❪ event ❫ THE DESCENT: PART ONE -- the overflow.

[natha]

THE PROLOGUE     Your sleep on the night of the 15th is not a restful one, unfortunately. It’s unclear whether you are in a state of half-wakefulness, or dreaming. The voices you hear certainly sound very real. What is it, Sael? —Is everyone asleep?! Every one, yes. Sael, it appears you do not have good news to deliver...? N-No! I don’t know how it slipped past us, but there’s something powerful coming this way. Something hostile. I can barely keep the core systems online! ... I don't know what to do... I see... and we cannot protect Thesa and Alria in addition to transferring the Refugees to Olympia. This force, they waited for this moment. They knew I have been Intervening, and that I have become weak from such Interventions— ... We've been had. It cannot be helped. To save the Refugees on the Stations, we must eject the awoken unto El Nysa. My remaining energy shall go into shielding Thesa— left defenseless, every being we have saved on this station will perish... Sael, where is the ideal location for the landing? Hmm. There aren’t any people within a ten mile radius of The Outlook, and there shouldn’t be any for a few more days. I think that’s the best location right now. Very well. Instruct Zasere and Roman to begin preparations for an emergency eject. This is the only way we can save everyone. I am counting on you to ward off the enemy on the space front. The rest... is up to our Refugees. The alarms are blaring. It shouts against your eardrums, calling you to wake again. This time, you are in new pod, strapped down completely and cushioned tightly against the walls. In truth, you had no idea when you’d gone to sleep, but it is reminiscent of when you had been saved from the force of the Storm. A voice greets you when you come to, while the conversation between Darma and Sael is still fresh on your mind. Despite their voices playing like an old tune in your memory, you still know it is something that happened. Something has gone terribly wrong. You hear Darma speak, her voice loud in your head. Fellow Refugee, I wake you with regrettable news. A force equal to our own is attempting to engage Thesa, no doubt to steal the souls contained here. My energy is near depleted with this last Intervention, so I cannot send you to the grounds safely as originally intended. However, there is hope yet.This power shall instead shield Thesa and Alria — and believe in me when I swear no one shall be hurt. Your loved ones are safe with us. —Unfortunately, that is at your expense. Your descent will not be an easy one. This pod that contains you shall pierce through El Nysa's atmosphere and land you on an island west of Olympia, simply called The Outlook. Travel east. Find the West Outpost, then continue east until you find the Olympian North Gate. There is a method to this madness. You shall be sent in waves. The inhumanly strong shall be first. The parachute will soften the landing, but I am aware of all your capabilities. The first wave will survive the drop, and will work tirelessly to secure the others. Find your bearings, and ensure the safety of the second wave. They are the healers and medics. Catch their pods, ease their landings, make certain that they shall not be harmed, because you will need them for your wounds. The third wave are your strongmen. They shall help clear the debris and take people to safety, making way for the fourth wave, those can conjure magic to help. Bring everyone to a safe distance. A supply drop will follow soon after; it shall contain tents and tools that will be useful for the long night. The fifth and sixth waves are largely vulnerable humans. With your combined efforts, you shall survive this great misfortune. Forgive us, Refugee. Leave the Moons to us, my promise to you is still in tact— focus on what you can do for others like you. Helping at least two (2) Refugees will earn you one (1) Natha REP. Threads must be AC length to qualify, and can be submitted HERE by JULY 31st. THE DESCENT     FIRST WAVE. The instructions are clear. Those who are a part of the First Wave should be equipped with physical strength and fortitude to survive the drop or the power to regenerate and heal their own wounds. While the pods are already designed to cushion some of the impact, as this is the first group, it will likely to be the most jarring. In all of the waves, some of the pods will malfunction and offer no cushion at all. They will be expected to quickly find their bearings. Their mission isn’t simply just landing, after all. The first wave will be expected to help the next wave, and the wave after that. Whether through their abilities or brute strength, they will be expected to help soften the landing for those who are falling. They will also be expected to pry open hatches, carry people to safety, and to just... survive. It’s not always easy being first. SECOND WAVE. Within the next hour, it’s time for the Second Wave to make their descent. You were selected based upon your aptitude for healing and/or being able to administer first aid. Perhaps you can help the tired and weary. Maybe those who have landed have have strength, but no stamina. Either way, it may be unwise to exhaust all their abilities at once. The night is long, and you may want to conserve their energy for the next waves to come. At least you’ll have help in getting settled. THIRD WAVE. Akin to the First Wave, the Third Wave will possess some durability, and some manner of