darkSpyro

Morph heaved at the crowbar several times, pushing and pulling it in different directions, even when his hands and arms burned and demanded a break. Only shortness of breath prompted him to pull away from the door. He doubled over and panted.

"Geez, how much more does this thing take? Did they clasp on the inside? I hope not, if that's the case there's no way we're getting out of here. Regardless, he was determined to try again. After cooling off for a few more moments, he continued his task, this time with a little more rigor. The others were depending on him in that moment, and he would not stand for them to see him fail.

Straining, he gave another hard push, which led to a short, low screech. The doors moved a hair. At the sight of progress, Morph gave a triumphant laugh. "Hey, they moved! We're getting out of here!" Hope gave an edge to his strength as he pushed more vigorously. It gave way inch by inch until the space was too big for the crowbar to be of any use. It still wasn't wide enough for any of them to squeeze through, but it was enough for him to grasp both sides. Throwing the crowbar aside, it clattering on the floor, he tried prying the doors apart by hand. His raw strength was less effective, but they were loosened enough to give way a little more.

The mild adrenaline had distracted him from the overheating and lightheadedness, which eventually became too strong to ignore. He withdrew, panting more heavily than before. Head pounding and muscles burning, he looked at his handiwork, staring into the deep, yet comforting darkness that awaited them in the main hallway. With a satisfied exhalation, he turned to his teammates, stretching his tightened muscles. "It might be just enough for you two to squeeze through. Go on ahead, just give me a moment to cool down."


OOC: Why does this keep happening to us somehow...
Oh, okay, good! Thank you! I figured that since there would be a whole hodgepodge of alien species enlisted, it would make sense to allude to that fact.

At the notion of having to stay in the ship a little while longer, Vuxta frowned. "Oh dear, we can't do that! What about the mission, and the ship, and survival needs, and other really important stuff? There are other things we need to take care of. My eyes shouldn't be a priority."

She felt bad about holding them back. She didn't want to be the reason they weren't prepared for whatever awaited them on this planet. They still didn't know the state of their ship, or what became of the Order ship that followed them. Surely waiting around like sitting ducks wouldn't be good for their safety. There had to be something they could do in the meantime, at the very least.

Vuxta then grinned once she had an idea. "I'll search the ship for supplies. There has to be something in here of use, and in the meantime, you can..." As she trailed off, she frowned once more. She didn't feel right leaving her companion to wander around outside on his own, and Plagarius was nowhere near comfortable enough in the dark to help her search. It would be thoughtless of her to ask him to come back into an environment that was so stressful for him. "That plan won't work, will it?" She sighed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be such a hindrance to you. I wish I could join you out there."



Syndral began taking the knives and finding convenient places to strap them to her body for later use. She strapped a few smaller ones to the sides of her legs. She paused to consider strapping a couple to her chest, but ultimately decided against it. While she would have liked to have as many as she could carry, she didn't want to cover up the mechanical features of her suit. Even though they weren't currently functional, there was no telling when she would have a chance to fix them, and Syndral didn't want anything covering up those features in such an event. She sure hoped she could get everything working again soon.

When Elim offered her the packet of rations, she took them to look them over. Using the glowstick to see, she read the label. Ah, dehydrated biscuits, of course it would be something so bland. Syndral wasn't particularly thrilled about it, but it wouldn't hurt her any to eat them. Due to living in such a harsh environment filled with many poisonous creatures, there was very little that would be harmful for Zvarranik consumption. Even in a desert environment, they could safely eat dry, salty, and spicy food while still needing very little water. So eating the biscuits would be just fine for Syndral. The problem was the fact that it was a biscuit. It was such a plain source of nutrients, and it wasn't even meat. It at least had the vitamins she needed, though, so she could make use of it. She just wouldn't like it.

Syndral gave a nod to Elim. "I can safely consume them." She figured she mine as well keep them in her utility belt. Nothing in there would be useful to her now anyway, so she might as well use it for ration storage.

The Zvarranik turned to the door when Morph called out that it may be wide enough for them. She stood there and stared into the darkness for a moment. She thankfully had a glowstick to guide her, but she still didn't like the idea of stepping out into more darkness. However, they still needed to get out of here, which meant she would have to traverse the hallway in the dark. With a sigh, Syndral approached the door. She held out the glowstick, checking to see how wide the door actually was. It appeared to be enough for her skinny frame to slip through. So she carefully stepped through to the other side, taking slow, steady steps. The darkness alone made her hesitant to progress. Even once on the other side, she paused to wave the glowstick around and check her surroundings.

Elim blinked in acknowledgment when Syndral told him that she could make use of the biscuits, though he wasn't sure if she caught the gesture in the low-light conditions. It was good that at least one of them could consume the rations without any sort of problem. It would undoubtedly make things slightly easier for them in this disastrous situation. Turning back to the weapons crate, he armed himself with a few more knives. Unlike Syndral's attire, Elim's suit was more designed to keep him alive than to carry an arsenal of tools and weaponry. Still, the loops and pockets on his belt would suffice, and he was well accustomed to keeping a knife hidden in his boot. With that settled, he turned back to the food crate, digging through its contents like a groundhog digging a new burrow. Much of the offensive, water-devoid biscuit packets were collecting in a stack next to the crate as the Targibbon dug deeper. Maybe what he was looking for wasn't in here. Maybe it was in a separate -

His searching came to an end when he finally struck liquid gold. Or, more accurately, bottled water. This discovery was the best thing that's happened since this crash, as far as the Targibbon's chances of survival were concerned. He couldn't quite read the labels on them in the dark, though Elim assumed that water wasn't quite as complicated as far as food was concerned, with the different classes and whatnot. He hoped that it was suitable for a wider range of species, unlike the food, so that it was safe for all of them to consume. He also hoped that this was merely a temporary solution, that these rations weren't the only sources of edible food and water on this planet. If there was nothing else out there that they could find - or nothing else that was safe for them to consume - they were all in serious trouble, though Elim especially.

Had he been one to make much expression, he might have frowned at the thought. He was aware of just how susceptible he was to a lack of water. He was also aware of just how much of a hindrance that was, not only to himself, but to his comrades. Out of all of them, he was the most likely to slow them down with his unfortunate shortcomings. He could not help but suspect that if they did not find a stable source of water, he would become a liability. While he was determined not to let that happen, how is one supposed to win a battle against their own biology?

These thoughts were interrupted by Morph's proclamation of success. Rising from his crouched position next to the crates, he started following Syndral, though paused to seek out the crowbar that Morph had tossed aside. They would need it if they were going to escape the confines of the ship. Picking it up off the floor, he followed the retreating light of the glowstick over to the partly opened door. He inspected the opening for a moment before deeming it large enough from him to squeeze through. Slipping through the opening and arriving at the other side of the door, he stayed near it in case the Kwuerk needed help opening it the rest of the way. While he wasn't sure just how much help he could provide, he figured some help was better than none at all.


At Vuxta's words, he was reminded of the severity of their situation. Getting out of the confines of the ship had been a huge victory - for the claustrophobic, nyctophobic Corvonian, at least - but that was but a small accomplishment compared to the entirety of what lay ahead of them. They were crashed on a completely foreign planet, whose locals could be soft and cuddly or downright murderous, for all they knew. To top that off, the Order ship that had pursued them was still out there somewhere, possibly hunting them down this very moment. Still... "I am a doctor," Plagarius reminded her. "Your eyes are my priority." Perhaps his priorities weren't exactly practical when it came to what one should focus on whilst crashed on an alien planet, but he was a doctor, after all, so it was his instinct and his duty to tend to any and all ailments before anything else.

When the Sagabi spoke up again, he wasn't quite sure what had made her dismiss the plan she had been formulating. It sounded like a good idea to him. She could stay in the dark while he... Oh. Tilting his head, he said thoughtfully, "It would definitely be a good idea to search for supplies, I should think. And it would give your eyes time to adjust as well." He paused, then went on more sheepishly, "I confess, I am not too keen on going back in there myself. Perhaps there is something I could do nearby? I could keep watch, if that would serve a purpose." He finished his sentence with a hint of guilt in his words. He wished he wasn't so fearful of the darkened interior of the ship and could thusly do something of greater help. As it was, he felt quite useless in this situation.

Morph watched the two slip through, feeling accomplished. It was a small victory, and they weren't out of the ship just yet, but knowing that he could be helpful in ways that they couldn't pleased him. He glanced once at where his findings laid, now barely visible, but decided that they could retrieve them later once they've escaped. He thought about taking a knife or two before he went, but remembering their size, the idea of using them was displeasing.

Once he returned to a normal temperature, Morph held on to the doors again. Seeing Elim's silhouette standing close on the other side distracted him. He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, I can get out." He managed to slide the doors by a foot, enough for him to squeeze through without too much friction.

He slid out and entered the hallway. Glancing around in the darkness, derbies scattered about illuminated by Syndral's glowstick, he was reminded of the issue at hand. "So what even happened here? One moment we're chasing down those Hooders, and then next, we're plummeting to the ground, with all our power dead," he inquired, his voice lightly echoing against the walls. "Stuff like that doesn't just happen."

Vuxta gave a warm smile at his words. Maybe his priorities weren't in order, but it was still a nice gesture. "Plagarius, you're really sweet. Maybe impractical, but really sweet all the same." She paused to gather her thoughts. "Alright, so let's try to be productive while we give my eyes time to adjust. I don't think you need to block the door while I'm off looking around in the dark. I won't be directly in the light, so it shouldn't bother my eyes too much, and it should help more with the adjustment."

The Sagabi sighed. "But then there's the question of what you will do in the meantime. I don't want to ask you to come back in here, or go wandering off on your own." She stopped to think again. What could her companion do while she's searching? There had to be something. However, Vuxta was afraid there wasn't much he could do right now. "Maybe you could just keep watch," she agreed. "You could essentially guard the opening, you know, make sure something doesn't sneak up on me, I guess." Vuxta wasn't sure if that would actually happen, but it was nice to think someone could watch her back.

She had another thought. "You could just keep me company in the meantime. We could get to know each other a little better, since this is our first mission together. A nice conversation could keep us relaxed, since this seems to be a more stressful mission. Does that sound good to you?" It felt a little silly to ask him that, but she wanted to make sure he was okay with not physically do very much.



Syndral turned around to see that Morph had managed to squeeze through as well. Good, at least he wouldn't be stuck there. Now to get off the ship. She wanted to get out of this darkness, and see if the ship's exterior had suffered any damage. As an engineer, her main priority was the ship itself. Something had caused everything to malfunction, and that was a worrying thought to the Zvarranik. She wanted to get to the root of why everything quit working all of a sudden, and how to go about fixing it. Even without checking the status of everything, Syndral figured it had to be more than just crash damage, if there was any, since her own suit and robot weren't working either. As far as she could tell in this darkness, her suit and robot hadn't suffered any damage. So something else must be at fault.

"I need to check the engine room. Perhaps I can find some sort of clue there." Even in the dark, Syndral could find her way to the engine room. This wasn't her ship, and she didn't have the whole layout memorized, but she knew for sure where the engine room was. It would at least be some sense of familiarity in this darkness, and with the glowstick in hand, maybe she could get a clue about the status of the ship.

Despite Morph's reassurance, Elim stayed near him while he was on the other side of the door, glancing back to Syndral every now and then as he did so. It wasn't that he didn't trust that the Kwuerk could handle the door. Maybe it was paranoia, but he wanted to make sure he kept his comrades close to him at all times. While they haven't yet stepped out into the alien - possibly hostile - environment, he still wanted to make sure that everyone was accounted for. So much had gone wrong since coming to this planet, so the last thing he was about to do was let his guard down. The way he kept his comrades close, glancing about the nearly pitch black interior of the ship, he was behaving almost as if he expected that some alien creature was crawling along the walls, waiting until one of them got separated to pick them off. While he highly doubted this was the case, he wasn't about to dismiss the possibility of danger, either.

The sound of sliding metal on metal brought his attention back to Morph, who had managed to open the doors enough to where he could slip through. Listening to the Kwuerk's inquiry, the Targibbon frowned ever so slightly, both at the severity of their situation and his own current inability to properly form a reply. Thinking on it for a time, he then grabbed Morph's attention with a wave of the hand. He wasn't sure whether his comrade would actually be able to see or make sense of his gesturing in the dark, but it was better than standing in perfect silence making no attempt at a response. Raising a hand, he drew three circles in the air in front of him, the smaller ones residing within the larger ones. It was a simple, yet well known symbol of friendship and unity. The Brotherhood of Worlds's symbol. Elim did not know if they had something to do with their crash, but regardless, they were still out there somewhere, and not knowing just where their enemies were and what they were doing was never a good thing.

At the sound of Syndral's voice, he blinked his acknowledgment - though he doubted she could see it. He didn't know much about Morph and just what he was capable of, but having worked with Syndral, it was safe to assume that if anyone could figure out just what had gone wrong with their ship, it would be her. Looking back to the Kwuerk, he gestured for him to follow. Elim figured they might as well follow Syndral for now, until they found the door to their escape, at least. From there, they'd have to decide if they wanted to split up in the darkness to work on their respective tasks or stick together in the interests of more guaranteed safety.


At Vuxta's first comment, Plagarius trilled a bit at her words. Yes, he could agree with that assessment. He knew that his concerns weren't exactly listed the best way in this situation - not to mention other situations, as well - but that's why he was a doctor and not a strategist. The thought of him being a strategist of any sort was enough to make him twitter a bit. Growing more serious as she spoke up once again, he answered, "An excellent idea! How fortunate it is that we can work on moving forward while still giving your eyes the time they need to adjust." Though it wasn't a serious medical emergency in any sense of the word, he was concerned about her sensitive eyes. He hoped that, given time, they would adjust to the new lighting.

At her mention of what he could busy himself with and subsequent offer to better get to know each other, the Corvonian was quite ecstatic to agree. Socializing never failed to cheer the bird-man up. "That sounds wonderful! I only apologize that I can't be of much use otherwise," he said with a hint of regret in his voice. While he knew that Vuxta was very understanding of his fears - something he'd have to be sure to thank her for - he could not help but wish he could be of more help. Not that he'd be of much help even if he wasn't scared to go in there, probably. His night vision was just downright awful, and while there was light coming in through the now opened door, he wasn't sure he'd be able to successfully navigate around the interior, much less find some useful supplies. He'd probably end up knocking into everything and generally make more of a mess than he would be of help. That made him feel a bit better, knowing that it wasn't just his irrational fears holding him back, but another problem entirely, as well. It made him feel like he had a more legitimate reason that he should stay outside.

Tilting his head at her, he began what would probably be a long conversation between them. "So, I would assume you are nocturnal, yes? Have you been out and about during the daytime before?"


((OOC: I've been thinking about the Brotherhood and Order symbols, and I've found two that could work for the Brotherhood:
http://www41.homepage.villanov...rclesRedo11.png
https://image.freepik.com/free...r_318-61431.jpg
Do either of you have a preference? We could also come up with our own, of course, but I do like the idea of three circles being involved somehow. Don't really know why. X3))

Elim's hand wave caught Morph's eye and he set his attention on him. He watched him trace a symbol in the air with his finger, instinctively pricking his ears despite there being no sound to process. It was a quirk of his, and not too uncommon in others of his kind, to raise them when he focused strongly on something, regardless of whether or not there was a sound to be heard. They returned to their default position once he recognized the symbol. "Maybe it has something to do with them," he responded. "And if it does, I have a feeling that we'll be finding out very soon," he added bitterly, glancing aside and glaring at some imaginary object.

His ears pricked yet again at Syndral's voice. "You do that," he bluntly replied. He was about to turn away and began rummaging through more debris to keep himself busy, since there was nothing else he could be of use for at the moment, until Elim gestured to him again, this time to get him to follow them. He nodded and made a low groan of acknowledgement, trailing behind them. Though in actuality, it was a groan of mild annoyance concealed by acknowledgement. He didn't want to stand around and watch that reptilian lady fumble around in engine parts, but now wasn't a good time to complain. He held his peace when he realized that the engine room doors were probably sealed shut too, therefore requiring his assistance again.


OOC: Ah, see, I'm a little bit torn. Both of these could work, but they both convey different feelings. The first one is more complex and alien, while the second one is more simple and recognizable. One could say that the second would work better because it looks "friendlier" in a sense, but another could argue that since the Brotherhood is a faction of aliens, the first one would work better. I think I may be leaning on the first one, but don't count that as a vote. We still have the option to make one for ourselves.
This makes me curious about what the Order's symbol would look like. The Brotherhood represents "friendship and unity", but the Order represents... order. So, what would that look like?

"I'm glad you agree, but there's no need to apologize. I understand the dark is unsettling to you. Not everyone is comfortable with it. It's fine, I can search on my own." She smiled. With Plagarius in agreement of the plan, Vuxta began her search of the ship. She lowered herself to all fours and bounded off into the darkness. She felt no need to be slow or cautious, for she could see just fine. She had noticed a gathering of crates in the corner, likely set out of place by the crash, and she went over to investigate. Maybe there was something useful in them.

While the Sagabi searched, she listened to her companion talk in order to keep up the conversation. "Your assumptions would be correct. All of my kind are nocturnal, and we have the most beautiful nights on my planet. Such a lovely place to live." She gave a contented sigh. Vuxta was quiet for a moment before clearing her throat. "Anyway, yes, I've been out during the day before. It's rare, but sometimes you can't help it on the job, you know? You can't control when the sun's out, so you just have to deal with it and get the job done. Although I usually do nighttime jobs. It's just easier on me if it's dark. Plus, sometimes I need to play the guide for the others in the group."

Vuxta walked over to the first crate and opened it. She peeked inside and blinked upon seeing the contents. It looked like a bunch of high-tech gadgets. She wasn't entirely sure what they all were, but they looked pretty important, and also expensive. She picked one up and examined it. It was some type of metal sphere. Vuxta wondered if it was some kind of smoke ball. The Sagabi had made use of such gadgets in the past, as temporarily blinding her opponents was often part of her battle strategy. She considered testing it to see if it would work, but she didn't want to waste it now. Besides, it may end up being as dead as everything else. "I don't think we can use anything in this crate right now." She said before putting the sphere back and pushing the crate aside.



Syndral wasn't focused on her fellow agents, as her mind was preoccupied with trying to figure out why everything wasn't working. It was highly important to the Zvarranik that everything be fixed in a timely manner, preferably as soon as physically possible. There were too many unsettling thoughts about having no functional technology. Of course, having no power for the ship meant they couldn't get off the planet, but there were other things not working. Without power, none of their weapons or defenses were working. None of her gadgets were working, no bugbots, no communication system, no computer, no Motherbot, and no heated suit. Not having a reliable source of heat, as well as Motherbot to be her doctor as needed, were particularly unnerving thoughts. Syndral feared that if worst came to worst, she may very well struggle to survive without her technology. She simply needed to get everything working again.

The Zvarranik sensed movement, which distracted her from her thoughts. Elim's heat signature was moving, or more accurately, his hand was. She didn't really bother to look, sicne she doubted she would catch any of it with her eyes, so she just focused on his heat signature. He was moving his hand in circles, it seemed, but it was hard to tell for sure without actually seeing it. While she could detect their presence, and even some subtle movements, the heat signature alone often gave her a fuzzy image of what something actually was. She could easily tell Elim and Morph apart due to their varying body types, and also where they were in relation to her, but it was hard to pick up on any minute details. If anyone with a very similar body type was with them, she likely couldn't tell them apart with heat signatures alone. Likewise, the tracing of Elim's hand was a fuzzy image to her. She could sense it was moving, but the symbol came out far more abstract in her mind. So Syndral had very little idea of what he was trying to convey, until Morph spoke up.

Them? They were refering to someone else, but who exactly? Elim had moved his hand in a circular motion, as far as she could tell, and based on context, she felt she had a good idea of who they were talking about. Ah, yes, the Brotherhood, they very well could be behind this power shortage. Syndral ignored Morph's blunt reply as she pondered this idea further. If there were no damages from the crash, yet still nothing was working, then an outside force must be involved. Perhaps the Brotherhood ship used an EMP in a desperate attempt to escape, bringing the ships down in the process. If that was the case, then it would only be a matter of time until the effect wore off. Otherwise, there are surely repairs to make. Syndral just hoped it would be a simple job.


ooc: I pretty much agree with Waaksian's assessment. The first one does feel more alien, while the second feels friendlier. Both could work rather well, and it kinda depends what sort of conveyed feeling is more important, complex and alien, or simple and more friendly. Between these two designs alone, though, I think I'm leaning more towards the first one. But when it comes to making our own, don't look at me to come up with ideas for that. I can do characters and plot stuff easy, but artsy stuff like drawing is not really a strong suit of mine. I can kind of only speculate and comment on it.
I don't know, maybe since the Brotherhood has like round and friendly circles, the Order has more rigid shapes like triangles, or squares, or something like that.

If Elim had detected the annoyance in Morph's groan, he didn't say anything of it - not that he really could at the moment. Bringing a hand up to his temple above where the translator was lodged in his brain, he contemplated how this all could have happened. He wasn't very knowledgeable when it came to technology, largely due to the fact that his homeworld was essentially without it, but what could have rendered everything inoperable like this? Not only was the ship itself affected, but also a device buried deep in his head, along with Syndral's robot, too. It didn't make much sense to him, but then again, that wasn't really saying much. He should probably let the reptilian alien handle this, as it was her area of expertise, while he devoted his thought energy elsewhere.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a whole lot to think about that wouldn't devolve into pointless worrying. They could start formulating a plan once they made it outside the ship and got a glimpse of what they were dealing with, but they were still trapped inside. Until they left their ship, Elim would simply have to resign to being basically useless.


"Oh, how good of you to understand," he said. "I would surmise that not everyone would, as it certainly makes things more complicated than they need to be." Gesturing with his hands - almost as if he were painting a picture in front of him - he continued, "But you do have my deepest gratitude. I cannot express how thankful I am for your compassion. Fearing something is one thing, but having someone who does not at all understand or sympathize is... something else altogether."

Peering into the darkness, he tried to make out Vuxta's shape as she began answering his earlier inquiry. Shaking his head to himself when all he could discern was blackness, he listened attentively as his companion spoke, offering an occasional hum or nod of the head as she did so. When she became silent again, Plagarius responded, "You seem quite fond of your home's nights. I confess, I probably would not appreciate them as much as you do, but I trust that they are quite beautiful for those willing to brave the darkness." Chittering thoughtfully, he asked, "Does your planet have any moons? Mine does not, you see, making the nights almost pitch black. This is no doubt part of the reason we Corvonians tend to fear the dark - our nights are so dreadfully dark that it's impossible to see a thing! Though I suppose you would have no trouble." Thinking for a moment, he said, "We have no moons, perhaps, but we can still see the stars. If there's any part of night that I would admit to liking, it's the stars."

Taking a moment to transition from one topic to the next, he then continued, "Ah, I see. I must commend you on your efforts then, for you're far more flexible than I. If the sun is below the horizon, then I'm indoors. Well, most of the time. There are some planets that are so lit up that their nights are practically as bright as their days, it seems. You still wouldn't catch me out alone, though." He trilled a bit, saying, "If the night finds us before we find some sort of shelter, at least I'll have you around to cling to." He didn't make it clear whether he meant that literally or not.


((OOC: And I agree with both of your assessments. I'm leaning towards the first of the two options myself, so if we're all in agreement, that could be the Brotherhood symbol. Unless we want to try coming up with our own, which would probably be up to Waaksian and me.
You're reading my mind now Cynder09. I was thinking since the Brotherhood symbol has more fluid and curved shapes, the Order symbol would have sharp, pointed, geometric shapes. To me, a geometric shape is one that can be meticulously measured and defined - it's orderly, in a sense.
I've found a couple of ideas for an Order symbol:
(The symbol on the bottom left-hand corner
http://www.clipartbest.com/cli...5/RTGEr55yc.png
http://s3.amazonaws.com/illust....jpg?1326672072))

Morph followed his comrades, and saw that the doors to the engine room were indeed shut. Without skipping a beat, he moved to Elim's side, muttering "I'll get it" as he grabbed the crowbar with what was probably too much vehemence. He swiftly made way to the doors and immediately started working on them. They were smaller and less reinforced than the cockpit doors, and took less time to finally pry apart. Pushing open a gap wide enough for Syndral to get through with relative ease, he stepped aside and wordlessly gestured for her to enter.


OOC: Did that symbol come from anything else? I don't want to copy anyone else's work (not that I'm suggesting you would). If not, then I'd like to use it.
I'm not too sure about the first one. The design looks uneven. And this is probably because I don't understand what the image means, but I don't see how it could relate to the Order. The second one I like the idea of. The shapes are aligned in an orderly fashion, which is what the Order wants for the society they control. I only wish that it could be tweaked in a way that feels slightly less easy to look at, in the way that the first image for the Brotherhood symbol does. Make it more alien, as we described before.

Also, I don't think you ever responded to LegendOfZelda, Wylrin, unless you did so in private. Just a reminder.

((OOC: The symbol that I suggested for the Brotherhood? I'm pretty sure that "symbol" is actually from an online math lesson of sorts. It can be found here:
http://www41.homepage.villanov...hreecircles.htm
Yeah, I think the second one fits the Order more, but it looks too simple and familiar, not "alien" enough like you said.

I PM'd them a while ago, but they haven't responded.))

"Oh, Plagarius, you give me too much credit." Her tone suggested that she was flattered by his words. "I've dealt with people who are afraid of the dark before. Everyone seems to have varying levels of comfort when it comes to the dark, but unless someone can navigate it just fine on their own like I can, the general concensus seems to be that they would much prefer to have some source of light to guide them. It's not an uncommon discomfort if you're not a nocturnal species. I may not understand exactly, since I think the darkness is comforting and beautiful, but I do understand that not everyone feels the same way about it."

Vuxta's gaze was focused on the scattered boxes around her as she checked them for useful supplies. She wasn't watching Plagarius's movements, but she could still clearly hear his voice. She didn't catch any of the nods, but she could tell he was listening by the hum of his voice and his actual reply. "Oh, yes, very much so. I miss my home when I'm out on these missions." She sighed, a bit more sadly this time. "I feel like you would like our nights, though, at least more than your own. We do have a moon, only one though, but one's enough. The moon and stars are a lovely sight, when you can actually see them, that is. It's often hard to see them through the trees, so you have to climb up pretty high to get a good view. It's worth it, though." She raised her head, as if looking at the ceiling, but closed her eyes. "Even if you can't see the light of the moon, you can always follow a trail of mushrooms if you ever lose your way." She began picturing her home as she continued. "The mushrooms of my planet have this radiant blue glow about them, and we often use them as a light source. We plant them in areas we would like lit up so that it's easier to find. They only glow at night, which works just fine for us. Our home usually isn't pitch black, but some areas are, although we can still navigate them just fine. Usually, the uncharted or dangerous areas are pitch black, as we mark the safe areas with mushrooms." She opened her eyes and smiled a bit as she had a thought. "Maybe you would be more comfortable with nights if they weren't pitch black, all you need are some mushrooms."

Vuxta took a moment to check the next box, realizing she had been slacking off for a moment in order to focus on the conversation. She continued to listen, though, as she opened it and peeked inside. "I'm flexible when I need to be. The daytime doesn't seem so bad, aside from all the bright light. So long as my eyes adjust, I can handle it just fine." This next crate seemed to contain a variety of survival gear that would be useful in outdoor environments, such as camping equippment and the like. While she didn't really need anything special herself, she thought some of these things could still be useful. Vuxta picked up a flashlight and checked to see if it would work. No light came on. "Too bad it isn't powered by mushrooms." She muttered to herself as sort of a joke. She put it back in the crate. "Don't worry, Plagarius, I can safely guide you at night. Just think of me as a big, cuddly teddy bear, that sometimes glows in the dark." She giggled. Her tone suggested she thought of it as a joke, and not something that very well may end up happening.



Syndral made her way to the engine room in silence, with this far off look, as if she were on auto pilot. She essentially was in a sense, as her brain was still busy trying to figure out this problem. Granted it was difficult to actually arrive at a conclusion without inspecting everything first, but she could at least theorize what might possibly be wrong. She put her mind at rest for a moment to check her surroundings. She stopped when she noticed they had arrived at the engine room, and of course it was shut. Syndral turned to Morph, but had no reason to speak up, since he was already on the task. She waited patiently until he was done. Had it not been for her horns, she would have missed his gesture. Syndral wasted no time entering the room.

She quickly made her way over to the engine, and immediately began hovering the glowstick over it to check for any possible damages. She diligently checked every inch of the machine, taking her time so as not to miss anything, and even going as far as checking the same spot multiple times. There didn't appear to be any major damages. Maybe a scratch or two, but nothing that would cause the power to be off. Once the Zvarranik was done with that task, she unsheathed one of the knives and began using it to unscrew the cover off of a panal. She took the cover and set it aside, before using the glowstick to check inside. Now with crash damage pretty much being crossed off the list as a possible issue, it was time to check the power source itself to get a clue as to what might be wrong. Syndral continued to inspect every inch as diligently as before. Nothing seemed to be out of place. She attempted to restart the engine manually, which would take a few moments, if successful. She waited, lightly tapping a clawed foot against the floor as she did so. After what felt like an agonizingly long wait, there were no results to show for it. Syndral sighed and set her tools down. She sat there by the engine, taking deep breaths. The Zvarranik's fears had been confirmed. This wasn't a problem she could easily fix at this moment in time. Which meant, she would be without technology for a little while longer.


ooc: Ew, math. xD I mean, it's good that it doesn't belong to anyone. I'd be fine with that being the Brotherhood symbol.
Well, great minds think alike. But I guess non-great ones do as well. xD Sharp, pointed shapes make sense to me.
The first one is kinda cool, but somehow doesn't feel very fitting for the Order. I don't know, I just don't get Order vibes from it. It feels oddly chaotic and aggressive to me somehow. But the second feels orderly and very fitting. It's something I could see actually being the Order symbol. I do like it, but I do get how it doesn't feel entirely alien. I don't know how to make it alien, though.

Also, I'm obviously not en engineer, so excuse me if everything sounds vague and kinda dumb, because I'm not Syndral. I don't actually know what I'm talking about. xD

Morph could hear light clattering and banging as Syndral ran her diagnostics, as well as the clinking of her scaled feet as she walked to and fro. Rather than standing there idly as she worked, he turned to where more rubble and objects were strewn about-- only to remember that Syndral still had the glow sticks, as the only light to be seen was a very faint beam through the doors of the engine room. He sighed in irritation and kicked himself mentally, only to remember yet another thing. He had found them in the first medical kit, therefore the second one had to have some as well.

Retracing his steps in the near darkness, Morph made way to the cockpit, occasionally stumbling on unidentifiable items on the floor and swearing under his breath every time he did so. He squeezed through the doors once he found them, and searched out the vague shapes of the boxes he had left behind earlier. He took no time to identify the unopened medical kit and looked inside. To his relief and satisfaction, it contained glow sticks as well. He snapped one, its white light illuminating his surroundings, and he returned to the entrance of the engine room. He set the medical kit down, breaking another glow stick and handing it to Elim.

Now that he could see things with much more clarity, Morph noticed the wound on the side of his comrade's head that Syndral had stitched up. His ears perked as he assessed its condition. It wasn't bleeding now like it assumed it was before, but the scent of agitated flesh still faintly permeated from it. "Are you feeling better?" he asked.


OOC: I'd recommend doing some research on engineering. You don't have to be an expert on it or anything, but it's good to know the basics of anything when it's a key part of a character. You probably know this and don't need to hear my lecturing, haha. I tend to find a certain subject more interesting when it's in a role play, so it makes the learning process much easier. For me, anyway.

As the crowbar was swiped from his hand, Elim took note of the unnecessary force used behind the action, but dedicated no further thought to it. He figured that Morph - being the zxicha he was - was no doubt unsettled by this unfortunate series of events on this planet, and his feelings were no doubt contaminating his actions. That decided, he watched as Syndral slipped through the door into the engine room. If he had been more technologically knowledgeable, he might have gone in as well and offered whatever assistance he could. As it was, his skills in dealing with technology were far inferior to hers, and even if they weren't, he figured he'd only get in the way of the Zvarranik's work.

So he was left in the corridor as Morph headed back to the room they had previously escaped. Elim couldn't do all that much in this situation - trapped in a metal prison that was cloaked in darkness, requiring technological prowess to restore the power and physical strength to get through the barriers in their way - but if there was one thing he could do, it was ensure the safety of his comrades. Even without advanced weaponry or superior musculature, the Targibbon was a force to be reckoned with in unarmed combat. If anyone or anything so much as got within striking distance of either of his comrades, the Targibbon would unleash hell on them. He might have pitied anyone who would try to harm them, if he were capable of it. As it was, Elim did not have the inconvenience of feeling remorse when dealing with his enemies, making him all the more dangerous.

As Morph returned - with glowsticks in hand, thankfully - Elim watched the illuminated space behind the Kwuerk, his eyes scanning for anything lurking in his blind spot. Of course, there was nothing there, but he wasn't going to neglect keeping an eye out simply because it was improbable that anything else was in the ship with them. Taking the glowstick as it was offered to him - careful not to touch Morph's hand in the process - the Targibbon held it in one hand while keeping his weapon at the ready in his dominant hand. He was moving the glowstick to and fro, chasing away the darkness in the corners as if searching for the monsters that hid there when Morph spoke up. Turning to him, Elim simply blinked once at him, his way of saying, Yes.

He wasn't sure if the Kwuerk would understand his foreign, nonverbal communication, however. Targibbons were not a well known species by any means, preferring to keep to themselves, so he doubted that his blink would register to Morph the way he intended it to. So, as a demonstration that he was feeling well, he flipped the blade in his hand a few times. He was well enough to put up a fight, if necessary.


"Oh, I think not," he insisted. "I give credit where credit is due." And then some, but whether Plagarius was aware of this or not was uncertain. In his mind, Vuxta was being very kind with him, and that alone deserved some sort of recognition. Tilting his head, he continued, "Ah, yes. I'm sure I'm not the first you've met that has expressed wariness of the dark, though I somehow doubt any of their fears have been as... extreme as my own. I confess, I'm not sure whether it is my inability to see that frightens me so, or the uncertainty if there is anyone around me." To most, the darkness no doubt elicited a fear of what lurked within it. To Plagarius, however, the darkness gave him a rather different fear. To a frightened Corvonian, something they can't see might as well not exist at all. It is the fear that they are so terribly alone with nothing else around them that adds to their already remarkable fear of the dark.

At first, Vuxta's suggestion that he might actually like her planet's nights seemed doubtful, but as he considered her words, he admitted, "Your nights do seem more well lit than my own. I cannot say that I would be comfortable enough to go out for a late night stroll there, but I think I could appreciate that your nights aren't completely black." Thinking for a moment, he said, "It sounds as though your mushrooms are very similar to the lanterns we use on my planet. Granted, the lanterns didn't exactly grow like your mushrooms did, but we use them to light up our cities and our homes. We still do not particularly like going outside at night, but the warm glow of the lanterns gives a sense of safety when we are indoors. We are no longer huddled inside our homes, fearful that the darkness of night might seep into our houses. Instead, the lanterns ward off the darkness away from our homes. It gives a sense of security that we hadn't always had in the distant past." Shivering slightly, he added, "I cannot imagine living in a time where lanterns did not exist."

