Outside 51: It's just a weather balloon

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

Thankfully Fenris landed far enough away that the ledge was outside the kill-zone of Purifying Sun.

If she hadn't then there would probably be more dead bandits.

The briar heart, meanwhile, rolls away from Fenris and brandishes his swords. "First you, then all the Reach!"

Which is about the time he gets hit by an arrow from one of the bandits. Another projectile shatters on a rock while another sticks into the dirt. That staggers the man. Just briefly. Which is more then enough time for Fenris to dart forward, catch the briar heart's head in one of her paws, and then slam him head-first into the earth with most of her body weight behind it. Searing light blooms from her claws, spreads through the half-undead's body like cracks in pottery, and blasts him apart in a shower of disinitgrating ashes.

That's one problem solved.

Problem two is the dragon-skull construct opening the door.

Apparently it has a two pairs of little skeleton hands augmented with Dwemer metal for the purpose of fine manipulation.

In a display of not-so-fine manipulation it opens fire on the bandits with a pair of swiveling bolters mounted on its flanks. Thankfully it doesn't have quite enough space to bring its main weapon to play on this narrow le-

Oh.

Wait.

Never mind, it's shooting the ballista at Fenris.

[Thrakeld]

Is it, now?

Yuvan smirks and hefts his mace, internally noting that the machine had missed a rather important target in melee range.

The altmer charges, bringing down his mace toward the ballista's firing mechanism. Even if the sheer force of impact isn't enough to kill it, it should stop it from shooting at the werewolf. And Yuvan's still present to make a second, third, and fourth attack... however many he ultimately needs to make.

He also seems to recall that last time they fought a construct like this, it started putting itself back together when they were done. Hopefully, the soul-trapping effect on his mace would make short-circuit that particular ability.

Shuttle to L1
Unfortunately, the delayed effect will take around 20 minutes to become apparent. In the meantime, Lizzie continues to harass Sekhmet with insults.
But as time passes, Lizzie begins to look sick. She loses the gusto with which she was tormenting Sekhmet and begins to appear nauseated. Then, unfortunately (given the microgravity environment,) she throws up. It's at this moment she realizes something is actually wrong. "What? Uuugh..." Sekhmet's mind lights up in triumphant glee. "You should know better than to kiss a succubus, Erszébet. Your lusts got the better of you this time." "You poisoned me?" "There was nerve toxin in my spit." "It doesn't matter. You wouldn't kill your friend's body." "I wouldn't?" It's clear now that Sekhmet has regained the upper hand in this situation, although the plan hinges on Lizzie fleeing Miranda's body (whether that body survives the severe poisoning Sekhmet gave it or not) into the anchor Sekhmet so helpfully gave her. She's not sure how to get that to happen without making it clear she wants it to happen.

[Shuttle to L1]

Oh, this one's a classic. Of sorts. It might help matters if I were to mention to her that I approve of this plan. May I?

If Sekhmet lets Miranda borrow her vocal cords, that's exactly what she'll do.

"Come on, Lizzie, how many times has this option come up? Self-sacrifice to keep you from getting full control of my body and wreaking havok? And I was considering that back when I was still in there and at risk myself. Did you think it'd be harder to do if Sekhmet pulled me out of the line of fire?" She'll give herself an indulgently wicked smile. "I hope you enjoyed the ride up to this point. Because it's all over now. Get out."

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Lizzie's face falls. "You, you..." "That's right. The body you're using is dying. You know what that means. The loss of all sensation, good or bad, the increasing struggle to hide the fact that you're a walking rotting corpse. For a 'proper' succubus, all obsessed with seduction and beauty, that must be worse than Hell." "No, I..." And Miranda's body falls comatose as Lizzie leaves. She's in the necklace now.

[Ironsmith]

[Shuttle to L1]

Well done. I have to say, though... it's still pretty sad that she didn't catch on sooner. This has sort of been a long time coming, if you count three days as a long time.

...Would you mind putting me back in my pod? The damage should be recoverable. And, um... one of us is going to have to clean up that vomit.

The whole shuttle is going to smell like that for a while. Let it never be said this was without cost!

