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 Krishga lets out a relieved sigh, smiles and gently pats FLEA’s chassis. She realizes what she has done, hesitates, but then decides to also pat briefly TICK, albeit more self conscious than before. “That was maybe a bit too much, what with me talking a mile a minute, huh?” She considers the two drones for a few moments, wondering how much they truly understand - how much they are capable of understanding - or if she is right now doing the equivalent of talking to an attentive pet dog. “Well.” Again she smiles, and her voice is warm. “How about this for now? If things ever get too dangerous or scary for you, you tell me, huh? And… you’ve been a big help. Thanks, you two.” The Goblin nods and lets her legs dangle from the box she is sitting on, trying to hear whether Branwen’s meeting with Lahire in the nearby room has concluded. Her mind goes through an itemized list of things she might try to accomplish while she has to wait - and then, suddenly, she slaps her forehead with the palm of her head. “Why didn’t I think of it in the first place? It’s so obvious! Ah, Krishga, Krishga, getting distracted, and missing the cave for the rock…” She peers up at Jaroth, a wide grin on her face. “You can do that… thing where everything can understand you, right? Well, everything or everyone that theoretically can understand someone, I assume you can’t talk to rocks, or, hm, can you talk to rocks? Normal rocks, not magic rocks, of course.” Krishga quickly shakes her head. “What I am saying is this: Can you tell these two floating rascals what I just told them? Just want to make sure it's not a language problem, I’m kind of… treating people right, regardless if they’re created or not, is important to me. Or, well, maybe it’s just that not being assholes to artificial people is not very important to a lot of folk.” Krishga shrugs. “Ah!” She raises a finger into the air. “And there is one other thing you could help me with after that, using your, I will not lie, quite amazing things you can do. Handsome and useful, you don’t find that every... anyway.” She rolls over onto her belly and rummages through her backpack she had put down against the box she is sitting on. The inventor pushes her hand past the rolled up fabric of the Minimus - the suit’s helmet, boots and gloves attached to the outside of the backpack - and, after a few moments, pulls out something wrapped in several pieces of cloth. Krishga unwraps it, revealing something that looks like a fist-sized crystal with rectangular metal veins running through it. “When we - the others and me, before you joined up - were making our way underwater, we encountered some rather unfriendly warmachines, elven make, presumably. Part of Warwick’s forces, or lent to her by the Dominion, well, kind of not entirely clear yet. But! This little piece of salvage was part of a…hm… floating claw robot. Didn’t seem as smart as their leader, but smart enough.” She inclines her head and gazes at the crystal. “I have been analyzing it as best as I can, and I think I could build some amazing things with it, but… As far as I can tell, this is what drove that claw robot. It’s… thought shard, if you want to call it that.” Krishga puts the thought shard into her lap, cradled in a nest made out of the pieces of cloth. She puts her hands together in front of her mouth. “I’d like to know if it is alive. If it does think. Because if it is, I’m not gonna build a translator or guidance system out of it. That’d be a hosed up thing to do, huh? So… After you’ve talked with TICK and FLEA, could you try talking to it, and we can see if it reacts?”
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Feb 8, 2024 20:14
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 Jaroth agrees to let his comrades go, Kalkydra's moods were quite mercurial and it would probably do her good to get some fresh air - birds (angelic or not) do not fare well in confined quarters. ----- "Anything can understand me, even the natural world itself. It stands to reason that synthetic beings even ones with a relatively simple or alien mindset can understand." explains Jaroth, his tone even and collected, akin to someone explaining some kind of academic principle under similar circumstances. The angel then cleared his throat and repeated what Krishga had said to FLEA and TICK, giving them ample time to give some measure of recognition or response. While they waited, Jaroth followed up by responding to the second point that Krishga had brought up. "Do you have any means to detect whether or not this 'thought shard' can respond to you if it is quizzed? The weakness of my.... ability is that I cannot necessarily understand or even perceive any response - if possible - from anyone that I communicate with, I could whisper secrets to the earth itself or scream dire threats at the skies or such but unless I am able to interpret signs from them or if they are incapable of response then I would be unable to know how they feel about that. Because by default, I would not assume that a crystal shot through with wires to be able to by itself signal anything." After he spoke, Jaroth took a moment to gaze deeply into the crystal to see if the 'thought shard' had any obviously moving parts or any sort of inner radiance that would imply capacity to give an outwardly visible signal or response or similar, Jaroth's expression quizzical as his golden eyes looked intensely at it, his now-inhuman nature radiant within this otherwise (relatively) gloomy chamber.
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Feb 9, 2024 01:00
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“Hm! Hmm-hm.” Krishga nods along with Jaroth’s explanation, her hand on her chin. “Interesting. Fascinating. Now, when you say that ‘anything’ can understand you, do you mean all things that have the capacity to understand in some way in the first place, or really anything? If we stick with my example of talking to a non-magical rock, that’d mean the rock would need to have some mind to be able to understand which would, well, have some major philosophical implications.” She gesticulates with her hands. “Or is it more like talking with some associated elemental earth spirit in that case, not the specific rock? And, and, hm, this is not meant to rile you up or offend you, but if you can’t understand them in some cases, how do you know that they can understand you?” The Goblin briefly looks at the metal ceiling, trying to figure it out in her head. “Ah - are there maybe other types of people that understand everything and you usually work together?” Krishga contemplates her own questions, not truly expecting Jaroth to have an answer just yet. WHen he holds out his hand to inspect the thought shard, the Goblin carefully hands it over, then muses on what Jaroth had asked of her. “Well. Good question. I could… hm. Ah! Of course!” She slaps her hands together, at the last moment reducing the force of the slap so as to not startle anyone and perhaps make Jaroth drop the extremely precious salvage. “So, my current theory is that this-” She points a finger gun at the thought shard.”-this… how are you doing that with your eyes? Is that normal? Probably, huh? Where was I? Right. Theory is that the thought shard is, in fact, a thought shard, meaning that it processes information from outside - input - gives commands to the outside - output - and does not fulfill its functions on its own, meaning it tells the claw robot where to move, what to say, how to interpret what it sees and such. And that means it has some sort of interface - ah, that’s a relatively new term, engineering and electronics stuff, probably not what a more traditional magi-engineer would call it - anyway, an interface, meaning some sort of way to interact with the other parts of the war machine.” Krishga leans back, hands on the back of her head. “I think I can reproduce at least some part of the interface - I took some pictures of the remains of some of the claw robots, took some readings.” “But!” She gets up on her box, starts to pace up and down on it, excited, then quickly stops as she almost falls off her all-too small podium. “That is only the beginning, the means I can use to solve our problem and, if it turns out that the thought shard is not, well, alive, to build something useful as well. I plan to use the shard to make a prototype version of a translator which, at a minimum, should hopefully allow me to at least understand and speak Elvish…” She rolls her eyes, and continues in a lower voice. “...and finally put away that godsdamned phrase book.” Krishga clears her throat. “So, the question is, is the thought shard able to do this? I think it might. If you’re an ancient elven creator of war machines, what do you want your automated soldiers to be able to do? Take your orders, meaning understand elvish, and perhaps also be able to give rudimentary reports, ‘village secured’, ‘lower life forms subdued’ and such. Maybe they were even made to be able to communicate with non-elven races, like us. Of course, that assumes all the communication between elven superiors and claw robots wasn’t done via command units like 1001, but, well… one of the claw robots certainly said something before it tried to kill us. Or made weird noises.” The tinker throws up her arms, as if to reveal her latest invention. “I will build a revolutionary device to input language into the thought shard and a way to output language in turn - if it can understand you, it will be able to answer us, if it cannot understand us, doesn’t have a mind to understand, I will have created another marvel of engineering.” She holds her arms out for a little longer, then drops them, and continues more calmly. “And I’ll be able to understand all these talks with ancient elite elven pilots. Am I the only one who doesn’t speak Elvish?” She shakes her head. “Really should have stuck to my lessons…” Krishga looks up at Jaroth, a gleam in her eyes. “So, what do you say? I wouldn’t mind some help with my little project too. Since it concerns language and understanding of it, I bet you’d have some valuable insights. And besides, my other favorite assistant is currently not available, not that I think you won’t do just as well.” She grins.
