sanctuaryrpg | Recent Entries

Prison you could escape from and she had. But no amount of tinkering in the panel she’d pried open with part of the bed frame she'd liberated had resulted in the doors opening, and nothing they’d left her would allow any other sort of escape.

“Years in the most secure prison in the universe, escaping on a regular basis and here I am, stymied by a quarantine chamber.” She would have kicked something except the slippers she’d been provided with wouldn’t protect her toes if she did. She hated being locked up.

She paced for a while, and tinkered again – this time managing to turn off the repeating message but not open the doors. Frustrated with herself she collapsed onto the mattress (the bed having been partially dismantled) and resigned herself to waiting.

She wasn't any better at waiting than she was at being locked in.

When the doors finally opened she was wearing, well – certainly not the scrubs that had been provided - shapeless and whatever they called that fabric there was no way she was wearing it. The plain underclothes were boring but at least decent quality, so when she exited the cell she was wearing nothing but a plain white bra and panty set, and carrying the tablet as she navigated her way to her new quarters.

sanctuaryrpgmods

It’s the Summer Solstice here on Sanctuary and, according to the ancient tradition of the host planet's natives, there will be a two week festival!

If you spend time on the open air areas of the station you'll have noticed the days getting longer and longer. The festival itself culminates in a full day where the sun does not set at all.

The station becomes incredibly busy at this time, and far more aliens and natives will be seen walking the halls. Ships, both aquatic and space faring, will be coming and going, offering up trade opportunities for business inclined individuals. Of course, with the increase in traffic, the criminal element will take advantage, pickpockets working crowds and shady dealers offering wares and services for sale. In response more security and station staff will be visible, available for anyone with an issue.

The main area for congregating is the giant central area on the very top level that’s open to the sky. During the daylight hours all the public space will be festooned with decorations, and entertainment like concerts, dancing, circuses, and plays will be located around the massive space. In the centre, around the central tower, food sellers who've arrived from all over the sector will be participating in the competitions the station controllers have begun organising, with flamboyant demonstrations becoming shows in and of themselves. Traders will set up stalls and station staff will be mingling with residents, as well as the multitude of visitors.

During the evenings when the sun does set, there will be a party atmosphere with everyone enjoying the warm nights. Bars will set up and start selling drinks, and dancers from the clubs inside the station come to perform and promote their businesses.

And there you have it! Sanctuary Station invites one and all to come out and visit the Summer Solstice Festival! There's sure to be something for everyone to enjoy!

OOC: Bring all your pups out for some fun! Feel free to use this as the main gathering, but by all means post adventures in and around the festival either here, in the main comm, or in your own pups' journals. Enjoy!

tw3_ianto_jones

Some ghosts, the less picky ones probably, might be content to attempt the possession of the first sentient being to cross their path, but he isn't one of them. Outside the ship, released from his prison, the possibilities are endless, creatures of all shapes and sizes, scales and fur, more configurations of limbs than any one disembodied spirit can fathom. So he waits, floating quietly, invisibly, until he finds one that has a look he really likes. He's patient; the dead, after all, don't have much need to rush.

It's the suit, he thinks, that catches his eye. No one else he's seen is dressed this way, so clean, perfectly put together. He's never possessed anyone before, and he doesn't know if he'll have to share space in someone else's brain, so he thinks finding one that looks organized, one that seems unflappable, will make that easier.

The possession itself isn't as difficult as he imagined it might be; the man approaches and he simply moves into the space his corporeal body occupies. It's almost like slipping into a bath: everything's suddenly warm and alive. He's intensely aware of his breath, the way it feels to inhale, cool in his throat, the expansion of his ribs, the shifting of his diaphragm. He feels his pulse in different points all over his body, his wrists, his temples, his throat, the center of his chest, can taste the inside of his mouth (coffee, and something like a buttery pastry, sour fruit of some kind).

And then there's an echo, like a thought in the back of his head, in an accent he's never heard before. Who are you?

"I'm you," he says aloud, the same voice ringing into the air. "I'm you now."

