Kalath awakens before sunrise.

Except for the watch-standers who have made sure that no wandering predators have broken into the Stronghold overnight (or Hunters, which is to say much the same thing), she's the first of the fifty-odd survivors to awaken.

This may be for the best.  Kalath proves her worth to the Stronghold every day, because she's fast, and skilled, and sharp-eyed, and she does much more than her fair share when comes to venturing out into the wilderness of the City to bring back the game that, along with the vegetable gardens planted on the rooftops and the carefully maintained mushroom nurseries in Building Three, keep the Stronghold fed.  But this is very much a two-edged blade.

Everyone knows, has known since they were very small, what sorts of people the Call comes to.  Everyone knows, once a person hears the Call, that only those of the very strongest will can resist the temptations of the Call -- or else, to give in and surrender.  To transform.  In the end, to become a Hunter.

So the watch-standers -- today, it's Pel and her older brother Merric -- don't quite hide a little bit of relief as they let Kalath out through the gate and into the City.  And Kalath is perhaps a little bit relieved to be out in the City, in the crisp cold air and among the steep towers of the Old Time, all grown over with green and living things, where she doesn't have to put up with everyone being just slightly cautious and guarded, worrying over Kalath and if and when the Call may take her.

Kalath moves carefully through the silent avenues.  Trees and shrubs and grass and moss have long ago broken up most of the sidewalks and paving-stones into crumbled stone and gravel.  She is making for the area known as the Inner Wild, an expanse of more natural slopes and hills and a wide lake fenced in by the husks of ancient structures: the hunting is better (if riskier) in the Inner Wild as more creatures in the area.  Mind, for this reason it is more often frequented by the Hunters as well.  But there's always the chance of coming along a bird or wild fowl, or perhaps a spinewolf browsing among the old skyscrapers, before she reaches the Wild.

Suddenly, Kalath's senses prickle.  Off in the corner of her vision, she catches sight of a figure the like of which she has never seen before.  It seems to be the figure of a woman -- but the figure is all white, dressed in spotless draping robes that stand out stark against the browns and greens, unlike the clothing made from hides and furs and the occasional bit of old salvage, like Kalath and the other inhabitants of the Stronghold wear.  The figure is standing close to the corner of one of the old buildings, several intersections away from Kalath.  It seems to be looking in Kalath's direction, even though its features are indistinct: whether it is veiled, or covered by a featureless mask, is unclear from this distance.

Anything could be a threat. Anything, anyone. When her senses prickle, she snapped to alert. Almost like a cat; but that came with the territory. And her legs started to move; she almost sprinted over to where the woman in white was. She didn't speak, not yet, but she didn't attack either.

When Kalath starts moving, the white figure turns and starts to stride out of sight down the cross-road of the corner it's standing at.  It isn't moving quickly enough to make its escape or even to duck into one of the buildings, but it does go out of sight.

However, when Kalath clears the corner, the white figure is simply gone.  It doesn't seem possible; nevertheless, the figure is nowhere to be seen, and when Kalath checks her surroundings in case this was meant as some sort of ambush, she finds no trace.

Then movement catches her attention, from farther down the overrun street.  Kalath sees the form of a spine-wolf, with the telltale barbed bristles on its back.  It's some distance away, perhaps hunting for its own breakfast, and doesn't seem to have spotted Kalath -- the motion she noticed was the beast lifting its head to sniff the air.

She was still suspicious; but she couldn't afford to take the time to track it down. She didn't want to run afoul of Hunters before she got food; and she didn't want to have to go all out into the Wild.

But there! Food! Not the easiest perhaps; but might help more than simply a small animal or bird. Quick as a flash, she grabbed out her bow, and strung an arrow to the string; but she didn't fire; not yet. First, she needed to get closer. She moved closer, but ever so quietly. Hopefully the wind wouldn't carry her scent to it at this point, but the chance of that was why she had her arrow to the string already.

OOC: At work; so no books to check; but sneaking. Co-ordination + Sneaking.

08:33, Today: Kalath rolled 13 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 1,2.  Co-ordination + Sneaking.
Apparently, Sereth's dice-rolling has followed me.

Kalath sets eyes on the perfect spot where she can angle in behind the spine-wolf and get a clear shot, to take it down cleanly, she hopes.  But, careful as she is, she is only part way to her chosen blind when the overgrown rubble betrays her.  Her foot plants on a loose chunk of concrete that slides to the side with a scraping sound that cuts through the early morning silence.

THe spine-wolf looks up sharply.  It turns to look straight at Kalath.  Then it darts ahead, not at Kalath but across her field of view, toward the cover of an obscuring stand of overgrowth. Kalath knows that she and the wolf are more or less on equal footing -- and she would be a meal for it every bit as much as it would be a meal (well, more than one) for her.

OOC:

Essentially you were maneuvering to get an advantage, so the way I'll interpret that is that the creature has the chance to move and get to some cover.  It is going to try to close with Kalath; it starts out at a distance of 4.

This is certainly within her range with the bow.  Note that if you are going to move, you'll want to make a Coordination + Athletics roll, because the terrain is complicated.

18:25, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Spine-wolf, rolled 14 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 1,6.  Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(1) + Keen Senses(2).

She doesn't want to fire off at a running target. She moves firstly; to try to negate some of the cover; and then her bow is fired with a swift movement.

OOC:
09:52, Today: Kalath rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 2,5.  Co-ordination + Athletics.
09:55, Today: Kalath rolled 14 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 5,1.  Co-ordination + Marksman.

I think I forgot something. -2 for second action on the bow.

Trav looks out the door of the TARDIS.  Her initial reaction is along the lines that civilization appears to have been and gone, on Kestartes Delta.

The TARDIS is sitting in the middle of a city intersection, or it would be, if there was a functioning city around it.  Instead, in all directions there are are the corpses of city buildings, apartment complexes and office buildings.  Concrete, brick and glass now serve as the anchors for tall pillars of vines, creepers, trees and shrubs; in many cases one can barely tell what the buildings originally were.

Nature has taken back this city with a vengeance, it seems.

Trav steps out. "I smell a mystery." She takes a deep breath of the air, and checks her guns.

"Some kind of disaster made this civilization collapse. It seems like there was massive depopulation that happened all at once - maybe over the course of a few decades. Whatever it was, it wasn't warfare or a natural disaster like an earthquake or a storm. Whatever killed this city was of a personal nature, I bet."

This reminded her of some of the cities she herself destroyed, with weapons such as mimetic plague, that made people forget the basic functions of how to eat and support themselves, and that spread through eye contact.

When you were the villain, all the more reason to be the hero, she thinks to herself. "We're looking for archives. You guys coming? Smoke, this sounds a lot like the way you described Paradise Towers."

The spine-wolf plays a canny game as it ducks and weaves nimbly through the foliage, trying to close with Kalath.

Even though she can't quite manage to keep a clear bead on it, Kalath does manage to keep the beast at a distance as it tries to move in on her.  And her shot, when she takes it, is true even though it's far from a killing blow.  The spine-wolf snarls as the arrow lodges in the shoulder of one foreleg -- and far from fear, the sound sends a thrill of excitement through Kalath.

The spine-wolf continues to come on, more angered than seriously hurt by the arrow, although Kalath can tell that the injury is beginning to hamper it a little.

OOC:

The spine-wolf took 1 wound, per bow damage for basic success.  Its Strength is higher than its Coordination, so I would figure that you would like to try to cripple it in order to make it less dangerous, by preference.

20:03, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Spine-wolf, rolled 16 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 5,4.  Closing with Kalath: Coordination(4) + Athletics(3).
20:04, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Spine-wolf, rolled 12 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 4,1.  Coordination(4) + Awareness(3) -2 (second action) +2(cover).

As noted, my thinking is that you've never actually had an Cheetah-Out episode as yet, at least not an unambiguous one.  It's not absolutely necessary that this scene cause that, but it can if you want it to.

She soon realised that she couldn't keep the wolf at a distance. She could possibly just turn and run; she was fast, but then she'd be back to hunting for food, and this prey was already hurt.

She drew out another arrow, and fired it at the beast, moving just enough to try to keep it away; but more worried about hurting it.

OOC: I'll play it by ear. If it manages to close; that can be the trigger.

11:36, Today: Kalath rolled 18 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,6.  Co-ordination + Marksman.

Didn't roll for athletics; as it doesn't seem likely for her to be able to keep it at distance; and actually kill it at this point.

Kalath stops her retreat, instead backing to the top of a low mound to set herself to take her next shot.  The legends of the Stronghold said that these mounds had once been unnatural machines that raced along the canyons of the City like hunting beasts, before the time had blown dirt over them and grass had take root; now they were just like graves for the world gone by.  It was true enough that if you dug one up, you found a casket of metal inside, and sometimes they contained other treasures -- or the dead.

So the injured spine-wolf comes on, and Kalath keeps her nerve until she finds the right opening, and looses.  The arrow punches through the spine-wolf's chest and out its back at an ugly angle; it yelps and blood spills from it -- sweet, hot blood that Kalath can smell from her stand on the hill.  The spine-wolf plows to a halt at the base of the mound.  Now it is struggling to try to drag its body around and perhaps get away, but plainly not all of its limbs are doing what it wants them to.

OOC:

Ignore the attack roll I made, with its already degraded Coordination it doesn't quite get to you -- down to 1 area away.  That will finish wrecking its Coordination if you like.

21:31, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Spine-wolf, rolled 13 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,5.  Closing with Kalath: Coordination(3) + Athletics(3).
21:32, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Spine-wolf, rolled 12 using 2d6+4 with rolls of 5,3.  Dodging: Coordination(3) + Awareness(3) -2 (second action).
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:58, Mon 23 May 2016.

OOC: Finish degrading it's co-ordination. And then...

IC: She fought the urge to howl. She dropped her bow, and yanked out her spear, and leapt down towards the wolf; jabbing down at it as she went. -This- is what it was all about. The hunt, the kill.

OOC: Not sure rolls really required at this point but:
13:09, Today: Kalath rolled 13 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,5.  Co-ordination + Fighting -2 (second action) - Spearing wolf.
13:08, Today: Kalath rolled 19 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 6,5.  Athletics + Co-ordination: Closing with wolf.

OOC: It's sort of past the point of being able to defend itself, so that strike is going to be a Fantastic result, and with a +2 for the spear, over your strength, as well.

The spine-wolf tries to lift its head to snap at Kalath, but it's too feeble at this point to really intercept her.  Her spear plunges down into its back, skewering the beast's heart.  It thrashes once, its barbs scraping along Kalath's arms, and then shudders and goes still.

As Kalath stands panting over her kill, she hears first a single voice yowl and snarl from somewhere above her, and then a second, and then a whole chorus.  Hunters.  She looks up and around, and sees, in the empty windows of the green pillars around her or on their summits, Hunters crouching or clinging to the branches of climbing plants.  Normally, so many Hunters all around would strike fear into Kalath.  But she gets the sense that none of these is challenging her for her prey, nor, at the moment, preparing to spring down upon her as the prey in their own hunt.  She feels in a weird way their approval, and their welcome.

In this exultant moment, Kalath feels that she's more alive right now that she has ever been in her entire life.

Meanwhile, some distance away, Trav is scanning with the sonic to try to figure out if any of the inhabitants might still be around, and how she might go about locating the library.  She hears voices go up, animal cries in a great chorus that echoes around the fallen city.

Standing over her kill; she then lifts her own head, and cries out; as much of a howl as her vocal chords permitted.

However, despite the glory of that feeling, she did need to return to the city; with her kill. It wasn't just for her; and this would be good eating for a few of them.

"Oooh. Gotta check that out!"

Trav happily tromps off towards the source of the disturbance, while scanning the area with her sonic. She's checking radiation, biosphere, the works - like she did when she had glasses and a big butt. People like Roy Fokker and David Bowie would usually have to chase after her.

Score story points for Impulsive -and- Curious? :)

OOC: Okay, 1 shiny new story point.  Don't spend it all in one place. :)

The Traveller heads off through the ruined city.  The sonic is confirming the verdict of the TARDIS databank -- no nasty pathogens, no hazardous radiation -- and residual echolocation is helping her to narrow down the probable origin of the sound.

She comes to an intersection, and she sees her first real sign of life.  A young woman in clothing of fur and leather, with a bow and spear slung across her back, is working to prepare a carcass of some sort for transport, and rigging up a travois to haul it.  The body is sizable; the woman must be strong if she's going to move it a great distance by herself.

***

Kalath looks up sharply when she hears the newcomer's careless steps crunching through the ground cover.  She's surprised: she has never seen anyone who looked quite like that.  The blond woman's clothing is spotless, in bright solid colors.  Among the Stronghold's few treasures from the Old World are a handful of books that the elders use to teach young ones the letters and signs that still give some help in navigating around the city: this woman looks like she might have stepped straight out of the faded pictures in those books.

Perhaps she's one of the sorcerers.

She was in a tricky situation. She had to get the kill back to the others; so they had food. But it wasn't quite ready to transport yet; and she didn't want to take on a potential sorcerer.

She dropped to her haunches, not doing anything just yet. Maybe she hadn't seen her yet?

"Hi, I'm looking for a library. Could you direct me to the local library? I'm looking for a book." The woman smiles sunnily.

Library... meant nothing. Oh books. Well that was different. She was still wary; but she couldn't leave her alone. She'd be easy prey for predators.

"You'll need to speak to the elders. Give me a moment, and I'll escort you."

Kalath is vaguely aware that the Hunters have vanished.  Back into the hiding-places of the buildings, back out of sight on the rooftops?  It's not clear.

But the woman seems to have no notion whatsoever that there's anything to be cautious about.  Strange behavior, for a sorcerer.

Trav extends her hand like she hasn't a care in the world. "Thank you. Hi, I'm called the Traveller. What's your name?"

Trav looks around, as the sounds of nature surround them. She closes her eyes and breathes in deep. "This beautiful place smells like tragedy and sadness."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:27, Tue 24 May 2016.

Kalath just finished setting things up, and then prepared to haul the body back to the city.

<Yellow>"Kalath." She seemed quite short in response. "This place isn't beautiful. It's dangerous. Could be lethal for the likes of you."

</Yellow>Her feeling that this woman was a sorcerer was fading.

Trav nods. "Babe, you don't know. Danger is an old pal of mine. I'm new here, from far away. What dangers should I be aware of? I'd be grateful if you told me." Trav's gait spoke of someone who might not be from around her, but absolutely was familiar with danger.

"Tell me a little about you. Are you a huntress of some kind?"

She grimaced.

"Well, we could start with the obvious." Gesturing at the corpse of the spine-wolf.

"But that's not the real danger. Hunters. A lot of them about. We rarely go to these parts; as this is where they live." She then hissed. "I am -not- a Hunter."

Trav is not a dope. "I assume that what you mean by hunter is different than simply a normal person who hunts animals for food, yes? Is this some other form of animal? A tribe? Some kind of other danger?"

Trav motions to her pieces. "I'm not exactly helpless, myself. Of course, this is your home, I defer to your experience and knowledge."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Tue 24 May 2016.

She grunted, and was quiet, finished rigging up the transport, and started off.

"You're no sorcerer." She muttered. "Coming?"

"Nope. Tried to learn magic for 200 years, and nada. What qualifies as a Sorcerer round these parts, anyway?"

As Trav follows, she snerks a little. "The Sorceress. I could dress in all those clothes Stevie Nicks left aboard."

She motions for Kalath to wait. "I have a pair of companions who may be joining us. Can your transport take two more people? If not, we can use my ship."

Trav gets out her phone, and rings up Stanley. "Stan! I met a native and have a lead. It's dangerous around here though. I'm about to go meet some Elders. Are you and Smoke Alarm coming? There's some sort of dangerous fauna around here or something."

Back to Kalath: "What should my comrades watch out for?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:57, Tue 24 May 2016.

"I pull the body in that." Gesturing. "As for transport? We use feet." A shake of her head. "We will wait, if you insist. But they need to be wary of... of the Hunters." A pause. She could explain this, without going into details. "Humanoid cat-figures."

Trav puts her fingers together. "Humanoid cat figures. Are the sapient? Do they prey on people like us for food? To make us slaves? For sport?"

"Not people like you. People like us. All of us. If your friends are coming, they will need to be quick. We can't waste too much time with a fresh kill sitting there."

Now that she has said it aloud, Kalath is growing acutely aware that the two of them are standing in the open.  She's somewhat surprised that no Hunters have moved on them already: if they watched her take the spine-wolf, they'd know that she is capable of putting up a fight herself, but this strange woman (who seems remarkably oblivious to basic facts of life) seems like she would be easy meat for Hunters.

Mind, that simply means that if it came down to cases, Kalath could probably make her escape....

OOC: Kind of holding events here until Smoke Alarm and Stanley are outgoing, or until you make a definitive decision on moving.  Trav is aware that the direction that Kalath started to haul the carcass is vaguely away from the TARDIS.  OTOH, doubling back wouldn't be very Curious or Impulsive.... ;)

OOC: I want to give Stanley a chance to respond. I don't know his likely posting times as well as yours and Smoke's.

"Your friends, they be quick, yes? Or they stay where they are if it's safe, and we go?"

She is clearly on edge.

Trav gets back on her phone. "You guys coming? There's hostile fauna here. Come on, outgoing!"

She looks to Kalath. "Is there cover we can get to?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:46, Thu 26 May 2016.

Smoke Alarm pokes her nose out of the door of the TARDIS, arrowgun cocked and ready.

What she sees is remarkably disturbing for such a claustrophile: streets and Towers all choked with green.  It's not like being in the park on Draconia, where it was obvious that no dogs were permitted, nor even on the jungles of ancient Earth, where there were just perfectly ordinary trees and vines, after all, once you got past the terror chickens.  This is all familiar: even rows and built lines and tall geometric shapes.  But it's like it all has been devoured by the forest.

She is, nevertheless, a Hero of Draconia.  So maybe that will be enough.  Still, when she takes a few cautious steps forward, leaving the room for Stanley to exit the talkiphone box behind her, she could be forgiven for overlooking the shape on the distant streetcorner.  Stanley is the first to notice it.

