The psychedelic vista of the Drift flows past the transparent aluminum view ports on your transport. The six of you have spent ten days in the Drift, hauling a cargo bay full of mundane supplies to a colony in the Vast named in a not-at-all egocentric fashion, 'Madelon's Landing,' on the planet referred to in the archives as Nakondis. Your current employer is Madelon Kesi of AbadarCorp. Your expected pay is 4,000 credits--split six ways--for this milk run, although no travel through the Drift for this long should really be dismissed with such triviality. So far, you have been fortunate enough to have not encountered any moon-sized dragons or reality-bending storms.
The drift engine's read out estimates another five days before reaching your destination. Once there, you'll unload your cargo, collected your pay, and spend a little time visiting with an old friend who happened to have retired out to the Vast in the very colony to which you're headed.
Diameter: x 1
Mass: x 1
Gravity: x 1
Location: The Vast
Atmosphere: Normal
Summary: A mist-shrouded forest world deep in the Vast useful for the production of timber. Fertile and habitable, as several native trees produce edible fruit and test crops grew quickly.
Notable Meteorological Phenomenon: Pervasive mist carry a mild electrical charge that, when pooled into a dense fog in low-lying sumps or whipped about by the occasional storms, can reach lethal levels.
Antenor spends most of his time in easy small talk with the others. He's clearly got a head for details even if he doesn't always follow the technical aspects of the conversation. When he's not talking, he's practicing; spinning a cred stick in his hands, acrobatics in the cargo bay, and occasionally playing piloting vidgames.
The sound of small pointy pieces of metal click and clack throughout hull of the ship. What begins on the floor soon moves to the wall, and finally along the ceiling. click....click. click...click. click click.....click.
As Antenor spins his red credstick in his hands he feels the presence of someone watching him but yet noone is around. Looking up he comes face to face with a pointy-toothed goblin with nearly 4 dozen jagged teeth in his wide mouth. Steve pilots and rides along in a small mechanical construct that could only resemble a spider's body with nearly a dozen small metallic legs, six on each side to be exact. resting in the center is a small saddle with a belt as well as a miniature control console as his small goblin hands move to gauge to control.
He smiles downward at Antenor, mischievously as the spider mount clings tightly to the ceiling. "I'm bored..." These small words alone brought pure dread to rest of the crew as a bored Steve, rather a bored Goblin was a dangerous thing as he usually went tinkering on anything that already worked, breaking it.
While Steve is threatening the ship and it's inhabitants with horrifying death, Shade is taking his turn on the dinner rotation, preparing a simple salad with nuts and cheese.
Hopefully the ship is still here when he's done making the salad...
Lors mostly stays quiet unless coaxed into conversation, but that doesn't mean she's still.
Her fingers are never really at rest, whether fanatically disassembling, cleaning, and reassembling her gear, quickly tabbing through the latest updates on the bounty-boards (public and private), or when the other tasks are done, weaving.
Her eyes, however, never strayed from her new colleagues for long, and when Steve's words rang out, a mote of alarm flickered in the blacks of her eyes.
"Perhaps a game of chance? Or a story?"
Antenor doesn't seem to mind the goblin's presence. It's likely on account of being accustomed to a little insanity in his line of work. "Games and change and stories are two of my three favorite things."
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Having overheard the others, the one known as Rril looks up from his drink. Turning to the shobhad, he asks, "Considering a game with Antenor, are you now Lors?"
The well-dressed man takes a long sip of his drink, then adds with a wink and a sly smile, "Just make sure that it isn't YOU that's actually getting played."
Steve's mounting drone, skitters down the wall, carrying him inside the middle of it, like some sort of mobile wheelchair. "Game of chance?" He asks curiously. "How do you play?" A small panel opens on the front of his drone as a pistol emerges, flickering flames from the barrel. Small tendrils lick the floor as the petrol drips. "Can we burn it?" He taps the drone. "Oonopidae can burn it!"
Several ports on the ceiling open, preemptively exposing the ship's fire suppression system. The ship's AI speaks over the loudspeakers.
>>Chief Engineer Srygzink: How many times have we reminded you of the potential consequences of open flames in pressurized chambers with super-atmospheric levels of oxygen to organic life forms, yourself included?<<
The flame pistol on Oonopidae shutters back into the panel on the drone as Steve frowns. "You never were fun."
"No! No it is not for burning. It's a game of fortune and precision. One moment."
Lors returns to her quarters for a moment and brings out a deep bowl and a series of oddly planed and carved fruit-stones.
