hugtopia_logs | ♥ September Event Log

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♥ September Event Log

a wide green pasture at dusk with a red-leafed tree in the foreground

September (Ohnir) Event Log
Ohnir is in full swing now and the weather, while still boasting hot days, is starting to cool slightly at night. The residents are recovering after the lightning storms from the previous month and, curiously, most of the robots that had been damaged in the storms are back. They don't look the same as before, but they seem to act the same, still happy, still thankful that the offworlders are here. A few even thank those who carried their bodies to the temples with small gifts of painted stones. Havenwell continues as it always has and welcomes their new arrivals with a few rather odd changes...

❥ PROMPT I: Robot Crossing

a farmer holding a bountiful box of vegetables

Now that all the new and old arrivals have mingled and met, the robotic natives start pointing everyone toward the VR cafes. The bright lights and cozy insides have been decorated with fake leaves and carved and painted plaster approximations of fruits and vegetables in odd colors. When an offworlder comes in, they explain that back when they were still in their flesh bodies, the month of Ohnir was one for harvest and celebrations of the summer bounties. Now, without any real farms or need to eat, they've translated the Harvest Festival into a game, so why not play?

Logging in with another character will net you a little farm and a variety of games to choose from:

Pick and harvest as many Aellyn vegetables and fruits as you can before the timer runs out! The more you pick, the better your score. Work together with your partner to clear the field in any way you can. Strangely, once you finish clearing a tree or a field row of their bounty, they seem to magically refill when you turn your back. Oh well, at least you won't run out before the timer hits zero and with the sheer number of levels and combinations of trees and fields with obstacles in your way to make harvesting a little more challenging with each new level, you certainly won't be running out of things to do.
With a partner, use the giant slingshot to launch comically large fruits into a garden patch of other colored fruits. Match a line of 3 or more similarly shaped fruits to clear it from the field. The more fruits you can clear, the higher your score - aka welcome to Fruit Crush. Stack lines of 6 or more to get shining clear diamond fruits that clear the entire row and snag yourself some bonus points.
You and your partner(s) are given a magical golden pumpkin and it's your job to grow it into the largest pumpkin possible. Why? There's a county fair of course and the largest pumpkin wins! But how do you grow this pumpkin? Well, there are a lot of methods! You could gather up materials and work together to stick it to the pumpkin until it absorbs them and grows. You could do a song and dance routine together to encourage the pumpkin's soul to grow big and bright. You could hold hands and share stories and entertain the pumpkin until it feels encouraged enough to grow on its own. The possibilities are endless, so get to work making the best pumpkin that (digital) fair has ever seen!

As always, when playing the game, the picture and quality seems to increase as long as you're in contact with another person. Once the games are over and your scores tallied, the cafe attendant walks over and asks to see your communicators. To the winners, he or she attaches a little floating charm in the shape of one of Aellyn's weirder fruits. It looks like a cross between a blue rambutan and the hala aka puhala fruit, and it's called the sikheen fruit here. The sikheen are extremely rare nowadays, but their appearance is so unique that Havenwell residents still like to remember it for the Harvest Festival. Enjoy your prize!

❥ PROMPT II: Paint by Number

The new arrivals get to enjoy Havenwell in all its glory for about a week before suddenly, one day everyone wakes up to find the entire city has gone gray. And not a natural, nice gray either, but a strange dull, lifeless gray. Everything from the sky to the houses to the grass to the native people have all turned the exact same shade of graphite gray. Even the natives are confused and the devout flock to the temples while the science-minded head to the labs to study this new phenomenon. The only ones who seem spared from this strange color drain are the offworlders and the statues of the gods in the center of town. Or, well, at least most of the offworlders are spared. A few people might notice that their colors aren't as bright as they once were, or that parts of them are starting to turn gray as well. Those offworlders unlucky enough to lose some of their own can touch another player character to regain what was lost easily enough. Overall though, no one seems harmed by this sudden loss of color, but they're certainly perplexed.

