Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
The sun had just risen on the horizon, an orange band of light painting the sky and the spartanic approach to the the orbital elevator. On the tarmac and concrete ground before it, a small number of people had assembled - another two platoons of volunteers, stacked neatly in twelve ranks, which were three deep each. Before the platoon stood Major Graham Hershel of the First Landing City Defense Corps, on a small podium, flanked by a honor guard of 4 smartly dressed soldiers
"I greet you all, and thank you for the service to the colony you have entered into. It is a thing of honor in this time of need, and we all, at home, wish you all good luck and godspeed. We all hope for your safe return, and would have liked to stage a greater display of your departure, but with the enemy looming at the gates....Well, ladies and gentlemen, the Cabin has arrived, and itīs best to get going..."
The Officer was at a loss for words. Some might have expected a better sendoff, fanfare and ceremony. But not only the urgency of your deployment had eroded the pomp and glory off the first ceremonies, it was also the fact that this had been going on for weeks, one contingent every 15 hours.. And now, it was your time to go.
The wind howled over the open field, chilling in the cold morning air, ruffling your hair and coats. With a pneumatic hiss, the large doors of the lift cabin opened, and a signal blared. And then, in lockstep, the columns of recruits marched, into the belly of the beast......
Meanwhile, 40.000 kilometers above
The surroundings were, as usual, dimly lit. In the other bed, across the room, petty officer Warnke slept, like a stone. A strange wariness has comeover the station, like an oppressive fog. Everyone was expecting another attack, and no one knew when it would come. In an effort to remain rested and calm, there was still the normal shift plan in effect, with everybody going on with business as usual.
Only not quite. Paranoia was on the rise. Maybe there was reason to be glad to be in a two-man NCO-room - less chance for someone waking you through obsessive weapon cleaning, excercise, or other activity.
Two minutes later, in the cabin
The interior of the skylift cabin was sparsely furnished, not one of the passenger cabin ordinarily in use. Someone had attached four rows of seats with the normal 5-point seatbelts to the maglocks on the walls, and a small cabinet stuffed with beverages had been affixed in the middle of the room, but apart from that, nothing else in the grey polymer environment seemed made for human passengers. And indeed, shortly after you had boarded, technicians had loaded and strapped in a load of crates on the right wall. And now you were here.
Clarfication: Everyone except for Celine is on the cabin, alongside 61 others. (ASCII sketch below). Celine is in her bunk on the skyhook. Feel free to talk or explore.
Wiedhurst cleans her gun, helmet retracted into the space suit. It took a short while to get on again, even with lithe reflexes and training. Finishing up she gets up, walks to the door and enters the hallway.
The people arriving today would be here.
Smile and nod forwards, maintain an open posture, make light eyecontact.
Last edited by Moechi_Vill : 12-04-2007 at 11:06 AM.
A young man, dressed in a thick, bright yellow Armored Patrol uniform, looks around somewhat uncertainly. As he stepped into the cabin a moment ago, he had to move a bit to the left, to accommodate the heavy combat helmet that he held under his right arm.
Putting his helmet on, he straps himself in right beside the door.
And maybe if they were nice you would lean a bit extra forwards, time it well for your verbal acknowledgements to hit the right beat. Let the light catch the light in your soul at a sixty degree angle.
Maybe AP rounds would reflect off Beckett's eyes the same way. She was still hoping to meet him.
Last edited by Moechi_Vill : 12-03-2007 at 09:57 AM.
The young man sat patiently upon one of the benches, his personal rifle leaning placidly against his shoulder. With his dark, green eyes he calmly observed the storage cabin he and several dozen others now occupied.
At his side rested his medical bag, a constant companion since his days as a floater. Most of his remaining belongings were packed in his carry-on bag that had been shuffled somewhere when everyone had loaded into the ship. He'd have to remember to look through it later.
Several of the new recruits looked quite nervous, some seemed carefree, while others remained focused and ready. It reminded him of days long past, when he and his allies would prepare for combat against rival ships. He could only wonder how long he would last when the battle broke out. It had been several years since he had experienced any form of combat at this scale.
The people around showed a variety of different reactions. Some came here in groups of friends or comrades, audibly chatting with each other. Others sat their alone. Most were busy strapping themselves in, even though the ascent was scheduled with an acceleration of 3 meters per second. Signs, evenly spaced along the wall of the cabin and located in about 2 meters height, gently glowing in orange, advised people to sit down, and clock was running a short countdown. 208 seconds remaining....
