@_animus_: I'm not, but if I was I'd say it worked. So good you had to follow me twice?
Eeogiex, Intergalactic Trade Metropolis [Living Location]
@arquitenens: I didn't know I followed you the first time, tbh :P
@arquitenens: Cross that and reverse it.
@_animus_: That's not what the record shows.
Smug as a pregnant woman.
@the_shogun@shogun_of_sarcasm (WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!)
Raeyn sat quietly in one of the cavernous banks of the Infinite Market Place. The marble floored halls echoed with footsteps as bank customers moved to and fro about their business. Few paid attention to the cloaked woman sitting quietly on a bench near the entrance. Her eyes scanned the cathedral ceiling of the main lobby constantly as she counted the minutes before her next object was returned to her. She lightly caressed the lock box in her lap she had recovered from the Flesh Fair. Count two four. Count two five. Count two six. The count went on, every passing second ticked away by a being capable of seeing the flow of time.
Her mental counting was almost soothing and rhythmic and it kept her mind focused...an important task given what was being retrieved. It had been so long since she had locked this item away and much had changed in that time. It was conceivable that a Temporal Hunter had come across her plan and placed traps along the way. She knew precisely how long it took to go from the lobby to the vault, open the vault, walk to the lock box, remove it and walk back. If the tempo was off even by an attosecond it would hint that something might be wrong.
"Mam." Someone said and her eyes shifted to the male security guard now standing in front of her. "The teller made a mistake in not asking your name. We require identification for all of our customers when they retrieve something as valuable as the object you are retrieving."
The mental count continued as her eyes narrowed. "I was told this place valued anonymity."
"I am afraid policy requires a identification. We need to be certain you are authorized to retrieve this item." He insisted.
The Time Siphon raised an eye brow. "Very well." She said. "I am Raeyn."
"Ma'am, we require all titles and other forms of identification, a single name is not enough." He said.
Raeyn slowly stood to her feet and the security guard found himself stepping back, suddenly wondering what he had gotten himself into.
"I am Raeyn, First Eternal of the Infinite Council, Second Seer of the Temporal Conclave, Elder Siphon of the Circle of Nine..." She began. Her voice carried with intent, she wanted people to hear, it was time the Universe trembled again. All activity in the lobby ceased as people listened. Some were processing the information or even looking it up on their electronic devices. Others literally dropped what they were doing with wide eyes. "Lord of Cocytus, Master of the Temporal Conflux, Guardian of the Key of Time..." As she continued Raeyn took a step forward and the guard backed up..."Infinite Mistress of the Thousand Worlds of Rytorus, Slave Master of the Kortarians, Heir Designate of the Caldean Vortex. I am the oldest Time Siphon, the first Time Siphon. On my word empires have risen or burned, at my whim galaxies have perished and a million suns have gone dark. With my will I have shaped my people and crushed the weakness in our core. With my intellect I have guided us from the darkness of Tyranny into the light of Absolute Chaos."
The guard trembled as the words crashed on his mind like a tsunami, bashing at the walls of order and threatening to overwhelm the law he thought he lived in. Still Raeyn continued..."I have died a thousand times one thousand, I slaughtered whole fleets of Temporal Hunters and plunged whole races into darkness. My name is Raeyn and my word is law." The Guard went pale.
"KNEEL!" She shouted. The guard...and everyone else in the lobby, dropped to one knee. It was a rush to see such behavior, she had been running and weak for so very long now. A single immortal had given her so much back. She now remembered enough...just enough, to know what needed to be done next. She also remembered her place, her power and what was owed to her. Raeyn was running no longer. It was time to fight and sniveling little guards were no longer going to get in her way.
At last, at the perfect time, the teller returned with a lock box. She looked around in awe and handed the box over. "Thank you." Raeyn said simply. The stunned woman nodded. "It was a pleasure doing business with you." Raeyn added and walked from the building without further comment. Only one more piece on this planet to retrieve.
I'm back.
