Um... I guess we'll come back later then...
You find yourself in an unfamiliar room. Your head is swimming.
You are having trouble remembering things. You notice your hand, or rather your stump of a wrist, is bandaged. You get up off the strange table you found yourself on.
You wonder what you should do next.
>Recall your love of dancing and do a small jig to raise your spirits.
That is ridiculous! You are pretty sure you don't remember loving to dance! Besides, even if you secretly did, it would be a waste of time.
It would require an ORDER from HIGH INSTRUCTOR NYX HERSELF for you to consider performing such an activity.
It would obviously be important then, and you would do so without hesitation, even if you didn't secretly enjoy dancing.
You don't, by the way.
You decide to perform some basic calisthenics though. Your muscles are somewhat stiff.
I love you.
>Read clipboard that was shown in the second picture.
You walk over to the table and pull the clipboard out of the ether of plot consistency, holding it at the angle that requires the least effort to draw from this perspective. How convenient!
Looks like it's written in Solar. You thought the architecture seemed odd. Luckily, you know how to read Solar.
Humans sure can be idiotic sometimes. You have to keep reminding yourself that you're supposed to be far superior to them.
You suppose you can remember that these fools wasted valuable time drawing cartoons on official documents whenever you need to convince yourself again.
From what little you know of human practices, you guess that you must have been detained here for these procedures.
You start to remember something about running from some armed humans and a sharp pain in your back.
After that, nothing.
This document also helps you remember your name.
Nyx gave you that name. You like it.
You don't remember all that details, but you must have failed your last mission horribly to end up in this situation. You desperately hope you can make it up to the High Instructors.
But first you have to get out of this place.
>Examine the tools on the table and grab the most lethal. A-hunting we will go.
You realize that, while you have not encountered anything dangerous YET, you are still vulnerable.
You decide you may as well survey the surgery equipment on the table for makeshift weapons.
You absolutely detest violence. It's a shame your career seems to revolve around it. Still, you must be pragmatic about these things.
Okay, so there's a... you know one of those... no wait, the other one is a... uh...
Damn. You're not quite sure what some of these are.
The one yellow object looks to be some sort of injection-gun-thing. You presume that this played a part in keeping you sedated. It is currently empty.
If you had a fast acting poison or something else of similar lethality, it could prove useful.
As it is, it probably wouldn't serve you much better than your fists fist
The grey one is a sharp cutting implement. You believe the humans call it a scalpel.
Normally, such a tool would be useless for one of your kind, but it would appear that your claws have been filed down.
Humans have no shame, you swear. You would feel violated if you didn't know their behavior was born of unyielding ignorance.
The red and blue objects elude your comprehension. They don't look very sharp anyway.
They are probably just probes or sensors or something. Maybe the barbarians just left some of their sex toys laying around.
Doesn't human reproduction require surgery or something anyway?
You admit to yourself that you don't really know much about mammals.
You don't really care to educate yourself on the matter.
Nyx would probably know, though. She knows a lot about humans.
Ah, just thinking about High Instructor Nyx is enough to get your wings fluttering!
She's just so perfect! It was by her will that your people became the galactic power they are today!
If only she wasn't so-
Whoa, okay, you have to slow down. Your relationship with Nyx is... complex, to say the least.
You have to keep your emotions in check. They could endlessly complicate things, and complications could easily lead to deaths.
Anyway, Nyx helped pull your people from the dark ages. She forged the disparate tribes and bands on your homeworld into a unified empire and led your race into the void.
Since then, she's acquired a great many technologies and client races for her people. This little war with the Solar Empire is actually the first real hiccup in her expansion.
Solar propaganda advertises your civilization as a dystopian, mafia-style police state, but you aren't complaining. It works, so those Solar imbeciles can throw whatever labels they want on it.
Wow, all that patriotic internal monologuing really got you pumped. You take the scalpel without hesitation.
It will undoubtedly prove useful. You may need to cut something later, even if it isn't a human throat.
Especially if it isn't a human throat.
Avoiding violence would actually be ideal.
Okay, let's finally >Examine the red smear around the door(?)
> Take the "NULL-0/F" part out of the left sign.
On a whim, you decide to closely examine this sign here.
The engraved writing has been eroded. This seems strange to you, but you can't pinpoint why.
You wonder if you could remove the inset digital screen. Your experience has taught you to never underestimate the usefulness of a solid rectangular object.
However, the only tool you have is your scalpel. You aren't very knowledgeable about electrical systems, but you know that metal is usually very conductive.
For all your race's perfections, immunity to disruption via electrical discharge is sadly not yet among them. You'll have to remember to inform Thanatos of this shortcoming.
No doubt he'd be willing to correct this grave oversight.
