EVENT ★ RECOLLECTION DAY

[futurologists]

RECOLLECTION DAY On the recruits' return to Oska, they will find some dreary weather, plus the entire castle and town decorated in purple and silver. Ribbons, streamers, and lights in ALASTAIR's colors fill every populated space, and there are more people milling about than before: humanoids and others in equal measure, all of them dressed in ALASTAIR uniforms of some degree. Dagny, Uruz, Cherenkov, and Crowley can be found among the others, as can recent recruit Pomarr, the undead Dakal from the last mission. The weather seems to be due to Pomarr. It's generally overcast around Oska, but the in area nearest to their newest recruit it will always be softly raining to some degree. THE FEAST Inside the castle, one of the many studies is decorated lavishly in the same purple-and-silver scheme as the rest of Oska. Today the kitchen is porting food directly into this room, where it's set out along long tables at the edges of the room. You can find anything here, food to suit any kind of diet from any kind of planet at all. There are no promises that all food will suit all diets, though. But still, if you want to try the bubbling pot of orange with the little worms that keep trying to struggle out of it, no one's going to stop you. A well-dressed, gently green lady stands at the center of the room, nursing a wineglass full of something silvery and addressing the room at large. She seems to be going over the history of Oska, to anyone who will listen. The gist of it is that Oska was once an entire world, densely populated and well known for its music and carefully bred hunting companion animals. However, its energy was severely unbalanced, and the world was swiftly coming undone. ALASTAIR recruits of the time realized it was the very animals the natives so loved that were the focus of all of the planet's energy, but by the time they had finally figured it out and began to cull the animals, it was too late. This little scrap is all they managed to save. What locals remained eventually died out, being too few to repopulate by themselves, and ALASTAIR opted to move in and reclaim the space, so as not to let this world go entirely forgotten. With their very base of operations as a reminder of what can happen to any world at any time, ALASTAIR of today is not likely to forget the necessity of their mission any time soon. Come for the food, stay for the slightly depressing story, and leave again fuller and maybe a little more somber than you were before. THE OBSERVATORY This room is usually home to a large telescope, a ceiling that slides open, and a lot of gauzy, ethereal decoration. Today it's been cleared out for what seems to be a room-wide, three dimensional documentary, playing on repeat throughout the festival. Images of a vast star system are projected into this room from no identifiable source, floating holograms the viewer can walk between and admire from any angle. A deep, soothing, presumably male voice speaks over the moving images, describing the action as it unfolds. In the beginning, there was one universe. It was vast and eternal, and most importantly, self-sustaining. There was no reason to doubt it would go on forever. The images at this point are on a cosmic scale, an impossible number of tiny stars swirling in silent patterns. We don't know what shattered the harmony, we only know that shatter it, it did. We call this the Cataclysm. This part is clearly an artist's interpretation. Slivers of light snake across the universe like the cracks in a broken window, shaking apart the entire scene. Some of the broken sections implode onto themselves in beautiful colors; some of them spread out and consume their neighbors. It's beautiful in a way, and probably completely visually inaccurate to whatever the real event looked like. The voice continues: The Universe became the Multiverse. The harmony is broken, and the energy no longer balances out. Worlds are thrown into disarray and chaos, some burning out immediately while others struggle on as they are able. There are even dozens of iterations of the same reality existing in some places, just barely splintered from one another and overlapping in impossible ways. The shards of our formerly united reality are nearly limitless. There are flashes of worlds as the narrator's voice continues. Each one lasts no longer than five seconds, filling the room and then flashing into the next scene. These are flashes of real worlds, broadcast up from the mysterious Viewing Hall and all of its mirrors down in the dungeons. Recruits watching diligently enough may even catch sight of familiar scenes. This is ALASTAIR's duty. We travel from reality to reality, doing what we must to equalize the energy. The necessary tasks can vary wildly, as