nysalogs | ❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

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❪ event ❫ hour of ruin

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.

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[He knows. Just, for some reason she can't pinpoint, he won't say the words. Maybe his mind is that muddled.]

I don't know Reek. I know you, Theon, and I know you know me. I know you know I would never, ever hurt you. You've never had anything to fear from me. [She'd reminded him of these things so recently that saying them again feels odd, but he needs to hear it.

Maybe he'll always need to be reminded.]

I've been helping you. Do you remember that?

[ He shakes his head sharply, doing his best to shake off that other name, his true name. He knows she’s right, but he can’t bring himself to fully emerge from the darkness just yet. It feels safer there.

Of course I remember. I know you won't hurt me. I know you wouldn't. ]

Please stop.

[ He’s almost pleading as he buries his fingers back into his hair, tugging anxiously at the messy white locks. ]

I’m not Theon. I’m just Reek. That’s all.

You told me that you'd prefer to lose your head than lose your name again, and your name is not Reek. It's Theon. [She doesn't want to press, but she remembers how desperately he didn't want to... be this, she supposes. This poor creature.] I know things are terrifying right now, but I need you to come back, Theon.

[They're safe--for the moment--but sooner or later they'll have to do more than sit and wait.]

Please.

Stop. Please stop.

[ He can’t suppress the sob that breaks in the back of his throat, or the way his shoulders shake as his grip on his hair tightens. Just like that, he’s pulled back. He doesn’t want to be, but he is, and there are tears welling in his eyes. ]

I know what I said. I know. Just—I want—please just let me be him for awhile.

[ He doesn’t want to be Reek. Not truly. He never wants to forget his name or who he is again, but the world is too much for him right now. When he returned from stasis, he was returning to something familiar. Now, there’s nothing but chaos. ]

No.

[She can't let him be Reek, even if he's terrified. It may seem easier to be him now, but it's not worth the price of his self. Claire is stubborn, but never has she been physically forceful with Theon--until now, when she moves closer to pull him to her, as if she could protect him from all the things that have him so scared right now with arms wrapped around him.]

Please.

[ He doesn’t pull back this time. Not only is he shaking too much to muster up the strength, but he’s more Theon than Reek again, thinking too clearly and too aware of the tears streaming down his face.

You’re the weak one, he chides himself angrily. You always were.

He unwinds a hand from his hair to dry his eyes, only to be reminded that he’s still wearing Robb Stark’s gloves. That doesn’t help. It only serves to twist his stomach into knots and wrench another sob out of him. ]

Fuck dragons.

[ If they get back planetside, he will not be visiting Wyver any time soon. ]

[As much as she'd like to hold him until the shaking and the tears subside, she doesn't. There are more important things, and when she pulls back enough to grab his shoulders, her voice is firm.]

Tell me your name.

[If he can't meet her eyes, she'll put her fingers under his chin and make him do so.]

Who are you?

[ He doesn’t want to say. He allows her to lift his chin, but he still doesn’t make much eye contact. He’s too busy drying those ridiculous tears, hating himself for letting them happen to begin with. ]

It doesn’t matter.

[ He truly doesn’t want to say. He doesn't want to admit that Theon Greyjoy is still so weak and pathetic. ]

It matters. Tell me.

[She doesn't care that he's crying. Not in the way he does.]

Theon.

[ He mumbles, casting his gaze downward. He feels small and pitiful now, weaker than he did even back in the Dreadfort. ]

I’m Theon.

[There. That's all she needs. Claire nods, the faintest of smiles on her lips. He can be brought back. Always. She's just got to figure it out with him.]

That's my boy, Theon. [And just like that, she's softer, and her hands no longer work to keep him in a position, but move to his face to wipe away some of the tears. Her handkerchief is filthy, and her fingers only a little cleaner, but the care is the same. It's less of an attempt to tidy him up and more of a hope to soothe him.] You're all right. Good lad.

You have to know your name.

[He told her that.]

[ You have to know you name.

He nods slowly and finally allows himself to glance up hesitantly, swiping once more at his tears before letting his hands fall into his lap to twist anxiously together. He feels disgusting and ashamed now, having let himself sink so far that he had begged to be Reek.

You have to remember your name, he repeats. No matter what. No matter how frightened you are. ]

It's just easier sometimes.

[ His voice is quiet, as it had been when he first returned from stasis. ]

Not to be Theon at all.

I'm sorry, Theon.

[Sorry for not being there, for having to push him so hard he begged, for many more things out of her control. Claire drops her hands from his face, but lets one rest over those wringing hands. Not to stop him, but to keep that bridge of touch there.

Some time ago her nails regrew enough that she no longer felt the need to hide her fingertips with gloves. It seems silly, now.]

Are you all right?

[ He’s not, not really. It’s a struggle, knowing how easy it can be to shift like that. Knowing that Theon can simply disappear and someday, he might not return simply because he doesn’t want to.

All the same, he nods, his eyebrows knitted together. ]

I’m fine.

[ But why are you apologizing?, he wonders vaguely in the back of his mind. I should be apologizing. I’m the one who caused all this trouble. ]

I’m—I’m sorry.

[ He blinks, still trying to set himself right, but then he jumps. His eyes grow wide and he looks panicked as he glances around wildly, like he's suddenly remembered something. ]

The dogs...I forgot the dogs...

