While Diana was never one for overly exercising, usually doing just enough to keep herself in her wonderful curved shape, she did see that the whole ‘clears your mind’ thing was somewhat accurate. 

And her mind felt very crowded. Plus, she couldn’t argue the disadvantages of being in top physical condition when the ship went to heck for the millionth time.

So, she deck out the sensorium into her own gym. A bit of running, then maybe some swimming with Jinx if she texted her to come over.   

True, by the end of this day she’d most likely be over worked, sore and far too tired, but that almost meant she’d want nothing more than to drift into a dreamless sleep without any weight of past event or futures worries. 

Provisions had recently discovered the wonders of sky dancing and so spent him time diving and twirling in the air high above Diana’s head, apart from when she was shooting, then he would peck at the ground near her feet to avoid the possibility of stray bullets.

The two groups were free, Punchy had been safely left in a shield bubble, and now that Brainiac 5 was free from his mother's control and closer to himself again, it was only a matter of stopping Brainiac 4 from enacting her plans to harm the crew.

That task was probably easier said than done, of course.

The world was busy, and so fast. Always moving faster then Orc could move, or think. It seemed like life was passing in the slow solid blinks of his beady little eyes.

Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.

Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.

But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.

And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.

The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.

The fauxbellion had gone just as planned.

Allenby and everyone else that had 'rebeled' against the Daligig had played their parts well, as had the ones that had put down the rebellion. Command and Council had gained some respect amongst the Daligig, and had been rewarded with more control over Stacy.

The 'rebelers' had been dragged off to the brig under the watchful eye of the Daligig, but had not stayed for long; Aibghalien's illusions had allowed them to leave with the Daligig being none the wiser. Unfortunately, they were paying a little more attention to the prisoners than had been expected.

The portal system (unknown to the Daligig) that Celena had set up allowed for easy access in and out of the Precinct. The prisoners were allowed out in shifts, under the supervision of other crewmembers, to do work repairing buildings in the City.

Also unknown to the Daligig, the repairs were largely a lie as well.

There was still a real rebellion to be had, and that would require weapons spread out in locations all over the City. It would also require less interference from Stacy. It was easy to make spaces to store said weaponry and to install jamming fields that Engineering had been working on under the guise of repairs.

The building that one small group was working on was unlike anything on Earth, and made completely of a very durable grey stone. The Daligig would pop in on occasion to check on the prisoners, but they never paid much attention to what was actually being done, content to leave if it looked enough like the prisoners were doing as they were told. It was clear the Daligig didn't think highly of their intelligence.

Grif had been tasked with supervising the group of five. The Daligig had made a check only five minutes before, and weren't due for another few hours.

It was the perfect time to investigate the slime that was on one of the walls, about knee-high. For those that were observant, the Ghyyl were rather slimy in appearance, and it was about the perfect height for a Ghyyl's arms.

In the Fortress of the Overlord, surrounded by minions and servitors who were (for once) merely standing around and adding their presence to his majesty, Zetta sat on his throne and waited. His gaze fixed on the 'gates', such as they were, he waited with as much assumed Overlordly dignity as he could manage.

He expected a report, damn it! And a good one!

Within a great dome suspended in the sky by magic or technology -- because really, what was the difference? -- the final arena took form. Which was to say it took no form, or any form. The two combatants found themselves deposited on opposite sides of a slick translucent platform, surrounded by pitch-darkness. In that darkness, vague hints of shifting remembrances of old battles swirled, ready to leap out and remake the arena at a whim.

On one side, the warrior lord Hogan Bight, alternatively known as the dragon Crucible.

On the other side, the Viking warrior-girl turned lightning-lord, Ruffnut.

There came no signal, no alarm, no warning, no notice to begin. There came only the simple knowledge that now was the time to claim final victory.

Neuropathy sat to one side of Engingeering, dark save for the blue glow of the monitors on all sides displaying brainwaves and technical readouts. Above, trolleys hanging from the framework are sillouetted against the sporadic glow of neurons firing like so many shooting stars. Those who have never been to this area before might wonder why they've never bothered, but to those who have it's just another day at the office.

After speaking to one who appeared rather interested in the workings of the gateway devices she had been instrumental in constructing, Celena had seen to making her way via said gateway system to the device located within Engineering, where she had agreed to meet with the individual in question.

Letting the portal remain open for a moment longer she tapped the holographic console beside the open portal, bringing up the maintenance and status displays to ensure that the readings were as they should be. Satisfied she cut the portal with a tap of a claw before sitting back on her haunches, going through the maintenance displays while she waited.

