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Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

My vision grays, but I manage to hold myself together. Literally—my right arm needs the help. I fold my ams close to my chest and shuffle on my knees—I don't think I could stand—in Marina's direction. It's not really a conscious thing—twisted though she is, Marina's still the closest thing to safety, and she's not towards Lisathl. She says something, but I don't really hear it.
I notice dully that Lisathl's turned the machine off and is looking at me expectantly. If it'll keep him from doing that again…
I start babbling about the other members of the platoon, with slurred speech, low coherence, and vanishingly little relevance. Some of the people I talk about are already dead, or not even in the platoon at all—I mention that one of the guys from the elite squad owes me a drink—but I skip over that.
While that's happening, I gingerly extend my hands again and start sawing at the bonds holding Marina's ankles.
I'm not really sure what I'm trying to achieve with this, but I can't just pass out without doing anything. Maybe she can bash the side of the machine in or something.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Follow my squad and Ebafika.
keep an eye out for pursuers and notify the others if any are spotted
Hapchazzard wrote:
Tue Aug 13, 2019 10:30 am
Take out my PDA and look for any possible wireless utility access points (lights, gravity, oxygen, heating, in approximately that order of preference), take note of them
"Hey, take care with that. When i sent you the message earlier mine acted up really weird. May theres someone trying to mess with them, with ours specifically"

if attacked at any point
-stay close to Brom
-use my sword for any targets of opportunity on the way to cover (up to two times)
-if theres a conveniently dense clumping of enemies at a safe distance fire one salvo from the plasma bomb launcher at them

Talvieno wrote:
Wed Aug 14, 2019 12:30 pm
Fixed it for you :D ))

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Cornflakes_91 wrote:
Thu Aug 15, 2019 6:24 am
Raise up my head from my PDA and look at Yuuji with some curiosity

"Weird? What'd ya mean?"

Look back down on my own PDA, then frustratedly shake it as it seems to have frozen up again

"Damn pieces o' tin are always actin' up all strange! At this point, the most queer thing would be if they worked without no problems for more than 10 seconds."

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

(( :eh: I thought we were waiting for another mini update with Hosef'Wa's response to Frank? You said you were rolling for it on irc a bit back and that's why I hadn't posted actions...
If I'm still allowed... ))
If we're actually attacked,
I use my staff to block incoming fire while getting in whatever nearbye cover I can find and try to find gaps in the firing to stasis the 2 guards at the door, and use my grav amp to throw whatever enemies remain away or out of the room (up to 4 attacks in total, no more etc)
Otherwise, I only put the battlestaff away if the guns of the antagonists are also put away.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

((I didn't get the notice! Nargh D: ))

If shooting starts
-scramble back between/behind weapon stands/displays and out of sight
-hastily circle around and try to get a tranqu shot into one of the attackers
-for hralks, first check if there's soft/unarmored spots that are suitable to stab a tranqu into
Stay the heck out of reach!
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Hapchazzard wrote:
Thu Aug 15, 2019 8:02 am

"Weird? What'd ya mean?"
"It flashed some intrusion warning for a second and then went on as if nothing happened. My PDA might be compromised, im not sure and am not good enough at handling confusers to check the thing over myself.
If it was compromised it also must have been a very quick attack and thus probably too well hidden for me to find anyway.
The same might happen to you if you poke around the network too much."

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Turn 14

  "Prepare yourselves, men!" Brom cries valiantly, drawing his assault rifle and holding it up in the air in a pose worthy of any mid-to-low-tier anime. "A worthwhile battle has finally found us! Mokila! Give the word and we will fight alongside mmfmfmm mfmfm -"
  Brom is very fortunately cut short as Ebafika clamps a hand over Brom's mouth. "Shhh!" the fysar hisses. "They'll hear you."
  Mokila is hardly paying attention, pacing back and forth across the room, head-tentacles whipping about as he pivots. "Why? Why would they come now? They weren't followed - they wouldn't have followed them without attacking. They wouldn't have risked a larger firefight when they were already by themselves. It doesn't make sense!" Then, distractedly to Ebafika: "Get your hand off his mouth and call in another squad of guards."
  "Already did, iviri," Ebafika replies. He does not move his hand. Brom is starting to look a little disgruntled.
  "Good, good," Mokila mutters. Then, suddenly, he stops short mid-pace; his eyes narrow. "Squiligan," he hisses. "He would have known. He was trying to take both of us out at once - if not by firefight, then by association... He would know that the FMU wouldn't look kindly on finding them here..."
  Buck speaks up, a benefit of not having a hand over his mouth. "Maybe you dun' want to be seen with us? N' especially not with us fightin' alongside you? We ain't exactly good for, what's them inner-worl'ers call it... PR?"
  "I certainly do not," Mokila agrees brusquely. "Not right now. Not until the station politics settle down. So. That means you gentlemen need to leave. Now. And quietly - no shouting." (This last is leveled directly at Brom.) "Ebafika, lead them out. They'll probably have the corridors outside covered. So..." He gives a few directions in Fysarian; it seems to be a lot quicker to communicate in Fysarian than Galactic Standard.
  Ebafika gives a short nod, takes his hand off of Brom's mouth and motions for the trio of REKT members to follow as he heads to the doorway.

  "We shall respect your wishes, Mokila," Brom says in a low whisper. "Once we've reached a secure location, we'll send word of our decision."
  As the inmates follow Ebafika through the back rooms in Men'ko's complex, Buck pulls out his PDA, intending to see if he can hack into any nearby utility systems.
  "Hey, take care with that," Yuuji warns, peering over Buck's shoulder.
  Buck glances back quizzically, and silently holds up his PDA as if asking, "What, this?"
  Yuuji nods. "When I sent you the message earlier, mine acted really weird. Someone might be trying to mess with them."
  This concerns Buck greatly. "Weird how? Whatcha mean?"
  "It flashed some intrusion warning for a second and then went on as if nothing happened," Yuuji explains, as they pass into a very dimly-lit hallway. "My PDA might be compromised. I'm not sure. I'm not good enough at handling computers to check the thing over myself. If it was compromised, it also must have been a very quick attack, and thus probably too well hidden for me to find anyway. The same might happen to you if you poke around the network too much..."
  Buck feels dreadfully uncomfortable as he finishes putting in his password, and immediately stops short. His PDA already has a menu open: a list of contacts. Everyone from the squads is listed - even the vets, and some people he's fairly sure he hasn't met. Stranger still, there's a message in the outbox - but it's completely blank. It looks like it's been sent to... well, everyone. "Sweet mother o' holy hell..." he whispers, paling.
  As Buck fiddles with his PDA, trying to make it more secure, Ebafika leads them deeper and deeper into the station. They don't really see any other option.

  For Beta, there is simply one option too many. They can't make up their minds whether or not to stop by Hosef'Wa's place on their way to the old palaces. Finally, though, Frank suggests they flip a coin to decide. He takes out a plat chip and designates one side as heads, and the other as tails. Then he flips it.
  It lands on heads.
  Frank looks at the chip on the back of his glove for a long moment and groans. "Meeting the anti-human merchant it is, then. Not that I'll complain, having made the proposal..." He looks very much like he's regretting his decision.
  Nilo isn't particularly pleased either. However, he keeps his composure but for a sigh. "Nothing is as fair as chance."
  "It's decided, then," Caleb says, pleased. "Let's get going - we should get this over with."
  No one complains, so the four inmates retrace their steps to where they found Maki originally, and follow his directions to get to Hosef'Wa's shop.
  But Frank is starting to get the distinct feeling that someone is following them at a distance - a strange, hooded figure that keeps to the shadows.

  Along the way, they get a brief respite from the doom-and-gloom attitude they've adopted when they pass by a shop that smells horribly like a barnyard, and is labeled "Kobi's Animals" - one of the key points in the directions Maki gave. They finally figure out what "dralhenda" are - and it turns out their suspicions were correct. Dralhenda are the exact same creature as the "drakedogs" that Frank and Saoirse encountered back on Nanyej. These, however, are just babies. They're tiny and adorable - small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.
  On noticing their interest, the shopkeeper, Kobi, hands one to Saoirse. She cradles the little guy in her hands as the fuzzy lizard licks her fingertips, and soon curls up in a little ball to sleep in her palm's warmth. Frank overcomes his fear of the creature enough to get a closer look, and even he has to admit they're adorable... although his previous experience at Huhoba Qitsit gives him a strong repulsion at the same time.
  "So... these are the things you were so afraid of?" Caleb asks, touching the little guy with a fingertip. "Doesn't look too bad to me."
  Frank only glares. Nilo, on the other hand, looks impatient.
  The whole detour is actually going pretty well, though, until the shopkeeper mentions the price.
  Saoirse's eyes widen. "How m-much??"
  Chuckling, Kobi repeats himself: 4000 creds for the little pup. "They grow up quick," he reminds them. "Dralhenda always do. Good guard in just a month, nice sharp teeth. Good age to get - hasn't lost the fuzz yet. You sure you no want?"
  But there's of course no way that Saoirse can afford the little guy. She herself only has 250 plat left. Even if Caleb and Frank pitched in, they'd be far from the 4000 mark. And so, with a sad sigh, the woman hands the little pup back, giving his neck one final stroke. The little lizard chirrups and nuzzles her hand, making the parting even harder. The shopkeeper strokes the pup himself and places him back into an open-topped crate at one side of the room.
  The inmates soon leave, continuing towards Hosef'Wa's shop.

  As they walk, Saoirse decides to break the silence, albeit hesitantly. "Now, then, em... I was thinking. As... our friend told us, the FMU are looking for us. And the guards in the comm shop were FMU, and the gang we’re headed to are allied to them, and so is Hosef'Wa. Maybe it’s possible they sent word of us to look around for us. Now, I don’t think they really got a good look at us in these suits as we were in quite a hurry to leg it, but we weren’t exactly being quiet about our names, and especially mine isn’t exactly one ye hear every day, to be sure. Maybe we’ve right to use code names from now on? Just to be safe.”
  "Not a bad idea, Saoirse," Nilo agrees. "I shall go by 'Polaris' until we are in more secure areas."
  Caleb ponders this. "Right. I'll be... Cole." It's the name of his old platoon sergeant. Caleb remembers fondly that the man had seemed like he'd walked straight out of a recruitment poster.
  "I can be... Estelle?" Saoirse offers. "That doesn't sound too out there, right?" Nobody seems to think so.
  "Are we really doing this? Oh well... give me a moment..." Frank sighs, thinking. Despite fully approving of the reason, he doesn't really have his heart in it. "So long as it doesn't have to be fancy, I'll go with Samuel for now."
  And so Polaris, Cole, Estelle, and Samuel continue towards their objective.


  Vrish watches closely to discern what effect his list of names might have on the two inmates.
  "Yeah, throw out some names we've never heard of before. At least put some effort into it, jeez," Teaw says, attempting (and failing) to put on an unconcerned expression. Her eyeroll comes across as robotic and, quite honestly, terrified. Even her hands are shaking.
  "Dead?" Glory looks shocked, stunned. "They're dead?" Her face melts into a picture of horror.
  Vrish gives a very slow nod.
  Glory's horrified expression evaporates in an instant as she bursts out in maniacal laughter. "Teaw! Teaw! Did you hear that? They're dead! Those idiots got themselves slaughtered like pigs while finding a daytime job!"
  Vrish smirks slightly at Teaw, with an expression that appears to mean, "So much for your shoddy attempts at deception."
  "Oh yeah, I remember now," Teaw says, a bit uncomfortably. "There was another guy in our squad. Don't remember his name - only known him for, what, two days? We haven't seen him since we jumped across, though. He went off, uh..." she nods in a random direction, "that way. For all I know he's frozen to death in orbit by now, or maybe splattered halfway around this rad-soaked rockball. You counting him?"
  "Vrish!" Glory wipes a non-existent tear of laughter from her eyes with her shoulder. "Vrish, please, I know you're interrogating us, and I hate to interrupt, but, please at least tell us how they died!" She erupts into a half-smothered snort-laugh again.
  Vrish looks thoughtful. "Hmm... Perhaps. I'm allowed to tell you. But first... I'd like to know a little more about this squadmate of yours, Teaw. It seems we've finally made a sort of breakthrough." He steps slightly closer, staring into her eyes. "Where were you when you jumped? What was his name, and what did he loo -"
  But at that moment, Teaw lunges from her seat. Vrish, caught entirely unprepared, stumbles backwards with a shout of surprise and falls. Glory begins shouting in fake agony to drown out any other sounds - of where there are many. Teaw hurls herself forwards bravely... but she may not have entirely thought this through. Her ankles are still attached to the chair, and when she leaps, the chair comes with her, sending her sprawling on the floor with a loud clatter. She wriggles and writhes on her stomach, but as Vrish calmly gets to his feet (or tentacles, rather), Glory gradually stops shouting, seeming to realize that the escape attempt is completely botched. Teaw does not seem to realize this; she feels much more afraid, craning her neck back to look at Vrish. Her hands are still shackled behind her back, and remain so despite her struggles.
  "Well, now," Vrish Lisathl coos, a cruel smile on his lips. "You planned this together, didn't you." It's not posed as a question. "You're quite fiesty, especially for a prisoner... but we can work that out of you with a little effort." Calmly, he steps around Teaw and switches on the Nazas JZ-49. It begins to rattle, and then hum, exuding a shaking, gurgling, pumping sound from within.
  Near-panicked, an adrenaline-fueled Teaw bends against the ground so she can move her hands behind her legs and starts viciously sawing away at the bonds holding her left shin. In the meantime, Marina decides to try to break free of her chair by pure force and willpower, using her limbs as levers against each other and the chair and trusting in their armored durability.
  Vrish watches these proceedings calmly, thoughtfully flipping a few more switches on the Nazas here and there. "You're wasting valuable time," he says, making sure he keeps his tentacles well away from Teaw's thrashing on the floor. He removes a secondary nozzle from the machine and appends it to the first, deftly screwing it on and locking it into place. "I asked you a simple question, Teaw - if, indeed, that is your name. All I required was knowledge of your allies. And, for the future, do remember that I wasn't the one that chose to take things this far."
  Teaw, quite honestly terrified at this point, manages to wrench her left leg away from most of the straps and immediately starts on the other side. As Vrish approaches, she bucks her chair violently in his direction, but he is able to avoid it easily.
  Marina, across the room, is straining against her bonds. It seems quite clear by this point that she simply does not possess the strength to break free - or anywhere near it.
  Vrish, with a pleasant smile, lowers the nozzle towards Teaw's left shoulder. "Let's see," he says softly. "Will it be this time?"
  He pulls the trigger. The Nazas clicks and whirs, in the manner of an engine that refuses to start.
  The interrogator turns to Marina, as though she's his studio audience. "Ah well," he says with a humorous shrug. "One time out of five or so, I did say."
  At that moment, Teaw manages to get her other leg free. Almost mad with panic at this point, she moves her shackled wrists swiftly beneath her legs so as to get her hands in front of her, springs from the floor, and throws her weight at Vrish to knock him over.
