Expendable

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

Question:

Will we be following a post order? Just want to make sure. Because I'm geting that "post" itch but don't wanna go over someone.

@BigPapaBelial

That's up to the GM. Mostly I just wait until there's two posts following my last one.

Ex - Wanted: Dead or Alive

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

<<< REJECTED >>>

Seven

#310367

'Seven'

Core Details

Name: Seven
Age: 390 (+/- 25) N.C. (Chronological) / Early-to-mid twenties (Biological)
Gender: Fem
Species: Human (Revived)

Who are you?

2478.0923 N.C. - Case notes of Dr. Crandall

"Subject #310367, cryogenically preserved head, female, no accompanying file. Obtain by the Seares Foundation on 2478.0916 N.C. Minor cranial damage, placed into the Chrysalis reactor and a body was reconstructed."

"Disappointing. No panic reaction. They didn't even open their eyes until we opened the shield. Non-verbal, can follow basic instruction. Barely registers as curious. Ice formation in the brain likely damaged the tissues beyond the capabilities of the Chrysalis reactor to repair. Classified as 'Burnt' - oh, don't you roll your eyes at me, Decker! It's clear to me there's nothing going on up there! Now go get the next head and make sure it's lively! I want to see the fear this time!"

Classification: Menial worker.
Assignment: Custodial duties.

2479.1209 N.C. - Late Night with Shimbo (opening monologue)

"Gentles, you are not going to believe this! Earlier this afternoon, the head of the network, Randall Garrett, was shocked to find out from the police that his daughter got kidnapped while she was sitting in Santa's lap at the Crater Street Mall by three members of the Kutath gang!"
<gasping, unsettled muttering>
"I'm serious! I'm serious! I swear to you, this really happened! Honest to god!"

"But they didn't make it out of the mall with her. No, it wasn't security - they were heading past the restrooms only to slip on the floor this Burnt was mopping!"
<Confused muttering>
"Honest to god! She even tried to help them by reaching out with her mop, but kept hitting them instead! Man, just when you thought it was safe to go to the restroom!"
<Laughter>

"Then the Burnt heard little Tabitha crying - but thank god, she dropped her mop!"
<Laughter>
"The quick response team found Tabitha in the Burnt's lap being rocked while sitting on the wet floor."
<Aahs, symathetic noises>
"I'm glad there's something still rattling around in that freezer, but man, that cleaning service has gotta shell out for better diapers!"
<Laughter, howls>

"Garrett was so happy, he bought out that Burnt's contract!"
<Happy coos>
"I just gotta wonder, how long are they gonna let her keep working there before they tell her?"
<Laughter, howls>

2479.1209 N.C. 2nd Precinct.

"I don't like her eyes."
"Whose eyes? That Burnt?"
"Yeah, she don't blink. Just keeps staring at me."
"So?"
"It's creepy as hell. And I yawned. "
"Yawned? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Empathy. You see someone yawn, you yawn back. You do it, I do it, everyone does it."
"Except her."

"Except her. She's a psychopath. Pure evil, I'm telling you."

"A burnt."
"Mark my words, if we let her go..."
"What, because she doesn't yawn? She's a hero who just saved a kid! We've no reason to hold her, nobody's going to prosecute her, so she's free to go. And you leave her alone."
"Why?"

"She scares me, too."

What do you bring to the table?

• Observant. Listens.
• Scary eyes. Doesn't blink much, if ever. It's like staring into a laser drill, one of you is gonna go blind and it's not going to be her.
• Good with guns. Good with improvised weapons. Knows pain points. Deadly with her hands.
• People ignore her, like she's a part of the wall that you don't want to stare at.
• Knows how to clean. Maybe too well. Not sure if what she's mixing up in the janitor's closet is all that healthy. Or why that box of igniters are in there. Or those big bottles of acid.

What's your problem?

As a Burnt, Seven's considered barely human. A menial worker, someone you glance at, see that line on her neck, that blank expression, and your eyes just slides off her. You don't want to look at her anymore, makes you uncomfortable, butterflies in your stomach like you just traded a glance with death. And you're happy because it's not you standing there, staring back coldly like that.

It's creepier if she's living next door, or walking by your side, never saying a word. (Not that Seven could.)

It's worse if she's taken some Aura and her eyes start to glow. And she starts smiling....

Life in the crew

Showed up during interviews at a bar. Someone tried to push pass Seven and wound up on the floor, screaming, head bashed on the table edge and caught in an arm lock. All the while quietly staring back.

Then when she let them go, Seven pulled out a cleaning cloth and wiped the table edge as if nothing much had happened.

