A Hunting We Will Go (IC Thread)

[New Naggoroth]

Supposing that made it his turn next, Calvyn rose a cleared his throat. 'Don't stutter, and don't let your voice crack, damnit!' his thoughts screamed at him.

"My name is Calvyn Drakharn, of Greater House Drakharn," he announced, loud enough that he was heard by everyone. "Son of Casir and Aeselle Drakharn, and I'm here to learn hunting, in the traditional way of my mother's people."

'That wasn't so bad...' he thought, almost slumping back into his seat, exhaling a breath he didn't realize he was holding...

Scarlet was next, and she just grinned at Leo as she rose up out of the bucket seat. Naturally, she took the time to glance around first, and show off her dazzling smile. Of course, she'd never met a kzin before...

"And I am Scarlet Colthique-Drakharn, also of Greater House Drakharn," she paused, making sure everyone heard her, what with the air whistling through the cabin as they neared the ground, "Aeselle Drakharn is my mother too. As to who my daddy is and what he does, well, I'm sure some of you have heard of Magnus Hesche," she paused briefly, curious to see who would recognize that particular bit of name-dropping. "So, I'm here to teach my little brother how to hunt like a proper druchii highborne!"

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Selkies, Seelie Court .. definitely not human things, those. Still, she seemed so fragile, so in need of someone to protect her in spite of her little performance earlier. It certainly explained her otherworldly beauty, between fae and Roanian backgrounds, she couldn’t help be anything but beautiful.

Leonardo snorted derisively at the Roanian student’s continued rudeness, going so far as to comment loudly enough to be heard, but not so much as to truly derail any further introductions. “It’s a pity those puffed-up Roanian twats in the back didn’t seem to get the same intro we did,” he said idly to Scarlett after she sat down. “Something about ‘respecting one another’ and all that? Maybe he’ll see clear to having Oswald beat the concept into their thick skulls.”

He tried not to let the revelations about her parentage outwardly shake him, though his stomach did twinge a bit at the mention of her father. Everyone knew of Magnus Hesche. He hadn’t any idea the man had children on top of all his other exploits. That explained the difference in her and her brother’s names, at least. Adopted, then. He wasn’t sure how he felt about all of that, really.

She was hot. She liked to tease. And either one of her father figures was likely to cut short any entertainment that might be had rather abruptly. Perceptions of what sorts of mixes were appropriate were starting to bother him slightly. Then again, it wasn’t as though he was pondering marriage or the like. Her non-human background notwithstanding, dalliance there with the Devras mob boss’s son might not be smiled on too keenly.

If they found out, of course.

[Largent]

An almost unbearable knot of anxiety and nausea gripped Sage's stomach when he learned he would be presenting to the group. It wasn't the spotlight that bothered him. He felt at ease under scrutiny. In fact, he reveled in the spotlight. The realization that had cast Sage Simone out of his comfort zone was the knowledge that he would be revealing, to the group, the two bits of information his stand-off attitude had been put in place to conceal. My parents and why I'm here? Are you shitting me? Removing his sunglasses, hood, and cap in preparation for his turn to speak, he revealed his shockingly blue eyes for the first time. He pinched the bridge of his nose trying to comprehend how he could be so unlucky.

When it was his turn to speak, he brushed his mane from his face, fully revealing himself to the assembly. Being quite accustomed to having people look at him, his entire demeanor was quite noticeably different than it had been before. His posture impeccable, his lips curled into a warm smile, he introduced himself.

"My name is Sage Simone. My father is Chaim Simone." Perhaps a few recognized the name. Most probably did not. In an effort to avoid any future realizations he decided to just come out with it. "He used to go by 'Wicked Lester' Simone." Those amongst the group who considered themselves knowledgeable of modern music would recognize that name as belonging to the lead guitarist for a widely praised progressive rock group from twenty years prior. For those people, the people who immediately pictured a young man, coated in makeup, flicking his tongue, thrashing his head, and unleashing a slew of blazing guitar riffs, Sage offered a shrug and a slight grin as if to say, 'Yes, he's ridiculous, but he's my father.'

Sage continued, "I was sent here because my family stressed the importance of being extremely competent with a firearm from and early age, and because they felt they needed to keep me out of trouble." Sage said this with no smile nor trace of humor. This information had been demanded of him, he took no pleasure in revealing it, but he decided to be open and honest about it.

With that he returned to his seat and continued memorizing names and countries of birth. His glasses and cap remained at his side.

[Gehenna Tartarus]

If there was one thing about meeting new people in groups that Tia disliked the most, it was the fact that the people in charge like to break the ice with an introduction. She was grateful on that particular occasion that they merely had to give little more than a few sentences. Some people had to go to the extreme, but on the whole it was a pretty simple exercise that would be over in a few minutes.

As each of her companions got to her feet, she made a mental note of name and anything she thought was interesting, so mostly she just took a name. At the same time, she focused on the way they presented themselves, which spoke far more of the person than anything they said. She frowned at the interruption that was made during the Roanian’s introduction. There was a time and place for most things, and that was neither.

Once Sage had retaken his seat, the young Tartarian stood up and looked at the other’s in the shuttle as she spoke. “I am Tia Fitzsimmons and I come from the Empire of Tartarus. My father has been the Tartarian Ambassador to Roania for the last couple of years. I came on the trip, as my parents thought that it would be a good experience for me and would allow me to get to know more people while I am away from home.”

Feeling that she had said enough, she slipped back into her seat and waited for the next person to make their introduction. As she did, she made could not help thinking about the very mixed group that she was in and how they would gel in the next couple of weeks. She wondered how soon it would be before they decided to start shooting each other.

[Solont]

Ahhh, fresh air. James didn't particularly mind the sterile, recycled air of a spacecraft's life support system, but to him, there really was no substitute for that aromatic breeze one felt as they stepped outside after a long journey, be it an ocean breeze or the humid scent of an endless cycad forest. It certainly was different, like no place James had ever been before, and he could barely contain an excited smile. As the shuttle lurched to a halt, he leaned forward, running a hand through his short, slightly messy straight brown hair, and fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. With his conversation with Talia coming to a brief lull, he began to pay attention to the others as the pilot began to describe their accommodations. A big clearing, an electric fence to keep out the beasts, tents to sleep in, stars to sleep under, and a river to swim in. Hell, to James, it sounded like paradise, and it was rather unfortunate that one of the Roanian girls didn't seem to agree. He looked up from his hands as the Roanian pitched her fuss, and couldn't help but crack a wry smile and let out a tiny chuckle as Maryesselle, the waifish girl he'd previously dismissed as being too delicate to be real, tripped her up and sent her sprawling. “Didja see that?” He asked, leaning over to whisper into Talia's ear. Though still with an air of timidity about her, Maryesselle was definitely one to take note of, and James's respect for her doubled in that moment.

Ah well. Hopefully the other girl will loosen up and learn to have a good time, he thought to himself as Oswald's harsh rebuke sent the girl scurrying back to her seat. As the introductions began, James paid special attention to the others. He knew Talia, and he'd picked up a few names here and there, but he really wanted to get to know everyone. After all, he was going to be sharing a camp with them. Best to try and get to know eachother and get along, right?

Jameson had been ready to jump to his feet and launch straight into his boisterous introduction straight after Talia had finished and sat back down, but he hesitated for just a single moment, and lost his opportunity. The Roanian waif had jumped ahead of him in the introduction queue, and, after her short spiel, the others had simply carried on as though James hadn't even been there. Still, he couldn't exactly bring himself to be mad at Maryesselle. Probably just an innocent mistake, he rationalized. I shouldn't let initial impressions stick too hard. That Maryesselle girl has some spunk and a sense of humor. I think I'm going to like her, he thought. He casted a sidelong glance towards Talia, and saw that she was thinking along much the same lines.

