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I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Waltzing in a Mechsuit: a Sci-fi Mercenary Quest
- Thread starter I.F. Ister
- Start date
- Original
Opening the Comms
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Your team is behind you, frozen in place as you stare up at the Lancer. The most striking feature of the Lancer is its missing leg, blown off by you in battle. The Lancer is all hard angles and protrusions shaped, like much of Ad Astra's machines, like knight armor. The head, with a 'brow' jutting out into a sharp point, stares down at you.
With great trepidation, you key your communicator and broadcast on an open channel.
Heartbeats of silence stretch on forever as you wait for the Lancer's pilot to accept the ping.
Then, just as you begin to lose hope and make peace with death, the channel kicks open and a burst of static has you wincing.
"Ah, hello?" A young, male voice greets you through the static obfuscation. He sounds cautious and on edge, as if he's ready to bolt at any sign of danger. Which does make sense, as last time you fought you took his leg off and had him dead to rights. And also winning a fight while outnumbered three to one without a single pilot casualty.
"Hello." You return the greeting. He sounds really young, for an MBF pilot.
"Uh," he begins, an awkward lilt to his voice, "can you say again?"
You raise your eyebrows as whatever tension you might have felt slowly drains from your body. "Hello." You say again, trying to speak clearer.
"Hello, right?" He sighs, relieved at your confirmation. "Sorry, your accent is… kinda hard to understand."
You frown, it's not that bad, is it? It sounds okay to you and not that many people complained about it. Still, regardless, you'll try to speak clearer, if only for the sake of not pissing off the man in the MBF.
"That's fine." An awkward silence stretches between you.
"Uh, you pilot a Corsair?" The Lancer's pilot tries some small talk. "I-it's a pretty cool MBF."
"Yeah, kid, I pilot a Corsair. And yeah, it is a pretty cool MBF." You shoot a look at the man next to you, Gary, who shrugs in response. "I see you've got a Lancer. A real quick machine, that."
The kid seems to verbally brighten up. "Yeah! I was given it after we… raided…" He trails off mid sentence, growing self aware. "Uh, I recently have had an enlightening encounter and have decided to change my ways."
"I get it, kid." Not the becoming a pirate part, more the enlightening encounter side of it. You weren't always this calm and collected. "Why are you here?"
"Oh!" Realization dawns as he's reminded why he's here. "I, uh, wanted… to…" His voice softens as he drops off.
"You wanted to what?" You question, feeling vaguely exasperated with this situation as a whole.
"I, uh," he says something, but it's too quiet to hear through the static.
"Kid, you gotta speak up." You prod him.
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before launching into his speech. "I wanted to…" He breathes out and in. "I wanted to… seeifyouhadroomforanotherpilot!" And then, suddenly, a pile of word vomit splattered out from his mouth, beginning with a trickle and then all at once.
It takes you a moment to parse through the waterfall of words, but you think you've got it. "You want to join us?" The Lancer's head nods in lieu of a proper response.
"Well…"
-[ ] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon.
-[ ] Don't take him on. That past of his makes your skin itch.
~~~~~~~
POV: Jasin Smitty
The young pilot of the Lancer, Jasin Smitty, sits in his cockpit, staring at the unmanned Corsair floating outside the airlock to the Grease Rag.
That Corsair, or rather, the Corsair's pilot, is the cause of his current worries. It's still, for the most part, intact while his own Lancer is more a flying piece of scrap than a combat ready machine. If it came down to a fight, he's near certain that he'd die.
He's still not sure why he's even doing this. The risks far outweigh the potential rewards. His life is on the line here! …not that he has much other choice, what with him being left here by the Harg'marin!
He's not bitter, he's not bitter at all.
As he's musing on him totally not resenting being abandoned, the airlock door spins and begins opening, powered by the Corsair's power cell.
He can see them, the people who had gone into the ship. He can also see them freeze as they spot him. With his Lancer as non threatening as he can make it, without compromising too much on his safety, he can only hope that they choose to talk. His comms are busted, slight damage in the fight knocked out his ability to send out calls.
Then, impossibly, as his breath quickens, catching in his throat, a comm ping reaches him. He nearly misses the accept button with how shaky his hands are.
"Ah, hello?" He despises how uncertain he sounds right now, how young he must seem to be.
Moments pass and his heart sinks.
"Eyo." A man's voice, thick with an accent Jasin can't quite place, sounds through his busted comms.
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Apologies for the very short update, finals are coming up but updates should, should, continue as scheduled. Voting will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
Also, the Beltborn accent sounds vaguely Australian, with about a quarter of Scottish mixed in with a dash of American West.
With great trepidation, you key your communicator and broadcast on an open channel.
Heartbeats of silence stretch on forever as you wait for the Lancer's pilot to accept the ping.
Then, just as you begin to lose hope and make peace with death, the channel kicks open and a burst of static has you wincing.
"Ah, hello?" A young, male voice greets you through the static obfuscation. He sounds cautious and on edge, as if he's ready to bolt at any sign of danger. Which does make sense, as last time you fought you took his leg off and had him dead to rights. And also winning a fight while outnumbered three to one without a single pilot casualty.
"Hello." You return the greeting. He sounds really young, for an MBF pilot.
"Uh," he begins, an awkward lilt to his voice, "can you say again?"
You raise your eyebrows as whatever tension you might have felt slowly drains from your body. "Hello." You say again, trying to speak clearer.
"Hello, right?" He sighs, relieved at your confirmation. "Sorry, your accent is… kinda hard to understand."
You frown, it's not that bad, is it? It sounds okay to you and not that many people complained about it. Still, regardless, you'll try to speak clearer, if only for the sake of not pissing off the man in the MBF.
"That's fine." An awkward silence stretches between you.
"Uh, you pilot a Corsair?" The Lancer's pilot tries some small talk. "I-it's a pretty cool MBF."
"Yeah, kid, I pilot a Corsair. And yeah, it is a pretty cool MBF." You shoot a look at the man next to you, Gary, who shrugs in response. "I see you've got a Lancer. A real quick machine, that."
The kid seems to verbally brighten up. "Yeah! I was given it after we… raided…" He trails off mid sentence, growing self aware. "Uh, I recently have had an enlightening encounter and have decided to change my ways."
"I get it, kid." Not the becoming a pirate part, more the enlightening encounter side of it. You weren't always this calm and collected. "Why are you here?"
"Oh!" Realization dawns as he's reminded why he's here. "I, uh, wanted… to…" His voice softens as he drops off.
"You wanted to what?" You question, feeling vaguely exasperated with this situation as a whole.
"I, uh," he says something, but it's too quiet to hear through the static.
"Kid, you gotta speak up." You prod him.
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before launching into his speech. "I wanted to…" He breathes out and in. "I wanted to… seeifyouhadroomforanotherpilot!" And then, suddenly, a pile of word vomit splattered out from his mouth, beginning with a trickle and then all at once.
