❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

[natha]

You've spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Now, the time to put all your survival training into practice has arrived: El Nysa needs you, and you're here to help the planet thrive. Are you ready? THE DESCENT     All refugees on the station are called to the hangar, where a large-scale teleporter awaits. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait; everyone will be sent down to the planet together. Before they depart, all refugees will be given a cold weather survival kit with warm clothing, rations, and bedding. The arrays build into a brilliant wash of light, creating a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa, teleporting the refugees to the planet on an aurora. Once on the planet's surface, refugees receive one last message from Darma. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet we must ask you to brave further peril. Within Nadril are the secrets to how poor Ysverai's revival was hidden from our sight and how this disaster has come to our star. Find the first refugee from beyond this planet, a man named Magda. He will not speak to us, for much has come between us, but to you… If you prove yourselves, he may be willing to answer your questions. We beseech you, for there is a veil over Nadril that hides all within from us. There may yet be more untold dangers waiting to befall this planet. For the good of all who make this world home, we ask you to lend us your aid. There is yet one more favor we would ask of you. In warding off the Storm's encroachment, the physical aspect of ourselves that you call Thesa Station was damaged. We must remain to continue repairs to El Nysa and to deal with Ysverai, but there should be suitable technology within Nadril that could be used for spare parts. If you have the chance to find it and can return it to us, it would hasten— Darma's message crackles with static, another image overlaying hers — her broadcast is cut off and replaced with another. A more sullen and alien voice takes Darma’s place, overlapping on itself in an ominous reveal. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet you’ve only just arrived here. To say I’m not disappointed in your… generation would be to lie, and I am nothing if not an honest creature. But I suppose these have been unusual circumstances. You must ask yourself this — are you only here as Darma's lapdogs? I can assure you, it's not worth being on the Natha's leash. With time, that will be something you'll have to learn for yourself. If you're so determined to come find Nadril, then follow the path north, and you'll find the border. What awaits you is revelation, if you're up to the challenge. A FROZEN LAND     The refugees land on a literally frozen world, both in temperature and time. Curls of icy wind hold swirls of snow aloft and an uncanny silence is broken only by the crunch of hoarfrost underfoot. Only Darma's protection allows the refugees to move through this frozen world — and movement is very necessary. Bitter cold sneaks through even the thickest clothing and without warning, a snowstorm rises: unnaturally quickly, a wall of white howls directly in the refugee's path. Bizarrely, the way back is perfectly calm; it's obvious that this storm is no product of nature. Magda's challenge becomes clear: the only way to Nadril lies through this storm. Visibility within the storm is near zero, the whiteout hiding any landmarks from view and making navigation near impossible. The only guidance refugees have is a sporadic path of faint, greenish lights, easily lost in the raging storm. Refugees need all the survival skills they practiced on Thesa Station to survive, for getting lost alone is a death sentence. Luckily, those separated from the group can happen upon guiding lights Magda has planted throughout the tundra. These blue-white sparks cause frostbite if handled recklessly, but they also serve as directional anchors, turning into ghostly flames that lead lost souls back to the path to Nadril. The trek through the storm will be no mean feat and will last for the better part of three days. By the time the refugees reach Nadril's gate, most will find themselves exhausted and running on fumes. As the snowstorm dies away and a gap in the glittering forcefield around the city opens to usher the refugees inside, it's clear that Nadril is a different beast. A WARM(?) WELCOME     I. Despite the unforgiving journey, entering Nadril is painless. Once inside, characters will be greeted by their predecessors: the original refugees who made this advanced city. They'll immediately be offered medical attention, as well as warm cider and blankets. But it's obvious that the Nadril citizens prefer higher tech to fend off the weather: they also offer wristlets and ear cuffs that that double as mittens and earmuffs by creating warm bubbles of air. The earrings also feature a few quality of life programs, such as timed alarms and thought-to-speech messaging. However, both programs are in beta stages so it's not unusual for a stray thought to accidentally slip through or an alarm to accidentally ring at an inopportune time. II. Refugees are offered free lodging in a large, crystalline building crafted from ice. Despite the coarse building material, the ice is unmelting and surprisingly well-insulated, and the beds are as warm and cozy. The rooms