Betchmat the Fasion makes his way to the front counter. Wirg goes over and meets him there.
"That'll be it for today?" asks the Bolgan in his husky tenor.
"Obviously," snaps Betchmat, holding up his credit chit.
"Right, then," replies Wirg, and he accepts the chit.
"You know, my friends, I think it's time I said goodbye for the afternoon, too!" cries Weather Nose, raising his somewhat bulky form from his barstool and stretching as conspicuously as possible. "Look outside, my friends! The clouds are coming in! I'd like to get a bit of sun before it starts getting all wet again!" He stomps his way toward the front counter a bit unsteadily, calling hearty farewells to everyone he sees.
His transaction finished, Betchmat grabs his chit and hustles out as fast as his stunted legs can carry him.
"Well, how about that?" guffaws Weather Nose. "He didn't even let me say goodbye! Fasions!" His pink paunch, protruding from his traditional Bo-San vest, is still jiggling with mirth as he hands his chit to Wirg, who says nothing. Then the door jingles again. Anticipating another merry soul on which to bestow his ale-fed cheer, Weather Nose turns around...and stops short.
"Oh..." is all he says.
"Is there a problem?" asks a youthful-sounding, masculine voice in Her-Galad. The question has a clear edge. It is meant as a challenge.
Weather Nose grimaces and replies pointedly in Yangae, "If there is, I'm not the one responsible!" He puts his hands behind him but assumes a martial stance.
The newcomers, apparently not interested in the massive Alkan, dismiss him with a sneer as they file past. There are five of them, all young Hergoth males. Their dress and attitude show them to be rather less than Mul'ein's best. There is defiance in their eyes as well as a certain telltale glassiness; most likely they indulged in a bit too much tar'go tea before coming. Swaggering into the cafe, they glance around at its occupants with apparent surprise. Then they share a glance and, most likely, some silent conversation. A decision is made, and they move the two empty tables in the center of the room together and seat themselves. Then they start throwing baleful stares at the loyalists, Mon'Fargret, the other three Foldorians, and Dabid.
Adulie approaches them with a stack of menus.
"We receive you with grace and humility," she says in her melodic High Speech. "Would you prefer Her-Galad menus?"
The gang look at her as if they've seen a manifestation of Gôth his/herself.
"You have Her-Galad menus?" asks one of them.
"Absolutely!" replies Adulie musically. "How would you start your repast, with 'eager water' or 'common herb tea'?"
"Common herb tea," replies the same boy, whose mannerisms suggest he may be the leader of the group. As Adulie moves away they erupt into a chorus of low mutterings among themselves.
Soon Adulie returns with the tea. With a polite, ritualistic uttering, she begins placing the cups in front of them. But then all at once the leader of the gang grabs her arm and growls, "Why in the Flames are you talkin' priestly?"
Adulie gasps but keeps her cool. "That's the way of speech in the place where I grew up, sir!"
"What, you raised in a temple?"
"No, sir. I was raised on Yurinova!"
There are some hisses of surprise and annoyance among the gang members. Then the leader spits, "You, a Herinov? Not Hergoth, not a dark-Sarkon or a gold-skin, but still...a Herinov?" He huffs. "Then what are you doing here taking work away from the real Hergoth, anyway?" He releases her and snatches up his tea cup irritably.
Clearly stung, Adulie turns and hurries back into the kitchen.
The leader of the gang sips his tea and then eyes it thoughtfully. All at once he bangs the cup down on the table, jumps up, and whirls to face the three Foldorians sitting behind him. The other members of the gang follow suit.
"What's the matter, Yangs," he snarls in Yangae, "don't you like us?"
The three Foldorians pause, look at each other, and immediately gather themselves up to leave.
"Good, then," adds the gang leader in Yangae. Then he switches to Her-Galad and says, "Go on! Clear out o' here! Go on back to your stinking ci-vi-li-za-tion! We don't need you here!" He punctuates his last sentence with a spit in their direction as they leave. Then he turns to the loyalist couple and eyes them thoughtfully.
