"Not the dead's usual MO." He observes after clicking to tightbeam, moving forward into the abandoned living room.  "Moving forward.  Sounds like Flametongue was trying to insert a commspike."

A common item for boarders, commspikes are one part spear, one part trans-bulkhead communication array.

"Now we can only hope they're going the right direction too."

One of the faucets is on, dripping water quietly.

"We're off the map," Grunt agreed as he moved to turn off the faucet. If any remote terminals are accessible he'll give them a Hail Mary pass but suspects the digital junctions will be as selected as the physical ones. "I suppose we just have to see how spooked they are. At least if they jump we won't have time to notice."

There's a single remote terminal at the side of the living room.  It's blinking, asking for an authorization code.

"And if they decide to cleanse us it'll probably be the right thing too,"  Mastiff says matter-of-factly, checking the room for anything that might be hiding.  "On the bright side.  If we survive.  We may have to start making a new manual."

((Hacking attempt via Wu Wei.  There are varying difficulties.  Getting under 20 is probably a bad thing.))

(10, 10, 8, 6, 5, 3 & 3
River: 1-1

Wu Wei of 30, will take Interesting Times)

"Pretty much. If we survive, or even just get some information to them, it's a bonus at this point," Grunt agreed as he moved to inspect the terminal and hoped it hadn't been kept up to date as he worked to pry his way deeper into things.

Most of the back protocols have been unfortunately updated, it seems by whoever was the sysadmin of the Royet.  But the old Dragon-Blooded passcodes still work, and he's in-

Wait a minute.  Someone else is using the system too.  He's got a shared desktop.

They've opened up a new word processing document.  He's no linguist.  But there's a thousand pages, or more, getting typed into the system and they're none the wiser.  There's no sense of punctuation or paragraphs, just... solid blocks of text.

