Quark's: The Opening [Video]

2014-03-10 12:46[personal profile] norefunds
norefunds: (bar tending)
[Quark's been gone for a bit on the excursion to the Eye of Sharef, but he's back now and he's standing in front of a shiny new sign with his name on it.]

Despite some.... setbacks- [He clears his throat and unconsciously prods at the plaster over his broad nose.] -Quark's is finally open for business.

We've got games of chance and skill, [The camera pans to the shiny new game tables and wheels.]

Good food and drink, [And now to the bar top stacked with bottles and glasses of all sizes.]

Not to mention, good company, [Quark waggles an eyebrow at that one.]

And 'karaoke' two nights a week.

If you happen to be of the robotic persuasion you'll have to use a holo avatar to mingle, but I do have energon on tap and 'engex' is forthcoming.
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OTA: And you lived there so long

2014-03-09 19:59[personal profile] totallytrustworthy
totallytrustworthy: (smugbutt)
Who: Chloe Frazer + You (maybe? possibly??)

Where: Street of Gods, New Arrival Housing, etc

When: Sometime generally around the 9th (earlier is A-OK aside from the initial few hours of arrival)

Warnings: thievery/ Chloe Frazer's colorful vocabulary

A: S t r e e t  o f  G o d s

Religion isn't really her thing. Deep thoughts, hours of meditation, belief in something better-- all of it sits firmly outside the Chloe Frazer venn diagram. If she wanted to put her faith in the unlikely, she'd place bets on being home-- rich, with her feet up on a plush hotel bed somewhere worth hunkering down in-- by tomorrow morning. Not here, not dealing with this.

But where faith goes so does finance. Money and finery and all the little things worth stealing. All the big things, too, though there's no place for a heist in a city like this. So she cases this lengthy, well-looked after district first: patrols the streets eyeing temples, noting architecture, admiring the peculiar clothes, the plaques out front. Notes what she recognizes, considers the reasoning behind everything she doesn't.

Maybe she'd never admit it out loud, not even to herself, but the cerebral side of it all (against the nature of her personality) comes naturally.

Which is good, because that's the sort of bullshit talk that'll bring her closer to any potential collection plates on her cyclical hunting path. Tenth time today, actually.

( it's kind of strange now you're gone )
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Boromir - 01 - Going for a run

2014-02-14 18:51[personal profile] doesnotsimply
doesnotsimply: <user name=tyrmer> (One does not simply walk into Morder)
[[ooc: interested in both replies to his network query or in person replies in the park.

Since arriving, Boromir has been rather despondent.  The vastness of the Teuberg unnerves him and to get anywhere where he is told things are happening he has to take one of these metal carts that the natives call trollies.  The constant vibration makes him queasy and he does not find them at all pleasant.

While waiting for the powers that be to get back in touch with him regarding his application for military service, he's been filling his time with exercise and workouts.  He's become quite the fixture in his neighbourhood with daily runs, and today he's doing laps of the park at the renaissance centre.  Stopping by a water fountain for a drink, he ponders that though he's never been stronger or fitter (especially for a dead man, shudder), he hasn't engaged in proper combat practice or swordplay since arriving.  He takes out his communicator from a pouch and painstakingly taps out a message.

"Greetings, I am Boromir of Gondor.  Would anyone be interested in some sparring practice either with swords or unarmed?"  He beams with pride, sweat dripping off him from his run, he was at least getting the hang of the written messages on this piece of sorcerous machinery.
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1st [action] - Hangar Bay

2014-02-07 23:23[personal profile] plotblackhole
plotblackhole: (come on bro seriously)
Shu was in the one place that was easiest to find him. That is to say, he wass not treating his life here any differently than he would anywhere else. He was in the hangar bay, attending to his own machine, the Granzon.

