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

[ladyofrivendell]

Ah, then welcome to you. It is an honor, Peregrin Took, to meet you as well.

[She inclines her head, rather than bowing herself, and smiles. Perhaps reminiscent of her mother.]

I am Celebrían, daughter of Celeborn and Galadriel.

[nikubaka]

Kuroh tries to call back to the Greeter through the crowds, because woman, he still doesn't know what's going on, don't just disappear on him like that, but it's too late--she's gone.

Well, there's still no shortage of other people to question, and question he will, because forget the kidnapping situation for a moment: he has a couple people to find.

So, one could approach this youth doing a couple of things: going around and demanding answers from the people running the various booths, who merely try to sell him their goods, for the most part. Or off to the side some time later, taking shelter from the rain and going through his new tablet device with a stern expression. He frequently scans the crowds, and always seems disappointed the faces he sees are unfamiliar.

Otherwise, he starts approaching fellow Transports himself. It's fairly easy to tell from their demeanors who is new like him and who is not, but that's really not relevant to his question: "Excuse me." While ensuring he has their attention, he maintains a respectful distance. "I am looking for someone. If you've seen them, I'd be grateful if you could help me."

[salvagedsoul]

[He picks up his head to look at the girl, who was looking a little damp despite all the rain clothes she was wearing.]

Ah... yes. Is it obvious?

yeeeeeee

[salvagedsoul]

[A shy voice brings his attention back to the marketplace and he looks up to see a girl talking to him. Kaworu studies her face for a moment. He doesn't recognize this girl, but her smile is real, despite a blatant uneasiness. He gives her a curious smile back.]

It's kind of nice. I'm used to it being hot all the time.

[oncearanger]

I've considered that they might be hiding things from us. I guess that makes it our task to get to the bottom of it all.

[Billy smiles, relieved that it works.]

I'm Billy Cranston. I'm nobody important, I've just been getting the word out about my mechanical work. I've been hoping to open a shop. If you have some skill you can open a business if you want, but we're taken care of as long as we go on the missions.

At least, I think that's how it works. I haven't been assigned to one yet.

[salvagedsoul]

Missions.

[His smile becomes a little resigned, and he sighs the word out, like he's tired of the word, and looks around the marketplace, reminded of his worries.]

Do you know if they're dangerous? [Not all of the people here look like they should be fighting a war.] I'll go, but some of these others...

[chargethesebatteries]

Well, don't read too much into it: I just want to avoid you getting caught in the mess I almost wound up in. [These players aren't ready for the idea of a program being alive. Not most of them, anyway.

[She glances up and gives the waitress a small nod when she pauses just long enough at the table to drop off two cups of coffee and then moves on. Sliding one across the table to Ralph, Tamora gives him a stern look.]

No sense mincing words, Wreck-It: this isn't a game. We didn't take a wrong turn at Pac-Man, we didn't miss our stop--we're not even in the arcade anymore. [A pause to let this sink in, and she takes a thin drag off the top of her coffee without adding any cream or sugar to it. Setting the mug back down almost dramatically, she lifts her chin.] That crazy lady in purple wasn't a particularly long-winded opening sequence tutorial. We're on the other side of the screen.

[Oh, was she supposed to wait to drop that shoe?]

[commentboxtroll]

[ Oh. Is today new arrival day?

He knew he should've stayed inside! Now he can't continue looking through the fruit stall in peace, since some weirdo is looming over him now. That weirdo being Judal. Caesar leans away a bit so he has room to side-eye him. ]

Then ask someone else. I'm busy.

[iorhael]

Now that the Dead weren't about, he could keep an eye on who might be arriving since it seemed they were gathered temporarily in one place. Although the Initiative said little to them all on who they had their eye set on next, at least they could be sure when the next batch (goodness, it made them sound like milk to be delivered or bread from the oven) would arrive.

Rain fell around the city, first a light patter, than over the minutes, grew increasingly hard. He was mostly soaked from the top; with how big the Big Folk were, it was their height that kept him hovering between uncomfortably wet and almost dry in places. The hobbit clutched the cloak tighter about him, more to keep what warmth he had than the rain out. The cloak was not of the same make the elves had. While solid and well-made, like most things of hobbit-make are, it couldn't do much to resist being soaked through after awhile.

Frodo had paused to adjust his hood when he blinked. "...Pippin, is that you?"

It was only a glimpse, of curly hair and the same on the hobbit's feet. If not him, (and here, Frodo doubted himself) he had to be the tallest hobbit he had ever seen!

[iorhael]

[Frodo has just had the misfortune to pass very close to this giant of a Man - had he not seen him move, he might very well be mistaken for one of the makeshift mannequins the vendors had tried to set up.

As it is, Frodo rocks back on his feet. His ears ring; that was a mighty shout. Frodo in turn calls up to him]

Goodness, no, you needn't shout so! There is no "Game Central" here!

[incendiarism]

We can win the war, but keep none of the spoils. Nobody will fight with terms like that!

[He sneers at the idea. That's no way to get people excited to battle!]

I like war itself best, though, so who cares? Aside from you, Kougyoku. I'm sure you want to go home already.

[To her brothers, her country, and their coming war. It's a lot to leave behind for a political figure like her, isn't it?]

[graciousness]

Just Gwen - I'm not a lady.

[ but she smiles at his easygoing nature, beams at it since it lightens her heard to see someone so blissfully content despite being in this odd city. ]

It'll be good again once warmed. Here -

[ she reaches into her bag, pulls out an apple and offers it. ]

To eat afterwards.

