Active Plots (Alphabetical) - Updated 8/21/2010

Can't I Have Any Time? - (Eruantion Doriath [?], Amonost Doriath [?])

End of Solitude - (Verda Stelo [?])

No More Grape Soda - (Alex Dean [?], Samuel Jorgenson [?], Leon Mecheeto [?])

Questionable Means - (Tawny Black [?], Ishkan Ma'z)

Author	Comment
Alex Dean Cargo Hauler Dominion Master 4/7/2006 2:05:50 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 151	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Back at Jorgenson Ship Dealers, a woman in a black trenchcoat steps in looking menacing and holding a bloody katana. Carl goes for his gun, but realizes her left eye is swollen shut, right elbow is dislocated, and her clothes are bloody, cut, and ripped in multiple places. She soon collapses, sword clattering to the floor. Back to Dakru's situation, Sam successfully negotiates with the people of the camp and they obtain camping equipment for the night and a small meal. Early the next morning, maxed and relaxed, they continue on. Four and a half hours later, they arrive safely in a suburb of the largest city on Flistna: Yoakam. Sam looks unsettled. Sam: Belgium. Everybody looks at Sam as if deeply offended. Sam: This is Ledoux. It's a suburb of Yoakam... which is two thousand miles from Morganville. Everybody very slowly looks at the guy that operated the teleporter. Guy: ...What?! At least we're alive! Sam's cell phone rings. He answers. Sam: Yeah. Carl: Where the xylophone are you? Sam: Calm down. We're in Ledoux. There's a pause. Sam: Near Yoakam-- Carl: I know where Ledoux is. Another pause. Carl: WHAT THE XYLOPHONE ARE YOU DOING IN LEDOUX?! Sam: Some genius teleported us here. He glares at the teleporter operator, who looks indignant. Up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane, no! It's an explosion in orbit. Sam: We'll be home in a few days. Carl: I can't wait a few days. We're getting piled with work and... um... some lady came in. I think the doctor said-- Sam cracks up. Carl: Wait! It's not like that one time! She came in with a samurai sword and her eye hanging out and all her ribs snapped off. There's a long silence. Carl: Well, uh, okay, her eye was swollen shut and her arm was broken and she was all cut up... and there were like twelve dead guys out front. Sam: Oh, that's just great. Did you call the cops? Carl: Dave did. Gotta go. He hangs up. Sam: ...Okay... Sam puts his phone away. At Southcross Medical Center, the woman made up a plausible excuse for her injuries so she wouldn't be considered a criminal and cause herself a whole lot of trouble, and was released. Many people would likely consider them crazy for releasing a patient in her condition, but she's happy about it. Hospitals leave her far too vulnerable. She treks back to Jorgenson Ship Dealers to retrieve her sword. However, the place is closed off with "POLICE LINE - DO NOT CROSS" tape. She grumbles to herself and continues past the place. No telling where her sword is now. The police probably confiscated it.
Leon Mecheeto Ex-Soldier 5/16/2006 10:37:31 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 45	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Leon finds a telephone and dials a number. He waits a moment for the ring tone to cease. Leon: Hi, Mom. It's Leon. I'm just calling to tell you happy belated mother's day. Sorry I'm late. I didn't have access to a phone for a while. ... I'm fine. ... I love you too. Fate: Let me talk to her. Leon: Wait, Fate wants to talk to you. ... Yes, she's alive. Here she is... He hands the phone to Fate. Fate: Happy mother's day, Mom! ... Yeah, I did have some close calls. ... I'm fine. ... Okay, love you too. Good bye. She hangs up the phone.
Samuel Jorgenson Ship Mechanic Dominion Master 5/29/2006 11:41:45 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 88	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Out from behind them, a man dressed in shoddy old brown garbs comes out and grabs Alex on the shoulder. Alex turns and goes to punch the freaky d00d int he face, but the guy grabs Alex's hand. ??: Watch yourself. Alex: Who are you? ??: I overheard your conversation on the phone. Leon: ..You got a problem with my mom? ??: ..Uh, no. I meant him. The guy points to Sam. ??: I can tell you all need a ride back to Morganville. I can get you there. Sam: What's the catch. The man laughs. ??: I need a favor done. Sam: And that is? The man hands a piece of paper with an address on it to Alex. ??: Go there and get back my nav system chip for my ship. Alex: I'll ask again. Who are you? ??: The name's Keith. I used to be a supply ship pilot for the military. Afterwords I got myself into some..bad dealings. I landed in a slummy area once to..uh..do something. My ship was looted. Someone grabbed my nav system chip, and I managed to figure out that it was sold to this guy here. My ship is really old and outdated, it won't run without the chip. Alex turns to Sam. They whisper to eachother for a few moments. After about fifteen minutes, the entire group (minus the freaky guy) are in a beat down old van on the way home. Sam: Hitchhiking was a much better idea.
Leon Mecheeto Ex-Soldier 5/31/2006 12:43:02 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 45	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Leon: It would be very typical for the driver of this van to stop and mug us. Alex: Ahem. Leon. He snaps his fingers and points to the driver, a little old lady--maybe 83 years old--with no teeth. Leon's sober expression grows more sober. The van flies down the highway toward Morganville. Little Old Lady: So what are you sonnies and missy doing so far from home? Alex: Uh... Teleporter accident. Little Old Lady: Ah, dem dadgum teleporters--never go where you want 'em. HAH! That's why I got me this baby. She pats the outside of the driver side door. It moves significantly with each contact. Little Old Lady: AH. DABGUMMIT. Alex: What is it? Little Old Lady: Dem bandits. Alex: ... Bandits? Little Old Lady: Not dis time, chrome domes! She hits the accelerator. Everybody is forced to the back of the van. Outside, six bald bandits on motorcycles (two with side cars) and one in a dune buggy come screaming onto the highway, catching up to the van. Alex: They do this a lot? Little Old Lady: Dang near every time someone goes through here. Hang on! She hits a button crudely wired into the dashboard. It's labeled "nitro" with a backwards 'r'. The van accelerates certainly far more than it was ever intended. The speedometer is way past its maximum marking of "60". Parts of the chassis can be seen rattling around. Little Old Lady: HYEH HYEH! EAT MY DUST, BALDIES! She shakes her wrinkled fist out the window as they leave the bandits safely behind. Sam: Wow. Alex: That was exhilerating.
Alex Dean Cargo Hauler Dominion Master 6/13/2006 11:38:13 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 151	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Several days later, they arrive in Morganville relatively safely. There's a ticking noise in the engine. The old lady gets out and kicks the front grille and it stops. Alex: Thanks for the ride, lady. Little Old Lady: Yup, yup. Mm hm. She waddles back over the van and gets in. Alex: Want us to pay you for it? Little Old Lady: Whaat? Alex: I asked if you want us to pay you for it. Little Old Lady: Nope, nope! Heh heh! She shifts and screeches off into the distance. Alex stares and blinks a few times. Alex: Alright then... They enter the dealership. Outside, there are no police lines, no chalk outlines on the ground, or bodies. The place is pristine. Sam: Wow. I should leave more often when there are problems. They enter the main office and see a woman arguing with Dave--rather loudly. As they approach, they can make out the end of a sentence. Woman: --is perfectly legal! Dave: No it's not. I've never seen anybody do that. Woman: I've been doing it my entire life. Sam: What's going on here? Dave: She's trying to rip me off! Woman: No I'm not! Sam: What's she trying to do? Dave gestures down at the counter. Dave: She traded the places of her rook and king in the same turn. I swear you can't do that. Sam blinks. Sam: Okay, whatever. That's a legal move. Dave: Fine. Sam: But why are you playing chess with a customer? Dave: I'm... really not sure. Woman: He's making me beat him at chess before he'll give my sword back. Sam: Why does he have your sword? Dave: She came in here all beat up and dropped it. Sam: Why won't you just give it back? Dave: Because I like to screw with people. Sam: Fair enough. He proceeds to his office, apparently having overlooked that she's apparently the woman that ended up making Dave call the cops a few days ago. Dave: Hey Le--Uhh... Kurt. Carl could use a hand in the shop. Leon nod-grunts and heads out. Alex goes to Sam's office. Inside, Sam appears to be sound asleep on a large pillow on the floor. Alex makes a noise in his throat and turns around to leave. Sam grumbles. Sam: Whaaaaht? Alex: I wanted to talk about what happened the other day. Sam: I don't. He sits up. Alex: Yeah, well, what if the TCF comes after us? Sam: We'll figure that out when it happens. Alex: I'd rather not. I saw what looked like an explosion in the sky a little bit after we teleported. I think the ship exploded. What if they blame us? Sam: Or what if they blew it up themselves? Alex pauses. Alex: And how did Leon and Fate get... He turns and takes very long strides to the shop. Alex: Le--Kurt! ...Leon! How did you get one of those armbands to teleport up to the TCF ship? Leon: I knocked one of them out and took it. Now he's gone. Alex: Oh, great. Terrified out of his face, Alex simply goes to his ship and seals it up tight, including hyperspatial anti-insanity shields over all windows. He