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Sekhmet nods. She picks up Miranda's body and removes the necklace. With Lizzie no longer in contact, her modifications shimmer and dissolve into nothingness, restoring Miranda's original appearance. Then Sekhmet drags the body to the pod and puts it inside as best she can before shutting it. Then the vomit. Cleaning it is unpleasant, but needs to be done. Uh, is there somewhere I can store the necklace where she won't be able to get out?

[Ironsmith]

[Shuttle to L1]

You mean like a safe? You could just print one out on the conj- Hotbox. I'll show you how.

If Sekhmet permits, and gets close enough to the box in question, Miranda will indeed print out a miniature safe; it'll look something like a child's toy, being made of a light plastic and not much bigger than the necklace itself, but it'll hold up to all manner of abuse. Lizzie's not getting out of there.

Regardless, Miranda would like to get back ro her body as soon as possible. She's not entirely comfortable as an incorporeal psychic imprint.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

Fenris just explained that.

The words written within are magically infused. The act of reading the book imprints them upon one's mind and then the book is spent.

She's also somewhat taken aback by his response.

No 'thank you for offering me this magical book, Fenris.' Nor any 'thanks for helping me with some temporary solutions while I look for a more permanent one.'

No, what she gets is some petulant whining that the temporary solution isn't sufficient.

At these words the Last* Dragonborn presses her lips into a thin line, studying G'nichi with a critical eye. "It is possible to achieve what you're describing through the Thu'um fire breath. But learning words of power if one does not possess a dragon's soul is an arduous process that requires strength of spirit and clarity of resolve."

Dragonborn cheat, of course. Fenris had noticed it quickly. Her status as Dragonborn didn't make her stronger as such. But it did enhance her ability to learn and grow her own skills to a tremendous degree.

"The other issues aren't insurmountable, however. Strength and resilience can be addressed with enchanted equipment. However I believe we've both just met the limitations of such solutions."

*(not actually the last)


[Thrakeld]

One of the ballista bolts slams into Fenris from behind, spinning her around with the force of the impact and causing the tell-tale shimmer of an armor flesh spell reacting to harm. The light wound is already mending itself at an alarming rate and Fenris is feeling more angry than injured. She clenches her claws to counter-attack, radiance blooming in her paw, but she bites down on that rage and smothers the magic. Blasting the construct from range would invariably strike Yuvan and his magic resistance is compromised thanks to that anti-enchantment compound.

She supposes it would likely slay the bandits, as well.

Breaking into a loping, four legged sprint she begins running back toward the towering rock. She should be able to scale the cliff without too much trouble. Those claws are good for more than just mauling, after all.

So! Back to the ledge. The bandits were closest, as it happened, and the machine isn't exactly intelligent in any real sense of the word. One of the bandits is slain outright while the second had enough sense to carry a shield and manages to ward off the worst of the bolts. He's still got one stuck in his leg and thankfully this machine doesn't appear to be equipped with a vat of poison like the previous one.

Then Yuvan clobbers it.

There's a grinding sound of bending metal and splintering bone at the first impact, causing the machine to shudder. Doesn't put it down, though. Rather than skittering away like Dwemer ballista typically do it yawns those dragon jaws wide and tries to bite down on Yuvan's mace-arm.

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
With a bit of a mental push, Sekhmet returns Miranda to her own body once the necklace is safely stowed in the safe.
She will feel very sick to her stomach and tingly all over, especially in her mouth, but she's alive, her body is the right shape, and there's no one else in her head anymore.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G'nichi tilts his head as he doesn't have eyebrows to raise.
"Fenris, you're getting hung up on the details. I mentioned the fire breath because it was a practical thing that it gave me, not the sole reason I liked it. I liked it because it was me, not solely because of its practical applications.
If your wolf shape wasn't better at anything, would you ever willingly change to it?"
G'nichi has picked up Fenris' discomfort with her werewolf stuff, and hopes the analogy can get his problem across.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

One of the ballista bolts slams into Fenris from behind, spinning her around with the force of the impact and causing the tell-tale shimmer of an armor flesh spell reacting to harm. The light wound is already mending itself at an alarming rate and Fenris is feeling more angry than injured. She clenches her claws to counter-attack, radiance blooming in her paw, but she bites down on that rage and smothers the magic. Blasting the construct from range would invariably strike Yuvan and his magic resistance is compromised thanks to that anti-enchantment compound.

She supposes it would likely slay the bandits, as well.

Breaking into a loping, four legged sprint she begins running back toward the towering rock. She should be able to scale the cliff without too much trouble. Those claws are good for more than just mauling, after all.

So! Back to the ledge. The bandits were closest, as it happened, and the machine isn't exactly intelligent in any real sense of the word. One of the bandits is slain outright while the second had enough sense to carry a shield and manages to ward off the worst of the bolts. He's still got one stuck in his leg and thankfully this machine doesn't appear to be equipped with a vat of poison like the previous one.

Then Yuvan clobbers it.

There's a grinding sound of bending metal and splintering bone at the first impact, causing the machine to shudder. Doesn't put it down, though. Rather than skittering away like Dwemer ballista typically do it yawns those dragon jaws wide and tries to bite down on Yuvan's mace-arm.

[Thrakeld]

Yuvan isn't overly concerned about the tank biting him. He's been bitten by dragons before, it barely affects him.

Then he has a moment of panic when he remembers, oh, right, this isn't the set of highly-tempered Heavy Falmer Armor that's weathered so many dragon attacks.

But when the dragon skull bites down and (in all likelihood) fails to break through, he'll remember that it still is a highly-tempered set of Dwarven Armor, created and shaped by a Gray-Mane with the aid of a well-brewed Smith's Elixir. It might not technically be as good as the old set, but both would be of such a superb quality that there's not much practical difference.

Still, this does leave him in the unfortunate position of having his hand stuck in a dragon mouth, which means he can't wind up for a proper swing.

Secondary plan, then.

Yuvan cups his free hand, a flickering flame appearing in his palm. He inhales sharply, preparing to Shout through his helmet.

"KRII... LUN AUS!"

He's seen this Shout work on anything that moves; undead, automata, daedra, and of course, dragons. He has no doubt that the embrittling effect will be useful here.

Now that his assailant is properly marked for death, he'll start unloading fireball after fireball into its face, until it dies, lets go, or something else happens to cause him to stop.

Shuttle to L1
With a bit of a mental push, Sekhmet returns Miranda to her own body once the necklace is safely stowed in the safe.
She will feel very sick to her stomach and tingly all over, especially in her mouth, but she's alive, her body is the right shape, and there's no one else in her head anymore.

[Shuttle to L1]

"Euuugh..." Miranda groans, leaning out of her pod. This isn't the first time she's been poisoned, but that hardly makes the experience any more pleasant. It doesn't help that the first thing she'll taste again is bile, the first smell she'll get is more of the same, and she's got a bit of a problem with being a sympathy puker. Her hand clasps quickly over her mouth and nose, choking back a series of dry heaves.

Gross.

At least Lizzie's been dealt with. She's not breaking out of that anchor, right?

[bc56]

Shuttle to L1
Nobody is mentioning whether Lizzie can get out of the anchor. Hopefully she can't.
When Miranda is recovered enough, Sekhmet will be seated in the booth. "So, uh, I guess we need to keep going to drop her off." She's still in the succubus form, and it shows. From inside it probably wasn't evident to Miranda just how complete the change was, everything from proportions to body language being significantly altered.

[Ironsmith]

[Shuttle to L1]

"Same plan as before, then." Miranda says, stumbling out of the pod and over to her Hotbox. She's got two rounds of printing to do... first, something to take care of that awful smell, and second, a new set of clothes. Even what she's wearing now (basically underwear) is going to feel a bit loose and stretched-out thanks to Lizzie screwing around with Miranda's proportions, so she's going to need a completely new set.

Of course, the process of changing into said set will involve removing what she's got now, and Miranda won't exactly be shy about it. Sekhmet might feel differently about it, especially given that she's tapped into her succubus aspect.

In either case, Miranda will soon join Sekhmet at the booth, setting up a canister full of vanilla-scented air freshener. "So... that was an ordeal." She'll prompt, with a tense smile.