@timesiphon: (I'm killing people indirectly =D)
@alpha_dog: Thanks, I'll just pm her main and hope she sees it lol
@nymphixia: I wanted to talk to you about some partnerships. Involving Eeogiex and The Omega System Alliance.
@nymphixia: Well I have this galactic event going on soon, and I plan on pretty much destroying most of the races within the system. I'd like to get with you after the event to rebuild. Make something better more expansive. I'm talking worlds, cultures and species.
@nymphixia: really? Awesome. The event is called the cataclysm. It's going to take in space and on earth. We can talk more immediately following it.
@nymphixia: Awesome lol
On a lot of planets, there was always that slow time. That time when most of the native inhabitants slept, and even the off-worlders retreated to their ships or their hostels, putting both business and pleasure on hold and taking some oft-needed rest. Eeogiex had no such period, as far as Daltar could tell; business and pleasure alike when on constantly here, the buzz of both legit and illicit deals and practices both common and exotic became a sort of constant white noise to any who stayed here long enough. This wasn't the smuggler's first visit to the trade metropolis, and he was no stranger to the constant bustle of activity.
Daltar, however, had managed to find himself a bit of relative solitude and quiet. The cantina was not one frequented by locals or spacers; it was generally only patronized by those so fed up with the universe in general that they just wanted some space to drink their grievances away in peace. The sour expression on his face, the lovingly maintained plasma pistol in the weathered holster at his hip, and the fact that he had been nursing a bottle of Ciladrian fungoid malt by himself for the past hour had all helped, as well.
Furrowing his brow against the sudden lurching of his own perspective and the beginnings of what he knew would develop into a very unpleasant morning tomorrow, he poured himself another serving of the potent brew, his slightly glazed eyes staring at the bubbling liquid as it settled in his glass. This was the point he always hated; not the spinning room, not the roiling stomach, not waking up in a refuse bin in some alley feeling like he'd entered a head-butting contest with a Grizzlon, but the point where the memories seemed suddenly clearer than his physical surroundings. Everything around him seemed to trigger a memory. The glint of the cantina lights in his drink became the sparkle in her eyes, the song playing on the holobox suddenly sounded exactly like her laughter. He pounded the drink back, trying to wash her ghost from his mind.
You should've come with me, he thought, knowing she never would. I would have come back for you, he thought, knowing he never did. He tried to console himself with the thought that it wasn't his fault; how could he have known, after all? No one else had known. The people whose job it was to prevent things like that from happening had been caught completely off-guard. It didn't help, though. It never did. She was gone, and he wasn't. The universe had a sick sense of humor, and it looked like, as always, Daltar got to be the punchline.
Pushing himself unsteadily to his feet, he nodded in the vague direction of the barkeep. He got a nod and a casual wave in return; he was as close to what passed for a regular here, and the computer had one of his many credit account numbers. Taking a moment to regain what balance he could, he headed for the door and his ship. Sometimes you just couldn't escape the familiar, even on an alien world.
@cosmosis: I love the way you write him.
@the_shogun: Thank you! It seems to work best at the end of a long day. ^_^
Zornun rose from the counter of his Flesh Fair weapons shops. A customer had arrived. His face was covered by the shadows of his hood.
"I'm looking to buy some weapons," he snarled "Lot's of weapons."
Good...he seems rich. He is definitely not your average pickpocket. No, his plans will be much more...ambitious.
"How many are you talking about?" Zornun asked "10,000 credits worth? 20,000?"
"Enough to bring down a Star-class Cruiser." What? Cruisers are some of the most well protected ships in the world! This guy is either insane or a genius.
"Actually, I have a list of what I want." the customer said, brandishing a crumpled piece of parchment. As Zornun read it, his eyes widened. "10 photon grenades, 3 tactical-grade rifles..." this is enough to bring down an army, let alone a Cruiser.
"I reckon this will cost around 700,000 credits." Zornun said, once he had finished.
"I can't pay that much. Half a million is the most."the hooded man replied.
So he's not THAT rich.
"How about 600k, and I'll add in a few EMP cannons?" the Ungral Merchant negotiated.
