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2016-10-09 Parley

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Parley
Date 2016/10/09
Location Verander
Participants Frisk, Gearshift, Gyro, Steeljaw, Lockjaw, Windrose
NPCs Halyard, Plundercrash, Whiskerwire
Plot Colony: Verander
Scene GM Mox
Summary Time to have a chat with the pirates. It barely doesn't turn into a disaster
Commentary

Shortly before the Lost Light arrived at the Verander system, collectors from the "towns" orbiting the planet and from various pirate factions battled aboard their hoverships sailing above the deadly, constantly transforming surface. Many ships and their crews were lost to the turmoil. However, readings from the planet indicate that a large new crop of sparks is about to be offered up, and many Verandrians believe they could have belonged to those who were lost. Even if not, both the townsfolk and the pirates lay claim to them. Hailbrace, governor general of High Town, has asked for help negotiating with the pirates to avoid any further violence.

While the Lost Light remains berthed at High Town, shuttles have been dispatched to rendezvous with one of the foremost pirate captains. His ship sails through the protoplanetary disk that is the Verander system, and though it is nowhere near as large as the Lost Light, it impresses nonetheless. Its lower hull is rounded and smooth, and transparent canopies shelter and seal several decks above. Tall masts support solar sails, imprinted with the insignia of the captain's fleet.

A few smaller craft of similar construction travel nearby as escort. Gun emplacements along the sides of all of them appear idle for now. Docking tubes extend from the flagship, waiting to receive the shuttles.

Windrose has had her face practically plastered to a viewport the entire way down. Marvelling first at the space itself, and then at the planet, and now at the elaborate ships. "Oh my goodness, this is -marvelous-." And they're not even to the actual ship yet. "What an astounding divergent developement to deal with the peculiarly dangerous environment of the planet's unstability." Someone is already nerding out.

Having heard their hosts' plight, Lockjaw could hardly not go on one of the shuttles. She's not exactly the best diplomat the Lost Light has, but if things turn sour, she'd be a fairly valuable asset. Even if it doesn't get that far, her looming form litterally armed to the teeth, might serve to be rather puersuasive.

Ther mission, however, does not keep Lockjaw from taking in the sights. She might miss her home, but coming aboard the Lost Light, and even moreso, leaving it periodicall, has allowed her to see so many new things. Like Windrose, she's peering out the nearest window "It's certianly nothing like Eukaris" she agrees.

Frisk had been the one to meet Whiskerwire, the horrible pirate spy, and as such has graciously offered his presence on this little mission... The fact he is eager to see what these pirates are like surely has nothing to the potential reasons he might be coming. This time, he is going to be near the front of the little pack, keeping an eye out for whoever it is he should name drop to. He really hopes Whiskers is around.. and that they come across the right crew... Not letting himself doubt, Frisk is just as plastered to the w

Steeljaw stares out the viewport, paws gripping the edge of it as he looks at the ship they are approaching. He felt he might be of use here, if nothing more than an extra set of eyes and ears....and nose. He had his sensors recalibrated recently to make sure they were in peak condition and he was quite eager to get away from the ship for awhile. Besides, he was used to being within the guts of ships, their airways and much more, he knew how they were usually laid out and was quite good at picking out hiding spots or things that didn't 'belong'.

Whatever reason the others are coming on this mission for, it cannot be any worse than why Gyro is here. The mortician is hoping to find an opportunity to slip away to procure a body for Whirl, or at least scope out likely sources for when he returns later. If he is being honest, though, there is also a bit of curiousity. The lives of non-Cybertonians had always fascinated him, and he could feel a kinship with those who had had their homes ravaged by the arrival of Cybertronians. If nothing else, the silent medic wants a chance to observe a differnt culture. It gives him hope that there is still good in the ravaged world.

While the others paste themselves to the viewport, the medic strides towards the door that will open to one of the docking tubes. His pede taps with impatience as he waits. He is eager to go on.

The shuttles dock at their appointed locations. When their hatches upon, a notable mix of odors, then sounds, emanate from them. This is a grimy, cantakerous ship, nothing like the orderliness and cleanliness of the High Town port.

