IC - Warbirds, Guild Aces

[Hemnon]

The accolades. The cheering. The Pride of becoming Guild Pilots. All of it in a culmination of Rookie-Showoff by the guild to all of the Guild Keys, every new Rookie's name was the buzz of every newspaper throughout Azure. To stand there, waving and having your first experience in the public limelight was something of an experience to every single new Rookie Pilot - A taste of things to come, and a stark reminder that your life from now on would become a series of reporters, fans, contracts and hopefully leisurely enjoyment.

But, for now, it was time for that rumored Trial By Fire. You all knew this and you'd all already been assigned your Squadron and grouped into Various Flights (usually 4-6 Pilots are in a Flight) within those Squadrons.
You lucky 5 had ended up together on a banged up old tub of a Drop-Carrier, the Darling Doris, under the command of the Skipper Damien Blake. Well, the Darling Doris was under the Skipper's command, and he would technically answer to all of you in terms of where to go to reach various contracts - albeit with some leeway on his end in terms of not accepting suicidal orders - Hence why the pilots were to usually just stay in the Pilot Quarters, visit the bridge when needed (and it was clear that Damien thought this was NOT needed), or perhaps go to the Flight-Deck and Golf off for a while... adding more golf balls to the Murk below.
Ongoing joke amongst every Guild Pilot (rookie or not) was that at least 20% of the Murk was made up of golf balls by now.

So, where had you all been sent? Why down to the lower islands! your Trial By Fire was to be done as part of a contract to a Mayan Federation Kingdom who just happened to want a few good Guild Pilots to support their own Fighters during this little skirmish against a Neighboring Kingdom:
The Horado Kingdom is fighting the Royal Gabor Nation, and it's King Horado that happens to have hired you Five on for a 3 Week spanning Air Combat Patrol basis in order to protect a small scouting army camp against incoming fighter-groups intent on attacking that camp-site.
For those of you that cared enough to listen to the reason why the war had broken out, apparently a princess from the Horado Kingdom had been turned down for marriage by the Royal Gabor Nation's Crown Prince. Hence the war in order to have the victor decide on if the marriage goes through anyways, or if some others war-repairations payments should happen. But that had nothing to do with any of you - you merely had to go to that Camp-site after arrival to Yucatan.... well, after you've met your Employer and gone through the normal shinanigans on how the Mayan does internal wars: Parties! Sort of. You all had a chance to experience it yourselves once you arrive. Which'd be in about another 14-ish hours.
It's about 100 kilometers per layer to traverse, and it's done safely, thus to do all 200 kilometers to reach the lower Islands for the Upper ones (where the Guild Keys are located; aka. starting destination). Once down there, it'll be some navigational time to reach Yucatan, relay airspace-entrance permission over radio, etc. etc. Hence about 14 more hours at minimum before you're all back on solid ground, at the Horado Kingdom's Palace, ready to meet that King-Employer of yours.

For now, it's casual relaxation time for all of the pilots.... aka. you Five.
(here's some free Roleplaying time to spend as you wish. There's The Mess to go to if you wish to eat anything or play darts or pool or whatever else may strike your fancy, like looking out for the Ship Mascot.
There's the Bridge if you need to speak to the Skipper or whatnot.
There's The Drop Deck where all the Warbirds are stored.... and every pilot are welcome there cuz the Crewmates enjoys letting the pilots loose their money in some cardgame gambling and whatnot, or you could ask for an 'off the books' upgrade to your warbird by the crew... if it can be afforded.
Beyond that, there's of yours each of your own quarters where your stuff is, where you can pray in peace, have a romantic time with someone you know.... or just sleep, etc.
As for the rest of the ship, like the gunnery turrets, the crew mess, crew cabin area, the Floatstone Core of the ship, etc. etc.... well you won't be welcome there, and any pilots noticed skulking around such places are viewed quite suspiciously. Except the upper Flight Decks where one can enjoy the open air. It's where people go if they need some fresh air, and it's where pilots enjoy going to shoot off a few golf balls into the murk below, or do other playful shooting games, like clay pidgeon shooting and such.)

[sandmote]

Mendel, being insufficiency sporty to enjoy golf, is plopped down in the middle of the Pilot's Quarters The Mess to read.

[RandomLunatic]

Heading into a warzone, even a ritualized one, made Morgan decide to brush up on his marksmanship. He was on the flight deck, punching rounds through a roll of butcher paper borrowed from the mess.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy slaps her third losing hand down and glares at the smiling face of the engineer opposite as he sweeps up the pile of hex nuts and other makeshift pokerchips, "Trichez-vous putain? You cheating me, salaud? I find out and it's into the Murk with you! I play a little golf, vous putain savez?" Her loud grumbling by this point almost expected of her down here, the crew had discovered that she is both a poor winner and a sore loser, though knew by now that to her it was all in good spirits despite the colourful language. "I should quit while I'm ahead with you putain requins, go to mess and manger un morceau, go eat, non? Before you end up owning my précieux La Petite Mort." Sliding her remaining "chips" over to the side and cashing out.

[Tyrann]

"And you go.. there.. and.." From the pilot mess, an upbeat clarinet song (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M7HYVow1kHQ) starts echoing around the ship.

"Presto!" Olivia smiles contently at her freshly installed phonograph, then begins neatly filing her records in the closet underneath. "What do you think, Mendle? Sounds pretty nice, right? Considering the vibrations of the ship." Then smiles at and nods at her fellow medic's book. "What are you reading, by the way?"

[sandmote]

Mendle looks up and smiles. "Good tune," he notes, putting the books down, "its a catalog of Yucatan remedies, for dealing with colds, wounds, and the like. Not that I'd take it over a doctor's advice, but advancements have to come from somewhere and not everyone can afford the best." He gestures to the phonograph. "Do you play at all?"

[Arayl]

George is in the middle of a pool game when the faint notes of a song being played from a phonograph reach his ears causing him to scratch the felt and let one of the people he was playing against to take a go at sinking the 5-ball that he'd missed.

[Tyrann]

"Oh, I'm convinced that there is a lot more to plant medicine than we currently know." She nods in agreement.
"Plants can't outrun a predator, after all. So they have to have evolved some unique ways to keep from being eating all at once. Like altering the physiology of who- or whatever eats them.
You wouldn't want to affect yourself to the extremes some plants might go to for self defense. But only take a bit.."

She shrugs "And then some are probably just old wives' tales. Takes a keen mind to tell the difference." Then, with a smile, she adds, "And then a brave one to tell the old wives the difference. So I'm glad you're doing it.

And oh I wish." She runs a finger along a record sleeve to wipe off a spec of dust, before filing it along with the others. "But no, only the phonograph, I'm afraid. How about you?"

[sandmote]

"Never took to it much," Mendel admits. "Mostly ruined the tuning on the violin a few times."

[Bowerbird]

"Impressionnante! We got some music now? C'est beaucoup mieux comme ça! Nice job!" Eddy claps Olivia on the back as she wanders past into the mess, looking for something to eat, swaying a little to the music as she walks by.

Impressionnante! = Awesome!
C'est beaucoup mieux comme ça! = This is a little more like it!

[Tyrann]

"I'm glad you approve, Eddy!" Olivia smiles back. "Oh, incidentally, you have some mechanical skills, right? Have you attempted any custom modifications on your warbird yet? Since we have 14 hours anyway.."

Then turns to Mendle "My vice would be singing. And I'm quite good.. at getting people to tell me I'm horrible."

[Bowerbird]

"Oui, I tinker a bit with things. The principal problème being that we need pièces, er, parts for that, non?" She relaxes into one of the chairs, "The crew, I think they have the pièces, but they are not free. I try to beat them at cartes, a little poker? Putain requins, I win sometimes but they are very good so far." She rolls her shoulders and stretches, "Plus the 'Birds they are machines complexes, very advanced, I would not try without their aider, some help, non? One wrong step and badaboum! No more us."

[Tyrann]

"True, fair enough." Olivia shrugs. "Maybe after we get more parts, or better luck, we could give it a try."


Is there anything else we should be doing? If not I think Olivia will just go study medical books.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy shrugs, "Oui, or perhaps someone more beau parleur, a bit more of a talker than me, non? Still, one day..."

beau parleur = smooth talking

[sandmote]

Mendle chortles at the joke, "Part of the reason I wasn't taught to play any more."

As the conversation turns to mechanics, he's clearly a bit lost, returning to the book just long enough to mark his place.

[Hemnon]

Time will fly by when having fun. (this pun has been brought to you by a badly-punny Game Master).

As the hours tick by, and a lot of clay pidgeons gets shot into fractured bits by Morgan up on the upper flightdeck (thus adding other stuff to that golfball littered Murk below), and as the Drop-Carrier descends down through the Island Layers, you can all feel both a slight change in the air pressure (although only about the difference between being on the 20th floor in an LA Appartment building, and then slowly going down to ocean level) and more noticibly the weather temperatures.
The upper islands, as always, held tropically warm climates, where as as you went further and further downwards, the temperatures went more towards the Temperate, which is what both Tagesta and Yucatan had for a climate, being the bottom-hangers of all the known islands in all of Azure.

