Demens Chosen IC (Personification Life) [CLOSED]

[Cerillium]

IC THREAD ITERATION XII WAR ISN'T HELL— War is war, and Hell is Hell. And of the two, war is a lot worse. There are no innocent bystanders in Hell. War is chock full of them. - Hawkeye Pierce, physician THE OOC THREAD | SITREP | DRAMATIS PERSONÆ | THE BUILDING | FORGING OF GALLIMAUFRY | THE OMNIVERSE - PL PHYSICS | ARCHIVE JOIN | ONE-SHOTS, TRIBUTES & QUIRKY STUFF | ROLE PLAY HOW TO'S | COMMUNCATION TIPS | PÆDAGOG

[Cerillium]

Chapter One

---

It took some doing, but eventually the Residents shuffled into the dining room and found their seats. This was the first time in ages that everyone managed to gather, and it served as a reminder to just how diverse the population actually was. Brutish cyborgs kept company with lovely women and handsome young men. A pony, a gigantic waterbear, a furry purple foxlike creature, a rabbit, and two reptiles chatted with their human neighbors. The six-legged space weasel chose a booth near the windows and perched there to better communicate with the dragon-like monster - more accurately, Scel's head and neck, as she wouldn't fit in the dining room proper. (Iso was urged to let her be - "that's a sentient Resident, for fuck's sake!") More menacingly, FUBAR the Drone kept Opa the droid company in a corner, having taken the elevator up. And the Cultists had finally come out of the woodwork - World War II German and British soldiers lined the walls, sat upon counters and dust bins, huddled with each other atop the (dangerous!) vending machine, or simply sat cross-legged just outside the shadows. The most confusing, perhaps, where the paper Residents - the embodiment of those currently away on missions. They looked perfectly normal and would have been mistaken for the real thing had people not added 'Paper' to their names.

The brays, hoots, twitters, squeaks and whines joined in harmony with the human-generated noise in a room perfumed by coffee and the lingering scent of waffles. Someone called for air, and Ocho cracked the dining room windows wider to let in the spring breeze.

For the newest Residents, it was a bit of sensory overload. Their neighbors made an effort to welcome them - providing them with too many names to remember, and too many stories that, without context, seemed too fantastical to believe. One thing was apparent: it didn't matter what the new Residents wore or where they came from, or even what they did. They were part of the community now.

A hush blanketed the assembled Residents as Neste and company filed into the room. Thaddeus raised a hairless brow as he took in their attire. Never in the history of the Building had a force presented so sharp an image. The uniforms alone made the cultists' threadbare attire seem like rags.

Black trim outlined stiff dress uniforms of grey, gold, and silver. The cracked windows provided the appropriate breeze - perhaps sent by Demens himself - to add a little flutter to the long coats that accompanied stiff boots and starched collars. Self-assurance radiated from the people in them, but none so much as the lizard in the lead. Hers was a commanding presence that whispered all the qualities one would find in a veteran officer. It was this elusive quality that drew Thaddeus' eye to Neste and, as was her intent, captivated his attention. It took him a moment to realize that Klaus and Minerva flanked her and Septimus followed in-tow, themselves in the same uniforms and with Minerva's fiery locks pulled into a tidy bun. The faint smile gracing the latter's face put his mind at ease.

"Good afternoon." The black-clad lizard's white scales sharply contrasted with her uniform as she stepped behind the table. Her companions joined her at the front of the room and took their seats, but Neste and Septimus remained standing. The pale lizard took center-stage in front of the table, the Building’s representative flanking to her left, and she began, "As most of you are aware from our excursion at the island, Demens expects us to up the game. We intend to do so. Septimus, if you please?"

The cyborg dutifully nodded, pulling off a grey uniform cap from his head and setting it on the table before pulling a small sphere from his pocket. He set it atop the same table and a thin beam projected from it, moving images dancing across the wall behind them.

"Our history has not been without challenges," Neste continued as the projection of a wave of Drones crashed through a city now long gone. "We have faced machine empires. We have faced raptor invasions. And we have faced the forces of Cthulhu. Each time, we rose to the challenge. Each time, we had our asses handed to us because we were not a cohesive unit. Yes, we won, but it came at great personal sacrifice. We can not afford to be lone wolves anymore. If we are to achieve Demens' objectives, we must unite. We are all chosen. His Chosen. Banded together, we are a force to be reckoned with."

The image shifted to reveal a larger version of the insignia gracing the chests of those at the front table. "As Demens Chosen, we have a roll to fill. I propose to do that by organizing us into an effective, a clandestine paramilitary organization. Our role is to procure the necessary supplies and personnel needed for the God War. We are covert, ladies and gentlebeings, until such time as we are called to fight for the greater Cause. Demens himself has blessed this idea."

Realizing there were several in the room unaware of the current situation regarding said war, Neste added, "If you have newly arrived, I will be available afterwards to explain what the God War is."

Murmurs rose from amongst the residents, many excited and even more of them nervous and fretful about what their position would be in this war. Many had grown up in the shadows of bloody conflict, and the same thoughts gripped them behind focused eyes. All would be expected to give some; would some be expected to give all?

The strings of light projecting from the sphere froze and revealed new images - crisp breakdowns of each team member’s profiles - their strengths, weaknesses, skills, and so forth. For now, only Neste and her accompanying cadre were in the system, but that would change after this meeting was over.

“As you know, I am Overseer Trilb, Commander of the Demens Chosen Operational Branch,” Neste gestured at the projection as it paused on the slide with her information displayed, “My prior military assignments include a brief stint as Aufseher for the joint-forces Convocation-Chaos Panzerdivision during the Drone Invasion. Prior to that, I was attached to Enneagonon 437-1, a division of the Convocation Classis overseen by the GNC Hereward Proelium through an appointed Tenth Iteration Tier Magister Utriusque Militiae. I operated at that level, which is a roundabout way of saying I led a division that controlled the solar interstellar neighborhood within a nebula, serving in the Earth-equivalent rank of vice admiral."

Sensing that perhaps some of the Residents would be intimidated - not unduly so, for her resume was quite a beast, Septimus added, “To put it bluntly, Commander Trilb is a brilliant mind and an equally-brilliant soldier. With your cooperation, she will ensure that this war ends favorably and with few casualties.”

Adjusting his collar, he added, “That being said, the Overseer will not be the only officer managing this undertaking. Working with her will be some of the finest operatives the Multiverse can bring to bear.”

Neste’s profile scrolled to reveal Septimus’ own, and he stepped forward to introduce himself.

“I will continue acting as the official representative for the Building and will be facilitating diplomatic interactions with any factions we meet,” Septimus explained, rubbing his hands together, “I will also be training a cadre of diplomats to act as liaisons with any factions we decide to establish permanent relations with.”

"Thank you, Colonel Itum,” Commander Trilb nodded, and his profile profile scrolled to reveal Minerva’s, and the crisply-dressed woman rose and stepped forward to be introduced.

"Commander Blackwater has long held the fort here. An experienced leader and someone that I would trust explicitly, I see no reason to change her assignment." Neste stepped back to yield the floor.

Minerva bowed her head in acknowledgment of the compliment, and then took in the Residents assembled before her. How many battles they'd fought together! Fresh faces peered back at her, curious as to what was going on. These new Residents sat beside veterans, slowly integrating into the group. They brought Minerva hope.

"I'm rather familiar to some of you. I'm an unknown variable to the rest," Minerva's warm contralto and crisp British accent aligned with her tall stature and authoritative demeanor. Here was a woman accustomed to battle. Only her eyes betrayed her gentler side. These rested upon each Resident in turn to convey her respect of them. "I have served you since my arrival here, often in the shadows. As the Overseer has stated, that role will not change. I intend to continue to function as the Building's Administrative officer. My role is to see to your safety and well-being, but also to continue to provide us with the support we need in order to do our jobs."

She paused to observe the new Residents' reactions. There was a lot for them to absorb, especially as many were not used to a modern command structure. "We have become more organized recently, to better function for the benefit of Demens. There are two branches in Demens Chosen: Operational and Administrative. I am the Commander of the Administrative Branch. I've newly appointed officers serving as my staff. This will allow you to network with the departments you feel you are best suited to serve in. I'll introduce them quickly so we can get on with the briefing."

Some of the staff were scattered throughout the dining room - obvious due to their uniforms - but most were seating at the front table. She acknowledged each in turn, giving them a moment to lift a hand in greeting or else nod before she moved on to the next. They needn't say much. Each projected slide summed up their credentials nicely.

