INHERITANCE - Arc 1: Awakening

[Plutoni]

ANGARAVANT

As he took in the facility corridor by corridor, the idea that such poorly-equipped organisms such as these had been able to get hold of his Cradle continued to baffle him. Frankly, it was embarrassing. It was like being kidnapped and vandalised by a sub-civilised species that had only just discovered they could use chipped stones as tools. Even so - how did they not realise the enormity of their mistake of allowing him free? Questions were growing upon questions and he still could find no context in which to ask them.

Baskarmyna.

Angaravant stopped immediately. The voiceless chimetouch came to him in a plume of golden light and almost birdsong, and his own flush of surprise was quickly overwhelmed by a sudden wall of noise and relief that nearly made him wince, having to fight to make any sense of it as he sent back his own surge of cradlealiengoldrustheatash and anger and confusion and a strong, insistent question overriding it all. He felt almost out of practice, too off-balance to formulate the loud, bold, imperial streams of expression that were his custom. He had no memory of this Bandi, but, again, he was still struggling to recall much of anything. Had they already met before? It was possible, but her name was ringing no bells amongst the fog. Perhaps a visual would help. He moved straight over to the door, expecting it to open as his had done so he could rejoin his fellow Bandi without delay, and nearly collided with it when it failed to do so. He stalled, realising the problem. A flash of irritation brightened slightly as he realised that this was a sudden opportunity to come to the rescue of one of his kin. What could be more noble than that?

BASKARMYNA. I WILL ASSIST.

He searched the door for a seam as he transmitted, but found none. He neglected to even look for such blatant things as control panels as he slammed all four fists upon it, calling forth a deep, sweltering heat through each palm and finger that began to glow cherry red, orange, yellow, white, and bracing himself against the floor in spite of the frustratingly low gravity, he began to lay blow after blow upon it. To him, these alien facilities were good for little more than a swift melting down. He was doing them a favour, getting it started.

 

[Cirno]

Baskarmyna

The flow of shared thought washes through her as smoothly as--Rust? Rust on what? Baskarmyna responds to his questioning tones with her own, sending muted yellows and the faint whir of a housed gear spinning without catching. She repeats the sequence that brought them to consciousness. enemies surround you. forget mercy. Although it does not properly answer hows or whys of their doubly-alien environment. The jagged temple markings of the room seem incongruous with the design of the desecrators' equipment.

Angaravant's declaration envelops her with warmth, as if strengthening her mana shields, and she goes quiet. The synchronous slam of four fists echoes like thunder. She sees the gathering heat in infrared as door's groan of protest is melted to a quavering sigh under the Vala's forge-flame will made manifest.

Baskarmyna folds her antlered passcard against herself and backs up. Angaravant burns bright in her sensorium. Where is her own heat and flame? She whirrs through her hazy sense-memories, seeking inner warmth and focus and finding none as it all spills and sieves through. Misty memory simply spills and spills, attenuating into an effulgent stream of Light.

Scorch marks pepper the door until the beam from her black helm narrows in concentration. She hones in on the already weakened material between the dents made, sparks flying as she chips away with her laser cutter.

 

[Transparent]

Ashvath

Ashvath was pleased with the results of his whiskers released them for now, focusing on the more direct matters that his sensors could pick up. Ashvath could sense the fear of the being before him and held out his hands placatingly as if reassuring it that he meant no harm. But of course, Ashvath meant him plenty of harm.

Nice to see you, friend. Any idea what the hell is going on?
Salutations friend, not a clue. I've just woken myself, in fact. Perhaps with our combined might though it should be an easy matter to discover some clue as to our whereabouts. What say you?

 

[Kittenpom20]

Fahardrin

Fahardrin felt a twinge of pity as the rifle blast left yet another one of the technicians dead at his feet, blue shields flickering out of existence as the body crashed, lifeless, on the ground. Though not strong on its own, he suspected that enough of these weapons could prove dangerous to even Bandi, and considering how many technicians had been in the room he had awoken in, this might prove an issue. Something to worry about for later, then.