[ooc: Ianto has been possessed by one of the spirits from the ghost ship. This particular spirit has pushed Ianto's consciousness into the back of his mind and is essentially driving Ianto's body around. People who know Ianto will likely notice he's acting unusually, and he won't remember them (unless he can get Ianto to give him information). This post is open to anyone and is open indefinitely. Backdated to July 11.]

rememory

No sooner had Hawk escorted Sabine and Scott off QXJldGh1c2E=, formerly the Arethusa, than the spirits of her dead swarmed from the ship en masse. More than 150 angry, confused, and frightened spirits unleashed upon Sanctuary with no way to return to their homes, no way to find their rest, unless they could communicate with the living.

A small group, persuaded by Sabine's familiars, huddled close to her and jostled for her attention. The remainder, goaded by one particularly malicious spirit called Mara, "ran" amok on the station. Most of them could muster little more force than a cold spot, a rustle of fabric, a flicker at the corner of the eye. Some managed greater feats like telekinesis, moving small objects from one place to another, in an effort to gain attention, or if they were mean-spirited they might pull a chair out from under someone going to sit, or stretch a rope in front of someone not watching where they were walking. A small number who retained more of their intellectual faculties or had a particularly pressing bit of business wrote REDRUM or their own equivalents in steam or sand or spilled sugar. A very few, including Mara, took possession of unlucky human hosts and bent them to their will.

In all, the effect was not so very grand that it was inescapable. Certainly there were those on the station who remained unaware, and were left blissfully alone. Alas, those who talked to Sabine in the days following QXJldGh1c2E='s arrival were rarely so lucky. And Sabine herself spent seven-eighths of every day tracking down spirits, talking them down, laying them where possible even if it meant finding a way to finish their business, and chasing spirits out of their hosts. All except Mara stayed disembodied once they'd been rooted out. But Mara, who personified evil in Hindu and whose name meant bitterness in Hebrew, simply fled one host for the next, resisting Sabine on every level and when she came too close, bidding other ghosts to distract her.

So it was that on any given afternoon or evening (as morning tended to banish them), wherever a group of people gathered, so too might a group of spirits.

[ooc: Feel free to post your possessed characters here, or in individual EPs as you like. Also, if you're not being possessed but you want to have some kind of a ghost encounter, here's a place. You can play the ghosts if you want, or if you want someone else to, just "tag Ghost" and I'll write them for you. BACKDATED: takes place from July 9 thru today. All tags welcome; open indefinitely.]

rememory

It was 0317 when the cargo ship formerly called the Arethusa but now designated QXJldGh1c2E= hailed Sanctuary station. Sanctuary's docking AI transmitted a request for information a fraction of a second later. QXJldGh1c2E= replied with its specs and clamp strength almost instantaneously, but it dithered a full second, an eternity in AI time, on how to number its crew complement. At the end of that interminable second it sent:

Crew in distress. Status uncertain.

Sanctuary's docking AI's response was also delayed almost a half a second as it transmitted the information to the higher-level AIs. At the end of several exchanges it was determined that the docking AI should send:

Hold for confirmation.

QXJldGh1c2E= paced its decks--or at least did the AI equivalent, flitting from one terminal to the next, into first one crew com badge and then another, and back. If it were an emotional being, which it primarily was not, it would call itself worried. In its non-emotional state, it simply expended every fraction of a second seeking data from its chassis and its crew.

After a discussion between the on-duty station personnel, it was decided that QXJldGh1c2E= should dock in one of the older sections of the station, where it would be greeted by the station police in Hazmat gear in case "uncertain" was code for hostile. The docking AI sent the berth assignment to QXJldGh1c2E= which quickly consulted the station schematics. It immediately returned a staccato burst of 0s and 1s expressing a request for confirmation.

Once confirmed, QXJldGh1c2E= maneuvered itself into the berth, with no help from its crew, but kept its docking bay sealed until station personnel arrived. At that point, control of the ship seemed to pass to Sanctuary AIs and station personnel, but QXJldGh1c2E= remained engaged and ready to intervene in their commands if they conflicted with its core priorities.

