❪ 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

[colorature]

<sub>[He's not wrong in his assumption - Diva probably never would be truly sated, but that's just the nature of her species, her predisposition. She tracks his gaze, watching his eyes as they dart toward the weapon at his side. It may be a threat or could be registered as one, or maybe even a challenge.

Not much seems threatening to Diva right now, however.]</sub>

Shall I bear them toward you? You taste good but you wouldn't be enough to satisfy me. Gobbling you up wouldn't be nearly enough.

_{[She takes another step toward him, until she's fully beforehim, a hand reaching out to press gently against his chest, dragging her fingers down his front.]}

But then I wonder if you're capable of satisfying me at all, in any capacity.

[shikomizue]

[There's no threat in her movement, a simple approach that leaves her open to any manner of attack. What's dangerous is her confidence, the glib way she dismisses having any need for him.

A precursor, just as much as the hands on his chest.

They don't feel warm.

Takasugi stands before her, unflinching. His chest tightens - a deep breath - not in apprehension but frustration.

She's not the only one who will never be satisfied.] Who knows?

You'll have to find out for yourself.

[colorature]

<sub>[Who knows indeed.

Takasugi's words are as good of an invitation as any. Her hand moves back up his chest suddenly, the action too quick to counter as her fingers find his throat and squeeze. There will be marks left, surely, indents from the pads of fingertips and nails. The pressure will be enough to startle and choke, but not enough to crush his windpipe, even if that could change rather quickly.]</sub>

Well, Shinsuke?

[shikomizue]

[The pressure against his throat makes Takasugi's jaw set immediately. He balks against her, one foot back to anchor himself as his shoulders square and he tries to keen his head to the side.

With almost no possibility for movement.

He can't answer, not verbally, his throat too tight to do anything but wheeze shallow breaths.

Instead he raises his blade, as quickly as she'd seized his neck, and cuts into her side. It hitches against ribs, lack of momentum leaving her impaled and bleeding rather than cleaved in two.]

[colorature]

_{[The contact of steel against her side has her digging her nails into flesh, puncturing into Takasugi's neck. She doesn't buckle, but she does freeze in place for a moment, blue eyes wide and crazed. It hurts, of course, but it's nothing like she hasn't endured before, blood oozing out onto the blade stuck in her. If anything it gets her to suddenly laugh, the sound sharp and shrill.]}

Do you want to die?

[shikomizue]

[One more twitch, and she'll rip out his throat. Takasugi can feel, more acutely than the pain of sharp talons in his flesh, the steadiness of her hand. It moves on instinct.

He isn't trying to die here.

Diva's laugh rings in his ears, the sound ebbing in and out as blood throbs, his face reddening.

Her question is a sign of the shred of self control that remains in her; it could be the last chance Takasugi has to act. He seizes it not with strangled words or surrender.

Grounded - she's assured that, holding his neck so tightly - Takasugi has the leverage he needs to wrench his blade up. Through bone, its path is uneven, but unrelenting. He'll cut through breast, neck, and face if she doesn't release him and allow his footing to stumble back.]

[colorature]

_{[The blade only gets so far - to her collarbone, before she's stepping back and out of the way, releasing Takasugi's throat from her grip, only to snag the end of the blade in her hand and snap it clean off. She tosses it away without a second thought, her hand healing immediately before his eyes. It's pair moves to the gaping wound he'd cut through her, which she stares down at with a frown. It too begins to close shut, bones popping back into place and regrowing, flesh sewing itself shut. Her dress was already stained to begin with, but the shredding of fabric has left her with an undesirable cutout.]}

Shinsuke, you're being quite rude, you know?

_{[You ruined her dress even further, bitch.]}

[shikomizue]

[With release comes a gasp for breath, one that floods his throat too quickly. He coughs, chest heaving with waning pangs of suffocation. But never does he tear his eye from her.

Even the cracking of his blade can't distract him from watching flesh knit together.

Bone, skin, everything between works in reverse to repair until it's smooth, not even a scar left behind.

Sickening.

He wants to carve it out again and again.] Aa?

[That desire overtakes the chance she's given him; with broken blade, Takasugi rushes forward. Aims straight for her sternum, a piercing blow that he'll pull into a slash meant to open her up once more, should it connect.]

[colorature]

<sub>[Usually she's a lot more careful. Usually, if she had her head screwed on right and she had little care for Takasugi, he'd have been slaughtered like the others around them in a moment. But it's the familiarity that saves him and the cries of the dragon scrambling her brain that keep her feeling disorientated. Her ears are delicate, after all, and her balance depends on them working correctly.

Takasugi's lucky, so far, but that luck won't last, but for now he's spared an early death. His blade meets its mark, but doesn't cut as deep as it should. Even so, it's enough to leave things spilling as she takes a few steps back, stumbling, a hand moving to her stomach. Out poke the shape of intestines and other organs. They're slick and red, some purpled. She's not happy by any means. It hurts, but it isn't enough to incapacitate her by far. Back she pushes her guts, letting her palm rest against her stomach as things begin to shift back into place and attach, for damaged skin to stitch itself up once again.]</sub>

I'm done playing with you, Shinsuke.

_{[A verbal warning - the only one he's going to get before she's suddenly behind him, swinging a leg out to quite literally kick him in the ass and send him flying into a tree.]}

[shikomizue]

[Would this sight loose its luster? Bodies strewn, twisted inside out or blown to pieces, have long become commonplace. But there's something novel about watching a monster like this, all disturbed beauty, shove herself back together.

With how much he'll need to cut, he doesn't think the allure will endure.

At best, it'll simmer into something frustrating.

He's already shifting his hold on his broken blade, ready for another deluge of red. Ignoring her warning-

By the time he reacts, all he can do is brace himself for impact. Arms raised, they take the brunt of the force. The trunk groans, leaves shuddering and dropping around him. Graceless in landing, he quickly turns, back against the tree but still slumped to the ground.

His hand gropes for his blade, several seconds (too long) wasted until he finds it. The blade remains at his side, held ready to react as he stands - not to pursue her, but in anticipation of follow through.]

[colorature]

<sub>[There is no follow through. Just like that, she's grown tired of Takasugi's attempts on her life. It wasn't fun or exciting anymore - just annoying. Especially since he'd ruined her dress beyond repair, blood stains aside.

There's a little wave of sorts, thrown his direction, before she turns her back on him to leave and move on. It would be wise of him to let her be. She only has so much restraint.]</sub>

[shikomizue]

[What stands before him, obscured by tree-filtered light and the ring of black throbbing around his vision, is a shambling mess. Nothing beautiful remains - she's a coagulation of blood and silk and wild hair.

He finds himself disappointed she's leaving.

But he won't pursue.

Takasugi looks over the blade in his hand before dropping it, flexing lacerated fingers.

He doubts this will be the only time they leave each other battered.]