exsiliumlogs | (no subject)

Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then 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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ She blushes. ]

Have you seen a man with a mockingbird upon his breast?

A mockingbird upon his breast?

[Whut is a mocking- oh whatever he can guess. He considers before he shakes his head]

No, afraid I haven't. A friend of yours?

My lord father.

['My lord father', how quaint. How clearly close they must be. But he bites his tongue on such.]

Sorry, but I stay clear of nobility.

You're wise, then. Their games endanger all around them.

Edited 2013-02-04 02:46 (UTC)

[He's not too surprised at someone's lack of love for nobility. A blind man could see their corruption if you are in their folds]

Always seems to be the case, yeah.

[ A blind man would know, too, that all the world is full of filth, no matter how high- or lowly-born, for the blind mand is forced to wade through it.

But she smiles, tentatively. ]

I'm Alayne.

[Yeah but they rarely have an army at their disposal]

Kaneis. No title?

[ That matters little to the blind man when his throat is slit and his meager possessions taken. ]

Bastards don't get titles.

[So....you're an optimist as far as people in your world go?]

Ah.

[He simply nods in understanding. He doesn't care one way or the other if she's a bastard, but sure explains some]

[ p much ]

And you? Do I address you as ser or lord?

[a soft snort]

Neither. Mercenaries don't get titles either.

Sometimes they do.

[He shrugs]

Maybe, but can't say I've done any deeds or atrocities to earn me those titles. Just escort people and fought monsters.

Edited 2013-02-05 04:47 (UTC)

You might name yourself and let the great deeds follow, if you wished to be so bold.

[a sound of amusement] No one takes the self-proclaimed ones seriously.

[He would know. He didn't call himself "the great Zelos" because of any honest appraisal of himself]

[ Despite herself, Alayne is almost charmed. And she smiles to appear so. ]

Perhaps not. Kaneis it must be, then.

[Which is the level of charm he's going for. Zelos was over the top flirtatious and overall dismissible. Kaneis was almost charming and overall forgettable.]

So it must.

And just Alayne for you, right?

It is. [ And she curtsies politely. ] Alayne Stone.

[a nod]

Alayne Stone it is then.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm sure I've taken up more than enough of your time.