Jelan had been spending the last few days on Black Moon quite well, he thought anyway. In all his years of con work and various terror jobs, he had yet to have a need for a rakish captain look in his bag of disguises, so he had been developing one. It was quite a doozy he believed, he had purchased much from a ''used goods'' store in one of the nearby tunnels, and had been lucky to find the right garments without too much of the previous ''users'' blood on them, what was left either was too faded to notice, or blended right in.
Currently he was residing in the dank place that could be considered a bar only due to what the robotic attendee was serving. The place was basically the end of a tunnel which had been blocked off with sheet metal that had been attached to the floor and ceiling to create a front wall. A random assortment of tables had been scattered in the area, and chairs to compliment them. The only lighting in the area was a string of small mixed regular and black lights that stretched from the entrance to the bar area at the very end where all the alcohol was contained, causing all the inhabitants to look like radiation victims, what little you could see of them. The robotic tender rolled through the area on duel treads, two pairs of grapplers usually holding drinks to be served, a third wielding a stun baton that Jelan had seen used on many a patron since he started hanging out here.
In normal lighting, Jelan's garb seemed to harken back to some romantic version of an archaic high seas pirate. His hat was a Yamatai Star Army issued tricorner, though it had all the insignia taken off of it, and was a bit patched in certain places. A black overcoat with red lining currently rested on his shoulders, drooping down to the rock floor of the bar, handle of a handgun protruding from the left side of the garment. He had learned that a show of force was usually all that was needed to keep the dregs off of you around here, besides, it added to the rakish attire. Also adding to that attire was a rather archaic blade hanging from his hip. Some thug in the tunnels had tried to rob him at sword point, obviously inebriated long past common sense, and he had taken the blade after taking his life, it matched after all. He didn't have a clue beyond the basics of ''pointy end goes in other guy'' of how to use a blade, but he didn't plan to use it in combat anyway. More practical was the handle of a knife sticking out of one of his black boots, which were currently residing on the rickety table he had called his own for the last few days here.
Most of his days had been spent working towards getting himself some crew and some supplies. He had managed to get into contact with one of the battle salvage outfits that worked out of the moon, and had traded three of the suits he had gotten with the ship for a Ronin-class fighter. It apparently hadn't had time to get into combat, it was practically new excepting for some charring on the paintjob. Aesthetics could wait. He wasn't much of a fighter jock, but he thought the weapon pods he had gotten in the deal would work fine for what he needed it for. He had decided to keep the spare parts for the power armor, and had paid Mick in solid cash for the repaint job and small bit of repair work he needed on his ship. The little Sojourner class transport was now painted a solid navy blue, all insignia and logos the previous owners had painted on it were erased. He was practical enough not to paint some flamboyant logo on it for himself, the less recognizable the better.
A significant amount of cash had been paid to Mick to help him assemble his crew, especially considering the small task he had asked for. In exchange for the cash, he simply asked Mick to recommend any newcomers to the place, or anyone reliable looking for work, to come talk to him at the Bat Cave. It was a waiting game now, he could sell some of the parts if he needed more cash for the docking fee, but when he got a crew, then the fun would really start.
Well...maybe he would indulge himself a little; apparently the ladies in the upper tunnels were real pros about their work.
Currently he was residing in the dank place that could be considered a bar only due to what the robotic attendee was serving. The place was basically the end of a tunnel which had been blocked off with sheet metal that had been attached to the floor and ceiling to create a front wall. A random assortment of tables had been scattered in the area, and chairs to compliment them. The only lighting in the area was a string of small mixed regular and black lights that stretched from the entrance to the bar area at the very end where all the alcohol was contained, causing all the inhabitants to look like radiation victims, what little you could see of them. The robotic tender rolled through the area on duel treads, two pairs of grapplers usually holding drinks to be served, a third wielding a stun baton that Jelan had seen used on many a patron since he started hanging out here.
In normal lighting, Jelan's garb seemed to harken back to some romantic version of an archaic high seas pirate. His hat was a Yamatai Star Army issued tricorner, though it had all the insignia taken off of it, and was a bit patched in certain places. A black overcoat with red lining currently rested on his shoulders, drooping down to the rock floor of the bar, handle of a handgun protruding from the left side of the garment. He had learned that a show of force was usually all that was needed to keep the dregs off of you around here, besides, it added to the rakish attire. Also adding to that attire was a rather archaic blade hanging from his hip. Some thug in the tunnels had tried to rob him at sword point, obviously inebriated long past common sense, and he had taken the blade after taking his life, it matched after all. He didn't have a clue beyond the basics of ''pointy end goes in other guy'' of how to use a blade, but he didn't plan to use it in combat anyway. More practical was the handle of a knife sticking out of one of his black boots, which were currently residing on the rickety table he had called his own for the last few days here.
Most of his days had been spent working towards getting himself some crew and some supplies. He had managed to get into contact with one of the battle salvage outfits that worked out of the moon, and had traded three of the suits he had gotten with the ship for a Ronin-class fighter. It apparently hadn't had time to get into combat, it was practically new excepting for some charring on the paintjob. Aesthetics could wait. He wasn't much of a fighter jock, but he thought the weapon pods he had gotten in the deal would work fine for what he needed it for. He had decided to keep the spare parts for the power armor, and had paid Mick in solid cash for the repaint job and small bit of repair work he needed on his ship. The little Sojourner class transport was now painted a solid navy blue, all insignia and logos the previous owners had painted on it were erased. He was practical enough not to paint some flamboyant logo on it for himself, the less recognizable the better.
A significant amount of cash had been paid to Mick to help him assemble his crew, especially considering the small task he had asked for. In exchange for the cash, he simply asked Mick to recommend any newcomers to the place, or anyone reliable looking for work, to come talk to him at the Bat Cave. It was a waiting game now, he could sell some of the parts if he needed more cash for the docking fee, but when he got a crew, then the fun would really start.
Well...maybe he would indulge himself a little; apparently the ladies in the upper tunnels were real pros about their work.
