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KNOW YOUR RIGHTS.
WHO? Everybody! Including fourth wall visitors.
WHAT? Time to kiss the spiders goodbye and strike out for greener pastures.
WHEN? 10 XI, Year 6 of Sanaliel's reign (as of arrival in Lemuria).
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.
WHAT? Time to kiss the spiders goodbye and strike out for greener pastures.
WHEN? 10 XI, Year 6 of Sanaliel's reign (as of arrival in Lemuria).
ANYTHING ELSE? Please warn for anything besides physical violence and move to a personal journal if it's beyond PG-13.
this is a public service announcement;
with guitar
ESCAPE TACTICS
READ THE JHASHCH INFOPAGE.
The departure from Jhashch has none of the ceremony of arrival. A few hours after the last of the mission teams report in, a bulletin goes out. It's the only forewarning for the time-step.
@SCOUT | @ALLIt's hurried and without embellishment, and for good reason. While the teams have deterred and distracted the Regency and burned House Shaiy's residence, it hasn't stemmed the chaos. If anything, it encourages it.
emergency time-step approved
expect it within the hour
you won't be returning to base; we'll port in supplies after arrival
if you have your standard cost clothing, change into it now
cover your face and hide the cost patch
Princess Chch still lives, but Queen Thsh is viewed as the Aranean ideal of a tyrant, confidence only bolstered by surviving the Regency's assassination attempts. COST has her blessing — and that of the Twin Generals and Prince Shch. Aranean soldiers throw themselves into brutal confrontation at their generals' behest, dragging Ythaway further into bloodshed; the male Araneans decline direct involvement, but they're skilled saboteurs. And the public watches; while the media teams couldn't completely convince them of the cause and House Oujh still maintains its influence, they spare the Regency no love.
This is the fate of the weak.
Young has already sent Serket ahead with the mines' valuable deposits of Ymir. And, with the queen's position assured amidst all the gore, COST wants to evacuate as quickly as possible.
» THE TIME-STEP
The transfer begins like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, just a hum of sensation.
But the vibration spreads. Veteran recruits often refer to this phenomenon as "the buzz". The feeling builds, not unlike standing near a great engine or the wind-rattled branches of a massive tree. There is a long moment of motion sickness and you can't be sure if the world is shaking you from the inside out or the outside in. It may be better to close your eyes against the growing nausea, as the world blurs out of focus.
A star shines in the distance. You may hear the faint rustling of leaves. Some swear they hear voices in this moment, indistinct words echoing off nothingness. Others say they feel a touch of the divine, that the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle and nothing more than the suggestion of sound. Or maybe it's only an illusion, brought on by the powerful technology grafted into your skin.
One thing is for sure: One moment you are here and the next you are not.
WELCOME, GHOSTS
A siren blares in the distance, accompanied by unintelligible shouting and the low rumble of engines. The air is chill, no matter where you arrive; the ground beneath your feet is like ice if the soles of your shoes have worn too thin. Closer, there's the crackle of an air quality alert and the creak of swaying metal. A nearby terminal declares the date to be 10 XI, 6 SNL.
The time-step has scattered the cell throughout the districts of Lemuria.
@SCOUT | @ALLAlmost immediately, a second bulletin pops up.
now that i have more time
if you weren't briefed by your commander already, this is an emergency time-step, possible through the efforts on jhashch
for those of you with my cell, the sergeant and i won't be present, at least not physically; we can't be
you can contact us, but the regency carefully monitors this time stream so excessive communication through time and space could be dangerous
you can ask the scouts available for more information
@ASHOLE @STARBOY the two of you are the most accessible
@STARBOY | @ALLThe files are succinct, establishing COST's mission and role as opposed to that of the Regency. The beginner's guide even addresses the side effects of BCE glitches and wiped memories, for newbies who don't remember joining COST. These scouts want you up to speed as quickly as possible, because fucking up could have dire consequences. And they also really don't want to explain it to you; this shit is not in their purview.
