❪ 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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[quintessent]

[Ear scritches turn into a gentle stroking of the wolf’s fur as they both settle in, the warmth of her new companion making the frigid air around them bearable.]

The Natha’s decision to put me back in stasis couldn’t have been more ill-timed, [She laughs a little,] Imagine my surprise, to wake up and find the ship empty.

[Hence falling so far behind everyone else. They might not be able to communicate like Allura and her mice, but that doesn’t mean they couldn’t understand one another. At the very least, it was nice to not feel so alone with her thoughts.

Her expression falls,] I can’t stop thinking about home. What I needed to do. What I should have done.

[She knows that her new memories are just that—memories. Her brain catching up to things that got left behind in the storm, but it all felt real and new and raw. Even while laying on a forgotten frozen wasteland, in some distant future beyond the war with the Galra, she still found herself contemplating the next moves for a coalition that no longer existed.

Distantly, she realizes that she’s fallen silent, and she shakes herself out of it, giving her wolf friend one last scratch behind the ears.] You must be tired. When morning comes, we can catch up to everyone.

(Don’t worry about it at all! I’m super slow too so it’s all good.)

[illuminating]

[She herself contains expressions that aren't easily deciphered. There's the barest movement of ears, as if inclining to listen intently, the motion to brow bones, quiet blows from muzzle that push her nose forward. Nuanced things that could (and sometimes are, even for her) chalked up to meaningless micro-expressions. Friendly dogs understand very little human language, but are still content to listen, compelled by amicable tones.

Whether realized or not, she's truly listening here, engaged, absorbing what she can, wondering at the mystery and history giving the simple syllables Allura shares the weight behind them. I can’t stop thinking about home. What I needed to do. What I should have done. These, accompanied with that expression, strike her the most. A mirror of words. Inwardly, she's cursing her inability to verbalize, and her frustration produces in fretful whimpers, while she tries to nudge snout under hand, keep this young lady as tethered to this place with her as possible.

Many times, countless, innumerable times, she's thought similar things. These are the words of someone who's lost a great deal; they're the words of someone who may have once been a pillar, or were regarded as a pillar, or who made themselves into a pillar, knowing that there were many who needed one, some symbol of hope. Her heart lurches a little, because as they are now, she can't tell her as painful as it is, staring behind yourself means you can't see to take a step forward. History has a way of following like a shadow, but to find footing in the present, to learn from what happened in order to proceed and strive to do better, is all anyone can do. That has to be enough. It has to mean something.

She is tired, but she's thankful she found her. That she can know from her own account Allura will make it back not only in one piece, but not alone. She wants to acknowledge how difficult traveling alone, after awakening the way she did, must have been. Not that she can do this well, all the same, she still swipes tongue a couple times, grooming gestures, over the back of one of her hands. The equivalent of a mother patting the back of a hand, all steeped in the same meaning: comfort. Concerned she may end up losing feeling from legs, Ammy picks herself up one more time to lay out beside Allura instead, but she tucks in close all the same, curling her legs under herself, and lets her head settle finally near shoulder.]

[quintessent]

[If she could understand her, Allura would appreciate the words of wisdom, and even without them, the appreciation is there nonetheless. The wolf's comforting form, her whimpers and ear twitches convincing Allura that she is being heard beyond the simple companionship of a canine. She's found friends in stranger lifeforms, and there's something instinctive there that fills Allura with trust. The wolf came all this way in the winter and cold for her, after all.

Or maybe she's just so in need of a quiet, nonjudgmental ear, that's just what she wants to believe. Back on board her ship, she always had the mice to talk to, when things were too complicated or she was not ready to talk to Coran or the humans. Sometimes one just needs to talk and be listened to. Either way, she finds comfort in the gentle nose touches and the canine lap of a tongue over her hand.

Her wolf friend settles in and Allura, without really thinking about it, Allura turns on her side, curling into the warm fur, with one arm looped gently around the beast's side. From there, she can feel the gentle rise and fall of the creature's steady breathing and, when the wind dies down, a quiet heartbeat. It reminds her of being a child. Curling into her mother's embrace. There, she finally finds sleep, her inner demons kept at bay for at the night.]

(Feel free to jump ahead into morning unless you wanted anything to happen during the night that wakes them up!)]

[illuminating]

[If nothing else, being unable to proceed on some journey away from life has only brought her mothering tendencies more to the forefront. She's never been without an unconditional, unending affection for people and all manner of life along with them, but she had priorities that lay with chasing away evils out of man's hands. This preoccupied her; kept her legs going, and rarely, had she the time to sit or lay with someone. Now, it seems she has plenty of time for this.

And at times, it's a little alarming to be hung onto. Never bad, never. Never a cause for discomfort. More that she's takenback that they can catch onto her need to love them, while expecting nothing in return, and still reach out for her. This is the case now, her heart doing a little skip when Allura shows no qualms about holding onto her. She's thankful. Perhaps it has everything to do with the hundred years she lived being feared or loathed. Then, no one reached for her, except to strike, and while it wasn't difficult to step out of the way, at times, she let them. Their anger and suffering was deep, and in some ways, she'd caused it, dragging the very same evil she pursued down to the earth. Keeping herself from love, in its simplest, purest form, is impossible, but she hasn't come to expect it.

