Supercape
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The Red Rat Sound control! Thrumming in her head! And not just the computer lodged their. No, this caused for a modicum of caution and a pinch of smarts. She didn't want to fall subject to some bad beat. This time, she found a bag of salted peanuts. Yummy. But no time for snacks! Instead, she gave the bag a few robust taps with the handle of her gun, and stuffed the crushed remains into her ears. The world went dull and muted. Not as good as some ballistic industrial headphones, but better than my fingers! Armed with her aural-nut defences fully in place, she went to the mysterious closet. It seemed to be the source of distortions and head noise. And she was going to open it... Carefully, but open it still the same...
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Starshot "Refugees" concluded Starshot, aloud. "You find no quarrel with me, then" he said, trying to reassure. "But entering this side of the galaxy..." or was it further? Intergalactic travel was rare but not impossible..."without announcing yourselves, that will make people nervous. And nervous is not good, especially with a ship this side. How are they to know you as friend?" or indeed as enemy? He kept quite still. Movement wasn't wise unless called for. "And dragging a malign force behind you is not going to make you popular either" he added, perhaps a little bluntly. The last thing the galaxy needed was more war.
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Not for hire - to people he knows its available. Quantum drives at the ready, Luxury quarters spanking clean.
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I suspect Starshot is already in this but just giving the affirmation. He is more of a lone wolf (well, nearly) or leader character so I am not sure he would actually slot into the Praetorians. But he would have no issue working with them (...ish).
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Starshot "Good. You mean us no harm. We mean you no harm too" replied Starshot. Intergalactic diplomacy was not his forte, and he preferred to be sucinct in most matters. We mean you no harm for now.... "We ah...uh..." he pondered how to manage the situation. He was not tongue tied, but neither was he glib. He wished he knew what he was doing, but... lamentations on what might be was for fools who waited whilst the universe happened to them.... "We detected your ship in the area. Unknown..." He paused. He may as well be direct. "Unknown origin. Unknown intent. Unknown...well, to be truthful, we don't know anything about you. Can you enlighten us?"
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GM "But of course!" answered Lord Crane, quite happy of the company and the propositions. And so... Over tea (with an optional drop of brandy for medicinal purposes) Lord Crane introduced them (in his rather fancy quarters, decorated, it seemed by a Giraffe-skin rug in its centre) to the Professor Littlefield. She was an elderly lady, made of rust and grey hair. Determined and intelligent. Whereas Lord Crane was cool but sociable, the Professor was merely stiff, adopting a regimented politeness that seemed to come out of an internal head manual than any understanding, or perhaps care, of human social habits. The Captain was away piloting the ship, despite invitation. This was a duty he could not miss. As the only other apparent man of learning on the ship, Doctor Reed had been invited, his boggling eyes swivelling this way and that in studious trance. The Professor only really became animated when it came to the geology of Greenland. And only Arna was really able to grasp it; she had a working knowledge of Greenlands geography, and much more ability to communicate the concepts. Lord Crane seemed to understand; whilst he had not the expertise of the Professor, he had it seemed studied and planned for this expedition ever since... Well, as Arna put it: "So, Professor, you are saying that this meteor landed a month ago? And has been causing magnetic anomalies ever since? And the local weather systems are getting more chaotic?" she asked; arguably so that her boyfriend could cut through her technical scientific speech. As the Professor tried once again to make the straightforward complex with Arna, Lord Crane turned to Jon. "Now then, my good Sir, please do tell me about where you got that magnificent sword!"
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GM The splintering of ice raised a cheer of surprise and even shock. But the mood was good. "Hurrah!" "Three cheers for the Stranger!" "Hip hip! Hooray!" "Hip hip! Hooray!" "Hip hip!.." "Hooray" finished Lord Crane, giving a clap just slightly too slowly. He was giving the Black Knight a scrutinising, analytical stare. And his gaze was doubled in study when it came to the sword. The ice around them was starting to splinter and soon the ship and those around them would be in icy cold sea. "Back to the ship, Lads! our jobs done!" called out Captain Voss. And he was right to call out this order, for the splintered ice started splintering more and more quickly, and soon there was a scrabble to get back on board. But get back on board they did, and the great Ice breaker could now do its job; cutting a path to the mountain. "Shouldn't be more than an hour or so!" said the rather pleased Captain Voss. Lord Crane loomed, a painted smile on his face. "Excellent! Well done everybody. And you, my friend, must tell me about that splendid sword! Lets have some tea!"
