acatalepsy_logs | ( world #2

( world #2 - the storm. )

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a storm approaches.This log is for everyone who signed up for The Storm investigation. Feel free to use the here to plot further on how you plan on approaching The Storm, and the issue. The mod questions thread is also open, if you have anything you would like to run by us.

the investigation.

It takes a day of preparation, and a day of discussion, before you are led further down into the tunnels. It's pitch black, but one of the BGs who you have become familiar enough with turns on a low light and continues further. You walk for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes, and then turn a corner into a large, open cavern. The BG explains that at one time, this had been an underground transportation system - old and unused for centuries, now, but still in working order.

They file each of you onto a single car - it seems to be large enough to fit nearly a hundred, possibly more, bodies - so everyone has a space. The BG explains that they have already input the coordinates into the system, and that once they close the door, you will be transported to the last known location. The car will be programmed to wait for 72 hours, and then will return to this location. There is food and water supplied, and already packed, in the car. If you are not back in the car by that time, it will leave you behind. They then give their farewells, thank you for your help and readiness, and step away from the door - letting it close behind them. The car travels down a pitch black tunnel, and while the inside is dimly lit enough for the Circle Members to see each other and move around without hinderance, you can see nothing through the windows. It continues for a few hours at this rate - nothing to see, no idea where you are going. That is, until it seems to break through the surface, the track running through buildings and another, unknown area of the city.

The streets and buildings are abandoned, the tech old and outdated, windows broken out and dust filling the street. The sky, like back in the city you knew before, is cloudy and grey. But these clouds are different - these clouds are dark in a way you haven't seen before. You travel for another half hour above ground before the cart comes to a stop, and during this time it happens twice. A low rumble, seeming to come from everywhere at once, and then a few heartbeats after, a disasterous flash of lighting - miles away, yes, but threatening and gigantic, brighter and more violent than you've ever seen lightning before. The crash shakes the ground under you, and the damage is immense.

But the buildings are abandoned, the streets empty save for crates, old mechanical bits, dusty remnants of a society long forgotten by the Struxta you came from just a couple of days prior.

This is The Storm you've been warned about.

the storm.

You have been asked to find out information that will help the BG's, and Struxta, to stop The Storm.

From what you can gather, it does seem to be a naturally occurring weather phenomenon, as far as weather systems seem to work on this planet. However, rather than scattered thunder and lightning strikes, it seems to almost recharge and strike with epic proportions. It can damage, or destroy, buildings. It shorts out any and all items (and people) who depend on electricity in any form to function (Sorry Daylight and Conner, sorry to anyone who brought along technology) within a three mile radius.

The 'darkness' the BGs were talking about does follow this storm, but they seem to have been referring to this electrical shortage that comes from the storm and it's strikes. If this storm does reach any of the still-occupied areas of the city, it will shut down the entire grid, as well as any of the robots, androids, or electrically based figures that exist there - essentially ending the life of every Struxta citizen that is effected.

Plot, plan, theorize, and see if you can find a way to stop The Storm. If not, be back on the train car in 72 hours time, to return to the BGs and report what you have found.
PROMPT IDEAS
1.) Discussions on the train - do you have any ideas for what to prepare? Any discussions you may want to have? You and your fellow Circle Members are caught here together for a few hours, driving into a situation you know very little about. What do you want to make sure you're prepared to handle?

2.) Scouting missions - the heart of The Storm is very much in the distance, and it is not moving quickly, giving Circle Members plenty of time to set out and check out the surrounding city. What you will find won't be much - this is a robotic ghost town in every turn of the phrase. Buildings have been abandoned for hundreds of years, covered in dust and left entirely undisturbed, except for the breeze that now seems to flit through this entire area. There are stores, warehouses, apartments, and buildings you can't even tell what they were used for, cleared out. Whenever, or whoever, lived in this part of Struxta had evacuated, quickly but efficiently.

3.) The Storm - The Storm is still a distance away from where the cart has dropped you off, enough that when your 72 hours are up, the heart of the storm and the lightning strikes shouldn't reach the car, or the track. This does mean that to do any closer investigation, you will need to go to The Storm itself. But be careful - the electrical output from these lightning strikes are dangerous, and can have all sorts of effects on both natural and mechanical beings. The wind, the closer you get to The Storm, will also pick up - making any kind of flying or air travel impossible.

