Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

by **Giovenith** » Sun Nov 29, 2015 8:00 pm

Giovenith had been helping her pony unload the supplies from their wagon, ignoring the gathered crowd for the time being, before Marcus surprised the both of them. Willow looked to Giovenith for cue, and he took her relaxed posture as proof that things were alright between two and gave them space, unpacking the rest himself.

"Not a meeting," she answered with a cleared throat, blushing a smidge. "Just a gathering, I guess. Willow here is going to make a Thanksgiving dinner though..."

Pots and pans clattered as said pony dug through the building's communal cooking supplies.

She gave Willow a brief look before turning back to the cyborg, taking his hand. "Look, Marcus, I... I'm not mad at you. I mean, I still don't like what happened, but I still forgive you. We were all really sad and a little crazy..."

"You must be the marine Rache mentioned," Willow meanwhile greeted Deuce, flying up to speak face-to-face with him, a large pot set between his hooves. The painter wasn't sure what a marine was, perhaps some sort of water expert, but he did remember how he once offered him a bench. "We're going to be cooking together?"

by **Primordial Luxa** » Sun Nov 29, 2015 8:35 pm

SHEEP
“The counting bit is smart” Aegis replied to Sandy “we should definitely do that, and you are correct we should be looking for the best direction to lead them in but I think that will be something we will most likely have to make up on the fly. However we know for certain we shouldn’t lead any of them towards another green pasture, a stream, or a patch of greyish white woods since that is where the others are setting up to catch the young.”

“You’re right about the screaming however Ocho” he continued “I can use my helmet to filter out the worst of the effects but we should try and think up a more sure fire way to keep them quiet. Does anyone have any ideas regarding that?”

ASCALON
Insidious cephalopodic skin was doing its best to subconsciously camouflage her against the interior of the car by taking on the various hues and shadows of her projected environment. This of course wasn’t complex enough to fool a serious inspection and might have been enough if she was only payed a passing glance, however since she didn't rely on her skin she lifted her hands with a look of serious disappointment on her features.

She should have expected someone to get them all in trouble with the law but if she was perfectly honest she would have assumed it would have been her big mouth or perverse sense of pleasure. But instead it was one of the more militaristic of the group who had apparently not checked their weapons in a customary manner or perhaps had come off a little too threateningly. In any case she was both relieved since this meant she might be able to avoid any direct punishment, she hadn't brought any weapons with her which she was growing thankful for but as she saw her friends being carried away with bags over their heads she began to become more hostile.

She snatched up her bag and looked around the car for some place she might be able to run to, as well as asking herself various questions about what might be the best way to get out of this scenario. Ultimately she realized escape would be impossible without one of her weapons. So when she stepped out of the car to embrace the guards she looked one in the eye and said “Please, can you promise to treat me and my friend fairly?” She tried to put up an air of innocence and kindness while holding her possessions close to her trying to keep them with her.

LIBRARY
“Yes” he said pausing in his inspection to think for a moment before continuing “I have actually been trying to address that recently in the Burrows. I have tried to display a large amount of generosity towards the locals with my spending and tipping, while I have also sent Aegis out to help them reclaim the lost sheep. Hopefully I can build up a good enough reputation as a kind benefactor that they can overlook some of my...and perhaps by extension all our...eccentricities. ”

by **Northwest Slobovia** » Sun Nov 29, 2015 10:26 pm

Fvaarniimar wrote:<Can I ride on you?> A few images of those eyes in the woods accompanied the request, along with a rather uneasy feeling.

Sandy started to reach down with his free hand to scoop Nick up, but froze at Nick's images of wolves' eyes. Lines of poetry came to his mind -- and Nick's -- answering the verse he'd Heard earlier: a golden-stringed lute mingles its song/with your howling, wolves. Just how far in over their heads were they, that somebody would remind him of hundred-year-old poetry? And why?

Sandy undid his partial stoop, and cast his gaze around for the source of the Greek music he Heard. He was half-Blind, and he doubted he'd find anything, but it worth a shot.

Fvaarniimar wrote:A few moments later he spoke up, addressing the group. "Should we try to be sneaky? If we're loud we might distract better?"

Sandy checked the horizon, searching for the first touch of rosy-fingered dawn. They didn't have much time to discuss this. "Loud might be better."

He reached down again and finished picking Nick up, placing him over his right shoulder, against his neck. He sent a flood of thoughts racing his way. I can carry you into the field at least. Borrow all my senses -- there's plenty of magic here to see and hear -- and loan me your sensitive hearing in return, if you can. If you feel me about to move suddenly, be ready to jump. And if you do decide to jump, try onto a sheep's back to keep it distracted.

Primordial Luxa wrote:“The counting bit is smart” Aegis replied to Sandy “we should definitely do that, and you are correct we should be looking for the best direction to lead them in but I think that will be something we will most likely have to make up on the fly. However we know for certain we shouldn’t lead any of them towards another green pasture, a stream, or a patch of greyish white woods since that is where the others are setting up to catch the young.”

Aegis' answer caught Sandy mid-thought with Nick, and he stared blankly at the strangely-armored man as he tried to figure out what he'd said. He missed the first part of what Aegis said, but the end made it clear. "Exactly, that's what I meant about the other groups reappearing. I should have been more precise."

Primordial Luxa wrote:“I can use my helmet to filter out the worst of the effects but we should try and think up a more sure fire way to keep them quiet. Does anyone have any ideas regarding that?”

Sandy answered guardedly, his face clouded and uncertain. "The one we saw screeched when it saw Kale, so I think it was afraid of her. We can either use this to our advantage by having Kale chase the sheep and deal with the consequences, or keep her away from them. We're meant to distract them, not necessarily frighten them. If we knew what they liked, perhaps we could come up with something."

"The sheep turned crimson a little before it screamed. Coincidence, or is that telling us it was getting nervous or cold? I'm not sure." Sandy looked out over the field. Were the sheep all the same color? The nearest seemed like they might be in range of his Sight; perhaps that would tell him something as well.

Sandy rechecked the sky, scanning for dawn.

by **Highfort** » Sun Nov 29, 2015 10:34 pm

Officer Kleo sighed in relief. Tagging and bagging was going as expected, with few interruptions. The gatejumpers had managed to shove multiple feet into their collective mouth, and she hoped that they wouldn't insist on trying to shove any more. The officer was going to have enough trouble as it was procuring IDs and passports for these people; she didn't need the extra attention.

"Don't worry, Mr. Usseio, we won't be removing anything from you, just your unattached belongings," she tried to reassure the bulky cyborg even as a black cloth was pulled over his head and a noose tightened around his neck, "That goes for all of you. We don't want to harm anyone. Our goal is to ensure everyone's safety here. The Judge will determine if you're fit to walk our city streets; try not to have a repeat performance of what we saw out here and you should be fine."

Officer Harlem snorted but said nothing. It was all the same with these gatejumpers - they'd wise up or be eaten up. Such was the way of the streets in Urbem Ascalon.

"Word to the wise," Harlem directed his voice at Thaddeus though his shotgun continued scanning the hooded visitors, "If you want to do well, drop your idiot friends. You seemed happy enough to comply but Princess dumbass over here was pulling something from her pocket and General Pomp and Circumstance was trying to play hero. You seem smart, but your choice in companions is awful."

One of the guards grunted, wiping off stray tears from Rmwtyliin as he bent her down next to the others, as if to punctuate Charles' point, "Bitch over here's crying. The fuck is up with you guys; can't follow instructions and start crying like Demens' babies when we have to get rough on you."

"And would someone calm that bitch down? Having a bad enough day as it is, I don't need some sniveling jumper wriggling around," Charles clucked his tongue in contempt, sneering at the newcomers, "Fucking gatejumpers."

"You think you've done enough, Charles?" Barruda scoffed in disgust, lowering her rifle for a moment to address the shivering form of Rmwtyliin, "Hey, you're gonna be okay, alright? The Judge won't treat you bad, you'll see. It's just for everyone's safety, that's all."

"Fucking gone soft is what's happened to you," the other officer merely continued panning his shotgun back and forth, yelling over at the officers standing near the truck's door, "Hey, get the last of them out here so we can get 'em in the truck and over to Judge's!"

"Thanks, Mr. Bodkins," Septimus conveyed through the tether, though the intrusion left him attempting to resist the urge to look around. Though the surroundings had become clear through the mysterious cloth, he needed the officers to think that he was still at their mercy. They all did, if they wanted to make it out of here alive, "Just take it easy for now. Everything's under control and we're being taken to a local leader. Hopefully we can reason with him and work out that this was all just a big misunderstanding. But no funny business until then, okay? We've done enough to make them suspicious of us."

No sooner had he conveyed that thought did all hell once-again break lose. Insidious' dramatic entrance left one of the guards reeling and the other calling for support, screaming over the microphone that she was grabbing for the armored woman's partner. The aforementioned partner grabbed for Insidious' bag, shoving the strange woman away before curling up on the ground with the bag clutched to his chest.

"It's a bomb, by Demens' balls, run!" the young guard called out, sure that he had stumbled across some sort of suicide bombing attempt. Those had become far too commonplace in Ascalon - especially among the poor - in recent months.

Several more guards, now garbed in thick padding and with what looked to be explosive shields in their hands, ran forward to assess the threat. Pulling the sweating, feeble guard from his prone position, they yanked the bag from his hands before looking it over, inspecting it for telltale signs of rigged explosives before nodding at each other and setting it beneath a rubber block and carbon-mesh shield to control the explosion.

"Side one secure," one of the bomb experts drilled two screws into the concrete to secure the left side of the shield. The other nodded and drilled the other two screws, "Side two secure. Clear site for forced detonation."

"You heard him, clear the site!" Charles grabbed Septimus roughly by the collar and the cyborg went limp as he was dragged toward a waiting armored truck and shoved into the back. Barruda went for Rmwtyliin and Amanda, pulling one and then the other and shoving them into the truck. Rodney followed, and then Thaddeus - pulled by the combined strength of four officers. Officers emerged from the machine gun nests and towers to swarm the other lanes, pulling civilians from their cars and trucks behind the barricades.

Romulus struggles had not left a good impression on the guards. In spite of his assistance with removing the armor, which was now being stored away for safekeeping while the bomb was dealt with, the hefty general was bagged as well and carried into the armored truck. He, too, would have to face the Judge.

"What about the bomber?" the female officer whose partner was now breathing into a bag behind the barricades smashed her rifle against Insidious' cheek before dragging her back toward the safety of the defensive line, "She doesn't have anything else on her."

"Knock her out and bag her; they're all going to meet the Judge," Charles offered a grim nod before two officers pulled stun-sticks and beat Insidious until she stopped moving, her twitching form quickly bagged like the rest and shoved into the armored truck, "Get that truck moving! Tell Judge he's got a Code Black."

"Will do, sir!" a salute from one of the officers preceded him getting into the driver's seat of the armored truck, his partner slamming the back doors of the truck shut and securing them with chains before joining him in the front, "Full speed ahead to Judge's Palace!"

And with that, the newcomers to Urbem Ascalon were whisked away, slamming and rolling against each other in the back of an armored truck, to the center of the Uppers.

Past miles and miles of tenements, run-down apartments, and little shacks and shops lay the crown jewel of the depressed Upper Neighborhood. Behind barbed wire, secured by nearly three hundred guards, and overlooking the slums of the city's outskirts lay Judge's Palace.

Not that any of them could see that. Even with Rodney's assistance, the cyborgs were confined to looking around the darkness of the armored truck. Slits in the sides of the windows to allow in air also filtered in the fog of morning, but almost nothing was discernible through them. Regular turns kept the passengers disoriented, and the clanging of chains keeping the back door shut filled the air.

"Well, we're in deep shit now, aren't we?!" Septimus called out, though he wasn't sure anyone could hear him, "Hope the Judge is a nice guy!"

by **Swith Witherward** » Sun Nov 29, 2015 11:24 pm

KITCHEN
Relief coursed through Marcus' body. Tensed muscles relaxed in a series of painful stabs as he lowered his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck with a free hand.

"I really thought you wouldn't want to talk to me ever again," he confessed through lips drawn back in pained expression. "I hardly slept. I thought I'd struck out with you, and I never want to go through that again, or put you in that position again. I'm sorry."

His armed moved as if to draw her into an embrace, but he stopped himself. His experiences with this stuff were formed via observation, and he had piss-poor examples to follow. It was only natural to assume Giovenith might consider a hug nothing but a shallow attempt to placate her. His warm thumb tenderly stroked the back of her hand instead. She'd know how deeply he regretted everything; she'd find out when she saw the gift hanging on her door.

It wasn't often that Deuce found anyone on his eye level. The ugly marine's chapped lips shifted into a pleasant smile - for him. To Willow, the scars capturing and tugging upon his healthier skin might make it seem as though he were leering.

"The cultist leader asked me to lend a hand," Deuce displayed the peeled carrots in his massive palm, "Thought I'd start prepping stuff. All sorts of goods coming out of pockets this morning. Any suggestions for a menu, or are we winging it?"

He's brow furrowed as he shook some orange curls from his robes. "I didn't mean that as an insult. The winging it thing, I mean."

LIBRARY
Colonel Mustard with a Candlestick?
"I'm not sure if 'kind benefactor' is the way to go," she shrugged. "They're more concerned about the gods and various chaotic pantheons. Let's face it, Primordial, how often do people like us offer things knowing full well there's a catch? It's our natures and our habits that unsettle them. And by them, I mean the other Residents."

The leather covering creaked as Minerva settled more deeply into the chair's embrace. She tapped her pockets and found her cigarettes, and soon the strange, cherry-tainted smoke joined the odors from the fireplace beside them.

"Part of it is that the newer Residents don't know us well," she breathed out a plume, "And if they did, I'm not sure they could handle it. Take drugs, for example. Both our sides do. You Luxans have your cocktails and pills. My Lads have their cocaine. Both of us use it as a means to retain our sanity, yes? Residents would be quick to judge us for the drugs, however. Of course, what I find most humorous is that they sit there in the dining room with that damn SCP machine, and it spews out whatever potent thing anyone wants. Well, for a few orders, until it becomes angry and starts adding strychnine to the coffee."

She lazily waved a hand. "I digress. The point is, they judge a book by its cover."

SHEEP
"I can try to alleviate people's nausea," Nila stepped forward and blinked at Aegis. "I'm psionic. It won't work on Ocho, though. And it will take me out of commission, because there are several minds here, and I'm not an Overseer. I'll need to take the sensation into my mind, ridding it from people so they can function. The cat, the wizard man, and the girl."

UA
Thaddeus' teeth clamped together with enough force to shatter enamel and bone. He might have, too, had they all not been replaced years ago by something stronger. He silently fumed as the van sped along, his wrath building with each annoying curve. Septimus' voice rose above the road noise and chains; the old cyborg fully agreed with his assessment.

"I trust you fucktards have finally gotten it into your thick heads that these people are serious?" the former tech priest's bark caused Rodney to wince as it rang out in the van's confined space. "Stop fucking around. Stop digging through pockets and clutching your possessions and trying to come across as anything important."

His ire rose as did his voice, until his very words took on a preacher's fervent tenor, "We are all worthless fleshbags here, brothers and sisters. This isn't your home empires. We're a long way from our Bielefeld, oh yes indeed. We are not heroes here, my friends. Oh, no, we are not. Wake the fuck up because we are nothing but a bunch of vagabonds. No, worse, we are Gatejumpers. Gate jumpers! And as Omnissiah as my witness, I will tear the lips off the next person who fucks up."

He didn't expect an amen.

"And three of you bitches are paying the impound fees on my rig," he finished much more calmly before resting his back against the van's wall to contemplate their next course of action.

"It's safe to assume they were merely annoyed before the handbag incident," Rodney clucked to Septimus through a single tether.

