1509/The Night the Sky Fell

The Night the Sky Fell
Date of Scene:	17 July 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Black Bolt, 1061, Molly Millions, 194

---

Black Bolt has posed:
The night the sky fell... New York is bathed in the glow of the Perseid showers. Two hours past midnight and the display is at its peak even presuming someone bothers to look up in Brooklyn. A few kids in Mutant Town set up their telescope on the roof of a flat community center, though they're more interested in arguing over some obscure game rules than paying attention. Further along, two adults slurp beer noisily from cans.

Thunderous groans from an air conditioner wheezing on its last legs to chill the building might attract attention from the ground. One of the distracted kids trying to stare into the telescope eye piece after losing interest in semantics about curbstomping a mutant war god in Heroes of Blood 4 mutters, "Huh? What's that?"

That: an orange flare around an object dropping into the atmosphere. It's not the only one. Most of the small fireballs burn out too high to make more than a spark. Not all. Those that hit the ground pepper the pavement in cinders and punch the hood of a parked car in. Bigger things tumble. The main object in question flares brightly with its heat shields torn away, and seems to be headed right into densely built-up areas.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    In a camouflaged airship above the city, taking refuge in a bank of clouds that allows it to hover there silently... a warning alarm blares loud cacophonous barks of noise that snap the lone occupant to awareness. Dr. Mid-Nite pulls himself away from the data display in his lab, pulling his hand back from the amorphous series of rods used as its control system. His brow knits as he steps quickly across the way.
    A display continues to trill the warning and he places his hand upon the display matrix there, subtle pressure against his hands offering him insight into what just caused that proximity alarm and the warning to him of potential danger to the city's denizens.
    His voice lifts, "Virgil, track largest object. Set course."
    He reaches over to grab his cowl and pulls it on, sliding it over his features even as he slaps a fist against the side door's control panel, sliding it open and allowing the air to whistle around inside the cabin as his ship takes him in that direction.

Molly Millions has posed:
    -- I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. --

    It might not be Orion's shoulder, and Molly no replicant, but somewhere, in some universe... the flaming cascade of debris falling through the atmosphere might certainly be noted so. Liquid orange reflected in the silver lenses that cover her eyes where she finds a perch on top of a building, head craned back to watch.
    She could endeavor to escape, certainly she does not have the power to stop the objects searing downfall, but she finds herself rapt witness. Ignoring the patter of smaller shards that pepper the buildings as she tracks the objects trajectory silently.

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
It doesn't take long for one ship to sense another.

A flattened silvery-violet x-shaped ship glides silently through the atmosphere, a gleaming star that lances across the heavens towards the meteor shower. Approaching the other vessel, the front of the ship shifts, opening up into twin projections. Shimmering prismatic light gathers inbetween them, motes of radiant brilliance spiralling in towards the center. It targets one of the largest rocks - not the main falling vessel - and unleashes crescent arcs of energy that cause the atmosphere around it to visibly ripple. The light crashes into the falling debris, hitting a specific vibrational fracturing point, causing it to break apart into chunks no bigger than pebbles.

Far below, the weapon fire is heard not as a boom or crack, but as a complex harmonic tone.

Black Bolt has posed:
The largest object in the vicinity moves quick. For all the friction and failing thrusters, the spacecraft still maintains far too much speed to really be good for anyone. Even with its integrity gone and trailing a flaming tail into the air, the spacecraft is comparatively large. Enough at least to have crew quarters and a cargo hold, and a broken wingspan to wipe out a row of brownstones for three blocks easy. Probably worse assuming no interference.

Shards tear away in a tumbling fall. At forty thousand feet and falling fast, its demented peregrine falcon trajectory races faster through the air. Those other pieces trailing it burn up. Some don't. One, in particular, can't thanks to the shield of particles keeping friction from burning him to a crisp. Tis frankly embarrassing to be doing this in a proper suit instead of some kind of space suit or reinforced superhero get up. The other ship's sensors probably register Blackagar Boltagon, madman skydiver, as a life form. In the ship are three others, one about the size of a breadbox.

Pebbles shower down and yet the crisped orange craft hasn't got any means to respond back to the other two in its vicinity. The twin engines pulsating weakly give a dim shudder, and one flames out in a trail of radioactive material. One of the other arguing kids on the rooftop points up there and shouts, "Look, a rainbow!"

