[Interim Three] Adjoin

Pancakei

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Trayll II - Surface
Immediately following their crushhiing d-

Daring escape from the collapsing Kerolyne Defile.

The intense white light of the sky began to fade as the sun slowly descended below the horizon of Trayll II. The ground beneath the cooling desert rumbled lightly, shaking the dangling remains of the turret outside the entrance to the Kerolyne Defile. The entrance itself had been sealed by heavy blast doors, no doubt due to the incident the Downriders had been involved with down below. From behind the door a muffled cacophony of bangs and words seeped, before quieting at a shout. A small object bounced against the backside of the door, leading to complete and total silence.

Seven seconds later, a violent blast erupted from behind the door, throwing it completely off it's hinges and taking the turret mount with it. The rock face around the door crumpled as smoke and ash billowed out in a long cloud, through which a massive creature emerged. Glasawyr was the first to leave, knocking the rest of the debris out of the way using his bulk so the rest could follow. Grasping the hot remains of the door frame, Dahlia Morgan screamed to her crew. "OUT! OUT RIGHT NOW!"

In chaotic pairings, the crew of the ISS Downrider were flung from the collapsing tunnel, bouncing and rolling out into the cliff face ahead. The last of them was Dahlia herself, taking a leap of faith away from the cascading sheets of rock and metal. The crew and their saved findings lay sprawled out along the still-warm desert sand, catching their breath as the last throes of the rockslide fell behind them. Hopefully, their pursuer had been caught in the rockfall. Dahlia slowly rose to her feet, every bone creaking along the way. The captain brushed the dusk off her navy longcoat, though the oil would not come out so easily. She looked around, immediately counting heads. It was an easy task, as nearly everyone had opted for one of the white company hardhats. "Is... eveyrone alright?" the captain coughed. They were still missing someone-

From behind them, the pile of rubble shifted. Dahlia spun around, drawing a heavy revolver to aim down at the movement. The rocks lurched again, and out form under them emerged a white metal hand. OSC-01 released a garbled grunt, pushing up against the ground as heavy debris bounced and rolled off them. Dahlia hesitated a moment more, and then holstered the revolver to aid them. "Come on, you." she said, tugging on the Overseer's arm. She was eventually aided by another crew member, helping OSC-01 to her feet. "I could have gotten myself" the robot remarked.

The captain huffed with a chuckle, still completely tense from shock. "Glad to see you're back in the land of the living, your prissyness. You had me worried there for a minute." Dahlia continued to breathe unsteadily, trying to work off the shock as she assessed the situation. The rumbling had ceased, there seemed to be no one coming after them. The Captain grimaced as she gripped the wound on her hip, patched on the fly thanks to the crew's biotechnician, Friday. It was not a comfortable experience, but it beats bleeding out any day. "Let's get our things and get the hell out of here." she ordered. She herself checked to see that the cranium of the rogue overseer and the black box from earlier were still affixed to her bag before slowly trudging onward.
 
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Trayll II - Surface

Glasawyr was, if anything, a bit miffed about this whole affair. Those harpies had been annoying, but thankfully it appeared that his wounds were already healing. To be certain, he ducked his head like a dog and began licking over the ones on his arms. Proper first aid and hygiene were a must. In the end, what annoyed him the most wasn't his near brush with death, nor the harrowing escape that involved far too much running as opposed to flying. It was the fact that for all of that effort, they hadn't found a single thing to eat!

There was that suitcase from the control tower, but he'd been unable to open that. Plus, his Alpha was wounded, and would probably require any nourishment it contained.

But, not all was bad. The dragon let out a low noise of pleasure as the sun above washed over him. The hot desert winds blowing in from the open air off the edge of the cliffside made his wings instinctively flair open slightly. He reveled in the feeling of being able to stretch out after spending so long cooped up inside that damnable cavern. Oh, and he had new friends! Ones who didn't treat him like an idiot, like the crystal-studded abomination! New friends with a space ship and food (though so far they hadn't been very forthcoming with the latter).

He took note of the cubs. They were alive. Mostly unharmed. Small wounds would build character and a tolerance for discomfort, which were good qualities all children should possess. He looked to his newest charge. She was small, and fluffy. Like a sheep. But not a sheep. Even if she were a sheep, he wouldn't eat her. It was strange- within the darkness of the cavern he could have sworn her hair had had a slight red tinge to it. In the bright sunlight, he realized that was not the case. Odd.

I must taste the sky before I am once more imprisoned.

And with that, Glasawyr casually stepped off the edge of the cliff and dropped out of sight like a stone. For several, long moments, there was no sound. Then, a low roaring. Wind racing through bat-like wings. It grew to a crescendo and vibrated the sand beneath their feet. A large, black shape rocketed past, heading skyward. Once high above, Glas began lazily circling the group. It was probably best to just leave him to it, since he'd probably be able to see any new threats long before the crew did, and then immolate them with his fire breath before they could say "Holy shit, a dragon!".
 

Trayll II - Surface


Sprawled out on the sand, a groove carved out in the grains behind her, was Friday. With a few jerky twists, she turned over onto her back, a smile plastered across her face. As her artificial eyes adjusted to the light, Friday let out a sudden gasp as she immediately sat up.

"C-C-Captain!" An electronic voice rang out, the doctor's head twisting side to side frantically before Dahlia caught her gaze. With an increasingly widening grin, she rose from the ground with a mechanical grace. "Captain, oh Captain, oh Captain, oh Captain..." Friday repeated on loop as she skipped over, each step spreading warmed sand in large puffs. "Don't throw yourself around too much, girl, we wouldn't want th-" But before she could continue, her head jerked to the side with a metallic scrape. "You'll burst that wound like a juice packet." She said with a deadpan voice, before her head jumped back forward. "-at hole to split open again!" Her frantic eyes widened, before tapping herself on the head with a clunk.

As Friday reached down with a mechanical arm, she opened one of the many pockets on her pants. After digging around for a little (completely unnecessarily due to the pocket's size), her hand came out gripping a roll of bandages. "After all, the worms are a quick fix-me-up." Giving a wink, and then a turn of her head, Friday noticed the rest of the crew. "Oi! Do any of you rascals need a touch of healing? There better be at least one broken bone!" Letting out a giggle, probably at the thought of broken bones, she pulled out a length of bandage with a snap.

After all, she might have a lot of patients soon.
 
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Trayll II - Surface

Rhea panted for breath a bit as she left the facility down below with a few of the others. She may be fast, but endurance was one of those things she'd have to work on... Before she could even pretend to catch her breath however, she gave everything around her a hard look, alternating between the entrance, to the crew, and what could be described as a jagged tablet of crystal floating beside her.

Eventually, she sat up, not particularly keen on being baked into the surface of the planet, and hesitantly went to help the captain out. Mostly using a slowly moving pillar of echyllis as a crutch for the robot, and to move debris more than anything else, as she certainly wasn't going to haul her up physically, help from the captain or no. As she was resolving herself to never be injured enough to warrant Friday's... or any of their help, she bit her lip and spoke up.

"Something... strange happened down there, captain, osco..." She muttered as she eyed her floating tablet searchingly again, having adjusted it so that the overseer and the captain were in the reflection behind her. She looked away quickly, however, either not finding what she wanted, or having seen something she didn't like.

She seemed to debate for several moments before spitting it out, blunt, and to the point. "I saw the future. We died like chumps. Alot." She gestured back towards the now collapsed entrence to the underground prison/work camp. "... I'm hungy and thirsty now. And my body hurts. Let's just... forget that happened." She muttered as she collected what litle she had and moved towards the ship. keeping her hard hat firmly on her head.
 
Trayll II - Surface
A bit too close of a call


Artemis coughed, still dazed from the sudden onslaught of robots and rocks. She took off her hard hat, and took a look at the large crack which had split it nearly open - thanks to Glas and Friday's help, the abnormal pilot was, in fact, not left behind when the rock hit her head on and nearly knocked her unconscious. Even then - without the PPE, Artemis would have been killed on impact, certainly. She pulled up an arm to shield her pale face from the sunlight. "I've... Certainly had worse, Friday. Ya got anything to check for, uh, a concussion though?" the sheep queried, knocking her fist against the damaged hard hat a few times.

Luckily, Artemis wasn't useless in the escape despite her overwhelming fragility. An ace in the hole of sorts, she managed to essentially supercharge everyone's adrenaline levels, except for the robots' of course. This had an advantageous impact on most of the crew in the moment, but... Well, once that wears off everyone is gonna be sore. Except maybe Glas, because dragons are kinda funky like that.

"Let's get outta this sun as soon as we can, though... I hate it."
 
Surface

Dahlia looked down to Rhea with concern as she checked herself over from Friday's work. The Captain raised an eyebrow, not fully believing the child- though she wsa one full of surprises. The captain briefly took another head count. "That was a call closer than any of us would have liked, but we all made it out." The captain sighed, finally calming down as she peered into the setting sun for a moment. Even this far into the horizon, the blue beast threw light like nothing else. "Come on everyone, lets get cleaned up and get out of here before we have to start using floodlights."

The Overseer obliged, picking up what little they had gathered on their way off the cliff face. OSC-01 briefly grabbed at the loose seams of their skirt, which was now burned, dirty, and lightly tattered. What a waste of fine fabric this was.


Landing Site

Dahlia huffed as she took the last few steps up the mountainside, taking the moment to stretch when she reached the plateau. Thankfully, both the Downrider and the Wayfarer that had brought the crew here were still present, though they'd have no time to take apart the ancient machine. The scrap and loot would have to suffice for now. The captain resumed her stride, beginning to list off jobs. "Reman, Romulus. Juryrig, you're on scrap duty. Whatever we tagged, we bag. Friday, critical medical examinations. Anyone still walking straight, get the ship ready for takeoff as fast as possible."

Though most everything had remained in it's place, the eagle-eyed of the group could notice additions of new footprints around the site, including those of the pin-footed Bouncers accompanying the crew. In fact, they had not made it down to the Defile at all as far as anyone knew- despite what the Overseer had reassured. Where could they have gone?

OSC-01 caught up with the Captain, matching her speed perfectly. "I believe we need to discuss the prospect of what just happened." the Overseer commented. "That we do." the captain retorted a her brow furrowed. Dahlia took a moment to check the blinking light on her communicator once more as the crew began to spread about. She raised the radio to her ear, once again hearing the same transmission. "That is correct, this is the ISS Downrider. We've suffered a setback but should be ready to mobilize within the hour. Understood. Dahgan out." The Captain sighed, walking up the matted ramp of the cargo bay door. She turned, pointing her attention to the hairiest of the crew. "Solipso, I need you to plot the fastest course to the Enpala sector. There's still no sighting of the Vespar two."

"You're on a rescue mission? That's cute," came a voice from within the Cargo Bay, "but something really must be wrong if they're scraping this far down the barrel."


Dahlia flicked around in a jerk, drawing her revolver as she looked around for the sign of the voice. "WHO'S IN HERE? SHOW YOURSELF." She found the answer sitting atop a storage container a few meters above them. Two individuals, a man and what could be vaguely described as a woman were perched atop a container of solid fuel, backup for the ship's reactor. The man was familiar- tall, clad in black and teal robes with a white mask sitting atop brown and white hair and yellow eyes. The woman, however, was a completely new sight to her, though they did give off a feeling she had most certainly felt in the Defile. Her skin was sickly and pale from what little could be seen of it beneath her layered gear, which had been penetrated by a multitude of purple crystals. Bryce Arvero in the flesh, threw his hands up almost playfully when she threatened them. "Is that how you greet an old friend? I'm no threat, Miss Morgan."

Dahlia scrunched her cheek, lowering the revolver only slightly. "What in the name of the king are you doing on my ship? And who is she?" Arvero chuckled, reaching into the pocket of his black long-coat in search of something. Alioth looked down at the Captain, and the crew with a sideways glance, as if something was off about them. A bold assumption, for someone as abominable as themselves. Dahlia immediately raised the revolver again. "I'm here to give you your reward. You all made one hell of a mess down there, but I suppose you did do what I asked. You would not believe the day I have been having though..." He paused for a moment, nodding at the other atop the shelf. "This is Alioth, I'd ask her to say hello but quite honestly she doesn't do that." Dahlia lowered the gun once more as the pocketed object was revealed to be a bundled wad of cash, tossed to the floor below her. OSC-01, however, did not let up at all. The Overseer extended all four of their glaives at once, holding one outwards while the rest orbited around herself. "You have eight seconds to tell me what you did with Ferrus before I pin you to the wall like a dart board you two-faced bog-zvy'kr." Both Dahlia and Arvero were briefly taken aback by the rather passionate explosion of the Overseer, only the latter knowing vaguely how crass that last word was while the former was trying her best to notify the Overseer of the highly volatile and highly valuable container they were sitting rather tactically upon.

At second seven, Arvero shrugged rather nonchalantly. "A bit of a rude way to ask, but okay. Even the worst friend has a right to know." OSC-01 remained firm, though Dahlia shot a questioning glance at the man, along with any of the crew who had heard the commotion. "Ferrus, or BTC-03, whatever you prefer, has been offline for a few weeks. We tried talking some sense into him, but I will tell you what that bot has got a real temper, down to the code." OSC-01 waved the explanation on, a gesture mimicked by the increasing speed of the orbiting blades. "So we're waiting for our other associate to get back to us. I'm sure she will be able to calm him right down."

The man shrugged, floating a thought. "You could help him out you know. From what I understand, your poor life decisions haven't landed nearly as hard on him as it has others, have they Tara?"

OSC-01 reeled back for a moment, caught off guard for a brief moment. Before she could fire off another threat, Arvero clapped his hands together. "Any other questions from the room? I feel there's a cloud of poor communication skills here." Arvero glanced over at Alioth. "Is it just me?" The twisted mechanic responded with an uninterested shrug- she wasn't here for the negotiations.
 
Landing Site

The bi-minded entity, Juryrig, gave Dahlia a thumbs up. "On it, Blueberry!"

He adjusted his bag, and got on a path towards the Wayfarer.

Tom eyed on the monitors with furrowed brows. He felt compelled to look back on what had happened, as something didn't... feel right?

They went into the ruins, they did some fun things with the power suits, Juryrig followed... Something?

Tom's found that both his and Juryrig's memories are fuzzy. It could be blunt force trauma, but... Gah, no, then he would've been hurting his head.

Maybe Alioth? She shoved hard that one time... No, that didn't feel right either.

Maybe it's the side effects of the Phase key??? No, Juryrig's been key to dampening the side effects of the technology by degrees greater than normal creatures.

"... Juryrig?" Tom, his thoughts dampening his cheeful demeanor, turned to the abomination working the console.

"Yeah bro, what's up? Oh, that scrap looks kinda tasty... We could use that-"

"Juryrig, you... Um, should we be concerned by the memory gaps?"

"Hm..." Juryrig looked up at the ceiling lights, then shrugged. "Nah. Those memories didn't have anything we can use to further our goal. It's mostly just us taking fat L's."

"I-You... What?"

"Focus, Tom. We ain't gonna worry about that whole business. Right now, we're just grabbing what we can. By the time we're done, the next plot beat should be wrapping itself up by now."

Tom blinked, completely lost on Juryrig's exact logic, but still willing to follow his lead. "... So... Want some random scrap facts?"

"Fuck yes, some good fucking facts."

Juryrig proceeded to rummage through the scrap heap, rapidly throwing everything that looked nice inside his bag, and tossing aside scrap metal to the side. Juryrig seemed pretty focused on the task.
 
Landing Site

Glas heard Dhalia's orders from above, but since he didn't know a single thing about how to prepare a space ship for launch, he opted to keep circling. Right up until he heard the commotion below.

Tara was angry about something. That was the only emotion he'd seen it display so far. That, and silent contempt. So, that didn't worry Glas much. However, Dahlia seemed upset, so maybe it was worth a look-see.

Glasawyr landed, his wingbeats kicking up a mini dust storm. More curious than anything, he poked his large head around the doorframe of the cargo bay. Tara had its pointy sticks out. It was pointing those pointy sticks at two new strangers whose scents were familiar. The revelation of the Overseer's name was not as big to the dragon as it likely would be to others. He really didn't care. He hadn't known the robot that long, and Romulus had already told him that its name was Tara/Osco. But most of all, he just really didn't care.

Glas made a sound of annoyance when he recognized the two.

Wonderful. It was that Box Lady and that one annoying guy. Glas hadn't had much contact with Bryce, mostly being an underling of Alioth, but whenever he'd heard the smug bird-man's voice, the dragon had come to the conclusion that he spoke too much. That, and that Bryce was a total tool. He chittered and chattered like a small forest bird, which made much noise in an effort to seem important and worthy of mating, but in reality served no greater purpose than as a food source for larger animals.

Alioth, well, it wasn't like she'd killed his hatchlings, but his beef with her was a result of many small things that had steadily built up into a desire to kill her and carelessly dump her useless carcass on this pan-forsaken planet to be forgotten forever. She was boring, rude, and all around just unpleasant. She'd also tried ordering him to attack or otherwise accost his new friends, a (mostly) peaceful group which included children. For no other reason than that they happened to be in some random cave. The only reason he didn't act out his fantasy was because his Alpha had not commanded it, and he'd had enough experience with starships to recognize the smell of fuel. It was very volatile, as he'd learned during one hairy adventure involving a bunch of angry drunken sailors and fire magic. He couldn't risk blowing up the ship.

However, Bryce apparently left the floor open for questions. Not that Glasawyr had any. He really, really didn't care about a single thing the human was talking about. He only cared about the safety of Dahlia, and Tara somewhat. The Alpha seemed fond of it. So, Glas licked his chops apprehensively and continued silently staring at the intruders...

...

...

Where in the hell was a bottle of barbecue sauce when you needed one?
 
Landing Site

There was too much conflicting information.

No, not too much information. Illogical information. There were -- other people. Those people were replaced. The fall was too great to survive. And yet here she was, climbing out of the rubble with an awful headache. Voltage was not looking great. The once-incandescent glow of the key was faded, as her driver's systems told her that she had taken 'a massive impact.' That would shut any key down.

Quantum immortality, she remembered. A completely absurd theorem. The idea that no matter how the Schrodinger's experiment went, if you were the cat, you would survive every time because you had to be your own observer...so the universe shunted you through as many loopholes as necessary to get you there.

That would...explain the conflicting information. She remembered a magician. She remembered a...combat robot of Romulus's design. She remembered Dahlia carrying a different weapon. She remembered her own Driver. Yes, that would be the spinning top. The loaded die. She checked its schematics, its code, its everything. It was different. Just slightly different -- still her handiwork, very obviously, with how compact the buses were here and how few layers she got away with there -- but there was a through-hole in the PCB where she remembered there was not, and the pattern of illumination and piping was ever so slightly different. Still theoretically just as optimized. Still different.

Either she had false memories implanted in her all this time...or her death was so unresolvable by the universe that it had to shunt her into a completely different reality, one where the equipment was different, one where this...Friday and this Artemis existed, and yet those two did not exist. Those two...the magician...the robot...

...who were they again?

She wrote down everything. No more information can be lost.

"Could you...not?" Marie mumbled, in Arvero's general direction. "I'm trying to record proof of one of the wildest theorems having just been proved. I think, at least."
 
Landing Site

Romulus didn't even have to look at Arvero to aim his newly-reforged gun at the Avian Menace. His posture was restrictive but casual, kind of like you were shoved in the back of an empty bus in the smallest seat, cramped and dissociated away from the rest of the crew by his own self-arrogance.

"Tell me. What do you have to gain by working with that Cult? What's so worth it you endanger everyone you've ever known?"

As if some new confidence flowed through the mechanic, Reman slowly pulled the gun up, away from Arvero, almost as if actually taking a reasonable, rational decision. Reman's exploits in the mines, brave enough to even be fooled and not pursued made the lad in overalls grow leagues in confidence. The weapon he used, etched in his mind was wielded like a tool in his self confidence; cleaving through the once entrenched layers of fear and mistrust in his mind.

"You're going to resolve this like a person this time. You did better in disguise than in person."

"And you're just going to sit here and listen to someone colluding with THEM?"

"I don't even know who 'them' even refers to? When are YOU going to stop keeping so many damn secrets?"

The Artificer turned around, back to the scene unfolding. Arrogant to the very last.
 
Trayll II
Surface

Juggling a single remote detonator with his left hand, Vargas emerged from amid the smoke spread by the explosion. Having managed to, in the nick of time, blow open an escape route for the crew, the ex-sergeant took a short moment to relax his nerves as impending doom was now a concern of the recent past. Now, where had Rhea gone off to? Stoic as ever, he made way to rejoin the rest of... everybody else, who no doubt went ahead to rendezvous at the ISS Downrider proper. His right arm was still busted from the earlier rockfall, but toughing out a broken bone or two should be no big deal.

Landing Site

Stowing away the remote underneath his travel poncho alongside his other number of explosives, Vargas used his one good hand to brush away the handful of settling ash that had found nest on his shoulders and hair, making himself somewhat presentable as he approached the ship. "Heeey, Rhea! Are you... oh, fucking hell, it's that asshole again," he said, banging loudly on the outer hull before entering and arriving just in time to overhear the brunt of the conversation between rival expeditions. Admittedly, as resident informant, librarian, and archivist, Vargas was not at all in good terms with the Arcandum Union for decidedly making his job harder by just existing, though that was at most a one-sided enmity.

"Questions! Yes, I suppose you would like some..." he said, sighing and pinching the bridge his nose before walking into the Cargo Bay proper and facing the smug Bryce Arvero himself, but not prior to taking note of Alioth's presence, the woman a remarkably familiar sight he had seen for a split second down in the Defile. "...though, first things first, I suppose I ought to thank your crystalline associate for saving my life. Credit where it is due, so on and so forth, but regardless," Vargas paused to point an accusatory finger at the man. "Just what is your, and the Arcandum Union's, deal? If I may be correct in assuming, those gargoyles back in Alipier Observatory were your henchmen, and they've directly caused harm to this expedition, alongside with that Satori all but booting us out and your reclaiming of some of our artifacts. Yet you show your face here, call yourself our friend, and reward us for a job well done? I would say you've a case of identity crisis, but I'm not quite sure myself just what you're trying to achieve."
 
ISS Downrider
Smug Showdown



"Okay, I'll shoot. What's this reward you mentioned?" The living cloud mentioned to Bryce, her voice preceding her re-arrival from the small cockpit as the reactor the birdman was resting next to started to gently hum and power up. It would be a couple minutes' time until takeoff was ready, good enough for this type of conversation to end.

"If we're at least getting paid in something for nearly being killed, you might as well give it to us," Artemis said while crossing her arms threateningly. Some of her hair blew in front of her face. Menacing, indeed. Terrifying, even. One might even say that she looked a bit upset.
 
Landing Site

Rhea Just nodded at Vargas and muttered "I'm fine, going to lay down." As she moved to brush past the cargo to go find the living quarters. She didn't particularly want to look too closely at the walking example of what could happen to her if she wasn't careful- she had enough visions of what could happen as it was.

"Also, when you grin like that you look like you're on drugs." She said towards Bryce and moved on. She wasn't interested in staying in the same room with the two intruders... and was keen on making sure nothing was missing from deeper in the ship before they took off. She trusted the overseer to spot any discrepancies in the cargo bay. She pulled the hard hat down harder, as she walked by with the floating tablet. Specifically eyeing the two's reflection as they sayt on explosives. She was glad the visions didn't have sound yet. The visuals would be bad enough, she was sure.
 
