PORT: THE SKY-CITY OF BHUJERBA

[returnjourney]

PORT: THE SKY-CITY OF BHUJERBA

May 4th, 2022 – May 11th, 2022
Welcome, bhadra, to the city-state of Bhujerba! The Peregrine touches down on May 4th, in a proper port — airships are the only way on and off the city, so the Aerodrome is a busy and bustling place. As a sky-city built on a mountainous structure floating ten thousand feet above the ground, it has little in the way of wilderness, but it has a sprawling city with deep mines stretching down beneath it. Look down past the railings when the thick clouds part and you'll see the world below; look up and you'll see great blue crystalline structures, a mark of the deep magicks that keep the city in the sky.

The full OOC write-up for the port is here. If you have any questions about the event, please ask here.

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1. Disembarking

It's been months since the ship made port, but whether it's been days or months, it's always exciting to see somewhere new. The Aerodrome is thriving with people, passenger ships and merchant ships and military ships alike making berth in the docks, all contributing to the rivers of people pouring in and out of the building. The sounds of the crowd bounce around the vaulted ceilings, humid tropical air hotter still for the press of bodies everywhere. Navigating the crowds takes a certain confidence, lest you get knocked aside by a burly creature carrying a crate on his back, or separated from your companions by a throng of chattering flight stewardesses.

Of course, not everyone will disembark. Inmates cannot leave the ship without a warden as escort, and wardens are responsible for inmates in port — they don't have to be glued to each others' sides, of course, but it's harder to make trouble under a watchful eye.

2. The Cloudborne Tavern

Thanks to the Navarch, there are rooms booked in the Cloudborne for passengers who do not want to trek back and forth from the Peregrine. Staying above a busy and bustling tavern isn't always the most restful affair, of course, given there isn't really a closing hour, but it certainly makes for a life experience.

The tavern below is full of colourful characters, drawn by the ludicrously cheap pints. It isn't uncommon for people to get soundly drunk, but a watchful Seeq keeps an eye out on the place: get too rowdy or violent and you might find yourself thrown out on your ass.

3. The Lhusu Mines

Though the mines are closed, there's plenty to do in the labyrinthine tunnels winding deep into the mountain.

The Paling — Talk with the locals in the taverns and on the streets and you might notice a frequent topic of conversation: the paling's fall. The paling was a Crystal used to create a magick barrier that kept fiends at bay in the mines, so that the miners could work safely. However, something — or someone — has stripped the paling of its magickal energy, and now the fiends have overrun the abandoned tunnels. Sometimes they even make their way out and attack the locals. It is imperative that some brave hero makes their way deep into the tunnels, finds the paling, and recharges its magick power. But so far no one has been up to the task...

Hunting Marks — A bulletin board in the Cloudborne has posters for bounties, seeking hunters willing to deal with the fiends that spill out of the mines. Many are for looking for materials, such as bat fangs fresh from the jaws of the massive, four-winged bats, or bone fragments from the undead skeletons. Or, for the particularly ambitious: the mighty Nidhogg, a colossal snake with a highly venomous tail spike. A prize awaits the first to return with its skin!

Filthy Pirates! — Not everyone ventures in to mop up trouble for the locals: the mines are a considerable draw to those who are happy to risk the fiends for the chance to loot the goods left behind. Many people have fallen in these attempts, leaving gil, armor, weaponry and other goods strewn through the depths. Be careful, though: not all treasure is as it seems.

4. Shopping!

The marketplace is as busy as the Aerodrome, with massive crowds clustered around covered tents, wooden booths, and humble cloths laid out on the stone floor, all bearing incredible wares. The atmosphere is raucous: people haggling boisterously, children scampering between adults' legs, people hollering for others to move, move, as they shove their way through with carts of purchases or goods for sale.

Food is plentiful: turnips and onions are particularly popular, given the season, and tomatoes fetch a high price. Street food vendors sell stewed cockatrice (chicken-esque!), chunks of moist cactus, flank steaks on sticks, and something aptly called "bacon bread".

And, given the war going on and fiends loose in the world, there is no short supply of weaponry and armor. Swords, pikes, bows, axes, daggers, even a small number of rudimentary firearms, all available to those with ample coin. Armor is popular too, with artisans prepared to make it custom within a day or two — leather is affordable, but the price of metal could feed a laborer for a year.