[OOC: First thread for the Tenth Doctor, others welcome afterwards though]

Billy is hard at work on the teleporters, trying to ensure that they're all in working order. They'll have to move through the ship quickly if they're going to carry out these plans. He's walked through most of the common areas of the ship today, testing both by himself and with a backpack of items of various sizes. One of the items is his datapad, kept to ensure he always has something to work on during the cooldown periods.

So far, everything seems to be in working order. He's run a check at each station: he trusts Ronnae completely, but there's always the concern that the system could be tampered with. If it's malfunctioning, he needs to catch it early.

Unfortunately, his streak of good luck ends with a snag. Upon warping into the Hub, he finds that he no longer casts a shadow. A look down confirms that he's no longer visible. Oh well---it could be worse.

He shrugs and resumes his work in silence, the only visible sign of his presence being the tools floating in the air just beside the pad.

[Teleporter fun post! Any of the malfunctions listed here are fair game to play with.]

It was rare to spot the Daligig outside of restricted zones, and even more rare to find one of the hidden entrances. They knew the ship better than the crew, and purposely chose what times they utilized said entrances to minimize the chances of being seen.

Rachel and Aximili had hit the jackpot, though.

A lone Daligig walked through the pods in the pod cavern, confident that she was not being watched or followed. No one ever spent time in that area of Stacy. She didn't even have any Kessek bodyguards to protect her. She headed for a slime-covered wall, spoke a command, and waited for a panel to appear. She then put her hand on the panel for several seconds.

|| Biometrics accepted. You are authorized to enter. ||

She walked through the opening that materialized, the door closing automatically behind her and disappearing completely into the wall as if it had never been there, along with the panel.

"And so the crew of the Transmigration Nine has DOMINATED the tournament, coming at last to the semifinals, where four brave souls now strive to see which of them is the best!" the leg-mustached orb announced to the camera cloud! It paused, then continued in a more witty tone, "Of course, there are no rules against selling your soul for the power to advance, so maybe I'm being a little too charitable, huh?"

Pause for laughter, and...

"Victory and the prize seems assured for these warriors... or DOES it?" Pause for gasp. "We need some motivation for the best fights to come out! We can't let them go easy on each other! So from here on out..." Aaaand pause for dramatic effect...

"The loser will surrender ALL their powers to the winner! That's right! Lose this round and walk away a boring, ordinary human being, dragon, or whatever that purple guys is! This is for ALL the marbles, kids!"

The program cut to commercial, as the MC turned to the eliminated crew members. "It's not true, by the way, but don't tell your friends that. Your electric-man friend especially seems to have way too many scruples for him to go all-out without motivation. Let them think the stakes are high. It's good publicity."

Sherlock Holmes would have preferred to keep his head down as much as possible as far as the Daligig were concerned. To investigate them properly, he needed freedom of movement and given the current atmosphere, with people apparently getting repodded all the time, it seemed that to keep his freedom, he really needed to avoid their attention.

However, one really couldn't run an investigation without actually investigating.

It had started with the smallest clue, a strange substance that had been oozed at about knee level on the side of a building in the City. Most wouldn't have noticed it or just assumed it was mud if they had seen it and very few people would have actually seen it, as it was far, far away from the usual places the crew inhabited.

Chemical analysis, courtesy of the Contagion and Containment lab and the scanners on the omnicoms (which took the fun out of things just a bit, as far as Sherlock was concerned) had registered it as a viscous colloid containing glycoproteins and water. There were also various antiseptic enzymes, immunoglobulin, and inorganic salts.

In a word: mucus. Alien mucus. Mucus that had epithelial cells that matched one of his samples taken from the crew areas, left behind when a touring entourage of Daligig, Kessek, and Ghyll passed through a hallway. He hadn't been able to see which species left the substance, but the Daligig and Kessek didn't seem prone to oozing anything. The Ghyll, on the other hand, looked a bit...moist, as if they had a protective coating of something over their skin.

Ghyll mucus then, at knee level, which was arm level for them. It fit. It was on a city street that wasn't often used or inhabited, though, which begged a very important question: what were Ghyll doing wandering around the City, which for the most part seemed to be lacking any vital technology or structures for them to be working on?

That led to him discretely monitoring their movements until he stumbled on exactly what he suspected was there: a secret entrance that possibly went to the restricted areas of the ship, perhaps one of many. It was hidden right behind the very mundane front door of a building, which as far as he could tell was actually just built around a large nubby juncture of Stacy, where the stone and asphalt of the city met Stacy's flesh. So far, he had determined that it didn't seem to be guarded and also that it wasn't entirely solid flesh on the other side of the door. There was some sort of membrane there, semi-transparent and resistant to use of force, that was blocking off a long tunnel, one lit up with tiny phosphorescent lights like the Pod Caverns.

