It was early morning in Adella, the capital of Mega, and
the Buck Rogers spaceport was bustling with activity. There were no less
than three starliners in orbit that day; their size could be judged by
that of their landed shuttles: big bulky things that could barely take
off a planet. A constant stream of people flowed from them and huddled
on the rolling sidewalks that would carry them through the customs.
There were people from all over the Megan Space in that crowd. Here, a
radical Cyblan walked stiffly in his exoskeleton. There, a Tsheia
nobleman paraded his gorgeously ornated uniform. A Caino, almost twice
as tall as anyone else, delicately balanced a ceremonial spear that must
have weighted a hundred kilograms. A bunch of insect-like Unaani
scuttled around his feet to get in front. And everywhere else there were
humans, Mythians, Kinac... any species who could get around on Mega
without a spacesuit. Which was most of them.
Somewhat further afield, a single passenger disembarked from a small
private starship. He looked very much like a stereotypical mad
scientist; but at least he had the common sense to wear a blade-proof
coat (and, one could hope, a bullet-proof vest underneath). It was a
sure sign he traveled a lot, and not just in civilized places.
For a long moment he stood there surveying the landscape, while the wind
played with his white unruly hair. Then he shouldered a small, floppy
bag and started towards the customs gate at a brisk pace.
***Time to introduce your characters. See Megapace for details about the setting. Natually, I'm available for details and clarifications.***
Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 11/28/2008 08:23AM by Shadow.
Nightwrath on June 30, 2008 03:13AM:
** English version **
Asherio looked around rather nervous, his ears moving rather wild and
his tail dancing around in a rythm that could hardly be controlled by
the young Tsheia.
He hadn't slept for almost two days, and things couldn't be worse. His
trouble started at the very moment when he had moved to this planet
(which was the dream of any hi-tech lover to be among such many
innovations from the known worlds).
But this came with a certain price. Unfortunately, his last boss proved
to be a rather unscrupulous person. Not only that he had exploited him
and payed him with a low wage, but he also took advantage of the fact
that many people were not familiar with the specific troubles of the
feline race.
Asherio was raised amnog humans since he was a small child (to be more
precise, among a small group of physicians from the Earthree
constelation), but his rank among his compatriots Tsheia was rather
unclear, since they could treat him as either a humans' slave (therefore
he would be seen worth less than even a crushed bug) or as a fugitive
rebel (a status which was even worse than being a slave since it would
assume that any other Tsheia was given the right to kill him on sight
without any further notice).
So, his last boss (some obscure guy named Mutton) used this whole
situation to get some leverage and made Asherio's life a living hell. He
got some advantage from the fact that he used to know people among the
local administration, people that were affiliated to the Tsheia nobility
and he had tried to treat the young man exactly like you would treat a
slave (this thing would not have been so unusual in itself, since he
used to treat all his employees exactly the same way, however it was a
rather unorthodox blackmail in this case).
Normally, in a society like the Megan one these kind of things should
not have raised any problems to any regular citizen. Unfortunately it
was not the same thing when it came to Tsheia traditionalists, who would
put their ethical and racial issues above any other law. There was a
major risk for one to be put on the "black list" and be hunted for the
rest of his or her life.
Asherio did posses papers that were proving he was a "free" citizen.
Unfortunately, the written prove of this was well hidden by Mutton, and
since Asherio had left his job in a hurry without announcing anyone, he
suspected his boss had already marked his as a "fugitive" for his deed.
That in itself was no big deal, as I said before, but unfortunately we
are talking about Tsheia here. Until some other identity paper would
arrive from his home planet (or should we say foster planet, where he
was raised by the researchers' group who had set him free) he was
sitting duck for any fanatical traditionalist. And generally speaking,
it was rather hard to find any Tsheia who was not a fanatic.
His luck in Adella came with the fact that he was dressed in his rather
used technician jumpsuit and that he was carrying around his "tool bag"
which made him rather unspicuous for his kind, who were probably
considerring him a slave in that disguise. Unfortunately, once Mutton
would give the alarm about the fact that there was a "fugitive on the
run" things would turn rather ugly.
He could find another job rather easily - anyone needed a good
technician or a man skilled in many ways who could repair your
"proto-watch" or your personal home robot. Unfortunately, the Tsheia
chasers were not a bunch to be fooled around by hiding in some basement.
He could find himself stabbed in his back without any given warning -
the felines had some of the most redutable "shadow assasins".
So, he had no choice but to run to the Buck Rogers astroport hoping he
would find a way out on a ship that was good to go, since this planet
had become a "hot spot" for him.
