emptynesters | TEST DRIVE #1

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test drive

TEST DRIVE #1

LET'S GET (meta)PHYSICAL

WELCOME TO THE TEST DRIVE and thank you for your interest! Though the game hasn't started yet, we've put together a mini-mission with a few different goals for your characters to pursue. In the interest of flexibility and allowing players to experiment with the game mechanics, we invite you to pick your own broodmates, experiment with abilities and specializations, talk to each other and maybe make up some pre-established cr, and generally play around however you like. This test drive will not be game canon, so take this chance to go nuts!

For the full experience, we strongly encourage players to write up a short blurb about what their fellow characters might know about them either through shared time on the Station or through the Nest mental link. Handy links can be found at the bottom of this entry if you have any questions or want to place a reserve.

HELINOS TOZ
...is the smallest galactic empire located in the second disk of the Silver Halo Galaxy. For thousands of years, the neighboring CONFEDERATE OF BAL and INIVIAL COR(P) have eaten away at Helinos Toz's territory and now have reduced the once-great empire to a single moon ruled by the Last Empress. Though she is a child who owns little in the way of property on the galactic stage, the Last Empress still holds a precious seat in the shrinking Galactic House of Chairs. From this seat she and her allies have managed to keep a stranglehold on the throats of Bal and Inivial’s expansion efforts into the fourth and fifth disks of the Halo. She has accomplished this task by viciously excising loopholes in galactic regulation. Paradoxical though it may sound, the outer rings view the Last Empress as one of the few remaining heroes for the common man against the absorption of either the Bal or Inivial, a symbol of the dangers the two great empires present and a name and a heritage that even today commands respect. While Bal and Inivial may have radically different galactic goals and famously spend their time hounding one another in the house of chairs, they can agree on one thing: the Last Empress and her tiny moon kingdom are a thorn in their side. In an effort to pluck it, Bal and Inivial have joined forces to do away with the Empress and her moon forever.

While a direct attack on the ground empire moon would be an undeniable act of war, and would result in heavy sanctions which would only serve to set their goals back further, there are ways to destabilize the moon without actually putting boots on the ground. Inivial has decided to sacrifice one of their own assets to achieve this: the planet which the moon orbits. Helinos Prime is a cold, dead rock, without it's own atmosphere, as well as the site of a significant Inivial mining operation. It's this very operation that Invivial intends to utilize. By mining directly to the planet’s core, they will harvest a massive amount of heavy elements, cutting heavily into the planet's mass and degrading it's orbit in space-- making it a risk to surrounding inhabited worlds. Galactic regulation demands such a threat be absolutely absolved- by total destruction. Further, it states that these dangers must be dealt with in no more than eight hours, regardless of any other sanctions or treaties. The act itself is quite sterile: a beam weapon located in the first ring which is capable of destroying most planets in a single shot as long as alignment is correct. And once the planet goes, so too does the empire moon.

But even getting rid of the empire’s last land holdings wouldn’t do away with the Empress herself, which is why the Confederate of Bal’s massive armada has opted to choose today for a sprawling training exercise in their space above the empire moon. As is their right under the Secrets and Sanctions treaty, they have refused the operation of any other space traffic in that sector until their exercise has been completed. The paperwork is filed, notarized, and finalized. Under the guise of the Bal and Inivial’s mutual animosity, the two super powers mean to trap the Last Empress with the very rules and regulations she’s spent her young life manipulating to keep them both muzzled.

In summary: the Last Empress and what remains of her small royal envoy are stuck quite literally between a dissolving rock and the hard place of the Confederate of Bal’s guns with no diplomatic wiggle room. Should the empire of Helinos Toz fall, the majority of the house of chairs will turn in favor of expansion and it won’t be long before the Halo’s outer rings become the stage for a vicious war between Bal and Inivial. Those citizens of the outer rings will find their lives drastically changed as those two powers dash to make opportune land (and space) grabs. If the Last Empress can be saved, she might be able to successfully reveal this act of aggression for what it is, and use it as a way to rally the rest of the house of chairs, around her and the interests of the outer rings she stands for, against Bal and Inivial.

YOUR MISSION is to help the Last Empress escape the empire moon before it can be vaporized by Inivial, and to slide her and as many of her retinue as possible through the lines of Bal’s armada undetected.

PROMPTS
ONE • DEBRIEF: NOT AS SEXY AS IT SOUNDS
You've been given your mission file (see above) and outfitted with the appropriate gear to see it through. Today that means thermal suits designed to withstand face melting temperatures and a small cadre of ships that seem awfully familiar... if you're not mistaken they're the same ships currently in formation above Helinos Toz. You can ask Prince where he got them or Cathaway for some flying advice, but you probably won't get answers that makes any sense. Hopefully some of you know how to fly. Hug your friends, say your prayers, and wave Station 72 goodbye because it's time to...

TWO • HITTING ROCK BOTTOM
...sabotage a giant plasma drill! Down on Helinos Prime, Inivial's massive mining operation is a veritable labyrinth of tunnels and substations. Luckily you've been provided with schematics (if you feel like using them), and with some trial and error you should be able to navigate your way to key points in the mining operation. It won't be possible to completely stop the machine from coring the planet, but you just need to buy a little time. Suggested targets are the drill's targeting interface, its coolant systems, and its auxiliary stabilizer vents. How do you do that? Time to use your imagination. On the plus side, no one's around to stop you. Inivial already evacuated their on-site personnel which, come to think of it, might be a bad sign.

THREE • HURRY UP AND WAIT
With Inivial's drill momentarily on pause, it's time to rescue an Empress. Does she even know you're coming for her? Well, she'll find out eventually. There's room for six extra people on the ships provided, meaning you have exactly enough room to smuggle her and her closest advisers off of the empire moon. You've got six hours before you can (and really SHOULD) leave. Right now it looks like there's time to kill. Get to know the locals, the moon's bustling trade port, or its local population of cute dragonbirds. You have a collapsing planet below you and a veritable wasps nest of ships above you. Enjoy it while it lasts-- or bypass it all and wait for your window of opportunity with the Empress and her envoy.

FOUR • INTO THE WILD BLACK YONDER
The stealth ships can travel invisibly while in atmosphere, but there's no tricking the sensors of the Bal's ships. Luckily you fit right in-- almost. Pretending to be Bal ships might make the most sense, but what if someone notices you're out of drill formation? Even worse, what if someone detects you leaving the empire moon? No Bal ship is supposed to be down there. You could always try finding another ship to take into space, something with a little bit of stealth or maybe a harmless trading vessel. Then again, no one's supposed to be coming off the moon and into this space at all. Think fast, talk faster, or hope your pilot is really good.

FIVE • WILDCARD
Honestly? This is your show. Go surfing on some subterranean lava flows while stalling Inivial's mining efforts, try to take all the Empress's gold leaf dining room chairs with you when you evacuate the empire moon, or maybe you're done with this whole mission alltogether and want to try hijacking a ship from the Bal's armada and flying it out into space until this whole thing blows over. There's a whole galaxy out there; what else could be waiting for you?

NAVIGATION • PREMISE • FAQ • GLOSSARY • SYMBIOTIC SKILLS GUIDE • RESERVES

Threaded | Flat

( OOC: For the TDM Steve will have a IOTA specialization of vibranium-like biological armor with a fifteen minute timer and a pre-serum canon point. Assuming your character is a broodmate for telepathic shenanigans is A-OK. For assuming pre-established CR, it can be noted by other characters that since his introduction to Station 72 he's been extremely wary about this whole idea of a 'collective' and tends to do his best to block himself off from telepathic contact during downtime, but broodmates are free to pick up little tidbits of his emotional state or thoughts from my brackets.

If you've got an idea for a different thread, feel free to PM this account! )

i. MILLING ABOUT THE STATION (debrief)

[ Thermal suit. Check - almost. He's got it pulled up to his waist, shrugging into the the gloved sleeves. Fits him better than most of the suits in his closet back home.

Back home and a universe away.

He's taking the whole 'outer space' part of this adventure in stride. There's a mission - and maybe he's never been officially given a real mission before, but he finds his footing awfully quick. Falling out of step means letting down a whole lot of folks he's only just come to know. Means putting them in danger, along with a countless number of lives in this part of the galaxy about to be steamrolled by two warring powers. He won't consciously do anything to jeopardize them -

- but he's digging his heels in on another front. He's in agreement this time, as far as the plan is concerned. The Hivemind concept as a whole is another story. Steve can't speak to the creature that's made its home inside his body. No one can, he's told. Instead, there's the connection to the Nest. A sense of belonging, if he allows it.

(he's not, can't) ]

You get a look at our ships? [ He speaks to the nearest person suiting up, curious. Took a peak himself, never seen anything like it before. He thinks of Stark and his busted flying car. A wave of homesickness washes over him.

