FourtyTwoStatus
Recent Statuses
10 yrs ago
Current
acquire raifu, defend waifu
10 yrs ago
Nothing quite like schizophrenic weather.
1
like
10 yrs ago
At this point I don't even care where I end up. I just want to do something productive, bloody hell.
10 yrs ago
I still remember four...
10 yrs ago
Standing by to stand by, cap'n!
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
I'm using station 13 because I don't recall there being an official name. =\ Once we have one, I'll go back to edit everything. Still, removed the '13' from my latest post.
Posted!
It had been mere minutes since Kezal left Rainman and he was already tempted to call it quits. It was not because the task was hard; it just required him to check the paperwork and if necessary, bring up relevant or extra details on his visor. A cakewalk compared to actual police work, but much more tedious. Kezal swore he could feel his brain slowly shutting down, synapse by synapse, as he flipped through paperwork care after crate. It was a wonder how the personnel working in the cargo bay were not all comatose from this lack of mental exercise, and Kezal found himself respecting them a little bit more.
Most of the crates contained the usual items: Food, water, construction materials and other basic necessities. Whether they actually contained those items were a whole other matter, but until Kezal found sufficient evidence to support the idea that there was a contraband AI on board the station, he was unwilling to lock down the entire cargo bay and have the crew start opening every crate. He had already laid out just what would make him take that action. A mismatch in the location of origin between the physical and digital logistic papers were usually a good indicator that something was amiss, or a large crate for an object that could otherwise be transported via soft packaging.
He heard Rainman call for him. Thanking his ancestors for the chance to stop his repetitive task, he rushed towards the worker. "What is-" He began, but then immediately saw the reason for his presence. In the long, oddly-shaped crate directly in front of them laid a human body. It was quite obviously a she, completely nude and was either dead or in a drug-induced or cryogenic sleep. "Vaskrin mak zihal!" Keval swore in his native tongue, thankful that the translator had declined to translate that particularly rude and vulgar phrase. He sprang into action immediately, kneeling down and placing a finger to the woman's neck. He pumped the sensitivity in his gloves to maximum, and even then he could barely feel a pulse. "Alive, but barely."
He stood back up, returning the sensitivity settings to normal levels. "Rainman, I want all paperwork related to this crate." He said quickly. Trafficking was as bad as a crime got. With drugs and arms smuggling, it usually just involved throwing the offending items off the station and looking for the person who had decided to bring them into the station. When it came to living things, it became more complicated. No one would attempt to smuggle in a person for the fun of it. It was expensive and required plenty of help both inside and outside. Last but not least, the station was still under construction. It was incredibly weird for someone to put so much effort into smuggling a person onto a station that was still not fully operational and had only a population of only a couple dozen people.
"Someone lock this damn place down! I want every crate of a similar make and shape to be opened and inspected!" Kezal barked. "On authority of Sergeant Kezal Vazarik'Sikalaz, Station Security division!"
He looked back down at the woman. "Rainman, see if your boys can get her out of that crate. Don't do anything too rough. We don't know about her physical condition yet. She could be falling to pieces for all we know." He said, then looked at the rest of the workers. "And someone bring that surgeon, doctor Blake, down here!"
Most of the crates contained the usual items: Food, water, construction materials and other basic necessities. Whether they actually contained those items were a whole other matter, but until Kezal found sufficient evidence to support the idea that there was a contraband AI on board the station, he was unwilling to lock down the entire cargo bay and have the crew start opening every crate. He had already laid out just what would make him take that action. A mismatch in the location of origin between the physical and digital logistic papers were usually a good indicator that something was amiss, or a large crate for an object that could otherwise be transported via soft packaging.
He heard Rainman call for him. Thanking his ancestors for the chance to stop his repetitive task, he rushed towards the worker. "What is-" He began, but then immediately saw the reason for his presence. In the long, oddly-shaped crate directly in front of them laid a human body. It was quite obviously a she, completely nude and was either dead or in a drug-induced or cryogenic sleep. "Vaskrin mak zihal!" Keval swore in his native tongue, thankful that the translator had declined to translate that particularly rude and vulgar phrase. He sprang into action immediately, kneeling down and placing a finger to the woman's neck. He pumped the sensitivity in his gloves to maximum, and even then he could barely feel a pulse. "Alive, but barely."
He stood back up, returning the sensitivity settings to normal levels. "Rainman, I want all paperwork related to this crate." He said quickly. Trafficking was as bad as a crime got. With drugs and arms smuggling, it usually just involved throwing the offending items off the station and looking for the person who had decided to bring them into the station. When it came to living things, it became more complicated. No one would attempt to smuggle in a person for the fun of it. It was expensive and required plenty of help both inside and outside. Last but not least, the station was still under construction. It was incredibly weird for someone to put so much effort into smuggling a person onto a station that was still not fully operational and had only a population of only a couple dozen people.
"Someone lock this damn place down! I want every crate of a similar make and shape to be opened and inspected!" Kezal barked. "On authority of Sergeant Kezal Vazarik'Sikalaz, Station Security division!"
He looked back down at the woman. "Rainman, see if your boys can get her out of that crate. Don't do anything too rough. We don't know about her physical condition yet. She could be falling to pieces for all we know." He said, then looked at the rest of the workers. "And someone bring that surgeon, doctor Blake, down here!"
Will post when I get home. In school right now.
"Oh, nothing, Rainman." Kezal replied and looked down at the human. Due to the combat-grade damping systems of his armour, he barely shifted and only felt a slight rippled when Rainman walked straight into him. It was only after the human spoke did Kezal actually notice his presence. Kezal made a note to permanently set his armour settings to one which was more suitable for a civilian environment; remembering to do so every morning was apparently too much for him to handle. "Station AI mentioned something about another AI coming on board. Thought that I'd check here."
He smirked beneath his visor, then shrugged his shoulders. "It also gives me an excuse to drop everything to Doohan. Tenth call about hollow walls in three days, can you imagine that? It's as if these people have never been on a station under construction before." He said. "Anyway, back to work. I'll be checking the crates for any suspicious markings. Call me if you find anything odd."
With that, he started walking through the stacks of crates. He was on the lookout for a small crate; an AI did not take up too much space, all it needed was just a sufficiently powerful processor to allow it to function. It was possible that the AI could be smuggled onto the station via one of the larger crates, but Kezal wanted to eliminate the most obvious choice first. Once that was done, then he would move on to the tedious process of having every crate opened and physically checked to make sure that there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Kezal sighed. It was going to be a long day.
He smirked beneath his visor, then shrugged his shoulders. "It also gives me an excuse to drop everything to Doohan. Tenth call about hollow walls in three days, can you imagine that? It's as if these people have never been on a station under construction before." He said. "Anyway, back to work. I'll be checking the crates for any suspicious markings. Call me if you find anything odd."
With that, he started walking through the stacks of crates. He was on the lookout for a small crate; an AI did not take up too much space, all it needed was just a sufficiently powerful processor to allow it to function. It was possible that the AI could be smuggled onto the station via one of the larger crates, but Kezal wanted to eliminate the most obvious choice first. Once that was done, then he would move on to the tedious process of having every crate opened and physically checked to make sure that there was nothing out of the ordinary.
Kezal sighed. It was going to be a long day.
Unicorns for everybody!
Seriously though, I think it's just a placeholder for the avatar system.
Seriously though, I think it's just a placeholder for the avatar system.
Name: Alexander Van Rooiakker
Nicknames/Titles: Alex / Red / Havoc / Volition (Official codename)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Allegiance: The Dutch Republic
Allegiance Faction: The Federal Government (Unofficially)
Role: Agent (Spy, Saboteur and Assassin rolled into one)
Personality: Friendly, personable and always quick with a joke or witticism, Alexander is a hard person to dislike. He frequents the various bars found on the islands of the Caribbean, always with coin in his pocket and eager to buy his new acquaintances a round of drinks or perhaps even a night with a prostitute. To many, he is just another rich young man trying to make it big in the new world, and quite obviously out of his depth and out of his mind. It is thus no surprise that very few people see him as a threat.
