Welcome to Gaia! ::

Getting down to business!

Trolls bustled around the Central New Hemisect relief station. P.P.S. workers in official-looking garb ran to and fro, directing traffic the best they could with the sparse numbers they had. Despite all of this, the relief station was quite impressive. With the noise and chaos of the freshly damaged city and its rancorous citizens aside, the station was as organized as it could have been in such a situation, gathering a rather mobile crowd of trolls eager to rebuild their hives. It covered quite the distance – a couple of blocks had been consumed by information posts, booths for selling goods, fundraising and accepting donations, and set-ups meant for assembling medical and construction equipment in supply boxes.

Will your troll set up shop? Gather resources? Hatch plans of sabotage? Start here at the Central New Hemisect relief station and gain rewards for your team by roleplaying with others!

Guidelines and Points of Interest:
- You must be signed up for a team to join this ORP. Sign ups are here. As of April 4, trolls no longer need to be signed up for a team to participate in the ORP. However, unsigned trolls cannot participate in phase 2 or for RP bonuses.
- This ORP is eligible for an RP point! Normal RP standards (500 word minimum) apply for eligibility.
- This ORP will be active throughout the entirety of the event and will close on April 21st; HOWEVER, MVPs and recipients of kid resources will be decided on April 7th . No further event-based rewards will be offered after this date.
- One kid troll will be chosen as MVP based upon quality, effort and creativity during this phase (March 24th – April 7th). This troll’s entire team (Relief or Looters) will receive a tactical reward to be announced during Phase 2.
- Three teens will be chosen to receive “kid resources” based upon quality, effort and creativity during this phase (March 24th – April 7th). Kid resources are integral to the success of one team over another, and their significance will be announced in phase 2.

Alifax stared at the flyers in his hand, worrying his lip over his teeth a little nervously.

Well, to be honest the PPS was already aware. And the other group wasn't likely to be organized well at all - if it could really be called a group. They seemed fragmented, and that their organization was predicated upon common selfishness (no matter the accuracy of their beliefs regarding the P.P.S.' generosity) indicated, to Alifax, that they would not work well together. Although he supposed that every troll really was for himself, even in an effort like this. But Alifax liked the idea of helping his city, and he liked it even more because it'd make him stand out as an upstanding citizen of Alternia.

And a candidate for a fulfilling position in the military when he was older, too - of course he'd already enlisted, but as he'd never heard further information, well. It was nice to be cautious, Alifax thought.

He headed up the steps of the relief station feeling far more than a little self-conscious, but he knew what he was there to do. "Good, um, evening, highblood," he told an orangeblooded desk worker. "Is it possible to, um, sign up for resource distribution, and, um, for a damage assessment team?" Alifax knew that was really all he could do - he was not into parties, and he wasn't really sure what trolls needed with morale. And he couldn't really spare resources, unless they wanted, ahem, possibly blasphemous books. And he really did want to do as much help as possible.

He quickly filled in the paperwork and found himself shunted off to a shift leader - apparently the P.P.S. effort itself was rather disorganized. Well, he could understand that, but at least they were unified in purpose, and they knew they'd be rewarded with the resurrection of a city so central to Alternian life. He picked up his supplies - a crude notepad and pencils donated generously from the library.

He paused to await any further information, and then with a breath presented the flyers he'd picked up to said leader. "Also, um, I wanted to alert you to the existence of, um, these?" They were those handwritten flyers encouraging people to destroy parties he'd found just floating around the city on his way here (he'd actually splurged and used public transportation - he'd wanted to get to New Hemisect City fast, and he'd been glad to find the little town of tents and booths set up here).

"It could also be helpful to, um, attempt to curb dissemination of these, uh, things while we're out," he said, gesturing vaguely at them. He paused again, glancing around to see when the rest of the group would form around them.

Alternian Glory... Perseverance.. indom'table innovation... sheer strength... From the Vast Glub to Mum G. gettin' sick... an' now the very planet rebellin' against us...?

His pen tapped lightly against the side of his head.

Damn, our gen's been through a Helluva lot these past couple seasons now that I think 'bout et...

