StarCraft: Infection [Begins]

[Crystal Tears]

Welcome, to the Confederate Planetary Travel Database.
Choose Destination:
[. . . Mar Sara]
[Searching… Searching…]

Mar Sara
A backwater, arid world that has resource value, however, the planet has not been given much attention due to its sister planet Chau Sara, being far superior. Mar Sara is not an ideal venture world, Confederate political personal are advised to stay away.
Ticket Price:
[Commercial: 1,000 C]
[First Class: 4,300 C]

Purchase Commercial Flight for 1,000 C?
[Yes]
[No]
[Please be patient while purchase is transferred…]
[… Funds rejected.]

Travel Advisory: Do to recent terrorist activity, Mar Sara, along with Chau Sara, are off limits to civilian travel. We are sorry for any inconvenience…


Personnel Database
- Please note, the rank stated in this list is the real military, if applicable, ranking. Not their experience.
- Characters that are inactive please do not interact with until the user of said character returns.

1) No.88 / Specialist / Crystal Tears
- Active
2) O. Moragat / Corporal / Bear
- Active
3) L. Eos / Militia / Asilynne
- Inactive
4) E. Vasaile / Civilian / Mew Master
- Active
5) H. Shawnesee / Militia / Blue62
- Active
6) R. Cornelius / Head-Scientist / Blademaster
- Active
7) T. Andrews / Sergeant / Samchu
- Active
8) C. Valaek / Private / Darth CookieMonster
- Active
9) I. Vethrenia / Flight Captain / Vethrenia
- Active
10) S. Kaarn / Private Second-Class / Crazy Elf Boy
- Inactive
11) 'The Package' / Pichu Luver
- Active
12) D. Bryant / Corporal / ChobiChibi
- Active
13) L. De'Marko / Civilian / Ayeun
- Active


Name: Caden Shepard, but is known as Shepard, No. 88 or 88 (her Ghost Number is 88174.).

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Rank: Captain

Class: Military - Ghost, trained in operating Wraiths, Banshees and Vultures. She is able to pilot dropships, though their cumbersome form and lack-luster speed makes her agitated when doing so.

Appearance: Caden stands at 5’8’’, with a slim, athletic build common to women in the Ghost program. Her lithe frame, combined with her dark brown hair and hazel eyes makes her fairly attractive. Her suit (like hell am I gonna describe that XD) is a fairly new design, instead of the standard blue psi-sensitive material, hers is a deep red, and her face is usually hidden behind a full mask, which also has a tendency to distort her voice a tad.

Personality: Caden is a rather introverted woman, and is concerned only for her well being and the mission at head. She has a snarky, irritated disposition when talking to anyone, especially civilians. Though some suspect that the irritation some claim to have heard, is from her mask distorting her voice, making her sound much more robotic and by extension, condescending. Her ghost training and experiences in the program had caused her morals to become jaded and confused, but many expect that of trained killers. Despite her neural inhibitor making her far more loyal to the Confederacy then she would be of her free mind, Caden has managed to form opinions that the Confederacy would see as dangerous (though these opinions she keeps to herself). Shepard is cunning and ruthless, she keeps her mind on the mission (though that isn’t entirely her own doing), and has no time for weakness.

Home Planet: Shiloh

Weapon: C-20 Prototype, an advanced form of Sniper Rifle she received from Lt. Colonel Warfield for a particular mission she completed. The prototype’s scope shows info on the target, such as weak points in armor and range.

Relationship(s): Has been working as Cornelius's bodyguard and assassin for years now.

History: Caden was swept up into the ghost program when she was 11, and went through harsh, torturous training that resulted in her personality now. She had briefly worked with the infamous ghost No.24, or ‘Kerrigan’ before she defected and joined the terrorist organization Sons of Korhal. Most of the woman’s life was robbed from her, so Caden has no real notable memories besides missions.

Recently, she was stationed on Mar Sara to ensure the safe transport of some valuable cargo. The shipment was moved to Outpost 29 from Backwater Station, just before it fell. Caden has been on edge ever since, but she has loyally protected the shipment and prevented any infiltration into the military facility at the outpost. Though seeing the new reinforcements provided by the Confederacy, doesn’t know whether to be comforted or uneasy.

Her rank is Specialist, which is in between sergeant and lieutenant, and is a rank reserved only for ghost operatives. While she has to obey most orders a Lieutenant (or any other ranking officer gives), she doesn’t disclose operation details to anyone except those expressly involved, or when there is no point in keeping it secret any longer.

Other: Some medics suspect her outward irritation and agitation in some situations, is a result of interference of the neural inhibitor. Caden has sometimes expressed that maybe the newly emerging ‘memory wipe’ idea is better than the alternative of being openly influenced on the field. She often falls prey to headaches, and at times, migranes that make functioning difficult. None the less, she does it, somehow.


Veeto’s Cantina, Mining Outpost 034501 or ‘Haven’s Way’
12.16.2499
22:33

“You heard anythin’ from Backwater?”

Veeto’s Cantina was dirty, smoky and all around not the nicest place to be. The miners were a grimy sort, not at all friendly towards the Confederacy, so their appearance matched as such.

They had chosen (though they would claim more like ‘forced’) to mine in a deep raven, with mineral deposits all along the sides. The difficulty was the ground itself was hard and ridiculously challenging to mine, along with the narrow ramps barely wide enough to allow passage for one SCV, mining often was met with disaster.

Timothy had died today, so people had gathered in the cantina to drink to his not-so-grand memory. His SCV had malfunctioned and charged at the crystals, impaling the mechanism on the sharp, jagged shards. Timonthy had been killed instantly.

So naturally, they went from speaking fondly, or not so fondly of ‘Timmy’ to noting the eerie radio silence from Backwater Station. Now only two remained however, the rest leaving an hour ago.

“Nah, nothin’ George.” Bob answered, finishing his drink. “Confederates say it’s them terrorists… Whaddaya call ‘em? Sons of Korhal?”

“You believe that crap?” George growled in response. “Them Confed’s are all liars.”

“One of them ghosts passed through here, couple days ago. Before the last transport.” Bob noted, scratching his chin. “Whole escort with ‘er. Tanks, marines, and then some large truck.”

“Ya think that was-“

A sharp screech then a pop interrupted the miners. They were quiet for a moment.

“What the fuck was that?” Bob stood up, nearing the door of the bar.

“No clue.” George got up, moving towards the dusty, mud stained window. “Kinda late for mining eh? They didn’t lift the restriction did they?”

“No they-“

There was flashes of lights and more ‘pops’, followed by a few screams. Bob stepped back, stunned.

“That’s gunfire!” He looked at his friend. “Someone’s attackin’!”

“Who the hell be attackin’ us?” George couldn’t deny the proof but it just seemed so-

There was a bang from behind them, which made them turn slowly.

“What was that?”

“Dunno, back door, I ‘spect.” Bob gulped, and pulled his revolver from its holster. “Did Jesse leave?”

“Not that I know…” George spoke in a hushed tone, revealing his own pistol. “Think its terrorists?”

A deep, hellish growl came from the front door; the very door both of them had turned their backs too. Hot breath danced on the back of Bob’s neck, and something sticky and wet dripped underneath his frayed collar.

“No George,” Bob took in a sharp, nervous breath. “I dun think it’s terrorists..”

Outpost 29
12.17.2499
09:27

“Sir, you don’t understand…” Shepard was trying to keep her temper in check; it wasn’t wise to snap at one’s superiors, especially not those capable of sending military aid to the facility. “There’s been no word from the miners of 034501. They’ve fallen silent, like Backwater.”

“88, I am going to remind you who’s in charge.” Duke’s voice was just as frustrating over the comm as it was in person. Shepard regretted instantly that Duke was in charge of safeguarding the Sara sisters, and not Warfield. “There is nothing to be concerned about.”

“And I am going to remind you, that any scout we have sent to check on either 034501 or Backwater, hasn’t returned. Something is coming General, and while you may not give a damn about the Outpost, please remember that the reason you are here, is sitting a few rooms over from me.”

“88 I am growing tired of your blatant disregard for authority...”

“Sir-“

“Enough 88, Alpha Squadron is heading to Chau Sara, a small detachment, Bravo team, is being sent to your location. Prepare the package for transport, and at 06:00 tomorrow, you are authorized to leave.” She could see Duke’s scowl in her mind perfectly. “No exceptions.”

“… Yes Sir.”


Outpost 29, wasn’t the worst place Shepard had been to in her career, the Ghost Academy was probably the worst. However, that being said, 29 didn’t exactly rank highly in comparison to places on worlds like Tarsonis, Moria, Shiloh, and even Chau Sara. Partly because the planet itself was a barren wasteland, much like Chau, however Chau Sara was at least interesting. Shiloh the woman had a soft spot for, and Tarsonis and Moria were just so chaotic that there was always something to do.

Mar Sara, and in particular this settlement: Outpost 29, was boring.

It consisted of typical shady housing that any neglected Confederate mining outpost would have, it had two bars, a couple of warhouses, one old, decrepit barracks, and a modest, if profitable mining venture in refining vespene. The gas here was particularly potent, which had paid for the massive, metal walls guarding the outpost and it’s very own starport. It also had a military facility near the ‘back’ of the outpost, farthest from the gate.

Which now was her home.

Just grand.

“Where’s the Professor?” Shepard questioned, looking at one of the other control tower monitoring staff.

“In his lab…” The man answered quietly, looking at her nervously. A ghost operative was intimidating just on principle, but Shepard wore her full gear all the time. The mask always seemed to be glaring, like she was calculating another kill. “What do you think happened to the other settlements?”

“Nothing.” Her cold reply ended the conversation quickly as she turned and headed for the elevator. “If there is any word from either Backwater or 034501, alert me immediately.”

“Yes ma’am.”


The lab itself was located in the middle of the entire facility. Around it, were numerous rooms hiding its appearance on maps, and in fact there was only one way into the lab, but two out. The entrance door worked normally, however, to Shepard’s knowledge, there was another hidden door, which only worked one way.

Admittedly, knowing him, there are probably at least one hundred ways in and out of that room. She mused, watching as the doorway hissed and slid open, revealing a room with cool steel walls and a white, tiled floor. Medical tables were neatly placed in rows; all of them void of bodies save for one that had a pale corpse with a toe-tag resting on it. The west wall had large empty tubes lined side-by-side, though when in use they would fill with a green substance. Past the medical, scientific and other contraptions in the room was a simple desk, and sitting at it was the Professor.

“You’re late.”

The woman frowned, and moved from the entrance of the room towards him, pausing only when she was next to the body. The lower half was covered by a white sheet, but the top wasn’t.

She recognized the man, and she recognized the fatal knife wound to the neck. Shepard had been the one to kill him.

“What are you doing with him?”

She didn’t know if the man glanced up from his work or not. “Ze dead haff uses.”

This was a concept that Cornelius’s had been trying to teach Shepard for as long as they had been working together. That everything, dead or not, had a use, and if it benefited his research in any way, then it was worth the time dragging back.

She hadn’t dragged the dead man anywhere; she had killed him here, in the facility, while he was attempting to sneak into Cornelius’s lab without express permission. The result had been instant death, and she had moved the body inside, placing it neatly on one of the tables.

“More uses then he had while living?” 88 questioned, her voice being distorted by the mask. “I remember you lividly calling him useless on numerous occasions.”

“.. You’ve improved him.” He noted, rather coldly. “I noticed your precision vith ze blade has improved by 2%.”

She moved away from the body, and towards the table. “I’m glad.”

“Sarcasm…” He trailed off as his scribbled something down. “Tell me, how did your chat vith Duke go?”

Damn it. Now she would have to explain the far from good news to Cornelius. She was worried about what would happen, not with the Professor getting angry, that didn’t rank terribly high on things that were likely to get her killed. Not recently, anyways.

What worried her was the sudden silence from Backwater and now 034501. 29 was surrounded by massive walls meant to protect it from terrorists or bandits, and it only had one entrance: a single, mechanical gate that disappeared into the ground when the way was open, which was most of the time.

She made a mental note to have that gate closed tonight.



- Backwater station fell silent a couple of days ago (three or four)
- 11 hours before the current RPG time, Haven's Way fell silent.
- Five days ago, Shepard and 'The Package' arrived in Outpost 29. No one besides Cornelius and Shepard know about the 'The Package'.
- Team Bravo consists of anyone who registered as military, besides the previously stated characters.
- Nothing is happening to Outpost 29, for now... >D

[Vethrenia]

Name: Ira 'Ivy' Vethrenia

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Rank: Captain

Class: Medivac Pilot

Appearance: A woman of below average height, possessing short length black hair and a wiry frame; possesses a slight discoloration of her right eye due to a reconstructive attempt from many years ago.

Personality: For the most part an unremarkable soul, a simple 'get it done' attitude bound about a small social life; a minor drinker but not to excess, off time is spent mostly pursuing additional training in her niche role of battlefield surgeon and piloting what is in essence a brick with engines.

Weapon: Guass pistol and tactical knife, kept mostly on her shoulder holsters; her in-field medical abilities are complimented by a modified variant of the CMC Suit.
Though this is mostly a secondary role, most operations never having her leave the seat of her craft.

Relationships: A somewhat estranged daughter from a one-night stand many years ago, thinking her abilities as a parent would be comprimised due to the high-risk nature of her work.

History: A spaceborn child raised on a small mining base, relocated to Tarsonis in order to gain a career as a pilot; some experience with injuries during accidents about her home led to her being quickly assigned the role of a medical officer, despite the setback she continued to practice her hobby of flight.
This led eventually to her skills being noticed and moved into a role of functioning as both a medic and pilot; an unlikely but useful combination that while has never really seen combat in her years, has saved numerous lives in both roles.

----------------------
With a calm voice, Ira speaks to the group; "And hello there, I'll be your pilot for this journey... so yeah; it's a pleasure and yadda-yadda but to be perfectly frank, with all the nonsense breaking loose about the sector we're liable to be tagged by some hijacked anti-aerospace defenses and plummet meaninglessly to the ground..."
After her speech, Ira gently rubs at her prosthetic eye; "So who have we got?"

[Blue62]

Name: Hap Shawnesee
Age: 40
Gender: Male
Rank: Corporal
Class: Militia
Appearance: average height, broad shouldered- if he weren't a solder, one would likely take him for a backwater farmer with his honest face and slow drawl. Off duty, he tends toward baggy clothing, in neutral colours. On duty, he keeps his uniform pressed and cleaned as best he can given the surroundings.
Personality: laid back, get's along with others, doesn't go out of his way to get to know them or get friendly very often usually keeping to hiself. However, he isn't afriad of sticking out his neck to get greenhorns up to speed with the local swing of things. Will not back down from a standpoint he beleives is right or good and won't hesitate to 'take it outside' if need be
Home Planet: Taris Mar (temperate, backwater)
Weapon: C-14, C-14s (pistol deriviative)
Relationship(s): widowed, no children
History: sergeant
Enlisted out of highschool later married his sweetheart on his second leave, four years later. While on operation nine years ago, he recived news that she had been killed by a drunk driver. Driven into depression he bungled a mission and nearly his entire units was killed, resulting in a demotion from Commander to Lieutenant, where he has remained since then.

Hap rose early in the day and dumped a packet of instant coffee into the machine, sighing a bit as he sipped the rancid liquid in the pre-dawn light. Day five since that damned Ghost had arrived. Rumours had been flying around since then and it seemed like there's been more fights in the bars. Maybe he was just getting old.
Dumping the slop in the sink he dressed and picked up his rifle. Not that he'd be in any shape to fight after firing more than a couple of the 13mm rounds, but nobody really needed to know that. So he carried it around with him, reasoning that if he did have to take a shot, the damage the flechette ammunition would do to whatever- or whoever- he shot would stop everything dead.
Stepping outside he looks around at the base, at the few people up this early. Looked like another quiet day at '29.

[Samchu]

Name: Teia Andrews (real name: Teia McMannus)

Age: 27

Gender: Female

Rank: Captain

Class: Military

Appearance: 5'7. Athletic build. Usually she appears slightly more muscular but the months she's spent in hospital have softened her slightly. Auburn hair which is always cut short. Green eyes. She recieved a lot of scarring as a result of an explosion on her last mission. The worst of it is on her body, particularly her right side which had to be partly reconstructed because of how damaged it was. She has some scarring on her legs and arms but most of that is faint. She also has one on her right cheek. If she's not on duty she'll tend to wear something loose on her lower half and something short on the top half.

Personality: Teia's very good at differentiating between what she's like on the battlefield and how she acts during quiet spells. If an aspect of a mission requires her attention she'll give all of it. She's alert and attentive, responsive to orders but also not afraid to give a few orders of her own or take initiative if she feels it's necessary. Otherwise she's generally outgoing. She likes to know about the people she's fighting with. Her own experiences have taught her to view individuality as a strength, not a weakness, so she likes to know what the people around her can offer that a briefing file can't tell her. She's easy to approach and won't turn people away if they need to talk. Most of her free time is taken up with period of self progression, usually working out, studying or meditating, but she doesn't mind these being interrupted as she views change as a postive aspect. However, she has no patience for time wasters or people who use their own laziness or selfishness as an excuse for their own short commings. She doesn't appreciate being talked down to because she's a woman and won't hesitate to beat a new lesson into any idiot foolish enough to make such a comment (and she has). She keeps her real family name a secret (see history) but won't deny it if someone finds out.

Home Planet: Tarsonis

Weapon: C-14

Relationship(s): Has run missions with Caden in the past. Although the two don't always gel in terms of personality they hold mutual understanding because of their ability in warfare. Also partly grew up with Luci as the position of their families meant that they were often forced to attend the same gatherings. They bonded over a dislike of the formalities of the meetings and engineering as Teia had learned a few things from her Uncle (the only member of her family in that particular field). When Teia was in the academy they kept in touch via letter but the constant travelling that came following her graduation made it impossible to maintain and the two fell out of touch soon after.

