As Kalath feels the pressure collapse in on her with a roaring that surges out with a weird SHOOP, she has the time to wonder if perhaps she's been wrong, and where she's going to end up is nowhere safe or even survivable.

But then the world rushes back to her, and she finds herself crouching on flat ground, in a place that is very, very strange.  There is grass under her, and sky above, but there is a sense about them that is slightly less than real.  The grass seems to spread itself out in vaguely varying heights and patterns and colors, but Kalath can't shake the feeling that it's slightly more ordered than grass should be.  The same goes for the rolls and dips in the ground, the spreading webs of branches in the trees -- not precisely like the trees from her home, but certainly recognizable as trees -- and even the shapes of the clouds in the sky above.

She realizes, suddenly, that despite there being no lack of light to see by, there's no clear source of the light.  No sun, in short.

Two final features in her surroundings draw her attention.

Among a scattering of trees to her left, she sees a set of structures.  They're the same general shades as the trees themselves, so it seems that they might have been constructed from the wood.  She sees movement among the buildings -- people, seemingly.  No one seems to have reacted to Kalath's presence as yet.

To her right and slightly ahead, the land rises into a ridge or plateau, and rising out of it is what appears to be one large building, or perhaps a monument?  It's not the shape of any of the buildings back on Kestartes, but what she encountered in the Habisphere has perhaps enlarged what she is prepared to accept as a building.  It rises from a sloping base and then spreads again into an ovoid shape of geometric facets, the whole thing in shimmering, reflective red-violet.  This structure looks like it's a fair hike away, while the clustered buildings look like they're relatively close by.

So it seems that Kalath's gamble has been successful.  The truth of what and where this place is, is yet to be established.

OOC: Take 2 more story points for your Bad Traits.  I promise to make you spend them.

She was used to order. The Citadel had only functioned as well as it did because of it. But order should not be for the grass. Or for nature in general. Something wasn't right.

And people were the answer, not strange monuments, at least for now. Mayhap they had also been taken? Was this an entire community of taken people? That sung to the Hunter in her as well, did not the Hunters develop communities of those who had once been taken, but had succumbed to the Call?

She moved closer, cautiously, to the huts. To the people, Smoke's well-wishes ringing in her ears.

The first thing Kalath realizes as she gets closer is that most of the inhabitants of the little village (?) are wearing the same sort of overall outfits that Murcheson, Makoro and Sokolov had, which seems to confirm that this is exactly where the missing people have ended up.  Not a staggering revelation, but one that's good to confirm.  All the ones she can see do appear human; there is not the wide variety of unusually formed people that she came across when the TARDIS visited the Habisphere.

Quite a few of them appear to be working on putting up additional shelters.  She sees that a few do have simple hand tools to aid in this endeavor.  Several individuals are scattered away from the main area, and a few of these have strange devices that Kalath would class with the kind of gear Trav is always fiddling with, "magic" things like the "phone" Kalath now carries.  Most of this latter class of people seem to be making an examination of their surroundings: the trees, the turf, the odd reddish "soil" beneath.

At one edge of the settlement, there's a wide area taken up by rows and rows of what she'd assume to be plants -- she recognizes a layout that isn't dissimilar from the rooftop greenhouses that helped to sustain the Stronghold on Kestartes.  The plants themselves, though, don't look familiar.  They're fairly consistent in shape and size, rough cylinders that don't have a very differentiated system of stems, branches and leaves, but seem to be made up of a mass of fine, wispy blue-green material with small brown nodules dotted here and there among it; fruit, perhaps.

No one seems at all bothered about keeping a watch or manning (non-existent) defenses.  Kalath has yet so see anything like nonhuman animal life, so perhaps that accounts for their foolish nonchalance.  Certainly no one has spotted her, yet.

For now, she continued to watch, not yet ready to reveal herself. For starters, she had to do a sweep around the village, just to be certain there was no possible wildlife to worry about. She actually started to sneak at this point though - the aim was for her to find out about them, not for them to find out about her.

OOC: 22:33, Today: Kalath rolled 19 using 2d6+10 with rolls of 4,5.  Co-ordination + subterfuge + sneaking.

Kalath makes her way silently to the edge of the cleared area where the little camp, or village, has been erected.  As she'd noticed before, the grass tops off unnaturally near to the ground, so making her way across it is almost more like making her way over a soft carpet.  As yet, she still hasn't seen anything like an animal lurking here on the outskirts.  She's close enough to a pair of the people that she can hear them speaking to each other -- they are a young fair-haired woman, maybe a bit older than Kalath herself, and an older dark-skinned man with a shaven scalp.

The pair of them are examining a low shrub, similar to what are apparently the cultivated food plants but with much sparser foliage.  Kalath is screened from their view among a grouping of the strange trees.

"It's like the rest," the woman is saying.  In on hand she's holding a flat device like the Traveller's "IPad" and in the other, a short rod connected to the tablet by a twisted wire; she's moving the rod over and around the bush while she reads off the tablet.  "More of this organic polymer, this ersatz cellulose, but constructed in a fractal cellular pattern.  Edible, at a pinch, but not a lot of calories by volume.  Certainly not as designed for it as the fakeberry bushes are."

"I suppose none of that should be surprising," the man says.  "No one has a real good read on what the 'Keeper' is really able to accomplish, but it's like they have a vague notion of Maslow's hierarchy, but they're not really that clever with biological systems.  All of this is more synthesized, or programmed, more than grown per se."

"I don't get why the Commander is going along with setting up this place, just on the Keeper's say-so."

"Do we have a choice?  Best thing we can do is learn until we can figure out what it wants.  It's not like we have a way out, or any kind of sophisticated weapons.  Hell, we've barely got sticks."

A buzzing sounds from somewhere above Kalath in the trees, like the wings of an insect.

OOC: Do you reckon Kalath is armed?

Getting a look at what's making the noise would be an Awareness + Ingenuity + Keen Senses.

She felt uneasy. That noise, didn't sound good. She turned, to try and get a good look at it, her eyes flashing.

OOC:
22:42, Today: Kalath rolled 14 using 2d6+7 with rolls of 4,3.  Awareness + Ingenuity + keen senses.

She would certainly have her spear. A bow would be a bit more uncertain. She might, but could easily see not as well.

Up in the branches, maybe six or eight yards off the ground, Kalath spots something hovering.  Unlike the plants, this doesn't seem to be making any pretense of being a living thing: it's bronze in color and clearly metallic, shaped something like a many-eyed spider held aloft on four whirring blades -- smaller than the Traveller's flying "scutter" devices, but larger than the communication familiars she'd seen on the Habisphere.

The thing swivels in the air, aiming its various lenses and probes around both at the pair of people Kalath has been spying on, and at Kalath herself.

She froze, not wishing to draw attention to herself, and also not wanting to provoke it to focus on the others either. She just watched for now, though ready to spring into action, her spear at her side.

The pair studying the bush straighten up and step back from it.  They start to turn away and back towards the grouped buildings, but as they do, Kalath hears a dissonant blerp noise coming from the woman's tablet.  "What the shmoo...?" she says.

Then she turns in an arc, holding out the rod-on-a-wire as she does -- and as the arc passes Kalath, her tablet makes more insistent blerp! blerp! blerp! noises.  "Complex organics of some kind, maybe real life," she says, moving briskly in Kalath's direction as she does.  She's still looking at her device instead of in front of her, and if Kalath meant her ill, she'd have been dead to rights.

"Felice, wait, you don't what you're--" says the man.

Even as she's reacting to this new development, Kalath realizes that the hovering device is ascending, hiding itself with the branches of the tree.

OOC:

Well, to be honest I did expect Kalath to do something more proactive with the situation, which is why I had left things were they were for so long.  You can react before they spot you, if you like.

Elsewhere....

Nearly in the shadow of the towering obelisk, a wide, still lake sits bordered by clumps of trees, and turf extending up nearly to the shoreline.  No waves break the surface, no basking waterfowl dot the water and no fish stir it with their motion.

The sound of wheezing thunder breaks across the silent scene.  Ripples suddenly radiate across the surface of the water, as if the lake has only just remembered that this is a thing it's supposed to do.  At first transparent, then slowly solidifying, the shape of a tall blue box with a flashing light atop it appears.  When the roaring stops with a satisfying thud, the box with its battered panels, smoky windows and jaunty American flag logo seems more solid and real than anything else in the vicinity.

The door of the TARDIS opens and the Traveller pops out, looking around her, followed very shortly by the smaller blue form of Smoke Alarm.  To both, the surroundings have an unfinished feel.  To Smoke Alarm, this reminds her of animated videos she's watched on the TARDIS' picturespouts, but one that the creators brought right up to the very verge of realism, but failed to quite finish the job.