It's motionless, all draped in white, an obviously female form.  At this distance, though, it's hard to make out any features.  What is clear, though, is that it has been watching the TARDIS.

Smoke Alarm liked a city like Arsuran, all shiny and fancy and grand. Smoke Alarm even liked a city like Paradise Towers, all run-down and broken, but at least lived-in. At least those cities were alive. This city was unalive, a rotting carcass of a city, like a long-dead dog, broken bones sticking out of the crumbling ruin, all shrouded in dirt and mould and green, All the familiar straight lines and right angles, which she found so sound-and-safe, were blurred by the wild green chaos of the forest. This city had died, the gardens had escaped and taken over. The animals footed freely.

Smoke Alarm felt cold and small inside, but remembered all the ways she was brave and bold, and checked her arrowgun again. 'This city's unalive.' she warned Stanley, 'Ware dogs and cats.'

"It looks pretty deserted." Stanley remarks. He cautiously steps out of the Tardis, glancing around for any sign of dangerous animals. Spotting the figure in white, Stanley momentarily freezes. He had expected to maybe see the shadow of some beast or a pair of eyes lurking from somewhere, but not a humanoid figure.

"Smoke, there is someone standing over there. In the distance." Stanley points in the direction of the figure. "Maybe that is the local Trav was talking about?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:36, Thu 26 May 2016.

Smoke eyespied her. 'Must be an outlook.' she decided. 'Mayhaps. She would've been loitering there when Traveller came out. Let's go say how-you-do. Lock the door, outlook both ways.' While Stanley did that, she footed toward the woman in white.

Before Smoke Alarm can make more than a few steps, the figure lifts an arm, pointing directly to Stanley.

She just groaned. Why did this person have to make things so hard? Why couldn't she just tell her friends to stay where it was safe; and they get to the city with her ... well associates dinner?

She just sighed, pulled the wolf along briefly, and made it to cover.

"This won't work for long. You... you stand out. You can't kill here. It's not safe to do so." Blithely ignoring the fact that she had clearly killed the wolf.

"It...it looks like she is pointing at me. Why?" Stanley wonders out loud. Remembering all the warnings about dangerous animals, he turns around. Maybe the stranger isn't pointing at him, but at something behind him.

When Stanley looks back, the figure's outstretched arm is still pointed to him. But then she lifts the other, and gestures.

Come here.

To Trav it looks like the building they've entered is what remains of a little convenience store.  She's guessing this by the rows of rusting shelves, emptied of everything but a few empty cardboard cartons in once-bright colors, the broken light fixtures, the counter with what looks like it was a bulky cash register.

There's a doorway in the back of the space with bare hinges and no door, but with four planks nailed across it, two of which were broken.  This place has gone from being an everyday domestic grocery, to a refuge in a ruined world, to an incipient ruin.

Smoke Alarm squinted at the white-clad rezzie; her long-distance vision had been limited growing up to the length of a tower carrydoor. 'Are you sure she'd pointing at you? Most people point at me.' the Blue Kang reflected. 'Well, she wants us to foot over. She must be the one Trav got talky to.' Smoke started footing it again.

Stanley double-checks that the Tardis door is locked and then follows Smoke.

As Smoke Alarm and Stanley get closer to the figure in white, more details become apparent, although it would be a stretch to say that they make the figure's nature any clearer to either of them.

Each of the two realize that the figure's indistinct features are not just an artifact of clothing or distance.  Her head is covered by a wimple, but is not, in fact, veiled.  Instead, they can see that she seems to be shrouded all over by a kind of haze: the hanging drapery of her clothing flickers and shifts so neither of them can easily tell where it starts and stops.  And her face is much the same.  It goes from round and jovial, to a severe beauty with cheekbones you could cut yourself on; from young, to ancient, to all points between; and the Traveller's companions find that as one detail escapes their attention, it comes back with subtle changes as they pick it out again through the mist.

The figure speaks -- and when she does, it is not with one voice, but with a layered harmony, individual voices rising and falling through the mix.  Worse, the two can hear the voice saying different things at once, some separate part filtering through to each one's apprehension.  They're aware that something else is being said, but each presently understands only what is being said to them.

To Smoke Alarm:

"You need to be outgoing to find the Traveller, all speed.  She needs you, she needs the help of everyone who remembers who she is.  But you can't make to-dos.  The Traveller can't make to-dos.  No ball-games, no flyposts, no wipeouts. Because this is a place that can take the Kang in a person and do worse than make them unalive, it can make them unKang, if they forget even a little to be following the Kang way."

"Be brave and bold.  But always ask yourself what the Leg-it would do.  And 'ware kitacats."


To Stanley:

"The Traveller is in great danger," she says.  "Less in danger of losing her life than in danger of not being the Traveller.  You are needed.  You know her true self.  You know this true self of hers better than anyone does.  And you are a man of courage but not one of violence.  You will face the temptations this world sets out better than any.  And yet.  You are a... Doctor."

There is a bit of a pause and a smile at that. "You have the insight to know when drastic steps must be taken, and you have the discipline to take them with dispassion.  You may need it.  Look after Smoke Alarm.  Look after yourself.  And look after the Traveller.  She needs you more than she ever has."

Smoke Alarm outlooked in wonder and horror at the weird, ever-changing stranger. That must be hurty, with her face shifting about all the time. She couldn't know what she was outlooking at. And talking with so many mouths had to be confusing.

But she felt no stranger-danger here; she felt almost like she rememorised this person, or she would. Mayhaps Traveller could show-and-tell and introduce them later. And her words were good Kang words, mostly, and they sounded like good advice. Actually, it was all just what she all-ways did. Yet the warning about this place made her cold to the bones. What could make her unKang? 'Okay, I knowhow. I follow the Kang way, all-ways. We'll lost-and-find Traveller. But who are you?' she demanded.

"Mayhap I'm no one," is the answer.  "Mayhap you already know, but you can't rememorize me till later."

Stanley is surprised that, despite the stranger saying multiple things at the same time and constantly shifting how she looks, he is able to clearly understand her. However, he doesn't like what he is hearing. The warning is a bit vague, but Trav is in danger from something more dangerous than wild animals, something that threatens who she is. The temptations of this planet? Does it have something to do with this abandoned city?

"Where is Trav?" he asks.

The figure lifts an arm, pointing behind and to her her right, without shifting her stance or altering her gaze.  "The Traveller is across the city.  In the company of a person who is in as much danger, and is such a danger herself.  Go to her.  Remember what has been said... and make certain you are ready."

She turns away from Smoke Alarm and Stanley and starts to walk away.  She is not walking quickly, but she seems to diminish quickly, as if moving swiftly into the distance.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:53, Sun 29 May 2016.

Trav and Kalath, in the ruined shop, suddenly hear a creaking and footsteps from somewhere above them in the building.

Trav immediately slips into her gunfighter stance. Out comes her piece, the VHRM-HREEMMMM. Her eyes dart side to side. She gets in a back to back stance with Kalath.

"Your lead. What do we do next?"

"Well..." Stanley briefly watches the stranger disappear, reflecting on her warning. "That was strange, I have no idea who that was... Let's quickly regroup with Trav."

He sets of in the direction the stranger had indicated.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:05, Sun 29 May 2016.

"Hide. IF we are found... I will deal with the intruder." There is absolutely no wavering in her conviction. She may have reacted badly to being called a hunter; but there was no doubt she was one.

Trav learned from a life on a ruined world to always trust the scout. She immediately looks for a defensible position that will offer both cover and concealment.

OOC: The Traveller rolled 16 using 4d6+5 with rolls of 1,3,5,2.  Trav scoots out to find cover and hide - 2d6+Perception 2+subterfuge 1+1 sp, down to 6.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:13, Sun 29 May 2016.

'Build high for happiness!' Smoke called out to the white rezzie, feeling like she ought to, anyhow. Smoke Alarm was mostly definitely confuzzled. She outlooked at the stranger outgoing, shrinking, fading away, too much like the Qplotl's rat-things to be normal. 'There's some weird people out there.' the Blue Kang commented to Stanley, turning away, now focused entirely on hunting for Traveller.

As she footed along, she kept close outlook for hazards; the Kang knew well the hide-ins there could be in a city, and the dangers that could be lurking in them. She also keep outlook for any sign or litter of Traveller, so she could track her down.

'Ware kitacats.' she warned Stanley. 'I dunno how a kitacat is different from a regular cat, but that's what that stranger said.' Smoke stopped and adjusted her packback, so Puddy's newly fixed head protruded above the zip, outlooking back. A second pair of eyespies, especially now he had a new one. Puddies would knowhow the cats lurked.


OOC: Tracking Traveller: 14
11:06, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 14 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 1,4. Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

Outlook for dangers: 16
11:06, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 16 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 3,4. Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

Once Traveller was hidden as well as she could be; Kalath herself looked for a place to hide; but also somewhere high. If they -were- spotted; she wanted the drop on their tracker.


OOC: 13:42, Today: Kalath rolled 16 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 6,2.  Awareness + Subterfuge + Keen Senses.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:43, Mon 30 May 2016.

"They are probably a lot bigger and meaner." Stanley replies, hoping that these creatures would be large but not too large. It would be a nightmare if the deadly predators here were as small as normal cats, but quicker. However, as he had experienced when he had gone on safari in Africa, even big cats aren't always easy to spot if they are in their natural habitat. He tries to keep a close eye on his surroundings, but he doesn't really know what he is looking for. In Africa there was a ranger to track and point out the lions, now he has Smoke Alarm.

OOC: Keeping an eye out for any big cats :).
18:52, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,3.  Keeping an eye out for danger.  Awareness(4)+Ingenuity(4). .

The overgrown streets aren't the most favorable environment for a Kang to be tracking a person in, as their talents have been honed in judging scuff-marks and smudges on concrete or tiling, or in understanding the length of time since a Cleaner has passed by the smell of their tread-track.

However, Smoke Alarm makes do: she finds the occasional feet-prints and broken plant-stem that indicate that someone Trav-sized and not being particularly careful about how they foot has passed. Starting in the direction indicated by the white apparition, she and Stanley proceed for several zigzagging blocks on the trail of the Traveller.

All the way, they keep their eyes open for danger.  Their efforts pay off.  Smoke Alarm catches a soft, perhaps involuntary hiss from an open and shadowed doorway.  At the same time, from the corner of his eye, Stanley spots motion: a form ducking down behind a low half-wall festooned with spilled fronds and wildflowers, perhaps an ornamental sidewalk planter at one time.  Their stalkers seem at once to realize that they've been seen, and come into clearer view.

Stanley's thoughts, inevitably, go back to Amanda Khabares and the other Khezhek-Americans that he met on Arden.  However, there are clear differences.  Amanda's people had more of the leonine or the pantherish look about them.  These catfolk have spotted pelts bringing to mind the cheetah; they're carrying long spears with rough-looking metal blades, and wearing brief outfits of fur and hide that look like they're meant more as harnesses for gear than protection from the elements.

As the pair come more clearly into the light, one glances across to the other and gives a brief warning snarl.  If the second took any message from that, it's not clear to Smoke or Stanley.  The one that "spoke" is slightly closer to them than the other.

OOC:

17:00, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 13 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 3,3.  Stalking Smoke and Stanley: Coordination(5) + Subterfuge(2).
17:00, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 11 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 1,3.  Stalking Smoke and Stanley: Coordination(5) + Subterfuge(2).

The nearer Cheetah Person is at a distance of 3 and the other is at a distance of 4.

Inside the shop, Kalath and Trav wait anxiously as the sounds of movement drift toward the back of the building, then stop, then sound as if they start to descend.  They lose track of it briefly -- then there is a sudden and sharp sniffing noise from behind the boarded passageway.

With the squeal of nails being pried free of wood, first one and then the other remaining bits of the barricade are levered free and a figure moves into the room.  Kalath recognizes at once the furred form of a Hunter, crouching with its spear at the ready.  But its attention seems fixed on the spine-wolf that Kalath left abandoned.  It moves forward, jabs experimentally at the carcass on its carrying-frame, studies the rig briefly.

Then it starts to turn.  Green eyes reflect weirdly around the shadowed space of the shop.

OOC:

17:26, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 12 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 1,2.  Finding Kalath and Trav: Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

Her kill! Hers! That would do quite a few members back home a meal. Sniffing. This... Traveller... was undoubtedly giving off the scent of fear to a Hunter. And there is no doubt that they'd know that her contraption was man-made as well.

She silently strung an arrow to her bow; then stood up; the bow levelled at the Hunter.

"There is easier prey, Hunter."

The Traveller was actually not scared at all - From her hiding place, she sits and waits. Instead, she keeps cued on Kalath. She remembers when she and her brother Bobby were hunted by Xiticix in the ruins of old detroit. She was however putting her trust in this new woman she had just met. Crouching, she doesn't make a sound, and makes sure to glance around. If these creatures worked in pairs, they could be setting up a flank.

The Hunter's attention is fixed firmly on Kalath, its grip firm on its spear.  Its whiskers twitch as it considers the space within the shop, the distance to Kalath.

"Therre is much meat herre for one," it responds, "therre is much for two.  Will you take a parrt and go?  Orr will you fight forr it, claw to claw?"

OOC:

This would be a Presence + Convince against the Cheetah Person.  Kalath would get a +2 on it, for having a superior tactical position.

"It is for my tribe not just me. If I let you take part, I must hunt for another."

OOC:
Oh lordy. The fact that I almost rolled as well as Sereth did on Convince + Presence is just scary.
10:45, Today: Kalath rolled 13 using 2d6+4 with rolls of 5,4.  Presence + Convince + 2.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:47, Tue 31 May 2016.

Trav smirks slightly. It was kind of flattering to be fought over as part of a meal.

OOC: can I throw Kalath an SP? Also, Sereth is obviously watching over us.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:51, Tue 31 May 2016.

The Hunter shifts, its muscles bunching slightly, but apparently it does not like what it sees in Kalath's steady aim and her unwavering regard.

"Ffah!" it spits.  "The meat grrows cold and stale in any case; I will leave the carrion to you."

It shoots a glance behind, out the doorway, and begins to back out.  "May be, we will hunt again," it says as it leaves.  "May be, both to hunt the same prey.  May be, one as hunt and one as hunterr."

It lets the door of the shop fall shut behind it, and with the soft bang of impact it sprints away into the morning.

OOC: "I totally didn't want those grapes in the first place."

20:19, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 7 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 2,2.  Vs. Kalath's intimidation: Resolve(3) + Convince(0).

OOC: BTW, you can have a Story Point for Selfish.

She waited till the Hunter was gone, then scrambled quickly to the carcass.

"We cannot stay here. We return to the city; my tribe needs the meat. Then, we go find your friends. IT is too dangerous to just -stay- here; with the meat."

She clearly intends to leave now. With Traveller; or without her.

Smoke Alarm was sniffing a littered fizz-ade can – too old to be Trav's, and she mayhaps hadn't drunk one between the talkiphone box and here – when she heard the pussycat-like hiss from the hairdresser's. Did kitacats get haircuts? Mayhaps she could ask later. She rose warily, eyespying the cat-people foot out of their hide-ins. Smoke didn't doubt more might be lurking in hide-ins though.

'Ware kitacats, the stranger had said, but that didn't mean keep-away or be unfriendly. Smoke Alarm saw cat-people like Amanda or Puddy, wearing raggy fabshion and carrying recycled weapons like Kangs. And the stranger had also said: what the Leg-it would do? Get talky, that's what.

She waved. 'Hello! How-you-do?' Then she advanced on the snarly one, performing the how-do-you, outlooking as brave and bold as a Kang could be. It was a show of strength, of defensiveness, but also a willingness to have no to-dos and make friends, and it communicated this without any words. Really, it could be a universal greeting.


OOC: How-you-do, make friends, no to-dos: 17.
10:13, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 17 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,5. presence(2) + resolve(3) + Brave(2).

The cheetah-like cat-people both give a start when confronted with the Kang how-you-do, and they each respond in disconcerting fashion -- with an earnest yowl that goes ringing around the buildings.

They also start coming closer, to both Smoke and Stanley, even as Smoke moves towards on of them.  Here their reactions seem to differ.  The nearer one, the one Smoke approached, comes forward in a guarded stance -- its spear is held up, crossways across its body, in two hands; its ears keep flicking as it closes, and its eyes dart back and forth to Smoke Alarm, to Stanley, and the other cheetah person.

The other seems less wary.  Its weapon is held lower, in a less defensive manner, and it moves forward with less hesitation, though it is still moving carefully, and not in a particularly aggressive manner.  Smoke and Stanley can hear it make a rumbling noise in its throat and chest.

Then the first cheetah person gives a little snarl, looking at the second.  "Mine," it says, in a throaty but perfectly distinct voice.

OOC:

Smoke Alarm, SP for Impulsive

22:57, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 14 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 6,2.  Reacting to "how you do" : Resolve(3) + Ingenuity(3).
22:57, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 12 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 4,2.  Reacting to "how you do" : Resolve(3) + Ingenuity(3).

For the rough logistics of it, we'll say that Smoke is down to 1 area away from the one she went toward; it is now 2 away from Stanley and the other is 2 away from both.

Let's let Stanley weigh in and act before going forward on this thread.

Trav waits until the Cheetah person has clearly left. She pokes her head out.

She takes one more look around. "All clear?" If Kalath gives the affirmative, she says, "Thank you. It seems that you and they have an...understanding."

With concern, Trav breaks out her Ipad to track down her companions. "We have to find my friends." She pings their phones, silently.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:50, Tue 31 May 2016.

A shrug.

"Then do that. This is -food- for my friends. I have no reason to go with you. You need me, more than I need you. You have given me no reason to go find people I don't know, have never met. I barely even know you, and yet you're asking me to delay providing food for -my- friends; on a planet where food is scarce, and only few of us can provide it, so you can find your friends who may or may not even be alive."

"Go ahead then. Do what you need to do. No judgements - I spent a lifetime on a world not too different from this."

Trav links back to the TARDIS sensors over the network. Time to get serious.

OOC: Ingenuity+Tech or Science?

A shrug.

"Don't complain when you can't find the Elders."

She then took her rig, and left, returning to the city.

Big cats...but not the kind he had expected. Humanoid, intelligent and definitely not the kind you could scare away with loud noises and waving your arms.  Smoke didn't seem afraid, stepping forward and doing her 'how you do' routine. Stanley wouldn't have moved closer to the cheetah-people in the first place, but Smoke got a response.

Stanley doesn't like the response, but there is not much he can do. Running away would be a sign of weakness and especially stupid when you are dealing with cheetah-people. They are almost certainly faster than him. He is painfully aware that he is the weakest link here and that if a fight broke out, it would be effectively two against one. In the end he just stands there, waiting to see what that cat meant by 'mine'.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:02, Tue 31 May 2016.

"You wouldn't leave the people you love behind, would you?"

"I said I'd find them -when- I returned this to the city. Otherwise, it's going to rot and go to waste. But your choice. As I said, I'm not sticking around. Where there's one Hunter, there's more."

There is an ever so slight emphasis on 'Hunter'. It was more than just hunter.

Coming to the end of the how-you-do, Smoke Alarm clapped her hands and held them up to the cat-person, hoping they'd get the idea and put paws to palms. She was a little concerned about that "mine", but mayhaps she hadn't worked out what the words here meant yet.

"Not yourrs yet," the second cheetah growls.  "This one... harrdly a meal.  Let's play firrst, brrother,"  It sways a bit, tilting its head to and fro.

"Hungrry," the first objects. "Ffunny little thing.  How ffast can it rrrun?"  Its eyes flick over to Stanley.  "Catch that one ffirrst.  Save it forr eating.  This one, we set to chasing."

Taking one hand off the spear, it gives a little hiss and an little, clawed swipe in Smoke Alarm's direction, nowhere near actually touching her, but it's clear that the claws are no joke.

OOC:

This might be a place where an Ingenuity + Science (Exobiology) could give you an advantage; if Stanley can beat a Tricky (15).  Empathic probably works for it, too.  If you succeed you can concoct a behavioral explanation that may help you get out of this.

Thanks to Smoke Alarm's successes, it is not a dead certainty that the cheetahs are going to attack, though it is certainly the way their instincts have them leaning.

The remote feed is picking up Smoke and Stanley and their phones with no trouble.  They're perhaps a third of the way from the TARDIS to Trav's present location.  The sensors are additionally showing Trav a couple of additional humanoid life signs very close to them.

OOC:

22:04, Today: The Guardian rolled 17 on behalf of The Traveller using 2d6+14 with rolls of 1,2.  Scanning for companions: Ingenuity(8) + Science(6).

"SHIT. There are two of them on to of my companions. Your 'Hunters' better not have hurt them, or they will know what it's like to be on the fucking menu themselves."

Trav immediately trots off, chambering her pistols, like a woman who has been through hell and back. VHRREEEEEM.

She calls them. "STAN, SMOKE. I'm on my way."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:19, Wed 01 June 2016.

"YOu can't... you don't understand."

A scowl, ripping off some of the meat of the wolf for herself.

"You owe me a meal."

She pulled an arrow to the string.

"Where?"

She scampered through the ruins; and if she could get a fix as to where Traveller thought they were, should would take off the quickest route to there, but trying to stay as hidden as she could.

Trav, still trot-striding, shows her the Ipad. "Here, that way. And anywhere in time and space, or one cooked by my own hands. Food for your people, too." She pauses, but doen't stop moving. "What don't I understand? I've met cat people up and down time and space. Something I should know about these clowns?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Wed 01 June 2016.

"Just... don't kill. No matter what. Don't. Kill."

She glances at the Ipad, and if she can understand it, she'll just nod briefly, before taking off to where they were; slipping into hiding when she got close.

Kalath is briefly startled by the device in the stranger's hand, but quickly is able to grasp the idea, amazing as it seems.  Maps are an obvious tool; a map that can accurately show you a person's present location is something else entirely.

Again -- although the stranger seems like a rather disappointing and foolish sort for a sorcerer -- this is just the sort of magic they're reputed to wield, like watchfires that do not burn, or pictures that dance and sing.

"You -are- a sorcerer. Why didn't you say so?"

A sorcerer would owe her -big- if she saved her servants.

Making sure her bow was ready, she led the way. 2 Hunters was a problem, and the best way to deal with it was by getting the drop on them; so they could take out 1.

With hands still held out and untouched, Smoke said back to Stanley 'You knowhow, I don't think they want to how-you-do at all...' She hopped back to his side, before the cat-man from the hairdresser's could give her a haircut with its claws. Hungry? Meal? Eating? They wanted to eat them! 'You're Rezzies! Greedy-guts! Hungry hippos!' she accused. She guessed that was why they should 'ware the kitacats. And what else had the stranger said: no ball-games, no fly-posts, no to-dos. She could run, but Stanley couldn't.


OOC: I'll wait to see what Stanley comes up with.

"Because I'm not. I'm not from your world, I don't follow your rules. I'm a Time Lord. Altogether different, and I know personally quite a few real magicians. Don't think I'm like anyone from around here. But I will be deeply grateful if you can help me rescue my family members."

"So, here, and here. Can we ambush them? These are ranged weapons."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:04, Wed 01 June 2016.

"I think you are right. They want to eat us." Stanley quietly responds to Smoke. With running out of the question he shifted his attention completely to the two cat-persons, watching how they move and what they are doing. Them talking about how they are going to capture him and chase Smoke is distressing, but at least it clearly reveals their motives. He tries to come up with something that could help them get out of this situation. It is too late to play dead, but there must be something that would move them from the 'food' to the 'leave-alone' category.

OOC: So many modifiers...
11:01, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 18 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 6,2.  Ingenuity(4)+Science(Exobiology)(4) + Empathic(2).

This message was last edited by the player at 09:11, Wed 01 June 2016.

As Stanley watches the by-play between the cheetahs, he starts to get the idea that although they clearly have some level of sapience, they're also very powerfully influenced by instinct and predatory behavior.  But the fact that they're talking this over, and talking about playing, seems to be an indicator that they have other drives besides hunting and hunger, at least at the moment.  Perhaps there's a way out of this (besides the obvious and unhappy ones) that involves satisfying some of those urges, besides the call of the hunt.

Cats are curious, right? Don't be boring and they won't kill you. Or they will kill you, but not right now. They'll first want to see what you are doing. What is interesting? And also it should not appear threatening to the cheetahs? Trav's location? The Tardis? Would cheetah-people be interested in that? Even if they were that would only buy Stanley as long as it takes to communicate that information. No, they need something slower.

Then inspiration strikes and Stanley immediately starts executing his plan, if you can call it that. With slow, deliberate movements he pulls out some plants and clears out part of the ground right in front of him. He arrange the plant material in small piles, using roots and plant-stems to form lines connecting the piles. To call it a wallscrawl, would be an insult to wallscrawls, but he is trying to use plant material and his severely lacking creative talents to draw something on the ground. It probably won't look anything like what it is supposed to be, a zebra, but it will look like something. Hopefully the two cheetah-people want to know what he is doing more than they want to eat him.

Stanley does not look at the two predators whilst he is making his piece of street art.

The body language of the second cheetah, the less aggressive of the two, shifts as she notices what Stanley is doing.  She's still holding her spear, but it is pointed loosely toward the ground, as she takes first one hesitant step, then another and another, forward towards Stanley and his impromptu artwork.

Her compatriot's attention stays on Smoke Alarm longer.  But eventually he notices what the other is doing.  From where he is, with Smoke Alarm between him and Stanley, he has a rather poor view of the proceedings.  He starts to edge around Smoke Alarm, giving a half-hearted poke in her direction with the spear to "ward her off" which, again, comes nowhere near her.  All the way, he's craning his head toward the ground in front of Stanley, until he has moved to a point where he can make it out the design clearly.

The female crouches down, a fair distance from Stanley, and uses her spear to point toward the "zebra."

"What does it make?"

'Warily, Smoke Alarm outlooked at the cat-people as they footed closer and circled around, also trying to fend them off and get them to keep-away. Then she eyespied Stan's handiwork. It certainly got Smoke Alarm's attention too. She always had been a little bit cat-like, after all, as curious as a cat, or a child. She leaned over Stanley's work, hands on knees. 'Whatcha doing? A ground-scrawl? A horsey?' she wondered. That left only Puddy to glare at the two cat-people.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:07, Sun 05 June 2016.

OOC:

At the moment I'm not super sure about the direction Stanley is likely to take this, but if it seems like it is appropriate to be checking how well you are holding the cheetahs' attention, I'll say that can be Ingenuity + Presence.  (I debated being mean and saying Craft, but, it's not really about how good of a zebra it is, right?)

If & when it seems like the time for Kalath to make her approach shows up, that is Coordination + Subterfuge, and she should also make an Awareness + Ingenuity + Keen Senses at that time.

OOC: Figured. Does it count as sneaking? I mean I'm assuming so, but just in case...

OOC: Yep.

Trav is not a melee fighter. She lets Kalath go ahead, and tries to creep up on the position and get a view of what's going on, one pistol held behind her back.

OOC: Coordination+Subterfuge?

"Not a horse, but close." Stanley is still busy arranging plants and finishing his design. He is glad that Smoke thinks it looks like a horse.  "It is supposed to be a zebra. I guess you could say they are horses with stripes."



OOC: Yes, it is not about the artistic value of the piece :).
and here is the roll, spending one SP because I don't want to be eaten(11 left)
15:16, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 21 using 4d6+7 with rolls of 2,6,5,1.  Ingenuity(4)+Presence(3)+SP(2d6).

As Stanley works, the cheetahs watch, fascinated.  The female actually forgets herself far enough that she sits down, with her spear propped over her shoulder.

By the time Stanley has finished making the four-footed outline and fleshed it in with the stripy patterns that hint at not just the hide, but the musculature of an ungulate from a distant world, he can make out a thick, involuntary rumbling coming from the throats and chests of the cheetah people.

There's a brief, awkward pause as Stanley realizes that he's out of zebra to make and the cheetahs are practically within arm's length.  The cheetahs seem to sense it, too.  But then the male takes an alarming pace forward and his spear whips around -- and Stanley hardly has time to react before he realizes that the male has reversed the weapon, and is using the butt-end of it to scatter the zebra "picture" into just a collection of uprooted plant material.

The male looks at Stanley and shows fangs.  "Do it again!"

Meanwhile, Kalath and Trav are approaching the scene....

OOC: Fans!

Kalath crept ever closer to the area, moving into hiding, her bow out as she snuck.

OOC:
13:21, Today: Kalath rolled 25 using 4d6+10 with rolls of 2,4,6,3.  Co-ordination + Sneaking  + Story Point! Down to 12.
13:22, Today: Kalath rolled 13 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 1,5.  Awareness + Ingenuity + Keen Senses.

'Icehot!' Smoke Alarm applauded Stanley's effort with the zebra. She got the idea of his trick to distract the cat-people; mayhaps they would forget about eating them. 'I didn't know you could do art. You have to comeout wall-scrawling with me.' She was outlooking, but also hovering around Stanley to make sure the cat-people didn't get too close and eat him. 'Now do a heffalump!' Of course, she could get her paints out and make some icehot wallscrawls to show-and-tell the cat-people, but it was a good idea not to jump to the best things too quickly. Nor to outdo Stanley's stick art.

As Kalath moves carefully into position and gets a sense of the overall situation, a chill runs through her.

Not at the Hunters, so much, as one of the Traveller's friends has apparently hit upon the tactic of distracting them with something harmless but entertaining.  Not a bad idea, although it is best to use only while thinking up a better one: the attention span of a Hunter is liable to go to pieces at the worst possible time: when they remember their bellies.

No, what worries Kalath is what she spots there and there and there, lurking around the periphery of the little meeting.  Small, black shapes, watching from across the crest of a Old World vehicle-mound, or from the covering brush of a low bush.  Kalath counts three, but there might be more -- and if they are gathering, then more Hunters may not be far behind.

Kitlings.

Oh wonderful. Two Hunters were bad enough; but she thought maybe if got the drop on them she could scare them off. With kitlings around; there were more to come, and so she had to get rid of these two; fast. Preferably before they started getting hungry again.

The arrow already at the string, was let loose at the one closest to the Traveller's friends; before yelling her warning.

"'Ware hunters. The sorcerer comes!"


14:30, Today: Kalath rolled 14 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 5,1.  Co-ordination + Marksmanship.

Stanley flinches as he sees his drawing getting destroyed. The game is up, they didn't like it. It is a big, but very welcome, surprise that the cheetah doesn't immediately attack him, but wants him to make the drawing again.



"A what?" Stanley has no idea what animal Smoke is wanting him to draw. On top of that the Cheetah-person had just told him to make the zebra again. He picks up the scattered materials and gets ready to remake the zebra, knowing full well it is not as intriguing now that everyone knows what he is doing.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, his work is interrupted.

Trav, for her part, is shimmying on the ground, crawling through the foilage and mixing her scent in with the green growth, sneaking up on aforementioned cheetah person from behind. It might even work! Hopefully the attack will be enough to distract them from a flank.

OOC: 17:39, Today: The Traveller rolled 19 using 4d6+7 ((2,6,2,2)). Coordination 4+Subterfuge 1+Story Point (now 5) plus maybe cover bonuses.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:59, Sat 04 June 2016.

She cupped her hands to her ears, as if to make them bigger. 'You know, a dumbo!' Smoke tried to look all big like one, and failed. 'A— a snuffaluffagus.' She put her arm to her nose, and raised it into the air. 'Neerr!' She meant, of course, an elephant. This was certainly going to distract the cheetah people, even confuse them utterly.

But Smoke Alarm wouldn't get to eyespy Stanley's elephant.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:57, Sat 04 June 2016.

OOC:  Here's how this is going to roll:

1. The Cheetahs get a perception roll to see if they notice Kalath and / or Trav.  There's an effective +2 to their rolls because Stanley has them distracted.
2. Kalath's attack happens.  Figure on +2 for a Good sneak, +4 for a Fantastic one.
3. Kalath gets a Story Point for Impulsive.
4. New turn.  Everybody decides what they're doing.  Trav, if she passes her sneak check, may get a surprise bonus per #2.

20:56, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 14 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 4,1.  Perception on sneaking PCs: Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).
20:55, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 15 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 2,4.  Perception on sneaking PCs: Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

We'll say the male had the lower roll.

21:00, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah, rolled 17 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 4,4.  Dodging: Awareness(4) + Coordination(5)

With the +4, Kalath's arrow hits.  Cheetahs, unfortunately, have Tough per the sourcebook writeup -- I am downgrading them a little bit, because otherwise they are pretty much more lethal than Sereth with his sword, but they've still got that.  So that soaks up the damage of the arrow.

The arrow arcs out of Kalath's shooting blind -- to Smoke Alarm and Stanley, as if from nowhere -- and smacks into the male with a meaty thwack.  Immediately, he lets out an ear-splitting YOWWWL! and snatches up his spear, business end forward, whirling around with the arrow still lodged in his side to search for his assailant.

The female, likewise, springs to her feet, looking around to try to pick up the unseen enemy.  Both of the cheetahs are making angry growling noises, and the female is taking time from her own searching to glare and snarl angrily at Stanley, although she's not making a move to attack him... yet.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:22, Sat 04 June 2016.

She growled, and hissed, almost seeming more like a cat herself at this point. THey'd be on her soon, so she quickly strung her arrow to the bow and fired again, this time putting all her effort into it. She couldn't fight two off.

"Fly, you fools!"

After firing she moved back a bit, to try to keep them at range.

OOC: I think it's insanely likely she'll have her first change in this fight, but I do think it's more likely to happen once she's in melee. If by a miracle that never happens...

How far away are they?

Turn around and use that story point on an attack roll.

12:14, Today: Kalath rolled 26 using 4d6+8 with rolls of 4,3,6,5.  Co-ordination + Marksmanship + Story Point.

Holy guacamole.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:11, Sat 04 June 2016.

Smoke Alarm started as an arrow flew out of nowhere – normally that was a Kang trick – hitting one of the cat-people. 'Welp, we're outgoing. Build high for happyness!' she told the cat-people, grabbed Stanley's hand and yanking him with her as she footed all-speed down the grassy street.


OOC: Run away!

OOC: Maybe 4 Areas, going on the basis that you are about as far from them as they were from Stanley & Smoke originally.  Not far enough to give you any kind of shooting penalty; eminently within range to close with you if you don't move.

OOC: Okay. I've edited my post lightly to reflect that she'll be moving back, but there's no doubt that I can't keep a couple of cheetah-people at range forever.

The cheetah closest to Stanley gets hit by something and lets out a loud screaming sound. Before Stanley understands what is going on, Smoke is already running and pulling him along. The sudden attack is providing a good distraction for them to get away.

Smoke Alarm hauls Stanley along after her, steering nimbly through the ruined streets as best she can while keeping the slowpoke moving and on his feet.  A quick look back confirms that the cat-people are sprinting off in an entirely different direction, but they're fast and they're nearly as good at footing as Smoke is!  Stopping doesn't seem to be in the immediate future.

She seems to be doing this all the time these days....

OOC: Cue the Kang Running Song!

Stanley & Smoke can decide where they're getting to and when they're likely to stop.

'Spose that's why we should 'ware kitacats!' Smoke Alarm huffed to Stanley as they footed all speed down the street. At first, she'd only wanted to get away from the cat-rezzies, but she veered in the direction they'd been going when tracking Traveller, so they could mayhaps still lost-and-found her.

The cat-rezzies didn't seem to be chasing anyhow; instead, they seemed to be chasing whoever had shot the arrow, but Smoke Alarm didn't intent to loiter and find out the winner of that to-do. Sides, they were speedy, almost as speedy as her. They'd be fastest on open roads, she realised. 'Off the streets! Into the shops – hide-ins and carrydoors.' she beckoned Stanley, pulling him with her into the next open door.


OOC: So, run away, make good distance, and get into hiding in a building of some kind, unless Stanley has another idea?

That's Trav's cue. She pops up from foilage and immediately fires off a turbopistol shot. "RUN FOR THE TARDIS," she shots, as she opens fire at the other cheetah.

OOC: I'll wait until the shoot phase, then fire at girl cheetah.

"Good idea." Stanley manages to say. He is out of breath from the running. "Was...was that Trav telling us to go to the Tardis? We shouldn't, she is danger. The local too. Remember what that mysterious woman told us."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:37, Sun 05 June 2016.