History: Teia is the first female to be born in six generations. Coming from a family renowned for its military contribution, there was concern that she would bring an end to her family's prestigious history by pursuing a career outside that of the military. However, Teia grew up fascinated by the work of her forefathers, all of whom had held high-ranking positions in various fields. She paid close attention to everything, learning as much as she could without ever showing a preference to a particular field.
She couldn't wait to join the academy and applied as soon as she was able. However, she resented her life there and considers it the single worst part of life so far. As a woman she was constantly "encouraged" to keep away from fields that would put her in the direct line of combat but because she was a McMannus her success in the more "male" roles was put down to her genes. Despite this, she continued to focus her efforts in the more engaging fields - hand-to-hand combat, weapons expertise, etc - partly to prove herself capable and partly to pursue the love she had found for direct conflict.
When she graduated from the academy, she had her surname changed to hide her heritage, not wanting it to influence how people viewed her. She progressed to the rank of corporal fairly quickly because of her talent and ability and refused to go any further because she was afraid it would take her away from the battlefield. Three months ago she was honorarily promoted to the rank of sergeant for shielding civilians from an explosion. She has since been undergoing physical reconstruction on her right side. This will be her first mission since that day.

Other: meh


Teia
~~~~

The dropship rattled in that usual way that makes the greenhorns get itchy feet. I had a general dislike for the vehicles, not because of how they shook – that was part of their charm – but I had never been comfortable in a vehicle I wasn’t steering. They said it was an issue of control, and by them I mean the shrinks back at the academy. I told them it wasn’t a problem but shrinks…well, what do you expect from those who sit back and let everyone else do all the hard work?

I thought I recognised one or two of the other soldiers crammed into the flying metal box but I couldn’t match a name or a mission to any of them. Been staring at lights too long. Brain’s gone soft. Three months in a hospital bed’ll do that to you I guess. Still couldn’t believe it had only been three months. Those ninety days had felt nothing short of an eternity, I was sure I was gonna wake up too old to fight any more. Maybe in another hospital. It was a rare and strange occasion when I was thankful for my birth right and none more so than when I figured out just how quick they were trying to patch me up.

“You’re not ready. It’s too soon.”

Ah, that nurse was an interesting creature. There’s a joke somewhere about how hard she tried to keep me in bed but that’s the kind of story best served with several pints of something strong enough to curl a steel plate. Damn I missed drinking. First thing I was gonna do when we landed, after settling in to the location, was grab me a nice cold one. Or hot, if that’s all they had.

As we began our decent I tried to match the faces with the names given when the pilot had gotten us to introduce ourselves. To my shame, I could only manage two. I hadn’t been expecting the introductions and had been busying myself with a quick physical when it began. Normally my subconscious would work well enough to cover me but like I said, being out of action makes you rusty.

Turns out, it also makes you go a little crazy. Not like dangerous crazy but restless crazy. Makes you wanna get outside real bad, feel the air, taste it, smell it. It’s why I took the job. Normal circumstances I wouldn’t go near that kind of work, not enough action in it, but I weren’t stupid, just reckless. I needed to ease back into it. Get used to working my body again, figure out what felt different, if I was different. Didn’t want to find myself staring down a fight if I was still figuring them questions out.

There was that familiar jolt that meant we’d broken atmosphere. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, eager to be on the ground again.

~~~~

Outpost 29 was…in a word…dull. It had the feel of a place where nothing happens. Where people go about their lives with the usual grumble, maybe the odd brawl, but never rebel or revolt. It had the feel of a place where change is just a word, a thing that happens to other people. It was a place full of creatures passing aimlessly through existence.

I was wrong about this mission. I’m gonna be as bored here as I was in the hospital. I sighed. At least there’s booze. Maybe a drunken bar brawl or twelve’ll make up for it.

We were directed towards the military facility and lead into a room fairly close to the entrance. It was an odd experience. I was used to long winding corridors that lead to unmarked doors, paths so long and twisted you stuck with your escort just because you couldn’t find your way out on your own. But this time was different. It wasn’t a small facility, you could see that from the outside, but it felt like we were barely allowed to glimpse beneath its surface. How much they hiding here?

There were a few chairs so we made ourselves comfortable. Then our escorts left us though I assumed not entirely. There was bound to be at least one on the door to make sure we didn’t have it in our minds to go wandering. I couldn’t count the number of mishaps came from people who were just looking for a room to relieve themselves in.

I tried to make myself comfortable in the hard chair. After three months in a soft bed my body had gotten used to the luxury and couldn’t agree with the unyielding seat. Or maybe it was the fact that whoever was meant to be briefing hadn’t shown up yet. I wasn’t one for waiting around for other people.

Looking left I saw the dropship’s pilot sat next me. “Hey…uh…Ira, right?” She looked. “Any idea what they’re keeping us waiting for?”

[Vethrenia]

Pulling a knee up and resting her elbows on it, Ira absently gazes at the wall; "Don't have much of an idea, could be just about anything as of this time; generally I know less then the ground team."
Letting her head lull to the side before bringing her gaze about to Teia, prosthetic eye darting it's focus back and forth across the woman's form in short bursts; "Of course that's just the usual affair, if I had to guess I'd say someone's gone and spooked everyone into attempting to figure out who's behind all the nonsense."

Tipping her head back the other way, pulling her foot off the chair and letting it touch the floor once more; "Not much else ta say, I don't tend to know anything; I just work here."
Offering a hand out to the other woman, she asks with a somewhat welcoming smile; "Ira Vethrenia... Ivy for short; ya now know my name so how about yours?"

[Bear]

Name: Ozabeth Moragat

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Rank: Corporal

Class: Firebat

Appearance: Ozabeth is extremely tall and lean, with dark hair and skin suggestive of his Persian descent. His street clothes consist of a light, loose fitting white shirt resembling a tunic, and plain slate-colored pants, also very loose. He typically wears brown sandals, very well worn. His military uniform is the standard Terran blue dress with his Corporal stripes and insignia. Finally, his battle suit is the new R-12 body form, heat resistant up to 10,000 degrees Celsius and containing quad Flame Packs as opposed to the duals of the R-11 model. The suit color is the blue and red whisp design, staying true to the original.

Personality: Ozabeth is a quiet, studious young man who tends to keep to himself most of the time. He yearns for friendship and belonging, but his thick accent makes it difficult for those around him to understand. His understanding of English is much greater than his ability to actually dictate it, so he often simply listens to conversation and observes behavior rather than participating. He is fiercely loyal though, and will follow orders without deviation. He has studied Pyrotechnology since he was young and his only misbehavior was an unusual penchant for setting things on fire...

Home Planet: Mar Sara

Weapon: Gresham 8 Flamethrower, modified to include support input valves that link to the R-12 suit's flame packs. Know anything about propane and propane accessories?

Relationship(s): His family has lived on Mar Sara for many generations, making a living by selling metalwares in a small shop located in the planet's most populous city, San Gora. He has three brothers and two sisters, but he is the eldest and only sibling enlisted in the military.

History: As briefly mentioned above, Ozabeth has always had a fascination with fire. It wasn't a violent or malicious tendency by any means, he just was mesmerized by the science of how things burned. This intense curiosity inevitably got him into trouble sometimes, but it was always in the pursuit of knowledge and not mischief.

As a lad, Ozabeth, along with his younger siblings, helped his parents run the metalwares shop. Mar Sara was relatively peaceful most of the time, even when the war began and the Confederacy came to be. Ozabeth spent most of his childhood studying and playing sports, being keenly interested in the sciences and playing soccer. The shop his parents own is quite possibly the sturdiest building on Mar Sara, for the simple fact that after a few close calls, Ozabeth's parents had to take precautions against his fire obsession.

When Ozabeth completed his Undergraduate and Graduate studies at the University of Rushan, he enlisted in the military with the aspiration of fulfilling the Firebat classification. He has been in the military for two years, and has moved up to the rank of Corporal.

===============================

Ozabeth Moragat ~ Corporal, Firebat Classification ~ Team Bravo, en route to Outpost 29

Journal Entry for 4.16.2500
Time: 14:36

Having recently been assigned to Team Bravo, I am returning to my home planet. Normally this would excite me, but our mission parameters are less than pleasant. We have not been given many details, but I do know the military has recently lost communication with one or two regions on the planet. Something is definitely amiss here, and it worries me. I worry if my parents, my family are safe. I worry for the well-being of my friends back home, and the place I grew up in. I do hope that this disturbance is nothing more than terrorist activity, so that we may clean it up and I may return to my studies. Our destination is Outpost 29, so perhaps we will be briefed in full upon arrival. Allah grant me strength of mind and body to carry out this mission.

Ozabeth slowly closed his handwritten journal and placed it in his knapsack. Having been hunched over for a while when he was writing, he leaned back in his seat to stretch his back a bit. He clasped his hands together in his lap and let a long, quiet sigh escape his lips. He was trying to quell the nervous feeling in his body, and the worry he held for his family and friends. He didn't want everyone to see he was uneasy, but he could not fully suppress the tapping of his right knee. The young Private seated next to him noticed very quickly.

"Ye alright mon?" the dark skinned man asked, his eyes veiled by his sunglasses.

Ozabeth looked at him, but did not answer right away.

"I em ok" he finally responded, carefully sounding out the syllables to bridge his thick accent. The man looked at him for a moment, then chuckled quite audibly.

"Hah! Ye can't fool me mon, you're quite nervous aren't ye?" he said back, smiling at Ozabeth. His jovial nature even provoked a slight smile from Ozabeth.

Though he smiled, Ozabeth did not answer. Rather he looked back down at his own lap. The other man didn't seem content to let the conversation end there, however.

"My nehm is Cranodior Valaek. Ye can call me Crano fer shart." he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

Ozabeth looked at him for a few moments, then reached out his own.

"Ozabeth Moragat." he said, shaking Crano's outreached hand.

"So what's got ye all rattled mon? Ferst combat?" he asked, genuinely interested.

"...noh, thot is noht eet..." Ozabeth responded reluctantly. Crano squinted for a second as he processed his accented response, but ultimately smiled again and sat back in his seat.

"Ah, no worries mon. I'm sure ye'll feel betta once we get to de Outpost. Try te enjoy de rest of de flight!" Crano encouraged, unknowingly easing Ozabeth's nerves a bit with his nonchalant attitude.

The transport rumbled as it entered Mar Sara's atmosphere. Once the initial turbulence cleared, the pilot came on the intercom.

"This is Flight Captain Vethrenia speaking. We have entered the atmosphere of Mar Sara and will be arriving at Outpost 29 within twenty minutes. Make sure you have your gear ready when we land because we will proceed immediately to debriefing upon arrival. Also make sure you're strapped in tight for the remainder of the flight due to the choppy air conditions. Vethrenia out."

Relieved that they would be landing soon, Ozabeth closed his eyes and tried to relax. He filled his mind with thoughts of his family, sports from his childhood, and his studies at Rushan. While meditating, he lightly ran his fingers up and down the tube of his Gresham 8, the Firebat's main weapon. These short daydreams seemed to ease his tension quite a bit, as he did not seem to even notice the turbulent descent or rough landing of the craft.

As soon as the craft landed the ranking officer on the team, Sergeant Teia Andrews, directed us to attention and filed us off the ship in an orderly fashion. Herself and FC Vethrenia proceeded at the front of the line, followed by the next ranking Corporals and finally by the Privates and general Militia. We were met by several armed escorts, who took us into the building and led us down a short hallway to a large debriefing room with chairs. The escorts left as soon as we were deposited, so the other team members found seats. Ozabeth dropped his gear next to a chair near the back of the room and sat down, not making an effort to talk to anyone right away. He knew, however, that in this small room someone would inevitably sit next to him, and sure enough he saw someone approach.

Tried to leave that one open for others to get involved, but please keep Ozabeth's personality in mind as he doesn't like to talk alot due to his thick accent

[Mew Master]

Tracer
Location: Outpost 29, Civilian Engineering Bay
Date: 4.16.2500, 0834 Hours
“Look if you want it done, stop complaining and hand me that wrench.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~

Ethan was hanging upside down along the machinery in Outpost 29. The large contraption was used to process Vespian gas. It malfunctioned over the night, and it was currently up to Ethan “Tracer” Valen and his father to work on the repairs.

Being significantly smaller than the other engineers, Tracer had an advantage and was perfect for reaching the panel. Leave it to Terran ingenuity to place it upside down on the bottom of a ledge, which was nigh impossible to be accessed by anyone over the age of 13.

Working on a military base wasn't what his family was expecting when they moved to Mar Sara. Given their situation, it was better than trying to carve out a living on Tarsonis. Tracer's technological skills and his father's experience instantly gained them employment, although Ethan's age was an issue at the start. He managed to prove his worth by getting a run down SCV back up and running in only an hour and spare parts.

And there he was, hanging upside down from a belt winch, goggles on, Omnitool one one hand and the other bracing the panel as he removed it. As the last latch was removed he felt it give. Holding it, he rested it on cables running from the smokestack before clicking a flashlight on his goggles to look inside the machinery. Smoke and sparks lit up the interior console occasionally and made it difficult to find the source. Tracer pulled up a schematic on his Omnitool computer, the device attached to his left arm. He searched the screen looking for the hardware and made a mental note of where the damaged circuitry supposed to be.

Reaching in, he felt for the electric boards that were the source of the malfunction. Counting with his fingers, he reached and wrenched out the malfunctioning circuit board. The panel out from the interior, Tracer managed to get a good look.

“Vasaile,” he heard a shout from below and he looked 'up.' Standing at the edge of the refinery was Corporal Shawnesee, looking up and observing him.

“Corporal,” Tracer acknowledged before turning his attention back to the circuit board. Several transponders had been burnt out, and part of the circuits had been fried, melting to the silicon. The part could be fixed, but it would be temporary. “I take it this isn't a personal visit?”

“How long until the refinery is up and running?” Shawnesse shouted back.

“Unless you happen to have a piece of circuitry the size of your chest and three pounds of wiring around, it may be a day or to. The circuit's shot, needs to be replaced.”

“Negative,” the Corporal replied. “We don't have the supplies for replacing it. This refinery needs to be working thirty minutes ago.”

Tracer activated the winch on his belt, slowly lowering him down to the ground. “If you want a temporary fix, I can do it. But I can't promise it'll last more than a day, two tops. The entire motherboard needs fresh circuits otherwise you could lose it. And to replace that we'd have to break it down and rebuild from the ground up.”

The Corporal seemed to think for a moment. “Okay, do what you can with what we have. Make a new one if you have to. Higher-ups wants this thing going 24-7.”

“If you pardon my curiosity, why?” Tracer asked, tilting his head a bit before he removed his goggles, the lines of where they had rested showing the only clean skin he had at the moment.

“Just following orders. Get to work on it Vasaile,” Shawnesse replied before he went off to continue his rounds, his rifle held carefully.

Tracer snorted under his breath before releasing himself from the winch-belt. Taking the circuit in hand he went to the foreman, also a lower ranking member of the military engineers and explained the situation. It wasn't ideal, but it needed to be fixed or crafted from scratch, and to do either Tracer need some better tools and workspace. He needed his room.

Part walking and part jogging back to the civilian quarters, Tracer entered his families quarters. It wasn't pristine, but admittedly better than their homes on Tarsonis. Making his way through the kitchen and dinning room, he went to his room. Lights clicked on as he activated power cells for the three computer screens he salvaged and built, before moving to a work desk. Brushing some components onto the floor he placed the board over and started to mull over what he'd need to craft a new one.

Using his Omnitool to map out the schematics, he mumbled to himself.

“Five days and not even a spare computer chip. The hell do they get off bringing equipment we don't need and forgetting the stuff we do. What do they expect us to do, leave us here to die?”

Tracer froze from his work. Something about what he said seemed to resonate with him. He looked at his computer screens as they played static of the Outpost's every day activities. The last transmission from Backwater, received at 2102 hours, just after sundown. Then Haven's Way went silent too last night. All that was left was the interference.

“Computer,” it beeped to life. “Scan for signals from Backwater.”

The processors whined to life and he was given a response.

“There are no signals being sent from Backwater.”

“Search for signals from Haven's Way.”

Another few seconds of five separate processors searching for that which no longer existed. “No signals detected from Mining Outpost 035401.”

“Replay last recorded transmission from Backwater.”

“Complying. ”

What followed was the frantic and scared voice of a man apologizing for past wrongs, begging forgiveness There was the ring of desperation in the man's voice. The sound of the alarms blaring, and then static. Cold, burning static.

Something about it sent a chill down his spine. Since he received the message he tired putitng it through any means of audio filtration to try and figure out what was going on. If it was the terrorists, though the man in the recording didn't mention as such, and even stated that he was expecting to fight the terrorists, but not... whatever they ended up facing.

Tracer didn't know if the military was planning an investigation, and he knew better than to ask openly about it. Lest he be accused of being in arms with the terrorists themselves instead of his natural curiosity. He told the computer to close the file and continued work on making a new circuit before his computer came to life with something of note.

“Current transmissions being monitored from Outpost 29. Of note, a transport bringing supplies and personnel is due at approximately 1500 hours.”

“Well that's good news, maybe they have some new circuits for the refinery, hell knows the SCVs need to be repaired too.” Tracer decided to continue working on the circuit, to play off as if he didn't know about the transport. Continuing to make something from nothing, he'd check his progress at noon, go for lunch, then go report to the foreman about his progress. If he's lucky it may take less than a day to get the circuit built.

Something from nothing on this barren planet.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

And there, a post of awesome. Don'tcha love being civilian? :3

[Blademaster]

Welp, here goes nothing.


