❪ 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

[revlon]

[ The wry smile that quirks the corner of her mouth is short-lived, but genuine — none of them are ever in the thick of it intentionally. They go where the job is, they go where they're needed. Up until this point, Peggy had been charging the front lines with the best of them, but a dragon the size of the bloody sky was a fight she knew she shouldn't attempt to win. It's not that she considers herself useless in that regard, only that she'd be more useful elsewhere.

She listens quietly, looks down at her tea. She takes it black these days; years of wartime rationing meant she'd acquired a taste for tea without milk or sugar. Some things will always be part of you. ]

When the Luftwaffe came for our cities, we evacuated people to the countryside — mostly children. They called it Operation Pied Piper. They were safe out there with nothing of strategic value to bomb. But on El Nysa... [ She shakes her head. ] Where could we have gone if the Natha hadn't intervened? [ It's a rhetorical question. There was nowhere the natives could have gone, except take them up to Thesa with them. ] For better or for worse, the cat's out of the bag now.

[willrevile]

[ (He thinks about the sad story about the kids who died-- no, that's not what he was supposed to take from it, was it? About them going into another world in a closet when they were taken from the war. Jim has an odd way of remembering; the name escapes him. Kidlit was always a struggle for him, even as a child.)

Rhetorical or not, ]

We might have eventually worn it down, [ Jim says with a sigh, ] but there'd have been a small handful of survivors, and the viable earth left on the island chain would have been destroyed entirely. That's to say, if it hadn't done whatever it did there - open us up to the Storm? I have no idea.

[ Jim rubs a hand over his face, tired. ]

What do you want to bet that Voss and his mystery companion are out looking for the same person we're going to be?

[revlon]

[ CS Lewis won't publish his first novel about Narnia for another three years after Peggy's time. But she's always preferred poetry and Shakespeare to anything that might remind her of the war. She exhales in answer to his comment about the Storm; it certainly looked like it, but how could it be? The Natha couldn't stop it from taking over their own worlds, just pulled them out.

So what the hell was Ysverai was trying to do? ]

What makes you think that?

[willrevile]

Mmmph... [ Jim shrugs. ] Everything? The timing, what Voss said, what Darma said. The native figurehead most dedicated to learning about the refugees and their place in this world goes off to search for answers. Now we're going to go and do the same thing. Granted, our questions are going to end up a little more pressing.

[ The whole fate of the entire planet thing. ]

Nadril. Hidden in the fog, or somewhere else, do you think?

[revlon]

Somewhere north, I imagine. Far as I can tell, Wyver is the southernmost point of the Isles and no one has ventured out beyond the fog. No one who's come back, at least.

[ And isn't that a fun thought. ]

I can't imagine why Darma would ask us to find this refugee, whoever he is. She made it sound as though he had answers the Natha couldn't provide. [ She shakes her head and takes a sip of tea before looking over at him, the corner of her lips quirked in a small, faint smile. ] But it looks like we were right. We weren't the first.

[willrevile]

That's the sticking point, isn't it. No one who's come back.

[ But with these small revelations, can they really believe anything the Natha have told them about the planet?

Nope. ]

I think ... Rasyc must have found him, [ Jim says slowly, theorizing. Finally taking a drink of his tea somewhere in there. ] If the original refugee has access to technology that can endrun the Natha, maybe it was stolen. Maybe something happened to set a precedent about why we're not trusted with everything.

[revlon]

[ Peggy goes quite still at that, gaze sharpening even as it shifts ever so slightly off him; she's clearly thinking. ]

Now there's a thought, [ she murmurs, her mind already racing miles ahead. ] Nadril could be an old refugee settlement that's kept to itself all this time. Khalo was reclusive until recently, it's not a stretch. That could be the reason why we didn't hear about it on the surface but the Natha are aware of its existence.

[ She pauses, taking another sip of her tea. It's far-fetched, but since they're theorising, nothing is off the table. Jim is one of the few people she can discuss this with. ]

But to your point — the technology could have been stolen, yes. Or it could have been given. This original refugee clearly wants nothing to do with the orbiters so who's to say he didn't have some hand in all this? And yet we're being asked to travel and meet with him like ambassadors.

[willrevile]

I wonder if we're over or under estimating the Natha, [ Jim muses. ] They're not all powerful, they're obviously withholding information. Just - how much?

[ Could the mysterious act be, in part, a smokescreen to cover the fact that they're scrambling? Would that be better or worse? Jim lets all of this roll around in his head.

Frustrating. ]

You don't like the diplomatic approach? [ At that, Jim can't help but offer a lopsided smile. ] It's the only thing I think sounds on the level, out of everything. But I can't imagine it'll go smoothly.

