World Tree MUSH

From the open seas of Verdigris there was nothing to see but a large bank of clouds drifting high above the waters. But that was entirely the point. Moisture, cold air and a bit of ice aether mixed together then left to billow out, concealing the their source from most things that would be passing on the rolling waves below.

Atop those clouds was a different story. Like damp airborne barnacles they clung to the hull of the grande airborn craft, camoflaguing the Polar Vortex's true nature as she sailed the high skies. But unlike the smaller airships used by the Regalia Navy there was no visible dergibils keeping the ship aloft. Instead above her rose great shimmering sails, giving it all the more 'classic' appearance of a sailing ship while they collected aetheric energies from the environment, while large rotor turbines adorning the sides providing most of her thrust and occasionally flicked away some of the cloudy cover to keep it from looking too stable and thus artifical.

The lack of excessive external suspension methods also meant the main topdeck had plenty of space to stand upon and let the winds blow through one's hair, as such Renya herself was doing now, hands folded behind her back. "Anything, matey?" The scruffy old goat of a sailor shook his head as he lowered his spyglass. "Nuh-uh-uhttin but wind and wa-a-aves, Cap'n." "Good, would hate to have any rude interruptions while we've got company."

     There may not be any activity below, but there is from above and stern. Approaching from on high, one need only look past the aft of the ship to see the smaller vessels on approach. These use neither buoyant gas or aetherics to stay aloft and, as such, the machines that power them are not nearly as quiet as a seeming cloud. One of the vessels is one Renya and her crew have witnessed before, although it has been some time since that encounter. This vessel is angular with four fore-facing wings, colored red and black, and the plasma engines serving as propulsion, while not deafening, make a tale-tell whine. The superheated air in their wake can cause condensation trails, depending. 

     This approach is not one made alone, for two other ships fly in a staggered inverted V-formation with the lead. One looks very similar in design as the lead, and the other isn't the same at all. As the three draw close, they drift port-side, formation shifting to a sideways delta with a synchronized roll in flourish, and easily slow to match the speed and heading of the larger ship. The lead ship, now close enough that the wings nearly touch, opens its canopy. The oblong and mostly clear bubble with a figure inside parts and slides up and back to reveal the pilot within. 

     It's Wolf O'Donnell. He sits inside his ship, the Wolfen. Leon Powalski pilots his ship, the Rainbow Delta, although his canopy remains closed. His ship is also the greatest distance away. Turning to face the ship and those on the main deck, the wolf passes a casual salute in greeting. "I'm not late, am I?" he calls out over the sound of the trio of personal vessels. He lowers his arm and raps upon something wooden-sounding. "I brought party favors. And a guest. It was invite plus one, wasn't it?"

     Space-side tech or not, Fionn's own vessel has the telltale look of scavenge tucked beneath all those engineered parts, and years of pilot tinkering and repair; and only the two wings to the 4 in the proper set. As they close in, he lifts his head back from his seat and unclips a singular headphone bud from one of his ears. The smaller ship tightens formation and the second canopy pops open to follow. 
     The desert fox leans out over the open edge of the cockpit, taking it all in. "It really isn't the same till you get to see it up close, innit?" He gives a low whistle, and then mimicks the lupine's greeting. "I -think- I'm the guest. Unless I've been woefully misled."

As if on cue a cry comes from the lookout. "Awk! Incoming from aftward!" Don't ask me why it's still called a crow's nest when it's being manned by a parrot, I didn't name the thing in the first place. But there was nothing in these skies like those agile angular-yet-sleep ships, and even when not necessarily a new sight seeing them in action was enough to get pirates gathering at the rails to watch, even if it is a fairly standard approach in the end to come alongside the larger airship.

Renya strolls across to the port side, laughing with her usual exhuberance at the query. "More the merrier as we say 'round here mates!" Followed by an exaggerated bow, and sweeping out the other arm in a grand gesture. "Welcome aboard the Polar Vortex, finest ship to sail sea or sky in this parts." Pause. Then a playful smirk as she stood upright. "Not quite space yet. As much as the Twins would love to try." She eyes Fionn a moment, then his ship, and leans a little over the railing. "I wonder if.."

One of the gunnery hatchs swings open, though thankfully with no cannon protruding from it. Just a goggle sporting raccoon leaning out as she tries to get closer to the ships than she should. Until a second raccoon reachs out to grab her and pull his sister back in, slamming the hatch shut again.

"... I'd be worried if they didn't notice somehow." Renya shrugs a little. "It's an engineer thing, aye... No offense, lad," she adds on the end to the other vulpine.

