The last few days (or was it weeks? He hadn't bothered distinguishing one day from the next.) seemed to go by in a flurry of new sights, textures, and plenty of delectable sounds. The number of things that still remained to be examined by a curious touch, or heard by a wobbly ear firmly pressed against it, seemed limitless. And so, his wanderlust was in full force.

( Read more... )

Nehaalista stood back and admired her handiwork. Warsong Gulch lay spread out before her, each piece carefully and slowly laid in from memory. She was a little hazy where exactly one side of the gulch turned into the Barrens, but that was neither here nor there. The fact was it was big enough to move in, and that was all that mattered.


In addition to the usual look of the Gulch, Nehaalista had added a spectators' area to the north, nested securely in the branches of one of the incredibly tall trees that lined the area. So long as no one decided to knock the spectators over into the woods, Nehaalista was satisfied.


She crossed her arms and looked around one last time before nodding to herself.


((OOC: Welcome! This is a chance to play Capture the Flag as our Warcraft Denizens are used to playing it. It is permissible to post! No, guys, this does not go towards your Silverwing Sentinel or Warsong Outriders' reputation. OOC Plotting-planning-lololols are here)

Cowabunga was little less depressed, mostly thanks to his chat with Kang, and had wandered down to to the vehicle bays. He looked around, noting interesting things about each ship, untile he stopped a fair distance away into the room. There, nestled inbetween a jet and a flying saucer, were a Turbo-Charged Flying Machine and a Mechano-Hog, bearing the marks of his work.

"...They're here. They made it!" He yelled, passing his hands over the exterior of both vehicles.

Nehaalista had felt fairly satisfied that the other three had agreed to speaking (somewhat) peacefully. She did, naturally, harbor doubt about the Death Knight, but that could be rectified easily if that odious, hideous elf chose to bring her weapon.

As she'd promised, in a show of good faith, Nehaalista had entered the sensoriums weaponless. Her hand itched for the weight of her mace and arm ached for the familiar solidarity of her shield. She rubbed her hands together to dispel the wanting, and conjured up a simple stone-walled conference room in the Draenic fashion. Crystals floated above sconces, lending a warm light to the otherwise spartan room.

The conference table was square rather than rectangular - a show that all were equal in this discussion.

Before she'd gone to the bother of putting the post up, Nehaalista had prayed for guidance. Then she cheated a little by conjuring up images of the two elders she trusted enough to press her towards the answer she needed rather than what she wanted. Now, with everything in place, Nehaalista sat down at the table and steepled her fingers together.

In light of her run-in with that odious, terrible, frustrating the Death Knight and the Tauren, Nehaalista had chosen to retreat to the sensoriums. While it still baffled her a bit, it was there she could call up Tuurem, as she'd known it, before the Horde, before her own training had led her family to the city.

It was a little collection of small homes and buildings (small as compared to a Draenei, anyway), along the river. Villagers she remembered, now long, long dead, bustled here and there, attending to business that had never concerned Nehaalista. Huntsmen and bakers, blacksmiths and fishwives, all protected by the peacekeepers that patrolled the town in twos. The sound of hooves were everywhere. Somewhere in the distance, an elekk trumpeted as it came down the road. The light in Terrokar was blue as ever, thanks to the olemba trees filtration.

Nehaalista sat next to the riverbank and watched workers setting up tents for a festival of one kind or another. She smoothed a hand over the skirt of her robe and nibbled at some bread. She passed it over to the little Draenei boy next to her and signed, [Eat, Faram.] The words appeared over her head as she signed them. It was good to hear her mothertongue spoken in such volume again, coming over the buildings and rooftops in half-muttered curses and well-meaning joking.

Nehaalista was just where she'd promised she'd be. Most days she spent were on the Observation Deck, watching the Bleed go by much the same way she'd watched it pass on the Exodar before the crash. Back then, however, she'd also been occupied with proper duties, and proper training. And family.

She shook her head and looked at her wares. Necklaces, rings, small loose gems, large loose gems, settings, bracelets and cuffs. It shone and glinted in the light. She toyed idly with one of her curls, pulling it straight and letting it snap back.

Well, if they wanted them, they would come. In the meantime, Nehaalista picked up a book and read, The Light and How to Swing It

Zuko's in a hurry on his way to the forge. The sooner he has real swords, the sooner he can get back to training.

(He could always use pretend ones in the Sensorium, but that feels like cheating.)

