a goose

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) A fresh smile flitted across his lips for the briefest of instants, but it was not the practised facade he had worn before – there was a hint of wryness to it that made it seem almost real. His eyes changed, too, bearing a spark of what might have been admiration (or perhaps just amusement) as he began to re-appraise her. "Three days… and here you are, lucid, articulate, and without any obvious physical symptoms of withdrawal. There may be hope for you yet; I had anticipated your affliction would be much more severe." As he returned to his seat, his false smile was back in force. "And it is an affliction. I don't hold with those who believe addiction to be a weakness of character – it is an ailment, though perhaps closer to a handicap than a disease. So you see, when I turned down Crucius' recommendations, it wasn't personal; it was merely pragmatic. I would no more trust an addict than send a lame man to walk the perimeter." He explained himself so matter-of-factly and with such easy confidence as to make his words feel obvious, a simple matter of common sense; it was easy to picture him standing before an audience of nodding heads and murmured agreement. "I believed the risk outweighed any potential value you might have as an asset, but I am not afraid to admit when I am wrong. So… prove me wrong." His perfect smile struggled to resist the urge to become a smirk. "There are gaps in the information you have provided me. I need to know everything she told you – especially if she gave examples of patients. Did she mention any age groups? Or anyone who wasn't afflicted?" IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) Cacia smiled, a tad condescendingly. "Oh, we're already fully booked until the games are over. The earliest appointment I have is for two weeks after the closing ceremony." OOC: @Toru Nui @Jesse Pinkman