  ...But she suddenly finds herself sprawled painfully on the ground with her hands beneath her, bleeding from gashes to her right arm, back, and face. It happened too fast for her to understand; all she saw was Vrish move out of the way. Marina, on the other hand, saw everything. Agile as a cat, Vrish had smoothly sidestepped Teaw's charge and bent to the side, flinging three of his heavy leg-tentacles as whips in her direction in the manner of a roundhouse kick. Where the gashes came from, she can only speculate, but peering closer, she notices what appear to bands of metal on the lowest portions of Vrish's tentacles.
  Without a word, Vrish steps closer to his target and swiftly presses the nozzle against her right arm, pulling the trigger. The Nazas chugs and churns; Teaw screams in agony as an electrical sensation slices through her skin, shattering the bone.
  "One of five," the hiltorel says pleasantly over his shoulder to Marina. "Better results this time than the last, I would say." Then, turning back to the collapsed Teaw, he continues in a relaxed, lighthearted tone, "Do you want to keep playing your little game? I could go for your legs next, you know. I could shatter your spine. I could gouge a chunk right out of your head." As an afterthought, he adds, "And that goes for you as well, of course... Marina." He returns to the Nazas and flips another couple of switches, and the machine settles back down to a low hum. "Now, with this messy business out of the way, shall we continue with our interrogation?"
  Marina sighs. "Well, we tried. Sister, scream louder so I can die happy." She settles in and waits for the torturing to commence.
  But Teaw isn't really aware that Marina is talking. She's barely able to hold herself together; her vision grays as she folds her arm close to her chest. Dazed, she tries desperately to shuffle on her knees towards Marina's chair - and, more importantly, away from Vrish Lisathl.
  "Come now," Vrish says calmly. "I need details." His words echo dully in Teaw's ears; she's barely able to comprehend his speech.
  Out of fear of the instrument Vrish holds in his hands, Teaw tries to accommodate his request; her words are mumbled, slurred, and almost incomprehensible. "Beta met a... a thing on that planet. A guy. They - they - he said to meet them... somewhere here." She feels dizzy; how long can she keep this up? "Something called the Starboard - Starboard Barge? Starboard... Hauler. ...something." She's swept with a wave of dizziness as she bumps her arm, but keeps moving.
  Marina notes that Vrish seems to understand what Teaw talking about.
  "The big guy had friends here too," Teaw continues. "Mercs or... or something. He said they were friendly, but they... I... hmm..." Crawling on her knees, she stumbles and falls in a miserable little heap at Marina's feet with an agonized whimper.
  Vrish twists the Nazas attachment in his hands. "The 'big guy'?"
  "Beta," Teaw clarifies, but it comes out as a slurred whine that sounds almost like "bayuhhh." She's seeing double; she could almost swear there's a clone of Marina sitting to her left. "And... the other guys are... were wanting a place to find some... the drink stuff." She shakes her head, trying to clear it, and moves closer to the "real" Marina.
  "'Drink stuff'?"
  "Yeah, to get drunk," Teaw says, starting to try to saw through the bonds around Marina's legs. "They're... they're stupid. One of them owes me." Marina looks down at Teaw's attempts in amusement, expecting Vrish to nail her.
  But Vrish does not; he easily rolls Teaw away from Marina with one of his tentacles. (Marina is disappointed.) "I see," he says quietly. "By whom are you owed? Who are 'the guys'?"
  "The... the other ones. Not... these ones." She flops onto her back on the floor, eyes wide, arm held tightly to her chest. Her skin is smeared with blood, but it's not nearly as bad a wound as it seemed to be in the first mission. It just feels a lot, lot worse.
  After watching her for a moment, Vrish removes a tube from the toolbelt at his waist, "kneels" next to Teaw, and presses it into her leg, injecting the contents. When he's done, he tosses the little device into a dark corner of the room to discard it, and straightens. "Now then. 'Marina', is it? I believe you owe me some details as well. As your limbs are, quite unfortunately, prosthetics, I'll be forced to use the Nazas elsewhere, which will almost certainly prove to be much more damaging than it might otherwise."
  "Naturally," Marina agrees.
  "To avoid that, perhaps you can give me something to work with. You have, I know, the access codes for your PDA. I could use that. I'm sure you planned to meet up somewhere with the other REKT crew members; I could use those details as well. If you know of the armaments they have in their possession, that would be useful too. I just need a little more."
  Teaw blinks hard. Her head is clearing; she's becoming more acutely aware of the pain in her arm, but at the same time, it feels slightly less crippling. At the same time, she notices that she feels unusually tired, and mildly nauseous. What was that drug he gave her? Crude anti-shock meds? Whatever the case, her mind is finally alert enough to decide that she doesn't want Lisathl to know her mental faculties have returned to full operation; she opens her eyes wide again and pretends to be stunned.
  Vrish notices the change anyway. "Welcome back, Teaw," he says softly. "Do you want to help Marina answer some questions? It is her turn with the Nazas, now. She did say she wanted to know how your teammates died. Perhaps, if she cooperates, I can oblige. What do you think?"

  How long is this going to go on?


  As Alpha travels through the station, it begins to feel like their little journey has gone on forever. They've traveled through great columned chambers, tiptoed across abyss-spanning walkways, and maneuvered their way through tight maintenance corridors. It's been a surprisingly lengthy journey, actually. At times, if they looked over a balcony railing, they could see groups of people several stories beneath them, entirely unaware of their passing.
  "After we're clear of the building, I'll lead us to our next destination," Brom finally says to his squadmates, as they pass through yet another doorway. Ebafika's hoverlamp, floating near his shoulder as they jog, casts a bright light on the old, defunct piping lining the corridor walls. They've been traveling for several minutes now, and they're starting to wonder where Ebafika is leading them at this point.
  "You will not lead anyone anywhere," Ebafika says calmly. "We're not going downtown. Do you not speak any Fysarian?"
  The inmates unanimously agree: they do not.
  "I should have expected this," Ebafika sighs. The eyes on the sides of his head twitch. "Mokila said to take you somewhere you'd be safe - somewhere you would be protected."
  Yuuji feels suspicious. "So we're prisoners?"
  The fysar brushes the question away as though it's meaningless. "Of course not. These are some of Mokila's clients."
  Alpha continues with their journey.

  It isn't too long before Beta arrives at Hosef'Wa's shop.
  By their first impression, his shop looks remarkably better than anything else they've encountered thus far in the markets. The walls are asteroid-stone bricks, edged with rusted metal trimmings. A few of the surrounding buildings have tried to copy this style, but Hosef's shop stands out among the rest as one that looks a lot wealthier, with a cut-metal name above the entrance. The front doors are solid metal and automatic, sliding on tracks into the walls. None of this, however, has saved it from being painted with various gang signs, just like virtually everything else in the area. It looks old and worn-down, but in comparison to the canvas-and-corrugated-steel of the rest of the marketplace... it looks fairly grand.
  Of course, there is the minor detail of the sign beside the entrance that reads, in clear Standard, "HUMANS NOT TOLERATED." That might be a problem.
  Nervously, the four inmates file in through the front door.
  Their footsteps echo in the silent hall. Rows of weapons line the walls, both on shelves and attached to the walls themselves. There are hundreds of them, some plain and others painted in a variety of colors. Guns appear to be the most common, but there are melee weapons as well, and many weapons that the inmates don't even recognize. For instance, there's something that looks like a strange cross between a whip, a gun, and an angle brace, and another that resembles a bundle of grenades at the end of a nunchuck (even though that's clearly not what it is at all). There are a number of robots in here as well - mechanical spiders with clawed legs, a mechanical centipede bristling with gun barrels, and even a single humanoid model near the back. Almost all of it looks previously used.
  As the inmates slowly advance, a voice rumbles from the shadows behind the shop counter, toward the back of the room: "Why are you here, humans?" This catches their attention; they whirl in the direction of the shopkeeper - a gorvan, no less - and step forwards towards him.
  "We heard you were the go-to merchant when it's about weaponry..." Frank begins hopefully. He's hoping that the person they're talking to is, in fact, Hosef'Wa. From what the inmates can tell, though, it's a typical gorvan: four strong, bulky legs on a quadrupedal lower body, two strong three-fingered arms, and an ugly, misshapen head that is vaguely reminiscent of a whale. They're herbivorous, and rarely thought of as violent creatures - or as being incredibly intelligent.
  The gorvan doesn't say a word or even move.
  The four squadmates glance at each other in apprehension.
  "Kill them," a cold voice speaks. It's not the gorvan, but a huge, heavy, four-armed alien that emerges from a double-wide archway behind the counter. He has a weapon in his hands - a large, nasty-looking gun of some kind.
  Two well-armed wralk emerge from the shadows near the shop's entrance and bring their weapons to bear.

  The little group of humans draw their weapons in self-defense - Polaris (previously Nilo) with a Quantum lash, Estelle (previously Saoirse) with a kinetic battlestaff, Cole (previously Caleb) with a gauss shotgun, and Samuel (previously Frank) with -- well, Samuel just tries to hide behind Cole (an exercise in futility, seeing as Cole is a good deal shorter than Samuel anyway). "Daneelo!" Samuel yelps, terrified. "Daneelo sent us! For friggin's sake, call them back!"
  Waving his free hand towards the wralk guards to increase his focus, Polaris attempts to pull away their huge weapons, but they maintain their grip on them. "Your guards need not die, Hosef'Wa!" he shouts, cocking his whip back. "We are here for an exchange, not a fight!"
  A tense silence falls. No one moves - not the inmates or the guards. The REKT crew begins to feel as though they must've done something right for once... after all, they're not dead. Yet.
  The four-armed alien in the doorway shifts slightly. He seems suspicious, as though he's not entirely buying it. "Big Daneelo doesn't associate with... humans." The very word sounds like an insult as it leaves his lips. His four beady eyes slowly blink behind his transparent breathing mask, one after the next.
  "It's the truth!" Cole assures him. He's acting calm, but inside, he's cursing the station yet again. This deal keeps getting worse all the time. "We're working for Big Daneelo on an important job, and he sent us to you first."
  "Why?" the alien spits out. His face is contorted in a hideous snarl. "Why send you here? You mock me?"
  "N-no! He s-said we just had to m-mention his name, and you - you would help!" Estelle says. She adjusts the battlestaff in her hands uncomfortably.
  After a few tense moments more, the alien in the doorway slams a fist down on the countertop; the floor trembles slightly. "Grahh! Uval ukalar, nagas rilewrag!" he shouts at the guards - they immediately lower their weapons and lumber back into the shadows. Then, to the four inmates (or, mercenaries, as they appear): "Get back here! Don't waste my time!" He mutters "Kap'shik makinta" as he exits through the door.
  The shopkeeper hasn't moved once through the entire ordeal.

