Charmaylarg Dufrain
🎖️ Game Master
- RP Date
- YE:45
- RP Location
- Svodog
At the Svodog orbital LaGrange point L15 the Feast of the stars was a luxury starliner by the standards of a decade prior as it lumbered along the fringes of the Svodog system at the snail's pace that even one of its modern counterparts with engine damage and a faulty power system could outpace in even the worst of conditions as it drifted to a slow halt at the L15.
Little more than a glorified bulk-transport the Feast had neither the engines nor power to make atmospheric entrance to the distant white gem on the horizon but was instead an orbital liner that traded the powerplant and engine requirements to make and leave atmo for instead larger passenger and cargo holds and singular large shuttle-bay for endurance travel making it a cheap if lengthy transit option for travel amongst the Kikyo Sector.
The trip had taken the better part of three days at a near crawl and subjected its passengers to near imprisonment in their small quarters with little enough amenities to stave off the boredom or claustrophobia to the point that when crew members banged on their doors and offered to guide them to the shuttle bay without offering to help with luggage and even having the audacity to demand a tip it was almost worth it just to stretch the legs, treads, and wings in the instance of a spacer and elysian present.
Without leaving their quarters it was the first time any of them saw any of the other passengers if at a distance as each and every man was guided onto a large open hall where the still sealed line of doors to the megashuttle blocked further transit.
At first, it was Carina Sanroma. Wearing the new skull and sawbones of the NYRDs and SAW she had been indoctrinated into as the profession of a military medic she had once known was turned upside down and her new training taken over by an overtly powerful if a suspiciously optimistic and generous political group that had attempted to fill her head with not only the latest of Nepleslian medical knowledge and practices but also low-key a lot of outright political takes that leaned heavily into some xenophobic and nationalist practices against anything deemed Non-Nepleslian. Her natural suspicions had let little of it stick but the end result was that she was now twice the medic (in practice) she was before with a strange weight of authority to her to the point that the several sealed crates of MEC-H cylinders being loaded onto the shuttle were now her sole responsibility while a slightly more important one; An officer of some kind she knew nothing more, was carried on her person in an annoyingly heavy sling-bag that would never seem to stay in the right position and shifted constantly. There was a cloning facility planetside and it was now her responsibility to deliver the latest batch of heroes to revive.
After her was Quilly Ash, the elysian finally given enough room to stretch her painfully cramped wings after almost three days of confinement. It was impossible for the two to miss each other being the only ones present and before they could so much as process to greet one another others came filing out.
Lupin Kennedy, and the Freespacer Molotra. The former was lean, tanned, and in good shape considering the last time they had seen him, and for the two girls it was both a slight relief and perhaps in the back of the mind possibly even a disappointment that he was not naked in nothing but a pair of womens panties. The latter wearing the reluctant beret of the NSMC having been so much as drafted after her place on her mothership was long since considered abandoned but was also strangely free if independent and while not yet fully faded the lingering touch of a stargod had turned to a lingering sense of inspiration towards concepts she had never felt qualified or thought of before.
Next came Tobius Carrick. While he had been known to be a member of the IPG to some when they first met him in the garden of thorns he now wore the uniform of an NSMC noncom with a matching Corporal rank. The group had been strangely silent since Ukk towards him without so much as a debriefing; He had been watched, that much was for sure. But was never approached, taken, or even interviewed on what was sure to be a considerable scandal he had been involved in. Instead, he was still trying to figure out if he had been disavowed or discharged from the group and should be expecting a kill squad or detainment team from the Wardens when he received orders at his temporary billet for his old serial number in the NSMC before he had been recruited by Deuce. He was a corporal now, and for all his investigations his file simply had a lot of blank-spots added to it over the past several years and the indication that digging too deeply into it would not be a wise idea without considerable backing or protection.
Filling out the survivors of several years of trauma was a stark reminder of how many they had started with and all that had been sacrificed to that point just for less than a tenth of the crew of the Small Death was still alive and all in the same place.
At least most of them. Minnie Valentine was out there somewhere to the surprise of them all after seeing her and the others near-pasted on the kuvexian Cruiser. The veteran NonCom was more of a hero than ever and was now some kind of figurehead political figure for the group Carina now belonged to. She looked almost nothing like the last time they had seen her, a full-body cyborg being the clear toll she had paid and was even now considered the sole survivor of their expedition. Having known her briefly before her augmentations the new Valentine looked cold and stoic on the video feeds about her.
Clearly, nobody had told her, or the rest of the sector, that there were five more survivors sitting in one spot at that very moment that also deserved royalties and franchising rights!
Regardless it had been Four Years since then. Four long years of their friends, comrades, and loved ones all thinking them dead and having grieved and moved on. For those of them with family their interactions or even if they had revealed their survival to them was their own.
But then. Then there were the other survivors of their latest encounter.
Clayton Tillery, tall and imposing. The grenade-happy fanatic that had shot first in the warehouse and been partly responsible for Lupin catching a round.
Vaishnavi Pai, the even taller gunner from the same team of Locusts goons.
Caffran Canterberry, the now Sergeant and the first to test the waters of getting shot before passing the honor onto Lupin with the same round after the latter had disarmed him, his camo cloak stowed away in his pack for convience.
And then there was Francis Euphoria. Who came in from a separate door like all the rest and was wearing no longer the coat of an old star-empire commissar but instead a PFC rank and beret. And whose eyes widened in recognition at all the familiar faces. "Gosh!" Francis cut in the tension, her voice echoing in the round boarding hall with a cringe-inducing date statement, "I see the bureaucratic process hasn't changed over the decades."
When nobody else entered the hub and the doors to the shuttle had yet to open there was a strange mix of emotions and thought processes brewing between two separate but now reunited groups. They all had the same orders:
Move to Svodog system capital; Stenkagorad, NSMC 309th billet - Stenkagorad Starport at the earliest convenience. Transit and accommodations are made ahead of time on your behalf. Report to commanding officer; LT. Devone for following orders - Staff Office of General Apollodorus Wiegand, Commanding general NSMC 309th
"Gosh!" Francis cut in the tension, her voice echoing in the round boarding hall with a cringe-inducing date statement, "I see the bureaucratic process hasn't changed over the decades." It seemed that conspiracy or not it would always remain easier to just select groups of idle marines and throw them together and ship them out when they all technically, except for Francis, belonged once or were recruited into the 309th.
"Anyone knows what a Whooper is?" She asked, pulling a rolling suitcase up to stand beside Caffran and surprising all of them who at least had a brief taste of her bipolar misandry did not fly into a fit or rage by a males mere presence near her.
Little more than a glorified bulk-transport the Feast had neither the engines nor power to make atmospheric entrance to the distant white gem on the horizon but was instead an orbital liner that traded the powerplant and engine requirements to make and leave atmo for instead larger passenger and cargo holds and singular large shuttle-bay for endurance travel making it a cheap if lengthy transit option for travel amongst the Kikyo Sector.
The trip had taken the better part of three days at a near crawl and subjected its passengers to near imprisonment in their small quarters with little enough amenities to stave off the boredom or claustrophobia to the point that when crew members banged on their doors and offered to guide them to the shuttle bay without offering to help with luggage and even having the audacity to demand a tip it was almost worth it just to stretch the legs, treads, and wings in the instance of a spacer and elysian present.
Without leaving their quarters it was the first time any of them saw any of the other passengers if at a distance as each and every man was guided onto a large open hall where the still sealed line of doors to the megashuttle blocked further transit.
At first, it was Carina Sanroma. Wearing the new skull and sawbones of the NYRDs and SAW she had been indoctrinated into as the profession of a military medic she had once known was turned upside down and her new training taken over by an overtly powerful if a suspiciously optimistic and generous political group that had attempted to fill her head with not only the latest of Nepleslian medical knowledge and practices but also low-key a lot of outright political takes that leaned heavily into some xenophobic and nationalist practices against anything deemed Non-Nepleslian. Her natural suspicions had let little of it stick but the end result was that she was now twice the medic (in practice) she was before with a strange weight of authority to her to the point that the several sealed crates of MEC-H cylinders being loaded onto the shuttle were now her sole responsibility while a slightly more important one; An officer of some kind she knew nothing more, was carried on her person in an annoyingly heavy sling-bag that would never seem to stay in the right position and shifted constantly. There was a cloning facility planetside and it was now her responsibility to deliver the latest batch of heroes to revive.
