Outside 51: It's just a weather balloon

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
According to Freud, lots of people have feelings towards their parents. But A: Lizzie's never heard of him, and B: She's had enough experience poking around in people's minds to know that's not actually a common thing at all. She probably can't make Miranda tempt Sekhmet that way... But maybe a different option. If she pushes on those familial-ish bonds, maybe she could convince Miranda to be a minion? That would lead to a different sort of corruption, but it might work out in the end.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

He killed his own people.

Over the mistreatment of one?

Or perhaps many.

Who knows how many innocents had been tortured to death at Northwatch?

"That seems uncharacteristically charitable of you," Fenris admits, flashing a ghost of a smile.

Not the sort of typical charity, mind. The kind where you give away a gold coin and get rewarded by the Divines for your generosity.

"It was my brother that saw me return to Skyrim. I received a letter from my mother regarding the situation and her suspicions. In spite of the closed boarder and the bad blood between myself and my father, I still came home. I very nearly didn't. I wonder if Fenris Gray-Mane is still in Cyrodil, in your echo of Nirn."

She gives the Mer an inquisitive look. "What lead you to turn on the Thalmor in Skyrim? Was it this wasting of lives you were witnessing? Or... maybe something more personal? That they saw you at Helgan but did nothing to see you freed?"

[Thrakeld]

"Northwatch was about much more than Thorald Gray-Mane." Yuvan confirms. "I did not do it for him, specifically. I did it to establish a principle to the Thalmor; the Dragonborn would not tolerate the torture of innocents." He stiffens. "I had intended to spare any who stood by and allowed Thorald to be released. Unfortunately, no such number existed. I suspect that may have marred my message."

The altmer releases Fenris's shoulder and turns way from her. This next part is usually easier to say when he's not making eye contact. "...I'm certain it's easy for you to oppose the Thalmor." He begins bluntly. "What conviction of principle it must take, hating someone who has only ever harmed you and your kin. What intellect, to see so clearly what they have done, when you don't hear their grand speeches or see their parades. To not have your soul electrified with talk of greatness and glory, a rebuilt Dominion, another merethic era, ushered in by brave and stalwart souls like you, the chosen people, the cultured people, the only people. How compassionate you must be, to extend aid to those you have never believed to be below yourself, you have never seen as an enemy, as opposition to the goal to which you have devoted your considerable lifespan."

There's a creaking of leather and metal as Yuvan's fists clench. "...To have known, before the Thalmor come for you, the full implications of their dogma." He seethes, an undercurrent of venom in his voice. "If not for Alduin's intervention, I would have died a zealot, and the last words my lips would form would have been 'glory to the Dominion'. I would have seen my death as a necessity, as a final act of service toward bringing about the new age. And yet, when the dragon attacked, it was not the Thalmor with their magics and might and their visions of a shining new era of elven solidarity who saved me. It was a pair of men, of nords, men who..." He momentarily stumbles on his words. "...who had no reason to care what happened to me. I do not know what became of Ralof of Riverwood. But Hadvar... he and his uncle took me into their home. His family fed and clothed me, and offered me a bed. Even the little one was unafraid." He gives a short, amused snort. "You should have heard what she said when we first met. 'Papa says I'm too friendly to strangers, but you seem all right.' As though I had not been working tirelessly to bring about her end."

"...I wish I could say I knew then that the Thalmor had the wrong of it. But that was the day I first started to doubt their intentions. How could we look upon such people and call them an enemy?" He shakes his head sadly. "So when I learned I was Dragonborn, I knew I could not turn that power over to the Dominion. They did not take that well. We have been opposed ever since."

Shuttle to L1
According to Freud, lots of people have feelings towards their parents. But A: Lizzie's never heard of him, and B: She's had enough experience poking around in people's minds to know that's not actually a common thing at all. She probably can't make Miranda tempt Sekhmet that way... But maybe a different option. If she pushes on those familial-ish bonds, maybe she could convince Miranda to be a minion? That would lead to a different sort of corruption, but it might work out in the end.

[Shuttle to L1]

"Minion" is probably not the right word. Miranda seems to reject it even in her sleep. But she does latch on tightly to the notion of loyalty to Sekhmet. Maybe not as a nominal subordinate, but... well, if her mother asked for her help, she wouldn't say no, so why would she say it to better mother?

[Shadowcaller]

"An exchange of planets. The logistic implications there are astounding." And the moons are being left behind, Jaccalish implied? The possibilities are endless. The stakes of this whole things have just gone up.

"At that distance, the gravitational disturbances should be minor, even trivial depending on when in their respective orbits - this world and yours - the switch happens. Perhaps not so for the satellites, but that shouldn't...be much of a problem." If you can arrange for planets to change places, is it that much harder to arrange for a moon to be thrown at the Nexus like a cannonball, just as a coincidental side effect? That could put even their most far-flung cluster in danger.

Nathan lifts a hand slightly.
"Two reasons for asking. We would not like to see your species destroyed or imperiled if there should be disaster in the process. For the same reason, we hope to have some of the living to study or keep, irrespective of this plan."
"Secondly, there is the manner of what happens next if you succeed. With access to a sun, will you still be operating here on Nexus Prime? Will you focus on rebuilding, or will your military begin a new sort of invasion? The very fact that it is a strategic value suggests dangers to the rest of us."
"Of course you are concerned only with the survival of civilization, but that is not the priority of every group, is it?"

[Temple Site]

"Anyone that doesn't have that priority is no ally of us." Jaccalish declares in a factual manner. "Too much have been lost to do anything else at this point. Either we get in line or we face extinction. It's as simple as that." They wave their claw-like appendage. "But we digress. In fact, 'extinction' might come across as overly dramatic as we don't have any clear statistics of our numbers as one of our survival tactics have been to spread out as to make sure our enemies cannot target all of us ever again. But I can tell you that while there's little more than a hundred of our people on this plane, spread across various factions, there are at least hundred of thousands still alive on our world." Jaccalish pause again as if to empathize the significance of what they just said.

"We are sure you understand the significance of those numbers."

[A Hunter must Hunt Kows]

Mimi rolls her eyes at Anika's exclamation. Giants are always so loud. She darts off after Anika. "They don't turn around very past. I best we can run behind them." She suggests as they move.

[A Hunter must Hunt Kows]

The saber nods in response and starts to move in a wide arc around the rightmost metal demon as they get out into barren field the creatures have left in their wake.
As they get out in the open red lights on the demons side, perhaps the fiends bizarre eyes or some foul magic it has started to conjure, start to illuminate the field around them and it suddenly screams out in a horrific cacophony.

It isn't even clear where the sound is coming from as its maw is still preoccupied with devouring everything in its path. Horrifically mangling all vegetation between its scythe-like teeth.

That infernal blaring sound makes even someone as confident as Anika slow down simply to see what was making it. But one glance at the beast simple makes her run faster and soon they start leaving the two monstrosities behind as despite all that ruckus they make no motion to pursue.

That of course begs the question if the creatures had cast some kind of spell on them or if they simply considered Mimi and Anika not worth their time.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
That's okay, Miranda. Sekhmet doesn't like the M word either, not to mention that Lizzie isn't going to call Miranda a minion to her face.
And so, time passes once more.

[Deathkeeper]

[An Improbable Adventure]

Fenris isn't terribly fond of traumatic adventures.

Learning that her brother had been tortured for months was pretty traumatic. She was glad that she was able to free him, at least.

Dancing undead definitely aren't traumatic, though.

The next door opens up into a wider dance floor, the tiles flashing with multi-colors while disco balls rotate at the ceiling. Standing at the back of the room is the necrodancer, wearing an ostentatious outfit of glittering fabric festooned with finger bones. His afro is immaculate. His mustache huge. His sideburns bushy. He's wearing an absolutely absurd-sized pendant made of some sort of golden meta. It's ring-shaped, with a glowing mass of pure white light in the center. G'nichi will be able to feel the sheer mojo radiating from it even at this distance.

Surrounding the necrodancer as six dance-wraiths.

"So!" he bellows at our heroes. "You think you can match my moxie? You'll be humbled before me and I'll pull out your spirits to be my backup dancers! Minions! LET'S FUNK!"

Oh no.

He's dancing and so are his wraiths! They're all really well coordinated!

An Improbable Adventure

G'nichi responds by taking up his chakram, which lights ablaze as he performs a jumping, spinning move of impressive skill-
and launches it straight at the center of the necrodancer's afro.
Everyone knows you can't disco with a sawed-off hairdo. Especially if your head catches fire too.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Fenris listens.

And works.

She's putting the finishing touches on the under-armor now, joining fabric together over Dwemer plating for the brigandine coat that goes under the plate armor. There's a level of technique that goes into the work to ensure that movement isn't unduly restricted. But the end result is nothing to scoff at. That coat of fabric and plates redoubles the defensive offerings of the armor by absorbing impacts and protecting joints.

That's one of the upsides to actually investing perk points into Smithing. You learn how to fashion padding and plating.

"When the enemy is distant it's easy to imagine them monsters. When you sit down with them and discover they're likewise people with hopes and dreams not unlike your own, what was before clear becomes cloudy. It's unfortunate that your people were unwilling to listen to reason," Fenris admits. She may have a particular distaste for the Thalmor. For their arrogance and their cruelty. But in the end they're people like any other. "I've heard that same ardent zeal in the voices of Stormcloaks and Imperial soldiers alike. A burning passion blind to the land in flames around them."

She watches the camp fire, the tongues of flame dancing. The pop and crack of the wood. She can almost hear the screams of terror still, when Alduin burned Helgan.

"Gerdur, the owner of the mill in Riverwood. She's Ralof's sister. He briefly made contact with her before returning to one of the Stormcloak camps, I believe. They seemed pleasant enough people. I didn't want to stay with them, though. I wanted to get home as quickly as I could and it was a full moon at the time. I wanted to avoid any... accidents."

Fenris holds the armored jacket, firelight reflecting off the rivets in the fabric.

"I tried reasoning with Ralof when we were escaping Helgan. I tried reasoning with the Imperial soldiers. That it was madness to be fighting when a dragon was attacking the city. But that zeal... none would listen to me. I almost joined the Stormcloaks. Ulfric spoke high, swelling words. But under them all I smelled was naked ambition. Later, at the Thalmor embassy, I discovered that this whole gods damned war was a gambit by the Thalmor to further cripple the Empire. I still see little reason for it, broken as we are. Maybe I'm a coward for not choosing a side. I couldn't join the Legion and dread the possibility of facing one of my brothers in battle. Nor could I back a man planning to lay siege to my home and slaughter the people I grew up with to satiate his own desire for domination. So I ignored the bleeding wound on my homeland and crushed Alduin instead."

She takes a deep breath and sets the finished suit of armor aside. She knows her proportions well enough. There's little reason to fiddle with it further.

"Zeal can be a blinding thing, no matter who it inflicts. The Cause becomes all that matters; the lives sacrificed in its name the price to pay for a brighter future. But ah, how often we burn today in pursuit of that brighter future and then act surprised when all that remains are ashes."


[An Improbable Adventure]

Oh no.

Burning hair smell.

Have you ever seen how quickly and easily hair burns?

"Violence! Murder!" the necrodancer shrieks. "Destroy them!"

Yep, now the blades come out.

This could have been ended without violence, G'nichi, but you just had to do that didn't you?

Fenris draws the Dwemer disc off the back of her pack. It could likely be mistake for a shield but it's much more than that. The center of the weapon hums with aetherial power and the chisel-shaped crystal teeth along its edge speak to swift death. As she draws the weapon it fills the air around it with a keening that sets one's bones on edge.

[Ironsmith]

Shuttle to L1
That's okay, Miranda. Sekhmet doesn't like the M word either, not to mention that Lizzie isn't going to call Miranda a minion to her face.
And so, time passes once more.

[Shuttle to L1]
(Day 3, midday)

clonk

Miranda lets out a little moan as she rubs at the fresh bruise on her forehead, wincing whenever her finger goes over a particularly tender spot. "Ow. [Frick], ow." She mumbles to herself, slowly climbing out of the pod, careful not to hit her head on the top again. Ugh. Sleeping in low gravity could be such a pain sometimes.

She quickly drops that attitude when she sees Sekhmet, though. "Good morning, your highness." She smiles, kicking off and drifting over to her Hotbox. "Have you had anything to eat yet? I'd be glad to fix you something."

[Thrakeld]

Fenris listens.

And works.

She's putting the finishing touches on the under-armor now, joining fabric together over Dwemer plating for the brigandine coat that goes under the plate armor. There's a level of technique that goes into the work to ensure that movement isn't unduly restricted. But the end result is nothing to scoff at. That coat of fabric and plates redoubles the defensive offerings of the armor by absorbing impacts and protecting joints.

That's one of the upsides to actually investing perk points into Smithing. You learn how to fashion padding and plating.

"When the enemy is distant it's easy to imagine them monsters. When you sit down with them and discover they're likewise people with hopes and dreams not unlike your own, what was before clear becomes cloudy. It's unfortunate that your people were unwilling to listen to reason," Fenris admits. She may have a particular distaste for the Thalmor. For their arrogance and their cruelty. But in the end they're people like any other. "I've heard that same ardent zeal in the voices of Stormcloaks and Imperial soldiers alike. A burning passion blind to the land in flames around them."

She watches the camp fire, the tongues of flame dancing. The pop and crack of the wood. She can almost hear the screams of terror still, when Alduin burned Helgan.

"Gerdur, the owner of the mill in Riverwood. She's Ralof's sister. He briefly made contact with her before returning to one of the Stormcloak camps, I believe. They seemed pleasant enough people. I didn't want to stay with them, though. I wanted to get home as quickly as I could and it was a full moon at the time. I wanted to avoid any... accidents."

Fenris holds the armored jacket, firelight reflecting off the rivets in the fabric.

"I tried reasoning with Ralof when we were escaping Helgan. I tried reasoning with the Imperial soldiers. That it was madness to be fighting when a dragon was attacking the city. But that zeal... none would listen to me. I almost joined the Stormcloaks. Ulfric spoke high, swelling words. But under them all I smelled was naked ambition. Later, at the Thalmor embassy, I discovered that this whole gods damned war was a gambit by the Thalmor to further cripple the Empire. I still see little reason for it, broken as we are. Maybe I'm a coward for not choosing a side. I couldn't join the Legion and dread the possibility of facing one of my brothers in battle. Nor could I back a man planning to lay siege to my home and slaughter the people I grew up with to satiate his own desire for domination. So I ignored the bleeding wound on my homeland and crushed Alduin instead."

She takes a deep breath and sets the finished suit of armor aside. She knows her proportions well enough. There's little reason to fiddle with it further.

"Zeal can be a blinding thing, no matter who it inflicts. The Cause becomes all that matters; the lives sacrificed in its name the price to pay for a brighter future. But ah, how often we burn today in pursuit of that brighter future and then act surprised when all that remains are ashes."

[Thrakeld]

Yuvan nods slowly. He hadn't expected to hear such an analysis from a random nord woman, and yet here they are. Perhaps he'd judged her by the wrong Gray-Manes; less Vignar, more Olfina.

"Thalmor involvement is precisely why I offered my aid to the Legion." Yuvan replies, retrieving some other supplies from his "pocket" and mixing together a broth. "The Stormcloak Rebellion was designed to weaken everyone involved. Putting it down was as close to undoing their influence as I could manage." He pauses briefly, trimming the skin off an onion and casting the wrappings into the fire. "As you've said, that is not an ideal solution. But given a litany of tragic outcomes, an Imperial victory seems the least so, as it does not hand Skyrim to the Dominion on a silver platter, nor does it empower men who are entirely too much like the Thalmor for my liking." His dagger digs into the onion's flesh as he goes about his best attempt at dicing it without the aid of a cutting board. "...Though I suspect I would not believe the same if family were involved." He gives Fenris a curt little nod, summarily dismissing their difference in opinion as understandable.

"...That, and I never could stand Windhelm." He adds, with a smirk that seems to just barely hide contempt. "Two paces into the city, I met a pair of Stormcloaks harassing a dunmer. The more I spoke with them, the more disgusting their words became. One of them suggested digging a large hole and throwing the dunmer and argonians on the docks into it, so they could tear each other apart." He runs a hand over his chin and gives a satisfied little smile. "I'm not normally one for brawling. But I have never been more glad to break a man's jaw. Of course, Elda made me pay for the damages to Candlehearth Hall's wall, and the losses resulting from frightening her customers. And the guards fined me for assault, despite it being a sanctioned fight. Still, money well spent."

Had Fenris gotten a good look at Yuvan's gauntlets before they disintegrated, she would have seen how that happened; they were enchanted to give him superhuman strength. A solid right hook from them would have been worse than taking a direct hit from a giant. Had his victim been able to speak afterwards, he probably would have complained about how that wasn't a fair swing... and been right, for once.

Yuvan will likely finish his creation around the same time Fenris finishes hers, so when she stops, she'll have a bowl of hot stew waiting for her. Yuvan's a good cook (it follows naturally from his abilities as an alchemist), and if she's ever been lucky enough to read about or sample the works of The Gourmet, she'll likely recognize the Potage le Magnifique, garnished with surprisingly fresh Dragon's Tongue. Yuvan has also prepared a bowl for himself, but he'll hold off on sampling it until Fenris has had a taste.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Fenris is not, by her estimation, a random nord woman.

If one's sample size of nords consisted of her then their impression of what nords are like would be terrifically skewed.

Be that as it may, she never expected to be sitting at a campfire sharing a bowl of admittedly fantastic soup with a Thalmor, former or otherwise.

That's what happens when one leaves their home and travels. One expands their horizons more often than not.