Barely eight days after the beginning of the emergency training, youīre out for your first foray. A variety of people, many young people from First landing or itīs environs, but also dour faced people from the outer reaches and mining town. Standing out from the crowd, however, is an athletic woman, dressed in what looks to be a highly developed combat spacesuit, with long red hair tied in a knot behind her head, lloading and charging a, too most of you, exotic energy rifle of sorts.
She seems to be a floater, since that rifle is a floater Chem laser, even though she seems to be from another ship. Note the fact she does, in fact, wear a combat suit.
Your neighbour, a slight blond guy, who, despite his best efforts to look snappy, looks like an out-of-place accountant, turns around to yu, awkwardly beginning conversation:
"Hi....are you as nervous as I am? I forgot my travel pills, you know. And to think weīll be in here for 7 hours before we arrive......"
Meanwhile, on the Skyhook
The hallway is almost empty of people, and not too brightly lit. For two thirds of the crew here, it was considered night-cycle. About a hundred meters down the corridor, you can see the Bend, a sort of square at one of the six corners of this corridor, bending around the Hexagonal shape of the station. The food courts and commissaries, as well as batteries of elevators, were located there.
Down the other way were the lavatories and squad bays, rooms with 8 inhabitants each, almost all in use and crowded since the recent influx of recruits from the surface. Everyday, about a hundred new ones arrived, for what were now almost two weeks in a row. Command was fighting confusion and red tape, and new squads were assigned and platoons formed. Commanding officers barely knew their people, and you were supposed to have new ones arrive in a few hours....
A maintenance technician was moving along the corridor, towing a tool trolley behind him. His movements are awkward, with his pistol holster occasionally digging into his right leg. Another reminder that this, in fact, wasnīt business as usual.
As he looked about the room Jeff noticed the woman distributing rifles. Stirring from his repose, he began to take stock of the situation.
A female floater, in a combat suit? From what I was told most if not all floater women work with the engines. It's good to see some breaking away from those stale old traditions. I wonder if she used to work on one of the ships...
Now wasn't the time to let his mind be distracted by such thoughts. He had to focus on what was to come. He'd have time to think about what a fellow floater was doing here later. At least, he hoped he'd have time later. Shrugging his rifle over to his other shoulder, he allowed him self to relax a little. Becoming tense or nervous right before a possible battle wouldn't help anyone.
I'm gonna refrain from posting in the OC thread until Sucrose and Carusan get their character information up. That way everything can be on the first page.
Half of the people are, at this point, firmly strapped in, the belts holding them down. Others are still chatting, prancing around or goofing off. Meanwhile, the women in the spacesuit checks the readouts of her rifle, before, once again, deactivating it and stripping what looks to be the power cell.
Gradually, you hear a faint hiss as the door seals pressurize, and the countdown on the displays went into the final 20 digits.
"Maybe you shouldnīt..." Jermaine starts, "the lift is about to start. But thanks for the thought" Jermaine nervously muttered
"Hmmm....you might wanna go easy on that, you being armed and stuff" the technician said, moving along, his trolley behind him.
Then, suddenly, a noise distracts you, a commotion breaking out in one of the near squad bays - shouts and some sort of argument breaking out.
Carus had been in a bit of a daze. The past few weeks had gone by so fast, and now, here he was; ready to go up practically into orbit. All of his nerves had congealed into a ball of pure rottenness in the pit of his stomach, that only loomed larger as the countdown continued.
Closing his eyes, and breathing calmly and deeply, he slowly replaced the ball of nerves with a ball of steel, focusing his will on what needed to be done. No longer will he be known as 'the crippled miners son', he will forge his own name, and his own path.
Finally, as he just got his nerves in control, he opened his eyes, unbuckled his seatbelt, and wandered over to the beverage counter. Giving a nod and a half smile (that only partially concealed his recent attack of nerves) to the guy already there, he began browsing the list of available supplies.
Sorry bout the delay in my posting; Final Year project being time-consuming :P I will try to make at least one post a day though, or at least give warnings if I can't be around for a while...
Celine smiles back acknowledgement and veers off behind him, entering the squadbay.
"Attention!" she yells into the room, a few decibels over their voices.
