<span style='width:100%;font-weight:bold; font-size:10px'>Out of Character</span> <table class=ooc><tr><td> ...So you'll at leave have something to enjoy during this B-Movie plot. ~_^ Timestamp: Mia 15, 8137 </td></tr></table> Sah`Dja felt her spirits soar as she sprinted heedlessly through the jungle. This was what she spent hours upon weeks upon years of research for. To see the rough ground, claw-like branches, and thorny leaves tear at her to no avail, to hear her heart and lungs pump life throughout her without fail, and to feel her once frail body take on the worst a world could offer and joyously prevail. The scent of the jungle was rich and intoxicating, almost overwhelming, and to taste the dank air seemed almost exotic after so long a time away from any lush world. The dark, heavy leaves held the sun at bay, creating an air of depthless mystery. And then some of those dark, heavy leaves clung to her arm for just a moment, and for just a moment, ganked at her fur before she tore well away from their reach. <span style='color:gray'>Bleck, it’s going to take fucking hours to get all this slime and insects out of my damn fur. I’m going to be in a shower for a year.</span> The acidic smell of burnt foliage and brilliant sunlight assaulted Sah`Dja as she broke into an abrupt clearing, one that was made in the past hour by the looks of things. Trees snapped like twigs had bulldozed over the heavier underbrush and more or less trampled everything else. Curled and smoldering leaves still rested in heaps of scorched vegetation, every bit of which was really too damp to actually catch flame. In the center of it all rested a shuttle of familiar design and quite good shape, perhaps new under the brown and green smears covering its belly and wings. A broad ramp had settled itself deeply into the matt of crushed vegetation with an inviting flood of lights parting it from the shuttle’s shadow. Cool air with the slight aftertaste of a ship’s recycler flowed around her arms as Sah`Dja approached the base of the shuttle’s loading ramp. She took a moment to pity the crewman who would have to overhaul the its life support systems when this was over. A single male pendragon appeared above her and sauntered out of the ship’s belly. His legs, arms and chest bore light combat armor, probably for basic protection from the rather nasty jungle plants surrounding them. The male had the feel of age about him, with a fair share of scars on his arms and legs where the gray armor plates did not cover his black-striped, navy fur. Pristine white teeth and a glimmer of scuffed gum line showed through the missing bit of lip on the left side of his muzzle. And with his next step, it became apparent that his wing arms were actually wing stubs, well, minus the wings entirely. Sah`Dja winced inwardly as his rather grizzly features came into view and shifted the dart her eyes had made to his missing wings back to the male’s cold brown gaze. Her back and wings straightened as she fell into the stance she had seen given to her old captain from the Uritt’s crew and waited expectantly. Roiken canted his head towards her as a look of disgust spread across his face, <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Now why in all the hells are you standing below my ship, missy? I don’t have time to transport lost civilians back to whatever pathetic little hole in the ground they hail from."</span> “I’m reporting as ordered, um..." Shit, Sah`Dja had forgotten his name already. A hand slipped into her pack and retrieved the little AMC device she had been given upon signing up. Other than sending her orders, reports, propaganda and whatnot, the device appeared capable of being a comm. unit, which probably meant it was also being used to track her every location and possibly spy on her if some random higher up ever felt like doing so. For the moment, she recalled her orders onto its little screen and scrolled down to the name of the officer in charge of this little mission. “Is Femd Kynnumpaj Testament about?" <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“You’re looking at him, now give me that."