Scene #8106: Third Bloom of Humanity

Owner	Pose
Lilian Rook	It would have been really really nice to learn any of this back in June instead of fucking October. 'Former Russia' is the kind of territorial statement that still clings to relevance by simple recency of national borders in living memory. As an objective statement, it is practically useless. Anyone familiar with how vast the country was, how much empty space is in it, and how awful the Antegent no-man's lands between Urban Centers actually are, would know this implicitly. It is more relevant to state that the 'in' comes by way of the Krasnoyarsk Urban Center, in the northwest of what was once the Siberian Federal District. Which is why it is, according to Lilian's most specific and academic terminology as a world-local, "So fucking cold". An astonishing degree of ground outside the walls --themselves unusually tall, thick, hexagonal and industrial brutalist, compared to those in Europe or Japan-- has been reclaimed here, well past the horizon. It makes for an excellent view, from a sufficiently high point, of the fact that the endless plains to one side are already covered in a rime of white frost and almost every tree but the evergreens along the river has already lost most of its leaves before Halloween. To the other, the forested mountains blink only with the lights of military monitoring and traffic guidance hardware. The structure is at least a familiar sight, with now-historical red brick buildings and aluminium-sided skyscrapers making up what must be the First Circle district, clustered around the frigid riverbanks and the old bridges that connect them, with the Urban Center giving itself over to post-Onslaught repaired and replaced concrete complexes and mismatched locally quarried stone, and beyond that, laminate facades over skeletal ultramodern mass prefabs. The signs and clothes and streets and local colour are different, but it should be easy to navigate. In terms of population, Lilian claims that it's second to the Yamato Urban Center from last year (at least, according to the data she could access by privilege of Immune posting), but it at least appears to be far larger by area, if one is to trust their senses. The UC rambles out in every direction, rapidly losing height away from the First Circle, but painting the oddly cheery illusion of being a real city. It's already dark at 6pm, and the streets --cramped and pedestrian, or lamp-lit 20th century roads-- glow the same gold as the river around the bridges. They're busy and loud, but in an oddly not-unpleasant way. It is, however, sort of a pain. You have excruciatingly little to go on but a name and a location so vague as to be useless, a hundred miles to the west. It's just that this is the only place to even start. Lilian has informed you already that, despite her credentials, it was simply not possible for her to fly into the region without good reason, having unusually strict border control compared to even the Japanese clan territories. What she does do, is call in a favour with a certain Commander Volkov of the Siberian G.D.F; a man who owes various Elites a favour for their role in eliminating the 'officially dead' Navsegda Prizrak, and, as he put it, 'putting the souls of his comrades to rest', one year ago.
Lilian Rook	That means you have military passes and have to wear badges. They're not fake, per-se. Lilian explains it as far as it matters; technically, if an operation were organized while here, they'd all be called upon to participate as the chain of command saw fit; no questions and no opt-outs. Given the combat experience of the group and their short planned stay, she considered this a trivial risk. It proves to be well-conceived, too, because the presence of state enforcement is visible everywhere. Urban Centers in the former UK and France had the panopticon thing going on, with armed police around every other corner, and the Urban Center in Nevada was patrolled by military surveillance and law enforcement drones, but here, there must simply be one soldier for every twenty civilians, or so it seems. Some are involved with actual checkpoints, monitoring movements and recording day incidents, and many are set to guarding major facilities of importance, as well as most strictly enforcing the boundaries between Circles, but vast numbers are simply out on the town, at bars or theatres, shopping with sweethearts or family, in a permanent state of uniform and armament, like something out of a WWII movie. Comparative to Europe, and especially to Japan, there's almost no sign that the masquerade was ever broken here. There isn't the slightest hint of the Phantom Circle's touch anywhere. The local network shows no private Warpgates, and an initial broad magical scan finds no meaningful traces outside the First Circle, and few even within it. It remains to be seen why. Volkov has given his location, at a local dive, in case it were to become relevant, but has made no effort to actually meet the Elites again. For all intents and purposes, the group is simply on their own, trying to learn more about the isolated and secretive administrative area from scratch, in service of somehow figuring out where to go, and how to get there, to find their 'Oreshnika of the Ural'.
Kale Hearthward	Kale's rocking the 'human' disguise again, figuring that it'll make things easier than simply counting on the urban zone here being hip to such multiversal things as 'bird people'. He opts to use the mandatory uniforms to his advantage, and see if they can get him into anywhere that might have some information - archives or museums or anything of the sort, that might have the information they need, relying on his knowledge of Lilian's world and the usual patterns of 'museums and archives' to get pointed in a possibly right direction. ... And, after that, research. Hopefully not too much of it.
James Bond	Bond steps out of the Paladins-issue, modified SUV. It doesn't look modified--but his cars never do. He's chosen an unobtrusive spot to park it--even if that means 'outside the urban center's walls.' Circling around to the back, he opens the swing-out tailgate and retrieves a briefcase. His gloves and the thick parka over his layered (somewhat bougie) outdoors casual wear keep him from the worst of the cold. Inside the briefcase is a camera drone--shaped like a plane in miniature, and a collapsible platform to get it launched. Unfolding it and setting it loose, he pilots it outside the walls of the Urban Center, attempting to get a better lay of the reclaimed land which surrounds it.