"Our Chief Medical Officer is Major Anais Adarah. She will handle hospital management on the fifth floor, supplies for missions, and the vetting combat medics.Those of you with medical training, or who are interested in learning first aid skills should seek her out after the meeting."

Nodding, the Eurasian woman stood up. Her customary outfit of shells, bones and chitin were gone, donning a new uniform with very few ornate attachments that were necessary rather than accounting for personal tastes. She looked to the audience before her and spoke in an even, but pleasant, tone, “Some of you know me as leader of the Guild, here, and many more I’ve yet met. But the health and wellbeing extend beyond my own group and I highly encourage anyone with medical experience or interest to see me after the meeting. We will discuss our goals and expectations then. Thank you.”

Minerva didn’t doubt that more a few Residents would knock on Anais’ door. She moved on to the next name on the list. "Sturmbannfuhrer Heinrich Volker - Volker, you're out of uniform! Go visit Will when we're done - Major Volker will continue as our Admin and Personnel Officer. See him at the Front Desk if you're feeling lost or have nothing to do."

The Front Desk Cultist clicked his heels together but remained mum. A quick glance at Klaus confirmed that the new uniform would indeed keep his inner daemon - and old Flesh Hound by the name of Bachstelze - contained as well as his old uniform did.

"Major William Bailey will continue on as our Supply and Logistics Officer," Minerva continued. "Lieutenant Alexia Conrath will handle medical supplies, and Lieutenant Mathias Strand is tasked to manage magic ingredients. You should visit them if you need something. And they may ask you to gather things for our teams."

The three uniformed officers - cultist, Guildie and naturopath - nodded in turn; there would be time to mingle later.

"Sergeant Major Gunther Gunther will continue to oversee the armory,” Minerva added. “I believe he's out gathering ammunition at the moment. Hydroponics and Gardens will be overseen by Major Dexter Usseio. He, too, is out on a mission. Seeds from the Wold, if you must know."

She turned to acknowledge two men standing off to the side. It took Thaddeus a moment to overcome his shock at seeing the head of his religious order outfitted in one of the black uniforms. Though it conformed well to his body and allowed the tech priest's augmentations free movement, old Adrastus still looked cumbersome and, well, perpetually huge.

"Lieutenant Colonel Cosmos Archimedes Adrastus," she met the old cyborg's stare as his extensive bio illuminated the wall behind her, "one of the best mechanics in the multiverse. He'll continue as our Chief Engineer for the Building." Her gaze slipped onto the scarred man standing next to him. "Lieutenant Temir Talgat will serve as his counterpart at the Boilerplate headquarters." His own bio spoke of a strange religion, a machine cult not unlike that which Marcus and Thaddeus were devoted to. Alongside said description laid an impressive list of skills, mostly related to maintenance and repair, though a few combat disciplines rounded out the mix.

"We've divided our motor pool in the same fashion," Minerva continued before either could speak. "Master Sergeant Maximilian Grey for Boilerplate, and Master Sergeant Mia Grey for Building."

Thaddeus' eyes briefly studied their slides. Both seemed prior military personnel though the organization was unfamiliar to him. Though it was a bit rude, he raised his hand to flag Minerva's attention. "Boilerplate?"

Minerva's briefing was concluded so she yielded the floor to Neste.

"Boilerplate, Major Usseio," Neste came forward once more. "The Boilerplate facility is located deep within the Outermark, here on Gallimaufry. It houses mission equipment as well as a teleportation point for the Floating Void Gatehouse. You can't even begin to imagine the red tape Colonel Itum and I had to wade through before Dweezle would approve it. But this brings us to the Operational Branch."

Having outlined all the people the Residents could approach to contribute their part for the Effort, Neste folded her hands in front of her. "Let's open the floor to questions about the Administrative side. I'll kindly ask everyone to bear in mind that we have more to go. If you plan on participating in military missions, we'll get to that in a moment. If you have questions about where you personally fit in, if interested in working a department here at the Building, please see one of these staffers or Minerva later. She will also explain the rank system to those confused by it."


Collab credit: my fantastic CoOPs (Tilt, Min and Swith) and our favorite revolutionary, Agy.

[Ganonsyoni]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo Research Base, Veraka, Xo'Lokako orbit, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

Kale was happy to hear she picked a fitting disguise. She thought it was good intuition, when it was most likely luck. Seeing as Venla was going to go with a similar disguise, it would be suitable to act as her underling.

With the calls to head off coming form Venla and Romulus she quickly added some finishing touches to the disguise, adding some more "fur" to the stripes, before heading off and following behind. The girl had a skip in her step, clearly excited to go down on the planet. Despite everything that has happened so far, it was feeling more like a vacation than a mission. And to be quite honest, Kale needed something like this.

[Swith Witherward]

RESIDENTS BRIEFING
Dining Room

Myra's thin hand slowly rose to flag Minerva's attention. The room was dead silent, compounding the poor teen's perpetual struggle with her low self esteem. Oracles hid in Gatehouses, a quiet and reassuring voice to teams on the Other Side. But socially... most were like Myra, timid nerds at heart. Too shy to approach Minerva in person, she habitually pinned little notes to Lad chests whenever she thought something might need to the woman's attention.

"Yes, Ms. Bones?" Though her voice was kind, Minerva's presence has always intimidated the girl. The Commander took that into an account and prodded her along after several heartbeats passing without any inquiry coming from her. "Did you have a question, Myra?"

"Yes'm," Myra's hand shot to her lap to join its twin. Fingers nervously playing with her uniform's fabric, she tried to push aside the feeling of everyone's eyes boring holes into her. "Do you, um, have offices and stuff? I mean, like is there a place we go if we need you all? After the meeting, because now wouldn't be a good time..."

"That's an excellent question, Myra," Minerva offered a smile to the now blushing girl. "With the exception of those assigned to the Boilerplate facility, or those handling the hospital and its sundry, you can find everyone located just off the lobby. The door to that area is right next to the phone booth. Offices can be found there."

"Next to the phone booth?" concern pinched the girl's facial features.

Minerva's smile widened. "The teen club room is still there. Don't worry. I certainly won't hassle any of you retreating to it for some relaxation."

The Commander's words restored Myra's smile. She folded her hands in her lap. "Thank you, Ma'am. Oh, and our extra uniforms?"

"These will be issued to every Resident depending upon where they'd like to serve. Three to a person, send the clothing portion down with your laundry and the priests will send them back up fresh and clean." Minerva's eyes twinkled as scanned the girl's face, "Anything else I've missed?"

Myra grinned. "No, Ma'am. But if I think of anything, I- I'll just do like I always do."

"I'm perfectly fine with that, Ms Bones," Minerva nodded. "Alright, any other questions out there?"

[Chedastan]

Paper Romy
Dining Room

As the meeting began commencing, the Paper General had quietly took out his notepad and started jotting down what was being said by Neste and Minerva with a pen at hand, and adding extra notes along the way. He wrote clearly enough on the notepad about all the administration and staff positions listed, and who the Residents were that were heading those positions, he made sure that the information would be easily understood by his real counterpart when he receives it after he returns. Which for Paper Romulus' sake, hopefully sooner rather than later.

He eyed the new uniforms shown with good interests, as he liked the idea of the Building finally having some uniformity to it. And them having official uniforms seemed like the first steps to them moving forwards from being a unorganized cowboy outfit, and actually being a cohesive force to be reckoned with, besides from having a clear leadership roles established obviously. He was curious about the style choice though, and how he didn't like how black they were, but that was probably just him being biased from having spent a life seeing highly reflective colored fatigues from his own rank and file men.

He then caught that neither Neste or Minerva didn't mentioned any sort of combat training program to be put in place for Residents, which seemed a bit of an oversight to him. Also he began to wonder as to why he wasn't given any sort of staff position in any sort of area in the Building it would seem, which was odd, given that fact that he was a former General.. Or well the real him was, he's just the paper version representing him. Still though, it only remains that he ought to at least give either himself or the real Romulus something to do that's probably worth while.

He stood up after Minerva spoke again, and took the floor. "I would like to go on to say first of all that I am only the Paper version of our General Romulus Aphrodisiac, and I'm here in this meeting to represent him on his behalf. But likewise, I'm still him in almost every way, besides being made from paper, and having a better attitude than him for sure." He tried not to grin at himself and then continued on to what he was going to say.

