Jintaru

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

@Leestriter You're more than welcome to if you think you wold like to throw a character into the mix. Although it's in Advanced RP, there aren't really any too strict guidlines on length of post. All we ask is that it is more than a paragraph, pushes the narrative forward/advances yours and our understanding of your character and is well structured with attention to detail from a grammar perspective. That said, we're not Nazis here so don't worry too much. I know @Nomi Yanimura well and I know he's going to do something to open the RP up for newcomers in his next post.

If any potential newcomers would like to throw together a few sentences (or a character sheet, if you'd prefer) about the possible character, then it would help us out a lot.

@Metus
@Leestriter

Cheers

- Jin

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

Tes listened to Benner talk and flicked her gaze down to the weapon the Urin bodyguard was holding. He was right, but that didn’t surprise her, the man knew his weapons. For a couple of reasons, she could have laughed when he made the jibe about their lack of real firepower. Firstly, because both she and Ruce knew it wasn’t true. It had to be said that the Mk. III 65-As were outdated tech as far as the seemingly unstoppable progress of weaponry were concerned, but they were far from harmless. If one of the Urin footmen decided that he would take something either of them had said personally, the jacket Ruce was so proud of would no longer fit. Secondly because she knew exactly what her captain was doing…one of the things at which the aloof man was very good…he was goading the Grannoks. And it was working. She was pleased, for once, not to be on the receiving end of this particular talent.

Once again, she felt the wiry muscles in her toned arms tighten when the Grannok finally spoke and silenced Ruce. She had to admit a certain amount of disappointment that there was so little negotiation on their part. Whatever it was that She and Ruce had brought here for them, they wanted it badly enough to yield without a fight. She thought briefly whether or not they should have asked for more. She pushed the thought away and watched carefully as Benner descended the ramp and made the exchange with the towering stone-faced creature.

She nodded as Ruce walked back up the ramp and showed her the credit chit. When he laid his hands on her, she resisted the urge to either tense up or punch him in the face. She didn’t like to be touched when she hadn’t given the authority, and Ruce knew that. There was, however, a part of her that knew it wasn’t malice or spite that drove any of his actions towards her. Instead, she held her breath until he let her go and made his way up the ladder behind them.

“You got it, Chief.”

Her gaze fell back to the outside of the ship as she allowed her eyes to scan across those of every being at the bottom of the cargo ramp. She paused, knowing the frustration this would cause the Expanse emissaries, before turning back toward s the control console of the cargo bay.
Retrieving from a small recess in the side, a portable control panel, she turned it on and the mag-lev platforms holding the cargo crates resonated. She pulled out her IMP from the pocket of her cargo trousers and cast it. Once again, the bank of small LEDs along its edge lit up and the device began its orbit around her. She selected some music and got to work.

One by one, she used the mobile console to steer the crates out of the cargo bay and to the edge of the ramp. Once there, the magnetic platforms revealed themselves to be made of hundreds of interlocking plates, as they slowly slid under one another, lowering the crates they held onto the ground. After each deposit, Tes steered them back up the ramp and into their holding recesses. She knew they were watching her but she didn’t care, no amount of passive aggressive leering was going to make her work any faster. The bastards can wait. She thought.

Finally, she steered the final platform into its recess in the floor of the cargo bay and engaged the MHLs once again, locking them all down. Turning back to the bay door, she saw one of the Grannoks making his rather lumbering way up the ramp.

“That’s a wonderful little device.” He said, gesturing towards her IMP. “What is it?”

She smiled at him and met him at the apex of the loading ramp.

“What it is, is mine.” She said sweetly. “I was polite before, for a couple of reasons…” The sweetness in her voice began to ebb, replaced with a far more sinister tone. “One, because we still had business to conclude and two, because my Captain was present. Now that neither of those things are true, I have no interest in being polite.” She knew she was pushing it and both she and the hulking being in front of her knew that, if this turned violent, there would only be one outcome, but she would be damned if she was going to let an outsider, soiree onto the Valkyrie and attempt to intimidate her. “I don’t want to answer any of your questions, in fact, this conversation is over.” She stared into the Grannoks eyes. “Now get the fuck off my ship.”

