march mod plot log

[savmods]

Who: Everyone
When: March 3rd to March 31st
Where: Thisavrou + New Worlds
Warnings:

thisavrou monthly info ( the tmi )

⋆ All information is current as of day 62 ( there are 100 days in a cycle, which started on January 1st).

⋆ The storm around Thisavrou is rather quiet this month. Although there is still an upsurge in the number of Outpost techs called in, many of them have been put on standby until otherwise needed. Weather on Kauto is a moderate 70°F / 21°C during the day and 65°F / 18 °C at night, and Chioni’s has reached dangerous highs of 200°F / 93°C at peak hours.

⋆ Savrii Notices:

Region One grocery depots are offering sixty percent off of any item purchased between day 70 and 82.

Region Three’s residents are doing a pruning ( every sixty days or so ) and all excess is available to be taken; if you need it for mulch, lumber, etc. it’s free to anyone.

⋆ Mission notices have been posted to TABs for anyone interested in earning a little extra cash. Available missions are listed below:

Day 65 (March 6th) - The locals of Region One (R1) are looking for extra help with cleaning and are hiring pairs to run each machine. They’ll pay 50 sencs an hour or 300 sencs for a full day.

Day 68 ( March 10th) - A group of newcomers have taken shelter in Region Five as their home world is no longer habitable. All of their belongings have been brought through the Ingress and is stacked up outside the EN-Line in R1. Savrii are paying volunteers 70 sencs an hour to help transport everything to their new homes. This species returns kindness with kindness, and will offer any volunteer who goes the extra mile tips ranging from 100 to 200 sencs.

Day 75 (March 16th) - With temperatures on Chioni reaching record highs, some scientists and researchers have been stranded due to EN-Line shutdowns. Those in the Ingress Complex are offering 950 sencs to anyone who is willing to withstand the heat and rescue their fellow colleagues. Any equipment needed for the trip will be provided, but due to the greater increase of temperature, some suits may only cool a body inside for a total of four hours before needing replaced. Plan the trip wisely: most EN-Line access has been completely revoked and travel by foot (or vehicle) is necessary.

Day 87 (March 28th) - Scientific Study. Do you smoke? Are you addicted to any substance? A scientist researching methods to combat addictions, of all kinds, is looking for volunteers. He’ll ask a series of questions, take samples, record, study, analyze, and apply new procedures over the course of a day (nothing invasive without permission). Compensation is 800 sencs with complete cooperation.

---

ingress travel info

⋆ Signatures are the base reason for traveling through the Ingress (aside from general exploration and monetary gain) and are used to discover the correct world visitors on Thisavrou wish to return to. Every visit through a different Ingress brings the technicians a little closer to finding it. The two worlds open for access this month only have a slight impact on the signature of each person who travels.

⋆ Missions are jobs or specific tasks listed on the TAB once new worlds are open for exploration. Be sure to check if Clearance Levels are required to accept some of these missions.

⋆Clearance Levels are given to visitors for the length of time they have been on Thisavrou (or traveling on the Moira). Each CL offers access to certain things or incentives that others will not have.

---

deslora

⋆Upon entering the world of Deslora, everything seems to be connected by an intricate tunnel of tubes that lead to different and very explorable areas of this new place. Ingress travel will have been quick but somewhat nauseating for most, and returning to Thisavrou will result in the same feeling. However, it wears off quickly, and Deslora is opened as EC (exploration class). Aside from the bright colors of the “walls” and the excessive lights, there are also smells of familiarity—to some. Popcorn, pizza, cotton candy. They waft through the tunnels and get stronger the closer anyone comes to the first open area of Deslora, and depending on the route that is taken, some may have to crawl or walk right into it.

⋆Food, perhaps, might be one draw to Deslora, but it is not, so to speak, the main attraction. After piling through the tunnels, it’s like being inside a massive tent. There is no natural lighting, everything illuminated by bulbs or torches placed strategically across the path that leads to an equally smaller tent. Dangling above the doorway is a sign that reads Laugh Your Way to A Smile with reflectors and pieces of glass hanging from its bottom. Entering the tent will reveal a very small but intricately designed room full of twists and turns and mirrors. The strange thing about them comes with looking at your own reflection; passing by will do nothing. If you linger too long, you find your own physical body beginning to take the shape of what is reflected in the mirror. Sometimes, you are stretched thin and tall. Sometimes, you are short and round. And other times, you will find yourself suddenly wavy and curved from head to toe. These changes do not hurt the first few times they happen, but after the third look at your reflection, some alterations may cause pain in your limbs or torso. It increases each time you look at a mirror, and while the effects will fade after a few minutes, it’s best not to linger too long and find your way out through the otherside.

