Dec 30 02:25:23 107 PA - Gathering the Flock

From Chronicles

The clouds overhead are churning like a living thing, black winning largely over slate grey though on the Eastern horizon the occasional break allows a shaft of sunwhite to flare blindingly against the white horizon. The gates are far less populace, this close to the new year, as the line waiting to enter the city is composed entirely of mechanized transport. It's too cold for the beasts of burden that traditionally clog the way. Dusted with snow and looking frozen, an armored figure stands beside a sign, asking the few passers-by about its contents, though they seem few and far between.

The faint distant whine of a rocket engine steadily grows louder until an insectoidish figure drops into a clearing off from the gates from where flyers come and go. Vargus shakes his cloak a few times to jostle the snow and then stands motionless for a moment. His armor seems to ripple, from head to toe, cracking quite a bit of ice that must have formed from his ariel transport. He shakes himself once, again, and then looks around from the landing zone at the mechanized transports. A quick check of the display on his left wrist, and a shrug, and he moves toward the less populated pedestrian entrance.

"You, man-in-armor, there." It's a flat, mechanical voice that's coming from a box on Johnson's chest. He takes two steps towards Vargus, armor not half as alien but decidedly distinct from the norm. Johnson waves back at the posted warning halfway through asking, "Have you seen sign? Sign of sign, out there?" There seems to be a delay with the translation.

Vargus turns to look at Johnson, a tilt of the head as he sweeps his goggled eyes over his armor, then over to the sign where the other points. He does the 'looking-at-something-over-there-squint' and his brow ridges wrinkle. After a moment he slowly shakes his head, "Huhhh, I don't think so. I do a lot of visual navigation, not really a decent place to read charts when in the air, humm? So not really certain where that area is.. but, dragons. Nope, haven't seen any dragons.. as they do tend to stand out from the landscape."

"Not-dragon," the robot voice drones from Johnson's chest. "Even spoke to woman who put up sign. Is talking magic wolf, dead trees all around polluted lake. She say dragon because she not know what is. Think I dragon!" He shakes a little at the thought, though the voice box doesn't translate anything. "Is place of evil. Place of power. Need to find it, impress girl so she will join my school." He cocks his head to the right, that goggled gaze peering at Vargus as he wonders, "Sure you not see dead land, from sky?"

Vargus's head tilts slightly to the sky. "Now that's much more descriptive then 'Be on the look out for dragon. Arrrr'." he holds his hands up, palm out, and rocks his shoulders back and forth for emphasis, and then shakes his head with a chuckle. "Don't think so, no. Near a lake you say?" He turns and looks away from the city. "Lakes all over the place around here.. big one up to the north-west, I believe it was..." he trails off, then shakes his head again and looks back to Johnson. "You need to impress someone so they'll join your school, you said? What kind of school?"

"Near lake," Johnson agrees. "Sign funny. Dragon activity outside city. Dragon activity inside city too! Council-man-woman-person dragon, I think." He looks back towards the gates, shrugging, and then turns back towards Vargus. "Magic school. When I had money, I not buy thick armor. Bought books, make thick head! Thick head better than thick armor, for mage. But book learning slow, people learning fast. At school, people teach each other, research assignments, split up work. Like guild, but not just for big people. For small people. Make small people big."

Vargus furrows his brow again, "One more time on the dragon-man-woman-thing? I don't think that come through correctly." He nods with emphasis, "Ahhhh, I see. Yeah, I tried to get something like that together last year, or so. Didn't work out too well, could only find a few people, and nobody was interested for very long. Just kinda died out. I'd be interested in doing something along that line... I'm a shifter.. well, mostly."

"Big dragons in city," Johnson replies. "Members of town. Members of ... rulers. Not bad people. Dragon activity there too. Not so scary." He waves at the sign, boots crunching over the frozen earth as he walks to rattle it where it sits. "This scary. Makes people scared of dragons. Some dragons good, some dragons bad. Is like saying beware Kingsdale, human activity there!" He shakes his armored head and the translator buzzes, failing to understand whatever delightful tidbit he capped that statement with. "Tomorrow then. We start? Meet someplace. Trade spells. I teach you first. Sign of good faith. Then you teach me. I keep recruiting. Yes?"

Vargus listens to the dragon bit, then nods his head. "That's very true... it's rather racist, isn't it?" He chuckles a little. "Guess some things never change... even when everything does." He walks over and then nods again. "Sure, sounds good... I know of a few that were interested from before. Leonard, maybe... and Rasputin. Own that deli east of the square, near the dregs."

"Good!" Johnson replies. "Meet at gates, noon when sun high, then find quiet place. Away from eyes. Away from people in case magic goes wrong. You talk to your people. I talk to mine. Everyone learns a spell this week, even if it simple as climb walls like ant. No money, no pay. Yes?" He stares at Vargus, his armored head and voicebox fairly blank. He does seem excited, though.

Vargus nods his head, the corners of his helmet quirking as the face underneith smiles. "Sounds like a plan.. not sure when I'll be able to get to meeting the others, been busy of late. But I'll see what I can do. Ahhh, I'm Blake.. Blake Vargus." He offers his hand to Johnson.

"Black," Johnson greets, reaching for that hand, and then pauses. The speakerbox says 'Black,' again, and he reaches to the keypad on his arm. Typing there, he manages a 'Blaaack' before coming up with a halfway convincing 'Blake.' "My name is Johnson, Silas Johnson." He reaches for Vargus' hand with his gloved mitt, explaining, "It is my Christian name." Which sounds like a turn of phrase.

Vargus quirks and armored eyebrow again. "That's.... a very old phrase, from what I've read. Where abouts are you from? Or.. when, for that matter, I suppose. I was into research and archeology before I discovered my current vocation.. or, it found me. Either." He shrugs a bit.

"Is new to me," Johnson relays. "Where from?" The armored man points up. "From the center. Now on the rim. Wheel turns faster. Crushes people who go too far. More dangerous here. More interesting. See sky." Johnson looks up, the lenses on his helmet turning silently as they try, and fail to focus on clouds. "Sometimes."

Vargus is silent for a moment, then nods his head once. "That.. was confusing, but very profound. I'm just going to accept that translation, because the actual might not sound quite that cool."

"Gate," Johnson repeats, "Tomorrow. Highest sun-noon. Learn new spell. You come." He reaches to clap Vargus on the shoulder -- hard enough to stagger the man, more than likely, belying his small frame, and walks back towards the city. Apparently done with the sign for one day.

Vargus takes the shoulder-smack pretty well, as he's quite stocky for his frame. He gives Johnson a wave at his back. "Right, highest sun-noon." he gives the sign another glance and shakes his head. He thinks for a moment, then nods and pops a set of vibroclaws from his left gauntlet and cuts the sign down.