❪ introlog: #6 ❫ city of secrets

[natha]

You've spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Now, the time to put all your survival training into practice has arrived: El Nysa needs you, and you're here to help the planet thrive. Are you ready? THE DESCENT     All refugees on the station are called to the hangar, where a large-scale teleporter awaits. Simply step onto the space between the arrays and wait; everyone will be sent down to the planet together. Before they depart, all refugees will be given a cold weather survival kit with warm clothing, rations, and bedding. The arrays build into a brilliant wash of light, creating a column that travels all the way from Thesa Station to the surface of El Nysa, teleporting the refugees to the planet on an aurora. Once on the planet's surface, refugees receive one last message from Darma. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet we must ask you to brave further peril. Within Nadril are the secrets to how poor Ysverai's revival was hidden from our sight and how this disaster has come to our star. Find the first refugee from beyond this planet, a man named Magda. He will not speak to us, for much has come between us, but to you… If you prove yourselves, he may be willing to answer your questions. We beseech you, for there is a veil over Nadril that hides all within from us. There may yet be more untold dangers waiting to befall this planet. For the good of all who make this world home, we ask you to lend us your aid. There is yet one more favor we would ask of you. In warding off the Storm's encroachment, the physical aspect of ourselves that you call Thesa Station was damaged. We must remain to continue repairs to El Nysa and to deal with Ysverai, but there should be suitable technology within Nadril that could be used for spare parts. If you have the chance to find it and can return it to us, it would hasten— Darma's message crackles with static, another image overlaying hers — her broadcast is cut off and replaced with another. A more sullen and alien voice takes Darma’s place, overlapping on itself in an ominous reveal. It has been a long, perilous year for you, refugees. And yet you’ve only just arrived here. To say I’m not disappointed in your… generation would be to lie, and I am nothing if not an honest creature. But I suppose these have been unusual circumstances. You must ask yourself this — are you only here as Darma's lapdogs? I can assure you, it's not worth being on the Natha's leash. With time, that will be something you'll have to learn for yourself. If you're so determined to come find Nadril, then follow the path north, and you'll find the border. What awaits you is revelation, if you're up to the challenge. A FROZEN LAND     The refugees land on a literally frozen world, both in temperature and time. Curls of icy wind hold swirls of snow aloft and an uncanny silence is broken only by the crunch of hoarfrost underfoot. Only Darma's protection allows the refugees to move through this frozen world — and movement is very necessary. Bitter cold sneaks through even the thickest clothing and without warning, a snowstorm rises: unnaturally quickly, a wall of white howls directly in the refugee's path. Bizarrely, the way back is perfectly calm; it's obvious that this storm is no product of nature. Magda's challenge becomes clear: the only way to Nadril lies through this storm. Visibility within the storm is near zero, the whiteout hiding any landmarks from view and making navigation near impossible. The only guidance refugees have is a sporadic path of faint, greenish lights, easily lost in the raging storm. Refugees need all the survival skills they practiced on Thesa Station to survive, for getting lost alone is a death sentence. Luckily, those separated from the group can happen upon guiding lights Magda has planted throughout the tundra. These blue-white sparks cause frostbite if handled recklessly, but they also serve as directional anchors, turning into ghostly flames that lead lost souls back to the path to Nadril. The trek through the storm will be no mean feat and will last for the better part of three days. By the time the refugees reach Nadril's gate, most will find themselves exhausted and running on fumes. As the snowstorm dies away and a gap in the glittering forcefield around the city opens to usher the refugees inside, it's clear that Nadril is a different beast. A WARM(?) WELCOME     I. Despite the unforgiving journey, entering Nadril is painless. Once inside, characters will be greeted by their predecessors: the original refugees who made this advanced city. They'll immediately be offered medical attention, as well as warm cider and blankets. But it's obvious that the Nadril citizens prefer higher tech to fend off the weather: they also offer wristlets and ear cuffs that that double as mittens and earmuffs by creating warm bubbles of air. The earrings also feature a few quality of life programs, such as timed alarms and thought-to-speech messaging. However, both programs are in beta stages so it's not unusual for a stray thought to accidentally slip through or an alarm to accidentally ring at an inopportune time. II. Refugees are offered free lodging in a large, crystalline building crafted from ice. Despite the coarse building material, the ice is unmelting and surprisingly well-insulated, and the beds are as warm and cozy. The rooms are, however, small. The sleeping quarters house two people, and