are you shitting me
[And that's it, until five minutes later:]
lets get this out of the way
read the 1st attachment
its not done but dwi
if youre new read that and the 2nd attachment
and if youre looking for us for some bullshit reason
x marks the spot on the 3rd attachment
we got clothes and weapons since no one sent you in w shit
(lmao ofc)
[ATTACHMENT: lemuria.html, beginnersguidetodumbfuckery.html, map.png]
The map indicates a cellar in one of the low districts, identified as the Skhan District. If you're missing an outfit of your own, the scouts have several bins of secondhand clothing and more than their fair share of weaponry. It's a mismatched collection and far from the height of fashion (unless scavenger chic is in), but be careful: while most of the patches have been torn off, some clothes still bear the insignia of COST. You'll want to get rid of that.
POST-APOCALYPTIC WEAR IS IN THIS SEASON
Blasters load six to fifteen rounds, depending on model; none are larger than a shotgun. And, because of the dangers of porting in and out of Lemuria, the bolthole has its own revivicator installed. Which means if you die in Lemuria, you revive in Lemuria. It isn't as refined as BASE's rundown tech; chances are, when you wake up, you'll feel echoes of whatever killed you.
READ THE LEMURIA INFOPAGE.
» NEW RECRUITS.
New arrivals, here by virtue of the fourth wall, can arrive in one of two ways.
The first is as a fresh recruit, in COST-issued athletic underwear and holding whatever item you chose to bring. Hopefully your clothes and circumstances don't embarrass you too much, because you're stuck with them until you can rendezvous with a scout or steal your own.
The second way for fourth wall characters to arrive is as a seasoned member of another COST cell. Their assumed missions can be to your tastes, as fantastical or historical as you like. Need ideas? Feel free to read back through the game's logs and infopages for inspiration.
HIDE YOUR SHIT
Welcome to COST's little bolthole in Lemuria. It's a cramped space, a basement's basement in an abandoned factory overrun by squatters. The community doesn't make much notice of anyone moving through as a rule, so it's easy to weave by the masses huddled together in rags and find the long, dingy staircase, leading down, down, down to a padlocked door.
The padlock will twist and open as soon as you tap the corresponding app on your BCE. It automatically loaded when you got to Lemuria and reads FUCKINGPADLOCK.IO.
And then there's the bolthole. Dug into the ground, it's not unlike being in a submarine; it's certainly cramped enough. It could hold maybe four people, very uncomfortably.
It has a selection of security cameras and terminals on one end and the rest of the walls are decked with cabinets and drawers, all locked by various means. Some are traditional and some ask for eye scans or fingerprints or "identity samples", whatever that means.
There is a not insignificant number of empty takeout containers in one corner.
And, thanks to the staircase, you can at least hear whenever someone's coming.
GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER
You can't hide in the bolthole forever — the scouts, for one, will kick you out — and Lemuria is a restless city. Many of the low districts are overflowing, too many people packed in too small spaces. And everywhere is an air of discontent, evident from disgruntled muttering.
It's often hard to tell what's news and what's rumor, even surrounded by terminals with easy access to the Lemurian network. Fafnir is causing a ruckus at the city limits; maybe someone will ask Jörmungandr to "deal" with him. Terrapin Labs is dumping genetic waste in the sewers. The Crosslands are already drained dry and the war is a coverup. A red dragon ate someone near the upper districts. Sanaliel's advisor is a shape-shifter. The list goes on.
For now, your orders are to keep an ear to the ground and maintain a low profile. In general, the scouts would really like you not to make their lives any harder.
» THE ANTS GO MARCHING.
If you manage to find your way into the Pyramid District, the Lemurian upper class is having a military parade and even the lower rungs of society have dragged themselves to see it. The crowd is mixed, though it naturally segregates itself, with the richer moving away from the poorer. Myths fit themselves in where they can; faeries flit through the crowd and a few kappa saunter through, promising eternal blessings for a few spare cucumbers.
