station72 | [mission: hyrypia] then the holy paths we'll travel strew'd with rubies thick as gravel

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[mission: hyrypia] then the holy paths we'll travel strew'd with rubies thick as gravel

CHARACTERS: EVERYONE
WHERE: Hyrypia - The Graze
WHEN: DAY :014 - 016
SUMMARY: Two days of horseback hunting training, followed by the second round of competition.
WARNINGS: Will update as necessary. Need a warning added? PM this account please!

THE GRAZE
DAY :014 - :015
THE DAY FOLLOWING the festivities finds the majority of competitors and spectators still buzzing with the competition’s failures and successes, but there is little time to gloat or moan about the results. By the time the sun has risen over the graze there's a new announcement: there will be two days of additional training followed by another day of competition. Today and tomorrow will be dedicated to learning skills vital to the hunt.

0. TRAINING
THE TRAINING FIELD has become familiar, but the decor has changed- as have the the teachers. Unlike the previous riding and herding lessons which featured ropes and hooks, today's syllabus includes a series of more dangerous tools. The short spears that line the racks may be dulled but they still look painful, and the speed at which they're hurled from the intricately carved Sarvat - the traditional spear throwers - is intimidating.

At first glance, the slings of woven and stained Gryer leather are less impressive-- but the different ammo that can be loaded in them proves interesting: a bio-luminescent tagging liquid that stains the targets that it hits and leaves distinct trails, hard metal weights, and carefully handled poison globes.

Over the next day the envoys are are trained to use the weapons from Elinback in addition to being schooled in a number of simple traps and snares that leave little confusion as to the nature of the next challenge events...

THE GRAZE &
THE MINIATURE FINGER MAZE
DAY :016

I. THE CHASE
THE HERD of technomanced automaton Gryer sits idle in the knee-high silvery grass of the Graze. They're nothing like the Elin (who exhibit all the traits of live animals); these automatons seem to know only two basic concepts: don't run, and run. Right now they're practicing the former as the competing riders are divided into large, mixed hunting parties. Once the parties have been formed, they take turns taking their runs at the herd. Among the herd of thirty, four Gryer have been painted a brilliant sapphire. To strike one down requires either two metal weights to the head, a spear to the neck piece, or two spears to its midsection.

When the hunting parties take off so do the automaton Gryer. And they're fast, moving as of one mind - a school of mechanical fish through a sea of silver grass. It'll take cleverness, skill and a bit of daring riding to either cut the targets free of the herd or go crashing through among the running Gryer to strike a target down among its brainless brothers and sisters. Once struck enough times or in the right place, the sapphire Gryer will lose power and drive spectacularly into the earth.

The attentive audience (many of them armed with an array of binoculars from their personal belongings) might cheer when appropriate, but due to the distance at which much of the action takes place most of the observation is spent eating, drinking, and enjoying the shockingly pleasant weather.

II. THE ~~75th HUNGER GAMES~~ PURSUIT
THE BREEZE GROANS through the shadowy pocket of the canyon system, whistling tiredly through the coral structures - along narrow bridges and between tight passages. Familiar to anyone who competed in the individual race on Day :013, this shadowy miniature canyon is crawling with automated creatures to 'kill.' The only problem? Beating everyone else to one of them. With the blare of that now-familiar horn, the hunters mounted on their Elin take off into the canyon and rapidly splinter into disparate groups or simply go off on their own into the tangle. It doesn't take long at all to lose sight of other riders, to begin to feel completely alone in the low light of early evening. Mist rises from the canyon floor and the breeze moans ominously through the pockmarked coral structures.

It'll take more cleverness and accuracy than high speed riding skill to claim a prize here. But best work quickly and quietly to avoid having your target poached out from under your nose…

III. THE AFTERMATH
THE SECOND CHALLENGE ENDS with a long, mournful cry of the now-familiar horn. All of the possible targets have been captured and to the victors go the spoils in the form of the accumulated scores, carefully kept by the judges. The losers are left empty handed-- at least until the spectators and competitors alike have made it back to the tent encampment. Then their hands are filled with the same liquor and a new spread of simple, filling, and delicious dishes expertly prepared by the servants of the manor.

There’s some ceremony to it - the meat they are eating is the same that they would have served if their hunt had been for something more than machines. However, mostly this seems to be a chance to relax sore muscles. That's aided by the addition of several leather-enclosed tents raised earlier in the day. Once the sun sets, these tents are filled with hot, relaxing steam and lined with benches: saunas! ...which might provide some comfort for anyone not stuck wearing a heavy robe. :(

((OOC Notes: This log covers the two days of mounted combat/hunting skills training and the competition which follows. You can find a full breakdown of the events/a place for mini-event specific questions HERE. Sign-ups will remain open until the next event log for the finale goes live, however going forward please make sure to either join the individual event or have a full team selected for the team events. Please be aware that signing up late won't give you extra time to finish your thread to qualify for the finale event.

