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

At this point, I think that's the least of our problems.

[This coming from the Frenchman beside him, looking around as the Moira has left all of them wondering if their old ship would be their new shelter until they possibly could get things figured out. Usually he'd be in a better mood, but he's exhausted, feeling hollow and wanting to lie down and sleep for what feels like years.]

But you're right- this isn't what I last remember of her, or what she was like. [He shrugs.] Do you think it's the Midway Hub itself?

[ The fatigue isn't doing any favors for Venom's sense of cognition; he can usually keep it together even on a bad day, but there are too many things going on that make him doubt what he's seeing. It manifests in a vague sense of paranoia, one that shows in just the barest guard that he puts up when Arno approaches.

He has to hope that he's not talking to himself (he's done it before). ]

...Not sure. Hard to say if any of this is even real. [ A low exhale. ] —This is feeling more like someone's way of breaking us mentally.

[Arno can't blame anyone for being on edge at this point. They're all struggling to maintain sanity and a sense of themselves, and almost any sound he doesn't see coming from someone makes him nearly jump out of his skin in sheer paranoia. If this were the revolution, he's sure he would be a dead man by now.

Still, he shakes his head and stifles a sour laugh.]

I wouldn't honestly doubt it right now- the Savrii haven't exactly been in my list of "trustworthy and reliable" for a while. [He sighs.] Here's to hoping we can find decent shelter while we wait it out.

[ Cynical optimism is the only tool they have available at this point. It's all bark and no bite (given that their tormentors are, what, hundreds of miles away? thousands?), but they have to cling to something, right.

It all feels a little hollow, though. Like yelling at a hurricane. ]

It would help if we knew what we were waiting for. [ He echoes that bitter half-sigh, mouth twisting into a vague grimace. ] Doesn't sit well with me, that we're waiting for our tormentors to save us again.

Edited 2017-08-22 02:05 (UTC)

[Cynical optimism is about right. There's frustration and an endless list of things Arno can think of doing and telling to the Savrii, but that's completely moot when they're not even within reach right now.]

I'd say it was "for the other shoe to drop," but that doesn't quite bring us to a pretty picture. [It's an honest one, though. He snorts.] I don't even think we're going going to be saved after what happened with the shadows and all that.

[ The only option is murder at this point, let's be real................. espionage and murder, sorry 'bout it, Savrii.

Venom leans against the nearest flat surface, single eye closing for a split second. ]

Not exactly our fault that they couldn't run a tight ship. [ It's not like any of them summoned the Shadows or caused any of this ruckus to happen, anyway— being scapegoated Sucks. ] ...You know of anything that could've soured the Savrii's mood?

[ Venom killed a couple of guys, which theoretically could've been the straw that broke the camel's back, but. He would also like to know if anything Spectacularly Catastrophic happened that he wasn't informed of. ]

[Murder sounds great at this point, and Arno is actually good at murder. :|b

Arno just shakes his head, aggravated.]

Beyond the Ingress being tampered with before that? None. I knew they didn't really like us after we arrived- everything seemed to go wrong with us on board. As if we carried the bad luck of the Moira with us.

[He shrugs, obviously lost as Venom is.]

It could be that, or it could be something even we don't know of.

[ That's... well. He's inclined to sigh, and the sound escapes him as a short whistle through his teeth. Mildly aggravated. ]

Mm. Or they were just bored.

[ Starting conflict just to fill in the lulls of history? It's not exactly preposterous or unheard of. Humans (and aliens, presumably) are as fickle as they are prone to boredom. ]

I've never been too good at navigating the political end of things. [ He waves a hand, to punctuate his point. ] Any good at diplomacy, on your end?

[At the mention of being bored, Arno shrugs. Usually, he'd argue against it, but he's been through this for almost six years now- both at home, the Drabwurld, and now with Thisavrou.]

I don't want to think that's the case. [His tone indicates that he's not throwing the idea out, though.

At the mention of diplomacy, he chokes back a chuckle.]

You're talking to a courier and a fencer, monsieur. The revolution requires many diplomats, but I'm not any good at that sort of thing.

[ Ah, so that's what Arno does— fence. Venom's not sure why that's the thing that's making him quirk his lips up in the faintest outline of a smile, but there it is. ]

Never felt compelled to look at what it is that you were couriering?

[ He'd think that couriers had all the inside scoops; he could be wrong. ]

[He does more than that, but Venom doesn't quite need to know now. Maybe in the future if things calm down and he can feel a little more secure with trust.]

Oh, I always do. [He can't help but laugh.] I never said I wasn't nosy.

[Couriers are still the best method of giving and receiving messages, not to mention anything else they may hear along the way. Arno's gotten used to having a handful under his watch to make sure his network stays secure- until now, at least. As far as the Drabwurld and back home? It's anyone's guess.]

August Event Log: Part I

hitting the road

storm front

wild life

old familiar places

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