Spoopy Scary

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

Also I just got around to looking at all the stuff about the ship on the header post and wookieepedia. Wow that is one shitty ship.

@Amaranth

Now why did you have to go and do that? Now I might have to make the ship spring a leak above your bunk. 😘

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

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<ALL OF YOU>

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"Are you all grown up yet, Zekha?" The captain chided. "Everyone can cook and clean up after themselves. If you can't cook, you can make an arrangement with another crew member who does or you can deal with nutripaste, which is in the ship's larders. There's enough of that garbage to last for months. Emergencies... just look at this way: the less you help, the more likely all of us are going to die in the middle of outer space."

The captain looked back and forth between the crew, his expression matter-of-factly, with his arms stretched out in a sort of fashion as if he were asking everyone, "well, what did you expect?" With the rest of the crew silent, and <ZEKHA's> questions answered, he turned back around and led everyone up the staircase to the upper level of the ship, where they finally set foot on the bridge. The bridge itself, like the rest of the ship, has probably seen better days but looked better maintained than the cargo hold was. It was almost as though this part of the ship was not apart of the original blueprints, if judging by appearance alone. The fore side of the bridge had two seats up front which were unmistakably the piloting controls. They two were identical, so it did not matter much where the pilot chose to sit unless one side happened to be locked out. There were two other seats on the bridge, one port and one starboard. The port side seemed to be a communications panel and galaxy map, and the starboard side was linked to the ship's weapons system. The latter was rather simplistic and unimpressive - after all, the ship only had one medium laser cannon.

<BAARSUTH>, The cockpit didn't seem like anything that was necessarily fancy, but the aesthetic wasn't the tell-tale sign of a good ship. Whatever you might think about the rest of the ship, you could tell at a glance that the controls were fine-tuned and optimized. Nothing was missing, no lights were flickering, bent or rusted levers, no weird sounds of humming - while somewhat worn, they were still polished and didn't look like they were falling apart.

<ZEKHA>, No need to fear. The windows were already replaced. No suffocating deep in the black for you, no sir. Not yet, anyway.

"Here is your bridge." Varen said. "These two seats up front are for the pilot and co-pilot - it doesn't matter which. Port side, you have your communications, galaxy map, life support controls - so on and so forth - for the ship. Starboard side, the controls and targeting system for the medium laser cannon. It sometimes works. Just hope we won't need it."

PARTY AWARENESS CHECK

<BAARSUTH>
Check: Awareness
Dice: 1d20
Roll: 15
Bonus: +5
Result: 20 (SUCCESS)

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<B-0>
Check: Awareness
Dice: 1d20
Roll: 8
Bonus: +3
Result: 11 (FAIL)

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<LIAK'YKAM>
Check: Awareness
Dice: 1d20
Roll: 1
Bonus: --
Result: (CRITICAL FAIL)
lol get fucked

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<SHAI RIVELLIA>
Check: Awareness
Dice: 1d20
Roll: 15
Bonus: 0
Result: 15 (SUCCESS)

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<ZEKHA>
Check: Awareness
Dice: 1d20
Roll: 2
Bonus: +2
Result: 4 (FAIL)

What the fuck, you guys?

<BAARSUTH> and <SHAI RIVELLIA>, you two managed to see through the captain's bluff. It was probably the first sign of a sense of humor anyone has seen since all of you boarded the ship. The rest of you however? Evidently not quite as quick to pick up on the joke, but who can blame you? The captain has been all business since you met him! Perhaps there was a sudden wave of dread washing over you or maybe you just weren't that impressed with the awful condition the ship was in and how your own means of defense was inoperable half the time. Even more troubling, the implication of the even requiring a cannon on this job was haunting in its own right. <LIAK'YKAM>, ordinarily, I might say the wookie is flipping out right about now, but you're also zen like all the freaking time. Then there's the catch where you're not even experienced with interstellar travel or ship cannons anyway. You're more likely to wonder why we even need a cannon. Regardless of what you think about ships and guns, you've taken Varen's word entirely to heart. He's been straightforward, serious, and honest so far, why has that got to change now?

The captain moved on from the bridge after giving the crew a moment to take in the information and look around the cockpits. There was another flight of stairs going up on the starboard side of the ship heading towards the aft end of the Phoenix. Climbing those, the crew then found themselves in the crew lounge. There wasn't much, and it was only just spacious enough to fit everybody. Still, most of the food supplies were here, there was a refresher, and a round table with a long booth circling around it pushed against the portside wall.

"If you're hungry, you get food here. The refresher works fine." Varen explained. He turned to face the aft side of the ship, where there were three entryways. "Left side is cabin one, there are two bunks. In the middle, here, is an air lock with a dorsal hatch that brings you outside to the top of the ship. Right side, cabin number two. Two bunks, and there's another door in that cabin that brings you to the engine room."

