Techn0geist

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite only stared, Celrys's reach seeming to exceed Del's grasp for the time being. Any wariness they felt about the wreath however had slipped away, trust in the artificer reasserting itself. An electrical impulse, of a sort. He was, somewhere between coy knowing and playful obliviousness, beginning to speak their language. <<Celrys to perform external diagnostic.>> "Celrys to perform external diagnostic...?" The tiniest tonal upturn. <<Celrys to— >> "—test Del I?" OOC: @a goose @Snelly

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Glatorian stared unblinking, taking the engineer's brief cardiologic explanation as given, subconsciously connecting word to sound to substance to function. Optimising their understanding of their frame. Del gave a little nod. This explanation was taking a great deal more processing for Del to wrap their head around. The leap from literal to metaphorical was still just a span too far. Del lifted their hand away from their chest. Clink. The glass of the stethoscope tapped against Del's helmet. The expected thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum was absent; instead the quiet vibration from the cooling fans, running at low speed now, gently sounded into their ears. <<Query.>> "Mind... no sound?" In a surprising few ways, this was true. OOC: @a goose @Snelly

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero The duo returned Lorqua's bow, Ahmoa flashing another rare grin "Oh no, thank you. You're our first clients of the tournament season; if the field is of this calibre, I believe we're in for a hell of a show." Ever the jovial host. Ahmoa restrained a sigh of relief. As much as he enjoyed the spectacle the Glatorian provided, he didn't much fancy their continued company. His partner didn't quite catch himself and exhaled much more heavily than usual. Overcompensating, Mard attempted to mask it with a cheesy smile and a loose salute. "Hate to see ya rush off! Where're you two headed?" He and Ahmoa both felt they knew the answer, that familiar fear for their rare companion washing through their beings again. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun "Nominal," Del asserted, but quickly reassessed. "Optimal. Thank you, Skyra Daring. Del I always look at the glass as half full, ya know?" Again the driver's words, and returning the thumbs-up, had seemed the right thing. Mileage may vary. As before the Ferrumite regarded the device Celrys presented to them, now with a measure of analytical curiosity, reaching out slowly and taking the stethoscope awkwardly between thumbs and forefingers. "you put the buds in your ears," Del repeated in word and act, sliding the apparatus under their helmet and nestling the buds in. They bore a little of Celrys's body warmth. "against the left side of the chest." Again to the letter, they gently placed the disc. The glass was cold and it radiated out— Thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum, thu— Del pulled the disc away with a start, trying to throw it away but stopped by the buds in their ears, the stethoscope clattering against their breast. The sound had filled their ears, their skull, startled the Glatorian. Wide-eyed seconds passed and curiosity reasserted itself. With a hint of caution, they again took the disk and pressed it to their chest. Thu-thumthu-thumthu-thum thu-thum thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum, thu-thum, The thudding was faster but gradually slowed and steadied and stayed steady. "What is..." Del struggled for the words, finding no suitable substitute for the sound, "...buh-buh buh-buh buh-buh?" The obviousness of the impending simile would elude Del, and perhaps Skyra. OOC: @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Snelly @a goose

IC: Del - Floor, Celrys's Workshop, Tajun They did not immediately take the helmet from Celrys, instead peering inside at the new installed "wreath". A perceptive individual would have seen the uniform micro-movements of their eyes and sworn Del was regarding the device with uncertainty. <<...>> Perhaps even suspicion. <<...Maintain awareness.>> "we gotta have a positive outlook." they mumbled as they reached out to reclaim their headgear; it seemed the right thing to say. The helmet slid on smooth and fit only a little tighter than before. The moment it settled on the crown of their head the concealed fans whirred to life, dispersing the last of the implant's accumulated heat. More stretching, and motor control was much closer to acceptable parameters. Del sat now on the edge of the chair, formulating their next query. "Oh, yes, the wreath?" the Glatorian mimicked with an upward inflection. OOC: @a goose @Snelly

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Glatorian cocked their head a couple degrees, holding Skyra's gaze. A droplet of cool water rolled down the side of the bag and dripped off the corner. Lords only knew what buzzed around Del's head in those moments, those thoughts entirely disconnected from the Ferrumite raising their curled hand to return the thumbs-up. Their little finger stayed tucked in this time. OOC: @Snelly @a goose