"This is excellent, certainly the best I've had around a campfire," Fenris says. "And I apologize for the less enlightened of my people. Clannishness is a staple among nords, as one might expect with all the clans. When fear and pride mingle it tends to become vicious. But for ever venom-tongued braggart there's a nord willing to share what little they have with a traveler. Comes from the cold winters, I believe. Hospitality means a great deal when a wanderer being shut out in the cold is a death sentence."

She'll finish the soup in contemplative silence.

This has been quite the eventful past few days, certainly. And it is likely to grow more eventful yet.

Once conversation is done, Fenris will be using that fantastic fabricate spell to conjure herself up a warm bed.

She had obliged a guard, once, when he requested one.

The man didn't even thank her for it.

[Earl of Purple]

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Boada moves away to keep herself between Yuvan and the sugar when he tries to take it, stopping eating only briefly. "You don't need this, I need this. You have no idea how much energy it takes to shrink and grow so much." Also she's generally got a fast metabolism and gets hungry quickly. She's eaten most of it, anyway.

From the spice rack, Yuvan has cinnamon, cardamom, star anise, a very small jar of saffron, ambergris, a bottle of vanilla extract, a pot of moonsugar, some dried hallucinogenic mushrooms, curry powder, turmeric, salt, black pepper, cloves, jalapeno chilis, fennel, mustard, grated horseradish root, ghost pepper oil, vinegar, allspice, mace, spikenard, galangal, ginger, sunflower oil, and poppy seeds. There's no pixies or enemies in the cupboards, but one drawer is filled with silver cutlery, one cupboard is filled with a variety of wines and spirits- brandy, rum, whiskey, amber wine, huangju, mead, and so on. There's also a cupboard filled with crockery, and in one of the bowls is a small plastic bag filled with a fine shimmering glittery dust.

Abandoned Battlefield

Nobody is outside the tank; they know it's safer inside than out. At least, theoretically. In sensha-do, sometimes somebody peeking out of the tank or riding outside gets hit by a shell, and whilst they use reactive armour to prevent the shells from penetrating, they are still pretty real shells.

The beam misses, though blisters the paintwork; if they'd not just had a swim, the canvas for the Valentine's Duplex Drive would probably have ignited, instead of merely getting a steam-dry. The missiles are a bit more surprising, though fortunately aren't aimed and so mostly miss- except for the shrapnel and rubble pinging across the tank's hull. "AH! Are you sure we can't surrender?"
"He said they were pirates. They won't care about surrender. Just keep dodging and stick to cover. Wait, there. That intersection, stop there and swing the barrel round." The tank skews to a halt where the Commander orders, the turret rotating. They don't stay long; just long enough to fire another anti-tank shell at the Panther, though without the advantage of having taken time to aim first. The mech's a big target, but it probably won't hit anywhere effective. The Valentine quickly reverses back the way it came, spinning and racing back as the cannon is reloaded.

Ruined Motorway

There's three lanes of traffic in each direction, split by a low concrete dividing wall. Occasionally, a long-abandoned car wreck sits on the cracked and crumbling tarmac, whilst old road signs, faded to illegibility, point towards communities that no long exist. The quiet is disrupted by the roar of engines and staccato bursts of gunfire, as a convoy of vehicles race along.

In the lead is a light tank, shunting wrecks and rubble out of the way easily. It's got eight wheels in total, a two-pounder cannon mounted in its turret, and it's being pursued. Following behind the Tetrarch are three technical fighting vehicles and a faded yellow schoolbus. The technicals are pickup-trucks, crudely armoured with metal plates and with machine-guns bolted to the cab roof, operated by people standing in the flatbed. The schoolbus has also been crudely armoured, most of the windows covered by metal plates with only a thin slit left to provide light. All four of the raider vehicles have bones hanging from their sides and bouncing on the road behind.

The Tetrarch's khaki paint has been chipped by the machine-gun fire, and its turret is rotating back. It fires, a shell flying through the air. The shell hits the schoolbus, smashing through the laminated glass of the windscreen, carrying on through the body of the vehicle, and hitting the window in the bus' back door, knocking the armour plating off and continuing quite a distance before the two-pound shell hits the concrete divider and explodes, showering gravel across the unmaintained road and wrecked vehicles.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1

"You can just call me Sekhmet, but, uh, sure, I could, uh, eat something." Sekhmet doesn't eat very much. She doesn't normally need to, but she has been feeling hungrier than usual. "Uh, sleep well?" Miranda seems to be in a strange mood right now, but Sekhmet isn't sure.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

Fenris is not, by her estimation, a random nord woman.

If one's sample size of nords consisted of her then their impression of what nords are like would be terrifically skewed.

Be that as it may, she never expected to be sitting at a campfire sharing a bowl of admittedly fantastic soup with a Thalmor, former or otherwise.

That's what happens when one leaves their home and travels. One expands their horizons more often than not.

"This is excellent, certainly the best I've had around a campfire," Fenris says. "And I apologize for the less enlightened of my people. Clannishness is a staple among nords, as one might expect with all the clans. When fear and pride mingle it tends to become vicious. But for ever venom-tongued braggart there's a nord willing to share what little they have with a traveler. Comes from the cold winters, I believe. Hospitality means a great deal when a wanderer being shut out in the cold is a death sentence."

She'll finish the soup in contemplative silence.

This has been quite the eventful past few days, certainly. And it is likely to grow more eventful yet.

Once conversation is done, Fenris will be using that fantastic fabricate spell to conjure herself up a warm bed.

She had obliged a guard, once, when he requested one.

The man didn't even thank her for it.

[Thrakeld]

For his part, Yuvan just settles on the glassed part of the ground he'd prepared earlier; it's smooth, warm, and free of debris, which made it as comfortable a place to sleep as he could manage, with his current tools at least. As he sets about mixing his powdered snowberries with some glowing fire salts to make a sleep aid, he finds himself contemplating the situation that had developed between himseld and Fenris. He's surprised she trusted him enough to accept his offer of stew so readily; he's ex-Thalmor, and an alchemist besides. He could easily have poisoned her, fatally, if he were inclined to. It spoke volumes that this didn't seem to even occur to her.

A year ago, Yuvan would have written this off as foolish and naive. Now? Maybe it still was, but he found himself appreciating it just a bit more.

Yuvan takes out his jewelry box and removes his amulet, quietly muttering a few nightly affirmations to his goddess before it was time to sleep. When that's done, he'll gulp down his potion to ward off the cold, and drift off to sleep.

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Boada moves away to keep herself between Yuvan and the sugar when he tries to take it, stopping eating only briefly. "You don't need this, I need this. You have no idea how much energy it takes to shrink and grow so much." Also she's generally got a fast metabolism and gets hungry quickly. She's eaten most of it, anyway.

From the spice rack, Yuvan has cinnamon, cardamom, star anise, a very small jar of saffron, ambergris, a bottle of vanilla extract, a pot of moonsugar, some dried hallucinogenic mushrooms, curry powder, turmeric, salt, black pepper, cloves, jalapeno chilis, fennel, mustard, grated horseradish root, ghost pepper oil, vinegar, allspice, mace, spikenard, galangal, ginger, sunflower oil, and poppy seeds. There's no pixies or enemies in the cupboards, but one drawer is filled with silver cutlery, one cupboard is filled with a variety of wines and spirits- brandy, rum, whiskey, amber wine, huangju, mead, and so on. There's also a cupboard filled with crockery, and in one of the bowls is a small plastic bag filled with a fine shimmering glittery dust.

[Pixie Grinder's Compound]

"There are healthier ways to replen- oh, fine, have it, then." Yuven grumbles, shoveling the spices into his arms. He'll take the silverware as well, for raw materials if nothing else. The wines barely hold his interest, at least until he sees a Summerset vintage among them, which he tucks away for later. Beyond that, the only item of interest is the plastic bag full of shimmering dust, which he holds up for Boada to examine. "Is this what I presume it to be?" He asks.

Shuttle to L1

"You can just call me Sekhmet, but, uh, sure, I could, uh, eat something." Sekhmet doesn't eat very much. She doesn't normally need to, but she has been feeling hungrier than usual. "Uh, sleep well?" Miranda seems to be in a strange mood right now, but Sekhmet isn't sure.

[Shuttle to L1]

"Now why would I do that? You're a queen, aren't you?" Miranda points out, tapping in her ordera for her Hotbox. "It's a sign of respect, and I do respect you. Why wouldn't I call you by that, your majesty?"

She seems to ignore the question about how she slept. It's not really that important, not unless Sekhmet insists. She slept the way she normally does, which-

Oh, right. She should put something on. The dress Sekhmet gave her? Nah, that's too fancy for the moment. She doesn't want to upstage the queen, after all. Miranda will just settle for the modesty wear she had on the previous day. A new set, obviously, but the same general style.

It's at this point Sekhmet might notice that Miranda's printing out a lot more food than the two of them could possibly eat in a single sitting, ranging from omlettes to porridges to pastries. As they float out of the box, Miranda will be busily setting the table, plopping them down in a semicircle around Sekhmet's position, making it somewhat clear that this breakfast feast was intended for her, not them.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

Gosh darn it he just got finished taking off that armor! Now he's in a combat situation with no weapon and no armor.
Except!
G'nichi waits until the enemies get close to him before letting loose a short-ranged blast of fire breath!
Then he attempts to slide past them as they're distracted by being on fire so he can retrieve the chakram.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Honestly it hadn't even occurred to Fenris.

What would be the point in poisoning her? Stealing her Dwemer equipment? Her Aether Disc was ludicrously valuable, but finding a buyer for the artifice that could actually provide such a sum would be a challenge.

No, there was no reason to assume mendacity.

She drifts off into restless sleep, the beast inside her itching to get out and hunt as always.

The mage will be up with the sunrise the next day, kneeling nearby in front of a small shrine to Julianos. She mutters a series of prayers, pouring out a magicka potion atop the shrine as she speaks. It should come as no shock that she's devoted to the Mannish god of logic, mathematics, and wizardry. That's the case amongst most of her people. Once that's done she'll begin the process of breaking down the camp.

"Did you sleep well enough?" she'll inquire of Yuvan when he awakes. "We have a red day ahead of us. Or black, I suppose. Getting Dwemer oil out of clothing is something of a task."

Spriggan sap will do it.

And not much else.


[An Improbable Adventure]

Well, G'nichi, you should have thought of that before you used your weapon on your enemy.

Fenris' hands light up with the copper glow of telekinesis shortly before her disc gets launched at one of the skeletons, neatly bisecting the undead before embedding itself in the wall behind it. One magical tug later, it snaps back to her and pulverizes another wraith on the return trip.

Then G'nichi sets them all on fire.

"FOOL! Only the power of DANCE can stop my minions! All you have done is create a disco inferno!" the necrodancer cackles, his hair still aflame.

Sure enough, the wraiths are just pulling themselves back together so they can keep dancing! Dancing that involves an awful lot of stabbing, too.

Fenris is going on the defensive, turning attacks aside with disc and planes of force.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Miranda is definitely acting strange. "I would prefer to be called by my name," Sekhmet responds. "You don't have to make all this for me. I eat as much as a normal person." She's actually looking concerned at this point. This is a fairly significant change from how Miranda was acting earlier.

Abandoned Battlefield
"Hold out for a few more minutes and I can handle these two." Almoner steps away from the destroyed Centurion and rushes at the Raven. The Griffin's armored left fist comes up and smashes into the smaller mech's flank, tearing a gaping hole in its armor and sending it staggering backwards.
And then the Valentine's shell hits the Panther. By chance, it strikes directly in the head, tearing through the weak armor there and exploding within the cockpit. The mech crumples into a heap moments later. "Nice shot! That's easy salvage!" The Raven takes this chance to sprint away rather than keep fighting. Apparently its pilot doesn't like its odds alone. "If that one gets too far away, I won't be able to catch up. You want to go after it or no?"

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G'nichi thought it would rob him of his funky power!
But still, Fenris is in trouble! G'nichi snatches his chakram from the floor and leaps to her side, unleashing a flurry of fancy spinning with the fiery disc.
The faint sound of tambourines echoes throughout the chamber.
Fenris may now discover that all her attacks have been empowered by the POWER OF DANCE as G'nichi's DANCE PARTNER!

