Fantasy Riptide

[Hercynia]

Nodding at the Tiefling representative's answer, Kaloy sat back in his chair. Seemed like they would be getting some resources after all - although he couldn't deny the mention of a budget worried him a little. Talk of prisoners - the other white-haired elf, he presumed - was intriguing. Property of Servissive Inc. - not an organisation that Kaloy was particularly familiar with. A lapse in his research, it would seem. Perhaps more important to note was the gnome's response to the lunar elf's proposal - he seemed adamantly set against using a void ship, which was... not really an unusual stance. What did strike the elf as unusual was his tonal shift: anger that hinted at something behind the casual tone the gnome had been using, and the hasty cover-up of said anger. Interesting indeed.

Still, the refugee relief plan seemed settled. The lunar elf was apparently to be their pilot, which... well, it didn't worry Kaloy. Made him... wary, perhaps. Pain, the odd tiefling, had doodled an impressively detailed sketch of a ship on the wall where the orc had stood. While it may not have been unanimous agreement, everybody seemed fairly content with the plan - pretend to work under the West-Galactic Benefaction, get into the city, and then... what? Presumably they'd figure out the rest there, which seemed... chaotic, but perhaps it would be beneficial to do it away from the unknown number of potential eyes - a room they had not chosen, in a place Kaloy didn't trust. At least it was in Mizen's domain.

A thought flitted across Kaloy's mind - he could probably offer to get in alone, take it the artifact, and vanish. Then, on second consideration; dismissing the thought. As the angry man had shown, offers to go in alone would be quickly rebuffed, or countered. None of them particularly trusted eachother, understandably. The representative's comments about conflicting loyalties came to mind too - appearing as a committed team member would likely be better, at least for the moment. Better to take the artifact and vanish later - in any case, an opportunity to do so would surely arise. And if not, Kaloy would just have to create it.

For now the elf continued to sit back quietly - he didn't have anything to add, so... might as well watch, for now.

 

[Lyro]

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[/div][div class=title]Verillis[/div] [div class=mentions]Mentioned: C.DEX Emibow C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX Kenji Jensai duergar [/div] [/div][/div]

..

What little color was left in the tiefling's pale gray face was thoroughly drained by Pane's scribblings on the wall. The shock kept him from stepping in or giving an order to the nearby guards, who looked expectantly at him, ready to dole out a punishment swiftly if required. Finally, Pane finished his sketch, and the bureaucrat let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. "Yes, should come right off..." he said weakly as he took in the drawing's uncanny realism. "I'm not sure we can get that precise model, but your request will be passed along." He coughed and attempted to regain some composure as he turned away from the drawing and returned to his own seat.

"Very well, then. You will pose as a relief effort, on a ship we will provide. It will take a few days to prepare everything. Afterwards, you will mostly be on your own. Secure communication lines to and from Isyn are few and far between. There may not be any opportunities for further exchanges once you are through the blockade. We will provide you with an information packet containing all the essentials. When we are ready, we will reach out to you and you will have one last day to prepare. Until then, you are not to contact each other in any way. You don't know anyone in this room, you were never here, etc., etc.. We are done here. Farewell, and may you ride gentle currents."

OOC: The next three days will be spent on your own. Your character will not have any contact with the others, unless I have reached out to you privately to say otherwise. You may now describe in one post how your character prepares for the mission (tying up loose ends, choosing simple additional equipment using the limited Tiffrel budget...). If you haven't posted yet, post as if your character was debriefed in a follow-up session that basically summed up what happened here. Some of you should hold up posting until I have roleplayed special interactions with you (I'll have contacted you about this already). Feel free to reach out to me if you have questions.

 

[Tardy Grade]

Pane(Tardy) and 'Handzo'(Not real name)(Lyro)

The room Pane was ushered into by the diminutive masked guard was very different from any other part of the station he had seen so far. The air within was heavy with humidity, the temperature being several degrees hotter than the corridor just outside. There was a faint smell of rot coming from somewhere, though the room's complete darkness prevented him from seeing much. He could just barely make out the shapes of vegetation around him as if he had suddenly entered a jungle on a moonless night. Within the darkness, however, there lay a deeper, greater darkness - one which moved, one which spoke.

"Be a dear, Aliserre, and close the door behind us," it said in an echoing, strained voice that spoke of untold centuries of age. The guard behind Pane promptly swung the entrance door shut, cutting off the only source of light and plunging Pane into total darkness. "My apologies for these conditions, little one," said the now-invisible creature, whose voice now seemed to be coming from everywhere at once. "Your galaxy's species, unfortunately, went down evolutionary paths vastly different from our own. My kind does not favour the light, especially at my age."

Pane kept remarkably quiet throughout the transport. While he would have liked to sate his appetite after the meeting he knew that this likely couldn’t have been postponed. ‘Damn plot development...’, he sighed internally as he saw the masked guard follow the stranger’s request without missing a beat.

“I take it this isn’t the salad bar? Ehehe...” he chuckled warily as his eyes darted from green to green. Finding remarkably less ‘grey’ as one would associate with a ship. Maybe he’d been taken down the rabbit hole? Was that guard a rabbit-folk? Now he had the biggest urge to chase down the masked figure and search him for timepieces…

It was an attractive thought but he managed to corral his thoughts enough to focus on the more present issue with the looming disembodied voice. Enough of those already in his life thankyouverymuch!

“If it’s any consolation ‘light’ ain’t that big a deal. Very overhyped. I see well in the dark you know… so…” his eyes rapidly adjusted. Still unable to pinpoint the figure.

Then, to his left, the darkness seemed to shift, and for the first time, he was able to get a proper look at his interlocutor. Or, at least, a less indecent one. For one thing, it towered above him, easily twice his height. For another, it seemed to have an unnecessary amount of appendages, all of which splayed out from it in seemingly random directions, some of them even resting against the ceiling to stabilize the bulky creature. If it had eyes or a face, Pane could not locate it; he could not even be sure he was looking at its front if it had one. Its skin was covered in tiny scales, interspersed with small, softer-looking white patches. This creature was very clearly not from around here.

"Very good," it said with something that could have been a chuckle, though no mouth could be seen that would have spoken those words. "I see I was not mistaken. I was watching you throughout the meeting, you know. Well, we all were. I'm sure the others have already singled out some of your fellows for their own one-on-one chats. But they're interested in tools. I'm interested in you."

-------------

Recalling the conversation and replaying it in his mind had become routine for Pane over the three days before they departed. He spent much of the time after being thrown out of the room working on scenarios that might come to be. Weapon failure. Distrust. Betrayal. Sordid affairs. Space pirates. Each one dealt with in a manner so serious that most people that saw him walked away. You'd think he was writing their names down in a hitlist given the speed at which they left him alone.

He shook his head. "As if I'd waste paper writing the name of dead men..."

