Entry tags:
- *mission log,
- bellamy blake [the 100],
- bucky barnes [mcu],
- cathaway,
- commander shepard [mass effect],
- damon salvatore [the vampire diaries],
- john murphy [the 100],
- joseph kavinsky [raven cycle],
- lexa [the 100],
- misato katsuragi [evangelion],
- petre dodrescu [original],
- pidge gunderson (katie holt) [voltron],
- sam wilson [mcu],
- seviilia brightwing [warcraft],
- takashi "shiro" shirogane [voltron],
- the prince
MISSION: WAYPOINT SHRIL, PT. I
CHARACTERS: All
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day :025 - :029
SUMMARY: Welcome to Waypoint Shril, the soon-to-be home to the galaxy's most incredible competition!
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Strange, how a moment ago everything seemed perfectly fine - as normal as things get on Station 72 - and then the next the entire void shifts by a degree. There's a crackling, anticipatory feel in the air. Dwelled on too long and it might become nauseating, triggering some hindbrain impulse the nervous system under the skin or--
Something is coming.
Something is coming undone.
In the heart of the Station in a small, featureless circular room, The Prince and Cathaway dredge the Station from its mooring. There's a rush of shared adrenaline, then an massive sensation like an inhale. A gulp of breath. Relief floods through the body like something palpable as the massive beehive structure of the Station snaps into real space above the deep space space station known as Waypoint Shril.
( ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬...Please meet us in the hangar. We have your next assignment....▬▬▬. )
Once they've arrived at the hangar, the Hosts will be briefed by Cathaway and Prince on their new objective. They'll be given their mission kits, along with a written brief on their databanks. The usual warnings apply. Try not to kill anyone. Do not get killed yourself. And accomplish your mission. From there, pack yourself onto the transport shuttle and make your way to the Waypoint. --One of you knows how to drive, right?
Once ejected from the Station, you'll find yourself on one of literally thousands of ships. The black space above Waypoint Shril is full to bursting with air traffic from the smallest pod-shaped one being ship to the most gargantuan floating planet cruisers. Some of them rival even the Station which now lurks, a mottled white and grey latticework structure that's no more bizarre to look at than any of its neighbors.
VROOM. A ship shaped like a sword with a naked multi-limbed alien painted in lascivious, technicolor detail along the blade slices directly across the path of the shuttle transport. It blares a proximity alarm and a holographic message full of swearing and threats pops up even as the ship blasts down toward the traffic choked landing platform in the distance. A school of insectoid fighters go swarming after it. In the distance, the flash of ships dropping out of hyperspace through the gate rings gleams like a strobe light and on around the landing platform itself buzz two dozen security vessels desperately trying to keep order.
Welcome to Waypoint Shril. Don't crash into anyone on the way in.

((OOC NOTES: Welcome to Waypoint Shril! This log covers the arrival on the Waypoint and can be used for anything prior to the start of the Aurora Blue Arena! on Day :029. However, feel free to make your own logs if you choose! You can find a complete mission overview and a place to ask any mission-specific questions over at the OOC post.
Thanks everyone!))
WHERE: WAYPOINT SHRIL
WHEN: Day :025 - :029
SUMMARY: Welcome to Waypoint Shril, the soon-to-be home to the galaxy's most incredible competition!
WARNINGS: N/A, will update as necessary.

SOMETHING IS WRONG. Strange, how a moment ago everything seemed perfectly fine - as normal as things get on Station 72 - and then the next the entire void shifts by a degree. There's a crackling, anticipatory feel in the air. Dwelled on too long and it might become nauseating, triggering some hindbrain impulse the nervous system under the skin or--
Something is coming.
Something is coming undone.
In the heart of the Station in a small, featureless circular room, The Prince and Cathaway dredge the Station from its mooring. There's a rush of shared adrenaline, then an massive sensation like an inhale. A gulp of breath. Relief floods through the body like something palpable as the massive beehive structure of the Station snaps into real space above the deep space space station known as Waypoint Shril.
Once they've arrived at the hangar, the Hosts will be briefed by Cathaway and Prince on their new objective. They'll be given their mission kits, along with a written brief on their databanks. The usual warnings apply. Try not to kill anyone. Do not get killed yourself. And accomplish your mission. From there, pack yourself onto the transport shuttle and make your way to the Waypoint. --One of you knows how to drive, right?
Once ejected from the Station, you'll find yourself on one of literally thousands of ships. The black space above Waypoint Shril is full to bursting with air traffic from the smallest pod-shaped one being ship to the most gargantuan floating planet cruisers. Some of them rival even the Station which now lurks, a mottled white and grey latticework structure that's no more bizarre to look at than any of its neighbors.