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Feb 10, 2024 18:51
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Jaroth considers Krishga proposal, although he does respond to an initial point before providing a response to the latter, as he mulls it over some more. "Truthfully, the nature of my ability means that I can 'talk to' all things, the natural world itself included. This is not strictly speaking talking to some kind of underlying spirit, although I could do that as well and that would more than likely be a more fruitful attempt. All things, even the most mundane and otherwise inanimate have a consciousness of sorts, it is merely a matter of perspective. You might not initially recognise this nor would I expect you to do so. All things have a name, and the..." at this point he stops and gazes... 'skyward', before continuing "...heavens, the Broken Domain, whatever you call it, threads all things together based on their name - for it is from there that they acquired their name. This name gives them an underlying character, and this is why I believe my 'words' work the way they do - they command the world. The reaction that you have seen is merely them following this command." Jaroth pauses before responding to Krishga's proposal, finally. "But enough about... cosmology, it's unlikely to be a fruitful avenue from which to walk when it comes to your proposal. I will try to help you in your endeavour, it might be interesting. Although noted, you will likely have to take the lead - matters of more... mundane mechanics are much more your forté." is what Jaroth says, his gaze turning back towards the 'thought shard' as he considered its nature some more.
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Feb 12, 2024 20:52
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 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 3 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Mostly brought him up to speed with everything that happened with being sent to XK-Masada, the bunker in the dead zone, the Abyss Wyrm’s brood underground, the many drylanders, and one Triton who got abducted and transformed against their will, the raw mana and god flowing through the entire area, Warwick’s involvement with the Elves, everything. It’s a lot, lot more than I expected and I gotta wonder if things have shifted back on the surface. “I did convince the Drylanders down below to speak with us. With everything they have down there we might be able to convince the Surface to leave the Ocean alone and not have to worry about another war breaking out. Also a favor to “Tear ‘em to Pieces’ Gogolia to get him back to his Great Clan.”
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Feb 25, 2024 11:57
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 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 [ ]|| COU +2 [ ]|| GRA -1 [ ]|| SEN +0 [ ]|| WIS +2 [ ] Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] Gear: Armor[X] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] || Power[X][X] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Branwen squints at Lahire, mouth slightly open as she scrutinizes him. "...You're serious?" She glances back at the bloody mess and back to Lahire. "That was..." Branwen shakes her head trying find words other than 'supposed to spook you' before finally saying "...pretty inauspicious." Finally she stands up and gives Lahire a look in the eyes, trying and failing to read anything off him. "Alright, I don't particularly want to know what humdinger of a scheme you have cooking that will require you to apologize to someone, but I have a sinking suspicion it involves me and the others. And I would like to impress, very clearly and directly, that if I have to find out that I am involved and wholly unaware, I will be extremely upset. And I will make that your problem." Bran pauses to let Lahire mull that over for a moment before pushing forward with "So with that in mind, is there something I should know about?" Xom posted:Branwen McAlister(ArkInBlack) Request: [2d6] Roll: [5, 1] Result: 6 Reason: Look Closely At Lahire
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Mar 6, 2024 16:21
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Branwen "Inauspicious is up to the individual." Lahire rubs his chin, the other hand resting on his hip. He flicks his eyes up to you, his dark brown eyes again incongruous against his apparent youth. "Whether it will involve you? That depends on you. It absolutely is a humdinger of a scheme, but don't forget you volunteered for this. Of course people are going to involve and use you. You have world leaders coming here to talk to you, ask what you know and what you think should be done. They are going to do their utmost to make sure what you do aligns with what they want." He takes his hand from his chin and gestures broadly before him. "If you want to get angry about being used and want to make it someone's problem, I'm happy to wait in line behind Durell, Rulakir, the League council as a whole, and probably your church. I, at least, am not going to try to dictate to you. I'm content to ride along in your wake." He isn't angry or even annoyed. He simply speaks bluntly, with a touch of faint amusement. The air around you feels suddenly hot and heavy, like a crushing Blutfeucht summer afternoon where there's nothing to do but sleep through the worst of it. "I wish I could tell you more or explain what I'm about, but I can't. For my own safety." His expression and tone seems genuine. "The bold and direct approach failed me once to catastrophic results. I prefer to be more circumspect these days." He waves this last comment off with a seemingly dismissive wave and shy smirk. If you didn't know better, you'd think he enjoys playing up the mystery. He begins to walk towards the exit, expertly avoiding the spilled entrails as he goes. He turns back to you and gives you the finger guns. "Good luck. Hey, I'll buy you a drink next time." He hops out of the room and saunters off, whistling The Winds of Elsu; a traditional song dating back to the first elven war. Analogous to Yankee Doodle in certain other realities. When you yourself leave, you see Bunyan duck his head into the hatch. "It's time." Konas Makaias is openly flabbergasted by the time you finish giving your report. As you describe your encounters and battles, he glances now and again to Olan who confirms all that you say. "To think, an entire city of Wyrms hiding beneath the earth. And a machine army! I am sorry to have missed that battle." He 'stands', indicating by body language that the meeting is over. "I have much to consider. But it seems the tides are in our favor - this city and its secrets could prove invaluable." He grasps your forearm in a Roman handshake and locks eyes with you, offering a firm nod. "You've done well, Keaweth. Be careful of further success or you'll find yourself head of your own great clan someday. I wouldn't wish that burden on my worst enemy." He turns to Olan and offers his respects, adding "You've found a reliable one here. Try and keep him alive." before swimming towards the entrance up into the base proper. "There's a meeting shortly. I'm sitting in as a representative, and there will be many important members of this "Interior League". Remember. We are in alliance with them, but we do not serve them. As far as I'm concerned this current Aqualantis debacle is a problem that finally solved itself. Wherever it went, let it stay there." His disdain for drylanders is obvious, though it doesn't seem to be outright hatred. Makaias takes his leave, pausing as Gogolia passes him as he and Zibal come back inside. "Huh! That truly is the shield of Ariinuis! Sir, I am Makaias. I am truly sorry for any offense I might have given for asking you to leave. You have my word that I will aid you to the best of my ability - I understand you wish to contact family?" His voice fades as he and Gogolia leave together, talking. Zibal flashes a toothy grin and you and Olan. "Not sitting in meeting. Dry. Boring. Rather fish!" With that, she zips past you quick as a whip and disappears into the outside ocean exit. Not long after, a liason arrives and bids you accompany him to the meeting. Olan strides beside you ask you are guided through the corridors, people stepping aside as you go. Jaroth and Krishga FLEA and TICK beep agreeably and flit about here and there while you two discuss the thought shard. Unfortunately due to the incredible level of drunkeness achieved during the creation of the drones, what insight was garnered on elven technology is lost to a back out haze. Jaroth's concern is also a legitimate concern. The shard lacks any obvious means of communication of any sort. Some sort of terminal could be set up - at which point it becomes an issue of figuring out what sort of inputs are viable. Computing is still a very primitive science on Slan, and coding as a skill is still in its infancy. A genius like Krishga could no doubt work through it, but not at a remotely convenient time scale. Lucky you have a seemingly agreeable elven pilot that might just know a thing or two about how these ancient weapons work. This is a viable project, but it will have to to begin until you finish upgrading the Maximus. As you wrap up your discussion, you see Lahire saunter out of the room whistling a tune. He offers a casual wave to everyone and ducks out of the hatch. A few minutes later an ESCO trooper pokes his head in through the hatch. You recognize that bearded, weather worn face as that ESCO trooper that escorted you here last night, Bunyan. "It's time." he says in a gruff voice. As you follow the trooper, you hear from behind you. "Hey, so." You hear Alhena clear her throat awkwardly. "Meshaia wants to ask. "Am I on the team too?" I guess I have the same question. I'd like to see where this is all going."
