transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

[initiates]

Date: January 3rd
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been led to a banquet room within the Hold.
Warnings: None.

You've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium

Comments

[honkalypse]

[That gets Gamzee's attention as he stalks about in the rain--he's found some paint and is clutching it like a lifeline, but his eyes are sharp and predatory. It looked like this stranger was talking to him, but he wasn't (doesn't remember) saying anything.]

What are you on about, motherfucker? I wasn't flapping off words at you.

[His volume isn't stable, and neither is his pitch. Both trip up and down without warning, making him even harder to understand. Gamzee stares, looking for a reason to be hissed at, and fingers twitching with want to grab his clubs. "Don't you even think about it, you colossal waste of space." The other troll is shorter, with nubby horns, and puts a hand over his twitching fingers. But Karkat wouldn't want that, so he makes his fingers still.]

[needlecraft]

[ Ah... What do we have here? Sidel's eyes only roam to the corner, barely catching Gamzee and Karkat nearby. In his hands is a raincoat that he was checking, but he might as well put it down now.

This... person seemed quite violent, don't they?

"You should be careful around this one, Sidel." The voice muses as the figure looks over his shoulder. "I never thought candycorn horns would be so vicious.".

Yes, this is sadly one of the more reasonable things suggested. ]

Oh, sorry. [ He'll actually turn to him as a sign of "courtesy". Using a couple of seconds after that, he takes in this person's appearance. ] I didn't mean you.

[honkalypse]

[He looks around, calculating and curious, but doesn't find anyone jumping out at him as a likely person for this motherfucker to get all hissy at. So he turns back to Sidel, tipping his head to the side.]

What motherfucker were you meaning that all at then?

[needlecraft]

Someone tagged along with me... And I thought they were still nagging, but I guess they left a while ago.

It's kind of noisy around here with the rain and people and all.

[ He shrugs, but he can feel the figure glaring daggers at him.

"Wow! I'm not naggy and I'm still here." That only makes him crack a small smile. ]

[honkalypse]

You unlucky motherfucker, getting yourself all apart from who came with you.

[He laughs as he says it though, even if it's hard to tell what he finds funny.]

Should be kicking some searching, shouldn't you?

[needlecraft]

I'll be fine without them... It's not like we were friends anyway. [ He'll just assume that they find the whole ordeal funny, nothing too bad. It doesn't really bother him at all. ]

Probably better off if they find someone else to help them.

[honkalypse]

Might be full up with some regret for that later, my brother. Motherfuckers here, we're not going to be getting nowhere else.

[He's smirking, but there's an odd inflection. It does effect him too, sometimes.]

Might find yourself down with missing shit, dig?