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Bis should talk to Valla sometime.

ooc: tadah! Only a little late.
bic:


'Spare creds?'
'Naw mate, none spare' the coins jingled as the pedestrian placed his hands back in his pockets.
'Stingy p***k' muttered Turps, almost too much in character, and almost certainly too loud. The pedestrian turned around.
'What you call me you vile little toad?'
'Stingy and come to think about it, a p***k as well' Turps beamed, if the idiot sent a boot his way he would know what to do. It wouldn't put him off schedule.
'Well then, that is a shame. I always knew you were cocky, Andrejz, and you never fail to prove it. As I said I ain't got no change, but this will tide you over.'
The utterly nondescript pedestrian tossed a micro dossier into the lap of the false vagrant. Turps gave it a brief glance as it fell on his lap, barely acknowledging it.
'till next time boss, and for the record, you are a stingy p***k'
'I aim to please, oh, and speaking of aim' the nondescript man made a non-committal shrugging gesture down the busy street. Not more than 30 seconds later one of the commuters was dead, stabbed through the heart with a 6 inch nano-tube syringe.

The poison was probably overkill, Turps thought as he walked away, the crowd was dispersing behind him, leaving behind the collapsed businessman. Nobody cared, well, nobody wanted to care, Commuters really were heartless bastards.

The mag-lev underpass wasn't much of a lair and it wasn't particularly secret, any vagrant was welcome to come over and share a ciggy or a swig from a brown b-degrade bag, but it was convenient. The homeless were a good source of info, and often insight. Being blind drunk all day for a few years tended to open the mind. Turps had enjoyed this assignment, even taking a leisurely few months to plan, he had so far retained his honour of 'untraceable', 45 hits and not a single lead in the subsequent investigations (from the few that even discovered foul play). This new one troubled him, talk of 'strike teams', 'military action', 'Alliance ships' and 'top secret', this wasn't going to end well. He knew this had something to do with those recent indictments against the Parliament, apparently the killing of senator Dresaan Tosjquerer was 'a step too far', if the Parliament had revealed the reason for his assassination the politicians would have soon changed their tact. It always irked Turps, that one fundamental tenet, 'Our motives are those of the client, our motives are their secret, not ours', if the alliance had known what the Quarra Senator Dresaan Tosjquerer like to do to human and Arcturan babies, well, the indictments and warrants would disappear fast. He would accept this writ however, as far as he knew no other parliament members would be present, so best to show 'em how it's done.

With the winnings of his begging he treated his clothes to the ultrasonic laundrette. He stood over the machine in only his underpants, mercifully clean, he got no looks as many of the current customers were doing the same. Truth be known, it wasn't the classiest joint in town. With the last of the money he bought a bottle of Malt, the military concierge flight would not be particularly exciting.

The star liner was a sleek affair, Lightly armed and mostly engine block, it was even inner atmosphere-dynamic. It was almost certainly one of the boats used to ferry high command, jetting them from one war to the next to give young men a pat on the back for prolonging the wars they started. Once inside he noted an important detail, alcohol, this boat had a full selection, this won't be so bad.

Dammit, he thought as he rubbed his stubbly jaw, he hadn't shaved or washed in 3 or 4 days, his clothes were mercifully clean, he had changed into his silk dressing gown when he boarded the flight. It flapped around his body revealing his naked chest as he strode the distance between the heavy doors. He stumbled into the taciturn hanger drunk and still clutching last nights drink, the malt he had bought all those weeks before, a last resort, it was half empty now, he had drank top brass dry. He was barefoot so the hanger floor felt doubly cold. It was then he finally saw the 'strike team'. They had all, without exception, 'made an effort', alien military uniforms, immaculately pressed formal dress, even the ostensibly more casual showed deep concern for their images, macho posturing and caressing weapons singularly.

Peacocks, he smirked, time to ruffle some feathers.

I must post soon...

Player: Darksage
Name- Dender Almerias
Species: Arcturan
Career- Diplomat
Equipment- Diplomatic Writ, Robes, Recorder Drone, Translator Collar, Combat Knife, Plasma Pistol
Backstory/Bio- Dender's family was a noble one. His father had always desired for him to be a great general leading troops into battle and winning honor for them, it was his birth right to fight for their race. Dender always felt like their were better ways for him to serve his race that didn't involve getting incinerated on the front lines. He thought he would put his silver tongue to use and attempt to be a Diplomat. With his name it was easy to get a position. With war all over the galaxy there was always jobs for those to broker peace among worlds.
Best Quality- Cunning, Dender never liked a fight but presented with one he could always find a way to either deceive his enemies or avoid the confrontation all together.
Worst Quality- Cowardice, Dender is no warrior and he knows this full well. If given a way out he will take it.

