At first uncertain whether these creatures are indeed real, T'sorkel hesitates, then unleashes a bit magic power toward one after the reactions of others in the room bring him back to reality.
John manages to flip his table, blocking the path for the rending geese.
Beauregard is momentarily dazzled by the flash.
Two of the geese attack, one at T'sorkel, and one at Yariel.
1. T'Sorkel
2. John Rawlins
3. Purple
4. Black
5. Dr. Flint-Bridge
6. Yariel -4
7. Red
8. Green
9. Blue
10. Beauregard
11. Rar'gul
12. Orange
Bold may act.
"Daingead!" Caught unawares by the blinding flash, Doc instinctively drops down from the chair, putting the table between her small form and... whatever is happening. As she blinks fiercely, the halfling sees more shapes in the room than there were a moment ago.
What did Benjam say was in that bleedin' box? Rending geese?
"T'Sorkel! NO! The rending geese will kill you!"
This ain't me flippin' job.
Flint-Bridge darts to the nearest door, finding herself in the galley. Turning to the humanoid blur that is presumably Song, she snaps, "One of the passengers has unleashed a flock of rending geese. I do implore you to get that security officer down here expeditiously, or you'll be short a paying customer - or three!" To punctuate her words, Doc draws a slim firearm from somewhere within her coat, watching the galley door with trepidation.
An android in a chef's hat is already on his comm device when you walk in. He has armed himself with a heavy skillet.
"I don't know where Iom is. You may have to hold them off until she gets down here!
One of the rending geese follows Dr. Flint-Bridge into the galley. It's tentative, though obviously aggressive. It continues to make it's signature barking/hissing sound, and appears ready to attack any moment.
Two other rending geese snap their jaws and attempt to bite Rar'gul
1. T'Sorkel
2. John Rawlins
3. Purple
4. Black
5. Dr. Flint-Bridge
6. Yariel -4
7. Red
8. Green
9. Blue
10. Beauregard -7
11. Rar'gul
12. Orange
Bold may act.
His tour of the ship's facilities complete, Rar'gul heads to the dining hall. The trox is looking forward to a pleasant evening socialising and enjoying fine food.
"Stttay backkk!" he shouts at the attacking creatures.
Still holding the metallic carry case, Rar'gul reaches out his other hand to try totouch the closest rending goose .
Rar'gul gains some measure of revenge on the rending geese as he reaches out with a blast of his power. Foul smelling corroding feathers cover a portion of the dining hall near him as one of the geese falls in a quivering heap.
[ooc]Corrected the damage. I had mistakenly assigned damage to Beauregard instead of Rar'gul.[ooc]
Round 1
1. T'Sorkel
2. John Rawlins
3. Purple
4. Black
5. Dr. Flint-Bridge
6. Yariel -4
7. Red
8. Green
9. Blue
10. Beauregard
11. Rar'gul -7
12. Orange
Bold may act.
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Yariel also attempts to figure out what the heck these critters are but when one takes a chomp at her she jumps back and starts tapping on her tablet. A spray of oily liquid jets out of a wrist nozzle and then with a snap of her fingers a spark ignites the fluid with a *WHOOSH*, scorching two of the birds.
Yariel (and Dr. Flint-Bridge before her) have ascertained some things about these creatures. Pygosian Rending Geese are semi-aquatic flightless birds from the planet pygosia. They prefer to eat meat, and are pack hunters. They are considered a delicacy on Pygosia.
Yariel manages to barbecue two of the geese with her flames.
Once again, the smell is nearly wretch-inducing as the birds smolder away.
Beauregard makes an impressive throw with his hatchet.
Quite impressive, in fact!
Hitting squarely between the eyes, his hatchet buries itself in the head of the goose near T'sorkel.
Kiiv is fetching a fire extinguisher.
Round 2
1. T'Sorkel
2. John Rawlins
3. Purple DEAD
4. Black DEAD
5. Dr. Flint-Bridge
6. Yariel -4
7. Red
8. Green
9. Blue DEAD
10. Beauregard
11. Rar'gul -7
12. Orange DEAD
Bold may act.
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John sees the geese taking big bites out of Yariel and Rar'gul. The ysoki had already toasted two and the trox looked more than capable of handling himself. He steps forward to help T'sorkel when a hachet ends that goose.
Another visual sweep around the room shows only one goose in reach and one disappearing into the kitchen on the halfling's heels. He breaks around the table and ,using his cane to hold the goose at bay, tries to get behind the one menacing Rar'gul.
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Yariel releases her held breath as the stench of cooked goose assails her nostrils, "Eww, I thought that would smell better!"
She glances around for the doctor and realizes where she went, "Don't worry doc, we're coming to help. Just take cover!" Darting around the table, she focuses carefully on the composition of the air, drawing all the oxygen from around it and concentrating it into a small pocket around the bird in the kitchen. With her trademark snap she quickly ignites it into a small blast of fire.
for
Whether it hits or not is another question.
T'sorkel spots one of the creatures trying to escape into the galley, and he tries to warn Song. Chef, watch out! He motions and an unattended plate flies towards the goose.
"I have heard," Doc remarks in a casual tone, "that these geese are an absolute delicacy on Pygosia." As she speaks, the halfling slowly moves next to the android, her gaze (and aim) never leaving the aggressive pack-fowl.
"In your professional opinion, Song - pan seared, or slow roasted?" With a sharp ca-CHINK of the spring-loaded action, Doc fires a dart at the dinner-to-be.
Doc sighs softly as the projectile flies wide of its target, shattering a mug on a shelf near the door. "Apologies."
T'sorkel manages to send a dinner plate directly into the goose, but can't quite take it down. Yariel attempts some sort of magic against the creature, but her flash of energy misses and strikes a cabinet behind the target.
Song listens intently as Doctor Flint-Bridge mentions that these geese are considered a delicacy on other near-space planets. He looks down at the heavy skillet he is holding, looks over at the rending geese, and steps forward and whacks the bird with all his might.
Song hits the goose squarely on the head, managing to finish it off.
He turns to Doc Flint. "Tonight, I'm learning how to butcher Pygosian Rending Geese."
Back in the dining hall, one very surly goose remains, and it nips at John as he tries to get in position.
The final goose dies to Beauregard's hatchet.
Song hits the goose squarely on the head, managing to finish it off.
He turns to Doc Flint. "Tonight, I'm learning how to butcher Pygosian Rending Geese."
Doc gives a small smile of approval. "I look forward to the fruits of your labors." Cocking her head, she listens to the ruckus in the adjacent room. "It seems to have quieted down out there - let's go see how many geese have been made available for your efforts."
Walking into the dining hall, Doc grimaces and wrinkles her nose. "It seems as though someone has already started cooking." Doc quietly retrieves a dart from somewhere in her jacket and reloads her pistol before making the slender firearm disappear.
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Yariel dashes in after the goose, just in time to see it brained by the chef. She skids to a stop, looks at the doc and the chef and blushes, "Uh... that was the last one. Sorry about the intrusion."
She wanders back out in a bit of a daze before noticing the carnage and turning her wrath towards the cause, "YOU IDIOT! BRINGING THOSE DANGEROUS ANIMALS ON A SHIP WITHOUT ANY THOUGHT OF SAFETY? MINDLESS FOOL!"
She narrows her beady eyes at the professor, "Why I oughta..." With a *humph* the hackle raised Ysoki turns on her heel, grabs her plate and clomps out of the galley back to her quarters. Plans of destroying the Professor's life darting through her head.
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John winces as the hatchet strikes the last goose, and then whacks the downed bird (?) with his cane. Turning, he surveys the room, and considers how closely the hatchet must have passed by his elbow.
I seem to have found myself amongst a deadly coterie.
"Well done, everyone. Are you all all right? I have a medkit in my room."
He walks a few steps back to his table and rights it. (Hopefully with Rar'gul's help.)
The Shirren looks relived when the last of the creatures is dealt with. Where did they come from? The cube? As much as I am happy to have a fresh meal, I find that disturbing.
He goes to retrieve the cube. Professor, where did you get this? The space folding aspects seem to be real. He inspect it for any inscriptions or markings.
Seconds after the battle with the geese ends, security chief Iom enters the dining hall, her sidearm in her hands. She yells "is everyone okay? Anyone injured? Where are the creatures? Any still alive?"
Kiiv, Song, and Professor Benjam explain what happened, satisfying Iom. You are all called out for efficiently and quickly dealing with the threat.
Iom makes her exit, but not before mentioning to Kiiv that "we'll need to clean this up, I'm sure Song will be serving dinner shortly"
Kiiv nods submissively and says something about getting some bins.
The android spots the dead rending geese, and their mouth
becomes a thin line. "What a mess. At least we have some fresh meat for tomorrow." Song chooses three of the cleanest kills, and decides that the rest must go, especially the burnt and acid singed geese. "I'm not even sure the goblins would eat those...."
“I don’t know who’s responsible for this, but someone
better get these birds outta here!” they say, gesturing
at Kiiv. “Throw them out the airlock, in
the incinerator, or whatever! I don’t care! Just get ’em
outta here!”
