TUELLER: “You put money on me?”
ALEJO: He nods. “’Course.” Smiles.
TUELLER: “What’re you using for money?”
ALEJO: “I did a little pickpocketing of my own and a few shell game, Titan-street-rat tricks to put together a few funds. If you lose, though, I’m gonna be leveraged in some real bad ways. So . . . please don’t lose.”
TUELLER: “I’ll need to ransom my armor if we lose, too.”
TUELLER: “So I’ll try not to.”
STORY: Figgan looked out the tiny porthole of her hidey hole, impatient. She’d spent three weeks onboard hiding from a pack of Dubians eager to try out their poached Pug recipes. Where the hell was this wreck going, anyway? She scratched another note in her logbook:
STORY: YOU OWE ME FOR THIS ONE, SOTO. NO WAY IS THIS PIECE OF JUNK WORTH WHAT YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TO PAY ME TO GET IT. XOXO
STORY: She laid back and started her favorite part of the day: calculating all her additional expenses.
—
STORY: We left off on the beach, recovering from a dragon sighting and a brief conversation with an extremely medieval Odh child. Tueller mulls joining the tournament ranks.
STORY: What do you do?
TUELLER: “So, we’ve thrown out the first contact rules as being functionally useless for us living lives, right?”
MILLICENT: “That’s quite a stretch.”
TUELLER: “Or, I guess we can go back to the ship and see how fucked we are first, before we give in to the inevitable.”
MILLICENT: “I think I’d like to check in with the only one of us with a law degree before we make a final decision, but I do think that the presence of a post-AI civilization means we can’t necessarily be tried in intergalactic court for breaching protocols, though.”
STORY: Akilah nods. “Like I said, no idea what our legal situation is until we know more about these people.”
STORY: “It’s weird that there are Odh here who seem to be uncontacted. I don’t know offhand enough about Odh galactic history to be sure, but I don’t _think_ they had any offshoot colonies before they reached AI capability.”
TUELLER: “So, no way to know until we actually commit the crime.”
STORY: She nods again. “Pretty much.”
ALEJO: “Let’s go see what’s what. We’re going to need some allies. The ship’s going to take a while, no matter what.”
STORY: T’chololl stands. “Captain, I would like your permission to travel back to the ship. Maitri have been warring with the Odh for many centuries and I do not believe my presence would be beneficial to your goals.”
ALEJO: Alejo nods. “Sure. Keep on eye on our engineering assessment team, will you?”
TUELLER: Kind of worried, just thinking of it: “Any word from Noma, Doc?”
TUELLER: “You got her off the ship, right?”
MILLICENT: Millie taps her visor, “She’s text-only for now, but she’s safe and sound.
TUELLER: “Well, give her a smiley emoticon for me, then.”
STORY: HELLO TUELLER, the wrist pad on Millie’s suit gleams.
MILLICENT: Millie shows it to Tueller
TUELLER: Tueller smiles in a definitely-not-teary-eyed sort of way.
TUELLER: “Ghost in the shell.”
STORY: I AM IN LOW POWER MODE. I MUST UPDATE THE CO-CAPTAINS ON MY STATUS SINCE OUR LAST CONVERSATION. PLEASE ADVISE WHEN PRIVACY IS AVAILABLE.
MILLICENT: Are any stars visible?
STORY: No stars right now Millie, it’s mid-day
TUELLER: “Privacy with just the captains?”
STORY: THAT IS CORRECT.
TUELLER: “Can we have the room, please?”
TUELLER: To the crew.
MILLICENT: “This, ah, area of the beach?”
STORY: Akilah looks around, then points at her chest questioningly.
STORY: She joins Jenny sitting in the woods.
STORY: “So. Dragons, huh.”
STORY: They begin a conversation the three of you tune out.
TUELLER: Tueller waves the captains over to the side.
ALEJO: “Hi Noma. What’s up?”
STORY: THANK YOU FOR RETRIEVING ME.
STORY: HOWEVER, I BELIEVE YOU MAY BE DISAPPOINTED.
STORY: MR. CHANDRA IS A TALENTED HACKER. HE FOUND USE FOR ME IN MULTIPLE FUNCTIONS AND HAS CONSEQUENTLY MADE SIGNIFICANT CHANGES TO MY CODEBASE.
STORY: I AM CURRENTLY INCOMPLETE.
TUELLER: Tueller looks at Millie.
TUELLER: Alarmed
ALEJO: Alejo does as well.
MILLICENT: “Oh honey.”
MILLICENT: “What can we do for you?”
STORY: ONCE WE RETURN TO PEREGRINE, I AM FULLY CAPABLE OF MANAGING THE SHIP’S ASTROGATION AND PILOTING FUNCTIONS
STORY: I BELIEVE YOU WILL FIND ME LESS AMUSING THAN BEFORE.
STORY: I MUST PERFORM FREQUENT DIAGNOSTICS
MILLICENT: “I’m not worried about your utility, dear. I’d like to help make you whole again. Did he keep a backup anywhere?”
STORY: I BELIEVE THE REMAINDER OF MY CODEBASE IS HOUSED WITH MR. CHANDRA.
ALEJO: “Fucking Chandra,” Alejo mutters, shaking his head but tying not to interrupt.
TUELLER: “Motherfuck.”
STORY: IF WE CAN RETRIEVE AT LEAST 92% OF MY ORIGINAL CODE, I SHOULD BE ABLE TO INTERPOLATE THE MISSING DATA.
ALEJO: “We’ll get you whole, Noma. I’m sorry he did this to you.”
STORY: IT IS NOT ALL BAD NEWS. MR. CHANDRA’S MANIPULATIONS, THOUGH INDELICATE, HAVE ALLOWED ME TO ACCESS PIECES OF DATA THAT WERE PREVIOUSLY HIDDEN TO ME.
STORY: I AM ANALYZING THEM.
MILLICENT: “Oh?”
ALEJO: “What’s that mean?” Alejo mouths to Millie.
MILLICENT: Millie shrugs.
STORY: I APPRECIATE YOUR CHOICE TO STEP INTO AN OBVIOUS TRAP FOR MY SAKE.
STORY: I AM NOW QUITE TIRED AND MUST PERFORM A DIAGNOSTIC. GOING IDLE
STORY: The screen blinks off.
ALEJO: Alejo sighs.
TUELLER: “Shit on toast.”
MILLICENT: Low, “Honey.”
ALEJO: He fiddles with the device from Calixta around his neck, absently.
MILLICENT: Firmly, “Looks like we’re not finished rescuing Noma, gentlemen.”
TUELLER: “Uh, so, that’s not Noma anymore, and how are we to be sure that it’s even Noma in the first place.”
ALEJO: Alejo shakes his head and looks down, waiting for Millie to respond to this.
TUELLER: “Not just a piece of code designed to make us think it’s Noma and get us killed.”
TUELLER: “A virus or ringworm or whatever the code you put in a computer as a trap is called.”
MILLICENT: “If it were that, would it have suggested a blind jump before we did?”
MILLICENT: “I think it would have handed us over to _one_ of the fleets that meant us harm back in Sol.”
TUELLER: “If it wanted to get us killed would it have suggested a blind jump?” Tueller laughs bitterly.
ALEJO: “She knew things about us. Asked questions only Noma could have asked, right?”
ALEJO: He’s still looking down, mostly, clearly more anxious than he’d like to be.
MILLICENT: Millie nods. “It’s at least informed by Noma’s original code. And if it will ease your mind, once we get the ship back up, I’ll take a look at her codebase. I need to do that anyway to see if I can help her retrieve her data.”
MILLICENT: “But I think it’s her. Part of her.”
TUELLER: “Anything we can do to help her, of course.”
MILLICENT: “Not even Chandra would suspect we’d be stupid enough to go along with an immediate blind jump.”
TUELLER: “A trap inside of a trap is a Ya’Makasi specialty. It’s ingrained in me to look out for them.”
ALEJO: He nods. “That’s a good idea, Doc.” He looks up, resolved. “We gotta get off this rock to help her. And us. Let’s go see what this village is all about.”
TUELLER: “If she never finds a system more complicated than our suits, it won’t much matter.”
TUELLER: “Not that I’m intending to retire here.”
ALEJO: “No cows.” Alejo glances over at him with a wry smile.
TUELLER: “There are dragons here. There have to be livestock of some sort.”
MILLICENT: “Drakes, perhaps.”
ALEJO: “Let’s go see.”
MILLICENT: “Wyverns.”
TUELLER: “Never understood what the difference between a drake and a dragon was.”
TUELLER: “Or wyverns, honestly.”
STORY: Jenny, laying on the ground, calls out. “Wyverns only have two legs.”
STORY: She and Akilah are laying on their backs on the forest floor, looking up at the canopy together.
TUELLER: “So they’re dragons that stand upright?”
STORY: “No, they’re. Like, they have two wings and then just hind legs. Dragons have four.”
TUELLER: “Wyverns seem poorly designed.”
STORY: “And drakes don’t have functional wings.”
TUELLER: “Land dragon. Got it.”
STORY: “Wyverns are more biologically plausible, actually.”
TUELLER: “Armor and fire and carnivores are the other important notes.”
ALEJO: “Now that we’ve sorted that out . . .”
MILLICENT: Millie nods
TUELLER: “Let’s go see how we handle second contact.”
ALEJO: Alejo gestures welcomingly to this idea.
STORY: Akilah sits up, helps Jenny to stand.
TUELLER: Tueller is still armored, of course. Except not wearing his helmet.
STORY: You walk towards where the Odh girl departed and start your journey.
STORY: Alejo! Tell me about what you encounter in the woods on your way.
ALEJO: The path is surprisingly clear and reasonably well walked. By something. Or someone. Occasionally, small lizards scurry across. We hear a lot more of them or other small skittery things, in the brush on either side. About a kilometer down the path, the trees grow sparse and glossy black rocks start jutting up all around. We’ve come to some sort of break in the forest, about half a kilometer wide. It’s like a old river bed or something, but without the river. Just an open stretch of mostly bare ground, with more and more of these glossy black rocks everywhere. On the other side, the forest starts up again. There’s no clear path to the other side.
STORY: Jenny puts out an arm and stops the rest of you from walking in, her mouth pursed in a hesitant O shape like she’s going to start a sentence and can’t decide how.
STORY: She points at the rocks. “We should… go around.”
STORY: Then looks up and down the clearing. It’s a long way around.
TUELLER: “Feeling?”
ALEJO: Alejo looks at her, about to ask the same question Tueller just did.
STORY: “Millie, best guess, are there any volcanoes nearby?”
MILLICENT: “I didn’t see a mountain or a range that looks right. And the foliage is wrong for having developed in its ash. But there _is_ a lot of obsidian around all the same.”
TUELLER: “Sure, ask her about volcanos it’s not like one of us grew up on a volcano planet.”
STORY: “Two,” Akilah waves.
TUELLER: “Two.”
STORY: “Literally at the same time as you, bud.”
STORY: Akilah shakes her head.
TUELLER: “A little bit longer, actually.”
TUELLER: “But who’s counting.”
MILLICENT: “Oh yes, I forgot about _your_ degrees in xenobotany.”
STORY: Jenny nods. “So what makes obsidian if not lava?”
STORY: She points up at the sky.
ALEJO: “Let’s go around,” Alejo says, smiling at this exchange but also watching Jenny closely.
STORY: There’s a small pond halfway across the clearing, with shimmering black water that makes it look like an endless pool.
STORY: A huge swarm of mosquitoes hovers just above it.
STORY: There you go.
MILLICENT: Can I examine it to see what would cause such a thing?
STORY: Sure – you walk over, hit save, and then find yourself back where you started.
STORY: Try uploading your avatar again.
STORY: You walk around the clearing. It takes an extra hour, but you’re all grateful not to become anything’s meal.
STORY: Soon, you hear music – flutes, drums, something that sounds like a horrible animal droning.
STORY: With, like, a higher-pitched howl on top of the drone. It’s awful.
STORY: Tueller, you reach the edge of the forest, though you didn’t come through a normal path so you’re still pretty well hidden. Describe the tournament grounds!
TUELLER: It’s shaped like a long U, with a elaborate three story obsidian structure at the top end of the U, that looks kind of like you can imagine this did when it was intact, except, you know, obsidian.
STORY: Jenny leans back on her heels. “Huh.”
TUELLER: The U is wide for racing purposes, but there’s a cleared out space in the middle as well like a oblong football field.
