Apparently, despite the destruction of worlds and the loss of countless lives, the Daligig saw fit to save 221B Baker Street of London. Mind you, it wasn't his and John's version of the flat, but it was a version of the flat, all dressed up in full Victorian-era glory. The furniture was finely made and hand-carved, but not horribly different from what it was in his world, the two chairs facing each other as they should be. Books were scattered all over, though they were hopelessly out of date in regards to modern science. Apparently, the alternate him opted for a pipe over cigarettes and nicotine patches, some other John had a medical practice downstairs, and alternate Mrs. Hudson didn't take as much umbrage with him leaving dummies around hanging from nooses in the kitchen. The union jack pillow was even there on John's chair and there were bullet holes in the wall, only they weren't arranged in a smiley face, they were arranged in the letters VR.

Apparently some alternate version of himself had a bit more respect for royalty than Sherlock did. Or a bit less. Hard to tell.

There was no television, of course, and there was no electricity, only the fireplace, which was currently devoid of fire (though there was some correspondence stabbed into the mantelpiece with a knife) but that wasn't what he missed the most about home, so it didn't matter. What he missed the most was doing what he'd spent the last few hours doing: napping naked in his bed, cocooned in some rather luxurious sheets.

It. Was. Glorious.

In fact, it put him in enough of a good mood to deal with people, so he reached over the edge of his bed for his omnicom, lay there tapping off a message, and fired it off, feeling too comfortable to even realize he hadn't quite been specific enough in his missive to communicate his true intentions, which were to meet the detectives of the Security Team, not any amateurs.

Yawning, he got up to putter around the flat still wrapped in his--"his" bedsheets, looking for the suit jacket he'd cast off in the sitting room, so that he could get dressed properly. What he wasn't expecting was for someone else to be there, which was why he froze in place.

[ooc: Open threads in this are open to any detective types that might respond to Sherlock's post. This is not meant to be an entirely open post, though, it's mean to be open to mystery/detective types or those interested in mysteries and detective work so they can have an meet n' greet.]

The first day had cut the participants by half, though to the meatship's undoubtedly great relief, most of that half had not been culled from their own ranks. Technology and magic together had been combined to heal the wounds of those who had suffered in their first rounds, and those who wished to make the attempt could play with their new powers or toys, to see how much they could adapt to their uses before the next day.

The cameras never stopped following them, never stopped rolling. (Except for the bathroom, but otherwise, don't strut around your bedroom naked.)

The next day dawned bright and clear, bright and clear being the prevailing, enforced weather pattern of the castle's particular biome chunk.

No sooner did the Obs Deck descend to Arena Planet LXIII, and the crew allowed to disembark, than they were met by a veritable cloud swarm of cameras. Sleek, elegant things that might have been living, might have been machines, maybe were even magical... but were definitely nuisances as the swooped around to capture video of the crew at all conceivable angles, close up and far away. Their every move from this point on would be on camera.

In front of a small crowd of retainers stood what appeared to be a great circular orb whose only distinguishing features were a nose, and what appeared to be the most overblown mustache ever, which actually appeared to be supporting that two-foot-diameter orb at shoulder height to a tall man. Then the orb took a couple of steps forward,revealing that no, those were actually just really, really hairy legs. A seam cracked open on the creature, and in a voice loud enough to echo across the broad open plains without any need for amplification, it bellowed, "AND NOW! STRAIGHT FROM THE TRANSMIGRATION NINE VESSEL! OUR NEWEST COMPETITORS! FRESH TO THE STAGE OF BATTLE, BUT NO STRANGERS TO WAR--"

It went on like this for some time.

Under cover of this introduction, a small man that to all appearances seemed to be the love child of Richard Nixon and a particularly aggressive Furby stepped forward, and in a bored businesslike tone recited, "Welcome to the tournament. There will be one battle per day. The arena in which you battle will be determined by random draw. Our medical crew will perform all healing necessary and ensure no deaths so feel free to not hold back. Please refrain from accepting any bribes or favors from on-planet spectators--"

"--ARE YOU READY?!" the orb bellowed even louder than before, completely swamping the smaller man's recitation. "THEN STEP THIS WAY!"