Honestly, James was actually sort of relieved that his turn had been skipped. It gave him a chance to focus on his own introduction. He caught everyone's name and noted them, but their backgrounds, their parentage... it all meant gibberish to him. He had no idea what a Selkies was, or what the importance of 'House Drakharn' might be, or who Magnus Hesche or 'Wicked Lester' were. It all reminded him of just how much of a stranger he was to this world. It also made him keenly aware of just how important it was that he make a good first impression on everyone.

There was a pause in the conversation, and an audible silence fell across the room as Tia finished her introduction. James took a deep breath.

Alright, kiddo. Showtime...

He jumped to his feet and stood upon his seat, one leg hanging free as he steadied himself by gripping one of the handholds on the shuttle's ceiling, and, in a clear voice, began to speak.

“My name is Jameson Gesetz, but you, like all my friends, can all call me James” he said with a cocksure grin. He was putting as much effort as possible into making his thick accent sound gallant and dashing. He had an audience of lovely ladies to impress, after all. “My father was the late great Admiral Kaur Gesetz of the Solont Space Force, and my mother, God rest her soul, was the lovely and courageous Fiona Gesetz. My godfather is President Kurt Landrick, acting head of the Solontian Federal Government. But!” He raised a finger and gestured sharply. “Don't let that fool you, my friends! I'm no noble, nor a person of any great status! And while my godfather has ostensibly sent me here as a diplomatic gesture, I know the truth! I am not here as a diplomat. I'm here, for the same reason that all of you are,” He said, sweeping his arm across the room and looking at each and every one of them, then paused for a single dramatic beat. “Adventure!” he then boomed, pumping his fist! “Excitement! Danger! And maybe, just maybe, a little romance!” Picking a girl at random and settling upon Scarlette, he flashed a cocky smile and gave her a wink, before letting go of the handhold and hopping to the floor of the shuttle.

Let's see. What've I accomplished so far? They know my name, they know where I'm from, they know my parentage, and they probably think I'm overenthusiastic, full of myself, or that I try too hard. Mission accomplished.

With a satisfied nod, James sat back down and put his hands behind his head, looking completely relaxed. “And I don't know about you folk,” He said, still smiling that cocksure smile of his, “but I can't wait to get started.”

[Scolopendra]

While not entirely surprising given the circumstances, Oswald's abrupt departure to possibly knock some sense into the local servitor caste, even after the welcome distraction of the introductions, leaves Sunny in something of a thought-train lurch. Now, to most people, it is intuitively obvious upon observation what is going on between Oswald and the mewling felinoids. This is also intuitively obvious to the 'ret, but she honestly prefers to err on the side of beneficence and assume the best from people. The butler-like paid servant of his own free will has done his duty and suggested that a reward is in order; Oswald is simply going to make sure that this is the case. Yes, everything is sunshine and daffodils with her or, at the very least, it's all silver linings. While waiting for everyone to grab their things and disembark, Sunny relaxes with some meditations she picked up from her parents and waits contentedly for her turn.

Meanwhile, Kit tries to make idle chat with whatever catbat he's sitting next to while everyone is filtering out, but isn't making much progress. It seems that, in this case at least, Roanian prissiness and xenophobia trumps his natural gregariousness. She did make the mistake of commanding the 'tosh to open the window for her; normally he would've done so without delay, but a bit of proud stubbornness is in his genes from both contributors. "What's the magic word?"

"What?"

Chip just smiles, ears flapping, and repeats himself as warmly as ever. "What's the magic word? The one you say to get people to do something for you?"

"Open the window... please?"

"With pleasure!" And so he opens the window, his simple point being made. May not have made him a friend, thinking back on it, but it was a necessary reminder. And to think, all these people think they're so much better than everyone else by accident of birth? Bah. Not much of a way to meet the heroism of their ancestors, if heroes they ever were.

The kzinti, having window seats, are very polite and wait for most everyone else to get off first before extricating themselves and getting their gear. This causes them to miss any action outside, other than hearing any loud noises the others may make, which perks their ears and piques their interest but otherwise goes without comment. At a characteristic 'klunk' sound, Kit shakes his head and shifts his packframe on his shoulders enough so he can glance at the familiarly round bit of his mess kit. "Remind me, sis, why we packed these mess kits?"

"Be prepared, like Dad always says," the 'ret responds with enthusiasm, clipping the forward weight strap of her own backpack and making sure the load hasn't settled oddly during the trip. "They're perfectly good stew pots."

"Hrr, yes, but with this crowd..." Kit smirks.

"I don't wanna hear it, bro," Kat shakes her head, raising one hand while her ears flit, "I'm sure they're all wonderful people. Certainly they're at least proficient in weapons."

"I'm sure they all know which end goes where..." The 'tosh shakes his head. "Bah, I'm sounding like Dad. Let's get to it, then, shall we?"

They leave the shuttle together--well, as together as the cramped (to them) design allows--ducking under the door and flipping their BDU hats out of leg patch pockets and onto their heads with much too smooth a motion, the brims easily protecting their eyes from the sun as they look even more militaristic than previous. There are downsides to being Fleet brats; occasionally standing out in a crowd is one of them. Spotting something, Kat gets a look of pure glee and darts off--for a moment or two on all fours, but in a natural, fluid motion rather than something awkward--proving that the standard-issue modular kzin packframe is well-suited to its purpose.

Blinking for a moment, Kit sees that his sister is chasing some sort of brightly colored thing--no, the joke is too easy, I'm not gonna think it--flitting through the air here and there. His mind classifies it as a butterfly and he moves on down the ramp, shaking his head. It only figures. We go to an alien planet a brillion kilometers from home to hunt giant whatchamasaurs and the first thing she does is chase a butterfly. Looking around, he seeks out the artist kid from the shuttle; now that he'd be moving around and not drawing, he's fair game for conversation, since Chip doesn't interrupt artists while they're working. Like most Scolopendran kzinti, he approaches cautiously, as there's no need to scare anyone, and stops a polite distance away to prevent anyone from needing to crane any necks. "Hi, Alexander Harper!" The emphasis on the name is intrinsically respectful, rather than the sort of automation one gets from people who don't understand quite exactly what a name denotes. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" He scans the horizon to emphasize it, then smiles winningly, which is somewhat odd considering his muzzle's really not built for that sort of thing. "I couldn't help but notice you were drawing on the shuttle--are you looking forward to any new subjects while we're out here? My dad draws a little and I know he's quietly sensitive about it, so forgive me if I'm being too curious."

After a few moments, the 'ret comes bounding back up, hands cupped oddly. "Hey, bro! Look what I found!" She notes Alex with a smile and ears flapping under her camouflaged cover. "Oh, hi! You wanna see it too?" Lowering herself down a bit, she displays that in her hands she has a bug. Well, it's obviously not a bug, but it fills the same ecological niche as a flying insect. Vaguely lizard-like in appearance but with small fuzzy plates and compound eyes, the 'butterfly' has iridescent blue scales that throw light like the carapace of a jeweled dragonfly and has two sets of broad paddle-like wings decorated in swirls of colorful oranges and yellows, with a total wing area and span equivalent to a playing card. The 'ret has it pinned gently with thumb and forefinger placed on the critter's 'shoulders,' its four legs resting on the padded palm of her cupped hands. It's not trying--at least anymore--to escape, but is still very much alive.

Chip chuckles. "Behold my sister, for her interests are many but fleeting."

"It's not quite a butterfly, obviously, but the similarities are amazing," Sunny bubbles, ignoring the familial jab, "but see how the wings are all practically identical, rather than having two major and two minor wings? It may have evolved as a biplane before moving to a monoplane-like form. Since I found it, d'ya think I get to name it? I think I'll call it, hrrr,"--she thinks for a moment, even going so far as to gently bite her lower lip--"a Carnival Masquerade Jeweled Flugzard."