then checked every single nook and cranny of the ship for hiding TCF agents. He enters the cockpit, sits down, grabs the small screen off the control panel, reclines in the seat and begins looking at recent shipping requests. Crud nuggets. A request was put in two days ago for a rather large shipment of some highly perishable items; a well-paying job by cargo hauling standards. He fumbles for the phone. Boooooooooop. Boooooooooop. Boooooooooop. Boooooooooop. BoooooooooClick. A voice meets his ears that sounds like a man with throat cancer and most of his vocal chords missing was being choked. What Alex can make out is this: Voice: I'm not home right now, and my good-for-nothing wife left me, so she can't answer the phone. My kids are sissies and refuse t BEEP Alex can only assume this is an answering machine prompting him to leave a message. Alex: Hi, I'm Alex Dean calling about a shipment request you put out two days ago. 476 239 482 558 66. He hangs up. The phone rings. He picks up. Alex: Hello. A voice that sounds like a man with throat cancer and most of his vocal chords missing being choked meets his ears. Voice: Hi, Alex Dean? Alex: Yeah. Voice: Sorus McCrock. You called about my shipping request. Alex: Yep, just wanted to know if that request was still open. Sorus: Yep, everybody's useless. You got a refrigerated ship? Alex: Yessir. Frozen, refrigerated, heated, I can do it all. I can even store stuff in a vacuum. Sorus: Alright, good, good, and can you make it from Tecom to Menos by Monday? Alex: Monday on whose calendar? Sorus: Interstellar. Alex: So, pickup on Tecom in the Mircor system, drop off on Menos in the Charlu system? Sorus: That's right. Alex: It'll take me until late tomorrow to get there, but I can definitely get it done. They briefly discuss price and the job is agreed. Alex looks around for a moment, grabs a small piece of paper, and writes his phone number on it. He takes the paper, exits the ship, and heads for the main office. Alex: Hey, Dave. I picked up a job that'll probably have me away for a few days, so if you could tell Sam that and give him this paper, I'd really appreciate it. Dave: Yeah, okay. Dave is obviously not paying much attention. Alex: ...Thanks. He puts the piece of paper on the counter, watches the game of chess for a moment, and heads back to his ship, downloading a premade hyperspace map from Flistna to Tecom, and rips through reality to go really fast. After connecting the hyperdrive to an alarm clock to wake him up when he exits, he goes into the crew quarters and lies down. Around the same time, a woman at Jorgenson Ship Dealers stated "Checkmate." and Dave gave her her katana. Dave: I'll challenge the next guy to Starcraft. Woman: Unless he's Korean. Dave nods knowingly. Dave: In that case, I'll go with checkers. Back on Alex's ship, the alarm rings and stops abruptly. The ship lurches. Alex opens his eyes. All the lights are out. Alex: Mmrrrrghgh... That's not a good sign...? He grabs the flashlight sitting on a small shelf recessed in the wall and turns it on. At least he tries to, but it doesn't work. Alex: Nuts. A bad feeling begins to grow in his gut. He climbs out of his top bunk bed and feels his way into the cockpit. The stars visible billions of miles away make it at least easy to tell where the window is. He attemps a bunch of procedures to start the power, but everything's offline. Not having much experience with this ship yet, he wonders if maybe there's a ripcord to start the engine. He reaches over to the wall and tugs a cord, cracking a series of chemical glowsticks throughout the entire left side of the ship. Dim green light fills the cockpit. He reaches over and does the same on the right side. He always hated having to use the glowsticks, since there are about eighty in the ship and it isn't that cheap or easy to replace them. He turns and heads out to the cargo bay. As he manually opens the door (which he didn't remember ever closing), a feeling of extreme cold floods in and a sense of dread comes out of nowhere. In the middle of the cargo hold, he can barely make out a human-like form, completely black. Unnaturally black, as if sucking in the light around it. Unable to stop himself, two words escape his mouth in a whisper. Alex: Oh no. As much as a perfectly black silhouette can look at a person, it does. He feels it. Alex: Leave. The silhouette lifts off the floor slowly. Alex can still feel it. Suddenly, with a shriek, the silhouette wiggles, convulses, and flops eerily through the air toward a wall, disappearing through it. Moments later, warm air floods in from no where and the lights