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Bartering with Blood; Medium Quest
Topic Started: Dec 23 2013, 01:17 AM (307 Views)
Osiris
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Pallor Lord
Roleplay Guide
Title: Gaining Notoriety

Location: Ruins of Cauldron/Suicide Station

Difficulty: Medium

Description: Accidents happen. It seems that the gang you obliterated the other day was in fact working under the table for Siberius. They were secretely paying him a share of their earnings, buying the right to be the top gang on Suicide Station. Siberius has sent his top henchman, Barnak, to let you know you have 72 hours to come up with the payment the gang would have made this week, or you will be forced to leave Suicide Station- through an airlock.

Reward:
+600 zeni, +10 DP, +70 all stats, +10 Rp Credits
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Osiris
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Blinding white light suddenly poured from the hallway as a small sun was let loose within the confines of Suicide Station.

DO IT NOW!” Nellic’s disembodied voice screamed out from the epicenter of the flare.

In unison's, the three Star Wolves jumped out from around their cover and stood with both hands formed into makeshift guns. With their eyes covered by thick, black eye shields to protect against the harsh photons bombarding the area, the short Lismians almost looked like children playing cops and robbers after stealing their grandmother’s glaucoma glasses.

Then they opened fire . . .

The whole station shook as great tear drop ki blasts erupted from their fingertips with enough recoil to throw the pirate’s hand straight backwards. Great chunks of metal debris ripped from the hallway with each explosion adding the sound of metallic rain to the ever growing rumble. Support struts screamed their distress as they threatened to let the interior of the space station crumble in on itself.

By the time the light finally faded, black smoke obscured anything that would have been normally visible. From blinding day to sightless night in two beats of heart. The Tri-pack always had a taste for overkill, but this one might just take the grand prize.

Standing there, all three blonde men stared into the wafting darkness while they listened to the station grown in pain. Every few seconds the sound of sheet metal tearing free and falling would add a sharp note to the cacophony of shifting stress noises. After a while though, the waiting got to be too much for Hansel.

So, think we got them all?

I don’t know, why don’t you volunteer to walk in there blind to find out?” Grel grumbled as he leaned back against the pock marked wall and checked on his bleeding leg.

Just wait, the air filters will kick on in a second and clear this smoke out. No one needs to go in bli--

The sharp crack of two energy pistols shooting at the same time cut Nellic’s words short. Small yellow streaks came flinging from the smoke in a blind attempt to hit something at either end of the hallway.

I think you got them a little scared, Nellic. Now they can’t play dead and hope we just go away,” Branish started chuckling a little bit as he shouted into the smoke and towards what he expected to be his handler’s position.

There is no need to yell, Branish.” A foot suddenly crashed through an overhead vent followed by the lithe body of the Damaskian officer, “It’s mostly intact up there. I think the sensor just got knocked out. Should only take another minute or so for another one to pick up on the particulate matter.

You okay boss?” Hansel gestured towards a deep black bruise fringed with purple and putrid yellow along Nellic’s oblique.

With a gentle touch, she ran a hand over the burnt cloth and tested how tenderized the flesh had become, “Yeah, just a glancing shot. I didn’t catch it full on like Grel. How you doing?

The shortest lismian shrugged, “Hurts like a bitch, and probably needs some stitches. I doubt a little bit of wound-glue will get the job done this time. On the other hand, I don’t think it hit anything super important. Pretty much got the bleeding to stop, but I need to get off this leg.

Big, industrial sized fans began to kick on one after another filling the corridors with enough propeller noise someone might think a B-52 bomber was trying to land. A second later, the gushing fiz of sprinklers added to the mix.

Grel, stay here and keep a look . . . and don’t bleed to death. Hansel and Branish, we are going to do a sweep for survivors. After we get the place cleared, I will have a little chat with our friends. You two get the fun job today: take anything and everything that looks even a little important or valuable. We will divide everything up when we get back like usual.

We taking prisoners today?” Hansel smiled while bouncing his eyebrows comically.

Nellic knew the game he was playing, “Yeah, but only if they are feeling chatty. No more wasting time. This place might be a bit lawless, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be people coming to find out what the hell that noise was.

WC: 770
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Osiris
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Back on Perse’s Fist.

Osiris sat on the bridge of his modified warship looking at an oversized picture of Juku projected onto the main screen.

