can you see all of me

Twenty-First Voice (voicepost/actionpost)

Fri, 06 Feb 2009 16:46:20 GMT

They've all come together to kill us. Yes. This is how they'll do it, by driving us to madness, by poisoning our neurons, but burning them out with this dripping, this clicking, ticking, back and forth of a pendulum so large we can't hear it, only feel it, and it shakes us like a cannon blast has pierced us and rippled out and out once, twice, over and over again...

We heard them, and now they are gone. All their minds...why are they so silent? All replaced, overcome by that sound. Take it away...

(He bends his head and snarls a fluid-choked growl through his teeth.)

Take it away--

(There are few people about near this end of the alleyway -- a silhouette sees him and ducks around a corner, vanishing into the streets. Throwing back his head, pulling open several holes in his melting ribs, he draws in a powerful breath that stretches his skin tight like a drum's cover. He screams, an unearthly roaring sound that shakes the glass streetlights and windows.)

Can't think, we can't see, all the world is spinning and melting and it's all we can hear, all we can feel--we would tear our head off if only it would help, but it can't--

(Two tendrils burst from his chest and stretch down to the ground, forming into rough, half-melted legs that push him back up, and now he's standing centaur-style with his lower body turned into some lizard-beast with a whip-tail dripping out of his back to coil around his feet. A long dragon's neck stabs out from between his collarbones, ripping his head half off so that it lies flat against his back, a melting mass.)

That infernal clock...why?

(A rat panics and skitters out of a pile of dust; he pins it under a foreleg and thrusts the column down to grab it in a forming beast's mouth. It squeals and squirms and kicks at his teeth as he raises his new head, its tail hanging from the side of his jaws. He staggers about at a slow pace down the center of the alley, legs wobbling in a drunken sway, falling apart and reforming all at once, snarling around the screeching rat. In such a state, he approaches the end of the alley and stumbles into the street, raving through his closed mouth the sounds of a crazed monster.)

(ooc: 2 months in isolation will do that to a person here, eh?)

Twentieth Voice

Wed, 04 Feb 2009 20:29:48 GMT

February already, is it? I've been holed up in my workshop through the cold. It's hard enough to keep this old piping from freezing and requires far too much fuel for the heating system ~~that we had to create and organically power ourselves~~. That, and taking care of my cats, have consumed my time ~~and perhaps you as well, once we determine how to put a loadout on this cat.~~

Is anyone up for some urban exploration? And by that I mean, traversing some rooftops and maybe heading to the top of the clock tower. It's a good way to get out, and the City looks brilliant when covered in snow.

(OOC: Nagarov has a cyborg cat that may or may not be spying on you right now. Remember, Ceiling Cat is watching you...I don't know, what are you doing?

But it looks kinda like this:

http://fafnir312.deviantart.com/art/Cyborg-Kitty-9665929

Feel free to actionpost, simply post in your own journal, or whatever :) )

Nineteenth Voice (voicepost)

Sun, 21 Dec 2008 02:43:17 GMT

(Sounds of growling and rumbling, and something that sounds like very loud breathing.)

What is that --

(Sounds of fire being doused, faster breathing, lots of sparking and hissing, a couple of words in another language that are said in such a way that they're obviously swears. The voice that follows is calm, plain, and sounds larger than a human's.)

Hmm.

Interesting.

City, whoever placed a Christmas tree into my inner shop was foolish. A clever attempt at burning down my work, but not so successful. Whoever it was, (sound of a long breath being drawn) had to be magical. That is most interesting, the ability to transport matter and energy through a wall without even being in the building, but perhaps there are signs of who it was on the tree itself. Candle ornaments. What possessed humans to create them is a mystery. They're an obvious danger.

(A faint rushing of breath into the speakers.)

The shop is closed today for repairs. Anyone who enters, I will personally take apart, with exceptions. The exceptions know who they are.

It's so painful...some of the neurons were singed, and they will be defective from now on. We need more mass; we're losing it too quickly. If only we could get our hands on mutagens, or on more humans.