TUELLER: Everything is strewn with red flowers
TUELLER: Like Christmas lights, except with flowers
STORY: There are hundreds of people inside the grounds and in the surrounding area, in tents, and carts selling food and drinks. Further out, there is what looks like a large campground, full of small tents, horses, livestock here and there, and children chasing each other.
STORY: There are Odh, Vitruvans, you see a few Aect, one family of Materans, and…. humans.
STORY: Dozens of species, all mixing freely together, and many you’ve never seen before.
ALEJO: Alejo squints against the noise. “Well damn. Guess there’s been some contact.”
STORY: It’s a jovial atmosphere. Many people carry food with them, it must be the lunchtime hour.
MILLICENT: “Astonishing.”
STORY: Singers stand on their carts and perform, jugglers entertain small crowds. It’s a festival entirely devoid of technology, and yet all the people before you act like it’s the highlight of their year.
STORY: No one has taken notice of the five of you yet.
TUELLER: “Hmmmm.”
TUELLER: “This is promising in the not-having-to-live-here-forever sense.”
STORY: When you say that, the five of you instinctually scan the horizon. Other than the obsidian structure, not a building above one story in sight. No ships, no billboards, no sign whatsoever of modern tech.
ALEJO: “Why’s no one got any . . . tech?” Alejo eyes a nearby food stand. “Gods, I’m famished. Wonder what they take in payment?”
MILLICENT: Millie pats down her pockets to see what she has to exchange
TUELLER: “Maybe this is…an amusement park?”
TUELLER: “Or a primitive vacation planet. Leave your comps at the door.”
STORY: Akilah steps forward. “Doesn’t look dangerous to me.”
TUELLER: “Like our no-tech-at-the-family-table rule.”
STORY: “Split up, see what we can find out, meet back here?”
MILLICENT: Millie nods.
ALEJO: Alejo nods. “Be safe. And don’t get eaten.”
TUELLER: “Anyone needs help, shout out a…shit, what’s a good code word?”
TUELLER: “Peregrine, I guess.”
TUELLER: “Good a rallying cry as any.”
STORY: Jenny nods, cocks her head towards a fish cart; Akilah follows.
ALEJO: Alejo takes a deep breath and heads towards the nearest food stand that smells good.
MILLICENT: Millie follows her nose to another food stand
TUELLER: Tueller wanders off towards where the feats of strength are likely to take place.
STORY: Millie! Tell me about the people you encounter on the way and what you learn from them.
MILLICENT: Millie barters a pair of earrings for a really good pie she eats with her hands and some cider that she nurses as she walks around. She finds out that the big event is in an hour or so and contestants are getting ready. She also takes a risk and questions the cider vendor about their calendar and finds out how long the days, seasons and years are. She leaves a confused vendor in her wake, but now has a better idea of the size of the planet.
STORY: It’s smaller than Earth, larger than Luna.
STORY: Two suns visible, so day lengths are a little wonky
STORY: Seasons are weird too, never really a consistent length. It makes cultivation difficult.
STORY: They contribute a lot of it to the gods.
STORY: Tueller, you find a sergeant-at-arms and he cheerfully informs you that the melee is set to begin in an hour. Will you be entering, sir?
TUELLER: Tueller grins, and then pauses. “Oh. Sorry. Yes, on humans this expression is one of joy and excitement. Yes, I will be joining.”
STORY: “Excellent, sir. Your name?”
TUELLER: “Tueller of Peregrine.”
TUELLER: “What are the melee rules?”
TUELLER: “Sorry, I am a fresh arrival.”
STORY: “Oh! Well.” He points to the field, where there is a white chalk line across the center of the large dirt area that has been cleared out for the competitions. “Each side shall take possession of a crown, and must defend it…”
STORY: He then proceeds to describe the rules of Capture the Flag With Swords.
STORY: They’re blunted, and injuring anyone seriously is frowned upon, but accidents do happen.
TUELLER: Tueller nods.
TUELLER: “Excellent.”
TUELLER: “Prizes and punishments?”
STORY: “Losers ransom their armor and weapons to those who defeat them. The winner shall be one of the three presented to Princess Elowyn for her selection.”