Beware of pickpockets. Happy shopping!

Comments

[smugreport]

[ He should have stayed in the adjacent cabin that Misty had offered him, why had he come back to the bunks?? Oh right, all his stuff as here and he thought! He'd be alone!!

It was only for a second, too brief for Rhys's fear addled brain to register the details of what had been underneath the mask, but enough that he knows he's in some potentially serious trouble here.

He holds his hands out defensively in front of him, not too dissimilar from the last confrontation him and Tim had. ]

I didn't- I didn't see anything you didn't want me to see, man!

[ The briefest glimpse of a face (and he's actually kind of relieved there is just a face underneath that thing.) Eyes, mouth, nose...something else. Something else?! But not something he can remember. ]

[doppleman]

[ He's seen Rhys, like, around since that day. Even tried making a couple overtures at conversation, but Rhys is all twitchy and evasive more often than he isn't. And hey. Tim gets it. Whatever kind of history Jack had with this guy, it was bad enough for Rhys to fear this face.

(Fear. This. Face! he roars over the percussive din of gunshots, as the loading bay erupts into a scouring typhoon of laser fire and digi-clones and Nisha's ecstatic whooping as her bullets turn Legion grunt after Legion grunt into the thick red mist they turn into sometimes in low grav.)

Tim's gut does a flip. In the end he opts to just let his knees buckle rather than put himself through the futile spectacle of pretending they won't shake, and with that, he lets himself plop the short distance onto his butt right in front of Rhys's pod. In the pocket of his hoodie, something makes a quiet, liquidy sort of glug sound. His elbow's sunk into the meat of his thigh, his face pressed fully into the mask in his open palm.

He takes a deep, muffled breath, then finally sets to securing the clasps on his mask. ]

Sorry. [ Still muffled. ] Kinda been... freaking out a little bit.

[ When he lifts his face, he looks exactly as he normally does. Takes another big breath in through his nose, eyes closed, and a slow breath out. Really trying to feel it this time! ]

Look, it's—it's cool, y'know... if you did see anything. Not like I'm gonna choke your lights out, just for catching a glimpse, orrrr... whatever. [ An exhausted, kind of sad little giggle escapes from somewhere in his throat. ] I'm not Jack.

[smugreport]

Yeah...I-I'm getting that.

[ God, he feels like his heart is going to burst out of his chest with how hard and fast it's pumping. This whole encounter is definitely aging him like, at least 5 years. ]

But I didn't see anything. Mostly.

[ He's still pressed up into the back corner of his pod, wearily eyeing Tim and trying to believe him. To believe he really isn't Jack. As if Rhys isn't already reminding himself of that every time he catches a look at the guy. ]

....Wouldn't it be you know. Better? If you didn't wear the mask at all. It was kind of Jack's- Handsome Jack's whole brand.

[doppleman]

[ That particular turn of phrase punches a laugh out of Tim. It's mostly fine and not unhinged. ]

Yeeeaahhh-ha-ha-haaaa, you got that right, pumpkin. Do you ever.

[ Give him this much: Rhys seems to have this real talent for surprising him, knocking him juuuust enough off-balance that it diverts him from whatever awful trajectory his thoughts might be starting to take at any given point in time. Like trauma jai alai or something.

In this case, Tim's whole posture slowly unfurls until he's leaning back on his palms, like he's half-exasperated at a joke he's telling himself. He feels the heavy glass in his pocket shift on his stomach with the movement, threatening to topple out one side or the other. ]

Yeah, but, ummm, n-no, it's–s'complicated. Friggin' hate the thing, don't get me wrong, but I kkkkkinda need it, so... uh... guess it... wasn't actually that complicated, in the end. But hey check this out!

[ With a little too much eagerness and a lot of smug pleasure, Tim produces the bottle of madhu he'd purchased and then kindasorta snuck back onto the ship without really meaning to thanks to. You know. The aforementioned freakout. The bottle itself, stout with a slender neck ending in a cork the size of a Jakobs shotgun slug, is made of a rich, glossy clay in a color that matches Tim's memory of Miss Moxxi's hair. The label that surrounds its body appears handmade and in a language Tim can't read. ]

Yah-huh, it's... exactly what you think. [ A beat. ] Nnnnot sure I'm supposed to have this, now that I'm thinking about it.

