The Arm [started]Grim dark yo'fizzle
- Thread starter The Tommunist
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I've already sent a message to someone who might be interested, but they're not online and I have no idea what timezone they operate under.The Tommunist said:your in!jad4400 said:one more and we can start.
*wanders off to write first post*
Yay! As for the reason, my character is broken wanderer with a honorable past (yawn, I know) so a few quick bucks is all he motivation he needs to risk his life.
I've decided that I want to join. This looks really cool.
Name:Joke Machiavelli
Sex:Male
Profession: Mercenary/ Chemicst
Home planet:
History:
Weapons: Xavier's Myst is Joke's main weapon. He carries an illegally moddified silenced sniper rifle (known as the P.O.I.S.I.O.N series long range rifle) that can fire the glass canisters that he keeps Xavier's Myst in as well as standard bullets. Beyond this, he carries a pair of small TK-42 Sub-machine Guns, an electrically charged short sword, and a few glass grenades that also contain Xavier's Myst and explode when they are set and thrown.
Armour: Joke wears a set of standard bullet resistant armor. Strong enough to take a hit or two, but nothing special. He does however, wear a special bandoleer that is made out of non-metalic components, and helps to prevent the glass he carries from getting shattered.
Sex:Male
Profession: Mercenary/ Chemicst
Home planet:
Joke was born to a small colony on the planet Zenx. Zenx was a natural planet, much like the earth, and it boasted great oceans, tall carbon mountains, wide plains, and lumbering forests. The planet seemed like an ideal spot except for one small fact. The air contained a rare chemical that caused metallic bonds to break apart slowly overtime, resulting in a deformation of metal into dust. As a result, the planet was left alone and not much colonization was ever done. Metal objects could be saved only if they were not exposed to the air. The plant life on the planet was extremely interesting, and had many wondrous applications that scientists wished to study, but they could not as the plants would die too quickly when uprooted, and they could not be grown anywhere that did not have the metal breakdown chemical, referred to as Nature's Myst. Animal life was not seen on the planet beyond the microscopic level.
Joke is from the planet Zenx, a planet that contains an airborne chemical that breaks down metallic bonds in most metals. The planet is rich in plant life and water, but the chemical, Xavier's Myst, prevents much colonization.
Zenx was established by the followers of a cult who believed that humans had taken technology too far, and they decided to become one with nature. As such, the cult took a ship to their new colony, and disembarked with nothing but homegrown food and stone tools with which to begin a new life. The colony began with some 2000 settlers along the plains that stood between a great tropical forest, and a large ocean. The colony soon settled and took root, but after four years a terrible disease struck and the colony. Without any modern medical science, they soon fell till only one young man remained, untouched by the plague, Joke. This man had been a chemist before he joined the cult, and he had only joined because his wife had soon before the colony was started. Unknown to some of the cult members, Joke had smuggled some of his chemistry supplies with him, and he had been studying Xavier's Myst ever since he arrived. Before his chemistry tools were broken down completely, he had learned how to synthesize Xavier's Myst and had also learned that when concentrated into a liquid form, it would turn metal to dust in a mere few seconds. He also learned that Xavier's Myst did not affect glass, which provided him with a method to transport the liquid. If the liquid is exposed to air however, it will turn back into a gas and disperse after a few second. After the death of the colony, Joke lived alone in the wilderness for a one year, until a new batch of colonists, also members of the cult arrived. Joke warned them of the plague, bu the cult decided to remain on the planet regardless. Jake however, took the ship back the the main world, where he became a well known mercenary thanks to his ability to use Xavier's Myst.
Joke was a member of a cult that believed in nor using modern tech, and only relying on simple natural tools. The cult settled on Zenx, and was wiped out. He joined because his wife had joined. He was a chemist, and he learned how to synthesize Xavier's Myst by smuggling chemistry tools with him to the colony. He now works as a mercenary.
Armour: Joke wears a set of standard bullet resistant armor. Strong enough to take a hit or two, but nothing special. He does however, wear a special bandoleer that is made out of non-metalic components, and helps to prevent the glass he carries from getting shattered.
The start
The man sat at the table and smoked the Cigar. he was fat, his hair line receding, a greasy comb over trying to hide this sad fact of life. a long scar ran down one side of his face, a eye was milky white and blind. he was dressed in a colorful shirt, and long work pants. He grinned as you sat down at the table.
"I've got you kids a ship" he exclaimed, his face grinning.
"kids?" a young noble said, his voice raised ever so slightly. "I payed for a a ship for my self "
"Should have read the fine print, its a joint ship. You, and this fine group of investor here, co-own a ship together. And its a fine ship. 2 point FTL, 100 to-" The young noble had picked up the ship salesmen by the scruff of the shirt.
"I want my ship" He growled, his teeth gritted.
"Should...Have...Read...The...Fine...Print" the salemen grunted back.
"You'll hear from my lawyers" The noble shouted, proceeding to drop the salesmen and storm out.
"100 tons of cargo space, 8 class 5 lasers, a shuttle, cabins for 50 people" he continued, as if nothing had happened.
The man sat at the table and smoked the Cigar. he was fat, his hair line receding, a greasy comb over trying to hide this sad fact of life. a long scar ran down one side of his face, a eye was milky white and blind. he was dressed in a colorful shirt, and long work pants. He grinned as you sat down at the table.
"I've got you kids a ship" he exclaimed, his face grinning.
"kids?" a young noble said, his voice raised ever so slightly. "I payed for a a ship for my self "
"Should have read the fine print, its a joint ship. You, and this fine group of investor here, co-own a ship together. And its a fine ship. 2 point FTL, 100 to-" The young noble had picked up the ship salesmen by the scruff of the shirt.
"I want my ship" He growled, his teeth gritted.
"Should...Have...Read...The...Fine...Print" the salemen grunted back.
"You'll hear from my lawyers" The noble shouted, proceeding to drop the salesmen and storm out.
"100 tons of cargo space, 8 class 5 lasers, a shuttle, cabins for 50 people" he continued, as if nothing had happened.
You've all been invited to this meeting, Some of you had come to the salesmen looking for a ship, and are in now the same position as that young noble, scammed into buying a joint ship. others here were looking for crew work, and were told that there would be work here by the work agency's involved. Either way, you have an oppitunity a head of you. Will you take it?
Mila walked into the restaurant, passing an angry noble, fuming about a scammed joint ship. Looking around, Mila saw the ship dealer she had talked to earlier, walking across, she took a seat next to the man and looked at him.
"Let me guess, he didn't read the fine print?" she said looking at him
"Let me guess, he didn't read the fine print?" she said looking at him
Considering Mila bought a share in the ship, but is extremely OCD about reading fine print, is it safe to assume that she and the dealer were able to work something out
Joke was also sitting at the table, but he merely smiled at the man who stalked off. He looked rich, and rich people were the ones who most often forgot to look at the smaller picture. Joke didn't mind that he was now part of a joint operation, in fact, he didn't care about much these days. His hand instinctively reached into his pocket and rubbed over a miniature wooden bust of his wife, all he had to remember her by. After her death he had simply stopped caring about anything but living so she would not be forgotten. "Has the ship got a name yet?" he asked the merchant. "Or if it already does, could we give it a new one?"
"The man i brought it from, he'd called it the "Whiskey *****", but you can change the name well enough"
"If it's okay with the rest of you joint owners, I definitely would." Joke told the merchant and the others sitting around the table. "We should name the ship and our little group something similar. I would like to nominate the name Sinister Fortune. I think it has a nice little feel to it."
Merutio turned the lock and withdrew his IDC[footnote]Identification Card. Works on the principles of quantum entanglement, in that if you halve an atom and then change the rotation of one of the electrons, the electrons in the other half will change spin too.
The net effect is that 56th-century ID cards look purple and glitter.[/footnote], putting it in the thigh pocket of his IEP. The blast doors around the hangar slammed down, shutting off the dropship inside from anything short of an antimatter warhead. He was loathe to leave his beautiful ship behind, but he'd been hired to fly a hunk of junk to pay for his next meal. He walked through the Itralian quarter of the city, breathing deeply in the smells of fresh-baked piazza, boiling tromatoes and those other smells that spelled home.
With a stab of regret, he turned away from thoughts of home and to the impending job. A sneaky old bastard of a second-hand ship seller had set up some poor unsuspecting sods with a communal transport, leaving him (the other poor unsuspecting sod) to pilot a group of whining, eating, breathing people through the hard vacuum of space.
It's going to be hell.
He walked up towards the Itralian restaurant where he was supposed to pick up everyone else and receive the parking docket for the ship. One of the passengers was storming out, shouting inaudibly about (presumably) the shitty sale.
The bell jingled as he briskly slid in through the crowd, and he ordered a doppiole coffee to go at the counter while he watched his passengers-to-be.
The net effect is that 56th-century ID cards look purple and glitter.[/footnote], putting it in the thigh pocket of his IEP. The blast doors around the hangar slammed down, shutting off the dropship inside from anything short of an antimatter warhead. He was loathe to leave his beautiful ship behind, but he'd been hired to fly a hunk of junk to pay for his next meal. He walked through the Itralian quarter of the city, breathing deeply in the smells of fresh-baked piazza, boiling tromatoes and those other smells that spelled home.
With a stab of regret, he turned away from thoughts of home and to the impending job. A sneaky old bastard of a second-hand ship seller had set up some poor unsuspecting sods with a communal transport, leaving him (the other poor unsuspecting sod) to pilot a group of whining, eating, breathing people through the hard vacuum of space.
It's going to be hell.
He walked up towards the Itralian restaurant where he was supposed to pick up everyone else and receive the parking docket for the ship. One of the passengers was storming out, shouting inaudibly about (presumably) the shitty sale.
The bell jingled as he briskly slid in through the crowd, and he ordered a doppiole coffee to go at the counter while he watched his passengers-to-be.
Vince having been stalking rich men looking for a quick wallet to steal. After watching a very large rich man leave he noticed a buisness man who looked alot like the contact he was supposed to meet at that very table in half an hour. Vince then mumbled to himself"I hate it when the bastards are early, cuts down on my extra cash". He arrived in time to hear one mad angry about the fine print. Vince then looked at the buisness man, "I was told I had some part in a job for you?"
Shanks stumbled in through the doors of the restaurant. He was drunk. Very drunk. Never start a new job sober, that's what he said. He was being hired by some business man, he didn't know who, he didn't care. All he cared about was that it was work. And work meant money. Money meant he could find his mother's true killer. Shanks sat down on the table, slamming his hand down on the wood.
'So, I hear you have a job for me?'
'So, I hear you have a job for me?'
"Yep. A job. Well, you need to talk to the Honks here who brought the ship, but that should to the people who brought it" he pointed over at Joke and two others who were still sitting at the table