Skyside 7: The Big Pizza in the Sky

[Rebonack]

[SPAAAAACE!]

Oh.

Well.

That's interesting, isn't it?

Why was the ghast able to filter the toxin but everyone else wasn't?

Zee raises one hand.

"Hold up. The toxin didn't kill this creature. I'm going to find out why," she says, holstering her tonfa and approaching the creature at a measured pace.

Given that she's wearing no armor to speak of this might strike some onlookers as a bad idea. Of course Minerva has already seen that the "psycher" is far more resilient than she has any business being, so maybe she'll be able to prevent the mercs from shooting the creature up?

[Ironsmith]

[BrightStar Spaceport]

"Approach vector confirmed. We'll be landing in three minutes."

Klaus takes a moment to straighten his tie as the shuttle approaches BrightStar Spaceport. "Excellent. I've been looking forward to this."

"You don't need to tell me that." Vlad replies, keeping his gaze fixed on the shuttle's instrument panels. "This is as close to giddy as I've ever seen you. You still haven't told me why you're so interested in this place."

"I can't not be interested. All the rumors I've heard about Skyside suggest it's one of the most anarchic places in the Nexus. Precisely the sort of environment I'd be most comfortable in."

"If you say so. Personally, I've had enough of the sneaking and subterfuge to last me a lifetime." Vlad smirks a little. "I am going to miss the perks, though."

"Like getting to see Verdoyant in action?"

"Oh, no. I intend to stay close to her. Maybe it's my imagination, but I think she's finally warming up to me."

"Yes, ARC's most prolific mattress is totally into you, but refuses to say anything because she's... what, too shy?"

"Who knows? Maybe attempt 300 will be the charm." Vlad chuckles. "Buckle up. We're here."

The shuttle pulls into an empty lane, touching down with considerably more grace than back at Trog's. Evidently, the lack of an interdimensional jump made Vlad's job significantly easier.

"The docking authorities should be along any minute now. Assuming there are any."

"Remind me again why you're not parachuting into the city? I mean, if the goal is to sneak around..."

"Not exactly in my best interests. Proper documentation will make my presence here less suspicious; if I do end up being detained at some point, it'll be much easier to avoid any trouble if I have a visa."

Vlad shrugs. "Whatever. It's your vacation."

Klaus grabs his Hotbox and disembarks the shuttle, looking around for any kind of welcoming party. He won't be straying far from the shuttle for now; he's still trying to maintain an honest image, after all.

[Earl of Purple]

Open for Whatever Scene

"Fine, we'll take 'em. But this is really your last chance. Next time, you can't get what we want, we'll put you on the block, and your caravan too." The Guild spokesperson for this caravan is an obese half-orc with dark green skin, wearing a dark grey pinstripe suit under a breastplate and morion helmet, leaning on a nimcha. "Here's the list for what's been asked of us, which we're asking of you. Got it?" The half-orc pushes a notepad across the counter, filled with a scrawl listing different types of people and the prices associated with them. He then gestures some bugbears forward, who take the slaves Gharol has brought and direct them into the warehouse for sorting. The batgirl, as well as anyone who isn't destined for transformation, are split off from the rest and sent elsewhere.

BrightStar Spaceport

Shortly after landing, several vehicles race across the shuttlepad towards Klaus' vehicle. The first is a Volkswagen Beetle, the bonnet removed and spare wheel replaced by a chair and desk, in which sits a man in loose robes and swimming goggles. An antique typewriter is bolted to the desk across his lap. Behind it is a pick-up truck with an antique pom-pom gun mounted on the back, which is pointing at the shuttle. Third is a van which has had most of its bodywork removed, leaving it with a flatbed chassis with a seat for the driver, an engine and a single headlight; the back of the vehicle is currently empty besides a pair of men with vacant smiles holding onto a rope tied to the floor.

After they arrive, the Beetle parks close to the shuttle and the man in the front waves a greeting. "Greetings, yes, welcome! Uh, ahoy? Aloha? Bonny jaw? NuqneH?" After receiving confirmation that Klaus speaks English (or doesn't, in which case the man will continue with poorly-pronounced greetings in other languages until he gets a response, and then continue with that language- but he'll say the same message, even if the language is different) "This shuttlepad belongs to the Followers of Joy. You're welcome to land here, but there is a cost associated. One sixteenth of your cargo or five thousand gold per person, per week. A week's the minimum stay, even if you leave before then the price remains. Food, fuel and water cost more, if you need it. If you dislike the price, then we cannot negotiate as we ask for less than any other space port on the city. You could risk a Groundtown landing, but there is little of value to ship out of Groundtown so a new cargo would cost more."

[Ironsmith]

[BrightStar Spaceport]

Vlad leans over to speak with Klaus in a hushed tone. "I don't like the look of these men. Should I bring out Olga?"

"Another time. On my signal, get out of here." Klaus turns and greets the welcoming party. "Ah, yes, good afternoon, my friends." He listens patiently to their terms. "Interesting. You understand, of course, that our cargo manifest is rather... tight." He begins. "A straight split of the cargo would be less than optimal for both of us. We'll need to talk specifics if an arrangement is to be made." He waves back to the shuttle, prompting Vlad to take off. "In any case, it would be rude to take up valuable space while negotiations are ongoing. We were unaware of any docking fees, and for that, you have my apologies."

[5a Violista]

[Open for Whatever Scene]

"Of course," the orclady Gharol says. She still mentally hates how she's the one who has to face these consequences while the person at fault gets away scot-free, but she does her best to not let it show on her face. She is a professional, after all.
She looks at the notepad, and scans down it. She grabs a pen to make notes on it.

"So, we already have this, this, and this one lined up. Could have them here by tomorrow, even, if you want an express delivery. Otherwise, we'll bring them here by next weekend, along with all these." She draws a line, showing which ones she's talking about. She then taps the pen on her chin, and then circles the remainder on the list. "These ones you can expect in a month-and-a-half. With some trade-offs or flexibility, we could deliver them sooner but you'll have to discuss those details with my boss. If you need any of these ones sooner, I'll have him call tonight." And with that, she finally feels some relief: it's no longer on her. It's not even her job in the first place, but it is her boss's job so pushing any negotiations onto him is how it should be, she thinks. She can't wait until he gets the new hire trained and she can go back to investigations and intimidation.


The enslaved people start waking up - chained up - and go in the directions. Gharol mentions that they have a few tanks that could be used to store the soon-to-be-mermaids that they can donate, and sends one of her subordinates along with the bugbears to pay the required cost for each transformation. Most of the people are still a little too tired to even try to resist.


Meanwhile, the batgirl is one of my characters and has already shown up in a couple of scenes before, so she deserves more description. Her claw-feet make it a little hard to walk on two legs, but she still tries to do it anyway. She's got bat ears and two wings (but she also has two arms separate from the wings) which are red-furred...which kind-of goes with her red hair. And purple fuzzy pajama bottoms and a really torn-up black shirt. Almost its entire back is torn off. She does her best to be calm, but is nowhere near as much of a professional as Gharol is.

[Earl of Purple]

BrightStar Spaceport

As Vlad starts to lift off, the technical fighting vehicle fires a two-pound artillery shell over the top of the shuttle with a distinctive pom. If that doesn't stop the shuttle from taking off, another one is rapidly fired towards the shuttle, and then some more until it's either out of range or shot down. The shells it fires are relatively small and explosive, so they might do some damage- especially if the shuttle isn't military-grade. Any that miss plunge down towards Groundtown, where they probably do quite some damage to the poorly built shacks and slum accomodation.

Klaus, meanwhile, finds that there's now three guns being pointed in his direction, especially if the shuttle has flown off. The typist has pulled out a AER-9 laser pistol, whilst the Beetle's driver has produced a double-barrelled semi-automatic pistol and is leaning out of the driver's side door and pointing it at Klaus. The stripped-down van driver has pulled out a sawn-off shotgun. The driver of the technical hasn't pulled his gun out, neither has the gunner or loader of the vehicle- they're too busy firing at the retreating shuttle. The two men on the back of the van also don't produce guns, still standing there holding the rope. One is smiling vacantly at Klaus, the other is slack-jawed and gazing at the floor. "No? Don't know how shuttle-docks work where you're from, then. If they ain't charging all who stop at 'em, how're they affording to keep the place guarded? Buy fuel for the fire engines, get lekky for the lights so's you can land whenever and not just at day? This en't some field of muck down there." The typist gestures with the gun at the edge of the city, scorn in his voice at the unfortunates who live on the earth below. "We's got standards. It's not a dockin' fee, it's a landin' one. We do it in weeks cos it takes a couple days to find a new cargo, if'n yer shuttle were looking. But it ain't, and it's scarpered, so you still owe us ten grand. Five for you, five for the bloke what flew off. Make it twelve, for the inconvenience of havin' to keep a pad empty so's your mate can come back an' pick you up. An' he will, or we'll have t' try an' make that back with you. Guild won't pay that much, so it's labour fer you- if you don't pay."

Open For Whatever

The half-orc nods his assent and smiles at Gharol. "Glad to hear it. Those timings you've got are near-perfect, gives us time to empty out some stock. Now, uh, you want a drink later? There's a bar I know, runs gladiator fights sometimes. Beer's OK, too, y'know." It seems he's not as professional as the caravan supervisor, and somehow thinks he can get a date with Gharol despite threatening her with enslavement five minutes earlier.

The bat-girl and some of the other slaves are directed into a warehouse by the bugbears, where they're rather roughly pushed into cages. Each cage houses one person, causing a pair of twins to start crying as they're split up and forced into cages opposite each other, so they can't even hold hands through the bars. An early-middle-age woman wearing a long red dress is walking along one side, stopping in front of every cage and gesturing the occupant forward before reaching out to put her hand on their forehead. There's a red glow and she makes a note in a book before moving on to the next cage. On the opposite side, a similar woman in a blue dress is doing the same, except her glow is blue. The woman in red stops outside the bat's cage, and gestures her forward. If the batgirl obeys, the spell the woman uses reads her biology and health, making sure that the batgirl is fit and healthy.

[Ironsmith]

[BrightStar Spaceport]

"Ten gra- you philistine!" Klaus snaps. "Your trigger-happy friend over there might have just cost me billions." He sighs and slicks back his hair, making an effort to appear as though he were genuinely distressed by the (mostly ineffectual) shots at his shuttle and only reluctantly calming down at the threat of impending lethal force. "Do you know what I have on board that shuttle? A 2128 Ferrari, cherry red, in mint condition. They don't make that car on my homeworld anymore, let alone replacement parts! It's a priceless antique, and if you've so much as cracked a rim on it with your reckless-... one second." Klaus touches his finger to his ear, in the exact same gesture he would use to trigger a subdermal communicator.

"Talk to me, Lustig. What's the damage? ...Uh-huh. That doesn't sound so... oh. Is the engine block intact? Thank god. All right, get back to Inside, see what you can salvage." He sighs and drops his hand. "I'm going to have to have words with your superior, sir. The way I figure it, you owe me a lot of credits."

