(Session 1 - Dec 2nd, 2017) Ship Shape and Bristol in Ruins

[Sgt 86Delta]

What: Item Retrieval
When: December 2nd, 2017 (First Saturday of Each Month)
Where: Roll20 (No Purchase Necessary)
Who: Knights of Vauxhall Cross - 1st Recon Squad

Knight Commander Buxley approaches the newly commisioned 1st Recon Squad, "We have recently learned of an artifact stowed aboard a ship wreck amongst the ruins of Ol' Bristol. The reason we know that it is there, is because of the rift that has recently opened. The porters and ferriers from Avonsmouth have reported a new light shining in the dark cold water of the Bristol Isles."

Taking a long pull on a pipe that some how, just appears, "Your assignment is to find this rift, locate the artifact that permitted the rift to open, and then proceed to seal said rift."

In his departure he says over his shoulder, "You may need to reclaim the wreck of the SS Great Britian before doing any of that. Your transport leaves in 20."

Heading through the solid oak door which closes quietly behind him, the Knight Commander is gone into the dusk of early evening.

[Sgt 86Delta]

The White Stag Tavern (WST) is a comfortable and descent sized location situated on the western side of Bath in and near the Avon Waterway Locks. The Locks District is generally populated with river craft, several docks in secure harbors, and warehouses for securing freight awaiting means of delivery elsewhere.

This particular evening, as the current four members of 1st Recon have gathered after their furloughs, has been abnormally cold and wet. A front seems to have blown eastwardly from the Channel and has not only darkened the sky but seems intent on washing away the past few years worth of grime. It is was mean storm, that is for sure.

As the four (Seelia, Brigid, Seamus, and Peace) of you sit around your large table (two regular tables pushed together length side to length side) discussions flow to brief vacation activities.

[Icosa]

"And THAT," brayed Seelia with a laugh, "is when I jumped out!"

She brandished her mug of ale...which was actually just a thimble with a tiny handle soldered onto the side...and took a deep swig before going on, still giggling.

"That old cat jumped about as high as one of YOUR heads, and whirled around with hair all risen up and eyes burning bright as rifts to Hell, claws out, teeth bared..." She dropped her voice to a 'spookier' register. "And I drew my sword and I said to that mangy tom, 'By grace of Sidhe and boggart's craft, by redcap scream and pixie laugh...in the name of the Queen, and the Summer Throne, thus does SEELIA NISHNOCKET bid ye...GET GONE!"

She pantomimed swinging her hand around while prancing about on the table top, to illustrate the brandishing. Despite the drink, she was quite capable of dodging around the bottles and bowls atop the table, making a sort of obstacle course.

"The Mad Grey LUNGED at me, those pitted ears tucked back again' his furry skull and moving like a thunderbolt...but I, SEELIA NISHNOCKET, was faster still! I swiped that cur across the nose and sent him reeling off to one side!"

The pixie laughed again, then discovered her ale was empty. Her iridescent wings blurred, and she buzzed up to the rim of the large pitcher in the center of the table to dip her thimble in again.

"Just like that, all the fight was gone from the brute! Quick as you please he was running off into the alley and GONE. Never to darken the lawn of Goodwoman Brown again, lest he bring the fearsome wrath of SEELIA NISHNOCKET! A thing even a stupid, grimy old CAT has the sense to avoid at all costs!"

She settled back and planted her fists on her hips, striking a triumphant pose.

"And that is what I did on my furry low. A widow will sleep soundly tonight, free of yowling...and her poor bullied dog will know he is safe at last!"

Compared to most knights, Seelia's tales of gallantry tended to involve more cats than usual. But then again, most knights were too big for cats to waste any time on. As a pixie, Seelia was definitely not. It wasn't as if a normal cat was any threat to her...the others in the unit had seen laser fire stopped by the mithril threads of her mail, and that damn sword of her could punch through just about anything.