The parade itself is a magnificent thing to behold, if you like gaudy splendor and overzealous displays of wealth. Each regiment walks in unified steps, their battalion announced. At various points, the parade stops and the soldiers perform demonstrations of will and might, shooting rockets into the polluted fog of the sky, shredding dummies with advanced weaponry, and sparring with one another.
Occasionally, radicals break through the crowd, throwing smoke bombs that bleed colored mist and sting the eye. They shout slogans like "Freedom for the Crosslands!" and "Justice for Lemuria!" and "Food for the poor!" Sometimes they cause a riot. Sometimes they escape back into the crowd. Sometimes they get shot in the head.
The bodies are dragged away without much comment, like it's a common occurrence.
The parade continues.
» I PREDICT A RIOT.
If you wander into the low districts, you'll find something else entire. Some would argue it's a coincidence that there are bread riots the same day as a military parade. Some wouldn't.
Basic sustenance — rice, bread, beans, and lentils — have skyrocketed in price. Fueled by tax increases and missing supply vans, what it means is the poor are poorer. People slink back to their hovels to beg or barter. And the rest, well...
The rioters come prepared, stomping boots and guns fired into the sky. The majority are teenagers and young adults, commandeering food shops and carts, scaring away (or killing) the owners and giving out food for free (or at a lowered price). Other people try to stop them and the scuffle quickly becomes untenable, escalating into bloodier violence.
What do you do?
» THIS IS SO ILLEGAL.
Maybe you got involved in a riot. Maybe your fingers were a little sticky. Or maybe you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time; the police force is largely apathetic to crime in the low districts and reacts all too readily with violence in the upper districts.
Whatever the case, you've gotten yourself on the wrong side of the Lemurian law and you're handcuffed to (or sharing a cell with) a comrade-in-arms. Maybe it's fortunate that Lemuria has only just begun to distribute power nullification tech to deal with the influx of myths; most officers don't carry it and even fewer would think to use it on someone who looks human.
The guards make no comment, if asked how long they'll hold you. Other prisoners, filthy and dressed in rags, remark they've gone months without knowing.
Escape is really the only feasible option.
» SPECIAL DELIVERY.
If you left items behind at BASE, you can handwave filing a request and COST will deliver them to the bolthole. The scouts will send an alert if necessary and you can pick it up at any time. Just preferably sooner than later, because there isn't exactly a lot of space in that cellar.
Alternatively, if you're a veteran recruit, maybe you just received an unexpected delivery.
no subject
"The older -- no, the middle brother. Your father killed the older one, and my grandfather, when you stole my aunt away. I don't know anything of any Knight of the Laughing Tree."
Your sister and I don't speak of you, he nearly adds.
And yet, the whole country had loved this man, up and down from the Wall to Dorne. Even Maester Aemon had --
He lets out a huff of breath.
no subject
"The middle?" No, that didn't sound right. "He is a good man, a noble man. He was shy with women. His brother had to ask the beauty of Starfall to dance with him." Which showed Rhaegar that Ned would not so easily seduce a woman, even at all. While he wasn't much of a charmer himself, he had found a way to win the she-wolf's heart.
"Were you born before or after the Rebellion?"
no subject
"He was a good man, and a noble man. The lions killed him.
"Me -- I was born in the Rebellion. Near the end, I suppose, a few months after his trueborn son. He never wanted to speak of my mother."
Why tell him even this much? To tell him that he can't answer his questions?
no subject
He stared at Jon Snow, reading his face as though the answer would be written there. It was difficult to know for certain. He resembled Eddard Stark, but so did Lyanna. He had left her, pregnant and waiting for his return. There was no word of her, but if Eddard had a bastard, he was born around the same time his child would have been. How could Eddard go from being too shy to dance with a woman to bedding another? Men were lonely during the war, but Eddard would not have easily given in.