strength, making you a reliable ally. Especially in a time of crisis... Or so we hope. While the landing is tough, and some of you may need first aid. As soon as you’re all healed up, you’ll have no time to dawdle. Your help is required. “Please help those still trapped in pods. Carry those unconscious to safety. Lift debris, and rescue all you can.” May be a vague message still stuck in the back of your head. Something whispered to you while you were just waking. Well, might as well roll with it. It’s the best shot you have, after all. FOURTH WAVE. Those in the Fourth Wave, as Darma projects, were selected due to the versatility of their abilities. No one expects one man to do the same as the next. Rather, that’s precisely the point: to be different. To be able to accomplish something unique. While one individual may be blessed with powers that assist in putting out fires, another may have the ability to shield those from oncoming debris. Maybe one even has the ability to channel all of these. Regardless, it’s up to you and your quick wits to see what tasks are open. It’ll take some coordination, especially as there are more people mixing into the fray, but, you can do it, can’t you? FIFTH WAVE. If you are in the Fifth Wave it is likely that you have a specific power or ability. One that isn’t easily channeled or called upon. Or, perhaps, you were merely placed here for insurance. Whatever the case if, your expertise will presently be put to the test. Maybe you’re quite proficient in survival skills, and you’re already eyeing the supplies that were dropped between the Fourth Wave and now. Goods all ready to be salvaged. Okay, maybe some can’t, but as they say, “it’s the thought that counts.” Besides, the injured from earlier certainly need a space to rest, and camp isn’t going to make itself. Regardless, maybe you feel more comfortable joining in the efforts to assist those who still require it. Whatever it is, you are sure to find your place and use. Darma obviously held the same faith. FINAL WAVE. The Final Wave is fortunate in a variety of ways. With Thesa Station a bit more stabilized, Darma utilizes the last bit of her powers in insuring that these last remaining pods are met with the softest landing, right beside the fifth, that is. The fragility of life is nothing she is unfamiliar with, after all. Still, that isn’t to say nothing is expected of you. Most of the individuals that have dropped earlier will likely be exhausted. An hour stretched between each one, makes several hours for the first couple of waves. They'll need a place to relax. You will act as the final group of helpers. Settle into whatever role feels best for you. Are you an excellent cook? Great at rationing supplies? Perhaps, you have a secret skill in ______ that might come in handy here? Or, maybe, despite the gentler landing you still managed to get hurt. The sky's the limit, and you got this! Meanwhile, in the distant kingdom of Olympia, the Empress and her loyal subject discuss matters late into the night... I’ll have the results of that dragon toxin study ready for you soon, Your Highness. I just need a few helpers to— oh wow, is that a meteor shower? Oh yes, it appears so. How beautiful.. hehe. Let us thank Thesa for this blessing. GATHER YOUR BEARINGS     All in all, the descent lasts for nearly seven hours. After the deployment of the last wave of refugees, it’s only natural that you may be feeling pretty worn out. A. Within the remains of the pods, Refugees will find basic camping supplies such as small tents, sleeping bags, and compasses. Not all of the supplies remain intact, thanks to the impact of the crash. But, sharing resources will ensure there is enough for everyone to rest for the night. Can you really in good conscience leave that stranger next to you without shelter? B. Although you may be tired after such a life-threatening ordeal, there is still work to be done to ensure your survival. Fortunately, it works out because now there are plenty of empty hands. There are stray debris and metal parts that should be collected and disposed of. There's firewood that needs to be collected, and campfires to upkeep. The nights in the Outlook are particularly chilly, and so it will be imperative to keep warm! C. Your clothes are tattered or too bloodied to sleep on with comfortably. Fortunately, Darma thought ahead. There will be various types of clothing provided, mostly robes that resemble her own in earthy tones, all to help them camouflage you for your next big adventure. FINAL OOC NOTE     This INTRO event will be broken up into three parts! Please keep this in mind when plotting your threads/tag load. PART 3 Will be up on JULY 22ND, at 6 PM EST. We will not provide an additional CAPTCHA for this overflow. Players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals in the event this overflow gets close to CAPTCHA. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP. The NETWORK is currently down, as Sael must concentrate all of his efforts on warding off the invading force. Characters may still message each other's personal IC inboxes. Submit two (2) AC-eligible threads from this log for one (1) Natha Orbiter REP point here by JULY 31ST. Recommended Listening: Alex & TOKYO Rose PART ONE | PART ONE (overflow) | PART TWO | PART THREE QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● world ● map ● reputation ● npcs taken ● reserves ● application calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[beatupgrass]

