March Adventure: Swim with the Current and Float Away

[lifeaftr_mods]

NEW ISLAND: AI'TUOH

Who: Anyone who feels brave...or particularly lawful
What: A city worth exploring, and a people worth meeting
When: March 10th and onward
Where: Ai'tuoh
Warnings: The themes you might associate with strict punishment and rule-based dystopias will abound, along with nonconsensual drugging/sedation for those found guilty in the streets. Otherwise, mark as needed!

The Overview: Ai'tuoh
The dawn of the 10th will see the appearance of the promised island on the horizon. The smooth, even planes of city walls rear across the expanse of sandy beach, but beyond that, no particular discerning characteristics can be immediately glean. That same morning, characters will awaken from a brief dream, wherein the Storyteller will advise that the new island accessible via mana pool - and they suggest, with some trepidation, that you do not make the location of said mana pool on the new land immediately obvious to the natives. It's clear that something has put them on edge, though they've yet to say what.

Welcome, adventurers, to the island of Ai'tuoh.

Our City, Our Rules
Ai'tuoh is home to a sprawling city, built of smooth, sandy stone. Its architecture is simple, precise, and uniform, valuing utility above all else - function to the exclusion of form. The homogeneity of the people of Ai'tuoh extends beyond the similar, monochrome spectrum of their apparel. Despite the gradations of skin color and the subtle shifts in the shades of their hair - all falling within established limits, of course - they all appear to be more or less human. But most striking of all is the stern warning emblazoned across the city's gates. It translates as follows:

May those who violate our law be cleansed in the Standing Water.

The Unerring Law of the people of Ai'tuoh can be found in the library, which contains little besides some five hundred copies of the same dispassionate lists of various laws, most of which you've probably already broken by the time you've entered.

If you plan on stopping by, we'd recommend taking the time to explore the docks first - those that frequent that particular area are rather more forthcoming to travelers. You might find someone sympathetic to your plight, willing to offer some helpful hints.

Holding Cells: Awaiting Your Trial
Those unlucky enough to be caught by the concealed militia taskforce of the city will be sedated on sight of their violation, and will wake in a small, smooth-stoned room. There are no windows, and only one door - and it won't be opening under your duress. The holding cell into which you've been deposited is beyond barebones; while clean and uniform, it lacks even the basic commodities of a bed and bucket. It seems that there's no need to plan for keeping prisoners in the long term. No one drops by to visit, and no one addresses you if they pass through. Your only company is in your cellmates, who you might be able to hear through the walls, provided you raise your voice over the soft, buzzing hum that permeates the air; a magical suppression field, to ensure that those with particular talents cannot exert them to break the law's hold.

The barracks are sorted into clusters of several buildings, each with variety of cells hidden in secluded pockets. To contrast the uniformity of the city itself, there is no such order here; the buildings are designed to be difficult to break into, and even harder to orient oneself in.

Those who are being kept in holding until their cleansing will not be in complete isolation forever. There are a number of militia who patrol the prison areas to ensure peace is being kept...and some might even be open to conversation.

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For OOC information about Ai'tuoh and the city's laws, please see our recent OOC information post!

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Feeling a tad adrift? Make sure to check the Locations Page, which has details regarding the starting areas and a handy map for those who feel better with a bird's eye view!

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LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[byhalves]

[Shouto's been in the cell for - well. Basically since he entered the city. He should have done more recon, should've looked at things, instead of just walking into this place like there wasn't something Wrong about all of this.

One look at the kid, with half of his hair snowy white and the other a vibrant red, it's clear why he was picked up here. Something unchangeable about himself that's forbidden for a reason he's afraid to ask for.

But at least there's entertainment, now.

Even if he doesn't know this song.]

You're going to make your punishment worse.

[Though what the punishment entails, the boy's not sure. It could be anything. The guards seem reticent to truly explain anything, and it's not like he has any context for what they do seem willing to share.]

[yallstupid]

[A similar reason for imprisonment that the two males share (among many more in Guzma's case), definitely. Though the Skull Boss here has more monochromatic hair, and his is a cloudy white on top, and a dark, stubby, black buzz below - yes, it's natural and not dyed - he definitely does quirk a brow in the direction of this other guy and his own two-tone hair. Wild.

Anyway, Guzma's finished up the chorus he was doing and sets the young man with a rather flat look. He purses his lips, hums thoughtfully to himself, and rocks a little on the ground of his cell.]

Mm...you thought that up all on your own, did'ja?

[I mean, obviously, he's ticking someone off, but that's the whole goddamn point? Stick it to the man, first and foremost, but also to try and have them break their own shitty rules. Because the one thing about music is it's catchy, and you rarely even realize you're singing along most times. And how hilarious, how ironic, would it be...if he managed to incriminate the people that tossed them in here in the first place? Would they finally realize, just how imbecilic their laws are? No, probably not, but ore guards in jail than outside it is favorable for a breakout.]

