EVENT ★ RECOLLECTION DAY

[futurologists]

RECOLLECTION DAY On the recruits' return to Oska, they will find some dreary weather, plus the entire castle and town decorated in purple and silver. Ribbons, streamers, and lights in ALASTAIR's colors fill every populated space, and there are more people milling about than before: humanoids and others in equal measure, all of them dressed in ALASTAIR uniforms of some degree. Dagny, Uruz, Cherenkov, and Crowley can be found among the others, as can recent recruit Pomarr, the undead Dakal from the last mission. The weather seems to be due to Pomarr. It's generally overcast around Oska, but the in area nearest to their newest recruit it will always be softly raining to some degree. THE FEAST Inside the castle, one of the many studies is decorated lavishly in the same purple-and-silver scheme as the rest of Oska. Today the kitchen is porting food directly into this room, where it's set out along long tables at the edges of the room. You can find anything here, food to suit any kind of diet from any kind of planet at all. There are no promises that all food will suit all diets, though. But still, if you want to try the bubbling pot of orange with the little worms that keep trying to struggle out of it, no one's going to stop you. A well-dressed, gently green lady stands at the center of the room, nursing a wineglass full of something silvery and addressing the room at large. She seems to be going over the history of Oska, to anyone who will listen. The gist of it is that Oska was once an entire world, densely populated and well known for its music and carefully bred hunting companion animals. However, its energy was severely unbalanced, and the world was swiftly coming undone. ALASTAIR recruits of the time realized it was the very animals the natives so loved that were the focus of all of the planet's energy, but by the time they had finally figured it out and began to cull the animals, it was too late. This little scrap is all they managed to save. What locals remained eventually died out, being too few to repopulate by themselves, and ALASTAIR opted to move in and reclaim the space, so as not to let this world go entirely forgotten. With their very base of operations as a reminder of what can happen to any world at any time, ALASTAIR of today is not likely to forget the necessity of their mission any time soon. Come for the food, stay for the slightly depressing story, and leave again fuller and maybe a little more somber than you were before. THE OBSERVATORY This room is usually home to a large telescope, a ceiling that slides open, and a lot of gauzy, ethereal decoration. Today it's been cleared out for what seems to be a room-wide, three dimensional documentary, playing on repeat throughout the festival. Images of a vast star system are projected into this room from no identifiable source, floating holograms the viewer can walk between and admire from any angle. A deep, soothing, presumably male voice speaks over the moving images, describing the action as it unfolds. In the beginning, there was one universe. It was vast and eternal, and most importantly, self-sustaining. There was no reason to doubt it would go on forever. The images at this point are on a cosmic scale, an impossible number of tiny stars swirling in silent patterns. We don't know what shattered the harmony, we only know that shatter it, it did. We call this the Cataclysm. This part is clearly an artist's interpretation. Slivers of light snake across the universe like the cracks in a broken window, shaking apart the entire scene. Some of the broken sections implode onto themselves in beautiful colors; some of them spread out and consume their neighbors. It's beautiful in a way, and probably completely visually inaccurate to whatever the real event looked like. The voice continues: The Universe became the Multiverse. The harmony is broken, and the energy no longer balances out. Worlds are thrown into disarray and chaos, some burning out immediately while others struggle on as they are able. There are even dozens of iterations of the same reality existing in some places, just barely splintered from one another and overlapping in impossible ways. The shards of our formerly united reality are nearly limitless. There are flashes of worlds as the narrator's voice continues. Each one lasts no longer than five seconds, filling the room and then flashing into the next scene. These are flashes of real worlds, broadcast up from the mysterious Viewing Hall and all of its mirrors down in the dungeons. Recruits watching diligently enough may even catch sight of familiar scenes. This is ALASTAIR's duty. We travel from reality to reality, doing what we must to equalize the energy. The necessary tasks can vary wildly, as wildly as the realities themselves do. In some worlds we find great success, snatching them from the brink of destruction and allowing them to continue on, rebalanced. Some worlds cannot be saved. The images shift, this time replaying old, completed missions. The variety is huge here, too. One team of blue humanoids dressed in ALASTAIR purple struggles to pull a mammoth out of a tar pit. Two small, doglike recruits dash through a dark alleyway, dodging laser fire. A team of something human-shaped but bundled up in spacesuits climb carefully through the weightlessness of space along the outside edge of an enormous spaceship. The narrator has just one more line to add: Ours is no easy task, but if not us. . . who? The informational recording fades out, and five minutes later, plays again from the beginning. THE COURTYARD Down in the courtyard, the festivities continue, this time led by Dagny and Uruz. They have a great number of temporary pens set up in the middle of the area, each one holding a strange, fantastical animal, which doesn't seem at all happy to be there. These are new mounts, Uruz will explain. Each one of them was personally rescued from a dying world by Dagny and herself. They're not quite tame yet, though, and so they've made a competition of it: anyone who can convince a creature to let them sit astride its back and then guide it into a pen in the stables proper will win a prize. Dagny would like to request that you be really careful, please! Those tusks and spikes can get really sharp. The prize given to any winning recruit will be a small, silvery musicbox. Opening it plays a soothing tune that will calm anything within the area for about 30 minutes. It can only be used once. Feel free to make up what kind of creature your character runs into. The stables of ALASTAIR are well known for their variety! LOST ORBS Have you ever wondered how Oska is powered? Well, obviously it's plasma orbs, how else? Oska's resident cats have been hard at work creating more of these, to the point that those not yet in use need somewhere to be contained. The problem is, these things are mobile. They'll float anywhere they please with some kind of debatable mind of their own, and lately it's not been uncommon to see two or three of them floating idly down the hallway together. Crowley and Cherenkov have requested recruit assistance in corralling these things and bringing them to a room set up to keep them in on the third floor. They're a bit like slowly deflating helium balloons, and can be guided with gentle taps to get them floating along in the right direction. Touching one of them is a strange experience that tends to leave hair standing on end. Touching more than one of them at the same time, however, is not recommended. Simultaneous contact with two or more plasma orbs has been known to have strange effects on people, including but not limited to developing the power to fly, sudden weightlessness, animal shapeshifting, ice breath, teleportation, and creating a protective and impenetrable bubble around oneself. None of these effects lasts longer than two minutes, and in each case, the following magitek hangover will make any orb-toucher feel awful for at least half an hour. HOTSPRINGS There's a new addition to Oska, down by the lake. It seems another team recently extracted an enormous, very hot core from a sentient and murderous AI. The core's power source isn't expected to run out for at least another thousand years, and unsure what else to do with it, the team dug it a pit not far from the lake. They failed to realize that this would accidentally have a very, very pleasant outcome. There are now hotsprings by the lake, nestled into the small grove of trees that grow around it. The water bubbles softly up from the ground in a new (technically man-made) pool, and some enterprising recruits have built wooden decks and stairs around and through the whole affair. It's a little bit of a hike to get there from the castle, but anyone who has visited can agree: it's worth it. OOC INFO Welcome to the festival! This will ICly last for 3 days (and OOCly for 2 weeks), at the end of which the other teams visiting the party will ship out to other missions and leave the PC team to unwind with Oska all to themselves. Through the duration of the festival, recruits will find themselves asked one question repeatedly: do you new guys have a team name yet? It seems everyone else has a team name! Really, it's just sort of sad that a team this big doesn't have a name, isn't it? We'll be including a section for characters to ICly suggest team names, and later on will be hosting an IC vote to pick a team name. Characters who signed up to remain in Nalawi for three months will arrive late to the party, but how late is up to players.

