( march intro log )

[hownkai]

Who: Everyone
When: March 1st and on
Where: The Moira + Ceta
What: The crew finds themselves on the planet of Ceta
Warnings: Potential sci-fi creature death. Please label your content!

I N T R O L O G

by the inquest "Arguments on their nature are refuted by those who return to shore, wide-eyed with tales of their savagery." All Moirans are woken to the sounds of the ship coming to a rather grating halt some time in the early morning cycle. It’s no faster or slower than any other stop, but it is unexpected as the captains didn’t mention an upcoming disembarkment. Shortly after, a message is sent to every MID: Navigation has informed us that we’re approaching bad traveling conditions: an overactive star. Instead of stopping on Liant El, we’ll be docking here on Ceta. Please exercise caution while gathering supplies and during excursions. Follow their safety guidelines. If the chance allows, we’ll also be signing new crew on the planet. Please greet them first and show them to the ship. Thank you. The Ingress has pulled you in. Your body experiences several sensations at once: being pushed forward as if a hand is resting on your back, momentary and startling blindness, a gentle ringing in your head. You have difficulty discerning whether it is hot or cold, but where you have been prodded is noticeably warmer than the rest of you. Some may suffer from dizziness while others are perfectly fine. Once equilibrium has been reestablished, you will notice you are standing on a long platform and that the room is filled with a soft cerulean light. It's slightly humid and dark despite the glow around you, and nothing is familiar. For those few who come through Ceta's Ingress, there will be crew of the Moira there to greet you. They tell you of the Ingress, how it is broken, even on this planet, and that the ship is headed back to the origin of this technology. This planet’s Ingress is set precariously atop a floating rock formation, the only way from one area to the next is on small air-propelled boats. Crew members will guide everyone back to the Moira and take them to the Medbay; contracts will be signed posthaste. WELCOME TO CETA At first glance, Ceta seems mostly inhabitable, and that's because it is. The atmosphere around the planet is surprisingly thick in most places, sometimes thin in others, and without some way to filter the air, it is mostly unbreathable; it's a giant gas planet, its core made of various molten metals and the atmosphere a mix of oxygen, hydrogen, and nitrous. Ceta's gravity is also uneven, meaning that some areas will have stronger focal points than others. The terrain, when it is visible, appears rather rocky—hardly the best conditions for life and stable living. What's more unusual, however, is that despite this fact, there is, indeed, a small populace "living" among the mist and clouds, but it's clear they do not live here year-round. It's hunting season, and they are there for the bounty. These visitors have built small platforms that are hooked together by ropes and swinging bridges, which they call "temporaries". Unstable buildings are rare, dangerous, and spread out over these temporaries to prevent damage or accidents. The temporaries float along, swaying and shifting with the planet’s atmosphere, and posted at every point of entry and all open surfaces are a particular set of rules that everyone must abide by. They are written in dark ink and large block letters so that all passing by will stop and read them: NO FIRE. Flammables, ignition sources, matches, lighters, and anything that creates a spark is prohibited. The atmosphere has higher levels of hydrogen, and the smallest spark will create a problem. AIR BREATHABILITY. Monitor your vitals. Wear masks or re-breathers if needed. WATCH THE EDGE. All walkways are the only thing from you and falling. Be cautious and watch your step. These signs should be given their due attention. The edge is just that: the end of where it is safe to walk. If a wooden plank gives way beneath your feet, you will plummet through hundred of miles of atmosphere before hitting the planet’s thin surface. The captains reiterate that crew should be careful and stick to the main temporaries, gather supplies, visit at their leisure, and then go back to the ship. ☄ IT'S A BIRD! IT'S A PLANE! The organisms that have evolved on this planet are unintelligent—a fact that is told to you by the other visitors. As there is no solid materials or ways for them to interact with their environments, these giants float along within the atmosphere, though it appears that they are flying when they are merely navigating through. They travel in groups of three or more and sometimes come close to the outskirts of the temporaries. Because there is an invisible filtration dome around the temporaries, this allows the creatures to pass through without harm and return again into the mist as they please. They are difficult to see at night and are rather skittish in the presence of sudden light. ☄ @ THE MUSEUM Every evening when work is done, artificial light sources illuminate the streets of the temporaries. There is one bar, if you can actually call it that, but the main attraction is a museum. The support structure appears to be made out of the skeletal system of the giants that "swim" and live on Ceta, and though the outside seems rather unassuming, the inside is not for the faint of heart. As it's considered informative, there are displays of the internal structures and functions of the very creatures that seem harmless and as unintelligent as the visitors claim. There are sections of the museum dedicated to their anatomy and what makes them so valuable: inside their air sacs, which is what gives the illusion to flying through the atmosphere, is a mineral that, when harvested, attunes and sharpens the senses so that brain capacity and function excel over one-hundred percent efficiency. Likewise, aside from these informative areas, there is also a history of how and when the visitors began to hunt them for this valuable, unnamed resource. ☄ HARVEST SEASON Are you looking for work? Or perhaps you're bored with your duties aboard the Moira and prefer to see just what it is these visitors do during the day? Hunters will often pay for menial labor to help with the killing and retrieval of the giants of Ceta. It is by day, not by hour, and once aboard one of the many ships, you will be put to work handling equipment or being on the lookout for "signs" of the creatures. Once they've been spotted, the real work isn't in capturing them or even trying to subdue them—though they give a good fight. It's in the harvest, done below deck once they have been safely brought into the ship's cargo areas by the tethers, that can get quite gruesome. As a defense mechanism, cutting into the skin creates a rather noxious emission that can cause disorientation, hallucinations, or unconsciousness. Worst case scenarios can often result in death. ☄ WORD LIMITS As things are beginning to wind up (or down), something seems to have gotten into the MID systems and caused a malfunction. On the morning of 03.13, it suddenly becomes clear that communicating with others who are not from the same universe or similar timelines seems very difficult. Understanding each other becomes rather hopeless as the day continues, and these repercussions can be felt across the entire ship. The Captains send out another MID message that appears as a jumble of unusual letters and symbols. However, there is one word that can be read by everyone and (hopefully) understood: RATCHET. Figuring out this problem shouldn't take long if everyone can leap the language barriers and work together. ( ooc; All New Arrivals: you have the choice of coming through the Moira's Ingress OR Ceta's Ingress. For questions, go here. Please comment to activity check to receive new ranks (if applicable)! )