"I'm just going to ask, will there be a position for someone on staff to train our Residents for combat and combative roles? Because I don't believe such a role was already mentioned, and I think it's an oversight if there isn't one. So I simply propose that our Resident General should get started on the creation of that position in staff as soon as he returns so that our Residents interested in combat aren't left to fend for themselves without a code and structure to fall on in our missions. Obviously for those that need it of course." He proposed to both Minerva and Neste, but then realized that he could technically do the job too as well, but if that were the case, but where would that leave the real Romulus to do?

"In the event that such a position should be needed to be filled as soon as possible though, I'll be willing to fill in such a role myself if need be, if only temporarily. I have all of his knowledge in my head, I've remembered fondly all the things he's done." He paused, knowing all too well of the horrors the real him has committed, but also the heroics he has done at the same time, it was an odd dissonance he had to hold onto. But he knew though that Romulus deserved at least something more than whatever it is he's been doing for the past few months, and he needed to do his damn job as a General for one thing.

"Look, whatever it is you guys decide for him, that man needs to just start doing something more General-like again, he has a wealth of experience he can give here if he can properly implement it. And I just don't want to see that go to waste on just performing missions day by day, he deserves a lot more than being just a tank on the field." He finally finished to them, hoping he could at least provide the real Romulus with something to do besides going on missions and not much else. Hopefully he was right about the real General though, he prayed that he wasn't wrong about him and misjudged his character.

[Mincaldenteans]

Colonel Fluffy
Dining Room

Fluffy had risen from... nesting... in his spot, for lack of a better word. His strong, tall legs easily put the Colonel at almost ten feet while his feathers instantly caught the air, giving his body a bit more volume. He cleared his throat for a moment and made a graceful bow of his head, spreading his wings with the gesture.

"Colonel Fluffy of Her Majesty's Royal Air Force," he introduced himself to Minerva and all in the dining hall, its British accent apparent.

He looked back up, adjusting his monocle for a moment and continued on, "I am curious about communications and the structure behind it. Given our varied backgrounds," a wing gestured politely to the Residents around him, "I presume we will be provided with a means to remain in contact with each other at a moment's notice? Or would such equipment be given only during specific events?"

[Holy Lykos]

Sidney Bechet

Certainly was an interesting group of characters here, wasn't it? Sid thought to himself, listening to the questions and answers, glancing over the assembled crowds. All looked like nice... people? Was that the right term? He'd have to figure that out, definitely. Hopefully Amaranth was also getting all this, he'd hate to repeat it all to the apparition if it turned out he couldn't perceive while not fully manifested. Hopefully he could. The hamon user sniffed again, before standing himself up. He did have a question, though, and a comment.

"I could potentially help some with training. More in guerilla tactics though, rather than true soldiering." He tacked onto the General's statements. "It would be good to teach various kinds of skills within the standard. Not everyone has talents that could fit the same skill set, and diversification makes any paramilitary group flexible in my experience."

"Onto my question though: What about the jobs that might be a tossup for being in Admin or Ops? Things such as espionage as a set up for a full mission, for example. It has been a few decades since I've been in a war or any sort of military or paramilitary group.

"I'm guessing based on the subdivisions mentioned that Administrative includes all support personnel. Would training fall under Adminstrative then? And what would those who seem to be academics do as part as the Administrative branch? Will there be research conducted into sites that may hold useful materials and equipment for us, or the like?" The later two were brought up due to him noticing another new person, who seemed an old school academic from his world, at least slightly. Some sort of researcher or professor type, not much of a fighter at all and didn't seem much of a doctor.

Sid sat himself back down after his questions were done, waiting for the answer. He sat himself up as straight as he could though, trying to keep a semblance of what military drill he had gotten from the Civil war. He was having trouble remembering the exacts though, it'd been so long and a lot of that war he'd spent chasing after vampires rather than directly fighting the enemies of the republican side.

...That talking bird was rather odd. A British Ostrich?

[Tiltjuice]

RESIDENTS BRIEFING
Dining room

"I feel certain the Overseer would know best to place the General," Luce spoke up mildly, after giving Myra an encouraging smile. The glass of iced tea was still in his hand, and its contents sloshed visibly; fortunately, it was only half full.

Paper Chrys, in her turn, jumped in surprise as the door nearest her swung open as quietly as the woman passing through it could manage, before the meeting started. Although a stranger to most of the Residents, the Boilerplate crew - Dune Runners, as they called themselves when alone - immediately recognized Calani, as did some from the Building who had visited the facility. She took a seat in the back; while she didn't yet have a clear picture of what she would be doing, interrupting would be rather gauche. For now, at least, it seemed as if Minerva had things under control as far as questions from the Residents went. A possibility sprang into mind, and then was filed away, alongside a mental note to check Ascalon's penal code.

She smoothed down the front of her uniform, the black contrasting sharply with her red hair and blued-steel eyes. Sid brought out another possibility, one she liked less; but war had a way of scattering likes and dislikes to the four winds. Still and all, she would try to avoid...that...as much as possible.

[Highfort]

SEPTIMUS ITUM
Dining Room

Septimus nodded at all the questions being asked. Good, everyone was taking a keen interest in the meeting. It came as a bit of relief to the cyborg that they wouldn't have to struggle with getting everyone on-board with the reorganization of the Building. Training them and dealing with the actual missions at-hand would be difficult enough.

"That's correct," Septimus replied to Luce, affirming his answer to the Paper General, "The uniformed staff you see before you have done careful data-driven analysis and compiled the portfolios you see on the data sphere to determine the optimal officer assignments. That's not to say these things are set in stone - there will be room for shuffling people around as skill-sets solidify and we determine who is best at training, leading mission teams, handling diplomatic matters, and handling logistics."

TEMIR TALGAT
Dining Room

The monocled ostrich's question piqued the interest of the tinkerer, who had moments before been trying not to fall asleep in his chair. He kept his stance ramrod straight, having developed the habit from years of late-night sermons aboard the Great Khan, but his eyelids had been listing during the meeting. Late nights spent maintaining the Boilerplate facility had taken a toll on the older mechanic.

"There's a working comm network at the Boilerplate facility," he piped up, standing up from his chair and stretching, the cracking of several joints betraying his age, "It's linked to what the Techpriests here at your... Apartment Building... have developed. As far as I understand it, Commander Trilb and Commander Blackwater have requisitioned some basic earpieces and miniaturized radios for use on missions. Kindred Spirit willing, they won't be needed for any emergencies back at home, but providing them for daily use shouldn't put a strain on supplies."

[Monfrox]

Sergeant Kafka and Paper Brit
Dining Room

The Sergeant nodded along, her intellect playing very well into the role of listening. A former intelligence officer (if that's what you could call her for running errands all the time) turned Special Forces soldier thanks to significant advancements in reverse-engineering psy influence of the Zone's creatures; She knew when to open her mouth and when to keep it closed, and right now was time for the latter.

Paper Brit, however, stood up quietly after gaining the courage to do so. As representative of...herself (boy, that was a bit redundant, wasn't it?), she felt it her duty to do things in best interest for the well-being of...well, herself. She had hoped the real her had managed to make it home before this time, but such was not the case. And despite earlier telling of some teens about Brit's less-than-stellar state, she needed to put everything out in the open. But not here, no.

"Ahem...uhm. Paper construction filling in for the good Ell Tee while she's...uh...out doing....whatever she's doing. Probably something important. Ah...anyway! Heading off what Mmmmiss Bones?" Paper Brit was more like her real self than she realized as she stumbled in the awkwardness of calling someone about her own age "miss". "What was said about the offices. I know you have, or will be, getting assignments set up for the Residents, but I'd like to ask you to hold off on my self's for now. Pending that, I also need to request a meeting with the officers. It's urgent, but I don't want to divulge the information here."

[Fvaarniimar]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo Research Base, Veraka, Xo'Lokako orbit, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

The apparent pink-chitoned Xo male shook her head.  "This is quite odd...but I will become accustomed to it."  Kale's disguise was fairly attractive, although the lack of green startled Rmwtyliin.  "You look nice...but we all are dressed for summer. Venla, you said it is very cold?"

Once that problem had been addressed with borrowed clothing, the group realized that the time had come for many things - notably, to board the shuttle.  Nervous, Rmwtyliin sat, only to find herself squirming. "Venlah, where bahthroom?" Listening to the given directions, she headed off, only to hear a scratching noise...

[OOC: Scooting etc. done at sciurine request.]

