SCIENCE RUN

Amazing, thank you.

Sorry for not posting! I thought I had but I did not ._.

Anyway, Ana looks good! Maybe a little browner hair, but nothing aside from that.

*pleasant nature noises*



*Record scratch*

Yep, that is the fine bus MAILSTROM. You must be wondering how did into this roadless countryside. Well, this morning, the team ironically received some mail about the urgent need of picking up and delivering some rather sensitive mail items. The client seems to live in the middle of a wasteland, in an observatory. Probably so the city lights will not mess with them looking at all four known celestial bodies.

You will soon arrive and figure out what their deal is, until then, you are preoccupied with one of the most horrible things known to mankind: waking up early.

Lets hope whichever you is driving has already gotten over the morning fatigue...

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SpoilerTime for a little warmup RP, until phase 1 starts...

Reese sits behind the wheel of the MAELSTROM, looking almost obnoxiously cheerful and alert for this early in the morning. It's a good thing that the middle of nowhere has very few speed limits, because Reese would absolutely be breaking all of them right now.

The bus soars through the air as it crests a small hill and slams back into the ground, causing some unsecured luggage in the back to fall off the shelf.

In her stall, Eggnog whinnies quietly in her sleep, still undisturbed by the noise.

The speed and bumpiness of the craft was not helping Griel's killer hangover. Groaning, he shook out a couple of pills, and jammed them into his throat dry. He needed coffee. Now. Probably with vodka in it. Only way to cure a vodka hangover was with more vodka. As always, he was one of the earliest to rise. As always, he did not want to be the earliest to rise. He blearily made his way over to the coffee machine behind the driver's seat, glaring at anybody who looked his way funny. Okay, Griel. Only a few more weeks with this sham of a mail service, and you're home free.

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Spoilerdon't worry, he'll warm up to the others... eventually

You've rarely seen somebody so undisturbed in their slumber by such commotion, but Ginger nonetheless remains sound asleep, despite bumping up and down with the bumping bus. Somebody tried waking her up, or like, at least making sure she's sleeping and not like, dead, but they were rather immediately mistaken for a snooze button, before Ginger just curled up even tighter in her cot. She mumbles something vague about store hours.

A distinct rattling noise could be heard coming from the somewhat cramped kitchen compartment of the MAELSTROM - this sound turned out to be Loz, fiddling with the newly-installed Nitrous Oxide stoves. At the very least, she wanted to cook a simple breakfast for herself (and maybe for the rest of the crew as a bus-warming "gift") but she couldn't seem to get the stove fired up, nor could she actually find any eggs. She contemplated pulling out something from her toolkit to deal with the issue.

Dolomite is flopping around in the driver's seat, one hand trying to hold their binoculars at a usable distance from their eyes, the other struggling between also supporting the binoculars and paging through a very hefty book.

"Ah yes," mutters Dolomite, to Reese, who probably isn't listening. "Pied Chlortlegoose, quite easy to spot and identify once you can locate the source of their cry. Amateurs can confuse it with the Zebraceous chlortlegoose, but the pied prefers open landscapes and has more solid blocks of color."

"I don't suppose you could-" Reese drives off another small cliff, and Dolomite almost swallows the pen they've got clamped between their teeth. They get an eyeful of binocular eyepiece while they're at it, because of course.

"You know what never mind. Nothing bolder than a warblord is going to bother showing their beaks near this death machine anyway. Drive on!"

Gotta set the record straight here, Reese is absolutely paying close attention to the bird chat, even if his avian knowledge maybe leaves a bit to be desired.

"A Chucklegoose huh? Interesting, I'd just been calling them land penguins in my head for awhile now. Maybe we'll see some more soon? I've been hearing noises all morning, but for some reason none of the animals here seem interested in getting any closer to us."

The bus leans to the side for a moment as Reese swerves around a large boulder in the (nonexistent) road.

Griel half-shambled, half-fell, into the kitchen compartment. He managed to not spill his coffee all over himself, and he stood up straight quickly. There was already someone there, fiddling with some tools. She didn't seem too bothered by the chaotic movements of the bus.

"Hey girl."

Loz turned around, startled.

"What are you doing." Griel stated, his morning monotone incapable of forming a question.

"Breakfast!" Loz declared, pointing at the frying pan at the stove. "Only, there are no eggs, and the stove won't start... again."

Griel opened the nearest cabinet, and found a half loaf of stale whole wheat bread. He took one slice, dipped it into his coffee, and crammed it in his mouth. Then he offered the rest of the loaf to Loz.

"Here," he muffled. "It's no toast, but it'll do." Then he wandered off.

Dolomite barely holds onto their manual as the van swerves. "Ngah!" Their path only seems to be getting bumpier, so the binoculars get put away in the depths of their cloak for now.

The birdwatcher checks that their limbs and possessions are all in order, grateful for their seatbelt, before huffing. "Not a chucklegoose, a chlortlegoose. Chucklegoose are not true geese, merely sharing the name due to a superficial likeness. Sure, their appearance is rather mundane as far as Byrdes go, but you can tell a Byrde from a bird because birds don't have vibes."

"You look at a chucklegoose, you know for a fact that thing's laughing at you. Chlortlegeese, while lovely in their own right, are normal old birds. Now - ohsweetmercydonotjumpthatcliff - if it so happened you were interested in the local aviflora - there's a gentler incline on my left here for clock's sake - I could point them out! But please! Slow down the car!"

Reese pumps the brakes and the bus immediately slows down to a fraction of the speed it was going a few moments ago.

"What, what is it? Did we pass the observatory already? Or is it just another birds type?"

As the MAILSTROM's tires screech, some bird poke out their heads from a nearby bush, screeching the same noise back at them. You pass this bird bush for mere fraction of a second, but you will always remember this...

You also pass by a billboard, in the middle of nowhere, with only a group of cacti providing it company. The text on it "WHY NOT VISIT THE", but you can't read the rest. However, you recognize the familiar colours of Planet Aphrodite, Planet Area, The Moon, The Sun and "That Comet That Might Be A Star???" so you are probably on the right path.

A pot falls over, and several eggs spill out, thankfully on a soft towel.

Loz blinked as Griel shuffled out of the kitchen area. She had a strong sense of deja vu - in fact, just yesterday something exactly like this had happened: when she was trying to get the oven started the other day, Griel had pulled out a cereal box out from the pantry, unsealed the packet inside and taken out a handful of cereal and stuffed it into his mouth. He then sprinkled the leftovers into his coffee.

“Here, you can have the rest,” said Griel, handing the cereal box over to Loz and walking off.

Loz was so stunned by this strange interaction that she was at a loss as to what to do next. Griel did say “have the rest”, and she supposed she had to listen to what her teammates had to say, so she downed the rest of the cereal as per Griel’s instructions. It wasn’t very easy, nor was it pleasant.

Similarly, Loz was just about to stuff her face with the rest of the loaf when she spotted a few eggs lying conveniently on a soft towel not too far from her. Perfect! This was just what she needed to carry out her original breakfast plan. She went over to the eggs and carefully carried them to the stove.

Oh, right... the stove was still borked.

"Oh hey, nice catch Dolomite!" says Reese. He turns the bus and heads off in the direction of the Observatory, mercifully cutting his speed down to something only moderately irresponsible now.

Ana groggily got up form her slumber, tumbling out of bed. She fruitlessly attempts to blink the sleep out of her eyes, as she enters the kitchen compartment.

Seeing Loz struggle with the stove, she silently walks up to her and grabs a pan, slams it down on the stove and, grabbing a keyring from her pocket, enters a key into a slot marked "GO". Turning the key, all of the stoves elements burst to life, and the pan is wreathed in flames.

"There. Make me some too, please." She mutters, as she almost collapses in a nearby chair.

As an extremely scientific breakfast is about to begin, the bus stops with a jolt.



It looks like you arrived to the observatory without running anything over!



"What is all this noise?" says a man emerging from the house. Eventually, he introduces himself as Dr. Sqüare Rööt, mathematician extra-regular.

Dolomite noted down the presence of those tire-shrieked Byrdes, the sound and the scene was clear in Dolomite's mind eye as everything happening around it here and now. The kind of messery typical of a Byrde. Dolomite would need to check their guide out later, but it had to be one of an Echoraille or an Unduck, as those were the only Byrdes which mimicked sounds.

"A pasunbeck," Dolomite mumbles to Reese, pointing out the right window. "Probably an escaped domestic, as that lovely teal color isn't commonly seen in the wild."

"Huh really? It looks like it matches up with the bushes pretty well though, maybe it roamed out here for camouflage? Or maybe it was released here on purpose for some reason?" Reese says, putting the bus in park and searching around the console to try and figure out where he put the keys in.

"Why's its beak shaped all weird like that though? It's not gonna try to poke holes in the bus tires or anything is it?"

Dr Rööt nods sagely. "Normally I would be saddened to have been ignored, but I can see you are fellow Byrd Enthusiasts. Herbert, my pride and joy, is a domestic one indeed. He is on his evening walkies at the moment." Herbert, meanders towards the bus, towering over everyone. "I don't worry about him being outside alone. Nothing would dare to hurt him."

Dolomite gets out of the truck and has a better look at this Herbert, trying not to let the Byrde's facial appendages linger too long in their field of vision.

"That," Dolomite says sternly to Reese, "is not a beak." To steer the subject safely away from Byrdely hazards, Dolomite thinks to greet this Doctor. "I believe the mailmen have arrived. I wouldn't know. I'm just here for the feathered wildlife."

"Ah! The noble MAILSTROM company, I have heard so much about you." says the good doctor, his tone is indicating that he probably picked your team by randomly opening a phone book, yet also indicating that he is really glad that you got here.

"Please do come inside, you two. Or is there more of you? I am sure I have enough teacups for everybody."

"Oh yes, of course. A pleasure to meet you Dr. Rööt. My name is Riesling D'Rosé." Reese seems to have slipped into a much more formal posture and speech pattern then the one he was using just minutes ago. He follows the doctor inside.

"The others are still inside, uh.... unpacking. Definitely not still sleeping at this hour."

The door of the bus opens, revealing a surprisingly awake Ginger, travel mug in one hand, fishing rod in the other.
She surveys the area, and determines it is tragically dry. Sighing, she enters the bus again, and re-emerges with just the mug. She joins the rest of the group.
"Dr. Rööt, right? I'm Ginger. Nice to meet you."
She takes a sip of what is presumably coffee, but doesn't seem as groggy as such a heavy sleeper seems like they should be.

Griel was in his usual spot on top of the bus, sipping his coffee, now laden with crumbs. He was always in this area whenever they met someone new. See, he wasn't sure if he could trust anyone, so he trusted nobody. He laid flat on his stomach, and found a spot where he could listen on in the conversation, and listened on.

"Do come inside."

Smarter than he looks, this Dr. Rööt. No way to remain undetected and still follow the conversation. Sighing, he turned around and looked up at the sky. Hopefully nobody saw him here. Maybe the other mailers could catch him up.