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ximilialog2022-03-05 10:57 am
- ! event log,
- altered carbon: takeshi kovacs,
- chainsaw man: aki hayakawa,
- critical role: percy de rolo,
- dctv: zar tarazi,
- digimon adventure: yamato ishida,
- doctor who: clara oswald,
- doctor who: river song,
- doctor who: the doctor (11),
- fear street: ziggy berman,
- grishaverse: the darkling,
- gundam seed/destiny: yzak jule,
- knives out: marta cabrera,
- marvel comics: gwen stacy,
- mass effect: kaidan alenko,
- mcu: sam wilson,
- mcu: shang-chi,
- mcu: yelena belova,
- one piece: rosinante donquixote,
- pacific rim: newton geiszler,
- pacific rim: raleigh becket,
- star trek aos: james t. kirk,
- supernatural: dean winchester,
- the 100: clarke griffin,
- the old guard: andromache,
- the untamed: jiang yanli,
- the untamed: lan xichen,
- the untamed: wei wuxian,
- the witcher: yennefer of vengerberg,
- towards the terra: soldier blue,
- transformers: drift,
- transformers: megatron,
- twisted wonderland: deuce spade,
- yakuza: zhao tianyou
MISSION: UPSTAIRS, DOWNSTAIRS, PART 1
● ● ● M I S S I O N 5 . 1
Perhaps the two weeks of rest on station has been enough to bring distance to the events on Badrock — whether it has or not, though, the earpieces once again ping with new information, encouraging you to read the file titled Giva.
Shortly after, Viveca’s voice follows.
This time, as you prepare, it will be with a sense of uncertainty: not really knowing which side you’ll end up on, or who you will end up with. All you can do is give your closest teammates a 'just-in-case' goodbye, and take whatever you think will be useful on your journeys: clothes, weapons, rations, perhaps some of the supply packs your teammates have put together for everyone.
The following evening, as you gather to the teleportation room, Viveca is there waiting.
She smiles a little as the machine hums to life. The lights grow brighter and brighter as you feel the tug of another planet calling —
But something is different. Right as you’re pulled away, you hear Viveca, her tone sharp and surprised:
And as it cuts off and you wait in anticipation to hear the usual echoing voices of the orb giving you the goal … it comes out unusual: distorted for some, a whisper for others, or maybe you start to hear one goal before the voices shift it to another.
As always, you'll have no chance to respond or the time to even consider what might be wrong, before you wake up elsewhere.
You open your eyes to a beautiful warm light that seems to wrap you in its glow, any unwanted blemish faded from your body, every hair kept in its perfect place. Your clothing looks as immaculate as the day you’d acquired it, not a wrinkle, not a stain, not a thread out of place. If you look around at your surroundings, you’ll learn that you’re in a grand open hall of some kind, plush light-blue carpet beneath your feet, and a winding double staircase ahead of you, leading to rooms and halls beyond your imagining.
A pleasant breeze flows through the lengthy corridor, through rows of polished stone columns and past your skin, bringing with it the faintest floral fragrance from the perfectly kempt gardens just past this interior space. You’re standing with about half of your fellow orbers, all of you looking like the picture-perfect version of yourself — but around you are others, too, faces you don’t recognize. Take a moment to reorient yourself because the tap-tap-tap of very efficient footsteps will interrupt you in moments, breaking the otherwise tranquil silence you’ve experienced so far.
A figure appears to greet you, her golden hair cropped short except where it sweeps to one side of her face, revealing a mask that conceals her eyes. Pointed ears show off her piercings — a set of simple, small golden hoops — and a pair of curling dark horns rimmed with gold seem to match her hair. Her clothing is unusual to most of the orbers, but even so, it contrasts against the stark white of this space quite harshly. She wears dark crimson armour lined also in gold, with what looks like an elaborate half-ring shoulder-guard that half-rests partially at her shoulders, and half-hovers in the air. And though she appears to have little to no vision with her eyeless mask, she clearly has no problem finding you.
Her voice is soft, but her words are careful and deliberate and they have the effect of commanding a room.
The rooms around you will be free for you to roam and include any manner of indulgence and delight which you so fully deserve for the vigilance you have proved during your life in Giva. You have earned your place here, as is only right for devoting your loyalty to the Highest One, and nothing you do now will be regarded as sin.
If you require assistance at any point, you might call upon Oh’ryst. Ruvilor will also guide you through the numerous rooms and delights that await you.
