Of all things, Ian hadn't been expected to be bested by a tree. That it was a tree that moved without the wind should have given him a clue, but, well, it was a tree. He'd got too close, it got a good hit in, he'd landed awkwardly and now he couldn't walk.

It was only his ankle and, feeling embarrassed about the whole thing, he'd intended to just hobble home. Except that it did really hurt. So halfway there he found the nearest teleport and ended up in the medbay.

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.

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.

Sherlock was feeling better now and there was plenty of ship to see. Some on the ship might have been treated to the sight of him walking through the city, popping around corners and staring off at the nearby buildings as if trying to figure out angles of visibility, or paying unusual attention to the mud and the cobblestones in some places. He'd made a point to avoid and ignore most of the people he'd come across while doing it, however. Distractions.

He'd also tried to catch up on his reading--his knowledge base was severely lacking in the face of the new technology here, and the technology that might be found planetside.

But one couldn't spend all day reading and exploring and he and John had months of lost time to make up for. After spending a year and a half of being nearly inseparable, their time apart had taken its toll on both men, especially because of the less-than-favorable conditions it occurred under.

That was why Sherlock had taken time away from his exploration to spend more time with John. This evening, the two of them were parked in one of the Media rooms, one of the larger ones that they'd staked out for themselves. Seated comfortably next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, their feet up on little meat-ottomans, they were sitting there watching movies, all of them chosen by John and most likely selected with the specific purpose of getting Sherlock shouting at the screen.

Specifically things like: "Nooo! You imbecile! He's behind the door--who goes into a room that possibly has a killer hiding in it and doesn't check behind the door?"

If people actually joined them to watch, they weren't going to chase them out.

[ooc: GO!]

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.

Who: Ian Chesterton and Tim Drake
Where: Outside the Drunken Dragon
Summary: Talking about Youth Services
Warnings: None

There's always something important about the local pub and one on a spaceship was no exception. Although today Ian was sitting outside watching the world go by and holding a glass of orange juice, which he occasionally sipped from. He wanted to be drinking something far stronger, but was trying to set a good example.

|| Attention, crew, Attention. All personnel who wish to attend the funeral of Howard Bassem and Cedric Diggory, please report to the Observation Deck. ||

Once again, the Observation Deck is prepared for a sending-off of the dead. A hard pod containing Howard's body sits in the center of the room, with a much smaller pod containing Cedric's wand sitting beside it. The observation window is open, showing the attending crew a stunning view of a nearby fiery red star: the final resting place of the two fallen crew members.

Before the launch, though, there are goodbyes to be said.

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.)

If one were to enter one of the Sensoriums today, they may walk in on a surprising sight. They will come across a wide room, with a ring-like device at the end, a stain-glass window behind it, depicting a night's sky. To those who know it, this device is a Stargate.

The room is the embarkation room of the lost City of the Ancients; Atlantis. It's staircases leading up to the control room, and to a balcony looking out over the oceans. It's on this balcony that one may see a figure leaning on a railing, staring out to sea, the simulated breeze blowing in his hair.

This figure is Dr. Carson Beckett, and the man seems a bit down as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Dare you disturb the peaceful tranquility of this scene?

Howard made sure they arrive to Med Bay early, not just because he doesn't want to be late but because if he impresses on Orc to hurry up, Orc might not have time to get completely smashed before they do this thing. Howard would rather not deal with blackout-drunk Orc, but at the same time he doesn't want Orc sober enough to be obstinate or miserable, so they did a stop at the beer tree before coming here.

He invited Barbara and Ian because they were very game for the food excursion, despite is propensity for total revulsion. He invited Anwei because he wants to be close with her again, at least, as close as he gets to people who aren't Orc. And because she brings a new perspective to Stacy, one that's been proven to be more viable than he presumed.

He wanders through the hospital beds and sets up the coffee pot. No reason not to go into a brand spanking new adventure caffeinated. The Medical Bay is large enough that meeting here doesn't even register on the people working actual shifts.

"You want coffee?" He fills up a mug for himself and glances over at Orc. He hopes they aren't waiting long enough for Orc to get impatient or lose interest.

The rest of the crew assembled on the Observation Deck to meet the latest editions to their numbers.