"You were born after the Trident?" There was a feeling looming over him, certainty and excitement. There were dreams after he arrived here, but he had believed them wishful thinking. An image of his Lyanna with a babe in her arm, dark of hair like Rhaenys had been. "Where? Not the North?"
no subject
There's a hint of accusation in that, too. He can hear how bitter and unhappy he sounds, and he's glad, for the moment, that Daenerys isn't here to see this. She's with Chiron somewhere, safe as she's likely to be in Lemuria.
"And the lord of the lions -- he's been Hand again, but it was the Lord of the Vale who was Hand before my father was.
"What do you know of the Trident, my lord?"
That's not accusatory. He knows, more than most, what it's like to be aware of your own death.
Dany, in this man's face, his full lips and kind eyes and curling hair -- that must be why he looks so familiar.
no subject
"What of our child?" He knew deep in the pit of his gut, but he needed it said as well, as much as he had of Lyanna. Eddard, for all of his hatred towards House Targaryen, he would not betray his sister. He would not give her child over to Robert Baratheon. There was enough honor in him to ensure that.
"I know what comes at the end of it and what it means for my House." He rubbed his hands against his knees, still feeling the mud soaking through his armor. "My cousin had more rage and it was one mistake that went into his favor."
cw rape sort of, cw child murder
"I know of no such child. If there had been one -- "
He doesn't want to say it. One way or another, the babe would have been killed, even over his father's protests. That Ned Stark would have been party to such a thing is unimaginable, but Tywin Lannister would have been sure of it, the way he was sure of the deaths of the little prince and princess during the Sack of King's Landing.
Even more unimaginable than the idea of him having a bastard son.
The feeling of great discomfort begins to crawl and expand again, until he feels like it's smothering him.
He asks, quietly, "What was my aunt to you? A girl you stole?"
no subject
He didn't bother to wipe the tears away as they spilled over, the memory enough to take away his restraint. He knew grief in his life and been born among death, it was carried and spread by him, touching those he loved best. Lyanna was not spared, his mother was not spared, were Elia and his children?
Westeros had a taste for tragic tales and what was better than a young woman in a tower who lost her life and her babe? But no word was said of the child and little else about the lady. "Was it her brother that found her? Or were there others?" His cousin must have been elsewhere. If the gods were kind, he had to have given him enough wounds to stagger him and keep his march from continuing for a time.
"I was not made for happiness. I have known precious little of it in my life." He whispered, his voice broken and hoarse with emotion. "She was vibrant." Light set against the darkness, moonlight on soft snow. "She was my wife."
no subject
And what would he do if Dany died? Would he weep like this?
He would weep rivers. His face twists in dismay, and his next words are gentler.
"All I know is that he went to find her after the Sack of the city. When he left the tower, he went to the castle of the Sword of the Morning, to return Dawn to his family. My father had had to fight the Kingsguard, and only he and one other Northman walked away from it."
The Kingsguard. Whether or not they were also there to keep his aunt a captive, they had been guarding a little princeling. Maybe one who had never been born, maybe one who Ned Stark had hidden in the country somewhere, or had smuggled out to Essos.
He knows it's not that, but he pushes away the thought. You know nothing.
"They were there to guard against your cousin, and the lord of lions? As I heard it, the princess of the south was your wife. My aunt was -- she had been willing?"
no subject
"Arthur as well? Was no one spared?" He leans back against the wall, his eyes trailing the ceiling, as though the answer were written there. "If it was only your father and another Northman, Lyanna's secret would have been safe. Had my cousin or the lion been present, the world would know what they were capable of."
He was right then, what he suspected. Blood called to blood and he would know his own if he were seated before him. They were not strangers but one flesh. All of time and space and COST had granted him this at least, another flint to bring him warmth.
