"State your emergency."

"This is dumb!"

It's a doubtlessly a hornmother. Shrill yet soft, her high pitched voice makes you sigh on reflex.

"Elaborate."

"There's this white steam getting in the way and I can't see, why would you even want that, this is silly!"

"Are you driving the aircraft?"

She pauses "No."

"Tell your haremhorn to push the second white button at the left from the main lever."

"What does it do?"

"It prevents the systemology atrophy of the overcharge in the pulsar district of the engine vacuum capacitor."

"Uuuuuuuuuuum, do the other ones count?"

"Ignore them."

It takes some silence. But,finally, the screen in front of you lits to life. In it, a small, pale white girl dressed in a black robe, with two small black horns over her long black hair is awkardly sitting in the pilot seat. Alone. She raises her face up at a fourty five degree angle, staring right into you; her mouth gapes, right before she smashes the white button. The screen goes black. You let the silence sink for a while.

"Please let your haremhorn drive the aircraft."

She pauses; then shouts. "No! I can drive too! Go home!"

Nine out of ten, she's driving in reverse. You smirk politely, yet briefly, to the now shining blank screen in front of you. It may seem funny (it is kind of funny), but even if that hornmother doesn't crash into anything on the way (which is unlikely, since there's only water and ships out there) most who spot her are bound to either laugh or get worried. Either way, it won't look good for your race.

You get the first phone to your ear.

"How is your fuel situation?"

"It's pretty fucked up, I guess we'll last ten more minutes until hovermode."

Airships can hover with little to no fuel for a whole day to save energy resources. Yet, the main issue is the presence of Hands; beings that lurk above and below, obliterating the machines at any chance they get. Which is why no craft is stationary and there are no islands.

Of the three you usually send to these kind of tasks, only White is available for deployment, her specialities being crushing things to a pulp and medicine, often used in that order. She can manage a ship, of course. 3442-7712 is fairly close to your ship, the Greathorn, so they could make it on their own. There's however a certain policy against letting other races aboard, since this is, actually, the capital ship of the horned race. It's as ugly on the outside as it's comfy on the inside.

Hmm... It seems risky one way or the other. You make a point to have breakfast beforehand, tomorrow.

File: naaaananana.png (10 KB, 116x135)

10 KB PNG

This is a one-man test quest, so I'm just going to pay heed to what Steve has to say. You are either welcome to fuck around or give him advice, and I'd do really appreaciate if you could post pictures of musclemans doing squats.

There are no "choices" in this test in that regard. I may be lazy or bad at it, so feel free to let me know when it's to vague or I fuck up.

>>515575
I'm here.

We should send White. Letting nohorns onto the capital ship sounds like a bad idea. They'd probably never go home.

>>515586
Where to?

>>515602
To the airship lacking fuel. It sounds like an actual emergency, rather than indignity.

My bad, I should have specified.

You pick up the second phone.

"Hold in line."

"Go hom-"

It rests now on the long black table, next to the keyboard etched into it. Eyes fixed on the screen, you fingers sink the letters over and over. You pause, as a picture spawns in the screen; it's all black, except a small "PLEASE WAIT YOU TWAT" in bold red letters at the bottom right corner, under the doodle of a happy haremhorn's face. Soon, the screens shifts. Another pale, white face is staring straight at you under two huge black horns, White has a wide silver plaque covering her forehead. It has the word "W H I T E" engraved into it; it looks techy.

>>515608

"Head to 3-4-4-2-7-7-1-2... repeat, 3-4-4-2-7-7-1-2. Deliver some fuel."

"You seem certain they aren't ripping us off."

"Let them, if they want to."

She shrugs. The screen goes black as you pick up the first phone.

"White has been deployed. Stand by for delivery."

"Awesome, do we have to pay her?"

You "hmm". "Can you?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Does she like churros? It's like, the only thing we eat lately."

"White is an Arma."

"Oh, okay, we got some cash anyway."

You hang. Your fingers dance over c-h-u-r-r-o in the keyboard. Then you pick up the second phone. The line is dead, so you trace the call by looking at the small number in the black, long device the fixer calls "a phone".

You mark.

"Who?"

"Are you still driving?"

"I can, and I'm very great!"

"That is very good. Put your haremhorn in line, just be careful with the big things."

The line goes silent, but it doesn't shut down. A few moments later, you feel a small "thumb" from the other side.

"...hi?"

"There's a big, black level in the engine room, labelled "HIMO". It forced hover-mode."

You hang.

You yawn; this time fully, longly, stretching your body too much as you do. It ends, leaving your mouth gaping and your eyes stupid. That was nice.

The screen lits to life. It's White's face, she turns and walks back. You notice the three floating humans shouting and whimpers around her, before she turns to you at a distance.

