epidemiology | EVENT ★ PREPARE FOR TROUBLE

EVENT ★ PREPARE FOR TROUBLE

READY

After two weeks en route, the Mothership (maybe you should come up with a new name for it?) arrives at the rendezvous point. ALASTAIR technicians rift aboard and get to work, scurrying about the captured vessel to fiddle with controls and levers and buttons. After roughly a half hour, there's a flash of light --

And the Mothership is moored to Oska, tethered to the fragmented universe by strands of magitek and now safely encapsulated in the cloaking barrier keeping Oska hidden from prying eyes. Though Zymandis at large is no longer a problem, there must be teams still out there who are undoubtedly angry about losing their home base, so keeping the barrier up is a matter of safety.

Once they're ready, Audentes can disembark the Mothership via teleportation pads, beaming them directly to Oska's courtyard. There is already a line forming here of curious ALASTAIR recruits looking to teleport up to the Mothership and look around, and in fact, if you think Oska is a little more crowded than usual . . . you'd be right.

Usually only occupied by support staff and the occasional off-duty team or two, Oska is bustling with activity, similar to the sort of crowds seen at the Nondenominational Winter Celebration or Recollection Day. Except now, there is no revelry nor merriment, only a lot of people preparing for something very big on the horizon.

SET

While Audentes was off capturing the Mothership, it seems as though the TIMELINE.exe has calculated the most likely location of its twin, Zymandis's Timeline machine. Rift technicians are double-checking his work to ensure it's somewhere that recruits can safely rift to, but they're hopeful that they'll be able to deploy teams shortly to make short work of Zymandis's mechanical heart.

In the meantime, the technologically gifted are requested to help ALASTAIR scientists and engineers devise an upgrade for the TIMELINE.exe; if his calculations are correct and Zymandis's machine is where he says it is, it's important that its operating system is overridden with the new TIMELINE.exe 1.0.03 file. Otherwise there will be a chance that the universe-purging operating system that Zymandis follows will survive and all the efforts ALASTAIR has made through the centuries will be for naught.

For those who don't know their way around a motherboard, there's plenty of things to do -- with how many teams are in Oska, preparing for what is hopefully the final battle against Zymandis, you're likely to run into a familiar face or two. If socializing isn't in your wheelhouse, hone your skills in the courtyard or, for a bigger challenge, in the training room.

ALASTAIR support staff could also use assistance in the medical center or greenhouse, preparing vials, potions, and tinctures for use in the battle ahead. And if you're feeling really altruistic, stop by the kitchens to prepare some food for the one thousand Zymandis prisoners now filling the dungeons.

You didn't forget about the prisoners, did you? Of the captured Zymandis agents, only a small portion of them have agreed to join ALASTAIR. The rest are either too deadset in their belief in the Zymandis Timeline machine, or they're too distrusting of ALASTAIR to even consider joining up. The dungeons of Oska castle have not been used for their intended purpose in centuries -- prisoners are usually given a simple, heavily-guarded room somewhere in the castle -- but with this many prisoners, there's really nowhere else to put them all. Perhaps if someone were to be kind to them, they might change their mind about joining ALASTAIR's cause.

There's a lot to do and a lot to prepare for, so don't forget the relaxing opportunities that Oska has to offer: the baby squidges are due back on Zeta-12 soon for their maturation ceremony, so give them a warm goodbye while you can; the hotsprings is always a good place to relax one's muscles after a warm day; and the library is available for those who like to settle in with a good book in a dimly-lit room.

Most importantly, take advantage of this time in Oska. You'll need all the preparation you can get.

OOC NOTES

Welcome back to Oska! If you have any questions about this log, please direct them to the game FAQ. You may also submit mission ideas or player plots at any time.

Guest characters will be admitted to the comms until 14 October 23:59 UTC, so there's still time to sign up! We're excited to see some familiar faces and can't wait for you to be a part of the season finale.

We're in the home stretch now, so if you haven't taken the time to review our updated schedule, please do!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Your aim's as true as ever, Hayame.

[says Jin, slowly approaching from the side, making his presence known at last: it's always entertaining to watch the jinba's arrows fly and hit the mark every time, the faint whistle of air ringing clear with every shot.]

You mind some company?

[Normally such a thing would be greeted with an overconfident dismissal, because of course her aim was true. But considering the stretching of newly forming scar tissue over her left shoulder courtesy one of the escaped monsters on the Mothership... it hadn't necessarily been a given.

She slows her canter to a trot, then down to a walk before she finally stops, lowering her bow slightly.]

... so it seems.

[Her gaze drifts down to the three collected arrows between her fingers. Her brother's make, fletched with sea eagle feathers. Beginning to show the wear and staining of alien blood she'd retrieved them from.]

Is this when you intend to show off the skills of your Shaolin ancestors?

[She remembered the word he used, at least.]

[He nods up at her, more polite this time, and speaks:] If you'll allow me to train alongside you, Hayame of the jinba.

[He'd remembered the word she'd used, too.

Jin's response to her next statement comes without words. He reaches behind his head for an arrow from his quiver, notches it in his bow, and draws it back. In the space of one steadying breath he fires.

It's a little off from her aim, but still good. He clicks his tongue, disapproving.
He can do better.]

Damn.

[So he did. Acknowledged, Hayame dips her head ever so slightly. Not something she would normally bother pointing out, but in this place, where to her almost everyone appeared either disrespectful or distasteful by her own cultural standards... even such a thing as a proper greeting was grudgingly appreciated.