"Does a conflict need to be resolved?" like a little officer telling grown men to be quiet. Her helmet quickly seals off her visage, a glimpse of straightish platinum hair with red streaks and winter blue eyes, leaving the infantry with a shaded visor to respond to.
Scanning the squad bay efficiently she takes in most of the picture.
I might not have access for a week or more, but it is probably ok. I'm in Australia and going north.
Last edited by Moechi_Vill : 12-04-2007 at 07:16 PM.
Jeff 20... 19... 18..., Jeff silently counted as the digits counted down. As the numbers descended his excitement rose, this would be his first time at the skyhook. First time in space for that matter.
Affirming that his maglock strap was securely fastened, he resumed his wait. His hands slightly shook nervously in anticipation. Seeing another floater had taken off some of the edge he had felt earlier. Not all members of the CG or UFL looked kindly upon floaters after all, which was understandable if one looked at the history of some of the ships, like Throne of the Void or Glory. Most people who recognized him as a floater would assume he was a theif, inbred, or worse. With so many people from different walks of life he knew that trouble was possible.
Lately things hadn't been bad. Joining the military had abated most of the usual presumptions and insults. Most people were too worried about the roiders to be concerned about a floater nowadays anyway.
Kioran, let me know if the above is off-base. I based it off some floater history from the recruitment thread.
Theif: First floaters stole colony ship.
Murderer: Glory ship that bombarded Gliven.
Inbred: Floater lack of a semblance to marriage.
As his seatbelt comes off with another fifteen seconds or so left, Alex stands up, and begins walking toward the beverage cube.
Picking out a proper drink just as the countdown comes to an end, Alex assumes Kimarse stance, lowering his center of gravity enough to avoid being knocked down as his weight is functionally increased by a third.
Gripping the edges of the seats to his left, he manages to get back to his seat in with long, low steps, and buckles himself in. Turning to his new friend, Alex smiles and says,
"I appreciate your concern, but it's only another third of a g, Jermaine. Now, will this help you, or shall I drink it myself?"
Suddenly, the cabin lurched into motion, the powerful magnetic rail holding it acclerating it almost as fast as car on the ground. The massive polymer cabin jumps forward. The acceleration suddenly presses you into your seats with some additonal weak, but noticable force. A group of people, who had been animatedly playing a game of sorts in one of the corners suddenly fell into disarray as the unexpected force made some of them stumble and fall.
Not a few grins or smiles could be seen at that, while others looked around with pale faces, while the unfortunate ones on the floor slowly got back to their feet. Still, the cabin sped up, climbing faster and faster. And then, windows appeared in the cabin - large parts of the opaque walls suddenly becoming transparent. Around you, you can see the vista streaking by, and the city below receeding into the distance. The displays on the wall now showed the speed - 453 km/h and climbing...
A few seats to your left, you can barely overhear the floater woman whisper: "....beatiful" and briefly see a short look of genuine wonder on her face before she lapses into normality again.
To your right, a young man with short, but unruly curly hair, having a dandy air, climb into the previously unoccupied seat on your other side, casting you an apologetic look as he straps in
"Oh thanks....." Jermaine begins to say, just seconds before the lift starts up, the sudden acceleration affecting your balance - or not?
OOC: Sure - make a TN(=Target Number) 10 Reflex Check to avoid stumbling. Easy
A small circle of people had formed around two soldiers who had been involved in a shouting match, only moments away from a fistfight. But suddenly, everyone turns to the door, the seven men at least assuming a semblance of a parade rest.....before they notice your weapon and opaque faceplate. Several pupils narrow to pinpricks, and you can see one off them starting to tremble slightly.
Recruits. Fresh from the surface by the looks of them, not disgruntled CG Conscripts, but surface dwellers totally unaccustomed to life on the station. A second or two pass before one of them, a somewhat shorter but muscular boy, about 5'9" and a provincial by the looks of him, finally speaks up:
"N..no. I think we have the situation under control....I hope.."
Also, thanks to Wayril for the nice Avatar!
Quite a few eyes turned to the young armored patrolman, while he calmly weathered the acceleration and poured a drink. Curiosity or admiration from some, emnity and envy from others. A moment later, the slight man he is offering the drink to took it, out of his hands. With that finished, the attention of the people began to wander again. They got up again, walking around the cabin in the steady acceleration, while others were looking at the cloudscape outside, the lift steadily approaching the speed of sound.