There was a moment that passed between them. She refused to look away and the seconds dragged like hours. Finally the Grannok straightened up and there was almost a hint of respect in the final look her gave before turning silently away and disappearing with their cargo. She exhaled. Probably not all that smart, Tes.

Closing the bay doors, she shinned up the ladder again and walked back through the bulkhead, down the corridor and into her quarters. Strewn everywhere were machine parts and blueprints for things she was working on. Amidst the mess, she knew exactly what she was looking for. Reaching underneath her bunk, she pulled out an old, heavy chest. Throwing open the lid she pulled out Laverne.

Laverne was a made of polished steel with a rotating chamber and a hardwood grip. Laverne had once been an antique ballistic revolver sidearm that Tes had redesigned and recommissioned with an electromagnetic firing mechanism, enhanced, laser etched rifling and bored out holding chamber. She now held eight solid state, 13mm slugs which it could propel at nearly 800 metres per second. She was Tes’ pride and joy. She placed Laverne in the holster at her thigh and made her way to bridge.

“We happy then, Chief?” she said?

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

@MEtus You're welcome to do a character sheet for your character but don't feel obliged (I'm not a massive fan of them). I've spoken to @Nomi Yanimura and I think he has a plan to integrate new characters into the main plot. Until then, by all means introduce your characters and start to flesh him out. All I would say is that it has been established through the posts so far that Ruce and Tes are the only two crew members of Valkyrie at the moment. You may have to place your dude somewhere else for a post or two before we get everyone integrated. That all sound okay and not mental at all?

- Jin

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

“She’s not on her last legs, if you know what she’s about.” Tes protested. “She’ll run just fine provided you have a first-rate mechanic. Which, I’d like to fucking point out, you do. It’d pay you and Valkyrie if you listened to said mechanic every once in a while.” She rested her elbows on the railing of the gantry and looked down at Ruce. She counted up the years they’d flown together and found herself wondering how they’d made it so long without killing one another. She realised that, despite how different they were in practically every way, they worked well together. For all his bravado nonsense, he respected her as the skilled engineer she was and she respected him as her captain. Between Valkyrie, Benner and herself, they’d gotten themselves into and out of more scrapes than she could count. They had each other’s’ backs.

“Of course it was a good bodge-job, I did it.” She said. She knew that Ruce was trying to rile her as per usual but she was adamant that she wasn’t going to rise to the bait. “It wasn’t on its last legs at all but because you insisted on the bodge job and entering atmo so fast, it put too much strain on the brake servo. That’s where it came from.”

As the rear cargo hatch of the ship lowered, she vaulted over the railings that ran around the gantry and slid down the ladder on the other side. She landed with a thud as her boots connected with the cargo bay floor. Walking across the bay floor, she came to stand to the right of the captain.

As the cargo door touched down in the dirt and the ambassadors for the Zantu Expanse were revealed she found herself tensing up. Not out of fear, something else, like she was a coiled spring. She counted their number and let her eyes settle on those of one of the Urin bodyguards. They were heavily armed…perhaps too heavily for a simple trading party, but she knew how cautious the Expanse were about any meeting. She half expected to be hauled away to do the deal in some dingy warehouse somewhere. She became aware of the empty holster at her left hip and found herself wishing she’d brought Laverne with her. She heard the Captain speak about the hardware they’d brought with them. Cheeky bastard.

“Tes will do no such fucking thing until we’ve seen the money.” She growled, her eyes flitting from the Urin gunman to one of his Grannok employers. “We compromised our ship to get this here in time for you. We’ve now got to replace a fuse cluster and about 12 feet of coolant pipe, so we’re already out of pocket. You can see all your shit's here but I'm not offloading a damn thing until you show us you’ve got our payment.”

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

She remained on the gantry above the cargo area and waited for the captain to arrive. She knew he’d be as long as he wanted, that was one thing she had come to learn about him in the years they had flown together. When his life was in immediate danger, he did things as and when he wanted, and no sooner. They’d built a rapport and an understanding of one another and she had an amount of influence over him in certain situations, and she told herself it was mutual respect. She never really lingered on the truth of that though.

