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

[byhand]

His expression brightens. "That will be... refreshing. The Achilles I knew, the one I trained," a sigh, but this is an old wound, "is quite dead, and has been for millennia. But it is always nice to see him again, in some form."

[horsepowered]

"I'm sorry that he predeceased you."

For Chiron, the myth was the truth. He died first from the Hydra poison, an accident at Heracles' hands. Achilles had witnessed the suffering endured from that same poison and then the rest...

...the rest was why he stood talking to himself. "And Chariclo?"

[byhand]

Chiron's smile grows fonder, if such things were possible. "Safe," is all he says at first, and then, "in a location I'd prefer not to share."

He supposes he ought to explain the rest, to the best of his ability. Were their positions reversed, he'd want to know.

"Carystus has sided with the Regency, against my wishes; I've not seen him since. Endeïs aids us, though I cannot share how. Little Hippe works with the Nereids; do not tell your Achilles, he seems quite obsessed with them. And my dear Ocyrhoe has passed from this world."

[horsepowered]

"As if I'm going to breathe word of this information to anyone else, nor ask for elaboration on any of the points."

It's a promise, and nothing he intends to share. Not even with Achilles, and that was before the comment about the Nereids. Chiron has a distinct feeling of where that track goes, and that is something for Achilles to bring up and discuss if he so chooses.

At the mention of Ocyrhoe, there's a very long silence, Chiron going entirely still. He doesn't want details. He also doesn't want to offer sympathy, because that's probably been offered time and again.

"Your grief on that matter is mine as well."

[byhand]

There is a moment of silence, where the Sergeant dips his head in acknowledgement. And then he's himself again, smiling and fond.

Over the endless decades, he's learned to deal with the passage of time by focusing on the positive, somewhat relentlessly.

"I am sorry I cannot put you in contact with any of them. It could compromise us all, believe me."

[horsepowered]

"I wouldn't expect it of you. Besides, they're most familiar with you, not myself. The whole experience would likely be far stranger than any of us need to deal with." Chiron folds his arms across his chest, and a very small smile finds it's way back onto it's face. "It's just good to know their statuses."

There is a greater liklihood in seeing the Heroic Spirits of his other students, rather than his family. This information is the only true bridge to them, and it's more than Chiron could have ever asked for.

"Thank you for sharing even that much."

[byhand]

"Of course," he says, because it's literally the least he can do. He sighs. "I know it can be a difficult thing, to be separate from them."

thanks for horse family emotions i didn't need that tonight

[horsepowered]

"Death does that," is the response, simple and stating the obvious. "Being summoned by different powers does as well."

It might be a dig coming from anyone else, but Chiron's not interested in insults. It's just an observation. First he was summoned by magi, and now COST. In the first instance, he's had to face his best known student. Now? He's just talking to himself.

The fates are a trio that truly cannot be predicted.

"I'm going to presume you're informed of my own circumstances."

🐎🐎🐎🐎

[byhand]

"Ah," Chiron says, confused, and then regretful. "So you lived in a world where Ocyrhoe's prophecy came to pass?"

What a strange, terrible, troubling thing. He bows his head again, in deference to the other's suffering.

"I know something of it. Our operatives do their best, but our resources are limited."

[horsepowered]

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Hydra poison, which was pain beyond words. The whole thing has lead to a very different afterlife, as you're witnessing now."

The deference is appreciated, and Chiron nods briefly to acknowledge it.

"In one reality, it's possible to summon spirits of legend. Myself and Achilles were called forth, and in our particular circumstances, also were pitted against each other. I'm grateful for the change in circumstance."

[byhand]

Chiron's expression continues on, worried and annoyed in turn. He can't help but blame the idiot poets who told told this fable as fact, who blamed his daughter into death, who- It's all long past, now.

Except, apparently, it isn't.

"A terrible burden," he says. He knows if he were summoned in such a way, he'd fight it with every ounce of his being, and lay down his life for Achilles. But the centaur in front of him has died to escape a pain far greater, it sounds, than his. How does that change someone, how does that shift their priorities?

And that is, of course, assuming they started out the same.

The Sergeant sighs. "I am grateful for you as well. I will do my utmost to ensure you never fight him again. Other gods, I cannot guarantee... Olympus has not sided with us in this war."

[horsepowered]

A burden now coupled with a healthy dose of needing to re-evaluate the Grail War itself. There is little doubt in Chiron's mind that had he not dealt with poison and kept his immortality, then he might be in very similar circumstances to himself. And here he was, wishing to regain that gift that he gave up so many years ago.

The question of re-evaluating that wish comes into Chiron's mind. There's little doubt that he will need to spend time with that thought, but for now, in this moment, there's no opportunity to.