She just liked protecting the world from cats in her off time, it seemed. She didn't really have an 'off' switch where she could take a break from trying to be a hero...so battling ferocious felines was as close to a vacation as she got.

Fairies could be weird sometimes.

[hobo joe]

Peace listens to all of the conversations going on around the table. The tone is typical of any mess hall talk, typical of any group that's worked in the field together, likely. It's chummy, boisterous and rowdy. The content however is extremely bizarre. He still cannot fathom that he is sitting here at the table with a pixie. She is the most outrageous and unnerving of his new companions.

The half giant, well, Peace has worked with Zentraedi and the Karbaron bear men, so this fellow isn't too hard to take in. His eloquence and intelligence were surprising at first, but his conversations with Peace have always been informative. It would not be a stretch to say the young man was erudite. The woman, Birgid, seems to be normal at first. She has "powers" of a sort, somewhere between a Perytonian and a Garudan. Strange, but again, easily digestible mentally based on experience. It's a fact that so far human science has not been able to figure out how those strange powers work. Before arriving here, this strange version of Earth, he always shied away from calling it magic. Seeing what happens on this world, his temerity that magic isn't real has completely dissipated.

Magic and monsters. Sounds like the whole world was some giant genesis pit gone haywire.

"Seelia, it still strikes me as unbelievable that you can keep your self airborne with a high degree of seemingly effortless agility. Your wings cannot be the only method of generating lift, especially given that for a creature your size the beats per second would have to be so unbelievably high that the noise would rival a Beta on full burn in a closed hangar. Is there some kind of other biological organ that generates lift? I saw a balloon creature on my way back from Optera that used an internal bladder filled with hydrogen produced by an internal gland, it also had a methane based expulsion system to provide precise maneuvers through the gas giants atmosphere. Of course when we accidentally shot one, it exploded quite dramatically. We had to officially sanction one Marine who seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of glee in destroying the innocent harmless beasts. Those damn Invid just popped them for fun. That was an interesting operational environment. "

He pauses just long enough to take a drink of his beer. Looking a little past the other Knights, he keeps on talking, regardless of an audience. "Yes, that was definitely an interesting an unique drop. Given the fact that it was a large gas giant, we were never going to actually make landfall. The Invid had a base there, and that is naturally why we were there too. There is not telling what sort of nefarious and twisted things the Invid scientists were doing on a gas giant. Clearly it was not a suitable location for the flower of life, which as I'm sure you all recall, is the basis for producing protoculture. It is a wonderful energy source, but the cost of it has been far beyond what humanity ever envisioned. So, we dropped on this planet, but we had to dig up some old VR-oh-two-ones, the space cyclones, to use in the atmosphere. We considered reactivating some of the VR-oh-one-fife Spiders, with their build in hover capabilities, but it was determined that the atmospheric pressure was better handled by the CVR-two space combat armor." he takes another sip and then wraps up this wonderful story, "The Invid were up to no good. When we finally located the hive we discovered that they were developing a poison gas that would be even more effective than the current foul vapor the Scrim. Not only did was it a powerful nerve agent, but it had in addition, a persistent corrosive effect that could eat through ceramic plate in less than a minute. The method of it's creation was as horrible as any Invid alchemy and utilized several species from the gas giant's biosphere. Naturally, we blew it up."

"I'm off to the 'fresher, if the young woman comes back, I'll have another of those local brews."

[Sgt 86Delta]

(Please Continue Posting.)

Wrap up from last night.

Items from Captain John Gray's quarters:

• Navigation Charts
• Binding Stone (Secured at Avonsmouth)
• Captain's Coat (Buried with the Captain)
• Cameo Locket of Mrs. Gray (Buried with the Captain)
• 2nd Mate John Gray Family Photo
• Newspaper Clipping (Wichita Earl Gray)
• Family Bible (Wichita Earl Gray)
• Bottle of very old Port

The items from the Captain's Quarters remaining are considered the "loot" from this session. Please feel free to use these items in your RP posts and let me know if you lay claim to anything specific.

