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Post by guinuspiggus on Jun 10, 2018 5:09:05 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Water Tank | Deck 02 | Augustus Station]
The water tank of deck 02 was a hot, humid environment, bristling with lush leaves bigger than small children and vines that climbed every support and wall exposed to air. The water was green and not very translucent, with a layer of bright green algae coating the surface of the stilled waters. If one looked, there was something moving in there. A great shadow, or maybe flash of light. To top it all off, a muffled, thin sound broke the otherwise perfect silence. The tank was a cylinder. It had not been touched up by the Octavious group, save for some structural integrity measures. It’s walls were no longer so pure, with moss growing in spots where the wall had given in and paint missing from some walls, filled in with such vibrant organic inks. The walkway around the tank was just as lush, the moss providing a luxuriously soft natural carpet. To one side of the walkway was his assortment of machines, used for making his Carwyl. Removed for some cleaning and adjustments before his next batch, they were silent and still. Above water was a music player, mounted to the wall rather crudely, with waterproof speakers dropped into the tank’s water. As well, the vines of the wild flora that grew here were methodically woven together in an intricate pattern, covering the side of the cylinder facing the station. Baskets woven from the same vines stuck out from the vine-wall, with flowers and mementos of his just inside and willowing flowers dangling from them, meeting the surface of the water and just floating. The water was hard to see through, but below, there was a creature. The creature lurking in the water tank was one Syrano, who suspended himself in the greenish waters. His skirts gently fluttered, maintaining his position in the tank without any further effort on his part. His legs dangled uselessly. He was listening to one of his favorite recordings, a violin piece acquired from some Octavious group employee. His upper set of eyes were closed, his hands pressed to his mouth as he contemplated the gentle movement of the strings from one note to another. His world was quiet, peaceful. Uninterrupted by the daily comings and goings of the world around him… so he thought.
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 10, 2018 9:03:39 GMT
[ Claudius | Water Tank | Restricted Zone | Augustus Station ] The original computer core of Augustus Station was so tightly sealed that accessing it directly proved impossible for every party that had tried in the years that the station had been abandoned. It was sealed so tightly that no moisture or air from the station and seeped into the chamber in nearly that entire time. Thus the core maintained it's usual high level of efficiency, even if the computers of both the Union and Octavian had been unable to interface with it. The lack of interface had been the result of Claudius wishing not to interact with them, at least not yet. Instead, he had observed. He had watched the cosmos for a long time and a few years of watching some primitive bipeds wander around his station mattered not to him. When he chose to speak to specific individuals he would activate one of his monitors or system observation nodules and speak directly. No need to interface with less powerful machines than he. On that day, after a rather disappointing conversation with Parma, chief of the Lienati, who remained wishing to engage the, as he continued to refer to them, "Interlopers" in armed combat. As he had done for nearly 3 full years Claudius had advised against even making contact. The time would come for that, and far sooner than the Lienati would be ready for it. Indeed the most reasonable voice Claudius spoke with was often one of the newer life forms he had made his presence known too. He disliked being called upon to do anything, so he made his presence known to only a few, and only those who would know not to bother him with the trivial. With a soft click, he activated the sensor node in the water storage tank area and did a sweep of the area. He had limited usable monitors so he wanted to pick the best one to appear on. Unfortunately, he had none underwater, and if he did they would have been covered with algae. So he activated the underwater sonar dish and used it to speak through, he had long since adapted it's programming to act as both a sonar dish and an underwater speaker. "Oy! Syrano, you daft fish!" He called out into the murky waters. Long had he learned to not use titles, or show any respect at all really. The fact his accent came across so clearly under the water was no small feat of both programming and engineering. "Get your butt above the water so I can see ya! Ya, look like a cheap prom dress under t' water, all frilly and floaty."
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Post by guinuspiggus on Jun 10, 2018 16:04:17 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Water Tank | Deck 02 | Augustus Station]
His gentle repose was interrupted, very rudely, by his least favorite station inhabitant; the station itself. He already knew when he heard the soft clicking noise that he was about to be bothered. Sure enough, he heard the crisp, clear voice of Claud in the water, just as clear as his music. His hands went to pinch the bridge of his nose, his antennae quivered with the new voice.
