Who: Everyone
When: August 9 and onward
Where: An unexpected destination
What: The newcomers go on a trip and end up far from where they expected
Warnings: Potential violence. Please label your content!

NOTE: PLEASE READ THIS OOC POST FIRST.

When the time comes for the travelers to go on the off-world trip that will help restore Thisavrou, they are not alone. Others who have settled on the planets longer and come to call them home are also prepared to travel; through the Ingress and do their part. Yet when the newcomers step through, whether they stepped through the Ingress seconds or hours apart, they will find that they have arrived at the same time, and only newcomers are in sight.

What awaits them is not a land of plenty. The land is barren, and dark storms in the sky resemble those held at bay by the Ingress complex—but much, much closer. Those who traveled on the Moira may recognize the landscape; though they have come through at a different point from the crash, they are on the Midway Hub. And there is no portal back. They are trapped.

hitting the road

Though some have been here before, the Midway Hub is not as they remember it. The storms fill the sky, leaving it dark and ominous even when they are not sweeping across the landscape—but they have clearly done so in recent times, and often. While never a lush land, large patches of ground an acre or more wide looking nothing more than utterly dead; the thistle that naturally grows is brittle, black and unable to be consumed even with the usual preparations to make it edible, and here and there animal corpses are found twisted into unnatural poses, but seemingly uninjured. These places are particularly concentrated near the broken Ingresses litter the landscape. While Midway Hub as a whole may seem naturally arid, these dead spots leave no hope that anything can possibly live there again.

The travelers have two options: stay where they are, or move on. While it might seem that they've been tricked into coming here and been left abandoned, those with the technological ability to do so may detect a sign of hope: a familiar energy source, far in the distance. Although none of the Ingresses they pass will ever work again, the faint energy shows that one still-functioning Ingress lies far in the distance, days away.

Although technological scanning or impressive memory of the landscape indicates that they are not separated from their destination by one of the gates that divide the land, they are also far from the shelter of the facility at the center of the Hub. Any attempt to travel in a direction other than that of the energy signal will result in a strange disorientation after several hours, bringing individuals back to their original path as though they've gone in circles. Meanwhile, though travelers will feel the need to slake their hunger and thirst through any natural water sources they discover, wildlife they can hunt for food and any supplies they have on them, if they don't find sustenance, they'll find that they will never pass out or reach the point of starvation. Instead, they'll be left alive and awake but feeling utterly hollow.

storm front

At regular intervals, the energy storms above descend onto the land, bringing not rain but violent clashes of negative energy and thunder so loud that nothing can be heard above it. The passing of the storms leaves some strange effects. The ground is warped and rotted by their touch, even solid stone degrading to a spongy surface. The air is tepid and oddly charged. Prolonged contact with air or ground will not supply energy, however — it drains it from organic and synthetic life alike.

Those who remember their last trip to the Hub, or simply explore in the right direction, may come across the cave complexes with their glowing surfaces and streams. The light is dimmer now, a sickly green, but drinking from the streams will still restore the energy lost, for a time. This time, however, the lethargy that inevitably follows is much more severe, and the drinkers are left with a raw, empty feeling leeching in from the wasteland around.

Those who are exposed to the storms, either by finding themselves in very close proximity or even closely observing them for too long as they approach, may lose their sight, or hearing, even much of the ability to feel touch — whatever sense they used in observation. What lingers in its place is a numbness. A hunger. And as time passes, the time between storms decreases; what seemed like hours between the storms becomes scarcely one, and their intensity grows.

wild life

Sentient beings are not the only ones affected by the storms; these creatures, attracted to sound and able to track by scent, and these panthers, which once looked normal but have been twisted by the storms into more monstrous forms, are numerous enough that travelers must be constantly alert for their presence. Though natural predators, the threat the creatures represent is not itself natural. They are also more aggressive. Some strange instinct drives them, not a need for food. While the panthers themselves can be caught and their meat cooked, it has little taste, offering nutrition but not satisfaction.

old familiar places

Although it's difficult to track the passage of time without day-night cycles, after what seems like more than a week of the travelers' unexpected trip, the storms abruptly come rushing in at the group of travelers, as if they're herding the group to move faster toward their destination and the Ingress energy that awaits them. The true nature of that destination becomes clear when debris appears on the horizon; the energy comes from the wreckage of the Moira, the interstellar ship that crashed here months ago.

Despite the trauma of impact, large sections of the ship remain surprisingly intact, though few of them are properly vertically oriented. If travelers are able to make their way inside the damaged sections of the ship, they'll find familiar territory, if they are one of those who traveled on the Moira, as well as shelter—something that's increasingly necessary as the storms seem to center over the ship, leaving little hope for survival outside. Useful items may be scavenged from the ship if they are willing to explore, but no personal items of any kind remain.

Strangely, the deeper travelers go into the crashed ship, the less familiar their surroundings will seem, regardless of their orientation. The inward-leading paths into the ship become generic metal, and as with the travel on the surface of the planet, they may find themselves back where they started. And no matter how far they go or how hard they try, they will find themselves unable to make it to the Ingress chamber itself...for now.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What happened?