It's a short walk down the tubes to the main deck. Crew members rush and shuffle in different directions, all as busy as they can be, or at least looking like they are. They cast glances at the diplomats but barely pause in their duties. A small group, however, waits near the tunnel outlets. They fidget and shift, and possibly growl a little, but none look angry. Just either impatient or, well, happy.

One mech, clearly the leader, comes forward in a stiffened gait. He is rotund but appears quite strong, and his armor is a mix of functional and garish. A tall crest runs from side to side atop his head, notched at the top, and his crooked smile peeks out from a long plated beard. He halts, arms akimbo.

"Welcome aboard the Amalgamous, ye strangers from the deep black. I be Plundercrash, captain of this vessel and all who serve upon it. I understand ye have come ta parley."

<FS3> Lockjaw rolls Protective: Great Success. (7 4 7 2 8 1 1 2 3 6 7)

Lockjaw climbs out of the shuttle near the front of the group. She's not afraid to do a little pushing to do it either. Better a friendly shove than an unfriendly stab, yes? Her sword remains slung behind her shoulder, but she remains wary. You gotta be when it comes to thieves, that she learned the hard way.

Despite that, she's rather eager to get a look at things herself. This might be a thieve's den, or thieves ship, whatever, but it's still something new and interesting. As is the mech that comes out to greet them "He talks weird" the gatorbot observes, loud enough for atleast her companions to hear, and possibly the locals. What, he does!

Frisk already likes this place better than High town. Where High Town made him somewhat uncomfortable for the most part, with its uptight mannerisms, this place is glorious chaos! Activity and potential pockets to be emptied as far as the visor can see. He is quick to run to the front- probably under a couple mech's legs. With a mouthless grin Frisk gives a salute to the captain, "Nice to meet you! Names Frisk.. there.. wouldn't happen to be a Whiskerwire anywhere on this ship, would there?" Time to see if the name drop works!

Okay so Lockjaw is not actually a Dinobot, but with how big she is that's the easiest way to file it away in her mind. That and it takes her a few moments to mentally translate what she thinks Plundercrash just said. Is he talking about them coming to talk? Hopefully. Parley can have more than a few meetings. "We have, yes." Probably best to just roll with it. The pink femme makes a short bow to the Captain. "My name is Windrose, I am one of our ship's navigators and cartographers, as well as researcher of planetary things." These guys cruise around above their planet on fancy space-sailing ships, guess someone thought maybe she'd strike a similar cord as a reason to send her along.

Gyro strides onto the ship with a curious tilt of his helm. It is a little louder than he is used to, but the mortician is not fleeing to hide to somewhere more secluded and quiet like he might normally do. No, there is too much of curiousity. Maybe he will even find a mecha or two to speak hand with. In the meantime, he will be his usual mannerless self. While everyone else is busy making their introductions verbally, Gyro strides straight up to the captain and walks a circle around him once, twice. Then he nods his helm in satisfaction. That's how he is going to say hi.

<FS3> Steeljaw rolls Stealth: Good Success. (1 1 8 8 6 3 7 1 6 4 1 5)

As everyone works to move closer to the captain who introduced himself, Steelie slides in among the others, keeping low(er) and doing his best to go unnoticed. He doesn't introduce himself or make himself noticable. His head is on a swivil though and he begins collecting data on the ship and the crew that seem to be scurrying about, as if trying to look busy.

Plundercrash watches and listens to the diplomats, and it's hard to tell if is confused or normally looks that way. He does return Windrose's bow, as she appears to be the only one whose head is fully screwed on. "A cartographer and navigator, ye say? They be skills most prized among us, lass. Perhaps after the ... negotiations ye may wish to have a turn at the ship's wheel."

The captain watches Gyro circle him while he responds to Frisk. "Whiskerwire, ye say? Aye, Whiskers be here, and I'll be glad to settle his mind. WHISKERS YE BILGERAT!" What, that's what he is.

"Whiskers scurries up in his rat form and converts to root mode. "Aye Cap'n!" He looks at the Lost Lighters and spots Frisk. "Mate! Oi mate, ye came and took me up on me offa! As I said, a true gem ye are! Cap'n, ya see, just as I said!" He wiggles a pointing finger at the fur walker.

