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3 yrs ago
Current Awake O Sleeper
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Back From The Ashes. Again.
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Don't sweat the small stuff, it's all in your head
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Back From The Ashes

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0400 Hours

Hyperion rises early. Whilst not the only one in this crew of mercenaries with a background in the rigors of military doctrine, Hyperion is orthodox in his application of these matters. Once he had the chance to synchronize to shiptime, his schedule was set. The day begins with PT. Hyperion begins with intense equipment-assisted weightlifting and cardiovascular activities, before transitioning from the high intensity portion of his exercising into the disciplinary portion; One hundred pushups, one hundred and fifty situps, and a five minute plank. Finally, approaching the end of the hour, he concludes the sweat-inducing work by entering the cafeteria in the midst of the third-shift dinner rotation and engaging in a stretch routine.

0500 Hours

Hyperion religiously fills a thermos of coffee at the end of his exercises. He takes his breakfast as the third rotation crew take their dinner, keeping himself abreast of the goings'-on of the ship. Whilst he is no skipper, a career of ship-life has made him keen on knowing what's ticking in the Engineering sections. His demeanor is standoffish, and the crew is merely polite with him rather than cordial. His eyes are dull and his engagement seems structured, perhaps rigid, rather than organic in this regard. However, the regularity and dutiful attention he gives these questions and their answers is not the empty pleasantry of idle chatter and he takes to it with the same vigour he does his exercise routine.

The only part of his days that seemed to bring any light to the dullness of his eyes was when Hyperion insisted upon cooking. Precisely halfway through his thermos of coffee, he rises from the table with and proceeds to commandeer the cookery. The cafeteria fills with the smells of breakfast even as the third-shift finishes dinner, and by the time Hyperion manages to sit down with his plate of eggs, bacon, sausage, and grease-skin-gravy, he has already served several plates to the vying crew members who hassle him for food.

His methodical approach to eating the meal always ends with cleaning his plate with a swab of the final length of bacon to acquire the remnants of the rest of the meal, as well as one final gulp of coffee. What little light filled his eyes while cooking has since faded and the aura of grim obligation has once again settled over him.

0630 Hours, Onwards

Shower and hygiene. Equipment maintenace. Crew dossier review. Target location review... Everything fit into his schedule. Except R&R.

It was on this day, after the umpteenth day of file and map data review, as the ship came into sight and shadow of Faringor, that the squad would find Hyperion at the ready in the Operations HQ.

You've done more with less, Severn. was the main thought that repeated itself in the man's mind. As he awaited the squad's arrival, he checked his Omni-Tool one last time. Five members; himself, two wild cards with penchants for the bombastic, an unknown reported to be a crack shot, and a woman who gave him the sensation of gazing into a mirror whenever he looked up into her Turian features. You've done more with much less. his mind repeated.

In preparation of the squad's arrival he prepped the central command screen to a map display of Faringor. Synching it to his Omni-Tool, he idly scrolled through the astronomical data points one last time. Satisfied that the information was complete, as limited as it was due to the nature of the job, he remained at parade-rest and set himself to awaiting the others as he stood at the head of the table.
These things do come up and can happen. I will be NPCing William as required for the duration of the Prologue.
I appreciate the updates, thank you :)
Howdy! Just checking in with folks, haven’t heard from anyone in a little bit :)
The Palace - Those who accompanied Eckehart, or otherwise decide to arrive thereafter.

And thus the group cross the great bridge, climb the tall stairs, and enter into the Palace. The interior of this grand building is splendorous, but not gaudy or decadent. It is of a simple stone, and filled with life and presence; great creepers and vines grow along pillars and form a canopy of thick leaves and bright flowers across the ceiling. The ground is of carven stone, with long lush carpets bridging the great hall they have just entered. Additional rooms branch from this place to the left and right, but Eckehart leads them straight on and towards the origin of The Song.

As they cross the room, there are two stone figures milling about this great hall. They are faceless, seamless, constructions that move in a dancing gait along a path of glowing runes outside the confines of the carpet. Their stone forms move in liquid mannerisms, as if alive and organic, their bipedal forms twirling and leaping. Outstretched hands produce flows of water which feed into the base of the pillars, where good earth lies revealed and produces the great growths of the creepers. Then, they dance away, leaping high and through openings far above the doors where they disappear to the sides and into different rooms.

"The attendants are wondrous." Eckehart chimes. "They've been with the palace longer than any can remember, and whilst they do not communicate they maintain the palace with much fervor."

