Who: Elle (Courier Six) and YOU
Where: Anywhere you want, though these are specific locations that'll be popping up: Hydroponics, the Garibah Tree, the Public Bathroom in the City, and a wall near the Level 5 Sleeping Halls teleporter. And, for the sake of narration, the Lucky 38. The Drunken Dragon Tavern will be added later!
When: Any time ranging from shortly after the podpops to the past week or so.
Summary: Elle has been occupying herself by exploring the ship, especially the City. I'm going to set this post up in a bit of a weird way, with the OP being a general exploring post, and then threads for specific locations, just to make things clean and easily organized. Feel free to tag into any of the threads unless it's marked as [CLOSED], and you can start your own thread with Elle set in another location of your choosing if you'd like! These settings are just starting points, in a way.
Warnings: None?

( like a straying baby lamb, with no mammy and no pappy )

Edward sat at an empty table in the mess hall, prodding with a fork at the glob of slop slowly congealing on his edible tray. He was a big eater, sure, and not too picky about most foods (save one), but this?

He let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, sprawling out across the bench. The red cloth of his coat fanned out on both sides of him, slithered down to touch the floor. He hadn't been able to find any of the others, which meant they were still in the pods. At the very least, he'd been assured that Alphonse's soul would be safe. As long as he was in stasis, anyway. That had to be the one bright spot in this nightmare.

Come to think of it, the whole last day had been like being a front-row spectator in an inevitable, slow-motion car crash. Sure, there was stuff here he couldn't explain. And everyone seemed to believe, to varying degrees, the whole Ohm story. But then there was the mention of mysterious meetings and shadowy enemies and the laughable (to him) reassurance that as long as they played by the rules, their universes could be 'restored'.

By who? And how?

He glanced back up at the slop and made a face. At least the water here was normal.

[Ed's open to conversation, but at this point will probably be hostile towards any mentions of previous Edwards on the ship. Fair warning!]

Who: OPEN
Where: Outskirts of the City
Summary: Veronica discover a slice of home out on the outer areas of the city.

( Who says you can't go home? )

The TV screen in La Casa Smize lights up again.

Tyrantmail,

You can't buy class, but you can buy soda!

Fiercely in Love,
Tyrant

The remaining contestants are hustled away to their first photoshoot. The set, unfortunately, has no beautiful backdrops or glamorous outfits for the contestants to wear. Instead, it is a dingy store-room with an empty claw machine. A few stylists mill about, carrying nude-colored spandex bodysuits and setting up the mirrors for the contestants.

Jay Emmanuel rushes up to greet the contestants. "Hello, models! Today we're going to be protesting the commodification of women's bodies by presenting you all as naked and for purchase in a giant claw machine! Now, I know this is your first photoshoot, but it's going to be very. Tricky. Because. It's going to be a group photoshoot! Which means that you're going to be in groups of two, stuffed into that vending machine and doing as many different poses as you can!"

Jay does not seem even slightly aware of the irony of this photoshoot.

"Alright, models, get to work!"

The television in the living room lights up.

Tyrant Mail,

However many models will appear for judgment. However many minus a few will remain in the competition.

Fiercely in love,
Tyrant

The contestants are then led from the mansion to the judging room. The judges sit behind a long counter with a screen behind them to replay the highlights from the runway challenge.

"Welcome-a to Videoland!" tells you an animatronic, rusted and chipping man. "My name is-a Somari the Spaceman! It's-a very good to see you, woohoo, ha ha!!" Next to him a green (also chipped and rusted) fat Hedgehog statue dressed in green and with a leather outfit stands close doing a peace sign. "And I'm his good buddy, Scory the Porcupine! Welcome to Videolang Buddy!"

Ahh Videoland! Popular no less than ten years ago, it has began a recent decline compared to the other parts of Happy Happy Land due to most of their clientele simply growing too old for it and going off to the other parts of the planet. Still waiting for a new deal with a game provider to use their licenses, it becomes older and more jaded, still trying to have the same magic as a while ago, but the dream being long gone. The world is now a dangerous combination of video games bordering bootleg and strange creatures and things that are just the right amount off not to be written as simple copied parodies. Costumed men and women wear the suits of the mascots, and a few pretty girls wearing the Princess Lana, Ruler of Videoland™ costume don't look as bright and cheerful as they should be. Every four hours, there's a Captain N: The Gamemaster show, with the typical theme park overacting and asking kids questions as anagrammatic versions of Mother Brains, Eggplant Wizard & King D'ippo capture her and have to be saved by Rock N' Rollman, Solomon Belmont, Kid Icarus and, of course, Captain N, the Game Master.

Everything seems sort of wrong. Like a marketing gimmick that caught on. The annoying young kids seem to like the show, mind you.