Name: Professor Reimund Cornelius
Age: 41
Gender: Male
Rank: Head Scientist ('Ordentlicher')
Class: Military
Appearance: Reimund Cornelius is an even 6' tall and weighs 194 lbs., with vivid blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes, the color and luminosity of which is augmented by what we might call contact lenses. His face is smooth, yet his expression is sharp and unyielding. He dresses in a black and silver uniform underneath a pristine white labcoat, with black pants held up by a silver belt and a pair of shining black boots adorned with heels and toes of German steel. When not in the laboratory, he wears a golden-colored coat and, depending on the weather, a red scarf.
Personality: Needless to say, Cornelius is a brilliant man. However, underneath his cunning exterior is a power-hungry madman who does not tolerate failure, and learns from his every mistake. He has a quiet demeanor and typical spends his time alone, but those who speak with him would know that he is a proud man and believes that he is more than deserving of the tenure and funding needed to further his research. As such, he will stop at nothing to acquire what he wants. Cornelius is also quite paranoid and has several failsafes built into each and every one of his plans. So it is advised that you take care around him... You never know when he might go off.
Home Planet: Chau Sara
Weapon: Too many to list; he carries a modified C-7 Pistol with silencer for "self-defense."
Relationship(s): Has an elderly mother and father on Chau Sara, as well as a fiance; Caden Shepard is his bodyguard.
History: Reimund was born in 2457 to a family of German descent, whose ancestors were exiled from Earth due to their ceaseless clinging of Nazi beliefs and practices, traces of which still linger in his genealogy and even his parents, who were strictly devoted to their ancient homeland's customs and language.
Because of Reimund's brilliant mind, he was quickly sought and incorporated by the Confederacy as an engineer of sorts, designing and assisting with the construction of new Terran weaponry and medicine. One of the men responsible for the compounds found in modern medical kits and a driving force in the construction of the first C-14's, he has an extensive history of impressive accomplishments to his name.
By the late 2490's, the senior professor Cornelius had become one of the Confederacy's most recognized and brilliant men outside of service. Involved on some level with almost every advancement in the Confederate military, from small arms to neural inhibition and everywhere in between, he may not be the acting military's favorite person... But then again, they don't have to willingly like him...
Other: Because of his ancestral Nazi roots, he has extensive knowledge of World War II and Germany's allies at the time committed to his memory. The Japanese Yamato warships and the nation's nuclear bombing near the end of the war, in particular, are rumored to be the inspirations behind his newest and deadliest weapon...

Professor Cornelius

Reimund adjusted his collar and continued to write on his clipboard as Caden relayed her report to him. He knew that Duke wasn't exactly happy with the way he and Caden conversed over such... sensitive matters, but Caden's every bit on information seemed to find its way into his work - from the Korhal offensive eight years ago that had led to one of their most vital figures dying to the newly developed mobile Spidermine technology to a recent security breach that had led to the new message encryption system surrounding most Confederate transmissions, "that crazy German bastard" seemed to have ideas for just about everything.

Which served Reimund well, since it kept "zat bloodsirsty redneck blowhard" from nosing around in his work like a spoiled child in a college chemical lab.

“Vell?" Reimund said sharply. "Vhat did Duke have to say? Anysing important?"

"Does he ever?" Caden's muffled voice replied.

"Caden..."

"Sorry, Doctor. As you know, Backwater went silent just under 4 days ago. That situation is unchanged, but..."

Reimund stopped writing for a moment. "But...?"

"Approximately eleven hours ago," Caden continued, "Haven's Way went dark, as well."

"Vhat?" Reimund looked up, not quite sure he'd heard correctly.

"At approximately 22:30 last night," Caden repeated, a bit more slowly and irritably this time, "034501 fell off the grid. We've received no transmissions from them since."

"Vhat vas ze last message received from zem?"

"Incomprehensible. Nothing but a few seconds of gunfire and gibberish, cries for help, static, shrieking... The usual fare."

Reimund pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. 'If it isn't vun sing, it's anozzer... Did Duke have any more good news?"

"The Package is to be shipped tomorrow at 0600." Caden replied. "That's when I'm moving out, as well."

THWACK!

Caden barely flinched as Reimund's clipboard hit the wall.

"Verdammt!" he snapped, briskly walking towards the table beside Caden and smashing his fist on it. "Verdammt verdammt VERDAMMT!"

"...I take it you're unhappy about this." Caden said dryly.

"You UND ze Package leave in 21 hours...!" Reimund replied, agitated. "I have verk to do today! I can't just drop my entire schedule to meet vis her just because Duke can't keep his head on any vun job for more zan five seconds! In case he's forgotten, I still have to deal vis ZIS problem!" Reimund gestured to the corpse Caden had brought in earlier.

"Problem?" Caden replied, tilting her head. "I don't understand..."

"He tried to sneak in here vissout ausorization." Reimund replied, tilting the man's head sideways. "Even ZIS stupid Scheißkerl should be programmed better zan zat."

"So why wasn't he?" Caden asked, knowing fully-well that the doctor wouldn't have allowed a faulty product leave his office. Not only was it unsafe, it was embarrassing!

Reimund gestured for Caden to come nearer. She walked around the table and looked at the area behind the man's head that he'd just exposed. Behind her mask, her eyes widened in surprise at what she saw.

"His inhibitor was removed..." she whispered.

"Removed VERY sloppily." Reimund corrected her. "Zere vere still pieces of ze chip in ze reticular tissues vhen I examined him... I keep telling Duke zat zese inhibitors are nossing but problems. But zat stubborn Schweinehund does everysing he possibly can to keep me away from researching memory viping any furzer."

"Don't I know it..." Caden responded, more to herself than to him. Before she could say anything further, however, she seemed to stiffen for a moment, before reaching up and holding her head.

"Anuzzer headache?" Reimund asked, retrieving his clipboard from the floor behind him. Yelling and making a mess of his laboratory wouldn't do his research any good, after all.

"Nngh... Yeah..."

"Ve can't have your health compromised, especially vith ze package moving tomorrow." Reimund said with a sigh. "Go speak vis Nurse Langlia and get zat treated. I have to analyze vhat little I can vhile I still have time zis morning. ...Und sank you for ze information."

Caden stood straight, at attention. It wasn't necessary, more of a formality on Caden's part than anything else. "Of course, Doctor."

With that, she turned and walked towards the door.

"Caden..."

She paused.

"If you don't make it back today... Please be careful tomorrow."

"...I always am, Reimund."

And then, she was gone.

------------------------------------------

idunnolol

[Blue62]

Get to work on it, jeez Hap, he's just a kid. Admittedly very good at what he does....Walking briskly, Hap wove his way between the growing crowds, headed toward the base. A dropship had touched down and someone in the flight control tower had *finaly* decided to let him know they would need a briefing. Easing into the room from the back he looked around a touch warily. Leaning his rifle in a corner out of the way, confidant no one would touch it, he walked along the fairly open space by the wall to the front, raising a hand.
"Ladies and gentleman, please, just a mometn then you can go about your duties. My name's Hap, I'm the sherrif round these parts. Outpost 29 ain't much to look at, ain't much to do here, but we do have the odd fight. I know you're all trained, probaby a level up from the miners here, but I will personally turf you if you cause trouble. Got two bars, the Husky's probably the cleaner of the two, unless we get some girls in there."
He hesitated there unsure what to say, "We've lost contact with a number of settlements in the past couple of weeks, as you may have heard. If you know anything about that, please let me know, but in any case, the fact that you're here, tells me there may well be a shitstorm headed for a very lonesome fan. Keep your wits about you."
Nodding once he stepped through the group, picking out the pilot and nodding to her, "That was a nice landing, Miss."

[Pichu Luver]

Kelnari Currently being…studied.

‘May Adun return to burn your pathetic little MINDS.’

Kelnari was irritated. There was nothing she could do about it either. She tried meditating and reaching out through the Khala, but the humans prevented any contact. She could not find that peace she held so dear. The one time they had released their hold the slightest margin, the only mind she had felt was another pestilent human. The gall! To think she would commune with one of their species while others experimented on her!

It’s not like she could have spoken to the female anyway. No that is an untruth. Maybe she could have, she’d picked up a lot of the language since her fall seven days ago. Speaking of which, she still did not understand why she was here. Oh it was obvious what the humans had brought her here for, but when she was shot she should have been teleported away. The only thing that would prevent that would be if someone had damaged the crystal, making that escape impossible.

‘When I get out of here I will burn your minds, but not before your bodies. You should be sane while your skin cracks and your blood boils.’

At least the underlings of that vocally disabled, cerebrate fleshed, Queen were afraid. She could smell it in her skin. She was a rejection of all they knew to be true, and even with her mind trapped with the confines of this human helmet, she radiated anger. Being nearly 3 metres tall (as her torturers measured things) would have made these puny creatures nervous in any case. That she was—in their slang—fucking pissed off, added to their anxiety. These creatures may have few who were psionically gifted, but they could still sense emotions rather well.

‘Especially when I am emanating it with every fibre of my being,’ she thought as yet another scientist adjusted a tube while his eyes kept flicking back to her.

They had been terrified when she had first arrived, but after being trussed up to various cables, unable to move, unable to do more than glare and emanate fury, they were losing their fear. It was provoking how they were getting used to her. The only way she was keeping any semblance of respect was every now and again she’d test the limits of her Strife created helmet, and jerk with as much force as she could against her restraints.

So generally, everything was infuriating and she could do nothing about it.

The only reason she was in this predicament was because she had accidentally smacked into a cloaked Wraith patrol. She’d normally had been able to avoid them (as she had an Observer with her) but just then her ‘escort’ had fallen back to, well; observe something and she’d crashed into one of their ships. Her shield took the damage, but it had been knocked down enough for the Wraith to easily break down the last of it before she could get away.

She wasn’t stupid; a whole Wraith squadron against one lone Scout was no fight. Even for the Terrans. She had turn to run when shots from the Wraith took out her engines and she crashed. She sent a message back that she was down, she knew her brethren received it, but there was nothing they could do. So she fought.

‘I can’t believe they call their Marines and Firebats ‘fighters’. My blades sliced through their flesh faster than I can think Zerg fodder.’

It was clear the humans had not expected such a fight. The first dozen fell before they could get more than a few shots off. They obviously wanted her alive, with the Wraiths hovering above, it would not have taken to much more to finish her, but they did not fire. More and more bodies were given to her for flaying until she had a small ring around her place by her craft. She even felt some anger against the human leaders ordering these men to approach her. It was obvious they cared little for the amount of lives spent, only results.

‘The LEAST they could have done was given me a fair fight. Not spend lives needlessly! They only human worth fighting shot me from half a mile away.’

It was apparent that the superiors finally realized you could not throw men against her and expect different results. So they got that female she briefly sensed to shoot her down. It still wouldn’t have worked except for the fact the ‘fodder’ had finally worn down her personal shield enough the shot got through.

‘There is no dishonour in falling. A hole in my abdomen is sufficient cause to loose consciousness.’

She tried to hear the truth in that mantra, but her collapse ended with her here, being prodded, jabbed and interrogated. That was the one thing she had been amused by, interrogated. In the beginning she didn’t understand them anyway and now, any Protoss who called themselves Templar had more mental fortitude then that Broodling creator could hope to understand.

With a quick flicker the mirror across from her resolved into a glass window. She narrowed her eyes as she saw the female that had shot her standing there. The tubes and restraints forced her upright into a hunched over position. It was ridiculous, with their ceiling height she was forced to crouch, and if she could have moved, it probably would be more efficient to go on all fours then walk.

There was only one reason the female was here, to talk. The only thing she had ever told her was that she needed sunlight or she would die. The scientist scoffed when the pink skin had told them this, but after having nearly died on them two days later, they changed their tune and now she had a shaft leading up to the roof.

They obviously hoped one successful communication would lead to another, but she had no intention of that. It hadn’t even been a communication. It had consisted of the helmet power going down, she trying to fry every living thing within reason and finding she couldn’t. So she had reached out instead and found only the female capable of easy communication. She knew she was weakening and seeing no other option, gave her images of the sun and her healthy versus at night and sickening.

She had raised an eyebrow, and Kelnari had felt her confusion and some surprise. Kelnari had cursed and dived into her head searching for words. ‘Caden’ had tried to fight her but before she could signal to the experimenters to raise the shield, Kelnari had her words and backed out.

“: Food you healthy. Sun my food healthy. No sun I die. :”

She had looked slightly dazed and angry at having her mind riffled through, but she turned had turned to the head torturer with the funny language, and Kelnari felt her explain it. He hadn’t seemed to believe it, until two days later when her vitals crashed.

Now, well her wound had been healed by their Medics and she and Caden engaged in a staring match every day. This time though, her shooter had a message.

“: Doctor Cornelius says that if you do not talk to me, you will lose the sun. :”

‘And I’ll be a good prisoner and do your bidding you think?’ She thought, amused by the threat.

“: Ahhhhrr! Curses upon you Adun defier! :” She jerked against her restraints and tried to grab the peon who had just jabbed her with a needle in her nerve cord. He leaped back, but it was unnecessary, she could barely move her arm, and could only just turn her head to glare at him.

Caden raised an eyebrow and smirked. “: There’s goes your resolve to suffer in silence I assume? :”

‘I hate these creatures.’ she grumbled to herself.
---------------------------------------------------------------

Lots o curses, threats to end life. The usual. Tag CT. Blade too if your char wants to walk in on thier 'conversation'.

[Crazy Elf Boy]

Name: Solace Kaarn

Age: 31

Gender: Male

Rank: Captain

Class: Military (Marine if possible)

Appearance: Solace is quite short for a guy only reaching about 5’8” on a good day. But this however does give him a few advantages though. Since he is small enough he keeps his marine armour fully assembled most of the time so in an emergency he can just climb through the top and activate it without worrying too much about getting it all together. He likes to stay in his suit most of the time as he feels the need to have a bond of solidarity with his friend Axel Muldoon who is currently sealed into his. Solace has shortish dark brown hair with a short fringe as he doesn’t like it to impair his vision while he is in combat, yet still long enough that he can pick up the ladies. This is in deep contrast with his brilliant green eyes which seem to stand out like emeralds in a rock.

Even though he has been fighting for nigh on 12 years now there seems to be little evidence of that on his body (Mainly due to the fact that he has spent most of that time fighting in his CMC suit. Though he does have a few identifying scars, one across his right forearm which he obtained in a knife fight with a drunken patron at a bar who Solace seemed to have offended. The other is a bullet hole scar on top of his left shoulder from when a stray bullet pierced his CMC suit and embedded itself into his flesh. His skin is fairly pale as it has been protected from the sun by his suit for a while. On the rare occasions he is out of his suit he prefers to wear a pair of black faded jeans with a torn grey long sleeved shirt, with black military boots on his feet and fingerless leather gloves.

Personality: Solace most of the time acts like your typical soldier, rough and tumble letting every hurtful comment bounce right off him. However since his brother died he has felt sort of empty inside, however most people other than the people who have known him for a long time don’t get to see that side of him. However while he is in combat, his mind is focused on the task at hand. He will usually follow orders to the letter, yet sometimes his judgement requires him to go in another direction, this has caused some grief with officers in the past, yet however when his plans work out they are usually met with the begrudging thanks of his superior officer, this is often followed by his rations getting cut in half for a month.

Home Planet: Antiga Prime

Weapon: Standard C-14 rifle, modified with a switch knife style bayonet for close quarters combat and an under barrel grenade launcher.

Relationships: His best friend/ teammate is Axel Muldoon, they have been fighting in the same group now for about 11 years.

History: Solace had a pretty average life on Antiga prime, even though by some of the other more populated planets standards it might have been seen as a boring country life. Most of his days were spent out with his brother and father shooting game and going for joy rides. However that shortly changed after his brother and father went off world to buy new supplies for their farm when they were destroyed by a passing Sons of Korhal convoy.

Since then Solace has vowed to get revenge on those outlaw bastards for killing his family. Joining up with the Confederate military as soon as he could at the age of 18, he spent the first year in training. However during his first live combat experience against a live opponent was a bit of a scary time for him as he did not expect so much killing and people dying to go on directly around him. He was always told that the confederacy was strong and the fact that they were getting their asses kicked by the Sons of Korhal was worrying to him. Though rallying his strengths he barely managed to get by.

Only 5 people of his original squad of 50+ survived the battle, Himself, Jimmy “Badass” Dean, Skeeter, Marco and Axel Muldoon. When the transport finally came to pick them up Solace quickly learned that the battle was just a distraction a much larger attack which was to be carried out by a more experienced team on the other side of the planet. Their force wasn’t expected to survive as it was mostly made out of new recruits and convicts. When they got back to base the other team were heralded as heroes for completing their mission while their team was not given any recognition for the part that they played.

This was the beginning of Solace’s mind set of disregarding orders which didn’t make sense. He knew that he couldn’t leave the Confederate Army as he would never again get the chance to take the fight to the Sons of Korhal again, so he persevered. Over the next couple of years, he and the other 4 survivors of that battle had stuck together and quickly became good friends, however he came to know Axel a lot better than the other 3. Axel was a convicted serial killer and therefore unlike Solace was conscripted into the army as an alternative to spending the rest of his life in prison. Because of this he was sealed into his CMC suit so that he wouldn’t abandon his post during battle, he was either going to live or die in his suit. Solace and Axel guarded each other’s back during combat over the years making sure that the other got out alive.

After a while their little group became well known for going in to nigh on impossible situations and managing to come out alive, however this didn’t last long. Only a year after they had met, Skeeter met his end during a raid on a Sons of Korhal compound while Marco died defending a control tower, Jimmy Dean has been reported MIA during a surprise attack on a Confederate base, most think he is dead but Solace thinks otherwise. Due to his heroics and blatant disregard for orders Solace has been promoted and demoted many times, at the moment he is somewhere around Private Second Class and Corporal.

