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Septette Arcubielle      Gladsheim is a beautiful, rumor-shadowed place. It is the gleaming ruins of an enormous underground laboratory, all the more unusual for its location: Etria has not seen entire buildings made of metal in hundreds of years, and this one is exposed to the surface only near the bottom of a grassy, isolated valley; there are no human settlements for miles. It is arduous to reach on foot, but trivial to reach by teleporter: on the surface floor is an artificial Geomagnetic Pole, a permanent magical teleporter beacon that broadcasts a homing signal as far as high orbit.

     For decades, people have claimed that Gladsheim is home to great and mysterious treasures, and that the aliquots salvaged from it in years past have barely scratched the surface. Yet few seem willing to delve deeper. In contrast to the vicious and omnipresent wildlife of other dungeons, Gladsheim's artificial confines offer fewer monsters, but a sense of foreboding and death lingers heavily in its claustrophobic halls: from the moment one arrives via the Geomagnetic Pole's swirling column of pink light, that oppressive sense of dread is bearing down. Whoever built this place never intended it to be looted by interlopers, and it shows in the quiet, sterile menace that the gleaming turquoise metal walls still present.

     The first floor is all but picked clean of treasures and monsters both, but the teleporter pad leading to the next sector is all but untouched, and exudes a peculiar sense of menace. Technological analysis of the surrounding crust would reveal that spherical 'black holes' pockmark the 3D cross-section of Gladsheim, blatantly obvious in how they appear as obstinate gaps in any form of scanning. The known unknowns keep piling up, without even factoring in the idea that there is no way to determine where the teleporter leads without sending something through...
Starbound Flotilla "Worried. Further system failures in the scanning output."
"Hmph. Further equipment failure?"
"Nah, naaaaaah... It's showing up even on the repeat sweeps."
"Aye, 'tis a grim omen. Something hidden be something dangerous."
"Floran think, we not have choice."
"What lies unknown may yet hold threat, or treasure. But it shall be neither to those who dare not see it. The teleporter is functional, and that is what we must focus on."

    Moonfin stands up from his kneeling position, adjusting the armor of one arm as he does. It's held together with emergency plating, a sign of the times. George tosses his worn durasteel sword back to him, moving so much more casually with the missing shoulder segment on his EVA gear. Albert grunts, tilting his head, covering the assembly on the teleporter with a scratched and singed missile launcher, Pavo taking the fore position on the pad to take the vanguard, running diagnostics on her inevitably-failing armor thrusters. Seft and Biteblade are the only ones whose armor seems in good repair. Seft, because of her expertise, and Biteblade, because wear and scrappiness is just expected.

    They're on the defensive. Emergency retreat teleporters aren't working, so this is a high-risk excursion. They ready their weapons, prepared for a tremendous challenge, and hopeful for materials that they could use to restore their manufacturing... Their eyes have been keenly attentive for such technologies and materials, only somewhat discouraged by their absence on the first floor. They're still so hopeful when they head to the second...
Septette Arcubielle     The large antechamber that greets them is less overgrown, more sterile- yet the blackened scars and raking gouges on its metal floor, walls, and even ceiling indicate that the sense of foreboding was accurate. They grow denser the closer one gets to the teleporter pad, and barely touch the more distant corners. This room is a prepared abattoir, and a very messy one. A half-dozen baseball-sized drones of varying colors hover in strategic locations around the chamber, each focused on the Captains, and gaping sinkholes in some scattered places around the room are ringed with scrabbling clawmarks- the burrows of strange beasts, perhaps? Or traps sprung by past explorers?

     For a moment, the room is perfectly silent save for the Captains: the drones hover expectantly, waiting for some kind of signal; the activation hum of the teleporter winds down to nothing. Then the silence is broken by a soft, familiar voice from behind the teleporter.

     "Hm. My apologies, Captains. I certainly wasn't expecting visitors." Septette steps dramatically out of the shadowed back corner of the room; judging by the deep red glow of her superheated claws, she was expecting enemies instead. "To what do I owe the... surprising honor of your visit? Don't tell me you were worried about me?"

     Septette's mouth curls in a warm, playful smile- she has to know they were here to loot the place, but doesn't seem to begrudge the Captains that. Her piercing lavender eyes flicker over their gear, and her look settles into one of mild concern as her claws cool to their natural hue. "Perhaps I should be the one worried about you."
Starbound Flotilla     The crew remains silent and cautious, staring at the surroundings, weapons drawn and prepared, ready for an ambush or at least ready for a trap. Their tactics remain effective and airtight. They rattle off checks and counts of the drones, readying their weapons in cautious preparation and observation. Then comes the voice. A bow draws taut, safeties are flicked off, and a blade SHWINGs ominously against no sheath at all, in sudden caution about the voice.

