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[She sounds hesitant and feels stupid even asking about this.] Anyone here an expert in...weird stuff? [She will not say 'magic'.]
Yellow alert, yellow alert! All hands to battle stations!
[After a somewhat peaceful rest, the fleet spooled up its FTL engines and jumped. But moments later, they were dragged out of subspace and the fleet found itself in between two other fleets! Relatively, in front of the fleet was a new planet, mostly brown and arid in appearance.
On the one side was an extremely large number of ships that seemed to be made of a beehive like material. The armor looked cheap and judging from the debris, it might be a good assessment.
On the other side was another fleet. Smaller but looking all the more ferocious with it's purple and red paint scheme. Massively over-sized guns bristled from almost every available port, leaving no uncovered surface. Despite the raggedy appearance of the other fleet, a few ships from this portion seemed out of commission to.
Both fleets paused at entrance of the new intruder and firing ceased.
Shortly after, an open message was played across all frequencies. It was voice only but it was bubbly and difficult to understand completely.]
Saviors, please rescue us from those that wish to destroy our way of life!
[Almost instantly in response was a gruff voice.]
What is there to rescue? All that is here belongs to Palguda Confederation.
[Then a third voice decided to interrupt here too with an odd tinge that sounded almost mechanical but close enough to organic to be weird.]
The Archive formally disagrees. That which lies here has belonged to our people for longer than both of your races have existed.
[The arguing continues, escalating before it cuts off, replaced by an image of the Fleet Admiral rubbing his face. The crisis seemed big enough that he would have to take charge.]
I don't think we can leave these people alone. But before we can do anything, we're going to need intel and a solid line of communication without this....bickering. Who's up to the task?
[After a somewhat peaceful rest, the fleet spooled up its FTL engines and jumped. But moments later, they were dragged out of subspace and the fleet found itself in between two other fleets! Relatively, in front of the fleet was a new planet, mostly brown and arid in appearance.
On the one side was an extremely large number of ships that seemed to be made of a beehive like material. The armor looked cheap and judging from the debris, it might be a good assessment.
On the other side was another fleet. Smaller but looking all the more ferocious with it's purple and red paint scheme. Massively over-sized guns bristled from almost every available port, leaving no uncovered surface. Despite the raggedy appearance of the other fleet, a few ships from this portion seemed out of commission to.
Both fleets paused at entrance of the new intruder and firing ceased.
Shortly after, an open message was played across all frequencies. It was voice only but it was bubbly and difficult to understand completely.]
Saviors, please rescue us from those that wish to destroy our way of life!
[Almost instantly in response was a gruff voice.]
What is there to rescue? All that is here belongs to Palguda Confederation.
[Then a third voice decided to interrupt here too with an odd tinge that sounded almost mechanical but close enough to organic to be weird.]
The Archive formally disagrees. That which lies here has belonged to our people for longer than both of your races have existed.
[The arguing continues, escalating before it cuts off, replaced by an image of the Fleet Admiral rubbing his face. The crisis seemed big enough that he would have to take charge.]
I don't think we can leave these people alone. But before we can do anything, we're going to need intel and a solid line of communication without this....bickering. Who's up to the task?
I don't tend to trust people who say they're doing sierra for my own good. How bout you?
[Backdated to before Miscun]
Since she was given a personal shield by some grateful groundies (as she was beginning to call the hapless inhabitants of the worlds the fleet kept stopping by and helping out), Cassie had been itching to try this. It only took some tinkering and buying, and she could take care of the questions she was burning to answer.
She was at the range. More specifically she was on the range. Right where you're not supposed to be. Though with a lane to herself. Small comfort as she had a variety of types of small arms pointed at her and was setting them off by remote control. As each projectile hit the shield, there was a glimmering as it was stopped, suspended in midair and dropped to the ground. She laughed when a neat row of bullets from her Stoner rifle stitched the air in front of her, which vibrate and pulsed with the shield's efforts at slowing then stopping them.
