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Owner	Pose
Arthur Lowell	Arthur's invitation takes everyone, via one of his spirographic Gates, past the desert above and into an interior space immediately. Long halls and blank rooms mark the way in. The main walls, floors, and ceilings are concrete, composed of a grid of blocks or perhaps panels like tile, with every third block featuring a simple square buzzing lamp. Each cell of the grid is marked "1X1M SOLID GEOMETRY FLOOR TEXTURE" or "1X1M SOLID GEOMETRY WALL TEXTURE", repeated constantly. All the main architecture surfaces are a flat, dull gray. At the top of one of the walls, strict, blocky text has been painted on in large fonts declares the room's various aspects: "-9.8M/S^2 'SAFE' GRAVITY ZONE", "DATA NON-DUMP INSTANCE, MEMORY RECYCLING", and "UNSUPERVISED LUDOGENICS PROHIBITED".     An elevator takes them elsewhere; Arthur presses a button on its panel labeled "LUDOGENESIS". And that floor is much the same, but like a tumorously massive office complex grew into a city. The holographic screen-windows from before line the massive interior, making it look as though it has a sky. Every building is used to store more workspace, but every workstation seems to have once been used. There are even vehicles down here, old Skaianet-marked smart-cars clearly meant for navigating long, long underground stretches of concrete.     NULLBODIES, odd humanoid shapes of varying RED, GREEN, or BLUE colors with full-body wireframe where skin ought to be -- that is, not SKULLBODIES seen before, so long ago -- are found around the streets. Most are at the desks, working away at something with a palpable sense of nervousness. And Nullbodies with odd black or white geometric heavy armor, with strange crystaline weapons of all sorts, both modern melee and modern ranged sorts, are on patrol. The Nullbodies don't respond to the new visitors except in the most bland, silent ways like briefly waving, unlike the Skullbodies (which, of course, responded with mindless copycat-violence).     Arthur heads to one of the desks, which is stationed near a door leading into one of the facilities. It's sitting behind incredibly thick glass. If one examines the one-foot-thick slab of concrete it's set into, one might find the office within is geometrically impossible, and cannot, in fact, actually exist, since there's at least twelve feet of office space behind the window. Still, Arthur approaches, pounds a fist on the window, and shouts, "HEY SHITHEAD! Turn on the fuckin' OEUVRE PUMP and let me into the DECOMPRESSION CHAMBER already. I FIXED YOUR SHIT FOR YOU."     The thin, aged man inside, wearing a jet-black suit, smiles, brightly. Unlike his hairline, there's no retreat from him. He answers in a friendly way. "Answer is still 'nope'! I need to see some credentials." He doesn't speak up to the others just yet.     The desk name plate declares his name to be "MISTER WELCOMES".
Alexis	Alexis takes a look around as the group makes there way from the spirographic gate to where Arthur needs them to go. "Yup. This is still pretty damn weird even with my experiences. And this is just the beginning." Not that it tapers her stride any. I mean, really, she's a Pokemon Trainer. Trapsing around someone else's complex looking for that one thing in the one place usually behind some manner of trap puzzle and moving floors is just another day wandering into a Team bunker of some kind. No moving floors or telepad mazes. Yet. Alexis isn't holding her breath on that. She knows better. They finally reach what is clearly an OVERCOMPENSATION OFFICE and Arthur starts yelling with the 'receptionist'. Her attention glances to the deskplate for a moment. Then back to Arthur and 'Mister Welcomes' already shouting. "Yeah, that name is clearly false advertising." For a moment she lets the two yell, and gives the window seperating the group from the office a rap with her knuckles. Is it glass, or something else?
Arthur Lowell	It's definitely "glass". There's almost no vibratory yield to it, none of the "tonk tonk tonk" and plenty of the "crack". Transparent and glassy though it may be, there's a very good chance that "Mister Welcomes" isn't here in traditional senses of geometry. He speaks to Arthur, "There are others waiting for my help now, if you don't mind!" To Alexis, "Hi there! Can I help you?"
Ioanna Langstrom	Even super-elevators are kind of a pain in the ass.      The whole place is unpleasant. Just, unpleasant to look at. The long-dead smart cars and the constant flow of workspaces from building to building, unbroken chains of 'more, more, more', tumors in the ground, they're an unpleasant post-modern ghostscape, a deadland parody of a rough 20th-century world. It's like looking at Hell but for other people.      Ioanna Langstrom, after all, didn't grow up in a twentieth-century world. She's studied them, sure, but she wasn't raised in one. The disgust is thus distant and casual, the sort of disgust you see on people looking at particularly foul art. She's walking through a busted museum of the excesses of office culture. She's lucky it's already dead; if it was alive and grinding away at what remained of its own world, she'd probably be struggling real hard with her professionalism. Something about watching this sort of thing destroy history. Probably that whole 'Masters' degree' thing.      The Alter Gear hasn't been kind on this world. Ioanna Langstrom, as soon as she passes through Arthur's Gate and is deposited unceremoniously into the world, is wearing a set of what could generously be called post-apocalyptica chiq, if one was to put a name to such a thing. There's no gas mask hiding her face (which continues to look a great deal like Artoria Pendragon's, save her eyepatch), but a(n apparently) useless targetting lens settled over her eyepatch. Her very generous curves are almost, but not quite, hidden under layers of rags and remnants of corporate clothes, pieces of old tuxedos and ties draped over leather and buckled-on car part armor.      A pair of cat ears have appeared on her head for absolutely no discernable reason. They twitch every so often.      Slung over her shoulder is a massive, rusted stop sign, larger than she is. It could probably kill someone.      She sort of stands behind and beside Arthur. She has some strong soldier energy to her, the sort of powerful military lady that comes from years and years and years of experience with the worst layer of the Multiverse.      So immediately after she leans forward and smiles at Mr. Welcomes, she purses her lips and frowns.      And then she wields the most powerful weapon an attractive woman can possibly use against someone in a corporate environment:      "Sorry, but I'm a little unsatisfied with your service. Would you mind letting me speak to your manager?"
