⇨ SPACE OLYMPICS

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 30 - Day 44
Where: The carnival, Zargon, and Olympic Spaceship
What: Things return back to normal as the carnival performs for aliens of all sorts at the Space Olympics. Or at least, as normal as it can be when you've got an underfunded and falling-apart spaceship hovering over a deadly planet.
Warnings: Sports and people's inability to do them.

REACH FOR THE STARS↴ At first glance, the Space Olympics seem marvelous. Aliens from all over the universe, of all shapes and sizes have joined together in an intergalactic display of teamwork and sportmanship. What could be more inspiring than that? It's only when you hang around for a bit that you notice things aren't exactly in tip-top shape. ► OLYMPIC SPACESHIP: This is where most of the events are held. It's a massive spaceship spanning hundreds of miles and consisting of multiple floors. Teleportation discs and space public transport can take you anywhere on the spaceship in a blink of an eye. It has almost every amenity an athlete can think of: multiple gyms, practice arenas, saunas, etc. Likewise, there are plenty of things for civilians and spectators: merchandise stands, shopping malls, grocery stores, and television screens everywhere so people can watch the event. Shuttles to and from Zargon arrive on a regular basis. ► ZARGON: Facility wise, Zargon itself is less impressive than Olympic Spaceship. The carnival and the athlete's village comprise most of the habitable areas. Both are concealed underneath a large biodome, the main thing making the area livable. Enterprising Zargonites have set up stands that let people explore outside of the biodome. Rent a spacesuit and you too can enjoy Zargon's natural wonders, such as the distant red plateaus and the stunning solar winds. Just try and stay away from the toxic mold, naturally occurring pockets of hallucinogenic gas, and ten foot tall Zargon Death Flytrap. ► 1980s TRAINING MONTAGE: Since carnival members can only attempt to medal in one event, why not try different sports to see what that one event is? There's equipment for all sorts of sports: gymnastics, swimming, biathalon, snowboarding, etc. They've even somehow brought space horses up here for Space Dressage! There's also equipment for sports that carnival members might not have even known existed: Space Gymkata, Space Pooh Sticks, Space Limbo Skating, etc. The sky's the limit! ► A BIT OF A BUDGET SNAFU: The Space Olympics is kind of falling apart. After performance week, the carnival is drafted to help out and keep the Space Olympics running as smoothly as possible. This means fixing buildings, breaking up fights, helping in the kitchen, trying to sell merch, etc. If there's a feasible problem, the carnival members will be drafted to help fix it. The biggest problem of all is the multiple mechanical failures: artificial gravity stops working, temperatures on the ship rapidly shift from hot to cold, and the snow machines for Space Slopestyle won't turn off. ► PERFORMANCE: Performance week will start early this stop, to try and get everyone back into the swing of things after the chaos of Wismuth. Athletes from the village roam the carnival, taking in the sights and sounds. A lot of them haven't ever seen anything like the magic of the carnival and it's workers and will proceed to ask question after question about how all of this works: turns out that sci-fi and fantasy don't crossover as much as one would think. Still, don't be alarmed when you turn the corner and there's a Hutt trying his hand at test your strength.

Comments

⇨ INVESTIGATIONS

[ringleaders]

Not all locations will have much to investigate, necessarily, but this is the section where people can make investigation requests for if their character wants to learn more about a setting than is immediately apparent. This can also be used to cover the broad strokes of interacting with various available NPCS.

Like before, you must be specific about what your character is doing to find new information, and you must keep your requests to one or two actions per comment. No big laundry lists of things your character is doing - it is much easier to handle taking it one topic at a time.

[whattaprick]

As far as the competition goes this is a mix of an IC/OOC question: how will brackets/scoring/eliminations for our respective sports go? I figure it's a given that if another character is competing in the same sport we should probably coordinate with each other, but it'd good to know how much leeway we have (especially if our 'sport' is a weirder one, like one that relies on building and playing card decks).

On a nightrunnery note: Lambert wants to know who's in charge of this whole situation, if such a person (or committee, whatever) even exists. Primarily, he'll be doing this by asking anyone who even looks mildly official who they work for, looking at any informational displays and brochures, etc.

Specifically, he'd probably want to figure out if officials are actually physically at the village or on the spaceship.

He's also interested in finding out what kind of security force is responsible for enforcing compliance with whatever the Space Olympics has that passes for rules!

⇨ SPACE SIGN UPS

[kates]

Want your character to compete in a sport and try to medal? Comment here to do so! One character per comment please. And remember, characters can only attempt to medal in one event.

Name: duh
Sport: all sports inexplicably have the word Space in front of them: Space Biathlon, Space Basketball, Space Hover Motocross, etc.
Ranking: either poor, good, or professional, as explained on the ooc post.
Justification: here's where you explain why your character would be pro level at Space Cheese Rolling.

[motivenotfound]

Name: Mari Makinami Illustrious
Sport: Space LASER TAG
Ranking: Professional!
Justification: Mari uses guns and evasive action with guns pretty much exclusively as an Eva pilot, and that's like... if it's possible for a job to be MORE than life or death, this probably fits the bill. She swapped to the Lance at the Carnival because guns are banned here, but she's been keeping those skills sharp by using her eyeball gun to nail unsuspecting coworkers.

I was looking for a gif of Unit 08 with a gun to be a Cool Kid (TM) with a Real Canon (also TM) but I found this instead so I guess you can admire what a smug piece of shit she is.

Tyki Mikk | OTA - Prose or Brackets, I'll match - CW: Spiders

[prazerbutterfly]

Routine

Things were the same as they always were. A location came and went, with or without complications, and it was performance week all over again. He could get lost in the activity and keep to himself as much as he wanted.

Usually he got up before the sun on Performance week, reported to at least one of his Supervisors, Childermass and/or Joker, that he was heading into a location to poke around. He would always be back for Performances and it was just so someone would know where he was. This time around he hadn't bothered to do either. Tyki figured if either of them really needed him he was a text ring away. He had slept in, relaxed and comfortable as he was, and chose to remain unseen for the time being until Performances started. At the end of the day Tyki was the type to laze about and Wismuth had taken a lot out of him given the amount of people missing. Tyki had a job to do and had done it well in his opinion. He deserved to be lazy every now and then and his new addition of a long panther tail was an equally new hindrance. It gave away his position the way it hanged out of various objects he might try to hide in.

Since his water tank was being used for his Performances it wasn't a viable option to hide in like he normally would, often found dozing at the bottom of it hidden by a curtain. If anyone does manage to find him he can be found at his boat at the lake, high up in one of the round rolling pins in Lambert's training grounds, lazing in a tree somewhere, picking something up at the cookhouse to go eat elsewhere, idly watching Doll perform while Strange is on stage, or just anywhere he can be lazy.

The only consistent place he can be found on a daily basis is on stage where the Magicians perform their acts. He's not lazy nor late. His performance is full of energy and entices the crowd with its magical wonders. After all, he has an excellent poker face and at least tries not to do anything to hinder the carnival.

Meow

After Wismuth, Tyki had taken a lot of new factors into account. There were times he wanted to get around and do what he needed to do without drawing attention to himself. It's why he had gone to the Ringmaster selfishly to request help with a new complex spell. With some practice in between worlds and constant visits to her when he needed assistance with returning to himself, he had found the hardest part was simply learning how to walk on all fours. Allen had been a slight hitch in his plans but with the boy avoiding the trailer he had plenty of time to himself.

There's a new black cat lingering about the carnival with golden eyes and sleek fur. It might be on top of your trailer, in a tree or lounging where it shouldn't be. Or maybe it is just prancing around with an odd sense of elegance or following someone at a whim to see how much they notice. Either way, he's getting practice in with both how to be a cat and how much he can get away with. Feed him if you dare, invite him into your trailer so he can snoop around, or try to touch him.

Results may vary.

Drider

To say Tyki didn't fall on his face when he arrived into the Space Olympics was an understatement. The new eight legs underneath him had been a struggle and if it hadn't been for the practice he had as a cat he might've made a further embarrassment of himself. It's why with some semblance of a pattern he walks almost elegantly and gingerly along the ground, each spiny long legs lightly tapping much like his expensive shoes he normally wore would. After allowing his Power to Choose to assist him he was cheating.

He's gained about three feet, from legs alone, on his usual 6'2 body with the way the spider abdomen, shiny black with a purple sheen, spreads out from his back and connects at his waist. He had a feeling his fascination for his three spider allies would eventually come back to bite him in the ass but he hadn't expected this. Spiny, smooth, and black, each leg moves his body forward in almost precise calculation. He's naked from the waist up with his scars on full visibility and his body reflects an umber grey with angry lines of black crawling up his stomach, instead of the usual Portuguese brown he usually glamours into. His hair hangs long, if not a little more wilder than normal, and if it wasn't for the usual ribbon it would be in the way. He almost seems out of place with the way it hangs in the front and the fact it remained it's unruly black instead of turning white. Little trinkets adorn him here and there with some looped around bits of his hair, legs and waist.

"Amusing," he says dryly like he wants to turn around and go back to the carnival already. He's here though and he may as well keep going.

Wildcard

As usual, I'm available for plotting, anything different, new prompts or just anything in general. Feel free to tag in as you wish or contact me for something different. I'm up for anything, Space Olympics or carnival stuff.

me-ow~

[mylastchance]

He doesn't recognize the cat. Which in itself isn't that startling. New people came and others left and the people who stayed found creatures they took a liking to everywhere they went. He assumes either its a new worker, or a workers pet. It doesn't bother him, in fact it has him smile. It's very like a cat to run away in a new place and claim the roof of someone else's trailer as his or her own. Still, it's owner will likely be worried, or if it is a new worker it may have questions. Plus, Lauren has a fondness for animals, especially the kinds he can actually recognize, so he stops and smiles it's way.

"Hello. I haven't seen you around here before." He takes a step closer, slowly. He watches the cat to see if it will look startled or run away.

[criticallyfucked]

Merry-Go-Round Maintenance From Hell

Foster has been skirting a breakdown for days, almost a week since Herbert led him into the dead-end alley, and in the days after the concert, he feels it more. The new, sharply-edged but hollowed-out him. Paranoid and brittle-thin, like he's being slowly crushed under a massive, implacable weight, a burden sized so that just one more pound, one more inch would be enough to make him finally break. But he can't, he can't ever reach that breaking point and he's just there, just on the verge but never crossing over, forced to drag himself on through the thick, sluggish haze of misery.

The thing about feeling different, or even being different, is that he has no idea if it's noticeable on the outside the way it is on the inside. It seems like it must be--before, he would have been certain that something would either be as irrelevant and invisible as he was irrelevant and invisible, or as transparently exposed as his literal skin.

But with Psi gone, a lot of the tasks that were performed by his psionics have become Foster's job, because he's the only one who can reach them. Tasks like replacing the light bulbs on the carousel--which is harder than it looks, or at least it is when your only hands are massive bear paws, and the light bulbs are both numerous and small. It's so hard to focus like this, though--when it's like thinking through mud, or breathing clotted blood. His temper is both short and nonexistent.

Worst of all, it seems like everything is uncertain suddenly--everything is so ambiguous, and there's no clear answers any more to anything.

It's not a good feeling.

The upshot this job means he doesn't have to be around Papyrus for a while--not that Psi can force him to do that any more, but he doesn't trust that Papyrus wouldn't try, and having an excuse to reject him is both a massive relief and a kind of vindictive pleasure.

The downside is... well.

He got the bulb out of its box with some effort, pinching it precariously between his claws and fumbling it up until he can drop it and catch it in his less narrow actual fingers. But getting it into the socket? Turning it? He has to rear up for that part, balancing precariously on his hind legs and planting his front hooves on the nearest goose or pony or rubbish tiger--assuming any are in reach at all, because sometimes they aren't. Like this time. Now he has to brace one furry paw against the upper level and hope desperately that he doesn't drop the light bulb.

Again.

But he barely has the hind end strength to keep steady, and he only has one eye--his right--to see out of. The other is covered in a thick layer of brightly-covered fungus.

So....

Horse Sports IN SPACE

Physical sports used to be his thing. He remembers how much of himself he threw into them; how absolutely himself he felt with a ball in his hands, or how his mental defects didn't seem to exist much when he was taking that ball down the court, goal in sight.

Not so much now, though.

Or maybe so. Maybe they were just replaced by a different way to push his mind and body, a different form of gruelling effort--a differently punishing kind of experience.

Either way, this... is a lot. A lot he doesn't want to think about.

But it is very distracting. It takes up a lot of physical energy. And it takes up even more of the mental kind.

He's visibly concentrating as he tries yet again to get the rhythm of flying lead changes, which is unusual for the permanently-distracted taur--but don't give him too much credit, because his don't look nearly that nice. No, his are jerky, stiff-legged little moves, performed while cantering himself around the dirt-filled ring like a particularly lunatic robot.

And that's when he gets it right.

You'd think it'd be easy, making your own legs move in such and such a way, and performing it at such and such a time, but it's not. More than once he stumbles, or accidentally speeds up, or down, at one point accidentally transitioning into a spectacularly flicky extended trot with no real intention of doing so. At which point he slows almost to a stop--then, abruptly, he accelerates, speeding up to a full sprinting gallop, rushing straight at a set of horizontal jump poles before rearing up and dashing them to the ground with his front hooves in one vicious blow.

Which is... significantly less satisfying than he'd hoped it would be.

Maybe you're using the arena too--practising those jumps yourself, or taking one of those weird multi-legged space horses for a ride. Or maybe you're just watching him, because you need a fucking hobby, you gigantic weirdo.

Maybe you don't even realise it's Foster, because he's a deep blue alien space deer with four eyes and a knife on his tail.

Yes, that's right. Foster van Denend is an Andalite.

Giddy up.

CLOSED TO LAMBERT - DAY 32

Foster tried to contact Lambert on the radio. He actually did contact the Nightrider two days ago, but was effectively told to piss off because there was going to be a party, and that whatever it was could wait.

So he waited.

He waited two days, in fact, because while Foster is not a drinker himself, he is well aware of hangovers and their effects, and this isn't a conversation he's up to having with Lambert in that state. He's not actually sure he's up to having this conversation at all, but at least he knows for certain it's necessary.

And now it's been two days and Lambert is nowhere on Carnival grounds, meaning that he's either on the space station or the Olympic station or... well, on the planet's surface, and if that's the case then all bets are off. Because it's Foster's responsibility to find Lambert and not the other way around. So he goes looking--cantering up and down the ways at a brisk pace, his stalk eyes turned to keep watch on all sides just in case.

By some miracle, he actually passes fairly well for a run-of-the-mill Andalite.

But boy is the sound of hooves-on-metal loud.

WILD CARD

[A lot of people have plans with Foster this month, and if you want something that isn't on here, please feel free to make shit up! Or just hit me up on Plurk or Discord. I'd say the sky's the limit, but shit, we're in space!

Where we're going, we don't need limits!]

ew, it's foster

[whattaprick]

Lambert's sort of forgotten Foster wanted to talk to him, which is more or less par for the course. It's not a hangover that's proven such a distraction, but it works out for the best that the other man's kept his distance, since Lambert would almost certainly have bitten his head off if he'd tried to have any sort of protracted discussion during that first whole day.

The trouble is, of course, that neither of them look like themselves at the moment. Zargon is a world populated by the motliest assortment of people Lambert's seen in the Carnival's travels thus far. Currently, he's blue-furred, a foot higher, and twice the bulk.

His voice, however, hasn't changed one jot, and if Foster's listening for it, he'll be able to pick out that distinct whine even over the bustle of the athlete's village, towards the booths that offer excursion trips out to Zargon.

Scout | OTA

[stillwinningthehardway]

Scout is having some difficulties. She's met Duinuogwuin - one of the illustrious race had made Padawan when she was a young apprentice - and knows about their history where she's from, but being one is not easy. If she'd thought about participating in any of the competitions that's pretty well out.