[Earl of Purple]

Abandoned Battlefield

"Oh, uh, hi. Um, right, I'll get Ann-Marie back. This one didn't have any fuel we can use, unfortunately." The radio stops at this, as the gunner- who had returned to the tank along with the driver- climbs back out the turret and blows a single sharp note on a whistle, followed by another. Ann-Marie quickly returns to her vehicle, holding the submachine gun. She's left her blazer behind on the corpse, however. The driver started the engine when she heard the whistle, so they're quite quick to follow. Though they aren't quick at all; the vehicle's top speed is about fifteen miles an hour, in good conditions. Dodging around buildings isn't exactly good conditions. "We took what we could, but that one's still salvageable, I think. And it has a whole bunch of missiles, too. If you can spare a shot to destroy it further, might be a good idea. Do you have a directional radio set? One you can transmit on and not be overheard, I mean. This is an infantry tank, we aren't built for speed." They were intended to support infantry advances, dealing with fortified machine-gun nests, not speeding along after gigantic mecha.

Pixie Grinder's Compound

The mirrors shatter, the windows blow out, the medicine cabinet is ripped from the wall and its contents scattered about the room. The enchantment remains, however, it's just... harder to see what's going on, with the mirror shards scattered across the floor, heaped in the bath and the toilet. Which is just as well, as thousands reflect Boada, Yuvan, and the four mirror-daemons ripped apart and bleeding, severed where the glass broke.

"Ugh, those were creepy. Gimme warning next time, aye? That were loud." Boada's holding her ears, which are notably long, and winced. She flexes her shoulders slightly, almost as though she's trying to move limbs that don't exist any more.

Scattered about, there's a pair of toothbrushes, one bent. A tube of toothpaste, half-empty. A bottle of whiskey, a sticky label stuck on it saying 'mouthwash'. A pink plastic razor, would have been good for shaving with if there were a mirror big enough and not reflecting Yuvan's mutilated corpse. A shaving cream tub. An pair of stockings. And another three bags of pixie dust. Boada's grabbing those.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

Fenris wrinkles her nose. Did she misunderstand something? She must have. The possibilities are considered as she pulls an enchanted bauble from her pack, resulting in one of the strange blue beasts approaching them again. In her other hand the eerie purple magic of Soul Trap takes shape.

"I... I'm sorry, I believe I may be missing an important aspect of what's going on. You said that this is the shape your were born with, but the other larger creature is you. Do you mean that the larger form was what you wished to impress upon the world?"

That's an idea that Fenris isn't unfamiliar with.

After all, Reality and Other Falsehoods is required reading for any serious student of alteration.

"To your question, though, yes. I'm not sure what... shape such a thing would take. But the Beast is as much part of me as the Man is. It is a somewhat inconvenient part of myself at times, given that being a werewolf is illegal in my homeland. But given the choice to forsake Beastblood I don't believe I would do so."

The blue creature is getting really close, now! Close enough that Fenris binds it with her spell, causing threads of purple magic to weave through its body.

Then she neatly decapitates it with her disc.

A crashing, papery sound follows as its soul is pulled free and yanked into one of the empty soul gems in her pack.

The rest of the beasts flee in terror.

"Ah, I suspected that would be sufficient to dive them off. Very good."


[Thrakeld]

Don't worry, Yuvan. The maximum armor value is about five hundred and sixty. Even without potions a master smith can reach that even with lowly steel armor. The armor Fenris forges is top-notch.

So!

Anyway.

Yuvan starts blasting.

On the fourth fireball something important breaks and the machine goes flying apart, bones and brass bouncing off stone and tumbling over the ledge.

Fenris manages to shimmy to the side just in time to avoid a falling cog.

For now the construct seems to be inert, but then again so was that last one until it tried to put itself back together again.

"Wow, that was something!" the uninjured bandit gasps. "Too bad about the boss, though."

The other bandit is biting back tears as he works at removing the Dwemer bolt from his leg. Considering the way Dwemer bolts are shaped this isn't a fun process.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G’nichi nods.
”I…think that’s what I’m saying, yes. Ah. Perhaps if we have gathered all of our things we should continue on? Perhaps up the road there’s a settlement where I can find some clothes that fit and someone who might be able to help.”
Of course finding someone on the road would be rather…
improbable.

G’nichi also flinches as the chilly winter wind blows.
”Oh and I’m no longer part Silver dragon so if we don’t get me near a heat source for several months or get this fixed I may actually die.” His people tend to stay inside this time of year.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

"Kagranac is quite warm," Fenris points out.

