![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
- !location: pod caverns,
- !plot: pod release,
- aibghalien marsai,
- alistair,
- arhu,
- chris redfield,
- cinque nakajima,
- duo maxwell,
- dustin brooks,
- elisa maza,
- eva,
- gaignun kukai jr./rubedo,
- hal "otacon" emmerich,
- hit girl,
- james,
- john-117,
- jomy marquis shin,
- lacus clyne,
- namira amell,
- nunnally vi britannia,
- phillip,
- ren akiyama,
- setsuna f. seiei,
- spider-man (older),
- tavros nitram,
- tieria erde,
- vislor turlough,
- volstagg,
- wash,
- wheeljack,
- yve cousland,
- zhiai'kahn ahl
Podpop
[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: Post your character with one post establishing them as being podpopped. Tag each other in groups of 2's, 3's, and 4's, to get some interaction to start with. If a thread doesn't already have 2 or 3 people tagged in, tag it with your character's podpop popping near the other people, rather than making a new subthread. If you would like to play out them talking to the AI, please send an email to the mods making the request--we do this only by request. Then move onto the big Newbie Meeting. Once your character has gotten the rundown from the old crew, you may start posting entrance posts and freely tagging.]
||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.
In the Pod Caverns, there are the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
There is condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slide out onto the floors, covered in slime.
--
There was nothing. You were going about your normal life, then there was a bright light, and then? Nothing.
Then the world lurches.
The chamber here is humid.
Actually, "chamber" isn't quite accurate. You're in a cavern, half-lit by an eerie greenish light, going on and on as far as the eye can see. The light is coming from what can only be described as pods, glistening, round greenish-yellow things, glowing with a pale inner light, outlining human -- and not quite human -- forms. Each is rooted to the floor, to the walls, with something black, twisted, and unidentifiable.
They line the walls of the cavern, go up in maddeningly high columns, curling and corkscrewing up into the darkness, until the light from them is like that of the stars, glowing pale and mournful in clusters in the darkness above. Twisted walkways and stairs crisscross, traverse the platforms in front of the pods, wending their way back and forth, up and down through the chamber.
You just came from one of those pods, broke free like a butterfly from a (slimy, nasty) chrysalis.
Now you stand alone but not quite alone, naked, not knowing how you got there, who took you, or why you were taken.
As your body heats up again, you realize the air is warm -- just a few degrees too warm to be comfortable -- and muggy; it smells acrid and organic, like freshly spilt blood and sweat. Your mouth tastes of salt.
The floors are pulsing under your feet, throbbing...
Wherever you are, this entire place...is alive.
Oh, and also you're naked and covered in alien snot.
When you call out, ask where you are, a voice speaks to you, in your head. She tells you:
||You are here.||
When you ask who she is, she tells you that her name is STA'C K'LTRRB'TXFT, but that you may call her Stacy. When she tells you who she is, there is a gush of emotion, love, maternal warmth. You are on a ship. She is that ship. Her name is Stacy and she loves you. Her voice is warm and motherly, even if these messages sound almost automated.
Glowing phosphorescent lights appear in pustules along the floor. They lead you up a massive spiraling walkway that gives you a view of what are possibly millions in stasis. At the top is a room with moving vines that clean you and clothe you in a plant-like body-suit--soft, but durable. After that, the lights lead you to a great cavernous room with a clear floor that lets you see all the holes and tunnels in the walls of it. When you reach the center, the last thing she tells you before whisking you away to gather your belongings and meet the rest of the crew is this reassuring thought:
||You have been Chosen to accomplish a Great Purpose. You have been Chosen to help fight the Ohm, a race of insectoid beings that are the destroyers of worlds.||
||You have been Chosen as champions of life, as protectors of the worlds and peoples that are left. The others are waiting for you. They will explain everything.||
She will tell you nothing more. Your answers lie with these "others" she speaks of.
||Pod Release Protocols Initating|| Stacy's familiar voice sounds out to all the podmates through the ship.
In the Pod Caverns, there are the sounds of: Pop. Pop pop pop. Poppuhpoppoppop. KASCHUNKhiiiiiiiissssss.
There is condensation and mist spraying out from cracks in the pods, as the people inside slide out onto the floors, covered in slime.
There was nothing. You were going about your normal life, then there was a bright light, and then? Nothing.