OOC: OK, you can make a Coordination + Marksmanship roll.

And also a Resolve + Ingenuity, please.

Trav fires off a skillsful shot! Does it connect?

OOC:14:16, Today: The Traveller rolled 17 using 2d6+12 with rolls of 4,1.  Ingenuity 8+Resolve 4 - Check as per GM.
OOC: 14:15, Today: The Traveller rolled 24 using 4d6+9 with rolls of 6,5,3,1.  Coordination 4+Marksman 3+Turbopistols 2+SP. Down to 4 SP.

'Probly Traveller.' Smoke decided. 'Who else would call it a "tardis"?' She risked an outlook back, but couldn't eyespy anything but what had to be Trav's rayguns. 'Yep, I rememorise. We should catch-up with her. This way!' She eyespied a dark alley between shops and veered down it, hoping to find an unseen outway so they could track back to the shooters.

As the cheetahs race off toward the concealed Kalath, another arrow shoots out and hits the male with another thwack, a more palpable hit this time.  It snarls again and stumbles, but it keeps coming.

When Trav pops up and fires, she feels an unaccountable surge of excitement and rage pour through her.  Despite that, her aim is true.  Silvery blasts of energy sizzle out and punch through the air between her and her target with a sizzling sound.  The yelp! as the female cheetah goes down brings Trav back to herself, somewhat, and she checks the pistol settings in a bit of a panic.  Did she forget and take the power indicator off STUN ?

OOC:

Trav, I'll be damned if I can find any coherent writeup of the pistols anywhere, as weapons.  I question the +2 you added just for being a gadget, when they're used as guns.

It doesn't make a heck of a lot of difference in this case.  As energy weapons their "Good" damage level in this case is probably Lethal anyway.  Your willpower roll was adequate to keep you from using the kill setting, unless you wanted that.

Kalath, the Cheetah you've been shooting will get to hand-to-hand with you next turn.  It takes 1 net wound from your attack (kind of sad for a SP) -- do you want that against Coordination or Strength?

10:27, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 14 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 3,2.  Dodging Trav: Awareness(4) + Coordination(5).
10:26, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 20 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 6,5.  Dodging Kalath: Awareness(4) + Coordination(5).

OOC: Wow that reallly is depressing. Co-ordination I guess. Try and make it a bit easier to injure him next time.

IC: She howls, and then grabs out the spear, and launches herself at the Cheetah-person.

"Run! Save your friends!"

She was losing herself here. There was a reason she liked the bow beyond just taking something down before they're in combat was safe; it was easier to maintain a reign on her emotions when firing at range. But now, as she sunk the spear towards the injured Cheetah person, she could feel the Call. It was welling up inside her, just asking to be answered. Who was she to deny that Call?

OOC:
13:40, Today: Kalath rolled 9 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,1.  Co-ordination + Fighting - 2 (2nd action) - Dodging.
13:40, Today: Kalath rolled 27 using 4d6+8 with rolls of 6,2,5,6.  Co-ordination + Fighting + SP - Attack.
Oh that could get nasty. Down to 11 story points. Only hope is if I do enough damage...

OOC: Roger that, I may be working off of my old RPG.net 2nd Trav writeup. Just deduct that 2 off then.

Trav blinks. As a Time Lord and master telepath, she's extraordinarily self possessed - this is what enabled her to achieve victory against the Osirian back in Egypt, and she was quite familiar with the cold, world burning rage of the Marshall.

But this was different. The Marshall's world consuming anger was like a terrible knife, and extremely calculating. The cold hatred of the Marshall never felt good. She hated herself back then as much as she hated everything else.

Something weird is going on here, and she isn't leaving. She takes that giddy, joyful, selfish rage and wraps it in something that she has always used to conquer her own monstrous urges - the deep overwhelming ocean like sadness from the centuries of the Time War. She holds in her mind the faces of everyone she ever hurt, all the families she ever destroyed, all the words and civilizations she ended. She makes this alien predatory joy drown in sadness, awareness, responsibility and guilt, as she lines up the next shot. She specifically checks her weapon to make sure it's on STUN.

OOC: Two actions - resolve+ingenuity to keep control, and coordination+marksman for another shot, with a -2 2nd action penalty?

"I didn't think of that, but you are right. Those cheetahs don't even know what the Tardis is." Stanley is glad to have a moment to rest after running away from the cheetah. It doesn't last long and Smoke leads the way back to where Trav and the local are.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Tue 07 June 2016.

'Well, they must have talkiphone boxes here.' Smoke Alarm outlooked around a corner, checking the coast was clear before she led Stanley down the alley and around the building, using her urban survival skills to know the lay of the streets. She didn't eyespy any kitacats out and lurking, but she knew cats hunted rats in alleys, so she would be careful all the same.


OOC: Find a route: 21
09:32, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 21 using 2d6+11 with rolls of 6,4. Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Sense of Direction(2) + Keen Senses(2).

Ware kitacats: 12
09:34, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 12 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 2,1. Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

With a burst of speed, the Hunter leaps at Kalath, his spear whirling to strike...

But Kalath feels fire burn in her blood, and she's just that fraction faster.  Her spear drives through the Hunter's jerkin, his breastbone and vitals, punching out through his back.  She hears a roaring in her ears; her whole world is afire with scent and sight and sound.

She barely feels anything when blind momentum sends the Hunter -- and his blade -- crashing into her, sending her sprawling.

OOC:

Both the Cheetah and the pre-Cheetah (Kalath) have Quick Reflexes, so this is essentially all over by the time Trav does anything.  Trav's blood is definitely up, though.

I would definitely say that this qualifies as the Call hitting Kalath at last.  You do 7 damage after the Cheetah's Tough, enough to kill him outright.  You have some interesting choices at this point.

You have just been socked with a crazy adrenaline rush, in addition being solidly wounded.  With your own Tough, that damage goes down to 4.  You can spend 1 SP to buy that down to half damage (3 -> 1), or 2 to just bounce it, per the damage rules.  I would say that even if you choose to keep all the damage, feeling the Call for the first time will keep you on your feet to interact with the other PCs for a while.

You've also got (temporarily) the Cheetah porting power, and there's fresh meat right here you could take back to the Stronghold! :)

Kalath, take it away.

20:55, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 12 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 1,5.  Dodging Kalath: Coordination(4) + Fighting(4) -2 (second action).
20:54, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 2,5.  Attacking Kalath: Coordination(4) + Fighting(4).

Smoke Alarm eyespys a part of a building with a caved-in section through its brickwork.  Still trawling Stanley behind her, she threads through the building to a spot where the two of them have a clear outlook on the Traveller, guns out and humming, and the spot where the male cheetah has smashed into another figure -- herself clutching a spear, with a bow laying on the ground to one side, but apparently a normal human-type person.  (At first glance, anyway).

Smoke and Stanley are appalled to see that the cheetah that the doctor was just making zebra-pictures for has the woman's spear driven through him, with a red stain rapidly darkening his clothes and his pelt.

Outlooking over the broken wall, Smoke Alarm was shocked and sickened by what she eyespied. Red paint, everywhere. Something was wrong, not just with the people making each other unalive, but with Traveller, guns out and outlooking, for a ticktock, like a meaniehead. She rememorised the stranger's words, and felt so worried for her friend. 'Trav! Fire escape, all speed!' she hissed urgently, beckoning her away.

She howled, and squatted in front of the dead cheetah-person. This amount of meat would keep her tribe going for quite some time. Her eyes flickered, certainly more like a cat than a human now, and she hissed as she glanced at Trav.

"'Ware Kitlings. Where they lurk, more Hunters follow. Grab my hand, I take you somewhere safe."

It was harder to articulate the dangers that the Kitlings posed now; but she knew it existed.

OOC: I'll just spend the 1 to knock the injury down, rather than totally bounce it. Mainly because I can't see a solid reason -not- to teleport at this point; given she did see the Kitlings.

Smoke Alarm gives a start as, out of the corner of her eye, she spots a kitacat.  It's not one of the big spotty people-cats, it's just a normal-sized cat, black in color, and yet somehow not as friendly or funny as a cat should be.  Not even a strange talky not-a-cat cat like Boots had been.

The cat glares at her balefully and hisses.

Seeing that Kalath has disptached the Cheetah person, she's startled that at the cat like cast of Kalath's eyes. There was something here, something that it took the titanic sadness of the Time War to drown out.

She is the Traveller, if she kills, she will decide when and how, not some local psychic phenomena. With effort, she puts her gun back into it's holster.

Time to make a call - she decides to trust this woman who saved her life.

"Let's go, I'll follow."

As Trav is running after Kalath, she whips out her phone. "Smoke, Stanley! Pick up!" She barks this to herself. She's pinging her location to Stan and Smoke to their phones, which should appear on their map apps.

The scowl of the Marshall is on her face. She finds the back of her mind running through scenarios to scour the planet clean of all life, and has to make herself stop thinking that.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:39, Tue 07 June 2016.

Unless Traveller avoids it, she grabs the dead Cheetah person, and then her other hand grabs Trav's wrist and then... she steps, and vanishes through, back to the Stronghold.

OOC: Spend story point. Teleport home.

The Traveller wasn't expecting this. As they disappear, her eyes go wide. "A transmat? Wai-"

And they are gone.

Smoke was calling out to Traveller, but it was too far, much too far, and the dying cat-people were kicking at the dirt and yowling and screeching like, well, like cats. She was about to climb over the wall and foot closer, when she eyespied the black kitacat – the real kitacat, she realised. Ordinarily, if she had the ticktocks, she might have said how-you-do, given it a pat, and asked where the rats were. Now, she might have never-minded it. But to eyespy the mean black puss made her feel unbold, its hiss sent a chilly feeling down her back, and her instincts made her keep-away, the way rats did from cats.

She outlooked away, outlooked for Traveller again, only to see her running hand-in-hand with the other woman, disappearing in a flash of white light and a whoosh. 'Traveller! No!' Smoke Alarm cried, but, too late, she was outgone.

She grabbed Stanley's arm. 'What happened? Where did they go?'

"I...I don't know. They just disappeared." Stanley is trying to think of an explanation. Unless the two and the cheetah corpse were vaporised by some sort of energy weapon, and Stanley really hopes that is not the case, the local must have had a device with her. It seems bit more high-tech than the arrows and spears they've seen so far. "They are either invisible or somewhere else and I don't know where that could be. Either way I guess they would go to some safe place here in this city."

Stanley and Smoke Alarm both become aware that their phones are signalling them, in whatever particular idiom identifies the Traveller.

The message they open from Trav, timed just a minute or so ago, is displaying a top-down view of city blocks and intersections, with a blinky red light, plus a solid white one.  (In Smoke Alarm's case, the ancient black handset that Trav souped up for her weeks ago is projecting this as a tiny hologram.)

As the pair study this, there's another blip of silver light off to their left: when Smoke Alarm looks that way, the black cat in the alley has vanished.

BLIP

BLIP

BLIP
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:46, Wed 08 June 2016.

The Traveller finds herself, Smoke- and Stan-less, with Kalath on a street apparently elsewhere in the city -- the air and the temperature are much the same as the departure point, and Trav's inherent spatial sense tells her she hasn't been transmatted far.

On the block that she's facing, there are a half-dozen three- and four-story buildings, isolated from the rest of the block by a pair of collapsed structures.  This group of buildings, and the streets around them, have been cleared of overgrowth, except that she can see tall stands of vines twined around an open steel framework atop two of the builidngs.  The small cluster of buildings is surrounded by a sturdy-looking twelve-foot cyclone fence, topped with rolls of razor wire.

Kalath, of course, knows this place -- it has been home all her life.  This is the Stronghold.

She looks at the form of the Hunter she's carrying, and wonders whether this is a well-judged haul to be bringing home with her.  The people of the Stronghold don't eat Hunter as a rule, because it's very rare that one is killed, and even rarer that one is defeated without the victor succumbing to the Call.

She is, she suddenly becomes aware, exceptionally hungry.

If only she'd brought back that damn wolf. But they couldn't turn back meat, could they?

Oh but they could. Didn't matter that she was still -Kalath-. Best drop this stranger off with the elders, then go out and hunt again. For something more palatable.

She licked her lips, hungrily. There was no point in wasting this food though, was there? And her encounter with the Kitlings reminded her of how short life could be.

The adrenaline still pouring through her, she dropped to her knees, and started ripping off pieces of meat, and devouring them. Didn't seem to matter that there was no fire to warm the food. Food was food.

When she had had her fill, she decided it might be best to bury the body. Don't want her friends getting alarmed. She then struggled to try control herself; unaware of her eyes and other tell-tale signs, she just concentrated on not feeling the blood, smelling the blood of the Hunt.

"What the hell? Where are my people?" Obviously this was a short range transmat.

She immediatley whips out her Ipad, as she works to triangulate Stan and Smoke.

She'll yell at her would be rescuer later. She turns so that she's facing Kalath. She phones through her Ipad. "Stan, Smoke. This is Trav. Can you hear me?" She overrides the phones so she can speak to them over the speaker.

Snatching up her vibrashaking talkiphone, Smoke Alarm eyespied the map and blinky lights on the picture-spout (with a hollowgram, it really did spout!). 'Oh! A blipper! Like the G9H Suspect Tracker!' she exclaimed, recognising the concept from the Caretakers' gadget, only much smaller. 'It must show-and-tell where Trav is.'

Then the nasty black alley-cat vanished too, and Smoke Alarm thought good riddance to it, unless it was going the same place as Traveller. She turned the map around, tried to find some streets and landmarks, though she'd barely eyespied any of this city so far, and started footing in a direction away from the unalive cat-person. As her talkiphone rang, she told Stan 'You talk, I track!'


OOC: Tracking Traveller: 15, though the blipper may give a bonus
13:57, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 15 using 2d6+11 with rolls of 1,3.  Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Sense of Direction(2) + Keen Senses(2).

"Trav? This is Stanley. I can hear you loud and clear. We also received that message you sent." Stanley looks at Smoke studying the holographic map. She has decided on a route and he follows her. "Smoke and I are not too far from where we encountered those cheetahs. We were just trying to find a safe way back to you, when you disappeared. You scared us a bit, what happened? Where are you now?"

Trav is still alive, but the mysterious stranger had warned about a danger that threatened not just her life. She had also warned them against Trav's new friend, so she isn't safe yet.
"Trav, are you okay?"

Trav breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh, my two dearest hearts, I'm fine. OK, I think I see you. My new friend teleported me into this armed compound. I'll try to use the TARDIS sensors remotely to see if more of those cheetah people are tracking you. Smoke, foot quietly and be outlooking for kitacats, please watch Stan. I'm OK, for the moment. How about you two?" She looks over at Kalath. "I'm this woman's guest, it seems."

She immediately works to find the pair on her map. She'd rather they were heading back to the TARDIS, but that's probably now not an option.

"You don't need to worry about us, we're both fine." At the mention of the cheetah people, Stanley can't help but look around him. He can't see anything suspicious, but just to be sure he lowers the volume of his phone. "I don't know how long the situation would have stayed that way, but the Cheetahs weren't actively attacking us. They were still in the 'intimidate and toy with your prey' phase. Luckily, you two gave us the opportunity get away."
This message was last updated by the player at 22:51, Wed 08 June 2016.

OOC: Trav; is the phone at your end on speaker-phone?

Smoke Alarm's decision to track while Stanley talked lasted only until she heard Traveller's voice through the talkiphone. She jammed her blue-haired head halfway between it and Stan's, making it very crowded around the talkiphone. 'Trav! You went whoosh into a flash!' she exclaimed in relief. 'I will! And you 'ware the cat-people, coz they're greedy-guts rezzies that eat peoples, and 'ware the little black kitacats coz they do the same mayhaps. And rememorise: no ball-games, no fly-posts, no to-dos and no unalives.'

Smoke Alarm has a pretty good sense of spatial relations and -- at least until she distracts herself to start giving Trav the knowhow through Stanley's talkiphone -- she is able to orient herself against the holo-map well enough that the white dot starts creeping in the direction of the red dot.

As she finishes her expostulation, her ears pick up something from back the way they came:

BLIP

BLIP

'...Okay, mayhaps we should be outgoing...' she began quietly, urging Stan on, 'waring the sound behind her. Of course, the cat-people had to have earspied the to-do, with all that yowling and hissing like a, well, a cat-fight. She started footly swiftly on her trail, trying to keep to the buildings and alleys, out of outlook from the streets, where the pussycats lurked.

OOC: This sounds more like sneak(er)ing than running.  Let's just make the escape a Hard (18) difficulty.  Smoke Alarm can roll the Coordination + Subterfuge.  Stanley, if you want to propose a way that you're helping (could be something that plays more to your strengths than Coordination + Subterfuge) and make a roll against Normal (12), you can boost Smoke: +2 for Success, +4 for Good, +6 for Fantastic

OOC: And we're going to need that Good result, Stan. :)
11:18, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 1,6. coordination(5) + subterfuge(3).

OOC: Trav is actually using her Ipad on speaker, yes.

"Little black kit-cats?"  Trav looks at Kalath.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Fri 10 June 2016.

Stanley nods and does his best to quietly follow Smoke. The fact that they are being chased by creatures that look and behave in a catlike manner gives Stanley an idea. Cats hate the smell of citrus fruits. He doesn't have an orange or something with him, but he does have something else.

When Smoke and Stanley move through a narrow alley stops for a second. He grabs a small bottle of smelling salts from his bag and spreads the contents behind him. Humans already react strongly to the stuff and cats have a better sense of smell, so hopefully this will provide a distraction. Or maybe force their pursuers to take a detour to avoid this alley.

OOC: Coordination+Knowledge?
Oops, I have made things worse:(, maybe Stanley spilled some on himself and this made him even easier to track?

01:07, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 10 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 1,3.  Coordination (3) + Knowledge(3) Spreading smelling salts.

This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Fri 10 June 2016.

OOC: Nah, given that you could have just said "I help Smoke" and had a +2, it would be mean to penalize you.

Mind, the pair of you still didn't break contact, so this is going to get a whole lot more exciting.  Again.

