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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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They're somewhat edible, though, and Jim can't help the moment of tension in him as the strangely friendly wolf-space-penguin licks him. Pleasedon'teatme, he thinks, as teeth so close to his face and animal speed negates the fact that his phaser is on his hip.
Oh, just vandalizing his hair. ]
I've been slobbered, [ he observes-laments, left to puzzle over this. Jim shakes it off and gets to his feet, rucks up his hair in attempt to fix it, but it's probably a lost cause. ]
So, your name's not Fluff. Snowy? Fido? Rex? Wolfy? .. Yeah, you're right, those all suck.
i want fanart of jim hanging out with her in penguin kigurumi at this point
And, ah. It's a little different, but similar to what he'd collected earlier, embedded in the side. Her ears prick, and when she blows air from her nose, it's accompanied with a quick, high-pitched whine. She does one of those little jigs on impatient paws that don't want to be still, stepping backward to tilt her head one way then the other at him. She's clueless about space ships and technology, despite one of her oldest friends having crash landed on her home in one, so she's not positive this will do anyone any good, honestly.
Just in case, though, and as if demanding he come take a look, she tries to fit her lower teeth into a crevice, but it's too tightly pressed together, she can't latch onto anything. The second whine is shorter, somewhat deeper, an unverbalized complaint if there ever was one.]
opens ms paint
[ La de da. He's of a mind to head to another room, but then Snowball here starts making noises and trying to chew on a console. Jim frowns and makes his way over. ]
Don't hurt your teeth, [ he cautions, in that tone of voice humans use when they're scared of stepping on a cat's tail. He leans in and: ] ... Huh.
[ Side-eyes the space penguin in disguise. ] Good find.
don't play games with my heart
In an earnestness to continue being beneficial, she's already trotting further into the ship, exuding confidence.]
https://imgur.com/7DPjI5b
He meanders a little, taking time to examine the make and state of the ship, considering the progression of the Natha, and wondering at their decision to leave the wreck here. Was this area always meant to be a-- hunting blind? Or did they abandon it with no shielding, assuming the natives would simply never find it?
Into another room. ] Hello again.
I LOVE IT
There's a slopping hill of snow slanted against the ship wall, obscuring exposed damage, wires, who knows what else. Perhaps all useless, but the snow is packed firmly, and there's the split gap of a mess of some things beneath it. She's chipping and slicing claws against it to dig intently when he's walked in, and she grumbles, adjusts to other shoulder, toes of hind paws splayed wide for bracing.
Wolves have problems with obsession. Once their minds are fixated, they pursue relentlessly. Never mind her coming into existence long before even trains were invented, long before the wheel, if he's here to gather, she's going to at least try to help him look for interesting parts.]
8D;
[ Mild inquiry. Maybe an entity with the ability to converse will show up, wondering if Jim's lost his mind. He gingerly approaches, peers over, but doesn't nudge the wolf aside. He is a squishy mortal with no desire to end up accidentally nicked by sharp claws. ]
You've gotta have a name, though. Maybe you don't speak English. [ He starts rattling off 'snowy' in different languages, some terran, some not. ] Nieve? Izh? Yuki? ... Spot? [ Not 'snow' in anything. ]
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What would it mean to him to know? She thinks of Akira, and carving the kanji of her name for him into soft snow. Soft, fresh, it was simple. It wasn't difficult. They were sitting by a campfire, but this person is on a quest of a kind, isn't he? Would he have the patience for her to carve her name into snow that's settled and frozen over?
It doesn't matter to her. The Celestials gave her the name she has, she never saw use for them before, and in a way, to have someone dub her anything is as if they've chosen a name they like best for her. She can't be put off by that. What would the name Amaterasu mean to him? Anything? He's persistent; she's in serious deliberation about how to share it with him, though she wonders if this would impact his faith or lack of it in any way.
It may be meaningless to him, and then, any name would do. Things are, whatever name given to them. Same as people, same as her. Spot doesn't change her. None of this mulling changes the fact, either, that he's the first person who seems adamant to figure it out, as if she must be in possession of one. As if his priorities have shifted since she joined him. Would it unnerve him to see her remove clumps of snow to spell it for him, or to find the means to convince him for his phone and type it? It only occurs to her now that she left that useful ear cuff behind, uncertain who to find to help her put it back on, worried she might crush it in her mouth without meaning to. That would've spared him from this conviction. So far no one has seemed all that averse to a wolf's thoughts sounding in their own head.
Usually, a wolf remains undeterred, but if he's serious, she'll meet him and match him in it, and she's been very still, contemplative, staring at him while she considers options and the best one. It may be that he won't give up, that he's as stubborn as her. There's very little she can do these days, and to give her name in some form when it's been asked, and asked, and asked of her is the very least that she can do, isn't it? Mind made up, she hefts herself up, and pads around to find snow that's a little softer than what she's been trying to dig into. It's still not fresh like the snow she was able to nose through for someone else, but it'll be less irritation on her teeth.
Claws won't work, she could accidentally scrape wrong. Heavy sigh through muzzle, she catches his eyes for a beat, unspoken all right, and after all his wondering, he ought to be patient. This isn't an effortless task for her. With some time, a handful of minutes, her scooping small paths, connecting lines into the mound of snow she's decided on with her lower teeth, letters begin to form: A, then M, another A after. If he doesn't leave her, if he can manage to wait long enough, before too much longer, she'll have shaped the entirety of her name for him. She glances to it, then steps back to be certain he can read it clearly, her eyes returned to him now, in her own patient neutrality. She hopes he won't make a fuss. Both about her being literate and the fact she took so long to come to this conclusion. There were many reasons, but perhaps the most obvious is how much work it took her to accomplish. Obviously, she has no voice, nor does she have the thumbs to write as easily as being who has them.]
no subject
Whatever, though, he's picking through parts, his attention on the wolf somewhere between idle acceptance of companionship and being wary of a sudden turn. She may still be a wild animal, despite the apparent friendliness. And even domesticated animals can be a danger.
And then: whatever's going on with that. It takes Jim a minute to wander over and look, and the expressions that cycle over his face are--
Interesting.
The silence he maintains while she's at work is a stark contrast to his previous ramblings. When she's done-- ]
I must sound like a real asshole.
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Persistence pays off, she feels; even if his wasn't intended.
He insults himself, and her head tilts with a groaning-whimper, doubtful note. No, she's thinking. Why would he call himself that? She disagrees. Then, unthinking, though ears dropping in her docility, she steps toward him, but suddenly wonders if he might be frightened further by the strangeness of her, that she can do more than other dogs, and their ancestors, and she pauses before reaching him to drop her head instead. Guilty, uncertain thing, shuffling front paws, seeking permission for nearness. And, he understands without her spelling it out, doesn't he? That it's difficult for her to write like this. She understands much, but most of the time she's voiceless. She doesn't mean to be inconvenient.]
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I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, [ he says. ] It's just that my job is to explore and make contact with new planets and new cultures, so I'm supposed to be a little quicker on the uptake with things like this. [ His tone turns rueful, and he smiles a little. ] And a little more graceful about it, but I don't know if I ever managed that part even at home, honestly.
[ HE JUST FEELS DUMB ALRIGHT he knew you were a space penguin. ]
Thank you for sharing your name with me, Amaterasu. [ He should be pronouncing it right; Jim speaks pretty good Japanese. He speaks a good number of Earth languages, being too smart for his own good and once-upon-a-time possessed of a desire to annoy the heck out of a xenolinguistic major friend. ] My name's Jim Kirk, I'm a captain in Starfleet.
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