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The Accursed Island [Closed]
Planet Designation: Forcellia
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Extensive flora and fauna.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens.
Water: 69.5% of the planet's surface.
Climate: Earth-like
Landscape: Varied.
Air: Normoxic concentration.
Air Pressure: 101.3 kPa (kilopascals) = 14.7 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Blue, with variable cloud cover.
Sun: A class G2V, yellow star.
Warnings: Wildlife and plant-life can be hazardous. Humans can be hazardous.
Mission: Negotiate for or otherwise obtain the artifact known as the Scepter of Domination.
Forcellia, or at least the part of it that contained the clearing in which the group now found themselves, wasn't exactly welcoming. The ground was little more than rocky soil, the sky violet-grey and overcast. Here, it was evidently late afternoon, edging into evening. It was slightly humid, as if from a recent rain; faint clouds of steamy mist seemed to curl off the ground, partially obscuring their view of their surroundings. Scraggly trees rose up out of this mist here and there, as if grasping towards fresher air.
The villagers in the area had supposedly been contacted ahead of time, and this had been the place they’d agreed to meet the crew. Whether or not they knew anything about this supposed Scepter of Domination, however, was not yet clear. What the Scepter even did or how it might contribute to their struggle was even less clear.
In the distance, they might hear the occasional whinny of a horse, or the lowing of a cow carrying up to them from the distance, though it was difficult, if not impossible, to tell from which direction the sound was coming from.
Status: Terrestrial, H-class.
Non-sentient life: Extensive flora and fauna.
Semi-Sentient Life: Yes.
Sentient Life: Homo Sapiens.
Water: 69.5% of the planet's surface.
Climate: Earth-like
Landscape: Varied.
Air: Normoxic concentration.
Air Pressure: 101.3 kPa (kilopascals) = 14.7 psi (pounds per square inch)
Sky: Blue, with variable cloud cover.
Sun: A class G2V, yellow star.
Warnings: Wildlife and plant-life can be hazardous. Humans can be hazardous.
Mission: Negotiate for or otherwise obtain the artifact known as the Scepter of Domination.
Forcellia, or at least the part of it that contained the clearing in which the group now found themselves, wasn't exactly welcoming. The ground was little more than rocky soil, the sky violet-grey and overcast. Here, it was evidently late afternoon, edging into evening. It was slightly humid, as if from a recent rain; faint clouds of steamy mist seemed to curl off the ground, partially obscuring their view of their surroundings. Scraggly trees rose up out of this mist here and there, as if grasping towards fresher air.
The villagers in the area had supposedly been contacted ahead of time, and this had been the place they’d agreed to meet the crew. Whether or not they knew anything about this supposed Scepter of Domination, however, was not yet clear. What the Scepter even did or how it might contribute to their struggle was even less clear.
In the distance, they might hear the occasional whinny of a horse, or the lowing of a cow carrying up to them from the distance, though it was difficult, if not impossible, to tell from which direction the sound was coming from.
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"Does anyone require healing?" she asked as they came to view of the others.
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He jams Puppet into his jacket pocket and pulls up his goggles. "If we need bandages, I can rip strips off my threads."
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"We hardly need your filthy clothes. I have proper, sterile bandaging materials if required."
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He stepped up to the woman. "That would be us, miss."
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The dragon was certainly hostile, having sneaked up on their group while they were waiting for their contacts. Granted, the fact that it can talk opens a secondary measure through which they could deal with it.
Of course, their current standing with the dragon was... unfavorable. But she'd seen people talk down angrier sorts to a level where they could talk things out before, so it wasn't out of the question.
Most their attacks had little or unnoticeable effects, she won't say they had no effect considering she'd faced bigger dragons before, it's just a matter of assessing what works or how to make it work.
She made rounds around the camp to see if she was needed anywhere.
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Soren nodded curtly to Sofia in thanks, though he still regarded her with some suspicion. People who could transform into dragons were a little too close to the beings he was familiar with for comfort. Once her spell was finished, he removed his gloves gingerly and cast them aside, testing out his fingers. It seemed Sofia's abilities worked quickly, though the traces of the burns were not completely gone as of yet (protip: don't look inside the gloves).
"I would... appreciate it," Soren said to Alendian. He hated being helped by someone he didn't like, but it was, of course, probably necessary.
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Uh, she was a little keyed up.
She took one look at Ronnae, however, and drew back, still brandishing her sword. "And what are you, a... a dark elf?" Dark elves usually weren't green, though. She thought. She'd never actually seen one, only heard of them by reputation.
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He looked grimly around at the state of the sentry post. Talk about bad timing.
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"No, not a dark elf, not from this world either. I came with the group sent here, and I mean you no harm." She wasn't surprised though, just because someone was fighting the same foe, didn't mean that they were friendly, she'd learn that the hard way through the many wars back home.
"Ronnae, Ronnae 'Mash Belore Ryllos, one of the crew members of the Transmigration 9" She didn't know if they were part of the group that was supposed to meet them, but she bowed respectfully nonetheless.
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Opening up the small box, she pulled out a small cloth and unraveled it completely. Without the slightest sense of delicacy (because Soren was clearly a mon-keigh), she slapped it on Soren's hands and the bandage bonded itself to his skin, allowing it function as a kind of second skin for the time being.
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"And you're going to tell me she's not an elf, either, right?" Actually, she'd never seen armor like that before.
She put her hands on her hips, confronting Shoutarou. "What kind of birdbrain doesn't look up the world they're about to visit? Maybe you'd like us to warn you about other stuff, too! Water is wet! You should breathe air, it's good for you!"
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Ronnae bowed her heard slightly in respect, not wanting to give way or disrespect the locals.
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She looked at Alendian like she was addled or something. I mean, clearly she'd seen elves before, like... once. Just not dark elves! "Sure; pointy ears, bad attitude, skinny as a rail -- an elf. But whatever you want to call yourself, I guess."
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Punchy steps between the elves/Eldar/mystery detectives and the riders, and spreads his arms in the universally acknowledged gesture for "check it before you wreck it". He flicks up his goggles and looks at the man.
"Neese your homeboy? We could stand to kick it and recoup a little. Lead the way."
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He started his mount back down the path toward the village.