epidemiology | EVENT ▸ WELCOME TO DRAKSTADEN

Entry tags:

EVENT ▸ WELCOME TO DRAKSTADEN

CITIZENS OF TOMORROW

It's raining when Guild Ophelia arrives in Drakstaden, a constant drizzle which doesn't let up for hours. The team all rift in separately on the lower levels, conveniently placed in alleyways, behind dumpsters, and in abandoned lots. They've already been outfitted in their Drakstaden clothes and, for the nonhuman members, cloaking devices, although Imogen reminds them that the cloaking devices will only make them appear human to outsiders; the magitek allows Ophelia to see them as they truly are, letting them recognize their teammates.

The lower levels house the dregs of society. The tired, the poor, the huddled masses. It isn't uncommon to pass beggars on these levels, and overall, almost all of the citizens on the lowest levels are in bad financial shape. There are a few shops here and there, although many are manually operated rather than robotically, making them less efficient and, therefore, less profitable.

The higher one goes, the more wealthy the people they pass appear -- and they will pass many people. It's almost impossible not to run into people, as they're all cramped in a quite small space. When it comes to crossing over lower levels, Ophelia might find themselves actually running into people, as the walkways tend to consist of nothing more than wooden planks, which aren't exactly roomy. On the higher levels, the passages between areas are sky bridges, often enclosed -- or at least roofed -- places with moving walkways that denizens need only stand on to be brought to their destinations.

Also present in the higher levels are the Vakdir, Darkstaden's police force, making them appear analogous with wealth. There are little to no Vakdir in the lowermost levels, but the higher one goes, the more are patrolling -- and if they see you in clothes that make you look like you don't really belong here, you may wind up getting harassed. Everyone knows their place here, so you'd better learn quickly if you want to fit in.

▸ HOTEL DRAKSTADEN

A self-sufficient "smart hotel" with 20 floors, run without human intervention, the Hotel Drakstaden is built on top of a four story building, meaning it's located in the lower portions of the middle levels. Imogen has arranged for Guild Ophelia to have rooms here, though space is limited, so you may have to bunk up with a buddy or three.

The only interaction one will get here is with the lonely android receptionist, Edvard, who is very excited to see you, as it's been so long since he's had a guest! Tourists have stopped coming, you see, although he can't imagine why; it's a perfectly lovely place to live, if you ask him (although it has been a while since he was out of the hotel... why, he hasn't been outside the hotel since the day he was assembled, now that he thinks of it). He'll talk your ear off as he gets you a room, and even after, if you let him. He seems very sad to see you go, and asks you to please come visit him if you have any problems with the room.

Each room contains a smart bed that adjusts its firmness to your movements and sheets with adjustable temperature, a smart shower with a touch-screen LED display of the temperature and water pressure (as well as displaying the date and time, and offering music options accompanied by matching visuals), and a TV that visually scans you, then matches you to the shows most favored by your demographic. Interestingly, one of the shows almost always includes pro-government propaganda.

The hotel is not considered "fancy" by Drakstaden standards; this technology is old news for them. In fact, it's the bare minimum of what you'd expect from a decent bed, shower, or TV.

A fleet of Roombas and Tidy-Bots arrive around noon each day to clean it from top to bottom. None appear to have any sentience whatsoever, just an overwhelming prerogative to clean your room. If you head downstairs in the morning, the automated kitchen's open to make you breakfast, or Edvard has a continually updated catalog of every restaurant within a short walking distance. The same goes for lunch and dinner, although they haven't got a bartender, so any alcoholic drinks that aren't bottled will have to be found elsewhere.

All in all, it's a suitable place to sleep and rest, but not good for much else. In order to really sink your teeth into the city and get your job done, you'll need to head out.

▸ ROST: THE HIDEOUT

Soon enough, your local contact will meet with you: a woman with purple hair and a black, robotic arm that is named Froken gives you directions to a "local hotspot" that people "of your caliber" would be interested in. It's close to the hotel, up a few floors and around a few corners, and behind a false wall in a middle class sympathizer's apartment, but it's there. Froken notes your numbers and suggests you don't all come around at once -- they want to remain hidden, not alert "unwanted individuals" to their "underground club."