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Wincing at that last spear blow, glancing but painful-looking as it was, the referee took up both his and his partner's spears, the dull clank-clank-clank of Mard bashing their heads together poorly emulating the proper ding-ding-ding of some arenas' bells. "Cease! Lorqua of the Jungle Tribe wins!" He bellowed. "That was good fighting, you two! I trust you'll bring that and more to the Grand Tournament!" Ahmoa restrained a chuckle at how Mard rolled his eyes; this was a line oft-used by him after a training match, meant to congratulate the victor and encourage the defeated. The duo had not seen such a bout, or indeed any bout, for a time now; so entertained were they by the prowess and ingenuity of the two combatants that their supposed ulterior motive had almost slipped their minds. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite processed the question. <<Colloquial. Status update requested.>> "...Nominal." A pause. Slowly the weight of their legs dragged them down. "...Thank you." Another, gentler thud as their torso slid off the surgery chair and to the floor. Del seemed not to notice, nor mind. After a short time and some experimental wriggling and stretching Del was able to somewhat right themself, sitting on the floor with their back against the chair's base, holding the ice to their head. "Hanging in there?" They queried, looking up at Skyra. The intonation did not betray if they were asking for the meaning of the phrase, or a status update in kind from the driver. OOC: @oncertainty @Toru Nui @Snelly @a goose

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun "and there's another crowd to drown in crying eyes" Under Celrys and Skyra's dialogue they had missed a whole mumbled pre-chorus. Del continued. "and see how that light you love now just won't shine" <<...Temperat-t-t-tures within op-p-erational range. R-R-Reinitialising. Caution advised.>> "there might just be another star that's high and far—" Abruptly the singing stopped, and a worrying few seconds passed. <<Analysing scenario.>> Del blinked twice and their eyes began to again rotate in their orbits, finding their surroundings, then finding faces. First Skyra Daring's, then Celrys's. <<No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> The ice against their head staved off any further thermal spikes as they ran an assessment of the last few minutes. Pinpointed the moment the implant began to experience that hideous heat climbing. <<Helmet removal correlates with increased thermal output and catastrophic shutdown. Wearing helmet correlates with ideal thermal range and optimal performance.>> "Take that helmet off... let me get a proper look at you..." They rolled Celrys's words over slowly. <<Retrieve.>> The Glatorian's slack muscles struggled and ultimately failed to remove them from the chair, motor control faculties taking their time to return; their legs dangled over the edge and their torso sat at an awkward angle. <<...Request. Politely.>> "Helmet... please?" OOC: @Snelly @a goose

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The only light Del saw was the one shining down above the chair; they stared through it, through the surgery's ceiling and through Bara Magna's outer atmosphere. The ice to their head and Skyra's loud, unmistakable voice kept the Glatorian on the edge of lucidity, a gentle hand keeping them from sliding into deepest delirium. <<...>> <<...>> It would be a time before the D3•L3•G8 implant reached safe operational temperatures again. <<...>> <<...>> Del blinked in regular, automatic intervals. <<...>> <<...>> "packed and all eyes turned in" Del's lips just barely twitched. "no one to see on the quay no one waving for me" More an exhalation than a recitation. "just the shoreline receding" Not mimicry. Not a long-gone right-there voice quaking inside a splitting, aching head. "ticket in my hand i'm thinking wish I didn't hand it in" From somewhere basal. Somewhere melodic. OOC: @a goose @Snelly

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The pair stumbled towards the surgery, Del indeed weighing heavy on Skyra's shoulders; muscularly the Glatorian was absolutely fine but the mind, the willpower to move, could scarcely be engaged without risking further damage. The Ferrumite's cooling helmet lay abandoned on the office floor. Passing the threshold, the patient chair was regarded by Del with something like curiosity and nothing like recognition. "He'sss gonna hhhelp you... get betterrr..." The Glatorian made another dangerous push towards original thought, risked another heat spike. "Celllrys help Delll I get better... Skyrrra Daring helppp Celrysss... help Del Iii..." <<C-C-C-Caution: scaling therm-m-mal throttling. B-B-Brace.>> The straw that broke the Sand Stalker's back. Del's legs collapsed out from under them, sending them falling forward, shoulder-checking the chair and wheeling to land flat on their back with a thud that could surely be heard from the reception. In their stunned delirium, the words needed to finish their thought floated errant to the surface; a lesson in manners from a kind, if irritated green Agori. "Thank you..." OOC: @Snelly @a goose @Morgan Yu