Other: Both Solace and Axel have small counters within their heads up display showing how many kills their guns have registered, this is to satisfy their competitive urges (Much like Legolas and Gimli). He also treats his CMC suit like one would treat a sports car, he enjoys polishing it down and making sure that everything is working right before he goes into combat. This means he has basic knowledge of his suit but requires engineering assistance for major damage repair.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Solace Kaarn
Current Location: Drop ship en route to Outpost 29
Mood: Bored as all hell

The shuttle started shaking violently as it broke through the desolate planet’s atmosphere, the planet trying to pull it down while the pilot up front was trying to fight against it so the ship didn’t just slam into the ground. This wasn’t the first time that Solace had gone through the planet fall turbulence in a shitty Confederate drop ship and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Solace had been to a bunch of back water planets during his service and usually they were just boring guarding jobs, usually the Sons of Korhal made a few hit and runs on the mining supplies of the Confederacy, though a little show of force from the Confederacy usually stayed them off. A couple of hours on this planet and Solace would be back home with a fat wad of cash drinking beers in a pub with lots of lovely women.

A sudden jostling of the ship caused Solace’s head to slam against the back of his seat snapping him out of his day dream. "And hello there, I'll be your pilot for this journey... so yeah; it's a pleasure but to be perfectly frank, with all the nonsense breaking loose about the sector we're liable to be tagged by some hijacked anti-aerospace defences and plummet meaninglessly to the ground” came the pilots voice over the intercom which was in dire need of a service as the voice sounded distorted.

Solace started rubbing the back of his head to try and soothe the pain; he looked around the rest of the drop ship to see who else had been selected for this mission. He saw the usual assortment of marines in their blue CMC power suits, some holding onto the restraints of the drop ship for dear life, others however he noticed were quite calm and either chatting to one another or polishing their rifles. One Firebat who was talking to another marine, his suit seemed to be pretty decked out with the latest modifications. Their ranking officer sat at a seat of her own giving her a good view of the rest of the crew. Solace rested his head back against the wall, wincing slightly as he had forgotten that only moments ago he had hit the wall with enough force to make his head throb. As he continued to look around the room there was a marine who he did recognise, even with his visor down the decals on his armour gave it away almost instantly.

“Hey Axel” shouted Solace across the drop ship. “Are you sleeping there?”

There was a short pause before the marine’s suit moved a bit and a reply shot back at Solace “Yeh I am awake, just resting my eyes”

“So why is your visor down then?” asked Solace as he sat up a bit straighter.

“Well” he muttered with a slight pause, Solace could almost hear the cogs turning in Axels’ brain as he tried to think of a good reason. “There was a bit too much glare before”

“Axel, we were in space. How much glare did you think there was?” Solace quickly answered trying to catch Axel off guard.

“I uh, well” uttered Axel.

“You’re smoking in your suit again aren’t you” exclaimed Solace.

“No” replied Axel.

“Well then put down your visor”

“I don’t think I want to” answered Axel.

“Fine, whatever have it your way” Solace said as he looked back out the window at the rocky planet beneath them.

The landing thrusters of the drop ship fired up as it slowly descended down onto the planet’s surface. The back of the drop ship opened up and with a thud made contact with the red ground of the planet kicking up a cloud of dust. Andrews stood up from her seat and with a loud commanding voice directed everybody out of the drop ship and onto the planet. Not much later they were all moved into a debriefing room, Solace looked around the room, scoping out a good place to sit down. He noticed Axel took a seat by himself over in the corner so he could continue his smoking in peace. Over on the other side of the room however there was a spare seat next to the Firebat, Solace thought it would nice to talk to someone who barbeque a chicken from 20 paces. He walked over to him and sat down next to him.

“Hey, how you going?” asked Solace as he sat down. He was just met with silence as the guy turned away trying to look in the other direction. “Hey” said Solace again. “How you going?” still his attempts to interact with this person were going unnoticed, looks like he had to step it up. “Helloooooooooo” he began trying to get the guys attention.

“H-h-hey” he replied with a pretty thick accent.

“Finally broken through” Solace muttered to himself “Name is Solace Kaarn, yours?” Solace outstretched his hand.

“My nem is Ozabeth Moragat” he replied, gingerly putting out his hand to shake Solace’s.

“So how long you been in the service?” asked Solace as he got a bit more comfortable in his seat, a bit restless waiting for the debriefing to start.

“I hav bin in service two years” replied Ozabeth.

“Not bad, not bad at all. Enjoying it?”

“It is nyet bad” came the reply again in the thick accent.

“Awesome, I just hope that this debriefing gets started already”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hope I played your character right Bear. For some reason from your post I got a feeling that his accent was akin to Russian.

[Ayeun]

Lillah

Machine shop, 0615 hours.

The sounds of metal scraping on cement can be heard from under a Vulture bike. A pair of legs can be seen sticking out from under the exhaust manifold. Several minutes pass with the sounds of metal banging against metal.

"Chief, who took this bike out last? Its cloged to all hells." Lillah emerges from under the bike, to the sounds of snoring coming from the Chief's chair. Mumbling to herself, Lillah walk over to the service board, and pulls down the clipboard.

Vulture #006 - Last used: Lillah.
Resuply and restock.
Serviced: Lillah

"Hmmm," Lillah says to herself as she returns to the bike. "I am sure I cleaned the intake manifold when i serviced this." Checking the milage, however, Lillah notices several hundered additional miles have been added to the bike since the last service. Removing a small device from her back pocket, and placing it on the dash, Lillah smirks as the miles roll off, restoring the device to the serviced number. Making a mental note to find out who is driving her bike, Lillah packs away the bike, and heads off to get the Air brush.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Paint rack, 1000 hours.

17 Combat suits, 4 Firebat suits, 2 Marauder suits, 2 Medic suits, and a Ghost suit are hanging and drying. The suits all gleam from the fresh coat of paint. A coat of paint, Lillah knows, will be redundant after 10 minutes of marching, but none the less, Orders are orders. Thank god for spares.

Pulling a Screwdriver from her belt, and poping open a acess pannel on Ozabeth's suit, Lillah inspects the flow line for Ozabeth's fuel. After watching him in the training range a few days ago, Lillah has been trying to get the flow JUST right every day. Ozabeth tends to get a bit enthaustaic about fire, so much so, that it is not safe to be standing behind him or even beside him. Yesterday it was 75% flow, and it was safe to be behind Ozabeth, but not besides him. Today, Lillah was going to try 66%.

What Ozabeth doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cantena, 1200hours.

Lillah sat alone, nursing a beer. It was her first one for the day. The bar tender and her had a 'Understanding'... He provided her with 2 beers a day, and she let him wash her hair once a week. What ever his sick little fantasy was, she didn't care. She wasn't 18 for a few more months, and after a full day working, she deserved a beer just like everyone else.

Looking across the bar, Lillah noticed the Chief and his wife in the middle of a heated arguement. Thinking to herself Why does he stay with that cow?, Lillah sighed. The Cheif's quarters were just near hers, and if she didn't get some sleep soon, their fight would once again spill in to their quarters, and the LOVELY Mrs Chief will keep her up. No wonder the Chief sleeps half the day in the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lillah's rack, 1230 hours.

Sure as rain on low lands, 15 min ago, the fight started again. Tonight, Mrs Cheif thinks that the Chief is having an afair with Specialist Sheppard. Hope that Mrs Cheif is ready to have her head turned in to a pudding cup.

Sighing, and pulling her boots back on, Lillah sits up, pulling her hair up. Maybe the Machine shop will be quieter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hope this is ok. My first post ever in a RP! Woo woo!

[Blademaster]

Apologizing in advance for the inevitable butchering of Kelnari and possibly the entire Protoss race.

Professor Cornelius

"Und... zere ve are." Reimund muttered to nobody in particular as he removed the final piece of the chip from beneath his microscope. As he'd suspected, the node connector had shorted out, which likely reduced the now-lifeless soldier it had been extracted from to a moaning pile of flesh on the battlefield. While the man was hardly the pinnacle of the Confederacy's forces, even a hardened Confederate Marine couldn't be expected to accomplish much when the nerve center of his brain was effectively on fire.

'Zose field medics did a horribly sloppy job.' Reimund mused as he tossed his gloves into the sanitizer. 'Duke isn't even vaiting for zem to complete full training anymore. Zese lacerations are ROOKIE mistakes for God's sake...!'

But alas, as much as he would have liked to figure out why the neural implants were malfunctioning (He suspected it was because of Duke's right-hand Schwachkopf's BRILLIANT idea to replace the ingdrium short-term output balancer with more cost-effective copper.), it was already past noon. The doctor was behind schedule.

'My first and possibly only meeting vis a technologically-advanced psionic race,' he thought sourly as he removed his labcoat, 'und I'm an hour late.'

The doctor exited his lab and locked the door behind him. Five times.

Then, he exited his FAKE lab and locked the door behind him another four times.

Then, he exited his FAKE fake lab and locked the door behind him three more times.

It always paid to be prepared, was Reimund's credo. He adjusted his formal coat and walked down the hallway, towards a larger laboratory. One filled with bustling doctors and scientists probing, prodding, and otherwise pestering... her.

Reimund was honestly awed when he'd first seen the Protoss. A staggering nine feet in height, face devoid of any features but those fiery blue eyes, like the hottest stars in the cosmos. They matched the species' tempers, to be certain.

Their garb was also unlike anything they'd ever seen. The ornate decorations were unearthly enough, but they were woven of materials that didn't even fit in the periodic table. Some were familiar, like silver and cobalt. Others were very new to humanity, if not totally alien. The armor was even stranger: It was made of what appeared to be silver and gold, yet somehow these soft, familiar elements used primarily for decoration were as hard as diamond and even more resistant than titanium. Whatever her species had done to them, it was beyond anything that human civilization could produce.

Reimund hoped he could fix that as he entered the laboratory. Her armor had been separated from her, being studied elsewhere in the facility. But as tempting as it was, Reimund knew of an easier way to get answers...

Immediately, most of the scientists in the room with her stopped, either to acknowledge Cornelius' presence or simply in fear. One of them approached him and handed him a report.

"How is she?" Reimund asked as he began to leaf through the papers. As he'd expected, her biology was a complete departure from what he was familiar with. Several question marks, variables, and blank spaces were dotted across the report.

As if to answer him, the Protoss snarled and shook against her restraints, sending several of her observers into a rush to get away from her.

"Still uncooperative, zen...?" Reimund answered his own question. "Zere is not much time for formalities anymore."

Reimund handed the report back and walked up to the alien, getting closer than anybody else in the lab had dared to except when samples were required. He looked into her eyes... Those hatred-hot, freezing cold spheres trying their damnedest to kill him with their glare alone. She lurched and wrenched, lunging herself at Reimund.

Her restraints stopped her when her face was less than three inches from his.

"Die..." she growled in a low voice. She wasn't angry... More like determined. Like she believed - no, she KNEW that her voice alone could kill him.

A few other scientists 'quickly' rushed to their superior's aid, but he raised his arm.

"Nein!" he said in a sharp voice. "Ve must talk."

There was silence for several moments.

"...Ve must talk ALONE." Reimund clarified.

"Doctor, are you sure...?" one of them asked him, not even trying to hide her underlying desire to get out of the room. A few of the scientists had already left.

"I am." Reimund replied. "Close ze door. Und ze mirror. She deserves some privacy."

The Protoss gave him a dirty look as the remaining scientists left the room, the last one out shutting the door a bit too eagerly. The mirror window rippled and turned back into a mirror, and then a metal panel slid over it from inside the chamber.

Reimund was left all alone with the large, angry Protoss. The two looked at one another for a long, awkward moment: Reimund out of sheer curiosity and some level of respect, the Protoss out of burning fury.

"...You can drop ze act, if you like." Reimund finally said, turning around and grabbing a chair. "Ze ozzers can't see us visout crowding around a window ze size of my head, und zis room is soundproofed. Any noise lower zan 80 decibels will be too muffled for zose outside to hear or decipher."

The Protoss just stared at him silently.

"...My name is Ordentlicher Reimund Cornelius." he announced, sitting down and tapping against his chest. "You may have heard my name during your time here...?"

The Protoss' eyes narrowed.

"The one who'll take the sunlight from me." she rumbled in response.

"Ahh, so you ARE feeling more talkative today." Reimund replied with a smile. "Wunderbar."

"All I will say to you..." the Protoss snarled, slowly and deliberately drawing out her words in a way that reminded Cornelius of a native speaker of a language trying to communicate with a non-speaker, "...is that I WILL get out of here. And I WILL kill you... You and all who work with you, keeping me here."

Reimund smiled.

"So, ve DO haff some sings in common, after all." he said with a chuckle. "Ve both hate my boss."

Again, the Protoss was silent.

"You ARE correct zat you vill get out of here." Reimund admitted. "You leave tomorrow morning, not long after ze Sun rises."

The Protoss lifted her head. She seemed surprised by this. She took a long moment to scrutinize the doctor, as if she were trying to figure out if he was lying or not.

Finally, her eyes narrowed.

"...You are lying." she growled.

"I am not. Tomorrow you vill no longer be held here."

Again, Reimund was met with silence. A slightly less hostile silence, but still silence.

"Until tomorrow," he told her, "zere vill be no more needles. No more probes. No more experiments. Only kvestions."

"I don't have to answer to you." the Protoss spat.

"Zat doesn't change ze fact zat I will be here alone vis you until I get ze information I vant." Reimund replied. "I shall remain here for ze next 17 hours if necessary."

"You believe that will do you any good?" the Protoss answered, almost sounding amused.

But Reimund simply snickered in response.

"Ze human mind und body may not be as strong as ze Protoss," he admitted, crossing one leg and getting comfortable, "but ze human vill can prove stubborn enough to drive even gods to madness."

For several minutes, the two simply stared at one another in silence. The Protoss' expression began to change as she realized that Reimund was serious in his declaration not to leave. All too suddenly, time seemed to slow even MORE for the trapped alien.

"...Vhat is your name...?" Reimund finally asked.

------------------------------------------

Tried my best not to butcher everything. Probably failed. Whatever.

Will Kelnari keep a stiff upper lip for the next 1,000+ minutes? Or will she decide to talk with the doctor...? Find out next time, on DragonBa-

...Huh, what?

Oh. Wrong RPG. Sorry, my bad.

[Crystal Tears]

Outpost 29’s Military Facility
12.17.2499
15:13

Shepard didn’t like leaving Cornelius alone with the alien, for all she knew that creature was harbouring her power and just waiting for the opportune moment to strike. However, she didn’t much have time to stick around, she had completely skipped the medical exam, recognizing that yes, the Professor had a point, it was probably wiser to have the stupid chip checked out but really..

There was far too much to do. The ‘reinforcements’ of Bravo Team had to be briefed, maybe she’d see the medic, check-in with the Chau Sara colonies, spy on Duke’s fleet..

“88, they’re ready for you.” A marine grumbled from inside his helm, with a tiger decal on the visor. “How’s the Prof?”

“Busy.” She stated, “Make sure none of them wander around the facility after the briefing.”

“Yes ma’am.”


The group before her wasn’t exactly the most varied; a bunch of marines, along with a firebat, marauder and dropship pilot. Shepard frowned inside her mask, noting at when she entered, instantly they were standing, and saluting.

Formalities, she hated those.

“Sit.”

All of them sat back down.

“Do you know why you were sent here?” Shepard questioned, unfazed as the room began to dim and a flickering projection of Mar Sara’s landscape appeared at the front of the room. It highlighted the various settlements near them.

“Terrorists.” Andrews spoke, heading turning in the direction of the ghost, who was walking to the back of the room.

“Correct.” The projection changed, zooming in on the map of Backwater Station. “Four days ago, Backwater Station fell silent. The message received by the Norad II has been interpreted by the General’s own advisors as a new form of terror by the Sons of Korhal.”

“What sort of terror?” Valaek questioned, chuckling a tad. “Attack dogs?” Despite not being able to see Shepard’s glare, the marine seemed a tad put off. “Just a joke ‘mon.”

“A hallucinogen.” Shepard continued; the image shifted into a rough outline of a canister with a biohazard label on it. “All those who inhale it, begin to see crazed images of monsters and eventually tear themselves, or people around them apart. It is believed that the same gas has been used on 034501.”

“The mining outpost?” Bryant questioned, he was near the back of the room. “Why would they gas a mining outpost?”

Shepard moved to the front of the room again. “That information is irrelevant.”

“How?”

She stopped, glancing over her shoulder at him. His thoughts were easy to read, besides being a total pig; he was sceptical of the entire hallucinogen story. She couldn’t blame him; she had heard the reasoning and thought nearly the same thing, only she didn’t get paid to second-guess commanding officers.

Duke had made that quite clear.

“A terrorist doesn’t care what target they harm, Corporal.” Shepard commented; fiddling with her combat knife she had slipped out of its sheath. “Whether it’s Backwater or Haven’s Way, they were both under the jurisdiction of the Confederacy. Has any terrorist in history shown any difference in thinking?”

His thoughts faltered, that’s all she had wanted. He shouldn’t be questioning the Confederacy.

Why not?

She frowned, there was that headache again.

“You were brought here to defend this military facility until 06:00 tomorrow. After that, the same dropship that brought you here will return you to the Norad II.” The woman stated this fact as clearly as she could. “You are not to leave the walls of this outpost, is that understood?”

“Yes ma’am.” They all spoke in unison.

“Good.” There was no way she would let harm come to the Professor or the alien. “Civilians are a secondary objective, some of you may not like this, but these are direct orders from the General.”

“Ma’am,” Kaarn spoke up. “What happens if the terrorists deploy the gas in 29?”

“You’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Shepard stated flatly. “If it does, I suggest you all make a tactical retreat to this building, where the air purifiers should filter out the gas.”

“Won’t our suits protect us from the gas?” Vethrenia inquired.

