nysalogs | ❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

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❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

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!

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

✈ arrival.

i. — the march.
( the truth is, she's not prepared for this. going planetside — a strange word to daisy, even after a few days of getting settled on a literal space station — involves more than simply stepping through a door. there's gear to gather, emergency protocols to review, paperwork to sign; if daisy lets herself, it's easy to imagine being back on the bus, the low hum of fellow refugees around her a familiar sound even in unfamiliar situations. that much is easy, in any case. the glowing portal that sends her from thesa station to the planet is not easy — at least, not to reconcile.

dangerously, foolishly, daisy stands still for a moment once the messages clear, her mind trying in desperation to corral and catalog all the sudden information with what little she understands about the natha. she's clearly a little in over her head, and it's only the impatient tug of a stranger's hand against her winterwear that sends her moving again. )

Thanks, ( she offers in a called out reply, but they've already turned back around, facing into the storm in pursuit of the promised destination. it was a kind gesture, even if she can't thank them directly. the least she can do is carry on the idea. to her own nearest companion, daisy holds out her own hand, a tight smile barely visible between her hood, the icy wind, and all her whipping hair. ) Ready? Together?

( what's the saying? all for one, one for all? )

✈ recreation.

ii. — the dare.
( she's never been a mixed drink sort of girl. a beer, a splash of gin and tonic — daisy's never been particular or fussy about her booze, preferring something simple when the mood strikes, and so the cocktail competitions don't hold much appeal for her. she'll try something if a friendly stranger insists, of course (why turn down a free drink?) but she won't seek it out.

the "sport", however, suits her tastes a whole lot more. she's not shy about sidling up to a free seat at a lively table, her own beer bottle with its peeled off label set in front of her as she watches the game and its crowd of excitable observers. it does remind her of hockey, but more the kind of hockey played on uneven neighborhood streets, the kind that often resulted in brash fistfights when someone elbowed the wrong player. she's unsurprised to find the same levels of enthusiasm here.

at one point, the game reaches a fever pitch: two teams are neck-and-neck, the assumed goalies abandoning their posts to add to their respective teams' offensive strategies, and the puck careens back and forth from side to side with gleeful thwacks that echo through the loudspeakers even above the din of the crowd. supporters boo and hiss, cheer and scream, and one turns to daisy with a drunken grin: i betcha he'll score, whatdya say?

who is she to turn down such an offer?

apparently, a loser, since the he in question slings the puck into the net not ten seconds after daisy agrees to her bet. of course he does. she can't be mad, though; she signed up willingly, and so she'll take her betted punishment with grace. the bet, of course, being the drunken man's favorite: a kiss, to a stranger, properly given.

thus, her somewhat subtle approach: find a stranger, flag down the bartender, and pose an offer: ) Kiss me, and next drink's on me.

( so... whatdya say? )

✈ wildcard.

#. — the other.
( feeling up for something else? i'm flexible! rooming disasters in the ice hotel, scavenging adventures in the various nooks and crannies of the ship, or just general exploration — i'm down to clown. feel free to leave me something or hit me up for a custom starter if you prefer! hit me up via pm or semicolons! )

[ eggsy knows better than to order his favourite mixed drinks 'cause they inevitably taste different from their earthly counterparts (but ask him to make you an approximation on thesa, and he'll sort out something damn close, swear down). instead, he nurses his second pint at the bar, chatting with nadril colonists whenever possible. it's lowkey intel gathering, seeing as he's actually enjoying the sport and lively atmosphere. reminds him of london during the football. his last month was dramatic, with losses and undead dragons breaking up the weeks, so tonight is a nice reprieve. after losing his bulletproof suit to bloody robots, he wears plain blacks beneath his natha-issue winter gear. no snapback today, either (you're welcome).

daisy's proposition is ballsy enough to make him smile, hidden behind his drink as he turns to assess her. one of the american refugees, definitely. and pretty. he nearly says, "sorry, i'm taken" on instinct, but he's not, hasn't been for nearly a year despite the sudden burst of memories in his head, with a few almosts scattered in between. and he can't turn down her delivery, said like a dare in and of itself. ]

Any drink?

[ teasing, as if that's the important part of her offer. ]

Yes.

( straightforward, to the point; it's perhaps not exactly the most well thought-out concept of daisy's espionage career, considering she's got zero idea what the range of pricing is on another planet, but she's sticking with it. might as well, right? backing down certainly won't win her any favors, and it'll likely error out her attempts to settle her bet fair and square.

so, no dice to hedging out now. she'll just have to keep her game face on, a wicked smile offered freely in his direction as she reaches out to cup his glass between thumb and forefinger. he doesn't protest, surprisingly, and so daisy finds it easy to tug it away, pulling it to her own mouth to take a considering sip. (result: it's not terrible. a little hoppy for her tastes, but fitz had shitty taste in beer too, so she can't be too shocked that this pond-hopper does as well.)

to his question, though, she follows up with one of her own: ) Well? Do you want the drink or not?

[ with his beer goes his cover and attempt at coolness... but he doesn't protest, no, eyes bright with amusement at how forward she is (so so so american). and when she counters, he shrugs. his gaze flickers from her to the rest of the room (feigning thoughtfulness, despite the obvious curve of his mouth, but he might be checking if a different agent of shield is around to tease him about this, too).

it only takes him a few seconds to decide. ]

Don't worry about it. [ the drink, that is, but his answer's at odds with the way he leans forward, minimising the space between them. she said kiss me, not sit around and wait to be kissed, after all. as soon as she sets his pint aside, eggsy reaches out to cup her jaw and tips down to press a quick, soft kiss to her mouth. he doesn't know the parameters of whatever wager she lost, but he assumes she doesn't want to snog a random bloke. ]

( of course she's going to worry about it. a deal is a deal, after all, and even a wager-fueled deal deserves to be honored; whether eggsy wants the drink or not, she'll get him one. maybe not immediately, but at some point, there'll be one.

for now, though, she's got to deal with her own reactions — like the slight flush, for one, that blooms across the apples of her cheeks, chalked up to sudden body heat rolling off his blacks. there's the warmth, too, of his hand against her jaw, worth noting and filing away in some folder in the back of her mind. the kiss itself is quick, brief; he's pulling back before it even goes anywhere, looking like the metaphorical canary-eating cat on his barstool. not that it was bad, really. just... unmemorable. good, though. satisfactory, even.

she thinks that said kiss might do it, too, even if he technically did kiss her instead of the other way around, but she's quickly proven wrong by the hooting laughter of her fellow better across the room. (no pass, dearie! don't flake us now!) so, word to the wise: the colonists are particular. oh well. )

Sorry about this.

( she's not, really, but it's worth saying before diving back in for something more akin to a proper (as the redcoats call it) snog, her own hands cupping his jaw on both sides for better leverage. she's fucking short, okay, don't judge her. )

i actually can’t and don’t believe you 👀

tailorable - 2018-07-17 19:18 (UTC) - Expand

i said don't @ me.

evite - 2018-07-17 19:53 (UTC) - Expand

well i said it first!!

tailorable - 2018-07-18 16:06 (UTC) - Expand

daisy johnson — aos / mcu — open.

don't @ me

xoxo.

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can you believe i've never used this icon before.

i.

oh no all might

he's doing his best

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ii

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wildcard! exploration!

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the march

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ii: