RPG
Introduction
Dear little planet, turn turn turn
From rock and ash and snowy waste
From precipice to gutted base
Little things crawl into view
Dear little creatures, learn learn learn
Grown talons and claws
Grown empires and saws
Drape your cold mother in green
Dear crowded planet, yearn yearn yearn
Your ears ringing full of bells and toys
Every continent bursting with girls and boys
Oh, for the quiet days
Dear swirling storms, churn churn churn
Cry louder than the bothersome creatures
Wail down their houses obscuring mother's features
Soon you'll not hear them at all
Dear frightened little ones, spurn spurn spurn
Without the might to shout louder than She
Cower and hide 'neath your technologic lee
Your lips cast silent and empty
Dear sands of time, burn burn burn
Introduction
Welcome!
Thank you for taking a look at Crankshaft! I came up with this concept in an attempt to find a roleplay idea that was lighthearted and fun. Despite the brooding overtones of the world, the characters therein should be full of life and vibrance. Let's take a look why!
The World
Across the face of the planet, the Eternal Storm rages on. Its winds can blow away a full grown man, sunder trees, and topple buildings. It has given rise to monstrous creatures that roam the Wastes; the adaptation that the native animals have undergone in order for them to survive the harsh planet. Humanity has found a different adaptation, however. In their time of crisis, with utter destruction at the hands of the storm before them, humanity pulled together past lines of ethnicity and rivalry and found enlightenment as a species. Together, they would devise a way to survive the storm and preserve life and peace. Their solution: the Lee-Walls. These cone-shaped structures shield a village behind them, through a special technologic means that must be carefully maintained and monitored, allowing for the growth of plants and maintenance of wells. These villages are unable to communicate or rely on each other, however, so they must be entirely self-sufficient.
To live in the shadow of a Lee-Wall means that you must mesh perfectly and happily with your given position in the society and play your part in the the machine of maintaining life there. Resources must be carefully grown and used in exact cycles to preserve the balance of the land's nutrients and the well-being of its denizens. The machines within the Wall must be vigilantly observed and parts replaced on schedule to avoid catastrophe. People that can't live in this balance, that live boldly and brightly (for better or for worse,) throw off the rhythm of this human machine. A single part in a settlement, mechanical or human, that goes awry can mean disaster and death... so these people are put elsewhere. These souls whose nature drives them against the current of the machine, errant pins in the engine disrupting the crankshaft that keeps the human race in motion, are placed into NOMAD.
NOMAD (Non-conformate Organization for Municipal Attack and Defense)
This organization, created loosely after years of Lee-Walls regretfully alienating their eccentric members, specializes in putting these unique individuals to good use. They are soldiers, archaeologists, explorers, traders, and their own individual culture all rolled up in one. Each team is small, each individual with their own specialty in the group, and they are given a special transport designed to withstand the corrosive and battering effects of the Storm. It houses everything they need, and is extremely easy to repair and upgrade as the group learns what their specific needs are.
Note that those who live in the Lee-Walls do not look upon these individuals as a blight, however. In fact, ejecting a member from the wall is a last resort that only occurs if the member is unable to find harmony within the society. These departures are sorrowful events for the Lee-Wall denizens, even if they do offer freedom to the misplaced individual. In the bleakest of worlds, humanity has found the enlightenment of respect for its fellow living creatures, and yet in order to survive it must find a way to displace these people.
Your Place In It All
NOMAD is an organization that's held together by bubblegum, baling wire, and three spoon-fulls of raw hope. You and your crew have undergone the training of maintaining a ship of your very own, but there wasn't a single spare vessel on hand upon your graduation! Instead, you and your crew have been given intel about a NOMAD ship that disappeared off the map while investigating a distress call in the Sandsea. Your team is to find the Breaker, recover any crew members that may remain, and salvage it if possible. Your method of approach: a cramped transport that can barely hold four people and several exo-suits so the remaining crew members can follow the caravan on foot.
Your crew has been charged with the responsibility of heeding the orders handed down from NOMAD and to carry yourselves in a manner that won't necessitate other NOMAD agents to put a bounty on your head. The Breaker is an exploratory vessel, chartered with the task of investigating anomalies and new territory. Lee-Walls are no way to continue living; and it is up to the crew of the Breaker to expand the horizon and find a new place that humanity might call home.
Living together, these unique individuals undoubtedly flare. Romances are charged, rivalries bitter, and one individual's problems can be felt shuddering through the group. Learn to get along, don't get eaten by monsters, fight off bandits, maybe investigate a mystery or two, and get that crush to finally notice you: you're going to have a busy time aboard the Breaker.
Character Template:
Name:
Classification: (Refer to the rules for appropriate classifications. Human, Cyborg, Clone, Android, Neko Hybrid, Etc.)
Gender:
Age:
Specialty: (Their job on the ship.)
Appearance:
My Personality: (Perhaps talk about why this personality got them kicked out of their home.
My Likes:
My Dislikes:
Skills: (Aside from the things they do in their specialty. Things like lock-picking, mecha piloting, weapon proficiency, and so on goes here.)
Possessions: (Some of their more important equipment. Tools, weapons, prominent accessories, and cybernetic implants are a few of the things that can go here.)
Mecha Template:
(If your character owns a mecha that they use for combat, put down its specs here and include it with your character. Mecha can range in size. Just remember that the bigger they are, the more complicated they are and the slower and hotter they will run.)
Mecha Name: (You can make up a type, or just give it a nickname.)
Owner: (Which characters will the mecha recognize and allow to pilot it?)
Size Class: (Power Armor - Twice as big as a person and fast. Guardian - Two stories tall and moderate. Goliath - up to five or six stories tall and slow, but a walking arsenal of death.)
AI Name: (Each mecha has it's own AI with a personality. Most will also allow androids to interface with it and become the AI in addition to a co-pilot.)
AI Personality:
Weapons: (Get as creative with these as you can stand. Imprisoning pink bubbles are not out of the question.)
Equipment: (Special armors, sensors or modules.)
Rules
- I am acting as head storyteller/GM/Deity of this roleplay, but it is up to the characters and players whether or not to pursue the bread crumbs I occasionally lay. Mostly, I'm pretty hands-off when it can be helped.
- Obey the rule of common sense when you're advancing plot or introducing things, and any time you have to pause a moment about whether or not you should, then ask myself and those who are affected first. Simple. Clean. Easy.
- All crew members are considered the main characters of the story, but feel free to invent npcs and helpers as the need arises to keep things moving smoothly.
- Play it big. The main characters are the eccentrics, the lovers, the daredevils, the oddballs, and the miscreants whose oddities were so great that there was no way they could live in a structured society without wreaking havoc (purposeful or otherwise.)
- Not only do complex character dynamics make me utter a dapper chuckle and stroke my chin in a most elegant and gentlemanly persuasion, but they're a must in this setting. Love, rivalry, camaraderie, big brother, little sister, subservience, manipulation: each crew member should mean something distinct to each other.
- The accepted archetypes are Humans, Cyborgs, Robots, and pure AI. No extra-terrestrial life or fantasy creatures here.
- Each character may have only one specialty aboard the ship, and their skills should be loosely organized around how they fulfill this role.
- Avoid creating a character whose role is only fulfilled some of the time. What does a Soldier or a Mecha Pilot character do in their down time? Perhaps they are the cook or run programming diagnostics on the systems.
- Technology is understood to be very advanced in this setting, with the exception of any application that could work on a large enough scale to stop the storm or facilitate free travel in the wastes. Ergo, tech-savvy characters can build just about anything their imagination can churn out, but it won't be able to change the overall picture.
- Combat will have a very over-the-top, anime sort of feeling to it. That said, always draw the line between overwhelming power and godmoding. Declare your actions and intentions, and let those responsible determine a fair result. Know when to let a character take a hit, and whether or not they could walk it off. Let situations evolve and create new roleplaying opportunities.
- Members must post at least once a week, or the Storyteller will arrange to put them out of the picture. If the member gives advance notice of how long they'll be gone, then their character will be assumed to be in the background or doing a project for this period of time.
Remember, when in doubt, just ask myself or others if it's cool do do something. 'Nuff said!
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View All »Characters
Leslie Germaine played by Tilting Clock
"You keep saying 'that's now how it is supposed to work' like I've done something bad here..."
Herodotus Pygmalion Blackwall played by Cypher
"Chaos is like strong booze; once you start with it you can't really stop!"
Denis Saint-Genevieve played by Nocturne
Negotiator to the world; Logistician for the crew; Combat engineer to our enemies
Visit »The Orphanage
These poor, unfortunate souls were once a part of this great world, but have been abandoned. Why don't you consider viewing their profiles and making a decision on whether or not you can roleplay them accurately?
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Places in Crankshaft
42 postsCrankshaft
The wind howls. The storms rage. Some day, the clock's gears will saturate with rust and time will flow no more.
0 postsThe Breaker
Rusty. Creaky. Noisy. Virtually every piece of it beyond its warranty. Home.
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Activity
- 53 posts here • Page 1 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
OOC Notes
'The Breaker'
_ . : Specs : . _
Class: Sand Crawler
Propulsion Type: Treads
Speed: Slow
Energy Consumption: Low
Current Reserves: Empty
Weapon Systems: None
Defensive Systems: None
Other Systems: 500M Range Burst Transmitters (Condition: %5 - Ruined)
_ . : Rooms : . _
Master Bedroom (Condition: %55 - Badly Damaged)
Queen Bed: (Unowned)
Room #1 (Condition: %60 - Poor)
Cot 1: (Unowned)
Cot 2: Leslie
Room #2 (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Cot 1: (Unowned)
Cot 2: (Unowned)
Room #3 (Condition: %15 - Ruined)
Cot 1: (Unowned)
Cot 2: (Unowned)
Common Area (Condition: %40 - Badly Damaged)
Small Kitchen
Long Steel Table
TV/Computer Hub
Bridge
Control Panel (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Communications Panel (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Armory
Dock #1: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Dock #2: (Condition: %10 - Ruined)
Dock #3: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Dock #4: (Condition: %60 - Badly Damaged)
Dock #5: (Condition: %25 - Ruined)
Dock #6: (Condition: %10 - Ruined)
Cargo/Passenger Holds
Hold #1: Cybernetics Workshop (Condition: %15 - Ruined)
Hold #2: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Hold #3: Workshop (Condition: %20 - Ruined)
Hold #4: (Condition: %45 - Badly Damaged)
Hold #5: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Hold #6: Library (Condition: %40 - Inaccessible)
Medical Bay (Condition: %10 - Ruined)
Operating Table
Cybernetics Implementation and Recharge
Topside Porch
Lounging Chairs
_ . : Specs : . _
Class: Sand Crawler
Propulsion Type: Treads
Speed: Slow
Energy Consumption: Low
Current Reserves: Empty
Weapon Systems: None
Defensive Systems: None
Other Systems: 500M Range Burst Transmitters (Condition: %5 - Ruined)
_ . : Rooms : . _
Master Bedroom (Condition: %55 - Badly Damaged)
Queen Bed: (Unowned)
Room #1 (Condition: %60 - Poor)
Cot 1: (Unowned)
Cot 2: Leslie
Room #2 (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Cot 1: (Unowned)
Cot 2: (Unowned)
Room #3 (Condition: %15 - Ruined)
Cot 1: (Unowned)
Cot 2: (Unowned)
Common Area (Condition: %40 - Badly Damaged)
Small Kitchen
Long Steel Table
TV/Computer Hub
Bridge
Control Panel (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Communications Panel (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Armory
Dock #1: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Dock #2: (Condition: %10 - Ruined)
Dock #3: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Dock #4: (Condition: %60 - Badly Damaged)
Dock #5: (Condition: %25 - Ruined)
Dock #6: (Condition: %10 - Ruined)
Cargo/Passenger Holds
Hold #1: Cybernetics Workshop (Condition: %15 - Ruined)
Hold #2: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Hold #3: Workshop (Condition: %20 - Ruined)
Hold #4: (Condition: %45 - Badly Damaged)
Hold #5: (Condition: %0 - Destroyed)
Hold #6: Library (Condition: %40 - Inaccessible)
Medical Bay (Condition: %10 - Ruined)
Operating Table
Cybernetics Implementation and Recharge
Topside Porch
Lounging Chairs
OOC Notes
The sun beats, the sand scorches, and all things turn to dust at one pace or another. Today was another day in the storm, monotony disrupted only by a lone figure doing its best to leave tracks in the whipping sand. The Breaker, like many of the vessels under NOMAD, personified defiance of the forces that sought to corrode it. It was not so much a pretty ship, with its blocky design and metal plating that had long been tarnished brown of its original sheen, but old age had made the vessel wily and cantankerous. Its sturdy sonic shielding, a miniature of those used in the Lee-Walls, buffeted the storm every bit as hard as it got. Under the muffle of the buffeting winds, the brazen drone of the shields reverberated for miles. It wanted a challenger. The Breaker was ready to fight nature's entropy with that of humanity.
Leslie lay sprawled out on the common area's floor like a kitten sunbathing, one ear cast eagerly downward. "Brrr-whaaarrn..." Leslie imitated the heartbeat of the great ship as he'd done for the last hour. He was no mechanic, but his intimacy with all the little breaths and sighs the transport emitted had become so familiar to him that it was like another biology to him. The Breaker was in good health today, and would stay well unless it forgot to take its vitamins. He pivoted himself onto his back, exposing his tummy in further imitation of his cat-like repose.
Leslie lay sprawled out on the common area's floor like a kitten sunbathing, one ear cast eagerly downward. "Brrr-whaaarrn..." Leslie imitated the heartbeat of the great ship as he'd done for the last hour. He was no mechanic, but his intimacy with all the little breaths and sighs the transport emitted had become so familiar to him that it was like another biology to him. The Breaker was in good health today, and would stay well unless it forgot to take its vitamins. He pivoted himself onto his back, exposing his tummy in further imitation of his cat-like repose.
OOC Notes
Click.
Half past two. Right on schedule. Of course, that thought was as much of an accomplishment to him as remembering to breathe or waking up in the morning, because come on. David had spent his entire life keeping up with his schedule.
No, it was more the matter of keeping the others on some sort of regular organized routine--rather than letting them gad about aimlessly, letting nothing but their whims and fancies dictate their activities--that concerned him. In spite of tacking up a very beautifully organized timeline of the week, indicating each and every person's duties and chores aboard the ship, there had still been little progress on that front. He'd even been very permitting, and set aside very specific half-hour break times each day!
