lifeaftr | August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

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August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

INTRO LOG: AUGUST

Who: New arrivals, and you!
What: New souls arrive to the archipelago of LifeAftr
When: August 4th and onward
Where: Primarily Nastrandir
Warnings: Mark as needed!

Our lucky new adventurers join the archipelago on a new chapter of our journey, with the new island of Nastrandir playing host to their arrival. With the events of last month leaving many questions in those more settled in LifeAftr, all will find they soon have…other things to think about.

New arrivals may awake at either of the locations listed below. Or they may wander!

A4: Show Me Distraction
In comparison to the warm welcome characters experienced on Io, the land of Nastrindir is not at all promising. The strip of coast hosting the mana pool is a scoop of rock and cliff, and rather unforgiving. To the east, however, it looks as though nearby wetlands leave the horizon lost in a foggy haze. The mana pool is generally a comforting, reliable constant on any island...generally. There looks to be something wrong with this one. The rocks surrounding it are blackened, various spots across their surface almost glass-like under the summer sun. After a brief inspection, most will probably gather that the pool has been set on fire in times past.

More annoying still is the tampering that's occured within the pool. The pool is partially obstructed, due to a blockage of tumbled rocks and boulders that seem to have fallen from the surrounding rocky landscape and toppled into the raised plinth. The choking of the mana water will make return trips to Ensō…inconvenient, to say the least. The rocks are an annoyance that will need to be removed before anyone will be travelling anywhere.

Also of note are the old statues that stand at opposing sides of the mana pool. In their prime, they may have towered a good fifteen or twenty feet tall. Now, however, one has been tipped onto its side, and there are large, crumbled chunks taken out of the other. Both look blackened, much like the mana pool, as though they were also set on fire at some point in their history. Whatever they may have meant to depict has been lost to time...but the parts of them that have survived look to represent smooth, rounded coils of something or another.

It might feel, to the particularly wary or those prone to paranoia, like these statues are watching you. Like they're representative of something else that might have its eye on you, even now.

Or they might not! It could be all in your head. What's way more important is the local flora in the vicinity. The parts of the land that have soil are currently host to some delightful plants that are known, colloquially, as candyplants. And, yes - they're exactly what they sound like.

Candyplants are odd plants that are not unlike a melon vine, except that their fruits take the form of giant candies. The candyfruit is quite edible, though much higher in sugar content than your more bog standard varieties of fruits and vegetables. The variation in the shapes and sizes and flavors is tremendous - some are shaped like fruit, and will have a very similar taste to the fruit they represent. The only exceptions are the ones that look rather like overgrown candy corn, which taste like...marshmallows, for some reason. But they still taste sweet, and they're still full of some of the nutrients you'd expect to find in ordinary fruit!

While candyplants are somewhat less sugary than their real candy equivalents, it's still not recommended that you gorge on them overmuch. They're probably pretty bad for your teeth, if you have any. Candyplants do keep for quite some time, though - particularly if dried, packed in jars, or otherwise preserved.

Candyplants grow in temperate areas near quantities of fresh water - which Nastrandir has in abundance. Most of them grow in shaded, open areas along the ground, like melons; plants that bear smaller candyfruits may instead behave like grapes and other climbing vines, especially when they would be otherwise crowded out by other ground plants. The plants and fruits are quite harmless, though the sweet, sugary smell that tends to linger around areas of rampant growth during hot weather can cause one hell of migraine.

B4: Snakes Are Biting at My Heels
Those who arrive a little ways away from the mana pool or find themselves daring enough to start exploring will end up on the B4 square, which is closer to the swampy environment more characteristic of Nastrandir's inland. The further east one progresses, the wetter and softer the ground underfoot will get, until you're slogging thigh-deep in freshwater algae and muck. It's pretty dirty work, but it's probably more advisable that you go roaming into the wetlands rather than sticking around in the rockier regions. - especially because those regions happen to be occupied.

That feeling of paranoia that may or may not have settled on the back of your neck on A4 will turn out to be justified. Flickers of motion in the corner of your eye, the sensation of something watching you, the clattering of pebbles and rocks sliding down the sloping inclines on Nastrandir's craggy landscape - all signs indicative that something else frequents this region.

And something does. Something large, scaly, and very hungry.

Rocobra have now been unlocked in the bestiary!