She clears her throat. "The Benham X-VA hover-mode engages automatically after fourty five minutes of standing by; and I dare to guess the X-VB is not so different."

You blink at her. "I wasn't aware."

"The Link isn't fully reliable yet," she resumes, one of the guys behind her starts spinning and cursing, "so feel free to bother me with your doubts any time you see fit."

"That is very nice, thank you." Calmly, you get a balled up over your lips, wondering. "How do you know of this?"

She smiles, "I love aircrafts. What do we do with these?"

>>515762

They're refueled? Are we paid? If so, have White check on the driving hornmother. We don't want them waiting for bad things to happen. I imagine that the hornmother won't be listening to her haremhorn. Perhaps we could bribe her with churros?

>>515810

"I take they are refueled, then?"

White blinks at you. "Should I? They pretty much tried to rip us off."

Hmm...

>>515838
They want fuel, they pay. If they don't want to pay, then leave without fueling. Also, get some IDs. We'll file them under "Liars who can Go Home" in case they call again.

I get the feeling that "Go Home" is an insult for Himehorns.

>>515854
"Just make them pay. Leave if they can't. We have a rogue hornmother going reverse at full speed. Get them closer."

White sighs the sigh of an old man staring at her long-lost beloved, as the scream man rain around her into the floor. Her massive white robe, infested by black symbols that resemble a detailed map more than anything else, flickers as she gently kicks a nohorn in the arm.

Soon, one of them is facing the screen.

"Name?"

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you", you tap tap tap in the keyboard, then reach out for the far green button at thr corner. It takes pictures. When White returns you already filed "Fuck you", "Eat shit", and "Carlos" with their respective pictures under "Liars who can Go Home". White pushes the last one from the screen.

"I helped myself to their water already. Coordinates?"

Licking your lower lip, you input the hornmother's phone number into the tiny white box; it spawns a map, with a flickering green point.

"3-2-0-1-7-0-1-9 currently, heading south."

White nods and the screen goes black. You reach out for the glass of juice to your left, your hand grabbing itself over and over. Finally you turn; it isn't there.

The phone rings, again.

"State your emergency."

"It's White. You won't believe this."

The line goes silent, footsteps and whispers can be heard. A small blunt sound spawns.

"Ummmm... ummmm....!"

You open your mouth and close it, unsure of what to say. So you wait it up, grabbing your haremhorn plushie with your empty hand.

"H-help! We are being bullied!"

"Elaborate."

"They tackled us, and now they are here! Bullying!"

You take a deep breath; then take a deep sigh. Sighing has proven to be a vital part of your day to day job.

"Hand the device to the bullies."

Another blunt sound. It's you that talks.

"We deeply apologize for the inconvenience."

"Sorry, can't live on apologies!"

The voice is loud and almost childish; most likely female.

"I /can/, however, if I must, accept retribution of a sort!"

"It can be arranged. What are we speaking off?"

"3 gallons of water!"

"That is too much."

She pauses, like water backing before a tsunami."I-could-have-D-I-E-D!!!"

...While she's right, it is obviously an exxageration. Every aircraft has something known as an "EKE", which is short for "Elastic Kinetic Field" and should be "EKF", but since everyone saying that looks really dumb they just call it like that. Basically, it's a very strong invisible shield.

Oh well... what now?

>>515975
I'm not sure what's happening here. Is White with the driving hornmother? Did she hit someone, and now they're angry.

Its clear that water is a precious resource, or am I misunderstanding?

>>516002
>Is White with the driving hornmother?
Yup!
>Did she hit someone, and now they're angry.
Yup!
>Its clear that water is a precious resource, or am I misunderstanding?
Yup!

Guess I'm not hard to follow!

>>516009
OK. Get the visual thing going so we can see who we're talking to, and offer a handwritten apology from the driving hornmother.

And what, exactly are the damages? If any?

If three gallons of water is a lot, I'd rather find something more replaceable to offer

>>516002
And forgot my trip

>>515975
Tell them they can have the hornmother, if they complain say it is a very generous offer and they can take it or leave it, not negotiating.

>>516023
"Would you turn on the... ca-ahmerah?"

"No! Why would I do that?!"

You "hmm", longly.

"Please hand the device to White, I will be back with you shortly."

"No! I want to get paid for all this... sadic... abuse!"

You feel your eyebrows rising. "I do apologize for the inconvenience, but I need to assess the damages first."

"The damage is to meeee!" she whimpers, dragging that last word almost comically. "Why can't the world be a fair place? This is... molestation!"

Your eyes tilt at the word. Yet your thoughts are interrupted.

"But you know what, I'm going to make the world BETTER!" she resumes, that last word sprouted bluntly. "Three gallons or I'm reporting this... incident! Are we clear?"

"Can it be something else? Three gallons hardly seems... 'fair'."

"No!"

