2023.04.13 Giant Robot On the Moon
| 04.13.23 Giant Robot on the Moon | |
|---|---|
| Iris, Branton, Irsa, and Trey travel to the dark side of the moon to learn about anamae, and get hijacked by an Etherite moon settlement. A vengeful fellow Mage inside a Mecha set on destroying his rival winds up in a dance fight with Trey while Irsa and Branton find and expose the truth. | |
| IC Date | 04.13.23 |
| Players | Branton, Irsa, Iris, Trey |
| Location | The dark side of the moon |
| Spheres | Garou, Bastet, Kinfolk, Sorcerer |
Space Boat - Low Earth Orbit
Space. The final frontier. Hanging in low earth orbit within the Aetherial realm is this patchwork ship. It looks like a gigantic child smashed several kinds of earthly ships together and forced them to be a single object. Many floored and wrapped in balconies like a paddle boat, spiked with massive masts like a galley, it could hold a small village worth of folk aboard it comfortably. The ship is outfitted for long voyages away from home and crewed almost entirely by spirits. There's a glass enclosed garden to produce food that's overseen by Sun and Water and tended by plant Naturae. A Lounge is available for drinks and food, with tables, beanbag chairs, and of course a karaoke machine that is jealously guarded and powered by an Electricity elemental. A section of the lounge has been built entirely of glass, so that one can sing and dance amongst the stars without getting lost in them. The bridge is dominated by bizarre devices of umbral exploration, from a bejeweled armillary sphere for steering to consoles of mounted maps and strange navigational devices. There aren't intercoms on the ship, but there are large-mouthed lizards that yell the captain's orders across the ship when needed. A pennon waves at the highest point of the ship, and it's sails are huge, marvelous things of red and gold, black and silver. A small row boat kept at the stern provides a quick and automated way to get to a planet's surface and back again.
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Iris is on the bridge and doing a bit of calibration and last minute math for orbital trajectory so she doesn't accidentally just shoot straight past the target and have to backtrack some tens of thousands of miles. Not that that's a terrible thing, given the ship's augmentations, but it's still annoying. She picked up Trey earlier so he could get on the ship, and sure, he's gotta be tethered to her, but he's got some leash to wander around a little bit. At the very least he can reach the captain's cabin to peruse her shit tons of notebooks.
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Trey ooohs at the idea of shit-tons of notebooks. He has been going through with a big pack of post-its and marking things by order of importance, or interest, or just plain shininess. "Did you really meet a spirit of disappointment? Poor thing must have such a sorrowful life... I wonder what would happen if you made it laugh..."
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Irsa turns up, like she's wont to do, already prepared for a Fantastic Voyage (tm). It's not even a joke, she's humming that song as she takes the Lifeboat Express up to the main ship.
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Branton is on the boat already, in the galley making sure road snacks are sorted. He comes out to the lounge with a tray to feed and water his mate "It would probably explode. For a bit at least."
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Mercy smooches Branton and has a snack, and says, "That's what I would have thought, but it turned in to this whole downward spiral of the two of us making each other feel so awful about everything that we both kinda devolved into a sobbing pile of, well, disappointment. Not my best performance with a spirit, I'll tell ya that much. And like you cant even *try* to make them feel better cause the default there is failure, which is disafuckingpointment, and if you succeed, well great, you just put the poor thing into slumber and have to fix it, and then you just feel worse!" Damn spirits! She spots Irsa boarding and waves from the other end of the ship. When she's close enough, she says, "So I wanted to teach you dear friends about guardian angels today, with a minor field trip. Everyone fine with that?"
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Trey comes out of the captain's cabin with a notebook in hand and smiles ruefully at Branton's remark. "Yeah, probably. Poor spirit, that's gotta be a sucktacular existence. And poor you. So I think I will make a mental note to just give it a disappointing riddle and let it be if I ever encounter one on my own." He looks over to where Irsa is boarding and waves his empty hand, which has a pink post-it stuck to the back. "Oooh. You mean like the numen, the kin-fetch spirits we were talking about? Or something else?" He nods eagerly.
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Irsa is still grooving as she steps out onto the deck, head and body swaying as she hums along to the music in her head. She waves at the others as she dance-sashays towards the group, moving her hips in complete and utter joy. She's young, she's still alive, and best of all, a big chunk of her very favorite people are all in one place. "It don't get no better than this," she declares, as she sets down her pack with a thump. "Guardian Angels? I'm down, queen. Take this Rat-wolf on a riiiiide!"
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Branton nods enthusiastically as he takes a seat next to his lady and takes a drink for himself "Well I'm up for whatever. We'll wind up learning something interesting regardless."
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"Pain spirits are worse." Mercy opines, "I mean being depressed all the time sucks, but living in constant pain would just be... Not awesome." But back to the thing at hand, she says, "No! Totally different! The spirits we're learning about today are called Anamae." She then spells the word so no one will get it confused with Anime, Trey did say he found out about tentacles the hard way, so she's making sure he won’t have a panic attack or anything, probably. She steers the ship while talking, turning it away from the earth and towards the moon, all fucknormous in the Umbral zone, and split half and half down the middle, black and white in its waning phase. "There's only a few kinds of these spirits, as they're very, very specific. Children of Gaia know of one type of Anamae because they're directly tied to their totem, the Unicorn Anamae." She's got more, of course, but you gotta keep it bite sized.
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Trey actually remembers the Anamae being mentioned before, so he's not having horrid flashbacks to Tentacle Hentai or anything. That's an entirely *different* part of the Umbra! (Thank Gaia) He keeps his gaze moving between the hands on the controls and the view of peekaboo Luna, listening. Turns out the notebook was his, because he makes a quick note in there and then tucks the pen back behind his ear. "Are they something to do with bygones? Creatures that don't exist in the material world any more?"
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"Met a Unicorn spirit once, with Jackie," Irsa remarks, as she parks her ass on the bridge deck near the others. "It was pretty majestic, but kinda weird, ya know? Like, you got your mind tellin' you what a unicorn is in th' stories you've heard or read, and what th' spirit actually is."
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Branton grins at Trey and adds "Or it could be from the same part of the High Umbra that the Sebbetu are from originally. They do call themselves Fallen Angels."
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"I think that that's a part of what they are, yes." Mercy confirms for Trey, "Not necessarily bygones, but still tied to an age where spirit didn't have to be separated from flesh by the gauntlet. And that old old old makeup is probably why a lot of shape shifters don't really seem to *know* about them, or if they do, they don't know enough about them to call on them the way they're meant to be called upon. You see, they're *super* unique. Like you can have a bunch of different spirits all centered around the core concept of love, or hate, or inspiration or whatever other conceptual thing, right. It's hard to tell the difference between two different fire elementals, or like Glade Children might have unique appearances for the most part, but you're not going to really pick one over another when you need to make some healing, nature-based fetish. A spirit is a spirit is a spirit as far as most shifters are concerned. The thing with Anamae is that you get one. That's it. There's a lot out there, but YOU get just one unicorn anamae. That's *your* guardian angel, *your* guide. They're not servants, they're reflections of *you* specifically. Your soul, your nature, your experiences and attitudes. Following me so far?"
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Trey ooohs, and nods to Branton, "Well, if the Sebbetu exist, it would stand to reason that the various choirs of angels do, too. I met a Hermetic sorcerer once who talked about the whole practice. They use so much ceremony, just a different sort... more pageantry than soul-linked, if that makes sense. So much of ritual magic that you find in books is all of that watchtowers and Archangels material." He ohs as Iris explains, and actually grins with that, settling in to see what comes next. "Yeah, like specific types of love: the love of family, of friends, the love of craft, love of a concept..." Huh. Unique? He jots a note and then turns his full attention back to Iris. "So... each of us has one?" His eyes go wide with that. It's like handing a kid candy.
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Irsa scratches the nick in her ear as she listens to Mercy. "Huh. That how Black Unicorn got started, d'ya think? I mean, Unicorn's got aspects, just this one got so buff from bein' attached to so many that it took on more power with time." Not a bad theory, but who knows? Spirit is a wild and wonderful place, with so many twists and turns. "So, uh, I don't believe in demons and angels an' shit like that. I mean, I think things exist that call themselves that, and they got their own reality, sure. But th' power to try and collect my soul for Hell? That's a lot. Do they get their power to affect regular folks by them folks thinking these things got rights to that kinda power over 'em?"
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Branton shrugs at Irsa's question "They can harvest faith for power but I don't know too much about the specifics of how that works. Its complicated and probably wicked off topic." For Mercy he grins and nods "That makes sense to me."
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"Yep." Mercy confirms for Trey, "Every single one of us. They live solely in the Children of Gaia ancestral homeland, but they can come forth to help you when you need their kind of help. You cant *summon* them, but you can pray for their aid, you can send out the summons but as a polite request, not a ritual demand. They occupy a funny little niche in the ancient pact between spirits and shifters, a nich that is for the very very few non-servants that exist. They're not here to serve, they're here to help in fairly specific ways. For instance, your unicorn anamae helps you with your soul problems, it's there to talk it out with you, help you better understand yourself, help you fix your you-problems or even teach you a gift related to your you, not to perform tasks for you or be bound. They look the way your *soul* looks. A perfect, beautiful Silver Fang noble might have a unicorn that is dull coated and scarred from deep internal struggles, you get me?"
She shakes her head at Irsa and says, "Black unicorn is a... a bigger spirit, an aspect of Unicorn itself that embodies the pissed off hippy need to burn down the things that threaten peace and prosperity. The Anamae are smaller spirits. Like there's Zephyr, the Gentle Wind which is a larger, more global spirit, and then there's air elementals. Today we're obviously NOT going to the Children of Gaia homeland, I'm taking you to the moon so you can meet another kind of personal Anamae called a Moonshadow."
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Trey says, "Not having seen any of the afterlives myself, I can't say for sure, but... I do think that people's belief colors their perceptions. It's a big universe, and I don't believe in the concept of a single deity, mainly because a single deity trying to be all things to all people would be utterly psychotic. Gaia is Gaia, but she is also all the parts that make her up. She's smart, she delegates." He grins. "Umbrally, like Branton said in the High Umbra, there may be reflections of that belief, but I don't think they are *right*. They see their world a little off kilter. Like... there's a kind of Mage that has gone insane, called a Marauder, and they manifest their insanity around them as reality. I think it might have arisen something like that, maybe over time made the whole thing seem real, and then later became real, in a sense, because someone managed to convince enough people that it was true that spirits began to exist and grow in power."
A pause. "Sorry, got way off track there." He shuts up and lets Iris talk for a while, and hrms, pondering this, letting his mind soar as he considers this. "Now I'm curious what mine is like," he murmurs, then takes in the response to Irsa. Oooh! Moonstuff! He bounces a little in place and says, "Cool!"
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Irsa shrugs at Branton. "It got brought up, I asked. But yeah, it's way off topic now. I'll hit ya up on that later, bring over some green from my place. You get wicked when you're high, dude," she adds with a grin. Vapers unite! She's also saving those Mage questions for later, it's lesson time! "Yeah, I figured. Just throwin' out thoughts for peeps t' think on," she replies to Mercy. "Moonshadows... heard th' name, but I dunno that I've ever met one."
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Branton grins broadly at Trey and *resists* the urge to plunge down the Marauder related tangent, It’s not like he needs to give Irsa yet another Lore to spend xp on just now. To his mate he chuckles "Are we going to the part of the moon I've been to already or somewhere different?" Irsa gets a chuckle "That's how some students have liked to learn from me, get me stoned and ask the right question to get me to go offffff."
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Mercy also makes some mental notes for some philosophical religion vs the spirit world talk for later. "Some place different." she tells Branton, "Today we're visiting the dark side of the moon, opposite Luna's shining city. This is the only place in all of creation where a Moonshadow can be found. Just like the unicorn Anamae they can’t be summoned and they can’t be bound, and often times they'll politely ignore your attempts to call upon them because they have one, JUST one, task to perform for you. Saving your life when you're about to be murderized. I can’t stress this lesson enough to you, kids: people die because they don't *know* about their Moonshadow. It can not, will not spontaneously leap from the heavens to save you, you must ask, you *must* ask. In your darkest moment, when you're *going* to die, you must *ask* Luna for her aid in saving your life, just a prayer from your lips when you're desperate and know your end is near. Then and only then will she release your Moonshadow from her realm to intercede on your behalf and avert the moment of your death."
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Trey asks, "And only once, I am assuming? No nine lives to call on, I would assume?" He is content to save more of the other philosophical discussions for later -- this is fascinating on its own. "No catswarm, then, I'm guessing." He hasn't seen the *other* side of the moon, but hey! It's the MOON! "Remembering this could save us, this is... amazing stuff."
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Irsa just stares at Mercy blankly for several moments while that comment sinks into her brain. "Holy shit. For real? That is one dedicated spirit." She lets out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "This just happen in th' Umbra, or anywhere you find yourself?" There must be rules to this, surely, or Garou would be throwing themselves willy-nilly into Malfeas on a mad quest to try and slay the Wyrm and escaping unharmed when they completely, inevitably, fail.
