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Entry tags:
- * dreamy,
- * npc: agent young,
- * npc: commander grothia,
- * npc: sergeant chiron,
- * setting: base,
- achilles [fate],
- akira kurusu [persona],
- arthur [inception],
- ashitaka [princess mononoke],
- daenerys targaryen [asoiaf],
- hei [darker than black],
- henry cooldown [no more heroes],
- keyleth [dungeons & dragons],
- kylar stern [the night angel trilogy],
- mordred [fate],
- noctis lucis caelum [final fantasy],
- ryuji sakamoto [persona],
- siegfried [fate],
- soldier 76 [overwatch],
- travis touchdown [no more heroes],
- yoshitsugu otani [samurai warriors]
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.
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
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
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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."
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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."
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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?"
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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?"
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"What's the catch they're willing to overlook?"
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Chiron sighs.
"But they may live, so they do not care."
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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?"
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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."
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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?"
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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."
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"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."
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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.
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If it was prophecy, then it was on him for making the suggestion to begin with.
"Except neither one of us has ever had to act so extremely for wisdom. Let it always be so."
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Chiron lets out a long breath. There's no need for him to breathe, not when he's a spirit, but it's like letting steam escape. Needed.
"The Moriai have always made it easier to look back and say such things."
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At any rate, they were there. And it would always be so.
As for prophecy, the centaur had defied at least one to Chiron's knowledge, the one that allowed them to speak like this in the first place.
"Be as it is, I do trust that you've things to do and I have made too many demands of your time."
There was plenty to talk about, but Chiron also knew that he needed time apart from himself, given what was covered so far.
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But for now, Chiron needed space. His last gesture was a polite nod, and then he began walking away. The destination was unknown and in truth, irrelevant. There was far too much to think about to factor that in.