This is very true.

The steam powered horse feels like laying on top of a great big hot water bottle.

"And I believe I have some warm clothing, though not quite in your size," Fenris admits as she pops open Deep Storage to retrieve a thick coat of fur and horker skin that had been given to her as a gift by the Skaal. She'll offer it to G'nichi. "This was meant to keep Nords warm living in the coldest inhabited reaches of the north. I believe it should help as a temporary measure, at least."

Then?

She'll butcher some meat off that weird blue beast in record time before patting it down with salt and wrapping it for later. No way she's just going to leave that carcass to waste. Fresh meat is always nice to have when traveling, after all. And given the oddity of the surroundings there's no telling how long they may have to travel to reach their destination.

"It strikes me," Fenris says as she hops back up onto the mechanical horse. "That you're quite a distance from anywhere, really, for one who has gone out for a jog."

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G’nichi accepts the furs even though his player isn’t entirely sure how much they would help a cold blooded person. He even says thank you, and sits there while she takes a long time to butcher an animal despite just saying that he may freeze to death.
”A ten kilometer run is the bare minimum for a hero’s workout routine! Standard stuff, really.” he insists at Fenris’ comment.

[bc56]

Abandoned Battlefield
"Excellent. When I get there, I'll set it to slag itself so they can't salvage it." Several minutes later the familiar shadow of the Griffin stomps its way over a ridge and stops near the wrecked Panther. The cockpit opens and a man climbs out. He's in his 30s or 40s, bald and heavily scarred, with a neatly trimmed mustache and beard. He wears a pilot suit similar to the one on the dead pilot. He clambers down the side of the mech and begins walking towards the wreckage.

Shuttle to L1
Mostly it just means Sekhmet doesn't mind Miranda's undress. I
She may be turned into a succubus, but she's Sekhmet turned into a succubus. The biggest change to her personality is a boost in self-confidence. "It was. We'll have to make sure she doesn't find a way out of that safe in the meantime."

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

They would still help pretty significantly. They hold what heat G'nichi has in and more heat is being added by laying on top of Kagranac.

And a long time to butcher the animal?

Really?

Clearly G'nichi is unfamiliar with Elder Scrolls protagonists.

Fenris is done in a few minutes, tops.

And then they're off!

This is, of course, the moment that it starts snowing. Because of course it does. Before long snowy drifts are slowly migrating across the planes and obstructing the road.

The environment certainly isn't doing our heroes any favors.

[Ironsmith]

Pixie Grinder's Compound

The mirrors shatter, the windows blow out, the medicine cabinet is ripped from the wall and its contents scattered about the room. The enchantment remains, however, it's just... harder to see what's going on, with the mirror shards scattered across the floor, heaped in the bath and the toilet. Which is just as well, as thousands reflect Boada, Yuvan, and the four mirror-daemons ripped apart and bleeding, severed where the glass broke.

"Ugh, those were creepy. Gimme warning next time, aye? That were loud." Boada's holding her ears, which are notably long, and winced. She flexes her shoulders slightly, almost as though she's trying to move limbs that don't exist any more.

Scattered about, there's a pair of toothbrushes, one bent. A tube of toothpaste, half-empty. A bottle of whiskey, a sticky label stuck on it saying 'mouthwash'. A pink plastic razor, would have been good for shaving with if there were a mirror big enough and not reflecting Yuvan's mutilated corpse. A shaving cream tub. An pair of stockings. And another three bags of pixie dust. Boada's grabbing those.

[Pixie Grinder's Compound]

Yuvan doesn't mind her taking those. He only needed one to experiment and she seemed to feel rather strongly about the others.

Nothing still in the room interests the Altmer, at least not as of now. He'll still wait for Boada to finish gathering the pixie dust before leading her out the door, a point of curiosity on his mind.

"Why did your reflection have wings?" He asks abruptly.

[Thrakeld]

Don't worry, Yuvan. The maximum armor value is about five hundred and sixty. Even without potions a master smith can reach that even with lowly steel armor. The armor Fenris forges is top-notch.

So!

Anyway.

Yuvan starts blasting.

On the fourth fireball something important breaks and the machine goes flying apart, bones and brass bouncing off stone and tumbling over the ledge.

