@EliteCommander

Kolvar Stilmyst

Arancini Barberio

Kolvar clapped his S’tor hands together to the beat of the Glen’s music. His people enjoyed the music of the other species. Glen’s type of music was a particular favourite of the Kriliterans. Kolvar had poured himself a glass of so-called” Italian wine.” It tasted much like the wine that was made in Kanth-Amerek, so he didn’t think it was anything special. Kolvar was positioned beside General Kvarr. This was fortunate because he could speak to the general about what his plan was to protect the ship. However, he would need to do so that Silbermine would not listen to their conversation. “General, do you mind if I ask you what your plan is to protect the ship from being annexed? I believe having dinner and drinking with Silbermine will not change his mind. He seems dead set on claiming the ship. And with the lack of progress in humans arming themselves, they do not have much to defend themselves.” Kolvar was skeptical but worried that with alcohol being introduced things could get heated. Kolvar continued eating while speaking to the general.

Meanwhile, Arancini was enjoying the conversations that were going on. “So mancare Kareet. do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” When given permission to do so continued with his questioning. “I was told by Kerchek that your people worship a god named Niftari, what kind of rituals do you prepare to worship them? Are their other gods the Tekerians worship, or is it just the one? These next set of questions are about your biology. Are your species herbivore, carnivore, or omnivore? How miles per hour can you fly? And do you excrete your waste though one hole? Birds on our planet have something called a cloaca, which contains their intestinal, urinary, and genital tracts opening.” The man was leaning closer toward her, she would notice he had a notebook and pen in his hands.

---

With the Warden, Kvarr seemed even more relaxed than he had been in the tent with Nellara. There was little doubt that this meeting was more of a reunion for them. The S’tor gave quite a hardy laugh with his look back towards Esedel. “It’s funny, you say that every time you see me, Sister. Haven’t seemed to have shrunk down below you yet. Hmph, or maybe that Life mage didn’t quite put me back right?” He chuckled.

---

General Kvarr may not have had quite the appetite as Esedel, but he was still S’tor. Naturally speaking, the S’tor were certainly predators, but they were not strictly carnivores like the Tekeri. From their rugged and dangerous homeland, they were built to be survivors first and foremost. They were omnivores whose bodies seemed to be able to safely handle anything that could be reasonably classified as “food”, even many things that were widely considered to be toxic. That was part of why they were often able to grow to such impressive sizes themselves. That, and the truly gargantuan creatures of their homeland that they were able to make their prey.

Naturally, Kvarr was in the middle of an oversized tankard of beer when Kerchek tried to grab his attention with his questioning. The S’tor tilted his head as he examined the mostly-Tekeri individual before him. Perhaps to the surprise of any Humans observing, he did not so much as bat a metaphorical eyelash at the hybrid features of Kerchek’s current body. “And who might you be, my friend? A Life mage, I presume. By the way you are speaking, I can assume that you are not one of the Castigator’s people?”

---

---

As she was speaking with Vigdis, Kareet soon found herself essentially barraged by questions from another of the Humans. Ignoring the irony of that situation, the first of his questions captured Kareet’s curiosity. She just blinked and stared back at him in silent contemplation for a short time. “Kerchek said this to you? ‘Niftari’ is not a Tekeri god. The only god still sometimes worshiped in the Ascendancy is Setia. Niftari isn’t a Glen god either…or S’tor. Definitely not Iriad. Something from some small tribe, maybe? What language is that, even…” Her voice trailed off.

@EliteCommander

Kolvar Stilmyst

Arancini Barberio

“I apologize for not introducing myself, my name is Kerchek I am a life mage and a researcher of sorts in my spare time. But perhaps you would be kind to answer my questions, how will you be able to convince Silbermine to not annex the ship? I am worried that with your presence that he will feel pressure to try and take the ship by force.” Kolvar took another sip of the beer that had been provided. Leaning in a little closer just so Kvarr could hear him. Once again glaring over towards Silbermine. Although he didn’t like the S’torians at the table including Kvarr however, he disliked Silbermine a lot more. Silbermine was a bully that thought he and his associates could get away with destroying people’s lives without any consequences. They would need to stop Silbermine before he can cause any serious harm to humans. Kolvar was not going to miss the chance to study these aliens because Silbermine wanted to claim some flying ship.

“Yes, he said that to me, I just thought that was the god you worshiped. But if it isn’t then perhaps Kolvar could have misunderstood my question, perhaps he could be lying about who he really is.” A suggestion that would make Kareet think about if everything Kolvar had told her was true. Writing down that the Tekerian god was named Setia. “So I assume most of the Tekerians are atheistic while a minority is theistic, how very interesting. What kind of god do S’tor, and the glen folk worship?” He said now jotting down more notes.

”So instead of an honor duel it’s gonna be a no-holds-barred beatdown. Great.” Vgidis said with a great deal of sarcasm. Kvarr seemed to be a bit more level-headed from what she could see, though Esedel’s deference to Silbermine still gnawed at any growing peace of mind. Maybe things would be easier if he met with a tragic accident when out looking for the lost cargo. Stumbled upon a crate of damaged mining charges, body couldn’t be recovered, impossible to prove foul play… The locals needn’t know how stable modern plastic explosives actually were. Eh, no worries, Ezra probably already had a plan.

She was going to ask something else, but seeing Kareet under siege, she decided the learned bird could use some breathing room. Instead she separated a portion of the Shirik Sea Monster, bringing it to the shotgun-toting stickfigure that was her fellow grease monkey. ”You look like you could eat something. How’s your back?” She handed him the leaf-wrapped fish and took over his watch with her weapon.

Looking at the gathering from ‘the outside’ was bizarre in a way. Twenty hours ago, things were… heated. Now they were sitting around the table, eating, drinking and singing. Or whatever passed for singing to these people. ”This week’s been a fucking fever dream, and I don’t know if it’s finally getting better or if this is the calm before the storm. Did your history teacher ever tell you that story of the Russian and German ambassadors meeting for dinner and wine as friends the day before World War One, both knowing their countries would be at war the next day?” Getting an idea of how people were feeling was hard when they were members of a species unknown a week ago. Nellara looked calm, but was she? Kvarr and Esedel seemed cordial, or was it an elaborate facade and they were already planning to shank each other?

“Thanks. Still hurts like fok.” Varen replied, accepting the leaf from Vigdis with his free hand. His South African accent was weak after decades spent with the ESA in Europe, but resurfaced when he spoke in Afrikaans. Usually for slang or to say something really inappropriate.

Varen knelt down and gently leant his Benelli against a protruding rock.

“Doc says that I have a herniated disk which is pinching some nerve.”

He straightened up, took his boonie hat off then pulled off his mask and hooked it onto the bandolier of shotgun shells around his waist.

“The pain would go in a couple weeks if I didn't spend all day stuffed under the floor fixing fokken cabling.”

He shoved a wad of grilled fish into his mouth and chewed, eyes flicking around to take in the scene before them.

“No, but that sounds like ECOWAS every other month. I hope Cap knows not to trust any of these aliens, if our own species is anything to go on…do all these guys know each other?” He gestured vaguely towards the feast.

---

Esedel’s reptilian eyes narrowed at Shirik. A noise like one of the Humans’ Geiger counters rumbled in her throat.

“Ahh, I know. Do you have a penchant for Damage? We stopped a game in the camps some decades past; caught a rogue Thought mage who continues to serve me.”

Esedel swept an arm towards the manacled S’tor flanked by Inquisitors who stood some way behind her. They winced. The Warden looked back at Shirik.

“I thought I smelled burning then.”

Damage was a forbidden card game in Mythadia. Players are linked with a Thought mage that allows each to project emotions at the others. The object is to make other players under- or overestimate their chances of winning, to make reckless decisions or even induce them to commit suicide. Spectators can tune in to the players' inner turmoil and thoughts, activity which can be addictive and hazardous to sanity.

Nellara listened to General Kvarr's words in silence nodding as he finished. Nellara was never someone to lose her composure, regardless of the situation, but she still found it hard to stand silent when someone disrespected her nation. No matter what happened regarding Silbermine though, Nellara would keep her word regarding the warden. As long as they maintained a civil behavior and respected the Ascension, no hostile words would be said or actions would be taken.

Nellara's posture or expression didn't change as General Kvarr greeted the S'tor Warden. Cold, serious and unyielding. Her piercing eyes could be clearly felt, watching everything that happened and undoubtedly, listening to everything that was said.

Despite General Kvarr treating Silbermine with much more respect than he actually deserved, his posture was still undeniably arrogant, as he clearly showed by his response.

"Greetings, Warden." Nellara replied, with a stiff, inflexible military greeting, much like her very posture.

"I was responsible merely for the small group of soldiers that were initially brought to scout the crash. The one who should receive the honor for the army's discipline is General Kvarr." she replied after the warden asked her about the discipline from the soldiers that came with the general.

After the greetings were made, the feast proposed by General Kvarr started, with the Tekeri soldiers bringing meat and the Mythadians bringing a multitude of vegetables. While the tension in the air seemed to drop by a considerable degree, Nellara still seemed to be on guard as she ate some of the meat brought by the Tekeri soldiers, her eyes still sharp as she watched every single movement made by the Mythadians.

"Ixtaro." Nellara said, greeting the human with an amicable nod as she turned towards her.

"The circumstances... Much like at least some of the company, could be better..." Nellara said, clearly referring to Silbermine in specific.

"But the soldiers certainly seem to be enjoying some time to rest and relax, at least. Besides, it is a good opportunity for them to start to get used to the humans and know more about them." She finished with a satisfied expression as she looked to the Tekeri soldiers.

When Ixtaro mentioned the Glen's... 'peculiar' taste in music, Nellara seemed to agree to her, nodding before she replied.

"Taste in music is largely cultural... Although I do have to agree with you regarding the Glen's music. Personally... I find it hard to see beauty in the lack of order, rhythm or melody the dissonant chaos they call music seem to have." Nellara said.

While Nellara didn't define her preference in music, the words she used would give Ixtaro the feeling her taste was closer to classical music, complex and technical scores and arrangements that required harmony and precision to be performed.

Anselm listened to Mallory talk from her chair at the back of the bridge and smiled.

“It's a good speech, sir. ” She swung around in her chair, massaging her eye sockets with the palm of each hand.

“Why don’t we go and get some fresh air? Let Wodan handle things for a while. I could do with stretching my legs, and they could use some more manpower out there.” Anselm stretched her arms and stood up, glancing back to the exterior camera feeds. Their long haired Norwegian musicians had sidled up to the impromptu Mythadian bands with cups of mead in hand. She watched with amusement as they attempted to join in with percussion, tapping forks against their cups and slapping metal crates.

