Stephano Falcone
She looks around and tries to move away from you as you enter. You get the feeling she's afraid of you.
He could tell how she was feeling just by looking at her eyes. Fear. Panic. Terror. Those were feelings that Stephano had observed numerous times during his "work". Many of those unfortunate souls brought by the government to receive his "treatment" had the same eyes. That same fear. A fear that would turn to horror as they suffered. They would beg for the pain to stop. They would keep screaming until-
No, he couldn't allow those memories to surface again. Not now. Stephano shook his head and took a deep breathe, returning his focus to the situation at hand.
"Iris, are you going to be alright? Are your allies on their way to this safe house with medical aid? If not, I can help you, but I understand if you are hesitant. The aid I would provide is...not a pleasant experience, to say the least. It is a...unique ability I possess. Are you already aware of it?"
If Iris refuses to answer or is unable to answer, then remove my sunglasses and attempt to heal her. If my powers do not work, then instead search the building for medical supplies that can help stop the bleeding. If I can't find any or she's too close to death for me to leave her, then tear off parts of my clothes and try to fashion bandages for her wound. If that doesn't work, then try to help in whatever other way I can.
She takes a moment to catch her breath and regain her ability to speak.
"They need to. Make sure we aren't followed. They will come. Tomorrow." she says between breaths.
"I don't need-"
She tries to get up but she can't, sinking back down.
"Whatever it is you-"
She tries to get up again and again her arms are too weak to even lift her off the bed. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, trembling occasionally. When she opens her eyes again, she looks defeated.
"Okay. Go ahead. I will... stop resisting." she relents, looking away.
It's a strange mix of relief and new worry, hearing those words. You'll be able to help her. But also hurt her.
After looking around for what you need, you sit down beside her. You make sure she's as comfortable as she can be. And then you give her a belt to bite down on.
"Why-" she begins to ask.
You explain to her that it's so that she won't hurt herself. If she does, it will only make things worse. You'll also need to hold her arms and legs. You've seen people hurt themselves from the pain before. It isn't pretty.
You sit down over her, ready to hold her down. You remove your glasses. Nothing happens. You're not sure where to look. Anywhere would do. But you're not sure if you can stand looking at her face. You can't help it. You look anyway. Her eyes are wide with fear once again. She's regretting this. She's going to change her mind, beg you not to do it, beg for it to stop, beg for her to die. She screams but it's not for you to stop. It's a simple scream full of pain as her flesh knits itself back together. A couple of seconds in she is no longer able to resist her primal urges. Her body raises in an arc, her hands try to free themselves from your grip, her legs try to kick you off. But even with her panic-fueled strength, she's too weak. You manage to hold her down and keep holding her down as she screams and screams.
You're not sure how long it took. You didn't keep track of time. It felt like hours though it was probably no more than a few minutes. Eventually the noise dies down, her struggling stops and her eyes close. You let go of her and inspect her wound. It's completely healed, only a small scar where it once was. You lower her shirt and cover her with the bed covers to keep her warm. Her face, still tense even in her unconsciousness, relaxes somewhat as the covers embrace her.
You debate waking her up to make her put on some clean clothes but decide to delay this. She's going to be tired from healing. You've seen that before. You should let her rest and probably get her something to eat and drink, let her regain her strength. Your stomach is also empty and starting to complain, you can't remember when the last time they fed you was. It was definitely not today. You wouldn't mind grabbing something to eat yourself. You extinguish the lights to let Iris rest and get out of the room with plans to prepare a proper meal for the two of you. You make sure to leave the door open, hoping it will help you hear if she needs anything.
You remember from your previous investigation that there wasn't much here that was easy to prepare. There's some of the canned food, you guess, but people usually don't enjoy cold, amorphous blobs of nutrients. That's not food, that's sustenance. The kind of thing they give to prisoners. It wouldn't hurt to take some time to prepare something more decent. Both of you would enjoy it. Having convinced yourself it's worth the extra effort, you get down to work preparing a meal.
You don't have too much cooking experience and this kitchen is far from fully equipped. The meal you prepare is a simple thing. Freshly boiled rice with canned tuna and canned corn sprinkled over it to give it a bit more varied taste. Still, the combination of taste, of warm rice and cool corn, it's interesting, at least to you. Hopefully Iris won't mind.
