epidemiology | EVENT ★ COWBOYS VS. ALIENS

EVENT ★ COWBOYS VS. ALIENS

STATE OF THE PLANET

Efforts in convincing the Qorral to stop drilling have been tentatively successful. Longterm solutions have been brought to them and, perhaps most importantly for the immediate, the fracking fields have been destroyed. The entire field has collapsed in on itself, taking mining equipment with it and creating a barren wasteland. In effect, the Qorral can no longer drill for argecite here, which means they will be leaving earlier than expected now that there is no use for the mining colony. It also means that the planet has been saved from being hollowed out completely.

On the other hand, attempts at dealing with the Deemers have been a little shaky. By now, it's known that Miz Poppy is host to the Mother, the queen of this Taraxa hive. She remains elusive, slipping through the fingers of any who manage to find or capture her. Meanwhile, the infested Qorral have been dealt with in many ways: some opting for wholesale slaughter, some hoping to extract the Taraxa in the field, and some sending both extracted Taraxa and infested hosts back to Oska to be examined.

As varied as the Deemer solutions have been, they have all resulted in the Deemer population being decimated. The numbers have dwindled as their camps are hunted down by ALASTAIR recruits, and attacks on the town of Perdition's Rest halt.

But the Mother is still out there and free, and that's a problem . . .

THE INVASION (DAY 1)

In the morning, the ships come.

Visible from the ground are massive spaceships in the upper atmosphere, gently drifting clouds sometimes blocking them from view. The Qorral don't recognize the ships; they're neither from their homeworld nor from any species they know, friendly or otherwise. For a few hours, the ships just hang in space like looming, silent buzzards, waiting.

And then -- sparkling, metal objects start falling to the planet. It's difficult to tell what they are, as their scale is minuscule compared to the gigantic warships above, and their descent is strangely beautiful. But as the objects come closer to the surface, the details become clear: individual spacecraft. They're gleaming in gold and white metal, a triangle sigil painted on the sides, and cannons mounted on the bottom.

These are Zymandis fighter craft. And they are not here to make nice.

The fighter craft swoop down close and send a barrage of lasers down on Perdition's Rest, causing the local Qorral to scatter. But their fear doesn't last long: many immediately take up arms to fire back at the ships when they're low enough, including Sheriff Holladay, who shouts commands to anyone who will listen, Qorral and ALASTAIR alike: take cover, give 'em hell, and for sun's sake, don't be a hero. (Those who have been officially deputized may access the sheriff's armory, which includes all sorts of fun toys of the shooty variety.)

But some Qorral have something else in mind. A small pack of locals rides out to the farm of Amos Zephyr -- and if you're suspicious enough to follow, it'll pay off. Beneath Zephyr's farm is a hidden defense platform: earth slowly moves aside as a metal platform raises up, home to mounted anti-aircraft cannons and fighter craft of their own.

The Qorral fighter craft are intuitively designed, and the Qorral will also quickly give any curious ALASTAIR recruit a run-down on how to operate them. They're short-handed since so many of their number joined the Deemers, so they're very eager to allow anyone to try their hand at flying the two-man ships, which have their own mounted cannons and, of course, escape parachutes. The fighter craft are not meant for high altitudes, though, so your dreams of space travel will have to wait for another time.

Those who do not wish to take flight and aren't comfortable with projectile weapons may find luck searching the desert for prey: namely, Taraxa agents attempting to flee in Zymandis escape pods. It seems as though the fighter craft are a distraction from the real goal of Zymandis helping its agents flee the planet. The Zymandis agents who are not Taraxa are variously humanoid, all equipped with laser weapons (spears, rifles, whips) that they will not hesitate to use against any who interrupt their attempts at escape.

For those who aren't battle inclined, there are civilians who need to be ushered to safety, and quick repairs to weapons, equipment, horses, or even the Qorral fighter craft will be needed. This fight is going to be a long one.

THE AFTERMATH (DAY 2)

It's peaceful now. The Zymandis warships have fled into space with the surviving Taraxa agents in tow, the Mother presumably among them. The combined efforts of team Audentes and the Perdition's Rest colonists have successfully staved off the attack.

The destruction wrought by Zymandis (and, perhaps, by overeager recruits themselves) is visible across the planet: deep fissures and scars from the laser cannons, fighter craft wreckage from both sides, burned buildings and trees, perhaps a fire still raging in the scrub grass somewhere. The Qorral aren't quite sure what that was all about, but they're more concerned with ALASTAIR's efforts in helping than in pointing fingers.

Q-65 is no longer a suitable home, so the locals begin to pack up in preparation for the arrival of their homeworld's ships in the next few days. An old man puts his chess pieces away; a little girl clutches her robot pony doll, unwilling to put it in her suitcase; the stable owner and the blacksmith stand close together and talk in hushed, affectionate tones. Sheriff Holladay lets her deputies know they've served the colony well. It's bittersweet, but the Qorral always knew this settlement was never permanent.