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Branton is now laser focused on the mission briefing. He's not actively writing in a notebook but at least committing it all to memory. The others seem to have the question thing covered for the moment.
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"As far as I know there's not a limit," Mercy admits, "I mean we're creatures that throw ourselves at death constantly so once is pretty chinsey, but you have to know in your heart that you can’t simply claw your way out of things this time. Luna doesn't suffer foolishness or laziness, of course, if a moonshadow doesn't arrive, it's because you missed something, you have a perfectly viable escape possibility sitting right there that you haven't noticed, and she's not going to endanger her spirits OR let you skate through life being not so clever when there's something you could easily be handling your own self. A lack of arrival is still an answer to you." She nods at Irsa and says, "Auntie Luna might love cats *best*, but she still loves *all* of us. Even those shifting creatures that venerate Helios can be assured of Luna's love, but she wants you to ask first. Lady's got a lot of shit to do, she can’t watch everyone at once, but she answers her voice mails really fast.”
Ahead, a swarm of white lunes that alternate between the form of a white ribbon or a shining white lady begin to try and form their blockade to trick and confuse the travelers. Mercy is a heartless cheater and taps the figurehead at the bow with some gnosis to open a sky gate and pop past them. They zip to catch up and try again, so she gates past them again. She's kind of pissing them off, but technically this still counts as cleverness against their enigmas. But in a more 'slice through the gordian knot rather than actually try to untie it' kind of way.
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Trey rolls Gnosis(5) (5 dice) vs 6 for 4 successes.
5 +7 +7 +8 +10
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Trey ohs, and his jaw drops for a moment. "Seline really does love us all," he murmurs in wonder. No laziness, no cheap tricks... that he can understand, but even the most clever cat or resourceful wolf comes to a moment of 'oh, fuck.' He smiles brightly at this whole concept, almost losing the questions for a moment or two. He pauses and tries to amuse the lunes to make them less pissed off -- how, you ask? By DANCING. He sings -- not horribly -- along with a song he remembers, and Capers across the deck: "Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk... that I'm Luna's Cat, who loves to talk..."
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Irsa's mouth quirks at her mentor's answer. "Gotta love Lady Moon. Luna ain't nobody's fool." She leans against the railing and watches the lunes chasing after the ship, snickering with admiration and humor as they try to trick the crew and passengers. "D'ya know how much I love this?" she asks, thrusting a fist in the air. "Go, Dancin' Lynx! Get DOWN with your bad self!"
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Branton snickers at Trey's display as he considers the fact that he's not a shifter so he probably isn't covered but that's what his overpreparing paranoia is for.
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Mercy completely loses track of everything that she was doing, including steering, as she turns to watch Trey dance, very nearly hypnotized by the display, just as the pants intended. She jerks herself back to the present by force of will and yanks the wheel to avoid running into a random rock. "And, uh..." Hang on, there was a conversation, what was it? Oh yeah! "Yeah I mean, you could decide to single handedly take on Malfeas, but Malfeas doesn't *kill* you, it corrupts you, and Luna cant help you with bad decisions. And if you were gonna be all suicidal with your life, she's probably gonna let you do it eventually. Putting yourself into situations where you'll definitely die on purpose a lot is just gonna irritate her and the Moonshadow probably, since at that point you're just willfully being a dick and using her and her children as a safety net. Okay, prepare for an away mission, I just gotta get us turned the right way." The moon, from the ship's angle, is mostly just a black void in the equally black expanse of the Aetherial reaches, but they can still see a sliver of her light side from where they end up. Mercy rotates the ship so that the moon is 'under' them.
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Trey didn't intend to distract Iris, but thankfully, she shook it off like a champ. He grins at Irsa and does a final spin and jazz-hands just because he can. Then he's serious about the continued lesson, even if the Dancin' Pants are calling to his feet. He nods and says, "So the golden rule of 'don't be a dick' applies." He looks over the sliver of silver beneath them, and smiles again. "I was serious when I said I want to go here when I die. If I don't get there on my own, I want to spend the afterlife here." He's saying this for a reason; packmate and close friends as witness, he's sure they would do this if he needed it. "But until then... moonshadows!"
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Irsa points at Mercy when she makes the remark about Malfeas. "Exactly where my mind jumped, 'cause ya know some dumbass has tried it, or they're gonna try it. But hey, that's why we got Elders an' theurges, t' try an' prevent excess stupid." Her mouth quirks at Trey's decision. "Not a bad place at all," she agrees. "Already picked out where my last days will be b'fore I go. Ain't really though about after that."
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Brantonsnorts at Irsa "You'll be back before you know it. That's my working theory for why the Bone Gnawers don't have ancestor spirits to call on. Ya'all don't stay dead long enough to build up that tradition."
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"Honestly, I think you will." Mercy tells Trey while getting the ship properly parked in geosynchronous orbit over the moon and anchored so it won’t just float off somewhere. "It stands to reason that each breed and type has a homeland somewhere, and even though Bastet are generally very individual and only loosely bound together, they all have one thing in common, Mother Selene's love and call. I think going into her embrace after you die is a very strong possibility. And aside from just her own created spirits, I believe quite a lot of the cats that roam her dusty tracks are in fact your ancestor spirits." For Irsa, she just points and nods agreeingly at Branton and gives the woman an encouraging smack on the butt on her way to the row boat for a non-weightless descent to the lunar surface. She brings a pack with her, but in all honesty, it just has some of her tools, a notebook, and snacks.
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Trey mmms. "If it's a really stupid idea, doubtless, someone has done it. Or tried," he agrees. "And I only tend to do the clever bad ideas, not the stupid ones." Or so he claims. He chuckles, and huhs about the ancestors. "I didn't know your tribe didn't have ancestor spirits," he says, "Keep coming back -- yeah, that sounds plausible." He smiles as Mercy asserts his hope, and says, "I was thinking that, too, when we came here. That there's a lot of my folk of various tribes in that catriver. Maybe we finally decide to get along better when Mama's there to swat us upside the head." He grabs his own pack, stuffing the notebook he was writing in back inside, and jumps into th rowboat, peering beneath them to try and see despite the darkness.
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Irsa snorts back at Branton. "Like hell we don't. We do, but we don't call on 'em, ya feel me? And they don't come knockin' even if someone wants t' try. Bootstraps all th' way. None of this wild, 'I gotta go runnin' and save th' ass of my spoiled great-great-hundred times-grandkid who's a total prick and a plain fool.' Plus, who wants t' channel the memory of other people's shitty former lives, when ya got your own to handle?" Both these versions could happen, the views from Branton and Iris, and Irsa herself. As she once told Trey, all stories are true, and all stories are lies all at once.