Last you checked she still hasn't woken up. Hasn't even moved around too much. But she was still breathing. It took some time to prepare the food in this old woodstove, partly due to the time it took to get it burning. The sun has almost set and it's starting to get chilly. When you enter the room again she's still in the same state. You set the old tray down besides her and gently wake her up.
She appears to be... Well, she's not dead. She wakes up and lays resting her back on the headboard. She accepts the plate you offer her. She uses the spoon to eat from it. But she is completely apathetic. She gives no indication of liking or disliking it. She eats slowly, chews slowly. She doesn't say anything, doesn't respond to any of your questions, doesn't even make any facial expressions. Unsure of what to do, you put the plates back on the tray and head back towards the kitchen.
"He's dead. Isn't he?" you hear Iris accuse you as you are about to cross the threshold. You stand there, unsure of how to react.
((I decided to fast forward a bit. If you dislike this please say so and I will refrain from doing so in the future.))
He then sighed. "Nevertheless, since I'm not currently someone's involuntary puppet and you've just piqued my interest in this 'Queen' you speak of, I'll let this one slide. Now that the test is done, perhaps you can take me to the Queen. I'm sure that she didn't send me through this fiasco just to entertain herself."
"That is up to her." she says, laying back.
"'Royalty doesn't walk on the dirt like the common rabble. Royalty doesn't do servants' work. Royalty works with Grace, Diligence and Detachment.'"
She turns to look at you.
"Wouldn't you agree?"
You notice she's avoided answering your question. Perhaps you should be more direct.
"I suppose you're right, mademoiselle," Napoleon finally said with a sigh as he turned back to the burning museum. Parts of it was beginning to collapse but that's not what's on his mind. Though Napoleon would be quite adamant on whether he is the royalty in this situation, he felt more like the servant for some reason. An exceptionally well-dressed, well-groomed, and dollish servant. Perhaps it was time to cut to the case.
"What does the Queen want with me, now that the test that I've no doubt passed is over?"
"I would hope that what she wants with you, is you." she says while looking at the embers drifting towards the unnaturally black sky.
"I found you because she asked me to. Ordered me to."
You notice the ambiguity in her statement. Does she mean you specifically or someone like you? A large crash interrupts your thoughts. Some support column finally gives way, causing a large part of the roof to crumble, sending up a rain of glowing embers.
"Yes, I know. Not the answer you're looking for."
She shrugs and makes a gesture to indicate helplessness. Perhaps she is not allowed to speak more, perhaps she doesn't know more, perhaps she wants to keep toying with you.
"A better answer to your question would be that she wants what all royals want from other royals: To use you."
She turns her head to look at you.
"You should seek to do the same: Use her to become stronger."
"It's what I do." she adds with a smile and a wink.
A while later, she abruptly gets up.
"Sadly, while pleasant, this conversation must come to an end. It is time for me to go."
She turns to face you as you get up.
"It was a pleasure meeting you, my Prince. As was fighting with you. This Knight of Silver salutes you."
She bows with one fist on her chest.
"If you keep this up, I am certain we shall meet again."
Campaign: The Hills of Midnight
"Don't listen to them. I chose you as my squire because I saw potential in you. They are just jealous. Don't let that get to your head though, I'm sure they will have your back when it counts and that you will have theirs, we are all comrades after all. After you face danger together and prove that fact I'm sure the teasing will stop. Now eat your soup before it gets cold."
Lune is comforted by your words and advice. He vows to do his best to prove himself and prove you right for trusting him when the time comes. Hopefully this will be enough to help him weather any teasing he receives in the near future. Angry emotional teenagers are bad, angry emotional teenagers armed with deadly weapons are a disaster waiting to happen if there isn't something holding them together.
Tsar the pot of soup to be tastier and healthier and more filling. Alan isn't the only food mage.
You approach the cook, removing your glove to reveal your bare hand, green Tsar energy sparking from your fingertips as you apply your ability to the air in your hand.
"Mind if I give it a shot?""Magic has no place in the kitchen. Cooking is an art."
"Come on, you and the other cooks have had your fun. Let me give it a shot."Immediately understanding what you mean, the cook is about to protest.
"Are you afraid?" you add before he can speak.
Those are the magic words.
"Certainly not!" he exclaims with a huff, crossing his arms.
With his skills questioned, his pride gives him no choice but to accept. You can't help but smile. Good thing the scarf hides it.