However if you're not here to watch terrible theater productions, the park is divided into six subsections, accessible by a monorail. Well, when the monorail is working anyway (and it is today! LUCKY YOU!) When you arrive you are standing near the Palace of Power, large, impressive (and pink) castle that apparently belongs to Princess Lana.

( KONGOLAND! Where arcades and tropical food reigns. )

( SPACEPIRATE LAND! Your Horror XTREME!!! COME GET YOUR HOROSCOPE. )

( MEGALAND, Futuristic theme part of rides and booths...available TODAY! )

( MOUNT ICARUS....LAND! It's where the kids go while their parents go elsewhere )

( CASTLEVANIALAND! The medieval land of horror, magic and the biggest coaster! )

With all these sections it might take a while! Or you'll just run off in horror to another park and never, ever look back.

Chell was generally not an indecisive person--after all, you couldn't afford to be when you spent the last god-knew-how-long fighting for your life against crazed computers hell bent on stamping you out of existence. She had to admit, though, that her recent waffling was a little ridiculous. Her own sheer stubbornness, though arguably the trait that had kept her alive through the aforementioned attempted murders had become something of a hindrance, especially aboard Stacy, where she might be called to battle at any moment. To put it lightly, she had endured what seemed to be an eternity of toting about an incredibly grating personality sphere because she was too gosh-darned pigheaded to admit that she needed to cart him to Engineering and grant him some form of independence.

And that's where the indecisiveness came in, because there was a very large part of her that was not ready to do such a thing. She knew from experience that granting her robot frenemy any sort of autonomy whatsoever usually ended badly, and there was still a bad taste in her mouth from Lirath's mech suit adventure, to say nothing of their time in Aperture. Chell wasn't entirely sure if she was prepared to be in a situation where she could not monitor him constantly--what if she wasn't there and he got himself plugged into something important?

On the other hand, she recognized the impracticality of keeping him on her person at all times, and knew that the trip down to Engineering would be inevitable. Her arms really, really hurt.

After weighing (ha ha) all her options and speaking to that slightly manic afro girl (who seemed to share similar problems in the "my best friend is an immobile, inanimate object" department), Chell decided it was high time she got Wheatley some limbs...or a jetpack...or something. A consultation with afro-girl and the Engineering department, at the very least, wouldn't hurt.

So there she was, marching down to Engineering and setting Wheatley down on a worktable with a resounding thunk that was obviously meant to draw the attention of anyone in the general vicinity.

Super polite.

[OOC: SO UH marked as open in case any other engineering types (or not-engineering types) want to get in on this and have a free-for-all with some very exciting Aperture technology. VERY. EXCITING.]

Asuka felt terribly alone. The people who'd actually given a damn about her on this stupid ship were long gone - repodded by the stupid ship. Not that she actually care all that much, of course! She didn't need anyone. She had herself, she had a working Unit 02 and that was all she needed. She was still one of the best pilots on the ship. Sure, she had Rogue Squadron and she'd flown in the last engagement (every time she went out, she was terrified), but what the Hell did they care for her?

So she found other ways to keep herself occupied. Away from the others, so she could be by herself. After all, she was the only one she could rely on time after time (even when she was scared). The great Asuka Langley Soryu didn't need anyone.

Of course, the one place on the ship where she could actually go swimming was the Sensoriums (or she could've scoured the city for appropriate facilities, but that would've taken too much effort). In the Sensoriums, she could have an Olympic-sized swimming pool, all to herself. Never mind that all the open space and the echo of her solitary splashing gave the whole room a sense of loneliness and emptiness. That didn't matter to her.

She had to keep herself in shape - running and swimming seemed to be the best options here. Both let her be alone with her thoughts, both were easily doable. And she was good at them. She hauled herself out of the pool, water pooling underneath her feet as she stretched.

Maybe she ought to do a few more laps.

_{[[OOC: Thought I needed to put Asuka out there a bit more, so come bother her! Open to everyone who feels like dropping by.]]}

Several significant data reports were still trickling in, and already Billy's overworked mind knew one thing: this workload was going to be one of his least favorites. Overwhelming, exhausting, sometimes confusing, and with the pressure of time attached as well. Stacy could simply not be relied upon to give the crew a break, and thus they needed to be prepared for a battle like that again. As soon as possible. But how soon was that? Today's meeting's purpose was to make it as soon as possible.

On the board against one wall of the lab, he threw up a starting list of repairs that needed to be made. All the significant weapons and armor that had been turned in, important communications equipment, crew items requiring immediate attention for that person's full functionality, the most often used generic vehicles, and the specialty/personally owned vehicles. That group would be the easiest to select, he hoped.

How easy or difficult this would be would not be fully known until he saw a spread of who was assisting, and how many. Could they complete everything fast enough for the crew's satisfaction? That would be the main worry from here on out.

