❪ 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

[motivation]

( it's not a task. maybe it is. she's too fucking tired to think straight, body moving because it has to, because she's not at her quarters yet, because she hasn't checked in with everyone yet. hasn't checked in with anyone but jim, yet.

she's glad he goes easily, that he doesn't ask questions or tries to talk. in return, she comes willingly when he tugs at her arm, urging her down as well. she goes, even as she's tugging her communicator from one pocket, grimacing at the pain that shoots up her arm at the motion. her muscles are tired, the trembling kind of exhaustion that goes bone-deep.

at least nothing's broken. )

Got a few calls to make. ( she mutters, not quite enunciating the words clearly. she'll try, once she's checking in with others. jim knows what she looks like right now, he wouldn't buy it if she told him she was fine anyway. )

[willrevile]

Mmhm. [ Acceptance of that. Jim's got broken fingers on his left hand and a severely damaged foot, but they're bandaged, and sooner or later Natha tech or one of the healers will roll through. He settles back and makes sure there's space for her - there isn't, much, but even though they're both in pain, halfway curling up together means they can both fit and get comfortable.

Alright, maybe there's no technical physical 'comfort' when they're both sentient bruises, but there's a kind of comfort to it anyway. Jim's damaged hand lays across her middle lightly, holding on while his head's against hers. ]

S'gonna be okay, princess, [ he mumbles. ]

[motivation]

( dutch has bruises and cuts and burns, a shoulder that was at some point dislocated and that she shoved back into the joint on the battlefield because it's what khlyen taught her to do, because it's the best thing she can do. she hurts, but the ache is as familiar as exhaustion.

this wasn't one of khlyen's lessons, but she feels like she used to. raw. in pain.

jim's hand across her middle helps a little. they figure out a way to curve their bodies together, legs tangled and her head brushing his shoulder, the pillow shared between them. that helps, too.

princess doesn't, but it's an old pain. )

You should sleep.

( if he can, while she contacts those she gives a shit about here, whether she'll admit it or not. )

[willrevile]

Mmhm. [ A repeat of that noise, and he shifts just a little, as if re-asserting his position entwined with her, reminding them both that they're stuck like this now. There's no escaping for either of them without toppling the other onto the floor.

He's barely awake, honestly. He'll sleep. But he's going to do his best to stay awake and make sure she's not alone-- the thought process of someone firing on the absolute last cylinder of consciousness available. ]

[motivation]

( ordinarily, dutch wouldn't appreciate the reminder of being entwined with anyone. the reminder that she gives a shit. she tries not to let khlyen's teachings determine all of who she is, but his lessons are still hard to shake. caring is a weakness. love is a weakness. it'll make her vulnerable and it'll get her killed and she can never let anyone or anything do that.

right now, she's too tired to even think about that. khlyen's on her mind, a fleeting thought, then gone again. he's in stasis; she still doesn't know what to make of that. it seems jim is getting to see a lot of her unusuals, a lot of the out of the ordinary moments.

the first response to her texts and calls comes in and dutch breathes. another and her chest expanse, head heavier where it rests against jim's shoulder. )

[willrevile]

[ A lot of things can get people killed. Not giving a shit does it just as fast. Sometimes faster. Sometimes it doesn't matter at all, and there's just crossfire, or senselessness, or disease. Something stray and unrelated.

(Does Dutch remember what he said, when--)

Jim doesn't have anything to add too her calls and texts. Though he does nose closer and laugh quietly at something, maybe the tone of her voice.

Until he passes the fuck out, and he's a warm, heavy tentacled weight around her.

Sooner rather than later, he'll have to wake up again. ]

[motivation]

( dutch keeps texting and calling for a while after jim's fallen asleep, his weight and warmth a welcome point of gravity, keeping her connected to the bed and reality. her body feels heavy, but floaty at the same time and she's glad for his solidity against her.

eventually, she nods off, too. )

[willrevile]

Good morning, [ says the strangely multi-limbed boa constrictor wrapped around Dutch some hours later, when he notices her breathing pattern has shifted into a conscious one.

