❪ 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

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[icingonthecake]

((i'm on mobile a lot, so i hate brackets, but if you want to bracket back at me that is fine!))

Cold doesn't bother Axel so much--perks of wielding fire, he guesses--but even he is feeling this weather a bit. Normally he's the sort that can go out in the snow in a hoodie and be fine, but this storm is definitely more extreme than anything he's ever experienced. He rubs his hands together and stuffs them back into his pockets, then looks up when he hears howling.

Wolves? Should they be worried? It sounds really close, too. He squints through the snow in the direction of the sound, and in the shifting white, he can see a form up ahead, within the crowd of people trudging along. Oh, maybe it's just someone's dog? Okay, that's all right, then. He likes dogs.

As he draws nearer, though, he can see that creature this is definitely too big to be just any old dog. She would blend in almost entirely with the snow were it not for the strange red markings in her coat. He's never seen a dog with markings like that. As he continues walking and approaches her where she has her head thrown back, casting her voice into the heavens, he smiles a little and pauses near her to wait until she's finished her song before making a clicking sound with his tongue, hoping to get her attention without startling her.

"Hey there," he says with a grin, dropping to a crouch and holding one hand out to see if she'd like pets. She seems fine around people, obviously, but he knows better than to just touch a strange animal without waiting for permission. "Do you belong to somebody, or are you just tagging along for fun?"

[illuminating]

He's near her, and she doesn't mean to be rude, she doesn't have the rules for manners that people do. He's near her, so she knows he's fine, and she doesn't think to look at him yet. Her gaze and face are both intently pointed to the left, staring widely into the wind blown distance. One of her ears turning subtly, gauging the placing of snow-crushing foots steps, how many are close, are there some too far off. She has the bearing of someone on guard and watchful, and she doesn't regard him until his clicking.

The unmoving ear, closest to him, whips sharply to it, and then the rest of her follows, her ears folding passively with mumbling whines. Sheepish. She's sorry for not coming to him sooner; she's distracted. When she dips her head to learn him through his offered hand, her tail is already wagging, a little apologetically. It stops abruptly, however. She only sniffs for a couple seconds, and something, too far for regular ears, must catch her attention because her head and ears spring up tense to stare hard behind her.

She swipes tongue over nose, vibrates out a distressed whine, and then she's at it again. Two smaller howls, one medium-lengthened one, and then half of one when she seems to recall that she was going to greet him, moving to investigate up to his elbow once she's through for the minute.

[icingonthecake]

For what it's worth, he would never have thought she was being rude. She seems a bit busy doing... canine things. He can wait. She finally turns to him, ducking her head to run it under his hand, and he digs his fingers into the thick fur to scratch behind one ear, smiling.

He withdraws his hand when she turns sharply and sort of whines, and he shades his eyes from the blinding snow to follow her line of vision. Of course he can't see or hear whatever she does, but once she's done again and turns back to him, he laughs softly.

"Got a lot to say, don't'cha?" he asks, grinning as her nose moves up his sleeve. His hand goes toward her neck to feel for a collar, but he doesn't find one. "Are you here with somebody?" he asks. "I wish I knew your name; feels dumb to just call ya Pooch or Fluffy or something."

[illuminating]

Truthfully, she's likely in an excess of worrying. She's not what she used to be, which is a fact she can't forget. She was never able to finish what she needed to do before The Storm hit, was never able to prove herself completely, and here, she fell asleep again, she wasn't present when something horrible happened, wasn't able to keep anyone safe. She was informed, before the dragon, people were taken and tortured, and it's agitating her to lose any member of the group from her sight, or to hear them staggering along.

Gods shouldn't get involved with the evil of man, but if she's here, can she turn a blind eye? She's too much a lady of action for that. And perhaps she couldn't banish supernatural evils from the earth back home, perhaps she wasn't here when the dragon was brought back from the dead, but she can strive to be certain no one will freeze to death in the snow or be grabbed by some unidentifiable foe. There are no demons for her to place her uses upon, and so, as a mother, she's trying her best, and it's tending to get the better of her.

Her groan when he rubs her ear, when he's checking her neck for collar are no less appreciative, but she seems hesitant to cave to her usual gluttony for attention. He may find her dipping, like she wants to collapse into his lap, but then she flinches upright, hiccuping whines, turning to look away, or even straining to look around his arm in the direction of those walking further beyond them. There's not a single way to tell him, but names like Pooch and Fluffy have been commonly given to her, she doesn't mind them. Either way, obviously, she seems unbothered by his conflict on what to call her.

