[SLACK ROLEPLAYING LOG] #rp-tominkora: Fool’s Errand

Outside the door, across the street stands a human woman dressed in tight blue jeans and a red, tight fitting button up blouse.  Her back is to the door as she seems to peer around the shuttered up windows of a nearby storefront.

Lyddmull Seamel lifts the visor of his helm, revealing the recent first-degree burns his face has suffered. He winces as the slightly acidic air hits him. Closing his eyes while still slightly shaky on his feet causes him to stumble and sway dangerously towards the shoulder of the woman.

Surprised by the man’s sudden presence at her shoulder Maria pulls away, trying to avoid the man’s touch, “Hey watch it!” she scolds, eyes fixed on Seamel as she takes a couple of quick steps back, trying to put distance between them.

Blinking in surprise the armored knight staggers a few steps in the other direction. “I do apologize, miss,” he manages, steadying himself, “Are you alright?”

There’s a moment where Maria seems to be measuring up the armored knight before she suddenly grimaces, “You ever look where you’re going?” she asks, stance shifting ever so slightly to favor her right leg.

“Most of the time,” Lyddmull replies, somewhat sheepishly, “Though I am typically not recovering from a recent roasting.” He gives the woman an appraising glance, noting the limp. “Know you where one can find a doctor less likely to cheat the injured?” he asks, “We can have them look at your leg.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you,” she quickly replies.  “I mean.” She lifts her gaze. “I’m sure I can get myself to the doctor.” A slight hesitation. “Although..” She purposely pats at her pocket for a moment before shaking her head  a bit and making eye contact again. “I mean, I wouldn’t want you to have to pay my doctors bill.”

“I appreciate your concern,” the Fastheldian replies, a smile sending another wave of pain through his face, “But as you can see, I find myself in similar need. Taking you there would not even put me out of the way.”

Maria seems a bit put out by that answer. “You look like you’ll be all right.” she replies and takes a step forward, suddenly not seeming to limp quite so badly. “And I’ll be all right, I’m sure. Yeah.  Kora’s not exactly the place for doctors, ya know.”

“No, but it does seem to be exactly the place for injuries,” Lyddmull replies wryly. He takes a bit of a step back as she steps forward, keeping a wary eye on the seemingly unpredictable stranger.

Maria shrugs noncommittally, “It’s Kora.” Another pause, “Listen man…you don’t want to go to a doc here.” she says, tone ringing honest all of a sudden, “You’re not from around here,” she states matter of factly. “Whatever you’re doing here…you should probably get going.”

“Miss, every inch of me is painfully aware of what I *should* do,” the tall, dark-haired Baron says with a sigh, “Unfortunately, it runs in direct opposition to that which I *must* do. As it is, where I must go from here is far less hospitable.”

“What you must do?” Maria asks with a raised eyebrow, “Buddy, don’t know what they’ve told you…but there ain’t anything you’ve *got* to do when you’re in Tomin Kora…’cept maybe watch your back.”

“That much is known to me,” replies the Seamel, “And no one has told me anything. There is something I came here to do. It remains undone, and now my road takes me to realms far less forgiving than this. And yes, I am well aware that no one I have met or am likely to meet comprehends what I am speaking of.” He shakes his head in some frustration. “So I take it you are wholly unharmed?” he asks.

The woman suddenly takes a step back, cautious once more, “I’ll be fine.” she repeats.  “And where the hell is less forgiving than this place?” she asks.

“The Parallax,” Lyddmull says, not even caring about revealing his plans to a complete stranger at this point. He seems about to walk off before he turns back to the woman. “Do you live here?” he asks curiously.

“The Parallax,” the woman exclaims, shocked. She quickly steps towards him as he starts walking away, “You outta your mind?” she questions.  “And of course I live here.” She says as if that much should have been obvious.

“I might be,” Lyddmull admits, snorting with faint amusement, “Though I might ask you the same question. Why would one live here? Intentionally, anyway. There are a plethora of reasonably pleasant places where one can live and work. So, why here?”

