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Entry tags:
- !!stacy,
- !location: pod caverns,
- !plot: pod release,
- barbara wright,
- christine royce,
- gerald tarrant,
- karkat vantas,
- leonard church,
- madoka kaname,
- maria balthasar,
- max gibson,
- ninth doctor,
- ranulf,
- razputin aquato,
- rimethiel,
- roger maxson,
- shizuru viola,
- tavros nitram,
- tenth doctor,
- the tenth doctor,
- uva,
- veronica santangelo,
- volanz adarga
Podpop
[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:
||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.
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Humidity wasn't common in the Mojave, even if heat was- it was the damp wetness that threw her through a loop. She tried to quickly gain her footing, grab for the gun that wasn't there, but in the end she realized this was nothing like the Madre. Her nudity didn't bother her as much as it probably should have, in lieu her lacking a weapon in a strange place.
The only comforting thought she had was that this couldn't be Elijah's doing.
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"... you know," said the older man who emerged, "I'm naked and covered in slime. I'm at least thirty years past the point where I would've had an excuse for that."
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"I'm at least thirty years past when this is okay." And she was still in her twenties. Christine was methodical with getting the slime off her hands, regarding the man without much sense of bodyshyness.
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He'd worry about the naked part later. When everyone was in the same circumstances, it didn't really count.
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He'd settle for lesser clothing, but in a completely unfamiliar situation like this, armor would be more reassuring than any alien machine headvoice's love.
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Well, that wasn't something he'd expected to hear. There'd been similar names proposed before he'd finally rammed the Brotherhood name down his followers' throats, though, and there'd been that one bunch who insisted on peeling off; you never knew...
"Roger Maxson," he said, careful and formal. "High Elder. Brotherhood of Steel."
And waited.
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This wasn't the time to be slack-jawed, this was- this was Maxson. She was standing in some strange squishy place with Roger Maxson.
And she was naked.
"...this...feels like a nightmare I had when I was young." She looked like she was trying to figure out what to do with herself, but finally settled on- "It's- it's an honor." Stranger things had happened in the Mojave. But this...this was just all luck.
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"You've got my sympathies, Knight Royce, if your nightmares were ever anything like this," he said. "And thank you. Tempted as I am to keep up this line of discussion, I'm thinking it might be the kind of thing that can wait until we've tracked down some clothing. Any ideas?"
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"That might be an idea. Seems like a trek to make without any sort of clothes, though."
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Nevertheless, he nodded. "It'll have to do," he said. "I don't see an alternative, and it's not like we're not all int he same boat."
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Which was a tantalizing prospect, as Christine didn't seem to be doing so well on the "not staggering" front. It was sort of hard to adjust to the feeling of the ground pulsing under your bare feet.
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Which it probably was anyway, all things considered.
"I'd say it could be worse, but I don't like the idea of tempting fate."
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"Least we're not being shot at."
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And anyway, all the questions he could think of asking at the moment were probably the sort of thing best asked with clothing on. He'd seen the look on the woman's face. Obviously his name meant something by now- whenever 'now' was. Definitely best to at least try to look respectable before pressing further...
"It's been a long time since I've seen anywhere this... organic," he offered. "At least nothing's trying to bite us, either."
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"Mojave's out west- pretty empty. A few pockets of humanity left, but...it isn't being protected. Not properly." It was just in her nature to be bitter about the ridiculous politics of the time. "Hopefully, it'll be different here. You're the first person I've seen in...at least a month."
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"People spread out anywhere they can manage, I suppose," he said; he wasn't sure exactly how to respond to that tone just yet. "Were you assigned out there somehow, or was it your own volition?"
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She gave a heavy sigh. "But, there's time for that later. I'm...sorry to report that the Brotherhood is suffering some wear."
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Any of it; all of it.
"That's..." A hell of a thing to find out? A situation probably more complex by a factor of ten than it looked on the surface? Nothing even close to what he expected to be hearing when he set about his business today? "... something you'll have to brief me on later, I think."
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She only had a 5 in charisma and nothing in Speech, how does social???"...but it's sort of been at the forefront of my mind. I...was defending a point, before this. Being taken from that is...not where I should be right now."
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He resisted the urge to rub at his face with both hands.
"I'm not happy about being taken from my own duties, either. So I suppose we've got that in common, whatever else might be going on."
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