So, Osiris, how goes things so far? I wasn’t expecting you to call back in with a report so quickly. To tell you the truth, Hech and I have not had the time to do much yet.” The keliouxian Master’s eyes held a note of worry, but his face stayed calm and regel. Maybe it was that sense of nearly absolute self control which drew Osiris to him . . . or maybe it was that same ability to be cold and distant which allowed them to connect so well.

Raising a clawed hand in a nonchalant way, “Don’t fret Master Juku, I don’t expect you to be able to act so rapidly within the confines of the bureaucracy you must travel. I simply wanted to make you aware of some advantages my colleagues and I have already found for ourselves.

I am listening,” Juku interlocked his hands in front of his chest.

Osiris punched in a few commands along the communications module and a smaller sub image of Henex came onto the viewing screen for their mutual viewing, “Do you know who this man is?

He seems familiar, but I can’t say that I do.

That is likely because he fell from prominence when Cauldron was destroyed. He was formally referred to as Director Henex when he controlled large swathes of the shipbuilding industry on Cauldron. To say that he was one of the most important men for the Keliouxian economy would be no exaggeration. I even helped him grow and maintain that status through various trades as the representative of the Saoirsen. However, since then, he has fallen on rather black days.

While Osiris was busy punching in another set of commands, Juku filled the silence, “And what importance does this man have now?

A small bar chart suddenly replaced Henex’s image on screen, “Here, you see the spike in both imported goods and exported goods shown by the intelligence already gathered by the Keliouxian scouting division. They couldn’t explain it thoroughly at the time, and chalked it up to Siberius’ growing reputation. It was, in fact, the time period in which Henex began working for Siberius as his business coordinator and accountant. The intellectual might that once guided Kelioux’s ship production and mining ventures is now organizing Suicide Station into production center for illicit trade.

How did you find this out in a few short hours?” Juku was almost immediately sceptical.

He told me so . . . Henex is one of my old friends. I had thought him dead, but now it seems fate is playing into my hands.

You intend on turning him?

Yes, and no. I don’t need to turn him to my side, he is already there seeking justice for the death of his daughter. However, I do need to show him that I have the upper hand on Siberius. With the information he can provide us, we won’t have to actually replace the current power structure on the station. We can put a leash on it from within . . . make Siberius our puppet rather than having to deal with a power vacuum.

Juku shook his head slightly, “Bringing men like Siberius to heel is almost impossible. They are greedy and conniving creatures that grow restless unless they have more and more. We should still stick with trying to replace him with someone more trust worthy.

I agree with you completely, he should be replaced as the leader . . . but not as the face of Suicide Station. Let him feel like he still has some power, but control his environment completely. Even men with the strongest constitution yield when they see no way out but to surrender . . . and he is certainly not the type to risk death. We must simply show him that we are the ones who control the sword of damocles hanging over his head,” another image came on screen for Juku to view.

The keliouxian Master’s eyes widened a little, “This borders upon the cruel, Osiris.

Men understand their own trades best of all. We just need to show Siberius that we excel far beyond what his greedy mind can conjure. After all, why would he risk his precious station that earns him so much money. In this game, he is the one with everything to lose, and we the ones with everything to gain. By time he fully realizes what is going on, he will be begging to strike a deal,” the Pallor Lord sat back into his chair and waited to hear what his teacher had to say.

And what if he decides to call you on your bluff?” Juku was obviously clicking his way through the blueprint files Osiris had sent him.

It won’t be a bluff. There is nothing here worth saving, master. Its existence is discretionary and should only be measured in the amount of convenience it provides to us. Once it becomes inconvenient, its existence shall match its worth: nil.

Juku closed out the file on the screen, “You think everyone on that station deserves to die like that? Surely, there are souls aboard who should be given the right to assure their survival.

Osiris nodded slowly, “I will take those souls with me, and we shall go ahead with our secondary phase of the plan. Those wishing to be near Cauldron will have an alternative to Suicide Station . . . only those actively seeking the particular climate this place breeds shall remain. Those people, I have no qualms with having their blood on my hands. Whether I prefer things to take such a turn, well that is another matter entirely.

I see you have already persuaded yourself to this course of action too entirely for me to change things. We will keep moving forward, and I will have faith your judgement is sound in the constitution of our enemy,” Juku’s face was set into a stern mask.