--

Meanwhile, it had taken some time, but everyone needing to be back for the Residents' meeting was close enough to someone wishing for her presence. Around mid-afternoon, paper-Rmwtyliin had finally woken up and dealt with explanations of her nature. Mouth set in a determined line, she'd headed down: at the moment her duty was to provide her "real" self with information. Confusing though that was, she could pull it off...

Which brings us to the present. Seated towards the side in an outfit far less formal than she would have liked but which admittedly was less out of place than a ballgown would have been, the girl was writing fairly detailed notes in Fvaarniimarn, omitting such fluff as complete sentences. Occasionally she found herself throwing in moderately snarky/irreverent commentary, somewhat to her surprise.

Meeting starts soon.
- Everyone nervous. Loud.
-Different, too: like [fish drawing] in sea. More kinds of people here than thought.
-Many welcoming new. Not self - writing for you.
ALL QUIETING. Sptms, Mynuurva, Friend-KwB lizard, syborg cult, etc enter. Uniforms - gold, black, silver, grey. Orderly. Neat. Lizard leading, rest defer? She speaks.
-polite greeting
-reminder: Mr. zne. Demens requires improvement
Sptms: describes past invasions. Pathos appeal? Oh, FUNNY: "we succeeded but had butts handed to us cause not cohesive." Concern: win came with losses. My concern: "cohesive unit" sounds like army

Sptms' point: We need to unite against...most likely Eaters-all-sucking, problem them often. All Mr Demens' chosen - understand or not why. Cannot defend alone, group can? Note I assume best, choose words hence - careful.

-uniform symbol. Proposal (lizard): we organize as beyond-army organization.

Our task: obtain supplies, people needed for Foreign Spirit War, hiding missions.


Dwellers here excited, nervous, worried.

-I think profiles shown.

Overseer Trylb
- our new boss.
Title: Komeendur.
- Previously military, authority over many peoples. Guard, or slaughterer? Smart. Sptms says will help bloodshed end quickly, few harmed.

Seeptymys Iitum
-uncomfortable? Fidgeting
Continues representing Dweller group
also will TRAIN GROUP OF DIPLOMATS AS LIAISONS to factions.
Title: Kuurnel


Mynuurva Blaakkwatuur: also Kommeendr. Has respect and trust of Kmd Trlb. Experienced leader. Acknowledges compliments, examines crowd. Cheerful. Now speaking.
- Some know her, not all. Looking at me! Nodded. I hope fine? Attempting to show all respect? likely not ploy.
- Serving in shadows in past (literal?)
- Dwelling Administrative leader, Administrative Kmd
- her stated role: Keep us safe healthy happy, help all do jobs (included self in statement)
-Two branches: Operational. Administrative

---

Administrative - Kmd Mnrv has staff to help you communicate with preferred departments. Concerned by time passing

Medical leader: Anaais Aadara
Managing: [Modern numeral 5], mission supplies, verify ability heal when combat.
Mnrv: See her if have or want medical training.
Also uniformed. Now speaking - confirms Mnrv comment.

Sturmbanfweerur Hainrik Volkur
- no uniform
Mnrv- public scolding due to that. In charge of people. See if lost or bored. Front desk.

Williiam Beeli
- Supply, logistics.

Aleeksia Canrad
MEDICAL SUPPLIES

Mutiias Strand
- madjyc ingredients

Visit all as needed, all may request aid from you.

Sardjent Important Gunthr Gunthr
Weapons

Important (Medjor?) Dextr Usseo - water gardens.

Luteenent Kuurnel Kaasmos Arkymeedis Adraastys
-Thaddiys very surprised
Saiborg, giant. Excellent at very confusing job.

Title: Chif Endginiir for dwelling

How many more people can there be?! Is Mnr

Luteenent Temir Talgat - same job elsewhere - Booilurplet headquarters

Lake of vihyklz: Title Master Sardjent
Here: Maia Gre
There: Maksymyyliun Gre
Relatives?

Thds asked - finally. Booilurplet is new facility, has equipment and gate to Gate.

Kmd Trylb requests administrative questions, mentions more to discuss. I do hope you enjoy Zo

Army talk soon.

See staff or Kmd Mnrv for help finding place or if have idea where. Also hierarchy, titles.

---

Woman has question. Young, hesitant. Maira.
Mnrv encouraged shy Maira very kindly.
Reach offices go through door next to Tiin meeting box in lobby.
All Dwellers have uniforms now - add to laundry

Pepur Rmls: Mentions similarity to irrelevant. Nominating self for nonexistent position. Shocked that you have not nicknamed him something rude.


Bird twice my size asks about communication devices like sel fon for all.

Cultist (male) points out that Kmd Trylb can place Rmls the overconfident, entitled braggart.
Krn Sptms: Cultist correct.  Staff may be shuffled but are set for now.

Temir mentions devices requested for us, little ear cones, other like sl fn

Bryt (pepur) requests urgent private meeting with staff. Guessing problem with real Bryt: asked to hold off on any assignments to real self.

[Holy Lykos]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo Research Base, Veraka, Xo'Lokako orbit, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

"It is rather cold, yes. There's cold weather gear in the lockers in the shuttle, which we'll wear under the disguises. They aren't very stylish but should help. My home is more tropical than this, but my species is used to the cold oceans, so I'll be fine. Humans not so much." She replied as the group stepped into the shuttle after they passed the various beings that were assessing damage in the hangers and hallways of the station.

The interior had a similar aesthetic to the station, with metalic and smooth lines with geometric patterns and bright lighting overall. The bathroom, as Rmw requested, was in the rear end of the shuttle, near the small cargo bay. The main area of the ship had spaces for them all to sit, along with safety belts and harnesses in case of emergencies. The cockpit was open to the seating area, and Venla lumbered up to get the shuttle on and going. Previously mentioned lockers were in the cargo bay, as were various tools they may need on the surface. There were a few weapons too, but those were unlikely to be needed.

Once she was settled in her seat, Venla worked at getting the autopilot switched on for the trip to the surface. "I'm no pilot, so we'll have to rely on the autopilot."

----

Back in the rear of the ship, Rmwtyliin would find something quite interesting. The scratching noises only continued as she approached. Right as she reached the door, it opened and revealed a rather startled rat-like alien. "Cah!" It shouted, pressing the button to immediately slam the door and lock it.

Rmw's brief look at him would make it clear that the being was obviously terrified, and about her size. It had no visible weapons or armor, in fact it seemed to be wearing rather tattered clothing. A survivor of the plant monster perhaps, but it seemed to hold no interest in killing Rmw on sight. In fact, it spoke through the door after a few moments.

"Er... Human, yes? Not one of the ghastly Huvi definitely... You're not here to kill Etzic, are you?" Apparently this Skritar did know how to speak common, belying what Bencarr had been telling her earlier. "Etzic not leaving here, they'll kill Etzic!"

[Fvaarniimar]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo Research Base, Veraka, Xo'Lokako orbit, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

Turning off the device, Rmwtyliin froze, seeing a new sort of alien who...actually looked kind of like Elka.  Skritari?! She/they were speaking, and didn't seem to be attacking.  The human girl listened, backing up a few steps.

"I do not kill people!  Who is Etzic...Your companion?  If you do not mean anyone harm, maybe you do not need to leave, but....well, you are in the bathroom, and I must pee. Please let me in! I promise not to attack." Rather nervous, the girl fingered the button to activate her disguise. Venla's appearance change had startled her a great deal, and their new "forms" reasonably could be described as monstrous. I might have time to run to the group after using it?

Absentmindedly, Rmwtyliin reached for some hair, only to find that she'd braided all of it. Should I tell the group? This person sounds scared of them, and they really might... but I too could be in danger... Backing further away, she worked out the conditions of temporary silence. "If you have any weapons, put them outside RIGHT NOW... I refuse negotiation. Do not throw the instruments of bloodshed. I want them out of our reach. I will not pick any up or use them, and if you will do this I will enter and use the room and not get anyone - yet."

I don't think I saw anything, but if they are as violent as Bencar said... "I carry nothing dangerous...but I come from a weird place, and my people can make a very loud noise at a pitch you cannot hear but the Huuvidu-Zaani easily can, and if you try anything I will call them IMMEDIATELY!" Rmwtyliin hoped that her bluff (for that's what it was) was plausible enough so that the creature would not chance it. "I hope they are nice enough to not hurt you, but if you harm me...maybe they will not be nice at all. I doubt Etzic would like that."