Ishirou	Ishirou does not like military uniforms, so he opts not to use one. Instead, he gets a parka and a thick cap to cover his ears. Mittens to cover his hands and some good boots. He's got some good bonus vs cold now and uses that to his advantage. Kale said he was going to go to the museum and archives, so he decides to focus his efforts on looking into the local library. Why? Newspaper clippings. He'll start searching backward to see if there is anything there that might give them a lead on their person. Obituaries (mostly looking for someone with the same last name), stories with them in it, anything that might give a clue. Thankfully, he can process this at very fast speeds, or even access the database if they have one.
Tamamo	Knowing where they'd be going, Tamamo has come appropriately dressed, with her badge on the outside of her coat. Nevertheless, she continues to complain of it, insisting that no gloves were properly warm enough without also being mittens (which is implicitly unacceptable in some way). Since she won't take the gloves she has off, she instead takes Lilian's hands, and insist she feel the state of her ears, being unable to comfortably cover them for multiple reasons. In regards to their reason for being here, she's already set about checking for magical traces. "If we were to find some item related to the one we seek, I might use it to divine their trail. Any clue may suffice. However, whether our goal ever does visit this place... it appears uncertain. Ah, and yet, if magic were used to hide one's presence, there would need be magic to discover an intruder, yes? Perhaps this strange shortage marks an opening that one would exploit." Or maybe the Third Bloom doesn't use anything that would register as such. They have a whole urban center to explore in search of things that may or may not be preset, and hardly a ghost of anyone to help. There are far too many choices of where to begin. What Tamamo finally does, then, is to play tourist. She's a visiting elite, and one with experience fighting antegent -- within Siberia, even! -- and so, she goes to find some soldiers. 'Just off duty' is good timing, people beginning to relax but not yet fully busy, for her to ask about the local entertainment. Every cultured nation attempts to think well of its own theater, and she dimly recalls this being, perhaps, even more true in what had been Russia, whether that be of music, acting, or dance. She's more than willing to hear some nationalist boasting on the subject, and what's more, she has an inherently trustworthy demeanor, despite her foreign appearance. Once people are talking about something familiar to them, it's easy to ask about whether there's been something 'new,' 'interesting,' 'remarkable,' or even 'dangerous,' 'to look out for,' as someone unfamiliar. If there's not too much for her to gather from that direction, she'll continue out toward the outer layers of the city, and look for people in need of a little help. She always has something at least a little helpful to spare, and the troubles people have, spilled to a very trustworthy stranger, sometimes paint another useful picture of recent events.
Trudy Grimm	Trudy Grimm opts out of uniforms; the witch has her own styles and might perhaps die before someone gets her to relinquish the absurd number of charms and beads she wears at all times. About the only thing different from her usual attire however is that she's chosen taller boots than usual. She doesn't even choose headwear. She has hinted numerous times now that she's from some frozen northern land, so perhaps the inhospitable arctic hell of Siberia isn't terribly different from her usual haunts. Sitting on her shoulder is a crow. The astute present might recognize it isn't entirely normal, such as its lack of visible eyes or the jerky way it moves, for it is another one of the Witch's 'cute friends' similarly disguised. And as normal, the Grimoire hangs from her wrist on its strap, wrapped in a layer of leather to protect it from snow and water and held fast by two buckles. The authorization badge is clipped to this casing around her book; hanging quite visibly. Clad like this, the witch sees fit to mingle amidst the Russian citizenry, occasionally stopping a uniformed soldier to ask-- as a new arrival might-- about innocuous things. Where the best grocery outlet is; where she should report as a military guest; choice lodgings; the best taverns; where the dead are taken. That last one is the real question she wants an answer to; the rest is just smoke. And if questioned, why, it's just to visit an old friend while she's in the area.
Rita Ma	Rita has the appearance of wearing clothes that aren't quite warm enough- winter leggings under her skirt, a windbreaker replacing her usual cropped jacket- but she looks even less warm than that. She alternates between hugging herself and trying not to shiver, and blowing fogged breaths over her hands to keep feeling in her fingers. She only does the latter when she thinks nobody's looking, though. Rita seems determined to suffer in silence- not so much for the sake of her pride as for the sake of not bothering anyone else. Before the group disperses, she asks: "What are you hoping to find out about the 'Bloom', Ms. Rook? What you have in common? What makes all of you special? Or do you just want to check in on them, or talk to them?" The presence of the armed men bothers her surprisingly little. Actually, she greets a couple of them with a little smile and slightly shy wave. 'Soldier' pings to her extremely differently than 'cop', even if the difference might later prove insubstantial. She finds a little bench to sit down on, somewhere that seems less bitterly cold, and pulls her knees up against her chest. It's time to make some phone calls. In a city this big, there have to be at least a few Watch contacts. Her questions are as follows: what kinds of travel are available and permitted between here and the Urals? What obstacles are known to exist between here and there? What meaningful settlements are there in that region? Is 'Oreshnika' a widely-known name?
