Several buildings in the City had been completely destroyed during Aang's rampage, but a few had survived relatively unscathed. It had only taken Kang two days to repair the Drunken Dragon; he'd done so by himself, not even waiting for his leg to heal up a bit first.

Usually, he didn't bother lighting any candles or using the fireplace in the tavern unless it was a period when the artificial sun had set. He could see perfectly fine in the dim light. For the celebration, though, he'd thrown the windows open wide, scrounged up every candle he could find, and started up a fire, knowing that human vision wasn't as good as his own. The tables surrounding the stage had been cleaned, as well as the tankards, and the door was propped open. The bozak had even wrestled two of the 60-gallon barrels from the back room into a corner of the main room for easier access, one of cactus juice and one of ale. If more was needed, he was sure he could get someone to help bring out another.

Tess had commandeered the kitchen to make her food, bringing in her own equipment. Kang had been slightly afraid at first that she was going to burn the place down, but nothing had happened yet. She seemed to know what she was doing, even if she'd given him a few scares.

The sunlight glistened on the old sword blade teeth and dinnerplate eyes of the comical-looking wooden dragon grinning above the entrance. Come in, relax, have a drink and a bite to eat!

[OOC note: Both drinks are alcoholic, and the cactus juice has twice the kick of the ale. :D;]

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.

Everyone had been so nice to Ryo since he had awoken a day prior. He wanted to show his appreciation to his friends and the crew, and get a chance to meet others. So, he walked back into the sensoriums and imagined a place. As he opened his eyes, there was the Milk Dipper. Wood finish, stars decorating the place, rough hewn wooden tables and the telescope in it's pedestal at the center. Everything was as it should be, except for one thing. Behind the counter, looking very confused, was a green-skinned demon who bore no resemblance to Airi. Ryo registered his shock as the demon spoke.

"This... is NOT my bar..." The green one said, his own shock evident. He looked at Ryo. "And you're not Peter..." Ryo, not knowing what to do, bowed quickly.

"I'm sorry, Oni-san, I just wanted to throw a party for everyone, with karaoke and dancing, and I didn't mean to summon you!" The demon shook his head, waving Ryo off.

"It's Lorne, and you had me at karaoke. Now, this place.... I like it. Kind of a kitsch-meets-class thing going on... It does need to be bigger, though..." Lorne snapped his fingers and the cafe expanded, now as large as an auditorium. The telescope pedestal sat firmly in the center of a well-polished dance floor, underneath a disco ball and lighting set up. To the left of the counter was a stage with a karoake set-up, and behind the counter was now a lot more than just coffee. Otherwise, the decor remained the same.

"Alright, Ryo-kun." Lorne said with a smile. "Give everyone the heads up and get this party started." Ryo nodded, amazed by the demon's abilities, and gave a call on the omnicomms.

[[ OOC: It's karaoke dance party time! Start a sub-thread with your character singing a song, socializing, or just being a wallflower, and let the CR flow! Especially great for newbies to meet folk and influence people!]]

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.]

Some cheer was definitely needed on this ship. Whatever chance meeting had brought Kaylee and Claudia together in mechanical mischief had also set their minds to turning over what they could possibly do to get some smiles back on the faces of those onboard.

A costume party.

Claudia had come up with the idea, really. She knew a bit more about it than Kaylee did, but she explained it all in such a way that Kaylee really couldn’t resist wanting to throw one. It’d be a good chance for everyone to let loose and have a good time in the midst of the nightmare madness. Who could resist that?

The sensorium had been melded to an image from Kaylee’s mind, though. A grand ballroom, with marble floors and painted ceiling. A large buffet table stood against one of the walls, covered mostly in fruit, but in some other hors d’oeuvres as well.

[[ OoC: Party style!! Costumes aren't a requirement, but they are fun. If you've got questions about anything, ask Cheryle or Holly. :D ]]

As his mecha's gatling gun cools, Sima Yi finds himself trying, once again, to recall just how long he's been here.

The home he's still infuriated at the thought of having lost seems so near; and yet, he's here amongst innovations that make those of the first seventeen centuries after his death seem like child's play. Up until the first half of the 20th century, the technological advances were based on concepts he could grasp comparatively easily - but the implications of the introduction of the vacuum tube, the foetal stages of the computer era, are a little more than he can take in. He's still trying to wrap his head around the technology he's trying out now.