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The corners of his mouth twitched briefly downwards, but the icy glare with which the Ghost met Taldrix was unwavering. “Would it surprise you to learn that Crucius speaks rather highly of you?” He did not leave her time to answer. “He tells me you’re fastidious, intelligent, trustworthy. Such traits are in short supply around here, as I’m sure you know. Better yet, you’re a born sceptic – a quality I greatly admire.” He took another sip of tea; his eyes did not move. “Mindless obedience has its uses, of course; still, I have a great deal more respect for those who show real initiative. The nerve to question orders, to question authority, is something I consider to be invaluable. Crucius knows this about me, and he has – on more than one occasion – suggested you be brought into our circle of trust on exactly that basis. He believes you are able to think for yourself; you and I, of course, know better." He stood, still holding his teacup, and walked to the window as if to gaze out upon his kingdom, though the drapes still obscured much. "I know everything that happens in this compound, Taldrix. See everything. Were tea your only vice, you would likely have found yourself up here much sooner. So I ask again:" He turned and fixed her with four cold eyes, any pretense of a pleasant smile abandoned. His voice, though just as soft as before, became a shard of ice which pierced her and held her, frozen in place. "How long has it been?" OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) As he sat back down, his smile was warm and his eyes were calculating. He was taking her measure – more than that, he wanted her to know that he was. He slid Taldrix's cup and saucer across to her, and took a sip from his own. "That ought to keep any jitters at bay, for the moment. How long since your last hit?" OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: The Ghost (The Tower) The Ghost took a seat opposite her, accepting the proffered notes. "Interesting. Thank you – Taldrix, isn't it?" Even as he spoke, his eyes were scanning the papers. At first, Taldrix was left with the uncomfortable feeling that she was still being observed just as closely, as if he kept one pair of eyes on her while the other read, but it wasn't long before the notes had his full, rapt attention. His singular focus was a strange thing to behold; the speed at which his eyes moved, the slightest twitchings of his mouth as he read, it looked as if he were in some kind of manic trance. As detached from the world around as if he were dreaming, but as awake and attentive as a dune-cat eyeing its prey. This close, she could see that her initial assessment was even more accurate than she might have expected: his face was uncannily like that of an Agori, barring the most obvious difference. The eyes were real, there was no doubt about that – even that mad artificer in Tajun had yet to create a mechanical eye that could so convincingly mimic the real thing – and there was no scarring or stretching of the skin to suggest surgical implantation. He was real, flesh and blood… and metal. His hands, she noticed, were black metal, intricately built and meticulously maintained, a far sight from the jury-rigged chrome of his followers' augmentations. "This… this is… Lords. A full accounting of the progression of symptoms… fascinating, but…" Whatever he had intended to say next, the whistle of the kettle cut him off. "Ah. Pardon me for just a moment." As he stood, he left the notes upon the table. "Say – would you care for a cup? Tesaran tea; good for the nerves." OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: (The Tower) As Taldrix produced her papers, Trem immediately looked to Kast, who was squinting at Crucius' signature with a furrowed brow. It might just have been a matter of literacy; however, the anxiety in Trem's eyes – in both guards' eyes – suggested otherwise. This, it was clear, was quite definitely not standard procedure. Kast looked back to Taldrix, making no effort to disguise his suspicion or his hostility. He seemed just about to say something when, instead, he moved his spear aside, and Trem followed his lead as he turned the handle and allowed the metal door to swing open. The way was clear. The first thing that hit Taldrix was a wave of cool, stale air. As she entered, the door was slowly shut behind her, leaving nowhere to go but forward, up the steep, spiralling stone staircase. It wasn't merely cool inside – it was cold, cold enough to make her shiver, as if she had stepped back into the frigid North where the Skrall had made their home. Metal pipes wound along the walls, encrusted at their joints with a thin layer of ice. There were no windows in this part of the tower; the Ghost's first order upon making it his home had been to have them bricked up. Instead, the stairs were bathed in a sickly yellow glow from some dull light source far above. All that was left now was the climb. As Taldrix ascended, she noticed salt on the stairs, crunching underfoot. It was a typical Northern solution to snow and ice, and despite the frost upon the pipes, it kept the stone steps from being rendered any more hazardous than they already were. The cold seemed less fierce the further she rose, perhaps in part because she was growing accustomed to it, but the ice on the pipes grew thinner and dripped with condensation. The light, too, was brighter this close to the source; she was almost at the top. And there, at the summit of the stairs, was another metal door. Before she had even had the chance to knock, she heard a voice call out to her from inside: "The door is open; please, do step on in." The man who spoke stood at the other end of the room beyond, his back to her. Far from the oppressive heat outside or the stifling cold below, the temperature within seemed perfectly tuned, if just a little on the cool side. The room itself seemed fit for an emperor, with chairs and tables of Tesaran wood scattered around it. One seemed to be for eating, another a desk, another again set aside for a board game, and finally there was a chairless, long table with a map draped across it. "Please, please sit – I've just put the kettle on." His voice was soft and warm, and as he turned he gestured towards a square table, across which two comfortable chairs faced one another. Semi-opaque drapes hung over the window, and the sunlight that filtered through was rendered warm and dim. Even with her eyes having adjusted to the dull illumination of the stairwell, the man's dark skin and garb made it difficult to discern his features. He didn't look all that different from any Agori – taller, certainly, but he would still come up short against most any Glatorian. His most striking feature, however, was only accentuated by the murky light: As Taldrix looked upon the Ghost, four glowing blue eyes looked back at her. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Kast & Trem (Staff NPCs; The Tower) The old watchtower had stood for generations, a marker of the Gatherers' unstoppable expansion. Once it had marked the border of the Stronghold; now, it lay well within them. Though well-preserved, it had fallen into disuse over time; after all, what good was a watchtower so far from the walls? There were simple parapets by the wrought iron gates that marked the entryway to the Stronghold, and those more than sufficed. The old watchtower became nothing more than a landmark, and an imposing feature of the Stronghold's silhouette. As with so many other things, it was the arrival of the Ghost that led to the change. It made a certain sense; between its intimidating height and the Ghost's reclusive nature, it allowed Him to stay separate and above the rest of the Gatherers, while still at their heart. Its restoration seemed to be something of a pet project for the Ghost and His chosen few. As a result, the past few months had seen a constant buzz of activity around the site, which had only recently settled and solidified into a small guard presence. So it was that when Taldrix arrived at the Tower, she was met with only two sentries standing at its doors. Kast and Trem – true believers, who had sworn themselves to the Ghost's service from Crucius' clan. As was increasingly typical of those favoured by the Ghost, they bore the clear scars of cybernetic augmentation, and both men held in their hands a strange spear, wires coiled along its length. As their fellow Gatherer approached, they crossed their spears to block the door and glared at her in silence. If she had permission to enter, it was up to her to prove as much. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Xoros (NPC; Creep Canyons) The mountainous Bone Hunter heard the approaching wolves before he saw them, the rumble of their engines carried by the canyon’s echoing walls. “Gatherers!” He roared, spittle flying from his mouth. “To arms!” IC: Wolf (Creep Canyons) “Take out the riders first; leave the pack leader to me." Wolf's narrowed eyes were alight with something colder than vengeance and more blistering than hate, as if she carried in her countenance the burning soul of the desert itself. The roar of her Kaxium was a thunderous war-cry, one that shook the sands beneath its wheels almost as much as the pounding feet of the Rock Steeds. The Bone Hunters were holding position, forming up with the riders in front. They intended to form a roadblock with the bodies of their Steeds, forcing the wolves to a stop; the riders would use the height advantage to strike down at them, while the Hunters on foot would flank the bikes and box them in. It was a standard tactic, one that had spelt the end of many a caravan, but it was not without flaw. The Kaxium's roar grew to a scream as it continued to accelerate, and Wolf locked furious eyes with Xoros. OOC: @Wotz IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) Somnii breathed a long, tired breath, one she hadn't even realised she was holding. She could feel what little strength she'd called to arms leaving her, exhaustion weighing heavily upon her shoulders. Her negotiations had taken more out of her than she anticipated, but the important thing was that she would soon know her captor. Once she knew who held her leash, she would be one step closer to securing her freedom – or so she hoped, at least. OOC: @Toru Nui IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) “Of course! If you’ll allow me?” She held out a hand, gesturing for the return of the device. OOC: @Toru Nui @Morgan Yu IC: Celrys (Workshop, Tajun) Celrys held his head in his hand and laughed. “Of course. My apologies, Del. Miss Daring, look after Del for a moment while I get their helmet.” Without waiting for a reply, the artificer began making his way back to his office. OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) Tueris, who had until that point been – if anything, too – forthright in his warnings, seemed remarkably unbothered by the development regarding the sick scout, even as the tension was rising in the rest of the room. “Very well, then. See to your scout; the rest of us will wait for you by the elevator.” He turned his eye back to Somok, and ever-so-slightly inclined his head. “Thank you for your time, Elder.” As he walked out the door, he did not wait to see if the rest of the party followed. Some small part of him hoped that they might not. OOC: @Toru Nui @oncertainty @Burnmad @Nato G @~Xemnas~

