One moment you're in the Barrens, cheerfully scraping mutant bug goo off your crotch plate with a sharpened hubcap.The next, your body is being crushed from all sides into a single dimensionless point.No pain. A distant, vaguely malevolent sound like God cracking His knuckles, a flash of rainbow colors, and then--Green.You have never seen this much green. Your HUD tries to pinpoint your exact location via GPS and gives up after a few tries. The external sensors lick the air and do something they have never done before in their entire operational life: find nothing wrong with it.ATMOSPHERIC ANALYSIS COMPLETE. Toxins: NONE. Radiation: NONE. Particulate: CLEAN. ERROR -- results outside range of last 5341 DAYS. Recommend immediate sensor recalibration.You are standing in a circle of stones on a hilltop. Below, in every direction: trees. Whole trees, with leaves on them and birds in the branches and this like smug self-assurance that's actually kind of annoying to be honest but also strangely attractive. A river catches sunlight in the valley and--holy hell, is that actual, honest-to-god fresh water?Something whimpers at your feet.There is a young man in a robe that has seen better centuries. He's clutching a wooden staff in one hand and the grass in the other, like he's worried the earth might buck him off if he lets go. His eyes are the approximate size and color of hard-boiled eggs.He did this. You don't know how you know this, but the thought suddenly appears in your head and then you know it with absolute certainty, the way you know your own name. He says something.His voice cracks on the words like someone just stepped on his balls. He stares up at you -- all seven feet and six hundred pounds of powered ceramic plate and alloy -- and gulps hard enough that you can hear it through the helmet.He checks a scrap of parchment with shaking hands. Says something else.Whatever language he's speaking, it isn't any you've ever heard before (better not be a commie dialect). But the computer's good at translation. The computer's good at everything except keeping you comfortable. Any minute now the subtitles will kick in. Any minute now.TRANSLATION FAILED.Shit.>Attempt to communicate via a complex system of gestures and pantomime.>"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED." External speakers. Full volume.>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.>Write-in
>>6386855>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.HOLY FUCKING SHIT A TREE
>>6386855>>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.
>>6386855>Crush his skull like a ripe melon. Then use his staff to finish scratching the goo off your crotch plate.
>>6386855>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.
>>6386855>>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.>Try not to cry.>Shed a single manful tear anyways.
>>6387124+1, holy shit, this is beautiful. Did we die and go to heaven?>>6386855
>>6386855>>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.I fucking love trees, bros.
>>6386855>"WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED." External speakers. Full volume.>There is a living tree ten feet away and priority number one is to touch it. Right now.14 years of post apocalypse wasteland seems weirdly short.
>>6386855Robes is saying something important. You can tell because he's gesticulating wildly. Could be directions. Could be a warning. Could be the meaning of life.You walk right past him toward the tree.It's an oak. You think. Could be a maple, could be a goddamn bonsai for all you know -- you grew up on a military base in a desert that used to be some place called Pennsylvania and your entire botanical education consists of "don't eat that." and cinematic wideshots in black and white prewar romcoms. But this isn't a movie. It's real. Alive. Beautiful.Look at that bark. The tasteful thickness of it -- oh my God, it even has a knot on the trunk.BIOLOGICAL SCAN.Species: UNKNOWN (LOCAL FLORA).Est. age: 340 YEARS.Health: OPTIMAL.WARNING! Operator pulse 128 BPM -- suggest cardiac review.You put your gauntlet on the bark. Despite all efforts to keep moisture inside your eyeballs, a single tear escapes down your cheek with no means to wipe it away.Then you feel something push back. Not physically. Inside your head. Like someone just hijacked your imagination. A presence. An unbelievably smug presence.Back in reality (heaven?) a girl steps out of the tree. Literally steps out. Bark flows and knits into skin, some into hair, some of the roots turn into pointy bare feet on the grass. She's about eight years old. She looks up at you with the expression of a cat that knows it's sitting on your keyboard and does not care.She tilts her head. The presence tilts with it, curious now, probing deeper--She finds the wasteland.You feel her see it. The ash. The awful flatness of the earth. The rain that glows deadly in the dark. The bugs.She screams. Not out loud. Inside your skull, where there is no armor.The tree detonates. Roots punch up through the dirt and slam your chest plate. Branches whip around your arms, twigs wriggling inside the cracks. Your HUD loses its mind:ALERT. DAMAGE TYPE: UNKNOWN.DAMAGE SOURCE: UNKNOWN.ARMOR BYPASS DETECTED.UNABLE TO CLASSIFY. UNABLE TO CLASSIFY.UNABLE TO CLASSIFY.It HURTS. The suit has never let anything hurt you before, not once, and whatever this is goes straight through the plate and into your bones and behind you Robes is screaming and sprinting full speed toward you with his staff raised-->Hold on. She's not evil. She's scared. Stay connected -- show her something good.>Rip free. Break the link. Now.>Grab Robes. Throw him into the tree. A failproof strategy.>Write-in
>>6387173>Grab Robes. Throw him into the tree. A failproof strategy.
