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@Theyra I've gone ahead and filled out the missing sections for a final review.
It's been interesting so far! Sorry for the major delay, the flu hit me like a cement truck for the last few days.
Vivian nearly jumped out of her seat as a voice crackled from the computer's... speaker? No, that couldn't be - it was too old to have any more sound capability than the motherboard speaker, certainly nothing that could replicate a voice.

"I, uh... Yeah. I can hear you. Are you at another terminal? Can you describe what you're seeing?"

«Terminal.»

It had to be, despite the impossibility - this thing in front of her was just the access point to a network. How it connected, she had no clue. But it was the only thing that could explain this.

"Listen, there's something very interesting with this whole situation. Let's try to stay calm and get to the bottom of this."

«Rabbit hole. Curiouser GOTO Curiouser.»

«User. INPUT NAME.»


Almost automatically, her hands typed out a single word across the keyboard.

CHESHIRE.

Vivian blinked in surprise and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. She hadn't expected the terminal to even power on, given that it looked like someone had reached in and pulled a handful of wires out the back.

Then it did, of its own accord. And it showed a prompt; some nonsense that had probably propagated from a long-forgotten BBS. She found herself entering a name, something that stirred in her memory;
«Virus. Destroyer. Angel. Savior.»

And then it asked her for SACRIFICE. That didn't seem right - but her hand moved toward her pocket, the flash drive that held all kinds of reference material, compressed and organized in case something happened to the servers where it all was stored. She plugged it in to the waiting port (next to a 5 1/2" floppy drive, that made no sense). Her fingers tapped out the file path; something that stirred in her memory;
«Library. Host. Central cluster.»

And then it processed for a terribly long time, the hard drive's clicks and what's the only sound in her apartment. Out of curiosity, she plugged the drive into her normal laptop and checked; and the Library of Congress' collection was gone.
«Given. Taken.»

And now it wanted a name... Along with another? No, there was no way. It couldn't be connected, there was no cord, there was no Wi-Fi, she hadn't hooked anything up.

What the ⚝⚝⚝⚝ was going on?
>registernew
Register name:
>IREUL
Submission status: PENDING
>invoke IREUL
Enter invocation:
>Ñâmå•舐ñâmå•£舐 —‚�舐 ráÚÆ £óÞ¢áñ ???? —‚�舐 ????½ 舐 —‚�£— £½ ½ ????ðsžšåÞя½ ¶舐© —‚�舐 舐½ ▀� ???? ráÚÆ 舐 ‚�£☒舐 ▀????????╟舐▀ ????ðsžšåÞя©舐Þ¥¿☒舐©
...
...
...
...
Invocation accepted.


-SACRIFICE-

>import database
Enter database location:
>E:/data/zips/LOC.zip
Processing...
...
...
...



While a few others headed toward town, CJ opted to stay with the stranger members of the crew, the ragon whose name she hadn't caught yet and... whatever Molybdenum was. She got the feeling it wasn't actually the skeleton talking to people, maybe some kind of... sentient gas? Questions for later. She stayed by them because looked pretty strange herself, she figured, what with the scars and the mismatched metal limbs. She'd definitely gotten some suspicious looks.

I approach the gathering of these beings slowly, towering over them. My talons remain closed, trying to not raise alarm as much as I could. "I hope I will not need to kill any of you." it was a diplomatic greeting, one that promised peace!

Well, that was reassuring. Kind of. CJ settled herself a short but respectful distance from the big lizard and tipped her hat - that she still didn't have, dammit - to them.

"Well, I do hope the same. In fact, I hope none of us get to killin' each other. Any rate, I'm called CJ. You care to share a name, big fella? Don't feel quite right just calling you 'the ragon' like some others do."

She chose not to make eye contact while waiting for an answer, instead watching the second pair as they headed for town and wondering when she ought to head that way - suspicious as they might look, she didn't care for the idea of standing out in the desert sun until the others came back.
My body is ready (to loot questionable artifacts)



CJ took a few moments to breathe deep, luxuriating in a vice that'd been denied her for too long. One of the kiellar seemed to be more concerned about the Ragon among them than the overall situation, and the other seemed to put the two on equal footing.

"Now lets keep moving, you godsdamned fools!" His shouted. His voice carried over the crowd, evoking the image of of a particularly tired sergeant despite his currently unkept, scruffy appearance.


He was barking orders, too, which she didn't appreciate one bit; whatever rank he may or may not have held, it didn't mean a damn thing out here. He'd been dumped out of the same stinking scrapheap as the rest; at least the human sergeant was casting a vote rather than expecting everyone to follow commands.

She took another drag and looked over the Ragon; she'd never fought one, but she had fought alongside one in her pirate days. Main thing she knew about them was that common courtesy went a long way toward not having them rearrange your fleshy parts. This one seemed to follow that pattern; they were asking the same kind of questions as everyone else had about the most unusual member of their unusual group. That was worth looking further into, far as she was concerned.

Then her thoughts were interrupted by Bandit opting to shoot past her toward the ridge. The draft pulled the cigarette from her mouth; she managed to clamp her left hand on it before it hit the ground and returned it to the corner of her mouth, looking a fair bit worse for wear. She followed the dust trail with her eyes for a few more moments in bemusement, and turned toward Vaehach; as much as she was bristling at his command of the situation, he could at least make his voice heard.

"So, uh... How's that figure into our plans, hoss?"

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