⋆Located several tunnels down - or up, depending on the direction you go - from the Deslora’s ever-popular funhouse is another equally famous attraction. At the top of the steps, a worker waits to pair up individuals into groups of two before ushering them inside the first set of doors. The foyer is quiet, and after the doors behind you have been shut, two single doors ahead of you and your partner begin to illuminate. There is a sign between the doors: Pick A Path . Once through the chosen door, it will lock and the door will slowly fade away. It will quickly become evident that what is in this room is specifically targeted at one out of the two people inside. A happy memory, a beloved hobby, the person you love most - the scenario is always different, but the overall feel is the same. Whatever the room has transformed into, it’s what makes that person the happiest. If it’s a person, they can be spoken to and touched, if it’s an object, it can be used. As the interactions between both characters and the room increase, subtle changes will begin to occur. Slowly, the contents of the room begin to morph into something new. The combination of what one person loves the most and what the other hates the most. The only resolution to be had is to confront the issues and find something in the room to help. For one past patron, the room transformed into thousands of paintings that morphed into painted memories of their partner’s most painful memories. The only way out was a can of varnish tucked back into the corner of the room. Be creative, be careful. Find the way out together.

---

thisavrou (R6)

Every so often, new Regions are built to accommodate visitors who are looking to make Thisavrou their homes, a place to work, and many other acceptable reasons. The Savrii pride themselves on being open to explorers and travelers, allowing Thisavrou to be a mecca of trade, exploration, and for some - a place to live. During many meetings with Savrii intermediates over the course of 600 days, an agreement was made with an entrepreneur looking to find a safe place to build their business. The funder, John Hammond, spent millions of sencs on the proper permits and is funding the building, transportation, expansion and overall creation of Region Six. Over the next 30 days, Mr. Hammond will be following very specific building schematics and with this, will be hiring temporary workers to fill the positions required to do so. Job postings will go up and those that do well, might be offered permanent employment when Region Six is up and running. Hammond, along with his temporary work posts via the TABs, will release a missive explaining the following: a few days before the Region is open he will be hiring a large number of permanent employees in (research, science, ingress, cleaning, security, transportation, customer service) fields. He’ll also thank all Savrii, and anyone living on Thisavrou, for allowing him to bring him and his to live here.

⋆ Construction (different pay depending on skill level required) —

Enclosures: Large, electric and nonelectric enclosures meant to be home to creatures that require the added safety measures. 1,000 sencs per week. Crew lives on site until job is completed.

Arena: Stone seating surrounding an underwater area. 200 sencs per day. Crew can commute to and from work.

Hotels: Temporary living accommodations for guests. Crew are paid 50 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

Crew Homes: Residences for future permanent employees to live in. 50 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

Food Courts: Small huts for the production and selling of food. 40 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

Mini EN-LIne: John Hammond wants to build a smaller version of the EN-Line within Region Six. Technicians and general laborers needed. 60 sencs per hour and have to commute to and from work.

⋆ Cleaning: 100 sencs per day; standard cleaning.

⋆ Transportation: Crates of amber stone and creatures will be coming through the Ingress and need to be taken to Region Six. Extreme care and caution is required. 400 sencs per day. Safety clause is signed before work commences.

⋆ Security: Guards to help in the transport of aforementioned crates. 450 sencs per day. Safety and loyalty clause signed before work begins.

⋆ Creature Care: Two permanent employees. The care of creatures. Resumes need to be submitted here listing credentials. Pay is 4,000 sencs per month and workers must live in Region Six. Safety, loyalty, and privacy clauses will be signed.

⋆ Art Design: One person is to be commissioned to create a logo for Region Six. 2,000 sencs for the finished piece. Contact John Hammond. To Note: All management positions in the fields above are paid double the sencs, but they come with double the responsibility.

---

OOC: For questions please go here. Don’t forget to respond to the Activity Check.

Comments

[shadowblends]

[Yes, of course! He could teleport himself and Erik out of the strange room as long as he could recall any other part of Deslora. It's only his second time here, but he vaguely remembers where he'd gotten the cotton candy - somewhere not too far away and if he can focus enough on getting them there, away from the painful memories in the mirror ...]

I think so. I can see past the room, where I want us to go.

[Kurt hurries to Erik's side, offering his arm out for the older mutant to grab onto.] You might get somewhat disoriented or nauseous, so you should hold on tight.