** Romanian version - deprecated **
Asherio se uita nervos in jur, urechile i se miscau
nelinistite iar coada de felina ii dansa in mai toate directiile,
intr-un ritm ce nu parea a fi controlat de catre tanarul Tsheia.
Nu dormise de aproape doua zile, iar lucrurile nu aratau prea roz.
Problemele sale incepusera din momentul in care se mutase pe aceasta
planeta (visul oricarui iubitor de tehnica de a fi in mijlocul celor mai
noi inovatii din lumile cunoscute).
Acest lucru venise insa cu un pret. Din pacate, ultimul patron se
dovedise a fi un individ lipsit de scrupule din toate punctele de
vedere. Nu doar ca il exploatase si ii daduse sume de mizerie, dar
profitase si de faptul ca multa lume nu era la curent cu problemele
rasei felinelor.
Asherio fusese inca din frageda pruncie crescut in mijlocul oamenilor
(mai exact de o mica grupare de fizicieni intr-un sistem din constelatia
Earthree), insa statutul sau in mijlocul compatriotilor Tsheia oscila
undeva intre sclav al oamenilor (drept urmare, undeva sub valoarea pe
care o dai unei insecte calcate) si rebel fugar (un statut care de
obicei era mai rau decat cel de sclav, deoarece presupunea omorarea lui
pe loc de catre oricine l-ar fi "recunoscut" ).
Asadar, ultimul patron (un individ obscur pe nume Mutton profitase de
aceasta stare de fapt si ii facuse viata un iad lui Asherio. Profitase
de faptul ca avea si cunostiinte in administratia locala pe cineva care
tinea de nobilimea Tsheia si incercase sa il transforme pe tanar in
sclav personal (lucru nu neaparat deosebit in sine, deoarece asa facea
cu mai toti angajatii sai, numai ca in acest caz gasise un instrument
foarte interesant de santaj).
In mod normal, intr-o societate precum cea de pe Mega asemenea lucruri
nu ar fi trebuit sa puna probleme majore vreunui cetatean. Din pacate nu
la fel stateau lucrurile si in ceea ce ii priveste pe traditionalistii
Tsheia, care puneau problemele lor etice si rasiale deasupra oricarei
legi. Riscul de a ajunge pe "lista neagra" si a fi vanat tot restul
vietii, doar pentru ca nu aveai "eticheta" in regula era unul major.
Asherio avea acte de cetatean "liber". Din pacate, dovada scrisa a
acestui lucru fusese bine ascunsa de catre Mutton, din al carui serviciu
fusese nevoit sa fuga si care probabil il daduse deja in urmarire ca si
"fugar" pentru "fapta" lui. Nici asta in sine nu constituia o problema
majora DACA nu ar fi fost vorba de Tsheia. Pana avea sa ii vina un alt
act de pe planeta lui de bastina (sau mai bine zis adoptiva, unde fusese
crescut de grupul de cercetatori ce il eliberase) avea sa fie la bunul
plac al oricarui "traditionalist" fanatic. Si in general era tare greu
sa gasesti vreun Tsheia care sa nu fie fanatic.
Norocul sau in Adella fusese acela ca imbracat in salopeta uzata de
tehnician si cu desaga destul de ponosita fusese de multe ori ignorat de
semenii sai, care il considerau ca fiind probabil un sclav. Din pacate
odata de Mutton avea sa sune alarma ca exista un Tsheia "fugar"
lucrurile aveau sa se complice urat de tot.
Ar fi putut sa gaseasca de lucru - oricine avea nevoie de un tehnician
sau de om-bun-la-toate care poate sa iti repare proto-ceasul sau chiar
robotul personal din menajerie. Doar ca "potera" Tsheia nu era chiar o
grupare pe care sa o duci de nas ascunzandu-te in garajul din spate al
vreunui atelier. Se putea trezi oricand cu un cutit intre coaste fara
nici un fel de avertisment - felinele aveau unii din cei mai redutabili
"criminali-din-umbra".
Asa ca, obligat de situatie fusese nevoit sa se refugieze in astroportul
Buck Rogers in speranta ca va gasi o nava care sa ii ofere o plecare
cat mai rapida din acest loc ce devenise prea fierbinte pentru el.
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 12/03/2008 09:18PM by Shadow.
Shadow on November 28, 2008 09:05AM:
***Okay, resuming the game after a long time... and switching back to English, the way RPGs are meant to be played.***
Ash-like sand swirled around his boots, but the white-haired man didn't
seem to notice. The planet's F-class star burned impossibly white in the
pink sky, casting stark shadows on the mountains looming to the
southwest. Up high above the rocks, dark shapes danced madly in the
wind, but what they were, he couldn't say.
