lifeaftr | March Adventure: I Can Move Mountains

March Adventure: I Can Move Mountains

NEW ISLAND: CAHYPDO

Who: Everyone!
What: Cahypdo appears!
When: March 10th and onward
Where: Cahypdo
Warnings: Tag as you go!

We Turn the Tide
As of March 10th, the mana pools on Ensō and its islets will now allow for travel to Cahypdo.

There is a mana pool situated on E5, to the island's south.

Most of E5 is overcome by a crooked sprawl of coastal cliffs, rocky bumps and swells that make the area a prime spot for tidepools. If one ventures to the region's eastern areas, they're certain to find all manner of marine creatures dwelling in the miniature ecosystems: crabs, clams, starfish, anemones.

If they go east, they'll be greeted by a soft expanse of warm sand. In the distance, the lumpy presence of buildings might be visible on just the next square over. But the local population are more than a little startled to have visitors, and you're bound to see a few curious members of their village wandering out to say hello. None of them, one will note immediately, are armed; either it doesn't occur to them that visitors might be hostile, or they have perfect confidence that hostile visitors aren't a concern.

You can find more information on the Roaka, the inhabitants of Cahypdo, on the island's OOC information. In the meantime, there will be a top-level below for NPC interaction, for those interested in making first contact!

And May Death Find You Alive
Now, we did mention on the island's introductory info post that Cahypdo's landscape isn't altogether stable. The soft sands and soils are prone to sinkholes and even quicksand in dire instances, and those who scale either of the mountains risk being overtaken by landslides and avalanches.

Which is why, on March 15th, there will be a rather sizable earthquake. Sizable enough to cause both mountains to shed heaping piles of slag and debris which may very well wipe out any brave traveler who was currently scaling either peak...or crush any innocents below who don't get out of the way quickly enough.

The Roaka will, at this point, politely ask for your help in repairing and rebuilding any structural damage that has been done their buildings, as well as the general clearing of debris from the farmland at the island's heart. In return, they will gladly offer you some of their food and shelter, assist you with island exploration, and even extend an invitation to certain upcoming festivities they have in mind. Perhaps a celebration for surviving the earthquake...?

You may also use this log as a catch-all for reactions to the earthquake and what assistance you might offer, if any. Or if you simply end up getting in everyone's way. Not that we'd expect that of anyone here, oh no. Not us.

Welcome to the island of Cahypdo! As the island is now accessible, feel free to create new logs of your own, or use this post as a catch-all for exploration! You may also use this log as a reaction to the events on the [DATE] and subsequent efforts to help, if you wish. For further information in regards to the island, or plotting, the following links may prove handy:

[ ♆ ] OOC info and introductory post
[ ♆ ] Trade post with the Roaka
[ ♆ ] Cahypdo on the Locations page
[ ♆ ] Search Requests page

LOGS ● OOC ● STORIES ● MAIN NAVIGATION

( CODED BY BOOTYCALL )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Wash sighs, crouches down, and offers a hand to help Church back up again. If he wants. If he doesn't want it, fine, he will take his polite offer back but he's making a goddamned effort here, it should be noted.]

I'm not sure what to tell you if the armor didn't give it away.

[He freezes in place, one arm over the top of the bluff. At first, he's pretty sure he didn't hear that. But as he forms his reply he's sure he did. There's no hiding the baffled tone of his voice.] Yeah? I'm a pilot but, trained for ground combat too.

[That's a lot safer than rolling out the special operative part of the whole deal.]

What about you?

[Honestly, he was just going to let Wash and Keith do bluff adventures and pretend like he just didn't care about getting up there anymore, but Wash offering a hand? ...Is noted. Is not ignored. There's a short hesitation before gripping the offered hand and helping himself get hoisted back up.]

Armor could mean all kinds of different things, asswipe. ['Thanks', in other words.]

We're space marines. I'm guessing UNSC doesn't ring any bells?

Don't be a dick.

[It's reflexive and rote and not exactly a blistering reprimand. On top of the personality matrix he was based on, Church is, nominally, a space marine, in that he's been led to believe he was one for several years, and most marines have to be gauged from a baseline vulgarity as a standard for general decency.]

[On top of it just being Church, and who he is as a person.]