"Fine, that seems like a good deal!"
After packing the weapons into a nano-case(a case that uses wormholes and nanotech to become bigger on the inside), the hooded man left Zornun with 600,000 credits.
Several Hours Later
Three Police Troops burst into Zornun's shop and stood in a line facing the counter.
The one in the middle spoke. "Sir, your last customer was a wanted criminal. Give us his details now, and your sentence will be short!"
Strange, troops don't normally come into the Flesh Fair...That guy must have been some master criminal. Still, I never give away my customer's identities.
Before any of them could move, Zornun grabbed his fusion gun from under the counter and shot the soldier who had spoken, melting his brains instantly. Next, he vaulted over the counter and knocked the remaining two's heads together, temporarily dazing them. He finished by 2 more head shots with the fusion gun.
As Zornun left the shop, he stepped over what was left of the troops: three headless bodies, with steam rising from their necks.
As Zorrun dragged the bodies away, Trickshot stepped up tot he counter. "Yo, Crocky, I want something small. Not too much firepower, so long as it can pump out death faster than this." Trickshot laid an Uzi on the table. Trickshot scratched his face as he pulled up a chair and put his feet up on the counter, despite Zorrun's snarls. "Money isn't an issue."
(Sorry if it's short, we can get longer posts going after we start interacting a bit more, getting a feel for each other's characters. Conversations tend to contain short posts anyway.)
I opened the door and saw the beast and got frightened but didn't show his fear " hey...can you fix this for me" i take off a hand cannon , handed the wrist mounted gun and handed it to him " i got cash don't worry" I sat and started waiting i turned to the man in the suit next to me "hey what you getting here"
@gumflabica Zornun turned around and picked up the Uzi, before turning it around in his hands and examining it. "This is good...for Earth weapons. How about this?" He said, whilst reaching for a box behind the counter and retrieving a small automatic rifle. "This thing is the finest you can get around here. Uses kryptonite mechanisms to shoot fast. With this, you can tear your enemies apart. That is, if you're willing to pay the 20,000 credit price tag."
@sodiummastermind: "Got anything a bit... Smaller?" Trickshot gestured towards his skin-tight suit and lack of pockets. "Maybe a little somethin' I can fit here." Trickshot produced a holster, and layed it on the table for Zorrun to inspect. "Unless you've got a fancier one that can hold somethin' you've got for sale. Like I said, money ain't an issue, I just picked up a bounty at this station, thought I'd stop by for some new toys."
"Heh, where's the fun in that?" Trickshot lowered his legs, and leaned forward, looking Zorrun in his reptilian eyes. "Small, fast, and lethal. Best ya got." Trickshot tapped his finger on the table with every word, chewing a toothpick. His eyes brightened, and he removed it from his mouth. He held it infront of his face. "I used a toothpick just like this to kill a man yesterday. From the street, through his 3rd floor window, off the ceiling fan, and into his head. I want a little something that can contend. I'm a man of sport, see? I'm not called Trickshot for nothing." Trickshot leaned back once more, tossing his toothpick into the air and catching it with his teeth. "No lasers either, I like me some ricochets."
"Bigger is always better when it comes to weapons, but if you insist..." Zornun growled "Take this one." He held out a small pistol with a strange device on the end. "This is an Electro-Magnetic Scrambler. Point it at somethin' and it will send an EM signal. Shoot at a machine, it will break. Point it at something with a brain, it will scramble the brain's signals, knocking them out and giving them a real bad headache."
by
@gumflabica Zornun's eyes narrowed to slits. "You're a typical Human. You don't care about getting the job done cleanly or efficiently, you just want to have blood, lots of it. Well, if that's the case, then the only thing I've got for you is this." He pulled out a strange, alien-looking weapon about the same size as the Uzi. "This is an Ungral make, made by the stupid oafs that are my species, It churns out bullets faster than you can count and makes a lot of noise and a lot of blood. If you walk into a room full of people with this, in less than a minute it will be a room full of bodies. If you like it, I have to say that you're choice in guns is terrible."
"Yeah? Well screw you guys and your flying crap heap." Lunnara yelled as she was escorted off the ship rudely. She knew she was making a scene, and she didn't care. The ship captain was well justified in kicking her off his ship. In fact, as a stowaway he (she?) could have expelled Lunnara into space and got away with it. So it was just lucky they had been near a decent port planet. She would be able to hitch a ride, or barter her way off this planet with relative ease. She had thumbed her way across half the solar system, so this was a very small imposition.
Turning to face the aliens kicking her off their ship, she offered the one finger salute with both hands, the fingerless black gloves adding to the effect. "Et komsslyl impidefdtkt." She swore in an alien language that required a second tongue, and no teeth to pronounce properly, already tired of this planet.
"I need a drink, and a ride, in that order. Staying in one place too long gives me a rash." She stepped in the path of some fat alien creature trying to ooze past her. "Yo Jabba the fat arse, where's the red light district?" The creature looked annoyed and confused at her. "Oolehh, salaventae?" She tried the common, or gutter speak. Now the creature looked disgusted as well as annoyed. It pointed one pudgy appendage towards something that looked like a watering hole. Funny how similar they looked from planet to planet.
@lunnara_rose: Stumbling from the cantina, Daltar all but blundered into Lunnara as she so amicably chatted with one of the locals. "Whoa!" he only slightly slurred, lurching to the side as his mildly numbed hand reflexively shot to his holster. Blearly, bloodshot eyes took in the pair. The slug-like being was almost immediately dismissed; he couldn't think of the species, at the moment, but they were cheats and dirty-dealers, not much of a threat in a brawl. The other one, though...
"Qae...is that...?"
Even as he stammered the words, however, his addled mind slapped him across the face with the realization that it wasn't. Height and build were just about right, and the hair was close, if a shade too light, but it wasn't her. Of course it wasn't her. She no longer existed, not in any physical sense. "Geez, clear the road already, you two. Why're you standin' where you know I'll be walkin'?"
"Say it, don't slur it Tex." She took a step back waving one hand at her face dramatically. After being holed up for three days in the underbelly of a transport ship, she wasn't the freshest smelling daisy herself. Her eye followed his hand to the gun, a serviceable piece of equipment, if not well used. She wasn't worried about it though. This fellow looked too drunk to hit his boots if he pissed down his leg.
"Don't go skinning that there hog leg slick." She said in a decent American accent. At least how American's sounded last time she was on Earth, that dead-end street. Being on Earth was like being imprisoned, giver the scarcity of travel through there. Nothing but grays (the rednecks of the galaxy) turning cows inside out, and buzzing military bases. He looked American to her. But then again he might not even be human. He could be a shape shifter or a robot, or God could only imagine what. She had heard about Eeogiex before. It was a space prostitute that welcomed all comers. So it was a little odd she had never passed this way before. At least not that she remembered.
Daltar stood, blinking uncertainly. "Don't go skinning a wha, now?" She was speaking the language of the locals, but that was the oddest dialect he'd ever encountered. Not Delossian (not that he was ever likely to encounter anyone speaking Delossian, unless he decided to start talking to himself), not Ephemeren...what else looked like...human? Was she from Earth? It wasn't unheard of; a number of humans had left their home planet, in various states of willingness.
"Are you an...Earthling?"
"Yeah, I'm from that backwoods part of the universe." She eyed him differently now. Maybe this guy knew something about something. It would do no good to start asking questions out here as various lifeforms bustled past them. Being too curious in certain places got you killed in your sleep. "Well it was nice--- whatever, but I need to find a lonely creep so I can bugger off this planet." She started to step around him, adjusting the straps on her back pack
So she actually was a human, then. Idly, Daltar wondered how she'd gotten out here; while humans weren't unheard of on this planet, they were usually being sold in the flesh markets. As a species that hadn't really developed interstellar travel, they tended to be very out-of-their-element on any planet but their own.
