| Without warning, the silvery light that appeared to bring new people from other worlds and old items from home appears once more, and this time it lingers, forming portals as tall as an average human near each of the three Ingress shrines. The location does not appear to be a coincidence; this time, the portals are translucent, revealing the destination on the other side. Instead of taking Avagi's residents to the future, it will take them to another world.
If they step through the portal, travelers will find something far different from where they've been living this last month: Kaittos, a peaceful world containing one large land mass and a scattering of lived-on islands across a clear blue ocean. On the mainland, a large city-state occupies the central region and southern coast and resembles what some travelers from some versions of Earth might know of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Bustling and lively, the city is clean and well provided-for due to the temperate climate and the bountiful natural resources found on its northern side; orchards, farms and forests extend into the distance, butting up against a small mountain range. The technology level is low compared to Avagi, with carriages and candles in place rather than cars and electric lights, but the craftsmen of the world have managed some very impressive mechanical feats.
Kaittans, the local residents of the world appear somewhat humanoid, but the bipedal race has hooves rather than feet, silvery skin and three eyes with vertical pupils. Although there is no sign of any other sentient species in the world, the locals are nonetheless excited to meet their guests, rather than suspicious or afraid; for some reason, they are not surprised that aliens exist, merely that they are here.
In the weeks to come, the stabilized portals will provide a respite from the more confined lifestyle aboard Avagi. Travelers are warmly welcomed and encouraged to explore the land. Some things they'll find include...
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With all their material needs taken care of, the civilization on Kaittos has come to highly value cultivation of the mind. The city itself is full of what can only be generalized as culture. Theaters, art galleries and sizable libraries can be found on every tier, but what they offer is not contained by their walls. Street musicians appear on every other corner, artists are easily found sketching at beautiful viewpoints or interested passersby, and people are as likely to find themselves pulled in to participate in a scene or improvisational performance as they are to witness one. Public debate and rhetoric are also valued, with credit given for style and clarity as much as substance. At the center of the city, a large conservatory teaches lessons in many fields to anyone who cares to study.
This love of culture is so encompassing that visitors who wish to acquire items or resources will find that culture is also the main form of currency. To get something, they will have to give something. Those with skills that fall into traditional arts and culture could offer a piece of art, a music lesson or participation in a debate with other philosophical scholars, perhaps. But visitors will also find that the locals have a deep hunger for information and wish to learn about other worlds; if they can offer nothing else, sitting down with a scholar to record a tale of folklore or an adventure from their own. Lessons in whatever skills they possess are likely to be eagerly sought after, although the aptitude to learn them may not be there.
For those who wish to gain resources or make purchases, a bartering economy does exist to a degree, but it is difficult to break into, as there is little that the locals would truly need from their visitors. The exchange of knowledge is much more prized. Keep in mind, though, that while the Kaittans are not ungenerous, they have an eye for value—the more precious something is, the more travelers will have to offer to earn it, and individuals have their preferences. What might be just the thing desired by one could be pooh-poohed by another.
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While many on Kaittos see food as the fuel that keeps their bodies going so they may better cultivate their minds, others see cooking itself as an art. This is especially prevalent in this section of the city, located deep in the heart of the city, where chefs toil over new recipes and experiment with new ingredients, serving meals free of charge—unless you consider sitting through a lengthy survey afterwards to be a payment, of course.
Although some meals are unpalatable or even dangerous to human bodies, most can be enjoyably consumed. However, around one in five chefs make extensive use of a particular herb that is incredibly delicious—and somewhat addicting. Those who begin to develop a dependency will visit again and again, and the more they consume, the more they may not want to leave at all...
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Spoken of in hushed voices, this section of woods is regarded with great caution. A space of around ten acres is home to many natural springs that form natural pools between copses of trees, many of which hang dropping branches with deep blue leaves over the surface of the water. If asked, the locals will say that this place is where some very old Kaittans—which are an extremely long-lived species—who have decided they've studied everything available in the world and mastered every skill they can, go to "renew" themselves. They prefer to speak of it in vague terms, as specific discussion of this choice is seen as something of a faux pas. If greatly pressed, it is possible to learn the details ahead of time—but difficult.
The truth is that the water of the springs, when mixed with a chemical secreted by the fallen blue leaves, represses memories of those who drink it. Not to the point of complete amnesia; a sip might do away with the recollection of a particular book that was enjoyed, while multiple glasses might hide the memory of a longer period of time. However, there is no control over what is forgotten, or how much is too much. The Kaittans who grow too frustrated with what they view as stagnancy drink to forget so they may have the joy of learning all over again, but the lack of control makes it a risky choice—and some continue to return to drink after they otherwise would have, as they have forgotten what they wanted to forget.