To the Traveler, the effect is rather different.  The environment is plainly real and physical -- her seventh and eighth senses provide her with that much of a feel for the objects around her -- but it's also just as plainly fabricated, and while she gets much a similar sense of a thing unfinished, it's also fairly astonishing to her just how elaborate the creation is and how much effort is going into maintaining all of it.  A planetful of Logipolitans with their abaci all a-clacking would be hard pressed to maintain the scope and depth of this place.

Trav of course adjusts her glasses. "This is all math. Well, everything is math, but this place is big, very big. Someone really likes Minecraft. It's the base algorithms that are beautiful, even though this place has very much a Super Famicom aesthetic. I wonder how it all holds together without power?"

Trav is scanning with her glasses, seeing if it's safe to go beyond the bounds of the TARDIS' atmosphere field and gravity. It would be pretty laughable if they all died because the makers had forgotten to code in air.

Ingenuity+Science?

It's trivial for the Traveller to establish that her surroundings are capable of sustaining herself and her passengers normally.

What she's able to discern of the structure and the plant life around her suggests that in its present state it's perfectly coherent matter, though the plants seem to be built to mimic normal CO₂ / oxygen respiration rather than properly photosynthesizing.  Everything looks like it's built up out of proper compounds and molecular bonds that aren't reliant on being externally sustained, but they seem more like they've been assembled by God's own 3D printer rather than grown organically.

OOC: 19:44, Today: The Guardian, on behalf of The Traveller, rolled 20 using 2d6+14 ((3,3))

Smoke Alarm footed out of the talkiphone box and outlooked around her in mazement at the cartoony not-real-ness of the place. It even skipped right over her unboldness at being in the great outdoors. But was she really even in the great outdoors, if she was really in a picturespout, when everything was made-up? Mayhaps not. 'Icehot!' she gasped. 'It really is a wallscrawl world... Vinsen! Is this the place you were lost in?'
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Sun 03 Mar 2019.

Vinsen is peering cautiously out through the door of the police box.

"This is it; you got us here," he says, an unspoken I hope we can still make it back. beneath his words.  He points up at the structure towering above them.  From this distance, Smoke Alarm and Trav can see that the ruby-colored surface is made up of thousands of interlocking planes, like a many-faceted jewel.  "The others, the people from the base, said that was the home of the lord that rules this place, maybe the one that was bringing us all here to start with."

With that simple show-and-tell, Smoke Alarm's wonder suffered a sudden wipe-out, like running into a wall or hitting the ground too hard. 'The lord?' she repeated blankly, asking unbravely 'Is it a caretaker? Or a great architect?' Her outlook became as clear as clean glass. This was a made-up, built place, all the way down to the grass, no rough and messy bits anywhere. Mayhaps this wasn't a wallscrawl world. Mayhaps this was a blank-walls world.

"Not a great architect, more like a great fingerpainter. See, my people made worlds like this all the time. We call it block transfer mathematics. Sweet Boy himself is made out of that math. But when we designed things, we made sure it didn't look like the Lego movie. See, when we careen through time the math that makes up Sweet Boy keeps us safe, like a nice woven carpet. This stuff, though, seems literally like someone is... just fooling around. Like a big gigantic wallscrawl. The technology isn't weird to me, it's the aesthetic, but it matches what we know about the Warpsmiths of Phaidon. My people the Time Lords were all harumph and serious in their architecture - even I was when I built my Genesis Arks. This seems more like play - someone seeing if they can do something."

Trav sticks her foot out, and upon testing the "soil", takes a few steps out of the TARDIS.

"Remember, someone was trying to erase the writings of Raccalan and the Warpsmiths. Whoever made this place and lives here could be in great danger. In addition to getting Research Station Hecate's people home, we have to warn them."

She calls back to the guests. "My friends, if you'd feel safer in my ship, please feel free to stay. If we're not back in 24 hours, just hit the big red button on the console, and my virtual agent Chibi will come on line and take you back home. However, our aim is to find the rest of your people and have a very crowded TARDIS taking your comrades home." She aims her sonic towards the panel, setting up a scanning sequence for Sweet Boy's sensors to thoroughly analyze this place while they are gone as well as plot the way back home.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:47, Sun 03 Mar 2019.