The hideout is located in a surveillance deadzone, at the edge of any Vakdir patrol zone and a surveillance drone blindspot due to electrical wires that hang overhead. Inside are computers and half-constructed gadgets, along with blueprints, notes, and more tacked up on the walls or spilling out of folders strewn across a salvaged table. It's disorganized, but thorough; this isn't just a fleeting whim. They want to take the government down by any means necessary.

Froken introduces you to the lot of them: Bjalla, Eitur, Flader, Hakarl, Sparv, Varg, and more -- you get the feeling these are code names, as they stress that what they are doing is treasonous. In plotting against their government, they aren't only putting themselves in danger, but their family, friends, and even neighbors. Looking at their clothing and the state of their cybernetics (or lack thereof, in some cases), it's clear that most of Rost comes from the lower levels of Drakstaden, though there are a few who look to be middle class as well.

The members of Rost explain the state of affairs of Drakstaden, the way the government controls everyone and everything. Those in the lower class are hit the hardest, trapped in the veritable slums of the lowest levels of the city, but the middle and upper classes are victims themselves, either believing the lies the government-sponsored programs broadcast over government-sponsored channels, or otherwise being unable to openly announce dissent. Those who even speak against the government, you see, are often never seen again.

The only way for Drakstaden to be free, according to Rost, is to remove the current government and all who are complicit in the prime minister's iron fisted rule. By the hardened and grim looks on their faces, it's clear they did not ask Ophelia here to engage in a diplomacy mission.

▸ OOC NOTES

Welcome to Mission: Drakstaden! If you have questions about this log or the mission, please direct them to the dossier. Questions about the game in general can be directed to the FAQ.

▸ Up now:

Mission: Drakstaden Bounty Board is now open! Bounties must be turned in by the beginning of the next mission, estimated for mid-summer. As a reminder, bounty threads do not count toward !plot AC.
CR/Welcome Meme is available for plotting or getting to know your fellow players.
Drakstaden Locations are now live! Please leave any questions about the locations on the dossier.

▸ Coming next (Futurology runs on timezone UTC):

26 April: May calendar goes up!
28 April: Next !plot log goes up. You may use threads started during April for May AC.
01 May: April AC begins, ending on 5 May 23:59 UTC. All new characters must provide one proof.

▸ CR/Welcome Meme ▸ Drakstaden Dossier ▸ Drakstaden Locations ▸ Drakstaden Bounty Board ▸ April Calendar

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Alucard finally removes his sword, calmly setting it aside for now. If he abruptly needs it, it can be summoned easily enough.

He's sorting through his humbly sized pack, fetching a book he'd earned in Hanabira.]

I can walk in the sun. It's easier if I have something protecting me, like a parasol.

After a day, I'll have a headache. Maybe a few burns, but nothing that can't be easily healed. I would not suffer as brutally as a full vampire.

[He pauses, then curiously looks at D.] And you?

[Quietly, D mulls this over without much change to his expression. His eyes focus back on Alucard when it's turned on him, in the end. He's still quiet, watching Alucard continue to unpack.]

The sun is bearable. [Which isn't entirely true. Alucard, being a dhampir, can tell: the all black outfit, being covered from head to toe, the high collar, the scarf, the hat. Those are worn for a reason.

The sun bothers him, but he has spent so long conditioning himself against it, that the pain is not much more than an ache.]

The hood is a nice addition.

[Why do you think he has the fancy hat.]

But it still pains you.

[Alucard can read between the lines. His own answers, at times, are as reluctant and half-truths if he doesn't wish to discuss them. D can probably manage the sun better than vampires, but he wonders at what cost, exactly.

The comment makes him chuckle wryly.]

I felt it would help make me seem more ... discreet.

[D doesn't respond, but the affirmation is there somewhere, in the look he gives, in the lack of answer. The two of them probably won't ever escape the curse of their fathers.]

Outside? [It's true, Alucard. Better hide the pretty face down here, or everyone will start to stare and wonder.] What do you plan to do?

[is that also why you wear the hat because he isn't the only pretty one here]

I wanted to observe the people here, to have a better understanding of what we're dealing with, preferably without catching too much attention.

[yea that's why he's got the stupid hat. thot blocker.]

Do you believe the government here is corrupted? [His eyes are watchful of Alucard's face. Observing the civilians unnoticed isn't a bad idea. D appreciates that much.] Why do you want to change it?