He brought his pen back onto his notepad, scrawling out a few words before furiously scratching them out. Songwriting wasn't really as easy as he made it out to be, but for once he couldn't even hear a beat playing in the back of his mind. Just silence and wandering thoughts searching for a melody. Perhaps one could say the kid was in a bit of shock. Afterall, it's not everynight that you get to witness your whole world come crumbling down around you. Literally at that. But in the face of such tragedy and random happenstance, one would think the creativity well would be overflowing.

With all the anxiety and frustration that was filling the atmosphere amidst the growing signs of civil unrest and lack of trust; the dejected angst and the strange duality between those in grief and the lucky few who experience a moment of relief in this devilishly hectic turmoil. 'All the feels', as the new phrase goes, 'all the feels' circulating- repeating over and over in the angry outbursts, the smashed glass, the lost potentials, and the quiet, stifled pain of proud individuals. A double chaotic chorus playing off each other as they seek a harmonic balance.

If only he could find the words.

Pocketing his notepad and pen with a soft exhale, Talymn got to his feet and stretched his arms overhead before turning to pick up his keytar in his left hand, then extend the right to gently shake the slumbering, dust covered carapace next to him.

"Ey, pops... Time t'go... He encouraged, earning a grumpy sounding chittering followed by a weak flutter of wings in complaint. "There'll be comfier places t'rest at the depot... C'mon, get up!"

Still none too pleased, the lusus stood and flexed his wings a few times. There was a visible stutter, the left hindwing lagging due to a clipped section at the base of the silvery membrane. He and Talymn were lucky, one could say. Having just returned from a late evening of romp at the clubs, they were still on the first floor when the quake had hit and brought the whole communal hivestem down on their heads. Buzzkilla took some damage from falling debris during the mad dash out, but he still managed to see his charge and a few community members to safety from the mess with only minor scrapes. It helped that their tower lied on the perimeter of the newly formed ground zero. Due to that narrow escape and following up on the clean-up and rescue teams, the highblood felt it purposeful to enact his civil duties and help out where he could. At the very least it would make for good publicity for later. He wouldn't pussyfoot around that ideal.

So it was that the rocker troll would walk and weave through the line of tents with keytar in hand and his lusus latched onto his back; head high and expression solemn, but determined. With few exchanges with some passerby along the way ( "Aha! Would ya take a look at this li'l starfish 'ere, eh! Got 'nuff shinies there, cap'n?") it didn't take long for him to find a PPS Rep and briefly discuss a possible means of operation. Manual labour was a definite out and with all of his belongings currently buried under who knows how many tons of building, he wasn't much in a giving mood. That just left little more than flag waving or basic medical assistance when the time came for it.

"Sure ya can't juss' 'and me wonna them jackets an' let me supervise things o'er at the supply kiosks? ... No? ... Can I get wonna of those jackets anyway? S'cold." Catching said jacket, Talymn just draped it over his arm before looking around, noticing a growing number of others mulling about under one of the larger awnings. His brows raised slightly upon learning what that was all about. "Recon? Why didn't ya mention that righ' off? Geeze... guy, I got legs, yanno." With that, he strolled right over, exchanging a few greetings that were returned halfheartedly. He found that to be rather annoying.

These were the guys that were going to be helping out in searching for despairing, trapped victims? Solemn faced, unmoved and seemingly numb with boredom and/or tiredness? What kinda reception would that be like...? No, no, no, tha's not right. Not right at'oll! Of course he could understand that newly made victims of loss wouldn't entirely be in the best of moods, but the idiots were still breathing. That's one thing to be glad about at least.

Powering up the Major, he dropped his lusus off on an empty cot before strolling through the centre of the area. His fingers moved idly down the keyboard in muted progression, humming the vocals as if not really paying attention to the others until he knew there were eyes following him at which point he raised his voice into real song.

"In the shadow of a Golden Age...
A generation waits for the light..."

He continued on, turning it into a rhapsodic track list that went from Journey, to Queen and a little AC/DC to even up the mix (all Trollified of course). Inspirational, lighthearted and hopefully serving as a reminder to instill that sense of urgency back into the would-be rescuers. He finished the set with an old battle ballad, encouraging anyone who knew the lyrics to join in.

