Camping Area (Mort, Koyel, Caroline, Wolf)

The others rose and started moving towards the inn so Wolf joined them, automatically taking position on the left side of the group and gaining an insight into Qorisayane politics and nanites as they walked.

The presence of nanites in Qorisayane soil sounded like a very good reason for a megacorp to get interested. "Aside from making th'land more fertile, d'you know of anything else th'nanites are capable of? Something that might be a lot more valuable than crop yields? I'm guessing that they can't just take th'nanites t'Earth or they would've done so. Maybe they don't like Earth soils, maybe they can't replicate..." he waved a hand dismissively, "whatever th'reason, they have no choice but t'use Qorisayane farmlands. Obviously, the crops y've mentioned aren't the answer since they're either easy t'replicate or not particularly sought after... which raises th'very interesting question: what're they really doing? There's gotta be something they're hiding."

(Lobby- Dining Area Hazel, Hilda, Felix, Leslie, et al)

"I think I have just the thing for you," Hazel said as she rummaged around in her pockets, finally pulling out what looked like a drop of water suspended in midair, with the finest of filaments around it. "Dragon tear, tied with unicorn hair. It's a pretty good warding amulet- if there's any evil around, you'll be protected."

She offered it to Leslie. "Go on, take it. Don't worry about me, I've got a spare. Being friends with magical creatures is great when it comes to getting your hands on oddball ingredients."

Lobby: Dining Area

Hilda eyed Hazel's amulet with interest. "You're friends... with a dragon?" She inferred, listening to the young witch. "How did you tame it? Those things eat anything they get their claws on."

"If anything, you're rather lucky," She went on, before taking another sip of her drink. "Most magical creatures I met were not in the mood to make friends. Quite the contrary." She shrugged. "What a pity."

She turned to the other three women. She didn't understand half of what characters or people they were talking about, but at least their situation was more or less clear. "Glad to know he is stepping up to the challenge on his own. When the higher powers fail, it's up up to the smaller people to take care of themselves." She answered.

"As for the other thing..." Hild thought for a moment before she went on. "I don't know much either. I arrived this morning, like you. But I saw the woods surrounding the inn walking up here. Really pretty, and didn't seem to have anything dangerous lurking around. Perfect to go for a stroll, if you ask me." She took another sip of her drink. "What do you think?"

Edited by Pyxo on Apr 13th 2022 at 3:04:43 PM

Lobby: Dining Area (Leslie, Liz, Jean; Hazel, Felix; Hilda)

Liz perked up at Hilda's mention of the forest. "Wait, like an actual forest? With actual trees that aren't just oversized creosote bushes?"

"Have you never seen a forest before?" Jean asked.

"I think I've left Diamondback Ridge exactly once, and Santa Fe isn't exactly a dramatic change of scenery."

Leslie took Hazel's offered trinket. "I...wow. Thank you."

Liz rolled her eyes. "I guess we just believe in dragons and unicorns now."

Leslie slowly set her menu down and turned to face her sister. "Stop being a pest," she said in Japanese. "I know I raised you better than this."

"Why do you care anyway? If things get tough, you can just uproot our lives again."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, let's see. You gave our trust password to someone I've never met, beat up Samara's mom in front of our apartment, and whisked us off to live with a bunch of strangers in an unlabeled compound on the edge of town!"

"You're right. I'm sorry I didn't think about what an inconvenience it was for you when I saved your life from a supervillain."

"I never asked for any of this!"

"Neither did I! But that's life. You play the hand you're dealt."

"Except I got dealt the hand, and you're the one playing it!"

At that moment, a waiter arrived to take the newcomers' orders.

"Forget it," Liz growled in English, tossing her menu on the table. "I'm not hungry." She roughly stood up and stormed out of the dining room.

Jean watched her leave. "Are you gonna go after her?"

Leslie sighed. "No. She's...had a rough 24 hours, and I remember what I was like at her age. She needs some time to cool off." She turned to her new acquaintances. "I'm sorry you had to see that. I, uh...I don't suppose any of you understood that conversation, did you?"

Edited by apocalemur on May 24th 2022 at 12:23:17 PM

[Camping Area —> Lobby: Dining Area (Mort, Koyel, Caroline; Wolf; Leslie, Liz, Jean; Hazel, Felix; Hilda)]

Caroline closed her eyes and sighed. "Whatever it is," she said, "I doubt we'll know until we actually get eyes in the farms they're working on. Which is why we hired Koyel."

"Caroline and Aseyu," Koyel said, "ain't exactly puttin' calluses on their fingers..."

Koyel seemed to have struck a nerve in Caroline, though not a deep one. Politely but firmly, she said, "being an artist isn't just drawing characters in a sunny apartment, Koyel."

Koyel frowned apologetically and said, "sure it ain't. All I meant by that your groups didn't have folks who could walk onto a farm sayin' they were a laborer, and be believed."

It was Mort who added, "and it's not like either of you would have gotten Thonomel and his, uh, interesting family either."

"That is," Caroline granted, "why we hired you."

The conversation petered off from here, yet there did seem to be a subtle line drawn. On one side were Koyel and Mortimer. Separated by light-years, yet with a mutual understanding that Caroline and this Aseyu woman would never grasp. There was no enmity there, simply a chasm they were fated to talk across, even as they worked together.

With that, the group made their way into the dining hall. Mort made for a jukebox in the corner, leaning the SMG's locked hard case against a nearby wall, but he scanned the group already there, measuring them up. There was an imposing woman in black armor, a few years younger than Mort or Caroline^note Hilda. She reminded Mort of the Qorisayane clanswoman he'd had the pleasure, or sometimes displeasure, of meeting. At least her demeanor seemed amiable, no obvious sign of the nastiness that came with some noble types. An archetypal witch with a cat^note Hazel, Felix; seemed more like Caroline's scene than his. Two women^note Leslie, Jean whose fashion subtly suggested that they belonged in Wolf's time, rather than Mort's own, and the girl that seemed to be one's daughter^note Liz, who'd brushed by them, clearly doing what teenagers will do. Not the strangest crew he'd seen.