[Holy Lykos]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo Research Base, Veraka, Xo'Lokako orbit, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

There was a long silence, before the door opened again and the alien pulled her in with one hand. Its eyes seemed shut tight, the ratlike alien covering its eyes with the other hand. The door locked behind Rmw once more as the alien made a point of turning away from the toilet. "Etzic is this Skritaar." It pointed to itself with a long, fur covered tail. The fact it could point with it implied the limb prehensile, or near to it. "Etzic likely to die if Etzic leaves this room, like the rest of Etzic's family. Human need not worry, Etzic has no weapon."

Now that Rmw had the chance to actually see a Skritaar up close, they didn't seem quite as dangerous and deadly. The species had a long furred tail that was practically longer than the rest of them, a very ratlike head with small ears and a long snout with rather rodent-like teeth, and brownish grey fur. It had quills along its head and down its back, much like a porcupine. Given it was about the size of Rmwtwylin, it was almost more cute than menacing. However, this one's clothes seemed rather tattered, with bandaging wrapping around one of its legs and part of its chest.

"Etzic just wants to go back home, or to safety." There was a light lurch as it seemed the ship took off for the surface. The Skritaar let out a hiss of displeasure. "Too late now though. That witch of the Huv-zaan slaughtered the Skritarii. Skritarii ship captured too and the Huv-Zaan are not pleasant captors." The skritter obviously had seen pretty much everything, including the fight, yet managed to survive. He must have been the only one able to get to safety before the monster had arrived in the hangar.

"Just forget Etzic is here. Etzic is a good hider, so this Skritaar will find way to live on Xo planet."

-----

"There we go. It won't take too long for us to get to the planet. Thirty minutes at most." Venla spun her chair around, nodding to the two humans still in the main room of the shuttle. "Val'ti is the name of the main town in the islands we're visiting first. They were always the most receptive to our visits, to the point us huvidu-zaan could walk among them without disguises. Humans too. I thought it the best place to start, really."

[Cerillium]

RESIDENTS BRIEFING
Dining Room

Annoying buzzing broke the pause moments before Minerva was to address questions. Lads frowned at their War counterparts. It wasn't beepers or phones tucked into the Men's pockets however. They simply vibrated like human pagers.

"Retrieval Team summons," Volker muttered under his breath. Demens timing was, as usual, atrocious.

Rudolf excused himself from Steingrímur's side, quietly explaining that he'd return shortly so the man didn't feel adrift, and then pointed to the buzzing Men. Six shrugged off the tops of cabinets and the (infernal!) vending machine. The Team offered a salute to Volker (which was returned) before falling right through their shadows.

"Please excuse me," Volker himself rose. "It appears we have a new Resident en route. I'll hurry it along." He side-shuffled between rows of his seated neighbors to make his way back to the Lobby.

"While Volker's out, we can cover a few of your questions," Neste smiled. "Training and Communications are both part of Operations, which is the next portion of our briefing. I've tasked Major Emily Loquitus to handle the Communications Department. Her team are the ones that handled things for us in the city during the Drone War, and upgraded your phones and other devices when we first arrived. Major?"

Loquitus was living proof that tech priests took their devotion to an extreme. More machine than human, the only indication of her gender was her honey-tone voice. Her form displayed the versatility of the new uniforms however. A harness secured pouches and odd tools to her body, padding away any traces of curves. Dull thuds indicated her unnatural mass as she strode from a corner of the dining room.

"Good evening, good to see you all," the scar-hatched brown skin of her face lifted into a natural smile. "I handle C4. That's Command, Control, Communications, and Computer, for those of you more at home in civilian life. The Lads and Men just call me 'Mother', and I don't insist on formalities. Won't bog you down with technical terms right now. Teams on assignment will continue to use voice-only throat mics and canal earpieces to communicate between team members while in a dimension." She held out an open palm. People would need to squint to see the small, black mic clearly; the ear piece was translucent. "Would take an act of god for anyone but us to channel that frequency. Very small, very comfortable, takes a hell of a beating. Personalized to each team member to match your skin tone or coloration, for those of you like our fuzzy Jedi here. And, for those with non-humanoid structures, we'll adapt it. Even for you," she smiled at the ostrich. "I keep hold of 'em and make sure it's awaiting you for gearing up at the BP facility right before your mission."

She tucked these into a pocket and then held up a small device no larger than a Zippo lighter. "This is your paging device for when you've got your feet propped up. It makes a chime and can be set to vibrate, but also displays text. For those of you without sight, it can push up braille for your fingers. You'll notice this is all small. Don't you lose any of it!" She hrumphed to emphasize how displeased she'd be.

The pager vanished into one of her many pockets, replaced by a silvery orb. "This is what your team leader uses to talk to us back here in Galli. It's specific to that team. Does a variety of things. Can recharge a device, for example. This is your lifeline, and the most important piece of equipment you've got. I keep track of 'em and have them programmed and ready by time you're about to go through a Gate. I also maintain your trackers; those the things that let you go in and out the Gates."

The orb joined the pager. Mother folded her hands, no small feat considering her considerable girth. "Sometimes a mission might require a long term occupation outside Galli. My team rolls in to set up and manage your comms there. We do all the things we do here, but our supplies are limited. We stick to that base of operations... C&C... so don't expect the priests to roam around that dimension with you. I won't get into the more technical things right now. Happy to answer any questions you have once the briefing's done."

"Thank you, Major, " Neste nodded as the cyborg returned to her corner. "Now about training-"

She paused as several people perked up.

"I appreciate the offers to assist in training. However, before we can focus on specializations, we need to shape us into a functional unit. We need cohesion. Techniques vary from nation to nation. What works for the Convocation's forces won't work for Confederation, and the civilians here haven't learned the basics at all. To be blunt, I've seen some sloppy soldiering. Not only that, but many of you are unaccustomed to working with magic users or supernatural beings in combat."

Although Sandy and a few others were still away on a mission, there were a still spell castors scattered about the room. She met their eyes in turn as she addressed the group. "We do a great disservice to them by getting in their way on the battlefield. Unlike a sniper that can hold his fire, some of our magic uses expend their energy and spend time reciting incantations to use a spell. They can't hold their fire until you move. They can't quickly recover, especially if a spell is a one-time use. I'd like to see respect given to them as team members. After all, they've proved their effectiveness during our battle with the Fiends, just as they proved their grit during invasions. I firmly believe they are mission critical." Her eyes settled on Nila, who was happily tucked near Ocho and Scel. "To that end, I won't stand for a sour word said about magic users, especially from any of my former forces."

The color drained from the smaller lizard's face as she wilted in her seat. Most higher constructs had a healthy mistrust of magic, for good reason. The Overseer was one of the few that had grown accustomed to, if not fond of, magic users during her time in the Diplomatic Corps. Nila would not take her statement wasn't to be taken lightly. Neste would cull her rather than risk a team over her foolishness. It was a terrifying notion that overpowered any personal likes or dislikes.

"Arra, As'Chak," Nila bobbed her head.

Satisfied with her kin's compliance, Neste backtracked to the topic at hand. "This basic training will include everyone here, whether you plan to go on missions or not. That brings us to the person that volunteered to conduct the course. General Klaus, if you please?"

General Klaus wasn't an imposing man. His bearing was stiff, as would be expected from any former German officer. But his eyes were kind. He rose and stepped forward to take the spot Neste had vacated for him.

"You know me as Klaus," he began simply with hands tucked behind him to rest in the small of his back. "I won't go into my prior experiences. What good comes from pedigree and tales of great feats? They mean nothing to anyone unfamiliar with my past. I don’t care how tactically or operationally brilliant you are, if you cannot create harmony on the battlefield based on trust, you need to go home - your leadership is obsolete. My first job is to show you that I'm worthy of your trust. It is something we'll build together over time."

The Residents had gathered simply because a meeting was called. Some were undoubtedly eager to prove their worth. Others - those at peace with peace itself - were most likely wondering just how hellish their lives were to become. Klaus was not a man prone to fist shaking or gestures. Instead, he remained rigid and allowed his voice to rise and fall as was his wont, creating a compelling cadence and rhythm — an almost musical quality to stir his listeners.

"We are building a fighting unit that will perform tasks no other unit in the history of the omiverse has been designed to do." He paused to let that sink in. "We are so beyond elite that the most elite of forces would shit themselves upon learning we even exist. Take pride in that. Each of you are skilled. Some of you are potent. But together we touch the fringe of omnipotence. There isn't anything we can't accomplish as a team."

He hand swept towards Romulus. "The purpose of going through basic is not to belittle our veterans or their experience. These are good men and good women. They have faced many a foe and tasted the sweetness of victory."