It takes you a moment to parse through the waterfall of words, but you think you've got it. "You want to join us?" The Lancer's head nods in lieu of a proper response.
"Well…"
-[ ] Take him on. Even if he's not the best pilot you've ever seen, and has a sketchy background, another pilot with combat experience is a boon.
-[ ] Don't take him on. That past of his makes your skin itch.
~~~~~~~
POV: Jasin Smitty
The young pilot of the Lancer, Jasin Smitty, sits in his cockpit, staring at the unmanned Corsair floating outside the airlock to the Grease Rag.
That Corsair, or rather, the Corsair's pilot, is the cause of his current worries. It's still, for the most part, intact while his own Lancer is more a flying piece of scrap than a combat ready machine. If it came down to a fight, he's near certain that he'd die.
He's still not sure why he's even doing this. The risks far outweigh the potential rewards. His life is on the line here! …not that he has much other choice, what with him being left here by the Harg'marin!
He's not bitter, he's not bitter at all.
As he's musing on him totally not resenting being abandoned, the airlock door spins and begins opening, powered by the Corsair's power cell.
He can see them, the people who had gone into the ship. He can also see them freeze as they spot him. With his Lancer as non threatening as he can make it, without compromising too much on his safety, he can only hope that they choose to talk. His comms are busted, slight damage in the fight knocked out his ability to send out calls.
Then, impossibly, as his breath quickens, catching in his throat, a comm ping reaches him. He nearly misses the accept button with how shaky his hands are.
"Ah, hello?" He despises how uncertain he sounds right now, how young he must seem to be.
Moments pass and his heart sinks.
"Eyo." A man's voice, thick with an accent Jasin can't quite place, sounds through his busted comms.
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Apologies for the very short update, finals are coming up but updates should, should, continue as scheduled. Voting will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
Also, the Beltborn accent sounds vaguely Australian, with about a quarter of Scottish mixed in with a dash of American West.
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Checking on Janna's Progress
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Well, it looks like the power's on. Good work, Janna.
You stretch, lifting your arms high over your head, popping your shoulders as you settle back into gravity. You sigh and yawn, you've had a long day, but it's not over yet.
You glance around the cluttered launch bays from the open cockpit of your Corsair as you pop the seal on a nutrient drink. In total, the Itari ship has six MBF launch bays, located in the middle of the ship in a large, open room containing maintenance scaffolding and equipment.
Currently, four of the six bays are occupied by MBFs. There's the one you're in, with your Corsair, Kellow's thrashed Thunder, which has Janna clambering all over it, that half-built Sniper, its parts stacked around it in big, somewhat organized, piles, and Smitty's Lancer, containing the nervous pilot within.
Smitty is currently… a bit apprehensive of the whole situation. After all, you had been shooting at each other half a day ago, trying earnestly to kill each other. And he was part of the crew that killed the Horn…
You'll have to help out with that. You sigh, today just keeps getting better and better.
Janna hops down from the Thunder's foot, hauling a chunk of melted armor onto the tower leaning against the wall. Clapping her hands together, she stretches and turns towards you. Yawning, she gestures for you.
With a single powerful pull, you drain the nutrient pouch and toss it into the garbage, before maneuvering down the scaffolding. You land on your feet as you hit the ground.
"You have an update for me?" You ask as you approach, stepping over a toolbox.
"Yah," Janna nods, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she leans back, "engines are fixable. ...If you count takin' the engines from the 'Orn and attachin' them to the cruiser as 'fixin' it."
The Chief Engineer pauses, blowing a strand of sea foam green hair from her face. "...what're we callin' this thing, anyways? I've just been callin' it 'the cruiser' in my head, but that's no name for a flagship."
You hmm, thinking it over before you open your mouth to answer. "I think we should…"
-[ ] "wait to name it till we've gotten back."
-[ ] "call it The Placeholder."
-[ ] Write in a name
"Alright, sounds good to me." Janna bobs her head before straightening her back and opening her eyes wide. "Oh yah!" She exclaims, pulling out a datapad and shooting you a file. "'ere's the report on the ship. I finished givin' it a once over while we were gettin' the Sniper in." She jerks her head towards the mentioned machine.
You thank her as you flip through the file. Looks to be about what you expected, though you were surprised to see shipboard missile silos. You don't have any missiles to fire through them, but they're there for the future.
Your eyes feel heavy as you scan through the document, yawning all the way. Your bed calls to you, beckoning for you to rest. "How long till," a yawn interrupts your words, "till the ship's serviceable?"
"About two to three days, if all goes well. Those parts you found on that pirate will be mighty 'andy." Janna answers as she looks you up and down. "...you should probably get some rest, boss. We fixed a room up for you. 'Ere, I'll show you to it."
You nod, nearly dead on your feet as you're half-dragged half-lead by the diminutive woman. Tiredness snuck up on you. You've had an eventful day full of heart pumping adrenaline and your body needs rest.
The door slides open to reveal your current quarters as you lean on Janna. The room, more a suite, really, is large. It's well furnished, but the thing that draws your attention is the comfortable looking bed that's more than big enough for you.
You hobble as Janna deposits you in the room, slipping out as you collapse face first on the pillow, not bothering to even take off your shoes. You were right, this is comfortable.
Sleep takes you nearly immediately after your head hits the pillow.
~~~~~~~
Tomorrow… What are you going to do tomorrow? (Choose up to three)
-[ ] Help Smitty integrate with the crew
-[ ] Modify MBFs
--[ ] Which one/s
---[ ] What part/s
-[ ] Check up on Janna and her progress
-[ ] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[ ] Check on Kellows, she how she's holding up
-[ ] See if the ship's communications are online and make a call (if you're in range of a relay, of course)
--[ ] Discount Dan
--[ ] ...Robecca Harnought, that rich heiress you rescued
--[ ] Write in
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: yeah, this is a real short one. Mostly because I don't want to pad the update with contentless drivel. Votes will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST.
You stretch, lifting your arms high over your head, popping your shoulders as you settle back into gravity. You sigh and yawn, you've had a long day, but it's not over yet.
You glance around the cluttered launch bays from the open cockpit of your Corsair as you pop the seal on a nutrient drink. In total, the Itari ship has six MBF launch bays, located in the middle of the ship in a large, open room containing maintenance scaffolding and equipment.
Currently, four of the six bays are occupied by MBFs. There's the one you're in, with your Corsair, Kellow's thrashed Thunder, which has Janna clambering all over it, that half-built Sniper, its parts stacked around it in big, somewhat organized, piles, and Smitty's Lancer, containing the nervous pilot within.
Smitty is currently… a bit apprehensive of the whole situation. After all, you had been shooting at each other half a day ago, trying earnestly to kill each other. And he was part of the crew that killed the Horn…
You'll have to help out with that. You sigh, today just keeps getting better and better.