It's by now around an hour until arrival at Yucatan, and you can all see the island further beneath, if you were to look out from for example the upper Flight Deck, or the Bridge for that matter. Yucatan holds no tropical rainforest of course, that stuff had vanished in the early years after the Great Storm due to both the damages of the storm, but mostly it was due to the radical shift in climate, going from heavy tropical climate, to full on temperate. The main vegetation had rotted away or died off, and instead it now just holds more open area or temperate forests.

(Let me know where you all are, what you're doing there, if you're doing something very specific, etc. etc. As said, you're about an hour away and it's always a good idea to spend that hour preparing for going off-ship, since once the ship's reached harbor, you won't have time to dawdle around, especially since you have an image to live up to, both as Guild Pilots, but also as members of the Grey Falcons Squadron.)

[sandmote]

Mendle has checked his equipment more times than strictly necessary, and is finishing up some stretches to avoid health problems once he's strapped into the warbird for an extended period. Anyone pointing out it can't stay in the air for as long as he was reading gets told, "If I've already been sedentary that long I'd rather be safe than sorry."

[Tyrann]

Olivia goes to her room and spends the better part of the hour making herself look presentable for the party.

[RandomLunatic]

Seeing their destination draw near, Morgan headed down below to shower up and make himself presentable before landing, a process which included a full gallon of mustache wax.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy sits in a darkened corner of the Drop Deck, fully dressed for the mission, apart from the busy crews working on prepping the Warbirds for launch. Doing a decent job of appearing to be relaxed and ready for her first mission as a Warbird Pilot, spinning a wrench idly in one hand. Watching the crew working on her plane, she almost misses her catch when one of the crew stumbles in their work, but manages to pull it off. All the things that could go wrong playing through her head, the thought of having to potentially kill other pilots, the other squadron members relying on her to be part of the team. All these things play through her head now, like they always would before a race but more intense, so that she can safely leave them behind and operate in the moment.

"D'accord, être putain le meilleur, Eddy." She hisses to herself, suddenly snatching the wrench out of the air and levering herself to her feet, she meanders closer to where the crew are doing the final checks on her plane, her face having resumed her usual air of bravado, "Hey, putain de salauds! You take care of ma petite fille, oui? Ne m'oblige pas à te botter les putain fesses!"

"D'accord, être putain le meilleur, Eddy." = "Alright, be the ****ing best, Eddy."

"putain de salauds!" = swearing/insults.

"You take care of ma petite fille, oui? Ne m'oblige pas à te botter les putain fesses!" = You take care of my baby girl, yeah? Don't making me kick your ****ing asses!"

[Arayl]

George was on the upper Flight Decks watching as their destination got closer and closer, hoping to stave off any nervousness by straining his eyes to see what the land looked like and as more detail came into view he would try to memorize them in case he needed a landmark or two to navigate by.

[Hemnon]

You all arrive at The Horado Kingdom (it's main City of Inuctai) within the Mayan Federation, your Drop-Carrier gets moored up safely and it's time to disembark and meet both the Mayan populace as a whole, along with the nobility.
Being considered warriors, you'll all be received as honored guests and be seen as part of the Warrior Caste (which is a big deal, cuz only the nobility/priesthood is above the warrior caste). Add on top the fact you are outsiders, that means you'll be even treated with slightly more 'panache' and 'flair' than the regular Warrior Caste members does.

Down the boarding ramp from your Drop-Carrier, you can see the wider landscape up close, and it's rather a stark image - Since there's a lot of pre-storm mayan structures dotted around, with more modernized buildings meshed into the mixture. It's clear that the Mayans regard the remnants of their old civilization quite highly. It's even known that the great Pyramid of Chichen Itza is still around and is located in the Capital City of the same name (In the whole Mayan Federation).
All of it gives a feeling of Traditionalistic mindset meeting Pragmatic newthinking in a way that just seems to work very well.

There's of course no jungle or other such Tropical-foliage due to the big shift in the island's climate after the Great Storm.
So instead there's a lot of grassy landscape, Temperate-climate trees outside the city limits, etc. And there's around 20 big sinkholes throughout of Yucatan due to how porous the ground is on the Island.

It also seems like there's a minor festival going on, although what it's for is something none of you will have any idea of. You'd need a local to explain that. It might have something to do with some important event or something to do with the sun, moon or stars and their current position.... but that'd be about how much any of you'd be able to discern.
--------------------

Down the boarding ramp stands what looks like a collection of nobles, priests and what is most likely parts of the Royal Protector Guard of the Horado Royalty. King Impec Horado is amongst the procession.

Unless requested otherwise, your Guild Agent (Aduke Shaw) will remain on the Drop-Carrier since he is merely an administrative worker and thus below the Warrior Caste. If any of you wishes for him to come along, you'd have to convince the King to allow it.

[RandomLunatic]

Morgan blinked in surprise at seeing the king himself waiting for them at the bottom of the ramp. But it made more sense if you considered he was their employer too.

Not sure how much experience his flight mates had interacting with high society, and certain it was zero for at least some of them, he whispered, "Follow my lead and we'll make a smart first impression."

He minutely adjusted the collar of his guild pilot's jacket, squared his shoulders, and marched down the ramp. Stopping a couple pace short of the Mayan delegation, he bowed respectfully.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy pauses only a moment on seeing the royal welcome waiting at the bottom of the ramp, before her usual grin returns. "Je me prosterne face à votre grande expérience. Lead on." After a moments hesitation, she sketches a much sloppier bow, the motion plainly an unfamiliar one.

Je me prosterne face à votre grande expérience = I bow to your greater experience.

[sandmote]

Mendle seems slightly more nervous coming down the ramp, and doesn't bow particularly far. He waits for the king to speak.

[Arayl]

George is a little surprised to see that their group was being met by the king but quickly recovers and bows before anyone sees that he hadn't bowed to the king immediately.

[Hemnon]

The fact that you all showed proper decorum came as a rather welcomed surprise. At least to everyone else but the king himself who held a neutral expression (so it was more or less impossible to discern his reaction). His advisory staff however were all shocked and seemed to be observing you all with a deeper intensity... and has none of you said anything either, they began to whisper and comment on things in their native mayan Dialect (none of which got translated.
A young (Around 16 or 18) woman took a step forward, gave a light bow and said in perfectly smooth english "Greetings to you all, Warriors of the Guild. I am Piná Tecotl, His excellence's high priestess and main interpreter.". She kept her head bowed forward, not looking at any of you. Visually speaking, she was quite stunning. Youthful but with a sense of maturity not usually found among so youthful of people. Her long headdress covering most of her hair (which seemed ot have a dark, chestnutty brown color), her intensely green eyes drawing in one's gaze extremely easily.
Then the king himself spoke in measured Mayan, firstly towards his still-chattering advisors with a stern look, and then looked to each of you, arms held out wide, palms up. He made this gesture and spoke his words (which Piná translated as a Royal Greeting to visiting dignitaries, along with a deeper respectful physical gesture only given to those of the Warrior Caste).
In essence the king was greeting each of you in turn with arms wide open, both as representative members of the Guild, but also as HIS warriors, using only the words normally reserved to visiting neighboring Kingdoms' messengers, royal dignitaries, etc. He was clearly intent on showing you all that he meant business, and that proper etiquette is extremely important here.

The king then turned and gestured towards a series of Mayan-style Palanquins (to some they are known as a litter), with servants standing ready to lift and carry them. There were enough for every one of you, the king and the young high priestess as well. Each of them were open-topped and was more or less a comfortable seat that was carried around by servants.
It was clear he was intent on inviting each of you to his palace... it was also very clear that this was not an OFFER, but a Demand.
-----------------------

You're all welcome to speak now, since the etiquette and such had been upheld and done with. If you wish to ask the king anything, or question the high priestess herself, feel free to do so. She'll be translating whatever the choice is, in any case.
The advisory staff will be walking along behind the Palanquins.

If you do not wish to do anything at all, just sit back and enjoy the ride that'll take about 20-25 minutes.

[RandomLunatic]

Morgan blinked, a bit surprised, but knew better than the even think of refusing the offer. "His Majesty sure knows how to make his guests feel welcome," he said to the king with a smile and gesture towards the the litters. Seeing the path of least resistance to the royal booze stockpile, he he sat himself down in one and started a few stretches to warm up his waving hand. He could already see where this was going-the king was going to parade his newest warriors to the people.

[Tyrann]

Olivia observes quietly, preferring others to speak in her stead when possible as her knowledge of the local customs isn't the best. When prompted she takes a seat on her litter and follows along.

[sandmote]

Mendel focuses on looking dignified, commenting to the squadron's employers "thank you for having us."

[Hemnon]

Morgan blinked, a bit surprised, but knew better than the even think of refusing the offer. "His Majesty sure knows how to make his guests feel welcome," he said to the king with a smile and gesture towards the the litters. Seeing the path of least resistance to the royal booze stockpile, he he sat himself down in one and started a few stretches to warm up his waving hand. He could already see where this was going-the king was going to parade his newest warriors to the people.