Klaus' face pulled into a frown. "So why put them through basic? Why put anyone through its rigors? Our purpose, dear Residents, is to build esprit de corps - to instill a healthy camaraderie. Camaraderie. To have cohesion, we must gain familiarity with each other - our methods, our quirks, our strengths, and our weaknesses. Where one falls short the other rises up. Where one stumbles, the other powers on to bear that burden for a time. I intend to empower you, refining your knowledge and sharpening your abilities so that, when you hit the battlefield - be you a soldier, a medic, or a specialist - you will do so with confidence in your capabilities and in your fellow team members." This was the one element they had forever lacked.

"Here is the only part of my training plan that you need to know: familiarization, standardization, and specialization. First we will become familiar with each other. Then we will standardize the way we operate. Then we will break off into our individual specialties for advanced training. That is when I will turn to some of you to share your wealth of knowledge. Our veterans know their shit." A smile tickled his eyes and curled the corners of his mouth upward. "We'll see if they can teach it."

He turned his attention to Giovenith before seeking out Drova and Myra. He met Amanda's gaze before turning his own onto Nivea. "There are no weak people here. There are only people that have not tapped into their full potential." Icy blue eyes left her to alight on veteran and plebe alike. His voice took on a new treble, this one manifesting the pride he had in them all.

"I believe in you. I believe in each of you. Your determination, your will to succeed. It's buried within you. Together, we will harness it for a greater purpose. Together, we will face the future - not as individuals attempting to fulfill some vague destiny - but as a formidable and unquenchable organization determined to protect the weak, to liberate the unjustly shackled, and to preserve Creation itself by restoring the balance tipped by the Devourers. We are Demens Chosen. Gods help the foolish fuck that stands in the way of our objective."

Klaus snorted. "That is all." He turned to find Neste staring at him. White lids framed by dark lashes swept across her golden eyes. Her lips had formed into a thin line. He recognized the expression.

She stepped forward again having found the one thing that had been lacking within her own soul - hope. A gloved hand momentarily rested on his arm. "Thank you, Klaus."

He acknowledged her with a curt nod before reclaiming his seat.

"Alright," she turned her attention to the group once more, "now that we've gotten training and comms out of the way, does anyone have any Administrative Branch questions before we move on to Ops?"



THE ARRIVAL OF CECILE TUCKER
Lobby

The curious thing about Retrievals was that the teams never seemed to be gone long. Jumping from one dimension to the next without any need to worry about the passage of time meant that the team returned before Mother had even began her explanations upstairs.

The chandelier above the Front Desk began to rattle and sway as a bulb unscrewed itself. It inexplicably vanished inside its own housing. A dark ooze replaced it, slowly pouring out until it pooled on the Lobby floor. Volker gathered lease papers together onto a clipboard as the ooze took the form of Cecile Tucker. A book, a tissue, and an empty crisps bag dropped from the socket and then the bulb popped out and screwed itself back in place.

Volker peered over the counter top to survey the young woman. Poor creature was coming in at the most awkward time.

"Wake up!" he slammed the clipboard onto the counter to break the spell. As with all Residents, she would have no memory of the moment she vanished from her dimension, nor of her travel. Demens' sleep magic was potent.

Cecile would awaken unscathed, her book resting atop her belly as she lay prone on the floor. Such was the properties of the Building that the Lobby (like all common areas) would take on the form and decor of whatever she thought ideal for an apartment building. Some features never changed however: the front windows hosted a comfortable seating area from which to observe the pastoral landscape beyond the Building's front doors; a grand staircase and two elevators occupied the wall opposite the Front Desk. Several doors lead off the Lobby proper (these were marked "Maintenance", "Pool and Gym", "Chaos Quarters", "Bomb Shelter", and "Operations").

The man that had spoken seemed pleasant enough. His crisp accent betrayed his Berliner origins. Dressed sharply in a black, military style uniform, he looked every bit a professional of some sort. He smiled at her. "Good evening, Ms Tucker. I am Volker. You have just been spared a horrible death. You're Chosen, in fact, by Mr Demens personally. I'm sure you have many questions, and I'll answer them all, but they will have to wait."

He sighed. If things had been unfair for the last two arrivals, the situation was absolutely cruel to Cecile. At least they had time to process what had happened to them. "You are no longer in your home dimension. You're on a planet called Gallimaufry Mundi, in a dimension called - through a lack of imagination, perhaps - Gallimaufry. You've come at just the right time. There's a Resident's meeting upstairs. Would you like a moment to adjust?"

[Truth Incarnate]

Cecile Tucker

As a person of scientific thought and rigorous empirical application, Cecile was not very proud of the first observation she made when she arrived, nor of the fortunately incorrect inference that she made thereafter. They were, in a very particular order, that her head hurt, and that she was almost certainly drunk. Maybe she'd finally gone off the deep end. Maybe she'd suffered brain damage after several months of binge-drinking, and had lost all memory of the last two months, after her lab had its funding cut off or some such other unfortunate occurrence. Maybe she was in hospital recovering from a lab accident.

But no. The "bed" she was on was clearly a thin layer of carpet. The lights above were far too neatly arranged to be anything but a chandelier. The walls were too tinted with sepia and beige to ever be anything but a luxury apartment building, or any building built between 1920 and 1950. Her hand held the crisp pages of Jane Eyre, that one novel, with the chipped plastic casing in the lower left corner and the intaglio print of the bright, bold words on the front. The sound of what sounded like a judge's gavel punctured the muted mumble that she had been passively listening to before then, and she finally came to her senses, like a window had been opened for her mind all of a sudden.

Sitting up on the floor, Cecile looked up into the piercingly professional eyes of one sharply dressed administrator, who immediately began speaking with a rather noticeable German accent. Even with all the questions in her head, she decided to keep the conversation short and sharp. Well, if it could be considered a conversation at all, really. Oh god, he'd nearly finished speaking already... she had to pay attention to these shenanigans...

"Oh, umm... Thank you for your assistance? I'll be sure to direct my queries to you... Later? Oh, uhh... Galliemaufrie, uhh, yeah I'll try to remember that. So umm, I guess I'll be... Heading upstairs now. I'll take the stairs. Thanks for your... Time. Yeah, uhh, bye."

Moving with what could only be described as an over-eager desire to get out of sight and social situation, Cecile immediately looked around, taking in her surroundings. As it turned out, there actually was a flight of stairs upwards. She'd just been assuming their existence before. A lucky break, really. The lobby was grandiose, with a brass and gold chandelier hanging from the roof, teardrop-shaped lights illuminating the room with a soft orange light. The floor was red and brown, patterned in a massive fractal beginning from the centre of the room, like an infinite snowflake. Yes. She was definitely taking all the relevant information. The pattern of the carpet was absolutely the most important thing to be doing right now.

Taking a little longer to admire the fine make of the stairs, with their polished bronze railings and ergonomic spacing, Cecile made her way upstairs as fast as she could, ducking around a corner, clutching her knees and clutching her head in her hands.

There were many agendas to address, like why she was here, what was happening, why the government had kidnapped her and why they had put so much effort into this whole thing. She was a paranoid person at times, but this... This just seemed far to convenient to anything but a realisation of every motivation behind every off-the-books experiment, every little bit of hidden information tucked away in that endless morass of encrypted files and hidden caches. She looked down at the book she clutched in her hand, barely past the fourth chapter, and with an empty cellophane bag of chips tucked neatly into the corner of the book. The other hand seemed to be holding a tissue. It seemed that the very objects she had been holding had escaped her attention while her head had been spinning with wild conspiracies and confusion. Closing her eyes, counting to ten and waiting for her blood pressure to drop down to acceptable levels, she stood up, began making her way down the corridors, and tucked her "belongings" into the oversized satchel attached to the upper half of her pants. Pockets seemed to be getting bigger and bigger every day...

As she walked through the conspicuously empty hallways, she noticed that the doors and corners seemed to be placed in an illogical, random manner. Either that, or it followed a complex pattern that even her analytical mind hadn't picked up on yet. It wasn't long before it dawned on her how completely lost she was. Apparently there were hundreds of doors, branching corridors, unhelpful signs that pointed in no particularly directed... Direction. Rooms with signage written in unintelligible script, or Alphanumerical gibberish. She came across a bin, and without thinking, tossed her tissue and packet of chips in, almost not noticing the rather... Eclectic crucible of waste it contained, with shards of glass, a single keyboard key, and what appeared to be a rat's respiratory system. Truly, an enlightening experience.

