epidemiology | EVENT ▸ EMPIRE OF THE CRASHING WAVE

EVENT ▸ EMPIRE OF THE CRASHING WAVE

EMPIRE OF THE
CRASHING WAVE

The royalty of Guild Ophelia has managed to hold an audience with Empress Nama of the Celestial Mountains, urging her to meet with the Empress of the Crashing Wave in the interest of finding an accord between their clans. In return, Nama requests that Ophelia take two letters to the Crashing Wave's court, where, as foreigners, they should be received better than any of her own people.

The Empire of the Crashing Wave is a week's travel by foot from the Land of Celestial Mountains, through the forests and farms of the Flowerlands. There is no visible indication that this universe was once two, with even the road leading through the Flowerlands heading seamlessly toward the sea.

The farms and villages in the outskirts of the Empire of the Crashing Wave are decorated in seashells and motifs of the sea, and the closer one gets to the city, the stronger the scent of the ocean becomes. Once the city proper is reached, Ophelia's magitek projects words in front of their eyes that only they can see:

Location reached:

» EMPIRE OF THE CRASHING WAVE
A progressive society that values innovation. Main sources of income: fishing, pearl diving, jewelry crafting, shipbuilding. Politically matriarchal; socially egalitarian. Empress YOUMI resides at the PEACEFUL TIDE.

No events scheduled. You may wish to survey the surrounding area.

The city is built right on the ocean's edge, with some parts of it even jutting out into the sea on bridges and piers. The castle, Peaceful Tide, is built high above the rest; guards will stop anyone at the gates and, if shown the correspondence from Empress Nama, will deliver the letters directly to Empress Youmi. Attempts to seek an audience with Youmi will be rebuffed for the time being, so you may as well take in the sights...

▸ A PROMISING DEVELOPMENT

Unlike the Land of Celestial Mountains, men may move freely here, the matriarchal rules of the land only extending to politics. Men and women work alongside each other in all sections of the city, nobles and commoners alike, and even the guards have men among their ranks. In the Artisan District, potters, musicians, and artists line the streets and sell their wares, work, or discuss their craft with each other.

Closer to the Beach, there is a boardwalk where young couples stroll alongside grandparents chasing after their grandchildren, electric lamps bathing the wooden planks in a warm glow at night. Fishermen haul in their daily catch in buckets and nets, trailed by a gaggle of hopeful cats. Beachcombers and pearl divers populate the beach as well, making it a clear place for work instead of play.

A few days after Ophelia's arrival in sea clan territory, a bell rings loudly in the late afternoon, drawing citizens toward the castle. Guards stop anyone from getting too close, though the populace seems to know what to expect -- soon, a beautiful woman in an elaborate blue kimono appears in an upper balcony.

When viewing the woman, Ophelia's magitek will tell them:

» EMPRESS YOUMI
Leader of the EMPIRE OF THE CRASHING WAVE.
30 years old. SPECIES: Human. MEDICAL CONCERNS: Lactose intolerant.

The crowd cheers at Youmi's arrival, only quieting once she raises her hand. She speaks clearly and confidently, her voice carrying easily across the assembly.

"I have received a letter from Her Imperial Majesty Nama of the Land of Celestial Mountains. She informs me that their spring festival was interrupted by an attack from our own people, working without my knowledge or consent," Youmi begins, holding her hand up again when a displeased rumble begins to ripple through the crowd. It's unclear if they're perturbed by the ambush or by Nama herself. Once all is silent again, she continues.

"She has detained the criminals, for that is what they are, and assures me she will not bring this to the battlefield. I will send her an agreement to the terms, but hear this: any who escalate this further will be slain by my order. I have spoken. The spirits of the sea watch over us all."

Youmi then retreats back into the castle. While some citizens cheer their empress's decree, others mutter unhappily amongst themselves as they disperse and go about their business.

▸ BUT TROUBLE CONTINUES

The rest of the day following Youmi's decree goes by without incident, leaving time for Ophelia to stop by the sake breweries near the sea or travel back through the forests of the Flowerlands for hunting, hot springs, or simply enjoying the nature of Hanabira. With war averted and the empresses in communication, it seems as though Ophelia's time in this universe will draw to a close soon.

As the sun sinks down, finding a place to sleep might be a good idea. There are hotels in the city, but for those who are trying to be a little more frugal, the Flowerlands is a good place to set up camp for free. Doro, the Lord of the Flowerlands, has heard of Ophelia's efforts in starting communication between the empresses as well, and offers rooms in his castle in thanks; if war were to start between the two, his land would suffer for it.