This ain't Kansas anymore. ]

ii. VENTS AND SUBSTATIONS (hitting rock bottom)

[ One - and possibly the only benefit of being his size is that Steve has no trouble maneuvering through vents, especially the hands and knees crawl-spaced ones. Once inside he's quick to make his way into the control room of this particular substation and sends coolant system #3 into critical failure (with all the grace of an armored fist when all else failed). Trouble is, certain emergency protocols kicked in and now he's locked in that very same room, right behind a heavy metal door that looks and feels like it means business.

He stares up at it, jaw tight. To whomever's in his brood and close: ]

( I'm... number... assist )

[ The mental communication is garbled. Bad connection.

But hey, at least all the air conditioning is on in this room... ]

iii. WHATEVER YOU LIKE (wildcard)

( Breaking more things, chilling on the moon, a high stakes chase scene - give me a prompt and we can run with it! )

Edited (where he from) 2016-02-04 07:49 (UTC)

ii: we're gonna jedi the shit out of this

[ as a jedi, anakin had been on his fair share of missions. these were as varied as the people in the galaxy. as a padawan, they had been simpler. some clamored for protection. others required investigation. a few were basically a long vacation away in a foreign planet answering obi-wan's questions about the planetary system to prove that yes, he had been paying attention in lessons and no, he had not been dreaming about a naboo queen he had last seen seven years before.

the war threw all simple joys of missions into the fire. or it has tried to. his contentment has soured over the years as the war dragged on. where so many see only clones created for a purpose, to fight and to die if need be, anakin sees his men. the jedi are not immune to injury either. pressed so tightly for resources, for manpower, for time, more and more they have had to cut their losses, regardless of what that means. in time, anakin has come to laugh less, forgotten how to relax, his eyes haunted by the weight of what he's seen and what he has had to do.

but smashing the shit out of a giant metal drill will bring out anyone's inner nine-year-old.

tipping his head up to the structure above, ] Do you have anything to climb?

iv: do you want to fly a spaceship

[ anakin could try to look more worried. technically, he can. the same way he can listen to obi-wan and the same way he can avoid escalating situations. the capacity is there; it's the willingness that's lacking.

take, for instance, the current situation: he is piloting a new ship, the controls are unfamiliar, they are virtually surrounded, and they have a concerned empress and her more panic-prone advisors on board. no ships other than theirs had landed or departed so that must be their friendly blockade hailing them. and not to put too fine a point on it, they'll be blasted to pieces the moment they're found out.

which judging from the insistence of the call was fourteen seconds ago. ]

We're in trouble. [ his eyes are on the blockade. almost idly, he suggests, ] You might want to strap yourself in. It'll get a little bumpy from here on out.

[ "bumpy." ]

( bonus: what your characters would have gleaned about anakin )

Edited 2016-02-04 15:27 (UTC)

(OOC: WHAT YOU (MIGHT) KNOW ABOUT CATHAWAY: Cathaway is the singular Rho-type senior host on Station 72. She's extremely close to the hivemind of the Nest and has a tendency to be a little dreamy, a little spooky, and in general just odd. That said she's very knowledgeable when it comes to the hivemind link, Rho-type specializations, and starfighters - though whether her version of 'helpful advice' she might dispense is actually helpful at all is extremely debatable. She's very good at keeping her hands (and thoughts) to herself as she's been told it's rude to do otherwise when she's perfectly capable of keeping both in check. That said, she's generally kind, open, and more than happy to have a conversation with anyone who wants one.)

ONE • JUST HANGIN' OUT
[Maybe in another life, one where it held scores of ships and hundreds of hosts, the hangar of Station 72 might have been easily confused for any other on a starstation with sufficiently advanced technology. Today it perhaps feels too broad, too open - absolutely cavernous as it runs for a considerable number of kilometers and currently houses only a meager handful of ships. Further, a sharp eye may have already noticed that there are no windows, no airlocks, and in general no ports at all that would allow the ships they mean to take out today to be ejected into space.

Cathaway doesn't seem worried. With the debriefing complete, she is performing last system checks on each Bal fighter in turn. They are svelte black and grey ships, each propped up on one of the many disks cut flush with the hangar's decking. The ships are built on a beautiful system; she finds the controls exceedingly clean and that is pleasant. She hopes they're easy enough. Nonetheless, Cathaway's made some modifications herself that should allow for a smoother interface for non-Baalan lifeforms. If luck is with them, she thinks they will be successful.

If she lets herself think very far, she wants to believe no host will die today. It's a kind hope, but not one she entertains for longer than it takes to pop this ship's main rear service panel. Once inside, there are more important matters to attend to: a final tuning of the ship's orbital acceleration system, for one.

--And answering questions, apparently. She doesn't look up when approached, merely continuing to gently adjust whatever it is she's tinkering with at present.]

How can we help you?

Edited 2016-02-04 07:45 (UTC)

I: 'This is some rescue'

[He feels much. A truth that existed long before the Nest adhered itself to him via one slight, symbiotic link, now exacerbated by his lingering attachment to the Force. Where Snoke's voice has miraculously receded, others have taken its place, leaving the thoughts and needs of passing strangers pooling instead beneath his skin - static feedback born entirely from two different mental processes that require more from him than inner peace (unachievable to say the least) or a mind devoted to digesting every struck cord. For all his time spent fostering bonds, willing away weakness and unrest, he feels unmoored. Exposed.

The mask stays on.

Still, sensitivity isn't necessarily a handicap: on missions like this, Kylo Ren finds purpose in being a silent alarm. Tucked away in the shadow of some ancient, towering spire whose shell now serves as a nesting ground for merchants and their bustling patrons, Ren might as well be smeared with the same clay he rests his back to. Ironically inconsequential, masked by incense, silence and purpose. Only those of his own brood could recognize the harsh rattle of unsettled thoughts as he waits for some telling trace of the Empress' otherwise fleeting existence.

And they have only hours to spare.]

II: 'You came in here, didn't you have a plan for getting out?'

This is a mistake. [It's rasped out (un)tactfully from just over his current partner's shoulder, voice harsh from digital manipulation and nearly dripping with expectation as his mask reflects the harsh lights of an active cockpit. For all his training, he's not a pilot. In fact when the Empress was loaded on board it seemed as though he'd be content to remain in the hold alongside her.

Joke's on you: Kylo Ren isn't content with anything. Ever.] They will detect us the moment we break atmosphere.

[Options exist for dealing with him: ignoring him, for one, though with his shoulders squared and hunched decisively forward, odds seem slim that Kylo Ren has any intention of fading into the background. Less slim when he grips the seat itself, leaning in to lessen what little space remains. The clock is ticking, the armada above is vast and looming, and now My Chemical Romance has decided the only place for him in the entire galaxy is right beside you, breathing loudly in your ear.

But then again, he could be right.]

III: 'That's no moon ~~anymore'~~

[Returning to base isn't an overly joyous voyage: aggression still lingers where a planet-- and its moon-- once stood, and tension amongst the passengers is high enough to be palpable, hanging heavy near the ship's aft where refugees and crew alike take shelter. Thoughts (to those sensitive enough to grasp them) numerous and telling, and Kylo Ren is no exception to the rule.

Particularly when his aren't as concerned with their objective as they are assuming credit for much of what's been done.

Purpose, necessity-- whatever he's craved throughout the years of his life hasn't lessened with relocation. No thoughts of unity snake through his mind, regardless of his symbiotic bond, but instead he still remains bound to the idea of greatness through action. That he is capable enough to bring order through chaos where so little else ever could. Transparent selfishness, and more beneath that. Brittle, angry, afraid--

He intends to find approval for what's been done, even at the cost of his broodmate's own satisfaction.

Seriously who let this guy be a team player.]

IV: WILDCARD!

Edited (I've been working all day what are words) 2016-02-04 08:28 (UTC)

[ ooc: Kel has a IOTA symbiote to enhance her physical capabilities. For any assumed CR, Kel adjusted very poorly to having other people in her head, and she's often at odds in what she's expressing physical to what she's thinking and feeling. She isn't sure how she likes the collective, it's not something she's ever encountered before, because she doesn't really see a need to understand only to accept the outcome. She's very determined about doing as she's told and never complaining whatever the work, she'll always accept and make sure her task is done. She's also 100% uncompromising about her morals, stick in the mud. Got a bad habit of getting far too invested in her missions, especially when they concern saving someone. ]

I.

[ She's frowning over the briefing, eyes flicking over the words quickly. A finger tapping at the side of her thigh where she's sat reading it, slight indications of mood as she finishes it off and flicks the papers down again. There's a ripple of sheer displeasure at what she reads. Curls her from the inside out, sets something firm. ] They're heartless.

