greensun
You shall all burn beneath my light!!!
Blando, or Balanodo, the Prince of Leeches!!!
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Ravana Quest [Exalted/Aberrant]
- Thread starter Havocfett
- Start date
I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'm Left, You're Right, She's Gone
Ravana calls Draupadi. Finding the Scourge is important. Getting his car back and clearing things up with Ilana? Less so.
She picks up almost immediately, video feed springing to life above the right armrest. She's been injured, a plasma burn to the right side of her face. There are slugs where skin once was, black things covered in grey ooze, intertwined with each other where muscle and fat should be. Tattered skin at the edges of the wound bulges and writhes unnaturally as the worms dance beneath it. There are a pair of nurses behind her, applying anaesthetic and monitoring her wound.
"You look like shit," says Ravana.
"You don't really have room to talk," she says. She turns to the nurses and waves dismissively at them. "Baljeet, Rohit, please leave. I need to talk business." The nurses bow slightly and leave the screen, there's the whirr of a door off-screen and the room grows a little darker.
"What happened?" asks Ravana, "That thing-"
"Some trigger-happy idiot opened fire on me. Nothing serious," she says, "The girl you mentioned helped me out." She glances at something below the screen or a moment, another readout, perhaps. "I'm seeing some conflicting information on what happened in the jungle, though I did notice that none of those mechs got into the city. Can you brief me on what happened there?"
"Found mechs, fought mechs. Most of the pilots managed to eject, but…" Ravana struggles for words for a moment, and then shrugs. It's a defeated gesture, "It was messy. I-"
"-nevermind. So, about the girl I told you about," says Ravana, "If you could point me to her, that'd be sweet."
There's a pause as she mulls over her options. "I'm at Edhi-Sahib. The staff will direct you to me," she says, "We should talk about this in person."
Ravana brings up the route to the clinic. "I'm close by, I'll be there soon," he says.
Draupadi nods, moves to close the channel, then stops for a moment. "That was excellent work out there," she says, "It's nice to see that you're finally growing up. Your brother would be proud."
The comm feed closes, and Ravana is left speechless for a moment before setting off for the clinic.
It's a short trip, a mere five minutes at full speed. The Edhi-Sahib Charity Clinic is Mewat's largest free medical clinic and a feature of Ravana's childhood. He, and his brother, had come here often when they were children. The clinic was free, ethical, and treated Dalit, which made it the best of all possible worlds for the pair. Once racing started paying for Ravana's (embarrassingly frequent) medical bills he had stopped going, but it was still an institution of his childhood and young adulthood.
He enters the front door and is immediately greeted by a pair of orderlies, an orangutan with prominent cheek flanges who's about Ravana's height and some sort of alien he doesn't recognize. She looks vaguely like a three-armed bipedal fungus. The orangutan says, "Draupadi's taking visitors now. Please sire, follow us."
The pair lead him through the halls of the clinic. It's busy, nearing capacity with the innocent victims of the battle. Wounded civilians, men and women and children with plasma burns and lacerations and other wounds besides are scattered throughout the clinic. He can smell death and medical supplies, the wounded and dying, desperate medical professionals and distraught family members and people overjoyed to realize that they're going to survive the day.
They eventually take a left and are faced with a Quarantine Zone airlock. The fungus-woman stands to one side, operating the panel to let them into the airlock. The Orangutan leads him in, walks him through the detox procedure, and then holds open the door to exit the airlock.
"She's in operating room Nineteen F. Straight down the hall, door's on your left," says the simian orderly.
Ravana nods, flashes the orderly a smile and a thumbs up (He receives a grimace in response), and heads down the hallway. It's near-empty, unlike the others. Only dire cases, ones with some reason to be isolated from the public physically, spiritually, or mentally are kept here. Excellent for privacy, but it raises questions. Like how Draupadi got the staff to give her an operating room for the meeting on such short notice.
He turns, opens the door, and openly gapes.
