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Entry tags:
- *event,
- avatar: mai,
- blood bank: reign fear,
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- bungou stray dogs: atsushi nakajima,
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- kingdom hearts: sora,
- kingdom hearts: terra,
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- little witch academia: atsuko kagari (ak,
- love live: you watanabe,
- loz: urbosa,
- mcu: gamora,
- mcu: peggy carter,
- mistborn: vin,
- ouat: emma swan,
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- overwatch: jack morrison (soldier 76),
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- saiyuki: genjo sanzo,
- star trek: james t. kirk,
- stargate: john sheppard,
- teahouse: linneus,
- tenchi muyo!: ryoko hakubi,
- torchwood: ianto jones,
- voltron: allura,
- yuri!!! on ice: jean-jacques leroy
❪ event ❫ hour of ruin
|
HOUR OF RUIN  Sometime after midnight, after preparations have been put aside in favor of drinks and rest, a thunderous beating of wings shatters the air — the High Dragon Ysverai, once again risen. The sound echoes high off Namarak Mountain, but travels easily to both Wyver and Olympia: scream after scream rends the still night, as though a creature were dying rather than being born again. Having only had days to plan their defense against the creature, Olympia and Wyver snatch up their arms. The Royal Guard and the Knightryders can be seen on their steeds hurrying through the cities, because Ysverai doesn't remain isolated at the mountain's peak for long. There are pictures of Ysverai in abundance throughout both cities, but the creature that circles in the sky looks nothing like the majestic creature spoken of in history books. Even from far below, wounds and lacerations can be seen marring what should be smooth scales, and blood falls with every beat of the dragon's wings. The damage becomes more clear when moonlight illuminates Ysverai, revealing the rotting dragon for all to see. The sight of flesh peeling away and thick blood where it oozes from his cracked, greyish hide is as frightening as the power he possesses. REASON'S TRANSCENDENCE
Mad from the anguish of his forced revival, Ysverai will show none of his renowned wisdom or compassion, mindless and seeking to inflict his pain onto whatever emerges in his path.
His very presence creates chaos: animals (Olympia | Wyver) domesticated and wild, flee from the merest hint of his approach, panicked and stampeding in wild droves. The reason is obvious: organic matter exposed too long to his presence begins to rot and decay. A field he lands in rots and lies fallow. Buildings crack and crumble, their supports pitted and corroded as though they've been left in disrepair for years. Even the ground that Ysverai walks upon is tainted; a corrosive sludge bubbles up in his massive, clawed footsteps, the ground beneath him putrefied and toxic, oozing corruption. This sludge can be tar-like, poisonous and sucking people in like quicksand; panic, and you'll only sink faster. Prolonged exposure to Ysverai takes a mental toll on anyone in his proximity as well. Effects similar to those from being near his heart — selfish desires and lowered inhibitions — will begin to fester in those around him. Every time Ysverai roars, pain will run through all those that hear him — a pain not just physical, but of true, anguished heartbreak. Those who hear Ysverai will feel (to a degree of your choosing) a sharing of his pain, the agony of flesh rotting from their bodies, blood oozing from under their skin, and a terrible, incandescent fury — and beneath that, a gut-wrenching sadness. This effect is further enhanced by any exposure to Ysverai's blood, and being drenched in greater quantities will cause one to become more in sync with the dragon. Finally, Ysverai is aggressive, attacking anyone and anything that approaches. He starts by breathing out a smog, acidic and putrefying — characters caught directly by this attack will find that medicine and healing magic of any kind hurts them for hours after exposure. The dragon will ignite the smog to breathe fire, if sparingly. IN WYVER
Ysverai's shadow falls over the near reaches of Wyver first. Upon hearing Ysverai's cry, the dragons in Wyver become completely frenzied, turning against their partners among the Knightryders without the slightest resistance. Those familiar with dragons might deduce that they're in pain, though they don't show any sign of injury. The dragons knock their riders off their backs in midair and dive at citizens, jaws wide. Any attempts to soothe them will be long fought, achieved with great difficulty, and will see them retreat into a cowering state.