INSIDE:

Maybe as you emerge into a hallway on or off world you see, stretching out in either direction, a heavily armored segmented body with many legs clacking along, trying to keep to a straight line but likely drifting or veering off and on. Maybe one of the times the dragon train drifts it runs over your feet, or kicks you, or in its sway goes and presses or pins you against a wall or archway or kiosk for a moment. That armoring doesn't look or feel like chitin, despite the buggy look. It's almost metallic and a few degrees cooler than the surroundings.

Somewhere up ahead a harried-sounding Scout says "Sorry! Ugh."

OUTSIDE:

Star Dragons can spend months in vacuum, or in most environments with non-breathable atmosphere. They have internal organs that knot spacetime and mimic the function of repulsorlift engines, allowing them to move freely against gravity at will, meaning they can fly despite the fact that by normal biological laws that shouldn't be possible. They are rumored to be able to set off cold fusion in their bodies.

Scout resents that she gets the unwieldy over-thirty-feet-long form but not the ridiculous mysterious functions that Duinuogwuin never like to tell people much about. Still, she can maneuver outside of the domes in just a breathing mask, and is actually able to see herself and move more freely in a great flowing pouring forwards motion, over red soil and up rocky reaches when most people are confined to cumbersome suits. Of course, this probably also means she gets to repair buildings and generators from the outside.

INSIDE

[alphudo]

Yuusei, admittedly, is pretty damn poor at getting to know other people. Generally distant as a whole, it usually takes a whole lot of nudging and prompting from others to get him to talk to unfamiliar individuals outside of some sort of dire situation. As a result, he doesn't really know anyone else on the repair crew yet despite being coworkers. He wouldn't be able to recognise anyone by appearance yet save for vague familiarity followed by a lot of squinting on his part.

He doesn't respond much to his radio either, but he can still hear people talking over the frequency for those supervised by the Engineer, so he's surprisingly quick to recognise Scout's voice despite never really having seen her before. Plus, he gets the feeling that the other dragon-looking thing stumbling around in the hallway is in a similar boat as himself.

A foot comes down on one of his own, and around the same time, one of his larger arms steps on one of Scout's many legs, resulting in a half-hissed "Sorry there...!" But it also gets him to look up and stop a minute to keep himself from staggering further from overcorrection. "These bodies are pretty rough, huh?" He may as well attempt to greet a fellow repair worker. It seems only polite.

Reira Akaba | OTA

[soft_focus]

PERFORMANCE WEEK

[soft_focus]

[CARNIVAL COOKHOUSE | EARLY PERFORMANCE WEEK]

[After they returned from Wismuth, there were a few things to be sorted out. Among those things, were the last of what was supposed to be dished out from Acquisitions-in this case, a few of what had been requested by one was supposed to go to her, and so on, so on...

And over all that was why instead of going directly to the training grounds after lunch, Reira instead pulled out what looked to be a set of books. Extremely mundane books.

They're science text books (grade 2), and she's reading them with what can only be a look of absolute wonder as she reads about one thing and then looks slowly takes a sip of whatever juice she got today, peering out the entrance at the aliens and their tech.

She's learning things, guys. ('PEEP!' says the Sparrow on her head, while the daemon squirrel sitting there frowns)]

[Step Right Up, GO FOR GOLD]

Umnhhh... [She isn't 100% sure about this, but she absolutely wants to try. Reira doesn't quite look herself now that she's out on the space ship. She originally came out because she was going to take some pictures of things, but once she found out they had cards, one thing led to another, and then she found herself here. It's not EXACTLY the same of course, but catching the differences was as easy as breathing-it's why, after a short mental prod from what currently looks like a tiny ghost white tentacle creature upon her head, she can be seen filling out an important form at the sign-ups desk.

The green woman handling these seems unsure on if she should wish the kid luck or simply melt.

As it is-once the form is handed in, Reira isn't too far from there. There's lots of cards to look over, and she's going to look over as many as she can, if she wants to stand a chance at 'Space Mule Donsters'.]

...Maybe I can add that one... [Those are training only Reira, you're stuck with what you've got.]

[You'll be LIGHT AS A FEATHER! | SPACE TRAINING ROOM]

[One of the plus sides to this being a meeting place full of Aliens is that there's a lot of weirder, almost magic ones she can talk to...as much as they shake their heads and mutter something about 'children' if she gets a bit too focused on the Magic bit. She sought out the ones who seem best able to do what she's after, however. Or at least...as close as they can get. 'How do you lighten yourself', 'How do you just become gas', and so on, so on-the seeming troll asks many questions of many different species, and eventually she can be found holding a number of the feathers Foster gave her for 'exercise', practicing.] Mnhhh...

Hhnnnnn...

[What she's practicing is...the bigger question, though occasionally she will-eyes still closed-try jumping a bit before frowning once she lands.] Mnh. Not there yet, [She mutters, staring at the feathers and trying to focus again.]

[LATE PERFORMANCE WEEK | READY FOR THE ANIMAL TALK?]

[The menagerie does, on occasion hold shows, and as an employee in animal care Reira is far from exempt from helping to set up for it. She's currently making sure various creatures in their temporary pens are comfortable and ready-it won't be until she hears footsteps however, or someone is close, that she turns.] Umnh...

[She seems a touch worried. Also, she's trying not to get the bits of feather that have started coming off her arms, stuck in something's mouth.] ...We're not starting for another hour... [she starts hesitantly.]

[WILDCARD - Got something else in mind? Plot something with me? Just give me a shout! Or tag. That too.]

GONGENZAKA | OTA

[betheman]

PERFORMANCE WEEK

[betheman]

[CARNIVAL ROUTINE TIME | Day 31]

[It is a relief to have Sans back, suffice to say. Having passed on any information that needed passing on, he could finally relax. Or at least, go back to his ordinary routine, rather than doing what (he felt was, anyway) necessarily needed to be done in the absence of the Warden. So with that in mind, the morning of the 31st sees Gongenzaka on his typical run. Added practice in certain magics, continued practice in forms of motion, and- ...And then doing his morning stretches reveals...an odd thing.] Mnh- ...MNN! WHAT!?

[Specifically, when he tries to stretch a bit farther than he normally would, he just. Keeps going.]

Oh...quite a range, ah...see if you can reach all the way around? [murmurs a now intrigued daemon at the side. The cheetah watches as Gongenzaka immediately rights himself in terms of 'position', growing quite red-faced.]

NNGH! NO!!

[IN SPACE | ...NO ONE KNOWS WHAT YOU'VE SIGNED UP FOR]

[With the form he has, he's surprised he's taken to running and jumping so easily again. He supposes perhaps it's because of his time in Atlantis-back when he had shrimp legs, and then some. Regardless, his seemingly faceless form doesn't mean he can't see, and his roboticized shouts echo in the air when he determinedly clears another jump.] HAAAAUUH! Hmn!! With some of this, I, the man Gongenzaka, should almost think we need to improve our own training lot... [He notes, crossing his arms thoughtfully.

His daemon-not too far away, but just far enough, merely shakes her head, before focusing on the sign-ups table.] Mmmm, yes, this one too... [She notes, glancing to the side occasionally. Maybe you're closer to Gon. Maybe you're closer to Marishi. But-]

Yes?

Hmm? Is there something you need, perhaps?

[WE'RE EXPERIENCING SOME TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES (IN SPACE)]

MHHNN!! AUUH-! [When the gravity fails, it's a bit of a mess...for everyone, really.] Nh-

Floor, floor..! [Gongenzaka manages to adhere rather quickly back. Thanks to some energy walking, it's easy enough to get himself righted again. Everyone else however...well.

He trots along, occasionally grabbing someone to help them down to something they can hold for support.] Kh...just what on earth is it that they have not been replacing..? This is the second time already!

[MEANWHILE, IN THE CARNIVAL | PATROL TIME]

[Patrol is never entirely easy, when you are dealing with those of unique cultures, and now there are about 1000 if not more visiting all at once. To say that Gongenzaka is a little harried as he explains to someone that they are not providing housing, and that food is still being provided on the ship, is getting intense. He's visibly exhausted, and his vines actually droop somewhat as he moves.

It may, in fact, be time to tell him to turn in for the night...but then again maybe he could just use some help with whatever giant alien is causing hassle this time.

It's hard to tell how temporary the exhaustion is, really.]

