Imperial Palace Gounds
Dryn Savato
Draconia

The trumpeting wheeze of the TARDS sound fading away behind him, Sereth stands on the Avenue of Homage that leads toward the Imperial Palace.

To either side, the Preserve stretches out.  The meticulously cultivated grounds that stretch around the palace proper are a unique sub-ecology that can only persist with the careful attention of the Emperor's entire staff of trained botanists and bio-ethnologists.  It is a finely crafted melange of species from the two hundred and thirty-seven systems that comprise the empire; it is art and edifice and metaphor for stewardship all in one, wide enough to swallow up the sub-estates allocated to honored guests and high officials, broad enough that the bustle of the surrounding metropolis of Dryn Savato does not penetrate the stillness.

Ahead of Sereth stretches the Avenue and its thirty-six shrines of contemplation that mark out the supplicant's proper path to approach the throne.  And above, of course, the nine-tiered palace itself with its layers of overlapping eaves.  After the original structure, built in antiquity of blue Edrangian granite, was shattered in the Second Dalek War, the reconstruction was made with a stone cladding over impervite alloy.  By now it, too, is ancient, and it has never fallen since.

Sereth notes the sparse flow of traffic coming back his way from the palace, moving from shrine to shrine to perform each departing obeisance.  Some of those returning from their business at the Palace are casting curious glances Sereth's way, which surprises him.  He checks that the signs of his office are in place and that the Traveller's lamentable holo-disguise is not active.  All seems in order, so perhaps it is just his rank that attracts attention – yet that very station should have quelled any improper impulse to gawk.

Then he realizes that some of those furtive stares were directed not precisely at him, but behind him – and, he realizes with a sinking feeling, rather lower than his eyeline.

He turns, and is unsurprised to discover the wide-eyed form of Smoke Alarm looking all around her.

'Wow!' Smoke Alarm breathed out, impressed by the eyesights all around her and bubbling over with questions. 'Your Umperor has an icehot tower! It's almost as big as Tower B at Paradise Towers. How many alleviators are there? Is there a great pool in the sky there too? And these parks are fab. I eyespy hardly any trolleys. Are there any dogs and cats?'

His eyes widened slightly, before recovering his decorum.He eyed Smoke alarm warily, then shaking his head.

"Smoke Alarm. Why aren't you back with the Traveller? This isn't exactly a place where humans, or Kangs even, are welcomed with open arms."

The Draconians might be at peace; and with the recent troubles on Asura Prime, they may have even worked together. But a human, indeed, any non-Draconian, here? There were prejudices amongst all races; even his own noble race fell prey to it from time to time.

Outlooking downwards, Smoke Alarm pouted, a dark look on her face under her blue-black hair. If there'd been any stones on the floor, she would've kicked them around in a sulk. 'She'd only want to take me home-sweet-home.' she muttered unhappily. Traveller getting the co-ordy-nats from the Doctor had been the last step, she was all ready-steady to track back to Paradise Towers. Except the idea had filled Smoke with alarm, with all sorts of conflicting emotions. So she'd nipped unseen out the exit after Sereth, anything to get away. Brightening, she eyespied Sereth again. 'So I wanted to eyespy yours instead. Is your apartment in there?' she asked quickly, pointing to the Palace.

Apartment. Well. He supposed he'd have to show Smoke his home at some point; but he'd need to get her prepared for things first. He didn't know if any of his... associates... except the Traveller herself, understood what he was here. Smoke would soon enough find out though.

"Not quite. I don't -live- in the palace. That is my Emperor's home. He is my Lord; though he doesn't treat those who follow him badly." A pause. "You know, she may just want to know she -can- take you home, rather than take you home right now." Smoke's, and even Stanley's, desire to travel with the Traveller still confounded the Draconian. He looked about him; revelling in being home again. How could anyone -not- want to be home? He had obeyed his Emperor, to not only the letter, but also the spirit of his commands - but the Fists were done. He had played his part in that, helping the Traveller, and helping her with far more that did not effect Draconia's place in the universe. This? This was a homecoming. He would report to his Emperor, and, he would be re-assigned. He must remember to see if Gilso had managed to make it back home as well.

OOC: A few basics Sereth would be aware of:

- He would have claim to some accommodations on the palace estate, if not in the palace itself
- There are offices for the governmental apparatus elsewhere in the city that he would have access to, if needed.  I assume his actual home is elsewhere on the planet.
- His authority is sufficient to account for Smoke Alarm's presence, although of course he would bear responsibility for her.

'But she's always talky about it! I knowhow Trav wants to visit the Towers. But, but no ballgames, no flyposts, no visitors.' she recited firmly, but that wasn't quite true any more, she just needed an excuse.

Catching Sereth's explanation and really wanting to change the subject, she said 'Wait, you mean that big tower is all the Emperor's home-sweet-home? Just him?' She whirled around, taking in the vast parks, realising these were just the gardens, and she could fit a good deal of Paradise Towers in here. 'What a waste of space! The big boss isn't that big, is he?'
This message was last edited by the player at 02:12, Tue 17 Nov 2015.

Sereth notices that one of the palace functionaries has approached, though the slight Draconian is holding back at a discreet distance and carrying himself in a self-effacing posture.

Keen-eyespied Smoke Alarm didn't miss the loitering bellhopper either, and eyespied him warily. She lowered her voice to Sereth, saying 'Outlooks this one wants to how-you-do. Should I how-you-do him?' She raised her hands in ready-steadiness.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:30, Thu 17 Dec 2015.

He murmured.

"It's not all for him, no. But he -is- a big deal, Smoke. A. Very. Big. Deal." Enunciating each word very clearly. "Well, it's too late to do anything about it now. You'll have to stay with me until we can contact her. But Smoke? You have to be on your best behavior, your absolute best. And you -must- stay near me. Non-Draconians are rarely allowed in the palace; and only if an important enough Draconian in good standing speaks for them." He leaves unspoken that his honor, right now, is in her hands. That the trouble she got into on many of the places they'd been, would reflect back on Sereth; and that he would be the one to answer for it.

When the palace functionary approached, he put out a hand to stop Smoke.

"No. I am sorry Smoke, but you cannot. You must play by my rules on this planet, especially here." He then approached the man, and nodded, his noble bearing shining through.

"You needed to see me?"

It was no doubt a summons to see the Emperor; but he had to be sure. Besides, he never assumed anything.

'Best? But Blue Kangs are best—' she insisted, catching herself before bursting into the singsong. Sereth was always serious, so Smoke Alarm couldn't show-and-tell if he was being really extra serious this time or not. Eyespying him, she figured he was, in fact, being really extra serious about this. A to-do here would be a big to-do for Sereth too. She felt rather unbold about the comeout here. 'Okay, I knowhow, the palace is the Draconians' brainquarters. So I'll be a goodie girl with two shoes and butter in her mouth. No ballgames, no flyposts, no to-dos. I pinkie-swear.' she promised solemnly, crossing both her little fingers.

She followed Sereth, waiting until he did his own, much more yawny how-you-do to the bellhopper. Feeling she ought to do something, she did the curtsey from the end of the Kang how-you-do, figuring that would be okay.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:35, Tue 17 Nov 2015.

The official folds his arms, palms flat against his shoulders, and bows deeply to Sereth.  "My life at your command," he says.  "Your arrival was unanticipated, lord, although your biometry has been registered and confirmed.  May I bear news of your presence to the Keeper of the Days, that he might schedule an audience with the Instrument of Heaven?  Or is your business urgent enough that it requires expedition?"

He straightens.  "I am Zhensassan, Fifth Factor of Days.  If your time is not pressing, I shall be pleased to serve any needs or arrangements required by you, or your...."  He hesitates a fraction, eyes flicking to Smoke Alarm.



"...Guest," he finishes.

Sereth nodded.

"Indeed. There is no urgent rush for my mission. In fact, you could say that an audience is the reason for my return." A pause. "Tell me, can you find out if refugees, Draconian refugees in point of fact, made it back here from Arsuran?"

Smoke Alarm loitered quietly though not patiently while Sereth and the bellhopper got talky. At the mention of refugees from Arsuran, she opened her mouth, about to ask about Fadreen, but stop-signed after outlooking to Sereth. She'd find out soonly anyhow.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:46, Thu 19 Nov 2015.

Zhensassan produces a datapad and consults it.

"Indeed, Legate," he says smoothly.  "I show here several arrivals from the Arsuran interdiction zone.  There are cross-references to your office on the ship Bounty of Hrevistis Warren... a note indicating a Commendation of Merit issued to its captain... a set of passenger dossiers, with debriefing sessions carried out from the office of the Keeper of Warcraft.  Petitions for compassionate assistance, and the like.  I can transfer these records on your authority, but was there some particular item of interest with which I may assist?"

"Yes. There was a young man who provided particular help, and if he did arrive safely, I wish to arrange a meeting with him. Gilso was his name." A glance towards Smoke Alarm. "My young friend, no doubt, will wish to catch up with the young girl she befriended as well." A sharp look towards Smoke though - this was -not- Arsuran. Her Kang games would not be ignored; and Draconian security was far superior to that of the Fists; no matter what they thought of themselves.

OOC: I can't actually remember if Fadreen's family returned to Draconia with the refugees or not. I'm thinking they stayed to help?

The bellhopper was all kinds of yawny, but Smoke stuck around to hear him show-and-tell her about Fadreen. 'Fadreen.' Smoke Alarm supplied helpfully, trying to hurry-up the show-and-tell. 'Desad. Fadreen and Penya and Szesak Desad. And I'm Smoke Alarm.'

OOC: I think you're right.  A lot of the people specifically evacuated on that trip were people who weren't really in shape or in a position to aid the resistance.

However (wave, wave):

The functionary taps a few commands, frowns slightly.  "He seems not to have been on that vessel.  A moment...."  He works a little more, then bows.  "My lord.  I find a Gilso Desad noted as a volunteer auxiliary attached under an intelligence initiative being managed by the Keeper of Secrets.  He is presently on Draconia receiving special surveillance training with a number of other Arsuran citizens."

At Smoke Alarm's interjection, Zhensassan stiffens fractionally, but perhaps not so much that anyone without Sereth's keen attention to protocol would notice.  Certainly Zhensassan speaks politely enough when he responds, "Fadreen Desad appears to be part of this group as well."  And if Zhensassan has any opinion about the involvement of females in this effort, it can't be read from his tone or his posture.

'Intelligence?' Smoke Alarm wondered. 'Well, Fadreen is a smarty-pants. Mayhaps not so good an eyespy, but she should be icehot at that.'

Well, at least they'd kept their thoughts to themselves. Sereth shook his head.

"Well, if you would get a message through to them that when they have a moment, I would like to see them both."

It was of course possible that they would be too busy. His concerns about Gilso had faded upon hearing what he was doing regardless; but Smoke should have a chance for a formal goodbye to her friend. She would be unlikely to see her again, after this after all.

"Certainly."  Zhensassan makes a few entries.

He studies his pad for a bit, and then says, "There is a place in the contingent schedule for an audience at the tenth hour, the day following tomorrow.  With your permission, I will enter the appropriate petitions and courtesies into the record; you may expect the summons once the Office of Days has conveyed them to His Majesty.  Is there any other service I may offer?"

The day after tomorrow! That was ages away! And it meant waiting on Draconia, with all its rules and yawnyness, much much longerer than expected. 'Yes, whereabouts are the public bathrooms?' After all, if they were going to be here that long, she would need to know.

A nod.

"Very well. I'll be at my accomodations in the Palace estate should I be needed before then." A frown towards Smoke. "Never mind. You can use one at my accomodations." Trust the Kang to bring -that- up.

'I said "public".'

Zhensassan works his datapad again.

"It is my honor to serve.  The staff at the Blue Pavilion have been directed to prepare for your arrival.  May I register the genosignature of your associate?  And what access clearance should I initiate for her?"  Zhensassan hesitates.  "Forgive me, but I have had only the standard training on offworld privilege and protocol.  I should not like to give offense in my humble ignorance of her standing and position.  Does your comrade happen to be titled, or a representative of a foreign power?  If not... if she has your personal trust, I believe the Ministry of Ways would afford her at least the status of Meritorious Outlander."

'The Blue Pavilion!' Smoke exclaimed, imaginating an icehot picknick hut in this humongous park. And it was blue, just right for a Blue Kang brainquarters.

She outlooked at the strange yawny big-wordy bellhopper, guessing he must be wondering at her name, though she'd just telled him. 'Smoke Alarm.' she pointed at herself. At his outlook of confuddlement, which most people tended to have on hearing a Kang's name for the first time, she pointed at him, 'Zhensassan,' then Sereth, 'Sereth,', then back to herself 'Smoke Alarm. I'm a Kang. A Blue Kang. Blue Kangs are best.' she informed him pointedly.

"...Smoke Alarm," Zhensassan says smoothly.  "I trust that is not an indication that fire is soon to follow."

The Blue Pavilion, when Sereth and Smoke make their way there, is slightly disappointing to the Kang.  It's a two-story structure, or perhaps four such structures bisected by an open breezeway in each direction, under a single angled roof.  The blueness doesn't really match up to Smoke Alarm's expectations: it's really more of a subdued, dark gray color that only shows with an iridescent sheen in the occasional slanting ray of the sun on its spare, understated scrollwork.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:27, Wed 02 Dec 2015.

'Well, if there is, I'll show-and-tell you about it.' Smoke Alarm said, then added because she couldn't help herself 'No ball-games, no fly-posts, no fire-starting.' It was her promise, anyhow.

She outlooked disappointedly at the not-particularly Blue Pavilion. 'Whereabouts do you have the picknicks?'
This message was last edited by the player at 12:45, Thu 03 Dec 2015.

The staff of the Blue Pavilion set about preparing for all the needs of an Imperial Legate (and his plus-one) with practiced efficiency.  Quarters are readied for the use of Sereth and Smoke Alarm.  Data net reports are routed to Sereth concerning the refugee effort, the campaign of containment against the Fists (and indications of some internal conflicts developing within their hierarchy.)  It appears that at present, the momentum of their expansion has been blunted; it seems as if Warlock's change of heart is starting to make itself felt even if the tide has not yet turned in a decisive way.

Also in the briefing that Sereth receives is a rundown of the current petitioners and ministers of rank who are in attendance at the Palace at present.  He notes that on the list are Legate Aratannan, Minister of State Lestasel, and Prince Zevid, the Heir-Tributary.

Aratannan holds the same rank and responsibility as Sereth.  He is senior in service and experience to Sereth although the Imperial Legates are theoretically equal agents for the crown, and his greatest achievements are likely behind him.  He has always seemed to respect Sereth, and while not precisely a mentor has provided useful advice when Sereth was relatively new to his position.

Lestasel is another story.  He is of an old, old family and while such things are important to Draconians, the degree to which he trades upon that part of his influence is perhaps not as meet and proper as could be desired.  Sereth, and indeed all the Legates, have had conflict with Lestasel in the past over their choices in exercising their delegated authority -- in theory a Legate may speak with the Emperor's own Voice on missions to which they are assigned, and frequently these have to do with Draconia's relations to foreign powers.  Lestasel has his own opinions about policy and direction for these diplomatic actions, which is his Ministry's whole sphere of responsibility, and frequently does not see eye to eye with the Legates who have to take immediate action "on the spot".

Zevid, as Heir-Tributary, is the Emperor's second son and the backup to the Crown Prince in the succession.  Sereth doesn't know a lot about him personally: he is by all accounts bright and has carried out his training and preparation diligently, but to Sereth's knowledge has not demonstrated any great motivation or responsibility.

Smoke Alarm is of necessity left to her own devices while Sereth reviews the current state of affairs in the Empire and locally.

By the time Sereth has gone over this information, a new message pops up in his in-box.  It's from Gilso, who is requesting an appointment for him and his sister to meet with Sereth and Smoke Alarm.  Their training duties are apparently wrapped up for the day.

Sereth studied the reports in great detail. He would perhaps to see some, if not all of those people when he visited the palace to give his briefing, and it was wise to be sure -exactly- what he was going to be facing. His eyes quirked ever so slightly when he noted Lestasel was here; but hopefully it would not be a problem. A potential war had been averted, no-one should be complaining about that. Gone were the days when all problems had to be answered with a call to arms.

When the message from Gilso came in, he smiled briefly. He sent a quick reply in the affirmative; as he had no other business, as of yet, to attend to. Only then did he raise his head and look around.

"Smoke Alarm?"

He wished he had clothes here that would fit her, it was only fitting that she was dressed appropriately when meeting Gilso and his sister. It was easy for him - he was -always- wearing clothes as befitted his station; but... a shake of his head. Never mind. She was an outsider, allowances must be made.

"We're going to see some old friends."

Having "quarters" (like brainquarters, only without the brain, she figured) of her own was a strange new concept for Smoke Alarm. As long as she could remember, she'd bunked with her fellow Blue Kangs in their brainquarters, and always got the bottom bunk. Even when they'd moved into the empty apartments after the downfall of the Chief Caretaker, they'd sleepover together in fours and threes and twos, as much for safety as companionship, in constant slumber parties and settling into cuddle-piles. She'd shared quarters on the Exeter with other crew-women, though she'd got the top bunk then. The rest of the time, the time on her own and lost, Smoke Alarm slept wherever she could find, any place sound-and-safe that she could fit. Even on the talkiphone box, no-one had show-and-telled her a quarters of her own, so Smoke footed about, but Sweet Boy always had a place that was sound-and-safe that she could fit.

But in this Blue Pavilion she had a quarters all of her own, with a bathroom, a cupboard, and a bedroom, bigger than even the apartments in Paradise Towers, with a big big bed all for her. But it felt strange and lonely to be a little mouse in such big rooms, lost in such an empty bed. Still, she could jump on it.

Loitering about while Sereth worked, mindful of his warnings about to-dos, Smoke Alarm only had time to explore the quarters themselves, outlooking at all the furniture and fixtures, before she footed out into the rest of the Blue Pavilion. The vast park outside was rather too much like the great outdoors for Smoke Alarm, so, like a mouse, she loitered around the familiar territory of the Pavilion and stayed under cover.

Dog-eared, she heard Sereth's words from a room away and came rushing into his office. 'Fadreen and Gilso? Icehot!'

Gilso's message explains that they, and the other Arsurans with them, are taking their classes at the Perceptum, one of the many historic buildings of the Capital repurposed from one ancient fortress or another.  It's the 'official' headquarters of that Ministry as opposed to being one of the less publicly known, high-security facilities that house the majority of sensitive analysis work.  The site is about twenty minutes from the Palace by aircar.

He nodded, and took her in. "Yes. Just let me get ready, and we'll go."

He headed off into his own quarters, and found one of his better sets of clothes. It had been a long time since he'd been able to be anything but the Legate, and the Traveller's companion. It was time he was more, once again. A Noble of Draconia. He soon stepped out again, ready.

"Remember Smoke. You and Fadreen can't behave as you did on Arsuran. It's different here."  A wry smile. "For starters, Draconians are better organised." If she really wanted to, she could probably cause some problems - but Sereth had no doubt that they would come together a lot better than the Fists had.

Loitering while Sereth changed his clothes, again (seriously, he must have had like five sets of clothes), Smoke Alarm was sitting on his desk with her legs swinging when he cameout. 'You're also taller. More reachy arms.' Smoke Alarm added with a smirk, stretching her own forward and upward to show-and-tell. She relented, accepting Sereth's words, and hopping off his desk. 'I knowhow, you keep saying-so. So, what can't we do here? No ball-games, no fly-posts, no what?'

OOC: You two can rock on as much as you like, just let me know when you want to shift scene to the Perceptum.

"Basically, don't make a nuisance of yourselves. Fadreen will be able to explain better I'm sure." What Sereth seemed to be saying, though he wasn't saying is 'be boring'. He shook his head and he eyed her again. "Well, unless you want to change to present the best image you can, maybe we should go?"

'What is a nuisance is only made-up by other people. Mostly yawny oldster rezzies and say-so caretakers.' Smoke Alarm opined, wise as a rat.

'I'll neverever change.' Smoke Alarm declared, then followed Sereth's gaze down to her clothes. Having recently visited Earth's 21st and 20th centuries, Smoke Alarm had acquired some local clothes and incorporated it into her Blue Kang fabshion. She wore a size-too-large blue tie-dye shirt she'd got at Woodstock, a black t-shirt under that, some rather worn and baggy blue jeans, and black runners with mismatched black and blue socks (one always escaped or got a hole) Over this, she had her belt (held together with a padlock), bracelets, and dog-fang necklace, and scraps of blue and black fabric tied around arm or leg to keep it all together. She had her arrowgun and quiver at her belt and her packback on, with Puddy peeking out. 'But these are my newest and bestest clothes. Lets be outgoing.'

"Hmm." A nod from the Draconian, then he led the way towards the car. Smoke would likely notice that despite all his talk of being presentable, his sword was still with him. There was a difference though - on Arsuran, he carried it nearby for ease of access. Here? It seemed to be as much to be noticed.

The car lifts up and over the city of Dryn Savato.  It's an open-air model, and there's plenty for Smoke Alarm to look around and look at.  Outside of the Palace grounds, the capitol is a very modern city punctuated by open islands around much, much older structures that each have their own little island of well-tended greenery.  Flying cars are plentiful although -- as Smoke Alarm notes and Sereth takes as a matter of course -- all the traffic takes a wide berth around the towering form of the Palace.

The one that Sereth soon steers toward is like a truncated pyramid with cut-out platforms on each corner serving as landing spaces.  Most of it has a functional look, but in the center of each of its faces is a great, ancient-looking carving of a single eye, so that the building seems to be eyespying out in all directions.

Sereth brings them hovering in to land on one of these, and attendants in archaic-looking uniforms come out to greet them, bowing their greetings to Sereth (and to Smoke, though not without a slight double-take) as Sereth leads the way toward the security checkpoint leading into the building, one of the guards gets in the vehicle and lifts off with it to clear space for more arrivals.

Inside, once Sereth shows his credentials and he and Smoke Alarm are passed into the interior, the look of the building has more in common with those huge old carvings.  The old stone interior is still intact, intricately patterned and meticulously preserved, although Smoke can see where modern furnishings as well as technology like eye-spies and picturespouts and electronic security coders have been added.

There's an obvious interior checkpoint that leads farther into the building, outfitted with surrounding seats and tables as a sort of lobby and waiting area.  Two people rise up as the pair of them approach.  Fadreen and Gilso!  They're both wearing dark green uniform-like jumpsuits, more utilitarian than the guards.

Fadreen gives a very pleased smile of greeting to Smoke Alarm, while Gilso is obviously making an effort at propriety.  Each of them gives the formal greeting, "My life at your command," to Sereth, each with a slight variation on the formal salute.  (Sereth recognizes the protocol as being formalized by long, long tradition according to gender roles.)

Smoke Alarm notices that although Fadreen is woefully lacking in most of her Blue Kang gear, she is wearing the fancy hand-made forearm wrap that she made for the Draconian girl.  "I told them it was a traditional sign of honor on the colony," Fadreen explains, "and so it's permitted for everyday dress.  And, well, it is now, isn't it?"

Outlooking around and eyespying all the sights, Smoke Alarm enjoyed her ride in the flying car, though it was perhaps not as icehot as Dev's flying bike. The Draconian city was nice too, but it was too orderly, all blank walls and clean lines, everything laid out neatly, not lived-in by messy people at all. It seemed the kind of place the Great Architect would build. The ginormous eyes on the tower were extra intimidating, like massive spyeyes for caretakers, eyespying the whole city. It made her feel the aircon was too low.

'Fadreen!' Smoke Alarm cheered, eyespying her friend. She was about to say the quick, everyday how-you-do, but stopsigned as they did a proper salute-thingey at Sereth. So Smoke Alarm performed a proper full how-you-do to Fadreen, ending with clapped hands and a shared curtsey. Fadreen definitely remembered how to do it. The crushing hug she gave her friend right after wasn't a normal part of the how-you-do, but nor was it a no-no.

She touched her forearm to Fadreen's, matching their blue colours together. 'Yep. Traditionals don't have to be oldstery. And Blue Kangs are best.' she agreed. 'What do you do here? Anything fun?'

