darkSpyro

In the year 8276-79B, a new planet was discovered on the fringes of the galaxy. This planet – which, upon discovery, was named Lama Yaqaan –was previously uncharted and completely mysterious to the rest of the known galaxy. Studies of the planet immediately commenced, and it was discovered that not only was the planet suitable for harboring most known forms of life, but the world was also inhabited by a civilization of people who lived there.

It was uncertain what the people’s technological capabilities were and how much they knew of the galaxy around them, so both the Brotherhood of Worlds and the Galactic Order each sent a small team of agents to land on Lama Yaqaan and secretly observe the new alien species. The Brotherhood of Worlds, being a friendly and benevolent organization, sent their operatives to examine the people’s culture and society, so that they might better understand this newly discovered species. The Galactic Order, being mistrustful and wary of a new civilization, sent their agents to investigate the alien people’s military technology and weapon capabilities, so that they may be prepared for a possible war to come.

Each team of agents was sent – unbeknownst to their rivaling faction – and each team successfully made it to the planet’s solar system, which was far away from the rest of the civilized galaxy. Unfortunately, each team of operatives arrived at the solar system at nearly the same time. Spotting and intent on eliminating the operatives of their opposing faction, the Galactic Order ship immediately pursued the Brotherhood of Worlds ship. The Brotherhood ship, hoping to use Lama Yaqaan’s atmosphere to shake off their pursuers, led the Order ship into the planet’s atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the planet possessed traits that none of them could have anticipated. From some type of radiation or other unknown factor, both ships were rendered inoperative, their technology suddenly going nonfunctioning. Caught in Lama Yaqaan’s gravitational pull, and with their ships being reduced to nothing more than metal shells of what they once were, both teams crashed onto the planet. Everyone survived the crash, though some may have sustained minor injuries. Not only that, but they were trapped on a planet where neither their ships nor their technology could work, and where lived an undiscovered alien species that was possibly unaware of life beyond their world. Worse yet, both ships crashed relatively close to each other, so the meeting between the agents of the two rivalling alien factions is inevitable.

Rules:

• I think we all know the rules here. X3
  

Character List:

*Listing Format
Username: Character name

THE BROTHERHOOD OF WORLDS:

Wylrin: Plagarius Dottore
Lunarz: Rexar Scourger
Cynder09: Vuxta Nabali
Waaksian: Beeboh Zeeblbreex

THE GALACTIC ORDER:

Wylrin: Elim Melvyn
Cynder09: Syndral
Waaksian: Morph Mitosm
Lunarz: Gohrlon Jalis

Character Sheet:

Name:
Age: (Keep in mind that our characters are five years younger here than in High School vs. Aliens. Also, if you want, you can give their actual age in years, then the equivalent of their human age, if your alien has a shorter or longer lifespan than humans.)
Gender:
Species: (You don’t have to describe everything, just put the name of their species.)
Faction:
Personality:
Appearance:
Other:

Special thanks to Cynder09, who is the Idea Master and helped me come up with many of the aspects of this roleplay.

//So can we have original characters separate from HSvA, I'd assume we can have new characters, right?//

((OOC: You can, though there will also be our characters from High School vs. Aliens. So if you can manage your current characters and still make more, then go for it! ))

Name: Elim Melvyn
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Species: Targibbon
Faction: The Galactic Order
Personality: Elim’s overall outlook and personality is one of indifference. Not much matters to him or affects him in any significant way unless it interferes with his work. He tends not to become attached to anything or anyone, having been trained at an early age the skills needed to be a spy and, should the need arise, an assassin. He carries out his work without remorse or regret, having no qualms with doing what he needs to in order to protect himself and gather intelligence for the Order.
Appearance: Elim is humanoid, but his appearance would never pass as human. His skin is amphibious, being slightly damp to the touch and cool green in color. He has large eyes that are completely red-orange, without pupils or irises. Being an amphibious life form, he doesn’t have any hair, his ears are merely two small holes in the sides of his head, and he doesn’t have any fingernails, either. Other than these frog-like traits, Elim’s body structure is otherwise human-like.
Other: As an amphibious being, Elim’s skin will burn upon contact with salt.

Name: Plagarius Dottore
Age: He is the equivalent of a human 32 year-old, but he's actually about 62 Earth years old, as Corvonians have about double the lifespan of humans.
Gender: Male
Species: Corvonian
Faction: The Brotherhood of Worlds
Personality: Plagarius is, in every sense of the word, a gentleman. Formal and polite, courteous and kind, he is the type of person who could never so much as harm a fly. His demeanor is very optimistic, though not to the point of being overly bubbly and energized. Instead, he possesses an air of calm, one that seems to signify wisdom, not apathy. His face is usually adorned with a kind smile, of which is often an expression conveying his caring, fatherly nature. While he does have a parental sort of wisdom, he can often seem very much like a child at times, too. He’s overly inquisitive about the world around him, and always sees the best in the people around him. He’s also a very talkative sort of person, very eager to socialize whenever he can with whoever will lend him an ear. His manner of speech and his enthusiasm may seem eccentric at times to some. Despite this, he can be a very serious individual when it is required of him and he upholds his duties diligently and almost obsessively. He is very proud of his status as a doctor – or, school nurse, in this particular mission – and can always be counted on to help alleviate any physical or psychological trauma.
Appearance: Plagarius is humanoid in form, but he’s distinctly more bird-like than an Earthling. He has feathers covering nearly every inch of his body, which are black in color and very soft and smooth in texture. These feathers are very fine and small, similar to a penguin’s, giving his body a sleek and shiny look. His beak, in contrast, is stark white. Unlike a normal bird, the keratin that makes up his beak covers his entire face, from underneath his chin to his forehead. Thus, his entire face has a hard texture, seeming perhaps more like a bird’s skull than a bird’s face, and his curved beak is the most predominant feature. Like a bird, he has no visible ears, instead just having two holes in the sides of his head which are obscured by his feathers. His eyes are like an eagle’s, being a brilliant yellow, but they are far more kindly and far less sharp and piercing. Instead of fingernails, he has small, slightly curved talons which are incredibly sharp, but he has long since learned how to avoid accidently injuring other people with them and normally wears gloves just to be safe.
((His appearance is very similar to that of a plague doctor: http://orig09.deviantart.net/3...pig-d85606n.jpg Please note that the image is not my own, and all credit goes to the original artist.))
Other: Plagarius has the tendency to make very bird-like noises. He’ll chirp when pleased, or squawk when taken aback. On his world, he is a licensed doctor, and thus, knows more than his fair share of medicinal knowledge.

Name: Rexar Scourger
Age: 20 in his species years aswell as human years, His species can live up to two or three centuries
Gender: Male
Species: Skargoran
Faction: Brotherhood of Worlds
Personality: Meek and caring, Rexar isn't very fond of violence but more of the idea that he could form new allies and skills. Rexar hates offending anyone so he often tries to voice his opinions in a way that won't cause any bad feelings. Although he knows that battle is inevitable he is disgusted at the idea of combat, even though his species is known for it. He tends to give his enemies the benefit of the doubt, knowing that their viewpoints are just different and not necessarily wrong. Rexar isn't afraid to stand up for what is right, however, it can be seen through this that he has a bit of a tough side, despite his hatred of combat.
Appearance: Rexar is 5'7" and has bright red skin and purple eyes. He's a bit on the small side in terms of muscles and is rather slim. Rexar has four arms which end in four fingered hands and a small dinosaur-like tail. He has a small square head and two tiny antennas that pop out at the top that end in tiny balls. Rexar's eyes are purple, with gold speckles as irises. Rexar wears a black outfit with white X's on the front back, and sides, all connecting.
Other: Extreme temperatures such as extreme heat and extreme cold don't affect him as he can change his blood from warm to cold and as drastically as needed, aswell as his skin having the ability to harden and thicken. He can see fairly well in the dark, due to his planet being of one side complete darkness and the other complete light, Rexar growing up on the former, therefore he can see in light but it takes him awhile to adjust sometimes and he can get a bit dizzy and disoriented if there's a rapid change in lighting.

((OOC: I understand that. Accepted! I'm really interested in what caused this guy's transformation from Brotherhood to Order. We might not get to it in this roleplay (or maybe we will...?) but there's always the other roleplay where we can get hints about the cause of this guy's transformation. :3))

ooc: Resident Idea Master reporting for duty. x3

Name: Syndral

Age: 21

Gender: Female

Species: Zvarranik

Faction: The Galactic Order

Personality: Syndral is calm, quiet, and introverted. She does not care to socialize with anyone, really. She also typically expresses very little emotion, and takes her job rather seriously. She is highly intelligent, and takes great pride in that.

Appearance: Her true form is tall, being about 5'9 in height, and also very slim and slender. Her muscles are well defined, but she still has a very skinny form. Because of her form, she is very quick and agile, but her physical strength is not very impressive. She has jet black scales that cover her body. Her scales are sort of rough and rigid, with a sort of gravely-like texture. Her eyes are sapphire blue, with her pupils being narrow slits, like a reptile's. She has sharp claws on her hands and feet, which would be like any lizard's claws. She also has sharp fangs that are said hold venom, so they would resemble snake fangs. She also has two, small, white horns, with a smooth texture, on top of her head that curve backwards slightly. To give you a better idea of the length, they're about six inches or less, so not very long at all. Like some reptiles, they lack external ears. Her species in general are flat-chested. Other than these features, her body type is basically human.
Her suit is navy blue and tight-fitting. It covers her whole body, going all the way up to her head, only leaving openings for her horns and face. There is a communication system built into the suit just over her inner ear, which is dark grey in color. There is a strip of dark grey metalic material just above her brow that is used for a holographic screen that drops down over her eyes. There is also a dark grey utility belt built into the suit. There is a dark grey circular metalic chest piece built into the suit. The back of the suit has a dark grey metalic peice that appears more mechanical and covers most of her back.

Other: She has the ability to withstand extreme heat. However, the cold will leave her weakened, if not drained completely of her strength.


Name: Vuxta Nabali

Age: 30

Gender: Female

Species: Sagabi

Faction: The Brotherhood of Worlds

Personality: She is generally soft-spoken, with a warm smile, and a certain look of kindness in her eyes. With a sweet, melodic voice, she certainly has a calming presence. She always seems to be in a good mood. Despite how friendly she can be, she seems quiet and a little shy. She rarely approaches people to start a conversation, unless she's doing her job. However, she has a way of sensing when someone may need someone to talk to, and she's always willing to lend an ear.

Appearance: She is about 5'5 in height, with a curvy body, and she's a little on the chubby side. She's mostly humanoid in appearance. She has pointed, almost bat-like ears, and big, round yellow eyes. She has fluffy, padded paws for feet, and hairy hands. She is covered in short, navy blue fur. She has bright neon blue, bio luminescent spots. She also has a long, bushy, prehensile tail like a monkey. She also has Patagium, furry parachute-like membrane that stretches from wrist to ankle like a flying squirrel.

Other: She has excellent hearing and vision. There is hardly anything she wouldn't hear or notice, making it nearly impossible to hide things from her. She also has an excellent memory. With her padded feet, she can walk silently. She has a tendency to hum or sing.