>>6387173>Hold on. She's not evil. She's scared. Stay connected -- show her something good.lol what a wuss. Imagine if she saw that rat mutant friend of ours
>>6387173>Write-in>Grab Robes, take his staff. Try not to break it.I don't know what your stick is about, but you shouldn't wave it at strangers like that. It's impolite.
>>6387173>Hold on. She's not evil. She's scared. Stay connected -- show her something good.
>>6387173>>Hold on. She's not evil. She's scared. Stay connected -- show her something good.
>>6387269Supporting this first, to prevent him doing anything regrettable to either of us. Who even knows whose side he's on in a fight between us and a... Tree mutant?Then:>Hold on. She's not evil. She's scared. Stay connected -- show her something good.Maybe one of those romcpm scenes? Maybe a hydroponic farm? Whatever we've got with pleasant plants.>>6387173
>>6387173>Grab Robes. Smash him into the tree until they both paste. Rip the hostile flora out by the roots and tear the girl into bits. Eat the remaining ground stew of flesh and veg, all part of a balanced diet.
>>6387173>>Grab Robes. Throw him into the tree. A failproof strategy.
>>6387173>Hold on. She's not evil. She's scared. Stay connected -- show her something good.Hard to get mad at someone that looks 8 years old.
>>6387626Bullshit. If you aren't willing to dropkick a child you ain't built for the streets cuh
>>6387173>Grab Robes. Throw him into the tree. A failproof strategy.We are under attack! All parties involved are now considered enemy combatants! We must now take (in)appropriate measures to ensure the safety of our person!
>>6387641Correct, I am not built for the streets, unlike your mother.
>>6387805Oh you saucy bitch.
OP? You still around?
>>6387981Here's hoping. It was off to a very cool start.
>>6387981coping and seething with work guys, bear with me. update tonight.
>>6388006Glad to hear you're still around! Sorry to hear about your work being tough.
>>6387173You hold on.Good memory. Send her a good memory. You dig through your head like you're looking for that secret stash of painkillers after a relapse.Wasteland. Worse wasteland. Sergeant Jeppson catching a scav sniper round the moment he opened his helmet to light up a Chesterfield. Burying the stupid dog that followed you around for a year after he got into a scuffle with bugs. The three weeks you ate nothing but irradiated gecko jerky and it came out both ends--Wait. Is your life... actually miserable?No. It's the trees that are wrong.OPERATOR DISTRESS DETECTED.Querying media archive... 1 FILE.Recommend playback for morale.Oh yeah. That'll work.There's a guy in a flat pork-pie hat, and he's a projectionist in a movie theater, and he falls asleep at work and dreams himself right into the film he's supposed to be running. The scene keeps cutting on him -- one second he's standing on a garden path, and then the film splices and he's on the edge of a cliff, and then he's in the middle of a busy street with cars bearing down on him, and then he's on a rock in the ocean with waves crashing over his head. Every time he gets his balance the world yanks itself out from under him and he just keeps going, the same perfect deadpan, stumbling from one disaster into the next without ever breaking composure. The old stone face has never failed you, no matter how down in the dumps you got.You grab that feeling with both hands and shove it down the link.Her screams gradually fade. She finds the projectionist on his cliff edge, the ocean slapping him sideways, and a bright confused ripple runs through the link. She gets to the part where the street cuts to a snowbank and the guy just stands up and keeps walking, and you can feel her laughing -- a weird wooden creaking sound, like a branch in the wind. The roots around your arms slacken. The twigs stop digging. She plays the street-to-snowbank cut again, and the creaking gets louder, and by the third time through she's shaking so hard that little green leaves are falling out of her hair, rocking gently to the ground. You're OK. She's OK. Everything is hunky dory, as Sergeant Jeppson used to say.A bolt of red-white flame hits the tree six inches from your hand.The bark blows apart. The bark-girl shrieks -- out loud this time, not just in your head. The tree heaves sideways. Robes is ten feet away with his staff lit up like a welding torch, his considerable forehead mirror shiny with sweat, hands already lining up for a second shot."STOP." External speakers, full volume. He flinches back a step. But he doesn't understand the word. He plants his feet. Steadies the staff. Aims.>Draw and fire your weapon. 1% juice, non-lethal.>Helmet off. Pop the seals. A human face to the request might translate better.>Step aside. Maybe he knows something you don't.>Write-in
>>6388051>Pick up bark-girl and throw her at Robes, then run over and beat them both until they're a black and blue mess on the grass.