The mission complete, Audentes should expect to arrive back at Oska shortly. Use the time to say goodbye and finish up your business. Or, if you'd like, drink some of the booze that someone just found in the cellar beneath the burned-out saloon. It doesn't keep during interstellar travel, and no one will begrudge you a little celebration.

OOC NOTES

This log wraps up the Perdition's Rest mission! The log will last two IC days, after which characters will immediately return to Oska via dimensional rift (on 21 December in OOC time).

Mission epilogue details will go up at a later date, but for now, Audentes can rest easy knowing that the mission has been a success. We will be posting an OOC post-mission assessment on 14 December so we can discuss how the mission went and talk about the state of the game in general.

There is a new bounty on the Oska Bounty Board! Perdition's Rest bounties remain open until 21 December, at which point you will no longer be able to turn them in. You can also request bounty missions at any time.

Please direct all questions pertaining to the mission to the dossier page to keep questions and responses in one place for easy player reference. General game questions should be directed to the FAQ. To submit a player plot or future mission idea, please go to the Suggestions post.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[There is always talk of celebration in the aftermath of these things, but Sieglinde always just feels... drained. Not just physically, from all the magic she used healing and the labor that went into stitching, bandaging, and debriding, into staying awake.

Mentally. She wasn't raised in fire and screams, and the tales and reading she had done didn't prepare her for the truth of war. Every time she began to acclimate to a place, and the battles there... to the chimera in Chantes, to the goddesses of Nalawi, to the plantlife of Zeta-12... they moved on, and the battle changed.

And now she's finally awake, even though the day was mostly gone, and someone said there was decent drink near the saloon, and there was... but there was also Ban.

Without saying anything herself, Sieglinde toddles over, awkwardly getting down into a sit and her familiar padding over to lay down behind her, trying to work the tight cork out of the bottle she'd grabbed.]

[Ban's posture was likely familiar. He had fallen asleep drunk in that posture plenty of times out in the open and often enough that it was likely how he had greeted most familiar faces at any given time in the day. Despite that, he didn't look as if he had been drinking. There were no scattered bottles or wet stains on his clothing. There was just a layer of sand and dust that had collected on him overnight that fell from him when he moved to look at Sieglinde.

It really had been the first time he moved in all those hours.]

Hey. [It had been weeks. Meeting the Sins again and fighting to save Liones had taken awhile but it was still a flicker of fleeting time to him. Meeting Elaine again and fighting the Ten Commandments had taken even less time. If anything, Ban had spent more time with Sieglinde and his new allies than Elaine, Jericho, King and Escanor, back then.

He didn't realize his voice cracked under the strain. His voice had no ring to it and his eyes were dull, barely meeting Sieglinde's.]

You look like you've been busy.

[Sieglinde hadn't noticed Ban had gone. Not for lack of observation, but because she had been gone as well. Back to Oska, to babysitting Team Squirrel Fucker, to at least managing a few of her projects... but she knows something has happened, even if she doesn't know what.

It seems a high priority, now, to get that drink opened.]

I believe we all have.

[She didn't usually see him in the midst of battle, (when they knew said battle was incoming)... but he hardly needed healing. It made sense.

She gets the stopper out, and with a moment's hesitation, offered the bottle to Ban instead, taking a better look at him, and the state of his clothing.]

[Without any clear change in Ban's disposition, he lifted his head somewhat to follow her hand and the bottle that held it. Sieglinde had already been familiar enough with Ban that she would know drinking was his worst vice, so it seemed strange that she was willing to offer any drink to him on a whim.

Though, if he were to think about it a bit more, he would think it made sense. After a ridiculous battle like that, most drinkers would have seen a great reason to start up again.

He took the bottle from Sieglinde again, dust spilling off of his forearm to further emphasize just how still he had been that entire time. He resembled just about any other outdoor fixture in town the next morning, covered by the desert's leavings.

He drank as if he were thirsty--not that he could have been. Ban said nothing and offered Sieglinde the bottle again once he took his gulps.]

[Sieglinde has come to understand something about drinking she had never been in position to know before. Oh, she had read about it, of course, but. That wasn't truly knowing, or experiencing it... reasons to drink, to forget.

He's been here quite a long time.

She takes the bottle back just as silently, swishing the liquid about in the container a moment before she took her own hearty drink. Mulling over what to say.]

How does the vintage compare?

[He's a far more experienced drinker than she is. She knows only the local beers brewed by her village women, and the occasional brew from a farther land captured from someone passing through the Witch Forest.

It's all she can think to say.]

[Like a machine running on empty for so long, Ban had a rough time starting up again. In no time, his skin was flush with warmth and his nerves woke themselves up with the help of their new, numbing sensation. Ban remembered what it was like to feel good and it came back with goosebumps on the back of his neck.