[Rocket watches for a few moments, not interrupting, but genuinely curious about where she's going with this. His only movement is briefly going to retrieve his jumpsuit so he can put it back on- it's still damp, but so is he and he doesn't like his spinal implants all on display like that.

He's got half of one sleeve up over his shoulder and working on the next when her message finally becomes clear.]

Huh. Can't talk, but you're still literate. Bet you get a lot of people thinkin' you're dumber than you are. [He steps closer and gives her a light pat on the neck.] Don't worry. I'll stay. I'll uh... Keep watch over the fish.

[Yes. That sounds like a plan. It's a bit humbling, but for now he doesn't care.]

[illuminating]

[It's true she often comes across those who think she's a simple-minded creature (though, maybe in some ways, she is…), but it's never really gotten to her too badly before. Even ordinary animals are intelligent, only in a different way from humans, and though one would never find her complaining about it, she doesn't think it's right that all intelligence is measured against one standard.

None of that's really here or there, is it? She knows what he means; and it's a fact that the wolves of old don't know how to spell, but they are, or were, highly strategic hunters, and they've no use for words.

They're still getting to know each other, these two, but even based on the little she's gotten to learn about him, the obvious edge he drags around with him, she doesn't take it lightly that he chooses to say in the midst of his reply Don't worry, and even pats her on the neck. They were on Thesa for almost a month. She's probably overheard some of the way he talks to people, perhaps they even spent a little time together outside of her leading him to Groot's pod, and so these are not small things. Not to her. But just in case, she doesn't fuss over them, doesn't draw attention back to them, because his dignity is important to him, isn't it?

Content with his answer, off she goes, breaking into an immediate dash to not keep him waiting too long. She leaves and returns a total of four times, each one, carrying a small bundle of sticks, twigs, branches if she can manage. Not much will fit into sleek muzzles, but she's doing her best. Each time, she pauses where she's having to briefly leave him and the pit, her findings clattering to the ground, before she streaks off again.

When at last she returns on that fourth and final turn, dumping the last of the wood, she pants rapidly, lungs going. In the pile she's made, she starts nosing around for particular pieces, and once she rediscovers one (having, of course, gathered them specifically during one of her trips), she drags it away. At one end are stems growing out in a V-shape, with tinier ones branching off from there, and she nips a few away, leaving the divide, and then down to the opposite end she goes to strip wood away, and gnaw with molars, trying to give it a point.

It's bound to take longer than skilled hands and a knife would whittling, and she does have to press it down to keep steady with one paw, and yank at bits of woods. When she's finished, she grabs it by the middle, and cants her head almost completely to one side, trotting around trying to find a good place to stab it into the earth not too far off from the hallow in the dirt though not too close either.