The return from the grave site of Mary Ann and John Gray, sees the team return to the port of Avonsmouth. The sept leaders awaiting the teams return, strike up a discussion in regards to the binding stone.

"Due to the nature, definetly Norse, of the binding stone, we would ask that you leave it here at Avonsmouth where we might secure it. Some of the Drui here would be very interested in studying the ancient language and markings written upon it. We would be willing to make a trade for it, not something immediately available but something that could be available in a few months. What do you say?"

[MJH]

OOC Comments

I took quite a bit of creative license here and accounted for most of the items. If anybody else had ideas, I am more than willing to edit.

Earl leaned back in his chair and sipped his scotch whiskey, grateful to finally be done with the debriefs. One thing he would say about the Brits, they sure did get the pub concept right. He could even get used to scotch, bourbon would always be better of course, but this stuff wasn’t half bad.

He could also get used to the Knights. It sure beat drifting from town to town always looking over your shoulder for either the next wannabe trying to make a name or the Coalition finally settling the score. Based on recent events, it seemed it was almost meant to be. And they helped fish Eleanor out of the channel. He owed them at least for that.

The brim of his hat hid his grimace. The experience with the Sea Witch still spooked him. Although psychic, years of indoctrination by the Coalition made accepting any type of magic difficult and that which was truly evil terrifying, especially after what he had seen in the war. He hoped he could come to fully trust Seelia and Bridgid, they had saved him, but training dies hard and some past actions you can never make up for. Still, according to the Family Bible they found on the ship, he was linked to this land and to the ancient magic and history it contained. Earl absently brushed the compartment in his armor that the newspaper clipping. He probably ought to store it in one of Eleanor’s environmental compartments, but he wanted to hold onto them a little while. He was thankful Peace allowed him, to scan the contents of the Family Bible into Eleanor’s databanks. He didn’t need the book, but he did want to hold onto the information it contained along with a digital image of the photo, helped him feel more connected to something than he had ever felt before.

From what he could discern, his lineage had been selected as part of the Royal Society’s infatuation with trying to breed psychics and those inclined towards magical ability. As with most of the Society’s experiments, it did not have the intended results—at least not until after the cataclysm. Turns out, there may have been some truth to it. Enough truth that some tentacled monstrosity from who knows where thought it would be good to capitalize on it to power some undead army. For the Royal Society, it just happened that the development wasn’t soon enough to save them. Based on what he had heard they were doing, he wasn’t entirely sad about it, either.

Well Earl, sitting over here getting drunk in the corner isn’t going to get you trusted by your new team, is it?

Earl sighed, stood up and walked over to the table with the rest of the group.

“Porton Down”

The rest of the team stopped and looked at him like the outsider that he was.

“I am sorry, what?”

“Porton Down. It’s why I am now part of your team. You see I mentioned in the debriefs and it got some raised eyebrows, which is about the extent of you Brits showing any kind of interest in anything.

“You see Porton Down is what the Coalition thinks allows you to survive over here across the pond with the proximity of the Splugorth and ‘evil magic’. The Coalition cannot fathom that supernatural creatures, humans, and practioners of magic can sustain a community like you have here in Bath. Therefore, like themselves, they believe that the only way humanity can survive in this world is due to pre-rifts military technology. Technology they think must come from Porton Down, a known pre-rifts military research facility with a history of questionable research practices and projects with a skewed view on how it benefits humankind.”

Earl drained the rest of the scotch and wished the bartender had fatter fingers.

“When I mentioned this to Knight Lord Higgins, I got the aforementioned raised eyebrows and a pause in the relentless questioning. That tells me it has something to do with why I was kept around and made part of the team and not just sent on my way to fend for myself. That and he probably thinks an ex-Coalition Ranger has valuable intel on what is happening in North America. Regardless, given Porton Down’s proximity to Wiltshire, any pre-rifts tech has been overlooked and remains undiscovered. Whether the Knights choose to investigate remains to be seen, but my continued presence leads me to believe it may be under consideration.