A few days later and round silver platforms start showing up around the city, dragged out of storage by the natives. The first arrivals might remember these as the fireworks platforms that are activated by people standing and holding hands on them. The temple priests and scientists encourage the offworlders to stand on the platforms again and to hold hands or engage in some other sort of physical contact on them and wait.

When characters do as asked, the platforms shoot fireworks like they did before - in brilliant colors instead of the dull gray everywhere. And wherever the sparks fall, color starts returning to the world in splotches. The natives are overjoyed and move the platforms all across the city, asking the offworlders to find and use them wherever possible to return the color to their town.

❥ PROMPT III: Sharing is Caring

a book open with images and words popping out

Ohma's temple is particularly lively during Ohnir and the priests are busy cleaning and sweeping, decorating it with rolls of parchment and digital inkwells and quills that write as if they were actually fountain pens. The natives, especially adherents of Ohma, start to make pilgrimages to the temple in little processions, some playing music, others flying banners. It would probably be far more impressive if the colors weren't still so gray and splotchy, but they're trying their best.

Anyone who chooses to follow can observe the natives going up to the altar and sharing stories with one another. They talk about things they did over the past year or things that are far, far in their past. Some of the stories are happy and result in the procession laughing and some are...well, not everyone came back from the lightning storms. The priests diligently write every story down on those parchment rolls and deposit them onto the waiting altar, where they're summarily lit on fire to the cheers of those present. The more emotional the story it seems, the brighter and bluer the flame that it emits and the louder the procession cheers.

As the file out, they notice you watching and urge you to go up with someone else in the temple to clear your heart and offer up your own stories. They can be stories of home, information about your worlds, or stories about your life. It seems the more personal the story, the brighter the flame though and the more Dora that will mysteriously show up in your account at a later date. If the priests are asked about this donation later, they're just as perplexed. No one they know would have paid anyone for an offering to Ohma, so where could it have come from....?

❥ PROMPT IV: Sleep Sweet

With Ainea's temple familiars finally back where they belong, quiet returns to the city at night. We're sure that first long uninterrupted sleep felt heavenly, right? Although there may not be color in the city, the world of dreams at least is fully technicolor and safe. Which might be weird for some characters in case they don't normally dream or remember their dreams because now everyone is dreaming at night. Most of the dreams are the usual variety that your character always has, but every so often in the midst of a pleasant dream about home or a funky one about flying pizza (whatever it is you usually dream about, we don't judge), there's a glitch.

Out of the corner of your eye or just on the edge of your vision, a person appears. Their face can't be seen and their arms are longer than they have any right to be, but they appear and stand there, watching. Trying to focus on this person causes them to flit away and it's easy enough to dismiss as a random event, until it keeps happening. And it keeps happening, and it keeps happening, and every time you see this person, they get closer and even less distinct. Waking up and talking to or holding someone might help calm that disquiet in your heart, offworlder, so hopefully there's someone around to help you.

This event will run from September 16th to September 30th. Click on each prompt's title to see the text. If you have any questions, feel free to direct them to the FAQ or to the Mod Question thread on the OOC Entry.

Feel free to also use the OOC Plotting Post for planning what your character is up to!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It was as if the star itself had fallen ill.]

[Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest as Ardyn listened to her speak--not the maelstrom of Starscourge, but something at once simpler yet more profound. He remembered, as distantly as a hazy dream, being told legends of the Astral War by their parents. Of Ifrit casting the Meteor down upon their star, and the plague it wrought with its fall.]

[He remembered the ancient Solheim ruins, ancient remnants of a civilization advanced beyond imagination. She had always been so fascinated by them, of delving deep into a history forgotten in all but fragmented legend. Childhood stories that became far too real, and a hero fallen to darkness himself with no gods to turn to.]

[...When Era finished speaking, Ardyn realized he'd been caught a bit too transfixed and moved to leave himself--in his own hurry their paths met and his shoulder caught her own.]