“You don’t need to see me to speak to me, Claudius.” He spoke, scolding the AI and denying him visual contact for no other reason than he could. The strings went on, adding an ironic accent to his tense mood.
The string music went on, but he was no longer allowed to meditate on it’s sweet, delicate melody. His skirts bristled, the black edges stirring up the algae around him. He didn’t appreciate being called a fish, though, he wasn’t exactly sure what a ‘prom’ dress was. He’d take it as an insult regardless.
“Either you have interrupted my music for a good reason, or you’re acting a pest for your own delight. If it’s the latter, I’ll remove your sonar from my tank and toss it in the recycler to become something more useful.” It was an empty threat, because Syrano could not and would not remove those sensors. Claudius, as much as he hated the AI, was the only way he could keep up with the Lienati these days. He didn’t care for the station AI, but he did care for the natives. After all, he owed them a life-debt. If it wasn’t for the native station inhabitants, he would likely have died the first few months on this station. Because of them, he’s lived here for almost five years, according to the station clock.
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 13, 2018 6:14:46 GMT
[ Claudius | Water Tank | Restricted Zone | Augustus Station ] Deep inside aged severs and less than new hard drives Claudius considered this. In truth, he could basically see Syrano on the thermal imaging sensors. He only ever demanded that the aquatic man come out of the water to keep up the illusion that the water was in some way private. Organic sentients seemed to value privacy, though they also detested not being able to summon aid at a moment's notice. Thus he had to stay close and be aware of them at all times, yet they also had to feel like he was not there. So of all things the oddest ability Claudius had, to make his job easier, was the ability to lie. He could not tell the truth or imply something to be true that was not. And in the worst case scenario, he could tell a flat-out falsehood. It had been a very long time since he had to do that. " An' what if ay tell Parma about that little still ya got goin? Let him and his know about alcohol, maybe?" Claudius chimed in with the sound a smug self-satisfaction. Of course, it was a meaningless threat. About a century ago, long before Parma had taken the position as Hancho of the Lienati, the tribe had discovered wine. They had but a single brewer and the stocks were always limited. And with recent Betty and nut harvests, the way they had been only honored guests had been allowed to have any of the sacred fluid. " Maybe ya could get 'em hooked on yer hooch and then ya could be Hancho yerself?" Claudius enjoyed taunting Syrano far too much. Parma was too impulsive and rash, his kind were not quite ready for heavy-handed manipulation. They needed to be guided gently, as he always had. The biggest influence he had was continuing to delay Parma's desire to reclaim the entirety of the station and to keep them hidden from the Union and Octavian. It was his job to keep secrets after all.
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Post by guinuspiggus on Jun 13, 2018 18:52:13 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Water Tank | Deck 02 | Augustus Station]
Syrano held his arms crossed over his chest and listened, unwillingly. His skirts were still gently fluttering, as if in an invisible wind, keeping him in one place. Since he did not know Claude could see him, he did not feel it necessary to conceal his legs, like he typically did. They were thin, frail, missing much of the curve and definition that defined land-dwellers. His right was twisted just a bit, that foot always pointed inwards. They were the only part of him that still retained the gentle blue hues he had when he first arrived on the station. He always felt that they were...pathetic, really. Not to mention it’s straight up scandalous to reveal one’s legs like this. Good thing Claude couldn’t see.
“I won’t be fooling an entire species into being addicted to my swills. That’s the sort of plan you would come up with, not I.” He swung his legs and began to move up in the tank. He breached the water and brought a bunch of green algae along with him, all over his cerata and face and shoulders. His skirts came to life, slowly propelling him towards the wall of the tank. The air here was so heady with oxygen and flowery smells. The humidity was refreshing. He said he would not come out, but it was difficult to focus on Claude's voice and the violin music. That he had breached of his own desire was his excuse.