"Yeah....but itīs not like I didnīt do this before, and I donīt have that urge to show off. Well, plebes. What can one do?" your neighbour replied, casting another sidelong glance at the armored patrolman.
OOC: No problem. Finals are important. As long as I occassionaly see something I can work with....and that is the case here
"Thanks......that was impressive. But, you know, I think you made a rival. Remember that Robert Redden fellow, from second platoon? He thinks heīs the most awesome thing since the invention of the wheel, and doesnīt like ohter people stealing the show" Jermaine said, then starting to sip on the Ginger ale, only to continue: "Not that it matters to me. I think itīs great"
After you left the formerly quarreling recruits to their devices, you caught one last glance of them scurrying of to their bunks, suddenly silent. With the door closing behind you, steps took you down the corridor towards the Bend, towards the gathering places of both enlisted personnel and officers. It was still another hour before shift change, so there was no extraordinary activity, just the first of people heading over there for a meal or some last purchases.
The hallway widened, opening onto the balustrade off the bend. A round opening in the middle of the circular plaza formed at the bend looked down onto lower decks below and a few decks above, secured by a guardrail. And around the plaza, a group of shops, the food court, banks and the local mess hall beckoned..
The peace and calm was suddenly gone, pierced by a blaring siren, followed by the, to some, familiar voice of Admiral Caldwell, the chairman of the admirals council, calmly announcing:
"This Admiral Caldwell, speaking on the behalf of the Admirals council. Two minutes ago, engine flares have been detected in an approach to this planet, unanounced maneuvers by ships decelerating to meet the orbital Elevator Skyhook. Thee responsible party has failed to identify itself, and it is thus our contention that these are Floater Warhsips and transports. That means another attack is imminent. The estimated time of arrival is in less than five hours. As of now, night cycles across the station have been terminated, and reserve shifts 2 and 4 are called in for active duty.
Please remain calm. Civilians are advised to relocate to the the radiation and catastrophe shelters near the stations core. That is all for now, Caldwell out.
All around, worried or confused expressions cover the faces, while people hurry to finish their meals or purchases. Corridors previously only dimly illuminated balzed into full lighting.......it had begun.
The cabin rattled is at approached supersonic velocity, final shaking with the sonic boom. Visible streams of air and steam bloomed around the edges of the cabin, but before it was even possible to take in the scene, another female voice broke the silence, coming from speakers next to the velocity displays:
"Ladies and gentlemen, lift control here. There has been a change of plan. You have 12 minutes to provision or relieve yourself before we commence unscheduled heavy acceleration. During the following one-and-a-half hours, it is vital that you remain in your seats due to a significant risk of injury for non secured personell. Be aware that this for your own safety and out of genuine concern....
Another countdown appears in the displays, starting at 11:54, while all around, people exchange flustered looks or unstrap from their seats.....
As the announcement continues, Alexander's eyes grow wide.
"It seems that we're needed there sooner than expected," he murmers.
The cop pulls his portable telephone out from a small pouch in his suit pocket. He flips it open, then hesitates, and slowly puts it back in his suit.
They'll tell us what's going on when we get up there... no sense bothering them while they work.
Settling into his seat, Alex looks out the window.
"We might as well enjoy the view, right?" he says to nobody in particular.
Around you, more than a few people followed the invitation voiced by lift control, and started to rush towards the pantry console or the two toilet cabins mounted on the left side of it, near the crates. Others mumbled worriedly towards their neighbours, exchanging theories as to the reason for the suuden change of plan.
One woman had positioned herself near one of the beverage containers, and chucked containers towards whoever was asking for something, to speed up the process. Other were tucking in what little food they could manage, for the hours ahead. It was getting more than a little noisy in the cabin, and in between the shouts for drinks, food, and agitated discussions, civilzed conversation got a little more difficult.
And once again, the strange woman with the large energy rifle caught more than a few eyes, ferociously but methodically digging in, leaning against the crates.
"Excuse me" Jermaine said "but I have business to take care of." hurrying for one of the toilets, leaving you to your thoughts.
Everyone else pretty much leaves you to your own devices, but your own gut-feeling tells you that this is serious. Maybe the short clam before the storm....