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Branton grins at Irsa as he boards the rowboat for the descent "It works out the same. Personally I've got the power to call on Ancestors which as I'm told is odd for kinfolk. And kind of heretical if I call on the spirits of Tribes other than my own. Which I technically can but this...it was a silver fang theurge, he had some pretty firm ideas on what was and wasn't heresy."
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Mercy lets the others banter a bit while she's keeping a careful watch under them on the way down, hand on the emergency break to help control the speed. Still, it is *dark* down there, but of course it is, it's literally the place where the sun don't shine. It's SO dark, in fact, that she says, "Oh shit!" and has to slam on the breaks when she notices a little bit of ground contour that says 'hey you're about to slam into the ground really hard'. A caaaaareful release of the break, and the boat lowers the last few feet to thunk into the sand. It takes a minute for the eyes to adjust to this much darkness, even up on the boat they still had the ambient glow from the sliver of the light side still visible, a little smidgin of light in the gloom, but here there's no such thing. Once eyes DO adjust, it turns out the place isn't really black at all, but blended shades of blue and purple and black, a world caught in deepest twilight. It's so, so quiet here. It's quiet on the light side too, but *having* light makes the lack of nature sounds less weird. Here, with no light and no sound, it's almost unnerving at first. But this isn't an evil place, it's a place of peace, solitude, or the gentleness of sleep. The stars shine in the sky, the boat's hull all but invisible, the ground is dusty and dry, and the wildlife here is shy, dark in color and blends with the shadows of craters and valleys. Off in the near distance is a very vaguely shining webby construct with a single, tiny blinky light.
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Trey says, “That is damned handy," he says, and then he looks thoughtful. "Now I'm kinda wondering about my own ancestors." He doesn't chase that thread further, though, as they land. His booted feet sink into the powdery silt of the ground as he climbs out, then looks up. First his eyes seek the stars, and then, once his eyes adjust, he looks toward the construct off in the distance. "Is that a lighthouse?"”
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Irsa winces, picturing being forced to deal with a snooty, entitled member of Gaia's Chosen Warriors. "Yeaah, I don't envy you none. Cool ability though, if you get someone that's chill all th' way around." She follows Trey gaze to that tiny light in the near distance. "Beacon of some sort, mebbe. But th' spirits here don't need that kinda thing. They get around just fine."
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Branton grins at Irsa "Sometime remind me to tell you the story of how Elder Farshi's Grand Klaive got made. It’s related I promise." Looking around he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly "It’s so calm here. I like it." And when the light is pointed out of course he looks, he can't be the only glowy thing around here.
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"Let's go find out!" Mercy says with excited enthusiasm about Something Strange And Unknown in her field of view. Shouldering her pack, she starts off towards the umbral reflection, and chatters on the way, but quietly. "While we're walking, lemme turn us back to Moonshadows. "Now, we cant summon ours, because it's rude and they're shy. But they're very empathetic creatures, and because they're *your* Moonshadows, you can still draw them to you here. So just think about them, reach out with your sense of wonder and want of companionship. They already know we're here, but just like with saving our lives, we need to invite their presence. They'll show up if and when they feel comfortable."
Getting closer to the construct, it's not a big huge thing, it's about the size of an apartment, a single story semi domed umbral reflection of a physical world building. A scant few pattern spiders travel across its webs, dutifully repairing strands and keeping this side as well maintained as whoever keeps the physical side maintained.
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Trey is gazing about him, focused on his moonshadow, and finally letting his gaze come to rest on the web-covered building. "What *is* that place...?" he wonders aloud, trying to regain his sense of wonder and compassion to invite the Aenema in, but his brain isn't quite cooperating.
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Branton is grinning broadly as he ambles next to his lady into the dark, as long as they're together he's confident they can handle anything. And then they draw closer to the building and he narrows his eyes in suspicion "Who are they do you think? Too many possible answers and a lot of them I don't really like."
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Irsa picks up her pack and begins to shift, taking on her wolf skin. She's in a brand new place in the Umbra for her, and nothing sounds finer than being able to run and see and smell all the wonders here. Her nose is firmly planted on the ground as the group travels, though her head tilts up from time to time to listen and look around. >> Strange that the ape-den is there. Did you not tell me once that the Worldbreakers can lair here? << she asks Mercy and Branton. Those pattern spiders are getting the serious eye from her. >> Those did not wander here on their own. <<
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Bones snap and break, shifting and warping into a new form, as the creature before you becomes a ragged brown wolf.
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Trey mmms and watches Irsa shift. He frowns and tells Irsa, "They can, in theory, but I think they tend to be in the High Umbra more. Still..." He narrows his eyes and sighs, taking a moment to shift up to his Lynxy sokto form, to get some better senses on the subject (and look a little more imposing). "Those pattern spiders don't belong, I agree."
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"I have no idea!" Mercy says, and of course sounds thrilled to not know the answers to something. She smashes her face up against a clearer type of web that's in the shape of a window, looking around the webby insides and having a gander at stuff. She's looking at the physical world too, cause her eyes are all fucked up like Branton's and she can’t *not* see it. "People on the moon!" There's two doorways sticking out of the place, entrances into air locks, but surprisingly they're quite locked. Which is unusual, rapidly changing things like locks don't always work in the umbra, even electronic ones, they just sort of default to 'lock is spider', and the spider mostly just observes one layer's worth of task. Unless you get a really complicated lock. During your explorations, each person may suddenly come to realize that they're not alone. One by one, exceptionally dark blue spirits appear, one per person. Identical to the Lunes in appearance, they're dark ribbons of blue, or sometimes very dark blue robed women. They're absolutely silent, and they *feel* shy, communicating only empathically. Words not required.
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice considers the lock. "These were *made* to work in space. The only ones among the mages that I know of who do that are the Sons of Ether and the Void Engineers. One might be friendly. The other... not." He stops, and falls silent, trying to seek out of there's actually anyone inside. When the dark-blue shape manifests nearby, he doesn't look at it directly, or turn, or gesture; he chooses to send a wave of empathic welcome, as best he can, accompanied by a low purr.
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Ragged Brown Wolf joins her mentor in smooshing her muzzle against the window-web, huffing and steaming up all the strands. >> Apes are here, truly? << She adjusts her sight to peek out from the Umbra, ears flicking backwards at what greets her in the Tellurian. Stepping sideways would be deadly here, so she's definitely not gonna do that and freeze in actual space. She lets out a low whine of greeting as the spirits approach, stepping forwards to greet hers directly. >> Well met! It is good to see and smell you. I like your fur-bark, << she tells the robed women she's spotted. This is definitely wolf for 'robe'.