buzz, but don't come on. The engine sputters, sputters, and finally starts. The lights come on all the way. Alex: What the frag was that...? His heart beating nearly out of his chest, he heads back to the cockpit and checks his hyperspace route. He exited hyperspace almost an hour before he was supposed to. To be safe, he gives the hyperdrive a quick look to make sure it's still in working order (as far as he can tell, as he's certainly no mechanic) and enters hyperspace once again. The feeling of dread not quite gone, he opens up a crate in the small storage compartment under the cargo bay and proceeds to replace all of the glowsticks in the ship. He holds a brief rave in the process. An hour and a half later, Alex is ripped from hyperspace by... something... Alex: Not afrigginggain. The lights, however, are still on. He rushes to the cockpit and looks out just in time to nearly snap the flight stick off as he pulls back to dodge an enormous capital ship in front of him. About thirty seconds too late, a klaxon erupts alerting him that there was a hyperspace rip nearby. Alex: You're a little late, pal. As if it can hear him, the klaxon stops itself just at that moment. The chances of a vessel exiting hyperspace at the exact point (or close enough to it that it doesn't matter) of another hyperspace-faring vessel are 1 to 10^7,066,353,737, but Alex doesn't particularly care. He is, however, a bit irritated that he's been kicked out of hyperspace for the second time in four hours. He quickly resets his hyperspace course and hits the button. Absolutely nothing happens. He hits the button again. Alex: Oh, you are kidding. He heads into the back and digs through the floor to the hyperdrive. He presses a button on it. This particular hyperdrive has its own small self-contained computer for running diagnostics and junk without any extra equipment. The screen won't turn on. None of the lights even work. Alex: Oh my freak. They fried my hyperdrive. He heads into the cockpit and attemps to hail the ship. Alex: This is Alex Dean in the green cargo ship near you, can you read me? He sits back and waits. There's no answer. He shrugs and continues anyway. Alex: I got ripped out of hyperspace when you exited and I think the EMP fried my hyperdrive. Freak accident, but now I'm stranded. Is there any chance I could get a little assistance? He waits. And waits. There's no answer. Oddly, the capital ship has stopped moving. He talks to himself. Alex: I swear if they launch their fighters I'm going to KICK SOME HEAD. He waits. He taps his foot. He hits the press-to-talk button again. Alex: You know, it would take me about fifty years to get back to civilization if I even had those kinds of supplies. Could you help me out? There's still no answer. Now he's getting ticked. Alex: Hey, look, your hangar is wide open. I'm just gonna come inside. It's better than dying out here. No answer. No fighters launched. No railgun batteries pointed his way. No thermonuclear missiles sent to converge with his ship. He lands the ship inside, taking note of the force field over the hangar entrance to keep atmosphere in but allow free travel in and out. No worrying about closing the doors. Sweet. Not wanting to look like a threat, he switches out his hip holster for a shoulder holster, concealing it under his rather large jacket. Just before lowering the ramp, his paranoia kicks in. Perhaps everybody onboard is dead. Perhaps there are more of those freaking creatures. Perhaps everybody on the ship breathes methane and he would asphyxiate in their atmosphere. Perhaps exercising their mouths makes them dumber and they choose not to speak. Unable to make up his mind of what he wants to do, he turns around, then turns back around, then turns around, then turns back around, walks halfway to the cockpit, turns back around, walks back to the door, walks around in circles a few times, and finally goes back to the cockpit and checks his computer for text messages. Nothing. Alex: Blurglegurg. He enunciates. He tells the computer to test the atmosphere. Who cares if the ship can't do it? Do it anyway. Alex: Oh, slag you. He walks with a purpose to the rear of the ship, lowers the ramp, and takes a deeeeeeeep breath. He promptly raises the ramp again and exhales. He hyperventilates his own atmosphere, puts on a space suit, and exits the ship. He stands perfectly still and listens. That's more than just listening, he listens. No screams. No grotesque growls or gurgles. No roars. No slamming footsteps (or soft pitter-patter of little feet--hobbits scare the slag out of Alex.) He shrugs and proceeds out of the hangar.
