The Next Morning

Posted on Wed Aug 17th, 2022 @ 4:19pm by Seshi Macae & Caithlin t'Leiya & Thaddeus Yu Dr & Cornelius Warner MS & Lieutenant Gunnar Arnason & Raikael t'Leiya

3,309 words; about a 17 minute read

Mission: Roll With It
Location: Silver Tongue
Timeline: MD 02: 0923 Hrs

'Good Morning! You've had Six Hours of Rest! This replenishes your spells and abilities!'

Seshi's eyes popped open at the sound of the pleasant automated voice, sitting up to determine it's source. Her eyes rested upon where she had last left the absurd banana, which insisted upon her rest so that she would regain the energy she needed.

But, the strange produce was nowhere to be found, nor was the source of the odd voice. In a realm such as this, an automated anything seemed out of place. What was going on here?

She took the moment to gather herself, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before giving her companions a motherly check-over.

Tucked into one corner by the fireplace, two of the cot rolls formed an erstwhile 'L' or 'V', arranged in such a way that you'd have to get past them to get at the third one truly in the corner, which was occupied by Raikael, tangled braids and ear points just barely peeking out of the blankets she was burrowed into. The pair flanking her were occupied by Gunnar and by Caithlin, the latter of whom had apparently been awake already, probably having traded off watch whenever Cornelius had gone to sleep, and stretched slightly, eyeing Seshi, then the bizarre talking banana, possibly considering the merits of turning it into banana bread.

At the automated voice, Gunnar's eyes popped open and he sat straight up - reacting with a medical officer's ingrained response to such an announcement even before the words registered in his still half-asleep brain. Half-sleep went to fully awake as the blanket fell away and the morning chill hit bare skin - a fact that caused a moment of alarmed confusion at seeing Caithlin nearby before he recalled that his tunic was serving as warm nightshirt for Raikael. Rubbing his arms for warm, he glared in the perceived direction of the disembodied voice, replying sarcastically. "Please state the nature of the medical emergency."

"Uhnn..." Zoe groaned at the offensive interruption to blessed sleep. Rolling over, she rubbed her eyes, muttering. "I had the weirdest dr-" The rest was cut off at the sight of Arnason, bare-chested and stretching his arms, making her wonder if she'd wandered out of a weird D&D dream and landed in one of Hana's stupid fantasies.

"Not a dream, I'm afraid," Gunnar said gently, catching a look of surprise and alarm that he assumed was because of waking still in the weird dream.

"Caw!" A raven glided down from a rafter, settling on a table and bopping its head as if in confirmation.

"Right." Gunnar nodded at it. "If there's food, we should eat before whatever woke us decides to keep its plot moving," he suggested.

Zoe's brows lifted. Arnason always talked to Mahone's dog like it was a person, but this seemed a little beyond his big softy for animals thing. "You understood what it said?"

Gunnar laughed. "No. But I'm familiar with mythologies where corvids are messengers, and," he glanced at a tattoo on his biceps that he had never - and normally would never - have had applied, "...it seems I'm meant to be a character in one of them."

To one side, meanwhile, Caithlin had given a slight, brisk nod of agreement to his earlier comment about eating or otherwise preparing before the proverbial other shoe dropped, and had started rousing her niece and starting her trading Gunnar's shirt for her now-dry clothes while herself inventorying and packing up potentially-useful items and stowing away evidence of their presence in the bar. It was done with the brisk efficiency of someone who had in all likelihood spent a fair number of nights in their life before this holed up in some temporary hiding spot she had needed to clear and move quickly onto the next on the next night, over and over again under pursuit or constant threat of it: Caithlin had lasted six or seven months still in Romulan space after the fall of the Empire, before finally crossing the border; six or seven months almost certainly made of such things. By the time her niece was dressed, she already had both their bedrolls condensed and rolled again and in a stack to take back down to the basement or cart with them, then moved onto shooing Gunnar and Zoe off theirs to start on them next.