In terms of giant robots, it's not exactly massive. If only compared by size, it's about the average size of a real robot. But from the way Shu treats it and the way he keeps others from messing with his machine, one would think it was something special. Frankly, it was. The engine in itself could possibly be considered a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands. The name "Anti-Matter Annihilation Engine" would have been enough to set plenty of people on edge. Shu, however, was proud of it as it was an invention of his own. It was perfectly efficient and didn't require refueling, like other mechs did.

He held a pad in his hand and it was was hooked up to his machine. The lowered gravity in the area made it simple for him to traverse to the various parts of his machine, hooking up his datapad to each section and running diagnostics. A ladder also helped but he didn't need to move it since he could jump across various pieces of armor plating.

Finally, he settled down on the floor, by the legs. A computer was located there and Shu was uploading all the information into it for a final check. If the fleet obtained and researched the information about his machine, that was their business. He'd find out eventually and do something about it. For now, he simply pressed the buttons on the console.

"Everything seems to check out. All that remains is a test flight but, hm. I wonder if the commander here would approve it."

A few more button presses and he started to leave. Of course, anyone was free to interrupt him in the meantime. Shu isn't exactly pressed for time or in a rush to get this done. As a matter of fact, anyone with (gasp) intelligent questions will get intelligent answers. As for everything else, who knows.
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For Science

2014-02-07 10:36[personal profile] unknowing_user
unknowing_user: (it's where now?)
Despite ending up in some bizarre place that wasn't home, again, and running into someone that not even ten minutes before waking up in this place had been trying to kill him. Sam was doing pretty well, likely in part that after twitching out in a corner over seeing a younger version of a face that helped raised him on someone that was trying to kill him, he realized the murdering was not going to happen. For now at least.

This meant poking about the place. More specifically finding used or about to be thrown out electronics and other gadgets he could take apart and figure out. Mostly because he tuned out everything regarding becoming a student here and thus part of what exactly he would gain from such.

This little adventure proved a bit more profitable then he had originally thought, since he hadn't had to barter manual labor to get things. Now how to get it back to his little living space and where to start first was the question. Considering he was going to draw more looks if he kept wandering around carrying battered items.






((OOC: Action tags or prose is more then welcomed brosefs. Also placeholder but I work split shift today so I may not be able to get to tags until late tonight or tomorrow depending on how long I have to spend cleaning my kitchen after this parent dinner.))
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0002: A Proper Q&A

2014-02-02 12:25[personal profile] crux_npcs
Early in the morning, everyone's comm devices start jangling in pleasant tones, marking a new message. It's text, posted over the network, and at the top is an official looking seal, featuring the rotating pyramid that seems to be the Confederacy's symbol.

So, I hear you people woke up yesterday. Congratulations. I'm sorry you had to deal with that simpering incompetent, Baker. Allow me to illuminate you so that you can better appreciate your situation.

It is 0458 A.C. That's After Confederation, marking the date in which humanity, the Dorfs, and the Jool chose to band together for power, security, and knowledge. By old Earth calendars, that puts us somewhere near the end of the 27th Century, but I don't know exactly when. Ancient history is not my area of expertise and we had multiple calendar changes before settling on an interstellar standard.

I am Thaddeus T. Thrax III, deputy mayor of the Teuberg, the mighty cityship on which you stand. The city in which you now live is in a ship sixty miles across, with layers bringing our great vessel up to thirty miles in height. At the time of this writing, it houses some five hundred thousand souls. We are a great city, born and bred to colonize brave new worlds and explore unseen frontiers. The mayor, the honorable Ms. Maria Masters, will address you when we've finished this latest round of memorial services. Fleet Admiral Bulsara may also address you. Do not try to address him first.

You have been given two months to examine this city, see its needs, and decide where you fit in. Will you join the government? Perhaps you'd rather see what lower-level employment there is, such as becoming a baker or working at a market? Furthering your education is highly suggested and, unlike some more primitive cultures, we respect students and will provide you with living expenses as you work. As a note, this will be mandatory for citizens up to the age of sixteen, our legal limit for adulthood. I should also bring up that we do allow apprenticeships for our younger citizens and guests, should they decide on an employment track they desire early on.

