After receiving Kirk's reply to his message, Cargn had made his way to the Sensoriums, picking an empty one with which he can explain what he knew to the captain.

For the moment, he simply conjures up a dark room with a small table and two chairs. A pot of tea and two cups lay on top of the table.

Now, he simply takes a seat as he waits for the captain to arrive.

This will be an interesting meeting, he believes.

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers. After the revelation that their worlds are gone, many of them are even more eager to see people they knew from home.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicoms and comm rings. New crew-mates might see a green-skinned alien and snake girl among their number. There are also several authoritative-looking figures ready to introduce themselves.

There's a lot to tell the new people. It's going to be a lot to take in.

[ooc: Only new characters and Command Staff can start new threads for introductions, to limit the number of threads. Everyone else, just tag in and have your guys greet the newbies.]

The Mystery Machine stood in the same spot in the hanger where Sawyer had eventually parked it after spending hours with a group of crew members driving around in circles and passing around joints until they were all half-baked. After dealing with "Nightmare Kings", difficult deputies, a hangover, a fascist command staff, and a crew of brainless sheep, Sawyer wandered into the hangar to get away from all the levels of stupid that had permeated those that like to call themselves 'in charge.' Sawyer hated glory whores and self-anointed 'leaders.' They were nothing but walking sacks of hubris. Hubris that, like Jack and Locke, could only manage to get people hurt with their half-wit plans and knee-jerk decisions.

Hell, the entire pantheon of twits spent more time barking orders and talking at everyone that they had no clue just how deeply the resentment and distrust they had seeded in the crew had taken root. And they had no one to blame but themselves. The crew was divided, angry, and it was because of the command, not despite them.

And Sawyer had no intention of getting killed because no one could get along. So, that's why the con-man planned to get rid of the command staff--some of them, anyway. They were no longer the solution, no longer an asset. They were the problem and if their egos kept them from stepping down for the sake of the crew, for the sake of its unity, then he was going to do whatever had to be done to remove them.

But all of that could wait, for the moment. Right now, Sawyer relaxed in the back of the Mystery Machine, the door wide open, with a copy of Vonnegut's Mother Night in his lap and a lit joint between his fingers as the gears turned in his head, turning over the best means to execute his plan.

He had found a quiet corner--not in the City, which was in disarray, but in an area of the ship not often frequented by members of the crew; in a part where, while the sounds of life echoed and reached his ears, he was able to mostly ignore them.  The Sensoriums would perhaps have been a better choice, but Luke didn't want the simulation of a place this time.  This was reality, and a Jedi had to ground himself in it.

Even so, Luke found that the measure of calm he needed to quiet his mind and let the flow of the Force take him was difficult in coming.  In the aftermath of the fighting, with crew members turning on each other accusingly, he'd had to leave and go somewhere to think.  Infighting was something he was familiar with, far too familiar.  It had happened in the New Republic, and it had happened to the Galactic Alliance in the aftermath of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion.  Part of Luke--the part that wasn't the Jedi Grandmaster--was tired of it.  But he knew that somehow--he hoped somehow--that peace would be attained again.  The very last thing they needed was to fight amongst themselves.

But until then, he sat and tried to quiet his mind, and found he could not.

It had taken him a day or two to finally get the spare time, but Kirk had finally managed to get a decent recreation of the Enterprise's recreation room in the Sensoriums. Not that that was hard, considering Stacy could pluck the images from his memory. It was just as he remembered leaving it. Various games set up on different tables. Mats in one corner for sparring. Food replicators. Kirk himself sat at a table holding a 3-Dimensional chess board.. He had it prepared for a new game, white and black pieces facing each other across the board. He could remember the times he'd played spock - and lost. He'd won, too, of course. They were both excellent at the game in their own ways.

He'd invited his first officer to meet and talk  - they needed to, after all. This wasn't the Enterprise and the status quo currently didn't recognize Spock as anything but another crewmember. As loathe as he was to play favorites, Kirk wanted Spock as his XO or science officer. He was dependable. They knew each other. He was good at what he did.

With those thoughts brewing in his head, Kirk waited for his best friend to arrive.

Even captains need their moments of rest and relaxation. Kirk had retreated to the Sensoriums to try and catch his breath and ease some of the tension from the past few months. This ship was draining, sometimes in the extreme. Not for the first time he missed Enterprise. She had been his ship, for better or for worse and now that she was gone, he found he missed her more then ever. That didn't even account for the crew. Sulu, McCoy, Uhura, Scotty, Chekov - he wished he had them here right now. Their advice and support would meant quite a lot. As it was, Spock had recently arrived, but he seemed different somehow. Something he hadn't been able to put his finger on yet.

Kirk sighed to himself and finished saddling his (virtual) horse. The whole affair with Roxie Schreiber had gotten too far out of control. He'd reacted instead of letting himself think. He'd overstepped his boundaries. In one smooth motion, he slip up onto the horse, settling himself in the saddle. An apology to the crew at large was probably in order. They had a trust in him that he'd violated to a certain degree. He just wished that some of them returned that trust.

