❪ event ❫ a moment in eternity

[natha]

TO THERE AND BACK     It has been a month of chills uncharacteristic of what you might remember as summer — cold days and even colder nights. The days are short and the nights feel eternal. With the recent disruption of the network and no sign of a resolution for the world outside of Nadril, one has to wonder what the future holds for El Nysa. What of Olympia, Wyver, and their residents? The animals you cared for - are they destined to remain as frozen as wretched Ysverai forever? What will become of the sleeping ones in Thesa when there is nowhere else to go but this icy city? Yet not all hope is lost just yet. The woman that appeared at the start of the network errors finally shows up again in another network post. Greetings to you all. I apologize for my abrupt appearance and departure before… My name is Nurray, and I am the closest thing to a monarch that you will find here in Nadril. Magda is... indisposed, so I am here to speak to you in his place. First and foremost, you will notice that your network devices are fully functional once more. Should you experience any further issues, please report them to me immediately so that it can be taken care of. Secondly… Investigating the strange frequency interference we've been experiencing has brought some troubling data to light. The passage of time outside of this colony has been halted, of course, but the hold seems... unstable. Whatever it is that Darma has done to contain the calamity, I doubt that it will last for long. Time is an unpredictable force, and attempting to control it can only have adverse effects on the world. You could stay here if you so chose, outside the reach of that magic... but to do that would be to abandon the rest of this planet to an unenviable fate. ...ah, but there is no need to take my word for it. You can see the effects for yourselves, if you wish — merely look outside. "Seeing is believing"... isn’t that the phrase? Nurray has a point: refugees have not been given a chance to see the outside. The frequent snowstorm barrier of Nadril has made it impossible to see what it's like beyond the colony. Soon after the network post, as though the snow has been "turned off," clouds will clear. With the barrier created by the snow gone, the red sun shines brightly upon the dreary city with its warmth. You can see a purple haze on the south horizon, a indication that Yservai wasn’t all just a dream. He's still there, so far away, yet so close anyway. Near the entrance, a mound of snow melts, revealing steps leading towards the underground. It seems to be a part of the subway station you might have found earlier during your exploration of the colony — this time, the station has been powered on. Two trains lie in wait — their destinations read: Olympia and Wyver. — El Nysa is waiting. FREEZE FRAME     The technology found in the subway station of Nadril is truly out of this world. The combined efforts of Natha technology and alien minds have truly created state-of-the-art transportation never before seen by the typical Nysan. It takes no longer than one hour for the intercoms to announce their arrival to the outskirts of the Dranbu Kingdom — though, even with the platform available, the train never stops; it instead continues for another half hour for it to reach the North Gate of the Olympian Empire, where it sits until it's time to return to the tundra. All in all, it takes a mere hour and a half for this high-speed subway travel from Nadril to Olympia. The second train does make a quick stop at the Olympian Station, but it will be another painless hour and a half until it reaches the jungle of the Wyver Kingdom. Because Wyver is its own island, connected only by a bridge, you might notice that a small part of the travel was underwater. The trip takes only a total of three hours, but there's plenty of time for sightseeing. After all, isn't that the whole point of this trip? BE STILL MY HEART. Leaving the train, you are immediately hit with the still, warm air of the underground. It's hot, much different from the winter of the north, but perhaps a welcome change. The station is old, but it still has a fairly new smell to it, and not just because it's been unused for so long. It feels out of place compared to the rest of this world, and this is especially true when you reach the surface. The entrance was hidden under the earth right near the North Gate. Upon leaving the station, you're immediately hit with the familiar wretched smell and atmosphere of the undead. Even if you're new, you won’tt be able to miss Ysverai, the risen Great Dragon. You see this massive creature on the horizon, mouth wide and ready to blast El Nysa into nothing. Yet he remains still — as are all the terrified residents of Olympia. You've only seen this on the monitors of Thesa Station, and now you're able to experience first-hand how utterly quiet and still the world is now. The native Olympians are all over — you see most of them running away from the Great Dragon. Others equipped their armors and rode their steeds straight toward the danger in hopes of protecting their Empire. And the civilians, having lost all hope, are huddled together — at least they would have been able to spend their final moments with loved ones. Up on Thesa Station, you felt dread when you'd observed Ysverai for too long — this remains true here. That dread reaches your heart and clutches it. You feel his pain and suffering, and for those too in tune with emotions, it may be too much for you to be near him. Best to steer clear from him, or perhaps return to the underground. There is much more to be seen, after all. PRAYING WITH FIRE. Another hour and a half south on the subway, and you'll reach the Wyver Station. It's far warmer here in the station this further south, but Ysverai's dread doesn't reach here. On the surface, you are instead immediately hit with the overwhelming humidity of the jungle. With summer in full swing, the layers you've brought with you from Nadril become a burden. In Wyver, the mood is far different. The Great Dragon Yservai was once a being that was respected and worshipped by the Wyver people — not to mention that the one responsible is none other than Prince Raysc — thus his revival is met with somber resilience. Most of Wyver natives, instead of running away, had gathered around fires in prayer. Trained dragons that were unaffected by Ysverai's influence bow by their master's sides in acceptance of what they feel in their heart is to come with the Great Dragon's final blow. You may even spot your own dragon, eyes beamed up toward Thesa, like it knows you were up there at the moment time stood still. It's hard to imagine where one can go from here. You might start thinking about clean-up efforts, how to achieve proper burials for the fallen ones... but with time frozen, you will find that you cannot actually move anything or anyone. It will be dusk, as Thesa's shines across the skies, when storm cloud gather before Thesa's light. And from the clouds is a familiar figure — Once again, she has descended. TIME & TIME AGAIN     Darma is glowing as bright as