"Fun?  Well... I think you'd think a lot of it was yawny.  But a lot of it's about being sneaky too.  Passing messages, keeping watch on people and keeping them from watching you, hiding in plain sight."  Fadreen briefly describes some of the basic tradecraft techniques that the instructors at the Perceptum are passing along.

"It's so when we go back we can do a better job of helping everyone resist the Fists.  Hopefully, without provoking fights that get people hurt.  No wipeouts!  And I'm supposed to be teaching too, when I go back.  There's dozens and dozens of Kangs, all over Arsuran now!"

"Important work." Sereth shook his head. He wasn't sneaky. The work Fadreen and Gilso were doing would be beyond him. "The Fists made a mistake when they tried, even subtly, threaten Draconia. Our friends here will make them see that."

His eyes glittering as he regarded the pair of them.

"My own task with dealing with the Fists has come to an end, at least as Legate, and yours is just beginning."

Smoke Alarm listened in fascination as Fadreen show-and-telled her studies, though she figured it sounded mostly like basic Kang knowhow: keeping outlook and eyespying, running unseen and unheard, but with more techie stuff too. 'Huh. If school had show-and-telled that sort of knowhow when I was there, I might've mayhaps stayed longer.' she reflected ruefully.

She was more amazed to hear of Arsuran. 'Dozens and dozens? Like, lots of Kangs? You'll be like me.' Smoke Alarm was grinning from ear to ear, feeling like a blue balloon, so puffy with pride that she'd inspired something in Fadreen and the rest of Arsuran, in these Kang wannabes. But she didn't feel a special connection with these others; they were friends, but not the ones she'd grown up with, had lived and ran and been made unalive with. Nor did she feel an ownership of them. They weren't her Kangs; they were their own Kangs, and she wanted to eyespy them lost-and-found their own Kangliness, to make their own ways down the carrydoors of the universe.

But the tell that there were Kangs came alongside the darker tell that there were Fists. 'So the Fists are still there, being Fists and caretakers and meanieheads? Is Warlock making them play nice, or was he a pants-on-fire liar?'

The two siblings trade looks.

It's Gilso who answers Smoke Alarm.  "The Fists haven't gone, no," he says.  "Whether the Warlock has changed his ways, neither of us can really say, first hand.  We hear from the Traveller's friend, the wise brother of Shaolin, from time to time.  He says the Warlock travels between the worlds held held by the Fists, finding the ones in their order whose actions are key in holding their empire captive by coercion and force and fear.  The two of them work to remove such people from power and loosen the hold the Fists have over the captive worlds.  The wise brother says, 'one cannot move another down the Noble Eightfold Path at a forced march'."

Gilso frowns.  "I don't understand his religion, as such, but I get the sense of what he is saying and the way he and the Warlock are working.  Ridding Arsuran of the Fists by force and war would not work without getting a lot of people hurt, and maybe not at all, because the whole doctrine of the Fists is about bringing people to their way of thinking through conflict.  Defeating their goals through a fight that looks like no fight at all, that is the plan they are working to."

Smoke Alarm pouted unhappily, still not satisfied, filled with righteous impatience. 'But it's a slowpoke way though! Big bosses and say-so caretakers, they always say they will only fix-it in their own way at their own time, and then they be lazybones and slowpokes and nothing gets fixited. They need to be pushed or something.'

Fadreen looks unhappy herself, at Smoke Alarm's reaction.

"What you're saying," she says slowly, "that's very much like what the Fists say, to justify what they're doing.  Because all the rest of us can't be trusted to think the right ways and do the right things.  I don't know what you'd want Mr. Warlock to do.  Blow a bunch of them up?  Turn that awful mind-control thing on all of them?"

'No!' Smoke Alarm retorted hotly, upset and unbrave as all her words were twisted around. She struggled to explain, her face screwed up in concentration and frustration, knowing she lacked the words and knowhow for this. 'No, I mean... We can't just loiter until they go away, coz they won't if they don't have to. We can ask them to take the exits, and they'll say no, coz they're meanieheads. We can't just loiter coz... because the Fists will stop being visitors and become residents, and little ones will grow up into big ones knowing only the Fists being architects and caretakers, knowing only being chased and being hungry and being taken to the cleaners.' The words flowed out with a frightened sob, heartfelt and fast. Smoke could show-and-tell from personal knowhow, hard-learned and painful, what such a life was like. 'We need to show-and-tell them what they're doing is wrong-way. Shoplift their nasty weapons and throw them in the bin. Be too hard and too messy for them to control. Make it so they don't want to stay.'

Up until this point, the other Draconians (and the rare offworlder) who have been passing through the main hall of the Perceptum, in everything from plain uniforms to elaborate half-armored battle dress, have given the small gathering their polite disregard.  Smoke Alarm is an unusual sight just being Smoke Alarm, but on the other hand, these passersby known a noble of Draconia when they see one, and such as Sereth would not bring an untrusted person into this building.

With Smoke Alarm's ill-restrained display, this changes.  Not that most of them break propriety to stop and stare; it would be more accurate to say that their lack of notice becomes more studied, almost pointed.  Sereth does notice that a couple of proctors wearing the uniform sashes of the Ministry of Secrets have started to hover a bit closer to the group, though not interjecting their presence as yet.

Fadreen seems a bit at a loss to respond to her friend's outburst; Gilso is giving Sereth a somewhat agitated and nervous look.

'...It's coz they're big bullies...' Smoke Alarm was going on, passionately arguing Kang political theory, which observed no real difference between interstellar politics and schoolyard bullying, as it should be. But gradually she eyespied the tension in the hall, in her friends, and wondered what she was missing. 'What?' she asked, outlooking around her for cleaners or something.

Sereth's eyes flickered.

"Enough. The way to achieve change, is not to force it - whether through force of arms, or through making things uncomfortable. The Fists were mislead, most of them, and the answer is not to make them hate us. The answer is to make them want to be -like- us. Show them there is a better path, not a path of hatred. Your way, is dividing Arsuran as surely as the Fists were doing, Smoke. Let the once oppressors not be the oppressed. Let the once oppressors be our friends, our confidants. Let them stand together to form a new world, a new order. Warlock did what he did out of fear, of a greater evil that was coming if they were not stopped - and he saw his way being the way to stop it. He was wrong, but he and the Fists may still have valuable insights as to how stop this destruction from happening." A deep breath. "They feared us. Not you and me - they feared Draconia. They feared going to war with her as they had with the human outlying settlements, because we function as one. I was there, on Arsuran, to investigate what was happening, because the Emperor had grown concerned. THey drew us in. And we did what they did not expect - we came at them with words, with peace. We, hopefully, converted one of their leaders to our cause. Shall we undo all that by now resorting to the methods of our ancestors?" A quiet nod, and his hand held up to stall the proctors. "Gilso, Fadreen. You are doing well from the sounds of it. You are doing exactly what I would have done. Without half my training." His eyes focused. "Some battles are fought with force of arms." His hand touched his blade for a moment. "Some, through deception. This battle though, was started with words - and with words it must be finished, and that is the hardest battle of all." Sereth knew what he spoke of - too many knew either the warrior, or the diplomat. Few knew both - Smoke was one of the few who had seen him in full flow as both, and she had also seen how quickly the warrior could become the diplomat - or vice versa.

Make friends with the Fists! Caretakers might as well be made Kangs! No ball-games, no fly-posts, no to-dos might be Sereth's way, but that seemed no way at all to Smoke Alarm. All would be blank walls and cleaners by the time Fists were outgoing, and then it would be too late. Too late for youngsters, too late for the ones on the streets being taken to the cleaners. It would all happen all over again. Sereth and Fadreen seemed like visitors to her, accusing and say-so. The old terrors of a young life welled up inside Smoke Alarm, until she could hardly hold them anymore and she had no clever words and she was lost in an unmapped city, its bigness falling on her.

Pouting furiously, Smoke Alarm spun around, turning her back childishly on Sereth and Fadreen and Gilso. Looking downward, she folded her arms tightly so as to hug herself. It was an old Kang habit, surviving from their youngest days, a way to hide the fear on their faces from each other, a way of ignoring and living with the nightmares that had lurked around every corner of Paradise Towers. Because sometimes a Kang could not be as brave and bold as a Kang should be.

At the end of Sereth's speech, Smoke Alarm spun back around, finding her key. 'But this battle didn't start with words. It started with sky-flies and fire falling from the clouds, with wipeouts and unalives. Then it was taking street-people to the cleaners for disposing. Where did they go? Should we be talky and loiter and try to make them like us, while more and more are taken to the cleaners for not being like them?' she argued passionately.

'It was me and Fadreen that show-and-telled people that the Fists are not icehot, that they're only muscle-brains and meanie-heads. We show-and-telled the Arsuran people to be brave and bold as they could be. We show-and-telled them how to fight them without fighting, a to-do that is no to-do. No wipe-outs, no making unalive, that is the Kang way. Isn't that what you two are doing now?'

"Yes," says Fadreen firmly.  "And look at what happened!  Mr. Warlock made the machine that he'd given them 'break' and got rid of it.  He got them to take the people they'd collected together into the centers, and let them go.  But he only did it by finding the ones who would listen, like Ms. Erysk, and talking to them.  There's only so much you can do without 'wipeouts', Smoke Alarm.  But we're doing it.  We'll keep on doing it."

'Well... Good!' Smoke Alarm agreed furiously, wondering what, exactly, they were even arguing about, since she'd kind of forgotten now. She was glad to hear the street-people had been let go; she hoped they'd get places to sleep now. 'But I only got Erysk to listen to me after my, um, "campaign of civil disobedience" show-and-telled people they weren't icehot, show-and-telled them there are other ways. More, she took me to visit their brainquarters, so Traveller could talk to Warlock...' she corrected. She reached for words, finding the show-and-tell coming together even as she said them. 'Eyespy, we can't just be talky and loitery, else they'll be slowpokes and do-nothings. And, yes, we can't just be making to-dos and wall-scrawls, coz they'll be meanieheads. We need to talk with one mouth and be brave and bold with the other.' Smoke Alarm wondered briefly how one could have two mouths, then went on. 'It's a two-dog attack, a chocolate bar and stick way. That's our way.'

"That's all ready-steady, then," Fadreen says, a little less anxious.  "Don't worry so much, Smoke Alarm.  We can take care of this."

With Smoke no longer causing so much of a display, the Ministry proctors hover nearby for a while as the two Arsurans acquaint Smoke and Sereth with the state of things there and how the people they've left behind are doing.

Time rolls on, from mid-afternoon to the first beginnings of evening.  Sereth notes a few messages showing up on his personal datapad.  One is a request from Legate Aratannan for a meeting the following day.

He responded to the messages of any importance as he could, filing the rest away for a future time. But the message from Legate Aratannan could not be ignored. He confirmed immediately that he could meet, at a time of place of most convenience, as he did not, currently, have pressing engagements.

He then went and found Smoke.

"Smoke. You're going to have to entertain yourself for a bit of tomorrow. I have a meeting I need to attend. Try not to get into any trouble? My people, though a far cry from the Fists, or other such dictatorial groups, can be quite hard on law-breakers."

'No, not ready-steady, that means, um... ready.' Smoke Alarm corrected Fadreen, wondering herself at the need for the steady word anyhow. But that was how it went. 'You mean righty-tighty. I think. Sometimes I don't even knowhow it all goes.' As they got talky, Smoke Alarm asked what Fadreen had been doing and about Arsuran and how Peet and Mrs Maglup and Old Gaross and all the rest were going under Fist rule, about the new Kangs on Arsuran and how they found ways to oppose the Fists. Making wall scrawls and spread chaos, she hoped. It was good to talk and catch-up and hear about them; it was almost like being back with old friends again.

*

Sereth found Smoke lying on the floor of her room and reading one of the comic books Traveller had picked for her. She was getting good at it now; she didn't even have to sound all of the words out. The big ones like "pow!" and "zap!" were easy-peasy, and the pictures helped explain things. But she leaped to her feet when Sereth came in. 'I can? Icehot! I was getting kind of yawny here. Don't be a worry-wart, I won't get into to-do.' she promised, then added with a customarily cheeky Kang grin, 'They'd have to catch me if they can first.'

"It's not that easy, my friend." His face went grim. "If you caused an issue here, you would not find the incompetent troops of the Fists after you. You would find some of the best organised, most highly-trained soldiers of any galaxy after you." He sighed quietly. "And given I brought you here, I would be honor-bound to catch you."

'Kangs had to-dos with musclebrain soldier-boys when we was little kiddies. And we won and got the food and arrowguns.' Smoke Alarm recalled confidently, one of the few mentions she'd made of the old, old times, one of the earliest battles the Kangs had fought and won. 'Then the soldiers got taken to the cleaners, and we had Caretakers, but they was slowpokes.'

She clapped her hands together in glee at Sereth's last words. 'You could chase me! Catch me if you can! That'll be icehot fun!'

Grimly.

"I'll make you a deal. Stay out of trouble, and I'll give you one chase before myself and the Traveller part company."

Smoke Alarm eyed Sereth, then solemnly raised her hand to the Draconian noble with her littlest finger extended. 'Pinkie-swear?'
This message was last edited by the player at 07:00, Thu 12 May 2016.

He looked Smoke's finger, in slight confusion. HIs studies had not gotten him that far. He just closed his hand around hers, his other hand over his heart.

"May I be the last of my family, and be forever without honor if I fail to keep up my side of the bargain."

'Well, you don't have to do all that.' Smoke said after some thought, eyespying her unhooked pinkie protruding from her little hand in Sereth's big hand. It was scaly but soft, like a Rezzie's purse. 'Pinky-sweared. I promise I'll be a goodie two shoes. No ballgames, no flyposts, no to-dos.' she vowed with all the solemnity of a Blue Kang. For Sereth, she would obey the "keep out" and "authorised personnel only" signs and stay out of to-dos and no make wallscrawls, but she couldn't say she wouldn't run if chased.

'Wait, what do you mean "part company"? I didn't know you had a business.'
This message was lightly edited by the player at 03:15, Tue 12 Jan 2016.

"My time travelling with you is drawing to an end. My emperor had a mission for me; it is now complete. I now report to him, and receive my next assignment." He smiled. "You and the others can now explore without me dragging down your fun, yes?"

'But, but then I'd have to be the yawny sensible one to Trav.' Smoke's face fell with dismay. Mayhaps she hadn't known Sereth long, and he was yawny and a bit of a caretaker, but he was her friend and they'd been through a lot of to-dos together since escaping Arsuran, fighting Daleks and cleaners together, and he'd saved her from the orderlies and rezzies at the hospital. He'd become the fatherly figure she'd never known. She couldn't imagine not seeing him again. 'Will we still be visitors? Mayhaps you could comeout on the talkiphone box on weekends?'

Legate Aratannan's response to Sereth proposes a mid-morning meeting at the Red Pavilion, the elder Legate's current residence on the palace estates.

The chief attendant managing the Blue Pavilion suggests that while Sereth attends to business, he can delegate one of his assistants -- a novice in the Ministry of Ways name Taliro -- to guide Smoke Alarm through a tour of the open areas of the palace grounds and the portions of the palace itself that are normally open to all Draconian subjects.  These areas, Sereth knows, comprise an area that is part museum, part shrine: it's a pilgrimage destination and it is also a place that is meant to impress on privileged visitors the full scale and history of the Draconian civilization.  Admittedly, this provides a certain potential for mischief, but Smoke Alarm has, after all, promised in an apparently sincere fashion.

When Sereth arrives at the Red Pavilion, he notices that the usual collection of servants in palace livery are not in evidence; there are only a few members of Aratannan's personal staff on hand.  They guide him to the study where Aratannan is studying an old book.  When Sereth enters, Aratannan rises so that the two can exchange the formal greetings appropriate to their rank.

"I thank you for coming, Sereth," Aratannan begins, when that important duty is complete.

Then he surprises Sereth by taking from one of the shelves of the study a rinaro kinetic sculpture, from the Empire world of Sansarradi.  He seats himself on one of a pair couches opposing each other across a low occasional table.  He sets the sculpture on it, carefully winds its trigger mechanism, and sets the sculpture in motion.

At that, his manner changes, growing less guarded, yet more serious.

"I have been reviewing your reports on the Arsuran incident, and the current state of affairs in the Fists' sphere of influence," Artannan says.  "A course which holds a proper balance between the security of the Empire, and maintaining discreet detachment from the affairs of other worlds, I think, but one which causes disquiet in some quarters, I believe you will agree.  By limiting Draconia's involvement in that matter, I believe you have forced a stalemate on the political ambitions of some highly placed individuals in the Ministries."

Earlier:
"We will see, Smoke. It all depends on where I am assigned. I know you, and the Traveller, find my job boring. It is all talk, not action. I have seen it in your eyes on those few occasions I have started to talk; but whilst action is often required first, talking is always how we achieve peace." He doubted that any of his friends from the TARDIS truly understood the thrill he got from bettering a political opponent with words, rather than falling back on force of arms. Even the Traveller; whilst she clearly appreciated that it was better to do that way, he doubted if she truly understood how Sereth felt when weaving a web of words about him. The way he had disarmed Warlock? That was the highlight of his journeys with the Traveller, not beating the Dalek, or those other things. Talking down the crooks on Space Vegas as well had its thrill; but it was blunt intimidation, not skill, that won that day.

Current:
Whilst he was hesitant in allowing it, he also knew that left entirely to her own devices Smoke Alarm could be an even bigger problem than on a guided tour, so he nodded in acquiescence. He then prepared for his meeting with Aratannan.

With the formal greetings out of the way, he seats himself down, and listens carefully. Everything Sereth did was for Draconia, was for the Emperor. Political machinations was not a game he got involved with; but it was not the first time he would have been dragged into it. Everything he did, especially now, with his rank, had the potential to cause such; but as long as what he did was for the good of Draconia, the good of the Emperor, or the good of his family's honor? He had no regrets.

"Yes, I was somewhat concerned about that; but it was for the good of Draconia. How many new enemies did I make from my actions?" A wry smile - an acknowledgement that his beliefs did not always make him the most popular.

Smoke Alarm nodded in agreement. 'I knowhow. That's how we made peaces at the Great Pool in the Sky. The Doctor show-and-telled us that. Yawny talky time, no to-dos... It just doesn't outlook it does anything, is all.' Frowny-faced, Smoke reflected on Sereth's parting company. Well, he wasn't outgoing yet, and mayhaps there was still time to sort something out or change his mind. Suddenly, the Blue Kang glomped the Draconian ambassador, flinging her arms around him and hugging him tight, before scurrying shyly off.

*

The next day, Smoke Alarm was turned out in her finiest Kang fabshion, with a packed lunch and her Puddy, waiting for Taliro, her "tower guide". She understood Taliro would show-and-tell her all the ways, how to track back through the towers and parks, and mayhaps give her a map. Sereth had suggested this, and though she figured it would be kind of yawny, Smoke had readily accepted. She wanted to eyespy the artchitecture and learn her way around if she got chased, and mayhaps there would be a giftshop at the end.

Aratannan regards Sereth levelly.  "Our good Keeper of State, may his name be stainless, seems to have expended many late hours on the offices and hierarchies necessary to administer worlds liberated from the hand of an oppressor," he says.  "And noted the Empire's good fortune to have so many skilled and shrewd officials ready to fill those posts.  Not a few of which share his clan's name or control assets vital to his clan's interests.  He is truly diligent in planning for such burdens and contingencies."

He gives a mirthless smile.  "The Keeper of Warcraft, honored be his ancestors, was less than eager to see the fleets and the blood of Draconia's sons spent in such adventures.  For which we may all be sincerely grateful.  And of course the Keeper of Secrets now sees his star rising in the heavens and his clerks and scurriers well employed.  To the safety of the realm, to be sure, though Minister Dresst has never been one to shy away from doing well while doing good."

Smoke Alarm thinks she recognizes Taliro when he arrives at the Blue Pavilion; she's getting to be pretty good at Draconian faces.  He was around once or twice the previous day.  Taliro's robes and sash, though still of a wide-shouldered and severe cut that seems to her most impractical for climbing or jumping across rooftops, are simpler than many of the others' she has seen, with only a simple embroidered pattern to distinguish it.  He's also wearing a simple satchel slung across his body.

He carries out a deep and elaborate bow to Smoke Alarm.

"Good morning, Miss Alarm," he says.  "I am Taliro, Ninth Initiate of Ways.  I'm honored and pleased to be your escort today: I've made a study of Human protocol and custom, but I've little practical experience in them.  You will do me a great service in furthering my understanding of your people's ways."

'Miss Alarm? Mayhaps you have the wrong number? I'm Smoke Alarm. But you can call me Smoke, if you like only one name.' she explained, she thought graciously.

She outlooked wonderingly at Taliro. 'You want the knowhow about us? Well, then – let's how-you-do.' Smoke Alarm began the formal, martial dance of the how-you-do, gesturing Taliro to follow when it came time to clap hands. She curtseyed, then added 'Now you try.'

Sereth paused for a moment though.

"I don't understand the Fists. Not only their claimed motivations; but the way they went about things. Picking off outlying human worlds? Yeah, I can see that. Earth hasn't always gotten involved when their colonies have problems. But delivering a message to the Emperor, that could only be viewed as a threat? What did they hope to achieve? They couldn't believe that we would stand down in fear? And were they really willing to engage in war, when no matter the victor, they would be so weakened against this threat they claim they were 'saving' people from, that they couldn't possibly stand up to it." He was also dubious that the Fists were nearly as dangerous as they claimed - it was one thing to swoop down upon lightly defended outposts; quite another to declare war on a powerful empire - currently warlike or not.

Aratannan gives a slight tilt of his head, what Sereth recognizes as one of the Legate's "tells" -- in this case, a nonverbal admonition of let us look at this from another direction..

"It is not so surprising.  Humans are many things that we are not.  Our civilization has endured such a very long time because it rests on layer after layer of tradition and proven practice, and yet because of that it has never scaled the heights of human empires.  How many 'Great and Bountiful' human empires have spread across the stars only to crash back into chaos again?  It is because their species has never learned, as a whole, to put aside its reckless and romantic ambition.  Very often they achieve amazing things because they are unwilling to recognize how foolish those things are.

"These Fists, now.  How does one reckon with the possibilities of such harnessed belief?  Such confidence in the correctness of their means and goals?  Their reach plainly exceeded their grasp, and yet for all the might that Draconia would have brought against them, you see how the greatest among us concentrate on how the existing power is divided, and how to create empires within empires.  Discipline and wisdom are strength -- yet they are, perhaps, innately reactive."

Taliro's essay of the Kang how-you-do is surprisingly credible for someone who has never seen it before, even if it is a little stiff and measured.  Smoke Alarm notices how his scrutiny takes it all in as she demonstrates it: if nothing else he takes it highly seriously, unlike a lot of people when Smoke first gives it to them.

"Fascinating," Taliro says.  "Now, where would you like to begin?  On the grounds, or in the palace?  I'm not what you would call a naturalist by profession, but I can identify most of the notable plants and animals for you.  I'm afraid that the portion of the Palace open to offworld visitors is of limited extent, but I should be able to show you quite a bit about Draconia's history and its culture over all that time."

Smoke Alarm carefully weighed up the two options. Although the park was nice and orderly, with everything laid out on straight lines, it was very wide and open, which still made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Birds and skyflies could come down on her. It just felt more natural to her to start in the building and work her way out, learning her way as she went. 'In the palace, pretty-please.' she said, being extra special polite. 'I like the tower.'

Taliro nods.  "Very well."

He leads Smoke Alarm from the Blue Pavilion toward the Emperor's tower.  The size of it is a little misleading to Smoke Alarm: the walk to get to the front doors is longer than she expected and by the time they reach it, it's looming over them much taller than she'd thought.  Taliro approaches the uniformed guards who flank the entryway and they exchange a complicated set of gestures and bows.  It's not really like the how-you-do but it reminds Smoke Alarm of how that is done by the Kangs.

Then they're inside.  This building is much fancier inside than the eyespying pyramid that Sereth took her to yesterday, and even though there are quite a few people going in and out on various tasks, it's quieter than she was expecting -- not only are people being hush-hush on their own account, but it seems like there's something built into the place that deadens and softens all the sound.

What catches Smoke Alarm's attention straight off as they're going in the great entry hall are huge figures that tower over them to either side.  They're all angular forms in planes and angles, in the shapes of giant Draconians, and each is in a different, bold color.  "Sazu warrior sculptures," Taliro tells her.  "They're fashioned all from paper. in the images of the twelve founding kings of the Empire.  Did the Legate ever tell you about sazu?  It's a strategy game: you choose how you try to win the game -- by taking all your opponent's sazu off the board, or by positioning your own so that his have nowhere to move."

Footing it up to the palace took ages, but it gave Smoke time to get ready-steady, pulling out her talkiphone and setting up the picture-taker function. 'Okay to take pictures?' she asked Taliro, getting the knowhow that they might be touchy about pictures. With his say-so, she started taking and lots of lots of pictures: of the palace, the doors, the guards; of Taliro, and herselfies with Taliro; Puddy with the guards; herselfie with Taliro, Puddy, and the guards.

She outlooked up and up at the great big paper statues looming over like towers themselves. 'Icehot!' she exclaimed, then caught her mouth as her words seemed so much louder than expected, bringing some outlooks her way. It wasn't that she was unwilling to be noisy, far from it, but this was a do-not-disturb place. Sounds didn't echo here like in most towers, it just stopped. Mayhaps there were caretakers or dogs or sleeping oldsters they needed to sneak around. So Smoke Alarm would be as quiet as a mouse.

'But they're made of paper – can't you just tip water on them?' she suggested a cunning tactic. Burning them was another option, but a Smoke Alarm would never suggest that. 'No? Well, what about running away? Does that work?'

Smoke Alarm turned around until she outlooked right up at a blue sazu warrior-sculpture. Blue and proud and fierce, it could almost be a Blue Kang. Her friends would love that. Curious as a cat, she approached the sazu to give it a feather-light poke, wondering how thick and heavy it was – was it like a stack of newspapers, solid and heavy, or would it just float away like a paper bag on the breeze?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:03, Sat 16 Jan 2016.

A slow pause.

"Assuming, just for a moment, that their means were wrong, but their motivations, to combat a greater evil that will bring untold destruction, is right? Then the best way to prepare is for Draconia and Earth to work together. Not invidually; that the greatest of humanity, work the greatest of our own people. It's a big assumption though."

He sighed heavily.

"However, I am sure that is not why you asked me here today. It is something that needs to be dealt with, but greater minds than mine will deal with it."

"Well -- no, I'm not sure that I've explained this correctly.  These sculptures are just sculptures, to honor the memory of the kings, and their foresight in coming together to make the Empire."


Smoke Alarm finds that the sazu sculpture is much more along the lines of the newspaper piles she was thinking.  Her fingertip feels the scritchy texture of parchment, but it doesn't deform the paper at all, much less budge it.  There must be layer after layer after layer of the stuff all folded inside it.  She thinks of Fadreen with her kites, and how the Draconian showed her how to fold little paper stars and birds.  How big must the sheet that they started this from have been?

She draws some scandalized glances from around her, rather more severe than for her earlier exclamation.

"Don't be so certain of that.  'Greater' minds than ours have been known to focus on far more petty concerns, and to attempt to direct the Emperor's accordingly.  I wished to warn you of that, before your foot fell into one of the snares placed for such as you and I.  This is not the court that it once was."

On the grounds of the palace estate, a little swirling wind kicks up from nowhere, and a wheezing, groaning noise starts to emanate from the spot as the form of a tall, blue box begins to materialize.

***

Nearby, a musical chirp sounds in the receiver implant worn by Guardsman-True Ensazin.  "Speak," he responds.

"Grounds Control here," comes the reply.  "We've registered the dimensional incursion again.  The phase disruption signature matches to within .005 zess.  Deploy to Quadrant Song, subsection Aria, block Mezzo-Alto.  Detain and assess."

"Understood, Control," says the guardsman.  He turns to his ready team, already checking the charge on his sidearm and loosing the scabbard catch on his blade.  "We have intruders on the grounds.  Come with me.  Our lives for the Emperor."

"Our lives for the Emperor," the three Guardsmen-Ordinary in his unit chorus in response.

They set off.

'I meant in the game. No mind, I'll get Sereth or Fadreen to show-and-tell me.' She figured it would probably be like snakes-and-ladders, or as Kangs played it in real-life, chutes and stairways.


Smoke was disappointed to find the paper statue so solid and heavy, even rigid, as sturdy as a concrete wall. It wasn't outgoing anywhere. Draconians were just like that, she'd found, especially Sereth. But how much more wonderful it would have been if this enormous statue of a warrior had simply leapt into the air and drifted on the breeze like a paper bag, like a dream? Eyespying the outlooks she was getting, Smoke Alarm stepped back. 'You should make them as light as pigeon feathers or paper bags, so they fly on the wind. It would be icehot.' she recommended sagely. She took some more pictures, then was ready to move on.

In reply to The Guardian (msg # 80):

Sereth had never had much time for political games. He might have been quite good at them if he had - he had the brain for it. But still...

"Not the court it once was? For better, or for worse?"

He feared he knew the answer, but better to be safe.

"That would be... novel," Taliro says, with a curious look on his face.

As he and Smoke Alarm walk on through the palace, Smoke notices that a lot of the things the Draconians keep in their brainquarters is like that.  Some are very elaborately detailed, but even the things that are like those sculptures, stark and simple, have something below the surface that you didn't suspect by looking at them.

A lot of what Taliro tries to show her is stuff that is supposed to be important for having been at such-and-such a place at such-and-such a time.  Lots of it has to do with fighting, which she knows is one way that many of the Draconians are unKanglike, and even some of the pictures are hard for her to make much out of -- Taliro says they're abstract images that stand for principles of virtue, like duty, and excellence, and truthfulness.

Smoke's attention is starting to wander significantly when, apparently at some unseen, unheard signal, everyone around stops what they're doing, and moves out of the way so that the carrydoors are wide-open and clear, and stand with their heads slightly inclined.  She sees a small group of Draconians moving down it.  There's a couple of obvious caretakers in armor walking ahead and behind the others, one in very swishy dark-colored clothing with a wide silver sash over it, and a pair in greens and browns who look like they're carrying big phones like Trav's Eye-pad, jotting down things as the swishy person says them.

"If it was for the better, there would be no need to warn you like this."

Aratannan nods meaningfully at the moving sculpture that is continuing its cycle of motion.

"I believe His Majesty will have your next assignment when you speak to him.  You will find it challenging, but I think it will be for the good that it takes you far from Draconia."

And Trav steps out of her Time machine, presumably followed by Amanda and Stan. She closes and locks the door, and has made sure that the TARDIS is locked down, relative to the position of the planet. It's an old habit from RIFTS Earth, after one too many Naruni attempts at theft.

As the they walk amongst the tourists, Trav breathes in deep the delightful floral scents of the Imperial gardens. She dials Sereth. Hopefully, he isn't busy. Trav has made her hat into a scarf (again, an affectionate nod to Boobie while modding for her own style. She's also taken to wearing glasses again.)


This message was last edited by the player at 21:00, Thu 21 Jan 2016.

Smoke Alarm was getting yawny, eyespying yet another oversized kitchen knife that clearly couldn't even fit in the drawer, let alone a pocket. She couldn't eyespy the point of it – well, she could eyespy the point, all the way over there, but it didn't seem practical to a Kang's outlook. It was too big, too fancy-free, like when No Smoking had started a wallscrawl so big she'd run out of wall before she'd finished it, and everyone had laughed, 'cept her. Sure, Sereth was icehot deadly with his, but how many rats had he caught with it, how many had he fed with it? But Taliro didn't seem interested in a comparative study of the respective cultural significances of Draconian honour-blades and Kang arrowguns.

When the visitors came-in, she eyespied the reactions of the others with bemusement, not thinking to scurry out of the way like them. They weren't hiding or fleeing from these visitors, or even keeping outlook – instead, they were not-outlooking, at the floor or even their toes. Why, they didn't outlook much different from the rest she'd seen. Was it some kind of game? Smoke Alarm decided to eyespy the swishy fancy-pants, to see if he would do anything interesting, like fly into the air or turn into a dog.


OOC: Sorry, bit of a mispost. I started on one device, finished on my computer.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:25, Thu 21 Jan 2016.

Whilst following Trav, Stanley admires the exotic flowers and the grand design behind the Imperial  Gardens. There must be a lot of gardeners to keep everything looking like this.

Amanda, by her expression, is a bit more dubious of the charms of the palace grounds.

"Feels... calculated, down to the last detail.  This is art form, wrapping up philosophical manifesto, rooted in iron political power.  Impressive, and not willing to let you forget it for an instant."

She shrugs.  "Of course, growing up where I grew up, if it doesn't have wide open -- and I mean, wide open skies, ffft."

It may be coincidental, but barely a few moments go by following Amanda's opinion when the path ahead of them is abruptly blocked by a pair of Draconians in ornate, yet entirely functional-looking riot armor, hands resting easily on the hilts of their swords.

The travellers glance around, and they see that they're loosely encircled -- there is an additional guardsman approaching them at four o' clock and at eight o'clock.

One of the pair ahead of them, the one wearing a narrow red sash, speaks.  "Your pardon," he says.  "I have the honor to be Ensazin, Guardsman-True of His Draconian Majesty's Life Guards. You've been observed disembarking from an unregistered transmat capsule making an unauthorized intrusion onto an Imperial preserve.  We take the security of these premises very seriously, and we'll need to escort you to a secure location while we notify your governments' diplomatic representatives of the charges against you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:26, Fri 22 Jan 2016.

"Charges against me? Unregistered? Ah, I see. I thought that these were the public palace gardens. But, as I am a guest, I do not wish to be rude. I am prepared to cooperate fully with you. I am slowly raising my hands." Trav slowly raises her hands and opens her coat. "You'll find two sonic personal defense pistols, a sonic probe, and a personal computation device, and a communications device. I presume you'll need to relieve me of them. You may treat me as you wish. Are my companions also being charged, as well, or are they also being detained?"

If the Draconians move to relieve her of her Turbopistols and other devices, Trav opines, "Mandy, this all passes. Only love endures." The Time Lord says this as someone who has literally seen this.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:48, Fri 22 Jan 2016.

"You should have chosen a better parking spot, Trav." Stanley sighs and also raises his hands. He has no doubt that Trav, or maybe Sereth, will find a way to resolve this peacefully. Preferably without first being thrown in some Draconian Imperial dungeon. Next time Trav should land the Tardis somewhere outside the gardens and use the front entrance like the rest of the tourists. That might be a good policy for most public attractions, though they would have deal with long lines and the local currency.

A quiet nod.

"Aye. Thank you for the warning; I'll be prepared. Even more so than usual."

Smoke Alarm feels Taliro tug at her sleeve, but not in time to change her behavior even in the unlikely event that this would affect her actions at all.

The robed Draconian notices her attention.  He and his entourage don't break stride at all, but briefly he gives her a withering glare.  It feels like the way Caretakers would look at Kangs, way back when, but with a hundred times the disregard and scorn, like he was a high muckety-muck full of himself and Smoke Alarm was barely more than a bug.

The group moves on down the carrydoor.  When they've gone out of sight, Taliro whispers to Smoke, "I'm sorry, I should have explained.  Staring like that isn't something that's done to high Ministers.  But I didn't expect that we would run across one in this part of the Palace."  He frowns, and then he makes a shockingly deep bow.  "Forgive me.  I have failed in my duty."

The Draconian guardsman move in briskly to disarm Trav.  They frisk Stanley and Amanda as well, politely and professionally, but thoroughly for all that.  Stanley is somewhat surprised when they relieve Amanda of a gleaming pistol tucked beneath her jacket, before he remembers the thriving gun culture of her homeworld Arden.

"This way," Ensazin says.  He starts to lead the travellers off as the other guards take flanking positions.  "We do try to make allowances for mistakes on the part of pilgrims and visitors, and I assure you that you will be treated fairly.  Still, this is the seat of the Empire and the home of the August Presence.  We take a dim view of unannounced incursions using exotic technologies."

OOC:

If anyone has any equipment they would normally be carrying that they want to try to conceal, or alternatively to try to protest or persuade the guards that they should be allowed to keep, you can make an appropriate roll and I'll come up with a response.  Concealment would be Ingenuity + Subterfuge, Presence + Convince would be appropriate for negotiating.

(I know, game rules!  Go figure.)

OOC: Trav has resourceful pockets. If I spend an SP, can I be considered to have passed the roll? Her real pieces and equipment are simply amidst all the junk she has kept hidden at the bottom of her bag.

I love game rules, because it keeps everything fair and cool. Like Ron Edwards says, Design Matters.

This message was last edited by the player at 19:37, Sun 24 Jan 2016.

OOC: Trav -- IMO that pushes the trait farther than it is meant to go.  Your previous post gave me the impression that you were for-real handing over your stuff.  If you want to spend a SP to hang on to your bag and, in future, pull out something that is not an obvious weapon, I'll go for that.

OOC:That's OK then, I'll hand over my stuff and rely on gab. Hopefully, we'll be able to talk our way out of this one, along with a show of good faith. And yes, 1 SP to hold the bag sounds great.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Sun 24 Jan 2016.

Trav kinda shrugs. "It's not like there was a 'No Parking' sign up. Do I look like a person who gives a hoot about traffic laws, Stan?"

Trav crinkles her nose. Do the 195th century Draconians have technology that can detect the arrival of Vortex craft?

OOC: Can I make a Ingenuity+Knowledge+Time Traveller (advanced interstellar) roll to know that?

As far Trav can recall, the Draconians of this period were not actively researching time travel or vortex technology.  That may be as much from finding the concepts philosophically objectionable as anything: she's certain that they would have been historically aware of such technologies.

She does recall Ensazin's charge concerning illegally operated transmat gear.  Presumably, whatever monitoring equipment they are operating to detect such things picks up first-order dimensional resonances from a TARDIS materialization as well -- that's quite feasible, if the TARDIS operator is not specifically attempting a covert transit.

OOC:

15:01, Today: The Guardian, on behalf of The Traveller, rolled 24 using 2d6+14 ((6,4)).

"No you don't, but maybe you should?" Stanley answers. "Prevents situations like this. Besides we could have walked here, we are not in a particular hurry."

OOC: Nothing to hide.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:51, Mon 25 Jan 2016.

Trav takes Stan's arm, as they proceed through the gardens. "You will make an awesome husband one day, Stan."

Her bright, curious smile sank into a dark pouting scowl at the outlook she got from the fancy-pants in the swishy robe. It was what Kangs always got from Caretakers and Rezzies, snooty-noses who thought they were all icehot and that Kangs were like rats and rubbish, like that wasn't all that they'd left them. In angry defiance, she shot her tongue out at him, but they'd already footed on and she was left eyespying their backs.

She outlooked wonderingly at Taliro as he bent over. 'Give me what? Come on, up you get.' She grabbed him by the shoulders and levered him back up. 'You haven't failed anything – I wouldn't've listened anyhow... I only wanted to eyespy what the fancypants were doing. Why don't you eyespy them? Is it so that snooty-nosed meanie-head doesn't bully you?'

Taliro hesitates.  Then he takes Smoke Alarm's hand and (if she does not resist) gently pulls her off to one side.

"It is meant," he says carefully, "to show respect for the people that serve at the very highest levels of the Emperor's government.  Every one of the Emperor's subjects is meant to do their part to support our ways and the future of the Empire, but people like the Minister stand above that, because they bear such a weight of responsibility for everyone's security and welfare."

Taliro draws a deep breath.  "Again, I'm sorry.  I suppose I thought you understood a little more of these things because Legate Sereth is a person with that same kind of responsibility, and he counts you as a trusted friend.  Not that he shouldn't," he adds hastily.  "But I suppose a Legate who goes out so much among the worlds and peoples beyond Draconia is a bit more informal about customs and protocols."

The Draconian guards escort Trav, Stanley and Amanda in the opposite direction from the towering palace.  They arrive at a low building that is no less externally ornate that the way-posts and free-standing sculptures on the grounds, but looks exceptionally solid and secure if you look past the aesthetic trimmings.

They pass inside the building into an area that is far more functional-looking, almost utilitarian.  "Have a seat, please," Ensazin directs them.  "Now, may I examine your identification?  Do any of you claim consular privilege, pilgrim status, or wish to enter a petition to your embassy?  You are free to accept administrative detention instead of offering your reasons for trespass and participating in a full debriefing.  I do not, however, advise that."

As Sereth wraps up his meeting with Aratannan, his personal comm starts to signal him with a priority security alert delivered by the Palace security service.  Aratannan's comm buzzes a similar warning.  The Legates aren't officially obliged to take any action -- the transmitted codes don't indicate imminent threat to the Emperor; it appears to be merely a courtesy notification due to their position.

Allowing herself to be tugged away, though not cooperatively, Smoke Alarm listened to Taliro's explanation, but it still didn't turn the lights on for her. 'Yes, I spose he is...' she agreed with a frown, not remembering a time when someone had ignored Sereth like that. Fadreen and Gilso and the Desads had talked to him properly after all. 'Well, if we Kangs want to show respeck to someone, well, we wave, or call out, or pat them on the back. That outlooking-down thing is like back-turning, ignoring – like when we wouldn't talk about Cleaners, or when No Smoking ate all the chockies we found once and no one would talk to her for three days.' she tried to explain. It was all so topsy-turvy.

Smoke fretted on the problem. Sereth hadn't wanted her starting a to-do, and mayhaps this thing with the mini-star would be a to-do, even if he did outlook like a right meaniehead. She had to fixit somehow. 'I knowhow to fixit! I'll outgo right up to the mini-star and ignore him, okay?' she decided forthrightly, spinning around and starting to foot after the high minister and his gang.


OOC: Impulsive, so much. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 11:29, Thu 28 Jan 2016.

Under usual circumstances, Sereth would have ignored that alert. But given what he'd just been told, and given that he'd ask Smoke Alarm to be doing something that she might consider... what would she say? Oh yes, 'yawny and not-fun', he had concerns. He picked it up and glanced at it; looking for tell-tale signs of Kangness.

Trav sits down, and she submits her US passport that is stamped for several US and Earth Federation dominions, up and down time.

"I'm the Traveller, from the planet of Gallifrey in the Constellation of Kasterboros. I'm here to meet with Legate Sereth, who as of late has been my travelling companion, on orders of the Draconian throne. If you can summon him, I'm sure that we can get this unfortunate misunderstanding cleared up. I apologize for the unfortunate intrusion - I'll be more than happy to move my capsule off of the palace gardens to whatever nuetral safe zone you designate, as I wasn't aware of the appropriate regulations. Please also be informed that my capsule is both unarmed and is a designated United States embassy and sovereign US Territory, as recognized by the Draconian Empire on these dates. I also am a United States citizen, and I request all appropriate diplomatic privileges and protections as afforded under due process."

Trav displays in her passport book the appropriate paperwork. "I claim consular privilege, as a peer of the government of Gallifrey of the House of Prydon. My capsule is both United States and Gallifreyan territory."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:28, Wed 27 Jan 2016.

Surprisingly, Sereth finds the details of the alert to be distinctly unKanglike.

Party of three unauthorized armed intruders on Palace grounds using esoteric transmat insertion processes.  Suspects apprehended peaceably, claiming mistake or misadventure.  Investigation proceeding.

OOC: This is all going to be Sereth trapped in a comedy of errors, isn't it? :)

He cleared his throat.

"If you'll excuse me, there is just the slightest chance", correction, almost a certainty, "that that security alert refers to an associate of mine. She can be somewhat impatient with bureaucracy, and usually needs me to find her way through it."

Assuming there is no objection, he, with all his skills, contacted the appropriate authorities to 'hold the intruders, I will be there to assist with the investigation'.

OOC: One day I'll roll well on the skills I am good at, and the world will end.
0:32, Today: Sereth rolled 15 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 3,2.  Presence + Convince + VoA.

Bureaucratic formalities like this tend to get more complicated when time travel is involved, but that is just the way it is. Stanley is not as nervous as that time on Arden, because he is a lot more confident that everything will work out. He waits to see what special status Trav claims, before handing over his own papers, including the U.N.I.T. CONSULTANT card.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:05, Fri 29 Jan 2016.

Smoke Alarm's declaration takes Taliro quite by surprise, so much so that she clears a dozen strides or more before the flabbergasted Draconian really reacts.  Even as he does start after Smoke Alarm, he is caught between the need to catch up to her and the wish to maintain some sort of discreet propriety on Palace grounds.

Smoke Alarm, meanwhile, has a bit more ground to make up.  She sees the Minister's group just as they're turning off into a side room off the main circuit of historical displays.  Smoke had peered inside one of these while Taliro was showing her around -- they were full of big tables and people sitting silently going over some of the books or scrolls that lined the walls of the rooms.  (When she had asked Taliro where the comics were and whether the Emperor had a copy of the The Very Hungry Caterpillar he seemed not to understand the question.)

The Minister and the others aren't behaving like a comic book reader, though.  The ones in armor are outlooking this way and that, seemingly to see if anyone is watching them, almost like Kangs outlooking for Caretakers.  But that doesn't make a lot of sense: weren't they the Caretakers in this place?

OOC: There is not a lot of cover or hiding space in the hallway, but there is some: it would be a Tricky Coordination + Subterfuge if you want to be unseen.  Of course that may not be in Smoke Alarm's plan.

(I thought you might go for "meany-ster". :p )
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 04:37, Fri 29 Jan 2016.

Ensazin looks askance at Trav's bona fides, and even more so when Stanley and Amanda present him with credentials of an organization out of the mists of antiquity.  His expression sets like stone as he mechanically makes scans of the different documents.  Stanley gets the uncomfortable impression that the Draconian thinks they're presenting him with deliberately spurious identification, and is trying to work out what their actual game is.  But the guardsman is entirely precise and correct and does not betray what he might actually be feeling.

Just as they're finishing these formalities, one of the other guardsmen reenters the room where they're being processed and murmurs something to Ensazin.  The other Draconian observing the proceedings apparently picks up the gist; certainly, he abruptly gets up from his seated position and, casting a glance at Ensazin and the one who brought the message, starts to retreat out of the room toward the as-yet-unseen portion of the building.

OOC: I could use some rolls from the PCs here.

First, you can make Presence + Convince checks just to basically establish Ensazin's opinion of you, aside from the plausibility of your story.

Second, you can make Awareness + Ingenuity checks, Stanley should add for Empathic.

Aratannan nods gravely when Sereth makes his excuses.  "Indeed.  Do be watchful.  Be assured that I will do the same, and if I learn anything of particular import regarding what we have discussed, I shall make sure you are aware of it."

Despite having only indirect experience with the security apparatus operated by the Ministry of Ways for the Palace, it does not take long for Sereth to navigate through the chain of command down to one of the arresting troopers.  While the man does not seem to have a particularly good eye for non-Draconian physiognomy, he gives a good enough description that Sereth can confirm the alert was caused by Trav and Dr. Newton and, apparently, their "Khezek-American" friend.

Once that is established, he extracts a hurried assurance that the interlopers will be held awaiting Sereth's arrival.


OOC: In this case you have a hefty bonus for being a Really Big Shot and in one of the places in all of time and space where being your particular type of Really Big Shot carries a huge amount of weight.  It's good to be the king Legate.

Trav has been through this particular song and dance thousands of times before. As the 2nd Draconian strides in and whispers to Ensanzin, she smiles serenely. "That would probably be word from Legate Sereth. Neither late nor early, his presence makes itself known precisely when necessary. He's an ideal to emulate."

02:37, Today: The Traveller rolled 17 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 1,6.  Trav figures out Enzasin - Awareness 2+Ingenuity 8.
02:35, Today: The Traveller rolled 12 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 1,2.  Trav makes a good impression - Presence 3+Convince 2+Voice of Authority 2+Charming 2.
Edit - Good Ol Trav - pissing off people through time and space even when she's trying to be nice.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Fri 29 Jan 2016.