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero "Oof! Ouch." Ahmoa proclaimed involuntarily as Lorqua brought Lutenus's axe charge to a stop with her shield-bash. "A tad rough, don't you think?" "Pull your blows, last warning! That looked nasty!" Mard barked at the combatants, wondering how bad Lutenus would feel the bruising come morning. But the counterattack had left Lutenus wide-open, and the referee readied himself to call the fight. Seeing how Lorqua had turned the tables so quickly however, he couldn't count out Lutenus doing the same just yet. So uncannily quick to push the attack, the two Agori wondered how that would translate to defensive recovery and offensive response. IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun Del returned Karak's brief glance as he left the clinic, trying and failing to decipher what was happening behind the blood-red Glatorian's eyes. <<Analysing scenario.>> The information imparted by Celrys gave Del rare pause. The heat climbing inside their head spiked. <<Unknown quantity aided Del I leave isolation. Unknown quantity, voice, dire— >> Del's process was interrupted only briefly by Skyra Daring's colourful freakout, barely even a tick. << —cted Del I find Celrys. Del I find Celrys.>> <<Nemoni. Nemoni. Nemoni.>> Tick. Tick. Tick. Like a skipping record needle. <<Cannot reconcile. N-N-N-Nemoni not I. Del I. Name Del I. I-I-Identity Del I...>> A fierce sweat broke on their brow. Their mind was running hot now, dangerously hot. It had to throttle back, hard. <<Quarantine w-w-when sick people... p-p-prevent-t-t-t making others sick-k-k-k-k-k...>> "Youuu cooontracted thhhe Ferrummm Plagggue..." Del slurred out in lazy repetition, abandoning their usual precision speaking clip. "Theeey hhhave the Ferrum Plaaague..." The helmet, slipping from their hands, clanged loudly onto the floor. Del looked up to Celrys, to Skyra. Their vision swam, their face clammy and their forehead hot with fever. <<Q-Q-Q-Query.>>> "Del I... sick?" OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty @Morgan Yu @a goose @Snelly

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun Del made assessment of their not-father Celrys as he approached, observed, scrutinised. Doing as requested, the Glatorian reached up; the moment the helmet slipped away from their head, the fans which had been silently whirling within ceased. A heat began to rise, creeping. Beneath the Iron Tribal's helmet lay gentle green; not like the lush jungle growth of Tesara, but an ancient forest on a moonlit night. Their eyes glowed dimly, the narrow visor of their headwear no longer focusing teal light amidst shadowed face. <<No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> Not taking their eyes of the artificer until the last possible moment, Del turned their head slowly to the right. The aquarium's shimmering light played across their bare scalp before catching and glinting off a small metal plate, the only exterior sign of the implant occupying a humble portion of Del's skull. Beneath the Celtech maker's mark, Celrys's eyes began to play over the delicate engraving of a serial number. D3•L— Their head, the plate, snapped away to look over the other shoulder to Karak. The intonation, the indignation, was alien to Del, so far versed (for a given value) only in much more measured interlocution. <<Dialogue experiment.>> Del faced Celrys again and, surprisingly loud for the until-now reserved Glatorian, demanded in turn: "What you do him, metal man?!" Immediately they decided the manner of engagement did not match the preceding interaction and resumed a more neutral sitting posture once again, eyes still resting on Celrys. More interestingly, 'What you do him' was noted as well. This function of identity, as they had already with names, would be assessed at a later date. More spirited back-and-forth between Del's companions and the cyberneticist, and the conversation turned to Ferrum's fate. The voice unlike anything else in Del's head arose once more, and their words spilled from the Glatorian's mouth. "I broke quarantine, got us out of Ferrum." A pause, preceding innocent query. "Ferrum... is? Quarantine is?" OOC: @a goose @Morgan Yu @Snelly

IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The Ferrumite sat transfixed by the aquarium for a time, the organic fish flitting and twirling so graceful through the water, the robo-fish turning and darting sharply around in grotesque imitation, eyes struggling to settle on any one specimen. The voice from the far door broke their trance, Del's head snapping towards it. <<Analysing scenario.>> They followed Celrys as he approached and sat and grinned with impish glee, beckoning for their lurid tale and gleaming with garish gold; a picture of nauseating excess. <<Unknown quantity.>> No familiarity passed through the Glatorian's head at all. This man in front of them, this clinic, this city. Not a hint. Del's eyes bored through Celrys's lens and, one more time, uttered the words that had brought them so far across the desert. "Find Celrys. He's your father I suppose." <<Query.>> "Father is?" they repeated, still without answer. <<Clarification.>> Putting together context clues, the analytical mind queried further. "Celrys... is? Celrys... you?" OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @a goose