I i'an su Bissphas I i'an suu Ars I uus ar i'ass si'as uhr asri'ahur I'n pharri'a phus ilai I ruu ssaiph ilai I'n pharri'a phus ilai I'n suhhu i'a ssi'auhr, I sass i'ass sussuhr' a nis rsui'an Ir su Ci'asi'asss si'arrus i'ars su sirsil thui'arr, i'ail I ruus zi'ar saas zuhs Ji'anur Dui'ar, is I u i'arphuhr' saiph Wuhs nil ni'ar Juhn Bui'an I rzuhrph saz suhhu i'a suhnz Bi'ash uhr uuhphsil-ruh, sur I zi'ar ruuuhr' i'a rsuhrh Bis raz I'n insu i'ars I si'ar arsil suhrh Aais Nuz Ossui'arr i'ars saru thina rsuhnz Sa i'arh ra wiursuharr i'ars I suss ra suhur I phas uhph ass zizuhsr i'ars saasras uilur I'n ar su suhrh, uh ilai hraz zi'as I nui'ar Ars su szusu-rsuz zsaphsi'an saissr's huuz nu ssui'ar  'Ci'airu I'n su Bissphas, ilai irsusrsi'ars Tu uhssuphuhsuhni'asu rar a ni'ar Tu T-O-P sa su D-O-G, as su P-O-T sa su G-O-D  Ars I'n ssuhzzuhr' Ur, i-i, ri'auhs I'n ssuhzzuhr' I i'an su Bissphas I i'an suu Ars I uus ar i'ass si'as uhr asri'ahur I'n pharri'a phus ilai I ruu ssaiph ilai  I'n pharri'a phus ilai A sas a zuazsu zahu ir i'ars si'as'r i'assuhphs Bis zur I rsi'ass zahuhr' i'ash suil phus i'ass izsuhphs i Yai si'ar's si'az zuhs su ni'arsus, rar Sa ruhs ilais i'arr sazr 'asu I si'ars ilai aru 'Ci'airu I'n ra phsui'aril ilai si'ar si'ass nu nis Ars I uus i'a suhsssu Hi'arh sirruhrph ssaiph nil saas I zi'arri'a saas su zasss zuhs nil szuhrsus saiphsr Yai si'ar uhs i'ass si'ail, is I si'ar's u aiphs U, sui'ah uhs iz, sus'r suhu aru ar I phassi'a phus rus sa pha i'ars sis su si'azr Sa I phsi'a nil Wi'ashni'ar is uasu I sis I pha uuhrs su phi'asi'aphu i'ars uhsu uhs iz 'Ci'airu I'n su Bissphas, ilai irsusrsi'ars? Tu uhssuphuhsuhni'asu rar a ni'ar Tu T-O-P sa su D-O-G, as su P-O-T sa su G-O-D Ars I'n ssuhzzuhr' Hi, i, ri'auhs I'n ssuhzzuhr' suhsr's ilai hraz? I i'an su Bissphas I i'an suu Ars I uus ar i'ass si'as uhr asri'ahur I'n asri'ahur Pr, ilai i'auhr's rasuhr' Yui'a, ilui'a, ilui'a Canu ar phus 'un iz Canu ar phus 'un iz Canu ar phus 'un iz I i'an su Bissphas I i'an suu Ars I uus ar i'ass si'as uhr asri'ahur, I i'an su Bissphas I i'an suu Ars I uus ar i'ass si'as uhr asri'ahur I phus i'a uusuhrph a zui'asu san i'a saz, rsaz uhph Ar I ruhs uhr nil si'auhs i'ars zi'ass suhu pha il Turu saiphsr I i'au, I si'ar's nass su rurru Tsaiph su asurs a nil nuhrs, suil'su i'ass zi'ars surru Basr i'ars si'auhrus uhr su aisus si'arsr Ars i'as suhnur ilai saiss ri'ail I'n ais a i'ars I'n uhr i'a i'ars a philzruhur, zu'su ar su sir Eusil suhnu si'as zi'azus uhsr nil sarphiu Ars ranusuhnur uhs ruunr ra ass Wur nil uuhrr i'asu zazzuhr' i'ars I'n assuhr' i'a ruhru I i'an su Bissphas, ilai irsusrsi'ars Ars usu uhr nil i'ars uhr nil ni'arsus zsi'ar, i I'n pharri'a phus ilai I ruu ssaiph ilai I'n pharri'a phus ilai I ruu ssaiph ilai
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:10, Sat 25 May 2019.

"Mastiff, I need a second pair of eyes," Grunt said, watching to see how quickly text was being added. The content made no sense but maybe he could get a rough gauge of when it started.

Going by the rate... maybe an hour or two ago.  The stuff is coming out slowly.  It is, for all the world, like someone hunting and pecking at a keyboard while running something through a translator.  This is arduous work but it's going at a pretty steady rate.

"Looking but priority's to watching our back,"  Mastiff tells him.  "Looks like a whole shitload of gibberish to me.  Not Dead activity."

This is well-known.  The Undead prefer to do their writing in Latin or English.

"Might be a tech-god going nuts.  Some of these ships have one bound to the reactors like the fighters do."

"So this started between one and three hours back. It's a shared desktop. If I do anything they'll know. Worth poking the face eating horror?" Grunt asked Mastiff, "My vote is 'yes' for the record but both of us in this particular mess."

"My default's shoot first ask questions later.  You're the expert at this stuff."  Mastiff tells him, "Just let me switch my bullets first to AP... anti-dead rounds ain't gonna mean shit."

Mags swapped and Mastiff gives him the nod.

"Well, here goes plan 'Poke it with a Stick'," Grunt replied as he interrupted the word processor with a 'hello' before trying to access any cameras as quickly as possible. Maybe he could get a look at this thing.

The word processing... whatever... stops abruptly.  In response to his 'hello'...

ussa
ussa
ussa
ussa
hello
hello
hello
ussa
hello
hello
ussa
hello
ussa
hello
ussa
hello

While it's typing he's able to flip to the cameras- he sees nothing in their room.  The cameras in the 'infected' portion of the Royet are completely dead.

