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

[pillz]

I'd be happy to look at it and give notes, [kavinsky says, stepping into the door, which slides shut behind him. he's dressed in white, because of course he always is. messaging. image. these things are as much his life as well as the ugly truths that live underneath them.]

But I wanted to ask you about our alliance with Krakoa.

[part of messaging, image is that you phrase things as 'our alliance with krakoa' when you actually mean 'so that time you kidnapped my friend and lover, a year ago, and didn't tell me, the liaison.']

I learned that I've been left out of a major covert operation against their leadership, and moving forward that's going to affect my diplomatic work with them. [i.e., where i put my weiner maybe? mr. stark? he sits down on the seat across from tony, nudging his ar glasses up higher on his nose, and manages to appear perfectly professional. we're all mad here.]

[houseparty]

( The High Chancellor does not look up from his tablet for a moment, too disciplined to, continuing to review the edited notes and inserting another line. Who told him doesn't matter; he'll find out regardless. )

That operation was need-to-know. I needed you, ( closing the tablet cover with a soft snap, ) to not know; to have plausible deniability.

[pillz]

[kavinsky narrows his eyes slightly. he suspects this is some kind of insinuation about him going soft, his judgment being compromised, and that's bad fuckin' news to anybody at the tower, never mind someone so close to the top.

it's too early to level that accusation, but it's not hard to see it in the way kavinsky leans back, folding his arms.]

And how about the strategic necessity of the operation at all? I have good intel on Krakoa, as their official liaison. [with anyone else, he'd phrase it as a question, sarcastic. but he affords the high chancellor more respect than that, even when he mad.]

[houseparty]

( Stark sits back in his seat, sliding his fingers against the edge of the tablet.

Quite frankly, he doesn't give a fuck if Kavinsky were sleeping with Josh Foley, with David Alleyne, with half the imPorts on the island. Some of the best intelligence was gained between the sheets; tête-à-têtes in the afterglow. )

And as their liaison, Joseph, ( soft, so dangerously soft, ) You should bring every piece of that intel to me. So why did I have to hear from a third party that they were smuggling children out of the City?

[pillz]

[ah.

kavinsky didn't know that.

he hides it well. he stays still as stone. his face doesn't move. his breathing stays on-rhythm. anyone else would have a hard time telling. but tony doesn't even need to connect to kavinsky's ar glasses with his powers to tell that something is off. the very air around kavinsky changes.]

ImPort or native children?

[the question is clipped. he's embarrassed. and he knows he should be.]

[houseparty]

( He's struck a nerve; he knows Kavinsky too well. Stark lifts his fingers from the device's edge: Stop.

This time he sits forward, placing the tablet on the seat cushion at his side, the picture of calm, easy confidence, while his voice never carries over that smooth softness. They're only a handful of feet apart; there's no need to be loud while he nips the common Krakoan excuse in the bud. )

A sixteen year old imPort, who's never had powers before, never knew a home, a life, beyond what she- or he -was torn away from, needs just as much looking after as any native-born kid. More so, because they stand a greater chance of hurting themselves or others. You know as well as I, how much the White Tower does to support these kids longterm, the resources we utilize to make sure they have a future.

Does it really matter where they're from, if they go missing?

[pillz]

No, [kavinsky says. it takes him a minute to say it, but it's not because he's begrudging tony the truth. of course it's true!

kavinsky is the white tower's kool-aid marketing expert. and you can't market the kool-aid if you don't drink it yourself.]

No, it doesn't.

[kavinsky's angry, suddenly. at josh. it's not anger he'll be able to show the mutant, at least-- certainly not so soon after his trauma. but it's anger nonetheless. of course he knows josh hides things from, lies to him-- just as he expects stark to do the same, really. but josh looks at him, talks sentimental, makes himself out to be different in so many ways.

but they all play the same game. kavinsky doesn't uncross his arms, studying tony.]

We still don't have no official stance now that the operation's over, I take it. That's my plausible deniability right there?

[houseparty]

'Josh Foley was captured and detained by a rogue agent,' ( he recites, as easy as reading off a prompter, ) 'Despite the intervention of the High Chancellor himself, Mr. Foley's fragile condition precluded immediate evacuation. We thank his fellow Krakoans for their bravery and ingenuity in assisting with his care and release, and hope for his speedy recovery.'

( Stark settles back in his seat, unruffled, and spares a glance out the shielded window, seeing nothing. His gaze slides back onto Kavinsky. ) If his council knows any better- and I expect they won't -they'll stick with the script. We have enough evidence of their actions, and enough heartfelt testimonies and tearful pleas of heartbroken foster parents to make the next few years a PR nightmare for them.

[pillz]

[kavinsky folds his arms. like an angry and imposing politician, not a sulking child, in case that wasn't clear. he looks at tony levelly through the ar glasses, his expression rigid.

he's listening, of course. he's processing. listening. filing information away in his head. checking that he can't hear anyone else coming, anywhere near them, before he says:]

Did you exclude me from the operation because you distrust my competence and judgment? [there. he said it! no take-backs. he stares at the older man hard, analytics scrolling past furiously in his periphery.] Was that a factor in your decision?

[houseparty]

( Like a fucking asshole, he turns that around: )

Should it have been, Joseph? ( Stark's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly behind his glasses. ) Could you have stopped yourself from seeing him? For the City? For me?

[pillz]

[the implication prickles him. it's not entirely unlike the feeling that drove him once to try and electrocute stark in his own bathtub, to at least make that gesture. but the opposite side of it; complementary. just as ugly.

kavinsky's face is cold.]

I would have taken him for you. Kept him. I'dve done a better job than whoever you put on the operation. I would've used what we had, and he wouldn'tve gotten away. [is it anger? hurt? offense split into both denominations? whatever it is, it paints his face with something like a sneer, daring tony to deny it.] I'm more loyal to you than you are to yourself, High Chancellor.