He pressed a button at the side of cabin two's door and it smoothly rolled open on generously oiled tracks, exposing the inside of the cabin. Two bunks, and indeed, a another door on the other side of the cabin by the foot of the bed. Varen marched through the cabin and opened the next door, inviting the hum of the engine and the hyperdrive. Naturally, this would be a lot louder once in flight and zipping through space. There was a panel with an array of control on the wall opposite of the engine. A slew of numbers, from the dew point to the kW to mW measurements, temperatures, fuel, revolutions per second, and so on.

"The engine is a little old, but she runs fine. The hyperdrive purrs like a kitten. Try to get your numbers on rounds every twelve hours or so, make three copies to give to the pilot and myself, and one to keep."

<ZEKHA>, purring like a kitten indeed. The hum of the hyperdrive had barely the faintest palpitations, with highs and lows in the tone like sounds of tenor followed by sounds of alto in a repeating pattern. There wasn't any real risk or danger to it, but it could affect fuel and energy efficiency - you just had to investigate what the problem was. It was faint, but as someone who worked on engines and drives for many years, you could pick it out pretty quickly. The engines themselves were an old model and outdated by even some of the cheaper parts on the market. The panel on the walls seemed straightforward enough, but some of the kWs had some outliers. Where most hovered just above the 500 mark while the ship was powered, but was just at rest, the kW reading for artificial gravity generator was as high as 800. That could mean that the corresponding part isn't getting enough power or that the reading was off and had to be calibrated or the part replaced. Granted, some outputs were probably different because different parts required different input. Still, it was reading the block cooling output for the generator and might be worth investigating. If the reading wasn't lying, that meant that generator was getting too hot and the cooling system was working extra hard to maintain its target temperature. It looks like you'll have just enough work to keep you busy.

"So that's the ship. If there are any questions, save them for later. Man your stations, everyone! I want this ship off the ground in ten minutes. Liak'ykam, Shai, help Zekha with whatever he needs until we break atmosphere. Wear ear plugs if you can. Baarsuth, Bo, I'll be on the bridge with you to make sure there aren't any problems."

With that, the party dispersed. <BAARSUTH> and <B-0> leave the engine room with Varen Kray and <SHAI RIVELLIA> and <LIAK'YKAM> stay with <ZEKHA>, who will be lending the engineer a helping hand with some of the take-off procedures that the pilots don't have much control over or if something goes wrong. Anyways, it's quite clear that Varen is on a schedule and was eager to get off of Alderaan. Perhaps that was something you could relate to, eh <B-0>? Speaking of whom, it was after a few minutes did the pilots get accustomed with the controls. <B-0> had taken to it almost intuitively, and it was thanks to some of your guidance that <BAARSUTH> got used to the cockpit as quickly as he did. Varen manned the control panel and monitored the ship's systems. The ship lifted into the air slowly, but before long, the Phoenix was soaring through the air and aimed towards the horizon. The engine room, though purring before, was now a loud and almost-deafening roar as the ship picked up more and more speed. The ship itself was holding together even through the turbulence of entering the atmosphere, and eventually, into space.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

Sorry everyone for the delay, I've been working. I'll see if I can't get a post in tonight or tomorrow!

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

So the purpose of private messaging your sheet to the GMs was to allow us to fully assess your character in a way that is constructive and thorough, and so the OOC doesn't become congested and so that the backstory of everyone's character remains a mystery to each other, allows us to talk about the problems in an applicant's sheet without embarrassment, and gives us a reason to actually explore and become invested in the characters as you guys learn more about them.

That being said, could you do us a favor and create a PM conversation for yourself, Walks, and I so we can go over your sheet? Hopefully not too many of the other players have already read the sheet and put you at a disadvantage.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

In Star Wars, they're just called music players. There's not much else on personal audio players in the lore as far as I can find. You can just make up brand names for all I care, lol.

Also, I added to the codex in the 0th post. You can find a section covering the ship there, including a map.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

Sorry for the late post, y'all. But we're back in the game now, so post at your leisure.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

This is my GM voice. If you see me writing with [code] tags, that means I am speaking to you - the player - as the GM. Like in many tabletops, the GM will describe your environment with a rich narrative voice, but when it comes time for the GM to talk to the players and answering their questions, the roleplaying is momentarily suspended so that the information can be concisely conveyed (such as whether you fail rolls or not, or what you can or cannot see).

When it's time for dice to be rolled, all of the numbers will be in a titled hider within the post. The outcome will be described in the post, so you have the option of skipping that entirely if the numbers do not interest you.

also, we totally change the numbers based on the RP'ers we like more.