No. Earth is currently behind the rest of the universe. They have the ability to get to space but not at the speeds or range of the rest of the universe. Long story how I got out there.

[He draws back from the edge of the bluff long enough to double check he’s in a secure position. He settles and waits to haul both marines up.]

Just as I’m guessing you’ve never heard of the Galra.

[He lets the potential for shooting back a childish retort to Wash go.]

Gesundheit. [But not for childish remarks about Galra, apparently. Don't let that keep you from helping, Keith!] No, not that I know of, anyway. Our tech's like...y'know. Colonies on other worlds, big space battleships, repeating laser rifles, cool shit like that.

[Wash hikes up the remainder of the way and stands, squinting at the horizon. There's tufts of grass sprouting along the tops of some of the bluffs, but nothing immediately jumps out to him.] It was 2557, last I checked.

[By his estimate. Which is...also several years past the point where the UNSC lists the Alpha A.I. as terminated.]

So our tech level would be about as far advanced as you'd expect from that.

[He rolls his eyes at the joke. Better than most jokes he’s heard. Keith still waits for him. They’re going this way and thus he helps.]

That gives me a good estimate yeah. [He trusts Wash to make sure nothing will attempt to eat him as he waits. But ever the pilot he has to ask a few burning questions.] How does your aircraft handle, do you know? What’s their shape?

Oh. Wow. That, uh, is that the year? Time sure flies. [Sure isn't awkward! Let's look at the view from here. Yes. Sure is sand and grass and grassy sand and you can see more stuff. Yes. Good. This was worth it.]

I have no idea how pelicans handle, personally. The--aircraft, I'm talking about air ships, not the birds. Mostly I just don't want any of the idiots I know to try and pilot one. They can't even handle a tank. Kinda look like your basic, y'know, jet that ferries people around? The spaceships mostly look like bricks with some angles cut in 'em. Tanks look like tanks. Oh, there are like these hoverbikes that are bigger than you'd want a hoverbike to necessarily be? But those belong to the aliens.

...Maybe Wash should take your, uh, more specific military questions.

[You should see them try, he doesn't say. He hasn't discussed what came after the E.M.P. at any length, and while he doesn't plan on keeping that from Church forever, there's just no reasonable or polite way to go about explaining that his team replaced him as leader not once, but twice. One of those times by a fragmented memory of himself, and once by Wash himself, and is it any wonder that he doesn't want to get into it?]

Nothing as fancy as yours, probably. Pelicans are just dropships, and they're only as good as their pilots. Most of the time I spent in the air was in one of them, or a - [He makes a concerted effort not to look at Church.] - frigate, which was big enough to house several of them.

[A frigate that Church used to run as the ship's onboard Smart A.I., he doesn't add.]

[He can’t help but perk up at hoverbikes. He hasn’t used one in ages but he remembers his pop’s bike. Once Church is up on the bluff with them he stands up and looks around. Sand, grass, the homes they spotted before. He nods with a puzzled look at how Wash is behaving but he follows his lead.

And talks about something else.] Most ships I’ve piloted have been alien tech of some kind. Mostly Galra ships because, [Why not. He shrugs.] I’m half.

All Galra tech is keyed to our dna. It won’t activate unless you have it. They’ve been a space faring race for so long that their ships are kind of streamlined even the fleet ships. They look like blades. Even when you take into account the big cannons at the top of the ships. Never flew one of those. And hoverbikes being alien...weird. It’s a standard kind of bike back on Earth.

Whaaat, that's some awesome sci-fi shit! [church you're from a sci-fi] Wait, what happens if, like, you lose an arm or something, you just use your other hand? What if you lose both arms, do you have to like lick your ship first to use it?

Yeah, I'll just bet that they lick all their ships, because a universe with advanced alien tech wouldn't have developed the science of prosthetics with genetic tissue.

[He's seen Shiro's obviously prosthetic arm firsthand, not that he's asked about it, because charisma might be his dump stat but he at least has a vague semblance of tact. He starts moving to descend down their vantage point, only to immediately step back when the sand gives away in a slow, crumbling skid.]

I guess it's easier to go down than up.

[He stares at Chruch in disbelief. Did he really just ask that. Wash speaks up and confirms yes he did. He thinks back to Galra of the Empire and Shiro’s own prosthetic.]