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Mar 22, 2024 02:43
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Krishga’s hand is almost a blur as she sketches some manner of device in her notebook, adding copious tiny notes and formulae next to the device’s many individual parts. “Hm!” She studies the result and then furrows her brow. “I think… this is going to be a bit more complicated than I thought a minute ago.” She shrugs exaggeratedly with her hands held out at her side, and grins at Jaroth. “I guess it’s my enthusiasm - and my genius - getting the better of me, huh? But, well, I’m still a proper engineer, and this needs to be done properly, and, hm, this thought shard is ancient, far from understood, highly advanced and! And potentially sapient technology, so, I should just poke it with an electrified prod like some first-year tinker, huh? Maybe that elven pilot might be able to help - though if he'd want to, that's the question...” “And, well, there’s the language barrier, as you mentioned.” The Goblin grins at Jaroth. “Mechanical matters are indeed my forté and, with you as my assistant, why, the sky’s the limit.” She sweeps her arm around and points towards the sky that no doubt is somewhere beyond the dreary metal ceiling of the XK-Masada. “But…” She closes her notebook and puts it back into its pocket. “...I’m afraid it’ll have to wait for a bit. There’s that big meeting that’ll happen soon and I’ve got big things planned for the Maximus too, you know? Ah, if only I had as much time as I have ideas.” She stands up on the box she was sitting on, stretches, and gently punches Jaroth’s shoulder. “Say what you will about this whole adventure, the near-death experiences and all, but at least for me, the whole thing has been inspirational. Lots of plans and ideas coming to me.” “Ah..” She puts her hands on her hips and addresses everyone in the small room, a smile on her face. “So, FLEA, TICK, guess you’re still with us for now, huh? How about we see what’s in store for us next, huh? Like I said, things'll be dangerous, but I’ll fix you up if you get some scratches.” She turns towards Jaroth and continues, quieter. “Thanks for helping me out with those two and the whole thoughtshard thing. Mostly those two for now. I’m glad that at least they understand me - via you.” Krishga lowers her head, thoughtful for a moment. “There’s been several times during this whole journey where not being able to understand each other was a problem…” “Well!” She slaps Jaroth’s shoulder. “Won’t be as much of a problem with you around! Even though we haven’t solved this problem…” She holds up the thought shard. “...just yet, I think we make a fine team, huh?” quote:Trying to Forge A Bond With Jaroth. Not long after, Krishga spots Lahire leaving the room he and Branwen disappeared into, and based on the man’s cheery demeanor, she might think that their meeting was far more friendly than it likely was. Bunyan announces that the bighat meeting is indeed about to begin. Krishga follows the ESCO trooper, waving at Branwen when she joins the entourage. As they make their way past countless hatches and security gates, Alhena addresses Krishga. The Goblin does not respond right away and instead falls back so that she walks beside Alhena, concentrating on keeping pace with many quick steps as she thinks. Krishga puts her hands behind her back and glances up at the transformed, flesh-warped woman. As she notices that she does not recoil, feels no revulsion anymore, and just sees Alhena, she smiles, happy at herself, and only then responds. “First thing I’d ask is if you want to be on the team. I told FLEA and TICK the same thing a little while ago: Things will keep being dangerous from here on out, I wager, and there’s no way to know what’ll happen. But… I think you’ve both already thought that through, huh? Besides, one of you is an ancient living star. So, putting that aside…” She punches her open palm and beams up at Alhena. “...you are on the team if I have anything to say about it, and I do! Now, listen, this bighat meeting we’re heading to, it’ll involve…” She waves her head around, her voice taking on a slightly disgusted tone. “...politics. Everyone in there is going to have their own plan, their own agenda. I could try to explain what I know, but a lot of it is probably going to be wrong and definitely incomplete - I may be a genius inventor, but figuring that kind of mess out is not my forté.” “Listen.” She nods. “We’re just going to walk in there, with confidence, like we’re supposed to be there. Because we are. You are, Alhena, and you too, Meshaia. You both have been affected by this mess and got bigger stakes in this than a lot of people in there, and, you have, can, and will actually do something about it. Alright?” She gives Alhena a thumbs up. “And if someone decides to give you grief about not belonging there, tell them that the Champion of The Goblin Poleis vouches for you two, using her quite vaguely-defined powers to…” Krishga clears her throat, then continues in a voice as if reciting a legal document. “...request the aid of unaffiliated polities, organizations, or individuals.” Krishga winks at Alhena. “First time us Goblins sent a champion to work with the tallfolk, at least, all official-like. I think the Council of Council and the High Council didn’t really agree enough to decide what the Champion - that's me - can and cannot do aside from some pretty vague rules and goals, which suits me just fine.” nil. fucked around with this message at 09:20 on Mar 29, 2024 |
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Mar 23, 2024 18:56
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Jaroth responds to Krishga's proposed camaraderie wit ha slight smile. "I dare say you might be correct.". ---- Once it becomes apparent that the meeting is impending, Jaroth falls quiet once more - his thoughts growing deeper again as he contemplates what might be said and what to be wary of at this meeting. Although he does not presently bear the banner of champion of any particular nation-state, his presence as a returnee from Aqualantis proper might well come up, not to mention the ascended nature of his fellows and he. As such he steadied his thoughts and attempted to better center himself such that he would be more unflappable in the face of potential adversity, as given what Krishga assessed, it would be a highly political environment that no doubt would involve various parties attempting to win over influence and resources, and whose motives are unlikely to be particularly transparent. However, his conscience was clear, and his motives known to himself, for what else was there? Freedom. Or was that it? As his thoughts drifted deeper and his body followed the group as if purely from instinct, he felt a brief flicker of visions, sights, sounds, smells, other such emanations arising from somewhere very distant and very different from here. Perhaps, in fact more than likely, temporally so. A large group, a council even, gathered around a vast table of shimmering moonsilver, its purity untarnished by even the contemplation of dimmer places. The council held many chairs, but of them seven were the grandest. The greatest keepers of the Broken Domain, and now its inheritors. This was the first major meeting to happen after the formation of the Broken Domain itself, there had been murmurings amidst all the choirs, the seraphim had grown disquieted, the dominions plans had started to fray despite all of their many many intricacies, even the principalities had become discordant in their own decisions. So it was decided that this meeting had to be called as to decide on a matter of great import. Perhaps the greatest since the initial chaos that followed the formation of the Broken Domain. What to do about the mortal world? Jaroth snapped out of it before anything else become clearer, the hazy visions fading already. He now kept a particular lookout for where his fellows were, for they did indeed say that they would meet him again this meeting, and Jaroth did not wish for any unexpected changes to occur that might jeopardize their meeting up once more, especially under these circumstances.
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Mar 28, 2024 23:35
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Everyone Maeve sees you off, assuring Anastasia that she'll watch Duchess while you're out. Your full entourage is Krishga, Jaroth, Branwen, Alhena, Sulhafah, and eventually Konas, Olan, and Bedrimulael and Sorvis-Kazbiel once they meet up with you on the way. Zagubal, Gogolia and Zibal begged off, the former two having little further interest in this particular matter and Zibal herself being wholly disinclined to spend hours sitting in a chair. Hilda, meanwhile, who knows where she's gotten off to when nobody was looking. Just before the meeting area proper, you are intercepted by Joanna who gleams and clacks entirely too much for any time before noon. With her is the elven prisoner Eos who seems no worse for wear. "Your 'friend' is feeling reticent today but maybe sitting in on things and seeing how we stand will change his mind. I hope so for his sake. Rulakir's patience is not idly tested." As you enter into the meeting room you see an entirely different atmosphere to the rest of the base. The metal deck plates and welded joints are replaced by luxurious deep blue carpeting and dark grey wooden baseboards. The walls are a smooth white plaster, with various paintings hung about artfully along each wall. They are done on the baroque style made popular since the advent of the sun gods - they have inspired not only technology but art as well. Modern Lashutans are notably fond of sun-themed frescoes. At the far end of the room is a marble fireplace, austere and precise. The flames within it flicker realistically, but the lack of ambient heat coming from that direction and a subtle wrongness suggests it is merely an illusion. In the center sits a finely carved conference table that matches the wooden moulding, with the emblem of the Interior League etched in gold in the center. Comfortable looking chairs are spaced evenly around, and a quick glance shows that nobody on your side has been snubbed. Similarly, glasses and pitchers of water are set out evenly for your convenience. A glance overhead reveals a cleverly painted illusion of a domed marble ceiling, making this room feel much larger than it really is. One side of the large table has already been occupied by an eclectic mix of people. Standing at the head of