I
N
T
R
O
L
O
G
|
by the inquest
"Arguments on their nature are refuted by those who return to shore, wide-eyed with tales of their savagery."
All Moirans are woken to the sounds of the ship coming to a rather grating halt some time in the early morning cycle. It’s no faster or slower than any other stop, but it is unexpected as the captains didn’t mention an upcoming disembarkment. Shortly after, a message is sent to every MID:Navigation has informed us that we’re approaching bad traveling conditions: an overactive star. Instead of stopping on Liant El, we’ll be docking here on Ceta. Please exercise caution while gathering supplies and during excursions. Follow their safety guidelines. If the chance allows, we’ll also be signing new crew on the planet. Please greet them first and show them to the ship. Thank you. 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.
For those few who come through Ceta's Ingress, there will be crew of the Moira there to greet you. They tell you of the Ingress, how it is broken, even on this planet, and that the ship is headed back to the origin of this technology. This planet’s Ingress is set precariously atop a floating rock formation, the only way from one area to the next is on small air-propelled boats. Crew members will guide everyone back to the Moira and take them to the Medbay; contracts will be signed posthaste.
WELCOME TO CETA
At first glance, Ceta seems mostly inhabitable, and that's because it is. The atmosphere around the planet is surprisingly thick in most places, sometimes thin in others, and without some way to filter the air, it is mostly unbreathable; it's a giant gas planet, its core made of various molten metals and the atmosphere a mix of oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrous. Ceta's gravity is also uneven, meaning that some areas will have stronger focal points than others. The terrain, when it is visible, appears rather rocky—hardly the best conditions for life and stable living. What's more unusual, however, is that despite this fact, there is, indeed, a small populace "living" among the mist and clouds, but it's clear they do not live here year-round. It's hunting season, and they are there for the bounty.
These visitors have built small platforms that are hooked together by ropes and swinging bridges, which they call "temporaries". Unstable buildings are rare, dangerous, and spread out over these temporaries to prevent damage or accidents. The temporaries float along, swaying and shifting with the planet’s atmosphere, and posted at every point of entry and all open surfaces are a particular set of rules that everyone must abide by. They are written in dark ink and large block letters so that all passing by will stop and read them:
NO FIRE. Flammables, ignition sources, matches, lighters, and anything that creates a spark is prohibited. The atmosphere has higher levels of hydrogen, and the smallest spark will create a problem.
AIR BREATHABILITY. Monitor your vitals. Wear masks or re-breathers if needed.
WATCH THE EDGE. All walkways are the only thing from you and falling. Be cautious and watch your step. These signs should be given their due attention. The edge is just that: the end of where it is safe to walk. If a wooden plank gives way beneath your feet, you will plummet through hundred of miles of atmosphere before hitting the planet’s thin surface. The captains reiterate that crew should be careful and stick to the main temporaries, gather supplies, visit at their leisure, and then go back to the ship.
☄ IT'S A BIRD! IT'S A PLANE!The organisms that have evolved on this planet are unintelligent—a fact that is told to you by the other visitors. As there is no solid materials or ways for them to interact with their environments, these giants float along within the atmosphere, though it appears that they are flying when they are merely navigating through. They travel in groups of three or more and sometimes come close to the outskirts of the temporaries. Because there is an invisible filtration dome around the temporaries, this allows the creatures to pass through without harm and return again into the mist as they please. They are difficult to see at night and are rather skittish in the presence of sudden light.
☄ @ THE MUSEUM Every evening when work is done, artificial light sources illuminate the streets of the temporaries. There is one bar, if you can actually call it that, but the main attraction is a museum. The support structure appears to be made out of the skeletal system of the giants that "swim" and live on Ceta, and though the outside seems rather unassuming, the inside is not for the faint of heart. As it's considered informative, there are displays of the internal structures and functions of the very creatures that seem harmless and as unintelligent as the visitors claim. There are sections of the museum dedicated to their anatomy and what makes them so valuable: inside their air sacs, which is what gives the illusion to flying through the atmosphere, is a mineral that, when harvested, attunes and sharpens the senses so that brain capacity and function excel over one-hundred percent efficiency. Likewise, aside from these informative areas, there is also a history of how and when the visitors began to hunt them for this valuable, unnamed resource.