    Biteblade is the first to drop their bow. "Bonesss... Friend...?" She whispers, as if not believing her eyes. Then she tosses the bow to one side and basically glomps Septette. "BONE FRIEEEEEEEND!! Bone friend isss here! Hey hey hey hey hey how're yooooou! Floran worried! You ssscare Floran! Make up to Floran, you let Floran keep hug for now!" Yes, she does apparently intend to stay attached to Septette's torso, such as it is. Weird to hug, but it's the gesture that counts.

    George is the one who's a little more informative. "Hey hey, don't spook my guts like that, skelly! Septette! Been ages! Didn't know this side of stuff was your turf too, or that you were chillin' at homeworld this whole time!" He holsters his pistol and approaches. "We're cool on the traps, right? Just, like, shove me if I'm about to walk on a death button."

    Albert stays on the pad, but lets his missile launcher rest instead. "Hmph." He grunts, as usual. "You're alive. Good. Core Fleet was severely damaged and reduced by opportunists after the upheaval. Manufacturing and repair capacity is limited, business options null. Seeking materials and technology to restore working fleet capacity." Quick and simple.

    The others also surge forward, gathering around and being friendly and positive, asking how Septette's been and things like that! Each old face seems as friendly as they last day she saw it, like picking up a friendship that was paused, just a little more worn by the circumstances.5r
Septette Arcubielle     The little robot grins almost from ear to ear as she oh-so-carefully wraps her arms around Biteblade, holding her cooling hands at an awkward angle to keep them from brushing against her floran friend's likely-flammable skin. She leans up on tiptoe to rest her chin on Bitey's shoulder, and gives a happy little finger-wave to the rest of the Captains too! A truncated giggle manages to escape her lips. "Sorry, Biteblade... it's good to see you too! I'm doing alright; just picked up a few more paint scratches. You doin' alright too, buddy?"
     "Hey, spook you?" Septette pokes the tip of her black tongue out at George and furrows her eyebrows slightly in disapproving suspicion. "I thought you were here to try and wreck my shit! Ever heard of knocking, squishy?" She rolls her eyes for effect, then spins around with Biteblade and scoops her up in a bridal-carry position, and strolls over to the pad seemingly unencumbered by the floran in her arms.

     "Sounds like things are rough out there," she adds to Albert. "Sorry I haven't been around to pitch in- there've been... circumstances in Etria that prevented me from diverting my attention elsewhere. Delicate problems that kept giving rise to more delicate problems when solved. But you should know better than to ever think I've finally bought it! In fact, I'm just about ready to offer my expertise again, should you all be able to benefit from it."

     As her hands are quenched- ice magic is invaluable here- she greets and catches up with the others, basking in the effusive joy of unexpected reunion, asking about Seft's blacksmithing, Pavo's lean pickings, and Moonfin's... being Moonfin, with equal enthusiasm and warmth. Septette herself looks a little more worn, standing just a hair less straight- but she never forgets a friend, and easily forgets herself in moments such as this.

     Finally, she pulls back from the friendly mob a bit, still holding Bitey in her arms (if the squirmy floran will allow it!). "You're free to look through this sector for raw materials as much as you like- I doubt there will be much technology here useful to you, though you may be able to recover /something/- but I do need to ask a favor of you. Do not enter the dead zones. You'll know them when you see them- perfectly inky black spheres, or what you can see of a sphere protruding into a room or hallway. You might not pull back a stump- but you'll draw the attention of things that you'll wish you hadn't. Am I understood?" Despite her somewhat more serious tone, she still can't quite wipe the smile off her face, undercutting the solemnity of her warning somewhat.
Starbound Flotilla     Albert grunts. "Survived this long." He says, seeming to take Septette's survival as something that's granted. "Expertise. You'd return?" He shoulders his missile launcher and pops a holographic display. It flickers, dangerously. "Planning to make contact with a new Multiversal faction. Resume work at a higher scale."

    Moonfin strides alongside Septette, giving both her cooling claws and Biteblade's happily hugging form a wide berth. "Indeed. While sacrificing our independence is no meager loss, it promises to restore our glory enough to achieve our goals. If you'd join us in our initial collaboration, we'd certainly be quite grateful. At my guess, your inclinations are of the sort that should find little trouble in the Concord, should you wish to make such arrangements more extensive. Ah! But that is a decision for later."

    "Cheerful. For now, we can work together. Thank you for the offer. Please, it would make us very happy to have your company while we do our work. Would you come with us?" Her eyes flicker to big hopeful blue orbs. "Optimistic. We don't have much of a remaining vessel these days, but it flies, and... Would be a little more like old times."