Eryl Fairfax	Eryl, of all people, strides from the portals created by Arthur. Teaching up to tighten his tie, he nods wordlessly to the other attendees. He looks to the floor textures, then to the wall textures, then to the little sign above. "'Ludogenics.' Created by game huh?"     As he rides in the elevator, Original Face passively crunches numbers. If this whole area is made from this 1x1 metre panels, what is the volume of the building based on the speed the elevator moves?     In LUDOGENESIS, he responds to the beif waves from the Nullbodies with one of his own. Spotting the unhelpful Mister Welcomes, Eryl strides over to the desk and says, "Credentials? Will this do?" He brandishes his Paladin Grandmaster badge for the receptionist.
Tamamo	Unaware of what she'll find, apart from that it is alleged to be like nothing she's yet seen, Tamamo arrives in her most ready-for-anything battle dress -- flowing blue and black robes with white and gold trim, gold ornaments, outrageously tall geta, and enough hanging sleeves to hide her hands for days. She makes quite a noticeable tapping on tile floors.     "Mr. Lowell," she says, inclining her head by way of greeting. It's the usual formality of expression, together with the usual dress, though he might remember times she said something else. "This place has a rather peculiar construction. Are the labels so placed for such an event as the walls and floors coming apart?" She hopes they control for things like that, given she has no idea what's past meter-cubes. Destructible environments on other worlds can lead to danger.     They're led down to an office, or rather, to a place just outside an office. "Mister Welcomes, is it?" She waits until Eryl's offer receives a reply, saving 'For what credentials do you wait?' in case he gets a 'no.'
Staren	Staren is particularly cheerful as she arrives and running-jumps through the gate! Greeting Arthur, she goes for a fistbump and tries to keep up with the handshake, but is following his lead rather than remembering a bunch of complicated steps.     When she steps out of the elevator, her eyes widen at how BIG this area is. "Woooah. I had no idea... how did Skaianet do all this in secret?" She starts warping in drones to scout the area, little coconut-sized spheres with lenses, antennae, and hoverjets.     Staren looks around as she follows Arthur, tail swishing lazily, until they come to the problematic office. Staren isn't fazed by the space warping after seeing what those windows do. She hmmms briefly at the exchange, then walks up to the window, pulls a pad of paper from her bag and scribbles on it, then holds the piece of paper and a pile of IDs, some outdated (Lazlo citizen ID, Lazlo Defense Force ID, Lazlo citizen reserves ID, Union Elite Forces ID, League ID, Concord ID, Tomorrow Legion ID (?!)) up to the window. The piece of paper says 'username: user password: password' in case a different kind of credentials was meant.     "There. We have shown you 'some credentials'. If you don't now let us in, you were *lying*." She's trying to sound firm, but it comes out like a child playing smartass word games. Still, worth a shot, right?
Gareth	"Modern geometry really is something..." Gareth comments with wide-eyed curiosity as she wanders trhrough those hallways, squinting at the repeated ceels and the text displayed on the floors and walls. She's wearing her usual beige doublet and green undershirt along with a matching brown cap as though she had expected more sunlight to get in her eyes before coming here. "Definitely... Something. It's pretty drab, though, yes?" She very obviously has no idea what she's looking at or what two thirds of any of these words mean. Arthur does, though, so she just follows behind him, eager to just gawk at everything as though she might passively absorb some of it by the end of this. The smart cars are easy enough to identify, at least, and she makes a mental note to check those out if the group ever heads in that direction. The Nullbodies are greeted with similarly brief waves, and the Skullbodies get violence back in turn. Mister Welcomes, meanwhile, gets an eager greeting at that initial smile as she chuckles lightly at Alexis' reaction to him. "Hello! It's good to meet you. Credentials? I haven't gotten an ID of my own yet. Does it help if I'm with everyone else here?" She grins sheepishly while digging in her pockets, looking for anything that might be useful. As Eryl brings out his badge, she looks at it, then him, then goes starry eyed while putting several things together. "Ah! You're the leader of the Paladins! And that means..." Her gaze jumps from him to Ioanna and Tamamo next, looking between them several times. "Are you with him as well?" She asks while looking the trio over and just gawking at them like she's seeing something amazing.
Arthur Lowell	Mr. Welcomes speaks to Ioanna in helplessly friendly tones. "Mmmmh, that'd be tough. I don't think there's any open communications lines between here and the Universal Coalition. You'll want to talk to your own local equivalent. The... I think they were called the 'Unity'?" He scratches his head. "Sorry, my memory's been a little shoddy since I moved out of the Homeworld."     He peers at the Paladin Grandmaster badge and starts typing away. "Paladins. Hmmm, this might work. I *do* want to let you guys through, you know, it's just, rules are rules. Does your organization have any history with causal stability regulation? Knots in time-space, retrocausal obliterations, that sort of business."     He swivels his office-chair to Tamamo. "Due to some of the ~sensitivity~ of canon-related matters, we need to make sure that the Secundus frontier isn't accessed without organizational qualifications from people who can keep a timeline straight. That's what my boss told me, at least! Can't let anyone through without credentials. What's the most recent spatiotemporally-exotic situation the 'Paladins' handled? I can look you up."     He looks at Staren's credentials, then squints a little more, double-taking. His smile widens, abruptly. "'Staren'... Oh! Are you his daughter or something like that? I can see the resemblance. How's that wonderful fellow doing? I could swear it's been at least, what, six years? Seven? Goodness, been ages since we talked. Never did get to say goodbye before the Homeworld shut down."
Ioanna Langstrom	"Oh," Ioanna says immediately, "You mean the Union."      Immediately, she digs into one of the many, many pockets the Alter Gear has generously given her. She produces a Union military badge. "Ioanna Langstrom, Union Armed Forces, sir." She straightens. Her cat ears twitch slightly. "If that's the case, then I'm afraid I might be the highest-ranking Union member on-world, sir; Mr. Welcomes."      "At least with any identification."
Featherman Neo	The elevator dings again, a bit after the rest of the group arrives. Out strides a man in a red suit, with a birdlike helmet, a white chest 'flare' underneath red armor, white boots and gloves, and golden flairs to both, with a red cape flourished over him. He wears a fancy belt, with a strange locket-like item inside of it, similar to those worn by Kamen Riders only in aesthetic. Two fancy pistols are holstered at his side, as is a fancy red combat knife. "Everyone, your problems will soon be solved, through the power of teamwork! The vermillion bird has flown in! The ace hero out to win your heart! A friend to all children! A friend to all of you!" He strikes a pose, hand over his mask with the other arm stretched out. "FEATHERMAAAANNNNN NEO!" And then, he strides forward to Mr. Welcomes confidently. "I am an ally of justice! Please, let us in!" He also immediately tries to enter Mr. Welcomes' head to figure out exactly what kind of identification he needs, probing the helpful man to try and speed things up instead of a back and forth of dialogue.