To the loyalist man he says in Yangae, "I can't read you. Not at all. Odd. I don't like it." Then he eyes the woman and says, "You're afraid!"
Her eyes widen in horror and she drops her fork. The utensil clatters noisily to the floor.
"You're afraid!" says the gang leader again. Then his mouth widens into a grin. "Very good! Be afraid, then! Be very afraid!"
Then his eyes move again and level on Mon'Fargret. "You're different," he says. Switching to Her-Galad, he says, "You don't like what I am, but you don't seem to mind who I am. You understand me, don't you, Foldorian? Can we be friends now?"
38 comments:
Nekshi closes her eyes in discomfort. That second glass of kifra was not a good idea, and now these young toughs only add to matters.
She was beginning to sense a pattern in the activities of the bar, but now only a dull thud of pain radiates in her skull.
Too much information, too soon, too many sensory patterns, too alien. She longs for the quiet of her spartan resting chambers.
To Zeton, Mon'fargret, Dabid she says, "My friends, I regret that I must retire, I invite you to my flat later so that we may discuss in detail all that we have learned. Zeton knows the way, perhaps we can have an evening meal together."
To Widjgleeby, "Study the contract and decide whether or not it suits your purposes. Know however that you will be of great benefit to our enterprise. Feel welcome to come with the others tonite as I have yet to discuss the history and permutations of your name which is a passing hobby of mine."
She rises bows all around and summons Granite Spear to her side.
To the Hergoth youth leader in Her-Galad, "I would have expected better manners from a Poldite. You do your race no service behaving in such a manner. I suggest you turn your aggression inwards for that seems to be a more deserving target!"
Oh, and Kevin, great artwork! I loved that picture of Kuluf! I want that framed and hung over my algae dispenser.
The leader of the Hergoth gang first eyes Nekshi with sheer disbelief and then stands to confront her.
"For someone with a head that big," he snarls, "you're awfully stupid! You're lucky I have no quarrel with you...or do you want one?"
Mon'Fargret replies in Her-Galad (dovetailing the response to Nekshi):
"You certainly know how to spice up an establishment. Your assessment of the general situation is impressive. You have a gift of insight that serves you well. If you would allow me to play my caste role, I will cover your group's first round of herb tea with my chit. You've given that woman quite a start and I have reasons to keep things on an even keel. I think you've proved your point."
He fixes the leader eyes with a direct but friendly intensity while he speaks these words.
For all to hear, "Uskua, would you be so kind bring me a common herb tea and to replace this woman's utensils?"
Nekshi nods to Mon'Fargret ignoring the Hergoth youth, "Indeed, no reason for rash actions, but I will not stand mute while innocents are being bullied."
To the youth, "Enjoy your tea in peace, Sir, but I feel you owe Adulie the waitress an apology."
[Point of cultural note: in a traditional Hergoth establishment the first round of 'eager water' (water with a hint of tangy berry juice) or 'common herb tea' (similar to chamomile tea) is complimentary. Mon'Fargret knows this [indicated by a die roll], so I'll assume the offer is to cover the gang's first round of regular drinks.]
The gang leader faces Mon'Fargret, his eyes still blazing.
"You surprise me," he says, contempt and respect battling for supremacy in his tone. "For what it's worth, I wish there were more like you. But keep your credit to yourself. We don't need anything from a Yang, even one like you."
As he says this one of the other youths looks up from the menu he has been reading, surprise in his eyes, and carefully tries to get the leader's attention.
Catching the psychic signal, the leader glances at his friend. "What?" he demands impatiently.
His friend holds up the menu apologetically, one finger pointing at something on it. "Hey, you see, give this a stare, right?" he says.
The leader snatches up the menu, looks at it dubiously, and then his eyes go wide. "They serve monacta here?" he says quietly.
Uskua, who has been leaning against the kitchen entrance with her arms crossed and mayhem in her eyes, replies, "Of course we do! It's one of Wirg's specialties!"
The members of the gang notice the Ilfroi for the first time, and they stare at her for a second or two.
"It is?" asks the leader. He bites his lip. "I see. Um...is Wirg here right now?"
"I'm Wirg," he attempts in Her-Galad. Then in Yangae he adds, "Sorry, man. I've worked hard t' learn your ways n' your food, but I don't got your language down yet!"
The leader nods. Then he bows shallowly. In Yangae he says, "I'm very sorry, Wirg. I think we're all sorry. We thought this was a different sort of place. We thought...uh..." He sits down sheepishly. "Could I have the ganci monacta, with my apologies?"
"My pleasure, man," replies Wirg. "But please don't be scarin' off my customers, right?"
"No, man," says the leader. "We really are sorry! I mean, we thought...the Yangae sign and all...I..." He sighs. He glances at Nekshi and says, "You were right. We blew it! I'm really sorry. And the Hernovei-raised woman, I..." He looks over at Mon'Fargret. "I'll even say I'm sorry to you. I know better now. I really am sorry!" He hides his face behind his hand and utters a low moan.
The other members of the gang start a sort of apology party, apologizing to almost everyone in the room. Only the loyalist couple gets left out.
Zeton watches the scene with utmost interest. Tensing up with the stress of not knowing how the Hergoth would react to Nekshi and Mon'Fargret, he slowly relaxes as he sees how the exchange plays out. As the Hergoth apologize, Zeton turns to Widjgleeby and says, "Wow, that could have been much worse."
Waiting for Mon'Fargret to return to the table, Zeton continues, "In answer to your question Mon'Fargret, I think we should take Nekshi's advice and met together at her flat to discuss all we have learned and to plan a course of action. In the meantime, I'm not sure what to do. Widjgleeby, do you have errands you need to run before we visit Nekshi and Granite Spear? Mon'Fargret, maybe you can show us your studio and some of your artwork. How does that sound?"
To the group: Nekshi smiles faintly, "My apologies, I'm afraid my physical distress cloaked my rational faculties, I shall endeavour to 'keep an even keel' in the future. I hope to see you all tonite around sunset. Don't expect a lavish banquet, I'm afraid Granite Spear has only taught me the basics of Shurian cusine."
To the Hergoth leader in a low voice in Her-Galad, "I respect the passions which burn within your race, but I cannot understand them. If you seek a constructive outlet to do 'good' by your race and planet (she glances at the loyalist couple and frowns) contact me at your leisure (she hands him her card). I believe we're having a 'party' tonite."
Before exiting she stops at Kuluf's table and bows. "Farewell, Kuluf, it was a singular honor meeting you. My Shurian friend needs aquatic submersion and I require vascular dialation so we are leaving. If your schedule permits, feel free to visit my compound this evening around sundown. I'm sure Granite would enjoy a swim partner and the river bank abounds with small, edible, invertebrates. Or so I'm led to believe."
"Aquatic submersion," echoes Kuluf to no one in particular. "Good idea. I could use some myself."
"What in flames is this?" erupts the gang leader, holding up Nekshi's card. "'Constructive outlet'? What kind of kĕl'wak is that? You mean reason with the Yangs?"
He stands, knocking over his chair.
"How do you reason with people who think they own reason?" he rails. "I mean...alright, I gather he's cool." He gestures at Mon'Fargret. Then he levels an icy glare on the loyalists. "But what about them? I still can't read him at all, which bugs me, but I can see the hate in his eyes! He thinks we're ALL lowlife, don't you? And what about her? She's SO afraid! Why?"
He starts to walk around his table toward the loyalists.
"We never offered you anything but warmth," he hisses, a tar'go-fed shimmer in his eyes. "Even though you brought us nothing but destruction! Why are you so afraid? We'll be fine to you if you're fine to us, like he is." He waves toward Mon'Fargret again. "WHY ARE YOU SO AFRAID?"
