❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

[natha]

HOUR OF RUIN     Sometime after midnight, after preparations have been put aside in favor of drinks and rest, a thunderous beating of wings shatters the air — the High Dragon Ysverai, once again risen. The sound echoes high off Namarak Mountain, but travels easily to both Wyver and Olympia: scream after scream rends the still night, as though a creature were dying rather than being born again. Having only had days to plan their defense against the creature, Olympia and Wyver snatch up their arms. The Royal Guard and the Knightryders can be seen on their steeds hurrying through the cities, because Ysverai doesn't remain isolated at the mountain's peak for long. There are pictures of Ysverai in abundance throughout both cities, but the creature that circles in the sky looks nothing like the majestic creature spoken of in history books. Even from far below, wounds and lacerations can be seen marring what should be smooth scales, and blood falls with every beat of the dragon's wings. The damage becomes more clear when moonlight illuminates Ysverai, revealing the rotting dragon for all to see. The sight of flesh peeling away and thick blood where it oozes from his cracked, greyish hide is as frightening as the power he possesses. REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE     Mad from the anguish of his forced revival, Ysverai will show none of his renowned wisdom or compassion, mindless and seeking to inflict his pain onto whatever emerges in his path. His very presence creates chaos: animals (Olympia | Wyver) domesticated and wild, flee from the merest hint of his approach, panicked and stampeding in wild droves. The reason is obvious: organic matter exposed too long to his presence begins to rot and decay. A field he lands in rots and lies fallow. Buildings crack and crumble, their supports pitted and corroded as though they've been left in disrepair for years. Even the ground that Ysverai walks upon is tainted; a corrosive sludge bubbles up in his massive, clawed footsteps, the ground beneath him putrefied and toxic, oozing corruption. This sludge can be tar-like, poisonous and sucking people in like quicksand; panic, and you'll only sink faster. Prolonged exposure to Ysverai takes a mental toll on anyone in his proximity as well. Effects similar to those from being near his heart — selfish desires and lowered inhibitions — will begin to fester in those around him. Every time Ysverai roars, pain will run through all those that hear him — a pain not just physical, but of true, anguished heartbreak. Those who hear Ysverai will feel (to a degree of your choosing) a sharing of his pain, the agony of flesh rotting from their bodies, blood oozing from under their skin, and a terrible, incandescent fury — and beneath that, a gut-wrenching sadness. This effect is further enhanced by any exposure to Ysverai's blood, and being drenched in greater quantities will cause one to become more in sync with the dragon. Finally, Ysverai is aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that approaches. He starts by breathing out a smog, acidic and putrefying — characters caught directly by this attack will find that medicine and healing magic of any kind hurts them for hours after exposure. The dragon will ignite the smog to breathe fire, if sparingly. IN WYVER     Ysverai's shadow falls over the near reaches of Wyver first. Upon hearing Ysverai's cry, the dragons in Wyver become completely frenzied, turning against their partners among the Knightryders without the slightest resistance. Those familiar with dragons might deduce that they're in pain, though they don't show any sign of injury. The dragons knock their riders off their backs in midair and dive at citizens, jaws wide. Any attempts to soothe them will be long fought, achieved with great difficulty, and will see them retreat into a cowering state. It's not just the airborne Knightryders taking to the defense of the city however, and people on the ground are mobilizing as well. On rooftops across the city are cannons set to fire harpoons. And if the spearheads alone aren't enough to injure the beast, they're coated with a paralyzing poison as well. Unfortunately, the soldiers stationed on the rooftops are prime targets to the frenzied dragons populating Wyver's skies, leaving the cannons open for ordinary citizens to use should they choose. Left alone too long, and cannons may fall under the control of the few remaining radicals that had opted not to flee the cities to join up with their leader Raysc, choosing instead to wait for an opportune