[ Straightens it out though, as her back goes straight and eyes go up to stand up, nodding her head to said commander in acknowledgment and acceptance of the mission, and turns to go with the others milling out of the room. Turning briefly to whoever might be beside her. ] Are you going to see the ships? I'll come with you.

[ It'll be good to see what they're working with before they head off in them. Standard preparation, but she's got a particular stiffness about seeing this through. ]

II. a

[ It's times like this, that the extra strength comes in handy. She's looking over the panels, and she can understand most of them these days but she's no where near the levels some of the ROTA symbiote enhanced are at adapting quickly or reading situations are these days, but she's not exactly here right now to be clever. She's here to buy time. She looks around once more, at whoever might be beside her, and shrugs. Then she unslung the long pole arm from her back, settling it into a grip to drive down. They hadn't said how to stall for time, just the more it, the better. Nothing for it, then? Breaking it seemed like a good enough plan.

So she turns to whoever is closest, gesturing to the wires and the cooling vents. ] Shall we?

II. b

[ The place is a maze of tunnels, platforms, small control rooms, and larger open floors, and for the most part, the railings help when they step over the pits of lava, open and gaping through metal grids, keeps the worst of the prickling feeling back. She manages just fine, and it's been years, she tells herself, she had climbed Balinor's needle and a dozen other things besides that, since she'd gotten her symbiote. Having the other mental connections helped, not her only option and could manage it by herself but it's... nothing she would turn down, when she makes the mistake of looking down as she walks between two elevated points. It's instant, and feels the small oh no in her mind as her head seems to turn over itself and her stomach drops through her feet. She can feel the metal grate under her feet, looking to it for reassurance but it's not helping as much as she'd like. The heat comes like a solid wall, prickling the back of her neck, her forehead with sweat. She sucks in a brief breath trying to get her head working again, but for a second, she's transfixed by the height.

How high up are they, asks the morbid voice. Had to be a few hundred feet, maybe a thousand. What if the metal melted through, or the destabilization of the planet caused it to tip and she went over the edge? Would her skin sear first, or would her body catch on one of the jagged rocks? Her vision swims a moment as without wanting to, she thinks on it. The thoughts are loud, clambering over the top of saner ones that she clings to as she forces one foot in front of the other. She can work through it, keep moving so she's not just stuck like she used to be when she was younger.

It's hard to pry it out by herself though - but she's not alone in her head these days. So it comes out with a prickling edge. She needs to hear something else right now, other than her own mind. It's not the first time it's happened, and it's where she relies hardest on this -- connection. ]

Anyone? Update? [ Garbled perhaps by distance, and the rush of unbidden vertigo she can't help, but she's not too fussed at the moment who responds to her. Distraction in conversation, or a calmer mind to brace against. ]

III.

[ She settles into somewhere local in the intermediate waiting time. Starts out sitting at somewhere to eat. Nursing a drink, dragging it over a period of time, but it's probably nostalgia that she ends up feeding the strange dragonbirds. She misses her sparrows, for more than just their intelligence and use as sentries, missed the mornings where they'd burrow into the warm spot in her bed when she crawled out of it. So it's a nice reprieve in between the work. Getting something that passed for jerky, and flung it to them, until she's got a few of them around her feet at a park bench. They squabble, and she fusses after them for it, after all, what was this to a griffon? Doesn't mind getting her hands midst them when they go to bite at each other. Snatching the piece that two of the dragonbirds were fighting over and easily rips it two, tossing one each way between them. ] There is more than enough, share.

[ Treats them like they can hear her just fine. Another old habit. Feel free to join her on her bench. ]

IV. WILDCARD
[ Toss whatever you feel like at me! Kel will be keeping her nose down to her work and mingling. If you're unsure, feel free to PM me on this account! ]

Edited 2016-02-04 11:05 (UTC)

((ooc: as i don't have anything in her journal yet, i'll give a little tidbit about reva. she's a mage that's possessed/fused with a spirit of rage which grants her immunity to high heat and fire, as well as manipulation over heat. she can melt through just about anything. she also has a bad temper. anyone using telepathy on her won't pick up on multiple voices as she and the spirit are one being with one voice, one thought process.))

»» ONE.
[Reva snorts as she holds up the thermal suit. She doesn't need this. Face-melting temperatures are nothing, she is the walking embodiment of face-melting temperatures. She's not actually paying much attention the debriefing as irritation comes over her. Fire can be seen dancing beneath her skin, as if it's in her very veins. Her eyes flash a little brighter.

They take her and don't bother to think about her abilities?

No, she has to keep calm. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath and counts to ten. She slowly lets it out, looking less like she's going to go up in flames. The suit could be useful, something she can wear and not set on fire. But the sleeves have to go. She searches for the seams and tugs at them, trying to pull the sleeves free but it seems the suit is made of tougher stuff.]

Anyone got a knife?

»» PLAN, WHAT PLAN.
[She's not interested in rescuing some empress. She's perfectly happy to destroy things, however. To act as a distraction. A cocky girl, barely out of her teens, not up for following directions but more than happy to cause some havoc. The lava and heat is like home for her. She's comfortable and in her element, quite literally.

She moves easily through and over the lava, like it's a part of her. Moving from one place to another, destroying this or that. Hopefully she's not destroying anything they'll need.]

Edited 2016-02-04 11:29 (UTC)

(( BAMBI IS A RHO TYPE, and for the purpose of this TDM, her symbiote-given ability is all about the power of manipulation and suggestion. That is, she is able to implant an idea or a desire into a person's head and it festers the mind like an itch that needs to be scratched. However, since it is a low level skill, it really is more of a suggestion than a proper charming ability, meaning that whether it works or not depends on the person's will and mood - for example, she might suggest a nap, but if the person drank a gallon of coffee, it really won't work. As for pre-established CR, Bambi seems to have adjusted eerily well to the symbiote, but in reality it is a forced façade as she hates having people inside her head, especially considering her natural powers are exactly the opposite, being able to keep mind-readers out of her brain. However, as time goes by, she seems to be able to control her emotions and project different feelings than those she actually holds, and as such she seems... agreeable to the symbiote. She is also a natural liar and all about fake-sweetness and fake subservience, always pleasant and rarely angry on the outside, even if she is boiling on the inside. ))

( ONE. ) GEAR ME UP, SCOTTY.

[ The mission is not of her interest, but completing it is. To seem complacent and obedient has never been problematic for Bambi. In fact, she has always been a servant all her life. It is a second nature to pretend to be one still. Even with a symbiote overpowering her lies more often than not (and way more often than she would like to admit), Bambi can still serve and seem content in doing it. Like it is her sole purpose, to be told what to do. And to some people, that would be a damaging thing to their pride and their precious dignity, the image they have to uphold. For Bambi, it is a mean to an end. To what end specifically, she is still carving it and designing it for herself.

But she tries not to think about it, not when in the vicinity of others. The network of the brood is too extent and too dangerous to venture in such thoughts when not isolated. Practising to keep others at bay is a careful process and one she does not jump head first into. She is patient. She is calculating.

Right now, she keeps her mind on the mission so that any rude and curious broodmate that peeks into her mind unannounced hears only the repeat of the debriefing as she puts on the thermal suit. Adjusts the gloves slowly, looks them over. Ugly thing, but vanity is something she has found that lacks sorely aboard Station 72. Honestly, she misses the pretty dresses and beautiful things from home. Maybe she will indulge next time they come across actual civilization. And maybe, since they are going in to dirty mines, she might come across a pretty diamond. Wouldn't that be rich?

She tries to reach for the last bit of the zip of the thermal suit, but it seems a little too problematic. She turns to the person next to her and smiles, all sweet. ]

Could you zip me up?

( TWO. ) THIS IS (NOT) A DRILL.

[ Bambi is not a fighter. Never was, not much for violence - not by her own hands, at least. She does not flinch at the sight of blood and much of her plans for revenge were all about bathing in that of her enemies, but she is not a warrior. She is more of a chessmaster. But not being a being fit for fighting does not mean she cannot hold her own. Or at least have other skills that can help her. So while her skills do not rely on strength, Bambi is not so helpless to not be able to look after herself in other clever ways.

She goes after those she feels are... more inclined to take up a fight. They can act as a shield for her. She is also capable to being light on her feet and quite lithe when necessary - she only exerts herself when necessary, after all. So when she is separated from the group she has chosen to stick close to, she curses her bad luck (internally) and takes the path that is hidden. The long way around, but the safest. Less people, less surprise attacks. Narrow passages. A step that is not calculated can end in a very badly bruised ankle. But she takes her time, pulling herself along the mines, carefully tapping into the brood to navigate to whoever's closer.

And once she finds them, she announces her presence carefully with a soft sound, dropping to the floor in front of them. Smiling, as always. ]

I got separated from my group. I'll join you instead. [ It is spoken like she is asking for permission, but gently nudging them for the acceptance of her presence. Like there was no other way. ] Think we are close to the drill?

( THREE. ) DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL'S BEST FRIENDS

[ Civilization. The only interesting part of this mission. Made more interesting by the fact she was able to score one pretty ring from a weak-willed merchant. All she had to do was suggest, for his benefit, for him to give her the prettiest ring she herself picked to give him some free publicity. After all, she wore it well. People would surely question her where she got such a great piece of jewellery and he would get a bigger influx of clientèle.

At least while this desolate rock still existed.

Leaning on a rail, she turns the ring back and forth on her hand, holding it up and generally taking good appreciation of the pretty rock in the centre of its intricate design. The presence that suddenly comes loom over her shoulder does not bother her as she feels the symbiote inside stir peacefully, the biological ping of someone from her brood. She hates the feeling of warmth and calm that washes over her every time it happens. Makes her want to throw up and rip apart the thing she hosts inside. But she holds those feelings at bay. Chokes them into the pit of her stomach. Tries to overpower in a confusing mess of calm and pleasantries, bubbling anxiety underneath.

She does not look at the other, too focused on the ring. It is pretty. Materialism calms her down a little bit. A vice that comes attached to the Suit she belongs to. ]

How much longer?

( FOUR. ) WILDCARD

Have a better idea? Somewhere else that is not in this rock? That's cool, hit me up. Just ∎∎∎∎∎∎∎ tag me.

((OOC- Some things you might know about Prince:
Feel free to peruse his about for a general overview.

From an interaction standpoint, Prince would be the guy teaching you how to not tear your muscles free of your bones with your new-found strength. He is, in many ways, an incredibly sour gym teacher. He's Iota-specialized, and is skilled in most forms of combat, although he himself prefers to wield a fancy space halberd, but won't have told your character what his ability is. He's very mentally quiet as well, and, in general, would not have attempted any mental communication with your character. Which doesn't mean he can't hear them and doesn't find it immensely annoying. If your character asks about the Nest and the Hive, he'll answer, a bit, but in the manner of a salesman who doesn't believe in what he's selling, and after a certain point, if you get to theoretical, metaphysical, or philosophical he will attempt to foist them off on Cathaway.

Your character almost certainly would get the impression he doesn't particularly like them, especially if they are loud, rude, excited about the Hivemind, or self-centered. Even if they're not, he's not a friendly guy, although he never yells and does give out praise in training when earned.))

1 - Mission Start

[In the most technical sense the ships, unnatural grey and black things that they are, fall under Prince's responsibility, but for all that is true he seems perfectly content to leave Cathaway to final checks. It might seem lazy or haphazard from someone else, but from what you know about Prince, very little about him suggests that. What it may suggest instead is that he thinks her skills are better suited to the responsibility than his own.

Instead, he is to be found standing slightly in front of the flock of vessels, arms crossed tightly over his chest. The same sleek jumpsuit and cape he wears when traversing the halls are essentially unchanged from the average day, excepting the fact that his finger is tap, tap, tapping against his arm. A shocking display of impatience.

However he is available and willing to answer questions about the suit you were given, whatever weapons or supplies you were requisitioned, or to answer to what he thinks may happen on the planet and the moon you're destined for.]

Edited 2016-02-04 16:23 (UTC)

SPECS: Carla is an IOTA specialist with some higher level control over cell production: both hers and yours. This gives her kind of a 'healing'/flesh manipulation power, but it's likely to hurt and she's likely to misbehave when using it. Right now it's not that threatening because she is a newbie, but eventually I hope to make it deeply unwise to allow her to touch you, ever.

Joined the Nest so that she wouldn't die alone on her post zombie apocalypse planet, is of two minds about the symbiote. Deeply resents its pressure on her individuality but she also craves power and control and excitement. She can be very guarded but can also be extremely inappropriate and invasive with her telepathy. She probably wants to bone you and isn't that sad about you knowing it...

Cool for pre-established CR/broodmates/etc. I am the most flexible.

ONE • DEBRIEF: NOT AS SEXY AS IT SOUNDS
[ She prepares for the mission, because it's something more interesting to do than roam the station, but her feelings about it are clear enough to anyone near enough to hear her thoughts: ]

This is all too little too late.

THREE • HURRY UP AND WAIT - vague body horror
[ Well, really. If this entire planet is going to be vaporized anyway, she may as well make good use of the resources before they're gone. It's not that difficult to smile and seduce some silly young boy in the market, to lure him off into a dark side street where she can't be seen. The caress to his face seems gentle enough until his flesh begins to twist under her fingertips. It's minute, but painful and her eyes narrow in concentration.

Maybe she can seal his mouth shut before he starts screaming? ]

FOUR • INTO THE WILD BLACK YONDER
[ She has been trapped on a decaying planet before. As the end of this planet's lifespan nears, she becomes increasingly more agitated, a wave of it that emanates out from her position; a twisting and intensity that seems like it will not end... Until suddenly it breaks and she is on the move.

She needs to take control. She needs her own assured way off this death trap. She incapacitates at merchant crew in a frenzy, unmindful of any damage she may do to herself in the process, and then she steals their ship, following the backwards drift of the planet to keep out of sight of the armada...

A.) Wanna get on this ship, do it!
B.) On a different ship and need some backup, bring it! ]

WILDCARD
[ #Yasssss ]

((RHO TYPE, Mack's ability is the super boring telekinesis. She can't lift anything heavier than her though, so that's... about 150 lbs on a good day, but she mostly focuses on detailed, precise displays of power (she could technically pull your eyeballs off your head but she hasn't tried). She gets oddly well with her symbiote, although that might be because she's already something of a composite being back in her world. Mack is heavily individualistic though, and has shown no interest to expand on her powers. People peeking into her mind by chance or mistake might find "a layer of silliness" that's basically her thinking about anything and everything. And butts. The lower one goes though, the darker the thoughts turn, and the most likely she'll kick your ass for it (maybe, probably). Don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong! She's a liar and a con artist, a thief and capable of babbling her way out of anything, although most of the times it goes impressively wrong, so she's obviously also an escape artist. Good thing she's a good person, right?))

[ II ] The root of (corporate) evil.

[ The lack of people truly makes Mack wonder if she got the right...planet? Probably? She has a long history of ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time, but all she can tell this is where shit's going down. The fact she's not getting shot at for trespassing is both good and bad at the same time. Eventually she does find the core, and the drill, and wow, she's totally in the right place, although you might also call it the wrong one if you consider it's going to implode soon.

Which brings her to the question of what to do now? Mack wanders around, checking bleeping boards and status reports on screens, but she's not entirely sure of how to proceed. Too much enthusiasm might make the whole thing explode, too little might activate some defense mechanism and trap her in there. Suddenly Mack wishes she had taken the time to, you know, waited for her team or something.

Eventually she finds some heat controls and starts cancelling it, noticing how the performance reports drop steadily, but they don't stop. She's just buying time here, which sucks. It's never fun when a world dies, even if it's a sorry piece of frozen rock.

A moment later she's hurling one of the chairs there into a screen. ]

Okay, that looks more like an effort.

[ III ] Catnaps at the end of the world

[ Downtime is downtime, no matter what's going down, even if it is an entire planet, a royal line and the lives of a bunch of poor aliens. Mack is fairly certain they're poor in every sense of the word, too. But what can you do when you have to wait? Usually Mack would be drinking her way into oblivion for the next few hours, but considering she needs to be sharp to probably fly them all out of there in one piece, she can't touch booze. Alien booze! What a loss, man.

So instead she can be found on a nearby rooftop, smoking some of the cigarettes she has on her person. Considering Mack always has a lot of them she might even feel inclined to share, if you ask nicely. And if you actually do find her; it's relatively easy to spot her if one considers the trail of smoke rising from the roof and the scent of the smokes she's working through.

And then convince her to share, of course. ]

[ IV ] By the seat of your pants

[ Summarizing:

Getting the ~~Empress~~ Princess on the ship? : Check
Using the cloaking device to exit quietly? : Check
Avoiding instant notice by playing it cool with other Bal ships? : Check
Going away without all hell breaking loose? : Yeah, about that... ]

Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Please buckle up, try not to vomit and enjoy the view as we try to not explode in a million tiny pieces of ship and good intentions.

[ Mack speaks in her usual goodnatured tone, but anyone that takes a closer look might notice she's pretty tense, actually. Which makes sense, considering all the explosions going on around them. Her hands fly on the controls, and the ship flies accordingly, evading and gaining speed with a level of skill that's difficult to reconcile with the chick that looks like the vapes on the daily in the pilot's seat.