[WILDCARD - Got something else in mind? Plot something with me? Just give me a shout! Or tag. Because Tagging is Caring.]

Cole | closed & open

[hurtcomfort]

for solas, the carnival
Some time when Solas is in the medical tent and nobody else is, Cole shows up. He's oddly apprehensive about something as he wrings his hands. Another odd feature is that Cole's hands are bandaged. He hesitates near Solas for a moment or two before outright asking,

"Can you help me at the space station after you help me here?"

It's a straight up assumption that Solas would help Cole in the first place but the elf always helped Cole out before. Why would now be different? Besides, Solas was smart. Solas could figure out why Cole's hands were weird and, when he turned into that odd robot thing, Solas could help him up stairs.

for shima, space station
Giant bug, meet weird saltshaker robot thing. Being a creepy mind-reading spirit means that Cole's able to find Shima fairly easily. What he's going to do after that...well, that's still up in the air. But Childermass wants him to help, so Cole is going to help.

"Hello!" he says, as he wheels over to Shima. The voice coming from the odd robot thing is Cole's normal voice, with with a robotic sounding filter over it. "I'm Cole. And you're Shima." And now...what? Childermass said to help him out Shima and get him accustomed to thievery but there's a big obvious problem here and that problem is Cole doesn't have hands. "I don't know what to do next," he admits.

open prompt, space station
Daleks were not designed for many things. As such, there are plenty of moments throughout the event where Cole just stops moving and looks at whatever's in front of him, obviously waiting for someone to help. He pauses and blocks the way in front of multiple staircases, the one door on the spaceship that has a doorknob, in front of a dropped stuffed Space Teddy Bear, things like that. Considering the fact that he doesn't have arms or legs, Cole has adopted the strategy of 'be in people's way until he gets help.'

[worldlyafflictions]

Luckily for Cole, Shima seems to have an excess of limbs, enough to make up for how many Cole lacks. Unfortunately for them both, Shima is busy whimpering in distress every time he remembers he's a giant wiggly caterpillar. And he happens to remember that every time he has to move more than a foot or so because he can feel his body doing that awful, gross, inching, undulating motion that caterpillars do and it FREAKS HIM OUT OKAY, THIS IS THE WORST!!

"Why do we hafta do thissss aaah ha ha I'm dying..."

9S | OTA

[dressedtothe]

9S hates all of this. Aside from being surrounded by aliens -- something that fills him with wariness and disgust -- the greatest insult is being transformed into the body of some kind of alien biomachine. While he's still mostly mechanical and mostly looks like the human creators he was modelled after -- it feels different, wrong, even Pod 153 has commented on it -- a pair of white, cat-like ears protrude from his skull and a long, fluffy cat tail pokes out from the seat of his pants.

The only thing placating him right now is the technology -- even if it is alien -- out on display or for purchase. Or just plain being given away, in some cases.

9S is wearing a dark grey T-shirt featuring this year's Space Olympics mascot, Johan the Athletic Porg, forced on him after a gigantic alien accidentally ruined the shirt he was wearing by leaking corrosive liquid from their body onto him. 9S was fine but his old shirt... was not.

He can be found kicking around a hacky sack that occasionally seems to spontaneously change direction... potentially into you. Alternatively, he can be found eyeing sign ups for Space Pod Racing as an Independent Athlete. The flying vehicles are different to what he's used to, but how hard can it be, really?

As usual, his tactical support unit hovers around his shoulder.

[OOC: If it isn't apparent already, 9S is a huge alien racist and not about to change his views on it any time soon. If you'd rather not deal with that, let me know and I can try steering the conversation away from it! I can be contacted at jesii for plotting etc.!]

[chronosynthesis]

"Oh--9S," Syrlya raises his hand high to draw attention to himself as he tries to get through to the other Nightrunner while he checks out some of the technology for sale. Although, initially, Syrlya probably isn't very familiar at all--his facial structure is similar, but his body is shaped with more curve and breasts, his skin is some shade of purple and made of flesh, and... well, it's hard to tell what exactly the short tendrils sweeping back on his head are, but they seem to be of the same flesh.

He's figured out by this point that he's something called Asari, and also not terribly like he normally looks. So, when he approaches, he immediately clarifies that. "It's Syrlya. What have you found?"

Renzou Shima | OTA

[worldlyafflictions]

SPACE BUGS DON'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!!

[worldlyafflictions]

Despite the craziness that had gone down in Wismuth, Shima had a pretty cool time there before everything had gone south. Wandering around shopping and sight-seeing was a lot of fun! Surely his first non-Earth stop would have plenty of cool stuff to see as well, including whatever disguise he'd be using to blend in... right?

Anyone who happens to be near the gate between the Carnival and Zargon when Shima first steps out will hear an absolutely horrified scream as he figures out what exactly his disguise will be for this stop.

Syrlya | OTA

[chronosynthesis]

[Syrlya, like anyone else, forcibly finds his entire form changed as soon as he steps outside of carnival grounds. It's tangible in a way that previous glamours in Greysol and Wismuth weren't, save for maybe their sudden development of daemons. He feels it much more deeply than a trick of other's senses--which is disconcerting. Especially when he feels flesh.

Around the Olympics, he's disguised under for the form of an Asari--still ostensibly human shaped with skin that's tinged much more purple, brushed-back tendril... things, that are either part of his skull or some replacement of hair (whatever they are, they are stiffly in place), he doesn't really know--and a 'female' form.

Of course, his mild discomfort isn't going to prevent him from doing his job... or apparently getting involved in the activities of their current stop.]

[Space Fencing]

[Which is why he's at one of the practice arenas a blunt-tipped rapier in one hand and a thin book in the other, scrutinizing it. He had only been pursing the information for 'Space Fencing' at first, but after the mocking jeers of a couple of the existing participants he found himself signing up out of pure spite.

So now he has a couple weeks to learn all the precise rules of fencing, because apparently 'hit until the supposedly fatal blow' isn't enough.]

[Carnival: Doing His (Other) Job]

[Of course, it's performance week which means not only is Syrlya supposed to assess Zargon for information and dangers: he's a bouncer, means to keep certain attractions well guarded.

This time, he's stationed by the Ferris Wheel. For most of the visiting civilians, the carnival is a quick side trip between the games. The athletes are more frequent, but there's definitely families who came for the Olympics taking a quick detour to the carnival for their loud, excitable children.

Children Syrlya has to keep pushing away from the Ferris Wheel.] You cannot climb up there, you'll be squished! Where are you parents?

[At least once, he has to outright grab one that proved significantly heavier than expected, grunting as he lowers them from the base of the wheel.]

[Wildcard]

[For all other shenanigans. \o/]

[espigeon]

Aww.

[Here, Julien's secondary, human-shaped body is up and birdlike again, about five feet tall when his neck is raised. He turns towards Syrlya with a hopeful tilt to his head, completely unaware that this is another Carnival member.]

'Scuse me, miss? Would you happen to know where that one really colorful legerboard got to, for uh current events and where contestants are placing? Last I saw someone was trying to repair it and there's drag marks on the floor...

[He trails off, glancing at said drag marks.]

I mean, there are others, that one was just the best. I really shoulda taken a picture while it was here.

Lambert | OTA | i'll match format!

[whattaprick]

The moment he touches down on Zargon, Lambert can feel it -- the yank of magic reshaping his body, stretching his form into something ... different. As an unfortunate side consequence, his clothes also no longer fit, but a quick requisition of a new uniform from the Space Olympics commission fixes that quickly enough. For most of the Olympics, he's trailed by a curious-looking little creature which bobs along sighing at him.

1. let's get physical

There's a lot to do on Zargon and the Olympic Spaceship, and Lambert for one is set on trying as many of them as possible. He's not hard to find testing unfamiliar weapons on the training equipment, launching himself of platforms, engaging in space log rolling, and pretty much almost whatever sport there is on offer.

Just about the only sports he's avoiding is anything to do with ice and snow. That much, at least, hasn't changed. Regardless of his changed form, his voice is recognizable enough whether he's facing off against someone else in competition, finding themselves paired together in some team-based sport, or even simply stepping into the same gravity-optional arena, and his greeting will be the same:

"You ready for this?" The glint of his teeth is sharp. Surprising absolutely no one, the witcher's wretchedly competitive.