"Aye, Whiskers, as ye said," the Captain sighs. "QUARTERMASTER! Upgrade this scallywag fer his service!" Whiskers hops in place and dashes off.

The rest of the welcoming committee, distracted by Gyro and the others, do not notice Steeljaw's lurking.

Windrose has to try very very VERY hard not to squee at the offer and remain professional. They're here to familiarize themselves with the locals, she reminds herself, and negotiate. Showing too much interest in a divergent activity could be used against them. But it's hard to hide the bit of sparkle in her optics. "I would be interested in seeing the methods you use for doing such if time allows for it, Captain."

Then tilts her head a little to the side at the other going-ons. "Upgrade?"

While everyone else is wasting breath, Gyro begins making his way towards the crowd of pirates. He has a fair feeling the captain isn't going to bother speaking hand while in the middle of negotiating and so he hopes to find more promising prospects. He tilts his helm in the direction of this Whiskers mecha for a moment, noting some comment about 'upgrading for services' as he goes, and files it away. Perhaps the contact he'll need to get what he's looking for, sounds sketchy enough to know where to buy a body anyways.

While he waits for them to return, he begins to circle others in the crowd like a shark considering its next meal. Upon occasion he thrusts a hand in the direction of a mecha curiously, waiting to see if a single one of them recognizes the sign for speaking hand. Likely not, considering how long this colony has been seperated from Cybertronians, but it never hurt.

Steeljaw continues to keep somewhat out of sight and in the shadow of others. He uses his olfactory sensors to try and sort out the miasma of scents on board this ship. His eyes check over every nook and cranny as he moves or pauses to keep in step with others. When the rat appears, his ears perk forward and he hunches down slightly, his hips shifting a little as if he's so tempted to pounce, though he restrains himself.

<FS3> Frisk rolls Stealth: Good Success. (5 6 5 6 4 3 4 8 2 3 7 1)

Lockjaw is perfectly fine with Windrose doing most of the talking. She'll just be over here, keeping an eye on things, and Frisk. So this is his new friend, huh? Doesn't look like much. What is this about an upgrade? Also, what's that guy doing? The one from their group, who hasn't said a word so far?

Frisk is about to greet Whiskers as he show up, but before he can even begin to speak the rat runs off in a flash. Hm. Rude. Noticing Gyro wandering off, Frisk decides to snoop around the area as well. He .. doesn't actually care what the more diplomatic mechs are up to, but that creepy stilt guy looks like he is doing something interesting! Slipping away, Frisk silently follows behind the mortician. If Frisk so happens to prey off the distraction Gyro provides well.. what happens, happens.

<FS3> Steeljaw rolls Olfaction: Success. (4 6 6 2 3 3 2 3 8)

The captain watches perplexed as one of the visitors wanders off while another disappears. He forces his attention back to Windrose and her silent comrade. "Yes, the methods ... ah, upgrade! Yes, fer providing us with fair warning of yer arrival, so as to be more hospitable as needs arise. Which they have. So let us not tarry any longer. Ye've come to negotiate over the sparks." He waves a hand, and some of his group disperse, to ensure the wandering visitors are ... comfortable.

Most of the deckhands either ignore Gyro or mutter at him as he passes. One, however, thinner than most of the others, pauses his work on the cabling and approaches the mortician. His hand reaches out as his optics look upon Gyro with curiosity.

Whiskers has disappeared behind a door, but his voice can be heard through a porthole. "Aye, that'll do nicely, sir. Please be quick about it, as I'd like to show it off ta me mate afore he departs."

Steeljaw should catch a faint, strange odor from the opposite side of the deck. It's reminiscent of a lubricant.

Having been on the ship for a few minutes now and observed the crew, the Lost Lighters should notice that each pirate, no exception, has a beard. Even the femmes. Some are smaller and some are larger. Plundercrash's, of course, is the largest.

That is the ticket! When Gyro spots the hand reaching back towards him, the mortician snags it with a little too much eagerness. While he might usually be the picture of antisocial jerk the medic shows a rarer side of himself today. He is literally quivering with the excitement of possibility. These colony worlds always hid so many unique things that stole his breath away, a reminder that the war had not ruined everything. The mortician's hands begin to move with a deftness and speed that only a fluent chirolinguist could understand, words tumbling over words in a rush. He has to catch himself.

