❪ 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

[uglybug]

[She has permission; Mantis lets her take her hand, face carefully blank even as the movement causes some discomfort. (Ego would have never allowed her to cry, not unless it benefited him somehow. She's learned to hide these things very well.)]

When Wyver's dragons turned on the city. I was knocked down in the panic. I landed badly.

[In other words, at the beginning of this whole awful affair. She's been ignoring it as best she can since -- and probably making it a bit worse as time went on.]

[baldesion]

[Even at her most gentle, there is no way to stop a little discomfort before she even starts a spell. Pale light grows in the space between her right hand and Mantis's wrist, deadening the pain and replacing it with the sense of a soft breeze white the spell does its work.]

That's quite some time to leave it untreated, I'm afraid. [But not too long, she hasn't done any permanent damage to her broken fingers.] Not that we had any time.

[About which Krile is not the least bit sour. No. No no. (She's both comforted and perturbed by how easily she's brushed aside all the trauma of what she witnessed on the surface. Just by falling into a routine.) With a soft huff she stomps firmly on that inner voice and redoubles her focus on healing.]

[uglybug]

[The pain eases under the spell and Mantis takes a deep relief-tinged breath. It wasn't bad -- certainly not enough to stop Mantis from doing as much as she did planetside -- but it had plagued her. The absence of some of the physical pain does allow some relief to creep in, allows her mind to let go of one pressing matter.

That little bit of relief is more of a gift than she expected.]

No, we did not. [Mantis angles her head to gaze into Krile's face, brow furrowed as she tries to read her expression.] Are you all right?

[baldesion]

[So reduced is Krile's endurance after days of desperation and fighting and then tending to several others on the station that she lets the question take her by surprise. What is it? Has she wobbled? Does she look as thought she might faint?

Raising her eyebrows reminds her that she is still visibly injured as well as tired. She tries to smile through it, more friendly than polite this time.]

Well enough to keep working for a little while longer. Don't worry too strongly over me, though. I know when I've reached my limits.

[Unlike. Several. Of her friends. Who may know their limits but will not acknowledge them! Chiefly when they've taken on more than they can carry in a fight...thinking of them is both exasperating and sad.]

That should hold, for now. [The sprain was easier to settle than the breaks; Mantis might still have stiff and sore fingers.] Those burns, next - if I may, of course.

[uglybug]

[Mantis doesn't question her answer; far be it from her to attempt to say when someone has met their limit or not when she does not know them. She turns her hand over and slowly flexes her wrist, sighing in relief when she's able to move it without that sharp stinging pain of just a few minutes ago. Her fingers are a bit sore, but it's already infinitely better than it was.]

Thank you. That truly is a remarkable talent. [She reaches for the burns, wincing a bit fingertips trace the edges of what look to be acid burns. They're what hurts the most; she could have almost forgotten the wrist and fingers in the face of the burns.] Of course.

[baldesion]

You're not the first I've met who isn't exactly familiar with healing spells.

[She is one of the most cooperative, though. Rather than set straight to healing again, Krile makes a bit of light in one hand, using the fingers of the other to guide Mantis's chin to turn so she can better see the damage up close. The station is well lit, of course; naught but the certainty of her own light would satisfy Krile even were they out under the sun.]

My word. What did this? [She has an idea, of course.] I can't be sure, but I don't know whether- well.

[Some people are vain about such things. Mantis doesn't strike her as one of those people, and no dissonant sense has come from her yet.]

It may scar. [For which she will not apologize, but she isn't being cavalier about it at all.] We'll hope for the best, though.

[uglybug]

[Mantis is compliant, tilting her head as Krile directs and pulling her hair aside as she does. The initial burning pain has become a duller throbbing, though it's still painful. What she can see of the burns -- where it twists around her forearm -- are angry and blistered and, as the adrenaline wears away, the pain makes itself known.]

The dragon's breath. [She'd been frozen for a touch too long in the wrong moment and this is the price she pays.]

Then it will scar. [She doesn't physically shrug, but it is in her voice. She's just too tired to care.]

[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.]

[uglybug]

[She got close enough, almost out of happenstance. In a desperate attempt to clear civilians from the battlefield, Mantis had succumbed -- if only for a moment -- to the great dragon's terrible rage. Someone had pulled her away, for which she is grateful. Had she not been pulled away, she might have stayed far too long.

She looks around her, at the people here and there. Some are tending to themselves, or others. Some are talking quietly among one or two others; still others are simply resting. The most that Mantis could do here is to provide a little contentment, to ease wartorn hearts and minds, but these are things she isn't sure that she has the wherewithal for.

Not yet. Not when she's standing on a knife's edge herself.] I will stay here. [She tears her gaze from the people around them.] I cannot help them yet.

[baldesion]

[Well! Mantis is a damn sight more compliant than any of Krile's friends, that's for certain. She won't be but a moment, hurrying off to request some things from another person running all about; fetching them herself would take time and draw off her already limited energies. But soon enough she returns with her arms full of all she'll need to clean the burns before she heals them.

It's a little insulting, that a self-proclaimed expert in purifying arts needs to resort to things like soap, but she doesn't trust any contact with that tainted creature to give way to what she can do at half strength. Nothing wrong with a few precautions.]

This won't take long. [A reassuring, tired smile.] I can help it sting less with spells while I'm working.

[And she'll start with the wicked burn across Mantis's face. True to her word, her hands make quick work of it, and she heals as she goes, the same sense of a gentle wind mixed with the purifying feeling of cool water.]