thisavrou_log | december event log

Entry tags:

december event log

Who: Everyone
When: December 1st and on
Where: The Midway Hub.
What: With the Moira destroyed, the crew travel to the center of the Hub.
Warnings: Potential violence. Lots and lots and lots of walking. Please label your content

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the outer gate
"Open up, and let them in."

The Moira is no more.

With the damage done to the ship due to the timeslip, all that remains is a burning wreckage and parts to be taken—if the crew can find anything in the pieces. Recovery and headcounts are the main objective for the first several hours of being planetside, and once things have settled just enough, Captain Ira calls for a meeting and addresses those who are able in person to explain the situation. He draws a rough map of the area and explains where he believes they are - according to the terrain - and where they must go. For anyone who’s listening, he describes things like an “Outer Gate”, an “Inner Gate” and “gate sectors”. Believing this to be the best course of action, all crew are asked to explore and gather what they think they’ll need to make the long journey towards the central point of the Hub. Because the MIDs are no longer working due to the lack of a network, the Captains distribute a newer tech called the TAB. It serves the same functions as the MID but is lighter, slimmer, and has the ability to stick to any surface.

WELCOME TO THE MIDWAY HUB

Now that the smoke from the crash has cleared, and injured crew have been tended to, the Captains get everyone ready for departure by explaining what they know of the Hub. Almost stone-like, the creators built a domed workspace in the largest solid space on the planet they could find. Gates are the only way inside, and anyone who catches a glimpse of the compound will see that parts of the dome are cracked. Yet, everything still appears to be relatively intact. The Midway Hub’s terrain is very rocky and difficult to walk on at times. Below the surface is a honeycomb of intermittently dense and brittle stone that makes travel difficult due to the unpredictable nature of what lies beneath the crew’s feet. Those who can develop the tech from what’s left of the debris might be able to create something to determine which route is the safest. Ships and small crafts can be used to fly, but landing is a problem—rocks jut up in sharp peaks and the clearer spots can't handle their weight. Vegetation is sparse, consisting of twisted dark gray thistles that have sprung up from cracks in the rock and burn when in direct contact with skin, and what could be considered small animals here can be seen scurrying away the closer crew get to them.

☄ WEEK ONE

Crew are asked to hook cryo beds together and to use any appropriate vehicles that can be made or fashioned to fit the terrain to carry injured crew on the journey to the center of the Hub. Supplies are gathered, and the Captains, as well as any crew who want to, give the Moira a proper sendoff, heads bowed as they say goodbye to what’s been their home. Traveling starts out slowly, a line of a hundred-plus crew members making their way slowly forward. Stops are frequent, but camping for rest only occurs at night. Crew are assigned watch shifts, fires are built, injured tended to, and those who are able are asked to explore nearby caves and hunt for food.

Something akin to deer, though striped and only to be found in pairs, can be stumbled across at night. Throngs of dark purple mammels begin to follow the Moirans on their trip as well. They are friendly, curious, and eat the thistle. Meet the intelligent, watchful predators that aren’t easily scared away and follow the crew from a distance as if waiting to pounce. The thistle can be eaten, but only if cooked first, and those who sample the chewy plant raw will experience a burning sensation in their throat that doesn’t go away until the cooked version is consumed. During the first week, water can’t be found.

Anyone who does hunt, gather, or explore should make sure to that their TABS are on and it’s suggested that nobody goes alone.

Nearing the end of the first week, an Ingress can be spotted close by that crew can explore. If anyone dares to go inside, they will find the texture of the ground and surrounding walls to be rather soft. If inspected closely, crew will discover that what they originally thought to be rock is actually a living organism that’s fed off the energy of the Ingress it’s attached itself to. It’s not harmful and squishy to the touch. If pressed hard enough, it secretes a turquoise liquid with the consistency of water that might make a good substitute for that very thing.

☄ WEEK TWO

When crew finally pass through the sector gates, a strange sensation encompasses them, and a depowering of sorts goes into effect. The creators put in security measures meant to put all visitors on equal footing as well as to protect themselves from harm. All crew will essentially have the strength and abilities of the average human. An unforeseen issue, this causes Captain Thán to slip into a coma as he is no longer able to continue to recover at a steady pace, and with the loss of the former Captain’s abilities, crew can no longer be brought back if they die. For the first time, all Moirans are subject to permanent death.

