1964-10-09 - Astra III: Gorgon Petragon and the Accuser Gal
Summary: Gorgon Petragon may have accidentally proposed something while being instructed to think like a soldier would.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
gorgon hala 

Hour seven. Space. Kree ship.

Whatever else the stories of his people might have prepared him for, did Gorgon ever anticipate being a guest of the Kree? The race of blue-skinned warriors and scientists long faded into legend among the Inhumans, bogeymen to scare bad children, monsters dimmed by the frosty pane of time. Hard perhaps to believe they exist at all, like discovering the monsters under the bed not only are real, but can speak like they're from the upper crust of Boston (in one case).

Gorgon is escorted to chambers provided in spartan relief, though they're not in any way problematic. A slab of a bed proves malleable to touch, contouring to the body. A nub on the wall provides a spot to hang clothes, and a battery of bio systems protest the bloody, huge man coming in in a state. He's not given a chance; automatically the round devices in the ceiling activate and form a ring of orange light. Next up, water — hot — is dumped on him to berid of the blood. Hey, it could be worse, and it's not that uncomfortable, what with a finer chemical spray bubbling down to sluice away the worst.

Gorgon certainly is in a…interesting spot. He never in his wildest dreams imagined he would be on a Kree ship…and if he was? He thought he'd be on his last day fighting off Kree warriors in glorious combat…

This is most certainly a strange instance. Though he visibly frowns when he's apparently in for a big bath, getting doused. He takes in a deeeeeep breath even as he gets partially dried. thankfully, he doesnt seem too bothered by the hot water. He's tough like that. Though when it's done, he walks towards the bed, still clad in his heavy armor from Attilan as a sign of his station….

He pokes the bed once….twice…

thrice…. four times. "That is weird."

Not glorious combat, but hygiene being respected. The dousing removes the blood from his beard and his chest, though there's nothing much to do for his tunic. Fortunately even this is considered. A hum fills the air, while bloodied, messy water drains into the floor. Out comes a sheet of fabric in a plain brown weave, the high collar and loose sleeves a bit of a tunic. It's totally hip for the Sixties, probably unintentionally so.

The neat bundle, with a towel, falls to the bed.

Gorgon would run a hand through his majestic beard, feeling some of the blood get washed off. Though he looks now to the bed, tilting his head at the fabric being put on the bed. He looks at what he's wearing and just stands there, looking around the room.

"I'll pass…"

He looks back to where he entered from, likely trying to strategize how many ways this all could go very…very wrong.

The room remains entirely quiet. It lacks much for furniture that anyone would consider inspired. Bed, seat, facilities for personal business; that's about the gist of it. Clearly it's intended to be a place for repose and rest.

Gorgon is thus left to his own devices for now.

The Inhuman Guard Captain lets out a small growl, taking a disciplined seat on the bed, and feeling it mold around him. He rests his forearms on his thighs, looking around the room. It's too quiet…it's like he could almost sense that he was about to get questioned….or something.

It was a strange feeling, and Gorgon did -not- like it a single bit. His eyes constantly on the march, his nose constantly sniffing for scents….seeing if anyone was approaching, or if anything was off about the room.

|ROLL| Hala +rolls 1d20 for: 7

Time slides back and forth, a strange thing without a view of the stars and no sense of where they are. The big man's balance isn't compromised, suggesting the systems are stable, intact. Easy to measure which systems on the ship are active and those which aren't, the subtle carbon scrubbers in the atmospheric cleaning vents lending their curious fragrance. There's the scent of the cleansers that washed off his body if not his armour fully, the sweat of himself, if anything. But that seal is pretty damn good on the wall-panel door.

Time. Time, tricky thing, slithering all around. If Gorgon ends up not shouting and bellowing, he'll find himself with a visitor.

Gorgn didn't like this -at all-.

He would rise to his hooves, pacing around the room with a growl every now and then, like a lion trapped inside of a cage. He becomes impatient. How did he know if that Accuser didn't harm his family and friends? No idea. None whatsoever. Though eventually he would pause, his head turning to glance to the door as he gives his knuckles a light crack beforehand. Who would be his visitor?

The door slips open a fraction and there stands an individual Kree; blue-skinned, dark hair pulled back under a helm. The green and white tunic hangs long, barely belted, emphasizing the physique no less impressive than Gorgon's own. A hammer, of course, who on this ship doesn't have one? Wonder they don't call it the Imperial Kreespace Thor Ship. Either way, however, the individual Accuser inclines their head. This isn't Hala, for she is taller still. "You have not availed yourself of food or drink as yet?" A surprised sound, perhaps. That English is so Bostonian it hurts.