((OOC: Glad to have you on board, Idea Master! Accepted. :3))

Name: Morph Mitosm
Age: Male Kwuerks typically live up to 50 Earth years. Morph, at this time being 19, is approaching middle-age. He's in the "late thirties" of his lifespan.
Gender: Male
Species: Kwuerk
Faction: The Galactic Order
Personality: Temperamental, pessimistic, and difficult to work with. He's highly anti-social, and can be quite sarcastic and rude. He much prefers working alone, and doesn't handle missions requiring teamwork very well. Despite this, he does his job and what needs to be done to the best of his ability.
Appearance: Morph is taller and more thickly built than most of his kind, with a fat-muscle body type, and a height of 4'4. He has dark grey, velvety skin. The points of his single antenna and tail are covered with bright green hairs that stand up on end when he's stressed. His green eyes are cat-like and have no visible irises. His hands and feet all have three stumpy digits, and he has two rows of pointed, obsidian black teeth. When not wearing any particular attire required at the time, he usually wears a simple jumpsuit, most commonly in a dark, metallic green color. He'd prefer not wearing anything, as he doesn't exactly have anything to hide, but walking around on a foreign planet with nothing but skin protecting you isn't particularly wise.
Other: Hates physical contact and has cat-like behavior, you know the drill.

((OOC: Accepted! ))

Inside of a large, underground facility, strange, alien creatures were keeping surveillance and going about other duties. One of these creatures was sitting hunched over a computer screen, seemingly bored with its work. Its uninterested eyes suddenly furrowed in confusion, then widened in awe.

“Sir!” it called, throwing a glance towards its superior officer. “You need to come see this!”

Another of the creatures walked over to where his subordinate sat, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look at the computer screen. His eyes squinted at the screen skeptically, before slowly taking on a graver look in them.

“What… are they?” he ground out severely.

“Two… unidentified objects, sir, entering the atmosphere from outer space. It’s unclear just what they are.” As they watched, the objects on the radar quickly plummeted downward, until they seemed to crash.

Swiveling around in his seat, the lower-ranking officer asked questioningly to his superior, “Sir… the objects landed not far from here. Should we send a research team to-“

“No,” interrupted the superior in a stern tone. “We’re sending the troops.”


Within the now grounded ship belonging to the Galactic Order, a figure shifted a bit from where he lied on the metallic floor. He raised his head a fraction of an inch, his large eyes blinking slowly in almost a dazed or disoriented manner. For a few moments, the agent didn’t seem to recognize his surroundings, or understand why he was currently sprawled out on the floor. All he could register at the moment was a dull pounding in his head. Bringing a hand up to rub his temple, his fingers came back covered in an almost clear liquid – his blood.

This seemed to instantly snap the Targibbon out of his daze, clearing his mind and putting him on high alert. Though he still wasn’t certain what had happened for him to end up this way, he now knew that something horrible must have gone wrong, and that there may be danger lurking about.

He tried to get up on his feet, but this was a mistake, for the moment he attempted to rise, he found that he had neither the strength nor the coordination to do so. Slumping back down to his original position in resignation, the agent took the time to try to find out what happened, and what his current status was. From the way he had been unable to get up just now – not to mention his strange location on the floor – he knew that he must have lost consciousness. He had probably hit his head on something – or something had hit him – if the blood on his temple and the pounding in his head was any indication.

Looking around, he saw that he was in the interior of a ship, but something was wrong. His surroundings were pitch black and completely quiet. There was no light coming from any of the ship’s systems, nor were there the tiny little noises they tended to make. It was as if the life had been sapped out of the vessel. This was extremely disconcerting, for what could have caused all of the ship’s systems to completely shut down like this? He didn’t know. Whether that was because he simply couldn’t recall due to his still rather stupor-like state, or because he had never known to begin with was uncertain. What was certain was that this was a bad situation, and he needed to work towards resolving it.

As much as Elim wanted to get on his feet and find out just what had happened, he had little choice but to remain where he was and recover from his sudden loss of consciousness.


“Mr. Scourger? Ms. Nabali? Oh please, do tell me you are alright!”

Not far from where the Galactic Order ship had crashed, another vessel had met the same fate, only its occupants belonged to the Brotherhood of Worlds. One certain occupant had his feathers ruffled in a fit of worry. The past few minutes had been very chaotic, and now the bird-like creature was greatly concerned for his companions.

It had all been fine just minutes before. They had made it to the solar system of the planet Lama Yaqaan and were just in the process of deciding how to approach the planet in a stealthy and unnoticeable manner. Then, out of nowhere, the Galactic Order had attacked. The enemy ship had fired upon them ruthlessly, damaging their vessel and nearly taking out half of their ship’s systems. In a desperate attempt to evade them, the Brotherhood agents had entered Lama Yaqaan’s atmosphere, trying to shake off the ship that was so intent on destroying them. That’s when everything had gone wrong. All of their ship’s systems had gone completely offline. It must have been something the Galactic Order ship had done to them, the Corvonian surmised.

Whatever the cause had been, they had plummeted helplessly through the atmosphere, unable to do anything to escape the planet’s gravitational pull or even help lessen the impact of their landing. They had crashed violently into Lama Yaqaan’s surface, though the doctor had managed to strap himself into one of the bolted down seats, thus escaping serious injury. Now, having freed himself from the chair’s restrains, he called out into the darkness, hoping his comrades were similarly uninjured.

“Mr. Scourger? Ms. Nabali?” he cried out again, desperately. “Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

Syndral was in the arms of one of her robots, Motherbot, who was then known as Makina and was simply a silver colored android. Her lifeless body lay limp on the floor, aside from her arms. Just moments before they reached the planet's atmosphere, Motherbot had grabbed Syndral and activated her force field in order to protect her. She had sensed something amiss and only had moments to act. Even as she lost power, her arms remained wrapped around her master.

The Zvarranik slowly blinked her eyes open, at first only getting a blurry glimpse of her surroundings. Her body felt rather sore, and it took her a moment to realize she was laying on top of her robot. It was when she tried to get up that she realized that her robot was still holding onto her. Syndral pried the mechanical arms off of her and set them down alongside the body. She glanced at her robot, who didn't appear functional. She would have to check her systems in a moment. She sat up just enough to raise her head and get a better look at her surroundings.

The ship appeared to be in bad shape at first glance, and as an engineer, this greatly concerned her. She took note of everything being quiet and dark. While nothing appeared to be working now, she hoped everything was still functional. She wanted to get up and check everything, but she still felt sore. So Syndral raised a hand to her brow to activate the holographic screen built into her suit. However, nothing happened. It didn't seem to be working.



The Sagabi was still in her chair, and had barely managed to strap herself in just in time before the crash. Still, the event itself left her more than a little shook up. It took her a moment to recover from being disoriented. Her eyes slowly opened, adjusting more easily to the darkness of the ship. While the darkness would normally be soothing to her, it wasn't in this case. The ship didn't seem to be fully functional, which was really worrying after previous events. She hoped nothing was too severely damaged. More importantly, she hoped her companions weren't severely injured.

Vuxta's ears twitched at the sound of a voice. It sounded as if her Corvonian companion was alright at least. "Yes, I hear you... I'm alright for the most part I suppose..." She muttered a reply with a shaky voice. Her hands were still tightly gripping the arms of her chair.

Name: Gohrlon Jalis, However he goes by Jalis.

Age: 250, his species rarely breed due to his species living for at the most a Millennium and not wanting overpopulation, he's considered a teenager in his species

Gender: Male

Species: Cloroks

Faction: Galactic Order

Personality: Incredible Neutrality explains Gohrlon, at least in terms of his faction, he simply wanted something to do and not necessarily agreed with the views of the Order or the Brotherhood, but was merely indifferent and wanted to explore and go places. He's aswell indifferent to killing or violence, he believes isn't necessary but also isn't not necessary, it just depends on situational preferences, if he'd lived closer to the Brotherhood he would have signed up there, but would have still maintained a neutral attitude towards that Faction aswell. He seems to live for experience and thrill, wanting to do dangerous activities and not really caring about the dangers. Stubborn most of the time and quite sarcastic.

Appearance: Gohrlon is 6'1 when standing and 4'11" when on all fours. and enjoys to walk on all fours whenever possible as his appearance is more that of a Quadroped. He has a purple body with accents of navy blue blended in and a fairly widened stance when on all fours, he has dark blue spiked plates down his back, he has large paws and razor sharp retractable claws. he has a fairly large build but not chubby, more built than anything. He has a hunch like a bulldog. Gohrlon has a medium sized face, it's appearance is sort of like a short snout dog, aswell as some characteristics of a bat such as his ears, nose, and fangs. Gohrlon is in possession of two medium sized tails with crescent shapes at the end. On the other hand, Gohrlon can also stand on his two hind legs for long periods of time as his bones have the ability to shift and change to fit his stance. When standing he is much more human-like, having broad shoulders and a large chest but a smaller waist and then widened legs.

Other: He is fairly well versed in combat, mainly with weapons and not hand to hand. His bones are able to change so that his appearance doesn't seem deformed when he changed his way of standing.

//Actual post to follow aha. Sorry, I've been gone for two days at a friends house ahh!!! Trying to catch up on HSvA, OC, PM Rp's, and this now aha.//

((OOC: Accepted! :3 Also, are you going to be using Zurgon in this roleplay? Or is he young enough to where he's solely in High School vs. Aliens?))

//Zurgon's first mission was to Earth, he wasn't a part of the Brotherhood but his father was and that's why he was able to go on the mission.//

Inside of the Brotherhood's ship, a pile of red was stuck to the ceiling, possibly one of the crew members who sadly got splattered and didn't make it...Or that's what someone else would think in the darkness, it was in fact one of the crew, except, not crushed and not dead, just terrified out of his mind and clinging onto a pipe on the ceiling. When Rexar opened his eyes he was exceptionally happy, not just because he had survived, but because of the darkness. Normally the ship the crew traveled in was bright and hard on his eyes, and even at bedtime some lights still bleeped and blooped and shone colors so it still wasn't very pleasant. But this was pitch black. Rexar surmised that it was night outside, as not a single bit of light shone through, however this may have been due to the blockage of the windows from whatever debris that had covered their ship upon impact.

Thankfully, Rexar could see, and he had also heard his name being called out. "I'm okay, and not terrified in the least might I add." His voice a bit shaken. "What happened? And...And more importantly, wh-what do we do? Maybe the door is still functional?" Rexar hadn't been on a lot of missions and the ones he had been on were never dangerous, this however was, and he didn't know what to do or how to function in the situation.

"Is anyone injured? I can see in the dark so, if you need me to retrieve anything I can, maybe I can try to turn the power back on?" Rexar wasn't sure of himself, which resulted in him asking so many questions, he was never sure if he was doing the right thing or if he should be doing anything at all, he wasn't well versed in anything really, and that made him feel very lackluster compared to his comrades.

