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

[He nods, yeah he'd figured that's where she and Jake were from already considering how annoyed she was and Jake came holding his dead head. And oh, that's a lot of questions at once, he looks a little lost on where to start for a moment, but then lets out a breath and goes with the thing most relevant to her interests first.]

No, we didn't bring them back. A fucking juggalo troll prototyped your sprite with some corpses before we got the chance. [He, on the other hand had a deal with AR and that was what kept him from doing it.] But on the bright side, you and your sprite reached Casablanca levels of friendship beauty that makes up for it.

[He pauses, considering what else there is to say about the game. Not much besides all the relationship bullshit, and he doesn't feel like sharing that he and Jake got together because that's not doing so great anymore.] In any case, I knew younger versions of our ancestors were on their way. Apparently our purpose in the game is to "pave the way" for them. Didn't know your mom was your daughter, though. That's new.

[Juggalo troll. She knows exactly who you are talking about.]

You mean Gamzee right? I only know of one juggalo troll and he's here somewhere. Creepy as fuck, I try to stay to stay away from him actually. He has this swirly 'N' sign, like the capricorn sign?

What was my sprite like then? Sounds pretty cool even if it wasn't my Mom... [Seriously she hasn't even seen it yet but FUCK that clown.]

Sounds like I have just as much of an info-dump to give you as you have me, we proooooobably should go hang out somewhere more private and talk about it.

Actually, he was flaunting a purple codpiece. That's the only part of the outfit you would be able to remember 'cause it stood almost as prominently curved as a smuppet nose.

And Fefeta's cool. She's a part fish, part cat troll with a boat-load of stories to tell that you like listening to. I didn't really get to know her that well.

[He nods at her suggestion.] Lead the way.

Wait. Fefeta?

As in Feferi and Nepeta....?

... Yeah, I guess so. Why?