Draupadi sits on a hover chair in the center of a room. Her wound is covered in transparent synth-skin, slowly healing over, and she's dressed in a formal green saree as if prepared for a business meeting. The walls are covered in monitors and digital displays, a pair of large, tech-laden desks are folded against the walls, and he can see video feeds, data displays, and status reports from across the district, the sector, that have been routed into this room. On one screen, Lodi Khan forces capture ejected Chola pilots. On another, data regarding Ahmed Pasha's holdings scrolls across the scene, on others charity projects, disaster relief efforts, and the names of political prisoners who made it into the district are displayed. Two doors, to rooms and halls that don't exist on any legal schematics, are on the far wall. The room isn't an operating room, or an office, but a command center. And it's been there a while.
"You built an office inside of the clinic?" asks Ravana.
"I built a headquarters inside of the clinic," responds Draupadi.
Ravana wracks his brain, on the verge of saying something pithy, and receives a glance from Draupadi that reminds him not to say anything that will ruin her temporarily elevated opinion of him and reconsiders. "So, about the girl," he says.
"You're looking for Mohini."
Ravana racks his brain for a moment, the name rings a bell but he can't quite remember where he heard it before. After a few moments he pumps a hand triumphantly into the air and asks, "Indrajit's charity case?"
"Longtime ally of myself and your brother, one of the three founders of our movement, and she has effectively run a parallel resistance organization to the Nine Lords of Vant for years," says Draupadi in a voice that's no longer quite as approving. "But yes, by all means, remember her as the woman Indrajit met in an alleyway."
"Eh," shrugs Ravana by way of apology. "Anything else I should know before I track her down?"
"First, I'm coming with you," says Draupadi. Then she turns grim and mulls over her words, silently coming to a decision. "Second, if I'm to be perfectly honest," she says eventually, "I am far more comfortable with you being exalted than I am with her. Especially after today."
"I am, in what I'm pretty sure are your words though I was pretty drunk at the time, an irresponsible adrenaline junkie with multiple drug addictions, no sense of personal responsibility, and basically no self control," replies Ravana, reasonably.
"And that remains entirely accurate," says Draupadi, "But Mohini is an intelligent, fanatical, and well-organized violent terrorist."
"Oh," said Ravana, "Shit." There's a lull in the conversation before he grimaces and continues, "I need to do this anyway."
Draupadi nods. "You have a ride?" she asks.
"Of course!" replies Ravana, brightening up immediately. He points at one of the display screens, where the Akbar stands proudly. A monument to violence and civic pride amidst an honestly rather normal parking lot.
Draupadi stares at the eighteen meter tall warmech, then Looks at Ravana. It's a Look that earns the capital letter.
Ten minutes later, an automated medical supply truck rolls out of the clinic with Draupadi and a subdued Ravana hidden in the cargo bay.
There's a brief silence, which Ravana breaks.
[ ] "What's the Movement like, these days?"
[ ] "Indrajit would've hated that I killed those pilots."
[ ] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
[ ] "What can you tell me about the Yozi?" (.7x. Surpanakha does not approve)
[ ] "Why did Ilana accuse me of killing Blando?"
[ ] Write-In
Ravana calls Draupadi. Finding the Scourge is important. Getting his car back and clearing things up with Ilana? Less so.
She picks up almost immediately, video feed springing to life above the right armrest. She's been injured, a plasma burn to the right side of her face. There are slugs where skin once was, black things covered in grey ooze, intertwined with each other where muscle and fat should be. Tattered skin at the edges of the wound bulges and writhes unnaturally as the worms dance beneath it. There are a pair of nurses behind her, applying anaesthetic and monitoring her wound.
"You look like shit," says Ravana.
"You don't really have room to talk," she says. She turns to the nurses and waves dismissively at them. "Baljeet, Rohit, please leave. I need to talk business." The nurses bow slightly and leave the screen, there's the whirr of a door off-screen and the room grows a little darker.
"What happened?" asks Ravana, "That thing-"
"Some trigger-happy idiot opened fire on me. Nothing serious," she says, "The girl you mentioned helped me out." She glances at something below the screen or a moment, another readout, perhaps. "I'm seeing some conflicting information on what happened in the jungle, though I did notice that none of those mechs got into the city. Can you brief me on what happened there?"
"Found mechs, fought mechs. Most of the pilots managed to eject, but…" Ravana struggles for words for a moment, and then shrugs. It's a defeated gesture, "It was messy. I-"
"The scourge, boy."
"-nevermind. So, about the girl I told you about," says Ravana, "If you could point me to her, that'd be sweet."