</span> Roiken stepped forward to rudely snag the AMC from Sah`Dja’s hands and then returned with a step back as he began scanning through her orders, growing more and more displeased by the moment. He knew command was sending him some relatively fresh airmen, but to have this prissy femme forced upon him was insulting. She was wearing a blindingly pink school pack in the middle of this fucking jungle for crying out loud. <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Sah`Dja SableStar, then?"</span> “Actually, Sir, it’s just Sah`Dja," she said a touch hesitantly. Roiken shifted his gaze from the AMC and glared at her, <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Are you trying to tell me that what this says is wrong?"</span> “You see, they said I had to add family affiliation when I signed up, and whenever I have to do that, I just put SableStar. Really, it’s just ‘Dja’. But then you would say it separately, and then it’s technically not my name either...heh." The explanation was somewhat habitual, and stemmed from a respect of the culture that named her. Still, she felt like she had just made a huge misstep. <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Oh dear Goddess in Fronima, which idiot let a pansy-ass twit like you out of basic?"</span> Roiken put an abrupt halt to his tirade and let a sneer appear on his muzzle. Like an idiot, Sah`Dja had begun staring at him again. The reason was obvious, and although he was not sensitive about his injuries, she was still staring at him. <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“What is it, tcigelys rutek,"</span> he grated out harshly. Sah`Dja kind of felt sorry for the guy. Would have really felt sorry for the guy if, you know, he hadn’t looked like he was about eviscerate her. She turned her eyes away, “It’s nothing, Sir." <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Have you ever pulled the wings off a Slikip before, tcigelys rutek?"</span> Sah`Dja fidgeted slightly at thinking where that question could go. “No...Sir." Great, a pacifistic, pansy-ass twit. Who didn’t do that when they were a pup? <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Then what the hell are you doing in the U.S.R.?"</span> Roiken growled. “I’m sorry, Sir. Can I be a quiet disappointment now, Sir?" Sah`Dja did not quite know how she should feel at this juncture, whether to pity the guy, be annoyed with him, hate him, or just feel crushed. At the very least, she was a couple steps into annoyed. This was her first day on her first mission and she was completely untrained. He could at least give her a freaking break. Her jaw tightened visibly with that thought and muzzle scrunched back in the beginnings of a snarl. Roiken let a rather sinister smile take hold of his muzzle, <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Alright, tcigelys rutek, I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth unless I ask for it. You got me?"</span> Sah`Dja winced outright. That was not what she had meant. “Yes, Sir." <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“Now that we have the pleasantries aside, you are going to stand there until..."</span> Roiken canted his head to the other side and sneered. A single stride closed the distance between them, and he jammed her AMC into her pack then ripped the whole thing from her torso. The clasps simply snapped apart with the rough removal, and a little purple bit of plastic sailed off into the brush. The offensive pack was flung up into the belly of his shuttle as he grabbed her muzzle and hauled it up and forward before kicking her feet together. A step around behind and he collapsed her wings against her back with just as rough a hand. The final touch was to straighten her arms against her sides, even though they already were. She most likely needed the reminder anyway. He finished the circuit around her and returned to glaring into her eyes, only very up close and personal at this point. <span style='color:#4D7BFF'>“You are going to stand there like that until the other member of your team arrives. Your promptness is appreciated, by the way."</span> He turned and stalked up into the belly of his ship. <span style='color:gray'>This is not going to be a good day,</span> Sah`Dja said to herself with the smallest of her mental voices. Hell, between the half sneer aimed up at the shuttle and the wounded cast of her body, she was definitely going to be cramped up when whoever arrived thirty minutes from now. Well, if they were right on time, that is.
