A NEW PLATFORM [INTRO POST JANUARY]

[voidtreckermods]

On the Train

Despite whatever Voidtreckers may have learned or how they feel about those revelations - or reminders - of the precariousness of their situation, the train flies ever onward.

"Good morning Voidtreckers, it is day one of the month of Poi. Points have been updated on the system."

With points updated, everyone can spend the morning shopping. Most people will be expecting the second announcement that comes a few hours later.

"Shortly arriving into a designated void platform. Exit from void in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. The weather is dry but there is a chill to the air and a strong breeze." A lurch and a jolt, and the windows fill with the fog that means they are at a platform.

The doors open. As usual, those who leave first notice nothing, walking silently, rucksacks on their backs, towards the barriers. Dairine, Okada Izō, Rapunzel, Satoru and Siebren; all pass across the platform, not looking back. And then they're gone, disappeared through the barriers and into the fog beyond.

But on the platform itself there are thirteen new faces. Wearing hoodies in all four colours and in various states of confusion.

For New Passengers

At first all they can see is steam billowing around them as they come to their senses. As their eyes adjust, they find themselves on a platform. The platform is long with a grassy mound behind them. It is blustery and the air is cold, they will be glad of those hoodies.

They are standing, in clothes that are not their own and a style they might not even recognise. They are carrying a rucksack on their back. For a moment it seems to just be them, alone on the foggy, windy platform; then the fog begins to fade and they realise they aren’t alone.

Thirteen figures, all facing the tracks, all dressed in cargo trousers and hoodies. Then there is a roaring sound and out of the fog arrives a train. Jet black with gold writing on the side. The Voidtrecker Express. There is a hiss as the doors slide open and out pours a strange assortment of people, over a hundred at least. Some are human, some are less so. Most are wearing the same hoodie in one of the four colours, red, orange, blue and purple, though some are sporting different clothes in a variety of styles.

Behind them, the doors close, and the train is cloaked in the same fog that hides the world beyond the platform.

The Train

After a short time, perhaps ten minutes or so, the fog clears and the doors hiss open again. Those from the train may encourage those on the platform to board. It’s not like there's anywhere else to go and even if there was, you feel a pull. A need to board, a feeling that staying on the platform would lead to something terrible. If that is not enough, there are plenty of people on the platform now, to encourage them onto the train.

Each ICP shows the same message and next to the screens there are stacks of leaflets written by those on the train, with further information (see
'Publications'). The store rooms have been restocked with fresh ingredients, with cans of corned beef lining the shelves.

For passengers that have bought items, these are also scattered around the luggage carriage in various suitcases and bags. Those from purple who go to find their prize will find a large box containing a gingerbread train for them to share. Plenty enough to go around, even for the largest team.

New passengers will find their ticket allows them into their cabins. In most rooms, the occupied beds are obvious, leaving the spotless, empty spaces for the newcomers. Room is tight but there are storage cubbies at the head of each bed, beds fold up and the bottom bunks double as benches for the small table. There is storage under those benches full of spare blankets and pillows.

Snow Time: Rock Garden

Winter seems to have followed from Osiga and nested in the rock garden. There's a chill that nips in the air and a light snow (real snow) fills the air. A thin cloudy haze at the top of the carriage seems the source. Yet the kaleidoscope of the void will assure that this is no timely world stop.

People might have seen it occurring the night before. Snow falling heavy before tapering off with an odd precision, leaving a heavy blanket over the carriage 'ground'. By morning of Platform Day, a miniature winter has descended, ripe for snowforts, snowballs, angels and snowmen.

It's not just the climate that's changed. Many statues and rock features are missing or moved. Digging below the snow reveals soil now frozen but providing a barrier between the bare floor of the carriage. Keen eyes will see changes are made with safety and available space in mind. The fountain has been emptied but the pond and streams are frozen solid, allowing intrepid spirits to try slide-skating over the surfaces without the risk of breaking through. The mosaics are still around, and enchantments are in place to protect paintings and paper decorations from damp. Any plants have been sent to sleep or taken to safety.

