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

[implying]

[ And guess who's happy to enjoy the attention? He hadn't been expecting a person dressed like that to be so interested in a simple mask. It's nice! ]

Ah, no, no. I'm no metalsmith, unfortunately. But I did pick it myself, if that's worth anything!

[raisedbybirds]

A metalsmith?

[Don't mind her, she's just going to reach out with her finger and try to lift up the tip of his mask to get a better look. For someone who didn't appreciate her personal space being invaded she seems to have no problem doing the same.]

[implying]

[ And oh, he doesn't mind! More people should just reach out and touch things whenever they feel like it. It's realy quite nice. He patiently tips his head to allow the mask to move however she likes, confident that it won't be budged from his face. It's clipped in, after all. ]

You know-- a sculptor. I'd offer to let you try it on, but I really doubt it would fit very nicely wtih that helmet.

[raisedbybirds]

[This pleases her! Until she feels the tug tug of resistance, finding the mask securely clipped in. She's not quite so enamored that she would try to rip it off, and backs away. As for his profession; duly noted! Once she settles in she'll probably want to look for metal scraps for her own projects.]

What I wear is for more practical reasons anyway.

[Yes the giant, circular shoulder pads are practical.]

[implying]

Really! Even now? I hadn't thought there was much a need for large suits of armor here. Ah, but I've been wrong before!

[ He's studying her again, curious, trying to imagine the usual uses for the suit. ]

Which conditions are they that you're more used to for it?

[raisedbybirds]

Space.