“Born and raised on Kora.  Can’t think of a better place to be.” she replies with a shrug.  “So what’s in the Parallax?  What’re you going after?”

“I take it you have not been anywhere else,” the  knight replies wryly. After a moment’s thought, he comes up with no reason to hold back the answer she seeks. “A confused young man fleeing from the responsibilities of impending fatherhood,” he says, “Apparently, he was taken and sold as a slave to the Nall…”

“And there’s a bounty on him.” Maria replies knowingly.  “Must be a good bail for the risk. ”  She looks back over her shoulder before turning back to the knight, “You know…if he was sold to the Nall…he may not be alive anymore.  Might cost you more than you make.”

“There is no bounty, no bail,” the Knight replies with the tired voice and smile of one who has repeated the answer many times, “And I am well aware that he may be dead. I was half-expecting to find he had died here, but apparently, he survived longer than I thought he would.”

A look of utter confusion comes across Maria’s face.  “No bounty….no bail…then why in the world are you wasting your time on it?” A pause. “Look…if you got a death wish.” she says seriously, “I’ll point you in the right direction and it won’t cost you nearly half as much.”

“No, I rather prefer to be alive,” Lyddmull says, laughing quietly, “And it may well be a waste of time. But I gave my word to his wife, and his mother, that I would do everything I could to find him and convince him to return home. With the Light’s blessing, it may be that a moment of fear and cowardice need not leave his small family without a husband and father.”

Maria shakes her head. “You make absolutely no sense, you know that?” She starts walking in the same direction as the knight was previously walking, all signs of a limp now gone.  “How do you even plan on getting to Nall space?  You got a ship or something?”

“So I have been told,” Lyddmull mutters darkly as also lurches into motion through the occasional grimace of pain, “And given that I only just now became aware of the perilous direction my road would take, I confess that I have no plan whatever. I have some vague inkling that despots like the Nall must needs generate resistance in some form or fashion. Such people might be convinced to aid me on the chance I might at least prick their oppressors, however minutely.”

Maria shrugs noncommittally. “Sure they got enemies.  Who doesn’t.  But being an enemy and being willing to march up to their door.” she shrugs, “Sounds like a fool’s errand.” She casts a sidelong glance at the knight, “I know a doc…but you’ll need money.”

“I have enough for that at least,” the Seamel says with  a stiff-necked nod, “And I agree. It is all too likely that I will be doing the marching alone.”

“Only if you can’t find a way of making worth folks while,” Maria responds, taking him down a side street. “You find a way to do that…you’ll have no trouble finding yourself a crew here.” a pause, “No matter how crazy a mission…or how dumb your reason for undertaking it.”

The Seamel considers this, almost stopping in his tracks. “It is a polydenum mine…..” he finally says.

Maria comes to a sudden stop, looking back over her shoulder at Lyddmull. “Polydenum?” she asks before a grin spreads across her face, “Now THAT I’m sure we can work with.”

“I have no wish to encourage theft,” Lyddmull replies with a faint grin, “But if anyone deserves it, it would be Nall using slave labor.”

“Now THAT,” Maria says with a chuckle, “Is something I can get behind.”  She nods back in the direction they were walking. “Come on,” she says with some excitement, “let’s get you to the doctor.” And off she goes again, leading Lyddmull off through a network of alleys and side streets.

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[SLACK ROLEPLAYING LOG] #rp-ungstir: Queen Anne’s Revenge

There’s a new arrival to the Ungstir Landing Pad – a large freighter that has definitely seen better days. On its side the name “Queen Anne’s Revenge” is painted in bold letters but there are some chips and it’s faded in places. Sprawled across its back is a very shapely lower half of a woman. The rest of her has disappeared into a hatch as the redheaded woman tinkers with something. There’s a fair amount of swearing echoing from the ship in Spanish.