wildly as the realities themselves do. In some worlds we find great success, snatching them from the brink of destruction and allowing them to continue on, rebalanced. Some worlds cannot be saved. The images shift, this time replaying old, completed missions. The variety is huge here, too. One team of blue humanoids dressed in ALASTAIR purple struggles to pull a mammoth out of a tar pit. Two small, doglike recruits dash through a dark alleyway, dodging laser fire. A team of something human-shaped but bundled up in spacesuits climb carefully through the weightlessness of space along the outside edge of an enormous spaceship. The narrator has just one more line to add: Ours is no easy task, but if not us. . . who? The informational recording fades out, and five minutes later, plays again from the beginning. THE COURTYARD Down in the courtyard, the festivities continue, this time led by Dagny and Uruz. They have a great number of temporary pens set up in the middle of the area, each one holding a strange, fantastical animal, which doesn't seem at all happy to be there. These are new mounts, Uruz will explain. Each one of them was personally rescued from a dying world by Dagny and herself. They're not quite tame yet, though, and so they've made a competition of it: anyone who can convince a creature to let them sit astride its back and then guide it into a pen in the stables proper will win a prize. Dagny would like to request that you be really careful, please! Those tusks and spikes can get really sharp. The prize given to any winning recruit will be a small, silvery musicbox. Opening it plays a soothing tune that will calm anything within the area for about 30 minutes. It can only be used once. Feel free to make up what kind of creature your character runs into. The stables of ALASTAIR are well known for their variety! LOST ORBS Have you ever wondered how Oska is powered? Well, obviously it's plasma orbs, how else? Oska's resident cats have been hard at work creating more of these, to the point that those not yet in use need somewhere to be contained. The problem is, these things are mobile. They'll float anywhere they please with some kind of debatable mind of their own, and lately it's not been uncommon to see two or three of them floating idly down the hallway together. Crowley and Cherenkov have requested recruit assistance in corralling these things and bringing them to a room set up to keep them in on the third floor. They're a bit like slowly deflating helium balloons, and can be guided with gentle taps to get them floating along in the right direction. Touching one of them is a strange experience that tends to leave hair standing on end. Touching more than one of them at the same time, however, is not recommended. Simultaneous contact with two or more plasma orbs has been known to have strange effects on people, including but not limited to developing the power to fly, sudden weightlessness, animal shapeshifting, ice breath, teleportation, and creating a protective and impenetrable bubble around oneself. None of these effects lasts longer than two minutes, and in each case, the following magitek hangover will make any orb-toucher feel awful for at least half an hour. HOTSPRINGS There's a new addition to Oska, down by the lake. It seems another team recently extracted an enormous, very hot core from a sentient and murderous AI. The core's power source isn't expected to run out for at least another thousand years, and unsure what else to do with it, the team dug it a pit not far from the lake. They failed to realize that this would accidentally have a very, very pleasant outcome. There are now hotsprings by the lake, nestled into the small grove of trees that grow around it. The water bubbles softly up from the ground in a new (technically man-made) pool, and some enterprising recruits have built wooden decks and stairs around and through the whole affair. It's a little bit of a hike to get there from the castle, but anyone who has visited can agree: it's worth it. OOC INFO Welcome to the festival! This will ICly last for 3 days (and OOCly for 2 weeks), at the end of which the other teams visiting the party will ship out to other missions and leave the PC team to unwind with Oska all to themselves. Through the duration of the festival, recruits will find themselves asked one question repeatedly: do you new guys have a team name yet? It seems everyone else has a team name! Really, it's just sort of sad that a team this big doesn't have a name, isn't it? We'll be including a section for characters to ICly suggest team names, and later on will be hosting an IC vote to pick a team name. Characters who signed up to remain in Nalawi for three months will arrive late to the party, but how late is up to players.