"Fine. But if you ruin this don't expect me to cook another. And if you break the pot-"
You make a gesture to show that his concerns are unfounded and get to work. You find a spot where the pot isn't too hot to touch and prepare to infuse it with power. Then you notice the cook standing opposite to you, looking down at the pot. You look up at him.
"Just... give me some distance?"He takes a few steps back. You prepare to get to work- And then look back at the cook.
"A bit more?"The cook sighs and takes a few more steps back. This should be safe. Better safe than sorry.
You take a few more seconds to prepare. You want to make the food better, not huge. You need to focus on your ability to change things, not mere enlargement. Focus on the idea of change. Focus on the Chaos part of your abilities, enhance that Flow. When you feel sufficiently prepared, you let the power flow into the pot, using your thoughts to Control it, to shape and direct it while also letting it free to change, not particularly interested on the results beyond the general effect.
It works. The pot is changed but doesn't become much larger. It grows great spiky legs and its top is encircled by several dangerous-looking spikes, making it look like the mouth of a Cacolope. The effect on its contents is much more pronounced, multiplying and changing in nature.
You lower your scarf, dip the ladle in and try the results of your alteration. It has become quite thicker, its consistency somewhere between a soup and a purée. It also feels heavier and spicier, something quite likely to make your stomach ache if you eat too much, though from what you've gathered this is exactly the sort of food the people of this Kingdom like: something that packs a bit of a punch. You also think you've triggered some sort of fermentation effect, there's the faint but distinct smell of alcohol in there. Probably not enough to cause any significant effects beyond altering the taste and making it sweeter, unless someone goes through the trouble of distilling it.
"How bad is it?" the cook asks, clearly not impressed by the looks of the greenish sludge now occupying his oversized pot.
"Judge for yourself." you reply, offering the ladle back to him.
You can see it in his eyes, the surprise and the pleasure turning to guilt and embarrassment a moment later as he tries to hide his feelings.
"T-this doesn't count, you know!" the cook protests, shaking his fist to you as you walk away satisfied.
The recruits waste no time taking a second serving. A while later everyone is in high spirits and joking about what happened, even the cook, though he still maintains that magic disqualifies you from participating in the cooking contest. You're not sure how long your ability will last or what sort of effects its fading will have but even if the food fades its effect on morale will definitely remain.
You guess this is more or less what Alan did when he was here. He gave everyone stuff and helped keep spirits high. Wonder if Ike had any luck finding him. ... Now that you think about it, that bird Alan used to hang around with has also disappeared a while after Alan did. You'd expect it to stick around and try to beg for food from someone else. Hm.
Nikolai has a couple drinks then gets to talking to the alchemist. He tells her of the food where he's from. It is a mix of ancient preserved rations, unappetizing "nutrient slurry" and slightly radioactive mutant livestock and plants. These were combined in surprisingly tasty ways. Still was tough to chew compared to the food in this world.
Where did he grow up? The Bunker. He was forced to leave after he manifested his powers (No Mutants Allowed!) and he was taken into a surface bandit gang. Used to perform petty swindling tricks at first (tsar a trinket then trade it for valuable stuff). Things happened, the gang merged and split several times and eventually Nikolai found himself leading a small mercenary band mainly focused on protecting caravans. Gas masks were his groups main uniform and symbol. There were a couple other members with powers. Boris had rocket propelled arms and legs, Zinaida could make plants wither, and Mykhail had a few extra eyes and fingers.
There was this one prostitute, Natalya, who always told him to come back safe.
Now, tech talk. Get the blank book for drawing the diagrams in.
((Will edit this in))
The alchemist is quite interested in your story. She keeps extensive notes.
She's very interested in your relationship with others. Was there anyone left behind when you were exiled? How did they react? How did you feel? Were you close to the other mercenaries in your group? That sort of thing.
She displays an unhealthy interested to the mention of prostitutes, curious about how the while thing works. Some of her questions clearly implying that Natalya wanted you to return merely because you were a sucker that paid more than the rest, though you aren't sure if she's mocking you or is simply that oblivious and/or uncaring.
However the thing she's interested in the most is how that 'swindling' business works and if they can try to do the same here, if he can demonstrate or guide her through the process and if there are other methods beyond the one he mentioned.