“Can’t park here,” grunts a middle-aged Ungstiri with tousled black and gray hair as he wanders toward the Queen Anne’s Revenge. “Berth’s reserved for the Ecliptic.”

It takes a few attempts to get out of the large hole Kam has half disappeared out of but when she does pop up, her long red curls a frizzy mess escaping from the scraped back bun, she glares down at the Ungstiri, hands propped up on her hips. “That loud mouthed, too busy staring at my tits attendant over there told me this was where I needed to park this hunk of metal,” she snaps back. “So take it up with that moron and let me fix my ship.” Her hand points towards a young Ungstiri man with an overlong nose and eyes just a little too close together.

The man crosses his arms. He shrugs. “That’s between you and your boyfriend. I’m just telling you as a kindness. The Ecliptic is due back any time. Her owner’s not a patient man.”

Kam throws up her hands, gesturing all around, “There are like ten other free spaces on this damned pad,” she says exasperatedly. “And the inner wiring of my heap is all screwed up. It’s going to take hours for me to try and fix it all so it will even move.”

“I know a tug operator,” the Ungstiri replies. He points to the next berth over. “I own that slot. You are welcome to stay there until the Mako returns in a few days.”

There’s a big exasperated sigh from Kam before she nods. “Guess I don’t have a choice. Uh, thanks for the help.” she mutters. She squats down to gather up her tools. “Where the hell is he?” she grumbles to herself. “Having to fix the ship all on my own. Going to kick his ass across this pad when I find him.” She hefts her bag of tools over one shoulder as she starts to climb down the side of the ship.

The man extends a hand to Kam. “I’m Owein Panderyn. My boy Newt should be along in a bit with the tug to get your ship moved.”

“Kam,” the redhead replies, accepting the hand. “Thanks for the help. Still waiting for my mechanic to show up.” She shakes her head and hefts her tool bag higher up on her shoulder.

“Yes, well, if your mechanic stays missing much longer, just ask Newt to give your ship a look,” Owein says with a smile. “He can fix just about anything.”

Kam eyes Owein with some skepticism. “I’m picky about who touches my ship,” she says. “But if I can’t find him, I’ll give your kid a chance.” She shakes her head, hands finding their way to prop on her hips again. “He said we’d meet on Ungstir. Where is he,” she mutters with a frown.

“Who’d the missing mechanic?” Owein inquires. “I could ask around, see if he’s holed up somewhere.”

“Fedya O’Dell,” Kam replies. “He came ahead to check things out and we had made arrangements to meet here on Ungstir a while ago.” She waves a hand back at the ship. “Had to fly the ship out myself.”

“All right,” Owein says. “I’ll send my boy over soon as I can. And I’ll ask around about your mechanic.” He smiles. “Welcome to Ungstir!” Then he wanders back toward the cavern city of Resilience.

As one Ungstiri departs, another appears, this one a bit more familiar. Fedya is moving hurriedly from the gate glancing over his shoulder as much as he looks around the landing pad. There is a mixture of joy and concern on his face as he spots the Queen Anne’s Revenge and her redheaded captain. “Kam!” he calls out, hurrying over.

Kam’s slight smile to Owein becomes a bit brighter and far more genuine when her name gets called by an oh so familiar voice. She turns on her heel and strides off to meet at the halfway point, dropping her sack of tools and throwing her arms around Fedya.

“Missed you,” the mechanic replies as he returns the embrace, a broad smile across his pale face. He pulls back just a hair sooner than he normally would though. “Your trip is ok?” he asks, “Hope so, because is time to go.” He takes Kam by the hand and begins making a beeline towards the boarding ramp.

Kam merely snorts. “She’s not going anywhere just yet,” she replies, scooping up her tools and shoving them into Fedya’s arms. “Go do your job and fix my ship. There have been power problems since I managed to land her several hours ago. Been trying to fix it but I’m not a mechanic. You’ll be lucky if I could get her up in the air, let alone travel any distance.”

