lifeaftr | September Intro: Can't You See It On the Horizon

INTRO LOG: SEPTEMBER

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

The island of Nastrandir remains present in the archipelago, just as it has been for the past month. By now, all the kerfuffle of the previous month's events seems to have died down as well. No more shrieking sirens, at least! There might still be an automaton or two left wandering the place, but that's only if you're unfortunate enough to run into them. They don't seem to be seeking anyone else out.

That's not to say these next few days are going to be uneventful, however.

New arrivals may awake at either island. Or they may wander between the two!

Nastrandir: Would It Keep You Awake
There's something staining the skies over Nastrandir - specifically, toward the island's east. A dark blot of something dark, possibly smoke, or steam, has started to leak lazily from some of the mountain peaks and spiral into the sky, prompting a faint rumble beneath your feet. An earthquake? Is this another island with a slumbering volcano to contend with?

As it turns out, the source of this clamor isn't an earthquake at all. It's the pounding of feet thundering ever closer.

The wildlife of Nastrandir is on the move.

You'll run into them in droves as they bolt frantically toward Nastrandir's western regions - as far away from the mountain ranges as possible. It doesn't seem to matter what kind of creature they are: from the relatively docile veep to the pesky pyjacks to the predatory rocobra, you'll recognize all sorts engaged in an out-and-out stampede away from the mountain at Nastrandir's easternmost point with a frantic scramble that one could only describe as terrified. Even the winged creatures seem desperate to get away. Anyone at the westernmost coastlines might even see some of these animals, driven so wild with their apparent need to escape, launch themselves into the sea and, inevitably, drown trying to swim away from the island itself.

It can be unsettling to watch. More worryingly, however, it can be dangerous. It's terribly easy for one to get swept up in this tide of moving hooves, scales, fur, and flesh and get launched into the ocean waves yourself. That's to say nothing of one particular beast, one that you don't recognize.

It's big. It's green. And it wants YOU...to get out of its swamp.

Noinos have now been unlocked in the bestiary!

In all likelihood, you'll be hearing this wandering foe approaching before you see it. The noino is a loud, lawless creature that wanders swamps and marshy areas in a vaguely nomadic fashion, hunting prey and searching for something that might satiate its irrepressible bloodlust. Noinos aren't so much territorial as they are outright aggressive - if they sight something that looks like it might be edible or capable of putting up a fight or both, they will rush it indiscriminately with a guttural, wordless roar.

While inarticulate, the noino isn't stupid: it has the know-how to formulate tools and can craft rough armor from sturdy bits of tree and the hides and bones of its slain enemies. Most noinos carry weapons, though seldom anything more sophisticated than a heavy club or bludgeon.

A noino's impressive stature can reach up to nine feet in height, rivaled only by its breadth and girth. The good news is that its hide, though thick and tough, is more akin to leather than it is armor, and can be easily pierced and damaged through conventional means with enough force. Still, the sight of something large, greenish, and armed coming barreling at you, hooting excitedly and eager for a fight, might not be the scariest thing you've ever seen - but it might come close.

They're not the most cunning of creatures, either. Which is why, when presented with an opportunity to fight, they will promptly forget that they were fleeing from anything - and decide to charge you head-on, instead.

Ensō: If the Waters Rise and Took Your House Away
Some of you remember that the island of Ensō has now well-established security system in the form of bird-like drifts of paper. Some of you may remember even earlier that this security system was crafted specifically to combat a particularly persistent foe. And for those of you who have been with us for a good long while, you might even remember when you woke to find much of the island in the process of being submerged.

There are no wobbling, hulking waves menacing the island and plunging everything into darkened shadow. Instead, the water lapping up against the shore will begin to creep onto land, steadily, steadily, inching along the shoreline in a way that might be very familiar, to some. It moves in a way that water definitely shouldn't be moving...and just like before, it seems to be doing this for the express purpose of seeking travelers out. It oozes up along the beaches, slinks over rocks, climbs up trees, and coats nearly everything in a thin layer of rippling ocean water.

Since you all took the time to make this island secure against all invaders, this incursion isn't going to be taken quietly. Here and there, you'll be spotting flocks of paper birds swooping down onto the watery progression, dive-bombing it with flurrying pages and ink, and attempting to drive it back. If you stay close to these "birds," you'll be safe enough from the water, and whatever it's whispering. You might even be able to pitch in and help by disrupting its path, and fighting the water back as much as you physically can.

But if you're so inclined, you could stop and have a listen to what the water has to say.

The last time travelers found themselves enveloped by the water, they received only vague images that pointed to a definitive goal. This time, things are a little different.

Anyone who gets close enough to the water for it to reach them will hear it: a soft, indistinct voice, whispering. The closer it gets, the more you'll start to hear the words.

"Take up my arms. Carry my protection."
No matter what you say in response or how long you wait, these are the only words you'll hear. It's best not to let it get too close to you, either; if left unchecked, the water will slip over you until you're coated head to toe and you can hear nothing but the soft streams of bubbles and the whispers of that strange voice, until you try and struggle free. It won't resist, should you pull away. But you will find that any electronics that get too close to the water or become submerged into it will react very strongly, with much twitching and sparking as though undergoing water damage, assuming they're not already broken - and those of you who have mechanical parts or are mechanical in nature will discover this a little more vigorously.

