Sereth:

The spacecraft around you shakes and shudders.  The people jammed into the cargo hold with you jostle and grab at any support.  As a series of impacts rock the vessel, and you barely keep your footing.

Getting into the vessel seemed like a prudent course of action at the time, when the enemy bombardment began.  You had been directed to travel to the Arsuran system to gather information on a faction of Earthmen calling themselves The Fists of Thirty Suns.  Normally, squabbles among Earthmen were of little interest toward you -- but then, there was the way that the name of the group kept changing, with the number of suns going up with each new report.  And there were also the interests of Draconian subjects to consider, to say nothing of the personal interest shown by the Imperial household.

You have learned a bit about the Fists in your investigations.  They are said to be unlike most other Earthmen: resolute and disciplined in battle, devoted to their personal physical perfection.  They seem, however, to lacj an appreciation of the scope of history: they deem that rule is their due and they would overthrow order to claim it.  This makes them both like and unlike your own people: the similarity makes them dangerous; and the differences make them unpredictable.

You were on Arsuran Orbital Prime when the loudspeakers started blaring the alarm and the plasma bombs started to erupt in Central.  It galled you a bit to turn from an honorable battle, but there was only so much even a Draconian warrior could do with just a blade and a pistol, and no one, you noted, was offering you an interceptor to pilot.  So you found yourself helping to organize the many panicked hands clearing cargo out of noncombatant vessels, to make room for evacuees.

The situation, however, deteriorated faster than expected.  You'd found yourself swept into the hold of a stubby freighter called the Lucky Drifter, and you are coming to realize that this may have been a grievous error, possibly a fatal one.  Your hope had been that any ship captain would at least understand basic evasive maneuvers, but – though you have only the pitch and sway of the vessel under your feet to judge by – this ship's pilot clearly does not.  You fear that this ship is being flown by a shopkeeper, a fact which may doom all aboard.

As you reflect on this, a more powerful blast than any of the others slams into the ship.  Refugees of all species are sent sprawling: Earthmen, Silurians and Martians, even a few of your fellow Draconians.

As you pick yourself up, you can feel a rough vibration through the decking, possibly indicating some engine damage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:26, Sat 30 Nov 2013.

Smoke Alarm:

You tether yourself to a cargo bracket fixed into the wall of the sky-fly and do your best to ride out the buffeting.  Sky-flys unsettle you.  The insides of this one are gray and stained and metal and rough, and it almost reminds you of home, but the main thing about sky-flies is that they go up, and a childhood filled with tales of the Great Pool In The Sky still makes you wary of doing that.

But it was the only way to get around in the Big Black.  You've heard it said that every light in the Black was a world, and every world was big enough to contain thousands on thousands of Towers.  It's almost too much for your brain-box to take in.  So much to see!

And you've had seen a lot of them.  Still, the one they called Arsuran Orbital Prime was even stranger than most.  You hadn't meant to end up there – but you got from place to place by hopping on sky-flys, and sometimes you didn't know where they'd end up, particularly when you didn't exactly ask permission first.  (Not that there is any good reason to.  A sky-fly is like a Tower, and the Tower belonged to everyone, leastways as much as you and your fellow Kangs could stake out for yourselves back in the day.  Is it your fault if people don't mark their places with proper wall-scrawl?)

On Arsuran Prime, though, the ground curved up and away from you in two directions, until it met itself far, far over your head, and then one direction was always sunshiny, and the last direction was always filled with a big red-and-blue ball that they said was another world.  It took some getting used to, but you were just starting to get the hang of the place, when they came.

More sky-flys.

Sky-flys the color of old blood, that zoomed overhead and dropped big balls of glowing orange that burst and burned.  Sky-flys that brought wipeouts.

And then there had been people running and shouting and trying to find sky-flys to pile onto to get away from Arsuran Prime, all at once.  You managed to find yourself a place, jammed in among dozens and dozens of strangers; they were all meant to be there, so the people who ran this sky-fly were at least showing themselves to have some goodness in them.

Now, though, you're starting to get worried.  The enemy sky-flys must be after yours – you could tell by the shaking and rocking and occasional bang that flung most of the others around you from their feet, the ones that hadn't had the foresight of a Kang.  You wish you had a way to see out; you wish you had a way to do something.  This is no way for a brave Kang to be, helpless and waiting for someone to make her unalive!