Admittedly, the ship's never been cleaner and she's still working on those more stubborn stains, but you're half afraid to walk into a room where she's scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees. Like the next time you walk across that fresh scrubbed floor in dirty boots, you'll wake up in the airlock with them hanging around your neck, with her staring back at you through the window as the pumps start. Maybe the doc has something to stop that nightmare...?

Still, it's comforting to know that when she throws that blade towards you, it's for the guy standing behind you about to shoot. If you call that comforting.

It's been awhile.

Greetings and salutations. Hopefully we keep you a little longer this time.

See you space samurai... A Space Opera

Probably too late with all those great entries, but I thought I'd try.

Seven

#310367

'Seven'

Core Details

Name: Seven
Age: 390 (+/- 25) N.C. (Chronological) / Early-to-mid twenties (Biological)
Gender: Fem
Species: Human (Revived)

Who are you?

2478.0923 N.C. - Case notes of Dr. Crandall

"Subject #310367, cryogenically preserved head, female, no accompanying file. Obtain by the Seares Foundation on 2478.0916 N.C. Minor cranial damage, placed into the Chrysalis reactor and a body was reconstructed."

"Disappointing. No panic reaction. They didn't even open their eyes until we opened the shield. Non-verbal, can follow basic instruction. Barely registers as curious. Ice formation in the brain likely damaged the tissues beyond the capabilities of the Chrysalis reactor to repair. Classified as 'Burnt' - oh, don't you roll your eyes at me, Decker! It's clear to me there's nothing going on up there! Now go get the next head and make sure it's lively! I want to see the fear this time!"

Classification: Menial worker.
Assignment: Custodial duties.

2479.1209 N.C. - Late Night with Shimbo (opening monologue)

"Gentles, you are not going to believe this! Earlier this afternoon, the head of the network, Randall Garrett, was shocked to find out from the police that his daughter got kidnapped while she was sitting in Santa's lap at the Crater Street Mall by three members of the Kutath gang!"
<gasping, unsettled muttering>
"I'm serious! I'm serious! I swear to you, this really happened! Honest to god!"

"But they didn't make it out of the mall with her. No, it wasn't security - they were heading past the restrooms only to slip on the floor this Burnt was mopping!"
<Confused muttering>
"Honest to god! She even tried to help them by reaching out with her mop, but kept hitting them instead! Man, just when you thought it was safe to go to the restroom!"
<Laughter>

"Then the Burnt heard little Tabitha crying - but thank god, she dropped her mop!"
<Laughter>
"The quick response team found Tabitha in the Burnt's lap being rocked while sitting on the wet floor."
<Aahs, symathetic noises>
"I'm glad there's something still rattling around in that freezer, but man, that cleaning service has gotta shell out for better diapers!"
<Laughter, howls>

"Garrett was so happy, he bought out that Burnt's contract!"
<Happy coos>
"I just gotta wonder, how long are they gonna let her keep working there before they tell her?"
<Laughter, howls>

2479.1209 N.C. 2nd Precinct.

"I don't like her eyes."
"Whose eyes? That Burnt?"
"Yeah, she don't blink. Just keeps staring at me."
"So?"
"It's creepy as hell. And I yawned. "
"Yawned? What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"Empathy. You see someone yawn, you yawn back. You do it, I do it, everyone does it."
"Except her."

"Except her. She's a psychopath. Pure evil, I'm telling you."

"A burnt."
"Mark my words, if we let her go..."
"What, because she doesn't yawn? She's a hero who just saved a kid! We've no reason to hold her, nobody's going to prosecute her, so she's free to go. And you leave her alone."
"Why?"

"She scares me, too."

What do you bring to the table?

• Observant. Listens.
• Scary eyes. Doesn't blink much, if ever. It's like staring into a laser drill, one of you is gonna go blind and it's not going to be her.
• Good with guns. Good with improvised weapons. Knows pain points. Deadly with her hands.
• People ignore her, like she's a part of the wall that you don't want to stare at.
• Knows how to clean. Maybe too well. Not sure if what she's mixing up in the janitor's closet is all that healthy. Or why that box of igniters are in there. Or those big bottles of acid.

What's your problem?

As a Burnt, Seven's considered barely human. A menial worker, someone you glance at, see that line on her neck, that blank expression, and your eyes just slides off her. You don't want to look at her anymore, makes you uncomfortable, butterflies in your stomach like you just traded a glance with death. And you're happy because it's not you standing there, staring back coldly like that.

It's creepier if she's living next door, or walking by your side, never saying a word. (Not that Seven could.)

It's worse if she's taken some Aura and her eyes start to glow. And she starts smiling....