-----

At a completely different crash site, in a completely different ship, and in complete contrast to the red blob in the Brotherhood's crashed ship, laid a blue blob in the ship that belonged to the crew sent by the Galactic Order, and that blue blob has been hit fairly hard on impact. Gohrlon had been tossed back and forth as he refrained from using a seat belt or any safety measures even when he noticed the ship was going down, mostly due to his attitude of just not caring even in the face of danger. However, the bulldog-like creature was a bit disconcerted as he felt a fair amount of liquid on his paws, something he immediately recognized as blood, however he felt no wounds that would have shed any blood and immediately understood it wasn't his blood.

Gohrlon had hunched himself up and was leaning his back against the wall of the metallic ship, doing so with a clang. He had waited for any response from his teammates, thinking they would have said something by now and when they didn't, the sarcasm kicked in. "So, I'm just going to assume you're all dead then." He spoke with a slightly gruff voice, although not so much that it was off putting.

“Oh, thank the stars!” came the immediate and clearly relieved voice of Plagarius after he had heard his two companions’ responses. “I thought you had been hurt, or – or worse!” he told them, fear evident in his voice. It wasn’t often that the Corvonian stuttered like this, but he had been greatly disturbed by the events leading up to the crash, the crash itself, and the possibility that his comrades – of whom he still hadn’t gotten the chance to know very well – might have been injured or killed. He ruffled his feathers slightly, almost as if he was chilled, trying to pull himself together and tell himself that everyone was alright, everything would be fine.

He wasn’t doing too well with that.

“When the Order ship appeared and fired at us I thought we were done for that very moment,” he spouted out in a quick and almost hysterical way. “But then we entered the atmosphere and, oh, they must have hit us with something! I cannot fathom what could have made our systems go inoperable like that! We were sitting ducks; it’s a wonder we’re still alive! The Order must have lost sight of us, or they want to take us alive! Oh, I don’t doubt what horrible things might happen to us if they should capture us!” The Corvonian was very talkative in a normal situation, but in his state of near panic, he was now chattering on nonstop. It was a nervous habit of his when he was very worked up.

Pausing for a moment in his anxious ranting, he squinted into the darkness, trying to find his companions but unable to see anything, for Corvonians had terrible night vision. All he could discern was that Vuxta was the closest one to him and that Rexar was… above him? That’s where it sounded like his voice was coming from. Fumbling around in the pitch blackness, Plagarius eventually bumped into a chair and, blindly reaching out, his hand grazed an arm, which he assumed was Vuxta’s. Following her arm down to where her hand was grasping the arm of the chair in a death-like grip, he immediately took her hand in both of his own. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief, holding onto his comrade’s hand almost as if he believed that if he let go, she would disappear and he would be left alone in the darkness.

“Thank the stars,” he repeated, only this time it was a whisper, small and almost helpless sounding. It was at that moment that he heard Rexar speak up again, inquiring as to whether anyone was hurt. Plagarius immediately snapped out of his anxious state, his doctor persona immediately rising to the surface and taking over the moment he heard the word “injured”. While he was terrified of what had happened and anxious about the condition of his companions, the doctor in him shoved this emotion aside. Right now, there was the possibility that someone had been hurt, and the physician could not allow his own feelings to stand in the way of his duty.

“I’m fine,” the Corvonian answered Rexar’s inquiry, his voice sounding much more composed and professional now that his doctor instincts had kicked in. “Are the two of you alright? I need to know if you sustained any injuries, no matter how minor.” Any other person probably would have expressed some concern for getting the power back online, but Plagarius was a doctor, not an engineer, and so his main focus was his companions’ condition.

Vuxta had remained seated for the moment, taking deep breaths, just trying to calm her own nerves. She listened to her companions, and peered out into the darkness, trying to pinpoint their exact location. Her superb hearing coupled with her own night vision made it easy to discern where they were. She could see that Plagarius was closer to her, but Rexar was apparently above her. She couldn't get a decent view of him from her sitting position, though.

She noticed her Corvonian companion head her way. She was about to call out to him, when he bumped into her chair, and then she figured it was too late to say anything. She didn't mind when he grazed her arm or grabbed her hand. In fact, holding her hand actually made her feel a little better. It was a comfort knowing he was there. When he whispered helplessly, she was about to soothe him, when Rexar spoke up once more.

"I'm alright. Nothing feels broken or anything." The Sagabi answered softly as she unstrapped herself from the chair. She turned around in the chair, placing her feet on the seat part, while resting her hands on the top of the back part. She pulled herself up, bringing her back feet up to where her hands were. She perched there like a monkey would sit on a branch, her tail twitching restlessly. Now with a better view, she surveyed the ship. She noticed Rexar on the ceiling, clinging to a pipe. "Mr. Scourger, what are you doing up there? How did you even get up there? Please come down, and do be careful." She said gently. She sighed. "We should check the ship for damages, see if everything still works."



Syndral was currently knelt beside her robot, who was sitting upright against the wall now, trying to check her systems for damages. She couldn't see, and her tools weren't working, so she had to go by touch alone. Through her scales and the gloves of her suit, it was really difficult to tell anything. All she could tell was that nothing appeared to be broken, but she still wasn't at all functional. Her suit wasn't either. The holographic screen didn't work, and the heating system wasn't working either. She was afraid that nothing was. There must be some sort of interference, but she couldn't find the source of the problem without her computer system.

With a sigh, she just quietly sat there, with her head lowered. The Zvarranik was at a loss. She couldn't even begin to tell how bad the damages were to the ship at the moment, let alone her own equipment. She didn't know how she would manage to fix the problem if she couldn't even find out for sure what the problem was. To make matters worse, she was completely without technology for once. Even her own robot wasn't working.

Syndral gently placed her forehead on Motherbot's. It was an unknown Zvarranik gesture to other races, but touching foreheads was actually a sign of affection. Since the mind was considered the most valued part of their body, touching another's forehead was a way of saying you trusted someone with your deepest thoughts and secrets. During times where one was sick or injured, or before goodbyes, it was a way of saying that your thoughts were with them and that they would be on your mind no matter what the circumstance. Syndral didn't like the thought of being on this mission without her technology and without Motherbot.

When Gohrlon spoke up, Syndral gave an irritated sigh and raised her head. "If you would actually take the time to check the status of your teammates, you would not jump to such a conclusion." She stated, trying to maintain a monotone voice and not show any sign of annoyance.

Morph pushed himself out of the metal crate he had shut himself in before the ship went down. During the impact, it had dislodged itself from the others and was thrown quite a far distance. It wasn't a very wise choice for shelter, but he wasn't dead, so it worked out.
He stood up, only to feel overwhelmingly lightheaded. Using the box to support himself, he tried to recover. It took a few minutes, but he was able to speak again when he heard a brief exchange between two members.
"Hey, you sound perfectly fine, how about you get off your *** and try to help some people," he hissed to whoever made the unhelpful comment, pushing his fingers hard into his forehead. He was sore, and his head was still spinning. Regardless, he finally looked up from his hand and noted the agents around the room. Despite it being in near complete darkness, his vision was sensitive enough to light to detect basic shapes. Some were getting up, some were still down, and some were bleeding. A few were trying to tend to the injured. It didn't look there were any casualties, thankfully.

Elim squeezed his eyes shut – which made the interior of the ship darken slightly, as the Targibbon’s red eyes glowed just a little in the dark – at the sound of his comrades’ bickering. Now was not the time to get all emotional, as other species tended to do – something he’d quickly found out upon leaving his home planet. Their arguing was only making his throbbing head hurt worse, as well, so he hoped that they’d stop talking soon.

He tried to rise to his feet again, but found that he couldn’t quite manage it. Instead, he merely got himself up into a sitting position, so that hopefully he could get a better look at his surroundings. His eyes scanned the darkness, and though his vision certainly wasn’t perfect in complete blackness such as this, he was accustomed to seeing in lower light conditions on his planet, so he could make out the forms of his comrades when they shuffled about.

Every now and then he felt as if he might slip back into unconsciousness, so he scooted back until he was propped up against a wall, so he wouldn’t hit his head on the floor again just in case he passed out again. The Order agent didn’t like being in such a weakened, compromised state, but he had little choice but to accept it until his head cleared and he could function normally again. So while he wanted to be up and trying to find out what had happened to their ship, he knew he’d be useless in his current state, and so he resigned to simply trying to retain his consciousness.

At Vuxta's command Rexar let go of the pipe and landed firmly on the ground, thankfully he could see otherwise he would've injured himself, although injury wasn't much to worry about at the moment considering what they'd just went through. Rexar could see that Plagarius was tending to Vuxta, his doctor-like nature made things difficult sometimes, it was a good quality but it seemed to take over him, and even if anyone had been injured, the most important thing to do would be to get the power back on so everyone could see, then Plagarius could tend to injuries, but there was no use doing so in the dark.

"Yea, maybe I can find the power and try to turn it on? Then we should try to get out of here, I'm worried that the roof is gonna collapse on us." It made senses logically for Rexar to afraid of such a thing, but aside from the logic, it was his fear that made him say that. Scary situations made Rexar flustered and threw him into a panic, and the adrenaline that was rushing through him from the crash wasn't helping at all.

-----

"No need to get so pissy, I called out, I waited for an answer, I'd consider that just as good as physically checking or asking if anyone was okay. As Gohrlon laid back against the wall, he noticed that he was propped up against a window, although it seemed that this window had been buried, which didn't really bother or excite him, but it did give him an idea. "I could probably go into another room, check if there's a window that isn't blocked, punch it out, I mean, considering the crash we just had, I doubt the doors will be functional."

Since there was nothing she could do to fix her robot at the moment, Syndral carefully rose to her feet. She felt a little sore still, but she was otherwise fine, except for maybe a slight headache. Although her comrades may not have fared as well as she had. Two of them sounded fine, since they had the nerve to make snide comments. However, she hadn't heard anything from the Targibbon yet.

Using her horns, she could tell where each of them was, even though she couldn't see. At first, she was concerned that Elim was severely injured, possibly even dead. Then she detected movement, and figured he must be alive, but apparently somewhat hurt, since he couldn't yet rise to his feet. Slowly walking through the darkened ship with her arms outstretched to hopefully avoid bumping into anything, she attempted to make her way over to Elim. When she had appeared to reach his heat signature, she relaxed her arms and knelt down to his level. "Are you injured?" She asked quietly, almost gently.

The Zvarranik likely would have checked the ship's status first, but she had a feeling that nothing was working, since her own equipment wasn't. Plus, it would be really difficult to check anything in the dark. Her home planet had long days, so she was used to a blazing sun and a bright atmosphere. Even in dark areas, she had technology to light her way. So she had poor night vision. Her only clue were her horns, telling her where heat sources were. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to guide her or help her check any machinery. Although she did want to check the status of her teammates. Being without technology was a frightening thought by itself, but she didn't want to be alone on an unknown planet, facing who knows how many dangerous threats.

The doctor was very relieved to hear that none of his companions seemed to have been injured in the slightest. He suspected they were shaken and obviously frightened by their experiences, of course, but nothing seemed to be physically wrong with them, which he was very grateful for. It was good that no one had been injured, but without the immediate need for his medical skills, the Corvonian’s doctor persona was retreating back into the depths of his mind to be stored for later use. Thus, his more skittish, frightened demeanor – which had been forced aside at the possibility of someone needing medical assistance – was beginning to rise to the surface again, which was made evident by the way his grip tightened its hold slightly on Vuxta’s hand.