[smugreport]

[ Any laugh out of that face feels borderline if not completely unhinged to Rhys, his face crunching up in discomfort as he continues to watch Tim. At least he can do that much now, right? Actually look at him for more than a glance.

Need it for what? he wants to ask as he continues to watch, but is quickly distracted by whatever it is that Tim pulls out of his hoodie.

Does Rhys flinch and stiffen at the motion of a concealed something being taken out, though? Do his eyes widen in a moment of pure panic? Absolutely. ]

Don-!!! Oh.

[ It's just a fucking bottle god!!! (WHAT IF IT'S POISON- no, no bad Rhys brain! It's obviously alcohol or something like it.) ]

H-hhhow did you get that past your warden?

[doppleman]

[ There's something about Tim's demeanor that goes a little hangdog in response to what feels like an accusation. ]

Not on purpose, tell you that much! Not... totally on purpose. Just kinda, you know. Happened. This guy was like heyyy, here ya go! and I was like hey, awesome! and I was gonna offer Misty some for being such a badass earlier, buuuut I, uh—

[ He glances down, choosing to occupy himself with starting to wrestle the cork. It's none too easy, like anything ever is. ]

—had to. Go. Away. From there. Really fast. So.

[ He peers up and takes in the sight of Rhys, still crammed all the way into the back of his pod, and quirks a brow. ]

...You're totes not gonna tattle on me, though.

[smugreport]

[ Funnily enough Rhys's concern comes more from the first thought that comes to mind which is "did he hurt and or kill Misty" (with the second part of that being "am I next?") Not because he cares if an inmate is sneaking contraband on board or not. ]

Hey, you don't have to make excuses to me. My lips? Sealed.

[ And he does the classic zipping up lips and throwing away the key motion to indicate he means it. Even though he is definitely the snitching type, he doesn't want that to be his reputation. Getting Theo caught already paid off, and he doesn't want to overplay his hand. ]

Go enjoy the luxury of getting totally wasted, hah.

[doppleman]

Y—wait. Really? Really.

[ Tim squints, skeptical. ]

Well, you're, you're at least gonna bank this for later, right, like oh, haha, I looked the other way before, now you gotta put your ass on the line for me, do a job, maybe whack somebody, that sorta thing?

[ His hands have paused in their work, cybernetic thumb and forefinger ringed loosely around the neck of the bottle, just beneath the cork. ]

Were you ever Hyperion material, buddy?

[ There's really nothing pejorative about the question at all. It actually sounds a little impressed. ]

[smugreport]

[ The look of anxious reluctance Rhys has been wearing up until now quickly drops in favor of a scowl at that. He just doesn't want trouble from Tim, specifically! He hasn't gotten soft, or anything.

...Has he? ]

First of all excuse you. Second of all it's not like I can't try and make you work for your silence, but I've been nearly strangled to death by Handsome Jack more than enough for one lifetime- or second...lifetime. Nevermind! If you want problems I can give you problems but I don't want problems from you, okay?

[doppleman]

[ Is it fucked up that the pique and veiled threats make him feel more at home here than anything up to this point? ]

Pffft, you know how hard you gotta work to actually strangle somebody with your bare hands? Shit, can't even... get this frigging... [ a growl of effort as he's returned to the cork ] sunnova—

[ Because they do, and it's funny how visibly relaxed he is when he next gives the cork a rest, shoulders loose and leaning casually, now, against the opening of Rhys's pod. ]

Anyway, you know it's not a bad thing, right? Not being, y'know, completely irredeemably evil.

[ padmeface.jpg ]

Uh, you–you do know that... right.

[ Though hey, he has to figure Rhys is here for a reason. ]

[smugreport]

[ Maybe not bare but Rhys knows how easily a robot arm can get a good grip around the ol' neck, and he's sure Tims' hand could do an equal amount of damage. How badly does he want to test his luck here? What's worth it? ]

Just because I'm not looking to be the next Jack doesn't mean I'm someone you want to mess with.