(Another intake and the pounding of a piston.)

That is all.

Eighteenth Voice

Thu, 04 Dec 2008 15:29:26 GMT

Dear Santa,
For Christmas, I want my power back.

I want my starship armada, my speed and physical prowess, and the ability to leave this planet if need be. Also, I want resistance to magical powers. That would be helpful here.

Oh, and a tank of LB broth the size of this warehouse. Though I don't know where I'd put it.

And a very large mass driver cannon.

Nagarov

I wouldn't be at all surprised if Santa appeared, though I do wonder how he'd carry a tank the size of the Warehouse.

Seventeenth Voice

Wed, 03 Dec 2008 19:29:05 GMT

It's December already? That didn't take long. I've lived here...how long? September, October, November...three months. I suppose that isn't very long at all.

The shop now includes a couple of fab machines, namely some etching baths and photolithography equipment. If you guys swear not to spill the HF everywhere, I'll be nice and let you use it. You have no idea how much ~~that will damage our calcium structures~~ money I had to spend getting those chemicals. Use the baths sparingly and all that. Don't etch more than you need to, and don't waste my chemicals.

And just to remind you, I take machine commissions.

On another note...City, if you wanted to give a nice surprise -- a gift, an act, something -- to a female friend with whom you're not romantically involved, what would you do?

And how is your war, Major?

Sixteenth Voice

Sat, 08 Nov 2008 19:50:57 GMT

And here in the night as I feel the inferno
I stare in the dark thinking what is eternal
The man or the moment
The act or the reason
These thoughts fill my head as I contemplate treason
Of dreams I have had and dreams I have pondered
When late in the night my mind it would wander
To things I have done and then quickly regretted
while denying vices my life had selected
And I think what I've done or have yet to begin
And the man I've become and the man that I've been
No caught in the waltz with an eternal dancer
I'm courted by death, but death isn't the answer I say

All I was meant to be
Could I suddenly just decide
Not a thought would survive
Could it be my life's worth
Ended there with my birth?

If I could see someone who's been there before me
And traded his soul for a moment of glory
His penance or mercy by spirits debated
While judged on a scale that's been heavily weighted
And what have I done could it be such a sin
In this man I've become, in this man I've become
now calling to God from the pit's very bottom
I pray he forgives every sin I've forgotten this day

And who would have thought that my fate it would conjure
This twist in the road on which I have wandered
Each vision and dream now completely dismembered
To give one's whole have and find nothing's remembered
And what good's a life that leaves nothing behind
Not a thought or a dream that might echo in time
The years and the hours
The seconds and minutes
And everything that my life has placed in it betrayed
Betrayed
Betrayed

The things I have done, the places I've been
The cost of my dreams, the weight of my sins
And everything that I've gathered in life
Could it be lost
Could it be lost in this
Could it be lost in this
Could it be lost in this night?

I don't sing so well, City; my apologies. But it fit.

No so long ago, I came mere moments from death, so close that I could see the light at the end of the tunnel in a blazing ball that seemed to move in slow motion as it came toward me. I always thought those illusions of time were just stories, exaggerations...they're not. Life really did slow to nearly a stop -- it seemed to take hours to realize what was happening.

The humans used a fusion cannon to blast my ship to pieces. A weapon powered by a tiny star. It fired bursts that then exploded in a shockwave that burned everything in its way, a nova triggered when the star was free of containment and had not enough gravity to hold itself together. Such small mass can't be in equilibrium like that.

Being shot by this feels like someone has poured gasoline down your throat and lit it up with a match. You can feel all your flesh burning from the inside out, and you don't ever blank out or die, because you just can't die until every last inch of it is gone. All the force blowing you apart, like someone set off a bomb in you. All the flesh tearing and burning up. All your mind fading away piece by piece, neurons fraying and burning, every single fading memory tearing from your grip. So much silence. It has never been so quiet as then. They were all silent, whether in grief, or relief, or absence.

