PORT: MEODRIOTOPE

[returnjourney]

PORT: MEODRIOTOPE

Feb 11, 2022 – Feb 13, 2022
Welcome to Meodriotope! (Try spelling that without double-checking. I double-dog dare you.) This is our first port. Ports are, as the name implies, a visit to "shore", which can be just about any planet in the Oos Galaxy. This time, the Peregrine is dropping in on a flower-gathering errand, but it's a good opportunity for characters to stretch their legs.

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

For some passengers, this will be the first time they've touched land in almost forty days. Is it unusual, stepping down onto solid ground and breathing cool, fresh air? Is it frightening, to look upon the sea of blue grass and pale sky and realize you have never been so far from home? Is it exciting? Awe-inspiring? Gross, because who likes the outdoors anyway?

Of course, not everyone will disembark. Inmates cannot leave the ship without a warden as escort, and wardens will be 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. Camp

There'd be a lot of walking without the ATVs, so the Navarch has deployed both vehicles to serve as transport and support for housing. The campsites, once set up, look very much like regular Earth camping — turns out at some point in human development, people pretty much perfected what a rapid set-up/rapid tear-down camp can be, give or take some aesthetic trappings. A sleeping bag is a sleeping bag. A camp stove is a camp stove. It's just cooler when it's made of sleek white metal with designer rounded edges and blue lighting, and all.

There are four tents set up, each sleeping 4-6 people, so even if everyone decided to camp, it won't be too crowded. They are equipped with a solar-air tube that can generate power from sunlight, so they are climate controlled and have built-in lighting. An additional tent serves as a mess tent, though you'll all be eating on little folding chairs. Plastic trunks store rations. Those who want a bit of local fare will have to work for it.

Wardens also have a locked toolbox containing a hatchet, a firestarter, and a pair of utility knives. Should be handy for setting up a campfire at night. Shame no one picked up marshmallows from the commissary; that would have been nice.

3. [Mis]adventuring

There's plenty to see out in the world of Meodriotope:

Burrowing holes — Beware your ankles: the fields are home to colonies of littari, rabbit-like creatures the size of labradors. They leave large holes that are easy to fall into, if you're not watching where you step. This time of year, they usually stay deep in their warrens, but occasionally they pop up to smell the wind and scavenge for edible plants in the thick grasses. They're largely harmless, preferring to flee when possible, but they may go for the calves with their large, blunt teeth when cornered or struck. (They also taste good with mint sauce.)

Lover's Kiss — These little plants can be difficult to find, as they thrive under the grasses' shade, but when you find one, you find a lot of them. Each vine has fifty or more bright, red blooms, pinched at the sides and bowed in the middle like a pair of juicy lips. The Navarch requests that they be harvested; they're used in medicines on a neighboring planet and the Admiralty has asked the Peregrine to pick some up while we're in the area. Be careful, though: if you pluck them too roughly, they'll explode, and the red markings take weeks to wear off skin, even with dutiful scrubbing.

The Fishwives' Village — Five hours west is a small village close to the shore, home to...well, who knows if they're wives, but they have fish heads and bodies with humanoid arms and legs, and they wear little robes. Kind of like reverse mermaids. They are quite small, barely reaching four feet tall, and they speak their own language, leaving communication to little gesticulations and gestures. They live in small stone huts, arranged in concentric circles with a small market in the middle, and barter roast seafood, handicrafts, crabgrass beer, and small tools for off-world goods. Most of their culture seems to revolve around fishing and goods made of woven grasses. The fishwives are fussy about outsiders and carry little fishing spears when they visit, just in case.

The Shoreline — Long, long, long coastlines looking out at the sea, with beaches made up of smooth stones. There are plenty of interesting sea creatures to see in the rocky tide pools, but try not to handle anything indiscriminately (many things bite and some of those things are venomous). You can walk a long way out before the water gets deep, but be careful and make sure you aren't too far out when the tide comes in.

Rock Formations — Weathered in fascinating shapes from centuries of storms and high winds, these formations curl across the southeastern plains. They make swooping sounds when the wind passes through them, like deep and echoing woodwinds. Suneoff, resembling cat-sized mudskippers, dwell in the formations' shadow, while the bat-like knassu nest in the better protected crannies.

4. A Very Wet Last Day

Looks like we didn't manage to miss the rain. The storm clouds on the horizon take their sweet time to arrive, but on the last full day before departure, wardens and inmates will wake to the sound of heavy rain on the roofs of their tents. For some, it may be a struggle to leave the warm, dry confines of the tent to venture into rain. It's the kind that comes down relentlessly, soaking you to the skin within minutes, and cold to boot.