"Heh," he half-chuckled, half-hiccuped, as he turned to follow her as she headed in the direction of the cantina he'd just left, "you'll find plenty of lonely creeps in there. Probably a few who can get you off-world, too." He wasn't sure why he seemed to be trying to warn her; maybe the drinking had made him soft, maybe it was because of who she reminded him of, maybe, deep down, he was really a decent guy...okay, so maybe it was the first two. "So as long as you don't care about making it to the next world alive, you're heading to the right place."
"Oh yeah?" She replied without looking around. "Gee, I never knew the universe had cut throats, and rapists, and practitioners of general villainy. This is truly news for me, yo. I suppose I should lie down in the streets and wait for sweet death to take me. Oh why didn't I stay in the kitchen were us women folk belong." This guy was really playing up the the helpful rogue bit. Clearly he was the right guy to talk to. One of those sleazy types that dispense directions or whatever for a drink or two.
"Suppose though that I'm not ready to explore beyond this mortal coil, what of that to you Tex?" She found a table that seemed the least likely to spawn an anti-biotic resistant staph infection, and sat down. Despite herself she thought he might be the interesting sort.
"You know," Daltar responded dryly as he dropped uninvited into the seat opposite her, "saying that you know what Zanadrian hellwasps are doesn't make you look any smarter as you stick your hand into a nest of them." He motioned to the barkeep, and after a moment of digesting his confusion over seeing Daltar reenter mere moments after leaving, headed their way with a pair of glasses.
"And it is absolutely nothing to me," he continued, mentally jettisoning his screaming conscience out of an airlock for what was not the first time. "Aside from the fact that, unlike most of the folks in here, I'm actually trying to make a legitimate living, and having the reputation of murdering clients and dumping their bodies on asteroids is not a sound business practice."
@cosmosis: [I forgot part of my log in name. #LikeAN00b]
"You believe I can't handle myself? I been in some situations myself you know. But its just as good. I'm not in the mood for drama anyway." She raised her glass and grimst at the vile, but undeniably intoxicating brew. "I can see how that would deter business. You just don't look like a taxi driver to me Tex. So what is it? Space pirate? Smuggler? Bounty hunter?" She made a gun with one hand, and griped her wrist with the other. She pointed her finger at Daltar and made pew pew sounds.
"I got no idea how you can handle anything," he replied, tossing back his glass and making a slightly sour face at the aftertaste. That was always the worst part, and that went for when it came back up, too. "But it seemed to me you needed a ship. I've been called all those things, and plenty more, and what you want to call me depends on what you're willing to pay."
Any amusement she had taken from the conversation dried up. He was just as she had sized him up. That was okay. She wasn't hoping for more then that anyway. "Enough foreplay cowboy. I doubt I have enough credit to turn your head. But perhaps we could work out an alternate arrangement. I'm quite capable with my hands. With mechanical devices that is."
Daltar's eyebrow raised as he lowered his glass. Time to talk business, then. "A tech? No offense, but Earth isn't exactly known for its interstellar engineering. What kinds of systems are you familiar with?"
"Fair enough." She nodded. Even drunk out of his boots he was still sharp, and suspicious. "I have repaired a Trolys class 2 transport graviton modulator. An older machine, sure, but good luck finding replacements. I have experience working with mod 2 weapon systems, hyper space thrust fluxuators, and I have worked on more then a few robots. I also cook pretty well. Is that a good enough resume or should I take up juggling as well?"
He leaned back in his seat, his half-empty cup all but forgotten on the table in front of him. That would be an impressive resume for an Illian (not that he'd ever met one); in a human it was like finding out a housecat could do advanced calculus. This was of, of course, provided that it was all true, but the fact that she even knew about Trolys modulators warranted a benefit of the doubt, and he was, quite frankly, a pretty awful cook. "Yeah, that should about do it," he said with a grin. "Tell you what, you run a diagnostic on my ship's systems and see what you can do with a few bugs that are giving me some trouble, and I'll get you where you need to go, as long as it's not Infernus or something like that."