Gorgon would look this Kree woman right in the eyes, though he did notice that….like everyone else on this goddamn ship, she -also- has a hammer. Only thing that would make this better is if a 'hammer time'-esque song was out.

Though at her question, Gorgon shakes his head "Not really hungry or thirsty, so I haven't done so, no." he says not with a hate in his voice, but rather giving a straightforward, honest answer.

The Kree anchors a position in the doorway, hands clasped formally before her. Her diction is excellent, all things considered. There is no excess of language, no flowery poetry between them. Her poise is no sloppier than Gorgon's.

"Your nutritional needs will be met." She is hard to see, under the helm, partly because of the bridge-piece reinforced by a faint sheen of a visor. "I do not talk like a politician. You are a warrior." Said as point of fact. "Let us cut to the bone. Why do your people go to these places?"

Gorgon gives the Kree a little smirk at her words, though he takes in that she is most certainly trained to be a warrior like he is, maybe even stronger. The Kree were not ones so easily trifled with…unless you were Gorgon. at least in his mind.

At her words, Gorgon doesnt seem to answer when she says that he'll be fine in terms of food and drink, to which he simply nods…and that's it. At her final question, Gorgon would give a little sniff, cracking his neck a little.

"You're relays have been attacking us. Our City. We retaliated." he says simply, watching her as he only for a moment paces before fully facing her.

The Kree have solidified the violence in the system to an act of being, putting even the Shi'ar on the backfoot and cracking Skrull heads for millennia longer than humanity has even been marching around relatively upright.

"We do not have relays," she says. "Not on this planet. Have you seen other Kree before this? No. So it is not something I understand."

This appears to annoy Gorgon extensively. He growls a moment then, showing some of his animalistic side.

"Really. No relays. How do you think we got here then. We also received a message from you, Kree. You demanded for Attilan to 'Submit to justice". If it sin't you, sure as hell sounds and acts like you." he paces a little more.

"Where is the group I came with? Do you treat them well?" he asks, warrior-like eyes staring down the Kree. The Kree herself able to realize something in the warrior before her.

No fear.

The Accuser is hardly impressed. Her impassive response amounts to balancing her weight evenly between her feet. "Do you still fire stone arrows and rut in the dirt?" Let's see if that hits a mark. "We do not use relays. You have cutlery, not only your fingers. Can things not advance?"

Her tone doesn't leave that neutral zone, a grey space coloured with a creeping distaste and not much else. Soldier, through and through, but a levier of justice and the executioner at that.

"The others have quarters due their needs. More water. Space to rest. You choose not to use this hospitality. They have," she adds.

Gorgon would keep his pace, locking eyes with her as he moved to and fro. Not answering her initial statement as she effortlessly delivered, though it came as smug to Gorgon.

"I am happy that my family remains safe." he growls though "However…"

"If you -truly- own no relays, explain then. We've given you our argument. and you have a 100 assurance that you -truly- have no presence here? How do you believe we arrived here? your defenses were already in place, hence why we were teleported in this godforsaken area. Our city was hacked, we retaliated." he growls as he says that last bit again to push a point. before he stands still again, staring down the Kree.

"We do not use relays. They are something like stone arrows to you." The Accuser pauses, struggling to find the words or translate what she means to say clearly. "Obsolete, this is a word for something that has no use now. No one has these things. They are not old, they are something for very, very long ways past. Our people would not have them. We do not know how. Do you know how to make a knife from a stone? I think maybe not."

Put it on a scale of a warrior, and there they are, persumably clearer. "We heard a far cry for help. One that came to us where no one had called before. We came to see. It is clear this is a trap for us, yes? Your 'retaliation.' How is it that you are not a boarding party? We know what your man is, what he does to the machines. You are a warrior. I see a threat to hurt those who say 'Why does this message beg for help?'"

The Accuser shrugs a shoulder again. "We have two stories. They are not meeting up. So you see here, where the problem is. Who is making the break in the middle?"

Gorgon would eventually just turn his back on the Kree, and take a seat on the bed. Back straight, eyes forward, hands always at the ready. "Bet I can make a knife out of stone…." he mumbles so softly only he could really hear it…unless that Kree had bombastic hearing!

"More like a trap for 'us'. The man you speak of is attempting to help fix our core. if that goes, we are rather handicapped." he takes a seat. "and that's all I'll say on that matter. I am not meant for idle diplomacy." he stares at the Accuser.

"and what is this -other story-?" he says still rather unamused. He doesnt seem to like being there at all.

