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

[hakanai]

Which is why it's so interesting that they'd chose to fetch something like my hat and leave it on my bed.

[Yoshitsugu taps the golden symbol, his kamon, that adorns said hat and huffs a brief, quiet laugh. He watches Chiron work but does not actually start helping (in part because he really can't fold so well but also because, well, why bother when someone else is at it already).]

A strange use of resources, isn't it? [He folds his arms.] Home comforts are good for morale, but then you look at this pile of clothing and wonder if the effort would be better spent elsewhere.

[horsepowered]

[Chiron's eyes go up to Yoshitsugu's hat, and gives is a moment's look over. It is distinct, and he's right. It's a very strange use of resources.]

It might be, it might not. It may be a matter of knowing overall allocations and then making specific judgement one way or the other.

[hakanai]

And what of a magic book containing a single-use spell for making stale bread taste fresh?

[Yoshitsugu would dearly love to know where his new tome came from and why it was created. Most of its contents are so specific and trivial that they have no practical use whatsoever; it's the sort of thing he might create, if he knew how.]

I can see no use for that, unless they intend to surprise us with a meal consisting of the last remnants of a bakery from France.

[horsepowered]

Field rations could likely use that?

[Okay, so you got him. Chiron shrugs, unsure of what the real answer truly is. That's an extremely specific use.]

What other spells are in said book?

[hakanai]

There's one that can summon religious garments.

[Beneath his facecloth, Yoshitsugu is smiling to himself. One might make the case that this could help in spy-work but this next thing he mentions? Most definitely not.]

Another to inspire poetry.

[And it didn't mention that the poetry will be good, either.]

[horsepowered]

...Poetry. [Chiron repeats the word, not incredulous but definitely unsure of why that might be included. He frowns, tilting his head.]

Does it say what kind?

[hakanai]

No, it does not.

[Yoshitsugu shakes his head.]

It could be good, bad, strange or generic. There's no further detail. Doesn't it make you curious?

[horsepowered]

It does. And it simply appeared?

[hakanai]

Yes, along with my hat and a few boxes of mochi.

[He idly taps his facecloth.]

They were neatly placed on a pillow in my room.

[horsepowered]

How very strange. I imagine that as far as your hat goes, that'd require no small amount of effort in order to retrieve it.

What curious priorities.

[hakanai]

Hence my intrigue.

[An amused huff.]

Watch your room. Something oddly specific might wash in with the flow at any time.

[horsepowered]

[Chiron can't even be sure what that might be. He was never a centaur of personal items or the like. He has a former student here as well. He raises an eyebrow when it becomes clear to him that the only thing that might surprise him would be to return to four legs.]

Well, I hope it comes with a more clear purpose than your mystery book.

[hakanai]

[Yoshitsugu laughs, eyes sparkling with some kind of mischief.]

If it doesn't, do let me know. Maybe I'll find a purpose in it for you.

[horsepowered]

[Chiron's eyebrows go up slightly, and his laugh is soft, but very warm.]

Now that I might actually look forward to seeing.