2. you'll need an iron stomach

But for all that he throws himself into the sports activity around the place, what he ends up signing up for is pretty different. Partly because it sounded like a bizarre concept, partly because he was promised alcoholic drinks would be involved at some point.

They'd told him the athlete's village would give the opportunity to practice for the competition, kitchens equipped to produce the food they'd actually be eating. Lambert hadn't though you'd need to practice eating, but free food sounded like a good idea. Unfortunately, Lambert's also discovered that the Space Olympics have a bit of a different idea of what constitutes 'food'

So during meals, he's in the mess hall, gingerly using a fork to gingerly prod at whatever monstrosity is on his plate at the moment. Otherwise, he can be spotted queuing up for the emergency clinic, arguing with one of the official medics while clutching at his stomach.

3. wildcard
Bring your own starter! Prompts that deal with the more breakdown/repair side of things and whatever else will be added later.

2!

[kingsroads]

It's been a few days since their conversation with Childermass: enough time, in Strange's mind, for Lambert to cool his head somewhat. He's not actively seeking Lambert out but as Strange catches a glimpse of Celandine's magic in the mess hall, he quickly decides that he might as well go bother him. At the very least, Lambert would probably appreciate someone to complain at.

Strange is a bit of a shrimpier cat than Lambert as he's retained his same height and has a much more lithe build. He's also somewhat retained his same hair, though two gray cat ears poke out of it. His whole body's covered in gray fur, he's got a cute little cat snout, and his gray tail lashes from side to side. Strange is also wearing space olympic training clothes because buttons are dumb when you have paws. Yoga pants and a sleeveless top it is.

As he walks over towards Lambert, Strange rudely yanks off a tentacle of whatever Lambert's prodding at. Popping it into his mouth, he chews, swallows, and grimaces. "Urgh, it's rubbery. And oddly leafy for...well, whatever this is."

Tanyuu Karibusa | OTA

[fourthscribe]

Crash Course

Honestly, Tanyuu isn't sure why she hadn't come forward about this before. Maybe it was just that she already had her hands full with makeup duties, or she'd been hoping that maybe some of the new tailors would stick around for longer. Nui returning had been a welcome blessing, but after Gold disappeared she'd put her metaphorical foot down and asked Carly to train her in the basics. Having spent as much time as she had in the costuming tent already, most of what she had to catch up on was the fiddlier techniques and the finer points of taking measurements, but it's at least enough that Carly herself isn't forced to spend extra hours just cutting cloth for new outfits.

Sewing, however, is proving to be a unique challenge--or at least, operating the machine is. No matter how long she's been here, Tanyuu continues to be somewhat baffled by anything more advanced than a rotary phone, and there are really just too many settings and fiddly bits to deal with. She's in the middle of attempting to change out the thread spools when she hears someone enter the tent, and smiles with only a faint trace of haggared frustration.

"Did you need help with something?"

Like a Fish to Water

Of all the aliens she could have been changed to...the small pack of trolls, all connected in some way, was rather amusing to Tanyuu, but she had been surprised to realize the aquatic nature of her...caste, she's fairly sure that's how Psi has called it before. Something of that drive to do had lingered from her time as a Harbinger, but her species gave her a unique opportunity here to actually compete--and in something she wasn't completely out of her depth in.

(It was only afterward that she realized Space Caligraphy was apparently a sport as well, but she'd already signed up for her event and turning her skills there into a competition feels...wrong, somehow.)

The pool is warmer than the lake, but not quite as balmy as she remembers Atlantis being. But the temperature isn't much of an issue, and once she had been provided with an apropriately cut swimming suit Tanyuu had taken to doing laps. Getting used to moving through the water with legs was the main difficulty, but even the tiny bits of webbing she has is more than enough to match her speed in her true form. She's rather focused on her laps at the moment, but it wouldn't take much to catch her attention.

Fishy Fishy

[soft_focus]

Reira hasn't heard any tales of trolls, nor has she really seen enough to think anything more than 'oh, this is similar' with regard to her current complexion. The horns and skin tone and hair all combined certainly give cause to think of Psii, absolutely, but...well, that's about all she knows. That she looks 'sort of' like Psii.

So it is not 'caste' or even the gills at her ears that have brought her to the pool right now-where she, in her rather appropriately pink and black swimsuit, is currently slowwwwwly making her way in at the steps before her daemon appears to join her.

Rather, she's there because of how Strange explained the 'almost wind' feeling. The 'in between', the best way to get the Feeling of not really...being substantial. Something about floating in water and not actually touching anything. Of course, she's never actually swum before, so she's not really sure how she'll manage this...and, well. Neither is her daemon, which at the moment is a small dolphinsized thing coloured all white, and trying really hard to keep her absolutely above the water.

Hmm.

Ginko | OTA

[dontpokethat]

A - Spaceship

This whole Space Olympics thing is… not really for Ginko, honestly. He’s used to doing physically taxing work, and some of these games seem interesting, but he’s about as competitive as a wet paper bag.

So, rather than even thinking about competing, he’s opted to wander around the ship, seeing what he can. ...And trying not to let his disguise make him miss Psi too much.

Any carnival workers training for a competition may see a familiar-looking jade-blooded troll sitting off by the sidelines of the practice area to watch, because apparently he’s got nothing better to do.

Or, more accurately, he figures that if he wastes some time over here, people are less likely to accuse him of focusing too much on his work.

B - Zargon

You know what’s way more Ginko’s thing than sports? Alien planets full of unfamiliar forms of life. Which is why, after losing interest in the goings-on in the spaceship, Ginko goes to spend some of his free time on Zargon itself. He takes all the warnings of how dangerous it is into account, of course, but that’s not nearly enough to actually stop him from going there. He’s a professional, it’ll be fine.

...Really, though, he does have some idea of how to handle dangerous wildlife, which is why he is not actually going near, for example, the enormous crab picking at some similarly-huge mushrooms. He’s crouched a significant distance away instead, taking a couple pictures with a little camera (after some fumbling, admittedly) and jotting down notes in turn.

C - Wildcard

(( OOC: hit me up at omixgirl10 if you want to work something else out! ))

B

[prazerbutterfly]

Seeing as Tyki could normally survive a vacuum full of pressure and a lack of air, he doesn't necessarily need anything to go outside. Not to mention he wasn't sure his current body could support anything like a suit and most people here seemed content on giving him exactly what he wanted regardless of what he wanted. He knows little about the bad reputation the species he's representing has but he's liking the treatment and the fear that comes with it.

It's taken a day or so to adjust walking with such long and pointed legs. Now with rougher terrain it was further practice in navigating around grooves and sharp bumps.

But oh look. It's Ginko he's approaching now out admits the wildlife and he really should say something but he's interested in what he's doing. It shows with the was his lumbering body quietly navigates him towards him or the way his regularly body from the waist up hunches over to take a look at his notes from over his shoulder. At least he doesn't have multiple eyes or claws. He's just over 9ft tall.

Miko Nakadai | OTA

[pullingamiko]

A - Training (Space Rock Climbing)

As much as she’d like to try everything, if Miko can only compete in one sport it had better be one she’s good at. So here she is.

Her new size does make things a little more challenging… as does being made of metal. But she can work around that, and get used to it, and frankly? She absolutely cannot be annoyed about being a Cybertronian. Even if she can’t transform, this is still the coolest shit.

In the meantime, though, here she is, losing her grip a significant distance up on the rock wall. She lets out a startled squeak and manages to push off with her foot, minimizing damage to herself (or, more likely, the wall). Maybe managing to make that small save also helps minimize her embarrassment when she tumbles to the fortunately-padded floor.

On the bright side, Miko doesn’t have much of a sense of shame anyway. She bounces up almost immediately, grinning. “Sweet! I think I’m getting better with being--” Wait no, disguises. “--on this wall. The wall, not like, my feet being metal or anything, they were always like that.”

Nailed it.