The Nifid cleared his throat and extended his mind to form a barrier between them and the truck's confining walls, taking care to pad the wall between hold and cab extra well. The sound of rattling chains muted.

"Listen, we don't need to be bitched at. Here is my plan," he began, "I'm the only one here that carries diplomatic papers. No, my nation isn't here, but at least it is something that this judge can hold in his hand. I'm an ambassador. That would make you all part of my diplomatic envoy. Ms Bela, I need a secretary. Not a lawyer. Lawyers are shrewd with law, no? We don't want the judge to suspect we know our way around it."

Next... "General Aphrodisiac, you are my security, a Captain from this point forward. Generals are powerful tools when in enemy hands, and you would be a good tool for them, or else killed because Generals hate to take orders. A captain is run-of-the-mill. No more words about your empire, either. You are from the Nifidium."

As for the Luxan? "Miss Insidious, forget about being Luxan for the afternoon. You are my personal physician, and your bag carried my vital medicines, understand? You were only trying to protect me by safeguarding it."

His bagged head rotated towards Thaddeus. "You are my close friend, Thaddeus. We were reminiscing about our old glory days when the jump happened. You've already provided your paperwork so there's no way you could pull off association with a witherward."

And then there was the young woman. "Miss Rmwtyliin, you are my darling daughter. When we get out of this van, let's find a way to bump into each other so my body will shift to reflect some of your DNA. You don't speak the common tongue very well, so your rat creature was my birthday present to you."

That left only one. "Representative Itum, you are a chargés d'affaires ad interim. You were temporarily assigned to Bielefeld. I had only just arrived yesterday, and we were politely trading news of home on our way from the space port when we found ourselves here."

He sighed. "Should anyone ask why we are all so different, it is because the Nifidium Convocation is a tiny, multi-species nation. Does anyone have any questions? And keep in mind, the less anyone speaks to the judge, the more our story will gel."

by **Germanic Templars** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 12:04 am

"It's not blue collar work that has taken its toll on me, but more of white collar work. That is right, a lot of statistics, paperwork, thinking, and organizing has taken its toll on me over any other work I do on a daily basis.." Thriller removed his hand out from his coat, pulling out a carbon finished Raging Bull revolver. He inspected the working on it before placing it on the table with delicacy and care, treating it as if it was important - and loaded.

"So. A blacksmith. Honest work really. What specifically do you work on? Forge, really? Like weapons or armor?" He asked as he reached for his cigar. He took a long drag of the cigar before placing it back in the ash tray. Strong smell of tobacco and nicotine escaped between his lips as he gently blew the smoke out of his lungs.

by **Charmera** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 12:15 am

“Eh. Same difference. It’s still work. Still hard.” She remarked casually, shrugging. She knew paperwork and thinking could be quite the pain. She remembered studying for her Runesmithing “Exams” (tests administered by her mother.) which were absurdly grueling. Still, she managed to pass with flying colors and become the smith she was today. Asdra regarded the gun with a raise of her eyebrow. She remembered many close calls when people thought it was a good idea to rob a Runesmith.

“Weapons. Armor. Magic runes. That sort of things. Though I also do tools and repair. Heck I’ll do anything with metal if you pay me enough.” She remarked non-chalantly, as if being a Tunesmith was normal, which for her it was.

by **Germanic Templars** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 12:47 am

"A rune smith? Well that certainly is rather unique. So that means you can put enchantments on items. Say that you can make a weapon cut through something or someone better?" Her skills intrigued the emperor as he considered if he would need of her skills. Tough call. On one hand, he would like to see her skills put to use, on the other hand, he did not want anyone touching his guns or his suit... Especially the walk nuke that was his suit.

by **Mincaldenteans** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 1:57 am

DINING ROOM
Conversations had moved quickly and in several directions, leaving Anais in a bit of a predicament of where to carry on. On one side, she had the opportunity to get to know the prince better, but now there were two newcomers in addition to the captain and her companions, the warrior-priestess, an emperor, and four new(ish) individuals she had only seen in passing before last night that just arrived. The ritualist cold only let out of slight huff at where to go, instead she smirked, realizing she had all the options and left with indecision to which direction to go with.

Opting to stay, the Ritualist caught Asdra's proclamation being a blacksmith, and Anais turned her attention back to conversation at hand. Not speaking out of turn, she waited until her opening and started greeted with a polite smile, "A blacksmith? A reputable trade indeed. As Chrys mentioned, I'm Anais, leader of the Dwayna's Vigilant, a pleasure to meet you this morning, Asdra. And you as well, Thriller, I apologize if I did not recognize you earlier. Like our newest arrivals, I'm not quite familiar with the many in the Building."

Getting back to subject at hand before it could be lost in idle conversation, "You've come at a good time, there was talk about having a coop built, and while I realize it's not the same as forging under a practiced hammer, we could use a spare hand to help to build it, or at least advise us of anything we're doing wrong. Would you care to assist us?"

Anais hoped her leap in getting the proposed coop buildng wasn't hasty or presumptuous, but the ritualist felt this would be rare moment and in cementing the first steps of camaraderie rather than being distant neighbors.

by **Swith Witherward** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 3:33 am

It was her decision - one that she had contemplated throughout the centuries but had never been capable of embracing. That wasn’t by her choice, however. Fate had granted Neste very few of those in life. This time was different. Logic was dead, and it took all the protocols and governing bullshit with it. Neste, for the first time in her protracted and miserable existence, was finally her own person.

The heavy fabric of Septimus' spare robes caressed her skin as her fingertips parted the living room window blinds. Her eyes sought Urbum Ascalon in the distance, although her gaze couldn't pierce the fog outside. Such a dreary morning. Befitting.

“Sentia? Breakfast?” the words rasped from a parched throat, and her hem whispered against the gleaming floor as she strode towards the kitchen to fill the cat’s bowls with more than a day’s rations.

Every moment held a note of finality. Each tick of the clock was one that could never be recovered. The construct spent her life hoping to wear the clock down, and she smiled at the notion now. Her choice. Her terms. Her Doxi.

Her lover’s formal robes cast her in a scholarly light as she settled behind the little desk in the corner and fished clean paper from the drawer. She brushed her snout against her shoulder to release some of his scent trapped between the fibers, then put pen to paper. Some things should never be saved in libraries. Some things needed to be tangible.

I am NST 3v1, a war machine. This is my story…

by **Charmera** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 4:53 am

"Not an enchantment. Enchantments are skin deep and are often very easily dispelled. A rune will last longer than the metal itself and will be separable only by another runesmith. Very different, and Runes are much more reliable." Asdra explained, always insisting on marking the difference between runecraft and enchantment. She wasn't just mumbling some mystic words over the metal, she was etching the magic into the soul of the thing. "So yes, I could make something cut through things better. Or make metal stronger and more durable. Or make iron spout fire. I can do a lot with metal basically." She remarked. She perhaps was being a little prideful, but this was not just her craft, or some cute little hobby. Runes were her life. Advocating for them in a world which thought for some stupid reason they were obsolete was part of her unofficial job description.

Asdra turned to Anais. She paused for a moment. She considered refusing out of hand, but then the voice of her mother chimed in her head. The giant would likely be more than a little annoyed if she refused to help someone because of something as silly as childish pride. So she nodded. "Sure. I mean I would assume a coop would be something more suited towards a carpenter, but I suppose to refuse someone who is asking for help would just be rude.

by **Tiltjuice** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 12:10 pm

"Well...Minerva has left us to our own work, and this is it." Chrys' shoulders rolled under the fabric of her uniform, making the sword jump slightly. "I don't suppose we could make it out of something other than wood; but I'm not sure what that could be, or how to build things. I'm normally much better at destroying them." An abashed air drifted into her voice and she smiled somewhat sheepishly.

