Crux Fleet NPCs (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crux_npcs) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crux_fleet2014-02-21 06:51 pm
crux_npcs) wrote in crux_fleet2014-02-21 06:51 pm
Entry tags:
- !event,
- !log,
- !npc: arvel,
- back to the future: marty mcfly,
- battletech: cassiopia suthorn,
- biomega: kanoe zouichi,
- black jack 21: pinoko,
- borderlands: angel,
- borderlands: gaige the mechromancer,
- borderlands: krieg the psycho,
- borderlands: maya the siren,
- ffvii: cloud strife,
- makai ouji: kevin cecil,
- mega man x: zero,
- mm power rangers: jason lee scott,
- original: anzu menelik,
- original: del wellett,
- pandora hearts: oz vessalius,
- pandora hearts: xerxes break,
- slayers: lina inverse,
- star trek: odo,
- star wars: obi-wan kenobi,
- steven universe: garnet,
- transformers: deadlock,
- transformers: flashpoint (oc),
- tron legacy: tron
THE BLACK EYE OF SHAREF: PART ONE
Who: Everyone who signed up for it!
Where: The Eye of Sharef space trading hub
When: 21st of Februaro
The new arrivals may have gotten short notice, but the people aboard the Teuberg have been waiting over a month to arrive here. But the call goes out to the new arrivals all the same. The Eye of Sharef, a massive space station many miles in diameter, a glimmering collection of concentric circles connected by cables, bridges, and supply tunnels, is the 43rd Scutum-Crux Fleet's next stop.
It's explained in a rush. The Fleet can't keep any of their warships stationed there for very long, otherwise it would seem like an occupation. Galactic neutrality laws don't necessarily forbid it, but they've decided to err on the side of caution. Instead, they've opted to send a few supply shuttles and what can only be referred to as space buses to transport civilians and military personnel to the Eye's outer hub. The rest of the Fleet will scout ahead and then they'll return in roughly a week. Room and board has been paid for and, luckily, the Eye accepts credits as a form of payment. For those who haven't blown through the credits they were given in order to establish themselves, this is an excellent place for it.
Inside the station, the ceilings have plenty of room for gigantic beings and there are many floors, filled with booths, storefronts, stalls, and even carpets covered in trinkets, as far as the eye can see. In many languages, not just the choppy Common Galactic Trade tongue everyone has been sleep-taught, merchants peddle their wares. Sometimes in an extremely aggressive manner.
On other levels, the smell of cooked and uncooked foods fill the air. There's something to tickle every tongue, even the mechanical ones. In some places, though, it's probably best not to ask where they got their meat. Entertainment is in abundance, with alien arcades, movies (some even featuring the Fleet! Largely as villains are clueless bumblers, but there are some with a more positive leaning. There's even some originating from the Fleet.), music, and all sorts of other pleasures can be found just by turning the right corner.
You're here for the next week, at least. Largely unsupervised, though there are still some Fleet personnel there to protect civilians just in case. Not that they'll be needed, of course. The station's security is supposedly rather excellent. What now?
[So, here's the opening part of The Black Eye of Sharef event. If you haven't heard of it, I strongly suggest reading up on it. If you join, you cannot simply back out as your characters will not be on any Fleet vessels just yet, so be sure before you sign up. However, we'll not prevent anyone from backtagging or simply claiming new threads took place before they left.
I request that as many posts regarding this be kept to the marked event posts as possible. However, as long as the main community doesn't get flooded, we won't be preventing anyone from posting outside. Note that as long as they are separate from the Fleet from this great a distance, their Network posts can only reach each other. The Fleet itself is simply out of range.
For this first part, the mods will be largely hands off. Don't go crazy with the NPCs, but we're probably not going to be spending a lot of time writing NPC comments for Part One.]
Where: The Eye of Sharef space trading hub
When: 21st of Februaro
The new arrivals may have gotten short notice, but the people aboard the Teuberg have been waiting over a month to arrive here. But the call goes out to the new arrivals all the same. The Eye of Sharef, a massive space station many miles in diameter, a glimmering collection of concentric circles connected by cables, bridges, and supply tunnels, is the 43rd Scutum-Crux Fleet's next stop.
It's explained in a rush. The Fleet can't keep any of their warships stationed there for very long, otherwise it would seem like an occupation. Galactic neutrality laws don't necessarily forbid it, but they've decided to err on the side of caution. Instead, they've opted to send a few supply shuttles and what can only be referred to as space buses to transport civilians and military personnel to the Eye's outer hub. The rest of the Fleet will scout ahead and then they'll return in roughly a week. Room and board has been paid for and, luckily, the Eye accepts credits as a form of payment. For those who haven't blown through the credits they were given in order to establish themselves, this is an excellent place for it.
Inside the station, the ceilings have plenty of room for gigantic beings and there are many floors, filled with booths, storefronts, stalls, and even carpets covered in trinkets, as far as the eye can see. In many languages, not just the choppy Common Galactic Trade tongue everyone has been sleep-taught, merchants peddle their wares. Sometimes in an extremely aggressive manner.
On other levels, the smell of cooked and uncooked foods fill the air. There's something to tickle every tongue, even the mechanical ones. In some places, though, it's probably best not to ask where they got their meat. Entertainment is in abundance, with alien arcades, movies (some even featuring the Fleet! Largely as villains are clueless bumblers, but there are some with a more positive leaning. There's even some originating from the Fleet.), music, and all sorts of other pleasures can be found just by turning the right corner.
You're here for the next week, at least. Largely unsupervised, though there are still some Fleet personnel there to protect civilians just in case. Not that they'll be needed, of course. The station's security is supposedly rather excellent. What now?
[So, here's the opening part of The Black Eye of Sharef event. If you haven't heard of it, I strongly suggest reading up on it. If you join, you cannot simply back out as your characters will not be on any Fleet vessels just yet, so be sure before you sign up. However, we'll not prevent anyone from backtagging or simply claiming new threads took place before they left.
I request that as many posts regarding this be kept to the marked event posts as possible. However, as long as the main community doesn't get flooded, we won't be preventing anyone from posting outside. Note that as long as they are separate from the Fleet from this great a distance, their Network posts can only reach each other. The Fleet itself is simply out of range.
For this first part, the mods will be largely hands off. Don't go crazy with the NPCs, but we're probably not going to be spending a lot of time writing NPC comments for Part One.]
no subject
Break has outfitted himself in the latest Teuberg style: a layered Regency-inspired suit, with a dove-gray, double-breasted tailcoat, ruffled white shirt, black trousers, and a deep plum cravat. There's something essential he's missing, however, which he has yet to find on the great city-ship. But here in this grand bazaar he hopes he'll have more luck.
He's looking for a hat.
Now he is standing in the middle of a vast stall, surrounded by bowler hats, horned helmets, toques, shpitzels, and every color of fez. Piled high are furred hats with ear flaps, fedoras, berets, and deerstalker hats. There are hats with openings in the back for braids; or in the front for antennae; or paired hats for two-headed races (or conjoined twins).
Despite the dazzling selection, he doesn’t seem to be finding what he wants, serially trying on and tossing aside various toppers. The milliner can’t seem to help either; sadly there's no word in Common Galactic Trade Tongue for "top hat."
2. Selling
The feather-trimmed scarf knotted casually about his neck is simply divine (anybody supernaturally sensitive will sense this for sure). He’ll sell you one, if you like, but do be quiet about it. The (former) owner of the feathers gets seriously cheesed off about this sort of commerce.
3. Arcade
The rabbit freezes, realizing it's in the crosshairs.
Break had grappled with his decision, but in the end he'd decided that it was short-sighted to ignore certain advances in weapons technology — particularly now that he is rather less short-sighted than before. The hiccup in his plan, however, had been that weapons proved difficult to acquire on the Teuberg, so how could he possibly practice?
The endlessly varied selection in the Eye of Sharef arcade floor solved that difficulty, and excited another passion of his as well. First-person shooter, with full virtual reality sensurround, Carnage Confection is Grand Theft Auto meets Candyland.
Taking careful aim, Break squeezes the trigger of his musket. The rabbit screams, as a hail of cinnamon red hot buckshot rips through its chocolate skull, spraying dark, sticky liquid. Break flinches as he is (virtually) spattered, but then he… licks his lips. It’s sweet. It’s caramel. He's getting better at this. Level up.
There are sugar peep chicks on the other side of that gingerbread door, clustered around a stripper pole. He's going in. Xerxes Break doesn't do guns, except now he does. Join in player two?