The return of his anxiety was also made obvious by the sound of his voice. “Oh… oh – yes, yes, of course,” Plagarius tweeted fearfully in response to Vuxta’s suggestion and Rexar’s offer to try and get the power back on. The Skargoran’s last statement wasn’t helping to calm his nerves. Anyone would have been terrified by the roof caving in, but the Corvonian was especially claustrophobic, so the thought of being buried underneath heavy piles of rubble was horrifying to him.

His feathers puffed out even more than they already were, which would have been adorable if he wasn’t clearly so distressed. Not liking being left alone with the frightening possibilities that were flitting about in his head, Plagarius spoke up again, both to get away from his own thoughts and break the silence that filled the ship’s dark interior. “I-I’m afraid I won’t be much help in getting the systems back online,” he admitted nervously. “I can’t see a thing in the dark, and even if I could, I’m most certainly not an engineer.” He tried to trill a bit, but it came out forced so that it hardly resembled a trill at all.


Elim was grateful when the others quieted down, as it made the pounding in his head less agonizing. Though he also found that, as silence enveloped the darkness, he wished they actually would start talking again. In the darkness and quietness of the ship’s interior, he hardly felt a difference between being conscious and unconscious. There was nothing to focus on, nothing to really confirm that this was truly the waking world and not the depths of his own mind. It was a strange thing, and should anyone have asked him about it, he wouldn’t have been able to explain his thought process on such a matter. But then, he’d just regained consciousness not minutes before, and he’d also hit his head hard on something, so his perception of reality was definitely fuzzy.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, but the action only made his temple shriek in protest. The agent blinked a few times, before resigning to pulling his legs up and settling his head between his knees. This was something that would hopefully help clear his head, and was something he probably should have done earlier, but he hadn’t had the mind to do so. At least he’d done so now, and the action of lowering his head was increasing the blood flow to his brain, which was making him feel remarkably better, though still definitely far from perfect.

Being in this position and so focused on clearing his head, he was startled when someone spoke directly in front of him. His head snapped up – which was a big mistake, as the action brought a torrent of pain with it – his eyes immediately settling on the dark figure in front of him. Her question finally registered to him, and he replied quietly, “Inst cohabre nelgaear.” Elim was so out of it that he didn’t really even realize the words he’d spoken would be incomprehensible to his comrade.

Vuxta tentatively wrapped her tail around Plagarius while she shushed him, trying to get him to relax. While she had been rattled by the crash herself, she had calmed down some, and having someone cling to her for comfort brought out a more motherly side to her. It gave her something to focus on, and she felt a need to soothe the Corvonian, even if the situation itself still wasn't very good. "Just stay close to me, okay? I have excellent night vision, so I can safely guide you out of here." She said softly. While still allowing him to hold her hand, and keeping her tail around him, she hopped off the chair. "Come on, let's find a way out of here, alright?" She took a step forward, trying to get him to follow.



At Elim's foreign words, Syndral blinked. Well, this was just great. She didn't speak Targibbon. She figured he must be using a translator, which clearly wasn't working now. Hopefully, they could find a way to communicate, if he didn't know a common language. She sure couldn't rely on her computer to translate. "Unfortunately, I do not understand your native tongue." She sighed.

When the dizziness had finally subsided enough for him retain his balance, Morph moved away from his support and carefully stepped around the room. His vision was sharpening as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he could make out the details of objects around him better. He was looking for something that could be useful; most of what was on the ground was technology that he assumed to be unusable, due to the circumstances. From what it looked like, a highly powered electric pulse must have blasted all the fuses in the ship. At least, that's what he assumed.
"Yeah, try that," he replied, remembering Gohrlon's suggestion. "I'll be looking for glow sticks or something. Syndral, does he need bandages? It smells like he's bleeding."

Rexar didn't know how else to help and he figured that Vuxta had Plagarius under control for the time being. All that really mattered was getting the power back on. He knew the doors wouldn't be able to open due to the auto-lock sequence that occurs whenever a ship is in danger, and since the impact happened so quickly it was almost certain that the doors would be locked shut until the power was back on.

Rexar crawled around the floor on his arms and legs until he made his way to the power unit. Rexar didn't know a lot about how it worked but he was taught in basic training how to get power flowing through the ship if there were ever an emergency, and Rexar was excellent at retaining information, he had a near perfect eidetic and photography memory. After a bit of fiddling, the lights showed no sign or working, in fact all the power was offline

In that moment Elim was very much glad for the darkness, for a confused expression managed to slip past the mask of neutrality he constantly wore. Forcing his features to return to their usual arrangement, Syndral’s words finally registered to him, and he understood what she had meant. He was grateful for the darkness once again, for a slightly irritated expression colored his features at his translator’s failure to function properly. Shaking his head – gently, so as not to disturb his pounding head, yet enough to hopefully shake the emotions out of his face – the Targibbon rubbed his temple gently. Perhaps the impact had somehow damaged the device lodged in his brain. There was also the possibility that his first response had been only a temporary malfunction.

Trying again, he told her, “Inst cohabre nelgaear, inst tahke revietaob ergt joarnou foartua.” At the invasion of his native language yet again, Elim had to keep himself from frowning. This wasn’t good.


The shushing noises Vuxta was providing, as well as the tail she wrapped around him reassuringly, was very comforting. Anyone else’s pride might have been injured slightly at being hushed like a frightened child, but Plagarius didn’t mind in the least. In fact, he was very grateful for the Sagabi’s efforts at calming him down. He offered her a single coo in response, though it was very quiet and lacked its usual enthusiasm.

At her words of encouragement, he offered her a nod, supposing that, with her ability to see very well in the dark, she would be able to see the gesture. “Y-Yes,” he stuttered once. “Yes, that’s do that,” he spoke again, this time more confidently than before. The Corvonian followed his companion to the best of his ability, for he was perfectly blind in the pitch black of the ship’s interior. He could only hope that Rexar could get the power of the ship back on.

Unfortunately for all of them, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. The Skargoran’s attempts were met with failure, even though the ship’s systems appeared to be undamaged.

((Sorry for changing the outcome of Rexar’s attempts, Lunarz, but none of the aliens’ technology works on this planet, as they will slowly come to realize. :3))

//sorry, didn't know, I'll change it when I get home//

"Bleeding?" Syndral asked quietly, frowning. "Unfortunately, I can not tell. I have no night vision, and he is speaking in his native language." She called out to Morph. Being in the dark without any technology was really unsettling. She felt pretty much helpless since she couldn't do anything. Sighing, she adressed Elim. "My apologies. I can do nothing for you at the moment." She spoke softly.



Vuxta kept her tail wrapped around Plagarius and stayed right by his side. She gave a soft smile when some hint of his confidence returned. "Alright, let's find ourselves an exit then." She spoke gently. Even while she surveyed the area and began to guide him, she moved slow so as not to alarm him, and stayed close to him. She allowed him to hold her hand for as long as he wanted. She even quietly hummed a soothing melody whenever she wasn't talking. The Sagabi just wanted to make sure that he was as relaxed as he could be, and didn't feel alone in the dark. She steadily made her way over to the door while keeping him close, hoping the door at least was still functional. If not, they'd have to find another way out.

"Maybe he has a translator, and it's dead like everything else seems to be in this place," Morph replied, couching down and trying to activate a flashlight-like device to no avail. He tossed it aside, frustrated. "That's just fantastic," he muttered, standing up and moving to a different area in the room.
After a few minutes of shuffling around in the scattered supplies, he found some articles of use "I found a first aid kit. And... hold on... I think these are glow sticks," a sharp snapping sound echoed off the walls, and a faint white light emanated from across the room, "yeah, they are, OK." Quickly, he approached Syndral to pass on his items.

//This is a really short post, just cuz ive had so much going on. I just got a new puppy, and she's already having to stay over night at the vet because she has a virus called Parvo. I did just get a call saying she's looking bright and her nausea is gone so that's good//

Rexar made his way out of the room, a disappointed look on his face, of course Plagarius wouldn't be able to see it, and even if he could see he'd probably be way too afraid to really even notice, considering his mind was on getting out of what was at this moment in time, a metal death trap. However he did know that Plagarius' people were very observant, if they noticed that something was a bit off, be it mental, physical, or emotional they would do anything in their power to help, and that was both a strength and a weakness in Rexar's mind. Rexar was very glad they sent Plagarius, he was a doctor and in this moment a doctor was what they needed.

"I can try to pry open the doors with my hands if it doesn't budge. I'm not very strong but then again I usually only use one set of arms."

Rexar never knew what to say or what not to say, especially in stressful situations. He just hoped they'd get out soon.

----

Gohrlon sat in silence after no one responding to his suggested solution, he didn't really mind but at the same time it annoyed him. He was, however, far too laid back and indifferent to even try to start up a fight about it or bring up that it bothered him, or even make the suggestion again. "So while we're all sitting around how long do you think before this thing explodes? Could be pretty dangerous, who wants to take bets on who'll survive?"

At Syndral’s words, Elim blinked once in understanding. It was apparent that he could understand the language his comrades were speaking; he simply could not speak their dialect himself. Sighing, the agent turned his head to look in Morph’s direction, blinking in affirmation at what the Kwuerk had surmised his problems in communication were. The nonfunctioning of his translator was definitely a problem, though the agent was more concerned about the status of their ship.

His memory was slowly returning, so he could now remember that they had been pursuing a Brotherhood ship. Something had happened once they’d reached Lama Yaqaan’s atmosphere, however, resulting in their loss of technological capabilities and subsequent crash. This turn of events was extremely disconcerting to the Targibbon. Had the Brotherhood ship managed to do this as some sort of counter-attack? If so, they possessed a technology that was completely unheard of to the Order, and the thought of his agency not knowing about something was downright disturbing. The Order had its eyes and ears everywhere, so the thought of them being completely oblivious to something as powerful as this was incredibly unnerving. Still, Elim wasn’t one to jump to conclusions. He had no idea what had caused the deactivation of all their ship’s systems, or if the Brotherhood ship was somehow involved, but he did know that the enemy ship was still out there somewhere, which meant he and his comrades could very well be in danger.

He squinted a bit as Morph lit up some glow sticks. Their light was hardly bright at all, but his eyes had grown accustomed to the pitch blackness, and so it took a few moments for his eyes to readjust to this new light source. As he scanned his surroundings again, trying to get a better look in the better light, he heard Gohrlon’s rather unhelpful comment off in the darkness somewhere. The agent sighed in response and, forgetting that his words would be indistinguishable to his comrade, he said, “Atahbe cohabre iisinjt. Ohrm uush mej lwyan ogjra etua.”