☄ HARVEST SEASON Are you looking for work? Or perhaps you're bored with your duties aboard the Moira and prefer to see just what it is these visitors do during the day? Hunters will often pay for menial labor to help with the killing and retrieval of the giants of Ceta. It is by day, not by hour, and once aboard one of the many ships, you will be put to work handling equipment or being on the lookout for "signs" of the creatures. Once they've been spotted, the real work isn't in capturing them or even trying to subdue them—though they give a good fight. It's in the harvest, done below deck once they have been safely brought into the ship's cargo areas by the tethers, that can get quite gruesome. As a defense mechanism, cutting into the skin creates a rather noxious emission that can cause disorientation, hallucinations, or unconsciousness. Worst case scenarios can often result in death.
☄ WORD LIMITS As things are beginning to wind up (or down), something seems to have gotten into the MID systems and caused a malfunction. On the morning of 03.13, it suddenly becomes clear that communicating with others who are not from the same universe or similar timelines seems very difficult. Understanding each other becomes rather hopeless as the day continues, and these repercussions can be felt across the entire ship. The Captains send out another MID message that appears as a jumble of unusual letters and symbols. However, there is one word that can be read by everyone and (hopefully) understood: RATCHET. Figuring out this problem shouldn't take long if everyone can leap the language barriers and work together.
( ooc; All New Arrivals: you have the choice of coming through the Moira's Ingress OR Ceta's Ingress. For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )
|
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-03-01 02:40 pm
no subject
The same couldn't be said for the person-shaped lump Sans glimpsed through the mist.
"Uh..." He moved slowly, more out of caution than real fear. There was talk of hunters around these parts, after all. "Yo? You okay?"
no subject
It was a good thing Sans found her now, before more time had passed.
no subject
Rosethorn. Papyrus's friend -- a dear friend, if his phone was anything to go by. The woman who protected him from Chara and saved his life. They'd never spoken, but Sans knew who she was without question.
And here she was, dying? Dead? No, not dead, not yet, but it wasn't going to stay that way for long.
"Hey, hey." He urges, sinking down by her side with a quick shake. "Rosey, can you get up?"
no subject
There's no sharp retort, no reassurance, nothing.
no subject
Using magic is something monsters do every day for a million little things. It's as natural as breathing -- or would be, if Sans had cause to do so. Using it on other people? He had some bad luck with that recently.
Too bad he didn't have a choice, not now, not with the mounting realization that he needed to get Rosethorn back to the ship now.
"This is gonna feel kinda weird, just a heads up." Sans held out a hand, a blue glow surrounding his hand. If Rosethorn was capable of feeling it, she might note a newfound heaviness to her body. Raising his hand slightly, she elevated off the ground.
Another few moments and the misty surface of the planet melted away to the clean white Moira walls. Rosethorn still floated alongside him, kept in place by Sans' steady hand as he walked down the corridor.
"You still with me?"
no subject
She was. Normally, weak coughs and clutching at her chest probably wouldn't be much reassurance, but they were better than unresponsiveness was. Rosethorn woke up half-panicked, calming a little when she recognized the familiar walls of the Moira. And then she saw Sans. She hadn't properly met Papyrus' brother. She'd voted on his fate when he killed Chara, gone to find Papyrus after Chara returned the favor. And now he was floating her in midair, presumably with magic, though she couldn't summon up enough focus through the pain to see if she might be able to sense monster magic.
For a minute, she just struggled to breathe, not bothering to answer aloud. Finally, she forced out between soft coughs and wheezes, "Need medicine. Med bay or my room." She had another dose of her usual breathing medicine with her, but the air on Ceta was probably polluted as well as thin. She wanted something to force it out of her lungs, similar to what she'd take after something like smoke inhalation.
She'd thank Sans, but not until words weren't quite such a struggle to get out.
no subject
Her room it is.
Another flash of magical energy and the two of them were in front of Rosethorn's door. Sans made it a point to keep an eye on those in Papyrus' life. That included room numbers.
A third flash and they were inside. Sans took the opportunity to set Rosethorn on her bed, trying to collect his energy. Between all the warping and keeping Rosethorn's soul blue, he was already getting tired.
"I'll grab you what you need, where is it?"
no subject
She pointed to the foot of her bed, where a travel pack containing her mage kit was waiting. Hoarsely, she told him, "And hot water."
Once she had the pack, she pulled out a couple jars of tea, pouring some of one into the cup on her bedside table with shaking hands. She would have more words once she'd coughed up anything lingering in her lungs, and then soothed away some of the irritation. Fortunately, she was well equipped to take care of that, even without the attention of the doctors in the med bay.
no subject
Unfortunately, that means the old fashion way. Luckily for Rosethorn, Sans is adept enough in the kitchen to know how to boil water. It takes him a moment to blip out and blip back, but when he does it's with a steaming hot kettle and a few cups.
