Steel Legion

Current Mood in One Gif

[Blocks your path]

Warrior Cats Role Play

You millennials are probably gonna turn out alright...

Is there such a thing as a merchant cat?

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Fret Chappel : Human : Prospector

"Ooof"

Fret could see a ceiling above him...

His vision had come back on line.

Someone had said something to him.

"Yeah, just fine..." he said back to the new acquaintance.

He grasped the rifle, which was laying across his chest and lifted it off his face.

He was alive. Thats a start.

He slowly creaked and sat upright. But why was it hurting so much?

He could hear the low rumble of the engines in the background.

He knew what that meant.

He could also hear some chatter over the comms "start the launch sequence" was one part he made out.

He looked about worriedly then opened the door to the conference room and stumbled in.

He looked down and fabric swivel chairs were rooted down, and yes, every one had a seatbelt.

Why was it hurt-- his fingers had quested down to find a tear in the red shirt he was wearing, and felt where it was warm.

GhaH, somethings clipped me! He thought to himself.

He felt the ship jerk with acceleration as it started to move.

As his body started to list sideways, he rounded the seats and sat in the chair and buckled in.

He felt the acceleration growing, faster and faster.

Soon its gonna get real. He said to himself.

A few civilians darted in the room and he tried to shout over the engines and point to the seats.

They gratefully sat down and fiddled with their belts. One was a blonde woman and the other a teenage boy.

His rifle slid down to the ground and slid to the back of the room as the acceleration began to gain pace.

𝚆𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝

Ok. But how futuristic can i get with it?

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Fret Chappel : Human : Prospector

After having ducked back behind the big landing wheels Fret was waiting for return fire to thump around him signaling that they knew the deal.

But instead, he heard a pop of smoke... It was close.

Curiously he peaked around the side of the tires,

And was enveloped with a mist that caused his bionic eye to fizz and then...

Gone.

He was now as blind as the day he'd lost his eyes.

He flicked through the various vision modes. All blank.

"Oh im TOAST..."

His mouth went dry as the adrenalin started to coarse up from where his kidneys were. His body temperature suddenly dropped and he started shaking uncontrollably.

"TOAST! TOAST! TOAST!" was all the little voice in the back of his head was saying.

He could only roughly remember where the boarding rampway was.

He knew they'd be heading there. They knew where it was...

He heard a voice coming from over by the big shuttle bay hatch.

“We are LEAVING! Everybody get in, now!” She bellowed.

“TAKE IT EASY! ONE AT A TIME!”

He took off at an awkward run. Unsure of every footstep, he stumbled about 10 to 14 steps…

he should be roughly there…

…He felt the surface under foot change from asphalt to a harder metal surface. Slowly his vision snowed…

Then he felt someone grab him by his shoulders and throw him to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Was he in the ship? As soon as he was in his vision came back to life.

Who had grabbed him? The voice?

Are we leaving??????

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Sorry for not replying i'll get more free time soon to do so.

Mafia Crime Family RP

@MisterBobbyPin

The problem is that while i like the whole gangster era. I just cant do crime. Crime sucks.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Fret Chappel : Human : Prospector

After the rifle was full of its lethal payload he left the small metal room and cautiously padded down the corridor towards the embarkation point passed the belly of the spacecraft. As he got down there he could feel the cold of the wind blowing up through the cargo hatch.

He felt his hair stand on end; he had left his winter coat in the room. He was naturally quite resistant to the brisk air. Wearing his red shirt and hi-fibre slacks with suspenders.

As he exited the hatchway he could see a large group of what looked like civilians. They were being kept at bay by a couple of bots that were spitting sparks at them. There was much confusion as they were trying to make their way to their flights, this could very easily turn to panic.

"Someone needs to keep them calm." thought Fret

He raised both his arms like a cactus and walked calmly to the group. Rifle held pointing straight up in one hand.

"Calm... Calm" he said

"Remain Calm."

His voice was almost completely lost in the worried murmuring. However, his arm was not. He was armed. The civilians looked upon him with equal parts fear and awe. They probably didnt speak old English.

"What can i do?" he thought.

He accessed his third eye and found his personal playlist, then set its speakers to max.

Music

The local area around him was filled with bemused and quizzical looks. However most of them couldn't even hear the music over the wind.

"Thats right... Happy, happy... yes" he said and smiled.

And for a moment. It was.

"Yes, remain calm, the security w-"

________________________________________ Then It Started _______________________________________________

Then the bullets started flying.

Screams and confusion started out.

The civilians started to charge past him. Which took only a second. Then he could see over by a police car a fierce firefight had lit up.

"Shit, i need to find cover"

He looked over and around, there were a few boxes... but who knows what they contained... fuel cells that would go up like a firework? Nah.

He crouched and duck-walked / sprinted over near one of the big landing gear tires of the Jotunheim.

"Good, with the weight of this thing these tires are probably thick as steel." he thought.



He leveled his rifle so the iron sights lined up... Which took some trial and error.

Sure it was old generation but he didnt want to have to teach a new one how to shoot again.

With any luck, it would know how to shoot this type of target. The projectiles themselves would do the aiming with aid of onboard microchips in the rifle.

He paced himself.

He knew that, once he'd shot they'd know where he was.

The situation was degenerating quickly, and what sounded like a GAT-9 heavy machine gun was going on.

He cycled through the various modes in his cybernetic third-eye. Heat, electrical, polarised light etc. There was a small group of... somethings... putting up a fight. He couldnt really see them because they had IR blockers on.

Then he had an idea.

He looked at his WIFI list. There was a loading animation.

Slowly they started being populated.

He could see 3 civilian ones. He looked around, most of the civilians had sprinted off. There was a few phones laying on the ground over by where he was.

"One, two" he said.

Then a few weird ones popped up. 5 in total. Had no kind of address he'd ever seen before. They were obviously the comms of task force "fast course" over there.

The animation was still loading.

There.

One... two... three... 8 pings... that must be from the enemy team.

Just then he saw the enemy team break cover and try to blitz up on the defenders.

They were rattling away with carbines and some serious shit was going down for them.

Then the smoke from the police car cleared with what looked like someone laying down by it,
and he got a clean shot on the HMG-guy. He was wearing huge armor, but this didnt deter Fret.

"Sorry..." -POP- -PPOPP-

He immediately flipped around behind the cover. And breathed out.

Mafia Crime Family RP

Is it 1920s?

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

Fret Chappel : Human : Prospector

Music

Fret walked down the cold metal lining with the artificial air of the space ship corridor. It was a cramped corridor.

Shortly, he found what was to be his quarters.

Walking inside the brushed steel miniature room,
a small bed that slid out from a drawer he unslung his survival burgen and sat it alongside one wall. The door closed behind him with a reassuring k-shuuk. "distinctly nordic", he thought.

As he was early for his flight, a flight that might last months or even years he decided to make himself at home in his new room. Without taking his boots off he slid the bed back into its drawer half way and sat down with the back of his head resting on the frame. He began to do his meditation. Closing his eyes with legs crossed he tried to find the golden light. The one that had been left in his burnt retinas.

After he had been injured by a star grenade he had had to spend weeks in convalescence, left with the golden light. At first it had been painful and had kept him crying out and sweating all night long. After about a week he had decided he just had to make peace with it. And the pain had subsided.

So there it was, the golden light. It was getting harder to find now as he had more distractions in his life. But he had gotten used to it. Indeed it actually seemed comforting.

Not many people would volunteer for such a journey that would last years, possibly a lifetime on an alien planet.
Especially one that just involved checking rocks constantly and logging mining sites. Sites to be sold to future corporations that likely didnt exist yet. Many burnouts would be aboard this ship, he knew.
"I wonder what it would be like to meet them. Their stories."

When the claxon started going off his eyes shot open. Including his cybernetic third eye implanted in the middle of his head. What on earth could this be? He heard the announcement over the tannoy. "Well" he thought "I am not security personnel so i wont be troubled with it". Feeling uneasy he got up and slid the small metal tab on his door to the locked position. "There, i cant be killed now..." he thought.



After a little while he started to pace up and down the miniature room. I say, pace, it was more like one two steps and turn and then another two steps and turn.

"But what about the others...?"

After a little while he moved over to the survival burgan and opened the rifle holster and slid out the rifle. Nervously he digged around to find a small box in his backpack. He popped open a cardboard cartridge box by crusing it with the palm of his hand on the bedside... and began thumbing cartridges down into the circular magazine. One-two-three. He listened out for anything dangerous outside.

"Bloody ME, its not like i havent seen enough killing to last TEN lifetimes." he cursed quietly.