“Der’mo,” Fedya hisses, glancing back at the gate again and then at the open hatch, “Ok, get in cockpit.” He grabs the tools and rushes over to the access panel.

Kam follows instructions but that doesn’t stop her from shouting back, “What did you do now?” She only sounds slightly miffed.

“I will explaining later,” the Ungstiri shouts back, diving into the hatch. “Try to start her so I see where problem is,” he says.

“Mierda,” Kam grumbles to herself as she plops herself down in the pilot’s chair, hands gliding over the controls to bring up power. She gets a weak response of about sixty percent. “It was a long trip. Lots of bumps along the way and I was just trying to juryrig everything to work!”

“Can see that,” Fedya shoots back, he’s being playful, to be sure, but there is a level of tension in his voice as he tries frantically to rewire the power couplings. “Ok, try it now.”

Kam starts up the ship again and more lights flicker. “I have about 80 percent,” she calls. “I can probably get us off the ground and if we aren’t being chased, I can get us to a different planet.”

Fedya’s head pokes out of a hatch in time to see a hovertruck pull out of the gate with three humanoids sitting in the front. They stop to question someone who points in the direction of the Queen Anne while a massive Zangali lumbers out of the back of the truck. Fedya squirms back into the hatch, calling out, “Hang on, I try something!” He quickly detaches a feed and plugs it in elsewhere, siphoning a bit of main engine power into the thrusters. “Try now!”

“Okay, so apparently we are getting chased,” Kam mutters to herself as she starts up the ship for a third time. It sputters to life. “It’s working for now. Where am I going?” There is some more muttering to herself in Spanish as the ship goes through its start up sequences at am accelerated pace.

“Anywhere!” Fedya shouts, backing out of the hatch and slamming the panel home. As he turns around, the driver of the truck spots him. They make eye contact for a split second before the mechanic makes a dash for the boarding ramp. “I almost on! Lift off!” he yells into the comm as the Zangali climbs onto the tailgate of the truck even as it lurches in the Queen Anne’s direction.

“You are in sooo much trouble,” Kam shouts as she finishes her start up sequence and the ship begins to lift off the ground. The ship moves with an unusual sluggishness but it doesn’t stop her from pushing the ship off to break atmosphere and take to the stars.

Fedya jumps aboard even as the boarding ramp rises from the ground. He turns to see the truck change direction to a small freighter nearby and grimaces as he keys the airlock shut. “I knowing!” he yells back as he nearly drops headfirst into the engine room, “You yell  me later, da?” Glancing around the compartment he frowns, “And I yell you for what you do down here!”

Kam risks a quick glance over her shoulder before turning her attention back to her flight path. “Hold on, about to make a jump as soon as we get enough distance from the Rock.” She scowls though. Flying risky paths is nothing new. Getting scolded is something else entirely. “Don’t blame me for the engine room! I barely made it here. I had to get every drop of power out of the engine that I could! Maybe next time don’t leave me to make a long trip by myself.”

“And had to use all money I has to get out here and Ungstir is no accept Hekayti credit,” the Ungstiri calls back as he speedily reroutes power back into the jump drive, “Is no my fault I need work pool table for money. How is I know this man lead local gang. I miss Boromovs. At least with them, you know.”

“Pool?” Kam definitely sounds incredulous. “This may be our universe but it’s not where we came from.” She shakes her head as she lines up the ship for an accurate jump and as they finally ascend to the right distance, the ship rocks back and then shoots forward, heading off speedily toward Sivad. Once the ship goes on auto, she leans back in her seat with a quick sigh of relief. “Stupid to make potential enemies on Ungstir over pool. We’re headed to more civilized areas now, so try to behave a little. Si?”

Looking around the engine room in dismay, the mechanic finally gives up for the moment, clambering up to the spinal corridor and making his way to the cockpit. “Never say I am smart one,” he replies with a grin once he arrives, “This is your job.”