moment to unleash their anger on the people of Wyver. These radicals will need to be dealt with before they can turn the cannons upon Wyver's defenders. IN OLYMPIA     In Olympia, the gryphon partners of the Royal Guard react with immediate hostility to anyone showing signs of Ysverai's influence. Their keen senses allow them to pick up the smell of Ysverai's blood and they attack anyone with so much as a drop of tainted blood on them. Those who bear lingering effects of Ysverai's mental attack and who remain in sync with the dragon after hearing Ysverai's cry are also targeted and must face the gryphons' wrath without mercy or restraint. The gryphons must be disabled, for Olympia will not look upon any injury to their prized steeds lightly. However, the gryphons also show some resistance to Ysverai's cry, which is a great boon in battle against the dragon — gryphons that have lost their riders will be available for use, able to carry two passengers at a time. The people of Olympia aren't planning to restrict their offense to pure brute force, and the mages of the city can be seen across Olympia wielding enchanted chains, using telekinesis in the hopes of restraining Ysverai and assisting in the airborne troops. But like the decaying buildings and wildlife, Ysverai is warping the magic around him, the chains faltering as they approach him, whipping back toward the city instead to cage whoever happens to be closest. It's not just the enchanted chains either, but other magic might behave erratically in his presence, as if the very essence of the spells have been corrupted. VIRTUOUS VERSE     Both cities realize they need to seek survival rather than victory against Ysverai, switching gears to carry out diversion efforts and evacuation plans. It falls to refugees to continue the offensive while the Royal Guard and the Knightryders devote their attention to ensuring the safety of the citizens as they flee. With official forces stretched thin, civilians and refugees alike will also need to step up to help herd citizens toward safety among a maze of collapsing buildings. Others will need to see to gathering resources for the evacuation, and while gathering non perishables is easy enough, it's considerably harder to wrangle livestock into cooperating amidst such chaos. Those fighting may be asked to act as bait for Ysverai. Chatter through official troops speaks of a switch in strategy: the objective now is capture the dragon's attention and draw him away from the populous cities and towards the South Outpost. Whether or not it's possible to defeat the dragon remains uncertain, but there's no question that it will be easier to battle him without worrying about civilians. THE RAGE     Luckily, the dragon is indiscriminate in his rage, and easily lured so long as a suitably infuriating target is before him. It doesn't take long to draw him to the South Outpost, but the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake is vast. Once there, the combined forces are greeted not just by Ysverai, but also by the appearance of Ysverai's master. How bravely you've all come to meet your doom! Great heroes, one and all, ha! I welcome you, bring your best. Show me the power that's protected Olympia and Wyver, all that you have to offer me, whatever pitiful excuse for valor you seek to cling to when the fear has you cowering in your beds. All will be for naught in the face of Ysverai's might! Let history witness the day the glory of war is reignited — the day that Wyver remembers its fangs once more! Come, Ysverai, last and greatest of the High Dragons! Come, and restore Wyver to its rightful place! Come, fulfill the promise as our protector that you could not in life! Raysc lifts a gleaming device as he issues his command. Red lights blink and blood, the same oozing liquid that drips from Ysverai's many wounds, runs in clear tubes through the device. Ysverai rears back as Raysc makes adjustments to a control panel — and then lunges forward, mouth agape. With a single swallow, Raysc meets his end. Raysc's attempt to control the dragon has only enraged him further, spurring Ysverai on to new heights of fury. It's become more vital than ever to face the dragon and take him down here and now. A few effective strategies are learned from research efforts and observed while defending Olympia and Wyver: goading the dragon into breathing fire will hurt him, burning him from the inside out, and attacks to his joints, eyes, wings, and exposed bone are effective. Ice is a natural repellent to dragons and can be used defensively or to weaken the dragon's hide. Healing spells will also react