However, all this belies Alexander's true nature. As an agent of the Dutch Republic, his role is to gather information on the various factions in the new world and if necessary, engage in direct action to safeguard the interests of the republic. The Federal Government gives him a monthly allowance to spend as he sees fit and Alexander certainly does so. The drinks help to lower a person's defenses and makes them more willing to talk; the prostitutes had been paid beforehand to ask just the right questions in order to get the information Alexander needed.
He is a dangerously smart individual; he needs to be, given as how while he works for the Federal Government, they have effectively disowned him. If he gets in trouble, there would be no help on the way to bail him out. However, despite knowing the risks of his job, he still manages to keep himself calm at all times and always seems to be in control, regardless of the situation. His silver tongue can often talk circles around most people, and where that would not work, he can always issue threats that are never empty.
Due to the War of Spanish Succession, he has a strong hatred for the French.
Enhanced Ability: Dragoon. Served in the Royal Dutch Army as a mounted infantryman and thus was trained to fight equally well with the musket and sword. Due to their role as a screening force for the main army and thus tasked with harassing enemy formations, Alexander didn't need to just be able to fire fast, he needed to fire accurately in order to consistently kill the drummers, buglers or officers. As such, Alexander is extraordinarily fast when it comes to reloading firearms and can reliably hit targets with a degree of accuracy that is higher than normal. He is also able to hold his own when using the sword.
Needless to say, Alexander is also quite comfortable around horses and can ride one exceptionally well. Though as he puts it, 'it is as useful as a nun in a brothel'.
Biography: Alexander was born in the County of Zeeland to a modest, working-class family, the second-eldest among three brothers. His father, a private gunsmith who crafted firearms for hunters, taught Alexander and his brothers the tricks of the trade from an early age, starting with the basics of building and maintaining a firearm. By the time he was ten, Alexander was capable enough to carry out minor repairs without the supervision of his father. A year later, and he was out hunting along with his brothers, using the same rifles and muskets they had been built from scratch.
When war came in the form of the War of Spanish Succession, Alexander and his brothers did not hesitate to sign up with the army despite the fact that their ages ranged between fourteen and sixteen. After all, the Spanish still held parts of the Netherlands and it was their duty as patriotic Dutchmen to reunite it with the republic. With their already-impressive gunnery skills, they were assigned to a Light Dragoon regiment. Alexander's parents had sent them off with their blessings, and all had expected the war to be a short one. They would kick the Spanish out of their land, fend off the French with British help and be back home in time for Christmas.
However, the war proved to be anything but short. Alexander and his brothers served in several small skirmished which never built up to the huge, wide-scale battle they had been hoping for. It was always just them riding in, firing a few shots into the enemy scouts and watching them flee. It was not until a few years into the war did they get their first taste of battle. At the Battle of Ramilies, Alexander's regiment performed more than just scouting duties. They flanked the enemies, firing at them from various directions to confuse them. It all went well, but then Alexander and his brothers got overconfident and broke formation in an attempt to silence the enemy cannons.
They ran straight into an enemy reserve regiment that was being moved to the front. Alexander managed to break away at the last minute, but his brothers were killed instantly when the regiment stopped and opened fire. Alexander himself was dehorsed when his steed was killed by a stray bullet. Thankfully, he was picked up by a British cavalryman who had also been separated from the rest of his regiment in the chaos.
After the war, Alexander returned to Zeeland, only to find that his home village had been razed by a French advance guard that had broke through the Anglo-Dutch lines. He had no idea what had happened to his family, but the rumours he heard told him that his father and mother had been executed by the French for supplying firearms to the rebels. It was all just rumours, but that still added fuel to the burning hatred Alexander felt for the French. He returned to the army, half-expecting to be assigned to another dragoon regiment, but was pleasantly surprised when he heard that he was to be sent to the New World for 'special duties'.