Billy was almost relieved when they started trickling in. As he waved, not quite as energetically as usual, they might notice one or two signs of the battle. His movements didn't look quite as easy as before, some trace of pain still behind them, and a long bandage now tied around his forehead. Some would look better, some would look worse. He sincerely wished to see more of the former than the latter.

They needed all the healthy help they could get.

Some people might assume that, by the way he still wore his coat like armor, and carried his sword slung across his back, that he was uncomfortable, paranoid, or simply overly concerned about being on this ship. The truth was, he wore those as a matter of course.

Free from the slime-filled cocoons where he had apparently been asleep for the Record knows how long, the Akashic had decided that, rather than harass or bother the people who had clearly been here for some time for a tour, he was going to make his own. With the help of the omnicomm in his hand and a general sense of adventure, Morgan was walking the length and breadth of the traversible areas of the ship, poking into corners and making curious noises at various things.

If it was all terribly unsettling to him, he had no intention of showing that.

[[OOC: Just let me know where you find him!]]

( OOC: As well as a couple days after this log. )

After the failed attempt with Xtreme, at least in her eyes, Hoshi wondered what could be wrong with her unable to sustain the henshin for as long as she could with the other forms. Although, on one of the days where she busied herself around Stacy, she came upon the answer. Of course it had to be that! Her endurance and stamina waned because she went without a good beyblade match in months.

Sure, she trained during the mornings as well as a little bit at night, but without some good old fashioned beyblading, which was high intensity and fast paced all on its' own, she wouldn't be in her tip top shape that she normally would be.

And so, that's what led her to the Sensoriums once more. It wouldn't have the same effect as it would back home, but she would try her best to replicate it.

The walls dissipated for an arena, just like the one she found here on Stacy, but instead of just one opponent, she was up against three beybladers. Then, with a swift movement, she grabbed both her beyblade out of its' pouch and her launcher, setting the two of them up. She stood with her beyblade with the tip pointed up to the ceiling, her legs spread out. After a three second countdown, all of the beybladers released their respective beyblades into the dish, ready to give it their all.

"You can do it, Seraphiel! Show them what for!" she called out, ready to get her game backto where it was normally.

Care to watch or ask what she's doing?

She really wished Stacy would have given her more of a warning, before filling her head full of memories she wasn't sure she was prepared for. She had to excuse herself from a council meeting, apologizing profusely in half-panicked signing.

Kinase was dead. She remembered that now. He wouldn't be waiting in the pods for her when this was all over, he wouldn't kiss her cheek or remind her that she was overreacting (even when she was sure she wasn't). She wouldn't hear his laugh, or roll her eyes when he wore some gaudy, bright-pink shirt, claiming to be the height of Draenic fashion. He had been an idiot who had, somehow, agreed to marry her - first as a joke, then seriously, as someone who loved her. It figured that a man who'd survived the Cataclysm of Azeroth, and the Exodus from Draenor would somehow be unable to survive the Ohm's rampant destruction of everything.

But now he was gone, and she remained. If she'd been able to, Nehaalista would've screamed her frustrations. Her hooves found her pointed to the sensoriums, and she conjured up the home on Azuremyst they'd built and then subsequently hid in when Vaals was born.

Vaals, her little, little Vaals. Vaals was safe. He had to be. He was little and sweet, and she refused to believe that his big eyes, soft hair, and even, gentle voice was taken from her, too. Nehaalista's hooves tore up the half-finished pathway to the house and she threw the door open. Her little boy played on a blanket before several lighting crystals, safe and sound thanks to the illusion of the sensoriums, and somewhere floating in a pile of mucus down in the pod caverns if she were lucky.

Nehaalista picked the little boy up, who protested slightly, and sank into Kinase's chair. She buried her face into Vaals' light-colored hair and breathed shallowly. Why couldn't anything have simple and clean resolutions?

The Tower of High Sorcery still stood with its signs inviting those to come in, the world repeated by a helpful magic mouth. Aibghalien had clearly devoted no time -- or simply had no time -- to undoing that.

The gates stood shut, though. The wizard had not done that.

Somewhere in the depths of the sprawling halls, Aibghalien sat against a wall, one hand pressed to his head, the other to his leg where his robes showed a small bloodstain. He had, thus far, been entirely fortunate to survive so relatively unscathed against a creature which, he was forced to acknowledge, had raw power equal to his own. It did not have access to his magic item collection or his crystals, and its magic seemed slightly archaic -- but these advantages would not last forever. He had to find a way to disperse it, prevent it from restoring itself, before it managed to destroy him.

And of course, he had to do it alone. He'd told others not to come, and (entirely naively) believed they would listen to the half-request, half-command of a potent wizard. He didn't want any other lives risked...