Once he calms down, he signs something much more simple. 'Speak?' Oh, a reward for doing well. Or payment. Both? They're pirates, hard to tell where the line would be drawn. Windrose nods her head a bit all the same. "Yes, about the sparks." She can appreciate the Captain staying the point more or less. "That is the current hot topic in matters isn't it? We seem to have arrived at the time of a rather phenominal event for your world."

<FS3> Frisk rolls Kleptomaniac: Good Success. (1 4 4 7 1 8 3 3 2)

Frisk looks up as he hears Whiskers voice. Evidently the mech hasn't planned to leave for long. Well, less rude then! For now he goes about searching for good targets, his instincts compelling him to swipe something- anything really. Shanix and potentially valuable things are by far more appealing, though. This is a pirate ship! There must be something good somewhere!

As the pirate captain seems to be cordial enough for no, Lockjaw focuses most of her attention on keeping track of her more wanderlust prone crewmates. Atleast the ones she can see. She remains near Windrose, towering behind the smaller femme, arms crossed over her chest, but her optics narrow slightly as Gyro makes a grab for one of the pirates. Well, maybe this might turn into a fight after all. In any case, she's ready for it.

The thin deckhand's face contorts as Gyro blabbers across his palm. He narrows his optics and shakes his head, signaling that he ... doesn't understand? It's too fast? He just wanted to shake hands? Finally, though, in response to "Speak", he signs back the same, in an unusual but recognizable variation. It's as if the word were spoken in an old dialect.

Clinks and clanks sound from the quartermaster's cabin.

"Aye, lass, these are things I already know. I also know, from prior harvests of this kind, that the townies aim to capture every last one o' them sparks for they own. And yet here ye are, and so I expect they be offerin' some recompense for us to stay away, this time, is that it?" There's an edge of impatience to Plundercrash's voice, and his mates nearby nod in support.

Frisk will find that the pockets and small storage compartments of the pirates contain mostly small hunks of minerals, glossy and shiny, perhaps used as a form of currency. He also may discover a well-worn set of lockpicks from a deckhand currently occupied with sharpening some blades.

<FS3> Frisk rolls Thievery: Good Success. (6 1 6 3 3 2 5 8 4 4 5 7 2) <FS3> Gyro rolls Chirolinguistics: Good Success. (8 8 5 6 5 2 4 7 1 2)

"They told us that you intended to take all of them for yourself" Lockjaw rumbles "And that you weren't above putting the sparks at risk to do it" there's definitely an unpleasant note in her voice. Hailbrace seems to have her convinced. Perhaps that is why she's fine with being distracted from watching for Frisk. Or maybe she really did just get distracted.

The still-functioning side of Gyro's face twitches into a grin at this revelation, even if his expression is hidden behind his visor. The mortician spent long enough among NAILs to recognize a more esoteric form of hand (as many had been fairly old mecha themselves). Of course he could already sense a few regional differences, an accent in the twitch of a thumb or the length of time pressure was applied to the heel of the hand, but the thing that mattered is that it is understandable.

'Apologies,' he signs, nodding his helm in mimicry of his earlier circling. It's true, Gyro is actually capable of apologizing. 'Easiest way to make myself understood. Designation, Gyro.' Windrose tilts her head a little to the side again, taking in the captain's response. Oh how did she end up being the one doing most of the talking? She's a navigator, not a negotiator!... On the other hand, she seems to be most sensible one here, that's not wandering off on their own little curiosities. Sigh. Sometimes being the sane one is such bother!

But she keeps the little mental conversation to herself and merely nods a bit. "I would be amiss to not admit that we are here for our own curiosity as well... And that." She pauses a moment when Lockjaw actually speaks up. And.. a few things start to click together. "Wait, so both groups exect the other to just jump in and grab everything for themselves...?"

Finally she can't resist slapping a palm to her faceplace. "Of for the love of...."

<FS3> Gearshift rolls Diplomacy: Great Success. (8 8 8 6 6 7 8 1 2 4)

Gearshift realizes this as well and internally groans. "By Primus" She mutters to herself, before speaking up herself. "If both groups assume the other is going to behave this way, surely there can be a more civil agreement reached?" She offers, "Perhaps an even division of the sparks? Or if there's an alternate compensation you'd prefer?" The femme would love to hear what the captain might have to suggest.