That oughta do it. Klaus thought to himself. He was acting like an idiot- a rich, entitled idiot. An easy person to manipulate and push around, and a valuable commodity besides.

[5a Violista]

[Open for Whatever]

Gharol breathes out and thinks about it. "I don't drink while on the job," is her immediate response.

On the other hand, watching gladiator fights sound really enticing right now. She's sick of watching dogfights and wants to watch some honest-to-goodness fighting. And after taking over Mr. Coward-Shades's job for the week and dealing with all the consequences of his failure, she deserves a break. "Luckily," she says, "I only have one more thing to do after this delivery is finished and certified. Once everything is done and my men are headed home, I'll be off the clock. Once everything is done, okay. Yeah."
Gharol feels like this has the added benefit of making sure everything gets done faster.



The bat-girl goes into the cage, and so on.
...
She's still pretty sure that this is some kind of hyper-realistic full-dive VR game, even though there's some trashy bits here and there. Like...getting kidnapped by slavers? That's not something people put in their games. Logically, if this is a game, there should be some kind of event to escape or whatever. But, on the other hand, the developers have proved that they don't always follow what would make sense or what would be fun.

She steps forward. No need to intentionally cause problems when there's no foreseeable benefit, probably. Especially because she's worried about what they would do.
She's fit and healthy. Maybe a little hungry; hasn't eaten in a couple days, but not sick. Very much a batgirl, biologically speaking. Pretty fit, too. Athletic, even. Not as strong as a guy, but still pretty decent.

[Earl of Purple]

BrightStar Spaceport

"If we can keep this car goin', a 1976 Volkswagen beetle, you can find bits fer yer fancy motor here. Maybe they's fake or stolen, but they're there. But... you got billions, you say? Yeh, I think the boss might want to talk t' ya. Get on the van, hold the rope. Get them two t' help hold on." The typist puts the laser pistol away, and there's figurative dollar signs in his eyes. They don't usually have any passengers, but then it's also rare that a rich bloke comes along and lets himself get stranded quite like this. The two men on the van will grip Klaus when the driver tells them to, one hand each- the other is still gripping the rope. It takes an unusually long amount of time to get them both to obey the relatively complex instructions of holding Klaus with one hand and the rope with the other. One of the men smells, too. He's soiled himself and nobody's noticed yet.

Open for Whatever Organising a Date

"Sure, later. Did say later, right? Excellent, it's called the Noose and Shackle, it's just around the corner there. How long'll your job take, you reckon? I'll meet you there." The obese half-orc smiles, and gestures towards the pub around the corner.

Guild Warehouse 2B

A few notes are jotted down, and the lady carries on to the other slaves that aren't going for mermaidisation.

There's a brief stint before the woman in blue does the same thing, except rather than checking the bat-girl's biology, she's checking her memories. Not looking at them with detail, just trying to look for what skills and languages the bat-girl knows, and including 'flight' in that. She might be healthy enough to fly, but the slavers want to know if the bat-girl knows how to fly. If she doesn't, then they don't need to make as many precautions about stopping her escaping.

[Ironsmith]

BrightStar Spaceport

"If we can keep this car goin', a 1976 Volkswagen beetle, you can find bits fer yer fancy motor here. Maybe they's fake or stolen, but they're there. But... you got billions, you say? Yeh, I think the boss might want to talk t' ya. Get on the van, hold the rope. Get them two t' help hold on." The typist puts the laser pistol away, and there's figurative dollar signs in his eyes. They don't usually have any passengers, but then it's also rare that a rich bloke comes along and lets himself get stranded quite like this. The two men on the van will grip Klaus when the driver tells them to, one hand each- the other is still gripping the rope. It takes an unusually long amount of time to get them both to obey the relatively complex instructions of holding Klaus with one hand and the rope with the other. One of the men smells, too. He's soiled himself and nobody's noticed yet.

Klaus boards without resistance, cringing in exaggerated disgust as the stoned-out porters grab him. As soon as they're under way, he discretely reaches into his suit jacket and sets his Hotbox to print off a little surprise when they arrive (presumably, that's more than five minutes away yet).

While he's there, he looks over the group again, letting his gaze linger on the equipment that was, by his standards, hilariously outdated. A World War I era anti-aircraft gun was a museum piece, not a weapon. With the exception of the laser pistol, most of what he saw fell into that category; centuries old and practically useless, at least compared to contemporary options. Presumably, they'd picked up most of this gear in the Nexus equivalent of a junkyard, which led Klaus to believe they were not particularly wealthy, even if they were organized; less mafioso and more gangbanger, he thought.

Except for that laser pistol. That implied they might be able to get their hands on more advanced technology, but reserved it for higher-ranking members, like the typist, who was clearly in charge of this particular chapter of... whatever gang this was. That didn't entirely rule out the "all gear is scavenged" theory, since the Nexus clearly still touched more advanced societies (like his), but it did make figuring out the exact size and scope of the operation a touch more difficult.

Still, it was enough to get the vague notion of a plan forming in his head. By the time they arrived, he would know what to do.

[5a Violista]

[Open for Whatever]
Organising a Date

Gharol thinks about what she has to do. It's not hard to plan out, since it's actually pretty basic, just buying some supplies. "Two hours," she says, matter-of-factly. "That's not including anything else that has to be wrapped up here, like paying for the mermaid transformations." That should be simple enough; she told her subordinate to take care of it all, making sure they're not getting taken advantage of and paying for it all, and so on.