Janna hops down from the Thunder's foot, hauling a chunk of melted armor onto the tower leaning against the wall. Clapping her hands together, she stretches and turns towards you. Yawning, she gestures for you.
With a single powerful pull, you drain the nutrient pouch and toss it into the garbage, before maneuvering down the scaffolding. You land on your feet as you hit the ground.
"You have an update for me?" You ask as you approach, stepping over a toolbox.
"Yah," Janna nods, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she leans back, "engines are fixable. ...If you count takin' the engines from the 'Orn and attachin' them to the cruiser as 'fixin' it."
The Chief Engineer pauses, blowing a strand of sea foam green hair from her face. "...what're we callin' this thing, anyways? I've just been callin' it 'the cruiser' in my head, but that's no name for a flagship."
You hmm, thinking it over before you open your mouth to answer. "I think we should…"
-[ ] "wait to name it till we've gotten back."
-[ ] "call it The Placeholder."
-[ ] Write in a name
"Alright, sounds good to me." Janna bobs her head before straightening her back and opening her eyes wide. "Oh yah!" She exclaims, pulling out a datapad and shooting you a file. "'ere's the report on the ship. I finished givin' it a once over while we were gettin' the Sniper in." She jerks her head towards the mentioned machine.
You thank her as you flip through the file. Looks to be about what you expected, though you were surprised to see shipboard missile silos. You don't have any missiles to fire through them, but they're there for the future.
Your eyes feel heavy as you scan through the document, yawning all the way. Your bed calls to you, beckoning for you to rest. "How long till," a yawn interrupts your words, "till the ship's serviceable?"
"About two to three days, if all goes well. Those parts you found on that pirate will be mighty 'andy." Janna answers as she looks you up and down. "...you should probably get some rest, boss. We fixed a room up for you. 'Ere, I'll show you to it."
You nod, nearly dead on your feet as you're half-dragged half-lead by the diminutive woman. Tiredness snuck up on you. You've had an eventful day full of heart pumping adrenaline and your body needs rest.
The door slides open to reveal your current quarters as you lean on Janna. The room, more a suite, really, is large. It's well furnished, but the thing that draws your attention is the comfortable looking bed that's more than big enough for you.
You hobble as Janna deposits you in the room, slipping out as you collapse face first on the pillow, not bothering to even take off your shoes. You were right, this is comfortable.
Sleep takes you nearly immediately after your head hits the pillow.
~~~~~~~
Tomorrow… What are you going to do tomorrow? (Choose up to three)
-[ ] Help Smitty integrate with the crew
-[ ] Modify MBFs
--[ ] Which one/s
---[ ] What part/s
-[ ] Check up on Janna and her progress
-[ ] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[ ] Check on Kellows, she how she's holding up
-[ ] See if the ship's communications are online and make a call (if you're in range of a relay, of course)
--[ ] Discount Dan
--[ ] ...Robecca Harnought, that rich heiress you rescued
--[ ] Write in
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: yeah, this is a real short one. Mostly because I don't want to pad the update with contentless drivel. Votes will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST.
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Standoff-ish Aftermath, Mental Check-up, and… Calling… Her
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
You enter the makeshift mess hall in the cargo bay, as the actual mess hall was now one with the stars thanks to a shell, to see the aftermath of a terse standoff. On one side of the room was Smitty and two security officers, Anders and Gary, seemingly protecting him. And on the other side of the room are a selection of former crew members of the David's Horn, about seven in total.
Currently, the crew members are sitting off to the side, in a group at a table. They occasionally shoot dirty looks to Smitty and the sec crew, but nothing more than that, right now, at least. There's some evidence of an altercation, with some weird marks covering Smitty, likely from the mess hall's food. One of the crewmembers is sporting a bruise on the cheek, likely from one of the sec crew breaking it up.
Some of the crew look up at you as you enter, something akin to respect in their eyes. Lately, some of the former members of the David's Horn's crew have been looking towards you for guidance and leadership with most of their officers dead and their captain in a medical coma. They'll probably follow your lead in things, though you don't have any actual authority over them. The only person here you do have actual authority over is Smitty, as he's one of your pilots, and the source of the current conflict.
You're standing in the doorway to the hall, looking in at the current situation. You've got a few moments to make a decision.
What's your first move?
-[ ] Assess the situation, figure out what happened here first
-[ ] It's obvious what happened here, the crew members got angry and decided to take it out on Smitty. Punish them for it.
-[ ] Smitty shouldn't have antagonized them, because why else would they have done that? Punish him for it.
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
You find Margarat Kellows in the launch bays, sitting in front of her fucked up Thunder and leaning against a crate. Janna finished stripping it last 'night', or at least as close to night as you can get in a place like this, and is currently directing the surviving engineers of the Horn in fixing up the engines.
Margarat… isn't looking good. She's got an open container sitting on the crate beside her, it has a strong, alcoholic scent to it. The pilot's eyes are sunken, with heavy bags under them and it looks like she hasn't had any food recently. Her cheeks look stained with tears and a soft-looking, light red blanket sits in her lap, her fists bunching it up. Her legs, half covered by the blanket, are splayed out in front of her.
Kellows doesn't seem to acknowledge you on approach, though she speaks up when you come within a couple steps. "Hey, Sam." Her voice is missing its characteristic buzz and fervor. She just sounds… tired.
"What's going on?" You ask, sliding down next to her, racking your memories to try and figure out what's happening. You don't bother with 'are you okay' or things like that, it's obvious that she's not.
She shrugs, going back to staring at the machine. You nod and sit there in amicable silence for who knows how long, until the pilot next to you finally speaks.
"I'm…" Her voice catches in her throat, growing hoarse and shaky. "I'm a fuck-up."
"You're not a fuck-up."
"I am!" She turns on you, eyes red and tears threatening to spill. "If I hadn't missed that Footsoldier, then you wouldn't have had to turn back, and you'd have been able to save the ship! …a-and K-ka-mi-milla." She struggles to get Captain Kamilla's name out.
You're not sure what to do, but you can't just leave her there, can you?
-[ ] "We'll get them back for this, I promise." (Begins the quest: WLW, Women Loving Wrath)
-[ ] Don't say anything, just sit there (Denies the quest: WLW, Women Loving Wrath)
Quest: WLW, Women Loving Wrath
Those pirate bastards destroyed the David's Horn and hurt Captain Kamilla, they must pay for this. One of the pirate ships was disabled in the fight, but the other is still out there. Track it down and murder it
Rewards: +15 Renown, Margarat's eternal loyalty, and +1 to acquiring Trait: Shipper (0/5). Plus whatever loot you gain from killing the pirates.
~~~~~~~
(Are you in range of a relay? Coin flip: Heads, yes, yes you are in range)
You squint at the comms station in the bridge of the Itari Cruiser, one hand holding the receiver to your ear and the other hovering over the dialing buttons. You really, really didn't want to have to do this, ever, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
You press the first sequence of numbers.
