Ion Heart, Brandivere and the Circus

Planet: Tyrunus Sempicus – UA Date: 10/12/2983

Local Date: 05/04/2983 – Local Time: 1302

Journal Entry NO 005 – I found the Circus

((Encounter Check, 3+ Random Encounter: 2))

((Story Circuit Roll: 1))

I found the circus. Spotted a smoke column this morning and followed it on over to the caravan itself. It’s a beautifully loud group of mechs and large wheeled trucks, each is painted a bright blue, red, green, or orange. Some of those colors blend into the badland background, but others stand out starkly against the backdrop of the landscape.

The mechs come in a fair variety of medium and light weight designs with most of them being Mo’nau and Apollonian in design. Not the best for hauling, but excellent for putting on a show. That explains the brightly colored trucks hauling the equipment, each branded with the bright moniker of Cerissa’s Cinematic Circus.

I wonder if this planet is known for its alliteration.

*silence for a few moments*

It was a joke. Anyways, the caravan seemed to have found the only soft bit of land in the entirety of the badlands and two of the massive hauling trucks were stuck in the mud. It’s an incredibly mundane reason for being delayed. I spoke with Cerissa, they have a small camp set up just a little away from the mired trucks, and she told me that they were caught in a freak storm a few days ago which caused the initial delay and created the muddy patch that the trucks are now stuck in.

Polter is the beefiest, which isn’t saying much, of the mechs present. The group hasn’t had much luck in freeing the trucks, to the extent that they’d already unloaded one of them entirely, so I volunteered to lend a hand.

((Mech Brawn Check 3+ success: 4))

Turns out that Polter’s assistance was just enough to get the massive trucks free. Polter’s quite proud of himself, and I dare say that he’s earned it. Working together, with the other half dozen circus mechs, we dug the trucks out then with a rocking motion got them unstuck from the mired muck they’d been entrapped within.

I’m going to take a wander about the camp and get a better feel. The circus has offered to put on a private display of their skills for me. I’ll log some more later.

Polter’s addendum: Brandivere undersells her help. While she attributes the work being done to my abilities, she undercuts her genius. Not many would understand that the ship-grade titanium frame of my railgun could withstand the weight of the unloaded hauler and provide the necessary grip for the wheeled vehicle to get out of the hole it’d dug itself into.

She is worthy of the hero status imparted on her by her, our, fallen crew and those who have made stories of them. And she needs check in with the UA military to receive her just accolades. I am glad I discretely allowed Marcy to “peek under the hood” and modify a few systems so I could make these addendums and put my shooting skills to a more peaceful purpose in fueling Brandivere by idly hunting as she also added a modification to my gun to fire smaller and slower projectiles.

The latter… feels nice to take a step away from my war purpose.

Planet: Tyrunus Sempicus – UA Date: 13/12/2983, Local Date: 08/04/2983 – Local Time: 2302

Journal Entry NO 006 – Reminiscing Ringmaster

((Story Circuit Roll: 4))

The circus has a whole bunch of different people working it. It's, frankly, amazing.

*silence for a few moments*

I think I need to upload some colloquialisms to you, Polter. Frankly is another way of saying honestly. Anyways.

*silence for a few moments*

I know you were originally designed in the Chiros Expanse for a Chiros pilot. Look. I'm not fluent enough in that language to know the nuances to provide you with appropriate turns of phrase. I trust you to be able to pick up what I'm putting down more times than not. And whoever's listening to this is probably capable of piecing the puzzle together. Are we going to argue or talk about what we saw today?

*silence for a few moments*

Yeah, well. I don't feel like arguing. Gonna go for a walk. Oh. And I'm taking this with me.

*the sound of someone clamoring out of the cockpit rings out, followed by the telltale efforts of someone climbing down from a height*

*footsteps sound on the recording*

He's understanding, just not entirely so. You know? I don't know why I'm bothering to talk to this thing. I mean, it's not like anyone's on the other end to listen. Or even to care. It's been so long since I was around people, you know? People who get me and can understand my...

*silence for a few moments broken only by footfalls*

*another voice breaks in* 

"Brandivere?"

Hey Cerissa. Sorry, I didn't see you there.

"If you don't mind my being so forward, you look as though you've had better days."

Oh. Uh. Yeah. I had a fight with Polter.

"Your mech?"

*silence for a few moments*

Yeah. Have you bonded with a mech?

"I have not. I ride, but let others, younger folk, pilot those machines. Speaking of, is that a piece of it?"

Huh? Oh, s&^!. I'm sorry, Cerissa. It's my logging device and it's still running. Do you mind?

"Logging device?" 

*there's a soft, dry chuckle*

I used to be military.

"Used to?"

*silence for a few moments*

I still am. And logging is new to me. I'm getting used to this... peace.

"You're talking like the war was yesterday."

*there's another moment of silence*

I don't think I can do this right now, Cerissa. I'm sorry.

"You needn't apologize, child. And to answer your question, you can keep the recording. Can I invite you in for a drink and a story?"

I... I don't think--

"It wasn't a question, Brandivere. You're coming into my caravan and enjoying my hospitality. You can indulge me and my desire to tell a story."

Do you mind if I treat this a little more like a journal and describe a few things? The recorder doesn't take pictures, just audio and written transcription.

"Only if you do it while I get our drinks ready."

*silence for a few moments*

Yeah. Okay. Agreed

"Thank you." 

*there is the sound of creaking metal as a door is opened. footfalls on metal indicate foot traffic once more*

"Do you have a preference?"

Something strong. Capable of stripping deck plating and charging batteries. At least that's what the Urvon mechanics would always haul out when getting us blitzed.

*a dry chuckle echoes slightly* 

"I can manage that if you don't want something that tastes good."

It's been a long time since I had something that tasted good and could make me feel something. And, if I'm being honest, I think I would like to be inebriated.

"Your implants?" 

*there's a beat of silence*

"Can't turn 'em off, eh? Can't say that I'd ever want such a thing. Pure flesh and blood Appollonian here."

*silence for a few moments*

"I think I can put together something that you will feel and doesn't taste like battery acid. I'm not a professional mixologist, so forgive me if it isn't spectacular."

I promise to not hold it against you.

*there's a soft chuckle that fades slightly as though the laugher is moving away from the recorder, the next words are distant* 

"Best do your describing now. It'll be my time when I come back over."

*there is a soft laugh, more a brief chuckle*

I am sitting in the caravan of the mistress of ceremonies and orchestrator of Cerissa's Cinematic Circus. Her caravan is a small house on wheels, complete with a separate sleeping area, though everything else looks to double for something. I'm sitting in a dining and living room while she is a short distance away in the kitchen mixing a couple of drinks. It is cozy, homy. The decor reminds me of... of home. I know that's redundant, but it's been half a century since I was last home and the warm reds and oranges evoke a calm. And those colors aren't normally the colors of calm. They typically evoke strong and brash emotions. But combined with a barrage of holos and cookery, the result is uniquely comforting. The holos display significant events from the circus's history.

"They do not."

What do they convey then?

*the distant voice rises in volume as the speaker nears* 

"Good moments in my life. Just happens that this circus is the best thing that happened to me."

*the clink of a glass impacting metal sounds*

I thought you were the proprietor. The person who started it all. What's this?

"I am. Doesn't change that the circus remains the best thing to have happened to me." 

*there's a loud sipping sound*

"Fruit Surprise. If you're capable of downing the acid a Urvon mechanic calls swill, then this will go down twice as smooth."

Cheers then.

*the sound of glass impacting glass sounds*

That's smooth and really sweet. And immediately warm in my stomach.

*a dry chuckle* 

"Tha'd be the alcohol. Drink that too quickly and you'll regret it. Best take it sip by sip."

I appreciate the warning, Cerissa.

"I wasn't always the jovial, carefree matron you see before you. Back in my youth, some fifty cycles or so ago, I was beaten down and barely surviving. I lived by stealing what I could and taking what I couldn't. Ah, no interruptions. The short version is, I was a brigand. I held people up on the best days and let's just say that the red, green, and blue on my hands weren't always just colorful gloves. It was a hard and dangerous life and one that brought a pittance to me and mine. We barely, as I said before, survived. Before you ask, or try to contradict, this was in the midst of the Nephilim Colossi war the AU was so dedicated to fighting. You know a thing or two about that, I can see it in your face. No. I don't need to know and besides, this is my story. Not yours. You almost walked away when I casually brought it up. Funny how drink loosens a tongue, eh? But yours isn't the one currently wagging and you're not allowed to stop mine mid-story. Now. Where was I?"

You were a brigand during the war.