At Vuxta’s gentle suggestion, the doctor replied, “Yes, please, let us do so! I am rather anxious to get out of here – I am not sure if you have noticed. Oh, of course you have noticed! What was I thinking? Oh, I suppose I am not thinking very much at all. I tend not to when I am frightened, you see. It is most unfortunate. Though I know there is really nothing to be afraid of – the darkness cannot hurt me, and there is enough space to breathe.” He paused for a moment, trembling at his own words. “But… fear does tend to override rational thought, does it not? Nyctophobia, claustrophobia…. They would not be phobias at all if they were rational, now would they?”

Plagarius was going on and on again, as he tended to do when he was afraid. He really couldn’t stop himself, nor could he stop himself from being afraid. The two aforementioned fears – nyctophobia and claustrophobia – were two prevalent phobias among Corvonians. They were terrified of the dark. When their species was still young and developing, their nights were completely pitch black, as their planet had no moons to light the sky. This complete inability to see made them terrified of the darkness, for darkness obscures the vision and gives one the illusion of being alone, and a Corvonian’s worst fear is being left alone. So as their society and technology developed, they made a point of lighting up their homes during the night to chase the darkness away.

They were also terrified of confined spaces. The feeling of being trapped is an awful one, especially for a bird-like species who loves their freedom. For a Corvonian, however, being trapped in a small space goes farther than simply the feeling of an inability to escape. Like the darkness, being trapped in a certain area for an extended period of time gives an illusion of the outside world being seemingly gone. The surroundings they are separated from – and more importantly, their friends, their families – seem so far away, like they may never been seen again. In essence, both their fear of the dark and their fear of confined spaces ultimately fuel their most dreadful fear of being left alone. If Plagarius had been alone in this dark and confined space right now, he may very well have lost his ability to function at all entirely.

As it was, the doctor was not alone, and holding Vuxta’s hand in his own and listening to her humming was doing a lot to help him keep calm – or at least, calmer than he would have been otherwise. He wasn’t sure if his Sagabi companion knew it, but she was doing absolutely everything right – maintaining physical contact with him, consistently talking or making some sort of sound to let him know she was there. Everything she was doing was what one should do when dealing with a Corvonian in this sort of situation. Plagarius was almost inclined to ask her if she was a doctor herself, but at the moment, he was busying himself with going along with her humming with his own birdsong. He wasn’t familiar with the melody, so he’d had to listen to it for a while before he could join in, and even now his birdsong was hesitant and uncertain, but it was something for him to focus on, and that was crucial.

When Rexar spoke up, the Corvonian halted in his birdsong, and said imploringly, “Oh yes, please do! I can help! Or, more accurately, I could try. I am a doctor, and as such, I am not really built for physical labor. Still, I am certain that I could not possibly hinder your attempts, and at the very least, I would like to think that I could prove helpful in some small way.” Plagarius paused in his rambling for a moment, as if he was thinking of something, then extended his free hand into the darkness, begging, “Please do come here, good sir. Forgive me for my foolishness; I know you are there and I know that you will not suddenly vanish, but this is a weakness of mine that I cannot overcome on my own.” Since he was holding Vuxta’s hand at that moment, he knew that she was right there next to him, but Rexar was still out there in the darkness, so the doctor was terrified that he might suddenly disappear. It was an irrational fear, and Plagarius acknowledged that, but he was still afraid, nonetheless.

((OOC: I’m sorry that I didn’t post here for a couple of days. I’ve been feeling kind of sick lately, so this will be my last post for tonight and possibly for another day or two. Oh, and how’s your puppy doing, Lunarz?))

Syndral just quietly stayed by Elim until Morph gave her some supplies. There was really nothing she could do in the dark. She couldn't see in the slightest, and nothing seemed to be working anyway. At the sharp snapping sound, she turned her head to find the source. The faint white light shone through the darkness, and a slight sense of relief washed over her. At least now she could finally see a little bit. She focused on the light source until she held a glow stick in the palm of her hand.

Taking the glow sicks and first aid kit from Morph, she gave him a slight nod. "This is much appreciated." Despite what she thought of the Kwuerk, she did mean that.

She set the first aid kit down and hovered a single glow stick over Elim. Not knowing what his condition was or where to look, she maneuvered the glow stick over his body until she got to his head. She did her best to try to not shine the light directly in his eyes, but she did need to check for injuries. When she saw the clear liquid, she realized that Morph had been right, Elim was in fact bleeding.

"You will have to excuse ill manners in physical contact on my part, but I must tend to your wound." She wasn't sure if the Targibbon was sensitive about physical contact like her kind were or not, but she figured she should be respectful all the same. Normally, she would refrain from touching others, or await approval, but now was not the time for that.

The Zvarranik placed the glow stick in her mouth, holding onto it firmly so she wouldn't lose it. She opened up the first aid kit and began rummaging through it for supplies. She got out some rags and disinfectant. The wound needed to be cleaned first, plus she needed to clean up the blood as well. Hopefully, all he would need after that is a bandage. She wasn't sure how bad the wound was exactly, but hopefully it wasn't too bad. She knew some basic first aid, but she was by far no doctor. She had knowledge and experience in biology, having dissected a number of creatures in the past, but that was different than tending to injuries. Still, she was likely the closest thing to a doctor out of this group.

While tending to Elim, Syndral's sole focus was on him. She wanted to make sure she patched up his wound as best she could. She wasn't paying any attention to Morph or Gohrlon at the moment. She wasn't even thinking about her equipment or the status of the ship. Although she had already figured that no technology would be working now.



"Hmm mm." Vuxta gave a nod. "Yes, I noticed. I had a feeling that was the case. It's true that fear is irrational, or at least it often is, especially in the cases of phobias. But there's nothing here that can hurt you. It's alright, you're not alone. I'm right here beside you. Just focus on my voice." She spoke as gently as she could in the hopes of soothing him. As soon as she finished speaking, she began humming again.

She changed her tune slightly, keeping it simple and repetitive, but still soothing. She noticed the hesitance in his birdsong and wanted to make her tune easier for him to follow, so she kept a certain pattern now. She was actually pleased to have someone sing with her, since not everyone was willing to join in.

In truth, it was a lucky coincidence that she had done everything right. Vuxta wasn't sure what would work for the Corvonian, honestly, but she tried what had worked for her in the past. She was actually the oldest of five children, and thus had accepted responsibility of helping to raise them. This is where her nurturing instinct started. With her parents sometimes busy with work, her younger siblings clung to her for comfort.

Since Sagabi are all born blind and remain so for the first couple years of their lives, babies are especially clingy. They fear being left alone in their condition, so they generally insist on constant physical contact, and sometimes even consistent sound. Usually, this consists of the child either clinging to a family member like for a piggy back ride, or simply clutching onto their tail.

With multiple children, holding tails is most common, as they will essentially create a line and follow the family member around regardless of what they do or where they go. They will either cry or tug on their tail when they want something. This gives the family member a chance to take care of responsibilities, while also allowing them to watch the children. Since Vuxta had done this with her siblings, she had developed a knack for it. She would even sing to soothe them. So it was natural for her to want to care for Plagarius as well.

Vuxta paused in her song to engage in the conversation. "If the door won't open easily, then it might take all of us to open it. Surely with our combined efforts, we could get it open." She paused as a thought came to her. "Although we could try using leverage to pry it open. We would just need some kind of tool." She suggested. When she finished talking, she continued her humming. It seemed to help her companion, so she was going to keep doing so for as long as she needed to.

"Just protocol," he replied when Syndral accepted the supplies. Morph then turned angrily towards the source of Gohrlon's voice. "Weren't you going to open the windows or something? Why don't you do that instead of waiting for the place to explode!" he hissed. "Sheesh..."
He moved to where the doors to the rest of the ship were. They probably weren't going to open any time soon. If someone were to melt through, they have to find a device that generated the necessary heat without electricity. Or maybe something with the strength to bust them open could work. The particular metal used for the ship was designed to resist such trauma, but there had to be something set up in case of an event like this, like a mechanical trigger.


OOC: Ah, sorry, Wylrin. I hope you feel better soon.

As his comrades lapsed into silence again, leaving the interior of the ship dark and quiet, the Targibbon simply focused on his breathing, despite the fact that what he really wanted to do was something of use. Elim didn't like being helpless. It wasn't so much a factor of pride as it was a matter of feeling useless. Logically speaking, he knew he would recover in time, and he'd recover faster if he would take these moments to recuperate from his loss of consciousness, but he still didn't like being idle like this. Much worse was the fact that the others had to dedicate themselves to his recovery instead of what he considered to be more important things, like the ship's functions, the status of the Brotherhood ship, and their own status on this strange new world.

He sighed. Just breathe, Elim, he thought to himself. Isn't that what they taught you for all those years? Just breathe.

His thoughts were interrupted by a source of light uncomfortably close to his face. His first instinct was to close his eyes and turn his head away, but after a moment of thought he realized that Syndral was probably just checking on his head injury. Returning his head to its original position and opening his eye that was opposite of the light source, the Targibbon listened quietly as the Zvarranik explained what she needed to do. He said nothing in response, knowing that anything he said would be gibberish to his comrade's ears, though he watched her carefully with his one open eye. Elim didn't... appreciate... being touched, but he knew that in his case it was necessary. Exhaling deeply in a sort of half sigh, the agent prepared himself to endure something he normally viewed as rather unpleasant. The preparation didn't seem to help any, for he still tensed when the rag coated with disinfectant first grazed his skin, both because he wasn't particularly fond of the touch and the disinfectant burned the wound on his temple slightly. Still, he was resolved not to flinch away, and instead simply let the mechanic-turned-medic do her work. He eventually closed his other eye in reluctant acceptance. It was mostly so he wouldn't have to look into the light of the glowstick, but also because he didn't feel a reason to watch Syndral's movements. It wasn't as if he didn't trust her, he reasoned, so he simply let her work while he himself kept quiet.


At Vuxta's words, Plagarius seemed to think for a moment, for there was actually a moment of silence that wasn't filled with his nervous chatter. He eventually did break the silence though, saying, "Alright... alright." He took a deep breath, then continued, fumbling a bit here and there, "Yes, yes, you're right. I'm sorr- I apologize. I just get this way when... well, you know. Small, dark space. It gets to me! Always does, always has, really. Oh, but I'm talking too much! I know I am, and I'm sorry. I really just can't help myself! I get a little spooked and there I go! Yap, yap, yap! I'm doing it right now! I know I am, I just said-" He took a breath, then, determinedly, he said, "You know what? Enough of my talking! I really should stop it. I really should! But there I go again! Oh!" He waved his hands around emphatically, both a bit irritated and a bit amused by his own continuous rambling. Finally, he said firmly, "Let us get this door open, shall we? To shut me up!"

Thankfully, Elim's wound didn't require any extensive treatment. That made the Zvarranik feel better, both because he wasn't badly injured, and because she would have less she needed to do. As she wasn't actually a trained doctor, she felt a little uncomfortable filling the role to certain degrees. She didn't have any experience actually saving a life in this manner, and wasn't confident in the possibility of being able to do so.

Any surgical procedure she tended to perform was a simple dissection to study a body in the name of science, with the lifeform, more often than not, already being dead before she even begins. While Syndral could sedate a specimen and keep them alive in order to see the organs perform their duties in action, it was still a controlled scenario where their life was not in danger. She was never trained or expected to save a life by any medical means. if a specimen did happen to die, it was hardly a lost cause, and didn't stop any further research from taking place.