If you were honest with yourself, you'd been half-hoping that you weren't in range of a relay. As that would've given you the ability to excuse yourself from making the call. But no, the fates aren't that kind, not at all.
You press the second sequence of numbers.
Dread slowly rises within you, memories of the last time you'd talked to… her… racing through your mind. Your shoulders shake as a shudder creeps up your spine.
You press the third sequence of numbers.
You brush it off as best you can, though your fingers still quiver as they press the keys. You've got nothing to fear from her, she's just a little… odd. But even as you try to convince yourself of this, you know, deep down, that it's nothing more than a lie.
You press the fourth sequence of numbers.
You find yourself breathing quick and shallow breaths, which you quickly quell. It wouldn't be good to show weakness in front of a predator like her.
You press the fifth and final sequence of numbers, barely able to keep your finger from shaking too much to press the last key.
There's half-a-second of dial noise before it's immediately picked up by, presumably, her.
"Sahm Vonkarthah!" And there's her voice, so elegant and sweet and deceptive, like the she-devil that she is. That drawl of hers still haunts your dreams, speaking words of 'marriage' and 'children'. You suppress a shudder as she continues. "To what do Aah owe tha pleasuh?"
"Hello, Miss Harnought." You return the greeting, trying to be as professional as possible. "I'll cut right to the chase, I'm in trouble and I need your he-" You can't seem to get it out. "Your heeeh." Come on, you bastard! Just spit it out! "Your heee-"
"Mai help?" The she-devil correctly guesses your request. "Wai, Aah'd be honah'd to do so! Ahll Aah need is your location and Aah'll send a task force ovuh right quick."
Now's your chance! If you deny her right now, you might be able to avoid dealing with her again!
-[ ] Yes! Take the opportunity and escape!
-[ ] …No. As much as it might pain you, you need that help. That escaped pirate ship still knows your location and is sure to come back with more friends. Besides, you escaped her clutches once, surely you can do it again.
~~~~~~~
POV: Robecca Harnought
The grin that split across Robecca Harnought's face is positively glowing. Her blonde ringlets spilled along her head as she twirled around her room, hugging a picture frame to her chest. Unbecoming giggles more fitting to see coming from a young school girl rather than the grown woman she is spilled from her mouth.
She came to a stop before her pink and white, canopy bed, throwing herself back first onto the overflowing sheets, the picture tight against her dress as it flows behind her. She lifts the frame, her hair splayed out in a mock-halo, and runs a finger down the side of the face displayed in the picture, His face.
Sam Vonkartha… What a man! She giggles, thoughts racing as fast as a Neon Headlights' racer. Ever since that day, exactly three months, five days, seven hours, and… thirteen minutes ago when He rescued her from those dastardly marauders.
The young heiress can feel her heart skip a beat just thinking about it. How brave He was fighting them off! Such a romantic man! The silly grin on her face widens as she realizes that now it's her chance to save Him! What a romantic opportunity!
With one last look at the picture, which she had gone to great lengths to get, Robecca leapt from her bed. There aren't very many pictures of Sam Vonkartha out there, which means she had to take alternative methods of procuring them. By which, of course, she means that she had her father's men hack into security networks and send her the footage from the cameras. It wasn't easy, but it had to be done!
Her father approved of her choice in men, after all, He is the grandson of the one and only Wilfus Vonkartha and, even if he comes from the Arthus branch, that means something.
Robecca opened her walk-in closet and began sorting through the selection, stopping as she came across a sealed bag. With trembling fingers, she unsealed it, revealing the jacket inside. Immediately, she felt slightly heady as the scent hit her and slipped inside her nose. The smell was of Sam and the scent He left when he gave her his jacket. She frowned as she noted that it was, once again, missing something, something she couldn't quite place.
A consequence of a maid mistaking it for dirty clothing, as if anything He wore could ever be considered dirty, and sending it off to be washed. The maid needed to be punished and what Robecca had done to her… well, it was safe to say that something like that would never ever happen again.
In an attempt to regain the smell, she had her father's men chemically synthesize it. It was chemically perfect! …yet something was still missing, something completely incomprehensible to all but her own mind. There's only one solution here, she needs to get it from the source!
And, wouldn't you know it, an opportunity to do so just came up! What good fortune!
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: I forgot to give you the information for the ship yesterday, so I put it in the White Company's page, along with updating it with Smitty and the new MBFs. Robecca has an accent reminiscent of the American South's upper class. Voting will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST and thank you for voting.
Currently, the crew members are sitting off to the side, in a group at a table. They occasionally shoot dirty looks to Smitty and the sec crew, but nothing more than that, right now, at least. There's some evidence of an altercation, with some weird marks covering Smitty, likely from the mess hall's food. One of the crewmembers is sporting a bruise on the cheek, likely from one of the sec crew breaking it up.
Some of the crew look up at you as you enter, something akin to respect in their eyes. Lately, some of the former members of the David's Horn's crew have been looking towards you for guidance and leadership with most of their officers dead and their captain in a medical coma. They'll probably follow your lead in things, though you don't have any actual authority over them. The only person here you do have actual authority over is Smitty, as he's one of your pilots, and the source of the current conflict.
You're standing in the doorway to the hall, looking in at the current situation. You've got a few moments to make a decision.
What's your first move?
-[ ] Assess the situation, figure out what happened here first
-[ ] It's obvious what happened here, the crew members got angry and decided to take it out on Smitty. Punish them for it.
-[ ] Smitty shouldn't have antagonized them, because why else would they have done that? Punish him for it.
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
You find Margarat Kellows in the launch bays, sitting in front of her fucked up Thunder and leaning against a crate. Janna finished stripping it last 'night', or at least as close to night as you can get in a place like this, and is currently directing the surviving engineers of the Horn in fixing up the engines.
Margarat… isn't looking good. She's got an open container sitting on the crate beside her, it has a strong, alcoholic scent to it. The pilot's eyes are sunken, with heavy bags under them and it looks like she hasn't had any food recently. Her cheeks look stained with tears and a soft-looking, light red blanket sits in her lap, her fists bunching it up. Her legs, half covered by the blanket, are splayed out in front of her.
Kellows doesn't seem to acknowledge you on approach, though she speaks up when you come within a couple steps. "Hey, Sam." Her voice is missing its characteristic buzz and fervor. She just sounds… tired.
"What's going on?" You ask, sliding down next to her, racking your memories to try and figure out what's happening. You don't bother with 'are you okay' or things like that, it's obvious that she's not.
She shrugs, going back to staring at the machine. You nod and sit there in amicable silence for who knows how long, until the pilot next to you finally speaks.
"I'm…" Her voice catches in her throat, growing hoarse and shaky. "I'm a fuck-up."
"You're not a fuck-up."
"I am!" She turns on you, eyes red and tears threatening to spill. "If I hadn't missed that Footsoldier, then you wouldn't have had to turn back, and you'd have been able to save the ship! …a-and K-ka-mi-milla." She struggles to get Captain Kamilla's name out.
