transport log » ❝ welcome to Exsilium ❞

[initiates]

Date & Time: Sept 23rd, 2012.
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings.
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. "This isn't standard," she's saying, walking perhaps faster than most of the people she's dragging around. "We don't normally have so many Transports at once. 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. 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. 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

[flagrate]

It's a thing you hold over you. [ he waves his hands over his head in the shape of an umbrella ] It keeps you dry when it rains.

[ not that he seems to be having much trouble with that. his upper body looks more damp than soaked. ]

[onblackwings]

[ ...That actually sounds pretty reasonable. She glances around, spots someone carrying something that seems to fit the description, and points. ]

Like that, you mean. [ She considers it, then nods. ] I wouldn't mind that. I think it would work for you, too.

[flagrate]

[ he nods. ] Yeah, like that.

And I'll be alright. I've got my own ways of getting dry. [ not that he can really show her that when it's pouring out. but it's true. ]

[onblackwings]

It doesn't look like you have one for staying dry, though.

[ She comes a little nearer, looking him over curiously. It doesn't look like he's using any spells to do that... ]

Is that magic?

[flagrate]

I don't mind the wet. [ so long as it's just rain. ]

What, this? [ he holds up an arm and it steams a little more. ] No, it's not magic. It's a Devil Fruit power.

[onblackwings]

[ Now that catches her attention. Something that looks like magic, but isn't? Maybe she could have it too, whatever it is. She comes nearer still, dropping to a slightly unsteady crouch in front of him. ]

I've never heard of that. What is it?

[flagrate]

It's a thing from— home. [ he fumbles over the term, not really sure where this place is in relation to his world. alternate universes aren't something he's thought of before. ]

Devil Fruits are a kind of fruit that grants whoever eats it a special power, but in exchange they can never swim again. Once the fruit's eaten, the power belongs to that person and them only until they die and the fruit is regrown somewhere. Mine lets me do this. [ he lights his fingertips on fire for a moment, smirking. ]

[onblackwings]

[ She listens carefully (only wincing a little bit at the "never swim again" line), face open and curious. And she watches his fingers when he lights them, considering that as well. Finally she smiles, lifting her own hand. She lifts just one finger, and a small flame dances at the tip.

(She'd do the rest, but a larger fire spell would take more concentration, and she doesn't want to blow a first impression.) ]

I can do that too. And swim.

[flagrate]

[ he stares for a moment, amazed. marco is the only other person he's seen light himself on fire, and that wasn't real fire. ]

That's magic, I'm guessing?

[onblackwings]

A simple cantrip, really. Magic would be if I chose to cast a fireball down the street.

[ ...Yeah, she totally can't do that yet. No need to prove herself a novice, though. So she extinguishes the flame at her finger with a quick huff of breath and smiles. ]

What else can you do?

[flagrate]

Aah, that's mostly it. [ he shrugs. ] I'm made of fire.

[onblackwings]

[ say whaaat. that gets a squint! ]

You don't look like you are.

[flagrate]

[ he smirks. ] Try and hit me with something.

[onblackwings]

[ She considers that with a puzzled frown. Sort of an odd request, but she's never been one to turn down violence. She reaches into the pocket of her robe, drawing out the dagger she'd found. ]

Will this do?

[flagrate]

[ he reaches to touch the flat of the blade, just to make sure there's no seastone in it, and nods. ]

Yeah, that should work.

[onblackwings]

[ She considers first the dagger, then him, looking thoughtful. Not because she's concerned for him or his safety, but because she's trying to decide how best to strike with a dagger. It's not like her claws, she can't hold it and lash out in the same way. Frowning a little, she grips the handle so that the blade points toward the ground. Annd... yeah, that'll do. She thrusts it toward him. ]

[flagrate]

[ it pierces his body, but ace just laughs. after a moment, he leans back far enough that the dagger slips out of him, bloodless. on him, there's not a mark, just a small hole that flame flickers around until it closes, leaving unmarked skin. kind of like this. ]

Your form is terrible.

[onblackwings]

[ Whoa. She's too intrigued to even be offended by the insult. She leans down to peer more closely at the skin, even poking at it with a finger. ]

And that isn't a spell?

[flagrate]

Not at all.

[onblackwings]

[ She straightens again, considers him for a few seconds... and frowns. ]

My form wasn't that bad.