Kiiv looks sheepish. “Sure, Song. Just let me get those bins, or something.”
“Hurry! I’m supposed to
be serving supper in here.
No one wants to eat looking
at that!”
Kiiv slinks out of the room.
Once Iom and Song are finished directing Kiiv to clean up the mess, Professor Benjam sits down, dejected and devastated about what happened. "It was just a trinket! There wasn't supposed to be a way for these things to get out. I'm so sorry about this. Is everyone okay?"
Professor Benjam goes to his stateroom, and returns shortly with a Mark I healing serum for each of you.
Kiiv is also back momentarily with a few large plastic bins. Sheepishly, he asks you all if you would mind helping him take these down to the engineering deck. "I can't possibly get these all down there in one trip, and I figure we can get down to the incinerator and back in one trip if at least a few of you help out."
T'sorkel frowns as he notes the way the crew speak to Kiiv, understanding some of the dynamic that might leave him feeling isolated. Something to share with the First mate later, perhaps.
He turns back to the Professor, his academic curiosity taking over. There wasn't supposed to be anyway to get the items from inside out? Would they simply have existed there forever?
When Kiiv returns with the bins, T'sorkel volunteers to help. I can't carry much, but I'll help.
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After being ready to storm off, Yariel realizes she never got dinner. And... well the chef will have to come back out probably and maybe she'll actually be able to say hi this time.
She sits with a huff back in her seat until Kiiv asks for assistance. The Ysoki hops up, "Oooh, I'll help." And I might get to see something useful down there.
She grabs a poorly cooked bird around the neck and pulls it into a tipped over bin. Dragging it behind her the Ysoki clomps after Kiiv.
“I don’t know who’s responsible for this, but someone better get these birds outta here!” they say, gesturing at Kiiv. “Throw them out the airlock, in the incinerator, or whatever! I don’t care! Just get ’em outta here!”
Kiiv looks sheepish. “Sure, Song. Just let me get those bins, or something.”
“Hurry! I’m supposed to be serving supper in here. No one wants to eat looking at that!”
Kiiv slinks out of the room.
Mentally, Flint-Bridge raises an eyebrow at Song's caustic outburst, but externally her face remains neutral. "You seem to be very invested in the decorum of your dining hall." She keeps her tone light, hiding her probing questions of the android behind a veil of idle chit-chat. "I commend your dedication - how long have you served aboard the Chimera?"
Professor Benjam goes to his stateroom, and returns shortly with a Mark I healing serum for each of you.
Doc accepts the serum as if it were owed to her, giving the Professor a polite nod.
At first unnerved by your use of telepathy, Professor Benjam suddenly understands your question and answers you with normal speech. "Oh, I understand--you're speaking to me. I suppose the magic slows their metabolism somewhat. Honestly, part of me doubted they were real, at least until now...."
Song seems in a hurry to finish preparations for dinner. He tells you that this is his fourth season aboard The Chimera, and excuses himself back to the galley.
John takes advantage of the cook's departure to move to the chair beside the well-dressed halfling woman. He lays a hand on the crown of the shair's back and asks, "May I join you? I be John Rawlins, a mere cog in the machine of Abadarcorp."
"A mere cog in the machine? What a fantastically dull experience." She gestures to the chair, inviting the human to sit.
The woman slips a business card across the table. Simple and clean, it states, "Doctor Flint-Bridge | Private Practice".
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John smiles, but coldly, "A clear-eyed estimate of one's position be the only basis for decisions. And if one must err 'tis best to err on the worse side." He smiles more genuinely. "And a self-deprecating approach be more often welcomed than a self-aggrandizing."
He glances at the card, waves a hand over it to hoover it off the table. "Doctor Flint-Bridge? I be very pleased to make your acquaintance. " John pulls the chair out and slides into it. "I've been intrigued ever since I saw you in the diner. You have the air of one who's acheived success through hard work. Do you hold to the tenets of Abadar?"
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Beauregard comes back from his berth in time to hear about the need for people to move carcasas. He rolls his eyes, takes up another cigerette, and then moves over and throws a carcass over his massive shoulder and begins moving it without saying a word, though he does give a less-than-charitable grunt.
John smiles, but coldly, "A clear-eyed estimate of one's position be the only basis for decisions. And if one must err 'tis best to err on the worse side." He smiles more genuinely. "And a self-deprecating approach be more often welcomed than a self-aggrandizing."
"Self-deprecation is only self-deprecation if someone believes that you believe it; otherwise it is simply self-aggrandizement by another name." Despite the cutting content of her words, a slight smile flitting across the doctor's face betrays that she's more interested in banter than scoring points against the salesman.