the table next to his chair is Commander Durell, who wishes you all a good morning as you take your seats. To his immediate right sits Lord Rulakir who nods to you all. Next sits a young woman wearing traditonal Blutfeucht garb marking her as a traditionalist witch. If she's not simply appropriating the garb, it;'s a sign that she is a capable mage, apothecary and midwife. Impressive credentials for as young as she seems. In her lap sits a fat, winged frog-like beast that she quietly dotes on. Next to her sits a Zamite paladin, made clear by her ceremonial garb and armor. Though not yet middle aged, her hair is prematurely grey and sun-bleached but nonetheless striking against her features. Like Rulakir, she sits at almost bored ease Next to the paladin is an utterly unremarkable middle aged man in a rumpled blue business suit like the world's most forgettable mayor. He's gently rounded as if from a seeming life of leisure, and his head is firmly planted into the palm of one hand as he gently snores away. Next to him is a large muscular triton, not too dissimilar in build to Konas. His chest is bare and it's obvious he likes showing off his tattoos and battle scars. And to the left of the triton sits what is easily the strangest person present: A massive eight foot tall serpent is coiled calmly, bearing seven individual hooded heads clad in sky blue scales. The torso trunk bears a great golden belt and immaculate white cloth pareo edged in gold. Each neck likewise bears a matching golden torc. Last seated at the table is a thin, stone faced man. His clothing is clearly religious attire, relating to Jaira if your recollection of common iconography is correct. A goblin in a dirty labcoat smeared in unidentifiable substances stands near a back corner by himself. For good reason, you soon realize, as the smell of body odor and chemical solvents teases at your nostrils. He stands with a stoop, and his greying black hair hangs greasy and lank from his balding pate. His skin is yellow-green, sallow and pocked. Though he can't be more than fifty poor hygiene has left him ragged even for a goblin, who famously do not age gracefully. He offers a thin, yellow-toothed smile with entirely too much tooth before immediately returning to staring off into the middle distance and muttering. You think you hear him say something about 'combat data' followed by some manic chuckling? Scientists. The only thing separating them from your typical raving magi is a pointy hat. Standing as far away from the goblin as possible while remaining unintrusive and doing his best to hide his disgust is an ESCO trooper with an armpatch signifying him as an administrative mage. He has a rolling cart full on binders, folders, documents, projector and a really poo poo job from the look of it. Once everyone has been seated, Durell clears his throat and speaks. "I have to admit. I've been looking for an excuse to use this room for a while. Too fancy for everyday work." Some polite laughs. "Most of you know me. My name is Gabriel Durell, executive officer of ESCO and commander of XK-Masada as we investigate the disappearance of Aqualantis. The purpose of this meeting is to lay out what we know and what we do next. I'll begin with introductions of the present League representatives." With a nod to Rulakir he begins. "Rulakir sa Riec, tyrant of Lashute." Other than an acknowledgement at his name and a glance along the table, Rulakir says nothing. For a man famously said to be undying due to his burning hatred of the Dominion, he is ever a cool and composed figure. Gesturing to the young woman in the robes and green mantle. "On behalf of Markgraf Ulrich of Blutfeucht, Lady Marjorie Nachtzehrer." Marjorie makes an arcane sign with her left hand, one of the publicly known Witch's Guild sigils meaning this place is secure. A relic from the early days of the unionization when the clampdowns from the mage consortiums were becoming actively bloody. A quick way to let other witches know if it was safe to speak openly that has since become a general greeting among will-weavers. As a mild curiosity, of the spellcasting traditions that rely on gesture, this particular gesture has no effect when infused with mana other than the glowing afterimage common to all infused somatic spell components. The fat little toad creature sitting in her lap yawns as it continues to eye the room belligerently. "Dame Ashmonrabti, in service to King Zam." The paladin stands, raising her arms palm outward towards you all. "My cohort has agreed that I shall speak in their stead, and know that we bear our Lord's full authority and backing in all decisions made here. Zam's blessings upon you all." She primly retakes her seat. The commander's eyes rest on the sleeping man for a moment before Ashmonrabti sticks an elbow into his ribs. As the man starts awake she looks away and innocently coughs into her hand. "Lester Pashi-Korzat, of the Most Resplendent Divine Eminence of the Thousandfold Visions Dreamt of Eternity." Durell speaks for him. The disdain in his voice when saying that entire name is palpable. The sleep man nods, yawning and blinking his way into consciousness. "Yuh, yuh, I'm-hwooooOOOO- here." He interrupts his own sentence for a another yawn. "Sorry. Didn't get much sleep last night, only sixteen hours. I really mean-" Another protracted yawn and a scratch of his chin, "-no disrespect." Everyone else at the table looks completely done with his poo poo. Korzati face a lot of prejudice, largely due to its reliance on abusing an underclass to permit the rich and well to-do to sleep their lives away in whatever fantastical lands their minds might wish to conjure. This is largely rumor and hearsay, mind you - travel into and out of Korzat is tightly restricted, and entrance to the inner city is only allowed on the authority of the god-king himself. Nobody invited within has ever deigned speak of it, and it remains a popular topic of debate to this day. "Makaias Dissima speaking for the Pearl Clan." The mer looks like a bit of a meathead but perhaps that's a hasty judgement. "Hail and well met." Makaias greets you all with a mellow tone. "Archive Savant to Akade, the Class of '73." The seven headed serpent dips its heads in curtsy. "The-e-e oligarchs-s-s dis-s-slike being dis-s-sturbed." hisses the center head. The Class of '73, as the name implies, is the graduating students of Akade Polytechnical Institute in the year NPE 73. An end of year project gone wrong resulted in most of those present at the graduation ceremony being killed, and the few survivors merged into a single being and bearing the form of a seven headed cobra. Persistent rumor suggests the experiment involved an unwise attempt to tap into Nashira's power surreptitiously, with predictable results. "Adelbert Telsen, paladin of Jaira speaking on behalf of the Lunar church" An older man, likely in his fifties raises his right hand to you all in greeting, his ring finger notably absent. "Lastly, Professor Slood Greznikrek, chief engineer here at XK-Masada and one of the top minds in modern teleportation technology and interdimensional theory." "Yes, yes, get on with it commander." Slood sneers and waves a hand dismissively. Durell glares at the goblin briefly before composing himself and turning to you all. "If you would introduce yourselves, and explain briefly what you saw and did at point Lem-7. For the record." He looks pointedly at a tape recorder sitting on the table, reels quietly turning. What do you do? Shardix fucked around with this message at 17:40 on Apr 3, 2024 |
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Apr 3, 2024 01:42
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When Krishga feels that the fellowship is about to reach their destination, she fetches a binder stuffed full with what seems like sheets of paper from her backpack, as well as a rectangular black box containing slides for a projector. She glances up at Jaroth and Branwen, winks, and shoots them one finger gun - causing her to almost loudly drop everything. After she has caught herself and taken a breath, she again winks at her two companions, this time without involving her hands. “I came prepared!” She nods, satisfied with herself and her level of preparation. “Oh, Jaroth, since you weren’t around for some of all this, I had some copies made for you, feel free to read through this if you don’t feel like interrupting the big hats to ask a question during the meeting, huh?” The Goblin hands the much taller man a stack of paper and photos, bound together with string. When she catches the Angel’s gaze, she quietly indicates a small, innocuous note sticking out from under a larger piece of paper. ‘Read it in secret’ she mouths without words, then indicates one of the ESCO troopers flanking the group with a meaningful look. The fellowship steps into the meeting room, far more upscale than anything Krishga has seen around the XK Masada - or all of her life before becoming the Goblin champion, for that matter. She inspects the thick carpets, the wooden boards, the plaster walls, the expensive looking paintings. She comes to a stop and puts her hands on her hips, feeling compelled to say something. “Huh! Must not get a lot of water damage here!” She blinks, realizing that there are already people assembled in the room - very important people - and that her remark may not have made the appropriate impression. Then, she decides that she does not care, shrugs, and looks for which of the unoccupied chairs around the large conference table might suit her best. She picks one and strides forth with confidence, briefly waving at Commander Durell on her way. The small Goblin starts to consider how to best climb the tallfolk-sized chair, then spots two people at the back corner that both catch her attention for different reasons. Krishga quickly makes her way over to them with small, yet quick steps, hurrying as everyone else behind her gets seated. As she gets closer, her cheery expression suddenly vanishes, and she quickly realizes it is because of the stench coming from who she has recognized as Slood Greznikrek, well known in certain circles for his contributions to teleportation technology both practical and theoretical. Krishga waves her hand in front of her nose and decides against offering to shake the man’s hand, deciding on a brief wave instead. “Hi, Krishga Tazz, Goblin inventor extraordinaire, read your paper on power transference calculations using the Bogtesh-Winder teleportation assumption. Fascinating, especially when using