'Made of math?' Smoke Alarm repeated dully, her blue-haired head whirling with the ideas. To her, math was just numbers on a page she didn't have knowhow of back at the school. But if it could move Lego blocks around and wallscrawl whole places like this, she would have paid more attention. Mayhaps. She still wasn't so egg-sure about the lord or great finger-painter though. 'Is this mathemagic safe?'

Deciding to test out this mathemagic, Smoke Alarm hopped (first one leg, then the other) and jumped, testing the gravity and hardness of the grass. She might not have knowhow of block transfer mathemagic, tetchnology, and warpsmithing, but she had the knowhow to move, and move well. Figuring it had been too many ticktocks since she'd really moved, Smoke took off, running at a tree at all speed, then footed up off the trunk, flipping right over in an arc of blue.

"Maybe this is just a proof of concept." Stanley says as he exits the TARDIS and enters this strange, constructed 'world'. Trav may not be impressed, but Stanley cannot even begin to imagine the amount of resources needed to build or create something like this. "A sketch before they fill in all the details."

"I suppose that all depends," says Murcheson.  "Where are you going?  Our missing people are here, somewhere, according to Mr. Vinsen.  How do you intend to find them?  I imagine you'll have an easier time persuading Commander Alston that you're on the level, if some of us come with."

Gravity seems to work as expected here, perhaps a little lighter than Smoke is used to.  The grass is weird and springy, and it actually makes Smoke a little less disturbed by the open spaces because it reminds her of a carpet.

"You are a brave bunch. Mr Murcheson, why don't you and, if he's feeling up to it, Mr Vinsen, join us? Mr Vinsen, I wouldn't fault you if you wanted to stay back here, but you know this place better than any of us."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:25, Tue 05 Mar 2019.

Carpet-grass, the way it should be.

Following her hop-skip-jump freerunning, Smoke Alarm footed back to the others and made a whirling forward flip on the way, taking advantage of the slightly lower gravity. 'Mayhaps this is where Kalath cameout?' she proposed as she skidded to a stop-sign. She pointed to the high obelisk beside the lake, added 'I think she'd be outgoing to the tower. It's whereabouts I'd be outgoing anyhow.' They'd both grown up in ruined cities and tower blocks after all.

Trav nods. "Right-o." Out comes the phone. Does Kalath show up on her GPS, since Sweet Boy is here? She of course follows Smoke Alarm.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:08, Tue 05 Mar 2019.

Smoke's suggestion makes sense. The obelisk looks like a place someone would head to find out. Stanley follows Trav and Smoke, keeping an eye on Mr Murcheson, Mr Vinsen and/or whoever else came along.

"O-okay," says Vinsen.  "I'll come."  To Smoke Alarm he still sounds unbrave, but then a Kang is as a Kang does.  Murcheson gives a more decisive nod to Trav's invitation.


Kalath's phone registers, all right.  But the tracking function shows it in the middle of a tiny splotch of terrain, separated from the environs of Trav and the others by some kilometers of black terra incognita.

Smoke Alarm eyespied the talkiphone's picturespout. 'Is that her she-are-here?' she tried, really tried. 'Mayhaps I knowhow to track back to her.' Taking the talkiphone and turning it around, Smoke Alarm tried to orient herself and the map to the vast park around them, and find a route to Kalath. But it was tricky, without any neat straight-line carrydoors and streets to guide her, with instead messy, wide-open, non-flat great-outdoors parks where anything could be in the way and anything could lurk, like dogs or cleaners. 'We'll have to outgo thru the icky black stuff.'


OOC:
14:21, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 15 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 2,4.  awareness(4) + ingenuity(3) + Sense of Direction(2).

Trav of course trusts the wise Kang to do the right thing, and lets her work with the phone.

Smoke Alarm is astonished to realize, as she starts walking with Trav's talkiphone in hand, that the map on the screen starts to fill with color-coded terrain as she moves, and as she peers closely in it she sees at the center of the newly-filled bits a tiny blue pixellated figure.

Looking up to get her bearings she judges that kalath is gong to be thataway, up over a rise beyond the obelisk, where she can see the trees growing thicker.

She went footing off with the others playing follow-the-leader. 'It's okay, the black stuff is outgoing away anyhow.' Smoke reassured them. She squinted at the pixelly blue figure. 'And that must be my you-are-here. Kalath outlooks to be in the trees, not in the tower yet.'