The fact she's no longer being a smartass should be enough of an indication of how much of her attention just staying alive is demanding of her. Mack's innate skills make her the best behind anything that can be conducted, but that doesn't mean she's instantly comfortable doing so. That takes time, which they don't have right then. ]

Somebody please tell me we have weapons here, and that someone's using them.

[ Driving and shooting? Not today. ]

Also someone give me a back massage, or plot a escape course. Wherever your skills lie, no pressure. My back is killing me though.

[ V ] Wildcard

[ Wanna do something else? Just do it! ]

Edited 2016-02-04 22:19 (UTC)

[ooc: Julian will be Rho-enhanced on top of his already genetically-enhanced mental abilities. For assumed CR, he's been absolutely fascinated with the medical implications of this whole collective thing, and sickeningly pleased to mess with telepathy. He's probably gotten on some people's nerves with how happy he is to be right here in the front lines, studying something new, exploring while doing medicine.

Feel free to pick up thoughts/impressions in the narrative brackets. He's probably broadcasting all the time, cheerfully trying to connect with everyone.]

1. Debrief

You know, I've flown several Federation things, shuttles, ships, runabouts, but I've never actually gotten my hands on alien ship controls before.

[He's positively gleeful as he looks at all of the commands. Does he know yet what's thrust and what's self-destruct? No. But that's the exciting part about all of this. Anything can happen. He's actually here, on the real frontier, taking part, and it's even better than the Gamma Quadrant.

After a few moments of study and observation, combined with a peak under the console, he's pretty sure he's got the basics. It's amazing how quickly everything comes to him - he'd been fast before, but this? He can do so much good with this.]

I hope you didn't eat recently.

[It's delivered with a flash of a smile at whomever else has come in.]

3. Hurry Up and Wait

Do you think we can eat that?

[Julian's pointing to a foodstall, but he really doesn't need to because he's also projecting a telepathic image of it. Something on sticks is being cooked over a griddle, and while he's not the most adventurous eater ever, he's a little hungry and endlessly curious.]

Or maybe we could get one and feed it to birds.

[Waiting has never been his strong point, and that probably comes across through the telepathic link as well.]

Four: Into the Wild Black Yonder

[The glee and enthusiasm Julian has been radiating this whole time is gone, locked down. He's focused and intent as he leans over the controls, eyes darting to take in everything the displays say.]

No matter what happens, we're a trading vessel with goods that will spoil if we stay on the moon much longer.

[That meat he'd munched on earlier? Turns out it's common on the moon, but exported rarely because of how quickly it spoils even in the best storage units. This makes it a delicacy, and a few take the risk of transporting it just for the price it demands.]

Taltaka meat. We've made this run four times.

[His flying is good. But if they're caught, they're going to need that cover. It's refreshing, honestly, that he no longer has to hide his intelligence. That he no longer can. It's not a point against him here. But that does mean he needs to use every part of it.]

Any suggestions or alterations for that?

Edited 2016-02-04 21:30 (UTC)

[[ooc: Finn has been resistant to this entire symbiotic game. His physical abilities have sightly improved, but he won't be punching through walls anytime soon. Feel free to assume some CR.]

Two

Missions with no living enemies to shoot were Finn's preferred kind of trouble. Kept it easier to focus on the end goal in worlds where exactly which end of the moral spectrum they were actually on was less than clear. An ex-Stormtrooper knew better than anyone how misleading cut and clear mission reports could be. But stopping an entire moon from destruction was easy enough to get behind.

He'd requested a small squad, three to four others at most, and took point. Faster for a number of small groups to try and hit multiple points. He'd opted for the coolant system, betting any good engineer would have the drill set to shut down if that went down rather than risking the drill just going off course and still accomplishing its mission. He peaked his head (and his rifle) around a corner of the tunnel, then signaled his team to follow.

"What's the next turn?"

He'd left deciphering the map to the guy in the middle.

Three

He couldn't make his leg stay still. Even seated, his knee kept jiggling was the excess energy of waiting. He'd skipped the sightseeing and gone straight for waiting on the Empress. Or helping to wait on her, anyway. Protection he could offer, but hopefully one of his crew mates was better prepared for the diplomacy. Just telling a girl she needed to come with them if she wanted to live had almost gotten him blown up last time around.

Finn glanced over to the crew member at his side and, after clearing his throat, decided to check on that.

"Hey."

The mind talking thing was still too weird. He'd leave that for a real emergency.

Wildcard

[[Want to do something different with Finn? Hit me up with any situation and I will reply]]

Edited 2016-02-05 00:12 (UTC)

((OOC: Iota type, given super-strength that so far only allows her to punch clean through a wall. On top of that she brings from home psychic/medium abilities that range from reading thoughts (now redundant) to reading one's future in the palm of their hand. She also brings with her stuff such as psychometry and seeing things that shouldn't be visible.

Gerty's got a super potty mouth and ridiculous attitude on her, so I apologize beforehand. :'|))

ONE • BUT WHY THO

[She's walking around in her suit like it's both too big and too small all at once, taking one step far apart from the other, arms arched by her sides and a grimace like she just smelled something remarkably unfunny.]

Yo... we're supposed to wear this stuff? This shit's whack.

[So unhappy right now, why dis. She finally comes to a stop and tries to fuss with her hair and regret she doesn't even have a smoke.]

Could at least buy me a drink before y'all fuck me up like this, man.

THREE • AT LEAST IT ISN'T ACID

[She's got her arms crossed, looking around for anyone that might be trading anything interesting enough to get her attention. Gerty continues to make a charming (not) face at the things on display like she's not sure they taste good or will just kill you upon consumption. At least she looks focused, not dismissive, which is an improvement in itself, until a dragonbird flies by and deposits some poop directly on her head.]

Motherfu--!

FIVE • NICOTINE HOMESICKNESS

[It's the aftermath of the mission - everyone's tired as fuck, probably injured here and there, and fucked if she knows how she even feels right now. She just knows she got shit on her head and that wasn't even the worse of it. There will probably be groaning and moaning when she gets the chance to see the state of her face in the mirror, but for now the only comfort she can think of comes in the form of a white and orange stick.]

Man, if I could just have one cigarette. Just one. Y'know what I mean?

ONE /

[ Though it isn't the first time she's left base on a long journey home, it's a first on this one, and it's still a fresh feeling to have people to leave behind. When she'd torn out of the atmosphere on Jakku, she had only the opportunity cost of missing her parents to worry about, no goodbyes to speak of but something to pull her hastily back.

Standing in the docking bay for the stealth ships, she searches the crowd of both those who are shipping out and those who remain behind for the faces of her friends, a soft sense of loss in her eyes alongside the fire of determination that carries her onto this mission to protect the Empress. ]

FOUR /

[ The yoke of the ship is unfamiliar, and Rey can't quite keep the ship steady with the grace of the Bal pilots. Tense from the strain of the illusion, she stays firmly rooted in the cockpit, shields up, taking advantage of the invisibility for as long as it will carry her. The Bal ships might not be supposed to be out of formation, but they're a great deal faster than the freighter they'd passed up.

And she'll need it, as will the rest of those aboard the ship that's lifting off. ]

They've spotted us! [ There's acute dread in her voice, the kind of panic that is honest though not helpless, just quick to burst out with precisely what she can see as the display lights up with pursuing ships. Immediately, she drops out of stealth, pushing that power towards the thrusters to carry them faster in to the black hollow of space. ]

[ i. no, debrief doesn't mean start stripping ]

[ What he likes about this is that the mission parameters are straightforward.

There are some complications, naturally. Disabling the giant drill, dodging the enormous fleet, making sure the Empress gets out, you know, alive. But really it all boils down to that last bit. It's almost movie-like. Save the ~~princess~~ Empress, leave as fast as possible. Part of him wonders if there's a romance element to this movie turned real life, but that's slim to none. After all, there can't be with these tacky jumpsuits. He'd complain, but his suit is unfortunately not built for withstanding fluctuation in temperature.

So he shrugs it off and heads for the ships. This is where it gets hairy, he thinks, as he stares at one of them, hands held behind his back neatly. Turning to whoever happens to be slowing their pace near said ship, he quirks an eyebrow up, mouth curling in silent amusement. ]

I don't suppose you know how to fly this?

[ If it's like an airplane, he might manage. Otherwise, they might be out of luck. Or it'll be a wild ride. ]

[ ii. drill baby drill oh wait ]

[ The ride here had been something interesting and while he wasn't exactly airsick, that first jolt of anti-gravity but also ship-sustained gravity has him feeling...delicate. Well, nothing like being whisked off by an alien and bonding with a symbiote to spice things up. Swallowing, he concentrates on the task at hand.