>>6388051>>Write-in>Just grab 'em. Bear hug. Robes is a little wuss and the tree gal looks 90lbs soaking wet. Can't use his funny energy weapon if he's busy being grabbed!
>>6388051>>Draw and fire your weapon. 1% juice, non-lethal.
>>6388051>>6388060+1 this but also try to calm him down like a cat. You know, 'pspsps' into his ear and stuff
>>6388051>Draw and fire your weapon. 1% juice, non-lethal.Eat a taser, wizard.
>>6386855Hmm. Something new, and sci-fi. I'll bite, QM. Bookmarked, and you have a new reader.
>>6388051>Step aside. Maybe he knows something you don't.
>>6388051>Helmet off. Pop the seals. A human face to the request might translate better.We don’t speak the same language, he probably thinks our shout of stop was a shout of pain. We should show him a face not in distress.
>>6388051>Write-in>Standard CQC, rush, disarm then pacify Robes.
>>6388060+1
>>6388051>Draw and fire your weapon. 1% juice, non-lethal.>Pop off helmet once he's not actively destroying our new friend's (literal) treehouse.
>>6388051The 40KW phased plasma rifle unfolds from your back and seats itself in your hand with a clunk you've heard ten thousand times. At ten feet, the targeting computer is almost insulted.You squeeze.Blue-white flash -- the whole hilltop lights up like a star touched down on it. That's weird. Stun mode only uses a fraction of the full juice the gun can draw, it shouldn't have had such a dramatic effect. At any rate, Robes' gets thrown backward about ten feet, staff bouncing away across the stones. He doesn't get back up.JUICE remaining: 99%.The bark-girl stares at Robes in the grass. At you. At the rifle. She sinks backward into the scorched trunk without a sound, bark closing over her face like water, and the presence (which had become kind of pleasant) in the back of your skull goes with her. Your head now feels like a room after everyone's left the party.You holster the rifle and go check on Robes. Thermals indicate no burns and a solid pulse. His right sleeve's ridden up past the wrist and there's a mark on his forearm -- not a tattoo, and too orderly to be a scar. A brand, deliberate and angular, shaped like a little tower, like the rook in a game of chess. This kid belongs to somebody. Where you come from, you only brand what you own. And only if you're one of the bad guys.His parchment lies crumpled in the grass, covered in symbols and geometric drawings that would likely be nonsense to you even if the suit could translate them.Hoofbeats.A white horse trots up the south trail, and your prefrontal cortex steps out for a walk. You have seen horses before -- dead ones, mostly, and plenty in the old westerns. But, like the trees, this is the real thing, white coat, flowing mane, muscles working under the skin like smooth, perfect pistons, nostrils slightly moist from being recently licked. It whinnies a little as it comes to a stop in front of you. Is that... a horn on its head? It's a goddamn unicorn.You would die for this animal right now, on this hill, no questions asked.There is a man riding it. You barely even register him. The man, however, certainly registers you. He's wearing armor as well, about a millenia out of date: steel mail with a surcoat and a full helm. He dismounts, plants his lance, bows at you with one hand on his stomach, and begins delivering a rapid, completely incomrephensible speech directly at your faceplate while you try to manuever around him to see the horse better.Another guy, this one even younger than Robes, scrambles up the trail dragging a mule behind him by the reins. Meanwhile the knight has finished his speech and is now drawing his sword and settling into a fighting stance.>Let him swing. The gauntlet can take it no sweat -- catch the sword then yank it away. >Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.>Kneel. Universal gesture. Anyone who can mount a unicorn deserves your respect.>Write-in
>>6388651>Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.Approach slowly. We don't want to scare such a majestic creature.
>>6388651>Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.
>>6388651>Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.This is turning into the best day of our Powerarmored life
>>6388651>>Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.
>>6388651>Rip the man out of time's arms off, then rip off his mail like a rag and use it to scrape the goop off your crotch finally. Steal the weak man's unicorn, as he is clearly undeserving of it.
