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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)! )
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hownkai) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thisavrou_log2016-03-01 02:40 pm
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He might admire people from a distance, maybe, but hook ups in general were a bit too complicated for his current state of mind.
"Heh, I don't think I've been on a world where these things aren't a problem, but the fact that solutions are being found and agreed upon is some hope for the future," he says quietly. God knows his own species was taking one step forwards and two steps back most days.
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He chuckles. "Indeed. If hope is the only thing we have in common at least its something positive." Because that was decidedly important, having things in common that were actually pleasant. Even if it meant that each of their planets also came with a healthy measure of strife and difficulty.
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And, you know, the whole Spectre thing and the high possibility of a sudden and violent death which makes relationships kind of awkward. For now, however, Nihlus decides to avoid discussing that.
"I like hope all well and fine, but sometimes I think about how entertaining it would be plunking the leaders of extremist movements into one room and having them duke it out, you know?" He starts unfolding his shirt as he talks.
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Eric just tilts his head to the side, not quite understanding the humour behind the idea. "Well, one person's idea of extremism is another's idea of desperation. Things are never the same from the other side of the coin."
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He remembers being sixteen and watching the newscasts on Palaven, blue painted politicians describing the horrific methods they'd use to segregate the bare-faced and the off-worlders. Worse yet, his squad-mates murmuring agreement from the shadows, thinking he couldn't hear them.
"I think we have somewhat different definitions of extremism," Nihlus says gently, idly wishing he'd brought along a bottle of alcohol. Brain bleach would be nice right about now.
"Back on the topic of sewing things though," he nods to the shirt, casting his roommate a small smile. "How likely is it that I'm going to be able to turn this into a turtleneck? Turians lose a lot of heat through their necks, you see."
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And he contemplates the idea of a turtleneck which... which doesn't seem to be the easiest thing to make out of this particular material, even if the gear was meant to be thermal. "I'm not exactly versed on creating turtlenecks. Perhaps a scarf?"
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"A scarf would be really great, actually, but..." Nihlus gives the pieces of clothes a calculating look. "I'm not sure we have enough fabric to make a scarf, unless we get an extra uniform piece? Seems a bit wasteful to do that."
He could just use pants as scarves. Maybe.
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Add Eric to the growing list of people who have surprised Nihlus this week.
Gingerly folding his mandibles back in place, he manages a bit of an airless laugh.
"Red," the Spectre says softly after a moment. And then he adds, "It's beginning to get a bit difficult to believe this isn't some kind of weirdly long fever dream, you know?"
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should we head for wrap?
The dense, warm weight of it was oddly comforting.
"It feels kind of like the fabric made from Palaven's sidana plant," he remarks quietly before looking up and offering Eric a genuinely grateful smile.
"Thank you."
aye!
"And anyway, it was no trouble, honestly." Because Eric could do so much more than simply create a scarf.