 

[Fletchawk]

[div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Groth Roo'ken
Location:
Rented Private Quarters
Tags:
[/div][/div]
The usual low repeating beep was what alerted Groth to the incoming message on his datapad although he didn't react immediately to it. Practicing his ability to call upon The Stream wasn't something that he liked to interrupt. Slowly he reduced the flow as he brought his focus to the small personal space that he had rented out for his stay on the station. Small was generous word, being that the cot he sat on took up the majority of the room, but he didn't trust the room that had been offered by his employers. Regardless, it suited his needs.

Groth wiped his brow and upper body with a towel he'd prepared for his session, allowing his mind to recovering from the fog that had enveloped it before turning his attention to the now clearer alert on his datapad. Using his biometrics to unlock it, Groth found himself looking at the array of dossiers that he'd been looking at earlier, something that the Tiffrel executive had given him and his 'collaborator' for the purpose of keeping the mission from being derailed. His nose wrinkled in disgust for a split second when the meeting replayed in his head. The dossiers weren't perfect as evidenced by his own file, but it still portrayed parts of his Judicator career. Not enough to disprove current guise, but it could be used to call his motives into question. He had sent a copy of the files to IDJD to see what they could provide.

Hoping that the message was in response to his inquiry, he swiped the dossiers aside to open it. While it was indeed a response, it wasn't what he was expecting. Instead of a multitude of updated dossiers, there was only one and it was rather extensive. Along with a large number of redacted mission files, there were vids and large number of photos. The majority of them dated older than himself. There was no mistaking the person in question, although it initially caught Groth off-guard.

The message accompanying these files was as following:

Judicator Roo'ken,

The operating objectives have been amended in light of the recent information that been procured. An individual has been identified among the group that the Operative is in association with for the duration of the current mission. This individual is to be brought back into the fold of Imer Dallis, coerced if necessary. While the primary objective still takes precedence, acquisition of this individual is not optional. All pertinent information will be attached to this message.

Groth kneaded the bridge of his nose as he processed his new objective. 'Reclamation of an individual' was something that Groth had been rather adept at doing, but in combination of the current primary objective and the individual's background made this rather difficult, especially if the person decided to not come peacefully. He was going to have to approach this with care. After sending a message stating that he understood his new orders, Groth minimized his datapad and placed it on his belt laying on the floor. He quickly overviewed his equipment and it came to his attention that he would be ill-prepared for this kind of confrontation if it came to that, and decided that he would need to do some last minute shopping.

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[Jeda Teq]

After receiving the controller Arx saluted the guards as they departed. He looked a the device in his hand than to Jay. Memories of his time in The Orphanage flashed through his mind. Not of training but of his siblings who had lost all sense of awareness and emotion that they were consumed by the void. Sadness, fear, anger are all emotions that stirred inside him. His expression still cold and distant let none of it out. Just like his face he suppressed the inner turmoil that brewed inside him. Back to the calm steady wave that was an Arx. "I'm granting you three days of liberty. Do with it as you please. I highly recommend you prepare for the upcoming mission. You are to report to my quarters every morning and evening. DO NOT have me come searching for you. "

Jay looked back at Arx with a raised eyebrow. “Ha. I’d love for you to try,” she said, with a lightness that belied the seriousness of Arx’s command. Her expression reeked of insolence, and her mannerisms issued their own challenge. Although her eyes, Arx saw, were bright, he also saw that there was a little bit of an empty gray in the shining blue. Like the smallest hints of an old, worn starship peeking through the layers of refurbishment and paint. So thinly perceptible that Arx only recognized it because he saw it in the mirror every day.

Then she turned and it was gone. “I’ll be off now. Got business to take care of. Call me if you need me,” she said over her shoulder with a wave, sauntering off further down the metal deck. Her footsteps clicked with against the metal until she turned the corner, and then, they too were gone.

Arx left soon after Jay. Much preparation was required for the mission ahead. Arx made a trip to the infirmary. His order of nutrition injections had arrived. It was enough to last two weeks. Meals may be scarce while they were out. Suffering from malnutrition could interfere with clear thought while in the field. He had also acquired an IV pack of morphine and a pack of adrenaline. He drained the packs into special compartments of his suits. If the situation called for it his suit would apply them as needed. After completing his emergency medical kit Arx made a trip to the armory. Stocking up on bullets was vital. The selection of guns was slim. He managed to obtain a rifle which would allow him to shoot targets at a further distance than his pistol. There was nothing special about it. After a few hours of weapon maintenance Arx spend a few more in the simulator practicing his sharpshooting. He spent the rest of the day training; he could be seen and heard running around the ship singing cadence.

The next morning Arx retired to his room. He entered Mode R of his suite and was unavailable for the next twenty-four hours. After his self induced coma He felt refreshed and revitalized. His mody no longer aching from his long run and any injuries he had were now minor. The first thing he did was check the log book he had left for Jay's check ins. Today was the start of their mission, but first he had to grab some chow. No need to waste his rations now.

 

[Kenji Jensai]

Alan "Cruel Heart" Cheshire
Location: Castle Prison

Alan remembred the day he was caputred vividly. Those pathetic excuses for arbiters, thinking to imprison one such as himself? They had clearly thought so. He'd been amused, at first, at their insolence. And then shocked, as they systematically stormed his lab, slaughtering or capturing his subordinates. He tried to escape but they'd managed to trap him in a dead-end. He'd been dumbfounded by the time they carted him to the Castle, a prison they'd rigged for the worst offenders within the CommonWealth, chained so tightly to the floor of the truck that he couldn't move. He spent the first hours of his new arrangements racking his brain for hours, about how they learned the location of his underground facility.

The past five months since then were despicable to say the least.

He sat cross-legged, as always, motionless. His eyes were closed. It wasn't as though there were anything to see. It would be the same sight as ever - a row of tight-packed adamantium rods, and the narrow door he had been thrust through . Beyond that, all that was visible from his dismal cage was plain, bare metal.
His legs were stiff again. It was time to switch. Obligingly, he rose, walking a brief lap around the pen. His eyes never opened. He didn't need them to. The cage was large enough to allow him to walk, but no more than five of his strides. His lap completed, he returned to the cold ground. Laying, this time. This was the same routine as always. Sit. Stew on his thoughts. Walk a lap. Lay down. Stew on his thoughts. Walk a lap. Stand. Stew on his thoughts. Then back to sitting.

Alan mulled his plight over in his head, one more time. And then he rose, walking another lap around the cage.
Something went plink in the darkness.He froze. His ears twitched. It was a tiny noise, one easily-overlooked. But in a world that hadn't known a noise beyond the padding of his feet in what must surely have been centuries, it rang out as loud as a bell.In the dim greyness of the dark cell, he could see dust spiraling down from the wall opposite his door.
The portal. He remembered it well. Once upon a time, it was his signal that he was about to get food and a story. He could hear someone on the far side of it now. They were pushing. Swearing.

"About fucking time." He heard a low voice mutter. "I swear to the five that if I've hurt my shoulder, Torren, I'm going to send you the bill." The sour words rang out painfully loudly. He cracked one eye. The light was still too bright."Oh, stop whining. You're fine." A cheerful voice followed the first. "You've got to get into the spirit, you know?"