Then the world lurches.
The chamber here is humid.
Actually, "chamber" isn't quite accurate. You're in a cavern, half-lit by an eerie greenish light, going on and on as far as the eye can see. The light is coming from what can only be described as pods, glistening, round greenish-yellow things, glowing with a pale inner light, outlining human -- and not quite human -- forms. Each is rooted to the floor, to the walls, with something black, twisted, and unidentifiable.
They line the walls of the cavern, go up in maddeningly high columns, curling and corkscrewing up into the darkness, until the light from them is like that of the stars, glowing pale and mournful in clusters in the darkness above. Twisted walkways and stairs crisscross, traverse the platforms in front of the pods, wending their way back and forth, up and down through the chamber.
You just came from one of those pods, broke free like a butterfly from a (slimy, nasty) chrysalis.
Now you stand alone but not quite alone, naked, not knowing how you got there, who took you, or why you were taken.
As your body heats up again, you realize the air is warm -- just a few degrees too warm to be comfortable -- and muggy; it smells acrid and organic, like freshly spilt blood and sweat. Your mouth tastes of salt.
The floors are pulsing under your feet, throbbing...
Wherever you are, this entire place...is alive.
Oh, and also you're naked and covered in alien snot.
When you call out, ask where you are, a voice speaks to you, in your head. She tells you:
When you ask who she is, she tells you that her name is STA'C K'LTRRB'TXFT, but that you may call her Stacy. When she tells you who she is, there is a gush of emotion, love, maternal warmth. You are on a ship. She is that ship. Her name is Stacy and she loves you. Her voice is warm and motherly, even if these messages sound almost automated.
Glowing phosphorescent lights appear in pustules along the floor. They lead you up a massive spiraling walkway that gives you a view of what are possibly millions in stasis. At the top is a room with moving vines that clean you and clothe you in a plant-like body-suit--soft, but durable. After that, the lights lead you to a great cavernous room with a clear floor that lets you see all the holes and tunnels in the walls of it. When you reach the center, the last thing she tells you before whisking you away to gather your belongings and meet the rest of the crew is this reassuring thought:
||You have been Chosen as champions of life, as protectors of the worlds and peoples that are left. The others are waiting for you. They will explain everything.||
She will tell you nothing more. Your answers lie with these "others" she speaks of.
no subject
Blinking his eyes, the little memory ran away into the depths of the ship as Phillip pulled slime from his hair. "This is a unique experience," remarked Phillip more to himself as he shook himself like a dog, spraying slime everywhere. It was a unique experience, one for the history books at least.
Gazing around the humid organic area, he touched his chin in thought. "How interesting."
no subject
He spilled out of the pod in a goopy heap, struggling with his own limbs. The slime made it hard to get coordinated, and even harder to clamber to his feet.
Point the first: he was covered in slime. Point the second: he was naked. Point the third: there was someone talking in his head.
"Zhēn dǎoméi - zhè shì shénme làn dōngxī-" as he continued speaking, it was clear that Wash had a beautifully filthy and broad vocabulary. He might have continued to stay there cursing to himself, but when the guy next to him shook off, glops of slime smacked him in the face. "Hey! Cut that out, I'm already disgusting enough!"
no subject
no subject
If he was the only one hearing voices, this was probably just an incredibly messed-up dream borne of way too much liquor. Or something. If not, well...
If not, he'd deal with that when the possibility arose. "And why are we naked?"
no subject
Tapping his chin as he got up and paced, he added, "Being naked is easier for the packaging slime and fluid to allow further facilitation of our well being during cold sleep as far as I can figure. I'll have to look up more information however..." And he wondered where his book was.
no subject
"There's always a threat to the worlds," he said, throwing up his hands. "And last I checked cold sleep doesn't need slime."
It was obvious that he hadn't been nabbed by the Alliance. If the Operative had caught up with them, he would have been very, very dead.
no subject
no subject
He set out on the lit path, keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. This was all too weird not to turn into a bad situation if he let his guard down.
no subject
"We should follow the lights then," said Phillip.
no subject
For a moment, inertial and balancing sensors were the only imputs registering much of anything, and for a moment, Wheeljack wondered if he'd been dropped into some kind of sensory deprivation tank. But no, that wasn't quite right - he gathered his wits and realized he was on hands and knees on solid ground. There was a layer of . . . something . . . coating his superstructure and messing with his normal scanners, clogging his audios and clouding his optics. He sat back on his heels and wiped at his face, tiny washer spouts rinsing his optics clean. He looked around . . . and froze.