"'Carnival Masquerade?'"

"Look at the pattern on the wings; it looks kind of like a carnival mask, don't you think? Definite eyespots, and sort of feathery things radiating from them... could be mimicking some sort of bird analog, like how moths mimic owls in coloring." Kat tilts her hands slightly whilst Kat tilts his head one way, and then the other.

"Hurh. I see your point. 'Flugzard' is sort of an ugly name, though." He looks back to Alex. "Sorry about that. My twin is apparently, for the moment, an entomologist."

[Roania]

The Roanians had introduced themselves in short order, still slightly put out. The girl who Maryesselle tripped up had risen to her feet and announced herself as Lorelle. The other girl had proclaimed herself to be Alies, while Arcenar's two friends were Selevar and Tenetheren. The net result was that almost all of them had been roped into this by their parents, anxious for Casir's favor.

Arcenar had smiled slightly at everyone's introduction, his eyes tracing over the girls as they spoke, before he rose up at the last. "Alas, I always do hate to go last, especially after so many interesting people have spoken. I, myself, am no one of any importance. Merely Arcenar Ophar. My mother sent me here because, well, she can't stand us males, and I refused to allow her to... uh...well, never mind, so she wanted to get rid of me for a few weeks anyway. She probably hopes I'll get shot or something."

After the hunters had all filed out to the landing site, the shuttle began to warm up for take-off. Before it did, however, a hatch in the side popped open, and Casir's robotic personal assistant, DD-3421-A, floated out. "This unit will please have the attention of all organics in this unit's field of view." Unlike its far more famous cousin DD-2021C on Mars, the unit's gunmetal sheathing had been repainted to Drakharn's purple and green. It looked as absurd as what Casir had occasionally, when he and his family were alone, had referred to as 'That garish tea-towel,' the Drakharn banner. "Greetings, Master-Designated Calvyn and Master-Designate Scarlet. Master-Designate Aeselle and Prime-Master-Designate Patrician Drakharn advised this unit that you should wear scarfs should it be chilly, and not to go out at night, and to stay out of trouble as much as you can, and that this unit should not embarrass you by telling you this out loud." It blithely continued on."This unit is pleased to welcome all organics in the hunting trip to Nelesar Prime. It reminds you to be safe when handling equipment, to respect the environment, and to respect each other. This unit furthermore advises that it is a crime under Imperial Law Section A-5321B to remove native organic life from the continent without approval. The parental entities of all organics here have or should have signed request-forms."

"This unit advises that all organics designated as male and all organics designated as female should not attempt to enter into the sleeping areas of the organics grouped in the opposite fashion, and doing so will be punished in the manner Overseer-Designate Oswald views as fit." The robot hovered around for a few more minutes, clicking and whirring. "All luggage should be stowed under the provided campbeds in order to allow for free walking in the event of the emergency. Should luggage not fit, this unit advises it be provided to the felinoids for the purpose being stored elsewhere. This unit has been instructed that it would be appropriate to sign off with Happy Hunting before it provides speaking rights to Overseer-Designate Oswald. Happy Hunting." The robot floated back into its container.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Talia perked up as Sage made further explanation on his introduction. THAT was unexpected, to say the least. And he so didn’t look the part. Well, perhaps she did at that. After all, stage versus real life and such. Would make some sort of sense to want a bit of privacy when so much of your life was in the spotlight. He certainly didn’t seem terribly pleased at his reasons for being there.

She truly was starting to think she was one of the few actually wanting to be there, and who came from a relatively normal family. Normal of course being ‘you got up, you got ready, had breakfast, papa left for work, mama took care of the bambinos, activities varied during the day, dinner was on the table by the time papa got home, you socialized, you helped clean up, you had a lovely cappuccino, said your prayers, and went to bed’. Or some close approximation in any case.

Something like.

Tia seemed nice enough, but possibly a bit on the private side as well. In any case, so long as it seemed welcome, Talia tried to offer the others an encouraging smile if they happened to catch her eye, or a neutral look of ‘yes, I am paying attention’ if it didn’t feel a smile was ‘right’ at the moment, though granted – that was mostly the Roanians who didn’t seem to like anyone else.

Jameson now, made her giggle. She’d nodded at his initial question, watching him out of the corner of her eye when she wasn’t busy watching the speakers make their introductions. He seemed permanently set in the ‘on’ position, full of boundless energy. His introduction didn’t do anything to change that particular impression.

She stifled a giggle as he jumped up on the chair. Quite the showman, there. She couldn’t help a little outburst of mirth when he proclaimed ‘Adventure!’, let alone the rest. It sounded like someone pushing the latest carnival ride, playing the crowd. Harmless, fun, and perhaps a little silly at that, but there was no malice in her continued giggling, in spite of efforts not to let it get out of control.

“Oh, I think you’re already off to a running start,” she murmured after he sat down, looking mighty pleased with himself.

Leo rolled his eyes at the spectacle, shaking his head, and then quietly gathering his belongings for disembarkation.

He had nodded respectfully to Tia. She seemed to have a more or less proper grasp of decorum. And as the daughter of an Ambassador, he was certain she’d had all the advantages of being brought up right, so to speak.

Of course, he offers to assist Scarlett, should she need any such assistance, however self-sufficient she appears to be. It would be rude not to, obviously. And whatever her parentage, she is a lady.

The bounding kzin doesn’t phase either one of the Dominioners, though it brings a smile to Talia’s face to see her classmate enjoying herself. Good people, in her opinion. You knew where you stood with that pair, and you could rely on them to treat you decently in return. They were, in her mind, a rather refreshing pair to have along. Now if only Leo would take the stick out of his backside, perhaps the entire group could be seen in a fairly positive light.

The Roanians, either one could take or leave for the most part. Neither much cared for the ‘high and mighty’ attitude, each for their own reasons. Leo considered the real possibility of coming to blows at one point or other. Talia on the other hand …

Arcenar Ophar. If he were actually being honest, which she half doubted – honestly, a parent hoping their kid would be shot? Surely some sort of sarcasm she didn’t grasp going on there. Her ears twitched at his accusations of not caring for males, and … what was that he’d stumbled over after all? Refused to allow what, now? That’d been rather … curious. Perhaps something to take up later. She couldn’t stand to see people trapped, especially through no fault of their own. He could just be yanking their collective chain, or maybe he really was miserable.

That seemed a damn shame.

Leonardo snorted softly at the robotic suggestion of sneaking into tents. How crass was that? If anything were to happen, which he doubted, surely some place more secluded would be in order. What was the fun of making out or anything else in a tent filled with the rest of the group?

Ugh. Voyeurism.

Talia once again had to stifle some giggles. Oh, that was something she’d surely be doing right there. Sneaking around in the middle of the night, dodging Oswald and seeing how many boys she could tease and leave.

Right. Put that way up at the top of my List Of Things To Do right there.

“Guess that means we’re not bunking together, boys,” she said wistfully to Jameson and Niall, winking to let them know she was only teasing.

[New Naggoroth]

The landing went nice and smoothly, barely a lurch as the shuttle settled on the soft grass. Scarlet thanked the gods for that; flying always put butterflies in her stomach, and the shuddering planes made on landing never sat well with her. Of course, letting any nervousness show was something she went to extreme lengths to prevent, so she happily accepted Leo's help, in order to keep her slightly weak knees a secret.

Like the kzin, the pair of druchii were dressed for utility, as their parents had insisted on it. Both siblings unlimbered their packs, though these were smaller and more compact then the bulky packframes. Spare clothes, personal equipment, and other sundries filled them, though Casir had made sure to inspect them to make sure there was nothing too sophisticated secreted away to make their trip too easy.