the naked eye can perceive. Her massive, true form floats before the world she's built from dust. Is this world salvageable in your eyes, Refugee? We held time in hopes that we fould find a way to dissolve this Ysverai back to the ashes from which he was reanimated. Unfortunately, we continue to be unseeing, thus uncertain of the future... after all, our powers are near depleted. Nurray was correct, Refugee, in that I cannot hold time for much longer. There is... another way, however. It is not ideal by any means, but we shall do what we must to keep Ysverai frozen. As for us... we have expended far too much of our energy — Refugee, I am too aware of the misfortunes you've experienced in your time here. I have failed in my promise to provide better living... perhaps, with more time, I may yet see a better future. Until then, I leave Thesa, our hearts, in your hands. Farewell, Refugee. Her brightness dims as she says her final words — at the same time, raises her arms, palms wide, then closes her hands into a fist. In that instant, time is resumed. It's slow at first, as though time is trying to catch up with reality. It takes a several moments until the slow-motion picture before them reaches normalcy. Darma turns her attention to Yservai, whose motion is also returning, but not for long. In her true form, they are comparable in size; Darma's glow continues to dim as she draws closer to the Great Dragon, and then she coils herself around him, holding him still before assimilating into the wretched creature. By the end of it, time has completely returned to normal, and all residents were able to witness the Natha holding time still for Ysverai — The process turns the Great Dragon, as well as Darma, into stone. HIT PLAY TO REPLAY     Darma has resumed time, and Ysverai is no longer a threat. However, it comes with a hefty price for the Natha. The massive, stone statue of Darma embracing Ysverai looms in the valley between the cities of Olympia and Wyver. It's no doubt an intimidating addition to the world, but there is some peace in knowing it's all over. When civilians finally come to, they can't help but look upon the statue in awe — and their respective cities. It's much to take in all at once. Much destruction has been wrought— buildings lay in ruin, and of the citizens still alive, many look to be in poor physical condition. 1. I. The Sanctuary has sustained much damage, and with the high demand of medical care, cannot serve as the central healing place for those in need. Instead, it is up to individual citizens to find resources and establish places of care. Those with a medical inclination or healing powers may set up medical tents, or work out of their homes. Not everything has been destroyed, and it is still possible to obtain supplies from the market or request them from The Sanctuary. There is also, unfortunately, the tragic task of transporting corpses to graveyards and giving fallen citizens a proper burial. The Temples thank you for your service. II. In order to have a functioning city again, buildings and facilities must be repaired and rebuilt. It's possible your own home was demolished in the battle. With so many important buildings needing to be repaired, city officials are too overwhelmed with the coordination of such tasks to double-check that buildings are restored to their original form. What's more, they seem to encourage design innovation, believing that a new, fresh look to the city will revitalize people's morale. Now is the time to put your own unique flair on the interior or exterior of Olympia's infrastructure. Even parts of the Palace need repair. Time has resumed, yes, but the magic that Darma employs isn't flawless. As powerful of an entity as she may be, to tamper with time is difficult. Some would say it defies the laws of nature. Nature seems to agree, and in the next few weeks, El Nysa will be facing a few hiccups as it finds its equilibrium once more and citizens try to return to normalcy. Strangely enough, El Nysa natives are not disturbed by the occurrence of these events. III. Characters may find that they occasionally (or frequently) suffer from lapses in memory. These difficulties with memory may range from light to severe, although they are thankfully not permanent. Within the span of a few minutes to a few hours, difficulties in remembering people and events are resolved. That isn't to say a similar problem won’t happen again tomorrow… IV. Is it just you, or is your housemate looking a bit old lately? No, it isn't just stress making some citizens appear older. For a short amount of time, some characters may find themselves advancing or regressing in age, both physically and mentally. This particular kind of time hiccup is rare and may be particularly disturbing to the affected person’s friends. Thankfully, there have been no cases of this effect lasting more than an hour. V. At times, it seems as though objects and people in El Nysa will feel a bit out of place. These are beings and things that belong to what some may call "alternate universes." Their presence is transient, and some will only appear for a few instances before returning to their rightful existence. The ones that linger a bit longer, however, may make your day more interesting. Before you stands a pet just like yours, except it talks...? Perhaps you'll meet another version of yourself, a more bloodthirsty version of yourself. Or maybe you'll run into a version of your friend that really enjoys your company. The possibilities are truly endless, and potentially mortifying. VI. Towards the end of the month, the frequency of the aforementioned disturbances will decrease. Following this will be an increase in a different sort of disturbance: one that will either make literal seconds seem like an eternity, or force you to move and talk at a speed you never thought possible. It's as though some higher entity is pressing the fast forward or slow down button on life, and considering your mind works at the same pace as normal, the phenomenon is as frustrating as it sounds. Hope you weren't planning to be on time for anything, because it might be awhile before the universe allows you to take that next step. But these phenomena does draw to a close — and with it, you may wonder what will happen now to those sleeping ones in Thesa now that Darma has turned to stone. After all, it will be near the time of which more refugees should wake... Repairs to Thesa Station should remain ongoing so long as parts can be salvaged from Nadril, at least. And with speed travel via subway possible, it should make travel far easier than ever before. Even with Darma gone, you will have to move forward. There is still much to be done. FINAL OOC NOTES     You may acquire REP for Nadril, and either Olympia or Wyver in this log. An AC-eligible thread for ONE (1) NADRIL REP POINT may be submitted HERE BY AUGUST 26TH, 11:59 PM EST. A second AC-eligible thread for 1 REP for either Olympia OR Wyver may be submitted HERE OR HERE BY AUGUST 26TH, 11:59 PM EST. 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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[shikomizue]