Guild Warehouse 2B

The bat-girl knows a handful of languages: mostly romance languages. English, yeah, but also French, Spanish, and Portuguese. Pretty decent at cooking, wilderness survival skills, cleaning, maths, fixing things up.

Most relevantly, flight: yeah, she knows how to fly. Only so-so at it, though. Plus, she doesn't know how to take off from the ground. (But that's okay because she's pretty phenomenal at climbing and good at swimming, and so could start flying if there's something high enough. Could possibly even take off from swimming, if only she was a little faster and better at swimming.)

She's okay at fighting, too, but honestly it's comparable to her skill in flying, and she would probably lose to anyone who has actual decent experience. Or super strength. Or just better-than-average strength.

[Earl of Purple]

BrightStar Spaceport --> Followers of Joy Temple of Lead

They travel quite quickly, or at least at speed, to the edge of the spaceport. There's a drop-down gate blocking the way onto the main road. The gatepost is defended by a sandbagged gun emplacement with a literal cannon pointing down the road; chips in the road surface and buildings suggest that it's been used before, and is loaded with grapeshot or some equivalent. The gunners also carry bolt-action rifles. After they go through the gate, the crude convoy head through the empty streets (there's few ground vehicles in this part of Skyside, due to the expense of bringing one up from the ground and then providing it with fuel) towards a warehouse, and the vehicles are driven inside. It probably takes about ten minutes, all told. Inside, about a quarter of the space is being used as storage, with pallets of boxes piled in the corner. Most of the remaining space is dominated by a bullet factory which probably looks quite crude, with slack-jawed workers each working on casting, loading and other parts of the bullet-making procedure. The guards here are armed with automatic rifles, and they're wearing body armour as well as a mix of old clothing and robes. Their guns are all in very good condition, and each guard also carries a pistol- again, usually a solid-shot weapon, but given they're making bullets here that's probably more practical- and a bayonet or short sword.

Three people approach. One, an elderly man in blue silk pantaloons and a loose green silk shirt, with a large stiff lace ruff around his neck, leaning on an ebony walking stick, has tattoos covering every visible inch of his face and hands, so many it's hard to make out details. Following him are two large, muscular people who are probably bodyguards, wearing riot gear and face-concealing helmets. One carries a grenade rifle and the other carries a two-handed polearm with a buzz saw blade, whirring slowly at the moment. "What are you here for? You're supposed to stay at the spaceport. The Dockside Danglers and the Rivetted Rat Lads both want that place for the income, and you're the site boss." The old man speaks first, voice hard and dark blue eyes cold.
"Yes, yer holiness, sorry yer holiness. This guy's got stones, wanted t' meet. His ship flew off an' left him, without payin', and he said his cargo were a car worth billions. Now he's here, an' his mate's gone, an' he owes us landin' fees, don't he?" The typist doesn't get out of his seat, and jabs a thumb at Klaus as he speaks.

Open for Whatever Preparing for a Date

"Then I will see you there. I look forward to it." But if this part of the scene continues it's because Thursday wants to make Gharol more of a character than she is already.

Guild Warehouse 2B

Well, that is handy. Notes are made, but this is Skyside. She can always find a height. So care will have to be taken.

Now she's going to be left for a while, as are the other slaves. A female bugbear wearing a leather dress and a bonnet pushing a trolley comes by, stopping at the cages and pushing a bowl of nutritiously-valuable soup through a slit in the doors, with bread for eating it with. Once she's eaten, the bugbear will take the bowl away again and another group of female bugbears appears. This group carry cattleprods and wear brigandines, and they're getting some of the female slaves- including the batgirl- out of their cages and leading them to a communal shower, where they're told to strip and get washed. One of the girls, a red-headed half-elf, complains and doesn't want to take her dress off; she's jabbed once and thrown under the water wearing the dress as the bugbears laugh.

[Ironsmith]

[Temple of Lead]

Klaus gives a little wave. "Good afternoon. You must be this boss I've heard so much about." He reaches into his jacket and produces a package of cigarettes. "Your associate here is quite correct. By my reckoning, once my landing fee and the damages to my cargo are accounted for, your organization owes me the loose equivalent of 3.2 million credits." He shakes out a cigarette from the box and nestles it between his lips before continuing. "But, let it never be said that Niklaus Irving Quire is an unreasonable man. I'm sure we can come to a reasonable settlement." He smirks. "Does anyone have a light?"

[5a Violista]

[Open for Whatever]
Noose and Shackle

Gharol looks pretty much the same as she did a few hours ago. Tall, muscular, orc woman. She wrapped up everything, bought what they needed, and sent the caravan back to that fishing/trade city located near the ocean, on the river. She also called to inform her gnomish boss that she'll be back in a few days, that she's taking her vacation now, and when she gets back she will go back to her actual job trying to infiltrate and take down their dogfighting competitors. Let him sweat it out as she's not there, to remind him that he better make a new hire ASAP rather than just depending on her to do something that isn't actually her job.

She gets there and looks around for the obese half-orc. Honestly, not her type, but still closer than all of her other choices. Maybe if he were more effeminate and smaller, he would be better.

She finds him and sits across from him. "As of ten minutes ago, I am off the clock," she says, informing him.


Guild Warehouse 2B

The batgirl goes along. She eats, she goes to the shower. It becomes apparent rather quickly why her shirt's torn up: it wasn't originally designed for wings, which makes it particularly hard and slow to take off. She's probably rather lucky the half-elf is drawing their attention instead, because she imagines she would be the target instead, given how long it takes to get it past the wings.

She feels sorry for the half-elf....and everyone else too, to be honest, but she's not really sure there's anything she can do.