Shaking off that unpleasant thought, he continued, "I am glad that the daylight doesn't usually bother your eyes like this. I assume sudden transitions from dark to light are the only time this really happens." At Vuxta's last comment, Plagarius perked up a bit, saying, "You glow in the dark? How wonderful! I'll be so glad to have you around when night falls, definitely. I should think that it would be hard for us to get separated if one of us glowed in the night." Not to mention how hard it would be for them to get split up if Plagarius kept his promise about clinging to her when night fell.


((OOC: We'll have to think of some way to tweak the second symbol to make it seem more alien, then. Or keep looking for another. Or make our own.
I'm the same way with Plagarius, Cynder09. He might be a doctor, but I most certainly am not. I try to research what I can, but it's not like you can learn a doctorate's degree worth of knowledge just by looking stuff up on the internet. ))

With a sigh, Vuxta began gently shaking her head, but her sigh quickly turned into a light giggle. "Alright then, Plagarius, I'll graciously accept that credit." It didn't seem like she would win that little argument. It wasn't important enough to discuss anyway, and it was a flattering comment. So she decided to leave it at that. "Well, I guess you are a first in that regard, but it's fine, we can work around that. Part of good teamwork is knowing each other's strengths and weaknesses, and fortunately, your weakness is a strength of mine. So I imagine our combined traits will compliment each other nicely." Rather than focusing on the negatives of having such a strong fear, she preferred to think positively about how well their partnership was going already.

"Well, if you ever did go out for a late night stroll there, you wouldn't be alone. There would be plenty of Sagabi that would be glad to talk to you, myself included." Vuxta smiled, even though he wouldn't have seen it. She giggled. "No, I don't think lanterns grow naturally. At least I've never seen any that do. But I get what you mean. It's your planet's version of a light source. At least you have something to give you that secuirty. I'm glad your kind aren't so afraid indoors anymore. No one should be uncomfortable in their own home."

Vuxta nodded out of instinct, before realizing he wouldn't be able to see that. "Yeah, the light doesn't usually bother me. Once my eyes adjust, I'm fine. It's just the sudden transitions that are hard, and well, getting used to a schedule change. Honestly, just being awake during the day is harder." She chuckled softly. Poking around in the crate, she found something very useful and grinned upon seeing it. "Oh, a first aid kit, very nice!" She began walking back to Plagarius with it in hand. Hearing his reaction to her ability, she giggled. "Well, yes, sometimes. It's not quite bright enough to light up the dark or anything, but you shouldn't have any trouble losing me." For a moment, Vuxta considered showing off this ability, but the light from outside would surely overpower it and make it seem less bright, so she decided against it for now. She walked up to Plagarius and held out the first aid kit. "Look what I found. This will surely come in handy."



Syndral sighed and rose to her feet. She sheathed the knife and picked up the glowstick. She paused to stare at the engine for a moment. Unfortunately, there was just nothing she could do at the moment. Something was preventing it from working, something she couldn't quite fix without more information. She sighed again. This was going to be a long mission. A long, miserable mission. With yet another sigh, the Zvarranik slowly began making her way back to her allies. Her head was lowered and her shoulders slumped. Syndral squeezed back through the opening and just stood there for a moment. She didn't even try to make eye contact with anyone, instead turning her gaze to the darkened floor. They had a right to know, as much as it would pain her to say it out loud. The very thought made her sigh again. Syndral hesitated, nearly having to force the words out. "As of right now, I am unable to fix this malfunction." Her words were slow and quiet.



ooc: Yeah, even with research, I can't exactly become an engineer myself overnight. And not everything would even be easy to find. And then, for me at least, there's the matter of trying to apply research and logic to things like fictional alien technology. Granted I'm sure there's a way to do that, but it sounds more tedious than just researching something and applying that logic. But I really should be doing that, for Syndral's sake, so she doesn't end up sounding like an idiot who doesn't know what she's doing. But I don't always have the time or energy to do something like that.

Morph noticed how Elim meticulously avoided brushing against his hand as he accepted the glow stick, but he thought little of it. He seemed to be just another alien who disliked physical contact. Syndral apparently was the same way, since she had apologized for having to tend to his wounds earlier. This made him feel somewhat more comfortable, knowing that they would give him all the space he needed. By no means did he outright despise any sort of physical contact, as a fleeting touch of the hand was hardly a breach of personal space in his mind. He just knew that neither of them would touch them unless it was absolutely necessary. It was rather silly to think that they'd try to coddle or comfort him, since they were far from being the cuddly sort, but it offered him some piece of mind in an otherwise stressful, and possibly dire situation.

At first, Elim's only response to his inquiry was a mere blink. It didn't take long for Morph to figure out that it might have been intended as an affirmation, and his demonstration with the knife confirmed it to be so. "Okay, good."

He turned his ear towards the engine room when he heard Syndral approach, but didn't turn to look at her. He scowled and folded his arms upon hearing the new development. Well, that was just splendid. Not even the best they could manage could help them. He had seen the Zvarranik's credentials when they had first met before the mission. She was one of the best engineers the Order had to offer. If she couldn't figure out the problem, then certainly Elim and Morph couldn't.

Remembering that Syndral could have-- and with nigh certainty did-- see his credentials, he turned his head away from her completely, flattening his ears and glaring at the floor. It took him a few moments of pride-swallowing to finally address her, although with his back still turned, and not without heaving a particularly irritated sigh. "Well, what do you think it could have been? EMP? And how bad? Did the circuitry look damaged?" He was no expert, but he knew that electromagnetic pulses could cause damage to electronics due to the high-voltage energy they put off. And it could range from minor to permanent. Hopefully, if there was any hardware damage, their case would be the former, with the more important electronics at least. Otherwise, they had a tough time ahead of them.


OOC: I have a lot of time on my hands for research, so I can go ahead and look up the more technical, sciencey stuff that shows up in the RP.

Morph was quite correct in his assumption that the Targibbon was the sort to avoid physical contact, though there was also more to it than that. Elim had learned the hard way that some species' skin contains enough salt to singe him. He wasn't sure if the Kwuerk was one such species, and the gloves he wore would protect him regardless of just how salty someone's touch could be, but it was a habit ingrained in him for his own protection, and it was unlikely that he would change it any time soon.

At Morph's response, it became clear that he had either understood his blink or interpreted the demonstration with the knife as a sign that he was feeling well. That was good, as it meant that Elim didn't have to try and further clarify what he was trying to say, and that, despite his translator not working at the moment, he could still communicate when it was necessary. He would much rather not having to mime what he was trying to say, but he wasn't about to complain. They had all survived the crash, and none of them had been seriously injured. That was good enough for him.

When Syndral rejoined them and told them the bad news, Elim didn't visibly react, though he was turning this new piece of information over in his head and considering their options. He couldn't say for Morph, but Elim knew that he himself could be of no help in such a scenario. Even if he were more technologically capable, he highly doubted he could ever surpass Syndral's skill. If she couldn't get the ship up and running again, then no one could. Which meant they were stuck here. This idea didn't sit well with him. They hadn't had a chance to properly evaluate the status of this planet's inhabitants before plummeting towards the surface. They could be dealing with creatures hardly beyond the intelligence of animals, or they could be dealing with a civilization on par with their own technology and capabilities. Which brought about another disturbing thought. Whatever had grounded their ship like this, was it possible that the residents of Lama Yaqaan had done this? Had they detected unfamiliar vessels approaching their planet and reacted accordingly, forcing them down to be dealt with? Was their ship being surrounded at this very moment?

Elim was just about to voice these concerns - somehow, without actually voicing them - when the ship suddenly lurched to the side. He didn't quite lose his balance, though he did slam rather unceremoniously into the wall. He wasn't hurt in the slightest, though. If anything, he was on high alert, his weapon at the ready and his eyes darting to and fro despite the fact that there was nothing to be found in the ship's interior. Whatever had jostled their ship was outside.


"I am glad," Plagarius responded when Vuxta told him that she'd accept his compliment. He thought she deserved the praise, so he was happy to see that she was willing to receive it. He chittered thoughtfully at her next words, saying, "Yes, unless you have worked with a Corvonian before, I doubt you've met anyone that regards the darkness quite like I do." And that was probably true. Though it wasn't uncommon for those of other species to possess some level of fear regarding the dark, Corvonians' reactions in such a setting were notably different. While others might jump at the slightest of sounds in the night, the bird-like species is actually far more disconcerted if it is completely and eerily quiet. A sound in the night - however frightening - at least meant that something or someone else was near them. Even if it was some sort of vicious predator, a Corvonian is very strange in that they would rather be in the company of an enemy than be completely alone. This was hardly beneficial to the Corvonians' survival in such situations, but that was simply how their minds worked. Plagarius was simply glad that Vuxta didn't think too much of this strange fear of his. Indeed, she seemed quite content to simply accept it for what it was, even point out that their respective strengths and weaknesses could end up working in their favor.

At her mention of how the nights on her planet were never devoid of people, he said, "Oh, that sounds much better! I cannot say I would walk as confidently in your nights as I would during the day, but it hardly sounds as bad as nights on my own planet. You won't find people out and about during the night there, you see. But having others to be around and converse with would no doubt make it a more pleasant experience. I daresay I might actually want to see one of your nights, someday. Perhaps it would help me overcome my indiscriminate fear of the dark, knowing that not all nights are so devastatingly black and lonesome." He twittered at her comment on the lanterns, and agreed, "No, I should think not." Pausing for a moment, adopting a more serious tone from his earlier amusement, he said, "I do not claim to know what life for our kind was like before lanterns, but I confess, I really do not want to try imagining it. It must have been horrible, to be so afraid once the sun went down." Brightening up a bit, he added, "But at least it is not something we have to worry about anymore."

Nodding, he said, "I am glad that the daylight doesn't bother you to this extent all the time. I cannot imagine how dreadful that would be." Tilting his head a certain way, he went on, "I wouldn't know, though I suspect I would have similar troubles if I tried to stay up all night and sleep during the day." And that was most certainly true. Corvonians seemed to have an internal chronometer of sorts. When the sun came over the horizon, they would immediately wake, regardless of whether or not the sunlight could actually reach them. When the sun dipped below the horizon, they would immediately grow drowsy. It was very hard for Corvonians to deviate from this internal schedule their bodies seemed to possess. Though depending just how dark and spooky the night on this unknown planet could get, it was very possible that he would be too driven by fear to rest his head.

He was brought out of such thoughts at Vuxta's mention of a medkit, which made Plagarius's head perk up in a very bird-like fashion. He was very interested in such a discovery, as well as the information the Sagabi was providing in regards to her glow in the dark capabilities. Trilling a bit, he said, "So long as I can easily find you, that will be good enough for me." When she approached him, he was very glad to actually see her again. It wasn't as if he thought she'd disappeared, as they'd been holding a conversation for a while now, but it was nice to actually see her instead of just pitch blackness.

"I am so glad you managed to find this!" he told her. "Though it is my hope that we will never have to use it, I am comforted that we will at least be prepared." He was about to take the first aid kit, perhaps quickly file through its contents to see what he'd have to make do with, but as he raised his hands, he stopped. "Ah, a moment," he requested quietly, retrieving his gloves from his pocket. He had taken them off to get a better grip on the door, but now he seemed anxious to get them back on again. His talons were incredibly sharp, so much so that he could potentially hurt someone with them if he was careless. So he preferred wearing his protective gloves at all times, for the safety of everyone else around him. With his gloves back on, he seemed more comfortable, and took the first aid kit without any troubles.

"No, you're the first one I've worked with," Vuxta admitted. "So it's kind of a new experiance for me. But don't worry, you won't have to face the dark alone. I'll be here to guide you." In a way, she understood not wanting to be left alone, even though she was quite comfortable in the dark herself. Sagabi were a sociable race that often preferred to be in groups, even when there was nothing to fear. They just liked having others around, and for that reason, it was rare to see a Sagabi alone. There was always another close by to keep them company.

She chuckled lightly. "Well, my kind are all nocturnal, so you'll find more people active during the night. The only ones up during the day are the ones doing important jobs, so you won't really have anyone you can just casually have a conversation with. But at night, everyone will be up, and you won't have to be alone." Vuxta smiled. "I would love to have you visit my home planet one day, or night rather," she chuckled. "I think it would be good for you to see it. You could see how beautiful and fun the night can really be. There's the moon, the stars, the mushrooms, and of course everyone could simply start glowing if you still need more light. And not only that, there would be plenty of people to talk to. I personally always enjoy watching the kids play, and I'm sure they'd be interested in meeting someone like you." She paused for a moment. "Well, that's good. I'm glad that's no longer a concern for you."

Her smiled faded. "Yes, it would be pretty awful. If that were the case, then I couldn't possibly do any day jobs. I'd be strictly a night agent. And then we might not have ever met and gotten a chance to work together." Her smile returned. "So, fortunately, the light doesn't bother me, and we can enjoy working together." Vuxta nodded. "Yeah, it's hard to change schedules when you're so used to it being a certain way. It can really interfere with your sleep patterns."

"I'm sure you will. The glowing is bright enough to attract attention at the very least." Vuxta smiled. She watched as he paused in taking the med kit, wondering why he did so, until he got his gloves back out. She waited patiently until he had them back on, and happily gave him the med kit. "I hope we won't need it either, but at least we'll have it in case of an emergency."



Syndral sighed. Her voice returned to its normal speed and volume, "It did not appear to be any sort of EMP effect that I have seen before. The state of the engine is a peculiar one, as nothing appears to be damaged, at least not permanently so. The effects should be temporary, but even attempting to manually restart the system provided no results. It is as if there is an interference that is preventing the system from functioning, and one unlike anything I have seen before." She paused in thought. "I doubt the Brotherhood is behind this. It does not even seem to be the cause of any sort of weapon. It seems--"

The ship lurching to the side interrupted her, causing the Zvarranik to be thrown into the wall. She shook it off and straightened herself out, regaining her balance. She immediately raised a hand to her forehead to activate her holographic screen, to hopefully scan the area for what might have done this. She waited anxiously for a moment, before remembering that nothing was working. With a heavy sigh, she lowered her hand. She would have to get used to not having access to a computer system to give her information.

"What was that? It seems as though something hit us from outside." Syndral's focus was now on what could be essentially attacking them. Did a wild animal tackle the ship, or was it something more than that? Were the possible inhabitants of this planet attacking what they deemed to be an intruding threat?

Morph listened carefully to Syndral's words, still glaring at the floor, scratching his chin with a finger in thought. This was worse than he expected. Far worse. She had no idea what had caused everything to go offline. While he had his fair share of knowledge regarding starcraft engines and the like, any input on his part he knew would be moot to the expert engineer. Something completely foreign to her had brought down their ship, deactivated their technology, and left them stranded on a mostly uncharted planet, of which they knew hardly anything of. The stinger was that their initial goal was to find out more about the place themselves, and it looked like they would be getting more up close and personal than they were originally anticipating. Or hoping. There was no telling what they would encounter once they escaped the confines of their downed transportation.

As if on cue, something jostled the ship. Morph jumped a solid foot in alarm before hitting against the wall himself. Much to his relief he avoided crushing either of the lighter-framed agents, instead landing in between their impacts. He scrambled to regain his balance, planting his feet in a widened stance once he did, hair prickling and tail lashing. "What should we do? Stay in here and hang tight, or find out what's screwing with us outside?" he asked promptly, his tone alarmed but focused. His eyes, now more dilated than before, scanned the darker corners of the hallway in watch of any debris coming their way. Only small objects had clattered by their feet, luckily.

Elim maintained his defensive stance, though he was now more focused on considering their options than searching for some tangible threat within the vessel. They had no way of knowing what was outside, and that made deciding how to react to it much more challenging. It could be a monstrous creature out there trying to force its way through the ship's hard exterior, like a predator breaking the shell of a tortoise to get at the meat inside. It could be an army of this planet's natives armed and ready to strike the moment they stepped foot out of the relative safety of the ship. Was the lurching of the ship meant to draw them out into an ambush? Or was something trying to force its way inside, trapping them with it in this confined area?

If they stayed inside, they risked becoming trapped with whatever might manage to barge in with them, though they had the advantage of darkness and knowing their surroundings. This would prove advantageous if any of the natives tried coming in. They could use their better knowledge of their ship's interior to form an ambush of their own. If they went outside, there would be no barrier between them and whatever was out there, so they could easily be attacked by any manner of creature out there the moment they opened the door. However, they would be able to identify and access the threat better if they actually looked outside and saw what they were dealing with. For all they knew, the movement of their ship could have been caused by the shifting of the earth they had crashed into. If they waited here, they could potentially be wasting precious time to get away from this area. If the natives haven't arrived yet, then it was best that they leave as soon as possible before they could be captured (or just killed outright, who knew what these natives were like).

Both staying inside and going outside had their own endless lists of possible scenarios, and neither option was devoid of danger. But which one was the most optimal? His comrades didn't seem too certain about that, either. He looked in the direction of where the ship's exit was, considering what they should do. He felt like they were running out of time. Unless they were dealing with an extremely primitive society, the natives would no doubt have seen or detected their crash in some sort of way, and were no doubt on their way to investigate, if they weren't doing so at this very moment. While the inside of the ship was safe, it wouldn't be for long if it ended up being surrounded by curious - and possibly dangerous - locals. Elim didn't want to make a decision that would end up harming his comrades in some way, but he suspected it could very well come to that if they stood around and waited for danger to come to them.

Raising a hand, all the while hiding the uncertainty he felt beneath his mask of neutrality, he gestured for his comrades to follow him. They were getting out of here.


"Oh? If that is indeed the case, I hope you are not too terribly surprised by me." While it was hardly rare for those of other species to work together - for the universe possessed so many different types of people that it was practically impossible to never have encountered an alien before - Corvonians had a bit of a... reputation. Mostly a good one, considering how friendly they were. Though that was just it. They were too friendly, and it was a well known - and not entirely incorrect in the slightest - stereotype that Corvonians could be a bit... well, just a bit too much for most people to handle. If someone hadn't met a Corvonian before, then they were usually very surprised by their first encounter with one, just by how sheerly sociable they were and how up close and personal they could be. Plagarius himself has gotten a wide variety of reactions from people, most including amusement, shock, and mild discomfort. There were, of course, those who reacted very well to him - and those who reacted very poorly - but he was concerned that perhaps his personality had proven a bit too bothersome for his dear companion to handle. He sincerely hoped not. He rather liked Vuxta, and hoped that he had made a good first impression.

The doctor nodded in agreement, saying, "Yes, I do believe it would do me good to visit your homeworld someday. When we get out of this place, it is definitely something I should do!" He said "when" and not "if". Plagarius was the type who possessed a blind sort of optimism. Indeed, he hardly seemed to acknowledge the gravity of the situation they were in at all, aside from mentioning that it would be good to have medical supplies with them. It seemed that any notion of threat or danger simply did not register to him, and if it did, he was handling it very well. It was simply in his nature to radiate such positivity. At Vuxta's mention that the Sagabi children might take an interest in him, the Corvonian tilted his beak down a certain way, his feathers ruffling ever so slightly. Had he been another species, he might have possessed a flattered blush. As it was, his black plumage hid any coloration his skin might have adopted, but his body language indicated that he was flattered, if one knew how to interpret it. His body language hardly needed interpretation, however, for his slightly timid voice gave away what he was feeling. "Oh, I don't know," he said humbly. "A giant bird-man might seem intriguing at first, but I somehow doubt I could hold their attention for long."

His feathers flattening themselves back into their original position at the more serious topic at hand, he said, "I am so very grateful, then, that the light does not usually bother you in such a way, and that we managed to meet each other after all. I've enjoyed our time together thus far - despite the circumstances - and I would hate to think that we may never have met in the first place." Tilting his head at her, he said, "I do hope you are sleeping well during the nighttime and getting the rest you need." The way he said it suggested that the doctorly side of him had taken an interest in the topic, and, as any good doctor would, was intent on making sure she was getting all the good sleep she needed.

At her mention that she glowed brightly enough to be easily spotted, he told her, "Oh good! It seems highly unlikely that we'll get separated, then."

With the medkit now in his hands - which were now gloved again, as they should be - he opened it and quickly scanned through its contents, saying as he did so, "Yes, it would be such a bother to have to make do with whatever we might find on this planet if one of us were hurt in any way." The contents of the medkit were very basic, containing gauze, antiseptics, bandages, and the like. Having quickly assessed what the medkit contained, he closed it and returned his gaze to Vuxta. "Did you manage to find anything else that might aid us?" he asked.


((OOC: I watched Finding Dory recently, and I've only just now realized how much of a Dory Plagarius is. And how much of a Hank Elim is. Elim would probably make a good Gill, too. X3))

Vuxta took a moment to consider her words. "Well, you are pretty unique, and kind of..." she trailed off to decide on a word that hopefully wouldn't sound offensive, "eccentric, I guess." Her tone sounded uncertain, although really, she was just being careful. "But not in a bad way!" She quickly added. "It's amusing actually. Personally, I think you've been a delight." She smiled.

"Definitely," she nodded. Vuxta didn't correct him and attempt to shoot down his optimism. In truth, she didn't want to. It was such a nice thing to see, and she didn't want to ruin his good mood. Granted she knew very well the severity of the situation, but she still appreciated the positive outlook. It would keep their spirits bright in this difficult situation. Vuxta took notice of his change in demeanor. The way his beak tilted down and his feathers ruffled, he almost seemed timid now, which felt like an odd assumption to make of such a social fellow. However, his tone of voice confirmed it. "Maybe, but they've never seen anyone like you before, and you won't always be around either. You could hold their attention long enough. At the very least, they'd invite you to play with them while you're able to visit."

The Sagabi nodded again. "Me, too. It's always a pleasure to work with such nice coworkers. I enjoy meeting new friends on the job. It always makes the missions easier to deal with, especially these more stressful ones. I don't know how well I'd be handling everything so far, without a companion to calm my nerves." Vuxta gave a sideways glance to nothing in particular. "Well, normally, I get enough, but sometimes I still have trouble sleeping. I just have trouble feeling tired at night and falling asleep at a reasonable hour. Even when I try, sometimes I just can't sleep, or I only get a couple of hours before daylight comes." She shook her head gently. "Some habits are just really hard to break."

Vuxta looked back at him with a smile. "Yes, I really doubt we will. Besides, I'm a great navigator, especially at night. I could find you pretty easily. I doubt I'd miss your voice even without my good hearing," she chuckled lightly.

She watched as he opened the med kit and checked through it. "Well, at least now we won't have to worry about that. We'll be prepared if one of us ever gets hurt." Considering his question, she reminded herself of what she had found. "There was a crate of camping equipment and the like. If we're unable to find a usable shelter, we could always set up a tent to use." Although she really didn't like the idea of possibly having to sleep on the ground if it came to that.



While it might not have been apparent in her demeanor or behavior, Syndral was rather anxious regarding the situation at hand. There was an unknown threat outside the ship at this very moment, and she had no functional technology to defend herself with. She couldn't even scan the area to get an idea for what it might be, or send a bugbot out to scout the area. This left the Zvarranik feeling quite vulnerable. All of her usual approaches to such a dilemma involved using technology in some way. Her first instinct was to gather as much information as possible on this threat in order to form an optimal strategy against it.