Sometimes there is simply no pleasing fools.
Stuffing his beloved pocket-watch back in its rightful place, David resumed his work, filing some old documents that were kept aboard the ship in the archive room. He liked it back here. Something about the crisp smell of the binders, the sound of paper rifling as he sorted through them, the distinct lack of loud, obnoxious voices to sour the mood. Yes. There was simply nothing better than--
...what.
His fingers tightened on the offender who had so rudely interrupted his train of thought. What. Was this malarkey? His mouth pressed into a thoroughly unhappy line, pushing himself up to his feet and storming out into the main area of Hold 6, smartly converted into a rather well-stocked library. Really was genius. Normally his mood would be at least a little abated by the sight of such an uninteresting, personality-less space being turned into something so productive and well-organized, but not today.
"Tackstan," he spoke in a terse, sharp voice, gaze darting around the area in search of the one who kept the library. You don't YELL in a library, he was civil enough to remember that. But blast it all, this was important. "Tackstan, where are you? One of the files has been brutally tampered with and I won't stand for it."
Half past two. Right on schedule. Of course, that thought was as much of an accomplishment to him as remembering to breathe or waking up in the morning, because come on. David had spent his entire life keeping up with his schedule.
No, it was more the matter of keeping the others on some sort of regular organized routine--rather than letting them gad about aimlessly, letting nothing but their whims and fancies dictate their activities--that concerned him. In spite of tacking up a very beautifully organized timeline of the week, indicating each and every person's duties and chores aboard the ship, there had still been little progress on that front. He'd even been very permitting, and set aside very specific half-hour break times each day!
Sometimes there is simply no pleasing fools.
Stuffing his beloved pocket-watch back in its rightful place, David resumed his work, filing some old documents that were kept aboard the ship in the archive room. He liked it back here. Something about the crisp smell of the binders, the sound of paper rifling as he sorted through them, the distinct lack of loud, obnoxious voices to sour the mood. Yes. There was simply nothing better than--
...what.
His fingers tightened on the offender who had so rudely interrupted his train of thought. What. Was this malarkey? His mouth pressed into a thoroughly unhappy line, pushing himself up to his feet and storming out into the main area of Hold 6, smartly converted into a rather well-stocked library. Really was genius. Normally his mood would be at least a little abated by the sight of such an uninteresting, personality-less space being turned into something so productive and well-organized, but not today.
"Tackstan," he spoke in a terse, sharp voice, gaze darting around the area in search of the one who kept the library. You don't YELL in a library, he was civil enough to remember that. But blast it all, this was important. "Tackstan, where are you? One of the files has been brutally tampered with and I won't stand for it."
OOC Notes
"Do not cross those wires Caleb. Leslie's resting and I doubt he would want to revive your stupid ass right now," A feminine voice called out over the table a man was hard at work at. The man had goggles on, a soldering iron in one hand and a couple of wire pliers in the other. He wore a grease stained shirt with with sleeves rolled up to his elbows and loose fitting pants. He was hovering over the open body of... Hell, it wasn't clear what it was. It looked to be a handle of some sort with wires sticking out.
The man lowered the pliers and soldering iron and looked up where the voice came from. "Dammit Tally. I know. Just... Just make sure you get all the details right. If this works, I want to be able to build another quickly," While he was talking, the wires inevitably crossed as they slid down the loosened pliers. A sudden yelp came from the man as volts passed through his hand and through his body. He began to wildly flail his hands around in pain and swore under his breath. From above, Tally laughed at his misfortune. "I told you..." Caleb snapped right back, "It was your fault, you distracted me! You suck as an assistant!" His outburst only made the AI laugh all that hard.
"Fine, fine. I got the details. Do not cross the red and blue wires," She said with obvious humor, "What are you going to do if it doesn't work?" She asked in genuine curiosity. Caleb finished flailing about and finally put on the rough leather gloves he had on the table. Mighty late, but better late than never, right? The mechanic picked up the wires once again with the pliers this time far enough apart in order avoid unnecessary electrocution. "What am I gonna do? Guess... Chuck the crap right out the window." "Of course..." was his response. He ignored it and continued with the work. He pressed down the blue wire on a small silver node and soldered there. Then came the red wire. He wrapped it around the blue wire, letting the insulated plastic protect it from the transfer of electricity. Tally kept quiet during this, as this part was the most danger of the entire project.
Caleb soldered the wire to another nod on the interior of the device and gave a gentle tug on the wires to make sure they were secure. Of course they were, and he closed the compartment and began to screw it in to secure it. "Finished... Now it's time for the test," he said, taking the gloves off and holding the handle of the device. It looked like a simple hilt to a sword, but sliding the lone button down and with a flick of his wrist a solid but narrow rod extended 36 inches. The rod was collapsible and and thin enough to fit inside the hilt of the device.
"Tally, take a note. Manual mechanism extension is smooth. Test one is a success. Now comes the best part!" Caleb said, a grease stained smile spreading across his face. "Wish me luck," He said. "Always. I'll keep keep a quick link open to the common area in case you need Leslie." Caleb shot a glare to where the voice was coming from and wrinkled his nose. "I won't need 'em," He said, not sounding entirely sure himself. However he pushed the sliding button left locking the rod in place, "Blade ignition is..." He said, and mashed the button down. With an electric whirr and buzz, a white light engulf the entire rod and energy emenated from the now functional laser blade. The light reflected off of Caleb's goggles, and when he pulled them back, his eyes was filled with glee, "A bloody damn good success," he finished.
He waved the blade over an empty space, the whirring and buzzing a continuous thing. As he did, he whipped it around in a serious a quick and rapid movements, creating electric whizzes. He went back to the table, keeping the laser blade out to the side and picked up a thick rod of scrap metal. "Strength test one. Let's see if our project can cut through a rod with an inch diameter." He said, and like planned the blade cut through like butter. "Success. Next test. Disengaging and retraction." He said. He press the button down again and the white energy suddenly died, leaving only the rod. He then shifted the button back over and up, the rod collapsing into the hilt. "Success. Perfect," he said.
Tally finally spoke, "Surprising... I didn't think it'd work," She said with a hint of pride. Even if she did give him a lot of crap, she shared in his successes. "Tally, mark down 'Valkyrie Blade Mk. I' as a total success." Caleb said with a wide smile, turning the hilt over in his hand. Great, now he had some show and tell to do. "I've got to show someone this," He said, leaving the Workshop with the laser blade firmly in hand.
The man lowered the pliers and soldering iron and looked up where the voice came from. "Dammit Tally. I know. Just... Just make sure you get all the details right. If this works, I want to be able to build another quickly," While he was talking, the wires inevitably crossed as they slid down the loosened pliers. A sudden yelp came from the man as volts passed through his hand and through his body. He began to wildly flail his hands around in pain and swore under his breath. From above, Tally laughed at his misfortune. "I told you..." Caleb snapped right back, "It was your fault, you distracted me! You suck as an assistant!" His outburst only made the AI laugh all that hard.
"Fine, fine. I got the details. Do not cross the red and blue wires," She said with obvious humor, "What are you going to do if it doesn't work?" She asked in genuine curiosity. Caleb finished flailing about and finally put on the rough leather gloves he had on the table. Mighty late, but better late than never, right? The mechanic picked up the wires once again with the pliers this time far enough apart in order avoid unnecessary electrocution. "What am I gonna do? Guess... Chuck the crap right out the window." "Of course..." was his response. He ignored it and continued with the work. He pressed down the blue wire on a small silver node and soldered there. Then came the red wire. He wrapped it around the blue wire, letting the insulated plastic protect it from the transfer of electricity. Tally kept quiet during this, as this part was the most danger of the entire project.
Caleb soldered the wire to another nod on the interior of the device and gave a gentle tug on the wires to make sure they were secure. Of course they were, and he closed the compartment and began to screw it in to secure it. "Finished... Now it's time for the test," he said, taking the gloves off and holding the handle of the device. It looked like a simple hilt to a sword, but sliding the lone button down and with a flick of his wrist a solid but narrow rod extended 36 inches. The rod was collapsible and and thin enough to fit inside the hilt of the device.
"Tally, take a note. Manual mechanism extension is smooth. Test one is a success. Now comes the best part!" Caleb said, a grease stained smile spreading across his face. "Wish me luck," He said. "Always. I'll keep keep a quick link open to the common area in case you need Leslie." Caleb shot a glare to where the voice was coming from and wrinkled his nose. "I won't need 'em," He said, not sounding entirely sure himself. However he pushed the sliding button left locking the rod in place, "Blade ignition is..." He said, and mashed the button down. With an electric whirr and buzz, a white light engulf the entire rod and energy emenated from the now functional laser blade. The light reflected off of Caleb's goggles, and when he pulled them back, his eyes was filled with glee, "A bloody damn good success," he finished.
He waved the blade over an empty space, the whirring and buzzing a continuous thing. As he did, he whipped it around in a serious a quick and rapid movements, creating electric whizzes. He went back to the table, keeping the laser blade out to the side and picked up a thick rod of scrap metal. "Strength test one. Let's see if our project can cut through a rod with an inch diameter." He said, and like planned the blade cut through like butter. "Success. Next test. Disengaging and retraction." He said. He press the button down again and the white energy suddenly died, leaving only the rod. He then shifted the button back over and up, the rod collapsing into the hilt. "Success. Perfect," he said.
Tally finally spoke, "Surprising... I didn't think it'd work," She said with a hint of pride. Even if she did give him a lot of crap, she shared in his successes. "Tally, mark down 'Valkyrie Blade Mk. I' as a total success." Caleb said with a wide smile, turning the hilt over in his hand. Great, now he had some show and tell to do. "I've got to show someone this," He said, leaving the Workshop with the laser blade firmly in hand.
OOC Notes
“It has magnetic properties to it.” Hymer said as he was examining a deep blue rock on his work desk situated in the corner of the library. A magnifying glass, which was on moveable arm hovered over his eyes, attached to a leather-covered aluminum headband. Also attached to the headhand was another metal arm with a light at the end; the light aimed at the azure mineral. With gloved hands, he held the mineral to a small but strong magnet and they clearly demonstrated an attraction.
“Perhaps it consists of a nickel salt.” A digital voice responded. An amber marble sat on a flat pad which consisted of a touch screen. On the screen images began flickering and toggling about until about 5 images of different blue rocks appeared. Hymer lifted up the arm with the magnifying glass and peered at the screen. With the tip of his finger he selected the image that most resembled the mineral. With a satisfied “hmm” he confirmed, “It’s retgersite. It’s mostly Nickel Sulfate.”
“Based on the color I presume it’s crystallized as hexahydrate?” The digital voice from the marble asked.
“That’s correct, Iz.”
“That a very rare find, sir.” The portable AI congratulated Hymer, “That will be pleasant report for the committee to hear. I’m documenting this event right now.” A sparkle of pixilated holograms flashed around the marble in an instant.
Hymer shifted his attention to his journal and wrote down his final notes on the sample.
“And what site was this located at, sir?” Iz asked.
Hymer turned to a map wrote a molecular formula on the location. “Site AR102.”
And with that the yellow sphere flickered again. “Just remember that nickel salts are carcinogenic so be sure to wear a mask and cover bard skin when grinding it down, sir.”
“Thanks for the tid bit, Iz.” Hymer said. He placed the mineral in a glass jar and sealed it. He then aligned the jar next to others, each with different mineral samples. With that last mineral successfully confirmed, Hymer completed identifying all the samples collected by the group on the last excavation mission. This calls for a small celebration, Hymer thought to himself, thinking what wine he should bring out for the group later in the day. The only thing he had left to do was replicate his notes and data onto the official documents to send to headquarters. If he had a printer, he could have Iz already have it set up and ready to go, but a printer was one of those small requests that are always seemingly forgotten when compiling the budget. Hymer sighed, knowing the paper work would take another hour. Of course he could always pass it on to-
“Tackstan,” He heard his last name from behind. David.
“Tackstan, where are you? One of the files has been brutally tampered with and I won’t stand for it.”
Hymer shared his quiet time in the library with David. A book shelf was situated between each other’s work space, so when they were quiet enough there were times when they wouldn’t know whether or not they were in the room together. Hymer smirked as he took off his headband, replacing it with his favorite visor. He pushed himself up from off his seat and walked around the book shelf. Looking at an agitated David he leaned on the shelf and crossed his arm. “So which files were taaampered with?”
“Perhaps it consists of a nickel salt.” A digital voice responded. An amber marble sat on a flat pad which consisted of a touch screen. On the screen images began flickering and toggling about until about 5 images of different blue rocks appeared. Hymer lifted up the arm with the magnifying glass and peered at the screen. With the tip of his finger he selected the image that most resembled the mineral. With a satisfied “hmm” he confirmed, “It’s retgersite. It’s mostly Nickel Sulfate.”
“Based on the color I presume it’s crystallized as hexahydrate?” The digital voice from the marble asked.
“That’s correct, Iz.”
“That a very rare find, sir.” The portable AI congratulated Hymer, “That will be pleasant report for the committee to hear. I’m documenting this event right now.” A sparkle of pixilated holograms flashed around the marble in an instant.
Hymer shifted his attention to his journal and wrote down his final notes on the sample.
“And what site was this located at, sir?” Iz asked.
Hymer turned to a map wrote a molecular formula on the location. “Site AR102.”
And with that the yellow sphere flickered again. “Just remember that nickel salts are carcinogenic so be sure to wear a mask and cover bard skin when grinding it down, sir.”
“Thanks for the tid bit, Iz.” Hymer said. He placed the mineral in a glass jar and sealed it. He then aligned the jar next to others, each with different mineral samples. With that last mineral successfully confirmed, Hymer completed identifying all the samples collected by the group on the last excavation mission. This calls for a small celebration, Hymer thought to himself, thinking what wine he should bring out for the group later in the day. The only thing he had left to do was replicate his notes and data onto the official documents to send to headquarters. If he had a printer, he could have Iz already have it set up and ready to go, but a printer was one of those small requests that are always seemingly forgotten when compiling the budget. Hymer sighed, knowing the paper work would take another hour. Of course he could always pass it on to-
“Tackstan,” He heard his last name from behind. David.
“Tackstan, where are you? One of the files has been brutally tampered with and I won’t stand for it.”
