OOC: I'm not sure, I thought I'd just treat it as a kind of armour reducing the damage, and factored that into the 1 damage above (I figured there should be some risk). But yeah, an extra +2 to Survival (arctic) sounds good. You pass.

"Good eyes. We have company. Should we alert the base, or do you want to find out who they are and what they want first? I'm no good in a fight, but can help you out with the conditions if you wish."

The Ice Warrior was strangely non-commital. He was thinking carefully.

07:05, Today: Tarys rolled 9 using 2d6+6 with rolls of 2,1. Strength(3) + Survival(1) + Arctic Gear(2).

Unsurprisingly, Tarys tanks the roll.  So I guess that will be me spending a story point to not suck.  Did we reset the ones we spent in the prologue?
This message was last edited by the player at 12:08, Mon 27 July 2015.

"Yeah, we should notify the others," Bluetooth replied to Stirix, "just in case we don't survive this encounter."

As he spoke, he crouched down slightly to present a smaller target and moved away from Stirix.

"Don't want us to get taken out at the same time. They don't look like monsters, but then some of the worst monsters look like normal people."

"Can you tell what kind of armor they are wearing?"

"Sure," Trace said to Red, "Mr Frosty could do with some company." Before then though, there was still some work to do. "Maybe later though."

He took a small radio from a suit pocket. "This is Trace, I've hooked up the heaters and lights in the tents. Do you still want me to go out and put the ground sensors out?" The sensors were basically metal spikes that were driven into the ground at various points some distance from the camp. The top contained a radio transmitter and a light beacon, and the bottom contained a seismic sensor that sent pulses of sound into the ground. Arrange in a ring around the camp, they would work together to get a picture the area below the ice, and monitor the changes in its structure as they melted through it. Hopefully giving them some early warning if any geysers or vents were about to open up beneath them.

Trace:

Ortega squawked back, his voice entirely lacking in concern. 'Ah, excellent, very well done... No, no, don't worry the ground sensors at this stage. They'll interfere with Mr Kent's scans. You can install them when he returns. I want you to keep shifting the gear to the tents, There's a finds table here we need in Tent 3. Over.'

Sky Light pouted, then pulled up her mask. She slapped Trace on the shoulder. 'Race you back!' The Red Kang turned and sprinted through the automatic door and out into the snow.

Axander & Tarys & Bluetooth & Stirix:

The two time-travellers endured their hike through the snow and stiff winds. Axander, who'd lived through some British winters, fared well enough, though Tarys, Capitol-raised, was less experienced and found the cold creeping into her limbs, despite her polymesh. She shivered and was slowed, and would have to get in front of a heater to shake it.

After about 15 minutes of walking, they'd come upon the grey domes of the camp, rising out of the heaped up snow, beside a spaceship with its engines being steadily angled downward.

Out the front, they saw a welcoming committee: a clawed felinoid in cold weather gear, furs upon furs; and a massive green armoured reptilian.

*

Stirix and Bluetooth watched the pair approach: they looked like humans, or humanoids, a male and a female, clad in semi-metallic coats that presumably kept out the cold. But they were unarmed and unarmoured.


OOC: I sped you all along to get the groups together. So, say hello. If you like, roll Knowledge checks, Difficulty 12 to ID Stirix as a Martian, and 18 to ID Bluetooth as a Rakshasa (being much more obscure).

"Greetingsssssss." The Ice Warrior was cautious; leaving the more full introductions up to Bluetooth - he was after all, head of Security. Stirix had tagged along to make sure he didn't freeze to death.

It was also very hard not to make his sibilance sound menacing. It inspired many other humanoids fight or flight reaction; so he didn't push it.

THe fact that, due to honor, he was still dressed in a full Ice Warrior's paraphernalia, the armor, the helmet, the nothing but eyes to be seen, possibly didn't help either.

Grinning, Trace pulled on his respirator mask and followed Sky out the door. He ran straight into a barely packed snowball that left him stumbling as he fumbled trying to clear the "snow" from his goggles. "No fair cheating." He yelled out to the laughing Sky as she easily tore ahead.