Even still, biology was merely a secondary profession, more of a hobby of sorts. She did have an interest in fauna and liked studying them, but more often than not, she simply liked using this research to make life-like robots for various purposes. After all, Syndral considered herself an engineer above all else, even being a spy. It was one thing she had always wanted to do ever since she was a hatchling. Everything else was hardly anything more than a hobby, or a simple necessary aspect of the job.

Once Syndral had finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, she took the glowstick out of her mouth and moved it away from Elim's face. "Is that better?" She asked, in regards to his wound. While first aid was simple enough, she partly wanted some form of confirmation that she had appropriately helped him. Remembering that the Targibbon needed to stay properly hydrated, she checked the first aid kit for any sort of drinking water. Logically, there should be some here with a Targibbon on board. She found a bottle and offered it to him. She wasn't sure how badly he may need it now, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to at least provide it.

The Zvarranik overheard Morph calling out to anyone who may be outside. She wasn't sure how effective that would be, or if they would get a desirable response, but they did need to find a way out. However, that would be difficult with all technology being nonfunctional. While she had yet to check the ship to confirm this, she speculated that there was likely an interference. Even with the crash, the odds were slim that literally every machine, even their own personal gear, would be completely defective.

~ ~ ~

At Plagarius's apparently uncontrollable rambling, Vuxta tried her hardest to stifle a laugh. However, she failed to restrain it completely, letting a giggle escape. She felt a little bad about that, as he was legitimately scared it seemed, and she considered it rude to find amusement in his antics now. However, his continuous rambling was adorably charming to her. She knew Sagabi back home who had similar issues with talking too much, so she found it endearing actually, as it reminded her of home.

Still, now was not the time to reminisce. Taking a breath to calm herself, she tried to wipe the grin off her face. "It's alright, don't worry about it, dear. I'm a good listener, but let's focus on getting this door open." Vuxta approached the door, focusing on the crack where it would open up. She tried to see if she could grip it enough to pull it open, although that was easier said than done.

Morph pressed the side of his head against the doors and lightly knocked them. It didn't sound completely solid, but it was impossible to tell what kind of mechanism was on the inside, if it had one. He was no engineer. But, there was one... No, there had to be some method of opening them that he could find out himself.
Frustrated, he left and approached Elim and Syndral. "How is he?"

Though his eyes were closed, Elim could tell that the light had moved away from his face when Syndral had no further need for the glowstick in such a close proximity to him. Cautiously opening his eyes, he blinked an affirmative in response to his comrade's question. What had once been a sharp pain in the side of his head had receded to a dull pounding. He obviously wasn't perfectly well, but he was feeling much better than before. Not only was the pain gradually fading away, but he was starting to regain a more keen sense of awareness, as well. He's felt a bit woozy and light-headed ever since he regained consciousness, and while he certainly wasn't in any condition to jump up and run laps around the ship's interior, his head was becoming clearer and clearer, something the agent was immensely grateful for.

He was just gathering the strength and the focus to try and stand - perhaps foolishly - when Syndral offered him a bottle of water. It was such a simple thing, but it meant more to Elim than most people would probably understand. He, as a Targibbon, needed water to survive. The same could be said for many living creatures, but the amphibian-like alien relied even more so on water. Even his ability to breathe depended on it. Without sufficient quanities of water, the agent could very easily die, and even more easily become hindered by his dehydration, thus making him ineffectual in his duties.

But it wasn't just a simple matter of need. This instance was also about acknowledgement. Syndral and Elim had a mutual understanding of each other. The Zvarranik was easily subdued by the cold, just as the Targibbon was easily defeated by a lack of moisture. They each knew the other's weakness, and they each did their best in order to protect one another from the unique dangers they each faced. Elim would do anything in his power to keep his reptilian comrade warm, while Syndral would do anything in her power to make sure he's properly hydrated, as she is now.

The Order agent regarded his comrade for a moment, before he closed his eyes and nodded his thanks. Elim really didn't like expressing any sort of appreciation - or any other emotion, for that matter - but this was different from most scenarios. The Targibbon usually didn't express any sort of approval or admiration towards other agents who performed their duties well, as he was typically the sort who felt no need to comment if something is done properly. This, however, was different. This wasn't really about duty, it was simply an interaction between two people who realize they need help, and know that they can help one another. While it obviously benefitted the mission if all of the agents were well enough to perform optimally, it wasn't technically an absolute obligation for all of the agents to be so considerate of each other, either. This was more of a personal decision between the two of them, a committment to each other should one fall victim to their unfortunate weakness.

Elim was brought out of his thoughts by Morph, who had apparently decided to stop banging on the door for the moment. He considered replying, but figured it would be pointless if neither of them could understand a word he said. So instead, he simply stayed quiet, allowing Syndral to speak for the two of them.


At Vuxta's giggling, the doctor found himself inclined to do so as well. He trilled in amusement, mostly out of his own inability to keep himself from constantly babbling, but also because with his companion's quiet laughter, it was so very hard for him not to do the same. Many species tended to respond to others' feelings by adopting those feelings as their own. Laughing when another person laughed and crying when another person cried were just a couple of examples. This was a common trait among many species, but it was a very prominent characteristic in Corvonians, especially. The bird-like creatures are very affected by the people around them in many ways, this being one of them.

As the Sagabi began to speak, Plagarius forced himself to calm down from his own fit of twittering in order to listen to her more properly. When she was finished speaking, he nodded, still in good spirits from their shared laughter, but serious enough now - with his fears set aside - to focus on the problem. "Thank you, my dear. And yes, you're quite right. Let us get out of this place!" With that, he also made his way to the door, more slowly, however, for he was blind in the dark.

"Ow," he said, more out of surprise than actual discomfort as he walked into the door, effectively bumping his beak into the solid surface. He didn't seem bothered, however. In fact, he actually trilled softly for a moment in amusement at his own mishap before blindly searching for the edge of the door. He tried to firmly grasp it with his hands, but it wasn't working out too well. "I'm not sure how much help I'll be," the doctor echoed his earlier words. "I'm not very strong, even when I can properly get a grip on what I'm trying to work with."

Syndral noticed Elim blink in response to her question. "He will be fine." She stated to Morph. While it had been a little odd to her at first, she had learned by now that the Targibbon often blinked out of acknowledgement, understanding, or affirmation. Receiving a simple blink as a response wasn't new to her, but rather the meaning behind it. Unlike Elim, Zvarraniks often blinked out of confusion or surprise. It was common for them to give a simple blink when they were uncertain of what to say and wanted something to be explained. Elim's nearly opposite meaning behind his blinks threw her off at first, but she had gotten used to them by now.

The Zvarranik nodded in return when he thanked her for the water. She couldn't have her comrade drying out on her and possibly dying. Not only would it be a hindrance to their mission, but Syndral cared enough about him to not want him to die. He was a fellow agent at the very least, one of her only allies on a potentially dangerous planet. Without her technology, she was more vulnerable, and because of that, she was grateful that she wasn't stranded here alone.



Vuxta was relieved to see that not only was Plagarius not at all bothered by her laughter, but he actually joined in. At least she had managed to not offend him on accident. Although she was starting to get the impression that offending the Corvonian would be no easy feat. Still, it was nice to see that she had unintentionally helped him further. The Sagabi decided to keep that in mind for future reference, in case she ever needed to cheer up her companion again. "You're welcome." She smiled, even though he wouldn't see it in the dark.

She was about to say something about being careful not to run into the door, when she realized she was too late. She let out a slight snicker, although she tried to restrain it. Even though he didn't seem bothered by it, and instead trilled at his mishap, Vuxta still felt a little bad for repeatedly laughing at her friend, and also not warning him about the door in time. "Sorry, I should have guided you safely, instead of letting you run into the door. I don't mean to keep laughing either, it's just that you amuse me." She let another giggle escape.

"But let's get this door open before we get any more distracted." The Sagabi stated, forcing herself to settle down and be serious about the task at hand. "Don't worry about strength, I don't even know if we can get the door open this way as it is. I just figure it's worth a try before moving on to other methods. Alright, now, on three. One, two, three!" With that, Vuxta began pulling on the door with all her might. Hopefully it would budge.

"Alright," Morph gave a short sigh of relief. "So nobody's too badly injured. Or dead. Not yet, anyways," he added under his breath. He groaned in annoyance and turned back to the door. "We need to get out of here."

The Kwuerk walked back and tried to get his fingers in the crack of the doors. The tips of his fingers were similar to that of the end of an elephant's trunk; they had tiny, powerful muscles that could curl and grasp firmly to objects. Once he had a good grip, he attempted to muscle the door open, hoping that it would at least give by some amount.

Steadily overcoming the effects of his injury and subsequent loss of consciousness - courtesy of both time to recover and Syndral's administrations - Elim was feeling much better by now. This, coupled with the urgency that they get out of this place, as Morph had observed, drove the Targibbon to try again in getting to his feet. His last attempt had been unsuccessful, though said attempt had been tried perhaps too prematurely. Feeling more confident in his current state now, he brought himself, if a bit shakily, to stand. The moment he was completely on his feet, his limited vision in the blackness of the ship's interior darkened, and he felt as though he might collapse again. The sensation was brief, however, though he did lean heavily on the wall behind him just in case. He still felt woozy, and he wasn't sure he'd be much help in getting that door open, but he was resolved to do what he could, all the same. The agent glanced at Syndral, who he could just barely make out in the darkness, before slowly, and a bit unsteadily, making his way towards the direction he had last heard Morph's voice.

They were getting out of here.


The Corvonian simply trilled in response to his companion's snicker, telling her amusedly, "Oh, you needn't worry - on either account. I really should have known better than to run into the door. And I don't mind your laughing in the slightest. Indeed, I am tempted to belief it may be the only thing keeping me sane right now." And while it was said in a humorous manner, it was probably entirely true. Their laughter was giving Plagarius something to distract himself with, to keep the darkness and the enclosure of their confined space from getting to him too much. So while it might have seemed rude or hurtful to anyone else to be laughed at in a situation like this, the bird-like alien was quite content with it, and was even thriving on it right now. He needed to be able to think clearly and be unhindered by any sort of panicked fright if they were ever going to get out of here, and Vuxta's merriment was doing wonders to accomplish just that.

Still, he knew that while it was good that he wasn't huddled in a corner slowly losing his mind to his fears, he had to maintain some degree of focus here, as well. So as the Sagabi regained a sense of more serious composure, the Corvonian did the same, for he was just as determined as she was to get out of this place that had become their prison, if not more so. As Vuxta counted to three, the Corvonian pulled on the door as hard as he could, which, admittedly, wasn't all that impressive. He was trying very hard, though, and his grip on the door wasn't all that great, so he ended up losing his grip on the door and falling backwards flat on the floor.

