Sometimes they are five. Sometimes they are three.

[agogemod]

We do not merely destroy our enemies;

we change them.

WELCOME TO THE END OF TIME.

The Regency has its spies and its cloaks and daggers. You may have even brushed shoulders with one and not have known it. There is a place for such tactics. You are not in that place any longer.

On missions like these, the Regency prefers to keep its base close, in a intradimensional time pocket. You're apart from Gallipoli, no longer technically on Earth or in the 1910s. There are multiple segments to this complex base of Regency operations, but you can only really see two places...

THE BRIG

This is your holding cell, a constantly shifting room of indesctructable grey squares. It folds and bends to hold you and your seven companions as you await... something.

There are no guards in this place. There are no bars to look through, or sounds to listen for. You are simply in the box, left to your own devices.

Occasionally, holes will open in the ceiling, and packaged, processed rations will fall from them before immediately closing. This is the only way to measure time. There are always exactly eight bags, each with the name of one captive written on the side in their native language.

Holes will occasionally open in the walls, and they always bring with them a searingly bright light. Sleeping and sitting is difficult on the ever-shifting floors, and when you try, it always seems like a pinhole of light opens right on your eyes. Even leaning on the walls has mixed results.

DON'T GO TOWARDS THE LIGHT

The windows of light that open always stay very small, making it difficult to look through, and always pour radiantly bright, hot light. If you're feeling particularly self-punishing, you might be able to peek at an odd angle and see something of the world outside without being completely flashblinded. The world outside the Brig looks rather like the interior of a Dyson sphere. In the center, a great, bright, hot energy radiates out like a sun, and it reflects off the exterior globe the pocket dimension functions within, illuminating everything from every angle. The Brig floats around it in a slow orbit, as do many other similar looking box-rooms made of similar material, connected by constantly moving tubes and chutes. Some boxes have more chutes going toward them than others. No chutes connect to the Brig, unless someone is about to disappear into the floor...

Getting this view will be difficult, but not impossible; it will just take characters willing to blind themselves with an overabundance of light multiple times until they get the correct angle, allowing them to see outside for roughly a half second before the room shifts to redirect the light back into their eyes.

not so solitary confinement

Occasionally, the cube will split into smaller segments, throwing characters together with others at random in close confinement. This is unpredictable and fast, splitting you off from the whole for what feels like hours at a time, often with only one companion as the cube shifts and squirms around you.

technical malfunction

The power nullification is still in full effect. No magic or special abilities rule this place. Your only master are the walls, undulating with no discernible pattern, always moving.

The Regency has also attempted to break the BCE's translation capabilities, but due to the fact that COST-jailbroken BCEs work on a different system than Regency ones, this is an intermittent problem that occurs sporadically. (ie, have the translation capabilities blink in and out at your discretion.)

THE OTHER PLACE

And then, suddenly, the floor drops out from underneath you. The shifting walls make a hole perfectly your shape and size, and sucks you through. The hole closes neatly, immediately, and you slide along in a world of boxes pressing close to your skin as you are moved from one holding area to another.

When you emerge, you do so in total darkness. Power nullification is still in effect, but even if you can naturally see in the dark, it doesn't matter. All you can see is an endless blackness, and walking doesn't help. You can keep walking for however long; there is nothing to walk to. The floor is perfectly level, but you'll never reach a wall.

Finally, there's light in the distance. A spotlight from nowhere shines down on a person with the head of a jackal. Looking closer, you'll find it's some kind of highly technical mask. They are wearing armor that obscures their exact shape-- no skin shows, no hint of identity or personality, just the cold eyes of the mask. They turn to you, and speak in a voice clear and soothing, almost gentle.

"I am Kebechet. I have been looking forward to speaking with you."

NAV NETWORK LOGS OOC MEMES PLURK

Comments

[bloodings]

Yeah, that's it. If you're looking for a rebel, you came to the right person!

[ She sounds awfully proud of this. Some things don't change, and even in the Regency's idea of a prison, she still has attitude to spare. ]

But the king wouldn't have agreed with them, either. He never tried to control his people... only to help them. Otherwise, things might have been different. [ There would have been no final battle, no destruction of the country. He would have done away with all sources of discontent — starting with her — and not allowed others like his wife to stray, ruling with an iron fist. ] So if he shows up here, he should praise me for my efforts. Don't you think?

[ The comment seems... genuine? Like she actually does want praise from the man she destroyed. (Because she does.) ]

[lonelywar]

[He gives a small smile. He has found that the people of COST have to them many facets. It was possible to disagree with or be critical of pieces and still see that there was a core which could be trusted, which could be appreciated. The type of being that Mordred was was also complicated, from his limited understanding of it. She had her own reasons, and he could only see them from the outside, knowing only of her past what she had chosen to divulge to him.]

In my own time, I had only begun to defy the wishes of ruling lords. Perhaps with your teaching, I will be far more adept when I finally return.

[Though, no, he still will not kill Lady Eboshi. Perhaps Mordred would've thought that the better path in the conflict between Irontown and the gods of the forest...]

You truly think he would have disagreed with their intentions entirely? They insist that their control ensures peace and stability. If your king wished so greatly for the best for the people, perhaps he could have been swayed.

[There's no way to say. He wonders more and more about it, though. It was a very cunning promise to make, one that needled into your conscience, made you question if it was a cost that could be paid.

He observes her for a moment. He does get a hint of her duality of opinion of the king, though he wouldn't have much clarity without being told. It doesn't seem to be a joke, though. That much, he knows.]