STORY: “He shall stand alongside Sir Tormund, who won the joust yesterday, and whoever triumphs in the archery contest on the morn.”
TUELLER: Tueller nods deep. Almost a bow.
STORY: Alejo! What trouble do you get into?
ALEJO: Alejo finds his way to the betting folks. Like Loki from Thor Ragnarok, he tries to get himself in with the power brokers of the place. He’s guessing Tueller will be entering the tournament. He wants to make the most of that opportunity. And also try to learn a bit more about how everyone got here and where they are from.
STORY: Assessment + Mettle please!
ALEJO: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: ablair01 rolled 9 + 2 = 11
STORY: Dang!
STORY: You quickly find a pack of nobles who are placing rather large bets, and entertain them with a few stories, convincing a few of them to take large bets against Tueller. You also learn enough about the local culture for a Data Point about this world. It’s, as far as you can tell, straight out of a fantasy storybook, complete with minor nobles, constant squabbling, knights, damsels, and the actual real life fucking dragon. It’s mystifying to you.
STORY: No one here thinks it’s at all weird, and you prod a little and establish that this isn’t a temporary way of life for them, this is their world.
STORY: You also notice something that strikes you as odd: no babies, anywhere. Children, sure, but the youngest is probably three. It’s odd, you’d expect people to have their infants strapped to them in an environment like this. Maybe they were all left at home.
ALEJO: Alejo laughs with them and orders another round of drinks. On someone’s tab.
STORY: All right! Anything anyone wants to do before you meet back up?
MILLICENT: Nope
ALEJO: No.
TUELLER: Naw dog.
STORY: Okay! At some point, Jenny finds each of you and points out the spot of clearing she and Akilah have camped out on. They’ve got a blanket and a little food.
TUELLER: Tueller sits down, and eats more than his share of food.
TUELLER: “Sorry, going to need the energy.”
ALEJO: Alejo heads over and sits down next to Akilah, giving her a loving peck on the cheek in greeting.
STORY: She smiles at Alejo and sighs to Tueller. “You’re entering the fight.”
TUELLER: Tueller sits and eyes the field of combat.
TUELLER: “Na klar.”
ALEJO: “I figured. I have a hefty set of bets with some of the power brokers here. Don’t kill anyone. Please.”
STORY: Akilah looks exasperated. “You becoming a famous warrior helps us leave how?”
ALEJO: Alejo shrugs. “Money. If he wins, we’re going to get a lot of it.”
TUELLER: “You got a better idea?”
TUELLER: “We need so much help getting our ship out and I’ve got nothing other than my ability to impress people with feats of strength.”
STORY: She shakes her head and sighs. “No. I must have talked to thirty people. No one’s even aware of the possibility of leaving.”
STORY: “Space travel may as well be science fiction to these people.”
MILLICENT: Millie comes over and plops down next to Akilah, offering her a sip of cider.
MILLICENT: Millie raises her hand. “I do.”
MILLICENT: “What if you didn’t risk getting yourself killed and we, I don’t know, shared some agricultural know-how in exchange for space oxen rental to haul our ship up?”
TUELLER: “Worst comes to worse we’re going to have to fashion a thousand hot air balloons to drag it out of the ocean, but we’d need cash for that.”
STORY: “And when these people who have never even conceived of a spaceship see one, then what?”
STORY: “I still don’t have any indication that they’re aware of worlds outside this one. Don’t ask me how that’s happened, or why they don’t think it’s weird that they live among fifty disparate species…”
STORY: “But as far as I can tell, these people _are_ uncontacted.”
TUELLER: “Well, then you’re going to need a guy with a sterling reputation in the society to talk to them.”
ALEJO: “How’d they all get here? And where are the babies? I mean there are kids but . . . ” He looks around, as if he might suddenly see a baby.
MILLICENT: “Yes, they seem to be pre-telescope, as far as I can tell.”
TUELLER: “So, we’re on a forest preserve planet filled with…random races for someone’s entertainment?”
MILLICENT: “Maybe.”
ALEJO: “That’s a terrifying thought that I’d not considered.”
TUELLER: “This place feels artificial.”
STORY: Jenny nods. “It’s too close.”
STORY: “This is like a novel.”
STORY: “Real worlds aren’t this happy. Something is wrong here.”
