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| Home Coming- Sort of.; Easy Quest. | |
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| Topic Started: Dec 11 2013, 08:00 PM (225 Views) | |
| Osiris | Dec 11 2013, 08:00 PM Post #1 |
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Pallor Lord
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Background: Shortly after the destruction of Cauldron a minor PTO functionary named Siberius realized there was a chance for an entrepreneurial spirit to make a killing; if only they could afford the startup costs. This PTO fellow promptly took out massive loans, and brought in some Keliouxan, Saiyan, and Avalanian investors. A few months later a brand new Mining Station could be found, floating amongst the asteroids and debris, turning over a nice profit. Realizing a person could get rich a lot faster if the money wasn't being split four ways Siberius hired himself a few assassins and high priced attorneys, and successfully managed to tie up the inheritance claims in court for at least the next fifty years. The respectability of the joint has taken a nose dive in the intervening months, but it has become a hang out of villainous scum and smugglers from all walks of life, and they make sure to pay their bar tabs. Title: Welcome to Suicide Station Location: Ruins of Cauldron/Suicide Station Difficulty: Easy Description: For some reason or another you have made your way to Suicide Station; the home of the most villainous and treacherous beings across the galaxy. Just minutes after docking your ship you are accosted in the hanger bay by a trio of brutes, demanding a 1000 zeni protection fee to make sure your ship doesn't get broken into while you are on the station. Prove you aren't just some fish in this new pond of sharks! Requirement: Must have a Space Ship. Reward: +400 zeni, +4 DP, +35 all stats, +4 Rp Credits |
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| Osiris | Dec 17 2013, 09:17 PM Post #2 |
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Pallor Lord
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Regel in his long flowing robes, Juku was the picture perfect master representing that which all Keliouxians aspired to be. Yet, for all his wisdom and insightfulness . . . he had underestimated the darkness that festered in his only apprentice. Now, after close to a year of searching, he finally had the chance to right the wrong and to help the young man deal with his pain. Well, that was what hoped at least. “Osiris, I am coming in now.” Only a moment after the anouncment the hydraulic door slid back into the wall with a soft hiss of air. The Pallor Lord looked up slowly from his book covered desk,”Normally one asks if they may enter a private quarters,” as he spoke, the young demon causally closed each book and began to shuffle them away into a drawer. That small, knowing smirk appeared on Juku’s somewhat wrinkled face, “Well, most people aren’t your Master either.” “It has been a long time since I’ve had a master of any kind,” he stood up as the last book slid into the concealment of the desk drawer. The Keliouxian glanced at the hard covered tome before it vanished, “As far as I am concerned, you fled my tutelage . . . you never left it proper. Besides, you still use the habits I taught you for self study, so really you never stopped learning through me. Maybe that is a stretch though.” “What did you come down here for, Juku? I doubt it was merely to debate our relationship,” Osiris spoke with iced tones. “You know we are going back to Cauldron, Osiris. So, why have you remained silent? Aren’t you curious at all why I would take you back?” Juku strolled across the room and leaned against the black desktop. “I have had more important things to be concerned about, like a month’s worth of memory loss . . . maybe more. What ever intention you and your Empire have for me, I don’t care. I am no longer bound to the Keliouxian Nation. My loyalty comes at a price now,” the sound of defiance. “The Keliouxain Empire never went back on its deal with you. Those of the Saoirsen who still live are full citizens of the Empire. Many of the people you protected are still alive because you fought for their freedom to leave Cauldron. Hundreds of wandering souls just looking for somewhere they can start fresh, and heal old wounds . . . but they can’t! That is why the Empire needs your help.” Juku held his hands out in an almost pleading gesture. The Pallor Lord stood there looking into the eyes of his former mentor, a hint of malice delicately etched around his amethyst eyes. With a sharp tug on the loose black shirt, the cloth sprung to life in mimicry of water. The fabric lengthened down towards the floor, and even rose up over Osiris’ head to form a hood perfectly suited to his horned vistage. As it stretched and reformed into the youth’s normal cloak, veins of crimson hue spread through it and then bled out until the new vestment was a bloody beacon. The only black left took the strange form of the Black Sun crest painted across the shoulder blades. “I don’t see your point. If they want to find a fresh start, then they should.A few hundred people means little in an empire of billions.” Juku