[notyetsore]

--It is?

[oh god is he going to go to jail]

Well... I think some of my teachers mentioned they were happening. But we were never near any villages then.

gamer lyfe

[im_a_leg]

[That is 1000% believable, I am 1000% sold]

Hey, anything's possible! Makes me sad to think we all live in worlds where we can never meet each other again, so I choose to hope for the best. [And, you know, worry about the alternative unnecessarily, but Kurt doesn't need to hear what a worrier Hunk is.] I'll see if I can't whip something up close to it for you sometime. Ever had sushi?

[Okay so this is clearly an opportunity to show off a little, and absorb new info.] I don't know what spaetzle or sarmale are, but das klingt köstlich ! [His pronunciation is probably really bad, but he's trying. So if he's a little shy when he asks this last part you'll forgive him, right?] Maybe you can make them sometime?

4 LYFE

[shadowblends]

[Yes, good, because he's totally believable.]

When you think about it, how many 'Earths' can actually exist before they begin to blend together? [Not to mention the weird timelines for all of those crazy X-Men shenanigans that he doesn't know much about yet.] I've heard of it, but have not tried it.

[His face lights up, eyebrows lifting in surprise at Hunk's use of German. He finishes the pancakes in his mouth then grins, being careful to not overturn the plate in his lap with his excitement.] Das ist wunderbar, Hunk! [He doesn't seem to mind the way Hunk speaks the language either, too endeared by the fact he's using it in the first place.] For you? Absolutely.

Spaetzle is just soft egg noodles fried in bacon grease or butter, if you prefer. Sometimes, it's added to broth to make a simple soup. Sarmale is cabbage rolls, usually stuffed with a mixture of ground beef, pork or veal, rice, and whatever sort of vegetables one would like with them. My mutter would slow cook them in tomato sauce and fresh thyme for about three hours. Suffice to say, there were not many left once my siblings and I got our hands on them.

[Jean Ralphio voice] the wo~~~ooorst~~~~

[promises_to_keep]

Lea laughs a little.

"I find being a law-abiding citizen all the time can be really dull," he says, waving a hand. "Way I see it, so long as no innocent folks are getting hurt, rules are always fair game for breaking, or at the very least bending. "Lea, by the way," he says then, wiping one hand on a napkin and offering it to the man. "Been here long? Er... not here here, just... You know, around. Away from 'home'."

He quirks his mouth a little then, not quite a frown.

"Yeah, I dunno... I mean, it's definitely a little creepy, nobody being here and all, but..." A shrug. "I mean, it doesn't look like anything horrible went down, so I'm not sure where everybody went. I'm not really doing anything else, though, so if you wanna investigate, I'm game for tagging along."

[redshitlord]

Really? Oh dude.

So who'm I calling for this? Super Mechanic?

[justonetouch]

There are things that Rogue would like to try, and items that she might try on a bet or a dare, but there are other foods that she really doesn't have any interest in trying. Bugs, for instance, especially alive ones. Oysters don't sound appealing. She'll be the first to admit that her palate is limited, and she has no issues with that fact.

Following the motion, Rogue spots where he is gesturing, and her face does lighten. Although the whole free thing does draw her up for a moment. "Really? That seems... Well, no strings attached has usually still got some strings, somewhere."

[notglitching]

He'd planned to protect his allies' ally. He'd planned to get the users help. He'd planned to scout out the new system, search for threats alongside a combatant he half-knew and more-than-half respected.

Plans factor very little into the outcomes he's found here. And if the low rumble of corruption rises just a little, it's no answer. He doesn't have one.

All he can offer is what he's made to do.

The black mask dips. Acknowledgement. Regret, perhaps, but no apology (what use would it be now?). Rinzler's identity disk lights with a low hum, white edge brightening to a blinding flare before it plunges down through core and shell.

[inconsequence]

The world does not stop for one child in pain. The world does not bother to acknowledge the cry of someone calling for help. Nobody came. Nobody ever comes. That's simply the rule of their existence, and the existence of all others like them.

The miss the precise moment in which it happens, body jerking in a spasmodic, rocking series of convulsions the longer they cough, flurries of golden petals spraying from parted lips, crusted with scabs that flake away, leaving beads of blood spattering the floor in their wake. There is no immediate shift. The world does not stop for one child in pain. The world never stops.

There are two, and then there is one.

It is as if the echo was never transposed into flesh and blood, leaving not even a blackened smear of its existence the instant he damages it beyond repair.