IC: Sohmak - Fleeing The Battle of Fort Garsi The bruiser began to jog after the geek, a halfhearted few steps before again slowing to a halt. He looked over his shoulder, again trying to see beyond the mist. Jojax was a braggart, the worst kind of braggart; one who hadn't earned it yet. Bloodline and birthright meant jack in Sarke. But she'd courage to step into the ring all the same, courage to fight and claim that right to proclaim her glory and the glory of her Ancestors. And further, courage to take that fire into the real world, standing on the enemy side of their barricade and daring the warriors of Fortress Garsi to cross her. Sohmak couldn't quite profess to have that kind of mettle. But for the wrestler to make it back alive, he may have to. Sohmak gulped, and hesitantly activated his Thermal Vision to see exact numbers. The violently hot Krex seemed to be the only one overlooking their retreat. And there, his sister-in-arms, warm rivulets leeching into the cold soil around her. He shook off nausea as his sight returned to normal. "T'harrak," he spoke in a grave tone, "you trust 'er. Trust me to get 'er out of this mess." Sohmak faced the rest of the crew and barked "Stay long as you can, any heat and you scram." He turned now to the battlefield. "I don't make it back, it's been far from a pleasure." A bitter grimace, and the Spineless Slugger charged out, disappearing from Razorfish;Vaa's view. Outside their cloud-cover, Sohmak now felt more exposed than before he'd entered it. The crew had made good ground back towards their boat; sounds of war still echoed over the landscape, but far from where he stood now. He knew stealth would be a tall ask with the heavy exo-gauntlets he wore, but still he scrabbled through and snuck behind what terrain he could on his approach to Jojax's position, praying it was enough to break Krex's line-of-sight. OOC: @Nato G @ARROW404 @Smudge8 @Geardirector

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Lorqua's back was to the proverbial ropes, not a favourable position but far from out; her ingenuity in using her arm for manoeuvre as well as offense kept her odds roughly even with Lutenus. "You remember my birthday's coming up, right?" Mard suggested, looking pointed at the corded length of limb. "And here I thought augmentations gave you the willies," Ahmoa intoned with half-surprise, half-cheek. "I'm beginning to see the merit. Just keep that creep Celrys on the other side of the desert from me, is all." A flicker of bitterness at the augment tycoon passed through Mard's eyes before he clicked his fingers, turning to his partner with a stupid grin. "Ooh, maybe we could start our own clinic!" The green guard seemed frighteningly genuine about the idea. This loosed a chuckle from the Fire Agori. "Calm down, dear, we're not exactly rolling in denarii. How do you propose to finance this venture?" "My dessert fund?" "Your dessert fund for a thousand years, and it still wouldn't stretch even as far as Lorqua's arm." Ahmoa clapped a hand on Mard's shoulder, looking off into the distance, out across the rolling dunes. "For all we talk down to the man, I hope our Del is in good hands with Celrys..." IC: Del - Celrys's Workshop, Tajun The query was satisfied, the Glatorian none the wiser to the momentary trauma they had inflicted on Karak. As Skyra pounded on and swore at the door of the unassuming abode, their eyes fell on the gold plaque, the word in capitals. <<Celtech.>> Unconsciously they reached up, touching their fingers delicately to their helmet, to the spot on their scalp beneath. The trio piled into what appeared a small waiting room, Skyra falling into a seat with the usual decorum she demonstrated. Del took the chair beside her, sitting rather more deliberately. Del nodded politely. "Find Celrys," they repeated once again, directed at the Water Agori, "he's your father I suppose." The Iron Tribal held their penetrating, unblinking gaze for an uncomfortable few seconds before— <<Query.>> —turning to Skyra, the most familiar face in the room. "Father... is?" OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty @Morgan Yu @Snelly

IC: Del - Streets of Tajun Leaving the buggy, Del turned slowly and took in the sights of their new locale, the sounds, the sensations. Immediately they noted the air was thicker with humidity than Atero, if only just. They took in a deep breath, filling their lungs with it. Cool, fresh. <<Optimal.>> They along with Karak followed Skyra through the winding crevasses and bustling crowds of Tajun, the stone above separating street from sight of stars, their eyes darting from head to head and making a dozen threat assessments a second. The moisture of the oasis settling on Del's iron skin stirred something almost like familiarity, but nothing more than a fleeting feeling. Del's command of spoken word had not yet extended to a distinction between proper and common. They turned to their crimson companion. "Del, I find Celrys. Karak... find Arena?" A pause for processing. "He's Karak's father I suppose?" The weight of the word 'father' had yet to be felt by the Ferrumite. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero The referee let out a low whistle as Lorqua deployed her arm prosthesis; though Celrys and his increasingly ubiquitous work still gave him major heebie-jeebies, let alone his potential familial relation to Del, Mard couldn't plainly deny the mad scientist's quality-of-worksmanship. "Must've cost her some real coin for that thing, to say nothing of givin' up a perfectly good arm." "She must have gotten the leg discounted." Ahmoa's words hung in the air for a long two seconds. Mard kept his eyes on the fight. "This is why I love you," he replied flatly, doing everything in his power to restrain the laugh brimming up from his belly. The crimson guard did not often employ humour, but relished the rare moments he did; a sly grin cracked across his face. "Someone has keep you on your toes, darling." He leaned over the fence, and Mard's shoulder. "Look at Lutenus though. So quick to respond, he fights like a man possessed." Neither realised just how right Ahmoa was, but the metal skull-cap with a Cel-Tech maker's mark did give them their suspicions. Mard saw Lutenus going for the early submission. Did Lorqua have any other tricks up her long sleeve? IC: Del - Streets of Tajun The lights of Tajun illuminated Del's face as the buggy passed under them, through the tight and winding city streets. They were mesmerised by the new locale, their eyes finding themselves unable to settle anywhere. A few Water Tribals caught a glimpse of their yellow-orange through the windows and, having heard the rumblings, met their gaze with a mix of perplexity and trepidation. Skyra's voice broke the trance, and Del turned to attention. The gesture the driver threw was regarded with curiosity, the Ferrumite's hand slowly curling to replicate it without looking. Their little finger was sticking out. "Del, I find Celrys," the Glatorian confirmed. "Skyra Daring find Celrys? Karak find Celrys?" the Glatorian queried. OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty @Snelly @Morgan Yu

IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero The rules laid out, the two Glatorian in position, Mard raised his arm high to the night sky. "Ready!" He yelled surprisingly loud for someone of his stature, summoning an arena commentator's voice from deep down. For some added drama, Ahmoa started drumming his spear against the ring's wooden fence for a count=of-five, earning a grin from his partner. Tack. Tack. Tack. Tack. Tack. Then a pause. Tack. Mard threw his arm down. "Fight!" OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty

IC: Del - Lost Coastlines The two-vehicle convoy trundled happily along, Atero beginning slip over the horizon and out of view. Del turned their state away from Karak and forward again, into the desert deep. Though Skyra had stopped singing, her passenger was still la-la-la-ing obliviously; without the Tesaran's tune to carry them, the melody spun off in a wild, discordant direction. A look crossed their face as the tempo and tone fluctuated, one of intense concentration; experimenting, processing, analysing. One would hope the driver had a tolerance for annoying children. Curiously Del's tune began to settle into a rhythm, a consistency of melody, creeping from the deep; it was indistinct, fainter in their head than the voice from before, but it was... something, from somewhere. But with that came surety. This was a song. Del's face relaxed. As before, they didn't know the words, but still they carried on. Laaa-laaa, la-la-la-la, La-la-la-la, la-la-la, la-la-laaa... The desert stretched for miles and miles and miles on all sides, and the convoy was losing light. But they stayed the course, and the lanterns of Tajun would soon rise to meet them. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Ahmoa nodded at the Glatorians' respective requests. Heading for the storage shed, he glanced nervously back at his partner, not liking the thought of leaving him alone with the two even for such a short time. Mard returned the look but only briefly, still under the scrutiny of their guests. At least this was a part of the job he actually enjoyed; officiating. "Okay fighters!" The green guard cried, slipping into the role of a referee. "Standard arena combat rules apply: no blows to the head, chest or groin. Refrain from use of full-force blows, pull your attacks. In a training setting, you are aiming to make your opponent yield; you will cease combat immediately when your opponent yields. You are not aiming to draw blood, you are not aiming to knock your opponent down or out. Disengage immediately should one of these occur. Attacks made with lethal or maiming intent will result in instant disqualification, ejection from the grounds and disciplinary action from local authorities." Ahmoa returned with a bundle of blunted javelins for the woman and a dulled axe for the man. Handing them off to the combatants, he joined in with the rule-laying. "Fighters will enter the ring and declare their name and tribe, then await the referee's signal to commence combat. Fighters will cease combat if the referee signals such for any reason. The referee's word is final; failure to comply with referee decisions is grounds for disqualification, with ejection and-or disciplinary action where necessary." "As per our equipment loan policy, if you break it, you bought it." Mard allowed himself a cheeky little grin. "Take your marks!" The two Agori moved to ringside, Mard on the inside and Ahmoa out. "If they ask after Del we at least don't have to lie, in our time with them we barely heard anything, about them or Ferrum." Mard heaved a sigh. "I just hope they're alright with Skyra. It's a long way to Tajun, even in her speedy little buggy." "Miss Daring seemed very capable, I'm sure our charge is in good hands." An attempt to reassure himself as much as his oasis. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui @oncertainty Apologies for the delay, all. Convoy can move to Tajun if y'all are good with that.