—the little girl grabbed at the harness, pouting and irritated. She wanting to run free and play, but it was all buckled up tight now. 'All safe and sound.' said her mum reassuringly, stroking the girl's hair out of her eyes. There was water on her mum's face, and fear and sadness in her eyes, even while she tried to smile. The girl knew something was wrong; the grown-ups had been acting all worried for days, talking about something called "war" and "fight", while the thunder got louder and louder and towers fell down.

'Mummy!' the girl cried, realising she was going away, far away.

'Shush, hun. It's okay. You're going to a new home. I want you to stay close to Nanna, okay? Stay with Nanna. She'll look after you. And Puddy's here with you. See, there's Puddy.' The stuffed cat sat in the pouch with drink bottle and snacks, looking just as sad. 'Mummy and Daddy will be with you soon.' The mother kissed her daughter on the head, again, and tried to hug her, again. 'I want you to be a brave girl for mummy and daddy.'

'Brave.' she murmured, trying out the word.

Then Mummy was gone, and Daddy. Nanna was in another room. There were only the children in their harnesses, some eating, some playing, some sobbing and crying. Then the lights went out and the whole room rumbled and there was a loud roar and the girl was pressed into her seat and then somewhere an explosion and then everybody was screaming.

'Brave—'

---

'—and bold as a Kang should be. Brave and bold as a Kang—...' she muttered the mantra as she held tight to the strap looped around the bracket and her own wrist. Tied and true. She wasn't too bad at riding the smaller motions, the "turbo-lens". But when the room rocked one way, she swung far out over the ground. And when the room rocked back, she was slammed into the wall, knocking the breath from her and interrupting her chant.

But better this than to be out on the floor, holding nothing. She saw people standing being thrown to the ground. Those on the ground were bounced up and down. Some people were thrown into the walls and crates, and into those like her who'd gotten to the brackets and other handholds. She felt like she was in the trash compactor in the Basement. This was completely unfun.

Then she let go of her strap. In a moment of peace, she grabbed the hand of someone who'd fallen into her — an old Rezzie man — and clasped it to the strap. 'Be holding on.' she told him. After all, Kangs were young and strong, Rezzies old and weak. She moved out on to the deck, into the rolling crowd of people, falling over with them. People were getting hurt. People were crying and screaming. Scaredy-cats, she thought, but right now she felt like a scaredy-cat herself. So many people, youngsters, oldsters, inbetweens. Boys and girls. Aliens. All together now, like Kangs.

'Hold hands!' she shouted over the crying and the roaring and banging. 'Be holding hands!' She had a hard time making herself heard or known, so she simply grabbed two people's hands and linked them together, then pushed one at the old Rezzie. 'Hold hands! Line up!' Thus she shepherded the people together. Holding hands, one to the next, lining up across the cargo bay, they could all carry each other.


OOC: Keep footing: coordination + athletics: 14
Leadership: presence + convince: 8
Linking hands: coordination + strength: 16
This message was last edited by the player at 03:41, Sat 30 Nov 2013.

Smoke Alarm finds that she's able to steady and secure a handful of people right next to her, the ones she can reach right out to and practically put hand in hand on her own.  But her voice isn't carrying at all in the din of all the scaredy-cats, and some of those who can hear her don't seem impressed by the many badges of honor she has collected as a Blue Kang brave and true.

Sereth, across the hold, notices the Earth girl vainly trying to make her fellow travellers work together for their own safety.  She seems to have a fair idea of what she's about, but is plainly failing to command the respect to put her plan into action.

'Foot it over there, slowpoke! Hold hands, hook arms.' Smoke Alarm directed one reluctant man to move and link up, but to little response. Those who saw her looked on blindly. 'Cowardly cutlets! Do you want to be unalive?' Her struggle seemed futile. Beyond the little chain and web she'd formed, she couldn't get anyone to follow her idea, and it wouldn't work unless they all worked together. Was this how she was to be made unalive, to go to the Great Pool in the Sky? No, a Blue Kang would not be outgoing like this.


OOC: Just to gauge Smoke's reaction, a courage check: resolve + ingenuity + brave = 19, double-sixes.

The Draconian grunts and moves over towards the earth girl, and then speaks quietly.