B - Wildcard

(( OOC: hit me up at omixgirl10 if you want to work something else out! ))

[bananaspeedrider]

Well here's one reptilian alien that's already in on trying to remain discreet among the rest of the space athletes. This glamour feels a lot more real than any other appearance magic that the Ringmaster's cast on them and it's... well... strange of course. He pads in just a bit uneasily on his anatomically alarming lower limbs.

"I'd say so! Maybe if you had something to get more grip against the rock, you'd get all the way to the top easy!" he says while stepping in somewhat uneasily on an anatomically unusual pair of legs.

The familiar voice doesn't quite hiss in the way stereotypical snake-like creatures do, but certain sounds do hang in the air a bit longer than the others. And on sight, his voice isn't the only thing that would instantly clue someone in as to who this must be.

childermass, ota

[atouts]

a bit of a budget snafu (in spaaaace)

The Space Olympics managed to hold Childermass's attention for all of two events before he more or less fucked off to Zargon to take some notes, make a few sketches, and be generally annoyed when some of the local alien wildlife ate his pen. Worse, he isn't particularly fond of his current glamour, since it made trying to chase down and retrieve said pen generally impossible. Why? Well, primarily because he's a three-foot tall bird thing with awkward feet all of the sudden, doubly awkward in a spacesuit.

So, he's back up on the space station now and staying there. Once performance week has ended and they turn to the carnival for a spot of help, he'll inevitably find himself helping coordinate the efforts... mostly since it gives him access to the space station's supplies. Anyway, looking for something? Have an issue to report? Curious what a space-age "help desk" looks like? Well there's an eternally uninterested Birdermass sitting at it fiddling with some high tech inventory tablet, though he does look up when approached.

"Yes?"

For some reason, the alien bird has eyebrows, so yeah, he'll raise one when asking that.

a bit of a budget snafu x2, but on the radio this time

"The gravity is off in the Equestrian arena," Childermass's somewhat now higher pitched gravelly voice crackles across the radios of those helping the Space Olympics out. "Again."

That's right. For the second time.

"They're asking for a hand or five to rein in floating animals."

[prazerbutterfly]

The first time the gravity turned off it was hilarious. He had watched with some satisfaction as handlers struggled to rein the unfortunate animals of all shapes and sizes. That is until it turned into work and performance week died off leaving him with spare time on his hands. He was finding the nature of the con to be a little troublesome as with his species he was representing, Driders, came with a rather bad reputation. Most he approached either made some excuse as why they had to leave or just generally stepped away quickly to avoid him. It took a lot more calming effort to even talk to someone.

He hears the crackle of the radio and answers but not with his voice. He replies by simply turning it off and making his way there with his jagged and pointed legs carrying him across distances in equally long strides. It's not that he was avoiding anyone in particular. Tyki was just not actively seeking anyone out or making himself available. Those that usually found him stalking or lurking may notice at some point the amount at which Tyki wasn't present.

At a staggering 9ft in height, he reaches the area and snorts at the panicking animals, "You'd think they'd start tying some of you bastards down."

Hinawa | OTA

[sunflowerfields]

A: The trouble with tentacles

Hinawa now has appendages to spare, as well as more eyes than she'd like. This, as she realizes far too late, is much like the time she woke up underwater and had gills and no legs. Unfortunately, there's no water here, and it turns out having no bones is a lot harder to deal with on dry land. For a while she sort of flops around, tentacles sticking to things she doesn't want them to stick to. Including you, possibly.

"Oh... this is really embarrassing... I'm sorry?" Only one of her eye stalks appears to be focused on you.

B: America's Zargon's Test Kitchen

Soon enough, though, Hinawa gets the hang of having Too Many Limbs. Turns out, it's actually pretty useful! She can be seen hauling bags of groceries to the carnival, but eventually one of the events catches her eye: a cooking competition! Hinawa's not very competitive, but she does like the look of that kitchen...

Pretty soon she's making eight dishes at once, chopping vegetables with one set of tentacles, flipping pancakes with another set, and piping icing on a cake with yet another. She has a three course meal ready in a quarter of the time.

C: We are (not) the champions

Well, Hinawa hadn't gone into the competition looking to win, so she's not sour about it. And she still got a prize! Which... she has no idea what to do with. It looks a little too much like the tools the Matrix agents had for her liking, too, so maybe she'll just find someone else who wants it.

"It makes the oddest sound when you pull the trigger, see?" She demonstrates, and the toy gun makes a noise that is indisputably pew pew pew.

a

[pipers_son]

Some days, you never realize how lucky you are until one of your coworkers is a blob of tentacles and you still have all your proper limbs in order. Sure, Joker is what he can now recognize as an Alternian troll, but the only issues he's had have been... Well, he's managed.

Unlike this poor soul is doing. Leaning over to blink at the tentacle attached to his leg, he pauses when he hears that voice. "Hinawa?"

Alphys | OTA

[textsfromhotland]

A: [porg screaming intensifies]

Well, okay, this time Alphys is going to be prepared for any glamor effects she gets once she steps into this new world. At least, that's what she tells herself as she walks through the portal, because she was at least expecting to remain the same height, or something close to it. She feels a sudden lurch as if she's toppling over, but she catches herself just in time. Or does she? The ground is awfully close and... everyone is suddenly much bigger than she is...

Alphys looks down at herself. And she doesn't have to look very far, because she is, in fact, very small. And feathery. And bears a striking resemblance to Johan the Athletic Porg.

"O-oh my god..." She squeaks, just as a huge alien foot slams right down next to her. "Aaah!"

Immediately going into panic mode, Alphys skitters in and out of the crowds, being far too small for most of them to notice her. "Heeeeeelp!"

B: I think I'll try defying gravity... wait no this is a bad idea abort abort

Alphys gets budget constraints, she really does. She worked in academics, for crying out loud. Still, the random gravity drops are not good for her heart. Just when she manages to climb up on something, she's suddenly vaulted into the air, floated away from her new perch, and dropped unceremoniously back on the ground again.

No, she hasn't figured out that porgs can fly.

As she floats helplessly in the air during yet another gravity outage, she starts to think that she deserves a medal for still being alive at this point. If she floats by a familiar face, she'll flap her tiny wings to try and get their attention.

"Uh, h-hey, when the gravity comes back on, c-could you just... put me up on that counter? That'd be g-great, thanks."

insert Wicked joke here

[hurtcomfort]

Cole also floats helplessly in the air. The problem here is that he's currently a Dalek, a metal machine that looks like a salt shaker. He's just as useless as Porg-Alphys is. And, as she flaps her wings, Cole moves his head, staring at Alphys with his robotic eyestalk.

"I don't have hands," he points out, in a voice that's unmistakably Cole's despite the robotic filter. He uselessly floats over towards Alphys. He obviously can't do much on his own: this is just Cole going wherever gravity takes him. But yep, he doesn't have hands. One 'arm' is oddly egg whisk and one 'arm' is oddly plunger shaped.

June | OTA

[milkruns]

a. i have no mouth, and i must lose my shit
June is well aware by now that the way people change in the Carnival happens to everyone eventually, including her, and there's very little about that that's reassuring, but she's been mentally preparing herself for it. She'll be ready for it, somehow. She's got time, probably.

She has absolutely no time to get ready for this one, because once she's on the Olympic spaceship, she is no longer even remotely human. Well, the top half of her is almost human, but the lower half is a lot more deerlike, like some kind of weird blue alien centaur, and now she's got a blade-tipped tail and...an extra set of eyes on stalks? And they move all on their own, allowing her three-hundred-and-sixty-degree vision, and this is...extremely weird and disorienting. Maybe disorienting is the wrong word, because June is absolutely freaking the fuck out.

Except she can't really scream, because Andalites have no mouths, so instead her panic comes out in thought-speak, broadcasting telepathically to anyone in range while she frantically touches her face, looking for a mouth and trying to find a reflective surface to look into.

<Oh, god, what happened? What is this? Why don't I have a mouth?>

She feels like somehow this would be way less weird if she still had a mouth.

b. budget, shmudget
The budget snafu is extremely not encouraging, and it's making June kind of regret coming to Space Olympics in the first place. She'd told herself that this was definitely a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and if she was going to be in the carnival then she might at least maybe try to make the best out of it.