Samuel Jorgenson Ship Mechanic Dominion Master 6/27/2006 11:44:23 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 88	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Meanwhile, Sam is sitting in big comfy office chair. He's leaning back with his legs up on the desk. About five minutes pass and a loud "thud" comes from Sam's office. Sam had dozed off, and fell out of his chair. He's now laying face-first on the floor sleeping. He wakes up a  bit groggy after banging his head on the floor. He rubs his head as he stands and checks the clock. Sam: Hmn. I would've expected Alex to call by now. Sam grabs a phone and dials Alex's ship. It rings and rings with no answer since Alex is in the middle of nowhere. Sam shrugs it off and wanders around the shop aimlessly.
Leon Mecheeto Ex-Soldier 6/28/2006 1:21:41 AM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 45	A Cargo Hauler, a Ship Dealer, Two Mercenaries, Two Fugitives, and a Bounty Hunter Walk Into a Bar Sam gets bored and returns to his office, picking up a book. Leon and Carl are in the garage attempting to replace one engine on an old short-range transport as Fate watches, mostly uninterested. She finally turns and exits the area just in time to see Valerie enter Sam's office. Sam looks up at Valerie from the book he's reading, 1,001 Ways to Reassemble a Light Transport Incorrectly. Sam: Can I help you? Valerie: You work for the TCF? Sam raises an eyebrow. Sam: Why would you think that? Valerie: You have one of their armbands. She points at the TCF armband sitting on the desk right in front of him. He soberly looks down at it and finally back up at Valerie. Sam: Why do you ask? Valerie: The people who blew up the TCF station that was orbitting this planet have a huge bounty on them. Sam's eyes grow large. He throws the book down on the desk and stands up, backing away from the black-clad woman standing before him. Sam: WHOA! We didn't do that! Valerie: I'm not referring to you. There is a party working with rogue agents in one of the Ellixan militaries. They were onboard the station. They destroyed it. Sam: Oh, wow. Who woulda thunk it? Valerie: They used you and your friend as a diversion, hoping the TCF would blame you. Sam: Eep. o_o How do you know all this? Valerie: I was briefed on it by Ninj4. Sam: One can only hope any evidence of our ever being on that station was destroyed along with it. So, who the heck are you? Valerie: I'm a bounty hunter. Sam: I mean your name. Valerie: Why do you ask? Sam: Because I hate not knowing the names of people who know all sorts of goodies about me. Valerie: I am Valerie Fas'nvak. Sam grabs a stack of small sheets of paper and a laser pen. Sam: How is that spelled? V-A-L--? Valerie exits the office. Sam tosses the pen down on the desk and slumps back in his chair. Sam: Ellixan military rogues, eh...? Hmm... He rubs his chin for several minutes, trying to piece together this overly-complicated puzzle that seems to have no point.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 6/29/2006 4:41:48 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Valerie has left the building. A whole sort of general mish-mash occurs. After killing a couple guys and ruining two others' slag (as well as scaring the fat off a rather hideous woman) she gets money and two pistols which she puts in her Bauer Bag. To elaborate (so as not to simply acquire money and arms randomly), she picked up a contract two weeks ago on Fierra Mesa in which she was to find a Mateo Malone and either kill him or bring him back to Fierra Mesa to be killed. The client, Michael Beerslayer, preferred the latter, as Mateo raped Mr. Beerslayer's wife four years ago and got out scott free. Valerie fully agreed that such justice was not too much to ask. It was agreed that she first be allowed to do a handful of non-lethal, but unspeakably violent things to Mateo before delivering him to Mr. Beerslayer. Fortunately, Mateo would be wishing he was dead by the time Valerie was done with him. She already knew he did business in Morganville and its three surrounding cities. All sort of shady dealings were his business, and information could likely be found in a generic smoky bar or night club--thus, that's where she went. Down in da projeks, she enters a bar simply called "Tony's." With a name like "Tony's®," it has to be shady.