And so saying, the orb and its procession began a clearly well-choreographed procession towards a large, medieval-looking fortress that hung dramatically just on the edge of clear vision. (Conveniently, this procession passed several large advertisements.)

Faffing about on his omnicom had Sherlock mildly entertained for a bit, but it didn't last long. Five minutes into the movies John had brought, the consulting detective had slumped back on his Medbay bed insisting that movies were boring (because everything was boring at the moment) and demanding to be knocked unconscious until he was allowed to leave. When John pointed out that injuring him further was slightly counterproductive in regards to him getting out of Medbay, he went into a world-class sulk.

It wasn't so much that he was bored as the fact he was bored and there was an entire spaceship to go poking and prodding around in. The boredom was multiplied and magnified by the fact that there were things to do, advancements in forensic science (and biology and chemistry...) he could read about and so on.

There could be zombies somewhere! Actual living, breathing zombies! Never mind the part where zombies weren't alive and didn't breathe.

At first, the crime rate--or lack thereof--had had him worried this whole venture would be hopelessly tiresome, but apparently, there was more going on than met the eye. (Zombies!)

After his "your movies are boring" based tantrum, John had been in and out of the Medbay, taking advantage of Sherlock's little fit of petulant disinterest in anything but leaving to go prod around the ship himself.

Nothing to do. The whole ship was out there waiting for Sherlock. And where was that tea he asked for from that random stranger? He'd conveniently kept the biscuits given to him by that other random stranger.

"Zombie strippers. Honestly."

At this point, he was fairly certain John selected one-third of the movies they watched because of the explosions in them, one-third because they involved some sort of historical warfare, and the last one-third because of how much he thought Sherlock was going to yell at the screen. Of course, toss in the ones John watched because the actresses in them were attractive and it messed up all the proportions.

||Attention. Attention. Volunteers are requested for a mission. This mission will require active combat in a controlled environment against other sentient beings as well as fellow crew members. No fatalities are expected. Successful participation may be rewarded with increased personal power. Successful completion will result in increased resources for crew usage. Volunteers report to the Observation Deck.||

( For those that choose to answer... )

With the events that had transpired on the ship, Rachel had really felt one thing hit home among everything that had happened: not being able to morph when there was a danger that big? Really, really sucked.

Of course she had fought anyway. Like hell would she let a lack of abilities stop her from getting in the face of bad guys trying to pull one over on them. But without morphing? It had been a lot harder. And she wasn't about to let that happen again.

That's why Rachel had set up in the Sensoriums, calling up a training ground and a selection of perfect replicas of weapons from the armoury. She wouldn't let herself be defenceless again.

||Attention, Attention. The following personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. The following personnel please report to the Observation Deck.
( A sweet little trip to Gummiring begins )
It was a nice, fluffy planet with a nice, fluffy name. Bound to be as nice as Happy Happy Fun World, right?

Simon Tam was utterly, completely, and irrevocably lost.

It wasn't as if the day started out any differently than all of the others - breakfast with the crew, arguing with Jayne, trying to talk Mal out of some job that he wanted to use River as bait for, trying to tell Kaylee why it was a bad idea in the first place, and then finally ending up in the cargo bay as Inara tried to play mediator. But after that? He couldn't quite figure out what happened. He remembered something green and strangely organic... humidity pressing in on him from all sides... then darkness again...

And now he was standing in a hall (was it pulsing?), with no idea how he got there, where anyone was, and absolutely no idea which direction to go in.

"Tain xiode... I've got to be dreaming."

That was a perfect explanation. Completely logical, of course.

Since living in the new castle with Ruffnut, Mindy had done her best to maintain upkeep, even "borrowing" a few things from the wreckage of Grand Central to spruce up the place. It helped, especially since the events of the homecoming, to keep her head busy. On the one hand, yes, dad had appeared: he wasn't dead, he was proud to know they won, and for just a little bit? She got to be a little girl again, to crack wise with her dad, to show him how far she'd gotten.