<h4>Out of Character</h4> Actually, I brought some Gardetto's snack mix. Want some? Heh. I (power-)played with Roiken, so tell me if anything is off about the way I portrayed him. Also, I made it as if there's a lot of amateurs here — like it's an insignicant mission that all the newbies were sent out for in order to get some experience and training. Tell me if that's not the way you wanted things to be planned. For the record, that doesn't mean it actually has to be a small mission, just that some high-up's merely thought it was... For all we know, it could be the most important discovery of the century. Onward, newbies! <h4>In Character</h4> For the moment, this part of the jungle was quiet. Dim light filtered down through the leafy canopy, falling upon an undisturbed forest floor, three inches thick with dead vegetation. The tree trunks all around were covered in a layer of tropical Aaaum, and it was apparent that this section of forestry had been left untouched for many months, perhaps years. It was wild, left to grow, develop, and flourish on its own. As if in testament to the untamed heart of this section of the Vivuli Jungle, a scuttling Whis scurried up a tree, pausing for a moment as a pane of mild sunlight pierced its fibrous, transluscent body. It then continued up the fluted Rojtsemd Yjumda Sjaa trunk, disappearing into the foliage. Silence and stillness resumed once more. However, the quietude was not meant to last. What started out as a distant thrashing soon grew louder and louder, until it was the unmistakeable sound of a body crashing through the underbrush. The same Whis popped its head out of a hole in a tree limb overhead, quivered for a few seconds as the racket clamored in the tropical air, and it then withdrew once more into its stowaway. Just seconds after, the source of the noise charged into view — a young pendragon struggling to make her way through the paltry wood. Her name was Stormwing, and as she plowed through a tangle of Pjudym Bema vines, curses leapt from her lips like tongues of flame. She was on an official mission, but, for the moment, she was solitary, and unhappy. She'd been dispatched into a remote region of the Vivuli Jungle, but no transportation had been provided. Her superiors simply commanded that she make her owny way through the unrelenting trees and growth. So far, the going had been tough. Unpleasant, as well, the female thought as she paused for a moment to wipe a spot of greasy substance off the sleeve of her official military personnel jacket, navy blue vinyl material with the letters "USR" printed in gold across the back. She wore a cap with matching text, which she adjusted as she hesitated and took stock of the environment in which she found herself. The plant life around her was rich, and she admired the way everything was wild and left to itself. Her feelings of frustration seemed to seep away from her as she looked up in awe at the luxurious leaves above her, but a sense of wariness never fled. Even as she noted the rich, colorful canopy, her white hand was on the butt of her gun, buckled safely into a holster at her hip. The Vivuli Jungle was gorgeous, of course, with an untameable sense of splendor. Yet, her training and her instict both told her that looks could be deceiving. This land was just as deadly as it was beautiful. "Got to be movin' on," Stormwing muttered after a few moments of spectating. She lifted the sleeve of her jacket and looked at her watch. She had exactly thirteen minutes to arrive at the rendezvous point — ground zero. The junior officer took a deep breath to prepare herself for the rough trek ahead, then plunged right into the growth, head down and tail flicking as she made her way through the wild plants. Ten minutes later, and the caramel pendragon found herself bursting forth into a clearing. The sudden absence of obstacles made her falter and nearly topple, but she found her equilibrium quickly, and stood still to look around. The earth beneath her feet was churned, and the trees on the edges of the makeshift clearing were charred and, at some points, bent or cracked. The cause of this disturbance was located at the brim of the copse, at the end of a path of plowed dirt. A space craft rested there, looking slightly dented and bruised, but not too worse for wear. Stormwing noted that the structure of the alien craft was quite impressive, as she finally finished taking stock and took a step forward to begin processing the information she had come here for. Picking her way over the devastated vegetation, the youthful kugsuem eventually made it to the flank of the ship. She put her white hands on her hips and whistled, as she admired its hull as she had admired the forestry just moments before. The construction was magnificent, and Stormwing knew that, once everything was properly logged, she would have one hell of a time picking this machine apart in the Janardan study base shop. Her heart drummed excitedly at the mere thought, and she took a baby step forward. She lay her palm flat on the side, and felt a cool resonance beneath her palm. "Amazing, amazing," was all she could utter, ears quivering with enthusiasm as she thought of what she should do first — seek out the supervisor, or simply find the ship's register and crack