God damn it, Walks.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

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<ALL OF YOU>

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<SHAI RIVELLIA>, <LIAK'YKAM's> meditation had something of a calming effect on you. You know from your Force training what this technique was, you've seen it done many times in the battlefield, where a powerful Force user could bolster the spirits of their allies or make their enemies tremble with fear. There was something about this power that caused your fear and insecurities to subside for the time being, allowing you to think with much greater clarity and act with more confidence. As a result, you receive a +2 bonus to attack and damage rolls for 1 hour. Continuing on, all of the different conversations happening right now, such as the one between Woo'rah and <ZEKHA>, and <BAARSUTH> and <B-0>, and with <LIAK'YKAM> meditating, no one was really left to notice you pull out the remains of your weapon... no one except the captain, that is. He didn't seem necessarily bothered by the presence of the broken device, but he looked at you with a stern gaze that suggested it might not be such a wise idea to so carelessly show it off in the open. He glanced between you and the pocket it came from and that was that, and he looked back at the rest of the crew.

<ZEKHA>, Your jabs at Woo'rah's height and originality didn't look as though they unsettled her very much. In fact she looked rather satisfied, as if she had somehow won in a battle of temperament of some kind, probably taking your comeback as a defensive reprisal to her teasing. Regardless, her smug attitude reverted back to the bored expression you first saw her with as you explained the risks of a bad seal in the combustion chamber, almost to the point where it's hard to tell if she's still paying attention.

Woo'rah idly chewed on the chewstim, leaning her back against the workbench as she sat on the flexiglass container as she "listened" to <ZEKHA's> lecture on engineering. Though she didn't look very impressed, she did at least give him a shrug, as if that was a sufficient enough gesture of acknowledgement. In a brief lapse in her chewing and blowing pink bubbles, she did say, "Well, you know what you're talking about. I'll give you that."

The twi'lek sat up in her seat and grabbed one of the empty mini-missile shells lying on the workbench, and held it in front of <ZEKHA's> face. She continued, "These babies don't work if I don't have the proper seal on them. Jump packs are basically two missiles strapped to somebody crazy enough to try it. Grenades and mines, they work the same way - sort of. You can't just half-ass the seal if you want a good pop! If I couldn't fix the damn thing myself, I'd already be dead."

She leaned back again and returned the shell to its spot on the bench. "I appreciate the concern sweetie, but stay in your lane."

<ZEKHA>, There was a moment of realness there that one might not have expected to see in her when you first met a couple minutes ago. No snappy comebacks, smart-ass remarks, or dismissive comments - she talked to you on an equal level of sorts, likely out of respect for your profession. Still, there was a sense of pique that betrayed her otherwise polite answer. She certainly comes across as a woman who is prideful in what she's good at, and considering how many twi'lek girls were sold into slavery or became indentured, it takes a little imagination to figure how she got to this point.

"Alright, I think we've been gabbing long enough. Let's get to showing you lot the ship." Varen declared, gathering all of the crew's attention. He was quick and snappy with his address, and while he didn't appear particularly impatient, he was at least eager to get orientation over and done with for everyone's sake if not his own. He stretched his arms out, gesturing to the cargo hold everyone was in.

"Right now we're in the cargo hold. This hold can carry up to forty tons of cargo, is approximately twelve by ten meters, and comes equipped with a junk receptacle and a workshop." The captain pointed at <ZEKHA> and explained, "If something that's not the ship needs to be worked on, you come here. You will have to share with Woo'rah, however. Learn how to coordinate and prioritize your time management."

The twi'lek woman casually strolled from one side of the party to the other, making a bee-line towards a hammock that was stretched between two large cargo crates which were secured and tightly fastened to the starboard wall of the hull. It was high up enough that Woo'rah had to pull herself up before she could let her back fall into the hammock, but when she did, she cradled her head with her arms as she rocked side to side with it with one of her legs carelessly hanging down from the side of the hammock.

Varen continued, "You already know where the two boarding ramps are at the aft of the Phoenix - one on the port side and one on the starboard side. Facing the fore, these 578-R models come with two forward crawl spaces on the port and starboard sides with the stairwell to the upper deck in-between. It leads directly to the bridge. This ship has been refurbished to that both of these crawlspaces serve as crew cabins. The starboard side is the captain's cabin - my cabin. You can find me there or on the bridge most of the time if I'm not making my rounds. The port side..."

The captain pointed at <BAARSUTH>.

"That cabin goes to the ship's pilot. I'm warning you lot right now that the cabins upstairs will not be as comfortable. They are right next door to the engine room and the walls are not soundproof, but I must have my pilot be well-rested and as close as possible to the bridge so that he can respond in a moment's notice."