Giving up was out of the question, though. There was no such thing as a no-win situation. With a click of his tongue, Kirk flicked the reins and set the horse out into a steady trot. Ahead of him were rolling hills and blue skies. A beautiful day for a ride.

( Avatar Aang is in that in-between place. )

-

His head is fuzzy. It's both literally fuzzy, what with all the hair, and fuzzy on the inside, like the fluff from the inside of lily-tail seedpods is in there.

Aang doesn't like it.

Something is attached to his wrist--he doesn't like that either. So he tries to tug on it.

He hasn't yet figured out he's in the Medbay, heavily sedated, but when he does, sedative or not, he's going to flip his lid.

The Nightmare King has been defeated. Those crew members who were touched by his madness have been taken down.

The City is a mess. So is the rest of the ship. As is most of the crew.

But it's all over. Finally.

Welcome to the Unholy Cathedral at the heart of Escherville. It is here, in this place, that the Nightmare King has made his bid for release.

And he will not be stopped by the likes of you.

More monstrosities pour out of every angle, intent on ending this adventure. These monsters are every bit as horrific as the ones you all faced to get to this point, though you will quickly notice there is something drastically different about them.

Magic does not affect these creatures. At all.

Your spells do nothing. Your prayers are meaningless. The power of your God is useless against them.

No force in heaven or hell can affect them.

Nothing at all Magical can hurt them.

Not much time for rest during emergencies, unfortunately. However, now that part of the crew has had time to regroup, the task won't be as horrible, right? Right? Well, either way the Nightmare King isn't slowing down. It's time to break into Escherville-one way or another.

Though there might be a bit of a bit of resistance along the way. Watch out for more monsters! Have fun!

((OOC: Are you guys ready for some ACTION? Nightmare critters ahoy!))

You're the ones who are good enough (or lucky) enough to be close to Escherville. You've had the good fortune to be scooped up and now you need to regroup and get ready to take on the Nightmare King himself. Time to reorganize and gear up as best you can with what you've got. The Nightmare King isn't going to wait for you.

Get moving.

_{((OOC: This is for the various groups/peoples who will be fighting the Nightmare King directly or assisting in that endeavor. If your character was in one of the Challenge from Beyond Groups, tag them in here! Feel free to do some tagging back and forth and enjoy yourselves. Please get tagged in by Tuesday night, March 2nd though, so we can get the Final Fight properly organized. ))}

Nightmare becomes reality....

[roster: leader - Captain Kirk, Ben 10, Daimon, Eddie Bloomberg, Static, Isaac]

For a brief moment the relative silence of the ship is broken by the blaring of an alarm klaxon. The Sensoriums, the crew quarters, engineering, the observation deck, the mess hall - everywhere. It's followed moments later by Captain Kirk's voice via Stacy's PA system.

"Red alert, red alert! All hands, we are at red alert, effective immediately.! This is Captain Kirk speaking. I've just been informed that the Daligig have unearthed - and tranmitted to us - vital information about the being known to us as 'the Nightmare King'. I'm also aware of the 'waking dreams' that have been affecting all of us. I want everyone prepared and on the alert. Nanoha - assemble your team and finish your preparations immediately. I want to be moving as soon as possible. Mister Kennedy, put security on full alert. Command crew - I'll be briefing you soon. If what we've been told is correct, we face a grave threat, the likes of which some of us have likely never seen before. I will inform all of you once this information is confirmed. Kirk out."

Then his voice and the klaxons fade back into silence. Better get moving, people.

Li Shang is a very methodical man. He is conscientious and cautious, he is observant (just not enough to tell when a soldier is really a woman in men's clothing), and he knows not to just leap into things. Spontaneity is not really his strong suite.

So while Mulan had been talking to others on the ship and gathering information that way (all to be shared with him), Shang had been doing his own research. Asking questions of the ship-spirit, reading in the massive library-without-books. Shang has explored the ship itself (and of course, shared what he's found with her). He's listened to others speaking, watched them all.

After all, they had been thrown in a strange, otherworldly place, full of spirits and other spirit-creatures. From the start, there had been no telling how much of what they'd been told is actually true. He had wanted to determine some things on his own, make sure these strangers could be trusted, and just as much could be learned by watching and listening as asking. It was less likely for them to lie to them if they didn't know he had been listening in.

Between what he and Mulan have found, he thinks he has a solid understanding of the situation now. The grief he feels for the loss of his world--for the loss of China--that is something that had to be dealt with in private, as well. But now is a time for composure. Also, he doesn't quite trust what they've been told. Not yet.

However, the people in charge of this rather...disorganized group of individuals that calls itself a crew do seem trustworthy, and he has deigned it time to speak with them and see what he can offer to the crew.

For that reason, he walks into the Precinct, cape a-flarin', hand clutched regally on the hilt of his sword, and to the first person he sees there, he bows his head respectfully in greeting.

"Are you Commander Kirk? The ship-spirit directed me here when I asked to find him."

It is that time again, meatship.

Once again, the King of Nightmares has deigned to spread his touch to all of your dreams.