Comments

thank you!

[strictdiscipline]

I've done it before.

[Replied with a hint of acerbity in her voice, though it's quick to fade, drowned out by a low sigh. Ultimately he's right, she wasn't thinking. In fact, she was trying a little hard not to think, which is precisely what landed her in this mess to begin with.

She runs a hand through her hair, dusting off a few stray flyaway pieces of ash.]

But as you can see, I'm not very well versed in using magic yet. [Largely because:] It's surprisingly difficult to find teachers for this.

[She's certainly asked around. Either they flat-out refuse her or they vanish within the next month.]

[evantuality]

[Evan, being the sort of person he is, picks up on that acerbic edge and it straightens his spine a bit. She loses it a moment later, but that's still a clear signal for him to tone it back a little: after all, of the two of them, she is the elder, the more experienced, and honestly the one with the greater presence to her. Perhaps he knows his way around a fire or two, but he supposes he shouldn't lecture.

He does, however, grimace at her last comment.]

Good lord, that does not surprise me. We're all from such different worlds, there's no guarantee someone who offered to teach you would even have magic that works the same way. How frustrating.

[Still... he can't just leave it at that, can he?]

But... I mean, that said, combustion works the same way anywhere there's oxygen. [He eyeballs her for a moment; does she know what he is? Has she heard it through the grapevine, or maybe is she one of the ones he's told about what he is? It's rather telling of how this place has changed him, he realizes, that he doesn't know outright.] If you want a hand, I have some skills in that department. Or, you know, an on-hand living fire extinguisher.

[His grin is a little nervous.]

[strictdiscipline]

[The offer in basic instruction catches her by surprise, in more ways than one. (Mostly, she hadn't expected slightly excitable but generally friendly Evan to be well-versed in such things. But just goes to show how well she's gotten to know her fellow recruits.) She pauses slightly, brows furrowing as the impact of his words fully sink in.]

You know fire magic?

[There are probably very many more relevant and useful questions that could be asked right at this moment (such as how long have you been learning, was it a genetic ability or a gained one, and how many burns should I expect over the course of learning?) but she's still a bit frazzled from nearly setting the entirety of Oska's garden display on fire.]

[evantuality]

[That phrasing draws a delicate grimace from the young man, though this one has the subtle flavour of sheepishness to it rather than simple embarrassment.]

Well. For a certain definition of fire magic, and for a certain definition of know.

I suspect what I do is fairly different from what you can do, perhaps even in the basic principles involved, but it is certainly worth a try, particularly if you've been having trouble with, um, control. At the very least you need a spotter.

[He narrows his eyes a little bit and actually side-eyes her, knowing the kinds of questions that will come with that offer. He can trust her, certainly, but that doesn't really make this not strange for him.] My mother's an elemental. You can guess what type.

[strictdiscipline]

'Elemental'?

[Not a word that has a strictly defined meaning to her, but it's not hard to guess at, both from his particular phrasing and the context of their conversation. (So don't answer that.)

But, again, he's right - there is no telling if any of his knowledge will be transferrable. She knows nothing of the types of magic ALASTAIR disperses at their whimsy, nor of any of the other types of magic that currently wink in and out of existence in worlds she'll never visit. All the same, she has to at least try, lest a repeat of this incident occur in as many days.]

They might be different, but surely the basics of control are the same. Like using a weapon or engaging in a sport - you have to be physically fit and have good control of your muscles before going any further.

[Maybe that's an analogy lost on him though, what with those noodly arms and all....]

[evantuality]

[Evan bobs his head, leaving the hypothetical to be answered by context and focusing instead on the assertion she's made. The gesture is one of equivocation; he's cautious to get too optimistic about skill transference, here.]

Well, theoretically, I guess. I suspect for anyone who does this stuff, learning proper concentration is a must, but I mean, you could say that about anything.

[He huffs, beginning to look embarrassed.] To be really honest I'm probably not that much further ahead than you in the, er, control and conscious use department. Mine's an inherent enough skillset that I've only recently started trying to use it more consciously...

[Oh that sounds awful. He compensates by offering her a bright smile.] But no better way than to work through it together, I suppose. So, so how do you do yours? Is it spellwork? I mean, if you've recently learned it, who did you learn it from?

[strictdiscipline]

[Ease up on the questions there, Evan, she's got almost no cue how any of this works on a general level, much less a technical one. It shows in her crooked smile, apologetic and unsure.]

I'm...not sure. It seems to be tied to my willpower; I've never needed to say or do anything to get it to work.

[Though perhaps that might be an easier method of channeling it, she's never given it much thought. Maybe it's worth looking into, once they hash this whole thing out.]

I spoke a little with a woman named Hawke while she was here. She passed on a few tips regarding concentration, though she was transferred shortly thereafter.