The Government had known of Alexander, the death of his brothers and the destruction of his village and accurately guessed that he would have a hatred for the French that knew no rivals. Rather than punishing him, it was decided that he would be of more use in the New World, where he could help the Government gather information on both the British and French. After all, the Dutch were seen as the neutral party in the New World. Between the French, Spanish and British jockeying for dominance, a lone Dutchman could slip through the cracks and back out with valuable information. Besides, there was very little to tie Alexander to the Government, so if he got caught and executed, it would be of no harm for the Dutch Republic.
While in the Caribbean, he poses as an adventurer, explorer and gun-for-hire. It is a cover that works well; someone wanting to make a new life for themselves was not a rare sight in the new world. What made Alexander stand out, however, was his absolute ruthlessness when it came to fighting. His alias, 'Havoc', came from a story which stated that he had once managed to clear an entire deck of pirates on his own.
When asked, Alexander simply smiles and neither confirms nor denies the story.
Likes: Exploring, spying, anything that hurts the French State.
Dislikes: The French Army, the French Government, Tobacco
Family: None. All died during the War of Spanish Succession, either through combat or getting caught in the crossfire.
Weapons:
- Carries four pistols. Two holstered at his hip, two on his lower back
- One carbine, usually strapped diagonally across his back
- Sword sheathed at his hip (Uses a dual sheath to allow him to have both a sword and pistol on the same side)
- Dagger sheathed in boot for more discreet kills.
Miscellaneous: He receives his money from the Dutch Government from various anonymous contacts, most of them working for the Royal Dutch Navy.
Nicknames/Titles: Alex / Red / Havoc / Volition (Official codename)
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Allegiance: The Dutch Republic
Allegiance Faction: The Federal Government (Unofficially)
Role: Agent (Spy, Saboteur and Assassin rolled into one)
Personality: Friendly, personable and always quick with a joke or witticism, Alexander is a hard person to dislike. He frequents the various bars found on the islands of the Caribbean, always with coin in his pocket and eager to buy his new acquaintances a round of drinks or perhaps even a night with a prostitute. To many, he is just another rich young man trying to make it big in the new world, and quite obviously out of his depth and out of his mind. It is thus no surprise that very few people see him as a threat.
However, all this belies Alexander's true nature. As an agent of the Dutch Republic, his role is to gather information on the various factions in the new world and if necessary, engage in direct action to safeguard the interests of the republic. The Federal Government gives him a monthly allowance to spend as he sees fit and Alexander certainly does so. The drinks help to lower a person's defenses and makes them more willing to talk; the prostitutes had been paid beforehand to ask just the right questions in order to get the information Alexander needed.
He is a dangerously smart individual; he needs to be, given as how while he works for the Federal Government, they have effectively disowned him. If he gets in trouble, there would be no help on the way to bail him out. However, despite knowing the risks of his job, he still manages to keep himself calm at all times and always seems to be in control, regardless of the situation. His silver tongue can often talk circles around most people, and where that would not work, he can always issue threats that are never empty.
Due to the War of Spanish Succession, he has a strong hatred for the French.
Enhanced Ability: Dragoon. Served in the Royal Dutch Army as a mounted infantryman and thus was trained to fight equally well with the musket and sword. Due to their role as a screening force for the main army and thus tasked with harassing enemy formations, Alexander didn't need to just be able to fire fast, he needed to fire accurately in order to consistently kill the drummers, buglers or officers. As such, Alexander is extraordinarily fast when it comes to reloading firearms and can reliably hit targets with a degree of accuracy that is higher than normal. He is also able to hold his own when using the sword.
Needless to say, Alexander is also quite comfortable around horses and can ride one exceptionally well. Though as he puts it, 'it is as useful as a nun in a brothel'.