Ah--forgive me, I wasn't watching where I was going, I-...er...

[ She's in enough of a rush to leave, mind a chaotic swirl of memories and regret, that when Ardyn knocks into her she stumbles. It is only her years of combat training combined with her tail, which has stuck itself out straight behind her as a counterbalance, that keeps her from being knocked over entirely. As Era rights herself her tail remains raised in alarm for a moment longer, but settles back down soon enough.

It takes her a few attempts before she finds her words, then another to find her voice. Speaking at length like that is not something she finds easy; it wears her out in a way war never seems to manage. ]

Hello, Ardyn.

Hello.

[He'd put a hand out to help steady her, but didn't call her by name--he couldn't bring himself to say it.]

I'm sorry for my carelessness--are you hurt?

[ Era makes sure to step away from his touch the instant it is no longer required, uncomfortable. That she seems perfectly at ease near him is at least indicative that it's nothing personal — in fact, she makes no move to put any distance between them, despite their unintentional encounter having left her closer to him than what she would consider respectful. ]

Think naught of it. [ She looks mildly amused. ] I am entirely unharmed.

You looked a bit...out of sorts.

[He pulled his hand back quickly as well, unwilling or unable to initiate any sort of real contact.]

Perhaps it was inconsiderate of me to try to leave so suddenly, after hearing such a tale recounted.

[ The amusement quickly fades, and she looks away, tail shifting to curl around her leg. ]

I... suppose I am a bit out of sorts. [ It's a quiet admittance, barely loud enough to be heard. The rest of her words are not much louder, though she makes sure she can be heard without strain to the poor man's little ears. ] I am not wont to speak in front of crowds, but some stories need telling.

[ She gives a quick, reassuring shake of her head to what he says next. ] It was not inconsiderate of you.

Holding the attention of a crowd is a difficult skill to master indeed. That said...I must confess your story reminded me of my own home, somewhat. Would it put you any more at ease were I to share a tale of my own with you?

It is more that I dislike such attention. Unfortunately I am in a position that affords me too much of it.

[ Again, she gives a small shake of her head. ] You needn't share it for my sake. If you wish to tell it, however, I am happy to listen.

I've found myself in such a position as well, in the past.

[A small, tired shrug.] It seems only fair. Besides, perhaps it could be better off spoken should such things serve a purpose in this world.

Will you tell it as an offering? [ She gestures to the altar. ] Or did you intend to tell it elsewhere?

...hm. Fair point, though I'd like to help I'm not one to desire to draw attention. Would you like to step outside?

[ Era nods, more than happy to agree. She has no fondness for any of these 'gods' or their hallowed grounds, and is eager to get away. ]

[It was a little easier to breathe, outside and a distance away from the festivities. Ardyn had always preferred things on the quieter end, anyway. He thought carefully over how to word things or if he even wanted to, and at length began to speak.]

In ancient times--so far flung past that even their ruins have surely turned to dust--there was a civilization perhaps a bit like your Amaurot. Though it was home to naught but mortals, legends say it was advanced beyond the wildest of dreams; that their skill with the craft of magiteknology had propelled them to be almost as gods themselves. They were ruled by the Astral known as the Infernian--Ifrit, who the stories say resented the humans of Solheim as they turned away from the gods or even became rebellious. Such was the beginning of the Astral War, in which the Infernian turned from his other five fellow gods sworn to defend the star of Eos and instead made to burn all of it to ashes.

Ifrit, the stories say, cast down a tremendous meteor 'twould split the very planet in two, were it not caught by Titan, the Archaean. I can not say if it remains upon his shoulders to this very day, but I know such was common knowledge at one point. Yet though complete disaster was averted, it was not halted entirely--for though Ifrit was cast down by the rest of the Six, all Solheim was destroyed in the course of the war...and a plague was wrought upon the remnants that lingered. An illness that seemed to have been contracted by the very planet itself, and all life upon it.