On the way, he's thinking of what, exactly, he's going to pay Dustin with. They danced around the subject of reimbursement, but Zuko knows, nothing's ever free.

The fights had taken their toll; she was missing a chunk of one ear, but she was mostly recovered and was now sitting in one of the Sensoriums with a small knife, mortar and pestle, and several potted plants.

Choline had gotten seeds from Planet Vacation and had let them sprout. Now she was prying apart stems and flowers to see what lay inside.

Perhaps she could draft a potion or two out of them, or maybe make some nice-smelling incense.

The elf sat cross-legged on the ground, her messy green hair draped over one shoulder as she peered at the tiny little bits of organic matter she'd managed to harvest.

The setting was the fields around Risembool. It was a nice day, perfect weather.

And then, quite without warning a cardboard cutout representation of a Ohm in mid-slice popped up.

kree krick freen JOWN ZWWEEEEEE!

With a resounding brrzack of discharged energy, the target exploded as more targets started to pop up. The weapon discharged three times, one sailing past harmlessly, the other two clipping the shoulders. Ed made a "tch" noise, readjusted his aim and fired again, the weapon making the cutout explode.

"There we go," said Ed with satisfaction. His accuracy without alchemy wasn't very good, at a projected 15/20 out of the targets hit and/or clipped. But he was getting better. And precision, accuracy and a steady hand was what he needed which was why he was going with cardboard "ducks on parade" rather than "live" targets.

A group of cutouts inter spaced with "non hostiles" appeared and he fired his new arm cannon, the shots picking off cutout after cutout, and he winced reflexively whenever he clipped a not-ohm. Though he had a moment of grim amusement as one of his shots went wild and blasted a hole in the cardboard Roy's crotch.

"Best. Gun. Ever." said Ed resolutely.

Morale was high, and everyone had their share of fun, but now it was time to part ways with Zokez II.

As everyone made their way back to the spaceport to be picked up, they could see the Obs Deck waiting for them with ramp open, and large tendrils eagerly moving vehicles and cargo back aboard.

It's about time to say goodbye to this planet...but fate, it seems, has other ideas.

[OOC: PLOT BEGINS! Here's how it goes: A handful of techies and a couple fighty people (as escort) will be on the reactor end of this part of the plot, while everyone else can help out with the evacuation.]

[OOC pt 2: Also, sorry, it apparently wasn't clear that they hadn't actually gotten back onto the ship yet. Plot is obviously taking place on the planet.]

Night had fallen and Ed was out in full force.

Having decided to wait till the evening to make the effort even more spectacular, Ed had waited till the sun had set before performing his alchemy. A fitting tribute and all together frivolous, he clapped his hands.

A ring of energy formed and a statue formed of Alphonse in what he considered to be a heroic pose. He clapped his hands again and more statues formed; Armstrong without his shirt and posing, Fuery looking heroic with gun at his side while petting Den, Breda with a sandwich, Havoc in mid-drag of his ever-present cigarettes, Granny Pinako with her pipe, and even Hoenheim, as much as Ed was frustrated with him deserved a spot on his little beachfront adjustment. May stood at the bottom of the group, hands folded into her sleeves, and Ran Fan's grandfather stood in the final position.

It would stand here on the beach, rimming a set of rocks that he also had transmuted into strong glass and marble. A statement that the Fullmetal Alchemist had been here, and he was leaving his mark across the universe.

Ed grinned as he tapped his sneaker against the sand. "Looks pretty decent," he said to himself.

He felt that he didn't need to add statues of those awake. They being on this planet was enough.

It was nice to be out on solid ground, to breathe fresh and salt-tinged air, and to feel the real warmth of the sun on her neck and shoulders, Nanoha thought. She felt a very deep urge welling up within her breast to just take flight, to soar through an actual sky in the first time in months - and she had no doubt that she would.

But there were other things she had to take care of first. Like, for instance, swimsuit shopping with her best friend.

"Ooh, this store looks like it might have some cute ones!" Nanoha tugged on Fate's hand, pulling her towards one of the storefronts that lined this street of the bustling shopping district. Even if it didn't, there were still plenty of others to try, and plenty of cute outfits to convince Fate to try on.

(ooc: It might help to have just one thread for ALL YOUR SHOPPING NEEDS? Feel free to tag in and mingle, if you're shopping for clothes, groceries, games, whatever!)

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.]

[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... )