>>516070
"What do you mean by 'better'?"

>>516051
We're not selling our own. Bad anon!
[spoilers] that's what defectives are for [/spoiler]

>>516074
"May I ask, what does "BETTER" you mimic her tone, it comes out even louder. "implies?"

The blunting sound implies she's gently hitting herself in the head with the phone. You hear how she clears her throat. "BETTER! NICER! FAIRER! SMARTER! FUNNIER! KINDIER! HAPPIER!"

"And you will manage all that by scamming us."

"This is not a scam, this is JUSTICE!!"

...

Wait, she really believes that?

>>516105
Justice does not require 3 gallons of water. An apology letter, suitable for framing from the hornmother is appropriate."

"And are you hitting yourself with the phone?"

File: my trip.gif (1.79 MB, 500x281)

1.79 MB GIF

>>516119
damnit, that's not the right trip

>>516119
"I hardly believe justice requieres three gallons of water." you muster, resting your elbow in the desk and your chin in your open palm. "I can offer you an apology letter from the hornmother. It's more valuable than you'd think, they are rather prideful most of the time. May I ask... are you hitting yourself with the phone?"

"Why do you care?!"

You don't reply. The sound goes on for a while; and suddenly, it stops.

"FINE! I'LL REPORT YOU THEN!"

"Justice isn't-"

biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip

You redial; this time it's White that comes up.

"Should I stop the nohorn? She's heading out."

"Do you think she truly cares about justice? Three gallons seems quite the toll."

"Maybe she values herself highly? That's commandable, these da-" RIIIIIIIIIIIIING

You pick up the phone.

"State your emergency."

"Hi, I'm an Arma! What does "faux pas" mean?"

The voice is soft and clear, childish as Armas usually are. f-a-u-x-p-a-s, the entry leads nowhere in the Link.

"Hold in line." you swap phones. "What does faux pas mean?"

"Eh, it's stuck at the tip of my tongue, must be nohorns slang... Oh, the girl left. Should I pursue?"

>>516174
"sigh, no. just have the horn mother send her an apology note. i'll makes sure she gets a letter explaining how valuable that is and how to sell it in the same envelope."

so, what the hell is a himehorn? they sound adorable and I wish to know more.

File: nananana.png (73 KB, 826x905)

73 KB PNG

>>516242
This, pretty much: http://ask.fm/himehorn

Also pic related!

>>516174
What is the condition of the airships? If there's actual damage, pursue and offer a half gallon of water, otherwise, let her go, and have the driving hornmother write a nice apology.

Afterwards, have White head back to base.

Questions:
What is an Arma?
Who are our other two we can send out?
What are they doing currently?

>>516242
http://manga.clone-army.org/viewer.php?series=snax&page=0

and

http://manga.clone-army.org/viewer.php?series=himehorn&page=0

Are the comics with Himehorns. Be warned, they are not always happy and comfy.

>>516323
"How are the airships?"

"Stellar" White deadpans. "It seems her ship was standing in the way. This is a miracle." That last sentence came out with some worry.

"Maybe I have my own personal Witch with a grudge."

"I don't like that making sense at all."

"Let her go. Have the hornmother write an apology."

"What for?"

"Just do it. Head back to base, I might need you at ground zero."

"What do I do with the letter?"

"Bring it to me."

She hangs. You pick up the other phone.

"We apologize for the inconvenience, but we failed to trace the meaning of the phrase."

"It's ok, someone told me!"

"Would you mind telling me?"

"Of course!" her tone sounds cheerful "A faux pas is when you hit someone in the nose with a banana, and then dance with your butt on the floor."

You chuckle. "We appreciate your cooperation, and wish you a happy egg."

This time it's you that hangs; Armas certainly are childish. The main window of "The Link" pops up in the screen, shining white with red and blue frames, with scattered white letters. A-R-M-A.

"ARMAS are our main line of defense against both Hands and Anythings. They are made from a living being, to which organs and insides (such as muscles), with the exception of brains and nervous system, are entirely replaced. The costs and dangers of Arma manufacturing are extremelly high, and the subject loses all root memory in the process, leaving the brain blank and effectibly regressing to an infant stage of mind. Armas feel the world aroung them though GOG gas, which they can manipulate like an invisible muscle."

The article has a wide spread of options:
-Manufacturing costs and process.
-Qualities.
-First gen Armas.
-Second gen Armas.
-GOG gas.

As you stare at the row of Arma pictures (some of which are himehorns in skin-tight black clothes under odd, scattered metallic devices) you dial Leaderhorn's number on the phone. There's no answer. A small window pops over the picture of a small, happy nohorn Arma dancing, covering her face and making it seem the status screen is her head.

CAPTAIN: Deployed.
LEADERHORN: Deployed.
WHITE: Deployed.

