(no subject)

[initiates]

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

Comments

Thunderous brows to bulbous blue eyes

[heirwithouthope]

[How in Durin's name anyone could mistake a hobbit for a dwarf is also beyond Thorin. Of course, it was mere hours ago that he was still under the impression that hobbits were useless for anything aside from growing food and smoking tobacco. Before his neck was saved by Bilbo in an act of courage he never saw coming.

Turning in the direction of the voice, Thorin sees the small pointed ears, clean-shaven face, and of course the bare feet with thick toppings of wooly hair. His face on the other hand doesn't ring any bells--just that it wasn't the hobbit he was hoping to find.]

And you? Strange to even see one of your kind this far from Bree.

HEY NOW. They're large eyes, not bulbous like a dragon fly! *SNIFF*

[iorhael]

[Clean-shaven indeed, DWARVES. Hobbits are not covered in too much hair, like something that must be part bear.

Frodo studied him, eyebrows knit as he tried to place the face. Really, he was certain he had seen a sketch of him before, and the name is just on the tip of his tongue.

Best do what Bilbo would have done in such a situation, and that was stall for him until he came upon the name again.]

I am afraid I am on an Adventure or two myself, though none of which are ones I would have particularly chosen or wanted.

[he'd always wanted to go on adventures, but in his mind, going with a bunch of dwarves to the Lonely Mountain is a lot safer than getting hunted by Black Riders.

trade you]

Are you... Thorin, by any chance?

You made me picture little black lightning clouds over his eyes. 8|

[heirwithouthope]

[Yes. Clean-shaven compared to the dwarves. Even babies have more facial hair than the eldest hobbit, it seems.

He blows a short stream of air through his nose--there is a small laugh in there, if Frodo is listening for it.] All I know of hobbits--though it isn't much--you would never leave your borders without some great push.

[The narrowed concentration in his gaze answers his question before Thorin even speaks, staring down the hobbit.]

...What is your name?

As long as they aren't given to rain at inopportune moments

[iorhael]

[Better than that a chia pet]

[Frodo catches it, it's a laugh that, while not bringing a smile to the dwarf's face, does make him feel, for a moment, a little less dour.]

I would have left on mine own, I think, given perhaps too much time to start, but you are right; a push is what happened in the end.

[Frodo bows a little at the hip]

Frodo Baggins, at your service and your family's.

Nobody would take him srsly if that happened

[heirwithouthope]

[You mean your feet?

He continues to stare through Frodo as though he were trying to peel his skin back and get the answers that way. Though the name slowly takes the suspicion from his expression and replaces it with surprise.]

Baggins...any kin to Bilbo?

Thorin, weeping dramatic tears everywhere along with dramatic readings. Fund it

[iorhael]

[in hobbit culture, the more hair on your feet, the bigger your- okay I'm going to stop now, promise.]

[the stare is becoming unnerving, but Frodo returns it levelly. Better to keep things simple; he suspects Thorin would not care much for hobbit family trees, or how Frodo is exactly related to Bilbo, so...]

His nephew, actually. And you must be one Thorin Oakenshield.

[he can't help it; he sounds a bit awestruck. It seems that this place can pull people from before their deaths, or even from it; but the hobbit has grown up hearing Bilbo's stories, and he had spoken of Thorin often when he did. And now to actually meet the very dwarf...!]

But who's the reason for the tear drops on his guitar?

[heirwithouthope]

[gooooooooooooooooooooooooorl]

Aye. [He may have overheard Gandalf trying to reason with Bilbo before the journey, talking about grand-uncles and Tooks, but Thorin realizes he knows very little about Bilbo and his family.

He has no reason to think this hobbit could be lying to him--overall they seem like simple, honest-speaking folk. Though the fact that Frodo knows him by sight alone, when he last saw Bilbo fighting orcs in the mountains, he has to know.]

And your uncle, Mister Baggins, is he here?

Gandalf, for always leaving when you need a Wizard most.

[iorhael]

[it takes Frodo a moment to get himself to say anything. Thorin Oakenshield, one of the very dwarves, and the most important of them, t that Bilbo had traveled with.]

I am afraid not. Or if he is, I have not seen him yet. But I do not expect to see him here.

[although...there is that time issue he has run into with Aragorn and Sam and Pippin. It's enough to make a hobbit's head hurt, but he is also getting used to asking now]

And Bilbo... when did you see him last? Was he all right?

Then Gandalf leaves Bilbo alone to take care of thirteen dwarves

[heirwithouthope]

Have you seen other dwarves here? Heirs of Durin? Gandalf?

[His tone becomes agitated as he comes closer. It could very well come across as threatening, even though he doesn't intend to hurt Frodo at all. Thorin had been expecting the answer to be yes, and the fact that Bilbo wasn't there leaves him confused.] How is it that you know me?

We were attacked by orcs. [The more Thorin thinks about the situation he was taken from, the more he worries about the outcome: Bilbo, his nephews, and the others in their group.] Your uncle brought one of them down. What happened after that, I cannot tell you.

Maybe Bilbo should be crying. He'd have better luck herding cats

[iorhael]

[Frodo shakes his eyes, though something in him falls at the mention of Gandalf. He doesn't have the heart to tell Thorin that he watched Gandalf fall to the Balrog not long ago]

I have only seen Men, a fair number of elves, and a few other hobbits. But no dwarves.

[Frodo had taken a step back instinctively before he stopped himself. Thorin was much more intense than he imagined originally. He supposes that Bilbo never could quite do him justice.]

Bilbo actually killed an orc? Then it seems you have been brought from out of both frying pan and the fire, and into a strange respite.

HAVE FUN DOING ROLL CALL

[heirwithouthope]

[There is a noticeable grimace when Frodo mentions there was a sizable population of elves in the city (and no dwarves--Thorin doesn't like those odds. Not at all).