Comments

natasha romanoff | ota

[expatriates]

THE OBSERVATORY

Holograms scatter in projections around her in a manner reminiscent of SHIELD tech—full interactive holograms, used primarily for specs and strategizing—and to a certain extent, that makes her feel more at ease with it. But SHIELD tech doesn't belong here, and all this explanation of Cataclysm only leaves her with the same unease that comes after listening to a sermon: someone earnestly and genuinely believes this, wants her to also, but there's no proof in it. Just a preacher on a pulpit.

Natasha watches the images around her shift, takes in the sight of old missions, of worlds that she does not recognize, and wonders if any of them are Asgard, if Thor would know something of this ALASTAIR and their mission, if they could only contact him, if this is what was really waiting for them at the other end of the bridge the Tesseract created.

There's no answer. Only more questions. So when it turns off, she sighs, and recognizes that she can only accept it at face value, in the absence of further information, remarking to herself in a dry voice, "As propaganda goes … not unconvincing."

THE COURTYARD

The longer she wanders, the more apparent it becomes that this world is a far cry from Earth, which unfortunately gives her no evidence here or there on the subject of whether they both split from the same Cataclysm. By the time she finds the strange animals in the courtyard, she has gathered that this is Oska, somewhere in-between, a home base of sorts, so it's with curiosity that she circles the pens and takes in the strangeness of their celebrations.