The spiny protrusions on this creature's long, sinuous body will make it quite difficult to distinguish from its surroundings; these beasts tend to disguise themselves as the surrounding mountain rock where they live. Mild chameleonic properties allow this predator to blend almost seamlessly in with a rocky environment of almost any texture and color. And, given the size of them, it's very possible you won't realize that you're stuck in one's coils until it's too late.

With thick, scaly hides, large jaws, and venomous teeth, the rocobra is deadly fast despite its significant bulk. Even at their smallest, the rocobra is often as thick as a tree trunk in girth, and can range from thirty to sixty feet in length. Rocobra specialize in draping themselves in a circle, concealing themselves among their surroundings, and waiting for unsuspecting prey to wander somewhere in their coils before drawing tight around them to constrict them into a slow and painful death, so they might be devoured.

The good news is that rocobra only ever hunt and live in solitude; it is highly unlikely you'll find more than one in any one area. Most cannot spit venom, but can deal a paralyzing strike with massive fangs that are just as likely to impale you as they are to poison you. The good news is that they do have a weakness, and that weakness is numbers - when there is more than one target for the rocobra to focus on, it can get hopelessly confused over who it should be striking first, and can be easily distracted and led along by a well-coordinated team or pair. It's advised that you strike it at the mouth, if possible, as those scales can be awfully hard to penetrate.

While the danger rocobra present is very real, that doesn't mean they're completely useless. Rocobra can potentially be harvested for venom, meat, or their tough, scaly hides.

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 )

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There's a special, unique kind of joy she's found in being able to taste different foods. Flavor wasn't a word in her world-it was all based on necessity. Food was food and even unsafe meals were better than nothing. Most of them tended to border on the edge of bland and disgusting. More often the latter. It's too bad that robots can't experience the same tasty sensation that comes with flavor. Where's that spicy battery? The sweet power cores? Sprinkle some cumin on those generators and get something nice.

She'll have to ask someone about that. There's robot candy somewhere and she ponders the idea for a second or two, as she takes the candy fruit back from him to pocket for safekeeping.

And she does, at least, notice how careful he is. Like he knows how precious this treasure is and is taking great care to not squash it. It's an appreciated effort and she kneels down beside him, eyeing the plants he's playing with. But if he wasn't looking for candy, then-

"Do you have stuff like that here? Do you need more batteries? Is that what you're looking for?"

It is something of a trade-off between each of their species and homeworlds. If the 'flavor' of energy is never somehow better or more fun than usual, it is at least also never worse. It is simply the same, from day to day. Based on necessity is the part they have in common, and to not starve remains the limit of Horatio's imagination.

"No, no, I'm all right. Whatever they do to let machines take energy from the mana pools, they did it to me too. This is for making things." A brief pause. "I hope. I've never made anything from plants before, they don't grow back in the Dunes."

He reaches out again, examining the stem of a reed without pulling it. It bends slightly between his fingers, but not far enough; any further and it will snap in half. He lets it go instead.

"There's a book that says you can make rope if you find the right plants, though, so that's the project." And then there's a sound like a sigh from his eternally rusty-sounding old voice box. "I don't suppose you've made things with plants already?"

This is her time to shine. Their project is one she knows a bit about-not rope specifically. She can't make that. She doesn't have the ability or disciplined concentration to see it through, even if someone took the time to teach her. He would have better luck with-

"No, but I think Tim can. He can do things like that. I think he can make anything."

He can whittle incredible, fun things out of wood. Create a building where people gather and relax practically from scratch. He can cook, figure out how to use fireworks-what's making some rope? It'd be easy. Probably. She has no clue, honestly.

So instead, she places her hands against the reeds, gently running her fingers over it, smacking her palms against the swamp water so it kinda splashes everywhere, oops, and digs deep, deep, deep into the muddy water. She manages to pull up some nasty soggy grass that won't be of any benefit to rope. Weh.

"And I know how to make something very special out of plants. Do you want me to make one for you?"

He makes a quiet sort of hm sound at her suggestion, as one does when acknowledging such a thing while still distracted by practicalities. Indeed, if it turns out he can't track down a decent supply of materials in a timely manner, going back and tracking down someone who knows more about locating them than he does isn't a bad plan.

Somewhere just past the middle of that train of thought there's a sudden splash of swamp water and he tenses like a startled cat in the presence of a dropped shoe, letting out a surprised "Wh-" that never quite makes it to what. No harm done, of course; his coat is certainly many years past new and has survived worse. But it's a low-key undignified moment.