are some cross between an igloo and a capsule hotel. Though built for efficiency over comfort, all rooms are also outfitted with the latest Nadril AI, RoboAlfred, or Ralf for short. This helpful program is installed in practically all the furnishings: the closet tells guests to bundle up, the bathroom sink reminds them to brush their teeth, and the mirror offers helpful fashion tips. Ralf's personality matrix still needs polish, though: it may very well insult your clothes and passively-aggressively question your lifestyle choices for the entire stay. III. Though not as advanced as Thesa Station, the colony has technology far beyond the rest of the continent, such as rudimentary AIs and mechanical transportation. Nadril's skyline is a point of pride — refugees can take a (literal) lightrail that gives an aerial view of the colony, which is hewn almost entirely from ice and rock. Despite its tech, Nadril is much more sparsely populated than Olympia and Wyver, and its residents stay near a central hub: a Natha refugee drop ship, Central, which has crashed and long embedded itself into the earth. Central is similar to an older, smaller, grounded model of Thesa Station, in functional order with round-the-clock solar power. Within Central are lounges similar to ones on the Station, though many of the damaged areas have been converted. They include repair stations, different wings dedicated to science, botany, astrology, and mechanics, and a research and history facility, which has a smattering of technology from planets beyond El Nysa — including your own. The staff here don't mind if anything is sampled and studied, but objects cannot be taken from the labs. IV. On the outskirts of the central hub, many will find several curious looking bots with insect-like wings perched about high traffic walkways. Simply passing the bots will cause a dizzying flash before a series of photos print out. Upon closer inspection, people will find that these images reflect stills taken from their home worlds as they remember it. Unfortunately, these photos only last a couple of hours at best. At that time, they will revert back to regular pictures of the refugees. People will be encouraged to share these images of their worlds. The residents of Nadril comprehend the value of remembering one's origins, and will be pleased to see that people still hold memories of old homes close to them. RECREATION IN NADRIL     I. Small, mechanical creatures scampering through the city are a common sight. Ask anyone, and they’ll tell you that they come from a shop called Paws About Town. They’re very useful, as companions, gophers, and couriers (though the more mischievous will note that they’re just small enough to keep tabs on people without being noticed). Premade robotic pets are available on display inside the shop. They come in all shapes, but small sizes; one may be able to find robots that even look like miniature creatures from their homeworld. These are a part of a new, highly customizable line with programmable personalities. Customers have the chance to take pets for a one-day trial run. Those who don’t know how to program may want to enlist more knowledgeable aid, but the pets come with instructional pamphlets for basic personality traits such as obedience, helpfulness, playfulness, and bloodthirst. For returns, the switch to wipe the robot's personality to a blank slate is on the back of its neck, right between a switch to invert all traits, and a switch to have them learn by observing. Try not to press the wrong switch — you might wind up with a pet with a mind of its own! II. A. The Frosty Tap Cantina is a thriving hub of activity, but one of the major draws is the self-service bar: molecular mixology is wildly popular here. Playing with drink compositions can be a game in and of itself, and newcomers to the cantina will find that the bartender — a cheerful woman with lilac skin and three eyes — is always happy to give them a few tips on how to use the wide array of tools within reach of the barstools. All manner of drinks are possible — from glowing, layered cocktails, to clear drinks with colored, spherical bubbles and vividly-colored shots that give off their own smoke. There's a nightly contest in the cantina for the most creative drink created by a team — this may be as good a time as any to partner up with someone and see what can you come up with. Winner gets all their drinks for the night free! And, hey, even if you don't win, you get to drink whatever you make. The well-lubricated patrons of the bar are eager to challenge anyone nearby to a different sort of drinking game… Just how well can you hold your liquor? B. Holo-screens in the cantina are nearly always broadcasting some match or another of a game that looks very much like hockey, albeit played with sticks that light up and a puck that changes shape from time to time. Colonists here merely refer to the game as "the sport," and one of their favored pastimes is betting. However, they don't use currency — they wager dares. Nadril colonists are a tough, weathered lot, and they prefer to speak with actions over silver. Colonists will urge the refugees to take part as well. Common dares range from the ridiculous (lead a sing-a-long, attempt to make someone with a poker face smile) to the suggestive (kiss the person in the cantina you find most attractive, strip off a piece of clothing), to the outright reckless (venture out into the snow for a certain