ISS Downrider
Cargo Bay


It was amidst Marie's feverous scribbling that her pen tragically gave out, leaking ink across her quickly-soiled notes. A most unfortunate day for human science indeed. Perhaps she could still recall some by the time she found another.

Bryce glanced at the mountain of fluff that had questioned him, pointing to the floor below. "Five thousand credits is hardly collateral payment, I know, but I'm certain it's more than you've made this year." scratched his chin for a moment, kicking a foot over his knee. The man was wearing a rather nice set of black dress shoes, a stark contrast to his affiliate's slightly oversized work boots. The man pointed a finger at Vargas, and then upwards. "I'm so glad you asked!" Alioth rolled her... eye at the both of them. "The Arcandum Union is more than a mere expedition my young man, that is only a small part of our plans. We seek out these abandoned locations to bring life to them once more for historical value most certainly but-"

"But." Dahlia cut in. "But," Arvero continued with a hint of annoyance, "the very heart of the Arcandum Union lies in revealing the ugly truth and fate that has plagued our people for centuries, concealed just out of reach. A lie that started with a certain person you may know as The Faceless Baron. I'm certain old Triangles here has filed you in on much of their splendor, yes?"

OSC-01, the cat's out of the bag, perhaps formerly known as OSC-01 snapped a glaive back upwards. "Their Facelessness was twice the man you are, snake." Dahlia blinked for a moment, glancing at the Overseer and then back to the man on the box. "Actually... no. She's not been very forthcoming on the subject." OSC-01's hardy facade was momentarily broken as the Overseer snapped a glance at the captain. Bruce clapped his hands together. "Oh hoh hoh! So she HASN'T been telling you anything good after all! Well, I'm sure that will be an interesting conversation..." Alioth rolled her hand in a 'get on with it' manner.

Bryce pointed his finger upwards once more, continuing his tale. "To keep it short, the Faceless Baron came to be known for helping bringing a premature end to a cataclysmic event, a universal plague upon everyone and everything. Stone and earth ripped from its core, lives gone in an instant, a great imbalance of echyllis spread across the universe. The Schism is what I hear people call it." Dahlia raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "I've heard that word thrown around."

"Yes!" Bryce proclaimed. "Even today the people say they destroyed it for good, but I am here to liberate you with the truth poor Downriders! The Baron is a false prophet, they did not stop the Schism! They merely delayed the inevitable, and I must tell you that the time is close at hand once gain."

Dahlia raised an eyebrow taking a step back. "Let me guess, you're bringing forth some kind of apocalypse??" In tandem, Tara continued her inquisition. "You know nothing of them, how would you begin to think any of this as true?" Arvero smiled bleakly and shook his head. "Oh no no, quite the opposite. You see, we seek to save the world from this horrible abomination."

The man stood up in a bolt, bringing the woman up alongside him. It became quickly apparent that this Arvero was no ordinary man, as cast behind his black robes was a pair of precariously cleaned, if somewhat small tawny wings. The sight baffled Dahlia and set Tara into a defensive posture immediately, though the man left no time to question- if he was even aware of their shock. "And you see Downriders, I know this because this plague has come to affect both me and this poor, poor soul." The man, the Arcadian brought their fellow alien into the spotlight for the moment. She seemed entirely uninterested in this, but went along with it anyway as if rehearsed. "The violence hidden in the Great Nothing beyond stripped of her past, her visage, even her name- but what cruelty takes away, it also bestows opportunity. Now," Bryce said as he resumed an upright posture, "she has seen the many futures the universe holds, confirming what I feared most. Ever since I woke up abandoned in a cold and threatening world I knew..." The man thrust an arm upwards, a metal gauntlet clenched into a fist as the smug tone of his voice began to subside into pure command. "The Schism is not over, Downriders, it's time is coming once again. Out there are agents of chaos," the man paused as he glanced down at the group "are out there, looking to rush it forth or worse- do nothing but prevent its stoppage. The end is coming for us all, and if we do nothing to stop it than I am sure the fate that befell Alioth and I will be the least of it's wrath."

"I-" Dahlia began with a stutter, before a dark metal gauntlet was pointed down upon her. "It is this threat we toil towards, scrambling to prepare for. Those who refuse to believe will sit idly by and let fate take them, but my followers know that it is not just to sit by knowing what is coming. Those who risk destruction are in our hands, and our inaction will be their downfall." The gauntlet moved slowly to Reman. "Dire situations such as the fate coming for us requires the most uneasy alliances. What you perceive as a greatest threat is a mere concern, but the resources and knowledge they hold may willingly or unwilingly aid in bracing for the oncoming storm." The man's voice settled in intensity as did his gaze, breathing outward. "Unlike some."

