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A Deal Struck In Greed-A Pact Made In Silence; Medium Quest
Topic Started: Dec 24 2013, 02:23 PM (429 Views)
Osiris
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Pallor Lord
Roleplay Guide
Title: Working for the Man.

Location: Ruins of Cauldron/Suicide Station

Difficulty: Medium

Description: Siberius likes your style; You have flare. He's offered you a position within his entourage and given you some responsibilities. Detail your activities for the week. Take out the 'trash', extort some petty cash from a few business owners on the station, and make sure all the shipments of illicet substances are on time.

Reward:
+600 zeni, +10 DP, +70 all stats, +10 Rp Credits, and -1 Alignment

Bonus: +1,000 zeni

Requirement: Gaining Notoriety quest complete.
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Osiris
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Pallor Lord
Roleplay Guide
Metal and white tile. The hangar deck was stark and monotone like most places one leaves a ship to rest. Only the flares of paint along the flanks of the housed trading vessels gave any ee catching detail. Most of that had been faded by countless atmospheric entries.

Violent shocks of blue. With barely anything of interest behind him, one was forced to focus on Barnak’s ocean blue hair set back in three rows of spikes. They jutted backwards almost eighteen inches from his scalp. At each base, the small static shaper bands looked like black rings studded with turquoise.

This was a man who knew how to strike an impression.

You owe a debt to Mister Siberius,” his voice wasn’t intimidating, just factual.

The sound of a fusion engine coming to life filled what would have been a rather long, awkward silence. Rather, it delayed that silence. It was, after all, inevitable.

Osiris’ eyes just stared up at the nearly seven foot tall alien with every hint of boredom evident in the lack of tension around his eyes. The striking violet orbs very gradually moved up and down to take in the full measure of this man demanding payment.

Barnack on the other hand, well, there was a slight bit of tension in his body, but not from uneasiness. It was more like he wanted to be somewhere else, doing something not so beneath him. He stared straight into the eyes of the young Cosmic Lord before him, even when they had drifted elsewhere.

Things were not proceeding quickly.

The four Wolves standing behind their captain shifted their weight slightly, but no one dared interfere with the strange contest going on.

The roar of the engine died away as the ship wheeled off towards the launching bay. Then the silence came back, harsher than before. Echoes of men at work upon their vessels only intensified how mute the standing men were. It was as if the loading ramp for Perse’s Fist had become an island where sound could not be born.

Barnack lost.

You have 72 hours to make the payment, or you will be leaving the station . . . without a ship.” The man made have become too impatient to deal with the silence, but he was also too practiced to be flustered by it.

Osiris looked down at his hand completely ignoring what the Keliouxian was saying. There, on his right ring finger, the silver wolf of the Star Wolves was inlaid upon a blue signet. Sometimes, he forgot he was technically a captain of the pirate organization. Sure, he paid his dues and periodically spoke with Mr. Rogers while transferring funds, or arranging to find a fence to sell to/buy from (that old bastard could find you anything given enough time, and zeni). Other than that though, he found no particular allegiance to the group. They had simply been a means to an end, and a nice client to have for the Cosmic Empire.

Now that he was thinking about it though, it bothered him. Were these people any different, truly, than the Star Wolves. Sure, maybe the wolves had a little tougher screening process and were better organized . . . but they were essentially the same: Criminals hungry to make a profit while living on territory that wasn’t rightful theirs. The Cauldron System did not belong to Siberius no matter how much ‘land’ rights he had bought up, or rather stolen with zeni that didn’t belong to him. Nor did Cactalysmia rightful belong to the Star Wolves, or any Lismian for that matter.

The longer the Pallor Lord stood there thinking in silence, the greater his inner anger grew. Lismians were nothing more than ungrateful children. Kelioux raised them from the barbaric ages, and what they did they get in return: rebellion, war, and now piracy. They hadn’t just biten the hand which fed them. They chewed on it, spit it out, and then tried to take the whole arm.

Osiris glanced back to the Tri-pack and thought to himself, “I will bring them all to bear, just as I brought these three into submission.”

He felt his silence had gone on long enough though, “Excuse me, I don’t believe I caught your name.”

Deep amber eyes squinted down at the Cosmic Lord, “My name is Barnack, but as far as you are concerned, you can just call me ‘the law’.