Her first attempt sticking it into the ground fails, and she groans, holding it horizontal now, and starts trying to loosen the dirt a bit with claws.]



(oml… :'( i'm sorry succinctness isn't my strong point.)

[beatupgrass]

[Speaking of leaving people their pride, Rocket's sat back on his knees this entire time- having thumbs, tools, and a genetically augmented brain means he can do a lot and then be a complete shitheel about it, but he sits back, so fascinated by her working that he forgets that he could step in for a moment.

Truth be told, the thing about this that gets to him is that he isn't used to being taken care of. Groot did it- the previous one, not the younger version that Rocket has made it his duty to care for- and that was the be-all and end-all of it. He doesn't like people stepping in and assuming he can't take care of himself.

But he can't, honestly. He's terrible alone, and how he managed before he found Groot is a mystery he doesn't want to have to solve again. He hasn't quite gotten to the point with the other Guardians where he'll allow them to take care of them, but that's because they all have their baggage. They're tied up in things. Groot saw everything so simply, and he can already tell that she does too.

Everyone took it for granted (himself, included) that he got Groot back in the end, but the truth is he'll never have that Groot. There was a hole in him that just widened the hole that was already there, and he didn't realize it could be filled until this wolf lady decided to mother him without any ulterior motive or asking anything of him.

He keeps watching, though really he's staring into space, only brought out of it by her groaning and pawing. Ah... Right. She might not ask anything of him, but it's not nice (when did he ever concern himself with being nice?) to just leave a lady hanging.] Let a man with thumbs take it from here, Lady.

[A steady vertical grip and a good amount of strength will always win the day with getting a stick into the ground, though it doesn't come easy even for him. The ground's a little harder than he would have liked, so his attempts to be impressive ends up being about as sad as his single fish.

He got the damned thing into the ground, okay?]

[illuminating]

[so macho

Seriously, his struggling as well aside, she is impressed. Likely more for the fact that he quite kindly offered to aid her in the first place, but he did still get it in, and that's something, too. She beams at him so he can see her awe and muted praise, tail swishing upright like an upside down pendulum behind her. Isn't her face like a big, stupid, white sun sometimes? It's probably for the best this body hasn't the correct vocal chords for human-like verbalization, because it's fair to assume she'd be swayed into charmed, light-hearted laughter with him.

As easily as he can comprehend her and Groot's littlest distinctions, maybe he has some sense of this—that his company brings her unadulterated happiness.

She moves back to the pile, shuffling around again, and brings out another stick pretty similar to the first. This time, she takes it to him straightaway, holding it out for him, and hopefully he won't have issue helping her out a second time… She'll dig some of that tough earth back to try and make it a little easier to drive in.]

[beatupgrass]

[His returning grin is a bit awkward- he gets her delight, and it confuses the hell out of him. No matter how many people tolerate him unconditionally, he still finds himself dumbstruck when it becomes clear that they're not tolerating him. They legitimately like him. He just doesn't see much there to like.

Sure, he thinks he's awesome and amazing and talented, and smarter than everyone else, but that's all just a front. He doesn't really expect other people to agree with that.

Maybe she just hasn't seen him be really mean yet. That'd probably do it. Or maybe she's like Groot, and she'll care up until there's nothing left. The grim thoughts hit him a little too hard and he takes the stick from her, expression faltering a bit as he goes to stab it into the ground with a bit more force than necessary.]

[illuminating]

[None of what occurs goes unnoticed: she's a nurturer and a listener—but this is one of those delicate situations where pressing could potentially make it worse, or drive him away. And she really doesn't want to run him off when she's already made it her mission to warm him up properly. Her ears sink, and she hesitates slightly, having to fight against an urge to bump against him with her muzzle. Give him some kind of wolf-form of There, there.

