Olan Sinclair
RETIRED
Prodigal Aviator & Jack-Pilot Savant
Posts: 76
OCCUPATION/SPECIALTY::: Pilot/Jack-Pilot
:::::::::::::::::::::HGT:::::::::::::::::::: 5'3''
:::::::::::::::::::::WGT:::::::::::::::::::: 110 lbs
:::::::::::::::SCENT:::::::::::::::: A little warm metal; hint of citrus/orange; splash of cucumber melon. It's a light, airy & zesty smell.
::::::::AURA-COLOR/s:::::::: Slow pulsing white.
++++++ WORDS +++++: "What youz ask'n for is a gambit of hazzuks maneuvers...soz at least you're asking the right pilot, eh?"
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Post by Olan Sinclair on Sept 8, 2013 21:41:11 GMT -5
Welcome to Sector 13- Deck 1- YES, everyone, regardless of WHEN you begin playing on Sector 13 will start on Deck 1
- There is a list below that provides a number for all rooms, you'll roll 1d10 to find out which room
- Not all rooms will be open for character arrival/waking, please use the list below
- On the day of the event (9/13) the boards will be open for the links out of the rooms waken in
- This is meant to give you time to think about where/how your character starts the event
- You may choose to post your character waking in the same post you reply here about their moment of blackout
- Those who post the waking here will enter the room RP moving into another room or .. whatever
- Those who wait to post waking in the RP Room of the event, will begin there, obviously. :-p
What to expect...- Characters who were armed at the time of blackout, will NOT have their weapons when they wake
- Some doors will be locked and will require power/hacking/main control to open
- Some doors will be broken, and can be pried open
- Some doors will be locked and unable to be opened; likely due to damages
- The same as above can be said for cabinets and such
- As for what to expect in the rooms.. well, you'll just have to play and see :-D
Directions on the Station- All pages will have a direction key just like this on it!
- Some images will also have this key rather than an individual key
- On the pages where the other rooms are linked there is directional lingo so you know which way it's referring
- If at any time you need help, just ask or have your character tag along with someone else
- It's a good idea to pick a "Navigator" of the group who will help the other players through the rooms
//roll-sides10-dice1 Roll the above string, or choose your room!
Rooms Characters may wake up in- = Common Room
- = Crew Cabin - Captains Room
- = Crew Cabin - Room 1
- = Crew Cabin - Room 2
- = Crew Cabin - Room 3
- = Crew Cabin - Room 4
- = Crew Cabin - Room 5
- = Crew Cabin - Room 6
- = Rec Room 1
- = Rec Room 2
You may look through all the rooms if you want. Please note, links out of these rooms won't be open until 9/13!
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Post by Papa Cain on Sept 13, 2013 11:28:09 GMT -5
Friday the 13th. Seemed good a day as any to take time to meditate. Quiet, alone, in the safe confines of the room he rented on the Midway Station. The room surrounded in candles of different height, thickness, and color. The lights were completely out , leaving nothing but the warm glow of the candle flames. The candles were lined in a wide circle among the floor and sitting in center was Papa. He sat there with legs crossed. Simple black cargo pants were all he was in. No shirt, no shoes, and he was giving service. Hands were together and a cup sat before him as he began to pray.
" I ask your help tah not connect to things. To see those who wish tah be seen. Ignore the loud mouthed one's who don't. Hear da pleas of dose who can't talk Give me their voice so I may share their words. Let me feel the truth in the face of lies. Let me taste the very life you blessed me with. I give thanks and accept the gift given to me. And I beg to have patience with the non believers. ...... oh.... how I beg you for this. "
That prayer given, he took a knife cutting his finger and drew symbols around. Reaching before him he took the cup before him. Wine mixed with Moon Fruit Juice and Golden Hen blood. Slowly he drank every last drop of the " Nectar Of the Gods" Closed eyes now opened and the brilliant green brightness began glowing from the depths of his gray eyes. After a few minutes the room slowly changed around him. The warm yellow and oranges flickering from the candles along his rooms walls turned to shades of blue. Eyes closed again. taking the time to meditate. To concentrate on the voices they flooded his head listening and swimming through them to help and aide those lost Invisibles. The world went dark then in his head. Silence. Unaware of sudden unconsciousness.