The sharply dressed (in the most literal sense with his studded leather attire) Keliouxian pulled something from a pocket, and threw it towards Osiris with a flick of his wrist. Before it could touch the silver breast plate, Nellic snatched the thing from the air: a small ornately folded piece of paper.

Bring that amount to the designated place, or you and your whole crew are going to will be asked to leave . . . through an airlock. Also, don’t bother trying to leave. The dockmaster has been told to hold your ship on station until Siberius says its okay.” Barnack looked down at the demonic vessel’s ring, “This ain’t Cactalysmia. Everyone pays their dues. No exceptions.

Without another word the Keliouxian spun around and started to march off the loading ramp. There was no hurry in his stride, and no fear upon his shoulders. Few thieves turn their back on a man without checking over his shoulder, but then again Barnack was not your standard thief.

Wait,” Osiris called out as though he had the right to nonchalantly order the man about.

Barnack stopped, and with slow deliberation turned about with an annoyed glint in his eyes.

Nellic had unfolded the piece of paper, and was now whispering into her captain’s ear.

You are going to leave without taking your boss his payment? I am sure Siberius is a man who prefers his pleasures now rather than later,” leisurely the demonic figure reached into his cloak and then produced an astoundingly large ruby. “I am quite certain this will cover the costs, and then some. I don’t take to the jewlers craft myself, and the chore of finding someone willing to pay me a respectable price seems rather tedious for my want. Surely though, with as high as standing as Mr. Siberius has, finding a buyer would be much less a hassle.”

The ‘knight among thugs’ turned all the way around and stared at the huge uncut gem suspiciously, “Where did you get it

Osiris shrugged slightly, “Discretion is a key element in our line of trade, is it not Barnack? I will assure you though, it is less than three months fresh and undocumented. Take it, appraise it, and return to me at your convenience. After all, we won’t be going anywhere without Siberius’ direction.”

Much more cautious now, Barnack walked back up the loading ramp. “Why would you give it up, if it’s valuable. I don’t believe for a minute you are too lazy to find a fence.”

The Pallor Lord smirked slightly, “You caught me. I was saving it for a special occasion.” Osiris could feel it now, he was taking the bait.

A special occasion? And what occasion is this?” Barnack reached out and took the great rudy thing from the upturned claw.

The next step in my career, obviously. Tell Siberius I will be waiting for my interview, if he finds my resume suitable,” this time it was the Pallor Lord’s turn to walk away.

The keliouxian grunted as he held the uncut gem into the air, “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

Nellic stepped sideways before turning around so she blocked the Keliouxian’s view, “Osiris, Captain Osiris.

WC: 1,321
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Osiris
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Less than two minutes went by before the five man crew was back within the armory and seated back around the central table. There was a quiet to the room as everyone sat working on their own little projects. It was not exactly an unpleasant quiet, but there was a sense that something had not been said, yet needed to be.

Hansel looked up from his work taking apart a looted energy pistol with a magnetic screwdriver, “So, boss, where did you get that huge rock. I mean, we have never seen it before . . . we’re kind of curious why you just gave it over to them? Shit, Mr. Rogers could have taken that thing and got us enough to buy ships for all six of us. Nice ships.

Osiris turned around from his work bench on the far, “Did you want one, Hansel?

The lismian’s yellow eyebrows furrowed closer together, “Well, yeah. That’s the sorta thing a captain dreams of finding. You probably could have retired on what it’s worth.

Grel felt the need to join the conversation, his mood still sour from his wound. “Did your Vagril friends dig that up on some backwater asteroid, or have you been slipping away some of the loot before we see it?

Nellic suddenly finished snapping back together her energy rifle’s casing, and slammed the thing down on the table . . . barrel pointed at Grel in a less than subtle threat.

A glint of wicked amusement gave the Pallor Lord a strange look just before he turned back around to keep working, “If you would like, I could make one for you too Grel.

An uneasy silence lingered for a few seconds as uncertainty entered their minds, well . . .except for Branish apparently.

You can make those? Why do you bother bein’ a captain then?” The burly lismian didn’t seem too worried about not getting enough zeni.

With his back turned, Osiris’ voice was soft, “Things are not always what they look like. Even when the most veteran inspector can be found ignorant when they do not understand the full breadth of possibilities. You see a gem of uncanny value, so did Barnack, so will Siberius, and so will whoever he gets to appraise it.

Grel frowned, “So what if it’s a fake? If no one can tell the difference, yeah, I want one. Hell of a lot easier money than raiding ships . . . don’t have to get shot in the leg.