Once ready, she goes under the water.

[Zefir]

[OPEN SCENE]

A rumor has been spread around town. A mysteriouse man seeks for some willing people to test a new medicine. The medicine is meant to grant great powers, but also has a little disadvantage. Like you get an extrem regeneration but need to smoke after using it. There is no guarantee what you get, some say it can even prevent you from dying, but either way it has an effect. Only a few have been heared of to try it, but non of them is in Skyside anymore. The figure has been seen in:

[Shady Tavern]

Nothing suggests this is a tavern. More like a living room rebuild with a bar. Still this place is fine if you don't want to have bypassers coming in. the shady figure is in a corner drinking and waiting for some people to fall for the rumor. Those who enter will find a rather normal bar scene with people drinking and barman do barstuff. Yet all of them are under the controll of the shady figure. Just in case.

[Shadowcaller]

SPAAAAACE!

The tech-priestess helps guide the party to the vessel's Engineerium, the beating heart that powers the massive vessel. They pass more dead as they go, all human or hybrids; none of the purestrain genestealers have fallen victim to whatever chemical was added to the air supply.

After about fifteen minutes (the ship's large, and they're walking) they'll find another point of interest- a small waste disposal facility, where water is filtered from the waste products of higher decks and everything filtered out of the water is sent lower to the bilges. There's two dead servitors here, and three cultists lying on the floor. The chamber, unfortunately, smells quite bad; so bad the cultists are all wearing rebreathers, though they didn't help against the contaminant which killed them. The reason why this point is interesting, however, is the hullghast. It's a humanoid ship-vermin, slender and short with blank skin where its eyes should be and a pallid complexion. It's naked, save a coating of filth, and armed with a length of corroded pipe ending in a sharpened point. It stands in the furthest point of the chamber to the route the Tech-Priestess is taking the party, and hisses, holding its crude spear up in a threat gesture. It's been feeding on the corpses, ripping them apart with its slender hands and claws- it has six fingers on each- and dislocating its jaw to swallow its meaty meal. The priestess ignores it, and the gunners will point guns at it but not fire- it doesn't seem hostile, and there could be more about.

The hullghast has more of the chemical that Zee detected in its body, but not in the lungs- the creature's large nose managed to filter the stuff out before it reached the lungs and killed it. She might learn more from it, if she can get close without getting stabbed.

[SPAAAAACE!]

Oh.

Well.

That's interesting, isn't it?

Why was the ghast able to filter the toxin but everyone else wasn't?

Zee raises one hand.

"Hold up. The toxin didn't kill this creature. I'm going to find out why," she says, holstering her tonfa and approaching the creature at a measured pace.

Given that she's wearing no armor to speak of this might strike some onlookers as a bad idea. Of course Minerva has already seen that the "psycher" is far more resilient than she has any business being, so maybe she'll be able to prevent the mercs from shooting the creature up?

[SPAAAAACE!]

Minerva couldn't tell a 'purebreed' from a hybrid so she certainly couldn't tell even after seeing so many of their corpses.
Nor did she particularly care at the moment. If they succeded everything on board this ship would be dead anyway soon.
Still, despite her lack of scholarly curiosity she still saw value in investigating xenos and mutants before they killed them. She didn't have the education to do so but she knew others like Zee did. "Let her go, she knows what she's doing." She orders the others while stopping ahead of the others to led Zee do her little investigating. "You got a few minutes. We can't linger." She still reminds Zee before she is too far away.

[Earl of Purple]

Temple of Lead

"I am Father Plumbum of the Temple of Lead, honcho of the Followers of Joy. These are my bodyguards, Chang and Eng. I do not know how much a... credit... is. We do not deal in electronic funds. Alas, nobody here has a light. Naked flames are forbidden. We do not want a spark or carelessly disposed of cigarette butt igniting the powder of the bullet factory." A reasonable reason why one shouldn't smoke in a bullet factory, though technically I think they are making cartridges here rather than just the bullet. "Follow me to my sanctum, where we can discuss the matter of who owes what like civilised people, over a decanter of rum." The elderly gentleman- or perhaps not 'gentle'man- turns and gestures to be followed, walking to a door as the vehicles reverse out and the typist and his convoy return to the BrightStar Spaceport. The door is a pretty plain fire door, though opening it reveals an unusually decorated space, the bare concrete walls covered by hanging paintings and thick Persian rugs over the floor; a keen eye might note all the artwork on the walls are fakes or copies of more famous works. There's a space where instead of a painting a massive plasma television hangs on the wall, hooked up to a Sega Saturn. The two bodyguards stand outside the door, as Father Plumbum sits behind a plain steel table draped with the skin of a khajiit, settling into an office chair. He'll reach under the table and put two silver goblets on the table, one fancier than the other, pouring dark rum into both before pushing both over to Klaus.

SPAAAAAACE!

The Gunners will cover Zee's approach to the Hullghast. The degenerate abhuman hisses again as Zee gets close enough for it to smell her clearly and raises its spear higher, ready to thrust. It survived because its considerable nose is filled with fine hairs and mucous glands, secreting a thick sludge that drips from its nose occasionally, taking a host of vile and toxic pollutants with it. This thing, whilst less hardy than a purestrain genestealer, has a far more robust physiology than a human; it's even able to survive without breathable air for most of a day, and the chemical that murdered the ship's crew by clogging their ability to take up oxygen did not last that long before denaturing and disappearing into the standard atmospheric makeup of a human-crewed space vessel. Its lungs are large, its mucous thick and able to absorb most air-borne toxins before they enter the bloodstream, its liver is large and it has developed a third kidney to help filter its blood of anything that would kill it. Despite all these adaptations, this particular hullghast has not been thriving until recently, and it's not healthy. Not diseased; there's few diseases that can harm one of these, but it's suffering from pollutant build up and radiation sickness as well as hunger. The amount of pollutants and radiation in its body, however, is enough to kill nearly all the Gunners behind Zee.