are, however, small. The sleeping quarters house two people, and are some cross between an igloo and a capsule hotel. Though built for efficiency over comfort, all rooms are also outfitted with the latest Nadril AI, RoboAlfred, or Ralf for short. This helpful program is installed in practically all the furnishings: the closet tells guests to bundle up, the bathroom sink reminds them to brush their teeth, and the mirror offers helpful fashion tips. Ralf's personality matrix still needs polish, though: it may very well insult your clothes and passively-aggressively question your lifestyle choices for the entire stay. III. Though not as advanced as Thesa Station, the colony has technology far beyond the rest of the continent, such as rudimentary AIs and mechanical transportation. Nadril's skyline is a point of pride — refugees can take a (literal) lightrail that gives an aerial view of the colony, which is hewn almost entirely from ice and rock. Despite its tech, Nadril is much more sparsely populated than Olympia and Wyver, and its residents stay near a central hub: a Natha refugee drop ship, Central, which has crashed and long embedded itself into the earth. Central is similar to an older, smaller, grounded model of Thesa Station, in functional order with round-the-clock solar power. Within Central are lounges similar to ones on the Station, though many of the damaged areas have been converted. They include repair stations, different wings dedicated to science, botany, astrology, and mechanics, and a research and history facility, which has a smattering of technology from planets beyond El Nysa — including your own. The staff here don't mind if anything is sampled and studied, but objects cannot be taken from the labs. IV. On the outskirts of the central hub, many will find several curious looking bots with insect-like wings perched about high traffic walkways. Simply passing the bots will cause a dizzying flash before a series of photos print out. Upon closer inspection, people will find that these images reflect stills taken from their home worlds as they remember it. Unfortunately, these photos only last a couple of hours at best. At that time, they will revert back to regular pictures of the refugees. People will be encouraged to share these images of their worlds. The residents of Nadril comprehend the value of remembering one's origins, and will be pleased to see that people still hold memories of old homes close to them. RECREATION IN NADRIL     I. Small, mechanical creatures scampering through the city are a common sight. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they come from a shop called Paws About Town. They’re very useful, as companions, gophers, and couriers (though the more mischievous will note that they’re just small enough to keep tabs on people without being noticed). Premade robotic pets are available on display inside the shop. They come in all shapes, but small sizes; one may be able to find robots that even look like miniature creatures from their homeworld. These are a part of a new, highly customizable line with programmable personalities. Customers have the chance to take pets for a one-day trial run. Those who don’t know how to program may want to enlist more knowledgeable aid, but the pets come with instructional pamphlets for basic personality traits such as obedience, helpfulness, playfulness, and bloodthirst. For returns, the switch to wipe the robot's personality to a blank slate is on the back of its neck, right between a switch to invert all traits, and a switch to have them learn by observing. Try not to press the wrong switch — you might wind up with a pet with a mind of its own! II. A. The Frosty Tap Cantina is a thriving hub of activity, but one of the major draws is the self-service bar: molecular mixology is wildly popular here. Playing with drink compositions can be a game in and of itself, and newcomers to the cantina will find that the bartender — a cheerful woman with lilac skin and three eyes — is always happy to give them a few tips on how to use the wide array of tools within reach of the barstools. All manner of drinks are possible — from glowing, layered cocktails, to clear drinks with colored, spherical bubbles and vividly-colored shots that give off their own smoke. There's a nightly contest in the cantina for the most creative drink created by a team — this may be as good a time as any to partner up with someone and see what can you come up with. Winner gets all their drinks for the night free! And, hey, even if you don't win, you get to drink whatever you make. The well-lubricated patrons of the bar are eager to challenge anyone nearby to a different sort of drinking game… Just how well can you hold your liquor? B. Holo-screens in the cantina are nearly always broadcasting some match or another of a game that looks very much like hockey, albeit played with sticks that light up and a puck that changes shape from time to time. Colonists here merely refer to the game as "the sport," and one of their favored pastimes is betting. However, they don't use currency — they wager dares. Nadril colonists are a tough, weathered lot, and they prefer to speak with actions over silver. Colonists will urge the refugees to take part as well. Common dares range from the ridiculous (lead a sing-a-long, attempt to make someone with a poker face smile) to the suggestive (kiss the person