Frisk expertly ... relieves a few of the pirates of their possessions. A fast examination of the bits and pieces of mineral shows that they can only be qualified as a currency or something, they are far to shiny and common to be anything else. The lockpicks however have him brightening. Usually he just has to use his claws or, regrettably, a carefully twisted and manipulated feather painfully yanked from his own hide. Lock picks are a rare commodity for Frisk. Stowing the objects away, Frisk moves out of his casual sneak to begin wandering near the porthole he could hear Whiskers from. He wants to try and see what is going on in there.

Plundercrash feigns offense at Lockjaw's outburst. "We would never hurt the babes, my toothsome lass. Would never cross our minds. Ah, but 'tis true, we would have 'em all, heh heh." He grins wide, particularly at Windrose and Gearshift. Oh, the townsfolk aren't wrong about that. "Better to be free upon the warby as a pirate than beholden to a town, laborin' away the years!" He listens to Gearshift with possible seriousness. "A civil agreement with alternate compensation? These are complex words for a simple pirate such as meself, lass. What do you propose?"

The tall pirate nods slowly in comprehension, signing back: 'No worsies mat. Designation: Halyard. Whence ye hail?' The meaning is mostly clear in his strange style of chiro.

"A beauty!" Whiskers can be heard from the porthole. There are a few thumps and then he bursts out of the door, looking this way and that. He is stroking his new beard, longer and thicker than the one he had just worn.

Lockjaw does not look convinced. Nor does she seem to be inclined to be particularly tactful "Honorable work is always better than petty theft" she growls, baring her teeth as she leans down a bit towards Plundercrash.

There is a dramatic pause when Halyard asks Gyro where he hails from. Finally, when he does answer it is hasty and quickly pushed aside. 'I have no home,' he signs. 'Though I travel with the Lost Light.'

The mortician tilts his helm back towards the captain and where the negotiations are occurring. Now that he's found someone to speak with he lends an ear to them. Everything seems to be calm enough so far. Maybe they will come away with this with no one harmed or deceased. A shame, really.

If it wouldn't be totally disruptive to the situation Windrose would quite possibly hug Gearshift for stepping in with some actual negotiation tact. Not that she's still not a bit on edge now, but it's a bit less so. "Yes, of course." Pause. "Or is there a reason that you've not been able to make an agreement over this sort of thing? It seems like something this important would be better shared than fought over." Her rotor twitchs a little on her back, as it has a habit of doing when she's getting nervous. Negotiation was not at all easy, and it was making her twitchy in general.

The fact that Lockjaw is leering, snarling and looking about ready to eat the first pirate that looks at her wrong doesn't help.

<FS3> Frisk rolls Stealth: Good Success. (2 3 8 8 6 1 4 3 1 4 4 2)

Frisk tries to hold back the bubble of laughter he feels rising when Whiskers comes into view. Did.. upgrade mean a beard upgrade? Evidently. Pseudo-grinning, Frisk sneaks up behind the mech searching around. Come on, have to keep this trend of surprising him going! "Lookin' good there, my mech!" He has no idea what the big deal is with beards around here.

Lockjaw's show of aggression does not go unnoticed by Plundercrash's associates. Many take a step forward, and the beards of some drop off and convert into small weapons: a pistol here, a cudgel there. Their captain, however, stretches out his arms. "At ease, boyos. This is parley, and it can get a mite testy." He levels his gaze on Windrose. "Sharing be a skill we pirates lack mostwise. At least with the townies. If they would be more generous, then perhaps we'd larn."


Halyard smiles. 'Then yore ship be yore hame. As tis with I. Ship and the *disorder*.' The last word is quite strangely traced, hinting at a chaos that spins. The thin cabler looks up through the transparent roof at the stars.

Once again, Whiskers flips into rat mode with a yelp. He recovers more quickly this time, converting back and spinning around. "Mate! I've been promoted! Look 'ere at this fine specimen." He juts out his chin, nodding and giving his new beard a proud stroke. "I'm in debt ta ya, mate."