Getting closer, Fahardrin made sure that the technician was well and truly gone. The creature hadn’t known much besides fear in its last moments, but at least it had been quick. Fahardrin glanced over at Ashvath, the familiar gray and blue swirls of the Bijali a welcome sight in this strange environment. He held up one of the rifles in his hands, saying, Investigating our current predicament would be ideal. I find one of these is relatively useful, if you’d like to use it.

 

[Plutoni]

ANGARAVANT

Metal began to sag inwards like taut paper suddenly made wet. It felt almost indulgent, this slow, scorching flexion of power, like stretching out a knotted muscle after deep sleep. No doubt Baskarmyna received these odd waves of pleasure in the destruction, a smooth, almost basking upward cadence as his attention slid away from her to his own work before him. Was he nearly through? But a millisecond warning of the sudden thought of light came just before a point of golden-orange metal and a deep buzzing vibration appeared upon the metal between his fists. He sent a surprised flash of almost chiding alarm on instinct, suddenly reminded that this was indeed nothing less than a Gaida on the other side of the door, and one with her laser levelled precisely at his chest. But he simply continued to watch the now travelling line as it cut through steel, wariness slowly ebbing as the control in which it was wielded grew ever more clear. He transmitted to his newfound kin the vague implications of his own preference to ideally remain in one piece as he opened his fingers, lifted the pressure and stepped back into the corridor to appraise his handiwork. The upper-central half of the door was now little more than a glowing, blistered sheet of molten slag, and a white-hot laser-trail from the other side took it strip by strip to begin to peel away. He sent all of this sensorium data to Baskarmyna, almost in search of her approval, though minus his own resigned twinge of annoyance that credit would ultimately have to be shared, and he paused to deliberate for a moment on what to do next. Angaravant almost shrugged to himself, then - sometimes, after all, a little brute force was simply the answer. He eyed up the point in the sagging metal just below the glowing outlines of the laser, sunk his fingers into the rend, and began to tear.

 

[Cirno]

Baskarmyna

Baskarmyna responds to her martial brother's warning with a twitter-chitter of bright confidence. She pauses, beam switching off as Angaravant opens in her mind's eye a full sense of how much--compressional stress, temperature differential, warped beyond ability to retract--he has compromised this supposed barrier between them. The material barely ekes out a sound before his fingers are through. The protesting wheeze shifts as he tears the opening wider, undaunted by the patchwork state of the metal. She gives a whistle of warm green admiration.

Baskarmyna adjusts her grip on the alien desecrator. They'd find some use or another for the creature.

She dips her head into view once there's a sufficient gap to pass through. She warbles her elation at her great martial brother, only a brief stutter in her transmission before she projects questions about what to do with this alien thing, what path to take, whether any other Bandi are awake.

He, with his golden claws and crimson arms, bears a broken crown and a patina of rust. And Angaravant is reflected in the black of her domed helm.

 

[Grey]

• Fahardrin & Ashvath
• Chalaseek
• Baskarmyna & Angaravant

• 
  You can sense the approach of more hostiles, their minds strapped and bent toward violence over all other concerns.
  They are coming from behind you, but the way ahead seems clear enough to proceed and loop behind them, depending on how this place is laid out.
  Perhaps the entity that woke you can still be reached for support using your broad-range datalinks?
  
• 
  You quickly proceed through the corridors and vents, burning anything that throbs and bulges from the walls, as the shrieking of the battleforms follows you.
  
  You emerge into the hangar where the tendrils have barely crept further than the door, leaving a trio of pristine short-range carriers sitting on their landing pads.
  Not good enough to get you all the way to the Homeworld or one of the main temples, but enough to get you off this creature.
  
• 
  The door out of the way, you are reunited.
  But where next, and is it worth keeping the corpse in Baskarmyna's hands?
  You have no doubt more enemies are on their way, as the klaxons wail alarm.
  Perhaps the mysterious force that awoke you could be compelled to provide directions?
  Angaravant can sense the superheated fuel and coolant behind the ways, and has a sense at least of where the power source for this facility is. Following these veins should lead to exit, albeit not an ideal one.