Accepting her this way so soon after meeting her is love to her. She can't be convinced otherwise. Allura doesn't have to find sanctuary in her, she could send her away, she could turn her back. It's more than acceptance, truly, to respond this way.

For the whole of the night, Amaterasu doesn't move, and sleeps soundly and protectively close to her. By daybreak, she's the first one out of the little snow-made hut. She doesn't attempt to wake Allura immediately, since she knows she'll need her strength, but as for herself, she's already ventured out doors. The wind is still harsh, still brutal, still testing their stamina and ability to make it all the way. Other than whipping her fur continuously, or making her squint into her blinks, wolf hardly seems deterred. Whether Allura remains sleeping or soon starts to awaken herself, her beastly companion busies herself with a morning stretch, and roll, sinking deep into the snow to kick her legs, and then she's off. Not to abandon, but to race aimlessly and work the blood through her legs and system back and forth not far from the opening.

It's a wonder anyone can dart, and spring, and flop, and roll, and frolic, and bounce in this kind of weather, but she's constructed for such endurance, and she knows well that vigorous motion will help to warm her up. Once she feels revitalized from their long sleep, she pops enthusiastically back into the little hut to see if Allura is up by now. In either case, she throws her paws down in telling play bow, and sways her head with rumbling nonsense, and then she goes to her, a little more aggressively than the night before, but not unkindly. She knows it will do her even better to get moving, and please forgive her, but yes, even this early, she's already trying to incite her into play. Foolishly grumbling and snuffling under her hair, pawing her, if not nudging her to get her up or to roll over to get up, then clambering on her to gingerly gnaw her wrist.

There's intervals that she bounces away to dip into play bow again, chattily rumble at her again, wave her tail in the air, and when she's satisfied she's willing to face the day, she drags her pack over to her. There's still food stored in it, isn't there? They can't make a move on until she eats.]

[quintessent]

[When Amaterasu returns, she'll find an awakened Allura. She's kneeling, in the middle of twisting her long hair back into a bun on her head with practiced ease. The gold of her tiara glimmers, sitting in the snow next to her as she gets ready for the day. Her hands are up, affixing a pin when her wolf friend bounds in, spring in her step, and Allura laughs at the obvious call to play.]

Please be patient [She nearly loses her progress, a large white-lavender curl escaping from her hands before she returns it to it's place. A few seconds later, she's finished, and there's a moment that looks like quiet reverence as she returns the tiara to its place on her brow, but it disappears in an instant, under a smile as she leans forward on her knees to give her wolf friend a good rub down.]

I am glad you're still here, my friend. [Or worried that she'd only been a figment of her imagination, when she woke up alone. As Amaterasu tugs the bag over, Allura nods,]

I don't believe we were properly introduced before. I am Princess Allura. [She waits a moment, then her smile turns apologetic,] I am afraid I don't understand your language, and I'm not sure if you know mine. [It wouldn't be the first time she's attempted to talk to an animal that didn't understand,] But that doesn't mean we can't be friends.

[illuminating]

[Bag brought over to her, as Allura introduces herself, Ammy settles to lay on her stomach, face angled up to her for listening. A sweet princess. To a wolf, and even to a god, titles like this are meaningless. It wouldn't be intended as an insult: only that everyone is equal. This includes gods, at least where she's from. She never expected kneeling at altars or shrines, long before she had a tangible form. She sees no difference between Allura and anyone else, and makes no particular fuss over this bit of information.

However, it does make her reflect on the Queen she had to allow to be sacrificed for the greater good. She arrived on the Station before it actually happened, but Queen Himiko seemed resigned to her fate. Her eyes told Amaterasu's when they first stood in each other's company what she anticipated coming, and that there was no out. And so, while she had yet to witness the loss of someone important to her, someone who faced her fate with grace and conviction, she feels drawn by the parallels in knowing this dear girl and Himiko are royals—her chin goes to Allura's knee to be quietly in the moment with her—and while they may not have been mothers themselves, they have the same concerning disposition as mothers, and this must be what it means to humans who are on this position. Trying to watch over whole countries or lands, while still remaining as human and flawed as anyone else. It has to be trying, it has to be tiresome, and yet both of them have a strength she wonders if they were or are aware of.

For everything else, she wholeheartedly agrees. Connections reach deeper than words, and this is why everything began without them. All life interconnected and learned and understood through feeling. Her tail goes and goes in perfect circles, hitting the snowy floor, they are absolutely friends.]

[quintessent]

[Allura wouldn't expect any fuss or genuflection to be made. While she holds her title in high esteem, it's more because of what it means to her—as a leader, as a member of her family and her people—than any sense of superiority over others. Truly, she no longer had a nation or people of which she could claim sovereignty over, especially now that she was here, among people who had no memory of her people, but being the daughter of King Alfor, the last surviving member of the Altean royal family, was as deep a part of her identity as the name her mother and father had given her as a child.

Hair and crown addressed, Allura finally reaches for the bag near Amaterasu, pausing to give the wolf a scratch behind the ears before picking through the dwindling supplies.]

Are you hungry? [She fishes out a package of dried meats, and another that seemed to be made up of nuts and dried fruits, offering the former to her fuzzy companion. With a laugh,] If I am to tell the truth, I'm still not quite used to the food they give us here.

[illuminating]

(moved!)