The worst part was imagining what would happen if I survived. I would be an animal, on the level with a dog. Maybe a reptile, even. Maybe a fish. The more that burned, the lower I'd fall, and then I'd have lost all I ever gained. All I ever was. And then they would stomp me out
forever, and all the eternity I had planned would be gone forever. All I ever wanted, no matter anymore.

I barely managed to avoid disaster. I didn't lose all my mind, all my knowledge. I was prepared, in a strange sense. I think I saw it coming; some little part of me did, at least. Knew it would end like this. Knew I couldn't stand up to them. Evolution had selected them, not me. This was simple. Logical. But no matter what I think, for all my difference from all of them, I have gained the ability to fear. There's still nothing like staring down death and waiting to be consumed. Its jaws are a brilliant shade of gold.

...I suppose that's how I thought of it. I wonder if that's what all of them thought, what it was like for them.

And I wonder if the humans saw it like I did, the power they had when they fired that into my bridge. The same sense of power. Devouring conquest. One more step to the top.

City, why do you want me to monologue? This gets nothing done, and you know it. Oh, well...I'll be better tomorrow, I suppose...

(ooc: will pick up tags around 5:00 PM EST because I have somewhere to go. Sorry, guys.)

Fifteenth Voice

Wed, 05 Nov 2008 20:06:01 GMT

Well, the City's getting sick. Maybe we should all quarantine ourselves these days. My immune system is top-notch, so I doubt I'll be getting whatever you have, but I'll be on the lookout. I recommend to all of you that if you find yourself suffering any symptoms, you stay home and recover. It'll only be a couple of weeks. It's better than the entire City being infected with whatever-it-is. The flu, probably. I should prep some kind of antivirals to try to help the City, if I can get my hands on the appropriate lab materials soon.

I've named the cats Citrine and Zirconium. Those of you who like science should appreciate it.

Today I'm sitting on top of the clock tower with my laptop and a bag of chips, watching the fireworks. It's beautiful -- more of you should come up and see, if you can make it up here. Papillon, yours are very impressive. I'd recognize the butterflies anywhere. I've never worked with gunpowder -- props to you for knowing how to use it.

I'll be up here all day; come say hi. It's a good day to relax, if you're not sick.

Fourteenth Voice

Mon, 03 Nov 2008 19:01:30 GMT

I have two cats now.

They're new, so I'm getting them used to the Warehouse and setting up the place to make sure they don't trip over everything or fall down a pipe. ~~The little silver one will be good for the cyberization test. We will test the mutated strain on the other.~~ They're around to kill the mice in my area of the warehouse, once they're big enough. For now, I'll be feeding them Zell's cat food and taking them out into the City on occasion, so they'll learn to do things like ride on my shoulder and be people-friendly.

One is male and the other female. I'm not sure if I'll breed them in the future, but it may happen so that I can get a few more kittens. I won't let them go nuts, though, don't worry. We won't have another problem like the thousands-of-orange-cats unless the deities do that again. (Huge apologies again to the cat-magnet man. Unintentional, I swear. And to Roxas.)

Zell, come see them. They're cute and one of them was once yours. I know you've seen that one, but you should see the orange one, too. Last time you saw an orange cat was when you were a really angry ferret. Did I mention you make a really cute ferret?

Anita, you should definitely come down sometime this week. The kittens will love you, and I've missed seeing you around. If you don't feel like fuzzy kittens, we can go beat something up Underground. If you've forgotten stuff about me during your space-out not long ago, I can handle monsters just fine.

I have a fair amount of mouse data that show the nanites are becoming effective against a number of basic bacterial pathogens. I know that's not very specific, but I'd prefer to show you the data in person.

I believe our conversation was lost. Why don't we get to the point? If you want to support me without somehow obtaining magic resistance for me, well, I need fresh sentients and a way to obtain many liters of a certain few chemicals. Not necessarily at once. And if there is anything I can do to support your cause ~~distract the City by using you to do so~~, let me know.

