SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.

[modormenace]

All fourteen Gates simultaneously reverse polarity. For the next seven days, and only these seven days, any imPort stepping through a Gate will arrive safely in the Porter building: the only place on this fractured planet that can safely contain the energy of the imPort community in its entirety.

SO IT BEGINS
THE SYNOD

THE

DEATH

TRAIN

While the Gates are the simplest form of transportation, those making the journey to the Synod from the White Tower have the option of travelling by train, if they wish. Despite the playfully grim moniker, there haven't been any recorded fatalities on board the Death Train in many years. Or ever, really. Raw, untamed entropy doesn't do anything as simple as kill.

For that delightful reason, passengers will be reminded at frequent intervals not to attempt to leave the train once it enters the active zone of the Porter's defenses, or to do anything that could jeopardise the integrity of its shielding.

The journey is relatively comfortable and takes approximately two and a half hours. A limited menu of pastries and alcohol is available from the buffet car. The smallest tables seat two.

 

As the train passes through the entropy-saturated wasteland of the Deathdome, the view from the heavily tinted windows of each of the train's four-person cars is impossible to comprehend: every atom of the landscape is in a constant state of flux, scattered in endless possibilities across the multiverse.

WELCOME CARPET

Inside, you get the impression of three towers; no view from outside is possible. You're totally sealed inside for the week, by the same Fate-built tech that shields this place from the ravages of cosmic radiation— the train station is built into the structure, entrance tunnel hermetically sealed.

You're greeted by welcome robots, primitive little things full endless enthusiasm and covered in dents. What they lack in intelligence they make up for in persistence and durability. Each and every ImPort is assigned their own personal robutler.

Though they tend to hinder more than help.

Boop boop boop boop. They provide you with a complimentary swag bag. Inside is one (1) t-shirt, one (1) top of the line tablet (pre-loaded with this year's Agenda and a simple game app that looks suspiciously like 2048), a stress ball, personalised souvenir pen and eraser (but no pencil), and of course, a lanyard keycard for accessing the comfortably adequate accommodations provided for all attendees.

Given the week-long Synod, your room itself is a decent suite, furnished with dark colors, redolent with a smell you can't quite place. You may find yourself assigned an unexpected roommate, which may feel awkward considering you'll find arrayed on the beds, a half-dozen complimentary tickets to the spa, restaurants and the power gym, with its preternaturally durable equipment.

Robutlers constantly remind: do not attempt to leave the Porter facility or do anything to jeopardise the integrity of its shielding.

CONVENTION

Talks and panels take place in the convention area, which feels like a miniature city within the Porter's defenses, a hive with padded audience seats, wide stages, and complete with holographic audiovisual equipment that's curiously compatible with presentation software from every city.

Here, ImPorts will present and debate various topics regarded as major concerns for all. [OOCly, players are invited to suggest topics! Scroll down; they will be added below.]

This is also something of an expo, where cities practically demonstrate— or show off their good works. From the latest hovertechnology models to demonstrations of healing powers, playful duels in the forcefield-enclosed stages to magical books that temporarily transfer skills on touch, this is the place to pretend you're showing off your cards... while playing the most important ones close to your chest.

PANELS AND DEBATES

PRESENTERS

TOPIC

Joseph Kavinsky vs [N/PC]

White Tower ImPort Overpopulation and Dimensional Instability

Tony Stark and other technopaths

How Technology Will Save Us

Joshua Foley

The Mysteries and Intricacies of ImPort Physiology

Count Dooku and volunteers

ImPort Factions Must Align Against the Shared 'Resistance' Threat

Jin Bubaigawara (x3)

The Twin Cities are NOT Dimensionally Unstable No Matter What You Heard

Kang

Bridging Old and New: Maintaining Infrastructure with Limited Modern Resources

EVENING

EVENTS

Every night of the Synod, ImPorts gather to dine in a grand hall with a ballroom party. Each dinner is hosted by one ImPort city, gruntwork complete with robutlers-- which guarantees food safety, and complete with multiple cuisine options, cultural decor, and entertainment.