(Of note to those of the psychic persuasion: memories affected by the spring water are not utterly obliterated, but merely deeply sublimated. It is possible to retrieve them, but it would be a challenge, especially if the placement of the memory gaps are not obvious.) |
| While Kaittos’ architecture and culture includes plenty to admire, a few points of interest stand both literally and figuratively above the rest. Three large pyramids tower over the landscape, shining the brilliant metallic blue of a local ore. Over the coming weeks, these structures will be adorned with temporary murals and hangings—apparently, a yearly celebration is approaching.
What kind of celebration? The kind, fortunately (?), that visitors are welcome to join in! November 23 marks the anniversary of what they call the Great Awakening: a visit by a powerful spirit that opened their people's awareness to worlds and cultures outside their own. For the next few weeks, the temples offer welcome to anyone who wishes to participate in their trials. On the day of the Awakening, all who succeed will experience a remnant of the spirit's gift. While descriptions of the process vary, all center around heightened awareness: of each other, and of worlds and places far beyond their shores. Those who decide to make this attempt may choose which temple—and which trial—they would face.
Trial of Life
A test for warriors and scouts, this trial is not recommended to the casual. On entering the temple, participants will find themselves in a maze of obstacles and passages, struggling for survival against dangers both mobile and environmental. To succeed, they must pass inside with no more resources or weapons than can be carried in two hands, and survive for a period of five days. The attackers and hazards within the space are phantasms generated by the temple: solid enough to harm or kill, but prone to re-appearing even once a region should be cleared.
Needless to say, extensive warnings will be given to those expressing interest in the trial. Most who attempt do so in groups, and teamwork among participants is readily encouraged. Those who need to leave early are welcome to do so, but fleeing does count as a failure.
Trial of Communion
The inside of this temple is divided up into a series of open booths. Participants are assigned a station, and will be approached by members of the local population with various disputes that require arbitration. The purpose of the trial is twofold: to assist others with their problems, and to test those making the attempt—in patience, debate, and their skill at resolving conflict through the use of words.
No authority is granted to those taking this test. None of those who come before them are obliged to listen. The participants will be presented with conflicts that have been saved up through the year, and required to work out a solution. This can include anything from property disputes to marriage arguments to literal children's squabbles. Breaks are allowed for food and basic rest, but otherwise, those taking the trial will need to spend five days in continual discourse for the sake of others. Those who give up on any problems brought before them or resort to violence in solving them are considered to have failed the trial.
Trial of Healing
The third temple presents no dangers, whether to one's life or to one's sanity. Instead, it serves as a medical center. Those stepping inside will experience a strange peacefulness and sense of comfort—one the full-time staff confirm has helped many patients to recover. While this temple is open throughout the year, the weeks preceding the Awakening are nonetheless a time of gathering: when healers of all disciplines will come together to assist those in need.
While doctors or healers are welcome to share information with their peers, no special skill or training is required to attempt this trial. Instead, participants are asked to spend a period of ten days doing whatever work is required to assist the sick. While most of the ailments brought to the temple are longer-term in nature, it also functions as a triage center for those harmed in the Temple of Life. |
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thisavrou_log2017-11-09 08:50 pm
3/3
You wanna talk or something? [Another sidestep. The exhaustion inhibiting his magic was also inhibiting his movements. He couldn't dodge forever.] Work something out?
no subject
[They owe him nothing. Truly. They do not care if he lives or dies, because his impact on their existence ought to be so negligible as to be nonexistent. Unfortunately, such is not the case. Not when they know for a fact that Frisk, at least, would cry if something were to happen to him.]
[They always did have no standards.]
[So It is that when the specter makes its next pass, someone else is there to sink a scarlet blade into the rank flesh of its back. Assuming it can rally be called “flesh”.]
I suggest you move. Now.
[They, uh. Don’t specify who they’re talking to in that moment.]
no subject
In this moment, Sans feels...
What does he feel?
This figure isn't anyone. The moment they open their mouth, offering their halting instructions, Sans knows precisely who it was he was meeting. It wasn't the one he intended to run across -- they had others watching for them, ones that stood a chance of penetrating the surprisingly thick armor their locket provided -- and yet it was the one fate had unfurled for him.
Then again, fate wasn't exactly a friend of his these days.]
Kid! [It's not a question, more an aggravated warning -- something that might be followed up with I've got this if it weren't for the fact that he so clearly, blatantly did not. As such, the warning dies between his teeth, and Sans takes the only path apparent to him: following instructions.
With a quick scrabble, Sans slides deeper into the alcove, gathering his energy and magic. The child was something to watch -- wild and uncoordinated in their movements -- overwhelming their lack of power with sheer overwhelming ferocity.