(Will fix up and edit in a bit. I'm going ot write more backstory.)

welcome, cannon fodder, you sure jumped here late.

Shirk looked around quietly. Her rifle was concealed on her back. She slowly unfolds herself and crawls out of the vent. She drops into a square room. Her appointed quarters. She now knew the only two ways into it. She`d have to booby trap the vent. She set her weapon on her bed, for she didnt need it. Cephran slept upright. She went over to the computer in the room and accessed it. She typed furiously with her eight tentacles, typing several times the speed of a human. She accessed the ships logs, and bypassed security. She finally found the roster. She examined it. They all seem like fortune hunters, special ops, or just plain old mercanaries like herself. She didnt know any of them and didnt wish too. She didnt like others, but she`d help all the same. She then looked up specifics on each, those she couldnt bypass the security to get too. She cursed and turned the computer off. She then picked up a small multi tool from the work bench and went back into the vent to booby trap it.

Tennisk wandered aimlessly down the halls, his antenna triangulating the hanger he was tor report to. He grimaced slightly, he had not had the chance to clean his uniform. The ‘First to Fight’ motto of the 32nd marines was smudged with ash, and the ‘Fringe Battalion’ emblem was caked with soot. It looked like ‘Fridge Battalion’
The Vernid’s pants where slightly torn around the leggings, like many of his race, he had no reason for boots. The talons proved a useful tool in close combat.
He made a halfhearted attempt to straighten out the burns and acid scorching, but it was really a lost cause. Tennisk straightened his helmet to is rested more comfortably on his antennae. He then clicked his mandibles once and entered the quarters assigned to him
His mandibles clicked once as he looked around the room, he would have to increase the temp, add some scenic’s and other stuff, but all was fine it seemed.
He walked over to an intel terminal.
He attempted to access the files on the others but found security blocking them, he fiddled around in his bag and produced a blank card, after some more fiddling the card had an intricate patter weaved to it, he flashed it at the optiproccesor and stood back as the holofiles on several strike team members were pulled up.
Blackwood: Human: Spec ops: cryofrozen on earth, participated in the exol wars, received the following: medal of courage, exolian war veteran’s medal, valor award, airdrop medal.
Shirk: Cephran: infil: CLASSIFIED
He checked all the names, then he signed off and sat down on his bunk, he had found out that all the team members were being housed in the same bulkhead, the room to his left was inhabited by Shirk, while the room to his right was inhabited by Juran.
There was some banging in the vents, this made Tennisk hungry, the Vernid hoisted himself into the vents and adopted the cave-hunting posture of his species, he grabbed hi ‘9 and continued down the vet system in search for any vermin that would make a good snack.

After a while he returned, his uniform was cleaned, but several smudges and the odd acid stain still prevailed. He donned his gear and set off towards the briefing room, several others were heading there as well.

The next morning, Arastrax boarded a Class IV shuttle and made his way to the orbital space station above Xylan Prime. The shuttle was nice enough, nothing special, but by no means uncomfortable. They had soon docked with the station, and Arastrax made his way to Jump Gate Delta-1. He slid smoothly and wordlessly into the jump pod, and prepared for launch. The interior of the jump pod was a smooth, white, plastic, giving it a very ordinary feel. But however much the designers had tried to make it look normal, the experience of going through a jump gate was anything but routine.
The clamps supporting the pod released, and it dropped into the gravity net below the boarding plank. The ion ram concealed behind inside the docking bay charged, can the propulsion unit glowed with a bright blue light. The capacitor released its charge and opened the gate. The swirling vortex flashing into life. The propulsion unit discharged, and the pod shot forwards into the gate. The light flashed past as Arastrax shot across the galaxy in the blink of an eye, the pod calmly popping into existence in the Deneb system.

The pod was swiftly picked up by a transport, and taken to the command ship moored above one of the larger planets in the system. Arastrax got out of the pod, and looked at the crewman’s hand which was outstretched towards him.
“Do you want a hand up?” The crewman said to the scientist.
Arastrax contemplated the meaning of this gesture for a moment, before resuming his journey to the briefing. The crewman looked very puzzled as the Exolian ignored his offer of a help up, he obviously hadn’t met Exolians before. The crewman watched as Arastrax left the room, his metal exoskeleton clanking on the steel deck of the hanger bay. He then proceeded to unpack the scientists luggage, placing it is a transporter ready for it to be taken to his quarters.