Staren	Staren blinks and opens mouth, then closes mouth, like a fish, at the assertion. Before she can comment further, Ioanna claims to be the highest-ranking Union member here and Staren looks at her, then back at the UEF ID. She puts the credentials back in her bag, then shifts to male form briefly before shifting back. "I'm the one and only! And I'm doing just fine--" She freezes.     Eyes widen in recognition and shock. "YOU'RE MR. WELCOMES!" She points. "How are you HERE?! What are... this isn't... this isn't the homeworld, this is Earth, what did... w-what is going on?!"     She glances over at the others, then back at Mr. Welcomes. "I'm pretty sure that I'm still the foremost Abstractum expert in Sector Zero, but sadly research has stagnated since Eureka went to sleep some years ago and never woke up." She looks briefly sad.     And then bombards with questions again: "Where have you BEEN? What's been HAPPENING all this time??"
Eryl Fairfax	"Let's see... there was the Warp Iris incident, soon after our founding." He neglects to mention how that went. "Ah, and as Chevalier Langstrom mentioned, much of the Paladins is made up of former Unionites, myself numbering among them. In fact..."     He leans across the counter and gestures conspiratorially for Mister Welcomes to come closer. "I'm sure you're aware of the unpleasantness of the reality quakes that toppled those superfactions?" He lowers his voice to a whisper. "I saved all the sensor data in Njorun to my brain before it collapsed." He taps his skull and winks. "So I'd say that I, more than anyone, at least have a good grasp of what happens when things go wrong!"
Tamamo	'...you were *lying*.'     "Now, now, I am sure he has some good reason for following these rules," Tamamo says to Staren, "whether they are precisely as stated, or otherwise."     'Are you with him as well?'     "It is so," Tamamo says to Gareth. She looks a moment longer, before commenting, "You have a certain resemblance to a knight of my acquaintance. We have not previously met, have we? Ah, I am Tamamo no Mae, as may not have yet been mentioned."     '...through the power of teamwork!'     "Oh, a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Neo. I admit, I am not the most familiar with their sort, and so, please forgive my ignorance, but are you a Kamen Rider? None of those I knew introduced themselves as friends to all, yet something of your dress reminded me of them." She has absolutely no way of knowing if Feathermen and Kamen Riders could be mutually exclusive. She's not even sure if Riders all ride things.     To Mr. Welcomes, Tamamo thinks for awhile, before making her suggestion to check 'the Siberian affair,' as an instance of her experience.
Ioanna Langstrom	Ioanna just nods at Gareth. "Yes, ma'am. Second Lieutenant Ioanna Langstrom."
Gareth	Featherman Neo's bombastic announcement, meanwhile, has Gareth somehow going even more wide-eyed. "Amazing...! I don't know what a Featherman is, but your outfit is great!" She sounds excited enough, and her cap even looks like it's going to fall off for some unseen reason. She calms down a bit when Tamamo identifies herself, although she's still grinning ear to ear all the while. "We have not, but it's quite lovely to meet you, Lady Tamamo. You must be talking about my brother, Gawain!" Only then does she realize she hasn't introduced herself yet, finally stepping back to bow lightly with one hand in front of her waist. "I am Gareth, seventh seat of the Round Table. It's a pleasure to meet you all!" After staring at Tammo for a while longer, she gives Ioanna a closer look. "You... Look familiar, too." As if realizing something, she then makes sure to look up a bit more. "Y-your face, I mean! You remind me of... Someone." Clearing her throat, Gareth finally looks over to Mr. Welcomes hopefully. "Will that do for credentials?"
Ioanna Langstrom	"I get that a lot, ma'am," Ioanna says blankly, "I just have one of those faces."
Staren	Staren can't help but smile and clap a little at Featherman Neo's sheer *earnestness*. "Nice to meet you!"     When Tamamo points out the rules might be there for a reason, Staren waves dismissively, not at Tamamo's concern so much as at the tack Staren was taking until a moment ago. "It's fine, we know eachother, he's got good reason. If we need to go find an expert on Time I'm sure we can."     She curiously looks over Gareth. "So you're Gawain's sister, huh? Pleasure to meet you as well, I'm Staren Wiremu, Gifted-- err, Partner of the Concord!"
Lilian Rook	As much as Lilian would vastly prefer to leave Arthur to his own devices with this one, a particular 'adventure' on a particular 'film noire' planet with a particular one of his friends(?) somehow involved, once she remembers, begins to weigh heavily on her mind. She'd be more of a mind to remark upon (her visceral discomfort with) being surrounded with this fever dream cancer sprawl of 'office' if she didn't still remember those endless bricks and street lamps.     "I'd hoped it'd be the other way around, Grandmaster. Something to do with making games." she says to Eryl along the way, the signs drawing her attention right away, as the most comprehensible thing in this repetitive mess. "Somehow, I get the feeling that's the other way around." she says to Tamamo as well, staying close. "It has the feeling of being so many pieces before, and slapped together at some recent point for this." She can't quite seem to let that one from Gareth (only familiar through Gawain's description and extensive discussion at this point) though. "Modern *what*? A square is a square is a square. Did you mean something else?" She kind of depressingly suspects the knight did not.     Late into the arrival, when Arthur is visibly harassing the guy behind the glass, Lilian finally huffs, "Alright, hold the phone, you'd better not start using all of those nonsense words again to describe things that are already nonsense enough. Oeuvre pump? First off: French; deplorable. Second: You're pumping what? Artwork? A story? What does decompression have to do with anything? This is so obnoxious."     And yet, it's a fairly simple (but weird) question from this 'Mister Welcomes' guy that hooks her attention. She'd assumed Fairfax's credentials, being the highest in the land here and spotless as they come, would carry them here. She opens her mouth at the same moment Tamamo suggests the mystery man look into 'the Siberian Affair', then begins to close it again. A little while later, she goes with something else instead. "Dame Commander Lilian Rook, Ring of Solstice, and Chevalier of the Paladins. Immaculate Extinguisher, Blade; Crimson, Immune Corps petty officer." This doesn't seem to be the part she's getting to. "It's as she says." Lilian begins, quickly swiping up the externally filed record for the Threat Level: Dragon Antengent on file. "However, I can vouch for Tamamo and myself for having ample experience with predetermination, casuality-related, and past/future action-consequence principles. And . . ." She bites her lip for just a moment. "Well, you have a computer in there, right?" Provided he does, she swipe-sends him an internal registry version of her Immunes file, with some of the black ink selectively lifted.