"Listen to what the girl says. She may be just a girl; but in this, at least, she seems to have a fairly good idea as to what she's talking about." In particular; his eyes focused on other Draconians, willing them to obey -him-, if not respect the weak girl.

OOC: Not to clear generally, about when/what to roll, so bear with me. I'm guessing based on Smoke Alarm's post this would be convince + presence sooo...


Leadership: 10:34, Today: Sereth rolled 15 using 2d6+8. Leadership: Presence + Convince.

Some of the refugees in the hold recognize Sereth from when he was helping to direct the evacuation on the ground; some just respond to his imposing and assertive manner.  People start joining together, hand on hand.  Seeing how Smoke Alarm has tied herself off to a mooring bracket, some of them do the same with belts, harness straps, and sashes, bracing the frailer persons in the crowd as they do.

In a few minutes, they've formed a web of thirty-seven people linked together, helping each other absorb the jolts that continue to rock the ship.

Smoke watched in alarm as the giant scaly man approached her, wondering if meant some to-do against her. But then he added his voice to hers in trying to implement her plan, and actually got people moving. She gave him a thankful look, then linked her skinny arm with his strong one as they got others to form a chain.

Finally, Smoke Alarm found herself linked right and left to the lizard-man and all the other people, swaying back and forth and left and right as the ship was rocked and buffeted. Waves moved through the crowd, but no-one fell over or was thrown far. If one fell, there was someone to catch them and help them up. The ship turned and the deck tilted, and Smoke found herself half-falling down, held up by the strong lizard-man. 'Aaaah!' she shouted wildly, and then, incredibly, the Kang started laughing. Her plan worked! She was alive! This was fun!
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Sun 01 Dec 2013.

He grimaced as he held up the girl, not out of pain, or fear, but out of frustration. A frustration that only grew as the girl laughed.

"Whilst it is good that your plan worked little one, this is no laughing matter, and it's not over yet. This is no game."

He braced himself, and prepared for what was to come.

Smoke had her feet planted in a wide stance on the metal deck, rarely moving while she swayed with the ship and the whole crowd. 'Everything's a game, egg-head!' she teased, being pushed into the lizard-man. 'That is the Kang game. We laugh to not be unbrave.' Falling forward, she yelled in excitement as if she was on a rollercoaster, and, in a way, she was. 'Waaaah!'

Red lights start to flash on the walls of the hold, and a speaker crackles somewhere.  A scratchy male voice comes over it.

"Rivvan?  Rivvan, do you read me?  I'm showing a blowout in the starboard feed matrix.  Something hit us amidships and the main companionway is impassible.  You didn't answer the direct link, so I went to shipwide.  Rivvan, we need the starboard engine back on line!"

A few moments go by, and there's no response.  Then the same voice adds, "Rivvan?  Aw, hell!"  There's a palpable rise in the tension among the refugees in the hold; most of them are looking around even more nervously than before.

Around the hold, Serath and Smoke Alarm can see that there are a pair of hatchways heading forward and back through the ship.  Each of these has a small comm panel next to it.  In addition to those exits and the main loading door, there are several ducts for the ventilation system.

She heard the message, and although she didn't know who Rivvan was or what was wrong with the sky-fly, she knew it sounded bad and not to be laughed about. Was Rivvan unalive? She looked to the egg-head; he seemed to know was going on. 'Is the sky-fly broken?'

"This. This is no game." Sereth grimaced at the comm system. Whoever Rivvan was, chances are he was dead. And if they didn't move quickly so were they.

He tried not to let his concern show to any of the other refugees; for fear it would cause a panic.  The communications system might work; but it might also serve to panic people even further. Dammnit. He'd rather a one-on-one duel or even trying to deal diplomatically with humans than stuck aboard a ship that was being shot at.

A nod towards the girl.

"Yes. It is broken." A frown. "We must see about escaping, somehow."

Smoke looked incredulously to the lizard-man. 'Escaping? The sky-fly? How? We are in the high black sky now.' And they couldn't breathe out there and they would fall forever and ever and ever. Mop had told her that. Smoke missed Mop and the Exeter sky-fly and all her friends there. 'Can you make the sky-fly work?'
This message was last edited by the player at 01:57, Mon 02 Dec 2013.