The alarm was unhurried, much like dozens of drills before. The entire affair had an eerie, unreal quality to it, the people going about their business with unusual calm. Squads of infantrymen were lining up before the armories and marching in orderly ranks down the corridors, towards their possible destination. Emergency hatches opened, and Civil security officials in their shining skyblue uniforms began herding a gaggle of bystanders into the shelters in the stationīs substructure, which was little less than spars of solid steel poured at the age of founding, sufficient to withstand even cometary bombardment.
As of yet, no announcement had revealed anything specific about the threat, but many a soldier mulled over the matter, in a detached, almost clinical manner.
In the midst of this discipline, however, where lso the security teams. Unfortunately, they didnīt have half the training the denizens of the station possessed, and worse than that, some teams hadnīt even been properly formed, with their leaders awaiting scheduled recruits which hadnīt even ferried up from the ground....
A few of them also marched driving along by furious shouts, orders and a skein of authority. In other squad bays, there was nothing but chaos.....
Also, thanks to Wayril for the nice Avatar!
Jeff Somethings not right. I can feel it, thought Jeff.
Looking about the cabin, he was almost flabbergasted by the scramble about the room. Luckily, knowing it would be a long trip, he had already prepared for the ascent. Now all that was left was to watch and wait.
Taking a few moments, he spent some time observing those around him. Maybe finding out the cause of his unease would help.
"Awareness" - (1d10+11): Observe the actions and reactions of the man sitting beside me. Find out if there's anything peculiar about his actions. "Human Perception" - (1d10+9): Notice anything strange about the man beside me "Awareness" - (1d10+11): Observe the actions and reactions of the floater woman with the rifle. Find out if there's anything peculiar about her actions. "Human Perception" - (1d10+9): Notice anything peculiar about the floater woman actions or mannerisms. "General Awareness" - (1d10+11): Look about the room. Attempt to find anything out of place.
Extra rolls in the events of critical success or critical failure.
((Really sorry about my lack of participation so far; the start of the game just happened to coincide with a sudden increase in my workload at uni... If it helps, we could just think of Carus' lack of interaction as part of his shyness and/or social awkwardness :P))
Well... that can't be a good sign...
Almost immediately, the bundle of nerves that Carus had struggled to get under control re-reared its head. Closing his eyes, he started breathing slowly and deeply, fighting the waves of panic-driven nausea that rose from his stomach.
Slowly, he re-wrested control of himself away from his nerves, and returned to sipping at the beverage he had purchased earlier.
A sort of silence descended on the cabin as most people busied themselves with their basic needs, having little time for talk. Anyway, as much as that announcement had caused speculation, it was also a reminder that one was now part of an event larger than oneself, like a leaf caught in a storm.
Lift control remained silent as well, but on the walls, the seconds were ticking away....
- Physically, the guy does nothing extraordinary. Heīs busy with some sort of pocket computer - he does also carry a concealed Pistol
- Heīs not directly hostile, but thereīs something....shall we say depreciatory about his attitude to many people here
- She eats fast and businesslike, and in unusual quantities. She carries a concealed Knife. She definitely looks like soldier
- You have no idea what is up with her, but you do know something is odd
- The dynamics of the room are strange, almost as if some people know more than the rest. But thereīs little in the way of extraordinary or threatening moves.
I think that should have addressed the observations.
The bustle hadnīt yet abated, with people running through the corridors. A lietenant commander, dressed in the black-and-white uniform of fleet command personnel, a navigator by his insignia, seemed to be the officer on duty for this section of the station. He was busy giving orders to various people over his headset, constantly watching a data feed on an ocular over his right eye. His brow was beaded with perspiration, and he had removed his cap, revealing the short-cropped black hair beneath.
His orderly, a chief petty officer by the looks of her, was busy writing down demands and orders streaming at the makeshift command post. Her curly blond hair began to fall out of her hairclip, hanging down into her face, obscuring part of her face..
Around you, columns of soldiers marched, to the armories near the center, or the defensive perimeter on the rim....
The lieutenant commander in front of you looked at you with some irritation, his face flushed red: "I can see the f***ing chaos, but whereīs your team, Hand? Iīm too busy for this horseplay. Collect your baggage and get going.... he said, waving his hand dismissively
Celine takes her baggage.
"Sir, I meant to notify that the squadbays further down the corridor *points* are full of unformed teams" She hands over her ID card to the aide and adresses her. "Ma'am, would you notify me of the identities of my team, our launch designation and their current location?"
Last edited by Moechi_Vill : 12-12-2007 at 03:34 AM.