[bad_is_better]

"...It's verra strange." Her Scots burr could erode stone with how thick it was. She turns to look at the man, as she was glancing around and now gives him her full attention.

Her eyes narrow a little bit, her lost expression changes to something more deeply interested in what she looks at, and she finds herself having to restrain an appreciative noise - for a second, her regarding of him becomes perhaps a bit... predatory. Then it changes back after a moment as she remembers what she's decided to pretend to be for a bit, and she curtseys deferentially.

"Morrigan Aensland, if you please, sir."

[imusntrunaway]

[That does it. Primal instinct kicks logic out of the way and settles in. Shinji backs slowly away, hands up, and abruptly breaks into a run, pushing his way into the crowd. Angry reproaches follow him, but he doesn't stop.

I musn't run away? HA HA HA NO, NOW IS DEFINITELY THE TIME TO RUN.]

feel free to bug him when he first arrives, while he's exploring the shops or later!

[curufinwe]

[ At first, Fëanor is fascinated - a new world, a new place where everything is different and there are no Valar to teach them (or command them). But then, the more he hears about the United Earth - and the more he hears about the Initiative and how has been drafted without so much as a by your leave - the angrier he gets. As much as the description of the United Earth sets his teeth on edge, he is no one's pawn to be carted off and flung through time to do someone else's work!

But the Greeter doesn't respond to fury, and Fëanor quickly surmises that no amount of vitriol will get him what he wants, and so he goes quiet, listening and taking it in, exercising what little self-control he has if only so that he doesn't have to ask more questions later.

And then, he's deposited in the market, and all he can do is simply stew, glowering at the crowd of strange people and strange beings. There is too much to take in, and the curiosity and fascination and eagerness to explore slowly win out over his bitterness at having been dragged here for a purpose he did not choose.

And so, after a time he is to be found pacing about the market place and peering into the stalls. If there is a material being sold he is unfamiliar with, he badgers the poor shopkeepers with questions. What is it made of? What are it's properties? Where it is mined or what is it distilled from?

But he doesn't buy anything - not yet, anyway. He needs a place to work first, and so later on, when he's completed a circuit of the shops, he seeks a clear spot, heedless of the rain (what is a bit of chill and damp to an immortal elf, after all?), and begins to study his changed hammer, talking to himself as he inspects it for changes. ]

But what did they do to it...?

[imusntrunaway]

No, no, it's fine. [He quickly gives a smile, in case he's offended Kazu.] It's just... I didn't think a stranger would go out of their way to help...

[imusntrunaway]

[Oh, he's being told to do something. This feels more natural.]

Ah... but I don't know you...

[incendiarism]

[Kougyoku clearly needs to pick better friends, because Judal is pretty affronted at the dig about his clothes. He lives in fantasy!China and is often in the fantasy!Middle East, okay!? It's hot there!]

Are you stupid? Of course nobody else dresses like I do! I'm the holy oracle of the empire!

[Not that Kazu is really going to understand what that kind of status actually entails, being from a different world and all. Or why it lets him get away with wearing weird clothes when he definitely does have more normal and appropriate clothes back home he never wears. But it definitely makes Judal a special snowflake who can do what he wants.]

[fadedaway]

Hm?

[ Yashiro heard the voice talking to him at first and recognized it as directed to him, but didn't quite catch what she said. So he looks up at the speaker.

...Well, that's not quite what he had expected to see at first. Gray skin? Horns?? Yellow eyes and are those fins??? what. ]

What? [ Oops, did he say that out loud? ...Maybe she won't realize what that "what" is meant for. ]

[undroppedeaves]

[A few days ago? In the Shire? It had been months since Sam had seen Pippin and longer since he had seen the Shire...

He knew from his talk with Frodo though that time seemed to be odd...] It is one of the tricks of this place, we all remember different things. I don't know how exactly but we all believe it to be a different date. [He had thought it odd that Frodo was from so long ago, but to Pippin had they never even left home yet?

Things were getting odder and Sam did not like it.]

[fadedaway]

Uwah!? [ Hold it there, dude. Don't lean in so close!

Yashiro blinks, studying the person who has decided to invade his personal space. He opens his mouth to respond when, hey man you're getting him wet. ]

...You're soaked.

[incendiarism]

[Judal raises an eyebrow at her as he processes this. She can't really think he's going to play nice with Aladdin that easily, can she? Not with the way he continues to meddle in things that are none of his business, there's no way.]

If they keep getting in my way, that isn't going to stop, you know.

[autocratic]

[ She turns to regard the young man that has chosen to approach her. She straightens herself as much as she can - as much as any woman who stands at 4'9". Her armored boots help. Somewhat. ]

You would be correct in that observation. Are you a new arrival yourself, or one of those who came before?

[autocratic]

She smiled in amusement at his words, "For a young man like yourself, that is a rather mature approach. You do not seem all that bothered by our current predicament, either."

Sure, he said he didn't like the situation, but he didn't seem all that fazed by it. The firearms strapped to his sides were a particular note of interest to her.

[incendiarism]

[Judal grins, making a point of letting his dripping hair soak anything it can, including the edges of Caesar's clothes. Take that, random guy who doesn't give him what he wants. (Nobody ever claimed he was mature.)]

No way! I'm asking you and no one else. It's an easy one, so don't have to worry about looking dumb, unless you really are stupid.