4.) Planning - the car leaves everyone off at an old train station, which a large room attached. This room can be used as a kind of home base, as well as a meeting location. What do you plan on doing? Simply taking down information, or trying to take the storm head on? How do you plan on doing that? Will your abilities help? This room attached onto the train station is a safe location - no effects of The Storm will make it inside. Use as you would like!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Except that the space within is not so empty, not so gaping. It is abandoned, certainly, with long-broken windows that allow whipping wind to slip through. But there’s overturned and upturned furniture, or piles of rubble where the ceiling had fallen in. Everything one might expect from where there had once been bustling life, and now there’s only a shell of it — proof in what decaying things are left behind.

And there is one other thing: Connor himself, leaning forward against what once might’ve been an old, metal counter, now covered in rust. A flash of lightning, a rumble of thunder shaking the ground they stand on, and his LED flashes viciously red, feeling the effects of the electrical storm. Even this far out, it rattles everything about him. Processes gone dark for a few terrible moments, warnings scrambled in his mind’s eye. Limbs that feel too stiff, then too useless, requiring him to lean on whatever is near to remain upright.

He hasn’t even noticed Arenvald coming in, he’s busy trying to refocus himself, a hurried soft reboot, coupled with a gritted frown on his face.]

[ He's too busy looking up, up at the ruined ceiling as he frowns at the whistling of the wind, to even notice Connor at first. When he does glance around properly, he spots the bright blue symbol on the back of Connor's jacket first, followed quickly by the angry red of his LED, and Arenvald's heart leaps into his throat. ]

Connor!

[ He crosses the room in an instant, slinging an arm about his friend's shoulders to steady him. ]

Connor, talk to me! Are you all right?

[Not until Arenvald is closer does Connor note a presence in his mind. An arm around him, to keep him balanced, something worried in the other's tone. His first thought is Hank?, but then he remembers this world, the people here, the Circle; memories all coming back in a flash, as fast as the lightning itself.]

Arenvald. The Storm-

[How to explain it in simple terms? Maybe doing so is a blessing, with the earth lurching this way and that, though he knows the ground doesn't move.]

It pulses. Affects my biocomponents, overloads them. Like what happened before.

[In the Library, but this was different. Each pulse was a threat, a timed guarantee that Connor would not survive being in its vicinity for long.]

Edited 2018-07-31 04:43 (UTC)

[ It’s not terribly hard to connect the dots. “What happened before” must be referring to Connor’s incident at the library, and Arenvald will be damned if he lets that happen again. ]

Come on, let’s get you out of here. Can you walk?

[His legs simultaneously feel like dead weight and no weight at all. That is to say, he doesn't think he can.

And, in a very Connor-like fashion:]

I can try.

[And when he does, if it wasn't for the fact that Arenvald is holding him up, he'd have fallen over completely, like a useless pile of parts. The whole of his weight has to lean into his friend, and he frowns.]

[ Connor all but slumps against him, and it’s only thanks to Arenvald having his arm around his shoulders already that he doesn’t go crashing to the floor. ]

I’ll take that as a no. I apologize for your poor, wounded pride, but time is of the essence.

[ What does he mean by that? Well, it becomes quite clear when Arenvald braces one hand against Connor’s chest and crouches to fling his arm around the other’s legs, effectively flinging him over his shoulder to carry away.

And carry him away he does, out of the abandoned building and back the way he came, towards the train station. ]

[aRENVALD

His world tips over and suddenly he's upside-down, or seems to be. What lucid part of him still remains kicks into gear and tries to parse just what's happening. His LED flickers furiously, noting that all he can see is the floor and Arenvald's back.]

What are you doing?

[He asks, even if he knows. He's being carried like a sack of potatoes.]

I'm getting you out of here!