Better to know it here if it was gonna fail her, where the hospital was closeby, than in the field, she reasoned, though that could have just been her thrillseeking tendencies talking.
Since she was given a personal shield by some grateful groundies (as she was beginning to call the hapless inhabitants of the worlds the fleet kept stopping by and helping out), Cassie had been itching to try this. It only took some tinkering and buying, and she could take care of the questions she was burning to answer.
She was at the range. More specifically she was on the range. Right where you're not supposed to be. Though with a lane to herself. Small comfort as she had a variety of types of small arms pointed at her and was setting them off by remote control. As each projectile hit the shield, there was a glimmering as it was stopped, suspended in midair and dropped to the ground. She laughed when a neat row of bullets from her Stoner rifle stitched the air in front of her, which vibrate and pulsed with the shield's efforts at slowing then stopping them.
Better to know it here if it was gonna fail her, where the hospital was closeby, than in the field, she reasoned, though that could have just been her thrillseeking tendencies talking.
◾ Tags:
2014-05-23 22:18![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
totallytrustworthy
totallytrustworthyWho: Chloe Frazer and YOU???
Where: Teuberg City - various
When: 22st, 23rd
Warnings: None aside from the usual brand of stupidity
( Thieves are never the best tailors... )
Where: Teuberg City - various
When: 22st, 23rd
Warnings: None aside from the usual brand of stupidity
( Thieves are never the best tailors... )
Who: The Sub-Fleet, Pirates
Where: The Domed City of Terabel
When: Afternoon, Majo 11th
Warnings: Space Violence
It takes a certain kind of someone to volunteer to defend a people they don't know, in a city they've never seen. Brave souls or perhaps just lovers of violence. Either way, the shuttles containing both the security forces to fight off the pirates and the science teams land safely, escorted by a few starfighters.
Fortunately, the people of Terabel breathe oxygen. Unfortunately, their entire city is designed for a race with wings. Large doors and open walls don't offer much cover, stairways or ladders are practically non-existent, and elevators just plain don't exist. Thankfully, the Fleet comes prepared for such situations. Everyone, even the Cybertronians, are issued jetpacks to get around comfortably, and grapnel guns for emergency purposes.
When they get a good view of the city, it's clear that the space pirates have already gotten started on their raid. Smoke can be seen cropping up as the looters burn whatever they can't use. From the sounds of things, they're being rather liberal with their explosives. The defenders will have to act quick if they want the Domed City to still resemble a city before the day is done! It's possible that some of the unthawed natives are still alive, but with every second that ticks by, that possibility diminishes.
For the science team, with or without the aid of the natives, their mission is to take stock of the workings of the city to find anything at all that could help with halting the city's solar swan dive.
Where: The Domed City of Terabel
When: Afternoon, Majo 11th
Warnings: Space Violence
It takes a certain kind of someone to volunteer to defend a people they don't know, in a city they've never seen. Brave souls or perhaps just lovers of violence. Either way, the shuttles containing both the security forces to fight off the pirates and the science teams land safely, escorted by a few starfighters.
Fortunately, the people of Terabel breathe oxygen. Unfortunately, their entire city is designed for a race with wings. Large doors and open walls don't offer much cover, stairways or ladders are practically non-existent, and elevators just plain don't exist. Thankfully, the Fleet comes prepared for such situations. Everyone, even the Cybertronians, are issued jetpacks to get around comfortably, and grapnel guns for emergency purposes.
When they get a good view of the city, it's clear that the space pirates have already gotten started on their raid. Smoke can be seen cropping up as the looters burn whatever they can't use. From the sounds of things, they're being rather liberal with their explosives. The defenders will have to act quick if they want the Domed City to still resemble a city before the day is done! It's possible that some of the unthawed natives are still alive, but with every second that ticks by, that possibility diminishes.
For the science team, with or without the aid of the natives, their mission is to take stock of the workings of the city to find anything at all that could help with halting the city's solar swan dive.
