❪ event ❫ THE DESCENT: PART ONE.

[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 2 will be posted on JULY 18TH and PART 3 on JULY 22ND, at 6 PM EST. In the event of CAPTCHA, we will be providing an overflow. In the event of a second CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals. 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 QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● world ● map ● reputation ● npcs taken ● reserves ● application calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[pappio]

[ bruh

That's all it is. Gloating served up to avarice, like the slow death of Eos wasn't enough to placate him. All this time, and Gladio's never quite come to terms with any of it— if it's vengeance that propels Ardyn, or some kind of petty, jejune impulse for wreaking havoc that thrives in him. Hate is deathless under the right impetus and Gladio's not too far from loathing the machinations of a guy who helps and spurns in the same breath.

Smashing away bits of glass, Gladio ignores the question, like he does the cuts stinging at his hands where they catch on the shards. Doesn't take a second glance to verify the inkiness streaming out from one of the hands he's sliced into (and isn't that fitting, that Ardyn's insides match his outsides, rotting and cadaverous) and braces the door from the other side, snapping off the knob. From there, it's a matter of kicking it open with the flat of one sole.

(His answer is implicit, anyways, thrumming in that steely-eyed look. No. He won't need any help. Not from him.)

Only takes a moment to rip the safety pack from the inner casing of the pod, ransacking it for any valuables before stepping out into the light. Don't mind Gladio being a hypocrite, though, and popping a question of his own. It's all that self-entitlement in his breeding speaking up. ]

The hell are you doing here?

[ Maybe he'll be smart with his answer, whatever. Gladio asks with a plain irreverence for any smart jabs, all the same. ]

[daemonized]

[don't u bruh me, learn to wear a shirt

He just watches as Gladio runs small cuts along his own hands as they pass through the glass, stubbornly snapping off the knob and kicking the door open. Ardyn doesn't take another step back this time, he only keeps his feet planted to the ground, unmoving and unimpressed.]

Me? [He splays fingers against his chest in an exaggerated gesture. The cut on his hand has already nearly healed, only faint tinges of something black and rotten betraying that it had been injured at all.]

The same as you, I imagine.

[It's a non-answer and he knows it. It reveals nothing, other than the fact that Ardyn Izunia can be completely and utterly frustrating, but that's news to no one.

Besides, he's busy watching Gladio; taking in the details of his face, trying to match up if he's the same as the one he remembers seeing on the steps leading up to the Citadel. Moments before he brought an angry Infernian down from the sky itself. Thus far, it certainly doesn't look promising.]

[pappio]

[ With Iris's life hanging in the shivery balance, there wasn't much leeway for smashing open Ardyn's pod and beating his comatose form to an ink-riddled pulp, back on the Thesa Station. No good opportunities to, either, none that wouldn't get him ejected into the vast depths of space itself, but dignity is for people who can spare the grandiloquent moment for a proper, thorough backstabbing. And Gladio— Gladio's been carrying his resentment for far too long to be healthy, ever since Noct got crystal-vored was consumed by the Crystal, like his ancestors' good graces had chosen to spurn them in their hour of need. ]

You know what I mean, jackass. Awake and pulling your same-old stunts on the poor bastards who don't know no better. [ No love lost on scraping at a hand that's already healing, blotchy and contused as it is under the process of sealing up. Don't think Gladio doesn't notice the looming stare, either, scraping over him. ] Keen on me?

[ 'Cause he's a stunner. But there's nothing like that here— between the four people composing the princely entourage and the crimes enacted against him, Gladio's relation to Ardyn is the most tenuous. There's nothing there, assuming the guise of strangers, like ships ballasted against a storm, brought together by dire circumstance alone. It's only the middleman in the group— the one conspicuously absent from this scene of vicious contrasts— that brings them together at all. (Not even touching the fall of Insomnia or their world, dealt one death blow after the next. Not even.)

Stepping off on the grassy embankment, blades of grass neatly downtrodden, he taps the blade against his shoulder, trying so desperately to conceal the fact that he can't actually dematerialize it anymore, Noct's influence entirely ousted from him. ]

You don't know what I'm here for.

[daemonized]

[Ardyn laughs for two reasons; one, he knows that the sound will only prove to get under the other's skin, and he enjoys making others uncomfortable with his words, with his intonations, with his humorless way of laughing. Two, that Gladio would pretend that his purpose was any more important than his. As if they had a choice to be torn away from Eos, never mind the state of the world.

Their requests, their incentives to help and to work together -- all mere consequences to having lost their home. Having lost their purposes, wayward things in the universe they were now. How laughable that Gladio would say that he doesn't know what he's here for. Ardyn's answer doesn't change. The same as him.

Still, he'll humor him. He answers the question of being keen on him first, with a plain:] Simply matching the face with the memory.

[But then he dares to shrug, as if this were such a casual conversation to be had.]

Enlighten me, then. [And of course Ardyn is both observant and annoying enough to note how that blade doesn't crystallize into nothingness, instead being hefted over Gladio's shoulder as if he intended to carry it.

Oh, that makes him smile.]

And planning on carrying that the whole way? What an unwieldy thing it is.