[thot hunter d]

Yes. [His answer is given without hesitation.] Regardless of the rebel's intentions, there is undoubtedly a level of corruption here.

People who lack strength or power to live comfortably should not be predisposed toward suffering. They deserve support and protection, not to be shunned.

[Again, D regards Alucard with quiet contemplation. He’s learning more about Alucard’s loyalties, matching them up neatly with what Alucard told him initially. Perhaps the dhampir really will kill his father when the time comes.

Perhaps D can put a little trust in it.] I’m going out again. [There’s no spoken invitation, but it lingers there nevertheless. He doesn’t make any effort to tell Alucard to stay here.]

What will you do when the government has families of their own?

If you are not opposed to company, I would like to go with you, then.

[A fine question. His father, Alucard thinks darkly, would never be so merciful, especially not now.]

Presumably, the families in question had little to nothing to do with what has caused the state of affairs here. Even if they are complicit in affairs, whether realizing or not, it is not by their hand that has made the government as corrupt as it is.

[For once, D wishes he could use the "stay where it's safe" line; however, he's aware Alucard is exceedingly more powerful than the average human. That line wouldn't work here.

Without answering, he nods his head at the request, acknowledging it. Is it the same thing if he doesn't verbally agree, but doesn't dissuade Alucard either?]

They may not be accomplices, but they can exist. [His dark eyes don't waver from Alucard's face. The gaze is intense in the fact it's extremely curious. His point:] Do you plan to kill the officials deemed unfit for their positions?

[The gesture is enough for him. Alucard arranges his hood, prepared to travel with the other dhampir.

The question gives him pause, but his gaze does not break away from D's.]

Not unless that is the agreed plan by Guild Ophelia, or if the Guild is immediate danger from them.

It is not my choice to make.

[After a moment, D stands up again in one fluid motion. He plucks the hat from the chair and places it back in its rightful place on his head, adjusting it, casting the brim low over his eyes. The sword he takes up in his left hand, allowing the cloak to conceal it when it falls over his shoulder.

Beside Alucard, he stops, but he doesn't turn his head.] Isn't it? [And then he continues on out of the door without waiting, though he doesn't appear to be rushed. Alucard likely can catch him at the elevator.

On the way out, a muffled, familiar voice says, "Has anyone ever mentioned that you don't know how to talk to people?"]

[There isn't much of a pause as he follows D, summoning his own sword to his side before he goes to catch up with the other dhampir swiftly into the elevator.

Alucard pauses and considers, frowning to himself thoughtfully.]

And what of you?

What would you do, in a case like this?

[Despite leaving so promptly, D doesn’t abandon Alucard completely. He’s patient, and he waits for the other dhampir to catch up even if he would have also waited in the lobby, too.]

I’m a vampire hunter. I don’t do anything else.

[The answer is as frustratingly cryptic as it sounds. But it is also honest. The squabbles between humans never concern him except on rare occasions. He supposes this must be one, lodging between the captive fingers of Hathaway and Guild Ophelia.

Stepping out in the lobby, he offers Edvard a brief tip of the hat, but doesn’t pause long enough to give the poor guy a chance to prattle. The darkness outside is welcomed, though only present because of the rain. D doesn’t seemed pleased, if he seems anything at all. The rain is a small detriment.]

There is only one building funded by the government here.

[It seems a shame that's all that there is, but Alucard doesn't express that. It's not his place to tell D what to do with himself, and he knows he himself is hardly any better at Life Choices.

For Alucard, in part he loathes how this world is made; those in power controlling the masses who have no choice in the matter. The other, it is his mission, but he knows in his heart he cares, despite frustrations.]

Drakstaden Cybernetics, isn't it? I heard that there was trouble.

[Hm. D looks in the direction of the building. The eyes under the hat are intrigued. The idea of unrest doesn’t seem to bother him. He starts off, his gait steady and unhurried.]

What kind of trouble?

[Alucard frowns deeply, not hiding his displeasure.]

Many people here have their electrically powered prosthetics. [A concept he understands to the most basic level, but he suspects D will understand better.] There is a brand that is no longer being serviced by Drakstaden Cybernetics. The people have only one other choice: the alternative state-sponsored brand.

With as poor as these people are, they wouldn't be able to have their prosthetics repaired. It's as good as a doctor refusing to help someone in medical need.