Several people are set up near the doors to provide the new people with omnicomms and comm rings. They are also told they must read information about their current situation and a survival guide with their new omnicomm. New crewmates might see a tall dragonish guy with wings (but don't call him that), a large afro attached to a smaller girl, and talking ponies 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. But thankfully this time, there's a system that was set up to aid the new crew members with a few more experienced ones.

[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. Big brother/sister, there will be a thread for you as well!]

Ian had seen pictures of the spacesuits the astronauts and cosmonauts wore to go into space, but for all the space travel he'd done himself, had never actually worn one. But then this one didn't look anything like those. It didn't seem like it was enough somehow - just a plant suit between him and oxygen starvation. But he was going to have to wear it if he wanted to understand more about how Stacy worked, and he did.

It was just as well he had John with him. "Do you think this suit is enough?" he asked John, glad he wasn't anywhere near a mirror.

Harry was gone. He’d been repodded not long after their last conversation. That hadn’t gone well. After hearing the truth behind his brother’s death, Sirius had put as much space between him and everyone else as possible. If he’d known that would be the last time he would see Harry…

Harry was still alive but his absence stung. Sirius had no reason to pretend he was all right anymore. He’d put on a brave face for his godson, told himself he had to be strong for him. Now that he was gone what did it matter?

After sulking isolating himself for days there was only one logical way to deal with his grief. Drink as much as humanly possible and then drink some more. And if he could find other drugs on this planet that was all the better.

It didn’t take him long to find a bar. Most of the drinks were designed for humans (although there were a fair number for the Kanil and Helians, as well as other races that frequently visited) but Sirius recognized none of them. And as far as he could tell, they all tasted awful. It seemed some tastes didn’t translate across worlds. He didn’t care.

He's got his passport.

He's also got a fake birth certificate, a fake ID card, a fake driver's license and insurance card, and hopes for a brand new life. And he has the same for Orc. That and a suitcase for each of them.

He has to leave the cats. That is, he thinks, the only downfall to the planet. You can't import live things, and he doesn't know how to smuggle them in, so he's going to entrust them to Cedric. Between that and the food stash, the knowledge that he's leaving things behind, things that he'll never get back, hangs heavy on his mind.

He's leaving people behind too. He can't forget that. He wanders through the streets of Agrestic with his new papers and his suitcase looking for the people he wants to say goodbye to before he and Orc escape this war forever. He's not even thinking about what he's going to say to them, hoping that somehow the magic words will appear on his tongue. But he has to say goodbye before he goes.

Away from the Daligig. Away from Stacy. Away from missions and more importantly, away from the threat of the FAYZ. Scared and sad as he is, there is a little skip in his step.

[OOC: he's looking for his closer CR, so new people may approach him but he'll probably brush them off. If your character hasn't met Howard and would like to thread with me drop me a line and I'll set up something new!]

( The ship stops on the planet Agrestic, a Jupiter-sized behemoth in the galaxy. )

As Stacy's shuttles bring the crew down, they're treated to the sights of massive mountains to dwarf even the mightiest Earth mountain range and golden, green and purple grain fields that take up more space than some entire civilizations have managed to colonize. The shuttles finally settle at the primary port city, Rura, which is ideally situated near and equidistant to a sprawling ocean, the base of a mountain range and a swath of farmland.

The people of Agrestic, including humans, Helians, Kanil, and plenty of other races, are for the most part hard at work and rushing from place to place. Very few pay much attention to Stacy's shuttles, as travelers stopping at this city and incredibly commonplace. Those that aren't working are relaxing, unencumbered by technological gadgets - while the technology here is very advanced, it seems primarily used to aid workers in their duties, and not for leisure. Fresh produce brought into the market is scanned by tiny mechanical beetles that inspect each piece for defects, but the children are more likely to be playing with sticks and rocks than anything else.

The crew exits the shuttles to find themselves at a large air-port like building, which opens up to a farmer's market and a strip of restaurants. As they exit the shuttles, some of the human port workers apologize for any inconvenience.

"We're sorry you couldn't bring the whole ship down, but the Truce specifically forbids Daligig to enter our airspace. You're lucky we managed to get clearance for shuttles of Daligig make to come in!" they say, before rushing off to help the next arrivals.

To return to the ship, a crew member may enter a shuttle and the autopilot will zip them back up to Stacy's underbelly. The crew may make as many trips back and forth as they like.