Comments

[fiercestwarrior]

1. Planet surface (Mostly for Clark but if you want to, go for it)

Sif, generally speaking, tends to play by the rules. She has been a warrior in Odin's service for centuries at this point, she has gotten pretty good at following orders most of the time.

Most of the time.

There is also that bit where she has actually committed high treason multiple times. A better way of putting things might be to say that Sif plays by the rules for as long as they make sense to her, or when orders are given by someone she respects.

She has very little respect for anyone on this planet, and she certainly isn't going to pay attention to anyone telling her where she can and cannot go. As if she has not traversed realms far more dangerous than this one.

So, once she has her breathing mask on she gets one of the local hunters to take her down to the surface (read: she scared the crap out of him)and decides to go exploring.

She did for a brief while consider joining the hunt for the giants swimming in the sky, but she finds that she actually likes much better to just watch them overhead whenever they happen to glide into view.

The uneven gravity is challenging, but she soon finds ways to navigate, and finds herself rather enjoying the challenge. It is superior by far to being cooped up in the Moira, a ship she is already committed to loathing, and certainly more entertaining than anything on offer in the Temporary she just came from.

Considering the general lay of the land, that really tells you a lot about how entertaining she found the place.

2. On board the Moira

Sif stalks around the ship like a menacing spirit, trying to get to know every corner of it that she can.

They took her shield.

Part of her scoffs at being so attached to an object, but in some ways it is a vital symbol of what she is. A Shieldmaiden. The sting of its loss is unexpected and vexing.

At least she still has her sword.

If one ventures to the observation deck one might find her there, sitting with her legs crossed and sharpening it, the monotonous sound of stone against metal echoing in the large, open space.

Most of the time she will be wearing her Asgardian armour rather than the crew uniform, except for when performing menial tasks such as ship cleaning which cannot reasonably be performed with any degree of comfort in full armour.

More often than not she can be found beating the snot out of various things in the training simulation room, if she doesn't have anything else to do. She is an angry, angry woman at the moment. As false as the combat is, it does give her some small amount of relief.

She also methodically works through the beverages on hand in the mess hall, sullenly trying to find something that might get her decently drunk. Not that it would actually improve anything, but she might have a bit of fun at least.