The benches are still around. Paths and bridges are covered with fresh snow, but, as the day goes on, it's trampled down and or scattered. Najaran's woodfolk may be glimpsed near Jingyi's shrine or hiding in the shadows of rocks and statues still present, perhaps even buried in the snow and peeking out. Shy around humans, though those with pointed ears or Hylian lineage may find an easier time interacting.

There are signs on both doors of the carriage warning of the change and mentioning the dressing carriage will have winter gear, and it does: with hats, scarves, gloves and ice skates in a variety of sizes. Dispensers with warm drinks such as coffee, hot chocolate and hot water for tea are available in the Games Carriage.

Early the next day, the snow will be gone and the gardens returned to how they once were.

Departure

A second horn sounds to encourage any stragglers taking advantage of the fresh air, and the doors slide shut. Veteran passengers know what will happen next, but they may wish to brief their new companions.

The train sets off, the fog obscuring the view again as it picks up speed.

"Welcome aboard, passengers of the Voidtrecker Express." A female-coded artificial sounding voice echoes throughout the train. "Please take the time to read the passenger information displayed on the Information and Communication points and familiarise yourself with the layout and emergency exits."

The train begins to tilt, leaving the ground and rising up into the fog-filled sky.

"Entrance into Voidspace imminent. New passengers are advised to remain seated. Entry into Voidspace in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one."

A shudder, a jolt, a lurch to the left. A flash of light, colourful and blinding. As quick as it happens it is done. The train seems to steady itself. The fog from the windows is gone now, replaced with a kaleidoscope of ever-changing colours.

Welcome to the Void!

Comments

General Amaya | The Dragon Prince | OTA

[the_aunt_general]

On the Platform [OPEN]

She watches Rapunzel go with some sadness; she'd liked her, the girl had been kind, and a wonderful artist. The wall of her bunk had been painted by Rapunzel, as it happened - it was a treasure, as far as she was concerned.

But she's there to meet newcomers, standing at half attention, arms behind her back. Newcomers' SCAs will translate her sign language, either in subtitles on the device, or dubbed - convenient for those who don't know sign!

Practice Makes Perfect [OPEN]

The platform is also large enough that she can exercise her sword drill in the cold of the open air, which adds something a bit more to the practice. Granted, Amaya isn't terribly usual in that regard - her shield is sharpened at both ends, itself an oft-surprising offensive weapon. And her technique, well. That is flawless.

Each movement is precise, unwavering. And about as fast as a normal human is ever going to get.

Practice make perfect

[mynameisallen]

"Never thought to use the platform to practice. I guess with the amount of space when people start getting on it make sense." He was also impressed with her skills to and couldn't help but watch at all.

"You must be use to using a weapon, huh?"

[the_aunt_general]

She sheathed the sword to respond, hands moving in sign - knowing the SCA's dubbing or subtitling would keep up.

It's good to practice in something sort of like the open air. And yes, I was practically born with a sword.

[mynameisallen]

Well this was unexpected. Sign language. Something he hadn't experienced a lot before, so he was a little bit glad that there was something to help him understand what the signs meant. Otherwise it could have gone horribly wrong.

"Yeah being able to practice in the open is good. We don't get to often though. SO I guess that's why you are doing it now." Hearing that she was practically born with a sword made Allen a little sad to an extent. Did that mean her world had a lot of violence or something going on?

[the_aunt_general]

Every world did, if you looked hard enough. At least that was her opinion. But she'd always been destined for this. It was just who she was. But she nodded, as he spoke, then added to it, her hands moving.

The cold is also nice. A change.

[mynameisallen]

"You mean a change to having no weather for the most part on the train? Because that I can agree with."

While the train was nice in certain ways it wasn't great in others. Mostly the lack of being able to go places unless the train needed or wanted to stop at a world or something.