unnaturally to Ysverai's flesh, hastening his decay. However, while concentrated efforts will lock him down, Ysverai cannot be permanently killed in this state — his flesh constantly rots and spawns anew. Attacking him here is to protect civilians, keeping him busy to avoid mass destruction elsewhere. Therefore, the battle is one of attrition, a matter of a race against time. You must destroy his flesh faster than it is able to regenerate to have any hope of victory. Finally, when Ysverai is weakening, little more than bones with a few last vestiges of rotten meat hanging from a skeleton, the pathetic remnants of the last High Dragon takes to the skies. His wings are barely intact enough to carry him, yet desperation lifts him, higher and higher, until he lets out one great, earth-shaking roar. A roar that carries across the battlefield, sending all who hear it to their knees. A roar that shatters the swords in soldiers' hands, that rends apart the very air itself — Ysverai's last act, a great curse upon El Nysa, to bring down the sky. AND THE WORLD STOOD STILL     The terror of Ysverai's destruction hangs overhead — a tear in the sky, darkness pouring through, tendrils reaching down towards El Nysa to swallow up the planet in the dragon's final act of revenge. And yet nothing moves. A halo of brilliant light surrounds the rift in the sky, holding the grasping, hungry tendrils in check. And on the planet, not a creature moves. Not a blade of grass stirs. You're not able to even draw a breath. No matter where you are, not even the heart in your chest is beating. Everything has stopped — time has come to a standstill. In a wash of light, an aurora of transport, you find yourself delivered to Thesa Station. Darma stands before you, her expression solemn, perhaps even grim, though that may just be a trick of the station's harsh lighting. She explains what has happened in short order: planetside, time has been completely frozen. We have seen the birth and end of worlds. The rise and fall of civilizations infinite times over. We have seen all threads of possibilities that could have lead to this very moment... Or should have. Perhaps you might doubt our sincerity when we say this comes as a surprise to us, as well... Special technology has been used to blind us. To this day, we only know of one region capable of creating and utilizing such technology... you will find this technology in a city known as Nadril. We understand that you have created a life down in Wyver and Olympia, but now we must ask that you put that life on pause. We ask you to travel to Nadril and find the original Refugee, and with him, answers. As you will discover, he does not wish to speak to us. It is no matter. By now it is too late to keep the Nysan public unaware of our existence. We commend the efforts of those who wish to protect their comrades on the battlefield below, but a creature like poor Ysverai, twisted and warped, given unnatural life with terrible magic and technology, does not simply go down with manpower. Please, leave Ysverai to us. Time on the planet will remain stopped while we determine how to deal with the dragon. For now, rest and recover your strength. We have returned, and soon, there will be new refugees awakening. Perhaps you might like to prepare yourselves to greet them? I'm sorry that I can't answer more questions, but for now, all our attention must turn to finding a way to stop what Ysverai has wrought. A bank of monitors behind Darma displays the battlefield below: Ysverai's frozen, looming figure and the breach in the sky, and the Natha's halo, holding the destruction back. Though time passes normally on Thesa Station, El Nysa remains frozen, and all Refugees are unable to return to the planet until Ysverai's menace is dealt with. Luckily, with the Natha's return, full functionality has also returned to the station. The lights and environmentals are back to full power, access to all areas has been restored, the cafeteria is serving its normal offerings, and there's no evidence of any glitching or malfunctions. Doubtless, the period of rest is much needed after the hard-fought battle. For now, with time on El Nysa at a standstill, there's little else to be done but enjoy the reprieve aboard Thesa Station. FINAL OOC NOTE     Characters that reach an AC length action thread in this event will receive 2 rep for all factions, including Natha. Note that while these are split up for ease of processing, players may submit for all three. OLYMPIA | WYVER | NATHA Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month. 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