Syndral's strategies were never impulsive plans with high risk to them. She liked having every risk and possible scenario accounted for, preferring to be several steps ahead of her opponent. Her approach to battle was like that of a chess game, with every piece falling into place, just as she planned. Syndral didn't like surprises, or being unprepared. She heavily relied on her technology for everything, not just offensive and defensive strategies, but also providing a list of weakness and keeping track of possible outcomes. It was a comfort to have everything at her disposal, and she didn't know how to make due without it.

The Zvarranik did have combat training, but mostly basic maneuvers that she wasn't too confident in. It wasn't something she practiced in the field very often, usually only saving it to use in a tough spot. She would stay up to date on her training, just in case, but she preferred not to fight if she didn't have to. Syndral would much rather rely on her technology first, but that option was gone now. She would now have to fight, or settle for being the helpless teammate who needs to be protected. She quickly unsheathed one of her knives. She refused to be a burden to her fellow agents. She would fight if she had to.

Syndral's horns detected movement, and she identified it as Elim moving his hand again. He had raised it and signaled something. Realizing he meant for them to follow, she gave a nod. "If you have a plan, then I will follow you." That brought a sense of relief. If the Targibbon had an idea, then she would trust his judgement. At least she had allies she could rely on.



ooc: I see it. xD And maybe we'll get some Plagarius/Elim moments like with Dory/Hank whenever the two teams finally meet up. x3 I'm just waiting for that to happen, because it's going to be so fun. x3

Like his comrades, Morph's mind was racing with thoughts. Unlike his comrades, they consisted of detailed profiles of hypothetical adversaries, and the correct method of offense and defense they would need to enact, rather than outcomes to certain choices. If it was a creature that had moved the ship, how big was it? Was it a harmless passerby that simply nudged it out of curiosity, or a hungry predator? Did it rely on brute force, speed, claws and teeth, or corrosive fluids? A combination? Was it intelligent enough to detect patterns in attack methods, or easy to outsmart? Where were its weak spots? Most importantly, would they even be able to take it down if they were cornered? Would they be able to run from it at all? What if the natives were attacking them? That was even harder to gauge. They didn't even know how far in their development they were. Were the natives themselves attacking in droves, or were they sending projectiles at them? Who knew? So far the ship only shifted once, so it was possible that there was no threat. Or at least, not at the moment. There was no way to judge the best course of action without any knowledge of what lay outside. They would have to improvise. And improvisation seemed to be what Elim was planning to do.

"Right." Without hesitating, Morph swiveled around in search of the crowbar, snatching it with his free hand once he located it. He promptly followed suit behind the two, completely focused on Elim in preparation for more instructions.

Simply blinking once in response to them, he raised his glowstick before leading the way towards the ship's exit. As they made their way through the illuminated darkness of the corridors, Elim thought to himself all the while. Syndral and Morph had both readily followed him without any sort of question or concern. They trusted him, it seemed like, but he wasn't completely convinced that they should. He meant well for all of them, but he was by no means perfect. None of them could predict what was outside with any sort of certainty, and he could only guess as to what the best course of action was. For all he knew, he could be leading his comrades right into the jaws of a horrendous monster, or worse, into the hands of whatever natives lived here. He never wanted to do anything that would bring harm to his fellows, least of all put them in danger because of his mistakes. He was by no means infallible, yet these two seemingly trusted him without a second thought.

Which made his determination to keep them safe even stronger than before.

When they finally reached the door, another tremor shook the ship, though not as severe as before. Elim had to brace one hand on the wall to keep his balance, but was otherwise unaffected. Turning to make sure his comrades were similarly unharmed, he blinked to himself before straightening himself out again. Looking to Syndral, he handed her his glowstick before pointing to her, then pointing to the ground beneath her feet. Stay here. Turning to address Morph now, he motioned to the doors, but also made another gesture. He held up his hands, his palms positioned vertically and horizontal to each other, measuring a space with them that was barely wider than Elim himself. He was telling Morph to open the doors, but only just enough to where the Targibbon could slip through. Just because they needed to see what was out there didn't mean they all had to risk their safety. If things turned ugly out there, hopefully whatever was out there wouldn't be able to squeeze itself through such a narrow opening of the door, if it even spotted the door at all.


Plagarius tilted his head at Vuxta's momentary pause. When she finally did make her choice of words, however, the birdman just trilled hysterically. When he was finally able to get his laughter under control enough to speak, he said, "Ah, that wouldn't be the first time I've heard that before!" It was obvious by his amusement that she need not have worried about offending or upsetting him. Twittering a bit, he said good-naturedly, "But thank you. And may I say, I feel the same way. It has been good working with you thus far." True, they hadn't known each other long before crashing on this planet, but the Corvonian didn't need half as much of that time to determine whether he'd happened upon someone he liked.

Calming down from his earlier amusement, Plagarius's eyes possessed a warmth that suggested a smile of sorts - as close to a smile as one without lips can get. "That sounds wonderful. I confess, if there's one thing I truly enjoy, it is running about with children." His pupils, which had enlarged ever so slightly at his bashfulness, were now considerably larger, as they tended to get when the subject of children was brought up. It was somewhat synonymous to a wistful, dreamy smile. Continuing on in a voice that clearly conveyed what Vuxta might not be able to interpret from his eyes alone, he said, "It is always so nice to spend time with them, if but for a moment. And just watching them run and play is..." He sighed. "Well, I cannot think of anything better."

"I could not agree more!" he went on. "To be able to travel to new places and meet so many people along the way is... wonderful. I could not have asked for a better choice of career." Considering Vuxta's words for a moment, he trilled in laughter, saying, "Well, I imagine you would do far better than I! Goodness, I can barely stand the thought of having been trapped in the dark ship, all alone, let alone having to actually endure it...." He stared off into the distance for a moment, as if considering what would have happened to him had he been trapped by himself in the dark. Would he have gone mad...? At his companion's next words, he snapped himself out of it, his doctorly interest piqued and overriding any sense of foreboding he felt in favor of hearing out what Vuxta had to say about her sleep patterns. He nodded every so often as she spoke, completely focused on the matter at hand, his eyes far more raptor-like than before as he listened intently. Finally speaking up, he said, "Well, under normal circumstances, perhaps I would prescribe something to aid you in your sleep. However," he paused, taking a moment to glance at their surroundings before continuing, "I do not believe we have the luxury of any sort of medical aid, given our current situation. Perhaps when we return home, I can be of more help to you."

Without any further need of him, the doctor side of him seemed to retreat back into the recesses of Plagarius's mind, whereas the more sociable creature reemerged. "That is most fortunate," he said. Twittering a bit, he said, "Yes, I doubt you would miss it if I happened to squawk or the like. I really do hate being driven to squawk - it's so uncalled for - but being alone in the dark tends to do that to me."

"Yes," he agreed. "Though you may have to stop me if I get too concerned over the slightest of scrapes. As a doctor, I feel the need to see to whatever injury presents itself - big or small - but we may not necessarily have that luxury here, having to conserve our resources for an unknown period of time." Ruffling his feathers a bit before settling them back into place, he finished, "What I am saying is - if I happen to get too flustered over a simple scrape or bruise, do talk some sense into me and tell me we have bigger things to worry about." With that out of the way, he considered her last statement, and said, "A tent definitely sounds like a valuable asset, though a bit cumbersome." Plagarius didn't claim to know much about camping equipment, but he figured that it would most definitely be more difficult to carry around than the little medkit he now held.


((OOC: Oh my gosh, I need to have some Plagarius/Elim moments. And I need someone to say, at some point in this roleplay, "SUCK IT, BIPEDS!" ))

The small tremor didn't affect Morph as badly, as his center of gravity was much lower than that of his two comrades, but it prompted him to widen his stance and outstretch his arms. He glanced at the floor, instinctively wanting to drop down on all fours, but refocused his attention on Elim as he attempted to wordlessly give out instructions. It took him a mere few seconds to register and understand what the Targibbon wanted him to do. He nodded, pulling the glow stick out of his hand and holding it horizontally with his teeth, and hastily shoved the crowbar into the crack of the doors.

This set required much more strenuous work on Morph's part, as they were larger and more fortified on account of it being part of the ship's hull. Despite the adrenaline from the situation adding to his strength, they refused to even budge. He tried forcing his weight on the crowbar, backing up and pushing it in bursts, and then pulling it towards him. Soon after he tried the most latter, the crowbar slipped free and caused him to fall on his back, the impact knocking the wind out of him and dislodging the glow stick from his teeth.

He wheezed and swore something unintelligible, immediately scrambling back up and attacking the doors again, disregarding the glow stick and leaving it on the floor. Again, they didn't move in the slightest. He quickly overheated and withdrew, doubling over and huffing heavily. "****ing hell..." he hissed angrily between breaths. "I... can't get... the damn thing open... W-- ... Wait a minute, I... I'll get them, hold on--" Determined to not be bested by a pair of doors, he pushed at the lodged crowbar once more.

At last, they finally gave in, if only by a few centimeters. Only, the light from outside still couldn't shine through. The exit consisted of three sections: two sets of doors on each side, and a middle set that sealed in air and fortified against the vacuum of space. Using the crowbar to pry them open would definitely be pointless, but thankfully they could be unlocked manually from the inside once the internal doors were opened. Morph finally opened them wide enough to unlock the middle set-- which were thankfully far easier to push aside-- and begun work on the external set. They were just as hard to open, if not harder, and he had to pause twice before managing to pry them apart.

A sliver of daylight cut through the darkness, one barely wide enough for Elim to squeeze through. It had taken about five minutes for Morph to complete this grueling task, and he was now standing by the side, trying to recover. While he was strong, he was also small, and it was a rather remarkable feat when one considered what those doors were constructed for. Regardless, he was very winded and sore, and he would need a lot of time before tackling another issue of the same caliber.


OOC: Yeah, but everyone is at least primarily bipedal, so how is that going to happen?
EDIT: I decided to move things along so stuff can finally happen.

reserved

When it was clear that Morph had understood his mute instructions, Elim simply placed his hands on his hips. As Morph visibly struggled, he did nothing, nor made any expression at all. In fact, his eyes were hardly trained on the Kwuerk at all. They instead scanned the darkness of the ship intently. They would occasionally land on Syndral, who was being silent, and also Morph any time he made a particularly loud noise of distress. As he watched, and waited, he would sometimes lift his arms slightly, but then seemed to change his mind mid-motion, settling them back on his hips.

The moment Morph seemed to get his full attention was when he got the outer doors open. Only instead of looking towards the doors, the Targibbon immediately closed his eyes and turned his head away, a single hand suspended in the air between himself and the door. He stayed like this for some time, before finally daring to blink his eyes open. He blinked repeatedly, still refusing to look outside. Eventually, he lowered his hand. Not long after, he finally faced the door, still blinking repeatedly. When the blinking finally died down, he turned to look at Morph, giving him a single blink before slipping out into the daylight.

His movements were quick. His eyes scanned everything, yet lingered nowhere. A sound to his left caught his attention. It was not dissimilar to the dull clunk of something hitting metal. Elim paused, before jumping, landing on top of the ship. His landing was not exactly quiet. Boots upon metal. Elim did not appreciate that. His footsteps as he walked across the top of the ship were also not exactly quiet. Boots upon metal. Elim did not appreciate that, either. Coming to the ship's edge, he lowered himself completely flat. This was quiet. Quieter, at least. Elim still did not appreciate that. But he was at least a little less perturbed this time. Knife in hand, he peered over the edge of the ship.

Five eyes were staring back at him.

Eluemadea damn it.

He did not move. The zxicha did not move, either. Elim was not sure if that was a good or a bad thing. He was contemplating whether he should strike while it was hesitating. Until it lowered its head. Had he been Syndral, he might have blinked. He was not Syndral. So he did not. Instead, after a moment of recollecting himself, he simply watched. Observed.