IC: Del - Leaving Atero You'll be like a babe out there. Skyra's story, or at least the formative meaning of it in her life, did not make it through the bastion of Del's cooling helmet. To the Iron Glatorian it was a dry recounting, and nothing more. When the driver started singing, Del's head turned on a slow swivel to the series of sounds stemming from Skyra. There was meaning in the words, but abstracted from the now. This was not conversation as they had learned over the last few weeks. But there was a sense to it. A sensation. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Skyra Daring the best driver vocal sequence unknown. Imparting no pertinent information.>> But you’re smart, you’ll learn. <<Vocal sequence may not be designed for such purpose. Purpose of intonation unknown. Purpose of cadence unknown. Vocal sequence purpose unknown. Processor stimulus derived from vocal sequence. Processor stimulus derived from vocal sequence may be purpose of vocal sequence. Continue analysis. Participate.>> Quietly, almost hesitantly, Del started trying to follow along with Skyra's singing; not knowing the words, they accompanied her with basic "la-la-la" vocalisations and tried to match the rhythm and melody she produced. With little knowledge of music theory it was largely guesswork, occasionally going off in wildly different directions to the actual song. They turned their gaze away from Skyra and out the side window, towards a brooding Karak who could scarcely hear the two over the roar of his Huracan's engine. IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero Phew, they won't be here long, the green guard thought, and he was sure his partner was thinking the same. Mard threw a thumb towards a sign by the gate with rental pricing for the grounds; one hour, a day pass, and accommodation in the bunk house with facilities use bundled in. Unluckily for these visitors, they'd arrived just shy of the Grand Tournament discounts being applied. "You're welcome to utilise the dummies at any time. If you wish to spar in our training ring, you must inform us so we may serve as referee to your bout." Ahmoa stated sternly. "Training weapons and Thornax may also be supplied on request." He was still wary of the pair and their interest in Del. Everyone's interest in Del. What happened to Ferrum? He asked himself again, and he was sure his partner was thinking the same. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui @oncertainty

IC: Del - Red Star Inn, Atero The time had come to part. With Skyra and Karak making preparations, the two Agori forced themselves to let go of their charge, their dear friend. A painful silence filled the air. All a sudden, Mard grabbed Del's wrist and thrust his flask, full of precious water, into their hand. "Take this," he urged, avoiding eye contact lest he start crying again, "and remember to stay hydrated out there, like we taught you yeah?" "And well-fed," Ahmoa added with a smile, looking into his satchel and weighing how many ration packs to give the Glatorian before shrugging and handing them the whole thing. "All set. Food, drink and good company," the Agori opined, looking over to their convoy. "To be savoured, enjoyed," Del confirmed. The two Agori smiled proudly, in exactly the way parents do. Ahmoa glanced momentarily down at his own shadow, then at his partner. "We ought to be getting back," he stated firmly, slipping into his guardsman persona but not as seamlessly as he'd hoped. Mard did his best to adopt the same brave face, looking up at Del and smiling with quivering lips. "Don't be a stranger, okay bud? You know right where to find us." Del nodded; the training grounds, the Red Star Inn, the streets of Atero, all perfectly recorded. The Agori didn't say goodbye as they departed. Ahmoa, warm as a flickering forge, gave a smile and a short wave. Mard, inviting as a lush oasis, beamed as he gave an informal salute. On some low level, Del began to process the significance of a goodbye, and the absence of one now. They returned first the wave, then the salute, and always the smile. Around the corner, and they were gone. With club-and-buckler across their back, Mard's flask resting on their breast and Ahmoa's satchel slung at their side, Del approached Skyra's buggy and slid into the passenger seat. Awkwardly, the Iron Tribal leaned across to the driver's side and attempted to drape their arms around their escort. "For Skyra Daring, Del I don't want to fight." IC: Mard & Ahmoa - Training Ground, outskirts of Atero "Brave face, brave face, brave face..." Mard chanted as the duo approached the grounds, utterly failing to keep a brave face. Ahmoa, usually a master of compartmentalisation, had a few cracks showing himself. "If there's anyone waiting at the grounds and you're a blubbering wreck, you'll look all the more fool for it," he said, speaking to his partner but directing the words at himself. Then the pair saw something that snapped them both fully to attention and brought them to a halt; a pack sitting outside the gate, and two green figures entering under it. "You don't suppose..." Mard posited, not needing to finish for Ahmoa to pick up the meaning; the two Tesarans from the Red Star. The crimson guard frowned, trying to reason out the situation. "No harm in making ourselves known, we're meant to be here after all." He cupped his hands around his mouth. "AHOY! Travellers! Come to train? Spar?" The two Glatorian still didn't rub Mard right, but playing the friendly proprietors couldn't hurt. "There's an entry fee, y'know!" OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu @Toru Nui @oncertainty