Have more generalized questions? Drop them on the MISSION: HYRYPIA OOC POST or get in touch with us on the Mod Contact page.))

NAVIGATION • GAME CALENDAR • MISSION: HYRYPIA • FAQ • MOD CONTACT • GLOSSARY

( CODE BY WHAMBAM )

Threaded | Flat

[ Two days are barely enough to get the hang of the spears and slings and weights on top of still learning the Elin's capricious ways while recovering from the first trial. Muscle memory doesn't grow as fast as logical conclusions fall into place.

Misato herself is visibly clumsy on her ride, focused and determined as she is, yet always on the verge of stumbling off entirely. What an apt metaphor for life. Even so, when the sign is given and the parties take off, so does she, keeping up with the hunters gradually dispersing across the field while allowing the distance between her and the herd of Gryer to widen, for now. Time spent on formulating a plan before one strikes, even in a race against time, isn't wasted. ]

I'm going in to break up the herd!

[ Shouted out loud for the benefit of the handful of Rabadoceans unfortunate enough to be assigned to their team. It is a statement, yes, but contains within it the question of who's with me? even as she's already egging her Elin onward to catch up to their targets. ]

( Lexa, Rani, you have better aim than I do. ) [ A belated and paltry explanation for her risk-taking. ] ( Asuka, you can come with me. )

❚❚❚❚❚ A. EXCHANGING RECIPES

[ Somehow Gildor finds himself sitting in the higher sections of the audience, where dignitaries of every envoy view the chase below through tiny binoculars and have servants bring wine to their tables. This isn't at all as exciting as the last round of events, where he could hear the beat and rush of mechanical hooves and feel the vibrating energy of the crowd. Today it's just tea and scones and the occasional cheer from the audience whenever something happens. Gildor can't tell what. Normally such a thing wouldn't bother him, but right now it's making him bubble over with anxiety. ]

(Can anyone tell me what's happening below? I am up in the dignitaries' box, and the most exciting thing any of them are talking about is a recipe for some sort of mashed potato.)

❚❚❚❚❚ B. ALCOHOLICS ANONYMOUS

[ Again Gildor finds himself alone - surrounded by food, servants, and merry diners in the feast tent, but alone and holding a glass. If it weren't for the robes covering his every feature, his distress over it would be obvious. He just wanted to finish a modest dinner, but before he could leave a well-meaning servant slipped the drink into his hand and he's become awkwardly frozen by it. The liquor inside is the same grassy-smelling stuff that has been enticing him every night with another event, and now it's nearly in his face. For once he's thankful for the veil, but it isn't enough. ]

(Someone come take this from me before I do something I will most certainly regret. Please.)

[ The last word is more pleading than the rest of his clipped thoughts. More than anything, he's distressed - knuckles white under the gloves, the greenish liquid inside the cup shaking. ]

❚❚❚❚❚ C. WILDCARD

Got an idea for something with Gildor? Hit me in my PM's, or on plurk! He's mostly eavesdropping on the envoys in the audience, but available for pretty much any CR!

Edited 2017-08-26 03:54 (UTC)

A. Hail the conquering hero?

[ Asuka's solo event had not gone nearly as well as she would have liked. She'd been prepared to be able to peg targets. She was good at that - what she hadn't been prepared for was the stalking and hunting part. She grew up in a city and she'd never actually gone hunting - so she'd blundered through on her Elin, chasing after her targets with increasing frustration. She'd shrugged off attempts to help. She needed a solo win - and she'd come up empty. Worse, she'd taken a tumble off of her Elin in the process and she's fairly sure she's going to bruise (or worse). She's carefully picking her way back through the tents, head down, unseen features creased in a frown.

The buzz and emotional high of the last few days has worn off and now she's back to feeling isolated. Funny what a few bad moments can do to you. She elbows past someone before realizing it's another Host. She pauses for half a moment before she speaks, voice sour and reluctant. ]

...Sorry.

[ Which is better then it might have been. At least she's not yelling. ]

...did you see the last event? [ Maybe her humiliation wasn't spotted by other members of the Nest. ]

B. Wildcard

[ You know the drill. ]

01. Training - Closed to Asuka & Rust - Separate threads are fine

[ Aloy is beginning to enjoy herself now. They're doing things she's used to, things she's done for her whole life. She stands next to her Elin, hefting the spears she's been giving, testing their balance, judging how far they'll need to go. Also learning how to throw them swathed in her robes. There's a joy humming in her chest that helps to keep her focused and happy and not thinking about what else there is to come.