It's not just the airborne Knightryders taking to the defense of the city however, and people on the ground are mobilizing as well. On rooftops across the city are cannons set to fire harpoons. And if the spearheads alone aren't enough to injure the beast, they're coated with a paralyzing poison as well. Unfortunately, the soldiers stationed on the rooftops are prime targets to the frenzied dragons populating Wyver's skies, leaving the cannons open for ordinary citizens to use should they choose. Left alone too long, and cannons may fall under the control of the few remaining radicals that had opted not to flee the cities to join up with their leader Raysc, choosing instead to wait for an opportune moment to unleash their anger on the people of Wyver. These radicals will need to be dealt with before they can turn the cannons upon Wyver's defenders. IN OLYMPIA
In Olympia, the gryphon partners of the Royal Guard react with immediate hostility to anyone showing signs of Ysverai's influence. Their keen senses allow them to pick up the smell of Ysverai's blood and they attack anyone with so much as a drop of tainted blood on them. Those who bear lingering effects of Ysverai's mental attack and who remain in sync with the dragon after hearing Ysverai's cry are also targeted and must face the gryphons' wrath without mercy or restraint. The gryphons must be disabled, for Olympia will not look upon any injury to their prized steeds lightly. However, the gryphons also show some resistance to Ysverai's cry, which is a great boon in battle against the dragon — gryphons that have lost their riders will be available for use, able to carry two passengers at a time.
The people of Olympia aren't planning to restrict their offense to pure brute force, and the mages of the city can be seen across Olympia wielding enchanted chains, using telekinesis in the hopes of restraining Ysverai and assisting in the airborne troops. But like the decaying buildings and wildlife, Ysverai is warping the magic around him, the chains faltering as they approach him, whipping back toward the city instead to cage whoever happens to be closest. It's not just the enchanted chains either, but other magic might behave erratically in his presence, as if the very essence of the spells have been corrupted. VIRTUOUS VERSE
Both cities realize they need to seek survival rather than victory against Ysverai, switching gears to carry out diversion efforts and evacuation plans. It falls to refugees to continue the offensive while the Royal Guard and the Knightryders devote their attention to ensuring the safety of the citizens as they flee.
With official forces stretched thin, civilians and refugees alike will also need to step up to help herd citizens toward safety among a maze of collapsing buildings. Others will need to see to gathering resources for the evacuation, and while gathering non perishables is easy enough, it's considerably harder to wrangle livestock into cooperating amidst such chaos. Those fighting may be asked to act as bait for Ysverai. Chatter through official troops speaks of a switch in strategy: the objective now is capture the dragon's attention and draw him away from the populous cities and towards the South Outpost. Whether or not it's possible to defeat the dragon remains uncertain, but there's no question that it will be easier to battle him without worrying about civilians. THE RAGE  Luckily, the dragon is indiscriminate in his rage, and easily lured so long as a suitably infuriating target is before him. It doesn't take long to draw him to the South Outpost, but the trail of destruction he leaves in his wake is vast. Once there, the combined forces are greeted not just by Ysverai, but also by the appearance of Ysverai's master. 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. 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.
Players can expect this event to run three days ICly before everyone is teleported to Thesa Station! From thereon, all characters will be grounded at the Station until the Test Drive Meme later this month.
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"No, I don't suppose that imminent danger has ever been an aid in reading comprehension," he muses. Reaching for his sandwich again and taking a few bites as he considers it.
"Don't they want you touching things for them as well, though?" he asks. He distinctly remembers that being the phrasing that John had given him.
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So you know. It didn't work out. He shrugs, picks up his sandwich to take another bite. There are a lot of calories that need savouring here, and that's much more important than actual details about him. Focus on the food, Ianto!
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"So. Teyla, who is a good person. McKay, who likes to complain a lot," Ianto muses, trying to snap out of that train of thought. He's told you about his team -- they're free game to ask questions about too, if you're so inclined you know John. "And... Ronon?" He's assuming Rodney and McKay are the same person, but he doesn't quite know for sure. Switching names on him mid-explanation is very confusing, John!
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How do you even describe Ronon?
"He was a... soldier, before. Not the chattiest, but he's a good guy. Big guy."
Strong but generally silent. He toys with the plate of cheesy fries for a long moment.
"Maybe you'll get to meet them, some day."
It's a nice mental image, everyone back together. Even if it's maybe something of a dream, when so many other people seem to still be alone.