"Right. Because we're out on the edge and not many folk paying attention to the squabbles on the surface of a dirtball. Anyways. One day, I came up on a troupe of performers. They had a mech, similar to yours, but not a war mech. It was agile and smooth and they had a grace with it. And it was used in their performance. I was struck by their close bond and approached them with an offer rather than the point of my gun, demanding what little they had. That offer was to build a story around their act. To weave a tale worthy of their talents, then sell that to any and every village, town, and port we would visit. To say that they readily agreed would be doing them a disservice. See, their act brought in enough to keep them moving, but not an ounce more."

They were the acrobats. They look so young. I know Mo'nau age a little slower, but still.

"We've had a change in the guard. They weren't originally Mo'nau either. But you're tempting me to skip ahead. I won't. You're right, that I engaged the acrobats with this offer and they countered that the story I wanted to convey with their talents was more than they could manage. I promised them if they would let me, I'd build them up as they performed. I was a beast with a silver tongue, though that tongue'd been used to rob rather than enrich. We traveled together from that point, I shared my stories with them and at the first place we came to, I told them to set up and I would do the rest. I went down into the town, Golem's Respite, and sung their praises. I told any and everyone of the troupe. By the time come for me to head out, I had a throng of 50 or more at my heels, eager to see the performance. The first one... Do you want a top off?"

*there is a himhaw sound*

Suuure...

"There's my girl."

*the sound of the glasses being clinked together sounds*

Am I going to hav'ta wait for th'rest of youur story?

*the answering voice is distant and quieter* 

"Depends. Wanting an accurate capture for your journal?"

Mmmm... Yes.

*the answering voice is distant and quieter*

"Then you'll have to wait. Feel free to dictate your surroundings in the meantime."

Heh. I don't think that neecessary. Don't have much more to add from b'fore. It's pretty cut'n'dry. Your home is cozy.

*the answering voice is distant and quieter* 

"Then look at the far left holo. Give it a good look."

*there is a grunt and a shuffling of someone sliding*

The holo Cerissa is indicating is of her with a group of Chiros. Some have wings extended. Some don't. Cerissa is centered in the holo under arms draped over her shoulder. Smiles abound... I recognize the one on the far right. That's Gyrixos, isn't it? A sight younger.

*the answering voice rises with footfalls nearing* 

"Good eye. It is. We've had turnover since those early days, but he's stuck on from the get-go. Despite my past, when it came out. Here."

Thanksss.

*a glass scraping across a surface sounds*

Goo on. You where... heh, were doesn't have an H in it... You were at the first showing.

"Thank you. I had a crowd of 50 who followed me out of Golem's Respite. All sorts, all ages, all comin' out to see the acrobats and their death-defying feats between a pair of mechs. They wowed them, and I'm sure there wasn't a closed mouth. I wove a story, broadcast through jury-rigged speakers on Fraulin, to match the spectacle. It was a simple tale of a prince rescuing a princess as the sand of time slipped through the air. That was a trick of the lights in those early days. Holos make it a lot easier. The crowd left all a buzz with the show. The following night, we had something like 75 in attendance, and the closing night? Whole damned town came out. The holo I had you look at? That's from the third night. Fella who took it, Bolton, signed up to join the troupe. He had a mech as well, the colorful Yubin that helped with setting the big top up. I still miss Bolton, but time eventually claims us all.

"Anyways. Bolton signed on and we packed up. Fast-forward three other towns and a growing troupe. We were up to two dozen people and 5 mechs. We'd acquired a couple of transport trucks and were well on the way to an explosive growth to what you see around you now. It was then that someone recognized me from my days as a brigand and marauder. It was a small town, Grey's Walk, and the sheriff walked out when I was out doing my gathering and hype. He'd gotten a wave from someone else and recognized me from reports. See I stole things and exacted violence, but I never killed anyone. Maybe an oversight on my part, but I'm not a murderer. Just a really damned good shot with a rifle and the charisma to entice folk to do what I want. Anyways, the sheriff recognized me and hauled me off to the town brig. He put in a call to the magistrate and as his wave went through, in walked James. He was an Urvon that I didn't even know the name of at that point. He walked right up to the sheriff and sat him down. I was certain I was about to see one of two things, either a bloody end to the sheriff or an even faster track to a more secure facility. I was wrong on both accounts.

"James, instead, came and told that sheriff a story. One of redemption and change. He said he knew I was once a brigand and had done horrific things, but that I'd changed and changed for the better. He leaned in close to that sheriff, almost like telling a secret that no one should ever overhear, and told 'im that I was dead. And that's what he should put into his report as the person who he'd arrested no longer existed. And it worked. The sheriff didn't do it immediately, but he ruminated on the story for a day, and I can say that a brig's cot is among the worst places to sleep, before he came in and unlocked my cell. He sent me off and while I walked out of his office, I could overhear him recording a new wave reporting that I'd died in an escape attempt.

