Riddick and the Guv had settled in at the base of the steps to Notre Dame. Riddick was sprawled on the bottom three steps casually, holding a tin cup. There was steam rising from it, and from the kettle on the hotplate the Guv had brought along with him. They were both, in fact, drinking something hot from tin cups. Whatever it was, it didn't smell very good. Actually, it smelled pretty terrible.

Riddick had apparently found knitting needles of some kind -- They looked startlingly like bone -- and a rather shabby looking roll of yarn. He was knitting as they chatted, though they weren't actually saying much.

It looked, for all the world, like a "Name the Problems" domestic scene. Two convicts, one knitting, both sipping tea, relaxing at the steps of a famous Cathedral.

They probably had enough tea to share, if anyone dared to try it.

[[OOC: Request one or the other, or we'll pull names out of a hat! :P]]

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.]

And this was the part of the job that Leon knew would eventually grate on him. Meetings. They were necessary, and usually productive, but they were not his thing. Still, it was part of the job now, so as per his post on the comms, he made himself available at the Precinct. His old office belonged to Samus now, so for the time being he made himself comfortable in the fifth floor conference room.

Ba'al could not say he was particularly surprised about having lost the election. He had not been playing his role well enough, not nearly. He had mingled somewhat, yes, and he had put up the face of a pleasant human as thoroughly as possible. But it needed more than that. He should have branched out more, made more connections. The cause of his loss was clear.

That did not make him any less angry about it, however.

He had missed his chance, surrounded by these imbeciles. Perhaps if he had had surer footing here-- perhaps then they would have been able to see who was deserving of the power they were granting to idiots. He doubted most of them would make more than sentimental fools (the only benefit to which was that perhaps he could still manipulate them, to an extent).

Now, he would have to exercise power more indirectly. Subtlety. Subterfuge.

With that, Ba'al was wandering - seemingly aimlessly - throughout the ship. He was not looking for anyone, but the more people he ran into the better.

((ooc: open to anyone, anywhere! Let me know if you want a thread in a particular place or anything?))

One, two, three pull. Pull.

Grunting, the Guv pulled himself out of his chair, and then further up the chain. Hand over hand over hand, the chain attaching the wheelchair to him quickly growing taut, and then pulling it up after him. He'd spent a great deal of time hidden away, altering and customizing that contraption until it was itself a weapon, an extension of his needs, and he wasn't going to leave it behind. Not even in the supposed safety of the Sensoriums. The Guv didn't trust his shipmates that far, any more than he trusted convicts in a prison. Code or no code, law or no law, everyone was looking for a leg up.

Reaching midway up his current length of chain, the Guv looked out over the chamber. It bore a certain resemblance to Crematoria; harsh, unfriendly rock going up and up to a ceiling he could barely make out, chains hanging here, there, and everywhere in a heavy, unforgiving forest. The perfect place to make sure he was still at the peak of his game.

And as a reward, on the far side of the room bubbled and simmered away a genuine, non-holographic pot of slam tea. He just had to get there.

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... )