[icingonthecake]

The dog--wolf?--seems distressed, and he isn't quite sure why. She's friendly enough, bumping her head into his hand and wagging her tail enthusiastically, but her whines indicate duress. When he notices she keeps looking behind him, at the rest of the group still trudging along, he rubs her ear again.

"Don't worry too much, I think," he says, rising back to his feet. "I mean, sure, every bunch has its bad apples, but most of the folks I've run into here seem pretty decent; I doubt there's many of 'em who would just keep walking if someone fell or was getting left behind."

He's not sure she understands (but he's not ruling it out; he's met a lot of talking animals before, and he's not about to just discount anything anymore), but hey, he had to try, right? He furrows his brow a little and takes his bag off his shoulder, rummaging for a moment to pull out one of the little ration packs he'd been given. She's not carrying anything--a dog wouldn't have been given rations, naturally. He's not sure when the last time she ate might have been, so he pulls out one of the little jerky strips he's been afforded and offers it to her.

"Y'hungry?" he asks. "They didn't give us a whole lot, but you look way too fancy to be wild; you're probably used to eating pretty good, right? You're prolly famished after all this nonsense. Go on, take it."

[illuminating]

She's reluctant to give into his suggestion to quit worrying, eyes and ears continuing to stay on high alert. At least until he explains (or from her perspective, reminds her) the others will most likely aid each other. Almost at last, her ears settle on him, and her gaze does too, for a considerable length, as if she's finally content to visit despite her agitation. He's right. And she needs to give them the opportunity and room to help each other. Her doubts aren't entirely subsided, bad evils can still ambush two or even three people at once, can devastate a whole land.

Her purpose and use is to mother, and be a mother, and without her usual means, much of the time she doesn't know what to do with herself. She's lost a lot, she's heard of things that have happened, it keeps her on edge—if she lets up too much... This kind of feeling is what it amounts to. However, he inspires her to try to let up a little, so rather than another chorus of whines she sighs heavily out of her snout and tucks her ears down to listen to him, faintly tilting her face one way or the other.

Instinctively, her ears perk to more attention at the offered food, and almost guiltily her nose is wriggling. Then, he claims she looks fancy, and she... almost looks startled. She can imagine Issun's unending, uproarious laughter, his tiny fist pounding her head, or tugging the hair there. He'd probably say something like, Are you kidding me? Ammy? And in her old language, she'd admonish him ineffectually: What's wrong with him thinking I look nice?

There's the slight crushing sound of snow under her paws as she takes one, then a second step closer, tempted by the smell of the jerky. Her nose twitches near it, for a whole minute, she must seem as if she's really considering it. But the one who needs food to survive is him—and rather than pinching her teeth on one end, she nudges her head against his hand grasping the meat and presses it forward, stepping meaningfully after it to push it back toward him. He should eat it. Go on, then.

[icingonthecake]

She actually looks surprised for a moment when he says she looks fancy, and he's sure he has to be imagining it. Dogs don't really have facial expressions like people do, right?

Holding the jerky out, he smiles encouragingly, and is then plainly startled when she refuses the offering. He's not sure he's ever met a dog that refused a handout, especially a meaty one.

"You're an odd one, aren't'cha?" he says, but there's no indictment in his tone. He can see she wants the jerky--there's a longing in her eyes that any dog would have when faced with a treat--but she won't take it. She seems to want him to keep it, which is sweet, he guesses, but... well he hadn't really considered that a dog could be that considerate.

He rubs his chin with his free hand, then grins.

"All right, how 'bout we split it, then?" he asks, breaking the jerky piece in two. He pops half into his mouth and then offers the other half to her again. "Go on, then; I'm not gonna starve, cross my heart."

[illuminating]

People are good, inherently.

This is what crosses her mind in a subdued kind of captivation, while she's compelled to watch him tear the jerky in two. She's already sending her tail into enthusiastic swings, and she does the scarcest toss of her head, with her upright ears, and keenly, proud puffed chest, before a little, excitable sneeze lets loose. Very little, a noise of agreement, or poorly contained joy.

She can be satisfied with this deal, and gladly, she accepts her piece, throwing it to molars to chew it down with the same... manners expected of any wolf or dog. That is: open-mouthed, smacking, with rows of teeth showing and the blacks of her lips, tips ears almost quivering in rhythm to her gnawing. It's harder to work being dried, but she doesn't seem put out. The taste of it brings out her greed of food, though, and if he moves toward her, he'll find her angling her shoulder toward him, not giving him the opportunity to take it back now that she has it.

As it is, he caught her in a rare moment. If circumstances had seemed better, and food not too scarce, she probably would've tried to thieve something from him, if not outright begged for it.

((◍•﹏•) please pardon the delay!)