"I appreciate it," he says. There's a near weariness in his voice, brought upon by his own thoughts. The tone goes away almost immediately.

"Mm. That was my next question, actually. Is it all of Olympus, or are we looking at a division among them, like Troy was?"

[byhand]

Chiron sniffs, laughter mixed with very, very old sarcasm. "The Olympians, ever hungry for power, grasped at the opportunities the Regency offered, to exist without need for belief. There is some division, but not as much as I would like. Athena is the only god who fights for us outright. The others either hew to the Regency's control, or remain neutral, like Artemis and Hestia."

[horsepowered]

How reassuring. Chiron's own sigh was definitely more equine than human, hardly on purpose and something he hadn't done in human form until this very moment. Athena would probably have thought things through in the longest possible terms, but then...

Something like that promise is the kind of thing too good to be true. Which meant the next question is the most obvious one in the world.

"Is there a catch to that offer?"

[byhand]

"There is always a catch," Chiron says, a grin creeping onto his expression. It's good to meet another clever man, even if thinking so is a tad conceited. "But only if you care about... moral boundaries, in this case."

[horsepowered]

"This is is Olympus that we're talking about," Chiron states flatly. It's nearly deadpan, but really, it didn't take more than a second's glance to know that Olympus was, is, and always would be a continuing soap opera entitled Gods Behaving Badly than a group of deities with true virtue.

"What's the catch they're willing to overlook?"

[byhand]

"Their legacies perverted into other means. Their meanings changed. Their altars perverted. The Regency will absorb them, change them into something else entirely, something that better suits their needs as weapons of war."

Chiron sighs.

"But they may live, so they do not care."

[horsepowered]

Chiron's reaction is muted. His eyes go slightly wide in surprise, but the rest of him remains perfectly still. Time travel would make these things all too easy to do, and there's little question of motive for the Olympians. Gods need believers. That has always been so.

One detail does surprise him though. Vanity. As much as the gods were foolish, they were too proud. Changing so drastically just to survive, that was a detail that he found strange.

"Arrogance didn't prevent them from making their decision to change their very definitions?"

[byhand]

"I could not explain it. I find it all distasteful."

He shakes his head, and watches as one of the nearby crows mimics him. It brings a smile to his face, clearing his mood just slightly.

"I suppose they have lived so long in weakened states, the prospect of any sort of strength trumps their sense of identity? Or perhaps they no longer remember the glory of what they once were. I can only say I am glad I am no god."

[horsepowered]

"The glory suggestion would go against everything I know of them and their memories
I think we're both aware of their ability to hold grudges," Chiron said. The crow catches his eye as well, but there's no need to question the bird's presence. They clearly go where they like.

"But true enough that we're lucky to not have their position." It feels strange saying we when in the end, it just means I.

"Are they the only gods to accept this poisoned offer?"

[byhand]

"Of course not. Wotan nearly leapt at the chance. More rules for him to natter over with Fricka."

He rolls his eyes at the mention of these two, gods he clearly has low opinions of.

"Loge sits on the sidelines, shouting insults as he's wont. Though I am pleased to say Shiva and Durga see sense, and head up their forces. More of this I cannot tell you, of course, but it is not going terribly. The Watcher and her lover seem content to observe, thankfully. Kali rallies her troops." He grins. "It is not to unbalanced as it may seem."

[horsepowered]

The idea of dealing with multiple pantheons and their own intertwined dramas did not make Chiron's heart leap. If anything, it's an added layer to an already complicated situation, and one that clearly did not make his living self thrilled either if the eyeroll was anything to go by.

"The word did not even enter my mind, I must admit."

There's more hidden by nature of the work. Those aren't secrets Chiron wants to have access to, lest he put himself and his self's family in danger, but there is something he can offer.

"If in the course of events, you need to trade on your name, I'm happy to play decoy."

[byhand]

Chiron shakes his head. "My name means little, these days, but I appreciate it all the same. Still, I would not risk an agent for a fool's errand."

[horsepowered]

"I'd expect a more clever ploy than just an errand."

Was that a joke? Or a compliment? Who's to say. But in the end, the offer will always remain on the table, as it's easier for a Heroic Spirit to take blows. There's a look of stillness on his face, giving away nothing of the building torrent of thoughts in Chiron's own head.

[byhand]

Chiron snickers. "That reminds me of a poem, you know." Maybe to anyone else, he'd keep this to himself, or at least consider it. Grothia certainly grows tired of his endless references to books and plays. But who can he speak with freely, if not himself? "And so I sacrificed, myself to myself, upon that tree from which none know where its roots runs."