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Recall Navsegda Prizrak Tough time. Specifically, a time warp. An endless repeat of final moments, wasn't it? A kind of hell? He can understand how the response to that might be to militarize such a huge amount of the nation. The Siberian Operation is something he let hurt him brutally at the time, and now he tries to let it fade. >Arthur: Don the badge and pass He grips his robe by the warm fur trim it (suddenly) has, and adjusts the position of the badge that seems to drift in an odd orbit around the whorl on his chest. But with Volkov not really an option, where can he go? What can he do? How can he start on this investigation? He's no detective, no investigator who can track down someone based on a name. And starting from scratch... >Arthur: Okay, but we know how two of these blooms worked. One got a super cool secret order and the other one is the ghost-haunted supreme-bodycount ass-kicker. And both ALREADY had an agenda they were acting on. Yeah, that makes sense; maybe this guy is the same. They were a fulcrum of destiny, something around which inevitabilities and systems of power rotate. >Arthur: So, maybe ask the Noble Horrorterrors? Arthur stops wandering in the street. He stands still on a corner, closes his eyes, and whispers something softly in a series of tones that sounds almost, but not precisely, like the polar opposite of a melody. It translates to, roughly: "Tell me what you can about the fulcrum fate revolves around here." In Japan, that was Sakura, for Europe that was Lilian, so it has to be this "Oreshnika". Otherwise the pattern's going to be dangerously broken!
Lilian Rook	Kale, in a settlement of nearly a million people, has his work cut out picking anything. Granted, it's not like the Third Circle really has robust amenities, but a lot of historical city remains. The highly planned way of Urban Centers compared to random Earth cities makes multiple libraries, museums, and digitalized archives easy enough to find, but it's the volume of it all. Oddly, he's allowed to just walk into them. Free of charge. Public libraries with no card. Preserved modern history and classical culture museums with no ticket. Buildings mainly notable for many accessible computers and vast data storage servers with little more than a line; not even a password on a wall. It's . . . Well, it's informative about the culture of Russia through the Tsarist era onwards. And there's some neat information about native varieties of magic and Enlightened he could pursue. A lot of monuments to the heroic actions of the sovereign armies and hidden orders that later became the G.D.F and Immunes in part. But it feels oddly piecemeal. It has the illusion of completeness, but it's missing crucial details about the specifics of military actions, socioeconomic factors, industrial capabilities, and even Onslaught material has a severe dearth of tangibles on Antegent at all. There are few dates, fewer names. Just an ironclad consensus. One Urban Center per administrative district; bastions of safety that the rural peoples fled to and adore. The revival of the majestically efficient state goverment, maintained by the world's finest cross-UC communications amenities. The indomitability of the Russian spirit in crossing the hostile country, and the mutual cooperation and brotherhood between Centers. The inconceivable danger of everywhere outside of them and the fact that any outside would be lucky to simply die. Nothing about it strikes him as strictly inaccurate. But it also lists the entire Ural Mountain range as abandoned. The 'ethnic people's now almost wholly live in the closest two adjacent UCs.
Lilian Rook	Ishirou finds that newspapers are now digital, without the desire to waste paper, which is fine for him considering how easy that is for him to batch process. There is one published locally for the Krasnoyarsk Urban Center, one that comes from the 'united-territory administrative government', and a few small time local colour pieces. He sees the name a couple of times, but that just confirms it's not all that special; it's simply the local word for Hazel. He can surmise that their girl must likely be Enlightened, but he finds a complete lack of detailed published information about that. It'd been common in the UK, mostly aggrandizing the Phantom Circle and touting the world-class magical advancement of their patron sovereigns, and simply understood as open tradition in Japan, as a matter of honour and prestige for the clans, but information regarding what kind of Enlightened that Russia has is sparse beyond details of their continued victories in reclaiming motherland soil and credit for gains in the economy through the Hidden Continent, presented as a sort of facsimile for the global market with physical travel on Earth so difficult. It's not like it's covered in black ink, but the regularity of the information is extensive. Probably coordinated at a high level.