[evantuality]

[Evan sighs. He's coming down from his initial fluster and uncertainty, and in the face of seeing the same in her he's pulling himself together. If he's going to be playing teacher, he should at least look like he knows what he's doing, right? He leans his rump against a half-wall in the garden, looking at Riza with serious consideration perhaps a little odd on someone who usually looks a bit young for his age.]

Yeah, the turnover here is kind of awful for forming any sort of meaningful teaching relationship, isn't it?

[But that's the sympathetic, the theoretical. They've got matters to attend to.]

Would you show me what you did in order to light the bush on fire? It might give us an idea of where to start.

[strictdiscipline]

[Easier said than done, all things considered.

Riza gives the now burnt bush a thoughtful once-over, contemplating how best to describe the action - or lack thereof - she takes whenever trying to conjure fire into being. It's surprisingly difficult.]

I just—focus. [Which sounds like a terribly weak and half-baked answer, all things considered.] I imagine in my mind the way I want things to be and it just—happens.

[Is it even magic if there aren't weird incantations or hand gestures to go along with it?]

[evantuality]

Hmm. Hmm....

[Evan, thinking, pushes off of the low wall he's half sitting on in order to go to the burned bush and crack off one of the less charred limbs. He's chewing the inside of his lower lip in consideration, rather belatedly looking at Riza and nodding.]

You know, that sounds more like what I'm used to than not. Maybe I can help after all.

Here. [he holds his branch up. He wants to see her work.] Light this one.

[strictdiscipline]

[It's strange, to become the student rather than the teacher after so many years of excelling at her job. The feeling's uncomfortable, but she shoulders past it, realizing the importance of training this new fledgling skill rather than leaving it wild and unchecked.]

Alright.

[She hunkers down where she is, gaze fixated on the branch held between his fingers. Her brow furrows, the first sign of her concentration, but nothing happens for one...two.....three seconds, at which point the stick bursts into flame, the base of the fire a little too close to Evan's fingers for comfort.

Sorry, Evan.]

[evantuality]

[Evan yelps in surprise -- but the moment is an odd one, as in quick succession he realizes that he doesn't have to drop the branch and pretend to be burned, like he would have had to at home. He keeps a grip on the twig, though he holds it away from himself. As he does, he grins broadly.]

Well, no problems there, except, um, maybe control.

What's the, the feeling you get when you manage to light it up? Is there a physical sensation, or a psychological one, I guess? [Absently he waves his free hand at the twig, which puts out its fires in a little puff of air.]

[strictdiscipline]

[She's startled by his smile, an apology ready to go on the tip of her tongue. Most people don't take kindly to being nearly set on fire after all. And she's too used to strict adherence to rules and regulations, and punishments for poor behavior rather than rewards for good behavior.

This difference is strange, but not unwelcome.

One hand lifts, fingers settling to rest idly at her chin.]

Mostly psychological, I'd say. There's a sort of—a release, I suppose, of all the energy I've built up.

What's it like for you?

[Her eyes linger still on the branch, still smoking slightly.]

[evantuality]

[Most people didn't climb into the fireplace for fun when they were toddlers.]

For me?

Hmmm. [The question doesn't surprise him: the repetition is to buy himself a moment to consider. He's so rarely had to put it into words. He bows his head for a moment, chewing on his lower lip and tapping the twig against the fingers of his other hand.] For me, it's more like... using a limb than anything else. There's intention and then execution, though the two flow into each other fairly seamlessly. I suspect that's simply a matter of experience.

But what it feels like... when I turn my attention on something with intention to light it, I can sense a potentiality, almost like, like a smell or a texture, that something's flammable. Like there's... there's a thousand tiny switches on a thing, and with as much focus as it takes to turn on a light switch, I can turn them on. It's harder, like the switch is stiff or old, if the thing has a high combustion point or if it's very cold...

Oh, it's an imperfect analogy by a long shot. And it's different when I just want to -- [rather than explain, he flicks his fingers up and summons a small flame, simply floating in the air above his index finger. He flicks the finger down again and the flame disappears.] When I do that it's like I'm putting something out there and then setting it off.

Does that help at all?