Unsure, the collective stays back is it is neither strong nor hearty. It does drop a rock into it's sling, preparing to launch it on aid of the others.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Tue 02 Nov 2021.

As the party advances up the path towards the ship and her two metallic defenders, other debris becomes noticeable.

Bone.

The path is littered with bone fragments, less reflective than the brass casings but obvious as they drew nearer.  The corpses of dozens of creatures... rather, the shattered skeletal remains... lie between them and the murderbots.

Mallador has never seen such things before, having missed the combat earlier, but he finds the casings jingle and clink when he lifts them together.

Mawr boosts his strength using his mutant powers, and with a rush, runs into one of the robot guardians.  It's surprisingly easy to shove over; it spins and topples with a clattering of metal and then a smashing as it careens down the cliffside to one side of the path.

The other does not react.

"Shall we do them all, just to be safe, or is there anything of them that might be useful?"

Mawr pushes the 2nd one off.

Spot begins to nose through some of the bone piles.

"Spot, no!"

"Oh, wow. Well done, Mawr!"

"Doesn't look like they were alive anymore. Still, we're safer now."

Mallador attempts to push on the 2nd one, but it's HEAVY.  He strains, but then Mawr lumbers over and easily pushes it off the cliff, smashing and clattering into shattered metal on its way down.

Spot, meanwhile, has found what appears to be a human femur and is chomping on it happily.

Stylus, somewhat in a daze, didn't watch these events play out ... his attention seemed drawn to, and held by, the door in the big boat's side.
Looking down again at the book in his hands, he drew out the white rectangle.

Somehow, he knew that it and this place were connected.
But, he hadn't yet figured out how.    But he was thinking hard.
If it helps with moving the story on, here is an Intelligence Check, by me:
- rolled 10 using 1d20.

There were numbers and letters printed on one edge of one side.  They were small, and old, but he attempted to read them out aloud ... as though that might be a password to be spoke*.



                      * 'Speak Friend, and Enter'  sort of thing

Dusting off his hands as if to suggest he had completed the task, or at least helped, Mallador watches Stylus, and hopes that with whatever he is doing, he has success.

Nic tried to wrestle the bone away from Spot with a look of distaste on his (invisible) face, but only half-heartedly as he was much more interested in what Stylus was doing.

"Okay, how do we get inside?"

My usual apologies for pacing and tardiness, gang.

IC:

Stylus spoke the words aloud to the steadfast metal door.  The empty sentinel spots where the murderbots had stood showed a clean spot, but otherwise everything was covered in dirt and debris, evident of the ages.

Then there was a slow thrumm sound from somewhere along the massive hull facing them.  Soft, not booming, but noticeable.

A portion of the wall, near the door, about chest height, slid open to reveal... strange controls.  There was a staticky voice then, and finally it became coherant.

"Stiles, Andrew J. ... Lieutenant... closest vocal match... files corrupted... please insert identicard." The voice was stiff and mechanical sounding.

Among the controls, a horizontal slit illuminated, standing out.  It seemed the right size to fit the card in Stylus' hand...
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:57, Sat 20 Nov 2021.

The collective just stands in awe of what is happening as nothing like this was natural. A section on his leg ooo's in surprise causing another section of his arm to chuckle before the rest shushed the other parts.

Nic braces for an anticipated wave of pain.

Stylus looked at the card in his hand.   The one that he'd just read the numbers from.
Then, he looked at the horizontal slit that had illuminated in the control panel before him.

With a shrug, he turned the card edgewise, and slipped it into the slit.

For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then there is a flash of blinking lights, and a hum.  And deep within the monolithic ship, a CLUNG of moving metal.

A puff of dirt and dust flies from the edges and the seam of the massive doorway... and it slides open as if by magic, grinding slowly with the weary sound of ages as the titanic metal doors part.

Darkness within... and a waft of long-stale air.

As the Abyss opened wide before him, so did Stylus' eyes.

When the magic metal movement clanged into its open position, Stylus turned to look wide-eyed at his companions.
Then, turning his attention back to the mechanical slit, he attempted to retrieve the 'very awesomely magical card'.

Impressed at the entire process, Mallador sniffed at the stale air. Staring into the darkness, he stands there a bit uncertain.

"Anyone have a light they can shine in there?"

Nic crouches down next to his dog, relieved that nothing had attacked them yet.

"Can you see anyone in there, Spot?"

"I have a light," Desi said.  She knelt, rummaged in her pack, and quickly produced and lit a torch.  The fluttering flame brightened the way.

Stylus fiddled with the panel and - either through his efforts, random chance or pure luck - it slid the card back out from the slot he'd inserted it to, allowing him to reclaim it.

Desi lit a torch, and that provided some light in the gloomy doorway, but it didn't penetrate far... just far enough to reveal a truly cavernous room of some kind beyond, with structures of metal on either side of the doorway.

At Nic's request, Spot leaned forward and blinked his many eyes into the darkness.  Nic knew Spot could see very well in the dark.  The young Eye Dog's tail wagged and he barked to announce his presence to the horrible threats he was sure lay within.

None responded.

Glad for the light, Mallador strained to find any detail he could comprehend in the shadowy cavern before him. Now that they had arrived, he was reticent to actually enter. He hoped someone else would break the tension and step inside first, he knew he didn't have the courage to be that person himself.

Stylus thanked the metal panel, "for giving the ... this thing back' in a stuttered, unconfident manner ... unsure if he should or not, but obviously unwilling to offend the great machina.

As others began filtering unsurely into the machine's belly, Stylus found the courage to join them ... uncertainly.

"Okay, friends, let us proceed into the darkened area.  Stay close, but  be wary.  We don't yet know what we face."

Mawr steps into the barely lit area.

Nic, feeling reassured by Spot's brave stance as much as the bulk of the giant bear, stepped in to follow, Spot by his side.

Nervously following behind, Mallador's eyes dart to every shadow.