As Stanley and Smoke move away from the area where he spread his little diversion, they see that one of the cheetahs is coming nearer to the area.  It's sort of prowling along as it approaches, watching the ground near its feet as it does.  Tracking.  It stops.  Frowns.  Glances towards the alley.

Its eyes narrow, and it raises its head and snarls...

OOC: Figure you are 3 areas away from this one, and 4 areas away from another.

"Kitlings. Kitlings are the real danger, not the Hunters."

She paused momentarily in her meal.

'I don't think the sprinkles worked.' Smoke whispered as she eyespied the cat-person from their hide-in behind a dumpster. It was definitely tracking them, and it would surely track them here. Thinking fast, she snatched up a littered tin and tossed it further down the alley, well away from them. That old trick always worked on dum-dum Caretakers...


OOC: Make a distraction, 10.
14:11, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 10 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,2. ingenuity(3) + subterfuge(3).

The leading Cheetah's head snaps toward the sound of the tin-can, but it quickly narrows back in on the trail again, scanning to and fro.  It pauses and sniffs the air.

OOC: Well, we should certainly give the Cheetahs a fair chance at a crappy roll:

10:57, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Persons, rolled 11 using 2d6+5 with rolls of 1,5.  Fooled by Smoke?  Ingenuity(3) + Subterfuge(2).

Nope.  They haven't completely picked you up, so they're not yet racing down on you.  However, they are closing in.  Distance of 2 & 3 away.

If Trav hasn't closed the connection, I imagine the others have some notion of what is going on.

Smoke Alarm was torn over what to do. She could probly outrun the cat-people, or at least fire-escape them, but Stanley was too much a slow-poke Inbetween. He'd be catched for sure. And no ball-games, no flyposts, no to-dos. Well, his plan had worked once, so why not a second time? 'Wanna try scrawling again?' Smoke whispered to Stan.

*

From down the alley, around the corner and behind the abandoned shop, the Cheetah People heard the rattling of a ball-bearing in a can. Then a sharp hissing, fwsshing, swsshing sound.


OOC: Smoke is wallscrawling. :) She shooes Stanley further away.

"If you could please explain. Sorry to interrupt your eating. I have family members to warn and rescue."

Perhaps chillingly, the Traveller is not bothered at all by Kalath eating.

"Where there is one Kitling, they can have more Hunters on you before you know it."

Her eyes flickering.

"But if you have a Hunter, you can escape. If you are fast. But once a Kitling has your scent, it will never give up, never surrender. You can't negotiate, you can't scare them. THEY WILL NEVER STOP."

"I'm pretty good at dealing with creatures like those. I teach monsters the meaning of the word fear. They better not have hurt the people I love, for heir sakes."

A deep sigh.

"And then you fall into their trap. You can't fight here. You can't kill. You kill too often?" She gestured at the now partially eaten Hunter. "That's what becomes of you. We fear the Kitlings, because we can't fight against them, or we become -Them-. The more vicious a warrior, the scarier you would be, and eventually, you become a Hunter, and the Kitlings your lords."

"I am not sure it is going to work this time," Stanley whispers back, but he doesn't have a better idea. "Do you know how many are hunting us?"

"Do they fear sadness? Do they fear guilt? I can drown them in a sea of that. Guilt, sadness, that's as basic as language. Everyone feels it - everyone. It's even more basic than hunger and fear. You can reject what's right, but you can't ever, ever escape it. I guarantee you that my sadness is greater than their hunger." The eyes of the Traveller have in them a sadness that can drown stars and galaxies.

"Regardless of all that, we have to get my people here."

She speaks into her I pad. "Smoke, Stan, did you get that? Where are you two?"
This message was last edited by the player at 01:27, Mon 13 June 2016.

With a free hand, Smoke Alarm pointed to her ear, then held up two fingers to Stanley, then turned them around.

Stanley holds his phone really close to his mouth. "Can't talk...being hunted."

Whatever Trav might have said next to Stanley is lost: there comes a snarl-hiss from beyond the disintegrating dumpster, and the first of the cheetahs springs into view around it.  It's carrying a long, crooked knife that looks as if its first life might have been as a piece of a vehicle in some bygone industrial age, but it has been fitted with a hide-wrapped hilt and honed until it gleams.  The cheetah rounds on Smoke Alarm's hiding place, and sees....

OOC: We can say that Stanley slipped away before this happens, if that is what you think he would have done.  Stanley can roll Coordination + Subterfuge or Coordination + Athletics if he is just running.  Smoke wants to make an Ingenuity + Craft, and I'll adjudicate how much good she does for Stanley based on that.

Puddy!

In fresh, wet black and white paints, a hasty wallscrawl of the stuffed cat outlooked down upon the Cheetah Person with great disappointment in its behaviour. The Puddy himself outlooked the same from his place in Smoke's packback. And the artist herself turned around, with cans of spray paint in both hands. 'Do you like my wallscrawl?' she asked, sounding casual but rocking on her heels and ready.


OOC: Not so good. I'll drop a Story Point or two to make it effective.
11:17, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 11 using 2d6+5 with rolls of 4,2. ingenuity(3) + craft(2).
This message was last edited by the player at 03:22, Thu 16 June 2016.

Smoke Alarm has made that drawing to give him a chance to escape and it looks like now is the time to go. Stanley feels a bit bad about just running away, but staying here and getting in the way of Smoke wouldn't achieve anything. He sprints away as fast he can, surprised at how much he has recovered from all the running before. There is plant material and rubble in the streets, forcing Stanley to pay attention to where he puts his feet in order to prevent an unfortunate trip.

OOC:Just running, spending a SP(10 left):
01:51, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 22 using 4d6+4 with rolls of 6,2,6,4.  Coordination(3)+Athletics(1)+2d6(SP). Running away.
 

The cheetah plainly seems more puzzled than enthralled by the Puddy glowering down at it.  Perhaps it's the case that Stanley's plant zebra was more fascinating by dint of being created while the earlier cheetahs watched, rather than being suddenly presented as a new and baffling feature of the landscape.  In any case, the cheetah does stay studying it (and Smoke Alarm) for about as long as it takes for the other to make its appearance.

The two size each other up, and the first to arrive begins an angry growling in its throat.  "Find your own food," it says.

A stray distant clatter from the escaping Stanley makes both their heads whip around toward that direction.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 03:13, Fri 17 June 2016.

For a moment, as Stanley is racing away, he ponders some of the out-of-shape patients he used to see back on Earth, in London, and how what they really needed was the proper motivation....

It seems like he really is out in front of the chase -- as far as he can tell, there is no chase at all yet, just abandoned streets and slowly decaying buildings.  Once or twice he sees one of the strange black cats, lounging on a wall or vehicle, but there's a distinct lack of bamf'ing involved.

OOC: CARDIO. :)

It's a very good roll, and Smoke Alarm already bought you time.  Unless something happens where you re-engage with the pursuit or it comes unexpectedly in your direction, you will "get away", although you'll likely be significantly separated from Smoke by that time.

At the distant clatter echoed down the alleyway, Smoke Alarm rolled her eyes. Couldn't they make a sneaky get-away anywhere? Play-time was over, she couldn't distract the two of them, they wouldn't have to go sharesies at all.

'Outlook! A zebra!' Smoke Alarm cried suddenly, quickly raising her cans and spraying each in the face and eyes, painting them black and white.

Hoping they were lights-out blinded, Smoke Alarm spun on her heels and footed away, all speed.


OOC: I'm not quite sure what to roll for that, but here goes:
12:00, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 17 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 6,1.  coordination(5) + marksman(3) + crack shot(2).

Smoke Alarm will run away and try to catch up with Stanley.

She stopped eating now, and buried the rest of the Hunter, then glanced at Traveller.

"Well, if you want to see the Elders, now would be the time for it. Otherwise, I need to hunt to find more food for my tribe."

Stanley is fairly certain that he isn't being chased by the Cheetahs. Those creepy cats are here somewhere, but they don't seem to do anything. Stanley slows down a little, aware of the fact that he is getting further and further away from where Smoke is.

Not knowing what else to do, Stanley unmutes his phone and tries to contact Trav.
"Trav? We are having some trouble with those Cheetahs...Smoke is distracting them, but I don't know what her plan is or how she is doing. That is problem one. Problem two is that even if Smoke manages to deal with those two and we regroup, there is still quite a bit of overgrown city to go. This is their territory and getting to your location is going to be difficult.... Can't you use your friends teleporting device? You have the location of our phones."

Whatever the cheetahs were expecting, it wasn't a dose of Two Spraycans Blazing.  Each one lets out an ear-splitting YOWWWWWL!, and they paw at their faces as Smoke Alarm foots off.

She shoots a glance back at them, and while they are indeed setting off in pursuit, it's plain that they haven't had a proper chance to clear the offending gunk out of their eyes: to an experience flee-er like Smoke Alarm they are clearly not able to see where they're going as well as they would like.

Which means they are merely agile, swift, and now very, very angry.

OOC: Technically, I think that should have been a multiple attack with a penalty on one, but on the other hand there's a reasonable surprise factor based on the Cheetahs not properly grokking aerosol cans.

Smoke Alarm is 2 Areas ahead.  I'll say they now have a 1 Awareness and 1 Coordination penalty.

22:17, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 16 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 4,3.  Dodge Smoke Alarm: Awareness(4) + Coordination(5).
22:17, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 17 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 3,5.  Dodge Smoke Alarm: Awareness(4) + Coordination(5).

Right now, they were as unseeing as cats, but mayhaps they wouldn't be for long. Smoke Alarm needed to stop-sign them now while they couldn't eyespy so good. And, she rememorised: no ball-games, no fly-posts, no to-dos. She had to beat cats at their own game.

'Follow the leader!' Footing all-speed, Smoke Alarm led them through every obstacle she could find, as closely as she dared, vaulting a rubbish bin, darting sharply around a signpost, and diving right through the wreck of a car. Sooner or later, they'd stumble and slip up.


OOC: Trying Stunts at Difficulty Hard, 18, Good success for Smoke Alarm.
12:10, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 22 using 2d6+13 with rolls of 4,5.  Stunt, D 18: coordination(5) + athletics(4) + Jumping(2) + Kang Fu(2).

Smoke Alarm dashes down an alleyway where a metal fire-escape has come away from the side of its building and leans up an the edge of a big rusting truck that blocks off the far end of the alley, making a sort of ramp.  She feels the iron framework start to give way as she's pelting up it, but it holds long enough for her to make the vehicle's roof and hurtle over it.

The pursuing cheetahs are not quite so lucky.  The first one misjudges the height of the roof as the ramp creaks and gives way, tripping and stumbling heavily on the vehicle; as the second tries to avoid the first, the whole roof groans and collapses beneath them.

By the time they struggle free of the debris, Smoke Alarm has widened her lead considerably.

OOC: Plainly, the camera zooms in on two Cheetah People doing the classic cat "I MEANT to do that."

Smoke Alarm's Good result vs. the Cheetahs' Bad results mean her lead goes up to 5 Areas.

18:18, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 13 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,1.  Cheetah chasey: Coordination(4) + Athletics(4).
18:18, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 10 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 1,1.  Cheetah chasey: Coordination(4) + Athletics(4).

Hearing the crash behind her, Smoke Alarm firmly resisted the urge to laugh at their misfortune; it would only show-and-tell where she was. Exiting the alley, footing onto the street, she focused on extending her lead, and on finding and catching up with Stanley.


OOC: Extend my lead and lose them, if I can: 13
10:08, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 13 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 1,3.  coordination(5) + athletics(4).

"And I need to find my people. Lets make a deal - help me find them and make them safe, and I help you get non-sapient food. I'm not a cannibal. My people must be found and delivered to safety. After that I'll be happy to talk to your Elders.Deal?"

She glances nervously at her I pad and the icons for Stan and Smoke.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:41, Sun 19 June 2016.

Trav gets out her phone. "Smoke, Stan! Talk to me. What's going on?"

Smoke Alarm is now far enough out ahead of her pursuers that she's able to break sight lines with them with relative ease.  A few zigs and zags through the streets, plus some judicious drops out of all-speed footing to keep them from tracing her by sound, and she becomes reasonably confident that they have lost the trail and are heading off in a different direction.

Checking her talkiphone, she finds that the tracer map sent by the Traveller is still sending, and it continues to show her position relative not just to where she supposes Trav is, but also to the second red dot that is Stanley.  It takes another dozen minutes or so, but the pair of them are able to successfully meet up again.

OOC: I forgot that your lead also changes just by speed differential, and their impairment was slowing them.  So she really should have on the verge of breaking contact last time.  And here, basic success is enough to get +1 Area over the Cheetahs.  Chase over.

22:41, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 12 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 2,2.  Cheetah chasing Smoke: Coordination(4) + Athletics(4).
22:41, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Cheetah Person, rolled 13 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,1.  Cheetah chasing smoke: Coordination(4) + Athletics(4)

"Stan, sweety? Find some cover and stay put. Stan? Stan? Shit!"

There's more noise and fracas over the phones. "How did you do that transmat trick anyway? Can we go out there and pick my people up?"

"Damn it! If I could just get to my TARDIS."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Sun 19 June 2016.

Cheetah People: nil. Blue Kangs: Awesome! Foot-loose and fancy-free, Smoke Alarm made her fire-escape, losing the Cheetah People and soon catching up with Stanley, whom she eyespied at the end of the street. She resisted calling out to him, afraid of more cats 'earring them. Instead, she footed quietly up behind him up, then at the last moment glomped him from behind in a great hug. 'Stanley!'


OOC: I imagine that could be taken the wrong way in the circumstances. :p
This message was last edited by the player at 06:45, Sun 19 June 2016.

It is possible to die of fright and for a moment Stanley felt like he was going to. Being busy talking to Trav he hadn't paid much attention to his surroundings and was sure that one of the Cheetahs had just pounced on him. Luckily for him, the lack of nails and teeth digging into his flesh and the attacker saying something that sounded like his name, made him realise that it wasn't a Cheetah but Smoke Alarm.

"Smoke, I am glad that you are safe and were able to find me, I really am, but..." Stanley takes a deep breath. "Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."

"Scaring people like that, in a location like this, with those stupid cheetahs sneaking around is a dangerous and stupid idea." He had dropped his phone in the commotion and is now picking it up. "I contacted Trav and asked her to use her friend's teleportation device to pick us up."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:36, Sun 19 June 2016.

In reply to The Traveller (msg # 181):

"I felt a pulling to come home, so I did." A shrug. "It's not about food for me, it's about food for my tribe. Only a few of us hunt; and we need to feed all in the Stronghold. That wolf was going to feed a few of us for a while."

"I'm the Traveller. I make monsters quake in fear and planets sing. I'll feed every single member of your tribe if you get my people and my ship here, I guarantee it."

She's speaking not only with the conviction of someone who thinks they can do it, but with the certainty of someone who -has- done these things in the past.

"Home." She says. "Can you bring -me- home?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:33, Sun 19 June 2016.

Smoke Alarm outlooked up at Stanley, wide-eyed and frowny-faced. A lip quivered. She felt unbrave and unbold as a Kang couldn't be for scaring her friend. 'I'm sorry! I forgot you weren't so brave and bold as a Kang.' she apologised plaintively, then tried to put a positive spin on it. 'At least mayhaps now you won't squeal when a cat does jump on you right?'

'Well, we should get to a hide-in, in the towers, away from outlook-cats.' she recommended. 'How good are you at jumping?'

"Yeah, you are definitely more scary than those cheetahs." Stanley sighs. She isn't wrong that he isn't as brave as a Kang, so he isn't insulted. "Let's do our best to prevent anyone else from sneaking up on me. On my way here I did see a couple of those weird cats, so I don't think we are safe here."



"Jumping? I don't think I can jump as far or as high as you." Stanley is genuinely surprised at Smoke asking him about his jumping skills. "Hiding inside one of these buildings is a good idea. It is exactly what Trav suggested, but why would we need to jump? These buildings have been abandoned for quite some time, I am not sure the roofs are still safe to walk on."

'Well,' Smoke began, knowing Stanley wouldn't like this either. 'We mayhaps would have to jump up or down the towers or from one to another, to escape the pussy-cat-people, if they comeout for us.' she suggested.

'Anyhow, let's foot it, all speed. 'Ware cats and cleaners. This way... No, that way.' Smoke Alarm veered first one way then the other, leading Stanley into the shelter of one likely building, keeping her keen eyes out for furry danger.

With perhaps a bit more appreciation for the dangers of Kestartes City, Smoke Alarm and Stanley make their careful way across twenty city blocks to the location where their phones are indicating that Trav is now located.  On the way, they see a solitary cheetah making its way down a cross-street, apparently on the prowl for food.  But Smoke Alarm is able to pull Stanley quietly out of the street to a hiding spot where they are able to simply wait until it goes out of sight.

When they find Trav, she's sitting and talking with the woman that they'd seen before, just before the point when the two blipped away.  Smoke Alarm may be a bit disconcerted to note that the young woman is sitting next to the body of the cheetah they'd seen her fighting.  Part of the creature is skinned and carved away, and the clear implication is that the woman has eaten some of a being that they had, after all, been talking to only about an hour before.

As soon as she eyespied Traveller, Smoke Alarm broke away from Stanley and footed swiftly to her, glomping her in another great hug, show-and-telling that she'd learned from the last time. 'Trav! It's me, Smoke Alarm, not a cat-person, so don't be a scaredy-cat. We cameout outlooking for you, but you were lost and not found and a strange visitor show-and-telled us to search-and-rescue you, coz you're in a real-bad safety hazard, and she show-and-telled us to 'ware the kitacats and do what Sereth would do, but also make no to-dos – no ball-games, no flyposts, no wipeouts – and then we met some cat-people, but they were rezzies who wanted to eat us, so Stanley made a ground-scrawl to confuzzle them and then someone else started a to-do and we fire-escaped and cameout back to you but you disappeared with a whoosh into a flash, and after you called us two more cat-people hunted us, so we played chasey and I dropped them in a truck, and we fire-escaped again, then we used the blipper on the talkiphone to follow-the-leader to you here, and I glomped you and show-and-telled you what happened just then.' Deep breath now.