"I'm a special case." Woo'rah sarcastically inserted, staring at the ceiling from her place in the hammock. Varen ignored her and looked at the rest of the crew.

"Bo is a droid, and they don't have much use for bunks. So Bo, when Baarsuth turns in, you stay on the bridge. I don't want the cockpits unmanned for any reason. The rest of you can sort out your cabins upstairs however you like. They fit two people each," he said looking at <ZEKHA>, <LIAK’YKAM>, and <SHAI RIVELLIA>, “but I would prefer if Zekha stayed in the port side cabin, since the the blast door to the engine room is through there. Are there any questions before we head upstairs?”

Baybridge: Halcyon Days [Superpowers/Semi-Sandbox]

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_{@FernStone by @Surtr}

Courtbridge, Prince Edfield_

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---

Before the mutant that was charging at Kei could continue, it was suddenly frozen in place. It loudly groaned as it twitched, and attempted to resist, but an irresistible force was cast upon it.

A red aura surrounded the monster as Ada walked up to it's side, with Megan carefully peeking through. Ada pointed towards the nearest exit, before she said, "Go. Take the little one, and leave." Kei left, and Ada pointed a finger at the creature's skull. It extended with a blade at the very end of the tip, before it pierced it's skull. Dropping harmlessly to the ground with a thud.

The little one didn't need to see that, her psyche was probably already damaged by this event. When they left, Ada continued.

With every step the woman took, she traced the former humans back down to their source: An abandoned store deep within the mall. The shutters were destroyed, but Ada merely willed them away with telekinesis. It was a disgusting mess of gore from the transformations, and the untimely massacre of the drug dealer. Ada slightly winced at the sight, but marched on as her shoes were stained with blood.

Ada shook her head slightly as she continued to march forward, but she suddenly stopped, and knelt down. Putting a finger on the floor, seemingly touching the blood. Instead, she was merely sensing another not-so-distant memory. The memory of the man who started this with a canister... so it was a gas that did this? Was it terrorism, or...?

Then Ada saw a detail that wasn't apparent to the naked eye.

"Oh... she's behind this?" Ada stood straight up, and looked at Megan. "We need to find Adora, we have to leave soon as possible."

Megan raised an eyebrow, as Ada grabbed onto her shoulder.

"There's other things we have to attend to."

The two sunk into the ground, disappearing into nothingness.

---

_{by @Spoopy Scary & @Surtr}

Believer - Silent Partner

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Courtbridge, Prince Edfield_

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While the situation at the mall was getting far more out of hand than it needed to be, RAVEN had no real efficient means of cleaning up the mall.

A black sedan with the RAVEN symbol on the hood rolled up to the scene, and Maximilian Cornell got out of the back seat of the vehicle. Wearing a black suit, and a long coat that matched. He walked up to the other RAVENS. They quickly gave him a "Sir!" before he marched on past.

"How is the situation in there looking?" Maximilian asked one of the RAVENS... before he turned his head as a blood red tear in the middle of the air appeared. A golden light surrounded him as he briefly considered summoning Echo, but a group of terrified civilians came running out before the portal closed. "... And what's that?"

"We are unaware, sir!" One of the RAVENS said. "It just keeps popping up!"

Another RAVEN spoke up. "We have teams in the mall handling the mutants, sir! But, there are too many of them, and too many civilians in the way."

Maximilian Cornell shook his head, as he realized with every second that passes, the situation got worse and worse. He put a hand on his chin, and thought about it for a moment.

"... Could we be of assistance, Chairman?" The voice of Graham Morris surprised Maximilian as he turned around. He saw Michelle, and a new lady... of short, well-built, stature, and Hispanic descent.

"Mr. Morris, what are you doing here?" Maximilian asked. "This isn't an official operation against ZODIAC."

"We know... but MAVERICK is all about protecting the people from what they cannot hope to fight," Graham started off, his invisible hands behind his back. "We will lend you our services."

The hispanic woman stepped up, and said, "I can enhance the powers of someone for a short amount of time." She said. "Maybe that can help?"

"Even if enhanced... my Echo can't handle all of them."

"What about her?" The RAVEN that Maximilian was talking to threw a thumb at Andrea. "She took down one by herself."

"But..." Maximilian realized that she was a DOVE, before he merely shook his head, and walked over towards her. He was unsure of how he should approach her, and ask. But, he was going to do his best. He cleared his throat as he asked. "... Hello, excuse me?"

The blonde girl and one of the DOVE medics looked up to see the seasoned RAVEN agent. They shared a glance to one another and Andrea nodded. Her caretaker left her alone with Maximilian and Andrea turned in her seat to face him, apparently winding down from whatever headache was wracking her skull just some few minutes ago. She remembered seeing him in that briefing room just over a week ago before the DOVE rally, when she was delivering the papers he was supposed to be using for the speech (likely one of many candidates). So much has happened since then that quivering and getting nervous in front of the man just seemed so silly. Especially in the face of what they were dealing with right now. She stood up and faced the man. She would've tried a smile to greet him, but right now, she couldn't bring herself to force one. There was nothing to smile about. She said, "How can I help you, sir?"

"We have an agent of MAVERICK here who can put an end to this," Maximilian started off, he crossed his arms. "But, we need someone else for her to put her talents to good use."

He looked over his shoulder at the MAVERICKS... it was stupid of them to be here, but whatever it took. "Let me just cut to the chase; she's a power booster, and some of the RAVENS recommended you to have your power enhanced. Would you be up to the task?"

Andrea blinked a couple times and refocused on Maximilian, looking at him in disbelief. She asked incredulously, "Me?"

"I know you probably weren't expecting this," Maximilian said as he crossed his arms. "But, I'm willing to do whatever I can to bring this bloodshed to an end." He landed a fist into an open palm, before he focused on Andrea.

"So, I repeat," Max started off. "Are you up to the task?"

Andrea thought carefully about the man's offer. She wasn't exactly sure of what it entailed. What would amplifying her power even do? What were the repercussions? Did she have any powers beyond her eyes and the connection to her... what, spirits? Apparitions? Would she be too sensitive to function? But on the other hand, the sort of potential available to her was... if she could just find every mutant in the mall...

"I'll do it." She answered. "There are dozens of mutants still inside and about as many civilians..."

"Come with me then," Maximilian said as he gestured for the Intern to come along with him. He walked valiantly towards the three MAVERICKs that gladly lend their help to RAVEN to bring this situation to an end. "I'd like to introduce you to the agents of MAVERICK."

Michelle merely waved and said, "Hey." She started off. "Agent Gallus, here."

"So, uh, you're just a DOVE?" The hispanic woman started off.

"Just barely." Andrea answered.

"What's your power? Just so I'm sure to boost you enough, because...."

"Don't be so shy, Carmen!" Michelle said, elbowing Carmen in the side. "If Maximilian trusts her, then so do we. We don't have a whole lot of time either."

Carmen nodded her head, as she looked at Andrea. "Stick your hand out when you are ready."

"Alright." Andrea muttered. She took a deep breath, and after a few seconds of working up the nerve, offered her hand to Carmen.

Carmen sighed as she grabbed onto her hand, and suddenly a green light sparked inside of Carmen. Glowing brightly through her skin, and illuminating her nervous system, until it was transferred into Andrea's body. Starting with her hand, her nervous system slowly lit up all the way to her feet. Before it faded when Carmen broke contact. Andrea would feel strong, but the feeling of strength faded as the enhancements did.

"... Make sure to tell her that you just shaved ten years off." Michelle teasingly "whispered" loudly enough for Andrea to hear it. Andrea would've smiled knowingly at her, aware of her teasing, but she was far too preoccupied with something else. As Carmen's power surged through Andrea, the next thing she knew was that the number of apparitions she saw in the next moment looked to have tripled. They were everywhere, floating every which way, and her connection to each and every one of them almost felt tangible.

Carmen ignored Michelle, but she still had a warning for Andrea, "Alright, make sure to be careful, you'll ash if you go at it too hard."

"Then it's a good thing I have all of you nearby... isn't it?" Andrea said quietly. She had no intention of killing herself today, but how would she know how much is too much? She sighed and closed her eyes, and at the faintest notion of her will, her mind's eye darted from link to link, seeing from the perspectives of each of the hundreds of apparitions at once. Through the surrounding parking lot, to inside the mall - she saw Francis fighting his way through the mutant legion, he saw agent Meifeng protecting a little girl, the pimp and some of his friends, a cluster of children, a mysterious old lady and a young woman by her side. Their thoughts seemingly radiating off of them in a way she hasn't heard before, and not just because her senses were amplified. No, when she focused on the old woman, it was like there were hundreds of voices echoing from her. Not overwhelming or loud, but her mind was crowded and chaotic. And it wasn't speed, it was like there were a hundred individual people in one person... how could that woman sort out such madness? Even Andrea had trouble finding her way through the disorganized, tangled web of thoughts - but it was like moving through a crowd in a way, so with the help of multiple apparitions reading the surface thoughts of this woman, she could filter the irrelevant information.

It was when the woman touched the blood that Andrea heard her thoughts as loudly as one might hear a megaphone - '...so it was a gas that did this?' Andrea heard. She hesitated to do anything, just taking a moment to process all of the information coming her way. Then a name came, 'Britney,' which had belonged to the face of an African-American girl. An old friend. In the moments that followed, the two women were gone. She had no idea who that old woman was, but she was onto something. Still... her focus shifted to the mutants within the mall - there was something else she had to focus on right now. She tracked down the remaining mutants in the mall. All thirty-two of the lumbering monsters. A single breath taken in, a single word breathed out: "Scream."