You honor me, teacher. I must go now, it seems my men have arrived back aboard.

WC: 1,083
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Osiris
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Moments later.

Nellic walked onto the bridge with two large overstuffed bags which she promptly swung onto the nearest console top.

Where are the other three?” Osiris’ eyes swiveled to look behind her only to find an empty corridor, “They are usually so eager to give their mission reports . . . albeit in exaggerated form.

I sent them to the medical room, Grel had a pretty nasty leg wound that needed to be stitched up.” the damaskian woman stood at rigid attention before he captain.

The Pallor Lord stood up and walked over to his first officer, “It looks like you should have accompanied them. How bad is it?

It’s no big deal,” she suddenly stopped and cringed as Osiris ran his fingertips from left oblique towards her navel. “It will heal in a few days. I’ve seen you do worse to yourself during training and keep going.

Her supple flesh beneath his fingertips felt good, too good. Nerves fired in rapid succession creating a riotous parade running through his arm and into his spinal column before suddenly unleashing a beastial chain reaction. It was like he could hear her heart beat, and see the very flow of Nellic’s blood through her veins just beneath the skin. Was he looking at the foundation of her beauty? All of the wonderously asymmetrical details mixing and changing until the whole becomes symmetrical.

Or maybe it was envy possessing his senses? Every detail of her body unique and whole, even while damaged. Yet, he felt empty . . . like a cheap copy that needed to be broken open to find the ‘made by’ stamp inside. Yes, that was it. This urge, this urge to be someone unique . . . to be unmistakably yourself. If he could, in that instant, maybe, just maybe he would crawl into her flesh and take that unique personhood he so deeply lacked: to be Nellic and to revelle in the vicious beauty she possessed wearing that torn and soaking uniform.

Don’t mistake the appearance of a thing for what it really is, Nellic. What you and I experience . . . I find it difficult to imagine they can be compared accurately.” Osiris looked up and saw a flushed face staring back at him, “You should go put some salve on this and bandage it. Meet me in the armory when all three of you are ready. I’ll be there sorting out what you brought back.

Nellic’s eyes seemed slightly glazed over as she turned to walk away, her steps oddly out of her normal rhythm.

By the way, were there any hostages to be had?” the Pallor Lord’s voice was stable, but within he felt disconnected from reality.

The first officer turned around slowly as though she needed time to remember, “Y-yes, but he was unconscious and bleeding pretty badly. I am not sure he will pull through to actually wake up. Sorry, sir, I should have told you that at the beginning.

Don’t fret the matter. Sometimes . . . we forget the strangest things . . . even when they seem so blatant.” Osiris’ voice became more and more vacant as the sensation of someone attempting to drive a clue into his cerebellum overshadowed everything else.

With a small gesture, he sent Nellic away before turning to retake the captain’s chair.

What was I thinking about, just before I felt it?” Again, the youth spoke aloud when he would have simply thought the words in the past. “Nellic’s blood, and veins, and what lie just beneath the skin . . .

With his words trailing off, he looked down at his own arm. Pushing the sleeve back to his elbow, Osiris traced the deep purple veins coursing with blood just beneath his pale skin. The bold ridges of old and new scars were all in the right place, and he couldn’t remember his circulatory system ever looking different . . . but there was something else, or rather a lack of it.

WC: 685
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Osiris
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The sharp black point ran across the pale skin until it found just the right spot and stopped. It slowly pushed creating a dimple in the taunt surface at first, and then a small droplet suddenly obscured the line between skin and nail.

Amethyst eyes were locked onto the forearm in wide eyed fascination as Osiris drove his thumb down with increasing intensity. The pain radiating out from the spot was escalating as the claw pushed its way down into the muscle beneath. Warning sirens screamed in his mind as the instinct to stop the self mutilation fought his conscious will. Still, the nail sliced its way into the weeping meat until it could go no further.

Sweat dripped down his nose as the Pallor Lord summoned the will to do what needed to be done; he pushed his shaking hand to the right so that the slight wound was growing centimeter by centimeter. Crimson blood ran out of the opening in ever growing rivulets until finally, he could not will his shaking hand to go any further. With his willpower fading quickly, Osiris pressed down with his thumb like he was trying to peel an orange.