>>6388651>Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.Pet the tree, pet the horse
>>6388651>Kneel. Universal gesture. Anyone who can mount a unicorn deserves your respect.The sacrifices he's made....
>>6388651>Kneel. Universal gesture. Anyone who can mount a unicorn deserves your respect.The unicorn would probably impale us if the knight doesn't first.
>>6388651>Unicorn. It's a unicorn. It's an actual honest-to-god living mythical creature. Pet it.I kind of want to facetank the sword first then just ignore him but this is pretty funny too
>>6388651You walk right past the knight.The kid with the mule shouts something and grabs your arm. You could not feel this less if he were grabbing a lamppost. He's pointing at the unicorn, then at the knight, then back, and his face wears the universal expression for "please do not do the thing you are about to do."You ignore him.Her nose is warm and impossibly soft against your gauntlet. She sniffs your fingers with the delicate suspicion of a duchess inspecting the appetizer course. Up close the horn is faintly translucent, like someone carved it from solid moonlight.She pulls back. The horn begins to glow.A bolt of lightning drops out of a clear blue sky and hits you directly in the chest with tremendous noise. Some smoke, then, a cheerful ding from the computer.JUICE: 100%.WARNING: Discharge inconsistent with atmospheric electrical event. Source localization failed.The kid's mouth is agape. The knight has dropped his sword. Even the unicorn has an expression of mute wonder on its face.You pet her again.Behind you the knight has completely lost it. He's shouting, his voice cracking, stomping his feet. You think he might be upset.The shouting wakes Robes.He sits up holding his head, sees you petting the knight's unicorn, and immediately scrambles up and starts talking at you, gesturing wildly, and you're sure it's very important but you just remembered you have a piece of gecko jerky in your hip compartment. The knight looks at Robes. When he speaks again his voice low and deliberate. Whatever he said makes Robes go white as bird shit. He backs up a step, hands raised, talking fast.The unicorn takes the piece of offered jerky out of your fingers and chews nervously as if held at gunpoint. A moment later it's chomping at your hand for more.The knight is shouting again, advancing on Robes, sword in hand. Robes is backing away toward the stone circle, calling at you. >Step between them. Break it up.>Step back. Probably best not get involved in local matters.>Pick up Robes and run. Don't fight. Don't surrender him. Just leave.>Write-in
>>6389055>Allow the unicorn to mount us, then toboggan down the hills and plains on robes adequately flat body.
>>6389055>Step between them. Break it up.
>>6389055>Step between them. Break it up.Woah woah woah, you're going to upset the beautiful magical steed!
>>6389055>Step between them. Break it upIt does seem as though robes brought us here from our nightmare world. If true it’s because of him we got to pet a unicorn and hug a tree, and we owe him deeply.
>>6389055>Step between them. Break it up.>Write-in >"Stop already." - External speakers
>>6389055>Step between them. Break it up.>Write-inThe thing in the tree can communicate with us right? Can't it also serve as an intermediary?
>>6389055>Step between them. Break it up.COOL IT!OOLIT!
>>6389055>>Step between them. Break it up.>>6389114bro also stepped up and started blasting when he thought we were in danger. feel bad about tasinghim>>6389266also this, we need to communicate more
>>6389114I wonder if he can summon any of our other buddies.