It was a long trip over the little strip of desert that was the
spaceport, and this particular traveler was on foot. Slowly but surely,
his mind wandered...
Jonathan Ish-Kan had given up a long time ago trying to explain why he
had a Terran first name and a Mythian surname. Or why his left hand
carried a Cyblan's cybernetic enhancements. He simply pointed out with a
smile that he was a xenologist, and let others imagine the rest. At
least he wouldn't have to give many details about his presence on Mega.
These days, thousands of treasure hunters scoured the Elder ruins under
the guise of scientific research. At worst, a genuine researcher would
draw attention by having very little funding, but Jonathan had enough...
for now. Not that he was about to waste much; unlike most others, he
knew there was no treasure to be found.
He was no longer paying attention to the road, and so he almost ran
headlong into a young Tsheia who was hurrying in the opposite direction.
"Sorry, young man." He said promptly, avoiding the collision with a graceful move.
*** And sorry for the short post, but with only one player we might need to re-evaluate the direction of the story.***
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 11/28/2008 08:17PM by Shadow.
Nightwrath on December 03, 2008 08:47PM:
At first Asherio wanted to pass by the man with white hair.
He was in a hurry after all, and who knows what Tsheia chasers might be
already on his tail...
However, there was a device attached to the man's arm that caught his
eye. The technician from within came to surface and Asherio stood still.
He hadn't seen Cyblan technology in a while (lately he was using just
Mirrian parts, they were cheaper and of course, of lesser quality), and
he couldn't stop himself from asking:
"Excuse me, where did you get this?"
Shadow on December 03, 2008 10:01PM
Quote:
Nightwrath "Excuse me, where did you get this?"
A Cyblan's cybernetic hand was the 23rd century equivalent of a tribal
tatoo, so the question carried more meaning than it seemed. At least for
someone who had lived on Cybl for years, and Ish-Kan had. Most people
feared the cyborg race, but he found their culture fascinating. The
merging of man and machine, an unrelenting love for building and
improving, but also the willingness to fight when necessary were THE
tenets of Cyblan culture, and the cybernetically augmented hands
embodied all of them. True, the xenologist was just that, as opposed to a
real Cyblan, and he hand't gone any further with the implants, but what
he had, he cared about. So those simple words were enough to make him
suddenly sympathetic towards the stranger. But he knew fear might have
lurked behind the superficial interest.
"Why, I've got it at the source. It's a long story. Let's just say I... spent some time on Cybl. Not entirely my fault, either."
*** At this point I should probably underscore that the guy's hand (and forearm) is cybernetically augmented as opposed to being replaced with a robotic version.***
Nightwrath on December 03, 2008 10:31PM
Asherio was familiar with many technological devices, since
he was forced to deal with many races' problems, and he had a certain
soft spot for some exotic devices that were not entirely legal.
However, in this case the man with white hair had a pretty strange
hybrid gizmo that seemed to belong to a newer generation than the ones
he was used to. Strange enough, some of the devices usually were not
shared between species, and yet... the man's arm was the proof that
sometimes small miracles do happen.
"I never knew that terrans could get tribal marks from Cybl. And I guess it's not just a souvenir."
Perhaps an interesting story was behind the whole cybernetic enhancement thing...
Shadow on December 04, 2008 01:06AM
"Aren't you a curious young person." The white-haired man
said in an oh-so-slightly mocking tone of voice (when talking to a
Tsheia, that was usually unwise, but the situation didn't look usual;
besides, he wasn't a crybaby either). He half-turned towards the main
gate, which was now closer than Dock 14, where he came from.
"Tell you what, I believe there used to be a restaurant outside the
spaceport. If it's still there, we can talk over a good meal. You look
like you need one."
And a new job, he added for himself, looking at Asherio's worn jumpsuit.
He should have been distrustful. On Myth or Cybl, the worlds he was
most familiar with, only a lazy person could be poor. But the Megan
society was a mish-mash. Anything could happen.
Something else occured to him. The youngster seemed pretty tense at
first (if he interpreted the alien body language correctly). What could
have bothered him? He scanned the thickening crowd, but whitout his
augmented reality glasses he couldn't even tell whether anyone was
armed.
"By the way, I'm Jonathan."
Oh yes, the glasses. He fished them from the inside of his coat: a big
slab of yellowish plexisteel with a thick black rim. As he put them on,
tiny lights began to flicker, creating a superimposed image just for his
eyes. The Mythian device showed a lot of information, but he was used
to process even more of it. Yet everything appeared normal, from the
ambient temperature to the latest local news.
*** While the game is on hold waiting for two new players, you might want to check the Megan Space development thread.***
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/04/2008 06:34AM by Shadow.