2014-05-05 00:26alittlesweptup
alittlesweptupWho: Charlie Cutter & YOU!
Where: Various
When: Catch-all from the 1st through the 8th.
Warnings: High likelihood of salty language, will update if necessary.
[Quark's]
Where there are sporting events, there's a simulcast to be found. Where there's sporting simulcasts in even semi-proximity of gambling tables, there's money to be made.
Charlie knows approximately jack all about approximately ninety percent of the games held in the Colliseum and beyond, but this is his element and he's a damn quick study when he likes to be. In this case - living off the generosity of the Fleet for this his second month and desperately trying to avoid considering gainful employment for as long as he's able -- Well, in this case he's got the motivation to learn all the finagling rules of space games and setting up shop at the end of the bar at Quark's seems as good a place as any to take in a few drinks, some chips and spend a few hours glued to both the simulcasts and the casual betting being had by any other patrons in the vicinity.
He doesn't risk his money on any of the sports that are too unfamiliar for him to have any kind of grasp on yet, but there's nothing overly complex about giant robot fights. When the simulcast turns over to one of those, Charlie orders another drink and cheerfully nudges whatever poor sod is sitting next to him.
"I'll bet you a tenner the blue one kicks the other one's arse."
[Street of the Gods]
He'd been before on Nate's recommendation, but a month after his own arrival and Charlie finds himself spending frequent afternoons meandering his way through the street of the gods. Not that he's the religious sort - superstitious yes and maybe there's a little faith in the concept of luck, if not Fortuna herself - but there's a strange kind of even keel to be found in the places where people put their trust. None of these gods belong to him (hell, most of them aren't even recognizable), but there's an order and purpose to the avenue that's as soothing as the indexing system in the fleet library. Categorized. Structured. Sensible in it's own way.
And Christ if he isn't missing a bit of that.
Charlie makes his way along the street, ducking into one of the churches (shrines? sanctuaries? God only knows) at random and finding it between services. Or maybe they haven't got services at all. Maybe it's just a glorified prayer box. That said there's benches running along the outer edge of the hall and he takes advantage of one by perching himself on the end of it. There are only a few other people in the sanctuary, stone silent, and he quickly finds himself needing to cough - does so, awkwardly and blustering.
"Pardon."
[WILDCARD - Choose Your Own Adventure!]
((ooc: I'm open to whatever!))
Where: Various
When: Catch-all from the 1st through the 8th.
Warnings: High likelihood of salty language, will update if necessary.
[Quark's]
Where there are sporting events, there's a simulcast to be found. Where there's sporting simulcasts in even semi-proximity of gambling tables, there's money to be made.
Charlie knows approximately jack all about approximately ninety percent of the games held in the Colliseum and beyond, but this is his element and he's a damn quick study when he likes to be. In this case - living off the generosity of the Fleet for this his second month and desperately trying to avoid considering gainful employment for as long as he's able -- Well, in this case he's got the motivation to learn all the finagling rules of space games and setting up shop at the end of the bar at Quark's seems as good a place as any to take in a few drinks, some chips and spend a few hours glued to both the simulcasts and the casual betting being had by any other patrons in the vicinity.
He doesn't risk his money on any of the sports that are too unfamiliar for him to have any kind of grasp on yet, but there's nothing overly complex about giant robot fights. When the simulcast turns over to one of those, Charlie orders another drink and cheerfully nudges whatever poor sod is sitting next to him.
"I'll bet you a tenner the blue one kicks the other one's arse."
[Street of the Gods]
He'd been before on Nate's recommendation, but a month after his own arrival and Charlie finds himself spending frequent afternoons meandering his way through the street of the gods. Not that he's the religious sort - superstitious yes and maybe there's a little faith in the concept of luck, if not Fortuna herself - but there's a strange kind of even keel to be found in the places where people put their trust. None of these gods belong to him (hell, most of them aren't even recognizable), but there's an order and purpose to the avenue that's as soothing as the indexing system in the fleet library. Categorized. Structured. Sensible in it's own way.
