The Revival Project Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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revivalproject2020-04-03 09:29 am
trpmods) wrote in revivalproject2020-04-03 09:29 am
Whale Comb Home Party! (Open to all players)
WHO: All He Rows!
WHERE: The Amphitheater (Blue 1)
WHAT: The Agrii have thrown our heroes a Whale Comb Home party; you can also choose to use this as a forum for discussing theories and more.
WHEN: April 2
WARNINGS: Please mark any warnings in individual threads
On April 2, as soon as the light starts rising in the morning, you hear music. It’s loud and odd. The notes don’t actually make a lot of sense together; they slide up and down and alternate wildly. It’s the sort of symphony a child at a piano might make except with a cacophony of instruments. It fills the air with cheery, disjointed music as it floats out from the amphitheater, beckoning you there but, this time, not at all compelling.
On your comm you will see a message from Ga Re:
He Rows,
We whale comb you here a gain. Agrii have food at mew sick home. Go with mew sick. Part tea for all. Also learn time. Agrii need learn storm. Us need learn all he rows learn. Us hear all. Talk at mew sick home. We learn. You learn. All learn and stop storms!
Thank all yous.
- Ga Re
If you choose to enter the amphitheater, heroes who arrived in the first wave might recognize the scene:
Hanging against one crumbling wall is a piece of fabric that has ‘WHALE COMB HOME!’ painted on it in drippy, fluorescent pink letters. The Agrii version of a smiley face that you've come to know and love is painted underneath it right on the wall. ‘US THANK THEY!’ is written beside it. Scattered through the wide space are tables upon tables of food.
There are meats, fruits, root vegetables, and even what might be a sweet dessert of some sort as well. Characters with the Agriculture expertise - and those who have attended one of these parties before - will know that everything is edible and nothing will make you sick. But some of it might have … adverse effects:
- People chomping down on the striped meat all seem to get very drowsy a few minutes later.
- The red fruit that looks like a giant cherry is the equivalent of a few shots - the more consumed, the more drunken this party is getting.
- There is a bowl of weeds that have small, daisy-like flowers all along the stalks. This tastes like chicken and gives the eater a sudden burst of energy that will have them running around the room like they’re being chased.
-There are a collection of drinks, some made from the red fruit, some that are clearly water, some that taste like a less-sweet lemonade with no effects, and then there's a blue one that tastes like an especially dark beer. People drinking this will find themselves incapable of lying for a half hour.
Enjoy your party, heroes. But also heed what Ga Re said: This is an ideal time to talk with one another and compare whatever you’ve managed to learn. Think of it like a town hall where whatever you learned on Risa or in the storm can be spread around and analyzed.
WHERE: The Amphitheater (Blue 1)
WHAT: The Agrii have thrown our heroes a Whale Comb Home party; you can also choose to use this as a forum for discussing theories and more.
WHEN: April 2
WARNINGS: Please mark any warnings in individual threads
On April 2, as soon as the light starts rising in the morning, you hear music. It’s loud and odd. The notes don’t actually make a lot of sense together; they slide up and down and alternate wildly. It’s the sort of symphony a child at a piano might make except with a cacophony of instruments. It fills the air with cheery, disjointed music as it floats out from the amphitheater, beckoning you there but, this time, not at all compelling.
On your comm you will see a message from Ga Re:
He Rows,
We whale comb you here a gain. Agrii have food at mew sick home. Go with mew sick. Part tea for all. Also learn time. Agrii need learn storm. Us need learn all he rows learn. Us hear all. Talk at mew sick home. We learn. You learn. All learn and stop storms!
Thank all yous.
- Ga Re
If you choose to enter the amphitheater, heroes who arrived in the first wave might recognize the scene:
Hanging against one crumbling wall is a piece of fabric that has ‘WHALE COMB HOME!’ painted on it in drippy, fluorescent pink letters. The Agrii version of a smiley face that you've come to know and love is painted underneath it right on the wall. ‘US THANK THEY!’ is written beside it. Scattered through the wide space are tables upon tables of food.
