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"Only two ways out, sir," Rakti reports, giving a vent cover a light kick. "Elevators or these two air vents... wait no, one air vent; other's sealed," she amends, bending over and squinting into the accessible vent. "Hmm, fan's still turning in this one." She makes her way back toward the others.
"Orders, sir?""....Rakti, I'd like you to take a survey of the immediate area and see how much of the ship we can gain access to from here. Double check against the schematics, make sure you're not missing any back doors. And keep your eyes open for anything out of the ordinary...." Glancing down the shaft at the Lieutenant, Rakti grunts, "Sir," and before he has even finished speaking to the others, begins to move off away from the group with strange bounding, clodding steps in the low gravity. Moving through the doorway past the two newcomers---sparing a sideways glance to be sure their hands remain where she can see them---she draws the ISPD datareader she'd been given earlier, bringing up the pertinent information and reviewing it briefly as she moves. Intending to follow the perimeter, and making no effort at all to avoid any gruesome bodies drifting about, she systematically inventories the various entrances and exits.
"There's still a round in that gun," Rakti grates out flatly, liquid gold eyes narrowing at the weapon holstered on the human's waist. It sounds as though the few words she's uttered are about all her vocal cords can take. "And his knife, sir?" she adds, with a glance at the Lieutenant.
Only after the two newcomers have disarmed themselves does Rakti slide her grenade safely away into her suit. As the Lieutenant provides identification, she steps forward with a few clodding steps and scrutinizes the human and gnome from just behind Bharek's shoulder, looking for signs of other weapons hidden on their persons.
"Elan, away from that door!" Rakti hissed, crossing with one massive, thudding step toward the shadow between the open doorway and the wall of the shaft, where she could see the doorway but could not be seen. Clutching a fistful of metal in her hand, her gaze sought Lieutenant Jorgenson and she raised one questioning eyebrow, showing him the grenade and awaiting orders.
Eyes narrowed in the darkness into two caramel slits, Rakti took a few steps away from the group, looking for signs of lurking chemical clouds or other manmade demons. "Clear," she confirmed over the intercom in a low, calm voice. "Atmosphere?"
Rakti felt strangely nude in the form fitting vac-suit, but the sensation was not particularly uncomfortable. In fact, she found she rather enjoyed it; the close fitting clothing allowed for a much freer range of motion than the desert-bred modesty to which she was accustomed. She stretched experimentally, then patted the fabric over her elbow and thigh. Nodding with satisfaction, she gripped the inside of the opening into the elevator shaft with her right hand and swung her right leg out the door to the side and back. Feeling the sole of her grav-boot connect solidly with the inner wall of the shaft, she paused for a moment to flex, bend and lift her leg, confirming that she was not about to plunge straight down to her death or float away. Then she lurched the rest of her body forward so that her other boot connected with the wall as well, and looked over her shoulder back at the others from her oddly arachnidial vantage point.
Any last-minute purchases of gear or supplies should be done now. Mid-day on Tuesday, I'm going to advance us to the Kirinth system and get this boulder pushed down the hill at last.
"I've no needs, Sir," Rakti asserted the Lieutenant with a look of neither pride or apathy, but something in-between. She glanced at Elan with a quirk of her cracked lips; a smile perhaps, but also maybe a grimace of distaste. "Definitely not 'creature comforts'."
After aiming a businesslike naté the dwarf’s way, Rakti cleared her throat sharply, already beginning to feel hoarse from so much unaccustomed speaking in so short a time. "My respite and renewal lie in the art of consecrated work, Lieutenant," she grated in a bizarrely clashing tone of equanimity, and left it at that.
Her hawkish eyes softening somewhat at the appearance of another elf and warrior, Rakti's weather-beaten lips twitch in a small, stiff smile. Fixing the other woman with a gaze which unfortunately seems more assessing than welcoming, she raises an eyebrow and flicks a calloused finger toward the chair next to her, inviting the newcomer to join the others at the table.
The elf's voice, when she spoke, was surprisingly soft and rough, like a piece of old boiled leather stretched too thin and hung far too long in the sun to dry. Two times she cleared her throat, before she finally attempted speech. When spoke the words dropped like stones from her lips. "Raktiada Nadhu," she said with a curt nod to the assembled. This time she swallowed instead of clearing her throat and the next words poured somewhat more easily from her mouth. "Of Sythura Octi."
A compact, tough-looking elven woman fixed the assembled with a measuring yet serene gaze. Her clothing was clearely selected for austere functionality; the drab charcoal gray pants and wrap-around tunic were severely secured close to her body by straps winding up her calves and a sash cinched tight about her torso and buckled at her lower back. The tunic’s sleeves were detachable so as to effectively deal with warm or cool weather, and the fabric of the sash and the thighs of the pants featured various zippered and buttoned pockets---some with light magnetic flaps for quick access---in which she could store a variety of yet-unseen objects. She appeared simultaneously feminine and sharp, like a small dark ant emerging from the desert sands. Facing the half-dragon Captain, the monk’s slender, sun-browned body described a bow which looked as though it should have been awkward, yet was executed with a practiced fluidity. Reinforced boots crossed at the ankles, the fierce-looking woman bent at a strict forty-five degree angle at the waist, her arms folded over her chest and crossed at the mithril-laced cloth bracers on her wrists. Her head did not bow with the rest of her, however, but instead stayed raised so that her eyes remained level with the Captain’s own, fixing him with a fearless gaze of liquid gold from beneath curly black, severely cut hair. Having paid the respect due from one warrior to another, and a superior at that, she straightened, and then turned to the rest of the escort. There were warriors there too, and non-warriors as well, but Rakti was a reasonable woman; rather than waste time sketching the naté and the simpler nat to each of them in turn as befitted their individual warrior and non-warrior statuses, she simply gave them all the benefit of the doubt. Surely even the non-warriors would fight bravely---even if ineffectively---in battle if the situation forced their hand? Yes, they too deserved the naté until their actions on the field proved otherwise. Her body traced the naté faster this time, and the bow was not as low or as precise as it had been before, but she still intoned the ritual words in her head, “I respect the Warrior within you.” Obeisance paid, greetings made, and without ever once uttering a single word to the assembled, she turned and approached the table. Flicking the end of her sand-colored, crimson-rune dotted cloak out of her way with a business-like efficiency, she took her seat.
Oh, just in case you didn't know. My character is a Tech-Priest of the Smith. He's weapons. He's warhammers. He's Spells. He's Lawful Neutral. HE IS RELIGIOUS BEEFCAKE Hehe, we're both LN and religious. Rakti's dedicated to the Warrior.
Oh yeah, this is my monkish avatar, for those who have yet to see and recognize, yo.
Okay. Character history is posted to livejournal. Take a look and gimme your comments. I think I managed to basically smoosh your ideas and my ideas into one cohesive whole, but we'll see. I may need some help meshing things a little more cleanly, since I really am not too familiar with the setting. For example, you'll notice I deliberately left out planet/city names, and for good reason: I don't know any. A quick question: Do we get a free regional language? Seems like unless languages are INCREDIBLY standardized, different planets are going to---at the very least---have different languages, if not multiple regional-languages within one planet.
Okay. Now just to clarify/write out backstory. And I wish this avatar had existed when I was trying to find something for Riann. Oh well. *sigh* |