Lilian Rook	Tamamo's findings with soldiers are somewhat interesting. Western Europe had run their G.D.F on a political basis, expecting from each city-state a certain size ofstanding army and an immediate heed of summons to action and joint assembly as called on. Japan had run on a sort of tithing system of soldiers from each Clan's territory, so that the national government had enough power to maintain balance, with each Clan keeping a private army for themselves. America had simply indicated economic incentive; massive numbers of young people migrating to the G.D.F to simply make a living. Here . . . It seems every single soldier is both a soldier of their district and a soldier of the G.D.F at the same time. There is no particular distinction. Most of the soldiers are, in fact, even simply part time, living in the Urban Centers and then being called out to the field for short, rotating, variable tours, based on the level of mobilization planned by the pan-territorial government. Apparently, there is a very large and organized movement, going on for the past fifteen years, to reclaim as much land as possible, and it's fairly easy to opt into the service, do one's part, and live comfortably. Soldiers are fairly well respected, and there are so many that the police are basically only staffed by investigators; any sort of disruption or crime is easily handled by random military personnel for a few blocks who know how to organize. It makes talking to them strangely . . . normal? Only the elites are considered 'professionals' and live entirely within the military system. The rest are able to give her ample opinions on their favourite passtimes. Here as well, there is a cultural revival going on, as people find meaning in reviving the traditions of their past, before the Onslaught changed the entire world. There's a pervasive sense of pride in resilience, solemn communal duty, and triumps of the many. What they tell her betrays little comprehension of their overall purpose, simply fine to take it day by day. What she does hear that stands out, from a couple of on-leave elite forces types at a private bar, is that there's been a two-pronged push towards Europe, with major plans made to retake the mountains and establish a permanently defended border within the next five years. There are whispers of American surveillance, even interference, most of which are simple national enmity bogeymen, but some of which sound genuinely credible; the latter are all in that region. The federal government is suspiciously forward thinking about eventually coming into conflict with fellow humans. Oddly, there's also a common sort of open secret, passed between veteran soldiers, that sometimes one sees people out in the no-man's land, and to never, ever trust them. That they're not actually people. There are many theories as to why so many soldiers see survivors, go out to rescue them, and then disappear, but it is simply understood that Nobody Lives Outside.
Lilian Rook	Trudy has an easy time. Other than her language, she blends oddly well, especially with the whole cultural revival zeitgeist going on, with a lot of 'trying to piece together traditions before Christianity obliterated them all', after 'faith, generally' fell out. What she hears is pretty interesting. Those who die ordinary deaths inside the Urban Center are simply cremated and given funerals as usual (there is not space to waste on cemetaries). Those who die outside, such as being KIA, are, as a matter of ironclad policy, left where they fall. If they were soldiers, their tags and rifle are returned to next of kin, if possible, but never a body, or even ashes.
Ishirou	Ishirou leans back in where he sits. The lack of something can sometimes reveal more than finding it. In this case, the local enlightened was /very/ secretive. There wouldn't be anything outside of the First Circle, and even then it seems hard to scan anything from here. Could he go there and get information that way..? Seems to be his only lead now. So Ishirou tells people what he's found, and starts trying to make his way there. Assuming he doesn't get stopped or blocked, he'll look for a center of learning. He assumes they must have some place where they train their Enlightened, so it stands to reason they have something like Lilian's school here. It's a place to start.
Lilian Rook	"As much as I can, I suppose." is Lilian's answer to Rita, at ease for being able to dress in her comfy green and grey, fur-lined jacket here. "I don't know if we really have anything in common. Except, if I had to estimate, not being very happy girls." She sounds as if she'd like to laugh sardonically, but fails to materialize the energy. "By the way Master described it, it sounds as if the other three have a similar kind of 'destiny' to mine. I think they were just others who were able to have the same kind of realization I did, find the words that never existed, like I did, and made just the right wish to be heard, like I did. So I'd like to learn much, much more. And, if they're going through what I went through, I'd like to prevent them from making the same decision I almost did. You were all there for me, so I would like to be there for them." The soldiers, of course, think Rita is adorable. Many are oddly perceptive to her state of cold, and often her jackets, mittens, hats, or alcohol with surprising regularity. Rita's research is fruitful, though she finds that the grassroots Watch presence here is far lower than it was at Lilian's 'home' Center, scarcely half the size despite having thrice the population. There are known, major routes between Urban Centers, forged and maintained at great effort by the G.D.F; it's a common task to simply patrol them, report any oddities, burn back any terraforming, skirmish with any Antegent that have wandered by, salvage any wrecks, escort other transports, and maintain the safety equipment and FOBs along the way, with state Enlightened called in to handle things that really require magic. A lot is seen on the roads, but strictly policed on non-disclosure, and the Watch hasn't had reason to intensively interrogate soldiers. There are, very emphatically according to the state, no settlements beyond the Urban Centers. Nobody Lives Outside. The Watch actually has doubts about this, given the tales of people in the wastes, and believes not all of them could be strictly attributed to deception, but classifies those hypothetical settlements as non-friendlies and operational dangers. There is no Urban Center in the Ural Mountains and passage through them is so fraught that they effectively split the former Russian administrative area; the government is eager to reunite them as soon as possible with a sketchy level of thirst. Oreshnika is a rare name, at least. The best her contacts have is that it's odd that no surname was given, but an old-style place-name, like the eras before big cities.
Lilian Rook	The Noble Horrorterrors, privy to the information Arthur has become, have a much more coherent answer to him this time than they did when the Oda very valiantly played with fire, with the giant Rivet and the Muramasas of Bonds and Separations. They do, in fact, confirm, that fate revolves enormously around a girl and a 'world tree'. A Tree of Completion. More than just that, though, it revolves around the crux of mortal power around her too. As the Himorogikage to Sakura, and the Immunes to Lilian, so does something else to this bonded pair. It's a third instance of 'a group that challenges the chosen one to provide salvation to herself', or so they claim, but the context Arthur gets that it's a far more antagonistic relationship than the other two. And it has something to do with 'glyphs visible to the stars'. It feels time-sensitive.
