[Game Thread] Prelude: When Debts Come Due

[Aeternis]

Wain eventually steps cautiously forward and selects a pin once most of the rest of the crowd has died down, folding it in his left hand but not attaching it anywhere. Perhaps the pin will prove useful, but Wain's not about to go displaying Nixon's emblem anywhere on his person. His long coat has plenty of pockets, of course, but he doesn't want to offend the man by putting it in his pocket blatantly, the vigilante wonders if that might be taken as an insult.

As soon as he has one of the devices, the tall human returns to his position against the wall, out of the way, and watches the others. Some, perhaps most, are taking this a bit too well to be trusted.

Wain is not shocked or entertained by the woman's feeble attempt to seduce Nixon, given his small observations of her he is not surprised that she'd at least try that approach. For Wain, that's merely another tactic, a means to an end, neither laudable or worthy of scorn any more than a choice of a different tool for the same job would be. He does, however, note the name "Kennedy", which he supposes is one of the old barman's enemies, at least judging by the context this "Kennedy" would probably be a rival crime lord known for being a ladies' man. Perhaps, the vigilante wonders, "Kennedy" might be someone to look for, to play against Nixon - a little private war, perhaps, and when one gunman vanishes from in the middle, no-one will notice until he's already untraceably far ahead of the pursuit. Nothing to rely on, of course, but something to keep in mind.

One thing Wain is beginning to decide is that the bird on the bothersome kid's shoulder is perhaps more a threat and less of a bird-brain than the kid himself. He notes to take aim there, first, should the removal of that team become necessary, as without the bird Wain expects that the other would be rather directionless, useless in a fight.

[Yogge Mothi]

"Ooh, how pretty." Rathnaya admires the eagle on her new pin as she attaches it to her chain shirt. "Such an attractive item." She looks around at her new companions and observes their interactions. The woman who tries to seduce Nixon gets her attention first. She knew enough about men and women to understand what Ambrosia was trying to do. However, the men Rathnaya feasted with after battles always treated her as a younger sister. Never had Rathnaya really considered her sex appeal.

She looks down at herself in a brand new way. 'Well,' she thinks to herself, 'I have bigger breasts than her. I know that's a good thing. I'm also much taller. Is that good?' Calling upon the only reference she has, Rathnaya considers her parents. 'Mother's nine feet tall, and Daddy loves how her breasts are at the level of his face, so yeah, being tall must be a good thing.' The young woman smiles, filled with new found confidence at her physical beauty.

The draco-feline in the room also interests Rathnaya. She approaches and waits until he is no longer conversing with the others. "You have a very beautiful fur coat," she compliments as she extends her hand to Kamala, "My name is Rathnaya. Tell me, what do you do to give it that healthy sheen?"

[GeoAvanti]

Kamala is unaware that the woman had approached him until she speaks, for whatever attention he had given her earlier faded with Nixon's demonstration of the magic he apparently commanded. The topic of Rathnaya's query startles him at first-- he had not expected most of these individuals to be fully aware and capable of making coherent compliments. She is, however, much too human-seeming for his liking--

BE NICE!

The voice is so strong and insistent that Kamala follows it out of instinct. He gently takes her hand, bows deeply, and touches the top of her hand to his forehead before rising again. After a few short moments, he seems slightly confused, as if he is not quite certain what possessed him to act in such a manner. He quickly dismisses this feeling and answers readily.

"Your compliment is well-received, Rathnaya," Kamala says slowly, making sure his diction is clear. "To answer your question, there are two tasks I seek to fulfill routinely. The first task is that I bathe regularly." His mouth stretches in the thinnest trace of a smile. "This concept seems well beyond some individuals." He bites back a laugh and the imaginary smile fades. "The second task is that, during such intervals, I provide myself with blends of ingredients to make oils in order to maintain my coat and scales. They have a variety of uses, from fragrance to texture and color. It is a common practice in my household."

Oddly, he finds himself seeking a compliment of his own to deliver, coaxed as he is by the incessant nagging in the back of his mind. Perhaps, he reconciles, this woman is something much more than she appears. He considers her behavior that he has seen before he speaks again.

"You... are very certain of yourself, to be so unconcerned with these events." His voice is stiff; he does not sound used to granting compliments. Abruptly, a better question enters his mind, one which may even explain the itching behind his skull. "You wish someone to inform your kin of your whereabouts. What are your kin?"

[Yogge Mothi]

Rathnaya blushes at the compliment, the light bluish tint in her white cheeks revealing her icy blood. "It was the way I was raised," she explains, "My mother's Suriel, a solar angel in the service of Kord, the Brawler, and my father's name is Gilgamesh. He was a great king on the Material Plane who challenged the gods themselves to avenge his best friend's death and gain immortality." She shrugs her shoulders before continuing, "When you're raised by beings such as they, you can't help but develop a strong sense of self. I am who I am; Rathnaya, the Snow Angel. I fear not the flame nor death, because though they may take my body, neither can scathe my soul."