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Branton nods and considers what Trey said "I've done business with the Etherites before, I don't know if I think we're that lucky. They might be able to see us already..." as Branton trails off he takes out a round stone with a hole in the middle tied on a cord. He's using it as a pendulum and he starts muttering.
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Ragged Brown Wolf rears back her head and sneezes. >> There are ape smells here, in Spirit. Very recent, around here. << She steps over to the strongest source she can find and begins pawing lightly at the surface. Maybe the humans buried something here? Who knows, they're very strange.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Gnosis(5) (5 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.
1 +8 +9 +9 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice crouches next to where Irsa paws at the shifting soil, looking it over with a curious air. He opens his mouth in the padaa, working to take in the flavor-scent with his Jacobsen's organ and taste-smell it for any more details. (activated Heightened Senses.)
You lose one Gnosis
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The scent is... Well, there's a whole water conservation thing when you're off planet, so they don't smell... great. Sure, if they're mages then they can like mystically bathe themselves, but you know how dudes can get super nose blind when they're stuck in a small space together for a long time. Some things even magic cant fix. This on its own tells you that whoever was out here wasn't wearing a space suit, indicating familiarity with the Aetherial and its laws, and a willingness to use both layers of the sphere.
Pawing in the ground produces treasure. It's not gold or diamonds, it's actually just a little sample case filled with some choice rock samples. But unless you're into geology or anything, they're just rocks to you. Though, rocks worth hiding instead of taking inside.
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Ragged Brown Wolf perks up her ears and noses over the case's contents once it’s open. She's mostly concerned that they might be tainted at first, but once that fear is allayed, she pokes at the rocks with a forepaw. >> Space rocks! But why did they keep them? There are rocks everywhere here. <<
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Branton frowns as he does his magic detection spells and analysis "Their magic doesn't seem super malevolent. But something else is...approaching and I don't think its happy or friendly." Then to Irsa "If someone hid samples rather than bringing them in that says to me that there's division in the ranks so we need to be even more careful but someone upset something I think."
Branton also hmmms "And if someone was out here without a suit they weren't Technocracy. Or at least not Main branch. Their orthodoxy holds that the umbra is a hostile alien environment. So if this is a Void Engineer base it’s got an infiltrator. Could be a rogue planning on defecting to the Traditions or...something worse."
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At around the same time that Branton speaks up, Mercy starts to look around with the 'my spidey sense is going off' expression of alarm and puzzlement. It doesn't exactly tell her where danger is at, after all. There's some buzz inside the building as well, for those that are looking in through a window at the physical world. Obviously they can’t be heard, but their body language tells a story. Oh hey, the thing is doing something! Hooray! ... Oh shit. Should the thing be doing that? Oh shit, no, no no no, quick, do the emergency stuff! The pair double check some of their scientific panels and screens, and there's a SLIGHT relief on their faces as they run out of sight to grab stuff.
A few seconds later, the umbral air lock door hisses and pops open, admitting a couple dudes in space pajamas (uniforms, but come on, sci fi space dudes always look like they're in their jammies). "...Who the hell are you?!" one blurts as they skid to a stop in the dust outside their automatically closing door.
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice hrms and perks up as Irsa digs out the rock case. "Maybe they're special. Or -- yeah, what Branton said, someone's hiding them from their own people. And yeah -- they would 100 percent be in a suit because paradigm." It makes sense, and he nods. Then they're spotted (not like they were trying to be subtle) and the sokto-form lynx smiles at the pajamed fellows. "Could ask you the same question, ya know..."
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Ragged Brown Wolf does not even question Branton, at all. Unless someone raises an objection, she snaps the case closed with a poke of her muzzle and swiftly covers it with earth just like she found it. Juuust in time for Weird Science Dudes to turn up! She's not saying a damn thing yet, she knows nada about mages and definitely nothing about these two.
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Branton looks between his companions in their forms and the human mages "I can explain though that'll require ya all getting cool with a bunch of stuff real fast. And answering two important questions of ours- Etherites or Engineers? And What did one of you upset because something is building up to my energy readings and that doesn't just happen."
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Trey is the one that gets the most alarmed look, and then Irsa, but Trey get's like... 15 percent more suspicion and a bit of the ol hand drifting towards the laser pistols on their hip. But they don't draw, they're just... paranoid. But they're also in a rush, and since no one has immediately leapt to kill them, they use that four or five seconds of awkward pause to consider their options. "Nope, no time." one of them decides, shaking his head, and then rushes out to go fiddle with some panel hidden between some rocks a ways away. Lights flare up in a blue circle like a landing pad. Up in the dark sky, flickering into view as if unsure of which plane it wants to be present in, some kind of rocket propelled *thing* appears and is heading right for them. Thrusters are going off madly and the thing shuddering and jerking alarmingly, the landscape lights up and sends the local darkness attuned spirit life into hiding as it prepares for a very hard, very ungainly landing.
The remaining Space Dude takes his eyes off the group to stare with worry at the thing coming down, "Etherite. I don't think that's our replacements, Dave's a *much better pilot than that.*" he answers distractedly. "Weeeeeeee should take cover." he decides, and runs around the side to use the web construct as a shield.
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Ragged Brown Wolf utters a low growl and darts for cover. Stupid Mages. The group's wandered into the wrong bar, and this time it's not filled with vampires in Mexico. >> I can call on Fog, but I will be the only one able to see. And it will frighten you and sap your wills -- you are not pack, << she rumbles at the others.
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Must be all the teefies. Trey looks up just as the others do, and says, "Well, shit," the sibilants a little extra SSSey as he comments, motioning the others back from the lit up... landing pad? Looks like it. "Well, fuck," he says, tugging the others back if they're not yet moving under their own power, getting out of the landing radius.
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The first guy runs as fast as he can back towards the construct. The thing does its best to slow down, but much like Mercy working the row boat, the ground does just sort of... happen. The lights are helpful but there's very, *very* little to provide locational context, and if you miss those scant clues-
BOOOOOOOOOOM! The moon bongs like a gong as this bigass thing crashes into it, shaking the ground like an intense earthquake. A massive dust cloud is shot out in every direction, but hooray for those that made it to cover! Boo for Other Space Guy, he goes flying past the building on the shock wave, Wilhelm screaming the whole way.
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Branton nods at the mention of Etherites as he dives for cover "I've worked with your group before, and I have the Herald out of Prospect on speed dial. For now though we'll assume that whatever the heck that is..." Branton draws a carved wooden knife from one of his belt pouches "Is not friendly. Is it protected from lightning strikes do you think? This might get more than a little vulgar."
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Mercy's Messenger rolls Dexterity + Athletics vs 6 for 5 successes.
2 3 3 5 +7 +7 +8 +9 +9
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<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Branton rolls Dexterity + Athletics vs 6 for 3 successes.
