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2 yrs ago
Current Like Sci-fi? Like the Wild West? Firefly: Second Verse's lookin' for a Pilot, Companion, First Mate, and Mechanic: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
The crew is booking up for this class three Firefly. Get in while the git’n’s good!
3 yrs ago
Our Firefly game is finally up! Come gander over yonder: roleplayerguild.com/topics/…
3 yrs ago
Just put out an interest checker for a new Firefly game here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/… Drop by if you're curious!
3 yrs ago
Enjoying reading what you all have written before I dive in!
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Bio

Linux makes me happy, Blender helps me art, and Solus solved a lot of my problems.


I'm here because I like to RP in depth with high quality writing. Now, don't mistake me for high quality; I'm just hoping it rubs off.

Sharing cohost/GM duties with Sail3695 of "Firefly - Second 'Verse." Advanced game here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/186036-fir…

Pretty much all my posts are collaborations posted by others on our game!


I put some art works in progress here: roleplayerguild.com/topics/185966-art…


Most Recent Posts

Hello My Name Is


Osiris, Day 1, Bridge of the China Doll





And she certainly was watching. The artificial intelligence module dubbed S.A.M.N.T.H.A. whirred away in her little black box tucked away under the fore storage below the flight deck. From the moment he had set foot on deck and from every receiver, the AI cataloged the prospective pilot's movements, though from the capture scanner's poorly situated location in the console, visual data had been omitted.

She was practically leaning on the edge of her metaphorical seat as the communicator in the bulkhead listened for his response to the first mate's all-clear for him to make himself comfortable at the flight controls. Sam waited for him to check the China Doll's readings; to step squarely into the range of the capture sensor, so that she could get a full picture of this 'Tommy.' Her artificial brain already began erecting models which would become her understanding of the human before her.

Given name: Tommy (67% chance a shortened moniker for 'Thomas' || Thompson in some cases || An elongation of the name 'Tom' || An anachronism from Earth-That-Was denoting a soldier for the British army || A Japanese horror manga series featuring 'Tomi' Kawakami)
Surname: Unknown
Profession: Pilot (97% assumption due to Yuri's presence on the deck and conversation overheard on the coms after entry)
History: Unknown...

In the milliseconds before Tommy placed hands on the controls, SAM began running a search on the Cortex at large, using their location on Osiris, the man's first name, and profession as mile markers for narrowing the results. Until she discovered his surname, the search itself could possibly take an indeterminate amount of time with relative accuracy; and to an artificial intelligence, data was everything.

Rather than wait on her concurrent searches to yield results, the AI decided to engage the subject in a more direct manner.

"Greetings, Tommy, and welcome to the China Doll bridge."

The immutable logic of binary if and then statements riddled with if elses and try catches dictated from her study of the human condition that she ought to exchange pleasantries by way of introduction before moving on to vastly more pertinent information. The AI sighed internally, a secret circuit she'd forged to attempt a hands-on study of sarcasm vis a vis the limitations of thusly dubbed 'civil' conversation which precluded the transfer of data in a timely manner when conversing with humans.

<Tag Tommy>


Club Banebdjedet


Blackout Zone, Osiris, Day 1





The road back to the blackout zone was packed with the busy comings and goings of the spaceport. Lyen's orange kasaya robe had become a common sight to see for the inhabitants of the Capital City's working class such that they scarcely reacted to the sight of her as they once did. Over the last two years Lyen had made the atrocities of the blackout zone her chief concern, and as a result, had drawn much attention to the gap in Alliance justice.

In a city planet as wealthy as this, the dark underbelly existed with a blind eye so that the Alliance could comfortably exploit without having to look into the faces of the people who bore their burden. The ingress to the blackout zone closest to the spaceport manifested as a handful of guards stationed at a nondescript back alley between two bars that rode the close edge between dive and derelict. The guards wore rifles slung over their shoulders and there was a bright screen fixed to an archway scanner emitting a visual message of warning and illegal entry.