She knows of course there are others who aren't as adept at this and so she'd offered, sending out an open offer to anyone who wanted to learn to handle a spear and how to stalk, to ride, to hunt. Though she felt that riding was well handled by now, the handling of a spear was not so simple. So she waits, resting and checking the balance of her weapons. ]

02 - Hail the conquering heros - Open

[ After the long day's hunt, Aloy is deliciously sore in a way that makes her smile. Even her injured leg isn't bothering her as much thanks to attentions from Adra and the distraction from a day spent mounted and hunting. She finds her hands full of good food and drink, though she only sips at the liquor. No need to be drunk, right? It's not to her taste, anyways. Instead, she wanders with plate in hand, nibbling happily at her food and radiating confidence and happiness with her day. When she finds a familiar face, she sits down to greet them with a cheery burst of mental energy. ]

( What a day! Wasn't that hunt wonderful? )

Edited 2017-08-30 17:59 (UTC)

HANGRY GAMES

[For this adventure, Seviilia opts to ride off on her own -- partially out of boredom, and partially to give her a chance to ride free. She'd already won the favor of the crowd in the last round, and she knows well enough that the win doesn't really matter.

She'll still put on a show. She's just going to take her time doing it. She'll also make it her business to interrupt others attempting their claim on the prize. From a distance, she flings a spear to murder a kill being chased by another host.]

Sorry -- was that your's?

AFTERMATH

[Meat and saunas -- two pleasures Seviilia would kill to indulge in. Unfortunately, being trapped under layers and layer of cloth made such things impossible. The meat wasn't quite rare enough to her tastes, and she couldn't find the idea of sitting still in full cloth enjoyable.

She can be seen hovering near one of the more royal of their hosts, or sizing up their given meal with some disappointment. Or, if you're lucky, you might find her hovering near the saunas, trying to absorb some of their warmth without being overtly obvious about it.

The preference for warmth is new -- something she's certain she must have obtained while being connected to the rest of the Nest.]

1) HUNGRY GAME
[It's not a team event, but by now, part of him is relishing the idea of being alone for a while. Just to get away from the constant frustration. As long as someone from the Nest wins, or places high, they come out of this on top, right?]

[Not to say he's going to go easy. Confident enough in his riding skills to go plunging into the canyon, the mist, letting his mount cut loose. Chasing the various robotic life forms.]

[To anyone else, his shields aren't up that strongly. Because while he's chasing their targets, there's only exhilaration.]

(This is ... this is fun!)

[Forgive him if he sounds surprised, elated, casting along the mental link to his fellow riders.]

(Bet you can't get that rabbit thing first!)

[After all, what's the worst that could happen out here?]

2) AFTERMATH
[... the worst that could happen is a fractured left arm, apparently.]

[His shields are clamped down hard to keep from broadcasting the injury to the entire Nest, but still. When he drags himself back into the camp after the hunt, he's clearly favoring it. And making a beeline for the tent he's been using. Dropping off whatever target he'd managed to grab.]

[Either stop him on the way, or find him in said tent, attempting to make an arm sling out of the pink robes Clint had foisted on him.]

[It's not that successful with just one hand. One hand, and a laser focus on keeping his shields intact. Safe to say he won't be joining in the festivities outside for a while.]

3) wildcard!
[Anything else you want to thread!]

[ All Noctis and Lakshmi's advice and instruction had kept Bellamy on his Elin. But it's clear, very clear, that he's not an adept. He's likely more useful in the individual event as a disruption than as an actual force to be reckoned with. It suits Bellamy fine. He's very aware of his limitations. The singular time he gets close to a target, he loses out to a hunter from another faction. Emerging from the canyon after, dusty, sweaty and exhausted. He'd have liked to wash his face and sample a few of the drinks, but the veils—

Just one more reason why this particular disguise is awful, basically.

He weaves through the crowd instead, envious of each person disappearing into the sauna. It's likely to early to retire to his own tent, but Bellamy's still entertaining the idea of it when he treads onto the robe of the Host in front of him. ]

Sorry.

[ It's echoed immediately between their minds. Bellamy latches onto Rust, false familiarity gained from Clarke prompting the reaction before Bellamy can circumvent it. ]

Sorry, [ He repeats, a little useless as his mind withdraws incrementally. ] I was paying more attention to the tents than the crowd.