---

Kvarr’s expression did little to betray his thoughts. Despite the nature of Kerchek’s line of questioning, he did little to react apart from a friendly smile back at the Life mage. “My friend, there are times and places for certain conversations, and I believe this is the time for a different one. Believe me that I have seen enough lifetimes of war to know how to wage it, but there is an even greater talent in knowing how to avoid it. We have, in this place, good food, music, and a chance to speak without the trappings of aggression. Perhaps you might benefit from taking advantage of this opportunity?”

---

---

It took a while for Kareet to pull herself from her train of thought. She had been asked a question to which she did not know the answer, but felt like she should. In preparations for traveling the continent, she had learned of the local customs and beliefs of many different parts of the world in order to more easily integrate herself with foreign populations, but this deity’s name was simply not one she recognized. It could not be a major one, or she would remember it.

Eventually, Kareet did focus her attention back on Arancini. “Hmm, yes your instincts are correct. The only one of the old Tekeri gods whose worship survived in the Ascendancy is Setia, the goddess of the natural order; I suspect because her teachings are compatible with the philosophies of the Archmagister. Personally…I do not have a need for deities. As for the Glen and S’tor, the gods they have are many, and it could take quite a while to describe them all.”

---

---

It was simple and easy for Wodan to process the meaning of Mallory’s anecdote, though his mind was not programmed to make decisions in the same way as a Human. Much of Human history had already been included in his training data, but there were more potential variables at play that could make it problematic to draw conclusions from their own history. “It may be dangerous to apply assumptions about Human decision making to alien psychology. What is expected for Humans may not suit the logical and emotional priorities of an alien lifeform. In the absence of other data, drawing conclusions from the experience of Human history may be the best option available, but for as long as there is peace between these factions, we do have the opportunity to collect behavioral data on these species.”

@EliteCommander

Kolvar Stilmyst

Arancini Barberio

“Perhaps so but you probably understand my concern for how this conflict could go. We could lose the opportunity of a lifetime to learn about these foreigners. We could possibly learn how to make flying ships from them." He took another sip of the beer in his cup before taking a deep breath. “But you are right I should be enjoying this rather rare occasion. Speaking of rare occasions, I am amazed that all of us are here eating together. I would assume that Shirik and or Nellara would have tried to attack Silbermine.” Kolvar took another few sips of his cup. During the course of the gathering, Kolvar was consuming a considerable amount of alcohol. The effects made him more talkative, however it had a negative effect on maintaining his disguise. His hands started morphing between a Tekerian and then a Kriliteran.His body and face follow suit changing from a different species and back to his original form. Having a panicked look on his face knowing what was going on. His body slowly shed his disguise and revealed his true form to the others, if they were even paying attention.

Arancini meanwhile was writing down everything all of Kareet’s answers. Listening to her quite intensely. Jotting down in his notebook that most of her people must be atheists. His concentration faltered when he noticed Kolvar. “Are you okay?” He asked Kolvar who looked frozen in his seat. He was making some sort of strange moaning noises, before shaking his head to get his back his facilities.

“Yes, I am fine I just to go to the washroom, excuse me..” He said before leaving the table. Walking off and disappearing in the dense thicket of the greenery around them. His mind raced on what his next plan of action should be. He did not anticipate that alcohol would disrupt maintaining his disguise. But perhaps he could come up with an excuse that this was another species he could transform into.

”Well, I hope I'm good company at least. Hell, two more of these,” Itxaro said, hefting up the massive wooden mug, "and I'll be the best company you've ever had." Itxaro paused. Was she flirting? Some sort of nervous impulse? No, she wasn’t nervous. The alcohol made sure of that.

The alcohol. She was getting drunk.

Too late to stop now.

Nellara didn't seem overly-enthusiastic about the party, from what Itxaro could tell, but she admittedly knew very little about Tekeri body language. Nellara did welcome the opportunity to mingle though.

”Good luck getting to know us. Any two people on this ship are about as similar as you and your good friend Lord Silbermine. We’re from all over our world, some from different planets too,” Itxaro replied. "Honestly, I feel like the alien around this crew sometimes.” Itxaro’s speech was beginning to slow, not slur, as she struggled to translate her thoughts into a second language. As if to highlight her “otherness,” Itxaro switched to Spanish, knowing the translator program might not be as accurate, but it was better than fumbling for words. She even tried to sprinkle in the occasional native phrase as she spoke, more for her own benefit than Nellara’s.

"But you’re right. We might be here a while, may as well get familiar, yeah?”

Itxaro grinned broadly at Nellara's takedown of Glenn music; she didn't hate it that much, but nothing brought people together more than shit talking. She cast a glance over at the raucous musicians and let out an audible groan upon spotting the metal band. "Well, if you’re lucky, or I guess unlucky, our stowaway band might just play something for you. Melodic death metal or something, stuff from 300 years old. I still don’t get it personally, but hey, there's rhythm. I think.”

She looked up at Nellara, searching sharp eyes for a sliver of the familiar. Something human. To Itxaro’s surprise, she found it. Faint, but there. Not human, but if she gazed into the mirror long enough she would recognize it. Sentience, she supposed. It was strange, looking into this avian face, so alien, and to find something of yourself in it, no matter how distant. Itxaro shook herself out of what she realized was a drunken musing and returned her attention to the actual conversation.