"Shut up, Aidan. Everything is a rainbow," snaps one.

"Aidan, you're a jerk," says first Aidan to the second. Because hipster parents.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    To the side, Dr. Mid-Nite says, "ETA?"
    The ship's computer responds in a calm male electronic voice, "3 minutes."
    "Projected damage?" He asks again and the interface he holds begins to feed him information through his hand resting upon the display device. He frowns.
    "Increase acceleration. Ready triage." And as he says that his ship lights up up and down the main hall that splits the interior. A medical bay flashes into life with lights springing on and the rear entry area deploys several diagnostic beds down from the sides of the main cargo area.
    "Begin descent, highlight casualties to my mobile display." And with that he moves quickly towards the rear door of the airship, getting ready to deploy as he can to mitigate some of the casualties from the debris. If there are any, of course.

Molly Millions has posed:
There's no-one around to hear the noise that Molly makes, not on her particular dark rooftop. She spreads her hands, torn between staying put and thinking vaguely about safety. It's not going to be pretty, if it hits the ground, but the presence of another ship makes it possible that maybe not everything in a hundred clicks is going to be destroyed outright. She decides to go with that thought, emerging from the darkness to run past Aidan and Aidan and leg it down a fire escape. If one's going to die horribly... why not at least be ground zero at a ship impact?

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
This situation is quickly going to become a disaster, and that is something the pilot of the second ship cannot allow. She was dispatched to this tiny world to protect it from some great disaster, and she has no way of knowing if this is that very thing. Nevertheless, she cannot risk it. As she has sworn, so she will fullfill her duty.

The speedy sliver of crystal shoots down towards what would be the pinpoint location of the impact and stops; the hatch of the ship opens, and a small pale white woman in silvery medieval knightly armor rises out of it, hopping up onto the nose of the ship.

Staring up at the decending ship, she closes her eyes and extends out her arms. Spiracles open on her skin along her sides, neck, arms and outer thighs, as she opens her mouth, cycling atmosphere into alien organs and hollow bones. The edges of her armor light up with golden-white energy in veins like a leaf, and a sound begins to grow from the center of her being.

Rivulets of golden light rise up from the ground, from buildings, from street lights and cars, the air thick with a tangible vibration; the feeling is not disturbing or threatening, but strangely soothing. A sound like multiple orchestras in perfect pitch, lining up an aria more complex than any Earthly sound has ever produced, resonates out from within Bel Canto, future king of Harmonia.

She opens her eyes and opens her mouth, beginning the Song of Healing. The night sky lights up like dawn across several city blocks as the intensely beautiful sound becomes translated into vibration, light, energy. Aimed up at the ship, the massive wave penetrates through the entire vessel. Damaged material begins to replenish and heal itself as if time is reversing all around it. Damage to building and cars in the immediate area are also healing - wear and tear disappearing as Resonance energy pours into everything. One block away, a child sick with the flu is coming out of fever and sickness in minutes rather than days. The sheer force of the resonance pushes against the falling ship while restoring it at the same time.

Bel Canto's armor is becoming light itself, her body translucent as crystal, as she gives every scrap of energy she has.

Black Bolt has posed:
Aidan, Aidan, the two Isabellas-don't-call-me-Bellas, and one Gunther are stuck on their rooftop admiring the horrible future about to find them. Typical to teenagers, they stare into the sky. Equal parts blasé and mildly bothered, they aren't making any move to run. Instead, one of the girls points out the spinning craft. "Cool, we're being attacked by aliens. Does this mean no homework?"

The two adults drinking beer have a much less sanguine response. Their response is more along the lines of dropping an open can onto the roof and charging for cover into the building, and the other slightly less flight inspired teacher hauling the first one back. "Think of the children! Have you forgotten something?" To the frantic shake of a head, the teacher hisses, "You're a teleporter! One of the Aidans eats fire!"

The Aidans are bickering too loud to notice Molly run by at first. One of them stares. "Ooh, lookee, one of the space ladies! Hot!" Don't try to understand teenage brains. 'Tis a dirty and sticky place.

On the ground, a few peppered stones and flaming debris smash through roofs and another of those self-driving cars. A shout of pain spears into the night above the usual noise in Mutant Town. Someone else spontaneously turns into mist as a protective gesture when the space junk hits their loft apartment goes through the wall. Injuries are splattered about, though the latter not serious. The damage trail runs a mile due northwest, so the further out regions might have a few problems here and there.

Blackagar trails right through the debris field after the ship caught up in the wave, and he himself is spun into it with a golden cocoon arcing around him. He flips onto his back like he just might intend to grab onto the wing like some remora on a shark, smaller by the scale. Though this is more likely a personal craft than a transporter, by a long shot. If the pulsating engines, nuclear fueled, come back on line, that stops the radioactive spill but not necessary correcting their uplift or trajectory. All in a day's work to try to spin a falling ship around. His frown builds. But given the assistance from the other craft, and people within, he isn't quite so desperate.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    The good Doctor's ship homes in on the most likely greatest area of peripheral injuries and begins to set down with a faint hum of engines braking the airship's descent, its landing gear uncurling and letting the ship that looks like a pregnant dragonfly set down in the road, its wings rotating back. The black vehicle starts to shine with red emergency lights as the back door to the cargo bay opens and a figure in black and red emerges, moving quickly towards the nearest casualties.
    The ship, for its part, begins to announce, "Do not panic, you have been the victim of an accident. Help will be with you directly." Even as from the cargo hold a small drone rolls out, as well as two flying ones, providing multiple data feeds to gather acquisition information on injured.
    Dr. Mid-Nite kneels beside one of the people injured from the debris and begins to tend to him, "Hold on, this will be but a moment."

Molly Millions has posed:
Light and sound and a smudge of black known as Molly. Where it might cause a rational person to pause the silver-lensed woman elects to put on the speed, vaulting onto and then off of the bonnet of a car that has to stop at her sudden appearance with scarcely a break in her stride. She tries to avoid stepping into the lights, simply from the principle of not finding out the hard way that they're not friendly.
    It turns out to be fortunate for a young woman that chose to come out of her house at the wrong moment; because in a micro-second decision the lensed woman elects to stop her headlong rush to grab them out of the way of a piece of falling debris that almost immediately begins to retract along its path. Still there's a flash of a grimace for the woman before she takes off again towards the rough point of reference inherant in Bel Canto and her ship.

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
Bel Canto keeps singing.

She keeps using resonance to force the falling ship into a stop, into a hover, suspending it there until something can be done to right it. It's all she can think to do. She has never had to deal with this kind of situation before.

All around her, within the presence of that Resonance field as it spreads across several city blocks the healing and restorative effect continues. Even the pavement below is returning to a newer condition.

Black Bolt has posed:
    The poor, bewildered man doesn't even know what literally hit him. Or the rest of the chaos ensuing. When Doctor Mid-Nite rolls in, he stares with a fixed gaze. "Was that beer bad?" he rasps. "The homebrew guy... it was good. Said it was good." His quiet voice fades out in disbelief as he weakly flaps his hand.
    The woman rescued from being impaled to the ground by Molly squeals louder than any siren when plucked from harm's way. "Heeeey, what are you doing? I don't have Juice, I don't!" New street drug or some missing mutant? Time will tell.
    There shall be several pleased residents right up until tax assessment time when the improved condition heightens their property values and taxes. Nothing like slumming it right up until gentrification bites one.
    Blackagar's brow shines in a halo of pale blue light as he forces the stream of energy into a tangible arc that pushes the spaceship around. Someone stumbles up to the controls and punches in different codes, firing the wobbly machine into a circle. In atmosphere, the choices are a lot shorter, and the man in a tuxedo is practically flung from the wing to the ground as the hapless pilot orients the craft to a landing in the nearest park.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    "Yeah, it was terrible, stay off the sauce." Dr. Mid-Nite responds even as he tends to that one fallen man. He issues a few orders to the drone quickly for it to finish treatment and to sedate the patient in preparation for departure. He move son to the next most hurt person and begins treatment.
    For him it's a steady stream of movement, handling the crisis, then moving on. All, for now, in the shadow of his airship. Some of his flying drones lift into the air to filter through all the other injured, creating a triage list on the fly for the Doc to get to work.
    Hopefully the regular emergency teams will be in place soon.