[ It doesn't mean he wants to be out there, declawed and soft bellied once he gets back to business. He doesn't want to lose his edge. It is worth it to push just a little, to make sure he's not getting rusty... ]

And if- if anything, you're the one who shouldn't want to make an enemy of me, right? I'm the guy who knows all about the outside.

[doppleman]

[ He gives Edgelord McGee here a look like "really?" but the stated desire to not be Jack is still music to his ears and he can't quite suppress a little nod of approval.

Can't, uh... can't help but notice he's had no real objection to the evil part specifically, but... you know what, who's Timothy to judge? Everybody's looking out for themselves. This moment's no exception.

Feels kinda good. Feels normal.

It's fucked up, right? Whatever. Not important. ]

Mkaaaay, so... you're saying I should wanna make a friend outta you instead, that it?

[ He fixes Rhys with the stupidest, most radiantly winsome grin and slooowly raises the bottle into his line of sight. He's this close to batting his eyelashes. ]

Huh? Huuuuhh?

[ Handsomeness, don't fail him now! ]

And we both hate Jack! We've already got so much in common.

[smugreport]

"Friend" is a strong word.

[ However, that's a damn good offer. It's not like he's been complaining since he got here about how badly he could use a drink, or anything. Though there's the immediate worry of letting himself be inhibited around Tim. ]

And hating Jack is a really, really low bar. Everyone and their cousin hates Jack. But...

[ Faint alarm bells go off with the warning Hyperion sleeper agents. ]

Okay you have to do one thing first.

[doppleman]

All right, shoot.

[ Just like that. Somehow it's that easy. ]

...No weird stuff.

[smugreport]

[ Eyes narrowing at that last bit...what would he ask that's weird he's not weird! ]

Say uh- say like "disengage sleeper assassin mode" or something.

[doppleman]

[ Timothy fully cracks the fuck up. It's different from Jack's. It isn't mocking—okay it totally is just a little bit, but that's fully deserved. But it's not cruel. ]

Y-you jus–oh man. YouOKAY FIRST OF ALL, how's a sleeper assassin gonna turn off their kill-o-matic active assassin mode just by saying [ this is his "I'm a big bad assassin" voice ] disengage sleeper assassin mode, like how is that not the least effective sleeper agent protocol in the history of...

[ All at once, Tim's expression schools itself into something else, something wide-eyed and wholly neutral, and hangs there in silence for several seconds. A slate wiped clean.

When next he speaks, his voice comes out pleasantly mechanical, hollow, so reminiscent of the Hyperion lady it's unsettling— ]

Doppelganger 21-C, Sleeper Protocol...

[ —until it isn't. Until Tim's face and voice both buckle under the strain of not laughing. ]

...disen[ UNCONTROLLABLE SNORT ]gaGED.

[smugreport]

Oh, shut up!

[ The scowl is back in full force. ]

It's a totally valid concern! I thought you'd be activated by Jacks voice, alright? It's totally valid and it's also totally genius. It just so happens, by luck that you're not programmed to kill with a code word or whatever.

[ There's a silver lining to this humiliation at least (though Rhys would be pressed to see it that way) and it's that the mood relaxes somewhat. That tense, prey instinct to sit still and wait for the predator to go away is practically lifted. in the face of Rhys's indignity. ]

[doppleman]

[ Why, are you activated by Jack's voice? Tim thinks about asking, but he's not sure of what his tone will be so he wisely elects to keep a lid on that particular bit of sass.

Instead he just shakes his head, still intermittently snickering, and gives up his efforts for the time being. He's pretty sure he felt the cork move, at least. Like, a little bit. ]

I dunno; normally I'd be pointing out the overblown way people talk about Jack all the time—like he was some kinda omnipotent tech wizard or something—but that was before I found out he rigged an entire friggin' casino to his vitals, so you know what? Your concerns are duly noted.

Anyway, c'mere and put that spiffy bionic arm of yours to good use for a second, wouldja, sugarplum?

[ He pauses midway through proffering the bottle to Rhys to grimace. ]

Eegh... sorry. It's sometimes—we were talking about Jack, so it just. Kinda. You know.

[smugreport]

[ Rhys is going to totally ignore the visceral feeling being called that particular petname with that face and that voice is causing him, because like he keeps saying, he's over this. That's a new one is all his brain helpfully supplies.