She lifts a hand towards the double staircase and nods. Two figures emerge, cloaked in the same dark red-and-gold armour, but it is clear now the purpose of the half-ring at their shoulders — the same elaborate design forms a helmet that conceals both Oh’ryst and Ruvilor’s faces from view. They each have weapons hanging at their belts and a slender staff in one hand. The only way, it seems, to tell them apart, is by the length of their hair: Oh’ryst’s hair is long and silver beneath their helmet, and Ruvilor’s hair is fully concealed in his.
It will take a few moments to adjust to the red light that seems to fill your vision when you open your eyes, and you feel as though you’d been squeezed through an alley too narrow for the width of your body, answering the call of a higher-pitched voice. You spill out into a small dark-stoned square along with about half of your fellow orbers and others you don’t recognise, and look at your surroundings: a cluster of dilapidated buildings seem to close in on you, its effects are almost suffocating, and there is never quite enough light to fully illuminate anything you see.
Beneath your feet the ground eternally glistens with the moisture of a city that has just been rained on, which might seem like an unimportant observation — except that you’ll learn this place has never actually seen rain. As you look up, you’ll find that it’s difficult to make out the limits of this place, and how much further the buildings go; how large this city really is. There is the sound of chatter and the echo of bustling activity in the streets and the alleys, like nothing here ever really rests.
Lamps overhead glow with red light and a figure steps past the shadow and into the light, three bright blue eyes blinking in your direction, one half-closed against his forehead. Against the red and black of this dense city, the figure’s eyes seem strangely alien and he turns his horned-head towards you to speak with that high pitch from earlier, waving his clawed hands to beckon you closer.
From within or behind the building nearest V’rizz (it’s hard to tell from here) someone begins to wail.
V’rizz immediately blinks his large, blue-light eyes and clears his throat, the feather collar of his jacket bristling slightly but his jittery energy seems to make one thing clear: he is just as comfortable to be standing here as you are.
Left to your own devices, you and your fellow orbers now have ample time to explore your surroundings. Taeum, you learn, is a realm made up of an endless building with unlimited rooms of all imaginings. Every floor features sheer curtains flowing in a fragrant breeze, and just past the corridor is a garden of colourful flowers and a fountain filling the airy space with the sound of trickling water. It’s easy to close your eyes and feel soothed by your surroundings; it’s nicer still knowing that your perfect room is just beyond one of these doors. Perhaps Angrial's words will echo in your ears: nothing you do here will be considered sin. It’s time to see what lies in store for you.
1.0 Long corridors lead to numerous doors, and therefore: an abundance of choices. Choose the door closest to you and you might find yourself stepping onto cleanly cut lawn and the perfect nuclear suburban neighbourhood. Otherwise, a door might lead you to a grand dining hall filled with food and drink and decor fit for royalty. There are doors for extravagant gardens, perfect lush fairytale-like forests, for stimulating bustling cities, a quiet bedroom with the highest threadcount sheets and pillows and the perfect night sky behind the bed; a room to watch the (unfamiliar, but absolutely breathtaking) stars; rooms full of kitten or puppy-like creatures. A wide, long-winding staircase leads to the next floor and then the next, a pitcher of water and glasses waiting for you at a small wall-table capping off the corridor for those moments in between. There are doors upon doors open to rooms of any imagining, with no door locked to you. Why not keep going until you find something to keep you?
2.0 Of course, not every room will be so idyllic and pure. As every inhabitant of Taeum is regarded as above sin, they are free to do what they want and feel nothing but delight and pleasure. Find a group of other Taeum inhabitants putting on acts in a room where the world looks dark and desolate, lit by a dim glow of red. Figures engage in the most peculiar acts, willingly clothed in tatters and rags, the hems torn from their shirts, play-acting as though they have nothing, and laughing amongst themselves. If such a room does not appeal, find another room on another floor where Taeum inhabitants have amassed a large amount of narcotics, hallucinogens, stimulants, and depressants, and seem to be sitting around in a room set up like a lounge, draped over seating. Many look lethargic but complacent, and no one so much as looks up when you enter. Feel free to join them if it’s what you desire — there’s plenty of space and empty couches around the room to claim as your own.
And you’ll find that among the rooms for meditation and rest, and admiring beauty and splendor, there are rooms dedicated to war and bloodshed, for sex and debauchery, proof that there really is something for everyone.