During the night, those who accept Doro's invitation will hear a commotion very nearby, steel clashing against steel. Doro and his daughters rush out, weapons drawn, and straight into a skirmish between sea and mountain clan ronin. The warriors are fighting to kill, and in their fervor, someone's fire arrow alights a farmhouse on Doro's property. The farmers need to be rescued and the fire put out, and while the warriors will likely kill each other, they could also be subdued to prevent further damage. Please let the mods know with a link to the thread if your character is killing or capturing any of the ronin.

After the skirmish, Doro must be brought back inside his castle, having been wounded during the battle. He pleads with Ophelia to continue to help, as it looks like a tentative truce by the empresses is not enough to calm the citizens. Since they were so successful in receiving an audience with Nama, he believes they can propose a way the two empires can live in harmony.

Throughout the next two weeks, skirmishes between the clans are peppered throughout the Flowerlands, some leaving bodies behind and some leaving damage to farms and forest. It looks like Ophelia's peacekeeping mission just became a lot more hands-on: keep the skirmishes from getting out of control while still working toward a way to end the conflict once and for all.

▸ OOC NOTES

This log will last for two IC weeks: the first three days will be free exploration, and day four is Youmi's proclamation and the skirmish in the Flowerlands. Your characters are free to explore for the next ten days, during which further skirmishes will occur. If you have questions about this log or the overall mission, please ask them on the dossier. Questions about Futurology in general should be directed to the FAQ.

▸ Coming next log: Peace proposals! Get your brainstorming started now.

▸ Activity Check is due on 5 February 23:59 UTC. We do not accept late submissions, so make sure you fill it out!

▸ Uniform Design Contest is open! Submissions are due 28 February 23:59 UTC. Gamewide voting will be in March.

▸ Bounty Board ▸ Items Page ▸ Exploration Group Planning ▸ General Plotting ▸ February Calendar

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[This time— rare as anything— his smile is wry. Almost conspiratory, though that’s mostly related to the fact that such displays of emotion are few and far between. ]

That would depend on the stone.

[ She nods. That makes sense, more than anything else. And it puts to context the assumption that his conclusion is not dissimilar from hers. That his opinion has changed, but not in the way that's wrong or intimidating somehow. Just a wider understanding.

She turns from him then to continue her work on the debris. It takes a moment to recapture her focus and get a grip on the rubble like she had, extending one hand to help center herself. She still hasn't developed the fluidity with this that she wants. It's work. And something is still distracting her, something that might further contextualize his feelings on seeing her power. ]

Why were you asking him about me?

[There are other pockets of damage surrounding the area she is working to repair, and so Thrawn rolls the edges of his sleeves up to his elbows, shifting his yukata out of the way, and setting his hands to lifting rubble without the use of the Force.

The conversation, however, continues on:]

When we first met, your initial response was attempting to wound me with news of the Empire's defeat.

[A heavy thud as he drops a section of shattered foundation to the ground, leveing a stare her way.]

For a brief moment, you succeeded.

So you found him, another party who could confirm that information.

[ She sighs. She'd ... have done the same, so in that way, she cannot be too pressed about it. ]

And who could tell you of the First Order. [ Troublesome. ] I've never been one for politics. I can imagine he was able to give you a great deal more than I did.

[Thrawn nods deeply, acknowledging her description of his reasoning and motivations. Still, so much of his own native language is intuitive, rather than defined— he lifts an azure hand, the thin sheen of icy, inhuman skin catching the light when he brings it up before his own eyes as a visual guide for her to follow.]

He is...a heated speaker. Much of what he says is projected.

[Contentment or mistrust, anger or satisfaction. Thrawn holds up the index finger of his already raised hand, tracing an invisible line between his own features.

This is not the kind of conversation he would have standing aboard the Chimaera in his full regalia— it's the sincerity shared with Eli Vanto in private, or Colonel Yularen, away from expectant, human eyes that are so keen to judge the unfamiliar.]

There are patterns.

[ Rey stifles a laugh. Heated and projected in particular seem to get her going. In fact, for a moment, it looks like she's going to lose her concentration on the task at hand, but she keeps it clutch.

Anyway, she's not signifying that laughter at all. But at the very least, that she lets some of it slip through shows that he is not the only one at some kind of ease in this conversation. ]

I'm interested to know your feelings. [ Surely the First Order is not what he imagined for the Empire's future, just as the New Republic was not what anyone in the Alliance had hoped for the Republic. This much, she is certain of. She likes to think she knows Thrawn well enough to draw the conclusion. In which case, she does genuinely care about what he thinks. ]

[His head tilts almost curiously, his hand once again returning to his side.]

Explain.

[There's a lot of subjects on the table right now, Rey. Pick a topic for 500.]

Patterns. Galaxy politics.