There are meats, fruits, root vegetables, and even what might be a sweet dessert of some sort as well. Characters with the Agriculture expertise - and those who have attended one of these parties before - will know that everything is edible and nothing will make you sick. But some of it might have … adverse effects:
- People chomping down on the striped meat all seem to get very drowsy a few minutes later.
- The red fruit that looks like a giant cherry is the equivalent of a few shots - the more consumed, the more drunken this party is getting.
- There is a bowl of weeds that have small, daisy-like flowers all along the stalks. This tastes like chicken and gives the eater a sudden burst of energy that will have them running around the room like they’re being chased.
-There are a collection of drinks, some made from the red fruit, some that are clearly water, some that taste like a less-sweet lemonade with no effects, and then there's a blue one that tastes like an especially dark beer. People drinking this will find themselves incapable of lying for a half hour.
Enjoy your party, heroes. But also heed what Ga Re said: This is an ideal time to talk with one another and compare whatever you’ve managed to learn. Think of it like a town hall where whatever you learned on Risa or in the storm can be spread around and analyzed.
no subject
Jon has decided he doesn't want to go to the amphitheater the moment he has noticed it. Which unfortunately came along with noticing its closeness to the hospital for which he has already volunteered whatever help he can be. When the music starts, however, he nearly drops his tea. And while there maybe isn't anything compelling in it for everyone else, there simply is no way for him not to plain need to know. The message of course doesn't help.
And so against all former resolutions and despite that tight knot of dread curling tighter and tighter within himself, he goes.
He instantly doesn't like it. Making a seething noise, he pulls up his recorder a moment after entering, muttering to it with obvious irritation.
"I followed Ga Re's invitation and- I don't like it. Maybe they mean well, but this is a headache in the making. At least there are no- Hold on." He lowers the recorder and turns to the nearest person, not any less irritated than just a moment before "Excuse me. Does this happen regularly?"
B - You learn. - He teach!
If you haven't met your local Archivist yet, then maybe this isn't the time to get the best first impression of him. It may simply be the music grating on his nerves or maybe it's the perfectly harmless looking fruit he has dared to try, but at some point he has decided to clear off a table and drag it over to the wall where the banner has been pinned up. Now standing on said table with a red marker in one hand and using the other to hold the fabric steady, he begins to correct the misspelling while rambling on to seemingly no one in particular. His tone hasn't really gotten any less irritated ever since he arrived. If anything, the man appears even more aggravated.
"What you're looking for is the term welcome. If you watch closely, I will demonstrate its spelling for you. Apparently you are at least remotely familiar with what it sounds like, but whales and combs are in no way related to the greeting you were attempting to deliver. Whales, for one, are a widely distributed and diverse group of fully aquatic placental marine mammals. A comb is a tool consisting of a shaft that holds a row of teeth for pulling through the hair to clean, untangle, or style it. Now you may neither be familiar with common animals on Earth, nor hair in general. I am admittedly surprised that you managed not to misspell home. Though I have doubts that this is due to understanding rather than mere luck."
And as he rambles on, Jon will slowly yet decidedly work his way through writing over the banner in big, red marker letters. Which of course means he will have to climb down from his table and move it.
Feel free to interrupt his lecture or wait for him to finish. He still has some letters left to paint, though it may get obvious quickly enough that the banner doesn't gain much more legibility through his actions.
C - Great Life Choices™ including Alien Food!
And they do look harmless? Like actual cherries once one gets past their size?
But now that the initial effect is dwindling, Jon can't help but feel remotely sick. And tired. Having stepped outside for some fresh air, he has found the remainder of what likely used to be a wall at some point to sit down inelegantly. Part of him wishes he had a cigarette at hand, but no such luck. He will have to make due with the blue drink he has grabbed on his way out, not really paying attention to it and merely needing something liquid at that point.
At least it tastes remotely like beer so as long as he ignores the color, he can just try and fool himself.
And while he tries to do just that, it may be rather obvious that for once he isn't ranting either at his recorder or to himself. Instead he is just quiet and tired and brooding.