™ She sits down at the bar and peers around the building. A tall smelyak--a humanoid creature with oddly cow-like facial features, native to Sekra--bartender asks her what she'll have. He seems rather disgruntled when she doesn't order anything (largely due to her being the fifth bounty hunter coming in here and not ordering anything in the past hour) and moves on to the next patron, a shirtless valsar whose eyes are darting around nervously in direct contrast of the joyous grin on his face. Nobody wants to know what's going through a valsar's head--it's usually damaging, often physically. In one corner of the building, there's a slightly raised area with two pool tables. It's rather dark in this corner, lit by two shaded, dim incandescent bulbs directly above the two tables. How generically atmospheric. These seedy bars always remind her of six years ago, the first and last time she went to a bar for nothing but a drink and a few laughs. Socializing is a disaster. She fights a shudder, stands up, and heads over to the pool tables. Eight shady men are standing around doing nothing in particular, except a few of them who are quite literally shooting pool. Kyet (an alcoholic beverage ten times more intoxicating and painful than vizhgo, an alcoholic beverage fifteen times more intoxicating than tequila) in hand, they have so far, using their firearms, blown seven holes in the pool table. Laughing heartily, they fully intend to put at least fifty more in before the night is through. Two of the men take simultaneous sips of their beverages and immediately drop to the floor, writhing... but very carefully. Kyet, the most expensive beverage in the galaxy, cannot be wasted. As a matter of fact, if it were spilled, it would likely destroy the world it was spilled on, and occasionally a neighboring planet or two. These particular bottles of the concoction were, coincidentally, purchased by a man named Mateo Malone. Valerie didn't know this. A man wielding a twenty-shot revolver barely misses Valerie in his attempt to shoot pool. All of the men hoot and holler, including the two writhing men, who soon interrupt themselves with another sip of kyet and another bout of writhing and screaming in agony. One of the men shouts to the shooter that he "ALMOST GOT 'EM." Valerie backs off slowly and contemplates suicide. Shortly afterwards, she returns to the pool tables. Valerie: Say, do any of you know Mateo Malone? Man: Mateo? Crud, yeah! He bought us all this. He holds up his bottle. Valerie's interest is piqued. Valerie: Why'd he do that? Man: Umm... He rubs his chin. Man: I don't remember. Valerie: Do you know where I can find him? Man: Umm... He rubs his chin. Man: I don't remember. The interesting thing about kyet is that it works in stages. As you become drunk (which takes about three sips, but may be up to four if you happen to possess superhuman tolerance for alcohol) your mind will become severely clouded. However, by the eighth sip (this can take some time to accomplish) you will reach a point in which your cognitive functions are heightened, and they will be increased exponentially with each following sip. Of course, this also means the pain felt increases exponentially. By this time, one of the writhing men nearly drank himself into a coma, falling into a three day unconsciousness. The other writhing man happened to have drank himself into the second greatest intellect in the star system at that particular moment. Nobody took advantage of this; however, with his surprisingly clear thought, he answered every question regarding Mateo that Valerie could have asked--between screams of agony. Writhing Man: Mateo Malone, a six-foot, two-inch caucasian AAUNNGGGHRGH male with graying brown hair and a goatee, hired us to AUUGUHUAGGHH carry out a drug deal in Jynnan. It HUUAUGHLUAGH was a large deal, involving thirty pounds of EENNNGGHHRGH zorgoplotzene. We were never given the name AAOOROGRRRGH of the buyer, but I heard somebody refer to him as OOWOAGAGHNGH Daniel. When Mateo met us to give us the job details, NNGGHHHRRRGH we met in a small office on Fyerko Street. It was building 42. HRRGAGAGHRGH I don't know if the building belonged to him or if he HHRHRHGCHHGH does business there often. We were given these phones if we AAUURUGGHHGH needed to contact him for any reason. Would you like to take mine? Valerie: Yes, please. The man screams again. Writhing Man: You'll forgive me if I can't hand it to you. I'm a bit inca-- ARHNARHGGGGH --pacitated. He pulls the phone from his pocket and drops it on the floor. There's a gunshot. Valerie twitches and realizes it was one of the men taking a potshot at the pool table. She takes the phone from the man. Valerie: Thanks a lot. She nods and leaves. As soon as she's outside, she grips her forehead, overwhelmed by the immense stupidity oozing from every pore of the pub.