And Christ if he isn't missing a bit of that.
Charlie makes his way along the street, ducking into one of the churches (shrines? sanctuaries? God only knows) at random and finding it between services. Or maybe they haven't got services at all. Maybe it's just a glorified prayer box. That said there's benches running along the outer edge of the hall and he takes advantage of one by perching himself on the end of it. There are only a few other people in the sanctuary, stone silent, and he quickly finds himself needing to cough - does so, awkwardly and blustering.
"Pardon."
[WILDCARD - Choose Your Own Adventure!]
((ooc: I'm open to whatever!))
Who: Pinoko and YOU
Where: Quark's Bar - where everybody knows your name!
When: Backdated a couple days to Aprilo 23 - this past Friday - because I'm anal like that and there would actually be karaoke then.
Warnings: FEELS - this is a Pinoko post! Also will most likely include cavity inducing levels of cute!
Pinoko had been meaning to do this for awhile. She had asked around and even gotten Deadlock and Miss Gaige to agree to karaoke. And she had even had an outfit and songs and a date picked out and everything! And then the Teuberg had been attacked, everyone had gotten sick (Pinoko included), Pinoko had practically been living at the hospital tending to everyone, and she hadn't really gotten a chance to breathe or have any time for herself until recently.
So, once she had gotten a chance to pick out a new outfit, and reschedule with her new friends, she took herself down to Quark's on karaoke night. There would be singing and games and drinking of things and everything! She had arranged for people to just meet her at Quark's. That way if things came up, they could all meet up whenever.
She looked around the bar to see if any of her friends had arrived yet, or if there was anyone else she knew there. Even if not, Pinoko was game for making new friends. Or getting a drink. Hopefully they served non-alcoholic things here. It was time to find out!
Where: Quark's Bar - where everybody knows your name!
When: Backdated a couple days to Aprilo 23 - this past Friday - because I'm anal like that and there would actually be karaoke then.
Warnings: FEELS - this is a Pinoko post! Also will most likely include cavity inducing levels of cute!
Pinoko had been meaning to do this for awhile. She had asked around and even gotten Deadlock and Miss Gaige to agree to karaoke. And she had even had an outfit and songs and a date picked out and everything! And then the Teuberg had been attacked, everyone had gotten sick (Pinoko included), Pinoko had practically been living at the hospital tending to everyone, and she hadn't really gotten a chance to breathe or have any time for herself until recently.
So, once she had gotten a chance to pick out a new outfit, and reschedule with her new friends, she took herself down to Quark's on karaoke night. There would be singing and games and drinking of things and everything! She had arranged for people to just meet her at Quark's. That way if things came up, they could all meet up whenever.
She looked around the bar to see if any of her friends had arrived yet, or if there was anyone else she knew there. Even if not, Pinoko was game for making new friends. Or getting a drink. Hopefully they served non-alcoholic things here. It was time to find out!
[1]
If one went into the city, one might see an unusual sight: Cassiopia Suthorn shopping for clothes (of the most petite size, of course). If you knew her personally you'd guess she was the furthest thing from a fashionista, affecting worn coveralls and other aggressively concealing clothing even in a future where glam bodysuits were the norm.
In fact she was going to pretty much every clothing store, picking out outfits with a stage director's eye: what does this one say about the character you're portraying? Coveralls for a worker, something with a plunging neckline for a socialite, etc.
It was a business expense, and seeing as she didn't expect to be working as a waitress forever, it made sense. If she was going to take scouting jobs, she'd need the right tools, after all.
[2]
It was time to face facts: the bike was wrecked. Some terrible things had happened to it in the fight on Sharef. At the time it had been the right trade to make: one hoverbike for one of Big Bee'eef Slabthrust's crucate ligaments or whatever was the equivalent for her species. But now...She wasn't going to get it running by herself at home despite her best efforts so she'd wrestled it off of a hoverplatform and into a garage that would let her take a stab at it.