More, Smoke Alarm didn't want Taliro to get into a to-do for not show-and-telling her all the ways, coz it was hardly his fault, as he hadn't even finished being her tower guide yet. So Smoke Alarm wanted to go ignore the high meanie-ster (hey, that was a good one!) all by herself. Oh, she was going to do some icehot ignoring at him. That would show-and-tell that meaniehead what a Kang was worth. Sereth would be so proud.

But as she catched up with the high meanister and his gang, she eyespied the flaw in her plan. Running after the high meanister and jumping in front of him wasn't really ignoring him, was it? It couldn't be less like ignoring him. No, she had to get in front of him, stand all casual-like, then outlook away. She just had to get there unseen first.

So, as the guards outlooked behind them, Smoke sidestepped into hide-in behind the corner of the carrydoor, outlooking back at them. Fortunately, they weren't outlooking for Kangs. These guards weren't like caretakers she'd eyespied before, they didn't 'ware wallscrawlers and shoplifters, she rememorised, they 'wared that Taliro wasn't outlooking at them, that she was. Strange, but everything was topsy-turvy, front-to-back, and not-this-way-up around here. Mayhaps they just wanted to eyespy if everyone was ignoring the high meanister.

Eyespying the gang foot it to one of the bookeries, she scampered forward down the carrydoor, darting between hide-ins, from ducking behind an elegant table to squeezing inside a doorway. At last, Smoke Alarm made it to outside the bookery. Now, all she had to do was go in, shoplift a roll-up comic book, ignore the high meanister and be outgoing, but a rat-like instinct made her pause behind the doorway, to stay in her hide-in, to listen and outlook first...


OOC: Insatiable Curiosity...
15:08, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,3. coordination(5) + subterfuge(3).
15:27, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 18 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 5,4. awareness(4) + ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Sat 30 Jan 2016.

Unlike Trav, Stanley isn't so sure that was a message from Sereth.

OOC:
The two requested rolls, first making an impression:
01:40, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 16 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 4,6.  Presence (3) + Convince (3).
and the other one
01:41, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 15 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 2,3.  Awareness (4) + Ingenuity(4) + Empathic(2).

He departed, and made his way to where they would be held. Just wonderful. They were probably here to pick up Smoke Alarm. A shake of his head. Armed seemed a bit odd; but if she was carrying her pistols maybe. At least there had been no altercation when arresting them. That would be hard even for him to talk them out of. In some ways, he was worse off here than elsewhere, because if he showed undue favoritism, people could use that against him.

Smoke Alarm steals up outside the doorway, quiet and clever as Us, and the pointy-headed Caretaker-likes fail to catch her at it.  They swing metal doors with fancy engraved patterns shut behind them after entering, but Smoke Alarm can hear talking through it anyway.

"You have... made the arrangements?"  This voice is male, but a little thin in timbre, and the speaker sounds a little unsure of himself.

A pause.  "I have," replies another voice, deeper and richer.  "Make no mistake, this is a grave matter, and no one regrets the necessity more than I do.  But with the future and the welfare of Draconia at stake... well, though it stain my whole line and bring tears from my watching ancestors, I do it willingly."

"Your courage shames me, sir.  I shall never forget it."

"And yet it may be that you must.  We must not meet again until events have played out.  It is vital that no blame or hint of stain must apply to you, your Highness.  If matters do not go as planned, you must not hesitate to disavow me."

More silence stretches out.  Finally:

"I understand, of course, sir.  But if that comes to pass, please know that you will be remembered in private honor, even if you are publicly branded traitor."

OOC:

21:50, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 2, rolled 10 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,2.  Awareness(3) + Ingenuity (3).
21:49, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 1, rolled 11 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 1,4.  Awareness(3) + Ingenuity (3).

Trav's assertions of her rights and standing, diplomatically phrased though they may be, do not seem to endear herself to Ensazin.  And even though Stanley is presenting evidence that may seem equally preposterous to the guardsman, the Draconian seems to respond better to Stanley's manner.

Perhaps, Stanley muses, just judging by Sereth, most Draconians are keen on the idea of a social order being very well defined and on people behaving within the limits defined for them.  Not that he is entirely sure how he himself fits into that scheme, but Trav, even when she tries, seems not to easily fit into any prescribed customs or protocol.

Both of them, though, note that some slightly skewed dynamic is playing out between the several guardsmen.  The third to arrive on the scene, the one sidling out, seems like he took more interest in the by-play between the messenger and Ensazin, and was making his exit with a peculiar, affected air.  Trying to sneak without sneaking, and not particularly practiced at it.

With the door closed in her face, Smoke realised she couldn't just foot in and shoplift a roll-up comic book now. She'd have to loiter, and listen while she was at it.

More yawny talky time between the Dragonians. Smoke Alarm wondered what all the fuss-potting was about, why they'd had to go to a hide-in and make sure there were no eyespies and eavedroppers – so what if they got stains on their dresses? They could always take them to the cleaners. Smoke couldn't remember if Sereth ever fuss-potted this much over his dress, but he probably wouldn't want to get it as stained and ragged as a Kang's clothes. It was high fabshion.

And what was a "trayter" anyway? Someone without this honour stuff, she guessed. Mayhaps there was something more outgoing here. She would ask Sereth later, but she'd need to have something to show-and-tell him first. And no way was she getting into a to-do without a show-and-tell of what a goodie-two-shoes she was being. Smoke pulled out a talkiphone, took a selfie beside the bookery door, then activated the picture-taker while she loitered.


OOC: Continuing eavesdropping and recording the conversation.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:46, Sun 31 Jan 2016.

Looking at how the guardsmen react and behave after the third one arrived, Stanley doesn't envy Sereth. Dealing with uncooperative management and the petty political games that are played in the hospital is bad enough, but here even the guardsmen seem to have different agendas. There is one thing that seems to be the same wherever you are: bureaucrats like it if you play by the (or even better their) rules. Just give them the required papers, answer their questions and don't make a fuss.Though in Trav's case, even though she has all these very important papers and titles, she kind of didn't follow the proper rules by landing the Tardis in the gardens. It seems that the Draconians don't like that.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Sun 31 Jan 2016.

Trav just sits and taps her foot, smiling slightly, like she could get up and walk out whenever she wanted to. She closes her eyes. These fumbling children, playing at importance. Their civilization hadn't even attained 1 million years of existence as a continual culture yet and hadn't breached the Time Vortex. This was fine. She could afford to be patient, these were kids playing pretend. She was literally the adult sitting down at the play tea table. Compared to the intrigues she's seen and been involved in between the houses of Gallifrey, this was the yelling of children across a playground. The Draconians would one day be great, but right now they were being less than impressive to her. They were reminding her of why she left home.

As her eyes meet Ensazin, she suspects he can see a little of what she is, and that he has no idea of how to deal with her. A truly mature civilization would be confident and relaxed with the unknown. Trav always went easy on Sereth in this regard, because just by travelling with her he'd learn how much his people had to still learn and how young they were, and their potential for greatness. She, like for many other peoples, was a test for the Draconians. Sereth was their answer. So far, it was a great one.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:56, Sun 31 Jan 2016.

Smoke Alarm manages to capture a fair bit of the conversation, enough that maybe Sereth might be able to make tails or heads of it, but shortly she sees Taliro finally catching up to her -- maybe he made a wrong turning somewhere.

Smoke has noticed that most Draconians seem to pride themselves on keeping their feelings off their faces and maintaining "dignity", whatever that was.  Taliro looks absolutely horrified by what she is doing.  He gasps, and starts to hurry towards her.

It's about twenty minutes' walk for Sereth from the Red Pavilion to the security blockhouse where the intruders have been detained.  As he enters, he sees a pair of the Palace guard keeping watch over Trav, Stanley, and Amanda.

The two guardsmen hurriedly rise, and offer Sereth formal salutes.  "My life at your command," the senior greets him.  "I am Guardsman-True Ensazin.  I offer my humble apology if I have erred and given offense due to misunderstanding the presence of these persons; I accept full responsibility."

Whatever dignitty (dig-knitting?) was, it didn't seem worth the to-do to Smoke; it made one a slowpoke, it happyness and sadness, it stopped one eyespying and sneakering and doing what needed to be done when it needed to be done. Now Taliro was a slowpoke full of dignitty, but mayhaps he was good at being quiet and sneakering around this palace also. Smoke waved him closer, then held a finger over her lips, signalling him for quiet.

Stopping Taliro behind the door, so he would be out of eyespy, she shoved the still-recording talkiphone into his hands. 'Hold this. Keep taping.' she urged, then her hand moved to slowly open the door...
This message was last edited by the player at 11:33, Wed 03 Feb 2016.

Trav is smiling, but otherwise keeps her mouth shut. She waits for Sereth's direction. Considering who she is, this indicates what high regard she holds Sereth in. She seems more mildly bemused than anything.

In reply to The Guardian (msg # 126):

Sereth was in full regalia. All the trappings of office. He nodded once to the guardsmen.

"If the security is always so prompt in apprehending potential threats, we are blessed. You could not know who they were." How could he? Sereth had no idea they were coming. "One more thing. A mention was made that they were armed? Do they still have their weapons? If not, I'll take them for safe-keeping."

Having dealt with the guardsmen, he then entered to meet with Traveller, Stanley and Amanda.

"Traveller. This is not a good time. Why are you here?"

For anyone well-versed in political games; the similarities between the Sereth they knew and this one were obvious. To anyone who had steered clear of such things, it was almost a different person. This was not their travelling companion, Sereth. THis was Legate Sereth, noble of Draconia. His demeanour, the way he carried himself, what he wore, even down to the way he wore his sword, screamed the Nobility here.

Why are you here? Bite your lip, girl, this is his house. If you tease him here, there would be reprecussions.

"Because there are things afoot of such importance that I needed to confer with the sword of Draconia himself. I'm deeply sorry that I caused disruption to the harmony of Draconia - for the next time I visit, if we can arrange a place where I can bring my TARDIS in, I'd be grateful. I sent you messages - I'm sure that because of disruptions in the Time Vortex, you didn't receive them. Also, where's Smoke Alarm? We all miss her." That is genuine. Trav's back straightens. Her voice cadence slows, her accent changes slightly. For a moment, she is a peer of Gallifrey, as in the old days.

The way she's talking is so unlike her. She hates it, but she loves him. "Can we retire back to my ship so that we can move it, to a more discrete location, under your supervision?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:02, Tue 02 Feb 2016.

Taliro's dedication to proper behavior and his general helpfulness get the better of him.

He doesn't take particular care to sneak into position -- though neither does he speak up or start to remonstrate Smoke Alarm.  But, without stopping to think, he takes the big Trav-enhanced handset from Smoke Alarm and holds it up in the position that Smoke offers it, aimed at the door.

It's only when she starts to open the door that he realizes what he's done, and can only watch events unfold in mute panic....

OOC: "Sneakering" is my new favorite verbing.  Verbing weirds language!

Smoke opened the door and footed boldly into the bookery and past the high meanister, cosplaying as cool as a cucumber cat. She even whistled, an oh-so-familiar anthem. The high meanister had never been ignored like this before! Most of the way across the room, she outlooked around, mostly to eyespy if it was working, catched the eyespy of the meanie-head, then outlooked down at her shoes just the same way as the Draconians had done. They weren't even untied! Then, she spun around, showing her back to the gang, Kang-style. Icehot!

Quickly she footed up to the bookshelf, carefully selected a roll-up comic at random, then, with her shoplifted prize under her arm, she turned and tracked back out of there – rather faster than before, as her nerve started to run out.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:36, Wed 03 Feb 2016.

Sereth pauses, his earlier conversation firmly in his mind.

"Oh very well. Your two friends will stay her as honored guests whilst we do so." A pause at the mention of Smoke Alarm; he still dreaded what she was doing. "She is being given the honor that few are given - a guided tour. There have been no reports of a disturbance, so she must be enjoying herself." Or behaving, the unspoken thought.

He had ulterior reasons for wanting Stanley and Amanda to stay here whilst they moved the TARDIS. Traveller had proven her discretion time and again; he wasn't so sure about the other two. And he needed to warn Traveller exactly what she was stepping into, just like he had been warned. Inside the TARDIS was possibly the best chance.

"Then, at your pleasure, Sereth. Oh, can you have my effects returned to me, since we're getting this misunderstanding cleared up? I'll be happy to stow the weapons on board sweet boy - I have no need to go about armed." Of course, Sereth knows that Trav is far more dangerous with just her sonic than her guns.

"Sereth meant honored guest, right?" Stanley whispers to Amanda, as Trav and Sereth leave. "That is not some sort of euphemism for hostage, is it?"

As Sereth retrieved the weapons earlier confiscated of his companions, he overheard Stanley, and shot him a sharp look, but he let it slide. In reality, Sereth was playing games, in games, in games.

They returned quietly to the TARDIS, with Sereth not returning the guns, though making it clear with a look at Traveller, that he had no intention of keeping them. She would know well enough that he put more stock in his blade than in guns of any description; and that Sereth and his blade was a match for many - even if they were the ones with the guns. He did not say a word until they re-entered the TARDIS.

For her part, Trav doesn't say a word - once Sereth is on the scene, she knew everyone was safe, for the time being.

Once aboard the TARDIS, Trav trots up to the control panel, and locates Smoke's phone.

"It is good to see you, old friend. We never had this trouble before - I've dropped you off a few times and I never had guards show up. What's happening?"

OOC: Just to be clear - Sereth is still holding onto Trav's guns and other stuff, at least until they get back to the TARDIS?

OOC: That's correct. The moment they're in the TARDIS, he'll hand them over. They're no good to him.

IC: The moment the door was shut, the tension eased out of him.

"Politics, Traveller. Games, within games, within games. I have been warned by someone I respect highly; to tread carefully. That there are those who are trying to direct the Emperors' mind to the way they are thinking. Not all place as high a price on their honor as I do. There may be traps waiting for me. Those guards - they seemed to be True Draconians; they were concerned of overstepping their authority when I took command. But all it would take is a mention of "Sereth, the man who feared a war with human dissidents" being seen to be overly lenient; and a trap might spring closed." A sigh. "I need to see my Lord; my mission with you is over. I have sources which state they believe my next assignment will again take me far from Draconia - and that that is for the best. I am not made for political games." A sigh. "You know the score. Stanley, Amanda, Smoke Alarm? They don't. If I had known what this place had become, I would have called the moment I discovered Smoke Alarm had come with me. Because if it is as bad as I suspect, those three could be used as pawns."

He may not like them; the face he had put on suggested he could be quite a formidable opponent in the game of politics - perhaps just as formidable an opponent there, as he was in swordplay.

Trav frowned. She hated it when it was time for a companion to leave the TARDIS, but that time did always come.

If he'll permit, she'll place a hand on his shoulder. "Now you know why I left home. Gallifrey was a lot like this." At the mention of his leniency, Trav opines, "the Terran writer George Orwell wrote that war was a way for the wealthy to siphon off the excess wealth of nations to the undeserving. There could have been those dishonorable types in Draconia who were counting on a war with the Fists, and a non-violent counter insurgency campaign with spray paint and chants entirely stopped it. Those same types may see it as a threat - if that kind of campaign can stop can topple the fists, that same kind of campaign can topple other dishonorable governments." She finds the parallels between Sereth's role in the Draconian government and her own during the Time War worrying. But the Draconian Empire hasn't gone down that terrible road - yet.

"Remember the skin sample of my dead peer, the Corsair, that we recovered on Estanve Gastem? It contained a message. She may have left something for me beyond the very end of time itself, that related to Warlock. Further, there are pieces of history connected to the Warpsmiths of Phaidon that are disappearing."

"Now, I know that these may not be directly related to the day to day business of the Empire, but you have never failed to support me. When the Parliament of Time gathers, Draconia of the 195th century's presence will be vital. The whole business concerning the Fists means that the Empire is already involved. I'd be delighted if you represented the Empire at the Parliament. The relevant documents and means of getting in touch should already be on your phone, along with letters of introduction and formal request for embassy from the respective governments involved. Should the August Presence wish for me to appear personally and explain the situation, I'd be deeply honored to do so."

Trav's face is soft. She's trying not to tear up. "I'm really trying not to be blubbery, because you're all about dignity, and we can't not have that. But you've been nothing but a beacon of grace and honor while here, Sereth. Not only are you strong and wise, but you are also gentle, in your way. With every step, you're an exemplar of how a Draconian should live. You make everyone's life better. It's been a privilege to have you here, and you've made my game better."

After that soft moment, Trav says, "as for right now, it's your play. I'm here to support you, but if you want, I'll take Smoke Alarm and go if that would be better. And something else - those who were attempting to manipulate Lucin, Warlock and the Fists could be here. I know how history should be, and there shouldn't be a war at this time - more, I can't tell you. I'm here to protect the Draconian Empire's choices from outside meddling - that's my mandate as a Time Lord." This, she says with utmost seriousness, the timber of her voice changing as she says this.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:40, Thu 04 Feb 2016.

"THe Emperor is just and wise; and there are many very honorable people still serving in the highest levels of Government here. But you are correct; in that there are more and more... dishonorable sorts serving as well. And yes; a war with the Fists could have been used by them." A shake of his head. "Even in their defeat, the Fists cause problems." He remembered the words of Artannann about the Fists - about their over-reaching. But also about his own people. Draconia had endured; the human empires rose and fell.

"Should your Parliament come to pass; I will be there. But for day-to-day? Our time together has passed. My first duty is to Draconia itself; then my Emperor, and finally to my honor. You do good things; but you do them across all time and space. That is not my role. My role is to preserve the honor, and the dignity of my people." He suddenly turned, and closed his hand over hers. "You, Stanley, Smoke? You are made for this. The stars will sing of you. They will sing of Brave Stanley, Wise Smoke, and Honorable Traveller. But me? My role is as it has always been - preserving the honor of Draconia. If there is a dark pit of corruption starting to develop in my home, I cannot turn my back. Whilst I live, whilst I have any say in the matter, Draconia will not suffer the indignities of so many long-standing empires, and fall to corruption. My role may not always be here, at the heart of the Empire. But it will always be serving my Homeland. I will give my life to stop that corruption if I have to."

"Allright, then. Chin up and move forward, like the Brig used to say. Let's find Smoke - It does you credit that you kept that girl so well behaved. I'd expect that your walk of 20 Heroes would have been wall scrawled with BLUE KANGS ARE BEST by now." She keys open the audio feed on the control panel, ringing up Smoke's phone to discreetly buzz here. She also uses the Vortex GPS - where is that girl?

Amanda doesn't respond until after Sereth leaves, although she does look a trifle nervously at Ensazin.

"I don't know," she said.  "The customs of these people are strange...."

"No," interjects the Draconian guardsman.  "Some high men of Draconia might use words that slither and writhe like vipers, but Legate Sereth is not such a one.  He would make you a hostage if he thought that was the true course follow, but he would not pretend he was not."

Ensazin bows to Stanley and to Amanda, if not so elaborately as he did to Sereth.  "I beg you, forgive me any discourtesy I have offered.  If you require refreshment or any service of hospitality, you have only to name it.  Guardsmen Drevadan and Alcadin will...."

He breaks off, suddenly frowning.  There's only one other Draconian still in the room with them.  "Drevadan.  Where has Guardsman Alcadin gone?"  He activates a comm tab on his collar.  "Guardsman Alcadin, you have not been dismissed.  Report."

Inside the reading room with the minister and his small entourage, there are just two other Draconians, both males.  One is a hulking brute, bigger and broader than Sereth, and a huge kitchen-knife hangs over his back on a velvety red sash.  The other is slimmer, and seems young, maybe Gilso's age or a little older.  His clothing is of a more casual cut, in subdued blue but with a rakish light scarf.  Smoke Alarm also notes that he wears a heavy-looking gold ring.

All of the occupants of the room are, at least at first, caught completely unawares as Smoke Alarm walks in to perform her elaborate ritual ignoring.  As she lifts out the scroll....

OOC:  Take a really, truly most sincerely Impulsive story point.  Then roll me a Presence + Resolve: that will reflect just how much this performance stuns them and how long it takes them to react.

OOC: I threw in Brave, since it applies to Resolve and Smoke has to have some real whatever-Kangs-have-instead-of-balls for this. That's a 16.
13:44, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 16 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 4,5.  presence(2) + resolve(3) + Brave(2).

It is good to hear that they are not hostages. Stanley just thought that the Draconian rules and customs had forced Sereth to phrase it differently. The guardsman is right about that not being Sereth's style, though.

Thinking back, Stanley had noticed one of the guards leaving. He had assumed that somewhat unusual way the Draconian made his way out of the room, almost as if he tried to exit without being seen, had been because of Draconian etiquette. Apparently not. "He left almost immediately after that message was delivered." Stanley said, trying to be helpful.

Smoke Alarm's unexpected interruption catches the Draconians long enough that she successfully gets back between them and the door, almost back to the hallway and Taliro, before they really react to her.

The minister splutters in anger.  "Armsmen!  Take them!" he snarls.

Both of his guards as well as the brute with the sword spring forward after Smoke Alarm and Taliro.  The latter of whom, momentarily, stands rooted and terrified, holding up one hand mutely as if in submission, even while the other is still aiming Smoke's talkiphone into the room.

Ensazin's expression twists and darkens, though not, Stanley senses, in anger at him precisely.  Into his comm he says, "Control.  Give me a trace on Guardsman Alcadin's comm and monitor."

A tinny voice is buzzing something from Ensazin's earpiece even as the other Draconian, Drevadan, is pointing at a similar piece of equipment where it has been sitting unnoticed, tucked under an angled monitor screen.  "I think that won't be useful, sir."

Ensazin whirls.  "Something is wrong here, something deeply wrong.  Politics and agendas are afoot."

He looks at Stanley.  "You are guests and you are my responsibility.  But you are also known to Legate Sereth and he has vouched for you.  Will you accompany us to search for Guardsman Alcadin?  Something about your coming has precipitated this and I fear it will be of personal concern to you."

OOC: Trav was pinging Smoke's phone. Is it picking up anything of what is happening in the room?

Caretakers! Coming to take her to the cleaners! Smoke twitched, instincts firing and ready to run...


OOC: I figure Impulsive would make her run, but Sereth did ask her not to get into a to-do, so she would try to talk. So, dramatic struggle!

11:16, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 10 using 2d6+4 with rolls of 3,3. ingenuity(3) + resolve(3) + Impulsive(-2).
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 03:21, Sat 06 Feb 2016.

OOC: I am going to string out Smoke Alarm and Stanley here on their own for a bit: they are going to have the chance to get well and properly into trouble before Sereth and Trav can drop back into events.

OOC: It wouldn't be Dr Who is there wasn't a vortex of danger that other heroes couldnt drag us down into!

Stanley frowns and briefly looks at Amanda to see how she reacts. It probably means something that Ensazin is asking Legate Sereth's guests to accompany the search. Stanley has no idea how declining would affect Sereth's reputation. Not that he wants to decline: he doesn't really feel like just waiting here, knowing that there is a rogue Guardsman walking around in the palace. It is better to go out there and search for him, than having an enemy knowing precisely where you are.

"I do not know what Alcadin's goal is, but I think it is a good idea for us to get out of here. With Legate Sereth and The Traveller gone and the Guardsmen busy with finding Alcadin, now might be a nice opportunity to kidnap or attack us. Like I said, I don't know what his goal is and I am sure that your Guardsmen are able to defend us, but being mobile won't hurt. For all he knows we are staying here, so we should leave."

"Very well."  Ensazin frowns for a moment.  "Perhaps the more prudent course is to get the pair of you in safer hands first."

Then he calls on his comm again.  "Control, note that Guardsman Alacadin has abandoned his post without orders.  Put a primary lockout on his security clearance and initiate a Level Three security scan to isolate his location.  Notify the watch commander that we have two guests with Meritorious Outlander status en route to Central for transfer to protective custody."  Signing off, he nods to Drevadan.  "And fetch the lady's sidearm from the impound locker.  Just in case."

The group leaves the blockhouse with Ensazin in the lead, Drevadan in the rear.  The Draconians both have hands to their swords and guns in hand, scanning warily from side to side as they start to move in the direction of the Palace.