As he came to he'd wake. Room 4 of the first Deck of Sector 13. He of course knew none of that. The room was blue, oxygen levels were higher then they should be adding to his almost euphoric state. Shirtless and shoeless still. Face still painted white and black in skull face fashion and a few markings on his body in white as well as part of his ritual. His eyes came to open and looked about the room as he came to. The visions of blue and his body floating in the middle of the room. Only one thought came from Papa.
" Dis no good ."
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Echonia LaVarjia
RETIRED
Matron of the What-Was Museum
Posts: 57
OCCUPATION/SPECIALTY::: Antiquities Authenticator & L'jet Expert
:::::::::::::::::::::HGT:::::::::::::::::::: 5' 6''
:::::::::::::::::::::WGT:::::::::::::::::::: 132 lbs
:::::::::::::::SCENT:::::::::::::::: Damp cool earth & magnolias
::::::::AURA-COLOR/s:::::::: Like the rainbow swirl of a motor-oiled rain puddle
++++++ WORDS +++++: "I remember everything" -Echonia
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Post by Echonia LaVarjia on Sept 13, 2013 13:22:51 GMT -5
It was about mid-day MistHaven Moon time, though Lady Echonia was on a chartered flight out to Midway Station to barter for an Earth Relic she'd gotten a tip about. Not wanting to draw too much attention she wore a very simple but elegant baby blue dress which brought out the liquid clarity of her own blue eyes. It was long enough to skim the floor and hide the matching flat slippers which were almost as good as walking barefoot. It was of course tailored for her and tapered in a little at her waist while accommodating the flare of her hips and bust. The neckline was as modest as the rest of it, covering everything but her collar bone and neck. Even the sleeves were long and lightly belled around her hands. Her hair was loosely braided back and covered with a shawl which she wore like a hood further covering her exposed skin.
She sat in one of the very comfortable lounge chairs for the trip, a black satchel no bigger than a water canteen and of similar circular shape was resting in her lap and strapped around her torso in a dark line. She wore very light makeup, just enough to shade her eyelids a little, soften her blank stare with a smokey frame. Her lips were lightly glossed but not painted because her Lady-Maid (position available for play!) insisted her lips were fine on their own. Sometimes the two would engage in conversation but today they did not, Echonia was reflecting on the Midway's most recent hostage situation, more specifically, what she was going to tell the public about it via Rumor Radio.
OnlineHost: AIive until Dead rolled 1 10-sided die: 9
Echonia hadn't even realized she'd fallen asleep until she was waking and it was one frightening revelation after another. She wasn't in the same chair anymore, this one was much more stiff and shaped entirely different, she was slumped on a table-- a table that hadn't been on the ship at all. It smelled musty and old, the cards and the scent of their waxy films were as distinct as the chips they lay with. At first she thought she was at an old Casino or something but it didn't sound like one. It was relatively quiet other than the low hum of electricity which let her know she was still on a ship or station, though it didn't feel like Midway. The room was several degrees colder than the one she last remembered being in but it wasn't terribly uncomfortable. Not as much as the dull ache in her back that made her wonder how long she'd been slumped in the chair like that. As she erected herself and gave a listen for others she slid her hands toward her body to make sure her satchel was still there and it's contents. Not being decernable weapons they were indeed intact and it was the only relief she thought she'd get the next few hours... or days... there was a familiarity about the feel of the vibrations but she couldn't pin it down. Likely because so much was different about the Station than when it was first built.
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Post by Jai Theron Cross "Crossfire" on Sept 13, 2013 18:46:44 GMT -5
Just an ordinary evening, sitting at Noodle Man's Stack on deck 4 of Midway Station. Jai was living good after bagging his most recent bounty, even if it had been hand-fed to him, the run had yielded other results as well.