[In the way a hand moves from jaw to nape following a brush of lips, Takasugi's wrist twists along with his blade. Embedded in flesh, risk not taken in initiating the attack but in continuing it - a quick jerk of steel against muscle to draw more blood and leave behind tatters.

Momentum that stalls, strength akin to his own anchoring his sword to the point of contact.

Locked together, a weapon and a wound, Takasugi feels a wholeness well up, lungs full of air and ribs aching to burst. He's forgotten about the gun, cognition replaced with the wild smile he wears. It doesn't disappear when the void of black down the firearm's barrel flashes in his vision.

Avoiding the spread is impossible with such proximity, and there will be no mitigating the rot that sets in after the shards of bullet embed in his skin.

Theirs is a war of attrition. It will leave scars he doesn't mind bearing. Sharing.

Takasugi drops, not surrendering his grip on his sword, but relinquishing the strength behind it to sink beneath Mikazuki's center of balance. The first shot, meant for leg, scatters into his head. It shreds bandage, leaving reddened skin in widening sores. A clump of hair disperses in the air, blood filling its place to flow freely along sweat laden scalp.

The second shot rings in his ear, trajectory at once adjusted for his shift in stature and interrupted by a foot that sweeps along Mikazuki's ankles. Takasugi's body follows the whip of his leg, sword pulled free, no thought spared to the state of the digits left behind.

Crouched low, he follows through with a cresting arc - one not intended to cut skin, but to reassert distance. Something he quickly closes, strike not aimed for body but wrist, disarm or dismember.

To be rid of the damn weapon coming between them - at the cost of his own sword if necessary.]

[sparsity]

[ Attrition annoys him, even if he's aware, his usual vivid hum dampened by the dragon, that he's not in Barbatos. That it's only his own flesh and blood he has to parcel out, piecemeal, to win. His balance is only temporarily compromised as the insides of his ruined fingers skirt along the path of the blade when it dislodges from his shoulder in a messy snarl of flesh, narrowly avoiding losing them all together. If he can't keep a hold of his gun, he's done for — not even the first knuckles are sacrifices he's willing to make. His recovery has him stepping aside, a semi-circle drawn by the inability to distance himself from this.

Gunfire cracks, the resulting plume of smoke and powder lazy in comparison to the flash of red awarded by his aim. It splatters the ground so thickly he can taste it. Takasugi pushes him back and Mikazuki follows the curvature of that arc, attentive and electric. He can't have his wrist, so he angles it to cross his firearm with the sword, perpendicular. Normally, a blade like his might have sliced through the barrel.

But the moon laying at the threshold of the horizon is nearly full, lending strength to the enchanted metal, the rounds still chambered within. Mikazuki chucks the edge of the sword up as it clashes with his gun, putting pressure on its edge and letting it run down the trigger guard until Mikazuki's all but underneath Takasugi's bearing, right to the hilt.