open the "hood," see what made this baby run, and what had made it fall to the earth? Fortunately — or unfortunately, depending on how one looks at it — the question answered itself. Stormwing heard a voice bark out a few orders behind her, and she twisted around. Her mismatched eyes fell upon a slightly familiar superior, and her tufted tail flicked nervously. She'd been in the USR ranks long enough to learn much about this particular pendragon — Roiken — and fear had been solidly implanted in her heart at all the stories she had heard about him. He was a no-nonsense, zero-tolerance type, whom threw his weight around and made his subordinates know their place at every possible second. Of course, she had been able to curry a little bit of favor with him, with her wily ways at a recent mission; nevertheless, she still felt tension creep into her limbs and a certain pang of apprehension riddled her ribs. She watched him across the clearing, as he pointed out directions to some amateur scene investigators, and then braced herself. Not long after she had seen and heard him, he had noticed her, as well. Now, as the young pendragons he had been ordering raced off like whipped curs, she straightened and saluted him, her heart pounding with every step of his approach. "Stormwing, correct?" he asked her in a fierce tone of voice, looming just inches away from her, eyes blazing. The banded female tried not to look at his scars, particularly at his clipped lip, but instead directly into his nostrils as he addressed her. When he spoke her name, she nodded firmly, then brieftly heightened her gaze to pierce his own. He nodded silently at her, then referred to a log book in the crook of his elbow. "At oh four hundred hours, an extraterrestrial space craft was spotted flying low over the Vivuli Jungle. It veered southwest almost as soon as it was detected on radar, and then it plunged into the trees. It crash landed, as you can obviously see. You have been summoned to ground zero in order to investigate the engine, and to perhaps identify the cause of the malfunction which caused the impact. You are also here to oversee as a military personnel. You hold rank over everyone here, except myself, and may give out orders as you see fit. Understood, young kugsuem?" Stormwing nodded once more, trying not to sigh in relief at his firm but not unfriendly timbre. She dared another glance into his eyes, and saw a twinkle of amusement there. At first, she thought that perhaps he liked her, and dared to hope that, by some hopeful chance, he had found special favor with her. But he soon corrected this way of thinking with a sound chuckle, as he gestured his head towards the space craft. "You will find your direct subordinate standing on the opposite side of the ship, in proper protocol and formation. You tell that tcigelys rutek that she'd better not mess up in any way, or let her prissy nature get in the way of our investigation. Do you understand, Stormwing?" "Yessir! Ten four. Understood, Roiken." One more nod was directed her way, and then the supervisor marched off, now shrieking out orders as a group of young photographers arrived from the jungle depths. Failing to notice the peculiarly high frequencey of youths assigned to this mission, Stormwing then turned to stroll around the large ship, to the other side, where the hatch was. It was without surprise that she discovered her "ground pounder" standing just below it, arms stiffly at her sides and chin up as she stared straight ahead. With a light giggle, the brown junior officer prodded Sah`Dja. "You can let up now."
<h4>Out of Character</h4> Right, so I'm a bit of a screw-up, and I accidentally deleted one of your posts when I was moving this thread around. Fortunately, I copied the entire thread, knowing I'd probably mess something up. So, here's the post that's supposed to be just prior to mine. I'm sorry about this. :( <h4>In Character</h4>“I’m Sah`Dja, ma’am, and it’s a pleasure to meet you… I guess I’m just your info tap on aliens and alien equipment." Stormwing’s pointed ears cocked as the other female spoke, and the caramel thill smiled lightly at the polite, enthusiastic introduction. Though Sah`Dja was not — could not be — aware, the ranking female had seen her before, and even observed her. She had been there when the golden-furred female had first enlisted, and had overseen her registration files, and then her assignments. She had also done research, using contemporary technology to glean any and all information she could on this peculiarly-named pendragon. She hadn’t learned anything of great surprise, but had known enough to recognize and identify Sah`Dja in a crowd, long before the two females had ever met face to face. However, all of that was just proper protocol, albeit a bit dishonest and sneaky, and Storm’ did not mention it. Instead, she allowed her small smile to widen into an enthused grin, nodding in bemused approval at the other’s statement about being an information tap. It was an apt description of what the “ground pounder’s" workload would be… while Storm’ had been called out to study the anatomy of the space vessel, it was Sah`Dja’s responsibility to oversee any possible organisms within. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, as well, Sah`Dja. My name is Stormwing, though you can call me Storm’ if you want. I’ll be the officer directly above you, so please report any and all findings to me. I’ll then issue them to a higher authority. How experienced are you, by the way, with extraterrestrials and their equipment?" The banded pendragon spoke swiftly, quickly switching from her own introduction to a conversation that was more relevant to their scenario. “I mean, I’ve read a bit about your background" — boy, was that an understatement — “and I saw that you have all the basic criteria in the field, and that you’re qualified to be here. But, I mean, what exactly have you done? Seen? Experienced?" When she had dug for information on her subordinate, Stormwing had only gotten cold, hard facts, and nothing else. Nothing about Sah`Dja’s personal life or experiences had been in any informational logs; her statistics, educational acquirements, and other such bits had been the extent of content Storm’ had discovered. Now, having read up on, and met, Sah`Dja herself, the russet lady wanted to inquire further, see how the other female articulated about herself. Even as she queried, and then awaited a response, Storm’ was looking at the ship, her two-toned gaze drinking in all the finer details. The shuttle’s loading ramp was open, and she could clearly see into the interior, which was painted with a sort of watery, grayscale light. The youthful investigator noted that, though the lighting was dim, there was cargo of some sort stored in the proper hatch, and that it should probably be thoroughly investigated and cleared before she freely entered the ship. Stormwing cast her eyes around to Sah`Dja, pondering just whose responsibility that would be, when a stiff, bitter odor wafted up the former’s nostrils. She snorted without thinking, bending over a bit and shaking her head, trying to divest the offensive odor from her olfactory tissues. When she had thoroughly cleared her passageways, she grimaced and looked up at the ship, wondering what in god’s name was causing that unpleasant smell… A burnt engine? Burning fuel? Melted metal? Or… “Alien farts?" She joked, raising her eyebrows wonderingly at her comrade.
Sah`Dja smirked and snorted something very close to the echo of a laugh. The comment struck her as odd more than funny, but she felt the morsel of humor in it still. And really, now that she had a whiff of what Stormwing scented, she felt herself beginning to agree. The scent niggled a memory in the back of her mind. It reminded her of something, a something that felt somewhat recent, relatively, and wonderfully obscured by what was definitely the smell of a common yet alien alloy corroding on them. She smiled and shrugged, “Seems our ship is melting a bit, but close enough I say. Hell, you could be right with a few of the critters I’ve seen." A knowing grin crept onto her muzzle as a sly glance fell on Stormwing, “And if you’re questioning me on what things alien I’ve experience with, then somebody really needs to be fired. Oh, I suppose they might have thought I’d been cloistered on the Uritt all that time, but in all actuality, I had an alien birthing ceremony about a week after I hatched and my name’s their gift to me. That sorta thing continued even after I got severely ill for so long." She gave a self-deprecating smirk, “Hell, my first crush was on a felid hexaped whose language we’re technically incapable of reproducing naturally." It was that, or get one on a crewmember generally thousands of years older than her and whom she considered an aunt or uncle or something. Secretly, said felid getting the drop on their team despite all precautions to the contrary helped more than just an eensie bit too. “I’ve got full immersion with all peaceful star faring races the Uritt came across, which required preps by our xeno specialists on their culture, technology, and biology beforehand. My knowledge of hostiles is a lot more spotty, but such is the sacrifice of not getting blown to bits." Sah`Dja’s grin turned sardonic then faded to a tone of feigned haughtiness while straightening herself up into a proper, scholarly stance with her fingers draped over her chest. “And I’ve personally done the reports for numerous biological and technological specimens that were officially logged when we made port." She snirked and let her real hubris win through, “I suppose I ain’t no expert, but I know more than most of them do." Sah`Dja hesitated then switched gears for a moment, “Eh, and I apologize if you discover any pertinent information was left out of my files." She grins a little nervously, “I’m pretty much an alien too, and my education might have slipped on some of the things generally expected of me." And there’s the bit where Sah`Dja faked her medical tests and scans, the entire gamut of physically information really. How would no doubt garner a few questions; why a few suspicions of loyalty; and as for what for, well, let’s just say the idea that appearances only go skin deep is a vast understatement in her case. No doubt some would be uncomfortably curious about her inner workings if their makeup became known. Sah`Dja let her emerald eyes follow that mismatched gaze up to the ship, turned herself to join it, and said simply, “So what’re my orders, Storm’?"