Koyel had no context and was just rolling with things as they happened, as he had been ever since that riverboat had passed out of his home province. Like Mort, he measured Hilda as some sort of Clanswoman, and he was slightly intrigued by the odd little black furred creature. The rest were just more strange foreigners.

Mortimer had been right about one thing. Caroline's first goal was to pet the cat. However, she also recognized that the two women were a bit out of sorts from the teenager storming off. So, with a friendly smile, she gently approached Hazel and Felix. With a note of apology, she said, "I hope I'm not interrupting, but..." she nodded at Felix, subtly held out her hands to offer head scritches, and said, "may I?"

Edited by KillerClowns on May 10th 2022 at 7:20:26 AM

Hralia: Inn, lobby, dining area.

Hralia had, evidently, taken a wrong turn at some point if the sudden inexplicable change in architecture and décor is any indication. She knows how absorbed she can be in whatever project or engineering problem had grabbed her attention that day, often to the exclusion of her surroundings, but she likes to think she's not that absentminded. What once had been the metal-and-concrete halls and maintenance tunnels of Twilight City had given way to... a hotel? The shift in background ambiance is in truth far more jarring to a species like hers who place more importance on hearing than sight. No more motor hums or rattles or dripping water, both replaced by the clatter of dishes and indistinct speech, meanwhile the smell of frying grease and a plethora of other food scents greet her keen nostrils, some familiar, some very much not. This place isn't on any of the maps she'd committed to memory, and she knows of no plans for new additions that match it, certainly not one with a dining area of the sort this seems to be.

Visually, the place seems to adhere to an aesthetically-focused old Earth style, from what she remembers of the historical files she'd looked up and been shown growing up. Wood and plaster and carpet, quite spacious as well. There's nothing in the colony like this to her knowledge—it's all utilitarian and often claustrophobic, with even lodging and personal quarters having little in the way of aesthetic bells and whistles, as on-site engineers like herself don't often have the time or space for such things.

Stranger still are the occupants of this new space, who soon come into view as she gingerly explores. Human, it seems, with not a divergent, augment, or other alien among them, at least none that she can recognize, though one is quite small; is that normal? They wear all manner of clothing, with little in the way of fatigues or work uniforms like her own. One is even adorned in what seems to be primitive plate armor, and she questions the necessity of this. Hobbyist, perhaps.

Those present who are not Hralia, however, would see a furless purple-skinned quadrupedal form◊ rounding a corner, not entirely dissimilar in shape and proportion to an earth giraffe, standing at about 6'5 on padded hoof-like feet that splay under her weight. A long curved neck decorated with quill-like spines supports a sleek, jawless beaked head adorned with three hornlike protrusions atop a pale bony face, the largest of which sits in the middle, with the smallest behind it between a pair of large dish-like ears, and the second-smallest situated in front, on the bridge of the snout. Just beneath these horns are four sunken eyes tinged vibrant pink and set wide like an herbivore or other prey animal, darting about and examining the place in which she now finds herself, displaying a level of clear intellect as she glances back the way she came.

Further separating this creature from a wild animal, however, is what appears to be a grey-and-orange jumpsuit custom-fitted to her nonhumanoid body plan, evidently a work uniform of some description judging from scattered oil stains and armored padding on the knees and joints.

Resting around her neck, just above the shoulder blades, is a sort of mechanical harness made of metal and durable white plastic casing; attached to the back of it is a set of antenna and other assorted articulated instruments, while its sides are adorned with a pair of long, thin prosthetic arms, each tipped with plier-like claws, both sitting stowed against her body. Additionally, her two front-most horns seem to be prosthetic, made of that same white plastic, with wires connecting them to a pair of earbuds, which in turn connect via braided cable all the way down to the harness.

Hralia glances about the place, visibly confused but evidently largely ignorant to how alien she appears among present company. A long anteater-like tongue periodically pokes out from near the tip of her pointed snout where a mouth would be, as if tasting the air; her ears flick and swivel all the while.

She then speaks up to the person nearest, but rather than speech as anyone present would know it, the sound heard is a song uncannily similar to a woodwind instrument like a flute or ocarina, layered as if produced by two working in tandem. Those in a position to see it would notice the set of holes at the tip and along the rear edge of her center-most horn opening and closing in sequence with every note, only furthering the flute comparison.

Then, with just over a half-second of latency, a synthesized feminine-leaning androgynous voice rings out from the device resting on her shoulders to provide what is evidently a translation. "Excuse me, but where is this? I was just in the southwest maintenance tunnel, sector 12. I see no navigational markers as per regulation, either... with all due respect, this may present an issue."

As she says this, she can't help but note that her communications systems had been gently beeping a vaguely worrying error code into her earpiece: 'no access point found'. This will require investigation.

'person nearest' being whoever chooses to answer her first.

Edited by Chortleous on May 12th 2022 at 11:50:19 AM

[Lobby: Dining Area (Mort, Koyel, Caroline; Wolf; Leslie, Liz, Jean; Hazel, Felix; Hilda)]

"And I thought I was stuck-up," Felix commented as Jean stormed off in a grandiose display of temper.

"You're a cat- stuck-up is in the job description," Hazel responded. "Right after clawing my wand and bringing dead mice in the house." Felix's eyes got even narrower, if possible, but he didn't push it further. The two might have gone at it hammer and tongs, but at least they respected each other. "I am her age, I think. I get it," she told Leslie. "And while I'm not sure what exactly was said, the tone told me enough. But let's focus on the positives for now. New friends, and new stories."