The loyalist woman really is afraid, too. If she looked so before, now she looks white with terror.
The loyalist man jumps to his feet, his hand moving toward a certain bulge in his jacket.
"It's the video," sighs Kuluf. "That's why she's afraid. Doesn't anyone else know?"
*Out of Character* Seymour bows and asks, "Since this might be our first combat, Kevin, do we roll for initiative, or is there still a way to avoid bloodshed?"
And you probably can remove this post if it interferes with your plans.
[gamemaster's reply: What do you intend to do?]
[Gamemaster override]
Info Geek said...
(Trying to avoid bloodshed if at all possible)
Zeton looks back to to Widjgleeby and says, "Looks like I spoke a bit too soon."
"Video, what is Kuluf talking about?" Zeton says to the group at the table with him. Zeton quickly looks at the holovid to see if Kuluf is referring to that.
"Mon'Fargret, Widjgleeby, Dabid, if my plan doesn't work, violence may ensue, so prepare yourselves for the worst."
Standing up in a calm and assertive manner Zeton, makes a short, sharp shout from the bottom of his diaphragm, to ensure he has everyone's attention.
And next thing he knows, Zeton is staring at the business end of a drawn pistol.
Except for the leader, the Hergoth gang shout with surprise and dive for cover. The leader stands frozen.
There is no mistaking the Noble dialect Yangae spoken by the loyalist man as he hisses, "We are leaving."
(For the record, what's on the holovid now looks to be some sort of travel-documentary program.)
Nekshi sees the commotion to her side and closes her eyes. "Stupid, stupid Hergoth," she says as she moves between Kuluf and the likely field of fire, spreading her arms horizontally to encompasses him behind her.
As she prepares to order an unusually torpid Granite Spear into action, Zeton's gruff subvocalization catches her short.
"I didn't know Lybolts bark!", she thinks. And awaits the resulting discharge of firearms.
Zeton sees he is too late to enact his hasty plan. He is concerned that any sudden move on his part will cause the Foldorian noble to shoot. Remaining where he is, Zeton says in a clear voice, first in Hergoth, "Youth, let him go." then in Yangae, "I agree, it is time for you to go. Go quickly before it gets any worse."
[Moody, I would assume that we are not all carrying our entire individual arsenals with us. What would be customary in these circumstances? Also, can I assume this isn't the movie wild west where everyone is carrying a piece or is it?]
[Also please check your e-mail. Time to dust off my character sheet (which I don't have a copy of here at work right now).]
I will say firmly and loudly in the main tongue, "I can assure you BOTH that my mere presence here will make it difficult for ANY perpetrators. I can have someone here in less than a minute and there won't be time to get away and it won't matter who you are. Are we ready to calm down now?"
If they do calm down, I will move in line with the loyalists and say, "Would you both join me for a walk together? Dabid, can you take care of things here? I will square up with you back at the shop."
Still standing, Granite Spear has visibly tensed up in the ensuing commotion, but appears to be waiting (or signaling?) to Nekshi.
[Yes, I wonder what Granite is even carrying with her. She has her natural body weapons, but would she have been carrying anything else? As I'm also at work right now, and my character sheet is at home, I don't even recall what I own... I'll remedy that tonight by printing the thing up, so I can have it with me!]
I thought I was smart saying I was carrying a concealed pistol, but it's getting the darn thing out without getting shot in the head that's the hard part.
Nekshie stands her ground and gives Granite a 'not yet' signal.
(It's quite common for Foldorians of Mon'Fargret's caste to carry some form of defensive weapon, but not openly. Also, since Granite Spear is Nekshi's bodyguard I assume she has her sidearm hidden in her cladding. I know about Nekshi's little friend. As for the other members, I'll allow some leeway in terms of what you're carrying, but Mul'ein is NOT the wild west [though some parts of Lyranell are]. People don't generally walk around packing heat any more [or less] than they do in Portland.)