3, 2ish
The rabbit's scream is followed by another scream just behind the mighty Xerxes Break's back. Why would you shoot the cute rabbit! The angel doesn't understannnnnnd.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
3
A NEW PLAYER HAS JOINED THE GAME flashes on screen.
And the door opens. Cassie instinctively slices her muzzle across half the room, presuming her partner will get the other half. Before she can blink, she squeezes off a gusher grenade at a marzipan santa that had, until that moment, been entertaining one of those peeps on his lap.
"You've been very naughty!!" He roars, standing up to his full height, which is considerable. Cassie swears in Japanese as she backpedals, squeezing off round after round into his doughy mass as her quickly picks up speed after them, looking ready to crash the door and crush them under it...
(no subject)
sorry it kindof got turned into System Shock
it's all good (1/2)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1
In any case, he pops out from behind Break, sporting a suggestion of his own.
"What do you think?"
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/3
2/3
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
1 and 2
Before he's able to speak, however, the scarf catches his eye. It's a very lovely scarf and he's never seen a feather trim quite like that. He stops short of Break and contemplates him, not entirely sure how to start the conversation. He's rather out of practise starting conversations that are not in a particular sort of bar, heading towards a very particular sort of outcome.
How do you approach a man outside of a molly bar, for the purpose of merely friendly conversation? Anzu sighs to himself and then approaches Break, far too far into his personal space, and taps him on the shoulder.
"Darling, that one doesn't suit you at all. And it clashes with your lovely scarf!"
Considering that Anzu is currently wearing a neon pink feather boa and a floor-length black skirt with glowing neon pink embroidery, it's safe to say that his idea of "clashing" is not other people's.
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
So instead, it's time to sample a lot of alien food. Emphasis on 'a lot'. Anyone who's been watching her for some time will notice she's been going from stall to stall, eating one thing on the way and ordering something else at the next, and showing no signs of slowing down - save for when something interests her and the price is too much, so she proceeds to argue it down - and generally succeeds, as for a pint-sized lady, she's very persuasive.
no subject
no subject
Security was totally incompetent. And there was nothing he could do about it. He was tempted to stay in order to put an end to this, but first he had an official status on the whip, as opposed to here, and second an more importantly, he wouldn't have a way to go home. Odo had his people to attend to.
In the meantime, he would have to make do with what he had. Or didn't, in this case. He would only have to hope Quark had followed him instead of scheming back on the ship. Of course, Quark would try to do a little business on the station, but here Odo would be able to watch him.
no subject
Right. Flashpoint could try to blow herself up jerryrigging some fabricator, but Deadlock 1) didn't have time for that slag and 2) didn't trust whatever she'd cook up anyway and 3) really fraggin' needed a drink. So he's in the first bar he comes to, doing his best 'sitting at a barstool glowering at everyone with a large glass of engex in front of him' thing, trying to pretend he doesn't know anyone. Don't blow it for him.
B. Windowshopping
"Frag. Look at all this slag." He's normally a quiet mech, preferring to let his energon blaster do the talking, but this is a bit much, as he looks down the almost never ending corridor of shops, offering stuff that half of it he didn't even know what it was for.
It was probably for pervy stuff, he figures.
He probably looks a little dazzled and would really hate to have someone point that out.
b
"You look like you're having fun!"
YES GOOD
HAHA I COULDN'T RESIST
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
B!
woop!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
A
:D
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
A++
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
wow, what is grammer?
hell if I know
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Since none of his cooking gear had followed him over to the Teuberg, Zouichi had to start over from scratch if he wanted to make anything. Not that he was planning on staying for very long, but there were some essentials that one simply couldn't do without.
Like aprons!
He frowned at two offerings placed side by side on a shop's wall, putting a hand to his chin as he scrutinized the first option, then the second.
This was the face of a man who was thinking about it. Really, seriously thinking about it. "I wonder if they have the second one, but with a different bird..."
B: Haunted spaceship
After requesting that his purchases be held for him until they returned to the ship, Zouichi found himself wandering aimlessly through the entertainment stalls until someone thrust a pair of strange-looking goggles at him, gesticulating wildly and speaking in an alien language.
He tried to refuse, but the merchant clearly wasn't going to give up anytime soon, so he tried them on just to humor the man. Immediately, he found himself in an abandoned storage room, where equipment was scattered everywhere. Spots of blood led out the one doorway to the room -- clearly someone had been injured.