You're not sure what to do, but you can't just leave her there, can you?
-[ ] "We'll get them back for this, I promise." (Begins the quest: WLW, Women Loving Wrath)
-[ ] Don't say anything, just sit there (Denies the quest: WLW, Women Loving Wrath)
Quest: WLW, Women Loving Wrath
Those pirate bastards destroyed the David's Horn and hurt Captain Kamilla, they must pay for this. One of the pirate ships was disabled in the fight, but the other is still out there. Track it down and murder it
Rewards: +15 Renown, Margarat's eternal loyalty, and +1 to acquiring Trait: Shipper (0/5). Plus whatever loot you gain from killing the pirates.
~~~~~~~
(Are you in range of a relay? Coin flip: Heads, yes, yes you are in range)
You squint at the comms station in the bridge of the Itari Cruiser, one hand holding the receiver to your ear and the other hovering over the dialing buttons. You really, really didn't want to have to do this, ever, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
You press the first sequence of numbers.
If you were honest with yourself, you'd been half-hoping that you weren't in range of a relay. As that would've given you the ability to excuse yourself from making the call. But no, the fates aren't that kind, not at all.
You press the second sequence of numbers.
Dread slowly rises within you, memories of the last time you'd talked to… her… racing through your mind. Your shoulders shake as a shudder creeps up your spine.
You press the third sequence of numbers.
You brush it off as best you can, though your fingers still quiver as they press the keys. You've got nothing to fear from her, she's just a little… odd. But even as you try to convince yourself of this, you know, deep down, that it's nothing more than a lie.
You press the fourth sequence of numbers.
You find yourself breathing quick and shallow breaths, which you quickly quell. It wouldn't be good to show weakness in front of a predator like her.
You press the fifth and final sequence of numbers, barely able to keep your finger from shaking too much to press the last key.
There's half-a-second of dial noise before it's immediately picked up by, presumably, her.
"Sahm Vonkarthah!" And there's her voice, so elegant and sweet and deceptive, like the she-devil that she is. That drawl of hers still haunts your dreams, speaking words of 'marriage' and 'children'. You suppress a shudder as she continues. "To what do Aah owe tha pleasuh?"
"Hello, Miss Harnought." You return the greeting, trying to be as professional as possible. "I'll cut right to the chase, I'm in trouble and I need your he-" You can't seem to get it out. "Your heeeh." Come on, you bastard! Just spit it out! "Your heee-"
"Mai help?" The she-devil correctly guesses your request. "Wai, Aah'd be honah'd to do so! Ahll Aah need is your location and Aah'll send a task force ovuh right quick."
Now's your chance! If you deny her right now, you might be able to avoid dealing with her again!
-[ ] Yes! Take the opportunity and escape!
-[ ] …No. As much as it might pain you, you need that help. That escaped pirate ship still knows your location and is sure to come back with more friends. Besides, you escaped her clutches once, surely you can do it again.
~~~~~~~
POV: Robecca Harnought
The grin that split across Robecca Harnought's face is positively glowing. Her blonde ringlets spilled along her head as she twirled around her room, hugging a picture frame to her chest. Unbecoming giggles more fitting to see coming from a young school girl rather than the grown woman she is spilled from her mouth.
She came to a stop before her pink and white, canopy bed, throwing herself back first onto the overflowing sheets, the picture tight against her dress as it flows behind her. She lifts the frame, her hair splayed out in a mock-halo, and runs a finger down the side of the face displayed in the picture, His face.
Sam Vonkartha… What a man! She giggles, thoughts racing as fast as a Neon Headlights' racer. Ever since that day, exactly three months, five days, seven hours, and… thirteen minutes ago when He rescued her from those dastardly marauders.
The young heiress can feel her heart skip a beat just thinking about it. How brave He was fighting them off! Such a romantic man! The silly grin on her face widens as she realizes that now it's her chance to save Him! What a romantic opportunity!
With one last look at the picture, which she had gone to great lengths to get, Robecca leapt from her bed. There aren't very many pictures of Sam Vonkartha out there, which means she had to take alternative methods of procuring them. By which, of course, she means that she had her father's men hack into security networks and send her the footage from the cameras. It wasn't easy, but it had to be done!
Her father approved of her choice in men, after all, He is the grandson of the one and only Wilfus Vonkartha and, even if he comes from the Arthus branch, that means something.
Robecca opened her walk-in closet and began sorting through the selection, stopping as she came across a sealed bag. With trembling fingers, she unsealed it, revealing the jacket inside. Immediately, she felt slightly heady as the scent hit her and slipped inside her nose. The smell was of Sam and the scent He left when he gave her his jacket. She frowned as she noted that it was, once again, missing something, something she couldn't quite place.
A consequence of a maid mistaking it for dirty clothing, as if anything He wore could ever be considered dirty, and sending it off to be washed. The maid needed to be punished and what Robecca had done to her… well, it was safe to say that something like that would never ever happen again.
In an attempt to regain the smell, she had her father's men chemically synthesize it. It was chemically perfect! …yet something was still missing, something completely incomprehensible to all but her own mind. There's only one solution here, she needs to get it from the source!
And, wouldn't you know it, an opportunity to do so just came up! What good fortune!
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: I forgot to give you the information for the ship yesterday, so I put it in the White Company's page, along with updating it with Smitty and the new MBFs. Robecca has an accent reminiscent of the American South's upper class. Voting will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST and thank you for voting.
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Assessing the Situation, Promises Made, and Making Deals with the She-Devil
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Your eyes drift across the makeshift mess hall as you approach Smitty first.
He looks a lot like you imagined him, young, with what appears to be stubble growing on his face. Glasses and a head of pale hair complete the picture of a lanky young adult. Pieces of food, nutrient paste mostly, grey and gravy-like, with chunky cubes to give it some texture. Looks like the crew didn't want to waste the good stuff on him.
"What happened here?" You ask no one in particular, asking it to the group as a whole.
"I walked in; they didn't recognize me and put two and two together." Smitty shrugs after a moment of internal translation, picking at the tray of food sitting on the table. "Not that I blame 'em, I did have a hand in the destruction of their home."
"Put two and two together?" You think you know what he means, but it's better to confirm now than regret making a knee-jerk reaction later.
"You come back with an MBF that was spotted on the enemy side and now there's suddenly a new face aboard? It's not that hard to figure out." He replies dryly, taking a bite from his meal.
"Just being thorough." You respond, sitting down across from him. "Anything else happen?" You nod towards the bruised guy. "Like how he got that bruise?"
Smitty nods, swallowing the mouthful. "I ignored them when they started doing stuff, which pissed them off. They came over and started trying to push me around. One took a swing at me, I ducked, and the guards," he flicks a finger at Anders and Gary, a thankful look in his eyes, "came in and broke it up, giving the guy a nasty smack in the process."
You nod, mentally noting it down. "Anything else happen?"