3.0 If you take Angrial’s words to heart or you’re curious to learn more about the military faction in Taeum, Ruvilor will have provided you with directions to the military wing earlier. Go on your own or find a fellow orber to enter the wing with, but you’ll be offered free entry past the first set of doors. The bright and open space sees plenty of light but immediately feels intimidating and severe, like walking into a highly efficient administrative office. A small set of steps will lead you towards a pair of locked doors but you might sneak a glimpse through the windows. This is clearly a room for council, with maps draped over tables, little pins marking off specific locations.
Oh’ryst, if spoken to, is happy to put you through some tests while you're here. There is a room full of weapons with minds of their own, attacking you one by one; a room where the military trains, directing you into the middle to a ring to battle other would-be soldiers in a round of one-on-one combat; a room with a single table, and on it a large map and an equally long scroll full of scenarios for the more tactical-minded to make decisions and prove they can commandeer troops and formulate strategies that will win not only the battle, but the war.
If you complete these tests, you will be admitted to the Host of High Home — another wing of the building that is Taeum solely dedicated to the Art of War. Here you will be given your first set of armor, red and gold made just for you, and be told to report to training for at least five days of the week.
While the streets and buildings might seem claustrophobic, easy enough to assume that this is all there is to see of Sedorum, you’ll quickly find that while the city is knit tightly, it is still incredibly vast and it functions like any city might: there are residences, shops, restaurants and businesses (mostly privately owned), as well as entertainment venues, which include a copious amount of alcohol, hallucinogens and stimulants, as well as opportunities for gambling. Under the red glow that gives Sedorum its nickname, you might as well begin exploring the Red City.
4.0 If you decide to explore the retail and financial sectors of the city, you’ll be met with several microshops set up within the crumbling architecture of the buildings that house them. People in ragged clothing sidle up as you near their wares, looking for new customers to dupe. Most of the items will seem old and worse for wear, as though they’ve been at this song and dance for years without change. Some shops might feature slightly newer items, brought to them through some dealings with Giva, perhaps, or some magic unknown. Fine china with slight nicks at the lip, a beautiful wedding dress long abandoned, a set of old spoons, or an antique doll with matted blonde hair — it isn’t all pretty. Suspicious eyes will watch you as you pass them, some might even swipe at you, looking for a purse to snatch, or a wallet to pilfer if you’re left unattended for long.
If you’re an enterprising individual, you may look at the shops and think: great, an opportunity. Indeed, if you’ve arrived armed with items you’re willing to part with, all you need to do is find a space large enough to set up a shop of your own, a little cart to fill with things from the station or the planets you’ve been to, and try and make some money off of them.
5.0 Or perhaps, if you’re not looking to make a profit, you’ll pay attention to the souls on the streets: how, if you listen carefully, you’ll find many to be whispering the same things:
But what? At the end of the day, everything in Sedorum remains the same — you’ll find some of the souls turning away as a loudly laughing group beats up someone in their middle; two gangs having a bloody fight in the middle of the Square, uncaring if who they strike is their opponent or an unfortunate passer-by; a young woman crying in front of her stall as all her wares have been smashed to pieces. In Sedorum, there is no law, and those deserving of it live alongside those simply unlucky to have been doomed to this miserable existence.
6.0 Whether you manage to adapt to this new existence in Sedorum or you find yourself despairing at the chaos and lawlessness that you notice with each passing day, you’ll also find a familiar face: V’rizz, now accompanied by another imposing figure beside him. This is Entr’i, the Minister of Arms, dressed in armour black as the deepest night, dark lines tattooed on her cheeks. They often pass through the narrow, winding streets, looking for something — or someone. You might observe that they’ll often instigate fighting within clusters of people, passing weapons forward, or watching for magic as though administering tests, looking for those who can handle themselves. Catch yourself in a similar situation, and V’rizz or Entr’i might invite you for a chat.
The invitation takes you to an unassuming alleyway, where a short series of sharp taps and a glowing drawn symbol hanging in the air for a moment will allow you and V’rizz or Entr’i to enter a doorway that leads deep underground. The stone stairs feel cold under your feet as they take you down until you arrive at a hallway, its deep obsidian walls pulsing faintly with red light.
From there you will be ushered into a large cavern that has been divided into several different arenas: a fighting ring, a space for target practice, and a corner where smiths cobble armour together from what little material they have.
She means it, too: if you specialize in combat, you will be given the task of training other souls less versed in the art of fighting with weapons. If you have a sharp mind and you’re used to command, Entr'i will take you to the others in charge of battle strategy. If you're good with your hands, she may direct you to help with making armour, weapons, talismans — anything to help the Sedora rise up … quite, well, literally.