To make matters worse, the rain has transformed the long grasses into a veritable slip-n-slide. Step too quickly and you might find yourself shooting down a sloping hill, or at the very least on your ass. Visibility drops to barely twenty feet ahead.

Packing up in this? Ugh. We have to be back on the ship by nightfall! Anyone who isn't aboard gets left behind.

Comments

[dealwiththe]

“I imagine hurting is part of the point,” Lucifer says offhandedly, relieving Rhys of the handcuffs and restraining him with them. Because Rhys chose not to fight, he won’t be harmed - Lucifer will simply plop him down near Waver to wait for backup.

Then he turns to Travis.

“We really have to stop meeting like this, Mister Touchdown.”

[rank1]

Travis ignores Waver. That fight's over. Travis just stands here, waiting, openly sizing up the situation.

"Can't be helped," he says, expression hard. Feet wide, shoulders loose. Ready. "Not a lot of wardens looking to fill my dance card."

[dealwiththe]

"I can't imagine why," Lucifer mutters, rolling his eyes. And yet, he unbuttons his jacket, giving himself more freedom to move.

"Do you have any brothers, Travis?" he asks suddenly.

[rank1]

Travis’s expression shifts — open confusion, unguarded intrigue, even as his posture remains ready. The fuck is this?

“Yeah. A twin. Why?”

[dealwiththe]

Something flashes momentarily in Lucifer's expression, at the word twin. But - that's not something he's quite prepared to dig into right now. Whatever it is, it gets pushed aside immediately.

"Well, maybe you'll understand, then. Or maybe not, if you've got a great relationship with your brother," he says carefully. "My oldest brother - he liked to call himself "God's greatest warrior" - I was the one who got kicked out of Heaven for pride, but he got to strut around like a ginormous prick, boasting about being undefeated? It felt like a sick joke."

He never takes his eyes off Travis, both to gauge his reaction, but also to, you know. Make sure he's not going to try and take a pot-shot.

"I knew he could probably kick my arse but I thought if anyone should try to take him down a notch, it should be me. At least prove he was no better than me - just as petty and prideful. I managed to goad him into a couple of fights, but he always backed off before taking it too far. Like a coward."

not here while here

[smugreport]

[ Rhys makes an audible "Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuhg" ]

[rank1]

A great relationship. Imagine living that way: calling the guy up on a random Sunday to shoot the shit and gripe about the coming work week while meandering his motel room. Making dinner plans. Asking how Mom is.

No, Travis doesn’t have that. Nor is Henry anything like this guy’s brother — well, maybe a little. There’s nuance.

But he’s not interested in any appeal, or at least there isn’t time for it now, when it stands between him and a fight. His empty fingers flex. God, he wishes he had a sword. It’d feel like a better standoff that way.

“Sounds about right,” he shoots back, with a dramatic shrug. “We doing this?”

[dealwiththe]

Lucifer sighs. He's just not going to let this drop. Well, he told the story but perhaps the point needs to be made in another way. Fine.

"You're about to wind up as unsatisfied as I was," he says simply. "But very well. Have you figured out the gun, or are you going to drop it and try me at hand-to-hand?"

[rank1]

“I’m already satisfied,” he replies. He gestures broadly with the gun, which at this point feels like a glorified club, given how stumped he is on making it work. “Let’s do hand to hand, unless you’ve got a sword you could lend me.”

Unlikely, but worth putting out there.

[dealwiththe]

"What you see is what you get, I'm afraid," Lucifer says easily, his hands coming up as he slips into a fighting stance - with ease. Living for thousands of years means he's picked up some skills, though he'd be the first to admit that Amenadiel was always the better fighter - he practiced more.

"Put a few holes in my shirt, or chuck the gun and let's get on with it."

[rank1]

“Cool.”

Travis shoves the gun into his back pocket. Hand to hand with the Devil, why not. If there was ever a reason to train until he felt like he might just expire on the spot and then picked himself up to carry on, this might as well be it.

He moves forward to greet Lucifer with a swing.

[dealwiththe]

Lucifer dodges the punch easily, guessing that allowing Travis to land a blow and ignoring it might offend the young man's sensibilities in some way. He aims his own open-handed blow at Travis's kidney. If he's as good as he claims to be, he can dodge. If not, Lucifer will accomplish his goal of incapacitating him and getting the gun from him.