Then she eyespied the cat-person, all cut-up like a dinner-cat with the red paint still fresh, and the other woman with the blood on her hands and mouth. Her eyes widened in a well-known horror. 'You're a Rezzie too! Greedy-guts! Hungry hippo! Purple people-eater!' she accused.

She -hissed- at Smoke Alarm.

"Is this how your friends treat everyone who rescues them?"

The words were strange to her, but the meaning was clear.

"He is a Hunter. Not human. Not a -person-."

Her own eyes, right now, clearly cat-like.

It is quite obvious that the cheetah on the ground is dead. Despite not having to worry about being chased by cheetahs here, Stanley doesn't feel safe just yet. The corpse has been skinned and there are pieces of meat missing. With the warning from the mysterious figure in mind, that is cause for concern.

"You are right. We should thank you for saving us back there. Thank you." Stanley thanks the stranger, but he hasn't come any closer. He is standing a small distance away from Trav and the stranger. "Smoke Alarm might have overreacted a bit, but I would really like to know why you did that to the corpse? Is this a ritual or something? "

He turns to Trav. "Did..er...did you eat this?"

"I was hungry. I'd left behind a perfectly fine spine-wolf, because your friend here needed to find you, and you were cornered by Hunters. The Hunter was already dead anyway, it wasn't as though I killed it just to eat; but it was already dead, and I needed food -now-."

Trav shoots up and hugs both Stanley and Smoke.

"Oh, thank goodness you two are both safe! I was about to sonic away part of a wall here and come after you two!"

She holds them both for dear life, for several moments.

Trav is hopping up and down as Smoke gives her excited story smiling like Christmas. "Blue Kangs are best! You and Stan were awesome! I'm so sorry, I should have waited for the two of you before outgoing."

Then she turns to Kalath. "Thank you for saving me from the Cheetah people."

She sighs as she looks down at the cheetah corpse. "As to whether or not that was a -person-"... "I'm not from around here. I don't know. I can't make judgements. Also, Smoke, didn't you and the Doctor work with the Rezzies against the Great Architech to save Paradise Towers?"

Trav does squat down. She sonics the dead cheetah, and scans around. She wants to know how that whole transmat thing works. It's obviously not mechanical, so it has to be biological. It probably has something to do with how the local space-time is so perforated around here.

"Hey Stan, want to take a cheetah sample? For science. Miss Kalath mentions how the Kitlings... the small cat like creatures, yes? Make people their slaves, if I got that right. I don't like the sounds of that. Seems like the Cheetahs and the Kitlings are the enemy and the problem."

"Miss Kalath. We actually came here for a reason. I'd be grateful if we could see your elders now."

OOC: Ingenuity+Science+Sonic - once over on Cheetah corpse and Kalath.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:34, Thu 23 June 2016.

A nod, and she approached the stronghold. She wasn't truly aware of anything, though now she'd had her fill, and with no danger, she might be coming back to herself....

As the other girl hissed at her, like an angry pussy-cat, Smoke Alarm thrust her head forward and poked out her tongue in rude defiance. Evidently they were far too alike in some respects. She eyespied the eater-girl's tummy meaningfully. 'Mayhaps you could've waited for dinner time? Have you ever been really hungry?'

She backed off when Traveller talked. 'Only after Tilda and Tabby and Stabby Abby had been taken by Cleaners. The ones still alive weren't so full of Kangs.' She continued to eye the greedy-guts-girl warily. There didn't seem much difference between her and the cat-people in this place.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:55, Fri 24 June 2016.

OOC:  I think you can consider yourself to have come off the Cheetah high and have your eyes go normal.  Recall that this is unlikely to be well received by the inhabitants of the Stronghold if they find out about it.

There is definitely a lingering aura of dimensional instability about the Cheetah and Kalath both -- moreso the former than the latter.  But it's not as though either one are ready to blip off in any imminent fashion.  The odd part about it is that the unstable field, for want of any better term, doesn't exactly stop around each individual -- it's more of a gradient that tapers off between the two bodies, and actually extends everywhere around the small group.

There doesn't seem to be anything near the latent power source to drive that kind of transport, though.  To Trav this suggests that it is more of an ambient effect permeating or clinging to the planet Kestartes Delta itself.

Trav mutters to herself, "it's not just the cheetahs, or even her, it's this place." She keys in some code to her I pad as they walk, and sets the much more sophisticated sensors of her timeship to begin analyzing how Kestartes Delta sits in in the universe. The place reminded her of some living planets or places she had visited her. It made her feel uneasy.

"Yeah, I'll quickly grab a sample." Stanley puts on a rubber glove and squats down by the corpse. A moment later he gets up with a small plastic specimen container in his hand. Inside is a small sample of the dead Cheetah's flesh.

"Those Kitlings appeared to be following...or rather stalking me when I was running away from the Cheetahs. They never attacked me, but I had the feeling I couldn't just shake them off." Stanley remarks to Trav as they make their way to where the 'elders' are.

Trav remotely signals the TARDIS to check on the ambient dimensional distortion.

She is expecting that she'll be able to simply take further readings to better puzzle out the nature of this place, and perhaps it will answer back with a message from a cutesy animated avatar.  What she does not expect is for the TARDIS to start scanning, and then hesitate.  Pondering.  Remembering the seemingly endless span in which it, too, fought the Time War at the behest of the Marshall.  Her uplink shows her that the TARDIS has -- briefly -- put aside her own command and started scanning up and down the local part of the continuum, both nearby space and into the near reaches of the Vortex.

It's looking for something.  Trav realizes with a horrifying feeling that it's looking for Daleks.

Something to fight.

Something to hunt.

And after the space of perhaps thirty seconds, with the engines revving up in preparation to hurl itself off without her, the TARDIS settles down, and throttles back on its own chosen scan parameters.  Apparently, it did not find any suitable prey while it was struggling with its own nature.

What it finally reports to Trav confirms that the planet is not only riddled with thousands on thousands of dimensional warps, but it's enveloped by a widespread network of psychic connection -- a network that, though more of a diffuse gestalt than a true united entity, nevertheless nearly snared the TARDIS itself and set loose its own integral directives and drives.

OOC:

21:50, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC The TARDIS, rolled 19 using 2d6+11 with rolls of 4,4.  Ingenuity(4) + Resolve(4) + Psychic(4).
21:50, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC The TARDIS, rolled 15 using 2d6+11 with rolls of 1,3.  Awareness(3) + Resolve(4) + Psychic(4).

Trav stops and goes pale. Sweet boy never directly fought in the Time War. The bloodied hands of the Marshall never touched his controls - that's the one promise she held to. The old Time Machine never hunted Daleks.

For the entire duration of the conflict, the old Time Machine collected dust in the Citadel - the Marshall and her Exigents used their infamous, highly advanced Time Rings to hunt down the Daleks and the agents of Davros. It was probably drawing on her old rage and memories when she hunted Daleks with ruthless skill across time and space during the war, with just her Time Ring and her Rod. She feeds back to it the old, sad face of the War Doctor, the suffering, the dying.

She immediately engages emergency operation termination protocols. Three large busses immediately shoot out from under under the main control column - three large fuse like things that viewers of the show may remember Trav pulling out two seasons ago when Warlock was rummaging around inside of it. The TARDIS is not taking off anywhere until they get back and she reinstalls the busses, nor will any alien psychic infestation penetrate any deeper into her beloved time machine. She also orders activation of Time War level info war data defense protocols.

She engages the time machine to low power mode, and immediately starts it on a full systems hueristic check to maintain it's own chronal and psychic integrity, matching it against past versions, especially those from before the war.

"Stanley. Smoke. This entire region of space time is hungry. It almost infected Sweet Boy. I shut him down to low power mode, he's running diagnostics. I'm especially vulnerable here - it's like time and space here is a hungry thing. I...I want you to call me... Louise."  Louise, who believed in God, who gave birth to children, who has a family. Who knew sadness and loss, who was human. Yes. That aching sadness was the polar opposite of selfish hunger. "We have to hurry. We won't be here long."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:43, Fri 24 June 2016.

'Hungry! Like Great Artchitect Kroagnon in the Basement!' Smoke Alarm exclaimed in horror. 'That's what I show-and-telled you! What the White visitor show-and-telled us: we have to rememorise who you are and follow the Kang way. To follow the Kang way is the only way, else we become unKang and won't be Kangs no more. No ball-games, no flyposts, no wipeouts.'

"Memories. Memories. A Time Lord is their Memories, the Doctor once told me. When he fought Borusa, in the Death Zone." Here, her voice drops an octave. The old voice of the Marshall bubbles up, but not as a hostile one, but moreso the weary, sad veteran of that impossible war. It's the blonde's vocal cords but the old general's cadence. Not so much the grandiose villian who faced the 6th and 7th Doctor but the old woman who sternly ordered the extermination of time lines and cried at her desk after issuing orders to the last living Krayloss soldiers.

"This space and time is like a diseased cyst. It's smell is like blood on the trail, in a jungle." As they are lead by Kalath, she breathes deep. "There comes a time that you've hunted so much that you become sick of blood. It becomes clotted and filthy in your mouth. It becomes boring. The thrill is gone and becomes simply a job. The screams of a dying Dalek become grating, like nails on a chalkboard, and you simply want it to end, to sleep."

Behind the eyes of the eyes of the Traveller is perhaps something more frightening than the red that was in Kalath's eyes - the old, cold impulse to conquer, the same brilliance that devised the plan that brought down the Time Lords themselves and imprisoned them and the Daleks behind the Time Lock. Careful, careful, please  be careful, the other sides of her tell her. Remember the Gelph and their singing. Remember Arcadia.

In clipped language, she continues: "Back when I spoke like New England gentry I devised a weapon against the Cybermen, who sought escape from all passion - the individuation virus. It was software I loaded into my pistol rounds. This localized space time that turns people into blood hungry cat monsters may work upon a similar principle - eliminiating individuality in favor of predatory bloodlust. Not terribly different from a mechanical desire to upgrade and join into a cybernetic network. This can be the thwarted. The vectors, mechanics, are considerably different, but the principle of cognitive assimilation is the same."

"My beloved comrades, you may be hearing me talk as my other personalities. This is my defense against this place. I apologize for discomfiting you as I devise a solution. I am defending myself with... rememorization." Trav smiles, thinly and perhaps chillingly.

"The 'White Visitor'? Who is that?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:22, Fri 24 June 2016.

Stanley frowns, he considers not saying anything, but the White Visitor's warning had been pretty specific. She is doing what she thinks is best,but... "Sorry, but I am not going to call you 'Louise'. The White Visitor specifically told us that YOU are in danger. Not Louise, not The Marshall, not the person you used to be. This planet is trying to change you and I don't think that using a different name and bringing back old personalities is a smart thing to do. Defend yourself by being The Traveller."

"Of course, that is easy for me to say. I don't think I have been infected by this thing. Not yet at least." He pauses. "I mean if you can, you should try to stay the Traveller. The way you just talked...that didn't sound like the Trav I know."

"About that White Visitor, I have no clue about who or what she is." Stanley confesses. "Not a human and she didn't seem to come from this planet. We met her shortly after leaving the TARDIS and she warned us about this place. I don't know her motives, but from what we have seen so far, she wasn't lying."
This message was last updated by the player at 23:31, Fri 24 June 2016.

As Traveller started talking and smiling funny, and not in a ha-ha kind of way, Smoke Alarm felt worried and unbold for her friend. It was like every time something was bad, Trav wanted to cosplay as someone else but herself. Smoke agreed with Stanley, putting a hand on Traveller's arm. 'Who you are is you who are now.' she said wisely but not all together clearly. 'Just be the Traveller, please... Or a Kang, that works too.' she tried to joke.

'And she had one mouth but lots of voices, and one of them talked Kang-speak at me. She was unold and unyoung and inbetween all at the same time. Like she couldn't decide what she wanted to be either.'

Trav's expression changed again. Her eyes gained years, crows feet, maybe, and she almost looked like she gained a few pounds. She took Smoke Alarm's hands.

"Detectora de Icendios, mi Azura Hermana, mi brillante chica, tu necessitas comprende-" she stops herself. "Smoke Alarm. You need to understand, who I am is who I was and who I will be." She talks like she's an older woman, in her 50s, maybe 60s."This place is assaulting me up and down of all who I am. I need to fight it with my past and maybe my future. I can't fight it with just my present, not just the blond part of me. It... it wants to overwhelm me with this hunger and bloodlust, and unlike you, mis familia, mis compañeros, I can feel time and space. I'm more vulnerable than you are. I can literally feel the space all around us like you can feel an object with your fingers, it's how I'm built. So, please, understand, por favor?"

She looks past Smoke Alarm to Stanley. "Mister Stanley Newton." Her back straightens again, but her eyes are clear and sharp, unlike you've ever seen her before. "You of all people, who have traveled with me for so long, should know that, except for that terrible period of time when I laid down one name and took up another, I have been and always will be the Traveller. We're all fighting in here, past, present, and future. I'm not going to be intimidated by some predatory pocket of space time. It shouldn't be scared of me because I was the Marshall - that was a teenaged tantrum. It should be scared of me because I have been, and always will be, The Traveller. The Marshall was a made up name, anyway. Now, come on. We have some elders to see, and there's always time to travel." The voice is a contraltro, different from the Marshall, and full of a sharp and different confidence, but smokier and more commanding that your familiar blond.

Trav is holding Smoke Alarm's hand, walking like she's maybe 3 inches taller than the slight blond, although she hasn't grown an inch. "Oh, Smoke Alarm. I've decided to be all of me. Didn't you tell me to be the best me I could possibly be?"
This message was last edited by the player at 05:43, Wed 29 June 2016.

Great, she was talking funny again. How was anyone to knowhow she was show-and-telling? Smoke Alarm sighed. 'Let's just be ourselves and stay as ourselves. Whoever they are.' Smoke agreed. 'And rememorise: no ball-games, no flyposts, no wipeouts. And let's foot on with it.' Finding Traveller holding her hand, Smoke Alarm moved forward, pulling her along.

'And why're we here? If it's so bad here, can't we just track back to the talkiphone box and leave?'

She gave Smoke a strange look, then led her way into the Stronghold.

"Why do you talk so strange? What do you mean no ball-games, no flyposts, no wipeouts?"

Her eyes had reverted to normal, and she'd cleaned herself off so she was dripping the blood of her meal; but it was hard to forget what she had been.

Smoke Alarm shrugged. 'I dunno, she just talks funny sometimes.' She meant Traveller, of course.

'It means... No ball games. No fly-posts. No wipeouts.' she repeated, slowly and loudly, as if that could show-and-tell her words more clearly. She elaborated on the last one, since it was the most important. In fact, the last one was only ever the important one, the bits about ball-games and fly-posts being there mostly for emphasis, not that Kangs ever did them anyhow. 'No making people unalive. So no to-dos. Simples.'
This message was last edited by the player at 05:53, Thu 30 June 2016.

"If you say so, Trav." Stanley is not going to insist. The switching of personalities seems to happen a bit too fast for his liking, but if that is how Trav thinks she can resist this influence, then that is what she should do. To him it seems that all that changing is going to give this thing more opportunities to take over. Nevertheless, it seems to be working for now, but he is going to keep a close eye on her.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:36, Wed 29 June 2016.

The three travelers follow Kalath up to a gate in the fencing around the building complex.

A lean woman a little older than Kalath and a man slightly older than that are standing guard over the entrance to the building.  They're dressed and equipped in a very similar way to Kalath, a mix of salvage, rough leathers and furs, and Smoke Alarm is fascinated to note that they're carrying for-real arrowguns.  After a brief hesitation, the woman moves forward to unfasten a complicated mechanical latch, while the man levels the crossbow -- not at Trav and Stanley and Smoke, exactly, moreso at spots around and across the street behind them.

(Kalath knows that another pair of snipers are covering the gate from hardened nests on the third floor.  It is really not possible to be too careful.)

(The woman -- Pel -- can't keep her eyes off the visitors Kalath has brought.  "Kal, where are they from?" she asks in a half whisper.)

The group is passed through the gate and, after it is relatched, the door into the building.  No one misses that the latter is reinforced with salvaged rebar.

The interior of the building is a study in contrasts.  To Stanley it looks like early 20th century construction, sturdy brickwork, and shows signs of ongoing repair.  But it's also a place where people have made an effort to make into a home: there are colorful (if faded) murals over many of the walls and there is plainly effort put into keeping it tidy.  Smoke Alarm is struck by how much is both like and unlike Paradise Towers -- there are many elements to it that are functional, yet improvised from random salvage.

As Kalath leads them in, a tiny boy who barely comes up to her waist goggles at the newcomers.  "Strangers," he breathes, and scampers off ahead of them.  (Kalath knows this is Yevgy -- orphaned when his mother disappeared on a gleaning expedition.)

Yevgy beats them to the inner checkpoint, where there is another gate of iron secured against intruders, watched over by a big, solidly built man who's wearing what Trav and Stanley both place as light riot armor -- he's even got a transparent plastic shield and truncheon close to hand.  (Kalath recogbizes Chief Derwaal, not one of the Elders, confusingly, but head of the Stronghold's watch, and the person who taught her much of what she knows about fighting.)
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:13, Wed 06 July 2016.

Footing up to the compound, through the checking point, and into the main foyer, Smoke Alarm outlooked interestedly about. Much of what she eyespied she... (recognised? rememorised? re-eyespied!) re-eyespied from Paradise Towers, like how they used arrowguns and wallscrawled pretty pictures to hide the bleakness of their existence. She was learning some things she could mayhaps take back to Paradise Towers, and having ideas she could show-and-tell these people about urban survival. Yet this place left her feeling unbrave and unbold. Back in Paradise Towers, they only had to keep out wild cleaners and stray dogs, and dogs couldn't or wouldn't read the "No Dogs Allowed" signs. Here they had Cheetah People who were much cleverer than dogs. Back in Paradise Towers, they were taking back the streets and blocks, finding enough food to go around. Here they were losing ground, shrinking, hungry and going unalive. This seemed a place close to wipe-out, to being no more.

The murals and other small touches suggest that things are sort of stable here and that the people have found a way keep this place relatively safe from the Kitlings and Cheetahs. Stanley wonders exactly how long these have been living here. When did this evil influence show up? He can't imagine that it happened too long ago. There is a ruined city out there and there are still people living here.

