gorgenmast

Add ignore/block functionality.

I agree, @Zenra! There is just too much bad content on our Guild! Take the crayons away from these dirty-minded perverts! Nobody wants to read a bunch of gross tripe on this good old website. People who post gross stuff on our website are just trash on the side of the information superhighway if you ask me. Time to put these digital litterbugs out to pasture! WHO'S WITH ME?!

Eden(Small-scale Space NRP)

Radak Station
Planet Socordia

Ifoise Mbuku scowled up at the early morning sky, staring intently at a very bright star situated directly overhead. Mbuku knew that the brightest object in the crepuscular sky - save for the planet's sun just now cresting over the mountain range to the east - was no star, but rather a starship. Rasvan Saroyan had parked the Bushwhacker - his destroyer and mobile heroin processing plant - in orbit directly above Mbuku's outpost on Socordia. Even now, the Bushwhacker had it's spinal-mounted laser cannon aimed directly at Mbuku and the Radak Station outpost. Although the facility was effectively a large bunker half buried into Socordia's southern salt desert, even the outpost's thick concrete walls would provide little protection against an armament powerful enough to effortlessly punch through starship armor and vaporize cities. The pirate lord's ultimatum to Mbuku was unambiguous: surrender himself and everything he had to Saroyan within two hours or become the center of a blackened crater a kilometer wide.

"I'll give you everything I got, liddle man," said Mbuku, staring up at the star above him with a malign smile. "Just you wait."

Mbuku stood atop the roof of the outpost's bunkerized compound. Equal parts militarized heroin warehouse, forward operating base, and starship hangar, Radak Station was well armed and more than equipped to launch an attack on the Bushwhacker if Mbuku so chose. Two anti-orbital cannons the size of large houses were mounted onto pillbox turrets on the corners of the building capable of launching hull-penetrating tungsten darts or high-explosive warheads into any orbiting target at relativistic speed. A surprise salvo from such artillery would easily cripple the Bushwhacker, but with Saroyan waiting in orbit directly above watching his every move, Mbuku would not have the element of surprise. He knew that if he wanted to survive this encounter alive, he would have to employ subterfuge.

Killing Saroyan would be easy enough for Mbuku, for he was no stranger to killing men. He killed his first man at 11, fighting against pirate invaders on his homeworld of Katanga. By the age of 15, Mbuku had joined the the pirates simply because they paid better. Over the course of his life, he had fought in brushfire conflicts on six worlds and killed over one hundred combatants, human or otherwise. Killing Saroyan would be easy enough, sure, but then what? Saroyan's franchise of pirates throughout the frontier worlds and beyond would never submit to Mbuku.

But if he could take the Bushwhacker, along with its onboard processing facility, what choice would Saroyan's pirates have?

Mbuku had been skimming off the top of his heroin shipments up to Saroyan since the beginning. But to neglect to send up half of the scheduled shipment, Saroyan would certainly notice that. Mbuku was counting on it. And just as Mbuku had planned, Saroyan had taken the bait.

Socordia's sun had now risen well above the peaks of the massif to the east, and Mbuku could already feel the temperature climbing rapidly. Shimmering mirages were starting to form on the low lying spots of the white desert that surrounded Radak Station. In just an hour or two, outdoor temperatures would rise to a lethal 60 C; the horrendous heat of Socordia's unterraformed salt deserts served as an added defense against maroon bandits and escaped slaves from the opium farming regions. Mbuku navigated the station's maze of rooftop air conditioning units before descending through the rooftop access to retreat back into air conditioned comfort.

The pirate warlord descended a ladder into an open, cavernous space. All along the walls, giant metal shelving held entire pallets full of black tar heroin compressed into huge tacky bricks, not a single one of which was being loaded onto either of the two freighter starships docked in the bunker's vertical hangar silos. One of the the starships was being loaded, but not with heroin. Teams of Mbuku's subordinates directed hoverjacks bearing pressurized metal crates into the hold of one of the freighters. He stepped down onto the concrete floor of the bunker and made his way over to the freighters.

"Shouldn't we be wearing some kind of hazardous material suit handling this shit?" Mbuku overhead one of the pirates steering a hoverjack remark as he approached. "If one of these crates busts open-"

"If one of these crates busts," one of the other porters interrupted, "then we're all dead even if we're wearing spacesuits. That's the thing about fusogenic acid. It fuses - or sticks - to any organic compound. That means it'll adhere and eat its way through any suits, even the rubber fittings under power armors and exosuits, and then it'll fuse to you. It'll eat through your skin and into your bloodstream. It volatilizes into vapor and gets breathed in, and if you get it in your lungs, then it melts your lungs from the inside out. Just a little inside a hazmat helmet will kill you painfully and slowly as it melts your eyes and turns the inside of your lungs into bloody mush. Completely exposed like we are now, if one of these crates were to spring a leak, then we'd be turned into pools of red sludge before you even felt anything. Trust me, you're better off without a suit."

"Jesus..." his companion shuddered.

"Back in my previous life as a merc, we used it regularly in brushfire wars on shitty frontier planets. Unlike a lot of chemical weapons, this stuff actually works better in low-pressure atmospheres like the kind you see on unterraformed rocks. The low atmospheric pressure lets the fusogenic acid volatilize and disperse easier, which means it gets on more people and scores more kills. The core worlds try to ban it, but unfortunately for them and fortunately for ne'er-do-wells like us, it's relatively easy to make. A good chemistry student following a recipe for it could probably whip up enough for a grenade using common lab equipment. It's scary stuff, even in small quantities. I don't even want to know what boss man is planning to do with several tons of it."

"Das enough chatter," Mbuku barked. "We got less den two hours to load dis ship. Keep wasting time, and I'll test dis acid out on you lot first."

"No worries boss man," said the more knowledgeable of the porters. "Only another two crates two go. Then all we gotta do is set up the remote detonators, put them on the crates, and they're good to go."

"Well den get to it. Finish up here, get your guns and report to de other freighter. I want you lot dere in an hour or I'm leaving you."

Mbuku left his porters to finish their work as he went over to the other freighter. The warlord looked inside the hull and did not see any of the pressurized crates bearing deadly fusogenic acid, though his subordinates had loaded an assortment of munitions from around the station: few cases of grenades, some ammunition for kinetic weapons. Few other supplies would be coming with. Mbuku had been asked by his subordinates why they would not be bringing any of the heroin. He replied telling them that they had been promoted and some other chump would get stuck with Radak Outpost; though he had failed to specify just how their "promotion" would be taking place.

The pirate warlord made his way to the freighter's cockpit and took his seat at the helm of the vessel. Through the windshield of the cockpit, only the metal bulkheads of the hangar silo could be seen. But in just a few short hours, this vessel's cockpit would provide a front-row seat to the mutiny that would end the generation-long lull in piracy and threaten billions of lives across the cluster.

Once seated at the helm of the vessel, Mbuku initiated a communications link and hailed the Bushwhacker.

"Mister Saroyan, my deepest apologies for de shortage of product and de delay. Loading of de product we do have on hand is nearly complete. In just a few short minutes I will be departing and I assure you, I am bringing wit me everyting I've got."

....

Suzumiyo,

Namaste. You are a beautiful child of Earth. Love is to be made. Breakfast is to be eaten. Know these thing and go with Gaia. When the path is difficult to follow, heed the wisdom of the Ones Before:

Be like the turtle that sinks to the bottom of the well yet does not drown.
Be as the fish that traps itself in the net, but slips from the fisherman's hand into the sea.
Walk with the horse, but follow not in the path of the ox.
Tread not on the beetle.
Tread not on the lizard.

Amen.

Eden(Small-scale Space NRP)

Yerma Polvorienta
Planet Nuevo Arauco

Dappled sunlight shone down on Sofia, filtering through a lush canopy of gargantuan trees as she walked slowly through a meadow of showy red flowers situated between the woods. Sofia tilted her head upward as her eyes went up to the treetops maybe 30 meters above her head where songbirds chittered cheerfully in the lacy, star-shaped foliage that she recognized instantly as cannabis leaves. Warblers and wrens fluttered about the moss-laden branches, skipping up and down the limbs and pecking at little insects creeping among the lacy leaves and resinous trichomes. Sofia's eyes followed a pair of warblers as they dove out of canopy and swooped just over the flowered meadow, bringing her gaze to the flowers she stood amidst.

Surrounding Sofia were thousands of crimson red poppies rising up to her chest on swollen stems. She allowed her bony fingers to brush across the flowers as she stepped through the meadow; their red petals dislodged at the slightest touch and disappeared amid the poppy leaves and nascent flowerbuds hidden underneath the blanket of red flowers.

As she approached the center of the meadow, a breeze blew through the forest and rustled the giant cannabis trees. The wind tousled Sofia's locks of scraggly, greasy hair and coursed through the poppies. With only the slightest disturbance, the poppies shed their red petals into the wind. A flurry of red coursed past Sofia as the flowers were dispersed, exposing the thousands of bulbous green opium pods hidden beneath the carpet of poppies. Out of curiosity, Sofia plucked one of the the opium pods off the stem with a satisfying pop. She examined the round green globe as she spun the pod in her fingers, and was surprised to find a a series of pits, bumps, and ridges on the pod's otherwise smooth surface that made it look exactly like a human face. Sofia's face.

Her likeness in the opium pod had its eye shut firmly, its lips twitched and trembled. Sofia looked down to the other pods and saw faces on the other opium pods as well. She saw the likeness of her Vidrio dealer in one pod, and the visage of her girlfriend that had first introduced her to heroin in another. Every single opium pod in the meadow bore a human face; each one locked in fitful, feverish sleep.

Sofia looked down again to the pod in her hand bearing her own likeness, and noticed tears of reddish-brown opium resin dripping through her shut eyes. As Sofia gazed at the dripping opium pod, the warm, dappled sunlight transitioned to an infernal orange glow. Thick smoke filled the sky as the cannabis trees burned all around her like mammoth torches. Embers drifted from the ardent tree boughs down to the meadow, where they began to fall against the opium poppies and ignite. The faces on the opium pods woke in screaming terror as they were consumed by the fire. Birdsong had been replaced with agonized shrieks as thousands of faces in the opium pods were consumed in wildfire.

She looked down at the opium pod and saw her face boiling away in bubbling opium resin. The flesh of the opium pod's face had melted away to reveal a skull that yawned open and gave a piercing scream.

-

Sofia bolted up out of her fever dream drenched in sweat. She could still hear agonized screaming, but the burning poppy meadow was nowhere to be seen. Instead, Sofia found herself surrounded by the hoodoos and mesas of the dusty badlands that surrounded Ciudad Capolicán, all moving past at a dizzying speed. She was laying in a small stowing platform mounted on the back of a large speederbike hovering a meter up above the dusty surface of the planet. Two other women - one of which was screaming from heroin withdrawal - lay beside her on the cramped platform. It seemed that their captors were not at all concerned with the possibility of escape, for the only kind of restraint on the stowing platform was a short rail crudely welded to the sides to keep any "cargo" from rolling out. Their arms were bound with zip ties, but their captors hadn't bothered with binding their legs together. Not that there was much opportunity for escape. The speederbike was cruising across the wasteland at every bit of 300 km per hour; attempting to jump out at such a speed would be suicidal. And even if escape were possible, no human would survive very long out in the Yerma without provisions. Hot days, cold nights, dust storms, and polluted water in the stagnant pools of dried up arroyos that crisscrossed the badlands would cut life expectancy of a healthy straggler out in the wilderness down to perhaps two or three days; nowhere near enough time to hike the potentially-hundreds of kilometers back to Ciudad Capolicán, El Presidio, or whatever the nearest settlement out here was.

"Aww, did the baby have a bad dream?" The kidnapper in the rear seat of the speederbike taunted over the howling of the wind, noticing that Sofia was awake. Sofia could see his fat, warty face through the glare of the wind visor of his helmet, and noted that he was not one of the emaciated addicts who had originally kidnapped her.

"You missing the needle already, zorra?" She was. It had been less than a day since she last shot up Vidrio, but already Sofia was starting to feel nausea and aching joints. Much longer without a fix, and she too would probably screaming in agony just like her fellow captive. "Well, ya better get used to it. Some rich bastard on Juralus is gonna be mad if his mail-order bride turns out to be a fucking junkie."

Sofia was repulsed. She said nothing, but the disgust on her face was abundantly clear.

"Don't be such a prude," the fat man said, rolling his eyes. "Nothing new for a whore like you. A girl as pretty as you has certainly sucked a dick or three in your day to score some Vidrio. Besides it could be worse: you're not being sold off to the Black Sun. Your homelier friend to the left... she probably won't be so lucky."

Sofia took a glance down at the girl laying silently to her left, still knocked out or sedated. She was hardly homely but she had a mousier face and her nose bent ever so slightly to the left. Sofia would never consider her ugly, but she could not deny that she did not quite qualify as attractive.

"What will they do with her, the Black Sun?" Sofia spoke up at last, concern for the stranger laying beside her written across her face "What do they want with her?" The fat captor shared none of Sofia's concern and gave an apathetic shrug.

"I'unno. All I know is that the ladies that don't cut the mustard for offworld brides get sold off to Black Sun. They pay less, but I guess Saroyan's boys figure it's better to get something than nothing."

"Saroyan's boys?" Sofia asked.

"Offworlders. Pirates. The guys that actually run the show on this shitheap of a planet... aaand there they are."

Directly ahead of the speederbike in the distance was a dropship idling on the valley floor between two mesas. Perched on three landing legs, the spacecraft vented compressed atmosphere in puffs of vapor while the vessel's crew loaded crates up a metal ramp into the hull with hoverjacks. Men armed with laser carbines standing guard around the dropship at once directed their attention to the approaching speederbike. As the speederbike drew near, one of the armed men pointed to a spot a few meters in front of him while his companions readied their weapons in case of trouble.

Sofia's captors slowed the bike to a crawl once they had arrived and came to a stop directly where the armed man had gestured. Kickstands released from the undersides of the speederbike as the craft slowly hovered down and came to a rest on the ground before the driver killed the engine. As the two captors stepped over the seats of their bike, a balding man with wiry gray hair receding from the top of his head stepped down from the loading ramp of the dropship and approached the speederbike. Donning what appeared to be a bathrobe and a dirty tank top over a pot belly with grease-stained cargo pants, he was about the farthest thing from the stereotypical brutish-looking space pirate that Sofia could imagine. Unassuming as the pirate leader was, the giant laser pistol holstered on the side of his robe and his attache of brutish paramilitaries demonstrated that he was not to be trifled with.

"What can I do for you fine gentlemen? Brought me something good, I hope." The pirate smuggler greeted over. It was an offworld accent - distinct from Nuevo Arauco's Spanglish dialect. Sofia had difficulty understanding him.

"Girls," said the fat man, seizing Sofia by the wrist bindings and pulling her up to her feet to show the smuggler. "They'll make some lonely bastard on one of the core worlds very happy. 2,000 credits for the pretty one, 1,500 for the screamer, and 1,000 for the one that got hit with the ugly stick."

The speederbike's driver grabbed the shouting woman suffering from withdrawals and brought her onto her feet. She groaned and wailed as her handler brought her over to the pirate smuggler, who studied her up and down as one might look over an item at auction. He gave a frown as she struggled against her captor.

"Heroin withdrawals," the smuggler noted. "You really dug deep for these girls, didn't you?"

"Half the goddamn planet's hooked on it," said the fat kidnapper.

"Not just this one either. That shit's all over the frontier worlds. I'm starting to see more of it in the core worlds now too. In any case, nobody wants heroin junkies for brides. I can get them off of it, but it takes time and meds and obviously that eats into my bottom line."

"Spare us the sob story and make a counter offer."

"Well, let me just see what we're dealing with first of all," the smuggler said, producing a small plastic device the size of a thumbnail out of his robe pocket. He looked over Sofia before approaching and grabbing her by the wrist.

"Hold still," the pirate smuggler snarled as Sofia drew away from him. Her captor held her still as he pressed the plastic device against her wrist. A tiny spring-loaded needle pricked her wrist and drew a infinitesimal amount of blood. SOfia winced and began sucking on the pinprick on her wrist as the smuggler produced a small tablet from his robe pocket and inserted the sampling lancet into the tablet. An hourglass icon flashed on the tablet's screen for a few moments as the blood sample processed. An auditory chime sounded as the results flashed onscreen.

ANALYSIS COMPLETE...

SPECIES: H. sapiens - 100.0% match
ETHNOTYPE: Caucasoid - 58.4% match
BLOOD TYPE: AB
RHESUS FACTOR: Positive
SEX: Female
BIOLOGICAL AGE: 28-31

PREGNANCY: Negative
ANEMIA: Positive
BLOOD GLUCOSE: 3.9 mmol/L
DIABETES: Negative
LEUKOCYTE COUNT: 3328/L
METASTATIC CANCER: Negative

CONDITIONS DETECTED: Asthmatic bronchitis, Hepatitis A, Hepatitis C, HIV, Kadirov's Syndrome, Narcotic Use - Opiates

"Jesus, she's been around the block," the smuggler exclaimed, scrolling through the analysis readout before returning the tablet to his pocket. "Nothing I can't fix, but that takes time and money."

"I'll break even on her at 2,000 credits," the smuggler said as he gestured to Sofia. "But even at a discount, I can't make money on the other girls. Black Sun will take 'em but not for anything close to what you're asking."

"You're not giving me over to the Black Sun!" The woman suffering from withdrawals snarled.

"500 credits each?" Countered the fat kidnapper, ignoring the addict's lamentation.

"Heheh, try 300 each."

"Whatever, 300 for these two, 2,000 for the looker."

"Deal."

"Fuck you!" The woman suffering from withdrawals shouted. "You're not taking me to Black Sun!"

The screaming addict broke away from her captor's grip and immediately began running away from the dropship. Her handler started to follow after her and the pirate paramilitaries looked to their leader for direction. The smuggler said nothing, but drew his laser pistol from the holster on his waist. He took a few seconds to adjust his aim before squeezing the trigger.

The unmistakable report of a laser discharge - a thunderous, sizzling crack - resounded across the badlands as a single pulse of red-hot plasma was loosed at the fleeing woman. The beam ran just over the pursuing kidnapper's shoulder, singing the hair on his head as it impacted nigh-instantaneously on the shoulderblade of the escapee. Her chest exploded in a spectacular spray of vapor, blood, and viscera before she tumbled lifelessly into the gravely soil of the badlands.

"Anyone else entertaining notions of escape?" Asked the smuggler as he lowered his pistol. Only the wind blowing though the valley and the hissing of the dropship could be heard.

"Good. Now get these two girls tranqed and stowed and fetch 2,300 credits for these fine gentlemen. It's time we head back to Socordia. That planet's enough of a shithole; I don't want to spend anymore time than I have to on this one.

The two kidnappers began to protest about not getting paid for the slain woman, but in the presence of the carbine-armed guards, their complaints quickly died out. Sofia exchanged a terrified glance with her fellow captive as she felt a needle of tranquilizer embed itself in her neck.

I am naught but a fugitive

Mods=cods

Excluding mah boothang. Lub u bby

Jorick

IN A WORLD WHERE CUM IS WORTH MORE THAN GOLD