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GM Crane had a slight coolness to his face. "I will" he answered. Possibly he would have anyway. Possibly he seethed at being goaded into doing it. Whatever his feelings, he had at least some mastery over them. But the air got a little frosty. Outside, it was frostier still. Arna had joined them. She was tall and reasonably fit, and did her part, but compared to the grit of the hardened sailors, she was less effective. They kept going, hammer and tong, at the ice. Crane was also tall, and had a kind of wiry strength and steel determination to him, swinging a pickaxe with fierce abandon. "So, what you want?" said Voss, taking a break from the work. The sailors were working in shifts, sharing tools and stopping for tea and salted meats (mainly fish). He offered the Black Knight a hammer or a pickaxe. But he did give an appraising eye on the mighty sword of the Black Knight. "Something Industrial Strength?" he ventured.
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Starshot "Get him on it fast" replied Starshot. They were heading into the maw of the beast, and he was not in his element. They were probably going disarm him. Not for sure, but probably. He quickly went through his belt, discarding most of his equipment. He kept a few thermal pellets stuffed into one Jacket Pocket, and his blowpipe (complete with Tzetzi dart) in the other. Aside from that, he kept the medical kit and his whip. Perhaps the latter they would pass off as some cool cultural heirloom. They would not be far wrong. The plasma rifle, however. That was antagonistic. He left that behind. And slammed his metal fist into his other. If violence was called for, he would fight with his two fists. But if it came to that, the odds where not good. He could hardly fight everyone on that ship. "Prepare for the worst...." he said to the Pilot as they arrived at the Big Ship...
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GM "Antiquated, yes. Not all bad" said Arna, charitably. She was a charitable person. She didn't take the multitool with joy, but she did not refuse it either. "I'm not sure this will help, but thank's all the same" she said, kindly. "And I wouldn't want to be with somebody normal" she added, with both kindness and love. Lord Crane had moved, silently, into view, and gave a clap. "Aha! True love it seems. How splendid" he said, with a smile that, whilst superficially genuine, seemed to evaporate from his face as soon as it had formed. "But now to more serious matters. I have an expedition to lead and I would do it sooner rather than later, and now rather than sooner. And that means every man woman and beast picking at the ice" he said, firmly, to both of them.
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GM Lord Crane gave a smile and a bow. "Delighted to hear it, my friend" he said, giving a pat on Jon's shoulder. Captain Voss kept his head down, pretending not to attend to or notice the tension between the two men. A couple of minutes later... ...the Ship Infirmary Doctor Root was a thin, hunched man and not tall either. It looked like his limbs would snap like twigs if the wind blew too hard. His eyes nearly popped out of his skull with feverish intelligence and energy. Whilst his bedside manner was surely lacking, his ability was not. "Ah yes, this lovely young lady is quite fine, quite fine. Resilient even!" he smiled at Jon, looking up from examining her mouth. "Wonderful set of molars if I may say so! Ah yes! Well, the ships doctor has to double up as dentist, ah yes!" he said with a sad smile. Despite his fussing, Jon did not get the impression that Doctor Root was in any way of amorous intent. He just seemed to find the human body fascinating without any hint of lust spicing up that fascination. "Yeah I'm fine, I'm fine" said Arnaq who felt uncomfortable - but not scared or disgusted - by Doctor Root's examination. He was like a vexatious mosquito that one wanted to swat away as he poked and prodded. Irritating, not not intrusive. "And so's my boyfriend" she added, rolling her eyes at Jon. "No need to examine him..." "Are you suurrrrreee?" replied Root, his tongue rolling and his eyes scanning Jon's body, every square inch scrutinised for sign of some mundane or (ideally) obscure pathology.
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GM Captain Voss stroked his beard. "Your words ring true. And it is cold. Perhaps this anomaly is the root of our problems" He mulled over the situation, arms folded, rocking his chair. "Whatever Lord Crane and the Professor have cooked up, whatever they pay. My first priority as the Ships captain is the safety of the crew. Damn Crane, if it wasn't for his father I would..." His ears were sharp. He cut off his voice as he heard footsteps. Lord Crane himself. A tall, slender man, well over six foot, thin but firm. He had prematurely grey hair, flowing long, and a regal air. Black dark eyes, and a contemptuous nose. He liked to stand over people literally and figuratively. His cloth, whilst clearly elegant, was also functional. A deep purple trenchcoat of died leather, and with warm clothing underneath. The Black Knight could spy some gun-like bulges under the trenchcoat, either side of a thick leather belt. "Your Lordship" bowed the Captain. "And who do we have here then?" said the Lord, coldly. "Another survivor? I spied a most delightful young lady come aboard a little earlier. I must attend to her later. Can't have your butcher doctor get his hand on her, hahahaha" he said, with only a trace of mirth.