Fenris manages to shimmy to the side just in time to avoid a falling cog.

For now the construct seems to be inert, but then again so was that last one until it tried to put itself back together again.

"Wow, that was something!" the uninjured bandit gasps. "Too bad about the boss, though."

The other bandit is biting back tears as he works at removing the Dwemer bolt from his leg. Considering the way Dwemer bolts are shaped this isn't a fun process.

[Thrakeld]

Yuvan kneels next to the injured bandit and rather indelicately starts yanking bolts out of him, indifferent to any protests, casting batches of Heal Other for every few bolt-holes. "That it was." He agrees. "And I suspect it may not be over yet. Our other assailant was a Forsworn; I have never known them to travel alone. Nor do I believe he, personally, was intelligent enough to alter these machines on his own. The architect is likely further down."

Shuttle to L1
Mostly it just means Sekhmet doesn't mind Miranda's undress. I
She may be turned into a succubus, but she's Sekhmet turned into a succubus. The biggest change to her personality is a boost in self-confidence. "It was. We'll have to make sure she doesn't find a way out of that safe in the meantime."

[Shuttle to L1]

"You'd need some pretty strong power tools to get into that safe, but I can't attest for getting out." Miranda replies, turning it over jn her hands. "What exactly can she still do while she's in an anchor like that?"

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G’nichi is soon huddled against Fenris and their mount. Lizardfolk don’t really shiver but he’s clearly freezing. The cold makes him feel tired and sluggish.
”If you see any place we should stop.” he drawls. ”We have enough gold to pay for use of some space.” he suggests, though with his glasses iced over he can barely see.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Okay that results in some yelling.

The bolt yanking, that is.

The healing magic the fellow seems a bit more happy about.

"Briar-hearts are not typically intellectual luminaries," says the 'sabre-cat' as she hauls herself up onto the ledge. "The magic that creates them deadens their ability to think creatively; they are reduced to a weapon in the service of their people."

"You seem awful talky for a werewolf. Never heard of a werewolf that does much talking," the remaining uninjured observes.

"I am atypical in that regard, yes. Beast-blood does not inhibit one's intelligence; it merely creates new instincts. Instincts which may seem overwhelming at times. Some find themselves subsumed in the bestial urges. It requires a powerful soul and clarity of purpose to allow the beast to be part of you without allowing it to consume you," Fenris replies.

All this talking seems to be largely lost on the bandit.

"There is no doubt that our foe, if he were in the upper reaches of this ruin, has been alerted to our presence and has taken steps to make approaching him difficult. If my hypothesis is correct and we are dealing with a fellow Dragonborn I do not believe we should assume the fight will be at all like the one with Miraak. The applications of conjuration, animunculi, and alchemical poisons all point to a foe who avoids direct conflict whenever possible."

Hopefully not a foe with maxed out Pickpocket who might steal their pants.

Thankfully for Fenris, even if that's the case the only thing she's wearing right now is her own fur coat. Not even a master pick-pocket can steal that.

At least not when she's alive.

So!

Yuvan currently has one Dragonborn werewolf capable of using potent restoration spells of the sun sub-school and two bandits as assets.

How will he be approaching this problem?


[An Improbable Adventure]

G'nichi should really keep bundled up in those furs instead of sticking his nose out, especially given how frosty it is.

Fenris, for her part, looks a bit on the chilly side but she's doing alright thus far. She's a Nord and a werewolf besides. Her blood runs hot. But G'nichi doesn't have those perks. If the heat radiating from Kagranac and the furs aren't enough to keep G'nichi warm, she really isn't sure what to do. What they need is some shelter of some kind and thus far she isn't seeing anything.

Just...

Drab brown rolling hills for as far as the eye can see.

And drifting snow.

The snowstorm is steadily getting worse, too.

She shields her eyes with one hand, peering through the sleet from inside her helmet. "There does not appear to be a road, let alone an inn within sight. The area we have found ourselves traversing is desolate."

But there has to be something out here, yes?

Typically Fenris has almost a sixth sense regarding interesting locations nearby when she's exploring. But this place just feels... barren. As if there's nothing here at all.