Nearly height of the ship, he noted. Considerable length. Thick fur - possibly thick skin underneath. Large build - probably slow. Curved horns - capable of blunt and piercing damage. No visible claws. Likely herbivore. And---

He knocked loudly on the metallic surface of the ship.

The zxicha did not respond.

---Low intelligence, he finished.

Elim watched as it nudged its head forward, causing the ship to lurch slightly again. Flat on his belly, he was not capable of losing his balance this time. Syndral would not appreciate it jostling the ship, however. So he did not appreciate it, either. Sliding backwards, he rose to a standing position before jumping down not too far - but not too close - to the zxicha. From this new angle, he could see that the creature was pushing the ship back with its head, trying to reach some sort of yellow flower that was partially trapped underneath. They were in a field of yellow flowers.

He almost pitied this animal for its stupidity.

Walking back to the ship's entrance, he peered through the doors. He stared impassively at both Morph and Syndral for a moment, before gesturing for them to come out.


((Out of Context: I'm experimenting with my writing style when writing as Elim. Not sure how well that's going to go. ))

There was much neither Plagarius nor Elim had really seen, or rather, what they simply had not had the mind to process. The former had been too overjoyed by his freedom from the confines of the ship, and the latter had been too preoccupied in searching for whatever danger awaited them. Simply put, there were many details of their surroundings they had either missed, or deemed too inconsequential at the moment to really process.

This alien world was both strange and strangely beautiful. The purple ground was somewhat like foam or a sponge. It was firm enough to walk upon with ease, yet it did noticeably sink the moment one set foot on it, then rose again to its original position after the weight had been removed from it. Most of the "greenery" to be found there was actually blue, while flowers and other flora took on colors of all kinds. The orange sky looked something akin to pudding with whipped cream partially stirred within it. It was impossible to tell just what the different shades of orange were. Were they clouds? Was the sky always this natural swirl of oranges?

On the site of the Brotherhood crash, there is a stretch of some kind of blue forest flanking one side, about an hour's walk away. On the opposite side, there is a patch of tall hills. Over those hills, however, one can see the smoke of what is no doubt the site of the Order's crash.

On the site of the Order crash, the yak/mammoth-like creature has managed to put some dents into the side of the ship. On one side, far off into the distance, one could just vaguely make out the signs of an alien, Atomic-era city. On the opposite side, there is a patch of tall hills. Over those hills, however, one can see the smoke of what is no doubt the site of the Brotherhood's crash.

Rexar had been sitting next to a bush nearby, his skinny four arms wrapped around his legs. Watching Vuxta and Plagarius, he thought better to not get in the way in case he broke something or caused the ship to erode and implode itself. Thoughts of failure often drifted through his shy and nervous brain, thoughts like that of him being useless or worthless, being shunned or yelled at, although he hadn't always been that way. Rexar was like a living mood swing, whenever traumatic events happened to him it would send him into a random personality increasingly different from the last. The dinosaur-esque bipedal creature was once charismatic and excitable, brave and curious, adventurous and-but now he was none of that, the horrible things that had happened to him left him feeling cold, it was as if his insides had turned over and frozen in a suspended animation of sorts, but he himself wasn't cold, emotionally that is, it just felt as if the weight of the past was constantly being drop onto him like an anvil filled with black matter and that caused his quiet demeanor. He that the only reason he'd been brought along was his usefulness in crafting, his engineering ability, but he wasn't even able to to fix the ship, he lacked confidence and confidence seemed to avoid him like the plague.

"Hey um," His voice cracked as he softly spoke up, with a quick clearing of his red, thin throat he tried once more. "Hey, guys, um, were you able to find anything good?" His meek voice was barely louder than the wind, if he'd been in the universe's quietest room he still would barely be able to be heard.

Rexar rose from the purple, sponge-y ground and dusted off the back of his legs as he approached his two colleagues, "So, um, what did you find?"

-----

Gohrlon hadn't been paying a lick of attention to any of the activities or conversations that had been transpiring between the Order members, instead he had been lounging, curled up like a giant puppy on the metallic floor of the ship, his tails twitching every so often which indicated he was having a pleasant dream, and pleasant it was;

King Gohrlon! We have assemble for your royal royalness a basket of the most delicious and succulent fruit on all the isle, what's more is that you have absolutely no duties and can spend the entire day snoozing! The tiny creature that spoke was purple, long bat-like ears, long flat paws for feet, tiny paws for hands like a cats and a long thin tail ending in a spiked ball, he stood at 2"4' tall and had a large fanged grin on his face.

"Ah, my loyal subject, please, partake in the feeding of your king, I have done so much lazing about today and it has made me quite tired, do drop those juicy fruits down my gullet and into my rumbling stomach and you shall be rewarded with another day of living and basking in the glory of your fearless king.

Just as the creature was about to hop onto the throne to do as his king suggested, there was a loud banging at the large golden and red doors that led into the King's chambers.

"I did not order to be interrupted! My shiatsu massage is not until after my big boy nap!

More and more pounding at the door, as if someone was taking a battering ram to it, and as the door flung open---

---Gohrlon woke up from his exquisite and reoccurring dream to find that something was indeed ramming something, but it was his beautiful and expensive doors of gold and ruby, but the ship.

"So who in the hell ordered the delivery, answer the door already....Hmm, hey what did I miss?"

OOC: This originally was a character only intended for the main RP. But upon realizing how well their area of expertise suits this setting, and how there's an imbalance in members for each faction, I would be remiss if I didn't try to include them.


Name: Beeboh Zeeblbreex
Age: 351 Earth Years (adult)
Gender: Hermaphrodite; goes by any pronoun
Species: Veegafloora; a species of complex, sentient, creature-like plants. They obtain energy from photosynthesis alone, only ingesting water and loose, nutrient-rich material (ie: dirt) for minerals. Their base color is some variation of brown, orange, or red, and the skin most commonly exposed to light will typically remain green due to the activation of chloroplasts. Color change is always involuntary; when under direct sunlight, the skin in contact will change green, and when experiencing a strong fight-or-flight response, the whole body will change to the base color. They've been allied with the Brotherhood a little over 1000 years, and are valued for their intelligence and ability to work endlessly and tirelessly (they don't sleep). Hypothetically immortal as they don't die of old age, but have an unusually high mortality rate due to the fragility of their bodies. Very susceptible to diseases, foreign contaminants, radiation, fire, and blunt force trauma and open wounds (cuts and bruises). Newborn Veegafloora only take up to two weeks to fully mature, and individuals can impregnate one another or even themselves. They're composed of a high amount of copper, and are immune to the dangerous of electricity, allowing it to flow through their bodies freely.
Faction: Brotherhood of Worlds
Personality: Curious and hard-working, they pour all their energy into their work, whether regarding the mission itself or the people they're working alongside. They're very polite and affable to fellow coworkers, and frequently expresses interest in taking the time to develop relationships further. Passionate and a little eccentric, they often come across as clueless and naive about the intentions of people despite their age. Proficiently book smart, yet alarmingly lacking in street smarts. Despite their generally chipper disposition, they're quite easy to frighten, and they frequently fall into bouts of extreme anxiety, especially if they felt as though they did something wrong. Sudden changes in routine and anything unexpected completely throws them off.
Appearance: Standing at 6'10, they have a slender, upright body lacking in the features common in animal species (bones, muscles, fat, etc.). They have a pair of long legs that appear digitigrade, yet possess flat feet with two uneven toes. Their long torso possesses six arms, the upper arms thin and twig-like, and the forearms thick and round. Each hand has three fingers and a thumb, which are actually modified leaves. Their head has a shape like a blunt arrowhead facing down. They have one eye, blue and purple in color, and two long ears that are also modified leaves. They have a single, blunt tooth on their upper jaw. They have a very long, whip-like tail, which is another modified leaf. They have long boots that go up to their "ankles", and a skintight purple suit that leaves their hands, head, and tail uncovered. The uncovered parts of their body are a vivid, light green, speckled with red-orange, which is their base color underneath the clothes. (Visual reference)
Other: They have a single parent, Joontoh Zeeblbreex, who's a member of the council. They keep in close, nearly constant contact. They're a xenoanthropologist, and takes great interest in the many cultures they're exposed to via the Brotherhood.

((Accepted! :3))

ooc: So sorry that this took five million years to post, and that it's kinda short and not all that great, but hey, at least it's something, right?



When Plagarius trilled in amusement, it occurred to Vuxta that she likely worried over nothing. His words only confirmed it. At this revelation, she couldn't help but chuckle at her own foolishness. Despite this, though, she was glad that he took it well. "You're welcome," she smiled. She nodded in agreement with his words. Yes, it certainly seemed that the two would work really well together.

Her eyes seemed to sparkle with happiness. "Oh, me, too. I adore children. I was actually a teacher back on my home planet for a few years before becoming an agent. Even now, part of my job is to train new recruits. Granted, they're not really children, but I kind of do tend to 'mother' them anyway," she chuckled softly.

Vuxta nodded in agreement. "Yes, it truly is a wonderful job to have." At his next words, she giggled a bit. "Well, you may be right about that. Although, at least neither one of us had to endure it alone." She hand-waved the issue of her sleep patterns with a small smile. "Oh, you don't need to worry about me, dear. I'll be just fine. It's nothing that can't wait until later. There's more important things to worry about right now."

She nodded again and giggled a bit. "Honey, with these ears, you could whisper in the middle of a storm and I'd still hear you. There isn't much that gets passed me without me knowing about it," she gave a wink.

The Sagabi nodded in understanding. "Alright, will do, you can count on me," she smiled. She hand-waved the tent issue with a giggle. "Oh, that's nothing. I'll be right back," and with that, she disappeared into the darkness of the ship with a flash. Almost as quickly as she had left did she return carrying a big backpack of camping supplies. While it certainly looked heavy and cumbersome, Vuxta appeared to be carrying it with ease. "You see? Not a problem. There's more than fat under all this fur, you know," she chuckled.

Her ears pricked at the slightest voice crack. Turning her head, she spotted Rexar approaching them. She smiled and nodded. "Yes, we found a med-kit and some camping supplies." She paused with a frown. "I also found some technological equipment, but none of it appeared to be working. I guess they're as dead as the ship. I don't know if there's anything we can do about that."



Syndral frowned at the order to stay behind. While she understood why and wasn't about to argue, she still didn't like it. She didn't have any technology to rely on, and in her perspective, she wasn't a great fighter either. There wasn't much point in her going with him, and yet she still didn't like the idea of Elim going alone. They didn't know what was waiting for them out there. What if something happened to him?

Even with the limited light from the glow-sticks, she watched Morph try to pry the doors open, at least with what little she could actually make out in this darkness. Her horns and the distressed sounds he was making were more telling of the situation than the glow-sticks were. Knowing what those doors were made for, and having a pretty good guess as to what they were made of, she was wondering if prying them open like this was even going to work. Morph sounded like he was having quite the tough time of it. Syndral thought to suggest something else, but there was no need, as he managed to successfully pry them open. She had to admit that was a rather impressive feat.

While it felt like it took a long time for Elim to check their surroundings, he soon returned unharmed and issued for his comrades to join him. Syndral did not hesitate to slip through the opening. She paused only briefly to survey her surroundings. While she would normally take more time to take in her new environment, the supposed threat was of more concern to her at the moment. So once she spotted the large, yak/mammoth-like creature, she started to approach it to get a better look.

Seeing it jostle the ship, and the dents it had no doubt caused, the Zvarranik gave a harsh hiss. She immediately reached for her utility belt to pull out-- Ah, right, nothing's working. With an irritated sigh, she lowered her hand and just glared at the creature for a moment. She wasn't sure what to even do about this thing. Although, she had to do something, this thing was damaging the ship! Syndral gave a meaningful look to Elim and gestured to the beast. Maybe he had a solution.

