march mod plot log

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The knife, Rinzler regards as strictly sensible. Chara themself is still flagged as under assessment, but if nothing else, they seem to share a goal. While the worker's approach earns a threatening shift of sound and frame (neatly freezing the creature's reach to clap him on the shoulder), Rinzler has no complaints to share for the assignment.

He's curious if Chara does. He won't ask, though, instead making the first move forward into the foyer. It's a concession, if a small one; users lack scans and they hadn't been eager to turn their back before.

Well. It seems they will be accompanied by the very same robotic ninja-esque thing that has inquired as to their well-being and the well-being of their housemates. They've no biases against him personally; he's done nothing objectionable as far as they can tell. The mask is, just as well, a means of concealing a potentially humanlike appearance. That works obliquely in his favor.

Obliquely.

"Have you a preference?" asks the child, indicating the set of doors with an inclination of their chin as they follow suit. They are but a humble servant, and therefore not entitled to pursue an option of their own choosing. Are they not?

Pick a Path. Rinzler's helmet tilts from one door to the next, noting identical frames with equivalent illumination. Preference has always been shaky ground for the enforcer, but this instance seems particularly devoid of cues.

In lieu of an answer, he dips into a crouch, placing one hand flat on the ground between. Motes of light trickle up from the floor nearby, ghost-shapes of footprints—mostly in user-white, though Rinzler's red-orange isn't the only exception. Traces, mapping out the paths of those who've come before. The numbers are roughly equivalent, equal pairings following each route.

And no one at all emerging.

Probably coincidence. Most of these tunnels have more than one path out; in all likelihood, the exit is just elsewhere. Probably. Rinzler straightens to his usual hunch and offers a shake of his head: no preference.

No preference. Fine. If they must be the proactive force in this establishment, if they may force once be allowed a modicum of control (and it is, unmistakably, allowed of them, an illusion of agency that will not fool them twice), they may as well employ it to the best of their ability. Whatever means of divining the best possible path Rinzler initiates is irrelevant, particularly as it appears to do little more than summon a mass of pretty lights.

Something almost reminiscent of Waterfall, if they were predisposed to nostalgia. Almost.

It would be best if they'd a more reasonable method of picking which path is least objectionable, but - there is no means of predicting what either door might hold, and the longer they dither, the more time is lost.

So they cross the length of space in a matter of brusque strides and open the door to right. And they shoot Rinzler a painted smile.

"After you."

No one approaches them from the back.

The black mask inclines down towards Chara, lingering just a beat too long to be completely casual. Rinzler's not stupid enough to mistake positioning for courtesy, no matter the face or phrase tagged alongside. But, Rinzler's not afraid either—not of them. Not of exposing his disk dock to another user so soon after the last...

No.

He refuses to be.

The helmet dips: irony, courtesy, acknowledgement in return. And Rinzler steps into the passageway, scans alone tracking the bright, small signature behind. The hall is long and narrow, though thankfully bereft of the sheen of gaudy color that filled the other tunnels of this world.

There's a light at the end. Dim and diffuse, hall opening to something wider. It looks different. Better, in some way Rinzler can't quite quantify. A larger cave, maybe. A power spring?

He isn't expecting to find sky.

The entire setup could have potentially worked itself into an irritating and mortifying standstill, but there is only a token hesitation before Rinzler progresses, and they follow. The door swings shut with a quiet click. Their hand twitches at their side, inching to the Knife sheathed there.

Darkness is a perfect cover for an ambush, but nothing springs out at the pair of them. They simply advance until the hallway terminates in a soft point of light. A SAVE point, their mind supplies inanely, before they dismiss the notion, pressing it far, far back into the posterior of their mind.

Instead, the hall opens to an expanse of forget-me-not blue, a broad and opened sky that cannot be real. Cannot possibly be, and so must be - some sort of simulation. Some sort of product of a projection.

"This is not real." The pronouncement is, perhaps, obvious. And therefore superfluous.

It would have been better to have said nothing at all.