B!
He's picked up one of the blue drinks, for the moment just to have something in hand. That's only because his attention is fixated on the man who's apparently a living spellcheck. It's as entertaining as anything at the moment, or at least the Exo thinks so. Oh! Not only a spelling demonstration, but a biology lesson too!
"Hey Sundance, you getting thi- Oh, right." He taps his fingers against his drink for a moment before setting it down and taking out his tablet communicator. Then he holds it up so he can record Jon.
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"Well. I guess that's not the worst idea either." He comments, then turns around and crouches down before the recording device, stern expression in place and red marker still in hand.
"Let's continue with your mew sick home."
At those words Jon pulls worth a piece of paper, then continues to write out the words MEW SICK HOME in red marker before presenting it to the camera.
"That's incredibly wrong! The correct words here are music home." He writes those beneath the first set of words in quick, big letters before striking through the mew sick home. "And while they give a vague description of this place, they still are inherently wrong." The music home gets stroked through and he writes down AMPHITHEATER beneath, holds it up and points the marker at it.
"This. This is the term you need. This is what this place it. An amphitheater. A term derived from the ancient Greek amphitheatron. An open-air venue used for entertainment, performances, and sports. Hardly limited to music alone."
It's then that his attention flicks up and to the person behind the tablet "I'm sure you will agree with-- Uwa-HAAAHH!!"
And that's the sound he makes as he screams and falls backwards at the sight of this certainly NOT HUMAN face. Luckily the table is standing at a wall, or he would have pushed himself right off of it.
no subject
"Oh... was that what they were trying to say!" he say as the Archivist goes into the roots of amphitheaters. "Huh, guess everyone can learn somethin'. Nice job, teach!" He flashes a backlit amber smile, only to be screamed at.
The recording is still going as Jon goes sprawling back against the beaming wall, and only a few second after does Cayde figure he should probably turn the thing off. "Hey, you okay there? Kinda a delayed reaction there for a little stage fright."
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"Please don't kill me! Please- I don't-- I don't want to die!"
And why does that terribly disharmonious music only convinces him further that this is what this... This. This whatever this THING is wants to do?
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"Okay, okay- calm down, huh? You're embarrassing yourself." And maybe him too. Just a little.
Cayde tucks the tablet away, holding up his hands to show he's unarmed, not that the knife at his belt and the gun holstered at his hip really help for that, but at least they're not being wielded at the moment. That such can change at the drop of a hat is something the Hunter decides is something the jumpy man need not know.
"No one's gettin' killed here," he continues. "I was actually kind of enjoying your little...educational segment, weird as it is but hey? I guess people have different methods of coping with stress and your's is to correct alien vampire grammar."
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Which is to some degree successful, at least.
Hence what he does next is to point out the obvious, as that's what you generally do when you are under the influence of alcoholic(?) fruit mixed with the remaining adrenaline of nearly having a heart attack "Jesus, you scared me!"
Jon also lowers his marker, even though his breathing is anything but back to normal. It's really not that he has ever cared too much about embarrassing himself anyway. His free hand makes some vague, wave-y motions at the stranger "What even are you? And... Why would I believe you?"
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It's highly likely that he possesses no lungs, but he does mimic a snort as the man starts firing off questions. "You act like you've never seen an Exo before. -which I guess is likely considering that people here are apparently kidnapped from other...times? Places? All of the above?"
Shaking his head, he turns, reclaiming his drink from earlier, giving the glass a swirl. "As to your second question, well would you rather I point my gun at you instead? I could do that but it'd be kind of pointless and then I wouldn't have anything but this video I just took of you to remember you by." Never mind the fact that he doesn't have bullets.
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He huffs "Of course I've never seen an Exo before." There is a clear over-emphasizing of the term Exo here and Jon shifts towards the edge of the table cautiously, his eyes back on Cayde "As far as I'm concerned, you look like-" He stops moving to give a groan and shake his head "No. I'd rather not think about that."