That hadn't stopped Scarlet from adding her liquor and wine later, however. The felinoids were most accomodating when credits found their way into the proper paws.

"Oh gods... he sent... it." Calvyn's voice dripped with venom as he grumbled, and watched the robotic assistant trundle out of it's box. None of it's line were particularly clever, and the poor boy could only turn a particular shade of crimson and wish he could dig himself a hole to hide in as it gave him a private parental warnings in front of the entire group. Scarlet just laughed; Thirty-four always craked her up. It was so easy to tinker with and make suggestions to, too. Especially if one wished to give her brother a bit of a hard time.

The annoucement about the seperate camps was not a big shock, at least to Scarlet, but like a certain someone that she gave a wink to as it was made, she had no intention of being caught in the tents doing anything of the sort. Not when there was so much space including in their encampment. Calvyn couldn't care less, as he had no intention of doing anything quite like that, mostly because neither the Roanian girls, nor any of the furry foreigners appealed to him. Unless Maryesselle had other ideas...

'Must... pay... attention...' he blinked, shaking his head as the robot finished and retreated. That done, the group slowly started to drift apart, as they all headed off towards their yurts...

[Roania]

"Uh... um... I'll talk to you later, Calvyn." Maryesselle murmured, her cheeks red as she heard the robot's little speech, as she picked up her small bag and dropped it around her shoulders. "I should probably go and set up." She smiled shyly at Calvyn, then the other boys in turn and then she took off after Talia and the other girls. She couldn't believe that anyone would think about sneaking into their tent like that, though she knew on an intellectual level it was true.

As she walked, she kicked a rock gently, embarrassed by... it wasn't a thought, so much as a general feeling that flickered across her mind when she thought about some of them. Calvyn, for instance. He had been very nice, and he was very sweet and handsome, and thinking about his smile brought a smile to her own lips. But then there was Leonardo, the way he had tensed and spoken to defend her, or Jameson, with his exciting way of speaking and his enthusiasm... all so different from home with the busy father and the brooding, sad figure of a mother who could rarely muster the pleasure to smile at her only child. Home... seeing the robot had jolted a thought back to her, and it temporarily sent all considerations of boys from her mind.

She sped up slightly, her slight frame moving fast even for a Roanian when she chose to exert herself, and she reached Talia's side almost silently enough to do her uncle proud. "Talia? You said your last name is Patroni? Is your uncle Ambassador Vasco?" She spoke quickly but clearly, her Ls rolling even more than usual for a Roanian, so Talia came out almost as a soft growl. "My father's said he's a very good ambassador and is responsible for half of our ambassador's repair costs."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Talia looked over at the girl and smiled, somewhat mischievously before shifting her pack so as better to carry on a conversation as they walked over to the girl’s yurt.

“Yeah, he is. Sorry about that – Zio Vasco has a way of doing his best to drive politicians to distraction. He’d be pleased to hear that, no doubt. A lot of fun, though once you get him out of the office. I wouldn’t be here if not for him, actually. Nice to meet you, by the way. Maryesselle, wasn’t it? You mentioned your dad was the Roanian Viceroy. Man, it’s got to be crazy dealing with all the politics up there all the time. It’s one of the reasons mama and papa only visit there – too ‘twitchy’, they call it. And I think a lot of that is just for me, wanting to make sure I have access to heritage and all that.”

She talks lightly, as if none of it is of much consequence or seriousness – which to her, it isn’t. Simply facts of life. Her adoption had always been known, and her parents very supportive of any sort of explorations she wanted to make into her background, after all. She’d grown up quite well-balanced and rounded out on account, and the confidence she exuded was all quite genuine.

In a lower voice, she added conspiratorially. “I wouldn’t let those others get to you. They’re just jealous anyway. Let ‘em sit and fuss while the rest of us have fun. No point in walking around like you’ve a board up your backside, neh? Besides, I saw that little trip on the shuttle. You can hold your own just fine.”

Clearly, she approved, and the smile and wink she offered Mary sealed it.

--- --- ---

Leonardo made his way with his own pack and belongings to the men’s yurt, picked out one of the cots, and began unpacking what he thought needed unpacking. Tucked inside was a note from his father, oddly enough. Nothing more than a reminder to behave, to have fun, and how proud he was of him going out like this. He smiled in spite of himself.

He and his father were very close. More even now that his grandfather had passed away. He’d meant the world to Leo, and his death still weighed rather heavily on him whenever he let himself think about it. Leo wasn’t quite sure what to make of the suggestion to ‘make some friends’ while on this excursion. Doubtless, his papa meant well, but still.

Folding the note back up, he tucked in down into a pocket, and finished storing his equipment under his camp bed. Time would tell in how he was going to get along with the others. Hopefully, in the case of some, they’d just leave well enough alone.

[Tanaara]

Fai' looked around and did a quick mental head count of the other ladies - seven besides herself. Maryesselle, a selkie, one of the changing Fae, always so fascinating, the Kzinti lass Sunny, and the two nose-in-the-air Roanians, as well the others- Talia, Tia, and Scarlet,that is such a pretty name Fai thought with a small, relieved, smile as she got all the names settled in her head.. .

She slid her bag under the cot. It had more inside than it looked like it did outside - it was Xa technology and very expensive, but her Guardian had insisted, and it was not as if the Estate could not afford it.

Fai' had chosen the the cot furthest from the ones chosen by the Roanian pair - Lorelle and Alies. It was too bad that there were only two tents currently. She had no desire to room with them at all. But apart from realizing that she on an almost instinctive level disliked them, she also realized that she was feeling wonderful, and filled with anticipation. Why this is doing me good already She grinned as the though flashed her mind. Relaxing and moving more loosely, her natural athletic grace showing she sauntered out of the tent to take a thorough look over of the camp.

^{Edited to correct to new information provided by our wonderful GM.}

[Gehenna Tartarus]

Stepping out of the shuttle, Tia took a moment to get her first view of her new home. She felt relieved that she had not just walked onto some hell planet. Her first impressions were decidedly better than she was expecting. Not that she really had any idea of what she was expecting, but she was sure that it would not be good. A wave of disappointment crept over her, as she was hoping that the story she relayed back to her parents on her return would have been totally negative. Still, she knew she could embellish the story to meet her needs.

The Tartarian followed the group as they headed to their respective yurts. She had not been the tiniest bit surprised at the announcement that both sexes were restricted from entering the other’s accommodation. Every group event she had attended while in Tartarus had the same restrictions and she really had not expected the Roanians to be any different. It just made the effort more challenging and entertaining. Not that breaking the rule was currently top of her list, but no one knew what would happen in the course of the trip.

Upon setting her gaze on the yurt, Tia was grateful that they were not going to be stuck in tents. A yurt was almost as good as a room. And it looked big enough that each of the girls would have enough space to call their own. She grinned as she thought about sharing a room with the other girls. Fortunately, growing up in a house – even if it was a large one – with four sisters meant that she was more than used to it.

She claimed her camp bed, once she was inside, shoving her belongings under it as instructed. The interior was given a quick examination and managed to score a healthy mark out of ten. Despite having spent the last hour or so mostly sitting down, she perched on the side of her bed. It seemed comfy enough.

Returning to her feet, she stretched her body, trying to get the kinks out of it. She really disliked sitting for long periods of time. Waiting around was not a favourite pastime of hers. In fact, she wanted to get on with exploring the camp, but did not want to jump the gun this early on, instead she gave her companions the once over, trying to judge this early on whether they would be friends or foes by the end of the hunting trip.