Given the range of cities represented, food options vary from greasy burgers to six courses of seafood and blue venison, and rarefied vegan fare.

When ImPorts aren't here eating, they're most often talking. Ergo, it's not uncommon for low-key drama to break out, but this year, the majority of Synod days seem to be passing uneventfully.

Fortunately, speeches are reserved for daytime. After dinner, it's time to dance.

 

The last song of the night is always obscure music no one can quite remember the words or melody to afterward. It's a slow dance song meant for two or more partners; the ballroom grows dark and the world seems to fade away. Or rather, it just fades back into one's hotel room.

THE BLACKOUT

On Monday, September 21st, shortly before the Gates are due to resume ordinary function and allow attendees to leave, the Porter building suffers a power cut.

Abruptly, all the lights cut out. Music stops. Your faithful robutler freezes in place, unresponsive— though its internal systems appear to be running, the centralised command hub that it relies on has fallen silent.

Though the robutlers are out of comission, technology-minded ImPorts and their tech drones hasten to reassure that systems analyses are underway. Within a few hours, repairs begin, the estimated time being two days.

In the meantime, thanks to the diversity of powers on hand, there is enough food and water. Candles start to circulate. It might even be a little romantic, if it weren't for the chaos outside. Characters might find themselves trapped in an elevator for a few hours, or compelled to seek comfort from one another.

Comments

[forgeabettertomorrow]

"I was his contingency! And now that he doesn't know I've snapped out of it, he won't see me coming. I won't give him that chance."

He grits his teeth to keep himself from pushing her down and storming by.

"You do what you want. I'm not going to pretend to know what you can do or what you want to plan, but if I take Luke down, this won't ever happen again. So...whatever your plan is? Save it for others."

[patchricide]

"You know now how much I worry about you, Darin."

But she starts to turn, to step aside. She won't hold him back from this. If the roles were reversed, would she forgive him for trying to smother her anger?

On the other hand...

"You're honest. Perhaps too honest, sometimes. And even if you were a skilled liar, your rage is burning bright and hot. Do you think it's possible to temper it to the point that he won't notice it?"

[forgeabettertomorrow]

"That's the rub...I don't..."

He huffs in frustration.

"Look...Allura...I'm not...I'm not your Darin. I can feel some of his memories and some of his...I don't know. His residual experiences? But I'm not him. So, forgive me if all of this is...it's new to me. Jarring."

But he steels his gaze.

"But I want him to notice it. I want him to feel it, like the rage of a furnace on his face. I want him to know what's coming and know there's nothing he can do to stop it."

[patchricide]

"... forgive me." She had thought, honestly, that simply being aware of the feelings shared and the relationship they had built would be enough for him to understand these nuances of it.

But that was a poor assumption, wasn't it? He had lived at arm's length from people around him. How could he be familiar with this? Hadn't it taken a long time for him to wrap his head around these things, in the beginning.

"Even if you're not my Darin, I know you well enough to know that you can do great things in this world. So... I don't want you to simply defeat him. I want to know that you'll live to see the day after, too."

[forgeabettertomorrow]

He halts his stride, his shoulders slumping. It was true that he was now...confused at best. He could feel something inside of him. Something bubbling up. The dejection in her voice stung his heart and that alone was proof of their connection.

But there was more. He felt it. They were not his feelings, but the feelings of another version of him, transposed from across time and space. So, he turns slowly and approaches her. And when he reaches her he places his hands, shakily, upon her shoulders.

"...You've given me a great gift, Allura. An even though I'm not your Darin, I can feel him inside. Tethered. Unsure. You broke Luke's hold over me and now, thanks to you, I can do what's right..."

He leans in and gives her a gentle kiss on the forehead. The most he can muster.

"I have to do what I have to do. But your Darin's still out there...and I'm sure he needs you..."