The young officer rubbed her muzzle absently with a white-fingered hand, attempting to completely rid herself of that rank odor, then let it drop to her side. Still wiggling her nose a bit, she turned her slender cranium away from the ship and towards her subordinate as the other spoke quite elaborately on her past and experiences. The scents and sights — and all thoughts, really — related to the crash site evaporated from Stormwing's mind like a puddle on a desert's dune. Sah`Dja's varying tones and gestures painted quite a picture for the ranking pendragon, and she found images of peculiar feline aliens creeping, crawling, and slithering through her mind's eye. She figured her mental portrait was fairly inaccurate, as she hadn't had much experience in the field of extraterrestrial relations, but her "ground pounder" sure told a great tale. Storm' continued to wriggle her bothered nose as she listened, now sweeping her gaze back towards the ship, but never letting her ears slip away from the sound of Sah`Dja's voice. "Eh, and I apologize if you discover any pertinent information was left out of my files. I’m pretty much an alien too, and my education might have slipped on some of the things generally expected of me," the femme finally finished up, just as Winger was tilting her head and noticing an odd gouge in the ship's hull, partially hidden by a shadow. The silence that ensued caused her to snap her gaze from the vessel, back to the 'alien' once again. "Your files had a quite a lot of information, and I admit I learned some other things by observations. But, it's a lot different — and better — to get the embellished details right from the horse's mouth, know what I mean?" She shifted her weight, and reached a white hand up to rub at her neck. She was thinking on two planes now, her brain jumping from Sah`Dja's interesting origins, to the cause of that curious cut in the space craft. She paused for a moment, then suavely blended the subjects. "Now, I know you said you were more of an expert on the friendly ET's, but what do you make of this scratch on the side of the ship? Somehow, I don't think it was caused by the impact. Just say it's a… hunch. If we study it, and get some samples labbed, think we could figure out if some sort of organism caused that? If we do that, then maybe we can figure out what made it, and perhaps where the ship itself came from. If you could identify the creature — which is probably hostile, just by looking at the size of that scratch — we could assume it's their species' ship. Or their species' enemies' ship, even? Assuming said species doesn't inflict damage on their own vessels. …In short, that's your first order: figure out what caused that big-ass scratch." She was reaching, grabbing at little bits and pieces of whimsy. She really didn't know much at all about the other planets, and their creatures, but hoped Sah`Dja could fill in the gaps for her. After all, that was why the two females had been paired up. While Stormwing was quickly becoming an expert on machina, how they operated, and what caused them to stop doing so, the golden 'dragon was her complement, knowing all about which space species drove such machines. Thus, it wasn't too pretentious to assume that, should they really put their heads together on this one, they would have their mystery solved, their files written, and their discoveries reported to Roiken by nightfall.
