What's new
  • This section is for roleplays only.
    ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.

    Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.

Futuristic [IC] Sail the Stars : Mission Log

Sub Genres
Action, Adventure, Cyberpunk, Dystopian, Slice of Life


i has return
Heart of Tenacity Orbital Space Station, on orbit of planet Kepler-62f
Relative time 13:52 Kepler-62f

The crew of the Essex is to rendezvous at the Orbital Space Station's dry dock.


What you see before you is a bustling dry dock of the Orbital Space Station Heart of Tenacity. Countless ships are parked in the gigantic space divided from the vacuum only by a grid shield based airlock system, with an equally great amount of passengers, in various shapes and sizes too, coming and going in every corner. Stench of grease, welding flames, and fuel pollute the air and invade your lungs. It feels bitter, as if someone's smothering you with a pillow soaked with fuel. The sound of labor-welding armor plates to place, scraping off asteroid fragments, workers shouting to each other, and the like- bang on your ears like a very own orchestra of the docks. Violent bursts of drills shake your brains and the banging of hammers beat your heart. And even in that busy mess, some people walk around with a box filled with refreshments looking for some profit. The scent of a freshly opened strawberry juice mixes in with the stench only to form a grotesque formula.
As if adding to the chaotic symphony, the speakers attached on every catwalks come to life with three beeps.
"Welcome to Heart of Tenacity, an Orbital Space Station open to civilians and military forces alike. Please visit the information center at the end of the dry dock for any questions about the station."
The announcement repeats itself in dozens of different languages, and the speaker goes silent after three beeps. It was just the usual announcement, and it seemed to repeat itself every now and then. It may have been fun to hear it the first few times, but make it a dozen and you might prefer the sound of the drills over that same announcement over and over.
Nothing too special is going on in the dry dock, obviously. Everyone is minding their own business, and such would be the same for the crew of the Corvette Essex. After a few hours spent on the Station, it was time for the crew to gather up before their home(or a new one, if they just joined in on the bunch).


With little fear, and less surprise.
If he hadn’t just polished off his forth mulled cider this afternoon – non-alcoholic, because technically he was on duty – Brohdish would’ve sidled up to the nearest snack-and-beverage seller and at least had a gander at the provisions they were offering on the dry dock. In fact, despite the cider he’d been drinking, a part of his stomach demanded the attention of something solid. His internals were at a digestive civil war.

Brohdish was used to a churning stomach to an extent: some races adjusted easily off-planet, but he was becoming certain that his race wasn’t one that fell into that category. There was no reliable substitute for the maned boar or arctic antelope of Bestla XII. In mostly-human stations and settlements, fat was trimmed off meat and the cooking processes prioritised the addition of roughage and carbs. If Brohdish resigned himself to eating everything, he’d spend a few hours with an offended stomach, and if he ignored the extras, he’d become ravenous by the early morning.

It was safe to say that Brohdish knew the vulgarity of various internal discomforts quite well; he also knew his current gastric dissonance wasn’t to do with any of that. No, his stomach was reacting to something more obscene as he stomped his bulk down a flight of steel stairs: he was anxious.

The Essex had been his place of residence and work for half a year (which was seven-twelfths of a year back home), but he’d never shaken the enormity of his situation. He was so very far from home, hadn’t trudged through snow in ages, and was surrounded by species whose facial expressions he still couldn’t read very well. Every time he’d gone to the nearest gym on stations the Essex had made stops at, his brain would, if only for a half-second, be shocked at the sight of these strangely-shaved brutes, until he’d remember that no, they weren’t Taurus or Indicus who had shaved their bodies, either for ritual or environment survival, they were humans.

The lack of body hair meant their muscles were defined and visible, and Brohdish had noticed a correlation between muscle-definition and swaggering. The bulkiest were proud of their bodies, perhaps too much. Brohdish never said anything to them unless he was approached first. He’d just turn back to his own equipment and quietly miss home.

He was used to the Essex now though: he could take a breath, stretch, and feel the anxiety drain away like lactic acid.

So, that’s what he did. As he walked, he brought his elbows up and flexed every muscle above his waist that he knew the name of. Pecs major and minor, deltoids, bi- and triceps, trapezii, rhomboids, and his jaw for good measure. He was sure he wouldn’t be biting anything – or anyone – anytime soon, and his rather unfortunate mouth structure didn’t give him any hope to hold on anyway, but maybe some tusk-based intimidation might be necessary at some point. There was rumour of more crew joining, and maybe one of them would get too cocky and out of line.

A little frustrated part of Brohdish wanted that, at least a little bit. For someone to step over the boundary and give him an excuse to act on impulse. He’d been surrounded by expressions he couldn’t read and expectations that he’d follow human rules of politeness and manners for long enough that his temper was significantly frayed at the edges.

Brohdish let his arms drop as he came to a halt near the Essex. It was an astounding piece of engineering. He had to appreciate that. Though with that appreciation came sadness; would Bestla XII ever be able to construct even one interstellar ship? So far, the only pieces of gear that were sent beyond the atmosphere of Brohdish’s planet were satellites and exploratory drones inside simple rockets. From what he understood, Bestla XII wasn’t likely to ever be able to launch something like this. Papers published by native environmental groups documented the lack of suitable materials on Bestla XII, and external voices judged the planet’s size as the main reason for that.