Finding it was an accomplishment, certainly, but getting through it like the Ghyll did was another matter entirely and that was why he was risking exposure a great deal by prodding around the entrance, trying to find a way to let the membrane open up and let him in.

How did that saying go? He tended to delete trite sayings. Oh yes.

"Needs must when the devil drives," he muttered to himself.

Given what Kerrigan had shown him, given what the Daligig had done to her, it was fairly safe to say that devils were driving.

Little did he know that within the tunnels, the Ghyll had been making some interesting modifications to Stacy's nerves, which were giving out signals that were quite detectable to those that were keeping an eye out for anything interesting...

With the Council having laid down the groundwork with the Daligig to gain their trust in the uprising, the crew prepared to put on a show, and the Daligig at their wit's end and impatient with the crew of the Transmigation 9, it was time to act.

The plans were clear. Allenby would be leading some of the crew in what looked like a hotheaded attempt the attack the Daligig and Kessek and oust them off the ship. Those that wanted to stay out of the fighting and take a neutral position of some kind were to make sure they stayed safe or acted their parts as the horrified crew-members that wanted everyone to make peace. And of course, anyone else was going to play a roll in pretending to side with the Council and the Daligig to put their fellow crew members down (without hurting them) making it look like it wasn't a clear-cut issue, so the Council could get the command codes necessary to start the crew's true takeover of the ship.

More observant members of the crew had noticed where the Daligig, Ghyll, and Kessek had been entering and leaving the restricted areas of the ship. The attack was to start at one of those entrances, as the fake rebels tried to storm in and take on the Daligig forces. After that, as the Kessek were drawn into the ship itself to put down the rebellion, it was going to be a free-for-all, a faux civil war of sorts, as flashy and convincing as they could make it without anyone actually dying.

Lights! Cameras! Action, people! It was time to put on a show and hope it was convincing enough for the Daligig to give the crew what they needed to truly be free.

[ooc: Go Go Go!]

Who: Elle (Courier Six) and YOU
Where: Anywhere you want, though these are specific locations that'll be popping up: Hydroponics, the Garibah Tree, the Public Bathroom in the City, and a wall near the Level 5 Sleeping Halls teleporter. And, for the sake of narration, the Lucky 38. The Drunken Dragon Tavern will be added later!
When: Any time ranging from shortly after the podpops to the past week or so.
Summary: Elle has been occupying herself by exploring the ship, especially the City. I'm going to set this post up in a bit of a weird way, with the OP being a general exploring post, and then threads for specific locations, just to make things clean and easily organized. Feel free to tag into any of the threads unless it's marked as [CLOSED], and you can start your own thread with Elle set in another location of your choosing if you'd like! These settings are just starting points, in a way.
Warnings: None?

( like a straying baby lamb, with no mammy and no pappy )

When he had been sedated and placed into the pods, Daimon Hellstrom's heart felt as though it were on fire. When he woke the pain had spread to his entire body. He had been released into one of the halls but he couldn't stand again. He didn't even have the strength to stay on his hands and knees and collapsed onto the floor.

"No." He whispered.

Daimon heard Stacy's gentle, encouraging voice in his head but not listening. He couldn't make out the words.

It was impossible to focus on anything but the pain. He couldn't remember where he'd been before now. He tried to clear his mind and focus but it was useless.

"Months," the word kept running through his mind. Why?

You're dying. And with the realization came other memories. His weakness, his chest pains, all symptoms he had ignored for as long as he could until he saw Dr. Hussain. Somehow, he knew he was dying. He could feel it but until she said "less than six months" he hadn't realized how quickly it was all happening.

Now that time was gone. He had spent it in the pods as Stacy tried in vain to heal him.

Daimon clawed at the floor but even his attempts to crawl failed.

Not yet. God, please not yet. Patsy. Let me see Patsy one more time.

Maybe it's just a product of living under the all seeing eye of Stacy...but it sure feels like there's someone lurking just out of sight.

And that's because there is. The adjustment period for Doug had not been easy since he had woken up. Between not having his pills and knowing that GLADoS was still alive he had already been on edge. But as tensions among the crew rose due to the day to day life of plotting rebellions, fighting for survival attending funerals. It became a bit much.