Yes it was quite clear this was as much a show of respect to all of you, as well as a way to show his own grandeur and the fact he had a Flight of Guild Pilots under his command for a time. It is the most presigious Mercenary Company in all of Azure by a massive margin.

The king, Last-name Horado... cuz it's the Horado Kingdom, turned his head lightly in Morgan's direction to show he was listening, although it was his Translator Piná who spoke in Mayan to him and he then replied back to her so she could translate it back to Morgan.
"Oh yes indeed, honored guests like yourselves most be welcomed correctly and by the social rights you have both as visiting dignitaries of the Guild, as well as official members of his Highness' Warrior Caste. I guess it could be compared to not saluting a superior officer in other nations' militaries, or to not be respectful towards your parents and elders. We here in Yucatan takes ceremonies and such very serious because it's the foundation of our society and it's what helped ensure our survival when the Great Storm happened those 200 or so years ago." Piná said and smiled ingratiatingly at Morgan.
"Once we arrive and you've been shown inside his Highness' palace, you can see it up ahead on the hill right there-" She pointed ahead towards the very obviously-royal palace up ahead, maybe another 10 or 15 minutes of carry-time. "Once we've entered, there's no longer any need for staying to protocol. You've been shown the the courtsy required and that is your due, and there'll be less stiff-necked protocols to follow. Just be respectful and courteous just like you wish others to be towards yourselves. Also please do not try to enter any restricted area. They are restricted for a reason, be they a princess' private quarters, the Royal Armory, His Highness' Private library, etc. Don't worry, the guards will let you know if it's a restricted area. You will not be punished for entering some place. You will be stopped before it happens if it is restricted." She continued.
"I shall be staying with you all as translator should you require anything translated - Many people here does speak other languages than our native tongue, but not all. His Highness speaks both English, French, Old Haitian and even a little Dutch." Piná finished off and turned her attention back towards the king who spoke with her... although it didn't seem to be of anything pertinent for translation to the rest of you.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy remains uncharacteristically quiet, trying her best not to look too smugly at the whispering advisors getting chastised, and not entirely succeeding. On seeing the palanquins, her face runs through a quick series of emotions: surprise, disgust, acceptance, before finally arriving back home in smug again. Might as well enjoy the perks while you can get them. She flops into one of the chairs with less thought to protocol than is probably proper, and makes herself comfortable.

[RandomLunatic]

Morgan nodded in understanding and got in the palanquin without further comment.

[Hemnon]

A little while later....
-----------------------

With the arrival at the palace (quite the impressive building in fact, with a mix of original mayan architecture as well as more modern and contemporary feel to it), you are all lead straight from the carry wagons through the palace and right for the dining hall where all kinds of tasty treats, alcohols and platters of various foods are waiting at a buffet-style table by the far end of the dining hall. It was clear the center flooring had been cleared for one purpose - mingling and a chance to talk with both nobles, select warrior caste representatives (primarily group leaders or actual commissioned officers for the footsoldiers).

There's about 50 people already present and with how roomy the dining hall is, it's clear that another 20 or so people can easily be added without crowding issues.

The moment all of you enter - king, translator and You Lot following along, the room instantly goes quiet within barely 2 seconds of the doors having opened. A namecaller begins to call out the arrival of you all along with mentioning You Lot as Representatives of the Grey Falcons Squadron (since none of you really have a worthwhile name to state or a group leader to speak of.... yet. Hence the more standard 'what group are they from' introduction).

A lot of eyes are looking at all of you, most are nobles with a heavy curiousity to their gazes, some are from the priest caste and seem to be somewhat more judgemental with their looks. The Warrior Caste representatives present are more or less just trying to size you all up. All of them seem to have met or at least seen a guild pilot before, but still, no matter how non-popular a guild pilot is, the mere fact they have the flight jacket gives a certain level of rumour-value - Of the good kind mostly of course, since many a person see the guild as the next best thing to baked bread.
One of the Priesthood people seem to have a very sceptical look to his gaze, but that's about all the non-positive curiousity any of you can notice with a glance.
Piná informs you all, before she leaves you all to mingle, eat and otherwise get mixed up into the partying, that she'd leave you all here for now. She will be waiting outside since she is not on the invitation list and everyone should be speaking english inside anyways... or someone would most likely be kind enough to translate, if need be.
----------------------------------

If any of you wish to interact with anyone, feel free to do so. I haven't specified any people because I'll leave such things to be done if any of you wanna interact with anyone else.
Of course there's alcohol for those of you with a penchant for quality booze, foods of both familar and exotic design and origin, etc.

The king himself is also present but is in the middle of a discussion with what seems like an older, scarred military veteran - all of which is being spoken in the local mayan dialect.

[sandmote]

Mendel grabs a bit of food presented, and slowly makes his way around, making small talk with the other guests. The style is a bit more formal, but otherwise that of a minor guest in the Minor Principalities. "Hello, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am a new trainee of the Grey falcons. Hello..."

Lets see if I have this remembered correctly. I'm guessing Etiquette, which is Mendel's chosen Knack. I think this is mind, but spirit has the same score, as would publicity if I have the wrong skill. If not Etiquette, ignore the second roll (or ignore it if I have the way Knacks work remembered incorrectly).
[roll0] and [roll1].

[Hemnon]

Mendel grabs a bit of food presented, and slowly makes his way around, making small talk with the other guests. The style is a bit more formal, but otherwise that of a minor guest in the Minor Principalities. "Hello, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am a new trainee of the Grey falcons. Hello..."

Lets see if I have this remembered correctly. I'm guessing Etiquette, which is Mendel's chosen Knack. I think this is mind, but spirit has the same score, as would publicity if I have the wrong skill. If not Etiquette, ignore the second roll (or ignore it if I have the way Knacks work remembered incorrectly).
[roll0] and [roll1].


With a nicely successful scmoozing (difficulty would have been a 6, and the dice rolling was done correctly, Knacks roll two dice and picks preferred roll), the various people Mendel approaches seem very open and amenable.
The first person, a big fella of the fat-over-muscles variety holds a wide smile on his face, fingers smeared in cocktail sauce. "Why greetings to you as well. It's an equal pleasure for me! Oho, trainee you say - first mission for the Guild then!? I used to be a potential guild pilot myself you know, but duties here at home made such a dream impossible. The name is Lykat Hernandez, 4th seat noble of the Hernandez family. Quite the pleasure indeed." The goodmood buffet-buddy said in reply. He was quite clearly a noble... and one of the monetary and spendrift types that can afford the stuff that makes the body bloat like that. At least he seemed both friendly and open towards those beneath his caste.

After him, both a younger member of the priesthood seem elated to have the chance to talk to a guild pilot, starstruck merely from the guild pilot flightjacket Mendel was wearing. Along with a older-looking warrior caste soldier who had a similar although more subdued star struck response, seems he was just very honored and glad that the soon-to-start war will have some guild support, trainee newbies or not. He knew of the rumors of how hard the guild testing was to ensure quality pilots even when they are still 'wet behind the ears' so to speak.

Mendel even runs into a local business mogul who seems quite interested in Mendel specifically (going by the name of Lawrence McMillian - he is from Belize City hence why he both looks less native and speaks with a clear english accent). Apparently he is a maker and seller of something called Sache Sweets, a popular brand of dried-fruit candy here in Yucatan. Sache, as Mendel might have heard of from his fiance or possibly the to-be in-laws, is the white roads snaking their paths throughout Yucatan.... these also include the various railways of course - all of them interconnecting the various Yucatan Kingdoms.
"Oh no Master Guild-pilot, the pleasure is mine. Say, once your current contract with his Highness is over... would you perchance be interested in accepting a sponsorship from my company? A small appearance on TV and Radio, along with our product logo on your fine Warbird will do. You will of course receive a monthly supply of our product and hope you will... shall we say, spread the word of the quality and taste of our fine selection Local Yucatan-grown dried Fruit Candies? If you wish to think it over, do feel free to to so. However, I must have a response before the end of this little soiree - I doubht we'll have to chance to talk again until much later after that..." Lawrence said and, remained here, fancy dress-up, slicked back hair and the attitude of having offered Mendel quite the lucrative offer. Usually sponsorship offered happened AFTER the first initial Trial By Fire contract was done, but it seems Mendel's quality etiquette and mannerisms had impressed at least a few people - this local-business owner included.

So yeah, with this you have access to an automatic Sponsorship Deal after your current contract. You just have to go to Belize City which is here on Yucatan, just at the outskirts edge of the Island.
Oh and due to passing with an 8, which is used for Tough challenges, you also gain 1 Fame Point (not a full on Fame, just a point), taking you 1/6th of the way of improving your fame score - purely from quality scmoozing with the local aristocracy. :smallsmile:

[RandomLunatic]

With all the pleasantries concluded, Morgan made a beeline to the bar to avail himself of some rum.

Once properly hydrated, he turned his attention to the crowd. Morgan was in his element here, and he started hobnobbing with the crowd. As he worked the floor, he kept his eyes open for one of the advisors he'd seen earlier. Spotting his target, he moved in. "Oh, I remember you. You were at the port, bu we weren't properly introduced. The name's Morgan Forsythe."

(([roll0]))

[Hemnon]

With all the pleasantries concluded, Morgan made a beeline to the bar to avail himself of some rum.

Once properly hydrated, he turned his attention to the crowd. Morgan was in his element here, and he started hobnobbing with the crowd. As he worked the floor, he kept his eyes open for one of the advisors he'd seen earlier. Spotting his target, he moved in. "Oh, I remember you. You were at the port, bu we weren't properly introduced. The name's Morgan Forsythe."

(([roll0]))

The advisor, a late 30s looking lady with high cheekbones and a very natural-stern appearance, turned her gaze towards Morgan as he approached her. She was quite visually appealing, if you liked the tall, accentuated features type of ladies. The sharp-eyed might notice the nearly imperceptible lift of the eyebrows and widening of her eyes.
"I appreciate the gesture of being remembered, Sir Forsythe. I am Anise Tecotl. I must say I approve of yourself's and your companions' proper protocol on initial royalty-meeting. Not many outsiders would know, much less even care. I have visited many places in the upper island layers... The level of proper protocol seemed to be somewhat lacking, in my opinion." Anise said and took a sip from a glass of what looked and smelled very... local. It wasn't rum, or anything made from the upper islands, but never the less it most likely would still be a fine quality liquor. The smell was very sweet, but at the same time not the kind sweet from the normal type of fruit. And there was most likely some sort of agave in it as well.
Anyone that was an alcohol-specialist would recognise it as a contemporate version of the pre-storm Mayan 'Pulque'. The modernized version also contains fermented maize (Corn) and gives it a more rounded profile and cuts down on the alcohol-esque after taste and burn. Only trade-off is that it's less Agave-flavored due to the mix, but it's become a major hit with the folks across Yucatan, Peasant Caste and Noble Caste alike.
Although the Peasant Caste variety tends to be less refined, and thus also much cheaper... and lesser quality-tasting.

"So, what can I help you with Sir Forsy-" She continued and froze for a moment as recognition dawned upon her. "Wait... Forsythe. The Jamaican Forsythe Familyline?" She asked with a level of somewhat-veiled disbelief. Although to be fair, it wasn't all that often that anyone able to live the pleasant life would choose to become a guild pilot. Some wanted to join up of course for the rush of it all- and most ends up denied attendence for pure lack of situational awareness, a total inability to function in a cockpit, etc. The few that does pass that high curb then also needs to show value enough to be taken seriously as anything more than a second-rate Guild Member that might be put on courier duty or paperwork duty.

You get a Fame Point for a high-success on that Etiquette roll.

I can't offer a secured sponsorship tho, unless there's something Lady Tecotl is in business with that Morgan might be interested in being the sponsor of.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy tries not to visibly gawk at the fancy furnishings as she follows the others through the palace. On being ushered into the dining hall, her face goes blank for a moment, before returning to it's usual confident appearance, hiding the internal panic. Putain putain putain! Fighting? Oui. Killing? ...Oui. Flying? Oui! But this? Putain!

Swallowing her panic and doubling down on the bluster, she makes her way single-mindedly to the buffet and loading her plate up with as much of the food as possible. Forgetting her manners just a little as she focuses on stuffing her face.

[RandomLunatic]

"Yes, guilty as charged," Morgan said. "Mum and dad are Isabella and Harold Forsythe."

Then he continued, answering the unasked question. "When you're the 7th child of the lot, your only options for getting out of the shadows are join the clergy or join the army. I like to sleep in on weekends, so the church is right out, and it turns out the army's a lot more boring than the films make it seem. And when the pirates are dumb enough to hit Jamaica, the guild pilots will swoop right in and steal all the fun.

"Er, don't tell the others I said that," he said sheepishly.

"So right as I'm deciding whether to re-up in the air corps, a friend invites me to join him on a trip to Tagesta. Ever been there? Wonderful place, it is. Anyways, we're about 20 minutes out when we see this huge storm rolling in. Some want to go back, but I say 'I only have four days of leave, and no shower is going to keep me from using it!' I take over the stick and as we're going in on final..." Telling others about his various life adventures nearly always impressed.

[sandmote]

Mendel even runs into a local business mogul who seems quite interested in Mendel specifically (going by the name of Lawrence McMillian - he is from Belize City hence why he both looks less native and speaks with a clear english accent). Apparently he is a maker and seller of something called Sache Sweets, a popular brand of dried-fruit candy here in Yucatan. Sache, as Mendel might have heard of from his fiance or possibly the to-be in-laws, is the white roads snaking their paths throughout Yucatan.... these also include the various railways of course - all of them interconnecting the various Yucatan Kingdoms.
"Oh no Master Guild-pilot, the pleasure is mine. Say, once your current contract with his Highness is over... would you perchance be interested in accepting a sponsorship from my company? A small appearance on TV and Radio, along with our product logo on your fine Warbird will do. You will of course receive a monthly supply of our product and hope you will... shall we say, spread the word of the quality and taste of our fine selection Local Yucatan-grown dried Fruit Candies? If you wish to think it over, do feel free to to so. However, I must have a response before the end of this little soiree - I doubht we'll have to chance to talk again until much later after that..." Lawrence said and, remained here, fancy dress-up, slicked back hair and the attitude of having offered Mendel quite the lucrative offer. Usually sponsorship offered happened AFTER the first initial Trial By Fire contract was done, but it seems Mendel's quality etiquette and mannerisms had impressed at least a few people - this local-business owner included.

Mendel is not used to such offers (yet) and nearly chokes on a morsel at being offered one so quickly. Nearly. He takes a moment to consider his words, before starting "I think I can respond now that I would be very interested in going over more details with you. I suspect my Ichtaca would love some reminders of home. Mendle Katz," he continues, putting a bit more emphasis on the potential patron than the others dignitaries. "Lawrence McMillian, was it?"

[Hemnon]

Eddy tries not to visibly gawk at the fancy furnishings as she follows the others through the palace. On being ushered into the dining hall, her face goes blank for a moment, before returning to it's usual confident appearance, hiding the internal panic. Putain putain putain! Fighting? Oui. Killing? ...Oui. Flying? Oui! But this? Putain!

Swallowing her panic and doubling down on the bluster, she makes her way single-mindedly to the buffet and loading her plate up with as much of the food as possible. Forgetting her manners just a little as she focuses on stuffing her face.

Next to the buffet was small group of 3 people talking in what sounded like very fast Local-Mayan - All dressed and with a demeanor of being of the priest caste.
In a lounging couch with a pricetag that'd make just about anyone not of royal blood scream with horror at the amount of money it costs, was standing next to the buffet table and on it was a very.... wideset man in a classy looking tux (clearly it was also specially tailored to his girth and lack of being able to fit into anything sensitively normal sized), smoking on a cigar with closed eyes. He seemed to be enjoying his 'couch time' so to speak quite a lot, and did so without looking slouchy about it.

The food itself on the buffet table, as described earlier, was varied and catering to both local and outsider tastes.
There was this dessert as well that seemed like a form of ice cream, but it was more cold-puddingy. It was clear that the center of it was made with something frozen or at least very cold so the outer layers would remain chilled.


"Yes, guilty as charged," Morgan said. "Mum and dad are Isabella and Harold Forsythe."

Then he continued, answering the unasked question. "When you're the 7th child of the lot, your only options for getting out of the shadows are join the clergy or join the army. I like to sleep in on weekends, so the church is right out, and it turns out the army's a lot more boring than the films make it seem. And when the pirates are dumb enough to hit Jamaica, the guild pilots will swoop right in and steal all the fun.

"Er, don't tell the others I said that," he said sheepishly.

"So right as I'm deciding whether to re-up in the air corps, a friend invites me to join him on a trip to Tagesta. Ever been there? Wonderful place, it is. Anyways, we're about 20 minutes out when we see this huge storm rolling in. Some want to go back, but I say 'I only have four days of leave, and no shower is going to keep me from using it!' I take over the stick and as we're going in on final..." Telling others about his various life adventures nearly always impressed.

Anise Tecotl kept a raised-eyebrow... well, raised while Morgan spoke. She gave a chuckle at his rather... crass-but-proper words with regards to pirates and Jamaica being raided.
"Raid on Jamaica? I haven't heard of anything like it happening as far as I've lived... Those horrid criminals seems to only ever hunt and raid outerlying islands, transport ships and such. As well as us lower islands being more of an appealing target than those upper islands."

Anise seemed very engrossed in Morgan's story, although it was clear she was just regularly interested, not really impressed about anything so far. It seemed like she'd seen or experienced quite a few things herself although just what that was.... who knows~



Mendel is not used to such offers (yet) and nearly chokes on a morsel at being offered one so quickly. Nearly. He takes a moment to consider his words, before starting "I think I can respond now that I would be very interested in going over more details with you. I suspect my Ichtaca would love some reminders of home. Mendle Katz," he continues, putting a bit more emphasis on the potential patron than the others dignitaries. "Lawrence McMillian, was it?"