Of course she was much less familiar with this kind of technology as she'd have like to admit. Poking around in the ruined front of the former space-biker vehicle, she'd gotten a zap that had sent her rolling backwards, some of her hair sticking up. She roundly cursed the vehicle in Spanish, Mandarin and Japanese, then threw the keys at a hapless but amused looking employee.
If one went into the city, one might see an unusual sight: Cassiopia Suthorn shopping for clothes (of the most petite size, of course). If you knew her personally you'd guess she was the furthest thing from a fashionista, affecting worn coveralls and other aggressively concealing clothing even in a future where glam bodysuits were the norm.
In fact she was going to pretty much every clothing store, picking out outfits with a stage director's eye: what does this one say about the character you're portraying? Coveralls for a worker, something with a plunging neckline for a socialite, etc.
It was a business expense, and seeing as she didn't expect to be working as a waitress forever, it made sense. If she was going to take scouting jobs, she'd need the right tools, after all.
[2]
It was time to face facts: the bike was wrecked. Some terrible things had happened to it in the fight on Sharef. At the time it had been the right trade to make: one hoverbike for one of Big Bee'eef Slabthrust's crucate ligaments or whatever was the equivalent for her species. But now...She wasn't going to get it running by herself at home despite her best efforts so she'd wrestled it off of a hoverplatform and into a garage that would let her take a stab at it.
Of course she was much less familiar with this kind of technology as she'd have like to admit. Poking around in the ruined front of the former space-biker vehicle, she'd gotten a zap that had sent her rolling backwards, some of her hair sticking up. She roundly cursed the vehicle in Spanish, Mandarin and Japanese, then threw the keys at a hapless but amused looking employee.
[A rather harrowed looking Cassie appears. She's got the feels virus but bad and is barely holding herself together. She seems to not have slept in a while.]
Hey uh...It's your responsibility to watch your backs and all, but just in case you had an attack of the tonto, I checked in with a source and noone from Hyperion came through this time. Thought you oughta know.
Hey uh...It's your responsibility to watch your backs and all, but just in case you had an attack of the tonto, I checked in with a source and noone from Hyperion came through this time. Thought you oughta know.
[The audio in the transmission is a little crackly, probably the result of Tron fidgeting uncontrollably with the device.]
I have had no luck with system lookup... does anyone know of any way to restore lost memory?
[And his voice is wavering, on the verge of tears. Someone's a little virused up, though it might be testament to his willpower that he's let things sit this long despite it.]
Flynn. I need to talk to you. Now.
I have had no luck with system lookup... does anyone know of any way to restore lost memory?
[And his voice is wavering, on the verge of tears. Someone's a little virused up, though it might be testament to his willpower that he's let things sit this long despite it.]
Flynn. I need to talk to you. Now.
[The figure on the screen is a slight, dark skinned woman, looking defiantly up at the camera. You might recognize her if she's served you drinks at Quark's club/casino. Or if you saw her rolling with a few of the Jagtooths on Sharef, on obscure errands of her own. She seems uncomfortable with public speaking, shifting her weight from foot to foot, but blustering through it.]
Guess I oughta introduce myself... Name's Cassiopia Suthorn, Junior Lieutenant in the 17th Recon, AKA Camacho's Caballeros. My specialty's infantry anti-mech tactics. We had some trouble with poor, batsierra Big Bee'eef Slabthrust back on Sharef...I'm surprised we took no casualties, really. 'Cause of that, thought I'd offer to anyone who wants to learn how to take down the tin cans that you can join me in my practice. Can't let you PBI get pasted next time a mech...or, uh, other gigantic...thing...decides to do some urban renewal. [Yes she just tsundere'd every infantryperson on the fleet] Anyway...That's all.