He glances at the card, waves a hand over it to hoover it off the table. "Doctor Flint-Bridge? I be very pleased to make your acquaintance. " John pulls the chair out and slides into it. "I've been intrigued ever since I saw you in the diner. You have the air of one who's acheived success through hard work. Do you hold to the tenets of Abadar?"
"I hold to the tenants of cold, hard credits, if that's what you mean. And I never try to work harder then necessary - there's only so much of me to go around, after all." She studies John over the top of her glass as she takes a sip. "So what is a loyal servant of the Lord of Department Stores doing this far from home, pray tell?"
As the last of the render geese falls and the chaos in the dining hall subsides, Rar'gul hangs his head, mandibles twitching. Lowering a trembling hand, he rubs the palm against his thigh and across his shirt front as though removing something distasteful.
During the exchange between Iom, Kiiv and Song, Rar'gul resists the urge to step to the defense of the mechanic. Don't be hasty. Wait and see, he cautions himself.
He gratefully accepts the serum from the professor. "Thankkk you, prrroffessorrr," he rumbles, inclining his head.
Deep in thought, the trox grasps the metallic carry case tightly with both hands, knuckles turning white. John's return breaks him from his reverie and he helps the man to right the overturned table.
Rar'gul opens his mouth for a fresh attempt at conversing with John, but is stymied once more when the man moves tables to take up conversation with another passenger.
Left contemplating the palms of his broad hands, he eagerly jumps to assist Kiiv, when the maraquoi requests help in moving the bins. A bin under each arm, he follows the mechanic as he leads the way to the engineering deck. Maybe I'll get the chance to talk to him while we work, the trox thinks.
"Returning from a business trip, My boss was pleased with the results and stayed for a short vacation. I be returning to headquarters to write the report. Not very glamorous, but this voyage may be restful, and our fellow passengers certainly be interesting. "
"So you put in the hard work, and your boss reaps the rewards while you're shuffled off to write paperwork." Doc shoots John a wry glance from across the table. "Thank you for reminding me why I chose self-employment. Wouldn't you prefer to select your own work? To reap the full results of your effort? To operate without the burden of tithe or tax?"
Kiiv takes the lead and lays out three large plastic bins to place the expired geese in. He then leads you all to nearby lifts where you descend to the engineering deck.
While the main deck is both clean, well-lit, and pleasant, the engineering deck is much less so. There is an industrial smell here, and the bright, warm paint jobs from the main deck are replaced by metal gantries and darkly painted walls. Your feet make a "tink, tink, tink" sound as you walk toward the main reactor and the nearby incinerator.
Kiiv pops open the hatch to the incinerator feed and empties each plastic bin in, one by one. "Thanks so much for your help. I really appreciate it. I am going to record some of my daily reactor read outs before I head back up for some dinner. Just go down the hall, then left, and the lift will be dead ahead."
You begin making your way toward the lift when you hear voices ahead.
Security Chief Algiada and Trostinek, the vesk bounty
hunter, stand in the shadows to one side of the corridor,
having what seems to be an argument.
“It’s just too risky,” says Trostinek. “We should stick to
the plan.”
“If we follow the plan, it’ll go wrong. We’ll get nothing,”
Algiada retorts.
The argument seems ready to continue when Algiada Iom notices you. "Can I help you? There's really no reason for you all to be down here. I believe the chef is serving dinner in a few minutes. Can I take you up to the dining hall?"
Trostinek huffs off toward the passenger cabins above.
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Yariel pops to the front of the group and quickly counters, "We were asked to assist Kiiv in the disposal of those damn birds. On our way back when... oh I don't know... we walked in on ya's convo about some sort of risky plan. I'm no fool so don't try to deny it. But... I'm also a capitalist. So spill about what ya have going down and maybe we can smooth out the problems so nothing goes wrong."
And if it is something I don't agree with, tis better to know the details so I can muck up the works.
T'sorkel bows his head slightly, unused to confrontation and not thinking it their place to interfere with the crew. But what plan could she have with the bounty hunter? Could one of the passengers be his bounty? Maybe one of the crew? He glances at Yariel. The Android woman seemed very confrontational, though he wondered if her harsh upbringing has something to do with it.
As these thoughts run through his head, T'sorkel tries to catch the Akashic imprint of the security chief and the bounty hunter.
Algiada replies to Yariel: “Oh, we’ve done some security work together
in the past. I was trying to convince him to
upgrade that rickety robot he’s got stored in
the starboard cargo hold if he wants to land
some better jobs,” Algiada says and grins,
showing her sharp canines.
