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f20202020-09-15 12:53 am
- allison hargreeves ⧓ krakoa,
- anders ⧒ the white tower,
- beckett mariner ⧓ twin cities,
- cecelia ardenbury ⧓ olin vale,
- count dooku ⧓ the white tower,
- david alleyne ⧓ krakoa,
- declan lynch ⧓ sanctum aurorae,
- finn onaru ⧒ the white tower,
- fuu hououji ⧓ eden,
- jin bubaigawara ⧒ twin cities,
- jonathan walsh ⧓ northwestern imperium,
- kang ⧓ seekers of the new dawn,
- kylo ren ⧓ sanctum aurorae,
- lucina ⋈ ␣,
- luther hargreeves ⧓ krakoa,
- midnighter ⧒ the white tower,
- number five hargreeves ⧓ krakoa,
- padmé amidala ⧓ luminary,
- pepper potts ⋈ the white tower,
- rey ⧓ the white tower,
- ronan lynch ⧓ sanctum aurorae,
- rude ⧒ olin vale,
- stephen strange ⧓ the white tower,
- tony stark ⧓ the white tower,
- wei wuxian ⧓ house of m,
- wen ning ⋈ house of m,
- xue yang ⧓ sanctum aurorae
SEPTEMBER 14TH, 2020: THE SYNOD IS CONVENING.
THE SYNOD
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.
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
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.
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.
I. Check-in
[She's used to the warm, radiant feeling of quintessence — of life energy. But she can hardly think of a time that she felt so much of it at once. Not even when she embraced the White Lion spirit, and had her mind awoken to Altean alchemy — it's as if a star briefly flared to life somewhere in the convention hall behind her.]
[But she's lost track of it by the time she turns around, and she's left swiveling her head about, looking from one imPort to another, trying to figure out if one of them might have been the culprit.]
[Her eyes settle on the white wolf, conspicuous even among imPorts...]
[Which is adorable and looks incredibly soft. Can she pet it?? Can she???]
[She needs to get its attention somehow. But that ball is already very enticing, and all she's armed with at the moment is... an identical stress ball. Can she get a game of fetch going with just this?]
[Well, an idea crosses her mind. She channels a bit of energy into the ball, and then... holds it up, whistling for the wolf's attention.]
Here! Do you want my ball, too?
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As Allura catches the wolf's attention, and it raises its head to lock eyes with her, the appearance of the creature seems to change, but only for a beat. A blink, and the image is gone, though its aura is still as brilliant ever. A trick of the light, perhaps? One can't be sure, but at the least Ammy seems to stop, and the ball she was holding falls from her jaws as they fall open to hang stupidly as she simply stares back a moment. Oh...g-girl cute...c-cute girl... ♥ Wagging her tail, she immediately trots over, pouring on all her canine charm. Time to work it, for the sake of spending time with this pretty, and very cute girl.
She'll sit first, panting, before flopping over onto her side cutely, showing off her belly and rolling over onto her back and tucking her paws up under her chin, trying to be as enticing as possible. This glutton has eyes for food and drink, certainly but she also craves attention, and her dark eyes see only one thing right now.
AWARE OF DOG, P-PLEASE...PET DOG.]
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[But her heart swells when she sees the open invitation. The dog already trust her...!! It can't really be that easy, can it? Well, if this is a trick, Allura is going to fall for it hook, line, and sinker. Who wouldn't fall in love immediately with such a sweet and friendly animal?]
[So Allura kneels down, sets down the toy beside her, and starts rubbing the belly of Amaterasu. First with one hand, then with both. And she can't help but ask that age old question...]
Who's a good dog? Who's a good dog?? ♥
I think that link broke....rude >8\
...Is probably what all those happy noises and pants translate to, as Ammy throws her head back and smacks her tail loudly against the ground. One hand is glorious, but two is heavenly, and her back leg begin to twitch with the urge to start kicking at the air in time with her wagging tail. It's not going to be long until her willpower not to simply melt into the floor will fray like an old rope... Honestly, this is the true home of the gods, at the mercy of a beautiful woman...being pet and loved and rubbed. It'd only be truly perfect if there was food.
Ammy's fur is soft and fluffy, long strands dense and thick, even on her tummy, but that's not the strangest thing. Allura will note that the wolf is pleasantly warm to the touch as well, like a freshly laundered blanket, or a soothing bath, or...laying out in a gentle sunbeam.]