❪ 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

[almaredemptoris]

[It does not escape his notice that the singularities of her appearance do not end with the mask and bandages. There are too the appendages protruding from her cloak’s hood like the ears of a bat, and the gleaming yellow of her eyes from within the shadow of the cowl. Yet while such details startle his mundane sensibilities, he has been on the planet long enough to know that there exist races of men that are not quite human. All the same she is, in his eyes, a young girl.]

I suppose I cannot produce any proof that I’ve not attempted to poison any children before...

[This he says lightly, as if playing along with an unspoken game.]

As for what I shall eat, I cannot say. I am not yet familiar with this city’s cuisine.

[flask]

[Nott opens her mouth behind her mask, raising a finger, ready to get defensive, but snaps it shut, finger losing its steam. He... totally said "children".

Fuck. This is perfect.]

Fine. If you don't poison children, then I'll have supper with you.

[almaredemptoris]

[Indeed he said “children”...yet even if he realized she was not a child, and not so much in need as he believes, he could not object to sharing what he has. He smiles serenely.]

Then let us find someplace to sup. Do you know your way about here very well?

[He casts his gaze about the covered walkway where they stand, landing briefly on the brightly lit windows of the shop they had lately exited. Nothing seems amiss within.]

[flask]

[Doesn't he know that being so caring is dangerous?]

Not at all.

[She follows his gaze to Paws About Town, putting her hands in her pockets to grab firm hold of her prize. It's her first collected object since leaving Exandria. She doesn't want anything to happen to it.

Plus, she has some uses in mind for a mechanical rat with a mind of its own, if her observation of the other such "pets" gave her any idea of how they could be used. Not nearly as tasty as a real rat, but infinitely more useful. Should she figure out how to work it.]

[almaredemptoris]

[It is his soul that concerns him more...]

Well, then I suppose we ought to explore a bit. Come now.

[And so speaking he begins in the direction which he had originally been heading before his curiosity brought him into the shop of mechanical pets. Around them the buildings are tightly clustered as if huddling together to ward off the bitter cold: here is the dense center of the city, built around the fallen ship wedged into the earth. As they walk, he looks among the many glittering signs for one that indicates food.]

Tell me if you smell something good.

[flask]

[Nott is very weirded out by this whole sequence of events, but she's probably going to get a free meal out of it, so that's alright by her. She doesn't usually manage scams without Caleb's help, couldn't lie convincingly to save her life without his aid, but this opportunity simply fell on her lap.

But if this place really does have a dearth of halflings, maybe a disguise as a child would work better after all. She'll workshop it.

After some wandering after the man, she does, in fact, smell something good. There's some kind of stall selling nice and hot treats, though what catches Nott's attention in particular are the meats currently cooking on a strange grill.]

Look at that!

[She points in its direction.]

[almaredemptoris]

[Can it truly be called a scam if she in fact did nothing to facilitate this outcome of events...

In any case, Jean Valjean looks to where she points. The stall is wedged between two buildings, announced by brightly colored awning. Along the front of the stall runs a narrow counter at which stools are stationed, and beyond the counter the grill is showcased to entice passers by.]

Very well.

[Upon approaching, he asks her with a smile:]

Which would you like?

[flask]

[Sometimes, a scam is just as much the things you don't say. Welcome to my TED Talk.

Nott peers at the food currently exchanging hands, sniffing the air appreciatively. Meat is her favorite type of food, and there are some meats she's familiar with here, beef and pork, some she's not, and decidedly none of her favorites, like rat or animal tongue. But she's used to that at this point, and unfortunately used to the fact that most societies outside of her clan seem to actually cook their meat before serving it. She looks over the menu.]

A "bacon wrapped hot dog" sounds good. I like bacon and I like dog.

[Shh, no one tell her.]

[almaredemptoris]

[Unfortunately, nor does Jean Valjean know what a hot dog entails... The image conjured by such a name strikes him as rather gruesome, but he can concede that different lands must hold different customs.

And so, with a nod to Nott, he turns to address the man in charge of the cart, who asks what they will have. Coins exchange hands. The bacon-wrapped hot dog is seized from the grill, sizzling with grease, with a pair of tongs and slipped into a bun; the man passes the paper boat of food to Jean Valjean, and he passes it on to Nott. For himself, who keeps a modest diet and rarely indulges in meat, he orders what seems to be the least extravagant item on the menu: in essence, the Nadril version of French Fries, involving a variety of hearty root vegetables.]

Is it good?

[flask]

[Nott inspects her food for a moment, having never encountered a hot dog and being surprised by the presentation in a cushion of bread. Still, she's pretty excited about the free meal, so she glances up warily at the man accompanying her and removes her mask.

A frightening row of sharp, goblin teeth take a large, gruesome bite out of her meal, complete with an almost bestial and certainly unladylike noise as she smacks her lips and gobbles her little taste of it down.

Between bites, she answers.]

It's good! Doesn't taste like any dog I'm familiar with, though.

[almaredemptoris]

[If the sight of those gruesome teeth startle him, then it does not show in his countenance. Nor does he seem appalled by her abject lack of manners as she gobbles her food. Rather, he merely looks pleased that she is enjoying herself.]

Would you like to sit?

[Gesturing to the row of stools lines up at the front of the stand. Although it seems that in a moment more the hot dog will be devoured...

As for himself, having not received any utensils to aid in eating his food, he carefully takes up a fry in his gloves hand to sample.]

[flask]

[She looks up from licking her fingers despite the cloth on them to remember that, oh yes, typically one sits for a meal.]

Okay.

[She takes a seat at a nearby stool, peering over at his food with curiosity as he samples it.]

How is your... veeeeegetable...?

[If she sounds like she has no idea how to identify the food he's eating, that would be because she certainly doesn't.]

[almaredemptoris]

[He takes his seat beside her. Despite the chill that grips the city, their seats at the stall are warm, enveloped as they are in the heat radiating from the nearby grill. He finishes the bite he presently chews before answering her question.] It is not quite what I expected. [Richer, battered and seasoned as they are. The taste is, as anticipated, foreign, and oddly like a sweeter version of Earthen vegetables.] But that is all right.

[flask]

[continued here]