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G'nichi has been spending this time praying. Fenris likely finds the strange hissing tongue of dragons and scalekin odd to hear, as he never prays in anything but Draconic. Though he does slip an eye up to her as he slumps in the saddle.
"we could always build an igloo
did you try fast traveling snrrrr- G'nichi slips in the saddle, nearly falling asleep. Fenris will likely want to avoid letting him fall asleep in these conditions. The lizardman quietly goes back to praying to Bahamut for providence. Or at least a hatchling with cocoa.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

It does sound pretty odd to Fenris since she can speak and understand the dragon tongue of her own home world which, as it happens, sounds absolutely nothing like that.

"I am afraid I am not familiar with an igloo, nor with its construction," Fenris admits. "And I have not had the opportunity to fashion a milestone network here, nor will the spell reach back to Nirn. In retrospect, it would have been wise to create a milestone near the wayshrine, but I was expecting to find more in our travels."

Instead they have found none.

The sun in beginning to droop low on the horizon now and the temperature is continuing to plummet.

Even Fenris is beginning to look a bit chilly.

They need to find some shelter, some real shelter, and quickly.

Because if they don't G'nichi won't be the only one in trouble.

Fenris digs into her pack and withdraws a small ceramic jar, its lid sealed with wax, and offers it to G'nichi. "Horker and ash-yam stew, fortified with fire salts. D-drink it, it will take the teeth off the cold."

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

G’nichi scarfs down the soup gladly. He also produces a little flame for the two of them using the spell Fenris gave him. Might as well convert his body’s magic reserves into basic needs.
”Do you think I should call for a rescue? I could try to get a signal.”
Though truth be told he isn’t expecting to get a phone signal in the middle of a sudden nexus blizzard.

[Rebonack]

[An Improbable Adventure]

Eating the soup fills G'nichi with a quite frankly elemental warmth.

Nothing like eating food prepared with the salts left over by a flame atronoch, right?

Fenris doesn't bother explaining what fire salts are or where they come from.

"You may certainly try. I am no expert on your scrying device nor its limitations."

Turns out blizzards in the middle of nowhere with no cell towers anywhere nearby really don't help even a little bit when it comes to making cell phones work.

But!

That wasn't a bad try.

The sun continues its descent and the wind is growing bitterly cold, now. They need to find some form of actual shelter and soon. But, if we're being honest, featureless rolling hills really aren't a great place to be looking for shelter.

[Ironsmith]

[Thrakeld]

Okay that results in some yelling.

The bolt yanking, that is.

The healing magic the fellow seems a bit more happy about.

"Briar-hearts are not typically intellectual luminaries," says the 'sabre-cat' as she hauls herself up onto the ledge. "The magic that creates them deadens their ability to think creatively; they are reduced to a weapon in the service of their people."

"You seem awful talky for a werewolf. Never heard of a werewolf that does much talking," the remaining uninjured observes.

"I am atypical in that regard, yes. Beast-blood does not inhibit one's intelligence; it merely creates new instincts. Instincts which may seem overwhelming at times. Some find themselves subsumed in the bestial urges. It requires a powerful soul and clarity of purpose to allow the beast to be part of you without allowing it to consume you," Fenris replies.

All this talking seems to be largely lost on the bandit.

"There is no doubt that our foe, if he were in the upper reaches of this ruin, has been alerted to our presence and has taken steps to make approaching him difficult. If my hypothesis is correct and we are dealing with a fellow Dragonborn I do not believe we should assume the fight will be at all like the one with Miraak. The applications of conjuration, animunculi, and alchemical poisons all point to a foe who avoids direct conflict whenever possible."

Hopefully not a foe with maxed out Pickpocket who might steal their pants.

Thankfully for Fenris, even if that's the case the only thing she's wearing right now is her own fur coat. Not even a master pick-pocket can steal that.

At least not when she's alive.

So!

Yuvan currently has one Dragonborn werewolf capable of using potent restoration spells of the sun sub-school and two bandits as assets.

How will he be approaching this problem?

[Thrakeld]

Carefully.

With half of their forces already demolished by this initial ambush and its consequences, Yuvan can't afford to waste any manpower. He'll still be leading them into the ruins, taking point so he can maintain a constant ward to block off any more illusion attacks. He'll have the bandits following him, bows out, to stage a counterattack on anything that tries to jump out at them. And he'll ask Fenris to follow behind, both to check for any ambushes from the rear and to ensure thr bandits don't turn and run (though that will go unsaid).