"O-okay, this . . . this can't be good."
He didn't remember exactly asking himself where he was, but the answering voice - ||You are here.|| - drove him to his feet with a startled cry. Introductions, such as they were, were made, and the Autobot engineer gazed around in mounting confusion and dread. Unknown elements or capture and coming back online somewhere else usually meant Decepticon activity - oh, Primus, please not again! - but . . . but no, that wasn't quite right either . . . was it? The wash of emotions made little sense to him. He'd never known a maternal presence, and he barely remembered his creator.
He looked around some more, noting that he wasn't alone - there were a number of organics who seemed to be in the same position he was - and a new thought hit him.
When did humans get so big? N-no, wait . . . when did I get so SMALL!?
no subject
no subject
"I think so...?"
Another astro-second and he realized what the young man was actually asking - not "have you been terminated and this is some kind of after-life" but what so many humans had already asked him and his fellows. He faceplatepalmed and tried to draw a steadying cycle of air, but his intakes were slimed over. He grimaced inwardly.
"I-I mean . . . yeah. Yeah, I'm livin'. I've got a spark, kinda like what you'd call a soul or spirit. Name's Wheeljack. Do you . . . do you know where we are? Or how we got here?"
no subject
Dophants aside, he seriously doubted Wheeljack as he called himself, was one. "Phillip," added the young man as a introduction.
no subject
He looked around and nodded, noting all the same things. It was strange to him that he'd been locked in a similarly biological-like-matter sustaining pod. He certainly didn't need any such thing. In fact, it interfered with a lot of his systems. Oh, well . . . not like he could fault someone for ignorance, right? At least they'd tried.
What he wouldn't give for a wash-rack right about now, though.
He gestured at the rest of the mingling people around the cavernous space. "Looks like we're all in the same predicament. Wanna find out where the direction panels lead?" He moved to do just that, hesitating only to see if Phillip would join him.
no subject
"Sounds good to me," replied Phillip. "I'd like to get de-slimed as soon as possible."
no subject
The grimace his immobile faceplates couldn't express was clearly audible in his tone as he wiped at his forearm guards. "Yeah, tell me about it. Feels like some'a this slag's managed ta seep through my transformation seams an' inta my substructure." Yuck! He just hoped it didn't damage anything.
The green tinge to the normally blue-white flashes in the periphery of his vision was distracting, and he wiped at his vocal indicator flanges in a vain attempt to clean them as he led the way down the walkway. He shortened his gait to make sure his new friend could keep up.
"So, ah . . . where ya from? Originally?"
no subject
Despite the long gait, Phillip could keep up. He was fairly fit for his age.
no subject
He pushed the thought from his mind.
"A-anyway . . . Japan? You're from Earth, then. I've been to Japan once. There's a famous scientist, Dr. Fujiyama, who asked us ta come play security guards at a big unveilin' of an invention'a his, a robot he'd built for scientific study. Didn't get ta see much'a the country while we were there, unfortunately, but I saw was really nice. Plus a lotta pictures."
no subject
"In fact, since the possibility of other worlds is already confirmed on my end, I would suppose there would be enough worlds out there to be an infinite number of possibilities."
no subject
The thought fascinated him to no end, but by then they were just beginning their ascent of a massive spiraling walkway, and the view drove any other thoughts from the Cybertronian's processor.
"W-wow . . . "
no subject
"Incredible," said Phillip at the view.
no subject
He hesitated a long moment to take in the sight of the millions - tens of millions? hundreds of millions!? - of pods that they could see from up here. What were they all for? Was it some kind of containment block, like a vast prison? Had those in the caverns now somehow escaped their "cells". Had the pods failed?
One thing's for sure, he thought as he continued up the spiraling walkway, the Decepticons sure didn't do this.
"Hey, Phillip? What's the last thing you remember?"
no subject
no subject
He was silent the rest of the way up, though the sight of a room filled with vine-tentacle things made him pause.
"What in the Pit?"
no subject
Another came down with the plantsuit and was efficiently wrapping it around his body once he was all clean of the goo. "A living breathing outfit. How interesting. I need to learn more about this."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)