She peers into Kamala's eyes, her intensity and presence nearly overwhelming. "Who are you, friend?" Rathnaya does not understand the depth of the seemingly simple question she's asked. She smiles at Kamala, her self-confidence radiating in an almost palpable aura.

[Alesch]

"Well, it happens more often than I'd like, as I said" the President says, his face lined with a frown, "So I've taken to protecting my investments, so to speak. You really don't have to worry about what happened to my old Aides, you look like a capable bunch. I'm sure you'll be fine". The President clasps his hands together and his smile returns. "Instead of dwelling on past mistakes, I'd like to discuss the tasks that I have for you today. They should be easy enough, so things should go rather smoothly".

The President points his remote control at the black box with the glass front. With the press of a button the glass comes to life, displaying an image of a frozen plain. The sound of blowing wind fills the room, as the image pans over to show a glittering spire of ice rising out of the tundra. The top of the icy spire is crenelated, so it is obviously not a natural structure. "An associate of mine," Nixon explains, "has apparently run into some kind of difficulty. I don't know exactly what the problem is, but it's interrupted the shipments of ice that I use as part of my brewing process. The ice under that spire is special, you see. I will need some of you to pay my associate a visit, and find out what is keeping him from delivering the ice that I need. I need that ice, and I don't care what you have to do. Just make sure that my shipments resume".

President Nixon presses another button on his remote, and the image on the screen disappears. In its place is a thin green line, running horizontally through the center of the screen. "The second thing that I want someone to look into is, well, why don't you listen for yourselves". The President presses a button, and the thin green line comes to life. A strange, distorted voice sounds from the box, and the green line wavers and shifts with each word.

"This is Captain William R. Donald, Commander of the HMSS Victoria, sending out a general distress signal," came the disembodied voice of a man. A loud, rhythmic wailing sounded in the background. The voice continues, "We have been boarded. An unknown enemy latched on to the outside of the ship, and tore its way through the hull. All combat personnel are compromised, and myself and the remaining command crew sealed ourselves here on the bridge. The intruders have reached our generator, and we are currently losing power. We are requesting evacuation. If anyone is out there, we are requesting evacuation". The message begins to repeat itself, but gets no further than the captain's name before Nixon presses a button, causing the sound to stop. The word "Mute" appears in the lower left corner of the screen, and while the box no longer produces any sound the thing green line continues to shudder through the captain's message.

"We received that message earlier this morning. Normally, there wouldn't be much that I could do about it, but luckily for Captain Donald I've recently found myself with some hired help" Nixon says with a grin. "I would like to send a group of you to the Victoria. If you can, then by all means see if you can lend some assistance to the beleaguered captain. What I want you to do, however, is to find out just what it was that has boarded this vessel in the first place". The President points the remote at the television, and presses another button. The screen goes dead.

"So," he says, "do I have any volunteers?"

[Gath]

"I'd like to meet this Captain Donald," said Ambrosia.

[Craigthulu]

The message from the strange window appealed to Deep Root. “Tore its way through the hull”, “Combat personnel compromised”, everything about it sounded delightful. I will go and find this “Hull Destroyer”, it sounds agreeable. Captain Donald should cease worrying; it will make his muscles tired and stringy.

[Aeternis]

Wain, seeing that the room is quickly sorting itself into "mildly potentially competent" and "miserable failure", steps forward and off to the side, just close enough to know that he would prefer to go along with Ambrosia and the tree. After all, they're the two who've least shown to him that they will be unreliable allies, with the cat-lizard... thing... coming in third. Though as it seems to be tolerating the naive winged girl overmuch, that third place finish is nowhere near close.

As an afterthought, Wain wonders if this ship has a hole in its hull, why it is not sunk. Perhaps, he reasons, it is like the newest Palauan warships, iron-hulled, smoke-belching behemoths that have compartmentalized hulls to minimize hull breach dangers. In any case, Wain wonders if he could kill everyone in Nixon's oddly-mobile establishment by simply attaching the pin to an underwater doorway and letting the bar flood, then affixing it to a dry doorway to drain the bar out. Not that Wain expects he could operate whatever magic moves the thing, much less know how to move it back to Trova Palau, but it's an option to keep in mind should the situation demand it.

[Yogge Mothi]

Rathnaya's intense concentration is suddenly torn from Kamala as she hears Nixon explain the first assignment option. "Ooh, ice!" She gazes at the picture, her eyes twinkling as though they were snowflakes in the midday sun. "I'd like that one, President Nixon, please, sir." The half-angel's excitement just seems to keep growing as she wraps her arms around herself, "I can just feel the cold air on my skin already!"