"Ow," he echoed, only this time, it was more out of discomfort than amusement. He wasn't terribly deterred, however. Instead, he seemed to be all the more determined to get that bloody door open. "I don't like having to do this," he warned, his words more directed at the door than Vuxta. "But I see no other alternative." With that, he neatly shed his gloves - which indicated he meant business - folding them tidily and storing them in his pocket. With his talons free, he could more easily get a grip on the door, which he once again pulled at with all his might.

The door cracked open just a hair.

OOC: This was getting uncomfortably close to where the older topics are getting close, eheheh...


Morph's attempt failed. With a sharp hiss, he retracted from the doors before his fingers could pass the threshold of injury, shaking the stinging sensation out of his hands. Since it was sealed shut, there was no way he could use the strength of his arms to pry it open, and his fingers had about had it at that point.

He hissed again, this time in frustration, but calmed slightly when he heard Elim start to approach. His steps lacked the light "clink" that Syndral's clawed feet had, yet it was still bipedal, so by process of elimination it had to have been him. Once he got close enough Morph could confirm it. He was able to relax a little at the fact that his wounded comrade was at least capable of walking, if only at a slow and steady pace.

"I can't open the door myself, it's sealed tight. Maybe we could find a crowbar or something and pry it open that way." Not expecting an answer, since Elim was currently unable to give a coherent one, he took it upon himself to look for such a tool, trying to make out the silhouettes around him. Morph had night vision, but this wasn't night. This was pitch dark, nigh complete blackness. While his ability to perceive things were undoubtedly better than most of the other agents, it was far from good enough for his comfort. The light from the glowsticks at least made it somewhat easier to--

"Damn it, they're all with Syndral! Why didn't I get another one before I left! God, forget it, I'm not dealing with that..."

Reluctant to make her aware of his lack of foresight, he continued his search as-is, shifting to his knees while feeling out different objects.

OOC: man, I'd really like to play this as a third party character...

OOC: You're a skilled, experienced RPer (plus a Hunter), so I think Wylrin would give you an invitation. Whenever she comes back, that is. She's on and off, sometimes.

Vuxta was relieved to know that Plagarius didn't mind her laughter. In her mind, this was neither the time or place for it, and it just seemed overall rude to laugh at someone's misfortune. However, that wasn't the case at all with her Corvonian companion. In fact, he seemed to be thriving on it. It was keeping him relaxed, which was important right now. There was a twinge of worry that it was apparently the only thing keeping him sane, but at least the laughter was serving a purpose.

When Plagarius fell backwards, the Sagabi let go of the door and turned to him. She was about to ask if he was okay and help him up, when he got up on his own. Vuxta paused as she listened to him and watched him take off his gloves. If she didn't know any better, she might have thought he intended on fighting the door. However, that clearly wasn't the case. When he was ready, she followed suit, and helped him with the door.

A skinny beam of light shone through the darkness. "Plagarius, look! We opened the door a crack, we just need to open it the rest of the way! Come on, we can do it!"



Holding the glowstick up, Syndral could see glimpses of her surroundings. She peered through the darkness, watching as Elim slowly rose to his feet. When he appeared about ready to collapse, she tensed up slightly. She might have offered support, if she wasn't sure of what the answer to that would be. She relaxed slightly when he started to move, and she decided to walk alongside him. Syndral gave him space, knowing he would want it, but she held the glowstick close to guide him if he needed it. She wanted to make sure he made it to the door safely, but she was going to refrain from getting too close to him.

The Zvarranik heard Morph's voice coming from somewhere in the darkness. Her best hint at a location being her horns' ability to sense heat signatures. He mentioned something about prying the door open. "Ah, yes, leverage. That should work." A promising idea that was sure to work much better than trying to muscle the door open, especially with Syndral herself not having much strength to speak of, and Elim still being a bit woozy. A tool would be more reliable.

Syndral could sense that Morph's heat signature was closer to the floor now as he searched. She couldn't tell in this darkness that he might be having some difficulty seeing. She didn't even have a clear idea of what he was doing, aside from him saying anything, just an idea of where he was. So she wasn't aware he might need a glowstick, as she wasn't even sure of the limitations to his night vision. She figured if he needed light, he would have already gotten a glowstick, or simply ask for one. So logically, he must be fine in the dark.

As he made his way over to where Morph and the door to their escape were, Elim silently appreciated Syndral's presence alongside him. Her assistance was subtle and unobtrusive, something he was grateful for. He wasn't sure if anyone other than the Zvarranik next to him could truly understand and respect his need to distance himself from others, for the reptilian alien also shared that very same need. It was fortunate for him to have a comrade that thought and functioned in such a similar manner as he did. This was no doubt why they had been sent on this mission together, as they complemented each other's abilities quite well and also worked well together. It was especially fortunate that they could watch each other's backs on a mission such as this - one that went horribly wrong the very moment they entered orbit.

Elim didn't pretend to fully understand what had gone wrong, but he wasn't about to sit down and ponder it while they were crashed on a completely unfamiliar planet with none of their technology working. They needed to get outside and assess the situation from there.

Morph's suggestion of using a crowbar of sorts sounded promising, or at least, it sounded like their best shot at getting the door open, anyway. If this didn't work, the Targibbon wasn't sure what else they could possibly manage with their limited equipment and visibility, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on such a thought. Focus on finding something to pry open the door first, worry later.

A thought occurred to him. Elim didn't pretend to know the interior of this particular ship by heart, but surely there was some sort of tool stored somewhere in case of an emergency like this? Reaching out half-blindly, half-guided by the light of Syndral's glowstick, he started to feel along the wall for some sort of panel or compartment that contained the instrument they needed.


Vuxta's exclamation was quickly followed by a strange bird noise of elation from the Corvonian. "Yes! Nearly there! We'll get out of here yet!" he declared, feeling as confident as he's felt since crash landing on this planet. Releasing his grip on the door for a moment to flex his fingers, he quickly returned them to their original position where light was shining through the crack in the door. Looking to his companion - and realizing thusly that he could actually see her face now in the dim light that peeked through! - his eyes dilated in his version of a grin as he said, "Again then, on the count of three! One, two, three!" With that, he heaved with all his might and, with their combined efforts, the door slowly began to budge open. Inch by inch, or what felt like millimeter by millimeter, no doubt, more light spilled into the interior of the ship until it was wide enough that they could slip through.


((OOC: It's been a while, so I'd like to ask so that I know for sure: Syndral and Elim have met prior to this mission, and Syndral and Morph have met prior to this mission, but this is the first time Elim and Morph have worked together, right? I just want to make sure I'm remembering correctly. :3))

In his search, Morph encountered few items of interest, none being of any use for their current task. After tossing aside several useless objects, he found an assortment of three boxes: a second medical kit, and two crates he couldn't read the labels of well. He sighed in irritation. Now he'd have to get Syndral's help, but there was no way he was going to let her know that. He secured the boxes in his arms and moved closer to her, stopping once the light from the glowstick she was holding was strong enough for his needs, hoping she wouldn't catch on. He read the labels.

The second box, black and rectangular, read "Handheld Short-Ranged Weaponry, Class X-16". He recognized the classification. It was an assortment of daggers and knives specifically designed for battle. If the lack of functional technology continued, it would serve useful.

The third box, a heavy metal crate, read "Nutritional Wafers, Class C-1689". It was a ration of small, dehydrated biscuits, which contained a flour base consisting of various nutrients and vitamins. The makeup of this particular classification was for a specific type of body chemistry. Individuals of a species that fit in the "C" class could eat anything from said class, but they're each given a specific number for the item that's best suited for them. "C" is a more general class, including a greater number of species. Morph's class was "F", which was for more alkaline body chemistries. This ration was useless to him, but hopefully could serve at least someone well.

"I didn't find anything for the door, but I got some things for the road," he finally announced, turning around to where both agents were in front of him. "Another first-aid kit, some weapons and rations. Is anyone here class C?"


OOC: This is technically their first mission together, but Morph and Syndral have met right before this mission in a one-on-one meeting, so they've already made first impressions on each other. Elim and Morph have never met until now. Well, they only acknowledged each others existence so far, they have yet to properly introduce themselves. Uh, now I'm getting too technical.
Okay, Syndral and Morph have met, but Elim and Morph haven't.
Also I hope you don't mind my makeshift exposition. We can change anything we need to as we go along.

Vuxta relaxed her grip and gave her fingers a moment to rest as the Corvonian did. Due to her kind living in the treetops back home, she had a strong grip and was used to holding onto trees while climbing about. For this reason, her fingers didn't really need a break, but it was still a good idea to rest a moment anyway. The Sagabi grabbed hold of the door once more when Plagarius was ready to continue. She gave a quiet nod to him as he began to count, and on three, she gave it all the strength she had. Bit by bit, Vuxta could feel the door slowly opening. Finally, the door was open just wide enough for them to get out.

Vuxta took a step back, closing her eyes tightly, and shielding her face from the light. While being able to exit the ship was definitely a good thing, the blinding light was an unwelcome presence to the nocturnal Sagabi. Such a shocking contrast from the pitch black darkness of the ship to the brightly lit outdoors nearly made her want to recoil back into the security and comfort of the darkness. With her arm still up to block the light from shining directly into her sensitive eyes, Vuxta slowly blinked her eyes open, only to quickly shut them again. The light was so intrusive to her. If only it didn't have to be so bright.

"Uh, you go ahead. I'll be right behind you." She stated quietly. Maybe her tall companion could cast a shadow to help protect her eyes. If not, she may have to keep them closed until they have time to adjust, or until nightfall. If that were to be the case, being able to follow in the footsteps of her companion could be helpful, as he could be her guide of sorts.



Syndral stood by the door with the glowstick in hand. She wasn't sure what to do exactly, or what she could do rather. She felt quite useless, just quietly standing there by the exit. However, complete darkness with no functioning technology was hardly her element. Every possible task she could reasonably see herself working on involved either light, technology, or both. Without them, she felt stuck. Syndral supposed all she could realistically do right now was wait.

When Morph approached, she turned in his direction, even though she could hardly see him. It didn't really occur to her that he might need her light. She couldn't really tell what he was doing exactly from where she was. She figured he was probably just bringing over anything that appeared useful. It was hard to tell without moving closer to him, and Syndral rather avoid bumping into him, so she just decided to wait until he spoke up or something.

"Weapons?" The Zvarranik's attention nearly laser focused on the mention of tools while almost ignoring everything else. She followed the sound of his voice and his heat signature to lead her to the box he supposedly still had. Once Syndral was close enough, she held out the glowstick to read over the labels. "Handheld Short-Ranged Weaponry, Class X-16." Yes, perfect. Daggers, knives, any functional tool was better than none. Without hesitation, she reached for the box to retrieve at least one for herself.

Elim was still running his hands along the wall - looking for a panel, a compartment, something - when Morph's voice caught his attention. Much like Syndral, his interest was immediately piqued at the mention of weapons. He didn't respond to the Kwuerk's inquiry about whether any of them belonged to the food class C, either because he simply couldn't give an intelligible answer or because he was too focused on their new means of self defense. If they were going to be stuck here without their technology for an unknown length of time, it gave him a small sense of comfort knowing that at least they'd be armed. While Elim wasn't nearly as immersed in technology as his reptilian comrade was, and thus didn't have as much to lose as she did, he was still very much aware of how considerably more vulnerable they all were without it. So he was grateful for the collection of small melee weapons Morph had found, to be sure.