A sharp gasping breath barely restored any air to the youth’s laboring lunges. He had suffered worse wounds than this time and time again . . . but to do it to yourself was a completely different kind of horror.

Looking down into the small wound, Osiris could see the twitching muscle fibers which caused his left hand to jerk and shake with pain. That was all he could see though; pink, and previously completely healthy flesh. There was no sign of-

Zork,” he whispered the name suddenly remembering the black tendrils the parasite once extended through his body.

His circumstances suddenly made even less sense. The Pallor Lord could clearly remember the Skeleton Crown embedded into his skull, and still feel its spiked mass in place . . . so why couldn’t he remember ‘defeating’ the beast required to obtaining it? What possible purpose would someone have to rip the parasite from his body, and yet leave him with the other artifacts of power he possessed, or why leave him alive at all?

More over, he hadn’t been abducted by someone even, it had been a swarming hive of insectoids who seemed bent on nothing but consuming Damaskia. How did they even have the means to coax Zork from its host?

Suddenly springing up, Osiris grabbed the two bags Nellic had brought onto the bridged and stormed his way towards the armory. Disgust tensed his stomach as he realized there was yet another aspect of his life that made no sense whatsoever. Holes, giant gaping holes, marked his history. Most of them had nothing at all to do with memory loss, but they were still there . . . sucking in logic and bogging down his ability to push into the future.

At once he was both glad and infuriated by the realization his recent memory loss had brought on: his life was missing pieces, important pieces.

WC: 509
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Osiris
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Two hours later in the armory.

So, what are we just going to wait until that guy wakes up to do something? Honestly, I would not bank on it. Branish did a number on that dude’s skull on top of getting gut shot by Nellic. I mean, its not like anything here is tell us how to get to the guy on top of the food chain,” Hansel sat back in his chair talking into stack of zeni he was counting through.
Oh? You think so?” Osiris glanced at the lismian with a disapproving expression which only lasted a few seconds. His hands never stopped moving as he dished out the last remaining bills to Grel.

You aren’t keeping anything for yourself, captain?” he asked as if concerned, but there was no hesitation as his hands scooped up the currency.

The Pallor Lord very purposefully set the now empty envelope down on the table in front of him, “This contains everything I wanted.

It’s empty though,” you could always count on Branish to point of the blatantly obvious.

No, its full of information. One doesn’t put all their zeni in an envelope just for the sake of storage in a place like this . . . especially not a sealed one. So, obviously this was meant to go to someone. So, who do you think an organized band of thugs pays large sums of money too?” the question hung in the air for a second or two.

You think Siberius will come looking for his payment from these guys?” Nellic finally spoke after having been uncharacteristically silent for the duration of their meeting.

That, and I am sure he will threaten us in order to pay for the damages you four managed to inflict.” The Pallor Lord leaned his head back and looked at the tiled roof in boredom.

You don’t seem very worried about the situation,” Hansel tucked his cut of look into an interior vest pocket.

I was expecting them to be here already,” the words almost seemed prophetic.

A buzzing noise came over the intercom warning of someone stepping onto the loading ramp. The holographic projector at the center of the table came to life with the image of a tall, strong jawed Keliouxian approaching the ship’s main hatchway. His fist raised and then lowered like a battering ram upon the door as he knocked. With each strike, the ship shuddered slightly.

I think the taxman heard you talking about him,” Grel’s tone took a turn for the more serious after a brief pause, “Sort of surprised they only sent one guy after everything that has happened.

Nellic reached over and clicked a single button near the projector. The image suddenly changed as diagnostic lines overlayed the picture, and dozens of statics ran across the top. Every camera on the Perse’s Fist had been custom fitted with a scouter, a feature that seemed a waste of effort until now.

God damn, 125 thousand power level? Who the hell is this guy?” Hansel leaned forward and squinted at the projection like it would make a difference in his ability to recognize the keliouxian outside.

It’s our main target,” the youth’s voice seemed to lack any enthusiasm.

That is Siberius?” Branish was clearly confused by the statment.

No, it’s his right hand man. Probably the one person Siberius trusts to do the real work Suicide Station,” Nellic answered the question before her captain was forced to do so.

Osiris stood up and pulled out a bright red gem the size of an ostrich egg, “Let’s go give Siberius a token of our intentions.

WC: 654
TWC: 3,707
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