Focus on something else, like how they shouldn't be trying to pry open a bottle of contraband out in the semi-open. ]

...Okay, but not here, someone could walk in. There's at least one warden who stays here permanently and I'm already on his bad side.

[doppleman]

[ With an agreeable shrug Tim clambers to his feet, his earlier suffocating fear forgotten. ]

Wha–who, the boy scout? Dang, musta biffed that one pretty good, huh? Didn't think it was easy to piss that guy off.

[ Or maybe it's that, ironically, Tim's never been a stellar judge of character. Not the way normal people are supposed to be, anyway.

He slides his prize back into the pocket of his sweatshirt and goes and grabs his jacket for good measure. Folds it primly over his arms in front of him, tries not to snicker to himself when he thinks he can just convince the wardens he's hiding a boner instead of contraband, recollects his awkward school years, and immediately becomes a little depressed at the reminder of who he used to be.

What can he say? He contains multitudes. ]

Welp. Llllead on, pumpkin.

[smugreport]

I kinda maybe physicallyassaultedhimandgavehimheadtrauma. It's not like I'm not used to people holding grudges, but in business they at least do it with a smile.

[ He says this as he scoots along the pod wall furthest from Tim and to the entrance, still giving the man a wide berth.

He only makes it to his feet and half a step before he half turns back. ]

Y-

[ A second to recompose ]

You really have to stop that.

[doppleman]

Stop what.

[ Guileless. Kind of no thoughts head empty about it, to be honest. But, uh— ]

Uhhhhh, hoooold on though, back up for a second. You did whatnow? But–but, but like, you. Out there, just. What, bludgeoning wardens or whatever? Oookay, maybe you are Hyperion.

[ He's following Rhys. Tim doesn't know where. To get bludgeoned, maybe. He's pretty sure he can take this guy? But not 100%. A whole cybernetic arm has to be ahead of the curve compared to a hand. To this day, Tim's shocked this thing wasn't built with enough compression force to crush windpipes into powder. Just seems like it'd be on brand, is all. ]

Heh, you sure you're really tryin' to get out of here at all?

[ The question is punctuated with a mild, unconvincing chuckle. The kind that suggests he's giving something away. ]

[smugreport]

....Nevermind.

[ Sudden cold feet, he can't just say it. If it was actually Jack, sure, of course. He could tell him to never call him anything but "Mr. Strongfork, Kind of ATLAS" and so much more. But Tim? Telling him to stop that opens up a whole host of extra questions...doesn't it? Questions better left unasked.

Rhys leads, they've got a bit of a walk to the storage facility. He hasn't spent a lot of time in there, or any really, but he knows it's pretty big, with aisles they can hunker down in and crack open Tim's bottle. ]

Well, yeah. The whole bludgeoning things was supposed to lead into getting out of here. It just, a lot of things didn't go as planned. Besides, it was months ago.

[doppleman]

[ It's a pretty nice ship. A lot about Helios had been cutting edge for its time, but Jack had definitely made sacrifices to comfort and aesthetics where they were sure to not affect him in any meaningful way. An uncomfortable employee would always be motivated to do better, work harder, that was his logic, and although Tim really hates to admit it the Hyperion workforce never really proved him all that wrong.

They'd been so sure that the weakness lay solely with themselves. That Jack's position was something worth aspiring to instead of the origin of their hardships. They were all so sure.

Tim scoffs, only half at Rhys and his defense. ]

Wai-wait, so, am I getting this, you tried t—you, out of the clutches of these guys, who can, uh... pluck you from where you were in time and space on a friggin' whim, you decided it was a good idea to brute force your way to...? To what, even, freedom?

[ While his tone is pessimistic to be sure, it's not... totally mocking. A part of him is genuinely curious. ]

Do you even know where we are?

[ It's a big af six galaxies. ]

[smugreport]

Yeah? It sounded better in theory, okay? Everyone on this ship was new, so no one knew the rules. It was worth a shot.

[ It wasn't, really. Not for all the inconveniences that came in its wake, all the effort he'd had to put into the fallout. But he's not going to confess that in front of a person he barely knows, and the face only drives his heckles up higher. ]

Almost at the center axis. Haven't you been here over a month? I know the ship is too big but it's not that big.