  Hosef'Wa (who else could this daxxian be?) leads the inmates through a hallway behind the storefront. Partway through, a wave of heat blasts them through an open doorway as they pass, and as the group glances inside, they see various alien species working at burning forges, pouring molten metal into molds, hammering out blades, and fitting pieces together. Most of them are fysar or daxxian, but there are a few bizarre species they've never seen before as well. Hosef'Wa grunts loudly (and mutters a string of curses) to get their attention, and they continue down the hall. Soon he leads them down a flight of stairs and into an old storage area full of metal crates.
  The daxxian turns back and examines the inmates closely, glaring, as though toying with the thought of killing them right then and there. But instead he only barks, "Speak! Mekoti siri, I said not to waste my time! If Big Daneelo sent you, tell me who you are, and what he wants!"


  "I am Ebafika, of the Vo Takisae! Mokila has sent me with guests!" the fysar calls out. He doesn't seem remotely worried, and, as it appears, that's with good cause: the guards at the far end of the bridge immediately lower their weapons, as though they recognize the speaker. They shout something in Fysarian - something about "makinta".
  The guards and Ebafika shout back and forth a few times, and then finally Ebafika turns back to Brom (aka Killshot), Buck (aka Terminator), and Yuuji (aka... Yuuji). "You'll be the guests of these people, probably for a couple hours," he explains. "I need to get back to Mr. Mokila. Just go where they direct you. You'll be safe here, but you cannot let them know that you're from Tartarus. Just lie low and act like mercs. After FMU calls off their searches, I'll send them a tell, and they'll escort you to the docks."
  Brom, Buck, and Yuuji cross the bridge together. Below them, if they look through the half-shattered glass walls on the sides, they can see what appears to be some sort of artfully-designed cityscape, almost like suburbs. There are a few lamps here and there, and in their light, individuals mill about, seemingly without purpose.
  As they reach the other side, Alpha files in past the guards, who treat them with a Fysarian salute. Apparently, Mokila's name holds a lot of weight around here.
  The inmates are just on the verge of asking someone where they're supposed to go when a fysarian teenager rushes up to them. She's slightly shorter than they are, and seems out of breath, but she soon speaks, articulating her words with sweeping hand gestures. "Follow me, makinta," she says. "I am to take you to safe place and kanoka."

  As they walk, the fysarian jabbers endlessly. "You Mokila's boys, eh? Kanoka not say you coming though. He and Mokila movani friends, go way-back. Told me, he did, this one, that he turn Mokila friend-good. You know story?" Buck glares at the filthy xeno. Brom doesn't want to admit he hasn't heard it. Yuuji says something, but the fysar isn't listening anyway. "Is okay, you makinta probably new, probably short-time ... ah ... work-people. Yes?" She spins about energetically, peering at the inmates, but doesn't give them a chance to respond, and goes on chattering.
  As they travel, and as the chatterbox fysar tells her story, they get a good look at their surroundings. The network of buildings through which they pass is grandiose - or, at least, it used to be. The metallic walls, lit with red-tinted bar lights embedded in the walls near the ceiling, are cracked and patched, sprayed in places with various gang signs and the like. The lights themselves have clearly been sprayed over to give them their red tint; on occasion, a gap in the spray reveals a calming white-blue - but this is rare. With equal rarity, the inmates see something that gives them a sense that this place used to be quite beautiful, before these people took it for themselves - for surely they aren't the original builders. The ornate columns have been stripped of their valuable metals, doors have been removed and replaced with cheaper versions, windows have been broken and boarded over. It looks to be over a century old, with all the telltale signs of having been taken in combat, lost, and retaken - perhaps many times - scavenged for scraps and repaired to a marginally livable condition.
  Perhaps equally interesting are the stares they get from those alien individuals they pass. Some of them, lacking proper faces for manufacturing a glare, idly caress their holstered weapons - a gesture recognizable as "I want to shoot you. I won't, but I'll keep an eye out for a reason so I can." Most of them act as though the sight of a human is unbelievable, and indeed, the inmates don't see any other humans at all.
  "- but that was way-back before I live here," the teenager laughs. (Her laugh is reminiscent of a hyena.) "Kwii ro enabi, that why they called him Skahilla-Licker, but he unliked it and did the mad, so kanoka spaced him, shy? Just like that." She holds up a hand and taps her fingers together like she's snapping; but fysarian can't snap, so it doesn't make a sound. She doesn't seem to realize that it's actually supposed to make noise. "Anyway... big story, but that why they friends. Kanoka owe Mokila big though. Way big. So he watch you safe, even if unlike you. Oh! And here Kanoka now!"