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GM A goodly few minutes later... ...the Ship's Mess... Arna took the two pilots to the Ships infirmary and was given a guests quarters. Mainly steel; bleak but comfortable enough. Captain Voss took the Black Knight to the ships Mess for some hot food; soup of some brown variety that was palatable but greasy. Full of nutritious stuff, said the Captain, wolfing his own down. He did not elaborate on what the "stuff" was. Meat of some kind, presumably. Tea was served, and of most excellent flavour. Whatever else this world did, its tea was finer than anything on the Earth the Black Knight knew. "Now its a good ten miles to the expedition site. And half of that through frozen waters. Lord Crane and his scientist - a lady would you have it, Professor Littlefield - they have some equipment they want to take. But looks to me they might have to set out on foot. And in any case, the ship has to turn around and get back to land. Whatever way we do it, its a bad stroke of fortune. One we shall endure I am sure. Leastways, as long as it doesn't get any colder..." It was warm enough on the ship. Copper pipes full of steam radiated a pleasant heat. "Now whats your story, my friend? Not many Englishmen come to Greenland..."
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GM "That thing?" sighed the captain. "That will be Lord Crane" "Lord Stiffass" mumbled a sailor, to a general chorus of content. "That's enough of that lads!" Captain Voss said, most firm of voice. "Lord Crane, our benefactor. It was his Lordship who financed this mission. Brought a couple of steam-powered automatons with him. Stupid pepperpots. Whistling and spinning and going on about anomaly this and anomaly that. Apparently they have some kind of compass towards the area of interest" he said, scratching his bald head. "Don't know how you found it though. I though most of them were onboard, getting prepared for the expedition. If we ever reach it" he said, pointing at a distant mountain ridge. "At least our damn provisions are high. And we have a doctor, strange fellow, but a doctor who can tend to your wounded" he said, more pleasantly. "Although I would like to hear your tale in full over some tea and maybe a drop of brandy" he offered.
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GM The sailors (for sailors they were, by and large) stopped hacking and picking as the Black Night and his motley crew of ijured and girlfriend passed. They seemed to be making reasonable headway. But the ice was thick and extended far. A grizzly short man, with flesh packed hard on heavy bones, and a bushy grey beard approached them. His eyes were sharp, his head was bald, and he had that kind of build where muscle and fat were vying for dominance. In his case, however, muscle seemed to be winning, and even his fat had a kind of robust solidness to it. "Captain Voss" he said, gruffly but with a smile on his face. He offered a heavily calloused hand. His grip was that of a seasoned sailor (in other words, like a vice). "We could certainly do with the help" he said, somewhat sour. "We were meant to break through this to reach...well, I don't know what. Some kind of pur-lace of sy-en-tiff-ic h'in-terrest" he said, sarcastically. He was not a learned man, although he must have been a capable one to captain such an enormous ship. Or perhaps heritage and / or money had given him his post. "Our damn titan-chisel got bust the first day..." he muttered, pointing to a machine the size of a van, with snow tracks and a massive chisel on its front that was bigger than the Black Knight. In other words, it was very big. "So its going slow by hand" he conceded.
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GM A moderate time later, The trudge through the snow and ice was a mixture of unpleasant cold and cold beauty. Distant, cold beauty. The northern lights glowed green in the sky, and the air, whilst cold was crystal clear. Following the tracks was not hard. Keeping up pace was a little more tricky. The sledge was certainly functional, thanks to Arna's know how and the might sword of the Black Knight set to work on the plane wreckage. But it was carrying two men, plus supplied. Including salted peanuts. An hour, maybe two, of trekking and the coast started to come into view. A frozen ocean. They must be in the northern part of Greenland, truly arctic. Arna was doing ok in the cold; she knew how to survive - at least for now. The two pilots were not doing so well, being relatively inactive. Shivering and pale. In the ice beyond the coast, a giant ship could be seen, alongside many men cutting and hacking at the ice around it. The robot pepperpot was making a beeline for the ship - which seemed to be stuck in the ice. "It's an ice breaker...but it's stuck..." explained Arna, confused. "This is strange weather, even for Greenland...."
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Starshot "This is Starshot. We have encountered a huge mother ship, origin unknown" he said, trying to grapple with the situation in his head. "Several small vessels, I don't know what you would call them, buzzing around us like Tsutsi Flies" he explained, recalling the vampiric blood suckers that swarmed on the Swamp Planet Vyurn-6. Nobody would be smuggling them. "I guess they are smugglers. But not like any I have seen before..." he muttered on the microphone. "In any case, we have been spotted. Send a search party or build a funeral pyre. Maybe do both..." He switched of the microphone. "What's are chances if we make a run for it?" he asked the Pilot with ice in his voice. He guessed they were not good. Sighing, he flipped the com to short range. "Good morning" he said, slowly. "How are you today?" he asked, bluntly.