"I don't know. I don't. Not if it means- What are you doing? Who's that ?" Footsteps danced across the ground. A searing light blazed down at him, much closer. "It's a special convict , Pierce." Alan laughed. It was the first time he'd used his voice in forever. The sound bubbled up from his belly. Alan could see them, now. One blonde-haired young man and an Orc with militaresque tattoos, both dressed in the best synth-armor money could buy. Alan wrinkled his nose. One of them held a ball of light.

"Ohh I've heard rumors about you, eh?" The Orc rumbled. Slowly Alan rose and stretched his limbs. The pair easily stood a head higher than him.
"Hmm what a sorry state the brilliant Cheshire, has been reduced too. Damn, would look at that the look in his eyes, its the same one you give an insect" The one holding the light said. It was the cheerful one - Torren? Alan could tell that the orc was sizing him up, seeing if the rumors could turn out to be true. "Shut the fuck up, Torren." His friend hissed. His eyes were wide. He was looking at Alan as if the latter was armed or possed some sort of bomb. "This is Alan Cheshire, infamous terrorist leader of Tone. We should not take chances."

"Infamous." Alan repeated, his voice long and drawn out. "I take it by your appearance you're the new shift?" He smiled mirthlessly. "You're tardy. I'm famished." One hand clenched the bars. "Torren, maybe we should tranq him you know, just to be sure." Pierce said. His voice was overloud and afraid. He was already backing up, backing away from Alan. The Adamantium barrier was open behind him. Alan could see the faintly lighter room behind him. Somewhere, somewhere close, there was light again.
"He's not going anywhere, Pierce." Torren chuckled. He was completely at ease, inspecting the famed terrortist. Alan wasn't much to look at. Once, he'd been dressed in a black and gold lab coat made with tough yet comfortable nanofibers. Now, they'd reduced him to a simple jumpsuit.

Torren stepped closer, grinning.
"Well Mr.Cheshire, it seems that you have been condemed of all charges placed against you. Hmm quite a list of accomplishments: twenty counts of extortion, thirteen counts of money laundering, eight counts of armed robbery & and charges for over a dozen murders. Well looks like the higherups are trying to bury you. But hey you won't even be able to serve it all!" Torren waited to hear Alan's reply but all he could see forming was a look of pity, the same look one would give when they saw a starving orphan. The reason for the look was because, Torren had not noticed that his blonde-haired compatriot has drawn his sidearm, pointed at the back of Torren's head and pulled the trigger. The body fell to the ground with a sound thud. The betrayer kneeled in front of Alan's cell. "Master, I apologize for all by making you wait for so long, we had difficulty locating your cell. After we escape from here we shall flee toward Tiffrel as you planned."

With a click the adamantium bar slid open, and entering the cell Pierce, handed Alan his tools. Muramasa a high-frenquency blade, AWF wristed mounted blaster and finally the C81 Ghost, Alan's custom designed combat exoskeleton. Donning his suit and equiping his weapons, Alan walked out of his cell, saying one phrase to his new cohort "That brute of theirs should have known that when people think your a monster you don't have to do monstrous things."

​

​

 

[Hercynia]

While his probably unwilling compatriot likely pored over files and looked disgruntled - Kaloy still hadn't gotten over that impression of him - Kaloy planned. Not that he hadn't read the files - they were... intriguing, to say the least, and painted interesting pictures of who he could align with, who would probably shoot or arrest him on the spot, and those who fit the bill that the Tiffrel executive had given them. But there was more to be done, more to do, than reading. For example, conserving the sorely lacking budget, and shoring up the pitiful funds with one of his many accounts - this one with rather less money than he'd like, but alas: the less money in the account, the less money that could go "missing".

Kaloy didn't trust. Not people, not places. His suite was nice, but it was likely by no means safe from prying eyes. The executive had more or less flat-out admitted that they'd been watched in the first boardroom - there was no reason to assume nobody had eyes or ears on them in private spaces as long as they were being provided. In fact, the elf would bet their employers had eyes and ears on them everywhere on the station - he'd do the same, were he in their position. The rest of the days were spent planning, lurking, getting to feel the lay of the land. The station seemed heavily... corporate, businesses everywhere, with living quarters being small, cramped - Kaloy's was no exception, although it was by no means uncomfortable. Still, it was in Mizen's territory. Small reassurance, but... reassurance nonetheless. The storm that had been raging outside the boardroom was likely still going on - the interesting gnome had said it was... Sillis/Mizen, hadn't he?

That was another topic that Kaloy kept coming back to - the gnome's reaction, back when the purple-skinned elf had spoken about void ships. He had arguably given away the most out of anybody in the team. Him and the angry human, that was - the angry human who was, in Kaloy's opinion, still the least trustworthy of all. Solo mission and background information indeed. The... odd tiefling was also a loose cannon. The elf could at least trust the military man's intentions a little - he didn't seem like he could lie to save his life - although wether he'd make an ally was... unlikely. Too invested in "honor" or "justice", most likely. The same went for the orc. The fairy - pixie? - too - she seemed unpredictable. Hadn't spoke much, although she'd made a few decent points. Said something about translating?

Then there were the potential allies - the other elf, imprisoned, that had provoked the angry human so - the lunar elf too, who had sat back and made snide comments and forced the gnome's... distaste? No, more... obvious hatred of the shadow into the light. Perhaps there would be more team members to come, too - maybe friendly, maybe hostile.

Ideas to keep in mind, maybe potential lines of inquiry to pursue. But not now. Not on this station, with it's eyes and ears lurking in every corner. Doubtless their ship would be the same, but nevertheless, until they reached Isyn, Kaloy wanted to be careful.

 

[Lyro]

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[/div][div class=title]Verillis[/div] [div class=mentions]Mentioned: C.DEX Emibow C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX Kenji Jensai duergar The Gunrunner [/div] [/div][/div]

..

Three days later...

It had been decided that the ship would approach Isyn from the Loreh side, much to Verillis' annoyance. The official reason that had been given was that it would make it harder for any would-be observers to notice their approach, but Verillis didn't buy that for a minute. The ship they had obtained looked like any of the countless other ships circling Isyn of late, a model that closely matched the one Pane had singled out, but smaller. He also had no doubt that the Republic, ever cautious, had taken the usual precautions, and that nobody would know of their approach - at least, nobody who shouldn't know.

No, he thought, as he looked around the ship's old, mismatched subsystems and faded paint. The only reason they were on this rust bucket of a ship, currently being piloted by the lunar elf Jeune, was because it had been cheap. Because no one in their right mind would ever want to experience a...

"Broadcast. Initiating. In. Thirty. Seconds." came the stilted robotic voice of the ship's Broadcast drive, which had been regularly chiming in with the state of the countdown. Verillis looked around at the others around him, wondering if they all felt the same way about this mode of FTL travel. Apart from Jeune, who was holed up in the pilot's seat above them, all of them were strapped to evenly spaced-out seats attached to the circular room's single wall. In front of all of them, in the center of the room, lay the engine itself - a massive, glowing pillar that shimmered with unearthly light. Ever since the countdown had been initiated, it had begun glowing more and more intensely, as more and more of Loreh's power was siphoned into it.