"I see... a virtual reality game." Well, it was definitely pretty realistic.
a
Could it be that you're a bird enthusiast...?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
A is for Aprons!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
b
Re: b
the eternally late tag i'm so sorry
no worries
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
no subject
He orders a drink, which to his surprise turns out to be a glowing purple cocktail in a clear glass. Making his way to what resembles a dart board, Obi-Wan pays the merchant who seems to advertise by heckling. The darts are long and sharp, and he wonders if the merchant's taunts are a smart idea. Either way, it seems to have worked as he sets his lantern of a drink on a nearby table and takes aim, consciously without the aid of the Force.
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Zero was walking around the Eye of Sharef once he and the other passengers arrived. He wasn't all that interested in the wares the merchants were selling at the moment. In yet another new place with many different alien races. Of course he would first decide to just walk around and casually some people watching.
He saw a myriad of different aliens. Many of them looked very humanoid, while others had...well, more alien appearances. He recognized a few of the species he had read about before aboard the Teuberg. A large amount of the merchants he saw were Chatleen in origin, many of them trying to pressure him into buying their wares as he strode by. Unsurprisingly, he saw a great number of the Wadjiit as well. The few he got close to matched Corporal Plansacks' description of them. Aside from them, he saw varying numbers of other races interspersed amongst the tightly-packed crowds he made his way through.
He mainly kept to himself as he walked, deciding to not draw attention to himself in the Sharef. Though, with him looking at the different races around him, he wasn't entirely focused on who or what would be coming toward him.
2. Browsing
Zero normally wasn't one for shopping. There wasn't much that usually interested him that could simply be bought. But he was here now, so the least he could do was browse. Afterall, he might find something that would catch his eye.
He walked around the various stalls to see what they had available. His main interest were the multitude of different weapons that he found in one particular area. Much of the equipment he saw was either meant for long-range combat, were the size for a giant mech to wield, or both. He did manage to find a few stalls that dealt in more human-sized close-quarters and melee weaponry.
He looked at the different kinds of wares available, ranging between solid and energy-based weapons, and from small, easy-to-conceal items such as daggers, to blatant, over-sized objects like thick-bladed broadswords and large, studded balls of metal connected to long chains. Such weapons would normally require both hands to just lift. Normally.
Zero spent a good deal of time just browsing. He was occupied enough in inspecting each weapon he saw that he became unaware of his surroundings. Little would snap him out of his trance other than someone directly speaking to him or otherwise attempting to get his attention.
2.
Jason had spotted Zero once before, during the briefing, but his head had been too full to really introduce himself or even talk to anyone. Running into the guy while shopping for practice weapons had been something of a lucky accident. And, really, he was kind of unmistakable.
He picked up a staff, studded with unrecognizable metals, and gave it an experimental spin before setting it back in. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you get your gun and knife shows and all, but we don't really get a lot in the way of... Well, this stuff."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
Marty has gotten over his panicking enough to actually be interested in the stuff around here again. He doesn't look like he's going to buy anything, just looking with interest at all the stuff, trying to avoid anyone who's trying to strike a deal with him in a language he can't understand.He doesn't look like he's going to buy anything, just looking with interest at all the stuff, trying to avoid anyone who's trying to strike a deal with him in a language he can't understand. But he seems to be enjoying himself decently at least.
2 Arcade
As soon as Marty caught wind of there being an arcade, he rushes over to find it as soon as he can. Being trapped in space, Marty thought that he wouldn't be able to play video games anytime soon, so this was a complete breath of fresh air. Right now he appears to be engrossed in a light gun game, but he'll probably be willing to talk if someone bugs him.
no subject
She got a lot of bad vibes from this station during their arrival. Call it an intuition, but she got the feeling she should stay there with the rest of the crew members. She dealt with this kind of stuff, protecting people. And from the crew she's seen so far, they could use a lot of protecting. She stood in the outer hub, arms folded and leaning in one of the parts of the hub where it'd be easy to get an eye on everyone. Besides...it felt familiar. Like Beach City.
B Arcade
She had no idea how these things worked. Steven mentioned them once or twice and she still couldn't make heads or tails of this...stuff. Did humans really just sit down to fiddle with knobs and buttons in front of a screen? Where could she start? She didn't want to get involved in something so frivolous anyway. Maybe it's best if she just...leans against the wall, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. Much better than fun. Who cared about weird screen button-stick games, anyway? Not her, she had the lives of people to consider before video games.
no subject
Were the cabinets really how the Users observed games in their world? It seemed more than bit disappointingly underwhelming. He didn't seem to be the only one that impressed, either, and went to greet the person leaning against the wall. He half-recognized her from the briefing as a fellow import.