But then he was gone again, and the new pod pop didn't bring him out. She shouldn't have hoped for it, but she had, a little. Once that was a no go though, she was either training or helping Ruffnut patch up some of the frayed tapestries or fix up carpeting or overall making sure there were no holes for them to fall through anywhere. It had been good, but even Ruffnut had sort of side stepped asking her about dad. It was something she appreciated: Mindy wasn't known for easily delving into her feelings.

This naturally led to another thing on her mind: what had happened on the mission, where the Castle gun shootout had almost taken her out- SHOULD have, if it was anyone else. She had severely underestimated what she could do: the way she;d moved, the accuracy in each shot, the sheer carnage: that was akin to a limit break.

And now, she wanted to control it.

She emptied herself of all thought: that was how a fight in the dark was, if you had no edge. There were only a few precious seconds to gather your mind, and then you opened your eyes and all hell broke loose. Your eyes and your hands had to work in tandem then, and you pulled back and took out people one by one until you got the job done or you were dead.

Like now: it was those gun slingers from the castle, and she started with ten at first, taking them out easily. The background was the saloon again, only she made it bigger to accomdate the increase in shooters.She cursed to herself (it was too quick!) then brought the number to fifteen, then twenty.

Each took less time, and Hit Girl nodded: she HAD gotten better. She wasn't even using Zetta's gun or her artifact, and she was still taking these bastards down.

"All right: switch it to forty, and place them all over the bar."

Ok. GO.

Doc didn't exactly have visitors to his room often but neither did he have very many possessions cluttering up his space so waiting for Jaime to come down to meet him didn't involve much neatening. It did involve getting out some of his precious stockpile of real snacks, though.

It seemed like a good idea given the kind of conversation he suspected he was about to have. People with a lot on their minds had a lot to say and that often involved getting hungry. Deep conversations were just best done with snacks on hand.

He found himself waiting in the doorway by the time Jaime appeared in the hall, giving him a wan smiled through the mask and a relaxed wave hello.

"Hey there."

Jeez, the kid really did look rough. He had the air of a man who couldn't sleep without being plauged by nightmares...

"Come on in."

After the battle, the warriors' task was over. Their job, for now, was to rest and recover for the time being.

The healers' job, on the other hand, was far from over. Some exhausted from the battle, others rotating in, they took to their bay and continued the process of treating the wounded. Some patients were free to leave in a few minutes, while others would have some time (or quite some time) on the cots. Their mission: relax. Stay as still as possible.

Unfortunately, the temptation of so many familiar faces alive and about would ultimately prove to be too great. Keeping track of this group was going to be a third task all its own.

[this is a free for all for all your injured! Have them socialize, be thorns in the medics' side, try to escape, or bring the medics together for some action. Just note in your post if you'd like a medic to visit your character---if not, it's time for a chat!]

The City didn't have weather as most people knew it, but it was nonetheless a beautiful day - warm weather with a nice breeze, Stacy's sun-equivalent shining in the sky... almost as if it was reflecting the emotions of at least one of the ship's crew. In the middle of the Park, someone had set up a little white lattice archway amongst the hedgerows, decorated with ivy and roses and lilies that looked remarkably real (if they were, in fact, synthetic). In front of the arch were several rows of white chairs, more than enough for anyone who cared to show up.

It was a beautiful day for a wedding.

And frankly, Nanoha needed it. After the chaos and confusion; the rage and terror on Galilee... she didn't think she could ever forget that horrible sense of loss and emptiness when she'd thought that Fate was gone, if only for a day or so. But this would go a long way toward exorcising those demons - a day that she'd dreamed of for years.

Of course, she couldn't go greet anyone yet. She was in her wedding dress, after all! These things needed to be proper.

(ooc: Tag the respective subthreads, please! Mingling is highly encouraged.)

Medical Bay had a habit of being busy, and upon the return of some of its members (including the head of Medical Bay) from Galilee, things only got busier. Most the tech needed to be pieced out, but some of it was usable. Discussion of making those small technologies replicable and training people in Med Bay in how to use them was only one topic on anyone's mind.

After all, there'd been a Pod Pop in the interim, which could mean more people coming into the Medical Bay. Not to mention, discussing ideas of how to work better as a group, in light of events on Galilee.