amount of time, and no one will judge if you find some company to keep warm). The colonists are unfazed by even the most insane or tawdry of dares — but you'll certainly be called a killjoy for refusing too often! Why not grab a friend and give it a whirl, or challenge a rival to a dare yourself? THE MISSION     I. On the outskirts of Nadril is the communications tower of the old refugees. This is where Magda resides, monitoring Nadril's technological protections, the extent of the Natha’s influence, and running his own personal projects for El Nysa’s technological advancement. It is isolated, filled with research labs and relics of the past refugees who have come to El Nysa — a living mausoleum of worlds swallowed up by the Storm whose peoples have refused to forget where they came from. Crew photos line the walls of the tower: pictures of alien families and friends, the refugees who came to Nadril before you. Each group of photos gradually becomes smaller in number, and the most recent of the pictures are from half a century ago. Magda's picture can be found among the first group of refugees, an unusually small cluster of photos dating back centuries in El Nysa's past. I have been on this planet for nearly two centuries. Life has come, evolved, and collided in an ever expanding culture. But Darma fears interference, and made this place a prison, with she our warden, stifling the growth of the creatures native to this world rather than encouraging them to flourish. She sent you here for answers in her stead because she knows I'll spurn her, and after seeing what that fool Raysc has wrought, I'll give you them — not for Darma's sake, but because I trust after all the Natha have done to you, you'll understand my decision. Mistakes were made, and I won't hide them. You've made it here so there's some mettle to you, and unlike the Orbiters, I'm not interested in hiding the secrets of the dangers we face. I gave Raysc what he needed to keep his actions hidden from Darma's eyes — what he needed to advance the primitive magics the Natha had doomed him to. It was old Natha tech, Darma's very own used against her. Hilarious, isn't it? Raysc learned of Nadril, and like you, braved the snow to find his way here. He proved his worth and his determination, and he spoke of a brighter future, El Nysa coming into its own, its people realizing their true potential, unhindered by the shackles that had been put upon them. I believed him. He had vision — or so I thought. In truth, he was a fool. A madman. He wasted the opportunity I gave him on his petty vengeance. But not everyone on this planet is such an idiot. Surely you lot aren't. The Natha are hiding things from us — about the Storm, about everything. And here in Nadril, we're going to find all those secrets. What's it going to be? Will you help us, or are you going to stay obedient dogs on Darma's leash? Magda isn't too talkative yet; after all, the new flock of refugees may just be here as eyes and ears for the Orbiters. But what he has said leaves you with plenty to talk about, and if you can earn his trust by helping out around Nadril, he doubtless has a great deal more to reveal. II. Central isn't the only Natha ship that made its way to El Nysa — another, crashed just outside Nadril's borders, is little more than a junk heap. It's here that you'll find the spare parts Darma asked you to retrieve for Thesa Station. What remains of the ship's hull serves as a windbreak, and snow has built up against it, turning the piles of old Natha tech inside into something of a snowy morass. Holes in the deck offer would-be scavengers passage to the ship's innards, barely illuminated with flickering lights — the tech is old, but hardy enough to withstand a crash landing, the severe weather, and the passage of centuries. Deep in the wreck are the remains of living quarters, research labs, VR arenas, mecha bays, cafeterias, and a host of other rooms, many of which may seem familiar from Thesa Station, albeit with a decidedly older feel to what remains of the smooth curves and sleek surfaces of the Natha architecture. Most of the ship's systems are damaged and the technology is nonfunctional, but that just means there's plenty of spare parts to be found. The wreck isn't in the best shape, its structural integrity damaged, and the drifting snow threatens to block off exit routes. Be careful while exploring and be sure to bring a partner. As it turns out, Darma isn't the only one interested in the wreck — Magda is also eager to get his hands on Natha technology. In his own way of taking some responsibility for Raysc, he's asking scavengers to bring him parts, muttering about seeing what he can do about Ysverai's curse. Bring him anything that looks useful, and he may have a chance to succeed, though whether he'll be more effective than the Natha Orbiters is up for debate... FINAL OOC NOTES     An AC-eligible thread with a new character as a participant for 2 NADRIL REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE BY AUGUST 5TH, 11:59 PM EST. As always, feel free to create your own prompts and explore the Nadril location page! There are a variety of activities made available, including fishing and cave exploration! Please direct questions to the questions thread below! Thank you! QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● lore ● map ● npcs taken ● atp/emp ● application ● rep/acp calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[gravemistake]

