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

[A profound lack of patience with self-pity is what carries them through. It must be, because the response snaps out with a firm sense of immediacy:]

One man alone?

Perhaps you didn't help, but you weren't the only one. All any of us have ever done is cause them endless trouble. I doubt you can take all the credit for that.

[Lavellan scoffs, unfazed.]

True, probably not all the credit. But I don't think very many other people caused quite as much damage. Maybe if all they'd had to deal with were petty annoyances, we'd still be there.

[~~world's smallest violin playing intensifies~~]

I'm sure the massive amounts of property damage and death don't hold a candle to breaking a piece of technology that was already faulty to begin with.

[ha ha oops did they show their hand]

[Backpedal. Now.]

But maybe that's just me.

[Lavellan pauses, his eyes narrowing at nothing.

He'd expected C.T. to be at least a little surprised at the revelation. But they're acting like they not only already knew, but had already formed an opinion on the matter.

There's something... an itch at the back of his mind. A connection he's not making.]

You seem to know a lot about this already.

Unlike you, I'm not blind. Anyone with a pair of eyes and common sense could see this was coming a mile away.

[They've misstepped. They've absolutely misstepped, and if they don't play their cards carefully it will be all the worse for them - and for him, too, once he registers what they've done. Look at what you've done.]

If you already knew what was going on, certainly.

[His face twitches slightly as he thinks, the only sign he's even suspecting anything. There's a slight dizziness at the edges of his mind, the now-familiar sign that something is wrong, that reality is not how he is perceiving it. That he's thinking in a lie. But the pieces won't fit, he can't make the right picture. Why does this keep happening?

He holds his forehead, his brow furrowed, as if in pain.]

Have we met...?

No.

[That's a lie, but it's an easy one. Easier still, when issued via a computerized voice that does not belong to them, when there is no squinting or reading into the implacable (implacable) lines of their expression. He cannot see them. Remember that.]

[Remember that.]

We all saw it coming.

[Everyone except him. But fine. Fine. His own uselessness isn't news. His head lolls slightly as the stops trying to make it all fit, just accepts what C.T. tells him instead. All he can do anymore is trust that what other people tell him is true.]

Oh. Sorry. I thought...

[He doesn't know what he thought.]

Whatever.

[There's something mundanely, morbidly hilarious in hearing that dismissive word rattled out through that mechanized, impassive tone. A good thing, then, that their laughter could not shrill across his ears and give them away.]

[A good thing.]

Who do you know around here? I'll look for them.

[This again? Why bother? He's a waste of energy. C.T. doesn't even seem to like him much.]

Nobody. [He smiles wryly at nothing.] You can just leave me here if you'd rather. I can find my way back later.

[That's a lie.]

[I'm not leaving you alone.]
[They regard their latest line of text before issuing it - and delete it, key by key, until the input is blank once more. Word it correctly. Word things the way C.T. would.]

[Whoever...that is, at this point.]

You're blind. Are you sure?

I'm sure.

[He needs to stop for a while. Just... stop. Shake the buzzing from his ears.

Someone will come find him if they're really intent on it.]

Thank you for all your help.

[...will he know?]

[Can he sense them? See them? A liar, the way Rinzler was, ready to yank the wool over their eyes and laugh at how easily he fooled them? A moment, and they regard the TAB in their hands. Punch out the message, short and flat.]

O.K.

[Hand it back.]

[Footsteps tap quietly away.]

[The child lingers at the periphery of the cave's edge, silent.]

August Event Log: Part I

hitting the road

storm front

wild life

old familiar places

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