There's a drill to disable and very little time to do it in. Ignoring the noise in his head, he considers his options. The best way to do this is to get to the coolant systems and freeze them through, but it'll take time and effort. Especially if it's of a material that has a low freeze point. Flooding the ventilation is another way to go about disabling it for a while, but it might not buy them enough time to get the Empress and leave. Either way, standing around isn't going to get them anywhere. ]

Let's go. I've got an idea.

[ v. wildcard ]

[ got something you wanna throw my way? go for it! ]

( OOC: For the TDM Jack will just have the basic skills provided by the symbiote. If assuming CR, it should be noted that he's not so into this hive mind deal and hasn't been since arriving at Station 72. He keeps himself closed off telepathically as often as possible and doesn't enjoy intrusions on his thoughts, but when he does use it he finds it difficult to stop poking where he shouldn't on others. Broodmates are free to take bits and pieces of what's going on in his head from my brackets, though it will likely come off as somewhat garbled and fleeting. He will have introduced himself to anyone and everyone as Captain and holds to this title even though he has no authority as one in the hive. )

☠ I. debrief

[ Freedom. That's what a ship is. The ability to go anywhere in the world. When he was told he would sail ships amongst an ocean of stars, move faster than any wind could carry, and not just explore his world but many, it was temptation even his wildest desires couldn't resist. He also may have been a tad drunk when the accord was agreed upon.

Ironically, it came at the cost of his freedom. He's not going anywhere he wants to anymore, and even if he could, space is infinitely more vast than the open sea, and Jack knows he's still got a lot to learn. But hey, at least he still gets to captain a ship. Or he does as long as he's steering one, right? He's still getting the hang of everything else on these significantly updated vessels, and this Bal one is new to him. ]

On deck you scabrous dogs! Hands to braces! Er... hands to... thruster checks! This vessel got an anchor to hoist? Hoist it!

[ He's pushed back the seat of the cockpit to stand at the helm while gruffly shouting orders. And the helm is... much smaller than he's used to. He looks down his nose and wrinkles at it. He's ~~skimmed~~ read the manuals, gotten a taste for piloting in practice and on a handful of small missions already, and still he cannot get used to the look of these vessels. It's all wrong, the feel is all wrong. It's enough to momentarily distract him from shouting more orders he shouldn't be giving in the first place. ]

☠ II. hurry up and wait

[ The empress has been taken aboard safely and the palace is vacated. Not aboard his vessel though, because Jack has elected to stay behind a while longer. Just long enough to make sure everyone's secure on the way out... and to swipe whatever valuables he wants from this unprotected castle.

He's strolling through the rich corridors at a pleasant jaunt, already adorned with a sparkling tiara, no less than twelve long strands of pearls round his neck, and a scepter tucked into his belt. There's also a large decorative basin under one arm that he keeps filling with trinkets at he passes them by. So far he's up three sets of silver cutlery, a couple of chalices embedded with emeralds, an idol with rubies for eyes, an ivory comb, and a golden candelabra sans candles.

All of this is immediately dropped with a loud and ringing clatter and scattered unceremoniously on the floor when Jack wanders past an open door near the royal kitchens. A wine cellar. But not just any wine cellar; the biggest, most expansive wine cellar the pirate has ever seen. Bottles up to the ceiling and barrels stacked high as a mast, enough liquor to sail on through were it emptied. Any broodmates still lingering through the halls will undoubtedly hear the chorus angels singing in his head. He's positively giddy as he starts pulling bottles. ]

☠ III. into the black yonder (bring me that horizon)

Y'think they'll let me take her for keeps?

[ It's asked as Jack gently caresses the brassy control panel of the cockpit, just delicately enough to not switch anything by accident. The Bal ship he came to the empire moon with was abandoned, left behind in favor of commandeering a freighter. It's older but that's where it's charm lies, as well as with a decently sized captain's quarters and plenty of space for cargo. Not to mention it's smooth taking off, fairly fast, though definitely not fast enough to outrun the armada poised for attack just above.

It isn't until he's fast approaching said armada that he also asks- ]

Also, any ideas as to how we're gettin' round them?

[ He really just wanted to take the ship. Hasn't given it much thought beyond that, which he's steadily starting to realize and regret. The royal wine binge he went on hasn't quite worn off yet, and his thoughts are still quite muddled. Who even let him fly? ]

☠ IV. wildcard

[ Wildcard option! Feel free to PM me here to plot something, or just go for it! ]

[ ooc: hux has all the basic powers that come from the symbiote! he hasn't exactly been taking well to having his thoughts essentially broadcasted, so he tries to keep a tight lid on all of that. for anyone assuming CR– he's as stiff as freshly starched shirts and friendly isn't really in his dictionary. moreover, he's a general, so he's annoying with orders or requests and still kind of expects them to be followed. ]

[ i. debrief ]

[ The briefing is informative, succinct.

But he wishes, very much so, that he understood the military hierarchy of either side. Their tactics here display their ruthlessness, so he knows they will spare no one if they can help it. However, if he could get patterns... well, no matter. Again, he's sinking into habit. The title of General sits on him like a cloak that he will not shrug off, no matter how long he happens to be in this arrangement.

Once they're dismissed, he immediately goes for the docking bay, a strange sense of nostalgia creeping up his spine as he looks at the ships in a row. If he closes his eyes, he could imagine tie fighters, gleaming and ready. He doesn't, even if the urge is strong. Quick, efficient steps take him to one of the ships and he wastes no time addressing whoever might be gawking. ]

If you know how to pilot, I want you in that cockpit. I'll be your secondary. If you don't, strap in, time is ticking.

[ And with that, he brushes past, heading for the ramp up onto the craft. ]

[ ii. hitting rock bottom ]

[ When it comes down to a race on technology and how fast one can disable it, Hux feels like this is something he can take in hand. His own rise to power had been based on how much tech he could develop and make use of. Push this project, stall that one, take apart this other one to make it better. Studying the schematics of the drill has given him a better idea of how it can be disabled, though going by himself is out of the question.

It is, after all, an active piece of equipment. No use in making this more dangerous by doing something stupid and rushing in by oneself. So, he turns to whoever is closest once they reach their destination, geared up and ready to go. ]

Coming?

[ It's less of a question and more of an impatient order. ]

[ iv. into the black yonder ]

[ Decision making is something that comes with the territory. Of being a General, of course. He'd been thinking in the downtime (sightseeing is not a hobby of his), considering the option of how they'll get off this doomed moon. There's the Bal ship they came on, of course. But, those are not the only ships available. Everything is grounded, thanks to the armada, so choosing which one will be least detected is what's at stake here.

In the end, he chooses the Bal ship. Military conformity is something he's used to, and unless he's forgotten everything in his training, he can understand a bit of where the fleet would be coming from. Blending will be hard once they break atmo, but he has some ideas on how they could get past with little notice.

Though, as he takes a seat in one of the pilot's chairs, he thins his lips at the darkening sky above. Bal isn't going to hold back. ]

The odds are certainly stacked. [ This is suicide. ]

[ iv. wildcard ]

[ if you've got another idea or prompt to throw this way, be my guest! ]

< ooc: well, since Slip was raised as a Stormtrooper he's kind of familiar with the whole uniformity idea but at least it wasn't an actual hive mind scenario, aha. Your character is more than welcome to have picked up on that sort of thing! Like all First Order Stormtroopers, he was taken from a young age away from his family and trained to be an effective soldier. Training involved burying empathy as much as possible so that their attachments wouldn't weaken them on the battlefield, regulated media, mandatory morale speeches, highly regulated diets, and intense physical, melee combat, and ranged combat training. go nuts, friends! and feel free to ask me questions on plurk or in PM if you'd like. >

i. got my orders (debrief)

[It's time to step out of the chatter in his head - he's read over the mission file, he's got all of his gear on, but he doesn't feel ready yet. Whatever's missing here, he can't quite put his finger on it, but when he tries to figure out he just finds himself getting pulled into the white noise of the connection with The Nest. The feeling that comes with it, the rightness of the idea that he could - should - let go and move with it snaps him back to seeing with his eyes and hearing with his ears. Back to tangible reality.

It's like the kind of nervous anticipation he'd have before a training assignment with 2187, Nines, and Zeroes. Maybe a moment of camaraderie is what he needs. A moment to feel beyond the symbiotic connection that he's not alone in this. ]

Nerves man. [He lets out a goofy-like exhale as he perches next to his fellow.] I never get used to that pre-mission feeling. [Excitement and dread just don't go well together, okok.]

ii. gotta be the perfect soldier (hitting rock bottom)

[He's been worried about this from the start, since this is the kind of mission where you split up and work together to achieve a common goal... but as individuals, which individuality is already a hard concept for him to begin with. Probably why he clings to what he does have so dearly, afraid to lose it completely.