"The game is simple: We take it in turns to throw these dice using the bowl. If they do not turn, the throw is void. Any dice that land outside the bowl are void as well."
With a wary look she asks, "Does that sound... interesting?"
"Sounds like my kind of game. Not that I'm adverse to a little pyrotechnic fun, I'd just prefer to keep that on someone else's ship."
As the ship's AI announces over the loudspeakers that Steve is about to potentially blow themselves all up, Shade looks down at the salad he was preparing, and wonders to himself why he was serving something that would just make himself look more palatable.
He throws the salad away and instead begins grilling a few choice slabs of meat, putting some of the Vesk he still had on before doing so.
In short order, the smell of grilling meat fills the ship. The air recyclers can only do so much after all.
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"Sounds like my kind of game. Not that I'm adverse to a little pyrotechnic fun, I'd just prefer to keep that on someone else's ship."
Rril smiles. "Why not?" he says as he takes a seat.
In short order, the smell of grilling meat fills the ship. The air recyclers can only do so much after all.
With a sniff of his mustached nose, Rril glances over at Steve. "Does my nose deceive me? Or have some pyrotechnics already begun?"
Antenor winks and his smile is crooked.
Steve grabs ahold of one of the fruit stones and begins chewing on it before spitting the slobbered stone back onto the table. "Bah, not taste like fruit." He scrunches his face. "But, I'll play game."
Lors gives a very blank look as Steve starts slobbering all over her handcarved dice. "Steve, I promise that if I give you something that is meant for you to eat, I will tell you." She recollects the bowl and dice with one pair of hands, quickly retrieving a clean cloth to wipe up the offended die with her others.
Lors gives the bowl a mighty shake, perhaps too mighty as a few of the dice end up scattering on the floor. "Kist. A dreadful throw. Steve?"
Steve chases after the dice as he sees how the game is played. Scooping them up in the cup himself he ends up flinging them in the air as they scatter all over the room.
A cunning glint enters Lors's eyes. "I could do with fewer shifts of dinner dishes. That sound interesting enough?"
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Rril flashes a smile, attempting not to appear too eager. He reaches into his pocket and produces a couple of cred sticks and a pair of silvery rings, one of which contains a small ruby. "I... picked up a few baubles while at our last stop in port. I don't suppose the rest of you have something you'd be willing to wager?"
As the game carries on, Shade appears from the galley carrying several dishes in their stubby arms, and a few more floating along behind them with a bit of magic keeping the dishes aloft.
"Alright folks dinner is served. Roast rytvik from Vesk-8, not exactly gourmet but I hope it'll do."
It's no delicate fillet, that much is certain. A large slab of medium-cooked red meat occupies most of each of the plates, with a small side of roasted root vegetables to go with it.
"I'm used to cooking for Vesk but hopefully this will do," they say just a little nervously, and they waits a few moments before adding: "Pretty sure I got all the toxin sacs out."
You're not entirely sure if Shade is kidding or not.
The days in the drift continue in excruciating boredom or blissful peace for the crew of the Hunter's Bounty, depending upon the individual's previous experience with the dangers of the drift. The crew wile away the time gambling (and trying to 'improve' the ship). By the time the Hunter's Bounty notifies you that you are nearing your exit from the drift, the ship may or may not have changed ownership among the crew several times.
Drift exit imminent: approaching Nakondis, the ship informs you.
The kaleidoscopic blur of the drift suddenly gives way to the vast sea of darkness that is space. Not far away, you see the blue and green sphere of Nakondis.
Shortly after turning your navigation toward the planet, the ship alerts you, Two unidentified orbital craft on intercept course.
You find yourselves flanked by a strange ship approaching from each direction.
Starship Combat Begin
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Rril looks at the viewport on approach to the planet. "Looks like we've got company." he says as he looks at the approaching ships.
"Can't say that I have any idea who our welcoming party is..." the scoundrel remarks, "but, in the circles that I usually find myself within, an offer of an escort is usual a precursor to detention. I wouldn't expect them ultimately to be pleasant."
The human lets out a sigh, then cautions his allies, "Whoever they are, don't let 'em scuff up my ship."
Steve's sensors on Oonopidae begin to form a readout as he skitters to his station, though really they are all his stations as this is his ship after all. "Unmanned Drones!" His eyes glimmer with hope and tearing into the drone's. "Dibs! I call dibs!" He says excitedly.
Using the controls on Oonopidae Steve tears open a panel from the ship and flings it away where the dented metallic panel bangs against the other side of the ship. Leaping out from his drone and seat he scrambles inside the ship's hull and dusty wiring.
