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lord commissar klimino wrote:

Tyranic Marta wrote:Idk but its a hell of a strike team

we should probably find out. you,me,kar,shroud,mord,fitzz,perk,darko?, deve?,nicho.

What about me .........

Tyranic Marta wrote:so about 8-10

like i said,

hell of a strike team

we need to post all sheets in OP. also that means this has a better chance of survival. im hopefully starting up my RP soon. when i do it will be the 3rd thing im in,so ill be filled.

TheWildHost wrote:

lord commissar klimino wrote:

Tyranic Marta wrote:Idk but its a hell of a strike team

we should probably find out. you,me,kar,shroud,mord,fitzz,perk,darko?, deve?,nicho.

What about me .........

oops sorry. so 9-11!

yes you too wild

we need to organize ourselfs like military
make sure we all work together, support and trust each other implicitly

and we need to all have set roles in the team that allow us to do our jobs quickly and efficiently

Sorry I haven't been posting, what have you guys come up with?

As chief artist, I am dissapoint that you didn't list me.

Also, a strike team could be upwards of 50 people. We're not a squad or or a fire-team.

Berserksteve wrote:Sorry I haven't been posting, what have you guys come up with?

oops,forgot you. so 10-12!

and Kasrkai so 11 -13 this is getting bigger

and Kasrkai yeah sure, but Strike TEAM sounds cooler than Strike SQUAD

Tyranic Marta wrote:and Kasrkai so 11 -13 this is getting bigger

and Kasrkai yeah sure, but Strike TEAM sounds cooler than Strike SQUAD

wait...kar was short for him,so its still only 10-12...right? confusion!

Mordo may end up dividing the teams to make things more manageable.

I need a name for the fleet and regiment.

Also, I vote Tactical Strike Force is what we are.

@ Kasrkai
Ill get some names sorted which you guys can have a look at

and yes sound good

@LCK
Sure my bad, 10-12 it is

I think a simple number for the fleet, 10th fleet for instance and then a number for the Regiment such as 312th regiment followed by our colloquial name for it such as... The Dead devils

I'm gonna go simple and call it "The 312th East Guard" and the "10th East Protectorate Fleet". I imagine the remnants of the eastern armies being pushed back and getting a new boost of troops (US) now that Deneb is threatened.

whteva

Well, it's up to mordo either way.

mhm

Weird

It was a strange thing, the corpse. It's blackened skin was drawn tight against it's bones, like a mummy of old Terran Egypt. It's eyes were glassy and hollow. open and unfocused, staring deep into the light fixture that hung above its steel slab. Like all members of its former race, it was tall, around seven feet or so, with long gangly limbs that nearly touched the floor. Its skull was conical, with a thin slash of a mouth present at the end of its long face. Two reptilian slits were cut above the mouth, adding to the inhumanity of the creature. It wore no clothing or equipment of any kind, and no identifying marks could be found at all on the body. It was, at one time or another, a Macabreian, the bogeymen of the galaxy, eager to slit a few throats for a handful of credits. The crew had been surprised to find the frozen corpse floating nearby their vessel, even more so when they discovered no marks of any kind upon it. Tenisk Vann, the spider-like Chelicera pilot had pointed out the floating object nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding void. The ship's computer stated that it was composed of a carbon base supplemented by various other molecules. In short, it was organic. Intrigued, he had ordered the object brought aboard. Perhaps they could sell whatever it was. Upon finding it was a frozen, lifeless corpse, the Exolian simply named 'Techie' had stated in its flat monotone that the Macabreian was deceased. Like the rest of its liquid race, Techie was contained within a cybernetic humanoid shell for easier movement and protection from foreign pathogens. They were also known for stating the obvious. No one payed the comment any mind, regarding the corpse with detached interest. Mueller was the first to ask the question that already squatted obscenely in the back of each of their heads, well, perhaps not Techie's,

"What are we going to do with it?"

He spoke in a blunt tone making Tan Nu uncomfortable. The Hulhuxi turned his reflective mirrormask towards the boson, lifting a cloth-wrapped hand to gesticulate his statement of disapproval. "This one feels that the honorable boson's statement regarding the honored remains are disrespectful to the deceased. This one humbly suggests that the remains be returned to Nox for proper burial by the unfortunate's own people." Mueller snorted, an ugly sound that sounded not unlike a wheezing pig.