“They will,” The ghost replied, sliding the knife back into its holder that was strapped onto her hip. “But they won’t protect you from the crazed civilians running around; and a lot of them carry weapons. Your best bet is to retreat to this position and hold out until they tear themselves a part.”

“We can’t help them?” Andrews seemed concerned. “At all?”

Shepard’s stern face wavered behind her mask. “No… Now, report to the Barracks, the duty roster is posted there.”

“Yes ma’am!”


Johnson stood outside of the briefing room, rifle in his hands as the group filtered out and back towards the door. Shepard slunk out amidst them, approaching the tiger-marine a second time. She could sense his worry, something was bothering him, though he had long since learned to bury his thoughts around her.

“What is it?” She frowned.

“You asked us to contact Outpost 14 on Chau Sara…”

“Yes.”

‘They’re dead.’

“Dead?” She questioned, hushing her own voice. She looked over her shoulder at the team moving down the hallway. “What do you mean dead?”

“Stop reading my mind,” Johnson grumbled, shrugging a bit. “Some pasty-boy from the comm-tower came runnin’ down here, said he tried to reach a number of settlements on Chau Sara like you requested…”

“And?”

“And none of them replied.” The marine shifted his weight. “They’re having the same problem as us, but a lot more places have gone quiet.. Shepard how the hell are the Sons of Korhal droppin’ that gas on two worlds? They ain’t that impressive…”

“So you assume everyone is dead?”

“Is there any other explanation?” Johnson sighed. “Brass is lying to us ma’am, no way it’s the Sons of Korhal.”

Then what is it? Shepard frowned, there was no explanation. “This stays between us,” she snarled, “go to the starport, and prepare a dropship. If worse comes to worse, we’ll get Cornelius off this rock before 29 falls.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nodded, and walked off.

Duke is going to get us all killed. She thought bitterly, turning and heading for the elevator down into the facility. Son of a bitch is gonna have to try harder than piss-poor information to kill me.


-Johnson is an NPC. He’s a veteran marine that is usually seen in his black armour suit. His visor has a tiger face decal on it, and he’s Shepard’s right-hand man. He mostly stays to himself and keeps quiet, but will help out a new recruit or a civilian, as long as it doesn’t interfere with his orders.
- Report to the barracks, create some duties~ Have fun. Time is around 15:30 when the briefing ended!
- Tag Rio and Blade. Or anyone who wants to annoy Shepard.

[Bear]

Corporal Moragat ~ Firebat ~ Post-briefing, 1530 hours

As the others filed out of the room, Ozabeth followed. Everyone turned and headed down the long hallway toward the barracks, but Shepard stayed behind, conversing with this Johnson, a marine. As their conversation ended, Ozabeth very gingerly approached Shepard and tapped her on the shoulder.

Uh, um...officer?" Ozabeth said slowly, accent once again laboring. The Ghost turned around.

"Yes?" she replied, her face covered but her mild annoyance less than subtle.

"Ha...hav you heard...anyting from Sangora?" Ozabeth asked. Shepard stood there for a moment, her visor masking the perplexion on her face.

"Err...no, we have not heard anything out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?" she responded, but after thinking for a moment she answered for him.

"Oh wait, I remember looking over your file. You're the Firebat, aren't you? Mar Sara is your home planet..."

Ozabeth looked at her and slowly nodded, indicating his agreement.

"You have family in Sangora, right?" she continued.

She was met by another nod by Ozabeth.

"I understand. If I hear anything regarding the city, I will notify you. Sound good?" she offered, genuinely sincere but equally interested in finishing the conversation.

"Tank you, officer." Ozabeth replied, executing a very formal salute before turning to head down the hallway. Shepard and Johnson watched him depart and disappear around the corner.

"Never understood how people could call this desert 'home'." Johnson commented with a short sigh.

"I guess it's a generation thing. They've probably been here for so long it'd be inconceivable to live anywhere else." Shepard responded in agreement.

"I hear he's quite the expert in his field though. Having a Firebat might come in handy for this mission..."

-----

Ozabeth continued down the long corridors, walking as upright as he could as a few COs passed him. Before long he reached the short, covered canopy that separated the facility from the barracks. As he pushed the large, metal doors open, he saw the other members of Bravo Team crowded around a small bulletin board. This must have been the duty roster and bunk assignments. Ozabeth set his gear down in the corner of the entryway, removing his helmet as well. As he walked over to the group, they were already introducing themselves to one another and becoming acquainted. Looking at the listing of bunks, he scanned for his own name.

Bunk 5T: Cpl Ozabeth Moragat
Bunk 5B: Cpl Dominick Bryant

Standard military procedure dictated that officers would share bunks with other officers of similar rank when at all possible. With Bryant being the only other Corporal on the mission docket, it made sense the two would be paired. Bryant had been a Sergeant before though, so his demeanor was quite a bit more aggressive than Ozabeth's.

Ozabeth hoped they would get along, but any qualms he had were about to be dispelled.

"You must be Moragat." a large man in dark gray interjected, approaching Ozabeth directly with a smile on his face. His pronunciation of Ozabeth's name was forgivably bad, but his charismatic attitude prevented any possible offense from being taken. The man walked up and saluted Ozabeth very professionally, who responded in kind.

"I'm Corporal Dominick Bryant, Marine class. Pleasure to meet you." he continued very distinctly, ending his salute and then shaking Ozabeth's hand.

"Ozabeth Moragat." he responded, taking care to pronounce his name slowly and accurately to politely call attention to Bryant's mistake.

"Oh THAT'S how you say it, eh? My apologies!" Bryant responded with a little chuckle, releasing Ozabeth's hand. "Mission file says you're from Mar Sara. It good to be home?"

Ozabeth hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Well, it is o-k I suppose. I just wish the circumstances were different." he replied, difficult to understand.

Bryant stared at him for a moment as he processed what Ozabeth had said, then nodded in acknowledgment.

"I understand what you mean, my friend. Hopefully next time you visit it will be on your own leave." he said, turning to look back at the duty roster.

"So, let's see what we have here..." Bryant stated, perusing the list for his own duties.

As Ozabeth waited behind Bryant to see his duties, another man approached. This one he recognized as the shorter PSC he had conversed with briefly prior to the meeting.

"Hey there Ozabeth, how's it going?" asked the business-like Solace Kaarn. Ozabeth smiled, but did not respond. Kaarn did not skip a beat and directed his attention toward the list, which was now free.

"Let's take a look, shall we?" Kaarn said, skimming down the list with his finger as Ozabeth read it to himself.

"Hmm, well what do you know? Looks like we're both on cleanup duty after Mess. Shouldn't be too bad right?" Kaarn joked. Ozabeth once again did not respond vocally, but smiled and nodded to indicate his approval.

"Well, I'm going to head to the quarters to deposit my gear. See you at Mess!" Kaarn said to Ozabeth as he turned and walked away.

Having seen his duty and bunk assignments, Ozabeth let out a yawn. The long trip was catching up to him, and he was feeling a bit sluggish. He looked at the clock on the wall.

1550. Looks like I have a few hours before 1800 Mess. I should rest.

Ozabeth grabbed his gear from the corner and walked toward the left wing hallway. Just before he disappeared around the corner, he stopped and looked at the rest of the group, who were still conversing amongst themselves.

Hopefully this mission won't be too strenuous.

TAG...y'all?

[Vethrenia]

With her typical half-attempted mockery of a salute, Ira stands and stretches; "...ominous as hell," She mutters, facing the group as she gently rubs her eyes, "Now I don't know about you lot, but I'm going to go make sure Enchanter's ready for takeoff, from the sounds of things it's going to go right down south verrryyyy quickly."
With her statement finished she turns about and jogs off down to the hangar, reserving her (very negative) thoughts on the command chain until she was sure enough that it'd be out of reach of any mind-readers she knew was lurking about the base.

Reaching the expansive hangar she idly clambers aboard the over-sized flying brick that is a Quantradyne drop-ship, her personal touches applied; the words 'Divine Enchanter' artistically painted across both of it's flanks, familiar ground to the woman; despite losing more then a few of the vessels before, this one had been through hell and back; most of it new parts, with a hasty layer of paint over each replaced component.
She gazed disdainfully upon her modified CMC suit before settling into her seat and, against all common regulations, brewing up a cup of coffee upon one of the holographic projectors.
Feet planted lazily up, she gazed at the wall and was left to wonder... "Well this'll be fun." She says out loud, "No sleep for me tonight."
With a hint of paranoia, she hesitates... tripping the controls and sealing off the ship, "Better safe then sorry... bet I won't be able to hear Shepard's whining, too."

[Pichu Luver]

Kelnari Deciding who is less capable of intelligible speech.

"...Vhat is your name...?" Ordentlicher asked.

Kelnari flicked her hand away, clicking the nails together and mentally snorted at the man. It was a bad habit she had picked up from the humans. The snort they produced when they were dismissive of another of their species was a satisfactory way to express derision. Like they found whatever the other had done or said so dissatisfying they could not keep it internalized. Lacking the ability to expel air, she had memorized the sound and communicated it mentally.

Clickeing her nails and the hand movement was the Protoss way to ‘snort’, but it was unlikely that anyone had picked up on that. She wanted Ordentlicher to know she found him and his claims ridiculous. She hated lowering herself to their level. The Dae’Uhl held that she should watch over them, and given what was about to happen to the human race, perhaps she should show more concern for their wellbeing, but they were so infuriating!

First they had come and used the natural resources of this sector with little regard for the natural environments. Then, the first thing they do when they meet another race of equal—no, greater—intelligence was to attack them and then proceed to slowly torture any survivors.

“: Why should I talk to you of anything? You, the reason I have been treated like a dumb beast and physically attacked for days; when it was OBVIOUS from the beginning I was of at least equal intelligence. Only NOW, a week after I come into your unkind ‘care’ you ask for MY NAME?!? :”

“My superiors vere ze ones—”

Kelnari scoffed. “: Do NOT try to placate me human. As you should know by now, I can read your mind. You feel little remorse for… :” she paused while she searched for a word, “:…experimenting on me. On ME. Where do you find the…justification?!? WHERE!?!

“You are ze first alien ve haff ever found. Zere are kvestions ve need answered.”

Kelnari lurched forward on the restraints as far as she could, praying they would snap this time. Alas she had no such luck. “: Then PERHAPS you should had asked questions FIRST and tortured SECOND. My dignity is NOT a ‘formality’. :”

He made this low, repetitive barking noise that Kelnari had learned meant amusement in humans. “And you vould haff answered?”

“: A week ago you had only attacked me due to a… misunderstanding. Not treated as a dangerous animal. :”

This Ordentlicher was silent for a moment, considering his answer. “Perhaps you are right. Perhaps ve should haff tried communication first.” He shrugged. “It does not matter now, I need my answers, und I vill get zem.”

“: No, you will not. The only reason you seek to talk to me is because you do not have the time to test until you have get answers. You do not see me as anything more than an interesting pet who…conveniently has the ability to talk. So ignoring you, a creature that sees me as nothing but a…curiosity to poke and see if I bite, will be a pleasure. May Adun return to burn you alive you Cerebrate slimed Queen. :”

He only seemed more interested. 'Ah! I zink you are insulting me, but vat is a Cerebrate? Or a Queen?"

Kelnari raised herself up as high as she could and allowed a small amount of satisfaction to enter her thoughts. ": Your death. :"

[Blue62]

By 15:45, Hap was in the bar. Admittedly it was a little early for him to be drinking, but nobody seemed to care. By 16:45 he was almost stumbling drunk- something he hadn't managed since....well in a long time.
"Of all the gorram, fucking places....Why here? Why's shit gotta go south here. Gorram ghost, pack of marines with the paint still stinking of the shop....bah...."
The bartender quietly colleected the pile of empties and stood infront of Hap, "Sir, you'd better go sleep that off."
"Eh? Yah, fin'...cya tuhmarrow....."
Lifting himself up, Hap moved toward the door, the faint breeze and fresh air sobering him up enough he wans't slurring or swaying *quite* as much anymore. Marching to the command center, he thumbed an intercom, "Specialist Shepard to the Sherrifs office please...."
He didn't really expect her to be there, though he barely managed to hide his surprise as he approached the tiny office they'd supplied him with. Gesturing politely, he lead her inside, frowning a touch when she refused the offered chair infront of his desk.
"I can appreciate y'all being special forces and such, but be that as it may, i'd appreciate if you explained just what the hell is going on. You're here and now more marines? Come now..."
Her eyes flicked invisibly behind her helmet, thinking careful before speaking, "That's classified, Sherrif. you'll be told in due time and not a second before. And might I suggest it might be very unwise to attempt to persue this further?"
"Yeah yeah, made your point. Shit on the little guy, just like everybody else."
"You're drunk, Sherrif....consider yourself lucky I don't have you suspended here and now. If you'll excuse me, I have things to do." with that she turned and swept out, slamming the door behind her.
Hap stared at the closed door for a long time after she left, thinking and turning an empty shot glass over in his hands.

[Blademaster]

Sup fags.

Now that I'm a bit more fluent in Protoss, let's continue.

Professor Cornelius

Finally, a small amount of progress. The Protoss was stubborn, to be sure, and she clearly didn't want to divulge any information, but in her angry ranting, she had let something slip. Something that Reimund was intent to rip free from the Protoss' mind.

"Vhat is a Cerebrate?" he asked eagerly. "Or a Queen?"

"Your death." was the smug alien's sole response.

'General Duke is a Kveen?' Reimund responded mentally. 'It is fitting, but I doubt it vas vhat she meant...'

"Zat is a very vague answer." Reimund said flatly. "Could you perhaps be more specific please?"

The Protoss uttered something in her native language that Reimund assumed was the species' way of saying something akin to the Terran phrase "Go fuck a ragnasaur.", but her tone made it impossible for him to confirm or discredit this hypothesis. So, Reimund attempted a different approach.

"Cerebrate..." he mused. "Cerebrate... Zat vord means 'to sink,' in my langvage. But your usage of it... It sounded similar to our 'God damn.' Zat makes me believe you meant not ze verb, but ze noun... Is Cerebrate a noun? A God of yours? Somesing worshipped by your people?"

The Protoss didn't answer, but her claws began to clasp and unclasp like an angry human might clench and unclench his fists. Her glare seemed to intensify. She uttered something in her language again... Yes, she was angry, to be sure, but not in the way Reimund had expected. Had he guessed right and she was annoyed by his intelligence...?

No, she seemed to be angered more by Terran stupidity more than she was by deduction.

"...Maybe not." Reimund said aloud. "Perhaps zis 'Cerebrate' is ze 'God' of somevun you do not like...?"

The Protoss just stared.

Reimund smiled slightly. 'So zat is it...' he thought. 'She is cursing me vith somesing she dislikes... But to use its name in place of 'God?' It must be somsing she GREATLY loathes. Even more zan us... Perhaps it is ze name of her species' ekvivalent of Satan. Yes, Adun sounds like a deity of some kind, considering her usage of ze name...

But vhy use ze name 'Cerebrate' for anuzzer figure in her religion? Her native tongue is very different from ours. Zis 'Cerebrate' doesn't sound like a name her people created. It sounds Terran... But I have heard of no such name ever used in our programs.'

Reimund looked up at the Protoss again.

'...Could zere be anuzzer species her people know of zat she vould view as demonic...?'

It was then that the metaphorical light bulb went on over the professor's head. Of course... It was so obvious! The answer may have been right in front of him the entire time.

"Zis 'Cerebrate' is just zat, isn't it?" Reimund mused. "A god, or a powerful figure, of somevun you don't like. A race, neither human nor Protoss. A race zat vould require somesing zat could indeed sink a lot. Because its followers do not."

The Protoss gave Reimund an odd look. Did she sense he was figuring it out? Was he dead wrong and she was amused by his wild guessing?

"Und zese followers," Reimund continued, thinking back to a certain program he and Caden both had been involved in at some point or another, "also follow a Kveen. A figure of royalty..."

A smile crossed his face.

"...Or... ze ruler of a hive."

The Protoss' head shot up, her eyes widening a bit.

"A hive... und a sinker." Reimund said, looking her straight in the eyes. "Or, more simply, a hive und a mind... A hivemind. Is zere a creature zat you know of vis a hivemind mentality like zat?"

The Protoss still didn't respond, but for the first time, she seemed a bit tense. Not from anger, though.

She seemed almost nervous.

"Vezzer you do or not," Reimund finished, reaching into his coat and pulling out a picture, "perhaps it'd help us understand each uzzer better if I told you zat VE do."

He showed the picture to the Protoss. It displayed a strange, alien creature lying on a white, bloodied table.





"Ve call zem 'xenomorphs.'"

The Protoss yelled something in her native tongue, thrashing against her restraints with renewed vigor, before evidently remembering where she was. After a few moments, she settled down.

"So you DO-" Reimund began.

"Where did you get that?!" The Protoss demanded, interrupting him.

"Zis picture vas taken six months ago," Reimund replied, his smile fading, "in a Terran base right here in Mar Sara."

------------------------------------------

Maybe now she'll feel like talking some more.

[Asilynne]

Name: Lucinda Eos (Also called Luci for short)

Age: 25

Gender: Female

Rank: No fighting experience whatsoever! maybe just enough to hold a weapon without killing herself, and the meanness to wield blunt objects like only a pissed off woman could <3 RECRUIT THEN lol

Class: Militia

Appearance: Long blond hair with a slight curl to the very ends of it, very blue eyes and pale skin. She looks like she should be in big frilly dresses sipping tea in high class society but instead her hair is often pulled up in a ponytail and her skin often has grease stains from her job as a mechanic. She wears a simple white shirt and brown overalls with a dark blue toolbelt on her waist. She stands at about 5'4".