[Roania]

Maryesselle smiled back at Talia. "Thank you. But she didn't seem to approve all that much..." Maryesselle walked with Talia into the large yurt all the other girls were filing into and selected a bed near the nekogirl, smiling at Faileen as they passed her. "I was very surprised to see that DJ here, though." She blushed, her pale cheeks flushing remarkably redly. "A-and to be called that by him..." She closed her arms around her body, reflecting on being addressed as 'curvaecously cute.' Maybe Calvyn or the other boys would offer an opinion on if that was true or not. She flushed at that thought, but smiled at at Talia again. "Are you and Leonardo..." She wasn't sure how to finish that statement.

The two more stuck-up Roanian girls, meanwhile, had chosen a spot as far from the door as possible and were nervously looking at all the barbarians around them. Even Maryeselle and Scarlet seemed preferable to, say, the kzin, or Fai'leen.

In the boy's tent, Arcenar chose a campbed close to the door, throwing his pack underneath it with an easygoing shrug. "Some nice scenery on the planet, it seems. All sorts of hills and valleys. Oh, and the planet itself isn't bad." He sat on his bed and relaxed, looking around the room at all his yurtmates. "Nice of your father to invite us all along, Calvyn." Arcenar spoke to the Imperial Cousin with the ease of one who viewed himself as Calvyn's equal as the child of a Greater House, even though as a younger child, and a male, in House Ophar his status was much lower than Calvyn was in House Drakharn.


A gleaming silver spaceship slowly pulled onto the planet's surface where the shuttle had been mere moments before. It landed quietly, and the door opened. Someone was receiving a lecture. "I don't know how you did it, slumbering one, but it's neither safe or secure. Imagine if Casir had been pulled away on military business. What would you have done then?" There was a yawning reply. "That's neither here nor there. Now, come along." Nesar of Cheruv slowly stepped out of the ship, carrying a young woman by the waist in a fireman's carry. "Oswald, yes? I believe this belongs to you. She's marked down as Nicola on your briefing sheets." Her weight seemed not to phase the Roanian male at all as he dropped her to her feet. "Nicola, check in with Oswald, and then I have work to return to."

[Perimeter Defense]

There is something to be said about someone who can sleep through an Osmium-181 heavy metal concert. It is said that having done that, Nicola Eala would easily sleep through the literally thundering artillery strikes and cannon rounds of the Operation Rolling Thunder assault on the overrun colony of Lotha; single gunshots, rumbling shuttlecraft rides, or loud engines could do nothing to rouse a hibernating rock like her. Perhaps at close range, a rough jabbing or a bucketful of water could do the trick, and this she had received in earnest upon being discovered virtually dead in the shuttle shortly after all had departed.

She yawned in response to being awakened, yawned with most replies, and blinked sleepily as she was slung unceremoniously over Nesar's shoulder, brought to that man whom she vaguely recalled had given a short speech at Casir's yacht, and also discharged a live firearm at a vase, some fragments of which having fallen on her hair. "CONSTANTLY ALERT!", this man had said immediately after he fired, which is why she remembered that part, and that part alone of the speech. Well, that did well for her, in a state that could not be pierced by God's booming voice.

She rubbed her eyes as she was presented to the man of six feet and two inches, and gave an unenthusiastic "Hello" as she looked around. Yurts! Wide, efficient tents. Lots of space! With two, that probably meant segregation of sexes? But enough of that. The place itself seemed very nice; a lovely planet, or at least a lovely landing zone, sort of like the Reserve back home. Her eyes brightened up a little, sleep hopefully wiped from her eyes now.

[JenningsandRall]

Starting to gather up the few pens and pencils that he had been sketching with earlier, Alexander couldn’t help but let a small grin form as he slid his aged notebook into his backpack, looking forward to the three weeks ahead as he stowed away his writing utensils. As the others began to file out and enter the campsite, he quickly made his way to his feet and slung his pack over his shoulder, walking towards the forward door of the craft and stepping onto the surface of Nelesar Prime. The fact that he had just landed on a planet hundreds of light-years from his homeworld was almost too much for Alex to believe, leaving him with a smile as he began to make his way towards the campsite.

"Hi, Alexander Harper! Beautiful day, isn't it?"

As he turned around to the source of the voice, he was somewhat surprised to see Chip in full camouflage smiling back at him.

"I couldn't help but notice you were drawing on the shuttle--are you looking forward to any new subjects while we're out here? My dad draws a little and I know he's quietly sensitive about it, so forgive me if I'm being too curious."

The fact someone had noticed him earlier on the shuttle made him feel somewhat relieved as he found out he wasn’t invisible as he thought he was. Even though he knew some artists didn’t like talking about their work, Alex wasn’t really that phased about discussing his sketching with people, but before being able to respond, the two were interrupted by Sunny.

"Hey, bro! Look what I found!"

In her hands was something that could be vaguely described as a cross between a lizard and dragonfly, she must have caught it shortly after getting off the shuttle. As she went on to describe it, he was somewhat surprised at Sunny’s knowledge of Entomology; and although he was an artist, his background in ecology made thinking of what the insect-like organism’s role in the environment interesting.

"Sorry about that. My twin is apparently, for the moment, an entomologist."

“No, there’s no reason to apologize, the Flugzard is interesting.” He said, giving a smile to the girl.

[Skeelzania]

Raoul was sitting on his cot almost as soon as the protocol droid was finished playing nanny to the Elfs and warning them about trysts. He had claimed a bed near the center of the yurt, facing the door, and was now watching the others arrive. He didn’t intend to stay long; a structure like this would probably heat up somewhat uncomfortably. Beads of sweat were already running down the back of his neck. So, he gave his pack a final pat, shoved it beneath his cot, stood up and stretched. “Anyone asks, this one’s mine,” he announced. “Beautiful day like this, I don’t intend to spend it wrapped in beast skins. Going to take a walk ‘round this camp, then see if the Huntmaster has our weapons ready. I fancy a bit of target practice. See you on the range.”

Snatching his helmet up off the bed, he left the yurt with long confidant strides, brushing past anyone still entering. The clearing stretched out around him, and beyond that were the massive form of the cycads. The forest wasn’t quite looming over them, though; the cycads were too widely spaced for that. It was a curious landscape of massive plants separated by wide expanses with virtually zero ground cover. Topography and the use of the cycads themselves would be essential to sneaking up on one’s quarry. Raoul wondered if the cycads were capable of supporting sky boxes. Another thing to ask Oswald, he thought as he marched off to find the Huntmaster.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“Yeah, he’s really something, isn’t he?” Talia exclaimed, taking whichever bed nearest the door that was free and still had room for Maryesselle. She flopped down on it for a moment, testing it out, then looked over at the other girl with a grin. “I can see why he’d say that – you are rather pretty, you know.”

She blinked at the suggestion that she and Leo were involved, sitting up and kicking her pack under her bed. “What, Leo? And me?” Breaking into peals of giggles, she shook her head. “Oh my god, no – nothing like that. We go to the same school. Recognize the two Kzinti from there, too. They seem like nice folks, though I don’t know them well personally. Oh – something to remember there. When you smile at ‘em? Don’t show your teeth. It’s a kzin thing. Kinda rude, like a threat or challenge bit if I recall. Not that those two are likely to get pissy about it, from what I’ve seen. But still, s’ good to be polite to polite people.”

Sure, she was rambling a bit, but Maryesselle had asked, and Talia wasn’t the shy sort.

“Leo’s ok, I guess. Got a bit of a chip on his shoulder or something is all. Tends to be sorta serious. Does not take any crap about his family. Touchy git that way. Papa says there’s more to it than the corporation and all, and that its best not to get involved. I think he means they’re mob, but he’s never come right out and confirmed it. Papa doesn’t approve of that sort of thing, see.”