"Miss Kalath? Do you remember when the Cheetahs first showed up?"

Trav idly scans the area, being quite nosy with the scanning. Checking herself, Stanley, Smoke, Kalath, their new hosts, the ground, the air, her own arm pits. "Hm. Hmmm. Hm." She's shaking her taped up sonic like it was a thermometer.

She smiles to the newly introduced Elders. "Oh, hi. I'm the Traveller. This is Alarma De Humo, er, Smoke Alarm, and that guy is Stanley. We're from far away. Someone is trying to erase the events of a long lost people so they never were, very uncool. We're trying to find a book. We hear you guys have quite the library here. From what we understand, you guys have a cat problem, and a food problem. Maybe we can help." The blonde is back, with her goofy smile, and she's rolling on the balls of her feet. She seems to have regained her balance somewhat, after that last personality wash.

OOC:Trav tries to be wacky and charming in a Matt Smith/David Tennant kinda way. Want a roll?
This message was last edited by the player at 04:31, Tue 05 July 2016.

Smoke Alarm footed up beside Traveller, outlooking warily about. So far, so good, and so much like home-sweet-home. But that was why she 'wared it. She rememorised how the Red Kangs had rolled up the welcome-mats for the first visitors to Paradise Towers since time start – with arrowguns and catchering for the Doctor and Mel. Could they get the same welcome-mat here? Tick-tocks repeated, the address was different, but the game the same: Kestartes City for Paradise Towers, the Traveller for the Doctor. Wait. Did that make Smoke Alarm the Mel? ...Anyhow, were these people this city's kangs, caretakers, or, she thought worriedly at how Kalath had eaten the cat-person, rezzies?

'Should we how-you-do?' Smoke Alarm asked Traveller, softly but audible to the people.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:57, Wed 06 July 2016.

Soft but audible back - "Don't know how they how-do-you-do here, so lets just smile and be friendly." She smiles at their hosts.

Derwaal approaches the Traveller.  The look he gives her suggests that she and the others are something far, far out of the ordinary, but he is not a person to be fazed by much.

"'M not one of the Elders, I'm afraid," he says.  "Expect that Kalath brought you here to talk to them, though, that right?"  He glances at Kalath.  "They're a fair bit scrawnier than your usual catch.  Let's just make sure of them...."

He picks up a small reflector lamp sitting on the desk, and turns a tiny valve on it.  There's a hissing noise and the lamp lights up.  The big man brings it close in to the faces of each of the new arrivals, peering carefully and closely into their eyes.  Whatever he sees, or doesn't see there, seems to satisfy him and he steps back.

Pointing to a table next to the gate with his truncheon, he says, "Knives, weapons, anything you've got on you, turn it out on the table.  You'll get them back if you're not staying."

As Traveller recommended, Smoke Alarm smiled and be-ed friendly. 'Hello!' she greeted with a wave.

But Smoke Alarm, who was a fair bit scrawnier than anyone, didn't like being called part of Kalath's catch. 'We came as visitors, we weren't catched.' she protested, before the man tried to shine a torch in her eyes like some kind of caretaker. She took a wary foot back, only submitting when Traveller or Stanley reassured her. Her dark eyes blinked and twitched under the harsh light, but show-and-telled the man nothing.

She also didn't surrender her arrowgun, because it was neither a knife nor a weapon in her mind, and she didn't even consider it.

Trav of course dumps her pistols and belt.

"Smoke, please. We're guests. We're in their brainquarters. Pretty please? They don't know us yet."

"Also, please, don't eat us. I've been told I don't taste good, anyway."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Wed 06 July 2016.

'Huh?' Smoke realised they meant her arrowgun. 'But it's not a weapon, it's an... extension of my finger.' she protested, feeling Sereth would understand.

But Traveller had asked nicely, with a pretty please even, and they weren't ingoing if she didn't. She could loiter outside, but letting Traveller and Stanley go alone was totally unKang. 'Oh, alright then.' Grudgingly, she put her arrowgun and quiver on the table, but not before she stole a screw to stop it working. 'But no touching! Eyespy, it says so on the side.' Indeed, Smoke Alarm's arrowgun. No tuching! was very explicit.

Stanley puts his doctor's bag on the table. He doesn't carry any weapons, but some stuff in there, like the scalpel and some combinations of pills, could theoretically be used to kill someone.

Derwaal seems spectacularly indifferent to Smoke Alarm's arrowgun, although Stanley and Trav and Kalath certainly discern some relief on his part that he's not going to need to strong-arm her.

Stanley's bag seems to baffle him, though, and after he glances at Stanley for permission, he opens it and takes a look inside.  He carefully closes it again without disturbing the contents, but he looks at Stanley with a bit of apprehension.  "Are you a sorcerer?" he asks.  Casting his gaze around to the visitors, he adds, "Are you all sorcerers?"

'I like red sauce...'

OOC: But blue sauce is best? :-P

"That depends on how you define sorcerer. Everything I do can be explained by science, so, no. I've met and know real magicians, however. How do you define the term? People who use and build machines? Who use technology? Who do unexplainable things?"

"Yes, please, don't touch my friend's arrowgun. It says, 'no tuching'. she's trusting you."

"No, I wouldn't call myself a sorcerer." Stanley replies to the guard. "Just a normal human."

At last, Derwaal unlocks the gate and motions everyone.  He meets Kalath's eyes as she passes, saying without speaking that she should keep an eye on the newcomers, despite the precautions taken so far.

Beyond, the furnishings and the decor are a little more homey, but only so much.  It remains clear that this is the dwelling of a group of people who are effectively besieged by the world around them.

Kalath leads the others ahead a short way to an open stairwell, them up three flights to a landing with several doors leading off of it.  She opens a double set of them onto what looks like it might once have been a small communal meeting area, but seems like, over time, it has accumulated the trappings of the little community's leadership.  A few half-populated bookshelves stand along the walls; there's a pull-down projector screen that has been repurposed into what looks like a carefully enlarged map, there is a flagstaff that supports a few unfamiliar banners.

Arranged in a loose semicircle facing the doorway are a trio of battered-looking desks, and behind each one sits, apparently, one of the Elders of the Stronghold, each in a shabby high-backed chair.  Kalath introduces each in turn:

On the right, she names Parnesco, the Elder for Resource.  He's a thin-faced man with hair gone wholly white, but his eyes are sharp and keen.

On the left, she names Alharin, the Elder for Knowledge.  She's silver-haired and her skin sags and crinkles; there's an air of melancholy that hangs about her.

And in the center sits Casimir, the Elder for Planning.  He seems to be the youngest of the three; his face is marred by an old claw-slash and he wears a patch over one eye, and he wears a sort of mechanical clamp fitted over the stump of his left arm.

"Chief Derwaal sent word ahead of strangers," Casimir says.  "His description did not do you justice.  What account do you make for yourself?  Why have you come?"

Smoke Alarm footed after Stanley and Traveller, outlooking about, kicking her heels and shy. She was feeling uncomfy being so far away from her arrowgun, after just getting it back on Draconia, and feeling unbold and wary to be in another gang's brainquarters. This was a no-to-do place, they weren't part of the Kang game of invading each other's brainquarters. 'Sides, they could try to eat her. She was outlooking for exits and fire escapes. She pulled out Puddy and hugged him tight; this place naturally had her thinking of cats. 'Sides, Puddy had her spare escaping tools.

She stood beside her friends, and let them handle the how-you-dos for this place.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:00, Wed 13 July 2016.

"A pleasure to meet you. I'm called The Traveller. This is Smoke Alarm, and this is Doctor Stanley Newton. I'm from Gallifrey, Smoke Alarm is from Paradise Towers, and Stanley is from a place called Earth. Thank you for welcoming us into your home, and for your scout here for safely guiding us in." She gestures to Kalath.

"We're from far away. We've come because someone is destroying the past of a grand and illustrious people - a race of poets. We hear you have quite the library. We're seeking a book called Racallan's Apocrypha. You see, someone is making the past of Racallan's people disappear. I walk across time and space and memory, and making someone's past and choices disappear, even if they're gone, is as bad as murder, in some cases worse." Travs eyes are sad at that mention, even as she speaks diplomatically.

"So, sirs and madams, we also understand you have a food and a cat problem. We don't seek to remove the volume - we just want to see it, maybe copy it. We have a matching volume that's part of the series that maybe we can help to complete your archives as well. Maybe we can help each other?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Wed 13 July 2016.

The Elders, as one, look alarmed at Trav's mention of a cat problem.  Parnesco looks to Casimir.  "The Chief didn't mention anything, did he?  There should have been a call to quarters if an attack was under way...."

Casimir seems to be the first of the Elders for whom the penny drops.  "I think she does not mean a current attack," he says.  "I think she means the fact that we live as we live, in a place where we always must guard against the Hunters and we must always be wary of the Call.  You do not have Hunters, then, in this Earth you come from?  We have always known them, in the memory of those now living, and in the tales of those now gone who raised us."

Alharin nods.  "Yes.  There were times before the Hunters first came; this is known.  But we have not known a life without them.  A 'problem' speaks to a solution, but there is none.  All we can do is survive."

She frowns and rises carefully from her chair to walk to and fro among the shelves.  When she turns back, she says, "I'm afraid that I do not know this 'Racallan's Apocrypha' you are looking for.  Here we have only what we have been able to keep and pass down, to make sure that knowledge of the old time and ways of doing things are not lost.  So far as we are able."
This message was last updated by the GM at 22:17, Wed 13 July 2016.

"I don't mean to question you ways of living, which have no doubt served you in good stead. But for the vast majority of the world, there are no Hunters and no 'Call', as you put it. I know that may be hard to believe, but I may be able to work a way to get you off this planet. No one should have to live like this, always afraid. I used to, once - on a world that had shimmering blue walls of light, where we worried night and day that horrors would walk out of tears in space from different worlds. We too lived in the ruins of a time before. The space here is ill for lack of a better term, with hunger." She shakes her head. It presses in on her.

She listens gravely and carefully to their explanations. "Maybe you have a collection of artifacts or books that you keep? Or... do you transmit you lore orally? Via poetry, or song?"

Raising a hand, Smoke Alarm spoke up and offered 'Mayhaps I can help with the food problem. I'm an icehot hunter, with my arrowgun. I can catch you a dog or a cat or some rats – but not a person, not even a people-eater.' she stressed, eyespying Kalath warily. 'I could replace the spiny-woof you lost.'
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:13, Thu 14 July 2016.

Trav gets the sense that she's losing these people in her explanations.  Parnesco, for instance, protests, "But we have had travelers come from distant countries, before, and they were looking for answers because they were overrun by Hunters...."  The notion of leaving the planet seems hard for them to grasp.

When questioned about other ways that the people of the Stronghold pass down lore, Alharin shakes her head.  "We do keep some things alive in these ways, though we also keep the Journal of the people.  But I have never heard this name 'Racallan' before.  May I ask, what leads you to believe that we have these records you are looking for?  Perhaps this is knowledge that is lost to us as well...?"

"That is as it should be," Casimir says.  "Sometimes, we have to fight to survive the Hunters, but it is always dangerous in more ways than one.  Better to not be caught by them at all.  Still -- I would not insist that you take that risk; Kalath did not do wrong by choosing the safety of travelers over one day's meat.  We will adjust and make do."

Parnesco frowns at that assessment, but bows his head and says nothing.

"The name might not be familiar, but what about the contents of the book?" Stanley speaks up. When they visited River in that prison, she had read part of the book aloud. "It is about an explorer who survived a large battle. He can't get home easily, his ship is damaged and his surroundings are dangerous, but eventually he finds a place where an old guy lives. The old guy never tells his name, but he has all sorts of old books from long ago."

"Does this sound like a story you know?"

She rolled her eyes. Lucky she'd found them - they would have been eaten alive. Or in the case of two of them, become Hunters themselves.

"We don't have time for bedtime stories here. Every day, we survive. That's all we do. A few of us hunt; and I brought you in because you would have been destroyed out there."

She shook her head.

"I will go out again. I found one wolf, I can find more."

At this, Alharin's brow furrows, and she starts pacing along the shelves again, tracing along the spines with a forefinger as if trying to conjure something up.  She's shaking her head, muttering.  "No... not like a story... but that does remind me... old stories... old books from long ago."

She pulls out a volume and brings it over to Stanley.  The book is bound in well-worn leather, but as she opens it and shows him the contents, he can see that it consists of once-glossy faded pages, rebound within the tooled hide, with washed-out color photographs and capsule descriptions of locations.  It's clearly an old guidebook for Kestartes City, originally published before whatever events triggered the rise of the cheetahs and the crash of civilization.

"Here," she says.  "If there was a place where such an old book as you're searching for might have ended up, it might have been here."

The photo is of a large building with neoclassical ornamentation, nestling amid well-groomed trees and lawns.  The caption says KESTARTES CITY MUNICIPAL LIBRARY REPOSITORY AND RESOURCE CENTER : UNION PARK.

The reaction to this from the other two Elders is notable.  Parnesco is shaking his head and scowling, like this is the resumption of an old argument.  Casimir is less negative, but he plainly recognizes Alharin's tack as well.

"I have often hoped that we could make an expedition there," Alharin explains, glancing warily at the other Elders.  "I think there may be much old knowledge to be recovered there still.  But... the risk has always been thought too great.  To spend resources on."

This last is accompanied by a dark look at Parnesco.

Smoke Alarm hesitated, loitering uncertainly, not wanting to get too busy-bee with this stranger gang. But she figured helping them would help Traveller get her book, and there wasn't much other way she could use her helping hand (it was the right). More, if these people were tummy-grumbly hungry enough for Kalath to eat a cat-person, and eat it raw, then things had to be really bad. And Smoke Alarm knew what it was like to be really tummy-grumbly hungry, though she'd never eaten a person, so as far as she knew. How long until they wanted to eat Traveller? She'd still be talking about the universe from inside the oven.

'Well, if you can find a woof, I can find a woof.' Smoke decided, confidently and innocently after Kalath spoke. 'I still think I should go hunt for you.'

Stanley studies the photo, wondering how the place looks now. "I think we need to get to that library and hope the book is still there."

"Just to clarify: by 'risk' you mean the Hunters and the Kitlings?" Stanley asks Alharin. He isn't particularly looking forward to a long walk through the Cheetah infested city, but the library looks like the best place to find the book.  "You know...Our goal is to recover the journal and we are probably going to check that place no matter what. It shouldn't be too hard to bring back a couple of other books, but I don't know if we are planning on coming back here."

"That is what I meant, yes."

Alharin shows Stanley over to the map of the city that they have hanging up.  "This is what they used to call 'Union Park'," she says.  She indicates a oblong polygon shaded in light green, its boundaries defined by city streets.  Stanley can see that there's a small lake in  the middle of it, and several isolated sites marked out with the names of forgotten museums, as well as a large delineated section with the title Rekha Salsarris Zoological Park.  She points out the location of the library.

"We understand that this whole area was once a natural space maintained inside the old city... before so much of it was abandoned and taken back by the wild.  Now it has become a natural home for the Hunters.  They roam through the buildings out here as well, of course, but here there are other animals still living, we think, food for the Hunters when they do not venture out."

Over the area in general, in block capitals much greater than the old location names, are the words:

THE INNER WILD

"Hmmm. That is bad." Stanley frowns. "That means there is very little chance we won't have a confrontation with the Hunters. If they keep their food there, they won't just let us trespass."

Trav gets a scowl on her face as she is shown the photo.

"These kitlings need to learn sadness at the pain they've caused, making a people forget their history for their own selfish yowling. They'll be filled with sadness so vast that their hunger will be sated." Another strange change in pitch.

"But I gotta figure out what makes this space hungry. What makes this space sick."

"Elder, no need for you to spend your resources on us. We're grateful to you for your hospitality."

She sits down, scowling, her face now dour and, for lack of a better term, ancient looking. What catastrophe could have befallen such a world to make the very space and time hungry for blood? It's almost as if this small population were allowed to survive so that whatever was here could hunt.

Stanley is standing in front of the map trying to think of something that would make the trip to the library less dangerous. Trav and Smoke would probably be able to take out quite a number of the Hunters, but the Kitlings might pose more of a problem. Not to mention the fact that in this place violence would only make things worse. Trav mentioning that she wants to find the cause of this reminds him of the mysterious woman's warning. It is difficult to say for certain, but she looks 'normal', so he goes back to looking at the map.

"Maybe under?" Stanley mumbles to himself as he gets an idea. He starts to search the map for something. The right symbol or name. "Elder Alharin, are there sewers or tunnels under this city? Maybe tunnels from an old underground transport system? We probably won't encounter any Hunters underground or at least less than if we just walked through the streets."

'Could be rats.' Smoke suggested brightly, coming up behind Stanley and slapping him on the back. 'But good idea, smarty-pants! Also mayhaps there are utility carrydoors or cable ducks or steam tunnels or air vents...' Kangs knew cities and towers, inside and out. Smoke Alarm eyespied the map, turning an instinct for architecture to the problem.


OOC: Can Smoke find a route?
09:55, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 17 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 5,3.  Awareness(4) + Ingenuity(3) + Sense of Direction(2).

OOC: It is a good idea.  It's not super likely that the Elders or their map is going to have hard information on where an access point to a suitable route is, but based on that result I do think Kalath would be able to lead you to one, given an explanation of the sort of maintenance passage that seems like it would be most useful.

"Remember, friends, we're not here to fight the cat people, we're not here to fight anything. We defy the kitlings and their rules. We win without fighting. We bypass and override cheaty rules of the cowardly hunt. We're here to change the game, like we did with Warlock on Arsuran Prime."

She runs her sonic up and down Kalath again. "You are trusted to go beyond the city and hunt for your people. You are somehow special. Tell me about these kitlings, how they enslave your people, how the threat works."

Trav finds herself feeling and talking kind of weird and that's OK. "How comfortable are you with things being the way they are? What if I were here to tell you that we might be the harbingers that change everything? The Kitlings and cat people are your jailers. Would you be willing to change your way of life, young lady, if that meant getting rid of them?"

