Charmaylarg Dufrain
🎖️ Game Master
- RP Date
- Ye-47
- RP Location
- Higaflan System
Freehold System - Freehold - Ricinus Factory
Of the few factories held by the corporation, Ricinus was the smallest. Perhaps only 50,000 square feet of interior space the factory was hardly cramped by any metric for the hundred and more Strays that ever garrisoned the makeshift fortress the factory was a combination of industrial workhorse meets castle and depot all mixed together with a little bit of a distorted vision of a military base as gun emplacements jutted out of holes in the walls and on battlements and towards the skies while hundreds of AAP drones patrolled its perimeter and a small army more laid empty and idle just to be inhabited by the Fairys ready to mobile. Ricinus was, lightly speaking, at least one of the top-ten most fortified places on freehold factory.
And the strays, serious about little, took their home lightly none at all. Each adding their own little touches from welded and riveted sheets of starship armor, to some kind of amalgamation of a shield generator. Each stray was dedicated to making sure their little fortress could survive if not the legions of cats that might someday assail it at least hold out against a second glassing of the moon.
And they believed it would survive, too.
But for all its size, and all that the strays had done to it, the fortress was ever really only ever garrisoned by at most a hundred or so strays at most, not including any Fairys in their drone bodies. This made the fortress factory of Ricinus feel if not unlived in then at least very empty. This meant that when not blackout drunk, lost, dead, or double-lost many of the strays could be found congregating in the factories social spaces;
Games of Kill Ball on the factory floor, as the combination boxing-rugby-basketball game was often picked up over conveyor belts and even in catwalks when getting really intense.
Massive video game or media watching in one of the Silos from signals picked up via the InterNep or Fae.
Weapons testing in one of the empty factory floors with one of the reinforced load bearing walls.
The workshop and the mad machines the strays cooked up for their frames.
The depot where strays worked on their mechs.
And the most important one, the cabana. Little more than a cafeteria the cabana was dressed up like a distasteful impersonation of Hanakos world with little plastic palm frawns lining the walls, glass sands up to the walls, pools of murky water in leaking tubs, an honest to freehold century palm that jutted at an angle due to its height and the ceilings lack of height somehow kept alive, and more. The Cabana was one part mess hall, one part party hotspot as it was at that very moment.
The cabana was filled with the smell and also very literal thick smoke as someone busted out a grill and was grilling off synthetic burger meat, liver-brats, mystery brisket and more filtered only by a small series of pinprick holes in a nearby window sucking oxygen through patches of duct tape over them into the airless void of the moon.
A cry of "Come and get em!" went out as the massive Rhinoscerous of a man, both figurative and literally, Rhindol Cruz shouted as he gestured with the tiny beer in his massive leathery hand and the shovel he was using as a spatula the dripped what to others would be a concerning amount of grease back onto the char broiler as it sparked flames of fire onto the floor where it soaked into and petered out in the sands. A small line formed from the grill as everything that could be used from torilla shells, to slices of bread, to just wrapping the ball-shaped meat patties in as every mutant went from the chow line to a table of what was maybe the largest table of assorted condiments in as many forms as possible. With them small tablets of radiation-blockers and antimutagens were downed to keep mutations from flaring unwantedly and the century of strays mingled and partied like it was YE-47.
Which it was.
The reason for the celebration? A job well done!
Not even that morning the news had come in through the Fae from the most reliable of their lot with the nickname Mutant Ruth for its lances triumph in aiding the benevolent grand viceroy-supreme in the unification and liberation of the planet in the Higaflan system. The grand viceroy, a little rixx none of them could pronounce the name of and just called him Twerp had unified his people after years of struggle and oppression after some cats came in, blew up their entire industry base, sent them a bunch of pixelated images someone had to explain to the locals was pornography, declared that the star army was #1, the kuvexians and rixxikor were at least #7, and that the empress herself wouldn't dump trash on them if they even asked real nice like!
Or something like that.
Twerp and his united army of the free folk (name still pending after it was explained that it might attribute them with freespacers) were fighting a war of liberation against the oppressors who denied their nature as star faring people wanting more than just farming and societal stability and had scraped together a rather nice war chest to hire on a company of Drones and a single lance that, while not inherently expensive, had sweetened the pot with the use of their new shipyard and port the people of Higaflan had been repairing after they said the cats decided that the Yamatain act of clear aggression after the Rixx had been doing hardly anything wrong in their eyes had destroyed it.
And then had re-iterated the lewd parts now that Twerp and his commanders knew to be offended by it.
Twerp promised free, unrestricted use of the shipyard by the Corporation who only needed to supply the materials and blueprints as soon as his liberation army won a very one-sided new civil war. Seeing an easy victory Clotho had taken a lance and a company of drones and by the festive atmosphere in the cabana news had spread far and wide that the planet was now under the rule of Grand-viceroy Twerp and his liberators.
With the help of the strays! Freedom fighters and soon to be in possession of a fleet!
"Dawgs are done, Come n' get em!" Rhindol cried out at the next batch of food as some got up for seconds while the others mingled and partied, the digital avatars of Fairys making a light show in the smoke and on the ceiling as they zipped out through the room excitedly.
Of the few factories held by the corporation, Ricinus was the smallest. Perhaps only 50,000 square feet of interior space the factory was hardly cramped by any metric for the hundred and more Strays that ever garrisoned the makeshift fortress the factory was a combination of industrial workhorse meets castle and depot all mixed together with a little bit of a distorted vision of a military base as gun emplacements jutted out of holes in the walls and on battlements and towards the skies while hundreds of AAP drones patrolled its perimeter and a small army more laid empty and idle just to be inhabited by the Fairys ready to mobile. Ricinus was, lightly speaking, at least one of the top-ten most fortified places on freehold factory.
And the strays, serious about little, took their home lightly none at all. Each adding their own little touches from welded and riveted sheets of starship armor, to some kind of amalgamation of a shield generator. Each stray was dedicated to making sure their little fortress could survive if not the legions of cats that might someday assail it at least hold out against a second glassing of the moon.
And they believed it would survive, too.
But for all its size, and all that the strays had done to it, the fortress was ever really only ever garrisoned by at most a hundred or so strays at most, not including any Fairys in their drone bodies. This made the fortress factory of Ricinus feel if not unlived in then at least very empty. This meant that when not blackout drunk, lost, dead, or double-lost many of the strays could be found congregating in the factories social spaces;
Games of Kill Ball on the factory floor, as the combination boxing-rugby-basketball game was often picked up over conveyor belts and even in catwalks when getting really intense.
Massive video game or media watching in one of the Silos from signals picked up via the InterNep or Fae.
Weapons testing in one of the empty factory floors with one of the reinforced load bearing walls.
The workshop and the mad machines the strays cooked up for their frames.
The depot where strays worked on their mechs.
And the most important one, the cabana. Little more than a cafeteria the cabana was dressed up like a distasteful impersonation of Hanakos world with little plastic palm frawns lining the walls, glass sands up to the walls, pools of murky water in leaking tubs, an honest to freehold century palm that jutted at an angle due to its height and the ceilings lack of height somehow kept alive, and more. The Cabana was one part mess hall, one part party hotspot as it was at that very moment.
The cabana was filled with the smell and also very literal thick smoke as someone busted out a grill and was grilling off synthetic burger meat, liver-brats, mystery brisket and more filtered only by a small series of pinprick holes in a nearby window sucking oxygen through patches of duct tape over them into the airless void of the moon.
A cry of "Come and get em!" went out as the massive Rhinoscerous of a man, both figurative and literally, Rhindol Cruz shouted as he gestured with the tiny beer in his massive leathery hand and the shovel he was using as a spatula the dripped what to others would be a concerning amount of grease back onto the char broiler as it sparked flames of fire onto the floor where it soaked into and petered out in the sands. A small line formed from the grill as everything that could be used from torilla shells, to slices of bread, to just wrapping the ball-shaped meat patties in as every mutant went from the chow line to a table of what was maybe the largest table of assorted condiments in as many forms as possible. With them small tablets of radiation-blockers and antimutagens were downed to keep mutations from flaring unwantedly and the century of strays mingled and partied like it was YE-47.
Which it was.
The reason for the celebration? A job well done!
Not even that morning the news had come in through the Fae from the most reliable of their lot with the nickname Mutant Ruth for its lances triumph in aiding the benevolent grand viceroy-supreme in the unification and liberation of the planet in the Higaflan system. The grand viceroy, a little rixx none of them could pronounce the name of and just called him Twerp had unified his people after years of struggle and oppression after some cats came in, blew up their entire industry base, sent them a bunch of pixelated images someone had to explain to the locals was pornography, declared that the star army was #1, the kuvexians and rixxikor were at least #7, and that the empress herself wouldn't dump trash on them if they even asked real nice like!
Or something like that.
Twerp and his united army of the free folk (name still pending after it was explained that it might attribute them with freespacers) were fighting a war of liberation against the oppressors who denied their nature as star faring people wanting more than just farming and societal stability and had scraped together a rather nice war chest to hire on a company of Drones and a single lance that, while not inherently expensive, had sweetened the pot with the use of their new shipyard and port the people of Higaflan had been repairing after they said the cats decided that the Yamatain act of clear aggression after the Rixx had been doing hardly anything wrong in their eyes had destroyed it.
And then had re-iterated the lewd parts now that Twerp and his commanders knew to be offended by it.
Twerp promised free, unrestricted use of the shipyard by the Corporation who only needed to supply the materials and blueprints as soon as his liberation army won a very one-sided new civil war. Seeing an easy victory Clotho had taken a lance and a company of drones and by the festive atmosphere in the cabana news had spread far and wide that the planet was now under the rule of Grand-viceroy Twerp and his liberators.
With the help of the strays! Freedom fighters and soon to be in possession of a fleet!
"Dawgs are done, Come n' get em!" Rhindol cried out at the next batch of food as some got up for seconds while the others mingled and partied, the digital avatars of Fairys making a light show in the smoke and on the ceiling as they zipped out through the room excitedly.