<FS3> Gearshift rolls Diplomacy: Failure. (4 3 5 5 1 4 1 3 2 4)

Gearshift corrects herself "What I mean to say is, you can either split the sparks evenly, or you can take less sparks, but get something else from whomever we'd have to speak to." Gearshift wrings her servos. She's a bit out of practice from her school days, but she's hoping if she can at least get through to the Captain, it'll be easier to figure out terms of agreement later.

Lockjaw doesn't miss the pirates' waryness either, her hand moving up to the hilt of her sword in response to their weapons. Only the fact that the captain is apperantly trying to keep the pece keeps her from drawing it. Her voice does not get any friendlier "And by 'generous' you mean letting you lot take whatever you like?"

Maybe Gyro jumped the gun thinking that no one would come away from this injured. The mortician's armor flares as he senses the change in atmosphere, glancing towards his unlikely companion for a reaction. They just said their loyalty is to the ship, and if things go awry he is an easy target. With reluctance, the mortician begins to untwine his digits and pull away if the roper will let him. He is not exactly keen on being a sitting duck. Windrose puts two digits to the bridge of her nasal strut for a moment. She can already see where some of this is going. The pirates claim the townsies don't share enough. Thus the pirate thing. The townsfolk don't think the pirates are worth 'sharing' with. Which incures more pirating. One big circle that apparently just keeps repeating itself.

.. And beards are their method of reward for good service? ..

"Why is it that every planet we go to has to have all these lines drawn between it's inhabitants?" Windrose throws her hands up as her composure starts faultering. "It's like being split and divided amongst ourselves is some deep routed Cybertronian need! Divisions, factions, tribes... speedsters and workers... towns and shipmechs! The only ones without some preconcieved split was the planet of microformer pairs!"

<FS3> Windrose rolls Stress Outburst: Failure. (3 5 3 2)

Frisk can't help but give the beard a small poke, unsure if it would be considered offensive to actually feel it... or.. would that be polite? Mechs in the past have petted his feathers without asking.... What the heck is he even supposed to do in this situation. "Nice! So when you get upgraded you get a bigger beard?" Ok yeah that doesn't make sense to him, "Ok ill be honest here, whats with the beards? I've never seen that slag before."

Plundercrash sneers at Lockjaw. "Ye be awfully judgmental fer a stranger new to our system, as well as a parleyer. A piece of advice: never insult one of the parties, especially when yer on their ship." Windrose's meltdown, meanwhile, elicits a laugh and a shake of his head. "Me dear lass, 'tis the way of the world, no escaping it. Until the disk stops to spin, and we're embraced by the cold of death."

Sensing he has the upper hand in this engagement, the captain takes in Gearshift's scattered suggestions with an indulgent air. "Aye, one of those, lass, or perhaps, since it was the townies' fault that my brothers and sisters engaged in battle 'pon Verander, I think an uneven split is in order. Suppose, oh, 70-30 in our favor."

Halyard looks confused as Gyro retreats. Was it something he said? He doesn't follow, but stays as he was, watching.

"Aye, mate, it's our sign of rank and privilege," Whiskers replies. "Seeing as we 'aven't the means of modernization, it's not a terrible alternative."

<FS3> Gearshift rolls Diplomacy: Great Success. (1 6 8 7 6 7 6 8 7 2)

"As easy as that sort of deal sounds, there's too many moving parts, Captain." Gearshift's body language shifts, it's a little more demure in the tilt of her pauldrons, and the way her helm cants, but her hips and legs remain planted solid. "I'm sure the 'townies' would gladly argue for some affront in the past that would justify the same sort of split for them, mm?" Her voice is calm and low, and her tone sweet without condescention. "If you both decide to split the sparks evenly...well that's the only truly, objective, unbaised, fair way. Without all the semantics involved." She pushes for that option now, seeing as the idea of the Pirates getting less sparks and more 'booty' fails to appeal to the captain.

When Halyard makes no attempt to try and come after him, Gyro relaxes minutely. At least he is not in immediate danger. However, he can still sense the tension simmering behind him. If things are going to blow up he would rather be far away from it. The mortician tilts his helm uncertainly to Halyard, and then gestures rapidly between himself and the crewmate. That done, he gestures emphatically towards a more secluded corner of the ship where it will be easier to converse.