Molly Millions has posed:
    Molly really doesn't stop to think about the womans words, it doesn't make a difference to her. Though once she's finally in sight of those being useful she finally slows so she can catch her breath, noting absently the figure that gets flung from the stricken vessel as she presses a hand to her side. The first drone of Dr. Mid-nite causes her brow to furrow, as if she saw something familiar out of context... but right now? Most of it is. Hence the breathless laugh she gives as she prowls among the light and busy-ness, ambling in the direction of the fallen man simply to stick her nose in where it doesn't belong.

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
With the craft turning towards the park, Bel Canto relents. She's given out of her remaining stores of energy, and has exhausted herself to near collapse. The power of the Song of Healing ends, and the glow from her ceases. She staggers on the hood of her ship, barely making it back to the cockpit, as the Voidsong locks into a midair hover. There, Bel collapses, hovering just at consciousness, enough to keep the ship aloft.

Black Bolt has posed:
    The craft landing in a park does some minor damage to the grass, which may well sprout off a radioactive Blade-Man hero for all those who live in the undergrowth. The craft wobbles and lands back on a round pad that flattens the earth. Those inside aren't human, that much is clear, but strangely pink, wearing questionably tight attire. Wherever they're headed, Earth was probably not it. The pilot stares out. The bouncing cross between a pug and an eggplant yeep-yeeps loudly while hopping about.
    If all's well that ends well, then sacrificing one's coat is probably worth it. The heat and oppressive rush of energy shielding him keep Blackagar sprawled on the sidewalk for a moment. He rolls into a crouch, and dusts off his pants. But for a bit of dirt, he is in good shape. Thank going through the healing resonance, apparently, for keeping him from being unfashionably shabby. He flicks his fingers only to find they're not smudged. A tug on his jacket, a bit of shifting his shoulders and he is back to normal. The Midnight King stares up at the Voidsong, and purposefully to one of the drones humming around. Choices, choices. The drone is hailed first by him raising his hand slightly.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    Distantly, Dr. Mid-Nite is aware of the ship and its landing. He murmurs a quiet prayer to whichever meta-person was able to stay the thing's descent. But there's still work to be done, still matters to attend to. It's going to be a good chunk of time before he'll be able to come up from air as he tends to some of the fallen.
    Nearby an ambulance rolls up on scene and the people get out, moving quickly towards a fallen person, only for a hovering drone to slip in the way and address them, << Nearest pedestrian casualty: Mild Concussion. Follow me to individual with possible internal bleeding. >> And it begins to hover away, leading the paramedics to the more injured individual.

Molly Millions has posed:
    So many options. With Bel Canto and her ship retreating, and being among the uninjured, by default it means the woman with silver lenses makes her unhurried way towards the ship, and Blackagar by extension. A tilt of her head for the suited man as she elects to head towards the ship because... well, it's certainly not every day that a ship lands in her vicinity at least. The pilot staring out gets stared back at as she shoves her hands in her pockets, trying to fathom what the hell they can be in her limited world experience.

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
The Voidsong goes into autopilot, moving towards a clearer place in the park, near the other ship. It doesn't make a sound, doesn't have any obvious types of propulsion, and gives off no heat or exhaust. Once it touches the ground, the ship folds up and compacts like a piece of paper in the steps of orgami, eventually compressing down into a flat magenta kite shape beneath its pilot.

Bel Canto lies there atop her ship, breathing heavily, forehead beaded with sweat, eyes half closed.

Black Bolt has posed:
    The ship on the ground may just be taking off at the earliest convenience. Not before the pink pilot and co-pilot, and their pet, figure out their bearings. The damage is minimized, but that doesn't tell them much. Lights flash on and off. Communication forms a collusion of squeaking and high-vibration blips, the best the machine can really do. Their intentions lack immediate hostility for nothing like a visible weapon appears. Neither does any hatch open to permit them forth, or even a projection. They stare down at the human woman in front of them. Both point. Hurried pointing and they point up at the sky again, frantic.
    Blackagar isn't moving particularly quickly. He slowly moves up the sidewalk rather than the middle of the street, for no pedestrian undertaking that manic behaviour has a hope of survival. This puts him on track to come up behind Molly, and it's only his footsteps to warn anyone of that. A conscious effort to make a sound is important.