"Dragons..." Felix said to Hilda. "Dragons come in all shapes, sizes, and personalities. Just like people. It's a mistake to generalize, and often the last one you make. Greshil is swamp ridgedrake. He mostly tends to himself, but he offered us one of his scales after we helped him negotiate a deal with the local elves. Ankheron, on the other hand- there's a reason he's called The Devouring Storm. Nasty piece of work, that one, and a powerful sorcerer too. Entire kingdoms have tried to bring him down and failed miserably."

Inn - Dining Area - Lots of peeps

As they entered the dining hall, a teen-aged girl - radiating annoyance - stormed out. There were more people here than when Wolf had left to set up camp - a couple of them fairly normal looking, compared with the witch and the armoured warrior. Mort broke away towards the jukebox and Caroline made a bee-line for the witch's cat. Definitely a cat person.

Wolf was unsure as to whether to check out the jukebox with Mort, try to engage with the other guests or see what Koyel was going to do, when a musical sound and a synthesised voice asking where they were and talking about navigational markers caused him to turn to see who it was.

The source of the music and voice was clearly not human and towered over Wolf's mere 167 centimetres (~5'6"). For a moment Wolf was unable to speak, just taking in what he was seeing and getting used to the idea that he was in the presence of an actual alien species. Obviously intelligent and clearly technologically advanced - going by the tools and the prosthetic manipulating limbs they were wearing.

The questions suggested that the alien had no more control - or awareness - of being transported here than he had. He could relate to how disorienting that would be.

"Ahh," he finally managed, "this is prob'ly nowhere near where y'were a few moments ago, sorry." He frantically tapped his left index and middle fingers against his thumb and focussed his gaze on the alien's neck. "Apparently, this place is some sorta world-between-worlds 'n' y'c'n sometimes just fall into it when y'least expect it - at least, it seems that we both have."

It seemed like further clarification was in order. "I'm Wolf, from a planet called Earth. Not sure about everyone else here, but I know that at least three of 'em aren't even from the same universe as I come from."

Edited by Wolf1066 on May 14th 2022 at 11:14:03 PM

Hralia: Inn, lobby, dining area.

This 'Wolf', as he introduces himself, looks at a glance like one of the human roughnecks she often rubs shoulders with (albeit with a beard and hair well outside of regulation length, but she's not about to broach that subject) and it was this assessment that led her to seek an answer from him in particular—said assessment turns out to have been at least half right, in that his answer clarifies a few things but only raises more questions, not helped in the least by what she assumes to be clear surprise on seeing her. She likes to think she's halfway decent at reading human body language, at least.

That surprise alone implies he's at least being truthful in spite of the largely theoretical nature of the concepts he mentions, as liir'aalu shouldn't be that uncommon in the colony, surely? At least they seem to have one common point of reference in Earth, though she can't begin to guess what it's like in his version of reality. Her thoughts then turn to wondering how this happened in the first place... there were no experiments of this kind being run. It's not even in the colony's purview.

It takes a moment of thought to fully take in this information, with what would have been a contemplative frown if she possessed the anatomy. "My name is Hralia, from Solargale Frontier Hub 01 on the planet Pronova I." she chimes in promptly-translated Luvaala, accompanied by a slight bow. "Not by birth, mind, but worker exchange program... I was born on the Eos S03-I "Cherry Tree" research station, and although I have never set foot on my ancestral home planet of Avuura, I do know it is quite beautiful from informational files and what my family group tells me—they were native born, among the first to leave."

She shakes her head apologetically. "No matter, I'm rambling again. Do forgive me, but..." she intones, trailing off as she catches sight of an open menu on a nearby table, specifically its contents laid out in color images and pictographs rather than text, as if to account for her own species' somewhat poor binocular vision.

She makes her way over with a few short, graceful strides before reaching out with a manipulator and delicately picking the menu up, bringing it up to her face for closer examination as her initial thoughts are confirmed—Nectars and sugary purées, of the sort that comprise much of the typical liir'aalu diet. Insects too, freeze-dried, though not anything native to Avuura and certainly not live, likely for the allergenic risk their defensive secretions could pose to other species if cross-contamination were to occur. Few of the foods on offer, she notes, are things that humans are likely to enjoy... like the food she sees at other tables.

She considers for a moment asking Wolf to pick up a menu and relay what it says to him, but after a second more, the explanation seems obvious; some highly-refined variant of a electrophoretic display with hidden photo-recognition sensors to adapt to whatever species looks it over. A novel use of that sort of technology, to be sure, but the question remains of exactly how many species this place is built to accommodate.

Her curiosity and growing peckishness gets the better of her as she sits on her haunches at the table and somewhat awkwardly waves with a manipulator to grab the attention of a waiter, recalling what little she knows of this sort of establishment from her own curious browsing of historical files. Service is prompt as she makes an order and the waiter duly jots it down, showing little surprise at Hralia nor the order itself before departing to relay it to the kitchen staff, or perhaps punch it into an automated system. That seems more likely, all things considered. The façade of an old-fashioned Earth restaurant could only possibly be just that, for all that would go into serving a biologically-varied customer base.

In any case, she idly turns her attention back toward Wolf and the place's other occupants, anxiously drumming on the table with the plier-like hands of her manipulator arms before sheepishly catching herself in the midst of this nervous tic and stopping. "Sorry." she warbles. "Nerves. Do you get nervous easily? I do."

Edited by Chortleous on May 26th 2022 at 4:28:05 AM

Dining Area

Hilda couldn't help but smile at Liz's enthusiasm about having seen a forest. "Yes, of course." The knight replied. "A very pretty sight, and rather peaceful. You didn't see it in the way here?"

Before she could ask anything else, Liz and Jean started arguing. Hilda couldn't understand what they were saying, but their tone left no room for doubt that it was a rether sour one. Hilda frowned in worry when Liz left the table in a huff, and turned back to Leslie as the latter apologized. "It's alright, really." Hilda reassured the woman. "I can help you go after her if you want. Will she be alright on her own?"

The group got approached by a nice old lady, who only seemed interested in petting Hazel's familiar. Hilda gave the woman a friendly smile and a nod. "Go ahead. I'm sure he wouldn't mind." She said playfully, giving Felix a playful wink. Then she turned to Hazel, and nodded again at her explanation. "I see. Well, if anything, I reiterate that you're lucky to be friends with at least one of them. From where I come from, they're a rare sight. And a dangerous one: A dragon the size of a horse could easily require a regiment to fend off if it attacks a town. And supposedly, those are the young ones. No attempts at conversation either, unfortunately."

Their conversation got interrupted by a... something that approached the table. Hilda couldn't help but stare in disbelief at the creature near her. Tall and sleek, it reminded her of a horse or a deer, but coloured purple, and covered in a tight orange suit and strange accesories. And it could speak. Truly an aoutlandish sight for the knight.

Hilda would have stared for longer than she did, had not another newcomer started talking with the creature (named Hralia). The latter explained that it (She? The voice that came sounded female) had come to the inn by accident. And mentioned getting nervous easily. It sounded kinda... like any other person Hilda could have known before. That idea made the creature not look so strange anymore.

"If anything, it seems we all came here by chance." She gave Hralia a quick wave, trying to make her feel more at ease. "Feel free to stay, if you wish."

Dining Area (apparently, everyone at this point)

Leslie sighed. "I'm not going after her. I'm the one she's mad at." She considered this as several new people came over to their table, asking to pet Hazel's cat. "Well, no, not really. She's lashing out at me because she can't actually vent at the thing that's really bothering her, which is the fact that her entire world is changing very rapidly." She started counting on her fingers. "Her girlfriend is training to become a supervillain and thinks Liz would find it cool. She did not. Then her now-ex-girlfriend's mother shows up on our doorstep trying to tie up the loose end of Liz knowing her secret. We have to flee our apartment because ex-girlfriend's mother knows where we live. And now she's finding out that supervillains exist. And aliens. And apparently alternate universes now. And this all started last night. Honestly, I would have expected her to crack much sooner."

Leslie looked over at Liz's empty chair. "She's smart enough not to wander far in an unfamiliar place. She's probably just in the bathroom splashing water on her face. You're welcome to go talk to her if you want. Actually, that might be better than me talking to her. You don't have any connection to anything that's happened to her, so she might be more receptive to whatever you have to say."

"That was deep," Jean said.

"I was a psych major for a semester."

At that moment, a vaguely feminine computerized voice said "Excuse me, but where is this? I was just in the southwest maintenance tunnel, sector 12. I see no navigational markers as per regulation, either... with all due respect, this may present an issue."

Leslie turned around in her chair and found herself face-to-neck with...the only description her brain could come up with was "purple giraffe in a jumpsuit whistling through its horn." She continued to stare, trying to come up with a more sensible explanation for what she was seeing, even as one of the newcomers struck up a conversation with...her? How does one tell the gender of a purple hairless giraffe? Nothing was forthcoming. There was a sound, audible only inside Leslie's head, not unlike glass breaking.

"Close your mouth," Jean said, "you'll catch flies."

"What are you, my mom?" Leslie said weakly, unable to tear her eyes away from the creature in front of her. Even an impending case of Terminal Worldview Collapse couldn't completely shut off her snark valve.

"I'm very sorry about her," Jean said, getting to her feet. "She's never met an alien before. Well, at least not one that isn't wearing a humanoid exo-suit."

Leslie retreated into herself, slowly rocking back and forth clutching her elbows and quietly singing to herself. "Everything you know is wrong, black is white, up is down, and short is long..."

Hralia: Inn, lobby, dining area.

Hralia puts forth a conscious effort to avoid drumming her manipulators on the table again as she waits for her meal, lest she wear divots into the wood. She finds herself at a loss, having never been in a situation where she was well and truly 'alien' to anyone. Cherry Tree was firmly interspecies, as is her current workplace—she'd been raised among and worked alongside several other varieties of sophont, liir'aalu and otherwise, so such an exaggerated reaction strikes her as odd. Mildly offputting, even with the armored one's reassurance and the knowledge that everyone present is evidently just as out-of-place.

"That would perhaps be wise, I'm not certain your kind eat flies." Hralia intones in agreement with the calmer human's warning, deciding after a moment's thought that a Fun Fact would be the ideal way to calm things down and soften what must be a blow to the panicking one's worldview. "Interesting coincidence, mine do! Though 'flies' is somewhat of a misnomer; they're more comparable to your ants and termites... 'treemites' is what we call them. It's actually a blanket term for the variety of invertebrate species that form a significant portion of the natural diet on my home world, often arboreal but frequently nesting in the ground as well. We liir'aalu are resistant to their defensive stings and secretions but offworlders are notably not, typically succumbing to anaphylaxis within seconds." she descants.

"Am I rambling? In any case, not to worry," she then chimes to head off any concerns about that latter point. "as they are typically not served at interspecies dining establishments such as this, with cooks compensating for their absence byaaaand I believe I am rambling again, apologies." she cuts herself off, letting out a brief exasperated note that her translator doesn't pick up on.

She glances off to the side sheepishly, ears turned backward before perking back up. "Where do you all come from? And I must say I am curious about this exo-suited species; are they the only sapient your world has contacted? Are the suits a protective measure?"

Edited by Chortleous on May 31st 2022 at 9:54:10 AM

[Lobby: Dining Area]

Ah, of course. The shock that came with having one entire world flipped upside down. One's core assumptions thrown out, devastated, and replaced.