"From there, I was freed to build this to what you see now. Our stories have grown, but most have a grain of truth to them."

*there's silence for a moment*

Thaank youu, Cerissa.

"Do you know the lesson to take from this?"

Whaat?

"The lesson. Because, a mighty large number of stories have lessons in them. The truly good ones do at least."

I thoouught you were joost telling me a tale. I was s'posssssed to catch a lesson in there? Canna hava 'another?

"I think not." 

*there is a sound of glass sliding on a surface* 

"Your implants should catch up 'nough for you to walk it off back home. While we wait, the lesson in my story is that people change. Who you were before, whatever it is you're running from? Doesn't matter. It's in the past. I s'pect far in your past, but if you're not ready to talk to me about it, that's okay. You talked about your mech like it was a person, so perhaps that's someone you can talk to."

He is. I think. I mean... I'm still new to this whole thing, but... Sorry. I'm noot makin' no sense. S&^!. He's a peerson. And in the same boat as me.

"And he's family to you then. Same as the whole troupe is to me. I get the impression he'd be there for you if you needed. Have you talked with him?"

Closer then family.

*there's a beat of silence before its broken*

Y'dunno since yer not bonded, but it's almost like we share a mind at times. He's fully sentient, meeanin' he thinks and can act oon his own. And he was awake for the 40 years it took to get here.

*there's a soft sob that's quickly stifled*

And all I've been focused on is carrying on and connection.

"Sounds to me like you've already found a connection. You just need to embrace it. C'mon." 

the sound of shuffling bodies

"I think it time for you head back to your friend. I've monopolized enough of your time an' I appreciate it kiddo."

You don't judge me, do you?

*the creak of a door opening sounds*

"Why would I? We all have pasts and they help to define who we are in the moment, but they do not write who we're becoming. Who you are is not who you were. Think on that. Now go get some rest. I'm sure we can find some other work for you tomorrow before we open."

Thank you.

((+1 Presence on my next Pilot Presence Check))

*soft footfalls sound as the recorder is carried. silence drags on for a time. echoes of merriment catch and underscore the quiet footfalls. eventually, the sounds of boots upon metal ring out*

Polter?

*a moment of silence passes*

I owe you an apology. I don't want to project onto you, but I need to get something off my chest. I've been alone and guilt-ridden.

*there's a heartbeat of silence*

No, please don't interrupt. I need to speak. I should've died with everyone else on The Hanzo. I don't know why the Fates spared me, but they did. Possibly it was to make sure you didn't finish your near-infinite days in silence and solitude. I know... No, that's not right. I suspect that your time being alone was just as painful, a thousand times more painful, than the couple days I've spent. And even then, I've had you and I've underappreciated you. Thanks to our bond, we're closer than nearly anybody else can be. And that's something I'm still getting used to. Y'know?

So... I'm sorry for my words earlier. We still have some growing to do... I still have some growing to do. And I won't hold things back, just so you know, and I won't bury things. I'm hurting. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I worry I'm missing the reunion in the great-beyond. But those are pale excuses for not seeing what I've been granted. I've gotten a second chance. There is real connection with you and there's still people out there I can connect with. I need to be patient.

*there's a deep sigh mixed in with a gentle sob*

Alright... I know that was a shoddy apology, but I'm still learning things. I'm done and I won't blame you if you want to be silent.

You need to be a little kinder to yourself, Brandivere. And give yourself room to breathe and experience life as it is. There are things in this universe that we can't control and invisible hands that guide us to being the best us that we can be.

How long have you been able to do that?

Since I permitted Marcy to "peek under my hood."

*There's the sound of a metallic hand striking metal*

I know you can't feel that, but for shame, Polter. For shame. Hiding that from me for... a week?

It depends on the definition of a week to the locals. By Astral Union standards, we are a little bit under that definition.

*a deep sighing sound*

For the log, before I turn it off, did you... Earlier, were you messing with me?

Yes. Apollonian humor differs from Chiros.

*a groan*

Okay. We need to work on our communication, despite being brain-linked or whatever. Alright, I don't think whoever, even future us, needs to listen to or read any more of this. We can 'talk in private.'

((If you've enjoyed this and would like to jump into the world of Ion Heart, jump over to Parable Games))