So sticking to the shadows he creeps, and stalks, and studies the crew. Who can be trusted? Who is dangerous and threatening? Even a man so intimidated by science can't deny the merit behind studying a subject from afar to better understand them.

Creeping about the ship you'd think a disheveled and bearded man with a large box on his back with hearts on it would be easier to spot. But Doug spent years hiding from GLADoS so it's become second nature to the aptly named "Rattmann."

((OOC: Go ahead about your business, you can either notice Doug stalking you or eventually maybe...possibly, he'll reveal himself willingly. Bit Doug is a timid creature so that may take some doing.))

When Stacy had stopped at a planet to allow for a short run for supplies, Sherlock had jumped at the opportunity to get off the ship. It wasn't so much that he hated the ship--he was still utterly fascinated with it, in fact, and exploring everything he could about it--but it was an opportunity to see an entirely different world. Getting a feel for all the kinds of possibilities that could be out there would help him adjust to the surprises he might find on actual missions.

He wasn't the only one that had wanted to stretch his legs. John had tagged along, of course, and so had Sirius, who Sherlock sincerely hoped would keep the flirting to a minimum this time. There also was a stranger, a woman that had introduced herself as Patsy, who apparently had a habit of wearing a cat mask. Sherlock had thought it absolutely ridiculous--until they got down to the planet, where it turned out that garish clothing was rather commonplace, meaning that she fit in with the locals. (Even then, it was still a little ridiculous.)

It was, incredibly, unbelievably, a world with actual magic. Not horribly different than he and John's own, but with everything powered by magic and an untold number of magical species, like trolls, goblins, dwarves, elves, and fairies. Skyscrapers existed but were sprawling structures that seemed to defy the laws of physics, cars drove through the streets--but they hovered off the ground and left behind sparkly exhaust, and right now, it seemed very fashionable for them to be in the stylized shapes of pumpkins.

At the moment, they were all walking through a magical marketplace, where individuals in colorful clothes of a variety of species were hawking rather incredible wares like magic mirrors and foods that apparently prepared themselves for dinner. Behind them, they were carting along a hovering cart for the supplies they were getting--apparently the ship's supplies of magical ingredients and implements needed to be replenished so that there were some for those who were magically-inclined to have them on hand if they were needed.

"This is..." He wasn't going to say it was incredible. He had a whole unimpressed facade to maintain. "Improbable."

And yes, very interesting.

A drunken pixie flew over their heads in wobbly circles and threw up fairy dust all over a very grim-faced troll, who immediately started shaking a fist at her and cursing.

"Oh, the whimsy," he added sarcastically, although he did look amused.

||Attention, Attention. The following personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. The following personnel please report to the Observation Deck.

Goliath
Farseer Alastirra
N'tho 'Sraom
Kang
Rainbow Dash
Crematia||

When the summoned gathered, mission information was displayed on the Obs Deck for them to see:


Planet Designation: Hendersus Villae
Status: Terrestrial, H-class
Non-sentient life: Minimal flora, aggressive nonsentient fauna.
Semi-sentient life: No
Sentient life: Yes
Water: 25% of planet's surface
Climate: Primarily volcanic with frequent ash and lightning storms, dry and hot at volcanically active equator, temperate seas to the north and south poles.
Landscape: Variable. Much of the planet's landmasses are constantly being reworked by lava flows.
Air: Normoxic concentration: 31% oxygen, 60% nitrogen, 2% xenon, 4% trace gases, such as hydrogen, krypton, and argon.
Air Pressure: 93.8 kPa (kilopascals) = 13.6 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Pale red, when visible.
Sun: Class G yellow star, distant orbit and dim light.
Warnings: Not suitable for crew incapable of flight, or without superhuman endurance.
Mission: Search and rescue Zarom Ghartha, missing GIA wizard, last seen en-route to investigate severe magical disturbance detected in the area of the planet. Crew is advised that native fauna is likely to be antagonistic, native sentients unfit to assist beyond the offering of information.

The majority of the crew had fallen.

And thought Stacy's valiant warriors comprised most of the quarterfinalists, they still have a chance to lose it all, if a few of them should fail.


[Results are due by the end of Thursday -- one extra day because this didn't post right!]

|| Attention, crew. Those who wish to attend the funeral of Matthew O'Connor, please report to the Observation Deck. ||

Another death announcement so soon after the last. It's a sad day.

Once again, the Observation Deck is arranged for the launch. The departed crew member, better known as Punchy in his lifetime, is encased in a central pod. The deck is lit by the starlight pouring in from the open window, a blazing blue star that will soon be Punchy's final resting place.

Another life lost. Time to say farewell once more.