They arrive at the great doors, which scarcely contain the thrumming singing of the voice of Rulania within. Now that they are just outside the doors, it is clear to them that it is a chorus of many voices- but that Rulania's rings true and louder than all others. Even those of you whom did not hear any voices with distinction at great distance can make out the voices in the presence of the door. Eckehart bows low, then with a gesture the doors open to the group.

He would stand outside the room for but a moment, ensuring that all were present-

Then frown subtly, noting Brown's initial absence He whistles low, some quality of his voice making this inaudible to those directly next to him, and a small fairy-like Bikura springs from the room and flies overhead and past the group towards the entrance, then back out into the city. Eckehart turns swiftly, no longer needing to herald the group, and with a gesture of quiet significance to Audrey he strides with increasing speed into a door directly to the side of the Great Doors he had just opened. A sound of ringing bells could be heard as he slipped into the old, dark, wooden door.


The chamber beyond is a wide one, with a domed ceiling that captured the singing voices and amplified them greatly. Rather than a grand throne, the room was that of an auditorium in the round. The doors the group were entering were but one of four sets of doors that entered this room from the cardinal directions; the auditorium center to the entirety of the palace. It was certain that the voices sung here carried through the building through the clever architecture of the ceiling. A dozen Bikura, all visibly elders of their species, sit low in the auditorium chambers, near to the central figures on the stage and sing.

A duo presided there, their kinship apparent in their appearance and affection. Hand in hand, they stood there swaying as they sang; their voices were the principle source of The Song, but the girl's outshone the boy's by a considerable margin. The boy also bore the mark of the Bikura, and he wore a simple crown upon his brow that appeared to be of wood that settled into his hair comfortably. His garb was simple, however, in the style of Eckehart; a spun tunic and well worn trousers, his arms bare and revealing calloused hands and muscled figure.

The girl wore no crown, but her dress was of fine make and regal demeanor- but was not the grand over-crafted period piece that the group would be familiar with from television or movies. Instead, her dress looked as if it emphasized function before form; the skirt was knee length rather than ankle, it lacked in frills or other distractions, but had fine patterning and lovely colors that flattered her. It was a dress for running and adventuring as much as it was for audiences and performances.

Their hair was similar, as were their eyes. The hair was of pastel colors, flowing from their heads in a gradient wave of colors; greens, blues, greys. Their eyes shone with a dazzling iridescence and reflected different colors depending upon the lighting and angle.

When you all enter the room, the girl gasps and stops singing. Something in The Song is lost- but the chorus of elders does not end, and the Song, while diminished, does not fade. Her eyes brighten. She visibly squeezes on the boy's hand, and points upwards at them.

"Tis them, o brother of mine blood, tis them!" She practically buzzes with the excitement. "Doth thy eyes affirm mine own?"

"Yeah." The boy releases her hand and gives her a playful push. "Go on, I'll let you have your moment Lania."

The girl launches forward as if shot from a bow, leaping from the stage and rushing upwards to meet you all.

"I-I am Rulania." She stammers out in her excitement. "Tis my highest esteem to maketh thy acquaintance! Oh, I know thee by thy eyes, I know thee by thy names, I hath dreampt of thee for so long!"

And like that, Rulania stands quivering before you all, eyes wide, sweeping like a spotlight to take you all in. And yet, despite her own significant weight and lack of forbearance on the subject, she is a total stranger to the lot of you. She lacks the symbol of the Bikura, and instead she wears a collar of silver about her neck, beset with a black gem that matches the iridescence of her eyes on occasion. Her voice feels familiar, as if you've all heard it before. The radio? A dream? Within the babbling of the Swallow? It is impossible to place, but it is a voice familiar and warm and so very excited to see you.

@PerfectThought if Brown wishes to arrive at the palace, the small fairy man will find him and lead him into the Auditorium with some speed. Feel free to do as you wish.

Next you’ll tell me the sunlight flows like molasses and that the river in Baldur’s Gate is more sludge than water and that the gangsters just leave the bodies sitting on top.
I’m out of context at the moment, but the idea of a party of adventurers trying to figure out what Widdershins means had me laughing very hard. Too much Terry Pratchett for me, I say, too much.
I got struck by the cleaning bug after the anniversary, so I’m a bit delayed but I honestly don’t need to make any sort of large post so I should be good for tomorrow no problems.
Alright, survived my anniversary. Going to work on my post for tomorrow.
Hey, I can alter history a bit either way. As long as folks are fine with my intended route of 'The Janissary Order has been destroyed and the Ottomans are a modernized empire' being a world thing, I don't mind a specific year analogue. The themes I'm focusing on are 'Old World New Problems' and 'The Rise of Technology Destroyed My People', so if I need to be a little wibbly-wobbly on the specific timeline that's easy.
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