shook his head sending the long braid running down his back swinging slowly, “Normally, you would be right . . . but you taught these people to fight. You taught these people a life of war. They know how to blend in, to live off of barely anything, get what they need quietly when it suits them and take it forcibly when necessary. As long as you took orders from the Keliouxian Government, so did they. When you went rogue though, so did a small army of angry, confused, and leaderless militants.” With a deep sigh, the old master resolved himself to speak the truth as plainly as possible, “The Saiorsen has become a terrorist organization, Osiris. They have been searching for the people responsible for Cauldron’s destruction. Anyone they even think is involved, they threaten and attack until their questions are satisfied or they are forced to retreat off world.” Turning away, the Pallor Lord pulled the heavy Akennian tome up onto his hip and hooked the chain around his waist, “So, once again you are afraid of the wolves running through the lands and your plan is to put your leash on their alpha to turn them into your dogs?” Pure white unlike anything nature created, the naked blade of Zar’rock lifted into the air as its master inspected the serpentine blade, “I don’t see much reason to call them back, Juku. I want to see the people responsible punished just as much as they do. It may serve my purposes better to let them run wild.” “You would let them keep hurting innocent people just to satisfy your blood lust? They are acting outside the bounds of any reasonable vigilantism, if there even exists such a thing. In the last two months alone they have destroyed seventeen structures and killed 128 people in the Avalonian Protectorate. We can only suppress so much information, and our allies will only tolerate so much. We either renounce their citizenship and hunt them down . . . or you get them reigned back under control. The Keliouxian Empire will not risk losing the Protectorate as an ally when the galaxy is on the brink of total war!” Osiris slammed Zar’rock into its hilt with a resounding thud, “And what would you have me call them back to, Juku? Graves?! There is nothing of our olds lives left but the scars that never seem to fade! You say the galaxy is on the brink of war? You are a fool to think that this galaxy is ever at peace, master,” the last word twisted with sarcasm. Coming off the desk, the old Keliouxian Master stood up straight, “The scars, the graves . . . . sometimes, they are the greatest reason to fight, don’t you think?” Juku’s voice became soft as he looked across the room, “Yes, Osiris, I would have you call them back to the graves of their people. I would have you remind them of what they stood for, and what they once fought so valiantly to attain: freedom.” Dark violet orbs followed the Keliouxian’s gaze; a small trinket of roughly woven fabric stringing together a seemingly random set of small items before ending with its length wrapped securely around three pieces of bone: Two vertebrae of different sizes and shape, and the remnant of a rib bone broken and jagged at one end. “Living without purpose, that is not freedom . . . its torture. They are shackled by their anger, a taskmaster who forces its slaves to do nothing but destroy. That is no way to honor the sacrifices of the dead. Bring your people home. Bring them home so you can take the gravestones and use them to build anew. That is the only way to make the scars fade, the only way to truly heal. If we keep fixating on the pain, how can we grow?” Osiris walked over to the homemade talisman and picked it up, “I have grown. I have fed upon my pain so many times that I am not sure what I would be without it. There are many ways to become more than what you once were . . . and I have found many of the most unpleasant. What right do I have to drag more people through the things that sometimes make me wish I had never been born?” The tension in the room seemed to slowly evaporate into a sense of solemn procession. “You walk a dark path Osiris, no one would be able to say otherwise. In these dark times though, people need leaders unafraid to march on without the light. Its your duty to show these people the way, to lead them through the darkness without falling away into it.” Shaking his head the youth was nearly whispering, “Who is to say I haven’t already fallen myself?” “I believe you will if you turn away from your people right now,” there was a deep sincerity in every word. “Those are from your mother, Saoirsen, are they not?” Osiris looked back at his former master, “And her two murders, but how did you know that though?” “I saw some of the Saoirsen carrying them on their way to some kind of meeting once. When I inquired about it, they called it the Letum Umbilicalis and said it was a tradition they had picked up from when you first created the Saoirsen. They refused to tell me anything more, but now that I see one up close . . . I think I understand.” A puff of air exited from the Pallor Lord’s nostrils, “I never knew they did that. It was just suppose to be a way to remember what little of a mother I once had.” “They likely did not want to risk offending you, nor did they