Recovering, he turns his head, blinking as she rummages down in the water. He can't tell if what she pulls up was already dead or not - to find a good amount of suitable plants he also doesn't have to kill would be ideal - but it does look rather questionable.

"Uh," he says for the second time that day, caught somewhere between his common sense and the fact that this human has only ever been kind to him. "All right...can I ask what it is?"

"It's a surprise."

And boy, that thought probably isn't comforting, when he's in the middle of an unknown land, faced with a terrifying situation and his only companion is human kid who doesn't seem to be worried about any of it. No, her biggest concern right now is-

Seeing if he'll close his eyes.

So she shuts her own, places her hands over her face, and then removes them to see if he gets it.

"It's a quiet surprise," As if that makes any sense. "And I can make them very fast, so you don't have to shut your eyes for a long time."

Indeed it isn't comforting, to his survivor's sensibilities or his remaining dignity. The lights of his eyes do not quite fill all the space behind his optic lenses, and so there is room enough for them to widen slightly.

"You-" Horatio begins, sounding a little strangled. Stops. Isn't certain where he was going with that. In another time and place and to another voice, he'd know. He'd answer gruffly about priorities, be called lame and an old grump who hates surprises and fun, and on it would go like it always did...though not always, anymore.

His gaze twitches downwards to the mud, then off to the left somewhere. His fingers flex, a little uneasily. Perhaps he'd already known what he would say, but he finds he feels profoundly out of his depth in saying it. "All right," he says again, though with some difficulty. Then a third time: "All right, fine, I will. If it isn't for a long time."

Though half-certain that he will regret this whether it is or isn't, he narrows his eyes until the lights have shuttered completely. And the lenses stay dark.

All his efforts will be, well, not generously rewarded. It's not a blessing that'll befall his head this lovely afternoon.

But it's clear by her sudden silence, she's at work. The result of this intense bought of concentration only becoming clear a few minutes later, when she says-

"It's done, it's done!"

In a cheerful voice beaming with undeserved pride. This definitely isn't a work of art, but she's practiced over the years, even deviating from flowers when that was too hard to look at. Placed gently on the top of his head is a 'flower crown' with a distinct lack of colorful blooms-it's got everything else though. Pieces of candyfruit, reeds, some algae because why not.

See?? She can make something. It's incredible.

Quite frankly he doesn't know what he expects to happen, standing here in the wilderness with his optic sensors off. Life experience can only come up with this seems like a great way to get attacked (though he doesn't for a moment think she would), or the uncomfortably ridiculous feeling that he's about to be pranked somehow (though he's pretty sure he doesn't think she would).

But there's no going back on it either way, so Horatio can only wait with his general unease until it's done, it's done! He opens one eye and then the other, and what just happened here?

He looks down at his reflection in the dirty water. Blinks once, twice. Looks back up. The human looks happy, proud of her work, and that decides the matter entirely. Man help me, he thinks, and knows that's absurd.

"...thank you. No one's ever made anything like this for me."

That's the idea and, in a sense, is the not rope? It's definitely rope. She will forever claim that's its noble origins until the end of time, because that's what he needed anyway.

She reaches up to adjust the various bits of algae so it doesn't get in his eyes. He can probably see, even without her help, but why not?

"I can make more for you, if you need that kind of thing. That's very easy."

Horatio may never be able to fully appreciate how fortunate it is, at times, that he is not an organic creature. Even the most stoic organic person might find themselves going a little red in the face right now, standing here as aware of their own ridiculousness as he is, but he is blessedly spared.

That's about all he escapes, though; his eyes blink briefly closed again, out of something like a programmed reflex, but he otherwise endures it without protest when she reaches up to adjust her work.

"I. I couldn't ask you to go to a lot of trouble...but I'm grateful for any help."

Help.

Assisting is her middle name. Horrible assisting, but it's help nonetheless. She's going to be the grim reaper's secretary someday-feel bad for him.

"Okay, you can call out with your heart whenever you want. I'll help you. I'll make a lot of crowns for you."

Crowns/rope/whatever he needs it for. If he ever needs it. Honestly, who doesn't need some gross algae covered crown for their afternoon travels. It's fine.

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August Intro: These Days Are Feeling Dark

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