[ Connor weighs about what one would expect, even knowing his insides aren't flesh and blood, so he makes good time through the ruins. Every flash of lightning spurring him onward. ]

[Every lightning flash is a scramble to his systems, a sizzle against the Thirium that pumps through artificial veins. Unpleasant, unwanted, but even as his vision flickers between static and being able to see-

He still can't actually see. JUST THE GROUND AND YOUR BACK, FRIEND.]

You don't-

[A hitch in his audio processing, he tries again.]

I can't see anything when you carry me-

[He needs to know....just what the heck is going on around him.]

-like a dead body.

[ He does not appreciate the comparison to a dead body. Though the frown on his face goes unseen, it’s evident in his voice. ]

There’s naught to see. Ruins and lightning, that’s it.

[Be thankful that Connor is too out of sorts to realize he even quantified himself as dead at all.

Connor presses an elbow into Arenvald’s back. Not to be spiteful, but just so he can try to slightly prop himself up to get a better look around. But the effort is too much of a strain, and it gets him nowhere.]

I need-

[Sarcasm module activate.]

It’s no worse than seeing naught but your back.

[ Arenvald is dressed in full armor, so he doesn't really notice the elbow in his back.

Did... did Connor just sass him? That would be hilarious if not for the circumstances. ]

I'm sorry, Connor. Truly. But I want to get you as far away from that thing as possible. You'll have time to look around once you're out of danger.

[Any sign of that admittedly rare edge of sarcasm is immediately gone, as fast as it arrived. But it’s not because Connor has decided to rein in his demeanor; maybe it might have been, if he was given the chance to.

But instead, the sky almost splits in two with another lance of lightning, the loud boom of thunder seconds later.

It’s as bad as the first time it happened. It’s that rush of darkness that threatens to devour him, overloading all that he is and nearly pushing him over that edge of no return. And Connor thinks of the time he found the deviant android Simon, the feel of a gun pressed against a chin that wasn’t his, and then nothing.

But the shock of fear, knowing that one is so close to death, visited him then. And he feels it again as he’s dragged to the threshold of that void and back, into slow, rebooting cognizance.

Red light from his LED reflects off of Arenvald’s armor. Connor’s gone silent, still — with the exception of a hand that clenches tightly against an edge of Arenvald’s plating. Grounding himself in where he is, as the earth moves disorientingly by.]

[ The sudden silence that follows that lightning flash is quite frankly terrifying. It has him curling his fingers uncertainly in the fabric of Connor's clothes, as he glances back over his shoulder. ]

Still with me?

[ Those three little words are fraught with worry. ]

[The feeling of fingers clenched into the fabric of his clothing is barely registered, and it’s Arenvald’s question that slingshots his mind truly back to the present.]

...Yes. [How many more times will this happen, until they’re beyond the Storm’s reach?]

I felt it again. [-he says, just barely audible. So much that it’s not really directed at his friend.]

Thank the Twelve.

[ Arenvald assumes Connor is still talking about the Storm, but for his own peace of mind, he thinks it wise to keep his friend talking. ]

Felt what?

Afraid.

[The answer comes unbidden, his inhibitions snapped due to the the shock of the Storm affecting him. Afraid, afraid of dying, that little grain of truth suddenly blossoming with all of its sharp edges, shattering through the surface of cognitive thought.]

Fear of dying.

[Hard to forget the look on the PL600 that day. Burned into memory.]

[ What a surprisingly human reaction, from someone who insists that he is only a machine. So simple a statement carries with it so much weight, suffocating in the sheer gravity of it, and Arenvald know this feeling all too well. It settled in his bones hungry night after hungry night spent on the streets of Ala Mhigo, curled in the darkness and pleading with whatever gods would listen while all the while he felt like he was wasting away. It took him by the heart and held fast while the halls of the Waking Sands were swarming with Imperial soldiers, the report of gunfire ricocheting off the walls, comrades and loved ones both left bleeding and broken on the stone floor.

Please, I don’t want to die. ]

You’re not going to die. I’m going to get you to safety Connor, I promise.

[How can he promise? How can he know? The Storm may explode again at a distance, pulsing through his core, stripping away every single line of programmed code, shredding memory, overloading actuators and stopping his Thirium pump. Maybe such a thing was happening now, and the scrambled warnings still flickering across his vision are trying to tell him just how long he has until he’s offline again.