Now, as the anti-gravity finally switches back on after ten minutes, and her Andalite body crashes to the floor in a skitter of hooves, this does not really feel like the best of anything.

<I'd like to speak to whoever's in charge here.> Her thought-speak voice is just shy of I'd like to speak to your manager, although if she actually could identify anyone who worked here, she might actually have demanded just that. <Please tell me someone is working on fixing this.>

If your character is a little injured or banged up in the gravity bouncy house that the Olympic spaceship has become, then June can probably help, although she's still a little awkward in the Andalite body. There are so many limbs. And so many fingers.

c. zargon-o-vision
Okay, so the Olympic spaceship is a semi-bust, but maybe visiting the planet is a better idea. Spacesuit tours! It's kind of terrifying, but if her son could traverse an alien planet more or less on his own, then why can't she? They even have spacesuits that fit her weird new Andalite body, and though June doesn't really want to admit it, she doesn't want Miko to think she is entirely incapable of being cool or fun. She can totally be cool and/or fun.

And the tour is actually pretty incredible! What a gorgeous, if bizarre, planet. If she ever actually tells Jack about any of this, this would be a high point to mention. She's actually enjoying herself, right up until the part where they run into one of those pockets of hallucinogenic gas.

Well, she might keep enjoying herself after that, but is a space acid trip ever a good trip?

WILDCARD
[ feel free to hit me up at runawayballista for plotting! ]

[espigeon]

"June? That's you? Aww, hey, it's all right. It's me. It's Julien."

A sort of shining owl-peacock-emu surrounded with a speckling of hovering eyes approaches her carefully, four lightly-clawed hands out. Even with his visibly long neck up, he's half a head shorter than her Andalite form; whatever this alien is, it's petite. He does still sound like Julien, though.

He'd kind of like to take her hand, or offer to do so anyway, but for one he's not sure which of his hands to use, and for two he doesn't want to get kicked or... whatevered by that suspiciously dangerous-looking tail.

Peridot | OTA

[periphrasing]

A. BIG McLARGEHUGE

So gems have this thing about respecting the form you are created in. As in, it's really, REALLY important that you do that, and if you change your form needlessly, it's basically a big fuck you to the Diamond who ordered your creation. Unless of course you were born a defect, and then it's just your own damn fault for being that way and you should be ashamed to exist.

Peridot used to tout this rhetoric the same as any other Homeworld gem. But after spending a significant period of time on Earth, and now having spent a couple years at the carnival... She barely bats an eye at most of the form changes she goes through from stop to stop, unless they happen to be incredibly inconvenient or humiliating. Otherwise she knows that the shift is generally just a temporary thing, and with her normal form as altered by fae magic as it is anyway, the weird is basically the new-ish normal for her.

All that said... This is marks the first time that she has been actively excited about an involuntary form change. And that is because, as Peridot steps through into the Space Olympic Station, she emerges thick, powerful, and almost twice her normal height. In other words... She emerges Krogan.

She spends her first few hours on the station just walking around in a state of incredulous joy, looking for things to punch and/or kick down. If you happen to be larger than she would be at her normal size, she will probably demand that you stop what you're doing and let her lift you over her head.

B. SLAB SQUAT-THRUST

With the initial adjustment out of the way, Peridot has moved on from demanding to bench-press her fellow carnival workers, to challenging random people to competition. If you happen to be partaking in practice for any kind of strength based sport, the Engineer may just be lurking around nearby, waiting and watching for the right moment to come up and say: "Hah! Good effort, but why don't you stand aside and let ME demonstrate my newfound strength and superiority in--" Pause. "...What is this 'sport' that you're playing called again?"

C. Budget SNAFU a.k.a. This isn't fun anymore

The charm of being in a body this huge and thick wears off pretty fast when Peridot suddenly finds herself needing to perform the actual job she was made for. Three fingered hands and a big meaty hump aren't really conducive to engineering work that requires one to crawl into all kinds of tiny spaces and fidget with sensitive machinery. Who knew?!

Well. Too bad, because she's the Engineer, she has a job to do, and this space station is basically just falling to goddamn pieces. Anyone who calls in for a repair over the radio will get a prompt response from Peridot as always, but when she actually shows up to address the issue in person... Normally, you'd get a small angry gem. But thanks to the magic of the Space Olympics, you get a large angry krogan instead!

"Alright, show me where the problem is," she growls, eyes narrowed. God help you if the device you're asking about is something that's going to require her to crawl inside of to fix.

A

[drrdrrdrr]

"Uhh, you sure you can manage it, Per?" grins Amethyst, who is currently, a car? You can't actually see her grinning, and in terms of actual facial features, the head she has tucked away somewhere in the recesses of her machinery is probably not physically emoting, which is a ghastly thought we will try not to dwell on -- but she definitely sounds amused.

Closed to Steven

[drrdrrdrr]

"Hey Steven!" Amethyst immediately follows this up with two loud honks of her horn. She is currently, a car? And not a futuristic alien car, just a regular car the likes of which one might expect to find on Earth, painted purple. It honestly feels a bit weird to her because she doesn't have, like, a face on the front? She's used to occupying strange and diverse shapes, but pretty much invariably she still has a face. She can see anyway, somehow, which is something she's trying not to really think about.

"Steven!" She flashes her headlights. "Hey! You wanna go for a ride?"

Rita Mordio | OTA, will match formats

[anti_nonsense]

[a: casualties of the robot wars]

Among the training areas on the Olympic spaceship, there's what appears to be a large workshop used for preparing (and repairing) robots used in robo-sports. At one of the work tables, Rita can be found, though only her voice, stature, and the choker on her neck are recognizable; her body is entirely that of a faceless plasma-being.

"Poor Hecate... what did they do to you?" she laments, sounding genuinely sorrowful at her robot's recent defeat. On the table in front of her is a small circular robot with wheels on its top and bottom, a blade circling its entire body, and a whole lot of puncture marks, scorch marks, and a particularly ugly rift in its outer shell, where it appears to have exploded from within.

Rita seems to be performing an autopsy of sorts as she uses her tools to pry away the damaged outer shell, observing the internal damage. "Just as I thought." Though her face makes no expression, she hangs her head in regret. "I'm sorry... I should've made you better."

[b: cultural exchange?]

Somewhere in the athlete's village, Rita finds herself approached by a similar-looking plasma alien. This one's body glows blue, has a vaguely masculine shape, and wears what appears to be a cowboy hat.

"Well, I'll be!" he exclaims, his tone friendly enough to convey a smile, though he lacks a face with which to make such an expression. "I haven't seen one of my kind 'round these parts in a long while! How 'bout you and me mosey on down to that there saloon and have ourselves a few drinks?"

"Sounds awful. I'll pass," Rita answers him bluntly, not even looking to see the bar he just indicated.

The blue plasma-cowboy doesn't seem offended at her refusal... but he doesn't seem to get the message, either. He laughs. "Yeah, I know, most of the booze here is much too weak for folk like us! But I have it on good authority that this barkeep has some of the good stuff on hand. C'mon, what do you say?"

Help her...? Or do you try to get in on this 'good stuff'?

[c: wildcard!]

You know the drill! Rita's alien description and plotting comment is here for reference. She may be found elbow-deep in a control panel as she helps out with some repairs around the spaceship, staring at some questionable-looking snacks at a concession stand, or trying her hand at one of the various strategy games, target sports, or motorcycle races. Or feel free to reply with your own starter!

cultural exchange!

[kingsroads]

Just as Rita read Strange's book, so Strange has read a draft of Rita's book...and then proceeded to cover the damn thing in sticky notes because she said don't write in the margins, he's not writing in the margins. It's easy enough to break and enter and leave the annotated draft on her bed, but the sensible part of Strange is pointing out that he should at least find Rita and tell her about her book.

A quick cheating by scrying tells him what Rita looks like and vaguely where she is. Unfortunately, there's some time in between scrying and actually finding Rita for that blue plasma-cowboy person to start up a conversation. And rudely, Strange just buts his way into said conversation, walking up to give both Rita and the blue alien a little nod.

"My friend's one of those temperance people, I'm afraid." Do Novakids know about the temperance movement? Hell if Strange knows. But it's a halfway decent excuse even if he feels a little scummy about blatantly lying. His cat tail swishes back and forth as he continues to talk, "But I know I'd love to join you later at that saloon—which one was it, again?"