It is shortly after arrival in your respective realm that you may notice something has gone really wrong with your earpieces. No matter how much you might try to contact those who have not appeared on the same side as you, there is really nothing but static in response. It's easy enough to give way to panic first, assuming that whoever you’re trying to speak to has left the crew like so many others now have — but a little comparing amongst yourselves will make it clear it's only everyone on the other side that can't be reached.
The upside to this is that your communications still function as they should within one realm: so those in Taeum can still use it to speak with others in Taeum, and the same goes for Sedorum. But in order for the mission to succeed, information will need to travel between the two realms … and so the connection must be re-established.
F Y I
• If you have questions about any of the prompts or the mission in general, please direct them HERE.
• To submit a search request speaking to any NPCs mentioned in the log, trying to overhear conversations, or exploring any specific place during any of the prompts, please do so HERE.
• And finally, have a soundtrack for this log! ♪ ♪ ♪
no subject
Strange. It just said there was an active, high level threat in the area.
[But it's just her and Newt here. Her poor Newt who doesn't look so well. She could scan him and probably get exactly what's wrong with him. But he wouldn't want her making that kind of fuss over him. So she pockets her sonic and crouches down enough to offer him a hand in getting up on his feet.]
You probably just overdid it. Let's get you into bed. Proper rest will do the trick.
[And maybe a gallon of water for him to drink. And something to eat. He's really looking awful.]
no subject
Well, we are in the equivalent of hell, right? Gonna be some high level threats around here. [He pushes off the wall to stand, forgoing taking her hand.] C'mon, Clara, I got this. I totally got this. I don't overdo anything.
[He says it with a look to her that implies he does overdo it and he's just being contrary.]
... Some rest might be nice, though. [He kneads his temple with a hand, trying to stave off the ache that's still throbbing there. Ah, his thoughts are getting a little clearer.] But...! Uh! I can walk you wherever you stay, f'you want. It'd be rude not to walk your buddy to their place, even if you feel like faceplanting on the floor.
no subject
[But given the fact that sounds like a come on, she holds both hands up. The fact he hasn't taken hold of her hand isn't lost on her, but she tries to ignore the nagging thought that tells her something is off here.
He just isn't feeling well. Everything's fine.]
No funny business.
[But she starts to head off in the direction of where she's staying, hoping he'll follow.]
no subject
He breathes out deeply through his nose, seems to consider turning her offer down, but — he is feeling unwell. And... and-]
Actually, I could just sleep it off at my apartment. Besides, you've probably got a little set-up with the Doctor, right? Wouldn't want to interrupt your alone time.
[He's not really sure what he wants, turns out. But he wags his eyebrows at the end anyway, because that's what he would do. Because he's a funny guy who teases his friends about their love lives.]
no subject
[She reaches up to press her palm against his face, like it's going to stop that eyebrows wagging.]
It's not like that between us. Not yet.
[Sadly, there's nothing going on with that alone time he's teasing her about. But still, she's blushing and is close to telling him to shut up. Which means she kinda wishes it was like that between them.]
But you can sleep wherever you like, Newton. I'm not gonna twist your arm.
no subject
But now. Now.
He reaches up, gently removes her hand, but manages to grip it between his own without giving in to the urge to push it away. There's still a gleam of sweat to his brow, some weariness there that dulls the urgency to move away.]
Hey, Clara? Do you ever feel like... Like this whole thing, it's making you change?
Seeing all this violence, getting stuck in these cycles, having all this pressure to — [He rolls his eyes.] To complete goals, and retrieve orbs, and fight for your life every month. Do you ever feel like it's... making you different?
Maybe not good, or bad, but — different.
Like you know when you go back to your old life, if we're even allowed to remember any of this... like you won't be the same person who showed up?
no subject
Yeah.
[Her answer is quiet, as she wraps her arms around herself.]
I thought for a while last mission I needed to learn how to fight. How to kill. And I -
[She thinks back to the Bouldersnake attack, and frowns deeply.]
I'm not sure what kind of person I'll be in a few more missions.
no subject
Feels hot all over. Feels like needing to sleep it off.]
Yeah... well. You're not gonna be alone there. We're all going to be different people, aren't we? And if we're lucky, we'll go home and forget all of this, and not have to come back as someone else to our friends and family.