"They were there to guard my son and your mother." He answered simply. "Before I left to collect Lyanna, a High Septon annulled my marriage. I...treated Elia as kindly as I could. I wished her no disrespect. After, Lyanna and I left for Dorne."
cw my aunt is my mom and my girlfriend is my aunt and my other girlfriend was right all along!
The discomfort, the twisting in his stomach, the thing he's known almost since the conversation began but hasn't wanted to put the words to... all of it comes crashing down over him, and for a few moments, it's as if the noises of the jail around them go silent under the rush in his ears, his pulse like wind.
He looks at the floor, and his tongue is a thick and clumsy thing, and he's gone ashen.
"No."
Rhaegar Targaryen doesn't just look like Dany: he looks like the son that Dany and Jon could have. He looks, just a little, in the curl of his hair and the kindness and sadness of his eyes, like the face Jon has seen every time he's looked in a mirror or a flat pool of water.
Even as he pushes the word out, he knows it to be true.
no subject
To his great fortune, the Stark coloring had been stronger and bore out against the Targaryen silver. There was a piece of him left in Westeros, some manner of his good intentions and a lasting shadow to the sun that had been Lyanna's love for him. It was forever imprinted on Westeros and would carry one now that the rest had been made into ghosts.
The whole of this boy's life had been a lie, yet here in this cell, he was to accept it. They had ten hours to sort it out, at least. Not that it would ever be enough. "He never told you?" He said Eddard hadn't spoken of his mother, which meant that he did not think it wise to even tell him a little of Lyanna. Was it to spare himself from further lies? It was difficult to say with Eddard.
no subject
He'd said that Jon didn't have his name, but he had his blood. He'd said that he would tell Jon of his mother the next time he saw him. And the next time he saw him would have been, would have been when?
After Jon had taken his vows in the Watch, giving up all claim to lands and title. Fully in a trap, but a trap that would keep him safe. A steward. Is this why? It might even have been at his lord father's own request.
And Lady Stark, she had hated him his entire life... and for what?
Because if she had liked you, there would have been questions.
It's easy to see it all from the vantage point of this cell. He feels sick, and bitter, and angry, and awed at the cost of this, how many men had given their lives for his in one way or another.
"He raised me as his bastard, at his home in the North. As you say, he knew what the lion and stag were capable of."
Arya, Sansa, they're not my sisters. Robb was not my brother. Because I'm not a Stark, I'm --
no subject
"You're no bastard. You are trueborn, as my first son was." Jon didn't need to say more about what Tywin and Robert were capable of. One killed for sport and the other out of greed. He knew what became of his children, he sensed it all on the banks of the Trident.
He tried his best to smile. "In truth, I expected a girl."
no subject
"You're here now, in Lemuria. Are you -- is it because my cell won the ymir, the favor of the spider queen?"
Do you fight for COST?, he means.
no subject
"I heard word there was a blow to the others. Something shown on the network." It didn't need much explanation. It was horrific to see, though he never syomachef killing well.
"They won't accept what happened or their failure with the queen."
no subject
This makes Jon attempt to look up and meet Rhaegar's eyes.
"The mind ravens -- the name I was given is AEGONNER. I've never understood it."
But that sister --
Oh, gods. Jon's gaze drops to the floor again. A trueborn Targaryen, the last living prince. The Kingsguard at the tower where he must have been born. Rhaegar dead, the Mad King dead.
Daenerys is his kin, and his claim to the throne is better than hers.
no subject
Everything clicks into place and he looks at Jon sadly. "Your mother must have named you 'Aegon.'" She gave him a Targaryen name, at least. He didn't know what happened to his first son, but she would never usurp that name unless it was free in some regard. It didn't take much to guess what had become of his first two children.
"This isn't the way I would wish you to learn all of this."
no subject
Still looking at the floor, he begins to nod slowly. All of this makes a terrible kind of sense; it answers every question, it explains every little thing.
