Oftentimes, when he had nothing better to do -- which, having failed to find any role on this ship that was suitable for him, was often indeed -- Maridian came up to the Obs Deck, sat on one of the squashy meat-couches, and simply stared out into the Bleed.

The space outside the ship seemed to have hypnotic, or at least comforting, qualities about it, for times like these were one of the rare times he took off his backpacks, his weapons, and even his armor. The heavy plate disguised the fact that, under all that thick metal and padding, the elf was more slender and wiry than a human in his shape would have been.

There on the couch, he held a massive sword in his lap, tending to its needs with whetstone and honing oil. His mace and his other sword lay beside him, next in line for the attention they deserved, and from there he would doubtless move on to the armor that sat nearby.

Quiet consideration of the space through which they traveled, with only the soft rasp of stone against -- well, whatever the blade was, it probably wasn't steel. A quite sort of meditation for a fairly loud and not usually sedate paladin.

It hadn’t been long since Sirius had woken from podsleep. He had gone exploring but somehow he kept coming back to hydroponics. It was so different from the rest of the ship. He’d heard that the entire ship was alive but it felt smothering, not like it was here where everything was vibrant and colorful. Here he felt truly free.

Sirius sat against a tree. His legs ached. He had spent too long in Azkaban (although apparently not as long as he should have). His muscles had not withered completely but he was still weak. For now it was enough to rest here and gaze at his surroundings, so unlike the cell he’d left behind.

Finding Aibghalien was never too difficult, if one simply set about the task.

Most of the time, he was doing Department business, either in his office in the Jedi Temple, which he used for research, study, and paperwork; or in the Tower of High Sorcery, where he spent a great deal of time in more practical matters.

For the most part, he had abandoned the use of his private laboratory except for certain private researches and experiments that he spoke to very people about. Instead, he encouraged people to seek him out at his more common and public haunts... and recently he had indeed been encouraging that. He'd made no secret of his intentions to propose a departmental restructuring... nor of his desire to hear feedback and input on the problem.

So if you wanted to speak to the wizard in his role as Loyal Crewmember, that was easy.

On the other hand... if one were to keep their eyes skyward in the City, eventually they would spot a blue-marked dragon swooping overheard, taking his relaxation where he found it. If one was so inclined, catching his attention was easy enough... and perhaps you might even get a word or two out of him that wasn't directly related to magic or the department, if you tried.

Dungeon Keeper has officially ended! Backtagging, however, is still perfectly acceptable; continue on Dreamwidth, if you would like to play out to the conclusion!

Though no groups actually made it, enough were on their way that I have no shame in declaring the characters victorious. Here, then, at the bottom of the maze, is what they found:

Spiders.

Specifically, five massive spiders (like, van-sized), sentient and sapient, but the last of their kind on that charred world. The 'civilized' races of the underground had mostly killed their kind, and only in the protection of their spider-god did these last ones survive. Through its intercession, the characters were guided to save these creatures. In exchange for passage on Stacy, the spiders agreed to weave their silk into cloth for the ship's use.

Meatship, you have clothing now, if you just spend the time to make the silk into actual garments. This isn't unlimited; a lot of the spider's output will go to trade and barter for ship supplies, but there's certainly enough for the crew to live comfortably, rather than frugally, at least as far as wardrobes go.

On that note, we need four or five people who are willing to play the spiders, and a character or three who's willing to interact with and tend to them. You see, the spiders all have their own personalities and interests... very self-serving interests. The ship doesn't want them fighting, for example, and it definitely absolutely does not want them mating. As these creatures will be long-term residents of Stacy, then, if anyone would wish to take on the role of playing one of them, please volunteer!

In-character, the Council will appoint people to watch out for them, but if you want your character to have a role, just sign up here and we'll suborn the IC process for OOC satisfaction!

(Also, someone might want to pick up Rarity, she may have just swooned in delight.)

It is very seldom that on the ship called Stacy, that Mark Allan appeared nervous even apprehensive. But today was different. Contrary to what a certain webslinger might think, he wasn't stupid. It didn't take Mark long to figure out that Peter was Spider-Man, particularly after the younger boy had pinned him to the ground effortlessly which had been a big clue. Even so... Starfire likely had no idea why he had hit Peter, considering Mark was not completely sure why he did it. He knew it wouldn't help Liz even if she was saved by Stacy.

Mark doubted either wanted to talk with him. He still didn't really trust Peter, but there might be a day when he might need him and as for Starfire? She didn't really know Mark that well, and it probably set in her eyes a bad sign. So he waited to see if they actually would show up.q

Zouichi stood waiting by the entrance of a cavern of some sort, one of the newly discovered areas on the ship. His presence there was unobtrusive and therefore easy to miss. In fact, one might have thought he was simply finishing a patrol or exploring; he certainly did enough of both under ordinary circumstances. But not quite. Not today.

Today he was clad in his customary black armor, but he was also carrying a small package tucked under one arm. And upon closer inspection, he looked... well, a little embarrassed.