Something had happened, she could feel it. He’d damaged the ship in some way. She and the Valkyrie had become as one in the times they’d flown. Of all the machines she’d worked on, she loved the old girl the most. Ruce was captain of the Valkyrie but she was Tes’ ship too, perhaps more than that. Tes tended her wounds, cared for her and, in return, she kept Tes and Ruce alive. She knew when something was wrong. She flipped her IMP back onto her music and let another song play, the music calmed her down. Soon thereafter, Ruce appeared on the ground floor of the cargo bay.

“Cut through another coolant pipe, Chief?” she asked, inclining her head and looking down at him.

She shook her head and added a replacement pipe to her ever expanding shopping list. As he made his way over to the console and turned off the MHLs securing the cargo she plucked her IMP out of the air and returned it to her pocket.

“You know what The Expanse are like.” She began. “They expect us at a certain place at a certain time. They’ll already be waiting for us.” She said. She was not afraid of the Zantu Expanse, in fact, she rarely admitted fear of anything, but they always made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something sinister beneath the surface…something unseen and malevolent. In no uncertain terms, she didn’t trust them. But they paid for the Valkyrie’s services.

“Hey, Chief, do you remember that time, about three days ago, back on Atlas, when I said I needed to fix the collider-brake coolant relay, and you told me to bodge it because we had a job from the Expanse so I only had four hours, even though I needed 12 in order to do the job properly?” She asked, sarcasm bleeding into her voice. “Then do you remember that time, about an hour ago, when I told you that, because I’d had to bodge the job, that we’d need to cut thrust on approach at about five clicks out so we don’t enter atmo too hot and subsequently, on landing, put too much pressure on the brake servos and blow a fuse cluster? Finally, do you remember, about 15 minutes ago, not cutting thrust until less that two clicks out, like I asked?”

She put her hand in her pocket and pulled out the plastic tube with the charred gold wire inside and tossed it down to him.

“That’s a new cooling pipe and a new fuse cluster you owe us.”

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

The landing had been a relatively clean one so far. They hadn’t had any major delays at the orbital customs checkpoints, but that was to be expected, they had papers and their cargo was all above board. They usually got a comment or small hold-up due to the fact that the Valkyrie was a recommissioned military craft, but this time, the fuss was kept to a minimum. Still, she was anxious to get their ground clearance and get off the ship. She loved the old girl but every so often, you couldn’t knock a little D.T.

Her head completely shaved on one side, her blue hair was swept over to the other and a wayward lock fell across her face as she pulled herself slightly out from underneath one of the large circuit modules in the engine room. She pushed it away and before rubbing her heterochromatic eyes. One blue, one grey, it was a physical attribute she had always been ambivalent about. She rolled her toned shoulders and stretched. Come on... impatience had always been one of her less admirable qualities.

Tes looked at a small part she had pulled from her previous position, underneath the module. It was about an inch long and comprising two metal discs, joined together by gold wiring, all within a tubular plastic housing. One of the tiny gold coils was severed, signs of charring showing at either edge of the break.

“For fucks sake…” She sighed.

As she pulled herself completely out and to her feet, she rocked her head left to right, cracking her neck. Placing the small tube in the pocket of her cargo trousers, she retrieved another item. This was a metal oval with an array of tiny LEDs running along its narrow edge and a button on top. It was one of her favourite inventions and she called it an IMP, or Individual Media Port. It was a multi-purpose communication tool that, when twinned with a neurological implant, allowed the user to tune into all main-wave radio broadcasts, closed-circuit, terrestrial and off-world communications as well as listen to music. She pressed the button and the small receiver leapt from her hand. The LEDs lit up, surrounding the small metal object with a very pale blue light. Bound by electromagnetic fields, it began to slowly and unobtrusively orbit the space immediately above and around her head.