A sword might have a long reach, but it's rigid if controlled from the grip, and he exploits that as he holds him at bay, knowing his next move will create an opening for Takasugi to strike.

He acts anyway, pitching his gun towards Takasugi and firing into the remaining space before the inevitable retaliation. He doesn't aim around the blade, but for it, two shots resounding voraciously as they clash, metal on metal. ]

[shikomizue]

[He expects the scent of gunpowder, a sharp inhale of the smoke stinging the back of his throat. But in its place is a different familiarity; rotting, curdled flesh, corroding itself. Left searing as if days of infection had burrowed into the wounds after mere moments.

Takasugi's lip bleeds, not bright red but yellowed and laced with pus that sticks to the shred of flesh. Nothing runs over his face, the injuries an infliction rather than something that flows. They stand alone, widening to merge into one another, an overture to entropy just as much as the clash that wrought them.

Taken to the left side of his face, Takasugi's presence of mind focused on the necessity of battle, he hasn't lost any of his vision. The pain fades entirely when metal clashes against metal.

Glinting in the moonlight - a beautiful sight, if either of them had any of the mind for it.

As they are, strength crashes against strength, Mikazuki's lower angle an advantage Takasugi is accustomed to having himself. Being pressed from beneath isn't wired into him so intricately, two steps back accommodating for weight shifted too late.

The barrel faces his sword, and Takasugi knows what sacrifice he'll be making this time. Metal cries, a sickly groan as it cracks and chips, the metal of the hilt rusting and thinning. Debris of the bullets scatter on his hand, scattering pockmarks of red he doesn't notice.

In the moment his blade weathers the shots, he abandons it entirely to wrap his grip around Mikazuki's grip. There's more maneuverability to a gun in captured arm than a sword; Takasugi surges forward, pulling the boy into him as his knee flies upwards. The opposite hand grabs the back of the boy's neck, forcing him down into the blow.

Stomach. Face. Enough to disorient so he can attempt to twist that arm. Snap bone - made fragile by a precise angle he's forced upon enemy time and time again. Disarmed, he won't stop until Mikazuki is the same, and they're tearing away at each other with bare hands.]

[sparsity]

[ All at once, his world lurches. Mikazuki clutches his balance fiercely, not so easily knocked off his axis, but Takasugi is a likeminded beast. One opening was all he'd left to take the sword from him, and that Takasugi seizes it without pause. With less height to ration out to the attack, his arm locks rigidly as if all his control diverts there, to keep his gun. Takasugi's knee meets the crest of his brow and pain explodes backwards through the rest of his skull, cartilage folding and sending blood streaming from his nose.

His vision sears with it, but it's not his head he's focusing on, it's the angle of his arm. Fingers still clamped over the grip of his gun, even he would find irony in it, the way he sows rot just as the dragon had. Still does.

Mikazuki still has one hand free to counter both of Takasugi's being on him, and it's easy to convert the backwards motion of his blow into something more advantageous. His legs anchor through the bright ripple in his vision and his torso twists, free elbow crooking as Mikazuki throws all his weight into it and attempts to both attack and thrash free. He doesn't still for a moment — if he misses, if it's not enough to knock Takasugi's grasp off him, he'll strike again, until something gives, until he takes Takasugi to the ground with him.

Blood on the grip of his weapon or sweat slicking his palm doesn't alter his decision to keep a hold of it.

Only running out of shots poses a danger. ]

[shikomizue]

[Last time Mikazuki's blood had flowed freely down his face, Takasugi found himself entranced. Bright red, more alive than the countenance that bore it - a beautiful sight. One that could move his hand, pen poetry or raise a blade.

There's no such subtlety to his pursuit now. Mikazuki's wound is ignored. An expected response to bone meeting the fragility of facial structure. The crack that splits the heavy air between them is nothing more than a signal to surge on.

Force himself, his strength, against the grip that refuses to falter. He can't break those weathered bones with angles and force alone. It will require momentum, more than can be coaxed from such a close, tangled position.

Mikazuki's attack is sharp, two bodies crashing together as if there's no skin, no flesh, between them. Only bones, wrought by war, refusing to break. Takasugi's sternum takes the brunt of the blow, a cough sputtered between his decaying lips even as his head reels back.

Crashes forward, the onslaught against Mikazuki's face continued as his forehead careens, carrying with it the wave of motion the smaller beast had met him with.

All while still maintaining his hold, his bulwark against those corrosive bullets.

Another strike comes; and this one Takasugi moves with, not against. His body sways to the side of his hold. He'll use the strength in that arm - taught against his grip - to twist his legs around Mikazuki's shoulder.

Anchored, he drives what remains of his blade - most of its length in shattered pieces at their feet - into thick muscle of neck.]