IC: Celrys (His workshop, Tajun) "How curious." His thumb brushed absently against his lips, as he began pacing slowly towards Del. "Perhaps with the implant rendered temporarily non-operational, we're getting-" Celrys, who until that moment had appeared almost to be in a trance of his own, seemed suddenly to remember he had company. He massaged the back of his neck as he turned back to Skyra, smiling uncomfortably. "My apologies, Miss Daring. Just… thinking out loud." OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist

IC: Cacia (NPC; CelTech reception, Tajun) As she returned to the reception, Cacia saw that the customer was still examining the device. "Anything catch your eye?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Morgan Yu IC: Celrys (His office, Tajun) "Has this happened before? The singing?" Celrys' voice was barely more than a whisper, as if to avoid disrupting the Ferrumite's reverie. There was a tenderness to his expression, along with a strange sense of melancholy. OOC: @Snelly @Techn0geist

IC: Tueris (Staff NPC; The Precipice) Tueris' posture relaxed ever so slightly, his relief at having to accept only one new addition to their party apparent to anyone watching closely enough. He turned to look at this 'Xyde,' sizing them up. "We would be fools to turn away a good medic, plague or no. You are welcome to join us." His tone had markedly less warmth than his words, but there was no insincerity in his expression. "Still, I would urge you to consider your responsibilities here. What becomes of your patients, if you do not return home? Or your family?" OOC: @Toru Nui @Nato G @oncertainty @Burnmad @~Xemnas~

IC: Wolf (Creep Canyons) "I had heard rumours, but… this is something else entirely." The Bone Hunters' new leader was not to be trifled with, it seemed. Wolf glared at the party with a renewed intensity. "The pack leader – he's wearing trophies. Sand Tribe bones." The disgust in her tone was palpable, the first time her companion had heard any emotion seep into her voice. "We should teach them how it feels to be hunted for sport." OOC: @Wotz

IC: Wolf (Creep Canyons) As the pair approached, the figures in the distance grew clearer, confirming their fears. Bone Hunters – seven in total, three of them atop Rock Steeds, though neither of the Wolves had seen their like before. At first they simply appeared to have unusual colouration, their scales an oddly metallic hue; on closer inspection, the truth was significantly more troubling. All three Rock Steeds had been outfitted with cybernetic enhancements. Black wires and silver pistons had been woven into the muscles of their legs, their feet almost entirely replaced with brutal metal talons. One of the three was even more extensively modified, armoured plating grafted to so much of its skin that it looked almost like an automaton, only its underside still exposed. It was this silver steed that led the pack, and where they walked the sand seemed to shimmer beneath their feet. IC: Xoros (NPC; Creep Canyons) Riding the metal monstrosity was a vicious-looking Hunter, tall and broad enough to have passed for a Skrall. It was his colours that made it clear he wasn't, black and grey, his armour decorated with bone and feather. He carried a strange spear in one hand, its coiled wires and strange assembly similar in style to the cybernetics of his steed. Two of the Bone Hunters who were on foot carried similar weapons, though only the rider's was adorned with colourful feathers and the skull of a Vorox. The others carried knives, shortswords, and Thornax launchers. The rider's silver steed, his armour, his spear – all were symbols of his station. He was one of the faithful, a loyal follower of Crucius and the Ghost that commanded him. He was Xoros, Zeskbane; his conquests were written in Tribal blood. And he was itching for some action. OOC: @Wotz

IC: Somnii (Bone Hunter Stronghold; Somnii's Cell) "Nope – that's all you get. For now." There was steel behind her eyes, the best show of confidence she could muster. For the time being, it would have to be enough. OOC: @Toru Nui

IC: Wolf (Atero; Kagnii’s Used Wheels) "You named your bike." It was an observation, not a question; after taking the necessary time to process that information, she revved her engine, pausing only to consider Kagnii. He would not soon forget this indignity, but he was small-time, unconnected. Without his Spice or his goons, he would have great difficulty making trouble for them in the future. Her concerns satisfied, she turned to her fellow Wolf. "Let's ride." OOC: @Wotz