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"I'd like that," he says, raising his sandwich to take another bite of it so that he doesn't embarrass himself -- or John, he supposes -- with anything else. But he would. He'd like to get to know John's friends. He'd like to get to know John more in general. In any way he can. And John obviously cares for these people, enough to have kept them close to his chest for as long as he had.
"I found Owen," he says, after a long pause. "In the stasis pods. I know the rest of them are supposed to be out there somewhere, but. While you were..." He trails off awkwardly, because he doesn't quite know how to talk about John's death and his time in the medical pods while he'd been recovering. "It's silly to say, but. It's good to at least have proof."
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It had been reassuring to find Teyla, in that sense. He thinks about asking about Owen, about Jack and Torchwood, but as nosy as he feels Ianto is already in a fragile state and he might not feel ready to talk. John doesn't want him to feel obligated, doesn't want to pry. He takes another bite of his sandwich instead, vaguely letting his mind.
"Guess we should be looking up stuff about Nadril," he says finally, because it seems like the next project and Ianto likes being busy.
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"Yeah..." he replies, because it's true that they should. He just doesn't even know where to begin. Or how, for that matter. He finishes the first half of his sandwich and reaches for another of the chips. He supposes he should have been thinking more about those sort of questions earlier and feels a little guilty that he hadn't. He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying to better ground himself again. "I've honestly never really heard of it before now, but that. Hardly means anything. Us being so new." Hard to imagine they've only been kicking around the planet a few months, considering everything that's happened so far.
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Since that's what Ianto believes he's best at, right? Research, and fact-finding, being support. He finishes up the half sandwich he's holding and vaguely cleans his hands with the napkin, scratches idly at his arm and winces -- right, don't do that. Frowning at the pale spot he scratched he rubs it carefully before lifting his eyes to Ianto and offering him a quick smile.
"Must be something useful somewhere on this ship about everything down there, right?"
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He doesn't miss the way that John winces and frowns at his arm though, and Ianto sits forward in his seat and frowns at the other man in turn. He hadn't been sure how well-healed John is -- the patchiness of his skin hadn't seemed to bother him before -- but he supposes that answers that question. "Does it hurt?" he asks, setting aside any further conversation about research for now. The spots and patches across his skin... He knows it must have hurt before. It must have been why it took so long for him to come out of the medical pods, to heal him even this far. But now...?
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"I've had worse," he says, because it's true. When the burns were first covering his body, that was much worse. Now it's just itchy and sore, which... is bad because there's a lot of sore itchy patches, but not as bad as searing pain.
He's whole, and he's alive, and it'll all heal... probably? Now that he's dwelling on it he supposes he doesn't know for sure, but itching is usually a sign of healing and he assumes it will toughen up and become less sensitive over time.
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Maybe John doesn't feel too keen on the idea of it, but Ianto flicks a pleading glance up to the other man and only just keeps himself from reaching for his hand because they're still eating. "Please, John," he settles for trying instead. "It's just. If I can at least offer you this. If I can at least do this much..." Then maybe he won't feel quite so terrible about the fact that he had to stand back and watch him die. Leave him behind, not knowing he would see him again. He realizes that it's selfish on his part as anything, but. Just this much...
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"Who's 'they'?" he settles on asking. 'They' gave it to him, and they could be anyone. The Natha, people from Olympia, from Wyver, another refugee, a doctor prescribing it to treat some injury that Ianto hasn't told him about. He wouldn't put the latter past him, honestly. It's something John would do himself, after all, giving away something prescribed to him.
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"Some of the medical staff, here on the station," he answers, glancing up at the other man before back down at his food. It's an answer to the question John's asking directly, though he's willing to bet what the next question may be to follow.
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"Then I assume it's meant to help you with something."
You know. If it was prescribed to you. By medical staff. He's just saying, sounds like you shouldn't be putting it on him.
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"It was," he hedges. "Look, I. Just got caught in a few spots. I wasn't careful enough, and there was a lot of fire. It's nothing serious and it's certainly not." It's nowhere as bad as anything John had experienced. "If you're so worried about using mine up then we can just go ask for more for you."
He's assuming they'll only give him the same thing anyway. Though maybe in a larger quantity, considering the amount they'd have to use for John. He's guessing the healing marks are pretty extensive, considering what they were.