"Here's your shirt. Thanks." Raikael, now slid back into her own clothes but not having bothered to fix her hair which now looked rather disheveled from the combination of rain and sleep, held Gunnar's shirt back out to him with one hand, the other hand trying to slide a boot back on her foot.

"You're welcome," he replied, taking it and slipping it on. "All the more welcome for returning it warm," he added with a smile before finishing his own efficient packing - in his case, less a matter of experience being on the run than an abundance of time spent hiking and camping. The delay came as he retrieved the armor, holding it up almost at arms' length with an unhappy sigh. If there were any way to cinch it enough to fit Raikael or Caithlin he'd hand it over gladly. He briefly considered just leaving it but given the scenario that didn't seem wise, so he began strapping it back on.

At the conclusion of his own watch, Cornelius had fallen asleep at the bottom of the stairs as he himself had tried to work something of the chaos around him out. Stirring from his own spot, he'd climbed back up to the others, and grabbed some of the left over meat and bread. He placed it at the bar and set to extinguishing the last of the fire before setting to straightening the place a little. Testing a few of the other barrels, he found one with water that, to the best of his ability seemed safe and free of concern. Almost too conveniently there were water skins in the bar, which he filled and placed out. With the care and ease of a practiced cook, he divided up the remainder of the food once others had eaten, and packaged it up.

"It'll keep for the day, but I wouldn't trust it much further than that." Nodding to the gathered group, he looked at the bits of sunlight that tricked in through the barricaded windows. Carefully he pulled aside the makeshift covers, and looked around, seeing no one in the immediate area, nodded back to Caithlin before retrieving cloak from where it had sat. "We should be good to move out from here," he noted, while strapping Gunnar's sword to his waist before pulling the heavy cloak around himself again, obscuring his form.

There was another brisk gesture of acknowledgment from Caithlin; who then reached out a hand to her niece and plucked a dagger from where it was concealed under the girl's little half-cloak and tunic, instead positioning it openly at Raikael's hip for an easy, instant grab and draw. It was, to anyone with a decent knowledge of the species at hand, practically a glaring-neon signal that the former senator and Continuing Committee member expected trouble: The default was to wear such things concealed, generally; open carry was a sign that either you expected to get into a fight soon, or that you thought making it clear you were prepared for one might cause some adversaries to think twice about striking you.

Next, she turned towards Zoe and applied the same assessment, though she seemed more hesitant to simply grab the other girl without permission. "Whatever you've got you could use in a fight, make sure you put it somewhere easy to access." Caithlin nodded slightly at Zoe and Seshi with the words, then finally a glance at Gunnar; though it possibly wasn't necessary to say in his case: It wasn't like you could stash an ax very many different places anyways.

"I think it would be impossible for this outfit to not imply I was prepared to fight," Gunnar replied as if to the unspoken thought behand a Romulan deciding to openly show a weapon. But because he was honest, he added. "No matter the truth of the implication. I'd give a lot right now for a hypo, or a phaser that could be set to stun."

Zoe's eyes narrowed. "You can fight though," she said moving the slim dagger she'd found in her supplies to her belt for easy retrieval. "I heard you had a combat medal for Gede II."

How would you have heard that?? He didn't ask. He wasn't sure he wanted to know. "I have a commendation for being a stubborn idiot." He looked away, shaking out the bearskin before wrapping it over his shoulder. "But, yes, I've had Starfleet training. I won't cause harm if I can avoid it, but I also won't allow anyone to harm you if I can prevent it."

"I would take a ranged weapon of any sort, at this point." Caithlin sighed in frustration. "Phaser, disruptor, or even simply a bow and arrow set. Perhaps we'll come across some of those, at least, in some other structure further into town."

"If Seshi can control the weather, we might be able to leverage that towards some range, have muscles here keep them off while you and I cut down those who get too ballsy," Cornelius said to Caithlin. "Though a bow might be nice." He unlatched the door and leaned more outside now to look around, confirming it was clear before pulling his hood up to conceal his face and stepping out onto the street.

