hexarchate_rpg | Chapter 3.1: The party begins

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moves: chapter 3

Chapter 3.1: The party begins

EDIT: The base is sited in the year 951, in a very odd timeline that has NO h*archate. Supplies have to be brought in via rift from other timelines. Thread here.

Ashari's new base features variable layout, which has been put to use in creating an extravagant ballroom. Tables to one side boast a variety of foods, drinks both alcoholic and non-alcoholic, and the occasional euphoric drugs. Candlevines glow blue and violet, and flower arrangements interspersed with fantastic sculptures of lace-woven wire adorn the tables. The arrangements mean various sarcastic things, if you're familiar with the Andan petal language.

Music plays softly enough not to overwhelm conversation, loudly enough to set a mood complementing the low-key lighting.

Remi is one of the first arrivals from the Cantata, shepherding the mothlings. Because he's a Nirai, he has a slate and is taking notes, although he is happy enough to talk to anyone who approaches him.

The kitchen is currently adjacent to the ballroom. Ashari's voice can be heard, raised in some kind of argument with...a caterer?

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[When is Ashari's base? Did the Hellspin massacre happen in this timeline?

How much of a chance has Sasha gotten to debrief with Ashari? What is her assessment of their reaction to the team's acquisition of Jedao?]

[The base is in the year 951--seven years after the Liozh revolt in the main timeline. Timeline for reference.

The Hellspin Massacre did happen.]

When Sasha reports in after the Cantata lands at the base, Ashari is extremely distracted, and quite possibly borderline inebriated as well. "You captured the target?" they demand. "Well, I suppose it's the least of our problems." They spritz themself with a mild intoxicant, which smells faintly of plum blossoms. "Did you know that in this base's timeline, there's no heptarchate or hexarchate at all? We've had to bring in all our supplies from other timelines."

"What is our greatest immediate problem, in your estimation?" Sasha asks, too sweetly.

[I don't think we should draw this out--more fun to postpone any confrontation--but now that you've raised the question I am curious!

Also, how much time will Sasha have between arrival & party?]

From a closer distance, Ashari's eyes are...more than a little bloodshot. And that might not be the drugs. "We have been listening for any communications from anyone in the galaxy," Ashari says. "Nothing. Absolutely zero. Not even old radio communications from the pre-ansible days. Something I could use your help in figuring out, you're technical." Their expression suggests they don't like admitting this. "If something ate the hexarchate, I want to know what. But never mind that--I have to make some last preparations. You can tell me all about your adventures later." And they swan off before Sasha can say another word.

[Sasha should have, say, four hours to prepare. Ashari is going to be scarce between this encounter and the party.]

[Sasha's going to have a quick meeting with Alaric, Remi, and Ankat to relay this news, and then spend the intervening time getting familiar with the base's grid and locking down outgoing signals as much as she can.]

[Is this state of no communications being ‘heard’ in this timeline known to the newer team members on the base?]

[Ashari has attempted to keep it from newer team members until everyone can be briefed BUT their ability to keep rumors from circulating is not perfect. :) It's up to you whether your character has heard or not.]

[Oh! Oh! Is Dar cooking for the party, maybe? ]

[I was hoping she'd volunteer! Tell us about her party foodings! She could even enlist some other people to help in the kitchen, if anyone's interested, or I can scare up an NPC or two.]

[One that was never clear to me: any cultural food prohibitions in the Hexarchate?]

[Assume there are occasional local food customs/taboos but otherwise the hexarchate is really, really tolerant of all sorts of foodings. I mean, other than things like cannibalism probably being out because I just don't wanna.]

[Deyna would be happy to help in the kitchen! She would much rather be helping out than awkwardly socializing.]

[Cripes, looks like everyone is ready to play and Im about to head to bed. Sorry, Yoon, the Mr. gets up for work at o'dark-thirty.]

[No worries--we'll be here in the morning. :p I do most of my game posts in the evening, but not everyone does, and we have people in different time zones anyway IIRC.]

[ o_O Well this is certainly a disturbing revelation.]

[Shess would also probably find cooking to be a better balance of comfortable and engaging than hanging around in a ballroom, but they might go out and spend a few minutes there sometimes, out of curiosity, with the pretext of bringing out food]

[A food idea, perhaps a reflection of something encountered in Shess' past (and not something I know to exist, but definitely baklava-inspired): mochi tarts with a filling of chopped nuts/seeds sweetened with honey and flavored with one of various floral flavorings like rosewater (for the Andan.), violet, honeysuckle, elderflower...]