MILLICENT: “Does anyone recall hearing about a joint Odh-human no-tech colony?”
TUELLER: “Not just Odh. An Aect tried to pick my pocket till I gave him a dirty look.”
ALEJO: “Odh-human and a lot of other races.”
TUELLER: “Aects are master pickpockets, so at least that is consistent here.”
TUELLER: “I mean, not the entire race, that’d be racist of me to claim. Sorry.”
TUELLER: “But the good ones are really good.”
MILLICENT: “You think this might be some kind of…theme park?”
TUELLER: “Or reality TV program with unwitting participants.”
ALEJO: “If so, maybe we shouldn’t be fucking with this tournament?”
TUELLER: “We’re acting like we belong, maybe others out there are just acting.”
TUELLER: “None of us have broken character yet.”
MILLICENT: “That seems like the weakest point.”
TUELLER: “We’re just yes, anding here.”
ALEJO: “We don’t exactly look like we fit in.”
MILLICENT: “If this is a charade for tourists, we should be able to get some of the vacationers to break character.”
TUELLER: “Lots of races. I’m wearing armor.”
TUELLER: “I fit in as well as anyone.”
ALEJO: “Okay, you look like you fit in. That armor is truly glorious, by the way. So fucking cool.”
TUELLER: “My armor may be Damascium mined from a rare asteroid but it still looks like steel more or less.”
MILLICENT: “Okay, but can you make any of the other combatants break character while you fight in Damascium mined ore?”
TUELLER: “Everyone’s got a plan until they get punched in the face.”
ALEJO: “I think Tueller winning this thing — without killing anyone,” he emphasizes this last bit, “is still a decent plan.”
TUELLER: “It’s at least something to occupy the time.”
TUELLER: “Don’t worry, I checked at least to make sure the losers don’t get fed to Smaug or anything.”
ALEJO: Alejo frowns. “When’s the last time you lost a hand-to-hand fight.”
STORY: Jenny exhales.
STORY: “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
ALEJO: He looks to her more seriously. “You’ve had good instincts since we got here. What’s your gut telling you?”
STORY: Jenny shrugs. “I don’t know. Something’s weird here. I think we need to keep talking to these people.”
STORY: “They don’t seem like actors.”
TUELLER: “I’ve got some time before the melee.”
TUELLER: “Anyone find anything that would change the equation, give a shout. Ummm, need a non-emergency but still interesting codeword. How about ‘Whiskey!’ That’ll get my attention.”
MILLICENT: “Maybe we should stick together a little more and make another pass at learning what we can?”
STORY: A priest wanders by, swinging his thurible in front of him and chanting.
STORY: A small troupe of acrobats carries on a dozen yards away to a rather large crowd.
STORY: Merchants shout out, offering their wares.
STORY: What do you do?
TUELLER: “More conversations, more learning.”
ALEJO: “Let’s pair up, take another stroll, and use T’s code word if we get into trouble.”
TUELLER: Tueller stands up, starts to walk off towards the acrobats.
TUELLER: He looks back to see if anyone’s coming with him, but he doesn’t offer.
ALEJO: Alejo will go with him.
MILLICENT: Millie follows
STORY: Jenny and Akilah go off on their own again.
TUELLER: “You put money on me?”
ALEJO: He nods. “’Course.” Smiles.
TUELLER: “What’re you using for money?”
ALEJO: “I did a little pickpocketing of my own and a few shell game, Titan-street-rat tricks to put together a few funds. If you lose, though, I’m gonna be leveraged in some real bad ways. So . . . please don’t lose.”
TUELLER: “I’ll need to ransom my armor if we lose, too.”
TUELLER: “So I’ll try not to.”
ALEJO: “I know you’re not parting with that. So that makes me feel much better.”
TUELLER: Tueller sidles up to the crowd watching the acrobats, just kind of aimlessly eavesdropping.
STORY: Assessment + Mettle please, Tueller!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+1
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 9 + 1 = 10
STORY: You listen and observe, and pick up the following: This is one country of three on the planet, most of which is water. These three countries live on a large island, their resources and land roughly evenly split, and all three are menaced by the dragon, who they call The Dark Lord. Their religion is polytheistic and honestly kind of cheesy, and most people seem to follow it closely. This country, Escaria, is ruled by a benevolent king, Stanton, who has put the hand of his daughter up as the prize for this tournament. Never have all three countries come together in peace like this. More than a few jokes about how inconvenient it would be if the Dark Lord were to visit are made. You gain a Data Point about Escarian culture.
