taxonomites | Entries tagged with @ osten

Scott’s marker comes back onto the map with as much pomp and circumstance as it vanished.

More strangely, his tablet doesn’t join him instantly to broadcast his misfortune. It appears nearby, resting on a tree stump out of the way, but whereas usually it delights in showcasing these moments, it remains quiet now, when perhaps he needs it most.

Five days is a long time where he’s been. He’s pale and drawn, deprived of sunlight and enough food and water. He has dark circles around his eyes, a mixture of exhaustion and bruising.

There’s no awareness of being moved again. He’s simply regaining consciousness and feeling grass and dirt rather than the metal and stone of where he’s been held, a deep ache in his head and uncomfortable pressure in his eyes.

Slowly, he reaches up, feeling over his face and flinching as his fingers poke sore skin and no visor. He has to risk it anyway, bringing his hands to his face, fingers white knuckle laced as he flickers his eyes open.

Nothing.

No light. Not in or out. No warmth over his hands.

He opens them again, fully, but nothing reaches outwards. Nothing explodes, nothing is rent apart.

Everything is dark.

He can’t see.

He snaps his head up, eyes wide and unseeing, a solid, lightless red covering them from side to side.

threelivesdown

It seems the detective, because what else could he be, hasn't improved his home security since she was here last. Either he doesn't think she'll break in again or, more likely, he doesn't really care if she does. Maybe he might even want her to break in, though that doesn't seem entirely likely. He wouldn't want to see her again - oh no, not at all.

Selina stands in the living room and looks around. When she was here last time, she wasn't exactly looking at the object here beyond what she could tell might be of importance or worth. Now she has a little more time to see what is here, to examine and explore. There isn't too much out of the ordinary - at least not for what she understands of who Sherlock is as a person. Cabinets are explored, drawers are opened and piles of things are poked.

After awhile, however, when Sherlock is not apparent, Selina gets bored.

So, she decides to take a nap. She very much is a cat in some ways.

aintnoconvict

Glitch is minding his own business, sitting at a drafting table in the workshop, tapping his pencil and...spacing out, mostly. This is not an unfamiliar state for him and so he thinks nothing of it, nor of the music he hears coming in from outside. He taps his pencil and bobs his head to the beat since it's nice and catchy and...getting louder.

Still he thinks nothing of it until he finds himself getting up to stand expectantly, the music so loud and clear he's convinced it's not outside at all but instead coming from all around him. Then comes the realization that this has happened before and--

"Oh no," he manages, and then this happens. It's a little jerkier than his usual dancing, complex and challenging and totally nonsensical, but...

Ding goes the bell on the front counter and he's twirling across the shop floor on a dolly, walking backwards up the steps toward the office and then he's springing and flipping across the floor to perch on a bench and-- oh. Hey. This is actually fun.

Until Glitch finds himself perched on one of the big pulley hooks, hanging on to the ropes as the mechanism lifts him to the overhead catwalks. Gracefully he swings off, lands on the platform, then starts to run with intent to dive off and fly around the shop--

He shouts and stops short, gripping the railing and gasping for breath. The music's gone as suddenly as it started and he shakes his head, thoroughly freaked out.

Once he's composed himself Glitch takes the stairs back to the floor and snatches up his tablet, turning on the visual in order to get the word out. Problem being whatever he'd planned to say vanishes and instead he finds himself singing.

"This is a public service anouncement, this is only a test," he begins, then grimaces and shakes his head again. "Okay, no, everyone...I dunno if it's happened to anyone else yet but that thing that happened a couple annuals ago? With the compulsive singing and dancing stuff? I think it's happening again."

He takes a deep breath and starts pacing as he looks up a particular broadcast, one of the ones he's saved. "I just did this whole dance routine around the shop - not like usual, there was music coming from nowhere. Stuff like that'll happen, and you might find yourself singing about stuff that you wouldn't ordinarily share." Pause. "Like...like this thing I'm linking from last time. Um. So be prepared for that. Dunno how long it'll last so...yeah. Good luck."

And yes he is totally prepared for questions.

OOC: Musical glitch get! Also the shop is open for people coming by later or if they'd been there for his little performance or whatever \o/

Also the line he sings is the opening of Green Day's "Warning", I am so making a hamsterball post to track this stuff.

theextras

There's a new arrival at Bronte Beach, helpfully broadcast via the tablet as it sails into port. Not a new arrival in the sense of "new person with a bracelet and a lot of hysterical questions," but a definite addition to the scenery.