"You look damn pleased with yourself," Noodle Man said as he placed the bowl before him and dropped a spock stick down into it. Jai eyed the bowl and bent down to take in the aroma. "Mm, never gets old. And maybe I am, old man. What do you think of the vest eh? Can hold all sorts of nasty things, plus I think it makes me look like a professional, you know, no nonsense kinda bounty hunter." He scooped up some noodles and then leaned back as he chewed, outstretching his arms and showing off the single-strap leather vest that draped over one shoulder and slashed over his chest before wrapping his abdomen and back. Beneath he wore a simple white thermal that showed off the musculature of his arms and chest. "Pretty nice, Mr. Cross, I think you should get me one... hold all my spoons and ladels" He metal-toothed old man laughed and Jai huffed. He thought it would be amusing, seeing Noodle Guy in a vest armed with cooking utensils instead of deadly weapons. "Hey... you watch the Stack for me while I go piss eh?" The old man asked, obviously trusting the hunter. "Yeah yeah, don't rush, I know you geezers need time to work it out. Good luck with that." The old man huffed and turned while Jai smirked and bent over his bowl. This was going to be a good night. He was just into another bite of the delicious mix, when his entire world went black.
Crew cabin, Room 5. Jai jumped awake and hit his head on the top bunk with a groan. He rubbed at his head and hissed at the bright lighting as soon as he opened his eyes. "Motherfucker..." He was sweating in that thermal despite the dryness of the air. Almost... sterile. He reached for his weapons instinctively and found all of his belongings gone. Panic. When he finally got his vision back and saw the blood splatters on the wall he thought he was a dead man for certain.. wherever he was, but it was eerily quiet. You're a survivor, Jai. That's what he told himself. Slowly moving to slip his feet over the edge and calm the beating of his heart he rose cautiously, turning to eye all four walls and then look back at the bed. The fact that the bottom bunk had no mattress allowed him to see the book underneath and he glanced over his shoulder hesitantly before he bent to pick it up. When he saw the strange symbols within it only made his head hurt more but he kept it with him. That's when he realized there was an exit on the opposite wall. Time to see what shit he's gotten himself into now...
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Zachariah "BlueEyes" Smith
RETIRED
Posts: 28
OCCUPATION/SPECIALTY::: Killer
:::::::::::::::::::::HGT:::::::::::::::::::: 6' 4''
:::::::::::::::::::::WGT:::::::::::::::::::: 276 lbs
:::::::::::::::SCENT:::::::::::::::: Leather, burnt wood
::::::::AURA-COLOR/s:::::::: Tyrian Purple
++++++ WORDS +++++: Reality is perception.
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Post by Zachariah "BlueEyes" Smith on Sept 13, 2013 18:50:43 GMT -5
OnlineHost: Deadmans Heart rolled 1 10-sided die: 4 OnlineHost: Deadmans Heart rolled 1 4-sided die: 2 Crew Room 2, Bunk 2
Zachariah was sitting at a booth at an Underside Bar called "Vertebrae" enjoying a meat heavy meal after his most recent job. He wore the usual shin laced boots and warn leather pants. His tunic was a tan color and left untucked. The multi-pocketed vest was laid on the table by the wall relieving his shoulders of the weight. His hair was pulled back and tied out of his face unceremoniously. He had thoughts of a certain Underboss and her recent handy work in mind when everything went black. He was unaware of the change until awareness started to cut into his brain like the cold to his bones. Zachariah's cobalt blue eyes blinked to focus on the darkness to see the glimmers of light coming through an open doorway. He was on a bottom bunk bed. Looking up he could see pictures of a little girl and the cold made his teeth chatter and body shiver. He felt physically lighter than he should have, and not just because he did not have his vest on. The first thing the killer did as he regained control of his limbs was jolt out of the bunk to see who else was in the room. If anyone.
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Post by Q ASH on Sept 13, 2013 20:55:13 GMT -5
Q was right, they HAD decided to take her gun privileges away after Mo's Diner Incident on Deck 4 of Midway. They determined that, while she was a good shot, she was obviously a bit trigger happy and it was too dangerous to let her carry a firearm on duty anymore. Never-mind the gun she shot during the incident hadn't been hers and she had been off-duty. Ash knew better than to fight them their way and decided she didn't even WANT to carry a gun so, everyone wins. On top of that, she was on mandatory leave pending a psyche eval and Ia wasn't all that thrilled about trying to explain herself to an analyzing stranger getting paid to listen to her. So, what was she doing? Sitting in her room on the JSS Triton in her panda PJs in front of her panda wall (a wall of stuffed pandas from all time periods and made from all kinds of things, not all of them soft or fluffy...) and she was practicing how she might answer the shrinks' questions. That's right, talking psychological stuff out-loud to a wall of stuffed Pandas aboard a Javos Solution Services vessel; not exactly something they put in the brochures.
Clean from a shower, hair almost dry, skin still gleaming from the after-bath-body-oil and smelling of cucumber melon and strawberries, the Comm-Officer sat cross-legged on the edge of her bed, facing her panda wall and addressing them in a professional tone that didn't match her attire at all. The tank top she wore was white with a cutesy-cartoon panda face cheesy-grinning with a daisy between it's teeth just under the unbound swell of her breasts. Similarly, her pajama pants had the same grinning panda face with random falling daisy's about from the draw-string snugness around her hips to the straight-leg shaft of each pant leg that hung over the tops of her feet and sometimes caused her to step on them. Being five-four, most pants didn't fit her without being hemmed and she had simply not bothered with her PJs and admittedly liked hiding her feet in the legs under the covers of her bed for extra warmth from time to time. Additionally and oddly, the barefooted blonde wore a lose combat vest in black with it's pockets and sleeves full of random circuits, wires, capacitors, power sources, motherboards, etc. A comm-techs tool box, as it were, with wire clippers, strippers, and solderers too. It made her feel more in tune with her job and Ia Q Ash wanted to keep her answers focused on her job as she prepared for her psyche eval in the comfort and privacy of her bedroom...until she wasn't...
OnlineHost: Bound but free rolled 1 10-sided die: 5 Deck 1, Crew Cabin 3: Q was shivering, her feet drawn into her pant-legs to no avail, her arms pimpled with goose-flesh and the occasional tremor of spasming muscles trying to keep her barely covered body warm. It was 62 degrees Fahrenheit and the lights were so bright she could sense the red of her eyelids despite her eyes being rolled back in a sleep not quite on the cusp of consciousness yet. The hum of the ship was wrong. The bed beneath her was wrong. The musty smell was wrong. The cold air was wrong. Perhaps what was most alarming, was the gravity. For a panicked moment, Ash startled awake with a gasp and a hard shiver that rocked her whole body, afraid that the ship had been attacked and that's why everything was wrong. Of course, as soon as she opened her eyes, squinting and lifting a bared forearm to shield her view she knew she wasn't on the Triton anymore. Was this a test? Were they taking the psyche exam to a whole new level these days?
Q didn't get up right away, she listened intently and looked around the room. Mostly, she was looking for hidden cameras or mics that might be recording her reactions for Brass. No cabinets, no closet, no personal effects, not even sheets on the mattress she was sitting on! The only thing in the room was the massive painting on one wall and at first, she almost dismissed it as nothing and only curiously examined the scene as if it might have some significance later in her evaluation like asking her how many eyes were in it, watching her... That's when she noticed there was no bolt-rattle as was often the case when bolting pictures to a ship or station wall. The painting wasn't bolted to the wall, or its bolts were rusted tight or newer than the rest seemed to be. It was technical curiosity that pulled her from the bed and put her small feet stepping on the ends of her too-long pant legs to get a closer look as if she might learn a thing or two that might save her from the rattle on her walls on the Triton. What she found, was hinges; the painting was a door...
To open it, or not to open it...
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Niema "BlackDeath" Pyke
RETIRED
Mastermind of the Underside
Posts: 105
Superior: Count Alistair Covok
OCCUPATION/SPECIALTY::: Killer, Torturer, Strategist & Hunter/Tracker
:::::::::::::::::::::HGT:::::::::::::::::::: 5' 8''
:::::::::::::::::::::WGT:::::::::::::::::::: 140ish lbs
:::::::::::::::SCENT:::::::::::::::: Warm desert spice, metal, blood, & leather
::::::::AURA-COLOR/s:::::::: Black
++++++ WORDS +++++: "Don't try to predict what I'll do. I'll prove you wrong just because I can. Assume the stories you've heard of me are true and know when you choose to toe up with me I will not have mercy. I will kill you or I will own you and brand you as mine; your service to me for your life. That is what you gamble with whether you realize it or not." - Niema
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Post by Niema "BlackDeath" Pyke on Sept 17, 2013 23:43:47 GMT -5
|| I n t e r r u p t e d ; The Underboss was on the Underside in her interrogation room (reads: torture room) when her world went black. Half dressed with a strappy bra-like top that covered her nipples and lower half of rounded bronzed flesh. The top half of black cups were only straps of black across her flesh, clearly by design. Niema knew violence wasn't the only way to torture someone though by the time she was taken from that room, she was covered in blood like she'd hung a sanguine carcase as a punching bag. That's not quite what happened [will post in her journal later] but it had a similar effect in the smattering of blood on the front of her mostly exposed torso. Blood even splattered down the black leather pants which clung to her lower half like a liquid dripped skin.
Her hair was pulled back in a braided ponytail out of her face and down her spine. Her lack of attire wasn't just about being taunting to the eye sexually, it was also a display of the many scars that riddled her body. Claws, blades, spears, bullets, burns and then some, you name it she probably knew what it felt like to get hit or hurt by it. One scar across her abdomen was as pronounced as the one that cut across her mouth, jagged and long like she'd been gutted once. Niema found that intimidation could come in the simplest of acts and forced observations. What is someone to think sitting in a chair waiting to be tortured by a woman with enough scars to know the ache of a thousand pains?
Lucky for the man in her interrogation room, she was stopped halfway into his limits. Vanish into thin air from his view, and lights out nothingness from hers. ||
OnlineHost: Black Death Pyke rolled 1 10-sided die: 3
[Her wake up post was done in RP]
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Post by Royce Hail on Sept 18, 2013 15:28:23 GMT -5
Niema wasn't the only one who was getting bloody in the pursuit of answers. The Lord and Heir to the Hail empire had to remind a few unsavory sorts why it's unwise to mess with Hailos supplies or mining operations. While he sometimes overlooked transgressions to Hail subcontractors mines in the understanding that a black market is necessary for their society, he didn't tolerate reports on Hail-controlled mines or ships. He was on one, teaching a would-be raider a much-needed lesson in priorities when his wife had word sent to him for company. Having decided not to make his wife sacrifice for his business, Royce handed the reigns of retribution to the ship's captain and had himself shuttled back to his own ship while he stripped and made an attempt to clean the blood and sweat from himself so he might be presentable for her. It was enroute that he blacked out, butt naked and half-cleaned in luxury shuttle bath. When he woke, he was wearing a bathrobe that was a size too small and snug around his broad shoulders and trim waist, covering him but leaving a chilly draft. He felt lighter than he knew he was and would have assumed they crashed and he ended up under the flight controls in the cockpit if he hadn't been wearing that damned robe. Reality bit him hard into a gasp for air that was cold and old, musty and smelled like old death and rotten clothes as he hit his head under a desk. Blinking his blurry vision he jolted into the back wall and hit his head a second time upon seeing the skeleton that shared the small space with him. Alarmed and immediately pissed off, Royce moved from under the desk and away from the body without leaving the room he was in. Pressing himself against the wall, he looked at the outdated communication equipment and the dead person he assumed must have died at their station. Unable to stop himself from wondering how, or why. Unable to stop himself from examining every detail from the wall where he stood without the intent to reach out and touch anything just yet. Maybe this was a dream. Maybe they did crash and he was dreaming something bizarre but not totally nightmarish.
Looking at himself, he almost corrected that last thought when he realized the bathrobe wasn't just smaller, it was a dark pink that was clearly meant for a woman. Worse, it had little flowers on the pockets and only covered his six-three frame to the top of his shins and 2/3 down his forearms leaving his wrists and hands naked as his feet, neck, collarbone, and absurd "v" of the woman's robe trying to cover his broad chest and cover his manhood and most of his scars. Some still battered the back of his legs in a reach for his feet with a hint that he might have once had his boots burned into him. He still had bits of blood in his reddish blonde hair and under his nails from grabbing the bloodied man several times in making him sit upright again. Now it seemed the joke was on Boon, and he had no idea where he was, how he'd gotten here, or even how long he'd been out. While thankful for the robe, he might have taken it off and preferred nudity if it wasn't so cold and there wasn't a dead-body forewarning him this wasn't going to be fun. Not even the circle couch seen beyond the room he was standing in, against the port-bow wall, could encourage him despite it's apparent proof that this wasn't a dungeon.
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