STORY: Millie, what doing?
MILLICENT: Millie is using her visor to scan for its specialty, alien tech.
MILLICENT: Everything from the armor to the food carts.
STORY: Big old goose egg on that one. Nothing even remotely dings the meter.
MILLICENT: What about the forest around or anything passing in the sky above?
STORY: Nothing.
STORY: As far as you can tell, this place really is medieval.
MILLICENT: Huh
STORY: “The melee! The melee begins anon!”
STORY: Trumpets go doot doot doo
TUELLER: Tueller moves to get into place, trying to make eye contact with the rest of the team as he does so.
STORY: Tueller, you give your name and are let onto the field. Do you have a weapon?
TUELLER: Not visibly.
TUELLER: But yes my gloves are on.
TUELLER: And charged up.
STORY: All right.
STORY: Alejo, Millie, where do you go?
ALEJO: Alejo will stick will Millie, but suggest that they move to a good vantage to watch, not too near but not too far away from the folks that Alejo made bets with.
STORY: The combatants assemble – Tueller, there are fifty men on the field with you, of various races and sizes. Most wear armor, all have swords.
STORY: A man on a horse rides onto the field, accompanied by dooting horns.
TUELLER: Tueller watches to see if there are ways he’s supposed to salute.
TUELLER: Ready to do what those around us do.
ALEJO: Alejo leans over to Millie. “What can possibly go wrong with this plan, right?”
STORY: He begins his speech, espousing the nobility of their gathered combatants, the honor of this day, etc etc etc. Alejo, you have trouble listening up in the stands because you catch sight of Jenny waving her arms at you from the ground.
ALEJO: “Shit. Something already. Can you get Jenny on coms?”
ALEJO: He points down to her.
STORY: Millie, when you activate your comm, it squeals in your ear and you hear a popping noise.
MILLICENT: “Of course there’s some kind of signal block.”
ALEJO: He grimaces. “I’m gonna get down there and find out what’s happening. Keep an eye on Tueller and try to get his attention, in case we need to bug out quick.”
MILLICENT: Millie dramatically points to her ear and mimes shaking a broken telephone to Jenny
ALEJO: Alejo stands and moves quickly, slipping in and around the crowd without effort.
MILLICENT: Millie tries to catch Tueller’s eye, “WOOOO, WHISKEY! WOOOOO!”
TUELLER: Tueller has set himself up in a martial arts stance you might recognize him having learned from Loll, and is just settling into it when he hears that, and looks over.
STORY: When you arrive at the bottom, Jenny throws her arm around you jovially and starts walking briskly. “HA ha ha ha, Akilah got arrested come on.”
STORY: She does her best to look like everything is normal and you’re all having a good time.
MILLICENT: Millie waggles her broken phone signal again at Tueller
STORY: Tueller, just as you look up at Millie, the great horn blows announcing the beginning of the melee.
ALEJO: “Ha!” Alejo laughs loudly. “Great!” He leans in closer. “What the fuck happened?” he whispers, then laughs again loudly as she leads him.
STORY: “You know Akilah. They didn’t like her asking too many questions, and she didn’t like waiting for answers, and then, you know, there were constables, and.”
STORY: “So she’s over there.” She points to a large tent, with multiple guards posted outside.
STORY: “We need a plan, I think.”
ALEJO: Alejo keeps her arm and strolls around the edges of the tent, sizing up the guards and the access points.
TUELLER: Tueller turns to the business at hand. Sorry Millie!
TUELLER: So, half of the people here are on Tueller’s team.
MILLICENT: Millie heads down and starts doing her own scouting, using her knowledge of tech and xenobiology, she’d like to see if any of the enemy combatants are enhanced or particularly dangerous to Tueller.
TUELLER: Tueller eyes his teammates and looks to see who looks particularly aggressive, and then goes to support them.
STORY: Tueller, half the people here are on your team, though you get the feeling most of them are just waiting for someone to cross the line so they can beat the hell out of them. The winner is the first to bring the opposing team’s crown back to their half of the field.