Lilian Rook	Ishirou's badge gets him through to the First Circle, and the historical city that the fortunate and the valuable live in. Traditionally, this would be the elite district that the Enlightened deign to visit when they show up, in Lilian's homeland, and the site of the ruling Clan's main holdings, from his time in Japan (he hadn't actually seen one in Nevada), but here, it mostly just looks like upscale city. Banks and government buildings, records keeping, a university and complex manufacturing, long distance communications, advanced hospitals, old world luxuries and parks and ample space, people who own cars. Lilian's home had explicit, purpose-built, highly-regulated permanent connections to Hidden Content-side extensions of the Urban Center, essentially putting the most important amenities 'offshore'. That's probably the case here too, but there seems to be no trace of any of those permanent transitional spaces. For all intents and purposes, it seems like there's no way to the Hidden Content from here at all. There are Warpgates, none of which are big enough for mainstream commercial use, but without knowledge of where to go, he can't really hope to use them in that way. It strikes him as possible that the local Enlightened might exclusively use them, and use secrecy to simply prevent anyone else from ever going the opposite way. He'd have to catch and interrogate (or mindscan) someone from there, though. He is gently barred from scanning any of their travel records.
Trudy Grimm	At the end of the day, Norse and Rus aren't terribly different. The languages are harsh; just in different ways. The people are hardy and proud and known for violence; just in different ways. For each person Trudy questions, she listens intently and thanks them for their time before moving on. By the fourth individual, though, she turns away and only then allows herself a little frown and a thoughtful expression. The crow on her shoulder hops, rattling slightly inside its skin while warbling over her disquiet. It's enough for her to place her hand on the bird. There won't be much in the way of spirits, here. But it isn't sitting right that those who die outside are just left to rot in the sun. Time for a more Northern approach to gathering information. Through with playing Tourist, Trudy boisterously enters one of those taverns she was recommended to with a shout and that distinctive, genuine, gremlin-esque sharktoothed smile of hers. It's time to ply soldiers with alcohol and ask them about the Urals. What their plans are, how the operation is going, what kinds of foes they've encountered, if anything big is coming up. She's quick to claim they don't have to share if it's classified. That she's just curious.
Rita Ma	Rita is, naturally, quite embarrassed about accepting someone else's coat- but in the end, accept it she does. A soldier's clothes can't help but be too big for her, but that just helps keep her hands warm with its over-long sleeves and lets her pull her knees up inside the torso. She accepts the alcohol, too, and might entertain them by making a really funny face after her first sip. Then she talks quietly into her phone, expression growing steadily more clouded with each answer she gets. "Ah... you're sure?" "Mnnn... okay." "No, thank you. It's a big help." "Yeah. Stay safe, okay?" As she gets up from the bench, her head's swimming with possibilities, none of them particularly illuminating or particularly hopeful. She finds the soldier who'd lent her his jacket and insists on returning it, with a polite and grateful bow. "Oh, but, I was wondering..." She pipes up while handing the jacket over, as if it'd just occurred to her. "There's a friend of a friend I'm worried about. I think they might be in the Urals sometime. Can you tell me anything about the soldiers who go there? What they're told, what they come back saying? It's fine if you can't. I'm just a little scared."
Lilian Rook	Bond's drone can go quite a distance. Though the gains were mostly 'to a reasonable detection and first response' radius in Europe, and 'whatever they felt like defending during the Onslaught' in America, here there not only appears to have been a long distance push for some time, but efforts to re-naturalize the area too. He can only really surmise that magic must have been involved in husbanding the landscape back to this level of life, even if it's pretty fucking boring life, all things considered, but fish in streams and birds in trees, spotted by the drone, is an anomaly, globally considered. There are places that look like former campsites, of odd size and scale, along the river, semi-recently used. Standard G.D.F FOBs begin to appear where the landscape darkens and the ice abruptly intensifies (at least, it looks like ice?), and a few checkpoints dot the landscape, but what stands out are chiselled stone totems spread out with some regularity along the roads and river. Given the covered tarps left with them, they could be moonshelters.
Tamamo	Tamamo spends a bit more time in that private bar, making at least enough small talk as necessary, and allowing herself to put away a considerable quantity of drink that doesn't penetrate her blessings quite as well as she allows others to believe, to avoid drawing any greater scrutiny to the nature of the meaningful questions she continues to ask. "Oh, are the mountains so strongly held? Has the purification -- ah, the reclamation, you would say, of the land -- not reached close to this point? Are there giants still abiding?" Whether she means Giant-class is unclear. "Oh, but if it is some other source," implicitly, Americans, "then they would be far from home, and have little to root them, yes? I would not expect much resistance, against those determined to see the roads opened."