Lawrence nodded as Mendel asked to affirm to his name.
"Right you are, Sir Lawrence McMillian of the McMillian Consortium. We own quite a few business enterprises and one of our most well-doing local ones is the Sache Sweets Inc. That deals with those candies in question."

Lawrence seemed to have a small 'eureka' moment so to speak. "You mentioned an 'Ichtaca' yes. Your... wife? girlfriend? Well, Significant Other I take it.... I already have the basics idea of our latest commerical - Sache Sweets, for proposals or just for when you wish your beloved to have something for the sweet tooth." Lawrence mulled the basics over. before continuing. "Oh yes, it still needs some polishing and refining.... but yes - but something that includes love and affection into it. Anyways, since you sound interested mister Katz, would you like to sign a prebusiness contract so we are both obligated to uphold this agreement? you know, strictly for the sake of having the paperworks in order~" Lawrence said with a mild handwave to make it clear this was simply a formality.

[RandomLunatic]

"Oh dear, I'm talking all about me again, aren't I?" Morgan asked once his tale had concluded. "What about you? What do you do?"

[sandmote]

Lawrence nodded as Mendel asked to affirm to his name.
"Right you are, Sir Lawrence McMillian of the McMillian Consortium. We own quite a few business enterprises and one of our most well-doing local ones is the Sache Sweets Inc. That deals with those candies in question."

Lawrence seemed to have a small 'eureka' moment so to speak. "You mentioned an 'Ichtaca' yes. Your... wife? girlfriend? Well, Significant Other I take it.... I already have the basics idea of our latest commerical - Sache Sweets, for proposals or just for when you wish your beloved to have something for the sweet tooth." Lawrence mulled the basics over. before continuing. "Oh yes, it still needs some polishing and refining.... but yes - but something that includes love and affection into it. Anyways, since you sound interested mister Katz, would you like to sign a prebusiness contract so we are both obligated to uphold this agreement? you know, strictly for the sake of having the paperworks in order~" Lawrence said with a mild handwave to make it clear this was simply a formality.

Mendel is less confident here, and balks a bit. "I suppose that can be handled quickly, although I would prefer to wait for formalities until we can arrange a formal meeting on the subject. I am not quite as familiar on the local view of interrupting such an event for these things," he notes apologetically. "Still, what would you prefer?"

[Bowerbird]

Eddy affects an air of nonchalance, though is unable to completely hide her own impressed reaction to the large man's opulence. Scooping up some of the ice cream pudding she glances over at her squad-mates making successful small talk with the locals, Putain de beurk, I guess I should try too. Quel est le pire qui peut arriver. Looking back towards the big guy she calls out in what she hopes is a friendly way, "Waouh, looks like you got the best seat in the house, non?"

Because I'm a masochist and have to keep inserting French.
Putain de beurk = F*ing ugh/yuck
Quel est le pire qui peut arriver. = What's the worst that could happen
Waouh = Wow

[Hemnon]

"Oh dear, I'm talking all about me again, aren't I?" Morgan asked once his tale had concluded. "What about you? What do you do?"

Anise Tecotl just smiled mildly, clearly indicating she was used to this and had become good at patiently listening to other people's blabberings~
"Why I am a Royal Advisor, of course. Beyond that title, I guess you can say I advise the king and do the work assigned to me, usually something outside the kingdom's borders - ambassadorial duties so to speak. I am still curious as to what I can do for you tho...?" Anise asked with a slightly-turned head and a raised eyebrow in mild curiousity.


Mendel is less confident here, and balks a bit. "I suppose that can be handled quickly, although I would prefer to wait for formalities until we can arrange a formal meeting on the subject. I am not quite as familiar on the local view of interrupting such an event for these things," he notes apologetically. "Still, what would you prefer?"

Lawrence raised a hand hastily, shaking his head. "No no, as I said, it's merely for the sake of formalities and it'll help ensure no.... poachers would approach you with their own offers. I have the papers on me right now. They are short, to the point and merely a basic contract, nothing more - I have no interest in binding you with legal chains and promises. It's to ensure even if others approach, you can merely make mention of a signed contract and thus you get to avoid having to do or say anything else." Lawrence McMillian said with a placating tone. It was QUITE clear he wasn't trying to trick Mendel, nor try to make use of contractual writings to gain an upper hand in something... well, beyond the fact any competitors won't be able to get a hold of an up-and-coming Guild Pilot.


Eddy affects an air of nonchalance, though is unable to completely hide her own impressed reaction to the large man's opulence. Scooping up some of the ice cream pudding she glances over at her squad-mates making successful small talk with the locals, Putain de beurk, I guess I should try too. Quel est le pire qui peut arriver. Looking back towards the big guy she calls out in what she hopes is a friendly way, "Waouh, looks like you got the best seat in the house, non?"

Because I'm a masochist and have to keep inserting French.
Putain de beurk = F*ing ugh/yuck
Quel est le pire qui peut arriver. = What's the worst that could happen
Waouh = Wow

The girthy man on the side couch looked up at Eddy with a raised eyebrow, chewing a mouthful before swallowing. There wasn't a spot of food on his clothes tho, so his somewhat 'slob' appearance was more from a lifestyle of eating beyond WELL, than a lack of manners or otherwise inability to eat like a normal person.
Surprisingly tho he spoke back with a clean (but Mayan-natively accent-touched) french.
"Beurk? Le pudding réfrigéré n'a pas si mauvais goût..." He smiled knowingly tho and clearly found Eddy's rather foul mouth amusing, especially since she might not have known that anyone down here in the lower islands would speak french.
Then in english he continued (cuz I hate having to google-translate more french) "But yes, this is quite the most comfortable seat. Never enjoyed those stand-around-and-chat customs. There's plenty of room if you wish to have a seat as well my dear....
bouche de pot - friend." The opulent man said with a mirthful chuckle and returned to eat from what looked liked thin sliced ham wrapped around some kind of cheese that was all that remained on his platter.

Beurk? Le pudding réfrigéré n'a pas si mauvais goût... <--- Means 'Yuck? The chilled pudding doesn't taste THAT bad...

bouche de pot <--- means Potty Mouthed.

[RandomLunatic]

"To the point. Nice. I was curious what that little tiff on the pier was all about. I'm afraid I only have the gift of gab in one language."

[sandmote]

Lawrence raised a hand hastily, shaking his head. "No no, as I said, it's merely for the sake of formalities and it'll help ensure no.... poachers would approach you with their own offers. I have the papers on me right now. They are short, to the point and merely a basic contract, nothing more - I have no interest in binding you with legal chains and promises. It's to ensure even if others approach, you can merely make mention of a signed contract and thus you get to avoid having to do or say anything else." Lawrence McMillian said with a placating tone. It was QUITE clear he wasn't trying to trick Mendel, nor try to make use of contractual writings to gain an upper hand in something... well, beyond the fact any competitors won't be able to get a hold of an up-and-coming Guild Pilot. "Ah, A Non-Compete Clause. My apologies, I should not have assumed a full contract. May I have the document?" Mendle wipes his hands on his hankerchief, and motions for the page. "I assume we're already in the best place for any required, honorable witnesses."

I assume it is relatively short, given it can be carried a party. I would appreciate a summary of the relevant clauses, although I assume it's just "person agreeing to prepare for sponsorship can't take sponsorships from competing producers of [legal term for candies and sweets] over X period (or until X date) until a full contract will be settled."

[Bowerbird]

"Oh, pu-er waouh, didn't expect anyone here to speak French," Eddy laughs a little too loud, "Tant pis, why not?" She kicks back on some empty space in the lounge, Désolée, I'm new to these fancy dinner things. I'm Eddy, by the way, pilote extraordinaire of the Grey Falcons." She immediately sets about trying the puddings, possibly a little too eagerly, around a mouthful of pudding she adds, "Et toi?"

Tant pis = What the hell
Désolée = Sorry
Et toi? = And you?

[Hemnon]

"To the point. Nice. I was curious what that little tiff on the pier was all about. I'm afraid I only have the gift of gab in one language."

"Tiff? oh, you mean THAT? well some of us were just pleasantly surprised you and your companions were quite knowledgeable about proper Yucatan-etiquette." Anise replied rather calmly, with just the hint of a smirk.


"Ah, A Non-Compete Clause. My apologies, I should not have assumed a full contract. May I have the document?" Mendle wipes his hands on his hankerchief, and motions for the page. "I assume we're already in the best place for any required, honorable witnesses."

I assume it is relatively short, given it can be carried a party. I would appreciate a summary of the relevant clauses, although I assume it's just "person agreeing to prepare for sponsorship can't take sponsorships from competing producers of [legal term for candies and sweets] over X period (or until X date) until a full contract will be settled."

