"Mark, if you don't mind me asking," she says as the man begins to head off. Are you familiar with the Flanahan family?

Okay, so, it was a long shot, and on some level a bit racist to assume all of the earth dragon knew each other, but...

"Flanahans?  Irish bastards?  Bare-handed boxers?"  Mark asks, "Yeah, they're a well-respected family.  Did you know any?"  He looks a lot more interested, "The old families have kind of fragmented after the Exodus.  A lot of them are still looking for scions of the old ones so they can try to put together a bloodline again.  Mine's pretty much all gone."

"A man named Patrick taught me everything I know about fighting. Good friend. Knocked me on my ass when I needed a reality check." Her expression brightens a bit more as she remembers the old days, but grows considerably more sober after a pause. "He uh, probably can't help you with the bloodline, though. Went out like a warrior during the Exodus."

Memories of that particularly horrible event start to flood her mind, and for a moment, she starts to feel the room darken a bit. A curious feeling in her stomach seems to fight it off, though, and she manages to maintain her conversational tone. "It's a shame. We need good men like that more than ever."

"A lot of them did."  Mark shakes his head, "Many that didn't need to.  Honor and glory should take second place to survival all the time."

"Which is why he's on my staff," Journeys nods at him.

"Yeah, that.  Still, anything you know about him would interest some of the other Earth dragon-blooded.  We're trying to create a register of sorts.  You never know when the blood might reassert itself and history helps us.  It keeps the Dragon-Blooded connected, and if you'll forgive the pun, grounded.  If you're up for it, I'll pick your brain later."

"I'd be honored to do what I can to preserve his memory." she says. It was a politician's answer. Revisiting those memories wouldn't be pleasant. A whole lot of the past was better forgotten. Still, he was a good man, and he'd stood by her during the Exodus, even after he'd gotten a peek into her real nature. He'd trusted her not to give in to it.

Jess turns back to Journeys. "So, anything in particular on the agenda, or... ?"

"Nope!  Sit back, relax, watch some TV, smoke some herb- Olo's going to get us on the way!"

The trip over is pretty uneventful.  For the most part, the ship is kept in good repair by Nick and Ami, Marco spends most of his time asleep, and Olo flies.  Journeys just jabbers, relaxes, and at some point cooks a delicious omelette.  He switches with Olo when they reach the second waypoint, in which time they've had plenty of time to relax and prepare.

"Alright, Jess.  Into your ship.  we're almost there,"  Journeys calls over the intercom, "We'll be seeing a dead little rock and probably not much else.  Be prepared for an ambush."

Jess nods and makes her way to Shofar. The journey had been pleasant, relaxing, and in good company. She'd made at least a little effort to make an actual connection with them, as well. Now it was back to the battlefield. One more funeral dirge for the dead.

"Rodger that. I'll be ready to launch when you give the word."

Squeezing into her ship is a bit harder than usual, and she's forced to go full skin-tight anime pilot just to do so.  Their yacht just isn't built for easy egress.

The Shofar hums when she enters it.  It's happy.  It's ready to go.

"Alright, we're jumping in..."

The yacht lurches as they jump.  She's gotten a lot more used to the Lothlorien's jerking, twisting jumps that turn her stomach inside-out.  Upon exit of the jump-point, she sees a dead little moon orbiting a gas giant circling a lone, guttering-red sun.  It doesn't look exactly promising.

"Sensors, Olo?"

"Nothing from the vicinity.  Same readings we got from before around the moon."

"Alright, Tempo, time for you to detach and go close."

"Tempo, huh?" she thinks to herself as she sends the remote request to disengage the clamps holding her ship to the large vessel.

"Shofar is floating free, and my eyes are peeled. Heading towards the target."

She accelerates carefully, ready to take evasive action if necessary. She keeps the light show off, not wanting to attract attention at this stage of the likely ambush. There would be time for music and flare once the killing started.

This was good. She was here in a new suit, a newly repaired friend, a new name, and only a semi-reasonable chance of losing people she'd decided recently that she liked. Things were looking up, which of course meant something was about to go horribly wrong.