IC: Del - Red Star Inn, Atero Without meaning to, Skyra had twisted a knife. After a pause for thought, Ahmoa turned to watch the driver head out to prep her vehicle, calling after her "We'll be out in a moment." Unheeding of the crimson guard's words, Del followed hot on Skyra's heels, turning back to the duo. "Del I, to find Celrys..." they paused, figuring out the right words to use as they sprung myriad from a dusty lexicon, "...go with Skyra Daring, the best driver, to Tajun." The light, dim as it was, had returned to the Glatorian's eyes. A hint of a smile passed across their lips. Ahmoa returned the faint smile before turning to his partner. The green Agori stared vacantly ahead, through the far wall of the inn. "Are you okay, darling?" He gently took Mard's hand. The seconds before he responded gave his true answer, but the Jungle Agori finally returned Ahmoa's loving gaze with a short nod and a sharp "Yeah." He squeezed the crimson guard's hand a little tighter. "It's been a crazy couple o' weeks, huh?" The facade of bravery slipped from his face a little. Ahmoa was accustomed to being brave for the both of them in a professional capacity, but now found himself similarly disarmed. "It has..." he struggled to say much more, the words catching in his throat. All a sudden, Mard tore himself from the crimson guard and ran out of the Red Star. Del had just about reached Skyra's waiting transport, the Glatorian carrying their club-and-buckler as their only luggage, their only belongings. "Del!" The Iron Tribal had just barely turned around before being thrown off their feet by the unstoppable force that was a grief-stricken and crying Mard, Ahmoa following not far behind. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Mard grappling Del I. Legs immobilised. Combat disadvantage.>> You’re a warrior’s brain... <<Mard unarmed. Mard body language does not indicate hostile intent. Mard vocalisation does not indicate hostile intent.>> ...in a warrior’s body... <<Mard... friend. Query.>> "Is... combat?" Del asked. Mard was stunned by the absurdity of the question, wondering where they'd even learned the word "combat." As Ahmoa helped the two of them to their feet, he couldn't help but begin to laugh and laugh through his tears. "No, silly, it's... it's called a hug. It's like... the opposite of combat. For people you don't want to fight." "For people you care about, dear Del." the Fire Agori added warmly before pulling Del a rather less high-impact embrace. "And know that wherever you go in this great desert, we care about you so very much." Mard piled in again, regaining some control after his outburst. "We're so proud of ya, buddy." Del stood processing for some time, two Agori wrapped around their waist. Eventually, painstakingly, the Glatorian draped their arms over the duo's shoulders and pulled them in close. "For Mard, Ahmoa, Del I don't want to fight." ...but you don’t have to be a warrior. OOC: @Snelly @Morgan Yu

IC: Sohmak - Fleeing The Battle of Fort Garsi Sohmak was an idiot but he was no fool. The look in T'harrak's eyes betrayed her, told him that dubbing her their new warlord was the last thing she needed weighing her down. He felt ashamed... and suddenly, determined, to make right. A discussion to be had back at the fortress, if they made it that far. As their cover of fog drifted away from the scarred terrain, and the forces of Razorfish;Vaa with it, the Sonic Striker came to a realisation. "Where's Jojax?" Sohmak queried in a hushed but harsh tone. "And..." he paused, realising he never learned the disquieting Nahikl's name. He shook his head "Did they make it out?" His answer came with a raging cry and a dull thud. He looked back and peered through the edge of the mist, to a bruised, bloodied and battered purple Skakdi some distance away from them... and the motorcycle-straddling Krex not much farther away from her. He was unsure if the Garsi warrior had noticed Jojax's descent. The brawler nearly called out to his teeth-clenched sister-in-arms but bit his tongue. He growled an obscenity beneath his breath before turning to speak to the rest of the ragtag group. "We gotta go back. She's still got breath in 'er'." OOC: @Nato G @Smudge8 @ARROW404

IC: Del - Red Star Inn, Atero For the first time, Mard and Karak were on the same wavelength. He nodded firmly at Ahmoa, who returned the gesture, the two hopping off their stools and preparing to leave. Further music to the duo's ears. "A splendid idea, Miss Daring." Ahmoa said, pulling a coin purse from his belt and pouring about half more than 'the usual rate' for desert travel out, beckoning for Skyra's hand and folding the coinage into her grip. He lowered his voice to a steely whisper. "That's an increase on your fee. It seems there are parties in our midst with a vested interest in our friend, and you..." he glanced down at her twin katanas, "...would appear to be a warrior, as well as a driver. We'd join your travels in an escort capacity but..." "We don't kid ourselves about how bad we are at fightin'," Mard finished not-so-tactfully. "We ain't even proper guardsmen, we started out in a theatre troupe." Ahmoa heaved a sigh. "...thank you, dear. In any case, should the interested parties prove to hold malicious intent, I trust you will provide your client with not only transport but protection, in an... aggressive capacity-" "Wait, uhh, Ahmoa?" Mard chimed in anticlimactically, just now noting the amount of coinage his partner just gave Skyra. "How are we paying for this 'increase on her fee', exactly?" "It's coming out of your dessert fund," the crimson guard responded, without looking or missing a beat. Caught. It was impressive for a Tesaran to blush that red amidst so much green. However, he could see Ahmoa's lips curl into a rare cheeky grimace, and felt the heat drain from his face. "Del!" Ahmoa called to get the Iron Tribal's laser-focused attention away from the cyborg, Mard waving to the same end. Their head twisted abruptly to stare at the duo instead, their analytical mind seeming to settle after a brief moment. "Mard. Ahmoa." The two couldn't help but smile. "It's time you set out, Del," Ahmoa said warmly. "To 'find Celrys'," Mard added with a wink. "To find Celrys," Del repeated, joining the Agori, Skyra and Karak. The corners of their lips began to twitch upward ever so- Find Celrys, he's your... The Glatorian seemed to slip back into a fugue state, once again mindlessly parroting the voice in their head with a face totally void of cognition. "find celrys he's your father i suppose." Del monotoned just loud enough for the four of them. The corners of Ahmoa's smile dropped slightly. Mard's smile vanished entirely, feeling as though he'd been punched in the chest. OOC: @Morgan Yu @Snelly