even seem to talk about it amongst themselves very much. Its a great honor and burden to carry the memory of a loved with you . . . These people are already trying to follow in your footsteps, you cannot deny them the fulfillment of your duty.” Osiris tucked the talismen away into a protected pocket, “So, I was right all along; we are never truly free. We always have shackles in one form or another.” Juku softly set his hand on his pupil’s shoulder, “Duty is not slavery, it is a system that allows us to control our destiny. I have always believed you would become a noble man, Osiris. I think you deeply yearn to make this galaxy a better place. After all, why else would you have recruited this crew you have now?” “I was building my own empire . . . a Cosmic Empire,” the youth’s voice began to drift away as though his mind was on another world, or another thousand worlds, “It seems I shall serve two empires.” Juku expression shifted to one that was all at once pleased and curious, “I would dearly like to hear more about this Comic Empire you speak of, but I believe we should be arriving shortly. Shall we go take back your home?” “Take back?” the Pallor Lord narrowed his eyes with a deep sense of loathing settling into his stomach, a feeling that was not soon to pass as Juku went about giving a detailed report on the Ruins of Cauldron since he had been away. Soon, the Master-Student bond between the two was quickly rebuilding as they combined their mental mights upon a single goal: Strangle Suicide Station into Submission. WC: 1,903 |
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| Osiris | Dec 17 2013, 10:17 PM Post #3 |
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Pallor Lord
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Suicide Station- Docking Bay “I know I said it before, but I am glad you are back Captain, so everyone else too . . . except maybe the Tri-Pack,” Nellic spoke as the five man team walked down the ramp of Perse’s Fist. “Hey, if we knew we would be coming here next . . . maybe we would have helped look for him more. This place is going to be fun,” Hansel had a broad faced grin showing everyone of his teeth . . . even the ones better left unseen. Osiris took a deep breath and grimaced at the stagnant scent of imported oxygen, “This is certainly not my home. Now that we are all back, why don’t we burn this place to the ground and start again?” “Fuck yeah, just let me grab the hooch first,” Branishes rumbling laughter echoed from his belly as the short alien threw his head back. Grel suddenly spoke up as something caught his attention, “Man, the fuck is that guy?” Everyone turned to see what he was pointing at; A giant of a humanoid standing at least nine feet stalked towards the party. Its greyish-grey scales laid across his hunched frame like dry snake sheds, and its eyes just barely peeked out over bulging cheeks situated around an oversized mouth. In this hulking creature’s shadow, a pair of nearly human looking men walked with an abundant amount of confidence. Their high standing orange mohawks, upturned noses, and thick patches of fur along their forearms showed them to be a species all their own: Kendlers. It was one hell of an ugly trio, and their voices matched their appearance. “This is an awfully nice ship, it would be such a pity if anything happened to it. Lucky to you, that’s what we are here for . . . we are going to need your safe docking fee now. You know, to make sure nothin’ bad happens,” the great grey-green creature seemed to chew the words and spit them out more than actually speak them. Hansel looked to his left and then to his right in an exaggerated search, “Who you talking to, us? I don’t think you boys know what you are doing.” “Shut your mouth little brat, the grown ups are talking,” the kendler to the left nearly shouted at the Lismian. Before an insult match could get started, Nellic jumped in, “Why don’t you guys go find another customer, we aren’t in the habit of paying strangers.” The hulking form began to chuckle a bit, “Why don’t you just get with the program before 1,000 zeni looks like a small price to pay? If you don’t, there will be trouble.” With a slight gurgling sound, the grey-green alien spit a great glob of spit onto the loading ramp. If there wasn’t for the sound of metal being dissolved in a powerful corrosive, it would have been utterly silent as the two groups stared one another down. “Well?!” the same kendler demanded as his patience grew thin. The faint glow of ki building up in his palm shifted the shadows around him. “Oh, fuck o--” Hansel’s voice was drowned out by a sudden explosion. The entire space station shook as burning ash sprayed across the docking bay in a multitude of sparkling colors as the very elements still burned. Everyone was grabbing at their ears as the noise of the great concussion echoed over and over again. With wide eyed terror, everyone looked towards the epicenter of the event only to find the hulking grey-green alien had utterly vanished. Osiris took another deep breath smelling the carbon and sulfur ashes filling the air, “Still not right, but better.” WC: 649 TWC: 2,552 |
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8:58 PM Jul 10