Arthur Lowell	Ioanna Langstrom gets some contemplative looks. "Mmmh, difficult. Well, rules are rules! Skaianet's assets were frozen and repossessed by the Unity-- sorry, the Union. I guess you're the head of Union operations, in this world." Mr. Welcomes types several things in on his computer. "Would you say in an official sense that the 'Paladins' are an organization of spatiotemporally-positive repute? That'll help with getting the paperwork sorted." He's nodding pretty eagerly. Looks like this is progress in some way.     Featherman Neo roots around. He's looking for assurances that this won't be weaponized, exploited. Someone -- marked in his brain as "A. Lowell", but not Arthur Lowell -- demands strict vetting of access to this specific locale.     Staren gets a burst of recognition. "Ah, there you are! Yes, the one and only! I've gotten a new job. Instead of the Homeworld kiosk, I run some of these now! I wouldn't worry too much about it. We get new jobs and all, you know? Well, some time loops didn't get fulfilled in that whole Abstractum business, and the multiverse reorganized to shift ###### out of the picture in some ways, so when I was rendered impossible by the Multiverse, I went and got a new job! Lowell's been a wonderful help -- mine, not yours. Yours seems a bit mad."     He checks... "Here we are, 'Siberian Affair', 'Warp Iris', responders among the 'Paladins'... and their Grand Marshal equivalent, with data from the Fifth Great Reset. I *may* be able to let you through. Give me a minute to look you all up."     Lilian Rook's questions about the Oeuvre get a quicker response. "'Canon' would be another effective word. Some things gain a different relation with your causality and drift out of the way of the new. Unfulfilled prophecies. Time loops that never worked out. Things like that! This equipment recreates non-Multiverse conditions, replicating places like the Frontier, and thus the Frontier's causal refugees, who need a bit of a delicate hand."     He gets the registry files... taps away... "Could you hold up your sword for confirmation, please, Ms. Rook?" He's got a little thing that looks like a barcode scanner. Assuming she allows it...     "Well, that's all in order. I think I can authorize you for the equipment and let you through. And one of you even already lodged the request with Dramatic Gravitas!" He nods to Featherman Neo. "Before I could even ask. So!" It's been years, who knows how many, since Staren heard this catchphrase:     "LET'S SEE WHAT HAPPENS *THIS TIME!*"     With a heavy slam, he smashes the enter key on his keyboard and cracks it in half. The door next to him, a heavy metal airlock thing, pops open. "FUCKIN' FINALLY," Arthur declares. "We can get this SHOW ON THE ROAD. C'mon, GET IN NERDS." He dashes into the concrete chamber...
Ioanna Langstrom	'I guess you're the head of Union operations, in this world.'      She really wishes she could say 'yes.'      This is probably the first and last time anyone will ever see Ioanna Langstrom blush, and it's almost assuredly because she's terribly embarassed.      "No, sir. That would be the Grandmaster. But in my opinion as a longtime soldier, the Paladins are in fact an orgaization of spatiotemporally-positive repute."
Featherman Neo	As Mr. Welcomes nods to Featherman Neo, Featherman Neo poses again at Tamamo and Gareth. "Kamen Rider I am not, but I assume we are friends already, if they are similar to the Feathermen! Heroes who fight monsters to protect the weak!" Gareth's introduction gets a sparkle in his masked voice. "A knight! How lovely. We will become fast friends, Sir Gareth!" And to Mr. Welcomes, "Thank you for all your support! If you ever need help, call for the Feathermen! We'll come to save you!" And then Featherman Neo briskly walks through the door after Arthur. He wants to see what's up!
Eryl Fairfax	It takes a multi-pronged approached, but eventually, Mister Welcomes is convinced this group can handle it. "Thank you sir," Eryl says with a smile, leaning back and secreting away his badge. "Should a customer satisfaction form be presented me, I'll be sure to give you the maximum rating." A nod and a wink is also given to Lilian, Ioanna and Tamamo for their thinking. "Well done."     The others who arrived he keeps an eye on. Staren and Alexis are known quantities, and Arthur is the expert here. Them he trusts. Gareth and Featherman Neo are new, so he begins constructing an internal profile for them both as he strides into the bunker.
Staren	Staren is... slightly concerned that Welcomes knowing who she is isn't enough, but it seems combined they qualify.                       LET'S SEE WHAT HAPPENS *THIS* TIME!                           Staren's eyes widen and she stiffens for a moment. That's right. There were so many unfinished nodes... Is that... the kind of thing that awaits them here? She steels herself, taking a deep breath and tugging a bit at the shoulders of her coat. She rubs the scarf between her thumb and forefinger. You are Staren Wiremu, and you can handle this.     She walks after Arthur, steadily, trying to be prepared for whatever fantastic world will await on the other side.     But she pauses briefly, just before the door, to turn back towards the kiosk. "It's a pleasure working with you again, Mr. Welcomes." She smiles before turning back towards the door. Running her right fingers along her left forearm and the back of her hand thoughtfully, before she reaches into her bag. And then snaps two bulky metal bracers into place over the forearms of her coat before walking on in.
Alexis	Alexis rolls her eyes abiet not at anything in particular. "No matter where in the Multiverse you go, there's always paperwork and red tape." Fortunately they seem to be sorting through, slowly. Welcome was just doing a job, after all. "There, all that sorted out. All Art needed to do was get the proper support." She only has half the idea of what's going on, but she's gone on less. "We will just be on our way then." She gives a nod to the receptionist. "Have a good day, Mr. Welcomes." Then tucks her hands into the pockets of her hoodie and follows after Arthur deeper into the facility... building... complex... place... Along the way she gives Staren a nudge with her elbow and smirks. "I ever tell you that you do make a cute girl?"