     The wolf wearing a one-eyed headset removes the headset with a blue lens, tucks it into place where it goes within his cockpit, and begins to undo a single safety strap. It's hardly Cornerian regulation, but no amount of straps is going to save your tail if you get shot up in space. Standing up, the eyepatch worn that was beneath the headset lens becoming visible to any looking, O'Donnell takes a brief moment to stretch his arms and back before leaning over to heft up a wooden crate. It's not a very large thing; it stores very well in the overly-compact space of that cockpit filled with dials, switches, screens, and holographic overlays. 

     Nonetheless, the small trunk-like package closed by a latch is hoisted, a boot is pressed against the middle of the pilot seat, and Wolf says a few words to the cockpit -- presumably the communications console within. "Keep an eye on our ships while you check out you-know-who, Leon. You know how to find us." And, with that, Wolf O'Donnell -- despite the grand height wherein the aerial bodies fly -- steps out onto a wing and uses it like a gangplank to walk the distance over to the side of the ship. "It's not light. Catch," he teases before giving the trunk a toss to whomever seems closest. The contents include bottles full of liquid. "Consider it a bit of a thank you for having us along, even for a brief while." He thumbs over his shoulder in the direction of Fionn's ship. "I'd never hear the end of it if I didn't bring Nichols along. Very curious. It's definitely an engineer thing." With a hop, boots come to contact with the Polar Vortex's deck and his ship automatically closes up.

     If the parrot wants to call it a crow's nest, that's their business, isn't it? Fionn slings a small shoulder-back over his arm after tapping a few displays here and there. The wings tilt, and the engines give a single flare before the Khamsin pulls in closer. His gaze wanders down the ship, checking out features and chancing on the pair that peeks out from one of the lower hatches. "Oh, I know the look and it's no offense taken, for sure. I'm sure we'll be able to get it out of our systems in a tick, at least for a little while." 
     Hand comes up over a big ear, to shield it from the aerial winds as he slips up onto the outstretched wing of the modified Arwing. There's a mild jangle as he comes down next, perhaps softer on his deck and paws than he larger lupine. He dusts himself off, shifts his weight, and makes an oh-so-polite gesture to their host. "It's true, you know. I had to promise up and down I wouldn't try to stowaway or nothin'. Though, we might pick up a bit of the local flavor." He lifts up a small pad from his belt, gives it a tap, and the small ship closes up and drifts back into formation. "... good sport aside, the plus-one is very appreciated."

True to bad luck form, that goat is the one closest at hand when the trunk is tossed. Which results in less of a catch and more him being knocked over under it. But at least it was a soft landing for the trunk and none of the contents are disrupted. A moment later an almost literal hulk of an equine steps over and picks the trunk up with ease. The gruff goat is weezing on the deck and Renya just steps over him to open the lid enough to peek inside. Followed by a wide grin and laugh as she closes it again. "Be a good mate and take that down to the galley Carronade."

As he trudges off to do so she turns back to her guests. "And I'll be sure they don't touch something they shouldn't as well." She raises a hand and snaps her fingers. "Alright, enough lolly gagging boys! Back to your posts. Someone will be ridin' the hemp if we're rudely interrupted by less wanted company!" Cue the majority of the crew scattering back to their jobs. Not that Renya would really string someone out like that, but even loyal pirates take a certain amount of potential threat to keep them in line.

Then she's back to her coy grinning. "Aye, you won't have much trouble blending in at least. For the most part." She wibble wobbles a hand. "Ye dress a little outlandish, but there's been enough offworld traffic no one's gonna think too much 'bout it. Or there's ol' Deadlights if ye more interested in -not- behaving."

     There's no two ways about it. It doesn't matter if you know him or not; Wolf O'Donnell is a rugged and imposing figure. When he makes an appearance, it's known. He doesn't use the same kind of charismatic flair that Captain Rimehart is gifted with and he doesn't need to. Where his ship dares or where his boots fall, he owns the space. Strangely, as some outside observer might find, this isn't the case presently. 

     Of course he's armed, what with his sidearm on his thigh -- what pirate worth their weight in gold wouldn't be in some way -- but he's not hostile, overbearing, or aiming for social dominance. Today, Wolf is a guest. He seems content with that. 

     The contents of the small but weighty chest include a few bottles of Lylatian spirits and a small shot-sized bottle, unlabeled, with something blue inside. Beyond that, a sample of a few well-cut gemstones in a small display box. There's also what appears to be a few small wafer-like crackers made of something purple and grainy with fibers running through it. Obviously, edible, but beyond that... Lastly, a deck of metal-plated playing cards, or, rather, playing cards that have been created using a few metallic inks created from some rarer ores from planet Macbeth. The trunk is probably worth shooting somebody over to rob them of it, although not at all a small fortune. A gift. 