Molly Millions has posed:
    Molly seems satisfied that the pink guys are moving at least, but with Bel Canto's ship coming down nearby, and the state of it's pilot, she turns to look for one of the drones. Twisting about fast enough she might well collide with Blackagar and raising her hands defensively,"Whoa there. Hi.. excuse me.."
    "Hey tincan!" this towards the closest of the drones she can spot, pointing in Bel's direction helpfully and with the apparent assumption that it's going to be able to understand her.

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
Bel is starting to get up, limbs trembling. She's forcing herself to recover from the massive expendature of energy. She prays in her mind to the goddess of harmony that it was all worth it, that she did what was right.

Sitting up, she catches sight of Molly pointing at her. "Are you ... are you well?" she stammers, stream of consciousness somewhat fogged from fatigue. Inside everything is urging her to get up, pay attention, dig up energy reserves she didn't know she had. There's no letting up until she can be sure the danger's assuaged.

Black Bolt has posed:
The blink from Blackagar could say volumes. He gestures to the ship he's headed to, pointing at it. Other than the faint hint of ozone around him, nothing really stands out. Save maybe his choice of a circlet, but it's not the weirdest thing a person could wear. He doesn't touch the cybernetic-enhanced woman, shifting aside to be able to let her past or go around her. The drones are another story with their freedom of motion, and he grimaces slightly when one skims around him. A black, thin band on his wrist lights up to a fingerprint pressed to it. After quickly negotiating the holographic interface, a neutral voice says, "Are you uninjured?"

Black Bolt has posed:
    As for the ship, things are fairly hard to see several feet up, but the pilot seems to be getting to the point no one is communicating back. Pug plant is held underarm. The copilot throws their hands up in the air and minces down to a pair of doors opening as the seal disengages. They - gender is fluid, given they're bald, and pink - peer out nervously.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    The drone turns and whirls a bit as it faces Molly, its small camera eye blinking as it shifted focus and it says nothing to her, but she gets its attention as it follows her for a moment, then whirrrs off towards Bel Canto.
    It only takes a moment, two, before the man in the black cape and cowl is seen moving quickly towards Bel and Molly, his steps rapid as he darts past a piece of still smouldering debris. He comes up to Molly, pauses, then moves past towards Bel Canto. "You're the one that helped with the ship?" He asks.
    And if she gives some sign of the positive he'll add 'thank you.' to his words.

Molly Millions has posed:
    "Hey." Molly offers towards Bel,"Maybe you should sit back, yes?" her attention flits back to Blackagar at the echo of the connection and the purloined bot with a tilt of her head,"Sure. Half the neighborhood is still working on concussions or worse... but those things..." she points at the bot,"seem to be in the business of helping." she steps out of Blackagar's way and for reasons she doesn't elect to explain quirks a smirk as if the whole situation is somehow hilarious to her despite the obvious tragedy.
    "You look like you're okay... the other one..." the lenses go in the direction of Bel and over the ship by coincidence, clearing her throat as she adds,"well, and it seems like we have guests."

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
Bel Canto reaches behind her and draws a broadsword.

She plunges the white metallic crystal blade into the ground, holding onto the hilt with both hands, and uses it to pull herself up to a stand, to step off the compacted Voidsong.

"The ship is safely to the ground, is it not?" she asks, unconcerned for herself. She squints magneta eyes, then reaches her left hand up to wipe sweat away from them. "Are there injured? Are there enemy forces?"

Black Bolt has posed:
    Drawing a sword brings the slightest widening of the eyes. The tall man in a suit stalks forward in preparation to face battle as need be, every inch of him broadcasting a defensive stance, the readiness to get in the way of trouble. Right up until she stabs the blade into the ground, and his manner eases back a little to that upright professionalism once again.
     Never can be too sure around these parts. He isn't bleeding anywhere, and the bruises he experiences will be mending themselves fairly quickly. A sharp nod follows; hard to say whose question he answers. May be Molly Millions' that he is fine, and Bel Canto's for the ship down safe. It could be the fact Bel had something to do with helping. The time it sucks to be mute: today.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    Stepping to stand beside Bel, Dr. Mid-Nite frowns. "Alien biology." He frowns and checks her for obvious signs of trauma, kneeling partially beside her. He tilts his head, "Tell me if there is anything I can do to aid you."
    He watches her for a moment then adds, "Yes, the injured are being tended to. I don't believe there are..." He pauses and looks over towards Blackagar, then finishes his words. "I don't believe there are any enemies here. For now."
    