James Bond	The soft glow of the viewscreen on the drone's control device illuminates Bond's frown of concentration. A lot of travel outside the city, under the circumstances. Maybe even some protection from... The Man in the Moon. Bond's fingers squeeze the ctonrol device until the warning squeal of plastic under duress snaps him out of it. The Man in the Moon. 'If it sees, consider it gone. If you look, consider yourself dead.' The drone banks, coming back over to Bond's SUV and landing with minimal bumps just a few feet shy. He collects it, dusts it off and places it all back into the briefcase, shutting the tailgare with a grunt. The face of his supposedly analog watch flickers, winking out and replacing itself with a map of the area sourced by the drone. Climbing back into the driver's seat of the SUV, he starts it up and heads out for one of the campsites--preferring to leave the moonshelters be. Guided by a projection of the map onto the inside of the windscreen, Bond pulls off of the road. Gloves on, he begins searching through the nearest campsite for signs of who might have been there. His money's on 'soldiers,' given the unusual size, but without any hard leads, he supposes he might as well turn over what stones he dares to turn over.
Lilian Rook	Trudy finds that the tried and true methods of getting soldiers hammered in drinking contests is still a perfectly good way to induce loose lips. The kind of soldiers she finds out and about are informed on a very need-to-know basis about large scale military options, which is normally very ordinary for soldiers, but actually sort of baffling here; it's not like the fucking Antegent are spying on them and devising counter-strategies at weird alien campaign tables. It shouldn't really matter if soldiers know high-level military objectives. What she can glean is that there's an ongoing operation to build up a permanent base near the Khanty-Mansi Urban Center, and transition combined forces from across the eastern half of the country via secure convoy routes over a period of several months once it's ready, which will be used as a staging point for operations into the mountains. The main objective is securing a permanent transport route through it, somehow. The construction is ongoing, and the timetable is set to begin in spring, so there's as much time as possible to begin operating before winter arrives again. They don't really know what they're going to do after the first year, other than 'secure the range'. The word is that the government is focusing on concentrating their most elite and experienced forces. Credible word is that they'll be jointly operating with the Immunes as well as the native Enlightened, which has some soldiers excited. Apparently they have 'the blessing of the Víla' in this respect, down the grapevine.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: What's visible to the stars? Arthur tries to solve this one. He was thinking something similar to crop circles, massive glyphs visible from space, but nobody with a bird's eye view has mentioned that -- and besides, wouldn't it be already a known factor? Well, maybe not, given the russian hierarchy's hostility to sharing things... The taller buildings are in the First Circle. It shouldn't be too difficult to find one that he can stealthily Gate on top of, then take a seat and try to amp up his magic. How are glyphs visible to the stars if they're not on the surface of the earth? It's a combination of his analytical abilities, his magic-detecting abilities, and his pure astronomical knowledge that he puts to use now, mapping out highly visible planes, analyzing the relative positions of notable stellar constellations to the surface of Earth near Russia, or even just opening up magical-sensory channels as wide as he can to detect something broadcasting particularly to stars... Or at least a large, organization-scale association with them. Who is that group? If he can find that out, he might be able to find out who they're challenging.
Lilian Rook	The locals, of course, assume that blonde-haired and fair-skinned Rita must have a friend in the army (or else why would she know or ask about the mountains in specific, and why would her friend be there?). She is also small and cute, the men are frequently buzzed, and a few are the 'she'd be about your age . . .' type. She gains similar operation about some of the particulars of 'Operation Winter Hazel'. Combat staff, including analysts, don't really return from there, but they assure her it's because the construction was only started in spring this year. They say that, even though no official numbers of troop movement have been given, large numbers of spec-ops and mechanized assets have been dedicated, as well as intelligence officers and professional Antegent analysts, but also, oddly, pre-Onslaught veterans, including e-warfare, counterinsurgency, and e-warfare experts, who have no particular relevance to capturing Onslaught-lost territory. They assure her that there should be no particular reason to fear for them if they aren't primary combat role personnel, and express blithe, unconditional acceptance of the government's right to secrecy about the issue. They say that, in addition to having just recently received the green light from the Immunes --itself a high bar, requiring that the local issue is of best interest to humanity as a whole, and not partizan national prosperity, as well as of such considerable danger that the G.D.F cannot be expected to handle the bulk of it alone-- they have rumoured support from 'the old ones' extirpated from the mountains by the encroaching Antegent, willing to bless and fight alongside humans. The worry is the double-edged sword of news between a 'territorial dispute' between Antegent, surmised by secondary evidence and eyewitness sightings. Antegent don't actually war amongst themselves in any serious capacity; only the very powerful kind are known to mark known boundaries, and are known to rebuke lesser varieties from entering them. It's both good news, in that they can take advantage of these areas, and bad, in that it means Dragon, maybe even Titan, Class Antegent may be lurking there.