[rank1]

He is good, and having warmed up with a day of running around and curb stomping Waver, it's all too easy to slip into the motions of a real fight. It's a parry instead of a block: he's got to minimize damage on his own end, seeing a, so a quick step to the side and a hand to the top of Lucifer's wrist to redirect it away, letting Lucifer's momentum carry through. Goodbye, balance. Feels like magic every time.

"Barnes already tried that," he says, grinning. (Love a good shittalking moment.)

[dealwiththe]

Lucifer catches his balance, spinning around to aim a few quick blows at Travis's upper body. He's not even winded. He's beaten down a room full of men with semi-automatic guns without breaking a sweat - it'd take more than that to knock him over.

Travis is good, though. So he's not all hot air, which is easy to assume about someone who wears anime girl t-shirts.

"You realize I'm doing you a favor, here," he points out, aiming a sweeping kick in an attempt to knock Travis's legs out from under him.

[rank1]

Travis ducks and steps back, and the last one glances off with a sharpness that has him momentarily gritting his teeth before breaking out into a grin. Finally, he thinks, someone who is going to take a fight seriously on skill. He avoids that kick by taken his weight off his feet entirely –– he just flips backwards out of the way, surprisingly agile.

"Yeah? How so?" Travis replies as he rights himself.

[dealwiththe]

A flip. Not bad. Lucifer could end this quickly - and will, if he needs to. He's aware that there's almost certainly another inmate driving away in an ATV right now, but there aren't many places they can go, and he can literally fly, so letting them get a head start isn't a big deal.

He gestures at Travis, beckoning him, try me.

"I'm giving you what you want," he points out. "So, you'll owe me one after this."

[rank1]

"Prison debt," Travis replies, with a grim laugh. "Hate to find out what that is, but I'll take it."

He surges forward with knee towards the gut.

[dealwiththe]

"Far worse than that. A debt to the Devil," Lucifer says, perfectly willing to play up the creep factor, knowing full well it's not that sinister.

The blow comes, and it connects, and Lucifer doubles over, seemingly taken off-guard. Before Travis pulls away again, however, Lucifer rushes him, aiming for his solar plexus.

[rank1]

"Nice," Travis replies, immediately before taking that hit. The pain sucks ass, of course, but he can grit his teeth through that after all the worse shit he's been through. What's harder to ignore is getting winded, all the air pushed out of him.

Fuck.

[dealwiththe]

His blow connects, and Lucifer presses his advantage, attempting to wrestle Travis to the ground before he can catch his breath again - and most important, to get the gun off him. Just because he can't use it, doesn't mean he should have it in the first place.

He's not trying to injure Travis, but if he gets banged up a bit in the struggle, that's on him.

[rank1]

Always a class act, Travis, a wheezing mess as he's wrestled down, grabs Lucifer by the front of his shirt and jams a foot against Lucifer's beltline. Wanna play "airplane", Lucifer? Travis is more than happy to flip you over right over his head in the process.

[dealwiththe]

Lucifer lets the momentum carry him, for just a moment - but as he does so, he unfurls his wings, all glorious twelve feet or so of them, allowing him to land gracefully on his feet.

So, more like "angel" than "airplane".

And then he plucks Travis up, carrying him into the air.

"Play time is over," he mutters. "I could do this for hours, but I need to find the stolen ATV. Ready to cry uncle?"

[rank1]

If he wasn't already stunned, being hauled into the sky would do it. Cool. Assuming he doesn't, you know, get dropped to his death or something. Can wardens do that?

"You think I've got her lojacked?" Travis shoots back as he drags together his breath, eyes cast down at the ground. "She took off without us!"

[dealwiththe]

"So Jack is your third," Lucifer says. "Good to know."

Can wardens drop inmates to their deaths? Would Lucifer do it, regardless?

Well, no. He would not. But he's not above scaring the shit out of someone. He flies higher, his grip on Travis tight. "Hm. Tracks aren't difficult to follow. Ah - there she is. All right, it's been fun, but time to get you squared away."

Oh, did his grip almost slip? Sorry about that.

[rank1]

Travis feels his nuts retract into his body at the jolt of nearly falling. Or feeling like he was gonna fall, anyway. Who knows with Satan.

"Waver could have told you that in three seconds, but thanks for the scare, asshole!" Travis shouts, but it's not all bad. What a fucking view, this high.