Raxacoricofallapatorius

Reboot - Prized Bride

It's a tie.

Reboot - Prized Bride

Torin Hellsong

Raya T'mivus Kasari Liesma

He listened as she spoke, but the way he never moved his head from side to side almost made it seem like he was ignoring her. The opposite was true, and whenever the buzz of conversation threatened to drown out Raya's voice a slight change in the air current ensured that every word reached his ear safely. "Ah, I suppose fresh produce is expensive to get across the border, especially since all trade routes must pass through Shadow Worth. I manage a handful of trading companies and while we occasionally receive goods from Gemminia they are for the most part non-perishables. Fabrics, raw silk, wool and the like. Every few years I'm able to get a shipment of a particular kind of wine that I believe originates near your homeland. I normally save it for special occasions but once we return to my estate I think I shall open a bottle for the three of us."

Though he was modest in the mention of his business in trade, the truth was that Torin was the head of three mercantile enterprises, the primary sponsor and beneficiary of six leather and fur trading posts, and owned a weaver's guild, four major weaponsmith guilds, and more or less controlled a dozen other arms dealerships. He held significant control over all the major trade routes. The economy was something he'd become interested in after losing his sight, now instead of waging his own wars he profited from others' either by selling to or withholding from certain noteworthy warlords, and taxing the goods. It was the Hellsong House's first source of income and the main reason the family hadn't gone under after the sudden death of Torin's father. Of course, Torin chose to mention none of this to his new brides on the grounds that in spite of his wild success the extent of his influence was something of a secret. Of course the "handful" he'd mentioned earlier publicly represented him, but everything else was managed under several pseudonyms and layers of varying authority. Thus the general consensus that the Hellsong's continued wealth and prosperity was some sort of trickery on Torin's part, and they were't wrong.

The other girl spoke up just then, finally admitting her name. He smiled, genuinely this time. "Kasari Liesma." It sounded exotic on his tongue. He was pleased that his original judgement of her had been fairly accurate, in fact she had softened far more quickly than he'd anticipated. He didn't appear to notice when Raya passed the fruit to her, though he too could hear her stomach growling. "Please, both of you, help yourselves to whatever is on the table. Tyrai, darling, I smell warm mead beyond you, do pass it this way."

Tyrai Hellsong

She'd been lost in her own thoughts when Torin interrupted them, asking for the mead. Instead of giving it to him, she filled both their goblets and then pushed the flagon to his new brides. If Torin had been born with the element of water he might have been able to handle pouring his own drinks sightless, but it was one of the things he could only do well with an immense amount of concentration. Given that he was likely focusing his energy on the two women in addition to the general feeling of the banquet hall, Tyrai simply decided to save him the trouble. As she finished the task someone sat down beside them. She recognized Krone immediately and allowed herself to be relieved when he sat one of his brides between himself and her. Still, she gave the girl a disdainful look then leaned over and spoke into her brother's ear. "The Scream Taker has just seated himself near us."

"So charm him. He would make a powerful ally." Torin murmured back and Tyrai blanched at his suggestion.

"He's already got a Drakken wife," she hissed, "I won't be forced to compete with another lady of my standing, and he'll already favor her above all the others. The very idea leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

Torin pursed his lips but let the matter drop, and again she was relieved. He'd been so strict with her ever since they left home, and although she knew it was necessary for his image. Being so young made him a potential target for anyone who underestimated his power, and while she had confidence that her brother could hold his own, she knew avoiding any unnecessary confrontations would just be… well… easier. She touched her cheek where he'd struck her, remembering the last words he'd spoken to her before they arrived. "Once I have secured whatever Gems the reaping has to offer, make a point to wander a little from me. Not far, but enough to attract some attention." She realized at the time he'd meant all along for her to drag some blundering idiot back to him, what she hadn't reckoned was his intent to kill in cold blood with such deliberate malice and so little provocation. Part of it she knew was just another display of power, but the other part was borne purely of his Hellsong bloodlust.

For now at least he seemed perfectly content to make small talk with his new wives. He took a long drink from his goblet before going on to ask questions about their homes and families, finding out what their backgrounds were like, and then talking about how their new lives would be different. "You won't have many duties in my household," he was saying, "But there will be plenty of ways for you to amuse yourselves. I anticipate that you will live comfortable lives. If there is anything material your heart desires, within reason of course, I am willing to provide it so long as you cause me no strife."

He certainly had a way with words, Tyrai knew that very well. In a way she was jealous of his Gem brides, since they were guaranteed a good husband unlike herself. She caught herself frowning at the table in front of her, then shook her head slightly. She knew well enough Torin had his own motives for allowing her to come, however much she wanted to believe it was her idea. She couldn't help but wonder if her next husband was one of these sitting around the banquet tables, though she seemed dissatisfied with the possibilities presented to her. Not so the food though, and she plucked a ripe red pear from the center of the table and took a bite.

Reboot - Prized Bride

I'm also finishing up a post, whilst trying to stay awake *stifles a yawn*

Starfire

Otto the autopilot.

@Guess Who

Starfire

Deraen watched John's interaction with the coffee-producing machine quizzically. Why the human would think utilizing force on an automated machine would solve a performance issue he could not begin to guess. He supposed it had to do with their violent nature. When the machine had been returned after he shook it, the Andalite stepped forward to examine it. John hadn't done a good job of putting it back exactly in place, so Deraen pulled it out enough to peer at the wires and tubes in the back. The problem quickly became apparent, the liquid infuser seemed to be leaking. All the shaking and abuse had jarred the bolt loose and there was a puddle on the steel bench indicating that it had been a persisting malfunction for quite some time.

