The radio in Francis's new hover-cycle buzzes with suprise.<br/>"Ahum? Francis?" There is a pause. "Are you Matthew's friend? Or did you found the cycle by yourself? Tell me please." The voice tries to sound like it's not suspicious.<br/><br/>The same time, Mizrel tunes in to the frequency that tech using Drows would use for short-range communication.<br/>" Mazzir ,  ph'   dos   gaer   quin  ?"<br/>The strange, song-like words sound trough the background noise.<br/>(ooc:translation, since i assume Mizrel isn't trying to hide stuff from you(yet?) and i'm not sure if everybody wants to go to the translator page all the time...)<br/>"Mazzir, do you see anything more than humans and their herds?"<br/>The first voice belongs to a female, it is oozing with arrogant superiority at every word.<br/>"No madame, just animals on two feet and animals on four. They have but a wooden pallisade and some local weapon on a tower. If i am..."<br/>The second is a male's voice. And a callous killers one.<br/>"You may not challenge yourself to kill a settlement, Mazzir. Control yourself or i'm going to control you. Act like a polite traveller and just gather information of that... Oh nevermind, just ask for another like yourself. Why spill names?"<br/><br/>In the settlement, there is some movement as one of the domes is opened. An elven figure stumbles out.<br/>It's a naked Drow man with his arms encased in black steel behind his back and legs connected with three pairs of huge shackles. A steel helmet with no eyeslits is around his head. The Drow stumbles blindly over the sand and eventually just falls to lie on the sand. The fairies move around him with no interest.<br/><br/>Notice checks:<br/>Roll 1: 35.<br/>Roll 2: 94.<br/>Roll 3: 86.<br/>Roll 4: 12. Francis notices.<br/>Roll 5: 60.<br/><br/><br/>The juicer seems to be the only one to see it at the moment. Somethin black was in the sun, and well... It could just be a buzzard. Then again, it could be thousands of other things that fly.