Macus strolled through the security checkpoint with a barely suppressed smile. It was hard to imagine any of the ragged lifeforms posing him a serious threat. All of them lesser beings wielding weapons they neither understood nor held mastery of. He didn’t know why he expected anything better. Still it was best not to damage relations with future employers so he resisted the urge to make a mockery of them. Ancient scanners groaned to life as he walked past, checking his body for any hidden weapons, another laughable concept. Any true soldier was his own weapon.
The second rate security detected no threat as he strode through, another failure on the part of his hopeful patron. If the man continued to embarrass himself Macus would have to withdraw from the contract. He had his pride after all.
A rusted living quarters loomed ahead. The only large building on the colony, at least that he had seen. Ostentatious, in its own meager way. Crossing beams of scorching laser funneled Macus towards the large heavy doors of the entrance. Poorly armed and barely trained men and women gazed at him from either side. No longer able to resist he shot them a confident smile.
Out on the fringes of human space he doubted any five of them had much of a chance in fair combat against him. Everyone of consequence was near the capitol, where the money was found. Of course there were the brave souls that explored outside of protected space, most of them likely even more deadly than himself. He doubted he’d see any of their type here though. The colony had little more to offer than shelter, subpar at that, and Marauders were dreamers all, heads full of stardust.
Finally he enter the ‘great hall’ of the Primarch, and couldn’t help but chuckle. Such a grand title for someone with holding over something so paltry. The guards inside were far more impressive. Large creatures all of them, bulking humans, no doubt engineered for combat, towering terrans, their earthen skin glimmering in the fluorescent light. This Primarch had his priorities straight at least. Leave the rookies to defending the peasantry and their meagre belongings.
Macus was led up a set of stairs to what could only be described as a throne room. The whole political structure was shockingly archaic, but it was surprisingly refreshing. Sitting on the throne was his future benefactor. His body decked in finery worth more than anything else he’d laid eyes on. Taking a moment to view the angles and folds of the cloth Macus realized he had made a mistake. The Primarch was a woman.
An absolutely gorgeous human woman to be precise. Likely she had taxed her people into their current state of poverty for those looks. God above if it wasn’t worth it though. As her stark red lips curled into a smile Macus thought of a few good reasons to accept the contract.

In a corner of the satellite colony Triumphant a small force armed itself to raise against the malevolent Primarch. Amongst them a woman turned her scarred and shaven head towards one of her many subordinates. She replied with terse orders and returns to her duties. An ancient communication array, if a message could only be sent help might be received. The only chance for an ally would be sending it far away and deep into space.
“Arias?” A young voice gets the rebel leader’s attention. A young girl just old enough to join the fight pulled on her shirt, terror in her eyes. She’d shaved her head too, just like her hero. Arias shook her head then turned to the girl.
“Yes?” She finally replied.
“Scouts. Just outside the perimeter.” Arias’ eyes shot open and she leapt into action. There were only minutes before shots would be traded. It was time to prepare. She slammed her fist into the console and felt the hum of electricity as it began broadcasting.
“Go!” She shouted, for several minutes she was barking orders. When everyone was busy she finally returned the array. If the Primarch got the message first there would be no help arriving. The calibrations were easy enough but slow, meticulous.
She grabbed the pistol from her belt holster and readied herself for combat. Explosions rocked the buried compound and dirt began flying, leaking from the ceiling, churned up by feet. Bright blasts of energy began flying, illuminating the clouds of dust and dirt. She fired off a few blasts herself then returned her hands to the console.
“There! The leader!” She heard a gruff voice. Shadows of soldiers made their way toward her. Some brave soul placed himself behind her and applied suppressing fire. Not long until the array was active. The rebel behind Arias took a blast to the chest and stumbled to the ground gasping.
A light on the console flickered on and Arias raised her weapon again, it was impossible to see friend or foe but she fired a few shots in the direction of the voices she’d heard anyway. Retreating Arias stumbled on the rebel who had saved her. She bent briefly to thank him for his sacrifice.
A young face greeted her. Hair just like hers. Arias closed her eyes and stood.
“Boss, common!!” The slightly garbled voice of Gerad, her second, called from somewhere in the smoke. She followed the voice but her legs were heavy, her mind frantic. A child was dead. Dead because of her love for her leader, her cause.
A gloved hand grasped Arias’ wrist. The pale mask meant it was Gerad. His white hair had darkened with dirt and debris.
“Get down, Boss!” He pushed her to the ground and energy rushed forth from him, the room went blinding white. After the dust had settled it was just her and Gerad. He sighed, the tiny speaker on his mask crackling. “Shit. We lost a lot of guys Ari.”
“Boss.” She reminded him on reflex. “And yeah. Too many.”
“At least you sent the message right?” He offered, sounding unsure.
“It’s sent.” She put her head in her hands. “Doesn’t feel like a win though.”
After a long silence the two rebels made their way from the wreckage.