"But at least we might be going on a mission this time... It's been a while after all. Wonder what the world will be like when we get to that."

[the_aunt_general]

Probably weird, she signs in return. Probably very weird.

[mynameisallen]

"Depends on what you define as weird. But... I'm kinda use to weird at this point, so don't take my word for it." He's been travelling for way too long at this point.

[the_aunt_general]

She's quiet for a moment, shrugging.

My usual definitions have all gotten thrown out before I was brought here anyway - so I guess we'll just have to classify as we go.

[mynameisallen]

"We get to decide what is weird." Though to Allen he figured anything at this point wasn't going to be all that strange.

"But oh, I have to ask. Before you came here did you learn how to use the sword for someone or did you teach yourself?"

[the_aunt_general]

I had tutors, but most of my technique is unique to me, these days.

Platform: and can we handwave that they introduced eachother?

[soldier_blade]

Sonya couldn't call herself a people watcher, but with the number of people leaving the train, she'd since grown numb at any attachments, so observing others just came in second.

After everyone was settled of course, though admittedly that never had a set time.

She did, however, recognize the look the other woman hand-a sense of resignation and sadness. The same her own expression took for some months after her arrival to this shit show.

"I've been here over a year," She spoke the words carefully. "Platform day never gets easier."

Done and done.

[the_aunt_general]

She nodded at that, signing slowly in reply.

Loss never does. Sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking it's otherwise. Even the small ones.

Re: Done and done.

[soldier_blade]

The device translated her words, and she could only shrug. "Never easy, especially when you know what they're going back to. Resignation's just easier to deal with then loss."

Or perhaps that was just her. "The wait is worse, not knowing who will be leaving."

And rarely was there a Platform day when someone wasn't leaving.

[the_aunt_general]

Well, she recognizes that attitude within half a second. For some reason, it's absolutely familiar to someone who has served as a General longer than she'd like to remember. It got you past it, sometimes.

It wasn't healthy, necessarily. But sometimes...necessary, anyways.

She took a deep breath, signing again.

It's like the night before a battle, every time. That slight edge, no matter what you do. No matter how many times you see it, I'll bet.

Platform

[salutosinedelectat]

As he watches the young blonde woman leave the platform, he casts his eyes over the crowd and just happens to catch sight of Amaya. He recognizes her from her first day on the train - and recognizes the the vague hint of grief as she watches the other girl go.

As it stands, there's not much to do while they way for departure, so he figures he may as well approach the young woman he noticed.

"Hello." He smiles politely at her as he makes himself known, then looks towards the door out of the station. "Did you know her?"

[the_aunt_general]

She waves, with a silent sigh, looking back to the now-deserted exit for a moment. Then she nods, beginning to sign her response.

Not as well as I should have, I think. But she was a talented artist. A good soul.

[salutosinedelectat]

Aziraphale nods.

"I did speak with her a few times. Not many, but she did seem to be a rather bright young girl."

[the_aunt_general]

She nods in turn, in agreement.

She painted my bunk for me. Something good to look at, in the monotony.

[salutosinedelectat]

"Oh, how delightful. I did see her carry her supplies around but I never did get to look at her works, unfortunately."

[the_aunt_general]

There may be a few left, somewhere on the train. I like to hope so. If there was enough of a stockpile, maybe I'd see about leaving a few. In galleries, in some of the universes we stop in. Spread that light around a bit.

[salutosinedelectat]

"Spreading her work. Much of the same that happened to many of the artist considered masters nowadays."

Aziraphale thinks about it for a moment.

"Perhaps you could ask around the train. Leave a message on the network."

[the_aunt_general]

Maybe, she signs. Granted, people who knew her better might be the best sort to arrange that. People might not respond so well to a stranger.

[salutosinedelectat]

"Hm, fair point. Although, perhaps those close to her might like the idea of her work being known. Perhaps it's a bit early to offer the idea, but, sometime down the line."

[the_aunt_general]

She nods.

Down the line, then. A good idea is one worth sleeping on.