Status

Recent Statuses

21 hrs ago
Current No. Society cant exist without comforting lies.
9 days ago
My romantic interest in my tabletop rpg went insane and died. I'm more torn up than over some RL relationships !
8 likes
11 days ago
Had an idea for a Sci-Fi rp where we play a team of mercenaries who travel the galaxy manufacturing wars for clients.
2 likes
17 days ago
We need to replace the salt in our systems somehow.
1 like
21 days ago
The fact that Sour Patch candy corn exists should put to bed the consistent rumor of a merciful God. At all costs, I must avoid the stores tomorrow.
3 likes

Bio

Late 20's. I know just enough about everything to be dangerous.

Most Recent Posts

You need to be at least this tall to ride this ride.
Sayeeda was not crazy about all the angles of attack the large engine room provided. For the first ten minutes she scanned unceasingly but boredom set in sooner rather than later. With no sound but her own rhythmic breathing and the occasional clink of tools, their vibrations transmitted through the hull to her boots there was nothing to occupy her.

Neil kept up a constant chatter, mostly technobabble which she sometimes grasped and she sometimes did not. It seemed that the engines were at least fireable, but that the damage the ship had suffered had triggered a variety of shut outs, some of which were intentional and some of which were hardware failures that Neil now had to find work arounds for. It wasn't tremendously interesting to listen to but she understood its importance.

"Junebug, er I mean Captain!" a voice crackled in her ear. She started slightly at the unexptected voice before recognising it as Taya. The girl sounded in a panic even over the radio distortion.

"Six here go ahead," she said, lapsing into correct commo protocol even though the girl was not using it herself.

"The... the ship, that is Lonney, says that one of the xenos ships is burning towards us, what do I do?" the girl babbled.

"Take a deep breath, can you send the telemetry data through to my helmet?" she asked calmly, clicking her visor over to display the incoming signal, a moment later the telemetry appeared as a fifty percent mask. Neil paused in his labor and looked up but judging she had it under control and retuned to her work.

Two courses showed up on her visor, one in blue pastel the other in red.

"Boster display intercept time..." she started to say but the view already was refining first showing the intercept time - 41:35 - and then adjusting for weapon range based on estimated values from sensor data.

"Taya are you...?" she started to ask but the display refined again adding in the time increment that she and Neil had taken to reach the engineroom. Red line was 23 minutes, either they could get the engine started or they would have to haul ass back to the Highlander and boost away at maximum survivable G's.

"Is that what you wanted?" Taya's voice asked, nervous yes but excited also.

"Yes that is wonderful Taya," Sayeeda responded marvelling at the girls easy grasp of infomration systems.

"Neil we got twenty minutes to fire this bitch up or we have to scrub!"

@POOHEAD189
You can go ahead and post Jason, need some time before Ill be ready to write.
I'd be tentatively interested in the pilot slot. Alot of my childhood was spent reading books about a certain British ace!
Also Id like to put the rumors to bed: @Naril and I really are the same person.
Hopefully writing will be cathartic, loving everyone's posts. The intention is to have a short interval of safety in which we can plan and work out the interpersonal drama a little before the enemy find Morgan's FBI badge and put two and two together.
I apologize for the delay, dealing with some family issues.
Oppurtunity had initially taken the man as another of the reporters looking to take a quick photograph or take a comment but the reference to Silvano snapped her head around. Her uncle Archibald Knox had been a long time associate of the old man who, from his comfortable home in Chicago, had outfitted expeditions from Peru to Tibet.

"Excuse me sirs," she told the reporters and stepped into the crowd towards the newcomer, patting her velize to make sure that the bankers check, first prize and good for two hundred pounds, was still securely tucked safely into her pocket. Smiling at the bartender she set the trophy on the polished wooden surface, with a congenial smile the balding man set it on the liquor shelf, out of reach of the crowd that was begging to dissolve into the good nature hub hub of congenial, if somewhat eccentric English society. Across the room she noted the glowering form of Jean de Renard, still dressed in his leathers and glowering at her. She had beat his time by nearly twenty minutes and the Frenchman clearly wasn't pleased about being bested by a woman. She tossed him a jaunty salute to which he turned his back. Taking a pint of the craft beer the bartender was pulling she turned back to the newcomer, an American by his accent.

"Well sir, I am Opportunity Knox and I am a pilot for hire. You will have to forgive the name, my parents were indecently fond of puns," she quirked her lips by way of good natured apology.

"Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?" she asked congenially, nodding towards the open door in suggestion of a walk.

@Nobodyman123
Sayeeda had taken the academy course in zero-g combat but it wasn't a skill that she had found much occasion to practice. Neil and the Xenoid tumbled in the air, their motions made awkward and clumsy in the zero gravity. Reaching back the unsnapped her plasma rifle, bulky but the right choice for the job due to the low recoil, and sighted down the barrel at the spinning pair.

"Would you fucking shoot it already?!" Neil yelled, awkwardly striking at the xenoid with a closed fist, imparting another new and erratic spin to the airborne tumble. THe affair was oddly silent in the vacumn, the only sound coming across the radio. Both human and alien flashed through her sight picture as she leaned back to brace her body against the bulkhead.

"You really want me to rush this?" she replied archly, focusing over the holographic sights and bringing her breathing under control. The alien clacked its mandibles shut, nearly getting a hold of Neil's flailing arm.

"I take your poin..." The room light with cyan as she squeezed the trigger. The Xenoid's neck burst like a bomb as the plasma bolt connected. The thrust of vaporising tissue shoving Neil and the creatures body into a tangle of hanging cables. The head sailed off on its own trajectory, trailing a floating mist of ichor and greyish particulate as it bounced of the metal surfaces like a slow motion holo-snooker ball.

Neil was tangled in the wiring so she clipped the rifle to an attachment point on her webbing and twitched her toes to disengage the magnetic locks from her boots. Gently she kicked off the deck and floated gracefully up towards the pilot, drawing a multi tool from her belt and powering the blade as she drifted. With a few quick slashes she cut the wires that entangled him and kicked off drawing them back down to the deck. In theory there was no reason that the floor was preferable to any other surface but it had the virtue of being relatively clear of the equipment that clogged almost every other available space aboard a starship.

"What are the Xenos doing here?" Neil asked once they were safely magnetically locked to the deck. Junebug unslung the rifle and let if float infront of her in a patrol carry.

"Boarding torpedoes I suspect. Old school pirates sometimes use them but the kinetic shock makes them a bit of a dated choice. From what i understood from the Biologos down there these things dont really have discrete organs as we understand it, so maybe the shock isn't a big issue."

Leaving the presidium they found a large lift shaft that rand down the spine of the ship. The car was unpowered of course but Neil was able to run a quick bypass to get the doors open. According to the scematics they had the engineering section was about a half a kilometer aft. Sayeeda stepped into the shaft and kicked off like a swimmer careful to say close enough to the side of the shaft that she should kick off again should some xenos horror spring up out of the darkness. The headlamp on her helmet stabbed forward like a lance in the darkness.

"Next stop Engineering," she declared over the comm.
I'm not totally gone but my father has recently been diagnosed with cancer and it isn't going well. Its eating up most of my time/energy.
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