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Nebula's Dawn: Lance of Liberty

Syntere

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a part of Nebula's Dawn: Lance of Liberty, by VindicatedPurpose.

The capital city of the temperate planet of Trangelis.

RolePlayGateway holds sovereignty over Syntere, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

219 readers have been here.

Setting

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A large metropolitan center that holds the main governorship of the planet of Trangelis. This is one of the largest cities on the fringe of human space. Syntere is home to some of the largest starports and ship manufacturing industries in the fringe.
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Syntere

The capital city of the temperate planet of Trangelis.

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Syntere is a part of Trangelis.

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Lionel Krieger [2] Can't we settle this over a pint?

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Character Portrait: Lionel Krieger
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Lionel swayed slowly on his chair his eyes closing in sequence, apparently they had given up on the idea of closing together, he was facing towards the holographic projection of the Gravball although it was difficult to see whether he was actually looking at or if it had managed to get through to his alcohol smothered brain but he was making grunts at all the right times. Even if it was for both teams.

After some few minutes of continuing his blank expressionless stare he glanced down towards his beer in confusion, trying to fathom how one would go about trying to get it from the glass and into their system. He stared it down daring it to make the first move, eventually however he managed to defeat his liquid adversary and slammed the glass down onto the counter in a sign of drunken victory.

“Fill me up Jo!” He smiled, returning to his swaying again, trying to focus enough so as to see the wall behind the bar and the humanoid shape that he assumed was the bartender.

“I think you’ve had enough now Lye. Otherwise we’re going to have to leave you outside again.” The barkeep smiled jokingly; there was of course no animosity between them, Lionel was one of his best customers after all and if he wanted to get blind drunk every day then that what else could Jo do but oblige him in his hour of need.

“Never!” Lionel shouted quite theatrically jumping to his feet and raising his arm, taking his neighbour’s glass along with it

“Oi! What you think you’re doing!” A dominating large shape boomed down at him. Lionel slowly looked up at this new voice, which was something that didn’t happen often. “I am…” He thought for a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure of the answer and the much larger man in front of him was gradually gaining shape, the situation he was now in groggily forming in his mind. So far Lionel had discovered the man was bald, missing most of his teeth and seemed very short on neck. “What are you doing?!” Lionel eventually growled back, trying to pull himself to his full height. A difficult feat when you’re too drunk to feel your legs.

Under usual situations having been a soldier for most of his life Lionel could take a punch or two and under the heavy influence of alcohol that was only extended and although he couldn’t feel much in his current inebriated state; it was obvious that tomorrow he was going to hurt.

The fight was finished almost as quickly as it started, Lionel had apparently got a lucky punch in and the giant was brought crashing down bringing a table with him before Lionel himself collapsed to the floor, either from the pain from the first punch finally reaching his brain or because the alcohol had got the better of him at last.

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The Nadd Residence

"So let me get this straight," Cantor paused, rubbing his shaven chin.

It had been the first time he shaved in about a month. He was sitting back in a slumped posture against his black armchair. He was in his condominium's living room, the large windows gave him a direct sight at the daytime skyline of Syntere. However, he was many miles away from the large metropolis. In fact his condo was a secluded lakefront estate, and his house was among a number of other wealthy, yet low-profile people. Cantor once believed that all these people were businessmen, landowners, or professionals, who preferred living far from the congested city. He later found out that he had much in common with his neighbors than he originally thought.

"You want me to run a couple of 'shipments' to New Sidney?" Cantor gazed directly into the viewing screen.

"That's correct." The White Crow, as he was known, said tersely. Crow was professional to say the least, an enigmatic figure, but beyond that, one could only wonder.

The White Crow did not let slip a breath, his eyes were hidden under the shade of his hat. A bright little orange ember was centered on his face, with a trail of smoke flowing from that ember. Crow pulled the cigarette away with his fore and middle fingers to exhale a breath of smoke that clouded the viewing screen before Cantor.

Cantor pursed his lips for a moment, nodded as he went through his thoughts. He had avoided eye contact, because, what eye contact was there to be made between him and a face shrouded in shadow?

The henchmen standing beside Cantor looked at each other with uncertainty. They had been in the business awhile now, and they knew their employer as a man of unpredictability. Then again, they weren't being paid for that, they were being paid to protect him and his business. Though Cantor was a capable fellow, one man couldn't protect his entire empire by himself.

"You want to tell me what they're for at least?" Cantor asked, once again staring straight into the blackness of Crow's hidden face.

The White Crow exhaled some more smoke before he spoke. "Do you need to know?"

Crow was an extremely shrewd character, and Cantor knew this, but he also knew that the man was an infamous rogue in the underworld. Deals with him were always lucrative and mutually beneficial...in most cases. Cantor had heard stories of Crow sending a group of bounty hunters to cut up Alyk Trakzynsky for failing...whatever it was he failed him. Rumors circulated that Crow had paid the group an extra ten percent, because he was feeling generous. The man had connections, Cantor admitted personally. This was a deal that he could do, and one that he couldn't pass up.