Brohdish’s brow dropped in a scowl, and he snorted: he just couldn’t think positively. He had been trying to offset his demons with admiration of the Corvette he was serving on, but even that thought had been hijacked by sad realities.

So what if Bestla XII could never launch their own ship? Resources and materials could be bought, and there was a committee working with the Riverton Corporation, so that might prove fruitful.

The problem was, even if that was to happen, the ship wouldn’t be truly Bestla XII’s. Would it? Sure, it would be built by Taurus and Indicus hands, but the materials would’ve been dug out of some other planet’s dirt, been manufactured by some other race’s machines. There would be an offset feeling of being beholden to others during the shouts and roars of pride.

At least there would for Brohdish.

He grumbled to himself, knowing that starting to think about his home would bring on more negativity. Perhaps he should’ve had a few alcoholic rounds of cider, just to lighten him up and disable the anxiety.

With a stomp of defiance, a nonverbal decision that he was going to stop all this moping, he turned to observe the dry dock again, folding his broad arms over his equally broad – if a little meaty – chest.


"At least my mom took me to NASCAR!"
Ray walked onto the scene, seeing Snout had beat him there. He was wearing his outdated Colonial Marine garb, and a cowboy hat. He was quite excited, seeing a new crew would be fun, and forcing them to listen to his opening statement.
He stood next to Snout and awaited the newcomers to arrive, his hands behind his back.


The meaning of life is the fine game of nil
Essex's Navigator

Sigrun arrived to the terminal. It was the closest she had been to taking control of a starship since she got kicked out of the military. Although she could live the rest of her life cozy up in the safety of home, she is still eager to travel amongst stars and explore new things. She saw the captain is at the gate waiting for new crews to arrive, alongside a minotaur alien guy who is also part of the crew.

She bought a robot on her way here with an unbelievably low price, apart from being cheap, she also wonders what kind of serious problem could there be that this functional robots would be sold at such a low price.
Last edited:

Vagabond Spectre

College slave
Essex's Pilot
Heart of Tenacity Orbital Space Station, on orbit of planet Kepler-62f
Relative time 13:52 Kepler-62f

The faint gentle wind sweeps the sands off the ground onto the woman's cheek. Standing over a cliff as she looks right into the Sun's youthful glow, a habit of hers that she does every single planet she has ever set foot on. Kepler-62F is the planet she grew up on, the only Earth she thinks of rather than her species origin planet. Donning her Space suit which older crew members recognizes her always wearing, holding the helm by her side. It was time to travel among the depths of space once again.

Approximately 6 minutes later, A slender figure could be seen from a distance, upon closer range. This individual is wearing a space suit not similar to the locals anywhere and a black tintedhelmet covers their face, obviously Human. Their relaxed walking pace and a plastic bag in hand is already familiar to the old crew. finding her spot among the older crew, she positioned herself next to Ray before giving the man a quick nod before awaiting the new crew. The eco-friendly blue plastic bag has a strong scent of Melted grilled cheese and fried mushrooms. If Ray was any closer, the bag is hot and fresh.


Devil woman
Keiran could hardly stand the Station any longer, its polluted air that stung his nose, the loud noises that made his head hurt and the dreaded announcements that were set on repeat every couple of minutes. He was itching to shoot every one of the speakers right off their tall poles but resisted the urge and instead found himself a secluded spot near the junkyard. There, away from the hustle and bustle, he had discovered a nice view over some free spots on the dry dock. The Gehennian sat on the wicker basket containing his luggage consisting of ammo, food, a few basic tools and some spare clothing and waited patiently.

A few hours later, all the waiting paid off. The unmistakable whirr of the sublight engines of a corvette reached his ears and Keiran stood to get a better look. As the ship emerged from the fog-like smog, descended gracefully and its landing gear found the ground, he could spot the letters ESSEX painted on its side hull. This was it.

Keiran kept observing from afar as the ramp was lowered and soon, each crew member left the safety of their ship to stretch their legs, then quickly disappeared into the densely populated streets. Only around midday did they start returning. No point in waiting any longer, Keiran thought as he slung his basket back over his shoulder and returned to the chaos of the city.

Only a few minutes later, he reached the dock and could spot the Essex up ahead. Instead of approaching though, he quickly hid behind the wall of the nearest building and looked himself over. Keiran had to admit that he looked anything but presentable. All of his clothes were torn in various places, either by his constantly protruding scales or battle and although he tried to patch them up and sew them together over and over again, new holes appeared practically daily. His usually matte black scales were now the colour of charcoal and he reeked of soot and smoke. Clearly, the Station had left its mark on him. The only thing he could do now was to shake the dust from his clothes and wipe some of the grime with a rag from his basket.

An annoyed sigh escaped his lips as he looked back at the spaceship. Some crew members, as well as what appeared to the captain already stood at the gate awaiting their potential new mates. With a painfully deep inhale, Keiran left his hiding spot and approached the Essex, removing his mask, hood and goggles along the way to reveal his face.

The Gehennian stood in front of the crew and although the tip of his tail betrayed his uneasiness by swiping nervously from side to side, he spoke with confidence. “Good day, fellow adventurers, captain.”, he greeted with a respectful bow, knowing well from his time as a slave how humans liked to be flattered and admired. “I’ve come to apply for the position of gunner and deckhand for your magnificent vessel. I believe that my skills will be invaluable in combat situations or otherwise.”