Caroline had only experienced it once herself. A dim memory now, yet the embers still had life when stirred. It had been such a small thing, so much smaller than what was to come. An utterly mundane thing, all the way back in 2026. There had been someone, petty and vindictive, with a reason to lie about her — and a follower count in the hundreds of thousands. How quickly her so-called friends, people she had trusted with her deepest secrets and insecurities, had betrayed her. It seemed to have burned something out her. Nothing since had shocked her. Not even when she had stood on an alien world, gazing up at the corpse of a dead god...

A keen eye might catch this moment of rumination. It lasted a fraction of a second. Old embers; even stirred, they did not linger long.

Caroline refrained from attempting to pet Felix. Nor did she ask permission to do so. Knowing now that he was a sapient, speaking creature, it seemed rather forward to ask such a thing. Instead, she took a seat beside Hralia. She then said, "entomophagy isn't actually uncommon among humans." Hralia might reasonably assume Caroline routinely dealt with extraterrestrials like herself from her matter-of-fact tone and demeanor. "For instance..."

She indicated Koyel, whose food had arrived; he was proving her point with a bowl of thin rice noodles, fried grubs, and vegetables, doused in an alarmingly bright pink sauce. He mixed and ate the concoction with a two-pronged fork, clearly enjoying his meal and ensuring every bite was suitably pink before he ate. Simply being able to eat his fill was a luxury that Koyel still appreciated. Mort was sitting as well; he'd been in Qorisa long enough to not react to Koyel's but satisfied himself with an imposing but unpretentious burger and fries.

Caroline continued. "To answer your question: I am Caroline Thao. Myself and Mortimer Gerhardt, the older gentleman there, come from Earth, 2051 A.D. The younger gentleman is Koyel of Netho, son of Etasa, a descendant of a population of humans populated on a world his people called Alos by the last remnants of an extraterrestrial artificial intelligence, alongside portals connecting our worlds." She smiled apologetically and added, "we can only guess at their motivations; it's above my pay grade." She had theories, but those were not worth expositing on presently. "I am an artist and animator, Mortimer, or Mort as he is usually called, is a private security contractor, and Koyel is a farmer and hunter." She indicated the others and added, "everyone else here is from a different parallel possible universe. I'm afraid I can't offer many details on the matter of that; I'm mostly here to ensure Mort and Koyel don't cause too much trouble." With that, she thought for a moment and added, "is there anything we should know about your preferred terms of address, Hralia? And please, don't worry about rambling; I'm a good listener."

That was when the jukebox came to life. Mortimer Gerhardt had made his decision. "There I was completely wasting, out of work and down / All inside it's so frustrating as I drift from town to town." An old favorite of Mort's, he often found himself humming it while introducing corporate property to something blunt and heavy. Koyel eyed the jukebox skeptically, but didn't seem bothered, just a bit bemused. "Breaking the law, breaking the law..."

Edited by KillerClowns on Jun 11th 2022 at 9:28:19 AM

(Lobby- The horde)

Well, that's not something you see everyday... For a middle schooler, Hazel was remarkably hard to faze. It came with the territory of dealing with magical creatures, weird curses, and generally mind warping magical formulae. But this- whatever she was- had the sorceress staring and wondering if she'd eaten something gone spectacularly bad without knowing it.

Felix, for his part, rolled over onto his back in anticipation of petting. "Make sure to get under the chin, please." Apparently, he was still a cat, familiar or not.

Dining Area

Hilda ruminated over what Leslie had said while she finished the last scraps of her food. "I would be lying if I said I didn't understand what she's gone through." She admitted after she swallowed the last bite of her fish. "Not quite the same, but I know how it feels to have your world thrown upside down. I'll speak to her; it might make Liz feel better."

With this said, Hilda stood up, took her helmet and stuffed it as best as she could inside her bag. Then she slung it over her shoulder and walked off, passing near Hralia as she did. The knight paused for a moment, looking at the horse-like being.

"Feel free to use my chair, if you want or need it." She offered politely. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Hilda took off towards where Liz had gone. Effectively, it looked like the girl had gone to the bathroom. Hilda stood in front of the wooden door. She gave it a gentle knock and called out. "Liz? Are you there?" The knight waited a moment to see if the Liz would answer. "I know we met just a few minutes ago, but would you like to talk?"

Hralia: Inn, lobby, dining area.

Hralia, for her part, does an excellent job of reigning in her own anxiety as she listens intently to Caroline's explanation of human cuisine. Her eyes are then guided to that dish enjoyed by the one named Koyel, at first looking quite appetizing due in no small part to its invertebrate ingredients... until her somewhat limited color vision picks up the vibrant pink; the precise hue, though deeper than is typical, is nevertheless a tad too close to her own species' blood for comfort, to the point that her analytical brain has to remind her that's almost certainly not what it is.

No sooner does this occur does Caroline change the subject and unwittingly provide a welcome reprieve, her introduction and explanation of where she and her compatriots come from providing yet more confirmation that everyone present comes from their own corner of an incomprehensibly multifaceted version of reality about which she was never taught in school, at least not outside the context of ever-evolving theories far outside her own chosen purview.

A series of nods with every bit of information she receives. "In my own... world? It is standard calendar year 2425, I work as an on-site mechanical engineer, that is to say overseeing equipment installation, performing routine maintenance, as well as fault-finding and overall design whenever we're not working with prefabricated components. Very exciting work." she chimes. "I have no formal titles, of course, as none of you are coworkers superior or subordinate, and my preferred pronouns—forgive my lack of manners—are she/her, though I do not place the same importance on gender as your kind might... it is perhaps a longer story and rather more personal than most."

Then the antiquated device at the far end of the dining area comes to life and Hralia's ears perk in a combination of curiosity and, as the attentive may note, an abundance of caution, as if she were suddenly preparing to stand and excuse herself at a moment's notice.