Stardust will be a space exploration RP starting out on the human satellite colony Triumphant, which is run by a corrupt woman calling herself the Primarch. We will be playing as crews of mercenaries who explore unexplored space and offer their skills for hire known as Marauders. I have a handful of people lined up who will probably be members of my crew but there's absolutely no problem with starting a crew of your own.

It would be ideal for everyone to do the mission I've laid out here first. Both these sides are offering cash for muscle in this conflict.

I will obviously be running all the non-player characters so in the case of meaningful story-advancing combat (say anywhere near the big-bad) I'll be involved. Other than that things will be pretty free form. Also I'm very open to idea suggestion. I'll create basic mission ideas which are going to be broadcast as jobs, then I'll throw out a few at a time for Crews to choose from. I've been out of the roleplaying game for almost a year but I'm interested in jumping right back in so this will likely go up pretty quickly (assuming I can stay on my friends' cases about making characters)

Character Template:

Home Planet:
Crew:
Race:
Name:
Age:
Skills:
Appearance:
History:

I need to read that intro fully, but its about time I went to bed. I'll read it tomorrow, but for now you can count me in.

I'm rather interested in this RP, I'll make a CS soon.

It's short, but it's something.

Home Planet: Station orbiting Corza IV
Crew: Iro
Race: Transhuman
Name: Damian Virrec
Age: Twenty Two
Skills: Demolitions, Ballistics
History: Damian grew up in a variety of planets, moons and stations; the jobs of his parents forced them to move constantly. He learned quickly how to make friends, though he never really got to know anyone for very long before it was off to another three room rental. Having never known a stationary life, it was no wonder Damian would choose Marauding.

Having made few real relationships throughout the years, he had little but to captain his own ship. Scraping together money from odd-jobs wasn’t hard, although this ship was already starting to show wear before he ever sat in it.

Home Planet: Chyyro (Key-Roh)

Crew: Iro

Race: The Eahrhe (ee-ah-re) have pitch black skin. Their eyes however, and all internal organs and blood, are a bright luminescent color. Hers are a light blue. Other than that they are basically humanoid, hair, skin, ears, nose. However Eahrhe hair is patterned spectacularly with streaks, patches, spots and etc. of luminescence. Hair color is passed down by mother, blood by father. The royal lineage is white blooded and the darker and dimmer your blood the less highly you are basically considered. Hair is more like a horoscope, different patterns are considered to imply different things about who the person will become or has been.

Name: A'ehla (Ey-ee-la) [Does not offer surname.]

Age: 110. A running joke among humans is that you basically subtract a hundred to get an Eahrhe's true age. While this is not technically accurate it reflect a certain naivety that man Eahrhe express as to space outside their homeworld. Eahrhe are not allowed to leave the home system until they reach 100 years old.

Skills: Mechanics, Robots, Electronics, AI Maintenance, Builds her own weaponry mission to mission.

Appearance: Her skin is pitch black like most Eahrhe, her hair is black as well and speckled with fine blue dots of luminescence. A'ehla's hair runs long past her shoulders and is black, straight and thick. Her eyes have no iris (not always the case with Eahrhe) and her delicate features are more human than some.

History: A'ehla is clearly of fairly high birth in the Eahrhe controlled system, though she plays her hand fairly close to her chest on who or where she came from. She knows about every gizmo and gadget in all of explored space but chooses to keep the Iro afloat. She claims to love the ship more than its crew though usually while smiling or laughing.

BTW I added appearance. I meant to put it in the original. Pictures are fine for that I don't really care, it's sort of a 'whatever floats your boat' situation if you ask me.

Home Planet: Hecate Gamma, one of the moons of Melinoe Prime.