But Slip is and has always been one who works best with direction from someone else. He's not a great problem solver, and that's not really a kind of trait that can be fixed by the training he had. They sure did try though.

He's so thankful when they split into twos instead of each going solo with the intent of covering more ground. He knows he can work as a good support system, and it just feels more right this say. More like this mission is being achieved with a unifying goal at hand.

Don't get lost, he has to tell himself, following his partner deep into the mining facility to the coolant systems. And he doesn't mean in the maze of hallways either.]

iii. wildcard

get jiggy with it or pp me at assbanditkirk and we can discuss a thing

debriefing the debris

Meet Jat in preperation for departure, though the thermal suit is received with a little bit of displeasure. He's use to scorching heat; his planet, Vrirs, is close enough to the system star that temperatures typically do not drop below one hundred even at night. Besides, his serpent-like DNA gave him a slightly scaled skin that enjoys soaking up light and storing it to regulate his own body temperature.

If you happen to be from his brood, you'll get a mindful of slippery S mutters and some faint hissing that doesn't surface out of his mouth. If you're not from his brood, no worry; you are spared most of the suffering of a snake-ish alien. To you, he'll probably sound like a noise-filled television station.

the waiting game

It should be hard to talk to the locals knowing what they know, doing what they're doing, but carrying on minimal conversation doesn't seem to bother Jat.

He meanders about the trading port, looking things over while actually keeping a watchful, black eye on everything else.

"Peculiar," is what he lisps about the strange dragonbirds, one poor birdy soul stuck in a cage along the trading post, waiting to be picked out as a pet--or, worse, butchered for white meat.

space hijacking

Vrirsians, like humans, have limited technology for space traveling. They really haven't been any further than their neighboring twin planet, Zura, so piloting an alien vessel isn't one of Jat's fortes.

But he's got to get off, and so he's trying to scour the area for any more lingering Nest inhabitants, trying to barter with locals for a ride.

"Come on, Smoothflesh," he hisses, but they're not buying it. Not a taxi service. Not a chaufer. "Whatever you want. Anything."

wildcard him!

Edited 2016-02-05 17:38 (UTC)

(OOC: Nathaniel Horn looks like a regular 20-year old human guy - he is not. He's actually a shapeshifting alien who decided to bail from the boring and strict society of his planet and ended up on Earth. He then accidentally killed the real (human) Nathaniel and took his spot, and ended up caring about his new family and humanity as a whole. Here, he's going to be RHO type with basic skills on top of his shapeshifting abilities, and he's super not happy about having to fit in and conform like he had to do back on his planet. He's very open about being an alien, though, but will be wary about letting people into his head. Overall, he's a friendly, if somewhat joking and sarcastic guy who is outgoing and always willing to help.)

ONE

[He really could care less about this whole mission. Maybe it's a remnant of his race's doctrines that's making him think that - they always were the type to keep their heads out of other people's problems. If there was galactic wars raging around them, or diplomatic failures threatening to ruin alliances across the galaxy, his race would just twiddle their many thumbs and hope that it would all pass over quickly. They had nothing to worry about, personally. In the eyes of the other races, they were just useless busybodies who had no precious resources to their name. Honestly, their planet could be blown apart the next day and nobody would miss it.]

[Nathaniel frowns as he stares out of the windows, watching the ships go past - there is a very real chance he could die in this mission, and he's not liking the thought of that one bit.]

What a mess. [He murmurs, before turning towards some other hapless person awaiting to be sent off. He gestures to himself, his mouth breaking wide into a grin - he can tell other people are nervous, and he wants to help with that if he can.]

Hey, tell me the truth. This thermal suit doesn't make me look fat, right?

THREE

[They may be on a super time-intensive mission where the fate of the empire hangs in the balance, but somebody seems to be ignoring that. There's a good flock of dragonbirds hopping and flapping around this young man, who seems to be enjoying himself immensely. Empire, shmepire. He has a bunch of new friends, here!]

...And I'm going to name you Roberta, and you look like a Steve, and you, you adorable guy, you just have to be...uh? Hm.

[He looks up at whoever is passing by, gesturing to one of the dragonbirds in front of him with a frown.]

Hey! What do you think I should name this guy? He looks like a Francis to me, but I'm not sure.

WILDCARD

[Nathanial can be found making fun of some of the other recruits by shapeshifting his face and voice accordingly (feel free to discover him making fun of you), lounging around doing nothing, poking his nose where it doesn't belong, or actually being a decent guy and helping to carry stuff/help people out/try to cheer people up. Whatever you want to do, I'm up for it!]

Edited 2016-02-05 18:29 (UTC)

( ooc: Gaige is a small angry anarchist who doesn't much like the idea of being part of a hivemind, but rather unfortunately, isn't the sort of person that ever really got the hang of putting mental walls up. Anyone whose been around her - broodmates especially, gets a mindful of her violence loving, chaos centered mind. She's got a ROTA symbiote that helps her build mechanical abominations, so being near her can be a bit of a headache. )

ii.

[ She's so many rooms in now into breaking things, and it's not really a question that she's bleeding from her own carelessness, that she's got a slightly too quick breath that isn't so much fighting, as it the exhilaration. It's not just that she's good at this, fucking over power hungry bastards ( at this point she's got a reputation to consider ) , it's that she enjoys this. They hadn't said what to do, they had just said break it. She does look at the map, to her credit, pours over the schematics as long as to pick out things that look vital and upload them to her HUD. Keep her on track when she gets stuck in it, because she knew without someone to keep her pointed she'd loose track. How the hell is she still alive at this point? Who knows. But she's good at keeping at it when she probably shouldn't be, and that'll hold until it doesn't - and when it doesn't she'll go down swinging.

Like always, there's no walls up, she's got a mind thrown wide open in her excitement, a huge grin on her face as she giggles. Up on the station, she gets eaten away a little bit, without a gun in her hand, she doesn't know who she is so much, playing nice too long isn't what she's good for. But down here? In the blistering heat of a planet tearing itself apart, with a war riding on their actions, that she knows how to wear. Her laughter, in her mind and out of her mouth, it's a tumult. Just a stream of jargon images, hum of something in her skin, and the high that comes off impending violence. Enjoys it, with every bit of her. Unslings her gun from her shoulder and swings it around in front of her as she walks through the door of some shiny control room. All cleaned metal, Hyperion shine if she didn't know better, and even if she does, it's enough a pull on old memories that it's easy to go it'd look better dirty.

and she opens fire into the control panel. It's fritz immediately. Red alarms start screaming off the walls. Her giggle gets louder as the small room echoes with the roar of the gun going of. Keeps going and going until the clip runs out, one or two has grazed her from the ricochet. Bleeding more and her ears are rattling and teeth are rattling with the echo of bullets firing.

If and when it attracts someone's attention from breaking a room that way, she doesn't bother stop, she just turns to her company and all sick and giddy behind the eyes as she unclips a grenade from her belt to toss it at whoever it is. ] C'mon, there's another control room. Wanna see if we can turn it into a crater?

iii.

[ Other people can do the talking to the Empress. She's all for just tossing the woman over someone's shoulder to just get it done. But since that apparently isn't a plan, she busies herself in the fancy apartments. Hey the planet is about to go up in one hell of an explosion. That makes everything is fair game, right?

In the scramble of the staff to pack and handle the sudden intrusion, she ignores them and starts going through whatever she can find in whoever's room this is. Pssh, nobility is just another word of bourgeois as far as she's concerned, they don't need this junk anymore anyway, not where they're going. Gaige though, Gaige has a college fund to consider. Or you know would have, and so she takes it for the proverbial version of her that would have gone to college had she not ended up so adept with guns, to steal whatever she can grab.

But despite the rushed way she does it - she's being quite methodical. She starts one side of the room, rifling through the draws, pulling things out and tossing it behind her when she decides she doesn't like it, or it's too big, or whatever makes it unsuitable. Making the room look steadily more and more like a bomb sight. At one point, she's pulling out someone's very fancy space future jacket. She snorts in amusement holding it up, eyeing the gold edging.

She can't help herself, she puts it on. It's like the morbid fascination of wearing Jack's face, she just can't help herself. Tugs it up and doesn't stop when it rips on her robotic arm a little. Turning back to whoever is in the room with her, and tosses another dress at the back of their head to get their attention. Sorry. ] Hey, what do you think?

► CLASSIFIED. max chaucer was a member of her galaxy's military force, comprised of people from many planets and many governments, so in some ways this isn't much of a change for her. except that also she's spent the last several months investigating what she believes to be corruption and deceit deep within that organization that led to the near death of her husband and subsequent dissolution of her marriage so. yeah. she isn't inclined to trust, nor she is all that thrilled about people able to get anywhere inside her head.

she is a RHO-TYPE, having gained the ability of psychometry, being able to pick up residual emotional and sense traces from things she touches. so far it's still quite surface, since she's been fighting the symbiotic relationship. Mostly things that can be picked up from her are a strong distrust of just about everything going on, but a willingness to help those in need.