[pappio]

[ Ardyn, the arbiter of all the bullshit that's gone down since Noctis took the throne (who probably orchestrated that, too, pulled on the Empire's strings to taut manipulation) is, painfully, correct. He'll slash at him, if needs must— if that's what's required of him, for however long Noct's torpor spans, if the Chosen King's slumber is something winding and indefinite or if it's already gone off the rails, found its finiteness in the plummet. Since the ex-chancellor's awoken, there's a good chance Noctis is out there, too, and like a feral dog tearing at scraps, madly begging for more than its allowed, Gladio will find him again.

(Whether it takes subservience to feudal overlords under the guise of divine saviors or years of a world languishing under the tottering stupor of darkness, he'll comply. He did right the first time, and he'll do good by the second go-around. Down the pod chute or subjected to the breadth of Ardyn's inanity, his destination's the same goddamn thing. His purpose lies with Noct.)

Nothing's changed. Nothing essential. ]

What? [ The tendon in his jaw works to a visible tick, his back a convulsing formation of muscle when he scrutinizes Ardyn. A mess upheaval of bluster, every inch of skin thrumming with exasperation: that's something even his face can't hide, even resolved to its deep-seated frown. ] No— I know. It's none of your business, that's what.

[ Naiveté doesn't sit right on Gladio, sorry. Neither does the scoff, edged in proper neglect of the question. Cor's former blade is ill-suited to his purposes, more of a souvenir than a blade he'd ungainly subject to hacking up Ardyn's hoity-toity smile, but if needs must. ]

You know what? Never mind. Don't care what kind of deal you made to get yourself out of cryosleep. Get in my way and I won't hesitate to cut you down.

[daemonized]

But I'm not finished with you yet.

[It reveals so much about the man, in that simple statement. Ardyn isn't finished with Gladio, the he still has the ex-chancellor's attentions hooked into him, like the claws of a cat who refuses to let go of its prey. He hasn't permission to leave, not yet, not when the man's interest is still sparked. Not while there is still an essential question or two that he can ask, even if everything about is presence makes the other's hackles rise.

He is so unconcerned about the aggression that swims underneath the surface of the other, the obvious irritation and blatant signs of wanting to do absolutely nothing with him, that Ardyn will quite poignantly remain in the other's way. His legs are basically immovable pillars in the earth, he is a broad-shouldered obstacle, even if Gladio does stand a few inches taller than him.

Pointedly, he does not follow the thread of conversation having to do with what deal he would've made to awaken. Instead:]

Let us halt with the grandstanding, then. I have a question for you, as I attempt to understand this tricky business of timelines.

[pappio]

[ Okay. He's got better things to do than take the dredges of his livelihood and let it spin on Ardyn's dime, sore and aggrieved and a good deal tired of these banalities. Better things to do than this bait-and-switch, when every second counts against him, ticking without the pretense of paper-thin pleasantries to keep him from lopping Ardyn's head off at the brain stem. (Like that went so well, last time, courting his anger with Noctis already sealed up in crystallized incarceration and laid to rest.)

Begrudging the harbinger of a bad omen and near-destroyer of their world? Not his style. Not that he trusts a single word that rattles out of Ardyn, but at the cusp of saying something insanely dumb like figure it out on your own and turning his back to a creature that's long-since outlived his humanity, he thinks better of it. Just this once. Ardyn tagging along with him, dogging at his steps, would be a massive pain.

Give Gladio the time of day to tap that overlarge monstrosity of a sword across his shoulders as he shoves past him, only to come to a standstill some few feet away. ]

You gonna spit it out, or are you just gonna stand there and waste my time?

[ Enough of the posturing. ]

[daemonized]

And what's your hurry? We've all the time in the world to waste.

[You've all the time to give him if he dictates it, is his true meaning. Watch him be completely unaffected at everything being thrown at him; watch him barely even blink at being shoved out of the way, to be not at all impressed by the blade at the man's back. He should be -- but he's lived too long, has experienced too much, knows too much of what he's become and how much he can take to really feel impressed by much of anything or anyone from Eos.

But, he'll ask. Because in the end, he does want to know.]

What's the last thing you remember from home? And if it has anything to do with darkness, how long as it been for you?

[How long has the world been engulfed in night, is his meaning.]

[pappio]

[ Not his fault that Ardyn's projecting, or that he can't even die right, downtrodden and carrying the scourge in him in a place that can't disassociate from the honest fault of mortality. Time is precious, because time is finite. There's only so much left on Gladio's ticker; only so much he can do with the breadth of his two hands and physical strength born out of necessity, so haste is a born eventuality.

Rather than humor Ardyn's yap-yap or prancing talk, mind games that'd twist a willing victim, Gladio scoffs— his breath lashing with the rebuttal. ]

I remember you. [ So he says, insipid and unhelpful, but entirely true, with Ardyn standing before him in the flesh. Forgetting his ugly mug? Unlikely. ] As for how long it's been? Long enough. I'm sure you've been keeping track, right up 'til the end. Figure you'd know better than me.

[ Vague, vague, vague. But that's all a poor bastard like Ardyn deserves, as Gladio takes to trekking off, sword in tow. ]

Think we're done here.