Some of you definitely remember it, since you were stuck on it for ten days! Dang, just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water...

The HMS Taxon floats next to a newly-appeared dock, securely moored. There is no sign of the damage sustained in the fight with the kraken or in the storm. The ship is in fine form, all the brass polished, the wood gleaming, and a gangplank decorated with streamers leads up to the deck.

Those of the Taxon citizenry who are willing to investigate their erstwhile floating prison will find that the belowdecks space seems to be an impromptu museum to your maritime odyssey.

There are oversized Polaroid images framed and hanging on all the interior hulls: images of the Taxon citizens lounging around on deck, seeking shelter from the sun, getting sunburned, examining their horrible pirate costumes, eating ship's biscuits and drinking from steins of grog. There's action shots too-- a whole wall of them-- the battle against the kraken is captured in exciting detail from a hundred angles, many of them aerial. The wreck of the ship and the various escapades fleeing said ship are also preserved for posterity-- every ungraceful jump, every bellyflop into the surf. Then the pictures of the island itself: a tropical paradise, grottos and white beaches, at least until the pygmy hamsters start showing up. The photo montage ends with shots from the Taxon party boat that become increasingly crooked, as if the unseen photographer were getting steadily sauced on Tiki Punch.

The 'photographer' seems to have had a special gift for managing to capture even heroic moments in those particular moments of 'derp face' that do seem to result. None of the photographs are terribly flattering.

In the center of the belowdecks space is a great honking big gold statue of a pygmy war-hamster, clutching a spear and waving a shield. The base of the statue is inscribed with the names of all the Taxonians who sailed the seven seas, and the inscription: IN MEMORY OF THE EXCITING PROWESS DISPLAYED BY TAXON'S CITIZENS ABOARD THE HMS TAXON AND THE ISLAND ST. TAXONOMEW.

theextras

The day of July fourth was spent dealing with annoying, static-ridden transmissions from the tablets. Hisses, bleeps, pops, and occasionally what might have been an indistinguishable voice saying something unintelligible. The interruptions ceased in the evening, and the city went back to being quiet and empty.

The fifth brought more of the same, but shortly after noon something curious happened: if one consulted the map, they'd note a dot out in the ocean. Zooming in on the dot showed that it was not one but many dots, each with a familiar name attached, and observation would show that the dots were headed toward a never-before-used ferry terminal on the Osten waterfront.

Go meet your people, Taxon, and send them to get showers post haste!

ooc: The ferry terminal is a proper building so our vampires aren't in danger of going foom.

And that's that! Thanks everyone, this plot's been ridiculous fun, now back to your regularly scheduled hijinks.

buffy_slayer

The tablet is on, and broadcasting.

Buffy doesn't care.

She's sitting on a set of stone steps that apparently lead up a short grassy hill to... nothing. Not even a stone foundation to break apart the stretch of green.

"Hi there, Taxon."

Not crying, not yet at least. There's more resignation than anything else, and Buffy's leaning her head against one hand.

"The castle is gone. Willow is gone. My stuff isn't -- the hamsters were nice enough to leave me my stuff."

A motion towards a neat stack of small boxes, each stamped with "this side up" and an arrow pointing downwards.

"I suppose that I ought to look for a new place to live."

loves_bitch

Running water is a luxury that Spike has never, ever taken for granted. It is one of the few things that he never, ever, wants to be without if he has anything to say about it. Thus, now that he has rooms in the castle, he's been using up a lot of hot water taking a shower at least once a day.

That, in fact, was what he was doing when the the Hamsters moved his rooms from a castle to a mansion. This is something that he does not discover until he heads out of his room and .... into a hallway. And not the hallway that is supposed to be outside of his bedroom.

"What the bloody hell...?"

At least this time he's not just in a towel....

no_rose_tint

"Good evening, Taxon."

Scott looks calm as he talks, assured of himself. "There's a lot of rumour of problems in the city at the moment. I just wanted to remind everyone of the offer from Charles and those of us living at this Mansion.

"You are welcome here and you safe here. We will protect you if you feel threatened. We can give you a bed to sleep in and food if you need it. We specialised in helping people who pose an uncommon threat without meaning to and we will never let anyone be hurt while under our protection."

He lifts his head slightly. "We're here and you're always welcome, day or night."