It might not be true, still might be that Rhaegar is a Regency operative. But no... what purpose would there be in that? If they knew this much about Jon, they could just do as they would without any of them coming into contact with him. And how could they be sure in advance that he and Rhaegar Targaryen would be tossed in the same little cell together, alone for hours on end? This is a chance meeting, except in that they've been working towards the same goals.
And those tears a minute or two earlier were real. If Jon thinks about it, if he's fair, Rhaegar has been nothing but honest to him, without a hint of malice.
One feeling pushes past his surprise and anger and dismay and all the other emotions he's been feeling as a result of this meeting and the revelations that have come with it, and it only takes a moment for him to understand what it is.
What would it be like to have the chance to meet the son you've never seen, when he's a man, and to have nothing from him but anger that you may not have done much to deserve?
"... I'm sorry."
After the words are out, he looks Rhaegar in the eye.
no subject
"You have nothing to be sorry for." He replied with a sympathetic smile. "This is not the news you expected to hear." And certainly not from him. It was a pity that Eddard Stark said nothing to him, even if there was no chance. At least a little of Lyanna, that she had passed and hadn't given him up.
He could at least thank the gods that Robert Baratheon was kept in ignorance.
"Have you found happiness in your life?"
no subject
"No. I have enough to regret. I'm sorry for the way I spoke of my mother, a moment ago. It was... it was cruel.
"She was a Stark, and a lady of the North, one of my own people. I wanted you to know that I knew you'd hurt her.
"I knew nothing. What I was told, as a boy --"
He stops, frowning.
Had he been told anything at all, or had he only heard things? It was hard to think of Eddard Stark as anything but his father, but whatever he had been -- father, uncle, protector, keeper -- he'd never said a word about Rhaegar Targaryen to Jon, and precious little about his sister Lyanna to anyone.
His next words come out with more hesitation.
"When a man loses, the winners decide how he's remembered. Even more when so few knew the truth to begin with. And I always thought... my mother must have been some serving girl, or a whore. Even good men falter and forget their honor.
"But I dreamed she was a sweet woman, gently born and kind. And I always cursed myself for a fool for those dreams.
"You loved her."
That much is plain, and while Rhaegar doesn't seem like a madman, there is madness in his blood; Jon wants to be certain of the next thing.
"She loved you? Did she tell you so? Tell me, then we'll talk about my life."
no subject
Though no one ever noted or mentioned that he had never had a woman beyond his wife before. While Robert had populated a large number of Westeros through his own exploits. Somehow though, Robert was able to make him into a lecher while his actions were viewed as righteous.
All of it because his father's suspicions and madness.
He listened to Jon, frustrated with Eddard Stark. Nothing at all? He didn't expect Lyanna to be mentioned very much, but to let his son wonder if he was the child of a whore, it was disappointing. Did Eddard Stark have no thoughts about how this would shape Jon's outlook?
"I do." There is no past tense in his words. "I love her deeply." And a part of him hoped that someday she might be brought in by COST. If they wanted a fierce warrior, there was no one better. "She was a kind and strong woman. She never stood by when others were being tormented. You never heard of the Knight of the Laughing Tree?" He asked, amazed that it wasn't shared among the Starks.
He smiled, "Words aren't always necessary. She loved me, I know it. It was her desire to run away and made plans with me to do so, telling me where she would be and when. How else would I know she was near Riverrun? If it eases your mind, those words were whispered often between us. Words are wind though and actions show more."
no subject
He can't be glad for almost any other part of this -- not yet -- but it occurs to him to be glad that, if she hadn't wanted him, Robert Baratheon had never really gotten his hands on Lyanna Stark. If all of this is true, she'd had the man and the love she had wanted, even if it didn't last.
How often can those things last, when swords are ringing in more than play?
"It eases my mind to think that she might have been happy for more than a night, if even that long. That she didn't see me coming as a burden. But no, I don't know your tree knight story."
By now, he's moved a little closer, as if he wants to be in the same room with Rhaegar for any reason other than to hurt him.