Guess I oughta introduce myself... Name's Cassiopia Suthorn, Junior Lieutenant in the 17th Recon, AKA Camacho's Caballeros. My specialty's infantry anti-mech tactics. We had some trouble with poor, batsierra Big Bee'eef Slabthrust back on Sharef...I'm surprised we took no casualties, really. 'Cause of that, thought I'd offer to anyone who wants to learn how to take down the tin cans that you can join me in my practice. Can't let you PBI get pasted next time a mech...or, uh, other gigantic...thing...decides to do some urban renewal. [Yes she just tsundere'd every infantryperson on the fleet] Anyway...That's all.
Who: Big Bee'eef Slabthrust, Eye of Sharef Defenders
Where: The Eye of Sharef
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: Language, violence, metal
( Read more... )
Where: The Eye of Sharef
When: Late afternoon, Februaro 30th
Warnings: Language, violence, metal
( Read more... )
Who: Everyone who signed up for it!
Where: The Eye of Sharef space trading hub
When: 21st of Februaro
( Read more... )
[So, here's the opening part of The Black Eye of Sharef event. If you haven't heard of it, I strongly suggest reading up on it. If you join, you cannot simply back out as your characters will not be on any Fleet vessels just yet, so be sure before you sign up. However, we'll not prevent anyone from backtagging or simply claiming new threads took place before they left.
I request that as many posts regarding this be kept to the marked event posts as possible. However, as long as the main community doesn't get flooded, we won't be preventing anyone from posting outside. Note that as long as they are separate from the Fleet from this great a distance, their Network posts can only reach each other. The Fleet itself is simply out of range.
For this first part, the mods will be largely hands off. Don't go crazy with the NPCs, but we're probably not going to be spending a lot of time writing NPC comments for Part One.]
Where: The Eye of Sharef space trading hub
When: 21st of Februaro
( Read more... )
[So, here's the opening part of The Black Eye of Sharef event. If you haven't heard of it, I strongly suggest reading up on it. If you join, you cannot simply back out as your characters will not be on any Fleet vessels just yet, so be sure before you sign up. However, we'll not prevent anyone from backtagging or simply claiming new threads took place before they left.
I request that as many posts regarding this be kept to the marked event posts as possible. However, as long as the main community doesn't get flooded, we won't be preventing anyone from posting outside. Note that as long as they are separate from the Fleet from this great a distance, their Network posts can only reach each other. The Fleet itself is simply out of range.
For this first part, the mods will be largely hands off. Don't go crazy with the NPCs, but we're probably not going to be spending a lot of time writing NPC comments for Part One.]
◾ Tags:
- !event,
- !log,
- !npc: arvel,
- back to the future: marty mcfly,
- battletech: cassiopia suthorn,
- biomega: kanoe zouichi,
- black jack 21: pinoko,
- borderlands: angel,
- borderlands: gaige the mechromancer,
- borderlands: krieg the psycho,
- borderlands: maya the siren,
- ffvii: cloud strife,
- makai ouji: kevin cecil,
- mega man x: zero,
- mm power rangers: jason lee scott,
- original: anzu menelik,
- original: del wellett,
- pandora hearts: oz vessalius,
- pandora hearts: xerxes break,
- slayers: lina inverse,
- star trek: odo,
- star wars: obi-wan kenobi,
- steven universe: garnet,
- transformers: deadlock,
- transformers: flashpoint (oc),
- tron legacy: tron
2014-02-17 09:52shitflashpointsays
shitflashpointsays[ This little adventure? Not exactly the vacation of a lifetime. Flashpoint's never missed her flask of engex more than now. She needs a drink, or she's gonna start rubbing the enamel clean off her faceplates. Sharing hangar number-why-do-they-need-this-many-hangars with Deadlock hasn't exactly encouraged peace-of-mind inducing solid recharge. Two extremely long weeks later she's finally got her own place though, and HELL YES the fabricators sure do make energon as well as organic food. There's just one critical problem. ]
[ They don't make booze. Apparently engex was not high on the engineering staff's list of quality of life enhancements for Cybertronians. Well, frag that. She'll just make her own. Uh. Somehow... ]
So. My people subsist on energon and the oh-so-kind engineers here have programmed the fabricators to make it but...