He gazed out one of the ship's portholes, yet couldn't see anything but inky blackness. They were still far out in interstellar space, having completed the previous Broadcast just minutes ago. He still felt sick from it. Why they couldn't broadcast directly to Isyn, he didn't know - it was probably something only ship pilots would understand.

"Here we go again," he said with a sigh, tightening the restraints as he prepared once more to have his atoms scrambled across the galaxy. "I hope you're all recovered from the last one."

 

[Sir Swigglesworth]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: Cargo ship
Mood: Calm and relaxed
Status: Present and accounted for
Tags: Lyro C.DEX Tardy Grade Lexielai Fletchawk Jeda Teq Hercynia fluticasone Kenji Jensai duergar The Gunrunner
[/div][/div][div class=title]Vincent "Shade" Lacroia[/div][div class=text]Now with these past 3 days of preparation and relaxation having finally passed by, Vincent sat among the other mercenaries all strapped in and awaiting arrival. The man glanced down to his side and gazed at his supply belt and leaned back to feel his blade attached to his back. Their last 3 days had been spent preparing for what would come on the planets surface, regularly praying to and communicating with Tekket, and sparring people he could find on the station, including guards. Vincent then took a gander at his hands and cracked their knuckles audibly and smiled subtly beneath their suit.

Hearing the ships automated voice systems mention the coming of another broadcast and then Verillis stating hope that everyone had recovered from the last warp, Vincent chuckled faintly. His audio outputs faintly disrupted his voice just as they usually did and he turned their head to glance at Verillis. "Oh yeah, it's quick recovery having just had your atoms disassembled and strewn across the galaxy only to form back into what makes you you. But then again, those of us here who travel a lot would be use to that now wouldn't they? Ugh, still doesn't help get rid of that loose feeling though." Vincent's initial words were spoken with a witty tone whereas his last sentence had taken a more serious sense to it as he commented about the odd feeling these warps leave you with.

Suffice to say, they might not be pleasant to some, but it definitely made for quick and efficient travel, something that surprised him about this bucket of a ship. Vincent sorta missed his own personal ship, all his weapoooons, their foooood, more weapoooons, his contracts and "trophies", all his own stuff. That was all left back in the docks at the space station, while he missed it he also had confidence no schmuck would steal due to his automated security systems. At the thought of that, a small smile crossed his face underneath their suit as they looked back on the time he returned to his ship only to find the shredded remains of a would be thief. "Heheh...dumbass." Vincent muttered to himself at this thought.[/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div]

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[fluticasone]

For once, the ship had seats designed for various species. She was used to the broadcast travel; it was a preferred method when many of Fin Qillis' fairies worshipped Loreh. That said, she could understand how others might find discomfort in it. She'd had many friends who'd wound up vomitting after their first broadcast. The rusty bucket was a poor excuse of a ship and barely space-worthy. She found herself wondering why they kept such things around when fairies could create better ones at the drop of a hat.

The engine glowed and warned of their next warp. Asya had made the distinct effort to stay away from the man she now knew as Vince, choosing to tune him out as he spoke. She was currently seated next to Jay, as she'd been the least... strange, for lack of a better term, of the group Tiffrel had gathered.

As the engine counted down, she looked to Verillis in mild sympathy. "Well, you'd better brace yourselves now." The pillar emitted light to an almost blinding level, and they were sent. The broadcast itself felt like nothing; it was the after that threw many off guard. Even if she was used to the mode of travel, she'd never been exposed to so many in consecutive order. Likely a limitation of the engine in front of her. A weaker engine, harnessing less power from their source, in this case Loreh, which made for shorter broadcasts. It was simple enough for her to wrap her mind around, but she cursed the limitations of non-mana tech.

"Just how much farther are we?"

 

[Jeda Teq]

Strapped in, Arx held himself tightly. His body writhed with pain since their first jump. Slow shaky breaths came from his mouth as he focused on enduring the pain. It was nothing he wasn't accustomed to. The aches as his body tried to hold itself together was a daily phenomenon for the soldier. This method of FTL travel simply amplified the struggle. He glanced to his right at Jay he hadn't received much trouble from her, outside the stench of alcohol she she seemed pretty cooperative. As the engine prepared for its next jump he squeezed himself tighter and clenched his teeth. This misery loop was sure to end soon.

 

[Kenji Jensai]

Alan "Cruel Heart" Cheshire
Location: Cargo Ship Tags: Lyro C.DEX Tardy Grade Lexielai Fletchawk Jeda Teq Hercynia fluticasone duergar The Gunrunner

Alan's eyes rested upon the man in front of him. The calculated stare he recieved, did not phase him in the slightest. Judging by his posture and body language, he could tell that the man was cautious. He didn't trust anyone aboard this ship, but he could acknoweledge the man's intuition. He tried to remember the man's name. Kylo or was it Kae'el, no matter he thought, he would watch and listen.

His eyes moved to rest on Vincent, one who he had hired on more than a few ... eventful occasions. Such occasions were often chaotic and destructive. Not that Alan had any complaints to that. It was often liberating to simply let off steam on a few occasions such as those, where he could use his talents to their full capabilities. Vincent seemed fairly straightforward to Alan, the open and honest type if anything else. He wasn't sure if he got along with the man because they rarely said anything to one another. Even so, Vincent was one that had proved to be skilled at his job so Alan didn't have anything to say against him anyway.

The last person he could make out from his position was the female tiefling, Acantha. Much alike Vincent, she was average in stature but very effective at what she did. Although there jobs hadn't brought them together, he had also purchased her services in getting around to more than a few sites for analysis in the past. She seemed grounded and capable, so Alan simply left it at that. However, he did have some concerns as to her relations to the republic and how she used it. Not that it didn't achieve results, but more on how it would affect his own plans.

For a brief moment, Alan wondered if he should try to strike up a conversation to anyone who was currently at an convenient distance away from him. After a moment of consideration, he decided to not worry about it and instead chose to brace himself . If anyone wanted conversation, they would contact him. He closed his eyes and awaited for the broadcast to happen. He hated the feeling it gave him, he compared it to having a rusty snail, slowly inserted into his ear. He pressed a button on his suit which caused his helmet to encompass his face, concealing it from others.

​

 

[The Gunrunner]

Durvatesh

Durvatesh sat alone in the dark room, the cloak tossed to a corner in the room. A plain screwdriver creaks and whines against a few pieces inside the militanta's left arm, an access hatch flipped over from under the forearm. "One, two, three, four" he counts, noting the number of rotations before the gear locks. The moment it does, Durvatesh's arm seems to fill with power. It is a familiar feeling; the piece that, in part, activates the apex of his strength during combat. He screws the gear in the opposite direction now, counting yet again.

Three days. That's how much time he was notified to have before their departure, apparently hiding under the guise of a relief effort. A low, electronically distorted chuckle crackles through his transmitter. "Relief," he copies humourously. He was not part of the meeting at the time; he was... late, simply. It didn't matter much - He had his briefing sent to him, and the talks of smuggling and infiltration were not things he could support enough to be useful; typically blunt and to the point, one may put it. Hiding is hard to do when you look a certain way. There are a few more clicks, and the arm relaxes. Durvatesh nods, the box containing his skull turning to the side to peer over a set of notes - The lenses held in his sockets rotate, refocusing on the page. A list of tasks present themselves; 'Waste,' 'Hydration,' 'Nutrition,' 'Weapons systems,' 'Sensors,' and so on. This list, of course, repeatedly reminds him to pay homage to the gods that keep his body functioning. Thankfully, that process had been completed - It was a tedium, and a lengthy one at that. Of course he is grateful for their continuing magics, but one can not deny the time it takes regardless. He lifts his arm into sight, closing the hatch as his mind retreats to thoughts of what is to come. "Killing a god..." his transmitter crackles, before a short laugh broken by static cuts through the room, "Quite a relief to bring."


Durvatesh was strapped to one of the chairs in the back, covered head-to-toe in his cloak. Rough stitching shows at various points where combat or rough handling provided too much strain, though it was enough to cover him. Gloved hands merely rest on the knees, waiting for the next jump. To an observer, the figure was still - Calm, collected, and unaffected by the effects of the broadcast. However, this was merely an effect of Durvatesh's mind losing its grip; underneath, he was thankful he no longer had the ability to vomit, for he was certain the floor would be covered if he was still a hazari. "I hope you're all recovered from the last one," he hears, instinctively nearly about to speak, though he decides against it. Two others speak, though it did not seem to be towards him. He braces for the next jump, though thankful that the sickly feeling in his stomach would be the worst of his pains for the day... hopefully.

 

[Fletchawk]

[div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Groth 'Rook' Roo'ken
Location:
Loreh Ship
Tags:

[/div][/div]
Groth completed what preparations he could. While not ideal, due to the lack of quilty military hardware on the station, they'd have to do. The small crate of extra equipment sat near the aft of the craft adjacent to his own seat. The contents weren't critical but he'd rather it not disappear, which he felt was a distinct possibility given the members of the group. While a few spoke a after the first jump, he had no inclination to join in as a combination of slight nausea and a pounding headache. This didn't stop him from looking around and noticing a couple of new figures, though he cared little at the moment.

Though he was used to different types of interstellar travel, Loreh's 'Broadcast' was always his least favorite by far. This would be the reason be for the low grunt of disdain when reminded of the second 'Broadcast'. "Ugh... Damn this blasted scrap heap."
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[Lexielai]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Sobriety: Almost Tipsy
Tags: fluticasone Lyro Fletchawk Jeda Teq [/div][/div][div class=title]Jayla "Jay" Dawnstrider[/div][div class=text]Jay groaned. She sat nearby Asya with her seat tilted back as far as it would go, nursing her head with one hand and carrying a half empty bottle of liquor in the other. “There’s a reason I never come to this part of the galaxy,” she said.

With a quick swig from her handle she downed another quarter of the bottle. From the corner of her eye, she caught Arx glancing at her. He had been behaving alright thus far. She never went to any of those “mandatory” checks-in he demanded, but she did give him a cheeky, half-assed apology after. Maybe he had accepted it. Jay didn’t know, and didn’t particularly care. The sooner this mission was over, the sooner she could get out of here.

“Need a drink, Verillis? It’ll help you ease the nerves,” she offered with a darkly amused smile. “Maybe you want one too...Rook, was it?”

Jay lazily dangled the unmarked, unlabelled bottle out with the tips of her fingers. She had gotten it from a shady bar in a local black market, after knocking out a couple of assholes who tried stirring up some trouble. She only interfered because they knocked over her drink, but the owner was appreciative enough to offer her a crate of his special supply. The hint of a spicy aroma emerging from her open bottle hinted at the marvelous taste of said supply. It was good, for sure, and went down smooth like wine. But Jay preferred something stronger.
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[Lyro]

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[/div][div class=title]Verillis[/div] [div class=mentions]Mentioned: C.DEX Emibow C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX Kenji Jensai duergar The Gunrunner [/div] [/div][/div]

..

"Who knows how far away we are with this ship?" Verillis said in answer to Asya. He looked at her out of the corner of his natural eye. The past few days had been spent mostly in meditation and prayer for the gnome, but he had spared some time to think about his newfound acquaintances - the fairy in particular. He hadn't had opportunities to work with many fairies before, as they tended to keep among themselves. If this one had managed to escape Qillis's domain, as he suspected, he had to wonder who exactly he was working with.

"All I know is the sooner my feet are back on terra firma, the happier I'll be. Scrap heap, indeed." He looked at the drink that was being offered to him, then shrugged and reached over to pick it up. "The Gods favor the bold," he said with a smile, just before taking a swig of the bottle's contents. Years of drinking to forget what had yet to come had provided him with some experience of the galaxy's many varieties of alcohol, but this one was new to him. He coughed as the effect hit him. "Aah, strong stuff," he said in between fits of coughing. "Does it have a name?"

"Broadcast."

The blazing column in the center suddenly flared out, along with every other light on the ship, plunging them into total darkness. The vessel trembled as it exited normspace and entered that sliver of reality where the impossible materializes more easily. A faint light began to emanate from every porthole, one which seemed to have no source. Verillis grimaced as something about himself seemed to alter, and that queasy, not-quite-right feeling of having your mind replicated a trillionfold returned. As the Broadcast neared completion, he became aware of an infinite number of copies of himself, each of them aware of their fellow copies, yet all sharing the same mind. It was a disquieting, unnatural sensation, one which the alcohol could only partially dull, and yet one which paled with what came next.

With a snap that was almost entirely unimagined, the ship trembled again, and all aboard experienced a sinking sensation in their stomachs as it felt like the ship began to fall. A dull red light switched on, bathing the room in a soft, burgundy red glow that contrasted with the color-flawed light from beyond the ship, highlighting its unreality. The sinking feeling became a compressing one, as the passengers felt their bodies being fused back together once more. For a moment, it felt like Verillis was going to asphyxiate, as every part of his respiratory system was squeezed from every direction.

And then it was over. The light without vanished, the lights within returned to normal,
and Verillis was left staring at his white-knuckled hands gripping his seat's armrests. He then quickly looked over the rest of his body, checking that no organs had been misplaced in the broadcast, followed by a quick mental prayer of thanks to Sillis and Loreh for the safe passage. With a slow, cautious turn of his head, he looked out of the window, and there it lay: Isyn, the Jewel of the West, the Scarred Planet, and home of the Aureate Skies.

It was still some distance away, but even from their vantage point its most distinct feature was visible: shimmering patches of light, unevenly spaced out in orbit around the planet, hovering like gargantuan golden clouds over the planet's arid surface. A planet of ancient beauty, layered mystery and enduring strife. They were still much too far away to make out any of the armadas battling in orbit around the planet, but Verillis knew they were there, waging a war that could never end.

"Well, that answers that," he quipped to Asya.

 

[Tardy Grade]

There weren't a lot of things that left Pane in a state of euphoria that was unrelated to the written word. So when something did have that effect on him you can bet your bottom credits that i-

"Broadcast. Initiating. In. Ten. Seconds." continued the B.D. system completely ignoring the back and forth occurring between all the occupants.

Pane's legs criss-crossed in sync with the seconds called out beat for beat. He couldn't tell why the others seemed to abhor the chance to feel the touch of Loreh so much. It was a privilege. Only less formal ... like getting your mother or father to lift you as a child and spun around. Sure you might feel a bit whoozy after but wasn't that just a part of the experience? And a parent was hardly a stranger to a little sputum coming from their 'wombling' every so often.

The engine's blurry image and warm aura bathed Pane's pale frame. He'd spread his arms wide if not for the fact he might end up poking someone's face in the process. Worse so if he made contact just as they transferred leading in a possibly bigger issue than ejection of bolus. It did cross his mind to say something along the lines of 'Something doesn't feel right!' just as they left and project a sense of imminent disaster among his teammates... you know ... to lighten the mood. Levity and all that.

But Friest seemed to be in a rather foul mood given Loreh's spotlight time. Something a casual observer would likely be unable to tell given Friest's rather ... mono-emotional persona. Possibly the most subtle God that ever graced the star-laden space connecting planet to planet.

"Rejoice, friends! For Loreh will speak our names and summon us to our needed destination." In reaction to Ver and the others who seemed to be sharing bleaker thoughts about an otherwise gala-of-an-experience!

"We will be words on her lips for the most joyous of moments. Rejoice and hope she doesn't get your name wrong!" Pane's laughter and exuberance was hard to ignore as they blinked into-and-out-of

Pane
​

...he imagined her say. "Again please, my Mistress! Ag-" he pleaded even as the sweat on his forehead pooled out and his head throbbed from the shifting of all that he was comprised off.

Pane​

The others looked affected but still not at a level that would debilitate them. Obviously not strangers to the form of travel. Colour seemed to lose all semblance of reason as Pane tried to keep from blinking. From missing out even a moment! He sensed his mind spread out and split again and again. However even in the maddened state that Pane found himself his other iterations all shared the same blissful smile. Wild and deranged. A chorus of white teeth that seemed to go on forever before snapping back into place one last time.

Pa-​

His body slackened as sweat spots quickly made themselves evident on his fabric-covered frame.

"Nnnn..."

 

[Fletchawk]

[div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Groth 'Rook' Roo'ken
Location:
Loreh Ship
Tags:
Lexielai Tardy Grade Lyro
[/div][/div]
Groth slowly looked over the elf offering to share whatever was in the bottle to Verillis and himself. "No thank you, not much of drinker." Perhaps the headache had delayed his thought process a bit or he was just being too cautious, but he chided himself for not accepting the drink and becoming familiar with those he was going to be rubbing shoulders with, even if they weren't his usual sort of crowd. His attention however was quickly drawn to the eccentric Tiefling as he seemed to have a fit of some sort. Groth thought at first that Pane had broken down into a panicked state, but the smile and laughter corrected him to that it was likely a fit of hysterical rapture.

Disturbed by the ongoing display, he rethought his stance on the drink that was offered and signalled Verillis to pass the bottle his way. "On second thought, perhaps I'll have some. To calm the nerves if nothing else." Groth nodded his thanks to the gnome as he was handed the bottle before he raised it to towards Jay's direction to make sure he garnered her attention. "My thanks, Ms. Dawnstrider." He had intended to gage her reaction while he drank, but the heat of the alcohol quickly unfocused him as it burned his throat. Managing to swallow the mouthful before coughing, he handed it back to Jay. "Woof, I wasn't expecting the heat of that one."

It wasn't long before they arrived at their destination. Isyn. He'd seen it once before in person a few years ago, but he'd never actually set foot on the planet as his business was on one of the staging stations that orbited the planet and even then it was difficult bureaucratic trek of red tape and confidentiality contracts. Groth shuddered slightly to the unpleasant recollection. Fortunately, the Tiefling had reached the height of his frenzy and was no longer conscious. Though he was mildly concerned, he thought it best to wait check on Pane until after they had fully arrived.

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[Sir Swigglesworth]

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Location:
Cargo ship in proximity of Isyn.
Mood: Disturbed somewhat
Status: Scrambled
Tags: Tardy Grade Lexielai
[/div][/div][div class=title]Vincent "Shade" Lacroia[/div][div class=text]Vincent was more than accustomed to forms of travel such as this, but he had never found pleasure in it by any means. Unlike someone just over yonder....Vincent could feel as his body was torn apart on the molecular level only to be reassembled near their destination, Isyn. During the whole broadcast, all else he was aware of was Pane's manic display and was more or less disturbed by the scene. It certainly wasn't the worst he's had the pleasure of observing, but nonetheless it had been odd enough to strike him with chills.

At the end of the broadcast Vincent shook their body sharply for a moment before throwing out their arms and legs to stretch while at the same time trying to make sure he was reassembled properly. Even a token "Brbrbrbrbr" came from the mans mouth as they shook their head to regain his consciousness fully. Glancing around, Vincent could see everyone else had made it okay as well and gave a subtle sigh of relief. "Welp, can't deny Loreh her thanks for that one. But thank Tekket for the watchful eye over me..." Were Vincent's thoughts before they saw Jay offering a drink to a few nearby others, and considering he'd enjoy a sharp kick to disregard what he had just seen from Pane; He decided to ask kindly after fiddling with his wrist device to disengage their helmet and reveal his face for the first time.

"Hey Jay, ya mind tossing me the bottle? I could go for a sharp kick right about now after the scene Pane just made. Also, is he even alright? I can't tell from here but I swear I can smell fried brain..." Vincent's comments were both witty and casual for the moment, meanwhile at the same time wondering if she wouldn't hold a bitter attitude towards him and accepted his apology from earlier before they boarded the ship about his little outburst three days ago. [/div][div class=text][/div][/div][/div][/div]



[class=wrapper]background-color:#2d1414;box-sizing:border-box;color:#FFFFFF;display:inline-block; position:relative;width:100%; text-align: justify;[/class] [class=title]animation:{post_id}glow 1.5s linear infinite alternate;color:#f3c662;font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:3em;font-style:italic;padding:0;text-shadow:0 0 1em;margin-bottom: 10px;[/class] [class=box]margin:2em 1em;padding:2px 4px 0px;position:relative;[/class] [class=boxBg]box-sizing:content-box;height:100%;pointer-events:none;position:absolute;width:100%;[/class][class=boxBgLarge]top:0;left:-5px;padding:0 4px;border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35);[/class] [class=boxBgTall]top:-8px;left:3px;padding:8px 0;width:calc(100% - 8px);height:100%;border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25);[/class] [class=boxBgMedium]top:-4px;left:-1px;padding:4px 0;border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4);[/class] [class=boxInner]background-color:#2d1414;overflow:hidden;margin:0.5em;[/class] [class=statusBox]box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px;[/class] [class=text]padding: 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:0.9em;[/class] [class=statusText]font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:0.9em; margin-top: 5px;[/class] [class=portrait]box-shadow:0 0 0.5em #6a3131;max-width:250px;width:calc(100% - 2.5em);[/class] [class=characterPortrait]box-sizing: border-box;[/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover]opacity: 0.5[/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=click][/class]

 

[Lexielai]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Sobriety: Tipsy
Tags: Fletchawk Sir Swigglesworth Lyro fluticasone [/div][/div][div class=title]Jayla "Jay" Dawnstrider[/div][div class=text]Jay shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, and seemingly produced a second bottle out of thin air. She tossed it over the Vincent as the half-orc, Rook, turned his attention to her. He raised her bottle to her in toast with a nod of thanks. "My thanks, Ms. Dawnstrider," he said. "Woof, I wasn't expecting the heat of that one."

Her blood froze. She sat still for a fleeting moment, carefully burning her blue eyes into Rook’s. She returned a friendly smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Careful, pal. I would hate for you to get burned,” Jay answered nonchalantly, but let her words hang in the air. Just long enough to remain innocuous to the other mercenaries while still letting the half-orc know what she really meant.

She pulled her attention away to the viewscreen, pointedly ignoring Pane’s ramblings. Jay whistled as she commandeered a nearby console as a footrest, and took a moment to take a swig from yet another bottle she seemingly produced from thin air.

“The Scarred Planet. Truly a landmark. Full of the corpses of spaceships and men, creepy ancient ruins, and the tiny gears of war machines pretending to be countries. What a joy,” she commented dryly. Somehow her bottle had lost a quarter of its contents already.

Her eyes turned to glance once at Asya, and then once at Verillis, and her mind began spinning into action. Yet her gaze was distracted, her attention still fused to Rook’s slip—perhaps intentional, perhaps not. Maybe Rook wasn’t even his real name. She had to step carefully, keep her cool, and maintain her cover.

Meanwhile her suspicion of the half-orc bloomed, and justly so. There were a handful of people in the galaxy who remembered the late Jayla Dawnstrider. None of them looked like him.
[/div][/div][/div][/div] [class=wrapper] background-color:#1B1515; box-sizing:border-box; color:#FFFFFF; display:inline-block; position:relative; width:100%; text-align: justify; [/class] [class=title] color: #f3c662; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:3em; font-style:italic; padding:0; text-shadow:0 0 1em; margin-bottom: 10px; [/class] [class=box] margin:2em 1em; padding:2px 4px 0px; position:relative; [/class] [class=boxBg] box-sizing:content-box; height:100%; pointer-events:none; position:absolute; width:100%; [/class] [class=boxBgLarge] top:0; left:-5px; padding:0 4px; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.35); [/class] [class=boxBgTall] top:-8px;left:3px; padding:8px 0; width:calc(100% - 8px); height:100%; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.25); [/class] [class=boxBgMedium] top:-4px; left:-1px; padding:4px 0; border:1px solid rgba(255,255,255,.4); [/class] [class=boxInner] background-color: #1B1515; overflow:hidden; margin:0.5em; [/class] [class=statusBox] box-sizing: border-box; border-right: 3px dotted white; padding: 15px; float: left; max-width: 250px; margin: 0px 15px 15px 0px; [/class] [class=text] padding: 0px 15px 15px 15px; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size:0.8em; [/class] [class=statusText] font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 0.75em; margin-top: 5px; [/class] [class=characterPortrait] box-sizing: border-box; position: relative; border-radius: 20px; overflow: hidden; [/class] [class name=characterPortrait state=hover] opacity: 0.5 [/class]

 

[Lyro]

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[/div][div class=title]Verillis[/div] [div class=mentions]Mentioned: C.DEX Emibow C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX C.DEX Kenji Jensai duergar The Gunrunner [/div] [/div][/div]

..

Verillis shook his head, still feeling the effects of the drink, and looked to Jay just in time to catch her staring at him. He returned her gaze with a smile, but she was already looking away. Had he just missed something? "Don't worry about Pane, Vince," he said in answer to Vincent, shaking off the impression, as he turned to look at the tiefling. "Slight excess of zeal. Happens to the best of us. I am sure he's..." "fine" was what he had been about to say, but as he took in the man's current appearance, he settled instead on "... going to be fine. Meantime!" he concluded with a clap as he reached to his sides and pressed two buttons that released his restraints.

The ship's lights were gradually switching back on from the Broadcast as the autopilot disengaged itself, awaiting manual control once more for its final subluminal approach to the planet surface. Verillis got to his feet and immediately moved to grab the suitcase that lay beneath him. Opening it up, he took off his coat, which he carefully folded, followed by his hat, in turn gently lain upon his coat, and then placed both inside the suitcase. He now wore only the bright blue t-shirt and khaki shorts which, combined with the insignia on his t-shirt's pocket, identified him as a volunteer of the West-Galactic Benefaction. "In case y'all forgot to change before we took off, now would be a good time to do so." He grabbed the spare pair of sneakers from the suitcase, removed his own boots and put them on. "Border patrol's Hounds will have smelled our arrival and they'll be on us soon, so we had best look the part. Well, those of us that can afford to," he added after a pause, pointedly not looking at any one person in the ship.

No sooner had he finished his sentence however than a shadow seemed to fall between them and Isyn, blotting it out from their view, prompting Verillis to peek out the porthole. Just a few dozen meters outside of their ship floated an imposing, black-and-green behemoth of a ship, easily ten times the size of their current vessel. "Speak of the devil," he muttered as he hastily finished putting on his shoes.

A voice rang out from the ship suddenly, one which seemed to pass through the void of space and their ship's hull as though through air. "Unidentified vessel, you are entering Onnedias space. You are hereby ordered to cease your approach and submit for inspection. A shuttle has already been dispatched and will rendez-vous with you shortly. Remain calm."

 

[Hercynia]

Kaloy tried ignore the other's chatter as the countdown ticked towards another Broadcast, sparing only a brief glimpse at the odd tiefling's apparently ecstatic expression as the seconds passed slowly. He didn't... hate Broadcasts, but he'd give a lot for this ship to use Vitrification instead. It was just... better, in so many ways. Maybe not faster, but Kaloy was damn sure it was at the very least safer. He turned his head, and met the gaze of the golden-eyed human opposite, keeping his expression neutral and unreadable. Something about the man seemed... a little off, in some way. Inherently... hm. Kaloy shrugged internally as the man broke eye contact and raised his helmet as the last few seconds ticked down.
"Broadcast."

The lights cut out, and Kaloy closed his eyes with a slight grimace, gripping the seat rests again to spare himself from the unnatural glow that pricked through his eyelids, his stomach twisting and knotting as the unnerving sensation of his atoms duplicating million-fold filled his mind. The seconds stretched into minutes, into hours, before with an almost audible snap the ship fell out of Loreh's unreality and back into the normal plane of existence.

Kaloy blinked, spots swimming in front of his eyes. He still seemed whole. A glance around the ship showed everybody else - expressions a mixture of relief and discomfort, with the exception of those who hid their emotions, and Pane, who was... ah. Perhaps a little too ecstatic. A glance out the window revealed their destination - Isyn. He'd never visited - only ever passing by, but even from here the beautiful haze of the Aureate Skies were visible. It looked... well, almost peaceful. If Kaloy didn't know better he'd swear it were a resort planet with natural features like that. Then again, it's wartorn nature didn't exactly stop a lot of tourism. Just made it illegal. And speaking of legalities, the white-haired elf tuned back into the conversation as the gnome mentioned one Border Patrol.

He'd changed beforehand, generic t-short and baggier khaki cargo pants sitting uncomfortably. He missed his coat a little, stowed as it was beneath his seat, but there was no time for that. Concentrating, Kaloy stood from his seat and turned from the others, features shifting as he channelled the stream slightly, his pointed ears growing shorter, white hair shortening greatly as an invisibility crept up the elf's back, leaving his hair barely neck-length and finely combed while new strands fell softly around his face. His features generally took on a more kindly appearance, chin rounding, eyebrows shortening, green eyes swirling into a calm blue and nose growing ever so slightly. His arms thickened slightly, his belly growing portlier along with them.

The end result was a relatively young-looking, naive, benevolent elf, not out of place in the volunteer group they were masquerading as, and hopefully unremarkable to the border patrol of the hierarchy of Omnedias - hopefully what they would expect to see.

 

[Fletchawk]

[div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Groth 'Rook' Roo'ken
Location:
Loreh Ship
Tags:
Tardy Grade Lyro
[/div][/div]

The announcement of the Onnedias inspection rang throughout the ship and it certainly didn't help his headache. Groth closed his eyes as he waited for the sound of the inspection shuttle to latch on to their cargo vessel. He remembered that a similar event had happened the last time he'd been in Isyn's orbit. Groth knew that data servers were a common war target, so it was unlikely that they still had records of his visit, but it was still made him a little wary of the coming boarding party. A bigger concern in his mind was if they found something else to their dislike. Border patrol in a warzone were just as likely to destroy a suspect ship as conficate its cargo. He opened his eyes when the metallic sounds coming from the docking hatch resonated through the hunk of junk that barely passed as a ship.

Fortunately, most of the crew looked their part with the exception of Pane being hunched over listless, a bit of drool dripping occasionally from his mouth. While those in security roles were a bit more varied, it wasn't out of the ordinary. His own attire consisted of a sleek light armored vest over a grey 3/4 sleeve shirt and black cargo pants. It had a more corporate look but the lack of the usual blatant insignias made his non-allegiance apparent, though one might suspect one in his past. For the sake of comfort during the trip, Groth's holster was moved from the small of his back to his right thigh. On the whole, his armament was hardly intimidating and easy to gage.

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[Sir Swigglesworth]

[div class=wrapper][div class=box][div class="boxBg boxBgLarge"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgTall"][/div][div class="boxBg boxBgMedium"][/div][div class=boxInner][div class=statusBox][div class=characterPortrait][/div][div class=statusText]Location: A cargo ship being violated by an Onnedias ship.
Mood: Casual
Status: Under the guise of a G.I.W merc
Tags: Fletchawk Lyro Lexielai [/div][/div][div class=title]Vincent "Shade" Lacroia[/div][div class=text]Vincent caught the bottle Jay had tossed to him and popped the top with a soft smile and nod towards the woman before he tilted their head back and took two big swigs from the bottle. The young man initially held back a grunt as they felt the heat of the liquor run down his throat before coughing once and letting a guttural and scratchy, "Ahhhhh," before speaking up once again, "damn, is this pixie tequila? Here, catch." Afterwards they tossed the bottle back to Jay after he put top back in its place. Then, hearing Verillis' words, Vincent chuckled lightly and turned their attention to the gnome. "Haha, had to catch yourself on that last bit didn't ya? Yeah I'm sure he'll be fine, but hey at least we all know what fried tiefling smells like....Oh and don't get a black light either!" Vincent's words were spoken with a lighthearted chuckle and came of as enthusiastic and witty just as he seemed. Much different than the angered, pissed off individual he initially gave the impression of.

It wasn't much long after that the ships comm systems rang through with a message from an Onnedias ship they were to cease further travel for an inspection. His gaze turned to Groth who was casually clad in a rather corporate security look, it would likely be suspected his role in this security detail is to come off as more personable but not one to be fucked with based on their stature. Meanwhile Vincent, well he was adorned in a full fledged combat suit and was armed in a way that matched their appearance. Currently on him he only possessed their XR5, PD5, and knife. He left his drones along with their sword and combat pack in their own small quarters in the ship. So he'd certainly appear to be one of the more serious members within the security detail for this "relief mission." But then again the planet is a literal war zone so it shouldn't be unexpected he hoped. With a quick thought running through mine, the man activated the device on his left wrist, a small holo-screen popped up from the device in response and Vincent began swiping through a file of color patterns for his suit that he typically utilized for varying situations when he didn't have his chameleon transformer activated. He eventually stopped on a program labeled "G.I.W" and activated it. Immediately afterwards the mans suit began transforming from it's standard darkened metallic silver and began taking on a dark navy blue with snow white highlights. Then, directly in the center of his chest came the G.I.W insignia. A skull enveloped with shadows and their full name in an arch beneath the insignia, "Ghosts of Interplanetary Warfare". Pleased with his new look, that being of a G.I.W employed merc, Vincent stood up and took a position within the room where they could stand aside and appear on sentry duty. Once settling into their new "sentry position," Vincent activated his helmet and in the matter of about 2 seconds his face was concealed once again.
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[fluticasone]

When the ship was ordered to cease movement, Asya felt her heartbeat kick up several notches. She'd never gotten used to these spot inspections. Even though it was unlikely they'd be discovered so soon, it was still a nerve-wracking experience. She unbuckled herself from her seat, already dressed in a gray t-shirt and khaki. Her blonde hair was loose, but with a quick flick of her hand, it braided itself and remained tied together with mana. She looked the part of a volunteer, but had credentials, courtesy of the Commonwealth, to be a translator for those who weren't well-versed in Common.

The tiefling looked to be in questionable straits, so she approached him, taking care to remain a safe distance should he come to in a panic. She liked being a fairy, but even she had to acknowledge their delicate bodies wouldn't survive a direct blow very well. Her wings fluttered as she studied his semi-conscious state. It wouldn't do.

"We should wake him up and make him presentable. We'll look suspicious otherwise." The fairy said this to no one in particular. "It will look like we're kidnapping him, taking part in some sort of trafficking deal."