“For now though, I also wanted to express my gratitude on the timely rescue. If I may join you, the next round is on me.”

Earl produced a set of tumblers and the old bottle of port. “Shall we?”

[hobo joe]

Peace snags the charts and gives the a good, well, asreasonably good as one can in a pub with quality beer. He half listens to Earl’s rambling. Despite his own penchant for extreme exposition, he finds this man’s tale a little in the dull side. However his interest is piqued by the pre Rifts history and secret technology stores. Plus, he is only alslowly getting an idea of the CS’ extremist views.

So he muses outloud in several topics. Timelines for starters: “It is so very interesting that the Earth suffered great caclysm in this reality or dimension as well as my own reality. What are the odds? Is a devastated Earth an inevitability? One must wonder at the similar level of technological development when said cataclysm occurred. Now, I presume that the flower of life would grow just as well on this Earth as on my own. Of course, my direct experience of Earth is here. I was born on Mars and spent most of my adult life in space, transiting from one alien world to another. Space folding might somehow be the technological equivalent of one of these Rifts.”

Second subject: lost technology, with a segue from timelines: “Yes, yes, parallel development, I wonder where the point of divergence is? Clearly the unfortunately named Alien Space Ship did not celrash here in the early 21st century. If that is the point of divergence, what technological advances were made without access to Robotechnology? This lost technological storehouse, why that would indeed be a fascinating study. Of course, with no protoculture factories available, I will have to convert much of my equipment to local power sources.”

And finally, topic number three, and the Knights probably know to expect this one: defense against the impending Invid Invasion: “So all this talk about technology and science should all be I support of the big question, that is, how do we stop the Invid from inflicting a second great apocalyptic event? I am not fully aware of the mores of this Cialition State, but they sound like a potential ally against the Invid. Is there a representative locally? Ah, yes, probably not. It still is disorienting for rapid global transit to be a rare event. Still, the more world powers that are aware of this threat the better.”

Peace stands up suddenly, cutting himself off from further monologue. “Oh my! I think I left the protoculture cell still powered up on my Cyclone! I will be right back. And if the young lady returns, please have her supply me with another pint of that delicious local brew.”

He is somewhat more loquacious after six or seven pints of the strong local brew he seems to enjoy so much.

The power cell was shut down. Peace is a bit paranoid.

[Sgt 86Delta]

Knight Commander Buxley makes what you all call "his normal entrance", meaning that he appears from no where. "When you are appropriately inebriated head to the Eternal City compound. There are matters to be discussed."

Having delivered the message, he turns and steps back through the doorway and makes "his normal exit" meaning he just disappears from sight.

[Radecliffe]

Seamus salutes the disappearing backside of the illustrious commander with his tankard of ale which is as large as Seelia's is small. "Appropriately inebriated? Aye sir, but that may take a wee bit o' time, Commander Buxley, Sir."

Tossing his head back Seamus finishes his drink with a flourish and bangs the tankard down on the table. With a rakish grin he calls to the waitress. "Barmaid! Where are ye, lass? Me tankard is as dry as a desert! Grant us the pleasure of thine gracious company and bring us another round if it would please you!"

Amberlee, one of the waitresses approaches the table carrying two large pitchers of ale, one dedicated to filling Seamus' tankard. As she pours his drink she cocks an eyebrow at him and says with a mocking tone, "Seamus, ye silver tongued devil, don't think that flattery is going to get you out of paying your tab!" At the end, however, she grins and gives him a wink.

Feigning a hurt expression Seamus retorts, "Cheat a lovely lass such as yourself? Never! How could I go out into the world and face certain death knowing that I had done fair Amberlee such a grievous harm? I'd lose the will to live!" With that Seamus hands her a handful of coins that comes to about double their current bill. "Here ye be my lovely lass. This should cover our tab for the now. Our stalwart commander is expecting us so I suspect that we will have to cut this shorter than I'd like. Keep the remainder as a token of my everlasting gratitude of your good will."