[poolhall_killer]

[So cheeky at a time like this. Probably part of the reason why Venom likes having Anders as a friend. He swipes at some of the falling debris, making sure the mage has his balance back.]

Please don't encourage him. He might hear you.

[He starts summoning balls one after another, ready to counter as needed.]

[poolhall_killer]

You've done more than you think.

[Letting him borrow Pess is one of them as he's starting to feel better already. And they can talk about their indiscretions another time. When this is all over they can go out for drinks and talk.]

I hope so. Just when I was turning myself around, too...

iii.

[assailed]

[ He left the dragon slaying to his wife. He's more than capable of doing damage when he's in his element, but he knows he can help other people. He can do his best to get people to safety if need be. He has all the faith in the world in his wife when it comes to dragons. When they do show up in the station he's thoroughly confused. It takes some time for him to locate his wife, but he knows she won't simply sit still. She'll look for everyone she cares about until she hunts them down.

Killian has let her do that and he's gone hunting for some she knows as well. The ones he's at least vaguely aware of and told about. He doesn't know Gamora, but she looks alarmingly similar to how his wife did. Though she's far less in motion. He observes her gaze remaining on the stars. The idea of being among them in a process he had not considered until he was brought up here during the storm. He's still not quite used to the notion, but he finds the less he looks out the less conflicting it becomes.

His approach his cautious. He's not certain what sort of state of mind she might have after everything. ]

You look at them so freely. I find the longer I look out at them the more adrift I feel.

[ Which isn't something he's ever thought about the ocean when at sea. Yet this is far different. The stars are quite odd now. He folds his hand and his hook over his chest with a simple shrug. ]

It's very bloody odd.

[baldesion]

I know of no simple way. Shouldn't he have a rider about?

[The chances are high that something unthinkable happened to said rider, but Krile might still hope.]

Our chances of locating someone more familiar with them are just as slim, you're going to say. [A quick shake of her head.] But what other alternatives could we pursue?

[punshots]

Heh...nah, I get it, it's not for everyone.

[ It hadn't started out as something pleasurable for him, anyway. He just built out the habit and now if he goes too long without doing it...he finds he misses it. ]

Just don't judge me too hard if you see me jogging around while we're stuck up here.

[ ...However long that may end up being for. ]

[baldesion]

[Gods, she got close enough to face his very breath? Lucky thing she didn't get any closer, then, if this is what a brush with it will do. Knowing that, though, Krile isn't quite content with simple healing, or even rather complex.]

Any wounds resulting directly from that monstrosity ought to be cleaned first. Do you mind staying here but a moment? I know you would rather help the others.

[But even the voice of the dragon's carcass was enough to claw poison into her thoughts and send long jolts of pain across her nerves, and she came nowhere near him at all.

Where with others she has been and will be much less yielding, though, Krile is rather gentler in speaking to Mantis. Something is off about her, she gives the sense of careful fragility even though she is clearly trying very hard not to.]

[punshots]

[ He's not prepared to shove down as much emotion as this brings on—he never could be, for how it has torn him up inside, how it haunts his every moment and alters his every word. No matter how he may heal eventually, he is forever changed now, and no matter how he tries to hold it in, the signs of his turmoil are everywhere on him. So really, it's a mercy that Rosalind takes his hand, that he doesn't let him fight that losing battle. It saves him the heartache, and she doesn't try to force eye contact, which saves him the shame. His gaze drops down to their joined hands as well, her fingers to which he holds to like an anchor to keep him afloat, rooted to this spot.

And then he listens, while those tears slip heedless down his cheeks. He hadn't realized it at first, but...she is the perfect person to talk to about this, isn't she? She's died before. She knows exactly what it's like, and that moment she describes is imprinted on his heart indelibly. It's funny, how what could have only have been a handful of seconds had seemed to stretch into eternity. It had been so sudden, so violent, he hadn't a chance to prepare for death at all, but it struck him down, all the same, and in those final moments, he'd thought of those very things, of the life he had lived, and the life he would no longer live.

Except that he is alive. He's here, and he's glad, and it still feels so wrong.

He lifts his eyes to hers, eyes twisted with wretched agony, but his voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper. ]

Does it get easier?

[ Will he ever stop feeling like he shouldn't be breathing? ]

[baldesion]

Better?

[Above all she feels strange. The headache is completely gone, and she ought to be thankful for that alone; the dragon's next roar hardly touches her. A woman of lesser constitution might collapse in relief.

Krile looks at her hands, instead, then sharply up at Ren.]

I hardly feel anything at all.

[punshots]

[ Something lighthearted, though Prompto doubts she would pick a story too devastating or sad in light of recent events, anyway. They all need to focus on better, brighter things right now, don't they? ]

Think you can hit me with some sort of swashbuckling story with a dash of romance on the side?

[ Those are his favorite kind, admittedly. ]

[thunderblight]

[ So focused is she on inflicting as much damage as quickly as possible, that Urbosa doesn't register the flailing of the dragon's tail until Jim calls out to her. As it is she lets off one last parting shot prior to beating a hasty retreat before Ysverai can flatten her like a pancake. ]

We need to ground it. [ Urbosa's tone is brisk and businesslike. Banter certainly has its place, but it doesn't belong here. Not now. Not with so many lives lost. ] It's too mobile to pin down otherwise.