When requested to, QXJldGh1c2E= politely opened its docking bay and adjusted its interior conditions to Station-set optimums for multiple species. It followed the station personnel in their Hazmat gear through its hundreds of security cameras, recording their lifesigns and facial expressions as they registered the havoc within. To the last genderfluid member of the crew, they were strewn about the ship. Some had appendages turned at unnatural angles. Others were splattered with life fluids, their own or their nearest neighbor's. A few had been ripped apart, most showed exterior trauma, but a very small number didn't appear to have been touched at all. The only thing the bodies had in common was that not a single one survived attempts to revive them.

[OOC: Locked to the people tagged in the subject line. If you missed the plot call and would like your character to investigate during this post, contact Allie. I will be making several TL dividers, to mark the passage of time. Please see them for where to tag in. Ship specs are here.]

cpt_harkness

Jack was not one to sit around idle and so one of the first things he'd done after acquainting himself with the station was to find himself employment. He'd be damned if he was going to subsist on goo cubes and he liked the freedom more credits allowed. So he had found work as a maintenance tech and every day he was dispatched to different parts of the station to check couplings, to repair circuits, to do general upkeep...and there was always the loathesome task of pest removal.

There was none of that today, thankfully. Just Jack diging around inside a panel to make sure the motherboard that controlled the lights in this sector was in good working order. That took him mere minutes and then he put the panel back in place, picked up his tool kit, and began to move on.

He moved on straight to the common area of this level so he could get himself a cup of tea and a piece of fruit. He was addicted to the sweet hydropinic lobed fruits that he'd bought upon arrival. He ate one every day.

Jack put his tool kit on a table and settled in with his snack, smiling at the first person who met his gaze.

"Hello," he said, one word laced with so much promise that it was so much more than a simple greeting.

acceptedmewithasmile

Miia was frightened.

It wasn't a good feeling. For every scary thing that had happened to her since coming to Japan, none had truly rendered her as afraid as being boxed into a small room, a synthetic voice telling her she couldn't go home. At first she had thought she was being deported, and for what crime she didn't know. Ms. Smith surely would have come for her if that was the case, and her Darling would have fought for her, but as much as she called out...

As much as she called out, or banged her fists on the door, or beat her tail against the floor, Darling didn't come. Her love wasn't rescuing her in a blaze of gallant glory as he had when Draco had forced their advances on her, or when that terrible couple had harassed her, or when she had nearly drowned in Mero's pool.

He wasn't coming. He had to come for her, but he wasn't.

If she hadn't believed in him so strongly, it would have felt like a betrayal.

The most frustrating part was knowing the other girls were with him somewhere. Papi and her childish charm, Centorea and her quiet nobility, Mero and her subtle sensuality. They were with him and she wasn't, and if she wasn't there he may pick one of them as his bride. It made her teeth bare and her scales itch at the thought. She loved him the most, she was his first guest, she was the one who deserved to marry him.

By the time the door opened she had worked herself up into such a jealous frenzy that she nearly flew from her little prison, ignoring the little bits of machinery she had been instructed to take. She slid down corridors, thumped her tail in irritation over every second that passed in the elevator, and when the door slid open she all but bulleted down the next hallway, careless of where she was going.

No matter what that stupid voice said, she needed to find her Darling. And she needed to find him now.

[Miia has arrived, but is in some pretty strong denial. Find her anywhere on the station, frantically searching for the love of her life.]

makemeastone

She stuck to her regiment of pills, supplements and diet (mostly) because she’d promised Simon; but when the supplies in the medical kit she had found in her room ran out, she couldn't make herself go to the clinic. She knew intellectually that she needed the medication, certainly Simon would think so. But Simon wasn’t here and River didn’t like doctors.

Decision made.