Gareth	"That's right! Ah, so you're with the Concord, Lady Staren. So we have someone from everywhere here!" Gareth laughs, not looking all too worried about being surrounded by non-Watch members. If anything, she actually seems even more pleased by that. "Is geometry the wrong word? Wait, I know someone mentioned this before..." Gareth scrunches her face up in thought as she considers Lilian's question, possibly even surpassing her expectations when she finally snaps her fingers. "Ah, yes! Architecture! With the words just saying what the floors and walls are... They never used to do that in my time." "And what's wrong with French?" That has her pouting slightly. Only slightly. At least Featherman Neo's bombastic explanation has her perking up again. "That sounds great! Yes, I hope so, too. Now, let's see whatever it is we're here to do or...!" Another beat, and she starts following after Arthur. "What is it we're here for, anyway...?"
Arthur Lowell	The room looks blank. More "1X1M SOLID GEOMETRY FLOOR TEXTURE" around. The room's aspects are displayed: "-9.8M/S^2 'SAFE' GRAVITY ZONE", "DATA DUMP INSTANCE, MEMORY NON-RECYCLING", and "/!\ CAUTION /!\ OEUVRE EQUIPMENT MAY BE IN OPERATION /!\ CAUTION /!\" Arthur mutters to himself as he drifts in, then settles on the ground. He invites the others to head through... Once they're all in, the airlock closes behind them.     Arthur activates something on his phone. A PA from nowhere in particular in the room speaks: "DECOMPRESSING LOCAL OEUVRE IN THREE... TWO... ONE... ACTIVATION." And what happens next is... surreality. Impossible to describe with the words and systems with which we are familiar. It can only, of course, be described with the words and systems of something else. The concrete pulls away. The people here pull away. The geometry of this world pulls away, like everything's expanding. The elites are, each of them, somewhere else -- and seemingly separated, at least for now. They're somewhere new and strange. It looks a little like home, like a dozen things that have fallen out of the current events, like a million places and times that were, long ago, and now aren't.     Thankfully, the Elites are not simply there with nothing at all. But that'll be explained momentarily. The PA voice speaks up: "Ludogenic software (HEX SYS 0.5 r10412 'XMAS BETA 09') load complete. Module statuses available to read here for Pueblo-enabled interfaces."
Tamamo	'You must be talking about my brother, Gawain!'     "Ah, so you are the sister he mentioned!" Tamamo's eyes light up in recognition. "Yes, you certainly do resemble one another." Then chiding, "He was quite upset over reuniting with you, only for you to go off on your own, you know?" Even if that's not exactly what happened.     'Heroes who fight monsters to protect the weak!'     Tamamo only has to consider this description for the barest moment before nodding with a smile. "They do seem much concerned with such things, it is so."     Between the efforts of many present, matters seem to have been settled. Though she'd been concerned that Mister Welcomes might have been waiting for a very specific qualification, the truth turned out to be much easier. That, or her experiences in this lifetime have just been strange enough to qualify. It's somewhat hard to tell with any certainty. "We shall away, then."     'And what's wrong with French?     Oh, dear. Tamamo takes Lilian's arm, to be sure they go forward together.
Lilian Rook	Lilian seems, at once, relieved and encouraged that her decision has so roundly paid off, and yet, somehow worried that it might be relevant. As if she still isn't entirely sure that was the right decision. It's rare that sort of doubt is part of a strictly moral calibre. Her uneasy frown intensifies a moment when 'Mister Welcomes' asks that of her specifically, but she decides to silently comply, if only to minimize how much might get talked about. Night Mist appears to be in a (relatively speaking) calm state, though there's a moment where it's scanned that old runes glow faintly through the grip and her fingers over them. A moment where it checks into the computer as, simultaneously, a sword, a bloody shard of lodestone, and [redacted]. "Would it *kill you* to just say thank you?" she sighs to Arthur in exasperation as he runs off. She still can't help but let her lips twitch upwards a little bit with Eryl's line.     "It comes from France." she patiently explains to the Gareth, expecting the answer justifies itself. Observing elsewise, she raises an eyebrow, pointing to the floor. "Nine point eight meters per second squared? That's a custom set for the Earth gravity variable if it isn't just one gee." Her theorizing has to stop very abruptly, as e v e r y t h i n g g e t s w e i r d.
Alexis	Alexis lets out another sigh. "Okay, if they're gonna just keep throwing mumble jumble technobabble around, I need a translater." She removes one hand from her pocket, expanding the pokeball in it as she does, and giving it a flick into the air in front of her. The usual flash of light follows, which conforms itself into a rounded off wire-frame that fills in with magenta and cyan textures to look like one of those novelty dunking birds but with little paddles for wings. The Porygon-Z swivels it's head in a full 360 to take in the room. Then bleeps a few times. > Relative spacial alignment is in flux. < Alexis... slaps a palm to her face. "You're suppose to make it MORE understandable, not less Glitch. Work with me he--" Cue everything around them becoming everything and everywhere else. > Anomolus space-time behavoir has occured. < "No shit.... Glitch, just find something that make sense for me." Porygon-Z's eyes crackle and flicker like tiny screens as streams of cone zip across them. > Processing < The PA helpfully speaks up... wait, how can they even hear tha... no nevermind, thinking too hard about it. "Oh just find whatever module that voice is talking about." > Processing. Just hold onto your humes and scrantons. <
Arthur Lowell	In new places and strange not-times, causality jumps. There's a sense that work has *actually happened*. That each Elite has gone through towns, or cities, or they've been to mines or been slaughtering threats. Friends were made. Foes were defeated. A day has passed, but spread thin. The story is lighter.     The software Alexis is investigating is two parts. The first is some shit Arthur spliced in, raw magic meant to make manifest a ton of matter from another type of reality. The second is partially Arthur, mostly Skaianet: Software designed for some kind of complex logistics, tactical structuring, and other settlement-managing matters. It's designed to craft a whole new civilization on a frontier.
Gareth	Gareth's eyes glaze over a bit at all the words. She does not understand any of these words, and it only gets more confusing when the world geometry (not architecture) starts shifting. It would be easy enough to see that she's bewildered by all of it if everyone hadn't just gotten separated, but there's also an excitement evident there. If only she knew what she was actually looking at. With little to no actual computer knowledge, the knight does what she can only assume will help in this situation: Pressing buttons!  "Interface... Probably how I use this? But what's a pueblo? And this... Digital Extrusion? Uhm..." It's all so bewildering to her, but at least she's not shying away from pressing buttons.
