Favour The Road, Travel In Style

((Connecting from The Pioneer by Proxy...))


The Netsquare, probably the most tangible representation of international cooperation in existence, literally connecting the whole world together. The center of this paradoxically circular area is dominated by a large, animated statue of two slowly shaking hands, levitating over a revolving representation of the globe. Surrounding the monument bustles a bewildering assortment of stalls, booths, garages and storage facilities, the representation of humanity's need to cash in on "international trust". As the centre of online commerce, this digital marketplace is a world unto itself. Navis make their lives, livings and homes in this bazaar of worldwide information. Among the thrall of shoppers, a shadowy figure, covered head to toe in dark material, strides through the rag-tag streets. The tall traveler's steps alternate between a sharp Chink! and a blunt Doonk. It makes it's way out of the marketplace, stepping onto a coloured floor portal emblazoned with the sign "YOKA!".


((Connecting to Madness, Minus the Madness...))
((Connecting from Madness, Minus The Madness......))

There was a commotion in the Netsquare. Crowds of navis milled around in packs, panicked, uncertain, curious. Mobile vendors flitted between them, taking the opportunity to divulge riches from their customer's agitated state. A line of NetPolice officers snaked along the crowds, blocking public access to the center of the circular Netsquare. They battled against angry shopkeepers and merchants who wanted back into their stores and homes. Heated arguments coloured the frightened atmosphere with pockmarks of chaos. Turmoil had ensnared the population of the Netsquare, and from where Fissure was standing, it was easy to see why.

"Well. This wasn't here the last time I came through."[b][/b], he said thoughtfully, a sly grin playing across his face. "I must say, it adds a touch of elegance to the place."[b][/b]

About half a mile away, an enormous, dark, iron tower sprouted from the ground like an angry flower. Its obsidian exterior was covered in a rash of menacing spikes, each looking sharp enough to cut through Metoolian. Large, animated gargoyle heads dotted the terrifying structure, dribbling a thick, green slime from their hideously sneering mouths, and occasionally apitting the goo onto the crowds. The ground at its base was covered in the rubble of its previous occupant: the globe with the shaking hands. The sphere had cracked on impact with the ground, shards of it materializing in and out of existence as the program that governed it tried to piece together what just happened.

The small group of cloaked individuals behind Fissure waited patiently for their temporary master. The screen displaying the slightly sweating face of Jim burst from out of the air.

<<There are news reports all over the internet about this... thing.>> he said, worried not about what dangers the tower posed, but at the amount of attention it was receiving. <<We'd better be moving along. There are more than NetPolice coming to take a look.>>

With a sigh that resembled a pane of breaking glass, Fissure turned from the spectacle and headed towards the Netopian portal which, thankfully, happened to be operating amidst the chaos...

((Connecting to The Jury of Slaves......))