agogelogs | all this energy calling me

WHO? Everybody!
WHAT? Welcome home, nerds.
WHEN? Outside time and space, in the aether between dimensions.
ANYTHING ELSE? Violence, as always. Please warn in subject lines for anything beyond physical violence, and move to a personal journal if things go beyond PG-13.

TOUCH BASE;

backfill armed services echelon
COST re-appropriated vehicle 854A-5.2

read the base setting infopage

DEPARTING FRANCE

The order comes out the second day after the Tuileries is sacked:

PACK UP, GET READY TO MOVE OUT. WE'VE DONE ALL WE CAN HERE.

DEPLOYMENT: BASE. WE NEED TO RESTOCK. BE PREPARED FOR MORE TRANSFERS ON ARRIVAL.

STAY SAFE. TIME-STEP EXPECTED TO BEGIN WITHIN THE HOUR. FOR THOSE OF YOU NEW TO COST: FIND A SECLUDED SPOT, AND TRY NOT TO EAT ANYTHING BEFORE THE JUMP.

The Time-Step

The transfer begins, and it starts like a vibrating heat on the collar bone, not painful, not to start with. Just a hum of sensation. But the vibration spreads. Veteran COST soldiers often refer to this phenomena as 'the buzz'. The sensation builds, feeling not unlike standing near a great engine, or the wind rattling the branches of a great tree. There is long a moment of motion sickness, and one cannot always be sure if it is you that is shaking from the inside out, or the world that is shaking you from the outside in. It may just 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. Some swear they feel a touch of the divine; the eyes of the eternal look down upon you. Ancient bones rattle just out of earshot, cold and brittle. Or maybe it's an illusion brought on by powerful technology grafted into your skin.

One thing is for sure: One moment you are here, and the next, you are not.

Nausea is commonly accompanied by this shift. One moment, you're in the cold of France. The next, you're in a temperature regulated hallway, looking not unlike a very poorly put together space station. Droids rush up and down the long hallway, fixing broken bits of machinery or just chattering with each other. Crows sit on high ledges, looking down, watching.

(For those of you who just apped in and didn't participate in the TDM, you'll appear alongside your comrades now, standing in this long hallway filled with droids and crows and men and women in clothing from 18th century France. Of course, you'll be wearing the minimal COST athletic issued underwear, and holding whatever one item you were allowed to bring. Surprise!)

At the end of the hall is a long table with heaps of used clothing on it. The sizes and styles vary, along with color and detail (AKA none look exactly like the linked pics, they're just a baseline, use your ~imagination~). One thing's for certain, all the clothing has been used before, with holes darned and worn edges. They're all clean, though, and each bears a single patch with the words 'KNOW YOUR RIGHTS, THE FUTURE IS UNWRITTEN' and 'COST sewn into the side.

They're not exactly high fashion, but they might be more comfortable than the late 18th century digs you're still wearing, if you showed up in France. Or, you know, the underwear.

Meet the Drill Sergeant

There is the echoing sound of hooves, and a strange creature emerges from a nearby room: a centaur. He smiles kindly, happy to see you've arrived. He has a significant limp in his back left leg, causing his hoof-beats to pitch an irregular rhythm as he walks slowly through the hall.

"Hello, all!" His voice is kind, but it's pitched to carry. "You may know me as Sergeant-- I am in technicality a drill sergeant. You may call me Chiron, if you wish, though I'm to understand some may know others with the same name." He laughs, amused. "In any case, welcome home. It is not much, but we have tried to make it hospitable for you in your time here. Your room assignments have been uploaded onto your BCEs, along with some technological upgrades we've been testing out. There are a few prototypes and experiments you may find in your rooms as well. Our agents are..." He looks up at the crows. "We are a curious people."

He looks over to the table stacked with clothing. "Please pick out what suits you, and make adjustments as needed. If you have any complaints, and wish to change your rooming situation, your username, anything of that nature, please send me a request. I am also known in some capacity as a trainer-"

One of the crows caws, and it sounds almost sarcastic.

Sergeant Chiron ignores it. "Hm. If you wish for me to make a training regiment for you, to better your skill in this organization, please let me know. But for now: I am to understand your last mission was... tumultuous. Please, rest and acclimate yourself to BASE."

He turns to leave, before stopping-- "And please be kind to the crows. They remember slights."

The crows' cawing sounds like laughter.

HOTSPOTS

There's been some technical difficulty since the prognosticators had their little meltdown. Coolant is in short supply, and some of the corridors of BASE are a little warmer than others. Pleasantly warm. Comfortably so, like walking through a sunbeam. In these hotspots, it feels comfortable and snug.

Characters walking through them will feel the urge to lie down and rest, maybe take a quick little nap.

Sleeping in these spots will cause unsettling or confusing dreams, but not nightmares. Dreams in these hotspots-- and sleeping in these hotspots will never be dreamless-- will be hard to remember upon waking, but they seemed very... strange. Almost as though you were intruding on something important but private.

Yet you can't quite remember it when you wake.

If you're clever and watchful, you'll notice the crows avoid these areas, so you can avoid them as well before you're seized by the urge to lie down and nap.

Particularly watchful characters may notice the hotspots are growing in size and number as the days wear on.