(This is how Kei looks currently:


The meaning of life is the fine game of nil
Essex's Navigator

Gehennian? Sigrun peered over the captain's shoulder and saw the distinctive horns and scales of the alien. He looks somewhat familiar, can't tell when. His attitude suggest he might've been a slave, perhaps had bought his freedom or just old-school escaped. She had seen several Gehennian slaves back then when she had to attend business meeting with representatives with various mega corps, but she can't exactly say she's familiar with them...not that she really cared much since even the pen she used would easily worth the price of hundreds of slaves.

Not intending to give her input to the captain whether or not it’s a good idea to accept the Gehennian into the crew, and as the repeating announcements become more and more unbearable to her ears, Sigrun took out a gadget she bought from an antique shop not long ago. It’s an iPod Nano from an ancient time of early 21st century, 2005 to be exact, that somehow survived the destruction of the Last War.

A lot of these little relics of an bygone era are present in flea markets said to be exhumed from Earth, some are actually so fake it’s borderline cringe, she had saw someone trying to sale an AR-15 at an egregious price, claiming the assault rifle had been used by George Washington himself...

She puts on her earphone and starts listening to some old classical musics from the 1990s.

(Me trying my hands on drawing after years of haven’t drawn anything at all...just showing what Sigrun would be wearing)
Last edited:


"At least my mom took me to NASCAR!"
Ray stood there silently, checking his watch. He was waiting for the last guy on his list, some gunner. He glanced at his mistfit crew with a sense of pride. He was excited for the haul ahead, but he showed none of this. From his experience, you show a sliver of weakness, and the wrong crew will hold you at gun point. The only thing that has saved him at times is the Big Iron on his hip. He was quite happy to see Sky in her pilot's uniform.

While he had his suspicions about the crew, the only one he was truly worried about was the Navigator. From reading her file he knew she was dishonorable discharged, like himself. He was unable to find out why, prompting him to be more suspicious of her when she was attached to his roster. He checked his watch again. He would give the Juggernaut a few more minutes and then he would continue without him.


Expert Lurker
Alanus "Aurum" Farechild

The repair and maintenance of his Juggernaut's suit was taking longer than he had imagined. He waited impatiently in the lobby of the corporation he worked for, glancing at the clock every now and then. Time was ticking and he was almost sure that he was going to run late at this point. Of course, Alanus couldn't exactly rush the mechanics working on it unless he wanted for them to tamper with it intentionally. He's heard it happen before with some haughty Juggernauts and he'd rather not cross that line.

One of the office lads passed by him and offered him some food while he waited. However, with anxiety and excitement twisting his stomach, he decided against it. He'd rather not puke it all out just because he wanted to fill his stomach when it obviously wanted to do something else. Instead, he pulled out his cigarette and walked over to the smoking zone to get rid of the nerves. Hopefully, everything would go well. Explorations. It's been a while since his last assignment so he was looking forward to what this one had in store.

Once his name was called, he claimed his suit and quickly headed off. This wasn't his first assignment onboard the Essex and he was more than glad to come back. However, with just a month of experience with them, Alanus wasn't too keen on dirtying his record with them. He squeezed past people - though most of them just parted the way from the Juggernaut unless they wanted to be shoved out of the way in the worst way possible by the suited up human.

Arriving at the dry dock just in the nick of time, he quickly headed towards the Essex to see that the rest of the crew had already assembled. He let out a small curse in his own mind at his tardiness. He stopped in front of the captain and pressed his fist to his chest - the salute of the Juggernauts. "Apologies for my tardiness sir. Aurum of the Juggernauts, reporting for duty." He let out the introduction drivel fo every start of the mission.


"At least my mom took me to NASCAR!"
"Well, your absence was noted. But so was that of a few other people. So consider yourself lucky. Now, with your little intro to the ship for you new folks, and those returning. My name is Mr. Person, I am the Captain, next to me is the First Mate, Ms Mackenzie, and the Ship's AI is HAL, Say Hi HAL" The ship's AI chips in, with it's monotone male voice, "Hello Dave"
Ray immediately says, "I couldn't change its settings. Now, we have a lovely haul, with a nice payout. So, that means we may be attacked, as always. If you hear a call to general quarters, remember, Vac suit first, then battle stations. There are three toilets on the vessel, one on the upper, middle, and lower decks. The one on the lower decks is broken, so don't use it and flood the cargo bay. Also, the cook is brand new, don't abuse her. And I have a personal rules of engagement, so if you are called to general quarters, don't fire unless fired upon. and take off will be in one hour, so take that time to run through your pre-flights and get to know each other. And I almost forgot, welcome to the Essex."


The meaning of life is the fine game of nil
Essex's Navigator

"Aye aye capt'n" Sigrun said. She remembered when she was in the Starfleet, these kind of speech tend to be more...motivational, something about boots in your ass or maybe stuff like "anything less than the very best should have joined the coast guards". It's an interesting comparison.

She went to the bridge and starts preparing the ship for departure.

Chronometer checked, clocks synchronized. Steering gear and rudder indicator checked, voyage data recorder (VDR) is operational. The computer had the star chart up to date with information from the port authority, she checked and adjusted the XNAV (X-ray pulsar-based navigation) system to make sure it's aligned with Radar and the Electronic Chart Display and Information System, then load the voyage plan into the ECDIS, switch the Bridge Navigational Watch Alarm System to stand by, the BNWAS is a dead man alarm that the bridge officer is required to signal their presence to the BNWAS system every 3 to 12 minutes, otherwise the captain or the first officer will be notified in their cabin.

There doesn't seem to be any navigational forecast warnings from authorities in the vicinity star systems at the moment, no astronomical events that could affect starship navigation are expected around 1 parsec of this space station in near future. She then checked the data printed out from the NAVTEX receiver, and it said the Starfleet is going to conduct gunnery firing exercise in the voyage area 36 standard Earth hours from now and some zones are prohibited to enter.

Sigrun ran the pre departure checklist and carry out functional test one by one to verify the vessel is prepared and spaceworthy.
Last edited:

Clan Ize

I am the God of Androids, FEAR ME
Arisu Ize
Arisu approached the ship occasionally glancing at the stalls. You never knew what kind of idiots were here and it was somewhat interesting to see what they were selling. Her boots clicked against the hard floor as she approached the hangar part of the station. She quickly glanced at some of the people around her, most of them looked as you would expect. Wearing pilots gear and quite messy. Of course she knew that on the higher levels were nicer hangars but this was where her ride was. She looked around for a bit undisturbed as most civilians didn't want to deal with a person with a gun slung across her shoulder and usually just parted around her. After looking at the ships a bit Arisu finally spotted the paint chipped words of Essex on one of the ships hulls. Upon reaching the Essex she spotted what appeared to be the captain and next to him another person. Both of them were human males and appeared to be Ex - Military, which wasn't as bad as she had imagined. She walked up to them and stared at the captain for a bit, playing with her gun while she waited for him to finish.
Last edited:


"At least my mom took me to NASCAR!"
As the crew departed for the vessel, he noticed the newcomer. He approached her with a semi-professional gait, and took a good look at her rifle. He steel toed cowboy boots clinked as he walked over to her. Noticing the classic receiver and design on the gun, he knew it was an AK, but of whether it was a 12, a very modified 74, or possibly a 33 or 42, he was unsure.
He checked his watch casually, "You the new security? You appear to be late." he said, not being accusatory, just suggestive. "Well, I should welcome you aboard the Essex. I am captain Person, you are...?" He held out his hand for a shake.

Clan Ize

I am the God of Androids, FEAR ME
As the crew departed for the vessel, he noticed the newcomer. He approached her with a semi-professional gait, and took a good look at her rifle. He steel toed cowboy boots clinked as he walked over to her. Noticing the classic receiver and design on the gun, he knew it was an AK, but of whether it was a 12, a very modified 74, or possibly a 33 or 42, he was unsure.
He checked his watch casually, "You the new security? You appear to be late." he said, not being accusatory, just suggestive. "Well, I should welcome you aboard the Essex. I am captain Person, you are...?" He held out his hand for a shake.
Arisu was never one for handshakes. Instead she just gave him a small nod

"My name is Arisu"

Her voice was distorted and much deeper. Then, she walked inside on her own and took a seat. She took a moment to glance at her surroundings but mainly just focused on playing with her gun
Last edited:


"At least my mom took me to NASCAR!"
He watched as she walked past him, and decided that he might avoid her. He fears no man, but that thing, it gives him goosebumps. Ray decides to go inside as well and navigates the vessel with ease and enters into the flight deck. He sees his new Nav and gives her a nod. He then sits in his chair and puts he feet up on the data table in front of him, closes his eyes and smiles. After being stuck in port, he loves the smell of the recycled air and hops, which were fermenting in the generator room.
He swivels his chair to Sig, now a bit more relaxed. "All systems checked?"


With little fear, and less surprise.
“You’re an idiot.”

“Yes, I know, I’m not disputing that.”

“Biggest moron I’ve ever seen and or met.”

“I heard.”

“Astoundingly braindead.”

Moscur Del clenched his jaw. Being a little brother to a jock for so many years had set him up for namecalling and insults, but they actually stung when even he considered them to be entirely accurate. He’d got the wrong ship name in his head.

A few weeks ago, his assignment was to be a support engineer aboard the Dawson’s Christian but at the last minute he was flagged by another captain to be their Head Engineer. He’d accepted without a thought, but had failed to file that correction in his memory. He was meant to be at the dry dock by now, meeting the captain of the Essex and setting a good precedent for his professionalism despite his age. But, up until a few minutes ago, he’d been making corrections to a paper while chatting to one of his friends through an earpiece.

The friend had all the time in the world to call him whatever he wanted too. He was a low-ranking personnel trainer, someone who trained the people before they blossomed into capable commanders. He was also possibly one of the most intimidating people Del had ever met.

He had a charisma about him that wasn’t usual in someone of his weight. Apparently he’d been good enough to get to his position without having to worry about fitness evaluations. But the thing stopping him from rising higher was his sheer unprofessionalism. He spoke his mind, which sometimes wasn’t welcome among U- or Lo-Gov workers or station commanders.

Still, they had enough chemistry to be friends. And their friendship was strong enough to where he was perhaps even gleeful to call Del an idiot, a moron, a dunderhead, a buffoon, an ignoramus, et cetera, for getting the name of his assigned ship wrong.

Or maybe he was just mean.

“Do you mind if I hang up on you?” Del said, having finally got his gear into the bulky reinforced shoulder bag.

“Yeah I mind.”

“Mind what?”

“Hanging up--”

“Yes I am, bye.”

Del tapped his earpiece to hang up, deciding that the few seconds of standing still was worth it just to wind his friend up a little. He smirked. Then he turned and ran. Or, jogged. Running wasn’t advised on his prosthesis.

Brohdish had stood aside to let the people of smaller stature get on the ship first. They didn’t need him clogging up some of the narrower passages on the ship. It wasn’t his fault he was born a Taurus. At least, he’d said to the captain a few times, he wasn’t an Indicus, because some Indicus superclans had a real pride in growing massive horns.

While he waited, he grinned at Aurum, glad to see him back on the ship. “Eh lad, it’d be fun tae spar wit’ ye again, let me know if you’ve got a free couplea hours sometime. Ah’ve been workin’ on ma deadliftin’. Could prolly bench-press, uhh,” he paused and looked around the dry dock, eventually seeing the rather smaller frame of Del hurrying onto the catwalk, “that scrawny wee fella. Maybe two of ‘im even. But then again, ah be ye could benchpress like, two of me so, ah dunno how much an achievement ah’ve got!” He laughed, brown eyes bright. He was relaxing again.

One of the newcomers had also caught his eye: the Gehennian. If Brohdish remembered the dossier his name was Keiran, and, as he’d said, he was applying to be a gunner.

When he’d bowed in front of the captain, something inside Brohdish had twinged. It was a feeling he’d learned to suppress around humans and most other species because, to them, bowing was a respect signal. Maybe it was because he was in an anxious turmoil, but the old nerve of Taurus pride and power had been twinged when he saw Keiran bow: to show respect and submission in Taurus and Indicus culture, you tilted your chin up, causing your horns to jut backwards and, importantly, out of the equation. Lowering your head was the sign of a challenge, of defiance, of violence and a promise that the person didn’t respect your authority at all.

But Brohdish knew that’s not how Keiran meant it. It was statistically unlikely he meant it that way, anyway.

He certainly stood out, that was for sure, but Brohdish was glad that he wasn’t the only person on ship with beastly origins. Sure, Keiran was scaled while he sported coarse hair, but the point still stood.

Still, bantering could come later probably. Hopefully. Maybe over a pint. Brohdish made a mental note to ask Keiran whether alcohol was something he enjoyed first. Some people preferred that than just getting some piss-coloured beverage slapped down in front of them.

While he was doing that, the ‘scrawny fella’ he’d spotted had approached him, mumbled a sheepish, “Sorry, excuse me,” and slipped into the ship. Brohdish’s brain took a moment to realise what had happened but, after he made the connection, he barrelled onto the ship and began looking around, trying to identify the small man.

He’d vanished. Brohdish didn’t recognise him at all. He’d have to have a little stomp around the ship at some point and try to find him. Until then though, he had a station to be at.


The Pun Tyrant The Gif Hydra

  • Tria

    "23.467 Kilograms." No, that didn't feel quite right. Some bit of it was stuck that wasn't properly accounted for in that initial estimate, given how the granular feeling hadn't entirely moved. I shook the sack of manure again, then turned to the store owner. "Correction. 23.473 Kilograms. Contents may still be insufficient to fulfill galactic label honesty act. Requisite: Display larger containers."

    The shop owner scratched his horns and his forehead's skin became even more wrinkled as he furrowed his eyebrows. Nonetheless, he forced a smile and rubbed his hands together, a habit he seemed to have whenever he spoke.

    "You dam- I mean, dear customer I apologize but we don't have any larger sacks, other than the industrial sizes for ecoships, and those are reserved for company contracts. Not a lot of our customers have your uhm, interests see..."

    I tilted my head.

    "I am not authorized to make purchases which are not in compliance with the law. The available amount within these containers is insufficient for what is stated on the label. Initiating reporti-"

    The shop owner nearly knocked me down when jumped in my direction, arms outstretched.

    "WAIT! Uh, dear customer, how about, how about uh, oh, what if I were to sell you these four bags and offer you one for free? Think of it like each of the four having more manure, the math checks out doesn't it?"

    I stopped.

    "Calculating. Average resulting amount- excessive. Weight and space concerns, redundant. Trade is acceptable. I will purchase the four containers, and additional free one. Please prepare a suitable crate for transport."

    "Do you wish to use the delivery service? Only a small fee."

    "Not required. Unit Tria is capable of handling transport requirements for this purchase."

    The shopkeeper nodded along, and took me to the payment area while the store placed my order in the crate as requested. He was even kind enough to open the door for me while I lifted the crate over my shoulder and walked out of the store and onto the the station's lounge area again. People drifted from one end of the station to the next, especially the pilots of smaller ships who didn't have as much of a chance to stretch their (typically) legs. Two men with black fur all over their bodies and small floppy limbs passed by me, holding beverages. The fur patterns, body structure, vibrations, and what could be gathered from the released dust particles from them was quickly analyzed by my gaze, resulting in an assessment of their kin.

    [Code: 6284685643959923491987969 => Title: Pronious Ghilan Corantis]

    It would appear that I better not get involved with them or draw their attention. That species was known to be particularly lustful. I let them pass and moved as quickly away from them as I could, nearly bumping into a passing older man with an old captain outfit (modelled after those of Earthen ships, back between the 19th and 22nd centuries) with a rather white unkept beard.

    [Code: 111111111111111111111110981 => Homo Terrastris Sapiens]

    Hardly surprising the man was human. I believe this was a mostly human station either way. The vast majority of the codes I witnessed today were all human after all. I consulted my internal clocks. We should be departing in a few moments. I better return to the ship at once. However, in my way was a woman with a pair of wings popping out of her dress, and kneeling before a small child with the same pattern of scales but softer and less developed, crying as they held a creamy drink with a thick straw. Both the reptilians were in the pathway of the tunnel leading to the port entries.

    "What's the matter hun? What's the matter?" Inquired the mother.

    [Code: 9328757749857932459287 => Title: Drafnis Titular Poronos]

    Titus dragonoids. A rather unremarkable species, excluding having been a human uplifting project. However, it wasn't the only code I got from that encounter. I focused my gaze into the milkshake-like beverage, and zoomed in.

    [Code: 87979719797913489318 => Title: Microbiam Slata Genis]

    I approached the mother, and placed my free hand on her shoulder.

    "Beverage content includes irregularities. Detected bacterial substances that produce spicy enzymes. Further consumption is not recommend. Illness risk found. Additional request: Please allow passage."

    It seemed as though the mother only then realized they were blocking the path. She quickly stood up and thanked me while letting the gathering crowd pass, and I was able to make my return to the ship. Once there I headed to my room next to the laboratory. It was small, but unlike organic beings I could still charge on a wall, and so I had enough space to still grow my small garden. I couldn't help but twist my lips up, I believe they called that "smiling", as I entered and saw the little green things: The way the leaves flowed up then down with the breeze from the open door made it almost as though they were waiving at me, welcoming me back. There was a certain... nostalgic sensation to it I couldn't quite put my finger on.

    "Thank you, I have returned." I kneeled in front of them and put down the crate. Then I opened it and took out a small, about portrait-sized, package wrapped with artisanal strings and cosmoswimmer leather, and stood back up. "I'll be back soon. I need to deliver this to Master Pout first."

    And with that, I headed for the aforementioned Homo Tauro's room, carrying the package between my arms.


Interacting With: N/A
Mentions: 0stinato 0stinato (Snout)
May Also Want to Read: N/A


Devil woman
Keiran could undoubtedly feel eyes on him – disinterested, prideful but also curious. He was used to them all. Gehennians rarely braved the wilderness away from home, not willingly at least, as it provided all that they needed. Thus, one such as himself was a relatively rare sight. One of the many reasons why Keiran preferred to hide his easily recognizable features.

When the captain began his speech, the Gehennian listened carefully, making mental notes of every single word that left the human’s mouth. After he was done, Kei continued repeating the mentioned names, as well as the proper pronunciations, in his mind lest he forgot them. Unfortunately, it happened more often than he liked to admit. Captain Person, not Pearson. First Mate Mackenzie, Ma-cken-zie. Computer Hal, not Hall.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by some new arrivals and he quickly stepped out of their way. One was the cold, calculated and heavily armed security, going by the name of Arisu – certainly, one he didn’t want to mess with, nor misspell their name. The other was a young human, maybe a teen, that almost didn’t seem to fit in at all. He was thin as a rail and despite his painfully obvious prosthetic leg, rather quick and nimble. Before Keiran could have a good look at the peculiar kid though, he had already disappeared into the ship with the brute of a Taurus on his tail.

Keiran was alone again but in no rush. He made a hesitant step forward, then quickly pulled his foot back, startled by the coldness of the steel ramp. His first and last memory of boarding a ship similar to the Essex was years ago when he and everyone he knew were put in chains and dragged inside against their will. Memories flooded his mind and he glanced back at the city, a thought of running away striking him with the same force as the hammers that could be heard in the distance. “Don’t be a coward now”, he muttered to himself as he shook his head and looked back towards the Essex. Just as he had decided years ago to become a menace to the elves and a hero to his own people, there was no turning back now either.

The Gehennian readjusted the basket around his shoulder, then stepped inside his new home with newfound confidence. First things first, Kei thought as he immediately headed up the stairs to one of the three bathrooms. Looking and smelling like a wild creature that slept under a bridge wouldn’t do him any favors, especially in an enclosed space such as the ship. Just a few moments later, he was already looking significantly better. His scales had restored their natural black color and although water couldn’t fix the tears in his clothes, they too didn’t look like rags fished from a garbage bin any longer.

Keiran quickly stashed his belongings in a corner of the cargo hold, not without taking his rifle, pistols and sufficient ammo of course – he was a gunner after all. Finally, he headed for the lounge area where he expected to find at least some of the other crew members, all probably eagerly awaiting the departure. The sooner he made some friends, the better.


The meaning of life is the fine game of nil
Essex’s Navigator​

“Jawohl Herr Kapitän—A hem, I mean, Yes captain. Sir.” Sigrun went over to the back of the bridge where a bunch of electric switchboards are located, she then switch on the navigational lights.

“Navigation wise we’re ready to take off, just wait till all crews are on board and have the port authority check our cargo documents to make sure everything stored on board are legal and there’s no stowaway...”

Sigrun stopped and realised she haven’t seen that cook robot she bought yet, think she’s called Honey. Did the store just send her over in a box like a cargo?

interaction SpazTheButcher SpazTheButcher

(If Honey is not available for posting yet I think she should be in the cargo hold after we take off lol)
Last edited:

Vagabond Spectre

College slave
Sarah Mackenzie

The captain greets the new crewmates with short speech, removing the helmet covering her face to reveal her blonde golden hair, tied back to a messy hair bun and eyes blue as the seas of Earth. Giving a small nod to the new crew upon introduction. The woman did not say anything as she simply stares into the horizon almost zoning out. Seeing new faces was something Sarah was not too excited about as she is either spending half the time focused on flying or focused only on the mission whenever she is off the cockpit.

Returning to back reality she did. A quick two finger salute was given to the recruits right after the captain mentions the Ship's name. Without hesitation she was the first one to board the Ship via opening ramp, it was time to get back to work again. Departure happens about an hour from now, usual preparations had to be done before the sail for the stars. Sarah made haste to reach her usual spot first, her cockpit. With the power on, the Ship's HUD is displaying excellent conditions of the ship. Blankly staring at the consoles laid out with many switches, meters and holograms. She sat down for a bit to relax after standing and walking for a while. Only for a little while she noticed that she still had food in her hand and the aroma was already sticking to the place. She did plan on eating it herself, after all it's her favorite street food in Kepler-62F and an unpopular one at that. Kepler is known for it's mushroom delicacy. Standing up her seat, she was later found in the lounge area not knowing where to place the snacks. She laid the warm plastic bag into a small table before she left without acknowledging the current presence into the room. The woman walked out to meet with another person. She heads towards where her Navigator and Captain was suppose to be. The bag did had something attached to it. A contrasting yellow sticky note with a fine black maker hand writing. Inside there are 12 mushroom kebabs covered in grilled cheese on a stick, fresh and still smoking hot.

Please have much as you like. It's a Mushroom kebab with grilled cheese, welcome aboard.

-Ms. Sarah Mackenzie, the ship pilot

"Captain, awaiting to get the all crewmates on board. Is that all of them?"

Arriving to the scene. Sarah stopped and stood by the doorway before proceeding to come in. Sarah gave both the Captain and the Navigator their respectful nods. She watched Sigrun go around making preparations whilst the Captain relaxes his head on the chair. Monotonous as always, she always follows up a question.

"Any space flight plans we are following today, Navigator?"

(Direct interactions)
Jackson123 Jackson123
SpazTheButcher SpazTheButcher

Verena Verena (Char. was in the lounge room)


Expert Lurker
Alanus "Aurum" Farechild

Alanus should have been relieved that he wasn't in trouble. It wasn't his fault in particular but it was no excuse to be tardy. They were all invited inside but he made a cursory glance at the others. Some of them were familiar to him but most were new, if he wasn't mistaken. Despite the situation, he smiled to himself. He couldn't wait to get to know them better. Even if some of them looked a bit more intimidating than the others. Nothing new in Alanus's eyes - after all, most of his fellow Juggernauts adopted the same energy. Better to distance yourself from others and focus on the mission rather than becoming close with people who you might fail to protect.

A familiar voice pulled him back from his thoughts, eyes lighting up in excitement and recognition. "Snout! Good to see you again!" A wide, genuine smile had spread across his face. He let out a light laugh. "Hey, I'm not the one always running around and doing sciencey stuff. Whenever you're free, I'm always up for a friendly match or two." His eyes landed on the man Brohdish was pertaining to and chuckled. "Hey look man, without this bad boy-" He tapped his armor, an audible clank resounding as metal hit metal. "-I could probably just bench press one of you." Alanus took pride in his own physical prowess. It was the only thing that set him apart from others, after all. "Well, time to head inside. See ya later mate."

With that little reunion over with, Alanus headed inside. He stocked up his things in the cargo hold, clipping his shields to the side of his armor as well as his handgun. The machine gun was safely attached to the back of his suit, a little out of the way but easily accessible when needed. With that, he headed off. Though his armor looked terribly bulky, he was more than comfortable wearing it rather than not. Getting into the suit took more time than necessary so unless he was in the showers, sleeping, or on maintenance, he'd rather have it on.

Arriving at the lounge, his stomach began to churn as the aroma of food circulated in it. With little thought, he gravitated towards the bag and read the letter. "Thank you Sarah..." He muttered as he grabbed one of the kebabs and began munching on it. He made a mental note to bother- or well, thank her later. They were probably busy with the ship's startup so he wasn't keen on disturbing her until later.

He finally noticed the other occupant of the lounge. With the kebab in his mouth, he gave a grin and a wave at the Gehennian. Noticing the guns, his grin widened even more. After chewing and swallowing, he nodded. "Gunner too huh? I'm looking forward to working with each other." It was always nice to be able to work closely with others. It's how he was able to talk to Sarah since they had a similar armorset and style of fighting. "Ah, where are my manners? Aurum's my codename but you can call me Alanus."

Verena Verena 0stinato 0stinato
Last edited:


New Member
The world was blurry. Honey had opened her eyes for the first time since... The air was cold. It was her first breath since... Dizzy yet gracefully, she ascended through the mist from her cryochamber. She could finally make out the words, "..... meet Honey. Honey, meet your new owner!" Honey blinked, seeing clearly now. In front of her was a beautiful pink haired humanoid with pointy ears. Her face was already smiling as was programmed to every time she awoke, but this time her smile wouldn't fade. She had previously been awoken 15...16...17 times, possibly, by Mister Mackers for a yearly inspection to ensure that she was still operating properly enough for sale. She would wake up, greet him, perform her duties for judgement, and then disappointingly be returned to her case. "...Honey...Honey! Introduce yourself!" She had forgotten to greet! Was she overcome with excitement?

"Hello! My name is Honey, your cooking companion. I am knowledgeable of cuisine from 213 different planets. Would you like breakfast from Neu Bonn? Or lunch fr--"

"Now I won't lie to you," Mister Mackers cut her off. She finished her lines, of course, but at a much softer tone. "Honey is a Model II Aether Synth. They get a bad rep, but Honey here is one of a kind and very rare... It's a great investment to you and... whoever you want it servicing, but if you ever have any issues, feel free to comeback and return it. No refunds of course. Also if you want, I'll throw in it's custom fit chef's knife for a steal." The buyer accepted and went on her way to await delivery. Mister Mackers turned his large, slimy body around to Honey's innocent smile. "Go back to sleep, Honey. It's time to get you cleaned and changed into your model uniform before you're shipped over to the docks."

"But you are not my owner. You can no longer order me," Honey objected. But he could. Honey could see the key to her cervical port in his green mitten and her lights went out.

She awoke again, but not dizzily like last time. It was hard to see again, but only because it was dark. It was cramped and cold too. Much more cramped than the cryochamber that she was used too, but also much warmer. She felt a sort of acceleration and realized she must just be in shipping. It wasn't disappointing, however. It was exciting. She could feel the sway of her key swing on a key that was tied around her neck. Despite the constricting space, this was the most freedom she's ever had in her short life. She felt as the container stopped moving and then felt as a it was lifted and then dropped where her destination must be. Honey hoped that her new owner and new life would be good to her, but for now, all she could was rest until someone opened her box.

Clan Ize

I am the God of Androids, FEAR ME
Arisu Ize
Arisu had a small smile under her mask as she carefully put in the last pin to reassemble her precious Ak-33. She had carefully fine tuned everything in the gun to her exact liking, everything from where she mounted her sight to how much energy per bolt was fired. Then, she took out some polishing oil and a rag and began to clean up the gun. There was no use in having a dirty looking gun when you had the option to have a sparkling clean one. As she carefully dropped some polishing oil and began to clean and spread it across the gun carefully the hum of an electronic being powered on caught her attention. According to her data currently there were only biological beings on board minus the ship A.I, which meant that there was another machine onboard. Carefully she capped the oil bottle and put it away along with her rag, then she loaded her gun and headed off to the storage area of the ship. As she walked down the cold metal hallway different thoughts ran through Arisu's mind. As she calculated the probability of each and ran through millions scenarios in her head. When she finally reached the dark storage area which was besides on or two boxes was mostly empty. Carefully Arisu scanned each box for anything suspicious, after scanning the first box and detecting nothing electronic in it she scanned the second box and detected that there was indeed a machine inside. Slowly she crept over to it and upon reaching the box checked one more time to confirm, then violently she tore open the top of the box and pointed her gun at Honey

"Unit state your model, serial number and reason for boarding or prepare to be terminated"

Her voice similar to earlier was still very distorted and deep. She kept her guns barrel pointed directly at Honey, the red dot glowing on her body

Interactions: milo-ren milo-ren (Honey)
Location: Storage Area
Last edited:


New Member
Arisu opens the lid of the box to find a small girl tightly squeezed in a fetal position with little to no room to physically respond in any way. The girl, Honey, would ultimately respond in no way at all, as she appeared to be sleeping. Her face rested in her knees and her blue hair hung down. Her back rose and fell gently as she breathed.

Interaction: Clan Ize Clan Ize
Location: Storage room


The meaning of life is the fine game of nil
Essex’s Navigator

“Ja. The voyage plan had been loaded to the ECDIS. We’ll wait until documents are checked and harbour traffic control give us the clearance to take off, they’ll tell us which side would we depart, but I believe we’ll move that way and make a gravitational slingshot to the departure direction, that’ll save us some fuel when we accelerate to the solar escape velocity of Kepler-62, and we can make warp speed once we’re cleared of the sun’s gravitational influence.” Sigrun told the starship pilot. She’s satisfied to see the main engine had warmed up nicely, boiler pressure and temperature are within acceptable limits.

At this moment she received a security warning from the cargo hold. Sigrun immediately put her hands on the holster of her Luger P08 and walk over to the security camera. She was relieved when she saw it was just the synth that she bought. Seems like the store didn’t do their paperwork to register the product to the shipping manifest.

“it’s okay Arisu, thank you. That’s my, eh, stuff. It’s our cook, actually.” Sigrun said with the PA system when she cancel the security alert.

interaction: Vagabond Spectre Vagabond Spectre Clan Ize Clan Ize milo-ren milo-ren

Users Who Are Viewing This Thread (Users: 1, Guests: 2)

  • Top