Still, the Targibbon was more focused on his initial objective to go digging through the crate. He knew there had to be some sort of pry bar somewhere. It was standard protocol for ships such as this to be equipped for situations similar to this, he knew from having spent years in vessels such as this one. It was just a matter of finding it, which, having long since strayed from the light emitting from Syndral's glowstick, was proving much more of a challenge than it should have been. The fact that he was still recovering from his momentary loss of consciousness wasn't making things any easier.

As he continued on with his search, he banged into something metallic - which may or may not have been Motherbot lying in a heap on the floor - before finally finding what he was looking for. Based on the shallow crevices in the wall, he'd located a panel of some sort. He could only hope it was the one he was actually looking for. Fingertips groping the edge of the panel, he tried removing it, but was having some complications. The gloves he wore were designed to retain moisture, and while they weren't slippery on the outside - instead more rubbery than anything - the material covering his fingertips was making it more difficult to grasp at something like this. He eventually managed to slide it off the wall, and the compartment's contents clattered onto the floor, their positions within the compartment no doubt disrupted by their crash landing. With a small sigh, the Targibbon rummaged around in the pile that had unceremoniously landed at his feet until he found what - based on its curved shape - he had been looking for.

With that, he made his way back to his comrades. Thunking the pry bar on the metallic door twice to get their attention, he waved it a bit in his hand, as if to say, Here it is, now do something with it.


The moment the door was open far enough to suit their purposes, the Corvonian laughed merrily at their success. If it hadn't been for the sudden brightness of the outside light making him pause, he would have squeezed through door the moment he could to get out of that terrible, confining space. Though his eyes weren't nearly as sensitive as Vuxta's - quite the opposite, in fact, for the bird-like creature was reduced to blindness in the pitch black - having had one's eyes adjusted to the darkness only for them to suddenly be assaulted by daylight would make anyone stop to wait for them to adjust. Unlike the Sagabi, however, Plagarius's eyes adjusted fairly quickly, welcoming the light that signalled they were no longer trapped in their metal prison.

Such was his desperation to escape their confines that he did indeed slip through the gap in the door, into the outside environment. He hardly took note of their alien surroundings; he was just so glad to be out in the open once more! Twirling around a few times like a small child playing in the falling snow, he twittered exuberantly, so happy to finally be out of that dreadful confinement. He turned to his companion, to share this moment of freedom with her, when he realized she had not stepped across the threshold. At first, he thought nothing of it, so completely consumed by his exhilaration. He simply strode - nearly frolicked - over to her, chattering excitedly, "Oh! So good it is to be out of there! I daresay I've never before been so happy to see the light of day!"

When he finally came to a stop in front of her, however, his frame filling the partly opened doorway, he realized that something was wrong. Growing quiet almost immediately, it took him a few moments to figure out what the matter was, but when he finally connected the dots, his eyes widened with sudden realization.

"Oh, how thoughtless of me!" he exclaimed. "Surely this light must be blinding to you! Oh, I didn't think... I wasn't thinking!" Glancing over his shoulder, he brought his arms up to grasp the sides of the door and the wall, trying to block out as much light as possible. Returning his gaze to her, he asked, more composed now, "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Morph let Syndral take the weapons crate to salvage its contents. Those particular models, she would come to find, were designed for more nimble, and somewhat smaller hands. The handles were thinner, and the blades were more lightweight. He had never taken the time to notice what Syndral's hands were like-- what situation would have aroused that, he wondered-- and he had barely gotten a good look at Elim before the ship crashed. He knew that the knives would be too tedious for him to use, with his thick, robust hands.

"Ugh, I can't ever get away from that, can I," he thought bitterly, memories of tight spaces and tiny utensils taunting him in the back of his mind. It wouldn't have been an overstatement to say that a Kwuerk of his particular stature was rare. Which only made navigating certain tasks in his home system frustratingly difficult, to his grievance. His departure from those worlds led to him quickly discovering a far more inclusive selection of societies. It was a nice change, but convenience was not something he could count on in an emergency situation such as this one.

A loud clatter rang out a few yards away in the darkness. "Hey, are you okay?" Morph impulsively called out. The clatter continued, only this time in isolated portions. He assumed that Elim had found a collection of something and was rummaging through it.

Going with that assumption, he turned his attention back to Syndral as she searched through the box. "She's an engineer, right? I'm pretty sure some of those knives are dual-purpose. I've seen some people use them to unscrew things and--" Yet another sound from Elim stole away his attention, this time announcing his discovery. He had found the correct tool they were looking for.

"Oh, that was quick," he remarked, setting the other two boxes down and making a beeline for the door. He gave not a moment's hesitation before retrieving the crowbar from Elim's hands. "Thanks, I got this." From what he gathered from both of his comrade's physical features, neither of them seemed equipped for a job that required so much raw muscle. Finally, something that required his use. Lodging the crowbar firmly between the two doors, he pulled it with all of his might.


OOC: The Brotherhood got out before the Order.
Brotherhood: 1
Order: 0

Vuxta quietly stood where she was, continuing to shield her eyes while she listened to the merriment of her companion. Plagarius sounded so full of joy now, so much so that she imagined he was quite the sight to behold, if she was able to actually see him. The Sagabi wished she could join her companion, or at the very least witness him being so merry. However, the light was not a friend to her at the moment. Until her eyes had proper time to adjust, she would likely have to keep them closed, or at least covered.

Yes, yes, the light of day is so very nice, but can it go away now? Vuxta didn't dare speak those words, especially as the Corvonian drew near, for she didn't want to rain on his parade. Still, a part of her did want the sun to go hide somewhere out of view, somewhere it couldn't blind her. It would have to be a bright, sunny day, wouldn't it? It couldn't be cloudy, or rainy, or nighttime. No, the sun had to be out, shining for all the world to see.

The moment of silence puzzled the Sagabi. Up until now, her companion seemed to be quite the social and vocal sort. The Corvonian had hardly gone more than a moment before filling the silence in some way. So it confused Vuxta that he would be quiet now, when he seemed to be brimming with energy just seconds before. Although that silence didn't last long.

"Oh, Plagarius, it's fine. I mean, I understand. You're not nocturnal like I am, so this bright, sunny day must be really nice for you." Vuxta gave a small, more half-hearted smile, which faded quickly. She was trying to make sure he didn't worry so much, but the light really was hurting her eyes. When the light faded, she blinked her eyes open to see that he was blocking the doorway. She smiled softly. It wasn't a permanent solution, but it was a sweet gesture. "My eyes should adjust to the light, they just need more time to do so. But, um, maybe you could help by casting a shadow, so that not as much light is on me."



Syndral brought the weapons crate closer to her. She knelt down into a sitting position in front of it, and put the glowstick in her mouth before rummaging through it. She picked up one of the knives and held it in her hands, just feeling how it fit. The thin, lightweight feel of the knife was well suited for Syndral's long, skinny, bony hands. Yes, this would do nicely. It didn't matter what kind of knives they were specifically, any knife was better than no knife, and these conveniently fit well in her hands. The Zvarranik was tempted to just claim the whole box for herself out of a compulsive need to have tools at her disposal.

When a loud clatter rang out in the distance, a slight jump caused her to drop her knife and lose her grip on the glowstick, both of which fell into the crate. Sudden noises in pitch darkness, especially with no technology for self defense, was not good for a Zvarranik's nerves. Syndral sensed a heat signature over there, and as she took a deep breath, quickly reminded herself that it was just Elim. As she picked up the glowstick, she heard two more clangs, but they didn't sound like accidents. Apparently, Elim had actually found something, which Morph quickly confirmed. Good, that meant they could hopefully get out of here pretty soon.

Elim handed over the crowbar without any hint of protest - not that he could make much protest in the state he was in - for Morph had been correct in his evaluation; the Targibbon was hardly the sort whose physique matched the task of muscling open a door. If the door had been made of much less durable material, he might've been able to kick it down. As it was, 1.) The door was most certainly not made of material that could simply be forced through in such a way. 2.) Kicking down a door wasn't the most ideal solution even when the person who intended to do so was inflicted with a touch of light headedness. 3.) In the darkness of the ship's nonfunctioning interior, he was just as likely to kick down one of his comrades as he was the door. So all in all, it just wasn't a viable option.

So instead of trying to manage the door - which the Kwuerk was probably most equipped out of all of them to handle - Elim situated himself opposite of Syndral, peering inside to take a look at the contents. While the Zvarranik undoubtedly would've preferred having a functional ray gun of some sort, the Targibbon was actually more content with a simple knife such as the ones in the crate. Elim's understanding and use of technology was... mediocre. So he much rather preferred something like this: a small, concealable weapon that was simple and reliable, unlike their ship's systems that had decided to fail for... whatever reason. Syndral was going to have a fit if they didn't figure out the problem soon. Picking out a small knife out of the crate, he ran a finger along the flat of the blade before deeming it satisfactory. He was more versed in the art of unarmed combat, but he certainly wasn't going to complain about having a knife or ten at his disposal.

Shifting over to the other crate, he opened it up and peered at its contents. Elim was indeed class C, but he was a bit concerned about the nature of this food. Picking out a little plastic packet and examining it more closely, his worries were confirmed. The biscuits were completely drained of any sort of moisture. Good for keeping them preserved and for easy access, no doubt, but this posed a problem for the amphibian-like alien. Keeping himself hydrated was priority number one for him, and for him, eating something completely and utterly dry like this would be like a man eating salty foods in a desert. It wasn't a good idea. Now if there was a source of water, this wouldn't be a problem, but they couldn't yet confirm that there was a reliable source of water out there - or if the water was even drinkable, assuming it existed at all on this foreign planet. The latter would prove deadly, but he didn't allow himself to worry himself over it yet.

Instead, catching his reptilian comrade's eye, he shook the little plastic packet questioningly before offering it to her: Can you make use of this?


"Oh, but I should have realized sooner! Perhaps I could have done something before we opened the door...." Even as he said it, he was quite certain that there was really nothing he could've done to make the sudden light easier on her eyes. It wasn't as if there were a medical procedure that assisted with adjusting someone's eyes to the light. Still, he felt as though he could have at least acknowledged his dear companion's troubles sooner, instead of celebrating the very thing that was making it difficult to even open her eyes.

Well, what's done is done. The least he could do now was make it easier for her to make this transition from a dark to a brighter environment. Heeding her suggestion, he tried to fill up as much of the doorway as he could, which might've looked silly had someone else been there to witness it.

"I believe you are quite right, my dear. There is little we can do beyond giving you time," he admitted, accepting that his earlier notion that he could've done something to prevent this was likely incorrect. Clicking his beak quietly a few times, he assured her, "We'll stay here as long as you need to."


((OOC: DANG IT, WAAKSIAN, I WAS LITERALLY JUST ABOUT TO SAY THAT!
Oh, and I forgot to mention in the last post that I liked your idea about the weapon and food crates, as well as the food classes. It's very clever! ))