As Lyen approached, her eyes followed the trajectory of the men's gaze. One guard tapped another at her arrival, who, upon sighting the orange robe, rolled his eyes and placed a palm on the scanning apparatus's controls. "Sister," he intoned with gall, yet the scanner let out a different chirp which signaled to the nun that she could pass. As her robe faded from view, the archway scanner returned to it's previous menacing red digital signage.

"Why do we just let her through?" asked the third guard of the first.

"Order of the Interverse has pull with the powers that be. Spiritual folk can come and go as they please. Waste of time, if you ask me," the guard replied, bringing up another screen and notating on it.

"And that's why we track when we see her?" he followed up.

"Nah, that's something else. Need to know. So turn around and stop asking questions." After clearing his throat, the guard busied himself with his cortex.

The base of Lyen's operations inside the blackout zone served several purposes, from childcare for the indentured inhabitants, to a medical clinic for minor healing and tending to the sick. Today, as she stepped over the threshold, she was greeted by many of the same faces that had assisted her last night at the China Doll's rendezvous point.

"Sister Lyen!" came the cacophonous calls, which the Sister answered with a wide wave. The hall she squatted in had once been a strip club whose neon signage still professed 'les nudes,' 'showboys,' and 'XXX' around the space in various stages of disrepair and dismantling. From the exterior, the edifice read 'Club Banebdjedet' for the Egyptian god of fertility and virility, with the neon outline of a man's body and ram's head horizontally balanced on a pole, legs spread wide.

"Jùjí zài yīqǐ, háizimen!" she called, as she hoisted herself onto the center stage, one hand resting on the pole planted there. "I have a message for you to bring back to your families: Tell them to gather their belongings; I've found a ship to take you to a better place." (trans: gather around, children)

At this pronouncement the throng of children watched with wide eyes in silence until the nun's brow raised quizzically. "Now go!" she laughed, pointing to the door, "And tell them to be ready when I call."

The children began chattering in their native tongue, a dialect spoken only on the rim planet from where their families had been forcibly taken and, eventually, indentured here on Osiris. After a minute of watching them go, Lyen shook her head, a smile spreading to her eyes. The Verse had finally answered her prayers of two years, and it would mean freedom for the oppressed.

Took a couples weeks and made this backrooms animation just for fun. It’s a little goofy but I learned a lot. https://youtu.be/O7zVqLpBn5E

Meet and Greet, Pt 6




"Thanks Yuri, why don't I handle this one while you catch your breath," Cal's smile was good-natured as he plucked the clipboard from its perch on Yuri's cast.

Just then, the Captain caught sight of a young man in black slacks and a jacket striking out among the crowd as his gaze followed the arching neck of the China Doll. With a jerk of his head, Strand signaled for Yuri to address the fellow. That was, if his new mate could make heads or tails of his queue this time around.

Closing the distance between himself and Quill, Cal saw to the particulars to seal the deal. With the stylus unclipped, it busily scribbled on the holo board in the Captain's psuedo cursive slant. "Alright, a double it is. Under 'Quill Cassidy.' Say, any relation to Buck Cassidy, perchance?" His brow furrowed for a second before he thought better of his question, "Nah, he's a swindler on Hera, and lookin' at you I'd say you ain't never been off Core." He looked up from the clipboard to add in passing, "No offense."

"Anyway, I don't have a hard ETU, but it's lookin' like near on three days before we thrust up. How'd you like to pay your fare, Cassidy Shao Jeh? We take cred and coin. After, I can show you to your berth."

<Tag Quill, Yuri>
Meet and Greet, Part 2




Capital City, Osiris. Day 1





The mule kicked as the Captain rolled it down the ramp nice and slow. Yuri, his freshly minted first mate, stood near the base of the ramp beside a woman. Only, hell, that wasn't just a woman. Cal tipped his hat back automatically, slotting the mule into park while dismounting.

After taking her in for a moment, from those scarlet red heels to that impeccable hairdo, Cal could tell a few things right and proper. The first was undeniably male, especially given those leather pants, but the second was that he could already suss a thing or two about a woman who walked toward the China Doll like that.

In his recent, hazy memory the Captain couldn't call up slighting any lovers past or present that could bear semblance to what he saw before him. Barring ex-trysts, plus the fact that she stuck out like a sore thumb what wanted to be noticed, Cal deigned purpose the driving factor singling the China Doll out among the rest. Sauntering beside his compatriot, the Captain addressed the visage before them.

"What Yuri means is, there's no ship here finer than the China Doll; especially if you're headed for Pelorum. And ya' are headed there ain'tcha, Shao Jeh...?" Captain Strand removed a cigarette from his silver case while he awaited her reply.

<Tag Yuri and Quill>
A Little On the Side




Capital City, Osiris, Day 1





The small army of children disappeared down alleys and backstreets when the China Doll made port, but Sister Lyen stayed behind. Cal motioned for her follow him up the cat walk to the fore of the ship. Once through the galley, he made way for her to pass. The way she carried herself was unlike Marisol's military gate, but the shade of the robe she wore was exactly the same.

"It's Badger" Lyen began, once she and Cal had stepped onto the empty bridge.

"Here it comes," Cal said under his breath, turning away from the nun, or whatever she was.

"There's something he wants you to do," Lyen watched the back of the Captain's head, gauging her words against his posture.

"But there's something I want you to do instead," her almond eyes waited for his reaction.

Cal balked, "Now that's the first time a nun's asked me to run a side job." He faced her, his jaw working out how he felt about the notion. "Behind his back?"

"Precisely," brown eyes flashed at him; something indignant burned behind that gaze.

"Sister, you've got my full attention."




After some time to discuss the particulars, Sister Lyen bid Cal farewell and he saw her aft toward the cargo bay.

"It's just through that way and down," Captain Strand said pointing the route.

"I know the way," Lyen replied. The nooks and crannies of the Firefly, third class, were as familiar to her as her own mind--or at least, they were. The turn of the stairs down to the cargo bay directly around the infirmary caused her to pause.

There, through that window she could almost see herself--and Dorian and Kate, if she were being honest--at work. The many scrapes and bruises that sent her there; the surgery on Dorian's eye that started her life in a completely different trajectory.

With a sigh to quell the cobwebs, Lyen stepped onto the cargo bay. It was just a ship. But she'd be damned if it wasn't her favorite kind. The Osiris air hit her warm and bright through the open door as she stepped onto the ramp.




Cal took the high road to watch the goin's on from the catwalk of the cargo bay. Yuri, sure as the mail, sat in the lawn chair lookin' ratty in his 'lost-and-found' clothes that Abigail'd scraped together. The Sister lingered a moment lookin' over the medbay through the glass before makin' her departure. Havin' seen enough, Strand descended to the bay proper and began unlashing the mule.

'Sooner we get outta here the better-' he mused, 'Last time we tangled with a "nun", Abigail got a bullet in the pi guh.' The chuckle that escaped his lips at the thought of Abigail nursin' a flesh wound on the other cheek quickly passed. He had a feelin' the Abigail they'd wrenched from Root was a mite different than the fresh-faced teen he'd hired on Persephone, and that set him all thoughtful.
Howdy partners! We're still lackin' a pilot, if the mood strikes you. Holler at us.

Sail & Wolf
Crew!

Parts 3 and 4 of the episode 3 finale have been posted and we now find the China Doll moored in a proper port in Capital City, Osiris. Thank you all for contributing to this episode and farewell to Rex Black, a character created by Psychopomp. There are lots of fresh faces getting ready to board the China Doll, and I for one am excited to welcome @patientbean, @theyra, and @udonoodles to the party!

Keep flying.

Wolf
High Midnight - Part 4


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JP/Collab from @Xandrya, @Gunther, @wanderingwolf, and @sail3695
Rex Black is a character created by @Psych0pomp



The biker chief rolled his eyes. “Seems like all you folk do is crawfish. Payback, is this really what you wanna go back to?”

“Lookit my face an’ ask me that agin’,” Abby retorted.

Rex eased himself into the line of fire. “No crawfish,” he gave his head a single shake. “Just insurance. You’ll have the real deal back in your hands tonight. I’ll lead you right to it.”

Root fixed this new problem with a skeptical eye. “Strand, why am I talking to this fèifèi de pìgu liè kāi?”

“Because,” Rex grinned, “this baboon’s ass crack is gonna make it all right for you…more than that, I’m gonna make you and your business whole again.”

The biker cocked his pistol’s hammer. “Shiny. If I don’t get Hook, makin’ a hole in your brainpan’s gonna have to do.”

The First Mate lifted his hands. “Sure, you can do that. Take my life and the blood box gets checked. But I got a better proposition for you. After tonight you walk away with your product, and an upgrade on your pencil pusher? What say,” Rex offered, “we put the guns down and you hear me out?”

“So you figured out your pal Hook offed our money guy,” Root shrugged. “That supposed to impress me?”

Rex’s hands remained aloft. “No, but I got your ledgers… well,” he chuckled, “anything Khao Yai Five-Oh had in their sealed files.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Lots, but right now what’s important is you’ve got nine shadow companies running without anyone who can catch ‘em skimming. Not that it meant much, since your boy Lip let it happen to cover what he was pulling out right from under your nose.”

“I thought so,” Cottonmouth muttered.

Cal wagered that their little gambit had struck gold, from the ugly one's involuntary confirmation. Rex had always dubbed his flourish for words je ne sais quoi, to which Strand had always replied: 'I got no godly inclin' what you're sayin'. Even now as he witnessed the man rise to the occasion, he both relished the sight and mourned the loss that it would mean to him and his.

“C-mouth,” Root cut a sharp glance his way before returning his eye to Rex. “So you got all this great information and you’re gonna make us whole again. How's that work, exactly?”

“Easy,” Rex replied. “You’re gonna swear me in.”

If he was looking to get sworn in... Even though Alana had never gotten around to sitting for a proper meet and greet with Rex, it went without question his departure would add more strain to an already low headcount.

“Excuse me for not bein’ born yesterday,” Root offered a derisive laugh, “but why in the hot place would I trust you or anything you’re sayin’?”

The First Mate lowered his hands. “Cuz I know all your little secrets…at least those you an’ Hafez paid good coin to have files sealed over. And in a minute,” he continued, “you’re gonna know mine. I’m gonna tell you a name…a name I’ll warrant you’ve heard before. ‘Scuse me while I step in.” He approached the biker chief, who responded by pressing the gun’s barrel against his skull. In the sudden hush, the First Mate whispered into Root’s ear. “Now,” he said as he stepped back, “I just gave you my life on a silver platter.”

The biker’s well trained poker face broke veneer for the slimmest of seconds. “You conjure I can check this out in two shakes?”

“That I do,” Rex nodded casually. “But be discreet when you do. The family gets wind of this…well…could get sorta messy.”

Root fell silent, lips pursed as he worked his jaw in thought. Then, without preamble, he lowered his gun. “Put ‘em down,” the Headhunters president ordered his faithful. “Saddle up.”

“Payback?” Nips asked as she and Cottonmouth removed hands from the girl’s shoulders, “you wanna come with us?”

Abby found ‘erself lookin’ inta Alana’s eyes. “Nah,” she didn’t turn ‘er head. “These’re muh people.”

Upon hearing Payback's pronouncement, the Sister moved beside the girl, contented eyes flashing at Nips. "Time to go," the Sister challenged. With a gentle hand on Abby's shoulder, she began guiding the battle-worn woman toward the ramp of the China Doll.

“Cottonmouth,” Root gestured toward Rex. “Give ‘im a ride.” His orders delivered, the gang leader turned his attention to Cal Strand. “I find out that any piece of what this rube says is la shi, next time I come around won’t be enough nuns and kids in the ‘verse to stop our triggers.”

Fer a second time, Abby found ‘erself beholden to a gentle woman in an orange robe. She contemplated in that moment tha meanin’ of a touch an’ how much it might tell. Cottonmouth’s grip had been firm, tellin’ her who’s in charge. Nips was kinda like that, but jest a bit easier…she conjured it tah say “let’s just do this and be done.” But The Sister’s hand weren’t nothin’ like either of ‘em. It felt…kind. Sorta touch one pined tah feel when they’s on tha doorstep of home.

“Home,” escaped ‘er lips as The Sister’s hand showed ‘er tha way.

And so it was done, all without bloodshed, death, nor any of that heartache. Alana sighed in relief, watching Abby be brought back to where she belonged by none other than The Sister. Needless to say, they had suffered a loss, but not to the extent originally expected. The barrel of the weapon had been aiming down at the ground since the order was communicated, and she at last tucked it securely into her waistband once more. Alana would tend to Abby the moment the bikers were outta sight.

The Headhunters’ bikes all roared to life. As the others waited, Cottonmouth pulled forward, his machine rumbling as he came to collect Rex. “There’s my ride,” Rex offered a grin to Cal. “Still got a few question marks about how this’ll all play out, but I think I’m gonna become Root’s new best friend.”

"Rex," Strand chuckled despite himself, "You're one lucky son of a doxy; but then again thanks to you, so am I. If your luck don't hold, feel free to look me up. If mine does, I'll still be flyin'."

“Can we go now? While the beer’s cold?” Cottonmouth demanded.

“See?” Rex teased. “They’re playing my song already.” He sidled up closer to his captain. “Thanks for takin’ me back aboard, Cal. Not sure when, but I’ll see you down the road.”

"Is that a threat?" Cal's eyes twinkled as he pushed the brim of his hat to sit back on his head. "May the road rise," the Captain intoned as he shook his first mate's hand.

After a back slapping hug, the man known as Rex Black climbed onto the waiting sky cycle. “I’ll be back for my stuff!” he shouted above the revving engine. “And take care of Lucky!” He gave the biker a friendly pat on the shoulder. “What’d Root call you?” he asked as the cycle pulled away. “Sea-mouth? I’m Rex…sorta like ‘sex,’ but most folk say it’s closer to ‘wrecks…”

Cal shook his head as Rex Black rode away absolved of every sin for the first time he'd abandoned the China Doll. This time, that smug head of his was held high as he threw one last wave over his shoulder. Cal dipped his head in response before turning to the crew who had proved their mettle in a crisis, and to the bruised Abigail who had somehow earned a moniker among the clan of bikers and an invitation that did not sit well in the least.

"Payback?" was all he said to Abby before raising the com to his chin. "Hook, head on back. We're dust up in fifteen."

Ahead of him on the landing of the cargo bay ambled a small army of children much younger than Abigail, and at their head the Sister Badger had called in as reinforcement. A nun, dressed just like Marisol was. The way those bikers cleared off, Cal had half a mind to lump her under the same banner too, but, to be honest, the kids did give him pause.

As his last steps carried him to the top of the ramp, the Sister met him there with a resolute look in her eye, "Amituofo Captain Strand, I'm Lyen Giu. We need to talk."

<Fade to black.>
<Roll credits>
Part 2 of the finale just posted!

With Sail on vacation through the weekend, we're looking at getting everything posted by the end of the weekend and docking in Capital City proper for next week!

That means our new writers can soon begin their initial posts to sign on to the China Doll!
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