Hymer shared his quiet time in the library with David. A book shelf was situated between each other’s work space, so when they were quiet enough there were times when they wouldn’t know whether or not they were in the room together. Hymer smirked as he took off his headband, replacing it with his favorite visor. He pushed himself up from off his seat and walked around the book shelf. Looking at an agitated David he leaned on the shelf and crossed his arm. “So which files were taaampered with?”
OOC Notes
Kiriun faced the panel, leaning back in her high chair comfortably. Her mech, or rather assistant stood at her side processing data and carefully assessing anything she did. If she made a mistake it wouldn't be there by the time Zetame scanned it. She had her legs spread open in a full stretch, arms raised behind her head in a relaxed position. So far, no one had needed a transmission message done to one of the lee-wall towns or to anywhere in the ship. It had been quiet. The last message had been sent prior to the last sunset and that was hours ago. She sighed and reached towards the pocket of her jean shorts. She needed to configure a few things with Zetame and then to give a full scan over the radio communications. Lately they had been slightly glitchy or so she was told. Kiriun frowned and raised the COM device to her ear. "Zetame, can you get going on that full scan of the basic radio while I get ready to do your configuring? I want to check your unit to see if it is interfering with the signals." Zetame nodded and she rolled her chair forward. "Run it on separate data transmissions, please." Zetame grinned and tapped his head. Kiriun rolled her eyes. It was a long-standing joke that Zetame was missing a few screws but no one except her would dare say so. She wouldn't stand for that. But light teasing was easy enough. She pursed her lips in amusement. Zetame was like a girlfriend to her and yet it should have been the other way around. She shrugged and reached forward to begin opening up his compartment. At the moment she couldn't do any serious rearranging but she could give it a look while he did his thing. With basic tools that simply wouldn't do. She would have to return to her room to begin any serious modications. She peered into the wires and data chips. She could spot the tiny electrical shocks that showed his progress through her first request. Kiriun looked up at him. "Hey, can you pause the process currently?" Zetame didn't glance at her but spared a smile. "Yes. I will begin." She returned her gaze to the wires noticing the change, it was darker and it looked quiet. If you knew what to look for it was easy enough to see a difference.
She looked up again. "Stop all processes." Zetame flinched with a frown before nodded slowly. "Yes." She watched it go completely dark, just now noticing the whirring sound deaden to a stop. Her ears rang with the loss and she felt a pang but there was still the faint hum of the ship so all wasn't lost.
Kiriun rolled back over to the panel and tapped a few keys before pulling up a hologram of the statistics. She craned her head to peer over her shoulder. "Start previous processes." Zetame started again and the noise made her heart leap with excitement. Something about machines always made her feel pleased. A sense of pride and ego. I made that machine. Partly. She grinned and turned back to the panel to get another hologram of the current stats. She pulled it up to compare and noticed that it was in fact slightly slower but not a problem that couldn't be fixed. "Zetame continue the previous requested process." Zetame blinked several moments before nodding. "As you wish." She nodded and turned back to the panel to get rid of the holograms and finish up there.
Several minutes later Kiriun hurried out of the Panel Room to get a few of her tools. It would be a quick run and didn't last long. She did pass by the Hold, and noticed Caleb with his AI, Tally. "Hey bro!" She faltered and came to a stop peering at the object in his hand. "Hm. Nice" Her mind wandered away in awe as she stared at the laser blade. All the possibilities that could be had with that sort of thing. She could slice a wire easily, and clean with that type of thing if came in a small enough form. "That's amazing. Oh!" She brightened with a goofy grin. "I gotta go. I have to go get some things so I can clear up the COM System. Trying to fix the glitch. Figure it's 'cause when the signals run through Zetame's unit it just slows down. Anyways, I'm going to get going. And-" She paused trying to think up a good way to say it. "-You should show Leslie that." She huffed leaving off the part about her wanting one for herself for later. She could hound him about it then when she wasn't so busily fixing things. Her favorite hobby. Kiriun waved and went on ahead towards her room.
After retrieving her portable welder, wire cutter, and a few other tools she hurried back to the panel room where she had left Zetame. "I'm back." She headed towards the chair, and plopped herself down in it with snort. "The process?" Zetame brightened happily. "Is done. Anything else I can do for you?" She chuckled and beckoned him forward. "I need to get the glitches out so can you come here? I believe the process is getting slowed by the recent tweaks I made to your system unit. It might need to be rewound and redone." Zetame came forward and stood in front of her enough so that she could get to work. He real was a big machine but not as big as some of the mecha's out there. She scoffed at the idea of an oversized death machine. It was ridiculous. She felt her hands start on opening the unit and working through the wires, careful to to mess with anything that wasn't concerning the original mission. She moved towards the COM chip she had placed near his transmitter chip so that the wires would be intertwining and reacting off each other. It made for a faster experience when using him as the communicator. She pulled the blue cord away from where she had placed the settings for the transmitter and peeled back the blue covering to reveal the wires. "Shut down all processes involving your COM System including the transmitter." Zetame was silent but she noticed the electrical circuits darken. The indication that he had done so. She leaned forward and touched the wires running the tip of her pinky over it. Aha! She smiled as she noticed the slightly burned edges of the circuitry. "Zetame, please eject the requested system number. Number, zero-zero-one-three-two-seven-eighty-five-double six-eight." The entire system including the transmitter and COM unit gave a solid click. Kiriun reached forward and pulled the chips out of their secured hatches. She split the systems and untangled the wires, removing the wires that were frayed and burned. She would have to do a data scan to see why exactly that had happened. She ended up pulling away both the blue and purple cords and replacing them with a safer green and yellow cord. Blue usually was the color she used for running transmissions and it was faster but a green cord could do transmissions along with data analysis but just at a higher energy cost. It would be worth it. As for the purple cord it ran the general overall connection but if she replaced it with a yellow cord she could get a faster connection at the price of having to rewire the wired system. The yellow wire had to connect with a green and black wire to get a full connection. Kiriun rubbed a hand over her face. "Good lord. I hope this works. It better." She mumbled softly as she did the required specifications.
After rearranging all of the wires and placing the system back into the hatch she whirled over to the panel. "Zetame. Start systems and start a test run. Use the interface between your unit and my COM device. Don't include other devices on board The Breaker." Zetame flinched as he start the new process but she heard the general sound of circuits starting and syncing with his other data uniforms. She tapped the panel to bring up a statistics report to watch as the test was running. "Zetame, commence please." She heard the test run message start up on her device and she listened with interest. Her eyes watched the bouncing bar on the report showing that all signals were clear. "Thank you. End message." She tapped on a few more buttons and clicked a switch to start a report to put on her portable panel. She could show this to the others so that they knew the unit was ready to use. Zetame shuffled forward and peered at the report. "All system clear?" The question was tentative. She peered up at him and grinned. "Clear. Does the unit feel good?" Zetame tilted his head, staring into nowhere win particular. "Data processing is clear and all other units are fine but there are anomalies in the battery usage." Kiriun nodded briskly. "Yes, I will start on replacing your battery next time I get to repairs. For now keep up only processes that are needed and stick to the low battery usage plan. However, keep the COM System running for a while longer." Zetame nodded and turned to look at her unit. "It works fine. However, I need you to run a scan on your circuitry. The problem was fraying on the COM wires. Please do so and give me a full report." Zetame smiled. "Yes ma'am." She narrowed her eyes. "Ma'am?" Zetame chuckled. "Sir." She nodded, pleased with that. It was better than that disgusting word. "Shall we relax after we finish this? Maybe on the topside porch or the common area." Zetame nodded as he began her request. Kiriun twirled in her chair for a moment before looking to the door. Life was good. Better than those Lee-Wall places. She hated it there. The constant goodness and fluffy, spoiled way of life. She resisted the urge to spit and leaned back relaxing instead. Stuuupid! Once again she resisted sticking her tongue out at the wall. She really was going to have to stop that. What did the poor wall do anyways?
She looked up again. "Stop all processes." Zetame flinched with a frown before nodded slowly. "Yes." She watched it go completely dark, just now noticing the whirring sound deaden to a stop. Her ears rang with the loss and she felt a pang but there was still the faint hum of the ship so all wasn't lost.
Kiriun rolled back over to the panel and tapped a few keys before pulling up a hologram of the statistics. She craned her head to peer over her shoulder. "Start previous processes." Zetame started again and the noise made her heart leap with excitement. Something about machines always made her feel pleased. A sense of pride and ego. I made that machine. Partly. She grinned and turned back to the panel to get another hologram of the current stats. She pulled it up to compare and noticed that it was in fact slightly slower but not a problem that couldn't be fixed. "Zetame continue the previous requested process." Zetame blinked several moments before nodding. "As you wish." She nodded and turned back to the panel to get rid of the holograms and finish up there.
Several minutes later Kiriun hurried out of the Panel Room to get a few of her tools. It would be a quick run and didn't last long. She did pass by the Hold, and noticed Caleb with his AI, Tally. "Hey bro!" She faltered and came to a stop peering at the object in his hand. "Hm. Nice" Her mind wandered away in awe as she stared at the laser blade. All the possibilities that could be had with that sort of thing. She could slice a wire easily, and clean with that type of thing if came in a small enough form. "That's amazing. Oh!" She brightened with a goofy grin. "I gotta go. I have to go get some things so I can clear up the COM System. Trying to fix the glitch. Figure it's 'cause when the signals run through Zetame's unit it just slows down. Anyways, I'm going to get going. And-" She paused trying to think up a good way to say it. "-You should show Leslie that." She huffed leaving off the part about her wanting one for herself for later. She could hound him about it then when she wasn't so busily fixing things. Her favorite hobby. Kiriun waved and went on ahead towards her room.
After retrieving her portable welder, wire cutter, and a few other tools she hurried back to the panel room where she had left Zetame. "I'm back." She headed towards the chair, and plopped herself down in it with snort. "The process?" Zetame brightened happily. "Is done. Anything else I can do for you?" She chuckled and beckoned him forward. "I need to get the glitches out so can you come here? I believe the process is getting slowed by the recent tweaks I made to your system unit. It might need to be rewound and redone." Zetame came forward and stood in front of her enough so that she could get to work. He real was a big machine but not as big as some of the mecha's out there. She scoffed at the idea of an oversized death machine. It was ridiculous. She felt her hands start on opening the unit and working through the wires, careful to to mess with anything that wasn't concerning the original mission. She moved towards the COM chip she had placed near his transmitter chip so that the wires would be intertwining and reacting off each other. It made for a faster experience when using him as the communicator. She pulled the blue cord away from where she had placed the settings for the transmitter and peeled back the blue covering to reveal the wires. "Shut down all processes involving your COM System including the transmitter." Zetame was silent but she noticed the electrical circuits darken. The indication that he had done so. She leaned forward and touched the wires running the tip of her pinky over it. Aha! She smiled as she noticed the slightly burned edges of the circuitry. "Zetame, please eject the requested system number. Number, zero-zero-one-three-two-seven-eighty-five-double six-eight." The entire system including the transmitter and COM unit gave a solid click. Kiriun reached forward and pulled the chips out of their secured hatches. She split the systems and untangled the wires, removing the wires that were frayed and burned. She would have to do a data scan to see why exactly that had happened. She ended up pulling away both the blue and purple cords and replacing them with a safer green and yellow cord. Blue usually was the color she used for running transmissions and it was faster but a green cord could do transmissions along with data analysis but just at a higher energy cost. It would be worth it. As for the purple cord it ran the general overall connection but if she replaced it with a yellow cord she could get a faster connection at the price of having to rewire the wired system. The yellow wire had to connect with a green and black wire to get a full connection. Kiriun rubbed a hand over her face. "Good lord. I hope this works. It better." She mumbled softly as she did the required specifications.
After rearranging all of the wires and placing the system back into the hatch she whirled over to the panel. "Zetame. Start systems and start a test run. Use the interface between your unit and my COM device. Don't include other devices on board The Breaker." Zetame flinched as he start the new process but she heard the general sound of circuits starting and syncing with his other data uniforms. She tapped the panel to bring up a statistics report to watch as the test was running. "Zetame, commence please." She heard the test run message start up on her device and she listened with interest. Her eyes watched the bouncing bar on the report showing that all signals were clear. "Thank you. End message." She tapped on a few more buttons and clicked a switch to start a report to put on her portable panel. She could show this to the others so that they knew the unit was ready to use. Zetame shuffled forward and peered at the report. "All system clear?" The question was tentative. She peered up at him and grinned. "Clear. Does the unit feel good?" Zetame tilted his head, staring into nowhere win particular. "Data processing is clear and all other units are fine but there are anomalies in the battery usage." Kiriun nodded briskly. "Yes, I will start on replacing your battery next time I get to repairs. For now keep up only processes that are needed and stick to the low battery usage plan. However, keep the COM System running for a while longer." Zetame nodded and turned to look at her unit. "It works fine. However, I need you to run a scan on your circuitry. The problem was fraying on the COM wires. Please do so and give me a full report." Zetame smiled. "Yes ma'am." She narrowed her eyes. "Ma'am?" Zetame chuckled. "Sir." She nodded, pleased with that. It was better than that disgusting word. "Shall we relax after we finish this? Maybe on the topside porch or the common area." Zetame nodded as he began her request. Kiriun twirled in her chair for a moment before looking to the door. Life was good. Better than those Lee-Wall places. She hated it there. The constant goodness and fluffy, spoiled way of life. She resisted the urge to spit and leaned back relaxing instead. Stuuupid! Once again she resisted sticking her tongue out at the wall. She really was going to have to stop that. What did the poor wall do anyways?
OOC Notes
The perpetual scowl of disapproval on David's face harshened somewhat, taking on a hint of indignance as Hymer leaned on the shelf.
"The bookshelves are not your personal armrests, Tackstan. We've been over this COUNTLESS times," he waved a hand to indicate that the other remove his arm from the shelf. Normally he would have crossed his arms at this point to affirm the fact he disapproved very highly about what was going on, but one of his hands was occupied. The poor file had suffered enough at the hands of particularly careless individuals, it didn't need to get all wrinkled too.
Therefore, he simply held it out in an accusatory manner, though not far enough to indicate that Tackstan should get his grubby paws on it. "Look. Look what they've done to a priceless piece of valuable information. They've defaced it."
The indicated document was one of the blueprints for the Breaker. At some point, someone had scrawled on it, adding notes here and there on some adjustments they'd planned to make on the engine.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again; those little grease-monkeys we let frolic freely around the ship, tinkering with every little piece of priceless machinery they can get their hands on are going to get us all blown up one of these days. And think of what a terrible loss that will be, with such beautiful pieces of work like this aboard. You know. Before said grease-monkeys destroyed it."
"The bookshelves are not your personal armrests, Tackstan. We've been over this COUNTLESS times," he waved a hand to indicate that the other remove his arm from the shelf. Normally he would have crossed his arms at this point to affirm the fact he disapproved very highly about what was going on, but one of his hands was occupied. The poor file had suffered enough at the hands of particularly careless individuals, it didn't need to get all wrinkled too.
Therefore, he simply held it out in an accusatory manner, though not far enough to indicate that Tackstan should get his grubby paws on it. "Look. Look what they've done to a priceless piece of valuable information. They've defaced it."
The indicated document was one of the blueprints for the Breaker. At some point, someone had scrawled on it, adding notes here and there on some adjustments they'd planned to make on the engine.
"I've said it before and I'll say it again; those little grease-monkeys we let frolic freely around the ship, tinkering with every little piece of priceless machinery they can get their hands on are going to get us all blown up one of these days. And think of what a terrible loss that will be, with such beautiful pieces of work like this aboard. You know. Before said grease-monkeys destroyed it."
OOC Notes
"That's amazing. Oh!"
"I know right! It's close to the ones I have on Monkey wrench, but you know... Human sized." Caleb said, his ego being stroked by the resident COMs officer. At least, that's what he called her. Caleb knew Kiriun's tendency towards mechanical proficiency like himself, she just chose to apply it towards analysis and communications aboard the Breaker. Heck, if there was an issue on the ship that needed attention, inside or out, she would be the first one to know, and then pass it along to him in order to correct the problem.
"I gotta go. I have to go get some things so I can clear up the COM System. Trying to fix the glitch. Figure it's 'cause when the signals run through Zetame's unit it just slows down. Anyways, I'm going to get going. And-- You should show Leslie that."
"I'm showing somebody. It's the first time it actually worked without shocking me," he said with a smile. "Pity," a voice came from his wrist. A portable wrist mounted platform that carried Tally's AI around with him. It was wide enough to allow for quick assess to notes and plans. Caleb had a tendency to get slapped with inspiration at sudden times, and when it did, he always wanted to put it down somewhere. Tally was that somewhere. Telekinitic Assisstance & Library, he thought her name meant. T.A.L. Or Tally. Eh. "I thought those times when you flailed around in pain were quite humorous... Suppose I'll just have to wait 'til the next insane project," The feminine voice. Caleb snorted in irritation, but for the most part ignored her.
"Good luck with the glitch. I have been experiencing some lag with Tally's library system as well," He said, nodding as she walked off. As he watched her, he began to make his way to the library. He knew someone was in the library. Someone always was. Besides, Leslie was resting. As he walked through the hold and into the hold filled to the brim with papers and book, Caleb beamed. In better light, he was covered in grease, splotches darkened his blonde hair, leaving only two clean circles around his eyes where he had worn his goggles. His hands and arms were blackened and completely dirty. Inside the library he saw two of his crew mates, David and Hymer. Without waiting to be noticed he held out the hand not carrying the handle and waved. Once or twice, he managed to get the blade dangerously close to the books and papers.
"Fellas, You've got to see what I've finished. Just... Just watch," He said, working the button and flicking his wrist to extend the rod. Then quickly locking it in and pressing button igniting the blade in white energy. He slowly waved it back and forth, eyes gleaming with pride, "I call it the Valkyrie Blade. The hilt holds all the mechanisms to make it work. The rod is lightweight titanium alloy with an inner sheath of copper. It's hollow to collapse in on itself for portability. In inner workings are-" He was interupted by Tally, "Nobody but us and Kiriun cares about that babble Caleb," She said in a condescending tone. He paused in frustration and shook his head. She was right probably. "Fine. Fine! It's a laser blade. The power comes from an Ion battery in the hilt and focused through a gem. In this case quartz." He said simply, killing the blade.
He looked over to Hymer's study and the various bottles of rock samples. This gave him and idea, "Tally, take a note. Test different types of gems and effects thereof on the blade." "Noted. Expecting to change the color of the blade Caleb?" She asked. "Something like that," He answered.
"So guys, what do you-" He stopped himself upon seeing what David had. Blueprints to the Breaker. Caleb allowed a wide smile to form on his lips, "I see you found the blueprints, mister Navigator. See, with those tweaks to the engine, I can increase the efficiency by 3 percent and increase the pull of the treads by 5 percent. If you-"
"Caleb..." Tally interrupted before he was too far gone.
"I know right! It's close to the ones I have on Monkey wrench, but you know... Human sized." Caleb said, his ego being stroked by the resident COMs officer. At least, that's what he called her. Caleb knew Kiriun's tendency towards mechanical proficiency like himself, she just chose to apply it towards analysis and communications aboard the Breaker. Heck, if there was an issue on the ship that needed attention, inside or out, she would be the first one to know, and then pass it along to him in order to correct the problem.
"I gotta go. I have to go get some things so I can clear up the COM System. Trying to fix the glitch. Figure it's 'cause when the signals run through Zetame's unit it just slows down. Anyways, I'm going to get going. And-- You should show Leslie that."
"I'm showing somebody. It's the first time it actually worked without shocking me," he said with a smile. "Pity," a voice came from his wrist. A portable wrist mounted platform that carried Tally's AI around with him. It was wide enough to allow for quick assess to notes and plans. Caleb had a tendency to get slapped with inspiration at sudden times, and when it did, he always wanted to put it down somewhere. Tally was that somewhere. Telekinitic Assisstance & Library, he thought her name meant. T.A.L. Or Tally. Eh. "I thought those times when you flailed around in pain were quite humorous... Suppose I'll just have to wait 'til the next insane project," The feminine voice. Caleb snorted in irritation, but for the most part ignored her.
"Good luck with the glitch. I have been experiencing some lag with Tally's library system as well," He said, nodding as she walked off. As he watched her, he began to make his way to the library. He knew someone was in the library. Someone always was. Besides, Leslie was resting. As he walked through the hold and into the hold filled to the brim with papers and book, Caleb beamed. In better light, he was covered in grease, splotches darkened his blonde hair, leaving only two clean circles around his eyes where he had worn his goggles. His hands and arms were blackened and completely dirty. Inside the library he saw two of his crew mates, David and Hymer. Without waiting to be noticed he held out the hand not carrying the handle and waved. Once or twice, he managed to get the blade dangerously close to the books and papers.
"Fellas, You've got to see what I've finished. Just... Just watch," He said, working the button and flicking his wrist to extend the rod. Then quickly locking it in and pressing button igniting the blade in white energy. He slowly waved it back and forth, eyes gleaming with pride, "I call it the Valkyrie Blade. The hilt holds all the mechanisms to make it work. The rod is lightweight titanium alloy with an inner sheath of copper. It's hollow to collapse in on itself for portability. In inner workings are-" He was interupted by Tally, "Nobody but us and Kiriun cares about that babble Caleb," She said in a condescending tone. He paused in frustration and shook his head. She was right probably. "Fine. Fine! It's a laser blade. The power comes from an Ion battery in the hilt and focused through a gem. In this case quartz." He said simply, killing the blade.
He looked over to Hymer's study and the various bottles of rock samples. This gave him and idea, "Tally, take a note. Test different types of gems and effects thereof on the blade." "Noted. Expecting to change the color of the blade Caleb?" She asked. "Something like that," He answered.
"So guys, what do you-" He stopped himself upon seeing what David had. Blueprints to the Breaker. Caleb allowed a wide smile to form on his lips, "I see you found the blueprints, mister Navigator. See, with those tweaks to the engine, I can increase the efficiency by 3 percent and increase the pull of the treads by 5 percent. If you-"
"Caleb..." Tally interrupted before he was too far gone.
OOC Notes
Mayh Strongarm sat at her workbench, repairing her namesake feature. She'd clubbed the wrong beastie with it and damaged the servos for the ring and little fingers, as well as the wrist hydraulics. She'd been glued to that arm for the past four hours, using an arc welder and various scrap metal pieces she'd had lying around to patch up the limb. Her left arm, or rather nub, hung limply at her side. The arm terminated mid bicep in a universal connector hub, allowing her to interface with pretty much whatever machinery she wanted.
Finally, after many hours of toil, Mayh fastened the hubs together and snapped the lock into place, smiling contently as the hiss of hydraulics and the whine of servos assailed her ears. Taking a step back from her workstation, she raised her left arm and touched the fifteen foot roof with a fingertip. The arm itself, excluding the hand was six feet long. Including the hand, it totaled seven and a quarter feet. She'd constructed it using the lightest, but strongest alloys and installed counter weights, so it only weighed about ten pounds. Not bad for a square foot palm surface area and five inch diameter fore-arm.
Nodding to herself, she collapsed the arm onto her back and grabbed her body, turning it into a backpack. Mayh stretched and yawned, popping her back and looking for her shirt. The cyborg girl grabbed her tank top and disengaged her arm to put it on, buttoning up the left side and re-folding the limb. She wandered out of the hold and into the library, one of her least favorite places on the Breaker. The only reason she went there was to see what all the "commotion" was. Putting on an annoyed face, she vented some steam out of her horn, making an old-timey train whistle noise.
"Fer yer info, Dave...I been scribblin on those blurprints wiv' Caleb. Th' Breaker be needin' a bit o' love, an' I didn' have a digicopy ta refrence. We'll fix 'em up nice, don' worry yerself, none." She reached out for the documents, but the man backed away from her oil covered hand in what she took to be fear. Sighing heavily, Mayh wiped her face in frustration, leaving two long streaks of oil under her eyes.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I won' be touchin' nuthin ov yer stuff again. Jus' a simple 'little grease-monkey', I didn' know any better," muttered the woman angrily. Her arm dropped from her back with a heavy clang, unfolding and propping itself up for her to sit on like a stool. She hopped onto the makeshift seat and scratched the bottom of her left foot, which was bare. She hardly ever wore shoes.
Finally, after many hours of toil, Mayh fastened the hubs together and snapped the lock into place, smiling contently as the hiss of hydraulics and the whine of servos assailed her ears. Taking a step back from her workstation, she raised her left arm and touched the fifteen foot roof with a fingertip. The arm itself, excluding the hand was six feet long. Including the hand, it totaled seven and a quarter feet. She'd constructed it using the lightest, but strongest alloys and installed counter weights, so it only weighed about ten pounds. Not bad for a square foot palm surface area and five inch diameter fore-arm.
Nodding to herself, she collapsed the arm onto her back and grabbed her body, turning it into a backpack. Mayh stretched and yawned, popping her back and looking for her shirt. The cyborg girl grabbed her tank top and disengaged her arm to put it on, buttoning up the left side and re-folding the limb. She wandered out of the hold and into the library, one of her least favorite places on the Breaker. The only reason she went there was to see what all the "commotion" was. Putting on an annoyed face, she vented some steam out of her horn, making an old-timey train whistle noise.
"Fer yer info, Dave...I been scribblin on those blurprints wiv' Caleb. Th' Breaker be needin' a bit o' love, an' I didn' have a digicopy ta refrence. We'll fix 'em up nice, don' worry yerself, none." She reached out for the documents, but the man backed away from her oil covered hand in what she took to be fear. Sighing heavily, Mayh wiped her face in frustration, leaving two long streaks of oil under her eyes.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I won' be touchin' nuthin ov yer stuff again. Jus' a simple 'little grease-monkey', I didn' know any better," muttered the woman angrily. Her arm dropped from her back with a heavy clang, unfolding and propping itself up for her to sit on like a stool. She hopped onto the makeshift seat and scratched the bottom of her left foot, which was bare. She hardly ever wore shoes.
OOC Notes
*Right before Caleb and Mayh walk in the library*
Hymer gave a casual “oops” expression as he shifted himself off the bookshelf and listened to Dave’s complaint. He walked over to him and looked over at the blueprints curiously. There were indeed barely legible notes scribbled about on the blueprints. If one was already familiar with the schematics of the Breaker and tried hard enough to see through the notes it waaaasss still possible to read the blueprints, but any authenticity of the blueprints’ presentation was certainly thrown out the window.
Hymer gave a friendly smile to try to ease away Dave’s tension, “No worries, I’m sure we can get hold of another copy of the blueprints. Why I think I may actually have the blueprints stored electronically within Iz over here.” Hymer pointed toward the sparking marble that was on his desk.
“On the contrary, sir,” Iz responded, “You’ve yet to scan and download the blueprints due to your lack of interest to…”
“Ah! That’s right!” Hymer cut off Iz with an exaggerated laugh. “Haven’t yet got to that.” Hymer had always told Dave that he would get the chance to scan all the information in the library in case anything would happen, but any subject that is not relevant to natural sciences had yet to be touched by Hymer. Personally the last thing he wants to waste his time is sitting around scanning papers that didn’t necessarily tickle his fancy, but when most of the crew didn’t really care or worry of having electronic copies of their documents, Hymer always managed to get himself occupied with other things…
“Say you know what, I’m sure we can nab another copy whenever we arrive back at headquarters, they have all the designs of every vehicle registered under NOMAD. No worries. Plus I’m sure Mayn or Claeb or whoever wrote these notes down was probably using them to keep track of any repairs or upgrades on the Breaker.” Hymer said in a side attempt to defend whoever made the scribbles.
*cue Caleb’s entrance* "Fellas, You've got to see what I've finished. Just... Just watch," David immediately turned to Caleb, who clearly must’ve stepped right out of his workshop by the look of the coat of dirt and grease on him.
When Caleb exposed the glowing the blade and explained the mechanism Hymer’s eyes lit up. Hymer then held his chin and daydreamed that instant, picturing the inside anatomy of the blade and how it interacted with the metal and quartz.
After Caleb’s AI, Tally, interrupted Caleb into giving David and ear full of the details on the Breaker upgrades, Hymer said, “Caleb, that blade is incredible. You’ll have to show me how you wired up the quartz.
A short train whistle than screeched through their conversation. *Cue Mayh’s entrance*
"Fer yer info, Dave...I been scribblin on those blueprints wiv' Caleb. Th' Breaker be needin' a bit o' love, an' I didn' have a digicopy ta refrence. We'll fix 'em up nice, don' worry yerself, none." Mayh went to reach for the papers from Dave, but he wasn’t having it.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I won' be touchin' nuthin ov yer stuff again. Jus' a simple 'little grease-monkey', I didn' know any better," Mayh said in frustration.
Hymer raised his voice, “Alright everybody, no need to get upset over this. As I was mentioning to Dave just now, we can get another copy next time we arrive to HQ.”
“I’m going to head to the panel room to see what our status is on our location.” Hymer kept his volume up, “Who wants to come with?” He was hoping someone would come along just for the sake of breaking up the quarrel.
Hymer gave a casual “oops” expression as he shifted himself off the bookshelf and listened to Dave’s complaint. He walked over to him and looked over at the blueprints curiously. There were indeed barely legible notes scribbled about on the blueprints. If one was already familiar with the schematics of the Breaker and tried hard enough to see through the notes it waaaasss still possible to read the blueprints, but any authenticity of the blueprints’ presentation was certainly thrown out the window.
Hymer gave a friendly smile to try to ease away Dave’s tension, “No worries, I’m sure we can get hold of another copy of the blueprints. Why I think I may actually have the blueprints stored electronically within Iz over here.” Hymer pointed toward the sparking marble that was on his desk.
“On the contrary, sir,” Iz responded, “You’ve yet to scan and download the blueprints due to your lack of interest to…”
“Ah! That’s right!” Hymer cut off Iz with an exaggerated laugh. “Haven’t yet got to that.” Hymer had always told Dave that he would get the chance to scan all the information in the library in case anything would happen, but any subject that is not relevant to natural sciences had yet to be touched by Hymer. Personally the last thing he wants to waste his time is sitting around scanning papers that didn’t necessarily tickle his fancy, but when most of the crew didn’t really care or worry of having electronic copies of their documents, Hymer always managed to get himself occupied with other things…
“Say you know what, I’m sure we can nab another copy whenever we arrive back at headquarters, they have all the designs of every vehicle registered under NOMAD. No worries. Plus I’m sure Mayn or Claeb or whoever wrote these notes down was probably using them to keep track of any repairs or upgrades on the Breaker.” Hymer said in a side attempt to defend whoever made the scribbles.
*cue Caleb’s entrance* "Fellas, You've got to see what I've finished. Just... Just watch," David immediately turned to Caleb, who clearly must’ve stepped right out of his workshop by the look of the coat of dirt and grease on him.
When Caleb exposed the glowing the blade and explained the mechanism Hymer’s eyes lit up. Hymer then held his chin and daydreamed that instant, picturing the inside anatomy of the blade and how it interacted with the metal and quartz.
After Caleb’s AI, Tally, interrupted Caleb into giving David and ear full of the details on the Breaker upgrades, Hymer said, “Caleb, that blade is incredible. You’ll have to show me how you wired up the quartz.
A short train whistle than screeched through their conversation. *Cue Mayh’s entrance*
"Fer yer info, Dave...I been scribblin on those blueprints wiv' Caleb. Th' Breaker be needin' a bit o' love, an' I didn' have a digicopy ta refrence. We'll fix 'em up nice, don' worry yerself, none." Mayh went to reach for the papers from Dave, but he wasn’t having it.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I won' be touchin' nuthin ov yer stuff again. Jus' a simple 'little grease-monkey', I didn' know any better," Mayh said in frustration.
Hymer raised his voice, “Alright everybody, no need to get upset over this. As I was mentioning to Dave just now, we can get another copy next time we arrive to HQ.”
“I’m going to head to the panel room to see what our status is on our location.” Hymer kept his volume up, “Who wants to come with?” He was hoping someone would come along just for the sake of breaking up the quarrel.
OOC Notes
“Say you know what, I’m sure we can nab another copy whenever we arrive back at headquarters, they have all the designs of every vehicle registered under NOMAD. No worries. Plus I’m sure Mayn or Claeb or whoever wrote these notes down was probably using them to keep track of any repairs or upgrades on the Breaker.”
No worries. If there was any colloquialism that David detested most. That one probably wasn't it because his crew mates always found new inane phrases to spout at him given time, but it was close to the top. There was always something to worry about, be it the meticulous balance of the engine being at the mercy of the many strange technicians and engineers that made up their crew, or the severe sandstorms that kicked up and threatened at all times to knock out their systems, leaving them blind and mute to the world outside. It was always on his mind, and it was always VERY worrying.
David made to give an answer, but the sound of Caleb's voice cut him short. Oh goody. Seemed the dim hope of returning to peace and quiet was absolutely done for. The masses were beginning to gravitate towards his position, as they always did when he least wanted them to. Then the fool started waving some light-up sword around and David damn near lost it with his nerves. It wavered dangerously close to destroying some more precious pieces of information and it took a great deal of willpower not to make a valiant effort to save the poor things.
Somehow, as he always did, David found the grace to keep himself composed.
"This is a library, not a training facility. Put that thing away," he snapped indignantly, clutching the papers against his chest and withdrawing a bit. A critical frown came over his expression as the traitor fessed up to his crime, defacing ship property, but somehow as if by some terrible fate David's poor fortune turned once more and another one of them made their arrival. They were both filthy, what could have possibly possessed them to set foot in a room filled with books that could so easily be soiled by their touch?
Obviously as both lacked any sort of caring for precious resources, David shouldn't waste time pondering that for too long.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I won' be touchin' nuthin ov yer stuff again. Jus' a simple 'little grease-monkey', I didn' know any better."
"If I can make one positive remark on the situation, it's that you saved me the time of pointing out BOTH faults in your character, he grumbled, taking a peek at his watch. He was already getting off-schedule. Today was just a mess. "Didn't know any better, indeed. That's the problem aboard this ship, nobody really knows any better. Makes for a very chaotic standard of living."
“I’m going to head to the panel room to see what our status is on our location. Who wants to come with?”
"Tempting, but I have to pass for now. I still have some files to put away, in spite of this most unfortunate mishap. Perhaps...in twenty minutes or so, I can manage it."
No worries. If there was any colloquialism that David detested most. That one probably wasn't it because his crew mates always found new inane phrases to spout at him given time, but it was close to the top. There was always something to worry about, be it the meticulous balance of the engine being at the mercy of the many strange technicians and engineers that made up their crew, or the severe sandstorms that kicked up and threatened at all times to knock out their systems, leaving them blind and mute to the world outside. It was always on his mind, and it was always VERY worrying.
David made to give an answer, but the sound of Caleb's voice cut him short. Oh goody. Seemed the dim hope of returning to peace and quiet was absolutely done for. The masses were beginning to gravitate towards his position, as they always did when he least wanted them to. Then the fool started waving some light-up sword around and David damn near lost it with his nerves. It wavered dangerously close to destroying some more precious pieces of information and it took a great deal of willpower not to make a valiant effort to save the poor things.
Somehow, as he always did, David found the grace to keep himself composed.
"This is a library, not a training facility. Put that thing away," he snapped indignantly, clutching the papers against his chest and withdrawing a bit. A critical frown came over his expression as the traitor fessed up to his crime, defacing ship property, but somehow as if by some terrible fate David's poor fortune turned once more and another one of them made their arrival. They were both filthy, what could have possibly possessed them to set foot in a room filled with books that could so easily be soiled by their touch?
Obviously as both lacked any sort of caring for precious resources, David shouldn't waste time pondering that for too long.
"Alright, I'm sorry. I won' be touchin' nuthin ov yer stuff again. Jus' a simple 'little grease-monkey', I didn' know any better."
"If I can make one positive remark on the situation, it's that you saved me the time of pointing out BOTH faults in your character, he grumbled, taking a peek at his watch. He was already getting off-schedule. Today was just a mess. "Didn't know any better, indeed. That's the problem aboard this ship, nobody really knows any better. Makes for a very chaotic standard of living."
“I’m going to head to the panel room to see what our status is on our location. Who wants to come with?”
"Tempting, but I have to pass for now. I still have some files to put away, in spite of this most unfortunate mishap. Perhaps...in twenty minutes or so, I can manage it."
OOC Notes
"I'd love to join you, greasemonkey." Sluuuuuuurrrrp. Leslie took a long, fruity drag from the re-hydrated punch cupped in his hands. It looked like he had missed quite the event in the Library just now, but his belly's demand for artificial strawberry nectar had delayed his timely arrival. Too bad. Glancing in, he noticed David in another one of his iconic fumes. He would offer the peeved fellow some juice, but had on separate occasions received lectures about germs, excessively cold ice, high blood sugar, and glass' high fingerprint yield. Message received: David hates juice. Leslie pondered over whether or not this meant that he held equal disdain for slushies and smoothies as well... and if chocolate milk counted as juice. Such perplexing conundrums whose mysterious solutions eluded Leslie's juice-placated mind. Another sluuuuuuuuurrrrp, announcing that the cup was empty, brought him back to the present.
"Bye, David! Remember to take your blood-pressure pills today!" An open palm danced in the doorway where the body and arm had already proceeded down the hall without it. Leslie's fixation remained on the place where the straw was now creating a froth from the film of juice sliding around the bottom, though his eyes darted curiously at the man who smelled of smoldering hair. His wrist in particular. Or rather, the device on his wrist. Or rather rather, the AI that was watching from the device on the man's wrist. Data trees really weren't Leslie's strong point.
"Hey, Tally. What are you and Caleb up to today?" The words passed through the air without a sound from the pale man; pronounced on electrostatic lips that projected from the computing core within Leslie's body. Only Tally would be able to 'hear' him, and if she responded in the same channel then only Leslie would hear through his electronic ears. He'd always been fond of 'talking' with machines, but the word had only taken on its obscurely-parenthesized interpretation after his cybernetics had been given to him. Of course, they had never been meant for this purpose (routing his thoughts through his computer and to the machine and back again to route to his artificial ears) but most of the technology that touched Leslie should never do what it ultimately does anyway. The crew could thank him both for the invention of the blender vacuum chamber as well as the subsequent smoothie dry spell.
His silvery-hazel eyes whirred back into focusing on the real world for a moment, certainly not wanting to alienate Caleb altogether. He would have happily included the mechanic in his conversations with the ships various electronic minds. In fact, Caleb would probably get the machines pretty easily. He listened to the ship, even when he probably didn't know that it was talking. It was just easier for machines to talk back and forth than to go through all the trouble of rendering their synthesized voice and breaking incoming sound waves into code. "Was David getting mad about the electrical spikes coming from your work station again?"
"Bye, David! Remember to take your blood-pressure pills today!" An open palm danced in the doorway where the body and arm had already proceeded down the hall without it. Leslie's fixation remained on the place where the straw was now creating a froth from the film of juice sliding around the bottom, though his eyes darted curiously at the man who smelled of smoldering hair. His wrist in particular. Or rather, the device on his wrist. Or rather rather, the AI that was watching from the device on the man's wrist. Data trees really weren't Leslie's strong point.
"Hey, Tally. What are you and Caleb up to today?" The words passed through the air without a sound from the pale man; pronounced on electrostatic lips that projected from the computing core within Leslie's body. Only Tally would be able to 'hear' him, and if she responded in the same channel then only Leslie would hear through his electronic ears. He'd always been fond of 'talking' with machines, but the word had only taken on its obscurely-parenthesized interpretation after his cybernetics had been given to him. Of course, they had never been meant for this purpose (routing his thoughts through his computer and to the machine and back again to route to his artificial ears) but most of the technology that touched Leslie should never do what it ultimately does anyway. The crew could thank him both for the invention of the blender vacuum chamber as well as the subsequent smoothie dry spell.
His silvery-hazel eyes whirred back into focusing on the real world for a moment, certainly not wanting to alienate Caleb altogether. He would have happily included the mechanic in his conversations with the ships various electronic minds. In fact, Caleb would probably get the machines pretty easily. He listened to the ship, even when he probably didn't know that it was talking. It was just easier for machines to talk back and forth than to go through all the trouble of rendering their synthesized voice and breaking incoming sound waves into code. "Was David getting mad about the electrical spikes coming from your work station again?"
OOC Notes
It was a rare moment indeed, the only sound that Giles heard nearby was the quiet churning of machinery, the overtones of electrical whirring and an occasional creak of the gears settling into place after a shift. In other words, silence. Or as close to silence as one got on this ship. Giles actually took a moment to rub his ear with a gloved thumb, now becoming concerned that the past three years of working with guns and explosions without proper hearing protection had finally gotten to him, but soon realized he was just worrying too much. Smiling to himself, Giles continued work on his current repair; cleaning and checking his own rifle. He was rather old fashioned by today's standards when it came to weaponry, considering how advanced and complicated things had become.
Although Giles could appreciate attempts in the right direction, he also believed firmly in the adage, "Most complex systems that fail evolve from much simpler systems that worked just fine." That was the problem with the lee-walls, sure they had evolved, but outside of the quiet life, the entire system sustaining the villages was so complicated it was eventually doomed to fail. Albeit, in a storm swept world, mankind didn't have much of a choice in order to preserve themselves, but now it was NOMAD's job to find a better place, an area that mankind could call home without fretting over system failure and eventual collapse.
But enough philosophy for the moment. The point was Giles was a man that liked to work smarter, not harder. And although there were laser guns and electrified whips, the fail rate on them was so high and the maintenance on them was utterly deplorable. Besides, shooting a beam of light cauterized wound and hardly penetrates further than a few inches. A .22 rifle however was strong enough to usually break through most of the body's tissues upon entry, depending on the range, but not have enough force to exit, usually causing an internal ricochet that did so much more damage than a damned laser.
It was a nice rifle, he had to admit. Won it at a blackjack game in the first lee-wall his former ship had docked at, though it was in pretty bad disrepair. He had read and studied about guns, but really had never shot or practiced with one until that day. From there, the former ship's gunsmith, Yousef, taught Giles how to shoot, how to repair, how to maintain and the young man lapped it right up. Travis chuckled a bit as he finished putting the firearm together, trying to imagine Yousef's reaction if Travis ever got a chance to tell him what his current job was aboard the Breaker. Pride? Maybe. A lot of heckling? Yeah, definitely.
But that was all in the past. The now? Well, he found himself rather bored a lot of times, seeing as weapons weren't used too much on the ship at the moment. He helped a lot with cleaning and other projects, offering a hand to the other mechanics whenever he could. And the fact he didn't sleep just afforded more free-time to the over-active man. But Giles knew that would change once they went exploring outside of the ship. Considering the plethora of nasty creatures, he'd have to be able to provide quick acting explosives that could burn hot enough to withstand the rain and the wind. As Giles polished his gun clean, he slipped his wrench into his pocket, took off his gloves and left the holding area he had turned into a workshop, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He made a mental note to do some target practice later and ensure that everything was lined up the way he liked it, entering his room and hooking the strap of his gun over a peg on the wall. But for now, Giles was beginning to feel sleep gnaw on the edge of his thoughts and decided to take one of the three caffeine pills he had left. Coffee wasn't working and cigarettes only provided a temporary boost after six days without sleep; Giles just hoped they would be docking soon to afford him some way to get his hands on some more.
Giles popped the pill and went to the bathroom, cupping his hands together and swallowing a mouthful of water. Taking the opportunity to clean up, he washed his face and his hands, cleaning his glasses and checking himself over in the mirror. Ah, a couple grease spots on his shirt, but all in all he was clean enough to not messy their library. He checked his watch and frowned, not realizing how long he had been sitting in his workshop. Although he wasn't anal about following the schedule that David made, Giles seemed to put some effort into making sure his assigned chores got done. After all, Giles could always use the time allotted for sleep for his own personal projects. He had already cleaned the floors in the dining area last night, which is the task he was supposed to be working on now if he remembered correctly. So long as it was done, the navigator wouldn't have anything to complain about, right?
Giles knew very well that statement was false, David always seeming to find something to complain about. If he could just get to the library without bumping into the Navigator, he'd be safe. As Giles began walking down the hallway, he assured himself it was a big ship and the chances of running into David were...significantly higher when you began assuring yourself with statistics. David just so happened to be leaving the library as Giles was walking up, the gunsmith managing a small wave and a greeting, "Hey there. N-nice to see y-you out and about!"
Great, he was stuttering. That last caffeine pill must have had more kick to it than he anticipated. He realized his hand was shaking as he held it aloft in the air, the gunsmith quickly shoving his hands into his pockets as he began to attempt to shuffle past David before he gave a lecture about the floors. "Well, g-good seeing you." God, Giles really hated when he got the shakes like this, but should have known better than to go from mild things like coffee and cigarettes to a concentrated caffeine pill. On the bright side, he was certainly alert now.
Although Giles could appreciate attempts in the right direction, he also believed firmly in the adage, "Most complex systems that fail evolve from much simpler systems that worked just fine." That was the problem with the lee-walls, sure they had evolved, but outside of the quiet life, the entire system sustaining the villages was so complicated it was eventually doomed to fail. Albeit, in a storm swept world, mankind didn't have much of a choice in order to preserve themselves, but now it was NOMAD's job to find a better place, an area that mankind could call home without fretting over system failure and eventual collapse.
But enough philosophy for the moment. The point was Giles was a man that liked to work smarter, not harder. And although there were laser guns and electrified whips, the fail rate on them was so high and the maintenance on them was utterly deplorable. Besides, shooting a beam of light cauterized wound and hardly penetrates further than a few inches. A .22 rifle however was strong enough to usually break through most of the body's tissues upon entry, depending on the range, but not have enough force to exit, usually causing an internal ricochet that did so much more damage than a damned laser.
It was a nice rifle, he had to admit. Won it at a blackjack game in the first lee-wall his former ship had docked at, though it was in pretty bad disrepair. He had read and studied about guns, but really had never shot or practiced with one until that day. From there, the former ship's gunsmith, Yousef, taught Giles how to shoot, how to repair, how to maintain and the young man lapped it right up. Travis chuckled a bit as he finished putting the firearm together, trying to imagine Yousef's reaction if Travis ever got a chance to tell him what his current job was aboard the Breaker. Pride? Maybe. A lot of heckling? Yeah, definitely.
But that was all in the past. The now? Well, he found himself rather bored a lot of times, seeing as weapons weren't used too much on the ship at the moment. He helped a lot with cleaning and other projects, offering a hand to the other mechanics whenever he could. And the fact he didn't sleep just afforded more free-time to the over-active man. But Giles knew that would change once they went exploring outside of the ship. Considering the plethora of nasty creatures, he'd have to be able to provide quick acting explosives that could burn hot enough to withstand the rain and the wind. As Giles polished his gun clean, he slipped his wrench into his pocket, took off his gloves and left the holding area he had turned into a workshop, his rifle slung over his shoulder. He made a mental note to do some target practice later and ensure that everything was lined up the way he liked it, entering his room and hooking the strap of his gun over a peg on the wall. But for now, Giles was beginning to feel sleep gnaw on the edge of his thoughts and decided to take one of the three caffeine pills he had left. Coffee wasn't working and cigarettes only provided a temporary boost after six days without sleep; Giles just hoped they would be docking soon to afford him some way to get his hands on some more.
Giles popped the pill and went to the bathroom, cupping his hands together and swallowing a mouthful of water. Taking the opportunity to clean up, he washed his face and his hands, cleaning his glasses and checking himself over in the mirror. Ah, a couple grease spots on his shirt, but all in all he was clean enough to not messy their library. He checked his watch and frowned, not realizing how long he had been sitting in his workshop. Although he wasn't anal about following the schedule that David made, Giles seemed to put some effort into making sure his assigned chores got done. After all, Giles could always use the time allotted for sleep for his own personal projects. He had already cleaned the floors in the dining area last night, which is the task he was supposed to be working on now if he remembered correctly. So long as it was done, the navigator wouldn't have anything to complain about, right?
Giles knew very well that statement was false, David always seeming to find something to complain about. If he could just get to the library without bumping into the Navigator, he'd be safe. As Giles began walking down the hallway, he assured himself it was a big ship and the chances of running into David were...significantly higher when you began assuring yourself with statistics. David just so happened to be leaving the library as Giles was walking up, the gunsmith managing a small wave and a greeting, "Hey there. N-nice to see y-you out and about!"
Great, he was stuttering. That last caffeine pill must have had more kick to it than he anticipated. He realized his hand was shaking as he held it aloft in the air, the gunsmith quickly shoving his hands into his pockets as he began to attempt to shuffle past David before he gave a lecture about the floors. "Well, g-good seeing you." God, Giles really hated when he got the shakes like this, but should have known better than to go from mild things like coffee and cigarettes to a concentrated caffeine pill. On the bright side, he was certainly alert now.
OOC Notes
Kiriun paused and tapped her AI bracelet once. "All requests successfully finished." Kiriun didn't bother to glance up and nodded. "Yeah. Thanks." She rolled towards Zetame with ease. "You all good here?" She tapped the spot where his core would be safely stored away. "Yes sir." She nodded and raised a hand to tap a staccato rhythm on her cheek. She could just stay in the panel room and take a nap but with all the hustle and bustle around she kind of wanted to get out and about. She shook her head. Technically she was still on hours and she didn't wanna bail now. She raised a hand to touch her communicator. "Zetame connect me with all personal COM units." Zetame nodded and his eyes focused far away as if searching for something that wasn't in front of him. A slow smile crept up his face making her chuckle slightly. "Connected." She nodded a pressed the 'engage' button to speak to all personnel who had bothered to carry their units around.
"Hello, all of you who might still be dilly dallying around. Geez, get a pep in your step because guess what? The main communicator system is glitch-free and as fast as you talk now. If you experience any problems please feel free to get your lazy butts down to the Communications Panel Room." She cut the connection with another click of engage and swiveled in her chair to look at the large screen that was showing many statistics. She remembered when she first had began this job. More than a hassle learning all those symbols and meanings.
"Zetame. We may have visitors, if so please help them. I'll step in if it's something you can't help with." Zetame nodded and turned towards the door waiting with that completely cute smile. At least she thought it was rather cute.
Kiriun reached for the candy in her pocket and raised it to her mouth with a sigh. She could already tell it was going to long day. She glanced to Zetame who looked over his shoulder noticing her attention. "Yes?" She waved a hand lazily. "Can you play music or something? Or do a little dance?" Zetame tilted his head. "I don't play music but I can dance if it pleases you." She pursed her lips and scowled. "No, no. I'm just bored. I can't being in one area for so long but this is my job and I rather like it, ne?" He smiled and nodded returning to his previous command.
Kiriun shook her head. The machine has no feelings, it feels no fear and no hope, it operates according to the pure logic of probability. For this reason I assert that the robot perceives more accurately than man. However, we are not the only avatars of humanity. Once our computing machines achieved self-consciousness, they became part of this design. She bit down on her tongue. Poetry was always at her fingertips but who had time for poetry when you could be sliming muddies. She laughed and tilted her head back to relax and stop worrying.
"Hello, all of you who might still be dilly dallying around. Geez, get a pep in your step because guess what? The main communicator system is glitch-free and as fast as you talk now. If you experience any problems please feel free to get your lazy butts down to the Communications Panel Room." She cut the connection with another click of engage and swiveled in her chair to look at the large screen that was showing many statistics. She remembered when she first had began this job. More than a hassle learning all those symbols and meanings.
"Zetame. We may have visitors, if so please help them. I'll step in if it's something you can't help with." Zetame nodded and turned towards the door waiting with that completely cute smile. At least she thought it was rather cute.
Kiriun reached for the candy in her pocket and raised it to her mouth with a sigh. She could already tell it was going to long day. She glanced to Zetame who looked over his shoulder noticing her attention. "Yes?" She waved a hand lazily. "Can you play music or something? Or do a little dance?" Zetame tilted his head. "I don't play music but I can dance if it pleases you." She pursed her lips and scowled. "No, no. I'm just bored. I can't being in one area for so long but this is my job and I rather like it, ne?" He smiled and nodded returning to his previous command.
Kiriun shook her head. The machine has no feelings, it feels no fear and no hope, it operates according to the pure logic of probability. For this reason I assert that the robot perceives more accurately than man. However, we are not the only avatars of humanity. Once our computing machines achieved self-consciousness, they became part of this design. She bit down on her tongue. Poetry was always at her fingertips but who had time for poetry when you could be sliming muddies. She laughed and tilted her head back to relax and stop worrying.
OOC Notes
The silence rang on for a long time inside of Wendel's skull. It reverberated throughout every splintered bone and stringy muscle tether that held him together, threatening nihilism on his thoughts. Faint thoughts. Thoughts like fireflies inside a perfectly pitch black cave. Every time they murmured to life, they tore the world apart into a duality of light and dark. They made the dark separate from the light an all the things in-between that cast shadow and reflected. It was all sickly interwoven, and Wendel hated it. He just wanted to be dark for a while longer.
A light on his console flickered into life. Wendel sneered in disgust, slamming his bony hand down on the console to quell it. Dark. Dark. Dark. Just let me have some damn dark. Its ghostly image faded from Wendel's retina, and there was dark again. The chorus of silence began its sweet lullaby once more.
Then the light went off again. Why?! More of them. A swarm of angry lights and consoles dissected Wendel's limbo-like paradise into the lights, darks, shadows, and reflections that made his world hell. The long range scanners had picked someone up. It was time to be light. Damn it all! Our reserves are fine. Why can't we just- Wendel wouldn't finish this thought, because something far more obnoxious would come along to take its place. The radio spat the sound of his lackey's pitiful whine into the cockpit. "Hey, boss! We've got a live one up top!"
A holographic visual burst into view of the whine's originator. Young. Good-looking. Likes to wake up from hibernation every month or so and bug me. It was a given that Wendel hated the guy; he hated everyone. For the new kid, though, he reserved a special pool of malice that could almost be bottled and used to assassinate emperors. "Yeah, I bloody well know, Vvrek! I don't need a freakin' seeing eye dog. Now." Wendel stuck his finger right up to the holographic display. "FETCH!"
Wendel banished the new kid before his mood could be ruined any further. He was pissed enough just having to wake up. He needed to work this out on something till it stopped moving. Fortunately, that's where the Breaker came in. Wendel's cockpit view exploded with sunlight as his mech pierced the surface of the sand bank he'd been hibernating under for the last couple of months. He didn't even wince as the sun stung his eyes and a few painful tears rolled down his bony cheeks. Time to do it again. I wish I could have slept a little longer, but these fools couldn't wait to die...
Wendel's Guardian-class "Nidhoggr" brought its rail gun to bear and let loose his rage in a bone-shuddering explosion across the vessel's port side. Moments later, his three companions would simultaneously attack the treads at vital points, crippling the propulsion system. You hear. You hunt. You steal. You repair. You sleep. You wait. This is how you survive. He squeezed the trigger again; the lights of death dancing all across his face. This is how humanity survives.
A light on his console flickered into life. Wendel sneered in disgust, slamming his bony hand down on the console to quell it. Dark. Dark. Dark. Just let me have some damn dark. Its ghostly image faded from Wendel's retina, and there was dark again. The chorus of silence began its sweet lullaby once more.
Then the light went off again. Why?! More of them. A swarm of angry lights and consoles dissected Wendel's limbo-like paradise into the lights, darks, shadows, and reflections that made his world hell. The long range scanners had picked someone up. It was time to be light. Damn it all! Our reserves are fine. Why can't we just- Wendel wouldn't finish this thought, because something far more obnoxious would come along to take its place. The radio spat the sound of his lackey's pitiful whine into the cockpit. "Hey, boss! We've got a live one up top!"
A holographic visual burst into view of the whine's originator. Young. Good-looking. Likes to wake up from hibernation every month or so and bug me. It was a given that Wendel hated the guy; he hated everyone. For the new kid, though, he reserved a special pool of malice that could almost be bottled and used to assassinate emperors. "Yeah, I bloody well know, Vvrek! I don't need a freakin' seeing eye dog. Now." Wendel stuck his finger right up to the holographic display. "FETCH!"
Wendel banished the new kid before his mood could be ruined any further. He was pissed enough just having to wake up. He needed to work this out on something till it stopped moving. Fortunately, that's where the Breaker came in. Wendel's cockpit view exploded with sunlight as his mech pierced the surface of the sand bank he'd been hibernating under for the last couple of months. He didn't even wince as the sun stung his eyes and a few painful tears rolled down his bony cheeks. Time to do it again. I wish I could have slept a little longer, but these fools couldn't wait to die...
Wendel's Guardian-class "Nidhoggr" brought its rail gun to bear and let loose his rage in a bone-shuddering explosion across the vessel's port side. Moments later, his three companions would simultaneously attack the treads at vital points, crippling the propulsion system. You hear. You hunt. You steal. You repair. You sleep. You wait. This is how you survive. He squeezed the trigger again; the lights of death dancing all across his face. This is how humanity survives.
OOC Notes
The "party" was interrupted by an explosion, one that threw Mayh into a bookshelf with a loud grunt. More, smaller explosions rocked the floor underneath her, letting her know that the Breaker was under attack. With a snarl, the woman pulled herself upright and bounded out of the library, heading back to her room to get a different arm attachment.
"Where th' hell did I leave th' interfacer? I always misplace th' most importa shits right when I's be needin' em!" Mayh cried out triumphantly as she located the universal interface hub. Busting the seals on her left arm connector, she let the appendage clang to the floor and slapped the UIH into place. Using her neural network, she sent Kaidos the startup and key-in codes, urging him to boot and arm fast.
No time fer th' smarty alek remarks, Bill. We need ta get out dere an' defen' th' Breaker! Grab th' pepperbox 'n meet me in Dock 4! she pinged. Her loyal companion sent a reply ping, along with an initial damage assesment. Swearing mightily, Mayh dashed to her locker and pulled on her hard suit. With a short nod, Mayh sprinted down the hallway and into Dock 4, where Kaidos had already opened the bay door and had the cockpit open, ready for her. Mayh didn't even slow, she simply hopped lightly and the momentum carried her into the seat.
Once inside, Kaidos closed the outer hatches and initialized the jetpack. Mayh connected her left arm to the reciever cable and started keying commands on the virtual keyboard. Screaming out a challenge, Bill kickstarted the thrusters and skated out of the dock, skimming the sand lightly. As soon as he turned the corner, the foolhardy mech opened up with the pepperbox, sending thousands of high-velocity pellets downrange at the attackers.
"Where th' hell did I leave th' interfacer? I always misplace th' most importa shits right when I's be needin' em!" Mayh cried out triumphantly as she located the universal interface hub. Busting the seals on her left arm connector, she let the appendage clang to the floor and slapped the UIH into place. Using her neural network, she sent Kaidos the startup and key-in codes, urging him to boot and arm fast.
No time fer th' smarty alek remarks, Bill. We need ta get out dere an' defen' th' Breaker! Grab th' pepperbox 'n meet me in Dock 4! she pinged. Her loyal companion sent a reply ping, along with an initial damage assesment. Swearing mightily, Mayh dashed to her locker and pulled on her hard suit. With a short nod, Mayh sprinted down the hallway and into Dock 4, where Kaidos had already opened the bay door and had the cockpit open, ready for her. Mayh didn't even slow, she simply hopped lightly and the momentum carried her into the seat.
Once inside, Kaidos closed the outer hatches and initialized the jetpack. Mayh connected her left arm to the reciever cable and started keying commands on the virtual keyboard. Screaming out a challenge, Bill kickstarted the thrusters and skated out of the dock, skimming the sand lightly. As soon as he turned the corner, the foolhardy mech opened up with the pepperbox, sending thousands of high-velocity pellets downrange at the attackers.
OOC Notes
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OOC Notes
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OOC Notes
To the casual observer, Leslie lay silent and motionless against the only lee that the battered hull of the Breaker offered, but he was all too aware that he was anything but motionless. He was riding tectonic plates in their nihilistic march toward blazing compaction at the core. He was gingerly holding on to the skin of a planet spinning out of control, screaming through space at hundreds of miles per second. He was a mote of dust upon the smallest drop of water in a cascading universe that poured out in all directions like a pot that had been cast to the ground. He felt all this raw, kinetic force centered upon him; his stomach the axis of the universe's rotation. His body had forgotten how to feel that which was relative to him. Skin twinged and eyes winced and breath shuddered all in discordant harmony. Fear will do that to you. Starvation is the magnifying glass that will bring it so much more sharply into focus, though.
He sat with his feet planted in the electromagnetic boots that bound him to the corpse of the Breaker. His choice of perch today was the balcony, if a blasted-away section where only a door to the ship's interior could really be called balcony anymore. The others weren't fond of this spot much. Too little cover and too much risk of being blown off, they said in each of their own affectations of personality. Leslie wasn't bothered by these things much, an apathy that hunger is also conducive to. It let him watch the moods of the desert. He felt like the crows nest in a ghost ship sailing a slow-motion sea of drifting dunes. There must have been a point where he had been looking for signs of land and safe harbor, but that had gradually drifted away. Now, he just had a nice view of the end of the world.
A shadow brought his eyes out of their unfocused stupor. Was that-? No, just a specter materializing itself into existence from a wandering swirl of sand. The Sandsea was just reminding Leslie that it was alive, and just as hungry as he was. Hungry to gnash its teeth on the husk of a dead transport, no doubt. Leslie tensed his back, bringing his errant heartbeat into begrudging synchronicity with his body. Had to remain whole. Couldn't let his mind wander and his body languor. The one tethered the other. After a minute of making a concentrated effort to listen and process the electric impulses as meaningful clues as to what might be out in the storm, a process against which his mud-caked mind fought stubbornly, he instead clicked on the handheld transceiver. "..hello-o-0..." He was sure that the situation demanded something more to the electronic epitaph. His mind jarringly ground this square peg of a thought into the round problem. There just wasn't anything he could think of. The only thing that seemed to matter was that someone might know he existed.
He sat with his feet planted in the electromagnetic boots that bound him to the corpse of the Breaker. His choice of perch today was the balcony, if a blasted-away section where only a door to the ship's interior could really be called balcony anymore. The others weren't fond of this spot much. Too little cover and too much risk of being blown off, they said in each of their own affectations of personality. Leslie wasn't bothered by these things much, an apathy that hunger is also conducive to. It let him watch the moods of the desert. He felt like the crows nest in a ghost ship sailing a slow-motion sea of drifting dunes. There must have been a point where he had been looking for signs of land and safe harbor, but that had gradually drifted away. Now, he just had a nice view of the end of the world.
A shadow brought his eyes out of their unfocused stupor. Was that-? No, just a specter materializing itself into existence from a wandering swirl of sand. The Sandsea was just reminding Leslie that it was alive, and just as hungry as he was. Hungry to gnash its teeth on the husk of a dead transport, no doubt. Leslie tensed his back, bringing his errant heartbeat into begrudging synchronicity with his body. Had to remain whole. Couldn't let his mind wander and his body languor. The one tethered the other. After a minute of making a concentrated effort to listen and process the electric impulses as meaningful clues as to what might be out in the storm, a process against which his mud-caked mind fought stubbornly, he instead clicked on the handheld transceiver. "..hello-o-0..." He was sure that the situation demanded something more to the electronic epitaph. His mind jarringly ground this square peg of a thought into the round problem. There just wasn't anything he could think of. The only thing that seemed to matter was that someone might know he existed.
OOC Notes
The storm bit hard, like it always did, but to the mind of the mech stalking its way through it all, this was nothing new. It wasn't new for her human pilot either, but that was beside the point. She, her name being Zekial, had been keeping the auto-pilot running while the man in the control center of the mech, a Mk.3 Patrol, dozed enough to function whenever they finally caught up with the Breaker. A jarring shift woke the man, who groaned a bit then grinned as he sat up straight. "C'mon Zek, can't even get a few hours sleep before your falling asleep at the wheel?" This didn't get any laugh or anything, but there was an amused inflection in the AI's voice as she replied. "I am so sorry Ishy, but you know that the auto-pilot is shoddy. You installed it after all." A snorting laugh came from Ishmael, sitting up fully and settling into the controls, taking over and straightening out the limbering gait the mech had taken while he dozed. He had left the comm open, but had gotten nothing but static for the past few days, what felt like forever in his mind, but that was what it was.
"Cmon Zekial, you know not to call me Ishy. Just sounds wrong." The AI was about to reply when a comm burst finally came over the static, gain boosted enough to nearly deafen the man, and he flinched, turning it down enough back to bearable levels. He didn't have specialized comm rigs, but it was enough to be loud. Accompanying the sound was a wreck, and what he prayed to whoever would listen wasn't what he was told was to be his new post. The Breaker, from this distance at least, looked pretty broken alright. She wouldn't be doing breaking any time soon, at any rate. He smirked and replied on the comm, an amused and easy going tone carrying well, despite the interference. "Aye, guess that wreck has someone still talking. Who do I have the ever so prized honor of addressing at the moment?" It wasn't really the best way to go about the matter, but considering how roughed up the vessel looked, he highly doubted it would be standing on protocol very much at the moment.
Even if it was a mess, Ishmael was still glad to see the Breaker despite previous thoughts, even if it was wrecked and left for dead. It would provide some sort of cover besides the Mk.3, even as appreciated as it was, he could really do with some walking room again. He had slept while keeping the thing walking by jamming some controls in certain patterns. Hence the numerous stabs by his AI Zekial at his ad hoc installation of the so called auto-pilot. It was a miracle they had gotten along well enough during the walking, mainly because of the idea that they rarely agreed to do anything at all, let alone apply rough and improvised improvements to the Mk.3, no matter how useful they would be. She still said no on the air fresheners, despite his better attempts to get, or trick, her into saying yes. Only needed one approval, but no, not yet. He kept the mech walking forward, so both its outline, and the Breaker's, became clearer to both parties. He waited patiently for the person on the wreck to respond, half expecting docking orders, half expecting nothing specific. Can't be specifically disappointed without specifically expecting something.
"Cmon Zekial, you know not to call me Ishy. Just sounds wrong." The AI was about to reply when a comm burst finally came over the static, gain boosted enough to nearly deafen the man, and he flinched, turning it down enough back to bearable levels. He didn't have specialized comm rigs, but it was enough to be loud. Accompanying the sound was a wreck, and what he prayed to whoever would listen wasn't what he was told was to be his new post. The Breaker, from this distance at least, looked pretty broken alright. She wouldn't be doing breaking any time soon, at any rate. He smirked and replied on the comm, an amused and easy going tone carrying well, despite the interference. "Aye, guess that wreck has someone still talking. Who do I have the ever so prized honor of addressing at the moment?" It wasn't really the best way to go about the matter, but considering how roughed up the vessel looked, he highly doubted it would be standing on protocol very much at the moment.
Even if it was a mess, Ishmael was still glad to see the Breaker despite previous thoughts, even if it was wrecked and left for dead. It would provide some sort of cover besides the Mk.3, even as appreciated as it was, he could really do with some walking room again. He had slept while keeping the thing walking by jamming some controls in certain patterns. Hence the numerous stabs by his AI Zekial at his ad hoc installation of the so called auto-pilot. It was a miracle they had gotten along well enough during the walking, mainly because of the idea that they rarely agreed to do anything at all, let alone apply rough and improvised improvements to the Mk.3, no matter how useful they would be. She still said no on the air fresheners, despite his better attempts to get, or trick, her into saying yes. Only needed one approval, but no, not yet. He kept the mech walking forward, so both its outline, and the Breaker's, became clearer to both parties. He waited patiently for the person on the wreck to respond, half expecting docking orders, half expecting nothing specific. Can't be specifically disappointed without specifically expecting something.
OOC Notes
The man was sleeping, one arm thrown over his face, the other hanging off the bed, dangling towards the floor. He was shirtless, dressed only in dusty black jeans and rather moth-eaten trainers. A disgruntled huff as the young man twisted his body over for the second time, unwittingly turning into the light once more. “Merde.” The word fell softly from his partly opened lips, accompanied by the rough scrubbing of one hand over his half-open, blinking eyes. He was awake now, and unimpressed by this fact. He attempted to immerse himself in the dream he’d been rather enjoying, but his efforts were summarily unsuccessful, and he snapped his eyes open once more, thoroughly irritated.
“Mornin,’” the man enunciated slowly, a disgruntled expression settling comfortably across his features as he swung his legs around and stepped onto the familiar floor. “This is so not how I wanted to wake up today.” The thick accent was fading now, getting speedily replaced by an erratic mix of perfect enunciation and slurring incomprehensibility that even a man with a translator wouldn’t be able to identify.
Alexander’s attention turned to a radio lying discarded on the floor, still buzzing enthusiastically. This nightmarish device was what had woken him in the first place, and the temptation to squash the thing into happy oblivion was strong. He squatted down to pick the damned thing up, gathering up the tinted glasses lying next to it, muttering darkly about stupid rules and stupid people making the rules.
As he straightened up smoothly and turned to survey the rest of the empty, unsavoury room, Alexander slipped the glasses onto his face, the tension leaving his shoulders as his pale eyes were shielded from the bright light. His drifting brain then noted, for consideration, that he was only wearing his omnipresent jeans, but this fact was summarily discarded as he clipped the radio to his belt and went padding through into the next room to persuade someone to turn the damned radio off.
“Mornin,’” the man enunciated slowly, a disgruntled expression settling comfortably across his features as he swung his legs around and stepped onto the familiar floor. “This is so not how I wanted to wake up today.” The thick accent was fading now, getting speedily replaced by an erratic mix of perfect enunciation and slurring incomprehensibility that even a man with a translator wouldn’t be able to identify.
Alexander’s attention turned to a radio lying discarded on the floor, still buzzing enthusiastically. This nightmarish device was what had woken him in the first place, and the temptation to squash the thing into happy oblivion was strong. He squatted down to pick the damned thing up, gathering up the tinted glasses lying next to it, muttering darkly about stupid rules and stupid people making the rules.
As he straightened up smoothly and turned to survey the rest of the empty, unsavoury room, Alexander slipped the glasses onto his face, the tension leaving his shoulders as his pale eyes were shielded from the bright light. His drifting brain then noted, for consideration, that he was only wearing his omnipresent jeans, but this fact was summarily discarded as he clipped the radio to his belt and went padding through into the next room to persuade someone to turn the damned radio off.
OOC Notes
After a full afternoon in a hot, cramped transport making lunch, then premature dinner, the Sandsea's winds felt like the meaning of bliss and heaven itself. That is, for approximately two seconds before they threatened to topple and bury Adalyn in the sand. In the corner of her eye, a particularly stripped-down mech abruptly stopped and bent down to one knee; its' control quarters opening to reveal an empty, seemingly bare space. Released from her fantasy, she wasted no time and, now sprinting, made a flying leap into the Rogue's ready and waiting cockpit. Once secure and fairly safe (without falling over even once, I might add), she relaxed against the cushioned walls while the mech, once again, continued forward in it's leisurely pace.
"Would it have killed you to stop just a little closer?" A set of controls and screens blinked into existence about and around her, giving a view of the outside as well as a map of mech/communication signals. "Yes, my midget pilot. Would it have killed you to put a bit more thought into it before you picked the most fragile mech out there?" Sarcasm rolled off the AI's programmed voice, which would've been accompanied by an eye roll if Teresa had a face. Adalyn was spared a reply she noticed a tiny, red dot of a transceiver, a radio. By the time she flipped the switch to hear any such message, the other pilot out there had already begun his reply; the evidence she'd missed the first break in the monotone static that had plagued her system for days.
A few seconds later the outline of, presumably, The Breaker differentiated itself from the Sandsea dust. It's broken form raised but only an eyebrow, before Adalyn's facial features broke into sadness at the prospect of the new numbers of people she'd probably now have to cook for. And single-handedly, too. What luck. She dared not complain in the midst of her AI, where a worse comment surely would come biting back. Teresa, however, was otherwise occupied with running the camouflage on; paranoid that whatever had caused the Breaker's demise might be lurking somewhere behind the dunes of sand. Adalyn took the chance to appear busy and, in no time at all (and oblivious to the paranoia her partner was experiencing), the Rogue had maneuvered somewhere close by the Mk.3; but fully obscured in both signal and appearance.
And there she waited for any reply from the transceiver, moving forward as the AI buried her in insulting comments for what she had just done.
"Would it have killed you to stop just a little closer?" A set of controls and screens blinked into existence about and around her, giving a view of the outside as well as a map of mech/communication signals. "Yes, my midget pilot. Would it have killed you to put a bit more thought into it before you picked the most fragile mech out there?" Sarcasm rolled off the AI's programmed voice, which would've been accompanied by an eye roll if Teresa had a face. Adalyn was spared a reply she noticed a tiny, red dot of a transceiver, a radio. By the time she flipped the switch to hear any such message, the other pilot out there had already begun his reply; the evidence she'd missed the first break in the monotone static that had plagued her system for days.
A few seconds later the outline of, presumably, The Breaker differentiated itself from the Sandsea dust. It's broken form raised but only an eyebrow, before Adalyn's facial features broke into sadness at the prospect of the new numbers of people she'd probably now have to cook for. And single-handedly, too. What luck. She dared not complain in the midst of her AI, where a worse comment surely would come biting back. Teresa, however, was otherwise occupied with running the camouflage on; paranoid that whatever had caused the Breaker's demise might be lurking somewhere behind the dunes of sand. Adalyn took the chance to appear busy and, in no time at all (and oblivious to the paranoia her partner was experiencing), the Rogue had maneuvered somewhere close by the Mk.3; but fully obscured in both signal and appearance.
And there she waited for any reply from the transceiver, moving forward as the AI buried her in insulting comments for what she had just done.
OOC Notes
Meanwhile, somewhere several miles from the others' vehicles, a huge, dark-alloy vehicle unintentionally retaining the vague shape of a scorpion crashed across the sand dunes at reckless, breakneck speed. Geysers of sand crashed up about its massive wheels as the gigantic thing sliced through the dunes, bounding across the ravaged landscape like an ancient warhorse made of steel and carbon. Sensor pylons and gaudy, swirling paint decals curled across its length, shaded now and then by a cloud of dust kicked into the air as the landship crashed along its course, its direction vague but set.
In the pilot's seat was a man dressed in wild colors, bouncing excitedly with each great crashing leap, letting out a whoop as the engines roared, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of rushing sand and howling wind. Herodotus was not a gentle man, and he drove the Pathfinder the way he made love - hard and fast and usually while shitfaced drunk. As he was thrown about the tiny cabin, whooping and hollering the whole time, the navigator kept a vague watch over several screens that flickered nervously with every hump the Pathfinder crossed and every hard landing it made - a master electrician Hero was not, and the hard driving style he preferred didn't lend itself to a particularly long-lasting cycle between refits. But Hero wouldn't under any circumstances let someone else touch his beloved Pathfinder's gizzards, and so the terrible wiring remained.
Hero hollered an off-key song very loudly, so drunk that the lyrics were little more than a long, slurred "Aaaaalalalalaaaaalalaha" as he flicked his eyes from display to display, savoring the roar of the engines and the rush of the sand as the Pathfinder roared across the horizon, moving towards a large, vague shape in the distance. Suddenly, one of the displays lit up and a hissing, delicate signal came through. It was a communications array, designed to pick up transmissions from other Breakers in the area in the event of distress calls being transmitted. It took the distress frequencies from every Breaker in the NOMAD fleet and then, one by one, checked them. If it didn't pick up a transmission it flicked to the next one after a few seconds, and if it did it locked on.
He'd picked up one such signal mere moments ago, and was now crashing across the sand towards it. Sure enough, as if to prove that it wasn't a glitch in the system, another transmission floated through minutes later. Herodotus picked up the receiver and howled back, "HEYO, BOY! Where you at; I'm on my way. Big ol' blot on the horizon, right? 'Ey, tell me if you can see this." He moved his hand to a toggle switch on one of the myriad hanging instrument panels, and a shrieking noise on the roof of the Pathfinder betrayed the launch of an emergency flare. Every channel was immediately flooded with the sounds of Hero's AI repeating a stock distress message in a monotone voice: "This Unit is in severe distress and requires immediate assistance at the following co-ordinates," followed by said coordinates. "Ignore that," Hero said, "An' just tell me if you can see it. It's kinda purty, really can't miss it unless your eyes are closed."
In the pilot's seat was a man dressed in wild colors, bouncing excitedly with each great crashing leap, letting out a whoop as the engines roared, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of rushing sand and howling wind. Herodotus was not a gentle man, and he drove the Pathfinder the way he made love - hard and fast and usually while shitfaced drunk. As he was thrown about the tiny cabin, whooping and hollering the whole time, the navigator kept a vague watch over several screens that flickered nervously with every hump the Pathfinder crossed and every hard landing it made - a master electrician Hero was not, and the hard driving style he preferred didn't lend itself to a particularly long-lasting cycle between refits. But Hero wouldn't under any circumstances let someone else touch his beloved Pathfinder's gizzards, and so the terrible wiring remained.
Hero hollered an off-key song very loudly, so drunk that the lyrics were little more than a long, slurred "Aaaaalalalalaaaaalalaha" as he flicked his eyes from display to display, savoring the roar of the engines and the rush of the sand as the Pathfinder roared across the horizon, moving towards a large, vague shape in the distance. Suddenly, one of the displays lit up and a hissing, delicate signal came through. It was a communications array, designed to pick up transmissions from other Breakers in the area in the event of distress calls being transmitted. It took the distress frequencies from every Breaker in the NOMAD fleet and then, one by one, checked them. If it didn't pick up a transmission it flicked to the next one after a few seconds, and if it did it locked on.
He'd picked up one such signal mere moments ago, and was now crashing across the sand towards it. Sure enough, as if to prove that it wasn't a glitch in the system, another transmission floated through minutes later. Herodotus picked up the receiver and howled back, "HEYO, BOY! Where you at; I'm on my way. Big ol' blot on the horizon, right? 'Ey, tell me if you can see this." He moved his hand to a toggle switch on one of the myriad hanging instrument panels, and a shrieking noise on the roof of the Pathfinder betrayed the launch of an emergency flare. Every channel was immediately flooded with the sounds of Hero's AI repeating a stock distress message in a monotone voice: "This Unit is in severe distress and requires immediate assistance at the following co-ordinates," followed by said coordinates. "Ignore that," Hero said, "An' just tell me if you can see it. It's kinda purty, really can't miss it unless your eyes are closed."
OOC Notes
Alexander leaned up against the wall of the transport - not difficult, since, in Alexander's estimation the ratio of walls to floor space was heavily weighted in the former's favour - idly scratching the newest row of stitches adorning his right hand shoulder. At present, he couldn't quite recall what he'd actually bumped into most recently, since the entire transport was full of spiky ambiguous objects that Alexander spent a lot of time swearing at.
A cursory look at the controls and the panel that would pass for a window if you were a midget with bad hair, and a sound that was almost a laugh escaped him, a derisive smile curving his lips upwards. "That's the Breaker? Not particularly impressive. I was expecting...I dunno. More." He seemed to be addressing the radio, breaking off to stare daggers at the device when it started crackling again.
A second later, and his eardrums were getting savaged by some horrendous noise. When he finally figured out that it was actually a message directed towards the Breaker, Alexander rolled his eyes, swearing softly, and clipped the thing to his belt again.
Another, more involved look at what he could see of the controls informed Alexander that it wasn't in fact morning, and that he'd somehow fallen asleep during what passed for daytime here. Only a gentle shrug accompanied that realisation - it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
A cursory look at the controls and the panel that would pass for a window if you were a midget with bad hair, and a sound that was almost a laugh escaped him, a derisive smile curving his lips upwards. "That's the Breaker? Not particularly impressive. I was expecting...I dunno. More." He seemed to be addressing the radio, breaking off to stare daggers at the device when it started crackling again.
A second later, and his eardrums were getting savaged by some horrendous noise. When he finally figured out that it was actually a message directed towards the Breaker, Alexander rolled his eyes, swearing softly, and clipped the thing to his belt again.
Another, more involved look at what he could see of the controls informed Alexander that it wasn't in fact morning, and that he'd somehow fallen asleep during what passed for daytime here. Only a gentle shrug accompanied that realisation - it wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.
OOC Notes
A lot was happening all at once, and Leslie's transceiver could barely take the stress of it all. The device let out a belch of sparks, announcing its impunity at having to sort through more than one conversation at a time. It had been cobbled together out of what was left of the communications array, post homicidal bandit scavenging, and certainly bore more strong of a resemblance to the alarm clock side of its family tree. The device's pouting didn't phase Leslie any. He churlishly clicked the button that read 'Radio On' and responded to both parties on the airwaves. "Hero! You've come back to save the day, but it would seem we have a few others vying for the position." He adjusted his tone to that of the stern overlord about to pit two potentials to the death; he went so far into the roles as to stroke his highly non-existent facial hair. "I'm afraid I'll have to do this diplomatically. What are your credentials, mystery nice dude? Do you have any expertise in the area of doomed passenger recovery?" Leslie's stomach cut into the conversation by emitting a sound that surely ranked with 'nails on a chalkboard' as one of the most horrendous sounds producible biologically. Thin fingers worked his sunken stomach back into its angry doze. His grin became sheepish with the realization that the radio was still on. "Also, do you have pancakes? The name's Leslie, resident hungry guy who needs a lift on the Breaker. We're still trying to find a plaque wide enough for that title, though."
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Crankshaft: Out Of Character (OOC)
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Crankshaft
1 ... 7, 8, 9by Tilting Clock on Wed Aug 10, 2011 10:31 pm
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on Tue May 22, 2012 10:42 am
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Crankshaft
Most recent OOC posts in Crankshaft
Re: Crankshaft
Curse my friend for getting me addicted to Mass Effect! I just HAD to push through the suicide mission in ME2 last night. Distraction completed. Posting now!
EDIT: It had to be a quick one this morning. I'm going to work now. I'll be back on in six hours. If no one else has posted by then, I'll probably edit it to flesh it out. If anyone does get on, feel free to move things along.
EDIT: It had to be a quick one this morning. I'm going to work now. I'll be back on in six hours. If no one else has posted by then, I'll probably edit it to flesh it out. If anyone does get on, feel free to move things along.
Re: Crankshaft
Sorry, the past week has been nothing but long shifts at work for me. I'm going to be on tomorrow afternoon to post!
Re: Crankshaft
I'm on and going to post right now. I think I'll also work on some nice graphics and text to spruce up the welcome page. Maybe that'll help draw in a few more players.
Re: Crankshaft
Excellent, I look forward to it!
Nocturne's attendance is going to be here and there for a few months. I'll try and get in touch with him. I believe Basta is up to respond to Cypher's post.
Nocturne's attendance is going to be here and there for a few months. I'll try and get in touch with him. I believe Basta is up to respond to Cypher's post.
Re: Crankshaft
I sent you a PM, please disregard it. I'll try to make room for two more RPs. Give me a couple days to draft a character up, though.
Re: Crankshaft
Are you accepting character submissions? I'm interested in joining, but I want to be sure if I get the green light.
Re: Crankshaft
Cool, we're only a half-step away from having the two teams meet up. Looks like the rescue team is long gone. We can just puppet their ship for a bit and use it to get the Breaker up and running. I'll put up a request for more players to pop into existence in their crew. I'll get back to checking this regularly!
Re: Crankshaft
I feel you, Cypher. I'm working more than ever and trying to get things finalized for school on top of it. Throw in surprise expenses and you've got yourself a hectic sundae with busy on top! I'm gonna go post now!
Re: Crankshaft
Sorry, sorry. I've been completely overwhelmed these last few months, with life, college... Pretty much everything.
Re: Crankshaft
I keep trying to get Cypher in, as he's an integral part of the scene here, but no luck getting a hold of him.
Re: [OOC] Crankshaft
Gah! Back!
To clarify what Saint-Genevieve is doing, and the impacts I'm looking for:
1) By putting the generators on combat setting, I'm essentially over-amping them. We'll get more powah, but the likelihood of burning them out is increased, and I'm definitely burning reaction mass up.
2) I'm also bypassing all the non-combat functions of the ship. This may include environmentals, except for cooling of combat equipment.
3) I'm looking for an updated status of automatic defensive armament; from the engineer's panel I can provide only limited manual overrides to the automatic program. I presume that there's a master tactical suite somewhere, but not where I am.
4) I can also route/vector rescue assets to my position, but again, I can't provide combat control from the engineer's console.
5) Big items: I can probably track large, heavy objects (mechs, vehicles) using the sensor suite, but not individuals, even ones in battle armor.
Anything I'm assuming that's not the case, TC?
-Nocturne
To clarify what Saint-Genevieve is doing, and the impacts I'm looking for:
1) By putting the generators on combat setting, I'm essentially over-amping them. We'll get more powah, but the likelihood of burning them out is increased, and I'm definitely burning reaction mass up.
2) I'm also bypassing all the non-combat functions of the ship. This may include environmentals, except for cooling of combat equipment.
3) I'm looking for an updated status of automatic defensive armament; from the engineer's panel I can provide only limited manual overrides to the automatic program. I presume that there's a master tactical suite somewhere, but not where I am.
4) I can also route/vector rescue assets to my position, but again, I can't provide combat control from the engineer's console.
5) Big items: I can probably track large, heavy objects (mechs, vehicles) using the sensor suite, but not individuals, even ones in battle armor.
Anything I'm assuming that's not the case, TC?
-Nocturne
Re: [OOC] Crankshaft
A'ight. I was in another RP that had a notepad set up, and that was a hella good idea. Try that?
Re: [OOC] Crankshaft
What do you guys think of setting it up so the chat feature can be used to have little interactions between characters that are non-linear to the posting? It'd be something to play with if we have a few people online, but they're waiting on other developments to occur before posting again.