The transmission will cut, but the map will briefly flash to show everyone which building is in question, the Westchester mansion in Osten.

thepersianyouth

So it came to be, that the longer Bagoas stayed at the Northern Island, so named for its location in its home land, the less he felt comfortable within its walls. More and more he ventured out into the vast city which far outstretched the likes of Babylon, which dwarfed Susa. How long has it been since I felt the gust of air on the road to Marakanda, he would think to himself as he walked the streets in search of something he could put no name to, How long since I followed Alexander into the Oxos valley and the wind pelted sand at us for four days?

Today, his mind is filled with troubling thoughts that no amount of memories soothe. His mind goes again and again to the boy with fire in his eyes, whom he at first mistook as an elemental.

He stands watching one of the few familiar structures he's found so far, the young man's jacket folded against his chest.

If only there was a way to contact him, if he's still out there...

[ooc: Backdated to a few days ago, before the sh*t hit the fan with DG and stuff. Mainly for Party Poison, but others are also welcome, preferably set to before him and Bagoas meet up.]

aintnoconvict

Right, this needed doing. Glitch ran his fingers over his zipper, made sure his collar was smooth, then turned on his tablet.

"Good morning, fellow citizens of Taxon," he began. "I know most of you but for the few I don't: I'm called Glitch, I've been here two and a half annuals - years - and...that means I've been here longest. There were others before but they've all been sent home so now there's just me." Pause. "And DG and Drusilla, we all came around the same time. But the point is--"

Oh this was awkward. He walked toward his workbench. "I'm a scientist - chemistry and physics, mostly, but I dabble - a mechanic, and an inventor. In my homeland I was the queen's head adviser and...and I want to help here. I've been here a long time and and I know a lot of stuff and I know we don't really have leaders here but...I think I'm qualified."

That seemed like a good moment to sit down, which he did after setting the tablet on the table. Predictably the action was accompanied by a distinctly flatulent sound. Glitch's eye went wide, his pale cheeks turned rosy, and he leaped up again to inspect the chair. With a sigh he snatched up a deflated whoopee cushion and glanced upward.

"Funny." He sat down again, carefully, and cleared his throat. "Not that I'm declaring myself king of town here or anything, I just feel responsible. For stuff. So if there's anything you want to know about what happens or has happened in Taxon, ask me. Or DG. You can try Dru but it'll probably be stuff about star pixies or whatever. If you'd rather do so in person, I'm in the shop all day-- oh! Scott, there was the thing about the crystal, right? Now's a good time for that. And, um, one more thing, on a kinda selfish note."

He held up the whoopee cushion. "Can we...maybe not call the weird stuff that happens glitches anymore? It predates me being here but I can't tell you what it's like having your name associated with stupid pranks or your friends turning evil and hurting people."

brokenoptimism

"Hello?"

The mansion is quiet but for a few strange minds he has never touched before and Charles is curious. Not frightened. Just curious. He found the baseball bat where he always kept it, slightly disturbed by the gun resting a hand's reach closer. Where had that come from? Guns were dreadful things.

"Mother?"

Bat firmly in hand he padded barefoot down the stairs, barely aware of the bracelet on his wrist, projecting his image to anyone in Taxon who cared to look.

"Who is there? I know you are here. I can hear you."

longaevus

It had been a few days since everyone had returned, since the chaos of what had occurred had ended. And someone was missing. It would have been easy to notice in a place of this size but for Helen this person was hard to miss - he'd been living with her.

And she cared.

She'd made certain to check when everything had ended, sending first a text to his tablet before checking every room in the Sanctuary. She'd left it a few days before openly checking the network, giving him chance to reply or for him to show up in the Sanctuary.

And he hadn't.

It made Helen worry; if he hadn't returned was anyone else trapped? And if not... she could still think of him, still worry unlike when she hadn't seen James for some time. This was different, and it wasn't good.

When Helen flicked on her tablet, using voice rather than visual (she didn't know quite how composed she was, announcing (asking) something like this was different to a thought, she kept her query short; keeping it concise.

"It's been a little time since you returned from what occurred, and hopefully those that were affected are well and unharmed?" She paused briefly, giving enough of a pause to be polite before moving on.

"I was wondering if anyone had seen a man named Dwight Hendrickson whilst they were there, or after they'd returned?" If not... it would be obvious, she thought, as to what had happened.

Helen left it there, not adding on her further thought of 'I haven't heard from him since' to it. She hoped that the worst hadn't occurred.