VROOM. A ship shaped like a sword with a naked multi-limbed alien painted in lascivious, technicolor detail along the blade slices directly across the path of the shuttle transport. It blares a proximity alarm and a holographic message full of swearing and threats pops up even as the ship blasts down toward the traffic choked landing platform in the distance. A school of insectoid fighters go swarming after it. In the distance, the flash of ships dropping out of hyperspace through the gate rings gleams like a strobe light and on around the landing platform itself buzz two dozen security vessels desperately trying to keep order.
I. PLATFORM ALFA
When the ship finally docks on Waypoint Shril - after a lot, lot longer than you may have liked -, the scene that greets you is more hectic than even the busiest rush-hour on Concordia. There are simply too many people in too small and too hastily prepared of a space. The platform itself was clearly designed for utility, not for comfort and not for style. The walls- towering sheets of welded metal from a countless number of sources, flecked with old paint and the occasional slash of grafitti - offer nothing in the realm of sound dampening, and the electro-cloth banners that hang from the ceiling, advertising the Aurora Blue Arena! in dozens of different languages do little to help. As a result, the entire platform echoes with thousands of voices trying to talk over each other and the newly enhanced intercom system struggling to be heard over the din as it works to provide simple directions and instructions for the teeming mass of tourists.
In the press of flesh and the constant motion, it’s easy to get swept away from your party. It’s easy to find that the items you just had on you are suddenly missing, expertly palmed away by slippery fingers as you try to push your way towards the series of pneumatic tubes leading to the Waypoint proper. Ship's hydraulics hiss, lights flash, and the smell of greasy stall food spreads out from the edges of the platform. There are a few bright-eyed, clever locals - or what count for locals on Waypoint Shril - who don’t hesitate to reach out and grab your arm, offering to be your guide. Asking if you’re here as a spectator or a participant. Asking if you need information. Company. Everything has a price.
Get your bearings - if you can. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks.
II. THE MOST FABULOUS PLACE IN THE UNIVERSE (Please Excuse Our Dust!)
Waypoint Shril's main thoroughfares and twisting platforms may have made sense to someone, but now absolutely no one knows how to navigate them as the ABA! has swept through Waypoint, bulldozing and building up anything and everything in its path. Oh, did you like that tentacle sandwich shop you stopped in five minutes ago? Too bad! We decided two minutes ago we're tearing it down to make way for a spa-slash-beer-garden! Stand back please, there are explosives detonating in this area in 3, 2, 1…--!
Everywhere you look, Waypoint Shril is undergoing a dramatic transformation. Maybe there are places on the outskirts, far from the Arena Zone that aren't literally being paved over or built on top of, but they seem to be the exception to the rule. Don't get lost as the neighborhood quite literally changes shape around you!
III. MEET THE COMPETITION
Between the fabulous prizes and the fabulous fame - every single still-living winner of the previous competitions became household names before they stepped out of the Arena, then went on to live lavish lives of excess where they're paid exorbitant fees just to be seen and heard, known for canoodling and cavorting with the best, the brightest, the most privileged the Galaxy has to offer- it’s no surprise that the ABA! draws competitors like a magnet. And while not everyone advertises their status, plenty do - hoping to exchange the slimmest possibility of their victory for favors or drinks or just plain old attention. They’re loud, they’re visible, and plenty of them are very, very drunk, or whatever counts for drunk for their species.
If you want to size up the competition, now’s the time - in the middle of Blunt Force, with scores of other competitors lined up. The club itself is home to a deep, thrumming beat that vibrates through your chest, the industrial concrete walls covered in splashes of electro-paint that pulses in time with the beat. The floor is dark and smooth, the bar is long and there isn’t a single seat to be found at it, just an endless slab of some ancient black stone that drinks slide back and forth across. Every bartender wears a half of a mask in clear plastic run through with simple circuitry in complex patterns and they’ll keep you hydrated for a modest price. Above the floor on a catwalk composed of corrugated metal and transparasteel there are low couches and cushions in rich fabrics of a hundred different patterns of velvet and neon, two dozen tables, and another small bar that will hand out drinks and powders and oils and smoke. The patrons are as varied as anything else in this place, as hodge-podge. Slender, slick looking people with hunched backs and long necks. Short, broad aliens with four legs and four arms. Something heavily shrouded, the only part of them visible a proboscis. Some are here to dance, some to drink, some to talk and more than a few to fight - maybe for keeps. Hell, you might be one of them.