"Greetings."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
B
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
The station is immense-- To a ridiculous degree, and as he leaves behind what he's rapidly coming to think of as the relative comfort of the entrance at which his shuttle docked (everyone else on it already long since dispersed into obscurity, out here), just trying to take it all in is enough to give rise to that dizzy, sick feeling again. But-- Deep breaths. Okay. He can do this.
He can... Stagger dizzily through the crowd until he's completely lost. Which definitely wasn't the plan, but it's where he ends up, anyway: turned around and already getting that not just sinking, but dropping-out-through-the-soles-of-his-boots feeling in the pit of his stomach, again. Only there's nowhere out here to run to that's any less hustle and bustle than the next place; if there's such a thing as peak hours in the middle of the black void of space, these must be them. So he just keeps moving forward, trying to find some break in the marketplace (occasionally bumping into strangers on the way, attempting to apologize). This place can't go on forever, can it? (With his luck, it probably does.) ]
b) [ Clothes shopping isn't something Cloud thinks about often; for the past two years of his previous life (and some change), the military took care of most of it for him. And before that, he was just a kid living at home - where his mother made most of what he wore, with few exceptions. But now there's no one to put the chore off on - and he really needs something other than his uniform to wear. (For a lot of reasons other than just the blood stain on the jacket, now.)
So he's found his way (now with somewhat better bearings - less falling all over the place bearings, at least) to a big, cluttered shop (optimal only in that it's less crowded than the others in sight) that seems to cater to at least... vaguely people-shaped people. The racks upon racks of outfits and accessories are packed so thoroughly with the same that they appear to be built out of clothes, themselves - and they tower overhead to an intimidating degree, as well, though there are plenty of handy ladders to scale for items higher up.
But while climbing all the way to the top and hiding in that four-armed overcoat is a fairly tempting prospect, just to get a moment of peace out of this place, he's keeping his feet firmly on the floor, for the moment. And looking through much less practical potential additions to his wardrobe than shirts and pants. To think he actually misses his heavy, stuffy, occasionally unbearable mask is totally absurd - but the rack of curiously oversized hats still draws him in, anyway. At least a few have brims wide and low enough to hide his face the way his helmet used to, though even he can recognize most of them for the fashion disasters they are. (Or would be, on his world.)
...Still. Nobody's really looking his way (a quick glance around confirms), and that big, furry one with the earflaps looks kind of compellingly comfortable. So he snags it off the hook and tugs it down firmly on his head - three or four sizes too big, the edge falls almost to the tip of his nose, and he has to push it back up to get a look at himself in the oblong mirror set back into the overcrowded rack. It's funny, but he doesn't laugh at his reflection. Instead, Cloud takes a deep breath, puffing out his chest a little like he's - posing? And talking to himself. ]
(If you were here, you'd probably say something like...) ...What d'you think? I look good, right?
c) [ obligatory Other Third Scenario option. Throughout the first leg of the event, Cloud can also be found: getting way too into arcade games (especially racing games ok), searching desperately for food that resembles actual food, and more than likely getting talked into buying useless junk on a minimum of three to four separate occasions. He is not good with money or strange aliens shouting things at him. ]
b
At Cloud's words she looks up -- and abruptly lets out a fairly loud laugh. Oops.
Chagrined, she quickly turns her attention back to the jackets on the rack in front of her.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
a
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
C
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
no subject
However, the market is, as one would expect, full of distractions. And that is why one might spot him a few minutes later by an old fashioned weaponry stall: an otherwise urbane and innocent-looking butler examining an incredibly mean spear as if he knows what he is doing.
That is, until the merchant presses a small red button on the spear's side, causing it to start playing something some Earthlings would recognize as doom metal, with an impressive amount of electric guitars and horns.
'I'd rather have the one without the battle song feature, please.'
(ooc: as usual, those with a sense for these things are free to feel Kevin's angelicness.)
no subject
"Come on, no way they wouldn't take you serious carryin' that around, ne?"
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
sorry for the late tag!
all tags are beautiful!