Thirteenth Voice

Fri, 17 Oct 2008 18:57:41 GMT

Race day, City! This time I'll play a little nicer. No promises that your car will make it out intact, though!

Anyone feel the need for speed? I'll take you on.

Twelfth...meow?

Tue, 14 Oct 2008 16:19:53 GMT

...MEOW.

Do what now?

...Oh.

The machine shop will be closed today due to, ah, cats.

~~Lots of cats, in fact. So many cats. Ridiculous amounts of cats. Sometimes we wonder if being a collective here is a good thing.~~

Yes. (mrowl) Cats. And the fact that I now am a cat and can't quite yell at you if you break my machines. Come back tomorrow.

~~Our computer systems are all shut down. It's a good thing we constantly stream data to the server...~~

Also,

ANNOUNCEMENT FOR ZELL DINCHT. YOU OWE ME CAT FOOD. THANK YOU.

(ooc: Also known as, Everything Nagarov Does, He Does In Plural. There are now HORDES OF CATS floating around the Underground Warehouse and wandering the surface. They all look exactly alike, which is like the kittens in the pic, only orange. They all seem to know exactly what they're doing. Characters who love cats or just think this is the weirdest thing ever are welcome to pick them up or otherwise fawn over them. Characters who want to be traumatized can take them home and watch them melt into an alien blob come midnight. ^_^

Eleventh Voice

Thu, 09 Oct 2008 18:21:13 GMT

A battle! City, who wants to fight? There's a grand stadium there, and no one for me to enter it with. Surely more of you have the thirst for combat today.

Onward!

Tenth Voice

Wed, 08 Oct 2008 21:59:54 GMT

Even the Underground is thick with fog today. I've been spending all the day outside, upgrading the ventilation in my area of the Warehouse, getting parts, fetching stock from the wreck on the beach, taking note of who comes out on a day like this.

The answer, is very few.

I've seen so many today who refuse to step out into the white ether. They hide away, waiting for its end. But what of the day when it doesn't end? What of the day when the things in the fog come out to stay? What will you do then? Will you rescue your weak; will you coddle your fearful? See your collective potential, City. See your advancement. Your success. What, then, is the loss of a few? What, then, is the risk you must take by stepping out into the infinite nothing that has brought with it all the terrors you once feared as children?

I am a shapeshifter, I even look human, but at my core I am nothing at all. A billion billion neurons strung together that never belonged in the same body, a skin without a soul, a frame without a processor. You have made me what I am, and you have called that your enemy.

Power is adaptation, and standing in the universe is endurance. It is not given; it is gained. Evolved, conquered, bought. There is risk, there is pain, there is death. The universe is ruthless. It does not sympathize, not for me or for you, and you will see the fall of a hundred empires and a million men. But the whole carries on, and the whole ascends. That is all you can hope for with your hundred years you may live. But you stop, and you wait. You refuse to rise up and take your place. You back down, for fear of the few, and thus you allow others to rise above you. You fight amongst yourselves over petty little individualist matters.

I would sacrifice the one to protect the many, if it were necessary. For that, do you hate me?

I have seen worlds rise and fall, so many because they were disconnected, their minds were so separate, they were destroying themselves from within. They didn't see how they as one immense unit could accomplish everything they ever dreamed.

For that, are you afraid of me?

Ninth Voice (angry voicepost)

Sat, 04 Oct 2008 20:08:19 GMT

Tied. My hands are tied. This place has ground me into the earth.

Bloody curse. Getting off the network now--

I can't do anything. I'm going insane in this little building, insane, all by my self. This is not the way I work. This is not the way I live. And it's so much worse than before, when I had a chance, when I was so close to being them...

No, turn off the power, and--

They were just handed everything. Handed a planet, handed an empire, handed all the authority in the universe, it seems. Their victory was a fluke. Everything was going right. And then they sold out, traded away their secrets, won the war. Unpredictable, unreasonable, foolish pacifists.

Disabling generators in 10...9...

