MSNPC Akorem Laan - The Enemy, Part 2

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Quentin Beck

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Dec 29, 2024, 1:33:04 AM12/29/24

to USS Ronin – StarBase 118 Star Trek PBEM RPG

((The Tunnels Under B'Hala, "Artisan District", Kendra Provence, Bajor.))

Carpenter: You DO know where you're goin', right?

His smile was humorless, not that she could see it with him leading the way.

Akorem: I know this labyrinth like the back of my hand. These tunnels wind under the entire quarter.

Carpenter: Copy. Those Things were using ion weapons. They mean to take you alive. Any idea why? Maybe they want those? ::she points to the sheaf of papers he had been carrying.::

He paused just before reaching a courtyard of sorts, a junction large enough for them to gather. In the old days, it had served as a meeting ground for the artisans, lined with stone benches on the lower level and along the balconies above attached to the raised upper-walkways. He looked down at his poem, frowning slightly.

Akorem: I don't see why, no one has read it but me. It's incomplete. I thought it would be the death of me, but only metaphorically - people don't usually try to actually kill the author.

Carpenter: Yeah, well, everybody's a critic. But I wanna thank you for getting us here.

He was surprised by how much he actually appreciated her thanks. The attack had sobered him quickly, but he didn't need to be sober to recognize what had just happened. He opened his mouth to mirror the thanks, though she had already turned her attention to the others. Allowing them to converse, he looked at each of the three stairways they could take and considered the safest direction to go. He also removed one of the torches from the wall, allowing them all to see more clearly.

Carpenter: How about y'all? Holdin' up okay?

Tucker: A little banged up, Major, but other than that, I’m about as fine as you could be in our situation.

Tucking the pages into a folio he'd grabbed on the way down and then the folio under one arm, Laan opened the lapel of his jacket and reached in to open a small pocket stitched to the inside and removed a small flask, which he twisted open and raised to take a swig in one swift movement. It helped to calm his nerves.

He felt their eyes on him and studied them all intently for a moment before tucking the flask away again and indicating the steps to their left.

Akorem: This path will take us to the Old House. ::muttering:: Idiots don't know about the Old House… ::louder:: we should be safer there.

Carpenter: Think we're headed to some kinda safe house hopefully. Though knowin' him like we do now, it's probably some bachelor pad type nonsense.

He felt that should have been obvious when he'd said the word 'safer', but the whole group had developed a more aggressive attitude with him in general. He never claimed to be easy to work with, but it didn't exactly inspire him to offer more information.

Akorem: You do know you have to lower your voice to whisper something out of earshot, yes?

Carpenter: I wasn't lowerin' my voice. You can hear whatever you like, mister!

Only proving his point - the more they pushed against him, the more he would cooperate at the bare minimum. She turned back to the group again.

Carpenter: Report.

Syrex: Err.. Squad.. We have a minor issue.

A deep frown pulled at one side of Laan's mouth when he saw what had transpired, and for the first time since meeting this group, he actually felt something like sympathy for the poor girl who'd lost an eye. When he was younger, he'd been in an accident and suffered extensive nerve damage in his left hand. He lacked sensation in each of those fingertips and had to learn how to function with that little feeling there was in his palm.

Tucker: ::shaking his head:: Oh, man. I’m soo sorry.

Dekas: Lean on m-me ifff you’re d-dizzy.

Laan wasn't sure what to say. He felt expressing his sympathy would fall on deaf ears; he might have promised more medical supplies once they reached the Old House, but he couldn't be sure the last time it had been stocked. He wasn't the only one with access, even if the others rarely visited.

Carpenter: Was it when they let loose at the end? Those...Them? I don't even know what to call 'em yet…

Syrex: Back there, one of those.. People, they hit my face… I… I think my eye is gone.

The Poet's brow furrowed with suspicious confusion. Any Bajoran would recognize the symbol of Kosst Amojan. Most had the sense not to believe a word, but they would at least be familiar with the group. The armor was strange, as they had not been a militant group up til now, and the equipment the soldiers had been using was… odd, to say the least. But these people seemed like they didn't know a damn thing.

Tucker: One back there is headed here; they weren’t far behind.

Kosst Amojan Soldier: HALT NOW! You might be spared.

The voice filtered down the corridor, sounding a lot closer than it actually was; the soldiers would be able to follow, but that set of stairs was narrow enough that it would take them some time to navigate. Even so - haste was the word of the day.

Carpenter: We've got wounded here! We can't deal with them on the run!

A few wild shots followed them down the tunnel, but mostly just impacted dirt; they were at too steep of an angle to get a clear shot, but that wouldn't be for long.

Akorem: I said before, we'll be safer at the Old House. But we have to keep moving if we want to get there before they catch up to us. I am sorry for the loss of your friend's eye, but lingering here will only bring them upon us sooner.

Syrex: ::Voice Trembling:: I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I ::looks at the poet, knowing he cannot know why they are really here:: I am the groups.. healer. I hoped I could deal with it allowing the rest of you to focus on your own work.

Tucker: Now is not the time for apologies, we must get a move on. ::shooing people back down the tunnel.::

Dekas: N-no apologies anyway. Not you’re fffault.

Kisra was… removing accessories? After taking a drink from her waterskin, and shoving them into her bag. The way she moved was… foreign to him, even for a soldier. As if she felt uncomfortable in her skin. He made a mental note of it, then turned his attention to Xerys, who was wrapping a bandage around her head skillfully. At least she wasn't lying about being a medic.

Syrex: Thanks, budd- Ahh! ::grabs her make-do bandage, applying pressure:: oh boy it hurts, what I wouldn’t give for something to dull the pain.. ::takes a deep breath out::

Carpenter: Just please take it easy for now. ::she turns with narrowed eyes toward Akorem:: Fat lot of good you were…

That earned a legitimate snort and a humorless laugh, his free hand rising to press his palm against his forehead as he looked up at the cave ceiling.

Akorem: I'm sorry, what do you expect me to do against a lumbering creature like that? I am an artist, I work with clay and paper and writing implements and tools. While some would say the pen is mightier than the sword, I would posit that's just a metaphor. ::pausing:: That means a figure of speech, in case you fail to grasp it.

Tucker: This is going to sound insane, but we need to get something from the workshop, hopefully, when things mellow out, we’ve just got to lose the tagalongs…we need ::looking at Laan::those plans, but how? We can’t just force our back the way we came; we don’t have the numbers.

Syrex: ::Gasping for air:: You’re right… That is insane! What could be worth going through that again?

Carpenter: Evidence we were there, for one. And I think They have some sort of secondary objective. ::she points right to Laan.:: Involving you, Maestro.

Akorem: ::shaking his head:: I still don't understand what it could possibly be…

That wasn't entirely true. Laan was beginning to believe he knew exactly why they were trying to capture him, though it still didn't make any real amount of sense. The Kosst Amojan would be interested in his prior works in regards to the Emissary, but those were just prophecies, with no indication when they might actually come to pass. Prophecies inspired by the Prophets.

Shaking his head again, he turned to head up the steps towards the tunnel entrance on their left that would lead them towards the Old House.

Tucker: So, Master Poet, how often have they done this to you?

Akorem: ::laughing again:: This, specifically? Never. Broken a window with a warning? Countless times. I said before, they were never violent until today.

Tucker: Seriously? Holy crap, man.

Akorem: There are always parties threatening each other, but rarely do they actually follow through with it. They would rather debate what values we should follow, whether or not the Prophets are real. Whether or not progress should be allowed to march forward; and whether or not that progress will have an impact on our faith. The Prophets have been watching over us for millennia, have sent us the Orbs as proof, have conferred with a handful of chosen people to provide inspiration; yet still they argue.

Dekas: ::under his breath:: P-Personally, I’m not s-surbrised.

Carpenter: We can't chance a long movement. What's the nearest, safest place we can go? We hole up there, maybe we can slip past them and then get back to the workshop as quick'er than a jackrabbit

Akorem: ::sighing:: The Old House is still the safest place, though it is perhaps farther than you'd like.

There came another scraping of boots from behind them, lights crossing over each other in the chamber they had just left; they had not made enough progress, that much was certain. The group pressed themselves against one of the walls, though thankfully it seemed they hadn't been noticed. Voices carried, far more than just the three Kosst Amojan that had attacked his workshop, but they grew smaller and more distant, having chosen to take a different tunnel. Laan let out a breath of relief.

Tucker: Do you have a backup set of schematics for your ship? Or are you just the one-and-done type?

Syrex: Or any… Err… components left over from thee… err… last you made ship..

Akorem: The components remain in my workshop, assuming they didn't burn everything down. As for the schematics…

Carpenter: In a safe or something' I would hope?

Akorem: ::tapping his temple:: Right here. Divine inspiration from the Prophets… and a photogenic memory. By the Will of the Prophets.

Dekas: ::to Laan, with the clearest talking he’d had all day:: No one can say you didn’t m-make yourself useful, then.

He scoffed.

Akorem: Luckily, you all seem intent on trying to save me, or else I'd report you as the lower-caste trash you appear to be. Or do you treat everyone you're sent to 'help' in this manner?

Carpenter: Dae, please just see to...::she had forgotten their cover handles for the moment:: our Medic as best you could. Please and thank you,bud.

Dekas: RESPONSE

Tucker: RESPONSE

Fuming, Laan shot Kisra a withering look before shaking his head and turning to step further down the corridor, in the direction they were meant to go. He debated taking another swig from his flask, thought better of it and instead ripped open the folio so he could thumb through the pages of his poem. This work went particularly in depth regarding the Emissary, describing key events that would shape the future of the Bajoran people and possibly prevent the end-times.

The last stanza… it was arguably the most important, because it was meant to detail the final battle between the Prophets and the Pah-wraiths. But how could anyone have possibly known? No one had access to his workshop outside of his influence, and he was notorious for keeping his work secret until it was complete.

Laan was so focused on reasoning it out that he missed the entire interaction until he was addressed directly again.

Carpenter: Rork, Akorem, help Dae and Xerys as much and as quickly as you can. We all move for cover only and move only, if and when, I say to move. We all clear?

