June Intro: Let's Sea How Far We've Come

[lifeaftr_mods]

INTRO LOG: JUNE

Who: Everyone!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr as the island of Ziziphus begins to crumble
When: June 4th and onward
Where: Ziziphus and Ensō...and Monsun
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Ziziphus: At The Start Of The End Of The World
Since Bliss's destruction, the extensive root network they've threaded throughout every inch of the island of Ziziphus has begun to crumble. June 4th marks the beginning of the inevitable collapse of the island as it starts to sink into the sea...coincidentally coinciding with the arrival of LifeAftr's newest adventurers. Between the dead trees surrounding Bliss's empty husk, great cracks in the earth start to widen, the dead god's absent root system leaving vast gaps underground which simply cannot support the life above. It almost sounds like thunder rupturing from the ground itself, wild tremors preceding each vicious boom until gaping chasms lay between venturing parties and the safety of the mana pool - only water waits below, for those unlucky enough to lose their footing.

And if the immense pull of mile wide chunks of landmass sinking beneath the waves isn't enough to suck you down, the heavy rain of debris from Ziziphus's rapidly destabilizing edges will certainly help. Want to avoid a watery grave? What you need to do is simple:

Escape.

Sorry, newbies. If you showed up on Ziziphus, you're in for a very athletic entrance to LifeAftr.

Monsun: Just Like Every Other Morning Before
Adventurers aren't the only creatures on Ziziphus attempting to outrun its collapse. Creatures great and small, from the largest spindlank to the smallest tigerlily will be heading south in an attempt to escape the worst of the quakes. Unlike offshore adventurers, however, these poor creatures don't have a mana pool waiting for them to escape through. Their extinction, it seems, is imminent.

Unless you have something to say about it.

Already exhausted from their attempts to get through to and then actively dispose of their fellow god, the Storyteller will break their traditional manner of communication to announce a potential solution to this problem with a single broadcast to the Stones of Far Speech in a strained, weary tone:

"The mana pools on Monsun are now open. If you are willing, save what you can."

True to their word, characters will discover that the island of Monsun will be accessible once more for a short period of time. From prey to predator, obstruction to catastrophe - multiple species of flora and fauna can still be preserved, should you choose to do so.

Be wary of the psychological effects of both sides of the island. Those who are new to our setting and wish to explore, the island of Monsun has a peculiar side effect to its stark divide: the eastern half is rich in resources, but brings out the very worst of you, while the western half is a tumultuous wasteland that accentuates your best qualities. More information on said island can be found on its entry on the Locations page, or its introductory info post.

Due to these efforts, the Storyteller will not be available for contact from the 4th to the 18th of June. Item Requests will also be unavailable at this time. They will, however, make a rather strained announcement to ensure all are aware that access to both Ziziphus and Monsun will cease on June 10th.

Ensō: I Wonder What It Means If It's Gone
The native fauna of Ziziphus aren't the only ones on the move, it seems. Those who wander the shores of Ensō will be delighted to witness the appearance of creatures akin to both turtles and dugongs drifting through the waters, gravitating around the island's eastern coast, rapidly gaining in numbers over the following days.

Kaleidoshells have been unlocked in the bestiary!

With spring close to ending in the archipelago, these peaceful creatures are looking to make good use of their natural nesting areas; hope you're open to sharing the beach for a little while. While a few braver individuals will make their way to the shores between C4 and D1 to begin digging nests, the vast majority won't be coming to shore quite yet.

They do, however, make a very fine sight around the waters of Ensō, especially in the evening. Luminescent, their rainbow patterns glow underwater, drifting mood lights for the increasingly warmer evening breeze.

---

All new arrivals will awake with knapsacks, their names stitched to the front. The contents of said knapsacks can all be found in your acceptance notices!

As a final note to those who participated in the Test Drive Meme, bear in mind that those threads, if all parties involved would like, can be game canon in the form of dream-like memories involving a place very much like this one, though the layout is considerably different.

---

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!

---

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Comments

[counterblows]

[He doesn't recognize the tech, not by a long-shot. Doesn't look reminiscent of anything Charon might've manufactured. Closest it comes to, in terms of immediate association, is some of the more cutting-edge variants reverse-engineered from plundered Sangheili arms.]

[The unknown stops dead. Doesn't move to attack, doesn't move to do much of anything but, apparently, stare.]

[His finger tenses on the trigger of his BR55HB SR, but he doesn't open fire. Not yet.]

You gonna start talking, or should we skip that step?

[notglitching]

[Not moving. Definitely staring. Disks hum at a bright, high pitch, more steady than the rattling of errors emerging from the program's throat. Wash is here. Here, and functioning—no visible damage, though Rinzler knows the user better than to assume too much from a first glance.

Here, and leveling a gun at him.

Under the circumstances, it might not be entirely surprising. Or, Wash could be a memory glitch. Or a shadow. Or, assuming the same of him. Slowly, Rinzler moves his hands together. If the user doesn't verbally object, he'll merge both weapons to a single disk. Attempt: de-escalation... though the weapon remains ready.

Talking is, as always, a secondary concern. But he'll try.]

Status?

[The word is short, harsh, and faintly electronic.]

[counterblows]

[Status?]

[Well. He did say talking. He didn't bother to elaborate on how much would be actual talking - how many words counts as "talking," or an exchange at all. He doesn't recognize the electric hum, the grating sound of static against the dark dome of that visor.]