"Fine, I'll deliver them. Just tell me what to send." Cantor reclined back into his seat.

"Excellent, I've sent the details to your personal account," the Crow vanished as the screen faded to black. Cantor's henchmen stood uneasily, watching their boss as he sat there for several moments after the communique had terminated.

"How the hell does he have my personal account?" Cantor asked aloud.

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Character Portrait: Eden Allaway
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#, as written by Nyte
Eden Allaway

It was past noon by the she sleepily woke up. Eden never really cared to get up early, she seldom had too. Almost immediately after waking up, she was greeted by her butler, Sebastian. Sebastian was a plump, kind-hearted old man of around seventy, he had taken care of her since she was but an infant.

"Good morning Sebastian."

"Good mourning madam. I've prepared breakfast for you, vegetarian omelet as usual." Sebastian always knew when Eden generally woke up, and made adjustments accordingly.

Sebastian is noted as being one of the few people Eden can trust and accepts her for who she is. Though, he does sometimes forget that Eden isn't a teenager in the chronological sense, as he might refer to her as a "young girl". But that's only out of habit.

Eden's house, or rather her manor, was gigantic, getting from one place to another can take a little while. Her steps echoed throughout the empty halls until she reached her destination: The horse field. Yes, her yard as one might call it is a large field for her to ride her horse around. Eden got on her thoroughbred named Stardust and gently galloped through the emptiness of the field. This was how Eden liked to spend time, away from everyone else in a large open space. Just Eden and her trusted horse.

Moments later, she heard a buzz emit from her pocket. Someone was calling her. The ID, revealed it as Sebastian. That's strange, Sebastian doesn't usually call unless if it's an emergency., Eden thought to herself.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Allaway, a special guest would like to speak with you immediately..." There was a notable struggle in his voice.

"Um, I'll be right there."

Eden couldn't help but be suspicious. Why would Sebastian call her now? Why did he sound so strange? Eden raced back through the halls as fast as her legs could take her. She felt her adrenaline pumping. It wouldn't be much longer until she saw a horrifying sight. Sebastian was being held hostage by one of her guards. It was Mark, who she hired a few months ago. So this was his real reason, he wanted Eden's blood.

"Ah, you have no idea how hard it was having to sit through your depressing ass each and every day. Anyhow, someone out there will be paying me handsomely for you!" Mark knocked Sebastian down to the floor and then aimed his gun squarely at Eden. "Now don't move a muscle. I may not kill you, they want you alive all. But I promise that you will know pain if you try anything."

Eden trembled at this, falling to her knees as tears uncontrollably ran down her cheeks. "What do you want from me?!" she yelled out. Mark smiled, "Isn't it obvious? People want your gift, your special immortality. And believe me, they will pay handsomely to anyone who can capture you." Eden was on the verge of a breakdown.

Why is it always about my blood?!

At that moment, she heard someone yell out "Stay away from her!". It was Sebastian. The old man actually had quite a bit of combat experience under his belt. He was an SAS operative in his youth and has experience in numerous battles, disasters and wars. All of which he was about to utilize on this bounty hunter. Sebastian knocked the pistol out of Mark's hands, sliding across the floor to Eden's feet. "Fuck!", he exclaimed. The two engage in hand-to-hand combat.

Sadly, Sebastian's age seemed to have caught up to him. Mark wrapping his hands around his neck, and after that a distinctive snap was heard throughout the hallways followed by the sound of his body dropping to the floor. Mark turned around to search for his gun, only to find it shaking in the hands of a certain someone. Mark was terrified, seeing Eden's angry face with tears running uncontrollably down her eyes. He could tell that Eden wasn't in a rational mood and that this could very well end badly for him. "Hold on now! Don't do anything you mi-"

"SHUT UP!"

Seven shots were fired, all of them hitting the bounty hunter in different places and knocking him back about a foot with each hit. Mark fell to the ground struggling for life until he finally gave out. Eden then fell unconscious out sheer shock of what happened and what she had done.

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The Underworld

The Underworld, as it was known to the inhabitants of Syntere's upper, or rather newer city, harbored criminals of all sorts within the various slums and and trash filled streets. Every minute one would pass by an ex-convict, a mercenary, a cybernetic organism, a pirate, a petty thief, a scumbag, the list would go on. Meanwhile, prostitutes lined the street, any kind really, male and female alike. The place had many street signs, but most were in poor condition. The neon sign of a small clinic read as Ne ls n Med ca Ce ter, the other letters had burnt out.

Out of all the stores and businesses that lived in the underworld, only bars, nightclubs, and clinics survived. The former two were obvious, they were hangouts for the transient kind, and meeting places for larger criminal groups. Though, bartenders were heavily staffed and armed, which meant that any thief or group attempting to destroy their business, would likely be met with retaliatory gunfire. This was also the reason why a number of personally owned stores disappeared quickly early on when the new city established itself. Mafia groups and gangs immediately ransacked the old streets and established the laws.

As these groups went on to consolidate their control over the liquor chains, they met...trouble to say the least. One infamous incident involved Tessner's Bar, now a popular locale for the underworld bugs, and the Marichioni family, a mafia patriarchy. The Marichionis were attempting to establish their perimeter in the industrial district of the old city, and Tessner's Bar, owned by William Tessner, was on the last square to be covered. Salvator Marichioni, the youngest son, a hot head, and a bit of a dumbass, attempted to take it by force with a group of henchmen. Tessner, however, held his ground, and with the help of his fellow bartenders and waiters managed to hold their own in a gunfight against Salvator and henchmen. Salvator was lucky he managed to get out alive. He returned to tell his father, Luciano, known as "Papa" back then, about the events. Subsequent attempts to take Tessner's by force were met with failure, eventually the Marichionis gave up.

As for the latter reason, people always had money, that was stolen, and wounds. Both, helped clinics to prosper.

Nadd knew the streets almost like the back of his hand. Thus, instead of dressing the way he would normally dress in the house, he decided to stick with a trench coat that covered the underlying layer of personal body armor that he had on. Instead of driving in one of his newer cars that he managed to buy with laundered money, he decided it was best that he shuffled about like the rest of them.

As he reached a bar, he decided to tap his communicator once to make a final call before he went in.

"Are you sure this is the place, Saul?"

"Positive, the man you're lookin' for frequently hangs out there, and if he isn't there. I can you send you the coordinates of other bars that he goes to."

"The way you say it, it sounds like he's a drunk. Are you sure about this guy?"

"Okay, so he likes to drink, so what? Everybody's got problems, but he's got a clean record with me, and he's definitely competent and capable."

"We'll see..."

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Character Portrait: Lionel Krieger
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(Co-written with TurtleSoup)

The Nadd Residence

Nadd had managed to carry the drunk bastard back to his house. His guards were off duty in the morning, but they would spring forth at a moment's notice and be at his house in a couple of minutes.

Nadd exited his master bedroom, dressed in a simple suit, no tie, underneath was a thin body vest. As a merchant, smuggler, and black market criminal, he knew that a sword hung above his head like that of Damocles. Nadd didn't hesitate though, this was the life he chose, and he didn't regret it.

He sat down on a curved leather sectional directly across from the fabric sofa that Lionel rested upon. He had left Lionel on the couch for the night, while he slept in his bedroom. He had his eye on his digital watch, which blinked in cyan colors, 9:10, while he waited for the mercenary to pull himself out of repose.

The butler, an old, thin man, held a tray in one hand and entered the living room, with its raised ceiling. He proceeded to set the tray down in front of Nadd.

"Thank you, Ronald," Nadd went about eating, the old man replied with a nod.

"And what will he be having, sir?"

"When he wakes up, you can ask him." Nadd answered.

Lionel grunted. Opening and closing his mouth sleepily, rolling himself over and wrapping one of the pillows in his arms. "Mni don't want the lil one..." He mumbled.

One of his eyes open slightly, taking a sleepy glance at the room before closing just as dreamily. Then all of a sudden both eyes were open and his hand shot to where his gun was usually holstered, flying to his feet he held his 'gun' ready to shoot at his kidnapper. "Who are you?" He half growled before it dawned on him he was pointing a remote at his well dressed assailant.

Nadd's mouth fell open slightly for a moment. For starters, this was the first time someone had managed to get a "gun" so close to his head. Secondly, he was amazed at how quick the mercenary managed to draw a "weapon" after waking up with a hangover, or at least he thought Lionel had a hangover. Lastly, the bastard had completely forgotten who he was, but he shouldn't have been surprised, considering how drunk Lionel was the night before. Then he blinked and sealed his lips, before finally talking.

"Calm down big man, you were drunk last night, so I carried you to my house."

The butler, approached Lionel, "What will you be having for breakfast sir?"

Blinking slightly dazed, Lionel stood motionless for several moments before lowering the remote as though it really was still a gun. "Oh." He answered still trying to re-piece everything together from the night before his memories and head still feeling fuzzy. He turned his head as the older gentlemen approached, evidently his kidnapper, saviour, host person was of some social standing and wealth. "Umm, breakfast?" He smiled brightly at the butler, obviously impressed, "I could get used to this." He patted the frail man upon his shoulder, slightly less forceful then his jovial slaps were normally, in case he induced some form of heart attack in the frail man.

"Do you know how to make a full English?" He asked with a smile before sitting down and running his hand across his short hair. "Right, so I got drunk and ended up here. Err... I'm really sorry friend but as much as I like breakfast being made for me I don't really swing that way... so I don't think this is going to work..." Lionel began the night before slowly beginning to reconfigure itself in his memory. "Wait, no I remember... Naff right?" he guessed. "Well, so far this mission is sounding interesting, you carried me home and your butler is making me breakfast." His head was beginning to catch up to the rest of his body and the hangover was definitely starting to ache in his head but this was not a feeling Lionel was new to, he had learnt over time to ignore the dull thudding. “So, what is it you want me to do?” He leant inwards towards Nadd from his seat, with a keen interest.