Other than the sound of footsteps on carpet, and the sighs of frustration and annoyance that came every few minutes, the journey was quiet and uneventful. After a while, she came across a door with a great deal of light seeping out from under the door. There were several voices coming from inside, some commanding and authoritative, others softer and questioning. The smell of coffee, tea and breakfast came from under the lacquered wooden object that stood between her, and what was likely a group of people who she assumed were settled enough with their morning routine to give her some goddamn directions. Pushing the door open, she emerged into an entirely quiet meeting room packed to the brim with at least hundreds of people, a great deal of whom were now looking at her.

"Oh, uhh... Hey. Is this the meeting?"

[Fvaarniimar]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: Xo Research Base, Veraka, Xo'Lokako orbit, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

"Etzic just wants to go back home, or to safety. Too late now though. That witch of the Huv-zaan slaughtered the Skritarii. Skritarii ship captured too and the Huv-Zaan are not pleasant captors. Just forget Etzic is here. Etzic is a good hider, so this Skritaar will find way to live on Xo planet."

Lurching forward, the human made a beeline for the toilet. "Oh, YOU are Etzic! - Absolutely not. The situation on Xo'Lokako is not stable. They fear outsiders, and you would be attacked -"

Pulling down her shorts - she hadn't yet changed - and hurriedly using the toilet, Rmwtyliin pondered the situation. "I might be able to negotiate a truce of sorts between you and Venlah...the Huuvidu-Zaani in charge of this mission...if you, Etzic, really mean no harm. I have been told that they are never the ones to start bloodshed, only defending. If the wittch is who I think, Etzic, she does not want anyone hurt. Her talents and plants get out of control...which upsets her. Perhaps I could ask her to protect you...if so, would you accept her protection, Etzic? You can turn around now."

Washing her hands thoroughly, the young human frowned. "If you really are in as much danger here as you believe, Etzic..." And that had better not be the case! "There may be another possibility. I am uncertain if you could, but many are taken there, not just us...There is a plahnet you can maybe move to. Etzic, If it is possible, it means leaving everything you know behind forever...I think." The girl scowled. Why did I not remember my phone?! I could call and ask. Kale! Maybe - took hers? "You have bandages. Do you need any other treatment, Etzic? I am so, so sorry about your family."

--

Meanwhile, Paper-Nick sat near the front of the room - which let his flesh-and-blood counterpart's phone's voice recognition program easily if not always correctly register the dialogue of the meeting. Meh, I'll summarize the stuff that's missing later... In the meantime, he paid close attention, excited by the prospect of training...except...

Before he could chicken out, the cat meowed - and of course Cecile chose then to introduce herself. "Hi! Yes, it is. Um, Commander Overseer Neste Trilb? Will we "Paper" residents also be allowed to train?"

[Primordial Luxa]

Insidious
Dining Room
Something about this rubbed Insidious the wrong way. Maybe it was the fact that everyone else was taking charge and acting so capable when she simply wasn’t. As much as she wanted to think she was on the same level as some of these people she knew that deep down she was an artist not a soldier or a medic. Her ability to kill people and heal them was always dependent on a mere gap in technology. She had no real skill in the matter. How could she help these soldiers and doctors besides flashing some fancy technology?

Or perhaps it was the fact that she was being asked to serve a different deity. A god none the less, not a majestically aloof Outer God or a revolutionary singular Great Old One. Just a regular old god. Sure Demen’s was benevolent and helpful most of the time, but that was just the problem. He was too embroiled in the cares of mundane creatures for Insidious pretentious Luxan sensibilities. And what would this mean for her relation to her other faith? Could she serve the interests of Demens and fight this battle on his behalf and remain in tune with her true pantheon.

[Holy Lykos]

OPERATION: LAST CHANCE
DIMENSION: 4590K
LOCATION: En Route to Xo'Lokkako via HZ shuttle, Vim System, HZSC space
TEAMS: SECRET OMEGA TENTACLE

---

"Huv-zaan would rather kill Etzic than help. They are liars to Human. Huv-zaan 'defensiveness', just excuse. Many wars started by them as preemptive strikes. Not always no, but Skritaar colonies burned by Huv-zaan before. Last of them in this sector gone now, thanks to Lykos. Huv-zaan always think us Skritaar pirates, no matter what."

The alien kept itself turned around, possibly trying to be polite. Its quills ruffled before settling back down as it sighed deeply. "Human maybe right about witch. Etzic only see such Magic at hands of Lykos Khydir before though. Used often for war. Not trust Magic, Skritarii do, not at all. If Huv-Zaan don't kill captured refugee ship, Etzic might be able to rejoin them, Maybe. Injured by monster magic, Etzic was. better now, most Skritarii not so lucky, no."

It glanced towards the door and hissed though. "Going to Xo planet, yes? If Human promise to get Huv-Zaan to not kill rest of Skritaar ship, might agree with Truce. If Huv-Zaan let ship leave for Skritarii worlds other side of HZ space, especially. Risky going through Huv-Zaan space. Their auto-bases shoot non HZ ships on sight. Skritarii thought Xo base abandoned, maybe good rest stop to repair ship from the damage Skritarii got escaping Lykos. Human must know viciousness of Lykosians, yes? Rare any survivors of a species they despise."

[Torrocca]

Hectaros

---

Hectaros remained relatively quiet as the others spoke, lulling away into his own deep thoughts. Here, he was already being considered as much an equal as anyone else, yet he hadn't been with the group longer than a day. Although the sentiments and the camaraderie were a welcoming thing to the legionary, he still felt lost and alone; he felt he was betraying those he cared most about: his family, his friends, his countrymen. The varied, unique group - Demen's Chosen, as he now knew them as - didn't speak of the incredible, machine-like professionalism or the awe-inspiring grace and fortitude of the Eterridone legions he had embraced long ago; even those he'd now come to call friends didn't speak of the loving companionship of his brothers and sisters that he'd spent years training and fighting side by side with. It was tough for the warrior, existing in a world so alien and unique to him, but he hid his woes away; he kept a resolute, determined appearance to himself for the moment.

[Tiltjuice]

DINING ROOM

Part of what she did meant sizing up people quickly, to get to the heart of what exactly they wanted. Or, in some cases, needed. No one wanted to feel alone, but how they went about seeking company differed greatly. Flexibility mattered a great deal.

Calani let the smile linger on her face as she turned to Cecile. Double entendres also mattered a great deal...and so, for that matter, did clever tongues. Enough was enough, though, and she swallowed quietly to break her train of thought before she opened her mouth and scandalized anyone. Especially a new Resident, and someone who carried herself with a timid air not so different from Myra's, the teenager in the front.

Cecile Tucker

"Oh, uhh... Hey. Is this the meeting?"

"It is indeed. Hello, I'm Calani Marliten," the escort introduced herself. "Please don't mind them. They're all curious about newcomers, and as far as I know none of them bite. Well, actually - she might." An inclination of the red-haired woman's head indicated an equally red-haired woman who was, thankfully, taller than Calani herself. "That's Captain Blackwater. Confusing the two of us might provoke a stronger reaction. She's someone with military experience, and I - am not. Why don't you join me? I can introduce you to the others later, depending on who might be around."

[Truth Incarnate]

Cecile Tucker - Dining Room Meeting

Cecile smiled nervously, taking a quick look around the room, noticing a rather... Odd assortment of characters and figures. There were anthropomorphic creatures, humans from ancient times, and people who seemed to be from some sort of ridiculously rich or dystopian future. She found a seat at a nearby table, trying to avoid eye contact, and looking down at the polished wooden surface. Wow. Patterned oak with resin glazing. It was so interesting to look at, and definitely more interesting that fraternising or speaking in any manner whatsoever. The pressure to do something was overwhelming, as illogical as it was.

Cecile's mind raced with thoughts. Why was she here? It was hard to take the Administrator's word at face value, especially since as far as she knew, all of this was just some sort of hallucination, afterlife or dream. Supposedly she existed at the whim of some sort of deity, and had been employed from across space and time in order to work for them. That was a little bit ridiculous. Was it a dream? Was she just living inside a self-generated illusion, her mind trapped within her body? It was so confusing... And it was also probably a good idea to just wait and see what happened before saying something stupid.