Shadow on December 07, 2008 11:27PM
*** The game will resume shortly. It's a good opportunity to centralize certain clarifications I've circulated out-of-band.
The Megan Space aims to be a space opera setting with a hard sf flavor (think Ringworld
on a larger scale). Don't worry if you're not good with technology,
we're focusing on people here, and I'm around to give advice anyway.
The setting is ill-defined, which is just as well, as I encourage
improvisation. Anything that improves the game is... well... fair game.
Regarding the species/civilizations:
The Sulhru, Unaani and Rivoli are anything but humanoid. I recommend treating them as non-playable.
The Tsheia: Nightwrath's got them covered, see his first post.
The Mythians are reserved for future use. I'll provide more background on them during or after the winter holidays.
Terrans are the resident technophobes of the setting. They use
starship-level tech only out of neccesity. Those raised in colonies may
be more open-minded.
Cyblans are they polar opposites. We're talking cyborgs living in a
permanent network, and the only reason they haven't run into a
technological singularity yet is lack of critical mass (read: small
population).
The Kinac love their homes and families more than anything else. They
take great pride in all the activities that involve building and
developing an area: farming, architecture, manufacturing,
research/terraforming, etc. Unfortunately they are saddled with a
militaristic Emperor and High Council. Luckily, the Empire's border is
far away.
Caino keep mostly to themselves. When they do
come into contact with other species, they often have contradictory
behavior. Everyone else suspects they keep fighting among themselves,
but nobody really knows.
These are, of course, just guidelines. I don't believe in carbon-copy aliens.
Regarding the worlds:
There are 9 homeworlds in the Megan Space (let's not venture into the
Kinac Empire yet...) and many hundreds of small colonies/outposts.
Interesting stuff can happen anywhere.
That said, a few colonies have been defined already. I'll put them on the map RSN.
Euphoria is an exotic-looking Terran colony halfway between Earth and
Mega, with, ahem, very liberal sexual mores. There has to be one of
those, right? :P
Mirrium is somewhere between Mega and Myth. It's an outlet through which
shiny Mythian toys are being leaked out to the less advanced societies.
The Mythians get a lot of money out of it without really giving up
their tech advantage.
Beta Earthree is one of the oldest Terran colonies, very close to Earth.
It's surprisingly human-friendly, and a haven to scientists.
Centerra (it's on the map...) doesn't yet exist at the time of this story.
Jimdor, Mahla - time to introduce your characters, I guess. ***
Shadow on December 15, 2008 09:16AM
*** OK, let's resume (and sorry for the delay). Fast forward a little bit... ***
The restaurant had changed names since Jonathan's last visit. Owners
too, apparently. Instead of the old-fashioned sign saying "The
Hospitable Human" there was now a virtual display with the word "Star
Gate" in several languages, and the tall enclosures that used to
segregate customers from different species had been replaced by a smart
maze of tables and light screens, arranged so as to make it easy for the
patrons to ignore each other.
Jonathan led the young Tsheia (what was his name again? oh right, he
hadn't said) to a table facing the nearby spaceport gate. He sat in
silence, and passed his guest an e-menu. He looked at him for one more
moment before asking carefully:
"So, young man, you like technology?"
After all, if he was going to need a crew for his little expedition, the least he could do was to find people who would care.
*** And sorry if I'm leading a bit here. The whole thing's a bit awkward anyway. ***
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/15/2008 06:02PM by Shadow.
Nightwrath on December 16, 2008 02:19AM:
Asherio replied:
"My kind do not seem to show too much interest in technology, but then -
I was not raised by my kind. Therefore I was offered the unique
opportunity to see the world outside the Tsheia dogma and found out that
the universe it's very interesting in its own way. One of the most
interesting things it appears to be the technology."
Indeed it was not very often for one to see a Tsheia working on some
engine or device. Or to be more honest you would never see one. Felines
and mechanics do not seem to get along in any way. That was perhaps one
of the reasons that made Asherio to love even more his line of work -
the fact that the chances to meet there another dogmatic Tsheia would be
minimal.
Shadow on December 16, 2008 03:43AM
"You speak well... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." The xenologist was intrigued and relieved at the same time. Not raised by his kind?
That was unusual... and fortunate for him. A true Tsheia would have
been difficult to deal with. Then again, a true Tsheia would have
ignored him in the first place, more likely than not. Speaking of
which...
"I believe you wanted to know how I got to be accepted among the Cyblans
as one of them, or almost. It's a long story, one I've never told
before. You might as well be the first to hear it. Unfortunately, it
would take more than one dinner's worth of time. Stiil, I'm paying."