[revlon]

Darma told us to go to him for answers but never specified what questions we're meant to ask, [ she points out. ] Unless she just means any and all questions we would have asked her.

[ Scrambling sounds about right. Hand off the reins to someone else; but does that someone else know they're being called upon to do so? Or will they show up at Nadril unannounced and uninvited? Sounds like the latter, unless they get more information in the coming days (or weeks — they still don't know how long they're going to be up here). ]

Not that it matters. [ She exhales, almost resigned but wearily amused that she is. ] I'll go regardless. Assuming I'm reunited with my horse.

[willrevile]

I'm just hoping whoever we're going to go speak to is annoyed enough by the Natha's behavior not to act like them, [ is veering towards sass. ] Which we should absolutely point out if we hit another vague bullshit wall.

[ Diplomacy in action: quit bein' a dick. ]

Did yours bail, or is it just somewhere on the planet? I recently obtained one and he - [ Jim gestures, illustrating something sailing away ] fucked right off as soon as all that hit. Hopefully it didn't get eaten by one of the dragons in the Fields.

[revlon]

Oh, I quite agree. I have no patience for games, not after everything that's happened.

[ She's threatened to stab a man in the artery with a fork for less. She's a saint up until she isn't. But no one need know that. ]

Mine ran off with the rest, [ she answers next, sighing into her cup of tea. ] I've had her for some time now so I hope she's all right. But Mab's a clever girl, I've every confidence that as soon as things are put to rights, she'll find her way back home. And — [ A shrug. ] I'm not opposed to making it to Nadril on foot, I'm no stranger to a bit of a hike especially after the way my group landed. It's what lives out in the wilds that concern me.

[willrevile]

It would definitely be poetic fate, or something, if Admiral Archer's Prized Beagle vanished without a trace, but it really better show back up.

[ Even if Jim hits the jackpot with some kind of refugee mage healer, he's pretty sure walking all that way will be taxing on his recovery. Not that he won't do it anyway, but still. ]

More weird shit lurking out there, I assume?

[revlon]

Giant spiders who mimic the voices of people you know and love, [ she replies idly, ] presumably to lure you to certain death. Amongst other things.

[ Other creatures, she means; she's sure the arache doesn't do more than devour its victims. Her group had encountered them in the woods on the way to the West Outpost and if Steve Rogers hadn't been walking alongside her or in the vicinity, she'd have been caught up by the sound of his voice screaming in the distance. (But she'd heard others; her late brother, Michael.)

Everyone had been left unsettled. A few had to fight their way out of literally sticky situations. And that's just what she's seen or heard; no telling what else is out there. Then she pauses and frowns across at him. ]

I'm sorry, what did you name your horse?

[willrevile]

[ He makes a faintly disgusted face at that idea. Great, this'll be fun, and annoying. Assuming they won't all just be walking strangely through a frozen world - something else to discuss in a moment. He's spoken to her of time before, and it's worth revisiting, in light of current events.

But first, with complete serenity, Jim says: ] Admiral Archer's Prized Beagle. [ He takes a sip of his tea. ]

[revlon]

[ That's a mouthful. She looks at him for a few beats longer then declares, quite plainly, ]

I feel as though I'm missing the joke.

[ Because it's got to be, hasn't it, with a name like that? Horses can have majestic, often ridiculous names. Hers is Queen Mab which is more the former than the latter, thanks very much, but that's neither here nor there. ]

[willrevile]

Admiral Archer, [ oh here we go ] had this dog. He had this dog for like, fifty years. At least that's what he said. I knew the dog, I met the dog on numerous occasions. More often than I ever met the admiral, because he'd be on campus being wheeled around for photo-ops with the fossil-- [ JIM PLS ] and so on, but the dog would wander. Was it the same dog, miracle of veterinary science, or did he just get new dogs? A mystery.

[ More tea. ]

One day, the dog vanished. I don't think anyone thought about it, or would have just assumed it or Archer kicked the bucket finally. I definitely didn't think about it. Until I ended up marooned on an ice rock and made my way to a remote Starfleet science outpost, which was manned by two people. One of which was there as punishment for having vanished a beagle.

[revlon]

[ She listens, brows raising steadily higher, until he reaches the end of his explanation. There's another lengthy pause. And then, lightly, ]

I see. [ Peggy opens her mouth as if she's going to say something else, doesn't; then does — ] And how does one vanish a beagle, precisely?