Personality: All growing up she was taught to smile prettily and be tactful and clever and polite, basically all the traits politicians and royalty are expected to have, but she hated it. She is quite intellegent and has the ability to learn things very quickly, but her real personality is one of blunt honesty. She's not mean for the sake of it, she just gets annoyed and impatient with peoples attitudes sometimes, and during those times she doesnt feel like hiding it. She mutters when she works sometimes and is short with people around her if she is trying to solve a problem, but most of the time she is quiet unless she needs to talk. Loves coming up with unorthodox ways of fixing things that somehow work better than expected.

Home Planet: Tarsonis

Weapon: AGR-14. Also any of her tools she can use as a weapon ;D

Relationship(s): Open

History: I'll write my history later after I get a few details from Sie but basically she was in a rich political family which she ran away from because all she wanted to do was to get her hands dirty and pursue her love---fixing machines as a mechanic.

~~Lucinda "Luci" Eos~~

"Another day, another dollar..."

One usually said that as they began work. It was meant to soothe, perhaps, with the idea that one must work in order to earn one's living. Though work was distasteful it served a greater purpose and one would receive reward in the form of monetary compensation for one's struggles.

To me it was a joke. One that, everytime I heard or thought of, made me smile ruefully. To me, the work was more valuable than the money. I had once had great sums of money and it didn't bring me as much joy as simply taking one broken thing and making it work. Being clean, made-up, hair done in a spectacular sculpture and a dress with so many ruffles I could get lost in them, didn't make me feel as beautiful as wearing dirty coveralls with grease stains on my face. And I never slept quite as good as after a long day's hard work.

I was currently working in a mechanics shop, and while it satisfied my urge to fix, it wasn't much of a challenge. Every day brought me closer to the decision to move on.