During this week of travel, broken ingress machines and parts will be found scattered among the rocks, and new crew will come through. Unfortunately, these Ingresses aren’t in good shape, and anyone coming through will be in varying states of distress—some physical and some mental. New individuals will either have suffered an age slip, growing older or younger than their original body, some form of body transformation (perhaps that shiny thing they were wearing is now part of them somehow), or an extreme weakness they had never been subjected to before arriving on the Midway Hub. The new people will be offered to join their group, once found, and seasoned crew will be asked to explain to them where they are going and what they know.

The rest of the week will be a mix of greeting the new arrivals and continuing to travel to the center of the Hub. The closer they get, the less frequently they’ll see animals, and more caves will begin to pop up.

☄ WEEK THREE

Entering the third week of travel, settlements and houses begin to crop up and are prime areas for exploration and general supplies. Those who go inside may find items that have been left behind and evidence showing that those of varying species and cultures lived in the homes. Some appeared to have been scientists while others were explorers, but all living quarters are deserted. Crew who are less lucky in their search might come away with no fresh supplies, and others might walk into traps or safeguards left behind by previous tenants; these come in many forms, from mild paralysis to temporary unconsciousness. As there are more residences, there are also more caves. The entrances vary in size, and light sources will be needed to explore. Once inside, crew can find purple underwater streams, which can be consumed, and glowing surfaces. When crew drink the water, it temporarily restores powers, a few minutes tops, and then, extreme lethargy settles in for a couple of hours.

Further into the cave systems, crew will come across these lovely creatures that are attracted to sound and track through scent. They are highly dangerous and attack simply to feed. Killing them, though, is surprisingly simple as they are just as vulnerable and weak as everyone else. They are vicious in demeanor but only as strong as an average human.

The closer to the Inner Gate crew get, the less homes, wildlife, and more caves there will be.

☄ WEEK FOUR

The Captains, aware that the crew is exhausted, stop and make camp for the first few days. Someone mentions that it’s the holidays where they’re from, and the Captains do their best to throw a party. Set up at the base of a cave, tents are built and fires roar. Soft music is played in the form of guitar, thank you Ira, and Cúrre brings out some legumes that taste like cherries when roasted. There isn’t much in the way of decorations, but crew are encouraged to dig through their pac-discs and contribute to the festivities.

After a brief respite, crew learn that the entrances to Gate A and Gate B are inside one of the caves but any signs or markings have long since worn away or been destroyed. Groups are split, TABS are synced, and crew explore carefully until an entrance is found. Crew discover Gate A first, and all crew are contacted to gather there. The Captains will remain at the cave entrance until all crew are accounted for, and then, they’ll enter through the gate together.

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Fishing things out of the crate, and placing them into her bag, she nods a touch sympathetically at Chara's observation, somewhat misinterpreting its meaning.]

Welcome to... well. [She blows dust off a roll of bandage, which half-crumbles in her grip, subjecting it to a scornful glare, before continuing.] Normally, I'd say "The Moira", but now we're operating in name only.

[Dusting her hands off on her cargo pants, Shepard makes her way over to Chara, and extends her hand in greeting.]

Name's Shepard. Welcome to the crew.

[Chara regards the hand icily for a moment before accepting it, if with visible wariness and mild distaste. Humans require these sorts of ritualistic exchanges, much as monsters do. Unfortunate, then, that humans rely on physical contact to make such things official.

She could overpower them easily. They keep the thought at the forefront of their mind.]

Charmed.

[They don't offer their name in turn, it should be noted. People seem awfully eager to name the Fallen Child regardless.]

A vast collection of humans trapped in one contained area. Surely this can only go wonderfully.

[Dispassionate handshake aside, the last turn of phrase earns Chara a look — less sharp, more inquisitive, and much more of a second look. Humans didn't often refer to themselves as humans, and it was a good reminder that their crew was from across the multiverses.]