Real? Oh, it shouldn't be. There's no way at all this wide expanse of open space could fit at all within the twisting confines of bright color that map the other pathways of this place. The ground terminates a few paces from the hallway's edge, leaving them atop a massive cliff. Bright, clear blue in all directions, diffusing out to pink at the horizon's edge in a way that doesn't quite match any user world Rinzler has seen.

It calls to older tags instead. Something damaged (~~and stolen~~) and lost.

(It feels like home.)

It can't be real. It can't, because Rinzler has never been here, never sailed through a sky this shade with certainty in (~~his friends~~) (~~his faith~~) his purpose. Rinzler's knowledge in himself has never been shakier, and he has no idea in the least why they've come here at all. But it looks real. Scans real, in a way the projection chamber on the Moira never could. Rinzler reaches a hand out over the gap, half expecting to meet wall or trick or trap, and feels only a slight breeze between his fingers.

More data required. The constant rumble picks up slightly as Rinzler cocks his helmet toward Chara... takes a step back... and runs. He crosses over the abyss, frame twisting in a somersault as he drops out of sight. Gravity, at least, appears as real as always.

Wait? Watch? Join? Rinzler will be back shortly, but in the interim, Chara's choices are entirely their own.

It is not real, nor is it familiar. An odd tint to the sky, as though viewing it through a photo-negative lens, the false horizon a gaudy shade of cartoonish pink. Their gaze sweeps over the vast landscape with an even stare. Nothing worth seeing, or doing; simply a seemingly endless expanse stretching ad infinitum in every direction.

Rinzler does not dispense any of his typical laconic commentary, though he does fancy himself the acrobat as he clears the gap and, for the moment, disappears.

The Knife slips out from its sheath, held warily in front of them as they move in ever-widening concentric circles. The tip of the blade doesn't encounter any solid object that might denote an exit, hidden or otherwise.

A query swells on their tongue. Bite it down.

Calling for help yields nothing.

What one person loves.

What the other hates.

The sensation of eyes on the back of their head tightens their grip on the Knife. A slight turn of their head to track the prickle of someone else's gaze.

Nothing sets the child's mirror image apart from the real. They are indistinct and reflected precisely, right down to the blade in their hand, the false smile splitting an ugly human face, capstoned in the rosy pink of too-warm, too-bright cheeks.

"And this is truly the best this place can do?" the real child asks, the words turned downward in low-pitched scorn. As if this thing is worth their time, the effort of a brilliant smile, the horizontal slash to bisect a throat.

A twin to match them. Yes. How utterly, abjectly terrifying.

Everyone knows one Chara is already one too many.

The rush of air. The color of the sky. The warm hum that seems to build as he drops lower, a current of potential stirring on the breeze. It feels like a system. A real system, a true system, but where returning to the Grid had left Rinzler trapped and terrified, this feels... different.

He wants to be here.

He wants it. He can. The temptation is tangible: to rezz up his jet and head toward the faint lights below. To find a power spring, a tower, a different sort of flier traveling a fixed path through the sky. Yori. She should be here. She is, he's sure, if he just looks.

The baton unclips with a quiet click. It breaks apart between his hands, and threads of color sketch out wireframe and wings. Rinzler leans, hands locked on the controls... and slowly, the lightjet rises toward the sky. Toward the cliff face. Toward the ally he'd left behind. Or ally of allies, but Rinzler's not sure that in this circumstance, it's any different.

Only a user would leave their companions behind.

He scouts as he flies, noting the flare of light on the horizon, a few beams in the region below that might mark transit paths. It takes far too little time. The region they're in must be the Outlands of this place, and there shouldn't be much more than bugs to pose a threat. Still, when he crests the lip of the cliff face, he finds that Chara has, perhaps unsurprisingly, managed to exceed expectations. The red-orange jet circles, once, twice, before dissolving, leaving Rinzler to drop to the ground.

About a dozen paces from the pair of users.

A pair of blades flash out from their sheathes in parallel, a pair of steps taken. Their echo does not reply to the taunt, to the smug commentary. They simply advance, without fanfare. The hot ping of crossed Knives, the flare of dust motes and swirls of whatever abstruse magic the twin blades exude, and one dances back. The other cleaves forward.