Making her way through the engine room bulkhead and into the corridor at the heart of the Valkyrie, she mentally cycled through the library of music stored on her IMP. There was the occasional current song but it was mostly old, very old. For some reason, as with most parts of her life, she found comfort in the past, music by people who were long dead, from places she had never seen, talking about things she had no hope of ever experiencing. She chose a song in the old hip-hop style by a group from Australia on Earth. She liked the rhythm and rhyme and the way it transported her to another place and time. For all the technological advancements she had seen, this was by far the closest to time travel anybody had gotten.

Taking a right, she descended a set of metal, grated stairs and passed another bulkhead to emerge on a gantry overlooking the cargo hold. Back in its heyday, this would have been a holding area for ordnance but the old girl had moved on since then. Tes and the Captain had worked no small amount of magic on her. Barring the decommissioned railgun mount at the rear, you’d barely know she was ever meant for combat.
Looking down into the hold, she was the cargo they were here to drop off. Nothing exciting really, mostly solar farming equipment, panels, photon decelerator units and the like, but it would pay to feed them and keep the Valkyrie in the air a little longer.

Whilst she was looking forward to some D.T, she knew that, as soon as she got settled on the ground, she’d be itching to get back on board and away. There was a saying amongst fliers and crews. If your feet ain’t on the ground, your ass is in the sky. If you asked those who don’t fly, they’d offer their own explanations of it. Some might say that it means if you’re not cut out for terrestrial living, you’ll always long to be in out amongst the stars. Others might have told you that it means whilst you’re still on your ship, you haven’t made a safe landing yet. Either way, those amongst the flying fraternity knew exactly what it meant.

Muting her music, she connected her IMP to the ship’s internal comms.

“Chief, I’m in the cargo bay. We doing this thing or what?”

Valkyrie ~ Science Fiction Adventure ~ (Accepting Applications)

IN PROGRESS

Work still in progress but the RP has begun. I will be updating this post and others in this section with lore, a glossary of terms for reference and any other information that may be useful/interesting/cool etc, as we go along.

- Jin

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Glossary of Terms

D.T

Stands for Down Time. This is a fairly self-explanatory description of time spent on-world and off one's ship etc.

IMP

Invented by Amanda 'Tes' DeVries, an IMP or Individual Media Port, is a multi-purpose communication tool that, when twinned with a neurological implant, allows the user to tune into all main-wave radio broadcasts, closed-circuit, terrestrial and off-world communications as well as listen to music. Tes has also modified her IMP to allow her to monitor all of her ship, Valkyrie's, essential functions.

M.H.L

Stands for Magnetic Holding Lock. These are electromagnetic panels situated in the floor of the cargo bays of certain ships. Twinned with corresponding blocks onto which the cargo is stowed, it allows an electrical current to be run through the panels holding cargo in place.

P.O.H.C

The Planets and Orbital Habitats Commission is a bureaucratic organisation which monitors and regulates various aspects of civilisation throughout this arm of the galaxy. It is responsible for justice, governance, administration of all facets of life across all the planets within its jurisdiction. The POHC is a non-military organisation.

G-Planets

G-Planets are planets, planetoids and moons that are, as yet unclassified by the P.O.H.C. In most, but not all cases, G-Planets are seen as potentially habitable either in their own right, or through terraforming. They are known as G-Planets as each one is assigned an alpha-numeric code with the prefix "Gaia". An example of this might be Gaia(G)-169a4. The unclassified nature of the planet does not necessarily preclude the planet having been settled and/or explored, it simply means that there it has not been the subject of any sanctioned P.O.H.C reconnaissance.

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P.O.H.C Legislature 1.20.1a

Orbital Structure Classification - Excerpt

In order to be classified as an Orbital Habitat, a structure must possess:

- A non-fluctuating orbit
- Population ≥ 20,000

By P.O.H.C legislation, any structure with a population ≥ 20,000 – and therefore classified as an Orbital Habitat - must possess the infrastructure to provide its populace with at least 65% of its survival needs.

Any Orbital Habitat – structure with a population ≥ 20,000 – without the infrastructure to provide its populace with at least 65% of its survival needs will be in breach of P.O.H.C legislature 1.34.9a on Sentient Rights.

A structure is classified as an Immobile Vessel if it possesses:

- A non-fluctuating orbit
- A population of < 20,000
- An agricultural/military/scientific directive (or any combination thereof)

By P.O.H.C legislation, any structure with a population < 20,000 – and therefore classified as an Immobile Vessel - must possess the infrastructure to provide its populace with at least 22.5% of its survival needs.

Any Immobile Vessel – structure with a population < 20,000 – without the infrastructure to provide its populace with at least 22.5% of its survival needs will be in breach of P.O.H.C legislature 1.34.9a on Sentient Rights.

Any Immobile Vessel – structure with a population < 20,000 – operating without an agricultural/military/scientific directive (or any combination thereof), will be in breach of P.O.H.C legislature 3.51.7c on Unclassified Orbital Craft.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

Sorry for the delay, chaps. New post is up. Apologies also for the brevity but, when it comes to combat, I do feel like too much can start to border on masturbation.

- Jin

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

He caught a glimpse of moonlight on steel out of the corner of his eye, coming from one of the rooftops to his left. It merged with a flash of blonde and realised that the young swordsman had not only stayed but obviously had a few tricks up his sleeve. So you’ve chosen your path, boy…well done. In the split second this took, he never took his eyes off the men before him, watching them twitch like coiled springs, waiting for their commanding officer’s order to attack. He had been on both sides of that scene, soldier and commander, and he knew what those men were feeling, the rush, the excitement that flirted with fear and the blood raging in their veins, the trembling that seemed as though it would shake their bodies apart…he felt it now…and he lived for it.

But he wasn’t such a fool to believe his own legend. “Taru the Unkillable” was a myth, and he knew that. Every man who bleeds can die, and he was no different. The pair of crossbowmen at the rear guard bothered him. He had to hope that whatever skill the blonde on the rooftop possessed, he had aptitude for it beyond his years. He knew the order was a breath away, he could read it in the corporal’s face. The world slowed and everything came into focus. The pattern of his attack and defence played in his mind, how he would move and when he would strike.

“Kill him!” The corporal cried.

Before the command was finished, Taru’s weapons were in his hands, epee in the left, wakizashi in the right. The first man was too eager, charging from his commander’s left into an almighty sword swing. Eager but slow. As the blade came down, the arc aiming for Taru’s head, the swordsman stepped inside the soldier’s guard, flipped his wakizashi into a reverse grip and brought its curved blade up and underneath the man’s breastplate. It cut through his flesh and bit hard into the underside of his ribcage. Taru pulled the sword free and brought his fencing epee up to defend a horizontal strike from the soldier on the other side. Despite its thin blade, it was as strong as any weapon he had ever held. The wounded man fell, blood pooling in his chest cavity, a doubtless torn lung collapsing within his ribcage.

The second man was quicker and another swift horizontal attack from the other side forced Taru to deflect the blow over his own head with his wakizashi. This set the man off balance, the weight of his blade carrying him, leaving his head and neck completely exposed. A blur of Taru’s steel rapidly separated one from the other. Scarlet sprayed skyward and the man’s body crumpled.

In the fray, he hadn’t heard the crossbow being cocked. What he did hear was string loosen and the bolt leap from the frame.

The Chaos of Butterflies - Small Group Fantasy RP - *Still Accepting Applications*

Taru watched the boy leave and cast a glance at the bartender. It was clear from the look in the man’s eyes that this wasn’t the normal way of things. It was obvious that he knew the shriek of and Alpha Ablated when he heard it but hadn’t done so down these ends for a long time. Taru cursed himself for his inaction, he knew there was something wrong when the mage and the young blonde first arrived and still remained in the bar. But it was too late to dwell on it now, he would chastise himself in his usual way later. He heard the blonde speak to him and turned to look directly in his eyes.

“As far as those approaching soldiers are concerned, we’re already guilty.” He began. “If we don’t leave now, we risk bringing whatever is due to us down on the heads of everyone in this bar.”

He turned back to the barman. “All your jars of Frowthorn…break them.”

“All of them?” The barman replied. The man clearly was not fond of the idea. In addition to its ability to confuse lesser Ablated, it was often sold for its impressive healing qualities when blended correctly. Destroying the entire supply could prove costly for the Stiltwalker’s Fall in more ways than one.

“Pull the whole shelf down!” Taru barked. “There was a brawl in here, at least one mage was involved and, when you tried to throw them out, it escalated and they destroyed your entire stock of Frowthorn. That should be enough to satisfy the guards if they come in here. I won’t hold it against you if you were to point them in our direction.”

The man simply nodded as Taru turned back to the youth. He saw something of his younger self in the boy’s eyes. He knew the fire that burned within them all too well. The flame of righteousness, a soul dedicated to honour but unburdened by the shackles one forges for oneself in pursuit of that honour. For a brief moment he envied the boy. He saw in him the same thing he had seen in the young soldier at the gate that afternoon. The glimmer of greatness. He pushed the thought away.

“By The Veils, boy, I honestly don’t care what you do! Any life lost is regrettable but this world isn’t short of families, certainly not here in Dalvastre. You can either let villains carve out your path for you as the hero or you can carve your own.” He hesitated…these felt like someone else’s words, but whose? Like the face of the mage, they pulled at the strings at the back of his mind but he couldn’t tie them down. He saw the vision of bandana but then it vanished into the mists of his mind. What concerned him more was that, despite these words feeling so familiar, he didn’t disagree with them. “But if you want my advice…” He said to the young man. “Get out of Dalvastre. Something stirs underneath theses streets.”

He turned to leave and got as far as the door before turning back to the bartender. “You were right about the D’ol Dathri whiskey…it really does glide over the tongue.” With that, he pushed the wooden door open and strode out into the night.

He hadn’t realised how strong the smell of Frowthorn was in the tavern until he found himself breathing in the air without it. He glanced left and saw the glow of torches carried by the city guards, and right to see the considerably larger glow of the house the mage had set ablaze. He began to cross the square onto which the tavern faced. He kept a walking pace as he crossed the mosaic on the ground, partially lit by the fractured light of the sporadically lit gas lamps. He didn’t make it to the other side before the soldiers turned the corner.

"You there! Halt in the name of the emperor!” The leader shouted.

Taru found himself with a decision to make. He was within dashing distance of the alley opposite the inn and, with a few strides, could be out of sight. He knew he could outrun the soldiers and he could keep running until the scent of Frowthorn and the arcane echoes left behind by the young mage wore off. But running had never been his style. After all, he had done nothing wrong. So he stopped.

As they closed the distance on him he saw her, the Alpha. What a wretched creature she was and what a being she could have been. Her hair was thin and what was left of her clothes clung to her emaciated frame like the tattered standards of a lost war. Like her two male counterparts, she strained against her shackles, shrieking and moaning, her eye closed shut around that horrific obsidian needle. He pitied her and, by extension, hated the men who kept her chained like a dog. They stopped a few feet from him, the Ablated all pulling against their bindings in the direction of the tavern and the escape route of the mage. Unfortunately for Taru, the latter was right behind him.

“Let me see your papers, mage!” The leader ordered. He was a large man, broad shouldered and tall. He had the posture of a seasoned soldier but only two stripes embossed into the steel shoulder guards of his armour. Only a corporal. He was right about the number. There were eight soldiers in total. The mouthy corporal, five other infantry and two crossbowmen.

“I’m not a mage.” Taru said calmly, ensuring he never once looked back at the tavern.

“Well these creatures seem to disagree.” He sneered.

“Perhaps what they are really looking for is over there.” He nodded his head backwards, in the direction of the increasingly obvious flames and smoke.

“Another squad will see to that, I’m not going to be known as the man who let a mage escape. Now throw down your weapons and come quietly or we’ll have to take you down by force.”

"I have an imperial writ of passage into and around Dalvastre upon request of the emperor…” Taru began but he knew the type of man this corporal was, ambitious, stubborn and dumb as a bucket of bricks. Taru stretched out his fingers and took stock of each man in the squad’s position. This was more difficult than normal thanks to the gnashing and flailing of the chained Ablated but he pushed the noise away.

“I’ll be sure to read it after I pull it off your corpse, mage!” The corporal spat.

Shifting his weight, his arms fell to his hips and he sighed. He knew there was something about tonight.