"I did start a family, and I chose to retire, reduce myself to this form, in order to live among them. They were murdered. When I reduced myself to this, I gave up the power necessary to begin again. I complete the tasks Im given in order to regain the power I need, and to learn who murdered my family and why."
"As for if people think of me as human, I don't actually mind that, but I don't like lying to people. If they get to make an informed decision and decide to think of me as human, it doesn't bother me at all."
"I am very sorry for your loss."
"Forgive me if I offended you. I had no idea. I understand why that would make you feel angry."All of the mages make sympathetic and/or apologetic gestures.
"So you are like a bound spirit in a way?"You're not sure exactly what they mean. They explain that a spirit is essentially a lesser god, either created by one of the gods or existing naturally in the world. A bound spirit is compelled by special spells to obey commands, in exchange for a certain sacrifice. When the contract has been broken, the spirit is free to roam the world once more or return from where it came from.
"Do you enjoy having people serving you or worshipping you? Most gods do. But you don't appear to have taken any steps to persuade or dissuade anyone from doing either during your time with us."
The Wandering Arms: Downstairs
((Is Zechariah with Ike, or waiting downstairs? Either way...))
Wait patiently outside or inside the room, whichever is preferred by the guards or the Boss. Keep my guard up.
You let Ike have his secret underworld meeting and get to the bar to have a drink. You leave a coin on the counter and ask for some juice. The bartender looks at you like you're an alien. A few moments later she turns around and produces a shot glass full of blue stuff. You smell it. It smells ok, no alcohol that you can smell. Hopefully nothing magical either.
"You iz friend of elf-guy, right?" someone asks with a foreign-sounding accent.
You turn to see who's asking.
"Youz tell elf-guy come work for me."
It's the man with the spiky hair, holding his equally spiky helmet and an oversized mug.
"My crew iz best crew. He work for me, der lodz of loot, lodz of drinkz, lodz of funzies."
He is a bit too close to you. He smiles, showing some missing teeth.
"Little boy also come if iz friend of elf-guy. We find work for boy. Eh, what you say?' he asks, slamming you in the back in what was probably meant to be a friendly gesture.
You drink your shot, pretending you're too busy to answer. It tastes OK. Perhaps a bit too sour.
"Bar-woman! More drinkz for little boy-friend here!" he shouts, slamming a few coins on the bar as he does so.
You hope those two words combined have a very different meaning in this language. The bartender doesn't appear to be bothered by his shouting, taking his money and bringing you another shot.
"Other crew also here. All of Z fighterz."
The men Ike identified as the 'clean' group (probably because their clothes and faces are cleaner compared to everyone else here) keep glancing your way and whispering amongst each other.
"Not here-here. In back, for funzies." he clarifies.
Two of the 'clean' men get up and quickly make their way outside, moving with purpose.
"We haz big win in big fight. Other crew vzuf! Wrecked! Best fight in..." he pauses for a second, trying to think of an appropriate timespan.
"Forever!" he finally exclaims.
The two other 'clean' men stay at their table and keep an eye on you. You try to not stare at them.
"With movez and swordz and crazy ears, elf-guy best dance-fight for Z fighterz! We have many more victoriez!"
The Wandering Arms: Upstairs
((Heh, I do what I can, Paris. Alan's quite an enjoyable experience to roleplay because he's one of the rare examples in my life of pure, undiluted spontaneity. I can do whatever my mind wishes as him without worrying about ... well, everything one considers in every other situation. It's liberating.
Still doesn't mean I won't try to keep him alive though, as you see 
))
"Alright, now that my uniqueness is solidly proven, I can get to this!
Ahem.
WASUUUUUUUP?!"
Direct this greeting towards Ike. He's probably all fussed up about me because of those pizzas and the boombox distraction.
"Well, that's all pretty interesting (though I'm not really sure which friend you mean), but I'm more into the idea of finding out what's happened to my buddy Alan, it'd be unsafe to leave him out without supervision for long. Heck, I have no idea what he even did to disappear like he did. Can I see that guy Brad maybe? He's the last one who saw him."
"And hey, thanks for giving me the briefing on what's what around here. Anything I can do for you to return the favor?"
Chat with the crimelord politely.
You continue your polite chat. Just chatting politely. Nothing out of the ordinary, no crazy talk, no flying objects, just talk. Ah... Sometimes you miss Alan. It's like you can still hear him, calling out to you, saying something silly like
"WASUUUUUUUP?!"The Boss clarifies that he's talking about the guy you arrived here with. Zechariah.