It's had its ups and downs. [There's a good-natured shrug;] After a crash, I'd say anywhere that isn't dead is an "up".

Settling in okay? It's a lot to take in, right now.

[Anywhere that isn't dead is an "up." How unfortunate that Chara would be inclined to disagree. The fact that they are here at all, tethered once again to a world they have no place in, is nothing short of unacceptable.

Were they unimpeded by human selfishness, perhaps they would have rectified this by now.]

Swimmingly.

[A flat tone and an even flatter look.]

It is hardly a worst case scenario.

Agreed.

[Not much else to cover, there. Picking up her crowbar, she moves on to the next crate, wedging it in between the lid and the box proper. She's about to start levering it open, when she glances back at Chara appraisingly.]

Want to give it a try?

[Shepard gestures to the levering setup, ready to roll with the weight of a skillfully-applied child.]

[She offers to

Interesting. That prompts a flash of a smile, abrupt and overly bright, plainly with the expectation that this will backfire accordingly, as it typically does.]

I thought it was dangerous to give children such things.

[Children cannot be trusted to do dangerous work, can they? Of course not. That would be absurd.]

Then I'll take full responsibility if you get hit in the face with a piece of box. [Shepard shrugs, expression thoughtful.] Or drop the crowbar on your foot.

But if you want my opinion, you're already in a pretty dangerous environment. In the long run, it's more worthwhile to help people adapt — no matter what age they are. Knowledge will always be a better tool than ignorance.

[She displays more common sense than most. They will have to grant her that much, even if it is, by their own ready admission, not very much at all. So they accept the crowbar, levering the lid off the crate with the push and weight of what little muscle they have to their person.

It takes longer, perhaps, than it should have, but they have a wealth of Determination on their side. And so the box yields with the crack and splinter of wood.]

You may be surprised at how rare one finds that mindset.

I think it's something people have to work into. Kind of shocking how quickly people forget that they were kids once, too.

[As the box lid cracks open, she starts collecting the shards off it, throwing them to the side, and uplifting the contents out.

Another box.]

Huh.

Ready for round two?

[An inspiring mindset, perhaps, if she were talking to an actual child, and not a long-dead thing masquerading as one. That is their story, and they will be sticking fast to it until such a time that it no longer...

It is what they are. Without a doubt.]

I suppose. One has to wonder what the point of double-wrapping the contents may be, unless they happen to be dangerous.

[Without ceremony, they jam the crowbar's end beneath the box's lid and start to jimmy it open.]

[Shepard watches as the second box cracks, the lip coming off much easier this time, almost in one piece. As she steps to pick it up, she considers the contents, and is much rewarded when her theory turns true.

Box #3.]

What an exciting day. Triple-wrapped.

Dare we go deeper?

We would be remiss to stop now.

[If there ends up being nothing at all in the gooey center, they will be disappointed - and yet, not the least bit surprised. That seems the precise sort of trick this world would pull, simply because it can.

So. Box #3 gets a crowbar to the lid, the same as all the others.]

My money's on five layers — no idea on contents, though. Could be valuable, dangerous, or just someone's idea of a practical joke.

[Box #3's lid is, for whatever stupid reason, nailed in with extra nails, ensuring it will not pop off like its brethren with one good crowbarring — rather, an effort must be made at every side of the lid. Shepard taps the extra nails, careful not to get in the way of activity.]

This one's got a little extra.

Then I shall take care not to bash the entire thing in as I take it to pieces.

[To give up now - that is not what they are. That is not what they do. Iron out the mask, keep an even composure, a locked expression.

They do not yield for anyone or anything, much less a silly box with nails.

Even if those nails are proving to be somewhat - difficult, when put against a scrawny preteen's physique.]

Hmm. [If she, of currently-nerfed normal adult strength, was struggling with some of the boxes, then a smaller frame might simply end up with double the trouble. Shepard shifts, moving closer, hands open in front of her body.]

Four hands are better than two?

[They did not call for her help, they nearly round on her with something akin to a snarl. They do not acknowledge her immediately, their attention wholly fixed on jimmying loose whatever nails they can. It is slow, arduous going, inefficient at best, and yet - they refuse to be beaten by little more than a wooden crate.