Each and every single one of them fell to their knees, and even outside of the mall, the RAVENs manning the barricades could hear a cacophony of pained roaring echoing through the halls. The sounds of their agony ripping through the air. The agents both outside and inside the mall heard her voice in their minds, 'All of the mutants are held down. Now's your chance.'

The tide of the fight was turned in favor of RAVEN in an instant. They were quick to capitalize on this, by whipping out their containment foam sprayers and hosing down as many of them as they could in the time-frame allowed. A majority of them were captured, as the remaining civilians took the opportunity to escape.

Francis was still running around, frantically trying to lead the monsters away. Okay, he knew that the kids got away, but he also knew that losing them wasn't as easy as one-two-three... especially when he used his sole flashbang as a distraction. He shook his head as he kept running. His throat was burning, but adrenaline was keeping him going until his heart explodes or something. He was trying to stay positive in this dark, dark, day. He heard the collective roars of the monsters behind him... and the sound of their stomping... stopping. He looked over his shoulder to see the horde of monsters clenching their heads, and falling to their knees. Before Francis came to a stop. He heard the voice of Andrea - he didn't know how she did it, but she did! Francis didn't waste a second of time as he rolled a containment foam grenade at the monster's feet. It exploded in a triumphant display, and bound most of the monsters to the ground. He stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, kept his shotgun held tightly in his hands in case something went wrong.

He quickly moved his way towards the exit - he needed to regroup - but as he went along, he saw that the situation was being cleaned up nicely. He couldn't believe it, a damn miracle fell from the sky and saved them. Francis managed to run out the door, and made it to the RAVEN garrison. In one piece, too! He felt like he lost what little body fat he had left running, but, hell, he's alive. He ran up to his fellow RAVENS, and was greeted by the shining golden copy of Maximilian standing at around twelve feet. Francis smiled, and Echo did the same as a silent nod to keep going. He kept going until he encountered Maximilian Cornell.

"Agent Jean-Pierre, are you alright?" Maximilian asked, worried about his team mate.

Francis smiled as he got up on a barrier and sat down. "I'm perfectly fine sir... just a lil' tired." He said. "The situation?"

"The situation is looking brighter by the minute," Maximilian said. "All thanks to her, and MAVERICK."

"MAVERICK is here?" Francis asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes... We couldn't have done this without them," Maximilian said with crossed arms. "... But, I feel as if we're revealing a hand too early to the enemy."

"Doesn't matter, anymore, Max," Francis said with a raised eyebrow. "We gotta work with the cards we've been dealt."

He looked at Andrea for a moment, but said nothing, deciding to let her concentrate. Sweat was beading on her forehead, her face and eyes wrenched, but her expression softened for a moment. He saw the corner of her mouth curl up into smile for a second before returning to her concentration.

---

It really was hard dragging a limp, fully grown, woman... especially one like Meifeng who was fit as they come.

Jennifer was struggling to carry Meifeng, and it made her wonder if she should start hitting the gym. Could she even get muscle mass? Ugh, didn't matter. Jennifer's head was darting in the direction of ever cry, or even any odd sound. Because with Meifeng in such a shitty state, it was up to Jen and... this mystery boy, to keep her and Lijuan safe. But, the pained roars were not ignorable - Jennifer's head darted down a hall to see the hulking monster pinned down by... something? She raised an eyebrow at the sight, but kept moving. This seemed to be the work of another Metahuman. Ugh, this was making Jen's head hurt, and she was close to the exit.

She could see the doors now! Exit! Freedom!

Hope made Jennifer burst with energy as she pulled Meifeng with all the strength that she was saving up throughout the whole trip. What was actually a minute felt like a second as she finally pushed through the doors, and didn't waste a second in saying, "Hey!" She loudly shouted, "They need help! I think she's having a heat stroke!" She added on, but as she looked over her shoulder, all she saw as Lijuan on the shutters - the boy was gone. They didn't even know his name, but yet he helped them.

RAVENS were quickly swarming the trio, but there was not a single mark on Jen. All because she regenerated before they got a chance to see anything. Except for maybe some blood.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Six of One Thousand Steps: The Hunt Begins

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26th of Sun's Height, Late Afternoon

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The news of Ashlander magic did not take long to spread. From those surrounding the mouth of the mine, the mutterings spread like wildfire. Through the town, through the docks, the taverns and shoppes, amongst the guard, and when the mutterings spreads amongst the guards, they’re inevitably carried to the Saxhleel camps just outside the gates by the patrols. While the tensions weren’t easy, that information was not shared with the lizard men of Black Marsh through love. No, the nords seemed to revel in taunting the refugees - perhaps if they are lucky, the argonians were next - perhaps their dunmeri masters would finally take them off their hands - perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. ‘Perhaps if everyone were lucky, the Ashlanders would kill every racist in Dawnstar,’ Wylendriel thought, but then she closed shut her eyes in shame. When will these intrusive thoughts finally end?