     "Yeah, maybe," he replies regarding the style of dress. "Personally, I like to stand out, even though I'm just...being who I am. Even through cultural divide I'd like to think there's a certain message it gives." Then again, Renya has seen Wolf in action as much as he has seen her, back on that techno-organic space station during that diplomatic bout. Wolf's army wasn't with him today. "Different worlds, but I think it's a concept we both understand well. Thanks for having us. I didn't get to see much of your vessel that first time, back when we were dealing with some sort of monster invasion. I have to say, it's certainly got style. Now that I see you here aboard your ship, I can see the match." 

     It's at this time that the Rainbow Delta leads in pulling away from the Polar Vortex. Despite having no pilot within it, the Wolfen banks away to follow.

     And don't look down or you'll miss Captain Coattails himself. Though he seems content the moment he gets on deck, ears on present company but eyes wandering aside. Patience, young fox, patience. There will be a time to get lost in the woodwork sooner or later. With Wolf, there is no need to look imposing, though one wonders if he could even muster. Still. Not to be trusted alone with a multitool on hand. 
     "Oh, I don't much mind. If they can suss heads or tails out of mine, more credit to 'em. Be more worried about a proper place to dock and all." He strokes his chin thoughtfully. It only seems polite to offer 'em a look when you're going to be doing a bit of eyeballing yourself. 
     "Not to be one to let it all hang out, or nothin', but definitely a nice change in protocol for once." He raises an arm behind his head and glances back towards the side and sky. "First time a'board for me. Boss wuff already gave me proper, but, Fionn Nichols. Chief Engineer back home, and certain appreciator of things what cut through the skies." A quiet pause, a considerate glance to the package and its recipient. There's a certain charm to that kind of diplomacy, his amusement contained to a little tail sway.

It's a delightful bounty, but Renya is polite enough to not rummage through gifts in front of the guests bringing them. Though between the mix of drinks, jewels and entertainment; Wolf certainly knows the demographic he's targeting. Then again, being essentially a pirate IN SPACE, of course he would. Long voyages through space are probably just as potentially boring as any other. Got to keep the crewmen occupied.

"Well, nothing like your craft, but airships abound." Renya taps her chin thoughtfully. "A place to put down anchor ye can certainly find... Wouldn't get hopes up about whatever you fuel those starjammers on though, heh." She gave a firm stomp to the deck with a heel. "Ye'd never believe her core was once just a transport ship."

"Even then she was acceptional though, few cargos had the size and space she did." The raccoon duo have finally made their way onto the deck, the female in the goggles and overalls being the one chiming in on the conversation while her counterpart tails behind. He's the one that looks more at home amongst pirates, resting clockwork muskatoon with a boaring axe mounted under the barrel against his shoulder.

"Ah, finally come up to show face have you!" Renya gestures with her usual flamboyance to the duo. "Maven and Magnum Highjack."

     "Hey, if that's what Nichols wants to do and you and your crew are game for it, go for it." O'Donnell hooks a thumb into the left front pocket of his leather pants, notably not resting a hand on his right so close to his holster bearing his signature gun-knife. It's not nearly as eye-catching from size or length as Magnum's muskatoon, although the impressive size of the blade built into the hand cannon he bears is jagged and brutal and might be worth a glance, if it can be distinguished from the other bits of spiked metal armoring, hanging chains, and ornamentation Wolf already wears. 

     Generally, Wolf is relaxed and that's not because of some sort of magical unspoken pirate code of honor. It's because you can always tell the difference between those that understand respect and those that don't, those that know to always play a hand of cards close to their chest while bearing their heart, those that know that enemies are what you make them and that business isn't always mutually exclusive to pleasure. 

     "'M Lord Wolf O'Donnell," introduces himself to the pair and leaves Fionn to do so for himself. As an aside to Renya, Wolf adds in a lower tone of conversation although Nichols will no doubt hear with those oversized ears anyway, "Told you. I think he'll get along well with your crew. Takes too much of an interest and maybe we can discuss some kind of student exchange or something, ha ha ha ha." It's an honest laugh. Not fake. Not forced. "What's the heaviest haul you've managed? I imagine anything filling the hold of a ship like this would put a bit of strain on your engines." No, he doesn't really understand the mechanics behind how the ship works -- at least, not yet -- but he's going to infer the obvious anyway.

     Commence chatter! Fionn introduces himself proper (again) and basic chatter immediately flows. It's really just a sense of figuring out what the language -sounds- like when two technical jargons collde, somewhere wrapped among pleasantries and general appreciation for similar minds. One wonders, after all that, but he does stick his head up ears first and pipe in. "Ooh, I wouldn't object to an assignment, but you know I'm Wolf's through and through. No heart of me going to change there." He thumps his chest a couple times and puffs up. Imposing or not, reputation or otherwise, the relationship between Captain and Crew is very particular and jests about such flightiness are prone to flowing one way. 
     "Tryin' to put maintenance out of my head for a minute or two though. Brought plenty along to make the home trip..." He bounces on his heels and turns back to company. "How rowdy's it get up in these skies, anyway?" A bit... less of a technical query from the engineer, but such things matter too!

