thisavrou_log | ( february intro log )

Entry tags:

( february intro log )

Who: Everyone
When: February 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Emiri
What: The crew finds themselves on the planet of Emiri
Warnings: Mentions of a corpse. Please label your content!

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famed & framed
"There will be no prison which can hold our movement down."

The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar.

Yet, unlike most new crew arrivals, this one is in the middle of chaos.

Despite more recent events, the planet of Emiri is not as peaceful as it once was. Frederick Link is still missing, and the authorities of Emiri have yet to lift the interplanetary ban they have placed on all space crafts docked at the aerospace. The captains previous held a meeting asking crew for any and all information that might help them locate the Komai, a mysterious group determined to undermine Link'd Inc's work providing flourishing matches across the universe by causing random acts of violence and protest across the three main cities: Harashan, Avelle, and St. Murtel. These things have led to mass arrests as well as an unsettling atmosphere spreading across the planet, and since a previous broadcast, things are beginning to escalate.

A downward spiral of these events begins as soon as new arrivals start to leave the Ingress—an unmarked box arrives in the cargo bay addressed to the inhabitants of the Moira. As per his job, Niko Bellic is the one to discover this box and open it. For some, the contents may be particularly gruesome. Link’s body is inside, clothed in a simple white button-down and pants (no shoes), and it looks as if letters have begun to bleed through the material. Anyone with expert knowledge of torture may note that Link was, in fact, tortured for information, and those letters? The writing itself spells out the name St. Murtel.

The captains, having been alerted of this, make an attempt to contact those at Link’d Inc. Unfortunately, the damage has already been done.

☄ First: MISCOMMUNICATION

Somehow, whether intentional or not, the Komai have once again hacked public systems and networks to brand those of the Moira as the ones behind these terroristic acts. They still use their own name, but the images are different, focusing on familiar faces wearing the ship’s uniforms and traveling to the Aerospace to return to the Moira. Not only that, there are short recordings of Link’s final words that mention a very recognizable name: Captain Thán. The Komai have redirected the blame to the Moira and its crew for their own means, and in response, any and all crew who are captured by authorities will immediately be detained and shipped out to unknown locations. The Captains send a message via MID and request everyone return to the ship to prevent this from happening. Yet, not all messages will be delivered depending on how far away they are.

With everyone’s safety hanging in the balance, the Captains have decided to take things into their own hands and find a way to lift the block on the Moira so they can leave Emiri’s orbit and avoid further repercussions regardless of whether or not any one of the crew wants to stay.

☄ Second: DECOY & DISTRACT

After learning that Benjamin Link, son of recently deceased Frederick Link, knows how to unlock the ship so they can leave, the captains ask for volunteers to act as decoys on a mission to the Aerospace in Harashan. Their job is to distract guards and Emiri citizens, leaving the path clear for Benjamin to get to the computers. The captains reiterate that they are to use nonfatal methods as they don’t want a repeat of the events on Caducus Primary. Without his help, the ship won’t be able to leave, making this mission critical and extremely time sensitive.

☄ Third: RESCUE

During the mission, Benjamin informs the crew that the Komai aren’t incorrect in their claims that Link’d Inc uses unforgivable means to obtain information in order to make their matches perfect. The children the crew dreamed about are just two of many—the offspring of Emirian citizens who had gone missing. It has long been suspected that Link’d Inc was involved in their disappearances, but only recently has the Komai done anything to shed light on these gruesome rumors. Benjamin, after successfully unlocking the ship, disables the security systems in St. Murtel, which will allow the children a chance to escape. They’ll need assistance in getting out of St. Murtel and to a pre-designated area in Avelle where a group of Komai and Emirians will be waiting for them.

But be careful. If anyone is recognized as part of the crew, they will be placed under arrest for treason and possibly never heard from again.

☄ Fourth: BREAKING OUT

Now that the computer systems in Harashan’s Aerospace have been used to release the Moira, the entire crew are being called back via MID for an expedient exit from Emiri. Crew will be asked to assist other Moirans in getting back to the ship as quickly as possible via transporters or other small crafts as leaving is their only option at this point. In the escape, Emiri launches an attack on the Moira in an attempt to stop them. The ship’s previously unused defense systems activate, and those assigned to those positions are required to man their posts. Perhaps even those who don’t have the clearance are needed. Either way, it’s time to leave.

☄ Fifth: REFUGEES

Now that the ship has finally escaped Emiri’s orbit, the crew will notice a group of stragglers in the main hall. During the crew’s quick exit, about fifty Emirians have taken refuge aboard the Moira, and the captains have agreed to take them to the closest planet so they may start again or live a life free of Link’d Inc “rule”. The captains ask the crew to help get them clothes and food for their short stay, no longer than a day at most, and to occupy them as best they can. Tell jokes, sing songs, bring up the kittens so that everyone can attempt to wind down after this series of unfortunate events. Light entertainment won’t be provided, but on request, some crew members may do just that.