Trudy Grimm	If anyone had a chance to out-drink the Norse, it's the Russians. And yet, the more Trudy drinks with the soldiers, the more smashed they get-- and she continues to be completely unphased. She listens intently to the answers she's getting. But the northerner has herself some good laughs, spreads cheer, and gets the well-wishing going for those preparing to deploy-- as well as the welcome-backs for those who've returned. Mention of the Immunes perks her ears though, and she leans in on the troops who share that one. Particularly those who get excited about 'native' Enlightened. "Oh? You seem pretty happy about that. Are there any you know of? Some local or legendary hero you're excited to meet in person?" Beneath the table, safely out of sight, the crow that was accompanying her scratches away on a notepad; clutching one of its own tailfeathers in its beak as a quill, jabbing the inkwell inside its stuffed body periodically; for the creature is just a bird's skeleton wearing taxidermy, fulfilling its master's wishes.
Lilian Rook	It doesn't take long for Lilian to follow Tamamo to the bar, not particularly liking the idea of her socializing with a bunch of men buying her drinks. Ultimately, her frigid aura does little to dissuade them, as they only decide this is another woman to buy drinks, and incessantly ply for good stories about how the two know each other. Some some reason, even with Lilian wearing upscale clothes, bogarting a stool by Tamamo, and visibly reassuring her that her ears are fine, demanding to 'check her hands too', they pick up the assumption that she is, also, a soldier. Tamamo's answers come easily. The mountains are so shitty to traverse that even the Antegent couldn't navigate them easily, and it seems that even many of them must respect the reality of Russian winters, not uniformly being arbitrarily immune to the physics of cold and what it brings. They were ceded immediately during the Onslaught, and used as a convenient point to hold the line while migrating refugees inland, as much as possible. The nuclear arsenal was mostly spent on the lowlands, where they'd be most effective. As such, the mountains almost all the way across Russia are inhospitable and unknown quantities, too hazardous for the G.D.F to prioritize, too inconvenient for the Antegent to stage attacks from, and too dense to effectively recon or bomb. They do, pessimistically, expect the mountains to be a hellhole, and are glad the government is taking it seriously, claiming the Kremlin never would have. The assertion of American presence bothers them. Of course, it's easy to attribute to the urban legend of not-humans in the outlands, but assigning a nationality is too specific. If they were foreign operatives, they'd be America's own Enlightened elite, not rank and file soldiers or ordinary spies, and probably planted long-term, but then there'd be no possible reason for them to be operating out in the most hellish places on Earth; if they were enemies of Russia, they'd simply be planted in Urban Centers, and if it were one of the Phantom Circle's many simmering feuds and power plays, it'd take place near Enlightened assets. Since there have been no direct conflicts, the half-assed theory is that they must be searching for something. There might know about some valuable something dating to the masquerade era, left behind by the Onslaught, perhaps. Who knows. The government might even be competing with them to reclaim it.
Lilian Rook	Travel out to the campsites is thankfully not too fraught, being a couple of days before the new moon. It also tells Bond some very significant things. Up close, the semi-permanent supply stashes at the campsites aren't stored with modern materials, but boxed in laminated wood and bound with leather and rope. Timbers and hide are stored in such a way that could be used to quickly construct a shelter, which is unusual because it isn't as if there are any deer to hunt and skin, meaning they can only be pre-Onslaught materials. Barely a nod of the head is paid to things like flares or ammunition or packed meals. He can only really presume that most of the stored material is either related to magic, religious rituals, or preferential tradition. These camps are not used by the army, that's for certain. A few odds and ends look nearly identical to what he's seen Lilian's subordinate, Arina, with. There are no tracks anywhere either, suggesting low altitude travel, probably by magic.
Ishirou	Hmm, they really are into the secretive part here. There was something up about that, why be this secretive? The veil was shattered, right? Something was up about that, but right now it was more interesting than necessary. He can find gates, that isn't hard. He won't be able to get in and out of them without knowing where to go. So he'll just camp one of them the best that he can, pretending to be doing anything else, before waiting for someone to come out of one of them. From there it would be just investigation, questions, and then a mind scan. Then maybe he can get some other info, to satisfy his curiosity about things! Win-win.
Lilian Rook	Arthur's difficulty finding literally anything remotely relevant to the theme of his query is as telling as identifying it. There are no space-relevant confluences or events anywhere within his considerably enormous range. The region's works of magic are, in fact, extremely terrestrial in spirit and focus. What comes as the obvious intution is that he wasn't being told about a literal formation somewhere close by, but that whatever group is tied up in the Bloom's fate has a relation to something from somewhere outside Russia, either symbolic or literal.
Lilian Rook	Alas, Ishirou's vigil is best summed up as sad_boy_in_snow.gif. He's quickly shown off for loitering, then stuck ordering infinite coffees at the nearest buildings from which he can kinda monitor it. It takes hours for anyone to come through, dressed far more heavily than the city folk, with a few of his buddies and a backpack each. Scanning their minds anyways, he learns that they've actually come from the mountains visible from the Urban Center; not all that far, but implying an artificial Warpgate in operation up there, and a permanent presence. Again, need-to-know airgapping makes things difficult even with unrestricted mental access, but he learns that there is a monitoring and early warning station up there, but also a numbers station and radio interception slash decryption facility, and a 'volkhv' on-staff who is acting as liaison to the local 'víla', for some upcoming task out west.
