all this energy calling me

[agogemod]

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

Comments

[servant]

[merlin offers him a nod of thanks for the shirt, pulling it on over his head as he stands. he looks around them, but it's true. at most he just catches a glimpse of people who've gotten their things and moved on.]

I suppose...there are plenty of other things to be unsettled about.

[his state of dress or undress the least of his concerns, which is a less than cheerful thought. but merlin does take a small measure of solace in one thing:]

You're new as well? How are you faring?

[mercurialize]

[He grabs some things for himself now, resting them over his right stub of a lower arm.]

Well enough, all things considered. This place doesn't seem so bad.

[Better than some places he's lived, but it doesn't take very much to beat alleyways, abandoned mills, and sewers.]

What'd they tell you to convince you to come?

[servant]

I was certainly expecting the other side of the Veil to be different.

[different and possibly worse. merlin offers him a smile, looking curiously but quickly at his arm. his smile fades again at the question, turning him solemn.]

I was a servant for a prince, one who I hope - I know will become a great king one day. They told me that his children would be targeted. I'd like to protect them however I can.

[destiny is troublesome and neverending, it would seem.]

What about you - sorry, I haven't asked your name. I'm Merlin.

[mercurialize]

Kylar.

[He extends his left hand to shake. Not exactly formal, maybe even an insult to some, but something tells him extending a stump for a hand instead wasn't going to go over any better. Besides, it's currently acting as a clothes hanger.]

They prove it to you at all? That there might be harm if you didn't come, I mean.

[servant]

[merlin doesn't take offense. it's nice enough that someone does extend a hand for him to shake. normally they just drop their things at his feet to be washed or put away.]

They haven't proven anything. [he admits quietly.] But if there's even a chance of it, I need to prevent it.

[maybe he can still serve arthur and albion in some capacity. he hesitates before finally asking.]

What happened to your arm, or would you rather not talk about it?

[mercurialize]

[He shrugs.]

I cut it off.

[It's not the whole story, not even close. But it's the best summary of it all. Don't mind the subtle subject change.]

You must really appreciate this prince to come here on his behalf. He didn't want to come himself?

[servant]

[...that certainly wasn't the answer that merlin was expecting, but it is the one that begs more questions. he has worked with the court physician for enough years to know about the pain that comes with amputated limbs, the death that often follows. for him to have cut it off himself, for whatever reason, says something about his strengths.

but merlin takes note of the subject change, and resists the urge to pursue the subject.]

Oh, he uhm...there's other things that Arthur needs to tend to. Important things.

[like becoming king.]

I don't mind coming in his stead.