>>6389055The knight's sword is already in motion by the time you get there. The blade catches you dead across the chestplate with a sound like someone hitting a cathedral bell with a lead pipe, and the rebound whips his arm back so hard he staggers into his own backswing and falls flat on his ass. He sits up, stares at the blade -- there's a notch in the steel deep enough to lose a thumb in -- and then stares at you, at the spot where he struck you, where there is nothing at all.No movement. Even the insects seem to hold their breath. The only creature on this hill not turned to stone is the unicorn, who has found more gecko jerky in the grass and is chewing with an air of philosophical detachment.Your HUD flickers. For the first time since you arrived, the computer deigns to print out the full tactical display.=========================STATUSJUICE [||||||||||||||||||||] 100% | +1%/hrSYSTEMSSERVOS -- OFF [o-] ONSENSORS -- OFF [o-] ONCOMPUTER -- OFF [o-] ONSEALED -- OFF [o-] ONRIFLE (x) STUN 1% ( ) BEAM 3% ( ) BLAST 10%ARMOR NOMINAL -- last impact: NEGLIGIBLEDATABASETRANSLATION -- 23 samples | next: 50SCANS -- 3 entriesMEDIA -- 6 files bkeaton_2.mp4 field_manual_x02.pdf playlist_bbw.m3u mixtape.m3u bunker_9_photo.png 0x57414b45.bin #WARNING: UNKNOWN PROGRAM DETECTED=========================Huh, you don't remember seeing that last file before. And it looks like the computer needs more samples for the translation. Giving it some more juice might help. Or you could activate the servos and throw this guy around a bit -- or just get the hell out of dodge. Speaking of which, where is dodge exactly? A full sensor sweep might clear that up.The knight speaks again, keeping the notched blade pointed nervously at your chest while he addresses the wizard behind you. Whatever he says makes Robes flinch like he's been slapped. The wizard fires back, pointing at the stones, at the sky, then at you. The squire chimes in from behind the mule, shrill and fast.You're getting bored.>Activate COMPUTER [write-in] (1% JUICE)>Do a full scan with SENSORS (1% JUICE)>Activate SERVOS [write-in] (3% JUICE)>Blast mixtape.m3u on external speakers.>Keep everything offline. Wait them out.>Write-in
>>6389944>Write-inGo talk to the tree and pet the unicorn again. Both were chill and cool. Just make sure to record more translation samples while they talk
>>6389944>Do a full scan with SENSORS (1% JUICE)If there are actual bushes nearby I'm gonna freak the fuck out
>>6389944>Activate COMPUTER [TRANSLATION] (1% JUICE)Gotta figure out what the hell these dudes are saying
>>6389993+1
>>6389944>Blast mixtape.m3u on external speakers.Start dancing too.
>>6389944>Activate COMPUTER [write-in] (1% JUICE)>Do a full scan with SENSORS (1% JUICE)I hope these arent mutually exclusive. If they are i vote for translate first>0x57414b45.bin When converted w/ascii this becomes >WAKE.bin
>>6389944>Do a full scan with SENSORS (1% JUICE)
>>6389944>Write-in>Point at the ground near the knight with one free hand.>"Stay goddamn there. And dont try again." - External speakers>Do a full scan with SENSORS (1% JUICE)Get a scan of the area going.
>>6389944>Activate COMPUTER [Read field_manual_x02.pdf] (1% JUICE)>Blast mixtape.m3u on external speakers.>Sit on the Knight
>>6390353>"Stay goddamn there. And dont try again." - External speakersJust like we don't understand their language, they don't understand ours.
>>6390353+1>>6390478Doesn't matter. We'll communicate with tone and gesture!>>6389944
>>6389944SENSORS -- OFF [-o] ON -- 1%JUICE [|||||||||||||||||||.] 99%You point one gauntleted finger at the dirt in front of the knight."STAY GODDAMN THERE. AND DON'T TRY AGAIN."External speakers, full blast. He doesn't understand the words but he reads the finger fine. With a quick flick of his wrist, he lowers the blade and plants it point-first in the dirt. Takes his hand off the grip.Good enough. Meanwhile, the sensors are already painting the hilltop.SENSOR SWEEP COMPLETE.Knight, squire -- looks human. Skeleton, usual organs. No anomaly.Mule -- equine. No anomaly (not that you'd really know).Sword -- ferrous alloy. Some structural damage.Wizard -- human. ANOMALY DETECTEDUnicorn -- ANOMALY DETECTEDSubsurface -- ANOMALY DETECTEDTERRAIN (elevated, 360):S: Road. 0.3km. Recent traffic.NE: Structure. 4.2km. Bearing 042.W: Forest. Thermal contacts. 0.8km. MOVING.E: River. 1.1km. Fresh water.Anomaly appears to be some kind of unknown radiation field. Robes is wrapped in a coat of it that shimmers and undulates like Northern lights. There's a tight beam going into his forearm, coming from the northeast -- it's pulsing at a regular interval -- 7 seconds exactly, down to the millisecond.The unicorn has the same shimmer but blazing, concentrated on the horn, recieving from all directions at once. The ground under the tree is thick with it too, rising through roots, getting stronger as it goes deeper underground until it's abruptly cut off -- the sensor's maximum range.You could give the COMPUTER a crack at analyzing these signatures later.The helmet has a telescopic zoom function. You use it now. The optics instantly pinch kilometers of distance, bringing to your sight a cylinder of gray crenellated stone rising above the treeline. Bearing 042. Roughly the same direction as the beam to Robes's forearm. Too far to peek inside or map out from here.You sweep west. Switch to thermals. Movement between the trunks in the forest, 800 meters out -- low shapes in tight formation. The heat signatures flicker in and out, here one second, completely gone the next. You've never seen it do that before. The shapes are strange -- 4-legged, with what you'd guess is a tail that curves up like a scorpion stinger, and a small hump on the back that... moves? South: a road winding away from the tower. Wheel ruts, hoofprints. Well-traveled. East: a river in the valley, catching the sun. You wonder what fresh water tastes like. Probably not like recycled piss.>Follow the road south -- away from the tower>Northeast -- toward the tower and the signal>West -- into the forest, toward whatever that was>East -- the river, fresh water, open ground>Stay on the hilltop>Write-in
>>6391384> >East -- the river, fresh water, open groundAway from the displacer beasts? and towards clean water.