Their organs disentangle themselves slowly, taking their sweet time in reaching a restorative equilibrium that was courteously bestowed upon the borrowed body the Ingress granted them.

A final spurt of red and yellow across the back of one wrist, and the tips of their fingers rake across transport floor.

"Congratulations," they rasp. For all the slow, intimate process of their body knitting itself slowly back together, the smile never fades. "Took you long enough."

[notglitching]

Rinzler doesn't let his hand shake. Not on the descent. Still, there's a lag, a glitch, a voiceless, screaming mismatch wrecking through his code as he pulls the weapon back. (User.) (Fightfor.) It's not the first time, and he knows this error, knows exactly what it means. Knows all the reasons why it shouldn't matter in the least.

Tron is dead, and Rinzler is (broken) (failed) different now. Tron is dead, and it's not the first time Rinzler's killed a user, not the first time red blood has sizzled on his circuits, burned off the edges of his disk. Still, he can't flush the press of nausea, and his empty hand finds the ground, lights flickering unevenly as he tries to force it back. (Not the first time he's killed a user, but it is, just maybe—)

'Congratulations.' Rinzler's mask jerks up, sound stuttering with a raw breath of static as he maps the user he'd killed, on the spot where he'd killed it. The sick feeling intensifies (they couldn't have survived), then stalls, confused, as he looks for the second shape slumped on the deck and comes up null. They moved, but they couldn't have. He killed them, but they're fine. Except they aren't, they're missing, one form and frame where there should have been two.

A test. A trick? He doesn't understand. They seem to, though, and Rinzler's frame draws back inward, a tight and angry coil of a crouch. For a long moment, he only stares at Chara. When he does reach for his communicator, there's only one word left to say.

Why?

[inconsequence]

For all his blank-slate lack of external expression, his perpetual distance, his seeming desire for objectivity, it's clear the cold execution of a child simply was never in his proverbial wheelhouse. Lucky for him, then, that the thing was nothing of the sort. A copy of a demon masquerading as a knife-wielding child, at best.

Why?

Thrillingly, there's only one real answer with which they can supply him, palms pressed against the transporter's floor for support as they drag themself roughly upright, one arm hooked around their abdomen as the last painful paroxysms begin to fade.

"The purpose of the room, I imagine." Their voice is entirely too faint. They hiss out a short, sharp breath and try again. "A test."

It seems that he passed.

Congratulations.

[eruit]

If he is to die it will be by my hands.

[ But the thing isn't fighting back, and it grates on Hanzo's nerves. He shifts, pressing his arm into the shadow's neck, limiting whatever air supply it might need before he turns, glancing around the room. He looks to the roof, the corners, the opposite side of where they came in, and in the end all he can do is growl, pressing harder, enough to cut off air completely. ]

And he does not speak. There are no answers to be gained here.

[im_a_leg]

Dude. An infinite amount, really. [He's chewing on another bite of pancake now, hang on a sec. Okay.] I mean, the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics is all about how like anything we ever thought about doing could've happened in another world. Like, I made the choice to eat these pancakes, right? In some other universe Hunk didn't eat these pancakes and he's way sadder.

[He grins, taking another bite, which he uses to hide his pleased flush.] Heh. Thanks. I've been practicing. Sorry about the accent. You're kinda the only German guy I know, so...

[He clears his throat] Anyway. I would totally love to try that. I'll have ot make it for me. And I'll make you sushi. Assuming you like fish anyway.

[notglitching]

He passed. They passed. Someone did, and as Chara pulls themself upright, the strange lightness in the air begins to fade. No violet-tinged sky, no solar sailer, no beam of light ahead to mark an ending. Only a room, nondescript and empty, with a door at the far end. The same one they'd come through.

Rinzler considers it, disk still humming in one hand. The prickling wetness on his hands is fading, but the ghost-sensation lingers, no dullness at all to the memories on file. It was real.

Your assessment?

It's not an effort at blame, as ambiguous as the words are. No, Rinzler's anger isn't nearly focused enough for that. His glower is fixed on the exit, only a curious twitch of the mask settling Chara's way. It was a test. Different in form, but no less rigorous than Clu's. And pass or fail, it's clear enough what he did to complete his part.

What about them?

[inconsequence]

Whatever simulated nightmare this place saw fit to inflict upon the pair of them, it seems the final course of action was all that was needed to sever ties where they stood. The backdrop of the transporter, the sky's purplish tint, the subtle gradation of colors indicating a termination of light - it all dissolves into nothing.