Amberlee takes the money and gives Seamus a kiss on the cheek and says with a laugh. "Seamus you are so full of it yer eyes should be brown! But I suppose that I can't have your death on me conscious." In a kinder tone she continues, "be careful out there ye great oaf. I'd hate to lose me best tipping customer." With a toss of her hip she turns and makes her way back to the bar.

Turning back to his companions with a grin, "Quite the lass that though she wastes her talents tending bar. Still, I shan't complain as it gives me the pleasure of her company on a regular basis." Looking over to Earl over the brim of his tankard he says, "As for you my fine new Yank friend, I can't speak for the others but I have no problem having you along. Ye be a doughty fighter based on what I've seen so far and your heart seems to be in the right place. That be good enough for me." Waving his ale in the direction his the port and spilling a bit in the process, "if ye try to make me drink that swill, however, I'll be needin to knock you into the middle of next week and that's a fact. Me sainted ma would come back from the summer lands just to kick me arse for doing such a thing."

[High Command]

Brigid was adding things to her own drink as it came, and the odor - of cinnamon - that it gave off made it smell entirely different than the dark beer they were putting down. Somehow it was also warm, which was odd enough. Steam would rise from the mug periodically. She is bemused by Peace and Seamus. She enjoyed the ramblings of the curious scientist. Seamus' incessant flirting with a girl a third his size was always amusing. She hated giants. She'd joined the infamous Northumberland Giant Hunters for that reason, and they'd become quite good at it. When she'd first met Seamus, she honestly tried to kill him. Thankfully, while he could hit harder, they were more evenly matched in skill. This caused her to withdraw and have the situation explained to her. She now counted him amongst her closest friends. At his comment about the port, she snorts. "Let me see it after you open it and let it breath." She sniffs it and her face screws into a sour expression smelling the sharp vinegar. "Oy, you do nah want this as it is. But I'll not let anyone commit alcohol on what should be a fine vintage. Just a moment." She plops down her cauldron he saw her cook a meal out of, and pulls out a pouch. She adds a few drops of something that has a poison warning on it to the bottle of port, and a few drops of collected dew as well, and then taps a tune out on the cauldron. The volume is low, and does not disturb the others. A few minutes later the the liquid in the bottle changes color subtly. Brigid sniffs and smiles, then hands it back to Earl. "There we are me boyo. Now you can pour, and Seamus, you big lunk, you can do the man the honor of sharing a drink. It'll be a light dash against your palate anyway." The process didn't change much - it was still a very old port which usually meant good. But it did enhance the taste enough to objectively taste better. She makes a point of toasting with Seelia before drinking - which is to say holding her glass still while the fairy taps her custom-made cup against it. "To the history of the Isles, and the future of her people. All Hail Vauxhall Cross, all hail Jolly Old England, and her folk."

[Sgt 86Delta]

The Tavernkeep Wilton Styles shows up at the table just as drinks are about to be poured from the recovered bottle of Port. "Now hold on there you bloody Yank. The rules apply to you to. NO Outside Beverages Allowed Inside. I verify all the alcohol and spirits served here."

Pulling the bottle from Earl's hands, he holds it up and inspects the label. Styles nearly drops the bottle when he sees the date stamped in wax on the side of the bottle. "Is the year on this correct?" Styles inspects the bottle and cork stopper. "THIS IS PRE-RIFTS! Well I just about soiled myself." He looks around a bit embarrassed. "Give me a couple of minutes to properly open this, draw a sample, and serve it to you all properly."

Styles disappears with bottle, back behind his bar, and even further into a mysterious room behind the bar. Gone for maybe 15 minutes Styles returns holding a tray with shot glasses for everyone and a glass thimble for Seelia. Entering the room with the team he quickly says, "Was there more bottles where you found this one?"