Gradually things got louder, crowded in but she'd long since learned that she had no ownership of the emotions of the people around her. She could make no demands on what they felt, or how deeply. The people on the station, often deep in their own thoughts had nothing to do with her even if she felt each emotion as strongly as her own. Their bad day was her bad day. Their joy was her joy. Their fear was her fear. It all mixed and blurred and eddied around her with its own current rolling in and out like the tide.

On Serenity she'd gotten adept at identifying whose emotions she was feeling by how it tasted on her tongue. But here on Sanctuary there were so many minds always thinking and doing and feeling something and the taste got muddied until she couldn't always tell where she ended and they began. She was everything and nothing, an empty vessel, a lighting rod - fighting the conflicting sea of emotions was exhausting and futile so she decided simply to stop.

The side effect of this was that her brain had gotten rather literal and so she simply stopped - in the middle of the Marketplace, eyes closed, arms out, head back and just... floated.

bat_ai

Bat'ai had never known whose idea it was to set up the small machine shop on the respectable fringes of the station's black market, but he'd really like to buy that being a drink. Okay, it wasn't in the more glamorous retail section, but what he missed in glamor he made up in foot traffic. It never ceased to tickle him when he'd get some furtive looking alien dart in with some bit of tech or another under a coat, in a pocket or in a bag. One enterprising sort had used magic to shrink a whole broken ship and had nearly returned it to normal size...inside the shop. He could heal, sure, but he was fairly certain that even his cell regeneration couldn't handle reattaching pieces or returning him from a liquid to a solid.

As he watched yet another way-too-casual shopper looking around the shop while casting looks over his shoulder, Bat'ai remembered fondly the discussion with the ship owner. He'd apparently won the ship in a game of cards but without any way to leave the station in it, he'd thought it worthless. He'd taken the 100 credits Bat'ai offered and had been grateful for it. Now that ship was permanently docked through an airlock at the back of his shop and served as his living quarters. He hadn't minded the dorm-like quality of his assigned quarters, and still kept a few impersonal things there, he preferred the solitude of his ship. Alone could be almost disturbingly quiet at times, but it was infinitely safer than the familial vibe he'd sensed from others in the quarters with him.

After ten minutes of watching the alien pick up random items and put them back down again, Bat'ai figured he'd been patient enough.

"Look, mate. No one's going to call security on you if you've got something less than legal under that coat."

He did nothing but grin at the range of facial expressions from shock, to outrage, to acceptance visible through the scales and feelers. They all tried, they all failed. He'd been here too long to react. He just waited until they were through pretending and brought their ill-gotten gains to him to fix, or buy, or whatever else they might need.

[OOC: Find Bat'ai in his shop. Your pup can either be the one he's talking to, or another customer browsing out of curiosity and looking to see what kind of tech he's got. His stock is a mix of alien machinery and human machinery - some can be recognizeable, some won't be. Go nuts.]

ice_tomeetyou

Leonard Snart had seen a lot in the last few years. First Barry and his speed, causing so many problems in Central City (and at least two trips to prison he could have done without), then the Waverider and the time travelling part of it. Truly, waking up after his fight with Mick into a strange place, where he was told he was in 'quarantine'? He was at the stage of shrugging and just rolling with it.

He absorbed as much as he could about his new surroundings in the time in quarantine. After all, what was the point in wasting it? Maps, general information about who was there, anything was devoured in an attempt to make the best of it. Because he was so good at it, and all this was was somewhere new to rob blind.

His bruises had pretty much faded by the time they opened the door. That was fine. The outfit was basic, but then, it was most of the time. He could deal. It wouldn't take long to find some decent clothes.

With his usual swagger in place, and a faint half smile plastered on, Captain Cold stepped out into the main area, surveying his surroundings. It may look like he was being casual about it, but he was taking every single thing in. First order of business - explore every single square inch of this place that he could. Firstly to check for hidey holes that could be used; secondly to check that they were truly stuck here; thirdly... there was bound to be something to steal. The technology was beyond anything even on the Waverider. Fencing it could be more of a problem, but it was nothing he hadn't worked with before. Was there a black market in place? If not, it could be a great little sideline.