Suddenly I heard a sound in the front of the shop. Looked like someone was here. I wiped my hands on a rag and headed up, wrench in hand, to see who it was.

~~~~~~~~~~

Shitty first post but I'm lost o.o Tagging Ayeun

[Mew Master]

Tracer
Location: Outpost 29, Civilian District, Personal Quarters
Date: 4.16.2500, 2307 Hours
A child of unimpressive stature and confounding intellect.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~

It was going to be a long night.

Ethan sat in his room, pencil in one hand and sheets of electronic readouts in the other. It was late, very late after a long day. He was going over the logs of the refinery after the part was replaced. Granted, the drop ship itself had the supply, and he still had the half-finished circuit board sitting on his work bench.

He nibbled on the end of the pencil as he leaned back in his chair. After-images of the refinery statistics still in his vision as Ethan's eyes looked up. The young man's mind went back through the day, going over the events that transpired.

* * *

At 1200 hours Ethan stopped working on the circuit board, letting it rest in his room while he got lunch. As he headed back to the base proper he found the foreman and told him about his progress.

“Hmm? Oh yeah. Well there's a drop ship coming today, according to the manifest there are some replacement parts we can use.”

“How many?” he asked.

“Doesn't say, go figure.”

“Want me to keep working on it so we have a spare just in case the refinery goes down again?”

“Yeah, just not on company time. Besides,” he was lightly tapped in the chest with a clipboard from the foreman. “You only have 30 minutes left for break.”

Grumbling under his breath, Ethan went on to find something quick to eat from the break room. Once back in the hanger, he found himself checking the wiring and fuselages of a few of the SCVs. Basic maintenance, nothing major. But with the desolate planet, sand was starting to become a problem for the repulsers and the filtration system. His next task was to do inventory when the drop ship landed.

Ethan could hear the sounds of the ships engines revving up as it slowed its descent. Several of the other engineers were watching the ship, without much else to do, Ethan went to watch as well.

It wasn't a massive ship, just enough room for basic supplies for the Outpost. No doubt with the other settlements going silent, there was more to go around. Then again, maybe not. Gusts of wind whipped around the shop, sending dust and dirt back into the place they had spent the last hour cleaning. Bale, the foreman, started shouting orders to close the door and then clean it all again. As they went back to work (again) Ethan was excused to help oversee the removal of the equipment.

He grabbed the holo-clip board and headed off to the landing pad. Due to his small stature he wasn't able to get too close until the repulsers had fully wound down. He saw several men and woman disembark, most, if not all of them, looking like ridged cut members of the Confederate Military. He approached the pilot of the ship, asking for the manifest. The woman, small and wiry with the name of Vethrenia on her flight suit, didn't seem to believe him. It took a bit of fast talking and showing her his ID for the maintenance crew to get the manifest before she departed with the rest of the personnel.

Ethan started checking off supplies, listing what was on the manifest, and what was to be delivered where. Helping the loading crew organize the shipment to their destinations. When he found the stuff for the maintenance shop, he checked the board and then checked the shipment itself.

Opening a box that was supposed to have three spare boards for the refinery, and true to military practice, they were two circuit boards short.

“Oh dammit,” he muttered.

After checking the rest of the cargo, he headed off back to the foreman. Tossing the holo-clip board on his desk, and interrupted a meeting between his boss, and another worker, De'Marko.

“Leave it to the government to forget to send what they say they will.”

“What do you mean?” Bale took up the manifest copy.

“They only sent us one replacement part instead of three. We'll be lucky if the refinery will survive another day with bureaucracy like that. Means I'll be hanging upside down for a couple more hours.”

“Yeah, about that,” De'Marko interjected as she stood up. Granted, Ethan wasn't that tall, but Lillah De'Marko was shorter than most women. Either way, he was still looking up at the older girl. “What the hell do you think you were doing hanging upside down at the refinery stack anyway?!”

Ethan hadn't been expecting that. “Wha-What the hell are you talking about?! How else was I supposed to replace the circuit?!”

“The circuits for the refinery stack aren't there, you went in and cut a hole in it! The whole stack will probably burst if the filtration system crashes because of that hole.”

“What?!” This was one of the few times that Ethan was getting mad. “Look, the filtration system is what set off the shut down mechanism. Without that working you know as well as I it's not safe to process Vespine. And I didn't cut a hole I used a pre-existing access port!”

“Main circuits aren't in the stack itself, the processor for the compression system...”

And so it went. A technological savant arguing with a talented mechanic on the systems required and used in Vespine refinery. This wasn't the first time Ethan and Lillah had clashed. Last time it was safety protocols for the Firebat suits, and the day before that it was physics of hyperspace drives. If it wasn't for the boss, the argument may have actually erupted into fisticuffs. Something Ethan would have lost. Badly.

The cargo destined for the mechanic and engineering shop was unloaded and Ethan spent another hour in a harness, upside down, replacing the circuit board and running systems checks before the refinery was finally restarted. Pumping out large amounts of compressed Vespine gas that was being used as fuel.

The day was over after that.

* * *

Ethan closed his eyes and rubbed them. It had been a long day. Arguing with both Lilliah and the ship pilot was enough to remind him of why he liked being behind computer screens, and not talking with anyone. Both treated him like a kid who doesn’t' know any better. Far be it from him to have several degrees in nanotechnology, computer systems, and physics, and far be it from them to actually believe him.

It was getting late, and the bed was looking more and more inviting. So far the refinery showed no signs of malfunctioning, but double checking was Ethan's way of reassuring his own work. He put the pencil on the read-out and started getting ready for bed, even as his computers hummed at hm.

The tech savant had just taken his shirt off when his computer beeped at him.

“Notice. Notice. Incoming transmission from Mining Outpost 035401. Warning, unknown interference hampering signal.”

Leaving his shirt on the floor he jumped in the chair and rolled up to his computer screen. “Patch through on Monitor 1 with a level three scrambling on our own signal.”

“Complying. Complying. Signal secured.”

The computer screen was changed, from the blue screen with computer code to a large picture screen. Static was cutting in and out, and Ethan could hardly make out anything.

“Is the Outpost picking this up?”

“Unlikely. Current signal strength is below frequency that Outpost 29 scans for.”

“Stabilize the signal, increase tracking by .023. Add a second route to the system to compensate. Use processor three for primary buffering.”

“Warning. Increased signal strength nearing high probability of Outpost 29 tracking our signal.”

“Keep under their search net, boost high within acceptable margins then begin recording.”

“Complying. Signal strength increased. Recording.”

Ethan grabbed his head-phones and put them on, activating the mic. “I hear you, do you read?”

His hands played with the signal, trying to stabilize the static on screen and through the speakers. The image seemed to shift and twitch at odd intervals, and Ethan narrowed his eyes to see through the chaos. Finally he got a stable signal.

Taking up much of the screen was a man. He looked withered, frightened, eyes were sunk back in the sockets. Although he couldn't have been more than twenty years or so, he had the look of a man who was badly shaken as if from a gruesome war effort. There was a room, it looked like it had been furnished. Broken pieces of furniture and ripped plaster off of the walls. In the far back left corner of the screen was a window. Ethan couldn't see what was outside very clearly. Often the image and sound broke from a rush of static.

“.. orry. So sorry... coul... ymore.... came. So many died.... left... think... ed on... an't sleep. They'll find me.”

Ethan watched the man's face. He was horrified, mentally broken and seemed to be rambling incoherently. The young hacker tried to make sense of it before the signal cut off.

“Computer?!”

“Signal ended. Trying to triangulate. … … … There is no signal from Mining Outpost 035401.”

Ethan started playing back the transmission. Going over it with every trick in the book he could think of for filtering out the static. There wasn’t' much he could do. So much was broken and battered that there wasn't anything he could salvage. Something, however, did catch his eye.

He missed it on the original transmission, and he had to play with the image again to see if he wasn't seeing things. In the last few seconds before the transmission was cut, there was movement in the window. Ethan blinked and looked again. He played the transmission back and forth, trying to filter out the image this time.

The image was distorted through the window, blocking out a clear image, or even outline of what it was. Something in his gut told him it was bad. It wasn't right. Something strange was going on. Backwater, then Haven's Way had gone silent, leaving Outpost 29 as the only one left. Something was going on. Something bad was happening.

Ethan weighed his options. The video could be a fraud, a very good fraud, and the reason for the silence could be as simple as a system malfunction. On the other hand...

He didn’t' like taking chances.

“Computer, prepare to transmit a signal to Caden Shepard's personal communicator.”

“Warning. Action is ill-advised. Transmission from current location could lead to discovery by Outpost 29 security personnel. Average response time is 34.04 seconds.”

“Understood, create a level three voice distortion and prepare for communications transmission. Loop the security around Routers 3, 5, and 11 before coming back to main route. Continue scrambling signal during transmission. Record progress of base activities and security team.”

“Complying. Signal Established. Security Team tracking at 02%.”

Damn not much time. Better make it count. Ethan thought before getting on with the show.

“Excuse me Lieutenant Shepard, I hope I'm not interrupting anything.” If you even sleep that is...

Ethan heard the gruff and blunt reply from Shepard on the line. “Who is this.”

“I am the Ghost in the Machine, but if you should call me anything, you may call me Tracer.”

“What do you want.”

“Straight to the point,” Ethan said, his demeanor one of calm and collected even at the thought of Caden's anger. “Very well. You are aware that Backwater and Haven's Way have gone silent in the last few days. I received a transmission from Haven's Way a few moments ago.”

“Your point?”

“You should watch this.” Ethan patched through the transmission directly to Caden's Room. Even turning on the monitor that he found during a basic schematic sweep some time back. He could hear the transmission playing again, an echo through his own communication.

“Security Team tracking at 34%.”

“You notice the state of the room. The man. His voice.”

“What of it?”

“A good question. One would not consider the ramblings of a mad-man much to pay attention to. But what of this,” Ethan edited the transmission, enlarging the lower corner with the window, and then replaying the scene on a loop. A shadow, moving unlike a human in the few seconds before static washes over the screen. And then playing again in a loop.

Caden seemed to be silent, and Ethan couldn't tell her reaction.

“Security Team tracking at 58%.”

“If I may suggest, Lieutenant,” Ethan stated. “Closing the main doors leading to Outpost 29 as a precaution. We wouldn't want you to go silent too.”

“Security Team tracking at 89%.”

“Goodnight Lieutenant Shepard.” And he cut the transmission.

“Security Team tracking stopped at 98%.”

Cutting it a bit close. Seems like they upped their security. Ethan stood up and started walking to his bed, thoughts and plans running through his mind. “Computer, dismantle that signal and routers, begin reconstruction protocols with a level 4 scrambling program. Run for the next five hours. Initiate.”

“Complying.” The screens started to shut down, leaving Ethan, also known as Tracer, to the dark night of his room.

As he sat down and rolled over on his bed, he thought he caught the sight of something large, and massive in his room next to him. Features were vague, but it was massive, too massive to fit in his room, and it stared at him with glowing red eyes full of rage.

Ethan panicked, grabbing for the light and turning it on. As light engulfed his room, the apparition was gone. Leaving the young man to wonder what he had seen, or if he had just imagined it.

It was going to be a long night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Boo-ya.

[Ayeun]

Lillah

1230 hours.

The machine shop was empty... Or so I thought. We had a drop ship landing some time now, so most of the crew was probably in their racks getting some sleep. Which meant whoever was in here COULD be the one stealing the bikes. Grabbing a 22lbs sledge-drop hammer (the one we use when the Crucio cannons get jammed...). Rounding a corner, hammer in hand, Lillah finds herself face to face with Lucinda.

"What in the name of the nine hells are you doing in here? Shop's closed till the drop ship gets here..."

Lucinda was saved the 'wrath' of the drop hammer by the sounds of the ship descending.

"If I find out you were the one stealing the Vulture bikes, I will take this hammer and..." Turning and heading back out of the shop, Lillah headed over to the landing pad. Exchanging the drop hammer for a fuel line coupler, She waited till the boat had docked and attached the line. The flow of freezing fuel sent shivers up her arms, and caused a minor chill in her neural jack.

Turning around to see most of the machine crew taking up placements and unloading, she noticed Ethan, clipboard in hand, climbing in to the back. Probably to check on his precious circuit boards. Dusting off the frost from the fuel lines, and grabbing a hover sled, Lillah waited as the mechanically assisted suits (MAS) loaded it up with parts. Looked like someone ordered a new shock launcher for the siege tank. Heavens know why... There was nothing wrong with the one we had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1345, Machine shop briefing room.

That little brat, Ethan. So SICK of him. There was nothing BUT to give the little squirt a dressing down after he cut a hole in the side of the Vespine stack. Shaking it off, Lillah had the unpleasant job of kicking the pilot out of the Enchanter so the crew could go over the systems. Damned shuttle jocks think they know more about their engines than the damned mechanics who make it fly... And WHO gets the credit for all the hard work? NOT the deck crew, that's for sure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A short post.

Tags:

Mew Master
Asilynne
Vethrenia

[Mew Master]

Just a note Ay: No one knows Ethan goes by Tracer.

[Ayeun]

Ok... Will fix that.

[Crystal Tears]

This is a bit late, and I apologize. Been busy, with things…

Shepard
Outpost 29 – 0:14h
---------------------------

Admittedly, Caden hadn’t wanted to listen to some ‘ghost in the system’ or whoever the hell he was, but she did. The gates had closed soon after that, and since then she had been waiting patiently in the observation room, watching the alien and the Professor have what could’ve only been a very one-sided conversation.

But something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. Caden couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was an inkling in the back of her mind that something terrible was going to happen. Originally, Cornelius had ordered to write down all such feelings and thoughts and the events that followed. But that particular something also informed her that there was no time.

She pushed one of the scientists out of the way and opened a com-channel to the control room.

“Have all forces ready for combat. Move the tank to dropship two.”

“Which tank?”

Which tank? Caden scowled. “Idiot, the only tank this pathetic outpost has. Move it there, now.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“You,” She gestured to the nearest lab-assistant. “Get the Professor out of that room.”

“Uhh, yes ma’am.” She hurried to oblige, entering the room and conversing quietly (and nervously to Cornelius). She returned moments later, eyes darting in any direction except in Caden’s direction. “He uhh, won’t come out.”

Shepard’s scowl worsened, and she barged into the room.

“Sir.” She was in no way polite; the sir was a mere formality that had so much frustration pent up into it that Cornelius turned, looking at her curiously.

“Shepard?” He questioned. “Vhat are-“

“Out.” She gestured to the door. “Now, get to the lab, grab whatever’s important that can fit in your pockets and get to dropship two.”

“Vhy? Who is ordering vhis?“

With her mind screaming at her that disaster was about to strike, and her heart telling her to get Cornelius on the move, her stomach was being twisted into a painful knot. "I am.”

Cornelius was silent for a second, possibly considering all angles of the order. His eyes narrowed in irritation, but the quiet concern in his expression he quite bury under annoyance. "...Summarize vhat is happening in sree vords und I'll go, no furzer questions asked."

To be honest she didn’t know, there was no real concrete proof of what she was feeling. The woman frowned underneath her mask. She headed instead, for the terminal near them, typing away on the keys, she pushed the screen to face him and hit play.

She watched his face intently, and could just make out tiny thoughts, shrouded by numbers and facts. His expression was like stone, frozen as he watched the video and then reached into his pocket. Slowly his gaze traveled down, and hers followed. In his hand was a picture,of a creature. Not one that resembled the shadow of the thing in the video but… It was…

Definitely alien, and particularly unpleasant.

Memories fluttered back to Caden, inducing a headache, but an academy and tests.

“Cornelius, we need to leave.” Her voice still had a note irritation, but now it was being influenced by worry. “Go get your research and get to the ship.”

Still retaining grace, even as she snatched the picture from him, the Professor nodded and moved. His pace quickening as events began to tie into each other.

Caden stared at the picture for a moment longer, before she folded it up and placed it neatly in one of her pockets. Turning to leave, the woman only paused as the alien's voice resonated in her mind.

‘They will slaughter all of you.’ The feminine murmur wasn’t a taunt, or an attempt to anger the ghost. It was stated in such a way like it was a simple fact. ‘This base will fall, with everyone in it.’

“I suppose it’s convenient then,” Shepard glanced back at her. “That I won’t be here when it falls..” With a glance to the other scientist she nodded. “Prepare it for transport.”

The door hissed shut behind her as she left.

--------------------------

“Hey,” One of the guards looked out, it was pitch-black out across the land. But he swore he heard something. “You ‘ear that?”

“Hear what?” The other moved closer to the watchtower’s window. “I don’t hear shit-“
An explosion went off suddenly, then another, another. It seemed like hundreds of explosions were suddenly being detonated. The guards looked at each other as the wave of fire and brief flashes of monstrous corpses moved closer and closer.

“Jesus, that’s the minefield..”

“Mother of mercy, it’s coming right for it..”

The turrets on the walls edge suddenly powered to life, humming and beginning to spin as something in the air moved into its range. The turret stopped on about its forth turn, following something slowly only it could see in the darkness. Its canopy slid open, and a missile rocketed out.

The other turrets began to do the same.

“Sound the alarm.” The first guard gulped. “Shit just hit the fan.”

--------------------------

Shepard froze, hearing the alarms begin to blare and infantry being called to the gate. She frowned, looking back at the docks loaded with dropships, they needed time to prepare, it took a dropship a good couple of minutes to warm up and be ready for lift off, especially the one with the tank.

Reaching up behind her back, she unclipped her rifle, watching as its scope popped out of the body of the gun.

“What’s going on?” A woman approached the ghost, crossing her arms. “Is it terrorists?”

Caden didn’t really want to say yes or no, in her gut she knew it wasn’t the Sons of Korhal, but her mind wanted to believe it was. “If you want to live, get to one of the dropships. Find anyone you can and bring them with you.”

The ground began to rumble, and the ghost’s com crackled.

“Jesus there are thousands of them!”

“The gate ain’t holdin’!”

“Take cover!”

Both she and the woman looked over as the gate began to buckle and break. One massive door was being pushed right over, while the other was being torn through.

“That door…” Shepard gulped. “That door is solid neosteel.” She swivelled back to the woman. “Get to those dropships. Now.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Survive. :3 Yer only objective at the moment. Have fun with whatever little plots you can come up with.

Creatures you will encounter: Zergling (short ranged, fast, melee fighter, bulk of the horde), Hydralisk (long ranged and melee fighter, slower, powerful, near-human level intelligence), Overlord (air, very slow, no attack, detector (can see cloaked units))

[Ayeun]

[size=1]“Get to those dropships. Now.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Survive. :3 Yer only objective at the moment. Have fun with whatever little plots you can come up with.

Hehe... Advantage me... I was there before the shit hit the fan!

*Zoidberg wooping sound*

[Asilynne]

~~Lucinda Eos~~

"Bitch....." I muttered to myself as Lillah wandered off to have an angry spat with someone else. To be fair, I didn't really hate her, and I could come off as a bitch too. But I had no problems calling it like I saw it.

"As if I would steal that horrendous piece of shi..."

Alarms began blaring before I could finish my pissed off rant. Throwing down my wrench I ran to where the dropships were, spotting someone moving I approached them. "Whats going on?? Is it terrorists?"

The Captain was readying her rifle, giving me a brief look before continuing her preparations she spoke. “If you want to live, get to one of the dropships. Find anyone you can and bring them with you."

The sounds of war pouring through the speakers punctuated her words, I didn't need her encouragement to get moving even though she gave it. Her shouts spurring me into motion, I spotted Lillah not far away. Motioning to her I ran towards a dropship. "Now's the time to put aside our attitudes sister. Let's go!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sorry so short, I'm not sure if we get our own ship or we share one. I'll tag Ayeun

[Crystal Tears]

~ = _ The Zerg _ = ~

Something had at some point, gone horribly, horribly wrong. The creatures had about five minutes ago, blasted through the gate like it was nothing but a picket fence. People were everywhere: screaming, shooting and otherwise panicking on where to go. Caden was relatively calm, well; ‘calm’ had a different definition at this point. She was rational enough not to just blindly shoot, as she was pretty sure half the civilians had been mowed down by friendly fire, not the monsters.

With half of them gone, it had made it easier for her to spot a kid being terrorized by something… big. It was about a foot taller than the alien they had captured, and didn’t look nearly as friendly. It was like a snake, curled back, strange pockets in its shoulders that shot projectiles which were akin to massive arrowheads.

Charming.

It had torn off the kid’s arm.

Equally as charming.

It had only taken her a heartbeat to aim for its head and fire, and mentally she could hear the pop of the gun and watched as the monster reeled back, snarling and screeching as a good chunk of its brain was missing. It flopped over on its side, gurgling and twitching, eyes dimming.

Caden had snatched the kid shortly after that, tear-assing towards the civilian quarter when one of the smaller (though still significantly large, about half the size of a fully armoured marine) creatures leapt in her path. It chittered, wings on its back resembling a fly’s twitched.

“Christ…” She aimed a shot and fired as it leapt at her, side stepping the falling body and taking off again.

“Beasts of the void!”

Lightning crackled all around the sky after she heard that distinctive female-alien voice. Blue arks reigned down around the ghost and the child, shocking and ripping the xenomorphs a part limb from limb. A few bolts came near the ghost and she could feel the energy burn her suit and cheek. Turning away, she shielded her partner from one massive blue explosion before she dared to look back.

There was the nine foot something tall alien, standing proud amongst a pile of bodies both human and monster. The glowing blue eyes of the foreigner met the mask of Shepard and there was no doubt that the alien had the intention to kill the ghost.

Until she aimed a shot and felled a beast that had come up behind her strange ally.

“We need an exit human…” energy blades attached to the alien’s wrists blazed to life. “Now.”

“Caden!”

The distinct accent of Cornelius drew Caden to toss the boy to her new ally, who promptly caught him and held him off the ground like he was some sort of rodent. Shepard spotted the doctor and hurried over to him, pumping a few shots into one of the small, fast creatures again.

“Vhat iz going on?” He questioned. “Vhere are zhe marinez?”

“They’re-“

“Shepard!” The massive form of a proto-type Marauder stomped up to the gathering of people, stopping to stare at the alien. “What the-“

“She’s a friend.” Caden answered quickly, spotting and waving over a firebat as the slaughter gave them a brief reprieve. “We need to get to the docks, there’s a dropship waiting for us there.”

“The docks are next to the civilian quarter.” Teia warned. “That place is crawling with whatever the hell these things are.”

“They are Zerg.” The alien answered, keeping an eye out as she handed the kid to Cornelius. “They will consume everything in this outpost.”

“Then we try for the docks.” Shepard ordered. “It’s our best bet, and it’s the only way we’ll outrun these things.”

“We need to hurry.” The firebat spoke quietly, and instantly his accent gave him away.

“Fine, I’ll take point, Moragat bring up the rear, Teia blast anything that gets past the firebat, and you.,.” She looked at the silver-armored alien. “You kill anything that gets past me.”

“Very well.”

“Let’s go.”

= - Tag Rio, Bear, Blade, Samchu, Denny - =

>_>; Sorry if I got anybody horribly wrong, I’m just trying to spur on the RPG…

[Blademaster]

And now for an actual post.

Professor Cornelius

"Caden!!"

Reimund called his bodyguard's name out over the sound of the just-emptied safe in his office exploding. He'd take to his grave that being prepared for everything had its merits. Hopefully he wouldn't be doing so today - he'd grabbed every record, document, folder, and sample of importance that he could and now needed an escape route. Which WOULD have been Caden's job were she not suddenly AWOL-

BANG! BA-BANG! BANG!

'Not AWOL.' the doctor mentally corrected himself as one of the invading xenomorphs whizzed past his head and slammed against the wall, several still-smoking bullet holes in it. 'Preoccupied.'

"Doctor, we have to go NOW." the Ghost said, her normally-emotionless voice wavering a bit.

Reimund, however, was still a bit shell-shocked by the corpse of the creature that had very nearly just torn his head open. How could Xenomorphs be attacking the base? Had they been the ones behind ALL the recent attacks? "...Vat is going on?" he finally managed to ask. "Vere are ze Marines?!”

Before Caden could formulate an answer, the two of them were quickly surrounded by a Firebat, a proto-Marauder, and... the Protoss?!

"She’s a friend." Caden insisted, quickly taking charge of the ragtag team. Reimund's head was swimming by this point. How could wild Xenomorphs have gotten to Mar Sara so quickly? Why was the Protoss siding with the Terrans who'd been experimenting on her all week against the creatures? And... Who was this strange child that said Protoss was shoving into his arms?!

"Vat ze..." he mumbled as his labcoat began to stain with the child's blood. "VAT- I am not a babysitter! Vhy is zere a child on zis base, anyvay?!"

"We need to hurry." was the only response he got, from the Firebat.

Caden nodded. "Fine," she said, giving everyone their orders, "I’ll take point, Moragat bring up the rear, Teia blast anything that gets past the Firebat, and you..." She was looking at the Protoss at that point. "You kill anything that gets past me."

"Very well." was the Protoss' answer.

"Let's go." Caden reloaded her rifle and led the group down the halls.

Almost immediately, Reimund's attitude took a nosedive. He was one of the Confederacy's finest minds, yet he had to be escorted to safety by his own test subjects... It was bearable if they at least acknowledged him, but they instead had to give him a wounded boy to hold on to... He did nothing but slow the group down.

"Vhy are ve - und by 've,' I mean 'I' - carrying zis child around?" he asked angrily. "If zese 'Zerg' are anysing like ze local predators, his bleeding carcass vill do nussing but attract zem to us more kvickly!"

"Would you rather leave him to be eaten by those monsters?" the proto-Marauder asked in a sour tone.

"If it means saving ze rest of us, zen YES."

"You disgust me." the Protoss in front of him grumbled as the group ran down a staircase. Somewhere behind him, the familiar whoosh of a flamethrower and the unfamiliar scream of burning Zerg filled the air. The Firebat cursed over the horrible sounds, before they were silenced by a sudden explosion.

"Get moving!" Caden barked, kicking open a door. "The dock is only a few hundred... yards.......... .........oh, fuck......"

Reimund stepped around the giant alien in front of him to get a better look at whatever had broken her stride... He immediately wished he hadn't.

Stretching out in front of the five of them was the civilian's quarters. Temporary housing structures and Supply Depots covered the ground for several hundred yards, but the normally peaceful grounds had become a horribly one-sided warzone. Human bodies, many torn to shreds, were haphazardly strewn everywhere across the terrain. What few humans were still alive were running for their lives, screaming for help or for death as the Zerg attacked them and tore them open alive and kicking. Hundreds of the accursed creatures were scrambling around, chasing, feeding, destroying. Amidst them were larger creatures, snakelike in shape but bigger than Vultures, with giant pincers like a mantis' and skull-like faces lined with dozens of needle-like teeth.

"We can't go through THAT!" the proto-Marauder cried out.

"That's our only way out of here!" Caden yelled back.

"OUT OF THE WAY!"

The group was split apart for a moment as a gruff voice yelled out; several dozen Marines began pouring out of the doorway, rifles at the ready. The small battalion lined up in a cluster at the edge of the encampment.

"TAKE 'EM OUT!"

Immediately, the base was illuminated by what looked like lightning as a hundred rifles began to fire. The Zerg nearest the Marines were shredded instantly, their screeches of pain and death signalling the rest of the swarm to divert their attack.

"That's our cue!" Caden hollered, running after the Marines. "Let's go!"

Reimund followed Caden, the Ghost meeting little Zerg resistance as she bobbed and wove between Supply Depots. Now and then a few stray Zerg would pop up, but the Marines' and Caden's rifles quickly disposed of them.

"How much furzer?" Reimund called.

Caden didn't answer at first, the labyrinth of depots, soldiers, and corpses blocking most of her view. After a few more twists and turns, she finally answered: "Less than a hundred feet!"

Relief washed over the professor, but it was short-lived - a second later, a stray Zergling leapt from the roof of the depot beside him and onto the boy Reimund was carrying. He cried out and dropped the boy and his briefcase, falling back as the alien beast tried to orient itself, momentarily squashed under the boy's body.

"DOCTOR!" Caden cried out from somewhere ahead.

"Shoot it!" the Protoss' voice ordered.

"I can't - I'll hit him too!"

Reimund reached into his pocket and pulled out his C-7, barely bothering to aim. He unloaded three bullets before hitting the creature in its back, causing it to shriek in pain. More Zerg began to encroach on the area.

"We have to move!" one of the Marines ordered.

"But the boy-"

"Forget ze boy," Reiund snapped, grabbing his fallen briefcase and pocketing his gun, "he is dead veight!"

Any dirty looks the Doctor may have gotten went unnoticed by him as he urged Caden forward, towards the landing dock. The survivors finally got out of the maze of Depots and ran for the staircase, gunshots still ringing out almost constantly as the Zerg continued to fall. Despite outnumbering the Marines by more than 10 to 1, they fell surprisingly easily...

"Dead weight?" the proto-Marauder said angrily. "Those things are dropping like flies! We could have saved him!"

"They're nowhere near beaten yet." the Protoss warned.

"They look pretty dead to me." one of the Marines replied, the gunfire gradually lessening as one of the larger, scythe-handed creatures fell and crushed a burning Supply Depot.

"Indeed they do." the Protoss replied, looking up. "They, however, do not."

The Marines - and everyone else - looked up. Their eyes all went wide - dozens of creatures the same color as the Zerg were descending from overhead. They resembled floating crabs or lobsters, with humongous, bloated bodies covered in twitching spines.

Legs.

Legs attached to small, quadrupedal bodies.

Small quadrupedal bodies that began to drop like a deadly rain.

"...It's time to go." Caden said, running for the cockpit of the Dropship. "Everyone get in, NOW!"

No further insistence was needed - Reimund was the first one inside the dropship bay. The Protoss was right behind him, followed by the proto-Marauder, Firebat, and a few dozen Marines and surviving civilians. The Dropship's main door began to close, when a gigantic pair of claws suddenly reacheinto the narrowing gap, grasping at the door and pulling it open again.

"FIRE DAMMIT FIRE!"

The Marines began emptying what little ammo they had left at that opening. If the door was damaged too heavily, it couldn't be sealed. If that happened...

Thankfully, the Firebat leapt into actions before Reimund could think too much further along that line. His flamethrower incinerated the intruding claws while doing minimal damage to the door. With a howl of pain and anger, the alien monster withdrew. The door closed and sealed the cabin as the Dropship hummed to life and lifted off the ground, the land-bound alien invaders unable to assaulting it any further as it took off for a safer haven.

Wherever THAT was...

------------------------------------------

WE'RE ALIVE!

Or, at least, most of us are...

[Pichu Luver]

Kelnari Perturbed

‘Freedom at last.’ Despite having only barely escaped the Zerg, and having no idea where she was headed, Kelnari was relieved. She was free of restraints and in a position to deal with the humans. Their thoughts concerning her ranged from uncertainty to near murderous anger, but that was fine. She would die by her own choices again, and not some tinkering physician.

She wished she had found him before the female had helped her. The one scientist that had been left behind to get her ready for transport had been nervous and made mistakes. Chiefly, trusting her suddenly good behaviour and undoing her legs to speed movement. It had been more than enough to kick him, press the button to turn off the Abyss cursed helmet, and completely free herself.

After learning where her gear was stored from his mind she had killed him and run to the area. A few shots had come her way, but mostly the humans were too shocked and confused to shoot at one rapidly moving being that was not attacking them. Once she had regained her armour however, she had rained lightening and vengeance upon all she could find who had helped in her confinement. The Zerg too, but she was doubtful she could get out of here and wanted only to take all her tormentors down with her. At least until ‘Caden’ had shot in her defense. She apparently had a plan to get out and with that shot, said was willing to take her along.

Temporary allies it would seem; so no killing Ordentlicher.

Kelnari turned to stare at said ‘doctor’. He was seated near the front, talking to Caden, who was currently plotting their course. She greatly wished to kill him, but doing so now was not likely to lead to her continued existence. He apparently was of some import to the other humans on this ship. Even if they too, did not like him, they would apparently defend him.

If as proof that humans carried a latent if not always active psychonic talent, Ordentlicher looked over his shoulder and met Kelnari’s gaze. He was not afraid of her, for all he was repulsive life form, he was not stupid. He knew she could do nothing here. However, the second she could manage it…

“Is zere nozing ve can do about her?”

“I could try to shoot her again sir, but she’d probably kill us first. Confined space and all.”

Ordentlicher glared at the female, apparently affronted at her reply. Kelnari did not respond, though it did amuse her slightly. The only reply she found appropriate would likely have found her trussed up again. For now, due to helping save their lives, she was nominally trusted.

Currently she stood in the centre aisle of the dropship, holding on to a bar running the length of the ship. For obvious reasons the human vessel had not designed its seats for 2.8 metre aliens with retrograde legs, so Kelnari was forced to stand. Thankfully the ship was tall enough she was not forced to crouch.

“Why exactly did we let that… thing, board anyway?” One of the marines, the one with the murderous thoughts toward her asked. He was not the only one wondering though.

“You’re missing something marine.”

“The question still stands, SIR. How do we know those things weren’t more of its kind? That they were there to rescue it, and now it’s—”

Irritated, Kelnari cut him off. :Idiot creature. I look NOTHING like the Zerg. Do you not have eyes to see? A brain to think?:

Instead of responding the ‘marine’ reached for his gun. Before he could do more than touch it she psychically yanked from him and raised it to point it at his temple.

Of course this had the consequence of having everyone else immediately pointing their weapon at HER.

“EVERYONE stand down! Alien, drop the gun if you don’t want to be riddled with holes. Marine, fucking use your brain, if she had wanted you dead you would be. Now, can I please fly the God damn ship and not have to deal with you children?”

Grumbling, Kelnari let the gun drop to the floor. The soldier, a little whiter than he had been a moment ago, snatched it up. With varying degrees of quickness the others lowered their weapons.

After a few moments of tense silence one of the soldiers asked, “Sir, where are we headed?”

“Mar Sara City, it’s the only settlement still responding to hails.”

‘Grand, more humans…’

[Mew Master]

Tracer
Location: Outpost 29, Civilian District, Personal Quarters
Date: 4.17.2500, 0023 Hours
”I don't care if it's not outfitted with a repulsor! It's either we get this tin can off the ground or join the rest of the corpses out there!”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~

Ethan was woken up, not by the sounds of the exploding minefield, the rockets at the edge of the base launching and hitting their targets, or the alarm. It was the sound of his computer kicking on with a pre-programed response.

“Notice! Notice! Multiple explosions recorded around the exterior perimeter of Outpost 29. Repeat: Notice! Notice!”

After just barley nodding off and getting some needed rest, Ethan rolled out of bed, nearly landing on the floor. He scrambled for a foothold as his computer screen went wild with information about the current situation.

“Re-report?” He mumbled sleepily.

“Scanners indicate that 70% of the minefield around Outpost 29 have detonated. Average time between detonations was 0.35 seconds. Rocket turrets along the north and east walls have activated and multiple hits have been confirmed. Analysis suggests a large force is moving towards Outpost 29. Defensive perimeters have been holding.”

“Ethan!” his father banged on the door. “Ethan wake up!”

“I'm already up dad,” he ran to the door to his room, throwing it open. “What's going on? Are we under attack?”

“I don't know, but alarms are going off all over the place.”

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of metal being bent back and torn. Gunfire erupted at the other end of the Outpost, between them and the main base, followed by screaming.

“Come on, let's move!” his father exclaimed. Ethan grabbed some clothes, changing along the way. Granted, while his father had been at the bottom of the barrel back on Tarsonis, he had managed to have several contingency plans for his families well being.

He started hearing screams through the walls after the gunfire went silent. This time they were closer, part of the civilian district. There was no sounds of mass explosions or heavy machines. There were screeches. Loud, high-pitched shrieks that almost split his ears, sounds of high velocity objects flying through the air and hitting objects like massive darts.

Light shone in through the windows as the entire base went on high alert. Through the windows Ethan caught glimpses of people running from their homes, and being taken by either large shadowy creatures or mobbed by smaller things.

“Move son!” his father screamed. Downstairs was Ethan's mom and younger sister, already huddled together with what they could carry. Ethan grabbed a few things form his computer stand, a small pad with ties to the computer system, a few pictures, and a set of tools. Have to pick up the pieces again somewhere.

Ethan's father creaked the front door open, but then shut it, his face pale and afraid. “Out the back way,” He started to move away from the door, just as something slammed into it, causing the metal to bend and crack. The Vasil family started running through their home, once a place of serenity now a maze to navigate.

The front door burst apart as a small pack of ugly, red, brown,and yellow quadrupeds with no eyes entered. Shreiking, their mandibles and clawed extremities gnashing together in excitement, or hunger, it was hard to tell. Ethan's father got them to the back door first, but not before Ethan's sister was snagged and dragged off, covered in a swirling mass of claws, teeth, and membrane. His mother wasn't close behind, as she held onto the young girl, but only pulling back part of her arm, before she too was swarmed by two of the rampaging creatures.

Ethan saw both his mother and sister devoured as his dad pulled him out the back door.

Chaos. It was the only thing that could describe it. Bullets flew even as the civilian quarters were overrun. Overrun by a moving swarm of nightmarish horror. People tried to flee in terror, before being out paced by the small pack-like animals. His father was pulling him, his son half in shock and fear, as they tried to out-maneuver the carnage now surrounding them. Shrieks and roars pierced through the night in response to the explosion of bullets.

The ground beneith them erupted as something burrowed under the father and son. A massive monster with a skull-like face and lower-hanging mandibles separated Ethan from his father. Ethan hit the ground hard, skidding along the ground, which was starting to become slimy. Whether from blood, oil, or something else, he didn't know.

“Ethan, RUN!” He tried to pick himself up, adrenaline rushing through his system. He ran, ran for the millitary hanger, for some kind of escape route.

Snarling, the beast arched its back at the running human, and dozens of sharp blades blasted out from its back. The blades whizzed by Ethan, missing him by feet for some, inches by others. He hit a block in his path, and turned around to see his ground. The beast was still at the entry way it had carved, and what un-nerved Ethan the most, was that it was staring at him, like a cat does with a cornered mouse, about ready to make the killing blow.

Ethan's mind started to recognize the analogy. The next thing he knew was that his left arm wasn't responding, and he heard the clinks and thunks as blades rammed into the blockade he had run into. Time almost slowed down for Ethan, as he looked down at his left arm, and saw it laying on the floor, severed just past his shoulder. Blood was slowly pooling around the laceration, and even in the night he could see the bone and muscle, cleanly cut like a fresh cut of meat.

Then the pain set in, an intense and nearly overwhelming lightning bolt of neurons firing off and informing his brain that his arm was no longer part of his body. The pain dropped the young man to his knees, as blood started to soak his body.

Ethan wasn't aware of much, shock setting in. He felt, but didn't hear, the shots fired into the creature, hitting it's elongated skull first, then two more slicing through the rest of the face and body, dropping it. He didn't see his savior at first, but he started to become aware of the sensation of being picked up, or hauled up.

Lightning struck everywhere, and Ethan's inattentive gaze tried to focus, tried to find out what was going on. His vision was coming and going, he thought he saw a tall blue creature, controlling the forces of nature against the monsters around. Some things were said, some dialogue, but Ethan couldn't hear it. The only sounds he could remember were his mom and sister dying, and his dad telling him to run. He was being held up, high above the ground by the blue alien, by the scruff of his collar.

The next few moments were a haze to him. Being held, moving across the ground as the world whirled around in motion. Being dropped, on the back of something screaming before sonic vibrations ended its pain, the impact vibrations the only feeling Ethan had at the moment.

A fleeting feeling.

Ethan suddenly felt very alone, as he laid there, his head on its side. His gaze looking almost through the open jaw of the creature he was dropped on, the same kind that took his mom and sister. Through those open jaws he saw the fires and blasts of gun-fire unleashed by fleeing marines, even as civilians, some he knew, were running past, and being dropped like flies. Swarmed over by predators, ravenous and emotionless.

I'm going to die. The first cognizant thought Ethan had since the beginning of this hell. Since his mom and sister were torn apart, since his arm was sliced off and left for dead on top of an alien corpse.

“Ethan!” A voice cut through the silence. It was his father, as he saw the familiar face, stained with blood and scratches. “Oh my God Ethan.”

“D-dad?” Ethan's voice was breaking.

His father offered no other words except carrying his sun, and running. Ethan's father was a large man, with a decent amount of strength and stamina for his build. If he had gone into sports, he would have been a lineman or a blocker. Now he used his mass and momentum to get him and his injured son to the drop ship that was currently powering up. Ethan barely recognized this even as the world blurred around him as his body was being carried, like a football, down to the wire for a last touchdown to win the game. Even the strange creatures in the sky with their crab-like legs looked like balloons cheering on one team or the other.

So frantic and burly, his father pushed through even the small crowd of civilians making it to the ship. The engines fired up and Ethan and his father were the last ones on. A few of the medics that had managed to escape the carnage were called over, and started to stop Ethan's bleeding. Ethan's mind was starting to come back to him, even as all voices but his father's were filtered down.

The ship shook, causing Ethan and his father to slide down, back to the doors. He felt his momentum stopped and looked. He saw a pair of massive claws start to pry open the drop ship doors, and smaller ones clamoring for whatever they could. Ethan's father had a hold of him, even as Marine's marched to the doors and started to fire. Their bullets ricocheting off of the metal as much as the creature bringing the ship down.

He felt his weight being pulled up, as his father tried to hand him off to someone, anyone. Ethan, and everyone else, were surprised when the blue alien grabbed him and hauled his body farther into the deck. Ethan tried to reach for his father, not wanting to let go, even as two smaller claws grabbed his father, puncturing his torso, causing blood to spurt out from his mouth.

“Ethan...” his dad struggled as his son's grip started to slip. “Sur... vive.” His grip slipped, Ethan grabbing onto the bracelet his father had worn as a gift from his mother after the birth of his sister. He could only watch, as the Firebat soldier stepped forth and unloaded two jets of flame at the creature, causing it to let go of the ship, taking Ethan's father with it.

With shock, finally setting in, Ethan felt the sensation of the ship moving, but not it's acceleration. He heard the voices talking around him, but knew not what they said. The people around him he saw, but he did know know who they were. He felt his body being patched up as best they could, but did not care.

His family was gone, and he was alone.

So very alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~

Dead weight?! Why I outta.... *fist shake *

[Samchu]

Teia
~~~~

