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

Clothes

[frogfractions]

[Prelati's rummaging with all the grace and enthusiasm of someone who really doesn't care what she's looking at, and more about what it could be. A coat - no, the material's too cheap, too ground down by time. She tosses it back onto the pile, distinctly unfolded, then glances over at -]

Ah. Chiron. [She turns her head and grabs the shirt, balls it up in her hand before tossing it over to him, underhanded.]

Thank you for your help, earlier. If I'd left for Nantes on my own... well, basically, you saved me some trouble.

Is that shirt alright for you? There's a hole in the chest. Some people might appreciate the view, though.

[horsepowered]

[There's no delay in Chiron's reaction time. He catches the shirt immediately, and holds it out in front of him to inspect it. That's...that's not a hole he's pretty sure that's someone taking a very deep cut from a bladed weapon.]

I'm not sure what people you're speaking of.

[The shirt gets carefully folded and set aside.]

As sorry as I am about forcing you to cancel your trip, I'm glad it worked out in the long term.

[frogfractions]

Don't be. Even if I could have gone, it might not have been a good idea. Some things are better left buried, to put it bluntly.

[And Gilles having his resting place burned to the ground without anyone really thinking about him - that's probably what he deserves. Poor fool.

She glances over at Chiron as he folds the shirt to the side anyway.]

I could see about fixing that one up for you, in return. I'm going to be experimenting with these - [She gestures to a small pile she's making, a stack of whatever few delicate things she could find. Nothing fancy, but it's the cream of the crop, in her mind.] so I may as well take a look at that, too.

Unless you really do want to show off your muscles.

[horsepowered]

I'm not sure that there's any value in showing them off.

[It seemed strange to want to do that, and in truth, Chiron was mostly just focused on the practical.]

But if your experiments are successful, I might need to ask for your hand at needlework.

[frogfractions]

[Chiron seems like a good guy - as much as Prelati's capable of judging such things - but she's befuddled by just how impossible it is to get under his skin. She blinks at him for a second, then shrugs it off.]

Mm. A little more complicated than needlework, but I should be capable of that, too.

You are broadly built. It's useful, obviously, but I've only found one or two things that might fit you. [Not that she's really been looking, mind. She rolls the thought over.]

A friend of mine was very tall, especially for a woman. She had difficulty finding clothes, as well. And of course, given my height, a lot of what I wore back home was meant for children...

I wonder who exactly fits into most clothes?

[horsepowered]

Most of the trousers that are in my size are rather torn, I'm afraid.

[Chiron's smile is apologetic when he reveals that. It wouldn't be easier if he did't have to deal with pants, just different.]

I'm unsure myself. Perhaps the people they're intended for don't truly exist, and the rest of us simply have to make ourselves fit the best we can.

[frogfractions]

Ha. It's the same over here. I enjoy my body, at the end of the day, but I do wish Saint-Germain had thought to make me taller. Then again, a smaller body uses less energy. I did tell her I only cared about being able to study.

[It's a series of very weird statements without any context, and she knows it - she's wondering if she can at least get his curiosity going.]

You didn't tell me the Sergeant had the same name as you, by the way. [Speaking of curiosity.] Or were you surprised as well?

[horsepowered]

Ah, foresight on the matter didn't occur to you. [But yes, there is some curiosity. Chiron's eyebrows rise slightly.] May I ask what the process was?

[His suspicion is necromancy, but....

...ah. That. Well, all cards on the table.]

It's been unexpected running into myself.

[frogfractions]

Alchemy. She constructed this body for me of the same materials all human bodies are made of, plus a few extras. [She wants to go into more detail - but, well. That second part gets her curiosity going.]

You're the same person? [That explains more than it should. She hums at the thought. If he's the same person, then - well. She really hopes they don't recruit her past self, back when she had her original body.]

... I suppose it would be strange. Is it difficult to talk about? I could ask the sergeant about it, if you don't feel up to giving answers. [She does owe Chiron one - and she can relate to the discomfort of self-examination. Especially when it's so literal.]

[horsepowered]

Hm. That sounds like a length process. Did you inquire about additional details, or did you decide that there was a limit to what you wanted to know about the process?

[Same person, just different bottom halves. Chiron's honestly found little problem in discussing the matter. There's a single key difference between them, and that makes all the difference.]

Not so much. Where we stand now is completely different, even if our general stories are the same.

[frogfractions]

Mm. [She lets it drop anyway - talking about herself is easier, and talking about Saint-Germain, even just her actions, is as natural as breathing. Besides, the sergeant would probably know more anyway.]

I know most of the details. They're not even very complicated. Most of the things that make up a human body can be bought at a store, or extracted from other things. There's not even a need for human sacrifice, if your goal is just transferring a soul to an empty vessel. Or, rather - the original body is the sacrifice. It's a surprisingly convenient bit of science.

[She's rambling, a little, but she likes talking. She goes back to sorting through the clothes as she does, gives her hands something to do.]

The real difficulty is in the finesse. Even one teaspoon more or less and I'd have been condemned to a slow and painful death. Twice over.

[horsepowered]

[Chiron's surprised that the matter disappears so quickly. He would have anticipated at least one question about why his bottom half wasn't Chiron's bottom half, but so be it.]

I was going to inquire about the matter of the soul. How is that extracted from...wherever it is originally housed? Forgive me if my terminology is incorrect.