They refuse.

Their teeth gritted, they eke out the words, taking care not to growl them out like some sort of - like the beast they are:]

Patience, miss.

[And this time they do not attack the nails holding the lid down; they attack the lid itself, jamming the butt end of the crowbar against the wood, striking it until it cracks and yields.

If they accrue splinters in the process, it will hardly be the worst sort of impaling they've received in their protracted lifetime.]

["Patience", she says, displaying nothing akin to it. A chunk of wood splinters, groans, and snaps free, trajectory bound for Shepard's face — before she snatches it out of the air, throwing it to the side, reflexes unaffected by her apparent loss of strength.

Box successfully opened-- well, split, Shepard reaches out, and puts her hand on the still-moving crowbar, the suggestion of taking it, without actually pulling.

With her other, she holds out a pair of work gloves.]

Okay. That's as far as we're getting with this. Let's clear the rest away with our hands.

[Well. That went - incredibly well. She retrieves a pair of gloves and places a stilling hand on their tool. For a moment something in their chest constricts, eyes darting to her face in an implicit challenge. She knows best, doesn't she? Adults always know best, and this is

Ha.

Smile. And relinquish your weapon. You have a knife. You have it secreted away on your person, a harmless little switchblade, but something nonetheless. It is only with this on your person that this level of proximity between them and her is in any way acceptable.

So. Smile.]

If you insist.

Well, I guess we could just bash the box until it falls apart, but... [She shrugs.] Seems like a waste, when we went through this much trouble.

[Pulling on her own gloves, Shepard cracks a splint of wood back, and throws it to the side.]

I think I see our next target in here.

[Sure enough, visible through the cracks, is a perfect little... chest? Red faux-laquerwear, sealed only with an ornate lock, it's dusted with fragments of chest, but otherwise unharmed.]

[Breaking the box would potentially damage the contents within. Of course. Yes. And being a cunning, manipulative mastermind, Chara of course knew this from the very beginning. Absolutely.

The corner of their mouth twists in apparent distaste.]

Yet another box. How novel.

[A nicer-looking box, certainly, but a box nonetheless.]

[Drawing it out, Shepard puzzles at the lock for a minute — and then, with little to no ceremony, snaps it off cleanly.]

Ah.

Did not mean to do that, actually.

[The metal, weak to begin with despite its ornate appearance, had practically fallen to bits in Shepard's hands, even strength nerfed as she was.

Anti-climatic, if she was honest.

Spinning the box around, she holds it out in front of Chara.]

Ready? Three, two one.

[She pulls it open.

And inside, is two perfect coins. One gold, one silver — both unadorned, save for a plus on one side, and a minus on the other.

There's a long moment as Shepard stares at them, before asking:]

What in the fresh hell.

[She gets it open, in any case, regardless of in what way she succeeds. Most of the box's exterior crumbles away, and there is a certain satisfaction in that, in watching an obstacle be torn easily away.

She yanks the thing open, as though expecting some great treasure or terrible secret to be contained within the triple-boxed nightmare. What could possibly require so much couching in needless layers of insulation?

Apparently, two small coins, unremarkable save for the symbols emblazoned upon them.

They eye the pair of them skeptically before smiling, brightly.]

How kind of civilizations past to put so much worth and effort into wasting our collective time.

Do you want one?

[The knee-jerk reaction is why would I want your garbage.

But one can never know when such things will be useful. The child simply lifts one shoulder, noncommittal, and breathes a short, decisive huff of air through their nose.]

Why not? It will make a lovely decorative addition to the campsite, I'm sure.

Might come in use. You never know out there.

[Proffering the box, Shepard inclines her head towards her companion.]

First pick's yours.

december event log

RELIEVING THEM OF THEIR WORLDLY ATTACHMENTS. WE ARE, IN A WORD. SAINTS.

TRULY WE FELL FROM HEAVEN TO ENLIGHTEN THESE MERE MORTALS. AND SO DID LUCIFER.

FEEL FREE TO DROP!!!

NAH LETS DO IT

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