After her was Quilly Ash, the elysian finally given enough room to stretch her painfully cramped wings after almost three days of confinement. It was impossible for the two to miss each other being the only ones present and before they could so much as process to greet one another others came filing out.
Lupin Kennedy, and the Freespacer Molotra. The former was lean, tanned, and in good shape considering the last time they had seen him, and for the two girls it was both a slight relief and perhaps in the back of the mind possibly even a disappointment that he was not naked in nothing but a pair of womens panties. The latter wearing the reluctant beret of the NSMC having been so much as drafted after her place on her mothership was long since considered abandoned but was also strangely free if independent and while not yet fully faded the lingering touch of a stargod had turned to a lingering sense of inspiration towards concepts she had never felt qualified or thought of before.
Next came Tobius Carrick. While he had been known to be a member of the IPG to some when they first met him in the garden of thorns he now wore the uniform of an NSMC noncom with a matching Corporal rank. The group had been strangely silent since Ukk towards him without so much as a debriefing; He had been watched, that much was for sure. But was never approached, taken, or even interviewed on what was sure to be a considerable scandal he had been involved in. Instead, he was still trying to figure out if he had been disavowed or discharged from the group and should be expecting a kill squad or detainment team from the Wardens when he received orders at his temporary billet for his old serial number in the NSMC before he had been recruited by Deuce. He was a corporal now, and for all his investigations his file simply had a lot of blank-spots added to it over the past several years and the indication that digging too deeply into it would not be a wise idea without considerable backing or protection.
Filling out the survivors of several years of trauma was a stark reminder of how many they had started with and all that had been sacrificed to that point just for less than a tenth of the crew of the Small Death was still alive and all in the same place.
At least most of them. Minnie Valentine was out there somewhere to the surprise of them all after seeing her and the others near-pasted on the kuvexian Cruiser. The veteran NonCom was more of a hero than ever and was now some kind of figurehead political figure for the group Carina now belonged to. She looked almost nothing like the last time they had seen her, a full-body cyborg being the clear toll she had paid and was even now considered the sole survivor of their expedition. Having known her briefly before her augmentations the new Valentine looked cold and stoic on the video feeds about her.
Clearly, nobody had told her, or the rest of the sector, that there were five more survivors sitting in one spot at that very moment that also deserved royalties and franchising rights!
Regardless it had been Four Years since then. Four long years of their friends, comrades, and loved ones all thinking them dead and having grieved and moved on. For those of them with family their interactions or even if they had revealed their survival to them was their own.
But then. Then there were the other survivors of their latest encounter.
Clayton Tillery, tall and imposing. The grenade-happy fanatic that had shot first in the warehouse and been partly responsible for Lupin catching a round.
Vaishnavi Pai, the even taller gunner from the same team of Locusts goons.
Caffran Canterberry, the now Sergeant and the first to test the waters of getting shot before passing the honor onto Lupin with the same round after the latter had disarmed him, his camo cloak stowed away in his pack for convience.
And then there was Francis Euphoria. Who came in from a separate door like all the rest and was wearing no longer the coat of an old star-empire commissar but instead a PFC rank and beret. And whose eyes widened in recognition at all the familiar faces. "Gosh!" Francis cut in the tension, her voice echoing in the round boarding hall with a cringe-inducing date statement, "I see the bureaucratic process hasn't changed over the decades."
When nobody else entered the hub and the doors to the shuttle had yet to open there was a strange mix of emotions and thought processes brewing between two separate but now reunited groups. They all had the same orders:
Move to Svodog system capital; Stenkagorad, NSMC 309th billet - Stenkagorad Starport at the earliest convenience. Transit and accommodations are made ahead of time on your behalf. Report to commanding officer; LT. Devone for following orders - Staff Office of General Apollodorus Wiegand, Commanding general NSMC 309th
"Gosh!" Francis cut in the tension, her voice echoing in the round boarding hall with a cringe-inducing date statement, "I see the bureaucratic process hasn't changed over the decades." It seemed that conspiracy or not it would always remain easier to just select groups of idle marines and throw them together and ship them out when they all technically, except for Francis, belonged once or were recruited into the 309th.
"Anyone knows what a Whooper is?" She asked, pulling a rolling suitcase up to stand beside Caffran and surprising all of them who at least had a brief taste of her bipolar misandry did not fly into a fit or rage by a males mere presence near her.
