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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
no subject
[Ignoring the yelp of surprise, he decides to address the adult in the room instead. A hand gestures to Sideswipe as his eyes meet Cyclonus'.]
And this is?
no subject
[No Way.]
[Everyone knows Megatron is dead. Optimus killed him. And died too or something (and then started haunting Bee but whatever).]
You're not Megatron. Megatron's Mega-dead.
no subject
The grownups are having a conversation, buddy.]
He has yet to introduce himself.
no subject
He must be from one of the colonies. He looks too young to be from Cybertron.
[He gives Sideswipe a cursory look over.]
Move your boots farther apart, your stance is far too narrow.
no subject
[He shifts enough to put both hands on the sword, because clearly that's going to help.]
Back off, rust bucket. Or else my feet aren't going to be the only things moving here.
[WOW THAT SOUNDED A LOT BETTER IN HIS HEAD.]
no subject
But, better step in before the little guy hurts someone with that thing. Probably himself.
Stepping forward, Cyclonus 'gently' slaps the sword up and out of Sideswipe's grip before catching it by the hilt and letting his arm drop to his side. Now he has a blade in each hand.
And he's otherwise ignoring Sideswipe.]
Or possibly he's from an earlier time. There does seem to be some temporal discrepancy among arrivals, though between Tailgate and I it's quite small.
no subject
[He takes a step into the room before his gaze finally snaps down to Sideswipe in an unintentionally supervillainous manner. Old habits die hard.]
And you - What is your name?
no subject
[If Bee or Grim were here...]
[But fine. If he's going to go out, he's going to go out the most obnoxious asshole child possible.]
What's it to you, bucket-head?
[... that sounded better in his head. Where he wasn't fighting to keep a level voice.]
no subject
In the meantime, he'll leave the talking to someone with a modicum of charisma.]
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[Megatron's renamed many a Decepticon soldier that joined his ranks, it certainly wouldn't be the first time.]
[He looks at Cyclonus.]
Pinhead seems like an apt name for him, wouldn't you agree?
[He makes a gesture with his hand, pantomiming the sharp armor pieces coming off his helmet.]
no subject
That's not my name, gas-can!
[Of course that suddenly runs into the problem of Does he really want Megatron to know his name, and what does he say it is instead. He stews in angry silence for a beat, before falling back on what he'd used on Steeljaw forever ago.]
You want a name, fine. I'll give you one to remember -- the great Autobot Grimbee.
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Finally he turns to Megatron.]
Pinhead seems appropriate.
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[He tilts his head, mockingly trying to decide if he believes the Autobot or not. Megatron had Starscream at his side for millions of years. That long pause is enough of a tell for that lie as any.]
We will have to see when I check the ship's registry. For now, I believe your new name is a far more appropriate one.
Welcome to the Moira.
no subject
[Don't shoot your mouth off, Sideswipe, just. Don't.]
[But maybe if he can just. Sneak to the door. He can get out. And find a makeshift weapon for a while.]
I'm not playing for your team.
no subject
[You can tell by the giant Autobrand on Megatron's chest. Your observational skills are lacking, Pinhead.]
no subject
[Not that he expects Pinhead to really care about rank. He comes off as a more childish Rodimus type.]
And Cyclonus is unaligned, he was never a Decepticon.
no subject
[And then back to Megs. Tensing up like he's looking for an opening.]
I wasn't talking about him! And like fun am I asking a Megatron for help. Drive into a lake!
An acid lake!
no subject
Moving to the doorway, he waits for Megatron to move aside.]
If you'll excuse me...
[He has somewhere quieter to find.]
no subject
Perhaps Magnus will be more to your taste, then.
[He steps aside to allow Cyclonus to leave before following him out the hallway.]
The offer is still open regardless.
no subject
[Just sort of... awkwardly staring at the doorway, still tensed up, with some sort of comment ready and...]
[Nothing.]
[What does he even do now?]
[Better question. Where the heck were the others when you actually needed them? Grim or Bee would have come in handy right about five minutes ago.]
[Now what?]