Tempo does her best to stay relaxed as she watches her screen and checks the various sensors.

She's alone, for the first time since Journeys visited her in Sanctuary.  The screen shows nothing but dead rock, which is not reassuring.  The whole thing screams at her senses.  She's used to death, by now; it's an old, old enemy, and she's been steeped in it for longer than a decade.

Eventually she gets closer to the moonlet.  Her sensors start beeping- she's detecting an energy source on the side of the moon closest to the gas giant.

"Sensors have picked up the energy signature." she says, quickly. "Side of the moonlet facing the gas giant. Going in for a closer look. Weapons are ready for any 'surprises', though I'm still getting a weird feeling about this."

The music is once again about to play. The calming, familiar tempo of battle would sound, and once again, she would direct it, and orchestrate the violence into something that was, at the very least beautiful. The Morningstar didn't understand this sort of thing, for the simple reason that he was too central a part of the narrative. Everything was too real to him. Every loss too personal. He was too good a man to understand something like her.

She felt a little more at peace with that now.

To a man like him, each fight was a righteous battle in the name of greater ideals.

To Jess, war boiled down to two things.

Violence The targeting array is primed.

and Noise.

She rests her fingers on the triggers.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:55, Thu 16 Feb 2017.

She flies around the moonlet, her ship cutting silently through the Void.  She has to take the long way around the ecliptic thanks to the gravity well of the gas giant.

Around the other side, she sees scaffolding growing out of the moonlet like a black city.  Skyscrapers of black support a half-dozen Abyssal cruisers, each of them under varying stages of construction.  There are no fighters she recognizes either; instead there are a half-dozen larger ships, bigger than the Shofar but smaller than the Lothlorien or the Pilar.  If piloted by the Living, it'd fit 3-5 individuals in cramped quarters.

They don't seem to have noticed her.

This all seemed wrong. She wasn't horribly outmatched by her measurements, but if this was a trap she'd set, she'd absolutely have made sure those cruisers looked less operational than they were. Furthermore, with numbers like this, first strike was of a reduced value, especially given how tough Abyssal vessels tended to be.

Jess pulls back, sending a carefully directed message to Journeys. "Enemies sighted. Half dozen Abyssal craft of unknown capability, bigger than me, but smaller than the Pilar. Half a dozen cruisers in a a few different stages of construction. Strongly suspect we're meant to assume none of them can move yet. Backing off, not sure if we've been noticed yet."

"This was a low percentage situation.  Core suggested that it could be an accidental datasquirt, a change in Abyssal coding from a forward R&D facility that would be received differently.  Percentage chance of this being a trap is still pretty high."  The message bounces around the moon after a 30 second delay- no doubt encryption. "That is a target of high priority if it's legit, though.  Think you can swing in closer and give it a better look?"

It's looking a bit like less of a trap- the smaller ships continue their measured patrols, but she can see figures working on the edges of the cruiser, welding pieces in place with the occasional flare of necrotic energy.  At the same time, Tempo most assuredly is not a stealthy type, so if she gets in closer she may very well get sniffed out.

"If I go in, I've got less than a ten percent chance of not being seen. You picked the wrong rainbow elephant for a stealth mission..." She rechecks her instruments for a final time, trying her best to pierce any deceptions. "Of course, even the worst case of all those ships being online isn't necessarily going to kill me. I'll make the attempt at sneaking closer. If they see me, well, the music starts again."

The worst case would be plenty fucking terrible, actually, but it was true that running away was a bit easier than shooting them all apart. Tempo does her best to at least feel for the flow of the patrols, going for more precise timing than overt hiding.

She does her best, but keeps her fingers just as tightly on the triggers.

((Go ahead and make a Stealth roll.))

"Roger that.  We're ready for a quick run out.  Only use the radio now if you need to run.  Total silence- now."

((8, 7, 7, 7, 6, 2, 2 & 2
Stealth 37 - 10 = 27
3 2s into River))

The darkness of space is a poor audience, and she imagined even someone like Lyla would have issues making such a massive, thick armored thing disappear. Jess does her best to pilot Shofar into the gaps in the patrols. The maneuvering is reasonable, she supposes, given the circumstances, but unless the enemy is having a bad day, it was unlikely to be the miracle she needed.

