Hard Targets

Beachfront Drive 

The Beachfront Walk is, in spite of it's name, a road. To the north, it slopes down steeply from the cliffs upon which the majority of the city rests, gradually lowering until it reaches sea.

Gene-engineered Terran palm trees line the sidewalks for the roads entire length, providing shade for the many pedestrians, while specialists work constantly to keep the area free of the golden-white sand that blows in from the beach.

Along the beachfront are a number of low buildings, mostly restaurants and cafes, with the occasional tourist trap that makes enough to afford the more expensive location.

Between the gaps in these buildings are small sandy walkways that allow access down to the beach itself. On the opposite side of the road, taller two and three story buildings are occupied by the less successful businesses.

Silvereye strolls along the beachfront walk from the general direction of the beach, making his way northward at a leisurely pace, paws pocketed into his jacket.

A group of five quadrapedal felinoids makes it way down along the sidewalk that flanks Beachfront Drive. The felinoids pause occasionally to sniff at the air, the trunks of palm trees, the leg of the odd startled passerby.

Duskpaw is seated next to one of the many paths leading down to the beach, leaning against a tree.

Bulobu's hovertank glides smoothly along the road and towards Schooner's Restaurant.

Silvereye strolls along in the general direction of the quadrapeds, his senses idling as he just seems to be intent on walking along the street and not talking in the sights. After a few more steps he can't help but notice the five large creatures, slowly cocking his head to one side as he stops.

The Theorians encounter a tourist family with a child. The kid's naturally curious about the felinoids. He grins and reaches out a hand to touch one of the whiskered beasts on the snout. But his father slaps the boy's hand and scoops him up as the mother yells: "Lions! Escaped from the zoo! Someone call the police!" The felinoids watch in puzzlement as the family scurries away. One sits and scratches behind a tufted ear while the others continue to survey the surroundings.

Bulobu notices the disturbance, turning his tank in the general direction of the Theorian pack and picking up a bit of speed.

Duskpaw flicks an ear at the cry of 'Lions', turning slightly to look in the direction of the alarm. He clambers to his feet, blinking at the five shapes. "I don't think those are lions..."

Silvereye's ears twitch as the mother cries 'Lion', remaining still as he slowly considers the Theorians. "What in Altheor's name?" He wonders aloud, turning slightly as Dusk speaks, then turning his attention back to the Theorians, looking like he's torn between taking a step forward and just walking the other way.

At the cry of "Lions!", quite a few people scatter. Some are shouting frantically into commlinks as they depart, calling in reports of everything from rabid cats to child maulings. The Theorian pack shifts about, moving in a small circuit around a pair of nearby palm trees, whiskers flaring as they perceive the atmosphere of unexpected panic.

Bulobu's tank floats up above the crowd level to give the G'ahnli a good view of the point where the panic began. A few bubbles escape from his snout as he murmurs something to himself in G'ahnlese, sweeping his tail flukes up and down.

Duskpaw glances at Silvereye, stepping over to stand next to the Bloodclaw, and watching the pack warily. "They don't seem agressive." He glances at the panic going around. "The zoo is nowhere near here. What are they doing here... and what are they?"

About this time, a chisel-jawed man in khakis and an up-brimmed outbacker hat saunters off the docks of the marina, blue eyes narrowed keenly as he cradles a rifle topped with a scope. He smiles broadly upon spying the five felinoids, and then makes his way toward one of the hovermarans docked at the marina - one with a nice, tall central mast.

Silvereye takes a tentative step forward, his gaze trained on the pack. "I'm not entirely sure..." He slowly shakes his head, staying right where he is. "Nah, can't be. They must've escaped from a transport or something...But hells they don't act like wild animals..."

"Can't be what," inquires Duskpaw, watching the felinoids. Making up his mind, he steps away from Silvereye, slowly approaching the pack. His arms are lightly spread at his sides as he approaches, his body language friendly - provided they can read his body language.

Bulobu pauses as he notes the man with the rifle, and then nudges his tank forwards in the direction of the pack. Duskpaw earns a quiet greeting, and the pack gets a neutrally-'toned' ~Hello.~

One of the felinoid quadrapeds drops into a crouch, watching as the Demarian and the G'ahnli approach. The other four create a sort of perimeter around the 'speaker.' Meanwhile, the khaki hunter has the rifle slung over his shoulder as he clambers up the mast of the hovermaran.

Silvereye takes a step back as he registers the movement of the pack, removing his paws from his pockets and holding them at his sides. "Altheor's Teeth they are...But...how?" The Demarian wonders aloud, answering Dusk, still with disbelief in his voice, "No way...They can't be mountain-dwellers."

Duskpaw flicks an ear at Silvereye. "Wait. Mountain dwellers? From Demaria?" He doesn't take his eyes off the pack, settling down onto his haunches as they seem to react to his presence. "But how..." He shakes his head, and shrugs, addressing his next comment to the Theorians. "Greetings."

Bulobu's tank makes a neat and fluid sideslip until it and the G'ahnli are between the man with the rifle and the pack of Theorians, awaiting their next move.

~Greetings,~ comes the mindspoken reply of the Theorian pack. ~Our arrival seems to have generated a degree of tumult and animosity.~ The hunter, by this time, has reached the crow's nest of the hovermaran mast. He crouches on the perch, unslings the rifle from around his shoulder, and then brings the weapon up to his shoulder, sighting his targets through the scope mounted on the rifle. He frowns, however, when he spies Bulobu's tank and the broad back of Duskpaw interfering with his line of sight.

