porkypiny

IC: Voturia - New Atero (The Tower)

"Thank you," ​she sighs, visibly upset (But not angry, I don't wanna set that precedent this early!) ​"I guess I'll be back tomorrow, have a nice day"

​And so she set off to the Anvil Bar, in order to engage in whatever form of intoxication/debauchery/bar-fighting New Atero is more or less kosher with.

​IC: Voturia ​- New Atero (The Tower)

"Oh... I see. That still hasn't fully answered my question though, Is there anything I can do to help?"

OOC: ​Sorry if it sounds like I'm being pushy, I'm just trying to cover my tracks. I really should pay a bit more attention.

​IC: Voturia ​- New Atero (The Tower)

​"I saw a notice about needing pilots and mechanics for some kind of new vehicle, are those spots still open?"

GM IC: Just Another Day.

 

New Atero.

 

A nameless, faceless servant emerged momentarily from the tower, as they did every morning, to post the day's new notices and edicts on the fortress' message board, and remove those that were no longer relevant. 

 

On this day, however, the servant tore every scrap of paper down off the board, giving pride of place to three new missives, before scurrying straight back into the tower. Once the servant was gone and the doors locked, a grimly-looking Matoran lurched up from some obscure corner of the square, picked up one of the torn-down pages, pinned it back onto the board, then darted off again.

 

The three primary notices were printed on pristine parchment, in delicate, stenciled script:

 

Find Fe: A hefty reward still stands for any being who can find and accurately map the location of the settlement known as Fe. Payment will only be given after our own agents have confirmed the validity of the information given. Anyone who wastes our time with falsified Intel will meet with the appropriate punishment. 

 

Pilots wanted: We are seeking experienced pilots and engineers to aid in the testing of a new experimental vehicle. Inquire within. 

 

A reminder: Military Curfew is still in effect. Anyone found outside of their mandated zones after midnight without the properly approved licenses will be reprimanded accordingly. 

 

The fourth notice, the one posted by the dirty Matoran, was a hastily-scrawled, nearly-illegible mess of haphazard scratches. It wasn't written in the traditional rounded Matoran script regularly used in most of the settlements, either, but in the more archaic hexagonal variation that had fallen out of common use decades ago. For those who had the time and patience to decipher the greasy scrawl, the message read:

 

Looknig for help in locatin underwaeter trezures. Go to Anvil Bar, aks for Slim e Jo. 

 

Cliffside.

 

Cliffside had no notice board, but there was still plenty of information to be gleaned from the patrons of Capstone, if one knew where to listen. For example, right out the front there was a pair of injured, dehydrated skakdi who loudly informed everyone who passed them that their airship had been shot down by Vorox a few hours after departing Tesara, and the entire crew slaughtered by the beasts. Normally, such outlandish claims were easily dismissed, but there were others in the bar who claimed to have witnessed the pair arrive in Cliffside... travelling on foot.

 

A rowdy, hungover lout in the back corner was bragging about pulling off some kind of infiltration job on behalf of New Atero. He refused to go into any details, and it was entirely possible that the entire story was a drunken fabrication. The poor man had been drinking all through the night, after all. The strange thing was, though, that for someone who had been spending frivolously all through the night, he still seemed to have an awful lot of widgets in the many pockets of his expensive-looking coat.

 

Finally, a dark-armoured Turaga was slouched in a table near the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone. Turaga were something of a rarity in the Great Barren, and given their high social status, it was rarer still to see one here in Cliffside, of all places. Perhaps he had an interesting story to tell... or maybe he just wanted to be left alone... 

 

Tesara.

 

It was market day in Tesara, and even though it was barely an hour after sunup, preparations were already in full swing. All of the shops and stall owners had already began setting up their displays and unpacking their wares. Only the Fe delegation were absent - they usually set off from Fe a few hours before sunup, arriving in Tesara by mid morning. 

 

Unusually for Tesara, the streets were crawling with guards. It looked like the whole garrison had been turned loose, combing the streets and alleyways, and occasionally stopping to question people. The streets were abuzz with rumours about what might have provoked them, but so far, nothing had been figured out for certain. 

 

Elsewhere.

 

The Jetrax that Taurek had been following had slowed down a bit, dropping down to standard cruising speed, but otherwise didn't do anything particularly interesting. 

IC: Voturia ​- New Atero (Parking District)

The ever resistant Skyblade let's out a defining bang and sputter, the vulgar Vo-matoran turns on her heel and stares daggers at the now smoking vehicle. She turns back around, lets out an exasperated sigh, continues to stomp off towards the residential district, and starts yelling even louder and using language that would make even the most hardened individuals cringe.

On her way home she passes by the notice bored, spots the ​​"Pilots wanted", and inquires within. "Hello?"

​IC: Voturia ​- ​New Atero (Parking District)

An olive green Skyfighter zips through the air and lands with a thud, ​"You useless hunk of scrap!"​, Crack! Voturia punches the interface and the engine and lights whir down. She hops off the craft and walks off towards the residential district, mumbling and shouting various profanities while struggling to keep her possessions in place.

​OOC: ​open to interaction.  

Character:

Name: Voturia

Species: Vo-matoran

Gender: Female

Powers: Resistance to electrical energies

Gear: Voturia’s usual accompaniments include a massively over-sized wench, a sword, a powerless white kanohi Calix, a long necklace made from a chain and a charm that reaches down to her knees, and a tool belt and backpack with an assortment of handy items completing the  thrown together look.

Personal Aircraft: The skyblade

Allegiance/Role: New Atero/Mechanic/Tinkerer/Chemist

Appearance: Voturia’s average matoran height is unassuming and does no service to her sometimes larger than life attitude and imagination, her normally blindingly white mask along with the rest of her body is covered in a matte coat of grease and kicked up dirt, the cluttered pack and belt rattles and chimes with every movement. A single mechanical hand is a show of past failures... Or possibly something more mysterious. Pictures!!!

Personality: In one word, rambunctious. She’s no stranger to disturbing the peace or paying fines for damaged private property, she’s not a dangerous person she just has a knack for breaking things and shooting holes into walls.

Bio: After leaving the MU Voturia was lost, she settled in New Atero as a less than productive and quiet citizen. But when she discovered the various vehicles that became commonplace in Spherus Magna she light up again, that passion eventually evolved into tinkering with various weapons and other gadgets, and then eventually into chemistry trying to find something that could unlock the potential of the matoran, or create more powerful weapons or bigger explosions, something. She's better at taking things apart and breaking them then she is at building or putting things together.

Aircraft:

Name: The Skyblade

Model: Skyfighter

Weaponry: None

Customisation: Slightly faster than an average skyfighter do to the lack of a bulky weapons system, and equipped with an experimental system that requires a being with electrical resistance to pilot it.

Appearance: A standard Skyfighter with an olive green paint job, and lacking any visible weaponry