Noose & Shackle

The half-orc- I'll call him Thaddimire- has changed into a looser ensemble of cream canvas trousers and a dark blue t-shirt, though he's kept the breastplate and morion. "I am glad you could make it. My name is Thddimire. My friends call me Thadd." His enemies tend to call him 'thud', due to his obesity.

He'll order drinks- a beer for him, whatever Gharol wants for her. On the stage at the far end, a scribe with ink-stained hands wearing loose black robes and armed with an oversized pen is being hacked to pieces by a large, muscular human-ish woman armed with a two-handed sword.

Guild Warehouse 2B

One of the bugbears will rip the pyjama shirt off if it takes too long for the bat-girl to take if off normally, not caring about the fabric. They aren't intending on giving her the same item back, that's for sure.

Instead, after the shower, one of the bugbears tosses a white bikini at the batgirl, the top stringy enough that it should work around her wings. She's left alone for a few minutes as she dries off and gets dressed, in which she might note that the showers come in two sizes, and she might be able to climb onto the lower one to reach the top shower and then a small open window, and fly off. She hasn't got long, though, before one of the guards comes back to find her.

[Ironsmith]

Temple of Lead

"I am Father Plumbum of the Temple of Lead, honcho of the Followers of Joy. These are my bodyguards, Chang and Eng. I do not know how much a... credit... is. We do not deal in electronic funds. Alas, nobody here has a light. Naked flames are forbidden. We do not want a spark or carelessly disposed of cigarette butt igniting the powder of the bullet factory." A reasonable reason why one shouldn't smoke in a bullet factory, though technically I think they are making cartridges here rather than just the bullet. "Follow me to my sanctum, where we can discuss the matter of who owes what like civilised people, over a decanter of rum." The elderly gentleman- or perhaps not 'gentle'man- turns and gestures to be followed, walking to a door as the vehicles reverse out and the typist and his convoy return to the BrightStar Spaceport. The door is a pretty plain fire door, though opening it reveals an unusually decorated space, the bare concrete walls covered by hanging paintings and thick Persian rugs over the floor; a keen eye might note all the artwork on the walls are fakes or copies of more famous works. There's a space where instead of a painting a massive plasma television hangs on the wall, hooked up to a Sega Saturn. The two bodyguards stand outside the door, as Father Plumbum sits behind a plain steel table draped with the skin of a khajiit, settling into an office chair. He'll reach under the table and put two silver goblets on the table, one fancier than the other, pouring dark rum into both before pushing both over to Klaus.

[Temple of Lead]

"Pity. They're terribly convenient." Klaus mutters to himself as he follows Father Plumbum into the sanctum. It was just as well he wasn't able to light up yet; the cigarette contained a gram and a half of strychnine; several hundred times a lethal dose. The intent was to use it as a discrete, gas-based weapon, but its effectiveness would be limited in such an open area. The sanctum seemed more ideal, aside from being further from the entrance. And the fact that he didn't have any particular protection for himself. Oh, well; he still had it on hand in case he needed it.

"Now, to business." Klaus says, picking up the less ornate of the two cups, not taking a drink yet. He already had a habit of sobriety; mixing that with a known hostile and having poison on the brain meant he dared not drink ao much as a sip.

"Now, I couldn't help but notice that your men are riding around in... shall we say, antiques?" He begins. "Antiques which are, as you might have noticed, not always especially effective. Yet at the same time, they're valuable to the right buyers. Get them to a musuem, and an upgrade to your operations pays for itself."

[5a Violista]

Noose & Shackle

"Well met, Thadd," she says. "And of course you already know, but I'm Gharol. Named for my grandmother Gharoline, but she was weak."

She gets the same drink, and watches the fight. While it's not the most interesting fight, it's still satisfying to watch. "i make it a policy to only talk about work when I'm getting paid for it," she cautions him, letting him know her conversation preferences in advance. "What's it like living here in a large city like Skyside?" Gharol asks. "The town I live in only seems big because of how much trade goes through it on the way to Riverside and Inside, but it's still little more than a fishing village with a bloated downtown."


Warehouse 2B

No! She loved that shirt. It was a really nice material that dried off quickly and felt good in the sun. Besides, she doesn't think she looks good in white and she's never worn something that skimpy in public. And it completely highlights all her tan lines and exposes all her freckles. Sure, this is just a game so it doesn't count, she tries to convince herself, but it definitely feels real enough so . . .why would they bother modeling this much detail in a dumb VR game? It must have a pretty good engine to be able to model all her freckles. Predictive freckle design, or something? How much processing power went into checking her memories for the location of every last freckle? She feels like she would literally die if someone she knew saw her dressed like this.

Once she gets 'dressed' again, the batgirl realizes that she's alone.

And there's a window.

Will her wings be able to fit through the window? No, there's no time to think about it all.

The batgirl hops up to put her arms up to the smaller shower, and pulls herself up. Her hands are a little wet, but she hopes that's not a problem. She readies herself to reach the next one, and then she's almost there: the window's in reach...