(pretty much, yes.)
"Indeed. I would not bind you to a full contract while on an active job - some would, but I find it a distraction if it'd happen to me. We have plenty of time afterwards after all to discuss specific and such, along with giving details to your mechanics crew so they know how to add our logo to your warbird's paintjob and the placement where it'd be the most ideal. However, as I said, that is something we will discuss when your currect contract with his highness is over and done with - but prior to you all leaving of course. As for Honorable Witnesses, we do not need those for this simple non-compete clause. For a full contract, well then we'd of course need such~" Lawrence said and handed over the relatively short and direct-word non-compete contract with a few clauses for each side. Lawrence already had it signed of course and had a spare one so both parties kept a copy - so he'd of course hand over the copy afterwards to also be signed.


"Oh, pu-er waouh, didn't expect anyone here to speak French," Eddy laughs a little too loud, "Tant pis, why not?" She kicks back on some empty space in the lounge, Désolée, I'm new to these fancy dinner things. I'm Eddy, by the way, pilote extraordinaire of the Grey Falcons." She immediately sets about trying the puddings, possibly a little too eagerly, around a mouthful of pudding she adds, "Et toi?"

Tant pis = What the hell
Désolée = Sorry
Et toi? = And you?

The Oppulent man made a 'me?' gesture with a raise eyebrow before giving a light, relaxed shrug. "No one of great importance. I am here in the stead of my ailing father. Please just call me Lord Chamer, no need for lastnames - but for my full name it's Lord Chamer Tzabnal. A minor aristocrat of not much note or use, beyond ensuring the peasantry keep compliant and the harvests of my family's lands remains satisfactory."

[sandmote]

Mendel signs the two papers, and folds his copy into his pocket. "Thank you very much, and I hope to see you soon." He then bids Lawrence until next time.

Once this is done he goes back to schmoozing.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy starts to relax a little, she's networking right? This is networking? Close enough. Job done. "Lord, hein? Bon! Me, I grew up in Haiti, only harvest I had to watch was the alcool de contrebande harvest, non?" She laughs, taking the opportunity to put her booted feet up, "This pudding est délicieux" She says around a mouthful of said pudding, content to stay where she is and make small talk.
Hein? = Right?
Bon! = Cool!
Alcool de contrebande = Moonshine
Est délicieux = Is delicious

[RandomLunatic]

"Oh is that all it was? It seemed rather animated. I thought it was serious.

"That buffet looks delicious. Is there anything you recommend?"

[Hemnon]

Mendel signs the two papers, and folds his copy into his pocket. "Thank you very much, and I hope to see you soon." He then bids Lawrence until next time.

Once this is done he goes back to schmoozing.

Lawrence gave a light bow of the head at Mendel and returned to his own smoozing as well.


Eddy starts to relax a little, she's networking right? This is networking? Close enough. Job done. "Lord, hein? Bon! Me, I grew up in Haiti, only harvest I had to watch was the alcool de contrebande harvest, non?" She laughs, taking the opportunity to put her booted feet up, "This pudding est délicieux" She says around a mouthful of said pudding, content to stay where she is and make small talk.
Hein? = Right?
Bon! = Cool!
Alcool de contrebande = Moonshine
Est délicieux = Is delicious

Chamer Tzabnal shook his head. "No nonono. I am Lord Chamer of the Tzabnal familyline. And Haiti you say, can't really comment on the place, I had not spent much time on the upper islands. As for the homemade alcohol stuff you mention - as long as it's made properly I never saw the issue with it."
He gave a not in reply to the frozen-chilled pudding stuff-comment, clearly a fan of it as well.


"Oh is that all it was? It seemed rather animated. I thought it was serious.

"That buffet looks delicious. Is there anything you recommend?"

Anise looked towards the buffet at the mentions of it. "That is quite the good question... I'd rather recommend you take a sampler of each thing. Just enough to get a taste for what everything tastes like. Why do you ask? Allergic to something, or just purely curious?"

[RandomLunatic]

"Just curious," said Morgan.

"Here's to a quick victory for our lads," he toasted. Then he excused himself to check out the buffet.

[Bowerbird]

From her seat next to Lord Chamer Eddy waves at Morgan as he heads towards the buffet table, her mouth full of pudding, boots up on a nearby table, "Salut, Morgan! You should try the pudding, non? Est délicieux!" She gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, it's clear that by this point his earlier reminder about proper court etiquette has been all but forgotten.

[RandomLunatic]

"I think I will," said Morgan, getting himself a bowl. "So who's your friend?"

[Hemnon]

From her seat next to Lord Chamer Eddy waves at Morgan as he heads towards the buffet table, her mouth full of pudding, boots up on a nearby table, "Salut, Morgan! You should try the pudding, non? Est délicieux!" She gives him an enthusiastic thumbs up, it's clear that by this point his earlier reminder about proper court etiquette has been all but forgotten.

The Lord Chamer just kept on eating, letting Eddy talk with her Flight Companion in peace... although he remained on the couch. He'd sat there first after all~

[Hemnon]

The hours pass and before you all realize it, the little soiree is over with and the king lets the region flight-commander of the small base area 3 of you will be stationed at, while two of you get directed over to a forward-observation post (specifically Olivia Vasquez & George Quill.... aka. the two non-responding people who are hereby out of the game).

------------------------------------

Little Peak Air-Raid Base (Translated from Native Mayan of course) - 04:30am local.
Finally, you have all FINALLY gotten around to settle in, in full. Morgan go introduced to everyone of note - which was just 3 people. The Comms officer in the little radiotower room, the Mayan Flight-Commander of this little base, whom each of you will be under the command of... well, unofficially so, because they can't ACTUALLY take command of you. It's part of the contract tho, so it's expected to defer command and control of the Flight as a whole to him.
Lastly there's the nearby groundforce Commander. Everyone else was less than important enough to be noted by the Flight Commander himself.

Mendle and Eddy can both easily get the same introduction if they want. Otherwise there's the chance for some racktime until it's time to get up and be on stand-by duty.
mess-work, cleaning duties, etc, etc. is all done by a sub-class for the Military Caste. Not truely Military, but neither merely civilians of the peasant or merchant Caste. A lot of them tends to be women as well and it's rare to see any females in the Soldier Caste - at least here at this little airbase.
The 3 Warbirds have all been stowed in small open-covered airplane hangars - one plane in each. Besides the 3 Warbirds (of which there's been a bit of an awe-and-curiousity already, even though it's barely gotten into morning hours), there's 7 Mayan Airforce Planes, all of which seem to be loaded for Ground-attack use and holding specialized Rocket Pods allowing 2 volleys - along with 20mm cannons for both hard-hitting air-to-air and functional use against ground targets.

You've each also been indepth briefed on how Yucatan Warfare works between the various Kingdoms and what is legal target and what is very much big NONO areas to stray into. Basically there's a lined in area, open and unused between this kingdom's borders and the enemy borders, with a dotted line showing how far into enemy territory any ground OR air force units may stray and make use of it's armaments.
Breaking these rules of engagement, so to speak, is punishable with potential courtmarshalling and a firing squad execution. Warfare is done the RIGHT way here and any deviations are to be punished severely. This includes hired-in Mercenaries like Guild Pilots and it's expect that each of you respect this mode of combat.
(It won't have any real active function during battle, it's just flavor that straying beyond the battle area is a big no no and attacks outside a certain designated area is equally big of a no no.)

[RandomLunatic]

"I'll make sure the other chaps know," Morgan assured.

"So how many men and aircraft do the Gabor have? And what's the plan for making it go down?"

[sandmote]

Mend does his best to remain stern and attentive when he is briefed. "I'm glad to understand there will be no civilian targets."

Later, he does stop in for a check with the flight commander, to make sure all is in order.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy takes the opportunity to get a bit of rest, but has trouble staying asleep. After a while she decides to suit up for stand-by duty a little early, and spend the intervening time idly inspecting the Mayan Airforce planes, since the enemy would likely be flying similar machines.

[Hemnon]

"I'll make sure the other chaps know," Morgan assured.

"So how many men and aircraft do the Gabor have? And what's the plan for making it go down?"

The region flight-commander, by the name of Savros - Flight-Commander Savros if you want to use full title. He haven't given his firstname.
"Well it's less about how much they have, and more about how much is agreed that both sides send into battle. It's estimated that they will send 2 or 3 flights against our position - You Guild-Folk will be put on Rapid-Response Duty For tomorrow when the battle will start. So you'll be grounded until confirmed targets are identified. Once in the air, I'll leave Target Acquisition and Area Prioritization up to yourselves since we do not have flight-to-flight radios like you guilders do. We do have this Radio-position, so ground-to-air comms is possible if we have emergency directives to redirect you all. One last thing, it's very bad sport to shoot down an already crippled aircraft - We can't really do anything about it, even IF any of you do this to the enemy, but I ask of you all to NOT do it anyways." Savros said with a sniff before sipping at a mug of coffee.
"We are expecting heavy fog and/or heavy cloud covering as well, depending on where the incoming weather pattern will go... straight or up high."



Mend does his best to remain stern and attentive when he is briefed. "I'm glad to understand there will be no civilian targets."

Later, he does stop in for a check with the flight commander, to make sure all is in order.