“Can’t leave you alone for a minute,  can I? Kam asks fondly. “Hope you were able to learn a few things while you’ve been out here.” She shakes her head, smiling up at Fedya as he approaches. “Just how bad is it down there?” She tries to look innocent. She really tries, but it’s just really not in her bag of tricks.

“Ungstir? Is fine,” Fedya says, plunking down in the co-pilot’s chair and rotating it towards the pirate captain, “More legit work, but no as much easy money, da? Is old days, before biggest war. But is no war. Consortium is everywhere. Even Demaria and Sivad.”

Kam’s smile is wistful as she leans back, tilting her head curiously in Fedya’s direction. “So we are now existing in a universe where we technically haven’t been born yet. Where it seems as though our great grandparents wouldn’t even have been born yet.” She slowly shakes her head, lips pressed together. “It’s… a little hard to imagine. Though I suppose a lot of what’s happened in the last few years is hard to imagine.”

“Da,” Fedya replies, glancing out the viewports, “Not that there is much missing from old… new times for me. Had nothing there, nothing I no have here.” He turns to Kam with a faint smile. “Sorry if is disappointing,” he says.

The red-headed pilot frowns as she tugs on a single curl. “Not disappointed, querido,” Kam replies. “It will just take time to figure things out here. We need to find a way to make money to get the ship in good order.” She shoots Fedya a dark look. “And no more hustling until we know what we’re up against, si?”

The mechanic gets a bit sheepish at this, but nods. “With ship here, should no be hard to find work,” he says, “But if we want fly in Consortium, we need license for you and for ship. Is costing much money. So, I get money.” He shrugs, pulling out a few large-denomination credit chits.

Kam shakes her head in Fedya’s direction. “I’ve been a bad influence on you,” she sighs. “And I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not. But we’ll find a way.” She flashes a brief smile. “Our pirating ways will need to wait until we know the expectations and how to slide around them. Just patience now.”

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[SLACK ROLEPLAYING LOG] #rp-tavros: Light Through the Darkness

Dusk is just starting to settle over the bustling city of Riverturn, the sprawling seat of power on the planet of Tavros. The central square, housing Bull Run Park, is the current home of a festival honoring the Fastheldian traditions and religion, dubbed the Week of Light. Tents have been set up all through the park offering cuisine and trinkets that may have been found in Fastheld. At the center of the sprawl is a large bronze statue of a rampaging bull, both for the name of the park and in honor of The House from which the founder of the planet came from.

A single chime ripples over the happy crowds of people who have gathered and a silence slowly follows. For a small privacy tent comes the Archon herself, Katrin Lomasa, dressed as a modern business woman in a dark grey suit but still wearing the bull sigil around her neck. As she approaches the small dais that has been erected, she gives a wave in greeting as a small applause rises. “People of Tavros. Visitors. Friends and loved ones. For five years, we have celebrated the traditions of old, even as we embrace the new universe in front of us. On this beautiful Spring evening, we light the torch as a reminder that even so far from home, there is still Light to guide us through even the darkest Shadows.” As she gestures, a young boy, around ten, steps forward with a torch to ignite the waiting ceremonial braised that is decorated with the bull, horse and knight, mongoose, raven and wildcat on its sides.

A tall figure stands nearby, with the other government officials. A grey hooded robe is drawn back enough to show Donatex’ face while his hands are folded before him inside his drooping sleeves. His dark face is a dispassionate blank, though his eyes survey the scene before him with careful diligence.

As the brasier ignites, the crowd erupts into enthusiastic cheers. “Walk in the Light, my friends,” Katrin intones as she bows to those assembled. As the cheering dies down, she is assisted down the steps of the dais and is immediately surrounded by those wishing to speak with her.  Some are former Fastheldians seeking to exchange blessings with her while others seem interested in gaining her attention for more political dealings. The Lomasa maintains her gentle grace she slowly makes her way through. Carrying the air of one who has always known the responsibility and gravity of her position, she smiles. Slowly, but surely, she manages to keep a slow but steady pace, always flanked by two security guards. They at least stay back, allowing any who wish to approach to do so without feeling threatened.