"Knew it wouldn't be that easy," Grunt muttered, trying to see what systems he could control. The communication array would be excellent, or even just opening and closing hatches.

Still, he fired off another bit of text.

'Callsign, Grunt'.

Ci'assruhphr, Gsirs
Ci'assruhphr, Gsirs
Ci'assruhphr, Gsirs
Ci'assruhphr, Gsirs
Callsign, Grunt
Callsign, Grunt
Callsign, Grunt
Ci'assruhphr, Gsirs

... and so on.  While- whatever it is- types, he moves to Systems.  Hmm.  Communication array is down, and it's BEEN down, but there's a few A/V files that look like crew logs.  Hatches are open throughout the bow section of the ship, but everything aft- where the engines are- is locked shut.  Or the computer says it's locked shut.

As he looks he sees other little things going on in the background, not just the word processor.  Files are being created and deleted, mostly text files, with strange characters for titles.  They're getting deleted faster than he can click.

"Here goes nothing," Grunt muttered as he had the files sent to the terminal and opened them, working on a system reset command once they've been retrieved.

The system reset is stopped dead, something's already apparently tried that and got fried as a result.  But the system log starts...

The woman is identifiable as Captain Handall, a grizzled woman with a mohawk and eyepatch, six feet by his judge, and possessing the lovely sort of charm that would make Amazonian warriors champ at the bit.  Captain Handall looks exhausted, sweaty.  He sees the pressure marks on her face and upper shoulders:  this is a woman who'd spent far too long in an ill-fitting environment suit.  An older model, if he's any judge.

"Handall Log 39.  Spent all day working on that roid, getting it hooked up.  New drill would be awesome if they had half an idea of what we do out here.  Sure, it'll go right through a rock and get out all the fissionables in a few minutes, and that's better than hours, but we just spent SIX hours positioning the damn thing.  Going by our previous tests once we start drilling into this bad boy we're going to be 3 hours into the hole."

She runs a hand through her moppy mohawk.

"Victor was acting kinda screwy too.  Took him four of those hours to get the rod into place.  Weird part was he claimed he was only gone for something like 30 minutes.  Bullshit, I had to go over and do it myself.  I think we're going to have to cut this little foray short.  Core might be pissy at us but we're getting a bit of the space madness if Victor's any judge."

She kisses at the video, less a sexual thing and more like a tradition- like it was her way of showing affection to the ship.

"Another six hours and maybe we'll be all good.  Then I'll make dinner for the crew.  Hope they like reconstituted apple pie.  We could use the morale boost.  Captain Handall out."

"There's apple pie on the table, man."  Mastiff observes.

Grunt checked the time stamps then shut things down. Not much he could do with the terminal for the moment.

"Looks like the only way is forward for now. If we can reach an outer section we'll try to open this can with the breaching charges," he told Mastiff, "I take point, you keep anything off my back. If it looks like we're going to be overwhelmed, well, you can make your decision but I plan to make the biggest mess possible."

Timestamp was, as far as he can tell, 19 hours before the Royet was found by Fleet.  There's a lot more videos he can check- that was just the most recent.  Judging by the frequency of the time stamps they had been checking out an asteroid field for a few days before settling on their target, because at some point the logs are quite sparse.

"Roger.  Let's get out of here,"  He informs Grunt.

As soon as they step away from the terminal they hear a sound reverberate through the Royet.  It doesn't come through the speakers, no. No... it sounds like it's in the room with them.  A horn, if Grunt is any judge, blown for an inhumanly long time.

"The FUCK."

"I hate when they decide to be narrative," Grunt yelled as he started heading for the hatch, "Only reason to blow a horn is if you're hunting something and it's easy to guess which part of that equation we are."

He's decided to think while moving as quickly as the two of them can reasonably clear entrances.

"Fuck fuck fuck!  Go!"

((Go ahead and make 3 init rolls.  You're gonna want high init + CG.  Mastiff will make the same results, to minimize rolls.  These will be contested by the hunters.))