Helen shut off her tablet, shrinking it back down to pocket size before letting out a soft sigh. It had been a long time since she'd felt this; loss was one thing but these feelings attached? Picking her tablet up Helen slipped it into her jacket pocket, exitting her office - she needed to think.

theextras

It has been a week (or so) give or take of harrowing adventures for those citizens unfortunate enough to have been caught up the project's bad code. Fortunately, the aliens have worked out a solution of sorts.

The time has come to find your door and open it, meander your very simple maze of servers and blinking technological wizardry, report your findings, and then emerge back in the "real" city for touching reunions and all the free drinks ever.

ooc: IC plot wrapping! tag in, tag enough other, puzzle out mysteries and propose ridiculous theories. as usual you can backtag the event until the crack of doom.

no_rose_tint

As the sun started to think about rising above the horizon, Scott was already up and about, standing at the mansion gates and stretching himself out. In the haze of pre-dawn his eyes glowed ominously, blood red light that spilled from his glasses and over his skin and clothing as he moved, limbering up for his morning run.

It was a brief time that it felt like being home. The world was still and slightly chilled, even to his heated skin. There were barely any people, the streets washed shades of black and pink to his monochromatic vision.

He took off running, an easy job down the road and away from the mansion, picking up pace as he hit the level. His footsteps slapped out a rapid beat as he ran, listening to the stillness and his slowly increasing breath.

Anything but thinking. Pushing himself had always been his relaxation from his racing mind and after a night of more interrupted sleep and nightmares that were more memory than imagination, he desperately wanted nothing more than to push himself to his physical limits, where the only thing on his mind was pushing out another step, dragging in another breath.

Then the world shifts.

He's survived this many years by being aware of the tiny things and it has him skidding to a halt, looking around sharply. The flickering could have been his imagination, but he knows in his gut it wasn't, that he just saw the world crackle and guiltily, his first thought is to suspect that something has gone horribly wrong with Madelyn. It's unfair, but the fear still sits there, that she'll snap again and everything will go wrong all over again.

Then he hears a childish shriek that draws off into giggles. Giggles that he will never forget in his life and are impossible for him to hear.

"Nathan?!" He spins on his heel, the sound seeming to echo around him. "Nathan?!"

The shriek comes from another direction and he hears little footsteps slapping on the pavement. He's moving without thinking, chasing after the sound. "Nathan!"

"Dada!" The giggling comes from behind him this time; even as he turns, he knows that Nathan won't be there, something is playing with his head.

"Stop it! I'm not playing this game, Nathan's gone." He stands his ground, hands curling into fists before one rises to touch the stem of his glasses. "Stop it!"

"Madelyn was gone too, Scott. Madelyn. Nathan. Jean. But they never stay gone, do they?"

He knew that voice. His body felt like lead as he moved up to the window, staring at his reflection.

It watched him, tattooed lips curled into an ugly smirk, concussive energy wisping from its eyes in a bloody smoke. One hand rested down low, stroking Nathan's pale hair back, controlling the virus that had taken his son from him.

"No!"

His reflection smiled back. "I'm never gone, First-Among-Equals. Least of all in this place. Perhaps it is time Nathan and I went and visited Mom."

He tore off his glasses with a scream of animal rage. Nathan's eyes were blue as the glass shattered around him and he swore he felt something rush from the reflection at him, something other than the terror from his little boy.

He didn't have time to think about it, as pain struck through his head and he reeled backwards, crashing to the pavement in a rain of glass, bricks and blood from the cuts the glass had torn in his skin.

He hit the asphalt on his back, glasses falling from his fingers. Unconscious, he didn't feel the blue ink leeching over his skin, from his ears along the underside of his cheekbones, down to the corners of his mouth and lastly over his lips to form a single, unbroken line.

Current Location: Streets of Osten

brokenoptimism

"I keep thinking perhaps it would be in my interest to find a job here, but it seems like such a foreign idea under the circumstances. Still... it doesn't appear I will be going anywhere anytime soon."

Charles looks tired, leaning forward in one of the larger chairs in his study. It's been a long and confusing couple of months and he's finally come to the conclusion that holing up in the Mansion is getting him nowhere fast, nor does it seem like the hamsters have any intention of sending him home.

He frowns and sits back up, running a hand through his hair and looking off to the side.

"I'm not really sure, anymore, if I will ever see the people I have lost, again, but I realize that we are all in a similar situation here." There's a soft sound of him clearing his throat and he looks back at the camera with an intent expression, hiding the uncertainty in bright blue eyes as best he can.