"It's like the game drawing in terrain when you're playing an MMO." Trav of course follows Smoke Alarm.

It takes about twenty minutes for the group to make the hike to the top of the rise.  All the way, the obelisk is a looming presence on their right -- it's hard to imagine that the group has escaped notice if there are any potential observers inside it.  But there has been no overt reaction.

Upon reaching a vantage point on the crest, Vinsen points, exclaiming, "That's it!  That's where your people are, Mr. Murcheson."  On the far side of the ridge, perhaps twice as far again as the group has already traveled, a clearing in the trees can be seen, with some sort of low structures dotted within it, although it's difficult to make out much more in the way of detail.

OOC: Awareness + Ingenuity + Keen Senses if applicable, all.

Coming to the end of the path, Smoke Alarm footed ahead and scrambled up the rise so she could get a good outlook, mayhaps before the noisy unwaring inbetweens got eyespied themselves. She outlooked down into the park with the little towers, squinting to eyespy things in the wide outdoors spaces,


OOC:
16:02, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 15 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 3,3.  awareness(4) + ingenuity(3) + Keen Senses(2).

Stanley looks in the direction Vinsen is pointing.
OOC: 22:04, Today: Stanley Newton rolled 14 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 1,5.  Awareness (4) + Ingenuity (4).

Trav resists the urge to scan the entire structure, and takes off her glasses, to *see* the place with just normal eyes. Pull your mind down, get small, see it as they do. There's beauty in small. Small doesn't mean lesser, it means a different perspective, She says to herself.

"Are they being held against their will, or abused? Or are they simply stuck?"

OOC:
19:14, Today: The Traveller rolled 20 using 2d6+11 with rolls of 6,3.  Awareness+Ingenuity (8+3)
This message was last edited by the player at 00:14, Sun 10 Mar 2019.

With a bit of time to look, everyone can finally make out moving figures down ahead of them --clearly people, and there's no reason to think they aren't the Hecate Station crew as Vinsen has suggested.  The Traveller, taking a more holistic view, notes the organization and arrangement of the buildings, and the wide, cleared spaces surrounding them -- likely cultivated fields of some sort, which begs all sorts of questions given the makeup of the vegetation here.  It's clear, though, that this is a community if one formed out of necessity and circumstance.

As Smoke Alarm foots ahead of the others, her sharp ears pick up a high-pitched humming, somewhere in the trees above her.

'Ware trees! There's hummy-birds or buzzy-bees, or mayhaps electricky stuff up there.' Smoke alarmed the others as she footed back and outlooked up into the branches, trying to eyespy whatever was making the noise. She'd never eyespied trees that needed to be plugged in before.

The Traveller is astounded at this place. "This is an easel, finger painting but if a child could finger paint facsimiles of what blind creation has manifested. Look at this! It's like a digital sketch or study of what an actual world would be like. It's fascinating and beautiful. Whimsical! Cultivated fields! Crops made of math. I don't know quite what to say." She turns and surveys the entire thing in delight, as multiple tracks in her brain light up. The cosmos never ceases to amaze. She hopes she can meet whoever made all of this. She's not even using her glasses or sonic, wanting to understanding this in an unmediated manner.

Of course, she's oblivious to the buzzing.

OOC: Claiming an SP for Curious, being dumbfounded by the surroundings. That should put me at 6 SP atm.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:32, Wed 13 Mar 2019.

"Good to see people moving down there." Stanley says. "Maybe Kalath is there as well."

Smoke Alarm sees it up in the branches of the trees: a little hovering thing, of a yellow metallic color, with four buzzing whirlyblades and way too many eyes.  It's clearly another kind of flying cleaner, which only makes the Architect bells ring louder in her head; it seems like the TARDIS can hardly go anywhere anymore that doesn't have something like that.

'Ware cleaners!' Smoke Alarm yelped automatically, whipping out her arrowgun to point at the thing. It had surprised her, it looked just like the crabby Pool Cleaner back in Paradise Towers but flying, and it was loitering and outlooking and hiding in the tree like it was up to no good.


OOC: Attack phase!

On seeing Smoke Alarm go for a weapon, the flying cleaner plummets a few feet until it's out of the foliage of the trees, dips and angles itself, and accelerates away from the Kang!