[Earl of Purple]

Temple of Lead Sanctum

"You can say antiques. I'll say they're the cheapest and easiest to repair stuff we can ship up. Don't know where- or when- you're from, but selling them to a museum's only a good idea if you can afford to ship them to where they're rare. Here, they're plentiful, cheap and often stolen. We've got a car round back, we'll give it to you to to, ah, repay the damage to your car. Though you do still owe us for using our landing pad. Twelve thousand gold coins, that should cover it." Father Plumbum takes the goblet of rum that Klaus didn't and takes a drink. It's poison free, as Klaus was given the choice of goblet, so they couldn't have been poisoned, and now the Father has taken a sip he's demonstrated the drink itself is also poison-free, at least theoretically.

Noose & Shackle

"Of course, I would not expect anything else. Work is work; this is relaxation time. Not a great fight, is it? This one's not for entertainment. This one's a warning. The lad was a scribe, working in the logistics of supplying one of our outposts. He was caught stealing from the Guild. Next fight'll be better, hopefully. Got a newcomer, we'll see if she's any good. What do you do when you're not working?" The beers arrive, and Thadd takes a long swig straight from the bottle.

Meanwhile, the barbarian lady leans on her sword at one end of the stage whilst the remains of the poor scribe are dragged away and sawdust is spread over the bloodstains. Next up is a red-haired half-elf wearing a literal chainmail bikini, looking nervous but determined; she's not armed with a greatsword, but a small buckler and a long dagger.

Guild Warehouse 2B

Not only does the game model every single one of the batgirl's freckles, it accurately maps them to her body, too.

The window looks quite a tight squeeze, but the grip's good enough she can get up there and fit through. If she goes ahead with it, she can see through the window- a narrow alleyway with a small shed at one end, the other end leading to the Street of Slavers. There's a woman just inside that end of the alleyway, leaning against the wall and smoking a pipe. She's wearing a steel cuirass over a black hoody and jeans, and she has a set of bolas hanging at her waist. If the batgirl squeezes through, she could either try the shed for a hiding place or try flying off- though the alleyway might not be wide enough for her to spread her wings. Or she could try climbing up the walls and reaching the roof and flying off.

[Ironsmith]

[Temple of Lead Sanctum]

"That sounds... reasonable." Klaus replies, producing the cigarette again. "I can arrange payment within the hour. But, before I do, I have a hypothetical scenario I want to run by you." He hands Father Plumbum the unlit cigarette. "Take a whiff of that. What do you smell?"

[Earl of Purple]

Temple of Lead Sanctum

Father Plumbum takes the cigarette and holds it under his nose, giving it a sniff. "I smell nothing. Not even tobacco. I assume you wanted to burn it to kill everyone? Releasing a toxic smoke in the factory? Subtle. In the Temple of Flesh, that would even have worked, but Matron Desire did not need to worry about sparks blowing her up. You have no concern, then, for our slaves? You are a harsher man than most, who sit opposite me complaining about damages." One of the bodyguards walks over, the one with the circular saw-spear, flipping a switch to start the motor and revving it up to speed. A far less subtle threat.

[Ironsmith]

[Temple of Lead Sanctum]

"Father, I have made a career out of snuffing out lives others find troublesome." Klaus replies calmly, seeming unperturbed by the bodyguard. "Do you really think I would have lasted more than a year if I gave a damn how many 'innocents' were caught in the crossfire?" He makes a gesture to the guard that says something to the effect of "go away, the adults are talking". "This is not a threat, Father. This is a statement of quality." He leans back in his chair with a smirk. "Every man has enemies, and one would expect, you more than most."

"So, what I want to know is this: which would you like to see dead first?"

[Earl of Purple]

Temple of Lead Sanctum

"I have many enemies. But you are new to this city and I do not know if I can trust you. I do not even know, not for certain, that this cigarette is toxic. Fetch one of the workers." The last sentence is directed at the grenade launcher-armed bodyguard, which nods its head and leaves the room.

The one with the buzz-saw polearm does not move the weapon, remaining behind Klaus with the whirring blade.

"I could say the head of the Rivetted Rat Lads, but I know not who they are. Or Sparkle the Axe, leader of the Dockside Boys. But if either of them die, it would inevitably come back to me, or at least the Followers of Joy, and spark a gang war that we are not well-positioned for. Unless... Unless Sparkle's underlings fought for her position, rather than go for us. I could also say Shunt, a super who has not caused me any trouble. He is responsible for Matron Desire going into hiding and closing the Temple of Flesh, however. I was planning on holding you to ransom, and make a lot of money that way. But now I fear that course of action is too dangerous, so I'm contemplating just killing you. It depends on how the cigarette goes." There's a moment where Klaus can try to argue his case, if he wants to stay alive. The bodyguard does not return with a worker immediately.

[Ironsmith]

[Temple of Lead Sanctum]

Klaus falls silent, a horrified look slowly working its way onto his face. Father Plumbum had a point, of course; Klaus was new, with no reputation to speak of yet. Of course Plumbum didn't trust him... though then again, the man didn't seem to trust anyone he couldn't control. "I... I see." Klaus says finally, snapping his cigarette in half and pouring its contents into his rum glass.

[5a Violista]

Noose & Shackle

"Sometimes a bloodbath is entertaining in its own way," Gharol says. But, yes, she agrees. That fight wasn't as entertaining as she had wanted. That scribe wasn't even putting up a fight.

Once the fight clearly isn't going to go anywhere, Gharol draws her attention away from it.
"Exercise, mostly. Have memberships in a few gyms, so I spend most my free time there."
She then realized that's probably a really boring answer. "My friend recently invited me to join her at nightclubs," she then adds. "Tonight was supposed to be the first time I went with her."

Gharol sighs and takes a big drink, too, though not quite as long as Thadd's.