Jim himself is only barely with it; he knows as soon as he moves, his body is going to remember how much pain it's in. He'd much rather just lay here until something vital requires his attention. Like the need for a real shower, or food. Fortunately - or something - he's too dehydrated to need to pee. ]

[motivation]

Mh'nin'. ( says dutch, or something vaguely like that. it's not properly enunciated by any stretch of the imagination, mumbled because she's still mostly asleep and still more exhausted than she'd like to admit to if she was less exhausted and more awake and thus in a state to worry about shit like that. she's not, right now.

also, her face is kind of mashed against his shoulder. that's fine. she leaves it there. )

[willrevile]

[ Further consciousness means pain, especially from whatever the heck happened to his foot, and so Jim decides that can fuck off. Drifting in and out of barely-there laziness is much preferable, especially with Dutch smushed against him like they're pancakes that have seen better days.

Every so often he can heart footsteps, the occasional low voice, refugees walking the halls of the crew quarters area. It's strange to experience Thesa so busy. Even during the times when more were woken up and plenty of people went up, it was never everyone.

Jim's hand (the one without broken fingers) finds the back of her head, just resting it there. ]

[motivation]

( it's busy, but that's a good thing. it means everyone or at least most people made it up here. dutch spares a thought to the owner of the bar she sleeps above, the guy who organises the fight ring that keeps her supplied with enough money for food and drink and the like because she can take apart a guy twice her size like it's nothing.

they're still down there. never let it be you, little bird. she won't mourn them; they're just in stasis, anyway.

his hand finds the back of her head and she shifts forward a little, foul breath (because no one was brushing their teeth last night) ghosting over his collarbone. )

Okay? ( she asks after a while, the word coming out almost clearly. are you—? she means. )

[willrevile]

Mmhm.

[ He's okay. He's injured and he's gross (breath isn't the only thing that smells; Jim's worst injuries and bleeding were cleaned off by Dr Fraser, but still, yikes) but he's okay. ]

Should probably shower, [ he mutters. Nonspeaking of grossness. Sweat and blood and all manner of grime. ] Before I head back to medical. They'll have figured out the tech by now.

[ And he's pretty mangled. ]

You need to hit it up?

[motivation]

'm good.

( at least as far as medical is concerned. there are some burns on her arms, someone slashed at her side, but it's nothing major. she's fine.

she hums. ) Shower sounds good. ( but untangling herself seems like too much work. )

[willrevile]

[ Jim'll bring back something for her probably anyway; he's not a good mother hen, but he knows they'll both (they'll all) need to recover very quickly from this and be right back into top form. Any little boost helps. ]

'Kay. [ About it all. A few moments later: ] We can split a shower when we can get up. So neither of us drown.

[ In the shower, yes. ]

[motivation]

Yeah. ( they wouldn't drown. but it's still a - ) Good plan.

( y'know. someone might slip and fall and hurt their neck. or something. dutch doesn't actually care. what she cares about is not having to waste any energy untangling herself from jim because it seems like way too much effort right now. )

[willrevile]

[ Jim grunts an assent. Good plan, but not right now. He's not getting up yet either. They could honestly probably sleep for the next week, if the Natha delay whatever it is they're supposed to be doing for them that long. They, he and Dutch, he and Dutch and every single person involved with the bedlam below on the planet's surface.

He shifts but only enough to tilt his head down, move his hand fractionally. The lower half of his face nearly pressed to the top of her head, now. The position is almost too sweet, or would be if they weren't beat to hell. ]

[motivation]

( if it's sweet, dutch doesn't notice. she doesn't make the connection with the time they were high and wandering through khalo, holding hands, the way they'd fallen asleep in the grass in the end. she's not thinking of that, not because she's actively trying not to think of it but because she's too tired.

she just hums something that could be assent or a mindless noise, and then she drifts off to sleep again for a little longer. )

[willrevile]

[ Dozing or sleeping, Jim's not sure how long he's there for - but it's well needed, or his workaholic internal clock would have forced him awake long ago.

They do, eventually, get up. If only to work feeling back into stiff muscles and begin to wonder about food. They're both still gross enough that leaving her quarters would just get them chased back inside, though, so they default to the incoherently mumbled plan of some hours ago: shower.