"Aye! Logistics can be a bloody nightmare if we ain't careful." That's okay, even Renya herself doesn't grasp all the intricate specifics of it. She's the Captain, she doesn't need to. "Not like she's gonna drop outta the sky for bein' too heavy, but there's a reason she's mainly an operatin' base and we got smaller craft for the actual raidin'."

It doesn't matter if it's between engineers of very different technology levels from equally different worlds. Technobabble is almost a language of its own, and seems just as apt at getting the ideas across even with the different view points. "Most stormy weather gathers at an altitude we try to stay above, but that doesn't mean we're entirely safe from the harsher currents." "But since the Vortex don't rely on external air balloons, we're more stable even in rough skies." Honestly at some points its hard to tell which twin is talking, they do that thing where they flow in and out of each other's statements like its one train of thought. "As you can probably guess, while we have mainsails they aren't for propulsion." Maven points up at the shimmering forms, and then Magnum points down to the lower decks. "Our system internalizes the aether they collect in compartments, that provides the lift and maintains it." "Also easier to control the intake and output for when we do need to lower to the seas instead."

In other words, the Polar Vortex in some quirky manner uses whatever 'aether' in counter to the atmosphere in much the same way a modern world's submarine would use ballast tanks.

     "Ah ha, well, I suppose that means we can't fully test it by filling it with loot and goods, but it makes for a fun hypothetical." Wolf half listens to the chatter between the engineers, but his body language points him away from the conversation. After a few short moments of the talk, O'Donnell fully turns away and gestures with a finger from his right hand as it rests against his muscle shirt-covered belly within the open vest worn over it all. He points off toward the bow. 

     "Mind if I wander and have a look around?" There's a certain amount of appreciation shared for a reliable vessel. Team Star Wolf doesn't use a mobile base, but they do have access to some carriers and freighters for use on some jobs, as needed. A mobile base is something their rival mercenary squadron, Team Star Fox, is in the habit of using. It's a very different way of playing the raider game, but can be amazingly effective and efficient. 

     O'Donnell's muzzle-whiskers flutter just a bit as he lifts his face and simply takes in the sky. It's a quiet moment of commune, perhaps, likely reminiscent of a salty sailor peering off over the sea of choice, be it water, air, or...blackness. His purple eye focuses far away and, for a moment, his attention becomes completely lost.

     "Oh, we can do anything we set our pretty heads to, can fair assure that." No, the Captain didn't always need to know all the nuts and bolts of how such things worked, but if they wanted it, there were plenty of loyal hands to make it happen. "Aether... I'm familiar with the concept but it varies region to region. Usually kept to a much more local flow, but..." He looks up at the sails for a long while, then shakes his head vigorously. "Gets the job done, right? Efficient set-up you've got here, too. Oh, I don't expect you to give away all of your secrets, but still. Between you and me, 's much as I love the atomic engines and allat, there's just something about a photonic sail. Brings the whole spacing thing a lot closer to, well, this." The fox gestures around grandly. 
     Time and a place for his own personal equations and suppositions, though, as to how it fits into the bigger picture. Always an ear, and careful words. He palms a railing and smiles a little bit. "Wouldn't mind a bit of a tour myself.." Short or long as it may be. 'course, let him to it and he might just stand out here all night. Not realy a luxury he gets in most of his usual courses.

The arctic's tail sways with obvious pride. Renya may not understand all the intricate inner workings but she still gets a great joy from the compliments. "Aye, by all means. Bet it's nice bein' able to walk outside without needin' one of those fancy oxygen doodads." She's about to go into a spheal about enjoying the moment for what it is, but look Wolf is already doing that. For all her bombastic attitude, Renya knows when to let a man have his moment and leaves the spacewolf to savor it. Instead she turns, smiling at Fionn with her typical exhuberance. "Don't matter if it's sea, skies or stars; a good sailor respects where he's been as well as where he's goin'... Just stay outta the chamber with the big skull adornin' the doors. Vex don't like visitors in her private space."

At the mention of 'tour' Maven practically grabs Fionn by the arm to drag him to the decks below. Clearly she's taken a liking to having someone other than her brother that actually understands what she's talking about! There's more than enough mechanical marvels to appreciate even without getting all the inner secrets. Renya chuckles softly and leans over Magnum's shoulder. "Keep an eye on ye sister... and make sure she brings the big ears back in one piece, aye?" Before ushering him off to follow.