There's a pause as she mulls over her options. "I'm at Edhi-Sahib. The staff will direct you to me," she says, "We should talk about this in person."
Ravana brings up the route to the clinic. "I'm close by, I'll be there soon," he says.
Draupadi nods, moves to close the channel, then stops for a moment. "That was excellent work out there," she says, "It's nice to see that you're finally growing up. Your brother would be proud."
The comm feed closes, and Ravana is left speechless for a moment before setting off for the clinic.
It's a short trip, a mere five minutes at full speed. The Edhi-Sahib Charity Clinic is Mewat's largest free medical clinic and a feature of Ravana's childhood. He, and his brother, had come here often when they were children. The clinic was free, ethical, and treated Dalit, which made it the best of all possible worlds for the pair. Once racing started paying for Ravana's (embarrassingly frequent) medical bills he had stopped going, but it was still an institution of his childhood and young adulthood.
He enters the front door and is immediately greeted by a pair of orderlies, an orangutan with prominent cheek flanges who's about Ravana's height and some sort of alien he doesn't recognize. She looks vaguely like a three-armed bipedal fungus. The orangutan says, "Draupadi's taking visitors now. Please sire, follow us."
The pair lead him through the halls of the clinic. It's busy, nearing capacity with the innocent victims of the battle. Wounded civilians, men and women and children with plasma burns and lacerations and other wounds besides are scattered throughout the clinic. He can smell death and medical supplies, the wounded and dying, desperate medical professionals and distraught family members and people overjoyed to realize that they're going to survive the day.
They eventually take a left and are faced with a Quarantine Zone airlock. The fungus-woman stands to one side, operating the panel to let them into the airlock. The Orangutan leads him in, walks him through the detox procedure, and then holds open the door to exit the airlock.
"She's in operating room Nineteen F. Straight down the hall, door's on your left," says the simian orderly.
Ravana nods, flashes the orderly a smile and a thumbs up (He receives a grimace in response), and heads down the hallway. It's near-empty, unlike the others. Only dire cases, ones with some reason to be isolated from the public physically, spiritually, or mentally are kept here. Excellent for privacy, but it raises questions. Like how Draupadi got the staff to give her an operating room for the meeting on such short notice.
He turns, opens the door, and openly gapes.
Draupadi sits on a hover chair in the center of a room. Her wound is covered in transparent synth-skin, slowly healing over, and she's dressed in a formal green saree as if prepared for a business meeting. The walls are covered in monitors and digital displays, a pair of large, tech-laden desks are folded against the walls, and he can see video feeds, data displays, and status reports from across the district, the sector, that have been routed into this room. On one screen, Lodi Khan forces capture ejected Chola pilots. On another, data regarding Ahmed Pasha's holdings scrolls across the scene, on others charity projects, disaster relief efforts, and the names of political prisoners who made it into the district are displayed. Two doors, to rooms and halls that don't exist on any legal schematics, are on the far wall. The room isn't an operating room, or an office, but a command center. And it's been there a while.
"You built an office inside of the clinic?" asks Ravana.
"I built a headquarters inside of the clinic," responds Draupadi.
Ravana wracks his brain, on the verge of saying something pithy, and receives a glance from Draupadi that reminds him not to say anything that will ruin her temporarily elevated opinion of him and reconsiders. "So, about the girl," he says.
"You're looking for Mohini."
Ravana racks his brain for a moment, the name rings a bell but he can't quite remember where he heard it before. After a few moments he pumps a hand triumphantly into the air and asks, "Indrajit's charity case?"
"Longtime ally of myself and your brother, one of the three founders of our movement, and she has effectively run a parallel resistance organization to the Nine Lords of Vant for years," says Draupadi in a voice that's no longer quite as approving. "But yes, by all means, remember her as the woman Indrajit met in an alleyway."
"Eh," shrugs Ravana by way of apology. "Anything else I should know before I track her down?"
"First, I'm coming with you," says Draupadi. Then she turns grim and mulls over her words, silently coming to a decision. "Second, if I'm to be perfectly honest," she says eventually, "I am far more comfortable with you being exalted than I am with her. Especially after today."
