and we were supposed to be on the way to Wyver, before it all went to shit anyway." He's okay, John, really he is. He studies the other man's expression before continuing, "And your name is John Sheppard, before you ask, and you're awfully handy with that you know, for a pilot."

"Good to know you're an expert on how pilots are trained. There'll be a quiz, later."

Satisfied he there's no huge great crack under the blood he lets go and sits back, holds up a finger and squints at Ianto as he moves it slowly left and right.

"Tell me how many fingers you see?"

Ianto gives the other man a look that translates into an eye roll as John not only dodges his question but makes it into a quip as well. Honestly, in some ways he’s as bad as Jack.

“One,” he answers, tiredly, before deciding to press the matter, even if John is probably going to push right back.

“So I assume that understanding concussion protocol is just standard procedure then, yeah?” he asks. “You know. Along with flight training and jumping out of planes and. The rest of it.” Honestly Ianto has no idea what it is to be a pilot in the Air Force but this does seem to be going above and beyond.

"Well they did change up the basic combat training for army folk recently to include CLS. However for the Air Force," and he finally drops his finger, tries to hold his light at a reasonable distance for the LED and watches Ianto's pupil response. "At basic training we do first aid, you know, we get the mental health awareness talks and stuff alongside cover and ethics and arms training. The reason I know you don't have concussion, however, is because I flew rescue missions."

Which, theoretically, Ianto knows. He snaps off the light, puts away his phone as he studies Ianto's expression. He's irritable, but it doesn't feel unusually exaggerated. He's been hit in the head and they've had a bad day, a certain amount of irritability is pretty much on point. John can keep an eye on him anyway, in case he's wrong.

"Don't take any Advil. Nothing with anti-inflammatory properties. Whatever passes for Tylenol here is fine. If you start feeling confused, like you're gonna vomit, or your headache doesn't go away let me know."

Flew rescue missions. Well, he had known that he had gone back for his friend and gotten in trouble for it, but it isn't quite the same thing to know that he had the training for it as well. He watches as John shines the light in his eyes and studies the other man's expression as he offers his advice, contemplating everything he's found out about the other man and everything he's still yet uncovering.

"I've got basic first aid training," Ianto replies. "You've obviously been trained for more than that."

He regards the other man for a moment longer before giving in to nod. "I'll let you know," he agrees, quietly. "I've had real concussions before. I know enough not to pretend to be fine when I'm not. I promise, alright?"

"Because I flew rescue missions," John repeats, and lofts an eyebrow at Ianto -- who seems stuck on the fact. "So I had to certify as an EMT."

He's not sure why it's so surprising. Terrible bedside manner? Terrible self-care? Not that the latter is so unusual, people with medical training make the worst patients. He wasn't exactly hiding it on purpose, it's just an overall part of things he prefers not to talk about. It's part of who he was, really, not who he is now. He doesn't fly helicopters into war-zones anymore, and Atlantis had it's own challenges that required a different focus. Most of the time. He drops his eyes away and begins putting things back into the pockets of his vest, feeling a little uneasy over the specific focus on it.

"Now, I don't have a proper first aid kit so I don't have an ice pack for you. We'll try and put something cold on it first chance we get, try not to run around too much in case you fall over and clock it again."

Certified as an EMT. Ianto flashes back to the image of the other man standing on the beach, using his wet shirt to dab salt water on his cuts, and wonders whether all of his training only really applies to his care for other people, rather than himself. Still, John has been nothing but capable as he's taken care of Ianto himself, and while his bedside manner is somewhat lacking, he's certainly had worse. Much worse, really, and Owen was a doctor. (Is a doctor. He's still up there somewhere, with the rest of the team. He has to be.)

Ianto had brought the backpack that the Natha had first supplied them with, but he's pretty sure there were no ice packs in there to start. Making a note to add it to his growing list of supplies he'll need to add to the kit, he flashes the other man a hesitant smile. "I suppose walking into doors is right out then as well, is it?"

Everything pocketed away to his satisfaction John looks up again, eyes Ianto critically.

"I wouldn't exactly recommend it, no. You telling me your coordination feels off or just jonesing for a piggyback?"

You were standing up just fine a minute ago, Ianto. He zips his vest back up and pushes to his feet, offers his good hand to haul him up as he glances around at the rest of the group. Nobody is bleeding on the floor so far as he can tell at first glance.

Jonesing. Ha. Ianto shakes his head and then winces slightly at the motion. Right, no doing that for a while, at least until the throbbing settles down.

"I'll be fine," he says, aiming for his best reassuring tone. "As tempting as the offer may be. What about your arm?" He has a feeling that the bandage that the other man has wrapped around it is only meant to be temporary, considering how hastily it was tied.

He reaches to accept the other man's help up and studies his expression once he's there. The agreement was to keep an eye on each other, remember? He may not be the best in a fight, but this fussing he can certainly manage.

His eyes drop down to his arm distractedly, then John shakes his head. He looks after other people for a living, not himself.

"I can fix it later. Haven't got a spare shirt and it'll bleed again if I start pulling this off now. It's fine."

For now. The knife was... probably clean. He can find some alcohol to pour on it or something.

That much was obvious to Ianto. But he'll take John's word for it, because he's right. He hasn't got a spare shirt and he'll probably just open it up again if he tries to take this one off now. Frowning at the blood-soaked bandage then back up at John's face again, he sighs tiredly before nodding.

"Once we get into the city then," he compromises. There will be more shirts there, after all. No need to go running around getting himself an infection just because he's on a mission. He needs the use of his arm more than they need to find the Heart straight away. Speaking of the city...

He glances down the road. They've still got something of a distance left to walk. "We'd better start moving again soon, I suppose." Not that he really likes the idea of it, but they need to make as much use of the daylight as they can.

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impavid - 2018-05-28 00:12 (UTC) - Expand

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