It’s like Wash said. And if that was the case? I’d just use a foot. [He has some piride. Licking a ship. Hell no. Keith snorts.] One of the Empire’s commanders has a giant claw. It was attached to him by energy. I think they updated it recently. The new version is bulkier and the claws sharper.

Last time I saw him he was launching it at someone like a missile.

[He looks knowingly at Church. He is expecting jokes this time.] Go ahead and make a joke, I can see it coming.

[He steps closer to the edge to descend and studies the crumbling. Wash is right it will be easier to go down.]

Uh, no, no joke, just a wish that I had a fucking sharp-ass missile hand I could launch at a motherfucker.

[His turn to point a finger at Wash.] Do not make a comment.

I'm not the one making comments.

[He sighs and steps forward, because this conversation is officially reaching a point where he's not sure he wants to know where it's going to go next.]

All right. Let's see how stable the ground geeEEEET -

[aaand down he goes!]

[Keith bites back a noise of surprise and keeps his ground. Once Wash is down he steps off after him. It’s not that bad to him. For one blessed moment he can almost feel like he’s flying. He stumbles at the end and recovers.] When you follow us crouch and slip off like that. Should make it easier.

[He turns back to Wash.] Hey. Everything okay?

Jesus! [In a second, he's gonna find Wash eating shit to be really funny, but for a moment it's surprising at best. Wash doesn't eat shit. He storms into a situation, takes control, uses his stupid Freelancer skills to kill everything in sight, and then does more control.

Church doesn't get too terribly close to the edge, so he's probably more heard than seen when he tries to lean over.]

Yeah, uh, I think I got a good view up here, I can keep watch in case something comes to eat you.

[For half a moment, Wash just sort of lies face down in the sand and lets the full gravity of both the world and his failures marinate on top of him. He has no particular aversion to sand, except that now he's going to be shaking it out of the joints of his armor for weeks.]

I'm fine.

[It's muffled and spoken into the ground, but no less defeated. And, eventually, he picks himself back up with a weary sort of resignation, squints up at Church - ]

Yeah? You gonna nail them with your killer aim?

[For half a second, he catches himself waiting for Tucker to make an inane aside.]

[He thought he'd shaken that instinct months ago.]

[Keith stands near by, waiting for Wash to pick himself back up. He offers his arm to him when he finally picks himself back up. He’ll help him to his feet if allowed. Wash is a teammate in his eyes.

Mishaps are things he doesn’t think too hard on outside a mission.]

If his aim is shit he can just hit them with the gun like a club. [It is a dumb idea but better than nothing. But look he took into account Church’s aim is bad.]

Oh my god, don't you get started on this, too, you haven't even seen my aim.

Fine, I will come down there, and I won't have to shoot anything, cuz if I stay up there I'm gonna be tempted to shoot you both.

[The grumbling continues apace, though mostly thankfully under his breath, as he caaaarefully...carefullyyyyy...attempts to take Keith's advice. He slides a little, but does not, for once, eat shit on the way down. He is shit-free, friends.]

I can't believe you went tumbling like that, dude. Your reflexes must be going in your old age.

You don't even know how old I - never mind. [Breaking away irritably before the conversation mushrooms into an argument, which he knows they're fully capable of.]

[That, and he doesn't want to think about A.I. lifespans. Not right now.]

But yes, his aim is...well, it's impressive. You should try to see him shoot something that's standing right in front of him.

...I think I got the idea. [He can easily guess how bad if he can’t shoot someone right in front of him. Keith studies both space marines closely and taps the hilt of the blade against his back.] What about melee weapons?

It could be an alternative. [He takes the threat of being shot not that seriously. If it had come from Lance or Wash that would be different. He turns to face the sea and adds,] Better than nothing.

[He could know how old you are, Wash. (He doesn't, but that's not the point!)]

You're ganging up on me, and most people would point out that it's rude as hell. Also, sure. I could melee a motherfucker. As soon as I fish a laser sword coded to my DNA out of a junkheap.

I will burn stories to get you a goddamn sword if it means that you actually figure out how to use it, and don't just say "swish" as if that makes you any better at it, which it doesn't.

[Someone's speaking from embittered experience here. He almost says long story by explanation to Keith, but then he remembers who the fuck he's talking to, and the blade he's got.]

Yours is coded to your DNA, isn't it?

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