"So, let me ask you this, Nellara. Ascendency and Mythadia. Obviously, some bad blood there. Eh, animosity. Conflict." Itxaro threw out several words, not sure which would make it through the translator unmuddled. "But I’m assuming it didn’t just start last week with us showing up; what’s the story there?” Itxaro hadn’t meant to bring up politics. In fact, she'd intended to avoid it, trying to artfully steer Nellara away from Silbermine to keep the fragile peace intact. But she simply couldn't help herself. Any conversation worth having, Itxaro thought, revolved around either history or politics.

Of course, right after asking she regretted it, and Itxaro glanced around the party to see if anyone from Silbermine's camp was listening in to their conversation. She caught a glimpse of Kerchak dashing off into thick grass, and if she hadn't been several drinks in, Itxaro could have sworn that the Tekeri's flesh was shifting and rippling as if two entirely different entities were wrestling for control of the same body. Itxaro looked to Nellara, trying and gauge her reaction. "Ehm, is that normal for your people?"

Zey sat quietly at the end of the table around which the majority of the Humans were congregating. She had one of the few regular seats. There weren’t enough crates or tree stumps for everyone to sit, so many attendees on both sides were either standing together or sitting on the ground to eat. Some of the passengers had brought MREs, which they picked at while staring wide-eyed at the baffling array of strange creatures nearby.

Zey stared at each attendee in turn as she nibbled at the food Dr Lambert had confirmed was safe. Glanding earlier had brought the whining in her ears back, and she’d begun to feel a headache. So she took this opportunity to gently gland some of the medical mix Feng had left her with, and think about their situation.

This might be their home now. Zey wasn’t an expert, but she could tell Dr Ibarra was putting a positive spin on her assessments of the jump drive’s condition. For now, they could focus their attention on making the Jo flight-worthy again, but eventually they’d need to confront the reality of their situation. They had very limited access to spare components, and only two people who had any idea how the drive worked. Moreover, none of the star charts made sense anymore - they were lost.

Zey didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, she had a responsibility and obligation to get everyone home safe. However, there was another sensation bubbling away in her core. A sense of excitement at what they had found - a whole new world they could claim as their home! One which hadn’t witnessed the ravages of ecological breakdown and nuclear war, at least as far as she knew. Zey would miss her parents, but as a dull ache one only noticed in the dead of night; they'd grown so distant before this accident anyway she'd felt no difference over the last week.

They could make this work. They had to.

Kolvar abruptly getting up jogged Zey back to reality. She realised she didn’t recognise the abomination now clattering unstably towards the bushes.

“What the fuck?” Zey stood up and turned around to extricate herself from the crowded table. She immediately bumped into Darnell and Ezra; the former was talking loudly to the latter.

“You two, come with me.”

Zey stormed round the table to General Kvarr, the one who had been closest to the thing before it left.

“What was that thing? Why did they leave?”

”Still can’t believe you didn’t get light duty with a fucked up spine.” Vigdis shook her head, ”I guess we really are in the weeds, not just with power.” She wasn’t worried about things she knew well, the structure, the power... Or rather, she knew enough about them to conclude that she didn’t have to worry. And she was completely in the dark on the FTL drive and navigation. Not knowing how bad it was or wasn’t, she pushed it into a dark corner of her mind to be forgotten until it became unsustainable, and she was gonna deal with that impending mental breakdown later. What truly worried her at the moment - aside from conquest by a feudal lord - was their resource situation. They were already going through silver and copper at a rapid rate, and a good chunk of their steels would fall to structural repairs and that’s before accounting for potentially needing to replace a whole engine. Sure, they had the theoretical knowledge to make more, but could they direct the locals to build an entire steel mill or an aluminum furnace? Could they actually be built with locally-available materials? Maybe they could get a company of mages to help them liftoff…

”Well, put so many differences into a small area - not to mention a backwards shithole - and you’ll never get it straightened out without a hard reset.” She shrugged. At his question, Vigdis started pointing out people. ”One side is some sort of hyper-meritocracy from the mountains. Mostly birds. Except big lizardman over there. His folk hail from an empire… up North? I think.”

”The other group are some feudal shithole from the lowlands. Mostly the ponies. Religious bunch. Big boy over there is in charge of the detachment here. Mostly we’re going off what the first group and the independents told us, but he has been an unfiltered asshole at least since the translators started working...“ Unlike Ixtaro, Vigdis didn’t much care if someone from Silbermine’s camp was listening, though she was watching for piercing glares. If they were supposed to get to know the humans, they couldn’t hide behind masks. Figurative masks, she wasn’t risking blindness or something due to the atmosphere.

”Lastly there’s a bunch of randos from all over the place that just happened to wander in here. Two scholars, a blacksmith, a burning tree... Funnily enough, they beat both of the big groups to first contact. Personally, they’re my favorite group so far.”

”Mountain birds, Marsh ponies and Northmen Dragonborn are apparently in a cold war of sorts, each kept in check by the threat of the others. If you tie your army down attacking A, B will kick your ass sort of deal.”

”And to add to this wonderful mess, we’re on a disputed border between the birds and the centaurs. Both claim we’re in their territory. So, yeah. They know of each other, and it would’ve been better if they hadn’t.” He was probably hoping for better news than he got, but you play with the cards you get. Well, unless you fold, but that’s just bad life advice, ”On a positive note, both sides agreed to trade with us, with food and fabrics that won’t be a fire hazard on the way. I can’t see any way this can spiral out of control into another pissing match between them.” The last sentence contained a considerable amount of sarcasm.