teleportation to explore unknown or remote regions without and power infrastructure!” She pinches her nose. “Like… well, you know.” She puts a finger over her lips, assuming hat a scientist of Slood’s reputation is well aware of the plans for an Orbitopolis. “Off for now, things to do, Mister Greznikrek. Maybe we talk later, huh? I think I’m holding up proceedings.” She chuckles, not that displeased at the idea. The Goblin turns around, heads for the one she has made out to be some sort of administrative clerk or, on closer inspection, an administrative mage. She hands the man the box of projector slides, briefly opening it and showing the labels she quickly scribbled onto them some time ago, during one of her few quiet moments.There is a quiet murmur of lowered voices, of clear water being poured into spotlessly clean glasses, of people settling into their chairs. Krishga climbs her chair with gusto, finding that someone has placed an adjustable Goblin booster seat on it while she was briefly away - a popular gadget for Goblin/tallfolk negotiations in environs built for those far taller than the smallfolk. She sits down and quickly pulls the crank up and down several times, slowly rising until she is finally at least somewhat eye-to-eye with the other people at the table, or at least can see over the edge of the table. “Right. I’m ready, I’m ready.” Krishga announces. Someone politely clears their throat, and Commander Durell quickly begins introducing all present. Krishga blinks several times, at first feeling overwhelmed by the cavalcade of important and strange personages that want to hear what she and the others have to say. Well…no, no. No need to be star struck. Definitely no need. Like I told Alhena, we just walk in with confidence, not like we belong here, but because we belong here. I’m Krishga Tazz and really, if you think about it, meeting some bighats like is nothing compared to what me and the others went through the last few days. And besides, if I need to impress someone, I always got my own big hat back in my backpack. Don’t want to pull it out just yet - just in case I need a trump card. And honestly, just because they’re important and powerful, they don’t deserve all my respect. Sometimes just the opposite. Like that Lester. If what they say is right about Korzati, then gently caress him. Rulakir? Hmm. We’ll see. DOn’t know about the others. Except for… ugghhh… Class of ‘73. Why…. why did it have to be snakes? Just… just don’t look at them, don’t think about them, and it’ll be fine. Uuuuugh. Someone should have warned me. Godsdamned writhing, multiple, slithering….. Ughh! Snakes! Krishga shakes and forces a pained-looking smile onto her face. Durell then asks the fellowship to introduce themselves and describe what they have learned so far. The Goblin leans forward, looking at her companions to her left and right to see if one of them is inclined to speak up first. “Well! Alright.” She claps her hands together. “I suppose it’s up to me then. I… am Krishga Tazz, Goblin inventor extraordinaire. Now!” The Goblin tents her fingers in front of her face. “As the good Commander asked for, I will try to be brief, but quite a few things happened. Well, feel free to ask questions… after the lecture. Uh, I mean after I finished. Force of habit, well, not really, I haven’t held lectures yet, attended many, but…” She clears her throat. “Alright. For the record.” Krishga takes a deep breath, then continues speaking, rapid fire. “We got to, ah, LEM-7 aboard the Maximus - she’s designed for deep-sea exploration and combat, among other things - and found a large metal structure there which seemed to be some sort of sunken ship. We investigated and were then attacked by our first ancient elven warmachina - slide 1 please - preliminary designation ‘Talos’. It did speak, but was unintelligible. Jaroth was not with us at that point, so we weren’t able to make ourselves understood.” An image of a Talos, taken from the video recordings made by the Maximus, is projected onto one of the white plaster walls. Krishga nods and then continues. “Inside the metal structure, we found a chasm and we, uh, investigated further.” She clears her throat. “We jumped down the chasm. Quite deep, quite dangerous, but I’ll skip over the details here. We arrived at a gigantic underwater cave - extremely gigantic - illuminated by what seemed like an artificial sun, but was in fact a sapient ‘living star’, Meshaia. More about that later. Oh, and the giant underwater cave had inverted gravity. We, uh…” She tries to illustrate being turned upside down with her hands. “...walked on the ceiling when we entered the cave, and it was as if the sun was above us, even though it was below us. Slide 2, please. Interesting possible applications if that kind of gravity manipulation can be reproduced, actually…” She waves her hand. “Anyway. We explored the giant cave further, avoided more warmachina, and found An’Ehon. Specifically, we found one of the towers we could see down there. The people of the tower were under siege by the warmachina. Let’s talk about the people and their…” Krishga raises an eyebrow and looks at all the League representatives in front of her - expect for the Class of ‘73. “...their independent settlement. The people living in the tower are the Shivans. They were all abducted by Abyss Wurms - no longer around now - and physically changed by them. My friend Alhena here is one of them. They are connected to the living and, quite important, thinking star Meshaia. Extremely powerful, apparently. Whiiiich…” Krishga brushes back her hair, briefly thumbing over the goggles resting on her forehead. “...brings us to the warmachina. There were several models - slide 3, then 4 please - and they were led by 1001, a sort of general. Slide 5, please. I tried negotiating with him but… well, I believe he was compelled by his programming to not disobey his orders. Which made things difficult.” “Alright!” Krishga punches a fist into an open palm. “You probably want to know why they were there. Easy. They wanted to either capture or subdue Meshaia, though it was never clear exactly why. Things were a bit too… aggressive to really get to the bottom of that mystery. We helped prepare the defenses together with the people of An’Ehon - slide 6, please - and tried to negotiate with the general, 1001. Which is where things get a little more interesting for all of you, I’d bet because - slide 7, please - one J.R. Warwick Froedriksson joined us for the talks. As an illusionary copy summoned by 1001, at least, but certainly the closest thing we’ve had to a face to face meeting. So, that pretty much proves that the warmachina army was under her control or, at least, was following her orders. She demanded Meshaia and…” Krishna's expression darkens for a moment. She takes a breath, closes her eyes, and only then continues. “...admitted to the murder of Tulgrom Lupp.” A moment passes. “Goblin academic. Wide variety of knowledge. Warwick said he had to… that he did not cooperate with her.” Krishga shakes her head, gathers herself, then shrugs. “Fight broke out. Us and the Shivans - and the Maximus - gave as good as we got, though… some of the Shivans didn’t make it.” She sighs, fully aware that the representatives listening likely do not care. “Things were looking up when we were attacked by a Fire Co-” The goblin coughs. “By a giant fiery minotaur. Who apparently is some sort of former Formavit named Estoladion?” She looks to her left and to her right, to get confirmation from the others. “Slide 8, please, that one is pretty blurry, was fighting for my life at the time. In any case, apparently that was not strange enough, because it was actually some sort of… shape changing… black… goop. Turned into that when we beat the fi- the minotaur up enough. I tried to communicate with it, and there was some sort of other consciousness answering. I didn’t know it at the time, but he seemed similar to the, ah, operators that some elven war machines seem to have.” Krishga shoots a fingergun in Eos’ direction. “He seemed to think he was in some sort of control room, anyway.” She throws back her head and takes a deep breath. “Right. Be brief. Too late for that, huh? Alright, let’s get through the rest. We beat back the war machine army, helped the Shivans recover and eventually returned up the chasm we can through.” She leans forward, her eyes suddenly gleaming. “The Maximus is also equipped with a flotation device, so it only took some careful maneuvering by yours truly to return all the way to the surface, well, not the surface, but, ah, LEM-7. She performed marvelously.” Krishga looks around the table to see if anyone is impressed. “Oh, uh. I mean the Maximus, not me. I don’t talk in the third person. Anyway. We got picked up by the Machine Wash Tumble Dry and, on our way back to the XK Masada, we were attacked by…” She points at Eos. “...his flying warmachine - yet another ancient elven weapon of war seemingly doing what Warwick wants, by the way - and a saboteur inside the Machine Wash Tumble Dry. At the end of it, we brought down the flying elven war machine, captured the saboteur and also the pilot - that’s him over there - but, I guess those are the things you all know about already. Lots more people to report about that.” She closes her eyes and takes a breath. “Two things. I tried contacting the war machine and, I think, got connected to… the pilots, well, ‘handler’ instead. It wasn’t particularly productive, but I admit it’s a bit of a blur. Once again, I was trying not to die at the time, and keep the Machine Wash Tumble Dry in one piece. Second thing.” Krishga looks up and at Makaias Dissima, the triton representative. “There was a large underwater explosion. From… a bomb I helped build. It was meant to go off in the air to take down the flying elven war machine, but… something must have gone wrong. Several sailors also…” The Goblin hangs her head. “Well. I’m sorry. It was not supposed to happen. Konas told me a little, and I know enough to know you don’t need people setting off any more bombs where you live.” Krishga is quiet for a few moments, then once again looks up, energetic again. “And that is it. Krishga Tazz, for the record. At… your… service.” She bows - and then carefully watches how each of the representatives reacts to what she has said. nil. fucked around with this message at 16:06 on Apr 7, 2024 |
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Apr 6, 2024 20:25