The gaunt Mystic also hangs back, taking note of those who approach Katrin with business in mind. At a certain point, he taps the comm in his ear and speaks quietly into it. He then moves up alongside the Fastheldian. “The council awaits you, Archon,” he says in his quiet, even voice.

Katrin’s head tilts ever so slightly to show her understanding, the serene smile never leaving her face. She offers up the Light’s Blessing to a few more people, even taking the time to gently grasp the hand of an older woman bearing the crest of the bull across her heart. There is affection in the touch, even as no words are spoken. But she does disengage from the crowd, allowing her security to clear a path away from the main crowds. Once free from the majority of the action, she pauses to brush her long brown hair back from her eyes. “Do you have a report of how the festivities are impacting the city yet?” She asks as she waits for Donatex to join her.

The kamiroid stays out of the way until the Archon is finished with the crowd and moves up beside her. “A minor drop in production,” he says, “But nothing that will not be made up for by the corresponding increase in morale.” His pale blue eyes and silver are a severe contrast to his dark, brown complexion. “If I read the signs right,” he adds, “I do believe we could call it a success, though more data will be needed to confirm it.”

Katrin’s bright blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in the information but nods slowly. “I am pleased to hear it. These traditions mean a great deal to my people. It is a way to remember who we are and where we came from. To be… blessed in such a way as to be brought here, where things that we could only perceive as magic are considered commonplace…” Wry amusement fills those expressive eyes as she walks peacefully, breathing in the fresh air. ” Have you received the agenda yet for this meeting? I do hate to go into anything completely unprepared.”

“Magic…” the Mystic says quietly with a nod, his mind lost to the invisible threads of psionic emanations for a few moments. “Yes, of course,” he draws out a tablet, “My information suggests that several of the councillors would like to discuss opening trade relations with other interstellar powers.”

Evening starts to chase after the small group as Katrin continues to walk slowly back toward the main government building located near y on the square. “I am aware that now that we have begun to produce a surplus in some of our products, certain members of the Council are more eager to open negotiations with other governments. I admit slight hesitancy since many will view us as a simpleton nation based on our background, however I am willing to hear what they have to say.”

“Your concerns are not without merit, Archon,” the Shohobian replies with a thin smile as they approach the entryway stairs, “Though I am convinced that any ambassador coming here thinking so of you will be in for a rude awakening.”

A thin smile appears. “I truly care not what they think of me,” she replies evenly. A certain level of arrogance can be seen in her pale, attractive features. She may no longer be the same young fresh faced beauty to wreck havoc between noble Houses but there is strength and determination. “We will do whatever is in the best interest of our people and the rest of the Shadow blasted universe be damned. They may talk all they wish. It will not impact how we proceed forward if it is what will benefit my people the most.”

“Talk they will, in words of wire, benighted little worlds afire,” Donatex says absently as they climb the stairs, in the same easy way another might give the time of day, “while one great fish takes little heed, ‘twixt schools of minnows war proceeds.”

The main government building of Riverturn is a focal point of the central square of the city, built of swirling grey marble offset by tapestries hung along the walls to depict scenes from both Fastheldian history and the more recent discoveries of Tavros itself. At this hour, the halls are empty with no sounds except for the clicking of the group’s heels against the floor.

Katrin seems content in her silence, up until they stand outside the large double doors that will lead them into the Council chambers. Here, she stops and gestures her security back. “You’ve advised me for several years. Tell me, do you believe seeking an alliance with the Consortium as I anticipate they will be pressuring me to do is in our best interest?” She asks. “They seem to take a far more militaristic stance than we do on Tavros and that concerns me. I do not want to be drawn into some idiot’s war.”

The Mystic stands still in contemplation for a long moment before answering. “An alliance with the Consortium would tie us to both their successes and failures. It would allow us greater protection, but also the risk of greater enemies. In my own time, the Nall were spoken of with hushed tones. If we join the Consortium, we will certainly be embroiled in their coming conflict. But will avoiding that protect us from Parallax expansion?”

Katrin lightly taps a finger against her lips, a small frown marring her features. “I might be more inclined to seek prospective alliances with other outliers like ourselves. Some of them might be willing to at least speak to us about it, especially since they may also fear the overexpansion from these other groups.”

“This is true,” Donatex replies thoughtfully, “Perhaps successful collaboration will prove a credible deterrent to those who might wish to use the threat of overwhelming force to destabilize negotiations.”

“You are far more familiar with the planets of this universe than I,” Katrin says slowly. “If we were to approach any one, which do you suppose would be the most open to receiving an audience regarding such an alliance?” She inquires. She slowly shakes her head. “I was raised on social and political intrigue and the moving dance that surrounds us in this regard and yet on such a large scale as the whole sky of stars, it seems… So very small. We are but one amongst thousands.”

The kamiroid considers this in silence yet again. “In the Qua, you may find those of peaceable nature, though their greatest protection has always been their distance from other worlds,” he says, his voice meandering lyrically as he speaks, “In the Ungstiri, one might find loyal allies, though their world is a strategic position between the Consortium and the Line of Pain. It is likely for them to become an embroiled pawn were war to break out. Tomin Kora……..” A long pause, as the Mystic’s voice drops to just above a whisper. “Tomin Kora, it is said, neither law nor lord bears, but the King rules from shadows impenetrable. Long are the tendrils of his rule, and longer still the reach of his eyes and ears. A powerful ally he would make for those not unwilling to come away with dirt, nay … with blood on their hands.”

“I have heard that the Ungstiri have at least a passable military force,” Katrin muses. “And they have already been rejected by the Consortium if gossip is to be believed. Though they are a potential risk, there could also be many merits to such an alliance.” There is a small glimmer of interest at the mention of Tomin Kora. “As long as one is cautious, blood is very easy to wash away, ” she quips. “Though based on its reputation, having an open relationship could cause us trouble when viewed by more reputable sources.”

“I suppose,” Donatex replies quietly, “Though if our own people knew, it would only be a matter of time before everyone knew. And know this: The Pirate King always knows more than you, and he will always make certain he is in a position of strength.”

Katrin shakes her head, “Such a public alliance would never do,” she says firmly. “More discreet dealings would be a must.” She snakes a coil of brown hair around her finger, twisting it in slow circles as she ponders. A small crinkle appears between her brows, her bright blue eyes narrowing. “I think for now, we should pursue more reputable options and keep the underhand dealings very close. I myself cannot make such a public trip into a place such as Tomin Kora but sending someone on our behalf if they can be discreet may be an option. In the meantime, before we go down that road, I would like more information on their dealings. I am willing to allow others to think they hold the dominant position in a relationship, however I will never allow myself to be powerless again.” Something dark crosses over her face for a moment and then it’s gone.

“Understood, Archon,” the Mystic replies with a bow, “So it is your intention to lead the council in the direction of Ungstir then?”

Katrin nods, “Yes, I believe that that will be the best way to go,” she decides. “I will be very open to other options, but I do believe Ungstir will be the best option.”

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[SLACK ROLEPLAYING LOG] #rp-luna: Moonbomb

After hours at the Black Cat Tavern is never for the faint of heart. It draws some disreputable crowds, often the disgruntled and underpaid. With a simple, stark interior, there isn’t much to say for its interior decorating. It’s a place to kick up your heels with a few holovids on the walls and plenty of alcohol to be found. The only major decoration is a black car sign hanging over the bar and a few pool tables in the rear. Though this evening is fairly quiet, two bar fights have already been broken up by burly bouncers. Keep vigil and alcohol flowing is a medium heighted Lunite woman of the typical pale complexion with short black hair and bright green eyes. It’s the late shift with Raisa.