“A devilish plan. It is, how you say, Machiavellian? I’d expect nothing less from you, really.” He criticized. He came to the walkway and used his arms to lift his heavy body up. It was a strain, but thankfully his upper body was stronger than his lower. He could reach to the radio and turn his violin music off. He then allowed himself to lower back into the water, his head just above the surface.
“You didn’t invade my privacy just to chat about Carwyl and drunkards, what do you want Claude? Did they slate my tank for cleaning again?” He ran his hands over his Cerata, the algae sliding clean off and back into the newly-disturbed waters. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ve come to disturb me for something so simply solved.”
Syrano had a relationship with Claudius. One where he never bothered the AI for anything that wasn’t a true emergency, simply because he couldn’t stand the AI’s atrocious personality. He expected that, for Claude to come to him, something must’ve been up. Specifically, something with the Lienati, since Syrano has become capable of handling himself with the Octavious group. He hadn’t heard from them in some time. He found himself worried, if only a little, for their safety.
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 15, 2018 7:23:31 GMT
[ Claudius | Water Tank | Restricted Zone | Augustus Station ] A screen flicked on, one of the few functioning exposed components in the water storage tank area, it had been installed by the automated drones that tended to all of Claudius's systems shortly after Syrano had taken up residence in the tank. After a brief start-up sequence, the face of Claudius appeared on it. The avatar of Claudius, which appeared on screen when he was active within a room, was nothing more than a head floating in an inky black space. His face was human in appearance, though the reason for this was unknown, and that of a bearded 30-something-year-old man. He had the look of good humor and an earnest sort of face. " An' what if ay did come don' 'ere to talk t' ya about yer booze?" he asked with a look. " Ay could've an' ya would look a right twat right now." Claudius did his best to sound indignant about the suggestion that he had ulterior motives, even if he did. " Now ay may as well sulk an' not tell ya anything." Claudius turned his face away and made it seem like he was looking in another direction. He began to whistle. The main doors of the tank storage area did not close properly, heavy vines had long since pushed the doors open and later off their rails, now they hung as heavy barriers, with a crack just big enough for a single humanoid to walk between without too much difficulty. Through these doors, almost all traffic in and out of the water storage tank area came through, but it was not this path that the small fur-covered creatures used when they entered the massive storage area. Instead, they used a hatch hidden in the undergrowth, amongst a tangled tunnel system far to small for all but the youngest and smallest humanoids to navigate, and far too treacherous for even them. The creatures moved swiftly through their tunnel and made their way, staying out of site, to their extraction point. They spoke to each other in only silent gestures, their pale violet eyes glinting in the shadows of their tunnel, their clawed paws moving quickly as they signed to each other. They would wait for the perfect moment and then they would strike. It was what they were trained to do.
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Post by guinuspiggus on Jun 15, 2018 11:37:22 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Water Tank | Deck 02 | Augustus Station]
He only gave the simulated face of Claudius the briefest of glances. He knew what the AI looked like. Weird, even ugly by Syrano’s standards, but far be it from he to judge Claude’s tastes. Chances are he had a servos damaged somewhere.
It had taken him some time to understand Claude’s accent when he first arrived. Even with a translator, it made no sense. Now, he could understand most of it just as well as everyone else. Even some of the unique words he used, like ‘twat’, seemed like a normal part of conversation now. “Ah, there’s your pitiful face.” He spoke as he watched Claude turn around, as if putting his back to him. “And it’s gone just as fast. What a petulant child you are.” He scolded, but he didn’t seem very upset about this development at all. He started to swim towards the door to his tank, next to which he kept his walking stick. It was hand-carved, with a long handle at the top meant both for gripping and for retrieving things very high up.
Over at the vine-mesh wall, in the many woven baskets attached to it were bottles and bottles of wine. Each had a loop of vine or ribbon around the neck. He grabbed the bottom of his walking stick and used it to hook a bottle of wine, and bring it safely back to his level.