With the last dregs of slush cleared from his goggles, TRace was about to run after Sky when he noticed 4 figures standing at the edge of the camp. Two of which he didn't recognise. Stealthily, well as stealthily as one could when crunching across snow, he snuck up to the side of the nearest dome and peered round at the newcomers, curious as to who, and what, they were.

His first excited hopes that they were natives, thawed from their millennia of frozen stasis, were dashed when they appeared distressingly human.

Though she feels sapped and numbed by the trek across the ice, Tarys forces herself to stand tall and holds her voice steady.  "Indeed.  Greetings."  She gives the short, ritual bow of equal to equal to the Martian: she has dealt with them before in her journeys, and knows how important it is to establish the proper social relationship straight off.

(She places the felinoform's species as Rakshasa.  Which is strange, because she can't recall that she ever learned this name in her training, nor as part of any briefing or in the course of any mission.  But these faces are coming into focus as familiar, imprinted on her consciousness from that shattering vision back in the TARDIS: perhaps this is a detail of foreknowledge coming "back" to her?  She gives a surreptitious hand signal to Axander, hoping that he will pick up the implied play along.)

"We're sorry to impose upon you," Tarys says.  "Our vessel may have suffered from a severe navigational fault.  The drive deposited us in this system and we've been forced to make a landing here.   We didn't pick up any signs of other ships in this system, and we've had to make a difficult hike just to get here."  Indicating Axander, she adds, "My name is Tarys, and this is Axander."

OOC:

22:52, Today: Tarys rolled 15 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 6,1. IDing a Martian: Ingenuity(5) + Knowledge(3).
22:52, Today: Tarys rolled 20 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 6,6. IDing a Rakshasa: Ingenuity(5) + Knowledge(3).
22:53, Today: Tarys rolled 18 using 2d6+8 with rolls of 4,6. Reroll for Unlucky: Ingenuity(5) + Knowledge(3).
This message was last edited by the player at 01:50, Sat 01 Aug 2015.

Sky Light stopped a short distance ahead of Trace, also spotting the two new arrivals, and watching them warily. 'I'll keep outlook.' She ran ahead to the ship and up the cargo ramp, waving her arms and shouting 'Outlooks we got visitors.' at those inside the cargo bay. Then she turned, bounded onto the rail, sprang up to grab the wing, and swung herself on top with gymnastic agility. Soon she was clambering up the hull, drawing her crossbow. Perched on top, sheltered by a vent, she had a high, dangerous "outlook".

In the cargo bay, in the middle of sifting through sonic trowels, Ortega looked bewildered at Hali after Sky Light's report. 'What?'

*

'I'll be right out.' Borys had commed back to Bluetooth and Stirix.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:40, Sun 02 Aug 2015.

[02:14, Today: Axander rolled 19 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 5,5. Ing+Know for Rakshasa.
02:14, Today: Axander rolled 12 using 2d6+9 with rolls of 1,2. Ing+Know for Martian.

Well that was unexpected.]

The plan had been to talk with these people the whole time. Unfortunately, that was as far as Axander's plan had gone. Tarys seems to have some inkling of how to deal with these people, and so he follows her example when she bows. Being the clever boy he is, he also lets her do the talking. What impresses Axander most is that the things she says sound completely reasonable and plausible, and he quickly realizes they're completely true. His first thought had been to lie to them outright, as he'd been doing for years. This is much better.

Bluetooth was too busy 'stalking' these strange apparitions to bother saying anything. If they weren't hostile, he could talk to them later.

Stirix's simple greeting, however, was enough to prompt a response from them that was... non-hostile.

"We detected no other ships on this rogue world, and none nearby," he responded.

Well, at least they weren't armored, but it was clear that the cold was getting to them. He could see no benefit in withholding his name, nor any benefit they could gain from knowing it.

"I am Bluetooth. Our tents are heated. You may warm yourself there. Perhaps then I may repair your malfunctioning ship."

"A rogue planet, you say," Tarys says.  "I wonder if that could cause interference with a hyperspace jump."  Tarys lets Bluetooth's comment about detecting ships drift discreetly by.