"Metal could work. I could help with the crafting and refining of it. Wherever we can find some, my best guess is the villagers. They'd also know a lot more about how to keep the Fiends out of the place, if they prey on chickens and - oh! Runes, can they repel hostile creatures? Anyway, that's probably the first place to start; the village isn't that far away."

by **Fvaarniimar** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 3:21 pm

UA
Rmwtyliin had forced herself to stop crying a few moments after her tears had been pointed out; at first, in the truck, she was terrified, but then she realized that all the scary weapons that had pointed at her were still outside. Hearing a rather brilliant plan which might well get them out of the situation, she relaxed further, even grinning before her eyes widened in surprise. Daughter? The girl had expected to be assigned the role of a minor servant, particularly considering her errors thus far. Well, this diplomat certainly seemed to know what he was doing, and here was a chance to redeem herself. She nodded, before realizing that they wouldn't see it (although of course they would.) "Yes, thank you." She could express her gratitude properly later. She forced the term past her lips, pitching her voice (a little shaky but calmer than one would expect) a little higher. "Daddy?" They could be listening, after all...and it would be intelligent to start with the pretense now, so that they could get used to it before it became a matter of life and death.

"This is very scary!" It made perfect sense for a typical child to admit such feelings to a parent, even if Rmwtyliin felt her cheeks getting hot at admitting weakness to multiple strangers. Parents were not, in fact, strangers. They were trusted - "If you ever pose as someone, make sure you and all others know whatever details are necessary..." Think... "...I only really wanted to come because I wanted some new clothing, maybe in the green of new leaves - which I doubt surprises you, as I have preferred that color for five years! I really am silly - you might as well not know that I am thirteen!" At least she thought she was by now. It felt more natural already. What other information might she need to pass on which could help them pose?

"Or..." Parents know their children's birthdays. "Or of the little scar on my right big toe!" Mine is 3-25s and four before the new year. Can I manage decimal? 3-25s and four. Ten is two fives. "Remember, I was playing and I tripped and there was a sharp stone?" There are five and five and five fives in three 25s. Uhh... "It was a while ago, but you - wait, this culture seems advanced enough so that he would not have worried - I was pretty scared by all the - blood. You calmed me down, told me that even if it looked bad, it was just a little scratch." That should work. So a five and half-a-five tens? She imagined Emm's voice. "We have seventeen irka nuts. See? I want half, but..." So split one of the five irka nuts in half. "Or that I like fruit more than leaves or meat...and I find tea to be quite a treat, with sugar anyway." Split in two equal piles. One, two - and a half! A five tens, two tens, and a half ten...five? Right. How to slip that into conversation? She thought about it, as she addressed the next party -

Secretary - kind of like my real dad, but not married to Rodney. "Oh, and Mndah? Sorry, I still cannot pronounce your name. It was a relief when we agreed to use nicknames!" Presumptuous as that was, they'd be rather stuck if it went unaddressed. "Uh, did you have anything specific to write today, or to tally, or to schedule - aside from this trip? I know this is a dumb time to ask, but you know I am curious about the duties of a secretary, and talking about normal things -" Normal, like the weather. Wait...Perfect! - "Really is helping me to relax."

I guess I can try to work with Rahmulus later if no one else does, see if we can explain away his previous claims... "Oh, and - Daddy, remember that fierce storm five-and-three tens days before November 20th?" Rmwtyliin had witnessed fierce storms, but not on that date. "It lasted for most of the next day, and we had to celebrate my birthday indoors." "I..." Prompt him. "Actually, I think reminiscing about happy times is reassuring me. Would you tell me something now, Father? You know I always have liked stories." Oh - and he would know - "Duuncihn, I thank you again for translating, and I greatly appreciate, Dad, your giving Duuncihn to me. You are a huge help."

by **Zarkanians** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 4:01 pm

"Oh . . . So you're Cat? That's your name?"

Bran set the plate down, folding the last bit of the waffle like a burrito, and shoving the rest into his hungry mouth. Lacking the sophisticated manners of the Princely Drova, Bran continued to at least attempt to speak. "Well . . . She already introduced us to the new girl over there, but it's a pleasure." He reached a hand out to shake to the Zarkenian. It wasn't the cleanest of hands, with a few splotches of syrup clinging to him, a remnant of breakfast.

The name made sense in his head at least. However there was one thing he still didn't get.

Cat could be a name for either a man or a woman, and yet this person still looked like both, and neither at the same time. Cat looked human as well, but didn't. "If you don't mind me asking." Bran continued. "Where are you from?"[/quote]

"Yeah. Sorry; I'm... New. Names and designations seem to be the same thing, here." He shook his hand, seeming unbothered by its state; his own hand was, after all, still gloved. His face brightened a little at Bran's question, though. "I come from Zarkanians! Do, uh, do you know what that is? I'm trying to establish where I am relative to where I was, so..." He shrugged, hoping the motion would convey his confusion adequately. "Would you like to talk and walk? The, um, the officer," he grimaced, but unlike the sword-bearer, military officials were common enough outside of Zarkanians that his mind did not immediately associate Minerva with Zarkanian's equivalent of the military chain of command, "doesn't seem like the type to appreciate people standing around while they should be working." This seemed like a good opportunity to learn more about where he was and what he might be expected to do, here.

by **Primordial Luxa** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 4:31 pm

ASCALON
When Insidious finally awoke from her nervous electrical overload she spent a long time muttering curses and prayers in a heathen tongue under her breath in regards to a great many thing. Eventually he abused raged vented for a moment “Gods...these shaggoth screwing swines are...yrrrrrr! I mean how stupid can you be it was a fucking handbag!?! Right? It wasn’t even my human skin one it was...Gods Damn. Fuck this place...seriously, Cthugha raze it and Eihort salt it, we should just…” She mostly just sputtered half articulated rage, vague threats and complaints until she eventually calmed down and was able to listen to a Septimus’s plan and nod before going back to her incoherent anger.

LIBRARY
“Your insightful as always Minerva.” He said reclining on one of the couches on his own and staring at the ceiling with a thoughtful expression. “My people’s panteon are certainly as terrible and awesome as many of them come but they have always shown themselves both to me and to others as being the most apathetic of any pantheon about the concerns of humanoids and mortals. The terribleness with the King was a small and rare exception to the rule. They really have better things to do, like I’m sure your gods do as well, than worry about ants like me and the others. I suppose you’re higher than most of us but still, I don’t think judging from my readings that other deities are allowed into this place as freely as they were back home.”

“All lesser species judge things on their surface appearance it is hardly strange but just because they judge us doesn’t mean we should care does it?”

SHEEP
“Okay so the new plan is Nila will stay with me towards the back. Nila, I am pretty sure that I can use the residual mental energy of my helmet’s elder crystals in order to strengthen your psionic abilities if you feel comfortable with me doing so? It’s essentially raw intrinsic fields and arcano-fuel which is half of what most psychic powers are anyway so I cant imagine it doing anything but enhancing what you can already do but i’ll leave that up to you.”

He then turned to the others and said “She will protect the rest of you while Kale, Nick and Sandy will take the lead, it will be Kales job to offer protection and try and herd the group into a single enclosed area. For now let’s say the center of the clearing we can have Kale create a dome around all of them and then deal with any attempts to escape as they present yourself. Ocho your out second line and should advance if anyone looks like they're in trouble or any sheep look like they're about the escape. That sound fair? Oh and step across on three right.”

by **Chedastan** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 5:06 pm

Romulus hit the back of his head against the interior wall of the truck after it jolted badly from something, probably a bump or a pothole, maybe a corpse for all he knew, as he awakened finally from having been knocked out momentarily. His head and chest still hurt like hell, and he groaned a bit from trying to get himself situated enough to not fall over as much, as it appears whoever is driving is either shit, and or the roads were shit, both were sensible possibilities from what he has gathered. He also couldn't see that well still, and it was made worse by the bad lighting inside the truck. At least he guessed they were inside a truck. He did manage to see the somewhat recognizable faces of the others from the group through the darkness though, remarkable given how he just met them yesterday.