OOC: Same caveat for Sereth: Ensazin's actions are going to start a rash of security notifications that are shortly going to come across his comm.  But not just yet, as they may or may not be muddled by fallout from whatever Smoke Alarm ends up doing....

OOC: I figured my struggle was a failure, but since it was close, I decided you might want to arbitrate. Is a "No, but..." even possible?

OOC: Well, it is ultimately up to you what your character does.

The only thing I would suggest you think about is that Smoke Alarm hasn't just put herself in a really tricky spot, she has kind of dragged Taliro into a no-win scenario where his talents aren't really suited to action hero shenanigans, but socially and culturally speaking he is looking at a boulder rolling at him down a very tall mountain.

He could, at this point, chime in with some additional and highly pertinent information if that would help you formulate an action.

OOC: Well, Bad Traits are for getting PCs into trouble, with consequences. But Smoke did make a genuine promise to Sereth. I'll spend the SP I just earned to cancel my Impulsive, and stop and Talk instead. Though I suspect failure is inevitable.


Smoke Alarm almost ran, her sneakers rising, turning toward the door. But, outlooking ahead, she eyespied Taliro. He was a slowpoke, a scaredy-cat, they would catch him take him to the cleaners for sure. And, more, Sereth had asked and she had promised, p:inky-sweared no ball-games, no fly-posts, no to-dos. She couldn't get Sereth into a to-do here, in his own tower. And he would be so disapproving. Smoke wanted to run.

But she turned around, outlooking fiercely at the caretakers, standing her ground, or, rather, carpet, like a cat. She would be a diplo-mat, like Sereth, though he'd never seemed like a mat to her. 'Why for? I only cameout here to nod my head at you all proper, after me eyespying at you before, to show-and-tell you respeck and honner, the Dragonian way. Even if you are a meanie-head. Eyespy, we don't want a to-do. No ball-games, no fly-posts, to-dos. That's the Kang way, Kang's honner.' she told him boldly.


OOC: And here's the inevitable failure.
12:08, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 8 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 1,4.  presence(2) + convince(1) + Brave(2).

The guards close in around Smoke Alarm and Taliro, who seems to Smoke like his body is trying to pull him in several directions at once -- to run, to duck his head, to fall to his knees.  The minister's pair flank Smoke Alarm, while the bigger one clamps a hand around Taliro's forearm -- the one that is holding Smoke's phone.

"Indeed," says the Minister.  "I should expect nothing better from the sorts of mongrel aliens and commons of whom Legate Sereth is so fondly indulgent."  He nods to the big guard.  Taliro is hauled bodily into the reading room, and the door is shut behind him and Smoke.

"Smoke Alarm!" Taliro gasps.  "That's -- that's the Heir-Tributary.  But--"

"I'll have that," says the Minister, indicating the phone.  After the guard plucks it from Taliro's grip and hands it over, he studies it briefly, then works the controls experimentally until it shuts off.

"I see.  A datamat.  Primitive outlander design, of course.  You see, female, you have intruded into business which is far, far above you, and whether or not you are truly ignorant of it is practically immaterial.  Because you are an associate of the Legate, and that makes you an extremely valuable opportunity to be exploited."  He glances at his aide.  "I think 'suspicion of espionage' will do to hold these two safely out of the way until this moves into the endgame.  What further use may be made of them, well, we shall have to see if our good Legate looks like he will become a nuisance."

Feeling panicked and unbrave, Smoke outlooked in alarm as the caretakers grabbed them and closed the door. Caught in a mousetrap! Talking was sposed to work, wasn't it? That's what Sereth and Traveller always said. Mayhaps she should have run, as her instincts show-and-telled her. But Kangs didn't waste time on should'ves. She had to eyespy a way out. 'He doesn't even have hair.' she muttered to Taliro sourly, listening to the high meanister.

It was clear as windows that he wanted to get Sereth into a to-do, somehow, and she'd comeout and given him the peanut butter for the mousetrap. 'You leave Sereth alone!' she demanded hotly, angry at the meanister and herself, for getting herself and Taliro into a mousetrap and her friend into a to-do. 'And let the tower guide go! This was my idea! All me, not him.'
This message was last edited by the player at 02:42, Mon 08 Feb 2016.

"No, you don't understand; that means he's the son of the Emperor -- but not the Crown Heir, not the one to become Emperor, if the Emperor--"  Some of the green washes out of Taliro's complexion as he looks at the others.

The Minister shakes his head.  "No, little human, your friend here already understands too much for his own good.  Intent has precious little to do with it."  He turns to his aide.  "Summon an escort from the Ministry offices.  A trusted escort."

The one that Taliro called "Heir-Tributary" looks uncertain.  "Would... would it not be better to rid ourselves of these problems while it is convenient to do so?"

The older Draconian seems to consider this, then: "No.  Their uses narrow down considerably once they are no longer living; besides, it is much easier to make the living dead than to accomplish the opposite."

Unalive? She had to fight now, before more caretakers came. And they hadn't grabbed her arms yet, they'd underestimated a Kang. 'No!' Smoke Alarm yelled suddenly, lunging for the Minister like a furious cat, hands reaching not for him, but for the talkiphone–


OOC:
1st action: Smoke tries to snatch the talkiphone back: 19, with a SP spent.
11:37, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 19 using 4d6+7 with rolls of 3,5,2,2. fighting(3) + strength(4) + SP.

I have more, but first some questions:
(a) Is the talkiphone completely switched off, or is Smoke able to quickly make a call?
(b) Does Smoke have her arrowgun and grappler, were they left back at Sereth's apartments, or would these goons have confiscated them?
(c) Is anyone guarding the door?

OOC:

a) I would say that you would have to make a separate action to turn it back on, as Minister Lestasel made a point of deactivating it, and by Talk-Move-Do-Fight that probably means the guards will get to take a poke at you between your retrieval of the phone ( the success of which seems probable, thought I haven't rolled it yet) and using it.

b) I think they would be back at the Blue Pavilion.  You can have a story point for me declaring this, because it was previously undetermined, but I think that outside of unusual circumstances (as is currently occurring with Stanley & Amanda) the Palace Guard would take an extremely dim view of people who aren't them -- or those with obvious dispensation like Sereth -- taking weapons into the palace, even archaic or "toy" sorts like the arrowgun or the grapple gun.

c) Not as such, although by moving from where she was (with the guards next to her) to Lestasel, Smoke has put those guards between her and the door.

OOC: So, how would you say this action-packed round goes? Like this?
Move: Go for Lestasel
Fight: Grab the phone
React: Dodge the guards
Do: Activate phone, send video

No weapons: Fine by me.

A reaction roll dodging the guards, with a SP and probably sucking -4 for being a third action.
13:24, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 18 using 4d6+6 with rolls of 1,1,5,5. react: coordination(5) + fighting(3) + Kang Fu(2) + SP - 4

Whatever the Minister might have expected from Smoke Alarm, it clearly wasn't that.

She darts forward, throwing the Draconian guards off balance to snatch the talkiphone right out of the Minister's mitts.  As the guards recover and go for her, she is already working the controls, and that is enough distraction -- just! -- for one of them to get a solid grip on her right arm.  (The other goes careening past her into one of the shelves of scrolls.)

However, being mousetrapped by the Draconian isn't enough to stop Smoke Alarm from her goal.  The phone plays its little startup jingle; the little screen that the Traveller added to the bulky black handset lights up with the message Blue Kangs are Best!

To be replaced, within moments, by the word Sending....

OOC:

20:06, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 2, rolled 14 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 5,2.  Grabbing Smoke Alarm: Strength(4) + Fighting(3).
20:06, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 1, rolled 18 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 5,6.  Grabbing Smoke Alarm: Strength(4) + Fighting(3).
20:02, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister Lestasel, rolled 14 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 6,5.  Evading Smoke Alarm's grab: Coordination(2) + Fighting(1).

Outside the TARDIS, Sereth's personal comm abruptly goes bonkers.

There's a flashing notice saying Level Three security alert now in effect, bearing a mugshot of a Palace guard officer.

There's a priority Special Alert notice next to tiny pictures of Stanley and Amanda.

And finally, as Trav's query to Smoke Alarm's phone finally registers a hit, Sereth's phone dings with the message Ware Cleaners! and a progress bar shows that he's being flashed a video capture.

The Draconian frowned as the alerts came through. He was about to check them both out; when the message from Smoke came through.

"Traveller. Never mind pinging her phone for now. You may want to look at this."

The other two concerned him; and there was rage about it, as he felt his sword at his side. No matter Draconian views on humanity; they were -his honoured guests-. If anything happened to any of them...

Although trapped and anchored by one arm, Smoke Alarm continued ducking and weaving wildly around the Draconian musclebrains, using her meagre weight to unbalance them. If she could tangle them up in themselves, then all the better.

Most of all, she kept her talkiphone tightly gripped in her left hand, tucked up near her armpit as she furiously tapped buttons with her lone left hand. "Ware Cleaners!" wasn't the templated txt she wanted to send, but the viddy-file show-and-telled the whole tale anyhow. She'd eyespied a big, big secret, a plan to trick and trap Sereth and mayhaps hurt lots of Dragonians. He had to know. It didn't matter if she was taken to the cleaners, coz Sereth would comeout after her. She trusted him to do that, coz he was brave and bold as a Dragonian could be. And so was she. Come on, upload!


OOC: I assume the phone isn't done yet, so continuing as before.
Do: 1st action, continue working the talkiphone, as long as necessary.
Fight: 2nd action, evade guards (inc. -2 for 2nd action)
10:45, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 18 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 6,4.  coordination(5) + fighting(3) + Kang Fu(2) - 2

Trav's eyes go wide. snap snap go her fingers, and an interactive map of Dryn Savato comes up over the TARDIS console. Immediately, she pulls the time machine up into temporal orbit, between seconds, to buy them one gigantic advantage that their enemies will not have - time. She's also pulling up Smoke Alarm's transmission, and being careful for any Draconian anti-transmat measures. While she doubts that anything that 195th century Draconian science can defeat her and Sweet boy, no reason she shouldn't be careful. Smoke's video immediately plays over the TARDIS' console.

"I'm pulling us up into temporal orbit. We're between seconds, so we can plan. We have a time machine, Sereth. We're not going to be time travelling backwards, but we can act between the seconds, and we can transmat anywhere on the planet. That advantage is at your disposal. It's your play."

"I'm pretty certain that I can bring the TARDIS around Smoke, and then Stan and Amanda, and pull just them out. It'll be a little tricky, but I've done maneuvers like this before."

Making a transport roll to freeze the TARDIS in time, so that Sereth and Trav will be able to comfortably plan - what's the difficulty? Ingenuity+Transport?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:10, Tue 09 Feb 2016.

Even with one of the Draconians clinging doggedly to her, Smoke Alarm keeps up her one-armed game of keep-away long enough that she hears the tell-tale ding! of her file being safely beamed away into the airwaves.

OOC:

22:15, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 2, rolled 14 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 6,1.  Wrapping up Smoke Alarm: Strength(4) + Fighting(3).
22:15, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 1, rolled 14 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 6,1.  Wrapping up Smoke Alarm: Strength(4) + Fighting(3).

OOC:  With a TARDIS handy, your base total for anything you might choose to do with it is so high that there's not much point in going through the motions of a roll.

The only real influence on your actions is going to be Sereth.

'Ha ha! Slowpokes!' Smoke whooped, glad to eyespy the viddy-file had been sent. That would show-and-tell Legit Sereth everything. He'd have the knowhow of what to do. Not that Smoke would rest on her bottom now; now she had to get herself and Taliro out of this mousetrap.

Focusing on the caretaker grabbing her hand, she hissed 'You're not my friend, don't hold my hand!' She hurled herself forward in a roll, trying to twist her hand right out of the Draconian's claw, pitting her agility against his strength.


OOC: Trying to escape the hold, 17
2nd action: move to the door

"Traveller. I need you to send a message to Smoke on your phone."

It had to be something Smoke would understand, but that would mean nothing in case someone else had caught her. Of course.

"Build high for Happiness. The Green Kang comes."

Meanwhile, he was checking the details of the security alerts.

"And no. We do not go in and rescue them. This is exactly what I was talking about. This plot, this corruption? It ends here. Today." He drew his sword, and held his hands on its hilt. "For the honor of my family, of my home, this will end. This I swear."

This was not the same as his vow to defeat the Fists. THis was personal.

"Human empires have come and gone. How many empires have risen and fallen of Terra since we first engaged them 169 centuries ago? But we have endured. And now a rotten heart has risen in the heart of Draconia itself. But even if I have to give my life to preserve the Draconia I have served, this does not spread. It dies."

OOC: Obviously, Sereth knows a fair bit more than I do about political games. It takes time to arrange an audience with the Emperor; so is there a divison focused on rooting out plots/conspiracies?

OOC: Totally.  While it is officially assumed that such things Just Don't Happen, there is a Ministry of Virtue that supplies things like internal investigators, political officers, and the like.  Thus it is run by a Keeper of Virtue, there are Factors of Virtue (agents), etc.

OOC: In that case; a bit more.

IC: After checking the alerts; mainly to be certain if Stanley and Amanda were in immediate danger, he then looked into arrangements for an urgent appointment with the Minister of Virtue.

"In case I am stopped, Traveller, make a back-up of that video."

Sereth smiled grimly.

When a good man goes to war...

Trav gravely nods. "That video is here. Chibi, sweety? Can you help out big bro Sereth?" The kawaii agent pops up out of Sereth's phone and smiles.

"Chibi here now works for you. She will take a copies of that video and will plant them wherever you like, and can infiltrate any data system in the entire Draconian empire. Further, I have it safely backed up here. I can broadcast it or transmit it to wherever or whomever you want it, anywhere in time and space."

Trav then opens the com for Sereth to repeat his Green Kang line.

Smoke Alarm wriggles and eels her way free despite the Draconian's best efforts, and his cohort is not doing much more than get in his way.  However, the guard's grip is just tight enough that Smoke Alarm rather pops out of it rather than making a clean getaway.  She tumbles toward the door, scrambling up by the gleaming brass handle....

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a shuffle of motion, back away from her toward the far side of the room....

"GIRL!" snaps the Minister.  Something about the way he says it feels very like Sereth's way of talk, even though Sereth is never cruel and never treats Smoke with anything less than Kangly respect.

She looks back.  The Minister has retreated, along with the musclebrain Draconian who has mousetrapped Taliro.  And now the big bruiser has a secure hold on Smoke's guide, and is aiming a funny-looking pistol directly beneath Taliro's chin.

"Surrender," the Minister says.  "I am preparing to make the greatest sacrifices I can imagine for the sake of the Draconia I have given my life to.  I will not hesitate to add another innocent man to the sacrifices I contemplate.  I remain a Draconian.  Surrender, and he will not be harmed; surrender and you may yet see the end of this matter alive."

OOC:

21:33, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister Lestasel, rolled 19 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 3,6.  Intimidation against Smoke Alarm: Presence(5) + Convince(3) + Voice of Authority(2).
21:30, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 2, rolled 12 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 3,2.  Helping capture Smoke: Strength(4) + Fighting(3).
21:29, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Minister's Guard 1, rolled 17 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 4,6.  Holding on to Smoke: Strength(4) + Fighting(3).

OOC: Don't have time for IC yet; but for the record, Sereth would have sent his message as a text.

Judging by the alert status, it appears that Stanley and Amanda are, if not obviously in a place of safety, are not facing any imminent threat.  And at the least Sereth knows that they are under the care of one Draconian who understands true duty.

His request reaches, somewhat surprisingly, a young female clerk whose face appears on the vidscreen.  "My lord!" she responds in a surprised tone.  "You have business with Keeper Shenzaro?"

Shenzaro.  That was a name from a long time ago.  He'd been a fading legend of the Chelonian Wars even back when young Cadet Sereth was still blue around the ears.  Sereth remembered, now, when the old hero had received the Emperor's command to lead the Ministry of Virtue... that had to be decades back, now.  Had he grown senile and careless in his post?  Was that how such sinister things had wormed their way into the very heart of the Empire?
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:00, Thu 11 Feb 2016.

That bossy-boots voice stop-signed even Smoke Alarm, her hand fingers from the door handle. She turned slowly, and eyespied the meanister and his musclebrain caretakers, holding a horrible gun to poor Taliro. Her hand darted for her hip; with her arrowgun, she could mayhaps shoot the gun away, but it wasn't there – they'd made her leave it at Sereth's home-sweet-home. They said she'd be sound-and-safe. They were wrong.

Smoke was shocked and appalled; how could they hurt him like a dinner rat? Would they even dare, make him unalive? She could still run and still be free – they'd never catch her in the carrydoors – except they might hurt Taliro, just a scaredy-cat slowpoke tower guide. But it had never been her plan to run, only to open the door for Taliro to run through. And a Kang would never run and leave someone to be taken to the cleaners in her place.

She was beaten, caught in a mousetrap. But when she spoke, her words were icehot – cold yet full of fire, still with a spark of Kang defiance. 'I guess you can't imagine very much.' she told him boldly. 'You were not even making much of a sackrifice. You were only going to stain your dress, your honour, and that's easy-peasy. Now you're going to make your meaniehead musclebrain hurt Taliro for you. That's no sacrifice to you. You're just a cowardly cutlet!' she taunted, usually not the wisest course in the circumstances.

But she still had her talkiphone, and though she hadn't had a chance to read the text message, her finger had dialled Sereth...


OOC: Resist: 10, so much a failure
13:36, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 10 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,2. resolve(3) + convince(1) + Brave(2).
Talk: keeping him talking
Do: ring Sereth, get him to overhear
This message was last edited by the player at 12:51, Thu 11 Feb 2016.

OOC: Trav's priority would still be to locate the entire team and remotely monitor them through the phones, with audio if not video, even if we're just holding station for now while Sereth devises the plan of action. Can that be done? Note that if we listen in, time moves forward. If we're in temporal orbit, then time should literally freeze in regards to events on Draconia until we choose to act, but we can't receive info because we're literally between individual seconds. Trav will of course brief Sereth on these facts so he can work this into his strategy.

Sereth had to speak to Shenzaro. Apparently anyway. It was unfortunate that time would move forward, but that was the way of it.

As he responded to the clerk, he was all business. This was not Sereth, a legate between missions. This was Legate Sereth; a Draconian on a mission.

"Yes. I do. I need to speak to Keeper Shenzaro on a matter of the utmost urgency." He dare not say more. Given who had been seen on the video; he did not know how far this spread. Despite Shenzaro's advancing years; he doubted highly if he was involved - except that he was possibly no longer the great man he once had been.

"All right, then - I can have Chibi locate this fellow, if he's anywhere still on the grid, and you can either call him or I can land the TARDIS literally in his house. What would you like to do?"

"Also, Sereth - if any of my companions are hurt, there will be consequences, for the individuals involved. From me." And for that moment, she's not Trav, their time travelling buddy - the facade drops, and she's the ancient time lord, The Traveller, that hurricane. She's been restraining herself for Sereth's sake, and for Draconia's. But whoever is threatening her companions had best hope they meet Sereth's justice first.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:54, Thu 11 Feb 2016.

Taliro gulps.

"Don't worry about me, Miss Alarm," he says.  "I am no fighter.  Not like a Draconian ought to be.  And I think I may have made more mistakes today than I have in all the rest of my life.  But the one thing I know is that these men are in the wrong and their plans can not be allowed.  Find the Legate!  Help him stop this!  Go!"

There's a brief pause while the clerk glances down at something offscreen.

"Certainly, sir.  For a Legate of Draconia, Lord Shenzaro's schedule is clear.  Shall I link you through, or will you want to meet him here at the Ministry?"

Sereth knows that the Keeper of Virtue's personal offices are within the Palace -- like the Ministry of Secrets, there is a dedicated (if smaller) headquarters elsewhere in the city, but the Keeper is meant always to be near to the very heart of the Empire.

"I will meet him at the ministry."

He then turned to Traveller.

"Take me to his ministry. Immediately. Try to avoid notice; I cannot let any chance that my meeting gets out before I have it."

Unlike Smoke, he -would- have his weapon - both of them. His sword, and his words.

"THen, rescue Smoke. Find Stanley and Amanda. TO the guardsmen they are with, and only him, you can say you are acting under my orders to find the missing Guardsman. And when you find him, remind him he is lucky it was you and not me that found him."

His eyes glimmered.

"These men are without honour. And by the time I am through, all Draconia will remember that without honour, we are nothing."

"That means I'll need to leave off the parking brake. There's a reason for that sound, it's a safety measure that tells a time lord whether or not the interface between the 4th dimensional shell and the inner block transfer structure is working right. Anyone who would leave it off is someone who wasn't initiated at the Schism and doesn't know the Rassilon transformations or real time travel, just a Vortex manipulator jockey. I had to explain this to a Time Agency pal who thought he was a hot time capsule pilot but was strictly an amateur who though they knew what they were doing. I had to smack his hand away from Sweet Boy's console, we almost ended up materializing into a moon."

"Do you know where this guy's office is? I'll take you right to him."

"As for your guardsman - I'll tell him that he's lucky that I'm angry at other people, and that he's not harmed my friends, and he's like you. The worst you can do is dishonor or kill him, Sereth. I brought them here, they're my responsibility."

OOC: Take dig at River Song and bad Moffat writing. Then, taking a passive scan of the place, and then making a silent TARDIS entry to Sereth's designated coordinates. This is important, so I will drop an SP onto this. Ingenuity+Transport?
This message was last edited by the player at 08:00, Fri 12 Feb 2016.

OOC: Sure.  It has already been established that the Draconians have transmat detection gear that can pick up the echo of a TARDIS materializing, so call it a Difficult (21) to beat that.

'I wasn't calling you a cowardly cutlet, Taliro.' Smoke Alarm said, still eyespying the meanister. 'And I'm not gonna be one and leave you behind. I'm not outgoing anywhere.' she declared, planting her feet and standing her ground like a cat. Somehow, she'd turned the whole "surrender" thing around and into a refusal to leave, making it on her own terms, her own choice. She was brave and bold as a Kang should be. But inside she felt very unbrave and unbold, a cold and shaky feeling like there were dogs on her back. She was going to be taken to the cleaners, even made unalive, if Sereth didn't lost-and-find her. But she was brave and bold as a Kang could be. 'I'm brave and bold as a Kang should be.' she said, show-and-telling herself as much as Taliro and the meanieheads. 'And Legit Sereth will search-and-rescue us.' That she knew for sure, with total faith and certainty.


OOC: I guess Smoke's surrendering / letting herself get captured, which might earn her a Story Point.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:59, Sun 14 Feb 2016.

In reply to The Traveller (msg # 186):

A pause.

"Traveller. You misunderstand why you need to say this. Here, on Draconia, with a few exceptions, my displeasure is of more concern than yours. This might be a mistake; but you work with perceptions; not reality. You tell this guardsman that he is lucky that the Traveller was distracted? That means very little, to -him-. But inform him that -I- know, and I am upset? That carries more weight. Yes, you can do more to him than I can. Yes, your wrath should be more greatly feared. But we are not talking about war here. We're not talking about reality. It's perceptions - and you keep saying that you do -not- wish to become that feared incarnation of yours, the Marshall again? Prove it. Rather than forcing their perceptions to change by showing that you are more terrible than anything they could imagine, use their perceptions they have of me instead."

"You're right, your man doesn't know. All right then, out of respect for you, we'll carry out your play. I'm the Traveller, Sereth. If the people I love are hurt, I will leave the people responsible in shattered ruins. I'm a Time Lord. You deal in your people's perceptions, but I frankly do not care for their proprietary or traditions when my companion's lives are at stake. My civilization was a billion years old before I destroyed it. I urge you, cut like the blade you are, or else I will come down on the people who are threatening my folk like the hurricane I am. You and what you're dealing with is all perception and politics, I am a fact. Your man doesn't know me, you know better. The Bayonians used to say, 'The weather laughs at the Emperor.' Don't let me hit the coast, Sereth."

The Traveller's eyes narrow in a terrible fury. "Bringing us in now."