By way of demonstration, he tapped a generous order on the menu - for
himself. He didn't dare guess what this particular Tsheia might want to
eat.
"Too bad the time is so short, " he added. "I would like to hear your
story, too. But I have some business here on Mega, and I suppose you
have better things to do than following an old man around."
Not that he was particularly old, of course. But people - especially
non-Terrans - tended to think he was. (The hair. Must be the hair.) And
frankly, sometimes it was better to be underestimated.
Nightwrath on December 17, 2008 03:29AM
All of a sudden Tsheia realized he was really-really
hungry. He was still on the run, but he would not refuse a good meal...
"I think the dinner would be fine" he said quickly, his ears dancing again.
Shadow on December 17, 2008 04:21AM
"You do know how to use this, right?"
Jonathan asked with a smile, pointing towards the second e-menu. He was
certain by now that the pseudo-feline was pennyless. Just the opening
he needed.
"Anyway, " he added, " if you don't have anything better to do, I might have a job for you."
He leaned forward. Spacer wasn't such a good language when it came to whispering, but the xenologist had practice.
"I'm going to find the Elders' biggest secret."
Of course, everyone knew about the Elders. They had crossed this part of
the galaxy ages ago, leaving their print in the DNA of sentient
species, terraforming some planets, polluting others - Mega's poisonous
oceans were telling - and generally having a blast. Nobody knew why -
and the Elders weren't around anymore to answer questions. But most
people didn't care anyway. Those guys must have been advanced, right?
Like, really advanced? They must have left stuff lying around -
technology beyond the dreams of even an interstellar civilization. So
that's what most "archaeologists" were looking for. Few in the known
galaxy knew better, and Jonathan was one of them.
"I'm going to find out where they went, and go after them. But I need help."
*** Great, now my character sounds like a con artist. And hopefully I didn't just break Jimdor's character concept... ***
Nightwrath on December 17, 2008 09:27PM
Tsheia did not wait an invitation for the e-menu. The stake
looked delicius. The menu's interface however... was terrible. He had
worked on an improved version for a nearby restaurant a few months
before.
Something that Johnathan has just said caught his attention though:
"The Elders? I would be surprised if they had only one big secret. I
mean, if they were as advanced as some of their devices were... we don't
even know if they were humanoids."
He had seen such a device (a broken one, no one ever found out how it
worked) in a tech museum. He could not touch it, of course and he
believed that parts of it were missing.
But there were rumours that some interesting artifacts were being kept
by some very rich folks, people who did not know what to do with those
devices but kept them the way do when you collect a painting. Of course,
it was very much possible that various other devices, machines or
technological wonders were just sitting there undiscovered everywhere in
the galaxy. And of course it was not always obvious how an Elder device
would actually look like...
But about their departure...
"Are you sure they actually went somewhere? I mean couldn't they just
vanish as a species at some point? This happened long time ago. They
might be dead, perhaps?"
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/17/2008 09:29PM by Nightwrath.
Shadow on December 22, 2008 03:35AM
The xenologist smiled.
"There is more data available on the Elders than most people think.
Unfortunately, it's scattered among the stars - often literally. I spent
years gathering pieces from the puzzle. Now, the trail has led me here,
and it's not the end of the road, not by far."
"As for what happened to the Elders, " he added, " that's what I want to
know, too. And not just from academic interest. Have you actually
studied one of their devices?"
He didn't wait for an answer.
"They're really not that advanced - not by modern standards, anyway. But
if the Elders are out there, if they haven't vanished, as you say...
well, they've had three and a half teraseconds to advance
technologically, whereas we're only now getting to the level they used
to have."
He paused for dramatic effect, just as a robot waiter arrived with the two orders.
Nightwrath on December 22, 2008 09:21PM
"Well, they say some of the technological breakthroughs
were because of the Elders legacy, but otherwise I haven't seen any
specific device made by them. I did see some exotic technologies that
may compete with the Elders' though."
And he was proud to be one of the few that could single hand some of the most diverse tech approaches in the galaxy.
Proud or not hunger did not forgive. So the young Tsheia was eating,
listening and speaking almost at the same time - not the most polite
gesture, but after so many hours of hunger...
"However. You say there were _signs_ that lead you here? What kind of
signs could the Elders leave after so many years that could be tracked
in such a prscise way?"
Asherio was suspecting about some tech gizmo discovery (that was why he
was so anxious), but xenology was not only about tech. It could have
been just a regular map. On some gods forgotten rock in the middle of
the galaxy.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/22/2008 09:31PM by Nightwrath.
Jimdor Armimane on December 25, 2008 05:06PM
Jimdor Armimane crept into The Star Gate cautiously. This
gave every sign of being a fairly simple extraction operation, but years
of experience had taught him to never take anything for granted. He
favored the bartender with an inquiring glance; the bartender in turn
looked pointedly toward one of the enclosed booths reserved for those
dining as well as drinking. Jimdor made a mental note to deposit the
requisite credits into the bartender's account, and turned his attention
to the environment around him, taking in locations of doorways,
furniture, and of course the other patrons. See nothing out of the
ordinary, the big Caino padded with surprising grace toward the booth in
question.
He paused again a meter or two away, listening to the conversation
coming from the booth. His quarry -- what was the name this time? Ah,
yes, "Asherio" -- appeared to have found a friend. Their conversation
was -- odd. Something about the Elders? It almost sounded as if
Asherio's friend (human judging by the sound and accent of his voice)
was making a sales pitch or job offer to Asherio. Did he know that the
Tsheia with which he was dealing was as hot as nuclear slag? That
people just like Jimdor (actually, for the most part much worse) would
be chasing him relentlessly all over Mega (and possibly beyond)? The
"friend" was an added complication in what Jimdor had hoped would be a
quick and clean apprehension, but he didn't sound particuarly
threatening. He should scare off easy enough.
Once hand clutching his distruptor pistol inside his coat, Jimdor
stepped into the booth and clamped his free hand down firmly on the
Tshieia's shoulder. "Asherio? I'm here on behalf of Osprey Recovery
Services. For your own safety and that of your friend here, I need you
to remain calm and prepare to come with me."
Shadow on December 25, 2008 09:26PM
Jonathan froze in surprise. Like any scientist talking
about his work, he had become distracted. Not that he had any reason to
expect trouble in perhaps the most civilized place on Mega. But there it
was, and several thoughts raced his mind simultaneously.
Was Asherio a criminal? His behavior had been a
little suspect earlier at the spaceport, but then, it should have been a
State Guard coming after him, not this... recovery guy. What was that
supposed to mean, anyway, a legally-endorsed racket? The Caino certainly
was clean and well-dressed, and he spoke Spacer better than the
xenologist. Then again, a mobster only had to be intimidating, and that
he was.
Jonathan considered his options. With his AR glasses, he might just
manage to call the State Guard unnoticed... or maybe not. His built-in
taser could fry a human. It should have been enough to stun a Caino...
or maybe not. In any event, the moment wasn't favorable to any approach.
He chose a third.
"What is going on here?" He asked drily.
As he spoke, it occurred to him that it wasn't his problem. But for all
his Terran genes, he had the independent mind of a Mythian. He didn't
respond well to intimidation. Not well at all.
*** Merry Christmas, Jimdor! Welcome to the game.
Nightwrath is on vacation, but I think we can exchange a couple of posts
without bothering his character. ***
Jimdor Armimane on December 26, 2008 03:02PM
Jimdor sized up carefully the man on the other side of the
booth. His gray hair marked him as middle-aged if not beyond; his small
frame, slightly archaic sense of fashion, and lack of obvious
cybernetic enhancement marked him as most likely a Terran. He should be
utterly non-threatening. And yet...
What was that device on his arm? An ordinary (technophobic) Terran
would never wear such a thing. And there was something odd about the
man's glasses. Most of all, though, his manner
told Jimdor that this was a man out of the ordinary. Jimdor had learned
long ago to trust his instincts, and doing so had saved his life many
times over. Now, his instincts told him there was more to this aged
little scientist than met the eye, and that he had best tread carefully
until he sorted out exactly what the man's relationship to the Tsheia
beside him really was.
Still, Jimdor didn't loosen his grip on Asherio's shoulder as he spoke.
"Your dining companion here has run away from a perfectly legal and
binding indentured service contract. I am simply here to return him --
preferably for everyone, undamaged -- to the man who holds legal title
to him. I have no quarrel with you, friend. If you will allow me to do
my job, I and this fugitive who undoubtedly took advantage of your
trust will be out of your way and allow you to finish your meal in
peace."
Shadow on December 27, 2008 03:17AM
"I... understand."
The xenologist had seen it before. While slavery proper was illegal
across most of the known galaxy, it was a sentient being's prerogative
to voluntarily give up its freedom and the responsibilities that came
with it. Never mind that only a desperate one would do that, and that
only a scumbag would take advantage of one's desperation. It was the
law, and in a way it was better than the authoritarian abuses of the
past.
It was also none of Jonathan's business. None at all. And yet...
"I'm suddenly interested in buying this particular contract. With your permission, I will accompany you back, Mr..."
Jimdor Armimane on December 27, 2008 04:08PM
Jimdor knew that the idea of the man who had contracted his
services bargaining over this particular escapee was likely absurd.
Mutton had paid Osprey a ridiculous amount of money to get this one back
quickly and, just as importantly, safely. This was not just another
unskilled laborer that Mutton (one of Osprey's best customers) wished to
make an example of. There was something special about this one,
something that made him very valuable.
So many mysteries Jimdor encountered here on Mega, and yet he always
remained focused on the bottom line; on doing his job effeciently and
unemotionally and on collecting the requisite credits in return. It was
just this cold unemotionality that made him so good at his job, and
made people pay him so well to do it. And yet his universe had once
consisted of more than quotas and credits. Lately the longing for
something more had been building within him. He found that these two
strange, mysterious characters awakened it even more. What was the
story here, and why must he always remain a bystander to the adventures
of others?
But, no... no. These fantasies passed, were forced from his mind by an
effort of will, as they always were. Once again he was all business.
"Mr. Armimane is the name. Jimdor Armimane. And I am not contracted or
empowered to negotiate on my employer's behalf. If you would like to
give me your card, I'd be willing to relay your interest in his sl...
servant to him, although I wouldn't get your hopes up about his
response. In the meantime, Asherio here and myself really must be
going."
Shadow on December 28, 2008 04:40AM
*** OK, time out. We can't go on too long
without giving Nightwrath a chance to react, and I still haven't
mastered Inkscape enough to draw the map we'll need shortly... ***
*** Edit: OK, here's the map I promised. Explanations
coming soon. Sorry for the quality, my map-making skills are essentially
non-existent. ***
*** Grrr. Edits don't show up on RSS. So be it.
* Adella is the planetary capital, where all the excitement happens.
Well, most of it. It is also across the mountains from the spaceport. It
can be reached via suborbital craft (not readily available) or the
monorail via Turntown.
* Turntown is a Terran-founded settlement, about 150 klicks along the
monorail line to Adella. It's an industrial town that deals with the
output of extraction platforms along the Southern Ocean shores. It
sports a strong State Guard presence, but also considerable corruption.
* Awaiaih is a predominantly Tsheia town, serving as the main gate to
the Elder ruins (if going by ground car, the most common option), as
well as a connection to the planet's second-largest spaceport (not on
this map).
* Eleshar is named after a city on Myth, where most of its inhabitants
originate. Mythians have an anarchistic streak, so they are likely to
ignore fugitives - or bounty hunters, for that matter - as long as they
don't cause too much trouble. It's 300 klicks away from the spaceport,
along the monorail line (which goes around the mountains, and through
the desert).
But I'm getting ahead of myself...***
Edited 3 time(s). Last edit at 01/01/2009 10:04AM by Shadow.
Nightwrath on January 14, 2009 12:49AM:
Asherio froze at the moment he felt the Caino's touch on
his shoulder. His ears started dancing wildly, while his mind was trying
to process the whole thing. First of all he must have been a bounty
hunter, and not a Tsheia killer, otherwise he would be dead. The hunter
must have had a gun with him.
"This must be a mistake" he started saying with a calm voice (or at least he hoped it was calm).
He was trying to decide what kind of person was the "bounty hunter".
Shadow on January 14, 2009 09:53PM:
The xenologist started to make the gesture that would beam
his digital "business card" (the size of a 21st century press dossier)
to the bounty hunter. He stopped at Asherio's plaintive question,
instictively trying to come up with a soothing answer. But he found
himself at a loss for words... and then it was too late.
The shockwave came a good 3 seconds ahead of the thunderclap. One of the
booth's walls hit him in the back. He fell over the table, unwittingly
pushing it into the Tsheia's midsection. An inflatable sun shade came
down with a "whuf!" and he could hear shrapnel rapping on it and the
booth wall that now pinned him to the ground. Then the sound caught up,
and he winced as it rang in his unprotected ears.
A moment later, it was over. He waited a few more seconds, then shuffled, trying to assess the situation.
Jimdor Armimane on January 14, 2009 10:27PM:
As soon as the explosion came Jimdor's instincts took over.
He rolled himself into a ball as he dropped to the ground. The shock
wave buffeted him badly enough, but the worst of its shock passed over
him. He stayed crouched for a second more, as a rain of glass and small
debris came down on and around him. Then, covering his mouth and
nostril with his hand to filter out the smoke as best he could -- this
could be a chemical attack -- he was on his feet again, gun raised,
peering through the smoke, trying to assess the situation. The smoke
and dust had not yet cleared sufficiently to allow him to see who or
what had been the source of the explosion. He did, however, see that
his would-be bounty was pinned underneath the table, and that the old
man was peering around in obvious alarm and confusion. Whatever was
happening, it didn't appear that it was a rescue operation for the
Tsheia.
Shadow on January 15, 2009 02:40AM:
Among the remains of a nearby table, a well-dressed Terran
woman cried in fear as she saw her own bloodied arm, then she noticed
Jimdor's weapon, which gave her a brand new reason to panic. More cries
echoed from the recesses of the semi-enclosed restaurant - there must
have been some real casualties in there. A few people actually started
moving, presumably trying to get some help, but confusion reigned.
What was remarkable at first sight was the relative lack of flame.
Whatever smoke there was came mostly from scraps of metal heated by
their impromptu ride on the supersonic blast. Here and there, small
pieces of flammable materials had ignited, but there was no fire to
speak of, and the furniture, though shattered, was not scorched.
Jonathan picked up his AR glasses with a trembling hand. The radio
spectrum was filled with silent messages, and the device struggled to
organize them into a semblance of coherency. An orbital shuttle had
apparently exploded while taking off. Strangely enough, there were no
reports of a fireball. The spaceport's control center was cancelling
flights left and right, but the emergency services were not on the move
yet. Hard to blame them, really - this kind of incident was virtually
unheard of.
He focused again on his immediate surroundings. Unsurprisingly, there
was the same confusion as online. At least he was uninjured, and so was
the bounty hunter, apparently. He couln't see Asherio, though, and he
felt a pang of worry as he scrambled out from under the leaning booth
wall. He stood... and almost fell back on all fours. Oh well, he
thought, mostly uninjured.
Jimdor Armimane on January 15, 2009 02:11PM:
Jimdor saw the Terran raise himself unsteadily to his
feet... and then promptly collapse toward the floor. Jimdor wrapped one
arm around the Terran before he hit the floor, supporting his weight as
easily as he might a child. Peering around through the now clearing
smoke and seeing no one immediately intent on killing him, he passed the
pistol to the Terran. "I assume you know how to use one of these..."
he said. "Keep an eye out while I try to help out our friend here."
Right arm still supporting the Terran, he pulled the table away as
gently as possible with the left, allowing it to rest back against the
wall of the booth. Asherio lay crumpled beneath, looking none too good.
"Can you tell me where you're hurt?" he asked, prodding him gently,
trying to discover the extent of his injuries. A damaged bounty was
worth much less to him than a healthy, after all.
Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 01/15/2009 02:12PM by Jimdor Armimane.
Nightwrath on January 18, 2009 11:48PM:
Apparently cats no matter their size they tend to have a
sixth sense whenever they feel danger. Asherio was no exception so his
first reaction was to get under the table.
Unfortunately, his Tsheia reflexes were not as genuine after years of
behaving rather human. So he felt a part of the shock from the
explosion.
The bounty hunter was asking him something but his ears did not hear what he had said.
He felt a little dizzy.
Shadow on January 19, 2009 01:02AM:
Jonathan threw the Caino a funny look, but he took the
weapon without a word. His dizziness was subsiding, and with the AR
glasses he actually had a chance of detecting threats. Assuming there
was a threat in the first place. For the moment, he was more worried
about Asherio. The young Tsheia had actually risked his freedom to
satisfy his love for knowledge, and the xenologist could not help but
feel responsible. Not that he had time to think about it.
A drone drifted silently overhead, and the few people who were still
among the remains waved at it. Something about it looked wrong, though,
and Jonathan didn't realize what it was until he noticed a dozen men and
women grouped around the entrace. They were about to come in, unlike
everybody else... and they had energy weapons.
"Friends of yours?" He asked, tapping Armimane on the arm.
Jimdor Armimane on January 20, 2009 12:33PM:
Asherio did not answer to Jimdor's queries -- merely moaned
softly. He was plainly disoriented, if conscious at all. Jimdor
decided he would have to take him to a hospital, much of a risk of him
escaping as that presented. Jimdor was engaged in a sometimes
distasteful business, but he was not a monster.
A second later, the risk of losing a bounty were the least of Jimdor's
problems. Through the gradually clearing smoke, Jimdor spotted about a
dozen individuals in full combat gear, energy weapons at the ready.
The Terran obviously spotted them at the same moment. "No," Jimdor
answered his query. "I work alone. I think we had best get out of
here."
While the soldiers were entering through what remained of the entrance, a
sizable hole had been blown in the wall opposite -- and the smoke was
somewhat thicker in that direction. Without another word, Jimdor lifted
Asherio as gently as he could -- the risk of exasperating his injury
being, he judged, a favorable alternative to his risk if left at the
mercy of these characters who had just entered the bar. "Cover us," he
said to the Terran, and duck away through the smoke toward the daylight
shining in through the hole in the wall.