He'd ended up studying the evolution of war machines over those seventeen centuries - not just that of his own world, but of some similar ones as well. The machine he was trying out now would never exist in his own world, but it had been used in another one's World War II; its design had more in common with the tanks of that era than with his crewmates' mecha - and there were two or three just like it sitting in Weapons and Possessions.

It hadn't taken him long to decide he wanted one, even if the idea had frightened him at first; it had taken him a while to reassure himself that it really was safe to ride in something powered by explosions, but evidently where the machine came from, internal combustion engines were ubiquitous and no one really though twice about them. And even though the cockpit is sitting directly over a massive diesel engine, it's armored well enough to keep the pilot alive if that engine should suddenly become shrapnel.

Before he made a final decision, he was getting a feel for the machine's performance, and gauging whether he could stand being stuck inside it for hours, if necessary, during a mission. So far, the cockpit is more comfortable than he had expected, despite the cramped quarters and lack of ventilation, and the exhaust system designed well enough that the smell of diesel fumes wasn't a problem - and after seeing what the gatling gun could do to the broken-down car he's using as a target, he can definitely see himself getting to like this thing despite its flaws.

Another flaw was the fact that he'd have to get out to disconnect the spent ammo belt from the gun and feed in a new one - he's blown through one already because he was trying to get a sense of how to time his bursts of fire so that they were as short and efficient as possible, he told himself, not because of how enthralling the sight of what had once been a seemingly invulnerable metal vehicle being shredded into scrap by gunfire was. As he shuts off the engine and kicks at the bar securing the hatch until it opens, he reflects again on how many hundreds of moving parts this machine has - and he's going to need to learn how to maintain them all himself. Here, he couldn't expect to be able to enlist anyone to help him, and if the mecha developed problems on a mission, it would be a liability at best and an outright hazard at worst if he couldn't fix it.

He didn't realize how hot it had gotten inside the mecha until he climbs out - it almost seems chilly by comparison outside. As he ducks under the machine's tank gun - mounted on the cockpit - and makes his way over to the gatling gun - mounted on one of the machine's arms - to disconnect the empty ammo belt and feed in the new one, he's too absorbed in the task to notice that he's no longer alone in the sensorium.

Adjustment to the ship had taken a bit longer than Kaylee would have liked it to, but things seemed pretty well settled now. Everyone was calming down after the excitement of finding themselves not where they should be, and those who had been around before were doing a right shiny job of making anyone new as comfortable as possible during the change (no small task, in a ship that seemed to breathe and suits that pulsed uncomfortably against your skin).

Being settled meant that other doors were opening up, too, particularly exploration. Some places were off limits, as they were in any other ship, but that didn't mean she couldn't take a look around and see if she couldn't find exactly what powered Stacy, right? Right.

With the messenger bag filled with her tools slung over her shoulder, Kaylee started her search.

The new people will find themselves ushered out of Obs Deck, so it can be shot down to the planet again, to pick the crew up. Eventually, the crew members on the mission are brought back up, and the doors open to let the two groups meet.

The newbies are likely not expecting their new crew-mates to come back bearing presents--which some of them are.

[ooc: This time anyone can post in. REMEMBER TO TAG OTHER PEOPLE, THO. This is set after the mission so mission peoples can meet the newbies. Latecomer newbies, if you want, you can just tag your guys into this one to make things easier.]

Something...odd is happening on the ship. Plant-like protrusions are occasionally sprouting in places throughout the ship.

They look like mistletoe, but this is purely coincidental. It's not like it's the holidays on the ship, right? It might be for some people, back home (if they still had a home), but others were grabbed from different times. No, it's just coincidence that these little devices look vaguely like mistletoe, and coincidence what they're being used for.

For you see, when this "mistletoe" is overhead, a crew member will be trapped in an invisible forcefield, and won't be able to escape until someone has kissed them or otherwise showed them some equivalent of affection. (Cheek kisses and sloppy puppy kisses from the canine crew members count). The "mistletoe" spring itself is shielded itself and can't be destroyed, the only way out is a kiss.

Why is this all happening? GLaDoS is performing whacky behavioral experiments, that's why. Each time, it happens, she intones messages like the following.

"Please express affection for your fellow crewmate to free them."

"This is of the utmost importance, and part of ongoing Crew Coherency and Cooperation Studies."

"Please do not attempt to leave the vicinity until you have participated."

"Participation is required. Why wouldn't you want to participate?"