He would do just about anything to get out of this situation right now, as it was disgraceful, it was insulting, it was embarrassing! Had the Wilhelm Imperium happened to have to been nearby, the city would had assuredly been taken over by now, probably led by a Colonel if the city is the city-state to be believed as, definitely not any footnote in history for sure. They would make a lovely memorial statue over their ruins for all settlers to see, he could picture it now. Just too bad this wasn't the case.

THUD!

A quick turn knocked his head back again, making him come out of his small fantasy, and wishing he could rub the back of his head. He wasn't sure what Thaddeus was expecting for him to pay for the impounding fees, but he had a feeling that if they live long enough, they'll figure that part out shortly afterwards. At least it looks like some of them, or well the Nifid, were in the thinking state to come up with an actual plan to help them get out of their predicament though, but the General didn't like the sound of it.

Degrading himself to Captain, to this Nifidium? After he just addressed himself as General from the Wilhelm Imperium to several of the officers that were present to hear? Not only was that an insult to himself, all Wilhelms, and even Maccabees, but if any of those officers were brought in, his whole part of the plan would be compromised, and the rest would likely soon follow.

"You do realize that if they brought in any witnesses that heard me say General, or the Wilhelm Imperium, and cared to mentioned that, this whole plan could fail right there. And I personally, do not like the idea of dishonoring my Wilhelm, his Imperium, and our patron God. By that principle alone, I am against this, and I've been Captain one time already... It was not a very enjoyable experience at all." He said to the Nifid, whilst crossing his arms.

He thought about it for a moment though, Wilhelm XXIX probably wouldn't care what he did as long as he somehow lived in the end, and Maccabees is well... Maccabees. But those few years of being a Captain though, it was horrible! That Colonel had no idea what he was doing, and almost got him killed several times. Oh how relieved he was to get promoted out of that mess! But now he was in that shit sort of situation again, almost as bad as when he was a Captain (of course for different reasons). So really that aspect was kinda there already, now names just needed to be swapped in. The plan in concept though was better than anything he could up with at the moment, which he would admit, moral quandaries aside. He would had preferred a more violent route out, given the treatment he had received, but even he knew that would spoil their whole point in coming here, to get supplies, and he couldn't assured himself to be able to survive long, especially without his suit and sword with him right now. This was pretty much the only sensible choice. He sighed, then groaned.

"Captain Romulus Aphrodisiac, of Nifidium." He almost wanted to throw up, but he said it, mission accomplished.

by **Fvaarniimar** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 7:15 pm

<I'm scared!> Reassured somewhat by Sandy's calm and friendly attitude and quite happy to be useful, he soon was substantially less so. <Thanks. Yes I should be able to do that...>

In fact it was already occurring, and it was more than just hearing. It was two-way, not three-way - no real need to keep the minds apart. Sandy ended up with a little more than he had likely bargained for - sight much better in the near-darkness, smell fourteen times more acute - the latter not only coming through the nose. The sorcerer would feel Nick adopt an expression resembling a sneer, and know why: to open a passage to an organ in the roof of the mouth which also dealt with smell. He'd also feel tactile information - mostly regarding his chest - from the cat's whiskers.

Nick, for his part, grew quite excited as color - mostly from magic, given the low light of the scene - and music flooded his brain, along with other rather alien sensations. Adding to all of this, the running commentary continued. <What's the music? I don't want to be eaten, so I don't think jumping on them is smart! Maybe if there's a spot they can't reach...> Sandy found himself watching 'Nick' shave a still sheep with his claws, and then slightly embarrassed. <I doubt it's that easy.>

It was more than a bit of a sensory overload for both, resulting in a headache at least on Nick 's end and making it tough to focus. Nick had 'edited' perceptions slightly in the past; he went about doing so. His whiskers weren't terribly relevant - Sandy would feel the feeling of his chest slipping away as a little barrier went up, damping the sensation out. Smell was simplest to superimpose, then hearing - although it would be a little harder to judge sounds' directions, easier to tell which sounds were magic, and easier from Sandy's perspective to hear high pitches. Touch, and balance, and similar were sensed by both, but kept separate after both lost balance for a few moments when the cat tried to combine said sense.

<I can keep watching your back, but it would mean you have two views of things. So will I. Can you handle that? I think I can put them on top of each other if we instead face the same way. Like...> He wriggled into a fairly secure scarf-like position, head facing forward. For several moments Sandy saw three images: his normal vision complete with Sight, Nick's delayed by some fraction of a second, and a very blurry scene. Eventually this last resolved into a colorful, fairly clear image of the area ahead of the pair, complete with spooky eyes towards the edges, and largely replaced normal vision in both brains. <Does this work? Do you prefer the other way?>

"We're thinking loud may be good. Could we make enough noise to not hear the sound?"

--

Rmwtyliin had been muttering "Nifidium" to herself almost since she had finished speaking, figuring that the pretense would likely fail if she was unable to pronounce her supposed homeland. Romulus' question got her thinking. How to explain? He could have been a General and then a Captain, or maybe lying to try to intimidate... If the first... Raahmuuluus... How did you go from a General to a captain? I think...military sections can have weird names... Maybe he commanded the Wilhelm Imperium? Demotion due to...

by **Giovenith** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 7:17 pm

"It's fine, I don't mind a good pun."

Willow wasn't too shaken by Deuce's appearance, given all humans had a kind of leering quality to them in his own mind. He was somewhat taken back by the sheer size of the fellow and his war scars, but again, all humans were giants to some degree. He flew back to the counter leading the marine, gently pushing two raw birds across the counter.

"Your main job is going to cook and prepare these fowl," he explained. "Given the large amount of people we'll be serving, I've estimated that two birds should be enough to keep up from running out too quickly. Obviously you'll be given the strongest oven here for that task. While you do that, I'll get started on the other larger dishes, and after that we'll move on to the side dishes like corn and mashed potatoes. You can take the counter over there for your work..." He pointed to a further off counter near an oven. "... and I'll use this one, so we don't mix up any of the ingredients together."

Giovenith responded with a tiny kiss on Marcus' nose. "I'm not going to be that easy to get rid of," she remarked brightly with a 'hee!' Of course not. He was her sweet, smart, brave boy, he wouldn't have been what he was to her if she incapable of forgiving him. How unfortunate they could only reassure each other in these short moments...

"Giovenith!" she heard Willow call to her, bringing her to reality.

"Oh, um," the godling looked down. "You're not busy, are you? I really should help Willow with this, but you can help too, that is if you don't have anything else. It's okay if you do." She was unaware he'd been assigned to Neste.

by **The BranRiech** » Mon Nov 30, 2015 9:12 pm

"Nah, she's hotheaded, but she's not ruthless, least from what I know of her. She's a good friend." Bran said, thinking rather positively of the Captain, smiling at the memories he shared with Minerva, seeing her as a good friend. Sure, she wouldn't take shit from anyone, but that was to be expected of a leader. "But we should indeed get going. I was going to head to find the tools, said the priests have them, so we might have to go and say hello."

Bran nodded, sliding his empty plate over to the sink.

He walked over to Chrys, with the rest of the group still meeting the new girl. "Hey, Cat and I are going to get the tools for the coop, where are we building this? We'll bring the tools up there and meet you guys yeah?" Bran nodded, removing his pale hands from his pocket. "Anyone else too, bring em' along."

--

Oh crap . . .

It was as if Marcus' little outburst was all but forgotten the other day. Gio greeted him with all the happiness of someone who wasn't involved in a scuffle for no apparent reason. Drova looked over, and decided at that moment to see how they received him. He looked back fondly on somewhat repairing his relationship with Marcus, considering the two had to help with the elevator crash. It certainly wouldn't remove the black mark that was his friendship with Octavian, but it was a start.

The Prince sighed, also already missing Torii, even though it hadn't even been a day yet since she was called away.