Stop your whining, Grel. The captain is letting you use the tank tonight while you sleep. It will be healed by the morning,” Nellic had started working on the body armor damaged in the fire fight.

The tank doesn’t make it hurt any less now,” the casing on the energy pistol fell off as the final screw was pulled out by the magnetic screwdriver. Not for the first time Grel and his damaskian squad leader locked eyes in a challenge for superiority.

Whispering, the words slid into Grel’s ear like a sharp icicle, “That is the problem with you lismians; you don’t know your place in the world. Sooner or later, you will understand my word is law . . . and when you do, your little life of piracy will finally have meaning.

Zar’rock’s white blade slowly slid across the Star Wolf’s lap before stopping right next to the bandaged wound. Pulsing like a heartbeat, life ran from the hand guard to the tip with deep violet light running downwards in vein shaped streams. Then, the blade moved away.

Osiris stepped away from behind the blond haired alien. No one in the room having been able to follow his movement, it was as though he simply appeared there in an instant.

The reason you all follow me is simple: power and information. Combined, the four of you could not must half of the former, and not more than a fraction of the latter. If you would listen to me more, and stop hearing just the commands . . . maybe you could start to fathom the gaping differences between us. The only thing which makes you better than Siberius’ men, is my will.

In silence, the Pallor Lord slowly stalked back to his work along the rear wall.

No, I did not make a fake. It was not a gem of any kind. What lay upon Siberius’ desk, is an egg . . . or perhaps something more akin to a cocoon.

Branish looked away from Grel who was slowly unwrapping his bandages, “How did you make an egg that looks like that?”

Osiris was turned away again, this time reaching here and there to grab the pieces he hand been crafting before. Finally, he turned around holding a small box no larger than a standard bowl. He slid a small lid to the side and then retrieved something from a inner cloak pocket. It was small, and glowing alight with moving colors, and whispering small sounds from its egg shaped body.

As he slowly slid the strange oblong thing into its new holder. For a moment, it seemed the amount of effort put into crafting a simple box was pointless. With a thoughtful look upon his face, the lord placed his new trinket on the table’s center and pushed in one of the corners as you would a button.
The cube suddenly lifted into the air, and then each of its sides came alive with wondrous light. In a moment, a scaled room was being projected across the table until a three dimensional picture was rendered completely . . . even the walls which had been made transparent if one were looking into the room.

I wouldn’t say I exactly made the egg. It would be more accurate to say I provided the required materials, and then brought the craftsmen in from a rather remote location. Similarly, I would not say I made this projection cube either. I merely followed the instructions of our esteemed Dr. Franlin, and put together various parts already made available to me.

Dark violet eyes watched as Barnack walked into the projected room with a much smaller person walking in his shadow. Siberius, sitting at his desk next to the gem-egg, looked up from some paper work and greeted the new arrivals.

His voice was distant now as he watched and listened to the scene created by his little spy, “Sanguimpicus, a strange little imp with strange little habits . . . but how useful they can be in the right hands. Knowledge and power begets knowledge and power, if you don’t find yourself overwhelmed and ruined by them.

Branish’s eyes were wide as his somewhat slower mind found itself grasping at an unexpected understanding. Instead, it seemed Hansel was more disbelieving than anyone: “You summoned a demonspawn?

Nellic was whispering to herself, her damaskian heritge catching up to her not for the first time, “Truth be told, the damn Keliouxians do have magic . . .” Her voice trailed off as her attention suddenly locked onto a flash of movement.

Grel lurched out of his seat with a confused face and a protest in his voice, “Did you use some kind of foul demon magic to heal me!? I don’t want some disgusting witchery infecting me, you horned bastard.

Nellic’s face took on a mixture of anger and concern, but she couldn’t seem to find a voice to scold the unruly lismian this time.

With annoyance suddenly writing lines across his normally placid face, Osiris looked away from the hologram, “Speak to me in such a disobedient tone again, Grel.

The lismian’s look of indignation did not fade, but neither could he muster the nerve to speak.

Your leg was healed without alteration. The next time your captain gives you a gift, be grateful. I grow weary of you taking my generosity for granted. You have had nothing less than plenty since you joined my ship. If you dislike me so much, then leave. I am sure Siberius can find a job for you. I am equally sure I have treated you with more respect than I am required, and looked after your best interest more than you understand,” an almost fatherly tone of disapproval had attached itself to the demonic vessel’s words. “Go back to your quarters, and sleep. In the morning, you make your decision. Leave and take all your things with you, or stay and learn your place. Either way, you will not disobey me or question my methods again.