Grunt holstered his shotgun and focused purely on speed, which he was blessedly good at and left wakes in the air behind him from the spent essence.


Uses Supreme Burst of Speed each round, 4 chi each time

Init 1: 8, 5, 5, 4, 3, 2 & 1
Init: 25 + 10 + 10 = 45 + 20 = 65
CG: 31 + 5 + 10 = 46 + 5 = 51, empty River
FoB: 18 + 15 + 10 = 43

Init 2: 6, 5, 5, 4, 3, 1 & 1
Init: 21 + 10 + 10 = 41 + 20 = 61
CG: 25 + 5 + 10 = 40 + 5 = 45
FoB: 16 + 15 + 10 = 41

Init 3: 10, 10, 7, 6, 5, 2 & 2
Init: 22 + 10 + 10 = 42 + 20 = 62
CG: 20 + 5 + 10 = 35 + 5 = 40
FoB: 17 + 15 + 10 = 42)

((Hunters:
6, 5, 5, 2, 2, 2, 1, 1 & 1.
*Init 32 + Footwork 20 + AB 10 = 62
*CG 31

9, 8, 8, 7, 7, 5, 4, 4 & 2.
*Init 28 + Footwork 20 + AB 10 = 58
*CG 27

10, 9, 7, 6, 5, 5, 5, 3 & 1.
*Init 35 + Footwork 20 + AB 10 = 65
*CG Fails, but that doesn't matter...

Attack R1:
8, 8, 5, 5, 4, 3, 3, 1 & 1
*Break Cover Ground 28 + Strike 20 + AB 10 = 58
*Attack 25 + Strike 20 + AB 10 = 55))

They're through the first door almost immediately, and just in time.  The doors slam open, and a raging horde of... humanoids... in metal armor spill out with impossible fluidity.  They're thin, graceful, almost cat-like, riding horses with mouths too wide and teeth too sharp.

"THE FUCK!"  Mastiff fires off into the horde.  It stops some but doesn't do much; he then focuses on firing behind him as he takes off in Grunt's wake, using the Air aspect's draft to try to keep pace, burning a ton of essence in the process.  Shots taken behind him seem to do little to stop the tide.  They're quick, almost always on their heels, until eventually they reach the hallway just before the bridge.  The door is shut, slammed tight, and that's enough for the graceful humanoids to reach them.  They dismount, drawing thin sharp blades of brittle glass and laughing with alien chattering.

Before Grunt can try to key the last pad, one throws his sword through the control panel.  The other advances on Mastiff and Grunt, trying to catch both in one sword-stroke with an impossibly long and thin sword.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:58, Tue 25 June 2019.

Grunt swung around, switching position with Mastiff as they weather the first wave of strikes. He took some scrapes but between his gear and training he kept everything important guarded. Unlike most he closes in as near to the horde as he can, not giving them room to aim their strikes properly, his own chant to invoke the swarm of butterflies shaped from volcanic glass to fill the narrow corridor.

(Blossom Harvest, Unarmed

Defense: 6, 5, 5, 5, 4, 3 & 3
Float: 3-3
Block: 35 + 5 + 10 = hits with 5 left

Attack: 10, 8, 8, 7, 6, 4 & 4
Attack (DoOB): 28 + 10 + 10 = 48, better dodged
Disrupt Strike (Hardiness): 24 + 10 +10 = 44)

((Mastiff defense:
10, 9, 6, 5, 3, 2 & 2
*Defense vs Strike 22 + Block 15 + AB 5 = 42 vs 55, takes a Ripple- no RR

Hunter defense:
10, 9, 9, 9, 6, 3, 3, 3 & 1
*Defense vs Butterflies 39 + Footwork 20 = 59 - 10 = 49 vs 58 (+Fears/Laughs);  2 Ripples
*Defense vs Disrupt 33 + Finesse 20 = 53 vs 54 (+Fears/Laughs); takes Strike Disrupt