She sat alone with a few of the refugees in a tent, among whom was the Saxhleel warrior she had saved just the day prior, Vija-Nim. A raj-deelith, an elder or teacher, who was introduced as Wuska and was particularly grieving for Pakseech Tzinasha. She was with a third; a mother, named Inan. All four surrounded Tzinasha’s lifeless body, who lay on hay and soft mud. Like, the others, Wylendriel had the feather Tzinasha had given him laid out in front of her as she sat on her knees. Before, she was ignorant of the feather’s true meaning, but now she could see how significant to the Saxhleel it was.

Everyone who was present had one. Vija-Nim, a great warrior who had apparently saved his life on many occasions. Wuska, his best friend and closest confidant for many years. Inan, his daughter and mother to his granddaughter. Then herself… the savior. She had inspected the cuts on his body and hadn’t found any traces of residue. It had to have been done by a thin metal blade. The murderer aimed for vital spots that had soft scales, so they knew where in an argonian to stick the blade. They had to be well acquainted with their physiology, especially to assassinate one adorned with robes. The rest seemed convinced it had to have been a dark elf slaver, or at least they were a slaver at one time. It was only more damning when one of the lowliest of the Saxhleel claimed to have seen the glint of red eyes escaping the scene, but there was no proof otherwise.

For a while now, the four had sat in silence in honor of the saxhleel who had so much love and wisdom to give, but soon that silence would have to be broken if they were to ever find out who was responsible for Tzinasha’s murder.

“Wuska, my sweet Wuska, there is no need to cry,” said Inan, “Tzinasha was my father, and your egg-brother, xhu? He had the marsh in his veins, surely he has rejoined the one.”

“That is not the problem we face.” Vija-Nim said, looking to Wuska knowingly. “We all rejoin the one in the end, that is a clear river. But Tzinasha was swept away by dark currents run with poison - murdered, and more will follow if we let the murderer go unpunished.”

“It is not the death he deserved.” Wuska sobbed.

“We will bring the wrongdoer to justice, this I promise.” Vija-Nim assured solemnly. “Our sun-blessed friend is here to help us. She has once before, she promised she will again.”

Wylendriel bowed her head before the others once more like she had when she first saw them upon entering the tent earlier ago. She raised her head and gave Tzinasha’s cold body an endearing look with reddened eyes that were long dried of tears before even today. She hid the burning seething she felt inside her chest well, but those well familiar with it could find it leaking out through the piercing gaze. Her lips moved, with at first nothing coming out, but managed to contribute to the conversation after some hesitation.

“He was a soft old leaf, to be sure.” The priestess agreed, facing Wuska. Then she looked to Vija-Nim and nodded to him brusquely, saying, “Let us get to the matter at hand. The ash shells the guards were speaking of, do they mean anything to you?”

Vija-Nim shook his head. “Perhaps not to me, but to Wuska…”

Wuska followed up on the warrior’s cue, “Ashlander magic. I have seen it many a time in Morrowind.”

Then Inan spoke, “My father was not found with any ash shells. What does that mean?”

“It could mean two things.” Vija-Nim suggested. “One, there is more than one of them, which would mean the dark elves have followed us here. Or two, the enemy didn’t use magic for your father, they stabbed him in his softest scales. Many dunmer know where to kill us.”

Wuska hissed, “They killed him from behind, xuth, like a reeking thin-scale.”

“There’s a third possibility.” Wylendriel added, prompting looks from the other three. “There could be a murderer among us and a dunmer taking advantage of it.”

Vija-Nim held his chin for a moment, absorbed in thought. He looked back and nodded, “That too is possible. The deaths began with an elf girl, then Tzinasha. The nords make no effort to hide their hatred for us. No reason for an Armiger to target them, but the iron mine? That’s where weapons and armor are made. Indiscriminate slaughter by a trained warrior. A Thane was also killed, part of Dawnstar's leadership.”

“But the girl and my father… if an Armiger is here, couldn’t they have also taken them, spin the locale into chaos? Jazechniim saw red eyes.” Inan asked.

“Whatever the case, we know that there is a dark elf in the Pale.” Wuska said. “If we find them and deliver them to Seth, we will know for sure after a time.”

“You would wait for more to die?” Vija-Nim questioned.