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Jaroth As you step into the meeting room and introductions happen, you notice a figure off to one side. Nondescript and wearing a light brown suit and suspenders, jacket tosses over the back of his chair and a white work shirt with the sleeves rolled up. On his head is a green visor and he is hunched over a table with an adding machine, punching in strings of numbers. A cigar stub is tucked into the corner of his mouth, a thin line of smoke curling up towards the ceiling. You try to get a better look at his face but your eyes seem to slide right off. You can feel it in your soul - this man is like you, an angel. But undamaged. Unbroken. He is where he should be - behind the scenes, wearing no guise but the one your mortal mind gives him to be comprehensible to your senses. He meets your gaze and holds it, pausing in his work. The stogie shifts from one side of his mouth to the other. "Hannan-Achartiel. Mr. Jaroth." His gaze shifts over to your two angel companions. "Sorvis-Kazbiel. Bedrimulael. Kalkydra." He lets out a cloud of smoke. "She did a number on you all. Pretty well mutilated beyond recognition. But alive and sane." He glances over to Krishga as she is in the middle of her explanation. You find it easy to listen to both, your senses existing on a level beyond the mortal. Not enough to naturally perceive this man without mortal filters, but enough to communicate with him in a basic way without alerting everyone else present. Krishga Slood surprisingly doesn't eye you up. Given his other social failings you'd half expect him to be a sexist creep as well. "Miss Tazz. Yes. Excellent work with that Guttlefink debacle." He adjusts his spectacles, glancing briefly at your hat. He clears his throat awkwardly. "Ehem. I heard about Professor Lupp. Unfortunate. I didn't know him personally, but I respected him as a colleague in the dimensional sciences. I look forward to seeing your own contributions." As you launch into your briefing, everyone is quiet and listens carefully. Even Lester seems to be properly awake throughout. A few curious glances are sent Alhena's direction as you mention the Shivans but their full attention is only gained when Warwick comes up. "Estoladion Hawkbinder.", Rulakir adds when it comes up. Otherwise, you are uninterrupted as you lay matters out. The assembly shifts a bit as they consider things and formulate questions. At last, Ashmonrabti speaks up. "When you spoke with Warwick, did she issue any demands? Any explanation as to her ultimate goals? Branwen Turning to you and Anastasia, Rulakir inquires. "This '1001' you encountered. It resembles a servant of one Serenity Greymist. Can you confirm or deny this? And was this machine destroyed? How about the other forces?" Makaias also seems particularly interested in the answer. "Yes! I need a specimen for my engineers!" Slood interjects, a manic tone to his voice. Eos Joanna rapidly translates for you, her bad accent starting to grate on your nerves. 1001 is still functional, huh? You never actually met any of that series but they have a strong reputation - built to oversee the original war effort and eventually fine tuned for assassination after the native inhabitants proved more tenacious then expected. Too little too late, however. The war was lost before they could cull the abyss wyrm numbers sufficiently. Their failures ultimately led to the creation of you and your siblings. Machines were proven incapable of providing results, so the elven species would handle things personally. Results have been middling. Estoladion Hawkbinder...the name is unfamiliar but it does resemble the degenerate naming conventions of the earthbound kin. Konas As Krishga finishes up her short report on the mission, you find yourself in a quandary. Should you mention the shark clan triton you met, Isurus, and his crew? Or the inactive 1001 they absconded with? How about his advisement to look for Toha should your pursuit take you to Aqualantis? What do you do?
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Apr 9, 2024 02:17
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As he entered the chamber, as well as during Krishga's presentation as well as during the follow-up questions, Jaroth seemed to take upon a slightly distant look. However, this was not entirely out-of-character for him, in fact anyone who has met him for any appreciable amount of time will notice that sometimes he seemed distracted by things that were... possibly his thoughts or perhaps perceptions of things that don't exist or... something. Although he is not absent, as occasionally his features shift as he glances around, occasionally exchanging looks with Krishga, attempting to draw her attention to various things that he has taken note of in the room. He had some thoughts regarding the briefing that Krishga gave, but it seems that these are likely too late to be brought to the fore now, especially because the whole scenario being described is over. It is unlikely that he will get the opportunity to visit the place that the Shivans originated from any time soon, or likely ever. Especially given what lay ahead. Nonetheless, he didn't draw attention to himself at this present juncture, it wouldn't be prudent - after all the current topic of inquiry was regarding these events at LEM-7. Simultaneously, Jaroth shifts his gaze (although this is easy as the exact spatial nature of the visitor does not put them into one singular place in the room) towards the unknown angel, here all along. It makes perfect sense. Jaroth gives him a look of recognition with his presence, while tinged with uncertainty. "I'm afraid that you have me at a disadvantage... do I know you?" inquired Jaroth, his tone even despite the curiosity obvious in his voice. Of course, this conversation was being expressed at a higher consciousness than most could perceive, and so the assembled personages were entirely unaware of what was being said or that anything was being said at all. The other assembled angels were also aware of this, of course, but they kept mostly on guard and quiet for the moment - to better let Jaroth deal with this stranger.
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Apr 14, 2024 18:13
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“…Hawk…binder.” Krishga takes a quick note somewhere in her notebook, on a page where she made a sketch of the ill-fated Formavit in the form the fellowship encountered him in, all melting fire and rage. While the inventor’s blueprints are usually quite exceptional, it is clear that her artistic talent is not as remarkable, and the sketch of the flaming minotaur looks more akin to something made in the margins of a bored, but imaginative student’s notebook. The Goblin turns to face Ashmonrabti and considers the paladin’s questions. “An explanation of her ultimate goals? Ah – well, no, not directly. Not like you’d get from Nefaros the Necromancer when he has Drakon captured and reveals his insidious machinations which-“ Krishga’s voice grows overdramatic for just a moment, and her hand reaches upwards as if to grasp something – and then she thinks better of it. She clears her throat. “Ahem. Like I said, not directly.” She pauses briefly, and seems to think of something that brings a twinkle to her eyes. “But, well, sometimes you have to read between the lines…” Krishga briefly glances at Jaroth and gives him a meaningful look, hoping that he has read her note asking him to help her get a read on the esteemed representatives in front of them, on their many wants, fears and agendas. “…try to be observant, make some educated guesses. Alright. So, demands.” She starts counting on her hand. “Warwick told us during our talk that all of An’Ehan was property of Integral – that’s her company – and asked us to please gently caress off. She offered a rather large bribe to each of us, which would be the carrot, aaaand… the deadly army in front of us at the time clearly was the stick, didn’t really need to be said.” Krishga clasps her hands together and tries to study the reactions of her counterparts as best as she can, something made difficult by the fact that right now, all eyes presumably were on her. She hopes Jaroth uses the opportunity to gain some insight, unobserved. “And those were the demands.” “As for her ultimate goals…” Krishga spreads her hands. “It looks like a whole lot of elite elven soldiers and war machines are dancing to Warwick’s tune, which brings me to something else she said during that brief chat: She said that if it were not for some legal technicalities she would have, I quote…” The Goblin fetches a sheet of paper from her binder, reads through it, and then continues. “…’legal authority over the Dominion entire’.” She raises an eyebrow at the representatives. “Now, normally, I’d say that was just a boast or bluffing, but, there was that ancient army of elven war machines doing her bidding. Oh, and 1001, the general? She said she got the codes for him, and that’s why he was under her command. Poor bugger..” She shakes her head, gaze cast down. “Now!” The Goblin lightly knocks a stack of papers against the table. “How did she get that power? She called the whole thing a ‘merger’ – bighat corporate lingo – and she mentioned that we’re invited to her… wedding. Who is she marrying? No idea. Why did she bring it up? Usually, I’d also tell you I have no idea, but… maybe that’s the kind of ‘merger’ she was talking about.” Krishga shrugs. “I hear some folk think the power to rule should be based on blood and marriage. “She scoffs. “I’m no expert on elven internal politics, but maybe, just maybe something like that is going on.” “But the big question?” She throws up her arms for a moment for emphasis. “The one you’d like an answer to? ‘What is it all for? What’s the big goal?’ No idea at all. Seems clear to me that having at least partial power over the Dominion isn’t the end of it, if that whole mess is true. You don’t need to make Aqualantis disappear for that. There’s something else going on.” She nods to herself. “Something else…” The Goblin grins, “And I suppose it’s up to us to find out what, huh?” Again she lets her gaze linger on those before her, tries to gauge how they have reacted to what she said, to how she said it. In all likelihood, however, the moment before the mask these people are trained in to wear hides what they think is already gone – and Krishga hopes Jaroth was there to see it. “Ah, Jaroth, you got those… other notes I gave you earlier? Let me check something quickly, huh?” She holds out her hand, her voice low and casual. quote:Roll Look Closely with help from Jaroth: 12 nil. fucked around with this message at 20:03 on Apr 20, 2024 |