[ She waves a hand vaguely about it. The answer is really 'whatever' because, again, she doesn't know much. ]

Now that you know more about what is to come, surely you have feelings about it. [ More debris settles and she wipes sweat from her brow. This doesn't seem like the sort of thing that should be hard — she's not using any muscles, — and yet. She turns from her task to look at him more fully. ] I'd like to hear them.

[ Maybe she'll hear something that she can use to give her some idea of how to approach these skirmishes, for instance. Loki sticks in her mind. He'd seen this coming, and she hadn't. There are people who know how to read the climate much better than she can. Maybe it's time to start listening to them, and stop dismissing this stuff as abstract and pointless. She may not be a negotiator, but she still has eyes and ears. ]

[Another nod, this time one of slowly blooming acceptance: if she seeks to learn more, to broaden the scope of her abilities and sharpen her perception, she has indeed come to the right person for it.]

I cannot give you answers that I do not yet know myself.

[Which is why he clings to the silence between them for a moment longer, his breathing going even and still.]

How did the Empire fall?

[ She frowns. Giving him this would mean giving him the power to change it, in some capacity. She studies him for a moment. ]

What did Kylo Ren tell you?

[ On the other hand, it might not give him any power at all. Maybe he does not know Luke Skywalker, or Vader. Maybe they are so distant that Vader's turn will mean nothing to him. Maybe ...

So much uncertainty. ]

Nothing. [Thrawn says, his tone low and grim, the sharp lines of his features angling downward as he shakes his head. He does not need to strain himself to know that she's clinging to the knowledge like a safeguard. That she knows exactly how dangerous a revelation it might be—

But that does not change the fact that it is information he needs.]

So I will ask you again: [The words are slower this time, enunciated clearly.] how did the Empire fall?

[ Something in the sharpness of his voice, the demanding need, puts Rey on the defensive. She bristles somewhat, hesitating from continuing her work to instead keep her full focus on him. This is what reminds her that he is a threat. ]

I told you. The Jedi.

[ She schools a deliberate nonchalance into her voice. An oversimplified answer. ]

Together two of them destroyed the Emperor, and the rest crumbled following the Battle of Endor. They made their last stand at the Battle of Jakku.

[There it is at long last, a timeline of events all extending from a single, decisive point. He knows he's pressed too far the moment her expression protectively shifts, the harshness in his own posture dissipating with one apologetic exhale a few beats later. There were other options, other lines of questioning or persuasion he could have pursued were he only willing to wait—

But it has been days, weeks. And the more he stares into the heart of the conflict here, the more he finds his thoughts lingering on the galaxy he'd left behind. On all that he is committed to protecting, right down to the marrow of his bones and the breath in his lungs.

It is not too late.]

Forgive me.

[It's a reset. A means to bring himself back to the present, away from more instinctive tendencies. His stare falls away, eyes drifting shut.]

You wanted to know what I thought of the First Order.

And the New Republic, if possible.

[ This she says firmly. Thrawn is the only person who perhaps can imagine what it is like for her to be standing on the edge of this conflict and watching these governing bodies run roughshod over the rest of the galaxy. Stumbling upon it and having to pick a side. However, he has more understanding of these things than she does. The nuances that escape her for being overly complicated and asinine are where he digs in. ]

It is difficult to paint an accurate picture of either party based on testimony alone, you must realize this.

[There are no records, no memories or experiences to draw on, only logic and experience and whatever insight Rey and Ren have offered up: the same picture through twin opposing lenses.]

But I do not believe either is a suitable solution for the galaxy's needs.

[ She's about to complain that he surely has an impression when he furthers his explanation. Yes, that better fits what she had been looking for. And strangely, it's exactly what she had expected him to say. She doesn't think too hard on that. Rey has never been the sort to search for ulterior motives. ]

Why? If you have an impression, you must have a reason for it.

[ She goes back to her work lifting rocks before she adds — ]

I saw you speaking with Poe Dameron on the magitek too. I have a feeling you have a more accurate picture than you're letting on.

[Thrawn shakes his head, pausing for a beat before turning back to his own work: clearing out the section of damage adjacent to her own, most of it charred and badly battered.]

I have chosen not to speak to Commander Dameron about the Resistance...or the First Order.

[He could elaborate, of course, but the truth is he's waiting to measure her impression of his confession— or whether or not it matters to her at all. Given her cleverness, he suspects it will.]

Why not? He has the information you want. [ She says it matter-of-factly. Like, if it were her, she'd just blaze in and start demanding things and — And well, that's why he's the diplomat and she's not. ] More than I have, even. I grew up in a backwater. Poe, he was born and raised in the midst of it.

Yes. And that is exactly why it would be better if I did not press him for answers.