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
no subject
She stops at a pub and acquires a jug of something that mostly resembles hard cider, then at a food stall selling meat pies -- with a filling that is almost definitely made of actual meat rather than reconstituted protein substitutes. Say what you want about this universe, but she could definitely get used to the food.
Thus fortified, her wanderings take her to a hall full of traders selling all kinds and shapes of musical instruments -- horns, drums, stringed whatsits and electronic something-or-others operated by a variety of means. The place is cacophonous, more so because there are buskers scattered about in amongst the customers trying out the wares. Del can't decide whether to laugh or grimace at the noise, and ends up doing both.
It's right about then that she spots someone she thinks she recognizes from the Fleet shuttle that brought them over; the person in question is currently being accosted by a merchant holding an unidentifiable conglomeration of pipes, keyboards, and circuitry. It's unclear, as Del draws closer with a curious expression, whether the merchant is upset that the thing's been broken, or is trying fervently to get the Fleet visitor to purchase it.
no subject
"No, thanks," he said. "I've already got one."
But the man was clearly not so easily appeased, pulling at Zouichi's sleeve as he turned to walk away.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
no subject
Pinoko had been all over the Teuberg to shop. Several times. She'd already bought food, and a few new clothes. She'd also acquired books to study from. She had yet to find a rice cooker for her little apartment though. Why did the future have to be so hard? Well, okay, she had a rice cooker. It just had a million confusing future functions. Didn't they just make rice cookers that just... cooked rice anymore? So she was looking for one of those.
She was also half-looking for a present for Dr. Kolding. Sure, he was kind of a jerk, but he was giving Pinoko a chance to be a nurse. So maybe she was looking for something for him. Maybe. And it wasn't like she didn't have her choice of places. The markets were massive. They were easy to get lost in, and with as small as she was, she kept bumping into people. Or getting shoved into people. Stupid pushy merchants.
B. Arcade
Pinoko couldn't believe it. A real true arcade. From the future. That had everything you could imagine. Beat-em-up games, VR games, Space DDR, racing games, light gun games, everything. Even some kinds of games that Pinoko had never even imagined.
She looked around for a few moments, before seeing a distressingly cute game which looked like some unholy cross between a magical girl game and Final Fight. She needed to get some currency to play that. Now. The only thing that would make it better is a partner.
no subject
"Greetings, Pinoko."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
THE VAULT HUNTERS
aka Shopping.
Maya and co are wandering the bazaar streets of the Eye, particularly looking to find some new gear that's more compatible with the end of the universe they were in. Luckily for them, Digistruct technology at least made the issue of ammunition a non-factor. But there was still so much to see and buy, and it wasn't as if they were spending their initial dollars on anything else, right? Right?
That didn't stop Maya from putting the team on a strict budget. After all, until they had jobs rolling in, they needed to pace their spending. Food, clothing, other provisions first. Guns that shoot rockets second. It was a hard choice to make, but it had to be done.
Maya, herself, was perusing the clothing... It wasn't as if she had no eye for fashion but... She had no eye for fashion. She was hopelessly lost.
[ b: and shoot ]
aka Arcade.
Now the Vault Hunters found themselves in their element. Well, a reasonable simulation of their element. VR shooting games in holo-consoles? Hell yeah. It was just like Digistruct Peak! Except with no danger of actually dying! A shame they couldn't incorporate their actual guns into the game... Still, not a single of the more native players seemed to stand a chance against the seasoned bandit slayers. Especially when they were on the same team, something they assured for maximum exploitation.
"So do we get prizes or something? This is getting a little too easy..."
[b]
(she gets her kicks above the waistline, sunshine).This gets the blood up in her teammates, who stand ready to rush, like PUGs everywhere.
Cassie isn't with them when they do though. If she's going to watch her teammates get gunned down, she'll turn adversity into strength and base her strategy off it. She runs for a ledge and the sniper rifle and waits until she hears the first death.ogg. Then she'll be trying to pick off whoever gloats the most. If successful, she'll repeat the procedure with each PUG killed...
Re: [b]
Re: [b]
Re: [b]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
loot
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Open!
[He could have sworn Kay was with him. But when he turned around, the girl was nowhere to be found. He was alone, and had no idea where to go next. No idea where he was. There were crowds everywhere, noise, and more people, more strange beings, than he'd ever seen before. Even in the other ship.]