They parry and cut and riposte in silence, greeting their twin's downward slash with a horizontal cut. The blades drag against one another in the high, rasping squeal of metal grating on metal before separating, surging forward to intermingle once more. A swirl of red and yellow and green, a flash of brown hair, a series of movements that are far from Rinzler's oiled, acrobatic twists and turns, that are heavy and rough and deliberate.

They could call for his assistance.

But they know what calling for help gets you.

They act the same. They look the same. They scan the same, and that, more than anything confirms the situation. For all that Rinzler has never seen Chara write or use or edit, they have that power over his kind just like any user would. They could make a program. Break a program. Make it happy to be harmed.

But today, at least, that potential stays untapped. Both figures slash and chop and turn, both hum with the same overbright signature. Both act with the same focus, both fight with the same skill.

Both are, in effect, the companion he came in with.

Rinzler's right hand drops to his side, jerking free his second baton. The two weapons slam together, fusing, and a short extension forms at either end. Staff weapon, at low charge. His entry into the fight comes with a quick jab and twist: intercepting both paired blades in an effort to shove each to their own side.

A baton spritzing to life, driving between the pair of them with the crossing of scarlet blades. Both children lead cleanly back. One pair of eyes flickers to the interruption. The other's remain fixed on their target with their glued-on smile.

99 ATK cuts through skin as easily as butter. One hit is all it will take. Even with the Locket, one hit is all it ever takes.

"They won't QUIT." It is questionable which counts as the companion with whom he entered the simulation, just as it is questionable as to which of them speaks, now.

They continue to circle one another warily, neither giving ground.

The users leap back, and Rinzler shifts forward, staff swinging slow circles to ensure the gap stays clear. He flags what differences he can, granting slightly more credit to the one that glances his way. Original or not, that user at least has the sense to keep its eyes on both potential threats.

At the words, he inclines his helmet, sound dropping to a liquid, steady growl. Acknowledged. Also? Disregarded. Rinzler doesn't know which (if either) iteration is the one he came in with. Rinzler also doesn't care. Chara is Frisk's ally, and Asriel's, and if their relation to him is much more nebulous, the enforcer still doesn't intend to let them take harm. Either 'them'. The lazy spirals of the staff increase in speed, ends simmering a sharp red-orange.

They can back off. They can fight him. But until the blades are sheathed, he doesn't plan on moving.

A clever tactic, they will grant him that. Allowing neither the space or opportunity to attack, giving quarter to neither specter. Both are potential threats, are they not?

A vibrant arc of orange ignites the space between them as the tip of the staff spins in ever-widening arcs. One child keeps their eyes fixed on the goal, their mirror image, while the other's gaze flicks between both.

One of them will die, if not both. With two abominations occupying the same room, such a conclusion is inevitable.

One darts forward, blade upraised, attempting to skirt the reach of Rinzler's staff to reach their twin with single-minded focus.

What an idiot.

The convenience of a staff? Is reach. And much, much more than the easy circles might imply. The flash of motion catches Rinzler's focus, and one hand locks around the edge of the wide grip, the other sliding along the haft to meet it. It doubles the extension of his arc as he flicks the weapon's end to meet the moving frame.

If it connects, discharge will be immediate: a crackle of current sufficient to force a normal program offline... and hopefully, at least temporarily incapacitate this user.

Temporarily incapacitated it is, the tip of the staff catching it in the center of its mass. It doubles over, rolling to try and recover, but the shock to their system jars their balance, sending them skidding.

The second darts forward, seizing the opportunity Rinzler has helpfully presented. Their eye, at least, is on both their target and the staff, long-reaching as it is, even as they lurch forward to

Finish it.

No. No, no, no, and Rinzler is moving, frame and weapon carving a red-lit blur to intercept. Both are allies, both are threats, and he won't let either version die, no matter the consequence. He decided that they wouldn't.

Chara is fast, but Rinzler has proximity—and no small amount of speed on his own side. The other end of the staff angles to meet their charge; if they evade the strike, they'll still find him moving in between them. Scans track the other Chara—users are resilient, and this one more than most. He isn't counting on them staying down.