There had been a particular student who could benefit from watching Jin, she thinks. (Not that, after their talk aboard the ship, she supposed he would be a student any longer.)]

A quick draw.

[It's praise. He seems to know his craft, possesses that instance of still she had attempted to convey to that student, which meant he understood archery at its fundamental.]

Perhaps you will fight alongside my lord and I, come the next battle.

Thanks.

[Jin draws a second bolt, one that fizzles with a dim violet light; he glances up briefly at the jinba, catching the approval in her eye, then releases his next shot to whistle cleanly through the air. This one lands truer, the aura of poison seeming to nibble away at the wood the arrow's buried itself in.]

It's Prince Ninurrta, right? Your lord saved me once, when the castle was under attack. He's good. [A force to be reckoned with by far.]

I'd be honored to join you.

Of the Noah clan, in whose veins flow the blood of dragons. Yes.

[Almost automatically, she adds those titles and extolled virtue, the habits of a retainer who had long grown used to needing to clarify the importance of her lord in a world unlike her own where people seemed to spit upon class and rank... and also a retainer who needed their lord's identify to impress their own.

Her gaze follows the arrow to its target, notes the sizzle of what she assumes to be poison. What a waste upon a target... but then, who was she to know how common his mixture was. Hayame herself did not employ it, but she was a hunter as well as warrior, and the last thing she needed was to ruin her kills. And in her world...

A wound on the battlefield was fatal more often than not just from fever or fester.]

He is a man of strength and sorcery both. Still, you would be welcome.

[Not needed, of course, but.]

[Magic, rather than any sort of tincture-- he'd explain happily,
but for now, Jin's simply satisfied to know that his talent's caught her interest. Though far removed in time, Jin knows, too, of honor, pride. Those virtues-- be they virtues-- would never truly die away.

He won't fire more 'till he's collected these two shots: turning briefly away from Hayame he moves toward the target to draw his two arrows out of the target, as well as one of Hayame's own. Wordlessly, he returns his to his quiver... and inclines his head in a respectful nod to Hayame as he offers the last bolt back to its owner.]

You were in his service before ALASTAIR?

[The arrow she takes, careful that their hands do not even brush in the motion, but she does not yet return it back to her quiver. Instead, the tips of her fingers slide along the weathered edges of the fletching, brown and white feathers of a sea eagle.

Her brother's make. But she supposed she would be receiving no more from him. What had her last words to him been?]

No. We are of different worlds.

[He had sworn that his father was a man of great power and magics, that surely he would come looking for him... and at the time, he had seemed her best bet at returning to her own world.

Though even as time passed and that seemed less and less likely... his crest was still tooled into archery sleeve she wore.]

[That much catches him off guard.]

What?

[It isn't as if she has reason to lie-- she looks and sounds entirely earnest, her fingertips running over the worn feathered fletching-- but without a window into her home world, or even into her thoughts? Jin would have easily assumed they'd been lord and vassal their whole lives.]

You're serious. [Ninurrta had been quick to win Jin over, too, but this is something different.] How did it all happen then? If you don't mind me asking.

[No one has asked her this yet. How? At least, not anyone she had even a smidgen of respect for. Someone she would consider actually replying to. Which means she has no answer ready, and it leaves her silent at first, staring still down at the fletching on her weathered, stained arrows.]

He was the first other I spoke to in this place.

[That wasn't a thrall of ALASTAIR, anyway, claiming all sorts of insane things that had driven her almost to the brink, so different than the truths of her entire worldview.]

He showed kindness to me when he had no reason to. He is a prince in his world- the sort of lord any warrior would be proud to call theirs. To serve such a purpose... I was bred for nothing else.

[Perhaps it comes out halting, but it's her best attempt.

What would have been her fate, had things gone the way she'd always wanted? A warlord of great renown would have bought her at Auction Day. She would have served him proudly, so well that he would have acknowledged her as a true warrior, not a broodmare nor some mount.

But instead...]

[But instead, ALASTAIR had rudely interrupted that fate, for better or for worse.

He at least has the good sense to not question the warrior's blood that runs through her veins, or not right away, at any rate. Worlds and centuries apart from her, it'd be wrong to impose his own ideals, and yet...]

So you're under his command for the time being. [states Jin, continuing that thought. It makes sense. And, as she says, Ninurrta's hardly a poor choice for a lord. Still, his head cocks lightly to the side as he pieces things together, formulating the clues that would create the not-quite-Japan of a not-quite-centaur in his own mind.] Not a half bad arrangement.

...Are all jinba bred that way? Warriors, yeah. But-- [and he dodges the word servant, because he'd not especially love a hoof to the face] As vassals?

Yes.

[That at least she can answer easily, the only thing that really makes sense to her anymore. Her loyalty lay with Ninurrta, not only because of that initial kindness and familiarity, but because of everything since.

But the next question...

The word "servant" would have been more than the jinba she'd oversaw deserved. She had spent most of her life in denial of it, allowed herself to view herself as better than them, as different than them because she hadn't wanted to admit what she was.]

... most jinba are what you would probably consider slaves.

[She has not told this to... most anyone. It is difficult to say, but there are no ears in this forest that she can hear listening in, and she had fought beside this man. He had not earned her dishonesty.

But that does not mean she can actually look him in the eye when she says it, gaze dark as she stares down at the arrow in her hand.]

Those who are not bred in the stables and raised by humans who will not be broken have their arms removed. Then they are sold according to what suits their natures. Broodmares. Cannon fodder. Bed companions.

[Her fingers tighten on the arrow.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

EVENT ★ PREPARE FOR TROUBLE

02

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject