[ISC Enkidu] A Putrid Hub of Muck and Evilness

Re: A Putrid Hub of Muck and Evilness

Louis shrugged as he stepped into the hallway. The faint smell of well-used machinery in the ship's bowels wafted up through the elevator shaft and floor panels, and the hallway itself looked not entirely unlike the curling, dirty halls of his homeland settlement. The ship was going to be a good place to stay for a while, if nothing else.

The assassin opened the door to a suitable dormitory and plopped his supplies down on the floor of the room, one at a time removing his belongings until they were fanned out across the room in a semi-organised pattern. Now that everything was out, Louis took the elevator back down to the cargo hold.

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Specs blinked. The metaphor made no sense. How could repairs make things worse? Deep in thought, and mulling over this confusing dilemma, the Freespacer kept quiet.

Fixing things makes things better, right? Then, by definition, how would that break things?

Re: A Putrid Hub of Muck and Evilness

ShotJon said:

CHrys leaned against a wall and put het hands behind her head in casual way. "Well skipper what bussiness are we in again?" she asked with her eyebrows high above her eyes.

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Shiori gave an amused snort at that. "Yeah, maybe we don't have to worry about the ship getting full of holes..." It didn't seem likely. Anybody advertising that heavily in Funky City was either desperate or not sticking to entirely legal channels of business... both of which, in Shiori's experience, were the sort of things that tended to get one shot.

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"We're," Myr said to Chris, grinning, "perfec'ly legal salvagers. Anybody attackin' us is clearly in th' wrong. Got it?" She blew smoke out her nose, gesturing to the crew. "All'a you - an' anybody else showin' up, that might happen - is gonna get an equal share of anythin' we sell, and if we pick up somethin' you want yer free t'take it. Keep a fuckin' eye out for leads, too."

As Louis unpacked his things, he saw that the room was, rather than being single-occupancy, had a bed on one side and another opposite. Nevertheless, he was free to throw his stuff wherever - the other half of the room hadn't yet been claimed.

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One of the figures to shuffle onto the ramp appeared to be a humanoid, donning a long red coat trimmed in gold and covered in unusual patterning, his body visibly wrapped in colorful scarves or bandages. On his back, rested an unusual string instrument, his belt bearing a pistol and a number of blades. His face was tanned and covered in a small layer of rough stubble and dark brown hair held back by a colorful headscarf.

At a glance, the man have seemed a bit handsome, but his face was marked with a pair of red wedges that crossed his cheeks, and his nose appeared to have been broken a great many times and reset in what was a good approximation of the proper way. He left eye was hidden by a few loops of white bandages, and there was something... off, about his remaining right one.

Algol Marida hadn't eaten in days. He'd had plenty of... whatever was left in his flask, and managed to stay alive through scraps of dried meat and fruit that he'd smuggled in his clothes, but his last real meal had been several weeks ago. Even as he thought about eating and tried to remember what he had eaten, the memories became a little foggy and his head began to feel like it was going to split apart. The fact that he'd survived on alcohol and dried food was probably going to be a poor indicator of his health, and despite his best attempts to mask his current smell with herbs and perfume, he probably did smell like a busker, albeit in one of the more pleasant ranges.

As he approached, he gave a nod to the cigar-smoking captain and raised his bandaged right arm. "Yo."

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Surprisingly, it was Louis who noticed the arrival first. From his position across the cargo bay from Algol, the Delsaurian assassin had observed the Iromakuanhe coming up the ramp and decided to keep surveillance from his position. After the newly-appointed security enforcer aboard the Enkidu determined that Algol was, at best, a minimal threat at this time, Louis stepped forward into the fold.

He noted the big strange instrument on the man's back first, and gave it a strange look. "Indigenous instrument," Louis noted, "somewhere I've never seen before, myself." A moment of thoughtful contemplation crossed his features before he spoke again. "Definitely no' from Nepleslian space, right? Clever li'l musical instrument ya have there, sir."

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Dante Martellus Vickensmall, hustled up to the Courier 2A, with his duffel bag over his shoulder. The ship's exterior was something he had to drink in before moving up the ramp. The Enkidu looked fairly impressive for a civilian ship, especially one of its job description. In the short time it had been around, Origin had made some decent ships, some of which he had run across in his search for a steady job. He was actually surprised it too him this long to find a decent position.

Nevermind that, he had a crew to meet. He set down his dufflebag for a moment. Then, he straightened out his flight jacket, and patted down his his fatigues, trying to set-up a decent first impression. With that done, the man heaved the duffel bag over his shoulder again, and then trudged up the ramp. He took one short look at the people already there, congregating in one spot. Without a word, he simply walked forward, stopping next to the desperado looking character with the strange guitar. He arched a brow up at the man, and then up at the rest of his new crew mates.

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Izual Katos was not terribly eager to meet Enkidu's crew. This wasn't to say he was reticent. He simply held a vast well of indifference when it came to his flock. The captain's manner told him more than enough about the sort of people he'd be dealing with; and though he had some respect for her poise from that first encounter, Izual knew a well of scum and villainy when he smelled one.

A well of scum and villainy was alright, though. After all, if Izual only associated with the good and pure, there'd be nobody in the universe he ever spoke to. And one couldn't guide the lost to a better path if he avoided them...

The Caelisolan ascended the ramp with the avian grace of a dancing crane, stretching his wings out wide - to their full fifteen foot span - before folding them again as he entered the vessel. In space, the room to stretch one's wings was not nearly so ample.

He did not speak upon his entrance, only looking from one individual to the next. The captain, he had met already. The "bandit prince" from Maekardan as well. The others, well...

Re: A Putrid Hub of Muck and Evilness

"'eyyyyy," cawed Myr, throwing both arms up in the air. Her cigar, still held in between two fingers, went spinning off into the cargo bay somewhere while she pretended like she'd meant to throw it. "Stanky-ass, Big-an'-Small, pi - " She stopped, eyeing Chrysanthe and Izual. "...uh, priest. Dammit, I gotta come up with a better one." One hand rubbed at her face. "Anyway! This's th' rest'a th' crew we got, I met 'em earlier an' told 'em to just come sometime today. So. Innerduce yerselves."

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"Actually, ma'am, it's Vick-en-small." Dante piped, a bright glow to his face as he found himself recognized by who seemed to be the Captain. He gave a firm salute to the woman and to the crew, merely out of habit.

"Dante Martellus Vickensmall, here to claim the pilot's seat." he stated, dropping his duffel bag to the side. "I hope no one's beat me to it. I tend to be a little slower than others since my legs are so short." He tapped one of his boots on the floor. "But since the length of your legs don't really matter at the helm, I think you'll find me the best available, unless the chair is set high. Then I need a stepping stool." Despite the comedic nature of the joke, he appeared totally serious.

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Chrys was walking around the ship, looking for anything interesting and trying to memorize layout and other things. She threw her brown coat on the bed in one of the rooms to mark it as her own. Well the bed will probably be too small, but it will do.

Her pistol was no clearly visible, but she was on ship so it was okay. WHen she got back to others some new faces just showed up. "Hello everybody," she said when she got there. And listening to little dwarf who claimed to be a pilot. After that she looked at every one and nodded in delight of her still being the tallest person on the ship. That even though one of the guys was Elysian. That bastard even had wings.

Third one was strange guy with horns. Horns. Well probably some kind of alien. No bother worrying about thing, until he starts tackle things or people.

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Specs looked to the newcomers: a rather short man, a tall... winged thing... and a still-rather-tall... bandaged thing. A bandaged things with horns, actually. This brought up some questions, namely what were the latter two? The short one was obviously a Nepleslian or Geshrin, not that it mattered too much which. The other two, however, were mysteries to the Freespacer. Her child-like curiosity drove her to the Polysentience.

Inquiries as to the birdy's species led to the results of either a Lorath or an Elysian. A quick comparison between the races and the one standing in front of her led to her conclusion of an Elysian, or so the Freespacer hoped. Mix-ups were always awkward.

Next on her information hunt was the bandaged one. The most distinctive characteristic that was easily visible were the horns since practically everything else was scarf or bandage, or something not the body underneath. Horns... horns... ah, an Iromakuanhe.

There was a silent cheer in celebration for a mystery solved within Specs' mind but that didn't stop her continued curiosity. A short casual stroll towards Algol was followed by an outreached hand, looking to poke the bandaged arm.

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The assortment of people he hadn't met all received cursory glances, though Chrys also got a raised eyebrow. An Elysian was not hard to pick out of a crowd, wings or no... though she was certainly an unusual specimen even aside from the wings. The height was remarkable, and would have been highly unusual even among Patricians; and this woman was clearly no Patrician...

She was the first Izual greeted formally, though, offering a salute (of the Elysian variety - a slight bow and flare of the wings while maintaining eye contact) before speaking. "I did not expect another aboard."

It was only then that he acknowledged the captain's comment to and/or about him, and cast a slightly annoyed glance in that direction. "I am no priest. I can't possibly be a priest, as I actually care about the will of God."

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"I did not expect another aboard." said Elysian and Chrys had to nod to that. "Tell me about it," she replied and waited till Elysian replied to Captain Barlowe.

"Captain likes to give her crew nicknames." she said to him after his words. "I think you got lucky. I am a peacock. Anyway my name is Chrysanthe and to tell the true you are the first Elysian I ever saw, except my late mum. I was raised here in funky city you know."

This could be really interesting. Chrys could actually find out something about Elysians from this man. Not like she is going to tell him that she is bastard of a patrician, but he could tell her few interesting things.

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Tuija adjusted her glasses as she looked over the newcomers. She wasn't entirely familiar with many alien species, at least, not personally... That will have to be changing soon, she thought to herself. Good!

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Shiori stayed in a nonchalant posture as she glanced over the two newcomers. Biggest bunch of freaks and geeks I've ever seen in one place... Further thoughts were cut off as she noticed Dante's height... or more importantly, his lack thereof. Finding people she could literally look down on wasn't that common for Shiori, and she already planned to abuse the hell out of this. "Can't be that hard to touch the pedals. After all, you're starting out so low to the ground." She sounded like she was joking. Mostly.

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Myr snickered quietly at Shiori's comment, her eye sweeping over the crew.

"Looks like we got er'body's showin' up," she declared, straightening up from her leaning position on one of the cargo boxes. "Good thing I already got a job fer us. I got word'a some ship floatin' out in th' ass-end'a nowhere, empty, with all kind'a loot fer us to jus' waltz in an' take. I posted the coords up in the cockpit fer Captain Shortypants so we can get goin' soon."

Re: A Putrid Hub of Muck and Evilness

"Can't be that hard to touch the pedals. After all, you're starting out so low to the ground."

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Ah, someone of equal altitude. Dante looked up slightly at the Geshrin woman that addressed his lack of height. At first glance, she didn't look too friendly, but was sure she had a great personality by the wit she showed. Normally, Vickensmalls were small balls of angry who would fly off at the handle at such comments. Dante though? He was not one to let it get to him, especially after serving in the DIoN, where the average Marine was 6'2" and liked to pick fights.

"That depends if my seat is high, or the pedals are low. Otherwise, I'm going to need boxes for my feet, or platform boots." The short Nepleslian looked at his boots and the back up at Shiori, "Since I prefer the boots I'm wearing, I think I'd prefer the boxes."

"Looks like we got er'body's showin' up," she declared, straightening up from her leaning position on one of the cargo boxes. "Good thing I already got a job fer us. I got word'a some ship floatin' out in th' ass-end'a nowhere, empty, with all kind'a loot fer us to jus' waltz in an' take. I posted the coords up in the cockpit fer Captain Shortypants so we can get goin' soon."

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Dante looked up even further at Myr, with a more excited look on his face. The fact that he'd finally get to settle into the cockpit was a relief, he couldn't wait to meet the bridge crew.

"Want me to scuttle up there now? I wouldn't mind getting a feel for the ship and setting out my stuff."

Re: A Putrid Hub of Muck and Evilness

PlaidMage said:

Myr snickered quietly at Shiori's comment, her eye sweeping over the crew.

"Looks like we got er'body's showin' up," she declared, straightening up from her leaning position on one of the cargo boxes. "Good thing I already got a job fer us. I got word'a some ship floatin' out in th' ass-end'a nowhere, empty, with all kind'a loot fer us to jus' waltz in an' take. I posted the coords up in the cockpit fer Captain Shortypants so we can get goin' soon."

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"We are leavin' already?" asked Chrys surprised. She still had stuff in her room here at Funky City? "How much time do we have? Or I hope we will get back here? I got a flat in city with stuff in it. I don't like the thought of leaving it. Plus I don'T want to walk for days in teh same clothing. Eww. Is there a time for quicky taxi ride?"

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"Great," Louis grunted. "Cannae wait ta' get inta th' space lanes again." The assassin looked out the landing ramp, back down to the surface. The look on his face was unreadable, and possibly even confusing. He thought for a second about the breadbasket of Nepleslian civilization. Many skeptics had told him that he would be unable to find a job here, that businesses were packed to the gills with work, and the criminal underworld was very exclusive.

So imagine Louis' feelings on the matter when he landed a job his first day on Nepleslia Prime.

'Land o' opportunity, indeed.' Louis thought to himself, smiling. "Well, le's get offa this godfersaken landing pad!" The assassin said impatiently. "We donnae want another scab ta' get ta our loot 'afore us, do ye ken?"