Rescued, they claim, rescued and thrust into cages. She approaches the pens with the creatures in them, taking a good look at the tusks and spikes with a grimace that acknowledges just how dangerous they can be, but more importantly estimating their sentience, their comfort in the cages—after all, these beasts are apparently receiving asylum in these pens.

observatory

[hyperverbose]

[ tony was busy having his existential crisis and natasha has a plus sixty-three to her stealth checks even when she's not trying, so it's probably... no surprise that he doesn't actually notice her until the end of the holographic reel, once it shuts off and he finds that she was standing on the other side of the galactic map the entire time.

his consternation over the message is replaced with bemusement at seeing her standing there, and for a long moment he just stares at her, before finally piping up, skipping immediately over any expressed surprise at her being here too, despite the fact that he feels an honest flood of relief, mixed with the other complicated emotions that seeing her brings, after the way things rolled out at the airfield. ]

We should see if their PR guy hires out. [ hi. he means hi. ]

[expatriates]

You think we have a PR problem?

[ She donned an expression of put-upon injury, as though the mere insinuation hurt her only feeling, but as it wore on it seemed one shade from a smirk—it also functions as a convenient evasion of whatever concern, panic, or relief she might feel at his presence. Truthfully, Natasha chose not to examine which it is, but rather keeps on the alert, aware of her exits.

Tony had given her an out once—that meant something to her, but it also meant that it was a kindness he could choose not to extend a second time. One pass was a warning. She couldn't count on a pattern, but she also suspected that here, there was less to worry about from General Ross and the Accords that she had violated. For now. ]

[hyperverbose]

I'm not sure there's a great way for 'superhero team tries to pummel each other' to get sliced. [ just sayin'.

he gives her a measured look for a moment, so that she gets to guess whether he's going to talk about it or not, but instead he actually jumps to the chase. ] So. You too.

[expatriates]

Hoping for someone else?

[ Straightening her spine, Nat crossed her arms beneath her chest. Business, then. She knew how to recognize when she didn't have anywhere to slip away to. ]

It's not the worst position we've been in. [ In fact, if anything, it seemed to have simplified certain things, removed the bureaucracy of saving the world by streamlining it—assuming ALASTAIR could be trusted, of course. ]

[hyperverbose]

[ he ignores the question, mostly because who would he even name? there's an uplifting thought. he's just teeming over with them lately. ]

Right. At least this time, somebody else's world is on the line. [ that's not what she was getting at, and it's not even a comment with his heart really in it - as much as earth being safe means to him, it doesn't mean he won't care if something happens to another world on his watch. but it's what slips out anyway, his gaze slipping back to the starmap that lingers behind them. ] Which one do you think is Asgard?

[expatriates]

[ It said a lot, she thought, that both of them were looking for friends in an inscrutable collection of holographic pixels. Too much. She decided not to comment on it, her gaze drifting to fix on him while his slid towards the stars.

He looked tired. They all were. ]

Whichever one it is, it's probably not close enough for an SOS.

[ If he'd even answer. ]

[hyperverbose]

You believe all this? Planets having unbalanced mojos that lead to galactic crises? [ he's still of two minds on the subject. mostly, it seemed oversimplistic to him. things went to hell because of a number of variables. because of choices, conflicts, a perfect storm of hate and fear with enough big guns in the mix.

then again, maybe all that darkness had an energy of its own.

it was a tempting thought, to think they could balance it out. it was what the avengers were originally intended to do, really.

he can't help but think about ultron. ]

[expatriates]

[ There was a grief Tony got about him when he was sinking into the tar pit of his own self-loathing. Nat liked to think she had a fairly easy time recognizing it, easier than the others, not least of all because she had felt a similar sense of responsibility in the past. ]

Maybe they felt like we had Earth under control.

[ Maybe that was why they didn't come to clean up his mess—their mess, if she were to be more fair. Just as much as she doubted the realism of it, she doubted the reason in the argument; could an outside force really have the right to come in and make that call, change the fate of a whole universe? Saving it, yes, but … It was a dangerous sentence to track to its natural conclusion. ]

I believe there's more than what they're presenting us with, but if someone slipped through a gap in space-time, they'd probably have their reasons to doubt our motives too. [ Decisively, she concludes: ] I'm reserving judgment.

[hyperverbose]

Might give us a chance to see what's out there, at least. [ because if you think tony stark has ever stopped worrying about what intergalactic threats are out there, you are dead wrong. so you know. more nightmare fuel is gr8. ]

[expatriates]

Let's hope we don't save any worlds that resurface as a problem for our own.

[ Hopefully, what ALASTAIR found out there had nothing to do with what they might, but she could not deny a certain pragmatism in the use of their predicament as reconnaissance. ]

You're restless. You don't trust them?

[hyperverbose]

Everyone has an agenda. [ even they do. as evidenced by this very conversation. ] I just want to know what theirs is.

[expatriates]

And "the greater good" isn't a good enough answer for you.