... It was something they had in common, at the end of the day.
Summoning what little magic Sans had to expend, a large skull slowly takes shape below the phantasm's head. Its muzzle is pressed flush against the underside of the figmant's jaw, magic gathering after a beat of pause.]
Watch yourself.
[3... 2... 1...]
no subject
[Kid.]
[He calls them]
[They have no time to answer that in earnest - not with anything more than bared teeth and a silent snarl as the red of that blade rips itself forcibly from the phantasm's back with a horrible wrench. They wheel back, nearly overbalancing with the viciousness of the motion.]
[The gaping skull with its unfurling keratin folds has a spark deep in its sockets that they can recall; the charging hum of energy building to an explosive, percussive, streamlined burst, white-hot, vomited from its toothy, open maw. Immediately, they're arcing wide, scrambling away from the thing. Once laid in place, it's easy to dodge. But if you let it touch you - ]
[Don't let it touch you.]
[Their voice pitches sharply upward, a mere instant before they anticipate that cacophonic blaze.]
If you die, Sans, Frisk will cry - and I will be very upset.
no subject
It's not a sight Sans relishes. Stepping free from his position against the outcropping, he scans the area for Chara with narrowed sockets and a prickle of anxiety dancing down each individual vertebrae.]
--make you upset.
[Whatever came before that was swallowed by the blaster's jaws, vanished right along with it.]
no subject
[It's cold, sarcastic, and utterly bereft of even their typical morbid humor. The creature wisps away into nothing, like dust to dust, but their grip on the Knife remains unbroken. The blade trails its strange, scarlet motes of flickering light, the white crescents gleaming on the worked steel as though a sheen of dust has been mantled over the blade.]
[There's another pad of footsteps, another shape bereft of detail but for the humanoid bulk to its tread.]
[And it brought friends.]
[There's only a split second, a moment where their eyes shutter and their expression twists from its detached anger to the bright flare that signals an encounter, hook-edged and nauseatingly scarlet.]
[They flip the Knife in their hands, reverse-gripping it for the most possible leverage, and darts forward without preamble, without instruction or warning.]
no subject
[It's the same shuffle of heavy feet that sends Sans' skull jerking upwards, eyelights hazily focused at the lumbering figures in the distance. Chara saw them first, a fact informed purely by the fact that they were already lunging. There was little light penetrating through the temple -- the occasional torch, a distant campfire -- and yet every beam seemed to catch along the child's blade.
They were quick.
Unfocused, stumbling, overbalanced.
But quick.]
Chara!
[He shouts, or at least attempts to. The low rumble of his voice is muted by exhaustion, seasoned with mounting frustration. He's not sure what he was expecting. The kid was very... determined, weren't they.]
There's too many, let's get outta here.
no subject
[That's the thing about the Real Knife. It has 99 ATK. It cuts through most things like butter - through skin, through flesh, through b o n e, through plaster and metal and armor and muscle, all as though it were nothing more than paper. Whatever these things possess that passes for flesh or skin or - ]
[Let's get outta here.]
Correct me if I'm wrong - [The cadence of their speech is disrupted by the sharp swing of an arm that cuts through the air like a razor blade drawn through grass, swift and hissing and bereft of resistance and catching their hair by a painful fistful.]
[For a rigid, uncompromising second, they freeze and they freeze and they can't move like the way they carried them dragging down the hall while they clawed at their scalp and screamed - ]
[Quick as a snake, the Knife darts out and slashes their hair through, leaving the being clutching a hank of patchy brown.]
[And Chara snarls:]
You seemed rather unable to get outta here, last I checked.
no subject
It generates a strange flutter at the back of his breastbone, watching them dangle like that. He stands motionless, staring, until Chara's words slice through the dull throb of his own ineffectiveness.]
There's something to be said for hitting the pavement. [He manages, finally, stepping forward. It comes with a few scattershot bones, rising up from nothing and darting towards the head of an advancing phantom. Momentum carried the sword towards Chara even as the phantom stopped in its tracks, when another bone jut abruptly from the ground in clumsy parry.] At least fall back a bit, you're right--
[Another bone juts suddenly from the ground, this interrupting the swing of a chain whip. Chara might've had plenty of determination, but to say their self-preservation was lacking would be an understatement.]
You think Frisk's gonna cry if I die, Chara? The honor's not just mine, pal.
no subject
[It isn't aiming for them. It isn't aiming for them.]
[A static hitch of breath. They're losing precious seconds. They're wasting precious seconds, letting their mind wander and wither and dwell in places unseen and irrelevant.]
[Fortunately, they've more than one knife. They draw a second.]
You plan on trying to run from them, sir? Are you even capable of moving faster than your average snail?"