The region flight-commander (Savros) had just finished talking with Morgan, when Mendel entered. He gave Mendel a judging gaze for a few seconds before returning to his reports and comms-transcripts "Signal Ground-Commander and initialize attack preparation-plan Alpha-Zulu. Confirm and acknowledge a positive on our end." Savros said to the comms-officer at the Radio.
So far everything seems in order. It actually feels a lot more like an elaborate board game being set up, rather than what most think of when it comes to 'warfare'. Everything was done in an almost ritualistic fashion instead of a tactical and covert manner.


Eddy takes the opportunity to get a bit of rest, but has trouble staying asleep. After a while she decides to suit up for stand-by duty a little early, and spend the intervening time idly inspecting the Mayan Airforce planes, since the enemy would likely be flying similar machines.

The appointed bunks for Eddy and her fellow Guild Pilots were all located away from the Mayan Pilots out of respect for the Guilders, this also meant Eddy didn't have to try and sleep with people constantly milling in and out of the area.

Later as she checked the Mayan Airforce planes, she could see they were very much an outdated type of aircraft when compared to her own Warbird. HOWEVER it's very clear that the model and Ordnance indicates Ground-attack focus over Versatility or full on Air-Superiority. Eddy would be very surprised if the military doctrine and training here would be heavily focused on Strafing Runs over Dogfighting as well - If the enemy side had a similar format of doing things (which was highly likely, unless they have Merc forces that are not native to Yucatan like Eddy and her Flight, for example), then air superiority would be a lot easier to achieve.

Eddy also noticed that it was the Guild Technicians and Mechanics from the Dropcarrier that was dealing with the warbirds, not the locals - for obvious reasons. Although She hadn't noticed when they'd arrived. Most likely they'd gotten ferried out here with the Warbirds while Eddy and her Flight Buds were busy schmoozing at the King's lil' soiree earlier.

-------------------------------------------

So yeah, one free day before the planned battle will begin the following morning. Feel free to do whatever you want - be it help plan tactics, talk with your teammates and set up some sort of Flight Lead and Wingmen for the trio.... go play poker with the Mayan pilots... whatever you feel would be the thing your character'd do~ Feel free to make use of skills that'd fit for the situation. Or ask what the Difficulty of such a roll would be before you roll. Remember if you roll a natural 1 and fail by 3 degrees margin or more - then you can ask for a Critical Failure to happen... if you do you gain an XP for the skill used and a point of Reserve. So do not be afraid of asking for these things to happen. BUT, Critical Failure is BAD, so expect something nasty (albeit not character ruining) to happen.

[RandomLunatic]

Morgan nodded. "Understood." He took one final look at the map to see if either side's aerodromes were inside the lines that demarcated the edge of the combat area, then turned to the ground commander, seeing Mendel walk in. "Oh, hullo. You're just in time. I was about to ask our ground commander what the plan was for tomorrow. It'll be much easier to keep an eye on your lads if we know where to find them."

[Hemnon]

Time goes on, everyone visits where they want. One goes to see and talk with the Ground Commander, another finds some newfound pals to gamble with, etc.
----------------------------

That following morning.....

There's a buzz in the air of focused activity, and at first glance one might mistaken the mass of activity as unsupervised and mindless - but a second glance would let just about anyone notice the level of practiced focus that was included in everyone's motion - like ants knowing where to go and how to do it efficiently.

The three of you were sitting on standby for active take-off, a little ace up the sleeve for when the enemy airforce was detected in a incoming fly-pattern. They were expected to be detected within the hour.
Unfortunately it seemed like the forecast for the weather had held true and there was a lot of heavy cloud cover. not enough for rain, but still heavy and steel-grey with darker patches here and there. If the enemy were to use the clouds for cover, they might be able to attack before they were discovered. This was of course one of the primary reasons the Horado Kingdom had hired some dogfighting-specialized Guild Pilots - and the fact they got that at a cheaper rate cuz it's newly minted Rookies meant nothing. As long as they were able to perform as promised, it'd be worth the investment. Especially since the king would get a hold of a floatstone mine that could bring back the hiring cost within less than a year alone.

So yeah, one more hour to go...
-------------------------

Where are each of you, and what are you doing? did you sleep well? night-before-first-combat nerves? Did you bond with anyone else? Chat with eachother further - perhaps gaining a little info on what callsign you might wanna toss out for the others to hear when you will be giving eachother a permanent callsign? Something else?

[RandomLunatic]

The previous night, Morgan had checked in on the planes, ordered the crews to load his warbird up with rockets on the hardpoints, and then had a night socializing with the other pilots before turning in.

The next morning found him pacing the flightline, sipping a cup of tea and alternating between checking his watch and checking the sky. It wasn't nerves but restless energy responsible for his agitation. He was anxious to get the show going, but that required the other pilots to quit lollygagging around and show up already.

[Bowerbird]

Eddy has been increasingly antisocial as the hours tick by closer to her first real combat. Going over her doubts in her head while it's still safe to indulge them. Morgan actually finds her already at the flightline, near her plane, already dressed in her full gear, her anxiety not entirely hidden from her face. "Je putain déteste cette partie. Almost time?"
Je déteste cette partie = I hate this part

[RandomLunatic]

Morgan looked up at the sky. "That depends on the Horado, doesn't it? Don't they know it's rude to keep people waiting?"

Then he moved towards Eddie, so he could speak softly to her without anyone else overhearing. "How many dogfights have you been in? Real ones, not training?" he asked, concern touching his voice.

[sandmote]

Mendle puts the minimum bet in, but does try to get familiar with some of the Mayan soldiers over a few games. He makes sure to have the money beforehand, and is very firm about not wanting to need to settle anything after the fight.

[roll0] Assuming mind or spirit

[Hemnon]

The hour passes... and nothing. Where are the enemy? Where are the frontline reports?
Only the chirping of birds can be heard, the tension builds and then - BOOM! a massive explosion mushroom-clouds up from the distance where the enemy encampment is located (no not a nuke, just flavorful explosion visuals). Something is happening out there!

Then, in the cloudy distance halfway between where the enemies should be and your own side's frontline, you can see planes dip lightly from the heavy cloud cover... You're under attack!
-----------------------

Enter Air Combat

You each hurry for your planes as a general alert is sounded and immediate air cover is needed.
By the time you three have gotten airborne, the silouette of an airship can be seen in the distance hovering over what seems like an out-of-the-way civilian target. What the heck is going on!?

Your warbirds climb high up near the cloud cover, staying clear from it to avoid the colder temperatures and condensation issues entering the clouds could cause.
Current orders are to approach the enemy, learn what is going on and report back. The enemy is about 5-8 kilometers out so you can Radio back immediately upon learning the situation. Front line spotters has reported that it seems your enemy is... under attack. and has been bombed. Civilian deaths also appear confirmed.
---------------------------

Current rounds to the ground is: 3 (meaning at start of combat you'll be on 4 Rounds)
Cloud Cover at Round: 5

you each have 2 combat rounds worth of time to do whatever you want in your warbirds. look for enemies, listen in on radio traffic, assert Flight-lead command, etc. etc. Just let me know what you attempt and why. You can also choose to climb up higher to have more 'Rounds to The Ground' (although you'll be in the clouds and will suffer certain penalties).
However you cannot engage enemies that are below (or above) your 'Round' level, however you can easily descend down to a lower level without it taking time, Or if you have enemies above you, you can decide to disengage your 'Round' level in order to climb up and join a higher level later... or you can stay disengaged a full following round and re-enter combat higher up.
Entering the cloud cover will make you unable to do battle, but you can also not be shot at either. However your warbird will begin to get icing issues in the clouds the round after you entered the clouds - which begins giving Piloting penalties. You need to spend a whole round de-icing after descending from the cloud cover to get rid of the penalties.

PS: Rounds To The Ground indicates how many rounds you can be in battle before you need to disengage and climb... or you can take a chance and let it go to 0 and then do a Strafing Roll to avoid crashing into the ground. So that means if you decide to attack when on 1 RttG, then the following turn the round will tick down and.... CRASH (potentially). You can also skim the ground and do dogfighting, but that's hella dangerous as you need to keep on rolling Strafing skill checks at the start of the round or crash into something.

[RandomLunatic]

"Looks like somebody's gone and made a right proper mess of things up here," Morgan observed. "Are either of you good with a radio? See if you can intercept some chatter. I think we have party crashers."

Meanwhile, he searched out his canopy for any aircraft nearby.

(([roll0]))

[sandmote]

"This does not appear to be our contract, but a threat to safety," Mendle notes into the radio. "Cutting out to search," he continues, flipping through various channels to look for enemy communication.

[roll0] (assuming mind and investigation)

[Bowerbird]

Eddy's slightly worried look is cut off by the explosion and the following turmoil. Once in the air, a lot of her pre-battle jitters fall to the wayside somewhat, "Mendle can tinker with the radio, gonna climb up and have a look, jeter un œil, non?" Her plane accelerates out of formation as she gains speed and altitude, her eyes peeled in the direction of the explosion.

Want to start ascending to just below the cloud layer for a better view.

