Gardener in the dark
Inactive Member
The Silver Forge was an ancient Gartagen spaceship, massive as a small planetoid and equally tough as most of its hull and interior were made of traditional Gartagen nano-crystalline bronze, a miraculous substance which required thousands of man-hours to produce in reasonable amounts and, as such, was no longer commonly used having been replaced by the cheaper, but less effective, foreign ADR coatings. When showered in light colors a majestic plethora of colors rippled across the surface as though it was coated in oil. Even when not brightly illuminated the surface was a warm and inviting golden-brown. Those parts of its hull that were not nano-crystalline bronze were Damascus Steel, and rippled with a slick and dangerous pattern of black and silver.
The shape of the hull was geometric: roughly football shaped, with a thick band around the middle that was on rollers and provided the crew with artificial gravity by lazily rotating around the circumference of the ship. On the front were the scoops and docking clamps, and on the back was the gigantic primary drive. The ship ran in the old way too, using a giant coil gun down it's length as part of it's thrust and docking with a frame far larger than it's self when it needed to go faster than light, then leaving the frame behind to explore the system.
She was a majestic ship, with many twelves of support craft designed to assist it, as she was also an ancient asteroid mining ship. She had been modified since then, outfitted with a CORE system, and released with her new purpose: Go the fuck away and bother someone else.
The people being piled onto her included both the smartest and the brightest, bound to explore new frontiers, and the worst and darkest, being driven from the gartagen empire to find a new home on this hulk, wandering the stars in endless exile.
Within the ship the halls were a twisted, confusing, paranoid mess snaked with wires, hidden doors to maintenance tubes and rapid transit paths, halls of varying width, and blast doors every 20-25 meters. There were no color codes here, nor signs, nor anything else a strange invader could use to orient themselves. Instead the walls were etched with rough patterns that could be read only by gartagens who knew the old tunnel-language... a dying skill in the modern day as it was a system of writing that consisted entirely of textures scratched into surfaces. The bare walls were equally colorful as the exterior ones.
The PCs (And some NPCs) would be lead along these paths from their docked shuttle. They were all part of Task Force C, and it was time for their briefing. They would be lead to a room full of sand, heat-lamps, and warmed rocks. Many of them would curl lizardlike around the rocks, and make themselves comfortable. (Post your characters now)
The shape of the hull was geometric: roughly football shaped, with a thick band around the middle that was on rollers and provided the crew with artificial gravity by lazily rotating around the circumference of the ship. On the front were the scoops and docking clamps, and on the back was the gigantic primary drive. The ship ran in the old way too, using a giant coil gun down it's length as part of it's thrust and docking with a frame far larger than it's self when it needed to go faster than light, then leaving the frame behind to explore the system.
She was a majestic ship, with many twelves of support craft designed to assist it, as she was also an ancient asteroid mining ship. She had been modified since then, outfitted with a CORE system, and released with her new purpose: Go the fuck away and bother someone else.
The people being piled onto her included both the smartest and the brightest, bound to explore new frontiers, and the worst and darkest, being driven from the gartagen empire to find a new home on this hulk, wandering the stars in endless exile.
Within the ship the halls were a twisted, confusing, paranoid mess snaked with wires, hidden doors to maintenance tubes and rapid transit paths, halls of varying width, and blast doors every 20-25 meters. There were no color codes here, nor signs, nor anything else a strange invader could use to orient themselves. Instead the walls were etched with rough patterns that could be read only by gartagens who knew the old tunnel-language... a dying skill in the modern day as it was a system of writing that consisted entirely of textures scratched into surfaces. The bare walls were equally colorful as the exterior ones.
The PCs (And some NPCs) would be lead along these paths from their docked shuttle. They were all part of Task Force C, and it was time for their briefing. They would be lead to a room full of sand, heat-lamps, and warmed rocks. Many of them would curl lizardlike around the rocks, and make themselves comfortable. (Post your characters now)