"Mmm?" Sah`Dja canted her head towards the big-ass scratch on the ship's prow and narrowed her eyes in consideration. Her lips quirked back to one side in a near grimace, regretful to be the bearer of a contrary opinion. "To be honest, I'd say meteoroid. There's a lot more of those out there than megafauna that can put a dent in hull plating. Maybe combat armor, but combat that close usually involves a lot more damage to the ship. An incredibly strong critter of nastiness would be third, only because a cannon would have a hell of a time getting that sort of angle." She rested a palm on her hip and shifted her weight to the opposite heel while her other palm rolled out to weigh another consideration, "But we can't really say for sure without a sample of the residue and a close inspection of the tearing on the metal." An 'oh well' sort of grin and roll of the shoulders was thrown Stormwing's way, "Basically, a couple high grade pictures and a small sample for the experts is the best we can do. Sure, I can make a good guess, but with the equipment I got here, it's gonna be a little tough figuring out what biomatter came from planet fall and what was left from whatever caused that scratch." Not to mention being the wrong person to ask whether said scratch was imprinted via claw, hunk of rock, or slug. Sah`Dja’s thoughts were interrupted with a sharp snort of her own doing followed by a rub of her nose against the back of her wrist, "Fuh, damn that smell. I keep thinking I know it from somewhere, and that bothers me. Closest thing I can remember involved some crazy space ship fuel. Pretty unstable, and damn toxic, but made for some incredible reaction mass. Part of that concoction involved an acid you just don't want to mess with, and if the glass cylinder cracked, then we've got a problem with our ship. Oh, and the glass cylinder has a habit of cracking, mostly during combat, but yanno, whenever works just fine for that too." She tilted her head towards the ship’s ramp and likewise motioned with her thumb, “How about we check out the engines? No real danger if we’re careful." An ear trained on Stormwing along with a hopeful grin. Rather akin to Stormy’s desires, or so she thought, Sah`Dja’s interests lay with the contents of the ship rather than simply staring at its skin.
Milk-soaked ears were erect, and Storm' listened raptly to her counterpart's every word. Sah`Dja seemed to have a lot to say — and the young military officer found herself enjoying just being quiet and listening, with a few nods and random noises to make her continued interest obvious. Just being in her subordinate's company seemed to make her more aware, and more knowledgeable about the goings-on of outer space. Sure, Sah`Dja only shared bits and pieces of what the caramel pendragon assumed was boundless bounties of information, but Storm's mental processes gobbled up every morsel of this "crash course." Even as she moved down the flank of the ship, towards the gangplank into its interior, she kept her ears pricked and her attention focused mostly on Sah`Dja, clinging to every word that dropped from the other's mouth. When the sun-furred female finally finished her diatribe, with a suggestion to finally start investigating, Storm' blinked and looked away from the entrace into the ship. She looked at the "ground pounder" only feet away, then began to chuckle. "I was so into everything you were saying, I practically forgot what we were here for. But, yes, let's! But, first…" Because she had, indeed, been listening very intently, Sah`Dja's mention of some photographs being taken had not been missed. Now, the hybrid-eyed thill swiveled on her white feet, gazing around the larger clearing that sprawled about them. She remembered having seen a group of awkward teenagers arrive from the bush soon after her own arrival, and now she flicked her ears and stared hard, peering around the vast space. She spotted a few of them straggling not too far away, studying a bit of churned earth, and she whistled. The three males looked up in surprise, and when she motioned them towards her, they obediently trotted over, their expressions puzzled and their eyes full of questions. "I'm Stormwing, and this is my… assistant, Sah`Dja." She pointed a whitened finger at the other female, then motioned towards the rather large scratch in the hull of their specimen ship. "We need you to take some really good photos of that gouge, and then either send them or take them back for analysis. Got it?" Her voice was firm but polite, and she gave a small smile when the boys nodded their understanding. As soon as they got to work, Storm' turned to face Sah`Dja once more. "Well, now that that's taken care of… shall we?" She rolled her shoulders towards the ship, then waved her hand in front of her face, still noting that the awful smell was pouring from inside. Hoping idly they wouldn't both be killed, she shrugged off her military jacket, and prepared to get down to business.
<h4>Out of Character</h4> I think it's official that this thread iis dying a slow death. It's interesting and all, but our conflicting schedules make it really tough to find time and inspiration for a flowing thread. I'm going to go ahead and archive this. Better to go quickly than to suffer and writhe and eventually crap out. :P