  The girl (Savoske, she said her name was) leads them into a larger, taller room with various pieces of furniture and tables. Guards and Fysar lounge here and there, either tapping at cheap non-holo PDAs or utilizing various forms of entertainment - VR booths and the like. In the center, surrounded by a group of people, is a single older-looking fysar - taller than the rest by a good deal. He's sitting next to a table with a pile of gear - weapons, suits and the like - and he's looking at a PDA.
  "Kanoka!" Savoske calls, getting the tall fysar's attention. "Ahkit ikkira jalan pishan afon kri besa Mokila!"
  "Ah," he replies. He chatters for a moment with Savoske, and then dismisses her. She twirls about and skitters over to talk to a bhezian lounging against a nearby wall.
  The tall fysar looks back at the PDA he's holding and speaks to the inmates. "Welcome. I am Febivo Keshor Mikiikah. A friend of Mokila's is, of course, a friend of mine, but I have questions. Why did he send you here?"
Last edited by Talvieno on Tue Aug 20, 2019 9:24 am, edited 1 time in total.
Reason: saoirse edit

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Talvieno wrote:
Mon Aug 19, 2019 1:14 pm
Trying to appear relatively professional:
"Uh, howdy, Feb...Kisho?"
Make the most subtle shrug at pronouncing the alien's name

"Well, we've had some dealins' with Mokila - we've talked most of it over now, really - n' we're just waitin' to catch a ride off this shithole. Now, if ya ask me, I'd rather just sit back n' swig some at the Ponderance, but some shithead alien over there dun' wants us dead now 'cause we looked at him queer or somethin'."

Throw my hands up

"Now, you've gotta trust me, I know it ain't polite, but this fukcer really was so ugly n' weird that I couldn't help it! Like, imagine this - "

Proceed to describe the scary alien gangster we saw at the Ponderance (Mebasha)

"Now, Mokila says we ain't safe or some shit, 'cause that loser won't drop it, n' now his lil' gang o' lowlifes is tryin' to find us. I tell ya though, that fukcer come anywhere near me, I'll be doin' some remodellin' on that ugly face o' his!"

Get slightly mad, almost starting to believe my own bullshit

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

Talvieno wrote:
Mon Aug 19, 2019 1:14 pm
Clearly intimidated, Fran- Samuel takes a step back ((That's hard to get used to :s))

"We'reHisCatspaws!" He blurts out quickly.
"He wants us to get a prisoner from a group in the palace and told us to go to you for a better bargaining chip, he told us to tell you his name and you'd help us! Please don't shoot us!"
Apparently, sometimes stuff might happen.

Re: REKT: BTE Mission 2: Fuhodo Station

F4wk35 wrote:
Tue Aug 20, 2019 9:22 am
"We'reHisCatspaws!" He blurts out quickly.
Well, that went a bit better than I was expecting from our welcome. Hopefully we don't wear it out too soon...

"Samuel" says his piece and I hide a grimace at his obvious nervousness, but I still nod and step forward a bit to address Hosef'wa myself.

"We're some mercs Daneelo employed, there's some lady held prisoner in there that he wants us to get released. He suggested heading here to get some kind of weapon so we'd have an easier time of negotiating with them."

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