With a quick swipe, Osiris’ pale hand snatched up the floating device and turned it off. No one was sure what to say to their captain’s ultimatum, and so he left the armory in silence.

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Osiris
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The next morning came, and not for the first time Osiris rose from his sleep feeling odd. His body was well rested, but his mind seemed to linger at a distance from himself. It was like the thing slipped out of his body and tried to go somewhere else while he slept . . . then while he woke, it would not make it back in time, still floating out there in the nether trying to make its way back.

Even with that though, he could not recall the last time he slept so well. Since his return, he had slept easily. Such a task was not easily accomplished in the past. Yes, he felt empty and knew something was missing . . . but in his hollowness, there was quiet.

After a few minutes of meditation to bring his mind, body, and spirit back into an uncomfortable synchronization, the young lord strode forth from his chamber. There were plans afoot, and it gave his heart purpose to beat a bit faster with anticipation. Today was the second day of his invasion of Suicide Station, and his enemies were about to let him through the gate for a coin of poisoned lead.

With grim satisfaction, he marched down the shadowy corridor towards the increasing sounds of his crews’ voices. So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice the queer half words the familiar voices carried. He nearly walked right past the source a few steps before realizing the fact.

His head snapped to the side as his ears relocated the noise behind him. With a few back strides he was looking through the small porthole which looked into the ships training room, and the gravitron core system within.

Four people arranged in a tight knot faced one another. Their bodies moved with rigid tension, and sweat made their skin shimmer with the droplets of moisture. Striking, blocking, and shuffling their feet to keep perfect stances: they did everything in unison. It was somewhat impressive, though it would have been much more so if it weren’t such a rudimentary kata.

Have to start somewhere, Osiris thought to himself before he walked on.

A few minutes later he was sitting atop his ship overlooking the great expanse of Suicide Station’s main docking deck. As he sat down and hung his legs over the edge, the small bowl of mushroom and vegetable chowder he had been carrying from his quarters rested on his lap. For a little while at least, the Pallor Lord was not rushing to complete some task or mission.

A quiet breakfast as he waited for destiny to be delivered onto him. And it would be.

You rise early, for a brigand.” Barnack’s factual voice called up from the dock bay floor.

Setting aside the empty bowl and spoon, the demonic vessel looked down from his perch, “Brigand’s must always rise early, or they will not have the time to set up their ambushes.” The youth pretended as if he had not seen the keliouxing approaching the whole time, “It’s very nice to see, Barnack. I wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow. Siberius must have his own appraiser on hand to work so quickly.”

There was still suspicion in Barnack’s amber eyes, “Of course, this station does process a good chunk of the surrounding asteroid field brought in by the miners. Where is the rest of your crew? Off destroying more property?

Osiris lifted his head and looked back towards the sprawling collection of ships as though nothing special were happening, “No, they are inside training right now. Gaining attention is one thing, being reckless is another.

I think you are the most well spoke Wolf I have found yet. Must think you are someone real important, huh?” Barnack had a wicked little smile on his face as he lightly goaded the man above him.

The Pallor Lord wished the Keliouxian would just get to the point already, but he figured it would be better to let the man get to that point on his own. No sense to risk wounding someone’s pride when they are more useful put at ease. “We are only as big as our usefulness, and our usefulness is only as great as we make it. Surely a man in your position knows that.

You are mistaken. A man is only as useful as his superiors allow him to be. Speaking of which, why don’t you come with me. Siberius wants to discuss how useful you are going to become.” He turned away then, and started walking back the way he came. Obviously, he simply assumed Osiris would follow.

The Pallor Lord indulged him.

With little effort, the demonic vessel slipped down and landed on the white tiles thirty feet below. When his feet touched, he was already mid stride . . . the small fall barely anything to note. As the pair walked on in silence, Osiris keeping a step behind, his mind began to linger on Henex. The man would be an important piece in the coming events. Before the week was out, he would have to know if they were truly united as allies. The thought of having to find someone else on this sleevey station to trust was a repugnant task - - - but if Henex could not collected himself, it would be necessary.

After all, a lord needs a taxman.


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