[OOC: This post itself will be for interactions with NPCs. Please do not set up subthreads in this post unless you are an NPCer. If you would like to create a new location on Agrestic, or do an open/closed log on the shore leave, please set up your own log. This will make it easier for our NPCers to know where they're needed.]

Who: Barbara and Anyone
Where: The Media Library and possible roaming
Summary: Research, tea, discussion and all that jazz. Feel free to simply come and bug her.
Warnings: None

After watching the Daligig slaughter the previous crew twice, Barbara went in search of any kind of material on the Daligig, Stacey, pod-popping and the crews which had traveled on Stacey. She didn't expect to find much more than what GLaDOS had told her but it was worth a look. Especially with all this talk of rebellion and distrust.

So, in a corner of the Media Library Barbara sat with piles books, stacks of visual recordings and audio recordings, plus pot of tea which had been sitting empty for a while. She was lost in her own world, memorising what she could and trying to gain a better picture of the ship, the war and everything else which could be considered relevant.

It's shaping up to be another average day on the Transmigration 9. Crew members are going about their business as usual and all is (to most appearances, at least) about as "well" as things ever are on the ship.

Some crew members are going to be stopped out of the blue by impact with a force field.

"Attention Crewmen: You have been chosen to participate in an experiment!" GLaDOS's voice informs. They're not alone, someone else that was nearby is also caught within the same narrow radius. "Participation is mandatory. Please try to relax and enjoy the experience, as this will improve the quality of the test results."

Clearly this is going to be a wonderful day for science.

"You and your new scientific partner are now on a date," GLaDOS goes on. "As it would be detrimental to our study of the date experience if you were to be separated, you must remain close to your partner for the duration of the experiment. This will be enforced with the Transmigration 9 Crewman Containment Field. Prolonged exposure to the Transmigration 9 Crewman Containment Field may have unexpected side-effects. While any side-effects encountered will be documented and your desire to offer yourself to science is commendable, it is not a necessary part of this experiment."

"You will be informed when the test has been completed. We would like to thank you in advance for your full cooperation in the experiment and failure to attempt to foil it in any way."

"The experiment has begun, so you may begin dating."

( OOC Notes Below Cut! )

When Orc woke up it took him five minutes before he had his first thought.

Dry.

His craggy lips felt entirely too dry. In fact his mouth, throat, his skin felt like he'd been sand blasted and thrown into the desert. The only moisture that he was aware of came when he slowly rose from the table to find a string of drool coming off his lower lip to a puddle on the table. Half of it was on his cheek, but he couldn't feel that.

His head began to pound as another powerful hangover settled in. How long had he been in this bar? He'd lost track of time.

That was fine, it was all fine. There was more beer here. He could wash away the pain in his head and subsequent painful thoughts. All he had to do was get himself out of the booth and over to the bar.

...

That might take more effort. He couldn't seem to will his heavy body to do more then sit up just yet. Days spent in a drunken stupor had caught up with him and were spinning his stomach like a blender full of misery and yuk.

There's a forest setting in the Sensoriums today, made of thick deciduous trees, high rocks, and bits of ruined stone buildings. It's autumn, and though the trees haven't yet lost all their leaves, many already litter the ground, making stealthy movement near-impossible.

There's a row of paintball rifles spread out near the entrance to the Sensoriums.

ARE YOU A BAD ENOUGH DUDE TO SURVIVE MEATSHIP PAINTBALL?

[Open to all, have fun! CRUSH YOUR ENEMIES. Threadjacking is A-OK]

After the 'bitching about Stacy' session finally reached a head, Sakura and Howard decided to actually do something about all the questions they had about their spacefaring fleshy home. Granted, they couldn't really find anything out about the Ohm on their own, and the Daligig were Right Out, so that left exploring the ship itself.

Time for them to find out what it is that they're putting in their bodies.

They drew on a few people they trust, or at least have figured out well enough to not distrust (more than they usually do), and now they're gathered at the mess hall at some awkward hour when no one is there to eat. They've brought Kanoe Zouichi (specialties: stuff going boom and wrangling Howard into being cooperative) and Ian Chesterton (specialties: hot cocoa, also science). And Ian's brought Barbara Wright (specialties: ??? and pissing Howard off).

Howard's tucking away at a tray of slop, figuring that if they're going to find anything that puts them off eating food forever, he might as well enjoy sweet, delicious ignorance now.