Staren	Staren's ears turn to Gareth and she nods. As she walks to the door, Alexis elbows her and she stops a moment, blushing. "N-no, I don't think you did..." She fiddles with her scarf again. At least... at least now she knows what this feeling is. "Thanks... though..." she continues, before walking on. There's... stuff to do, apparently.     A distant world. Staren was expecting that all together they'd meet... things from abandoned timelines. The Custodians. Versions of themselves from a world where the Union and Confederacy are still around, or different factions formed. Or where they made different decisions, retiring from adventuring or getting more invested in particular worlds. Instead...     Staren finds herself adventuring in some sort of pastoral fantasyland. It feels... well, it kind of feels like that first mission for the Legion, while he was stuck in the alternate past. Wandering through the wilderness to get something important, fighting off creatures and bandits and then hunting down the people who stole the macguffin, getting it back. What... what kind of people inhabit this place? Staren tries to remember and check her cyberware's chronometer. Stay lucid, stay in control; of the situation... that's the only way to get through these things, right? Except, there's something wrong with that way of thinking, but... she also doesn't want to get lost...
Tamamo	Tamamo is somewhere else, and spends a few moments in frantic fretting at her escort's disappearance. Thankfully, no one saw that.     There are certainly familiar aspects to this place. She's seen, and lived upon, no great shortage of islands. Attempting to examine the INTERFACE, she can only remark on its strangeness, though she somehow manages to explore it, eventually. Exploring her island 'home base' comes afterward.     Time passes, as time tends to do, though usually with a greater feeling of weight than it did, this time. She can only roughly remember that she's spent this time searching for leylines, placing wards, floating out over the water on a raft made of magically summoned magic, encasing some curiously hostile wildlife in ice when it tried to get out of the water to attack her, and then returning without having thought of a good plan to make a bridge between where she is and the next island over. Well, a boat might make more sense. It's a shame she has no skill in that level of woodcraft.
Ioanna Langstrom	This is so very, very far above her paygrade.      Ioanna Langstrom isn't someone who makes decisions for civilizations. She's not someone who makes decisions for large groups of people who aren't soldiers - and even then, she was never command rank. At most she made decisions for her team. Even then, that was rare. She's been a follower for a long time.      But here she is. She's on the bridge of a spaceship in a clean uniform with a cape around her shoulders. She's got a fencing rapier at her side and her blonde hair is flowing freely. In front of her is the bridge of a massive stellar vessel, at which a number of humans are working fiercely.      "We're entering battle, Your Majesty."      Ioanna blinks.      "Ma'am," one of the soldiers says, "Ma'am! Terrorists emerging from dataspace. Your orders?"      Ioanna blinks again.      "Your Majesty!" One of the crew members says as, in the very far distant, pricks of light appear amidst the stars, lens flares in the darkness. "The terrorists are opening fire on the fleet!"      Beams of light go shooting past the ship. There's explosions on the sides. As the ship itself shakes on impact, Ioanna grabs her handrail. "Move all ships into counter formation! Layered defense - send the shieldships out front and open fire!"      A barrage of cannons rakes out from her own ship as massive vehicles come moving into place. The ragtag ships in front of her flicker, split, and move. Ioanna raises her hand and flicks her fingers outward, white cape flowing behind her. "Pursue them into dataspace and seize their forward base! We'll lock off the entrance to this corridor and pin them further!"      And in the back of her mind, she's wondering what the hell just happened.
Tamamo	When prompted, Tamamo does call out, "Featherman, fly!" to the sky.     Then she claps her hands twice, and rings a small bell, saved for just such occasions.
Featherman Neo	Unfortunately for Tamamo, it seems that they're not in the same Oceanus. Nobody came.
Arthur Lowell	Button-pressing works just fine, Gareth can see. It's all lighter, all easier. The buttons are in one's mind, in a sense, just as much as they're on phones or tablets or things like that.     Staren's chronometer is true, though. It says one day has passed. It also sensibly updates from the outside. One inside, twenty or so outside. It's like air pressure!     Those craving to know what the people are like, what the places are like, find them occupied by Echoes. These nullbody-like constructs are playing out the roles of the lost and unfulfilled stories, or those so long-gone that they are now obliterated; copies upon copies of the same types of person, or sometimes even one person. Echoes that still seem to express some sentience....     It's all light. It's all simplified. Abstracted. The causality jolts again when Arthur warns that it's about to happen.
Staren	Will that work? There's only one way to know. Staren, currently on some dirt road between fields, also calls out, "Featherman, Fly!" Feeling kind of silly. Then she belts out, with more confidence, "FEATHERMAN, FLY!"
Lilian Rook	Lilian's first impression of this all is intense, private annoyance that it'd immediately split Tamamo up from her, despite her best efforts, knowing full well how distressing that has to be. Her second impression is one that reluctantly raises her opinion of Arthur several degrees, even remarking that "This is shockingly complex work, even coming from you. I'd have preferred it either be less obtusely 'gamey' or at least come with a proper instruction booklet though.", thus revealing the void where true stubborn gamer machismo would be in one's heart. Her third impression is that of wanting to take that praise back.     <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, with intense, exasperated regret at being here, "Faeries. Faeries faeries faeries and faeries."     Being put at the center of an abstractly represented wonderland of the fair folk is something she is *uniquely* qualified to extricate herself from, and yet, a quasi-simulated day later, she's only cut her way from the borders of one to another one entirely, navigating Twisting Paths of Unreality, extracting omens and meaning from the Warping of Common Sense, and slaying the Overzealous Ogres that bar her way. All that, of course, didn't objectively happen, but she recognizes the sensation with an immediate sense of loose familiarity.     <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Since the 'canon' here is so weak, and being simulated at this rate, what happens is that we're only taking singular actions and it's been retrocausally spun into a day-long sequence of events that connects to how we got to that conclusion, right?"