[At least he can still churn out that default response. She's about to tell him not to apologize. They're all terrified. They're all trying to cope with what's just happened. But then he's talking about the dogs, and Claire shakes her head, giving one of his hands a squeeze.]

No one has their pets here. I imagine they're... frozen, like the rest of the world below. [Safe, in a way.] Don't fret about them now. Just worry about yourself.

[ He shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair. It’s clear that he isn’t fine. There’s still terror in his eyes, and he’s growing increasingly concerned about things that aren’t himself. ]

Sansa. Where is Sansa?

[ He’s already run into Ramsay, of course, and if they’re all here together…That doesn’t exactly bode well. ]

[It's an effort to remain calm when she'd love to similarly panic. Claire succeeds, at least on the outside.]

She's safe. No one here is going to let anything happen to her. I promise.

[And as much as she'd like, she can't stay with either of them all the time.]

Let's get you some food and water and then I'll bring you to her.

She’s not.

[ He can feel himself wanting to shrink away once more, but he knows that will do no good. Claire will just pull him back. It’s better to stay where he is.

Theon, he forces himself to remember, even through his panic. Your name is Theon. You were a prince of the Iron Islands. You have a sister. You had two brothers.

Shaking, he tries to take a deep breath. He doesn’t want food or water. He just wants to stop feeling like a man torn in two. ]

Lord Ramsay—he’s here as well.

I know he's here. [Ideally, he's rotting from the inside out thanks to the dragon, but that would be too convenient.] She's around plenty of people, her own friends and mine. Ramsay will be obliterated if he's that foolish.

[A part of her hopes he'll be just that foolish.]

But... I would feel better if you were with her. Keep an eye on her. I can't be with you both because there are injured that I need to attend to, at least until the healers can get to them. I need you to keep Sansa safe for me.

[And she, him. Maybe giving Theon this task will help him keep it together. Or, maybe it'll make matters worse. Claire isn't sure.]

You and Sansa are two of the most important people to me. I need you both to be safe.

[ He frowns, looking doubtful. He can hardly keep himself together, and he already seems to be a magnet for Ramsay whenever he’s out of Maximus or Claire’s sight.

You don’t need me to keep her safe at all, he thinks, suspicious. It’s the other way around. You’re afraid I’ll do something stupid.

Still, Ramsay is…oddly smart. Smarter than Theon recalls. He was always clever to a certain extent, but this Ramsay seems to be more in control of his temper and his urges. It’s terrifying, but it does offer some sort of relief. He won’t try anything in such a crowded place. Surely he wouldn’t. The last time he had pulled his knife, they had been alone. ]

I don’t know what I can do.

[ He has no weapons, and no other means of keeping anyone safe. He knows Claire is needed with the injured, though. He isn’t going to tell her no. ]

I’m—I’m nothing. I can do nothing.

Your presence alone will be a comfort to her. I know it. It'll be fine as long as we don't hide in a corner and give him the opportunity to do something.

[That's about all they can do at this point. Claire takes a deep breath, hating that fact.]

Once I'm done, we'll stick together. All right?

[ Still, he looks doubtful, but he nods.

You saved Jeyne Poole, he tries to force himself to remember. You can stay calm enough to stay with Sansa.

In truth, he isn’t so sure. His mind and heart are both still racing, and he can’t still his hands from wringing together. He nods once more, though. “No” is not an answer. ]

All right. I'm...I'm sorry.

I should be the one apologizing. I'm so sorry you were [are, have been, might forever be] so frightened. I should have been here.

[He's no child but there's no denying the pool of guilt in her belly. She's felt it before. So many times she wasn't there for Brianna, too busy at the hospital, unable to hand off her patients to anyone else or unable to step away because she was a woman in a man's field and couldn't afford it. It had almost been fatal when a frustrated babysitter left Bree unattended when Claire was (once more) late. She'd been struck by a car searching for her mother. Where were you?

A few bumps and scrapes were enough for Claire to consider leaving her career behind. Seeing Theon, seeing Reek, is almost enough to make her want to say to hell with everyone else and stay with him.]

I'm sorry.

[ He seems puzzled by that, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as though to ask are you daft? He would likely ask out loud, if he were in a better mindset, but all he can do is shake his head. ]

You don’t understand.

[ He’s always frightened of something, whether it be the creaking of the floorboards in his own home, the concept of pain, or Ramsay himself. In a way, he thinks the only people who could possibly understand to any real extent are Jeyne Poole and Sansa Stark, but he doesn’t know how to put the concept of Reek into words. He doesn’t know how to explain the way that creature lurks in the back of his head, both something he dreads and something he looks to for safety. ]

I didn’t want to be me. I didn’t want to be Theon. You couldn’t have helped.

[ They both know how stubborn he is. ]

[No, she doesn't understand. She's not sure she wants to. She shakes her head.]

I got you to come back. [With some tears and sobs, but that's beside the point.] If I'd been here, been here sooner...

[Who knows. He should have never been tortured into Reek, never should have crawled under that rock here, even if it had only been minutes. Claire starts to run her hands through her hair, but one catches, and so she abandons the motion entirely. She needs a shower and food and sleep but she knows none of those things are happening anytime soon.

She presses her lips together before speaking more firmly.]

Reek is never better than Theon. And that is the last time I will ever say that name. You are capable, and you have survived everything pushed upon you thus far. Sansa told me you saved her. That may not have been this you, but it was Theon that did it.

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