"But the offer is most kind of you.  I hope that we don't disrupt your work here any more than strictly necessary."  If her visions meant anything in the larger picture, then strict necessity might be very disruptive indeed, but....  "Because clearly your expedition is meant to be here for an important purpose.  Do you mind my asking what it is?"

There's a brief moment of hesitation when Bluetooth offers warmth. Axander glances at Tarys, then happily begins toward comfort.

"Heated tents! Many thanks, friend Bluetooth. We do greatly appreciate the hospitality, and we'll certainly stay out of the way as best we can." The offer of help gets no reply. Maybe he'd just prefer to talk it over after tea? Even in the protective gear he's wearing, the young man is clearly having discomfort with his hands, trying in futility to rub them together for warmth through the gloves. At the moment, his top priority is escaping the biting cold.

"You'll have to ask the professor about that," Bluetooth replies to Tarys. "Some sort of ruins were detected below the ice. Not my area of expertise, so I didn't really pay attention."

Stirix, naturally, didn't look ill at ease in the cold, at all. He just watched the other two, and shook his head.

"Oh very well. These two will clearly die if left out here alone, and we can't have that. The commander is on his way out, but they can't be left exposed like this for too long."

"Very well.  We'll wait to speak to your superiors, then.  And thank you, again."

Once Tarys and Axander have been shown to one of expedition's tents and left there to warm up, Tarys fumbles the temporal trace locator from her gear with stiff fingers.  "Here.  See if you can get any sort of reading on this.  I think it's going to be important that we get a proper look into these ruins they're investigating.  There's something I saw during my... episode... that I think is going to be important."  She starts methodically working life back into her extremities, like an athlete, drawing deep breaths to oxygenate her blood.  "The Martian, the Raksasha... I remember seeing them in the vision, and I think they're going to be important in reaching our goal.  There may be one or two others here, as well."

At Axander's look, she adds, "I know how that sounds, but please, try to trust me on this.  My... condition, when it shows me things, they often turn out to be important.  We must be careful, but if the expedition leader is resistant to giving us access to any information... Well.  We must take what measures are necessary."

The look doesn't abate at her explanation, though an eyebrow slowly raises. Axander's hands have no expertise with the trace locator, so he simply holds it and gets used to its weight and shape for the moment. A flicker of that fear she'd seen in the young man's face pulled at his eyes for an instant, before it was replaced with something cold and angry. His voice doesn't carry the anger, but it does have a resolve she hasn't yet heard from him.

"We are not murdering innocent people. That is absolutely not an option, not even to save the Doctor. From what I've learned about him, he would not be proud of that choice, and neither would I. If the being in charge here won't help us, we'll find another way. There are always alternatives." With that said, he turns his attention to the device and starts fiddling with it. His voice loses the edge to it, and simply becomes a distant mumble, trying to identify what the components are doing.

"Proximity to the temporal disturbance should get us a better lock on the signal, once I can figure out how to even read this blasted thing. The Doctor designed this? Hard to believe it even functions... That was a Martian, you said? Human fiction describes them very differently. Though it was speculative, so I suppose the drastic differences can be forgiven. Same author wrote an early work of time travel fiction, if you can believe it..."

Tarys continues to try to counteract her hypothermia symptoms, unperturbed by Axander's response.

She keeps her voice low.  "I hope you realize that I'm not simply using euphemisms to spare your feelings.  I have no intention of killing anyone.  Unlike some people in the Gallifreyan Command I could name, I do not mean to become the Daleks to defeat the Daleks.  Besides, if what I believe about these people is true, violence against their leader, or employer, would be counter-productive in the extreme."

Tent:

Bluetooth and Stirix escorted Axander and Tarys into one of the sturdy domed-tents, out of the bitter wind and the worst of the cold. They gave the two travellers a little time to warm and recover, and to confer, while they fetched those in charge and anyone else who cared to eavesdrop.

Tarys soon warmed up in front of the heater, restoring feeling to her cold, numbed extremities, and stopping the shivering. [No more Coordination penalty.]