in the cantina you find most attractive, strip off a piece of clothing), to the outright reckless (venture out into the snow for a certain amount of time, and no one will judge if you find some company to keep warm). The colonists are unfazed by even the most insane or tawdry of dares — but you'll certainly be called a killjoy for refusing too often! Why not grab a friend and give it a whirl, or challenge a rival to a dare yourself? THE MISSION     I. On the outskirts of Nadril is the communications tower of the old refugees. This is where Magda resides, monitoring Nadril's technological protections, the extent of the Natha’s influence, and running his own personal projects for El Nysa’s technological advancement. It is isolated, filled with research labs and relics of the past refugees who have come to El Nysa — a living mausoleum of worlds swallowed up by the Storm whose peoples have refused to forget where they came from. Crew photos line the walls of the tower: pictures of alien families and friends, the refugees who came to Nadril before you. Each group of photos gradually becomes smaller in number, and the most recent of the pictures are from half a century ago. Magda's picture can be found among the first group of refugees, an unusually small cluster of photos dating back centuries in El Nysa's past. I have been on this planet for nearly two centuries. Life has come, evolved, and collided in an ever expanding culture. But Darma fears interference, and made this place a prison, with she our warden, stifling the growth of the creatures native to this world rather than encouraging them to flourish. She sent you here for answers in her stead because she knows I'll spurn her, and after seeing what that fool Raysc has wrought, I'll give you them — not for Darma's sake, but because I trust after all the Natha have done to you, you'll understand my decision. Mistakes were made, and I won't hide them. You've made it here so there's some mettle to you, and unlike the Orbiters, I'm not interested in hiding the secrets of the dangers we face. I gave Raysc what he needed to keep his actions hidden from Darma's eyes — what he needed to advance the primitive magics the Natha had doomed him to. It was old Natha tech, Darma's very own used against her. Hilarious, isn't it? Raysc learned of Nadril, and like you, braved the snow to find his way here. He proved his worth and his determination, and he spoke of a brighter future, El Nysa coming into its own, its people realizing their true potential, unhindered by the shackles that had been put upon them. I believed him. He had vision — or so I thought. In truth, he was a fool. A madman. He wasted the opportunity I gave him on his petty vengeance. But not everyone on this planet is such an idiot. Surely you lot aren't. The Natha are hiding things from us — about the Storm, about everything. And here in Nadril, we're going to find all those secrets. What's it going to be? Will you help us, or are you going to stay obedient dogs on Darma's leash? Magda isn't too talkative yet; after all, the new flock of refugees may just be here as eyes and ears for the Orbiters. But what he has said leaves you with plenty to talk about, and if you can earn his trust by helping out around Nadril, he doubtless has a great deal more to reveal. II. Central isn't the only Natha ship that made its way to El Nysa — another, crashed just outside Nadril's borders, is little more than a junk heap. It's here that you'll find the spare parts Darma asked you to retrieve for Thesa Station. What remains of the ship's hull serves as a windbreak, and snow has built up against it, turning the piles of old Natha tech inside into something of a snowy morass. Holes in the deck offer would-be scavengers passage to the ship's innards, barely illuminated with flickering lights — the tech is old, but hardy enough to withstand a crash landing, the severe weather, and the passage of centuries. Deep in the wreck are the remains of living quarters, research labs, VR arenas, mecha bays, cafeterias, and a host of other rooms, many of which may seem familiar from Thesa Station, albeit with a decidedly older feel to what remains of the smooth curves and sleek surfaces of the Natha architecture. Most of the ship's systems are damaged and the technology is nonfunctional, but that just means there's plenty of spare parts to be found. The wreck isn't in the best shape, its structural integrity damaged, and the drifting snow threatens to block off exit routes. Be careful while exploring and be sure to bring a partner. As it turns out, Darma isn't the only one interested in the wreck — Magda is also eager to get his hands on Natha technology. In his own way of taking some responsibility for Raysc, he's asking scavengers to bring him parts, muttering about seeing what he can do about Ysverai's curse. Bring him anything that looks useful, and he may have a chance to succeed, though whether he'll be more effective than the Natha Orbiters is up for debate... FINAL OOC NOTES     An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NADRIL REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY AUGUST 5TH, 11:59 PM EST. As always, feel free to create your own prompts and explore the Nadril location page! There are a variety of activities made available, including fishing and cave exploration! Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