[He's been struggling to keep himself together. To be — Newt. Because that's what people prefer, right? All the positive things that Newt was, the things that apparently allow them to look past all of the awful things he was, too. What are they all gonna see in a month? In a few months? A year?
Will he be worth having around then? Will he even want to be around them anymore?
It's just... It's just...
He stares a beat too long into the distance, distracted, and then shakes his head.]
I think... it would be for the best if I started distancing myself. From the crew. I mean — still work with everyone and do my part, obviously, but... keep it just... work.
[Voice lowering, he adds:]
I've always been good at working.
no subject
Quite frankly, I'm insulted you think you'd be able to successfully distance yourself from me.
[She tries keeping her tone light, to hide the worry she's feeling. But there's an edge of concern there that she just can't hide. She can't hide the sadness in her eyes as she looks over to him, the idea of him pulling away from anyone here distressing.]
no subject
But no — he's fine. He took them. He remembers.]
... I'm sure I can make exceptions for my favorite and only Stargirl.
[He's just dreaming... yeah. Just dreaming. None of this is gonna matter.
Newton almost reaches out to take Clara's hand, but they jerk it back to his side.
Who is "they"?
He would ask himself that, but he's forgotten he'd even tried to take Clara's hand in the first place.]
I cut things off with Hermann. We're not friends anymore. Too much damage done, you know? It was never really a healthy relationship we had to begin with. So.
no subject
He rejected you. [She softly points out, shrugging to try and keep the indifference he has going. But on the inside, sirens are going off and she's becoming increasingly concerned.]
He wanted space. You're giving it to him.
[Each word feels like it's wrong to say. But she thinks that he needs to hear it. That he needs her on his side with this. Her eyes glance down to his hand, which she'd normally try to grab and hold right about now. Things feel empty without that contact, though she tries to respect his newfound hatred of touch.]
no subject
And then came skipping up at me later like nothing had happened.
[He sniffs, shrugs as he tucks his hands into his jacket pockets.]
Now it's me that wants space. A lot of space. I'm tired, so I'm hitting reset and letting us go our own ways. [He glances at her, brow pinched. Worried, maybe, that he's about to be scolded for his choices, maybe. But he can appreciate that she's trying her best to be the friend he's always relied on here. Genuinely. Lately, it's been hard to feel like that's even a real thing people do anymore, being there when you're all screwed up.] Sometimes that's just what happens, and it's fine.
He'll make friends other than me; he's been building up to it, so I'm sure he will.
no subject
What if he doesn't, though?
[That feels more important to ask than anything. Hermann is her friend, and although he's not anywhere near as close to her as Newt is, she doesn't want him to be isolated and miserable. And deep down, she doesn't think Newt would want him to be either.]
Surely you'll let him back in at some point.
no subject
[To his credit, he sounds genuinely unsure, maybe a little lost on what he wants. It’s not like he hates Hermann suddenly; it’s not like he wanted to be bitter and angry and sad about everything. But the other option seems almost unreasonable, or at least that’s what the voice in his head tells him. Things are fucked, Clara, and they won’t get unfucked. It’s what he wants to say, what he almost says, but he tries to think from the heart.]
Never know what the future holds, right? Maybe he’ll end up with a new best friend. Or maybe he’ll get sick of this mess and go back home… or maybe we’ll end up on okay terms. I don’t know.
What I do know is — I don’t want anything to do with it right now.
I’m tired of it. I’m tired of how tired it all makes me. I just want a break from the obligation of being a decent friend, you know? It’s fucking exhausting, and I don’t know how you or anyone else does it.
no subject
And if he feels he needs distance from Hermann right now, she's here to support that decision. For now.]
No one wants to be an obligation.
[She gently points it out, hand dropping down to her side.]
I'm sure everyone will understand you need space.
[She's still excluding herself from that, of course.]
And if not? They'll answer to me.
no subject
Always defending the most questionable of friends, Clara. It's not a good trait to have.
... But he's glad she has it.]
Thanks, Clara.
I should, uh — I should get back home. Rest up for the actual mission.
[He laughs weakly.]
You'd think they wouldn't give us personal goals so we could focus on getting the damn things.
no subject
Seriously? After Badrock, I'm convinced we're only given personal goals to continue entertaining the stupid orbs.
[But her grumbling isn't met with anything but a concerned smile, as she waves him off. She starts to back away, so he'll know she's fine with his leaving.]
Go rest, Newt. I'll see you soon.
[And with that, she backs her way up into the crowd, blending in among them so she can go off on her next adventure.]