Mmmm...
I'm hoping to modify the formula. A little variety shall we say? Increased, uh, 'potency' most definitely.
[ Hopefully with inebriating effects. Hey, no one said it wasn't legal! Right? ]
Not a scientist though. Anyone give me a hand?
[ Yes, she really is asking for help making moonshine. ]
[And if this broadcast had fine print it would read 'proceed at your own risk; energon has explosive tendencies' but fine print means caution and caution + Flashpoint aren't exactly a common package deal.]
[ They don't make booze. Apparently engex was not high on the engineering staff's list of quality of life enhancements for Cybertronians. Well, frag that. She'll just make her own. Uh. Somehow... ]
So. My people subsist on energon and the oh-so-kind engineers here have programmed the fabricators to make it but...
Mmmm...
I'm hoping to modify the formula. A little variety shall we say? Increased, uh, 'potency' most definitely.
[ Hopefully with inebriating effects. Hey, no one said it wasn't legal! Right? ]
Not a scientist though. Anyone give me a hand?
[ Yes, she really is asking for help making moonshine. ]
[And if this broadcast had fine print it would read 'proceed at your own risk; energon has explosive tendencies' but fine print means caution and caution + Flashpoint aren't exactly a common package deal.]
Who: New Arrivals, Captain Jack Hollis, Science Captain Urist McEngineer, Graham Baker
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon
Warnings: None
When awakening, you'll find the area you're in to be very busy. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.
The room is large, but not quite large enough for some of the bigger Cybertronians. They've been given drone bodies at least, skinny little things with no real features beyond primitive masks made of paper plates. There's seats for everyone, at least, well-cushioned and comfortable, and the room is pleasantly lit.
A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. Three men stand at the head. One is Graham Baker, a slightly nervous-seeming middle-aged man wearing a multi-layered business suit that seems rumpled and oversized. The other two men are dressed in military uniforms, one with the blue undershirt and piping of Command, while the other wears the gold of Science.
[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with.]
Where: Briefing Room
When: Late afternoon
Warnings: None
When awakening, you'll find the area you're in to be very busy. The people in the medical ward are polite and understanding, but firmly refuse to answer questions until the briefing. The same goes for the robots in the hangars. Either given hospital outfits resembling very comfortable pajamas, drone bodies, or their own bodies, they are escorted by polite, unyielding people in red and black uniforms to the briefing room.
The room is large, but not quite large enough for some of the bigger Cybertronians. They've been given drone bodies at least, skinny little things with no real features beyond primitive masks made of paper plates. There's seats for everyone, at least, well-cushioned and comfortable, and the room is pleasantly lit.
A few Security personnel, dressed in their red and black uniforms, stand at ease in the rooms in strategic areas. Three men stand at the head. One is Graham Baker, a slightly nervous-seeming middle-aged man wearing a multi-layered business suit that seems rumpled and oversized. The other two men are dressed in military uniforms, one with the blue undershirt and piping of Command, while the other wears the gold of Science.
[Questions to the NPCs will go in the briefing thread. The rest of the post is there for people to mill about and do whatever with.]
◾ Tags:
- !log,
- !new arrivals,
- !npc: captain hollis,
- !npc: graham baker,
- !npc: science captain mcengineer,
- .hack//g.u.: haseo,
- attack on titan: levi,
- battletech: cassiopia suthorn,
- biomega: kanoe zouichi,
- ffviii: selphie tilmitt,
- hataraku maou-sama!: urushihara hanzo,
- mcu: steve rogers,
- pandora hearts: oz vessalius,
- pandora hearts: xerxes break,
- slayers: lina inverse,
- star control: zex,
- star trek: odo,
- the covenant: chase collins,
- tron legacy: tron