"That's alright, Anselm," Jack nods. "I'm still on duty here, but you can go if you want. You can keep an eye on my 'room mates'."

Patrol ships were so crampt, it was a shock to see he'd received so much room. But with a voyage of years, that space could be very important. Sadly, his luggage had been swapped out by a prankster. He watched as she left the bridge.

“It may be dangerous to apply assumptions about Human decision making to alien psychology," Wodan responded. "What is expected for Humans may not suit the logical and emotional priorities of an alien life form. In the absence of other data, drawing conclusions from the experience of Human history may be the best option available, but for as long as there is peace between these factions, we do have the opportunity to collect behavioral data on these species.”

So close, and yet so far.

Jack sighs. "Wodan, I've spent a good deal of my life in hostile, unforgiving environments. I've lost good people due to design flaws, the unexpected, and miscalculations, sometimes by the very people in charge. Whatever assumptions I make are based on the only history and experiences I know, and that's lead me to treat everything with a measure of caution."

"What's out there may be peaceful now, but we're in a very tricky and dangerous domestic situation - just ask any cop. Two factions are gearing up out there, and we're the prize in between. Already there's been moves against us, some by players we've yet to meet."

"And this oversaturated atmosphere won't need much to spark."

Nellara couldn't help but let out a chuckle as Ixtaro raised the wooden mug, mentioning that a few more of those and she would be the best company Nellara ever had. While she wasn't really knowledgeable, at all, about human physiology, Ixtaro's words suggested that they were also affected by alcohol in a similar way the species from Kanth-Aremek were. The idea of having a bunch of drunk humans mingling with soldiers was a very strange one, although it might help them to know and get used to one another.

"It seems like regardless if we are on your planet or ours, no festivities are complete without alcohol." Nellara said with a smirk and a chuckle, noticing how Ixtaro's words were starting to sound a bit different, enough so even the translator seemed to have a few issues in accurately translating them.

Ixtaro's explanation about how different humans could be from one another, mentioned there were even some from different 'worlds' made Nellara quite surprised.

"Even from different worlds? But in the end, you are all humans, right? From the same species." she asked, curiously as she heard Ixtaro's words.

"And yet, despite all that, you are still able to work together in such a well coordinated and remarkable manner to build such marvels like the Jotunheim." Nellara said, taking a glance at the big ship behind them once again.

When Ixtaro mentioned that the humans from the ship might be able to play some music, she reacted with a clearly curious expression. The words she used to describe the music made Nellara quite curious.

"I am undeniably curious to how this such songs praising 'death and metal' would sound like. Electricty and metal, from what I understood, seem to be the very core of human technology, so it's not surprising that an entire genre of music pays homage to it, but why death in particular?" Nellara asked, thinking about the human music Ixtaro mentioned.

While it was quite noticeable that Ixtaro was definitely a bit 'happy' after the few mugs of alcohol, the translator still worked decently well for most things she said, with only a few words getting lost in the translation and even then, Nellara was able to accurately understand what she meant by the context of her words. Such was the case with the strange expression of Mythadia and the Ascension having 'bad blood' between them, which was quickly clarified after she gave a few more examples.

"Hm... This is quite a complex question... While I can definitely agree that there is some animosity between our nations, it's not exactly to the point it becomes a conflict." Nellara said after thinking for a bit, hearing Ixtaro's question.

"Most of the animosity between us come from the differences between our societies. The Ascension is a heavily logic and meritocratic society. Concepts such as 'nobility', 'kings' and 'religion' are considered to be absurd, nonsensical concepts that directly hinder the development of a nation. Meanwhile, the very core of Mythadian society is based on these very ideas... Many of which are inherited by the old tyrannical, warmongering kingdoms that once conquered and ruled over Kanth-Aremek." Nellara explained.

"But despite this... 'animosity', conflicts between our nations were rare and almost nonexistent, since both of our nations respected each other's territory according to the old treaties signed by both kingdoms. The plains and marshes are Mythadian lands and the hills and mountains are ours. Contact between our nations was scarce and there was never any reason for any invasion... That is until Silbermine simply walked inside our territory with a small army and went as far as establishing a military encampment inside our territory and even assemble a full army." Nellara completed with an exhausted sigh.

At the very second Nellara finished explaining Ixtaro's question, she noticed as Kerchak suddenly ran away from the party towards the bushes, his skin and body shifting into a strange form then back into a Tekeri every now and then. While such scene might look grotesque and deeply disturbing for the humans, Nellara was quite aware of how... dangerous the mixture of alcohol and mages were. Due to their powers, intoxicated mages were very unpredictable and often a danger both to themselves and those around them... depending on the degree of intoxication, that is.

"It seems Kerchak had a bit too much to drink..." Nellara said with a disappointed sigh, shaking her head. Such thing was the reason why she avoided drinking anything like alcohol, that could cloud her judgement or hinder her powers. It was also the very same reason why mages were strictly forbidden from using any magic whenever there was a party with alcohol involved.

"Mages and intoxicants are known to be a very... 'volatile' and unpredictable mixture. Controlling your powers with precision becomes quite a challenge when you can't even keep your own balance. The outcome for life mages if they try using any spell while intoxicated tend to be rather... disturbing for those that aren't used to how life magic works." Nellara said.