She halts her reveries, and gets up off the bed. “So how about you? What are you interested in, or like to do, or things like that? Want to go explore the compound a bit once your stuff’s stowed? Don’t have to mind, but might as well unless you had something else in mind.”

--- --- ---

Leonardo gives Raoul a brief nod in response to his cot claim, and murmurs a ‘Yeah, see you around,’ in response. The place didn’t look too bad really. Better than what he’d thought they were in for. He stretched, then walked outside as well, taking a look around at the alien landscape.

Hell of a place, this. Wonder what sorts of things we’re going to be hunting.

He casually strolled through the compound, taking notice of a girl he hadn’t seen before, talking with Oswald and that Roanian … who was that again? Nesar? Didn’t that little delicate girl have the same last name as he did? Uncle, maybe. Or some other relation in the family tree there. Meaning no doubt she was another he’d have to watch himself around.

Eh. It wasn’t as if he was here to find a girlfriend anyway. Or get all buddy-buddy with anyone in particular, in spite of his father’s admonitions. It was a test, to see how well he could handle himself, what sort of beasties he could bring down. To prove himself, one way or another. He understood his father thought of it as more than that, but … time would tell. Perhaps he was taking it too seriously. Some of the others seemed to be loosened up, having some fun. Some of them were just so … well, different. Alien. Not ‘normal’. Even the others from the Dominion weren’t fully human.

Leonardo glanced in the direction of the two Kzin and their new friend. Seemed they at least were getting on fine in any case. And over there, Talia and the pretty little girl from Mars. Now there was a mix he hadn’t expected. Then again, Talia was from there originally. And with her uncle’s position and all, perhaps that made sense after all.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he made his way over to the fence, and walked along it, peering out at the other side curiously.

[Scolopendra]

"All discoveries must be documented!" Sunny declares, glancing up at her brother who, with a theatrical sigh, pulls a small camera out of one of many, many pockets on the vest portion of his packframe. A quick click of a button latter, this great discovery of vital scientific import has been saved for the ages and the kzinret releases the flugzard with a flourish of her hands. "Fly free, little flugzard!"

The flugzard wafts around a bit in a butterfly fashion then lands on a nearby flower, probably quietly exhausted from the whole thing.

"Ooo, yurts!" Sunny exclaims boisterously. "Semi-monocoque construction! Grandma used to talk about those!" She bounds off, needing to poke the walls of the mobile hut to make sure it's the proper traditional kind with the expandable lattice or not.

"Aaand now she's an architect. Or a structural engineer. Or maybe a habitation anthropologist." Chip shrugs and chuckles before turning his attention fully on Alex. "Anyway, before we were interrupted--are you looking forward for some artistic inspiration from this trip? It seems like most are just here to either 'man up' or on the behest of their parents; it'd be nice to see a little variation in motivations, don't you think? Makes the group more interesting."

[Skeelzania]

“Not the most attractive landscape, is it?” Raoul said as he stepped up beside Leo, moving surprisingly quietly for one of his height. He clasped his hands behind his back, jerked his head so that his pith helmet provided more shade to his eyes, and frowned out through the fence. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it, myself. The cycads are reminiscent of Feerott, but there’s hardly any ground cover to speak of.”

The Skeelzanian nudged a fern-like plant that was mostly inside the perimeter, its outer arms a tad scorched by the fence. “The cycs don’t seem to allow enough nutrients for these things to truly fill in the gaps between them. And the brochure mentioned monsters over ten tons. I’m not too worried about something jumping me out of the bush. We’re going to die horribly to any monster, it’ll probably be some chittering nightmare crawling down the trunk of these overgrown palms.”

[Oyada]

He took his time on the brief journey back to the passenger compartment of the dropship. Partially this was because he wanted to give them the chance, now, to at least begin to get to know and understand one another, to let friendships and enmities surface as soon as possible, to bind those who would be together and allow him to see which would have to be separated and watched; and watched they would be. There was no room, even on such a sedate tramp around this comparatively civilised place, for internecine bickering. He had seen that sort of foolhardiness kill before now – although to this day, he remained unconvinced that whoever had let the wolf-like beast whose head now adorned the net bag hanging from his belt had done so accidentally. It had certainly seemed to make a bee-line for its victim with singular speed and precision, and Oswald had been quite surprised, despite his inexperience and ignorance, by the way the animal had totally ignored the remnants of their evening meal, carelessly thrown to one side. They had never done that again, either. And nor had the one who had so vehemently argued with the late James McManus ever hunted again. Claiming flashbacks and post-traumatic stress, he had quietly stopped hunting, and started buying the late James McManus’ properties and assets at a startlingly rapid rate, for a startlingly lower price than the late J. McManus would have demanded.

Oswald’s tarrying, likewise, was almost certainly not accidental. Well no, it was quite certainly not accidental. Part of the cause was the aforesaid practical purpose: to build cohesion, to change the youths in the shuttle bay from a group of individuals, unfamiliar and ill-at-ease in their new surroundings (with the possible exception of Sunny and her brother, both of whom were obviously better-equipped by nature than any other of the group for this sort of thing, a fact which Oswald envied at a level so low as almost to be subconscious) into a group of reasonably proficient hunters, who would then return to their happy and, often, very spoilt lives, to boast of their prowess in the way of the gun and of the strange, quaint, foreign man they met, and of how “uncool” he was. Oswald was familiar with the expression, perfectly so; there had been a brief period – the Age of the Mid-Life Crisis, era of sports cars, 1,000cc motorcycles and horrendous accidents for overweight men who’d realised just how much of their short and meagre lives they had already used up since the invention of the petrol engine – in which the term had bothered him, at some superficial level. But he had quickly realised that being “cool” was an adjective he would rather not have applied to him. “Cool”, in his mind, had become a condensation, right or wrong, of vapidity, of insipidness, of the laziness of mind and body that he had all his life despised, and been forced to despise against his own inbuilt flaws. The conviction that it was his duty to better himself, always to seek the next challenge and meet it, face to face, was no mere accident of birth, nor was it the idle pursuit of a man whose wealth made the day-to-day drudgery of work a choice. It was his driving force, the lesson rammed home time and again by father and mother and tutor: sic transit gloria mundi, fleeting are all worldly glories; more pertinently, so is the life that brings them. His existence was but a brief twitch in the endless slumbers of eternity. The need to use it, to take whatever worldly glories he could, powered him like a giant motor; the lazy, spoilt, self-congratulating rapscallions of “cool” could no more overcome that power than they could penetrate the conviction it generated, both that he was better than they and that their standards did not apply to him. Not a single living soul whose flesh and spirit lay anywhere above the vilest filth of the gutter could abase himself and abuse his mind with such feeble, such calamitously brain-rotting bunk as that imbecile with the orange hair made his stock-in trade. The fact of it was that the very presence of the man was a grotesque, farcical error, and Oswald wished to see as little of him as possible lest that error conspire with his temper to make it into an affront; a dangerous thing indeed.