When I go back, none of this hiding anymore, their ships are--

I'm leaving now. Yes. Now.

(Sounds of clanging and growling and doors slamming.)

ooc: Oh so cursed. For his envy-monster, feel free to see/action spam him, as he is wandering around the edges of the City and through Xanadu and the forest, cutting a consumed swath through the foliage as a very imposing 20-foot-at-shoulder

The skin is supposed to be darker blue, a black-blue, instead of the medium blue. It's an old pic. PAY NO ATTENTION TO HOW MUCH THE BACKGROUND SUCKS OMG IT WAS YEARS AGO.

Eighth Voice

Thu, 02 Oct 2008 20:30:56 GMT

City, I'm looking for a cat. I've thought for a while about what kind of animal I would like to keep, and it seems to me that a cat is best for where I live. It is small, easy to take care of, and friendly; I can also set up ramps and platforms and such to give it more moving space so that it will have plenty of room. I would like it to be young, so that ~~it can get used to our unorthodox core chamber~~ it will be less shy about its new surroundings.

Where can I get one?

The police force is stretched thin for a city like this, and Anita is clearly not in the correct mental state to participate as well as she could. Prince Charming has caused dissent -- he is one we should speak to.

Police and Related People:
Anita -- Patrolman
Charming -- Warden (new)
Riza Hawkeye -- Lieutenant/Head of Police
Riou -- One of Riza's right-hand men?
Walter -- Imprisoned weapons-dealer
Abby -- unknown.

That Relating to the Archive
Kincaid -- non-human bodyguard.
The Archive -- compendium of all written knowledge.
Harry Dresden -- someone Kincaid trusts. Must find more about.

I have many others to categorize and link together. Progress, however, is occurring.

Seventh Voice

Tue, 30 Sep 2008 20:04:24 GMT

Did you hear them? The sounds of all minds laid bare within the network, the great consciousness of the City? Secrets are brought to light, dreams merge into one vision, every neuron twining together into one electronic being, one that is greater than the sum of its parts, one that could rattle the universe with its sheer collective might. But so many are screaming, and crying...perhaps it is human tendency, to fear anyone who may pry into their depths. When death has few consequences here, the worst fate is that of pain and shame. But when all knowledge is together, and all thoughts are as one, you are at your height.

City, I have seen a great many things in my time, but that day you were the most beautiful entity I have seen in my lifetime.

~~And this, one day, is what the City will be. We have our decision made now. We will not go back, never...We will unite this City, under -- no, part of -- our selves.~~

Sixth Voice (voicepost)

Wed, 24 Sep 2008 16:44:11 GMT

What the--

I don't have a normal physical form. Well. I do, but I don't. My old body -- where has it gone?

It flows now. ~~Even more than it did before.~~ It's like all of me is made out of blood...augh, I'm getting it everywhere, even when I just graze the walls. I can put my hand through myself with little trouble. All our machines are filled with blood now. We'll have to repair all of them.

All of my materials are gone! Everything in here is washed in blood. It leaves a trail when I walk...this better be a curse. My shop is going to be ruined. It's dripping through the floor, too -- I apologize to anyone who lives beneath me. I'm afraid that if I touch water, I'll just wash away.

I can't touch my keyboard either, dammit, or anything else I want to remain liquid-free. How I can talk and walk and generally act is a biological mystery. Deities, in the words of an old explorer I knew, may your charts burn and your food rot and your engines fail in the blackest depths of the void. In more colloquial terms, screw you.

~~Our infection ability is gone. One hundred percent gone. We'll be after the deities the second we can get out of this...yes.~~

(ooc: Because he has essentially sustained his body by killing people and consuming them, now he's made of blood. If you see him, feel free to stare at the walking Nagarov-shaped column of pure blood. This guy has killed quite possibly thousands to millions.)

Fifth Voice

Mon, 22 Sep 2008 18:45:15 GMT

Hey City!

