The Restorationists, an organization that focuses on ancient technology and the restoration of the old ways, has uncovered an ancient town that had been completely buried in a mountain. A call was then put out as it was found that the mountain was full of ancient technologies and robotics that defended this technology. Because of how massive this underground complex is, the local Knights of Genetic Purity, humans who pride themselves for not being mutated, and the Bonapartists, mutant animals that pride themselves for their mutations, have put aside their differences to assist in this project.
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Together these three groups of people have cleared out enough of the front of the complex to provide a safe haven. Even the Healers, a pacifistic group that will help mend anyone for a donation to help the next person in the future, have shown up to help hoping that ancient medical techniques can be found inside.

You have assembled with either your traveling companions or alone and were put together by lots into a team to delve into this huge complex. All the Restorationists ask is that you make a complete map of what is there and bring anything you find for inspection. If you find something they want, they will pay full market price for the item.

OCC: Let's start with a description of your character, whether your friends with someone or alone, and why you came here.

If a tree falls in the forest, and there is no one to hear it, does it make a sound?

While that answer is worthy of zen pondering, the question of what is happening near the Restorationist compound is much simpler. Specifically, who is that moving tree yelling at? Also, why the hell is it moving and talking in the first place?

The tree in question, calling  itself Treeborn, is not very large...for a tree. Only about 7 feet tall, half that wide, and walking through the braches and foliage towards the compound in question. Unlike other trees, it also was not silent. At all.

"Yeah Doug, I know! I can see them just fine, thank you! I said thank you, how many times do I need to say it!? Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! You are so damn needy!"

The tree...creature...turned and looked at one of it's own immobile and silent brethren. Treeborn had humanoid facial features, including a mouth, eyes, nose and ears. Almost like the face had been grown as part of the tree like body, which also had sprouted large arms and legs.

"What? What was that!?" He shouted at the other tree, which did not respond with words. Its braches slightly waved in the wind, but not due to any sort of unnatural movement.

"Yes, I know! I know! I KNOW! That's it! I'm done! Leave me alone, I am gonna talk to Cindy!" Treeborn paused and covered his face with a massive tree hand.

"Stop crying! I'm sorry ok!? I promise I will talk to you tomorrow!" He paused, lowered his hand, and rolled the odd glowing fungi he had for what passed as eyes.

"I said I promised. Ok. Ok. I will talk to you tomorrow. Ok. Ok. Bye. Bye Doug. I said BYE!" He ended up shouting at the other tree.

"What the hell is wrong with that guy?" He muttered, and kept walking towards the camp.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 17:33, Sun 27 Aug 2023.

Baskia languidly leaned upon her trusty quarterstaff; her long, burnished-titanium fingers wrapped casually around the haft as waited next to Garlain and Riven.  She stood in vigil as she usually did when watching and waiting; with one foot lifted off the ground, raised and rested upon the side of her other leg's knee.  In more arid conditions, it let her keep one of her feet off the dry arid ground.  A reasonable stance (and now an old habit), even if the golden-eyed automaton didn't quite feel temperature and heat the same way that humans or mutants did.

Her single golden eye did continuously move around the front screen of her head unit.  The light scanning and shifting as it traversed across the cunningly shaped convex lens, which helped to magnify and focus things in her visual sensory range.

The servos in her neck whirred lightly as Baskia's head moved to regard the magnificent sentient arboreal as it approached.  "Well," the psychic arcane-construct ventured with only the barest touch of amusement in her voice, "there's something that you don't see every day."  She asked her gathered companions a bit more directly, "What do you make of it?"

Her eye drifted about the area and the rest of the would-be adventurers that were gathering to answer the Grand Call, "And what of the rest of this gathering?  Never thought I'd see the Knights and Bonapartists working together on anything..."  Baskia paused contemplatively for a moment before adding, "Must be something really important inside."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:20, Tue 29 Aug 2023.

Garlain knew that answering the call would be a great opportunity. It might not be quite right to call himself a Restorationist as he didn't always get things right, the way they used to be. He did enjoy many wonders of the lost ages though. His mind was excellent at repurposing lost technology. He could make any "modern tool" from what came to hand in the wastes. It was what kept the, just under 6 foot, tall young man alive. He wasn't particularly bad to look at but not specially handsome. His head was like a dark sheep and his features somewhat angular while his skin kept a respectable amount of color he wasn't overly dark- as many in the wastes burned or at least were deeply tanned. His pale gray eyes unconsciously spoke of things he had seen or had to do to survive and his body was neither scrawny nor even wiry. He had pronounced, effective muscle. It helped him make tools of heavy materials or in one case, make a new friend. Thinking of whom, he turned his head over one shoulder, still with an arrow knocked until he was either safely in the city or going to sleep, "Baskia, it is a tree... Talking to other trees... Who don't seem to talk back. Probably would be rude to interrupt, do you think they are done?" The salvager was keen on not having to rove so much to find new bits and bobs.