"Look I took four shots worth," catching the looks of the team, "No, not to drink but to study and replicate. Some techniques in brewing and wine making have been lost to the Rifts. This bottle was so well sealed that maintained almost all of its original production quality. It aged very well. Please, let me have bottle and cork when you are finished with the port." Styles sets the tray down on the table and walks out of the room. Anyone that continues listening to Styles as leaves, will hear him whistling and being very jovial.

[hobo joe]

Peace comes back to the table a couple minutes after the tavern keeper leaves, and after no one asks the barmaid to bring him a refill. He looks at the table, takes in as much as he can about what he's missed. Decides (perhaps because he has had several more than one or two of the generously sized glasses) that he really doesn't care too much, especially since he had some great epiphanies while taking a leak.

"It occurred to me a moment ago that one of the greatest maladies facing, perhaps the singular threat to, humanity is ignorance. I...what in the name of Olympus Mons? The cauldron..again?" He sits down and the table staring at Birgid's handy work, maybe a little bit jealous the array of equipment she has. It's not his style of course, but a good solid field kit for whatever it is that she does. He postulates, and idea forming. "Birgid, it strikes me that the production of an aged wine such a port depends in part on the imperfections of the barrel in which it is aged. Would the variations, I would not imply such a storied implement as a cauldron is imperfect, be a significant part of the efficacy of your arcane tools?" But he really thinks, Where does she keep the cauldron? And then of course he tries to draw a comparison between Invid alchemism, which seems to defy a lot of scientific principles, not quite as blatantly as the so called magic of the Perytonians or Garudans. But the strange abilities on this earth are so much more at odds with the modern--his modern--understanding of the world.

He mumbles, "I really am surprised they're not here net."

[Radecliffe]

Seamus grimaces as Peace launches into another of his hypotheses. "Hear now, my favorite Martian, no good can come of asking too many questions about the workings of fair Brigid's cauldron. The relationship between what goes in and what comes out is vague at best. Take me counsel, the wisest course of action would be to simply appreciate the results and not think too hard on the how of it."

[High Command]

Brigid smiles. "I can walk you through the process. It's simple in concept, though not in principle. By means of enchanting within the cauldron, I can transmute materials put into it. Crude simpletons in ages past demanded that you turn lead into gold. A simple matter that simply requires rewriting a few molecular bonds really, but that's not the point. Instead we can alter a normally poisonous vegetation and make into a biological enhancement agent. Like a steroid, but in food form. You should see what they fae do with them. Actually, no you shouldn't. You probably wouldn't look so good with burgundy skin."

[hobo joe]

"Fascinating. Transmuting living creatures from one form to another was a standard practice of the Invid. They would most commonly use it to "evolve" as they called it, hah!, from one stage to another. It was some mad quest for the ultimate life form. Which is why they also embarked on the most horrific experiments on living creatures I have ever seen. I shudder, even as a man of science and a Marine of more than my share of bloody drops. The things that come out of a genesis pit...well they are horrible." He lost track of his point. Ranting about the cruelty of the Invid is very distracting, and an easy trap to fall in, especially when one is slightly in his cups. "Yes, so transmutation is not an unknown concept to me. I do think I am vastly more comfortable with the transmutation of simple matter from one form to another rather than living, sentient, or, well, for that matter, some of the simple plant life I've seen twisted and tormented is enough to... well, I'll say, your cauldron seems tame and harmless, if you get my meaning, and not controlled a malicious and callous inhuman alien intelligence...er, well, you're really nothing like the Invid, Birgid."

He sweats for a second. The worst thing in his mind is to compare someone to the Invid, and now he's just here and gone and done just that. Sure, this pixie, fae, faery, whatever, isn't human. Still its--rather--her intelligence seems fundamentally humanoid, similar to the other Sentinel races, they are weird and quirky but not wholly alien. He feels he's really put his foot in it, calling someone an Invid! Sheesh! So he decides to have a radical topic shift, "Now, here, this is an example of why you don't go out drinking with a Garudan." he says then pulls up his sleeve:

[Sgt 86Delta]

Higgins stands up from his corner, leans forward with his cup of tea towards Earl. "Pour me a shot into the old bowl here."