The door hissed quietly open as Arastrax approached the briefing room, his newly recovered research drone hovering beside him. The head of the university had given him the drone shortly before he departed Xylan Prime, and Arastrax had decided to test it out. As he looked around the briefing room, data files on each of the people present flashing onto his digital display as he looked at them, he thought about the group.
‘Many different species and specialties from very varied backgrounds,’ he though.
‘Potential for personality clashes?’ He considered, running it through his internal processor, ‘98.971%’
He took his seat and waited for the briefing to start.

Terrence looked around the room taking in all the different species that were filtering in. The Exolian amused him. He had fought against them before but that was just a job, he had never had any real slight against them. His hands worked over his rifle calmly flowing over all of the prememorised bumps and patterns on the stock, all of the parts. Terrence was a man of principle, usually one principle, kill or be killed, and his rifle was the one thing that had helped him to that end consistantly in this time.

He brought up some personell files on his visor interface cradling the visor in his lap instead of wearing it. The personell files were security locked but Terrence simply entered his galactic idencode into the helmet interface and he was granted access. There were benifits to having worked for almost every single major race and government in the sector he mused. The files were by and by large unsurprising and he made a mental note to update them as the missions unfolded. He had a degree in multi-species psyk and was a qualified mental examiner under the Terran government. He had found the time to take the exams some time in his early years in this time and he had never regretted it. The knowlege of the way these people ticked was a valuable tool in his business.

He could analyze all of the members of the room. Most were carbon copies of thier race stereo-type, this amused him to no end. It seemed the more races that Humanity included into its galactic federation the moe it realised that most of them were one minded and unsubtle creatures. The vernid was by and by large someone who he could respect. Looking around himself serristipulously, almost sneaky enough not to be noticed. The Quarra he had already met, aa fellow soldier, excellent. The infiltrator might be a problem. He may know how thier minds tick but he had never had to kill a Cephran before. If things turned ugly he may just have to spray and pray. Not something he enjoyed doing.

He noticed a certain arrogance throughout the room. Everyone in there Terrence included tended to think they were the best at what they did. For some it had been proven. Blackwood himself was the best LADT in the business. The Quarra was clearly at the top of his species peak condition and the Cephran was undoubtedly efficient in her tasks. The vernid came across as someone who skated by on a mixture of good luck and some trained skills. But at the same time was reliable in the way that good luck seemed to folow him everywhere. And the Exolian... Exolians were hard to read but by the way this one was nervously avoiding the Cephran and the Quarra it clearly had a slight xenophobia which amused Terrance to no end. Of course he could be wrong and it was just coincedence. it often was with those damn scientists, no matter how much they tried to analyse things coincedence seemed to dog them like a plague.

Blackwood placed his visor on the table and shutted it down. Then standing he stretched loudly and obviously before collapsing back in his chair and watched. The Quarran seemed unnafected as did the Exolian but the Vernid made a couple of nervous stretches on reflex and the Cephran seemed to notice his ploy and flicked a tentacle at him. he nodded back imperceptibly but he knew the Infiltrator would have got the message. Terrance was searching for signs of discomfort and he had picked that up in the Vernid. Psycologically speaking if a person stretched and showed comfort in an unfimiliar environment then those who were ucomfortable with the situation for what ever reason tended to emulate them to appear just as comfortable. It was a nervous reflex wired into the brain of almost every sentient species he had encountered.

He got up purposefully and strode over to the Vernid taking his mask and rifle with him. Stopping infront of the bug he extended a gloved hand and the Vernid looked askance at it for a few seconds before realising and shaking it gingerly, as if Terrence had the augue. Blackwood chuckled coldly and in an even colder and more measured voice calml said:
"No need to be worried Vernid, we're all in this together?"
He looked at the vernid cautiously and picked up a bit of soot on the insects uniform. On one of his badges. Blackwood grinned.
"And dont worry about being pristine infront of troopers. Ive fought alongside your lot before and we had more grime than that on us"

IC:....

....The massive E'Nathi moved slowly, almost purposely into the dimly lit interior of the small cantina causing several patrons to fall silent and glance towards the exit..knowing the reputation of E'Nathi and the fact that some where employed as both bounty hunter and assian did little to elevate their fears as the hulking reptilian moved passed them towards the bar...