Crew: Does not have one, but is looking to join one.

Race: Cro'fitians. A group of Amazon-like female humanoid aliens with varying colors of skin and hair, and other oddities such as horns, fangs, and tails. Scales, on occasion. They all tend to have the ability to read emotional auras and have very strong empathy. Their culture very much relies on the "It takes a village" method of life, where families and communities are intertwined across their entire world and all take care of each other like they're related, which they technically are. All Cro'fitians reproduce asexually, naturally forming an embryo from the single egg in their bodies during specific times which are different across the individuals. On rare occasions, they're born with multiple eggs.

Name: Ambrosia

Age: 32, on her planet this is very similar to early to late adolescence so she tends to act like that at times with her body not being completely grown yet and her hormones not being completely settled.

Appearance: Ambrosia is a rather tall female humanoid that stands at 1.7526 meters tall('bout 5'9"), with a body figure that's slowly starting to fill out as she's only just now starting to hit her species' version of puberty. Along with this, what she looks like now might not be what she looks like when she hits adulthood. She has rather long brown-ish hair tied into a ponytail that seems to be darkening into a black on her head and slowly spreading. Her eyes are a hazel-ish which also seem to be slowly darkening, but not to the point of being completely brown. Her cheeks and neck have what appear to be creases, but are actually flesh colored scales that turn different colors when brought to the light. As well as that, she has a pair of backwards facing horns poking out of her hair that are rather short as of right now.

Skills: Empathy. Engineering. Can function as a secretary.

History: Ambrosia's history is rather simple, and she'd fully admit it. When she was born on her planet, she originally wanted to be a great artist like a designer or a singer. But reality hit her rather hard when she gradated from her classes when she realized that it wasn't exactly as glamorous as it looked. So she took to space for a future, rather, and was surprised with how happy she found herself becoming as she left behind her previous child-like mindset. Currently, she's finished her training and is ready for space travel. She simply needs a crew to take her in.

Home Planet: N/A
Crew: --------
Race: 'Chimera' (Artificial humans made from old artificial-soldier criteria. Their design was repurposed from a recently shot-down illegal genetics lab floating in null-space run by 'Traganavia' industries)
Name: 'Jericho' Kaite 073 (pronounced like Kite) (Hates being called by his number more than anything)
Age: 2 (Rapid maturation and genetic works allow Kaite to seem roughly 16-18 with the mentality as though they were in their mid-30s. Unfortunately, due to rapid maturation, artificial subjects in such ways often have stunted growth...and impressively short life spans ranging between 5-20)
Skills: Living in a world slowed down for them, Kaite's reflexes on small scale are wired almost as thrice as fast as the average human. However, this mostly pertains to fine-finger dexterity.
-Ingrained advanced knowledge of ship-based weapon calibrations and operations based on combat records, especially those of skilled fighter pilots...for the purpose of shooting such skilled pilots down.

-Ingrained advanced knowledge of small arms design, mostly pertaining to pistols. However, "A rubix cube of varying layers ultimately relies on the same principals and rules"

-Ingrained advanced knowledge of most humanoid biology for the purpose of first-aid. When it comes to humans and human subspecies, specifically, Kaite is quite skilled in reassembling...and, consequently, disassembling the anatomy in question. (With the aforementioned latent viciousness, a simple knight stick in the hands of even an unimposing individual as Kaite can become a terrifying tool with the right application. Atypical humanoid anatomy can be addressed in a similar way, although to an ultimately less...elegant...result)

-Kaite has a fond interest in cooking and prefers to cook for himself rather than partake in the mess hall with the others for reasons unclear. He also has a taste for electro swing music, though this has only been picked up by those walking by his room. He has a small collection of stuffed animals, but mainly aquatic types...nobody is allowed in his room per request, so this information is not known and he'd deny it to the grave.

-In simulations, Kaite has better-than-average assessment scores for combat piloting. However, their value within the ship outweighs the numbers they'd be bringing to such statistics.

Personality: Kaite is more often than not straight to the point and professional to the letter, taking great pride and respect for the cause they've been 'enlisted' into. However, they are still very young to the world and the workings of people, and is easily taken aback by the factor of emotion. This isn't to say that they are lacking in charisma, empathy or feeling, only that they have a stark two-face where they put business before the former. Many see this as cold...cold calculations with 'humanity' worn as a mask over which. He is otherwise curious of subjects out of his field of expertise and is quick to excite at potential opportunities to know more about the world he lives in. Kaite has a profound distrust of robots border-lining fear for reasons which there are many theories regarding...none of which he will entertain. He speaks with a slight French accent (Vich I vill abuse zeh hell out ouf in-character).