"The Transmigration9 AI Complex thanks you for your participation in important research. Unless you don't want to participate, but not participating would make me disappointed. I suppose you just want to disappoint me."

And of course, sometimes she even outright lies.

"There will be cake."

When Marco stumbled across the media library, he concluded that this had to be the best day so far on this freaky meatship.

Music. Massive screens. A giant, alien entertainment centre. And, most importantly - video games.

Marco was immediately drawn to the tall white box with the strange looking controllers. He snorted when he saw the name "Wii" (who though that was a good idea? The puns where almost too easy) but hey, this was clearly gaming of the future. Or gaming of a strange and bizarre alien race - it was hard to tell. Either way, it was cool, and Marco was so going to try it out.

He fished around for a vaguely interesting looking game, bypassing all the ones that looked boring (Wii Fit? Cricket? Imagine: Fashion Idol?! pfft), eventually settling on Escape from Bug Island.

Marco had been a bug before. Waaaaay too many times. Now he could squish them in safe video game fun.

But as Marco began to play, his good mood rapidly diminished. Who thought up this whole "swinging around the controller" thing? What the hell was going on with that animation?

"What the hell is with this?!" He yelled, as he tried to get the control to do what he wanted dammit. "This is nuts! GAMING OF THE FUTURE IS CRAP!"

[[ooc: For reference, this is the extraodinarily bad game Marco is playing.]]

Anyone who knows Luna, either as a fictional character or as a person, should be well aware that she's a fairly bubbly, active person. Which, honestly, should render it very, very peculiar for her to be seated in the Obs Deck, not doing anything, protuberant blue eyes fixed on the floor. Her wand lies forgotten on the ground beside her, robes a bit off-kilter. On rare occasion, she blinks.

Luna is thinking about the Inferi, and at the same time thinking about nothing. She is thinking about the first meeting of Dumbledore's Army, and at the same time thinking about nothing. On rare occasion, she blinks. Wrackspurts cross her mind vaguely, but she disregards them with nary a thought, knowing somewhere underneath her numbness that her lack of cogent thought has nothing to do with invisible creatures floating through her ears.

Honestly, she'd thought she would get over this by now. You know, the fact that her entire Universe is gone, all of those lovely things that she has yet to discover. She hasn't even learned how to Apparate, or taken her O.W.L.s, or... well, there are a lot of things that she hasn't done. She isn't particularly concerned by a lot of them - the main issue is that her friends are gone, as far as she knows, along with her father. The only good thing in the situation is that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is most likely gone with the rest of them, but even as she tries to make such light of the situation, the reality sinks on her head like a pair of fluffy, black earmuffs, and she realizes yet again that she won't see her rook-shaped house in Ottery St. Catchpole again, won't ever finish that mural on the ceiling. She'll miss Harry's birthday every year for the rest of her life.

And as she thinks this, she is thinking nothing at the same time. On rare occasion, she blinks.

Bored and seriously needing a way to distract herself from knowing her world was gone, Claudia had decided that the ship did indeed warrant more exploring. Blah blah blah, she'd heard the warning of not exploring on one's own. But C'MON! The ship was pulsing and was fleshy and all around ew! How'd they just expect her to sit around???

Walking a little bit further, and realized that she must have stumbled across the Weapons and Possessions locker. Grinning, she peeked inside and seeing that there was no one else inside, sauntered in and looked around with wide eyes.

"Dude no way!" she squealed her gaze falling on various objects that she recognized from various movies and video games she'd played.

"Sweeeeeeeeeet!" Man, Artie would go nuts in this place! Her eyes widened as she slowly walked around the room, her fingers trailing along various objects and her mouth seemed to be twisted up in a perma grin. This was waaaaaaaaay too cool!

Hearing a noise behind her, Claudia suddenly spun around and her elbow caught the edge of a cage -sending it crashing to the ground. Wincing, she looked around, hoping that no one had heard the sound. Well since no one had come barreling in demanding to know what was going on, she seemed safe at the moment...

Or so she thought.... Until she heard a whimpering sound coming from around her feet.

Looking down, she smiled seeing what looked like a fuzzy ball of fur looking up at her with the most pathetic eyes she'd ever seen. "Awwwwwwwww! Aren't you cuúuuuuuuute?!" Claudia cooed and leaned over to pick it up. It looked oddly like Fizzgig from The Dark Crystal and awww! It was too sweet! But as she reached for it, the fur ball snarled at her and snapped at her with a row of very sharp, very pointy teeth.