Trav felt big. There was danger in this. Bigger than the Kitlings. Bigger than the cats. The same kind of big when she made her decisions in the Time War.

Gentle. Easy. Will these people be able to withstand your clash with this hungry space, oh fist of the oncoming storm?

She must be saying that to herself. Who else would?
This message was last edited by the player at 01:35, Tue 19 July 2016.

The looks that Trav gets from the Elders as she waits for Kalath's response are... disheartening.  They're clearly people who have dug in to fight the long defeat, and so grimly tied to guarding their tiny island of safety that they've lost the ability to imagine things might be any different.

From behind the travelers, there's a discreet cough.

Standing there is a man, maybe in his early twenties, outfitted much like the other survivors of the encampment, but managing somehow to seem even thinner and wearier.  "I'm sorry to bother you," he says, looking at Casimir.  "It's Rozha....  Healer Senn says, there is nothing more she can do for her.  Not unless the council will release the next allotment."  He shakes his head.  "She said I could come and ask."  He glances anxiously at the travelers for a moment, then looks back at Casimir.

Parnesco looks down at a ledger in front of him, muttering under his breath.  "Senn should know better."

Alharin goes slowly to the newcomer and takes his arm.  "You know how careful we have to be, Jevon," she says.  "We... Look, I will come and sit with you, until it's over."

Kalath just looks at the Traveller confused.

"You can't just change reality. And to give these people hope for a life that cannot exist, is quite cruel."

She grabs up her spear and bow.

"Maybe I should escort them to the area of the books; so she does not give the others false hope."

"Healer? I am a healer myself." Stanley looks at Jevo, intrigued and worried by what he has heard. The condition of this Rozha does not sound good, but Stanley might be able to help. The people here have to scavenge for their medical supplies, while he just might have what the patient needs in his bag outside. Maybe...at least he should offer his help. "What is wrong with this Rozha? "
This message was last edited by the player at 22:37, Tue 02 Aug 2016.

Jevon stares at Stanley as if he's only just noticed that the three newcomers are in the room.

"She... she's got the deep cough.  Has for weeks.  First, it didn't seem to bad, just a cold, but it's got to where she couldn't hardly stop, if she tried to get up and around."  He blinks rapidly.  "Please... if you could come and look, if you could do anything, I'm sure Healer Senn wouldn't mind.  But it's got so bad now that, well.  There's only so much medicine to go around... but please, sir, if you would.  She's all I've got left now."

The Elders do seem at least to have the grace to look shamed that they've had to ration care like this, even Parnesco.

There wasn't much Smoke Alarm could do about finding an unseen in-way to the public library, not until she had some better artchitectural plans or engineery diagrams, or elsewise eyespied the buildings for herself. Mayhaps this gang had some other maps or pictures in their bookery? There was certainly nothing she could do the sick one; she didn't have First Aid Kit's or even Stanley's skill at the fixiting of people and their hurts, though she often wished she did.

'No-hoping is false.' she remarked to Kalath, ready to follow Traveller to the bookery to helping-hand her there.

"I don't know if I'll be able to help, but the least I can do is take a look." Stanley replies, already thinking about what diseases have severe coughing as one of their symptoms. He turns to the others. "This shouldn't take very long, I'll be right back."

Stanley follows Jevon, detouring long anough to pick up his medical bag.  The man leads him up another of the building's stairwells.  Jevon is subdued as he goes, although he keeps sneaking an occasional look at Stanley.

Eventually they arrive at an apartment that has had some rough remodeling applied to it, to shape it into a modest, subdivided infirmary.  Of the several beds, screened off by shabby curtains of various colors, there's only one that has an occupant: a little girl with pale hair and a paler complexion, who might be ten or so.  She seems to be sleeping, though her breathing is periodically interrupted by a little catch and cough.  Hanging up on the wall next to the bed is a crinkled poster, slightly faded with time but bearing the images of laughing children and a jaunty rainbow as backdrop.

As the two enter, the other occupant of the room looks up at them.  She's sitting by the little girl's bed, a woman who is probably not much out of her twenties, if that, but seems older than her years, with clear worry-lines in her features.  She looks at Stanley curiously.

On a small table next to her chair, Stanley can see an assortment of instruments like a thermometer and stethoscope, along with a glass of water and a smaller cup containing a milky solution.  There's also a small basin of water and a sealed glass bottle of clear liquid.

"Senn?" Jevon says.  "This is Stanley.  He's... he's new, and he says he's a healer as well.  Parnesco, well, he didn't want to break the ration...."  He glances at Stanley.  "Stanley says he would come and see if there was anything he could do for Rozha."

Senn stands.  "You're more than welcome, of course," she says.  "I'm afraid that I'm past the point of anything I can to try to clear up the infection.  By the time she told anyone she was having trouble, it was past anything I know how to deal with."

It is just a little girl... with all the talk about not providing medicine, Stanley had assumed Rohza to be one of the older survivors. Not a child. Are their supplies really that limited? Or is it just that the the disease has progressed too far?

Stanley looks at the collection of things on the table. It is true that diseases are his speciality, but he is very limited in what he can do here. He doesn't even have a fraction of the equipment and materials necessary to diagnose an unknown disease and manufacture a cure. Popping over to the TARDIS to get extra supplies or use the medical equipment is also out of the question with the Cheetahs out there. Apart from the lack of supplies, there is also the issue that the condition of this girl isn't getting better. Luckily, the people already found something that should work, however limited it is. He decides to talk to Healer Senn first, before examining Rohza.

"As Jevon said, I am new here. In fact, I am not from around here, so I would appreciate it if you could answer a couple of questions. I'll examine Rohza in a moment, but unless I learn more about this illnes, I am afraid I won't be able to do much except treat some of the symptoms." He speaks softly. "Is this disease common around here? Contagious? And the big question: is it viral or bacterial in nature?"

"You might not even have a way to find out, so it is okay." He pauses, knowing that the next topic might be a bit painful. "The medicine... what is it? Is it scavenged or is it produced? I might have something similar with me."

Stanley catches the uncertainty on Senn's expression when he runs the words viral and bacterial past her, so he suspects that however long these people have been eking out an existence like this, it's long enough for their collective medical knowledge to degrade considerably.

"The best that I've pieced it together, it was off something that the collectors brought back from one of their trips," Senn says.  "Something she got hold of, maybe that was dusted or living on some salvaged gear or goods.  Two of the adults came down with the same kind of a cough, but all they needed was rest and something to bring the inflammation down."  She indicates the cup with the white substance.  Stanley picks it up and sniffs it and is appalled to realize that it's nothing more than a strong solution of homemade aspirin, with maybe some herbal additives.  Which is better than nothing for the pneumonia-like symptoms he's seeing, but likely is doing little to fight off the actual infection.

"We have some stores of cures from the old time, antibiotics, but..."  She gives a small, tight frown.  "The Elder for Resource is very resistant to spending anything so precious on people who are not immediately vital to the Stronghold's survival.  That's not my opinion, you understand.  It's also not my decision."

"Hmm..." Stanley knows that he has some antibiotics in his bag. He'll first examine the patient and then decide what to do. He can't help but feel a bit sad that the people have to struggle so hard to survive and that they have lost so much of their medical knowledge. "I am pretty sure I wouldn't be able to change that Elder's mind, but I might be able to help little Rohza."

Stanley starts to examine Rohza, confirming whether or not the symptoms are consistent with a bacterial infection.

OOC: Unless the roll reveals something strange, Stanley intends to provide antibiotics:
23:11, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 20 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 6,4.  Examining illness Rohza: Ingenuity (4) + Medicine(4) + AoE: Disease (2).

Before he's done with his examination, Stanley is really missing having proper analytic equipment available to him, but then again, he has some experience with field diagnosis in out-of-the-way places back on twenty-first century Earth.  It seems likely to him that there is a bacterial infection in play here, and that it is advanced enough that it and the resulting symptoms are serious.  He can provide Senn with enough antibiotics and anti-inflammatories to run through a typical course of treatment.  Of course, only time will tell if Rozha would respond to it.

But that's for one little girl, of course.  Stanley wonders just how long this band of survivors has got if they are rationing their medical care to their members who are currently most productive, such that they have none to spare for the children who are quite literally their future.

OOC: As indicated, your roll was easily sufficient that you should be able to cure Rozha with Senn administering the treatment over time.

Having instructed Senn on how often she should give Rozha the antibiotics and what possible complication to look out for, Stanley decides to head back to the meeting area. This settlement desperately needs more medical supplies and knowledge. When they get to the library they should try to grab as many useful books as possible for these people.

Jevon clasps Stanley's hand in both of his.  "Ancestors watch you, sir, I can't thank you enough for this.  If there's anything I can do.  Anything!"

Senn is not so demonstrative as Jevon -- perhaps a little more reflective that the girl has a long fight ahead of her -- but she, too, takes Stanley's hand in relief and gratitude.  "Jevon, why don't you stay here and watch over Rozha for a bit?" she says.  "I'll escort Dr. Newton back to his friends."

When they're out of earshot, Senn confides, "I really do thank you, too.  It will be a joy if Rozha does recover.  But I think you probably saved Jevon, too.  He was so desperate to do anything for his little girl, he was nerving himself up to go off in search of the sorcerers for help.  And then we would have lost her and him too."  She gives a little smile.  "I suppose we're lucky that one came to call."

"Yeah, they are definitely lucky." Stanley replies. "Wait... did you just say 'sorcerers'? Who are they and why would they be able to help?"

Senn stops and stares at him.  "Seriously?  You've never heard the stories?"  She shakes her head.  "You must really be a stranger around here.  They... well in point of fact, no one really knows they exist who has told a truly convincing tale of them.  But there have always been tales handed down that some wise and powerful people, people with the knowledge of the Old Time, make their home somewhere out in the great city.  Some say they like in a spire made of glass, wreathed in eternal lightning.  Some say they dwell in a dark fortress, in the deepest part of the Inner Wild.

"All we really know is that sometimes, when someone becomes desperate enough over a problem we can't help them solve, they've set out in search of the sorcerers.  You may well imagine, most such are never heard from again.  But, a very few times, someone has come back with a miracle that healed their hurt or solved their crisis.  So the tales have lived on."

"Interesting... I wonder if they really exist." Stanley makes a mental note to tell Trav to scan for signs of those sorcerers. He thinks back to when Smoke and him were in the city, but he doesn't recall anything suspicious. Apart from one thing...

"Maybe that figure... are there any stories about a lady dressed in white out in the city?" Stanley asks Senn.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:56, Thu 11 Aug 2016.

All the meanwhile, Trav has been quietly scowling.

She couldn't help but think of all the children she's seen suffer.

She's getting that little crinkled up, pissed off look she got back with her second face.

She was going to get to the bottom of this hungry space, if it was the last thing she did.

The book can wait. Children were suffering.

"Stan, what do you need? I may have something in my bag."

OOC: Trav spend 1 SP, down to 4 - Resourceful Pockets. Trav has medicine or a tool that Stan needs.

Trav hands Stan her sonic. "Here, setting 292. It's what I use to perform medical and diagnostic scans, like what I used for Warlock. Let me dig in my bag and see what else I can find."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:10, Fri 12 Aug 2016.

Trav smiles at this, as she follows behind, quietly.

"See Stan? You're positively Dumbledore."

With Stanley outgone to the first-aid room and Traveller having a think, Smoke Alarm had been left to loiter and foot about the brainquarters. She had been left to own devices – specifically, her talkiphone, which vibberated to show-and-tell her there was a creature in the area...

'A pokémon!' Smoke exclaimed, eyespying the handset's picturespout and the cat-like creature in the vicinity. 'Ha, it's a meowth. Outlook, it's on your head!' she teased Kalath, angling the picture-taker to put it there. With a flick of her finger, she threw a pokéball at it. Travelling through all of time and space was a great way to build up her collection.


OOC: Honestly, it would explain a lot about Smoke's urban exploration habits.

Senn frowns.  "I can't say I've ever heard that one.  But it would not really surprise me either."

OOC: The obvious twist is that Smoke Alarm's phone starts showing her things that are actually there. :D

"I don't know about that, Trav." Stanley replies. "I wish we could do more for these people. Back in the meeting room you said something about changing things around here. It sounded a bit...ambitious, but if you are serious I think it might be worth it to look for those sorcerers in the jungle."

"I... I saw a lady in white. But she... vanished. She -lost- me. In the city. That just doesn't happen." She shook her head, the slight compassion she still had in her for strangers rearing up.

"If they insist on hunting down the Sorcerers, I should guide them. Take them the ways the Hunters will not be. To ensure they do not bring the Hunters down on -us-, if nothing else."

"I need you guys to hold my ambitions in check, Stan. When I saw Zor's Master Matrix, Jimi told me to be careful. My meddling with that computer was probably responsible for making this alien battleship open fire on the soldiers of the ship's despotic alien owners. Were the Robotech Masters bad guys who would have done really bad things if they got their hands on the SDF-1? Yeah, probably. Did my translating Tyrolian and moving that Earth ahead technologically by 3 centuries in 10 years save that instance of humanity? Probably. But 90% of that planet's population are dead. Minmay, an old companion of mine, told me it was Time Lord arrogance that I held myself responsible for the deaths of the Robotech wars... but the way Lisa scowled at me. Point is, lots of times... its more about me getting off on the challenge of solving the problem as opposed to really helping people." She looks guilty when she says this.

Trav sighs. "When I got to Macross Island, I thought it was going to be the Traveller roundly and properly chasing off some bounder 40 foot tall thugs. When I finally left the Robotech wars... it was a chubby girl in glasses who couldnt stop crying over billions dead."

"I didn't listen to Jimi. Help me listen to you, Stan."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:47, Tue 16 Aug 2016.

Trav smiles softly. Sweet Boy was *full* of Pokemon, Pokestops and Gyms, left by companions ever since Gooseberry installed the Niantic code on the public system all those centuries ago. It still seems like people are still catching Pokemon and having gym battles, although Trav just assumes that's Chibi's doing.

"So, so, so. Sorcerers in the jungle. If I were a sorcerer, where would I hide, from kitty cats?"

"Kalath. What do the Cat People and the Kitlings eat? The flesh of people? Their fear? Do they just love the chase?"

"The people here are tough, they are survivors." Stanley looks around and then lowers his voice. " But I don't think things can stay this way. Their supplies, especially their medical supplies, are really limited and I fear lots of practical knowledge has been lost already."

"Completely eradicating this Cheetah influence thing might be dangerous or turn into a disaster, but I think we should give it a shot, if we have a decent plan. At the very least we should try to get some useful books from the library and then try to make contact with the sorcerers. It sounds like they have access to better technology."



"Do you remember where you saw her?" Stanley asks. "She might work for or be one of the sorcerers."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:47, Tue 16 Aug 2016.

"Lady in white. Hm."

"If I can get back to Sweet Boy, I'm pretty sure I can find whoever uses technology here. If not, I may need to build something a bit stronger than my sonic, and parts seem scarce. I might have to cannibalize my guns."

Putting away her talkiphone and her pokémon, Smoke Alarm footed back and joined in. 'Down low, mayhaps underground.' she suggested. 'Pusscats like to go high, so's they can get an outlook... But I don't know about two-foot pusscats, they mayhaps can't jump and climb so good, coz they don't have enough feet.' she mused. 'If it was Kangs, we'd find hide-ins in the towers. There's lots of hide-ins and stuff to use in there. Saucerers need their sauce.'

Casimir nods gravely.

"That's well said, Kalath.  Be wary, as I know you always are... but if there is a chance of bringing back any knowledge from the Inner Wild, or even in making contact with these 'sorcerers' should they truly exist, the risk you take could pay greatly in security for the Stronghold."

He frowns, looking at Parnesco, but adds to Stanley, "There is little enough in the way of supplies or equipment we can offer to help you, but if you can think of something, please ask it and we will see what we can provide.  You've earned that from the help you have already given."

In reply to The Traveller (msg # 277):

"Of course I remember. I'm no fool." A frown though. "It seemed she wanted to talk to me but then... she didn't. As though I wasn't who she wanted. And she was gone, and no-one should be able to lose me, that fast."

She nodded to Casimir.

"My first priority is always the security of the Stronghold."

"Of course. Your people's welfare should come first."

"Also, Stan can handle medicine, and I can handle anything else - applied engineering, logistics, math, weather, farming, mechanics, comedy. Let me know what your problems are. I want to help however I can."

Trav fiddles with her phone a bit. Maybe she can sniff out possible 'sorcerers' with something as simple as radio.

"Smoke, you might be right. Holing up underground to hide from cannibalistic cat people sounds pretty damned mentally healthy around here."

Trav uses her phone to broadcast one of her favorite songs. It should be noticeable to anyone who can receive broadspectrum AM and FM over several frequencies.

OOC - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qYjgSYTe-m8
This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Thu 18 Aug 2016.

"Yeah, we will not come back empty-handed." Stanley says. "If they exist, we will find the sorcerers or they will find us. If they don't, we will bring back useful books from the library."

Trav cocks an eyebrow and smiles warmly, seeing the cape billow out from Stan's shoulders and the S on Stan's chest. But Stanley's third world work already made him a hero. If the CVE was open, she'd certainly take him to R-Space and have him meet her Robotech defender family. This is another reason why she traveled.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:51, Thu 18 Aug 2016.

Mysterious white-robed figures obstinately refuse to materialize.

Trav keeps her playlist transmitting. If mysterious figures in white have lousy tastes in music, well, that's on them. Whoever doesn't like the Clash has no soul.

'O'course.' Smoke Alarm agreed with a cheeky grin.



'And if a Kang can't lost-and-found it, then it's probly really lost. the Kang chipped in confidently.

She outlooked around at their gang, mostly loitering now while Traveller earspied muzak. Which wasn't all that good anyhow. It was time to foot it! 'Sides, she had pokémon to catch. 'So, are we outgoing tomorrow or yesterday?'

Kalath kept herself calm, but the girl had a point.

"I would say immediately, unless there is any supplies you need. The sooner we go, the sooner we are back."

"Agreed, the sooner the better. The only thing we really need is some clean water, just to make sure we do not get dehydrated." Stanley replies. "Oh, maybe some large bags to carry the books would be useful."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:36, Fri 19 Aug 2016.