Besides... after he's done putting feelers down, he has a proposition for this Halyard. He would like to know more about his home, namely the darker side of it. Maybe the pirate will be willing to give something of a tour? Certainly, most mecha do not get into this field for being entirely honest. "Then that's just the way things are meant to be" Lockjaw rumbles. To her, devision is a natural part of life. This comunal living on the Lost Light has actually been a bit confusing to her. Atleast they have tribes.

Turning back to Plundercrash, she narrows her optics "A thief is a thief no matter where it is."

Frisk gives another grin, "Cool. Some scale walkers collect trophies or fight for their spot in the tribe." Its then that the mech notices the growing hostilities. What is going on th- Oh come on Lockjaw! No doubt the clearly hostile femme is going on about her honorless thieves monologue. "One sec, Whiskers. I think my tribemate is trying to eat someone again." He runs over just in time to hear that last bit about thieves are thieves, "Seriously Lockjaw? You're starting this again??" A small sidestep has him facing the captain, "Sorry about her, she's never been the.. friendliest around." For Chela's sake he hopes she either turns on him or starts acting friendlier. At least she won't start a fight with the pirates then.

Windrose flusters for a few more moments, takes a few paces away from the negotiating to try and get herself settled again. Gearshift seems to have it under control for the most part. It's a good thing the Captain mostly laughed her little spat off... and hopefully the beasties didn't get too offended by her clumping tribes in there too. Even if it was fairly accurate.

It's like every colony has some reminder of why she went off on her own for so long instead of getting caught up in these... seperations. Hoi. Even now she keeps more to her work and such than getting too wrapped up in Autobots and Decepticons and what not, even with one of the latter as her roommate.

Just calm down.. in.. out.. in.. out.. the vents built into her shoulders flutter a bit with the additional puffing of air to help cool her back down.

The pirate captain looks upon Gearshift with surprise. Finally, some progress. "Aye, they would, though blame for the cause at hand remains with them. Yet 'twouldn't be a fair stretch from that back at us, ha ha!" He paces a few steps, considering. "A 50-50 split then, 'tween my pirates and the townies, but we get first dibs." He looks over in surprise at Lockjaw's continued insulting. "Ah, it seems our hospitality be not to yer liking, 'tis pity. I s'pose consorting with supposed 'thieves' be intolerable. Then, ye best take yerself off my ship at once, for your comfort and those who wish to parley in good faith. Or should we scuttle the whole effort?" Yes, Lockjaw, he's booting you off the ship. A pair of larger crewmates advance, to offer an honorary escort.

Halyard figures out Gyro's gesticulations, and finally nods. He takes a moment to tidy his cablework, and then moves toward the suggested corner. It's been a while since he's had a good conversation.


Whiskers is momentarily too taken with his new beard to be concerned, and waves as Frisk departs. After a moment, though, he shakes himself out of it and hurries over as well, staying behind his larger shipmates but peeking around here and there.

Lockjaw looks down at Frisk with one bright, yellow optic. It is not a welcoming look "Ofcourse you would defend them. A theif standing up for thieves." she spits before turning her attention back to their host, the bigger threat from the looks of it "I am not a member of your crew. You do not give me orders, and I will not abandon mine." she hisses, acompanied by a soft shhhiik of her sword being pulled out further as the brutes approach. She does not draw it entierly. If they get agressive, she will, but she does cock her head questioningly towards Windrose and Gearshift, whom she's aknowledged as the leads of this party.

"No scuttling!" And then Windrose is abruptly right back into things, even if she hasn't entirely calmed herself back down. Some things you just can't try to pretend aren't there. Good grief, Gearshift is actually getting somewhere, please don't someone stupidly ruin this. "Miss, please, let's not make this situation any more complicated than it already is." At least even flustered she can still try to be tactful about it? Mostly? Despite being a lot smaller than Lockjaw the lithe femme does edge inbetween her and the others. "Negotiating is a delicate matter, and causing an... incident is not going to reflect well on us or those we try to represent."

Why does she always end up having to do this? Then again, Windrose is the one that did tell off a Dinobot once.