"Some mages tend to be quite prideful about their magic, so we should give him a few minutes to calm down and control his powers, but if he doesn't come back by then, it might be a good idea for us to send someone to help him. Another life mage would be preferable, but since we don't seem to have any other, a conventional mage would also be quite a good idea." Nellara finished. By the words she used, Ixtaro would likely notice that there was a very good chance that she was excluding herself when she mentioned a 'conventional mage'. The reasons for so were still unknown for her though.

---

Overall, many of the natives were perhaps surprisingly calm at seeing the transformed Kerchek stumble away, at least from the perspective of the Humans. Kvarr was watching with mild curiosity before Zey called for his attention. “That was the Life mage who called himself Kerchek. I can only guess that he tried to make a transformation that did not go as he intended. I did notice he was a few drinks in; perhaps he underestimated their strength? You see, any magic requires precision of mind and body, and drunkenness impairs both. A Life mage does not require effort to maintain a transformation, so I imagine he tried to make some transformation that went awry.”

There was a short pause from Kvarr. He may have had little cause for alarm, but there was a detail that had his curiosity. He glanced off towards the bushes, though Kerchek was already out of sight. “I do not at all recognize what it is he became, though. In all my centuries, I have personally met with every sort of person who calls Kanth-Aremek home, but that was nothing I have seen before. As in, it does not even resemble anything I know of. It could have been a form he created entirely on his own, but he would need to be quite an advanced Life mage to accomplish that.”

Kareet, nearby, had naturally seen Kerchek as well, though even with all of her studies, she struggled to place what she had seen him become. Add on the fact that he had mentioned some strange god she had never heard of, and she found herself wondering exactly where it was he had come from. She would have to do some research if she wanted to find some lead that could place her on the right track.

---

---

The expedition that the Jotunheim, and by extension Wodan, had been slated to undertake had not anticipated encounters with alien life. Yet, the existence of the Yenge had made it a non-zero possibility. Wodan’s creators, in his training data set, had included provisions for that possibility. He had certain base guidelines for how to approach new forms of life, though as always, he could only provide advice for the Human crew members who would be having contact with the locals. His role did not give him the authority to provide orders to them.

“It is my duty to warn you of potential emotional biases in your observations of the locals. You may be inaccurately anthropomorphizing the local populations. They clearly possess the necessary degree of intelligence to be considered sapient, but their natural instincts and brain chemistry may lead them to respond differently to the same stimuli, compared to a Human. It is my…responsibility to warn you that it may be dangerous for you to rely on your previous experiences exclusively with Humans to inform your decisions.”

Danny listened intently to Vigdis while hungrily demolishing the piece of delicious fish he’d been handed. He nodded and his eyes widened or narrowed as the story progressed. The engineer had been working pretty much solidly, so much of this was new to him.

“Sheesh, fairly basic stuff then eh?” He laughed.

“Trade is good, as long as I don’t have to trade my Havaianas for some potato sack foot coverings or some shit. I still need those for inside. What are we giving them in return? More pens?”

---

Esedel stared into Shirik for a few moments, her throat rattling curiously. Then she lifted her snout and laughed, spraying a couple of bits of fungi and fish across the table. The sound was like a burning log cabin falling apart, deep within the forest fire. The Warden slammed a gauntleted fist down on the wooden table, causing mugs and cutlery to jump.

“I like this one!” She pointed a giant clawed finger at Shirik, as if the super conspicuous burning tree was somehow invisible and needed signposting.

“You should recruit it for your retinue, Kvarr. They can reunite you with your family’s legacy, so you can finish burning it to dust.” Esedel grabbed a mug of beer - who knows whether it was hers - and chugged it back, draining the contents.

Zey came over and questioned General Kvarr about Kerchak’s whereabouts. Esedel didn’t turn around from her seat at the table, as she was still looking at Shirik, but she replied in turn.

“I’ll have my own Damage prize investigate. Sh’vetza!” The manacled S’tor Thought mage looked over at Esedel.

“Take my guards and yours to find the Life mage, please. See to it they are alright.”

It was a subtle cultural cue that most in Mythadia and the Ascendency were oblivious to, but influential S’tor occasionally sent their guards away on fabricated errands in new social situations. It was essentially to demonstrate ‘I’m a big enough deal to have people to send away’, ‘I’m the biggest and best in the room so I don’t need guards to be in charge’, and give the green light for an assassination attempt from anyone in their ‘court’ who wanted to seize whatever power they possessed. The S’tor used this to quietly take stock of loyalties and motivations for large groups of people they didn’t know well, but it came with risks. Occasionally there actually was a fight, so you either had to be reasonably confident you’d win, or bold enough to take on a more powerful adversary for personal gain.

The main person Esedel was monitoring in this particular situation was Kvarr; he was the one she’d need to do a deal with to keep these ‘Humans’ safe. However, there were a few other unknown variables present, the burning tree being one of them. Best to get any insurrection out of the way early on.

“Thanks. We’ll go too.” Zey replied. Kvarr’s assessment of Kerchak’s actions was concerning, to say the least. She felt it her duty to investigate. She got on comms with the Bridge.

“Mallory, it's Zey. The life mage who offered to heal our wounded is drunk. I’m heading over to assess the situation with Darnell and Ezra. Where are we up to on the cremation? This lunch is burning valuable daylight we could be using to search for the shuttle. Seems like some burning bodies could help wrap things up. Over.”