Herbert West | ota

[scientificist]

Space Medical Team Infiltrator
The Space Olympics is a dangerous place with all of the various shortcomings due to the budget issues, and therefore some of the money was required to go towards a fairly decent medical team. Of course, another issue is the amount of amateurs from the Carnival who are participating in various events. Injuries of some sort are almost guaranteed!

And so, on the surface to improve safety and do his job (and more subtly to do some xenobiological research) Herbert has insinuated his way onto the medical team. Although it might not even be particularly clear it's Herbert, as at the moment he's a three foot tall dun skimmer avian wearing a sort of draping labcoat thing over an avian style interpretation of his usual suit, collar buttoned up the entire neck and a short black scarf instead of his thin tie where his long neck meets his body. (Thankfully he hasn't run into any skimmers at this event yet, as his head is scandalously bare, with only the metal line of his glasses looping over his dark grey feathered head.) His teeth shoes have thankfully turned into little shiny boots on his avian feet so he can continue to avoid eating this whole event.

On the other hand, Herbert might not recognise your character either depending on how changed they've been. When they enter, he attempts to roll up his sleeves, realises he doesn't have sleeves and he's trying to roll up his arm feathers, and makes a very bird-y tch! noise. When he speaks, he at least sounds like himself, or at least a hollow parrot-voiced version of himself.

"How...are you feeling, what have you been sent here about?" He's really making an effort at good patient interaction, especially now he knows not to automatically assume what the injury is on aliens.


A Bit of a Surgeon Snafu
Those who for whatever reason decided to go watch Herbert's inadvertent foray into competition in Space Surgery (the budget meaning that everyone working for the Space Olympics has to compete at some point for TV ratings [Space Sweeping being perhaps the most desperate]) were treated to some of Herbert's typical mayhem. His patient died on the table--due to being a completely new species Herbert had yet to encounter--so Herbert used his reagent. The resulting angry, raised patient attacked a completely different competing doctor, which Herbert tried to mitigate by using his reagent yet again...and in the end there are at least five corpses angrily throwing things around as the vast majority of the arena flees in terror.

Herbert, meanwhile, has flown up to hide in the support beams, away from the stampede, anxiously awaiting the arrival of someone else to fix this. He probably shouldn't have rolled a nat 1.


Thanks, Alien Physiology. (Thysiology.)
One thing Herbert absolutely hadn't counted on was the avian ability to filter drugs from their system in a startlingly short amount of time. Therefore, especially after the excitement of the Space Surgery competition but also because he was politely expelled from that particular medical team's ranks and now has very little to do, he's been folding sleepily to the ground in various areas of the Olympic Spaceship.

It's been years since he's really known how to deal with sleep like a normal person, so he ends up in nearly a bit of a tired fugue state, wandering around and bumping into people and eventually ending up collapsed on the side of a slightly lesser used hallway with one wing splayed out sideways and his chin resting on someone's discarded poorly constructed porg plushie. Wake him up, ignore him, step on him, the possibilities are endless!

Space Medical Team Infiltrator

[prazerbutterfly]

Something large, staggering at 9ft tall, is coming Herbert's way as his long legs carry him forward with a precise tap of every point hitting the metal floor. On a moment's notice he could make his steps quiet but he found announcing his presence gave people and aliens alike less of a scare. It didn't stop anyone from getting out of his way instantly given the bad reputation of the species he was representing. He was finding fear and intimidating was working better as a con than friendly repetition. Everyone saw him as a predator anyways.

Of course, that leads to the reason he's here. Even without speaking Herbert will notice a strange hint of blue blood slathered down three of his legs. It's not his own but it leads down to a larger gash along those three legs, a reddish purple blood seeping around cuts and gashes that is his own. Bites of glass and sharp metal protrude through it. Normally he would pull it out himself but he's not allowed back into any event without visiting the medical team and at least getting it looked over, patched up, and released back with with a note he was fit to perform. Not to mention he didn't really know the anatomy of this body was well as he would like. He'd rather not bleed or rip something he shouldn't. He won't need much for Space Poker later but he had a lot of aggression to vent currently.

"I shoved someone through one of the glass arenas and have injured myself in the process," he begins with a low tone and a slight head tilt in Herbert's direction. The voice is off and he's not sure if it is him but he may as well be honest, "I require medical attention and a note that permits me to perform."

[reflash]

cute and fluffy

Yukio exits the Carnival and finds himself incredibly disoriented. The glamor at the last stop was nothing like this. Everything looks so much bigger than it should, and his vision swims as he tries to take stock of his new form. The colors are different from what he expected, and he doesn't have any idea what the blade on his tail is for, and he's too small. He flexes his clawed hands (paws?) and takes a hesitant step forward, trying to figure out how his body moves. Walking is awkward, and it only takes him a few steps before he hesitantly goes down on all fours and scrambles forward. That's better, if completely undignified.

Performance Week

Yukio is in the med tent this week, as usual. Though he is there less than he has been, because everything's... getting closer to being as organized as he would like it to be. That doesn't mean Yukio's nowhere to be found. He's spending some time out under his glamor, adjusting himself to using a gun in his small alien form, and then actually competing (and winning himself a bronze medal for his efforts).

After the medal ceremony, Yukio splits his time between the medical tent and intense archery and throwing-knife practice in the training grounds, with less-than-healthy amounts of time spent sleeping in his trailer.

Cute and fluffy

[chronosynthesis]

There's another problem with crawling on all fours besides the lack of dignity of it: it makes Yukio even harder for people to see in his current state. That includes Syrlya, still tall as a purplish Asari, and certainly not looking down as he steps right into Yukio's path.

Hopefully his reflexes are still good, before he gets tripped over or, worse, stepped on.

shura | ota

[exaomori]

a

In some ways, Shura's fortunate. Her glamoured disguise leaves her in a humanoid shape, so she doesn't have to learn an entirely new way of getting around. On the other hand, she's not really fond of being in any form but her own, so she won't be sticking around Zargon for long. Or, at least, she didn't plan on sticking around for long. Before she can successfully make a break for it, there's someone shoving a bunch of crap merchandise in her arms and tell her to move the stuff to Arena B.

"Oi--wait! I ain't a worker here!"

Maybe if they realize how much she complains they won't make her work?? But alas, the guy's already moving on to assign duties to the next poor fool.

b

Shura hadn't signed up for the intergalactic version of Wipeout, but apparently taking advantage of the FREE BEVERAGES sign was the same thing as volunteering for the event, and she finds her intoxicated ass being forcefully escorted to the starting line.

In spite of the the fact that she's way past her usual levels of inebriation and the fact that she quite frankly does not care about winning a medal here in outer space, Shura's doing pretty well for herself. Maybe it's luck, maybe she watched too much Takeshi's Castle or something, maybe she doesn't want to get trampled by the Rhino Alien coming up behind her, but whatever the reason, she's keeping with the head of the pack. At least until that very last obstacle, a slippery cliff that probably requires a few more limbs to climb. She tries once, twice, and on that third time she finally just gives up. Screw it. It's so not worth it. She doesn't want a medal, medals are stupid. She'll just... lay there for the rest of the race. That's the best option, obviously.

In the end, surviving the Space Drunken Obstacle Course™ was the easy part. The hard part is getting back to the carnival. Drunker than an intergalactic space skunk and trying to make her way through a open corridor with the artificial gravity on the fritz, she's having a little bit of difficulty. Even when the little gravity situation is solved, she's still limping and stumbling around on her own two feet.
help her please

b!

[hurtcomfort]

Shura needs help. Cole's got this. Unfortunately, Cole looks like a Dalek and can't really do much to offer a hand for Shura. Still, he's a big metal...thing? Anyway, he's large and he's stable and has a silly little plunger arm for her to grab onto.

They'll just figure out the rest later.

Cole whirs up to Shura, stopping behind her as she limps and stumbles and flops around. "Take my arm," he says. There's a bit of a robotic filter to Cole's voice but the intent sounds genuine enough. "I can't do much but I want to help. It'll steady you."