Are we finished yet. Dahlia was still trying to process the fact that this man may very well be a member of the lost race they had been searching for- let alone anything apocalyptic he said. Still, this didn't add up with her. Dahlia threw a finger forward, trying to mimic the power posture of the other captain on the high ground. "You put my crew in immediate danger, threatening us with a blizzard and then with force. I'm sorry, but that doesn't sound quite heroic for someone looking for help and heroism."

Bryce nodded, pacing about on the lip of the highly explosive canisters. "I shall be on the straight and narrow with you, Dahlia, treasonist, and company. The end of our time is not all Alioth has seen. Just before it she's witnessed time and time again," the man turned, placing both palms together to point down at the crew, "you." Dahlia was taken aback briefly. "What do you mean, us?" Bryce spurred back into his tangent. "Every time, every destruction, you're batch of nuts and bolts were there to unleash it. No violence, no bargaining, no pleading, no reasoning would stop you from dooming us all. Of course I hardly believed her, after all how much trouble could some indebted adventurers could cause- that is until you showed up on my doorstep back in Alipier."

Bryce Arvero turned, pointing at the crew firmly. "I refused to believe it, my gut reaction was to force you away. I had been warned what storm of chaos and destruction you would leave in your path, everywhere you went. I needed time to see what was laid out ahead of me. Now I'm starting to see it come to distraught reality."

"It's true." Alioth added bluntly. The theatrics were Arvero's department for good reason.

Dahlia's brow shot up as she drew her arm up in disgust. "EXCUSE ME??" Before she could continue, Bryce hopped on his figurative stand once more. "But I refuse to believe that will be your fate, Downriders. I believe you're being lead by a false prophet, one who has clearly been lying to you about their involvement. I ask you abandon this expedition, Downriders. For the good of everyone here and elsewhere." Bryce paused, clearing his mind with a breath. Oh please let this be over already. "It's not too late to come to reason."

Bryce Arvero left the room in silence for a moment to process everything that had just transpired, including his offer. Ten seconds later, he had calmed once again with a sly smile. "So, Any more good questions?"
 
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ISS Downrider
Cargo Bay


Glasawyr had sort of tuned out Bryce's rambling- a skill he had picked up during his temporary stint working for the Arcandum Union. But when the annoying canary hopped off his crate and revealed his wings, Glas' interest was suddenly piqued. His pupils widened to the size of dinner plates. The world darkened except for a single, heavenly beam of light shining down on those magnificent, feathered appendages. There was even an angelic choir singing joyfully within the dragon's mind.

"Blah, blah blah blah, something unimportant. Everyone please look at me, and notice me!" the annoying little bird chittered, the sound painful to Glas' ears.

"I am very small and weak, which I compensate for by jabbering incessantly. Blah blah, something doom. Blah blah, something gloom. My human arrogance compels me to believe I have the whole universe figured out. Blah blah." he continued, pointing sanctimoniously down at Dahlia. "Fear not, however, because I do have one redeeming quality! These bad-boys!"

The little bird pointed proudly to his wings.

"Look at how much meat they have compared to a regular bird! Don't you just hate how you have to harvest so many fowl in order to have a full meal? Why don't chicken restaurants have an option for a one hundred-piece meal? Do the humans not realize that dragons need to eat more? Those self-centered jerks!" Bryce lamented. Glasawyr agreed on that point, at least.

"But my wings are big enough to satisfy even the largest of appetites! And think of the possibilities! You could grill them, bake them, deep fry them with batter! And the spices! Good heavens, the spices! There's so many to choose from. Oh, but for sure you'll use paprika. You mustn't forget the paprika."

No, he most certainly wouldn't! Maybe he'd even add basil?!

"I'm insufferable," Alioth added morosely with a sigh, immediately killing the excitement. "It would literally kill me to tell a joke. You can't even eat me because of the unnatural poison that infests my body. I should be culled from the herd."

After Bryce's grand speech, there was a moment of silence. Unfortunately, it was broken by Glasawyr, a being known for his utter lack of intelligence, tact, nor respect for human social norms. The beast began salivating, and let out low noise of hunger, his eyes never leaving Bryce's appendages.

CHIMKEN WIMNGS
 
ISS Downrider
Cargo Bay


At her captain's command, Friday had begun her work. "Well, medicine is a good way to start the morning, after a-" She paused, taking a look at the sky a second time. She squinted into the sun for... probably a good minute before asking "Actually, is it more like noon? Midday? Always a little hard to tell on these alien planets." She sighed with a shrug, stopping before she went on some kind of tangent. Raising her head, a little electronic noise came from her as her pupils began to widen, before a small orange glow came from them. "Thermals activated." The woman squealed, as she took a look over the crew from her position.

Nothing too bad, a few cuts, maybe a few bruises, she complained to herself. Nothing that some bandages wouldn't fix, but oh well, its something at least. She started to find some of the aforementioned bandages, maybe a few chemicals just in case, but then, she saw it.