Life in the crew

Showed up during interviews at a bar. Someone tried to push pass Seven and wound up on the floor, screaming, head bashed on the table edge and caught in an arm lock. All the while quietly staring back.

Then when she let them go, Seven pulled out a cleaning cloth and wiped the table edge as if nothing much had happened.

Admittedly, the ship's never been cleaner and she's still working on those more stubborn stains, but you're half afraid to walk into a room where she's scrubbing the floor on her hands and knees. Like the next time you walk across that fresh scrubbed floor in dirty boots, you'll wake up in the airlock with them hanging around your neck, with her staring back at you through the window as the pumps start. Maybe the doc has something to stop that nightmare...?

Still, it's comforting to know that when she throws that blade towards you, it's for the guy standing behind you about to shoot. If you call that comforting.

In Dr.Crandall's defense, he sees fear as an awareness of what's going on around you, of intelligence. He can work with that. But he may also be a sociopath. It's not an easy job and someone's got to do it.

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

Suddenly I'm really glad I'm an orangutan. Run sheep, run!

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

At least no cases of tinned or microwavable single-serving Haggis. Although seen those little bubble packs or condiment for the "gravy" would have been fun.

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

Will we be inflicted with kilts and bagpipes?
Will there be haggis?
Will there be whiskey?

We can only wait and see.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

J'eon the Blacksmith

It happened between the beats of his heart, the pain was there - and then it was not.

"What... is this?" he marveled as he felt the bones knitting together, re-forged whole again.

"My lady, this humble blacksmith thanks you," he says to Kaqir, bowing his head when she's finished.

"I offer my thanks to you two, as well," he adds, climbing carefully down from his cart to stand on his own feet to face Kareet and Shirik, placing his right arm on his broad chest as a salute. "I...."

Kareet, who had been paying Kaqir, was now looking past her, at... What was that?

"My friend, is this your work?" he asks Shirik just before the loudest clap of thunder peeled over the village and beyond.

"Sky stone?" he wondered. It was big - was a mountain of sky stone about to hit this village?

---

Jack Mallory, X.O.

"Captain! We were too deep in the gravity well, I don't think we cleared atmosphere," Jack reported, training kicking in as he began reading his panel. "We must have hugged the Earth during that jump! Radar shows we're above some rough terrain...."

The radio was eerily silent, just the faint hiss of the universe in his ears.

"Captain, we've lost comms!" the executive officer reported, checking and rechecking the panel. "No... wait... this doesn't make sense! Radio is working, but nobody's talking out there? Did the pulse of the jump knock everyone off the air?"

Without GPS, they'd have to do terrain mapping and hope they'd get a match from the AI...

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

<Snipped quote by Expendable>

Karma is accepted. You can move her to the character tab :)

@Milkman

Okay, I tweaked the sheet for better readability, and I've posted to the IC.

The Frontier ( An anthro space western roleplay)

It was incredible that for the fourteen years since her surgery, her abdomen still ached. Today wasn't quite as bad, so Karma was glad she hadn't taken a sip of moonshine that morning to dull it further. The smell would definitely carry in such a small room, and it wouldn't look good for their new engineer to be pegged as a raging alcoholic.

There were only a few seats on the bridge, which Karma didn't mind as it was safer to stand with your back against a wall, but gritting her teeth made her face look tense and angry, especially with all the scars on it. It didn't help that so many had punched it in prison, for one reason or another. She was glad that nobody here had tried it - yet.

Still, in the rush to move aboard the Dauntless, she wish she'd grabbed a few things. A mug for herself. The shop that had the carpet also had bioplastic multitools, and one did transform into a cup - but it was also a brush, and she didn't think she'd like to brush her hair with whatever she'd been drinking. Or how long it might last with her homemade brew, once her current supply was out. Tea would be nice, something fruity or flowery instead of all the black tea. A flask or even a bottle of gentle pain killers.

A bottle of meds that MaMa or some other prisoner wouldn't immediately whisk away after knocking her down, even after "learning her lesson." And you couldn't go back to the docs and tell them the bottle was stolen, they'd just nod, not believing or just not caring, saying she'd have to pay for more. And mark you down as "drug seeking". Her eyes shifted to Dar, wondering what he'd charge her for services? It was bad enough she didn't understand what the male was saying half the time.

They seemed friendly enough, but after her time in the prison work camp, she was leery of receiving favors - you never knew how someone might want it paid back. After all, it was a favor that landed her in prison.

She raised her head - and realized they were all looking at her.
Oh god....

"Uh," she managed, swallowing, "Wh... whatever you want to do."