While Cayde reclaims his drink, Jon manages to get himself off the table and he can't help but notice the gun the other just mentioned. And he does, in fact, take a step away. Though it's something else that puzzles him.
"Why precisely would you even want to remember me...? We just met!"
no subject
Cayde waves a hand as though Jon were the one speaking of strange experiences. He pauses to actually take a swig of the blue liquid in his glass.
"Man, you take things too seriously. Then again, you were the one just schooling an invisible audience who may or may not be paying attention so..." He shrugs.
no subject
Well, it's a hope.
He dares to close his eyes for a moment in a vague attempt to block out the music, then exhales before settling back into a scowl when he opens them again to look up at Cayde. While he may not be entirely sober, he at least still is very capable of scowling.
"And of course I'm taking this seriously! How are we supposed to communicate with our captors if no one deems it necessary to actually teach them our language! And the easiest place to start with that is their very own mistakes."
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The Exo pauses, feeling the need to clarify. "-which is to say that that is not a hobby of mine in general. Shooting things? Yes. Very much a past-time for me. Skinning things? No."
He actually starts to laugh then, shaking his horned head. "I was talking about the recording thing, but yeah- know what? I'm not going to disagree with you there. And if you're volunteering to be the one doing the teaching to these...these Agrii? Then be my guest!"
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"I'm not very keen on being shot either." He decides to point out a little fact himself before he crosses his arms.
"Recordings are a legitimate way of preserving knowledge, be it in the shape of audio, video or text. And I don't mind doing them. Maybe someone should be making more. It can't hurt." He raises one of his index fingers to point at the Exo without uncrossing his arms "I will need a copy of the recording you just made."
And after a brief pause: "I'm Jonathan Sims, by the way. The Archivist."
no subject
"Oh, don't worry. So long as you're not Fallen, Hive, Cabal or someone who owes me money I've got no reason to shoot you," he assures. Look, he's even smiling.
Blue optics seem to brighten as at least the man is in agreement about his suggestion. Really, the Exo had expected being recorded would have been the main concern. The whole conversation finally rounds towards proper introductions, and he takes it as an invitation to close the distance between them, thrusting out a gloved hand.
"Sims the Archivist, eh? Name's Cayde, Hunter Vanguard of the Last City. Not that titles mean anything when you're on an unknown alien planet."
no subject
As of course hearing the Hive mentioned has caught his attention. But given that Cayde very likely doesn't originate from Earth, Jon doubts that there is any connection to the Hive as part of The Corruption as he has come to know it.
And then of course there is also the part of the Exo referring to himself as Hunter.
...hahaha
He gives the man's hand a firm shake. "Basically? Bad news in varying levels with no love of humanity. They all come from beyond our solar system, moved in on our turf and basically hate our guts."
Where to even begin. Cayde knocks back the rest of his drink before setting the glass aside as he considers. "The Fallen are machine worshipers, vicious scavengers and out of the three, probably the most reasonable." There's a bit of a hand-wiggle at that. "Lotta infighting between their houses. They'll still happily try to shoot or knife you in the face.
"The Cabal- they're the military-minded. Big guys you probably don't wanna mess with but hey, they picked a fight first so yeah. I'll mess with 'em. Heavy armor, heavy artillery- big on conquering. We managed to kick one legion out of our city recently." He scowls.
"And the Hive? They're the ones you don't wanna run into in the dark- which is of course exactly where you run into them because they thrive there." He makes with the creepy hands, curling his fingers like claws, waving them about in a spooky manner. "They're the mysterious, creepy ones with the dark rituals and a lotta death. They love death. It's freaky. They're terrible. Also they've nested in the moon and a few pockets here and there on Earth."
no subject
"And they are... Exos. Like yourself." It's an assumption. One that settles in next to a bit of wonder "You're from Earth?"