[frogfractions]

The soul's a sort of energy. It comes from within the body, stretching out from your brain and your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. There's plenty of stimuli it reacts to - strong emotion, resonant noise - but actually removing it is a simple method.

[She brings her finger up to her neck, drags it across, clicks her tongue sharply - like the fall of the guillotines back in France.]

Of course, if you don't have a proper container prepared, the soul will disperse into energy, formless and thoughtless. But since the new body's right there, the soul just has to be coerced into its new shell - and since the soul wants to have a form, the same way a human enjoys being alive, it's not that hard.

See? I told you it was simple. [Prepare a new body, shoot the old one in the face. Easy.]

[horsepowered]

And so in death, the soul remains and lingers near the original body?

[The method makes sense. But what Chiron's most curious about is location, location, location.]

And how does time factor in. Say, if there's one hundred years between death and the alchemical act is performed?

[frogfractions]

The soul lingers, but only for a limited time. After just a few minutes, it would already have dispersed. Think of it like steam, or smoke. It's visible as it rises, but it thins out quickly, mixing with the air.

[Only, you know, it's a person. She hums at the thought, trying to think back. There's Fine, of course. She didn't know how exactly her resurrection worked, but there was a delay. But the issue there is that Fine kept her soul... ah.]

If the soul was still whole, you could do it a thousand years later without any issues. Of course, the problem is keeping the soul whole... it isn't something you could do after the fact. You'd have to contain them within a few minutes of their death.

Thinking of someone?

[horsepowered]

[It's fascinating. Chiron's listening keenly, the whole process being something he'd never dream of doing but something truly special to hear about.]

I see. I feel as if your Saint-Germain must have spent a great many years focused only on research and understanding these mechanics alone.

[He does wonder how long Prelati took for resurrection, but that's private. Her question is met with a thoughtful hum.]

Not so much. One of my students was punished by the gods for bringing the dead back to life, something I never taught him. The mechanics are simply interesting.

[frogfractions]

Ha. The gods would have plenty of punishments for my group.

[Frankly, Prelati thinks she might have already endured them. Or been about to endure them. Regardless, nothing for it at this point.]

Saint-Germain's been alive for much longer than I have. I haven't asked her the details, but she's at least two thousand years old. Compared to that, all my research is just a blip. And a lot of what I do know, I was taught by her.

Who did your student bring back? Resurrection is a little different from soul transference. Much harder.

[horsepowered]

Two thousand years is an excellent head start for your own discoveries though.

[At the question, Chiron's fairly straight forward. At least, to begin with.]

Asclepius brought back Hippolytus, I believe. The mechanics were never explained, and it resulted in Asclepius' own death. [Chiron's sigh is disappointed, more at the situation than the act.]

A shame. He surpassed me in medicine, and could have gone on to do even more.

[frogfractions]

Mm. Maybe if he'd had two thousand years.

[She's glad Chiron doesn't seem judgmental, at least - research, progress, these things are important. And the morals of society, of God, can often restrict those things. It'd be one thing if those morals actually protected people, but...]

How much do you know about medicine, then? You didn't seem the type, to be honest.

[horsepowered]

[There's a pause from Chiron, one that shows genuine bafflement. He thought this was well known?

At any rate, he moves on from the confusion quickly.]

Asclepius was the god of medicine. And my student in that art. I'm curious about how I don't seem the type.

[frogfractions]

You're -

[... Oh. Wow. Asclepius. Right.

They'd moved on from the situation with the Sergeant so quickly that she'd forgotten what he's said - Chiron was the same as the Sergeant. Which meant he was a centaur. Which meant that when he said he was Chiron -

It was facts she'd put together before, but somehow she hadn't bothered to give them actual context. She at least has the grace to look embarrassed.]

... Forgive me. My mind's in a jumble. I know who you are, I just... [She'd been distracted, is the thing. She'd read all about him, but alchemy occupied her mind - and not the medicinal uses. And then the past few years hadn't even given her time to study, and then the past few months had been... painful. Even now, she's still trying to regain her bearings, remember that she's a scholar.]

Pretend I didn't say that. I have a reputation to protect.

heading to work now but i can't stop laughing at this entire exchange

[horsepowered]

[Chiron's confusion melts into a reassuring smile. It's been a very long day for everyone, it seems, and knowledge about particular bits and bobs of mythology really isn't a priority except for well, himself and maybe Achilles right now.]

Happily forgotten.

prelati's trying so hard

[frogfractions]

If you tell a soul, you'll be haunted for the next seven generations. By me. Since I'm immortal, remember.

[Somehow Prelati's managed to forget herself - she's reminded of how she was when she was 'mortal', talking at a hundred miles an hour in the hopes that she says something worth hearing.

She sighs after a moment, pushes her glasses up so she can rub at her eyes.]

Cagliostro would never let me hear the end of this. For once, I'm thankful I'm alone here.

[horsepowered]

The thought would have never crossed my mind to begin with.

[Chiron pauses, and the motion of rubbing her eyes suggests the obvious:]

Perhaps rest would be the better idea for now.

[frogfractions]

Hardly. I still need to finish with all of this. [She indicates the small pile of clothes she's managed to assemble.]

And then see about the library. I might nap for an hour in there, but this body of mine hardly needs sleep the way a normal human's does. I've gone weeks without it. Even then, I only rested because Saint-Germain noticed. [It explains the heavy bags under her eyes, at least, the wrinkles and shadows that make her look not quite as young as she probably should.]

Basically, sleep is a waste of time. My mind will be in order once I'm stuck back into some research.