If he would respond as you said he would, then yes, I suppose he would be grateful for what you have done.

Why is it that you care, though?

[He just comes right out and asks it...]

[bloodings]

[ Immediately: ] I don't care at all. I just thought that he should do it.

[ Haha. But again, completely serious. She moves to ruffle his hair, seemingly pleased with his answer. ]

I'll teach you whatever you want. You don't look like much, but I bet you can still accomplish things anyway. [ Thanks... ] But in that case, I can't have you calling me Saber. So call me Mordred. That's my real name.

[lonelywar]

[He gives a single nod, though there's the faintest ghost of a smile on his face as he regards the very hasty (and rather flimsy) dismissal.]

I see.

[Of course you don't, Mordred.

He mostly just sits still for when she musses his hair, honestly completely unused to the gesture. He... assumes it's affectionate? It seems to be Mordred's style, at least. He isn't really sure how to respond, simply peering at her with his hair (grown out from where he'd cut it very short before dispatch to Gallipoli) in disarray.

Doesn't look like much, but can still get things done... that's pretty much Ashitaka in a nutshell.

He seems a little surprised at the admission, though.] I shall do that... Mordred.

[He tilts his head slightly.]

Why do you use this other name and hide your true one?

[bloodings]

All Servants are famous for one reason or another. We're sort of thing you can look up in history books. So, if you know someone's true name, you can figure out their weaknesses.

[ Though some hide their names more than others... Achilles. But she's seeing less and less reason to bother with it herself, which is why she doesn't mind explaining things to him. ]

Try it, when we get back to BASE. You'll see how easy it is to find out everything. [ She shrugs. ] I don't have anything to hide now. It's just a habit.

[lonelywar]

[He feels as though usually those recording history would want to cover up the failings of its heroes, so they seemed more venerable than they actually were. But... it seemed that not all Servants were heroes, though, so it seems an understandable enough reason.

Of course, Ashitaka has absolutely no concept of "history books," so there's a social context to this that he doesn't entirely grasp. But he is familiar that such things might be carried down in stories and legends.]

I understand.

[He probably won't look her up, though. She seems willing enough to simply tell him what he wants to know, should he actually ask.

He looks at her sidelong.] Do you find it is better or easier to be honest, or to hide yourself?

[He hides aspects of who he was, but more because it was in the past, things he could no longer completely claim anymore. He speaks sparingly about the Emishi, those he had condemned and left behind. In a way it was difficult to suppress it. In a way it was painful to broach the subject at all. He merely wonders if she feels similarly.]

[bloodings]

[ It's a good question. She stretches one arm over her head as she considers it, for want of something to do. ]

I've always hidden things. [ Few people ever saw her face under the helmet. It follows her even in death — her armour not some bright, shining beacon of heroism, but a power to disguise herself with. ] So, for me, that's easier. ... But I can't say it's better.

[ Being able to be the person named Mordred, instead of the shadow of King Arthur, feels a lot better. She lowers her arm, and turns her head away slightly. ]

Most people are afraid of me. Or hate me. It's not like I care, but... [ b-baka. ] Well, whatever. It is what it is. If people run away, then I don't have to waste my time with them.

[lonelywar]

[Usually Ashitaka would not be so invasive with personal questions. He is by nature curious, but he is also by upbringing polite; in his own time he had started to rely more on cutting to the chase and asking what he thought he needed to learn, though such a thing is a horse of a different color when it was merely him prying into matters relating to someone else's own self.

But, with where they were and with what was happening, it's simply something to do. Something to distract the mind from the fogginess of what the future held.

Often enough he questions the truth of what she says; that she doesn't care about certain things, as not all other factors seem to lead to that selfsame conclusion. He decides to keep quiet on this, however, slipped away as a thought to ruminate upon.

He gives a nod, thinking a moment before continuing.] Your story is still being written. [Perhaps it is not the proper way to view these spirits, given what he knows of their presence here, but it's how he sees it.] Who you were should not be all of who you are to those you know now. For your past actions, you had your reasons. Regardless of these, I am grateful to have you here with us, as you have been.

[From what he has seen, she seems reliable, even if voracious to a point of fault.]

[bloodings]

... Hmph. Are you trying to make me feel better? [ She leans to poke him on the forehead. She'd normally at least try to sound angry, but right now, she's just tired. ] I wasn't asking for your opinion on me.

[ Except she kind of was, even if she has no idea how to feel about his answer. This is the problem with people who don't hate her. ]

I'd rather be here by myself. [ Because everyone else is annoying, she wants to imply. So no one else would be, is what she actually means. ] But I'll manage. You keep managing, too. [ It's all they can really hope for. ]

[lonelywar]

[He's about to say no, that it was simply his read on the situation, but the forefinger to his forehead ends up stopping him in his tracks. He recoils a little bit, looking at her with a slightly bewildered expression.

Speaking to Mordred is very strange. He is naturally inclined to take her words at face value, but he always gets the feeling that if he does so, he's misunderstanding something.

In the end, he gives a very small, slightly rueful smile.] You are right. I will be more careful in the future.

[He believes he understands what she means in that, too. He decides to be a little more cautious in the way he responds.]

I will. [Though he does think it's best that there is a group of them here. Not for the success of their mission, but for the success of their survival. To be isolated would be a truly dangerous thing.

He settles back against the wall behind him, nodding in Mordred's direction.] I will continue to share what I can, when we are given food. [It is the least he can do in this situation.]