(More information about these and the forthcoming December plot will be coming in an infopost on the 12th, but if you have any questions now, feel free to ask here!)

read the base setting infopage

NAV. NETWORK LOGS OOC PLURK DISCORD

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Would it be relevant to mention that would cause him extreme pain? He looks Mordred over. Probably not.

Maybe... distraction.

"You remind me of another who used to ask after rides constantly. I believe you know them, in fact."

If only. She tilts her head, confused.

"Huh?" It's clear she has no idea who he's talking about... not that she has any idea about most things. "One of the other knights? They never mentioned a centaur."

Considering she knows Achilles' real name, she has no excuse for not putting it together. She's just a moron.

"No, I never knew any knight of the round table before now." He says with a laugh. "But many of my charges begged for a ride when they were much younger than you. Achilles was particularly adamant on the subject."

She scoffs. "Hmph. Well, I'm the best of them anyway, so that doesn't matter."

Obviously. Mordred knows he means younger than her apparent age, not her real one, but trying to imagine Achilles — the Achilles she knows, green hair and fuckboy behaviour — as a child first makes her snort, then, before she can stop it, start to double over with laughter.

"Seriously? Rider?" She glances up, still unable to straighten her stance in between laughter. "That's too good! What size was he? Something like this?"

She holds her hand out, about a foot off the ground.

"Perhaps," is all Chiron will say. His smile is fond, though. He enjoys the girl's enthusiasm. "I raised him from when he was a child of two, to when he went off to war at twenty. He wanted rides less as time went on, but he never stopped entirely."

"A two year old Rider... that's too much! Imagine him trying to climb on you!"

She's practically on the floor at this point. She has very little understanding of the depth of their relationship, though she means no insult by her laughter... it's just hilarious to her. Please understand.

Taking a deep breath, she looks up at Chiron with a huge grin on her face.

"After spending that long with him, I bet you know all kinds of embarrassing stories, riiiight? It'd boost morale for everyone if you told some!" Except Achilles, but who cares about him?

Chiron can guess, if only because he's dealt with callous children before. Feral things, he has something like empathy for them, being the only one of his species to have, well, empathy.

Also, she underestimates how much he likes telling stories about his charges.

"Do you know the tale of when he had to be dressed like a woman?"

Her eyes light up even more, if that's possible, and she actually goes quiet; though only in shock.

"No," she says, finally. Her grin widens. "Tell me that one."

Chiron knows how she intends to use this tale; he's not stupid. But he doesn't see the harm in it; it's well known by all, and sweet. And if Achilles' pride is hurt by it, well. He always had too much of that.

"It was prophesied that he would die in the war, you know. Troy. His mother and I both feared this greatly, though I had of course trained him up for this task," something like guilt or remorse creeps into his voice, but it's gone just as quickly. "We sent him to the court of Skyros, where Thetis-- his dear mother-- pretended Achilles was her only daughter Pyrrha (for his red hair, of course). Pyrrha had been trained as a warrior girl, Thetis said, and needed now to learn the ways of femininity so she could marry, so it would be best for the girl to go to Skyros and be the lady-in-waiting to the beautiful princess Deidamia."

Mordred knows that if she starts laughing now, she'll never stop. So she holds it together as Chiron talks, even as things get better and better (and worse and worse for Achilles). But the idea of Achilles learning the ways of femininity — acting like the ladies she saw at court, demure and looking for some high ranking husband, she loses it. Again.

"Did he wear a dress, too?" Asking the important questions. Before Chiron can even answer, more follow: "Did he marry? Did the other ladies realize? There's no way he could keep that up for long."

This cannot go on for any longer, unfortunately.

Achilles had been approaching these two, excited to see that his great-grandfather from another universe was talking to one of his prospective wives and seemingly enjoying her company.

He has his hand raised, ready to wave and call to them, but then he overhears a part of their conversation and completely falters. And lurches towards Mordred to try and cover her mouth with his hand.

"That's enough!! You don't need to know about any of that!"

This is just delightful. Chiron laughs, loud and genuine. "He certainly tried to marry the princess. And managed a few things only married couples generally do."

He fucked the princess, Mordred.

There are more details to the story, but considering Achilles seems rather annoyed by it, he'll leave it at that. "Are you truly so embarrassed? After all these years?"

Goddammit, Achilles. Mordred immediately yanks his hand away from her mouth. "I'm not the one telling the story, idiot Rider!"

She's just the one asking for embarrassing details... but Chiron seems more than happy to share them. A shame that last particular detail goes over her head (or maybe it's for the best; she doesn't need to think about that sort of thing in front of Achilles).

"He doesn't like seeming foolish. Seriously, you think he'd be used to it by now."

It'd been a kneejerk reaction to slap a hand over the girl's mouth, and he's honestly surprised he didn't get a well-aimed elbow to the gut for it. But he relents, dropping his hand and stepping away to settle both of his hands over his hips. He's trying to maintain some dignity here, smiling, albeit strained.

"Come on. Aren't those kinds of stories mine to tell? It's not like you -- or the other Chiron, I mean, were around to see it for yourself at the time."

He's turning red slowly, blood rushing to his cheeks. But he fights it, tries to will himself to cool down, but the embarrassment is overpowering.

"I did not realize you felt so strongly on the matter." It's the honest answer. If he truly felt this man would be embarrassed by it...

But it's not his Achilles, not his boy, not his ward, his great grandson raised as his own.

He dips his head. "I apologize."

all this energy calling me

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