Human music, one of a plethora of old Earth styles she recognizes, specifically the genre of 'heavy metal' by the composer known as Judas Priest. A moment of relief in the knowledge that they made little use of woodwind instruments—though woodwind may sound like an approximation of Luvaala, they register in actuality as intensely off-putting gibberish to the language centers of the liir'aalu upper-brain. It's for this reason that she considers politely requesting that anything featuring a strong flute component not be played, lest someone get the understandable but gravely naïve impression that she'd appreciate it. This has happened before, but she holds her tongue for the sake of not imposing on present company and tries her best to relax, sparing a glance toward wherever that waiter went.

A chirp in thanks to the armored one for their courtesy, though she neglects to mention that bipedally-oriented seating is of questionable utility to someone of her own body plan. 'It's the thought that counts' is a common human saying, after all.

Edited by Chortleous on Jun 21st 2022 at 6:41:23 AM

Dining Room - The Horde

The alien - Hralia - infodumped name, recent location, worker exchange program, birth location, ancestral planet and brief family history and then apologised for rambling before being distracted by the menu on one of the nearby tables. From Wolf's perspective, it was all refreshingly relatable.

Hralia's drumming on the table made Wolf aware of his own finger-tapping and they both abruptly stopped at the same time. In response to being asked if he also got nervous easily, Wolf nodded then placed his left arm across his chest, trapping his left hand in his right armpit with tight pressure from his right arm.

One of the women at the other table - red-haired, fairly normal-looking by Wolf's standards, but this wasn't the place to make such assumptions - made some comment a dark-haired woman about catching flies and Hralia apparently took it literally and launched into an infodump about insectivorous diets and "treemites".

The dark-haired woman seemed to be taking the strangeness of the situation badly - physically stimming and singing softly to calm herself. Wolf could relate - not this particular situation, for him, but there were certainly situations in which he would be similarly overwhelmed.

Caroline took a seat next to Hralia and, unless Wolf misunderstood her completely, indicated that Koyel's meal included insects of some description.

Wolf had nothing against the eating of insects in principle. He was aware that a number of cultures routinely included insects in their diets and was also aware of the edibility of certain insects (or their larvae) native to New Zealand, but he had never had the opportunity or need to eat them. The idea that Koyel was chowing down on insects didn't bother Wolf in the slightest.

Since Hralia, Caroline, Koyel and Mort were all sitting down and organising food Wolf took a seat at their table and picked up the menu with his free right hand.

Surprisingly, the food listed was pretty much what he would expect to find on a typical restaurant menu back home in New Zealand and did not seem suited for the tastes of others - there were certainly no dishes of "noodles-insects-'n'-veges" for a start - so... the menu was capable of tailoring itself to suit the person reading it.

He hadn't had much in the way of breakfast, just a steak-and-cheese pie on the way out of town, so - while Caroline introduced herself, Koyel and Mort to Hralia - he summoned the waiter and ordered fried sausage, egg, hash brown, tomato, onion and mushroom. And an oat-milk latte to go with it.

Caroline asking for Hralia's preferred terms of address caused Wolf to be acutely aware that he hadn't asked and he cringed inwardly. He had no idea what gender Hralia was or even if it was an appropriate concept and he felt like he had been rude not to ask or otherwise indicate that the information would be welcome.

Then the jukebox burst into life: an unfamiliar Heavy Metal song but the lead's voice was familiar and connected to Hell Bent for Leather and Take On the World in Wolf's mind - so it was possibly Judas Priest... or someone else who sounded uncannily like Rob Halford.

At this point, the black-armoured knight passed by, pausing long enough to offer her chair to Hralia, before heading towards the toilets.

Wolf said, mostly for Hralia's benefit but also for anyone else who might have been wondering, "on my Earth, it's the 14th of August 2021. It's a pretty mundane world, really... we don't have people flying around on broomsticks with talking cats, we don't have contact with alien intelligences or routine travel between different planets or universes. About all we've got worth mentioning are a global pandemic and catastrophic climate changes."

Beneath the table, his right leg jiggled.

Dining Room (Most of the cast)

Leslie continued to sing to herself. "I was going to the kitchen for some Golden Grahams, when I accidentally stepped into an alternate dimension..." Here she stopped as she realized that, except for the fact that the alien looked nothing like Jamie Farr (she suspected: she didn't actually know who Jamie Farr was), she was describing her current situation. Just as well that she stopped there, because right at that moment, the jukebox started blasting Judas Priest, and she found it hard to get her mind back on Weird Al.

"You gonna be okay?" Jean asked.

Leslie slowly turned to look at the giraffe creature - Hralia, she had called herself - who was now talking about eating bugs. Still weird, but at least there was no dial-up modem sound playing in Leslie's brain. "Gimme a minute to adjust to this."

Jean turned her attention back to Hralia. "To my knowledge, there is only one alien on my Earth. We call them Arlo, because that's as far as we can get in their name before we run into syllables the human tongue can't pronounce. They used to program navigational computers for interstellar spacecraft on their home planet, but then there was a military coup, and the new regime started killing the intellectuals, so they fled and ended up on Earth. Specifically, they ended up landing outside a town called Roswell, where they then spent the next 70 years locked up inside a government facility in the desert, studying the humans who were studying them, surreptitiously gathering the parts necessary to make a humanoid exo-suit, and learning English. The suit is so nobody knows they're an alien. Also because Kleh'helians are aquatic, and Arlo currently lives on the edge of the largest desert in North America.

"On my Earth, it's September 16, 2022. We also have climate change, and we had a pandemic recently, that was awful."

"Try being Asian during it," Leslie grumbled.