The last piece to what he's been helping her construct she might be able to handle on her own, but there's a hope if she continues to provide him with things to feel useful (because, honestly, he could just sit there, and she'd still be happy with his company), then he won't abandon her too quickly. So, one more sturdy stick, and wolf returning to raccoon to help her get it placed between the sticking out V's of the two he's put into the ground.

Can he tell what it is? It's… a makeshift clothesline, and yes, it does look really pitiful and sad, doesn't it? Look, she dwells among mortals as a wolf, and being a god doesn't necessarily make one useful in human skills. Her forte is kicking demonic ass, but… at least she tried. She groans with an inflection of embarrassment, all droopy, sitting next to him as they watch it lean a little to the left. It should hold at least for the night, right… r- right? Maybe a few hours?]

[beatupgrass]

[Once the last piece is in place, he stares at it for a second, scratching his chin as he tries to figure out what exactly she means to do with this. At first, he thought maybe it was one weird as hell way to start a fire, but that's not it. You don't much call for clotheslines in space.

He finally manages to connect the dots and, in a very rare moment of protecting another creature from potential embarrassment, he hesitantly lays his belt across it. It dips a little in the middle, but doesn't fall over immediately.

Give it a few minutes and a light breeze and maybe it will. The whole situation is so ridiculous that he snorts, at first, and then doubles over in a hysterical, wheezing laugh. He has no idea what's so funny, aside from this pathetic attempt at a clothesline with a belt swung over it. Maybe it's just that on top of how much this day already sucks.]

[illuminating]

[Ammy's eyes, brightening with a flicker of hope, follow him as he goes up to put… his. belt. …on it.

Her ears flatten somewhat at this, and she groans at him, and if he takes it as: Really. Really! It's for your clothes… —groan dipping into whine—then he wouldn't be incorrect, whatsoever. She's trying to stay in the realm of her pouting, like a too youthful in personality momma, crossing her arms with puffed cheeks while one of her children practically mocks her failed DIY job, and ignore his laughter, and sulk because as her traveling companion would say she's really sensitive about her flaws, but—

Ugh, his laughter's so sincere, and it's picking up her spirits, enticing her playfulness. She grumbles at him, part rumbles part whimpers, and goes over to him to paw and nudge him down, trying to tickle him with teeth, wrestle tenderly.

It's not so bad for a first attempt! Her teasing dwindles until, only for a moment, she's got nothing but her head laying against his lap and belly, not weighted, so he can sit up if he likes, her back end still standing normally. After a hefty sigh, she picks herself up to give him space again, and insinuates while walking toward the fish: Do you know how to make a fire?

She goes to smell over the fish he brought, to make certain it hasn't gone bad, but luckily it hasn't been hours and the night is cold, and so she dips down to clean the dirt away.]

[beatupgrass]

[He falls over still laughing, now at both her attempts to make whatever the hell that was and because she's tickling him, which with anyone else would have been treated as nothing shy of a declaration of war against his person. It's different when it's another animal (much as he hates to be labeled one and equally hates to label her one, but whatever- so long as no one else does it, he'll be fine with it)- animals, at their core, are only a threat to him when they're hungry and think he looks tasty.

He bats at her ears, laughter dying into wheezy chuckles as he tries to catch his breath.] Oh come on. I don't- I get what you're trying to do, but- [He shakes his head and only props himself up when she goes to get the fish, figuring out what she means immediately. Gingerly he takes his belt off the makeshift clothesline so he can produce a lighter among his other useful tools and begins pushing other sticks and leaves into a pile- careful to not disrupt her monument to Trying Her Best over there.]

[illuminating]

[While he works to get them a fire started, she busies herself shearing away silvery scales. Almost pointedly opting to ignore her failed clothesline. Sensitive, indeed. When the orange-pink of the meat reveals itself, she takes a moment to indulge, eating out a few small bites, but it's not her who needs food—much as she loves the taste of it and will stuff her face silly, given the opportunity, even steal food from people, she doesn't need it to survive at all. She can go without food and last for a dumb amount of time.