" Mer'Kwik" The E'Nathi said eying the human behind the bar
" W..We don't serve that here." The man said, his voice trembling slightly " Closest we have to Mer'Kwik here is Gallroo.."
The E'Nathi grunted and shook his massive head.." Gallroo ..Bah, drink for younglings..females...and Humans'' The E'Nathi snorted " Bzkaa then...or do you not have that either Earther ?"
The Bartender nodded, not wishing to anger the giant beast leering over his bar " We have Bzkaa...I'll just fetch some for you shall I?"
The E'Nathi grunted and made a dismisive gesture at the human, who quickly moved to pour the drink..
K'lawvak turned his back to the human and let his eyes move across the interior of the bar, he felt a pang of disgust...Humans, a table of arguing Nygax..It would be difficult for him to find work of any meaning amongst these Frekla's..
He turned back to the bar and lifted his tankard, draining it in three swallows and ordering another...when it was set before him the E'Nathi glared at the bartender...
" Tell us Earther.." K'lawvak snarled " Where one finds them who seek warriors...?"

OOC:...Well, not great..but at least I got an intro up.

Turps let out a large belch, there were refreshments at this briefing, though clearly they hadnt read his hopper. The beer they provided was of the finest quality. It even came in poncey glass bottles, glass bottles?! he thought, how horribly 21st century, what next? Play some Halo? Invade Venezuela? He soon realised the pointlessness of his train of thought, not even that funny. No, the beer he liked was the cheap stuff, keep in touch with your roots.

This was the 'boiler room' he could tell, command had clearly felt it best to assemble the team together in a confined space and see them sweat it out. The briefing was already ten minutes late, Turps figured it would be at least another fifteen. The officers were probably watching them right now flagging up any noteworthy interactions.

The belch seemed to intrige the Exolian opposite him, its head tilting slightly on it's actuator, odd, very little seemed to intrigue Exolians in Turps' experience.
'What's the damage?'
'If you are referring to gases within your emmission, i say nominal, although your blood alchohol is impressively high'
'Impressive?'
'Well in relative terms, you appear to have a tolerance 3 standard deviations above the galactic norm'
Humans were the best drinkers it was true, enathi were always shamed by this and didnt like humans bringing it up. Infact many human women partook in enathi Blood ale due to it's low alchoholic content and refreshing taste.
'I will take that as an exolian Complement'
'I was merely stating the facts, though take it as you will' the mechanical head squinted and tilted further at an angle
A smile?

The exolians always respected those that could comprehend their technology and Turps was amongst these few. The TOAD field he wore as well as the sneak gun in his mouth were exolian in design.

'It is dangerous to carry such a weapon in your mouth Mr.....?'
'Turps, Call me Turps'
'Unfamiliar, the file appears to show you as Andrejz, humans prefer their first names do they not?'
'So you did read my file! Anything good?'
'Curious, i would have to admit not, the parliament is rather private in it's affairs and the affairs of it's associates.'
'it's the beta particles isnt it?'
'Indeed (No matter how much you derailed a conversation an exolian would always immediately pick it back up, a positive atribute for sure) without the shielding of your dermal layer the beta particles could harm your gums and inner lining'
'Well, i'm just a pretty rock n'roll guy'
'Human for reckless?'
'Pretty much...'

'Oh and your name?'
'Arastrax'
He leaned over and offered a hand to the alien. The robotic being merely look at it curiously.
'That would be a human hand, thank you for sharing'
For the briefiest moment Turps saw a playful smile drawn in the aliens body language, as soon as it appeared it was gone, quickly replaced with a resumed cold demeanour.

Here is my character I will do an intro post later.


Name- Tarko Preash
Species- MACABREIAN
Career- DEMOMAN
Equipment- Shock Cannon, Demo-Pack, Flack Vest, Plasma Pistol, Combat Knife
Backstory/Bio- Tarko grew up in the slums of Nox, making his living by working for criminal organization and he helped traffic stolen machine parts, soon a clan war broke out on Nox and he was forced to fight in a demolition squad for his clan. Sadly his clan was on the losing side and was and his clan was banished from Nox. With nowhere to go, his clan soon turned to crime and attacks on the trade routes to survive. Soon anarchist groups started to support their attacks and now he was fighting for a radical group called the Frozen Star, they wanted to cripple the structure of totalitarian planets, brake their control over planets and end the bureaucratic bs that slows down the galaxy. They were only a small group and their missions had very little impact but they still fought and crushed many forces. While Tarko was with the Frozen Star he found himself spending time with a female of his species, Meisha. He grow close to her and wished to spend his life with her. This would have gone as planned if the Coalition decided to wipe out the Frozen Star. Hundreds were captured and executed but Tarko was offered the chance to be free and save Meisha if were helped the Coalition.
Motivation- Free Meisha and get back to living on Nox.
Best Quality- He is willing do try anything to solve a problem and try as many ideas as possible. He also finds great value in the lives of common people and is selfless most of the time.
Worst Quality- He was a hatred for politic, nationalism and anything that wastes time. He find no value in the lives of people who mindlessly devote themselves to a cause.