After working day and night, I've converted a few rooms of the Underground Warehouse to an immense machine shop. If you need something made and made quickly, just say so. If you need specialized equipment for a futuristic project that isn't available in your world, there's a good chance I'll either have it or be glad to acquire it.

If it's available in the city, I can work in metal, plasteel, a wide range of organometallic compounds, and more. I build at the micro/nano-scale and up, although I can't produce any part that won't fit out a pair of big double doors. Right now, I'm not at heavy industry scale yet, but I'm working on that.

At the moment, I'm still loading stock materials and constructing machines, but I can take commissions now. Everything I make is custom-built for the time being.

Layout of the shop, for those of you who want to come by and say hello:

Third Floor section
- Mills, lathes, drill press, cold saw, band saw, and other standard machine tools with both manual and computerized settings.
- Includes a pretty good 3D printer.
- Stock room in the back.

Second Floor section
- Stairwell to Third Floor Shop, blueprinting/schematic design area with several computers and large consoles for use in designing to the best accuracy. Also a drop box where you can request stock for purchase and time on the machines (see below).
- Electrical shop with a full set of parts. You have to buy them, too, but they're cheaper than metal stock. Components are easier and cheaper to make than big bars, after all.
- Basic testing equipment like oscilloscopes, multimeters, power supplies, and function generators.
- To come: PCB fabrication machines.

So, what if you want to use the shop yourself? I'll allow that, given that you set up a time with me so that I can train you on the machines. Even if you've already used a standard shop, you'll need to learn a few new procedures for my machines, as they're different. They're fully programmable by me from a central node. When the machines are on under my guidance, they're on day and night, and they're not like your usual shop tools. They're AI-driven and have upgraded human interaction capability, meaning once you're trained in using them, they'll work to a precision and quality you won't get with your hands or old computer equipment.

You can bring your own materials; if you do, you don't have to pay to use the shop. If you want to use my stock, you have to buy it. There's a drop box in the 3-Center-West quarter, very obvious, at the schematic/design area.

Rules:

1. Stock isn't free. If you take it without my permission, I will see you and I will come get it back from you.

2. If a door is locked, please don't open it, even if your magic or whatever lets you do so. Property damage and weird accidents means I spend more time and resources fixing the door and whatever else you broke, and I don't let you back in.

3. Please don't open, move, pry apart, or otherwise tamper with the machines. If it breaks, there's a console in the room where you can report it, and it'll get fixed as soon as possible. Even if you think you know how to fix machines, you can't fix these. Trust me. ~~Read: If it breaks, we'll know about it, and we'll unjam it from whatever state humans put it into.~~

4. If it's left in the machine room for more than two days, whatever it is, it'll be used for generator fuel or stock. Please don't leave your expensive stuff or project in the main rooms. There's a designated lock-up room for projects near the stock room that is specifically designed for projects too unwieldy to carry back and forth from home. If you do leave something, send me a message and tell me.

Happy machining, everyone!

We can install our upgraded machines in the fourth floor, above the standard shop. The generator should keep the City from noticing the immense consumption of electricity and from seeing any patterns in our building. Security eyes will be watching the shop at all times. Unfortunately, we still need a large amount of microorganism bath for the tanks, which Cecilia was too paranoid to point us toward. Right now, all we can do is add as many simple fuels as possible and keep the growth continuous, store the excess in the tanks, use only what we need.

Anita is coming along well. Perhaps we can see into the police force through her, and gain more connections. The shop, too, will allow us a greater compendium of the City's residents and their personalities.

Things are going...better than they were.

(OOC Rules:

1. If you want to build anything in said shop that will affect more than one player in a significant manner, you must clear it IC with Nagarov and OOC with the mods. I was only allowed to make this shop under the conditions that I tell the mods about anything 'big' -- anything that will affect the City at large.

2. Consult with me, the mun, if you want to go sneaking around inside the aforementioned forbidden areas of the shop. I don't want every character doing it, but if yours knows Nagarov and it'd be fun to plot what happens when they stumble into a disturbing biomechanical workshop creating God-knows-what, just prod me and I'll probably squee happily.