Swiveling on his feet, he walked over to Marcus and Gio. "Morning, guys." He smiled, exposing one of his spiky front teeth.

by **Northwest Slobovia** » Tue Dec 01, 2015 6:09 pm

Amanda bounced around in the back of the truck, thinking black thoughts. Sense of humor or not, they were all in deep trouble, under arrest in a corrupt city, heading towards a kangaroo court. And now Rodney, the mission's awkward fifth wheel, was scheming to lie to the judge. Beautiful, just beautiful: they clearly weren't in enough trouble as it was, and he thought perjury was the best way out. No, he was leading them into a trap. She listened to his ravings, and the agreement of the other passengers, with a sinking heart: this was going to fail. Only Rmwtyliin seemed to grasp the difficulties of keeping a group's story together under interrogation, and she was utterly unprepared to do it.

Chedastan wrote:"You do realize that if they brought in any witnesses that heard me say General, or the Wilhelm Imperium, and cared to mentioned that, this whole plan could fail right there. And I personally, do not like the idea of dishonoring my Wilhelm, his Imperium, and our patron God. By that principle alone, I am against this, and I've been Captain one time already... It was not a very enjoyable experience at all." He said to the Nifid, whilst crossing his arms.

If Amanda hadn't been shackled to the wall, she would have fallen over from shock: General Foot-in-Mouth was talking sense? The situation must truly be dire.

Amanda did her best to address where Rodney's voice seemed to be coming from. "I surprisingly find myself in agreement with Romulus. This plan requires us to get very lucky over and over again, and for whatever passes for law enforcement here to be both clumsy and stupid. That is not going to happen."

This is all just basic storytelling. I've been doing this since law school. Once upon a time... "It's not only that nobody remembers hearing Romulus' rank, it's also that none of the border guards had the wit to pick up that scrap of paper he was waving around as credentials. If any of them have done that, this plan is already sunk."

First Crisis: "We also need to be taken to the judge without anybody searching us. I'll admit I'm baffled that they haven't searched us already -- nobody even frisked me for my gun -- but I have a bad feeling they're going to do that sooner or later. Once they search us and have our IDs, we're sunk."

Second Crisis: "But suppose they're just too dim to recognize the need to do that. Is it possible that this judge might wonder why the outgoing chargé d'affaires of an embassy lacks his own diplomatic credentials, or even Nifid ID? Or that none of us who are supposedly embassy employees have them? You're the only one who can back his claim with anything like evidence: there's nothing in my calendar to even suggest I have a job, much less that I'm somehow associated with an embassy. Anybody trained at cross-examination will think of asking for these sorts of proofs, and we don't have them."

Climax: "But let's go so far as to suppose we do manage to pull the wool over the judge's eyes: he's drunk or doddering... or just too corrupt to care what our story is. Even then, he's only the prelude to the day's main performance. We're supposed to meet with the City Council. Are we going to tell them the same story? How then would we bring up the other Residents as a Nifid delegation? Or do we tell them the truth, and hope that they're just too dumb to ask the judge what we said to him? We're going to get caught."

Denouement: "And all of this assumes we're not caught already. There's some trade between The Burrows and Ascalon. Rumors of the Building's arrival may have preceded us, and if they have, the judge and the Council may already know who Mr. Itum and I are... or they may by the time we meet them. Mayor Mercer met with Representative Itum yesterday. I visited The Burrows. If somebody has passed on the names Itum or Bela, we're blown. And I'm not the only Bela in town: Sandy made himself very popular yesterday keeping the locals alive. People are unlikely to miss the coincidence of two Belas arriving at once."

Amanda shook her head in frustration. And they lived unhappily ever after... "No, this is all far too dangerous. The truth is safer: we are a diplomatic mission, from a large group of people Demens brought here personally. Mayor Mercer can vouch for us. That's much better than a pretty story that will collapse at the slightest touch."

by **The Carlisle** » Tue Dec 01, 2015 7:07 pm

Kale's troubled face turned to a look of surprise when Sandy said the sheep was scared of her. I mean, it did screech when it looked at her, but that could be a coincidence... or not. Maybe the sheep could sense magic? It would make sense. This whole place exuded magic though malicious in nature. Maybe it was to tell if there was a magical threat or not. And maybe tell if they were powerful. It reminded her once again about the great power she held within her, scary enough for her government to isolate her from society. No doubt it would scare magic sensing sheep.

Magic that went wild, like it did before the voices said, their messages seeping through the holes in her mental defense, opened up by the previous line of thought. Kale grimaced in anguish, placing her left hand on her forehead and slightly pinching it, shaking her head as if to cast the thoughts out. The obsidian pieces of her necklace rattled, clinking together from the shaking. The forest was doing its best to break her.

When Nila mentioned alleviating the mental pain, Kale looked to her with great yearning. Nila's powers would ease the burden and pain the forest was causing her mind. But then again, Nila would be unable to assist beyond that. And Kale didn't feel like burdening her with the task of holding up her mental barriers just because she herself was having trouble maintaining them. Kale looked away from her, ashamed but still unsure.

Aegis piped up, talking more strategy. Kale looked to him as he discussed what she would do. She nodded along with what he said, agreeing with the plans. "Yea... I can herd the adults and trap them. I don't plan on letting any of them to escape, but... if some do, it'll be easier to handle than a whole herd..." She said, looking to Sandy, then Nick, then Ocho, and lastly Nila. The plan proposed would allow her to focus on alleviating the mental pains. And if Kale was to take the lead and protect them from the sheep, then she needed to focus on maintaining her magic more than her mental defenses.

"I'll need to focus almost entirely on my magic, and your powers would help a lot. This place is hurting my mind greatly, and it will be hard to focus on both my magic and my mental defenses," Kale said, her shame gone but the anguish still on her face.

by **Highfort** » Wed Dec 02, 2015 5:46 pm

Septimus snorted at the Nifid's suggestion, "With all due respect, Mr. Bodkins, Mrs. Bela and General Aphrodisiac are right. Not all of us presented ID at the checkpoint but, no doubt, what was presented would be enough to debunk that cover story. Not to mention the General's stunning entrance in which he left a printed list of credentials with them."

Eyeing Romulus and Insidious warily, he grunted as the truck hit yet another pothole and slammed his back against the hard metal walls of the truck, "You were no help at that checkpoint, although I will grant you, General, that you at least complied after realizing your idiotic mistake. You, Ms. Insidious, nearly got us killed and you're lucky they worried more about protecting the civilians in the area than dealing with us. If someone tells you to do something and they are in a position of authority in this city, then you obey."

"You obey, do you understand?" his eyes narrowed as he focused on Insidious, "You do not resist, you do not yell, you do not reach for anything suspicious. We're not in any position to be resisting and, anyways, our goal here should be to foster good relations with the city. We should make an effort to be their friend, not their enemy."

It was then that the truck slowed to a stop and muffled voices could be heard from the cabin. Septimus turned in alarm before realizing that they'd reached wherever the Judge resided and it was time to put on the show.

"Everyone," he said quickly, the sound of footsteps outside the metal walls of the armored truck punctuating his words, "We stick to honesty. We're from the Building, Mr. Demens sent us here, and we're friendly. We have lots to offer the city and they likewise have lots to offer us and we can benefit from a mutua-"

His voice died in his throat as the chains on the back of the truck rattled and the harsh light of day flooded into the truck's holding compartment. Squinting, the cyborg's eyes adjusted to reveal two men pointing shotguns at the diplomats. Both wore armor similar to that of the guards, though their fatigues were painted black rather than blue and the armor pieces they did have on appeared to be reinforced with kevlar plating and metal pieces. Servos and the hissing of steam betrayed that segments of the armor functioned as a powered exoskeleton, and Septimus had little desire to figure out just how powerful those metal-gloved hands could be when their owner was threatened.

"Step out of the vehicle, single file, hands out of your pockets," the guard on the left cocked a helmet-covered head before turning to his partner, "Yo, usual routine?"

"Yeah, shake 'em down, scan, and ID - boss's orders," the guard on the right chuckled, though the laugh came out distorted through the modulator on his helmet, and turned to face the visitors, "The Judge's taken a liking to you, dunno why. Seems like you're more trouble than you're worth."