Before he could propose a toast to their newfound business arrangement, however, his eyes were drawn to the cantina entrance, where five humanoids wearing crimson armor and carrying an array of nasty-looking melee weapons had just sauntered through. Despite the lack of helmets and the seemingly carefree nature of their gait, any practiced eye could immediately detect the underlying tenseness of the movements, and the deliberate way their eyes scanned the establishment; these were well-trained and disciplined warriors. Specifically, they were Ephermeran elite warlords, making them some of most deadly close-quarters fighters in the cosmos.
"Hey, look at the time," Daltar said, with a rather sad attempt to keep his voice conversational. "We better get going, or we're going to be late getting you wherever you wanted to go." If he was lucky, this was just an off-duty patrol looking to unwind after duty, and not a squad sent here to pick up the guy who had recently sold some heavily-encrypted Imperium data on the black market.
No such luck. The foremost of the group suddenly locked eyes with the Delossian, a vibroblade no doubt balanced for throwing suddenly appearing in his hand as he opened his mouth to alert his companions. Before either the knife or the warning could fly, however, his head exploded in a spray of hot plasma. It would have been an impressive shot for a sober man to have made, but Dal had always been better at shooting than he was at drinking, and the only thing he could do better than shoot was fly. "Yeah, definitely time to go," he yelled at Lunnara, as the remaining four warlords ducked and rolled into cover with disheartening coordination.
She could see her pitch had won him over (as expected) Before she could reply she saw him tense up. Her eye casually followed his gaze to four formal looking stiffs. No problem for her. She wasn't wanted for anything. Nothing worth pursuing off planet anyway. She heard him say something in an forced, cheerful way, but didn't really hear him. Her reverie was broken when she saw one of the stiffs melon explode in a cloud-spray.
He didn't need to tell her twice. She was already on her feet and moving, but he was still a step ahead. She could defend herself against common thugs, but these were clearly pros. And anyway, there would be no chance to grab her weapon from her bag. So she would have to follow this strangers lead.
"They're between us and the door," he yelled, never taking his eyes off of where the warlords had taken cover, "think you can engineer us an exit?"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than one of the assailants sprung forward, a double-bladed vibrosword extended in a killing thrust. Reflexively, Daltar kicked their table up and into his path, and the thick ironwood absorbed the strike, the blade plunging through it a good third of a meter. The elite warrior wielding it exerted his strength and flung the table to one side, which left him open to another blast of plasma from the Delossian's sidearm. This one struck center-of-mass, which was unfortunately where Ephemeran armor tended to be thickest, but the force of the point blank impact threw the warlord across the room to crash into the far wall. It probably didn't kill him, but he was out of the fight, for the foreseeable future.
His three companions, however, did not remain idle. Popping out of cover, they each flung blades at the still-sobering Delossian, who was forced to throw himself awkwardly to the side to find cover of his own. His inebriation ensured that his maneuver was noticeable less graceful than theirs had been, and he crashed heavily onto what had, up to that moment, been a stool. "And make it a rush job!" he groaned, rolling onto his back and firing a few shots along the floor, forcing the elites to focus on not having their feet shot out from under them.
@Medusa_Merc Zornun sipped at a glass of beer in his favourite Inn, chatting with the barowner about business for the day, when the door swung open, and a non-regular walked in.
@sodiummastermind: The Raptor had come seeking another member of race. He had heard rumors of a lizard man, a fellow Reptillian Humanoid in this area. Owned a shop, and frequented this inn. The Raptor had travelled many miles to get here, driven only by the desire to meet another of his kind. As he entered the inn, heads turned. His kind must not be common here, either. "I'm looking for an arms dealer. Zornun."
@medusa_merc: Two emotions fought for control inside Zornun. The first came from his primal side, and was pure anger at seeing an Ungral. This side urged Zornun to kill the lizard straight away. It the second emotion was curiosity. Another Ungral who could talk properly and carried guns was unheard of. in the end, this side won. "You've come to the right place. Now take a seat, and tell me who in the galaxy you are."
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