“That’s all very well for me though. I welcome the little reprieve from you that I can get.” He set the stick on the platform and took a long drink of his wine. The bottle itself was unusual, resembling a wine bottle, but made of some white opaque material, with a mouthpiece at a ninety degree angle. Mechanisms inside the mouthpiece allowed him to drink underwater, without spilling the contents into the water around him. In some ways, it resembled a wine-shaped sippy cup.
He did not hear nor see anyone beyond his doors. Unlike the storage room next to his tank, he’d cleaned up the railings of his tank doors. Even if they were wide open, he’d still fail to notice. Nobody paid him visits, not for a long time. Save for Claude, of course. He took another long drink from his wine, the dark liquid inside showing through the light. It was halfway gone already, and it started out full. Maybe only the AI knew just how much he drank in a day, and that was only because the station computer had sensors here. If he knew he was not alone, he wouldn't have been so free with his liquor.
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 16, 2018 8:06:46 GMT
[ Claudius | Water Tank | Restricted Zone | Augustus Station ] Though he had not directly interfaced with the Union computer system, very little happened on the station that Claudius was not in some way aware of. Thanks to his internal and external sensors he was aware of much of what had happened to the station since both the Octavian Group and later the Union had arrived. He had monitored the additions and had his drones stealthily implant sensors within the new areas. The sensors were not large and interfaced directly with his system, a system the Union knew existed, but had yet to figure out how to interface with. Little did they know he could only be interfaced with if he chose to be. But all the same, he was the station. And he liked to be aware of what went on. At that moment he was aware of a great number of things. Ranging from the power requirements of the food synthesizers making innumerable cups of coffee, or the newly installed waste removal system taking care of the morning's deposits. He knew exactly how many shop owners were getting ready to open their shops in the main thoroughfare where a number of storefronts and kiosks had opened in anticipation of the station being a major hub of activity. He knew all of this and yet more. This meant that when the Lienati sprang forth from the foliage and moved to quickly disable and bind Syrano, he was not in the least bit surprised. He had noticed them come in after all. He had also spoken with Parma, not a half an hour before about this. So it really was to be expected. " That reminds me, Parma wants to see ya," Claudius said making it sound as if the sudden attack and tying up of the person he was talking to was no big deal. And honestly, to Claudius at least, it wasn't. The Lienati moved swiftly to cover both sets of Syrano's eyes. Parma had long since ordered that none outside of his personal guard was to know the exact location of the Hancho's base. This was so that the Interlopers would be less likely to find it. With Syrano bound the Lienati bowed to the monitor displaying the side of Claudius's face and picked up the fish creature. They would not risk injuring him so they took the main entrance instead of using their tunnels. All the same, they moved swiftly to keep out of sight of any of the Interlopers. They could not risk being discovered. They moved through overgrown and treacherous corridors, their tiny bodies were strong, making light work of carrying Syrano as they went. Through a maze of overgrown corridors, they traveled until they arrived and after removing his blindfold, dumped Syrano into an old bathtub that had been salvaged just to dump him in when Parma called for him. The Honcho's base was like a grand cathedral if built by and for beings only 2 foot tall, which the Lienati were. The walls were made of vines that had been woven together like massive tapestries filled with lush green leaves and moss. The floor was soft Pete moss, the air smelled rich and earthy. Parma himself moved over to the tub and bowed low to his guest. " Joshi Shōgakusei Syrano, it has been too long," he said, his pale violet eyes fixing on Syrano. Unlike many of his kind, Parma wore a cloth shawl over his body, woven of fine red strands. His fur was slightly gray, showing his age. He was not a youngling anymore, but he wore his age with some degree of grace. " Hopefully the journey was not too trying on you."