An incredulous blonde eyebrow rose at the owner being referred to as 'muscles'. "I'm a medical, not security," he objected, though as he put on the wrist braces he had to admit that Sofia might be right that he'd been using the gym as a substitute for talking to anyone after a nightmare. But being medical he knew muscle mass wasn't definitive. "Besides, Caithlin could probably throw both of us across the room without breaking a sweat."

“That would not be the type of ranged weaponry or tactics I am thinking of, however.” Caithlin said with more than touch of humor and a slight smirk on her face.

Leaned against the door watching the sky, Cornelius gave a short and tired laugh. "Now while I am not usually the one to turn down being tossed around myself, it'll be Caithlin's dexterity that will probably be more useful. I say we get moving though, lets see if we can't find out more about what's happening."

Caithlin let Cornelius take point as they left the bar, exiting second but then hanging back as she ushered out Raikael, Zoe, Gunnar, and Seshi before taking up a position near the rear: If they only had two people with halfway decent weapons (well, three; but Gunnar had an unnatural hesitation to use the ax, she was sure), best to position them to cover as many angles of approach as possible.

Thaddeus woke with a start and soft growl escaping his lips. He'd found himself on the ground where apparently he had spent the night. His head hurt; he didn't remember drinking that much. As Thaddeus stood up he noticed he was wearing some sort of leather armour. Something like his great-grandfather would have worn. It had the Empire emblem on the chest, and went down to his knees, but still left his arms bare. On the ground next to where he had been laying was a long staff. Made of dark wood and inscribed to match his tattoo. Picking it up, it somehow felt natural in his hands as if he was used to wielding it on a daily basis.

Having seen that Cornelius knew how to use a sword, Gunnar was happy to let him take point. Indeed, he would have been quite happy to take the medic position here, but that did not seem to be the role assigned and as little as liked fighting, he was Starfleet and the rest were not so he had a duty to try to protect them. Even if that only came down to placing himself were he'd be the most obvious target, which being a head taller than Cornelius and draped in armor and a bearskin wasn't difficult. He certainly felt like he stood out like a sore thumb. But as the turned a corner, he staggered a step at the sight of a Klingon warrior and a hand fell to his side - not to the axe, but to the site of an old wound, one Karg had taken sadistic delight at...

He sucked a breath and shook his head, refocusing. The man in front of him was not Karg, nor any of his confederates (though Gunnar couldn't help a swift look around the area for signs of any others). No, in fact, this person was wearing armor nearly as outdated as his own. Someone else caught in this nonsense? Or a new threat being thrown at them? Despite his feeling toward Karg, he was not at all sanguine about aggression toward a random Klingon, and he could guess Caithlin's feelings were likely 180 degrees from his own there. Stepping forward, he raised a hand. "nuqneH. naDev ghoS SoH'a'? [Hello. Are you from around here?]"

"I speak Federation," Thaddeus growled, "I was stopping by, waiting for my ship out." Thaddeus looked up at the sky saying this, and let out a bark of laugher. "I think I missed my flight." the pain in his head made him wince, and he rub his forehead absently. "I am Yu; is this ghuy' normal around here or did I just drink too much?"

"If you drank too much, we all did. Which, considering last night, may have actually been an option for the majority here," Seshi piped in, stuffing the odd banana in one of the various folds of the robes that had not disappeared from last night. "But rest assured, this is far from normal for us. Unless you want to lump it in with other odd phenomena that seems to come with living on this planet."

Contrary to Gunnar's thoughts, it appeared that in this case 'aggression towards a random Klingon' was not Caithlin's first instincts so much as 'concern about aggression from a random Klingon'; pulling her niece flush against her side at the sight at the sight, one hand on a weapon but not drawing yet, the other with a tritanium grip on the younger Romulan's arm.