"There's some other stuff, but..." Jean looked over at Wolf. "You're about a year behind us, and everything I've ever read or watched about time travel says that giving away too much information about the future is a bad thing. Let's just say Ukraine's not going to have a good time and leave it at that. But the main thing, I guess, that distinguishes my world from everyone else's is the existence of supervillains." She had no idea if Hralia would have any frame of reference for that word, but Wolf's world didn't seem to be all that different from her own, so she figured he, at least, might get the reference.

Leslie chanced another look at Hralia. "Okay. I think I can handle this now. I'll try not to stare, but I will make no promises. Oh, and if the floating, disembodied head of Colonel Sanders shows up, I'm outta here."

Bathroom (Liz; Hilda)

Liz clutched the edge of the sink, replaying the last few minutes in her head. It had been ages since she and Leslie had fought over anything more substantial than the TV remote. She couldn't remember the last time she had been genuinely angry with her, and she hated feeling that way.

A knock on the door jolted Liz out of her brooding. "Liz?" a voice called through the door. "Are you there?" It was the armored lady's voice.

Liz sighed. "I'll be done in a minute."

"I know we met just a few minutes ago, but would you like to talk?"

Liz blinked, blinked again, and walked over to the door. She jerked it open and gave the older woman a once-over. "Leslie sent you, didn't she?" She glared at Hilda. Who did she think she was, coming over here? How dare this stranger show concern for her well-being instead of leaving her to wallow in her funk?

Yeah, even as she had that thought, it sounded ridiculous.

"Fine. You wanna talk? Let's talk. Let's start with how my own sister doesn't seem to care that my life is falling apart."

[Lobby: Dining Area]

Well, Caroline wasn't going to say no to Felix. She stood, headed over, and gave the requested chin scratches. "A familiar? We don't have much in the way of magic where I come from, so I can't say I've met anything quite like you. Anything I should know?" She smiled as she moved her fingers to between Felix's ears. "Faux pas to avoid?"

Caroline gave Leslie a knowing nod when she mentioned being Asian during COVID. Then, not interrupting her cat petting, she turned her attention to Jean. "I wouldn't worry too much about 'giving away' the future. We're definitely on different timelines. I know that in every other timeline we've encountered, nobody's heard of Western Amalgamated — which means there's a point of divergence in the 1960s, at least. They were around earlier, but it was the Monsanto acqusition that really made them who they are today." She decided to cut the history lesson short there and condcluded, "so I could tell you our future, but it wouldn't matter. You've got supervillains, we've got the Megas." If there was that much difference.

To Wolf, she added, "not sure what you've got yet. Keep an eye out for creepy men in natty black suits, maybe? You sure nothing truly bizarre has happened lately?"

"That said," Caroline said, turning to Hralia, "when you say 'Common Year'. Would that put you, oh, about four hundred years 'ahead' of me? Or am I misunderstanding? You don't seem surprised by humans, that much is clear."

[Lobby: Dining Area, Jukebox Corner: Mort, Koyel]

Mortimer and Koyel, for the moment, were content to talk among themselves. Koyel had overheard Hralia mention engineering, a topic Koyel was under the impression Mortimer knew. He didn't really, outside of car maintenance (his father had been a mechanic) and his one personal specialty: illegal improvised explosive devises. Mort was now going over the finer points of incendiary device construction and deployment. His explanations were clear and down to earth, with plenty of warnings about common "mishaps" and rules of thumb on how to best deploy such devices and get out; he was clearly informed by practical experience. The device he described could even be built on a budget, though precautions would be needed to to avoid getting put on a law enforcement watchlist. Koyel listened with rapt fascination, occasionally interjecting with astute questions, clarifications, or comments on potential substitutions more easily available in early-industrial Qorisa. Until somebody saw fit to interrupt, the conversation would continue on this tack for a while.

Edited by KillerClowns on Jun 30th 2022 at 8:50:10 AM

Hralia: Inn, lobby, dining area.

Hralia finds something marginally less disruptive to do with her manipulator claws as she takes in what the others recount of their home worlds: interlocking the pincers and spinning them in a motion not unlike the twiddling of humanoid thumbs. She then lets out a long contemplative note that her translator doesn't pick up, seemingly equivalent to 'hmmm'. "Between all of you, the basic details all line up from what I recall of Earth historical records, except of course the particulars, like Western Amalgamated, the 'Arlo' you mention, and the... magic? And the 'super villains'? Those were quite firmly fictional, if I read things right..." she thinks.

"No matter, four hundred seems to be the correct estimate, yes." she confirms. "I work alongside many species, humanity among them... though many of them are quite different from any of those present here, that's somewhat of a long story." the liir'aalu intones before adding half-jokingly in agreement with Jean's point, "One I'm not sure I'm at liberty to tell, should your own future take a similar course. Time paradoxes and all, better safe than sorry."

Before Hralia can consider the full ramifications of what seems now to be time travel in addition to interdimensional travel, though, does the waiter return with her meal on a serving tray, receiving thanks from the quadruped in the form of a bowed head and a brief chirping note as they set it down on the table and again depart for the kitchens.

Comprising this meal are two 25oz canisters of semi-translucent plastic, both adorned with handles and sealed with pull-tab lids as if to accommodate grasping claws not unlike the kind Hralia wears. One is full of an opaque, viscous golden fluid while the other contains a segment of cardboard egg carton that is, upon closer examination, crawling with insects only barely obscured by the opacity of the container. Hralia studies both of them intently, before hefting the liquid one with a manipulator and shaking it thoroughly.

After a moment of this, her other claw removes its lid with a hiss not unlike a drink can before she holds it closer to her snout and probes into it with her tongue, tentatively at first but soon reaching deep into the container and looping around itself at the bottom before retracting, and repeating the process again and again over the next few seconds until the thing is less than two thirds full.

"Artificial nectar." she chimes simply to answer any incoming questions about what exactly the golden fluid is, after a brief pause to ponder the taste. "Basic reproduction of what many plant species on my home world produce, no additional flavorings... I must note I've seldom ever had the real thing, but this is as close to perfect as it gets."