Silvereye stiffens slightly as the Theorians 'speak', any doubt in his mind about what they are now obviously dispelled by his posture. He glances down at Dusk and the Theorian before the other Demarian, relaxing slightly. "What are you doing on Sivad?" He inquires, the tone of his voice carefully even.

Duskpaw grins a little bit, still blissfully unaware of the man with the rifle, although he does quirk his brow a bit at Bulobu's sudden bit of tank piloting. He inclines his muzzle slightly to the Theorian pack. "Sivadians tend to be a bit... excitable about things they are not familiar with." He lets Silvereye inquire, instead glancing around for signs of the police.

~I do not think it is animosity so much as anxiety,~ Bulobu adds, regarding the Theorians curiously. He sends a quick telepathic indication of the mast and the man perched there towards Silvereye and Duskpaw.

~Are we forbidden to be here?~ the Theorian mindspeaks, tilting its head. Two of the other pack members turn their attention toward the marina. Simultaneously, their snouts lift as their gaze climbs to regard the figure at the top of the hovermaran mast. The other two guardian creatures slowly turn their own attention to the hovermaran. As one, the four pack members rise from their crouches and begin to stalk in the direction of the docks, leaving the speaker behind. The khaki hunter watches with no small amount of discomfiture as the Theorians close brazenly on his location. But that only lasts a few moments. He re-sights the creatures through his rifle scope and places a finger on the trigger, waiting for one of them to get within range - and clear of any innocent bystanders.

"No...But..." Silvereye struggles, glancing towards the mast of the hovermaran as Bulobu sends the suggestion. The Demarian narrows his eyes, tail whipping violently behind him. "It's very unexpected." He replies to the speaker, starting to stroll slowly towards the hovermaran.

Duskpaw flicks his glance towards the man on the mast, ears flattening back a bit as he spots the gleam of the sun off the rifle. He mutters something rather vile in Demarese. "I don't think he realizes you're sentient." Since the pack has split off, he clearly assumes the Theorians know who he's talking about. "Do you have the situation under control, or would you like some help?"

Bulobu's snout works a bit once again, and he tilts forward within the confines of his tank. ~We would be glad to offer assistance, if you request it.~

DelMarenno steps out of a hovercab, unstrapping a long, sliver-shaped object a few inches taller than he is from the top of the cab. He turns towards the beach, expression eager.

~We are in no danger,~ comes the mindspoken answer from the speaker as the four guardians get within about one hundred yards of the hovermaran, atop the mast of which crouches a man with a rifle and the intent to shoot at least one, but possibly all, of the Theorians. ~Our sentience is the least of what he recognizes.~ The hunter lowers the rifle briefly, staring down at the felinoids as they stalk into positions well within range of his gun and well out of the way of any bystanders. Easy targets! And yet ... they crouch. They stare. They stare up at him. Through him. "Bloody hell..." the hunter mutters, shaking off the cobwebs and bringing the rifle back up, sighting one of the Theorians below and putting his finger on the trigger. "Put you on my wall, I will..." Sweat beads on his forehead and his jaw clenches as he struggles to squeeze the trigger. "Mounted on a nice oak plaque..." The Theorians tilt their heads slowly. The hunter's eyes bug just a little, he coughs, twitches, drops the rifle and collapses in a heap on the crow's nest. The rifle clatters on the flattened roof of the hovermaran.

Bulobu seems more than a little impressed at that, and then seems more than a little surprised at the time displayed on the side of his tank. He offers a quick farewell and excuses himself, starting off down the road again.

Silvereye stops his movement, not that he's gone far, once the Theorian speaks, watching as the Sivadian collapses with no small amount of satisfaction. He turns back towards Dusk and the speaker, looking between them. "I hope you didn't kill him...But, dumb Sivadian deserved what he got." The Demarian shrugs.

DelMarenno's eyes catch the display, and ... his jaw ... drops ... open. "Bugger," he breathes, eyes going from Silvereye to the Theorian pack before taking a few bemused steps towards the scene. "What's just happened here?"

Duskpaw watches the Sivadian topple and shakes his head slightly with a soft sigh. He flicks his tail once to the side, rising from his haunches. "The sort of man who would shoot us and put us on display were it not illegal." He glances at the Theorian nearest him. "I hope he isn't dead - it'd make things fairly unpleasant." He turns slightly at the outburst from DelMarenno. "These... visitors here dealt with someone who was being dangerous."

~We did not kill him,~ the speaker replies. ~We merely ... showed him. Many things.~ The four guardian Theorians start their slow, casual stroll back toward the speaker. ~He will recover. But he may not hunt again.~ The speaker rises to all fours. ~It is best, perhaps, if we depart.~

Silvereye bobs his snout to the Theorians in affirmation, not paying any attention to DelMarenno just yet. "But how did you get here? And...why?" The questions spill from the Demarian, his confusion and curiosity apparent.

Surfboard tucked under his armpit, DelMarenno falls silent, watching with a bemused expression.

~Aboard a spanner of stars,~ comes the mindspoken reply as the five felinoids turn and begin to stalk away. ~To learn what cannot be learned elsewhere.~

Duskpaw shakes his head slightly as he bemusedly moves to stand next to Silvereye. "They sound a bit like the otho we met." His voice is tinged with a hint of amusement as he glances at Silvereye. "Although I can see why you suggested I stay out of the mountains."

Silvereye watches the Theorians go, blinking slowly as his little Demarian brain races to keep up. "As good a reason as any, I guess." He muses to himself, turning to Dusk and pocketing his paws. "Yeah, that's the closest I've ever been to them...Very few have ever gotten that close. And that's half the reason you travel in the mountains at your own risk. It's just not a very hospitable place." He shrugs, glancing at DelMarenno.