[ As if they all aren't running on fumes and desperation at this point; the dragon's regenerative qualities outstrips any damage they're able to deal to it, including the electrical burns from Urbosa's lightning. What a nightmare. ]

[punshots]

[ This is easier to talk about, at least, even if...Prompto wasn't there to witness Ysverai roaring a rift into the sky, or to hear the Natha's message. He's gathered enough just from being here again that they must've saved him, though he can't help but wonder what Alphinaud means by impeccable timing.

Not that he's about to ask. He doesn't want to make it so obvious that he's so out of the loop. He should know what's going on, but he doesn't. ]

Yeah. They...can't keep us up here forever, can they?

[ They had lives down on El Nysa, even if they were lives built on lies. And there's still all the people down there—they can't abandon them to fate and seek refuge on this station for the rest of their days.

Even if that may be safer. Perhaps the Natha should have researched the planet they were dropping refugees onto a bit more thoroughly... ]

[punshots]

[ Oh, shit. He didn't really think through the part that comes after firing on the dragon, but the building starts to groan beneath his feet, and that's not terribly reassuring. He hops away from the cannon to join John at his side, peering down into the street and then looking wildly towards the rooftop he indicates. ]

Roger that! [ He aims his gun down into the street, firing on the throng of radicals below, and winds back a few paces as if he's about to jump—but then he seems to think better of it. ]

Up for a little rooftop race?

[ Yes, he's suggesting they go full Assassin's Creed on this. ]

[punshots]

[ He has a minute. Too many of them, if he's honest, and he kind of envies Duo in that he has something to keep him preoccupied up here. There...isn't really much for Prompto to do besides check in on his friends. That, oooor face his trauma, and he's not about to do that, so checking in on friends it is.

He grins at Duo as he drops down onto the ground in front of him, weary but earnest. ]

You're gonna love these. How'd...everything turn out for you planetside, by the way?

[ He seems fine. Definitely not as shaken as he was after the kidnapping incidents. But still...none of them are really "okay" right now. ]

[punshots]

[ He'll put up with that sass, if only because he's rather used to it on the battlefield, and it's almost...nostalgic, in a way. But he doesn't dwell on the feeling long, instead turning a grin on her that fades into focus as he looks back to the dragon, weapon at the ready in case the beast should decide to attack.

She's right, though. These dragons...they're not themselves. Prompto has lived in Wyver for months now. These were the mounts of the Knightryders, not the same kind of savage beast that Ysverai is. If they're lashing out, it's not of their own accord.

But what can they do? ]

Think your right. So do we knock it out?

[ Knocking a dragon unconscious seems more difficult than killing it outright, but it would feel wrong to kill it. ]

[punshots]

[ Oh. He really ought to be more careful about where he's going, he nearly bumped her right over, but his mind has seemed to be moving through molasses lately, slowing to a crawl anytime he stops to think about his current situation too long, or anytime he dips into his memories. Basically...all the time since he woke up. It's hard not to feel detached and distracted constantly, though running into Krile brings him back into his mind, somewhat.

Here's someone he hasn't checked up on yet that he should have, and immediately the guilt swells. What happened to her down on the planet after....after he was gone? What happened to all of them? He's been trying to fill in the holes, but it's difficult without giving himself away, without bringing up unpleasant memories for everyone. Gods, it's all such a mess, isn't it?

No one is well. ]

H-hey, Krile. [ A smile flickers like candlelight on his face. ] Where're you off to? I-I don't wanna keep you.

[originallutece]

Yes.

[And given who she is, how blunt and honest she is, he'll know she's telling the truth.]

Just as any great change in your life slowly becomes mundane. It will take a while-- a long while-- before you grow used to it. It will prey on the edges of your mind, and come to the forefront when you least expect it. And at night . . .

I stopped sleeping because of the nightmares.

Unfortunately, you can't take that route. But they'll abate, sooner or later. And you'll realize at some point you barely think about it anymore, save for when people discuss death. Because that's when you'll remember what you've gone through, and what it was like, and how little idea any of them has.