"We come to see a call for help. You are somewhere on Earth and come here. You think we threaten you. You bring a threat to us. Is that not clear? Come, warrior, you know tactics?" The Accuser challenges him, peer to peer, as the ancient jousters on their horses saluted one another before lowering the lances and charging at one another.

"I tell you I am not a diplomat. It is true. I am made to judge and see weakness. Tell when lies are told and laws broken." This is why the Kree are dreaded, for their corps of lawmen and women, able to span the stars in relentless, dogged pursuit. They do not yield or bow or halt. "So think to this, soldier. We come. The old message calls for help. Yet you are here, and why are you here, waiting for us? You think we come for you but we did not. You came to us. You are, you say, /brought/ to us. Who gains when we are put together? Who is not here who would gather so much?"

Everyone knows, when challenged, Gorgon is never one to back down.

at her words, Gorgon would rise to his hooves once more, approaching the Accuser but stopping at a respectful distance. "I know tactics. Such that give you Kree a run for your money." he says most likely in overconfidence, but he had his own honesty in his words.

Though when she speaks that she gives him the scenario, Gorgon growls faintly. "That's what I want to know. You make it fairly clear that it wasn't you, or you're trying to. It wasn't us, and it wasn't you. Seems we have a stranger luring us into conflict of some kind." he looks her in the eyes, turning. Food was sounding good right about now. This Kree woman was giving him a headache.

The Accuser doesn't reach for her hammer. She doesn't invoke half a dozen security protocols that are probably tied into her DNA or something. "Your height does not intimidate me. It may bother others, but I have fought things that make you seem a mledin to a moon." If only there was a translation for the caterpillar-like insect of Hala, but there isn't. This isn't boasting but flat and solid fact.

Space things get really, really big.

"Yes. You see. Something wants a fight. Something to gain. Think then of enemies. Think then of hidden things. Who gains. You know why we do not rush fast into action. It is foolish."

In space…things get -really- big.

Gorgon nods a few times to the woman "If I was trying to intimidate you, it would be done with a fight. I have no intention of a fight yet, so long as my family and companions remain safe." and lord knows Gorgon can put up a fight…though he would likely lose thanks to the numbers and skill.

"Well then, what would you suggest, Accuser?" he ponders, remaining standing to face her eye to eye, peer to peer, warrior to warrior. "Are we allies of circumstance? or are we in each others way?" he ponders.

"A fight. That is how we… court."

Right, Gorgon. You keep antagonizing people and it's a marriage proposal. That is, arguably, how they do everything in the Kree Empire. He might want to reconsider the bland words from the blue-skinned woman.

She tips her head. "What would you do in our place? You have the armour of a soldier. You are not a politic man. As we see it you are here not causing trouble or harmed. It is a safe place until we have answers. It cannot last so long. Do you listen to your leader or are you making time for them?"

Gorgon would turn a shade for a moment when apparently fighting in Kree translates to 'want to date and possibly marry you baby'. He shakes his head a moment "N-no intention of doing so." he moves his head to the side and coughs into his fist. Well, that's a way to break the ice.

He ponders her questions a moment, crossing his muscular arms in clear thought as he takes a big 'hmm' "I would investigate into this. Using every resource that was necessary on the table. Even call upon those who could help, if it had to." he looks her still unwavering in her eyes. though when asked if he listend to his leader, Gorgon would -nod- "I heed the orders of my king and listen to his words." he said that in a tone that was 'and don't ever question it again'.

"Good. Then advise your king to stay as he is before a…." The Accuser puts her hand up, rubbing her jaw rather than backhanding the big Inhuman into his bed or such. "A bad word causes a war. You know that politics is bad for truth. Truth dies when stabbed too many times by nice words. It is the word of the Accuser Serlissa."

Her hand briefly touches her hammer upon saying so. "I will speak with the High Accuser Hala of these findings. You are loyal to your king. I am loyal to my Accuser and the Supreme Intelligence. It is right to use the mind /and/ the body to decide the correct action." How very Zen of you, Kree.

Gorgon would keep his arms crossed, though tensions briefly rose for the briefest of moments, especially when Gorgon sees her touch her hammer. "I'll advise my king to behave. and when you finish speaking with your High Accuser, we will see what actions us both will take." he nods then…though he did think it was very…zenful of her to say such things. He nods to her though, perhaps respectfully? unlikely, but possibly. They were similar in terms of position and station, after all.

"Good." With that, the Accuser steps back and the doors seal shut. Is there a word for goodbye in Kree? Probably. She isn't using it.

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