[Northwest Slobovia]

RAIDERS of the LOST BOOK

OPERATION: BIBLIOPHILE
LOCATION: Sailing to Alexandria, Dimension 257P
RotLB
Having returned to the cabin, Sandy broke off a chunk of bread for himself, and set a bowl of cream of turkey soup on the window table. “I’m sorry the turkey is so finely shredded, but the spell conjures only things to drink. Getting it to produce something so… hearty took a lot of experimentation.”

He wedged himself in the corner where the bench met the ship’s hull so he could sit at the table while facing his companions, and popped the bread in his mouth. After a second’s chewing, he picked up. “Nick seems to have enough range now for, um, a number of interesting tricks. But we have some more pressing matters we should start with: who we are, why we’re together, and why we don’t have any slaves with us. We’ve got part of the first-- We have partial answers for the first question, but we’ll need to finish working it out, and we… really need answers... for the other…”

Sandy’s speech slowed as he trailed off, looking around the cabin with fresh eyes. It wasn’t a two thousand year old artifact he had the unusual fortune to touch, it was a state of the art vehicle. A smile slowly crept onto his face, as though he was a cat who was slowly recognizing that the brightly-colored fuzzball in front of his nose was an unsuspecting bird.

“Shipwreck”, he said softly. “That’s it! Shipwrecks are unfortunately common here and now; they’re a boon to archaeologists and historians -- um, will be, in the future -- but right now, anybody who has to go to sea lives in fear of them.” He nodded slowly to himself, recalling what he knew of them and thinking of what it meant. “Why don’t we have retinues? They drowned. Why do we have so little, and much of that obviously new? We’re lucky to be alive; that I held onto one box that, uh, remained afloat is just short of miraculous. Why do we know each other? We didn’t, but after helping each other make it to shore, and… oh… spending a week recuperating, we’re fast friends. “

“So long as our stories hold together -- and Nick will be a tremendous help for that -- nobody will question us, and many people will be sympathetic. So….” Sandy leaned back and gazed at the scene on the ceiling as he mused. “The Baron was on a ship… I’d gotten as far as Crete, and got aboard his ship, and… the captain got lost at night, and ran the ship into rocks off Ashkelon, and we had to swim for shore. That’s a start. What more should we add?”

“What we do perhaps?” the Baron suggested. “Our family histories as well. Our occupations might give credence to why we have books and an interest in the library. While family history is an important part of a person in this age so it would best to think of an answer beforehand. I will also probably need a better sounding name, and i’m guessing that ‘Sandy’ might not be the most commonplace name either.”

“Primus would be a simple variation, and I think that will pass for a Roman name. I could, um, go as Erythros, the ruddy one, because of my complexion, and nobody would think twice of it. As to occupations… I was thinking of saying that there is an… academy of magic in Edessa, a city or large town in Greece, on a Roman road. It’s, um, remote enough the Librarians are unlikely to have visited it, but large enough that they’d have heard of it. I’d say I’m a student of the academy, and we… have developed some new methods. I think I can talk my way in with that, since any of the Librarians with the Sight can See that my magic isn’t quite like theirs.”

“What about my magic?” Primordial asked. “I assume it will also come off as strange. Perhaps I should pass myself off as an astronomer or another kind of primitive scientist?”

“Oh yes! Oh yes indeed: say you’re an astronomer!” A smile blossomed on Sandy’s face: that was a brilliant suggestion. “The Library has some sort of observatory, and it probably has a large collection of astronomical records, since one of the things it’s known for is its collection of Egyptian texts. The Egyptians kept close track of the sky for religious and practical reasons. The Library may even have Babylonian astronomical records, which would be a real prize!”

He stopped to think about the previous point, face twisted as he did so. “There’s nothing like your magic known here, or if there was… no records have survived. I… I simply don’t know how spellcasters will react to it. I was hoping not to demonstrate it. Uh, formally demonstrate it; telekinesis will be a big help if we have to get the book out during the fire.”

[OOC: There is no plost, only collab or collab not!]

[Chedastan]

Paper Romy
Dining Room

The Paper General simply listened as it was explained to him and everyone else in the room that all the Residents will have to go through basic training again, which him himself didn't pay that much mind to, given that he understood what it was for and realized he could use a little review on his given skills that he had gotten from the actual General in the flesh. Though he began to wonder how the real Romulus probably would've responded, as he had an inkling that he might have been at the very least a little insulted, and maybe complained quietly and with mutters to himself that no one in staff gave him any kind of respect because he wasn't given any actual position with them. The Paper General snorted at the thought, but almost knew that the real Romulus would've likely felt belittled for sure, even if he didn't verbally make it clear that he was to everyone else, less he feared to make himself appear petty in their eyes.

Though maybe he was wrong about the man and just simply flanderizing how he would react. As the real man he was based on has already spent several months on Galli transitioning himself to one of Demens' Chosen, and he had furthermore changed a lot since coming to the Building after his last battle in his home dimension. And despite growing more humbled and having since learnt of his new purpose in life, he'll never let his former title of General of the Wilhelm Imperium fade into obscurity, as he's determined to carry that to his death, even if it had long since lost it's official meaning upon his arrival here. Paper Romulus wasn't sure if it was just for the pride his real self had for the Imperium, or if the principle behind the title alone impacted the man greatly. Given that even his paper self wasn't too sure as to why exactly, he could only figured his real self wasn't either. Which was amusing to the paper man to say the least.

He could tell already that were going to move on shortly to the segment, and he didn't have much else to say for now. So he simply just gave an understanding nod to both Neste and Klaus, and went back to his notepad to write down a few more notes to his real self.

---

Nivea

The Nevidian courier had merely listened quietly so far to the several exchanges and explanations that were being made in the meeting, having tried to process it all so that she at least understood what they were going to do directly after the meeting and beyond that, and she had very much like the idea of going into some well needed basic training soon, a little excited in fact. Nivea had always admired her grandfather's former service as a State Hoplite Militiaman, back before when the city's Inquisition had declared once and for all to have them disbanded when they had moved to almost completely remove most of the city's state government. Her grandfather was one of the last ones from their city, and while they never had a war underground, the State Hoplite Militiamen proven to be excellent city watch guards that usually made good to keep the peace a lot of the time for almost two millennia since they came underground.

At least that account was what her grandfather told her, but her grandma always said he exaggerated the so-called 'good times' of decades past when they were young like Nivea. Still though, she could easily imagined how much better those times must've been as she was waiting for her turn on the chopping block.

She didn't had much to say or ask about the Administrative Branch, as she herself wasn't exactly too sure of what to say about it, other than it sounded very organized already. And she was also a little distracted thinking about what Amanda said perviously to her right before the meeting started, as she wondered what exactly she had meant by her having 'flashbacks too.' She could only hope to find out more afterwards when she gets to the chance to talk to her again.

A thought then came to her when she remembered she was a courier who could technically have herself be involved in a lot of things that go on in the Building and outside it, given that couriers often need to go to several places, and stuff always needed to be delivered somewhere. She then stood up and began to speak too.

"Oh, um, I got a quick question before we move on. So I'm Nivea A'delvi, and I arrived here recently as a courier, and that's a job that involves going to places a lot, and also managing some logistics before it's sent out and delivered. I just wanted to ask if there's allowance of fluidity between people having roles in both the Administration and Operation branches, or if it's only one or the other you can be in?" She quickly asked to the staff people heading the answers to questions being asked.

[Northwest Slobovia]

Klaus' face pulled into a frown. "So why put them through basic? Why put anyone through its rigors? Our purpose, dear Residents, is to build esprit de corps - to instill a healthy camaraderie. Camaraderie.

Oh, wonderful: what we need is a little steel in our spines and then we can all get along. Typical soldier thinking. Amanda's eye-roll disappeared under her professional mask. She raised an extended index finger at the end of her lifted arm, trying to catch Klaus' eye. "'Basic training', General? What do you mean by that? Where I'm from, that has a specific meaning to military types, and pre-dawn slogs through the freezing mud are not my idea of anybody reaching their full potential."

She was, however, comforted remembering Sandy answering her hawkish relatives' boasts about how basic training made men of them with boisterous teasing about the good old days. In the good old days, Spartan men were real men, and they started training at six years old, shivering their way through the winters in tattered cloaks to toughen them up. And the more manly men who beat them? The Theban Sacred Band, male lovers all: they left her more traditional relatives aghast. Nor any of this cowardly killing at a distance with guns; real men ended up spattered with the blood of their enemies, having dispatched them properly with sword or spear, mano-a-mano. Modern basic was just the silly prancings of an effete culture that knew nothing of war. A faint smile peeked out from behind her mask before fading back into her neutral expression.