Looking at the others, "What. It shouldn't hurt the tea none."

"Transmutation is all well and good. Peace, how long you expect that suit of yours will mantain power. Sounds like you may be needing more than transmutation to find a suitable fuel/power source."

[MJH]

Earl throws the first shot down his gullet in a single swallow. He does his best to stifle the cough that tries to force its way out.

That wasn't half bad, I guess I ought to enjoy the next one."

He reaches over and pours himself another one, this time taking the time to taste it. As he listens to Peace, he thinks back on what he knew and what he heard went on at the Lonestar facility.

The Coalition called it evolution, too, at one point. Maybe the Splugies die as well way back when. Somehow, I am not seeing a anthropomorphic grizzly with thermo-imaging and vibro-knives for claws natural. At any rate, how drunk does this Knight Commander want us? I'm guessing if it's anything like my former CO, sober enough to understand but drunk enough to by into the suicidal mission he's tryin' to sell."

[Sgt 86Delta]

Amberlee saunters back into the team's room on the ground floor of the White Stag Tavern. She stops at the table collecting the empty drinking vessels and making a note of who needs another or possibly who doesn't. She moves quickly and does little to disrupt the current conversations and paying even less attention to what is being said. Truth be told, she would probably much rather being joining the team than serving them drinks after an adventure, but she needs a way to make a living.

[hobo joe]

Higgins stands up from his corner, leans forward with his cup of tea towards Earl. "Pour me a shot into the old bowl here."

Looking at the others, "What. It shouldn't hurt the tea none."

"Transmutation is all well and good. Peace, how long you expect that suit of yours will mantain power. Sounds like you may be needing more than transmutation to find a suitable fuel/power source."

"I would have to go do a complete readout to estimate the exact quantity of power, but the actual number is meaningless," Peace responds to Higgins, thinking, where in the red sky did he come from? He takes a draught of whatever it he has at hand at this point before continuing. "You are correct that a power source conversion will be required. There are several possibilities. Miniaturized nuclear power sources seem to be readily available, so that's an option. Just what effect that will have on the other aspects a protoculture power supply enhances is hard to gauge, as that mechanism is barely understood by our most brilliant scientists." He pauses again, this time not to drink but to not subtly watch Amberlee, which, really, who doesn't? Recovering, he again assaults poor HIggins with too much information, "Transmutation may actually be a reasonable approach. It would take some research, but it may be possible to extract flower of life dna or other genetic information that would allow us to clone it and produce a viable supply for production. Of course, that would likely increase the risk of Invid attack, but they're already on the way, so the delta one way or the other would be well below statistical error margins."

[MJH]

Earl watches Amberlee take care of the patrons in the White Stag with a lot more attention than what most barmaids would give to their job.

”You look like you are a bit more than you are lettin’ on, if I may say Ma’am. I don’t mean to pry into your business but I am not all that familiar with the way things work here and I am finding myself in a bit of a predicament. You see, my horse.......well she is a robot but she is the closet thing to a traveling companion I had for a while before ending up here..well anyway, her name is Eleanor and I am getting the impression that if I am going to be sent out with this crew, that maybe...well...Dammit I’m tryin’ to say that I need somebody I can trust to look in on her every once in a while and she don’t take to just anybody. Do you think you could help me?”

[Radecliffe]

After Amberlee departs the area Seamus slaps the table and barks with laughter. "Our new Yank is smitten with the fair Amerblee methinks. Have a care with that one lad. She's a good lass and a Spitfire to boot, mark my words." Picking up his tankard Seamus chuckles again and says half to himself, "watch me robot horse? I'll be having to remember that one, heh heh." Tipping his head back he takes another draught of his ale.

[hobo joe]

Higgins stands up from his corner, leans forward with his cup of tea towards Earl. "Pour me a shot into the old bowl here."