TWO.

[ the first thing she does is make her way to the auxiliary stabilizer vents. engineering was one of her main specialties, if she can't figure out a way to sabotage these badly enough that it stops the immediate destruction of this planet she has failed basically all of her professors. she can be found here at the controls for them, working on opening different valves and directing channels so that the air flow will trigger alarms that will hopefully shut down parts of the operation at least temporarily. only long enough for the computer to ascertain that they aren't real threats, but she can stall that too if she's given enough time at this console.

there's an entire planet and moon to be saved here, it seems. that's something she can at least get behind. ]

FOUR.

[ piloting she can do as well, and that's something she's more familiar with at this point than even trying to bypass controls, the years spent with her Valkyrie something that come to her with a familiar hum to her fingertips and the movements, even in an unfamiliar ship. while there is a chance to explore an unknown world, all she can really feel right now is the urgency to ensure that she knows how this ship works well enough to fly it past an entire blockade. the controls aren't familiar but they at least seem to go along basic lines that she's used to, enough that she can sort them out.

that is where she can be found for the rest of the time until take off, sitting in the cock pit of the ship running checks and looking at computers as she determines what she knows and what she still needs to learn.

is there a stealth option? there should be a stealth option. ]

(( PARKER IS AN IOTA TYPE with the ability of enduring great impacts and recycling the kinetic energy for his own purpose. For pre-established CR, Parker is known to actively hate the symbiote inside him and isn't one of the . He comes from a world infected with the σ-virus (it is a fancy way of saying zombies) and he is infected himself, but he has antibodies in his body that push back the infection. However, they are only active for eight hours - twelve now, with the help of the symbiote - and so he is forced to take a vaccine that retards the disease. If he goes over the twelve hour limit, he starts to rot from the inside, first being internal bleeding and breaking of the skin, and also loses memories, becomes a little dumber and more animal-like. So far, he has avoided that and tries to keep that a secret. ))

( II. ) shut me down with a push of your button.

[ The inside of the mines is claustrophobic and too warm, even with the thermal suit on. Everything is too narrow and too dark, but it is a mission and Parker can use this opportunity to take his mind off the two foreign parasites inside his body: one that is trying to kill him, the other that is keeping him alive for its own selfish sustenance. A constant duality within and one that drives him mad more often than not when he lays awake at night, staring at the cold, metal ceiling of his quarters, trying to shut out all the buzzing thoughts, his, and others.

But here, in the mines, there is silence that he is thankful for, and physical exercise, which he focuses on. The vents are too small, but his lithe body is capable of squeezing in and follow through them, to find the proper places to sabotage. Too bad he was not the only one to think of it, and someone has already started to sabotage the air vents as well. As he crawls, his weight and movements unhinge the vent from his place.

There's a loud noise, something snaps and he yells in surprise as the vent gives out from under him. He falls, loudly, into the large room he was crossing. The air knocked out of his lungs with the impact, he coughs and shakes his head.

Hopefully he did not fall on anyone. Or maybe he did. Sorry. ]

( IV. ) We fly balloons on this fuel called love.

[ Parker doesn't like to take the dead man seat when there are vehicles involved. It is a bad habit. It is also something from a spoilt asshole. He is both when it comes to driving cars and motorcycles - and nowadays, starfighters and other assorted spaceships. It took him a little while to get used to the controls, but he would argue, if someone was to say that they are better and more experienced than him, that he could hardly get any better if he never takes the opportunity to pilot one.

But the Bal's vessels are all taken up and the only way to pilot something is stealing one of the small fighters docked in the harbour. Which he does. Hot-wiring something is more than something he feels comfortable with. Although, truth to be said, he much prefers hijacking a motorcycle than a spaceship. The adrenaline is so much better.

So, that's what he's doing. Hot-wiring a two-passenger starship so that he can get the hell out of this rock and back to Station 72, now that he has word the Empress has been taken to safety and the mission is over. He hears someone coming behind him and his hand is hot on his gun, leaning over the window and pointing it at--

Ah. That... looks like a familiar face. He frowns. ]

There's only space for one more. [ It's as close as "get in" that he will get. ] I'm driving.

( V. ) WILDCARD

If you hate all my starters, you should give me one. Let's play together. Amazing.

[RHO type, probably going to be gaining the ability to talk/integrate with machines/robots/ships, but for the moment has been taking a page from Finn's book and not really wanting to push it with the whole Hive Mind thing. That said, he's starting to find the telepathy useful...]

One: So you need a pilot.

Poe whistled lowly as he came up to the ship, reaching his hand out to run over the surface. It was alien to him, that was for sure. Like nothing he'd ever seen, or flown. But he liked it. Even if it wasn't built like the Republic's ships, he could still see the sense in it - still feel its usefulness. Stealth on its own was a new concept - he loved his X-wing but it wasn't exactly hard to spot, even painted black. So this - this was going to be fun.

And one more step to saving everyone back home.

"Right. Who's with me?" He said, turning to see who the lucky person in the co-pilot seat was going to be.

Two: Did someone mention blowing something up? I think someone mentioned blowing something up.

They zipped low through the atmosphere, the ship buffeted with the winds as he raced towards the nearest mine shaft on his schematics. But he needed all his attention for flying, at the moment, so for the moment his co-pilot was playing navigator.

"What do you think? Will this beast fit into the mine shafts? Or are we going in on foot?

Five: Wildcard, Baby. Hit me.

[ooc: TIME FOR YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE. Kerrigan will be Rho specialized, focused in telekinesis and telepathy. If you want to assume you are a broodmate of her's, that's totally kosher, but she has the ability to spawn small bug dinosaurs called zerg that will cause pressure and pain to anyone linked with her brood the longer they hang around and she trusts her ability to control them more than she trusts you and will have demonstrated that in the past. For pre-established CR, she will come off as very standoffish and closed off, even mentally. If you've tried to breech that mental barrier telepathically before, you will have most likely regretted it -- not necessarily because of how furious she will be with you, but because there's some NASTY ASS TRIGGERY SHIT in that brain. I have an old application of her's if you are more interested in learning more about her.]

Debrief

[There's likely more than one person within the group that is uncomfortable with the armor they're being made to wear, but Kerrigan has set to pacing the corridor while constantly rotating her shoulders as if it is somehow constricting her. The reality of the situation is that it is -- Ghost-class armor, however closely fitted to their bodies, was designed with material that allowed them to perfect the art of assassination while offering its own protection.

This? Not so much.

Space travel is normal -- the idea of being torn away from the Koprulu Sector at such a critical moment is infuriating, but she can't deny the idea of survival, of power to ensure that suffering would end by her hand. She needed the Nest as much as it needed her, as far as she was concerned -- and if she couldn't have all of the Zerg broods back under her control, using this was the next best thing.

But it resisted her, punished her for trying to take control of that which was not her's. That wasn't to say she would stop trying, but patience was something she'd been forced to learn long ago, and so her attempts to breech the greater Hive stopped (impossible, truth be told -- she doesn't believe it). Her mind was less present in daily activities and more focused on the task at hand, distant and aggressive somewhere deep in such a silent shell.

But somewhere along the line, she's about to collide with another, and manages to sidestep just in time. What remains in her place is a slightly irritated and glowing yellow stare beneath strange chitinous hair tied back into a ponytail.]

Watch where you're going.

In the Vents

[This is what Kerrigan is good at -- infiltration and extraction, everything the Ghost Academy had forced into her at such a young age. Getting into the vents is easy once the cooling systems are shut down. Wriggling into the central processing unit without a map to guide her? A little harder.

And here is where she has to rely on the Hivemind she can't control. Its impossibly uncomfortable, letting people so close to her mind, but there's a jammed fanblade on one end (she'd tried to pop it off numerous times beforehand) and potential collapsing machinery surrounding her. Her choice is to continue to resist and potentially perish for it or take a risk and try to block others from getting more out of her than she wants to give.

Her mental communication is refine, clear as a bell. Unsurprising to anyone who has worked with her before -- she was born a psionic and later transformed into her own Hivemind, after all.]

( I've been cut off. A little farther, and I'll be at the target. I'll need extraction assistance once its done before this thing goes up in smoke. )

[Relying on others to safeguard her obviously has her in a mood -- the transmission is curt and tense as ever.]

Wildcard

[Wanna crack this egg? She likes people who don't want to get to know her, people who are capable, and people who aren't going to ask about her weird insect hair.]

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steve rogers | marvel cinematic universe

anakin skywalker | star wars

cathaway | rho-specialized npc