[Deathkeeper]

Improbable Adventure

Invigorated, G’nichi rises from the mecha horse.
”Okay, so new ideas. One, we’re not going in circles, right? Two, you could try wolfing out and using your nose. And third-“
G’nichi hops off the horse and throws his chakram very high in the air. It should be able to see if there’s anything they’re missing while it’s in the air. And when it lands in the snow beside him he can remember that it can ignite at no cost to him or Fenris.

[Rebonack]

[Thrakeld]

Carefully works.

Our heroes (and some bandits I guess) creep their way back into the ruins, finding the inner door is still open. The room beyond certainly looks like it was a boss encounter chamber. There's the remains of a dwarven steam centurion over there, broken down and stripped for parts. Given how badly dented its plating looks it didn't go peacefully. Then there's that large chest over there, one of those big unlocked ornate wooden ones that are always at the end of dungeons for some inexplicable reason. There's also a rather square set of spiraling stairs leading down to a Dwemer lift, one of the tell-tale entrances to the deeper underground portions of the Dwemer cities.

There's also a door over there on the other side of the room.

Probably the one they were supposed to come in through.

It isn't immediately clear what this chamber was originally for.

A control room, maybe?

Just somewhere to house the centurion?

Why are those things always at the ends of dungeons, anyway?

Fenris, as asked, takes up the rear. She's still in werewolf form though given that she's shy on hearts to devour she probably won't be able to maintain it very long. Dwemer constructs really don't make great snacks.


[Improbable Adventure]

"I do not believe so, no," Fenris replies, doing her best not to shiver from the cold. Sadly that was her last container of hot horker and ash yam stew, so she's going to have to rely on her own hearty Nord resistance to the cold to keep her alive until they reach shelter. "And I am uncertain how useful the beast would be in this situation. What scent would I be in search of? Smoke, perhaps? The scent of the storm is heavy tonight, I doubt I would be able to ascertain anything."

But she might.

If the wind is blowing the right way.

And if there is, in fact, a fire in that direction.

"Never the less-" she begins, hopping off the horse. As it has been every time she's changed voluntarily, Fenris' transformation is nearly instantaneous. One moment human, the next werewolf blazing like a torch in the dark. "-I can still try."

Fenris turns her nose to the wind.

*snrfsnrf!*

And then the chakram is tossed into the air! Up it goes! Does it see anything during its flight?

[Deathkeeper]

An Improbable Adventure

Fenris might notice the not so distant smell of steak on the wind.
"East, Fenris." G'nichi says confidently, his chakram igniting for warmth.
If Fenris takes them that way she might spy some sort of wide building with one tall section and pools out back. Some sort of combination wizard's tower resort hybrid?

[Earl of Purple]

Abandoned Battlefield

The Valentine's moving away already, several hatches open and heads poking out. There's a girl sat edge of the turret hatch, wearing a white shirt and a red chequered skirt, with goggles and a padded hood over her head to protect it from bumps inside the machine. She's holding the salvaged submachinegun. The driver has also opened a hatch above her position, one slightly to the side, giving her a far better view than that provided by the periscope. She's also wearing goggles and a padded hood, though doesn't have the submachine gun of the commander. Both girls look to be in their mid-to-late teens; fifteen or sixteen, perhaps. The diesel engine is producing smoke, which might worry the mech pilot if he sees it- depends on if he's familiar with the concept of an internal combustion engine.

Pixie Grinder's Compound

Back to the corridor, the only way to go- it seems, at least- is up the stairs. Or for completionist's sake, Yuvan might try the door leading to the cupboard under the stairs, which is an oddly shaped and rather small door into what should be an oddly shaped and rather small space.

"Same reason I had scars on me back in the painting, there." She nods towards the charred frame on the wall, surrounded by burnt wallpaper then soggy and peeling wall-paper; enough time has passed that the ice has melted, leaving the wall damp. "Was born with wings. Then someone cut 'em off." Yuvan might have connected the dots, if he'd spotted Boada's place in the orgy image. Or he might not have been paying enough attention.