"Hey! What the-" Claudia cried, snatching her hand back before the creature could latch onto it. "So NOT cute! HEY!" She squealed, jumping back as it snapped at her ankles. "AHHHHHHHHH!" She quickly scaled up one of the lockers as the ball of fluff decided that her ankles would make a most excellent snack.

Peering over the edge of the locker, Claudia scowled down at the furry thing. "Not cool! So not cool...." She sighed, her gaze drifting toward the door. NOW would be a good time for someone to actually come in. Nooooooooow would be good.... Or now... "Helloooooooooooooooo??? A little help here! Someone? ANYONE?!"

The conversation between the bridge crew, Stacy, and the Admiral is broadcasted where the rest of the crew is in the MedBay, and gathered right outside. Even in the bridge itself, the sound echoes over the monitors so that anyone resistant to psionics can hear Elfangor's side of the conversation.

They have now been told why they were brought to the ship.

Their worlds are gone, destroyed by the Ohm. They are refugees in an unforgiving Omniverse.

Transmigration 9 is an ark.

While Stacy is partially restored, including her core personality (which is far more personable), she is still severely damaged, and running on automatic somewhat. Until the ship can be repaired, podpops will keep occuring and they will be forced to go on missions to undo the damage the Ohm have wrought to the Omniverse. The threat of the being in Escherville is still a threat, one with no immediate solutions.

But they have allies out there, they have an AI watching over them, they have the smallest glinting traces of hope. Their loved ones are (hopefully) on board, and even beyond that, there is may be a chance, however small, of restoring their home universes.

Stacy broadcasts to the entire ship when it's all over, when all has been revealed.

||The bodies of the individuals that died today are being prepared for funeral services. A list of their names will be made available, though I can assure you that none are individuals any of you know. The funeral will be on Obs Deck in several days, and will be announced.||

||Those that wish to have their memories of their rescues restored, as proof their worlds are gone, will have a chance to request this after the services, but without grief counselors on board, I strongly recommend against it.||

||In the meantime, all of us must heal and recover from our ordeal. New areas of the ship have been made available, such as the Crew Lounge, and I have opened up the Crew Quarters for use, and cleared out the belongings of--||

Here she falters, sadness creeping into her voice.

||--of my original crew, so that all of you may sleep more comfortably. These quarters fit two people to a room, and have actual beds and sonic showers. Dining will still be provided in the Mess Hall, with periodic days of real food in the Lounge--they must be spaced out until my food stores are replenished with fresh food products.||

After a moment of thought she says: ||And because I think you've suffered enough, fornicative activities are now allowed--however, both parties must stop by the Medbay for a Contraceptive shot or this will not be allowed. These shots will provide protection for six months and do not protect against venereal disease, but all of you, barring several individuals with certain conditions--|| Like those, say, infected with zombie viruses, Steve ||--are currently disease-free.||

||The ship is now open, and the bridge team can relocate back to the Living Areas. The doors will remain open after they leave the bridge. I must now engage in heavy repairs. My AI will not be quite as available as usual. Please, take time to grieve, rest, and have your wounds treated. We will discuss more when everyone has recovered from this ordeal.||

The Defacto Rearguard of Team GTFO hadn't gone too far away from the doors that had separated them from the rest of the team. They were fortunate -- Mei Ling was still unharmed, and the rest of them were of no interest to the zombies, possessing none of the meat that their stumbling attackers found so attractive.

They were going to have to move soon. They could only hold the zombies off for so long without some sort of fortifications, and they were very much without those here. They had a blank expanse of fleshy wall where there had used to be a doorway separating them from the rest of GTFO and multiple hallways teeming with zombies.

The lights were still up and looking just fine. Which meant that they could see the hoards coming for Mei Ling. Fortunately, they seemed to have no objections to sticking together.

[ooc: Newbie Helpers List | Instructions: First, read *HERE*. Then, once you've read the overall plan, post your character into the main thread establishing them as being podpopped, and reacting to the oncoming zombie horde (since there is no Stacy replies to comment to, it will all be one thread, instead of individual threads). This can include fighting and/or fleeing if you want. Eventually, volunteers from Team Left Behind will rush in and save the day. Obviously, since there's no time for it while fighting for your lives against zombies, this podpop won't get the whole ||You have been Chosen|| speech from Stacy, so they'll have to get their answers (and pants) later.]


||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.

--
( And this was the moment everything went to hell )