Gareth	Gareth, for her part, truly has no idea what she's looking at. She can see her hands moving, but they don't look like her hands. She can see the floor, but it doesn't feel like the floor. It feels almost like she's looking through a... Window? But she can interact with things inside of it. She takes a few steps around, and she presses some of those 'buttons' in her mind. She has no idea what they're doing, but it's kind of relaxing being in this big room with the nice fireplace and shelves full of weird boxes. She steps outside, looking at the pastures to each side and trying to make heads or tails of the wasteland in the distance. "Maybe if I try... What's this grid?" She steps towards the standing grid in front of her, reaches through it, then jerks back when she sees her actual hand in there. "What the...? This technology really is..." She has no words for it. She's excited, but she's definitely not understanding a lick of what she's seeing.
Eryl Fairfax	Everything stretches out and away. There's a lot of Eryl to expand outwards, and for a moment, he fears scattering into nothing. But the centre holds, and time advances.     Walking. Talking. Fighting. Saving. It's all very familiar to him. But it's almost dreamlike in a way he is actually familiar with. Dreams are strange when you have neural implants. Still following strange logic, but all that logic eventually becomes consistent. Computers don't do well with unsound patterns after all.     He remembers those things, yet did not do them, yet has followed on from them in a way that makes sense. And that has landed him sitting on a hill overlooking a small village. In his memories, it's usually a sand dune instead, but this is far more pleasant. In the sky above, he sees floating isles, and in this distance, more grassland.     'Try expanding' Arthur says basically. And so he sets about speaking to the village guards, advising them to head out, claim and protect more land for the animals to graze and the farmers to tend. Adventurers passing through are convinced with coin he had gathered to go with them as extra defence. And now to wait...
Alexis	Alexis is still really confused, but she's just taking it in stride. Confusing or not, dealing with weird situations is in itself something familiar. > Programming located < Glitch finally buzzes. "Programming?" Alexis raises a brow. Time seems to shift more pass, and it's a bit disorienting. Still she's grasping onto the moment as Glitch switchs on a holographic projection. > This operation appears to be akin to an augmented reality, on a scale of temporal spacial anomoulous activity, by processing of resource events and positional disputes. < "So it's a surreal-time strategy game," Alexis muses as she starts tinkering with the 'controls'. A sound not unlike an old fashioned modem briefly fritzing out emits from the Porygon-Z. > How do you work a pun into -that- < "I'm not as dumb as I look." Alexis applies something to someplace, and gets a result. "Hah." Glitch hovers over her shoulder. > What did you do? < "I don't know.. but when in doubt, trial and error." The chatter back and forth sounds like everyone else is somewhere else, but in a similar situation on a general grandeur scale. "Okay, so we send these here." She flicks a few more control gestures. "And put those there to defend..."
Ioanna Langstrom	Expand.      Four days.      In four days she's already getting the hang of it. She doesn't know why she's been made Queen (King?), but she's adapting fast. Maybe things just move *faster* here in this strange off-space she's in, or maybe they just needed someone authoritative to take control. Maybe the old King (Queen?) died without an heir and she just happened to look enough like an heir for them to put her in their place.      But either way, in four days, she's getting it. She's sent soldiers to secure the dataspace. She's sent an experimental dragon-engine to claim an apocalyptic planet as a forward base. Agri-worlds fall under the protection of Imperial troops, securing fantastic worlds to harvest for crops and resources.      And it feels good, to be in this position. It feels nice. For once in her life, she's the giant. It's awkward, and strange, and unusual, but she's the giant, now, she's the one in control, she's the one with the power, and that's...      It feels good.
Staren	Investigation... it seems like a moment ago, Staren was just investigating, but somehow, that became expansion? Heroes are sent out... Staren's not exactly *commanding* them, so much as it seems like how the story should go.     The story tries to stretch to include five worlds, as Staren wants to know what's up in a machine world two gate hops away. It's getting a bit much to keep track of, and Arthur's description of how green resonance works confirms it won't hold.     It feels like it's been so long, but in brief moments of lucidity, Staren feels like she's breaking hyperfocus to suddenly remember she's sitting in front of a game. The worlds still don't feel real.     God this is a mindfuck. Good thing she's got some practice going through so much bizarre... even in just the last few weeks, temporal shenanigans and having her mind split in two... so she takes this in stride as best she can.
Tamamo	Making a boat proved too much for Tamamo. Charming a giant sea creature into giving her rides is much more doable. Again, she doesn't feel the memories are quite real, more like a retrocausal justification, a reason for her to be somewhere else than the island she'd been investing her energy into. The giant nautilus may not really be real, either, but she pats its shell anyway, as she gets off at a place where screaming men and women on motorbikes and buggies who've had way too many piercings and far too few baths are her primary company. At least they're humanoid.     By the time she's realized it, Tamamo returns to her island dressed entirely in black leather, with gleaming studs. She's not entirely certain why this was favored desert wear. It's rather hot.
Gareth	Gareth still hasno idea what she's doing. She's sent some more of her soldier programs out to 'visit' one of her new friends, but they haven't reported back yet. No matter. "Building an empire takes time... Hehe. But if I play my cards right, this could be a new start!" She laughs and laughs and laughs. She still has no idea what she's doing, but she laughs regardless. She also gets to work re-fortifying goddamn everything. "... No wonder more people don't start their own kingdoms. This is a lot trickier than I thought it'd be."
Arthur Lowell	Arthur's spell starts to waver. The PA speaks up again. "OEUVRE DECOMPRESSION HAS EXCEEDED SAFE LIMITS." Bzzzt. "WARNING. AUTOMATIC RECOMPRESSION IN PROGRESS." There's a loud ping, in dozens of places and dozens of ways. It's been about two 'weeks' now, but...     There are concrete walls, miles high, visible on every horizon. They stretch into the sky and out of sight. They are closing in.     They are getting closer.     Closer.     And now...     Everyone's back in the decompression chamber. Notably, any clothing they acquired in their two weeks of journeying remains tangibly real, albeit it feels a little tenuous. Unfortunately, weapons and armor acquired in these adventures fizzle away gradually over about thirty seconds. Mr. Welcomes' voice speaks up. "Whoops, that's the whole capacity! The pump needs to cool down for a while. Did you have a good time-slash-times?"
Gareth	Gareth blinks slowly as she tries to remember what it's like to move with her limbs fully visible again, groaning on her way back up into a sitting position. "That was quite the... Different thing! Aside from everything looking so strange in there, that was fun!" She stands up, slips on nothing, and promptly faceplants. It only takes a moment for Gareth to scramble back onto her feet, breathing a heavy sigh of relief despite the light mark on her forehead. "I'm okay! I could see this being useful for something, sometime." "But was all that about things exploding again... Er. Is that something that's expected to happen again soon?" She runs a hand through her hair, only mildly hoping that it's not an oily mess by now. "Is it something that this would be able to handle better than us just stopping it directly?"