OOC: It won't get out of range of Smoke before she has a chance to get off a shot; otherwise it is going to move, then dodge.

OOC: Its been so long (a regeneration ago in fact) since we did combat. Trav will go on the melee phase and thing give this thing some math sword action.

'No ball-games.' Rolling out from under the tree, Smoke whipped up her arrowgun, leading the flying cleaner thru the sight. 'No fly posts.' She squeezed the trigger and let fly a pointy metal dart, right into its whirly blades! 'No outgoing!'


OOC: I'll try to stop it flying away, by pinning it to a tree or blocking the blades.
13:38, Today: Smoke Alarm rolled 20 using 2d6+12 with rolls of 2,6. coordination(5) + marksman(3) + AoE(2) + Crack Shot(2).

At Smoke's warning, Stanley takes a quick glance at the drone thing and decides he should leave the fighting to Smoke and Trav. He heads for cover behind one of the trees, motioning for Vinsen and Murcheson to follow him.

The buzz-bot dives towards the trees, but Smoke Alarm's bolt flies true and strikes with a resounding PTANG!!  Its dive transforms summarily into a crash, and the drone bounces twice off the turf before rolling end over end to a halt.

OOC:
22:08, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Flybot, rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 1,6.  Dodging Smoke Alarm: Awareness(4) + Coordination(4).

Smoke does 4 damage for a bolt, and the thing hasn't got that much Strength to take it.  In some way it is disabled but not destroyed per your intention.

'Icehot!' Smoke Alarm whooped, then ran across the carpet-grass after it, before it had even crashed into the floor. As she footed up, she aimed her reloaded arrowgun at it, until she was sure the cleaner was not about to fly up again. It was still making little buzzy noises, wasn't outgoing anywhere. Holstering her arrowgun, Smoke bent and picked it up. There weren't any rubbish bins she could eyespy, so she carried it back to Traveller and the sciencists. 'Mayhaps you can show-and-tell something from it?'

And out comes the sonic. "What are you, little buzzy friend? Sorry Smoke Alarm had to do that to you."

OOC: Ingenuity+Tech?
01:44, Today: The Traveller rolled 19 using 2d6+16 with rolls of 1,2.  2d6+Ingenuity 8+Technology 6+Sonic 2 - analyze bee drone.

This message was last edited by the player at 05:45, Sun 17 Mar 2019.

The flying bot is interesting, almost of a piece with the trees and other life that Trav has been studying.  It has a sort of a fluid design to it: its circuits and components seem more hand-crafted than assembled from parts, using analog rather than digital systems, even though the materials aren't out of the ordinary and the motors and electronics are perfectly ordinary in function.  It's not surprising to discover that the robot has a transmitter for relaying data from its video and audio pickups.

'It's an eyespy, isn't it?' Smoke Alarm wondered, outlooking closely as Traveller opened up the flying cleaner. 'It was an outlook in its hide-in tree.'

"Hm. Very old school. All analog, like something I'd make if I were on a particular kind of hobby kick. Whoever made these things probably now knows we've shot their toy down, we should go and apologize. Come on!"

In reply to The Guardian (msg # 9):

She looked around quickly, looking for something to throw at the device.

"'Ware sorcerous devices!"

OOC: Sorry about the shoddy post; just trying to get it out there and active again.

"Felicia" yelps and backs away from Kalath, stumbling and going down on her rump.  "Er?" she blurts.  The man comes to her side and holds an open palm out, as if to ward off Kalath, his eyes fixed the newcomer's spear.

OOC: We can certainly declare that there are rocks here, if you want.  They'd probably be of the same designed-looking nature as everything else, except for the people.

She frowned as she grabbed a rock, it seemed wrong but.. she hurled and threw it towards the device like-thing, hoping to bring it down - or at least make others see it.

OOC: 22:40, Today: Kalath rolled 17 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 6,3.  Co-ordination + marksmanship.

The stone is weirdly regular and smooth, but it certainly flies true enough.  It strikes the flying thing a glancing blow, and it veers out from cover.  It pitches down, and its rotors kick in, accelerating away from Kalath.

OOC: 23:04, Today: The Guardian, for the NPC Flybot, rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 2,5.  Dodging Kalath: Awareness(4) + Coordination(4).

That'll be half Kalath's Strength damage.  The flybot is dinged but not downed.