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Searching CLubhouse: 1d20+7 23 the good rolls keep coming.
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Starshot "What the hells is that garbage" grumbled a still dour Starshot. He couldn't make head or tail of it. "And what the hells is that ship?" he said, a little of the stone ebbing from his voice. It was a magnificent, imposing, ship. It looked like a war ship, maybe. But really, it was beyond him. "I hope your stealth fields hold. If that thing has guns as big as its hull, then this is our last flight" he murmured. He took in the pure size of the ship for a moment, barely noticing the space bikers, before concluding... "We need to get onboard that ship...!"
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Starshot He was in a foul mood already. He didn't get any fouler, but rather his sourness solidified somehow, turning to iron. "Smugglers. Smuggling beasts" he ventured. Might be wrong, but this solar system seemed to be a criminal highway. He wished he was in the Xeno. Master of his own destiny, for one. Extremely fast, for another. And a very comfortable leather seat for thirds. A bit of luxury could take the crusted skin from a vexatious demeanour. "Lets go then. I won't be stopping you. Probably end up saving your life" he grumbled, still angry about killing the Bortha, and angry with the pilot telling him to.
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The Red Rat Thanks to the Bourgeoisie! Asleep was good. As far as she could tell, there was no threat. She holstered her superior soviet pistols and took a closer look at the club house. What was the man doing here? A caretaker, perhaps. Presumably not a member of the club. But he looked like he had been renovating. Building something? Or knocking something down, of course. Two sides to every coin. This deserved an X-Ray scan of the building. If only she had studied Architecture at university. More useful than politics and philosophy - especially when the courses where all Soviet doctrine. She gave a quick X-Ray glance at the sleeping man too. Wouldn't do for him to have a pistol stuffed somewhere unmentionable...
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Starshot It was, unfortunately, a good point. Not one he liked, but a hard truth. Sometimes, he knew, one had to bite the bullet. He trudged to the sleeping Bortha and took a look at the beast. "Sorry, my friend. You deserved better" he grunted, and fired the gun, point blank, through the beasts chest. The plasma seared a sorry sound, and there was an even more tragic smell of boiling blood and burnt flesh. And then it was over. He reached down and broke off one of the things many teeth. "I'll take this to remind me" he said, almost a whisper, almost a tear. Then, a blunt, gravelly call to the pilot. "It's done" he said, like falling tombstones.
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Starshot Starshot felt his nerves a little shredded by explosions. He should have been used to them, with Gunmonkey around. But he never was. And even those were accidental explosions. Deliberate ones jangled his nerves with the rattle of memories. He felt his irritability climb up a notch. "Are you telling me to blow up the Bortha?" he said, an acid snap to his voice. "Just because I'm a hunter doesn't mean...never mind. Its sedated. Read to be transported to...well..." Where too? "Ill transport it back to its home-world if need be. The Xeno can handle it".
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GM Arna gave a half sigh and slumped into a plane seat. An oxygen mask was dangling in front of her face, despite her attempts to brush it off. "Negative Anomaly...Negative Anomaly....Returning to base..." squeaked the robot, steam hissing magnificently through its splendid copper tubing. It did not exactly turn, for it was almost perfectly conical. Instead, it started scuttling off on its stubby legs, out of the plane and through the snow. "Nice knowing you!" waved Arna, turning to the Black Knight. "Should we follow it? Easy enough in the snow, although even light snow will smooth over the trail after an hour or so. Its just we have these two..." she pointed to the groaning pilot with the snapped ankle, and the unconscious one with the head gash.
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Flintlock Flintlock narrower her eyes and broadened her lungs. A pirate battle! This surely called for a song, and sing she would! "Blood will boil and bones will crack! Ill chain you to the Iron rack! You'll kiss the gunners daughter! The whip will be your slaughter! Ill Keel-haul your flesh, rip your heart from your chest.... And the crows will feast on the rest! Huzzah!" The verse was directed at the pirate who had tried to take her head. As she sang, her skin started crawling with ethereal horrors. Worms and beetles and centipedes of alien composition from space beyond space and time beyond time. It would send a man or woman mad, the crawling chaos. And Flintlock was crazy. With that, she swung a wild boot and a wild fist at the pirate. She was not strong, but she had been enough battles to fight and brawl. Of course, the crawling horrors made her a little more wild and crazy than normal, and so where her knuckles and feet.