"I am, in what I'm pretty sure are your words though I was pretty drunk at the time, an irresponsible adrenaline junkie with multiple drug addictions, no sense of personal responsibility, and basically no self control," replies Ravana, reasonably.
"And that remains entirely accurate," says Draupadi, "But Mohini is an intelligent, fanatical, and well-organized violent terrorist."
"Oh," said Ravana, "Shit." There's a lull in the conversation before he grimaces and continues, "I need to do this anyway."
Draupadi nods. "You have a ride?" she asks.
"Of course!" replies Ravana, brightening up immediately. He points at one of the display screens, where the Akbar stands proudly. A monument to violence and civic pride amidst an honestly rather normal parking lot.
Draupadi stares at the eighteen meter tall warmech, then Looks at Ravana. It's a Look that earns the capital letter.
Ten minutes later, an automated medical supply truck rolls out of the clinic with Draupadi and a subdued Ravana hidden in the cargo bay.
There's a brief silence, which Ravana breaks.
[ ] "What's the Movement like, these days?"
[ ] "Indrajit would've hated that I killed those pilots."
[ ] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
[ ] "What can you tell me about the Yozi?" (.7x. Surpanakha does not approve)
[ ] "Why did Ilana accuse me of killing Blando?"
[ ] Write-In
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Merry Christmas fucknuggets.
[X] "Why did Ilana accuse me of killing Blando?"
"Yeah, so." Ravana scratches his shaggy head. "Ilana said something pretty strange. I dunno why, but she seems to have got it into her head that I killed... thingie. What's his name? Her squeeze, the bland douchebag. Yeah, well, whatever. I didn't, though. Why's she bitching at me, rather than that asshole Rax?"
"Yeah, so." Ravana scratches his shaggy head. "Ilana said something pretty strange. I dunno why, but she seems to have got it into her head that I killed... thingie. What's his name? Her squeeze, the bland douchebag. Yeah, well, whatever. I didn't, though. Why's she bitching at me, rather than that asshole Rax?"
[X] "Indrajit would've hated that I killed those pilots."
I would like to see Ravana have an emotional conversation about his brother and this seems like a good start. What type of man was Indrajit? He seems like a man of high ideals and someone who would oppose the use of violence but one of his closest companions is described as being a "violent terrorist" by another compatriot.
I would like to see Ravana have an emotional conversation about his brother and this seems like a good start. What type of man was Indrajit? He seems like a man of high ideals and someone who would oppose the use of violence but one of his closest companions is described as being a "violent terrorist" by another compatriot.
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Ridiculously Average Guy
I'm you, but stronger
- Location
-
[X] "Why did Ilana accuse me of killing Blando?"
Let's just repress the killing until it flares up when we see our brother.
Let's just repress the killing until it flares up when we see our brother.
Aleph
Princess of Stabbity
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
In fairness, that might be because she just dropped an orbital station onto an inhabited city.
There's really no other way to describe that kind of behaviour.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"Fucking sweet"?
Aleph
Princess of Stabbity
- Location
- The sixth circle of Hell (second on weekends)
- Pronouns
- She/Her
She wasn't surfing it down, so, no.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
"You forgot 'speed junkie', too."
[X] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
He's not about to run off after them right now, but they're still important to him, so he'll ask... and then keep going towards the current goal with Draupadi, because he knows that's what's important right now. But he'll still want to know.
Sirrocco
Pedantic
It occurs to me... a number of votes in this quest have been stealth votes - there was the thing we thought we were voting on, and it wasn't the thing we were *actually* voting on. It occurs to me that this might well be the same. This is perfectly placed for a scene change after all, and each fo these votes is a viable topic (or more than one) that we could reasonably change scene to.
[X] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
Just curious, really.
[X] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
Just curious, really.
azoicennead
Overly-Affectionate Zombie Squad
- Pronouns
- He/They
[X] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
"Ooops." can describe it pretty well, at least in some circumstances. PCs are totally the type to do stuff like it on accident.
greensun
You shall all burn beneath my light!!!
"Hey its not my fault that my perfect and environmental defense charms need my to be moving under my own power, and a space station I send falling onto a city doesn't count!"
---
[ ] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
He'll wanna know what happened to his friends first. Ravana's a softy at heart.
[X] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
[X] "What happened to Harmeet and Chandra?"