1 2 2 2 3 5 +7 +8 +9 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Dexterity(6) + Athletics(1) (7 dice) vs 6 for 4 successes.
3 4 5 +6 +7 +8 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Ragged Brown Wolf rolls Dexterity + Athletics vs 4 for 3 successes.
1 1 1 3 +4 +7 +7 9 9 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Dexterity(6) + Athletics(1) (7 dice) vs 7 for 2 successes.
1 2 5 6 +7 +10 10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls 1 (1 dice) vs 6 for -1 successes.
-1
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<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Stamina(4) (4 dice) vs 6 for 3 successes.
4 +7 +7 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice makes an easy escape from the area of effect before it hits -- he's safe, but notices one of the Etherites going flying, so he leaps up like a pro ballplayer and snags the fellow by the leg, bringing him down to earth in a two-person tumble, pajama dude and catmandude, out of the range of the quake but... exposed. "Shit," Trey mutters. "YOu okay?"
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As the dust settles, the silence of the moon returns but for the ringing in your ears and the soft tinkle of moon dust settling back down. A few spiders were blown away, and those that remain begin a rapid mending of the station. The umbral side was damaged for certain, and they'll fix it up right as rain, but in the material world, there's a spot in the habitat's hull that will become a stress fracture one day.
For those brave enough to look around their webby shield, it's... it's not a rocket, or at least nothing like NASA ever made. It's blocky and metalic, patterned in overlapping plates of dull metal. With a clunk and a wsssssssh it begins to move... to... transform... unfolding itself into a blocky metal man. As it straightens up, it's at least as tall as a six story building. Its mouth looks rather like a fuckoff huge speaker, and it in fact acts like one too, a *very* loud male voice yells, "VANCOME YOU THIEVING FUCKING BASTARD! I TOLD YOU I'D GET YOU!"
Also, the space dude DID hear Branton's question earlier, but a lot's been happening and he just hasn't had time to answer, and now he's looking at a giant robot with confused horror on his face.
Over at Trey and the other space dude, that guy stands with some help from the Bastet and says, "Yeah I'm fine, I'm... oh. Shit." with a look towards the robot.
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Ragged Brown Wolf flattens herself against the ground as the impact hits, tamping her paws down to avoid being blasted away. She risks a quick peek around the edge of the webbing to get a look at the monstrosity that's thundered into the ground. >> Dung, << she growls, wolfishly echoing the humans. >> That thing wants the ape-log.<< Clearly this is wolf for 'case'. >> Will he leave if it is given to him? <<
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice stares. "I've watched enough anime to know this is NOT GOOD because I DON'T HAVE ONE! SHIT!" A giant robot. On the nice quiet moon? Argggh, that really chaps his hide! "HEY!" He calls out to the dude in the mecha. "CAN'T WE SETTLE THIS WITH A DANCE FIGHT?"
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Branton looks at the construct unfolding before them and clears his throat as he translates for Irsa and asks the Etherites "We found a sample case buried outside your building is that what whoever this is wants? Will they leave if they get it? Should they get it? My friend with the incredibly distracting pants won't be able to confuse it forever."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
The guy that's with Irsa, Branton and Iris tells Branton in an excitedly terrified way, "I have no idea! Who *is* that?? I've only been here for six months, I've *never* seen a giant robot land here, just the transport shuttle for rotations out! I'm Kelvin, by the way. Steve Kelvin. That's Ron Vancome over there." he points at the dude Trey saved.
The giant robot turns and stomps forwards a bit, and it's moving a bit jankily, either it's got some malfunctions or the operator is drunk. Possibly both. "OH I GOT MOVES FOR DAYS, VANCOME, YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE ME YOU NERDY LITTLE SHIT?" Naturally, from this distance, he's not able to distinguish who yelled, but he's pretty sure it's that guy that he definitely hates that's trying very hard to hide behind Trey.
You lose one Gnosis
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Manipulation(0) + Expression(2) (2 dice) vs 6 for 2 successes.
+6 +7
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<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Mercy's Messenger rolls 8 vs 9 for 1 successes.
2 2 2 2 4 7 7 +9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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This guy in his bigass janky robot thinks he can outdance the catman? Oh, it's ON for Trey; he gets the Dancin' Pants going, and then... it's a performance to end no other, a mix of yowls and singing to the tune of the Macarena to begin the party, with the matching dance, excessive hipswivels courtesy of the nearly-boneless Sokto grace.
Ragged Brown Wolf loses one Willpower
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Ragged Brown Wolf rolls Dexterity + Stealth vs 5 for 6 successes.
1 3 +5 +6 +7 +8 +9 +9 10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Branton nods at Steve "Good to meet you Steve. Now before I resort to violence I need Ron to answer some questions while his acquaintance is not shooting at us." And Branton Beckons Ron to join him and Steven in cover.
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Ragged Brown Wolf lets out a frustrated growl. While that robot is distracted by that uberflashy Lynx dude, she sneaks out to nab the case, as silently and as swiftly as a shadow. >> Here is what was stolen, << she growls when she returns to the group. >> I have an idea. Tell the angry one that the case is in the broken ape-den, that hisses out air. He might be stupid enough to go in and check, and he can be trapped inside. <<
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"OH. OH IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?" yells the giant robot. Perfect super villain this guy is not. Sure, he's got the mech thing down, but he's *way* too easily distracted from his mission to magnificently murder Vancome. Which may still happen, mind you! I mean sure the robot is putting one giant hand behind its head, another on its hip and doing a thrust and grind thing, and sure it moves its feet with an earth shaking beat, but it might still go on a rampage. And it might be a sore loser. From the loud speaker mouth comes, 'UGH UGH YEAH, CHECK THAT OUT." Can you just imagine this little normal sized mage in there on a Dance Dance Revolution pad, hooked up to the limb steering mechanisms right now? Cause if so, you're doing it right.
Vancome waits until the robot is turning in a circle to run for his life back towards the habitat and throw himself bodily into the group.
Meanwhile, Irsa receives item 'Box of Rocks' in her player inventory. The description reads, 'It's dumber than a box of rocks'.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Dexterity(6) + Expression(2) (8 dice) vs 6 for 2 successes.
1 3 3 3 4 +7 +9 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice thinks Vancome seeking the safety of others while his mad competitor is distracted is a good idea -- and for his next motion he holds up a hand in a stop gesture toward the robot. "Not bad, but U CAN'T TOUCH THIS!"
And he sings the music parts, chants the 'Can't touch this' part, and actually attempts the Hammer dance, sidesteps and all. "CAN'T TOUCH THIS!"