Aandes LaMode sauntered into the relief station -- a cool breath of fresh, minty air that, in his opinion, was exactly what the smoldering city needed in its time of need. He wrinkled his nose at the diverse array of aromas that the site boasted, and looked at his lusus in disdain. Koalapops trundled alongside the boy, his nose to the air. He looked mournfully at just about everything, occasionally whining at his charge. It smelled strange in the city. Particularly so with the hints of smoke, gas, and dusty rubble in the air. Not like the forest at all. The sooner the two got out of this dump, the better. It wasn't even built right! Everything all falling down... Why were they here again?

"Hmm... This looks like the place to be," Aandes announced, gesturing vaguely to the station in front of him. He pushed out his lips in thought -- his brows animatedly popping up on his forehead. There were booths erected all around the block for a variety of reasons: A pastry sale, information booths, one particularly gaudy seadweller's fundraising booth, a few trolls selling tools -- another accepting broken tools to fix... Everyone was being so productive! One could really make a chunk of beetles from this. Aandes cursed his lack of foresight for not fixing up his ice-cream cart in time for this fine opportunity to cash in. Regardless, he'd find a way to profit.

His attention was directed shortly to a conspicuous figure standing with what appeared to be a relief worker. Tattered, charred clothes, timid demeanor. Based upon the rest of the city, he looked fresh from the flames. He was holding some interesting papers, though. Aandes sidled casually around to glance at the emblem on his overalls. A redblood. Good start. Better go over and take a look.

"Excuse me?" He said, his round eyes widening with youthful naivety. "My lusus and I have come up to help the relief forces... Oh, I'm sorry for interrupting," He stuttered and smiled at the redblood disarmingly. Both trolls were older than he. His blood color would allow for the difference to edge him into the conversation, as well has his will to help. And peppering the conversation with some childlike curiosity couldn't hurt either. He furrowed his brow and stood on his tiptoes to glance at the pamphlets that the redblood was holding.

"What are those?"

Nervit agreed, it was an awesome pun. She wasn't a punner herself - pyredad was semi-aquatic after all, and an orangeblood trying nautical puns well - it wasn't a great idea if you wanted to keep your head. or limbs. Or you know, specific body parts such as ~any of them~. She'd trailed after the greenblood as they entered the relief area - such a large lusus made excellent cover from any trolls looking for an easy target, after all. (In her chest was a tiny pang of envy - her lusus was small and no use for such things. Guilt immediately followed of course, because Pyredad loved her and wanted the best for her and she wasn't supposed to want things she couldn't have she was a lowblood, meant to serve!) As the other turned away though, she slipped out from her cover, heading over to one of the supply desks - specifically the medical desk.

She'd been lucky. (She'd deserved some luck, that same small part said, and was quickly squashed.) Her hivestem building had been built for lowbloods, meaning that the walls were slightly more malleable, existing hollows in the structure allowing it to move with the quake instead of disintegrating as the more stable structures had done. Not to say that it hadn't taken any damage - there were a bunch of new cracks and a giant hole in the ceiling that rendered the top two floors uninhabitable - but the cracks were easily fixable for those who were used to knock-off repair jobs.

There'd been some injuries too, but those were just as easily treated under the guidance of an older troll who wanted to be a mediculler. Nervit had been roped into sewing someone up, and it had been thrilling. She'd worked for trolls before of course, cared for them, but to feel there blood pulsing, to deny them bleeding out because you'd saved them - well, that was a thrill all of it's own. So enamored with this new skill (skill used in the loosest sense of the word here) she'd decided she would help out at that place. She'd also come prepared, with a large satchel. Inside the satchel were various supplies - fresh water, salt water (you never knew!), fresh sopor for calming people down and numbing wounds, various types of thread and needle, tinned food, a small pouch of beetles, some folded bolts of cloth if anyone needed clothes, some boiled rags for bandages - yes, Nervit was going to be H E L P F U L ! ! !

Capital letters and spacing of course of extreme importance. The troll at the medidesk slotted Nervit in quickly (it wasn't exactly a popular job - most of the time treating injuries fell to quadrantmates, after all) although they didn't seem to have many customers yet. Again, not too surprising on account of troll culture. And so she started looking around, when music caught her ears, and the troll singing caught her eye - or more accurately, his lusus with the damaged wing. He was a highblood, so she should help him, yep.

So picking up her satchel again (she'd tucked it under her knees protectively, with Pyredad on top. Not particularly intimidating, but he could flare his frills and he did have teeth....sorta..) and she trotted over to the singer, nodding her head and gesturing for attention, before waiting patiently to be acknowledged (and she was willing to wait.) If and when he did turn to her, she would immediately begin to speak, hopeful that explaining her purpose would offset any rudeness.