[ ooc: Log's open to mingling for medical workers or those interested in learning; it will have one subthread designated for nursing training with Rory, another for those wanting to make IC connections for further training, and one for general discussion of things those working in Med Bay may want to see. ]

The Maingate Hotel was pretty extravagant, and an entire section of it had been eked out for the crew's use during their stay. They had several suites, three communal areas, a conference room, their own kitchen with a chef on call if they required her.

They were all teleported from the main teleport pad of the hotel into the conference room, which was a large enough room to be able to hold a group their size and had plenty of chairs arranged in a circular pattern so they could mostly all face each other or whoever was in the middle of the room.

Everyone had to settle down so they were all able to talk, and the meeting itself would have to be carefully controlled so they wouldn't all talk over each other. But they were up for the task, right?

[ooc: Guardian Setup, General Mingling, Clone Checkup, Newbie Briefing, General Briefing, More Mingling, Back to the Meeting, and The Idea Guy sections are open. Backup characters introduced to the plot can join in the mingling subthreads if they want. The opening of new subthreads will be announced here and the ooc. Please read the linked OOC post for a plot timeline.]

The trip down was uneventful. The view was gorgeous when the viewing window shields were raised again when they were through the atmosphere, especially as they passed down to Megalopolis, the simply-named giant city that was this world's capital. To the Earthlings there, the continents of this world would look vastly familiar, but that didn't mean anything, did it?

Eventually the sparkling city spires of the mega-city, interspersed with flying traffic, rose up to meet them, and Obs Deck, attached by its massive shielded umbilical cord, deposited them at the Council's private spaceport. It retreated back up to Stacy after they'd disembarked.

This world was a gorgeous world, that much they could likely tell while standing there on the landing pad, looking at the rounded curves of the beautifully designed spaceport. Buildings rose up above them in shades of white, paneled with multi-colored glass, in creative architectural designs. The air traffic weaved neatly in endless lines between buildings, and the overcast sky was in shades of orange and pink, with occasional slips of a bright blue peeking through.

The Council of Five was waiting for them in person, clearly glad to see them all, dressed in resplendent clothing.

"Welcome to the Megalopolis, our capital city, and welcome to Galilee. We are the Council of Five, and we're honored by your presence."

[ooc: The first subthread is now open. They have split into groups! All subthreads are now open! Please do not set up new subthreads. The plot-runners will set them up as needed as we go.]

So, the hostages had been rescued successfully and were recovering. The crew members affected by the clock were back to their proper age.

Sherry was back to her proper age. Something which was both a great relief and tremendously heartbreaking at the same time. He was glad she was back to being his little linefacer, but getting a chance to see her when she was so small, during all the years of her life that he hadn't been a part of.

At least he took plenty of pictures.

Though, while a couple of problems were solved, there were still plenty more to deal with. The map; whether or not the GIA set them up at NiSaris; the Ohm; replacing repodded personnel... Though he was taking a break from that now. Or was trying to, at least. Not an easy thing to do with a ton of stuff weighing on his mind.

To help clear his mind, he went down to the City (which reminded him, at some point, he needed suggest to the Council that they actually give the City a name), and at the moment was hanging upside down from a tall fence doing one sit up after another. He wasn't out of shape, still barely having an ounce of fat on him, and by no means rusty, but the rescue mission had made him realize he had been out of the field and behind a desk for too long. Being some distant, hands off executive wasn't his style. And whatever was about to come their way next, he'd need to be at his best to help.

Teyr only had two holidays. Understandable, given the fact that it was only a few years old, and draconians themselves hadn't even been around for five decades yet. They were still working on making their place in the world.

Well, they had been.

Kang was doing his best to not dwell on that thought as he walked through a recreation of one of the city's holidays. It was the Day of Hope, the anniversary of the day when his regiment had found and hatched the first females during the Summer of Chaos. The streets were packed with draconians of every type (children were very rare, and none looked older than a human two-year-old), as well as a few humans and even a dwarf or two. There were booths set up with food, alcohol, and crafts, as well as music being played; as new as draconians were, they did have many things unique just to them, and some of the more thoughtful ones used the opportunity to celebrate that fact.

