"Ah, the market!" Balazar's eyes light up. "The bedrock of civilization, where the gears of economy turn. Let's go!"
Balazar chuckles. "Alas, AbadarCorp has AI interfaces, customized precisely to the user's preferences, through a complex and proprietary algorithm. My singular, though fine, face just wouldn't make the cut," he winks.
"Indeed. I, for example, cannot help but notice his lack of scales, short neck, and poor dentition when I look at Mr. Smythe here."
Xevras's delivery is so even it's difficult to tell if he's joking or not.
"Aww, thanks guys!" Balazar blushes.
With their accommodations sorted, the group departs the admin building and find themselves on a slightly raised walkway over what appears to be a long broken road. Thankfully, the bridge has been obviously repaired with several patches of materials clearly from the Pact Worlds as they cross over toward a large building sprawled out across from the spaceport terminal. From the look of it, it may have once been a hotel for guests to the port itself. The front doors are thrown open, with a few people milling around and making idle conversation. A few wave to the new arrivals as they make their way inside. What appears to have once been the massive lobby has been refitted into a rough approximation of a town square, with a large fountain in the middle providing purified water and several stalls created from the various desks around the edge of the room. Near the back, a new sign marked with a sloshing tankard hangs above the entrance to a large room, perhaps what was once the hotel's restaurant.
Xevras grins just slightly as he nods at the sign. "A symbol attested to even in pre-Gap records," he comments.
"Ah, at last!" Balazar sighs with a widening smile. He leads the way into the restaurant and sees what is on the menu.
The inside of the restaurant is perhaps the busiest place that the newly arrived crew has seen on Ikirit so far. A motley assortment of tables decorate the room with about half full of a mix of colonists. Most of them are dressed in simple, sturdy clothes that you'd expect on a workman of some sort, though the waiters are dressed a bit nicer. There seems to be a fairly even mix of shirren, humans, and verthani gathered around. A green shirren who you're pretty sure is a host approaches the group. "Welcome to the Honey Hive. Table for five?"
"Or given our disparate statures, perhaps two," Xevras suggests with his customary tight-lipped grin.
"Honey Hive? What's the story behind that?" Balazar asks as we get settled into our table(s).
"I think we have a couple tables for bigger crowds that might fit you..." the insectoid mutters to herself as she guides the group to the back. "Oh, the name? The owner's favorite drink is a sweet dwarven-style honey mead. Since he's a shirren too, he thought it was clever. Would you like to try it? It's the house special."
Xevras shakes his head slightly. "After a relative had an incident with some inebriated firebreathing, I have decided it is better to avoid intoxicants."
"I very much would!" Balazar agrees. "After weeks of the ship's bland fare, I'm craving something with flavor!"
To the group, he adds, "So, my new friends. After we break our fast on mead and whatever detectables are on offer, shall we get some rest and set out on our mission in the morning?"
The waitress laughs. "Oh trust me, I know. Until we got hydroponics going, ship rations were about all we had to eat around here. I think the entire first wave was sick of them within a week." She takes orders for the rest of the group's food and drink and heads back to the kitchen to get things in motion.
Xevras orders about how you would expect--large portions of whatever sorts of meat were available, though with only water to drink.
"It would be good to have somewhere to place my belongings, at least, before we set out. Beyond that, I would not be averse to beginning today, though... perhaps I should check the local time, first. It would be best to start getting accustomed to the daylight cycle here."
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"Been too long since I've had a proper pizza," Rokayla comments while they wait. "Last time I was at the Lorespire, one of the newer recruits wouldn't stop yammering about some cult of halflings running a conspiracy to infiltrate the Pact Worlds' pizza joints. Think he was working with one of my classmates from the Cosmonastery now that I think about it."
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"Sooooooo I have a question. Can I talk while you guys eat? Cause my boss had a rule that I wasn't allowed to talk while he ate cause he said it ruined his meal but I don't see how me talking could make food taste bad so I tried lookin' up why food would taste bad while talkin' and I found that you shouldn't talk while eatin' cause you could choke but I don't need to eat or breath so that must mean my boss will choke if I talk while he has his mouth full so I wanted to ask you guys before your food came cause I don't want you to choke!"
Flux nervously bounces in its seat and absentmindedly plays with some silverware as it talks.
"That's nonsense," Balazar laughs at Flux, still chewing on his pot sticker, then starts to choke. He coughs and coughs, turning a shade of red as he tries to take in air.
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Flux gasps loudly as it sees one of its friends start to choke. Jumping up onto the table, the little robot rushes to its friend.
"Don't worry, buddy, I got you!" Focusing its will, Flux glows briefly as a transparent mechanical claw appears in front of Balazar's face before slowly moving towards his open mouth.
Xevras tenses, but sees Flux trying to help, and so he chooses to wait until he sees the result.
"Gah!" Balazar balks as Flux tries to help. "I was just playing, see? All clear!" he waves the SRO off.
"Indeed, false alarms result in danger and death when they slow responses to real crises," Xevras growls. "I trust you will not do such things when we are in the ruins."
Balazar holds up his hands, looking chastened. "Just having a laugh on little buddy here. Rest assured, I'll be all serious and stern-looking when we get into the ruins."
"Okaaay," Balazar says, cutting the awkward tension with a toothy smile. "Now that we've eaten, I'm hitting a wall. All the fresh air and excitement has hit me all at once. I'm off to get some rest."
"Shall we set a meet up time for the morning? 0900? Maybe 10?"
With a meal a fair bit better than ship rations in their stomachs, the group decides to retire to their new apartment for the evening. When they arrive, they find it more or less as they expected, and the elevators even work to get them up to the upper floors without having to take a long flight of stairs. It seems that the work order at least got them some cots so they have a reasonably comfortable place to sleep and the warm evening air is actually rather refreshing through the open windows. The days on Ikirit aren't quite the same as Abasalom Standard and any early risers find themselves waking a bit before dawn. Of course, it also rises in the west rather than the east, making it slightly disorienting to realize.
Xevras takes advantage of his wings and flies up to the assigned floor, meeting the others in their rooms (and appreciating the work someone had done to bring a very large cot up for him).
In the morning, after going through his usual spell study, he gets into his armor. Fully encased in gleaming alloys, he presents an intimidating sight, and while his steps do not shake the ground, their dull thuds approximate the effect admirable.
"I am prepared to depart," he states matter-of-factly.
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Rokayla whistles when Xevras shows up.
"You REALLY know how to make an entrance, Xev!"
She's already in her armor as well, gun slung across her back and hooked blade at her side. She grabs her dark mote and it briefly takes the shape of a small rifle, before she releases it and it returns to its normal form.
"Ready!"
Balazar nods as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. "Alright, let's do this."
Xevras grins just a little. While he would never admit it, he *did* rather enjoy the effect he had on the smaller races at times.
"Let us depart, then."