"I noticed your lusus has a damaged wing. Whilst I am not proficient in the field I know ways to care for injuries. As a highblood you should be a priority, including your lusus - would you like me to examine the injury, or offer advice or supplies? If you do not require help, I apologise for the intrusion and will depart immediately."

A lot of words in a very formal tone from a small girl - and spoken fast enough to prevent interruption but slow enough for understanding - practiced, in essence.

Smile and wave, smile and wave.

Ey actually wasn't getting much business, but the night was still early, Dictys thought. And it was nice to, well, schmooze. And practice eir captainly smile, too, naturally. Even so, there was plenty of time for em to shuffle and re-shuffle eir collection box into order - beetles sorted by color and size (and therefore, naturally, worth), and the four checks ey'd received arranged in hemochromatic order, and then alphabetized, and then arranged by amount (which really put them back in hemochromatic order, where ey'd had them to begin with).

A passing short-haired, keytar-holding landdweller made a comment to em, and ey beamed, certain that ey was about to get another donation. "Oh, you know - all the better to catch a donor's attention with! Besides, no one ever has enough shinies." (It seemed as though ey hadn't thought through the, well, other potential purposes for all those gems - such as further donation to their clearly generous cause!) The purpleblood walked on with nothing more than a laugh, though, and ey found emself pouting for a moment.

But that sort of attitude wasn't going to attract trolls! Dictys glanced around the crowd for someone who looked like they weren't sure quite what they could do to help just yet - and ey zeroed in on a certain orangeblood resting most of her weight on a shovel. "Hey, you - you with the shovel! Would you like to donate to the Public Protection Sector? All donations are tax-exempt for this fiscal sweep!" Dictys flashed a sharp-toothed beam at them, turning the collection box in a manner ey thought most appetizing. "Remember, only by helping the P. P. S. can you help rebuild New Hemisect City!"

Aandes curled his lip briefly. He managed to read a few of the lines, but was impaired by the angle of the papers now shielded from his gaze. Drat. He'd at least wanted to see what this contraband was all about; it was probably a lead to his excelling at this "event", anyway. He looked up at Alifax and leaned back, a faint hopeful grin popping back onto his features. If anything he could work with this fellow to get what he wanted. If anything went wrong with his "relief" efforts, or if anything went "missing", surely he could take the blame, right? Looked like he'd been through hell and back. He could probably take care of himself.

"Ah! Alright. Looks like the relief person is pretty busy right now, so..."

The troll gestured to the P.P.S. worker, who was a yard away directing another couple of trolls. Aandes puffed his lip out.

"I could follow you to your station?" It was hardly a question.

The aftershocks of the great quake had no doubt been felt throughout the land, and the rumbling shake of the earth had not gone unnoticed by a certain blueblood. Zeffer peered out the window of the transport ship he'd boarded under an hour ago, and was met with a sight that was both horrible and breath taking all at once. There was the usual shimmer of lights, ones that had managed to avoid being snuffed out by the disaster, and then there were the dead, black areas of the city, silhouettes of partially toppled building and lines of smoke trailing up into the night sky. The blueblood's mind raced at the prospect of all the opportunities such an event laid out, but his thoughts were also tainted with worry; he had friends in the city, after all. His thirst for reveling in the chaos could wait until he had located them, until he confirmed that they were at least still breathing.

It hadn't been hard to secure a ride to the city. The cry for help was ringing across Alternia, and trolls were flocking in from far and wide, it seemed, to assess the damage or to take advantage. Zeffer stepped off of the ship with his backpack slung over his shoulder, for once wasting no time in leaving the port to make his way through the city. He'd found more than of the bright purple imperial papers shoved into his hands at several points along his journey, only to cast them aside or crumple them up moments later. Zeffer didn't take any time to mess around on his way, carefully picking his path through the streets to his first destination.

It was reassuring to see that Aprife's hivestem was still intact, and he made his way up, heedless of any of the dangers of ascending a building when aftershocks might strike at any moment.

"Aprife! You alive in there, man?" He rapped against his friend's door, before skipping over formalities and reaching to attempt to open it himself, eager to see if his companion was alright.