"You know what you're doing?" Sans asks, second guessing his choice to take Rosethorn here instead of where the trained professionals were. "I can get you back to the medbay if you're havin' trouble."
no subject
Between her lungs and Lark's asthma, she'd had plenty of practice treating breathing trouble, regardless of whether it was her actual specialty.
Rosethorn wasn't going to be doing any more talking for a few minutes. She prepared both cups of tea before looking at the first one apprehensively. "Don't worry," she told Sans, drinking it down and pressing a handkerchief to her mouth.
Then the coughing started. Any stray toxins that had lodged in her lungs weren't staying there. She had clearly been prepared for this, between the handkerchief and the warning to Sans. When she finally stopped, Rosethorn gasped for breath again before reaching for the other cup of tea. The results of this one were much less alarming, and she visibly relaxed, just breathing in the steam off of it rather than trying to drink the tea right away. She eventually took a couple sips and leaned back against the pillows in relief.
no subject
"Uh, good to know." He finally manages, after being cut off several times by her hacking cough. "Better?"
no subject
Then she finally gets around to what she's owed him for awhile. Rosethorn is acutely aware of the fact that Sans just saved her life. Voice still weaker than she'd like, she says slowly, "Thank you. My lungs have been weak for the past few years, and I didn't realize what the air on this planet would be like. The medicine I carry with me wasn't enough."
Unnecessarily, she introduces herself, "I'm Rosethorn," realizing only after the fact that he must know who she is if he knew which room to bring her to.
no subject
With a quirk of his smile, Sans shrugs with a wink. "I know there's not much family resemblance."
no subject
And then she continues, "I've heard a bit about you too."
From 'don't tell my brother' at their first meeting to all the nervous chatter just after Sans died... it isn't just his trial that she's basing her opinion of Sans on. And now she has to be grateful for his help. "I'm sure you've only heard the good things. I'm not sure Papyrus could say anything bad about someone if he tried. The closest he's come to criticism of anyone in my hearing is is 'lazybones.'" Even that was as affectionate as exasperated.
ignore my errant apostrophes....!
Briefly, oh so briefly, Sans' left eye flashed blue. It might be a little unsettling, if it wasn't gone so quickly.
"And I know you're kind to him. That means a lot to me. Thanks."
After all, if she wasn't, she'd still be out there on the planet. Sans didn't put effort in for just anyone, after all.
"Feeling any better?"
no subject
Maybe calling him out on that is no kind of thanks for a rescue, but 'kind' has never been people's first descriptor of Rosethorn. Papyrus brings it out of her, same as small animals or the sick or injured do. He's innocent in a way that very few people are, and she would feel instinctively guilty if she did him any harm.
"Much better, thank you." Her lungs are still protesting every breath with stabs of pain, but they're working. For now, that's all she'll ask.
no subject
"We've all got our ways of showing love. Papyrus doesn't need my help that often, but when he does, well. I've got his back. So do you, so y'know. I guess that means I owe you one."
If that goes beyond how he just saved her life, Sans doesn't say.
no subject
She notes that he says it in present tense, not past, but isn't sure whether that's a deliberate statement or not. She doesn't take it as anything in particular. Rosethorn didn't help Papyrus looking for anything in return, of course. Still, she doesn't address the statement in any more overt way than the reference to her vows she's already made.
no subject
He settles down on one of the chairs in Rosethorn's room, shrugging off his hoodie.
"Seeing as we've got some time before I take you up to the medbay."
no subject
She'd have preferred to keep this quiet, but she knows she'd have been scolded and already had a healer summoned to her by an overzealous foster son if she weren't on the Moira. Briar is protective.
Rosethorn isn't avoiding the question, though, and she smiles. "Living Circle. I'm an Earth Dedicate at one of their temples, I've sworn vows to my gods. I also have to follow a number of ethical codes for mages, but those have nothing to do with my religion." She's just on the governing councils that enforce those codes, so she'd better follow them herself. She tends to agree with them anyway.
no subject
It's a kind word, but a firm one all the same. Sans is unmovable. He also happens to be interested, leaning thoughtfully on his hand while Rosethorn tells her story.
"So you've got a lot of faith, huh? That's cool... can't say I was ever cursed with an overabundance of it, but I got mad respect for who those who do."