"Speak for yourself on drinking too much," Gunnar told Seshi. "I'd had nothing but coffee. I assume the girls were sober as well," he said casting a glance at Raikael and Zoe. "In any case, we all seem to have been displaced or changed. Normally I'm Lieutenant Arnason, dressed in medical blue, not..." he looked down at his outfit unhappily, "old earth warrior garb." Then deciding introductions where in order, he continued, indicating each of the party as he spoke. "This is Mr. Warner, who own the local bar, Ms. Macae, a councilwoman, Ms. t'Leiya, a lawyer, her niece, Raikael, and Ms. Tien, who had been performing at the coffee house tonight."

"Probably why I got morphed to a bard," Zoe remarked, then cast a look around. The Romulans seemed fine with their roles and Mr. Warner was apparently secretly some sort of badass. On the other hand, while Arnason surprised her at being familiar with handling a sword, he was too clearly uncomfortable with the whole thing to imagine this was some hidden of side of him. "But it doesn't seem to have mapped like that with everyone."

"What is a bard?," Thaddeus asked, then looking down at his own outfit. There were definate signs of warrior, but warriors didn't use blunt instruments like staffs.

"It's like a traveling musician and storyteller," Zoe supplied with a teenage shrug. She might like the role in a historical setting, but here it seemed a little lame. Plus, she wasn't exactly feeling much like writing ballads about anyone here.

"In some human cultures they were also historians and teachers, people who knew various lore," Gunnar added. "And believed to possess a kind of magic."

Historian and teacher did *not* make it any more appealing, but at the last Zoe's eyes widened. "I could have magic?"

He shrugged. "There is an old belief that words have power, and moreso in song." Before she decided to test that and conjured anything as random as Seshi had, he quickly redirected the conversation to Yu. "I'm not sure what you're supposed to be, honestly. I know something of modern Klingon culture, but that staff strikes me as something out of older mythos."

"At least whatever has done this saw fit to grant him something out of his own myths or histories, or partially so. I appear to have been stuck with a likeness from yours." Caithlin said dryly to Gunnar with a slight gesture at the elf garb and the tiara on her head. The comment was both to be taken at face value, and a test of sorts as well, to see how the Klingon might react when his notice was drawn to them, before anyone finished closing the remaining distance.

"While I can appreciate historical context as much as the next man," Cornelius interjected, looking about, "Perhaps this is a conversation either had back in the bar, or on the road as we move." He nodded towards the centre of town. "I suggest we head that way?"

"I maybe some sort of priest..." Thaddeus muttered while the other's conversed. Part of his mind was still trying to figure out why the inscription on the staff matched his tattoo. He scanned the group, it looked like a mixed bunch, even a child. Mostly Human, some not, but then what did you expect from Starfleet. "Perhaps, if you have somewhere to be I can join you? I do not know this planet or town well. I would prefer not to be on my own."

Not being on your own sounded like a very sensible idea, and one Gunnar was almost surprised hearing from a Klingon, but he was relieved at not having to come up with some acceptable-to-Klingon-honor way to encourage him not to set out alone. "Of course. Please join us. I'd prefer not to leave anyone to deal with ...whatever is going on here... on their own."

"The more the merrier," Seshi piped in agreement, goofy banana clapping its odd flappy mouth in celebration on her shoulder. But in the next moment, the banana let out a yelp, hovering into the air. Seshi's eyes followed the creature's strange verbal gesturing further into the town proper. Naturally, this offered little in the way of an answer, but the banana flew down the block, before returning and circling back to Seshi with a little 'This way!'

The extravagantly-clad woman turned to the group. "Well, as we're a group of... adventurers I suppose, shall we go... adventure and see if this offers any more answers?"

Clearly I have given grave offense to Elements and the universe, to be reduced to now taking instructions from a talking banana, thought Caithlin, but she said nothing and kept up her place as the rear guard of the group, with on hand still on her niece's arm, making sure the recent addition to the group joined further to the front than her own position: Whoever the newcomer was, she didn't trust him at her back yet, and she trusted him at Raikael's back even less.

 

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