[ Era listens, and she hears Ifrit and thinks that it must be an odd coincidence. Then there is Titan, and a reference to six, and she cannot help but go still. She continues to listen, but her mind keeps returning to these 'Astrals'... ]

The Lord of the Inferno, Ifrit.
The Lord of the Crags, Titan.
The Lady of the Vortex, Garuda.
The Lord of the Whorl, Leviathan.
The Lord of Levin, Ramuh.
The Lady of Frost, Shiva.

Tell me, how many of these ring true to your Six?

...all except Garuda, that's not a name I can say I have ever heard. [He frowned slightly, not suspicious but certainly struggling to figure out where this was going.]

Titan, the Archaean. Ramuh, the Fulgurian. Shiva, the Glacian. Ifrit, the Infernian. Leviathan, the Hydraean. Bahamut, the Draconian. How did you...?

Edited 2019-09-19 04:06 (UTC)

I spoke of Zodiark and Hydaelyn being summoned as gods of the Old World. The six I listed are but a few of the Primal gods of the shards.

Your world must have a missing seventh, for unless your Bahamut is of wind then you've an imbalance of elements.

[ She frowns. ] Bahamut... In my world he was not a Primal in the beginning, but one of the First Brood of dragons. He was the Dawn Wyrm, until he was slain and brought back in a twisted form as the Dreadwyrm.

The Dreadwyrm Bahamut brought a Calamity upon my home continent, though it was lessened in severity by a man who fought him and sealed him away.

There have only ever been six, and twenty-four Messengers beneath them. Most say that the Draconian reigns over the element of light.

[boy looked like nothing was making sense today]

What you describe sounds more in line with the Infernian's rebellion than anything the Draconian would have done.

[~~looks like ardyn didn't read the novel~~]

To remove Wind from the elemental wheel would cause an imbalance... there must be a Garuda of your realm hidden away.

[ Something about the Six feels off to her. It just doesn't make sense. ]

Your Hexatheon should be an Octatheon — Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, Lightning, Ice, Light, and Dark. Something is wrong there. All that I know of the magical elements says the Draconian should not be a part of the six.

[ She waves a dismissive hand. ]

The Primals of my world have all been slain by my hand. Numerous times, in fact, for their fervent followers continue to revive them. It is a nuisance.

...You can't just kill an Astral. Surely they can't have all turned on humanity as Ifrit did.

I know nothing of the strength of Astrals, but Primals can be killed. They are a cancer upon the star, draining aether from the land around them and tempering the minds of their followers. They steal away a person's will until all they desire is to provide their Primal with more aether, whether by kidnapping innocents to sacrifice or a myriad of other crimes.

[Ardyn pressed a hand to his eyes, mumbling something vaguely bewildered in some long-forgotten language.]

It’s...it isn’t the same. The Hexatheon isn’t-...it simply isn’t like that.

They do not bend others to their will?

...

[Considering everything Ignis had said not that long ago, that felt like a loaded question.]

There are those who have acted as agent to the gods’ will, this much is true. But it was so done because they chose to.

And were their choices influenced by these Astrals' wills? Tempering is an insidious thing, and not always apparent, even to the Tempered.

...Perhaps it’s simplest to give an example. The plague which was wrought in the wake of the Astral War—it was named ‘Starscourge’, for that was precisely what it did. A terrible darkness which twisted living creatures into bloodthirsty monsters, spawned from the dark of night itself and repulsed by the light of dawn. To a line of mortals was a holy Crystal entrusted, and one man of that line was blessed with the divine power to heal the plague from those it afflicted. He could save those who were otherwise beyond salvation, tasked by the Draconian to cleanse the shadow over our star.

‘Twas of naught but his own will did that healer work; though he wished the gods’ desire be done, it was for the people that he worked. To save them and only to save them; not for fame, not because Bahamut had ordered it of him. The people were suffering, and he could stop that; there was no greater reason than that.

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