She glances at the new gladiator. "I hope this one isn't as one-sided as the last."


[Guild Warehouse 2B]

If this whole world wasn't so obviously a poorly-balanced incomplete game, the weirdly accurate graphics would make a girl start to doubt that she's just in some virtual world. Or is it precise graphics? One of those two. No time to think about it right now.

The batgirl shakes her head and gets through the window, and then looks.

The alley is clearly too small to fly out. Maybe if she was better at flying, she could do it. But, even then, she's not anywhere near good enough to get away from that lady with that throwing thing.

She glances upwards, considering climbing up and flying in another direction.
...
No. They probably have someone stationed on the roof, too. That's how these sorts of stealth missions always turn out.

No, her best chance is probably that shed. She could make them think she flew away while waiting for them to stop being on high alert. And there's probably some kind of weapon or camera system or something she can use in there that will help her get away. Also probably some better clothes, too.

She climbs down (not jumping because that would be too loud and draw too much attention) and creeps towards the shed.

Once there, she tries to open it and go inside, while looking back down the alley, praying she didn't get noticed.

[Earl of Purple]

Temple of Lead Sanctum

Father Plumbum tuts when the cigarette is added to the rum. "A waste of good rum." He doesn't otherwise comment, however.

The bodyguard with the grenade launcher reappears, the weapon slung over its back on a sling. They're leading a worker by the hand. The worker is a man in his thirties, with unkempt hair, wearing a loose robe. He's smiling a little vaguely and is pushed gently towards the table. "Take the rum and drink. Let me know how it tastes... if you can remember how to talk." The man does as he's told, but doesn't say anything comprehensible.

Noose & Shackle

"Oh, I'm sorry. I did not know you had plans." Thadd grins anyway, though. He now thinks Gharol is happier with him than with the unnamed female friend with whom she'd be clubbing with ordinarily. "It shouldn't be, but we don't know. The redhead's new, this is her first fight on the stage here. I've made some bets on her, I think she has what it takes to be tonight's champion and stay on the stage. If that happens, she'll be taken back stage for some rest and recuperation, maybe re-equipped, and sent back out. If she's not defeated by the end of the night, I win." If it doesn't, he loses and that's not something he's too looking forward to.

The barbarian lady hefts her massive sword before charging in, swinging down. The half-elf dodges out of the way, deflecting the greatsword with her little shield so it thuds solidly into the wooden stage, before slashing with her knife at the barbarian's hand. Some fingers go flying and the barbarian screams, leaving the sword lodged in the floor and charging bare-handed. The half-elf, expecting the fight over with the barbarian's injury, is pulled into a tight hug, and lifted from the ground, the barbarian delivering a brutal headbutt and smashing the half-elf's nose. In response, the smaller woman is able to cut the barbarian's arm with her dagger.

Guild Warehouse 2B

They do, in fact, have someone stationed on the roof.

The shed isn't locked, and the batgirl can break in! Inside, it's surprisingly roomy; maybe she's entered a new area and the internal space doesn't match the external space? That's often an issue with video games. Didn't see a loading screen, though. There's a bunch of large glass tanks half-full of water against one wall, all on wheeled carts, and a larger door at one end. There's a large wooden crate opposite one of the tanks, with some cloth inside it; if she looks, it's scrap cloth. Some of it looks quite decent, but there's nothing wearable in there- it's clothes that have been cut or ripped, probably from people that had been wearing it. She might be able to hide in there, though. Should it be necessary.

[Ironsmith]

[Temple of Lead Sanctum]

Klaus sits and waits anxiously. The rum was definitely poisoned, but the worker wouldn't be able to tell that immediately, since the poison is tasteless. That man was definitely going to die, choking as his lungs refused to work. What worries him was that this was going to happen about ten to twenty minutes from now, and there was no gaurantee Father Plumbum was going to be that patient. The prudent move now would be to stall for time.

"You know, that's been a point of curiosity." He begins, pointing at the man. "This gentleman here, along with the two in the motorcade, have seemed... lacking, cognitively speaking. Handiwork of yours?"

[Earl of Purple]

Temple of Lead Sanctum

"Yes and no. We keep 'em compliant by giving them something called Pacifism. Stops them getting angry and weakens their will, so they're more likely to do what they're told. It wears off, though, so they need dosing regularly. Eventually they start to forget other stuff, and if we're lucky we can wean them off it and keep 'em alive. If we're not, they forget how to breathe before anything else. He's forgotten how to form words by the sound of it. Could speak last week, when we tried weaning him off it. He went berserk and killed another worker with his bare hands. Don't know why, it happens sometimes. All that repressed aggression comes flooding back. If we keep you hostage for ransom, we'll lace your food with it so you don't escape. The risk of that is low, for a few days or a week. Most of our workers we've had months or years." Flaws in the drug they use, but it's generally better for them than not using it since they can keep basically slaves and not have to worry about rebellions or escapes.

[Ironsmith]

[Temple of Lead Sanctum]

"I... see." Klaus replies. That rose some implications about the dichotomy Plumbum had presented him with. Clearly, if the poison didn't work, the intent would be to keep him sedated, since he wouldn't be that dangerous and yet still valuable. On the other hand, if it worked, and it would... well, Plumbum had promised one of the outcomes would result in his death.

"About that." He begins, reaching into his jacket to retrieve another cigarette (and discretely set his Hotbox to print off something else that might help him). "Who, exactly, did you plan to ransom me to? I have associates, obviously, but I sincerely doubt you have any way of knowing who they are, especially if I'm not lucid when you ask."