Opportunities. That's what he had. If he was away from his friends (and who knew who was actually his friend right now), opportunities was the next best thing.

[Len's in full on charm mode right now. He's as approachable and as curious as he ever will be.]

malachai

Nick remembered when he first showed up at the strip club on the island. He'd made it very clear that he could work in the jazz club, but going anywhere near the upstairs portion of the place was not going to happen. Being around them, the whole atmosphere, had just reminded him too much of the mother he'd lost - the mother who'd been murdered the night he'd died the first time.

Now, he thought, here he stood, once more in need of a job and finding one at a strip club. Maybe he was finally moving on from losing her...no, there was no maybe about it. He had moved past the shattering grief. He'd known it when he first walked in and felt nothing more than a bittersweet nostalgia. There was no sense whatsoever of the sadness, or the rage, that had once haunted him.

Then again, it could very well have been that none of the strippers had been humanoid.

So now here he sat in front of one of Sanctuary's strip joints, seated in the bouncer chair designed to keep him on hand if anyone got rowdy out front but still be able to get into the club quickly if rowdy decided to visit the stage or attempt to get into the dressing rooms.

He listened to the barker out on the main thoroughfare, passing out flyers and trying to drum up business, and thanked the gods that he knew how to fight so he was saved having to take that job. Who was he kidding, he'd have worked the trash haulers before he took that one.

To pass the time, he kept an eye out for other humans, or human-like aliens, trying to place the faces. And, if he was honest, stared pretty intently at the aliens, too. He just hoped if he stumbled across a Klingon or Cardassian he could keep his geek in check and not get himself beat up for being an idiot about meeting them.

Find Nick either sitting just inside the strip club (visible if your character is just walking by) or on his break and standing out on the main walk in front of the club on a bench, people and alien watching.

cora_hale

Cora had been on this...this space station for a day and it'd been one of the weirdest days of her life.

First she'd gone to sleep in her comfy room in the pack-house, only to wake up trapped in some kind of weird quarantine cell. That'd been an awesome experience. Nothing like being stripped out of your own clothes, put into a set of scrubs - and if she ever found out who'd done that she was going to take great pleasure in ripping off their fingers - and left trapped like a rat in a lab while being driven slowly insane with a recorded message.

Then, when whoever was in charge of this place had finally opened the door to her cell, Cora had stalked out into the main area outside only to be confronted with an honest to god, actual alien.

She hadn't meant to meet any aliens at all, but she'd been staring up at the vast ceiling when she managed to walk bodily into the hulking, heavily scaled creature, been scared stupid, screamed and let her fangs drop which in turn scared the creature who then started to make a weird keening noise which was apparently its species distress call by virtue of a dozen seriously pissed off people all chasing her out of the area she'd just walked into.

Cora had run at full tilt down random corridors, taking turn after turn to lose the mob, eventually holing up in some kind of marketplace behind some foul smelling tanks. She'd watched her pursuers go running past and then took off in the other direction, not stopping until she reached a quiet area away from everything.

The small freak out she'd had while she was tucked into an alcove in that deserted place had left her exhausted and it was all she could do to haul herself to her assigned quarters and collapse into the small but functional bed.

Now it was morning on the second day and she felt a little better. Her original nightclothes had apparently been washed and stored neatly in closet in her little apartment. She was grateful for that at least. Something familiar. Something home. Booty shorts were probably not the best exploring clothes, she conceded, but the tank top would work and she slipped it on, tying the drawstrings on her standard issue scrub pants.

She grabbed the little comms thing and the tablet and stashed them in her pockets before setting out to explore the place she was apparently stuck in for the near future.

[OOC: Find Cora out and about on the station exploring. She's going to be on her guard but she won't be unapproachable. Open forever!]

rememory

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To reach the unreachable staaaaaaaaaar....

From the kitchen that she'd designated as the focal point for de and reconstruction, Sabine barked, "Mimi!" and then choked out a laugh that was half a sob. Man of La Mancha had always been one of Byron's favorite musicals.