IC: Del - Red Star Inn, Atero "It's going to be fun..." Del repeated, visibly puzzling out the words; the meaning, many more meanings, were sitting just beyond a threshold. In time they would return, as long-dormant parts of the Glatorian's brain were reached out to and reawoken. A hitherto-unknown fan in Del's helmet began to quietly hum. Behind and beside Del, the two Agori had stopped laughing but held uncomfortable faux-smiles on their faces. Mard was the first to notice. "On your seven, in the booth. Slow and casual." He hissed out in a whisper, guardsman's instinct kicking in. Ahmoa, as per instruction, turned back towards the bar and glanced over his shoulder past Del. From the corner of his eye he saw two Tesaran Glatorian staring, the more obviously cybernetic of them pointing, right at... Del? Why was everyone so interested in them? No, not them expressly. The Fire Agori turned back to his partner and let his smile drop as the two began to approach the bar. "What happened to Ferrum?' The crimson guard grimly speculated. Perhaps the duo were mistaken, maybe the woman had just recognised Skyra across the Red Star. But the man, the cyborg... no, his half-mechanical gaze was fixed on the Iron Tribal. Mard suppressed a shudder, thinking about the madman Celrys who'd made his name by shoving metal into people and seeing what stuck. He was confident in his read of this one at least; trouble. Del, meanwhile, was making their own independent assessment of the newcomers, their gaze settling past Skyra's shoulder. They took particular note of the cyborg. <<Analysing scenario.>> <<Prostheses present in green Glatorian. Ocular simulacrum replacing eye sinister. Capability unknown. Assume presence of enhanced optical performance. Additional prosthesis replacing skull posterior. Type unknown. Capability unknown. Glatorian body language indicates heightened awareness of Del. I. No present threat. Maintain awareness.>> As with the nervous wreck of an Agori they'd briefly had as a drinking partner, Del stared right back at the Tesaran cyborg, their eyes bouncing from between the organic and cybernetic one and showing no sign of settling on either. OOC: @Snelly @Toru Nui

IC: Del - Red Star Inn, Atero The guardsmen were at first taken well-aback by the Glatorian's, Del's, response to Skyra; she'd got more out of them just now than the pair had managed in a couple weeks. After the initial shock subsided, Ahmoa couldn't help but beam. "Del. A fine name indeed." He turned to his partner, expecting to be met with a similar grin, and instead was rather dismayed to lay eyes on a pithy half-smile. "Is... everything alright, dear?" Mard tried to perk up, the crimson guard could tell he was failing. "Hm? Yeah, no, I'm happy, for... Del I mean. You don't... think I was too hard on that guy just now, do you?" Ahmoa sighed and laid a soft hand on the Jungle Agori's shoulder. "It's been a stressful time for us, Mard. We're finally getting somewhere with helping our friend, it's only natural you want them to feel safe at such a critical juncture. Protected." "Loved," Mard added abruptly. Again Ahmoa was surprised, but not so much as before. The Jungle Agori was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve, it was one of his favourite things about him. He hadn't anticipated he'd feel so strongly about Del so quickly; however, he couldn't rightly say he didn't feel the same. The Fire Agori let loose a chuckle, gently jabbing Mard's arm. "Your paternal instinct is showing, dear." Mard rubbed his bicep, laughing in a way that indicated he knew his flame a) wasn't entirely wrong, b) was an obvious hypocrite. "Shut up." Del, oblivious, continued to converse with Skyra, continued to point at their own face. "Del, I... find Celrys. Skyra Daring... the best driver... to Tajun?" The expression they wore could almost have been expectancy, perhaps even anticipation. OOC: @Snelly