(Note to Don: there is no "main tongue". The official languages of Lyranell are Her-Galad and Yangae, as those are what is spoken by most of the population. I'll assume you're speaking Yangae since that's your native language.)
The loyalist man looks over at Mon'Fargret and sneers.
"Thou sayest in less than a minute?" he says.
Then he calmly levels his pistol on the Hergoth gang leader, his finger tensing on the trigger...
[I need to start posting earlier, I'm just too tired to spell properly. The last sentence should read:]
Zeton silently hopes he has enough of the spirit of Elenick flowing through him to pull this off.
Through, not threw... I'm off to bed. :-)
[Gamemaster override]
Snabulus said...
In Yangae, "So you would rather explain to a Lady of Truth why you killed a loud mouthed kid?...
Info geek said...
Zeton isn't sure why the loyalist hasn't just killed the Hergoth youth. Is he looking for a way to save face? Is he afraid?
As Mon'Fargret speaks to the loyalist, Zeton begins to slowly walks toward the Hergoth gang leader. Zeton may be looking down the business end of the loyalist's gun, but someone needs to do something.
[/gamemaster override]
At the last possible instant, the loyalist man lowers his aim...and then pulls the trigger.
There is a blue-violet flash and a deafening *CRACK* like a nearby lightning strike. The floor directly in front of the Hergoth gang leader first emits a pulse of blinding light and then erupts like a small volcano, spitting up fire and bits of molten material. The youth is caught in the very edge of the fireball and spattered with some of the scalding material. Screaming and clawing at his face, he falls to the floor as his clothing bursts into flame.
(I need a d20 roll for Mon'Fargret, Zeton, Widjgleeby, and Nekshi.)
The loyalist man glances at Mon'Fargret and Zeton in turn. "None can deny your courage," he says, "but you talk waaaaaay too much!" With a smirk, he touches his wristband...
...and disappears in a swirl of light.
Overcome with shock, the loyalist woman clutches at her face and sobs. Then she runs to the fallen youth, pulls off her coat, and starts patting the flames out with it.
"This wasn't supposed to happen!" she cries.
The other Hergoth youths look about ready to tear her apart, but they don't interfere. Finally, however, the leader himself pushes her away.
"Don't touch me, flame you!" he screams.
The woman pauses, tears streaming down her face.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," she echoes hoarsely. Then she turns and bolts for the door.
Zeton's is barely able to control his look of surprise when the loyalist disappears. It must be some sort of teleportation device. He makes a mental note to investigate this in more detail later.
Turning to face the group, Zeton shrugs his shoulders and says, "So, are we still meeting at Nekshi's for dinner?"
Adulie goes to the gang leader with what appears to be a first aid kit. The youth protests at first, but he doesn't resist.
"I'm not a geishana," observes Adulie ruefully. Looking around, she adds, "Is anyone here a medic?"
"I've already called the constable," says Wirg. "The acolytes should be here, too."
The gang leader sucks air through his teeth. "I don't need no flamin'..." he starts, then grits his teeth and screams.
Not realizing how badly injured the gang leader was from the blast to the floor, Zeton snaps into action.
"I have some first aid training, let me help."
Zeton pulls out his first aid kit from his satchel and and begins attend to the gang leaders wounds.
(I rolled an 18)
For those at work, click here to roll dice.
Assuming he is able, Mon'Fargret bolts after the lady hoping to detain her before she leaves the crime scene. If not, he tries to chase her down and bring her back (assuming he can physically do so) and wary of her possible weaponry. If she makes it to the door before him, he will whip out the com device and phone the local police (the 911 of Impassia).
(Don, your die roll indicates Mon'Fargret was looking directly at the plasma blast when it happened, so he's currently seeing spots in front of his eyes and not much else. I think he'll stay put for the moment, though he can still do a voice command to his "wrister" to signal the authorities.)
Zeton moves to help Adulie tend to the injured youth. As he does so, the other members of the gang stare at him with wary curiosity.
"What're you about, then?" asks one of them. "You're not Hergoth!"