Septimus was the first to step out, insisting on being the face to represent the group, "We mean you no harm, the problem at the gate was a misunderstanding, officers."

"Yeah, yeah, Judge'll decide that, just take it easy," the guard on the left replied, poking Septimus with his shotgun as a third guard strode up and began patting the cyborg down, "After Lennox gets through patting you down, proceed to the concrete bunker in front of the gate. You'll be scanned there for anything dangerous and it'll either be disabled or confiscated for the duration of your visit. If this is a problem, we can always get you a Love Box."

"Love Box?" Septimus shuddered as rough hands slipped over his legs before Officer Lennox nodded at the two by the door and found Septimus clear.

"Love Box," Lennox replied, his grin not obscured by a mask, though scars around his lips turned it into a grimace, "Dark, cold, impossible to get out of from the inside. But you can hear and be heard so Judge can meet with you anyways. Trust me, you don't want a Love Box. Alright, head over to the bunker. Next!"

As the trio of guards awaited the next passenger in the diplomatic group to step up for a pat down, Septimus surveyed his environment. Judge's Palace was splayed before him, a massive concrete and steel castle which reminded him more of a prison than an opulent residence for a justice. Contrasting sharply with the shacks and dilapidated apartments surrounding the complex itself, the Palace was enclosed by what appeared to be trenches, barbed-wire fencing, and guard towers with massive flood lights regularly sweeping the adjacent streets and alleyways. The cyborg let a shiver run through him, though it was well-concealed by his thick robes. Was all of Urbem Ascalon an Orwellian nightmare?

"Get moving, I don't have all day," a voice crackled over the intercom from a nearby guard tower, "Concrete bunker's ahead of you. Take it easy, visitor."

Rapid footsteps and cold sweat accompanied the cyborg as he made haste and stepped down the neat, grass-lined asphalt walkway and into the aforementioned bunker - an ugly, rectangular slab of white concrete painted with odd symbols, most likely of the Judge's security forces.

"To Protect And Serve", the motto said beneath the spray-painted outline of an owl with two massive eyes. The image made him nervous.

Stepping into the bunker, he found himself encased in a shatterproof glass box with a bevy of wires and circuits sitting above his head. A thin laser line appeared on one end and slowly crossed the box's area, passing over the cyborg with a low droning noise.

"Stand still for a moment, please, the scanner has to make multiple passes to check all your internals and your cybernetics," a friendly male voice sounded over the bunker's intercom, "We'll get you outfitted to meet the Judge in just a moment."

by **Northwest Slobovia** » Wed Dec 02, 2015 7:06 pm

Fvaarniimar wrote:<What's the music? I don't want to be eaten, so I don't think jumping on them is smart! Maybe if there's a spot they can't reach...> Sandy found himself watching 'Nick' shave a still sheep with his claws, and then slightly embarrassed. <I doubt it's that easy.>

He wriggled into a fairly secure scarf-like position, head facing forward. For several moments Sandy saw three images: his normal vision complete with Sight, Nick's delayed by some fraction of a second, and a very blurry scene. Eventually this last resolved into a colorful, fairly clear image of the area ahead of the pair, complete with spooky eyes towards the edges, and largely replaced normal vision in both brains. <Does this work? Do you prefer the other way?>

Sandy blinked, staggered a half step, then watched with fascination as the sensations rearranged themselves in his mind. Although he still bore a dazed expression on his face, he was happy as a puppy with a new toy. Very interesting, Nick, verrry interesting! I have magic that expands my senses -- he recalled the last time he and Amanda had walked to Chaos, giving Nick a taste of a wolf's even greater sensory range -- but nothing like this! And I'm usually the only one watching the show, but now you're here with me. This will be interesting.

As to your question, the music is the ambient magic. It's... very strange: more like a strong enchantment than anything else, combining elements of Fey and Olympian magic. I'm not sure what that means, but I think there's an intelligence behind it: it sang a verse of a poem to me a little while ago. He brought it to mind for Nick's benefit. Once you get used to Seeing and Hearing magic, you'll just know what it is, the same way you can just tell red from blue with my eyes.

Sandy looked out into the Garden of Shadows and fixed his gaze on the nearest pair of sheep. Moments later, he burst out laughing at what he Saw. "The sheep are color-coded! I'm not sure how exactly, but their color reflects their emotions. The one in the Burrows started off green, which I take to be happy enough, and then turned crimson when it saw us... or Kale. So now we can sort the calm ones from the upset ones, and try to keep them all nice and calm. If we can do that, there's no need to worry about their screeching."

Primordial Luxa wrote:He then turned to the others and said “She will protect the rest of you while Kale, Nick and Sandy will take the lead, it will be Kales job to offer protection and try and herd the group into a single enclosed area. For now let’s say the center of the clearing we can have Kale create a dome around all of them and then deal with any attempts to escape as they present yourself. Ocho your out second line and should advance if anyone looks like they're in trouble or any sheep look like they're about the escape. That sound fair? Oh and step across on three right.”

The Carlisle wrote:Aegis piped up, talking more strategy. Kale looked to him as he discussed what she would do. She nodded along with what he said, agreeing with the plans. "Yea... I can herd the adults and trap them. I don't plan on letting any of them to escape, but... if some do, it'll be easier to handle than a whole herd..."

Sandy slowly emerged from the reverie he shared with Nick, and he closed his eyes -- and asked Nick to close his -- to better focus on the conversation. "Erm... yes, we all step in on three." There was a pause, while Sandy found words to respond to the key points Aegis raised. Telepathy was seductively easy; thoughts were much easier to share than words.

"Trap the adults? I don't think they'll like that. The poem said to distract the adults and lead them away. I'm not sure we need force for that; we just need something they like. I have an inkling what that might be. I had a vision of sorts walking through the Wyld: the local magic sang me a verse of another poem. I think we might be able to might be able to distract or lead them with something that shines like fire. I can make fireworks with magic, but I'm not sure that's quite what we need. I'm willing to try, though. Music might keep the sheep calm, though I'm less sure about that, or which sort of music we'd need. Can anybody here sing?"

While waiting for an answer, Sandy conjured a few sparkles, seeing if the local magic -- or the intelligence behind it -- would work with him. He cautiously dipped into it, curious if it would sustain his pyrotechnics without needing his whole attention, and ideally, providing him with a bit of a boost to make the display a few feet tall. Even though he knew intellectually that the fireworks were nothing but light and sound, he felt the need to keep them well clear of the Wyld's branches. Would a symbolic fire hurt them? He didn't know, and didn't want to find out.

by **Monfrox** » Wed Dec 02, 2015 8:45 pm

Hours had passed since the elevator incident. Night came and went, sure, like it always did, but one more soul hadn't gone to rest like the others had. A clipboard dropped onto a table.

"And...that's...it...every single...thing...down to the...last drop of morphine." Brit said, yawning.

The girls eyes were barely open as she looked around the room. The fifth floor was now a hospital, it seemed. She remembered people advising against going or even asking what was on it before. She hoped that whatever it was was relocated to somewhere different and out of the way, or better yet gone altogether. But, her job was done, and Sandy may question her method but her results spoke for themselves. Well, she hoped they would at least. With all that had happened yesterday, it was starting to slowly catch up to her. She shambled out and made rounds around the building, collecting her bags and equipment. Sadly, the elevator was out, or at least that's what she figured from what happened earlier.

The trip up the stairs was arduous, and very slow as Brit took it step by step until she reached her floor. She shuffled her feet on in and then dropped her stuff onto the floor. She began changing into a white t-shirt and gym shorts, remembering the things she saw. Only then did it really seem to get to her. She made the correlations. No matter how she spun it, there was no getting around that people died because of her inaction and inability. She blamed herself, as always, but she wasn't dealing with the emotional stress of death well, not to mention the fact that she had caused it. Yesterday was a real red letter day for her life. She wouldn't forget it, but she hoped it wouldn't haunt her. She was exhausted, fatigued, and weak. She shut her blinds and crawled into bed.