The briefing over, I made my way over to the barracks. I didn’t bother to communicate with any of the others, not out of rudeness, but because my mind was distracted. Shepard. How long had it been since I’d last been on a mission with her? The chill in my bones told me that it hadn’t been long enough. What’s she doing here? We’d shared missions in the past, enough for me to know that the only time they sent her was because they anticipated a shittier shit fest than most missions managed to cough up. Which means there’s more going on here than they’re letting on. I didn’t like it. This was supposed to be a nothing mission and we had a nothing team to work it with. It was supposed to be simple, quiet. But now…now I had to reconsider everything. I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit.

I found the duties roster and sought out my name. Apparently I had evening patrol with a Corporal Bryant. A part of me was annoyed to be given such a mundane task, especially in light of my new concerns, but it was to be expected. I was supposed to getting back into shape, not running into the middle of conflict. Of course with Shepard here, that’s still very much a possibility. I frowned and headed for the bar. I needed a drink for my newly rattled nerves and who knows; maybe someone would start mentioning something interesting once the alcohol started loosening their tongues.

~~~

The Corporal and I met outside the barracks once the fading light signalled the start of our patrol. To my relief, he kept conversation short and formal. The last thing I needed was to miss something important because I’d been saddled with an over-talkative partner. That being said, perhaps a slightly more talkative partner would have been a hidden blessing. Nothing happened on this outpost. Even as the night grew darker and the alcohol ran thicker in the miners’ bloods we were met with no hostility; no brawls, no vandalism. I was almost starting to believe it was going to be a quiet night.

Almost.

When the first explosion sounded the Corporal and I turned to face one another. No words were said but we knew what the other one was thinking: did that really just happen, or are we so bored here we’re starting to think it did? But then there were more explosions. For a moment, I thought maybe they were fireworks; their bursts were so close to one another. But there was no denying the reality of the situation, no misplacing the vibrations we felt in the ground beneath our feet.

We ran.

We hadn’t even made half way to the minefield when we saw them, the stuff of nightmares, an all-consuming swarm with the fires of hell burning behind them.

“Sergeant…”

We can’t fight them. A civilian ran out of a nearby home only to be knocked down by one of the creatures. Growling, it pinned her, tearing at her throat as the others circled her body and closed in, devouring her. I’ve never seen anything like it. Never. We can’t fight this. Not here, not with so few.

“Sergeant! What do we do?”

I looked at the Corporal. When one can’t fight one runs. You run, you regroup, and you win the next round. “Evacuate.” As I had done so often in the past, I let fear and panic fall beneath the feet of instinct. Years of training piled on top of generations of breeding knew the right course of action to take. “We split up and head for the dropships. Any civilians we find between here and there we take with us.”

“Is it wise to split up?”

“Against those things, no. But we stand no better chance together. This way, more innocent lives might be saved. Just try not to die, okay?” I saluted him quickly. “See you on the other side, Corporal.”

We went our separate ways. Him towards the more populated areas of the outpost and me towards the taverns. By the time I reached the first one, it was already too late. Screams tore through the open windows. The lights were off but even the shadow betrayed the horror that was going on inside. Nothing to hide the sound those monsters ate as they fed. I sighed and fired a grenade into the bar. The walls tore apart as the explosion ripped through the building. A terrible way to die. But a mercy compared to being eaten alive by those things.

Turning, I caught sight of Shepard and some others. Whatever my feelings towards the ghost might have been, there was no denying that the best place for me right now was probably with her.

“Shepard!” I called out as I neared the group. That was when I noticed it, the thing that was no right about the situation. The thing that was large and blue. What the fuck is going on here? “What the-” The thought in my mind tried to force itself out of my mouth but Shepard was quick to cut me off.

“She’s a friend.”

From there we made our formations and our plans to continue on to the dropships. Our assailants were also finally given a name, Zerg. I turned the name over in my head as we battled on. Had I seen it before? Heard it passing maybe? Was there anything, anywhere, somewhere back there, that might give us some insight into these terrible things? But I could think of nothing. Not even one of those stories made to scare children in their beds. Could something so terrible really have escaped our notice for so long?

The smell of burning Zerg grew strong enough to turn my stomach but even in that stench there was comfort. At least we can burn them. The Firebat cursed above the screeches of roasting Zerg and I put another grenade to work. Little Zerg limbs flew across the landscape. And blow them up. They’re not immortal. Maybe, maybe we can find a way to beat them.

* * *

We had made it. Somehow, I didn’t know how but somehow, we were safe. For now at least. Even the boy, the one we had been forced to leave behind, had made it to us. But his father had been lost in the process. How many lives had we failed to save to today? But what could we have done differently? We were too few to fight them. I looked at the survivors. But is this really it? Is this really all we could save?

I looked at the scientist and felt a surge of anger within me. How many had he left to die on that outpost? How many might he alone have saved? If he hadn’t abandoned the boy, might his father have survived to? Stop it. I forced myself to look away. He was no more selfish than most humans. Look at yourself. Who did you save? Wasn’t it you who sent Bryant off on his own? He’s probably dead now. Dead because you failed to understand the gravity of the situation. He’d be alive if he stayed with you.

But there was no time for self-loathing. The other creature had taken hold of one of the marines’ guns and had it pointed towards him. There was the collective sound of the guns being aimed. I found myself on my feet, unable to fire but ready to act if necessary.

“EVERYONE stand down! Alien, drop the gun if you don’t want to be riddled with holes. Marine, fucking use your brain, if she had wanted you dead you would be. Now, can I please fly the God damn ship and not have to deal with you children?” Shepard’s voice came from ahead. The alien dropped the gun and the humiliated marine retrieved it quickly as his comrades rested their guns. I returned to my seat.

“Sir, where are we headed?” I didn’t see who spoke as I was too busy mulling over something in my mind.

“Mar Sara City, it’s the only settlement still responding to hails.”

Still responding? How bad is it? Idiot. It’s probably really bad. You know better than to assume that was the only force those creatures had. I looked across at the alien, standing like a blue tower above us. She knew their name. What else does she know?

“Those things those…Zerg. Do you know how many are out there?” It was hard directing a question towards something you didn’t have a name for, and somehow I expected calling her ‘alien’ or ‘blue’ was more likely to get me killed than listened to. This creature, whatever she was, was intelligent. Maybe she had the answers we’d need to defeat these things.






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Tag Rio.
Sorry it cuts off the recap randomly in the middle but I got to 1500 words and got lazy.

[Pichu Luver]

Kelnari Weary

“Those things those…Zerg. Do you know how many are out there?”

Kelnari turned to the female in—to her anyway—a very bulky suit. These humans seemed to have to bulk themselves up to ridiculous proportions in order to be semi-effective fighters. Kelnari wondered how she managed to move in the thing. In her estimation there was no grace in fighting afforded to these creatures.

With a brief brush into her mind she saw she called herself Teia, but with a confusing mesh of a last name. She did not understand their practice of last names, a being had a name and what did one need another for? These warriors also had the habit of calling each other by said last name, when that was not what they called their’ given’ name. It was beyond confusing.

In any event this human was one of those who were merely uncertain about her, and to Kelnari’s amused satisfaction, worried about offending her.

:I am uncertain as to their total number, but my people estimate their number in the billions…and you are correct my hrmmm etiquette has been lacking. I am Kelnari of the Sargas Tribe, Templar Caste. My ‘race’ as you say, calls itself the Protoss:

“BILLIONS?” Teia looked shocked and slightly white at the thought. The rest of the people, those not preoccupied with saving the young male humans life, looked equally as dismayed. Even the doctor looked a bit worried. However—

“Ze Protoss?” he asked, looking like one of the Conclave who had gotten a choice bit of information about a rival. It had been a quiet statement, mostly to his self. He looked nearly the most pleased she had ever seen him.

‘Queen…’ she thought to herself and turned her attention back to the others, they were asking more questions.

“Is there anything worse than… whatever those were?” Teia asked. She seemed to have become the spoke person for this group, at least when it came to talking to her.

:Much worse. They were merely first wave troops. They have flying creatures that can actually attack, unlike what we saw today. Those flying beings merely transport their fellow brethren. There are other land based creatures that are truly monstrous, and would make those today look small by comparison. Thankfully they are relatively rare:

The cabin went quiet for a minute, then the man who had flamed the door asked, "Do you have names for sese creaturrres? Seirrr types I mean.”

:We do, though they are not vocally easy to say. The hmmm ‘hell crickets’ are most easily translated to Zergling. The bladed ones are… do you have a name for a creature of many deaths? Many multiplying?”

Nothing was immediately forthcoming until, “There was the hydra in ancient Earth mythology. You chopped off one head and two more came back.” Caden called from the cockpit.

:Yes. Hydra…lisk would be a close translation then.”

“And ze flying ones?” asked Ordentlicher.

Kelnari glared at him, but deigned to answer. :The flying creatures are… a kind of overseer, making sure they do the will of the Zerg whole. They are near useless except in the capacity of sighting invisible things and, as you saw, transportation.:

“Offerlord zen,” stated Ordentlicher. “Lords are useless.”

There might have been more questions but Caden spoke over the com, “We’re approaching Mar Sara City, prepare yourselves for landing.” Kelnari could feel the ship slowing down, and wondered how exactly she was going to get off this ship without getting shot at.