Frisk's feathers rise in immediate and obvious anger as Lockjaw, once again, talks down to him. Pretty obvious this is not the first time he's been looked down on by her. He's trying to help here! He's got half a mind to let her get her aft handed to her but... He said he would try to help. Not to mention he can't in good conscience let a tribe member get hurt when he can prevent it. Frisk can tell, though, that she is looking to Gearshift and Windrose for indications of what to do. If they say to leave, as they are, she will follow. He turns back to look at the pirates, tone clearly holding back indignant anger over being insulted, and says, "I think we will be going now. I hope we see each other soon."

Plundercrash is quite at ease despite the tension; he seems to draw energy from it. He rounds smiling onto Lockjaw, and the two deck hands transform into predator modes, teeth and claws. "Aye, not a member of my crew, but on board my ship, where my orders be law. And I say to ye: Begone at once!"

The captain looks down at the apologetic Frisk, and tilts his head in a surprisingly genteel fashion. "As do I." His head then snaps toward the actual negotiators in the party and he tromps towards them. "Well, then, I've set a proposal, now what say ye? Are we in accord?"

Whiskers is out of his league here. Casting a sorry gaze upon Frisk, he backs away from the group, still absently stroking his recent award. <FS3> Gearshift rolls Diplomacy: Success. (2 5 5 2 2 3 6 8 1 4)

Gearshift is happy as a clam, plating flaring a bit in pride at her victory. A wide grin spreads on her face "We are in accord, Captain, though I have to warn you that though I will do my best to push this, I cannot promise the townies will be as amicable and affable as you've been." She holds out a servo "And your hospitality is beyond compare." Gearshift adds. "As the addage goes: Don't shoot the messenger" And what a messenger she's been.

Lockjaw simply ignores Frisk. Windrose, however, is another story. She watches the smaller femme, and then the even smaller one talking. A fight is the most simple way of solving things, but that is not the goal here, is it. She snorts, and her sword slides back down. Her hand does not come down from its hilt, however, and she turns towards the bouncers to flash them a toothy smirk. The temptation to shift down to her own beast mode to match their threat display with her own is great, but that would...complicate things, wouldn't it? Shame. Instead, she settles for a low, warning hiss from her root form's somewhat less intimidating mouth, and steps back, her gaze locked on those gathered. Fine, she will move, but you dare harm her crew, even Frisk, and she will be back in an instant.

Frisk tries to get past his own anger and look happy, fun loving as always see! So. so. Happy. and not wanting to stab that femme in her no good rotten- no thats against what you want Frisk. A simple wave is given in Whisker's direction, clearly not blaming him for trying to help. Frisk still isn't willing to confront most of the heavy hitters in the Scale Walkers, no way he would ever talk back to someone like Dinobot. He visibly replaces when Lockjaw steps back. Good the other two managed to talk her down. "Well since thats done, I'm heading back to the shuttle. I'll see you guys there." He is too irritated at the moment to attempt a cheery goodbye to the pirates.

The captain positively beams at Gearshift, taking up her hand. "The townies rarely are, miss. And I should add that most all of you are welcome back aboard again, as a further token of ... hospitality." His keen optics watch Lockjaw as she goes. He did say "most".

Gearshift is genial, her grin turning to more of her trademark warm smile "I'm certainly hoping we'll see more of each other then." She slowly, seemingly reluctantly, takes her servo back, keeping her gaze on the captain until the very last moment before turning to join the others in getting ready to depart.

After the negotiators disembark back to their shuttles, a crewmech emerges from a hidden closet on the far side of the deck, toting a well-lubricated, long-barreled rifle. The walking insurance policy walks up to Plundercrash as the other pirates revert to their root modes, don their beards again, and disperse. "Cap'n, I thought for sure I'd have to plug that one." The captain emits a short snort of laughter in response. "50-50 split, though, sir? Seems we could 'ave gotten a better deal, what with their skills at parley, or lack thereof, sir."

The captain smiles. "Oh, now, boyo. Parley is a delicate art, and I've a lesson for ya. I said 'twas a split between my pirates and the townies. My, not all."

The sniper's brows arch up. "Simoom?"

"Simoom," the captain answers.

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