01:28, Today: The Traveller rolled 28 using 4d6+16 with rolls of 6,4,1,1.  Ingenuity 8+Transport 4+SP - Stealth materialize into Sereth's Ally's offices in a hidden location .
This message was last edited by the player at 06:32, Sun 14 Feb 2016.

He whirled.

"Be better than them. Because he is just a pawn; and if Smoke is in danger, it is because of -me-. This reaches possibly to the very highest level; and she, as well as my man Taliro I am certain, are in danger because of -me-. You can bring down civilizations, without a doubt. But can you save them? Can you fix what is damaged, without destroying it and bringing it back? Right now, we have that chance. If I fail here, everything I have worked for my entire life will be undone. Do not let your pride get in the way of what must be done. Because if I am successful, that guardsman will lose all honor, will have sacrificed not only his own honor, but that of his family, because he let someone talk him into something he shouldn't have done. My eyes are on a bigger prize. My eyes are on his masters, whether he's bought and paid, or just foolish. You worry that you brought them here, and so their lives are on your head? I worry that they are in danger because they wish to weaken me. I worry that they are in danger because someone wants to use them as leverage against me. And, I am sorry, but I cannot let that happen. If they are caught, they will either fake crimes against them and point the finger at for letting foreigners into our land. Or they will ask me to back off, to sacrifice everything that I believe in, or they die. And if I surrender, my Empire dies with that surrender. But if I surrender, they live. They will ask of me the immpossible choice. My men, I know that my surrendering I dishonor them as well as myself. This guardsman is working with them. If he dies, he dies. I do not care. He lost all honor when he entered this conspiracy. But if we can make him remember who he is up against, he may have second thoughts on continuing down this path - especially if it was mere coin that persuaded him."

"We'll save them together, then." The time rotor moves up and down. ding!

"I have ideas, but I want to hear yours first."

"We're here. Get ready. Your plan?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Sun 14 Feb 2016.

A sigh.

"The man I am here to see; is the Minister of Virtue. His very job is to catch some corruption; such problems. He is also a war veteran of the Chelonian wars; I have every faith that he is still an honorable man. But given who was in that video, I cannot ignore the fact that some of his staff may not be so honorable. If I had every faith, I would have walked here; but I wanted to make sure I could meet with him before word came out that I was planning such a meeting."

A deep breath.

"However, he is also old. I do not believe they could turn him to their cause; but it is possible that in his age, he has overlooked things that he would have stopped when he was in his prime. The recordings from Smoke Alarm will help. But he is old, and I do not believe they would hesitate to kill him. What I wish, is for him to deputise me, for a brief period only, to act in his stead. They won't hesitate to try and kill me either, but I think they fear it. THey also fear my reputation. Beyond everything, I always put my honor, the honor of others, and the honor of Draconia above everything. If I speak out, I cannot be easily silenced. Thus the grabbing of Smoke Alarm, if they have her. I will willingly put the honor of our proud race ahead of the lives of my men - they knew who I am, and they know that they die with honor if it comes to that, for serving with me. But I cannot do that for Smoke Alarm. She is a great girl, but her honor is different to the honor of my people. I cannot ask her to accept that sacrifice. But if I can persuade the man I see here that this is a very real danger, and he asks me to act for him, with all the honor for this act going to his ministry, to Draconia, and to him? Then I can move directly against them. But it will be hard - these are some of the very highest levels of Government. If I cannot..." A sigh. "Then I must accept the public disgrace, and move against them anyway. The conspiracy fails. What people think of me does not matter as much as what I know in myself is true. Even though I will lose everything in so doing; my family's honor will be intact." A deep sigh. "But I cannot do this if they hold Smoke. They will hold her against me, and I cannot make the choice that honor is more important than living on behalf of a non-Draconian. Stanley and Amanda are safe; he is a good man they are with. He was the one who called the security alert; and he would never have let me leave with you if he was not loyal. Collect them by all means once Smoke is safe; but he can be trusted."

Escorted by Ensazin and Drevadan, Stanley and Amanda proceed on a twenty-minute hike that takes them along an oblique route, steering away from the grand main entrance and its avenue of shrines.  Instead, they reach a more utilitarian, functional-looking checkpoint on the eastern side of the huge structure.  The building towers over Stanley; at the base of it, he can't even really make out the shape of it, looking up at its overhanging terraces.

Ensazin gives his credentials and the group is passed inside.  The four pass through another interior checkpoint and into a large operations center, the equipment and displays are similar to the guardhouse they were originally in, but here there are over a dozen troopers and watch officers looking over a dizzying array of monitors that show the grounds and scores of cycling interior views.

A Draconian wearing a slightly more elaborate version of Ensazin's uniform approaches the groups, and addresses Ensazin.  "Guardsman-True.  Report."

"Praetor Nenkarris!"  Ensazin comes to attention and begins recounting the details of how the trio from the TARDIS were intercepted and question, leading up through Sereth's arrival and the subsequent disappearance of Alcadin.

"It is unusual in the extreme," Nenkarris agrees, "but not necessarily proof of malfeasance."

"Ordinarily, no, sir.  But I find it suspicious that Alcadin's dereliction comes in conjunction with the arrival of these strangers -- but only after Legate Sereth appears to vouch for them."

"Yes, that is a question of great concern," cuts in a new voice.  Stanley looks to see another Draconian approaching from across the ops center.  This man is wearing a different livery than the Guardsmens' uniforms, and as he approaches the group he focuses on Stanley.  He gives a courtly nod to both Stanley and Amanda.  "My name is Rilsessan," he says, "Second Factor in the Ministry of Virtue.  May I ask you to describe your association with the Legate?  Where did you first come to meet him, and what activities was he engaged in at the time?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:14, Mon 15 Feb 2016.

With Smoke Alarm opting against Taliro's plea that she abandon him, it does not take very long for additional Draconians outfitted like the Minister's guards to arrive.  "Take them to the secondary administrative block," he tells them.  "And keep to the functionary passages; keep this as discreet as possible."

He turns back to the prince.  "Your Highness, you and your guard should remain here until I signal that we are well clear.  Maintain the pretense that you are researching here in the archives.  This intrusion complicates matters, but I believe it may still be turned to our advantage.

OOC: I am assuming that they will shortly figure out that your phone has been running and take it away; if you acquiesce to that and go quietly, go ahead and take that story point.  And then I'll describe where & how Smoke and Taliro are relocated.

OOC: Sereth & Trav may feel free to continue their conversation; this is where your transit to the Ministry of Virtue will eventually end up.  I'm assuming Trav is coming with Sereth.

In the reception area for the Palace suites designated for the use of the Keeper of Virtue, there is no wheezing, groaning sound to presage the arrival of the TARDIS; there is barely a whisper of breeze before the blue box fades into existing without fuss, slotting neatly between a pair of tall carnivorous lyrsakken ferns.

When the TARDIS door opens, the aide that Sereth spoke to earlier is waiting with a complex obeisance.  "That is quite a signature method of travel, my lord," she says.  "And this would be your outlander assistant, Miss..."  She consults a data pad.  "'Smoke Alarm' ?  Very well, that should be all in order, then."

At the far end of the lobby there is a great pair of heavy carved doors with wrought bronze handles.  The aide leads them through, into a sumptuous office with a magnificent desk of gleaming reddish wood, with a wide picture window looking out toward the city, flanked by immaculate flags of the Empire and the Ministry.  The chair behind the desk is unoccupied, and the aide smoothly steers the two toward a smaller side door.  "Keeper Shenzaro does not care greatly for ostentation these days; except when he has formal ceremonies and presentations to conduct, he prefers to work out of his private chambers rather than the master office.  I hope you will not feel it is a slight to your position."

The door leads down a short corridor to another, smaller room.  Here the walls are lined with shelves of volumes bound in blue-scaled zerrvic leather, the flagstaffs support battle standards that, although cleaned and restored, have clearly suffered from laser and blade, and behind the much smaller desk where the Keeper sits is a gleaming steel rack holding blades and axes.

Keeper Shenzaro sits at the desk, one of the old journals open in front of him along with a scattering of hard-copy documents.  He is a barrel-shaped Draconian; his face bears old burns and scars and half of his left ear is missing.  But he rises to greet the pair when they enter.

"Legate Sereth," he says, in a voice gravelly from long use.  "Welcome back to Draconia.  I understand you have some business for my attention."

As pinky-promised, and rather against her instincts, Smoke Alarm loitered, even after more caretakers came. She had to find a way to get slowpoke Taliro away from these meanieheads. The best time would be when they were taking them to the cleaners: less caretakers, open carrydoors. Until then, she eavesdropped, and so did her talkiphone. Discreet, huh? Smoke Alarm didn't know the meaning of the word, literally.

While they were talky and distracted, before they snatched her talkiphone away again, Smoke seized a ticktock to send her recording to Sereth. He would know where the functionary passages and secondary administrative block were. She found she had a txt – Build high for Happiness. The Green Kang comes. – and smiled. Sereth was outcoming!

Taliro was still a scaredy-cat though, and Smoke Alarm tried to give him braveness when they were put together. He wasn't a Kang though, and mayhaps Kang words would not work. Not even Draconian words, which had it all wrong anyhow. She thought of something new. 'Rememorise the sazu? It's paper, but it can be strong as bricks or it can fly like a kite. Paper can bend and fold, and that makes it stronger, so it won't tear. It can make new shapes, it can be a plane or a ship or a duck or a warrior. You can be like paper, you can fold and be stronger. Then you can be brave and bold as a Draconian could be.'


OOC: Smoke will relinquish her talkiphone and go, though probably not quietly. :) Smoke will try something en route. How many guards are there?

Smoke's inspiring words should let her give Taliro a SP later.

The Draconians quickly hustle Smoke Alarm and Taliro out of the area with all of the displays and book-rooms and into a set of corridors that are much less fancy, all gray metal with a funny chemical smell.  They are eventually bundled into a large elevator that is of a piece with the hallways, and then they start going up, up, up -- to a native of Paradise Towers, zooming up dozens of storeys is, of course, a familiar sensation.

When the elevator stops, they come out in a part of the building that is likewise not as finely decorated as the areas where Taliro was originally escorting Smoke Alarm, but this looks more like people actually do things here -- it is simply plain white walls with eye-spy monitoring devices and featureless doors with control panels next to them.  The guards take the pair into one of these and scoot them inside.  "We will be back when the Minister gives us new orders about how he intends to make use of you," one says.

Inside the room, Smoke Alarm sees that there is a door panel like the ones outside.  Right after the door closes, there is a buzz and a little light on the panel switches from green to red.  The room has some plain plastic chairs, a table and a little cot, and through a door in the back Smoke discovers that there is a little restroom.



"Perhaps you're right," Taliro says.  "I mean, I know there is no shame in not being big or strong or trained to fight.  I know my place in the world and I try to fill it well.  What we discovered -- well, you, largely -- is not something that fits with the world as I know it, so perhaps that is just a sign that we have to find the right shapes for ourselves that fit the challenges we are given."

He sits cross-legged on the cot and closes his eyes, murmuring softly to himself, and he seems to grow calmer both from this and from what Smoke Alarm has said.

On the way, Smoke Alarm kept up a long stream of chatter designed to annoy her captors, asking where they were going, where each carrydoor led, what each door opened up onto, why the alleviators didn't have muzak, if she could outgo to the toilet on the way, and of course the ever-popular, oft-repeated "Are we there yet?" At one point, she tried to break out into a rousing rendition of "Blue Kangs, Blue Kangs, Blue Kangs are Best!" as a way to signal for help. 'Bring food and drink please!' she shouted at the caretakers as they left.

But that was it, the door locked and she was stuck in a mousetrap, to be taken to the cleaners or made unalive. Was this the dead-end of the carrydoor? Taliro might have been reassured by her words and calmed down, but Smoke's tension rose and rose like an alleviator. She had no target for her braveness, no outlet for her energy or anxiety. She hated being in a mousetrap, being locked in a room, being taken to the cleaners. She needed to move, to escape, to be free. So she prowled around and around the room like a cat, outlooking for a way out, any way out.

First thing, Smoke tried the door panel – she knew it was locked, but she had to try. Then she checked for windows, hatches or vents she could fit through. Then she really got to work.


OOC: I imagine Past Trauma will come into play here, being captured by caretakers.

Is there a window, hatch, or slot in the door? Are there any vents? Anything Smoke can fit through?

I guess they took the talkiphone again. Was she allowed to keep her backpack and junk?
This message was last edited by the player at 23:32, Mon 15 Feb 2016.

"I'm going to go after Stan and Amanda first. Smoke is more capable of taking care of herself and they're still with your man, as far as I know. Due to their non-Draconian physiologies, our people shouldn't be too hard to find, even without their phones. You'll be the harder person to find, ironically - a needle in another pile of needles, once you walk off this TARDIS. What do you want to do if your talk with your old Mentor doesn't work out?"

Trav is working to locate Stan and Amanda via the TARDIS sensors. Being one of only 4 time travellers currently on Draconia with differing physiologies should make them stick out. She traces the phones, but also looks for the distinct biosignatures of 2 humans and a Khezek who are time travellers.

"Chibi, find Amanda, Stan and Sereth's phones, please?"

OOC:01:51, Today: The Traveller rolled 9 using 2d6 with rolls of 4,5.  Trav scans for Stan and Amanda - 2d6+Ingenuity 8+Science 6+Research Capsule 2 [Forgot to add up - 9+16=25]
This message was last edited by the player at 06:53, Mon 15 Feb 2016.

Trav has changed again, back to her an old classic look - her tweed jacket and jeans and Uggs she wore during her first hundred years as the 5th Traveller. The Fedora is cocked to the side. This is a sign of subtle respect to Sereth - he's getting the Traveller, here, with 100% attention and respect.

She's carrying her weapons if Sereth has advised that it's allowable, as well as her UNIT ID hanging off a lanyard. Those are badges of office, just as much as Sereth's blade is to him.



Trav bows her head respectfully, and follows Sereth's lead.

A pause.

"No, not Smoke Alarm, but she is due just as much respect. It is about Smoke Alarm I will speaking with the Keeper about, as a matter of fact." A quiet smile. "I do not believe Keeper Shenzaro could slight me, not matter where we meet. It will be an honor to discuss things with him in his private chambers."

He bowed elaborately to Shenzaro, before taking a seat.

"Indeed. What I have to show you, and play for you, could be a grave threat to the honor of our great home. You will understand how dangerous it could be when you see and hear it. I just ask to remember one thing - no matter what people may think of me, remember my loyalty has always been to the Empire first and foremost. I have no reason to lie."

He then played first the video, then the voice recording (if it had come through) for Shenzaro.

"I understand I'm asking you to put a lot of faith in me, but I do believe I have shown my loyalty many times before."


OOC: Oh lordy.

00:23, Today: Sereth rolled 11 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 2,1.  Presence + Convince. There may be some other bonuses though.

OOC: Yipes. I'm sitting on 4 SP. Can I give Sereth 1?

It is a bit of a shame that they didn't get to see the main entrance and shrines. This route is probably safer and quicker.



"My name is Stanley Newton. Pleased to meet you." Stanley greets Rilsessan. For some reason, he can't shake the feeling that he has to be very careful in how he answers the Second Factor's questions. It is not unusual for someone in Rilsessan position to asks those things after an incident, but he could also be looking for things to use against Sereth.
"I can assure you that, as far as I now, Legate Sereth has nothing to do with your deserting guardsman."

"You wanted to know where I met the Legate and what he was doing?" Stanley would love to mention that the Legate was just walking away from a crashed spaceship, when they first met, but maybe that would give the wrong impression. "I met legate Sereth on a planet...wait no it was a ring. It was a ring-like artificial station called Farhaven. A lot of people came there to flee an extremist group called the Fists. The Legate was helping refugees whose ship had just crashed on the planet. Since then we have been travelling together. 'We' also includes The Traveller and Smoke Alarm, you might have seen them. "

"I hope that answers your questions." Stanley sighs. Maybe he should have mentioned that they not only travelled, but also solved problems. Or that Trav is setting up a Parliament of Time. "But I don't see what this has to do with the current situation."

OOC: I have plenty of story points myself; I was just waiting to use one till I asked the favour.

OOC: Noble and Voice of Authority are definitely in there.  I was iffy about VoA until I went back and read it in the book... I think there is a certain extent to which it is amazing for getting your way with subordinates and less so with your peers, but still, in this case it's good.

So that is a 15.  I am going to give Shenzaro an Ingenuity + Convince roll as he assesses this to see how skeptical he is, when I get to making a proper post.  And he will have a good base number for it, but if you're at least within the "No, But" range he won't dismiss this out of hand.  Plus you can use an SP to bump your outcome if it's worse.

OOC: Just assume I'll use any story points I need to at least get it to No, but.

"It is an extraordinary association for a Legate of Draconia, that is all.  Particularly when a group of his associates appear on the grounds of the Palace, carrying weapons -- forgive me, Mr. Newton, I am clear on the fact that you were not personally doing so -- in, shall we say, theoretical proximity to the August Presence.  Doubtless, Legate Sereth has his reasons."  Rilsessan puts a hand to his chin, as if in thought, and glances at Ensazin.  "You're certain that Guardsman Alcadin did not explain his reasons for departing?"

"He certainly did not, sir."  Stanley notes a certain tension from both Ensazin and Nenkarris.

"A shame.  One would have wished that the Guardsman could have confided in his patrol leader if he had some misgivings or insights about the turn of events.  Let us then hope that the search locates him so that we may find a full explanation, and that he does not fall prey to some misadventure in the meantime."

Trav's scans indicate that Amanda and Stanley are somewhere on the east side of the Palace, near its base.  Smoke Alarm seems to be somewhere below and to the south of the TARDIS's eventual destination in the Ministry of Virtue.  While Stanley and Amanda appear to have their phones on them, Smoke has been separated from hers -- it is not a great distance away but it has clearly been taken.

OOC: I dunno, probably not.  I got the impression that Kangs per se were not terribly intimidated by Caretakers.  It's not like the Draconians are Cleaners.


When the Draconian guards dump out Smoke's backpack and start rummaging through it, she feels horrifically violated.  She's not terribly surprised that they end up confiscating the small knife she had tucked in there and forgotten about, but most of her stuff they just stuff haphazardly back in her backpack, which they toss back at her.

Smoke Alarm's search of the room and the adjoining 'fresher starts off looking none too promising, until she notes the slight air current in the room.  When she shimmies the table over next to the wall, she's able to stand on it and find the source of the draft -- a panel among the others on the wall, high against the ceiling, that looks solid but is passing air through.  It's a duck!

Not a big duck, admittedly... Smoke isn't so sure that a chubby Us would fit through it; herself, she's even less certain about.

OOC:  You have the stuff listed on your sheet, except as noted.  I'm prepared to entertain suitably... entertaining notions for what makes up some of the vaguer categories.  Also, it strikes me that Smoke might be the sort to have hidden bits in her pack where she tucks things away for emergencies.  If you want to try an Ingenuity + Subterfuge roll, you have a chance of having something that the guards would definitely NOT let you keep.

Or, come to think of it, maybe the Us already left you your Christmas present. :)

Shenzaro's expression is dubious as Smoke Alarm's recordings start to play, but as the events unfold his expression gets grimmer and grimmer.

When it's done, he sets his palms against the flat of his desk and pushes himself to his feet, drawing a deep breath.  Shanzaro is a proud man, and he has reason to be.  Sereth sees cracks in that pride, and it's something he never expected to see.

"Legate," Shenzaro says slowly, "you have got a reputation over the span of your career, and I do not hesitate to say, if it were not for that, I might think you the greatest fraud to ever walk through those doors, and I might just take a good tool off the shelf--" he taps the weapons rack behind him, "--and pay you for it, here and now.

"As it is, I am near to thinking I am the one as must pay for shame.  This was never the service I wanted to do for Draconia, but there was no more war, and this was the work His Majesty asked of me.  What's the word?  Unimpeachable.  And yet I'm thinking I am just a blind old fool to let this happen.  Those two don't come out and name their goal, but there is a precious short list of what it might be."

OOC: And you were worried.

22:36, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Shenzaro, rolled 4 using 2d6 with rolls of 3,1.  Pondering Sereth's evidence: Ingenuity (4) + Convince(4).

Trav notes on her Ipad where they are, as Sereth talks with his superior. She silently buzzes Stan and Amanda, to indicate to them, I know where you are and you'll be alright. She makes sure to track Smoke's phone - she should be able to see everything around those phones when she wants to, and oboy, does she have some surprises planned for the jack asses who are harassing Smoke.

If Sereth will allow the moment of interruption, she shows him exactly where on her Ipad Smoke's phone is, and then turns on the camera, displaying the faces and exact location of the people Smoke scanned. She doesn't say a word, but merely bows her head respectfully to Shenzaro.

When the Draconians had rummaged through her bag, Smoke Alarm had outlooked in horror and dismay. She was shocked as they shoplifted her knife, old, tarnished, and sharpened so many times it had lost half its width and a straight edge. That knife was a tool and utensil, not a weapon, not since... never. But she didn't complain, she'd expected them to take that. Mayhaps she could get it back later, and her talkiphone. But when they dared lay claws on Puddy, Smoke Alarm had cried out 'Puddy! Gimme back my Puddy!' and struggled furiously until they decided it wasn't worth the bother, and threw the toy contemptuously at her. Smoke had seized the stuffed cat doll and hugged it tight, seeking the reassurance of her oldest friend.

*

Despondent by the size-too-small duck, which just seemed to tease her, Smoke Alarm slumped against the wall, then finally sat on the floor. Taliro already had the bed. She thought desperately on her options, turning over everything she had and could do. How could she fire-escape this mousetrap? She knew Sereth was coming, he would search-and-rescue her, but there no way he should do it alone, no way she could loiter. She had to fire-escape on her own first. But she also had to get Taliro out, which made it harder. He definitely couldn't fit through that duck.

Irritated at the meaniehead caretakers going through her stuff – didn't they eyespy the "Do not Tuch!" sign? – Smoke Alarm took it all out again and began putting it all back just the way she liked it, inspecting each and every item as she did. She didn't have Dev's grapplegun, not even her arrowgun, arrows, and tools for making more. She had her wallscrawling paints, even if she probably wasn't allowed to wallscrawl the Imperial Palace (though she had a mind to now). She had duck tape, which was always useful. She had a towel; she never forgot her towel. Souvenirs like the Dalek plunger arm she'd shoplifted on Siluran Earth. She had her smoke alarm, which held up reverently as her totem. It didn't sing of smoke or fires, fortunately.

And she had Puddy. The little stuffed black-and-white cat toy was worn and grubby, no longer white, and had lost some of his fur. The seams around neck and legs had been redone once or twice. His face was crooked, some of the stitching for his whiskers had popped loose, and she'd replaced one of his eyes with a button. There didn't seem a single part of him she had not replaced or remade. But he was cute and clever and wise. Once upon a time, he had talked and kept her sound-and-safe in the worst and darkest times. Now he only outlooked, now trusting her to keep him sound-and-safe. And still he helped and saved her. He was her oldest friend, her constant companion, since before time start. She'd never been without him, she couldn't imagine ever being without him. She hugged Puddy tight, the cat nuzzling her neck, making her feel sound-and-safe again. They parted, Smoke outlooking into the cat's mismatched bead/button eyes, as they outlooked knowingly into her dark and desperate eyes.

And then she ripped his head off.


OOC: Where else would Smoke keep a secret escape kit? :D Set of tools, screwdriver, lockpicks, etc. okay?
15:06, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 20 using 4d6+6 with rolls of 2,6,1,5.  ingenuity(3) + subterfuge(3) + SP.

A bow.

"With all due respect, you are not to blame. At least, not entirely. Me, and others like me, must take our share of this. I have been one of the biggest proponents of peace, though not at any cost, and I never considered what to do about the war veterans, once who had honed their skills to be our mightiest warriors. Yes, many, like yourself, were given other jobs to occupy their time - but I never once considered coming to talk to them, to see how they felt with their new jobs." A shake of his head. "Besides, those who are truly to blame, are these honorless men who have made this plot. Some, like the missing guardsman, might be saved. But those two men there, they are lost. They are without honor, and nothing that anyone can do to save them." A deep breath. "And with all respect, it matters not whether we made mistakes to allow this to get so far. What matters is what we do now. These are important men, do we really have enough proof to officially act?" He then kneeled, his sword held across his palms. "In this, I am your man. If you believe we can act officially, say the word. But, due to the peoples involved, unofficial actions are needed? I will do so, should it cost me my life. But I do know, that I believe they've capture my outlander friend who sent this video. They must know that I suspect them. And the longer we tarry, the more prepared they will be."