[Gabriel may have been altruistic once, but he's seen and done far too much since then. He's got no interest in assisting his kidnappers, nor does he have any investment in a world that isn't his. It seems this guy feels similarly, which he can appreciate, in a way.}

Any real benefit to cooperating with the Orbiters?

[There has to be some kind of perk.]

ruins.. not runs... oh my god all youll find here is watery shits sorry

[shikomizue]

[Takasugi shrugs, an empty glance drawn to the liquid in his glass. It's growing diluted by the ice, flavor never a real factor, but its strength dissipating.]

They're taking care of loved ones, apparently.

Sounds like hostages, to me. [He takes a long drink, gulping down most of what remains in his glass.]

Not a good technique for people who don't have anyone to miss. [Himself included, implied.]

Re: ruins.. not runs... oh my god all youll find here is watery shits sorry

[gravemistake]

Apparently.

[McCree seems relatively untouched—not that Gabriel would necessarily describe him as a loved one. Important, yes. Reinhardt mentioned that he’d been awake before, but would he have picked up on any potential changes the way Gabriel could? He won’t discount the possibility that minds have been tampered with.

He understands what Takasugi implies, at least.]

No leverage over you, huh?

[shikomizue]

[For some, loved ones. For others, companions. For a few, enemies they'd rather see murdered in their sleep. The Natha pass no judgement, leaving their awakened captives to their own resolve.

As if allowing free will is a gift.]

I don't have anyone I'm worried about leaving behind.

[He sets his glass down, empty, smearing the ring of condensation its left on the table.] You?

[gravemistake]

[Gabriel knows there's no good way to answer this question. If he tries too hard to say he has no one that matters to him, he's likely to imply the opposite. Similarly, telling Takasugi outright that he has friends and colleagues in the pods is putting that weakness on display, just with one fewer step.

He offers a shrug instead, doing his best to appear nonchalant. It's convincing.]

Some colleagues. But they're pretty good at looking after themselves.

[Not that they'll be doing much of that, asleep in tanks.]

[shikomizue]

[For what it's worth, Takasugi would have believed a dismissive 'no'. He'd offered about as much, himself - and he firmly trusts his own answer.

Which doesn't mean it's true.

Takasugi's smirk eases. In the dim light, there's no discerning between drunken placation and a hint of fondness. He certainly doesn't bother to think why his next breath comes more easily.

Only that it does. His comrades - old and current - can take care of themselves too.] Without anyone to worry about, there's nothing left but yourself.

[An aimless venture.] What are you hoping to accomplish with your second chance?

[gravemistake]

Not a stranger to that.

[Increasingly so, as the years go on, but it's the sort of thing Gabriel is built for. Black ops often means going at it alone, for his safety and the safety of others. He's been lucky enough to have a team he could (mostly) rely on.

At the mention of a second chance, he can't help but laugh a little.]

Is that what you think this is?