He needs it. She raises her head and blinks over at him, in his jump suit, fiddling deliberately with his lighter or perhaps placing sticks to make sure the fire will hold before he's going to light it—whatever it is, it's something more human in motion than a raccoon would normally be doing, and she makes an assumption that he might recoil if she carries pieces of fish to him still seeped in watery blood. So she licks this away, too, and then spoons out some good chunks with lower teeth, and finally approaches again, trying to get him to take them.

They're clean, at the least, now, but she cannot cook, although he's welcome to do this if he knows how. Otherwise, even if he may never have before, he's just as capable as her to eat meat raw, and not get ill, if he were to choose to do it.]

[beatupgrass]

[He's capable of it, but it's never occurred to him to, so when she offers him the pieces, his first instinct is to try and skewer them, but fish meat doesn't skewer so well, so he's left with a handful of raw fish, a useless makeshift skewer, a gnawing hunger, and a rationalization that raw seafood is considered pretty normal to eat.

But rather than just shove them haphazardly into his mouth or lick them off his palm, he picks up a piece in his fingers and eats them delicately one by one, like finger food. The texture of raw fish is a little grimace-worthy, but it's food and it's a fish he actually caught so it's satisfying. And she did the grossest part for him, which would have really had him at a loss.] I did not think this part through at all, y'know. Normally I steal food if no one's around to cook.

[illuminating]

[In a way, they're opposites with their staple personalities and eating habits. For the way he speaks, he eats so primly. She eats brazenly, wolf-like, for having her realest form described as a most fair maiden. Definitely unladylike, but who ever said gods have anymore understanding than animals what it's like to be human and work under their unspoken expectations?

She looks like she's stifling something softhearted while she watches, but when he mentions stealing food, the turn of her snout is almost dramatic, avoiding eye contact. Ha ha, he doesn't say! She doesn't know a thing about stealing food, oh no, she's a good girl. She can resist any roast left unattended when someone is busy preparing the rest of supper, or gathering the family. Even with as bad as people are about locking doors. It's practically an invitation—her stomach groans in annoyance at her. She means!!: she's a good girl.

Never mind that throughout being on Thesa the biggest (factual) rumor floating around about her had to be to watch out for the big white dog who will eat off your plate.

Satisfied he's eaten, there's a fire, and despite his jumpsuit he's shaken off as much water as he can, she pushes herself up to move behind him, and then settles down to curl around him. She whines quietly as she goes, crossing her head over into his lap to blanket him, pressing her side close to his back. Even her tail is brought in tight to shield him as much as possible.

He can go, if he likes, of course, but please not until he's thoroughly warmed up.

If he stays long enough for this, whether he talks to her or not, it's likely she'll drift off. She hasn't had enough sleep for the recovery she's needed before being abruptly awoken, and when she isn't active enough, she's prone to dropping off. It's possible he'll be witness to her deep sleep agitated huffing, little growls, the twitching paws. From time to time, she'll try to wake, with heavy head and heavy eyelids, and tend to him, whether it's adjusting slightly to ensure his warmth, or grooming, or half-conscious nuzzling, but she falls back to sleep almost as rapidly as she's woken.]

[beatupgrass]

[He stays, and if pressed would argue that he has nowhere else to sleep and left to his own devices probably wouldn't sleep at all unless it was as close to Quill and Mantis as his pride will allow. He doesn't trust all of these people. Or any of them, really, besides Quill. Even Mantis is iffy.

But her? Her he can trust. And having a big wolf curled around you is a good deterrent for anyone deciding to approach him in a vulnerable state. So with that safety in mind, he can comfortably drift off himself, leaning against her. The night's not without its discomfort of course. There are times he gets caught in the grip of nightmares and begs under his breath, writing a bit until she wakes and grooms or nuzzles him and he settles back down. Eventually, he even manages to sleep deeply without the nightmares coming at all.]