Biography: Alexander was born in the County of Zeeland to a modest, working-class family, the second-eldest among three brothers. His father, a private gunsmith who crafted firearms for hunters, taught Alexander and his brothers the tricks of the trade from an early age, starting with the basics of building and maintaining a firearm. By the time he was ten, Alexander was capable enough to carry out minor repairs without the supervision of his father. A year later, and he was out hunting along with his brothers, using the same rifles and muskets they had been built from scratch.
When war came in the form of the War of Spanish Succession, Alexander and his brothers did not hesitate to sign up with the army despite the fact that their ages ranged between fourteen and sixteen. After all, the Spanish still held parts of the Netherlands and it was their duty as patriotic Dutchmen to reunite it with the republic. With their already-impressive gunnery skills, they were assigned to a Light Dragoon regiment. Alexander's parents had sent them off with their blessings, and all had expected the war to be a short one. They would kick the Spanish out of their land, fend off the French with British help and be back home in time for Christmas.
However, the war proved to be anything but short. Alexander and his brothers served in several small skirmished which never built up to the huge, wide-scale battle they had been hoping for. It was always just them riding in, firing a few shots into the enemy scouts and watching them flee. It was not until a few years into the war did they get their first taste of battle. At the Battle of Ramilies, Alexander's regiment performed more than just scouting duties. They flanked the enemies, firing at them from various directions to confuse them. It all went well, but then Alexander and his brothers got overconfident and broke formation in an attempt to silence the enemy cannons.
They ran straight into an enemy reserve regiment that was being moved to the front. Alexander managed to break away at the last minute, but his brothers were killed instantly when the regiment stopped and opened fire. Alexander himself was dehorsed when his steed was killed by a stray bullet. Thankfully, he was picked up by a British cavalryman who had also been separated from the rest of his regiment in the chaos.
After the war, Alexander returned to Zeeland, only to find that his home village had been razed by a French advance guard that had broke through the Anglo-Dutch lines. He had no idea what had happened to his family, but the rumours he heard told him that his father and mother had been executed by the French for supplying firearms to the rebels. It was all just rumours, but that still added fuel to the burning hatred Alexander felt for the French. He returned to the army, half-expecting to be assigned to another dragoon regiment, but was pleasantly surprised when he heard that he was to be sent to the New World for 'special duties'.
The Government had known of Alexander, the death of his brothers and the destruction of his village and accurately guessed that he would have a hatred for the French that knew no rivals. Rather than punishing him, it was decided that he would be of more use in the New World, where he could help the Government gather information on both the British and French. After all, the Dutch were seen as the neutral party in the New World. Between the French, Spanish and British jockeying for dominance, a lone Dutchman could slip through the cracks and back out with valuable information. Besides, there was very little to tie Alexander to the Government, so if he got caught and executed, it would be of no harm for the Dutch Republic.
While in the Caribbean, he poses as an adventurer, explorer and gun-for-hire. It is a cover that works well; someone wanting to make a new life for themselves was not a rare sight in the new world. What made Alexander stand out, however, was his absolute ruthlessness when it came to fighting. His alias, 'Havoc', came from a story which stated that he had once managed to clear an entire deck of pirates on his own.
When asked, Alexander simply smiles and neither confirms nor denies the story.
Likes: Exploring, spying, anything that hurts the French State.
Dislikes: The French Army, the French Government, Tobacco
Family: None. All died during the War of Spanish Succession, either through combat or getting caught in the crossfire.
Weapons:
- Carries four pistols. Two holstered at his hip, two on his lower back
- One carbine, usually strapped diagonally across his back
- Sword sheathed at his hip (Uses a dual sheath to allow him to have both a sword and pistol on the same side)
- Dagger sheathed in boot for more discreet kills.
Miscellaneous: He receives his money from the Dutch Government from various anonymous contacts, most of them working for the Royal Dutch Navy.
Mine is just going "So you're gonna post that, huh? No, no...It's fine. Just sayin'...Really?"
Edited my post to remove the weapons.
My unicorn looks like it's silently judging me. ._.
My unicorn looks like it's silently judging me. ._.
It's not your post that is short. It's mine that's way too long. =\
© 2007-2024