Mastiff attack:
10, 8, 7, 7, 7, 5 & 4
*2 Chi:  Strike +10
*4 Chi:  Secondary Strike, SS is AOE
*Primary Strike 18 + Strike 15 + AB 5 = 38, Dodge -10
*Secondary Strike 37 + Strike 15 + AB 5 + EKF 10 = 67, Dodge -10

Hunter defense:
7, 7, 7, 6, 6, 5, 4, 2 & 1
*Defense vs Secondary Shots 37 + Dodge 20 = 57 - 10 = 47 vs 67, 3 Ripples
*Defense vs Primary 26 + Dodge 20 = 46 - 10 = 36 vs 38, a Ripple

6/9 ripples suffered))

Though the two take a cut from the crystalline blade, it's not enough to really harm a dedicated Dragon-Blooded!  And just like that they can see the weakness and illusions for what they are; the nameless horde are just nine creatures.

The narrow passageway works to Grunt and Mastiff's advantage.  The ensuing Cloud of Butterflies sprays out, catching the hunters and cutting down two of them in one fell swoop.  While they reel from the attack Mastiff aims over Grunt's head, firing first a single shot at a leader and then a spray of heavy automatic fire that cuts down another four in rapid succession.  That leaves only three of the humanoids left.

"Buy me four seconds!" Grunt yelled at Mastiff as he yanked the blade free of the panel and grabbed the internals, electricity sparking off his fingers, "And hope this tub is as cheap as I think!"

That would either work or not, regardless he's wading into things as soon as the last connection is bridged, lashing out with his fists and knees in a series of strikes that'd break most mortals bones if they tried to copy them. It was simple and messy, at considerable speed.

These were just hounds, and they'd done their job. He wanted a bulkhead between him and the hunters.

Blossom Harvest w/Unarmed
Init: 10, 10, 10, 6, 6, 6 & 3
FoB: 16 + 15 + 10 = 41
Init: 13 + 10 + 10 = 33
Repair Panel (Craft Wave) = 30 + 10 + 5 + 10 = 55, Interesting Times
Asses Hounds (Wu Wei) = 26 + 10 + 10 = 46, just trying to get a rough idea WTF they are

Attack: 10, 8, 7, 7, 5, 4 & 1
Strike: 27 + 5 + 10 = 42
Strike: 23 + 5 + 10 = 38, 3 chi
Both strikes count as AOE against Minions

((Mastiff Init R2:
10, 10, 10, 9, 7, 6 & 2
*Float 0-0
*Init 19 + 5 + 5 = 29

Hounds Go Last

Interesting times accepted, take a ChivJoss

Hounds Defense:
10, 6, 6, 5, 4, 4, 3, 2 & 2
*Defense vs Primary Strike 26 + 20 = 46 vs 42 + Laughs 5 = 47, 2 Ripples
*Defense vs Secondary Strike 24 + 20 = 44 vs 38 + Laughs 5 = 43, no dice

Mastiff Attack:
6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 & 1
*2 Chi:  Strike +10
*Strike 21 + Strike 15 + AB 5 + Strike 10 = 51

Hounds Defense:
9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 5, 5, 2 & 1
*Defense 35 + Dodge 20 = 55 - Dodge 10 = 45, 2 Ripples:  Gone))

The last connection bridges, alright, but it does so through Grunt's body.  The bulkhead shuts behind the remaining hounds and also arcs throughout the hallway.  Mastiff yelps as the shock goes through some of his clothes, singing him; Grunt is more or less immune.  The hounds are unprepared for the storm of fists.  Two go down just from the crackling electricity of Grunt's hits, with the last finally gunned down by a spastic burst of fire from Mastiff.

The purple and blue and green blood are all he needs to see.  Grunt, in earlier years, once trained against a few of White Arcing Lightning's goblins before in an ill-fated training exercise.  That little experiment had ended with more than the usual number of injuries and a fatality and was never repeated.  But he'd never forgotten the raw- if unrefined- power of her creations.  All strength, no subtlety, no flexibility... once their prey was cornered, the hounds had lost their strength.  Their point.

It's Fae.