No matter the consequence, right?

They spring back as he moves between the pair of them, intervening; if he incapacitates them as easily as he did their double, then they will be down a significant advantage. The child on the floor still twitches, attempting to work their hands beneath them and press themself to their feet.

Determination.

It's a hell of a drug.

"Move," hisses the child circling in front of him, spinning the blade so they have it clenched in a reverse grip. "They're - "

- coming at him from behind, their blade swinging from their position on the ground, arcing for his ankle.

The retreating version is definitely getting flagged the smarter one, at least for now. All the more reason to keep watch. The twitch of movement behind registers in time with Chara's words, and Rinzler drops one hand from staff to ground, pivoting his lower body upward in a flip as his weapon hand twists back.

His target is the striking Chara, but he'll complete the full revolution, even if they manage to avoid: a circular low sweep to force both of them to keep their distance. From him, and more importantly, from each other.

Another swing, and at least the latter of them misses. He's light on his feet, albeit pointlessly acrobatic. The Chara on the floor rolls to avoid the second strike, and the second is again forced into a retreat as the staff breaks into another sweep.

"Leave it," says the first.

"You seem to have misunderstood," rasps the second from the floor, hissing out the words with honey-smooth venom.

"It will be one of us," says Chara, circling.

The second finishes with a low hum of exertion as they press themself to their feet, swaying.

"Or it will be neither."

The acrobatics, Chara might have to get used to. Rinzler ducks his mask and launches off the planted hand, regaining his footing with a liquid twist of lights and limbs. The stance he lands in is wide and balanced, weapon ready in both hands. It takes only a step to match the circling efforts of the first Chara, keeping himself exactly in between.

Fortunate, that it takes no words at all to answer.

Noise grinds out, steady and even, as the black mask jerks once to the side. Not acceptable. Whatever their glitch, it's clearly mutual. They can mutually resolve it—or mutually fight him—but he's not going to back down.

Perhaps they could forgive him his shortsightedness. His inability to perceive the situation laid out cleanly before him in a startlingly red inflorescence. Perhaps they could. But they are not Frisk. Forgiveness is not their weapon, and green is only partially their color.

He has only just started to learn what happens when a child gets to meet themself.

The Chara on the floor drags themself to their feet, swaying on the spot, their smile plastered easily atop their features. Determination. It's more than capable of pressing you forward, when all else has failed. It's more than capable of ensuring that one survives long enough to do as they will.

Two anomalies could never coexist.

The uninjured one draws something from their pocket and hurls it, a streak of silver aiming for their double's throat.

They never let go of the Knife. But they do not come with a Knife.

They come with knives.

Scans are up. Attention very much settled on both users, as Rinzler shifts and steps and stays between. His first encounter with any Chara had come when they attacked him, and whether this pair was wiped or copied from that mold, Rinzler doesn't delude himself. However he tags them, whatever risk or value he chooses to assign, the odds are certainly not low that Chara will attempt the quickest path to their shared goal. They are users, after all.

And he is, unmistakably, in their way.

It's surprising, almost, that the undamaged version hasn't tried to take him down. Surprising and intelligent. They wouldn't win. Whether they know that fact, are playing for advantage, or have some other motive... he doesn't know. It doesn't matter. Ally or threat (currently, both), it sets them aside as ever so slightly more dangerous.

Scans track both users. But Rinzler's eyes are on that one.

He sees the reach. Sees the intent welling behind it. Rinzler is a creature of trajectories, a being made to throw and block and twist aside, and it's with minor surprise that he flags (even now) the target of this one. It's the effort of a moment to spin his staff, angled to strike the knife mid-revolution and send it clattering aside. Projections flicker in background processing, readying for the inevitable retaliation from behind, but Rinzler's mask only quirks in the direction of the thrower.

Nice try. But no.

thisavrou monthly info ( the tmi )

ingress travel info

deslora

thisavrou (R6)

pick a path

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1/3

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:)

:) :), I'd think

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