"You don't seem to understand that he's a Macabreian, someone probably killed him for doing whatever they do. Y'know, hit jobs, drug deals, smugglin'. He ain't no 'honored dead' in my book. I saw we oughta' shoot it back into space, not bother with it." His voice slurred and coarse as it had always been, a result of years of a hookah addiction that had ruined his voice.

"Well, we need to get rid of it, that's pretty clear. We can't keep it." Chimed in Tycho, the copilot and scanner, adjusting his baseball cap as he said so. He had worked on the mining vessel Nancy Belle for two years, traveling far from his birthworld of Earth to the Capital Gate and beyond, running shipments of ore for the Kommar Corporation alongside Tenisk Vann, the perfectionist Chelicera. For the most part, it was rewarding work, he saw the galaxy and was paid to do so. It was what he had always wanted to do his entire life, roam the stars. So why did he feel so goddamned unfulfilled? He should have been happy, he wasn't. He felt empty looking out into space, experiencing intense vertigo at times, as if the void might swallow him whole. Tycho often awoke in the dead of night, covered in the cold sweat of fear, trembling with primal terror. He never could remember what he had dreamt of, but he always could feel something in the cabin with him in the dark. He had never dared to open the lumes, to shed light upon the dark mystery that haunted his steps. It hated him, though he knew not why, yet he could not get it out of his head that the shadow regarded him with loathing not unlike a well of inky black water that had no bottom. Last night had been one of those nights, and was more than a little apprehensive about having a mummified corpse rest in the cargo hold. Breaking him out of his thoughts was the clicking voice of Tenisk Vann, who broke the slight silence with his declaration;

"We'll leave it here tonight, we can make our final decision tomorrow." The black man-spider adjusted his beige jacket with all the pockets, and then sauntered out on his four legs, clicking slightly as he left the room. As he parted the scene, he called back; "Techie, run an inventory of our supplies, I want a list made out before we deliver. Right, see you all in the morning." The Chelicera was used to being obeyed, and didn't bother to check if Techie had acknowledged the order. The crew exchanged glances with one another before retiring to their chambers, Mueller rudely shoving past Tan Nu to reach the circular doorway that marked the lift. The Hulhuxi paused briefly before elbowing him out of the way saying as he did so;

"This one regrettably does not have time for your solid waste excretions. This one advises the honorable boson to cease abusing it verbally and physically. The consequences that the honorable boson will face if it does not desist in its behavior will, regrettably, be grave." Mueller turned around to face the Hulhuxi, his flabby unshaven face contorting into a frown, his piggish eyes narrowing to slits as he regarded the alien.

"That a threat, gak head?"

"This one made no threat, it was simply informing the honorable boson of the effects of its actions. This one promised, not threatened."

"Alright, noface, let's settle this gak right now. I don't like you, and you don't like me. S'matter, feth face, cat got yer haaaaauuuukkkk!" Mueller's words were cut short by Tan Nu's fist rocketing into his windpipe, his knee smashing into the boson's pelvis with the resounding crack of broken bones. He slumped to the floor, clearly shocked that the Hulhuxi had attacked him.

"This one had previously warned the honorable boson of what would occur, but the warning was not heeded. This one wonders if the honorable boson suffers from a malady resulting in mental impairment. This one advises the honorable boson to keep away from this one."

Tycho watched the exchange with fascination, and not a small amount of joy. It was about time someone put Mueller in his place, Tycho just hadn't thought it would be the peaceful and introspective Tan Nu to be the one to do it. The slender, tall Hulhuxi stepped over the groaning boson, his colorful robes twirling as he entered the lift alongside Tycho, who paid the prone man no notice, attempting to conceal his smile. Tan Nu stared straight ahead as the lift door closed, a habit that was made all the more unnerving by the reflective mirrormask that he wore. Tycho adjusted the brim of his hat, already worn threadbare by his constant adjustments. He rode the lift in silence, doing his best to avoid looking directly at Tan Nu. The lift chimed, and the tall Hulhuxi stepped out, walking through the brightly lit corridor until he reached his courters, and the door whooshed open for him. Tycho followed suit, walking under the lume panels in the ceiling until he reached his room, which chimed a flat greeting at his arrival. He pulled his cap off and placed it reverently on the steel nightstand near his bed, the only object to grace its surface. Laying down on the bed, he closed the lumes, and fell into a night of restless dreams.