No sane person would want to help her with this quest, Sif is volatile when inebriated.

mess hall

[hyperkinesia]

Bruce's fulfilling his mess hall duties that afternoon when Sif comes in, making more or less of a beeline towards the bar. He lifts his eyes up, ready to greet her, finding it weird that she doesn't so much as glance at him.

Sure, they're not exactly friends or anything, but she seemed nice enough when they met last month, and he doubts she'd have forgotten him by now.

Still, he says nothing to it. Eyebrows knit slightly but he goes back to cleaning the tables as he was doing before, making sure there's plenty of food served before he takes a break and makes his way over to the bar counter. She's downing drink after drink but that doesn't bother him so much when he has a notion of how Asgardian metabolisms work, and instead he settles against the counter next to her, greeting her with a smile as he gestures vaguely at her right shoulder.

"Did it heal up nicely?"

He's talking about the very injury he'd stitched up just two weeks ago, though he figures it must be all closed up by now, no trace on her skin to tell the tale.

[fiercestwarrior]

Sif turns to the stranger with a confused frown on her face. Why does this man speak to her as if they have met before?

"Did what heal up nicely?"

Had she sustained said injury two weeks before it would indeed have been all healed by now, but that is of little importance at the moment since she is not in fact the woman he treated back then, something he will undoubtedly figure out soon enough.

[hyperkinesia]

"Your... shoulder."

Bruce's words trail off a little as he watches her, notices how there's no recognition in her expression, only confusion. He sighs quietly, smile tensing, his head dropping a little.

"You don't remember."

Which isn't impossible, he knows that all too well. Still, it's always an awkward situation, though hopefully Asgardians understand parallel universes well enough for what he's about to say to make sense to her.

"There was a Sif on board, last month. Possibly another Sif. She got injured on her shoulder, and I stitched her up. You look exactly like her, so I thought you were the same person. Sorry."

[fiercestwarrior]

"Ah. Parallel universes."

Said as if that explains everything, which in fact it does, and what more needs to be said on the subject?

"I will admit to hoping that this other Sif is no longer on board."

It's just a headache that she doesn't feel like dealing with.

"My apologies if she is a friend."

[warandpeace]

Despite distractions, Kazuhira was making efforts to visit the training room fairly regularly. Didn't want it to fall to the wayside- he took his role very seriously.

The doors slid open in the middle of a simulation, and Miller came in pretty quickly. Didn't want to interrupt what was going on. Needed to watch.

Whatever program was running kept going in ignorance of him as he leaned on his crutch and watched. Somewhere along the line this soldier had managed to lose an arm and a leg. An expense he never wanted to pay. On the plus side, it made him twice as determined in making sure this program did some good. Not that he could stop people from getting hurt. No. No amount of training could do that when someone committed themselves to war. But rather when the inevitable happened, when they were compromised, he could make sure they had more weapons at their disposal.

"How is it working out for you."

[fiercestwarrior]

Sif was certainly committed to war. She was practically its bride, some would say, and she would not argue the point. She was a warrior through and through, and she had paid the price for it often enough.

She was not unaware that she had gotten a bit of an audience, and so when she finishes off her final enemy she turns toward Kazuhira to answer his question without surprise.

"It is good to train without having to hold anything back."

As a means to work out aggression it has many benefits, since the full force and fury of an Asgardian warrior is something one has to be quite sturdy to be able to withstand.

[warandpeace]

"I was hoping it could stand up to punishment."

He gave her an appraising look as he walked around her. She was built like a soldier. Had the body of someone very good at close combat. Attractive features, good to work with. It was always good to run into people that knew what they were doing.

"Anything you want to build on? New weapons? Scenarios you need practice on?"

[fiercestwarrior]

"Not at the moment."

She was merely blowing off some steam, there was no sincere study of her craft going on there. She is angry, and sad, and dealing with it in the way that has become so second nature to her at this point that it is quite possible that she does not even realise that it's a coping mechanism.

"The program is good, though naturally not as satisfying as true combat."

But that would be an unrealistic expectation to have of a training simulation.

it's raining men

[heliakal]

Clark had thought he was pretty well adjusted to the odd variations in gravity. He's been flying Bruce's equipment around, after all, so he had a little practice. The problem is, caution isn't exactly second nature to him - it's too easy to relax while he's flying. Most of his attention is on the pod of creatures he's gliding along beside. When a particularly strong gravity well catches him, he's yanked ungracefully out of the sky, cape-first.