[shikomizue]

[A gruff admittance, one that Takasugi has heard from countless weathered men. Older than him, assuring the young boy at war that the only way to survive was to look out for oneself. A fact they proved, sacrificing themselves for another soldier with more years ahead of them.

Not that Takasugi assumes any such compassion on this man's part.]

That's what they're selling everyone. [Takasugi echoes the man's rebuff with a chuckle of his own, and leans back against the seat.

Settled to stay for however long he wishes, apparently.] What would you call it?

[gravemistake]

[Gabriel snorts, clearly not a fan of any of this.]

I'd call it a kidnapping.

[Even if his world really is destroyed, keeping him aboard their space station or otherwise under their thumb still makes him a captive. Maybe some of the more optimistic refugees can see this as a second chance, but as long as the Orbiters are using them to do their grunt work, there's no other way to see it.]

[shikomizue]

[It's not an inaccurate appraisal, though Takasugi doesn't swallow the term so easily. A simple desire to not be something so simple as a victim knots in his throat - he spares a glance to the bar.

But once he leaves his seat, he may not come back.]

They sure picked an interesting bunch to kidnap.

Murderers, monsters, and derelicts. [Sure, there are some decent normal people among them, but Takasugi hardly remembers them.]

[gravemistake]

So it's punishment, then.

[Gabriel doesn't really argue the assessment of the refugees, as he doesn't think he's met enough of them to tell. Takasugi's choice of words, however, says it all. He pretends to be a little offended.]

Are you a murderer, monster, or derelict? Speak for yourself.

[Clearly he's an upstanding individual.]

[shikomizue]

[Maybe if the Natha had framed their mass disenfranchisement as an attempt to protect the galaxies, and nothing more, Takasugi would have bought it. At least, their intent; the method would never sit well with him.

A slight he intends to repay.] I wonder... [Yes to all, though Takasugi will let this man make his own discovery of that over time. His disregard for life isn't something he tries to hide, nor is the state of his humanity.]

Are you trying to tell me you're an innocent bystander? [He chuckles, reaching forward to toy idly with the rim of his glass.] You don't look the type. [Upstanding citizens don't glower in corners or wear quite so many scars.]

[gravemistake]

[True, he's got one too many battle scars to pass himself off as a civilian, to say nothing of the beanie or the way he carries himself. Still, Gabriel manages to look offended--at the very least he can pretend he's not several of those things listed. Besides, he does it to keep the world safe, and he doens't expect very many people to understand that.]

Sounds like there's something you need to get off your chest.

[He's just going to dig his heels in, turning the conversation right back around. Sure, perhaps refusing to answer is suspicious, but not as suspicious as Takasugi bringing all this up in the first place!!]

[shikomizue]

[Dismissiveness is an endearing look on the brusque man; Takasugi regards it with a smile, his gaze skirting over the man's features. There isn't much to see, in the dark corner of this bar, but he can make out a few scars.

Stories he'd like to hear, sometime, during an idle moment.] You could say that.

[He doesn't mind sounding suspicious.] Are you offering some sort of support? [That thought is laughable, given the man's demeanor.]

[gravemistake]

Absolutely not.

[What does he look like, a therapist? Gabriel already knows that this kid is too smart to start spilling deep dark secrets in a place like this to someone he’s just met, but he can put some puzzle pieces together. It’s a dangerous game they’re both playing as they try to suss each other out, but he’s more than willing to see what he can learn before he has to extract himself.]

So don’t get any ideas.

//endish?

[shikomizue]

[This guy looks like someone who would drag anyone into an alley and murder them. Which can be therapeutic sometimes - the two don't have to be mutually exclusive. And neither do their goals; Takasugi doesn't see as much risk as opportunity in getting to know this man.

And being known by him.

Not that he'll be offering anything too personal this time.] Heh.

I'm curious. Which of us will end up sucked into the other's idiotic ideas.

[Therein lies the game - one of them is sure to take the 'lead', but neither of them wants to give up their position. They'll wear each other down - use each other - until one is ragged.

Provided they keep in contact; Takasugi intends to.

With that he stands, leaving his glass on the table - departing without any haste, fingers dragging along the chilled wood.]