The next morning, Tycho awoke to the sound of alarms, the staccato thumpings of a mad drummer that beat their way into his skull with terrible ferocity. He flung himself out of the perfectly made bed, his feet hitting the floor with a single loud thump, the icy chill of the steel floor coursing through his body. Clicking the automatic door open, he stuck his head out into the hallway among the shriek of the klaxons and the bloody light of the panic lumes. Tycho saw Tan Nu do the same, his mask catching his own expression of confusion for an instant before the Hulhuxi turned his head elsewhere, searching for the source of the disturbance. Tycho followed suit, running at a sprint towards the bridge. When he arrived, he found Tenisk Vann searching the holomap of the ship's interior frantically. "What's the matter? Did Mueller flip the wrong switch again?" The Chelicera shook his arachnoid head, his pincers clacking together in worry.

"Techie's gone."

"What? What do you mean gone? He's gotta be around here somewhere."

"No, he fell off the scanner sometime last night while we were sleeping. He's just gone."

"He just be gone, maybe the scanner's bad."

"I sent Mueller to check on him, now he's gone. Something's on the ship."

"Bullgak, nothing could get inside, we've been in Black Space for four months. Nothing coulda snuck onboard while we were...." Tycho grew very pale, and began to adjust his cap. The corpse, could it be? No. No. Please don't let it be the corpse, let it be something normal. Oh god, oh god, the corpse. Tycho opened his mouth very slowly, moving his tongue about to dispel the sudden dryness. "Tenisk.... the corpse, the dead Macabreian.... it's onboard with us."

It was the Chelicera's turn to look incredulous. "That's ridiculous, corpses don't come back to life and make your crew disappear, no, it must be the equipment. That's it, the equipment's bad. Tycho, take a gun and see what happened. Techie was in the cargo hold last time he transmitted."

Tycho lifted the rifle dumbly, thinking not of what might await him below deck. He had accepted too easily, how stupid of him! Now he was going to die because of it. He entered the lift, his finger shaking as he tapped the 'Down' button. The metal doors closed slowly, as if mocking him with his last glimpse of his former life before shutting with awful finality. He hugged the rifle closer to himself, taking small comfort in the weapon. The final descent seemed to take forever, protracted by his mute terror. The silence was shattered when the lift dinged to announce that he had reached his destination. It was a most awful sound to Tycho, for he feared it would bring the living shadow down upon him like an awful raptor intent on his flesh. Adjusting his cap, he stepped into the utter blackness of the cargo hold. Pressing against the wall, he felt his way to the metal slab the corpse had first been laid upon, daring not to call out for his companions. He saw a pale blue light at the end of the darkness. He knew the prone, shattered form to be Techie. The Exolian had been brutally torn apart, his metal suit torn nearly in half, the receptacle that held his liquid form leaking onto the steel floor. Tycho rushed over, looking directly into the pale blue of Techie's mechanical eyes, their feeble light almost spent. It spoke in a flat monotone, stating clearly it's predicament.

"Subject retrieved from vacuum was not deceased. Subject's vital signs were nonexistent, yet subject struck myself and consumed Boson Mueller as would a biological, living creature. Paradox detected. Calculations have failed to provide satisfactory conclusion. Containment suit breached, breach will result in my death in a short period of time. Outcome unavoidable, essence contaminated by outside pathogens. I only regret that I could not complete the docking manifest in the time alloted. Please forgive me."