[ Envious, wistful attention, but still not an excuse. ]

iii. the aftermath

[ Elena was only a spectator for the day's activities, enjoying the competitions and cheering on those she knew who participated. She'd actually had a bit of fun, surprisingly, enough to get her out of her own head for a few minutes now and then, allowing her to forget for a little while. Forget the constant disgust she feels from Lakshmi, the strangeness of the symbiote connection in her mind, the constant hunger gnawing away at her strength. Those brief moments of reprieve are miraculous and treasured.

It's impossible to forget any of it during the festivities after the challenges. Elena settles herself at one of the tables, sipping at the alcohol and hardly touching the provided food, everything paling in comparison to what she really wants. Blood. Her broodmates are bound to feel that profound craving, possibly even some of the others in the Nest as the night wears on and she leaves the table to mingle among the others.

The coppery tang of blood is on the back of her tongue as she breathes in the scent of those around her, hears it rushing beneath their skin, and as much as she wants to run from the crowd and seek solace away from temptation, she knows she has to stand her ground. It's better to learn how to be around others now than risk 'accidents' occurring later because she's too weak to resist the urge to feed on everything in sight. ]

i. Infiltrator
Everyone loves a show. They're all looking to their gear, rushing around, or watching the competition for targets-- Out there, metal hoofbeats make thunder and sparks fly from glancing blows and true ones. In the camp, it's controlled chaos, all minds turned to the glories of competition and-- and Shepard, she knows her cue.

They won't catch the 'Enemy' out in conversation, not without knowing what they're looking for. But, like the datapads hidden in paper-bound books, whoever they are, they'll have discrepancies that are more material in nature. The problem, then, becomes finding them; there's a lot of people here, a lot of ground to cover, and very little time. Fortunately, she's not alone-- right?

ii. Engineer
Of course, any good crime needs an alibi, and what better alibi than to be publicly, obnoxiously, people-watching. Shepard sits, sipping at her water, to all appearances deep in some unknowable form of public meditation or prayer behind her robes and veil, but any with the wherewithal to know it can hear the running commentary.

( 'But Sara, how will I pay for the farm now that a diplomatic riding competition has taken my ability to walk? I will never again till the hard unforgiving soil of our homeland.'

'Love will see us through, Clem. We'll scrape by, somehow.' )

The Rabadocean in question limps by, injured in competition, but too proud, or too friendless, to be assisted on his way. The next stalks by, arms full of lumpy bundles and metallic cooking equipment.

( 'Oh no I overslept and now I'm late for cannibalism cooking class. If I'm the last one there, the chef might cook me instead!'

But she was not the last one to class, and they cooked Fred instead. His amputated foot was almost as delicious as his arm had been. )

A trio going the other direction, one of whom trips, briefly delaying the other two, before they leave him to push himself up out of the dust and catch up in his own time.

( Dammit, Fred. You'll never learn. )

iii. Soldier
She is the kind of person who travels light. Between necessity and regulation, it's always been so. If you were to look in on her, even when set up for habitation, her corner of the tent is just that-- a corner, compact, tidy from habit, and well-secured when not physically guarded. It takes a thief, after all, to know the true paranoia of thievery.

Shepard is, absolutely, a thief.

But right now she's a thief with her veil and gloves stripped off, laying back and watching something scroll past on her datapad-in-a-book, with a bulbous glass of something violently purple at her elbow. Maybe you want to leave well enough alone, or maybe you have a question, a curiosity, or are just looking for company. Regardless, Shepard will acknowledge your presence with a glance and a nod-- no reason to be rude, after all.

iv. Vanguard
wildcard, y'all

Edited 2017-09-16 21:31 (UTC)

❰ it's been a long time since damon participated in a hunt on horseback — more than a century and a half, in fact, and never since he'd turned — but it's funny how some things just come back. like riding a bike, training on elinback yesterday brought everything back, even while the obvious differences were an adjustment — no horse he ever rode was made of metal, and even in 1864 they used guns, not spears. still, he's more than confident in his own abilities, enough so that he sought gildor out before the hunt rather than prepare.

it's just a few minutes until the hunt is supposed to begin, and damon is going over final checks of his equipment, testing the heft of the spear in his hand and how his elin reacts to his commands. this would be easier if he were on foot, hardly even a contest, but he's not allowed to stand out, and the added challenge should make it... fun. probably. at least he's definitely going to get something, which is maybe more than any of the other riders can guarantee. he's used to stalking and hunting his prey, which granted is usually rather taller and more human-shaped than any of the animals in the valley, but still. this is what he does. he's got this.

the prickle in the back of his mind that announces the approach of another host prompts damon to turn around, the sense of a smirk evident through the link even though no one can see his face.

