DragonHeir
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“The point is the reward, is it not? The best, the most ruthless, the most cunning are supposed to win. We’re not supposed to manipulate them, we’re supposed to create challenges and rewards; to see which is the strongest, who deserves to survive.”
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Ooh! We’ve got bioengineered plants! Put them on its back, for extra fun!
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Alvar calmly walks towards the red wagon, and inspects it. @J. Magi, can you describe the wagons? -
But yes you can… Nature
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Nick nods. “Thank you. Although this getup isn’t just for show; I’m an inventor.” To prove his point, one wing flips up on its own, allowing Nick to pour the canteen down the strut. He tosses it back to the soldier. “That should be one good boost in ten minutes or so; I should probably refuel this thing in a lake after the battle.” Nick goes back to jogging, heavier at first but slowly lightening as the hydrogen splits. “Hey SIMON, do you think this could work?” Nick pictures a hydrogen filled shaft with a modified Ferrian blade-plant on the end, like a glaive. You’ll need the resources - a spear should work if you permeate it with xenosuit. And we can overclock the blade-plant off the hydrogen, and throw in some ferroyeast. That’d wreak plate armor.
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Mine didn’t make it up, but here it is:
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From the speaker in his hood, he asks the soldiers, “Does anyone have an extra weapon or a canteen of water? I’m going to take out the catapult.” He seems to have forgotten that a faceless figure with wings and brightly colored designs is rather strange, and thus suspicious. (Nick has his hood up at this point, and his rather distinctive suit is colored teleportation yellow, moon crystal blue, and dragon planet green. It’s got a stab resistant layer, a fireproof layer, another stab resistant layer, shock spreading, shock absorption, insulation, and life support, in that order. His wings are at minimum charge and out of ballast - any less hydrogen and he’d fall over backward.)
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Utility fog (aka floating nanotech microbots)
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Nick salutes. “Ay ay. Before I go, take this.” He shakes Kaleb’s hand, and a layer of xenosuit sticks to his hand. “The seed is in there. It’ll take a few hours to grow, less if you water it. OWEN can explain more.” Then, Nick jogs off in the direction of the catapult. @The Stormfather, Nick is very intelligently charging into battle without a weapon (towards the catapult). Does he pass anyone who might be able to give him one?
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“Command positions… you have instant access to me no matter where on the battlefield I am. I’m essentially invincible unless they have hybrid weapons or a really absurd amount of energy, like a catapult or something.” Suddenly: “My points are still valid. Unless they hit me with the catapult, they can’t hurt me. Where could I go that would do the most damage?”
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Veer picks it up, walking back towards the cafeteria. “Mead Bush?”
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Veer passes the dragon the book, then focuses, levitating his patient off the ground. He never did get the dragon’s name.
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Alvar is smirking meaningfully at Sleeper until the part about the judges coming with them. Clever, he muses, they’re getting an actual job out of us for free, and we can’t even attack the other wagon without being caught. Although maybe we could spread rumors about the wagons and claim the red one is a decoy… Alvar, not having any actual questions, gets ready to go to the wagon.
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“I wouldn’t say pointless… but listen. We should send a message to that tribute - the one complaining. Sharlin, apparently. Betray her ally for a reward.”
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You could also run (but the GMs would be sad)
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Third points to the screen. “Maybe they do have instincts after all! We should reward that tribute; less if the other one gets away. Hmmm. Any ideas?”
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Nick diverts his path to meet up with Kaleb sooner. “Ok, what’s our plan here?”
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This human game maker was dangerous - but that could be an opportunity. Third smiled back, a too wide grin. “Perhaps hunger will do our work for us; they’ll start to feel it by the morning, I expect. Our first prodding should be a reward announcement.”
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“Death? I should hope there will be more than one.” Third, too, watched the tributes. Unlike the animals he’d managed, they had no instincts, no desire to win. Third gritted his teeth. He shouldn’t have to do this; he should be their equal, or even superior. That was for later, however - both sulking and revenge. “Vistari, do you think the tributes could use some encouragement? I have some aviar that could do the trick.”
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Alvar tries to crack his knuckles, but they’re not back from when he was intimidating Sleeper. He does his neck instead. “Alright, let’s do this.”
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