Lilian Rook	Trudy's new drinking buddies are mostly just excited by the prospect of a joint op. The sheer size of the country's combined military, and the delegation of duties therein, apparently keeps the average threat level fairly low, and the goverment is very particular about remaining as self-sufficient as possible, and is leery of letting even unaffiliated, international organizations, such as the Immunes, into the country. A few veterans contemptuously speculate that it's all just soft-propaganda, not wanting to give such a tiny number of people any kind of popular influence, over the state-mandated focus on the nobility of every man doing his part. It doesn't really matter, since the absence of Enlightened here makes people more curious and fixated on them, rather than anxious and wary like in Europe, or keeping their heads down and doing what they're told like in Japan. They'd like to see magic with their own eyes, primarily that of local equivalents of witches and shamans, as well as 'speakers to the cosmos'; those capable of asking the universe 'perfect questions'. They're also just hyped up about the prestige and bravado of taking on anything the Immunes are involved in, though. It's like being told you're going to join up with the Knights of the Round Table under the command of Zhuge Liang. There's an aspect of dread about just how dangerous the mountains are, and they're glad to have what might as well be superheroes around. They know of some famous war heroes, whose names Trudy is at liberty to take down, but barring meeting them in person, they have little interesting information except third hand tall tales.
Ishirou	The pieces they are getting are falling into places. Places that nobody is liking. Also after the eighth copy, he sighs. He's not going to sleep tonight. Well, he'll have plenty of work to catch up on...ha...ha. The next day was going to suck. He considers the gate. He knows where it goes, though on the other side it might be risky. The security for this is very heavy, and they seem very /very/ keen on op sec for this particular information. No, that'd be stupid and he's not Go. Or Bond. Bond might be more suited for that path, but he was not. He collects himself and heads out of the first circle. He'll meet back with the others and relay what he found directly to people.
Rita Ma	'Being around a large number of tipsy armed men' is just one of those disconcerting situations that Rita inexplicably takes to like a fish to water. One might wonder what her upbringing must have been like, except that several of those present have already gotten a fairly clear picture. There is a transaction involved that she's very familiar with, and more conscious of than she'd like to be; the exchange of youthful sunniness and plucky cheer, partially affected, for their concern and aid. The idea that she must have a soldier friend is purposefully implied and never contradicted. On being told her acquaintance won't return for some time, she acts a little disappointed; on being told they'll likely be safe, she puts on a look of relief. Neither of these feelings are lies, but they're more distant than she lets on. All the while, concern is brewing, but it only lightly touches her face. What do they need counterinsurgency specialists for? Are they going to hurt Oreshnika's people? When she leaves, she puts up the last part of the trade; a sparkling smile and an energetic wave goodbye. And then she's "alone", trudging through the streets. Her smile doesn't entirely fade now that there's nobody to see it, but there's a tinge of guilt to it too.
James Bond	Bond pauses, struck by the sight of laminated wood. Running a hand across the surface with an intrigued frown. With a barely perceptible gesture, his gloves activate the microphone hidden in the lapel of his parka. Turning around, to put his back to the supplies, he gives a brief scan of his surroundings. "I've got something," he says. "I'll be back soon." Satisfied that there's no movement, he reaches into his coat pocket and procures a pack of cigarettes--a distinctive ring of gold 'round a red circle serving as a prominent label. Appearances aside, the thing between Bond's lips isn't a cigarette. Water vapor floats into the air, conjured by a convincing fake, which, in reality, as a microcamera, the strangely shaped, tiny lens retreating along a track as the paper 'burns' via complex chemical interaction. Subtle movements of Bond's fingers across the edge snap pictures of the crates. He paces around the site, capturing also the near-complete lack of any mundane supplies, or signs of any army presence, all done with subtle gestures of a bored smoker. Bond pretends to flick it away, once it's spent--but rolls it between the web of his fingers, slipping it briefly up his sleeve to roll into his hand just as it dips into his pocket for the keys. "Someone went to a lot of trouble to set this place up. There's not too much in my wheelhouse I'm afraid," he reports, his voice displayed as waveform on the radio, "But I think you'll rather want to see these for yourself. Whoever it was those are meant for, it wasn't the army. There are... shelters out here, too. I think you're meant to use them to keep safe from the Man in the Moon." They can talk soon. And after, I can see what the Russians have for drinks, these days.
Arthur Lowell	>Arthur: Do some contemplating Arthur looks out to the horizon. A mountain operation with an auspicious name, with massive human resources moved to it. A mountain with another auspicious name, and at least three interested parties... shit. He rubs his face as he stands up, heaving a sigh. This one's gonna be hard as hell, he can already tell, plenty of complexity. Well, if they're taking on Immunes for this, he's got an In, and with his participation in the Siberian Operation, maybe it'll be enough to learn more, to see where this is going. >Arthur: Go find those military dudes! Sign on! He casually walks off the edge of the building, straight into a gate. He'll have to go see Winter Hazel is being put together, and get involved... maybe. If that's even possible! Either way, he'll have to show up.