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

This is...

An experience.

Fenris suddenly finds she's able to disco.

Which...

She does.

Somehow.

It even looks quite passable. When did her armor get so glittery? For Julianos' sake what in Oblivion is wrong with this place?

Confronted with not one but TWO heroes getting their groove on the wraiths are defeated! With a howl of dismay they dissolve into puddles.

"Noooo! I have been defeated! You are victorious over me, funkman. Truly your swagger surpasses mine," the Necrodancer admits, removing the glowing pendant from his neck. "I return to you the Mojo of Maridia."

He holds out the pendant, head hung in shame.

[Earl of Purple]

Pixie Grinder Compound

"Yes. Yes, that's pixie dust. I'm glad, was starting to think my info was wrong. If we find more, scatter it on the winds, or in a pool. Pixies should return to nature. Even if it's not necessarily a pixie." And the bag could contain several individuals, depending on how the grinding goes. She'll try to take the bag, anyway. I hope Yuvan wasn't hoping to make a potion out of it; he knows it has some magical properties since it's a hallucinogen.

She does at least put down the last of the sugar. There's not much left in the jar.

Abandoned Battlefield

Technically the anti-tank shell wasn't a shell, but a shot, so shouldn't have exploded. It's designed to punch straight through armour, maybe cause some spalling, and then ricochet around inside killing crew and wrecking equipment.

"We won't stop you, but... that got very hairy there. We've... never fired with the intent to kill before." The tanks are modified such that the live rounds they use don't generally harm the tank crew, so long as they remain in the vehicle. "And some of those missiles got quite close, we should double check the hull, make sure there's nothing that will become a problem later. I don't think you're carrying spare bogeys, for example." It's better to find a problem with the suspension now, for example, than wait until it breaks and they need a spare bogey they aren't carrying.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G'nichi steps forward and snatches the shining pendant from the necrodancer.
"Befoul this place with your blasphemous evil no more, fiend!" he declares, honestly wondering if he's supposed to kill this obviously evil person in cold blood. Because that's really not Bahamut's style but almost definitely what the screaming daedra would want him to do.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

That is absolutely what the screaming daedra would want him to do.

They aren't really big on mercy.

At all.

Even a little bit.

About as big on mercy as the Vigilant, now that Fenris thinks about it.

But!

She's not complaining here. It isn't often that a villain will surrender. Actually surrender. Not just beg for mercy and then shoot you in the back, so this is refreshing for her.

And when G'nichi takes the pendant?

The room starts glowing.

Bright.

Brighter!

BRIGHTEST!

And when the light fades they're standing back below the floating mountain. G'nichi's dance gear is nowhere to be seen, but he's still glow the bronze pendant with the orb of pure light in the center of it. Fenris doesn't seem terribly surprised by their relocation.

"I dearly hope this doesn't prove to be a theme here," she says, eyeing the impossible mountain

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

And now G'nichi has a pendant. He puts it on? Why not, he supposes. He lost his hat but ok.
"Well, that did in fact happen. I guess we're done? Unless you want to go back up and see if there's a different temple there now."
That fact that that is a possibility may be frightening.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

Honestly it hadn't even occurred to Fenris.

What would be the point in poisoning her? Stealing her Dwemer equipment? Her Aether Disc was ludicrously valuable, but finding a buyer for the artifice that could actually provide such a sum would be a challenge.

No, there was no reason to assume mendacity.

She drifts off into restless sleep, the beast inside her itching to get out and hunt as always.

The mage will be up with the sunrise the next day, kneeling nearby in front of a small shrine to Julianos. She mutters a series of prayers, pouring out a magicka potion atop the shrine as she speaks. It should come as no shock that she's devoted to the Mannish god of logic, mathematics, and wizardry. That's the case amongst most of her people. Once that's done she'll begin the process of breaking down the camp.

"Did you sleep well enough?" she'll inquire of Yuvan when he awakes. "We have a red day ahead of us. Or black, I suppose. Getting Dwemer oil out of clothing is something of a task."

Spriggan sap will do it.

And not much else.

[Thrakeld]

Fortunately, they had a lot of it. Spriggan sap, that is. Partly because Yuvan keeps a stockpile of alchemical ingredients on his person, with spriggan sap being a reasonably useful item for him to carry.

The other reason being because he's sitting on no fewer than three spriggan corpses.

"To answer your question, no, I did not sleep." He says, giving Fenris a rueful smile. "After a few hours of trying, I decided to go hunting. They took exception." He gestures towards the dead spriggans. "How about you? Sleep well?"

Shuttle to L1
Miranda is definitely acting strange. "I would prefer to be called by my name," Sekhmet responds. "You don't have to make all this for me. I eat as much as a normal person." She's actually looking concerned at this point. This is a fairly significant change from how Miranda was acting earlier.

[Shuttle to L1]

"Well, then just eat as much as you like." Miranda smiles. "It won't go to waste. Whatever's left over gets flushed, like we've been doing." She gives a little shrug and settles into her seat, opposite Sekhmet. "Just want to be good and sure you get something you like, that's all."

Pixie Grinder Compound

"Yes. Yes, that's pixie dust. I'm glad, was starting to think my info was wrong. If we find more, scatter it on the winds, or in a pool. Pixies should return to nature. Even if it's not necessarily a pixie." And the bag could contain several individuals, depending on how the grinding goes. She'll try to take the bag, anyway. I hope Yuvan wasn't hoping to make a potion out of it; he knows it has some magical properties since it's a hallucinogen.

She does at least put down the last of the sugar. There's not much left in the jar.