no matter what we tell claire it went perfectly.

[givingback]

[ Bree's lived what was, arguably, a cushy life. A nice big house in Boston, parents who doted on her (sometimes both of them, other times just Frank), friends, popularity, it was all there. The perfect set up for her to not really know what life can be like for others, let alone for someone like Theon. As she takes him in, she realizes her mother was right to warn her, and Bree finally casts her line. ]

Stream, mostly. Sometimes my father took me to the ocean to fish, if it was just the two of us.

[ For a second, she considers leaving it at that, but Brianna feels the need to clarify. ]

Not Jamie. He didn't raise me.

oh, 100%

[reek]

[ His eyebrows knit together when he’s hit with that piece of information. He and Jamie have spoken, found common ground over the things that have happened to them, but Theon knows little more about him beyond what they share in common. He’s never mentioned his daughter, but Claire has, and it seems - and it’s beginning to hit him harder than he realized it ever could - that he knows far less about Claire than Claire knows about him. In fact, Claire knows almost everything about him that there is to tell.

He doesn’t question what Bree says, of course, but it’s hard to miss that he looks hurt. ]

My father didn’t raise me either.

[ Balon Greyjoy’s hand in raising his son had been minimal, almost nonexistent. He had been focused on his rebellion. Dagmer Cleftjaw had taught Theon practically everything he knew on the Iron Islands, and eventually the Stark household took over from there. ]

It was House Greyoy’s master-at-arms who taught me how to fish. He was a longship captain. He would take me to the best places around the islands to learn.

[givingback]

Well, look at that. We have something in common.

[ Who would have thought. Maybe one day they can bond. ]

I don't know a lot about houses and what a master-at-arms is yet. If I say something stupid about your home, you're either going to have to teach me what's right or promise not to make fun of me to my face. Whatever's easier for you.

[ If he doesn't want to try correcting her because he's afraid to, she gets that. Just don't laugh at her when she eventually gives up trying to understand Westeros. ]

[reek]

I don’t care what you say about my home. You never knew it.

[ He doesn’t even know where in Westeros his home truthfully was. He was born in one place, raised in another, reborn as another person elsewhere (if he can call the Dreadfort a home). It’s a confusing situation and he hates trying to sort it out. ]

House Greyjoy is my family line, as far back as the name goes. A master-at arms is charged with training the garrison and the children of noblemen. Each reigning Lord for each House typically has a master-at-arms.

[ Yeah, he may be the Weird Kid, but he’s got some titles and royal blood to back him up. ]

Your mother must have told you about me. Other people tend to have more questions.

[ More to do with his missing fingers or broken teeth, why he won't make eye contact, or why he flinches at each new sound. ]

[givingback]

She did. She also said there were some things that weren't hers to tell. But I know the basics.

[ There's no reason for her to step softly; he knows she knows. ]

I wouldn't expect you to humor me just because I'm curious. You don't know me, either. So, we can keep talking about fishing. Or what you think about my mother, I would never say no to that. And if you don't mind explaining to me what a garrison is, I'll keep asking questions about Westeros. But you don't owe me an explanation for why you are the way you are. Or anyone.

[ Maybe that's easy to say because she does know the gist, she doesn't want to tell him how to live his life here. So, she leaves it up to him. ]

[reek]

[ He falls silent, his eyebrows knitting together once more. He lets his gaze drift away, across the ice, somewhere toward the bare skyline. No, it isn’t Claire’s story to tell, but it’s a heavy tale, and Theon dislikes recounting it again and again. It only takes him back to the moment it happened, forces him back into a dark place in his mind, and sometimes he fears he may never escape it.

He’s silent for so long, it may seem as though he isn’t listening to her at all, or as though he’s disconnected entirely from the conversation, but eventually he does respond in quiet voice. ]

A garrison is…it’s the men who make up the armies.