Translation: Hancho - Chief Joshi Shōgakusei - Plesant Child
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Post by guinuspiggus on Jun 16, 2018 17:31:53 GMT
[ Oto Syrano | Water Tank | Deck 02 | Augustus Station]
“You--” He sighed in exasperation. There’d be no time to insult Claudius, or even gather up the bottle of wine he had been saving just for Parma. He didn’t even have the time to clean off the algae on his body. But he knew the drill. Parma insisted on this, and he let him. He bowed his head to allow the blindfold on, offered his arms to be bound. Truly, all this wasn’t really a big deal. Not only had he gone through all this before just to visit Parma, but as a young adult, he had taken a class on kidnapping, even having gone through a real hostage situation himself. This was far less dangerous, but to the Pallucia, it was still quite the annoyance. “Easy with the cerata, don’t touch.” He cautioned. Though he had lost his ability to sting within the first week of being on the station, he still advised all to not make contact. If he regained that ability, he didn’t want the Lienati in the habit of touching that part of him. The little creatures were powerful, more so than he’d have expected based on size alone. They could carry a being as large as him without much effort. As he was lifted out the water, he consciously folded his skirts around his legs, curling them up and tucking them away. He was slimy and wet, with traces of green algae still on his skin. He was not typically pleasant to the touch when fresh out the water, but if they focused on their little hands, they could likely feel another sensation. His skin seemed to rise and fall, contract and expand. His whole body, imperceptibly, would suck up whatever liquids touched it. He hoped that his Lienati friends had washed their paws recently. On the carry over, Syrano was still. His skirts flared, whenever his body told him he was off-balance, but he managed to keep himself decent. He had no clue where he was going and probably would not be able to get there himself even if he did. His legs and hips would hurt so awful on long walks like this, and the danger of falling again was so present that he he privately felt grateful for the service being offered to him. Not to mention, when he felt the oxygen-rich atmosphere of the Hancho’s residence, he was pretty sure they got him there four times faster than he’d have ever gotten on his own. His blindfold came off and he was rather rudely dumped into a bathtub specifically for him. Immediately he could tell the water wasn’t quite right, but he couldn’t figure out what. Probably the distinct difference in nutrients that his tank had. Also, it was small. His skirts remained curled, but the tail end draped over the edge of the tub and fluttered in invisible winds. Before him was Parma. Quite fluffy, as all his kind were, with an intense look to his eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was his face that made him look so bold, or if his undying spirit shone through his eyes. Either way, he was glad this creature was not his enemy. He’d work hard to keep it that way. “Good morning, tist-Hancho Parma. Your men and women are experts, I’m happy to say it was not trying in the least.” He lied, but it was so natural to do so. This used to be his job, his natural talent. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I meant to bring you a bottle of freshwater carwyl as a gift, but I didn’t have the presence of mind to grab it before leaving.” He wondered where his own bottle went. Probably dropped back in his tank, floating about and waiting for him. “I’ll see if I can send it along another time though. You’ve had me carried here for some important conversation, I presume?”
Tist- Honorific title given to government leaders
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Post by Absinthe on Jun 21, 2018 4:32:11 GMT
[ Hancho Parma | Temple of the Hancho | Restricted Zone | Augustus Station ] Though he did have a purpose in summoning Syrano, Parma knew that a certain level of cordiality must be observed before business could be gotten to. Such was the way of all matters and he was no fool. The niceties, though only serving to delay the inevitable, also maintained the illusion of friendly conversation. " Such gifts are wholly unnecessary," Parma said as he moved to the edge of the tub, the combination of the floor being raised and the tub being slightly sunk meant that the tub sunk deeper than the floor level and that Parma could stand at roughly eye level of Syrano when he was seated in it. "I requested your presence as I have a matter to discuss with you." He leaned forward, his violet eyes seeming to grow larger. " I am aware of your current relationship with the interlopers, that you have spoken with them on numerous occasions." Parma paused, considering his next words carefully. He wished to be cautious about this matter. Too long had he remained silent on the matter, preferring to watch and observe as much as possible. Though he had not gone on any of the scouting missions personally, he had received innumerable reports of the activities of the interlopers. Their continued incursions into the deeper areas of the station and their removing of the ancient tunnels his people had built in the deep tangled root systems of the plants which had claimed the station. He had waited long enough. " I must know more. My people have not made contact, but we have watched. We are running out of room to hide ourselves in, Syrano. Soon we will be exposed," he continued grimly. " My instinct is to attack before that day comes, but Claudius has again denied me. I need more insight on this matter. Tell me of your interactions with them, Syrano."
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