Perhaps he had seen too much to discount the other trees being telepathic or some such... Or simply not one to discredit the use of politeness in not being killed by someone deranged.

This ratfolk moves in a strangely mechanical manner, and his eyes appear to glow from within with faint green light. He keeps his body, even his tail, fully covered, but occasionally as he moves, a similar dim light seems to emanate from beneath his clothes. He carries a musket that appears to be made of scavenged junk. He is accompanied by a... thing of clockwork and flesh, in the form of a grey goat... with chitinous scorpion parts that seemed to have been a part of it before whatever arcane tinkering brought the creature to life. It has saddlebags draped across its chitinous back.

From under a broad-brimmed hat, Jaxx responds to Garlain, with a high, reedy voice backed by a faint tinkling sound, "Talking, even when one knows there will be no response, helps delay the madness loneliness can cause. Isn't that right Gerald?" He looks at his goat-scorpion companion, who returns his gaze, but doesn't respond. "Or perhaps, the trees speak, and we can't hear it? Who can know?"

Riven stood relaxed, with his hands on his hips.   Streaks of premature gray were starting to show in his jet black hair, which he kept tied in a tight ponytail at the base of his neck.   He wore comfortable travelling clothes, and kept his trusty rapier handy at all times.   Strapped to his back was his hand crossbow and other belongings.

"Seems everyone is interested in this place," he mused, "and it makes me wonder what happens when someone finds what is hidden here...uneasy alliances might be stressed to the point of breaking, me thinks."

Jax says quietly, "Perhaps, if a fight between the Restorationists, the KGP and the Bonapartists breaks out, it wouldn't be so bad then, if a small independent band of enterprising individuals took custody of the discovery during the confusion... you know, to teach them the value of keeping your alliances..."

Baskia shrugged to Garlain, "Who can say?  But the tree must long for other company..." it only seemed logical and in agreement with Jaxx's assertions, "What can it hurt to ensure that they are not mistaken for kindling?"  Not that a mobile, talking tree creature would ever be mistaken, in all honesty.  But it was an excuse to try and get the thing's attention.

As a mobile, talking pile of metal, Baskia was more than willing to give the creature the benefit of the doubt.

Her single golden eye slowed its casting about settling then focusing on the ambling Arborial.  Using Prestidigitation to form a small clump of dirt into crude hand that mimicked her own and then Mage Hand to raise it to eye level of Treeborn, Baskia simply gestured for the bark-skinned creature to amble their way.

Even as she beckoned Treeborn, she idly agreed with Jaxx about their supposed fitness as custodians, "For safety and educational purposes, of course."  Her eye never left what she was doing with the dirt and the trees, even as she added, "Fulfilling our own curiosity and pockets are only natural side-effects of such important duties."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:56, Tue 05 Sept 2023.

In reply to Baskia Primavera (msg # 8):

Treeborn seemed to ignore the hand of dirt at first, still staring at other trees and grumbling under his breath about them. Then he suddenly perks up, and looks around, as if hearing something. "Crap! You are right Cindy! It is a dirt hand! Who is doing it?" He looked around, and then focused on Baskia and her group. "Them? They have been staring at me the whole time? Yikes..." He brushes off his wooden body, as if cleaning up his clothes. Then he lumbers over to the group.

"Uhhh...that rock hand is yours I take it?" He said, looking at all them. "I am called Treeborn." He paused. "For...obvious reasons."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:29, Tue 05 Sept 2023.

Riven nods respectfully at the newcomer to their group.

"You may call me Riven," he says simply.

What makes it even more odd is that it seems every Cryptic Alliance around has come. You can see Radioactivists, Healers, even a tent with the Ranks of the Fit and the New Dawn symbols painted on the side. There's even a booth with a pair of Created, much like Baskia is, that has a well written sign that can't quiet be read without fully approaching it. There must be something great for everyone to come together and not just kill each other outright. Sure there are some minor squabbles that break out from time to time, and each faction seems to have staked out an area for themselves. Some of these enclaves will have a sign, most just have a few of their members stationed out front, all decrying the benefits of joining each faction and what they are hoping to have anyone find for them. Only the Healers seem to be above the petty bickering as they go about their lofty goal of helping any injured being. It doesn't hurt that everyone gives them a decent level of respect as all have been helped or know someone who has been, by them.

Near the center is a large tent set up in the huge cavernous area where many beings are lead to to sign up.

Baskia nodded to Treeborn as the large mobile plant approached and hailed them, "You surmise correctly, Friend Treeborn."  She chose to address the sentient tree as a friend in the hopes of fostering some good will.