[ He scrubs at his face with a gloved hand, trying to force himself back to some semblance of Theon. ]

You can ask what you like. You're likely to get three other explanations from the other Westerosi, so you may as well start now.

[givingback]

It doesn't seem fair to hear about you from other people. Not when you're right here.

[ Bree's line is in the water, and she lets out a breath, the air puffing around her when she does. ]

Is my mother really helping you? I don't mean...is she telling the truth about it. I mean, do you feel like she's helped?

[reek]

Aye.

[ Claire has been of help to him. He has more strength than he did when he returned from stasis, and he can only thank her for it, but there are some things Claire can’t help with. There will always be a storm brewing in Theon’s head, and he’ll always have to fare it on his own.

But he is a mess, and he has his doubts. He hesitates as he stares down at his line. ]

I think she feels she can do more for me than she really can.

[ Fingers don't grow back, teeth don't grow back, flayed skin doesn't grow back. He doesn't see how any of these things can possibly be remedied. ]

[givingback]

She often feels that way about everything.

[ Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, and Bree doesn't mean it that way. She knows her mother's reputation as a doctor, one who handled tough cases, one who didn't give up on patients who then made recoveries that had been doubtful. And because she hadn't given up on convincing Bree of the truth somehow, despite some of the things Bree's said and some of her misgivings, their relationship has changed for the better. ]

Sometimes you have to tell her when she's being too much. Once, I was sick and she wouldn't let me sleep for more than a half hour at a time and I had to beg her to leave me alone and let me sleep.

[ Brianna smiles just a touch at that, glancing over at Theon. ]

If she's trying that hard, it means she really cares about you.

[reek]

[ He huffs out a brittle laugh. That does sound like Claire, and he suspects she would treat him quite similarly if he weren’t the way he is. The old Theon had perfected the art of pushing people away. He’s retained that stubbornness and now, in addition to it, he simply can’t stand people touching him. The anticipation and the fear that they might hurt him is simply too much and sends him into a spiral. Claire has earned his trust to an extent, but he still flinches at her touch. ]

It's not that. I know she cares.

[ He just fears sometimes that she might give up on him, as is typically the norm in his life. ]

Sometimes I don’t remember how long I’ve been this way. I thought I would keep going this way until there was nothing left of me, but then I woke back up here.

[ His eyebrows knit together, his mouth drawn in a thin line as he stares down at his line. ]

She’s the first person who ever offered me any sort of help. I just don't know how far her help can really extend.

[givingback]

Because the wounds you have aren't just physical.

[ She says that like a statement, not a question, then realizes she may have over-stepped and looks away quickly. ]

I'm sorry. I'm not trying to...I just meant being hurt isn't always something another person can see.

[ Brianna really has no experience with that, at all. All told, she's never been through a major trauma other than losing her father unexpectedly. The shock of Claire's lies wasn't something so life-altering that Bree would never know how to cope. What Theon's been through is soul changing which she knows but can't wrap her mind around. ]

[reek]

[ He nods, not looking up. His deepest cuts can’t be bandaged and his worst breaks can’t be reset. They’re mental, and they slow every part of his recovery, feeding his doubts and setting him back even further. They’re strange wounds, difficult to explain, and he doubts anyone will ever be able to help to heal them. ]

You don’t have to tiptoe around what you’re trying to say.

[ He walked on broken glass for too long back home. Everything was a trick or a game, trying to get him to misspeak or to do something wrong. He was lucky he grew as wise to it as he did. He doesn’t want cruel words, but he doesn’t want someone trying to mask their true meaning. ]

I’ve been through worse than blunt assumptions.

[givingback]

It wasn't tiptoeing. It was trying not to be a complete asshole.

[ So, there's blunt. ]

There's a difference, you know.

[ She's never going to be rude just to be rude no matter what the other person has been through. Unless it's her own mother but that's for another thread!!!

She has questions, she's curious, but there's no reason to be invasive. In all truth, it's none of her business and he isn't obligated to tell her anything. ]

[reek]

I’m sorry.