Zeton gives his usual vague response and adds that he has worked with Hergoth most of his life. Clearly intrigued, the youths seem to relax a bit and pepper him with more and more questions. Zeton is able to use the excuse of his being busy to avoid committing himself too much, but he does let slip that he is a sort of reporter "on assignment".
"At least you're not takin' work away from real Hergoth," moans the leader. "But if you're investigatin' something, why don't you try to find the poison?"
"Hush now," says Adulie softly. "No more pain here, just warmth."
But she's looking at Zeton with level eyes and a grim expression.
[Hope its not too late for my input - been very busy these last couple of days. Granite Spear will go after the female loyalist as well, if she is able. She will do so in a way to subdue her, if possible, and hold her until Nekshi says otherwise.]
Nekshie rolls a 2.
I'll try to identify what type of pistol that was,probably a blaster or baffler. It definitely had alot of juice behind it. I'm glad he was just trying to scare us or we might be rolling up new characters.
Nekshi will sit down and wait for the inevitable questions from the authorities while massaging her temples. She'll also look into which races use matter transportaion, and the possibility of configuring her communicator to get a general direction of the transportation beam. (It's worth a try!)
[I should add that Granite will NOT pursue her past the door. If she escapes, Granite will stop at the door, and take a defensive stance as lookout for any additional trouble approaching the Cafe & Bar.]
(Quick post from work)
(Nekshi, you looked away from the blast in time and were unaffected...as if your glare-resistant Zorlan eyes were at much risk anyway! I'll let you know what you came up with via e-mail later.)
(You do notice, however, that Lirassa is no longer at her table.)
Granite Spear made a valiant effort to pursue the fleeing loyalist woman, but a Shurian on land has little hope of catching a panic-stricken Foldorian. (Your running speed is about the same as a man on crutches.) By the time Granite Spear made it to the door the loyalist woman was already ducking into the Artists' Square crowds.
On the way she noticed that Lirassa the Besteeng had also taken off in pursuit of the loyalist woman, but she is also a lot faster than a beached Shurian.
Just outside the door a tall and very stocky, red-skinned human stops short. He was apparently about to enter the cafe, but now he stands appraising the strange, purple-and-red creature with formidable spikes (a species he's never seen before) before him.
(I'll let George say hello.)
[Note to self: not fast on land]
Granite wonders to herself why she even tried. She definitely misjudged the distance to the door, and now that she is there, a red-skinned humanoid is staring at her through the glass. Granite stands fast at the door but does not impede the new arrival from entering.
Nekshi walks over to Widjgleeby, concerned about the Farbett's silence. Once there, she realizes the poor thing is asleep, and has missed the entire exchange!
Listening to the large creature's soft snores and watching the thin trickle of drool pool on the floor, Nekshi cups her chin in her hand and wonders about the best (and safest) way to wake a Farbett.
All Mon'Fargret sees is the green-yellow afterimage of the gun blast. Cursing this show of force to himself, he becomes aware of the activity around him.
It sounds like someone is hurt and there is the usual amount of commotion. He isn't sensing death, that metallic taste of things gone even worse. This is going to change the calculus of the situation for good and not just in this eatery.
He thinks of trying to go after the loyalist woman, but he still can't see much and he senses that she is gone. Angry at himself, he thinks he should have acted more quickly, but you can't go around firing weapons when there is no war...though that could be changing.
He hails the local emergency authorities on his wrist unit requesting both medical and police presence and describing the situation as stable for the moment. He spends a few moments fixing the exact features of the loyalists in his mind so he can give an accurate description of the criminals in the bar.
For that is what they were, the man was too cowardly to remain with his companion and the woman fled the scene.
Gathering his wits finally, he announces to the vague shapes moving behind the ghostly blob of his vision, "I would like everyone present at the time of the crime to remain present until statements can be taken from everyone. Medical assistance is on the way as well. Dabid, can you please give me a hand here?"
"Of course, my lord," says Dabid with a sigh of resignation.
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