After the group had exited the ship, and while Vuxta had been searching its jostled insides for camping salvage, Beeboh had stepped aside to tend to their beloved communicator. The round, flat walkie-talkie-like device was the one thing that was never taken off their person, as it possessed a one-way link to the person they always fell to whenever things went sour. Bad situations that cascaded out of the black easily left the xenoanthropologist too frazzled to objectively evaluate their options. And since their go-to was impossible to reach, as was soon discovered after much tampering with the device, they were teetering on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"No-- No no no no-- Please, no, don't do this to me!" Biting their top left hand with their single tooth in anxiety, Beeboh frantically picked at the battery panel of the phone their bottom hands were cradling after triple-checking that the power switch was on. It popped upon with a click, prompting them to slide a thin, leaf-like finger in between the positive output, and then with the negative. Nothing. Not even the faintest shock tingled at their fingertip.

"No, no, no! Please, I need this! Come on, I know I charged this thing an hour ago!" That, and they had been careful to keep it from hitting anything during the terrifying attack from the Order ship and the nerve-racking plummet to the planet's surface. They knew for a fact that it wasn't internally damaged. Well... well, maybe that was still a possibility. No, that had to be a possibility. They couldn't go on without it, they'd be up a creek without a paddle. Beeboh was no engineer, that was for sure, so what did they know about the what-ifs of technology? Rexar could check it, and he'd be able to fix it, right? He may have not been able to get the ship running again, but that's far more complicated than a little communication device. They had a point, right?

When Vuxta finally exited the ship and relayed the unfortunate news that nothing was working, Beeboh quickly returned within long strides of their spindly legs. "Wait, wait-- No, that can't-- They can't be all dead, right? Th-They can't-- No, we have to be able to fix them. There has to be a solution!" Wringing the device in their hands as they blubbered on just to keep their barely tied wits about, Beeboh crammed it into the upper pair of Rexar's hands. "Please, please, please look at it! It has to be-- I-It has to be just jumbled up inside or something! Please, I need it, it can't be dead! I-- I don't know what I'd do without it! I-I-I'd-- I'd go crazy probably, heh," their single wheeze of laughter rapidly escalated into a mild fit of hyperventilation, again gnawing at their hands as their eye darted up and down from the device to the Skargoran's face repeatedly.


---


After Syndral had strode out the crack in the airlock, Morph moved to stick his head out to see what the situation was-- or he would have if a voice and footsteps from behind hadn't stolen his attention. "Wh-- Jalis, where the hell have you been all this time!" If that man had been sleeping again, like they had caught him doing every other hour during the trip, he was going to have a major fit. Heaving an agitated sigh, he grumbled, "If you somehow failed to notice that our ship's been rocking like a ****in' boat, then I don't even know what to say. Hold on--" The Kwuerk resumed his task of peering outside, pushing the second layer of the doors as far back as he could and squeezing his head through the crack of the external doors. He was only able to spot the remaining posse members as well as a large, furry mass within his peripherals.

"Looks like some sort of animal." Morph didn't have the patience to wait for further instructions, so he decided to continue his work on the doors, hissing in combined frustration and exhaustion as he fought against the outermost layer. He would have stopped when the opening was large enough for Gohrlon to pass through, but he was still more than a little perturbed at the Cloroks for separating from the group for no logical reason, thus he enacted his "punishment" of making him wait on the Kwuerk. Honestly, this guy couldn't not get on everyone's nerves, it seemed. He considered the possibility that Syndral would be too busy reprimanding Gohrlon's behavior to properly monitor Morph's, thus perhaps saving him from the fate that awaited him when-- "If--" they ever got out of there. He didn't count on that hope.

Morph didn't have the patience to pry open a space as large as himself, either, or even really the strength, considering how much physical strain he had place himself under the past few minutes. Growling in annoyance, he tried exiting once he thought he could, pushing at the outside hull with his hands. Being as bottom-heavy as he was, it wasn't very probable, but he managed to squeeze through after he sucked his gut in.

Now standing outside and under the sunlight, the disgruntled Kwuerk shook the cramps out of arms before noticing the texture of the ground under his boots. He lifted a foot and pressed it down again. A little unstable, but they would get used to it. He glanced back inside once, checking to see if Gohrlon was following before hobbling to where Syndral and Elim stood regardless of whether he did or not. Ah, now he could get a closer look at this creature. He could only make assumptions, but based on the appearance on top of its lax disposition, they weren't dealing with a major threat. Groaning a sigh, Morph trudged past the two. "I'll take care of this," he said, either completely missing or ignoring the silent attempt Syndral made to ask Elim for advice. He leaned down to grab the nearest palm-sized rock. "HEY!!" he shouted after righting himself, hitting the rock against his hand like a pitcher slapping a baseball against his mitt. He looked just as ready to land a pitch, as well. "GET OUTTA HERE! WE DON'T WANT YOU! MOVE!" It wasn't as if the creature would get a lick of understanding from words alone, but Morph intended for the loud yelling and combative stance to be enough communication.

((OOC: That's quite alright, Cynder. :3 Oh, and I don't know if we've discussed this or not, but I have the headcanon that Vuxta is the leader---or the highest ranking member---of this mission. Does that sound alright with you? :3))


At Vuxta's words and subsequent nod of agreement, the birdman made as if to tip his hat, but, upon realizing that he was not wearing a hat at this moment, he let his hand fall back to his side with an amused twitter. "Ah, forgive me. Normally I would tip my hat to you, but it would seem I am quite incapable at the moment."

Upon learning that his companion was a teacher, Plagarius seemed to light up at that. "Truly? Oh, my dear, I can scarcely think of a more wonderful profession." And he meant that. The opportunity to guide children through life, even if it was just with math or science, was something that the Corvonian would have jumped at had he been properly trained for it. He then twittered at the thought. Ah, he probably wouldn't make the best teacher. He'd probably bore the students with his incessant talking. Ah, no matter. He liked being a Brotherhood doctor just as well.

Nodding, almost bowing his head at Vuxta's words, he agreed amiably, "I think so, too." Upon her statement that neither of them had had to face the crash and subsequent darkness alone, he nodded again, saying, "For that I am most grateful." At Vuxta's gentle reminder that there were more important things to be focusing on right now, Plagarius very nearly clapped a hand over his beak, saying, "Oh, I've done it again, haven't I? You'll have to stop me many a time on this mission, no doubt." No one was even injured in the slightest and his doctor senses were going off. Restrain yourself, man, he thought to himself.

"Oh, well that is good to hear. Perhaps I won't be driven to squawk then after all, if I know you can likely hear me regardless of my volume," he said, finding himself immensely grateful for his companion's acute sense of hearing.

"Thank you. Seeing as how you've already brought me back to reality once, it shouldn't pose too much of a problem for you," said Plagarius. As Vuxta bounded into the darkness, the Taakheel tried to squint after her, but to no avail. Suppressing a sigh, he instead simply waited for his companion to return. When she did, he peered at what she was carrying---with ease, at that---with an impressed look on his face. "Well, my dear, you are certainly far stronger than I am," he told her with a twitter.

Upon hearing Rexar speak up, the Corvonian was about to answer him, but Vuxta beat him to it, which suited him just fine. Perhaps it was for the best, in the end, for it seemed his presence was required elsewhere. The Veegafloora---Beeboh, he believed was their name---was seemingly on the verge of panic due to their technology having been rendered useless. Well, who could blame them? Much of what they had depended on the use of electricity of some form, and none of that seemed to be working in the slightest. It unnerved Plagarius, even, and he wasn't even all that technologically inclined, aside from a few medical instruments.

Approaching his distressed comrade, the birdman implored, "My dear fellow, please, do try to calm down." He knew that asking someone to calm down while they were in the midst of panicking was hardly going to accomplish anything, but it seemed as though he was compelled to at least try first. When that most obviously didn't work, Plagarius closed the distance between the two of them, taking the being's upper set of hands in his own gloved ones. It was both as a comforting gesture and to hopefully get them to stop gnawing on their hands. He'd be the first to admit that he himself possessed some nervous habits that weren't exactly healthy, but that didn't mean he was about to let this continue on his watch. Squeezing the other's hands gently, he said, a comforting, dove-like coo in his voice, "Please, try to relax, my good fellow." Thinking fast for something to hopefully keep the Veegafloora's mind occupied, he asked simply, "What pronoun should I use when addressing you? It would be unseemly of me to assume." A simple question, to be sure, but Beeboh hardly seemed capable of answering anything more in depth right now.


When Syndral exited the ship, and subsequently saw both the damage and the cause of said damage, she was predictably enraged at the creature. The animal really should be grateful for their lack of technological capabilities, because he was pretty certain she'd just tried to obliterate it, if the hand reaching for her utility belt was any indication. Said animal seemed oblivious to how grateful it should be, however, for it merely stared at her before going back in pursuit of the yellow flower caught partly under the ship. Suppressing a sigh, Elim looked over to his comrade, who was gesturing meaningfully to the beast. Do something about this, was what it seemed to say. He was about to try to scare it off, but it seemed Morph beat him to it. Startled by his sudden yelling, the creature snorted once and bounded away, leaving its precious yellow flower behind.

Turning to address Morph, Elim made sure he had the man's attention before nodding his head and blinking his eyes slowly in thanks. Now hopefully Syndral could assess the damage---

Wait.

Out of his peripheral vision, in the distance, was what looked to be a small settlement of some sort. And while he doubted they were at their technological level, they were far from primitive, as well. Snapping his fingers to get his allies' attention, he pointed off into the distance where the settlement lie. A ship diagnostic may have to wait. They may very well need to get out of here now before they were spotted, if they haven't been already.

Rexar was about to replied to his comrade Vuxta and congratulate them on finding the med kit which he was certain would come in handy sometime soon, especially since the four of them were stranded on a foreign planet with no discernible way to get home, but instead he was approached by the fourth member of their group: Beeboh. He frantic shaking and panicked stuttering made Rexar anxious, he hated being put on the spot, any sort of confrontation made him tense up in fear, he was always scared of letting people down or being yelled at, but this time he wouldn't freeze up, he had to help his fellow agent. "I-I...." He made a very noticeable gulping sound before giving the item a once over. "Um...I....I'm sorry but...If I had to venture a guess, I'd say this planet is surrounded by some sort of electro-magnetic field, o-or at least some sort of equivalent of the sort, um, what I mean to say is this planets atmosphere sort of acts as like a giant EMP that cancels out any electronic...Of course that's only a guess, but it's the best one I have, I'm sorry but..." He slowly placed the device back into Beeboh's hands, the ones not being held by Plagarius, and frowned. "I just don't think there's anything I can do and um..." Rexar looked up, something had caught his attention, the sun in the sky. "O-oh....Um, Vuxta, Plagarius um, I think we better find shelter, I don't think we'll be able to survive in the night without any light, but I have no idea where we'd go, I mean I guess we could camp in the ship but I dunno, it could maybe explode at some point for all we know..."


With those words that he'd spoken ringing in his ears he thought it best to take a few considerable large steps away from the ship. "I uh," he began to twiddle his four sets of fingers. "Maybe we could like...Climb to the top of a tree and see if maybe there's somewhere we could stay? I mean maybe there's some people on this planet that would be able to help us out..."

---------

Gohrlon grumbled to himself, the fatigue he felt from his nap was driving him crazy, his eyes barely able to stay open as if being weighed down by tiny anchors. "Mrr...Fine, I'm up." After a big yawn and a dog like stretched of his body on all fours, Gohrlon made his way to the entrance of the ship of which Morph had so kindly pried open with his grubby little hands, at least Gohrlon assumed they were Grubby, weren't his people steel workers or something? He imagined that he'd have quite a lot of dirt all over his body, although Gohrlon wasn't really one to judge, he'd sleep in sinking mud if it meant a nice and peaceful nap.

"So. What's the deal, we done the mission, can we go home now?"