With Riven having introduced himself, Baskia did the same for herself, "I am Baskia."  She continued to stand on one leg with her other foot propped up against the supporting limb.  The golden-eyed automaton introduced the rest of the group, "That is Jaxx and Gerald, " pointing towards the Ysoki and his companion, and then towards weathered human with the scavenged armor and weapons, "And that is Garlain."

"We are pleased to make your acquaintance." Baskia pointed to the makeshift camp area, "Will you break fast with us?"  Though she didn't really eat (and had no idea what Treeborn might eat), she was more than willing to offer up space near her, "We've always found that there is some safety in numbers."

Her eye resumed scanning the various encampments, pausing briefly on the gaggle of robots near the Created.  "I have no idea," Baskia mused aloud and obviously not really associating herself with them, "What those guys are about."

But then she noticed the administrative tent, "And I think that we'll need to register."  It seemed logical, otherwise this might turn into a true free-for-all; but she expected a better organized riot.

---

[OOC:  Society is definitely not Baskia's forte...

  14:47, Today: Baskia Primavera rolled 8 using 1d20+2 with rolls of 6.  Society/INT check:  Cryptic Alliance - The Created. – 8

Told ya ... :D]

Garlain had met a lot of sorts on his wanderings and wasn't on great standings with any particular organizations but he tried to help out most he came across. He might reliability be able to tell folks at least the unbiased basics of any particular organization they might be interested in. "Everyone is interested in ancient weapons that function the way they're supposed to, and ammunition. Some organizations have specialized interests... A few think certain types of beings should rule the world. We might just be able to register by the site as a group and turn in finds or take requests from particular groups at their tents. They might not let folks join until a certain level of devotion has been witnessed."

Jax makes a tsk tsk sound and says, "Certain types of beings should rule the world? Seems foolish for anyone to rule the whole world. I wouldn't trust anyone to rule over someone they've never met, we all have different wants, needs and skills! Besides, most Ysoki only really obey our grandmothers-- anyone else can be negotiated with or safely ignored...oh, registration? Right, paperwork. Not my forte. But if they want us to name our little group, I suggest Looteous Jaxximus. But, I won't be offended if any of you have other suggestions."

Looking at the various groups, the PCs know:

[Private to Garlain Kromeel: You know that the Ranks of the Fit are also known as the Bonapartists. They are a group of mutated animals, gnolls, bugbear, catfolk, and the like, that believe that humans are the reason for all that is wrong in the world. They also believe that they should be the rightful rulers of the land and aren't afraid to take it by force.]

[Private to Jaxx: You know that the New Dawn are also know as the Seekers. They are an alliance of beings, both human and nonhuman, they have rejected technology.]

[Private to Treeborn: You know that the New Dawn are also know as the Seekers. They are an alliance of beings, both human and nonhuman, they have rejected technology.]

[Private to Baskia Primavera: You know that the Created are usually robotic beings, but that's all you really know.]

[Private to Riven: You know only that they are crazy and worship radioactivity.]

Jaxx says, a bit disapprovingly, "New Dawn are the Seekers. What do they seek? Don't know. Not technology-- they reject it. Can't say I understand why. Tech makes everything better... eventually. But they don't care if you're human or not, so there's that, I guess. Name's silly though. 'New Dawn?' Had one this morning. Be another tomorrow, I imagine. Better to name it after something we only hope to get everyday, like 'Breakfast' or 'a Healthy Bowel Movement."

"I am not sure, I trust those guys..." and she pointed towards the Created, "even if they are machines with some similarities to me."  It was just a vague feeling though, nothing concrete.  But, no matter, Baskia definitely preferred the present company, including the newcomer.  She shrugged lightly, partly to show the ready dismissability of her opinion.

"We should register." the titanium-skinned automaton agreed with Jaxx.  She looked at Garlain, who seemed to be the face of the group... or at least the most socially knowledgeable, "Do we all need to go?  Or just one representative?"

After a contemplative pause, Baskia ventured, "Dunno about Looteous Jaxximus ... but we do need a group moniker."  There was another pause, "Perhaps:  Bagar Jaritre or Trerija Garba?" which she simply seemed to have constructed from the first few letters of their names in either alphabetical or reverse alphabetical order.  She hadn't included Gerald in the name, but then neither had Jaxx's suggestion.

Baskia humm'd a bit when Jaxx rattled off meals and bodily functions for names.  Then inspiration hit, "What about Parliament Funkadelic?"

Garlain shrugged, "We will not figure out the rules unless we talk to folks. I'll go see what is going on near the entrance and then come back to figure out if we need some kind of sponsorship. Hopefully we can have some time to sort ourselves out before being targets of others. Our little party of free peoples won't last long if all these other groups are gunning for us."