[ He isn’t really, but it’s been driven into his head that he should be. It’s better to agree, better to nod and keep his stomach to the floor than to cause any extra trouble. ]

I know you were. I know there is.

[ That bit isn’t a lie. He does know there’s a different, but Ramsay blurred so many lines for him. What’s a trick and what isn’t? What’s the truth and what’s a game? He doesn’t want to have to guess anymore. ]

I’ll still answer your questions, if you have more.

[givingback]

[ He expects her to have questions, but she doesn't, really. Not about what he assumes, probably. Claire laid out everything in a way that didn't lend itself much to asking questions about Theon himself.

But luckily, she's saved by a tug on her line and she's distracted. ]

Hey, I got something, I think!

[ She starts reeling it in, actually looking like she knows what she's doing thanks to Frank, and soon she has a small fish on her line, enough worth eating but not much to brag about. ]

Do we keep the fish here or throw them back?

[reek]

Throw them back if they’re too small, keep them if you plan on eating them.

[ He’s thrown back several, but he’s kept a handful of them. He’s doing this more for the mental escape than anything, but he suspects that his roommate has never eaten seafood, and he’s missed it quite a bit himself. A dinner wouldn’t go amiss.

He glances at the fish on Bree’s line, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a ghost of a smirk. ]

That should be good for about two bites.

[givingback]

Hey, it's my first time in a new place, cut me some slack.

[ But yeah, she's not going to eat it so she lets it go, hoping for something bigger as she gets more bait on her hook. ]

How do you deal with the fact that the person who did that to you wandering around, free?

[ She only asks after a few moments of silence have passed, a nice segue, a transition into his offer to answer her questions. ]

[reek]

[ It’s that question that makes him go paler, if that were even possible. It’s unexpected and startling. He hadn’t expected her to know about Ramsay.

It’s like a switch in his head. His anxiety doubles, what little evidence of the old Theon there had been melts away, and he can hardly hear his own words over the rushing of blood in his ears. ]

I deserved it. I deserved what happened to me. I can be here, so there’s—

[ His eyes close as he struggles, swallowing hard. He isn’t defending Ramsay. He’s just playing the same game he’s always played. It’s self defense. ]

There’s no reason why he shouldn’t be here as well.

[givingback]

[ Jesus Christ. See, this is why she wasn't asking questions. It's better that she wasn't. ]

I disagree with the idea of a psychopath being on the loose, but all right.

[ Bree disagrees with all of it. No one deserves what Theon got, and she doesn't even know all of it. ]

[reek]

[ It really is better that she wasn’t. He’s just one big ball of anxiety just waiting to explode. ]

He—can be kind.

[ That is a lie, and that is Theon Greyjoy trying really hard to reach. ]

I angered him. It—

[ He’s clearly having a difficult time. ]

It was never so bad.

[givingback]

[ Bree's taken one psychology course in her life, but this sounds like classic Stockholm Syndrome or something. Jesus. ]

It was never so bad? Christ, have you looked at yourself?

[ She looks at him in sheer disbelief, shaking her head. ]

If that isn't 'so bad' I'd hate to know what 'really bad' is.

[reek]

[ He tries very hard not to look at himself these days. He knows how he looks: like hell, with his broken teeth and his brittle white hair. Ramsay caused all of it.

He doesn’t look at her. He keeps his head down, like a dog that’s been scolded. Her knowledge of Ramsay’s existence has just shocked and startled him so deeply, leaving him feeling exposed. He doesn’t want Ramsay thinking lies are being spread about him, even if those lies are the truth. ]

I was never starved.

[ Not for long, at least. ]

And I asked him to take my fingers.

[ Only after the skin had been flayed from them. ]

[givingback]

[ She wants out of this conversation so bad; she's uncomfortable but not because of him, not really. He's been traumatized and there's clearly a lot wrong with him now. She just doesn't know how to veer off into something normal from here. If the ice opened and swallowed her she'd honestly welcome it, just to get off of this topic. She also doesn't want to just leave because that'd be rude. Shes' so mad at her mother right now and she doesn't even know why.

Bree truly doesn't know what to say to this so she's just quiet for now. Isn't fishing a quiet sport anyway?

Christ. ]