[Pixie Grinder Compound]

Yuvan jerks the baggie up into his fist, sealing it in a vice-like grip between his fingers. He was planning on treating this the way he would a bottle of skooma; don't make any more, but don't waste the ones that already exist. The fact that he was holding ground-up bodies in his hand didn't bother him; about half the ingredients in his inventory were animals and their bits, ranging from whole corpses (like fish and insects) to chunks of bodies (human hearts and flesh, daedric hearts, falmer ears, bear claws, mudcrab chitin, deer and elk antlers, sabrecat eyeballs and teeth, skeever tails, torchbug thoraxes, taproots) to processed remains (bone meal, ectoplasm, spriggan sap, atronach salts, powdered mammoth tusk, glow dust). This would hardly be the most repugnant thing his hands have touched. And there wasn't much point in doing anything else with the remains; their next of kin would find them unidentifiable, in all likelihood. He may as well see what he can do with them.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

G'nichi has acquired an amulet of Meridia!

Any healing and light magic he casts (hey he might figure out how to smite stuff) is improved by ten percent. All offensive actions he takes against undead is doubly augmented, growing more potent the more of the abominations he destroys. Once per day he may call down a short ranged blast of light against an undead creature, utterly obliterating it.

Apparently Meridia really dislikes undead.

Just... really dislikes undead.

Seriously.

"I find myself deeply adverse to that proposition," Fenris replies, glowering at the mountain. She's no fan of the Prince of Madness and as such has little love for this absurd mountain by extension. No doubt it's his sort of place. "Well, you've aided me in putting an end to a threat to this realm. For that you have my thanks. I believe you were... taking a jog? Shall I allow you to return to that? This land appears to be vast and I must admit I have some degree of wander-lust. I should like to see what sights it has to offer and what trials afflict its people."

Fenris is going to go side-quest hunting!

Because of course she is.


[Thrakeld]

"I see," Fenris replies as she finishes putting out the fire and then-

A single spell and all the loose items laying about snap into her inventory.

It makes breaking down camp significantly simpler.

"Restlessly, as usual. Ever since my encounter with a berserk werewolf as a child I've had trouble sleeping. When night falls the beast always wants out. The ring helps, though. Loath as I am to admit any gratitude to the Lord of the Hunt, it has made it possible for me to spend the night within city walls without having to worry about accidents."

She's had more than a few after her return home. The incident at the mage's college was perhaps the most harrowing. She had felt that growing hunger inside herself and leapt out one of the windows onto a narrow icy cliff face to avoid letting anyone see her transform.

"Apparently you've learned the secret of removing Dwemer oil from fabric as well," she says, gesturing at the dead creatures. "Good. I suspect we'll be in sore need of it before the end of the day."

And with that?

She'll set off!

"Did you visit the Soul Cairn? Rescue that undead horse?" she asks conversationally.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G'nichi smiles warmly.
"Well, I daresay I've gotten my workout in for the day at least. If nothing else I need to walk a ways to get back to the city, so if you'd like you could accompany me for a while as we go in that general direction?" he suggests to Fenris. After all, if she has no direction in mind, and he has one, they don't have to split up just yet.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

"I'm an alchemist, and my wife is a tailor. I wouldn't live to a ripe age if I didn't learn a few such tricks." Yuvan smirks.

"Yes, actually. I did visit the Soul Cairn. I don't remember any undead horses, but I do recall some rather intriguing familial politics between a certain vampire and her parents, which led me there." He shrugs. "That whole affair was... well, it was an ordeal. I won't go into details if you haven't met her yet. Suffice to say, I was saddened to see her go. We had quite a bit in common."

[bc56]

Abandoned Battlefield
"You can check the wreckage for parts; anything you don't need I'll take a look over after I'm done with this one." Almoner goes sprinting after the Raven. Despite his assurances, it will use its cloak to get away from him and vanish into the wilderness. He'll return in lower spirits in about half an hour.

Shuttle to L1
"Make sure to, uh, save some for yourself," Sekhmet adds before tucking in.
And some time later, she'll have eaten everything set in front of her. "Thank you, that was very good " She doesn't need to eat; did she do all that just to humor you? Lizzie comments.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

"I am far more acquainted with vampire family politics than I ever intended to be," Fenris sighs as she casts Deep Storage and reaches into the result rift to remove something quite large. "I looked into the Dawnguard because vampires attacked Whiterun, not because I had some burning desire to become one. Which they kept trying to foist on me."

She refused every time, of course.

Hircine might be a pitiless hunter, but Molag Baal was evil in every sense of the word. The sight of his mace still makes her skin crawl.

"Regardless, in the Soul Cairn there was an undead horse named Aarvak. His previous owner requested that I free him. When I did, I received a spell tome containing a conjuration spell formula for summoning the skeletal mount to Nirn. I never bothered to memorize the formula since I had little need for it. Primarily because-"

A large object of Dwemer alloy is pulled from the gate. It's of rather fine craftsmanship and reminiscent of a Dwarven Sphere. If the Sphere were several times larger and more oblong. Small hisses of steam and the stead clanking of gears can be heard inside it. Fenris raps on the device with her knuckles.

"Come now, Kagranac, time to wake up. We still have a long way to go and you don't get tired."

With a series of clicks and several large jets of steam the object unfolds into a mechanical Dwemer horse.

Fenris offers a spell tome to Yuvan before hopping onto Kagranac's saddle.

"I believe this will shave some time off our trip. Feel free to use the tome to summon Aarvak. Unless you have a more convenient mode of travel you would prefer."


[An Improbable Adventure]

Sounds like Fenris isn't rid of G'nichi just yet.

"The city. As in The City? The one you had mentioned before? I suppose being familiar with the major population centers nearby wouldn't be unwelcome," Fenris muses.

She'll wait for G'nichi to take the lead since she has no idea where they're going.

[Ironsmith]

Shuttle to L1
"Make sure to, uh, save some for yourself," Sekhmet adds before tucking in.
And some time later, she'll have eaten everything set in front of her. "Thank you, that was very good " She doesn't need to eat; did she do all that just to humor you? Lizzie comments.

[Shuttle to L1]

The meal would probably be less awkward if Miranda didn't stare the whole time.

She doesn't mean to, really. If she thought about what she was doing, she'd realize how uncomfortable that probably made Sekhmet and would at least attempt to periodically avert her gaze. But there's still something primally satisfying about preparing all that food for her, even if the process is reduced to a few button presses. Sekhmet might end up feeling the same way when she eventually had kids, or if she's ever had to care for someone.