[For a long time after Alucard answers, D is quiet. He walks on, still not hurried, thinking. It’s not technically his business. Getting the job done has nothing to do with helping the uninvolved civilians.

But humans are humans, and D has a soft spot for them most of the time.

Down the next street, D pauses to duck through the door of a small place squeezed between the two other buildings. A bent, cageless fan spins agonizingly slow on the counter, puffing on an old, leather-skinned woman with white hair. She peers, eyes squinted, at the two peculiar figures, then she returns to her work. The counter by her hands is littered with machine parts and wires and digital boards. Her work is diligent because each of her fingers are augmented filanges.]

I would like to buy your converter and a power core.

[Without looking up, the woman names her price. It isn’t steep, but it’s also not incredibly cheap. D carefully places two stiff, plastic cards on the counter and moves to retrieve both items.]

[The lack of response is less surprising than he'd hoped, he supposes; D internalizes, much more than Alucard does on his own. There are some things he has reserved, but for this matter he feels strongly. People shouldn't be ignored for medical care, regardless of their status or what they can pay for.

Alucard frowns to himself, following the other dhampir inside. D is quick to work on obtaining the items he's after.

But as he gazes at the woman at the counter, his heart burning.]

The people crowded outside...

[They've been here all night and day, she says, exhausted.]

You won't help them?

[She looks up at Alucard, bags under her eyes. I haven't been told differently. Per policy, there's nothing I can do until they can afford it.

The answer does not sit well with him; Alucard scowls, his eyes turning from gold to red in a flash.]

[D returns to Alucard and the counter with a small, five inch by five inch box and a slightly smaller piece of orbed machinery. His sword has been secured to his waist, but the hilt and pommel peek out of the edge of the cloak; this will have to suffice for now.]

Getting angry won't help.

[At the other end of the counter, he sets down the box and the core.] There is a man in the lower levels whose name is Lundberg. Would you vouch for his credibility? [The woman scoffs under her breath. He isn't a doctor, she points out. More like a medicine man. Better buy a coffin, too, if you go see him.]

And Gunnar?

[He's got scrap, she says. So does the whole damn rest of us. For a moment, she watches D, though her fingers still work on her own project. He's lifting the plate off one side of the box with the small, flat screwdriver pulled from a pocket on his belt. It was "borrowed."

The rest of the work is done by his long, pale fingers. Wires inside are disconnected and some reconnected. Some of them take a few tries, sparking out their resistance. D doesn't appear to mind the shock as he doesn't flinch. The round core fits snuggly in the caddy in one corner, and a single magnetic wire slaps hungrily against its side. At first, the box and its innards won't start up. He has to tinker with it a few more minutes before it begins to hum.]

Thank you. [The plate goes back on, and D turns to Alucard to offer it like a gift. It should be small enough to be concealed, but he'll have to mind the switch on the outside that activates it.] I don't know if it will work. The radius is small, about two yards around you. There's a single charge.

It's an electromagnetic pulse bomb.

For the guns. [Undoubtedly, where there's a crowd, there's gonna be Vakdir. Oh:] Don't drop it. It'll explode.

[Somehow when D says that getting angry won't help just makes him feel more frustrated -- but he doesn't disagree. Alucard does want to try to keep an even mind, but it's complicated. He doesn't examine that closely.

Instead, he presses his lips into a flat line and says nothing, swallowing his anger. There isn't much else that he can do right at this point, instead waiting.

He watches D work, admittedly fascinating by how elegant his pale fingers work inside the box. Alucard had been graciously raised by two science minded individuals, but his mother was a doctor and far from anything like this. His father, well. That was more complex in a different way, of magic and science alike.

Carefully, he takes the box into his hands, then looks a bit startled at the explanation.

Ah.

It... moves him a little. To know that this was made to assist him.]

Thank you. [The words are soft, and he wishes he had another way to express his gratitude.]

I will use it wisely.

[D, of course, has his own EMP in a way. Alucard may see it soon depending on what trouble they get into with the crowd. But its radius is only slightly better than what he had given the other dhampir, and he doesn't trust that things won't go sour.

There's something unsatisfying about working with another. He's aware Alucard is capable. Many have been. But their life means more to D than having their blood on his hands.]

Those here risk a great deal even in assistance.

[It doesn't sound chiding or condescending. His deep voice is quiet. The woman huffs again, and the fingers turned in weird angles shift to set right, becoming hands rather than simply robotic parts.