Scholarly pursuits and regular life too boring for you? Fair enough. There is always the military, of course. We just lost thirty of those brave souls in a skirmish yesterday, I'm sure the recruiters will be happy to hear from you. We have tracks for Medical, Command, Engineering, Security/Infantry, Pilots, and Science. That said, you will still be expected to go through training. It will not be easy but after a few swift weeks, you too can go to interesting new places, meet fascinating new people, and pray to whatever God you worship that they don't speak with acid rainbows. Some of them do. I've met them.

Of course, not everyone will want such a rigid, disciplined life. You can hardly be blamed, the military isn't for everyone. But if you still want to defend this city, you may wish to join the militia. Civilian operated, funded, and supplied, the militias of old Earth traditionally answered to the county or the Count, with no connection to the military. Here, though, the military is in command. The militia will have a military liason, but you will not have to follow the same strict discipline of our men and women in uniform. You will deploy when they say and do your utmost to follow their orders in a combat situation, but the rest is up to you. God help us.

Of course, if you want off this ship, there are plenty of other jobs other than fighting. We are always on the lookout for skilled farmers, educators, diplomats, pilots, traders, and asteroid miners! Plus, we will provide training for any of these jobs. We have two agricultural vessels available, and they could use all the help they get. Or, if you fancy yourself some kind of pop star or athlete, you could try for a job in the entertainment sector. I should warn you that competition is stiff. I could not in good conscience honestly suggest any of those jobs.

The more irritating among you might be asking now, "What if we don't want to help out? We didn't ask to come here." Well, we certainly would regret it if you felt that way, as we are doing our best to help you fit in and return you safely to your homes. However, after two months we'll no longer have the resources or the patience to assist you. We will drop you off at the nearest inhabitable planet or neutral space station and leave you there.

Ultimately, I hope it won't come to that. I wish for you to be as happy and productive as any average citizen. We will do our utmost to reverse the accident that brought you here, and it is my hope that when you do, you leave our universe a richer person than you entered it.

Your servant,
Thaddeus T. Thrax III
Deputy Mayor
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0001: A New Beginning

2014-02-01 15:58[personal profile] crux_mods
crux_mods: (Default)
Whatever your activities before, they're interrupted by a sudden lurching feeling, like someone's put a hook into the pit of your very being and yanked. There's a brief burst, a brilliantly twisting tunnel? And then silence. Stars fill your vision, along with bodies, machines, and not much else before everything mercifully goes black. The shock of it, more than the lack of air.

And then, there's sound. There's not much at first. Beeping. Lots of beeping. Some of it is irritatingly loud, and apparently it's the cause of a lot of excitement. When vision returns, the first thing to note would be alien writing blinking in your field of vision, displayed on a monitor or a clear bubble somewhere. Alien, but familiar enough for you to read "Awakening". Whatever that means, you're apparently not alone, as people in black and white uniforms are rushing through the large room you're in, the room filled with people hooked up to all kinds of machines. Of course, some of them don't look entirely like people.

All of a sudden, a haggered face fills your field of vision. "Great Shades of Elvis! Another one! Look, please remain calm." The poor nurse turns and starts to fiddle with some of the machines surrounding you. "There's been an accident, but you're okay. Try to stay quiet and don't disturb the other patients. Someone will be with you in a moment." They turn away to shout across the room, as if that wouldn't disturb anyone. "Hoi, Oglaf! Mark this one as alive so Security can take them for the briefing!" He gestures at some official looking people in red and black uniforms assisting other patients into wheelchairs. "Just flag one of them down, they'll take you to the briefing. We'll explain everything. Just don't panic, you're in good hands." He grins and pats your shin. "Welcome to the Fleet, eh? 'scume, someone else is starting to budge and I gotta make sure it's not some poor sot swallowed his tongue again." With that, he leaves you alone with your thoughts and the bright lights.

[Medical Arrival | Hangar Arrival | Briefing | Post-Briefing 1 | Post-Briefing 2]
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