( ooc; This plot is spread out over the first half of the month of February, and follows the order of the prompts listed above. Feel free to take as much time as you need to with your characters and use the info above for posts/logs at your discretion. For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[The helmet doesn't move, but the program's constant noise skips a beat. Almost suspicious. Rinzler doesn't have a lot of trust to spare, especially for users. Though considering how likely it might be to lie, he's not sure the order makes a difference.

Eventually, the program's hunched frame twitches in a slight shrug. The display of light turns off, and Rinzler steps closer, nonverbals offering no sign of threat (even if his own appraisal doesn't quite let up). Assuming Oren doesn't retreat, the enforcer will stop a pace or so away, turning to show the device on his wrist.

Orange-lit fingers come up, and slowly, Rinzler taps through the sequence of keys: first to activate it, then to call up a text display in holographic. The movements are reflexive at this point, and the masked stare stays on the user throughout. Is it following?]

[There's no retreat from Oren, and no sign of worry on his face. He merely watches intently, nodding at the first logical break in explanation.]

I don't very much understand how it works, but it simply requires pressing them like that?

[How can one even press images that look so see-through? It's fascinating, but he won't go into any intrigued rambles.]

I'm following. Go on, I'll stop you if I have questions.

[How is a complicated enough topic (especially with Rinzler) that the computer program opts to bypass that comment entirely. He nods instead, moving on to some of the minutia: customizing the display, adjusting size and alignment. Once the basics have been demonstrated, Rinzler returns to the actual text input, typing in more quickly:]

Additional functions available (communication, visual display).

[But he's not demonstrating those until he knows the user has the basics. ~~No accidental-dialing the network on his watch~~~

The mask tips towards Oren's MID. Your turn.]

[Amazing, he'd thought it was just an ugly bracelet, but instead he can do all of this? Once he's nodded to, Oren lifts his own wrist in his curiosity and follows the same order of tapping.

He may essentially be from medieval times, but he can follow instructions and understand the concepts well when they're shown to him. There are a few misclicks here and there, but he manages to correct them, resizing the displays to his liking and looking vaguely proud about it.]

Communication and display? Do you mean to say I could speak to people through this?

[Rinzler keeps an eye on the attempt, but the user's not doing so poorly as to require intervention. In the meantime, the program's scrolling through a smaller listing on his own device... and when Oren asks the question, an answer pops up on his own display.]

Yes.

[Welcome to the world of private texting. (From five feet away.) Next to the word is a series of numbers and a label: "Rinzler".]

Oh!

[The text is surprising. It's instant, isn't it? From such a distance, too.]

How far can these work? Let's see... [It takes a bit of messing around to figure out how to reply, but after a point, he gets the straightforward wording.]

hello. like this/

[Rinzler doesn't bother with a texted confirmation this time, simply nodding instead. From this range, Oren will be able to see the text show up on Rinzler's display too, and the ID ("Oren") that appears beside it. The other query is valid, though, and not one he can answer with nonverbals.]

Range limits: unknown. Operational across all tested distances.

[And you can bet Rinzler's tested it across some very long distances indeed. Especially since they gave him access to the transporters.]

Directory used to initiate private transmissions.

[He'll close his own text window for this, expanding the scrolling list where Oren can see it. Each entry has an ID number, a name, and a small image. Rinzler selects Oren's to reinitialize the text, then exits out again in demonstration.]

All, really? This whole... thing?

[Ship, he means. His briefing had been just that— brief. He mimics Rinzler's actions, taking note of his name as he maneuvers to the directory. It's there, as he's skimming through the faces that he recognizes a familiar one.

It gets a bit more focused expression from him, but he still doesn't comment.]

There are a fair number of us here, it seems.

[Thing could be 'ship' or 'planet', by the enforcer's estimation. Certainly the latter term had been the unfamiliar one for him. Either way, the answer's the same: Rinzler nods, watching without comment as the user explores. The sudden focus earns a glance to the side, trying to track which ID provoked it. This user knows someone, then?]

Import groups: increasing in size.

[Rinzler doesn't have precise data from before his own arrival, but he's combed the network archives enough to recognize the sudden jump. A side effect of the other admin's death? She had been the one in charge of the Ingress.

It's all speculation, though. Not wise, not warranted, and certainly not something to waste words expressing.]

[Rinzler can likely see that it's on the same line of the Nomo deck directory that Oren is on, but it'd probably take a little more time and looking into things to realize that it's Mattias that he recognizes.]

That doesn't sound like very good news to me. Is there anything else I should know about this... bracelet thing, then?

[Nomo deck. Rinzler saves the data to file. If it comes up again, he'll know that much more, but for now, it doesn't seem too relevant. The mask dips, affirming, and he switches his own display back to the text prompt.]

Other transmission forms available: video, audio.

[He returns to the directory and demonstrates how to select the options for a video call. If Oren accepts, Rinzler will appear on his display, noise coming from two directions now. The text that follows appears below the image.]

Public broadcast also possible.

[Video and audio recapture his interest. He starts at the sudden appearance of Rinzler both to his side and before him, peering around the image to try and get a grasp of how this is happening. There's no way he can, but he certainly is impressed.]