Unfortunately, Oswald timed his return, leaning thoughtfully on a bulkhead accompanied by the inevitable pipe, to coincide precisely with Nial’s exposition. To his already grating low-level dislike of the man-boy’s ridiculous mannerisms and inane slang there was now added the further revelation that his suit – which was by no means the most bizarre piece of equipment he had seen, and which he knew from bitter experience would last about ten minutes on any one of the worlds in the Empire – was apparently a very capable skin-hung light-show and not a lot else. Typical enough… a zipper, a zeppy indeed. And to think this fair tongue produced ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day’! But the music (or what Nial would presumably have called music, anyway) was the final straw. Containing his instinctive urge to growl a warning there and then, he waited as the rest of the group completed their introductions. Much to his relief, not one of them chose to attempt to repeat the show until the ball found its way to Gesetz. The mockery was clearly evident, and it rankled. Young snipes such as he did not, in Oswald’s world, behave in such a way in front of their elders and betters, and get away with it. It wasn’t that Oswald was incapable of taking parody aimed at him; far from it. But parody had to be delivered by one whom he either liked or respected, and so far, although he did not actively dislike Jameson Gesetz, he had no reason whatsoever to respect him, any more than he had reason to respect any of the clutch of neophytes sitting in the noisy shuttle. Momentarily, he toyed with the idea of cutting the lad’s feet from beneath him there and then, only to reject the option in favour of seeing what developed. He didn’t know the lad, and so far he had done little to earn the hunter’s wrath. And he did know, though he would not yet allow it to be mentioned, that the boy had probably seen enough to warrant being given some leeway. He knew very little of the detail of Solont’s recent conflict, but he knew enough to imagine the sights the lad had had to see would affect the mind of much older, wiser and tougher men than he could possibly be. For now, he could leave well alone. For now.

It was all such a farce, he grumbled as the last of them rattled off their identities. The introductions were a business Oswald could well do without. He knew who they all were, well enough, and that was what counted for now. What would also count, in the long run, was who they were beneath their skins, furs, and preposterous suits. Judging by the behaviour of the Roanians thus far, they weren’t anything to write home about. The notable exception was Arcenar, who at least seemed to be both quiet and not as inherently arrogant and disdainful as the others of his kind with whom the party had been burdened; burdened was the only term for it, for Roanians’ dislike of physical activity, let alone of the sort of physical activity that demanded rough living in harsh, unpleasant conditions, was the stuff of legend. The legends, naturally, were exaggerated; Oswald knew that quite well, but knew enough of Roanians from experience to see its origins with sharp, sour clarity. Having sorted out the mess between Maryesselle and the other Roanian girl, Lorelle, whose name he had no doubt whatsoever he would have every cause to use with monotonous regularity during the days ahead, he decided to proceed forward and observe the conditions from above during the last few moments of their flight. It was better than having to preside over them, and probably better for them that he did not; or so he thought, wishfully or otherwise.

*****

The descent, now, was rapid, and Oswald was regretting silently his decision to watch it from the vantage point of the cockpit. The cameras below were providing imagery he could well do without; even the slow descent of the shuttle’s final approach was rather too much for him to be at ease, his mind shouting incessant alarms as the green carpet of forest below rushed up to meet him at tremendous speed and far less tremendous distance. The only reason he was determinedly steeling himself, looking at the onrushing floor that seemed bound, at any second, to smear them all into a messy but comradely paste of death, was the information the screen was overlaid with for his benefit. He ran it through his head, making a few specific calculations that he would need for later. At an ambient temperature of thirty centigrade in the sunlight, the shade temperature would be… perhaps twenty-four, maybe a little more. Humidity running at sixty-nine per cent. Each of them was going to need such-and-such a volume of water per day, so many tablets, so much purifying gear to produce so much per person. Food and water, vitamin supplements where necessary, the necessary substances to cater for special diets. It had all been worked out, of course, weeks in advance; Nelesar’s weather was predictable, the number of teens embarked and their likely consumption known and accounted for; the only thing that could be a cause for concern was the presence of a storm front which would sweep over them in around four days’ time. But still he preferred to calculate things himself, to keep his mind at work and to ensure no other damn fool had left him with a sticky wicket. It had happened to him before, and that had been enough. The story of the armidont was, of course, exciting for those who believed it (a surprising number didn’t, but he no longer found that particularly irritating. Its head was at home, and that was what counted), but had their fences been properly tested beforehand it would never have happened. Oswald’s leg bore only a slight scar; he knew, only too well, that he had only kept it by seconds, as it reminded him of its serendipitous existence by giving a slight twinge with every step he took toward the passenger area, pausing only to snatch up one of the ship’s intercom microphones and ask the Felinoids to begin unloading the cargo immediately upon landing, starting with crate number 013. He was very specific; it had to be 013. Around him, the shuttle finally touched the ground again and sat, panting the last dregs of exhaust from its suddenly silent engines in a weary, satisfied whine.

Oswald knew precisely what he was going to do now; his watch, ticking rhythmically away in his pocket, would hardly allow him to forget. He waited calmly at the rear of the shuttle as the teens descended into the suddenly intense sunlight, not a few seeming to find the transition from the little vessel’s comparatively gloomy innards somewhat jarring, for there was no substitute for bright, natural light. As “Sunny” left her seat, he quietly took up the long, slender case that contained the Nipper, and followed them unobtrusively into the sunlight, pausing to tilt his helmet forward a little and allow his thusly shadowed eyes time to accustom to the sudden influx of radiance. All around, he saw, was clear grass, almost resembling pasture; the grasses seemed almost stunted, as if the soil in which they had rooted were unwilling to support them. Yet the cycad forest loomed verdant, in a great unbroken wall stretching to the misty horizon in the distance. To the North a long, hulking rank of round-toothed hills kept dozing watch on the peaceful scene, while the gentle babbling of the little river that would be their source of water gradually permeated the shallow valley, scooped out of Nelesar’s solid rocks in frigid aeons past by long, smooth white tongues of glacial ice; nature came back to assert acoustic dominion, as the last of the ship’s belaboured whinnying finished rebounding from the slopes about the party and became lost amongst the carpet of green, replaced with the gentle twitter and squeak of insects and mammals, unseen and unknown but unheard nonetheless from the strange, swaying forest of frondy, fern-like plants. In the distance, Oswald could just see the slow, lazy glide of a gulica as it sought a perch in the bristling coat of branches, only to be dissuaded from its evident intent by the presence of something, lost to sight in the fertile curtain. The peace was only punctured by two things: the excited noises of the teens, which were inevitable – and the abrupt arrival of Nesar’s personal ship, which most certainly wasn’t. Somewhat taken aback, Oswald stared at the ship’s sleek form as it rested on its telescoping landing skids and no less a personage than Nesar Cheruv emerge from its confines, with what seemed to be some strange amalgam of a girl and a sloth in tow. All right, so it didn’t have quite so many claws as a sloth… but then again, a sloth would have considered this girl to be an idler. On his wrist, a small bell began to chime; it was already past the hour, he had yet to get his equipment unpacked, and now it seemed there would be yet further interruptions while he dealt with this errant lass. Well could he understand Nesar’s expression of long-suffering impatience as the girl blearily greeted him.

“Thank you, Master Cheruv”, Oswald rumbled quietly. “I’ll see to it that the requisites are done and dusted. Take your leave, old boy.” He need scarcely have worried; by the time he finished, Nesar was already making his way away from the place as swiftly as gravity and terrain would permit. Turning to Nicola’s diminutive form, he let loose a rare audible sigh through his beard, sending the hair of his moustache billowing outward. “Right, my dear young lady, I suggest that you might go and get yourself a place in the ladies’ tent” (yurt, rather, but who really cares overmuch for the name?) and see to your effects, hm? Then we shall sort out your presence with Patrician Drakharn when we check in tonight. Now be off! I have much I wish to do before we get started, and I have no doubt that you are equally eager to be about it!”

He darted off towards crate 013 quickly, taking another crate (which contained all of his pistol ammunition) and using it as a makeshift seat. The watch upon his wrist claimed that it was now twenty minutes past two, a claim which would soon be hopelessly inaccurate and untrustworthy. With great care, he reached around with a handy crowbar a panting Felinoid had dropped on one of the adjacent crates for his benefit and prised the lid off, rooting through the flood of Styrofoam peanuts that the crate had been carefully packed with, an expression of intense concentration set on his face; until he pulled from its innards a small and ingeniously self-stabilising table, the sort of table that could resist earthquakes, flood and impact damage, yet capriciously chose to collapse whenever called upon to bear the weight of anything heavier than a grape. Oswald had discovered this first-hand, not to the benefit of some of his china, and had since modified the table’s self-stabilising pneumatic cylinders by filling them liberally with mineral oil. The now-hydraulic table, as well as being impossible to fold without spending half an hour bleeding oil from its supports, was probably the most stable table in the galaxy.