Alexis	They're back in the original chamber after another disorienting shift in ... everything. Alexis puts a hand to her brow for a moment and getting her bearings back in order. "Glitch..." The Porygon-Z pings over her shoulder. > I have datatracks logging the experience. < Pauses. Its head wobbles to one side. > However their timestamps are DATA EXPUNGED due to anomolous shift of time flow during the simulation resulting in DATA EXPUNGED. < "That... is about what I expected." Alexis lowers her hand to smooth out her jacket. Then notices. "This isn't the hoodie I was wearing when we started. Oh well. It's a nice jacket."
Ioanna Langstrom	Ioanna is booted from the simulation. She returns to reality with the Alter Gear back in its original state - the post-apocalyptic visitor rags, the big stop sign, et cetera. She didn't get to keep anything. Not even the cape.      That makes sense, after all. She's not really a giant here.
Tamamo	After days of fighting (or possibly several confused minutes), sending her sea horrors into space (which is close enough to an ocean) to wrap horrifying appendages around Ioanna's fleet ships, but seeing little progress made in any direction but the pleasant, mystical strengthening of her home island, Tamamo finds herself... not in any of those places. "Oh, Mr. Nautilus!" But it's already gone. All of it. Mute, wireframe sea friends included.     All except the black leather jacket, a single spiky pauldron, and a necklace of seashells she doesn't quite remember making. She doffs her straw hat (an old one she happened to have), brushes herself for sand, and makes her way back over to Lilian, giving a little wave to Ioanna along the way.     "Well, now, and how was your time?"
Ioanna Langstrom	Ioanna waves back. She moves to fall in line with the other Paladins.
Staren	It's like... a dream? Or an RTS? Staren's been directing the action even though there's no logical reason everyone should see her as an authority. But she's getting the hang of it. Building up her 'base' and the wasteland 'near' it. The horde of unicorn golems weather Gareth's attacks. Guards and apocalyptic punks spread a kind of... stability far and wide. Staren... invests, in trying to make the wasteland more understood, and some kind of cyborg mutant hero rises. Interesting. Staren keeps trying to sieze the machine world, but falls short.     When they all reappear in the un-decompressed chamber, her clothes have a decidedly post-apocalyptic air to them -- it still involves a labcoat and goggles, but the labcoat is smudged, frayed and uneven, paired with a leather apron in similar state, and the clothes underneath are also worn and dirty but comfortable-looking, including a hoodie over an inexplicably midriff-baring top and a worn, patched sport-knit skirt that has seen better days paired with tank boots decorated with spikes. Naturally, her face is also dirt-and-oil-smudged and her hair is a mess, because Apocalypse.     She strides over to Gareth and extends a hand to shake, "A pleasure doing battle with you, Gareth!"     Staren hmms. "These Multiversal Reorganization Events... we don't understand how they work. How to stop them, I wouldn't begin to know... Arthur's been hard at work here on this for some time. If he thinks this is a better way to manage it than trying to preserve the structure of the Multiverse as it is, I trust his judgement. He knows what he's doing."     "...It's not as destructive as it sounds. Positions change, but individual worlds come out fine. Crossworld trade may be disrupted and need to be re-established though, but we got things going pretty quickly last time."
Arthur Lowell	"It's... yeah. Yeah, I think so." Arthur says, nodding a bit somberly to Gareth. "I really can't deal with that happening again. Seen it happen twice, seen shit signaling it *now*..." He rubs his face. "I *really* don't want it to happen again. We're due for another fucked-up mixup. And, I mean, sure you could stop it all together. But fuckin' hell, we all know that's not gonna happen. Or at least, if it happens, sure won't be because I *didn't* add a little clarity and a release valve. Y'know? That's what this is, I guess. Just a backup. And some clarity."     Arthur drifts a bit erratically, his personal antigravity fluttering slightly as he settles onto his ass and starts poking at spell-circles around him, leaning back against one of the 1X1M WALL TEXTURE walls. "I got a *fuckton* of work to do on this if it's gonna be ready for game day, though. Alright, gotta figure out the resonance decays, solve the attack simplifier, get an archival situation going on..." Muttermutter. Magic flickers around his head.
Staren	Once someone mentions clothes have changed, Staren looks down, and blinks. "Huh? We... ah I'm dirty all over! Freaking post-apocalypse!" She puts the apron away, fastens up the hoodie, and pushes the goggles up onto her forehead. She's also wearing one (1) glove on her left hand. Perhaps more of a gauntlet, built from bits of scrap metal, wire, and circuitry components. On the back of the wrist is a cabochon-cut sapphire through which can be seen a low-res LED display. Where the Second Gauntlet had a distinctly 1800's steampunk aesthetic, this would-be Third Gauntlet has a mostly post-apocalyptic aesthetic, though bits of gold, silver and gems hint at fantasy influence and tree fibers, treated fish scales and bits of shell hint at an oceanic-island influence.     Staren only now realizes she's wearing it. She doesn't... remember building it.     As they exchange messages with Mr. Welcomes, when he mentions his memory is shot, and she sees how he's still enclosed, she looks at him sadly... but eventually she puts on a smile and walks up to him. "Thanks for passing it on, Mr. Welcomes..." She spreads her arms and leans against the enclosure to try and get across the idea of a hug, then steps back. "Tell A. Lowell we appreciate his..." She pauses, thoughtfully. "...their help, and I hope we can meet someday."     She smiles and turns to Arthur. "It was good seeing you again. Amazing work you're doing. Anytime you can use my help, just let me know, alright?"
Staren	Once everyone's filing their way back out to the elevator, Staren gives the gauntlet a somber look as she does so, cradling it. She mutters softly, "I'm sorry. I wasn't the person I needed to be, to work together with you best. To work together with everyone. I hope I'm better now. Next time... if something like this happens again next time, I'll try to do better. I hope I can work together with everyone on improving Secundus. This stupid factional bickering kept me from sharing your opportunities... and our findings and power. Who knows what more we could have learned? Who knows what more we could have built? Maybe we wouldn't have left so much unfinished that it created Secundus..."