[[OOC: If you'd like to pitch in, please keep it to one thread, but don't worry too much about a posting order!]]

He'd been spending a lot of time in the lab. Maybe too much, but the end results really would be worth it all. He still had to figure out a way to make a certain delivery to a certain pilot, but Stephen had decided that it was past time for him to work on something he wanted to work on.

So at one end of his garage-turned-workshop, there are two Tesla coils sparking merrily, while a helmeted, chain mail-clad Stephen is bent over a guitar with a soldering gun.


What he is doing quickly becomes obvious when he steps back towards the Tesla coils and actually starts to play the guitar.

(That's right, Stephen is putting on something like a concert. Other examples of what he ends up doing can be found here and here. Feel free to drop in on him!)

Another day in the Overlord's Fortress.

Today, Zetta sat in his throne lazily, feet up on the most freaking sweet ottoman in creation, grinding out a few levels of the freaking sweet new game he'd picked up on XaXing (Nuclear Death Apocalypse Extravaganza: The Annihilation of All Mankind: Tactics) on his freaking 99" widescreen TV.

Yeah, he'd gone pretty wild at XaXing, to judge from the various tapestries and banner's now hanging on the walls, the statues positioned in key places around the fortress courtyard, the sapling planted in one corner that visibly distorted time around it, and various and sundry other luxury goods.

Oh yeah, and he apparently had a body. What's up with that?

[[OOC: So, uh, since Zetta's de-age is, as noted, as subtle as the Overlord himself, and we don't want an obvious reveal too soon, it would be appreciated if any characters who wander by not run off to tell lots of important people quite yet. ^.^ ]]

Stacy's voice came over the comm, blaring across the entire ship.

||Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention. All personnel please report to the Observation Deck. Attention, Attention, all personnel...||

The mouth in the main sculpture on Obs Deck opened, revealing a screen with the image of a mottled blue and purple planet, rotating slowly.
( Read more... )

Time for another mission, then.

Compared to some of the other explosions that had rocked the Jedi Temple, more specifically, Aibghalien's lab within, this was decidedly mild. Still, it was an audible rumble that pierced the fourth, illusionary wall of the elf wizard's lab, followed by a rich gust of yeast-scented air.

And then, an amber-colored waterfall of frothy, churning lager came pouring out from Aibghalien's lab.

A pair of heads poked out of the wall as well. Stephen's brows were arched above his goggles, and the elf had a rather satisfied, if stunned, look upon his face.

"Well," Aibghalien said. "That went better than we had expected."

"Yeah," Stephen agreed. "But who's going to clean up the mess?"

"I suspect," the elf said, "that it will either be imbibed, or absorbed."

"Absorbed?!" the Scientist exclaimed, shoving his goggles up to stare at Aibghalien, dumbfounded. "I guess, but...man, I hope Stacy doesn't get drunk."

(OOC: Meet the results of the experiment Aibghalien undertook here.)

 So, she'd gone and passed out and gotten quite a lot of sleep. Since then, she'd been doing her best to catch up in terms of training and preparedness. Apparently there was a new group of people flying things called Mobile Suits (which were basically like Evas, except smaller and not as good) and they had their own group.

Or something.

Asuka wouldn't have wanted to work with them anyway. Unit 02 needed no backup! At least, that was her thought. But it'd been a while since she'd taken it out for a spin (and what had ever happened to that guy who was working on a fusion generator for her). She'd have to look into that. Again. At least she wouldn't have to go through basic.

She adjusted her duty jacket, perched on the shoulder of her Eva in the hangar bay. The entry plug was deployed - out and waiting for her climb into it if she wanted, but the damn thing wasn't ready for that yet. She needed LCL, a whole support network, so many things that she didn't have at the moment. She groused to herself and then headed for the catwalk surrounding the monstrous machine. Maybe she should go poke at her X-Wing instead. 

As the ship was going about its normal business of the day, everything is interrupted when Stacy broadcasts a message to the crew.

||Attention, crew. Your crew mate, Big Zero, has acquired 15 Violations. Therefore, she will now be given Punishment. According to the guidelines in place for Punishment, you are hereby requested to report to the Observation Deck to view the procedure. Though it is not mandatory, it is suggested you attend anyway.||

||It will serve as a reminder that there are consequences to breaking the rules.||

For those brave souls who decide to attend, they'd find Big Zero strung up, dangling from the ceiling of the Obs Deck by her hands, surrounded by a spherical force field.

It was to prevent anyone from...interfering.

[ooc: Warning, this post will contain some rather graphic imagery. Obviously, you don't have to participate in this thread if you don't want to. If your character would ICly go but you personally don't want to know all the nasty details, ping one of the mods and we'll give you the watered down version for your pup to work with.]