Beneath the table’s steel canopy, packet between yet more peanuts, lay a large accumulation of various articles. What appeared to be (because it was) a kettle, several cups, of varying shapes and sizes, a large and plain tablecloth of surprisingly white white, offset by a red border inlaid with tiny, oddly-proportioned drawings of animals and wildfowl; folded around the side of a large bowl with a crudely-formed spout were four identical miniature versions of the same cloth, obviously meant to act as napkins or something similar. Oswald carefully arrayed the articles upon the table in front of him, ignoring the semi-chaos of the labouring Felinoids, screeching teens and warbling forest around him with equal and total ease, as he poured from a large flask of fresh water he had drawn on Casir’s yacht and began to heat the kettle from a small solid-fuel stove.

This was a safari, yes. And yes, there was much to do. But it was almost half past two, and Oswald’s cup was waiting.

[Roania]

Mary blushed at Talia's compliment, then nodded as she listened to Talia talk about Leonardo and the kzin. So, Leo was not attached already? She giggled. "Well, he's certainly handsome." The young woman said, nodding to where Leo was sitting, the blush remaining on her cheeks. "But I'm jealous. You already have an admirer!" She giggled a bit nervously, looked around, and quietly punched the air. "Adventure!" She exclaimed, laughing. It is a cliche in some ways to compare a woman's laughter to the tinkling of bells, but that was what the young lady sounded like, mystical bells tinkling in a sea breeze.

Her natural shyness reasserted itself, and she flushed once more, looking down at her feet. "They both seem very nice." She said of the kzin after a moment. "Big, though. Much bigger than the felinoids I'm used to." Maryesselle considered the energetic rett as she released the flugzard and approached the tent. "I wonder if they would like being scratched behind the ears, though. The felinoids like it..." Maryesselle suddenly blinked at Talia's ears and turned bright, bright red. "Oh! I'm sorry... I didn't mean to... I didn't..."


The wood outside the camp was surprisingly clean. A few tangled fernlike growths splattered along where there were gaps between the mighty cycads, and ivy-analogues hanging from the trees, a few dozen shining representatives of the flugzards occasionally dancing back and forth along the vines. One of them buzzed by Leo's head for a moment, somehow evading the electric fence's links. Another shimmering one, less fortunate, buzzed right into the fence and fell down, coughing. After a minute or two, it picked itself up and limped off, the expression on its small head apparently disgust.

Then, suddenly, the flugzards vanished, and something else leaped against the fence, appearing from the trees, two beady eyes perched on top of a befanged head, the animal's bulk hidden in the dappled shadows of the forest. It didn't hiss or make any noise at all, simply chomping forward, its mouth biting into the fence. Then the eyes went wide and it yelped, running off as fast as it can, large tail moving rapidly behind it.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Talia laughs. Not a mocking laugh, not a mean laugh, just one of pure amusement at Maryesselle’s train of thought brought to an abrupt stop.

“It’s okay, really,” she says, trying to settle her giggles a bit. “I know, they’re not as obvious as some, and I know some people think it a bit of an oddity, but it’s just me, and I’m used to it.” She pulls her hair back over her ears, something she usually doesn’t do, and they twitch a couple times.

“Here, lets go see what else they want us to do. We can talk while we walk,” she suggests, leading the way.

“I’ve been wondering about your … felinoids. They’re nothing like the Kzinti that I’ve been able to see. And they’re nothing like the nekos or other various sorts I’m familiar with. They seem like … well, almost a slave race,” she finishes, more serious than she was before. “I mean, they’re sentient, right? But the way they carry on with everyone. Even their speech is kinda tweaky, like they’re half animal rather than a purely sentient race, which is sorta well … odd.”

She ponders that for a moment, ears twitching again, then uses both her hands to ruffle her hair up again, effectively covering her ears for the most part – at least to the casual glance, then shrugs. “Sorry, probably not a great topic to get onto right now – bit heavy, that. As for Leo? Yeah, he’s not hard to look at I guess. He seemed to check you out a time or three, come to think of it. And Jameson?”

Here she giggles again. “Gawd, I know. I about died when he jumped up on the chair like that. Like a little kid or something. Cute, but oi. We’ve got quite the group out there, neh? Angel boy, and that giant, Raoul? Holy sh…I mean, wow. He’s huge! There’s the artist, and our crazy DJ, and rocker boy, and the younger kid, Calvyn wasn’t it? And those other jerks I’m sure we could both do without.”

She pauses again, then arches a brow. “That Arcenar guy, though. Was he serious about his mom hating him and wanting him dead, or was that supposed to be funny?”

--- --- ---

“No, it isn’t,” Leo replies, mildly surprised at how the big guy just sort of appeared out of nowhere. “Not sure how I feel about some of the factoids in those handouts. I mean il dio, ten tons? What are we going to be hunting with? Tanks?”

He shakes his head a bit, peering out through the fence with Raoul, idly shooing away the pretty fluttery thing without much thought. “It’s certainly a helluva look, I’ll give it that. Nothing like it where I’m from. And you did have to mention nightmares crawling out of the trees, didn’t you?”

He gives the other boy a wry look – right about the time something leaps at the fence in a flurry of eyes and teeth and God only knows what else, sending him windmilling back away with a loud and colorful curse in his native language, falling flat on his backside, and scurrying further away from the fence line as fast as one can scramble from that position.

“Mannagia, porco dio! What in hell was that?!?” he manages, leaping to his feet, and dusting himself off angrily. His pulse racing, he takes a few more steps back from the electric fence all the same, eyes wide as he scans the trees for the beast.

[Skeelzania]

“And you did have to mention nightmares crawling out of the trees, didn’t you?” Leo asked.

“One should be prepared for all threats. . .” Raoul was half turned around, distracted by the landing of a second shuttle, when the chittering nightmare jumped out of the bushes after all. Cursing incoherently, Raoul stumbled back as he yanked his hunting knife free of its sheath. Then he was in a combat crouch, heart pounding, looking for something to sink the knife into and waiting for something to sink into him.

But the thing was gone, repelled by the Roanian fence. Raoul’s blood was pounding in his ears, almost drowning out Leo’s own colorful exclamations. Glancing over and not seeing any blood, Raoul straightened up and tried to keep his knees from shaking.

“Not sure. Maybe a Tomois?” Raoul wondered, the hard consonants of the Skeelzanian dialect mangling the Roanian pronunciation. “The packet said they had no fear of bipedal life, and God’s Bleeding Corpse if that thing wasn’t out for blood. Would have been nice if the Roros had given us pictures of the fucking things. You’re alright?”

The two boys glared into the woods for a bit. Raoul noticed he was still gripping his knife tightly; he managed to get it back into its sheath on the first try. “The Huntmaster seems to be unoccupied, now. I’m definitely going to try and get a hold of a rifle and get some practice in, if we have to contend with those things.”

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“Damn straight,” Leo agreed, indeed glaring for all he was worth – which was, admittedly, rather intensely. If looks could kill, said beastie would have spontaneously combusted. “Hope you don’t mind if I tag along. I think I’ve had about enough of the perimeter. Nothing hurt but my pride, but damned if that wasn’t enough to get your blood pounding.”

He nodded, indicating he’d follow if Raoul lead the way, still very much not amused with his first ‘encounter’ with the wilder side of the wildlife planetside.