Draconians and their etiquette. Rilsessan's reaction makes it seem like it is not a big deal. Stanley doesn't know if that is because he doesn't take the situation seriously or because Amanda and him were guests.

"With all due respect, I think he did this on purpose and not with good intentions." Stanley begins. "He left his comm device in the room, ensuring that you wouldn't be able to track him that way and the timing is very suspicious. If it was just a mistake, he should have been found by now. You said it yourself: you don't want someone with an unknown motive and a weapon this close to the August Presence."

Some misadventure...Stanley is getting more and more worried. It is not unthinkable that Sereth is the target of this plot and if that is the case then maybe Alcadin is just a pawn. "Second Factor Rilsessan, when you find Guardsman Alcadin, I want to talk to him."



There is a reason Trav is silently buzzing them, but Trav is safe. For now at least.

"There will be a queue, Mr. Newton, but you may be assured that your interests will be considered."  He looks at Nenkarris.  "Your search is proceeding?"

"It is," replies the officer.  "You may be certain that we will be diligent in our work until all aspects of this matter have come to light."

"Just so."

The three Draconians engage in a complicated exchange of differently calibrated bows amongst themselves.  As Rilsessan begins to turn away, he looks back at the others, almost as an afterthought, and adds, "You will, of course, keep the Legate's associates safely and securely."

Nenkarris responds, in a tone that Stanley finds is very finely poised on the edge of mockery: "Just so."

Rilsessan departs, leaving behind the Guardsmen with the two travellers.  There is more than a little disdain on their faces, now that the Factor has gone.

Looking at Sereth where he kneels, Shenzaro nods briskly.  "Up, man.  You're quite right that there's not time for this."  He give Sereth a keen look.  "I expect you've an idea of where to start with this.  Unworthy of either of us, to leave your friend a hostage.  But, too, she has forced their hand.  They will be setting wheels in motion now.  We need to account for His Majesty's safety, straight off.  But we've no good idea of just how deep the rot runs."

OOC: Absolutely.

Besides having the tools to try to do whatever you have in mind next, you can have a +2 bonus to stick in your pocket for when you need it.

In reply to The Guardian (msg # 217):

He sheathes his blade, and nods.

"I fear I do. Tell me, can you tell me where all your agents and officers are at the moment? Because if I was hatching a plot of this magnitude, the first thing I'd do is see if any in the Ministry of Virtue could be turned to my side; the more important the better." He then turned to the Traveller. "Where are Stanley and Amanda now? Things move quickly; and though Dr Newton has impressed me on more than one occasion, I doubt that the pair of them have as much flexibility to deal with these things as Smoke does."

Trav flips over her Ipad, showing the locations of both them, and their phones, giving a live feed from the TARDIS. "I want to go get them right now. Shall I? Also, I know where Smoke Alarm's phone is. As long as the conspirators have it, I know where they are. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can track their coms anywhere on this planet." Trav bows her head to Shenzanzo. "My Lord, with your and Sereth's leave, I offer my vehicle to secure the safety of the most August Imperial Presence. It's unorthodox, but once within, he shall be safe from any harm. It has transported heads of state before and has traveled from literally one end of creation to the other - certainly, no other mode of transport is more fitting to the Emperor of Draconia."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:12, Wed 17 Feb 2016.

It seems like Stanley has to be content with that answer. Maybe, if he insists and involves the fact that they are Legate Sereth's guests...but that wouldn't be wise.



"Well....that was useful." Stanley says, after Rilsessan has finally finished doing all the required bows and left the room. "Maybe we should try to find Alcadin ourselves?"

"Should be able to do...."

Shenzaro shuffles some of his papers aside to reveal a small data pad.  He picks it up and starts pick out selections with the hesitation of a man more used to doing business with much coarser instruments.

"Hngh."  He frowns.  "I have most of my lieutenants where they should be, doing what they ought.  Couple of them off duty.  But these three--"  He displays the pad to Sereth.  "Two have missed their scheduled appointment, and I have got a Second Factor who was meant to be in an administrative meeting across the city, but he's on palace grounds, down at Checkpoint Three Scarlet, right where the fracas over this AWOL guardsman is going on."

Shenzaro's look is dubious.  He shoots a questioning glance at Sereth.

"Technically," Ensazin says, after a look at his superior confirms that he is not talking out of turn, "this is exactly the business of the Ministry of Virtue.  But I'm not inclined to keep you out of it if you have a mind to assist."

He shows Nenkarris the scans he took of Stanley's and Amanda's UNIT IDs.  "These look like entirely legitimate credentials of a major foreign power to you, don't they, sir?"

"Unquestionably," Nenkarris says blandly.  "I should be grateful of any professional insights our guests can offer."

A grim look.

"How very interesting. I would recommend cancelling any security clearances all three of them have. If you can, do it quietly. If a public hue and cry must be done due to protocols, state merely that, after the incidence of Guardsman Alcadin, all who are not where they are meant to be are being investigated thoroughly."

He then turned to Traveller.

"It will do much for the honor of our people, the respect of this very ministry, if we can solve this without resorting on hiding him in the TARDIS. It may come to that, but it shouldn't be the first choice. For now though, I think we need to go and reunite with Amanda and Stanley, and bring them up to speed. I intend on trapping this Second Factor; the same way he, I have no doubt, wished to trap me."

His gaze returned to Shenzaro.

"I would ask you to come with us, on this occasion. I think it's time we collected 2 more of my outlander companions. An old friend made a comment to me recently. We have endured for centuries as one empire; whilst humanity has just returned time, and time again. He suggested it was because they adapted; whilst we just reacted. Maybe it's time we actually learnt something from humanity."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Fri 19 Feb 2016.

"I simply offer my vehicle as yet another tool for the capable hands of the servants of the Draconian throne. For how you have risked yourself on my and the entire cosmos' behalf, I'd be remiss in not offering you the resource. Even though your capabilities are beyond question, Sereth, honor impels me to make the offer. As I said before, this is your play. My resources are for you to deploy as you see wisest."



800 years of grace under pressure barely enable Trav not to boggle at that last admission from Sereth.

Old fluff spilled from Puddy's neck and half-severed head, until Smoke Alarm lost-and-found she was outlooking for: screwdriver, knife, a saw blade without its handle, a fork with bent tines, assorted keys, a spool of wire, and other various odds and ends that had no names but certainly had uses for an inventive and desperate Kang, all tied together with string. It gave a floppy old Puddy something to hold him up, and a way for a Kang to get out of a locked room when she had nothing else.

Rueful, she restuffed Puddy and quickly attached his neck with two safety pins. Good as new! The sad- and put-upon-looking cat gazed critically back at her. 'I knowhow, I'm sorry, but I really need them. Like before. I don't want to get taken to the cleaners again. I'll stitch you up proper later. Promise.' Guiltily, she stuffed the cat back in her bag before he could make her feel any worse.

Afterward, for long tick-tocks, Smoke Alarm prowled the room like a cat, examining every option for escape, every item she'd been left with, every piece of furniture and fixture and fitting. To her scavenger's mind, each and every item had a use, as a tool, as a toy, as a weapon. She only had to find it and shape it. If only she had the knowhow of electricky and puters like Traveller, then she could use that too.

She could think of a few possible ways out. Most involved fighting the caretakers at the door, but they had the advantage on her: two-to-one and kitchen knives and guns, at least. She could make something to help, a trap, a distraction, an arrowgun even. But they all took time, and needed the caretakers to come back and open the door, and she had no idea when they would, whether in ticktocks or days. She'd asked for food, but would they come or leave them hungry? And, while she loitered here, those meanieheads were setting their mousetrap for Sereth.

She needed to be outgoing now.

'Okay, Taliro, I'm outgoing for the fire-escape.' Smoke Alarm pointed to the air vent in the wall, high against the ceiling. She took a chair and placed it on the table, butting it up against the wall under the vent. 'You can't come with, you won't even fit, but I'll track back for you, promise.' Climbing up table and chair, Smoke Alarm peered at the vent. It really was very small, but she could fit her head in. This prison was designed for tall, big-headed Draconians, not scrawny little Kangs. 'You keep outlook – listen at the door, tell me if guards are coming.' Then she got to work, using her tools with frantic effort to crack the paint and seal, before trying to prise the vent cover off and undo the screws.


OOC: Let me know if/when I need to roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:29, Sun 21 Feb 2016.

"I hope we'll be able to help." Stanley replies smiling, though his face soon turns serious again. "It looks like Alcadin has a slight advantage here: he knows the layout of this place and we don't know where he is or where he is going. We don't know if he has any accomplishes or if he is just a distraction. Depending on who the Second Factor talks to, Alcadin also knows that we are here."

"I know we just got here, but I see no reason to wait here. Alcadin is not here right now." Stanley looks at Amanda. "Maybe we should regroup with the others first. Smoke Alarm is a lot better at evading guards and finding places."

"The clearances will take a bit.  Need to run down a couple of my troops as I think I can trust...."

Perhaps fifteen minutes pass as Shenzaro makes several comm calls.  Finally he looks up at Trav and Sereth.  "There," he says.  "Override codes for those people have been locked out.  I have also got assets moving to put them under direct surveillance.  It might take a little time for the agents to catch up to them, but when they do, they'll have orders to prevent any blatant mischief, but just watch and report other actions and contacts.  We want to throw a wide net here.  Tried to be careful about who I tasked with this.  Most of them, I've known since they were in the shell."

From his rack of mementos, Shenzaro buckles on a heavy baldric with a badge, a sword and a blaster.

"Right.  Let's go collect your friends, and you can tell me more about this on the way...."

Ensazin pulls Stanley and Amanda off to an adjoining area off the main security center, out of likely earshot of those working there.  "So, if you think there is some scheme to discredit Legate Sereth afoot, do you think they might be trying to plant evidence against him?  He was assigned guest quarters at the Red Pavilion, on the grounds east of here."

OOC: If Stanley, Sereth & Trav want to regroup, we can just make that happen without any problematic timing issues.

Otherwise this is about the most plausible idea that Ensazin can think of with what he knows. Feel free to suggest something else, though if it is particularly far outside the box you might want to make a Presence + Convince.

Taliro looks momentarily alarmed when Smoke Alarm proposes leaving, but he schools his expression quickly.  "I understand.  I shall do what I can to keep up the pretense that you're still, for as long as possible."

With a little bit of effort, Smoke Alarm manages to pop the vent cover.  The tricky part, she suspects, is going to be navigating to a more useful point in an unfamiliar Tower.

OOC:

Give me an idea of where you are trying to get to and make an Ingenuity + Awareness + Sense of Direction.  We can determine your success based on the result and how ambitious you were trying to be.

You'll also want to do a Coordination + Athletics for physically getting through the vent.  The challenge level feels like it could either be Hard (18) or Difficult (21); you can have the easier number if you are willing to accept being louder about it, perhaps cutting down the detection time or your chances of being able to sneak wherever you come out.

In reply to The Guardian (msg # 229):

A nod, and then a smile, before turning to Traveller.

"Let's collect Doctor Newton, and Amanda. We'll need to collect Smoke later - she is likely been captured."

OOC: I'd rather get as much of the team back together in one place as possible.

Having prised off the vent cover, Smoke gently placed it on the table. 'Put this back when I'm through and clean up the dust and everything.' she told Taliro as she pondered the duck inside. It really was a very tight squeeze, but not impossible, not for a very determined Kang. She thought of cats: they sit where they fit, and could get in and out anywhere the same way. Now, Puddy could definitely go through, but Puddy wasn't exactly mobile. She needed to do this herself, and make herself smaller. Her shoulders were wider than her head. Briefly, Smoke wondered if cutting her arm off with a plastic knife would help, but she didn't think it would pop back on like a doll's. Plus, it would probably hurt a bit. Instead, she could try popping her arm loose again. She could only crawl one-handed anyhow.

The sharp bits of metal and the screws were a nasty problem. And, despite what the viddies showed, crawling through a duck was neither easy nor quiet. Smoke needed to make it slippery.

With an odd look at Taliro, Smoke started undressing. People always got upset when she took her clothes off, for some reason, but she figured scaly lizard people wouldn't care so much. Taliro merely seemed embarrassed. She left only her running shoes, dog-fang necklace, and underpants on, and added a spool of duck tape worn as a bracelet around one wrist, tied her tools tight around her right forearm, and tied a strip of blue cloth around her shin, because she was and always would be a Blue Kang.

Then she stuffed her clothes, bag, towel and everything she didn't need in the bed, making a sleeping dolly version of herself under the blanket, topped with Puddy under the UNS Loyal cap. 'Show-and-tell the guards I'm sleeping. If they try to outlook, tell them I'll wake up cranky.'

Now came the hard part. Smoke retrieved her Dalek toilet plunger, shoplifted from the Dalek on Silurian Earth. It was really good at sticking to things, she'd found. It really sucked. Smoke could use that. Attaching the plunger high up the wall, with a wad of cloth in her mouth, Smoke hung herself off it by her left hand, and twisted herself around, and around, and around, then ordered Taliro to yank down on her feet.

Well, that hurt. After the near-naked Kang climbed off Taliro, she tested her now dislocated arm hanging below her shoulder. It was much narrower now, though sore, weak, and floppy. But Smoke Alarm had known nothing but pain in one form or another for long as she could remember. How many times had she fallen and busted something, how many times had she gone hungry or cold? How many friends had she lost? Pain was an old companion, something she could use and rise above.

Shuddering, Smoke went into the bathroom, finding the squeezy-bottle of soap. It was slippery, moisturising, and blue. A good sign. As much as could, she lathered it all over her body, neck to ankles, front and back, until she was thoroughly slippery, faintly blue, and smelling of Draconian yavender.

Washing and drying her hands, Smoke returned, tossed what the soap bottle and its remaining contents into the vent in case she needed a top up, then stuck the Dalek toilet plunger into the vent. Smoke Alarm climbed up the table and chair, until she was almost in the vent, grabbing hold of the plunger. 'Now gimme a push!' she asked Taliro.

With Taliro pushing her shoes, Smoke pulling on the plunger, she slid into the narrow vent, wigging her scrawny and mangled body to an angle that fitted, eeling and writhing deeper in.  She had one good right arm forward, one not-so-good left arm dangling down her back. With the soap on her tummy, she found she slid easily over the sharp metal ridges, with not too many cuts or blood. Of course, with no friction, she couldn't push herself, but she could hardly move anyhow. Instead, she pulled herself up to the plunger, released it, then stuck it further down, and pulled again. And again.

'I'm in.' she grunted back to Taliro, barely able to breath. 'I'm okay.' He knew what to do now.

Smoke Alarm pulled herself up to the plunger, released it, then reached it further down, as far as she could. She stuck it again, then pulled, getting a good rhythm going. With every movement, the side of the vent cut her leg, but she put the pain out of her mind, focusing on her goal. On she went. She kept the soap bottle tucked under her chin, squeezing a little more in her path as she needed it, hoping it would last. Suck, pull, release, pop. Suck, pull, release, pop. That became Smoke Alarm's entire world. She was going to escape, she was going to rescue Taliro, she was going to warn Sereth. She wasn't going to be the peanut butter in a mousetrap for her friend.

There weren't many people who would, or could, crawl one-handed and naked through a crushing vent with a dislocated arm to save a friend. Fortunately, Sereth had one in Smoke Alarm.


OOC: Taking the harder Difficulty, buying a SP for an injury and using that: 27, a straight up Good result.
11:06, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 27 using 4d6+13 with rolls of 5,4,2,3. coordination(5) + athletics(4) + Kang Fu(2) + lube(2) + SP.

I'll tackle the next roll next time.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Sun 21 Feb 2016.

Trav smiles. So, this is the guy who helped make Sereth. "It will be a little shocking at first, sir, but I am certain you can handle it. Please understand, for legality sake, you will be walking in sovereign United States territory, as welcome ally and guest."

She inserts her key into the TARDIS door, and opens it, showing them both in.

"That is one possibility." Stanley replies. "Or they are trying to engineer a situation in which Sereth will have to do something stupid. They have lots of options."

OOC: Let's regroup.

Shenzaro glances at Sereth, then back to Trav.  "Just as I expect you understand: where there stands one true son of Draconia, there stands Draconia."

"Of which Sereth constantly reminds me," smirks Trav. She finds Amanda and Stan on the scanner. "Ok. I'm pulling just them in, and I'm going to leave their captors outside - get ready."

OOC: Trav will attempt to do a Sally Sparrow manuever - she will bring the TARDIS in and materialize it around Stan and Amanda, bringing them inside, while leaving the bad guys outside. Ingenuity+Transport?

A grim smile.

"I do not believe Amanda and Stanley are captives. Just Smoke Alarm."

Trav stops. "Then I'll just bring us in."

Pop, reach, suck, pull, drag, release. Pop, reach, suck, pull, drag, release. Smoke Alarm had knowhow of nothing else. Just those moves, just those sounds, over and over and over. She couldn't even her eyespy her nose in the lights-off darkness now. The metal had been cold on her skin, at first, but her skin was just as cold now, and clammy and slippery with soap, so she could hardly feel the screws and seams that dug into her she dragged herself over them. The pain of scratches, of her dislocated shoulder, a crushed chest, the aching repetition of her arm as she reached and dragged, reached and dragged, had all diffused into a dull, numb soreness all over. Denied sight and feeling, her other senses had spiked. She could hear, with sounds that went through her to her bones and tummy, the pop and suck of her plunger, the dragging of her body, her panting half-breaths timed with every movement. She could hear the faint whisper of the air-conditioning, the hum of the power, the throb of fans like a heartbeat, like the tower was alive and she buried deep inside. Mayhaps she was like a little worm wiggling and crawling through a hole. Mayhaps she was like a baby, trying to be born.

In the dark and quiet of the duck, with no tick-tocks or people, Smoke Alarm felt so very far from everything. Far from Taliro, far from Sereth, far from the meanieheads. It was just her, in the duck, in the tower, just one task to do. Her whole world had shrunk to one dimension, a line, in which she could only go forwards. It made it all easy-peasy to keep outgoing. She might have crawled for miles, but it might only have been footsteps.

But she needed to find an exit, this crawling was making her a slowpoke. Smoke Alarm skipped three turn-offs, sure they would lead into the similar doors she'd passed coming here, sure they were prison cells like the one she had escaped. Mayhaps they weren't locked, but she couldn't take the chance; she might not ever get out again. At the next junction, she laid her good arm, glad to stretch it and release the tension, even if it burned. She didn't knowhow many ticktocks she laid there. But she got moving again, carefully contorting, twisting herself around the corner, turning right. One wrong move, and she might never move again.

She needed to find the exit, in the darkness, in the twisty windy maze of ducks. Toward the bit-less-black blackness, where light might be coming from. Away from the cool air that was outcoming from the air-conditioning system, where spinning-blade fans were. She kept an imaginary turning compass, always pointing back to the doors and carrydoors she knew. She'd made a map in her mind, all through the tour and being brought up here. She filled in the blanks with her hard-won artchitectural knowhow. She would take the next one left.

Left... didn't come. She crawled on, but left wasn't there. Smoke Alarm shook with claustrophobic terror, tears stinging her eyes. Would she never find her way out? Would she be stuck forever, lost and forgotten until she was unalive? She had nothing to do, but drag herself on, and on, and on. Pop, reach, suck, pull, drag, release. Pop, reach, suck, pull, drag, release.

Finally, she found a left, light gleaming on the metal sides of the duck, and went for it.


OOC: Smoke Alarm will try to take her earliest escape into a room that seems empty and isn't another prison cell.
15:07, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 22 using 2d6+11 with rolls of 5,6. Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Sense of Direction(2) + Keen Senses(2).

As Stanley and Amanda confer with Ensazin about what their next move should be, Stanley feels a prickle on the back of his neck... that turns into a waft of air, and then a little breeze that presages the start of a well-known wheezing, groaning noise.

As the blue box with the flashing light starts to appear, the reaction from those in the security center is astonishing.  Almost as one, guards and techs and watch-standards smoothly roll out of their chairs, or duck down behind consoles or in back of standing cabinets, while they pull out sidearms and aim at the object appearing in their midst.

The light that Smoke Alarm sees glinting is red, which is normally a bad thing in her experience, but it is fairly faint and dim and, after she stops to ear-spy for a little while, she realizes that the space beyond the vent is mostly dark and very quiet.  She doesn't hear any voices or footsteps or anything like that.

She manages to situate herself so her good arm can reach the catches on the inside of the vent and jimmy them a bit, prising them loose until she can pop the vent free.

What she can see is the dim reflected glow of an exit sign, shining over an assortment of big metal shelves piled with boxes and cartons and bottles and buckets.  The room is only about half the size of the room where she left Taliro, though it's bigger than the bathroom.  Around the corner of the shelves she can see what looks like a mop-handle.  On one of the bottles near her, she can read one of the Traveller's long sciencey gobbledeygook words, over the words CONCENTRATED and CLEANER.

Trav pokes her head out of the door. "You two are alright! Give me a hug." She seems honestly relieved as she glomps her two companions tight, running out to greet them. "I was worried, but Sereth said his best man was watching over you two."

OOC:I'll be happy to take an SP for impulsive if you feel it's warranted.

For a few ticktocks, Smoke's head hung upside-down out of the duck, outlooking around, her long blue hair spilling like a waterfall. Cleaner's closet! Back in Paradise Towers, cleaner's closets had been much larger and more dangerous, usually having Cleaners in them. Since then, however, she'd lost-and-found they had all sorts of interesting things, things she could use.

Working her good right arm through past her neck and head, Smoke stuck the Dalek plunger to the ceiling, testing until she was sure it was shape-ship and sound. Then, holding it tight, she wormed and eeled and snaked and mimicked other animals to get herself out of the duck again. Smoke Alarm poured and then tumbled out of the vent, hanging one-handed from the plunger. Finally, she popped it and dropped lightly onto her toes, falling into a crouch before springing back up.

Owie! She had hurts all over, cut and bruised and aching, and especially the arm she'd popped to fit through the duck. Moving carefully, she found a sponge to put in her mouth, then propped her arm up against the wall, then jerked her body toward. Her grunts and whines muffled by the sponge, her pain hidden in the dark. But after a good tries, she felt to shift back into place with a well-felt pop. Smoke slumped, gasping from the pain, but it was a relief overall. Gingerly, experimentally, she tested her arm, rolling it around – it worked, but was still very sore. And she was so tired. But she didn't have time to loiter, to rest. She had to save Taliro and Sereth.

Hunting around, Smoke Alarm found a few fresh bottle of moisturising soap (the last had been lost in the vents, emptied), skipping the orange and pink ones, and went for blue. The last coating had dried, leaving her all sticky, but Smoke Alarm didn't intent to be a grabbed by a clawed musclebrain again, or at least nor for long. She squirted on another layer, or rather lather, hooked another bottle in her underpants, then went for the door.

Smoke Alarm earspied intently at the door to have a clear coast, then slowly, carefully, turned the door handle...


OOC: Keeping outlook for guards, and making her way back to the cell to free Taliro.
14:42, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 16 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 6,1.  awareness(4) + ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

Well, he wasn't going to go charging out like Traveller.

He simply spoke, through the now open doors.

"Lower your weapons. Unless you wish to fire upon the companion of a Legate."

He then stepped out, in all his glory, with his robes of office still firmly about him; including that blade of his. Once the weapons were lowered, (if they were), he spoke again.

"Keeper Shenzaro, if you would please join us. We need to act fast."

"Yes, we do. We have to find Smoke Alarm!"

Immediately, the Ipad comes out. There were only two Homo Sapiens on all of Draconia, and one of them was in the room with her. Come on, Sweet Boy, you can find the other one.