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Apr 14, 2024 18:37
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Jaroth The angel pauses in his work and leans back, giving you all his full attention. Though his features remain vague and hard to attribute specific details too, you get a sense of middle age. This fellow has been around for a while, even for an immortal. "We haven't met. I'm the Bookie - I run the odds and adjust them when necessary." He takes a puff on his cigar before continuing. In base reality, Krishga is still in the middle of her report, with Anastasia and Alhena occasionally clarifying some point or other. All this, apparently just to find the means to return to the place you escaped from. "That stunt out in the Sea of Crescents drew some attention from the Watchers, naturally. I was here already and was asked to look into the matter. " He leans forward and though it's not truly there, you distinctly feel a very serious look in his eyes. "Your angel selves, the parts of you pulled from the esoteric realms and bound to mortal flesh. You resemble no spiritual pattern I have encountered. What god did you serve?" That's a difficult question. You have memories, of course, but they are scattered. Battles from eons ago come and go to your waking mind but full of gaps and rents in the details. Name of people and places with no image to accompany them, scenes of horror and beauty out of any step with recognizable place or time. Skies foreign to Jaroth flit behind his eyes and you suspect the same could be said of your companions. As for the question, what god? What god indeed? What do you do? Krishga Lady Marjorie laughs uproariously when you mention Warwick asking you to gently caress off, and doesn't bother to catch herself. The rest politely ignore her and you continue. As you bring up the wedding and merger Rulakir pays particular attention, his face stern and clearly displeased with what he's hearing. Everyone else bears a similar expression - presumably. It's hard to get a read on a seven-headed snake. Meaningful glances are exchanged, especially between Rulakir, the Class of '73, and Lester. Lester seems almost wholly awake at this point and the yawns have nearly ceased. Apparently coming to a decision, Rulakir looks at you and rests his arms on the table. "Correct. 'Find out what' is precisely it. This was intended to be an ad hoc interview to determine your suitability for the mission. Considering your conduct so far in investigating LEM-7 and fending off the A.D.F. I think we can dispense with that formality." He looks to the rest of the panel and none offer any argument. Ashmonrabti picks up for him. "What he's trying to ask is, would you be willing to be our eyes on the ground at Aqualantis, find out what Warwick and the Dominion are up too, and report back. You've proven yourselves capable enough in both making allies and dealing with your foes." That seems clear enough, but something feels off. A catch or complication they aren't mentioning. Rulakir, Lester, and the Class of '73 seem to be the shifty ones here from what you've seen. Either the rest are unaware or just much better at keeping their emotions off their face(s). Granted serpents in general come off as extremely shifty in your eyes so no surprises on that point. You also notice Jaroth acting a bit strange. He is clearly paying attention but his eyes suggesthe's in another world entirely. The angel and his companions have proven a bit odd so it's not terribly surprising but this is hardly the time to daydream! What do you do? Shardix fucked around with this message at 14:22 on Apr 15, 2024 |
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Apr 15, 2024 04:08
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 [ ]|| COU +2 [ ]|| GRA -1 [ ]|| SEN +0 [ ]|| WIS +2 [ ] Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] Gear: Armor[X] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] || Power[X][X] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Branwen face pauses and her eyes subtly move to look over the Lady Marjorie Nachtzehrer, taken aback at the apparent age of the Markgraf's daughter and the eccentric-even-for-the-Nachtzehrer's concept of Branwen gives a raised eyebrow to Rulakir and a few moments of silence as she considers the intent behind his words, before replying "Resembles at a glance, perhaps. Engaging with it in and out of combat situations revealed some fundamental differences. Intended purpose of design and capabilities and the like. And no," Branwen doesn't need to avert her gaze to see Dissima's and Greznikrek's hungry expressions, "I cannot explain any technical details, for either. What I can say with confidence is 'One Oh Oh One' is a warmachina of Dominion make, meant to lead other warmachina, and acted with all the disdain and superiority befitting those facts. After it was disabled the other still operating warmachina managed to secure and retreat with it."
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Apr 15, 2024 14:38
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Jaroth thought. Pushing backwards in his mind, he attempted to concentrate, to try to grasp at something ineffable that he feels has been with him for a long time now. Perhaps longer than his current existence. Perhaps it always was this way, or maybe just his currently transcendental nature causes seemingly paradoxical events to cloud his mind. For that he could not be certain, but what he could do is feel one thing. Silence. Always silence, it always had been and yet at one point was never the case. Then he spoke once more to the Bookie, this time a little quieter, yet in a way that was clearly audible to all assembled in this meta-state, above the more mundane meeting that was occurring simultaneously. He felt his throat dry up, but he pushed forward nonetheless. "The Silent God, of course." A simple answer, but an elegant one. It all made perfect sense, of course. Once omnipresent, but long since broken - their state irrevocably, if not retroactively changed. Silence did not always reign, and yet... it did. They were heralded in the signs that most refuse to see, the doldrums that still ships, the darkness that rushes in when your last candle burns out, the numbness that radiates outwards when you realise that you have lost something that can never be recovered, the clean odour that comes about when something unpleasant or unwanted has been so thoroughly cleansed as to erase it having ever happened, the silence following the last breath. Once their designs linked all things, knitting together all that there was in one great working - and yet this was never the case. The Broken Domain was not always so, but eternally it has been broken. Once their portfolio encompassed all things, for they were all that defined the divine, but they have always held onto only what they currently represent: Law. Byzantine, ancient laws that mark their places indelibly. From this (or perhaps it's the other way around?), the Silent God always, even now, holds dominion over something that all angels were keenly aware of - and from within this key clues arrive that some might use to ascertain the paradoxically transcendental nature of the Silent God - that of Words. Jaroth grits his teeth and a bead of sweat forms upon his brow as he makes this realisation, although he distinctly gets the feeling that he always knew - and that perhaps the more ethereal aspect of his existence merely displaced this knowledge to protect him. Perhaps this is why he holds some many Words of Power deep within his soul, and why he is more able to shepherd his fellows, whose new nature broke them more than it did him. Although other things were happening in the room, from this side of the infinitely large gulf that separated the two overlapping existences, silence reigned as he waited for the Bookie's response. However, on the more mundane side of things it merely appeared that he was deep in thought, perhaps deeper than normal.
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Apr 18, 2024 17:52
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Branwen Rulakir puts a hand to his chin and he considers your words thoughtfully. "Hmm, I see." He sets his hand back and nods decisively, as if he's made up his mind about something. "There are more pressing matters right now, but I would like to sit down with you and Miss Krishga in the future to discuss the specific strategies and tactics these warmachina utilized. It may prove invaluable for the day Lashute takes High Clarity. Especially if that battle armor of yours," He looks to Krishga, "recorded it all." He doesn't seem especially concerned about pushing the matter of specimens for Greznikrek, who you have noticed Rulakir typically ignores whenever the goblin chimes in. Jaroth As you speak, the Bookie seems to...distort. You recall one of your old buddies in the mercenary corp waving a magnet in front of a television screen, and what happens to the Bookie as you reveal yourself reminds you of that. Around you, your own companions seem a bit shaken but they do not react in such a peculiar way. Kalkydra ruffles her feathers and warbles confusedly at you. The figure in the green visor removes his glasses and polishes them with a shirt tail before slipping them back onto his face. His previously gravely baritone now carries a hint of uncertainty. "This...seems like it's above my station. I felt that but I don't know what it means." "You're really something else, kid."
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Apr 20, 2024 00:24
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ BLOOD: 2 || COURAGE: 1 || GRACE: 3 || SENSE: -1 || WISDOM: 0 ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Screw it, they ought to know of Isurus’ involvement. And I may as well see what bites with mention of Toha. “It should be noted that during our time in An’Ehon, we had Shark Clan infiltrating the area. They appeared to have nothing to do with the machines, but they did make off with an inactive version of the one in charge. The triton leading the crew is Isurus. As for why they wanted it, I can guess one or two things: either the Shark Clan is looking for any advantage they can for their efforts or they’re acquiring the machine on behalf of someone else, who that is I don’t know. Oh, he also mentioned looking into Toha in regards to what happened to Aqualantis, figured that would explain more than what he gave.”