"What? You can't build without music and you don't have a boombox!"

"No one has a boombox anymore. Don't make me regret manifesting you." She shook a finger at the showgirl ghost who was lounging on the back of the couch like it was a baby grand.

Unrepentant, Mimi went on singing,

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star.

"I love that line, don't you?" Mimi teased not just Sabine but Scott, even though he was out of earshot.

"Zip it, or it's Tsura's turn," Sabine snapped, cringing at the reference to their chaste, but far less than pure love.

"What was that?" Scott emerged from the next-door apartment through the hole he'd put between them to make testing the walls for support beams easier. There were two more like it in the filthy foursquare they'd chosen to turn into a community area -- for the time being.

"Nothing. Mimi was just asking your favorite musical so she could sing for you. Isn't that right, Mimi?" Mind-to-ghost she sent #Don't even contradict me.# Forbidding it with power was the simplest of her abilities, but Sabine didn't abridge her free will.

Mimi just laughed and laughed, sticking to Impossible Dream until the next person joined them Then she started in on songs from Annie:

It's a hard knock life for us!
It's a hard knock life for us!

Sighing, Sabine shot Scott and the newcomer an apologetic look then shrugged helplessly. "It's not like she's wrong."

[ooc: Gathering post! Sabine and Scott are clearing out a group of four apartments to start with to make a communal kitchen, dining, sitting area on level D. Mimi is audible and vaguely visible as a holographic figure of a showgirl with an indistinct face. She won't interact unless you ping me and ask for her. Will, Molly, Marie, Jack, Sebastian, Nick, Porthos, Maggie, all got a message inviting them for potluck and construction. Anyone else can have heard from them or have seen the 'excuse our dust' sign and stop by. Feel free; all are welcome. Tag Sabine with a note in the subject line; all other tags are top levels.]

Current Mood: busy
Current Location: D-Level
Current Music: showtunes

tenthlife

Every time it seemed I had a handle on my tenth life, my eyes would close and I'd wake up in another world. I’d awakened in many new lives, opened new eyes on new worlds and I’d had to acclimate. I’d adjusted to new sights and sounds, to blindness, to lack of mobility, to cold, analytical thoughts and then, finally, to the bright, vivid, and emotional world of humans.

Earth had been the first time I’d opened my eyes into a new body of the same species. It had been almost as disconcerting as adjusting to a new species, and in some ways it had been even more challenging. Rather than a new type of body, I’d had to accept that the body I had wasn’t able to do the same things and had different reactions. Would it have been easier for me if I’d awakened in this body in the caves, surrounded by my human friends? Maybe, or maybe not. I had no way of knowing for sure. It also didn’t change anything. I spent a year on an island with a different family of humans, in a place where no one had ever heard of souls, knew nothing of our invasion, and treated me not like a monster but like another oddity in a place filled with them. And now, I was in another that appeared, for all intents, to be a spaceport. The star field outside its windows was one that I'd never seen before. Not in ten lives, or countless trips across thousands of light years.

Whether that meant anything or not, I couldn't say. It wasn't as if I was conscious on my journeys through space from one life to another. I could have passed this station several times and I'd never have known it. For me, it was just another experience to add into countless others I'd had as a human, much more than any soul had ever had, I was sure.

Odder still to find a friend here among the residents of this space station - not another soul, thankfully - but one from the island. Nick and I had been friends and being able to talk to him again here had helped at least answer some questions and having that touchstone settled me here faster than anything else had.

Now I got up from where I’d been sitting and pondering the stars overhead and made my way to a railing that overlooked a commerce center. I had decisions to make about what to do with myself here. I had no skills, at least none that would mean anything on a spaceport, and while I knew now I could survive on the sustenance that came from the replicators, it left a lot to be desired for taste.

“And I’m frankly tired of food that serves nutritional needs only,” I said to no one in particular.