OOC: Ingenuity+Science+Research Capsule to find Smoke Alarm?

"Smoke Alarm? Why?" Stanley notices the urgency in Sereth's and Trav's voices and realises that something has happened.

As Smoke Alarm peers out into the corridor, she hears two Draconians approaching.  She ducks out of sight before they notice her.  The pair are arguing among themselves.

"I do not understand why we are suddenly needing to patrol the Ministry sector," one is saying.

"The Third Factor was quite clear. There is a threat to the Empire afoot.  Possibly even to the August One, himself.  A plot by subversives close to the throne, aided and abetted by alien provocateurs.  You've seen the alerts.  Unauthorized transmats within the Palace grounds!"

The pair don't seem like they're taking a huge amount of care in their patrolling and searching, though they are pausing to at least open up every door and give a cursory check inside.

OOC:

The Guardian, for the NPC Ministry Draconians, rolled 16 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 4,6.  Is Smoke Alarm missed yet? Awareness(3) + Ingenuity(3).  This is "Yes, But" for Smoke, so it just reflects a heightened state of security.

There's a bit of alarm and confusion before the guardsmen stop aiming directly at the TARDIS... though they do not exactly holster their weapons, it does seem that they engage the safeties.

When Shenzaro steps out, this provokes a whole new round of consternation.  The officer Nenkarris clears his throat, prompting silence, and says clearly enough that everyone can hear: "Keeper Shenzaro, this is most unexpected.  Particularly as the Second Factor has but recently visited to assess the situation."

"The Second Factor has been implicated in a plot of the darkest nature. He was not meant to be here. He was meant to be across the city. Usually though, this might pass without comment, given his importance. However, with other events having come to light, all unusual absences are being investigated."

He then looked thoughtful.

"Now then. What did the good Second Factor want here?"

This message was deleted by the player at 04:08, Thu 25 Feb 2016.

Smoke ducked back inside the cleaner's closet, earspying intently as the guards footed past. She didn't have knowhow of what a provocateur was, but she could certainly provoke, and she definitely provoked high meanister. They were outlooking for her! She couldn't trust any Draconian right now, 'cept Sereth and Taliro.

As they passed, Smoke cracked the door open again and kept outlook, eyespying them foot down the carrydoor and outlook inside every room. What would they do when they got to the cell and found Taliro?

"Shortly after you left one of the guardsmen, Alcadin, sneaked out of the room. Suspicious, especially because he left his communication device behind." Stanley briefly explains. "We moved here and informed The Second Factor. He didn't really seem concerned about a guardsman going rogue, at least not as much as he should be. How we met and what you were doing at the time was more interesting to him."

Smoke Alarm pads after the two Draconian caretakers, alert for the possibility of more appearing unlooked-for.  They cross an intersecting hallway, and she can hear some activity off to the right.  But the way that they're still headed, if she remembers correctly, is opposite the direction that she'd crawled through the duck.

She's not sure, but she thinks it's possible that the left way might head back toward the alleviator.

Shenzaro glances at Sereth.  "Some bad blood between you and," he glances around at the audience, "Rilsessan's patrons?  Or do you think you're just a target of opportunity?"

Meanwhile, Nenkarris -- apparently having gotten the very public statement for the satisfaction of his troops -- approaches the pair.  "My lords, Mr. Newton spares our shame by his silence.  But I must confess that Rilsessan meant to use the Guard as his pawns, to keep the Legate's associates as prisoners-in-fact.  I had taken it upon my head to thwart this plan -- but now you are here, and may command us better.  What is your will?"

Keeping outlook for caretakers, Smoke Alarm oriented herself within the carrydoors, rememorising the layout of the place. She'd gotten turned about in the cleaner's closet, but she was able to track back to the cell now. She could outlook and map this place, but she couldn't loiter all day.

Ducking back into the closet, Smoke grabbed the mop, then stepped out again, closing the door carefully behind her. Scampering quietly on her ends of her shoes, she footed down the carrydoor, counting the doors until she reached the number of vents she'd passed. She soon eyespied the door to her cell, and halted, outlooking warily around before dealing with the door. Reaching out, very carefully, she tried to work the control...

In reply to The Guardian (msg # 255):

He glances back to Shenzaro. "I suspect they are worried about what I might do should I start to move." He then glanced towards Stanley and Amanda.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

As Nenkarris approached, Sereth lowered his voice.

"What I said barely covers it. Some of the people involved in this, there can really be only one aim. If any of your people, are not in their assigned posts, or try to scamper off? Be very suspicious." He then turned to Shenzaro. "At this point, you know as much as I do. I intend to go poke an Ogron; whilst rescuing my confederate. Keep those others under observation. I wish to try to seize as many of them as we can, all at once when I make my move. Tell Nenkarris; but I would avoid telling anyone else. The fewer that know until we can act, the better."

His smile at Stanley and Amanda was grim now.

"I will tell you - or better yet, show you - on the way."

OOC: Trying to minimise NPCs for you to keep track of! It makes a certain amount of sense for Sereth to send Trav off to rescue Smoke, whilst he noses about with Shenzaro; but that's rather an unwieldy amount of NPCs.

OOC: Let me know when it's good to make a roll to find smoke and/or her phone, boss.

The TARDIS' scanners are maintaining a general lock on Smoke Alarm for Trav.  There are a lot of life forms within the Palace -- well into the thousands -- but a relative handful of these are Terra-descended humans.  There are more than just Stanley and Smoke Alarm, and some few of those are within the coordinates defining the Ministry of State's desmenes -- where better for dignitaries and diplomats? -- but one is in relative close proximity to the locator signal transmitted by Smoke Alarm's talkiphone.

Shenzaro nods.  He repeats the granddad's fumble with his comm device, and shortly a priority channel code transfers itself to Sereth's comm.

"Palace coups weren't ever my specialty," he says in a low voice, "but I mean to start marshaling such troops as I can trust.  A lot of my people are spooks and data jockeys these days.  But I've got a fair idea of who got into my Ministry on their merits and who got in from their family or their favors.  I'll keep things quiet till you give the word."

Trav immediately remotes into Smoke's phone, using the onboard camera to check the surroundings. "Hm, there are other humans besides you guys. I haven't found Smoke yet by biodata, but I have her phone. Taking control and turning it on now." A 3D holo of the surroundings, spring up from Trav's Ipad, are displayed. She makes sure that the phone on the other side stays quiet, turning Smoke's phone into a spy device.

"Data jockeys, you say? Hm. I'd appreciate your assistance, Sir, in tracking down Smoke Alarm. If any of your people have access to the planetary surveillance networks, their assistance in tracking down my companion would be invaluable." Unsaid is that having friendly Draconians help in the search for Smoke would be more diplomatically palatable than Trav sending Chibi to rampage through the Draconian data infrastructure.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:22, Fri 04 Mar 2016.

Smoke Alarm puzzles over the door control.  Besides the lock indicator light, there's a sort of computer touch pad showing an intricate varicolored display.  She sees that you can drag-and-drop and rotate pieces of the pattern on it, but it's none too clear to her how the pattern is supposed to be set up to work the door.

It reminds her a little of some of the yawny pictures Taliro was showing her earlier, like some sort of Dragonian jigsaw....

OOC: Did the guard enter the code the first time around? Did Smoke see it, or can she remember? I'm not sure what to roll.

OOC: He did operate it.  Call it Awareness + Subterfuge + Keen Senses (target 18) for Smoke to try to remember rememorize it.  It's that hard in part because the pattern is leaning on alien cultural keys which Smoke Alarm on her lonesome is not real sharp on.

Smoke chuckled; she'd played this game before, though it was a bit different and didn't have fruits to match up. She wished Taliro was here to explain it to her, but he was on the other side of this door. Anyhow, she'd eyespied the guard put the proper sequence in, peeking while she'd played at struggling out of the other's claws. Silly caretakers, thinking a Kang did not eyespy.

Fingers wiggling rapidly, Smoke tapped the code in and opened the door, whispering 'Taliro?'


OOC: Done, with a Story Point: 22
12:42, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 22 using 4d6+9 with rolls of 4,3,5,1.  awareness(4) + subterfuge(3) + Keen Senses(2) + SP.

A pause.

"Traveller. Let me look at that map. We know where Smoke was being taken. We have to assume they haven't changed it yet. There shouldn't be -that- many humans in the secondary administrative block."

Trav hands Sereth her Ipad.

There's a brief silence as Smoke Alarm waits at the door.  Then a surprised, hopeful, "Miss Alarm?  Is that you?"

'No, I'm Smoke Alarm, I keep telling you.' the one and only said as she opened the cell door and slipped inside. She kept a foot in the doorway though, 'waring that it might close and lock behind her and she'd have to fire-escape all over again. 'Grab my stuff and Puddy and comeout, all-speed!' she urged the tower guide, keeping outlook at the door for Draconians in the carrydoor.

"For what it is worth, I don't think I have seen any other humans when Amanda and I made our way to the operations centre." Stanley adds.

He took the ipad, and, after a brief consultation with Shenzaro if necessary (his knowledge was more recent!), he determined the administrative block, and pointed it out to Traveller.

"She should be there, or thereabouts."

"Allright! Lets go. Everyone, follow me."  She leads whoever wants to follow into the TARDIS.

Taliro already has Smoke's backpack in hand, and proffers it as he follows her cautiously out the door.

"We'd better be quick," he says.  "I imagine once they figure out we're gone, they'll after us in a hurry.  And I don't think they're going to give us a second chance to surrender."

Smoke took her backpack, quickly checked it for Puddy and all the rest, then shrugged it on. No time for clothes! 'Nope, we kicked up the cockroach nest, they'll be running all over everywhere. Let's go, all speed, keep outlook and 'ware caretakers.' she urged Taliro, hurrying down the carrydoor and tracking back toward the alleviator and palace proper, where all the fancypants light fittings were. 'Where should we go?' she asked Taliro as she footed it. Apart from escaping and running, Smoke realised she had no idea what to do next, no plan, no place to go. Usually, she knew where the fire-escape was, where a hide-in or brainquarters was, where her friends were. Here, in the Draconian Palace tower, she had nothing: no hide-ins or brainquarters, no knowhow of the tower, no arrowgun, no idea where Sereth was, no Kangs or Traveller or Stanley, no one she could trust or rely on, but Taliro and Puddy and herself.

Taliro blinks rapidly, taken aback that the proactive Smoke Alarm is at a loss.

"They said they were taking us to the secondary administrative block... that would be for the Ministry of State, of course...." he says, thinking out loud.  "What we should really do is get to a comm; they would be expecting us to try to head back to your Legate.  But there's another way," he says.

Taliro makes a series of spatial gesticulations that indicate position and place of the things he's describing as he talks.  "If we can get up seven floors, then through a Ministry of Virtue checkpoint, we'd have a straight shot across a Ministry of Knowledge wing that is closed down for renovations, right to the prime sanctum of the Ministry of Ways.  That's my ministry.  And then, I hope, we'd be able to comm back to Legate Sereth and let him know we're clear, and that the plotters have no hostages any more."
This message was last updated by the GM at 03:57, Thu 10 Mar 2016.

As Taliro show-and-telled her where things were and how to get there, Smoke Alarm closely eyespied his handwavings and words, adding what he described to her own brain-map of the layout of the Palace. What she needed was a map and a you-are-here, but for that she had Taliro. 'Seven more floors? I thought we were already up to the roof, or the Great Pool in the Sky.' she exclaimed hopelessly, but pushed on anyhow. 'Okay, let's foot it. Here, have this.' Smoke pressed the mop she'd shoplifted from the cleaner's closet into Taliro's hand; perhaps he could defend himself with it.

She footed onwards again, whispering back to Taliro 'You knowhow where I can find an arrowgun? ...Like a sling that shoots arrows but sideways.' she asked.

She had one other idea, one other person she could appeal to, Sereth's own big boss-man. 'Do you knowhow where I can find the Emperor?'

As Taliro hurries after Smoke Alarm, casting an occasionally worried look at the mop in his hands, he answers, "Ah, arrowgun?  Do you mean like a crossbow?  There are all sorts of places where you might find some sort of weapon -- I think there even are some pre-industrial military exhibits, and of course, they're genuine preservations.  But that is far down on the ground level.  Most anywhere else, weapons are under the control of the Palace Guardsman.  Or security for the different Ministries.  Unfortunately."

Taliro's dismay only grows greater when Smoke Alarm mentions the Emperor.

"I don't think we'd be allowed to find the Emperor.  Even though the whole of the Palace is his, really, I know that his apartments and living space is up on the High Terrace.  There is supposed to be a whole garden up there, lit by the sun from without.  Of course, I've never been -- I'm not of a rank to even think about petitioning for an audience."

'Yeah, one of those.' Smoke Alarm confirming, noting where she might find a crossbow.

She was surprised to hear Taliro talk of the Emperor. Getting into the alleviator, she replied 'That's silly: he's your big boss, isn't he? You should go be talky with him, show-and-tell him what's going on, eyespy that he knows what to do and is doing it. Who else can we trust to show-and-tell about the high meanister and the hair tributary? You palace-people not talking to each other just helps them keep secrets and tell fibs.' Well, that was the whole Draconian political system dismantled by a Kang.

"Well, there are 93 billion people in the Empire.  If the Emperor talked to them all, he'd never get any sleep."

The pair get into the elevator.  It has another pattern-y game to make it go up or down, but Taliro works the control, and the door closes.  Smoke Alarm finds it strangely soothing as the elevator accelerates upwards: footing away from Caretakers in an alleviator, just like old times.

But the floor indicator has only gone up by four when it comes to a stop and there's a bong, bong sound.  A voice begins speaking.  "Security overrides are now in effect.  Please remain calm and await the arrival of local security officers.  You will be questioned and processed in a courteous and efficient manner."

'Mousetrapped! We shoulda taken the stairs!' Suddenly alarmed, Smoke attacked the control panel, jabbing it repeatedly to try to find the door-open button, before inputting a whole series of random commands that would later send the alleviator careening up and down the tower. But for now – all locked!

'We outgoing to have to climb.' Smoke jumped up, punching the ceiling to find an access panel out of the alleviator, before she would work her way down. She'd escaped one cell, she would escape another.


OOC: Looking for an access panel, for the old elevator escape trick.

"Climb!" says Taliro apprehensively.  Then: "Wait, I know this one.  To earn a position in the Ministries you have years and years of studying for your examinations, and you have to recite letter-perfect all sorts of important information.  History, law, complete works of philosophy and literature.  Safety regulations."

He points out a pair of tiny slots where the metal walls meet the ceiling.  "You'll need some sort of stiff metal tools, one in both, to trip the catches.  Then the panel comes away and the emergency hatch is inside."

OOC: Normal roll; Ingenuity + Subterfuge.

'Ugh, school!' Smoke complained as Taliro began, then watched amazed as he show-and-telled her the hatch and had the knowhow to get in. 'You learned that at school? Icehot, Taliro!' she cheered, clapping him on the arm. She ought to take a tower-guide with her everywhere!

Smoke quickly slipped screwdriver and butter-knife from her wrist-band, and inserted them in both slots, expertly releasing both catches simultaneously. Smoke caught the panel as it came out. 'You go first, Safety Regs, then pull me up.' After all, Taliro was taller and bigger, and she doubted she could pull him up herself.

Meanwhile, Smoke stuck the Dalek toilet-plunger to the back of the panel so, when she'd climbed through, she could pull it back into place behind her, like no-one had ever been there at all. Smarts!


OOC: Ingenuity + Subterfuge: 18
13:48, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 13 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,5.  ingenuity(3) + subterfuge(3) + SP.
13:49, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 5 using 2d6 with rolls of 2,3.  that SP.
(I forgot to include the Story Point in the roll.)

After Taliro squeezes out atop the elevator car, he thoughtfully reaches down with the mop for Smoke Alarm to hold on to.  He struggles a bit to pull her up -- he is no Leg-it, just a junior bureaucrat -- but Smoke Alarm doesn't need quite so much help as all that, even though her throbbing shoulder is starting to really smart.

But they manage it, and Smoke Alarm manages to pull the cover up against the ceiling of the car where the two of them can set the catches and re-affix it.  That should confuse the meanister's caretakers when they catch up to the alleviator!

They look around.  It's very dark inside the elevator shaft, with only tiny dim emergency lights to mark out the shape of the walls and the location of the inevitable utility ladder.  Smoke Alarm can see slightly brighter red lights above them at regular intervals, going on until the upper reaches of the shaft fade out into black.

OOC: Roll was good enough that you've made good your escape, at least until you move into one of the other areas that Taliro described.

'Eyespy, the mop was useful.' Smoke told Taliro as she half-climbed and was half-pulled up atop the alleviator.

After setting the cover, she outlooked up the shaft, following the red lights up. 'Okay, now we climb high for happyness before they make the alleviator go. Only three floors.' Smoke Alarm jumped onto the utility and swiftly climbing upward, scaling it like a rat. Her arm was all hurty with this, but she put it out of her mind, focused on her mission: get Taliro to his brainquarters, not be bait in the meanister's mousetrap, and save her friend Sereth.

'This checkpoint – can we go under it?' Smoke wondered as they approached the sixth floor up, the one under the one Taliro had first suggested.

VWORP
VWORP
VWORP

bing!

The TARDIS shudders and groans as it materializes.  Trav notices that the readings gave a little hiccup: the landing is most likely on target, but it encountered some unexpected last-minute turbulence.  Possibly a simple transmat screen was put in place, considering the security protocols that seem to be going up all around the Palace -- no real inconvenience to a TARDIS, of course.

"We could look...." Taliro says doubtfully, looking around at the dimly illuminated walls of the shaft.  "I'm sorry to say that this wasn't part of my studies.  Maintenance Engineering was not exactly on the recommended syllabus for the Ministry of Ways.  The closest I remember was a passage from the Teachings of Szzar'thent which spoke to the virtues of walking on the tops of floors."

OOC: Awareness + Subterfuge, most likely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:28, Wed 23 Mar 2016.

"Hm. Bumped into a transmat screen. Palace might be on lockdown."

Trav locks the TARDIS down and fixes it to this point in space. Then, she gets her jacket and gun belt. She looks to Sereth questioningly, and points to her pistols - this is Draconian territory, and because of the touchiness of the situation, Sereth might or might not want her to be armed, depending on the need for an extra pair of guns. "Sereth. What's the play?"

She takes a moment to flip a switch, and show on the monitors what's outside.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:16, Wed 23 Mar 2016.

The view on the TARDIS scanner screen is partially obstructed.  It shows a dimly lit room, and  much of the foreground is blocked off by a shelving unit stacked with cardboard cartons, large plastic jugs and various cleaning tools and supplies.

Pausing on the ladder, Smoke tried to picture that, and gave up. 'Pfft. Anywhere you put your foot can be a floor.' she decided with infinite wisdom. 'Anyhow, this checkpoint's probly got caretakers, and they might be in the high meanister's gang, or they'll want a ticket or something silly. I don't know if you can run through that. Can we go through the floor below and come up behind the checkpoint? Or is there another checkpoint on this floor also?' They'd stopped at the floor Smoke was labelling as six floors up from where Taliro had given her directions, the one below the one he'd suggested getting to.

"It sort of looks like a place where you keep a hostage." Stanley remarks. "But I don't see Smoke, are you sure she is here?"

"There are only so many humans on Draconia. This is what my readings say. Might be someone else, the TARDIS sensors aren't that precise for a specific person. And it's not like this isn't the first closet I've materialized in."

Trav heads to the door. "Sereth, unless you'd rather I not, I'm taking my pieces with me. Things seem to be getting dangerous. Stun only, of course."

He tapped his fingers.

"Hidden only. I'm going to have a hard enough time explaining what you're doing with me considering my plan of attack."

He looked at the others.

"Rescue Smoke. THat's the priority. Then... we confront her captors. Or I do. Treason is not something to be taken lightly."

Trav hides her pistols, one in the back of her belt and the other in her jacket.

She's the first out of the TARDIS, peeking back and forth.

"I suppose we can try.  There are more renovations going on in this area; I'm not too sure exactly how far they have progressed...."

Hanging off the ladder, Taliro shows Smoke Alarm how they can disengage the inner switches for the door, and the two of them manage to force open the doors.  They open onto a sort of open lobby with hallways going off to the sides, and ahead, where Smoke can see warning signs and yellow tape crisscrossing things.  "That way," he says.

Trav confirms that the TARDIS has wedged itself into a storage room.  When she listens at the door, she can hear footsteps -- probably a pair of people walking side by side.

Smoke Alarm started footing it in the direction Taliro show-and-telled, weaving around and ducking under the annoying yellow tape and outlooking at the warning signs. Those that show-and-telled of hazards she rememorised. Those that show-and-telled her she was unauthorised personal she ignored – she already knew that. On the way, she kept outlook for caretakers and guards, for cleaners and tetchnicians, and urged Taliro to do the same.

Motions for the others to follow her, and slips into a hiding place herself. She *does not* draw her weapon. It may be a guard patrol. She makes a shhhhh motion. She's surprised no one heard the TARDIS materialize in.

OOC: 22:52, Today: The Traveller rolled 9 using 2d6+5 with rolls of 1,3.  2d6+Coordination 4+Subterfuge 1 - Hide while people approaching walk past. Stealthy, this Traveller is not.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:53, Fri 25 Mar 2016.

As Trav tries to situate herself behind a stack of cartons with the words HAND SANITIZER stenciled on them, she accidentally jostles the stack.  While she is able to hurriedly stabilize them and keep them from toppling over, this was far from her most graceful of moments.

Everyone hears the footsteps stop.

Then the steel handle on the door turns, and the door opens.  White light from the corridor spills in around the tall silhouettes of a pair of Draconians, both of whom have blaster pistols drawn.

OOC:

18:24, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Draconian Searchers, rolled 12 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 4,2.  Searching for suspicious stuff: Awareness(3) + Ingenuity(3).

As Smoke Alarm moves ahead with Taliro (still clutching the mop) in tow, she sees that a lot of the warning signs are indicating that various equipment and safety features are disabled -- there are sections of wall with removed panels, exposing wiring and fuse boxes; there are electronic locks like the one from the place the two of them had been mousetrapped earlier, with OUT OF ORDER signs and manual clamps affixed over the corresponding doors.

Then Smoke hears voices coming from a cross passage cutting through the route they have been taking:

"You are certain we are authorized to be here?"

"The Factor was clear.  The prisoners are loose: it is vital they be reacquired before they can spread their story."

"A human and a lowly servant of Ways!  Who would credit anything they said?"

"Ours is not to question!  Implications for the security of the Emperor Himself.  What part of that did you not understand?"

A half-refurbished office-space, with exposed wiring, tools and equipment, partially installed devices and fixtures, panels removed to reveal the cavities behind, and secrets hidden everywhere – this was Smoke Alarm's kind of place! She even eyespied a smoke alarm, ready for installation. But there was no time to stop and play; they had to move with all speed.

Hearing voices, she 'wared Taliro to stop as she eavesdropped, back to the wall, ear to the corner. Definitely caretakers in the high meanister's gang! Quickly, she urged Taliro into a hide-in and followed, footing into a side-room and ducking behind the desks and filing cabinets.


OOC: Hide!
09:07, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 18 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 5,5. coordination(5) + subterfuge(3).

Smoke Alarm tucks herself adroitly into a hiding-space inside the darkened space.  She winces, though, as she hears Taliro fumbling to put himself out of sight and making all sorts of awful creaks and clatters.

"What was that?"

"Sh.  This way...."

Through the closing door, Smoke sees shifting shadows and hears the cautious approach of steps drawing closer, out in the hall.  The door closes without much noise, but it doesn't take much imagination for Smoke Alarm to conclude that those people are going to be showing up.  She's confident that she'll remain unseen, unless they do something like flip all the lights on somehow.  She doesn't have so much faith that they will somehow overlook Taliro....

OOC:
20:49, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Taliro, rolled 7 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 2,2.  Sneaking: Coordination (2) + Subterfuge(1).
20:47, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Draconian Searchers, rolled 12 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 3,3.  Looking for Smoke & Taliro: Awareness(3) + Ingenuity (3).