He shakes his head, "No."
And with that, you thank him for his time and hoist yourself to your feet. You approach the crew members, all seven of them, and stop a foot or two away. They eye you with slight suspicion.
"Can you tell me what happened here?" You nod towards Smitty, some of them giving him rather hateful glances.
"Yeah." The bruised man, a big, burly blue collar man, pipes up. He doesn't look very pleased to see you. "Yeah I'll tell you what happened. You," he points a meaty finger at you, "brought a fucking pirate on board, you know, the people we hired you to protect us from!?" There's general murmurs of assent when he says that.
Well, shit. What do you do or say in response?
-[ ] "I did what I had to do to protect you. Another pilot with a combat capable machine and combat experience will be a godsend when those pirates inevitably come back."
-[ ] "Who I recruit into my company is of no business to you."
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
"We'll get them back for this, I promise." You swear to the pilot sitting next to you as she sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "We'll track each and every last one down and cut them down."
Margarat's quiet, for the most part, though you think you struck a chord in her, if the cruel glint in her eye is anything to go by. A silence falls between you, as Margarat slowly pulls herself together.
Eventually, after who knows how long later, she opens her mouth. "Yeah, yeah I think that that's a good idea." The expression on her face is a dark one, but one that seems fitting for the topic matter at hand.
You stand up first, hauling yourself to your feet and extending a hand down to help up Margarat. She takes it and you pull her up. "Are you feeling better?"
The pilot gives a sort of half-nod. "I will be, once we put those fucking bastards in the ground and Kamilla's awake again."
You pat her on the shoulder. "There yah go."
~~~~~~~
You stare hard at the sound wave visualizer, thinking over Miss Harnought's offer and coming to a conclusion you really don't like.
With a subvocal sigh, you grit your teeth and steel your spine. Whether you like it or not, those pirates will be back, likely sooner rather than later. And when they get here, you'd much rather have a Corporate Kill Team watching your back than nothing at all, even if you have to pay a steep price to get it.
But hey, you slipped away from her grasp once, surely you can do it again.
"Sure, that works for me." You hear what sounds like high-pitched squeals coming from the other end of the call as you send your location over to her. You feel as if you might have made something of a mistake, but it's not like you can do anything about it now. "Just, you know this doesn't mean I'll marry you or anything, right?"
"Of course, sugah. Aah undahstand." Miss Harnought drawls out over the communicator. You get the feeling she doesn't really understand, but what can you do? "But what kinda team do yah want, Aah've got a whole load o' different units." You receive a document listing a number of different teams.
You think about it, looking the sheet over, before opening your mouth to answer. "Can you send…"
-[ ] "...a Light Escort Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyer Escorts with 6 MBFs. 1 Favor owed to Haagricorp)
-[ ] "...a Heavy Escort Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyer Escorts with 6 MBFs and 1 Fightercraft Holder with 2 MBFs and 1 Fightercraft. 2 Favors owed to Haagricorp)
-[ ] "...a Light Raider Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyers with 8 MBFs and Cruiser-Carrier with 4 MBFs and a Fightercraft. 4 Favors owed to Haagricorp)
-[ ] "...a Defender Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyers with 8 MBFs, a Cruiser with 8 MBFs, and a Battlecruiser with 16 MBFs and 2 Fightercraft. 7 Favors owed to Haagricorp)
"Sure thang, sugah!" She happily responds as you hear the click-clack of something on the other end of the communicator. You'd thought about asking for a Combat Unit, but that might be pushing your luck a bit too much. "They'll be there in at least a day."
After getting confirmation, you quickly hang up on her. You'd rather not have to listen to her ramble on and on about… well, the things she likes to talk to you about.
Releasing the iron-handed hold you had on your body, you feel unrestrained and unrestricted shudders and shakes dance up and down your spine. Cringing from the feeling, you slump off to go take a shower.
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Alrighty, voting will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
Also, I started another Quest, so if you want to participate in that you can!
In Service: A Science Fantasy Special Agent Quest
Q: What are Favors?
A: Essentially, a thing you can spend to get things from people without having to give them money or do things for them. Having people owe favors to you is a very good thing, but owing favors to other people is very bad. The more favors you owe somebody, the more they can ask of you for free. Mercenaries live and die on their reputation and doing people favors is a good way to raise that, however, refusing to do things when people call in favors will result in a hefty reputation loss.
He looks a lot like you imagined him, young, with what appears to be stubble growing on his face. Glasses and a head of pale hair complete the picture of a lanky young adult. Pieces of food, nutrient paste mostly, grey and gravy-like, with chunky cubes to give it some texture. Looks like the crew didn't want to waste the good stuff on him.
"What happened here?" You ask no one in particular, asking it to the group as a whole.
"I walked in; they didn't recognize me and put two and two together." Smitty shrugs after a moment of internal translation, picking at the tray of food sitting on the table. "Not that I blame 'em, I did have a hand in the destruction of their home."
"Put two and two together?" You think you know what he means, but it's better to confirm now than regret making a knee-jerk reaction later.
"You come back with an MBF that was spotted on the enemy side and now there's suddenly a new face aboard? It's not that hard to figure out." He replies dryly, taking a bite from his meal.
"Just being thorough." You respond, sitting down across from him. "Anything else happen?" You nod towards the bruised guy. "Like how he got that bruise?"
Smitty nods, swallowing the mouthful. "I ignored them when they started doing stuff, which pissed them off. They came over and started trying to push me around. One took a swing at me, I ducked, and the guards," he flicks a finger at Anders and Gary, a thankful look in his eyes, "came in and broke it up, giving the guy a nasty smack in the process."
You nod, mentally noting it down. "Anything else happen?"
He shakes his head, "No."
And with that, you thank him for his time and hoist yourself to your feet. You approach the crew members, all seven of them, and stop a foot or two away. They eye you with slight suspicion.
"Can you tell me what happened here?" You nod towards Smitty, some of them giving him rather hateful glances.
"Yeah." The bruised man, a big, burly blue collar man, pipes up. He doesn't look very pleased to see you. "Yeah I'll tell you what happened. You," he points a meaty finger at you, "brought a fucking pirate on board, you know, the people we hired you to protect us from!?" There's general murmurs of assent when he says that.
Well, shit. What do you do or say in response?
-[ ] "I did what I had to do to protect you. Another pilot with a combat capable machine and combat experience will be a godsend when those pirates inevitably come back."
-[ ] "Who I recruit into my company is of no business to you."
-[ ] Write in
~~~~~~~
"We'll get them back for this, I promise." You swear to the pilot sitting next to you as she sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "We'll track each and every last one down and cut them down."
Margarat's quiet, for the most part, though you think you struck a chord in her, if the cruel glint in her eye is anything to go by. A silence falls between you, as Margarat slowly pulls herself together.
Eventually, after who knows how long later, she opens her mouth. "Yeah, yeah I think that that's a good idea." The expression on her face is a dark one, but one that seems fitting for the topic matter at hand.
You stand up first, hauling yourself to your feet and extending a hand down to help up Margarat. She takes it and you pull her up. "Are you feeling better?"
The pilot gives a sort of half-nod. "I will be, once we put those fucking bastards in the ground and Kamilla's awake again."
You pat her on the shoulder. "There yah go."
~~~~~~~
You stare hard at the sound wave visualizer, thinking over Miss Harnought's offer and coming to a conclusion you really don't like.
With a subvocal sigh, you grit your teeth and steel your spine. Whether you like it or not, those pirates will be back, likely sooner rather than later. And when they get here, you'd much rather have a Corporate Kill Team watching your back than nothing at all, even if you have to pay a steep price to get it.
But hey, you slipped away from her grasp once, surely you can do it again.
"Sure, that works for me." You hear what sounds like high-pitched squeals coming from the other end of the call as you send your location over to her. You feel as if you might have made something of a mistake, but it's not like you can do anything about it now. "Just, you know this doesn't mean I'll marry you or anything, right?"
"Of course, sugah. Aah undahstand." Miss Harnought drawls out over the communicator. You get the feeling she doesn't really understand, but what can you do? "But what kinda team do yah want, Aah've got a whole load o' different units." You receive a document listing a number of different teams.
You think about it, looking the sheet over, before opening your mouth to answer. "Can you send…"
-[ ] "...a Light Escort Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyer Escorts with 6 MBFs. 1 Favor owed to Haagricorp)
-[ ] "...a Heavy Escort Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyer Escorts with 6 MBFs and 1 Fightercraft Holder with 2 MBFs and 1 Fightercraft. 2 Favors owed to Haagricorp)
-[ ] "...a Light Raider Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyers with 8 MBFs and Cruiser-Carrier with 4 MBFs and a Fightercraft. 4 Favors owed to Haagricorp)
-[ ] "...a Defender Unit?" (Sends 2 Destroyers with 8 MBFs, a Cruiser with 8 MBFs, and a Battlecruiser with 16 MBFs and 2 Fightercraft. 7 Favors owed to Haagricorp)
"Sure thang, sugah!" She happily responds as you hear the click-clack of something on the other end of the communicator. You'd thought about asking for a Combat Unit, but that might be pushing your luck a bit too much. "They'll be there in at least a day."
After getting confirmation, you quickly hang up on her. You'd rather not have to listen to her ramble on and on about… well, the things she likes to talk to you about.
Releasing the iron-handed hold you had on your body, you feel unrestrained and unrestricted shudders and shakes dance up and down your spine. Cringing from the feeling, you slump off to go take a shower.
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Alrighty, voting will be called tomorrow at 4 PM CST.
Also, I started another Quest, so if you want to participate in that you can!
In Service: A Science Fantasy Special Agent Quest
Q: What are Favors?
A: Essentially, a thing you can spend to get things from people without having to give them money or do things for them. Having people owe favors to you is a very good thing, but owing favors to other people is very bad. The more favors you owe somebody, the more they can ask of you for free. Mercenaries live and die on their reputation and doing people favors is a good way to raise that, however, refusing to do things when people call in favors will result in a hefty reputation loss.
Last edited:
Vote closed
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
Persuading the Crew
I.F. Ister
Fortifying The Thread
- Pronouns
- He/They
"He caught us at the pirate ship." You begin, voice low as you lean on the table. "Coulda killed us and've had a decent shake at finishing the rest of you off," you pierce him with a stare as you point at Smitty, eating at his table, "but instead, he let us live."
You rise from the table, the crew staring up at you with eyes wide. "He was left to die, just like us." You sweep your gaze across the captivated faces, a shallow laugh slipping through your lips. "People tend to rethink things, when stranded in space. He wants to even the scores and I intend to give him that chance."
"Don't worry." You cast one last look at Smitty. You don't really think he'll turn on you, but they don't know that. A dark tone enters your voice as it's lowered even further. "If he tries something, anything, stupid, I'll take care of him."
(Charm Roll DC 60, 90: 93+10(They Respect You)+10(A Good Speech)=113, double success and +1 XP to Charm)
The ringleader speaks up first, breaking the silence that had formed. "W-we'll hold you to that, Marshal." His voice is a tad bit shaky as he looks towards Smitty, expression full of new understanding.
Marshal, huh? You give a soft grin. That's not a bad callsign, that's not a bad callsign at all.
You step away from the tables and grab a tray, taking a seat across from Smitty. He looks up as you sit down, an unasked question clear on his face.
"Yeah," you nod, scooping up a spoonful of food, "I reckon I smoothed things over. Just, you know, probably shouldn't make jokes or whatever about it."
He laughs, "Thanks, boss. Having to watch my back all the time would suck. Now I just need to watch it the normal amount."
You nod as you come around to why you came here in the first place, well, besides needing to eat, that is. You need information on what you're going to be up against in the near future and you've got a source right in front of you.
"Smitty," you start, not wasting time, "what sorta enemies are we looking at here? Numbers, commanders, machines, things like that."
He leans back as the sec crew finish their own meals, running his tongue over a tooth. "Well, there's only the one gang of pirates in this little region of space. It's not an especially large group, but that's more cause not too many ships pass by here than to any lack of skill on my former boss' part. I don't know if this is his real name," Smitty leans in conspiratorially, "but we all called him 'Captain Buckshaw', that ring any bells?"
(Knowledge (Crime) Roll DC 50: 48+10=58, success)
You nod. "Yeah, I'm familiar with the name. He was a former, uh…" You trail off, racking your memories before snapping your fingers. "Pilot in the SUN, right? Took his squadron and went AWOL? Last I heard, he was up near Saturn." He's got a decent bounty out on his head, too, 50k SUDs, if you recall correctly. Seems about right for a deserter's bounty.
"Well, you heard wrong, 'cause he's down here." Smitty snarks at you while rolling his eyes. The effect of this is lessened by a crack in his voice and the reddening of his cheeks. De's balls, he is young. He coughs into his hand and gets back on track. "But Buckshaw seems to be a decent pilot and commander, as far as these things go, certainly better than I am."
"What about numbers, machines, ships?" You press him.
"I think he's got a… couple more freighters, at least. And the Destroyer he stole from the Sunners." He shrugs his shoulders. "I've got no real idea on his MBFs, though I know he still has most of the Sunner machines he deserted with, full military grade MBFs at that. Pilots are still with him, too, last I heard."
"Damn and blast." You swear at your misfortune. Going up against pirates is one thing, but going up against trained soldiers in military grade machines? Well, that's another thing entirely. An idea pops into the back of your head, a wicked, oily thing, one that sets your hair on edge.
You do know somebody who has access to military grade and better… though you're loath to call her. …but it seems that you have very little choice in the matter.
Great.
With the idea in your head, you head towards the bridge to see if the comms are functional.
(+1 Leadership XP for successfully integrating Smitty. +1 progress to earning Trait: Marshal in Training (0/2))
~~~~~~~
End of Day Report
-Crew Roll: 89
The Klaw and Drillbit operators took some initiative and salvaged the pirate MBFs floating nearby. Most of it was worthless junk, but they managed to scavenge together 5 points of armor from the wrecks.
-Corsair Repairs Complete (1 Armor used)
-2 1/2 Days left till the Sniper is complete
-1/2 Day until the Lancer is repaired
-Thunder is unrepairable right now, not enough spare armor
-<1 Day left till the ship is, mostly, flyable
-~1 Day till Haagricorp Escorts arrive
What do you do tomorrow? (You may pick up to 3)
-[ ] Modify MBFs
--[ ] Which MBF/s
---[ ] Which part/s
-[ ] Check on the ship's repair process and ask Janna about that wafer-thing you found
-[ ] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[ ] You're gonna need somebody to pilot that Sniper, once it's done. Hold try-outs amongst the crew to see if they have any skill or talent.
-[ ] Get some time in the sims
--[ ] Train with someone else? Write in (You may choose as many as you want from your pilots)
--[ ] Train by yourself
-[ ] Study active pilots, just in case you encounter them in the future
--[ ] Focus on someone?
---[ ] Buckshaw
---[ ] Write in
--[ ] Just general studying
-[ ] Research the great officers of history, see how they lead their men to victory (Chance to earn progress for Trait: Marshal in Training)
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Finals are done and I've got a couple weeks off, so lets get some questing done, shall we? Votes will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST and thank you all!
Also, as a heads up, I changed some things with the ship's stats and how cargo will work. You now have Storage Points (SP) which tell you how much you can store in a cargo bay
You rise from the table, the crew staring up at you with eyes wide. "He was left to die, just like us." You sweep your gaze across the captivated faces, a shallow laugh slipping through your lips. "People tend to rethink things, when stranded in space. He wants to even the scores and I intend to give him that chance."
"Don't worry." You cast one last look at Smitty. You don't really think he'll turn on you, but they don't know that. A dark tone enters your voice as it's lowered even further. "If he tries something, anything, stupid, I'll take care of him."
(Charm Roll DC 60, 90: 93+10(They Respect You)+10(A Good Speech)=113, double success and +1 XP to Charm)
The ringleader speaks up first, breaking the silence that had formed. "W-we'll hold you to that, Marshal." His voice is a tad bit shaky as he looks towards Smitty, expression full of new understanding.
Marshal, huh? You give a soft grin. That's not a bad callsign, that's not a bad callsign at all.
You step away from the tables and grab a tray, taking a seat across from Smitty. He looks up as you sit down, an unasked question clear on his face.
"Yeah," you nod, scooping up a spoonful of food, "I reckon I smoothed things over. Just, you know, probably shouldn't make jokes or whatever about it."
He laughs, "Thanks, boss. Having to watch my back all the time would suck. Now I just need to watch it the normal amount."
You nod as you come around to why you came here in the first place, well, besides needing to eat, that is. You need information on what you're going to be up against in the near future and you've got a source right in front of you.
"Smitty," you start, not wasting time, "what sorta enemies are we looking at here? Numbers, commanders, machines, things like that."
He leans back as the sec crew finish their own meals, running his tongue over a tooth. "Well, there's only the one gang of pirates in this little region of space. It's not an especially large group, but that's more cause not too many ships pass by here than to any lack of skill on my former boss' part. I don't know if this is his real name," Smitty leans in conspiratorially, "but we all called him 'Captain Buckshaw', that ring any bells?"
(Knowledge (Crime) Roll DC 50: 48+10=58, success)
You nod. "Yeah, I'm familiar with the name. He was a former, uh…" You trail off, racking your memories before snapping your fingers. "Pilot in the SUN, right? Took his squadron and went AWOL? Last I heard, he was up near Saturn." He's got a decent bounty out on his head, too, 50k SUDs, if you recall correctly. Seems about right for a deserter's bounty.
"Well, you heard wrong, 'cause he's down here." Smitty snarks at you while rolling his eyes. The effect of this is lessened by a crack in his voice and the reddening of his cheeks. De's balls, he is young. He coughs into his hand and gets back on track. "But Buckshaw seems to be a decent pilot and commander, as far as these things go, certainly better than I am."
"What about numbers, machines, ships?" You press him.
"I think he's got a… couple more freighters, at least. And the Destroyer he stole from the Sunners." He shrugs his shoulders. "I've got no real idea on his MBFs, though I know he still has most of the Sunner machines he deserted with, full military grade MBFs at that. Pilots are still with him, too, last I heard."
"Damn and blast." You swear at your misfortune. Going up against pirates is one thing, but going up against trained soldiers in military grade machines? Well, that's another thing entirely. An idea pops into the back of your head, a wicked, oily thing, one that sets your hair on edge.
You do know somebody who has access to military grade and better… though you're loath to call her. …but it seems that you have very little choice in the matter.
Great.
With the idea in your head, you head towards the bridge to see if the comms are functional.
(+1 Leadership XP for successfully integrating Smitty. +1 progress to earning Trait: Marshal in Training (0/2))
~~~~~~~
End of Day Report
-Crew Roll: 89
The Klaw and Drillbit operators took some initiative and salvaged the pirate MBFs floating nearby. Most of it was worthless junk, but they managed to scavenge together 5 points of armor from the wrecks.
-Corsair Repairs Complete (1 Armor used)
-2 1/2 Days left till the Sniper is complete
-1/2 Day until the Lancer is repaired
-Thunder is unrepairable right now, not enough spare armor
-<1 Day left till the ship is, mostly, flyable
-~1 Day till Haagricorp Escorts arrive
What do you do tomorrow? (You may pick up to 3)
-[ ] Modify MBFs
--[ ] Which MBF/s
---[ ] Which part/s
-[ ] Check on the ship's repair process and ask Janna about that wafer-thing you found
-[ ] Check on Captain Kamilla and Charles
-[ ] You're gonna need somebody to pilot that Sniper, once it's done. Hold try-outs amongst the crew to see if they have any skill or talent.
-[ ] Get some time in the sims
--[ ] Train with someone else? Write in (You may choose as many as you want from your pilots)
--[ ] Train by yourself
-[ ] Study active pilots, just in case you encounter them in the future
--[ ] Focus on someone?
---[ ] Buckshaw
---[ ] Write in
--[ ] Just general studying
-[ ] Research the great officers of history, see how they lead their men to victory (Chance to earn progress for Trait: Marshal in Training)
~~~~~~~
GM's Note: Finals are done and I've got a couple weeks off, so lets get some questing done, shall we? Votes will be called tomorrow at 2 PM CST and thank you all!
Also, as a heads up, I changed some things with the ship's stats and how cargo will work. You now have Storage Points (SP) which tell you how much you can store in a cargo bay