An abandoned farmhouse just outside city limits.

"I'm losing control! Zark! We've lost nearly all systems, she's barely holding together, hold on this is going to be a bumpy landing" The Arkalian Swordsmaster told his crew as they began plummeting towards the planet they had yet to identify.
Grappling with his ships controls he converted what was left for power to under shields and reverse thrusters as the ship crash landed into a field.

Not far from the unique aircraft, an F-18 being flown by Sergeant Regina Cordoff was on aerial manuevers when suddenly, something emerged from one of the craft's aft engines, striking the jet plane, and causing it to spin earthward.

"Damn...combat missions over the Middle East an' here I'm gonna die thanks to a midair muckup..." she thought to herself as she plummeted to the planet below. Then, everything blacked out.

Slowly, she awakened, her head having a throbbing pain. But she felt....better, aside from the head injury.

"What happened? I...I should be dead..."

  You would think Matt would have known better to stick to one spot for too long.  Not just because it meant less odds of discovery, but also because abandoned locations would inevitably become a magnet for the crazy that goes on in the world.

  Case in point, not just one, but two crash landings.  At the same time.

  Matt tugged his baggy hoodie's namesake over his head and down over his 'face' (Or rather lack of one) as far as it could go, before grabbing his trusty pipe from against a farmhouse wall.  'Well, okay...  One has god knows what on it, possibly injured, armed, and freaked out.  The other probably has someone more local in the same condition.'

  Having a conscience can be hazardous to one's health.  Fortunately, you can trick it a little at occasions.  Such as convincing yourself whoever had been in the jet needs your help more, and glossing over the fact a crashed jet would only have one, maybe two tops trigger happy survivors.

  This in mind, Matt approached the downed jet at a fast walking pace.  Someone talking to themselves about not being dead was probably a good sign right?  "Stupid question, but are you okay?  Do you need help" he called out to Starshard, before glancing in the direction of the spacecraft.  "And should we be nervous about the other crash victims or what?"

  Looking towards the Spaceship was good.  It gave him an excuse not to face Starshard.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:53, Sat 14 Apr 2012.

  She shoved the door open, tall and slender, built lean with a space-suit that was form fitting, aside from a bubble-style opaqued helmet.  Two arms, two legs, a long sinuous something from the back (one couldn't tell what it was yet) and easily about eight feet tall.  But clearly conscious and moving.

The female pilot slowly emerged from the wreckage of the fighter plane. She threw off her flight helmet, revealing long flowing blonde hair, and she was immersed at that moment in a purple, glowing energy, which suddenly vanished.

"Um....aside from crashing and burning, I'm just grateful to make it out alive. Um....who are you?" she asked the stranger speaking to her.

  "Eeer, I'm Matt.  Just you're average hobo _freak.  Please do not zap me with crazy purple rays or something." Matt, you weren't even facing her at the time.  You can't have forgotten all the aspects of 'acting like you're still Human' already have you?

  Then suddenly, Space people!  "Looks like you aren't the only survivor.  You wouldn't happen to know any top-secret first contact protocols being a jet pilot or something?  Or is that just tinfoil hat logic."  Still, Matt found himself stepping between Starshard and the Starship.

  "Uh, hello.  Be excellent to eachother?  Is there anyone else in there you need help getting out?"   Matt wasn't offering to help any injured because while he had plenty of practice in having skull fractures not happen in the first place to alleyway muggers, putting people back together was not something he had any real exposure to compared to scenery.

OOC Style: Bubble-Style space helmets, YES.

The sight of the eight-foot tall "thing" unnerved Regina slightly. She attempted to reach for the pistol that was in her jumpsuit but that was not there.

"Sergeant Regina Cordoff...United States Air Force...and the protocols are, after all, top secret. I'm more interested in....THAT...and what its plans are for us.."

During all of this, Regina was still glowing purple as the glow soon extended to her arms and legs.

Following the eight foot tall humanoid was a smaller blue skinned humanoid wearing black and gold robes and he was clutching his side.

  The being stepped out of the door, then tapped at what looked like a bracer or something along her left arm, clearly having hands (even if she DID have six fingers on that hand) before she seemed to be satisfied with what she got.  Then she said something.  It sounded like a pissed off housecat faced with a large dog.  And she ducked back through the door.  Into the ship.

"Oooooooookay....that was interesting....that was...."

Her hands began to pulsate with energy, and they felt as if they had lost circulation.

"What...what's happening to...me?" she said suddenly as she began to float off of the ground, a surprised look on her face.

The Blue skinned humanoid stood beside the other he opened his mouth a melodious singsong voice saying something unintelligable to the humans present.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Sat 14 Apr 2012.