[She pulls one hand free, reaching to cup his cheek and stroke her thumb there, wiping the tears away.]

But it isn't a curse. Dying was awful, but the chance to live again? Savor it. Savor the fact you were given that chance.

[thetaintedsorrow]

[It’s such a relief to finally feel the layers of grossness coming off his skin, and while Chuuya is still going to take a long, hot shower later, this will do for now. His poor hair is in much worse shape than the rest of him, it seems, at least on the outside.]

...it’s mostly an ache inside.

[A result of being torn apart from the inside out by the true form of his own ability, no doubt.]

It can’t be that bad, right? Or I wouldn’t be talking.

[Right? Chuuya has no idea how that kinda thing works.]

What about you? Did you see the dragon up close?

[torchwoodteaboy]

Ianto doesn’t really understand what’s happening until John is grabbing him, tugging him sideways and back, and fitting him back against him. He has a half second’s thought to wonder if maybe he should have taken off his shoes as well before deciding that he just doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, not if John’s holding him in place like he is. He’s pretty sure that the other man should even be able to feel the quickening of his breathing, his heart rate, while he adjusts to the position and — John deposits a guitar in his lap.

He turns to glance at the other man over his shoulder, his face certainly flushed now, before he rests his hands tentatively on the guitar. “Well. I’m certainly willing to give it a try,” he offers. His lips quirking again in another half smile before he challenges, “At your leisure.”

[punshots]

[ It takes him a moment to respond as Prompto cards through his recent memories, piecing together what might've happened, how he wound up in the stream with Alisaie. She is searching his face, analyzing him like she's looking for something in him that shouldn't be there, but...why, exactly? He remembers....Ysverai's blood, and he'd felt so sick. Sick to his stomach, dizzy, and then Alisaie had arrived, holding him, taking care of him, and then he—

He draws in a gasping, shuddering breath as his eyes fly wide, dropping from her face down to her hip, where blood seeps into her damp clothing. Oh, gods, he'd been—he'd been so angry, so sad, and then he pulled his gun on her, and—he'd pulled the trigger.

He'd done this.

To say he is stricken would be an understatement, Prompto looks positively horrified, eyes wide and dizzy, face pale, as he releases his hold on her, like by their very contact he might hurt her again. Instead, his hands move to hover around her hip, like he wants to do something to help, but is entirely uncertain of what to, and all he can do is tremble and whimper in the depths of his terror, voice gone weak and petrified. ]

F-fuck—I-I-I—I d-did—oh, gods—

[ Panic lights him up and burns him, leaving little else behind. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Jim, please. [Some of the exhaustion is catching up to her, and her empty stomach isn't appreciative of the thought of a casserole, either.]

[romancekiller]

I guess we're all pretty much the same after what happened, huh? [clarke just gives her a half smile in response] I felt the same realizing we were brought back to the station— it definitely is pretty surreal all things considered.

[punshots]

[ He does his best to hold as still as possible, though the hissing from the dragon makes him jump a little. He can't help it—he's always been nervous being so close to monsters like this, especially without his weapon drawn, but he knows the aim here isn't to kill. These dragons aren't their enemies. They were friends before Ysverai rose, and they will not betray them now. ]

Y-yeah. [ And quickly his moves, his hand feeling along the dragon's jaw until he can feel the tendon there, his fingers firm but gentle against it. ] I got it.

[romancekiller]

Yeah, definitely not— what did you have in mind?

[judicia]

( It could have been a lot worse. Anders could have shouted something vulgar and given everyone else in the vicinity secondhand embarrassment. He throws a short glance over his shoulder, smiling slightly in spite of the pain. )

What is he going to do? Spit fire at me?

( He dashes out of the way before the stone floor could break apart underneath him. Ysverai lashes out with his tail, whipping it back and forth in an attempt to swat him away. )

I need to get a lot closer than that. ( He's not used to being the one to call the shots in battle, but he thinks he has an idea. ) Why don't you hit him from one side while I hit him from the other?

[romancekiller]

[clarke looks at the dish in slight awe and hearing his question she shakes her head] No allergies— I've just never had tried anything like that before.