[Oh. His sight. Of course.]

Something strange with the storms, I'd guess. It's not unheard of. I should have been more careful if I wanted to be nosy. [Lavellan's used to magic, after all. Bizarre side effects are old hat for him.

He pats Venom's arm again and grins wryly before turning the question back on him.]

What happened? While we're trading stories.

[ It's amazing how blithe they all can be about strange status ailments in space, but Venom's been here for long enough that he's become similarly desensitized. He accepts the explanation because it's plausible (weirder things have happened), and glances down at where Lavellan's holding on to his bionic to buy himself time. ]

...The arm? [ He assumes, since that's where their current point of contact is. ] Lost it in an explosion. Same one that gave me this.

[ He taps his 'horn' to elaborate, before realizing that, duh, Lavellan can't see. Give him a second. ] ...The shrapnel in my skull.

Did you just point to your eyepatch? [It's a guess; Lavellan does remember that much about Venom's appearance. But it doesn't matter much, and he moves on without waiting for an answer.

Holding onto Venom's arm, he's stable enough that he can hold up his own left arm without losing his balance.]

You could say I lost mine in an explosion as well. Something we have in common. Wouldn't know it to look at me, would you?

[He doesn't really know why he's talking about this; it's not a topic he's fond of. But the chatter is distracting, in a way. And being cavalier makes it not so personal.]

[ People asking about physical oddities get Old after a while, but repetition makes recounting easier; Venom wonders if it's the same for Lavellan and his arm.

Behind them, the storm rages on. A particularly loud clap of negative energy makes the fine hairs on the nape of Venom's neck stand on end— staying here doesn't seem like a good idea. Time to maneuver. ]

Did that happen here, or in your homeworld?

[ Maybe asking is insensitive, but he's pretty sure that they both get tired of people tiptoeing around the issue. His bluntness is a measure of his earnesty, a testament to the fact that Venom's a shit liar unless he's obfuscating via omission. ]

Homeworld. [Lavellan certainly doesn't mind. He'd had plenty of people treat him like he was made of glass afterward, which was possibly worse than actually having to deal with missing an arm. It's even easier to be frank about it with someone who shares the experience.

He finds, suddenly, surprisingly, that he's in something resembling a good mood. It's half manic, he can recognize in a detached sort of way, but talking to Venom about something else makes the despair buzz less.]

It's a long story. The... simplest explanation is that it was diseased and needed to be amputated. Not quite as exciting as an explosion, I'll admit.

[...Well, it's a bit more exciting with all the details, but he's not kidding when he says it's a long story.]

[ A slow huff, and Venom starts taking their first small paces away from the ominous rumbling behind them. ]

I wouldn't say that. Wasn't awake long enough to tell you if the experience was exciting or not, on my part.

I don't recommend it.

[ Gallows humor: the greatest coping mechanism. He delivers it with his trademark dryness, the tail end of his syllables lilting with his exhale. ]

[Lavellan actually keeps pace without any protest. Amazing.]

I suppose there's no way to lose a limb that would be pleasant. Better to be conscious for it as little as possible. Still, I can't imagine something that violent would be high on the list.

[Magical amputation was pretty quick and smooth, comparatively. Small mercies.]

[ Venom is mindful of where they're walking, but finds it a little incredible at how nonchalant Lavellan seems to be about ostensibly losing his vision for an extended period of time. WHAT HORRORS HAVE YOU SEEN, GUY... ]

Shouldn't have been something I lived through, but here I am.

[ He almost laughs through those words, even if the humor is largely wry. ]

You sure you don't need me to carry you?

[It's just karmic justice, Venom, what's to complain about?

Lavellan stops short, though, the irritation on his face only barely masked by amusement.]

Am I holding you up? I can make my own way if you'd prefer. Plenty of other people to lean on.

[His tone is obviously at least trying to be humorous, but there's an edge to it, too. Because, really, carry him? Are you fucking kidding.]

[ His reply is breezy, matter-of-fact. ]

Half the missions I ran back home necessitated me carrying people on my back.

[ It's not a novelty where he's from: nothing to be ashamed of, either. ]

It's practical.

I'm sure. [Suddenly his tone is less than polite, and he pushes away from Venom with no small amount of resentment.]

But it's my eyes that don't work, not my legs.

[ Touchy. Venom's familiar with the reaction, though— his second-in-command's missing an arm and a leg, and he still shoves at anyone who tries to help him without solicitation.

So he has the audacity to raise a brow and look unfazed, Venom Snake you asshole (good thing Lavellan can't see) (rude). ]

You'd be surprised. I was tripping all over myself when I lost one eye.

[ A lie by omission— he was tripping all over himself because he was just out of a 9-year coma, but the point still stands. He was a fucking mess. ] Needed all the help I could get.

I doubt you needed to be carried.

[He can't be doing this. He needs to shove it back down. Ahab is just trying to be helpful. Don't take it out on him.

He manages to school his expression into something resembling neutrality.]

I understand you're trying to help, and I appreciate the thought, but it's not... it's not necessary.

[He's still capable, damn it.]

August Event Log: Part I

hitting the road

storm front

wild life

old familiar places

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