Techie's eyes grew dull, and it's form slumped dead to the ground. Tycho clasped the gun tightly to his chest, sweeping it around the blackness. He remembered now; his dreams, this was one of them. He was in the darkness ,hunted by a creature that shouldn't exist. And he was utterly alone. He reached for his cap, feeling the brim to ensure he was still real. It was there. In the room with him. He could hear it, searching the hold for him. He heard the shadow thing gibber and coo as it crawled into the lift, push open the emergency door at the top of the lift. It clambered up the shaft, the echos of the ascent shaking Tycho to his very core. Then he heard no more. He sat there for what seemed like hours before gathering the courage to enter the lift once more and enter the main floor. He needed to get off the Nancy Belle, it was his only chance of survival. The controls to release the escape pods were located in the bridge. Alright, to the bridge then. As the lift doors opened, the awful chime sounded again, and he winced, fearing that the creature might hear and be drawn to him. Silence reigned. The alarms were quiet, and the corridors were lit only be pools of yellow auxiliary lumes, pools in an ocean of darkness. He advanced slowly and carefully, his rifle ahead of him in a protective gesture. Then he heard it, no, them. A tall ,robed figure stepped from the gloom., mirrormask reflecting the light as to blind Tycho. Tycho was filled with elation to see that Tan Nu was well, initially. This elation turned to mute horror as he noticed the black ropes of fluid hanging from the jagged hole in the Hulhuxi's mirrormask, a chewed threw orifice that revealed strait teeth bared in hunger. Tan Nu opened his mouth wide, the fluid leaking all over the front of his colorful robes. In that brief moment of hesitation, the creature that was once Tan Nu barreled forward, emitting an unholy shriek of hunger that clawed at Tycho's mind. The Hulhuxi pinned him to the floor, head leaning down to bite down on his exposed neck. Tycho's rifle spun away as he attempted to keep Tan Nu's snapping head away from him, the horrible creature splattering his face with the black bile. It screamed in anger at the prey who dared deny it its meat, a cry of primal frustration. As if called to the scene by the keening, a partially eaten Tenisk Vann scuttled over to investigate, it's fangs dripping the same fluid as Tan Nu's. It rushed at Tycho, it's four arms grabbing hold of him and began to tug, seeking to rip away a limb to feast upon. Tycho lost his grip on Tan Nu's head, and the ghoulish mouth descended and sank its teeth deep into his shoulder, ripping out chunks of flesh with horrific ease. The Chelicera tore one of Tycho's arms free at the shoulder, scampering off to devour its prize even as he shrieked and screamed as he was eaten alive. In desperation, Tycho began to batter the mirrormask with his remaining fist, hoping to knock the creature off of him. Breaking the glass, he felt his hand cut and lacerated by the shards even as he sunk his fingers into Tan Nu's eye sockets. The creature fell off of him, and Tycho crawled away with all his speed towards the bridge, weeping tears of agony and fear as he pumped blood eagerly onto the deck. There it was the bridge, just a few more feet... Tan Nu, he could hear it, crawling after him. Almost there, almost there... a black shape bore down upon him throwing him against the metal wall with tremendous force. The gaunt form of the Macabreian sank its fangs into Tycho's side, holding him down with its arms as it ate. Tycho crawled and crawled. The airlock. Closer, here, by his head. He reached out, battering the controls with his remaining hand until the door whooshed open. He kicked the thing in the face, clambering into the airlock, the demon thing falling in after him. Tan Nu and Tenisk Vann crashed into the airlock, seeking the meat on his bones. Tycho slammed the airlock shut at they entered, shrieking as the Macabreian gnawed on his entrails like ghoulish pasta. He punched the controls, sending the four tumbling into the void with a hungry scream. They froze almost instantaneously, their fluids crystalizing into strange shapes that floated through the vacuum. Tycho's corpse flew past the others, his gnawed and ruined hand grasping the brim of his hat.

Should I put that in our fair Galactic Guide?

Kasrkai wrote:Should I put that in our fair Galactic Guide?

Might as well add 'Star Weirds' to a section on spacer tales.

feckin creepy

Wonder if theyll ever meet my bullets?

On another note, that Hulhuxi is my idol. I can see my dialogue developing already.

"This one requests that the ones calling themselves Shapers should make the journey to their home, lest an incident of my weapon causing many injuries to occur among them come to pass, for this one has no time for their solid waste excretions."


ONE MOAR THING. Weirds added (Most recent Update) and Deneb system map started:

Mordo do you add the medic class?

wow. that was utterly terrifying. (and epic)wonder if were going to run into them?

doom-angler:



saber-pike:
[img]http://t1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQmhIB_Ytd_6WpnZWuBwZ34-Lu43JvTbdjSmeN6eM-3EOI4arEk
[/img]
chameleon shark

ineptus astartes wrote:doom-angler:



saber-pike:

chameleon shark

that 1st thing even real??/

You guys don't even need made up monsters

Berserksteve wrote:You guys don't even need made up monsters

.....thats real? its cute yet fething creepy as hell.

(@lord commisar klimono: no. the first thing is a CGI future shark from the show Primeval)


Vessel classifications:
freighter: a freighter is a small cargo vessel suited to go for six months without need of refuling or much crew.
Examples:
Hrovan Arms corp. ‘wanderlust’ class C700 light freighter
:armament: two twin linked plasma-cannon turrets, one missile pod holding 4 shrike warbird missiles and one remotely controlled coilgun.
Decks: 2
Deck one contains the bridge, sleeping quarters, sanitation rooms, and rear hold and docking bay/airlock.
Deck two contains the medicenter, biolab, lower hold, fore hold, ammunition stores, engine room, jump-space drive, cargo lift, escape pods, fore dock, torpedo tubes and quarantine area.
Jump-space speed: 4: slow: one light year per minute

yes that is real! it is either a lamprey or hagfish (aqua-biology is one of my interests)