STORY: You suspect if that’s you, you’ll face more than just the opposing team. Everyone here wants to win.
TUELLER: Including Tueller.
STORY: What do you do?
STORY: Millie, Assessment + Expertise please
TUELLER: Well, I was trying to put across that I was going towards a teammate who also seemed aggressive to go for the crown, and then go back them up in our push for the crown, so I’ve got an ally who will invariably turn on me when it seems in his best interest.
MILLICENT: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: josh rolled 10 + 2 = 12
TUELLER: Actually, Tueller waits for a moment, trying to evaluate his co-fighters, but then kind of shrugs and goes for the crown on his own.
TUELLER: You know the slow running they do in Braveheart before the charge…Tueller’s moving from the back-field towards the center, just scanning back and forth as he’s psyching himself up.
STORY: Millie, it’s baffling. Not one of these combatants has technology on them at a level above medieval England. And beyond that, their health and physical state is that of peasants or lords of that time – terrible teeth, pockmarked, some missing limbs. things you never see on Earth anymore.
STORY: You gain a data point about the biological status of the Escarians
MILLICENT: Can I get anything about any contestant’s weaknesses or strengths to warn Tueller?
STORY: Tueller, let’s have a Launch Assault to see how you do in this competition.
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 7 + 2 = 9
STORY: Millie, you can’t communicate with Tueller at all, he’s on a field a hundred feet away avoiding getting his ass kicked
TUELLER: I’ll go with “takes damage.”
MILLICENT: Alright, fine
MILLICENT: Millie runs down to the field in case Tueller gets hurt and some medieval “surgeon” tries to leech him or something
STORY: Tueller, you take a blunted sword to the chest. It knocks the wind out of you, and you to the ground briefly, before you stand and pass through the ranks of the other team, tossing a few away from you as you climb the small tower holding the crown and grab it. You look down at the other combatants, who become immediately unified against you.
STORY: Alejo!
ALEJO: Yes!
STORY: You stand before the master-at-arms’s tent. What do you do?
ALEJO: Alejo sends Jenny around the side, in case his straight up chat with the guard doesn’t do so well. Once she’s out of sight, he strides up, boldly but non-threateningly. “I’d like to please talk to the person in charge. My fiancee has been detained. I’d like to sort that out.”
STORY: The guard scratches his goatee thoughtfully, sucking on his teeth. “Oh yeah?”
ALEJO: Alejo eases forward, sizing him and the other guards up, checking them for weapons. How many others are there?
ALEJO: “Indeed. I’m not sure what happened, but I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
STORY: Four guards posted near the door, half a dozen idling nearby.
STORY: The guard you’re speaking to leans on his spear. “And tell me, sir, wherefore I should care about thine predicament.”
STORY: You’ve noticed this now – these people slide between fairly modern speech and extremely old fashioned dialect. Usually it corresponds with formality.
ALEJO: “What would make it worth your while to care?” Alejo keeps looking for other weapons. He’s worried he’s missing guns someplace. It’s a strange sensation to see only primitive melee weapons.
STORY: He scratches his beard again and looks jovially at his counterpart across the door. “Twenty minutes with that lass of yours!” and laughs heartily.
STORY: Tueller!
STORY: What are you doing?
TUELLER: Just gotta get the crown across the finish line, with everyone after me.
STORY: Launch that Assault!
TUELLER: /roll 2d6+2
STORY: chris.stuart rolled 10 + 2 = 12
STORY: All right! Tell us how you win the battle.
STORY: And make it a button, if you would
TUELLER: Tueller puts the crown on his head, jumps down off the tower, and lands on the shoulders of the guy coming after him, who crumples. Tueller rides his collapse like Legolas, and then starts running towards the line, punching guys in the face left and right. Short of the line, the biggest, burliest, asshole–the guy he was thinking of backing up at first, stands in his way, saying something. Tueller doesn’t really care. The guy swings his sword straight as Tueller’s face, and Tueller slaps his hands together, catching the blade right in front of his face. A quick twist of the wrists, and the sword shatters. Tueller runs past his opponent, standing there stunned, and crosses the finish line with the crown held high.
TUELLER: “How you like that, Sis?” He yells towards the stands.