There were areas that were set up for displays of athletics and martial abilities, and even a handful of booths with carnival-like games. One, run by a baaz, involved trying to launch a stuffed minotaur doll into dragon-shaped cups floating in a tub of water with a miniature catapult. The reward was a free flagon of hard cider. A kapak was profiting off of something that looked remarkably similar to a modern rope ladder game, though it was steeper and didn't have any padding on the ground.

Outside the city walls, there were several teams of draconians constructing trebuchets, each with a pile of pumpkins. The Corps of Engineers had gotten drunk the year before and decided to see who could make one that'd launch a pumpkin the highest and farthest, and all agreed that they needed to make it a yearly tradition. One of the teams was comprised solely of sivaks, and a particularly tall one, at just a few inches shy of nine feet, shouted orders.

He smiled, indulging in the memory, and sent a quick message to Eva. He didn't care if others showed up and decided to join in the celebration, but he had specifically invited her, once before.

[OOC: When I say rare, I mean like only about 100-110 children compared to at least 5,000 adults, and it's impossible to tell the sexes apart by sight unless you know what to look for. There's only 20 adult females anyways. Only sivaks can fly, and they don't really do much of that; auraks (gold scales) don't even have wings. They're also the most rare kind. Draconian heights range from 5' (baaz) to about 9' (sivaks), and the average height is about 7'.

This is a completely medieval setting, so if you're not sure about something, feel free to ask me. Also, if you are an attractive woman, you are going to get a few leers, and possibly comments from some of the draconians. Sorry, ladies. Anybody of a race that is not human, elven or dwarven is going to get some curious looks, too.

Infodump out of the way, it's open!]

Time was still moving forward. Yet looking at Lash you could never guess that, as each day did not increase her age by one, but continued to slowly recede into the past, the body around the massive hair growing smaller each day. And with a younger age came a much greater degree of immaturity and a certain disregard for the rules, even if compared to some of the other children on board, she still had her wits and mind. Perhaps a little too smart for her age, it might be argued.

A very, very dangerous combination, then, when she realized how bored a single wunderkind was, and how many other people on the ship were not. Surely, she thought, they could be made to do things for her own amusement! Lash was the six year old wunderkind prodigy, she demanded to be entertained! Her backpack filled with many little trinkets she had gathered (perhaps stolen from where they should have been found) and she carefully inched around the ship in relative silence, waiting to spot a poor soul or two. Maybe even children her age! Tee hee, imagine how fun it would be to spray them with a water gun, or to glue their hands, or even tie their shoelaces together! At least she wasn't thinking about ways of blowing them up. They should be thankful for that.

Tiptoeing to the next person, she peered from her hiding spot...

[OOC - You want your character to get pranked? Simply reply here with where they were currently and how much pranking you're fine with. Lash is moving all around the ship and this can happen over the course of several days. Levels are gentle, medium, and cruel. There might be other characters involved in the pranking. Don't worry, Lash isn't never going to destroy anything important to your characters, just causing trouble and doing jokes a six year old would likely do. Levels are just for how much leeway we have. Feel free to just talk to her/scold her too!]

((PLOT POST! READ IT!))

Stacy's voice rang out through the corridors of the ship, announcing that a message had been received and would be played on the Obs Deck momentarily.

The message was patched through a few minutes later, shown on a holographic screen. It was shot in very poor video, from a very old communicator frequency.

( A plea for help. )

The hallway just outside the med-bay was a pretty convenient place to be dropped. Doc would have wanted to go there anyway given the state he was in when GLaDOS finally spit him out, still smoking, in an unceremonious heap on the floor. He sat up slowly, looking himself over, patting a few places to be sure they were out before finally slumping against the wall opposite the one he'd fallen through, a slightly hysteric grin on his face beneath the mask. After a moment's stunned silence he began to laugh. "Hah...haha.... ROBOTS CAN'T CATCH YOU IF YOU'RE ON FIRE EITHER!!!" he finally shouted, throwing his arms up over his head in victory and then promptly flipping the bird at the wall. "SUCK ON THAT ANGRY TESTING LADY!"