Alex Dean Cargo Hauler Dominion Master 7/13/2006 10:45:44 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 151	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar The interior of the ship in which Alex is currently standing is mostly a light grey steel, with many rounded corners and fairly well-lit with fluorescent lighting. It's pristine... and entirely silent, but somehow doesn't really give him the jibblies. There's a low whine and a thump resounds in the hall. A drum beat begins. "One... two... one... two... three..." A very strange, upbeat tune begins. A voice begins singing. "...so we keep waiting...waiting...waiting on the world to change..." Alex: What the nuggets? Despite being upbeat and not creepy in any way, the song, playing in the vast emptiness of this enormous ship, freaks him the heck out. Alex: Nyeeueguhehghghgh! He dashes back to his ship. No, for real, none of that ever happened. He smiles to himself at his absurd imagination and continues through the halls. There's a low whine and a thump resounds in the hall. A drum beat begins. "One... two... one... two... three..." A very strange, upbeat tune begins. A voice begins singing. "...so we keep waiting...waiting...waiting on the world to change..." Alex: AGHOGHRRHGOARRHGORHGH!! He bum rushes a nearby blast door. It opens automatically with a pleasant hum as he approaches and closes behind him, shutting out the song. Except it continues--live. John Mayer, Steve Jordan, and Pino Palladino are playing on a stage in the middle of the room. Alex's jaw drops. Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on who you are, it's in fact a highly sophisticated hyperspace window projecting light from a galaxy several million light years away. Alex discovers this upon reading a plaque mounted on the stage. How very intriguing. Perhaps he could borrow this hyperspace window generator indefinitely. I mean, nobody's using it. He goes hard at work ripping apart an auditorium stage in an attempt to steal--I mean... uhh... Well, yeah, steal--the hyperdrive inside it. Then something incredibly obvious hits him. It was a large, hovering, metallic sphere coming at him rather slowly. Alex: Ow. He looks at it. He blinks. He freaks out. Alex: IT'S THE TALL MAAAAAAAAAAN! He has already began running as fast as his tiny (well, not really) legs will take him. The steel sphere lets out a sad little sigh. Alex stops abruptly and turns around. The steel sphere followed him pathetically. It stops some fifteen feet away. Alex: Did you just let out a sad little sigh? It sighs again. It speaks in a tinny, female voice. Sphere: Hm, yes. There's a silence. Alex: ...Why? Sphere: Well, I was sitting there rather enjoying... umm... "John Mayer"... and his colleagues when you turned him off. Alex: ...Oh. He scratches his head. Alex: Sorry? Sphere: No, I'm not done yet. Alex: Oh- Sphere: For thirty-five years I've been stuck on this ship with nobody to talk to, only music, you know. Alex: Thirty-five years? Sphere: Mm-hmm. Yes, I've been in hyperspace for quite some time. I came from the rather distant Folgers galaxy. It pauses. Sphere: That's why I was in hyperspace for thirty-five years. Alex: Isn't Folgers a coffee? Sphere: Well, Folgers is a rather common name... There's another silence. Alex: Okay, that's what you were sighing about? Sphere: No. Silence. Alex: Then-- Sphere: I was trying to get your attention so I could talk to you. I forgot how until you screamed something about a tall man. Alex scratches his head. Alex: Yeeeeeeah... So, was there ever anybody on this ship? Sphere: Yes, twenty years ago. Ten years into our journey the entire crew got a rather severe case of cabin fever. Fifteen years in they had all killed themselves, so I jettisoned their corpses and cleaned everything up. Rather tidy, yes? Alex: Umm... yeah... I had noticed that. Sphere: I am quite proud of it. I've only had twenty years to make everything absolutely spotless. Alex: Err... about that. How could you clean anything-- Sphere: When I'm only a sphere? The sphere seems to turn inside out, revealing a plethora of horrible mechanical arms. The collection of brooms, circular saws, drills, claws, less-scary claws, ice picks, mops, firearms, a rubber ducky, and countless other devices is bone-chilling. Well, not really. It can best be described by Alex's statement after the ensuing silence. Alex: That's pretty sweet. Sphere: Yes, I like it. Alex: Say, with all that stuff, could you take that hyperdrive out of the stage and put it into my ship? Sphere: You mean the subspace bathroom generator? Alex blinks. Alex: Whatever it was that was showing those musicians on the stage. Sphere: Yes, the subspace bathroom generator. Yes, I can do that if you'll let me come with you. With all sincerity, Alex asks a question. Alex: Are you murderous? Sphere: Heavens, no. Just ask this-- One of its claws reaches into the body and pulls out a small, PDA-like device. Alex takes it. Sphere: --for proof. Alex: Is this metallic sphere thing murderous? PDA: No. Alex: Thanks. PDA: No problem. The sphere takes the PDA back and puts it inside again. Alex: Okay, you can come with me. Sphere: Oh yes! I rather got tired of this dull place anyway. It has no class. The sphere immediately turns around (which is difficult to notice, since it's almost perfectly smooth) and