[willrevile]

[ But Wait, There's More. ]

Oh, there's plenty of ways. In this case, it was a transport beam theory experiment using the - obtained without explicit permission, mind - beagle in question as a test subject. Beamed him from pad A to ... nowhere. Atoms in space.

[ Transporters are slightly terrifying on the best of days, when considered at their mechanical roots. ]

So this guy on this rock ends up my chief engineer [ of course he does, ] and a couple years later we're visiting this planet investigating a weird tech signature, which isn't really important to the crux of this story, but we're there, and we discover it's the home planet of these weird little fuzzball creatures that have popped up throughout the galaxy every so often. They're tiny and harmless and all they do is sit there and make a cooing noise and everyone loves them, great, right? They're fine. Well, a few end up back on the ship. And we discover the rapid, asexual nature of their reproduction. An hour goes by, and now we have about twenty thousand on the ship.

And. I find out my chief engineer has sent one back to Earth for his nephew, using a modified version of the beaming experiment that lost the dog.

[revlon]

[ She asked about a horse and now she's getting a story about atomised canines and now, somehow, alien creatures that multiple like rabbits. Worse than rabbits. It's not that she's looking at him with a dawning sense of wonder or bewilderment — but it is somewhere along those lines. She has an excellent poker face but it needn't apply here, so it doesn't.

A breath. ]

Well, that's very, [ she begins, then pauses delicately, unsure how to proceed. She takes a sip of tea. ] Interesting.

[ Another pause. ]

And preferable to a dragon, I suppose.

[willrevile]

Yeah, way less annoying than a dragon. Even when my - [ Jim falters here, but it's to smile, some odd private emotion sparking ] Chris, ah, Admiral Pike, sends me this video of like thirty bajillion of this furballs stuck to every surface in San Fransisco, from decorative landscaping to skyscrapers, asking me very patiently if any of my crew have been fucking with transwarp beaming.

[ Aaahh, good times. BUT ANYWAY, ]

We did eventually figure out how to get them to stop breeding, and put them all back on their planet to continue to multiply and get eaten by the giant carnivorous vacuum monsters there, [ just gonna gloss right over that one yeah, ] and I think that's the end of it. I'm in my ready room, finally off the relays getting reamed by half of Starfleet Command, and all of a sudden I'm getting ten messages like 'Captain you have to come to the transporter room!!' [ Panicked hand gestures!! ]

I go down there, and... what's in the transporter room?

[ Jim looks at her. Dramatic pause. ]

The fucking beagle.

[revlon]

[ She has questions, of course: that flicker across his expression at the mention of an Admiral Pike — it's personal, she can read that much — and the vague references to transwarp beaming and transport technology. She imagines the latter is not dissimilar to what Thesa uses to get them to the surface and back, but she hasn't parsed the exact physics of it. It seemed like such a trivial thing to inquire after so she hadn't, but now that she knows Jim is familiar with it, she may just ask.

Later. ]

The beagle declared MIA, [ she nods, following along easily enough. ] A Christmas miracle if I've ever heard one. Quite the life you led before El Nysa, Captain Kirk. It's no wonder you take so much of this in stride.

[willrevile]

[ That's a milktoast story, even. Jim huffs a laugh. ] Space is just weird. I'm not sure I'd have ever been able to have a different career, honestly.

[ Besides prison. ]

We were months out from the nearest starbase, to say nothing of Earth, so we just had this dog on board for a while. I had a lieutenant whose only job for weeks was to track down a living relative of the by-then-deceased Admiral Archer to pawn the thing off onto, and eventually, it vanished again, out into someone's custody.

Felt like it made sense for a horse that sort of came from nowhere.

[revlon]

I quite agree, [ she chuckles. ] And I appreciate the context, as colourful as it was.

[ And the story was, admittedly, a welcome distraction and curious bit of normalcy to the way their lives have been upended. Again. It's a conversation they could have just as easily had over drinks on the surface or on a call, in between trading information. But because they're here, there's no work to be done. They truly can take their time. ]

So should your prize stallion return when we're allowed back on the planet, what do you call him? Admiral Archer or Beagle? Inquiring minds, Mr Kirk.

[willrevile]

[ Jim shrugs. ] Beagle, I guess. It's not like he's earned a rank yet. Might not even crack ensign, given his unsanctioned retreat in the face of danger. Definitely still in cadet range.

[ Serious business. ]

Wild, though. Confirmation of my thoughts about the way they're working with time.

[revlon]

[ She taps a manicured nail along the rim of her cup, nodding. ]

Yes, it seems so. I wish I could say I'm surprised, but the Natha have never been entirely forthcoming about what they're capable of and this just puts our rescues into perspective. What do you make of it?