3. If for some reason you want to blow up/otherwise screw with the structural quality of the shop, tell me. This should be obvious, but I figured since this post is a rules/infodump, I may as well state the obvious.)

Fourth Voice (an overheard conversation with self)

Sun, 21 Sep 2008 01:19:56 GMT

Construction...is slow. So slow. Where has all our strength gone? We can't expand enough to fill even one of the tanks in the time we could before. In our universe, we could have claimed the entire building, in relatively little time. Less than a day. But here...this place draws away our power.

(Sounds of clanking and metal being pushed along the floor.)

Regeneration is fast enough, but we aren't accustomed to it. We must practice continuously in order to defend our selves should something occur.

(Sounds of pouring and vacuum sealing.)

There are so few good resources here...

(Sounds of flowing liquid.)

The voices are louder now. Stronger. The clock makes it so much worse, because then they oscillate to the rhythm, and it's a resonance that echoes through our mind. The warehouse is an optimal living location, but it is isolated and fairly empty and so the clock is louder. We get lost in that sound sometimes, of all the crying and shouting and the depth of it all.

(Silence.)

So loud.

Third Voice

Mon, 15 Sep 2008 18:30:08 GMT

Hm, what's this? I can't get it off me. No matter what I try ~~even reforming the area again, it's still there!~~. Bright red, that I'm used to, but what's this about the letter D?

D. I suppose if it stood for something, I would understand. ~~Death. Destroyer. Devourer. Deceiver. But until I am so strong that they cannot fight back, that is the way.~~ The problem here is how it's burned into my chest it self. Not my shirt, my skin. No matter what I try to put in front of it, it bleeds into the fabric or whatever else I put up.

Maybe something stronger, like bleach? ~~It will kill some of our cells, but that is no matter.~~

I couldn't have gotten that tipsy at Lux last night. I have a ridiculously high tolerance, and I usually don't drink more than a weak mixer. So if you came into the warehouse and decided to draw on me in Freaky Magic Ink, I'd like to know the antidote. I'll get you lunch or something if you tell me. It's a little strange ~~and dangerous.~~

Second Voice

Sat, 13 Sep 2008 22:41:59 GMT

Looks like I'm going to be here for a while. There's no sign of my ship anywhere in the area, which means it was either blown to kingdom come or I got ejected and dropped into orbit and down, and now it's too far away to locate.

Well, darn, as someone I knew once said. ~~Says. Not anymore; his vocabulary has since gotten much larger...~~ That's not too bad, but I had some good stuff aboard. I don't want any scavengers breaking open my hull and stealing everything.

But I can't do anything about that now, so I should find the port here, hop a shuttle out, and see if I can get to somewhere that sells ships. Maybe I can access my account from there. I'll sink what's left into a new basic pilot-only hull and find the old one.

Until then, anyone on the network know a good place to get some dinner? For that matter, anyone bored enough to come with me?

First Voice (voicepost)

Sat, 13 Sep 2008 03:02:31 GMT

(Sounds of crashing branches and a big THUD as someone drops through a tree and lands flat on the ground.)

Auuuugh. Trees. Next time someone points their teleporter at me, I think they should warn me first. A little, Hey, look over here, before I drop you downside into full gravity. At least their aim could have been better.

The ship couldn't have crashed. I'm not that bad a pilot, under fire or not. Nearest planets to me were...Tau Ceti I and II. I'm definitely not anywhere else in the system. Unless the drive malfunction...wait.

I believe I'm getting ahead of my self. Where's my ship? Were we ejected? Someone surviving a fall like that will look very...sketchy to the locals. Did we parachute down? No, there's no sign of our flight pack. We are not at all where we should be. ...Have they found us?

(ooc: Nagarov has fallen out of the sky and landed near the fountain. Feel free to say hi and question his physical integrity. He's barely scratched, though he's still lying there and staring at the sky blankly.)</strike>