You decide to leave the sign alone and examine the strange red liquid pooling by the busted door. Wow, that is actually a really large door, isn't it? You hadn't noticed before, but it's huge!
Even if you weren't below average height for your species, you would find this door abnormally large. Humans are shorter than you. Why would they need such a tall door?
This place must be outfitted with particularly tall drones or something.
Solar aesthetics leave a lot to be desired, in your opinion.
The red liquid smells metallic to you. Some human probably went and spilled their vital fluids all over the place.
The pattern on the wall makes you think they were attacked. You can only speculate as to the specifics.
Either they survived and left, or their attacker dragged them off.
It would be nice to know what happened. As it is, you don't know whether you have a potential ally or another threat to worry about.
> Re-pick-up scalpel, and exit through the door.
After a sudden perspective shift, you find yourself in a holding cell.
Just like the several days previous.
You've just finished purging yourself. Something got into the air the other day, and it did not get along with your physiology.
Your name is Tiamat. Your hobbies include spending time in holding cells, running from hostile entities, and serving others for the sake of survival.
You hope that someday you might get the time to have some real hobbies, but you aren't too hopeful, at least as long as the current political structure remains the way it is.
Too bad it's unlikely to change any time soon.
You were recently captured by a Solar task force and are currently aboard one of their battleships.
Thankfully, they haven't payed you much attention, since they shortly thereafter captured a much higher priority target.
As soon as they are done processing him, you will no doubt be next.
You would say you aren't looking forward to being a mindless slave, but it probably beats being a mindful one, so maybe it won't be all that bad.
The humans likely won't be any worse than the High Instructors.
Edit:> Tiamat: Examine bed, look for any contraband that could have been hidden under it.
(Also don't worry, my "insider knowledge" is limited. :P)
Last edited by Friggle_Dex; 06-28-2012 at 03:35 PM.
<(^.^<) ~ Friggle
> Look out of window.
> Examine another wall/ceiling.
> Check inventory.
Last edited by simon.clarkstone; 06-28-2012 at 04:56 PM.
>EAT THE CONTENTS OF THE BUCKET.
>or, at the least, carry it around with you. It could be useful...
You'd rather not, to be honest.
Sure, you're pretty hungry, what with being left alone in a cell for several days, but you just got all that out of your body.
Ingesting it probably wouldn't do you any favors.
Besides that, it probably won't taste any better than it did coming up. Sure, "The senses are tools, not masters", but if avoiding unpleasant sensations is hedonism, then you'll gladly be a heretic.
Your senses are infinitely kinder masters than anyone else you've ever come across.
There isn't really anything else in this room besides a human bed, a basin with piping, a mirror, and this "window".
This "window" pisses you off. You're all up for a good prank, and you gotta admit that whatever human came up with this was pretty clever, but this is just offensive in so many ways.
It's a mockery. You are already stuck in a cell, why must you be taunted with an illusion of being slightly more free than you are.
You figured out early on that it was a screen displaying a picture of a starry night seen through iron bars. You knew you were not near the exterior of the battleship.
Besides, an iron barred window wouldn't really be feasible in deep space. Humans might be stupid, but despite the propaganda, you know they aren't that stupid.
>Eat the pillow
>Eat the screen
>Eat your wings
>eat the mirror
>Tiamat: Check for door, or other way out of cell.
<(^.^<) ~ Friggle
>Mirror: Also be a screen.
>Is there anything else in the room? Ie: Other walls, under bucket/bed, etc?
There's not much to be said for the lodgings here. At least there was nothing much to get knocked around during that shaking yesterday.
Your cell door has remained suspiciously quiet so far today.
Usually, some human shouts through the door at you, presumably to wake you up and remind you that you still aren't getting any rations yet.
You are worried that your captors might accidentally let you starve if this continues for much longer.
You glance at the mirror and consider for the umpteenth time breaking it.
On the one hand, you would probably only succeed in angering your captors.
On the other hand, a shard of glass would be an invaluable tool.
If nothing else, you could use it to cut off your wings for food.
Ha ha ha, you crack yourself up sometimes.
You'd sooner starve than reduce yourself to a crawler. There are few greater shames than being trapped on the ground.
Then again, being dead would still trap you on the ground, wouldn't it...
You hope you won't need to continue down this line of thought.
This stupid mirror...
Is it good for anything besides reminding you of your problems!?
Void! Why do you even need a mirror in here, anyway?
To remind you of your many flaws? To serve as yet another false glimmer of hope?
You're sick of seeing your unaesthetic form every time you glance its way!
You're sick of everything.
You just want to go home.
>Smash that infernal window, too! BREAK EVERYTHING!
>Use your newfound rage to destroy the door, or rip the bed free and use it as a battering ram!
YOUR RAGE IS THE RAGE THAT WILL PIERCE THE JAIL CELL!
I'm coming for you~