This time, however, he has decided to give them a much more personal touch, sending his very own children to visit each and every one of you, slowly sowing the seeds of madness within all of you.

Such a kind and loving king he is, isn't he?

[ooc: Alright folks, Nightmare King is ramping things up a bit. These nightmares are a good bit more dangerous now, and he's sending in his minions to make things a little more real. The nightmares will be of a much more serious nature this time, designed to start driving the crew slowly insane. Characters are more likely to run into nightmare minions in the guise of someone or something that will tug at the edges of their sanity. Also, this time, the characters can have joint dreams, as these nightmares are of a more mystical nature this time. Once again, tagging in isn't mandatory, but if you want to, go crazy (literally)!]

[Additional Note: Any injuries won't be carrying over to real life at this point in the plot but don't worry, we'll get there eventually!]

Kon's feet are kicked up on the interrogation table, his arms are folded behind his head, and he's leaning back in his chair. He looks immensely bored, and pretty much unrepentant. Not really a good sign from someone that can break a car in half for shits and giggles.

But mostly he seems lost in his own little world of thought. It's a bad place for him to be in--getting trapped in his head like that. It's a place he was in for a while after he found out he was cloned from Luthor, that had him sitting up alone at night reading books about sociopathy and genetics, trying to figure out if there was a genetic predisposition towards being evil.

He seems to be stuck there again.

Regardless, he sits, the chair teeters precariously, never quite falling over due to him balancing--and occasionally his TTK rooting it to the floor--and he waits for the inevitable lectures. (Lectures, plural. He knows someone from Command or Security will want to talk to him and 'Wing's probably going to talk to him just on his own).

But he'd wanted to look into things on his own and hopefully it all worked out the way he'd planned it. He wouldn't know until he got out. Lectures are worth that. Even finding nothing is finding something.

When the door finally opens, he doesn't bother seeing who it is, and just keeps staring at the ceiling. "You know, last I checked, you couldn't really hold somebody in prison unless there were laws for them to break. You should maybe get on that."

After dealing with the mess that was waking up on this strange ship of sorts, Thrall has found it very hard to fit in at all, especially when there were so many human looking creatures on this ship - as well as other oddities. Yet, strangely, no other orcs.

It took him time to orient himself with his sense of direction, being too stubborn and stoic to ask for help to find anything, and it lead him to the mess hall. It was crowded and there were many others there, but he slowly gained his bearings - very slowly. It took Thrall a few times of standing there and watching others go through the process of being scanned by that large eye before they receive any nutrients, if you could call it that.

The orc was leery of proceeding and allowing that thing to scan him, if it was even doing that. The hesitation was quite obvious in both his motions and on his face. For a creature that is as large as him, he certainly did jump when the slop was offered upon his tray. There was a sharp inhalation of whatever was offered. Is this poisonous, he wondered? Thrall then proceeded towards one of the tables to sit and stare at whatever was on his tray. Unfortunately, it was not pork. Nor was it bear meat, lion, or any other red blooded beast that he could tear his tusks into. Instead, he lifted a utensil, and poked at the slop a few times. Maybe he lost his appetite already?

Daja couldn't really say she'd "settled in" yet - this place was so strange and alien, she wasn't sure if she'd ever settle in. But she'd learned to live with non-Traders - she would learn to live with these strangers too, somehow. Even if there was so much that she didn't understand, and she felt so lonely without her family and friends.

One thing she did know was that sitting around doing nothing and moping wouldn't be any use at all. She'd spent her life working, and surely even this unfathomable place needed smiths.

So she asked for directions, and found her way to the quarters of Captain Kirk. She'd met him at the orbs deck, and he was the only person in authority she knew. He'd answered her questions then, and she hoped he could help her now.

On arrival, she knocked briskly on his door. "Captain Kirk?"

( To hell with Batman! )


((ooc: One thread would be nice so that Dustin doesn't have to explain and/or experience the same things more than once.))

There was little in the way to do for the time being, having been a new arrival on the ship and people away on some mission or another. It was as good a time as any to get settled in to the new life that was going to he handed to them on the ship. Not that red head was particularly pleased with the predicament that she found herself in with the whole thing of her universe being destroyed by this Ohm that no one really seemed to know about. That didn't settle well in the pit of her stomach at all. How were they supposed to fight a force that could destroy everything without knowing strengths and weaknesses? Kenzi seriously hopped that the command staff knew what the ruttin' heck they were doing.

After a few hours of exploring the ship she found herself in the observation deck again. Watching the stars above them had been fascinating at first with the different formations she hadn't seen before on any of the planets the Browncoats fought on or when she was in the POW camp. Which was probably why not thirty minutes in to being there that Gwen had taken the time to find a quiet spot feeling the need to stop being antsy. So she had started in to the motions they had taught them all in basic first. Her motions were slow, controlled, and fluid shifting from one style to the next depending on the mood as it struck her.

This? Was calming and relaxing. Dealing with the issue of worlds going explodie and not getting back to her troops? Not so calming and relaxing.