>>6391384>Northeast -- toward the tower and the signal>Grab Robes.
>>6391384>Point at Robes and the Knight, then at ourselves. Follow me.>Northeast -- toward the tower and the signal
>>6391429+1, let's get answers from whoever is in charge around here.>>6391384
>>6391384>>6391429+1! C'MON, SQUISHY FRIENDS
>>6391384>Northeast -- toward the tower and the signal
>>6391429+1
>>6391384You point the rifle at the knight. Then the wizard. Then northeast, at the tower above the treeline. Walk two fingers through the air.The knight draws himself up and begins a speech. You let him finish. Then you jut your finger at the tower.They follow.You have to hand it to the group: it's a hell of an adventuring party. The prewar paperback covers strewn on the floors of the Bunker 9 latrine (covers were too hard to wipe with) had heroes and wizards and noble steeds marching toward distant towers. This looks exactly like that--if the hero had a plasma rifle and everyone else was a hostage.The knight walks ten paces ahead, spine straight as a pike shaft, seething enough to heat a small barracks. The squire trails him, dragging the mule by its reins, sneaking glances at you. The wizard stumbles along at your elbow, chattering without pause. He points at the tower. Shakes his head. Points at himself. Drags a finger across his throat. Points at the tower again.TRANSLATION: 34 SAMPLES. NEXT THRESHOLD: 50.The unicorn trots at your right flank with perfect serenity, occasionally bumping her nose against the hip compartment where you kept the jerky. You slip her the very last piece. She chews with her eyes half-closed in pleasure.The tower fills the treeline as you close the distance. Gray weathered stone, eight stories, no windows below the fifth floor. A pennant hangs dead from the parapet. The trail becomes packed dirt with wheel ruts worn deep enough to turn an ankle.The wizard stops walking. The brand on his forearm is glowing through the sleeve -- a dull orange. On thermals, fifteen degrees above baseline and climbing. He grabs your gauntlet, says one word twice, points at the ground, and folds his arms.You grab his collar and keep walking.The knight falls back to walk beside the wizard. They're singing a different tune now, mutterings and whispers. But whatever the knight is saying, the wizard shakes his head.Up close the tower has no seams, no mortar -- the whole thing cut from a single piece of stone. The iron door is twice your height and shut tight.You knock, gauntlet on iron, and the boom carries for miles.Nothing answers.There is a recess in the wall beside the door -- narrow, vertical, the length of a forearm. At its base, carved into the stone: an angular tower symbol. The same mark branded on the wizard's arm.The wizard sees it and stops talking. He holds his branded arm against his chest protectively.The knight sees it too and steps back.>Force his arm in the slot.>Activate SERVOS to climb to the 5th floor. Solo entry. (3% juice)>Create your own entrance. Rifle, full power BLAST. (10% juice)>Write-in
>>6392788>Create your own entrance. Rifle, full power BLAST. (10% juice)
>>6392788>Create your own entrance. Rifle, full power BLAST. (10% juice)KNOCK KNOCK
>>6392788>Activate SERVOS to climb to the 5th floor. Solo entry. (3% juice)We don't actually know who the good guys (if any) are in these parts. Best nor to ruin the locals' domicile.
>>6392788>Activate SERVOS to climb to the 5th floor. Solo entry. (3% juice)
>>6392957+1, seems unwise to blow things up right away. we can always go to plan B
>>6392788>>Write-inSee if we can continue farming translation samples to start getting information on what's going on here and what these clowns are saying. Right now, we're retardmaxxing by not using out suit's capabilities and running around blind. We may be in power armor, but magic exists here, and we don't know how potent the magic is (it may be able to best us without our armor). Learning how to speak to the niggas who are indigenous to the world seems like a rational first step.