[GeoAvanti]

Kamala remains motionless as Rathnaya conveys the circumstances of her lineage. Parts of it are slightly worrisome to him, but it may go on to explain her particularly unusual temperament.

"Kamala is the name you may call me by," he answers her when she queries his name.

Before he has a chance to make any further comment, Nixon presents them with two jobs, apparently left open to them to choose which they would rather fulfill. He listens and observes intently when required or expected to do so, working over the potential problems of each mission.

On one hand, an associate's shipments of ice are being delayed for unknown reasons. On the other, a ship is being attacked by unknown boarders, for unknown reasons. Something about the latter bothers Kamala-- he does tries to make it a point not to go into fights without knowing what he is up against. He is certain of his abilities, yes, but he is also not stupid.

He also considers who has already spoken out. The Captain's plight seems to be earning the best results for volunteers, with the wretchedly out-spoken woman and the tree apparently taking a fancy to it. They are apparently being joined by a human, as well. Kamala wrinkles his nose. He does not favor being in their proximity in something as dangerous as a boarding action.

So far, only his new acquaintance has spoken up for the ice-shipments. He reconsiders for a moment before deciding that her presence is preferable to those boarding the ship. "I will see to the source of the stopped shipments. The ice must flow."

[Ange]

Riordan considered the two options provided, and also eyed those who made their decisions before him. The more he deliberated, the less choice he had, and that was concerning; but really, leaning towards anything evoked such a large feeling of dread and impending doom that he felt like he was deciding between sleeping in a pit full of vipers or sleeping in a bed of nails: either way, he wouldn't come out the other end having enjoyed himself.

Ice? Had anyone noticed what he was wearing?
A ship? Why don't you try balancing on a swaying ship with hooves?

Oh me sweet gods.

"Awrighty. One tic, sah. Time ta ask Lady Luck fer advice." Riordan shoves his fist into his coin pouch, fishing out a single gold piece. He gives it a kiss before flicking it into the air and catching it on his palm and flipping it onto the back of his other hand. "Heads, ice. Tails, ship. Let's do this."

Dice 1: Heads; 2: Tails:

1d2

2

"Well... guess I'll join ya'll ta check oot what's goin' on wit tha' Capt'n then," Riordan declares, stepping towards Ambrosia-and-co. "Hope ya don't mind."

[Gath]

Ambrosia watched amusedly as the satyr flipped a coin to find his destiny. She'd done this a few times herself, but noticed that the coin was rarely the deciding factor in the end as mostly she'd overthrown the coin's ruling. Leaning over to see the coin as it landed, Ambrosia heard the ruling and asked, "Are you sure you got your sides straight? I don't mind you tagging along, but I'm getting a strange vibe from Wain over here. Might want to reconsider. Best two out of three?"

[Eviltedzies]

Chad watched with a calm amusement as people began to sort themselves into groups. His eyes seemed to be gazing out into space as if completely zoned out. Yet as the groups began to take form Chad began to get a brilliant idea, well brilliant by Chad's standards. "Hey Ray. We should totally go chill out in the snow. Hehe it's been foever since I've made a snow man and I'd love to see what makes this ice so special." Ray seemed to contemplate Chad's sudden spurt of semi-intellectual thought. "The last time we were in snow you had me buried in your snow man's head. That and you kept throwing snowballs at me." Chad grinned. "Awww it was fun though. You got me good too when you made all that snow in the tree fall on me." Ray's posture shifted ever so slightly as if he was proud of the fact. "The snow works for me, but I swear if you throw one snowball at me I WILL make you regret it."

Chad gave Ray a soft stroke on the back of his head. "Chillax bro we got business to take care of first." Ray seemed rather at taken aback. Chad seemed to be becoming more focused than usual and that more often than not did not bode well for the future. With the discussion seemingly settled, Chad hopped up from the sofa and moved to stand beside Rathnaya. Chad's grin still stuck on his face as he nodded to the angelic woman. "Looks like we'll be chilling together for awhile. This is going to be fun."

[Ange]

Riordan arches a brow at Ambrosia's words, and he eyes the silent cowboy with an incredulous expression. "Oy, lad, if yeh got a problem with me, ya jes got ta say it. Better we sort it all out wit a brawl than let it fester, y'hear?"

Ten again, the satyr noted to himself, has 'e ever spoken, ever?

Nonetheless, Riordan flips his coin twice more.

Dice Heads:1, Tails:2:

2d2

2, 2

Total = 4

"Tree outta tree says ta ship," he notes with amusement. "Lady Luck wants a rendezvous wit me on a cruise ship, metinks."

[Kyojin]

Who went with him mattered little to Rick, what did matter was which mission would better show off his skills. What those skills were were pretty clear cut to him.

"It sounds like I might be of use dealing with you ice problem. Sounds like some renegotiation might be in order."