It leaves a simple emptiness, suspended and perpetually unremarkable.

Their assessment?

Since when has that mattered?

The question elicits a sharp, bitter burst of mirth, a bark of broken laughter that clips itself short midway through.

"It seems I'll live. Unfortunately."

[notglitching]

Not the question. Or not an answer that should match. The qualifier draws a longer stare, but Rinzler doesn't ask. Serious or joking, he doubts he'd get a clear response.

Instead, he straightens, crouch to his usual bent hunch. The disk still fills his left hand, but his right flits across the keyboard interface, projecting one last line before he lets the display close.

Deleting local admins.

His helmet tips toward the door. The exit. Toward the users who'd run this place, promising an attraction, a treat, a fantastic suprise! Rinzler's noise has steadied, no skip or stall to offer an inflection, but that tilt lasts a beat longer than it should. Invitation.

Do they want to help?

[fuelthefire]

[Yeah, Gaige, even Krieg knows how that sounded.

He's not going to give her shit for it, though. There are plenty of far more interesting things taking place that he'd rather focus his attention on.]

Different and better! Better loot, better guns, more meat for the pounding!

[Sir Hammerlock the simulacrum seems to take that as a cue, and follows up with,

Jolly good! If you'll just follow me, then, we'll get this hunting weekend started!

...Well, look at that, Gaige, you do get to follow him home.]

[inconsequence]

Deleting local admins.

They could hazard a guess as to what that means. Likely nothing one would typically regard as pleasant, but he takes no further clear action against them. No further attempts to impede their own efforts to ensure that the scrap would have ended as swiftly and efficiently as possible.

Deleting local admins.

Do they want to help?

Certainly.

Anything to drag their mind away from what he just witnessed, was the indirect cause of. Anything to assure that this will be forgotten, speedily and cleanly, and never mentioned again.

They sway slightly on the spot in the wake of the press of their palms to the floor, sweat-slicked but no longer trembling and weakened from the persistent cling of sickness to their skin.

It comes easily to them, the smile. It is as if it never left.

"Why not?"

[notglitching]

Swaying, but not stumbling. Sweat-slicked, but not weak. Rinzler watches, and Rinzler rates them operational enough. Combat is Chara's function, after all. Whichever set of memories they hold; whatever damage this frame took, they have more reason for this fight than him.

And it's not as if keeping them from battle had done anything at all.

They're skilled enough. They're willing. That's all that matters, all anyone here needs to discuss. And if there's a part of him that doubts things could be that simple, if he half-expects a retaliatory blade, it doesn't stop Rinzler from turning first. He makes for the door and through it, leaving the passage open in his wake.

[inconsequence]

Alive. Regrettably. Unfortunately. This seems to be a common trait, with them; surviving, despite every odd stacked against them, despite every indication that they should not, as if the entirety of general existence has simply decided on some grandiose, multiversal level that they must Continue to endure. The Game never Ends, and they will never learn to QUIT.

Out to spite, out of some hideous sense of cosmic irony, out of some manner of hellish recrimination; who can say?

It hardly matters. In the long run, or in the short.

They advance through the door.

They do what they do, sickeningly, best of all.

♥ Continue        * Reset

[sleepdarts]

She gives a nod, the information interesting. Either they'd adapted to deal with the conditions or they'd always been able to -- maybe settled there because of it. She wasn't going to ask it, not looking for the history.

"They're lucky you were able to help." Sure there'd been suits, and maybe even others skilled, but the more skilled bodies always helped in something like this.

"I trust no one was injured in the efforts?"

[mylawn]

Don't let me stop you, then.

[Because it seems like, in lieu of anything else, trying to kill whatever this thing is might be the only course of action they can take. Nothing else has elicited a response so far.]

[eruit]

[ It's not as though Hanzo needed any kind of permission to go out of his way and do what he wanted to do - and, again, the mirror of himself did not fight back. Instead, all he did was press harder, the strength of his muscle tight against the man's throat, his gaze intense and sure.

His voice breaks, a little, when he speaks. ]

Cowardly.

[ Hanzo does not stop until the shadow collapses onto the ground, but when he glances - his hands are stained red. He drew no blood, but he is stained all the same, and he knows why even as he wipes his hands on his clothing to try and remove it. ]

We must continue our search.

[notyetsore]

...Should we just… leave? Or… pile them up and then leave.

[Look he’s pretty sure they’re gonna get kicked out one way or another once someone finds this going on.]

[shiro2hero]

Let's... stack them as best we can.

[They should at least try to make it less awful.]