What a hollowing thought. It’s the permanence that scares him. It’s the fact that he’s scared that scares him. It’s just like before, on that cold rooftop, snow stained blue. A secondhand experience now becoming firsthand.

Connor has nothing more to say, nothing to add, as Arenvald continues to carry him.]

[ The truth of the matter is, he doesn’t know. There’s no way he can know. All he can do is believe, believe and keep moving. He says he will get far enough away so that Connor can be safe, because failure is not an option he can accept. New as their friendship is, he refuses to add yet another name to the list of people he’s lost.

He checks in on Connor as they go, asking if he’s still with him, and holding his breath until he hears soft confirmation. The hike back to the train station feels like a lifetime, and every distant lightning strike sends a cold bolt of fear and worry down his spine, prompting the cycle to start all over again.

A quiet thank you to the gods escapes his lips when the station that has served as the Circle’s home base comes into view, and as weary as he is from having carried Connor who knows how far, the sight is enough to make him redouble his efforts. Sorry to any other Circle members who may be inside, as he lays into the door with his foot to force his way inside, crossing the dusty room to gingerly deposit his friend atop an old table, his back to the wall. ]

Oi, look at me. Are you all right?

[The farther away they get, the less the Storm affects him. Sometimes there’s a jolt to his system, another swath of static in a short burst, but it’s nothing like the first two times. Not remotely close.

It’s a blessing. It gives Connor time to detach himself from that spiked surge of hollow fear — attached to a memory that he wasn’t quite prepared to revisit — and time to properly realign all that had shifted and fragmented in his mind. Still shaken, LED transitioned from red to yellow, it’s the sound of the door being booted open that really brings him back to a state of awareness, beyond merely giving Arenvald the cursory answer when he’s spoken to.

Placed on the table, he leans against the wall; his limbs feel more workable, and he shifts, moving his palms against the flat surface to angle himself better to speak to his friend.

Though his eyes don’t quite meet his, not yet.]

I’m returning to a more functional state.

That's good to hear.

[ And it is, but there is not quite relief in Arenvald's voice. Connor is dodging his gaze, so he ducks a bit to try and get a better look at him. ]

But are you all right?

[Little choice but to meet his gaze now, the way Arenvald ducks down to seek it. Connor's lips thin, and he tries to straighten; after being carried half upside-down for quite a long way, he's in a vaguely disheveled state. Mussed hair and jacket settling slightly askew on his frame.]

I'm fine. [He forces something that sounds like stability into those words. Easier to do, now that his syllables don't run the chance of sounding garbled and far away, though it's still strained] Though not a particularly pleasant experience, I have you to thank for escorting me away from it. So... thank you.

[let's just not talk about it]

[ Connor is always so pristine, hair and everything just so. To see him looking a bit rough around the edges would usually be cause for amusement, and mayhap Arenvald will tease him about it later, but right now he is dealing with the very real fact that his friend nearly died. Possibly for good this time.

That thought strikes him like one of the lightning bolts still flashing in the distance, and he slings an arm around Connor’s shoulders, tugging him into a one-armed hug. ]

I’m… I’m really glad you’re okay.

[The embrace is sudden and unexpected. There's an obvious way that Connor stiffens, unsure what to do with the gesture; knowing that it is, by definition, Arenvald showing worry. Concern mixed with terrible relief, knowing that he's relatively safe now, and no longer at the mercy of those bolts of lightning shooting across the sky.

And for a moment, he wishes that this wasn't so— so difficult, all of it. That this simple hug shouldn’t come with a wide swath of options describing how to proceed, how he should act, if he should reciprocate, if doing so will show that sharp edge of emotion that keeps cutting through the surface of who he’s supposed to be, what he’s supposed to be.

Then it hits him. Strange, how androids aren’t supposed to feel tired. But there’s a weight in his body that he can’t describe, and whether it’s coming from his physical state being put through the wringer, all the mental uncertainties cropping up like weeds, or some coalescence of both, he can’t tell.

Connor leans in a little, and manages-]

I didn't mean to scare you.

Edited 2018-08-03 19:14 (UTC)

C with a dash of D

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