Appearance: Kaite stands at a physically unimposing 5'2. His hair is sheen with what seems like white but fades to a light blonde as the hair length continues; the follicles holding a mild bioluminescence. This also shows in his eyes which hold a mint green (or amber for their right eye). The hair holds a slight wave to it and is usually worn about longer than average. From that protrudes long bunny ears with similarly colored fur, though the short hair is mainly white with little to no bioluminescence. The bushy fluff of his tail shares these qualities. Deep amber eyes with a sharp sapphire blue ring around the edges, though this is obscured by their glasses designed to eases stress on the eyes from all the time they spend staring at monitor screens. Kaite is often clad in regulation attire which, by appearance, take great pride in their work and care to upholding the image (Although comes off more adorable than respectable due to their build). An adaptation upon request is to add an inch to the heel of his boots to make him seem that much taller...he is considering switching back due to looks he's reportedly been given.



History: I wasn't the strongest or fastest, and I certainly wasn't the only one. There were more, maybe twenty at one point that I know of. It was usually very dark, making it difficult to tell how many of us there were, at first. Sometimes one would go missing, or they would come and take a few at a time. None of us understood why some came back and some didn't...not even me, and I was one that came back.

I kept coming back, being lead down the noisy halls of machinery and howling beasts. Down to 'my room', where I learned; the needles in my spine, the clamps to hold my eyes open, being allowed to see only what and when they wanted me to. My first year was the hardest. It wasn't so much the process as it was the topic; used to the procedures, the topics of war, anatomy, physics and humanities bombarded my senses. I'm thankful for most of it, although it quickly made my world quite lonely. Many of the others didn't speak, or were barely even aware where they even were. I 'graduated' to living in a cell, since it got to a point where it was considered inhumane to have to pick me out of 'the pits'...or more arguably, to put me back in. Four walls and a ceiling never seemed so welcoming, especially considering how I could see them. Teachings changed after that to genetics and experimentation...and the Newman project. Truthfully, it was easier to understand and accept once I was just told that, yes, I was a clone being held prisoner for experimentation, my brothers in the pits are borderline mindless animals and no, I was not special, just chosen for a different task.

Tasks...I was shown reports of the others' tasks and the testing involved. 039 Was a drooling mute of a hulk that ate bones and needed little oxygen for hours while it was left to toil away, lifting weights and fighting other rejects of its kind, often to the death and often unprovoked. He's the oldest. 055 is...like a rodent, so to speak, you know, if it doesn't chew on something, its teeth grow into its brain. There was apparently an attempt to replicate this effect with an entire skeletal structure. They could never figure out how to stop the growths besides grinding them down after they start piercing the skin. I heard talk of bets being taken; apparently it wasn't uncommon for terminal malformations to occur. It wasn't unlike 042 whose endless bouts of energy pushed them to run until their muscles gave out. They supposedly died from a heart attack a few minutes later. Needless to say, those lessons stopped after a short time, but it still left me wondering just what was the plan for me? I felt fortunate, however lame dying from a chess game sounded, that whatever I had been tailored for didn't require me to suffer like the others...and then the implants came.

The dull pains in my head and chest made it hard to sleep. It was nice how I barely saw them coming, but whatever they had done, it was...different. In some instances I shook so violently that most sensation washed away besides it. I was always so cold and sick for a time after the bouts that I almost couldn't stand. The machines debated about rejection, though it was proposed that bioware implants often had rocky acceptance stages to installation, especially when the endocrine system is involved. The events gradually diminished my resolve, and by the time it happened, there was little I could do to fight the hands that stuffed me into what I came to know as an 'escape pod'.

You're all in btw. Good stuff, this should be fun.

Looks interesting. Got a few ideas, specifically i like the idea of being some form of elite albeit small merc group that goes where the money is, and may cause conflict with the other players. Or being a merc type that will likely join their side, who's down on his luck.

If you're asking if you can be multiple guys, yeah I don't care. Make temps for them though.