[He'd found, as a result, the first quiet, dim room he could fit into. Trying to disappear into the shadows. It seemed to be some kind of music hall. Somewhere smoky. Where huamsn and other living things gathered to listen. There weren't many people inside, and he could fit in the back. And, so, just like when he'd arrived on the other ship, he sat huddled, quiet. Listening to the strange music.]
[And being totally obvious.]
B) WANDERING THE MARKET
[Once he got over his initial fear, he ventured back out into the market area. Just wandering. He didn't know what anything was, or if he was even allowed to buy it.]
[... or if he could buy anything.]
[To say he was lost was sort of an understatement. In more ways than one, this time.]
B!
Really, this place had an incredibly large population of betas. He wasn't sure what that said about him.]
Greetings!
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
A
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Open!
[Wow, this was... different. And nostalgic. He didn't have any particular interest in buying anything, but... wow. This took him back.]
[He looked fairly amused, as he strolled around, taking in the sights. Certainly different than the brooding, cranky soldier he'd been when he first showed up on the ship. He even nodded to a few of the merchants, and carefully stepped over one or two of the pushier ones. He's in a good mood, to say the least.]
B) SOME KIND OF BAR
[Okay, so he'd had a fairly decent time wandering the markets. But now he was wondering if he could get a decent drink around here.]
[He'd found a bar big enough to cater to someone his size, and had eased carefully into a seat. Now the trouble was... finding a drink. Did they even serve a decent energon around here?]
[He can be found squinting skeptically at the menu, his optics narrowed, and a thoughtful frown on his face.]
A)
Well.
"Face is too detailed for a mindless drone, body moves too perfectly for something piloted, and you're not an AI since they could just plug in and learn everything..." She tapped her chin, examining him. "I'm going to take a guess and say that you're a mechanical life form? Oh, how neat! You're so very rare in this part of the galaxy, after all."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
A
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
He's only gotten started on the bottle of booze he's ordered. It's standing unstoppered at the centre of the table, still almost full. He doesn't look like he'd be averse to sharing it.
In fact, there's an empty shot glass standing right next to it and Anzu doesn't look like he's going to bite, if someone cares to join him.
no subject
In the name of experiencing as much of this place as possible, he's taken to wandering through the station, seeking out whatever interesting corners of Sharef he could find. This particular bar he'd only paused to glance into, without planning on sampling the wares (maybe later) when he catches sight of someone who looks familiar. The sight is enough to get him stepping fully inside. "Anzu?"
(no subject)
The sleaziest bars imaginable
She's picking up what odd jobs she can, smuggling around some of the more dubious substances for sale around here. Mainly she does it for the thrill, not the credits.
no subject
"BLLLLEEEEEEEEAAAAARPH.... spicy." And describing her own belches. "I like it!" It was better than Zaford piss whiskey, at least.
(no subject)
(no subject)
i'm too lazy to cp tildes
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
...
Open to all!
It could be summed up in one word: mischief. That's what Flashpoint has in mind as she peruses the stalls in the shopping district. If it's cute, strange, ugly, bizarre, or just exotic then it catches her optic...as long as it would fit on the petite frame of a noodlebot drone. Clearly someone's planning to play dress-up. But given it's not her drone that she's planning on accessorizing, she's looking for the most ridiculous outfit imaginable.
Hmm... This flame colored belly dancer outfit might have merit...
She's not all mischief though. Flashpoint's also looking for clothes for her holoform to wear to work, so there's an occasion or two where the mech stands idly outside while a blond human female pokes through the clothing racks inside, mumbling to herself as she goes.
Now...Quark said: A) less clothing is better, B) accentuate your best features and C) try for sexy overall.
Yeah, she has no idea what she's doing. She seems to like pinstripes though.
[ B - Down in front, this is a movie theater! ]
Don't you hate it when someone wears an obnoxiously huge hat to a movie theater? Well, Flashpoint's not a hat wearer, but she is 16 feet of metal--17 if you include the spoiler maybe--who hasn't exactly picked the most considerate spot to plop herself down for this show. But hey, this section was empty when she got here! It's not her fault!
The Autobot has no idea what this movie is actually about, but the poster didn't have any half naked heroes or swooning victims (that she recognized) on it so that bodes well right?
((ooc: feel free to and decide what movie she's watching! (I welcome all horrible ideas). If multiple people tag in, we'll just assume she sees multiple movies at different times.))