((Detection:
9, 7, 7, 6, 4, 3, 1, 1 & 1
*Detect 31 + Awareness 15 = 46))

The gaps in the patrols exist, yes.  But if the Shofar is an elephant and the Benisuzume is a graceful bird, these new ships are lions.  One of them picks up on her almost immediately.  They all turn, converging on her position.

She still has a few moments.  She could still probably turn and run.

There was no reason to run here. If she died out here, it would be a nice quiet demise, and at worst, she'd be buying the other ship more time to escape. There was a lot of unknown to the odds of success, but even the worst case wasn't immediate death. It was time to start killing.

Tempo engages the enemy.

"Get this party started
on a saturday night

Everybody's waiting
for me to arrive"

As she starts pumping the music, she actually gets something back for once.  This is, for lack of a better word, unusual.

"UNIDENTIFIED VESSEL.  Lower your shields and power down your weapons!  This is by the will of the Grandmaster of the Immaculate Order!  If you do not yield you will be fired upon!"

And that's when her connection with the Lothlorien gets cut.

There were many situations she had imagined when flying out here. Many clever plots she might have to navigate, or enemies she might need to triumph over. This was... absolutely outside her expectation. Jess powers down her weapons and shields, an action made more obvious by how bright and shiny they normally were.

 A surprise attack would be a bad way to start this conflict, but if this was a bluff, it was an interesting one.

"Weapon systems are down. Shields made inactive."

"Name/Callsign, immediately."  The Immaculate ship contacts her, "You may refer to me as Pyreflame Leader.  Prepare to be towed to the Eyrie for inquisition and interrogation!"

The larger ships loom over her.  She can see they aren't designed like most Abyssal ships; they're a bit too personalized, covered with religious sigils and little personal touches.  The one called Pyreflame Leader pulls up alongside her.  There are three men sitting behind the transparent cockpit.

Another of the curious ships flanks her other side.  This one has a goddamn pinup model of what sure as hell looks like an Abyssal in BDSM clothing; the ship is called the DeathGoddess.  Some enterprising censor has drawn black bars over the naughty bits.

"Pyreflame leader, name's Kris Raid, callsign is Noise.

She wasn't sure if any good could come of getting dragged back to their command center, but she wanted to see how this was going to play out.

"DeathGoddess, I have to say that's one amazing customization.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:48, Tue 28 Mar 2017.

"Drew it myself," There's a dark chuckle on the other side of the line, "Thanks for the compliment."

"Alright Noise, stay nice and quiet." Pyreflame Leader orients itself above the Shofar, his ship looming over her own.  Little compartments open on the underside of the craft. From her vantage point she can see magnets and cables, which he then fires.  The Shofar shudders as there's a connection, and then the subtle surge of electricity as the electromagnets start to work.  "Noise, be advised that the Immaculate Order welcomes all converts to its cause.  You are doing the right thing by joining us here."

There are a lot of things that go through the Solar Exalt's head at that moment. She knows it's possible for her to break free, which had been her plan... but these ships weren't familiar. It was all the more obvious up close.

As she's reeled up, a hundred different branches of possible decisions fire off in her head regarding what to do, but it's somehow comforting as each path gradually disappears. She's waited so long for this moment to arrive that, oddly, she just hopes they get on with it. Really, it was a relief that it was happening this way. Had she remained much longer on board,
 Lucifer would have eventually unmasked her for the fraud she was, even if he had mistaken her shame for self-pity.

So, instead, she makes not a peep as she is pulled above. She sort of wants to hear what they had to say, to better understand people who so clearly weren't serving as slaves of the Neverborn, nor are as clearly broken as their Champions. Whatever awaits above, imprisonment, death, or worse... illumination, more heroes will rise. Real ones this time. Ones worthy to lead the Living to their salvation.

Jess only hoped Journeys would escape in time.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:35, Wed 12 Apr 2017.