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

I and my old regiment shared a valley with a village of hill dwarves for nearly thirty years, peacefully.

[Relatively.]

I'm still on good terms with a few of them. Every year the brewmaster visits our city to sell his wares.

[Thorin continues to eye Kang with suspicion, unsure whether or not to take him at his word. He could easily write him off based on bias alone, but something doesn't feel right about attacking a creature that hasn't done anything (at least that Thorin has seen), and makes a sound argument for peace at the tip of his blade. A dragon would've just breathed fire at him, or knocked him back.

He finally sheathes his sword, but maintains the scowl just a bit longer.] If what you say is true, Master Draconian, then I won't have quarrel with you, or the rest of your kind. [Emphasis on the part about it being true.]

[Kang relaxes and smiles, though he's still careful to keep his hands away from the dagger at his belt.

Then we shall have no quarrel at all. What is your name, Sir Dwarf?

Thorin. [He nods his head with it.] Son of Thráin, son of Thrór, King under the Mountain.

What do I call you?

Lord-Governor Kang of Teyr, on the world of Krynn.

[He bows slightly with respect. This is the grandson of a thane.]

Well met, Thorin.

I'm surprised to say the same.

[He wasn't trying to cut anyone's throat anymore, but that doesn't mean he has to be sweet, either.

Though he gestures with his hand, almost brushing the comment aside.] So there are lords in this place. These sorcerers are taking more than just simple warriors for their war.

[Even as he says this, his eyes flick to the dagger at Kang's belt.]

Lords can also be warriors, or have been warriors in the past.

[Yes, he notices the glance at the dagger.]

And sometimes words can be more useful than blades to end wars. These humans are no sorcerers, though; they are simply more advanced when it comes to technology.

As it is where I come from.

[His comment had more to do with their status, and importance. Not so much the disbelief that noblemen couldn't wield a sword.

It's the next thing Kang says that makes Thorin give him a long, weird look. Words being more useful than swords? Seriously? What kind of insane hippie nonsense are you trying to tell this dwarf?]

There is no item among Men that can bend time this way. Not even the hands of dwarves could forge such a tool. It is a dark magic--or the Valar themselves.

[Kang just quirks one eyebrow ridge in amusement. There was a time he thought much the same, when he was very young. It doesn't mean he won't ever fight, though; he'll do whatever it takes to keep him and his alive.]

I take it you're as fond of magic as the dwarves of Krynn. I thought it was magic at first as well, but these humans know things about the... rules of how their world operates that allows them to do such things. It's actually very interesting what they've learned.