[ She wove no judgment into the estimation, but rather pointed it out to confirm that they were both on the same page. That kind of altruism didn't come cheap, and rarely gained power. It was a lot to ask, buying it up from. ]

[hyperverbose]

I think there's been plenty done in the name of the "greater good" that winds up betraying the brand. [ he knows. better than most. ] Best of intentions don't always translate in the long haul.

[expatriates]

Then play for the long haul. [ She turned towards the door out of the observatory, folding her arms behind her back and keeping a carefully neutral expression. ] Take a look around. Enjoy the party. We're not the first ones to get recruited by ALASTAIR.

I LOST IT SO LONG AGO TOO cries i'm sorry

[hyperverbose]

What do you make of these other guys? [ he's only rubbed elbows with a few so far, but... ] I'm not sure they're what I expected.

[ i mean, they ... probably feel the same. ]

never forgives you

[expatriates]

They seem to be enjoying the ride. Whether that's the right call or not, I couldn't say.

[ But they are, for now, the best source of information either of them have got—certainly more reliable than any ALASTAIR officials could be, than their propaganda is. That makes them a resource Natasha can utilize. ]

I think the festival makes it easy to get them talking, and everyone likes to tell a story. I'm hoping before the night's over, we can hear a mission report or two.

but

[hyperverbose]

Tongues do tend to loosen when the booze is flowing.

too late to apologize

[expatriates]

That goes both ways.

[ She arches an eyebrow. ]

Watch yourself, Tony. We're short on friends these days.

don't you onerepublic me

[hyperverbose]

[ WOW HE IS OFFENDED ON SEVERAL LEVELS ] I know how to work a party.

also too late for that

[expatriates]

You know how to throw a party.

[ She lilts up on 'throw,' to emphasize the but not work. There's a grimace in her smile to soften the blow. ]

observatory

[healplz]

It's kind of beautiful, for what it is. Ashraf hasn't seen much through this display that's particularly uplifting or optimistic, but — beautiful, yes. He's left still gazing into space as it all fades out between showings, mentally replaying what he's seen, what it all means.

Natasha's judgement of it stirs him back to the present though, and he glances to find — a stranger. Well, that's perfectly fine, there are an awful lot of strangers around here.

"Propaganda?" He sounds amused by the word. He hadn't considered it that at all, it's an interesting take. "Not entirely sold then, I guess."

[expatriates]

"I didn't say it wasn't effective," Natasha answered, a smile on her lips before she turned to look to him, glancing over Ashraf as if to evaluate him snappily. She loosens her posture, dropping her hands to her sides and inviting the conversation, regardless of the potential holes it could poke into her general decision to act as though she were on board with the party line of heroism.

"It's propaganda whether I agree with it or not, if its function is recruitment. I'm Russian. I've seen enough to know." After a pause, she arches her eyebrows and looks back up at the holographic starlight and laughs. "I guess I'm wrong to assume everyone here would have context for what it means to be Russian."

[healplz]

He's pretty easy to evaluate, all things considered. Ashraf is a tall, broad shouldered guy in ornate robes that are intricately decorated and usually quite beautiful, which have presently seen better days. There's also no shortage to cross motifs in the design, in case she was wondering about profession. (Either someone holy or someone really into religion.)

"You got me," he admits, "My world came without the option of being Russian." But context helps, he can make a few assumptions. He strides forward slowly, experimenting for himself with passing a hand through the illusions, and looking very impressed that it isn't solid.

"Still, though, if it were really doing its job, I assume you'd think of it as... an informational overview. Knowing what to call it says a few things about the one naming it." He tosses over a friendly smile. "I'm guessing that's where being Russian comes in."

[expatriates]

"Russia is … You might think of it as an endless, bitter winter." And despite the unpleasant description, a hint of fondness still shone for her old country in the crinkle of her nose. With the distance that she had, she was able to appreciate the good parts of it without feeling bogged down by the bad, especially by how the bad influenced her own personal history. "You don't survive in a place like that unless it's at the cost of someone else."

The candid nature of the description came out fluidly, for it was hard not to draw comparisons between the rhetoric of an authoritarian state with that of an organized religion, and she had to wonder if Ashraf didn't have his own experience identifying propaganda. Perhaps that gave him too much credit for self-awareness, or maybe it demanded that a holy man might acknowledge the dubious nature of religion's belief system in a way that was unfair. Regardless, she kept going.

"Eventually, the government realized that forced cooperation was the most effective means of managing the people and the resources: they called it communism. But when I say you can't survive unless it's at someone else's expense, that goes for the government too. They have a long history of corruption, with those in power subjugating the people for their own gains while convincing them that it's in their own best interests."

She gestured up to the holograms. "Russia was a beautiful country. And we all believed in it. But people select the information they provide based on what they want you to do. ALASTAIR wants us to help fight the good fight."