What did she see? Well, it looked like someone suffered quite a bit of damage, maybe some inflammation? Or some internal bleeding? "No," she thought to herself, "That's a big ol' broken arm, that's what it is!" as she began to giggle wildly, her mechanical hand twitching and squirming in excitement as she put the bandages away. "...well, it PROBABLY is! ...I hope."

But, unfortunately for her target, she was rapidly approaching on their location, a wild, ecstatic look on her face. The barely-alive cyborg had no care for what Bryce had been saying, nor for what he might say. Instead, she opted to raise a hand in his direction, opening and closing it like a mouth as he spoke, before she piped up. "HEY VARGAS!" She yelled out, not giving a damn about what anyone else thought. "Mind letting me take a quick look at that arm of yours?" Friday said, barely holding back excitement as she began digging through one of her pockets, gaining on him with swift, loud strides.
 
ISS Downrider
Cargo Bay


"You are going to tell me what you are doing with THAT though. Right now." Romulus just wouldn't drop the tone no matter how hard Reman tried to get Romulus to relax with vague gesturing and nervous posture. Romulus's infernal hatred burned deep to his core, the malice oozing out of every syllable like smoke pouring out of a burning skyscraper, growing more prominent till it's a way-marker for misery in the distance to all around him.

"As if I'm just going to take the word of someone who sympathizes with those cultists without a fucking explanation." Reman felt that nagging feeling he had after he had realized for the first time he was about to be assassinated.

That deep pit, still and lifeless. Romulus got up and decided at that very moment he would finally hint at what he did wrong. There was no point keeping this crew entirely in the dark, especially with Conroe in the vacinity. "If you think that the quote-en-quote 'Baron' is the only one to make a mistake that could end all tomorrows is laughable." Romulus pulled out a random key, a brown one with inscriptions on it that resemble mountains and earth. "Apparently you don't know what you're toying with, and I know it's not just the random scraps of Echyllis inside in these you need to worry about."

Four keys. A sealed box.
 
The Downrider
Oh God dammit he's still talking

The resident spook just rolled her eyes at Bryce's comment. There was a thought, How much would it set us back to steal his stuff? This thought was unfortunately not followed through, as tempting as it was to rob a man who flaunted his mouth all day. Then he said something that actually got Artemis's attention.

"So, what, you're not gonna tell us how we end the world, and expect us to trust you? I'll give you an ear here, Bryce. There's a lot you're trying to tell us, but you focus a bit too much on the theatrics and not enough on what matters." Artemis crossed her arms, and gave the slightest scowl. "If we've got a false prophet, why don't ya tell us why they're wrong? Asking Osco questions is easier just because she's always around. You disappear for weeks and then suddenly arrive acting like we're supposed to read your mind!"
 
The Downrider

Once again, the narrator has lost complete control over the variable that is "Juryrig's Current Location", for thus Juryrig disbelieved his own point in space-time.

He is now right next to Alioth, deliberately leaning against her with a face full of smug and a bag full of tagged scrap.

"You know, sometimes I don't know what's the point in working with other people. Compromising? Pffff, why're you compromising with Chicken Wing over there?" He asks, gesturing to Bryce.

"You got talent, girlfriend. I'm pretty sure you can handle your objectives really well... Well, except for the PR. You ain't got the charisma. You got everything else, though, so all you got to do is just... krrrrrk," Juryrig clenched his throat tight with one of his hands, faking the expression of being choked, "Put a leash on the man!"

As he talked to Alioth, he made sure to keep it all to a inside voice, as to not attract attention from the Downriders who're practically throwing eggs at Bryce in every sense but the literal one.

"Yeah? No? C'mon, I'll pay a penny for your thoughts!"
 
The Downrider

Rhea hesitated as she was leaving the cargo bay, distracted by Aver's impassioned... 'speech'. So, she thought. And frowned. Could it be true? They could be lying. Worse, it could be a wrongful conviction.

And even if it was true... did it matter? She tugged her hard hat down a little lower on her brow and did an about face, looking over the rest of the gang, having passed Bryce and his sick goon she didn't really want to think about. What was there to say, really? Especially with everyone else knee deep in Impassioned Speech. She sure couldn't talk it up with the best of them. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Not to mention she was certain that it would go unheard in the cacophony. She had to admit one thing, he could really rile up a room.

This was made no better by the fact that, ostensibly, they shared a species. God she hoped she wasn't related to him somehow... Although she was curious about the lack of attention the two payed her. They'd probably seen enough of her from their visions anyway. Hm, she wondered if they had anything valuable on them... From her position behind them, having originally intended to simply walk on by, she looked them over as she would a mark back in that desolate mining town, intent on seeing if they had anything within easy reach that they'd want to remain on their person.

She also eyed her tablet. It could probably tell her wether what she was doing was a bad idea or not, at least... or what she might find without actually having to rifle through their pockets herself.
 
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