Okay. He may not be much of a consumer for fictional works, but Jon doesn't live on the moon entirely. His research has had him end up in various rather specific internet communities on more than one occasion and he at least tries to keep up with some ongoing theories and discussions that might or might not end up relevant. Of course it had gotten harder over the recent months due to some more issues, but even five years ago theories on alternate versions of Earth were common enough.
no subject
"You say that like you're lumping us in with the guys I just talked about," Cayde points out with something almost like a scowl on his face. He waves a hand.
"Although I forgot about the Vex- now those guys? They're like...a robotic hive mind that does their own thing apart from the other guys. No less mean or intent on taking over things, mind."
Wait, what was he talking about again? He snaps his fingers. "Oh yeah. I'm from Earth. Probably not your Earth, judging from your previous reaction to me."
no subject
And those were still the better days.
"I am not... Lumping anything. I am attempting to understand based on the information I have." The scowl is back on his face. Though quite clearly his mind isn't quite as capable to leap through as many holes as it would be in a less intoxicated state.
And now there's also a robotic hive. And apparently one version of Earth potentially inhabited by... Androids? Is that an acceptable term? If at least that dreadful music would finally cease...
Jon settles with a soft groan and raises a hand to press two of his fingers under his glasses and pinch the bridge of his nose.
"Maybe you can give me a written, detailed account at a later time. Something I can read and-" A pause. "Well. Maybe record."
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"Anyway. You don't look so good. Party too hard already?" He drops a hand on the man's shoulder, giving him a hearty pat. "Maybe you should sit down." He glances around for a chair, or failing that, anything that could be used as one.
"So, Archivist, sounds like a boring job. You get locked up in a room sorting things all day, or do you get to do more fun things?"
no subject
But those are just a few thoughts sloshing around in his mind at the moment. Thoughts he won't try to put into proper words right now.
Instead, he winces at the pat, then glances over at the very inhuman hand resting on his shoulder "Ah... Yes. Maybe I should. Sit." He agrees, but makes no real move to go anywhere. And as he isn't tall enough to be able to elegantly half-sit at the edge of the table he has been on earlier, he will refuse to climb back up on it.
"It's actually a basement. We sorted files and statements, did some research into some cases... And I have been working on recording audio copies of them, yes. That was my job." At least the one he got paid for "It's probably not glamorous, but... I saved the world once?"
no subject
"Yep. Sounds pretty dull." He perks a bit at the end, sidling closer. "Saved the world, eh? Do tell!"
He loves a good story. He loves telling them even more but he wants to know how this guy's done it. Surely not by filing!
no subject
That is not a sentence he wants to finish.
Instead, he muses aloud, casting a look across the room himself "Jesus... I'm not sober enough for straight thoughts, yet neither drunk enough to get past my guilt. I guess I'm getting a drink. Or two. Sorry."
And with his goal now set to actively get drunk, he pushes away from the Exo and towards the nearest table filled with the Agrii's interpretation of food to randomly pick up one of the red beverages. Now this can only end well.
no subject
He waits. And is disappointed when nothing more is forthcoming once Jon's stopped that train of thought. When the man excuses himself to get a drink, Cayde raises his hands, hardly the one to judge nor stop a person from wanting to drown their sorrows.
Only after Jon's claimed a drink for himself that Cayde follows, picking up a glass of the red as well. He hasn't tried it yet. Does it matter? Who knows. If anything, he likes to still busy himself with the motions.
"...you all right?"
no subject
That first glass is empty about as quickly as Jon has picked it up and he resists the urge to hurl it against a wall. Or more likely in the direction of a wall. It might not fly that far. Blue is next and that's... A weird mix. But he does notice that Cayde has come along to join in the adventure of wild drinking.
The question earns Cayde a snort snort "Why. Of course not!" And the now empty second glass joins its predecessor before Jon picks another red one, but his eyes are now sticking with the Exo as he makes a short noise of grim bemusement.
"So you want to know about the Unknowing. ...Christ, you would have fitted right in there. You, this place, this abhorrent noise they call music!"
Well, Cayde now still has the chance to shut him up, or this Archivist will break into another angry rant.
(no subject)
And now I'm literally copy-pasting Wiki pieces \o/
Hahaha
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