Syrex: Aye

Dekas: All clear.

Tucker: RESPONSE

His lips formed a thin line as he looked at each of them. Then he simply nodded. Arguing the point would only delay things further, and they were running out of time.

Carpenter: Poet, consider yourself conscripted at this point. And...I believe in you all. Truly. We are going to figure this out. Together. ::she eyed Akorem:: And trusting each other and our shared goals are going to see us all where we need to be.

Laan let out a shout of surprise as Kisra stood and one of the Kosst Amojan Soldiers appeared as if from nowhere, though he seemed just as surprised to have stumbled on their group. He had to admit one thing almost immediately - as strange as Kisra was, as out of place she seemed, she was apparently very good at her job. Her arm moved swiftly, as if it were simply following muscle memory, and whatever device had been on the soldier's belt was destroyed instantly. Everything else happened so quickly, he wasn't sure exactly what had happened until it was over; she stood, victorious, over the wounded soldier who had passed out from shock, her back to him as she fiddled with something she'd removed from the soldier's armor.

His curiosity was piqued. He considered stepping forward to try peeking over her shoulder, but she turned to pass out the equipment she'd removed from the soldier, weapons of some kind, and the soldier started screaming…? Before the armor suddenly shifted to something else entirely. The soldier spoke, obviously pleading, but now in a language Laan could not comprehend; strangely enough, the symbol of the Kosst Amojan remained, though it was now etched on the chestpiece of the thing's armor.

And then the soldier… imploded. Or at least, that was the only way Laan could think to describe it, with the way the armor folded in on itself and the man's body disappeared entirely, seemingly absorbed into the rusty armor bits. Each and every item was marked with the Kosst Amojan.

Akorem: ::under his breath:: By the Prophets…

Syrex: The hell just happened. Have I got a concussion?

Carpenter: W-we have to get back to Laan's workshop. Find some sort of egress. Stay ahead of the...::she mawkishly points to the pile of ruined metal and bile:: rest of his team.

Dekas: S-Stay ahead. Got it.

Tucker : RESPONSE

Carpenter: Just move as best you can and we will find help. Real help. ::she hoped they knew what she meant.::

Laan's feet had become dead weight as he stared at the remains of the Kosst Amojan Soldier, the armor seeming to have stopped shifting at this point after changing at least a dozen times. His brow furrowed heavily and his mouth moved, albeit silently, as he was having trouble finding his voice.

Carpenter: You got's a better idea there, Maestro?

Akorem: ::louder:: Who the hell are you people? What is going on?

'Kisra' approached, unslinging her bow, and for a moment he thought she would strike him; instead, she broke the bow down so she could remove the thin line that made up the bow's string. He watched her curiously, growing more anxious with each passing moment.

Carpenter: Just a second now…

She deposited the remains of her weapon in Rork's hands before turning to Laan again and taking his wrists. She tied them together, then to her wrist, as if he were some housepet on a lead. Although his jaw grew taut, he watched in utter silence.

Carpenter: If they took you now, they would have to take us all too. Which would also mean explaining us. And that's a problem these guys are NOT going to allow to get in the way of your messy show trial. So if we head back in a sort of incognito, grab the tools, maybe a ride out of here? We might just survive the day.

Syrex: ::Folding her arms and slanting her hips towards the poet:: An eye for an eye buddy.

Akorem: Makes all of Bajor blind. ::shaking his head:: I don't know who you are, but you are not Bajorans.

Tucker: Response

Carpenter: I'm thinking if we stay together, maybe find some coats and med-spikes, we can keep y'all at least somewhat stable until we find a med-bay or, God willin', the rest of the Ronin...

Akorem: And just what role shall I be playing, as I am obviously now a prisoner.

The faker Kisra turned to him, dragging him closer by pulling on the cable between them, and he let out a grunt of annoyance.

Carpenter: You're the best part. The Willing Bait/Distraction!

His eyes narrowed.

Akorem: You wouldn't.

Dekas: ::lowered voice:: So w-what? Arrre you… giving himmm to the Things?

Any Western Section Team/"Team Poet": RESPONSE

Dekas: I’ll f-f-follow your lead, then.

Syrex: Me too, medical supplies sound good right now, something tells me with the futuristic armour they wouldn’t care attacking us in broad daylight. Not that that’s a theory I’m willing to try.

Carpenter/Dekas/Tucker: Response

Syrex: Something tells me that’s the case, although I think my hearing has improved, all I can hear is my own heartbeat!

Carpenter/Dekas/Tucker: Response

Syrex: Yeah, Sorry… Back in the academy they used to call someone who was like that “The jigsaw” because whenever he faced a problem, he fell to pieces ::Stares right at Akorem:: Not unlike someone else we know eh?

Laan scoffed.

Akorem: The 'Things'. Fools, all of you. You have no idea what you're up against. Not if the Kosst Amojan have decided to embrace violence. ::to Syrex:: And in all my years, I have faced more problems than you will face in your entire lifetime, little girl. To the Fire Caves, with all of you.

With that, Laan sat down on the floor, crossed his legs, and dropped the folio from beneath his arm into his lap.