Star Cat

Incident Report #4352356-BII001

You apes wanna live forever!?

Galactic Renaissance

Blue Heaven: An asteroid outpost, once thriving as a mining town, now tapped out and dry. Leaving only the unfortunate enough to miss the last freighter off this rock; turning this place into a slimy den of low-end crime. People only driven to do what they do to survive out here on the fringe colonies. The frontier mining town used to have everything a spacer would need; but when the ore dried up, so did the shipping lanes. Now everything sold was old scavenged equipment from the mines, or still had blood spatters on it from Spacers out in the wild. The general store became more of a generally empty store. The doctor had hightailed it out on the last freighter, and the pharmacist turned shiner; running the still for the bar.

Power was available, but scarce. Dim, old, neon lights offering most of the illumination out on the streets. Their colors flashing and blinking a spectrographic display of lights, buzzing and humming quietly in the empty streets. The only set of lights that didn't flicker or waver belonged to the bar. Heaven's Blues is what read in the elaborate cursive tubing that pulsed a bright and vivid baby blue color. Inside was a typical crowd. People drowning their sorrows, surely and burly merc's sharing war stories; and of course, others trying to find a crew to get the hell off this rock.

Sitting at a table that was a little too big for him; was a small bipedal feline. Orange and white in color with vivid tritium green eyes. His eyes almost holding their own neon glow in the darkness. He was wearing a red leather Bomber jacket which had a bit of bulk to it; even possibly having a plate-carrier stitched in the back. Black pants which were baggy around the waist, seat, and thighs; but would tighten up and cling to his ankles. The pants giving the illusion of feeding right into his boots which were of the same shade of black. A revolver-style pistol was nestled in a holster on his hip, while an egg painted with in tan colored camouflage clung to his back through what seemed to be a magnetic attachment point. He was standing on the seat, leaning against the table as his bright eyes searched around for any viable candidates.

There was a small group of empty bottles piling up in front of him as yet another beer was being sucked down. Emptied, it found itself sliding into the others with a sharp and crisp clink of glass as the ginger tom then let a belch rip. No other patron bothered to look his way, as just like him, they had been here for hours. The only difference being the regulars were looking to wash away their woes, where as this 3' 4" tall feline was looking for a way out of here. He had a ship, all he needed was a crew now. Operating a craft like his with a skeleton crew of 1 was a terribly bad idea.

Galactic Renaissance

Never too late to apply.

nfg. closed.

NFG. close.

Galactic Renaissance

Name: Orion Rex

Age: 53

Height: 3' 4" [101.60 cm]

Weight: 48 Lbs [21.77 Kg]

Species: Cattonese

Hair/Fur color: Ginger and White

Eye color: Tritium Green

Unique marks: Has an external serial port embedded in the left side of his head, behind his ear.

Background: Orion was kidnapped from his regular life on Mau Ceti by a group of pirate smuggler's at a very young age. At first the outlaws thought they could sell him and several others as exotic pets, but soon learned they were dealing with actual conscious beings and not just stupid animals. A short massacre ensued, leaving Orion the sole survivor of his stolen brethren. For some reason, the ruthless pirates spared him and indoctrinated him into their crew. His small size was useful for them, he could squeeze into tight spots that they couldn't; which was good for thievin'. As the years went on, he grew too big to be useful in the art of 'mail-an-assassin'. So his quick reflexes made the outlaws push him into the high speed anti-gravity racing circuits. Orion excelled in these races, making a killing in winnings, as well as starting a promising legitimate career. He was even forced to undergo extensive surgeries to give him an unfair advantage in the races. Just as things got good, they pulled him from the races and forced him to take on a messier line of work. Having invested so much equipment into him, they figured the best return on their investment was to put a gun in the cat's hands and send him off to do what the feline species does best, Hunt. He complied for a couple of years before he grew tired and weary of the slave work. He absconded away with a ship along with his own personal armory and now lives an aimless life among the cosmos.

Having been a salvager, lone pilot, and part-time assassin for a majority of his life, Orion is grizzled and rough around the edges, regardless of how soft and fuzzy he is. He has been a loner from the beginning of his cosmic career and has a hard time breaking such mentality. He went around stealing what he can to make a profit off it, or make a weapon out of it. Eventually, he found refuge on a space station. Working under the Docking Authority as Impound Admin, Rex often came across many new and different faces. Most often larger than him, he would seem a simple target. Little do people know when they see that small fluffy body, cute little face, and rubbable belly, that they are looking into the hardened eyes of a seasoned killer and cartel member. Orion does hold a certain air of power and authority around him. It may just be the deep and threatening voice, or the hardened perpetual scowl on his face; but many don't dare to deny him the info he demands. A perfect presence for the little dockmaster. It didn't last long though; eventually his owners found where he had been hiding and came to reclaim their property. Escaping just by the hair on his ass, he managed to lose their trail again. Although he comes off as trigger happy, grumpy, and generally being an old salt; Rex does have his more compassionate moments. More than willing to watch your six and toss you an extra magazine if need be, but be damned if you rouse the old man from a cat nap too early.

---

Character Pic:

Hider

Hider

Hider

Hider

---

Body Augmentations:

Metal-Glass alloy skeletal replacements from the neck down.
Central nervous system piggy backed with neural net wetwork interface matrix and ballistics trajectory computer.
Heart replaced with high volume pump to keep him conscious during extreme G maneuvers.

These augmentations give little benefit to his physical strength and were only designed for heightened reflexes, muscle speed, and skeletal rigidity. Beneficial for piloting high speed craft, to combat atrophy during space travel, and predict ballistics pathing

---

PERSONAL RECORD
Was born!
[Age: 3] Picked up by Pirates
[Age: 4] Was taught how to pick locks and open doors.
[Age: 4.5] Forced to start stealing things
[Age: 9] Could no longer be sent into marks via the mail. Was upgraded to pocket picking and smaller petty crimes.
[Age: 10] Received first gun!
[Age: 13] Was taught how to fly; Received Pilot's Certification.
[Age: 15] Was involved in more varieties of jobs. Smuggling, Forgery, Drug Trafficking.
[Age: 21] Was signed into a Pro-Amateur Anti-Gravity race to alter handicaps. Ended up taking first.
[Age:22] Took 2nd in the Wuxi Interstellar 4400
[Age: 23] Took 1st Feisar Tournament
[Age: 24] Signed on as P.T. For Team Mirage.
[Age: 25] First major Aerial Skirmish. 118 Confirmed Kills; Also took 2nd place in the Galactic Grand Prix.
[Age: 27] Under went body augmentation surgery.
[Age: 29] killed 13 high political officials on Giliese 44; resulting in societal collapse and aerial war. 770 Confirmed Kills.
[Age: 30] Lost the Icaras 5-lightyear Dash by .0047 of a second.
[Age: 30] Took 1st in the Triakis Super 600
[Age: 31] Signed on as Head of Engineering for Anti-Gravity Systems.
[Age: 32] Took 1st for every event in the FX9000 Championship
[Age: 33] Placed 4th of 3,028 in the T.G.E.E.R.
[Age: 36] Assisted in the destruction of planetary body 49-19K; Aerial Battle; 438 Confirmed Kills
[Age: 40] Assisted in Heist; killed all associates.
[Age: 41] Fled from his remaining 'employers'
[Age: 48] Hijacked gold mining operation.
[Age: 53] Assembled a Crew

Voice claim: Tom Lister Jr. (Reference: youtube.com/watch?v=J-IIwSu_yyo )

Galactic Renaissance

How far will you run from your problems?

There's no doubt, everything is in space. You'll come across something you don't like eventually. The question is, will you face your problems head on? or run from them for as long as you can?

A clan of pirates, known throughout the galaxy as the 108 Stars, has put their fingers in nearly every pot. The 108 becoming a nearly household name, only intended to be whispered to an uncle in the backroom of a basement. Their aggression and ruthless tactics let them bully their way in and clamp down on their current victim. This goes without saying, the wake of people dealing with the collateral are often filled with revenge, but none have yet to achieve it. Some even succumb and lay their legion with the 108; If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

Galactic Renaissance

Here, we will find a small group of individuals who have found common ground, or at least a use for one another. Could be simple drifter colonists trying to find a new home; or even a pair of smugglers running from the next job, to the next, to the next. Regardless the background or credo, our group has found binds and relationships that brought them together.

The reality of this realm being a rough one. Although the stars are full of light, life, and beauty; the duality of existence dictates the underbelly of such beauty must exist. An underbelly that is no stranger to trafficking, slavery, extortion, and the common dealings associated with such underhanded trades.

Our captain has clawed and fought his way out of this underworld, and now seeks something a little more legitimate to round out his final years. Once an involuntary pawn of destruction, He found a way out and took it. Now, with a small ship under his employ, he hopes to fill the empty quarters with a few more crew, maybe even amass a small fleet.

This is where our crew comes in. A random tangle of weirdos, pulled from the cosmic dust. Much like the days of old, if a captain needed a crew (and not the attention of any governing alphabet body) Where would they go to find a crew? What is your motivation? What makes you want to travel the stars? is it revenge? seeking knowledge, or some kind of treasure? The answer is more obvious than Jizz being blasted out on stage by the band.

---

• 18+ ONLY
• Group max of 5
• No minimum post req. (But be warned, lack of content will result in lack of story.)
  
  
  
  • There will be peril
  • There will be death
  • If you don't make the cut, there is no participation trophy. Tough.

Make a basic character sheet and submit it for review.

Hider

I'm not going to make it for you. But here's an example.

---

Name:
Age:
Height:
Weight:
Species:
Hair/Fur color:
Eye color:
Unique marks:
Background:
Equipment:
Character Pic:
(Add whatever else you want.)

Galactic Renaissance

How far will you run from your problems?

There's no doubt, I'm an idiot and don't know how to use this place yet, but everything has moved over here.

roleplayerguild.com/topics/189846-gal…

---

Honk Honk.

Celestial Recovery And Wreckage Clean-up

Closed

Obligatory First post

Mostly do sci-fi based RP's, but willing to discuss a SL. Hit me up.