The words, though...they're not all talk.

If you follow the water as it recedes, you'll discover that a trail of silvery bubbles will manifest to form a sort of trail. Following it will involve diving beneath the waves, so it's recommended that you divest yourself of anything that might suffer additional water damage.

But if you follow the trail of bubbles closely, about twenty feet from the shoreline, jutting out from the sand of the seafloor, you'll find...a gift.

Anyone who claims this gift will find it very light and easy to maneuver, and sized perfectly to suit them. Whatever material the trident is made of is sturdy and apparently nigh-indestructible. When the butt is planted into a source of water, the tines will light up with a blueish, watery glow. Once they are fully "charged," so to speak, one will find that they can launch a powerful jet of water at a range of up to fifteen feet in either a continuous stream or a flurry of various water-pellets. Once it runs out of its charge, one only needs to place it in another source of water to charge it again.

It's a gift. And, for now at least, it appears to come with no strings attached.

Enjoy it.

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 )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

easier

They can't say that they enjoy this, by any means, but they prefer it to the lack of experience they had with swimming beneath the ocean waves. The mountains are simpler territory. They are not so different from the northernmost peaks of Buried Time, though less steam and, hopefully, less frequented by birds capable of shooting them full of magical bursts of pain and light.

careful
uneven terrain

"It's all right, I'm pretty used to it. I mean, it's been climbing scrap more often than rock, but it's not usually too different."

Particularly in the early portions of Horatio's uncorrupted memories, when he'd been alone, he'd regularly done some ill-advised things to reach what he needed. At times too ill-advised; not all of the scars on his shell are from weapons or weathering. But he'd learned from it.

"What about you? Mountains back home?"

some
to the north

They didn't have to do much actual trekking like this, generally - the areas they braved were paved and populated, even if those old ruins were crumbling and the stairways weren't always usable. Still, that doesn't mean they're unaccustomed to this.

Or unwilling to partake in a challenge.

most were charted
not as wild

"Were they as full of animals? Don't think I'll ever get used to that part, myself."

He glances down, watches the terrain begin to grow steeper beneath his boots. It's becoming more of a habit these days, now that the odds of something tiny but alive ending up underfoot are so much greater. The little scurrying robots that ran across his boots and up the walls of Metropol did not do well out in the Dunes.

some animals
mostly enemies

Their enemies happened to resemble animals in many respects, but that's beside the point. Adjusting to so many very human people in the vicinity had been a strange and unanticipated step in this process.

none where you are from?

"None. There are only robots, nothing else. Some aren't very intelligent, and some are pretty violent, but...we're all still robots."

There is no limit to the size or shape of a robot but available parts and the designs of their builder. Whether alive or dead, Horatio has seen every sort of machine and watched many of them walk, roll, crawl, swim, or hover through the world - or sit towering over their smaller kin. But they are fundamentally alike.

To encounter something else is still a bit like living in a world of 1s and 0s and then suddenly finding oneself faced with a 2.

"So when you say animals and enemies, is that 'most of the animals are enemies' or is an 'enemy' another kind of thing? Besides the usual meaning." How many categories of life could there be? Possibly a lot.

So they are all machines. The Drifter had assumed that Horatio's apparel was simply some sort of protective armor, or perhaps a mask. Such a thing was common, for most other drifters.

All organic life is...gone. Elsewhere, or simply extinct.

It's a sobering thought, but the Drifter isn't one to dwell on it. They're asked a question. They answer it.

sometimes both
some ordinary animals
some violent fauna
some peaceful beings distorted by corruption to the world

Though the lights of his eyes still flicker downwards for a moment periodically - besides checking for living things, there is rather less sand and rather more rocks as they go - he keeps up with the messages without difficulty.

"Hm. I know what corruption means when a machine says it: damaged information, or overwritten with garbage code. You try to run a file and get nothing but errors."

Horatio is very familiar with that sort of thing.

"But other creatures don't have code, do they? So I probably don't have it right."

Perhaps not literally, but the metaphor itself is sound. The Drifter pauses before formulating an answer. They touch gloved fingertips to their cowl, at the place where their throat lies, covered.

organic life vulnerable in different ways
very sick
a sort of damage

A corruption...

They weren't unfortunate enough for it to qualify in that regard.

His gaze follows the movement of the Drifter's hand almost as a reflex. It takes him another second, accustomed to the wasteland as he is, to realize he might be staring and it might or might not be very insensitive to speculate.

For now at least, Horatio looks away from the cowl.

"So it's kind of like a virus, but it can only run on certain operating systems. Uh. Bodies?" If he had much in the way of a face he'd probably be frowning in thought about now. He's trying.

"I guess it makes sense that would exist. And it makes creatures...act like we did?"

'Distorted' could mean a few things, but none of the options he can think of sound good.

sometimes

Systems. Bodies. The Drifter has to stop to consider, again, how best to impart the language describing the world from which they herald, when their partner in conversation apparently only heralds from a world in which machinery has endured.

a virus bleeds into organic life
alters the mind
alters thought

some will act different
some will change
attack on sight

They're not very talented with words.

September Intro: Can't You See It On the Horizon

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