Roll for Awareness, no skill so just Mind? [roll0]

jeter un œil = have a look

[Hemnon]

"Looks like somebody's gone and made a right proper mess of things up here," Morgan observed. "Are either of you good with a radio? See if you can intercept some chatter. I think we have party crashers."

Meanwhile, he searched out his canopy for any aircraft nearby.

(([roll0]))

Morgan notices something shadowy just near the cloud cover a little further up - around 2 o-clock from current position.
He's unable to distinguish what exactly it is, but a good guess would be some sort of fighterplanes.
He also notices a very dark patch in the clouds out near the 'Enemy' base area. Perhaps thunder or rain is about to fall out there?


"This does not appear to be our contract, but a threat to safety," Mendle notes into the radio. "Cutting out to search," he continues, flipping through various channels to look for enemy communication.

[roll0] (assuming mind and investigation)

Mendle gets a lot of static from the radio, which is to be expected with both the fact that the Eye itself causes a lot of interference and limits distance to about 10 kilometers. Add on top the oncoming weather conditions and the static is quite intense.
He does manage to filter through it at a few moments, catching small phrasings of clarity. Among them is the following snippets:
'We are *static* - Who are-*more static*.'
'Civi-*static*, housing area de-*static*.'
'Counter them now! got our bir-*static*, -we need then up there no-*static*.'

It's quite clear someone is attacking the Royal Gabor Nation's frontline base area and is targeting civilians as well. Mendle would also be quite aware that no Yucatan nation would be behind it, since it goes against traditions of warfare since back prior to the Great Storm happened centuries back now.
Then who could it be? Contracted Guild Mercs? Non-Guild mercenaries? Pirates? Perhaps another island nation's airforce is attacking? Whomever it might be, they are breaking the most sacred of warfare functions on Yucatan.


Eddy's slightly worried look is cut off by the explosion and the following turmoil. Once in the air, a lot of her pre-battle jitters fall to the wayside somewhat, "Mendle can tinker with the radio, gonna climb up and have a look, jeter un œil, non?" Her plane accelerates out of formation as she gains speed and altitude, her eyes peeled in the direction of the explosion.

Want to start ascending to just below the cloud layer for a better view.

Roll for Awareness, no skill so just Mind? [roll0]

jeter un œil = have a look

Eddy easily climbs up to hug the cloud cover just above her canopy, frosty vapor blooming out over the upper curve of the Canopy itself - a clear warning that any further ascending will cause icing to build up over the warbird itself.
Due to the heavy cloud cover and far distance, Eddy is unable to discern anything else than the barely perceptible hints of aircraft further out approaching the trio of you.
------------------------------------------------------------

On the Approach - Thematic music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BjafgpDuniM)

Current rounds to the ground is: 3 (meaning at start of combat you'll be on 4 Rounds)
Cloud Cover at Round: 5

Round 5 - Eddy.
Round 4 - Mendel, Morgan.

The above basically means that if combat were to start next turn, you'll all descend down a RttG, putting Eddy and Round 4 and Mendel + Morgan at Round 3. Rising past Round 5 will cause icing issues, just FYI.

One last round until the three of you will be confronted with the frontline battlezone of whomever is attacking the Gaborian side - as well as most likely get into lethal distance of whatever aircraft that Morgan and Eddy had just barely managed to notice once or two before they vanished into the distance and cloudy shadows. If any of you wanna try to locate them again, you can try to do so now. Or you can try and locate ground targets valid for strafing runs, or look for alternate targets. you need to pick one to do... or you can potentially roll very high for one and get a chance to do more than one of them. But let me know what your character is actually looking & rolling for, firstly.

I also assume the three of you are radioing around info to eachother of what each of you see or hear and such, yeah?

[sandmote]

"There is no way the attackers are Yucatán," Mendle warns the others. "So, I suspect they aren't operating from the ground. Watch for a carrier to avoid."

Late to checking his surroundings, Mendle takes a look for surrounding aircraft; no sense getting ambushed.

[roll0] (assuming awareness and not body)

[RandomLunatic]

"Like that big airship over at 1:30?" Morgan asked. "But I agree, this is a third party.

"We were hired to protect Horado's lads from the Gabor fliers, but it looks like they're all busy, so that's accomplished. I think a cease-fire is in order until these blighters are dealt with. Who's with me?" he asked.

[Bowerbird]

With a small grunt of irritation at her icing canopy, Eddy corrects the problem by inverting the plane. Skimming the sea of the clouds, barely, to avoid icing anything important. "Merde, les gars, you know I'm up for that, non? D'ailleurs, we got some visitors coming through the clouds up here, no ID though. We gonna wait for an invitation to this dance or cut in?"

Merde, les gars = S***, guys
D'ailleurs = incidentally

[sandmote]

"Well, if 'these blighters' are the only ones airborne, I'm not sure there's much choice except a cease-fire," Mendle notes. "I suspect the new plan should be to maintain order for our employers, and I'd like to take some pressure off the civilians," he continues.

[RandomLunatic]

"As would I. I'm glad we're all on the same page then.

"I saw some bogies in the clouds over at 2 o'clock. Let's shift 30 degrees to port to throw them off." If they were waiting in ambush, and they too lacked radios, they wouldn't be able to follow the maneuver.

"And watch my back. I'm going to try telling the Gabor we're here to help. Try to avoid shooting their planes unless they're attacking us. And bring your A charades game." He switched to the channels Mendel had picked up Gabor traffic on started trying to cut in. "Royal Gabor forces in the combat zone, this is Morgan Forsythe of the 106 Grey Falcons squadron. We're picking up reports of attack on civilians, and want to help deal with your guests.

"Royal Gabor forces in the combat zone, this is Morgan Forsythe..."

[Hemnon]

Some cursing and high-peak static could be heard... but a clear-enough voice could be heard replying over the static.
"-e!? Mercs! We are under attack and you're gonna join in against us!? Who is this? you keept cutting out. Only heard something about Grey Falcons. You lot part of the Guild?" The clearly-male-but-otherwise-undefinable speaker said (too much static to catch more than the fact it's a male that has a clear 'Yucatan' accent and should very much be fairly 'up there' rankwise to be speaking like that... hopefully, at least.
It was very clear that The Speaker (as he'll be called for now) had only caught the initial part of the transmission from Morgan - introduction and Squadron Name, not the 'we are coming in peace' bit afterwards.

[RandomLunatic]

"Aye Gabor, we're guild, and we're here to help if you'll have us. Or even if you won't. We're not about to sit back and let civilians die. There's no sport in that.

"So what's your situation? It's still a bit hard to make out from where we are."

(([roll0] to convince we're for real.))

[Hemnon]

"Aye Gabor, we're guild, and we're here to help if you'll have us. Or even if you won't. We're not about to sit back and let civilians die. There's no sport in that.

"So what's your situation? It's still a bit hard to make out from where we are."

(([roll0] to convince we're for real.))

"*static*-ously? Well we'd accept any help we can get righ-*static*-ow. We dunno who is a-*static*, only that they have an oldermodel carrier and is doing bombing-runs on grou-*static* targets!" And with a sudden burst of loud noise and even harsher static, the lines goes dead... for now at least. Seems like the Gabor forces are willing to accept the help.
-----------

In the distance, you can ALL see the now-very-clear sillouettes of fighterplanes that are clearly NOT Gabor-owned or controlled. In about 2 minutes dogfighting range will be reached.
On a road below there's also a small dot driving along on that dirtroad as if hell itself was persuing it.
It's very much rare for anyone to have a motorised vehicle, btw, so it's clearly either some posh businessman's car, or someone of noble birth.

(this will be considered an emergency-contract of the kind like with big Lawfirms doing pro bono work. This will be counted just like that and the aftermath consequences are all on you lot's head. It's also a last chance to do anything else, like contacting anyone, look out for further bogeys, etc. etc.)

[RandomLunatic]

Morgan switched back the the channel for ground control. "HQ, Grey Falcons flight. The good news is it looks like the Royal Gabor are going to have to forfeit. There's an unknown force bombing the merry hell out of them. These blackguards are bombing civilians too, so we're going in to give them what for.

"There's a motor car heading east on the road in grid fox-able two-seven. Might want to have some lads check it out.

"Grey Falcon flight, over."

Then he switched back to his flight's channels. "Let's grab some altitude before mixing it up, mates," he ordered, pulling back on the stick to climb up towards the cloud base.

((Climb an altitude.))

[Bowerbird]

"Oui, il est grand temps. Way ahead of you, capitaine!" Eddy almost crows from her position, upside down just beneath the cloud layer, "Time for some real combat, ca va être génial, mec!" Despite her brash attitude, she takes a moment for a last minute check over her controls, as well as peer over toward the approaching enemy craft.
Because I couldn't not spout a bunch of random French:
Oui, il est grand temps. = Yes, it's about time.
Capitaine = Captain (In this case semi-sarcastically)
ca va être génial, mec = It's gonna be awesome, dude!

Maintaining current course, as Eddy's already as high as she can go before icing up.