The path below isn't empty, either. Clark tries to pull up, but he mostly just manages to slow his descent so that he ends up more or less dropping gently into the arms of a stranger. She seems bothered by neither the gravity nor the fact that she just ended up bridal carrying someone easily twice her size.

Well this is -- impressive, honestly. But also? Incredibly embarrassing.

"Sorry," Clark says. He smiles a little, mostly because the situation is utterly ridiculous, but he can feel the tips of his ears warming - he's probably blushing. He's not above laughing at himself; it's just not the kind of situation he usually ends up in.

The gravity is less of a problem when he's expecting it, at least. He manages to extricate himself from her arms and get his feet on solid ground again without incident. He folds his arms across his chest, but his eyes are bright, full of warm, slightly self-deprecating amusement. "Thanks for the save. I didn't mean to just... drop in on you like that."

[fiercestwarrior]

Sif's original plan was to dive out of the way, since Clark really was coming her way hard and fast, but when she noticed that he appeared to be slowing down it seemed like the better course of action to give him a softer landing than simply crashing into the dirt.

And there she is, holding a fairly large, blushing man in her arms.

It is very, very hard not to laugh.

The corners of her lips are twitching a little as she lets go of him and he finds his footing, her eyes full of the same warm glow of amusement as his.

"No apology is necessary. You handled yourself quite... gracefully."

Unable to keep it together any longer, she allows a wide grin to spread across her lips.

[heliakal]

"Oh, is that why you're smiling? You're impressed by my grace?" Clark is grinning too, barely keeping himself from laughing. There's just something about her attitude that's infectious. Considering that nothing about what just happened could be called normal, it's sort of funny how normal this all feels anyway, like two strangers bumping into each other on a busy street.

"I think I owe you one for not letting me eat dirt - gracefully." He holds out a hand.

"I'm..." He hesitates there. Is he really supposed to call himself 'Superman'? He knows he should, it's what people call him. Clark drops his gaze, then looks up at her again. Instead, he says: "I'm Kal-El. It's good to meet you, miss..?"

[fiercestwarrior]

It is not usually quite so easy to make her smile, but this particular situation is extraordinary to say the least, and though there a certainly some who would claim that Lady Sif has no sense of humour, they would be wrong. She has a funny bone, and it has been thoroughly tickled by this ridiculousness.

Besides, Clark has the sort of presence that she has come to associate with Thor, radiating strength and kindness. She has always found it easier to relax around such people. Not that she actually knows this stranger, but for the moment that is her perception of him.

"Certainly, what other reason could I have to smile? And you owe me nothing."

She reaches out to take his offered hand, but she takes hold of his wrist rather than the hand itself.

"Greetings, Kal-El. I am Lady Sif of Asgard."

mess hall

[incantamentum]

[The moment Eric had found out he'd been paired up with someone called Sif he'd been a mixture of confused, disappointed and the faintest hint of outrage. As far as he was concerned Sif was one of the many Goddesses who take care of the earth, in Norse mythology at least... which wasn't the end of the world considering he wasn't a huge subscriber to the Norse pantheon.

Insulted, until he found a woman clad entirely in armor that looked decidedly ancient and apart of their world. In fact... she looked faintly Norse, if one could say someone looked that way. The armor seemed to fit in that regard, looking of the era. He'd witnessed enough memories of those times to know what would've been the fashion at the time and well, he was tired of searching and this was as safe a bet as any.

He walks over towards the bar, settles himself on a stool and turns to her.] Now I hate to pry but I absolutely must ask... your name wouldn't happen to be Sif would it? [His head hurt thinking about it.]

[fiercestwarrior]

[ His question is met with a confused frown. She is of course aware that she is a warrior of some renown, so it is not so strange to have a man she does not know approach her and be aware of who she might be. What makes her feel a little on edge about it all is that she was just kidnapped to another dimension. It makes people knowing her name a bit more suspicious in her eyes. ]

It is.

[incantamentum]

[Eric nods then after she confirms it, feeling suddenly less anxious. It meant that he wasn't leaving some poor soul in the lurch waiting for a buddy to arrive.] A pleasure. I'm Dr. Eric Dufosset and I've been assigned to be your buddy for your arrival here aboard the Moira. Think of it as an emissary of sorts.