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Get some more, that is. Later. He picks up some more fries and eats them slowly, nudging the plate back an inch toward Ianto again. Finish your food first, though. You still look a little grey around the edges, Ianto, and John suspects more fries might help.
"Where did you get hit?"
Where is 'a few spots', Ianto.
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He’s just about to reach for his sandwich again when John asks about his own injuries and he chances a glance up at the other man in turn, wondering if John will see things in the same way that he does. It is nothing, especially compared to some of the injuries some of the others have suffered. But he supposes that they’re bad enough to have him seeking medical attention yes.
Cautiously, he reaches to roll up his sleeves — he’s been wearing a long-sleeved tshirt, which makes it easy to hide the angrier red marks on his arms where the ash and battlefield debris had singed him. “It’s just a few scorches, and a little contact burn on my ankle where I misjudged a step,” he explains. “Everything was on fire, and I was out there too you know. It was bound to happen.”
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He knows Ianto was there because he remembers trying to make him leave, remembers Ianto holding on to his vest and begging him not to stay and fight.
His eyes flick up to Ianto's for a moment self-consciously, then flit back down to his food as he picks up his sandwich to take another bite.
"Looks like it hurts."
The burns.
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"I've had worse," he says, glancing up at the other man and tossing his line back at him with a half-hearted smile. Unlike John he doesn't avoid the question there, though. Reaching for another chip he admits, "It...does. It's not bad, but it's a burn. It hurts like one. That's what the cream is for, though." Fancy that. He reaches for his sandwich again, raising an eyebrow at the other man in question before taking another bite.
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"Alright. Finish your sandwich and we can get some more of that stuff. I guess it's revenge for all the times I made you put on sunblock."
Since John is pretty sure he can't see all the patches on himself, so Ianto will probably have to help him. As awkward as that might be. If it makes sure he puts some on his own burns, though, that's worth it.
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Now that they have a goal to work towards after the food is finished, Ianto has no problem concentrating on the remainder of his sandwich. Though he makes certain that he takes the time to enjoy it. Wiping his hands on a napkin again as he reaches for another chip. "Is there such a thing as a cheese coma? I feel as though I may be reaching the danger zone."
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Is a cheese coma any different to a regular food coma? More unhealthy, maybe. He shoves aside his empty sandwich plate and grabs another couple of fries, offering Ianto a crooked grin.
"That's why it's so good though."
There's probably some degree of logic in that somewhere, that makes sense only to John. He grabs his own napkin and leans back in his chair, stretching out and looking pretty close to a cheese coma himself.
"You done, then?"
With fries, if he's close to the danger zone and all.
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"Are you ready to go? To get more of that cream, I mean. It shouldn't take too long, I've a feeling they'll just take one look at you and hand it over." Though the patches on John's skin are healing well, they're still healing. Any little bit to help them along, frankly. "We should probably stop by and pick up my bag as well," he muses, before realizing that he's essentially just invited himself to stay with John again and glancing across at the other man warily. "If that's. I mean..."
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"Sure," he says after a moment, and drops the napkin down on the table as he pushes out his chair. "We can do that on the way."
If that's what Ianto wants to do. He gets up and pushes his chair back in, shoves his hands into his pockets idly. Well? Is that the plan, then?
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Ianto nods in response to the other man's agreement and steps forward to lead the way from the mess hall down the corridor towards the room he'd stashed the bag in. If John should happen to follow him in, he'll notice that there's noticeably no one else settled in the room with him, and Ianto doesn't seem to have spent much time in the room himself either, despite the fact that they've been stuck there for the past few days. But perhaps he'd figured so also. He grabs his bag and hooks it over his shoulder before turning to the other man with a smile.
"Onwards and forwards," he says, and leads the way towards the medical bay. As Ianto had suspected, it doesn't take much to get a tube of cream for John himself. Maybe it has something to do with the way the other man's skin looks. Maybe it's the fact that Ianto asks so nicely. Regardless, it's not too long before they're making their way back to John's space again, Ianto dumping his bag on the second bed before turning to John and peering at the label.
"For soothing pain, itching, and the reduction of scarring. This seems to be the same as what they'd given me," he says. "Just in a larger bottle. I'd imagine so that you didn't run out quite so often. But it should do everything you want."
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