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Branton grins at Ron when he comes over, going for a disarming smile "So Ron....who's your friend? Is it the sample case we found that they want? Should they get it back? If I'm going to zap the ever loving crap out of someone I'd really prefer they deserve it."
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"Uh... No one?" Fuck, even Ron knows that was zero percent believable, and once he gets a few 'wtf did you *do*' type stares, he rolls his eyes and groans, giving up, "The guy Steve replaced! Fuckin... *Hancock*." He says the name the same way one would speak the name of their worst housemate from college. "The arrogant prick! It's all mine mine mine! Samples, research, papers, he didn't even *write* his last thesis himself!" He grumbles under his breath and eyes the case. "Yeeeeees, fucking prick." Not Branton, he's talking about Hancock. "He'd have taken every last one and completely screwed me! Then I have to somehow explain how I'm *not* a lazy waste of space without proof!"
Over on the dance floor, the robot scoffs. "HA! YOU THINK YOU CAN MC ME? ...that's pretty good... BUT I GOT YOU!" The robot busts out some classic Michael Jackson movies, going up on tip toes for a second with a bit of rocket help before whipping his ankle up to slap hard enough to dent himself. Whoops.
And Iris is taking notes, just sitting on a rock nearby, totally absorbed with her paper and notebook, oblivious to being helpful or anything unless she's called upon.
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Mercy's Messenger rolls 6 vs 6 for 4 successes.
3 3 +6 +7 +7 +8
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls Dexterity(6) + Expression(2) (8 dice) vs 6 for 2 successes.
2 3 3 3 4 5 +10 +10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Treads-on-Thin-Ice rolls 2 (2 dice) vs 6 for 0 successes.
1 9
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Ragged Brown Wolf curls up her scarred muzzle, showing off all her teefies wrapped around the handle of the case. Don't get no crazy ideas there about trying to get it from her, Ron dude. That way lies biting. >> Does he lie? << she asks Branton. >> I have not learned the Gift to sense true things, and I am horrible with understanding apes. <<
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Treads-on-Thin-Ice snickers and says, "YOU CAN'T DANCE ON THAT!" Then his cockiness gets the better of him, because when he tries to go into a perfect Bee Gees moment his voice cracks to a yowl, and he slides into a spin. He recovers, of course, but now he's doing a frantic attempt to regain his cool. It comes, in time, but it takes a few iterations of pointed-finger-diagonal-motions before it's there again. "WHETHER YOU'RE A MECHA OR WHETHER YOU'RE A CATMAN YOU'RE STAYIN' ALIVE, STAYIN' ALIVE..."
<---======##==========[ Proving specialty for Branton ]===========##======--->
Status: APPROVED by DuckbilledPlatypus on Sun Apr 09 22:03:08 2023
EMPATHY: Discern Motivation
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Branton rolls Perception + Empathy vs 5 for 2 successes.
1 2 3 4 4 4 4 +8 +9 10
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
<---======##====================[ Dice Roll ]=====================##======--->
Branton rolls 1 vs 5 for 1 successes.
+8
<-------------=============++++++++++++++++++++++++=============------------->
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Branton looks to Steve for corroboration since Trey's invocation of the majestic Bee Gees is good for another couple moments at least "If we start swinging this Hancock's probably a dead man. Does that all track? Or does he at least deserve a beating?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Steve Kelvin looks open mouthed at Ron Vancome at this whole revelation, he doesn't look like he knew any of this. "Nah I got it." he says at Branton's question, and just punches his lab partner in the mouth. "You asshole, you could have at least *told* me there was a homicidal maniac that might attack us because you stole some *samples*!"
Ron, holding his jaw, yells at Steve, "I didn't steal his samples! They were *our* samples!" But with all the nuance to the situation, yeah, he kinda did steal them. Lie by omition for personal gain, at least. He 'uuuuuugh!'s with frustration and tells the unknown folk (Irsa-wolf and Branton) "Fine, fiiiine, werewolves. If you wanna go give the idiot in the giant robot the case, then fiiiiiiine. Do it." He's got a little bit of a whiny bitch streak to him.
"OH FUCK YEAH, I LOVE THIS TRACK!" shouts the giant, possibly drunk robot, who briefly forgets he's in a competition and just dances WITH Trey for a minute. Seriously though, who doesn't love the Beejees, and the altered lyrics make the robot laugh.
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice has now succeeded in making a not-enemy! The pants are victorious, and Trey's down with dancing with the robot, singing, "THE MOON AIN'T BREAKING, SO NOW WE'RE ALL MAKIN' GOOD WITH THE STAYIN' ALIVE, AH AH AH AH STAYIN' ALIVE..." Yes, he keeps making up more relevant lyrics, because hey, Mecha Dude is actually down with it, and so far, nobody's dying. He flicks a pair of thumbs-up at a turn by the Mecha and says, "SMOOTH!"
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Ragged Brown Wolf growls in disgust at Steve. >> The Worldbreaker in the stone monster is stupid with drink-berries, << she tells Branton. >> And this one here is stupid-stupid. Why fight, when we can trick? Say the ape-log is in the hissing ape den. Either he will go inside to get it, or punch it and it will explode. << Options are always good things!
Ragged Brown Wolf adds, >> Or we can give it back, and say we have beaten up the stupid-stupid one. Perhaps the angry one will laugh and leave.<<
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Branton chuckles at Ron "Who said we were werewolves. I'm not." is more than happy to leave the internal discipline of Etherites to the Etherites and he looks to wolf-Irsa (without a trace of irony, even though he just denied being a werewolf) since she has the case "While Ron might deserve that I don't think Steve does, unless you feel pretty strongly otherwise I say we give it back. Do you want to handle the transfer or should I?"
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Ragged Brown Wolf has confused the two men, derp! >> No, he does not. I think you should speak and give it back, but I will go with you in case the angry one stays angry. <<
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ron makes a face at Branton when the guy isn't looking. Childish, but he's in a *mood*. He doesn't argue though, he seems resigned to losing his coolass samples and whatever prestige they might have brought him if it means he's not blown up or anything, and leave the deliverance of justice to Irsa and Branton.
"THANKS!" shouts the bot, "YOU KNOW I ACTUALLY TOOK SOME DANCE CLASSES IN HIGH SCHOOL, THEATER KID AND ALL THAT, BUT WHEN DO YOU EVER GET A CHANCE TO- HEY WAIT A MINUTE!" Ah crap, he remembered why he's here. The giant robot stops its dancing and puts its hands on its hips. "SERIOUSLY, WHERE THE HELL IS RON?" The question is addressed to Trey, apparently, he's the only visible person aside from Iris, but she's not interacted with him, so Trey it is. "I KNOW HE DIDN'T SHIP OUT YET!"