With that, Zey headed across the clearing with four S’tor guards (two of them Inquisitors), one Thought mage, Darnell & Ezra to try and find Kerchak. It seemed like the sort of mob that anyone could join if they were so inclined.

Itxaro couldn't stop herself from laughing along with Nellara; it was a strange sound, and until now, the doctor hadn't been certain Nellara was even capable of laughter. Either the Castigator was loosening up, or Itxaro was beginning to get used to her formality. Or she was getting drunk.

"I can't speak for life on Mars, but in my country, a party that doesn't have meat, music, and plenty of booze isn't really a party at all," Itxaro said cheerfully as a passing Glen, barely able to stand, still managed to refill her mug to the brim from a leather pouch. She watched, giggling, as the drunken soldier immersed his entire muzzle into his own mug and took in great, heaving gulps before emerging with a soaked snout. She turned back to Nellara. "A universal truth, maybe? Eh, I guess the Glen and Iriad would disagree," she considered with a shrug, remembering they were vegetarian, or close to it.

Itxaro grew more serious, though no more sober, when Nellara talked of humanity.

"Yeah, we're all the same species, but that's where the similarities end. Different languages, cultures, religions, values, planets, all that shit. There's some idiotas who say we're not the same species, but they're just, ya know, racist," Itxaro said with a scowl. She remembered reading in one of Vigdis' reports that, on KA, only the S'tor killed others of the same species, and briefly imagined human history if humans were more like the Tekeri. She wondered if killing your own kind was simply a condition of being the sole dominant species on a planet. Tekeri certainty didn't have any qualms about going to war with Glen, if Nellara was any judge.

"Humans have been killing each other since the beginning of recorded history. Not like your people. Maybe it's our nature, but I don't buy that. I think, deep down, we're fundamentally good. But we've created this violent culture out of necessity from our history of scarcity, only now it's a poisonous cocoon that we've wrapped ourselves in. We've outgrown it, but we can't figure out how to escape it, can't create the utopia we already have the means to inhabit," Itxaro said, feeling herself rambling, but no longer with the inhibition, nor the desire, to stop herself.

"But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe, even without this culture, we're still just the most savage group of monkeys that ever spilled out of the jungle. Only now, we have engines and bullets and explosives." Itxaro nodded towards the Jotunheim. "That ship? Impressive, sure, but don't fool yourself. It's a weapon. We use them all the time to kill each other. This one just had some special toys on it stolen from some refugee aliens by very greedy people." Itxaro was growing almost angry, her voice rising.

"Let me tell you something about ships like that. 800 years ago, three wooden ships, cutting edge technology at the time, arrived at my homeland. Within a few generations, 95% of my people were dead, and the rest enslaved by the newcomers. All for money. Humans can do horrible things when money is on the line."

Itxaro paused. She'd said too much.

"You know what? Forget I said that. Nobody wants to talk ancient history at a party!" Itxaro said, trying to inject some joviality into her tone, not that it would translate. She hefted up her mug to a passing Tekeri in salute and drank while she thought of some way to turn the conversation away from her favorite topics.

Music. Talk music. That's safe.

Unfortunately, Itxaro didn't really have a great answer for Nellara on the origin of metal. "Death metal, its like... Eh... They sing about death because it's cool? It makes them look strong?" Itxaro grasped, trying to explain such an abstract concept to someone with no point of reference.

"Honestly, I don't get it. Vigdis might have a better answer. She's Norwegian maybe. Or Finnish. Swedish? Nordic, at least," Itxaro said with a shrug. Too bad she didn't ask about Trova music. She looked over to the band and saw, with a frown, that they seemed to be setting up some sort of improvised speaker system gutted from the ship's trashed escape pod, and the solar engineer stowaway was utilizing panels from the same wreckage. "I think you're about to find out where the 'death' part comes from though."

Mercifully, or perhaps not, the conversation took another turn, now towards KA politics.

Itxaro listened with an intense focus possessed only by those not entirely sober, as if they could compensate for their intoxication through sheer force of will. Her intense stare was almost immediately broken by a nearby Tekeri who drank by dipping their beak into their mug, pulling it out, and tilting their head back to let the beer drain down their throat. The image of an old childhood toy her mother had given her came to mind and she desperately held back a laugh, instead snapping her attention back to Nellara.

The Castigator's description of the tension between the two nations was startlingly familiar to Itxaro; she could think of a dozen instances of rising tensions between the old order and the new in human history. She thought of the Napoleonic era, of World War One and the death of the old empires. She wondered if this planet would follow the same trajectory, or if the bloodshed could be averted. The only political or anthropological theories focused on humans, though the the Yenge provided an interesting new landscape for theories, and that field was a muddled nightmare full of misinformation. Itxaro decided to stick with what she knew.

"I hate to tell you this, Castigator, but religions and monarchies? A real bitch to get rid of. We still have some of those dusty old bastards back home, for some reason. People just hang on to tradition, I guess, even if it harms them," Itxaro said, realizing with a slight wince that religion had been brought into the conversation, yet another human faux pas. She pressed on. "Now, my country, we've moved on from both, but unless you can burn them out root and stem, you'll just have to get along with them for now. Kick the can down the road for another, oh, maybe 400 years or so." Itxaro wanted to say more, but managed to stop herself.

The conversation turned to their poor feathered friend Kerchak, running into the bushes with his body rapidly morphing. Nellara seemed unconcerned, explaining simply that mages and alcohol didn't mix. It was then that Itxaro noticed Nellara wasn't drinking at all, and was totally sober.