Hopefully, Sandy would be thankful for her work and time. It was one step on her way to showing him that she could still do things. And yet, her mistakes would loom over her for the rest of her life. She would never be entirely confident in a position where people's lives were in her hands again. It was a very sobering experience, but emotionally she didn't want to deal with it. All the weight on her made her sick. Perhaps with other, more skilled healers, Sandy wouldn't need her anymore. She just hoped she could tell him that herself instead of him coming to that inevitable conclusion. That'd make her feel a bit better about herself. For now, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

by **Swith Witherward** » Wed Dec 02, 2015 9:57 pm

UA

Rodney scooted out second, grateful the others' feedback had been delivered in the nick of time. There wasn't time to express it, of course, as he fell into line behind Septimus and stood blinking in the pale, predawn mist.

Although he could not hear Septimus' mental assessment, Rodney would have partially agreed with it. Urbem Ascalon was Orwellian indeed, but it was no nightmare. The city and its ways comforted him to no end. He followed the cyborg down the the walkway as though he hadn't a care in the world. He was a brand new little fish in a great big pond. Those little fish got eaten - CHOMP CHOMP! - or they learn all the secrets and, in time, become big fish themselves. Rodney would settle for being a somewhat smallish fish, however; everyone was always looking for bigger fish to fry.

He patiently awaited his turn at the scanner. His biologics would register as human. In fact, poor Rodney was a human with a replaced hip and a rebuilt shoulder (he would sigh as he explained it away as old college sporting injuries that had finally got the best of him in later years). He hadn't any weapon. He hadn't anything on him at all save for his papers, some ordinary chewing gum, and other bland pocket essentials. Yes, it's perfectly alright if you want to turn off the datapad. In fact, you may hold on to it while we're occupied elsewhere.

The only thing the old Nifid would politely object to would be a blood draw. These were forbidden for religious reasons. However, if they insisted, he supposed he would need to provide it; they would find it to be ordinary human DNA with just one too many white blood cells - Rodney had a cold.

Thaddeus was a horse of another color. The crunchy old cyborg maintained his neutral expression and polite demeanor, but he was up front about his feelings on the matter.

"You may scan me. You will have a difficult time deactivating me," he explained to the guard helping to process them. "I'd prefer this 'love box' rather than compromise my systems and what's left of my organs." He offered a few other details which, sad to say, this writer is unaware of - rest assured that Thaddeus' handler has shared them with Septimus' handler, and they've sorted it between them.

As a show of good faith, Thaddeus removed the tip to a Mechadendrite and handed it to the man. It was the laser assembly, just a routine tool that could also be viewed as a weapon in the wrong hands.

APARTMENT 4J

Something that is expensive is not necessarily something that is valuable. I learned this early on. While the efforts to fashion my sisters and me were extremely costly, we had very little value to the Nifid. That is to say that our lives had zero net worth. We were tools, machines, things set into motion at a whim. Only results mattered, and so our worth was not based on our Being but upon our Doing, and the sum of our efforts. We constructs were expendable for that reason and, once we could no longer produce desired results, our biomatter was subject to reclamation. The process itself is gruesome and still serves as an excellent motivator; you are still alive when your molecules begin to drift apart, you see.

I refused to let that be my end. I stayed very busy Doing. That sounds very busy in itself until you consider the vastness of space and how much time passes between invasions. And invade we did, although the Nifid would never use that word. They would say we Shepherded. I say we exterminated but my perspective is skewed by my function. After all, I am the thing you see when negotiations fail, and when peace talks have gone sour, so you'll please excuse me if I fail to see the Nifid as droll little aliens championing peace and health to the the inferior races inhabiting the universe's starchildren.

It's laughable, really. You are all vermin to the Nifid, each of you nothing but an enviropathogen infesting your planet and visiting disease and illness upon it in the name of government, progress, religion, convenience, or whatever pitiful ideology governs you. Your ideals! Bah. What arrogance it is on the part of humankind to believe that life must have some great encompassing "purpose" which comes from somewhere outside and can be found by philosophizing and belly button inspection. What's wrong with "we're here because we're here?" Eat, sleep, shit, fuck, die. Embrace your purpose. Your gods have forsaken you. Hope, redemption, afterlife, and salvation are empty concepts that conceal the realization that existence is pointless. Take a hard look into the abyss.

Actually, don't. Nietzsche's metaphors are poetic. In actuality, in the literal dark corners of the galaxies, there are monsters you can never become, and the bottomless chasm teems with creepy-crawlies. We don't represent anything abstract. We eat, sleep, shit, fuck, and die, and fulfill our purpose. Some of us, like myself, have the luxury of traveling outside that well. We emerge and take a good look at the beings around us, and question why you do the things you do. Except for me. I didn't give two shits about humanity. Instead, I question why such a great Thinker would permit a woolly caterpillar to live under his nose. Perhaps he called it Hope because it existed outside of him.

There's no such thing as a detached observer. I should mention that. For Nietzsche, the abyss is perhaps nihilism where the core being and ethos of civilization collapses and the bottom of all culture falls away. For me, it is home. The Void. The dark matter. Everything outside the abyss is Wonderland, an optimism we are conditioned to dread. It is a construct's ruin. The farther we travel, the more curious it becomes.

My ruin began the day my tether was stretched too tightly. It came as a complete shock to me. There I was, fulfilling my purpose by purging the witherward, when SNIP! Bastards. My saving throw in the Game of Life was quick adaptation. I nodded my head and told them exactly what they wanted to hear. I thought that would be the end of it. I thought they would believe me and welcome me into their Wonderland where I could eternally frolic with all the other talking animals capering about this false utopia, bobbing my head at maladroit leadership and clapping my hands at the notion of peace.

I was partially correct. I would be allowed that luxury, but first I had to atone.

Reclamation would have been preferable.

What is good? For one moment, let us presume ‘Good’ means a lack of self-centredness. It means the ability to empathize with other people, to feel compassion for them, and to put their needs before your own. It means, if necessary, sacrificing your own well-being for the sake of others’. It means benevolence, altruism and selflessness, and self-sacrifice towards a greater cause - all qualities which stem from a sense of empathy. It means being able to see beyond the superficial difference of race, gender or nationality and relate to a common human essence beneath them. Imagine living all your life as a good person.

Now imagine being thrust into a society where 'Good' people are those who are unwilling to empathize with others. As a result, their own needs and desires are of paramount importance. In fact, other people only have value for them to the extent that they can help them satisfy their own desires, or to which they can exploit them. Other beings are just objects to them, which is what makes their brutality and cruelty possible, yet these beings are well tended because, without them, the whole could not function. Everything has an order. All things must fall into it. Perfection is achieved when everything does its purpose. Submit or die. This is the Nifid way. These values and this ideology are paramount.

I came from that society. I came from it, and found myself in a Wonderland where everything about my former culture was deemed evil. I had done no wrong by Nifid standards. I lived my entire life as a 'good' person. But Wonderland proclaimed me evil, and called me Malice, and sought to punish me for being good. They made me atone because I failed to meet their moralistic values despite the fact that their values were, to me, evil. I was forced to become evil, and to call it good.

My life degraded into hell after my physical atonement ended. I emerged emotionally scarred. I was given new purpose - one that did not match my design. I was sent into the world to do 'good' and assigned to someone that would never let me forget that I was evil. Stupid Neste, a fiddlehead. A criminal. A nuisance. A pesterer. Worthless. Soulless. Empty. Unworthy. Unloved. Unwanted. I bobbed my head with the fervor of an antebellum Negro placating her master's temper. Perhaps I might have grown to love the lash in time, allowing it to reshape my thoughts further and craving its caress when unsure of myself? I was certainly at that crossroad. Nietzsche's abyss became more than a metaphor, and it was nothing akin to the comforting depths I had first sprung from.

And then I met Him.

He eloquently spoke of a society that sought to benefit the universe. The more he spoke, the more I realized that his society was good. Not 'good' by my new home's standards. No, it was 'good' by Nifid.

Personification Life: EPIC (IC Thread XI) [CLOSED]

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