You wait a little, staring at the screen; White status soon changes to "Stand-by". She usually forgets about it. You mark another number, this time your fingers move slow and warily.

"Yes?"

It's a soothing, yet sharp voice.

"Requesting status report on Leaderhorn and Captain."

"The are both under deployment."

She always says the "T"s and "D's" as if they here "Z"s. You wonder if it's intentional.

"I see, thank you. What are they doing?"

"I do not know."

"Thank you for you-"

biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip

You repress a sigh. It has gotten pretty quiet, all of a sudden.

>>516433
Replace our missing juice, enjoy the quiet. Quiet is good. It means there are no emergencies.

>>516468
Finally. If they haven't called, either everything is good with the world or they died on impact; one way or the other, you get to rest. Stretching over your chair, you stare at the very high, beam infested ceiling; while silver, it makes you think of skeletons and structures. You snag the empty juice glass and press it over a wide, orange button on the left side of the "U" shaped, obsidian black desktop that surrounds you. It doesn't take too long for you to hear footsteps. Once they are close enough, you spin your chair towards the food-staggered plate, looming over the white hand of a smiling blonde nohorn with glasses. Her tie and white labcoat seem like stuck to her skin, to you. She hovers the plate in front of you, crouching in the process; it doesn't even shake. Her small smile looms over the juice, the squared carrots, the puddin, the croissants, small slices of cake, cheese, grapes, and the rest of the food.

You only pick up the juice; and enjoy it in silence.

Once you are done, gasping happily, you find she's still smiling at you.

>>516558
We should take some carrots and grapes. Gotta keep fed so we don't get tired, and those things are bite size.

Ask how she's doing. We should be nice with our co-workers. We depend on them.

>>516573
Leaning forward, you grip some of the square carrots with one hand and the grapes with the other, then spin and drop the, in the left corner of the U desk. Then the puddin. The croissants. The small slices of cake, the cheese, the melon slices, the bananas... the angle gets bigger and bigger until half your desk is staggering under the food. Finally you turn at her, a bit dizzy, and notice she's holding the empty plate with both hands behind her utter black stockings.

"Hwa aheu duumming?" That last bit kind of sounded like "dummy". You chew.

"Today, a hornmother got near me to smell my hand." She giggles. "She jumped back and told me to go home. I told her this was my home now, and she told me again. I just took a step back."

"That's nice, Roomba, she even yelled at you. Usually, that's how they punish themselves for trying to trust." You take another bite. This time not too much. "She'll fall soon."

"How about you? Have you been out for a walk? It's a nice day today."

You stare at her blankly holding a melon slice with both hands against your mouth. Then swallow. "Not you too..." RIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

You smash the phone against your ear, flinching a bit.

"State your emergency."

"No emergency."

Roomba starts to turn, but she stops once you raise an open palm.

It's the soft, sharp voice. "Report to bridge at once. No excuses."

biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiip

You quietly hang the phone, then take a small leap from the chair, landing in front of Roomba. You tilt your head at her, and without a word she sits in your chair, still facing you.

She spins in place as you head to the four feet tall triangle ramp, at the top of which a black door, too tall for you, can be seen. It opens like a flower as you stand in front of it.

You glance around the pure white, wide aisle as the black door closes behind you in a blunt, muffled blast. The ceiling is very up above; clearly this was meant for nohorns. The floor, the walls, the ceiling; white, all of it. The aisle splits left or right at the end, and it's kinda hard to tell when it ends at a distance. As you take the left, the view changes abruptly; left and right, haremhorns are painting the white walls and the floors, while some drop stones by the sides. There's still plenty of room to walk between them, and they don't even bother with you. After all, Roomba is your haremhorn. The deeper you get, the more it strikingly resembles the caves; painting, torches, dirt and grass... even the air gets get, some toys scattered are around the floor. A group of hornmothers pass you by as you walk, none of them even glance as you take a sudden turn on a wall. You sigh, then take the stones out of the way; even the elevator button was hidden behind the dirt. How do they even manage to stick that in a wall? The door opens, you walk by, and it closes.

As the elevator shakes with a humming sound, someone stares intently at you from behind the mirror.

(Cont!)

>>516706
Black eyes with golden irises under even fringe, pale white skin, long hair that is strangled behind the nape, spawning a very wide, sturdy ponytail; all over a fancy, extremely detailed black robe, supported by naked clawed feet. Hands hidden by gigantic sleeves. She gives you this faint grin; she seems tired, yet only very barely. Behind her, a door opens.


-----------------------------------------------------------
Alright! I'm pausing here for today, or maybe for now. How's it going so far? Any doubts?

>>516753
This has been great fun. I look foward to continuing.

Your writing has improved since OLQ. You're much clearer in getting things across.

Don't forget to archive for future herds!