The worst of Jim's injuries is his foot, but it's wrapped up very well; Claire used the materials he'd donated to her only a week before, so it's sealed and water(everything)proof. Just very, very sore. (And probably hideous, but that's hidden away under bandages.) Broken fingers will heal with another round to sickbag, and if the rest of him is a walking bruise, well, so is everyone else. ]

Drowning feels weirdly possible, [ he observes, programming in the water temperature. ]

[motivation]

Easy fix: don't put your face in the water.

( the words lack any kind of bite, though. dutch isn't hurt as badly as he is, but her muscles are protesting every movement and there are bruises and some minor burns littered over her skin. a walking bruise, like him. like everyone else. she nudges her shoulder against a little-bruised part of his upper arm. )

I'll keep you safe.

( it's meant to be teasing. if it comes out a little softer than intended, she'll blame the lingering exhaustion. )

[willrevile]

[ It's soft and nice and a bunch of things neither of them have room for in their strange tangled lives. As much as Jim believes in goodness and won't ever believe Dutch is the monster she thinks she is, in a way they have similar goals. Alliances of affection and passion that only go so far.

He's got a wall around his heart as much as she does, it's just camouflaged differently.

So: he exhales a snuffly laugh. Sweet but not too much. ]

My dumb ass is in your capable hands.

[ And in this shower. Uugghhh man, this is gonna take some scrubbing. ]

[motivation]

( there's safety in walls. it's not physical walls dutch needs, but the walls they each carry around their hearts, those make it safe. safer, anyway. he's like johnny and he isn't. johnny loves so deeply, so easily. so does d'avin, really, but d'avin has learned how to hide it better, how to shield himself.

and then there's dutch. some days, she's afraid she'll wake up one day and she won't feel at all anymore.

she banishes the thought. reaches out to cup one of his buttcheeks. grins. )

Yeah, I know. ( literally.

it's a fucking terrible joke, but she doesn't give a shit right now. )

[willrevile]

[ Jim just knows how unsuitable he is. He'll be a disappointment, deeper. In the past his refusal to allow anyone in was over anger, and nowadays, it's because he doesn't know what's in there. Who is he, without Starfleet? Without Captain Kirk? He'd been so sure of himself after that lapse in faith, and he's worked so hard to exorcise the demons of his past.

But that the fuck is there, if not for that past? Is he just empty without it?

Whatever. He can laugh about her hand on his ass and her stupid joke. ]

I think that's the only part of me not bruised. [ He tries to twist around to check out his own bum, but it doesn't really work. ]

[motivation]

So I should keep touching it?

( she leaves her hand where it is because she wants to, anyway. there's nothing particularly sexual about it. nothing possessive, either, though she's feeling a little possessive right now.

there are few people dutch is willing to go to great lengths for. there are few people dutch is willing to call hers — her friends, her family, whatever. her people. hers. johnny, d'avin. pree and alvis. zeph, maybe.

the list hasn't grown yet, but after a year, there are some names she might think of adding. )

[willrevile]

[ Jim's people are all asleep, like hers, and this place.. if it's to be believed, this is it, the end. They're each other's, now.

Something like that. Maybe someday Jim'll do something besides keep people at arm's length, do something besides watch quietly from behind the walls that don't look like walls. Until then, he'll laugh and not protest Dutch having a handful of his ass.

Soap. A lot of it. Jim ends up needing genuine help, ribs inhibiting his full range of motion in such a cramped space, and whatever 'help' he offers her in return is at least just companionable, tinged with a little bit of playfulness. Way too wiped out for sex. ]

[motivation]

[ a year here and dutch hasn't asked herself yet if she believe that it's the end. she's asked herself how to get d'avin and johnny out of stasis. how to get alvis and pree and fancy out. she's been semi-threatened by the orbiters. her friends are hostages, bargaining chips for her good behaviour.

maybe khlyen had a point when he said caring made her weak, but she can't stop now, even if she still denies giving that much of a shit.

she lets go of his arse eventually to actually soap up both of them. they're both too wiped out for sex, but there's something —dare she say nice about sharing a shower regardless? it doesn't always have to be about orgasms as the end goal. for today, the memory of ysverai's screams still lodged in her chest, dutch is glad to take the companionship. ]