IV. WILDCARD
There's plenty to see, do and explore. You've got a few days before the competition kicks off - might as well make the most of it.

((OOC NOTES: Welcome to Waypoint Shril! This log covers the arrival on the Waypoint and can be used for anything prior to the start of the Aurora Blue Arena! on Day :029. However, feel free to make your own logs if you choose! You can find a complete mission overview and a place to ask any mission-specific questions over at the OOC post.
Thanks everyone!))

no subject
[The information provided by Cathaway and the Prince doesn't necessarily support that, but that doesn't mean that Lexa can't think differently.
Perhaps under all the layers of construction, there was something that mattered once.]
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[ Well, that really doesn't make Pidge like this anymore than she did before. If anything, she feels worse about being a part of the Nest. Then again, she can't do anything about it, can she?
Ugh. She pulls a face. ]
That's what I worry about. I don't want to stop being... me.
no subject
Then again, she may have done that herself. After all, her broodmates are now gone. Could she have done anything to change that?]
From what I've seen and heard, losing yourself is still a matter of choice. We may adapt in ways we don't expect, but going that far will still be something of our choosing. [She has enough evidence to support this. There are ... shifts, changes, unexpected moments where she doesn't notice her fondness toward one person or another is driven by someone close to her, but she still feels confident in her identity.
It's odd to feel that way, but perhaps in stifling her power, she found something else to feel strong about.]
no subject
[ Katie scuffs a foot against the floor with a frown. She still feels very trapped and even if she's become used to the station and (reluctantly) used to the voices and swirl of thoughts and emotions that aren't her own, that doesn't mean she likes any of it. ]
The longer I'm here, the more this all starts to feel normal, even if I know it isn't. That's what worries me. Sure, I don't want to make that choice now, but how long is it going to be before I have other people thinking for me in my own head? If I'm here for... I don't know, ten years, how am I going to change?
no subject
But all people change. Some part of me will always disdain the choice I made in coming here. [In choosing her continued life for that moment in a way that would go on to hurt her own people.] That same part disagrees with what I'm saying now. But if I spend every day hating this, I can't progress as I am and as who I know myself to be.
no subject
I think I get it. Trying to push back too much... It just wastes energy. So focus on being you, even if everything changes. Because we're all going to change anyway, right?
no subject
[She is speaking to her as a novitiate, she realizes. Teaching comes quite naturally to Lexa, albeit with that layer of "I'm in charge" that she can never shake. Still, there's an underlying warmth in trying to help Katie find comfort.]
no subject
[ It's a chance to change the subject, even if Katie sort of appreciates what Lexa is saying. She breathes out, in, tries to get a hold of herself. It's not easy. It's never been easy and being surrounded by people who can read her like a book if they really want to hasn't made it any easier. ]
I understand, though. It's just - I dunno. It's something. I don't really have a word for it.
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I do understand where you stand. There are things that my people do that I'm not quick to give up. Not just yet. The fact is that I'm ready to adapt as I am, but I intend to find a way that works for me. [Meaning: Katie will have to do the same for herself.]
no subject
Yeah. Yeah, I understand. I mean, I got used to being a paladin. I can get used to this, right?
[ It's not a reassuring thought, but maybe she can actually do this on her own terms. ]
I just wish it was easier.
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no subject
I guess.
[ Time to change the subject. ]
Uh, what do you think about our assignment?
no subject
In this situation, she's certain of it. Striking a balance is important.
Just the same, even if she'd be willing to continue that line of thought, she follows the path that Katie makes just the same.]
I believe it's a method of obtaining an object or prize that will help us. Whether that will truly help us is yet to be seen, but the "Nest" seems to think so. Of course, we don't know that the Nest wants us to succeed in the long run.
no subject
[ It doesn't make logical sense. If it wanted to hurt or kill them, the Nest could do it easily, without having to go through this whole song and dance routine. Right? ]
no subject
But the thought of Murphy is only a flicker of his face in her mind and nothing more, at least for now.]
But we'd hardly be the first people to suggest that. I think it would be more likely that the Nest wouldn't realize that it's self-sabotaging itself. Then again, many among our numbers are unique, capable of bearing this struggle. That self-sabotage would come with little proof.
no subject
[ Katie sounds rather gloomy about that idea. She really doesn't like it. Murphy's face gets a brief, questioning moment of wonder and then her focus is back on the now. ]
I feel like we do need proof. Empty theorizing doesn't help anyone.