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Apr 27, 2024 09:00
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Krishga grins at Lady Marjorie when she bursts out into laughter, and with a smile continues her tale, almost as enthusiastic as if she was explaining the capabilities of one of her inventions. When Rulakir responds after silently conferring with his peers, the Goblin has to put some effort into keeping her smile up to not make it apparent that she is studying them, trying to determine what hides behind their practiced words. She raises an eyebrow as it becomes clear to her that Rulakir, Lester and - she shudders involuntarily, briefly - the class of ‘73 are hiding something. Krishga glances over at Jaroth to see whether he too has sensed what she did, only to see the angel’s focus being somewhere else. “Ah. Aha. Yes.” Krishga frowns at Jaroth, as if to ask what he is doing. When there is no response, she briefly smiles apologetically at Rulakir and the others, nods at them and quickly scribbles something on a small note. Well, great. I should have known - no, I did know something like that was coming. They know more, and they’re not telling us. Why? Who the gently caress knows. Maybe that we’re unlikely to ever come back from where we have to go next, to follow Warwick. Maybe one of them or more are involved in the whole marriage/takeover/merger or whatever is going on with that - probably not working with Warwick anymore, but maybe were somehow caught up in it earlier and anyone finding out now would damage their reputation. Would make things… politically inconvenient. Pfft. Wouldn’t want that. Ugh. Best be honest with yourself, Krishga, there’s a good chance those people can talk circles around you if I just talk their language. Really now. We risk our lives for them, and this is the thanks and support we get? Wait. No. That’s wrong. We’re not risking our lives for them. Not for them. Right. Krishga nods, this time to herself, and sits up straight again. She passes her note to Branwen, not trying to hide that she does, though it is still folded together, the message within not visible. The message for Branwen reads ‘Rulakir, Korzati guy, Snakes hiding something. Just ask? Could use help, you go ‘scary metal Bombardan’?’. The Goblin listens to the conversation between Brawnen and Rulakir, quite certain she is at least part of its true subtleties, though it is Konas’ revelation, having stayed quiet until now, regarding 1001’s fate, that makes her drop her jaw for just one moment. She catches herself and resolves to discuss the matter with Konas himself, in private and later. The tinker clears her throat, smiles, and clasps her hands together. With renewed confidence - or perhaps irreverence, she addresses the representatives in front of her, Lord Rulakir first. “Great! Our investigations will go that much better if you contribute in whatever way you are able to. That is to say…” Krishga nods at Ashmonrabti. “...while I am sure we still need to discuss the finer points, I think I speak for everyone if I say that we have no intention of stopping now. Or being stopped. From looking into this whole Aqualantis business, I mean.” The Goblin looks to her left, then her right, to get affirmation from her companions. “It’ll be dangerous business and, well, we might only have one shot at this.” She raises an eyebrow. “You might only have one shot at this. Us. So if there is anything you can do to help, anything you might know, might not have mentioned yet - you are quite powerful people after all, it’d be hard to believe you know nothing - now is the time. Later? Later it might be too late to do anything other than have regrets and open a bottle, huh?” Krishga shrugs. “Regarding 1001, his underlings and their tactics, two things.” She starts counting, first addressing Rulakir. “If I find the time, I would be happy to answer a few questions. The Maximus is not mainly a walking camera team, but, I expect she still recorded most of what I talked about, even if it is not in Prime Time quality.” She grins. “Oh, the videos will be made publicly available. I expect there will be some interesting academic papers, it’s fascinating stuff, though I can mostly only say that from an engineering point of view. Speaking of which…” She turns to face Greznikrek. “I agree that the elven warmachina and 1001 are fascinating technology. As I said, though, 1001 was clearly sapient and also forced to do his master’s bidding against his will, or, in other words, a slave.” Her smile remains, though it no longer looks as cheery. “There’s a lot to learn from the technology, but not how to build people owned by other people. Agreed?” She crosses her arms, closes her eyes for a second, then continues. “Alright. That’s that. As I said, I plan to continue looking into Warwick and Aqualantis, and I think I’m not the only one. Investigating that mystery might have been what got me interested, but we should not forget that there’s people in Aqualantis that likely need help. It’s a big city, and they’re not all going to be in on whatever Warwick is planning. Which, more likely than not, is not going to mean anything good for everyone outside Aqualantis either, huh? Disappearing cities, trying to steal living suns, taking over the Dominion…” She waves her hand and shakes her head. “...it all makes an extraordinarily gifted inventor think she needs to do something before it all comes to a nasty conclusion. But, well, as things stand, we’re going to need all the help we can get.” She raises an eyebrow at Rulakir, then Lester, and finally looks vaguely past the Class of ‘73. “From you.”
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Apr 27, 2024 20:39
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 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD -1 || COU +1 || GRA +0 || SEN +2 || WIS +2 FOOD •••• | BOOZE •• | ARMOR • | HEAL •• | GUN ••• BONDS: Branwen • | KT • | Jaroth • ---------------------------------------------------------------------------  Gustav Holst - ♄ (8-bit)Delicately, I clear my throat. I've been watching and listening, conserving my strength. I don't quite think the people in this room understand yet what an effect their gravity has on me, purpose-bred for the long sleep and the airless night. It's an effort just to keep myself focused on the deliberations. It feels as if fully half a year has gone by since we first entered this room... <Did you know, the guard told me I was not being marched to my death,> I comment to the translator, as lightly as I can pretend to. Everything about me feels light. So light. How can I feel so light when this world weighs so heavy on me? <My mother can lie better than this as easily as she breathes.> <You are all as ignorant as your masters. As ignorant even as I. This is a matter for the gods. If The Busybody even deigns to notice you, housekeeper, it's to chastise you for a mess yet untidied.> I can't hide my grin of satisfaction as his hand twitches, involuntarily. The one with the missing finger. Oh, Jaira, I think. You'll never change, you old Reaper. Always concerned with what's broken or flawed, and too little time spent honoring what's already whole. I've been facing the translator until now, as though ignoring the man he speaks for; only now do I open a few more eyes, on my shoulders and elbows, and focus intently on the commander himself. The man Durrell. My posture doesn't change an iota. <So, in ignorance and fear, we turn now to the jetsam of my people's ancient mistakes. I came here to be tried, did I not? As oil is tried from a whale. Be not so arrogant as to offer me this poor jest of false clemency.> This remark I direct to the man Rulakir, who - even behind my guarded Threshold, was known as a man the Choir did the honor of hating personally. He'd love to see me all wrung out, stripped of what little I know like a wet rag. I lean forward in my chair, and feel sure they all notice the way my underused muscles shake as I hold myself taut. <Know that I am older than you can dream. The azure star, Meshaia as she is called, was created to be the bane of my people; and in turn, my clade was bred to be the bane of those who ignited her, when the machine-series you designate 'Nine' proved insufficient to the task. Her light is poison. Her gaze is madness. Where Meshaia's light falls, the worldwalls fray.>  <If the Choir seeks to wrest control of that poison star from its rightful inheritors...I cannot imagine what they hope to gain by such an act. Better for all our kinds that the Azure remain below, in safe confinement, where she cannot taint the world again. Better she be left to tend the Shivans who survived her creators' long anticipated demise.> My concentration slips. Unbidden the memories of the ancient Disaster flood me....mountainsides pierced by lines of dripping, viscid radiance....storms of boulders and meat hanging impossibly in midair, water that runs uphill, champing wet fissures of red ropy cacophony that twist the senses even to percieve...and my own brother, ahh-- Abruptly my core gives out, and I slump in the conference chair like a discarded marionette, struggling to breathe, struggling to keep myself anchored to the here and now. When I nerve myself to speak again my voice is breathless, and as harsh as a crow's caw. <So. Promise me, here and now, you rulers, in the name of the King of Air and Darkness. If you need our help, then promise me protection of our breath and blood, should we be sent into the unknown to spy for you. Not only mine but these others as well. No aid you could offer holds worth to me, save that it be Promised. My life is already forfeit, save that you reach out your hands to safeguard it. Will you do so?> Xom posted:Roll: [5, 3], Result: 10
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May 5, 2024 00:56
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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- BLD +2 [ ]|| COU +2 [ ]|| GRA -1 [ ]|| SEN +0 [ ]|| WIS +2 [ ] Blessings: Strength[ ] || Speed[ ] || Glory[ ] Gear: Armor[X] || Fuel[ ][ ][ ] || Power[X][X] Hilda: Crack Shot[ ] || Quick As A Bullet [ ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Branwen leans back, considering Krishga's note. "Mm. While we've acted as eyes so far, I am finding some things strange..." Bran pauses, mulling over her words for a few moments. And as Joanna's translating falls silent for long enough, the captive pilot seems to think the pause is opening for their contribution and launches into a meandering rant about Meshaia, the past, invoking weightless names for promise of safety. With a slow, tortured, and unpleasantly loud metal-on-metal grind as Branwen clenches her jaw and grinds her teeth after Eos slumps back and falls silent, managing to catch the attention of most eyes at the table. "I'm not even on the battlefield and somehow my plans do not survive contact with this damned elf." With one more loud exhalation, she continues "Fine, I'll play to stereotype." Branwen loudly slaps her hand down on the table. "I want cards on the table. There's more behind this than just a scouting party, and if we know what you want we can be more helpful. Or dash your hopes now rather than later." Xom posted:Roll: [6, 5,
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May 5, 2024 13:07
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