Kiiv takes the lead and lays out three large plastic bins to place the expired geese in. He then leads you all to nearby lifts where you descend to the engineering deck.
As the engineer's posse of goose-disposers heads toward the lift, Doc grabs her drink and motions to John. "Looks like it's time for a tour. It would be nice to take a quick walk before dinner."
Security Chief Algiada and Trostinek, the vesk bounty hunter, stand in the shadows to one side of the corridor, having what seems to be an argument. “It’s just too risky,” says Trostinek. “We should stick to the plan.”
“If we follow the plan, it’ll go wrong. We’ll get nothing,” Algiada retorts.
The argument seems ready to continue when Algiada Iom notices you. "Can I help you? There's really no reason for you all to be down here. I believe the chef is serving dinner in a few minutes. Can I take you up to the dining hall?"
Trostinek huffs off toward the passenger cabins above.
Upon sensing that she has intruded on a private conversation, Doc reflexively slips behind Rar'gul's meaty shin, allowing the other passengers to take the brunt of Iom's predictable ire. She says nothing during Yariel's inquiry, simply listening to the ryphorian's reaction.
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"So you put in the hard work, and your boss reaps the rewards while you're shuffled off to write paperwork." Doc shoots John a wry glance from across the table. "Thank you for reminding me why I chose self-employment. Wouldn't you prefer to select your own work? To reap the full results of your effort? To operate without the burden of tithe or tax?"
"It be not unfair. I be amply compensated. Sub-director Targus was the one who actually negotiated the contracts, and this be a great opportunity to learn. In a few years perhaps I will be a chief negotiator."
"As for choosing my own work, it sounds pleasant. But I was self employed for a while after schooling. -- I did not choose well, or profitably. Like commerce itself, taxes or tithes, help bind civilization together. One need not like to pay, but surely one recognizes the benefits of advanced society?"
As the engineer's posse of goose-disposers heads toward the lift, Doc grabs her drink and motions to John. "Looks like it's time for a tour. It would be nice to take a quick walk before dinner."
"Gladly, doctor." John rises and follows the party.
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Algiada replies to Yariel: “Oh, we’ve done some security work together in the past. I was trying to convince him to upgrade that rickety robot he’s got stored in the starboard cargo hold if he wants to land some better jobs,” Algiada says and grins, showing her sharp canines.
John merely notes the exchange between vesk and ryphorian, then the ysoki's interruption.
Here's one who looks for the main chance.
"Like commerce itself, taxes or tithes, help bind civilization together. One need not like to pay, but surely one recognizes the benefits of advanced society?"
As the group is escorted back to the dining hall, Doctor Flint-Bridge drops to the rear, resuming her conversation with John in a low voice. "Of course I recognize the benefits of advanced society - I am not so arrogant as that - but I also recognize that the mighty bonfires of Industry and Progress will burn regardless of how much of my own effort is thrown upon the flames."
After a moment's pause, she continues, "...and, it should be noted, the flames do not deign to bring warmth to every corner of the galaxy. Sometimes, you must light your own way, and it can require every scrap of fuel you can muster. Now, if you'll excuse me..."
The halfling woman takes her leave as they re-enter the dining hall, heading over to Isaac to procure another drink.
The shirren merely nods to the Security Chief, deciding not to make an issue of it. Their business. I am merely a passenger here. I have heard that ships like this can engage in illegal activity to boost their income. It must be hard to live this kind of life.
T'Sorkel returns to the dining hall to retrieve the twins. He had decided not to subject them to the dead animals. It wasn't as if they were sentient, but still, he didn't think it necessary. Content that they were alright in their case and able to observe the room, he follows the halfling to get a drink from the bar.
Well, that was exciting, wasn't it? His mental speech addressing both Doctor Flint-Bridge and Issac. What's available to drink? Do you have Castrovelian wine?
Following their guide, Rar'gul takes in the sights along the journey to the engineering deck. His feet make a noticeably different 'tunk, tunk, tunk' along their journey.
Disposing of the render geese remains, Rar'gul thanks Kiiv for the directions back to the dining hall and bids the mechanic farewell. "Nice bumping into you again. Maybe nexxt time we will get to speakkk prroperrly," he rumbles.
When the group interrupt the exchange between the bounty hunter and the security chief on the return journey, Rar'gul merely watches the ensuing interactions, leaving the conversation up to the others.
Nodding politely to Iom as he passes, Rar'gul accompanies the rest of the group back to the dining hall. I wonder what we're having for supper, he thinks, making his way into the dining room.