I haven't gone on a real hunt in too long. Wiping the floor with the natives is going to be too easy. ❱

II. PURSUIT (??)

[ Mat's distrustful of the creatures to start, but boredom and curiosity eventually take their toll. Training's uneventful, if slightly embarrassing; by the time they get to the events, he's idly considering names for the bizarre looking mount, though he can't be completely sure it's even the same one he had yesterday.

He doesn't hesitate to break off from the group as soon as they hit the canyons, and for a few paces he's keeping up the pretense of the hunt; then he sits back and pulls the Elin to a walk, letting the one he's trailing dart out of sight. The coral looks like bone up close and the mist's more creepy than it is exciting, but he's frankly more interested in sightseeing at the moment than winning. He draws the mount to a full stop, shakes one hand free of his heavy robes and bites off his glove, then reaches out to brush his fingers across an arm of coral jutting out into the path. Maybe it feels like bone, too.

If someone happens down the same winding path, hopefully they're watching out for a traffic jam. ]

III. AFTERMATH

[ Mat doesn't win. He does get booze and food as soon as the games are done with, though, which is better than any pointless title or medal. He's actually in better spirits than he's been in since first setting foot on the planet — might just be thanks to the booze, though.

He'll be easy to spot. Rather than dodging socializing altogether he seems fine with being in the middle of it, this time; praising the food, chatting up locals, making up stories about the hunt to keep them entertained, shamelessly flirting when the cues are right. He's hardly making a scene, but it'd be a stretch to call him particularly "mysterious" or "reclusive".

Later on, he can be found dragging the claustrophobic robes off his head as he ducks into a shared tent and out of open view. ] What do you reckon we're missing in those tents?

[ Jealous of the people who can actually use the sauna? Intensely. ]

WILDCARD

[ Interrupt wherever, run into him right before the hunt, right after, while he's putting moves on some local, when it's time to cut off his booze, etc. Training's also fine, he'd be mostly competent with the given weapons. ]

Edited 2017-09-23 20:50 (UTC)

The Meradan are good at this - at least, they certainly seem to be having considerable success spreading into every corner of the encampment. Even the most reserved Meradan is more outgoing than the most talkative Carpathan, which means it's easy to stumble across small clusters of them among the young minor Hyrypians or among assortments of minor envoys. Even the Meradan guard retinue seem to have no reservastions about fraternizing with the enemy - in the aftermath of the day's games, there are more than a Meradan recounting their exploits in the company of patient Descendants and cooly attentive Carpathans. To say they're integrating well is a stretch; rather, they're a particularly capable invasive species. Any individual seems welcome to wade into their conversation - so long as they're willing to put up with boisterous debate of course.

One such nest of Meradan has set up shop in one of the long meal tents. Swathed in their heavy cloaks and piles of fur again the cool evening air, a series of young officers in their high collared uniforms are cheerfully discussing the competition with a company of older Meradan who clearly either haven't been in the field or have already taken great pains to appear immaculate and well rested. It's not exactly a private meeting, but the impromptu gathering is easy enough to slide into the edge of. There are certainly other envoys doing just that - a matronly rabadocean from some minor moon is laughing politely with a brilliantly blue Meradan, and a pair of young Hyrypians are arguing gleefully with a match set of junior Meradan aides.

Significantly, there in the center of that gathering sit Captain Gris Syn and her partner, the ruddy Ilya Mor. They're quite the pair - she all faint shades of cobalt and he so brilliantly flush. Maybe that's the point (though in this, a rare moment in one another's company, they hardly seem miserable). Captain Syn is deep in conversation with an a young Meradan who seems mortified that her opinion is being asked by the Captain, but Ilya Mor's attention has wandered to--

"Ah! Do I get a scarf this time?"

It's so hard to tell Carbauschians apart. Is he being reductive, or does he really recognize some pattern of Misato's heavy clothes?

[ There are no events today.

They've been left to their own devices, which means Bellamy has taken the time to stay in the tent. It's mid-morning, and eventually he'll pull on his robes to join Murphy or Lexa and Clarke as they circulate through the crowd, but for the moment he's content to set his veils aside and review the information on his tablet again. Company isn't unwelcome, but he wasn't expecting Kaji to seek him out. He can't help but eye the tent opening for Misato, but Kaji has apparently come alone. ]

Already tired of flirting on our day off?

[ It's not really a day off. Bellamy doesn't know what today is, apart from a time to collect themselves before the final leg of the competition. ]

Threaded | Flat

( the chase: for lexa, asuka and lakshmi )

Gildor Helyanwe | OTA

OTA