You trust too easy, she says. I could report you.

Unfortunately, D doesn't seem bothered when he glances her way.] It would be strange for a woman with a rebel insignia outside her shop to report disquiet to the Vakdir. [This gets a grumble out of her, and she dismisses them by swatting her hand.

D looks back to Alucard.] Let's go.

[Reluctantly, he admits to himself that D has a point; the scale of balance here is so delicate for everyone. This woman, like so many, does only so much of what she can that's within her power to do so. Alucard doesn't necessarily feel like he's being scolded, but he knows that by comparison to D he doesn't have as much experience in this sort of thing.

He concedes; D isn't wrong. Alucard turns and follows the other dhampir.

A hand remains rested on the hilt of his blade, the EMP generator tucked away inside of his cape and out of sight for the moment.

For a moment, Alucard glances toward D, quietly grateful for him. Not just in his intuitive methods and making a device so easily, but his reserved presence is more than just that. Regardless of their respective lineage, his heart is very human indeed.

It's difficult to ignore the waiting crowd of people. Some of them look terrified to be there, but too desperate to leave; others are angry, shouting, protesting. The Vakdir have none of it, boldly preventing entrance.

Alucard predicts that it won't be much longer until the Vakdir feel validated to use force against them.]

I doubt I need to say it. [Alucard's voice is quiet, but he addresses D.] I've no doubt of your abilities, but be safe, regardless of whatever transpires.

[He's killed for his guildmates. He would again, but ultimately he'd rather avoid that.]

[The gathering is full of as much tension as D expected. It won't be the first or last time he comes across humans battling each other as much as battling monsters, or demons, or Nobles.

There's been many sheriffs and leaders who have used their authority for selfish reasons. It seems Drakstaden isn't any different.] Don't attack unless they do. [As a precautionary measure for them. D is well aware both he and Alucard are considerably much stronger than the Vakdir even with technological weapons. Even in rain, even in sun.

Tipping his head down a bit, D carefully tries to listen through the noise of the yelling. There's employees behind the Vakdir, and they seem somewhat sympathetic in their hopelessness.] They're hands are tied. [The hat lifts just as a thick, muffled boom goes off.

A canister kites the air over the first quarter of the people's heads, landing amidst them. Smoke explodes in one big plume, fanning outward.] What is it?

Not magic. [The crackling voice is only loud enough for D and Alucard to hear.] Hmm--

CS gas. It's gonna burn, but you two should be fine. I can get rid of some of it if you get close. Are you sure this is a good idea? You're not even getting paid.

Get ready to get rid of it. [Those in the back are already beginning to rush by them, urged by those closer to the front doing the same. Others aren't so easily swayed. They're ready to fight.

D nods to the left, but to Alucard. He'll follow.]

[It's unfortunate, that those who want to help find themselves in the situation where they cannot. Alucard had felt ready to lash out, force them into cooperation -- but that was selfishly out of his own frustrations. He cannot hold everyone to the standard of his mother, a selfless stubborn doctor who'd find ways to help others even at the cost of her own safety.

It's unfair of him. He thinks of her, as often as he does, how she might say not everyone can be brave, so be brave for them, Adrian.

The canister that lands with a clunk nearby them earns a curious frown, then his head jerks back when the gas comes out. Despite any reservations he may have about the strange entity in D's hand, he has no reason to distrust it. The gas may burn, but he will not allow many things to stand in his way.

Alucard glances at the other dhampir, quietly appreciating his understanding.

When Alucard moves, it's almost like he's phasing, a trailing image behind him. Despite the wound still scarred and healing on his chest, he'll be more than fast enough, dodging around civilians attempting to flee the gas and the engaging law enforcement.

A Vakdir prepares to strike one of the natives; Alucard stops him by the wrist, forcing his arm back enough to snap his mechanical arm at the elbow, the Vakdir crumbling to his knees and screaming, almost barely comprehending what had just happened. The arm sparks, wires exposed. There won't be a killing blow, but his anger isn't subtle.

Alucard glances down at the civilian, then jerks his head, telling them to run.

He jerks, feeling something hot graze his arm after a loud bang. A gun, not too commonplace where he's from, but he knows of the sound.

The EMP is triggered by Alucard, stopping the guns from the Vakdir. For now, anyway.]

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