    Pavo cheerfully calls out, "Aye! And ye would have quite a fine ride to our next raid, lass! Ye look worn down by yer delicate problems. Why not weigh anchor and find some simpler, tougher ones with us? We'd gladly have ye aboard!" Of course, she's already surging ahead with the group, eager to harvest. "Orbs, aye...? Me lookout toaster here detected 'em. Ye be understood, lass, but only by halves. What's in 'em? No pirate wants to be stealin' the looks of her enemies, but..." She's always -- always!! -- on the lookout for loot, and not being able to see the absence of it herself always makes difficulties.
Septette Arcubielle      Septette tousles Biteblade's leafy hair and starts walking towards the room's exit, a heavy-looking sliding metal door. "It hardly feels like I ever left, Albert," she replies cheerily. "At least, I made no conscious decision to do so. And it feels as though it's been hardly any time at all..." She laughs softly. "For me, at least. I suppose it was several months, wasn't it? One thing just... led to another. I'm sure you know how that can be."

     "I'd be happy to accompany you, Seft! And I suppose I don't really have a choice. After all, Biteblade wouldn't miss out on an adventure, but she's not letting go of me anytime soon either..." She nuzzles her face into the side of Bitey's neck a bit for emphasis, giving the floran another gentle squeeze. "The Concord sounds... interesting. I've heard a fair bit about them, but I'm not ready to make any kind of formal committment before I've finished my due diligence on them. I'm sure you understand."

     She smiles with approval in reference to a raid- "Even if it has nothing to offer me personally, I would be honored to accompany you. Someone has to make sure that my most valuable allies are kept safe, after all. That can be reward enough. Simply tell me when and where."

     But Septette's expression abruptly turns cold and baleful at the bird's later remarks, and she stares at the pirate with unflinching eye contact. Her voice is perfectly still and flat, devoid of the subtle emotional quaver it normally bears. "Engrave this into your memory, Pavo, because I consider you a friend and have no wish to carry your pall so soon. This place will be the end of you if you cannot hold your curiosity, as it has been the end of so many before you. The deadzones are not vaults, but cages. What dwells in them has nothing to envy."
Starbound Flotilla     "Uneasy. I rather dislike much of their policies..." Seft says in the neutral tones that so often carry her great discomfort. "Resigned. But, it is the way we will survive to accomplish our goals." She emits a few happy, giggle-like beeps at Septette's current trouble, flicking her eyes to a happy ^_^. "Joking. Well, now that Biteblade's scheme has worked, I suppose nobody could blame you for coming with us."

    "Floran, great hunter! Catch big bones friend! Great hunt! Now everything, going to be fine!" Biteblade calls out, making happy and triumphant gestures eagerly.

    "Bitey's got schemes now? I thought those only come in during autumn." George cracks wise as he moves on. Pavo looks like she's going to ask more, before he puts a hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, don't worry, Bones. Some stuff you just don't touch. Leaves it around and working for when you gotta shove someone into it, right?" He laughs a bit there. It's a conscious and conspicuous effort to defuse the tension. "Age before beauty?" He says, letting her take the door out first, and emphasizing, if only for a moment, his keen awareness of her EXTENSIVE lifespan, even while her face has kept its youth much better than his.

    Albert grunts, agreeing. "Understood. Weren't any chances to bring new collaboration in. Just circumstance." He just lets the point flow right through the conversation without any real attachment to things. "Work never ends." Impossible to read, that guy, even for someone who spends thousands of years manually learning human expression.
Septette Arcubielle      Septette lifts Bitey up over her head before carefully settling her friend on her shoulders, switching to a piggy-back-ride carry style to free up her hands (and give Biteblade a novelty boost in comparative altitude!). "If it is any comfort, Pavo- I know little more than you do about these deadzones. This place predates my creation by centuries. All that I know is how many skeletonized corpses I've found lying halfway inside one of those bubbles, and what little I've seen the few times I've peeked in myself."

     She strolls over to the door, and gently punches George on the shoulder. "Yeah, and pearls before swine, squishy. Now, here's how you open this..." For a moment, it seems as if Septette is going to recite some magic word to open the futuristic doors, or press a hidden button. Then, abruptly, she simply wedges her bladelike fingertips between the two halves and pulls them apart with an awful screech of rusted metal on metal.

     "There we go," she chirps happily, stepping through the mangled doorway to reveal a nexus ahead that splits into labyrinthine corridors branching in all directions. "Nobody really comes down here but me anymore. There should be plenty of raw materials- particularly, feel free to strip the walls in here; the metal plating isn't load-bearing- but the monsters have been starkly depopulated ever since I began exploring it, as is the general tendency. Are you getting any readings as to where we ought to head first? I'll lead wherever you follow."