"Certainly better than anything a company meal voucher buys." she adds wryly.

Edited by Chortleous on Jul 2nd 2022 at 4:12:51 AM

Bathroom (In front of)

Hilda did not flinch at Liz's abrassiveness. "She didn't send me." The knight replied in an amicable tone. "I'm here on my own, in case you needed someone to vent, or just company. If you want me to stay, I'll stay. If you want me to leave, say it and I'll leave you alone."

"Do you really think that?" She added, after the young girl went on. "I was told what happened, more or less. For what is worth, I know how it feels to have your life turned upside down."

Since she was right next to the door, Hilda took a step back, giving Liz some more space. "You don't have to listen to me if you don't want to. If you prefer to be alone, just say so and I'll leave."

Dining Room - pretty much everyone.

Wolf turned in his chair and listened as the red-haired woman explained the alien she had mentioned earlier - it appeared that on her Earth, there actually was an extraterrestrial arrival at Roswell and the US government had locked the alien up at Area 51. She then went on to mention climate change and pandemic before addressing him specifically, referencing time travel tropes and not wanting to give away spoilers for the next 13 months or so.

Wolf was inclined to think that time difference considerations were secondary to those of alternative realities - and Carolyn, who had gone to scratch the talking cat, was apparently of the same opinion. He smiled when she mentioned "point of divergence". Of course, being experienced with multiple universes, she would know the term... for him, it was a standard science fiction trope, but for her it was most-likely "business as usual".

He directed his attention to the red-haired woman. "Caroline's probably correct. You had a pandemic, we still have one; you have supervillains 'nd an actual alien, we don't; 'n' there may yet be other differences between our worlds that'd only come t'light after extensive comparisons... fr'all I know, y' c'd have a banana lolly - ahh - candy that actually tastes like banana! There's enough differences between our worlds that what happened there may not happen in mine 'n' Ukraine may be just fine next year in my world. I certainly hope so. Given what Hralia has said about Arlo, supervillains 'n' magic, her world is more likely t'be a future version of my world th'n yours is." Then he gave Caroline a grin. "I'll certainly keep an eye out for the Men in Black. Only truly bizarre thing I can think of happening is me winding up here... I didn't walk widdershins around any churches or chase white rabbits down their holes and I didn't get hit by a car or shot while listening to a David Bowie song."

Wolf had caught enough of the exchange near the restroom door between the armoured knight and the teenager to deduce that one of the women was called "Leslie" but he had no idea which one or what the names of the others - or the cat - were. "So," he addressed the general area where the women were sitting, "I didn't catch everyone's names, sorry. I'm Wolf - from New Zealand on an Earth... and some version of late 2021."

Dining Room (Most people)

"Banana-flavored candy that actually tastes like banana?" Leslie laughed. "Oh yeah, we keep that on the shelf next to the grape-flavored candy that tastes like grapes. Yeah, that really would be an alternate universe." She indicated herself and Jean. "I'm Leslie, this is Jean, and you just missed my sister Liz. She's off...having a teenage moment."

"A teenage moment? Really?"

"Hey, she's my sister. I am contractually obligated to rib her at every opportunity. It's in the Older Sibling Handbook."

"And calling you out on questionable choices is in the Best Friend Handbook."

"Me dating Mark Sunderland was a questionable choice. This was...I mean, don't you have any siblings?"

"One, but they haven't spoken to me like that since we were kids."

"This is the one that lives in San Francisco, right?" Leslie nodded to herself, as if that explained everything.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just answer me one question...is your sibling, who lives in San Francisco...a Niners fan?"

"...is that a football thing?"

Leslie sighed and buried her face in her hands. "Philistines, the lot of you."

Just Outside the Bathroom (Liz; Hilda)

"I just found out that the girl I loved, who I dated for five months, wasn't who I thought she was. Now you want me to open up to you after knowing you less than five minutes?" Liz turned away, arms folded.

"It's just..." she quickly turned back around before Hilda would have had a chance to take more than a few steps away, "...would it kill her to acknowledge what I'm going through? Like...okay, I guess she kinda did last night when she bought us ice cream and let me stay up to watch some terrible sitcoms with her...and I guess she did tell me my heart was too big to never love again...but the moment I mention supervillains, she checks out, and then the next day she runs off to join some weird cult or whatever, and it's just..."

Liz slumped down to the floor against the wall. "She's not my mom, but she's the closest I've had to one for ten years." Her voice was shaking. "So why can't she be one when it really matters?"

Dining Room: Just outside the bathroom

Hilda shrugged when Liz made her point. "Well, you're not wrong for that." The knight conceded. "I used to do the same when I travelled with a merchant caravan. A month on the roads with only strangers to talk, and by the end of the journey everyone knows everything about you, and you from them."

Hilda listened intently as Liz aired her problems and her own feelings. By the end, the young girl was slumped on the floor, more upset than angry. Mulling over what she had said, Hilda knelt down next to her. "I'm sure Leslie worries about you, and all you're going through." She said, trying to find what to say in this situation. "And she might be having to deal with much more than she lets on, precisely for that. It must have not been easy for the three of you, these last few days."

"Things might calm down now, here in this place." She motioned to the Inn's vast interior. "You can use your stay here to talk it out. Let her know how you feel, I'm sure she'll understand." The knight shrugged again as she struggled to stand up. "Or not, if you prefer to be on your own for a while. No problem either."

Lobby: Dining Area

A teenage girl enters. She is of average height, with olive skin, brown eyes, and dark hair in a braid. She wears a sleeveless white dress somewhat resembling a chiton, though it's not floor-length, and curling up her arms are pale pink markings.

Selene Kyrkos looks around for a moment, then takes a seat at a table, beginning to read her menu.