"The doors of this mansion are open to any who seek help, a place to stay, or the comfort of the companionship of others." After a pause, a crease in his brow appears and a darker look casts over his face. "If you come here with ill intentions, be warned. Anyone who passes through these doors with the intent to harm another will find no mercy here."

A short time after this message goes out, and the feed ends, another message goes out to anyone with abilities that Charles has had contact with so far, or may have caught a mental glimpse of at some point. It is entirely up to you whether your character hears it or not.

This mansion was once intended to be a school for people such as yourselves. Should ever you need my help, or a place to stay, you are welcome here.

And a few moments later, directed to Scott.

Scott, I think it's time I reopened the school. The number of other mutants seems to be growing lately, and I believe it would be in our benefit for everyone to work together if we are ever to escape this place. If you are willing, your help would be appreciated.

theextras

It was February, and as the aliens had learned it was a time for hearts, flowers, candy, and being open about one's feelings. True, it was supposed to be all romantic and mushy feelings, but where was the fun in that?

For a few days surrounding February fourteenth, the citizens may find themselves experiencing their emotions a bit more intensely than usual. And expressing these feelings may seem like the best possible idea. Good luck, Taxon.

[ OOC: log post thing for the heightened emotions system glitch running from now to the sixteenth! Feel free to make your own posts, but treat this as a catch-all. Have at! ]

blue_bird

The tablet flickers and the God-King appears on screen, her face frozen in an expression of deep thought. Around her is darkness, so much so that only the fitful lights of stars illuminate her face; the blue tints in the hollows of her cheeks and neck melt in with the blackness.

"I have not seen such a place before," she speaks to no one, though she knows the filthy bit of machine is listening, as it always listens. "I have walked worlds upon worlds and ruled them all, and saw the lights and moons of many." Her gaze is upwards and there is reverence within it, but her voice sharpens suddenly, as if there has been some great insult. "But this is a mere fabrication. An attempt to replicate what should be intangible and unknown."

And yet... its beauty remains, though it could not be captured fully. It is like a reflection--a mirror image of truth and yet not so.

"What is its purpose? To provide comfort for those who miss what they were? To inspire nostalgia?" She begins to pace, slowly, eyes tracing the various designs and patterns outlined in the fake night sky. "Or to torment? What role does such a place fulfill in this gilded cage?"

brokenoptimism

Is it routine to lose track of large pieces of time around here?

[Normally he would not venture to ask, but, well, he had noticed others refer vaguely to it, and losing chunks of time was always rather concerning. Someone may have been tampering with his mind. He knew all too well how possible that was.

It had been a week and he still could not remember anything from the few weeks prior to that. Nor could he find any locked memories within his own mind. Either there was another powerful telepath here, or he had 'skipped' some time.]

Current Mood: Concerned
Current Location: Westchester Mansion

hawksandbullets

Lt. Riza Hawkeye was out on patrol again tonight. She wasn't expecting to find anything, though looking around really couldn't hurt. There was still a chance her captors have missed something, or that there was a weak point in their defenses that could lead to gaining valuable information somehow. You had to start somewhere, right?

The time Riza has been here has been spent on finding a place to stay and obtaining a job. She happened to find some cheap apartments strangely similar to her own back in Central. For now, she's also taken a job at a local coffee shop. Certainly not in her normal line of work, but it would do. She would get paid enough to take care of herself and Black Hayate, and she had plenty of free time to do her own investigative work, at least until she was able to find a way to start working for the furry little abominations directly. That was the plan for now, anyway.

On this particular evening, Riza found herself in the southern district of Osten. The first landmark she saw was a large castle about two miles from the perimeter of the city. She decided to start there and work her way back north. Black HAyate, of course, followed right at her heels.

Current Mood: busy

unnaturalpause

With a yawn he woke up.

...Wait woke up? When had he, what had, just what was going on? He shouldn't be asleep, he had been working on something, and then. Well now he was in his room and just when in the world was it? Not where, he knew that, but how long had he been out?

Which meant bypassing the normal routine of checking over his appearance to see if he was presentable, to pick up the tablet. May as well, check in, make sure they knew he was alive and still here (however much he hated that part really even if he was going to well, die back home) after all.

So turning the tablet on visual, slightly messed hair and wrinkled clothes, James spoke. "I seem, to have, been indisposed of for some time," that was a polite way to put it, "would anyone care to, share what I seem to have missed these last few weeks?"