Steve does something in all the wiring as more power diverts into the weapons causing them to hum and vibrate slightly.
"Well ain't that a grand welcome! Hold on to your butts!"
One of the drones zips closer and begins to power a forward weapon.
Antenor tries to fly evasively, but his nerves get the better of him! "Dammit! I don't want them to be flanking us. Blow that drone!"
Lors waits quietly as Antenor has his meltdown. "Antenor. Just stay calm."
"No drone's gonna beat us."
The reassurance, followed by the calm blast works. Antenor adjusts in his seat and regains his focus.
As the Hunter's Bounty turns to bear on the drone to its starboard, the tiny vessel zips around with greater speed and agility, hiding itself once more on the freighter's starboard and escaping Lor's forward weapon.
The two drones fire from forward lasers as Rrill brings the turret around and fires the linked laser cannons. The distant drone's shot misses, but the drone fires through the starboard shields and scratches the paint job on the hull. The turret seems to have an extra kick to it due to Steve's tinkering (Rrill will likely blame that for the missed shot).
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"My ship!" Rril cries as the Hunter's Bounty is struck.
When both of his shot go awry, he then cries, "Steve! What have you done to the 'Dream?"
Looking over the power readouts of the firing mechanisms of the vessel that he alone calls "Sydevenik's Dream", he mutters to himself, "I swear that goblin's 'modifications' have done more damage to the inside of this ship than any drone could ever do to the outside."
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One member of the crew has spent the last ten days in a fairly distracted state of mind. Though he has made small-talk with the crew, Haro Phane has seemed more interested in examining the ship, sleeping, and most importantly, making videos.
As the incoming drones threaten the ship, he becomes excited. Pressing a button on his forearm datapad console, the electronic device begins recording him.
"Welcome back to brand Bounty Royale video guys! My name is Haro Phane, aka Deathstroke, and TODAY, we're going to be hopping into an exciting encounter with some enemy ships!!!"
Though he watches the incoming ships on his display, he seems more interested in his facial expressions and hand gestures.
"I've told you about my new ship, which I won in the bounty hunting competition that made me a household name! I've told you about the crew I've hired to help me pilot this beast! I've told you about the goblin that came with the ship! All of this is completely real...I know it sounds fake, but this is 100% legit! I've assembled what I call a 'team of rivals.' There will be some insubordination...some inter-group conflict. I demanded that of any crew of a ship I'm going to command. Now let's see what this beast can DOOOOO!!!"
He opens up his comm unit and broadcasts to the ship.
"Crew, this is your captain speaking. Blast those ships from the sky!"
Steve hunts down the humming sound and finds a loose wire. Licking his lips he leaps at the dangling wire within the walls like a cat, successfully pouncing on it, grasping a small bundle in his teeth as he shorts through them.
"GWWWWAAHH!" He screams as he is tossed in the compartment, denting in a small thin metal plate near Haro's feet. The smell of a small electrical fire can be smelled throughout.
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Haro turns his arm so that his forearm camera picks up Steve on the floor.
"There he is! I'm not sure yet if he's fixing things or starting fires, but look at him go!" Haro says as he turns the camera back on himself.
"I'll put up a poll later to see what his nickname should be. I know someone had already voted for 'Gobbie McGobface,' but I think here we've been calling him 'Steve,' which is pretty funny, too."
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As Haro begins to speak over the intercom system, Rril tunes him out, assuming that the diva is simply addressing a never seen audience rather than the crew present around him.
Annoyed that the drone would have the audacity to scratch up his present ship--especially without any apparent provocation (other than possibly the make-up of the crew), the scoundrel attempts to put as much laser fire in the direction of the drone as possible.
"STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE!"
Irked by Rril's spendthrift manner of fire, and more so by his inaccuracy, Lors chastises him, "Rril! If they escape the arc of the Hunter's Maw, just free up one of the turret guns for me."
Haro pans around the helm. "You'll see that each of my men are the best at what they do. They're a little headstrong, sure. But that's what I insisted on..." he continues.
"Men, woman, and plant."
Antenor attempts some fancy flying in order to place the drones in the most offensively advantageous position. He hits the boosters and then flips the Hunter's Bounty, leaving your forward guns facing the two drones as the pair zip after you. Meanwhile, Steve restores the starboard shields by diverting some of the power from the kitchen.
Rril fires the linked lasers on the turret , but they're off-target. The drones fire back but somehow manage to miss.
Lors listens to Haro's tone rather than his specific instructions. All her hunter's instincts tell her to finish off the wounded prey instead.