Looking at the others, "What. It shouldn't hurt the tea none."

"Transmutation is all well and good. Peace, how long you expect that suit of yours will mantain power. Sounds like you may be needing more than transmutation to find a suitable fuel/power source."

Peace considers HIggins for a moment, mulling the gentleman's words around. There are meanings that might be easily misconstrued with such words as "transmute". "Indeed, Higgins, if you will. Transmute is a term we in the scientific disciplines within the REF termed the process that the invid use to either transform themselves to a higher 'evolutionary' state, or to turn the flower of life into the power source known as protoculture. See, we had no other way in our lexicon to describe something that for all intents and purposes seemed like magic. So, the term 'transmute' was applied, a logical choice given it has a somewhat metaphysical nuance." Speaking, at length, which is the way Peace normally speaks, still makes one's throat dry. He drains the last of his beer. "So yes, I will need to develop a suitable power source. I may or may not have professed the capabilities beyond just the simple provision of energy a protoculture power source supplies. It imbues the man and machine with a symbiosis that goes far beyond mere physical controls. As I have observed however, mecha on this Earth seem to have a similar quality. It is very curious. Indeed. Very curious."

Distracted by another conversation, Peace switches his attention.

"A robot horse, you say? I should have anticipated co-evolution of technologies based on more primitive transportation methods," Peace says, turning his chair around to lean on the back while still facing the table. He plunks some coinage of uncertain denomination on the table, for no other reason than to hear it clink. "Yes, indeed it appears that Dr Lang developed some robot horses for the Praxians, or, as they were colloquially known, Amazons. They had a natural predilection towards close combat. Also, they averaged well over seven feet in hight, so as you might imagine, our standard human size mecha were not entirely suitable. Even destroids with their generous piloting compartment were too cramped." He takes a sip at as his glass, realizes it's empty and stands up quickly, looks around, feels a little dizzy and plops back down in the seat with a sigh. "One unfortunate development the even more unfortunately named RAT-1, was the protoculture energy source. Unneeded to say the least, but at that time we really had no idea the invid were all possessed of inherent protoculture sensing capabilities. It is unfortunate. They will probably attack me first, as the only user of that miraculous power source on this version of Earth." He tries to take a drink again. Fails. Continues talking. "England, America, mind you these are virtual fairy tales---uh, no offence---I had until arriving here only ever seen Earth as a brighter dot among countless other stars."

[MJH]

After Amberlee departs the area Seamus slaps the table and barks with laughter. "Our new Yank is smitten with the fair Amerblee methinks. Have a care with that one lad. She's a good lass and a Spitfire to boot, mark my words." Picking up his tankard Seamus chuckles again and says half to himself, "watch me robot horse? I'll be having to remember that one, heh heh." Tipping his head back he takes another draught of his ale.

Earl turns to Seamus and smirks but there is little humor in his eyes. "Yeah, Eleanor's a robot and I shouldn't go and put more into it than that. And yeah, Amberlee is very 'fair' as you put it. But that ain't it. See, I picked up Eleanor when I won her in a poker hand to a Quick Flex that didn't count on a fourth five beating his flush. At first, I thought of her as nothing more than a vehicle to get from point A to point B--just like a hovercycle, really. I had hooked up with a crew from one of the larger bandit gangs in the Pecos, which one isn't important but we got hit hard by a single wild vampire one night. Tore through us like a mountain lion through sheep. Everybody was either running or dead and I had caught a stray claw that cut deep and cracked ribs. Eleanor got me out of there and eventually to a town where I could get patched up. I was bleeding and half dead and probably was unconscious for most of the journey that lasted days or maybe week, I dunno. She got me through and maneuvered and dodged warring tribes, Coalition patrols, and the general nastiness this earth brings. No run of the mill robot can do what she did. Hell, no real horse probably could. So yeah, Amberlee as you point out is no ordinary barmaid, hence the perfect person to take care of Eleanor."