In truth--]

Weeeeell... [Like night and day, he had gone from unnervingly still and dull to jovial as if the sun couldn't wait to rise.

He could remember trying to convince Sieglinde to take the topic seriously once before and it had caught him off guard that she got right into it without hesitation.]

The problem is... age isn't necessarily an indication of talent, you know? You could make crappy liquor for a century and still have people clamoring over dusty old bottles just because of the age.

[What Ban could tell Sieglinde about how liquor was made could fit into a night or two of him talking her ears off. What really mattered to him was something he barely thought about, anymore. Sieglinde's subdued regard told Ban that was probably tired from the day and likely not in the mood for a nap induced by boring recollections of brewing techniques.]

But, it really hit the spot! So, you guys recovered some stuff from the bar's storeroom?

[It was heartening, seeing Ban regain the spark she wished to see, come alive again- like that old dog of Hilde's, who would perk up and wag his tail again when Wolfram started cooking.

... Perhaps it was kind of a poor thing to compare Ban to, but. She had very little in life experiences before ALASTAIR to work with, so it would have to do.

So she listens. Nods.

It makes sense, actually- the brew her villagers made was supposedly better the longer it sat, but honestly, Edwina's was better than Helga's- Anyway.]

Apparently- they were passing it out, and I asked very few questions.

[She takes another sip, trying to be more... appraising, this time.]

It is not as strong as the Nalawin liquor, however.

Uh huh. That's just 'cause the deer-folk had two stomachs, right? [Ban had part of it down but he did remember the conversation despite being drunk enough to poison the town's well with his vomit. The drink Ban took was enough for the moment so he let Sieg choose when to give him more--as she was the one sharing and not the other way around. Even in a poor state, Ban understood some etiquette.]

Figure these folks don't quite wanna go blind any time they wanna party, so the regular swill ought to be alright.

[That and it was apparent that they didn't want to be too rundown and beat the morning after their drinking. Towns like that had people who worked every day of the week--not just a square Monday to Friday.

Not that Ban had ever worked a day in his life, before.]

Least they saved some good stuff, though. I'm probably gonna need it~.

Correct- so to them, it was not strong necessarily, it merely seemed so to us, with our inability to filter out the liquor in the same manner.

[She is actually kind of impressed he remembered that, even as small a scrap from her talk as it was, so she... rewards him by passing the bottle back his way in offer. After all, she didn't plan to get entirely foolishly drunk today. At least- not yet she didn't. She had only just woken up from her near coma post-healing, after all.]

It is a good thing your liver is as immortal as the rest of you.

[In his era, knowledge of what a 'liver' did was pretty far out of the minds of bandits and thieves. Ban only really knew that liver could be eaten certain ways and taste delicious, otherwise. So, the mention of his liver had him lifting one brow in confusion.]

What's my liver got to do with this?

[He took the bottle again without hesitation, not realizing that while his mouth was moving and he was keeping his composure, he still felt like lying down and not getting back up ever again.]

Your liver is what filters toxins out of your body.

[Was that a simple enough explanation... ? Sieglinde hoped so, because she didn't think she could say it simpler than that.]

Damage to a liver over time is what tends to kill drunkards.

[One had to wonder why it was possible to make liver taste good, then. Ban frowned inwardly at the thought.]

So, I imagine if I weren't immortal, I'd be dead at my age~.

[It was a strange thing to smile while saying something like that, sure.]

Or at least a patient with a severely compromised liver, which would lead to a host of other problems as toxins build up in your blood.

[She opens her hand to gesture for the bottle back, not even bothering to deny what he says is probably kind of true.]

Good thing you are immortal.

Mmmm~. Guess so. [The description sounded like the poison miners had gotten in searching for ore outside of Raven. Ban frowned at the thought, remembering how they would cough up dirt routinely.]

It is pretty handy, huh?

[Though to him, it was much more a point of depression.]

[She tried to say it lightly, but in the end, she sort of just... sighs, and looks out at the dusty town street.]

... when it comes to your drinking habits, anyway.

Hell, you know I can come back from worse than just thaaat. [Placing his hands on his knees--Ban began to sit up and then stand. Dusting himself off, he looking to the surrounding wreckage and still-smoking pockets where laser blasts had changed the look of the town.

No doubt, he definitely wasn't the only one in a poor state. He reached down to pat Sieglinde on the head before turning to look for somewhere to go.]

Anyway, thanks for the drink. It really hit the spot~. For now, though, I'm gonna go take a walk ♪.

[She knew. She'd seen it with her own eyes, after all, him coming back from far worse than a poisoned liver. A lost limb, a crushed body, and more. It would almost be frightening, if she hadn't dealt with the frightening all her life.

But she doesn't stop him, she has a plan and it involves her own attempt at drinking. So she raises the bottle in a salute.]

Enjoy.

[It was all she could think to say, but she figures it's enough.]

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EVENT ★ COWBOYS VS. ALIENS

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