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice grins up at the robot. "It shows, man, you got some moves on you." Uh oh, jig is up! He winces and says, "Behind you. But hey, we can settle this. right? I mean, we dance fought, man. It's just fair. What'd Ron do, anyway?" He looks over to the others, and winces. "We'll figure it all out."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Branton takes the case and walks out slowly to where he can be seen, with his wooden knife in one hand and the case in another "Ron's already been punched in the mouth once today by someone his own size but I have your samples here Doctor Hancock. Where would you like them?"
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Ragged Brown Wolf walks beside Branton when he makes his way out to the robot. She's stuck to wolf to avoid being identified by any Mages later, no way is she taking human skin now. If Hancock mistakes her for Branton's pet or dog familiar that's perfectly fine by her. She keeps watchful eyes, nose and ears open for sudden moves from the robot, or any signs of betrayal from the whiny Ron dude behind them.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"HE'S A THIEVING LITTLE BITCH THAT STOLE MY RARE LITHOPHILE ELEMENTS!" insists Hancock through the loud speaker of his giant stompy robot. When Branton steps out and starts forward, the robot gets a battle ready stance but um... The dude's walking all calm at him. "UH... HA.. HANG ON." He sounds like he just wasn't expecting this. Getting what he wants OR all these weirdos happening to be here. What a day. The robot straightens up and goes still, and there's a couple minutes where nothing happens at first. This gives Steve and Ron the chance to argue quietly behind the habitat, and for Trey to join Branton and Irsa-wolf if he'd like.
Soon enough, however, a door sized panel on the robot's left shin opens up and rolls out a little ramp. The guy that comes down out of this big Tokyo stomping beast is probably no older than his very early twenties, he's still got a little acne and everything. Hancock is short and skinny and wearing jeans and a teeshirt along with thick black glasses. "Is that them?" he asks, his voice a thousand times less impressive outside of the bot, and a bit nasaly.
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Treads-on-Thin-Ice whews surreptitiously and heads over to Branton and Irsa, then when the scientist comes out of the Mecha, Trey offers a crooked catgrin. "See, we got it all resolved," he tells Hancock, holding his hands apart in a 'voila!' gesture. Well, technically, Branton and Irsa did, but hey, he did his part, too. "Check them for yourself," he offers, hoping that they are, in fact, the elements. "Our research is into spatial and spiritual matters, not matter composition." He's conversant enough to pass himself off as a friend, maybe a consor. Even as a catmandude.
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>> Oh, he is my age, << Hammer-Tooth remarks, sounding surprised. In her imagination Mages were at least in their late thirties. She noses Branton's hands, doing her best to appear non-threatening.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Branton nods at Hancock and passes the case over "We found it buried outside the base here, our first clue that someone knew they'd done something wrong. I'd think the ethics committee is going to be very interested in all this but that's none of our affair. I'm just glad I didn't have to test your Mecha-kaiju's surge protectors, it does have some right?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hancock goes for the case immediately, and blows a quick raspberry about the ethics committee. He is the *worst* kind of nerd, the ultra arrogant kind that thinks the rules don't apply to him cause he's brilliant. Oh what rude awakenings will happen for this guy in the future. But, he takes the case and opens it up, rummaging around inside and doing a bit of inventory on what's there. "Here." he says, and offers Branton payment for the group's services in both mediation and loot retrieval. He'd have preferred to kill Ron, but this works too. "Right, later!" he says, turns, and just starts right back up the ramp into the bot.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Treads-on-Thin-Ice blinks in surprise -- a reward, he wasn't expecting. He was just hoping for a peaceful resolution. Of course, he has no idea what it is. "Take care!" He waves and mutters under his breath, "I want that mecha, damnit."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ragged Brown Wolf warbles a canine farewell. She's heard plenty of huskies talking, she's that got harmless comedy on lock. >> Oh, pretty, << she remarks. >> Should we leave here, and help them fix their hissing ape-lair? The impact broke something. <<
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Branton accepts the payment and waves farewell "We can check in with Steve see if he needs a hand with repairs but let’s not press. We're probably just going to go." And he heads over to check back in with Steve "Well that went better than I expected...need a hand patching up?"
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Yeah, *Ron*, do we need any help patching up?" mirrors Steve angrily at his lab partner. Ron sighs VERY dramatically, "Nooooo, I'll fix it..." Shoulders slumped in defeat and frustration, he stalks back through the umbra-to-physical airlock and goes to assess damage and figure out repairs. He offers out a hand to everyone, or at least towards Irsa's snoot for sniffing. "Thanks again, really. I'm not sure that would have gone well if you hadn't been... spying or whatever you were doing. So, thanks."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Treads-on-Thin-Ice mmms thoughtfully at Branton's statement. "Might not be a bad idea." One more comment, under his breath: "Amazes me to this day that mages are just as petty as everyone else. All that power, you'd think they get past it, mmm?" He shrugs and offers a toothy smile as Branton asks if they need help. Whew. "We were just *exploring*," he counters, with a sigh. "Not spying."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Ragged Brown Wolf playfully pokes Trey with her snout before joining Branton. Sure, he's bad-ass, and Steve seems like a nice guy. Ron though! She's got her eyes on that guy, juuuuust in case. Branton is wearing super-slick threads, no reason he needs to get them dirty thanks to stupid-stupid over there. She minds her manners, though, and graciously sniffs Ron's hand. >> He smells like rock dust and cheese-things, << she confides to the others.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Branton grins at Steve as he nods in agreement with Trey and gives Irsa-wolf scritches "We were actually exploring on unrelated research, saw lights where we weren't expecting any and came to investigate. You're welcome regardless, good luck with the rest of your research."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Iris hops off her rock at around the same time that Steve is going back into the habitat to help make sure nothing goes wrong. Meanwhile the robot blasts off, once again sending dust and debris around, but not as bad as before. Once it's free of the ground and up a little ways, it kicks on the thrusters and zooms off.
"Great job, guys!" Mercy says with a happy smile, "I'm glad we didn't choose violence today." Hippyyyyyyyy.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Treads-on-Thin-Ice tells Irsa, >>Oooh. I like cheese.<< The words come out a little weird from a cat-human hybrid mouth, but they're more or less intelligible. Looks like he's finally getting the hang of the language. Iris' happy remark makes him chuckle. "I had a chance... to dance! I gotta tell you, when you gave me these pants, I did *not* see all the possibilities, but I am beginning to, now!" He stretches a bit, and adds, "I need to work on some kind of music player that will work in the Umbra. And the Dreaming. I need a soundtrack for moments like these. Dance fights seem to be a win."