When the queen has finished eating everything, which included more food than she could reasonably physically stomach, Miranda smirks at her, taking the compliment with a small degree of amusement. "I believe you." She quips, swirling her spoon around the modest porridge she'd printed for herself. Her appetite clearly couldn't match Sekhmet's, even if she probably was expending more calories on a day-to-day basis.

Sekhmet and Lizzie will also both realize her mental barriers are down at this point; she's subconsciously inviting Sekhmet to come into her brain again, momentarily ignoring the danger of Lizzie entering through the open door. If either of them do anything all that alarming, they'll go up again... but Lizzie probably has the good sense not to try anything too obvious.

[Thrakeld]

"I am far more acquainted with vampire family politics than I ever intended to be," Fenris sighs as she casts Deep Storage and reaches into the result rift to remove something quite large. "I looked into the Dawnguard because vampires attacked Whiterun, not because I had some burning desire to become one. Which they kept trying to foist on me."

She refused every time, of course.

Hircine might be a pitiless hunter, but Molag Baal was evil in every sense of the word. The sight of his mace still makes her skin crawl.

"Regardless, in the Soul Cairn there was an undead horse named Aarvak. His previous owner requested that I free him. When I did, I received a spell tome containing a conjuration spell formula for summoning the skeletal mount to Nirn. I never bothered to memorize the formula since I had little need for it. Primarily because-"

A large object of Dwemer alloy is pulled from the gate. It's of rather fine craftsmanship and reminiscent of a Dwarven Sphere. If the Sphere were several times larger and more oblong. Small hisses of steam and the stead clanking of gears can be heard inside it. Fenris raps on the device with her knuckles.

"Come now, Kagranac, time to wake up. We still have a long way to go and you don't get tired."

With a series of clicks and several large jets of steam the object unfolds into a mechanical Dwemer horse.

Fenris offers a spell tome to Yuvan before hopping onto Kagranac's saddle.

"I believe this will shave some time off our trip. Feel free to use the tome to summon Aarvak. Unless you have a more convenient mode of travel you would prefer."

[Thrakeld]

Yuvan examines the book briefly, then shakes his head and returns it to its owner. Without the appropriate ring, he can't be certain he'll even be able to summon Aarvak. The fact that he did not have the horse bonded to him as Fenris did, likewise, fostered doubts about whether the spell would work. He would hate to waste the tome.

Fortunately, it's not an issue. Yuvan's stamina outclasses a horse twice over, and even in heavy armor, he can sprint faster than they can run. As long as Fenris refrains from sending her mechanical horse into a full gallop, he should be able to keep up just fine on foot.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Ah, but you see, Kagranac HAS no stamina.

He can run it a pitched gallop indefinitely.

Which is rather the point of having a mechanical horse.

"Hmm... I would hate to see you stuck on foot while I ride. It... just wouldn't feel quite right," Fenris sighs as she accepts the book and slides off her steamwork mount. "You ride, then. I'll, ah, hoof it myself. As it were."

Then?

She takes a deep breath as she clenches both fists, emerald threads of magic weaving over her and-

It takes place in the blink of an eye. No sound of popping bones and squelching flesh. No ripping clothing and tearing metal. Her armor is whisked away by her magic and in the span of a heartbeat there stands an impressively large grey-furred werewolf. Grey, nearly white. Luminous. Radiant. Golden light pours from her coat, her golden yellow eyes blazing with intensity. Her claws and teeth are nearly painful to look at, like gazing into the sun.

"Push Kagranac into a full gallop. I can keep pace," Fenris says, her voice a deep rumble partly garbled by her teeth. But she's still understandable in this shape.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Actually, Sekhmet doesn't realize those barriers are down. She's not constantly probing Miranda's mind, that would be rude. She's aware enough to detect powerful psychic activity if it happens (especially without a barrier obscuring what's going on. Lizzie can't make a move without Sekhmet knowing it (and Lizzie knows that) so for now no one takes advantage of the opening. The most Lizzie does is express her frustration at the situation.

[Recaiden]

[Bone Hills - The Maw of Akarkhentkats]

The gold statues move as the food is removed, standing up and approaching Honeysuckle. Depending on which is closest, the child will try to wrap its arms about her legs to hold her still, the halfling moves its hands away from its face revealing a wide smile, and tries to slap the foxgirl. The elf will instead try to bring Honeysuckle into a hug, and start to squeeze. All three- undead skeletons, not gold golems- are unusually strong.

The southern door leads into a completely spherical chamber, though the door is not truly south- it's in the eastern wall, but the southern corner thereof, and leads to the western wall of the sphere. There's two more doors, one in the north that looks as though it also leads to the old temple, and one in the far wall. The sphere is totally smooth, five metres wide and probably as many tall- fine dust fills the sphere to provide a flat surface, though there's no telling what lies underneath. It looks to be about two metres deep at the centre of the room, as well.

Honeysuckle is near the halfling, with the elf and half-elf on the far side of the table. So the skeleton slaps her and knocks her to the ground, eliciting a pained cry.
In just a moment she's twisted around and looking at it. For her, melting gold is very easy, no particular effort. Though she's a bit surprised when damaging the gold doesn't stop the halfling at all.

The elemental hears the commotion and turns back, heating up, flames roiling faster and faster.

The manticore pounces at the elf statues as soon as it starts to move. Melting point aside, gold is a soft metal, right? Even humans can bite into it, so she should have no problem at all.

[Temple Site]

"Yes, you've explained how you have nearly no allies." Nathan observes, with a hint of humor in their voice. Why would anyone else care about demon civilization?
The eyes of the other angel track Jaccalish's claw as it waves.

"We understand. There are plenty of them, no danger of being wiped out...except by you, if this goes wrong."
And fewer than a hundred in the nexus. Not enough for a a completely comfortable investigation of them. But plenty to learn something from, all the same.

"Even just a hundred thousand demons could decide any conflict here, yes - but why would they? You said that this would benefit even us, but I do not hear how."