Find Wanderer anywhere in the station, looking over a railing. One thing to note is her eyes - there is a silver circle of light around the pupil and if a light hits her eyes, that light will reflect back out.

irishcoffee

Maggie had managed nearly a full two hours in the dreariness of her living quarters before she abandoned them to start exploring her new home. It was something she'd always suggested to the drops ins at home and felt it would be hypocritical of her to not follow her own advice.

While she walked, she thought about taking a few weeks as a sort of vacation. She'd never taken one at home, never taken so much as a day off at the cafe, or as the town's caretaker. Now, there was nothing pressing on her - no business to run, no drop ins popping into being in front of her, confused and disoriented. It would be nice to focus on just herself for a while.

That had lasted almost a full day before she was climbing the walls.

Remembering the cafe she and Finn had passed on their way to their living space, Maggie had headed out two days after she'd arrived and sought out the proprietor. She was fairly certain he wasn't human, but he spoke English, so that was at least a starting point. When she began outlining that the place was filthy, needed both order and someone competent to run it, his eyes had widened and a smile showed some truly spectacularly bad teeth. Apparently, he'd realized that with someone running the cafe, he could spend more time drinking and watching screen. He'd hired her on the spot.

It hadn't taken long to get the place cleaned, and she was working on keeping it that way. A few of the regulars had grumbled off, upset at the change, but newer customers had taken their place and it all balanced.

Now she was running the bar, keeping an eye on the servers, and introducing Sanctuary to the joys of a properly made coffee that in now way resembled roofer's tar.

And damn if she wasn't happy with all of it.

"Can I help you?" she asked without looking up when she sensed someone take the seat in front of her.

Info on Mog's Cafe can be found on the wiki. Come in for coffee or a drink, or just to say hi. Open to all. Tag Maggie or top level for anyone else to tag.

sanctuaryrpgmods

There were no flashing lights, no alarms. The doors to the quarantine chambers simply opened, the whoosh of seals breaking was the only fanfare.

Quarantine was on a quiet level of the station, a gently pulsing light set into the wall leading the chamber's temporary residents out into the station proper. Outside, station officials wandered by but paid no particular attention to the newcomers; new arrivals were nothing new to them, just a fact of life on Sanctuary. New people arrived in the chambers, station staff logged them, and the computers arranged everything else. So they went about their business, eyes glued to the screens they held.

Of course the newcomers weren't aware of any of this. Anyone who called out to the station staff was greeted with a wan smile and directed toward one of the many terminal screens lining the walls of the large open space between the central tower and the rest of the station.

The terminal screens asked for a fingerprint before offering any additional information. Their names flashed up with a map to their new home in the living quarters and some basic information on the currency contained in the chip in their hand and what it might buy them. A brief explanation of the silver communication unit followed, and then the news of the past twenty-four hours played. War on planets in a neighbouring system, the weather on a vacation world, sports scores for a game that seems a cross between lacrosse, hockey, and quidditch. Nothing of use, of course, nothing that could get them off the planet.

The quiet entrance to the living quarters was on one side of the atrium, and the sounds of a bustling marketplace that could not be contained came from a much wider opening on the other. People of all shapes, colours, and species walked through the space along with station officials and technicians using their tablet like screens, dark uniformed security officers chatting as they strolled their patrols.

The station carried on obliviously while the newcomers watched, each with only their credit chip, a place to live, and a basic outfit. Clearly that was all the welcome they were to expect; what happened next would be up to them.

[[Gathering post and opening of Sanctuary RPG. Put in your characters coming out their quarantine]]

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Recent Entries

Boxed In (Arrival - Open)

Summer Solstice Festival!

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There's something weird in the neighborhood...

Ghost Ship - Arrival [tag Hawk, Sabine, later Jack, Kate, Will, and later Bat'ai, Len]

On The Job

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Tide Coming In (Open - tag Len)

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There was strange, and there was STRANGE

Griplat Krek

Stranger than fiction.

They don't make jukeboxes like they used to...

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Mog's Cafe

And the station opens...

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September 2016

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