"Ouch. A life without alcohol? I hope I'm not a mage. Let me check..." Itxaro mimicked the full-body, flowing motions she'd seen Shirik display for them, sloshing her drink on the dirt, before directing her "flame" towards Nellara to no effect. She did slightly stumble in the process, though. "Hmm, nope. Guess I still get to drink!" Itxaro laughed. The engineer hadn't had a serious drinking session in many years, and was beginning to realize that her alcohol tolerance had dropped dramatically. She set her drink down on a nearby table, realizing perhaps she'd had enough, but no sooner had she abandoned her beer did a passing Glen press a new mug into her hand.

"Well, proud or not, I wanted Kerchek to help me look for some lost gear at some point, and I can't do that if he's turned himself into a pile of goo or something. I'm gonna go check up on him." Itxaro eyed the retinue that followed Kerchek's path into the grass and grew anxious. Four S'tor guards, another local, Zey, and even more worrying, Darnell and Ezra. The last two were likely to get someone killed, and Itxaro didn't want to see her newfound alien friends gunned down by a lowlife mercenary and a corporate stooge. Maybe we'll get really luck out and he'll turn them into a cockroach.

Itxaro set her second drink aside and turned to leave. She paused and studied the crash site, as if with new eyes. A colorless streak of wire and crepe, ash and cinders in an otherwise verdant and vibrant world. Freshly dug trenches and turned up earth cobwebbed the surrounding untouched countryside. Scorch marks from the fire reached out from the Jotunheim like the first stage of a malignant cancer extending creeping tendrils out to engulf the planet.

She turned back to Nellara and locked eyes with her, now in a hushed but deadly serious tone.

"One last piece of unsolicited advice. I normally wouldn't, but I think I'm a little drunk, so I will. Make peace with Mythadia. Or at least try. You have more in common than you think, and your world is big. Bigger than you can imagine. Someone could be sailing across the sea right now, some nation with better weapons, better soldiers, looking for a new home and willing to kill you all for it. They might arrive today, they might arrive 100 years from now, or hell, they might not ever, might not even exist. But you'll all be better off if you make peace. Don't make my ancestor's mistakes. Don't get caught up killing each other over border wars when there might be someone more dangerous out there."

Itxaro cleared her throat and returned to her earlier conviviality.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go look after a drunk wizard."

She turned and ran towards the brush.

@EliteCommander @Catharyn @Quest Abandoner

Kolvar Stilmyst

The life mage staggered behind some bushes. His body morphs between the different species of the land. Kolvar was trying to keep his disguise. But this was harder than he thought since his alcohol intake was immense. Cursing himself for drinking so much when he should have known better. But his reasoning was that he wanted to try to relax, but drinking alcohol only made the situation much worst. He could just apologize and say that his real form was taken from a lesser-known race.

But of course, they were smart and would know he was lying. He could just come clean and explain himself, but there was a high chance they would want his head on a platter. He was confused about what he should do to get out of this situation. He could hear movement coming towards him. He assumed had created a party to try and search for him. Starting to panic as he tried to get back into his Tekerian disguise. But he was having a lot of issues with maintaining that particular form.

Kolvar could feel beads of sweat running down his face. Feeling like he was not getting the proportions right. Judging from the sounds of footsteps, it sounded to him like there were a few people in this group. With some heavier footsteps indicating that the metal man named Ezra was with them. This was worrying to him since this man seemed keen to see any kind of combat.

Again cursing in his native language while his mind was racing on what he should do. Feeling tired of trying to use his life magic to try and disguise himself. Suddenly feeling something coming up his stomach and throat. Vomiting profusely into some bushes. In the back of his mind, he was going to be absent from drinking alcohol. When the group arrived they would see Kolvar still puking while in his original form. There was no way to escape especially not in his current condition. He would have to lie or do something to keep his cover and not break their trust.

---

Kvarr, on his part, did not see the need to send anyone further after the Life mage. An intoxicated party guest hardly seemed like a concern worthy of more than a few concerned companions. Of course, he understood quite well Esedel’s intentions, but his lively, friendly exterior remained unchanged. His only break from the conversation was to grab another beer.

After a moment, Kvarr leaned forward onto the improvised table and tilted his head towards the Warden. “It is always good to catch up with you, sister, though I imagine you won’t be able to stay away from your Kerak for too long. Our kin from the North are never so kind as to give us time for a break, are they?” Briefly, a more serious and concerned expression flashed across Kvarr’s face, though it was quick to return to normal. “I think it benefits us both to get this all situated sooner, rather than later.”

Kareet, meanwhile, ended up finding her thoughts quickly distracted, despite her best efforts. The peculiarities surrounding Kerchak were all just building on one another. The way he acted, it felt obvious that he was not originally a Tekeri. His accent coupled with his behavior made that much clear. Of course, neither she nor many others in the Ascendancy would particularly care about that. The law gave no special privileges to Tekeri visitors or citizens, so a Life mage who preferred their form would find no obstacles. Yet, the question of exactly what he was still nagging at the back of her mind. The god he had mentioned, Niftari, was not one she was familiar with, yet she was sure she had heard of it before. She just could not quite place where it was from, and she knew well that it was going to bother her to an unreasonable degree until she could remember. Without a word, aside from occasional muttering to herself, she got up from the table to go grab her bag and see if she could find some relevant reference material among her books.