He also says that no reward is needed for his help. A mutual exchange of information is enough for now.
He says that Brad is a valued associate of his. Despite his 'bad habits' he has come through multiple times in the past. And this time he provided something extraordinary out of his own volition, an object of incalculable value. All he asked for in exchange was information on whether or not he could help his new friend. And coin, of course.
He elaborates, saying that Brad's friend, which is also your friend, happened to have an accident. He used some sort of chaotic poison on himself which made his body dissolve, everything except the eyes which remained as some sort of Artifact. You guess that sounds like Alan, always putting things in his mouth to explore them, like a baby. You also remember that one time he gave a poison he had created to a boy that made the boy dissolve. In retrospect, what happened to Alan was just an accident waiting to happen.
Brad said that he could still hear Alan speak to him and he hoped Grim would know how to help him. Assuming he is not crazy and that this isn't the booze talking, there could still be a chance to save your friend. Though he hasn't seen anything like this before, he has a theory on what might work. And for that you'll need Alan's eyes.
"But I can't just hand them over to you. I am a businessman, you understand." the Boss says, making an apologetic gesture.
"Those eyes could be quite valuable, even as a mere key, though I'm certain that's not all they do. What would you be willing to provide in exchange for them? How much is your friend worth to you? Your armour, perhaps?"
Ah, now we get to the kidnapping and extortion bit.
Maximus: Turret 4A Backup Control Room
John, Inside the Maximus
<<Yes, we're okay. Looks like the turret shutdown was trapped, because it detonated the turret when it was shut down. I can't speak for the guys not in the control room, though. What's it look like outside?>>
Assist Svajoklis with his efforts.
: There's a lot of damage from the explosion but most of it is superficial and contained to this area. Whoever programmed the self destruct did a sloppy job timing it, the warheads went off one by one so many were destroyed before their reaction could begin. Which I guess is a good thing, right? :: I made some deep scans of this section of the ship while flying around but I couldn't detect any active power sources in your vicinity beyond the one you activated. You should be clear, at least until you reach another section of the ship. :: I got hit by some of those explosions. There are several hull beaches and one of the battery packs is out. I'm going to need some time to repair and recharge the Phoenix after I dock. I'm going to try and dock at the Starboard Hangar Bay. Meet you in the Way Station? :<Svajoklis, Maximus external storage and armor>
Check if the terminal has any information on possible nearby transport. Then go to the medkit and see if it has enough supplies to stop myself from bleeding out in the near future.
"I'd really appreciate if someone could help me out a bit here. Binding yourself with one arm is sorta difficult when you are suffering from bloodloss."
You press your book against the keyboard to absorb the data from the terminal (a bit hard to do with one arm but you manage). The map shows that if you follow this corridor towards the centre of the ship you'll reach a hub for this section and from there a transport station. If you're lucky, there will be a vehicle parked there. The network is down so you can't query the transport station for info.
The medkit has a few bandages. It also has a stasis syringe meant to slow down your metabolism until help can get to you. Seems like delaying death until someone competent arrives is the norm with first-aid here, same as in Earth, just more advanced. It also has a few nanopatches, flexible pieces of plastic-like material that are supposed to treat small wounds automatically. You don't know how much good they can do for an injury of this sort but decide to apply them anyway. With the help of Kosak and John you push a few nanopatches against your wounds until they stick in place and secure them with bandages. Hopefully this combined with the magical help from Saevus will be enough to prevent all the horrible things that can happen when someone receives such severe wounds or at least delay them until you can receive proper help.
Maximus: Formerly Turret 4A
Brian Hoss, hull of the Maximus
"Thanks for the save, Icarus."
Consider entering the Maximus by walking on the walls and supports left exposed by the blast.
That would be difficult from here. Both corridors leading further into the ship have been bent out of shape by the explosion, creating numerous blockages. You might be able to get the Phoenix to widen their entrance but the Phoenix can't reach further into the corridors. You could try to find another way in but without John's ability to manipulate machines you wouldn't be able to unlock the doors.
Your only two options appear to be to ask John to come all the way out here and unlock a door for you or follow the Phoenix and meet up with him in one of the ship's hubs, unless you have a better idea.
Poll
15 (42.9%)
Author
Topic: Special People: Mechanical Syndrome (Read 1141613 times)