[byhalves]

[It's not exactly the reaction he was hoping for - though at the same time, he's not really sure what exactly he is hoping for.

Quiet, mostly. Answers as well, but if they're stuck in here together the man probably doesn't have any.

Shouto doesn't quite sigh, but it's a near thing.]

You're probably facing corporal punishment. Are you okay with the Water being even worse?

[He's just going to ignore the question entirely. He can think on his own, thank you very much. So many thinky thoughts, many of which aren't doing much good for him right now.]

[yallstupid]

[Shifting in his cell, so his back is pressed against one of the sandstone walls, Guzma crosses his arms behind his head and crosses his long legs. He expected this sort of questioning, to be honest - so many people, shaking in their boots, fearing whatever sort of torture they're in for. Is Guzma worried? Oh, certainly. He's worried for himself last, but he is worried. Still, there are more frightening things that some puddle in the ground.]

My man, I been through some...mm, nasty things in my life already. [He breathes in sharply, exhaling as a curl forms on his lips.] Here and back home. Can't say what I expect these people to do to you or me, homeboy, but I ain't gonna start shaking because they say they gonna give me a bath. These people are bonkers, and so's them rules they got, but they easy to break.

By more'n just you or me. [He grins cheekily.] 'Sides, a li'l bit'a music boosts morale, don't it? Heh heh...

[byhalves]

I suppose such an outlook is admirable... [And whether or not Guzma takes that as genuine or not is really up to him. The boy's not giving much away at all. His face is carefully blank, and he's resting his hands on his knees from his spot against the cell wall.

He wants to ask more questions, but the answers are obvious. Nobody knows why these laws are so strict asides from those living there, and they don't take questions very well. Nobody knows what the Water is.

Nobody knows much of anything, and it's frustrating, but. There's nothing he can do about any of it. Not from in here.]

That was more than a bit. But I suppose it's better than silence.

[yallstupid]

[Get used to it, homeboy, no one in jail really knows why these stupid laws are in place - other than to grip this island town with a steely fist and drive out every inkling of creativity. Heck, they barely realized what the laws even were until they were drugged and shoved in these cells. It's easy enough to see they don't like stories in any way, shape, or form, and questioning their way of life is a wasted effort. No one here has any sense, too deluded by their ways to listen to reason.

To hell with them all, really.]

Ha hah! [Guzma claps a large hand on his bent knee and snickers, his shoulders shaking softly.] If'n y'all don't like it...you can cover your ears.

[byhalves]

[Everything here is too fantastical, too believable, to really be something he could get used to. Not that he'd want to get used to it - all of these rules, these orders, this smothering - none of it is just or right. While he's not exactly itching to get up in arms or tear this place down...

He knows people who would. He's sure if Midoriya or Yaoyorozu were here instead of him they'd already be working out ways to help everyone else.]

Maybe it would be better if I knew the song you were singing. [Well. It probably wouldn't be. He also doesn't know what's so funny, and the pinched expression on his face makes that much clear.]

[yallstupid]

[Wow, this guy's stonier than an Onyx. Guzma snickers quietly again at his pinched expression, enjoying all levels of breaking apart this guys cool, calm, intellectual schtick. It's fun, to watch the so-called 'wise ones' wriggle and squirm in their discomfort of the unknown, the taboo.

Stretching out his arms and turning his head left and right to satisfy the stiffness with a nice crack and pop, Guzma sighs and extends a palm out to his comrade here, his mirth changing only slightly to a more inviting smile.]

Well, my man, it's open mic night. Give it a whack if y'wanna - Iain't gonna stop you. Y'all gotta know some stuff of your own, yeah? Play the hits, my guy. [Sing me a song, piano man.]

[byhalves]

[Oh. Oh, no.

Maybe he should've anticipated this. This sort of weird "well why don't YOU take charge" rebuttal, but. Nope! Completely blindsided.

Thanks, Guzma.]

Uh- I don't...know anything. [He tries to think, of something he's heard around the dorms, but...Nothing's really coming to him.] Your songs aren't unfamiliar for no reason.

[Sure, a lot of the reason is he's a Japanese teenager from some weird nebulous potentially-the-future world but. Still. He didn't have a musical life.]

[yallstupid]

Boy, I know that's a load of Mudsdale crap. [Please, you think Guzma was born yesterday? In all worlds, all cultures, music exists. It's a prevalent force that stands the test of time. Even here, in this world, on this island, music exists - just shunned and buried under the harsh, oppressive force of this so-called justice. It's a shame, so much good can come from music, but then again...the creativity and expression that flows from it is also shunned here.]

If you don't wanna, just up and say you don't. I got a whole playlist, homeboy, and until I'm choking, I'm gonna keep on belting out the classics. Sit back and, heh...enjoy. That is, if'n you don't got nothing to contribute. [What was that term again? The saying?? The show doesn't stop until the fat lady sings or something... Well, he's no fat lady, but Guzma's got the pipes to match the greats.]