[YOU ARE MAKING ME SO HUNGRY ^_^ ]

Dar has a black apron over the dark, shimmering tunic and brilliant turquoise trousers she'd managed to get the matter printer to extrude. She had it make a scarf as well, but it's been abandoned. Her sleeves are rolled up and she folds her arms in exasperation as she looks at the new employer. Her tawny forearms are corded with wiry muscles.

"Look, if you insist I have to do it, boss," she says. "But if we put that dish of nnongzhing pickle out right now, most of 'em won't be able to smell or taste the rest of the food. The Kel can wait, it'll do 'em good."

The two platters of folded buns, one set filled with sliced duck, the other with slices of marinated and roasted giant mushrooms, are ready to go, garnished with scallion shreds and arranged around bowls of sweet plum sauce, each with a long-handled dipping spoon. Dar sees Deyna hovering there, with the air of someone looking for something to do, and nods at the stuffed buns. "Wow, just when I need another set of hands, great timing. Put those out on the big table, please."

Also essentially ready are a set of roasted vegetable skewers, stuck upright in a block of plastic foam hidden by a riot of fresh green and purplish leaves, and accompanying sauces: refreshing sour-milk with herbs (think somewhere in the tzatziki - ranch dressing continuum), and a thicker savory bean puree. A timer pings: Dar grabs a metal skimmer and starts fishing miniature shredded potato pancakes out of the hot oil, dropping them onto a tray lined with absorbent paper.

She notices Shess' handwork. "So that's what you were up to. Good. That huge platter is going to be the sweets, but we don't need them out for a while yet."

It will be interesting to see who eats what. The boss hadn't mentioned any food allergies or whatever.

[Oh. Waaaaaant.]

Sasha is just walking into the ballroom when the obvious inference hits her. Hell has eight spheres, but we are at the center. She unfolds her tablet from her jacket pocket and messages the Cantata, "This location may have predators. Please stay alert and plan multiple escape routes to the rift."

She pockets her tablet again and heads toward the tables, scanning the bowls of drugs and candies for anything approximating a stim.

[Hi, everyone! Sasha is very short and of a wiry build; her motions are rapid. She's currently dressed severely in black and charcoal gray. A shining black pin shaped like a feather, formed like one of the fanning clock-hands of the rebellion logo, is pinned to the side of her low-brimmed cap. Close observers will notice that she's wearing a tiny earpiece in her left ear, which she's using to monitor voice messages from the grid and other team members.

I tend to write Sasha's comments in rather tight third person, and hers is not always a reliable point of view. If she is blazingly wrong about something in particular, especially something involving human interaction, you can tell me, but you don't have to tell me!]

[Yes hi it's me the morning person! I exist.]

The flower arrangements have attracted Ione at first; she is learning the petal language, as it's similar to the Calescotian flower-messages but not enough to be easy or boring. She's come dressed for partying, though with a nod to her own home's traditions in an audience that will not be thrown by them entirely, and the number of skirts slows her down a little bit from her usual walking pace.

Hopefully no one needs resuscitation.

She's still wearing elbow-length gloves, though these are in a deep navy blue to match her gown as opposed to her usual off-white. Her copper hair is up in a somewhat elaborate braided updo, and the caduceus earrings still dangle. She cringes a little when she hears raised voices, but tries to distract herself promptly, choosing to watch Remi and the mothlings take in the space.

[Cool, thanks! Heh, while OOC I’m sure it’s unrelated, the clues thus far tie so well to something in her backstory that this makes a great cause for IC high alert >:)]

Seyli isn't giving up on their hair. They have a vision and are going to go through with the whole look. Even if it means enlisting help from a fox to finish it. So they send a message through to Reshad. do you know how to french* braid hair? and if so will you...come do mine, please?. It would either be her or Ione, but Seyli doesn't want Ione touching them at all, in the slightest, knowing what they know of her abilities.

*[Whatever the Hexarchate equivalent would be]

Sulen approaches Sasha by one of the tables. They have a drink in one hand but it seems untouched. "Have you seen, or spoken to, Ashari?" they say, trying to sound casual and failing.

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Page 1 of 12

Chapter 3.1: The party begins

background questions

Re: background questions

Re: background questions

Re: background questions

welcome to the dead galaxy - paging Alaric

Re: welcome to the dead galaxy - paging Alaric

Re: welcome to the dead galaxy - paging Alaric

Oh ho ...

Re: Oh ho ...

Re: Oh ho ...

Re: Oh ho ...

Re: Oh ho ...

Re: Oh ho ...

calendrical problems ;)

Re: welcome to the dead galaxy - paging Alaric

Re: Oh ho ...

Re: Oh ho ...

no subject

no subject

this is a working party - literally paging Cantata

Re: calendrical problems ;)

and here's Ione

Re: welcome to the dead galaxy - paging Alaric

hair and make up - paging Reshad

The return of interpersonal drama