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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.
Finn Onaru | OTA
Finn thought about making up an excuse as to why he couldn't go, but as a council member, he's expected to make an appearance. Finn takes a seat in the car, idly drawing on his sketchpad while he rides. He's still having trouble wrapping his head around all this, what with him being a dictator and part of the bad guys. This is just what his mentor warned him about. Once he gets hungry, he makes his way to the buffet car, grabbing himself a tart and some wine, and sitting down at one of the small tables.
Convention
Finn wanders about the convention for a while, looking at everything. Perhaps this will help him blend in if he knows what's going on or what technologies are being proposed. He has to say, some of them sound pretty interesting, if only they were in better hands. The books in particular, if he had those back in his reality, he'd never leave the house boat. "I wonder if any of these book can make me better at sculpting."
He also makes sure to attend an expo, especially Count Dooku's. He still remembers this guy from before he got ported out, and the big murder he contracted Finn and Lucien for a couple of years ago. Finn listens carefully, but refrains from asking anything. He's still unsure of what his other self would ask, and he can do more good if nobody knows he's not the Finn Onaru that they know.
Party
Dinner sees Finn dressing in a regal blue, knee-length robe and opting for some fancy seafood dish, since apparently this other version of him wouldn't be caught dead eating at a casual diner. He asked his personal chef to make him a taco the other day, and she made him a gourmet version of one. Thus, seared fish and a salad for him. He still takes some hot sauce from the table and drips some onto his fish, and sneaked a few peppers into his salad.
Later, he makes his way into the ballroom. It might help him blend in if he dances or makes small talk with his fellow imPorts. After all, he's the ruler of a small portion of Florida. Anyone is free to come up and chat or ask him for a dance. Later, he can be found taking a small break from socializing, leaning against the wall and keeping his head low. Sometimes he dislikes being the only Dunmer in the world.
Ballroom
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He walks over to the corner, glancing at another fellow who apparently had the same idea. At first, he's ready to just brush the man off, but then he does a double take. Even hooded, Finn recognizes the man. Approaching the hooded man, Finn whispers, "Love?"
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Assuming this is some ploy to pull at his emotions, to try and lure him into doing what he knows to be the wrong thing, Jonathan answers, "No. Whatever you want, the answer is no."
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"Listen to me, I'm not who you think I am. What I'm about to tell you might sound crazy, but I wear on my ancestors and Azura herself that it's true. I'm from another reality."
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"Fine," he says, and in a voice so low it's almost a hiss, he adds, "Then prove it to me. Help me bring down the White Tower."
While he's careful not to be overheard, he's not afraid of Finn hearing him, because his Finn already knew. It was only his lingering feelings for Jonathan that kept him trying to recruit him back instead of just dragging him back to be tortured. It would take a lot to know for sure, and Finn could still just end up operating as a double agent, and Jonathan's probably being foolish, just hoping to have things go back to the way they were before the power went to Finn's head but...he still can't keep himself from hoping.
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At least Jonathan is giving him a chance, which is more than he can ask for. He glances around, making sure nobody is looking at them.
"I don't like the person I became in this reality."
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He didn't think he'd ever be able to be with Finn again without giving up every last shred of his conscience. He won't give this Finn any secrets, just in case it's a trap, but it can't hurt to share what he knows.
"Do you want to go somewhere more private? We could head up to my room. If anyone asks, you can tell them you've finally lured me back into your bed."
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"Sure, we can do that. Might be safer."
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Read: he's with the Resistance, so is fine if he hears anything they'll be talking about. He just might have to explain very quickly why he has a higher up from the White Tower in their room.
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Once they're in Jonathan's room, Finn relaxes, letting himself take a more casual stance when compared to the way he held himself down in the ballroom.
"I know this can't be easy, and I know you had a good reason to leave me, or him, or whoever. Though, I've also gotten the impression that the other me still wanted you back."
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And the worst part is, part of Jonathan wanted to. It would be so comfortable, so easy. He could have even lived a life of luxury. But...it's just like with the Reptilian invasion. He couldn't accept any of it and still live with what he was a part of.
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The other him must have been in serious denial if he forgot Jonathan's history in his own world and didn't see that coming. Or perhaps he was just arrogant enough to think Jonathan would choose him over doing the right thing. Finn tries not to dwell on it, since it won't matter if he can't help fix things.
"In my reality, you and I live on a boat, and we own a cat."
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Sure, there are others in the Resistance, he has friends and allies, but...it's not the same as what he and Finn could have in a reality where Finn wasn't corrupted by power.
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"I'm afraid I don't know much about the inner workings of the White Tower, but I can tell you guys what I can and hope that it helps."
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And part of him longs for a world where that would still rank in the 'terrible things Finn has done'.
"That would be great, yeah. I mean, anything could help, right?"
Even if not, it's good just having Finn on their side.
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