His mind doesn't linger on it too long when he realizes Frodo's description is almost exactly what he said to Gandalf when Azog and his pack of orcs started chasing them down the mountainside, and that little bit of reminiscence earns another snort.] Yet there is no other place I would rather be.

:(

[iorhael]

[It seems Thorin has found the possibility of any allies at all disagreeable. Better elves by far, Frodo thinks. The Enemy's servants find cause to fear them. Frodo gives the dwarf a questioning look]

You would much rather go back to be hunted and in mortal danger?

[heirwithouthope]

[Allies are one thing, but elves were not allies in his mind. Elrond helped them with their map, and Thorin would not deny his gratitude, but that assistance may have not even come if Gandalf hadn't quickly lied to him about their intentions, and then helped them escape.]

I would much rather know what has become of your uncle and my company. [He meets Frodo's questioning look with one that is leveled.] I would rather fight with them.

[iorhael]

[Oh dear. Frodo can't help the awkward look that has come upon his face. So this is what Sam must have felt like when he had pressed him on the future. He had found then that it was better off not knowing, but he had still asked]

So I gathered, but allies are allies, and if help is offered freely, one would do best not to be turn off such help.

[as for Bilbo. Frodo wonders what to tell him]

He was fine when I last saw him; back in Rivendell, mind you.

[heirwithouthope]

[Thorin's first instinct tells him not to yield on the subject, but he also succumbs to the fact that he can't argue with that logic, which is expressed as a slight drop of his shoulders.] You sound like the old wizard.

[The next thing Frodo says just gathers inside his eardrums and forms a tangle of information he can't understand.] Rivendell? We were miles from Rivendell, on the other side of the mountains.

How did he end up there?

[iorhael]

[the smile Thorin gets is a sad one]

I shall take that as a compliment.

It's...a rather long story, I am afraid, and I do not think either of us have the time for the telling of it. And I do not know if I can such more on the matter. But he is safe and sound.

[heirwithouthope]

[And that might've even went smoothly, if Thorin was not a dwarf. And as stubborn as dwarves come.]

You will tell me now, Hobbit. [His voice becomes curt and commanding, with another edge: concern. In the woods, he was conscious long enough to see Bilbo save his life, and he would go down regretting it if he'd never have a chance to express his gratitude. Especially after everything he said to Bilbo before the orc attack. But Frodo's reasoning doesn't make any sense as it is, and it doesn't bring him much comfort.]

If Bilbo Baggins is not here, how are you so certain of his safety? How did he get to Rivendell?

[iorhael]

[For a moment, Frodo looks taken aback but the sheer demand, but then frowns. Thorin may be Thorin Oakenshield, the closest thing out of legend for Frodo but, but he is hardly one of his company and besides, he is not a hobbit easily intimidated]

Some things are better off unknown, if they are further ahead for you. And some things I shall not say, and you may glower all you like for it.

[but he caves in this; he can see that Thorin does care for Bilbo]

I am certain of his safety because he returned from the Quest. He would return to Rivendell some years later, for that is where I saw him last.

[heirwithouthope]

[He almost seems taken aback for a moment, or reproachful about being sassed by a boy (in his eyes, a boy. He doesn't seem much older than Kili) before he responds.]

I would like nothing more than to think Master Baggins will live to see his precious home once more.

You speak of things that have not passed, with the certainty of one that has seen them with his own eyes. You should not know these things. [Does eating six meals a day give you psychic powers, or something?]

[iorhael]

Then I hope I was able to put your mind at ease with in regards to dear Bilbo, if even a little.

Time has a queer way of working here; you will find that out for yourself should you meet anyone else from home.

[no but it makes one a good deal happier! clinically proven, 10/10 hobbits agree.]

[heirwithouthope]

[Are you sure that isn't the pipe weed?]

I should find that others I have not met know more of my quest and its outcome than I do.

[There's still some bite in his tone, but otherwise Thorin looks well-resigned and on the verge of sitting down, which could be the reason he doesn't press further about what else Frodo knows about the Lonely Mountain or what happened when they got to it.] How long have you been in this place, Master Hobbit?

[iorhael]

[pipeweed is an assumed part of any good meal; it comes after desert, of course]

And you may find more than myself. It's hardly a comfortable sort of experience.

I have been here a good number of months. We have...yet to find a way back yet.

[heirwithouthope]

[[It cleanses the palate.]

And what happens to the world we leave behind?

[A war of Men is all fine and good. But there are people--twelve dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit to be exact--that will notice if he disappears suddenly and cannot be found.

And Frodo: even a small hobbit would be missed by someone.]

Do they leave ransom? Or simply take us and leave our friends and family to mourn for our absence? They care so little?

[iorhael]

[Why, you are on the way to becoming a hobbit yourself, so there is hope]

They say that home is frozen, that it shall resume once we return. I don't know if I believe them.

I believe they take us without a so much as by-your-leave or any warning at all. I imagine if there was a ransom, they would have found themselves underpaid.

[there's a rueful smile but a distant one; he's seems thoughtful. What he carries on him would be worth far more to anyone than any sum of money or gold or jewels. ]

[heirwithouthope]

[Does this mean he has to stop wearing his boots and go around barefoot?

Frozen? [He repeats the word as though hearing it from his own lips would make it any more logical. Spoiler tag: it doesn't. However, this all seems to be the work of some dark, yet powerful wizard. He couldn't very well explain how Gandalf could make light shoot from a walking stick, perhaps time could be told to wait.]

They would have to be master thieves, even craftier than your uncle.

[There was an entire mountain of gold that could be used to pay for his safe return, but some tiny worm in his stomach crawls restlessly at the thought of the Initiates getting a single piece of their treasure.]