[fiercestwarrior]

[ She frowns a little in confusion at the unfamiliar word buddy, but her features smooth into a more neutral expression when he explains. ]

I see. And what is the purpose of this arrangement?

training simulation room

[pickingup]

The training simulation room had definitely piqued Natasha's curiosity. She wants to stay sharp and knowing that others are using it makes her worry less about her training attracting too much attention. Quietly, she slips into the room while Sif is still fighting, staying by the door and watching with keen interest.

She might not have given Sif a second look in her crew uniform, but the armor is hard to miss when Natasha's made a habit of wearing her own uniform as much as possible. She thinks back to the reports she's seen and she has at least an idea of who the woman might be. Natasha's own face has been all over the news, but she very much doubts that an Asguardian woman would have noticed that. She can't be sure, though.

She waits until Sif looks like she's finished to approach, leaning against the wall next to the room's exit.

[fiercestwarrior]

Training can be something of a spectator sport sometimes in Asgard, so it is hardly a new experience for Sif to have someone drop in on a training session to observe. It can be a good way to learn, one she often took advantage of herself when she was younger.

She doesn't let the presence of another rush her either, winding down when she is good and ready to do so and only then turning to acknowledge her audience of one.

"Greetings."

[pickingup]

Natasha enjoys the show. She's trained enough that she can respect the skill of another and Sif certainly has skill. Fighting for Natasha is a means to an end, but it's one she's put a lot of work into perfecting and she knows what it takes to get to this level, Asgardian or not.

"Hi." With a smile, Natasha pushes off of the wall and takes a step closer. "I hope you don't mind an audience. My name's Natalie. I'm new."

[fiercestwarrior]

To Sif it is an art, it is what she has dedicated her entire life to. But then again she comes from a culture that holds combat in the highest regard, and being a warrior was a dream she relentlessly pursued.

"If I could not fight with eyes upon me, I would be a poor warrior."

She offers Natasha a small smile in return for the one she is given.

"What of you? Have you any fighting skill?"

She suspects it to be the case, considering the fact that she has sought out the simulation room.

observation deck!

[ex_forcechoke292]

[From afar, the sound of Sif's blade sharpening sounds far more reminiscent of the ambient sounds of droids he's been trained to notice, seek out, and usually put a stop to. It's there in the scrape against metal, a harsh, tinny sort of sound that immediately sets him on edge.

Upon approach, however, it's clear that this immediate reflexive association couldn't be farther from the truth. She's human--or humanoid, at least--he can feel as much without seeing it. And what he does see only solidifies how wrong said assumption has been: she looks perfectly formidable, something a battle droid could never manage, even on a good day.

He's careful not to get too close, curious as he might be, he knows the value of space when it comes to weaponry. That, and as much as he doesn't feel anything particularly aggressive--and when has that mattered?--he'd rather not be skewered by an antique.]

Been a long time since I've seen someone wield something like that.

[I.E.: never. Knives? Sure, he grew up around rogues. But full-blown swords that don't have any kind of energy attached? It's something that not even many backwater colonies on the Outer Rim manage.]

[fiercestwarrior]

[ Formidable. Yes, Sif would more like than not look favorably on that descriptive when applied to herself. She certainly aims to be just that a lot of the time.

She does not rise when Anakin enters the observation deck, but a trained eye would catch the subtle shifts in her posture betraying that she is on her guard, ready to spring into action in the blink of an eye should she be given any reson.

The wetstone stills, relative silence filling the deck around them as she gives Anakin an impassive look. ]

An Asgardian blade?

[ Just checking if he actually knows what he's looking at here. ]

[ex_forcechoke292]

[No, he certainly doesn't. He stops short for a moment, looking partially chastised at least, and he gives a little shrug by way of apology.]

Metal, period, actually.

[It's all he can really offer by way of explanation. Traditional blades...wherever they come from...haven't held up in a proper fight in years. Unless he's missing something?]

How is an Asgardian blade different? [The word is strange on his tongue, certainly foreign, but not difficult.]

[fiercestwarrior]

What do you use to make weapons in your realm, then?

[ She doesn't sound like she finds it particularly odd that he might be used to weaponry fashioned out of other materials, it's not as if Asgardians themselves don't step away from their preference for the archaic from time to time. ]

An Asgardian blade is different in that it is fashioned out of a metal that is harder than many others, making them less likely to break.

[ Which is a requirement for any weapons handled by people who can casually lift cars. ]