Into the tavern wanders Raleigh Devrees – out of police uniform, clad in brown slacks and a black long-sleeve shirt. He’s arriving with a small cluster of passengers just off the last Earth-Luna shuttle of the night.

Another figure enters the tavern, hopping and skipping along like a kangaroo. In fact, he looks a lot like a kangaroo, with red fur. Mert bounces up to the bar, bouncing up and down on his feet as he looks at the available beverages

A flirtatious waitress makes a beeline for those seeking a seat and leads them off, away from the rowdier crowd. There aren’t too many people still left, mostly regulars that are too busy consuming alcohol to get too frisky with the newcomers. Raisa both eyes the fresh blood that’s entered but more of her attention goes to Mert. “Try the Pink Fuzzy Moonbomb,” she suggests. “But watch out, it hits the bottom of your stomach pretty hard.”

“Don’t think I can stomach anything pink, fuzzy, or bomb-like,” Devrees replies as he takes a seat at the bar. “But I’ll take an import bottled beer. Nothing from the tap.”

“Oooh. Fuzzy? Like me? I gotta try it!” Mert says, shuffling in his satchel to pull out a few credits, ordering the drink.

“Don’t blame me when you can’t hop outta here, fuzzface,” Raisa says with a smirk as she moves down the bar, fishing out a bottle for Devrees. “You want a glass or you good?” she asks with a quirked brow. She’s already in the process of concocting Mert’s special drink which is starting to fizzle and swirl pink.

The cop considers the bottle. He nods to Raisa, raising the bottle in salute. “It’ll do. Thanks.” He then watches in dread mixed with fascination as she prepares the mixture for Mert.

Mert watches the drink’s preparation with fascination. “Ooh. Fizzy!”

There’s a certain level of dread covering Raisa’s face as she takes one final ingredient in a clear bottle and pours a bit into the glass. There’s a loud swish and poof with some smoke rising up from the rim. “You sure about this?” she asks, even as she pushes the Pink Fuzzy Moonbomb across the counter to Mert. Devrees gets a wink. “You may wanna back up a little bit. This tends to hit even my regulars pretty hard.”

“Yeah,” the cop replies, edging away down the counter a few stools. “Thinking I should’ve brought a tarp.”

Mert, with a look of complete innocence, picks up the smoking drink and literally guzzles the entire glass in one go. “Ahhh.” he says, wiping his lips. There is a pause, then his eyes go as wide as dinner plates. Stiffening like a board, he falls backwards on the floor, out like a light.

Raisa tucks back her hair, shaking her head in amusement. She starts to say something as Mert takes the entire drink all at once, “I-uh-yeah… I got nothing.” The Lunite woman can do nothing but facepalm as Mert goes over and is out. She cradles her head gently, giving a deep sigh before she gives a signal to a bouncer. “Take him to the side so he doesn’t get trampled.” She looks back at Devrees. “Sure you don’t want one yourself?”

Devrees takes a drink from his bottle. Sets it on the counter. Shakes his head. He watches as the bouncer moves closer to drag Mert away. “Hope you don’t serve many of those. Seems bad for business to tank your patrons so quickly.”

Mert is unavailable for comment as the bouncer drags him off to a quiet spot to vegetate.

Raisa’s amusement is evident as she turns her attention back to Devrees. “It doesn’t usually hit so hard but if you decide to gulp the entire thing down all at once, you may run into some trouble,” she says with a shake of her head. “We’ll make sure that nothing happens to him until he wakes up. It’s not good to let my customers get robbed and murdered because of my drinks.”

The man with the beer nods. He peers at the slumbering Gankri. “I’m a little worried about how he’ll feel when he does wake up. He *may* think he’s been robbed and murdered.”

Mert snores.

Raisa waves a dismissive hand. “He may feel like he’s been stabbed a few times but definitely not robbed and murdered,” she replies cheerily. “He’s not the first or the last who can’t hold his liquor. We’ll let him sleep a little longer before trying to wake him up. Don’t want anyone thinking he’s a new chair or something.”

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