heads back to the auditorium stage. Alex follows because there's nothing better to do. Alex: Do you have a name? Sphere: Yes. dIAn44^9-#ggH!6, but that was randomly generated as a unique ID for internal operations. The crew always called me Diana. Call me what you like. Alex: Diana works. Diana begins work on extracting the Subspace Bathroom Generator/hyperdrive from the stage. Alex: Why do you call it a Subspace Bathroom Generator? Diana: Well, up until about seventy years ago, that's all anybody used it for. Why dirty up our own reality when we can go to a different one and leave our waste there? The name just stuck. Alex: And I see you also have the odd habit of calling a room with a toilet a bathroom, despite not bathing there. Diana: Indeed. I have removed the generator, could you go out the door the way you came and open the third door on the left, then bring me the dolly from there? Alex: Sure. He heads out and follows Diana's instructions. When he first opens the door, his eyes try to leap from his head and his brain screams to let it out, but the doorway fixes itself and leads into a normal-looking closet. Alex: ........WOW. What was that? He lets the brief bout of insanity slide. He sees a wooden frame with a rope attached to it leaning against a wall... but it doesn't have wheels. However, it looks like a ghetto SUV with neon under it. He grabs it and sets it on the floor curiously. It hovers. Alex: That's pretty cool, I guess. He drags it back to the auditorium. With some difficulty, they put the hyperdrive on the hovering dolly, take it back to the hangar (after finding a larger door that the drive can actually fit through,) and Diana gets to work hooking it up to Alex's ship. Diana: I think you ought to know that, despite what you saw in the auditorium, this craft cannot output the required amount of power to make this drive run at full capacity. It will stay cooler longer and be slightly faster than your old drive, but if you were expecting travelling galaxies in microseconds, you will be sorely disappointed. Alex: Oh well. The terrifying claws and power tools retract back into Diana's seamless body. Alex: Out of curiosity, why did you drop out of hyperspace here? Diana: It's a checkpoint. No particular reason for it, the captain set the computer to exit here and they would set new coordinates then. Alex: The entire crew is dead, so... You think I could take the ship? Diana: No. Alex: Why? Diana: Hm... I'm not sure. You just can't. However, our force fields are so advanced that the ship can be made perfectly safe. It could be a home, or a fortress, or what have you. You just can't move it. A broad smile grows on Alex's face. Alex: I like it. I'm moving in. Then Alex remembers he's still wearing a space suit. Alex: Oh... Yeah, can I breathe this atmosphere? Diana: I don't know, ask this. She (Diana will heretofore be referred to as "she", despite being genderless) pulls out the PDA-like device from before and hands it to Alex. Alex: Can I breathe this atmosphere? PDA: Yes. Alex: Thanks. PDA: No problem. Diana takes the PDA back and puts it away. Alex removes the space suit. Alex: Are you ready to explore the craziness that is my galaxy? Diana: Yes. Alex: AWAY! He takes off. Diana seals up the capital ship remotely with the PDA and Alex once again enters hyperspace, back on track for a simple shipment.
Valerie Fas'nvak Ex-tournament fighter/ ninja accountant Dominion Master 7/26/2006 5:53:05 PM Level: 1 Experience: 0 Total Posts: 126	RE: A Traveller, a Cargo Hauler, and a Ship Dealer Walk Into a Bar Valerie arrives at 42 Fyerko Street. The windows are covered haphazardly on the inside with brown paper; the door, however, is not. She peers inside and sees it's entirely empty. She shrugs a little bit and mutters to herself. Valerie: Ah, whatever. She pulls the door handle. It doesn't open. In a time of silence, she wonders to herself how an apparently very wealthy drug dealer could sink so low as to rape someone. Then again, he is a drug dealer... but no small-time street dealer... Perhaps he was drunk. Doesn't matter. She considers grabbing a nearby garbage bin/ashtray and tossing it through the door. She shakes the urge. She then looks under the doormat and on the door frame for a key. Nada. As she's looking around for a key, she sees movement. She stops dead and looks inside again. Nothing. She then barely catches a glimpse of a man moving quickly past a doorway inside. He was holding something... maybe a stack of papers. Might as well-- Before she can stop herself, she knocks Shave and a Haircut on the door and ducks below the windows. The sound of locks can be heard and a metal briefcase slides out the door. This is going to get her into a lot of trouble, but she jumps up and rams shoulder-first through the still-open door, knocking the person behind it over. She quickly grabs the briefcase outside the door, tosses it on the floor inside, and draws her sword, pointing the tip at the downed man's face. She opens the briefcase. Inside is a bag of clear liquid, a few papers, two keys on a key ring, and a gun concealed in a pocket--an HK P9S in 9mm, to be exact. She diverts her attention back to the man on the floor and takes the sword away from his face long enough to put the pistol in her Bauer Bag.

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