It wasn't long before someone in charge came to meet them, stalking through the iris and grumbling irritably. '—too much work to do, and all my crew off playing archaeologist—' Seeing the travellers, he pulled off his mask, hood, and goggles to regard them, revealing a grizzled, tanned, and balding older man. 'Oh. Hi. The name's Borys, captain of the Yermak Maru out there. I heard you jumped here by mistake and had to set down?' He frowned, too experienced a space captain to accept the story at face value. 'You're a long way off the spacelanes – by the Rim, between Outer and Perseus.'

Trace followed Bluetooth and Stirix as they escorted the newcomers to one of the tents. He stayed outside, trying to overhear what they were talking about as the they waited for the others. But they were speaking too quietly and Trace was unable to make out their words.

He was about to see if he could use his Scanner Gauntlet to amplify the words. But before he could do so he spotted Captain Borys approaching the tent so he changed his mind and joined the others in the tent.

Pulling down his hood and removing his mask, Trace stood in the corner and listened.

Axander perks up as more of the expedition crew arrives. The mass of wires and doodads gets set aside as he stands to shake the captain's hand in greeting. He's removed the hood and goggles, leaving his glasses the only face adornment.

"Ah, Captain! A pleasure to meet you. I'm Axander, this is Tarys. We've come a long way, and our navigation system wasn't working how we'd hoped. This planet is quite far off the beaten path, isn't it? We're lucky to have found anyone here! ...Did you say your ship is the Yermak? The Yermak Maru? That's quite an old pair of references, isn't it? Fitting, though, considering the climate."

Tarys gives Axander a look which she hopes Borys will read as long-suffering patience.  Then she turns her full attention on Borys, her voice rising and falling in even, measured tones.

"Yes, I'm afraid that we are a rather long way off the beaten track, Captain.  Perhaps I should explain a little more clearly.

"Axander, here, is a student on sabbatical, a fellow of a highly exclusive academy -- I doubt you'd have even heard of it," she says.  "I am more of a security specialist.  An expediter.  I've taken on the responsibility for keeping him safe and guiding him to the proper destinations, and I'm afraid I'm made a mess of that.  Sometimes, that task needs to be a question of advising one's charges when they are choosing to take risks that are better avoided, or investigating anomalies that are outright hazards.  Have you not found that to be true, Captain?

"We do not mean to be a bother to your crew or this expedition.  We will need to make a proper inspection of our vessel and determine whether it can be made spaceworthy.  If that does not prove possible, than I must beg the use of your communications link to attempt to summon assistance.

"But I do believe we will need some time to recover before we can attempt that journey.  Captain, you have my gratitude for simply allowing us that time."

As she reiterates and embellishes the basic theme that she originally laid out to the pair that first met them, Tarys exerts a mild psychic pressure upon the captain, attempting to lull his suspicions and gain a passive compliance from him.  If a primary authority figure on this expedition accepts their presence, she hopes that most of the rest will fall into line, at least until she and Axander can investigate a bit.  She's not pushing this far or fast, because she knows that other eyes are watching and too blatant an approach will certainly rouse others' suspicions.

'Your transponder's not working either?' Borys supplied, returning Axander's shaken hand. He eyeed the weird gadget before deciding it couldn't possibly be a weapon, or in any way useful. 'That's the name she had when I bought her.' he said, uncuriously.

He listened to Tarys with clear relief, sharing the long-suffering look. 'Another academic, huh? I know the feeling. There must be a convention on.' he said, a wry grin breaking out. His questions about their unheralded arrival faded with Tarys's words. 'Alright, you have our assistance, as per spacefaring law. I can have my mechanic and technician look over your ship, if you like, and can give you a tow if your ship is small enough... But we're real busy here, and on the clock, so you might have to wait a while.'

'Until then, well, is your student interested in archaeology—?'

Just then, the iris burst open again and another man barged into the tent. 'What's this about a student?' he demanded suspiciously, pulling off his gear to show an aggrieved human man in his mid-fifties. He turned the full force of his territorial academia on Axander. 'Who sent you? Mars University? The Braxiatel Collection? Listen, this is my dig-site! I won't have trench-jumpers!'