This is... Goddess, it really does feel like this is all some sort of dream. You're certain this isn't some sort of post death hallucination?

[The option's not far.]

Probability: low.

[Rinzler might not be sure how users glitch, but this definitely doesn't match his own parameters. (Which isn't to say he hasn't encountered his own share of errors here.)

The ticking rumble stays quiet, but its tempo picks up slightly with amusement. This user isn't the first he's encountered to claim a lack of familiarity with technology... but it's the first time Rinzler's seen it demonstrated so overtly. The mask cocks to one side, video image copying simultaneously.]

'Post death'?

Just a guess.

[He clarifies, and gestures back to the mysterious knife, still half buried in the soil.] As you can see, my situation before arriving here had been rather dire. My city was under attack, and I was in a scuffle. It's the last thing I recall, so I'm not sure what else to think, I'm afraid.

[Oh, so the user is following through? Count Rinzler... well. Mildly surprised. Mostly unimpressed. That's about as vague a summary as it could get.]

Won?

[If the stains on its weapon are any sign, it certainly didn't lose completely.]

I'd managed a stab, if that's what you mean.

[He shrugs his hands a bit.] I'm a prince. I may be trained in self defense, but combat is not my forte. We were on a roof, near the top of the city, and it was all I could do.

Then there was darkness, a dizzying sensation, and I came through that portal. There should have been more of a gap between the instances, don't you think? Or is that what death does? Erases it?

Memory erasure not guaranteed from derezz.

[In Rinzler's experience, it's usually much more deliberate. The enforcer's noise rises, just an edge harsher, before he shakes his head. The user could have been copied in from before its death. Or rerezzed after. Or simply duplicated completely, with an original still live and running. No way to tell.]

Insufficient data: import methods (Ingress).

Insufficient... That does give me more hope than I'd thought, at least.

[He looks back to the knife.] With all that's been happening here, I hardly wanted to be caught in the middle of it with a bloody knife. There would be misunderstandings.

[The enforcer's stare lasts a little longer this time, skepticism hanging in the almost-silence. This doesn't seem like a stupid user, and a weapon is worth more than any pretense at innocence—at least to those who know how to use it.

In the end, the helmet only angles a little to the side, text display dismissing as Rinzler walks over to the knife and tugs it free. The dirt's done most of the work already, but the remaining smears take only a couple swipes across the grass to clear completely. Rinzler inspects the reddish hue, ignoring the faint twist of (~~unease~~) distaste deep in his code. Users are so messy.

Then he turns, and throws the knife towards Oren: hard, fast... and hilt first. He's curious to see if it will make the catch, but even if Oren can't, the worst he stands to gain is bruises. Either way, weapon cleaned. Rinzler recommends against losing it.]

[He's not sure what he's expecting when Rinzler goes to inspect the knife, but it's certainly not that. In all of his words, the largest truth had been his background. He was a prince, trained for self-defense but no expert in handling much more than a knife. And even in that, all he had really mastered was stabbing with it. There was no difficult in that.

But a knife traveling at him full speed? He flinches, jumping back and half stumbling to try and get out of the way, but the motion doesn't carry him away. The hilt hits into his side as he half-turns, and he has to give it a few seconds to realize that he hasn't been wounded.

Bruised, certainly, but the knife had clattered to the ground, and now Oren was staring baffled between it and Rinzler.]

Are you mad? You could have killed me!

[Welp. That answers one question. The accusation only gets a skip of Rinzler's noise: something that would be a derisive snort from anyone who made a habit out of breathing.]

Edge: other direction.

[It's like an apology, except not at all. Still, if Rinzler wanted to kill the user, he'd do a much better job than that. The enforcer shifts with fluid ease, mask tipping from the user to its dropped blade. Is it really just going to leave it there?]

Need practice.

Luckily.

[He's not sure he believes it was thrown that way on purpose. With Rinzler looking at the knife again, though, Oren bends quickly to take it, slipping it under his sash so avoid any more incidents.]

I've had practice. There's only so much fighting I do, and I'd prefer to keep it minimal.

Luck: not a factor.

[Neither is modesty, in case Rinzler's overwhelming case of smug hasn't made that clear. As for not fighting... it was some kind of admin function, it had said?]

Subordinates present?

[He's still on edge, but it's true that Rinzler hadn't followed up with any sort of attack. He should have, after seeing his display of combat skills. If he wanted him dead, at least...

But Oren's still tense, still eyeing the thing carefully. Subordinates, though. Somehow, that word earns a very short laugh and a glance downwards. He rubs at his temple with one of his hands, thinking.]

No.

[Oren's observations will mark the same fluid ease in the program's motions. The program's armed, certainly: a pair of batons clipped at his sides, and the curve of a disk's edge visible over the hunched shoulders. But there are no obvious signs of hostility, in either bearing or reply.

Only a nod. Expected. And if the admin didn't have anyone it could order to protect it...]

Need practice.

( february intro log )

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