Molly Millions has posed:
Molly Millions's apparently content to size up the situation first. Glowing lady, crystal sword. Guy in the suit looks like he can handle himself... then there's the pink... things. It's the last she elects to direct her attention to. No-one's exactly given her a primer on how to greet aliens, and really it's entirely possible that raising her hand in greeting is the pink-alien equivalent of 'your mother was a snowblower', but all things considered she figures it's possibly better than ignoring them completely.

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
"Good... I can... I can rest." Bel leans hard on that sword. "I am uninjured. Just ... just tired. The Song of Healing requires great amounts of resonance. I have pressed myself hard," she explains to Dr. Midnight.

Looking up at Blackagar and his response to her sword, she gives him an apologetic lowering of her head. She keeps reminding herself that on this planet, a show of blade is an act of aggression, not a gesture of respect and peacefulness.

Black Bolt has posed:
    The pink person looking around has mostly human physiology. Very long legs, joints potentially bending in very odd ways, and disproportionately small feet, but dressed in a yellow and orange foil-like cloth. They squint in the dimness of the night, the light of their ship and others notwithstanding. A hasty bit of gesturing to the sky and the woman raising her hand follows, as the alien tries to express probably flying back off. Pantomiming a launch back up could also be construed as wanting to throw a baby off over their spindly shoulder. "A ko ba ti ikure lati wa ni nibi! Ti a few Proh-xi-ma keji ina rogodo." Frantic flapping to follow. The drone, if it comes near, causes the pink alien to trill a shout of alarm and run inside.

Black Bolt has posed:
     It's clear that Blackagar understands English for all he responds by gesture. He stands aside to allow the doctor room to inspect Bel, though the Inhuman halts at the explanation for alien biology. Only a moment of surprise shows, but he carefully adjusts the luminous dials to instruct the voice projection application on what to say. "Thank you. The damage might have been severe." The voice resonance obliges him in that inflected tone that just presently has the vaguest traces of an Australian accent. "Do you know the Krylorians?"

Molly Millions has posed:
    "Right." Molly settles for as she watches the pink guys gesture. Her lenses make the dark park perfectly visible to her, but with everyone else distracted she's trying her best to communicate. May all the heavenly host have mercy on the planet,"You want to go back up." she points towards the sky. Makes sense to her.
    "Hey. You lot. Pink guys. Broken ship. I think they need a push-start, and I seem to have left my spaceship in my other pants." she elects to drawl without taking her eyes off of them.

Dr. Mid-Nite (1061) has posed:
    "Go into the ship," He gestures to the side to Bel Canto and murmurs quickly, "There's a place to rest and drink to rehydrate if needs be. We have this, we'll take care of matters." He speaks with curious calm and confidence, considering... he really has no idea what to do about this. But then again she more than did her part.
    The drone whirs off as it seems to spook the alien visitors, and under his breath Dr. Mid-Nite curses a bit, touching his waist and causing some of the drones to withdraw back towards the shin, clearing the air a bit so he can look towards Moll, Blackagar... and the aliens.
    "This really isn't my bailiwick." He says as he steps forwards, hands held up to try and show no harm meant to the Kylorians, "No, not familiar with them at all. I can barely be polite with my fellow humans. This... yeah outta my wheelhouse."

Bel Canto (194) has posed:
"I fear I am not prepared to speak in their tongue. My people are isolationist, we have been for millions of years. Interference from other worlds has only created disharmony for us," Bel Canto explains. "But it does seem that they are eager to get their ship into orbit. We might be able to find a means to do so." She holds up a hand to Dr. Mid-Nite. "I am not in need of either, but you have my gratitude for the offer. It is better that I maintain vigil here. A king does not rest until the battle is won."