Deraen reached into his left pouch and withdrew a magnetic wand which functioned as both a wrench and screwdriver, and used it to tighten the bolt. Just like that, the problem was fixed. He didn't worry about the puddle, since it would eventually turn to vapor then be absorbed by the ship's life support system and recycled. <This crude machine may yet last another year,> he said to no one in particular. As he'd worked he noticed others appearing in the room. He checked the status of their assignment on the personal screen communicator which was wirelessly connected to the ship's computer. Unsurprisingly, almost all the other crew members had selected the same mission Deraen had.

<It seems we're going to be joining the Babylon IV.> As he spoke, the cyborg Valian appeared and greeted them all. <I awoke without any trouble,> Deraen said in answer to his query, slightly confused. <Does your species have difficulty when waking?> He tried to imagine what such an experience would be like and to be completely honest the idea of not being able to open one's eyes after sleep with a clear and alert mind was rather horrifying.

His hooves clicked on the galley's cold metal floor as he turned, surveying each individual present. There was John Mason, of course, and the petite girl Johanna Hawkins. Stephen Walker, whose appearance and speech suggested he might be disabled in some way. Deraen was unsure of his background but it was obvious that Stephen relied very heavily on his cybernetic modifications. He thought the same of Valian Forsythe, actually, with his prosthetic limbs and eyes. It was unnerving to look at them, who would otherwise be handicapped. Then there was Cy, whose physiology was a mystery though it was obvious he was alien, and Jaydaar whom he had never spoken with but felt a certain kinship with the reptilian creature being that they were both ethnic deviants. Something about Jaydaar was reassuring in that while he walked on two legs at least he was balanced with a long tail like Deraen did, unlike the humans--except Johanna--who looked like they could tip over at any moment.

Starfire

So, who's actually driving this ship?

Starfire

Holy crap it's like I blinked and suddenly there's 10 more posts.

Starfire

Day and night really don't really matter when one is in space. Regardless, Deraen-Losthil-Oray's internal clock kept him on a fairly regular sleep schedule. When he did sleep, it wasn't for more than a few hours. In the back of his mind he knew it wasn't enough, although he had gotten into the habit of consuming the human-made caffeinated substance called coffee which seemed to counteract his lack of sleep. As it was, he'd already been awake for some time when John Mason emerged from his quarters. Deraen had been on the bridge sifting through data streams when the assignments from Starfire popped up on the screen he was using in rapid succession. He read each of them quickly, rejecting the guard duty mission right away. The choice between the siege and escort were a toss up. On the one hand, taking the fortress could have a huge political impact, but if the Babylon IV's Oppenheimium cargo was lost, it would be a serious blow to economic stability. As something of a businessperson himself, Deraen thought the wisest course of action would be to escort Babylon to a safe port. He entered his vote for the escort mission into the computer. If the rest of the crew decided on a different course of action he wouldn't complain, as long as he got paid fairly for whatever job he performed. Even though his choice was obviously the best.

Logging out of the system, the Andalite decided to seek out John Mason, whom he believed was likeminded to him and would probably agree on his choice of assignment. On his way, Deraen paid a visit to his quarters to outfit himself for whatever the day might bring. He put on the X-shaped harness/holster, equipping it with a handheld shredder gun and a Beretta 92FS. The Beretta was a little heavy for his delicate hands but the fact that it was a projectile weapon with exceptionally accurate aim was appealing to him. He supposed if there was one good thing about humans constantly fighting one another, it was that they developed some very effective weapons. He added a few particle-disturbance grenades. In addition he belted on a pair of small saddle-bag like pouches that were already packed with various items that might be useful in the event of an emergency. Deraen did not anticipate they would have to deal with a close-combat situation but it was better to be prepared.

Thusly armed, he found John Mason in the galley. It never failed that when searching out a human, one should always go to its food source. They were highly predictable creatures in that way. John was standing near a viewing window, and while Deraen kept his face turned toward the man he rotated one stalk eye to see what he was gazing at out in space. The bodies and debris floating past were no surprise to the Andalite and the scene did not impact him emotionally. How could it? They were not his people and it was not his war they were fighting, and he was barely a hired soldier.

<John Mason.> he said, projecting his voice into the other's mind, <Have you read Starfire's assignments yet? There are three total, the second is the most noteworthy in my opinion.> The way he said--er, thought "my opinion" suggested that to have a different opinion would mean the dissenter was stupid. <Protecting a shipment of Oppenheimium ore would have a much longer positive impact whereas the fortress on Teta would merely be a shift in political power; those happen all the time and there's no guarantee any lasting effects might be good. From a value perspective, both missions will yield similar gain to us.> Deraen's unearthly green eyes shifted from John to the window whilst his stalk eyes surveyed the rest of the galley behind him. Having finished explaining his position to John, it was as if he were no longer interested in the human, though he did listen just in case he decided to speak up. His thoughts were strategizing the best methods for escorting a trade ship through hostile space.

Reboot - Prized Bride

Edoric's the dangerously unpredictable sort. I wonder how many people out there want him dead. I'm also really curious about Praeth's mysterious background.

Let us become something better than who we were before we read this thread.

petite lizard. it runs. everywhere. all the time. it speaks a forgotten and ancient language both disturbing and enchanting to mortal ears.

Why do these all sound like they came straight out of a Welcome to Night Vale episode?