[It's safe to say he understand very little of this: what those disks are, what they do, the way they...combine?]

Status? [It's an incredulous repetition, parroted straight back.] Are you asking me how I'm doing?

did we just hit pitchy wash voice on tag three

[notglitching]

[No reaction to the disks. Or at least no mirroring de-escalation. Hard to say what that implies... though another possibility has presented itself.

For now, Rinzler focuses on what he knows. Like the fact that Wash very definitely did not elaborate. The incredulity draws a slight helmet-tilt of Rinzler's own: ambivalence, skepticism—what else was the user expecting? Still, Rinzler nods.

He'd like to know some other things too. Say, what has Wash still pointing a gun at him?

But that would be an acceptable start.]

NGL WE'RE GETTING THERE

[counterblows]

[Well, this just takes the fucking prize. If he hadn't just met Agent Connecticut, the long dead Agent Connecticut, he'd maybe call this the most shocking thing to happen to him today.]

[That being said, Wash's threshold for bullshit started to flower exponentially upon his induction into Freelancer, and has only mushroomed upwards from there. He still has no foundation as to where to even begin with this exchange, when a rumble of the island's earth crumbling underfoot throws him off balance. He catches himself, steadies, and now has to decide whether the tremors in the ground tearing the place apart are worth his attention more than the black-visored whoever the fuck is requesting his status, like he's right out of Command.]

I think we should find a way off this rock, and do the question and answer session after. What d'you say?

[notglitching]

[Rinzler sways only slightly with the tremor, a ripple in the balance of his crouch. His helmet stays fixed on Washington, noise ticking out steadily. Assessment: inconclusive... but if nothing else, the user doesn't seem to be presenting any active threat.

And the suggestion is sound. The helmet ducks again in a sharp nod, hand lowering as the white edge of his disk darkens. Rinzler will wait for the user to return the gesture before returning his weapon to dock.]

[counterblows]

[Great. Well. They can get to the part where the other party is apparently concerned about the well-being of someone they've never met after they get off the island that's literally falling apart under their feet.]

[He doesn't drop his rifle, but it's no longer pointing directly at the unknown, so that's probably an improvement.]

Great. [Terse, businesslike. Unfamiliar.] This way.

[He half-turns, waiting for an indication that the unknown might follow. He knows better than to turn his back on a potential threat.]

[notglitching]

[Not pointing a weapon at Rinzler is good enough for Rinzler. And he can read that hesitation... even if it's nothing Wash has shown him for a while. The enforcer shifts upright: combat crouch replaced with a different slope of shoulders and spine. He won't comment on the user's increased paranoia.

But that huff of static sure does sound like a derisive snort. Rinzler moves in the indicated direction, stepping in front to take lead.]

[counterblows]

[Taking point on their collective behalf. That’s nice of him.]

Figured out how travel works here. There’s these artifacts - I guess you call them “mana pools” - and they’ll take you off this island at least. [Or right back onto it, if that’s your prerogative. It was Wash’s for a reason, though not a reason he’s eager to get into with someone who equates to a stranger.]

[Sorry, Rinzler, buddy.]

[notglitching]

[He doesn't call them mana pools. He doesn't call them anything. Still, the phrase is... naggingly familiar. As if he heard it in a dream.

Something to consider? Probably not. Wash's view of Rinzler's back (and the sigil framed neatly on his disk dock) will interrupt with a slight backwards twitch of the helmet.]

Portals.

[Like the Ingress.]

[counterblows]

[At the moment, Wash is largely unaware of the fact that the same symbol is engraved on the back of his own armor, and thus assumes that the sigil is just...part of the guy's suit. It seems familiar in the abstract sense, like maybe it was touched on in a dream, but - ]

[File that away. You can play memory tag later, Washington, when you're not trying to keep someone else alive.]

In a sense. They need flowers to work. [And, in muttered assurance to himself as well as to the other party:] Yes, really.

[notglitching]

[Considering the way Rinzler's mask stills, half-turned back as if the sheer skepticism in his stare could burn through both their visors... that probably was an assurance worth making. The low rumbling skips again, steps slowing with a pointed glance towards a cluster of colorful vegetation they've started to walk past.

Flowers like those?]

[counterblows]

Oh, don't get on my case about it. I didn't make the rules. I just figured out how they work.

[For a moment, the alacrity with which he can answer, snap that back across the distance of more or less complete silence - startles him. For half a second, he's speaking to the golden dome of an EVA helmet, that mass of white slashed through with drying blood.]

[Think of Maine, and then don't. Stop thinking of Maine. Stop thinking of Maine the way you stopped thinking of C.T.]

They're by the pools. Portals. Whatever you wanna call them.

[notglitching]

[Oh, the irritated griping is familiar. More than most of Wash's reactions—but if Rinzler's begun to suspect a cause for that, it's not enough to stop him from returning his retort. The enforcer's helmet cants at a precise, skeptical angle, sound rising and falling with another skip of static.

If you say so.

The enforcer's list of queries has grown considerably, but he'll hold them in reserve for now. He continues in the indicated direction, rapidly (and acrobatically) clearing any obstacles along the way.]

[counterblows]

[The reflex to hold a conversation with a mostly silent other party never really goes away, it seems. Aches like a copper tinge on the roof of his mouth and behind his teeth and he swallows it back and keeps going, and - ]

[Why is he somersaulting? Why is he...doing anything?]

Are you always this much of a show-off?