“That is all we can do.” Wyledriel answered. “If there’s a second murderer, then we’re looking for a nord who hates non-nords in a nord town that hates non-nords. We know there’s a dunmer. We ought to start there.”

“Forgive me sun-blessed,” replied the warrior, “but when we met - when you pulled me back into the river - you swam in pure streams. If the passing of our egg-brother has poisoned that river, then I would not see you swim in these rapids for your own good.”

“You misunderstand me.” Wylendriel rebuked. “My devotion to Kynareth is as much as it is to Y’ffre. Murderers take more than they need, they harm the natural order. If wolves kill without eating, we cull the wolves. Us bosmer believe life is a cycle, not a river from here to there.”

“That is quite a bloody religion.” Wuska commented. “You believe what you will. The Hist watches us all.”

“Ah-- anyways,” Inan began, attempting to change the topic to something far less offensive and back to what actually mattered. “There was evidence from the high elf girl’s murder. A bone dagger.”

“Bonemold.” Wuska immediately answered. “A traditional dark elf weapon.”

“That depends on what kind of bone it is. Some nords like to use bone for their hilts and handles sometimes.” Vija-Nim proposed, but Wuska remained unconvinced.

“Nords also like their weapons, especially when they have bone in them. Give them names like Mead-Licker or things stupid like that. Wouldn’t leave them inside the girl like that.”

Vija-Nim nodded and looked to Wylendriel with confidence. He said to her, “It’s looking more and more like these deaths were by the hands of an Armiger. It would moisten my scales to know there is no second killer.”

“We still cannot let our guard down.” Wy insisted. “You cannot be too eager to believe it is a dunmer alone behind it.”

“Why can’t I?” Wuska hissed, standing to her feet. “Because of some preening mammal licker sings a song of justifying hate or racism? Because I’ll be the first to admit it, I hate the dark elves! I’d see them battered against jagged rocks before I believe they aren’t evil!”

Vija-Nim and Inan both stood to their feet along with Wuska, raising their hands gently and bringing Wuska back down to relax. Vija-Nim gave Wy an apologetic look while Inan shot an irritated glance her way, likely for getting the elder woman so worked up in the first place. The priestess sighed. Tzinasha’s death was taking its toll on everyone, even her. Normally, she wouldn’t be so…

“Inan,” said Vija-Nim, interrupting Wy’s thoughts, “who was outside when Tzinasha fell?”

Fortunately, Vija-Nim’s words gave inspiration for new thoughts. If Tzinasha was outside, then...

“Just a few.” Inan answered. “I will see if our egg-brothers saw anything else last night. I will let you know if I find anything.”

“Vija…” Wy started, “have you checked for prints?”

The warrior paused for a moment, then the spines on his head wilted as he hung his neck low. “...No, I did not. I stayed to protect the camp.”

“Coastal village, summer night - there’s bound to be mud.” Wy said. “I’ll look for prints and track them if I can find them, see where they--”

“Vija-Nim!” Blurted out a voice of a Saxhleel that came from outside the tent. The warrior inside rolled his eyes and stood up.

“What?” He answered, annoyed.

“There is a khajiit outside asking to see Tzinasha’s body. Says she’s part of the investigation for the mercenaries.”

“And?” Vija-Nim pried further, looking at Wylendriel with a questioning look. The priestess shrugged. She had no idea there were any khajiit in Ashav’s service.

“I don’t trust cats.” Replied the argonian. Vija-Nim sighed and placed a hand on Wylendriel’s, standing up with her. He nodded with respect to the elder and the matron and looked back to the priestess.

“You too work with the mercenary now, xhu?” He asked. “My egg-brothers and egg-sisters have been hurt enough as it is, I do not wish to risk their safety any further. See if this khajiit is who they claim to be. Work with them if so, find justice for Tzinasha. My place is here, protecting my people.”

“I understand.”

“Our nest is yours. Rains at your back.”

She had bid her farewells to three argonians and carried Tzinasha’s feather with her, sticking the plume back into her braid and left the tent to face the ebbing daylight - had she truly be gone for so long? Ah, still, she saw an armored khajiit out in the road waiting expectantly. If she were not the only khajiit nearby, she would’ve been given away by the nervous darting of the eyes of the refugees between herself and the cat-woman. She did not know her temperament and warrior-woman did not likely care for hers, as small as the priestess was, but even so, she’d only approach with so much caution. If she was lying about who she was, then she’d find that she had very little patience left.

She stepped forward, her robes brushing against the tall grass, and looked up at the much taller khajiit.

“Good afternoon! I hear you’re working for… who?” Wy asked. There was a bit of a challenge in the tone of her voice, like she was expecting to hear the right answer instead of asking a real question. Her face was still, but her fingers were twitching in anticipation, though not nervously.