For you, the Empire is a distant and dangerous threat, but it is not the direct cause of your struggles. In fact I would— perhaps boldly— claim that it is the Empire's defeat that may have directly or indirectly fueled the difficulties you now carry with you, like scar tissue.

[He shakes his head, diffusing her direct assertions.]

Dameron is not the same.

[ So it's personal to them both, but in different ways. Well, his assessment is fair enough. Rey finds it difficult to contest the fact that the Empire's fall played a role in why her life looks the way it did. He, perhaps, attributes it to a lack of stability in the galaxy (and, well, Poe's description of the New Republic doesn't exactly contradict that); Rey will concede it at least as far as the obvious direct impact of the Battle of Jakku on her situation. Jakku can only be what it is because of the graveyard buried in its sands.

There's something there, too. Something in the way he separates her from Poe that resonates. They're not the same; he's right about that too. She came by the Resistance secondhand. It's Poe's inheritance. She's more like Thrawn himself. She permits his assessment to go uncontested, and for that reason, avoids further discussion on the subject in favor of getting back to her earlier question. ]

Why do you feel that neither the First Order nor the New Republic can be what the galaxy needs?

You claimed to have survived on Jakku by scavenging Imperial relics, did you not. [As usual, Thrawn sees fit to twist the conversational threads without bothering to cleanly— or even politely— segue. Though past the initial strangeness of his habits, it's usually easy to understand that he shifts the line of discussion not to distract, but to further elaborate and educate.]

Tell me then: what value does history hold?

[ Strangely, in this way, he reminds her of Luke. His tangents, though few, had been fervid and to a purpose. And so she waits this one out too, trusting that Thrawn has something he's returning to at the end of this one. ]

None. [ Said simply and with little thought. The obvious answer. ] It was scrap. Repurposed and sold off, as far as I could tell. History's just bones until one day it's just dust.

[ "Let the past die," Ben had said. This doesn't ring entirely true. So she puts further thought to it, clearly pursing her lips and reaching for something else in the pause that lapses her. She thinks of the Jedi texts tucked away on the Falcon, the ones she hadn't been able to let go of, even though she had let go of Luke. ]

Or ... [ And this hurts to dig into because she realizes it's not just about what she wants from the Jedi, but what she had hoped for from her parents. Disappointment after disappointment. ] It tells us where we come from, and helps us understand who we are. Our place in the universe. It's identity; it's a guidebook.

[ These are disparate thoughts. There's no apparent way to reconcile them, and in that way, Rey looks like she has confused herself. Because she holds them both as true, and yet they are seemingly paradoxical. ]

Can it be both of those things?

Yes. [Thrawn agrees, satisfied with the tangled line that is her train of thought as she presses herself farther. To think more critically, to expand on her own horizons.]

Salvage was safe passage to another meal— your shield against the darkness and the cold, even if it was perhaps a small, dissatisfying one. Those that traded what you sold considered it a path to richness and satisfaction; those in the highest places— those you likely never knew existed, who paid rich sums for Imperial memorabilia and technology— saw it as something precious. A part of themselves.

All of these things are true, but that does not mean that all of these viewpoints are not also...shortsighted.

[The last part said with great care and caution; he knows she has long been without the advantage of safety and stability, a luxury that provides sentient creatures with a means to more deeply evaluate the universe in which they exist.]

[ Before coming to Hanabira, Rey had never really felt shame in the way she feels it now. Not red-faced embarrassment, not quite, but rather the soul-deep awareness of her own inadequacies. It is not Thrawn's fault, just as it was not Ben's for pointing out the scarcity of her opportunity to simply relax and drink and stop worrying about survival for even an hour. The shortcomings of her life on Jakku are no one's fault, only fact.

She confronts them often now. When Thrawn and Ben identify them directly, but also when Urahara and Hayame confront her bad manners, or when Scott marvels over her mechanical prowess like it were something to be proud of and not a product of digging through old garbage. It's everywhere.

The debris does not fall, as her focus doesn't exactly drift in that way, but rather it whips suddenly towards the trees, betraying the sharp spike of emotion.

Time to take a break. Her chest heaves with the exhale. ]

So what's the long-sighted viewpoint? [ She asks it openly, earnestly. She does not want to be what she was. ]

It is a guidebook. [Thrawn echoes her, slowly stilling his fingers against shattered wood.]

The Galactic Senate failed its people during the Clone Wars. Content to do nothing in idle stagnation, they allowed countless billions to die in a war that they themselves denied. A war that fed on corruption and greed— and death.

[He had been there, he had seen it. Fought in it at its end, alongside General Skywalker when such a thing should never have occurred: machines forged for destruction, humans driven to hatred for all they endured at the hands of species that were not their own.]

And in that moment, the galaxy suffered.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject