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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
315
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Posted - 2014.09.22 01:13:00 -
[1] - Quote
Opening
The voyage through Tenal was an event in itself. On no less than three occasions, a band of Guristas had failed a warp scrambler attempt on Crow class frigate, and the captain had successfully thrown at least four interdiction zones before arriving in the target system. The mysterious captain never left his pod or spoke to his crew, instead opting to use Galm as a sort of oracle to communicate with the fire team. When the word came to prepare for docking, it came from Galm. In the limited space of the Caldari frigate the mercenary ducked between crew, pipes, and machinery to ensure each and every soldier aboard was adiquatly prepared for what lay ahead. He paused only once when the target was finally within view of the window.
Shoashu Saasanko.
It had been over a year since Galm had been here. Even from the outside it wreaked of sin. Jagged, asymmetrical pylons extended out past the tower-like structure, venting their neon light into the oblivion beyond to advertise the hell that stirred within. When he finally addressed the crew he was dressed not as a soldier, but a civilian. A new olive drab jacket draped around his shoulders, his emblem displayed proudly on his right for all to see. Mirrored aviators framed his face, highlighting his most distinct features against his mop of unkempt hair. If his father were still around, the resemblance would have been uncanny.
Quote:"Listen up team. We all know why we're here. We're going to bring Snowfall Station to it's knees, and capture on Gurista linchpin by the name of Advir Zippang, otherwise known as 'Grabarc.' The man is a mortal, and in charge of all the operations of the facility. I assure you, this is not a trial. This man is guilty of enough crimes to merit what we do him this day five times over. We are hear to deliver justice swiftly, and without mercy. And we will not fail!"
He undoes his jacket swiftly, displaying a clear lining of explosives running up and down the sides.
"Our cover is that we're here to participate in a local Gladiator tournament held between immortals every year. They like seeing emotion in their fighters, so I trust that most of you brough custom clones instead of average stock bodies. Convince them that we're here to fight, and they won't bat an eye at you. When you have your chance, get into a strategic position and detonate your explosives. Captain Wulver, the man in charge of this ship, will see about having a sellection of your clone reserves moved to one of the lower storage levels of the station to reanimate back into. I want you all to cause as much chaos as possible, and burn Snowfall from the inside out. Hooah?"
He zips up his jacket and makes for the cargo hold, trying to forget that he's a walking bomb.
"Oh... And... Try not to get shot. The pirates out here like using Toxin modified weapons on immortals. If you don't know what that means, you're lucky. All I'm saying is, given the choice between suffering through the pain and setting off my bomb I'd pick the bomb any day of the week."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Atiim
12383
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Posted - 2014.09.22 02:47:00 -
[2] - Quote
((Nevermind))
The 1st Matari Commando
-HAND
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2443
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Posted - 2014.09.22 12:40:00 -
[3] - Quote
Vyzion felt a little grim about the tournament. It sounded like a needless brawl to him, but he shrugged. Something might turn up and he wouldn't have to subject himself to mindless fighting.
He shifts his weight from foot to foot as Galm speaks, feeling exposed in his civilian clothing: light green long sleeves was all that could be seen of the thermal overall he wore under a grey T-shirt and loose, baggy black pants ending in some tattered sneakers.
Vyzion also felt a little unnerved by the explosives that had been inserted into his body through what he would only think of as 'magic', because he feared the truth was probably too intrusive to consider. Simply thinking about it made goosebumps crawl over his arms.
He nodded as Galm finished his briefing. Fighting evil with evil. No purpose... except the ISK. Even I can't resist it. The pilot sighed as he envisaged the dropships he'd be flying after this mission.
I feel like a boy doing chores for pocket money.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
278
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Posted - 2014.09.22 13:26:00 -
[4] - Quote
As she heard Galm give out the briefing, Hya'salia nervously adjusted her vest which was the same as galm had housing the mysterious explosives, loosening up the straps a bit to give her some room. No sane person would ever think of doing something as crazy as this, but its obvious that whoever Galm was working with has been planning this to the most minute detail.
In case things happened, she dyed her inital clone 's light brown hair black, tying it down in a small ponytail. She preferred to keep her leisure clone back home, in the wildlands. After all, she had a unusual affinity for that body rather than what she did with the one she was now in.
After the transfer, she went for the nearest tattoo parlor she could find and had part of her arms and back covered in tattoos in varying themes and sizes. The most intricate of them all was the war tattoo she had on her face, resembling a brutor skull design.
The changes were so radical, one might not notice who she really was had she not introduced herself.
But as she heard the briefing more, even the changes made to this body wasn't enough to keep her from feeling nervous about the vest.
' they must be a rough mix of gelatin-based napalm in powder format along with a slow acting secondary charge, to spread the napalm around in the initial blast' she thought. She wasn't experienced with explosives, only enough to get by without blowing her arm off. But it was common sense, to create the most chaos, make sure the initial explosion can attract the biggest audience, and then set off the true diversion; since most of the immortals in the station are used to explosions and gunfire, they wont run out on the others, which will be an added bonus.
Or find some way to remove the vest and plant it somewhere in the station she thought, at least she wont be needing to send herself out into oblivion. Then again, the toxin weapons galm mentioned might cause her to reconsider
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steadyhand amarr
shadows of 514
3340
|
Posted - 2014.09.22 17:34:00 -
[5] - Quote
A few days before
Steady had managed to find himself a nice planet in middle of wormhole space to hide in while waiting for concord to relax about him escaping their custardy at the hands of mordu extraction team.
The few months of peace and quiet had allowed him to reflect on his life, oddly and unexpectedly his faith had become stronger and more concrete, the empire had its fault but it represented a stable core and light that allowed the other races flailing around in dark to fly towards it like moths to a flame. Sometimes they would get to close and burn themselves, sometimes they would attack, but the empire strong and stable allowed all to always see a true form of the faith...even if there are those within it who didnGÇÖt believe it themselves.
Steady museing was interrupted by his neocom suddenly springing to life, A Call from beyond a local wormhole?
GÇ£There are only 3 people in universe who know this signal and where to direct it. By that virtue IGÇÖm giving you 30 secondsGÇ¥ spoke steady in a flat business like tone while jotting down some notes
Target: Guristas
Location: Space station, Caldari
Objective: maximum damage
Payment: removal off concord wanted list.
GÇ£Please holdGÇ¥ spoke steady as he opened a second channel
A second voice crackles though
GÇ£David, this guy checks out, he went through hell to get hold of mordu for your number, what ever the mission is this guy wants him dead bad. Either way the volume of targets is high enough that we are 100% sure we can get concord off your back.GÇ¥
GÇ£Thank you, have my standard package arrangedGÇ¥ steady hung up the call and address his new contract
In a flat business tone he simply spoke GÇ£AcceptedGÇ¥ within moments the call was dropped and steady felt the old tug of mind being pulled into space.
#####################################################################################################
Present day
Steady was now occupying a blank clone, under the guise of attending a close combat tournament he had made the necessary modifications to. For all intense purposes he was a battle ready clone minus the dropsuit. Dressed in amarr persist robes that he had modified to display scriptures and battle hymns to onlookers in golden letters on outside, hiding its true purpose, to cover up for thickness of robes being down to it being lined in explosives.
ready with his little displace Steady took stock of his team.
Mixed race all combat ready, one medic, one thinker, one strategy, two combat focused, and his dear employer. Steady felt he likely had a personal stake in mission and possibly likely to become unstable and rash if mission goes south, must be the reason for the strategy guy. Good boss knows his own weakness . The others where all unknown to him not that he cared much as long as they did their job.
That left himself and Kador who soul goal he imagined was maximum noise maximum distraction for which both where famed fo....WAIT KADOR... steady suddenly lost focus on his mission assessment.
GÇ£well frack were going have to work quickly here he thought to himselfGÇ¥, what the hell was he doing on this kind of shadow run, either way it became very clear tohimself this mission was going to leave a lot of very very bad people, very dead, very quickly and he was going to get a big telling off from the only personal he felt safe enough to call his effective dad, they had run a number missions together and Kador was had personally saved his life before being forced to handing him over to concord. steady locked eyes with him long enough to get the message GÇ£what the hell are you doing hereGÇ¥ across before mission brief started.
Quote:"Oh... And... Try not to get shot. The pirates out here like using Toxin modified weapons on immortals. If you don't know what that means, you're lucky. All I'm saying is, given the choice between suffering through the pain and setting off my bomb I'd pick the bomb any day of the week."
Looking around steady watched the others steal themselves and shake off nerves or well try too, matching suit he decided as the most flamboyant of the party he should probably get off first and rose to his feet proceeding to walk towards the landing ramp. Turning to look towards to Galm
GÇ£I here it ticklesGÇ¥ he speaks with a half smile before dropping into his performance allowing a small vile of blood drop between his chest.
GÇ£by your leave, let us commit some righteous slaughterGÇ¥
You can never have to many chaples
-Templar True adamance
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Thal Vadam
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
25
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Posted - 2014.09.22 20:28:00 -
[6] - Quote
Thal looked out at the massive silhouette of the massive station they were approaching. Just by the sight of it, Thal could tell it was a wretched hulk full of the most vile, disgusting lowlifes in all of New Eden. He hated the fact he had to go into such a pit of filth, but his duty to his brother Templar allowed him to forge ahead.
As Galm begain his briefing, Thal couldn't help but wish he could participate in the arena matches. He longed to fight other warriors like himself in the martial arts, but now was not the time to dwell on wishes and desires. Now was the time to burn this palace of sin.
As they traveled, he examined the men and women around him. He had fought along side a few of them before, and he trusted them with his life. Galm however, he did not trust. Nor did he trust the other Amarrian aboard, the one wearing a vile of blood around his neck. He decided to keep an eye on them, but not let them interfere with the mission at hand.
He checked the explosives under his robes. All were primed and ready to detonate, which wasn't very reassuring to him. He hoped he would be able to place the bombs rather then use himself as one. While he was immortal, he liked his clones to last as long as possible.
He started humming the Classiarii Battle Hymn, prepping his mind and soul for the coming onslaught of sin. After a few moments, he sang the lyrics quietly to himself.
"From Ancient Athra the Empress commands Her Proud-sons.
From revered Blood-stock these Warriors are made Her Proud-sons.
No fear they know, Praetoria Classiarii, Her Proud-sons.
The Empire's foes, they defend against all, Her Proudn++-Sons.
Warrior's merit, Unbreakable spirit, Classiarii!
Supreme Defenders, Unchallenged in Battle, Classiarii!
Courage and honor, Empress and Sefrim, Classiarii!"
He shook his head, snapping out of his trance like state. He walked over to the door, his prized sword to his side, and prepared to disembark. He was ready.
"The Enemy has no idea of your true power. Let us show them! Thal to his men during the siege of Huola
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True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
13358
|
Posted - 2014.09.22 23:38:00 -
[7] - Quote
Kador shivered against the cold frame work of the Caldari vessel, a cut down Crow class Interceptor, despite the thick layering of his cloak.
The cloak itself was more choice the necessity he found during the long voyage throughout the Tenal region. There were a great many familiar faces, some he was not wholly comfortable around and was glad for the ambiguity the cloak provided. Surprisingly however few people questioned his presence though he did attach a few puzzled glances as neck were craned to catch a glimpse of his face through the drab, roughspun cowl.
Those who did not already know of his presence came away dissatisfied.
Those who did manage a glimpse under the hood would have seen the normally distinct Amarrian features Kador bore now hollowed and drawn, the typically sun bronzed skin having somewhat submitted in favour of a more ashen pallor.
In the days leading up to the mission he had chosen to fast, choosing only break on a half loaf of grainy bread and honeyed milk.
Nor had he slept his fill, choosing instead to seek the Summit Gymnasium during the early morning hours for solitude and peace. There was something to the cycles of callisthenic routines he had been taught, the stretches worked all of the bodies muscles exercising all forms of stress built up within them, while being strenuous enough to cause him to break out in a sweat.
As such dark rings had formed around his eyes, and the lines of his face had become more pronounced.
Moreover a thin layer of stubble had formed, unchecked, across his cheeks, while he hair lay dishevelled and tousled. Though he loathed to submit his leisure clone to such harsh methods of change it would be necessary.
He smiled, possessed of a grim humour.
There had been little enough to do in the hours leading up to this moment but refer to the small Nanpali primer he'd brought with him and take a quiet please from his deception. Perhaps it was because they knew him that the deception was successful, though it mattered not, they were not the test. Were it not for these distractions he would have brooded over the conversation that had led him to this place, and all the reasons he should not have been present.
"Damnable Caldari" he muttered under his breath, thinking of the red eyed half-breed.
He shivered again as a slight burst of cool air was expelled from one of the vents behind his seat. This seemed to happen often, often enough for him to suspect this was the doing of their "captain". He could have moved at any time to another seat, but he didn't want to give the mysterious capsuleer the satisfaction.
He ignored if instead focusing on the list of Nanpali terms he had set himself to memorise in order to pass the time, mouthing the unfamiliar sounds quietly to perfect their pronunciation.
"We were commanded to burn the system...We did. I mourn the loss of the innocents caught in our fires" -Kador Ouryon
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Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
51
|
Posted - 2014.09.22 23:53:00 -
[8] - Quote
Noah sat in the relatively cramped confines of the frigates hold. The frigate was relatively small to begin with and whoever had designed the ship seemed intent on shoving as much as they could inside. While he appreciated their minimalist approach to design he had personally always found Caldari designs to be lacking in passion. It made the ship feel cold and uninviting, although that feeling was lessened some by sharing the cramped confines with others.
As Fae was giving a brief mission run down Noah was seated on the floor, arms resting on bent knees, and seemed to be intently observing the clove cigarette burning between his fingers. A small cloud of sweet smelling smoke hung above his head it was accompanied by a faint crackling a few times every minute. He was battling with himself about taking this mission. Some of the others may have viewed it as ridding the universe of a den of criminals and thieves, GÇ£sinnersGÇ¥ as the Templars had called them. Noah was not so sure. In his past life, before he had become immortal, he had been a member of the Angel Cartel. A criminal organization that called stations like this one home, he had once called places like Snowfall home. While it may have been a criminal infested station not everyone there was a criminal. Noah was wrestling with the possible implications of their actions.
At the edge of his vision he could see the station from one of the small portals in the ship. His gaze moved from the ceiling to the quickly approaching metal behemoth. He let out an almost inaudible sigh.
GÇ£No turning back now,GÇ¥ he thought to himself.
It was a lie and he knew it. There was always a choice, always another option. He took one final drag from his dwindling cigarette before putting it out on the metal floor.
Placing his hands on his knees Noah pushed himself to his feet, his muscles groaned slightly in protest, they were stiff from his prolonged inactivity. He shook his legs out to try and get his blood flowing again. As he was loosening up the Templars were going through their rituals. A slight grin found its way to his lips.
GÇ£Welcome to Parakone (Paradise),GÇ¥ he said it with a slightly sarcastic tone. As he spoke he pulled the hood of his ragged sweater up. The right side of the hood was adorned with his insignia.
GÇ£There are no gods here, only devils.GÇ¥ He said it quietly as a warning, and a reminder. |
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
323
|
Posted - 2014.09.25 03:02:00 -
[9] - Quote
The ship gave a slight jolt, tossing each mercenary about through the narrow hallways. The crew members couldn't help but snicker at the immortals as the clung tightly to any equipment they could find as the frigate was towed into station by a powerful gravity well. Galm could hardly be bothered, glancing up only once from his book before relaxing and letting the ship slowly drift into the station hanger. He had by that point located a rather comfortable position between the CO2 scrubber and the osmosis machine and had no inclination of moving until absolutely necessary. The book in question was particularly colorful, the front page depicting a series of animated Achuran schoolgirls armed to the teeth in Caldari weaponry. The title itself was written in Caldari block, but any mercenary could make an accurate assumption about the exact plot of the novel. He sat there silently for several minutes before finally slamming it shut and tucking it away behind a random section of piping. He shot to his feet, storming down the hallway banging away on anything metal to catch everyone's attention.
"Alright everyone, we've touched down! Drop your cocks and grab your socks, we're Oscar Mike on this!"
He looks around frantically for a moment before finally making eye contact with Vyzion.
"Make yourself ready doctor. Seems your going to be extra busy on this deployment. Take a member of the fire team with you and find the clinic on the station. I'd hardly call it a hospital, it's mostly used for holding clone reserves for capsuleers and producing Crash out the back. You can spend some time on the station first, but I need you in that drug lab before the first bomb goes off. Whoever you take with you get them nice a beat up. Shoot him in the foot, put him through the games, I don't care. Just make a reason to take him to the clinic. They can pat the two of you down all you like but they're never going to find that bomb in your belly."
That might have been a lie. The bomb wasn't in his belly as much as it was through his entire torso. All things considered, it was probably best that he didn't know quite the extent of his explosives, nor the amount of damage it would actually cause until after he had detonated. Galm laughed silently to himself, setting down the haul as he motioned for the other soldiers to follow him.
After several minutes of snaking through tight corridors and passages they at last made their way to a freight elevator. With great care, every member of the team managed to fit into it at once as it lowered itself down into the cargo hold. The hold itself seemed in a constant state of controlled anarchy. There was something moving in every direction, at every speed, at any angle. Missiles were being wheeled across the deck, small drones set about stocking proper supplies for the crew, and a single CRU sat dead center, casting and imposing image on the mortals below in the dim blue service lights. Fae made a point of storming up to the nearest chief and snagging him by the collar, snapping him around with enough force to make him bite his own tongue. The sailor yelped in shock, wiping at mouth to check for blood as Galm began pointing frantically at the cargo doors.
"How long until those open sailor?" he barked, expecting a swift response.
"Sixth mikesth sthir," he relayed, his swollen tongue impeding his speech, "Custhoms agents should do a sweep of the area, but passengers are free to disembark as soon as those doors open. The captain's already out of pod and filling out some minor paperwork with control."
Good.
He turned back to the soldiers, directing their attention to the massive pair of sliding doors framing the south side of the ship.
"You heard the sailor, make yourselves ready. If you have any questions, ask them now before those doors open. I find walking onto Snowfall is a bit like a beach landing. It can get a bit chaotic."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2469
|
Posted - 2014.09.25 14:26:00 -
[10] - Quote
"Roger that."
Vyzion turned and looked around at the other squad members. He grinned.
"I think I have a partner." He nods at Junko. Then he walks over and mutters in her ear: "I'd rather not have one of those spooky Templars with me, at any rate."
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
284
|
Posted - 2014.09.25 17:15:00 -
[11] - Quote
Hya'salia felt the familiar pull of the gravity Tethers as the ship lurched, along with the banging of the metal and the secondary briefing from her employer, she felt right at home.
she had traveled to Tenal once, on a Courier Contract; Hauling a load of supplies and isotopes to keep a few capsuleer stations running. but as far as the reigon , she had no idea, she hadnt ventured to any of the stations at that time. she also heard rumors of the "Starsmith" according to a few Spiritual Caldari.
but once the ship was docked her game plan was set; head to the medical hub, prep the explosives, and then go in guns blazing, at least that was the gist of it when she heard an old friend, Vyzion speak, while looking at her directly.
Vyzion Eyri wrote:
"I think I have a partner." He nods at Junko. Then he walks over and mutters in her ear: "I'd rather not have one of those spooky Templars with me, at any rate."
She Nodded back as he started walking towards her. after a while he motioned for her to lend him her ear.
"I'd rather not have one of those spooky Templars with me, at any rate." hearing that made Hya'salia chuckle lighty, with her arms folded across her chest.
"ahh they must be questioning themselves, since technically this station is full of the things they loathe... and besides, i've always wanted to see an amarrian react to a place like this, aside from Issac" she said, as they made way towards the Ship's entrance. |
Thal Vadam
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
33
|
Posted - 2014.09.25 19:51:00 -
[12] - Quote
Thal makes his way over towards the still closed landing door. He wasn't nervous, but he wasn't excited ether. There was so much filth on the other side of those great metal plates, filth it was his job to purge. He walked over to a crewmen and tapped him on the shoulder. The crewman turned to him and Thal pulled out a large golden blade. He gave it to the crewman and said.
"Take this to the hold. keep it safe. Don't loose it."
The crewman was shaking in fear at the warrior before him but carried out his order. Thal walked quietly behind Junko and Vyzion and he heard Vyzion say something about Spooky Templars. Thal grinned and said to Vyzion
"BOO!"
He chuckled to himself and walked right up to the doors. He was ready to plunge head first into sin.
"The Enemy has no idea of your true power. Let us show them! Thal to his men during the siege of Huola
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True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
13378
|
Posted - 2014.09.26 03:53:00 -
[13] - Quote
(( Reserved Pending long and outrageously long exposition filled post that may or may not be contained within a single 6000 character limit))
"We were commanded to burn the system...We did. I mourn the loss of the innocents caught in our fires" -Kador Ouryon
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Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
56
|
Posted - 2014.09.27 17:18:00 -
[14] - Quote
As the ship was jostled about during the docking procedure Noah mumbled to himself, something about how unsafe ships were and how he prefered to have his feet on the ground. A previous experience had left him slightly paranoid about the integrity of the ships he was aboard. He could swear he could hear the metal hull of the ship groaning as it was docked with the station. A small wave of relief washed over the soldier as the ship finished its docking procedure.
Noah retrieved his bag from the cargo netting near the cargo ramp. From inside the bag he pulled out a crushed packet of cigarettes and a bottle filled with an unknown purplish liquid. He took a large sip, he had not realized how thirsty he was. For the majority of the trip he had been lost in thought, filtering through memories he had believed forgotten. Without really thinking he removed his vest and shoved it inside his bag, pushing it towards the bottom.
It had been a long time since he had been to a station such as Snowfall, a lifetime ago. Or in his case several hundred lifetimes ago. Although he was slightly anxious he kept his emotions in check. Unlike the Templars who probably loathed having to venture into such a place Noah relished the thought. There were no emperors or presidents or CEOGÇÖs to answer to. For the most part the only thing that spoke here was isk. It was the entire reason they were there, or at least the reason Noah had agreed to the mission. He was still struggling with the mission objective internally. Yes the man they were targeting was a despicable individual, but did the people of the station have to pay for his actions? To Noah there were other ways of dealing with a corrupt despot. Besides short of tearing the station apart there was always going to be someone to replace him.
Noah took in a deep breath of slightly stale recycled air.
Not that Noah had much room to speak, he had done worse things for less. Although he was anxious to get into the station proper a small part of him was nervous, almost afraid. He feared being recognized, something that should have been impossible. His clone, his current body, looked nothing like his original body. Then only thing that remained from his original body was the tattoo on his forearm, and that was common enough. When he had become immortal he had decided to start over, a clean slate. That was part of the reason his leisure clone looked so generic. His original body was on ice, although he had wanted to start over he could not bring himself to completely destroy his body, even though it was now just a frozen corpse. Noah had a habit of collecting trinkets or objects to commemorate or memorialize major events. Perhaps that was the reason he could not completely destroy his original body.
GÇ£No matter how far away you get, never forget where you came from.GÇ¥ His mother'sGÇÖ words echoed in his head. They were unusual words to be reminded of. His former life as an angel was a long ways away from where he came from. It also didnGÇÖt help that he hated hearing his mother'sGÇÖ voice.
The digits on his right hand started tapping against his thumb, like he was typing something, or counting. It was a fairly recent habit he had picked up. He started doing it when he was anxious and trying to sort through his thoughts, almost like he was trying to pull out a memory or thought out of the air. He needed the door to open quickly so that he could focus on the task at hand.
GÇ£Let me know if any of you are planning on throwing a fight, I could use the extra isk.GÇ¥
Noah planned to check out the tournament and place a few bets. It was more to get a better understanding of the station than a gambling addiction. Depending on how things went the other immortals in the tournament could pose a considerable problem. He wanted to figure out the most optimal course of action. Cripple the stations ability to respond to a threat as much as possible with his own bomb.
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Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
56
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Posted - 2014.09.27 17:18:00 -
[15] - Quote
As the ship was jostled about during the docking procedure Noah mumbled to himself, something about how unsafe ships were and how he prefered to have his feet on the ground. A previous experience had left him slightly paranoid about the integrity of the ships he was aboard. He could swear he could hear the metal hull of the ship groaning as it was docked with the station. A small wave of relief washed over the soldier as the ship finished its docking procedure.
Noah retrieved his bag from the cargo netting near the cargo ramp. From inside the bag he pulled out a crushed packet of cigarettes and a bottle filled with an unknown purplish liquid. He took a large sip, he had not realized how thirsty he was. For the majority of the trip he had been lost in thought, filtering through memories he had believed forgotten. Without really thinking he removed his vest and shoved it inside his bag, pushing it towards the bottom.
It had been a long time since he had been to a station such as Snowfall, a lifetime ago. Or in his case several hundred lifetimes ago. Although he was slightly anxious he kept his emotions in check. Unlike the Templars who probably loathed having to venture into such a place Noah relished the thought. There were no emperors or presidents or CEOGÇÖs to answer to. For the most part the only thing that spoke here was isk. It was the entire reason they were there, or at least the reason Noah had agreed to the mission. He was still struggling with the mission objective internally. Yes the man they were targeting was a despicable individual, but did the people of the station have to pay for his actions? To Noah there were other ways of dealing with a corrupt despot. Besides short of tearing the station apart there was always going to be someone to replace him.
Noah took in a deep breath of slightly stale recycled air.
Not that Noah had much room to speak, he had done worse things for less. Although he was anxious to get into the station proper a small part of him was nervous, almost afraid. He feared being recognized, something that should have been impossible. His clone, his current body, looked nothing like his original body. Then only thing that remained from his original body was the tattoo on his forearm, and that was common enough. When he had become immortal he had decided to start over, a clean slate. That was part of the reason his leisure clone looked so generic. His original body was on ice, although he had wanted to start over he could not bring himself to completely destroy his body, even though it was now just a frozen corpse. Noah had a habit of collecting trinkets or objects to commemorate or memorialize major events. Perhaps that was the reason he could not completely destroy his original body.
GÇ£No matter how far away you get, never forget where you came from.GÇ¥ His mother'sGÇÖ words echoed in his head. They were unusual words to be reminded of. His former life as an angel was a long ways away from where he came from. It also didnGÇÖt help that he hated hearing his mother'sGÇÖ voice.
The digits on his right hand started tapping against his thumb, like he was typing something, or counting. It was a fairly recent habit he had picked up. He started doing it when he was anxious and trying to sort through his thoughts, almost like he was trying to pull out a memory or thought out of the air. He needed the door to open quickly so that he could focus on the task at hand.
GÇ£Let me know if any of you are planning on throwing a fight, I could use the extra isk.GÇ¥
Noah planned to check out the tournament and place a few bets. It was more to get a better understanding of the station than a gambling addiction. Depending on how things went the other immortals in the tournament could pose a considerable problem. He wanted to figure out the most optimal course of action. Cripple the stations ability to respond to a threat as much as possible with his own bomb.
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steadyhand amarr
shadows of 514
3384
|
Posted - 2014.09.27 19:13:00 -
[16] - Quote
Steady glared out window next to landing door. In his lifetime he had done more landing than he cared to think about, however he could count this one as a first. Infiltrating an know hive of trouble in middle deadspace with a merry band of misfits but rather than go out guns blazing there will pretend to be taking part in tournament. And then go balls to walls crazy and blow everything up in site, he didnGÇÖt understand the fore play but this was not he op so it didnGÇÖt matter.
Steady has been to a number of tournaments even won the first of its kind. His name was sure to known so his appearance was not likely to cause much trouble other than upstarts with something to prove, counting his known reputation of being unstable to carry him around the station without much trouble his only worry was guards being on edge and being pusher than normal he decied to come up with a mental check list of places to cause trouble to both aid blending in and keep security forces busy.
GÇ£right IGÇÖm going have to check in at the Bar, and the local stripper joint once the big boys show up, then b-line to registration to make sure i keep the cover going, then get into another fight killing one of combats to get disqualified, and finally somehow get to admin to plug myself into the PA system and start spouting faith rubbish to keep the mercs off balance to whatGÇÖs goingGÇ¥
Simply enough steady thought to himself, GÇ£as long as no one out crazies me we should be ok and the odds of that are pretty low...oh i totally need to get 514 blasting out that should really screw with themGÇ¥ a low grone from the ship shakes steady from his day dreaming. The ship making final preps I better find a partner for the early stages for this madness.
Another one of the templar was playing with the nervous of team and had squared up to door alongside the others. Steady made sure his hood hid his face, couldn't risk a templar freaking out over old wanted posters, but made the point of voice carrying to Templar
GÇ£HI, names steady hand, donGÇÖt mind the get up its just for show, not sure what your plan is when we get down there, but we need to shake off the fact we are walking targets, fancy starting a bar fight nice distraction for the guys in the fight and we get to kill a few sinners on the way.GÇ¥
You can never have to many chaples
-Templar True adamance
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2472
|
Posted - 2014.09.28 12:59:00 -
[17] - Quote
Vyzion flashes a sheepish grin at Thal. "Actually, Templar Vadam, we may have to get chummy after all."
Vyzion takes a step back and forms a triangle with Junko and Thal, and addresses both.
"So here's my plan. Both of you get into this gladiator deathmatch thing and crush the other competitors until you're up against each other. The boss wants me in the drug labs and I have a way to get in there without arousing too much suspicion. Thal, you'll end up beating Junko -make it look real but please don't tear her arms off because that'll be too much work for me-, I'll appear as the arena medical team leader, take her to the clinic and we'll work together to get the the drug lab from there.
After that Thal, it's really up to you how you continue through the tournament. Personally though I don't want to get involved in the fighting at all. I have better things to do, and besides, getting punched in the stomach could accidentally set off the explosives in my body."
Vyzion shivers again as he waits for the bay doors to open. His thoughts drift to the station itself. Rev had told him about pirate stations, and the stories were far from comforting. Many think the outlaws, as their name suggests, live outside of law. But no society can be completely lawless. It came down to power. Because whilst the empires regulated their own powers through religion, corporations, democracy and tradition, there is no such regulation with the pirate factions. They let their power feed on itself, growing exponentially and consuming everything around them.
The medic-pilot only hoped he was not also consumed.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
326
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 05:10:00 -
[18] - Quote
True warriors always wore masks. Not to hide their identity mind you, but to become something greater than themselves. Masks hid our more human flaws cast them aside in favor of a much more fearsome disposition. There would be no emotion, no closure of identity. All that remained was the raw, unrestricted might of the soldier behind the facade. Standing there in cargo hull, it began to dawn on Galm that he had grown far too reliant on his helmet to mask the man that hid inside the armor. Flawed, human features began to bleed through without a dropsuit to hinder them. A large, unsettling grin slowly began to free itself from the corners of his lips before gaining complete control of his features. Even behind his flesh however, another set of emotions began to brew. Something... Far more complex. Something that had to be hidden behind the one mask he could never remove.
With a tremendous groan, the cargo doors began to pull away and reveal the station beyond. The frigate, wedged between a set of corroded scaffolding, had come to rest on a concrete loading bay adjacent to a massive customs office. Security teams ducked forward and back between multiple lines of passengers, occasionally pulling two or three men aside at a time as a slaver hound sniffed up and down their pant legs. The dogs, while certainly intimidating, weren't actually trained in anything of course. Instead the station security would simply let their mutt prod away at every possible orifice until the traveler developed the good sense to pay the patrol off. When that didn't work, the violence would start. The dogs would begin to get much more aggressive while promises of detainment and accusations of contraband were thrown about with reckless abandon. If the poor sailor failed to reciprocate after such a display, he or she would be escorted to an iron door on the far side of the nearest gate at gunpoint. What happened after that was any man's guess.
Steam rose from all manners of gutters and grates across the landing pad, the white plumes drifting far above the endless crowd and providing a starch contrast to the dim orange light of the low-temperature spotlights being projected from the main gate. The gate itself was concrete as well, covered in all matters of graffiti that had been encouraged by the Guristas as an art form. The tall fence was marked periodically with different access points leading to separate corridors of the station. Beyond each access point lay a series of more wire gates that would occasionally turn in on themselves and lead back into narrow corridors that would contain yet more guards waiting to be paid off, their bright green machine guns clearly brandished for anyone foolish enough to disrespect their authority. Only after pressing through this labyrinth would a pilgrim have their chance to lay eyes on the true wonders of Snowfall Station.
Not every mortal made it through. Most didn't. But those who knew how to play the system... The high rollers who could grease every palm from here to New Caldari, the easy kakku whores who knew exactly how to touch each bouncer along the way, and to the capsuleers who could so boldly evade the entire system while looking down on the mortals from their ivory tower... The lights beyond the gates would be blinding. Whatever you sought, a flashing neon light would guide you to exactly where you need to go. Attached to the tunnel system were buildings upon buildings all interconnected by winding stairways and poorly lit alleys leading to slums and bordellos alike. Casinos, clubs, bars, ballrooms, auctions, assemblies, and arenas were all out there somewhere among countless others who had all spent everything they had to even arrive at the edifice of such a sprawl.
And there stood Galm, for the first time in a long time, at the first step of the decent. Kador, the poor Udorian, had already run along to the shortest line. His enthusiasm, while admirable, may have been somewhat misplace. The 'fast lane' as occupants had come to call it, was known for having the most direct route into the station. The bribes to clear it, however, were simply astronomical and the guards had developed a reputation for being the least tolerant of those who could not immediately pay the fee. It was certainly nothing a mercenary couldn't afford, but Fae had the feeling Kador would be unaccustomed to the nuisances of kissing a pirate's ass. Figuring it would be poor form to allow the Templar to continue on Galm disembarked, quickly vanishing into the crowd. He pressed past as many wet-headed mundanes as possible, who easily fell to the side in fear of protesting and catching the guard's attention. He got as close to Ouryon as he could, waving frantically to catch his attention to apparently no avail. Perhaps he was overwhelmed by the scenery... Perhaps he was actively trying to ignore Fae. Both options seemed likely.
Fae's waving grew in intensity, his calls more jarring as he called for attention over the roar of heavy machinery in the hanger.
"GODS DAMN IT TEMPL!-- AHHHH!"
His sentence was cut comically short as he hollered in pain. Reacting immediately, Galm shook his leg as he looked down to see a slaver hound tugging powerfully on his cargo pants. Beside him stood a guard, his appearance far less professional than his title would imply. There was no uniform to speak of, only a dingy tan zip-up hoodie and a knitted scarf that dangled lazily from his shoulders.
"Sir..." he began condescendingly, tugging at the leash of the animal, "Y'pear to be causing a domestic disturbance. That warrants a fee on this side o' the wall, and proper identification."
"Cute," Galm spat, trying to shake the hound off as he passed the young man his passport, "Did your mom make you that scarf?"
"Sir, that's insulting an officer of the law, am I going to need to pull you a--"
He froze, staring at Galm's paperwork.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2474
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 10:18:00 -
[19] - Quote
Vyzion gulped as the Crow's bay opened, revealing to those inside that they were already inside the stomach of a much, much larger predator.
His eyes were met with cold grey steel and concrete that appeared slick and icy under the orange glow. His ears were instantly assaulted by the general cacophony of noise, pierced by the yelps of slaver hounds and, more horrific, desperate cries of people who could not find a way through what appeared to be a maze of an entrance, guarded by corrupt customs.
As a medic, Vyzion strongly believed in reading another being's pulse to assess its condition. He hated the readout his dropsuit gave him, preferring even in the middle of combat to kneel by an injured comrade, bare both his and their hands (within a protective repairhive bubble if the atmosphere was unsafe for bare skin) and find the pulse in the wrist. As he became more experienced, interaction as simple as eye contact revealed that pulse to him.
And after two years as a clone soldier witnessing countless deaths, his own or otherwise, and attempting to salvage life in innumerable situations, he had come to realise that anything that was alive, had a pulse.
And Snowfall was alive. The medic closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Augmented nostrils accepted the stench of human sweat and waste, salivating slaver hounds, oily hair, cheap synthetic perfumes barely hiding residual wafts of smoke from cheaper cigarettes, and underneath all of it the metallic tang of the station itself.
There it was. Faint, but perceptible: the station's pulse. Violent and inconsistent, but unceasing. A place where you could get lost as soon as you step off your ship if you did not have the will to resist being swept away by the tide of progress that only encroached and never receded.
Galm Fae wrote:Figuring it would be poor form to allow the Templar to continue on Galm disembarked
As he analysed the scene before him, the contractor leapt off of the Interceptor, following a hooded mercenary who slipped through the cargo doors as they had just cracked open.
Vyzion smiled weakly and spoke over his shoulder at Junko and Thal. "Anyway, if you didn't like that plan, it's all good. We can come up with something later; let us see if we can actually get into Snowfall first."
With that he hops down and lands crouched, slowing getting up and putting his hands in his pockets. A small sigh emitted a wisp of steam between his lips, and Vyzion watched as it curled up slowly and was absorbed instantly by a belch of steam from a nearby grate to join the hazy cloud above all their heads.
Here we go.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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steadyhand amarr
shadows of 514
3388
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 17:11:00 -
[20] - Quote
posting (t-mines 1 hour just proof reading)
You can never have to many chaples
-Templar True adamance
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steadyhand amarr
shadows of 514
3388
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 18:46:00 -
[21] - Quote
While the guard was Steady had slowly stated reaching down to the slaver hound his, countless years on the battlefield and his modded clone making him appear unnaturally fast, twisting and shifting his hands away from the hounds frantic attempts to bight him, before the guards hand finished speaking he already had the hound by its neck. Making a show all could see his used his cloneGÇÖs strength to pick it up and hold the dog outside of its limited claw range the animal panicking it did everything it could to try and break free but found it lost the strength to even raise it legs.
Steady never took his eyes away from the guard the whole time looking at him with his burning bronze eyes. An unnatural quite had formed allowing everyone to clearly here the animals neck slowly break the poor hound letting out a horrific sequel before it went limp. Steady dropped it to the ground as a lifeless lump.
GÇ£I think your pet is brokenGÇ¥ steadys voice growled
GÇ£holy ****....**** GET HIMGÇ¥
Within moments steady was sounded rounded by guards. He counted 10 in total, if these where clones he was in trouble but mortals where slow and stupid. As he slowly and swiftly took stock of the situation he saw other mercs on the railing and among the crowd paying attention to his little display perfectly he thought as expected the local talent only care about finding more talent.
GÇ£may the empress guiding light see you to heavenGÇ¥ spoke steady in a peaceful tone before shedding his robes leaving only his basic garments and his full clone on display, he could not risk a stray punch stetting of the bombs in the robe.
No sooner had he done so, than the guard in his blind spot rushed him. A smart move had it not been for his heavy boots impacting loudly on the ground below alerting steady to his rush. With countless years of training experience of a million battles steady dropped to the ground and spun his leg knocking the merc into air, recovering to his full height before the merc landed steady landed a crushing blow to his mid section. Steady noted the fool was not wherein any amour his ribs easily breaking under the blow as the force drove back into the crowd.
Recovering into a marshal stance steady noticed two more mercs had wasted no time and rushed him with batons drawn. Steadly calmly waited until they were in striking distance. One a single stride he stepped into the reach of the first guard grabbing his hand and twisting cause it break steady threw him behind using the gaurd natural built up speed to carry him onwards. With a swift sweep around the falling mans body steady landing a crashing blow into the seconds guard face breaking his jaw and shattering his teeth, grabbing the falling baton the poor fool had released to hold his broken face, steady spun round and used it to crashed down on the head of as a crying man was holding his broken hand. The brutality was not lost on the others as the shifted uncomfortably. Not looking to lose the initiative steady took two big strides into the next guard who at this point was now gripped in fear and locked in place. Steady picking up on this fact as he approached. Stopped just short of contact, and instead took the guards arm he had raised to protect itself and took hold of it. In two powerful blows broke the arm in-between the guardGÇÖs amour.
The Guard let out a howl as the room erupted into a wall of noise.
GÇ£today 4 sinners and have felt the empressGÇÖs wrathGÇ¥ steadys voice boomed across the cheers as he towered over the only guards not smart enough to move.
GÇ£oh ******* hell lads just shoot himGÇ¥ the final guard spoke in desperation
Steady not missing a beat snapped up the guard in front of him and lowered himself behind him the poor man taking the full force of 5 guns been empted into him. The battle high of the situation took over steady, the smell of rail rounds overpowering him the screams of people diving for cover and metallic smell of blood. Screaming he charged forward holding the lifeless guard as cover. The final guards in their panic fumbled there reloading; only one managed it in time to see body of his dead friend fly into his face. As the others looked up in horror their final images where steady taking hold of the bolt pistol thrown into the air and landing 3 perfect shots, hitting the mid section of each man. The results only a cloned merc could manage. Without looking steady fired the last round into the head of the fallen guard desperately trying to get out under the lifeless body.
The final original guard looked in fear his body and mind failing him as steady approached. The next few moments of his life where steady breaking each major bone in his body before finally lifting him up a broken mess and proclaiming
GÇ£I AM STEADYHAND_AMARR SEE WHAT AWAITS ALL THOSE THAT STAND IN MY WAYGÇ¥ bringing a exclamation mark to his point he brought the guard crashing down to his knee breaking his spine.
The room had dropped silent as steady restored his robes. Looking up he was suddenly faced with a merc in a dropsuit even steady new his limits and instead simply hoped the station management got the message.
GÇ£Can i help youGÇ¥ he spoke with a dry tone
You can never have to many chaples
-Templar True adamance
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Thal Vadam
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
34
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Posted - 2014.09.29 20:45:00 -
[22] - Quote
Thal nodded to Vyzion and Junko.
"I like the plan. Junko, meet me outside the arena entrance. We'll finalize the details there."
And with that, Thal disappeared into the swarms of people heading towards the checkpoint. The smell was overwhelming, and if he wasn't prepared, he would have passed out. It was the normal smell crime had. The worst humanity had ever produced was sitting on this one station. However, Thal felt strangely comfortable in the crowd. He could blend in easy with the countless refugees and merchants crowding the docks. Thankfully, he was relatively close to the entrance checkpoint. As he walked up, a massive Brutor man pushed Thal out of the way and took his spot in the line. Thal staggered back and frowned at the man
"Excuse me sir, I believe that is my spot"
"What are you going to do about it slaver scum?"
Before the Brutor could do anything, Thal grabbed his arm and threw him through the air a few feet. Thal wiped his hand on his cloak.
"I'm not a slaver, nor do I appreciate your racism. If you'll excuse me, I have a tournament to win."
The Brutor jumped up and charged at Thal
"HOW CAN YOU WIN IF YOUR DEAD!"
He threw a punch at Thal, but Thal sidestepped and buried his elbow into the beast of a man's stomach. The Brutor reeled back and fell to the floor, a mixture of blood and saliva drooling from his mouth.
"I don't know, you tell me"
Thal took his place back in the line as it was his turn to check in. A young Gallente woman was sitting at the sign in desk. She had her head buried in a pile of datapads.
"Hello sir welcome to Snowfall, please show me your papers."
Thal pulled out a datapad and passed it to her. As she looked up, she examined him all over, she then gave a smile and said
"Your pretty handsome for an Amarrian. Your papers check out, you need anything else?"
Thal shivered on the inside
"Yes, I'm not here. As in this meeting never took place."
Her smile didn't dip.
"That'll cost a bit more hun."
She winks at him. Thal shuddered. He knew Ahliya would kill him for this, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.
"Perhaps later, where should I meet you?"
"My apartment on level 4, room 143"
She clicked a button and the door opened. Thal ran through and melted into the crowd. He had no intention of meeting the woman at her place, almost felt sorry for her. Thal looked up and saw the arena, and he started his pace quickly to get there.
"Please be there Junko."
And with that, Thal vanished into the crowd.
"The Enemy has no idea of your true power. Let us show them! Thal to his men during the siege of Huola
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Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
327
|
Posted - 2014.09.29 22:36:00 -
[23] - Quote
Quote: He froze, staring at Galm's paperwork.
"W-- Wait a tick there. I need to get this authorized friend... Eh, that's gonna cost a fee as well."
The guard relaxed his stance, letting the slaver hound back away from Galm and come to rest at his feet. He pulls a small datapad out of his back pocket and begins in enter all matters of digits and symbols. Every few seconds the phone vibrates, indicate that whoever he was in contact with was responding rather rapidly. In those few awkward moments Fae could take a much closer look at the Gurista before him. He was young... Far too young to be in such a life. His face said he was no more than 19, though his rugged shadow and sunken eyes told a much more tragic story. It had grown commonplace in the shattered regions of New Eden to see a brighteyed teenage idealest voyage fearlessly into the stars to stake their claim and reach their dreams. Life, unfortunately, was rarely kind to such youth. There was no time for innocents or morality. You either learn to adapt or you died, simple as that. With each buzz the guard looked more and more concerned, eventually he looks up and opens his mouth to speak.
That was when the shooting happened. He didn't know exactly how it started, nor did it truly matter this far into hell. There were civilian screams and hollers as Guristas fell one after the next just behind Galm's position. By the time the madness ended, five mortals lay dead around Steadyhand. Fae wasn't entirely sure how to react. Months of planning, hours of briefing, days of anticipation all seemed to melt away around him as he made eye contact with the soldier. His breathing began to run ragged as he drifted backwards toward the Templar, not quite sure of what he was doing. There was a click of a round being chambered, then absolute silence. Fae spun around, looking back at the guard and his hound that he had just spoken with. The young man had his submachinegun shouldered, the Toxin weapon aimed perfectly at Galm and his cohort. He began to shake violently as a series of sobs forced their way up his throat.
"Pixy!" he barked, "Yeah, it's you, ain't it? I remember ya'! Had a month's salary stacked on you at the games last year when you walked off the station! Now you're getting in the way of this chickenshit Amarr after he k--"
The word came out incomplete, trailing off into another sob before be began again.
"Killed five of my friends! That guy there? The one he filled with lead? He had a gods damn family! The other one, he was gonna get married! Piece of **** thinks he can walk into our station and ju--"
"Let me handle it," Fae breathed, stepping forward just slightly.
"No, no, this is our job! Now move or I'll gun you down too hero!"
Fae held his ground, motioning for the boy to lower his weapon.
"This guy's with me," he began, "My soldier, my property. He's a good fighter, and Grabarcs gonna want to see him. But I'm not letting him walk away from this, alright? He's mine to damage."
He nodded slightly, letting his weapon drop to his hip as Galm made his way over to the first generation mercenary. He got as close as possible, his boots squared with the towering Amarr. Fae may have been good foot shorter than him, but that did nothing to stop his bravado. He eyed Steadyhand up and down, seething powerfully through a set of clenched teeth.
"Take the beating," Galm growled quietly, "Take the beating, and you can get out of this with full pay. Trust me."
He didn't wait for a response. Galm's first blow was absolutely savage, making full contact with David's temples as Fae used his head to ram him to the ground. He knew he could risk a body shot as long as his team members were wearing their vests, so the face was the only obvious choice for striking as he climbed atop the soldier and began to hammer his fists down one after the other. Synthetic blood began to leak, though he wasn't sure if it was from his own knuckles or David's eye. Still he pressed on, driving one blow after another into his orbital until he was worried he had permanently disfigured the Templar. He breathed for a moment, remembering that any damage to an immortal was temporary, then continue to strike downward without hesitation.
When he finished he rose from the soldier leaving him to bleed on the concrete floor as Galm shook out his bloody fists. The guard came running by, pulling him away to stop him from doing any further damage to himself.
"Alright! Alright!" he boomed, sounding far too excited, "That's the old Pixy I remember! Gods damn, you haven't lost your touch! The boss is going to want to see you personally!"
"Least I could do," Galm huffed, looking down at he crumpled soldier who was quickly trying to regain his footing, "The soldier was my responsibility. He's a first generate you see, not of sound mind. I wouldn't expect him to understand concepts like respect. But I was hoping Zippang could see his potential as a fighter."
"Well I think you've proved that much mate. Best let the man get cleaned up while you tend to old business. No use waiting through the blasted lines here. Got any other mates I should kno'ov?"
"Yeah... Two Templars, a Matari, and two Gallente."
"Well I'll see to it that they aren't bothered by the guards then. Least I could do for an old champion!"
He gives Galm a playful jab to the stomach, but pulls away quickly as soon as it makes contact. Galm stood there, unphased without even flinching as he shakes he hands out.
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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True Adamance
Praetoriani Classiarii Templares
Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris
13387
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 00:05:00 -
[24] - Quote
The line moved quickly, papers, pat down, bribe, papers, pat down, bribe.
It was simple, functioned like oiled clockwork.
Kador spent the five minutes in the line staring down at the back of the woman in front of him running through his story. She wore a leather jacket, dark, scarred leather, fabric fraying at the edges where time and use had worn away at its surface, a pair of loose fitting camouflaged khaki trousers resting low on the hips. He also noticed oddly that her midriff was exposed as if it was something she wanted people to look at.
He perished the thought, his understanding of these things were limited, for who would actually wish that kind of impropriety on themselves......and yet he was looking.
It's the role, he told himself firmly. Kaldrin would....no has to do this
It was a simple and, he hoped, believable story he had been told, something these people would love to play into. The whole notion sounded ridiculous to him but who was he to judge, he was playing as far out of home field as possible.
He noted Galm nearby in conversation with one of the security officers, a slaver tugging at his cargo pants, he notices a few of the others gathering brief glimpses of them through the crowd. He saw Steadyhand however, at the end of one of the lines surrounded by a half dozen security guardsmen, his voice booming.
Kador turned away, ignoring the scene, focusing on the check point ahead of him. Finally the queue melted away before him leaving him standing at the head of the line confronted with a grizzled looking security guard, balding, streaks of grey in his hair a bored look on his face, and another younger man with violet eyes sitting in a booth behind a dense steel mesh glaring out at him.
It was the security that approached him first, a single hand held out before him in the universal gesture to stop, other hand fingering the bodywork of his gun with an trained precision.
"Yer goin' te haf to remove the robes Jaijii." He stated calmly. "Can't haf no baka like you walkn' in ere whirout a check."
The man's dialect was rural, fragmented, Kador could barely make sense of it. He recognised the term for his robes Instead he simply nodded.
He raised his hands to release the cords that held the cloak tight around his neck, noting with a certain approval as the security officer neither flinched or took his eyes of the Amarrian hands as they moved about beneath the cloak. It dropped away with a muffled thump piling up on the floor about his ankles.
Beneath it he had been wearing a lavish outfit, the produce of some Amarrian designer he'd never heard of until recently. A velvety black doublet which cut a striking figure fanning out at the shoulders giving his upper torso a triangular look. A silver embroider ran about the neck and shoulders in the flowing pattern of glory vines, small leaves and dainty petals peeling off from the stems at irregular intervals. He also wore dark leather legging of a tougher material twin lines of silver running along the hems, and along the stitching.
With a clinical precision the guardsman went to work roughly patting him down, working the length of his arms, chest, and legs. Once he was satisfied the Amarrian had no concealed weapon he stepped back taking the cloak from the floor and throwing it over his shoulder.
"Clean" the Guardsman nodded, proffering a meaty palm. A moment later his eyes were bulging was as a 100 ISK chit dropped into his palm, he waved Kador on to the booth and started to take to the next on the queue with a renewed vigour.
As he approached the booth he drew forth the papers he had been provided with before they had arrived, unfurling them and readying them for presentation.
"Paper's Plea..... right" came a softer voice from within the booth snatching the papers from his extended hands. " Well Mr..... Kaldrin Oussariun what's you business at Shoashu Saasanko?"
"Oussurian. But uh...call me Kal" He corrected quickly, trying to project his voice through the thick mesh at the man beneath, lowering his head to the window. He sounded oddly confident, like he used to back before....... "Out to tour the Tenal Circuit, here to fight in the tournament , and win or loose looking for a good time a couple of girls...... you don't see much... well you know in the Empire."
The rustling of paper stopped briefly interrupted by a chuckle, the violet eyes flicked over the the security guard, who stopped mid way through patting a down one of the other "pilgrims". Custom's Officer addressed the Guardsman in some kind of language Kador could not understand but the pique at the end indicated a question.
The exchange was a quick backwards and forwards between the pair, Custom's agent chuckling mixed with a rough barking of a particularly long winded exposition on the part of the older man.
"More than free to go in Jaijii once you take care of the Custom's Fee's for the administration and registration.... I'm afraid you will have to step out of line to complete the forms....we cannot have you holding up other patrons you under stand."
The eyes flicked back to him and he thought he saw a flash of overly whitened teeth. With a sigh be drew his NeoCom to receive the registration data, and left the line to fill it in. He returned to Customs Officer a momment later., no doubt he'd be paying those bribes again however he attentions were drawn to a brutal scene. Galm set upon Steady with a brutal efficiency levelling blow after blow at the man's head leaving him a wreck, and stepping away with bloodstained fists.
"Well if Howe says you are worth the time of day then I guess you are. You just don't look the type y'know, took you for some ponce Amarr fop out of Mehkios or some **** y'know. That one there is a real fighter. I pity you kid you signed on to fight him."
"We were commanded to burn the system...We did. I mourn the loss of the innocents caught in our fires" -Kador Ouryon
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Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
58
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 00:27:00 -
[25] - Quote
As the doors opened another slight wave of relief washed over him. He had not expected to be so glad to be on a station.
Jester remained in the CrowGÇÖs cargo hold while he examined the small mass of humanity below. He watched as the guards went about shaking down the new arrivals and watched as the members of his team split up, going in different directions, trying to disappear within the crowd. He watched them get swept up in the crowd as they headed towards the gates. Noah had no intention of trying his luck with the unpredictable guards or the system. He had gone through enough pirate run facilities to know where to go. The soldier slung his bag over his shoulder.
Taking a quick, deep breath Jester descended down the cargo ramp. He moved not with the heavy and menacing steps of his immortal companions but with ones that were unusually light considering his size. Noah moved with grace and purpose as he entered into the crowd.
The immortal soldier moved swiftly through the crowd, using his right hand as a feeler, and gently nudging people out of his way. He managed to move through the crowd with minimal opposition, only a handful of colourful words were exchanged. Noah had managed to nearly make it to the checkpoint when everyone seemed to feel the need to start beating on the guards.
GÇ£Damn TemplarsGÇ¥ he spoke loud enough for those around him to hear, almost all of them nodded their heads in agreement.
He swooped towards the commotion, cutting through the gathering crowd. Noah watched on as Steady needlessly murdered five guards, and saw as Thal pointlessly murdered one of the new arrivals. As the man fell to his knees, blood coming out of his mouth Noah's left hand started to move towards his back. His arm moved quickly, but it slowly returned to his side holding nothing. The soldier had decided against drawing his bolt pistol. If it were up to him he would have put a dozen rounds through each of their heads without a second thought, but it wasnGÇÖt his call, he wasnGÇÖt running the show.
His face had contorted into one of surprise and disgust, matching those around him. He may have been immortal but he felt that life was worth more, and he had fully expected the Templars to have similar views. Or at least he believed they did. He did not agree with their religion but he at least respected it. The lack of respect and value for life the two Templars displayed had his respect for them waning. Not to mention that one of the Templars was supposed to be their damn medic.
GÇ£Have a little respect.GÇ¥ He hissed through gritted teeth.
Stations like Snowfall may have been filled with criminals but they were far from the barbarians the big four often painted them to be. They were rough and sometimes prone to violence but they were simply trying to survive. Places like Snowfall ran on respect, and unwritten laws, and at the moment they were effectively spitting on them. The people gathered here were not all violent sociopaths, they were simply desperate individuals fighting to survive.
Jester watched silently as Galm dealt with the issue. It was brutal but in this case necessary violence. The only positive outcome was that they had gained entrance into the station proper, and obtained an appointment with their main target.
Noah found himself standing near Fae as the situation calmed down. He had originally planned to explore the station, gathering intel on key locations to hit. His plans had changed considerably in the last few minutes, he could not pass up the opportunity to meet the primary target face to face.
GÇ£IGÇÖm going to the meeting with you.GÇ¥ His voice was soft, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard clearly.
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2477
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 01:52:00 -
[26] - Quote
Vyzion had not taken a step when Steady, as he had introduced himself on-board the interceptor, leapt into the fray and attracted the attention of numerous guards with his colourful garb. Like moths to a flame...
He continued to observe as Steady worked his way through them, dispatching lives with ruthless efficiency. Vyzion sighed. Most would have assumed he sighed for the lost lives. However he had long ago learned to put the past where it belonged: behind him. He sighed because he knew that he himself could have taken those lives with the same speed, brutality and precision.
Thal Vadam wrote:"I like the plan. Junko, meet me outside the arena entrance. We'll finalize the details there."
Another Templar left the safe bubble of their ship and dove into the seething mass before them. Thal also let the madness sway him and a Brutor, noticing Thal's Amarrian clothing also, paid the price for stirring the pot, as it were.
The medic didn't blame the Amarrians. Their faith and religion gave them immense strength and (funnily enough) an almost unholy fervour on the battlefield. When you fight alongside them on one side of a contract, mere phrases they mutter from the Scriptures seem to empower them with godlike attributes.
It also, however, blinded them partially to the complexities of the universe. Vyzion was unsurprised that Shoashu Saasanko's vitality would prove too much for their pure hearts to handle. How could they see these godless, dirty non-believers living a miserable subsistence without resorting to faith to save them, as humans? It was this same logic that allowed them to be so powerful on the battlefields. All that were opposed to their religion had to be converted or killed, and when you're immortal the best way to convert you was to kill you so many times you joined the other side.
They were simply doing what they were programmed to do by their own beliefs. Which meant that Vyzion could deduce there was a high chance that the hooded mercenary that ran off before anyone else was most likely Amarrian, with a little more constraint, attempting to pierce through customs before he let the duality of faith and reality tear his mind apart. Not to mention the hood was really a dead giveaway.
Religion, as Vyzion saw it, eliminated the grey. It was black and white, or in this case, GOLD and every other colour. He chuckles at that image as he walks slowly over to Steady as Fae defuses the situation with a vicious beating. When he finishes the Intaki-Civire starts to chat with the guard who had stopped him before. Fae points towards the Crow and identifies the rest of the squad already around the docks. The guard nods and jabs him before heading off.
He slices through the stinking, chattering throng with ease, slipping between the natural gaps that could be found in a crowd where pace was mismatched and personal space was enforced. He stepped out into the area where the five corpses lay strewn around Steady and Fae. He nods towards Galm.
Steady was already on his knees, trying to get up. The medic calmly pushed him onto his back, sat on his chest and planted both his feet on either of the Templar's forearms, pinning him down. He then unclipped the first aid kit from a compartment on his thigh and got to work.
Wash away blood, reveal extent of wounded area. Blink, exhale, analyze. Most severe first.
Fractured orbit. Eye appears intact. Remove skin and bone fragments. Bandage affected side of head.
Blows to the temple. Disorientation, possible headache. Administer weak painkillers.
Serious ruptures across the skin. Apply stitches, bandage.
Pre-empt bruising around cuts. Apply lilicae paste and ice pack.
His hands moved almost as fast as his thoughts, and when he was done Steady's face was nearly all covered. He sat on the Templar's chest for a while, arms on his own knees, as the crowds dissipated. They had apparently arrived at rush hour; most of the crowd had filtered through to the station proper, or else were rejected and/or dead. After a few minutes he got up and spoke at Steady.
"Recite the Scriptures in your head, then remove the bandaging."
The medic walked towards the entry gates. The guards seemed to just ignore him and he walked right on through. It seems Mr. Fae is quite the celebrity around here, he thought, a wry smile on his face.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
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Hunter Junko
Sebiestor Field Sappers
Minmatar Republic
286
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 02:48:00 -
[27] - Quote
Hya'salia ignored the carnage from the other templars as she went down the first round of checkpoints without much trouble, the words of vadam still fresh on her ears
Thal Vadam wrote:"I like the plan. Junko, meet me outside the arena entrance. We'll finalize the details there."
'arena entrance, huh' Junko thought as she approached the young gallentean woman, checking through datapads piled up around her.
"ah.... welcome to Snowfall, ma'am. please show me your papers" the gallentean woman stopped in the beginning , making sure to check Hya'salia out in good detail. it slightly alarmed Hya'salia, but she complied and gave her the nessecary papers.
"hmm.... everything checks out, but i still need to you to pay... alittle extra" the Woman replied, her voice tending to sound slightly Sultry and enticing to those around her.
' is she a lesbian?' Hyasaila thought as she tried to decline, raising her hands up in good measure.
"ahhh... no i dont go-"
"aww cmon dont be that way, just a little taste?" the young woman insisted, standing up to reveal to face her at eye-level. a few of the other's whistled and cheered for some action
'well.... give them a show i guess' Hya'salia said, with this she rested her hand on the girls face, and then said something that will haunt her for a good, long time.
"Wel... i guess i can give you a taste" She said as she pulled the girl close to her over the desk, and close to her lips. the crowd behind her roared in approval.
but she stopped just centimeters from her., leaving the girl shocked, rooted in her place as she let go, hopped over the railing and blended into the crowd below the checkpoint.
brushing off her clothes in habitual fashion, she then shuddered, shaking her head and slapping her cheeks, to semi-snap her out of it.
"damn, almost lost it there.... ok, arena, where is the arena.....here, just ahead actually." Hya'salia said as she decided to walk through the crowds of people to get to the registration offices. when she arrived, she checked her watch. 10 minutes have already passed. she took a seat at a set of benches and waited for Thal to arrive. every minute or so she either adjusted her ponytail, or shifted around in an uncomfortable fashion, the wait making her more fidgety by the second |
Galm Fae
Eskola Ergonomics
328
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 05:21:00 -
[28] - Quote
Clockwork Jester wrote:
Noah found himself standing near Fae as the situation calmed down. He had originally planned to explore the station, gathering intel on key locations to hit. His plans had changed considerably in the last few minutes, he could not pass up the opportunity to meet the primary target face to face.
GÇ£IGÇÖm going to the meeting with you.GÇ¥ His voice was soft, but he spoke loudly enough to be heard clearly.
Galm nodded silently, watching Vyzion tend to David from afar. He stood there, his chest rising and falling in the cold bite of the condensed station air as spotlights continued to trace their way back and forth across the mass crowd.
"That was only the start," he finally warns flatly, "Zippang isn't like you and I. He's a mad dog that needs to be put down, and until we do he'll keep chasing this thing over Steadyhand. I know what I did looks bad, but I managed to buy us some time."
He looks towards CJ, a small flicker of concern flashing across his face for the first time since departing on this mission.
"When the time comes, we'll have to make some tough choices about the Templars. But those will all just be a means to our endgame. Believe me when I tell you, whatever price we have to pay will be returned in blood."
He motions for CJ to follow him, passing through the front gate as the guard from before gives a halfhearted salute.
"Grabarc should be waiting for you in a club downtown called the Diamondback."
Fae scoffed, taken back slightly.
"Diamondback? What's wrong with The Silo?"
"That rickety old place? Too damn dangerous, Grabarc had it shut down! I guess a few too many dancers kept getting too doped to keep their balance and falling out of cages."
Fae hung his head, mourning the death of his favorite bar. That was where he had first met the mercenaries of Beta Max, and where he decided to leave Shoashu in the first place... Though, to be fair, that choice may have been after considering just how dangerous a place like the Silo was in the first place. The former missile tube had long since been hollowed out and turned into a nightclub that relied solely on the structural integrity of a few rickety steel gantries built by the Caldari decades ago as dancers shook their assets over an abysmal black pit lit only by an occasional glow stick dropped into the void below. All things considered, it was probably better off condemned. He pressed forward, wondering just what else had changed since YC115.
There was no need to stop for a credit check or register for the tournament. When Grabarc wanted something, everyone on the station knew it. More importantly, they knew not to keep it from him. Any distractions hereon out between the mercenaries and the pirate were an unforgivable sin to Snowfall's own personal god. The two continued along the corridors for some distance, twisting and weaving their way through segments that seemed to resemble an armed bunker more than a cosmopolitan station. Occasionally a transport tunnel or two would intersect their path, or a series of small hole-in-the-wall shops offering a series of offensive smelling ethnic food, but it certain wasn't the Snowfall that Galm remembered. Not yet anyway.
Just when the two began to deliberate on if they were lost or not they rounded a corner to find a clearly marked tram system that (according to the poorly drawn sign hung above the ticket office) promised to take passengers into the heart of downtown Shoashu. After considering every possible alternative the pair decided that public transportation system would be their best bet at traversing their way through labyrinth of network tunnels. This theory was discredited of course when the tram finally came around, literally grinding to a haul beside the platform in a symphony of metal screeching. The metro car was just barely kept in operating condition, the windows all shattered and cracked and temporarily replaced with cheap plastic bags with spray paint tags covering what must have been every square foot of the machine's surface. When the doors slid open it revealed the inside to be a tattered, if not surprisingly clean, husk of a transport cart filled with shredded leather seating running along its length. The two paused for a bit, then took the first step on board in unison as they offered prayer to their favorite deity.
Eventually, the train hummed to life, the magnetic lifts finally pushing the fragile tube down it's merry path. The cart was incredibly dark, illuminated only by a few sparsely placed safety lights to outlined the alley in case if an emergency. Even though the train was on a magnetic rail, Fae could have sworn they hit a pothole at least once along their journey as it tossed him around in his seat with several violent shutters. After seemingly an eternity trapped in the hot tritanium cart, crammed between two clearly unwashed shipyard workers, the monorail shrieked to a halt inside a much larger subway station. Stepping out, the air felt fresh and the sounds grew more invigorating. The deep groaning of large steel hulls was replaced with the distant hum of electronic bells and happy cheers. The metro itself seemed in far better shape than it's counterpart at the customs office, with great care clearly placed in choosing the perfect spot to hang various holographic advertisement displays for all manners of entertainment institutions. Just beyond the platform several different sets of escalators led in different directions, all moving topside to the sprawl above.
The two rushed to the steps, running up the moving staircase rather than letting it carry them. When they emerged, both needed to take a moment to absorb their surrounds. Gone were the gray concrete walls and claustrophobic tunnels and their place stood massive hives of shopping centers, drug dens, and other exotic emporiums.
"Okay," Galm ventured, "Keep an eye out any signs pointing towards the Diamondback."
Kirjuun! Uakan!
Teknikiara!
Kanpai kameitsamuu!
Ra ra ra!
> --Confirmed Badguy Cera YC116--
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Vyzion Eyri
The Southern Legion
Final Resolution.
2481
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 12:25:00 -
[29] - Quote
Vyzion considered his options walking along the narrow corridors. He never had true claustrophobia but he never enjoyed tight spaces. Which was why he firmly declined Rev's insistence to become a capsuleer with him; the capsules were suffocating, and the possibility of wetgraving... Vyzion grimaced.
To take his mind off things, he strolled into a shop that looked like something had torn a hole in the wall and dug a space with claws, then set up inside what was more or less a cave. The flickering light panels from the corridor were all that lit the place up. A wizened old lady sat behind a counter that also had an in-built hot plate. Something oily and brown was frying on it, and despite his fairly extensive culinary knowledge and augmented senses, Vyzion could not identify it.
"How much for a bit of that?" asked the medic curiously.
She did not reply, but instead took out a paper cone and shoveled the greasy mess into it with a spoon. Then she proffered it to Vyzion, still silent.
The medic stammered a thanks as he accepted the food. He rummaged around for some kredits and threw a wad of notes on the counter, surely three or four times what the gently steaming heap of brown stuff in his hands could be worth. He walked out, slightly perturbed; the old lady still had not said a word.
He looks down at the food as he walks. There was no discernable odour or smell at all. It looked like hunks of meat in the dim lighting of the shop, but up close they were small, sticky balls. He reached inside a-
A flash of red to his left made him flinch backwards. Something smashed into his stomach and smashed him against the wall, winding him. He wheezed as he got up, barely catching sight of a pair of thin ankles dash out of sight around a corner ahead.
"Hey, I paid good money for that!" He yelled as he ran after the thief, thinking: 8 years ago I was the one being chased for stealing...
He turned the corner. A dead-end. He looked down. There was the thief. A little girl, surely no older than nine, green eyes, a shock of red hair, spindly limbs, pale hair and a swollen stomach. She stood with eyes wide with fear, in stark contrast with her bulging cheeks and hand buried in the paper cone, grasping another handful of brown grub.
Vyzion relaxed and smiled. He drew breath to talk and was interrupted by a short, sharp, extremely powerful kick to his groin. He fell to his knees clasping his manhood yelling in pain, barely registering the small tap on the small of his back as the girl lightly used him to spring away.
He lay there for some time before getting up and brushing himself off, still holding his aching organ tenderly with one hand. Then he coughed a quiet chuckle. That girl had reminded him of himself all those years ago, and he couldn't muster the anger or even a desire to chase her down. He re-orientated himself and proceeded on.
> Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
|
Clockwork Jester
Namtar Elite
Gallente Federation
59
|
Posted - 2014.09.30 22:07:00 -
[30] - Quote
Galm Fae wrote:"That was only the start," he finally warns flatly, "Zippang isn't like you and I. He's a mad dog that needs to be put down, and until we do he'll keep chasing this thing over Steadyhand. I know what I did looks bad, but I managed to buy us some time."
The truth was that Jester had little problem with how Fae had handled things, although he probably would have handled the situation more violently. Blood was supposed to be answered with blood, although technically forcing Steady to fight was somewhat similar.
GÇ£Lets just hope our associates can stay out of trouble for awhile.GÇ¥
Although he was starting to doubt it was even possible for the Templars to stay out of trouble on a station like Snowfall.
Galm Fae wrote:Just when the two began to deliberate on if they were lost or not they rounded a corner to find a clearly marked tram system that (according to the poorly drawn sign hung above the ticket office) promised to take passengers into the heart of downtown Shoashu. After considering every possible alternative the pair decided that public transportation system would be their best bet at traversing their way through labyrinth of network tunnels. This theory was discredited of course when the tram finally came around, literally grinding to a haul beside the platform in a symphony of metal screeching. The metro car was just barely kept in operating condition, the windows all shattered and cracked and temporarily replaced with cheap plastic bags with spray paint tags covering what must have been every square foot of the machine's surface. When the doors slid open it revealed the inside to be a tattered, if not surprisingly clean, husk of a transport cart filled with shredded leather seating running along its length. The two paused for a bit, then took the first step on board in unison as they offered prayer to their favorite deity.
Much to his surprise the the car lacked the distinct and pungent smell of urine Noah usually associated with station trams. Although the state of the car did little to inspire hope. He had abandoned religion a long time ago, but he still found himself offering a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening.
For the entirety of the ride the only comforting thought that went through his head as they were jostled around was that if he did die it would be the first time he could attribute his death to a station car. Life was about finding joy in the little things, and being immortal required him to find some joy in everything.
As the car came to a rather sudden stop Noah wasted no time in exiting the car, although it was an experience it was one he was not overly eager to participate in again.
The two rushed to the steps, running up the moving staircase rather than letting it carry them. When they emerged, both needed to take a moment to absorb their surrounds. Gone were the gray concrete walls and claustrophobic tunnels and their place stood massive hives of shopping centers, drug dens, and other exotic emporiums.
At the top of the stairs Jester took a moment to look around. Masses of people scurrying about, moving from one area to the next, the sight reminded him of insects scurrying around their hive. It had been quite some time since he had last set foot on such a station, and even though time had moved on the inner workings of the station remained mostly the same, it was only the names that ever changed.
GÇ£This place sure has grown,GÇ¥ Noah muttered to himself.
Galm Fae wrote:"Okay," Galm ventured, "Keep an eye out any signs pointing towards the Diamondback."
GÇ£Would it kill them to offer a half decent map to this place. Or at least make a sign out of something other than neon.GÇ¥ When they had gotten beyond the gates Noah had downloaded the station maps. It was only a basic map, a basic overview and labels on the various districts. The public map was a few years old, and as a result it was completely useless in a station that had so much turnover. Noah had to resort to physically searching for the club.
It was fairly obvious that he was searching for something, and that brought about a considerable amount of unwanted attention from any half decent merchant, drug dealer, and con man. Tourists usually represented easy targets. He was approached by merchants offering the best deals on everything from clothing to arms. The dealers offered the highest quality crash, drop, and exile at the cheapest prices. Con men offered up risk free investments, or the opportunity to double your isk. Noah was able to shoo most of them off with a wave of his hand and a dismissive grunt, some of the more persistent vendors required him to be a little bit more forceful. It was one of the many aspects of life on a pirate station that he abhorred.
When it became apparent that they were not going to be able to pressure him into a purchase they quickly dispersed, looking for easier customers.
Finally given a moment of reprieve Noah was able to refocus his efforts and energy on finding the club. Or as the case was, staring at neon signs written in napanii. It took him awhile to translate the words. Although he was capable of speaking the language he usually resorted to using only a handful of words or phrases. The soldier had never actually formally learned to read the language, a fact he did not openly advertise. Given his implant he probably could have just plugged in the information but he had actively avoided taking the simple way out. He had tried a number of times to learn but there was always something more important quickly approaching.
After a few more moments of searching and translating he managed to find what they were looking for.
GÇ£Hey Fae, I think its this way,GÇ¥ Noah nodded his head down one of the alleys, the sign above stated it was the stations red light district. |
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