Community Event / Creation Abraka Drabble The Old Official Drabble THIS IS AN EX THREAD IT IS DEADED
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A New Beginning.
The Orca purred as the engines shifted from supercruise into normal drive.
Jeff exited from the cockpit and slumped on one of the fine leather couches,
He could leave it all behind now, the poverty, deprivation and addiction; everything.
Jeff had begged, borrowed and stole his way to a ticket on a fast ship to nowhere.
Somewhere far enough away to become unknown.
Standing up he kicked one of the bodies that lay in his way
He would expose them nonchalantly to the vacuum of space soon enough.
Jeff had gone rogue, and there was a whole galaxy of opportunity.
The Orca purred as the engines shifted from supercruise into normal drive.
Jeff exited from the cockpit and slumped on one of the fine leather couches,
He could leave it all behind now, the poverty, deprivation and addiction; everything.
Jeff had begged, borrowed and stole his way to a ticket on a fast ship to nowhere.
Somewhere far enough away to become unknown.
Standing up he kicked one of the bodies that lay in his way
He would expose them nonchalantly to the vacuum of space soon enough.
Jeff had gone rogue, and there was a whole galaxy of opportunity.
I had decided to drabble about the first thing that came into my head when I read the topic.
I regret nothing
Valour's Station
William gazed icely out of the window of his penthouse apartment, not seeing the lazy wheel of the stars outside the station.
Behind him the majordomo fell to his knees, begging for mercy over the typographical error.
Tonight's Grand Ball would feature every eligible imperial daughter within 100 lightyears of A Nation (whatever possessed his uncle Valour to name the station that? it was preposterous!), and his staff couldn't even find his cosmetics? He would be laughing stock without blusher.
The fool had the gall to wheel in that crate of criminals!
Such a parcel of rogues in A Nation.
I regret nothing
Valour's Station
William gazed icely out of the window of his penthouse apartment, not seeing the lazy wheel of the stars outside the station.
Behind him the majordomo fell to his knees, begging for mercy over the typographical error.
Tonight's Grand Ball would feature every eligible imperial daughter within 100 lightyears of A Nation (whatever possessed his uncle Valour to name the station that? it was preposterous!), and his staff couldn't even find his cosmetics? He would be laughing stock without blusher.
The fool had the gall to wheel in that crate of criminals!
Such a parcel of rogues in A Nation.
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Three years a Rogue
D’Alran settled himself into his chair and waited, eyes scanning the blackness of space. Nothing. Silence enveloped the bridge, broken only by the faint sounds of the ice spreading across his canopy; its ghostly fingers flickering across the glass.
It’s been three years since he turned rogue, three years without the shackles of bureaucracy holding him back. Three years delivering true justice to illegal slavers, freeing those unable to free themselves.
There. A star flickered out of existence for a second, then another. His body tensed as he brought the ship up to full power.
Time to make a difference.
D’Alran settled himself into his chair and waited, eyes scanning the blackness of space. Nothing. Silence enveloped the bridge, broken only by the faint sounds of the ice spreading across his canopy; its ghostly fingers flickering across the glass.
It’s been three years since he turned rogue, three years without the shackles of bureaucracy holding him back. Three years delivering true justice to illegal slavers, freeing those unable to free themselves.
There. A star flickered out of existence for a second, then another. His body tensed as he brought the ship up to full power.
Time to make a difference.
D’Alran... is that the great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandson of D'Artagnan?
No, but his great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Granny lived next door to D'Artagnan.
Let sleeping rogues lie
It was already dark: the nearest star lost among the dim, scattered specs.
The large object in front did nothing to brighten the mood either.
"Is it an abandoned station? You can just make out the chamfered sides."
"It's certainly big enough. Use the lights."
The quartz-like surface refracted and absorbed the illuminations.
The octagonal shape retained its mystery. Any evidence of access, concealed.
"No idea. Scan it."
It woke.
Mottled grey light crawled along the edges.
It pitched back, offering a shorter profile. Beneath it, a pearlescent cloud coalesced.
Aware, miniature versions of itself swarmed towards the lone anaconda.
It was already dark: the nearest star lost among the dim, scattered specs.
The large object in front did nothing to brighten the mood either.
"Is it an abandoned station? You can just make out the chamfered sides."
"It's certainly big enough. Use the lights."
The quartz-like surface refracted and absorbed the illuminations.
The octagonal shape retained its mystery. Any evidence of access, concealed.
"No idea. Scan it."
It woke.
Mottled grey light crawled along the edges.
It pitched back, offering a shorter profile. Beneath it, a pearlescent cloud coalesced.
Aware, miniature versions of itself swarmed towards the lone anaconda.
A Rogue Story
The lone figure crept into the isolated landing bay. It's target a sidewinder.
Over the last few weeks this sidewinders story had started to evolve into a myth, spreading throughout the galaxy.
As the figure tried to open the sidewinders hatch, three hidden rogues leapt into action, taking them down.
They searched the body looking for anything they could sell for a quick credit.
Disposing of the body, the rogues returned, pleased to know that more victims would fall for the fake story they had posted on Galnet.
And that's how the story of Hank Stone and the gold started.
The lone figure crept into the isolated landing bay. It's target a sidewinder.
Over the last few weeks this sidewinders story had started to evolve into a myth, spreading throughout the galaxy.
As the figure tried to open the sidewinders hatch, three hidden rogues leapt into action, taking them down.
They searched the body looking for anything they could sell for a quick credit.
Disposing of the body, the rogues returned, pleased to know that more victims would fall for the fake story they had posted on Galnet.
And that's how the story of Hank Stone and the gold started.
That's just great.
Didn't everybody's great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Granny live next door to D'Artagnan?
No, but his great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Granny lived next door to D'Artagnan.
Didn't everybody's great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Granny live next door to D'Artagnan?
Mine didn't, but my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Granny's brother (i.e. my great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Uncle) lived in the house 2 doors away from D'Artagnan. So there's a 50/50 chance, he lived next door to DocStone's great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great Granny, but on the other side to D'Artagnan. If he did that would be great.
Hank Stone... wasn't he the brother's nephew of the second removed cousin who was the father's uncle to DocStone's sister?
No, he was their pet dog who they also gave their surname to. It confuses people because when you say the name, people tend to think you are talking about a relative rather than a pet
Personally I think it was deliberate to spread confusion...No, he was their pet dog who they also gave their surname to. It confuses people because when you say the name, people tend to think you are talking about a relative rather than a pet
So it was the pet dog who allegedly ran off with the gold treasure?
Brings a whole new meaning to the command, "Fetch, boy!"
Ok, I'm going to stop messing around and get a drabble drabbled out. Since my storyline missed "Fashion", I've included it in this one.
When we last dropped off, we heard Rose say, "There's only one place dirty enough to take us in now. Plot a course for Lakota. We're visiting Simon in Winnard's Hole."
So without further adieu...
Sticky Situation
The bounty hunter's Fer-de-lance charged in, further crippling the Orca just 10,000km from Winnard's Hole. Rose made a call to a friend she hoped was in the area and a minute later, Bloodless the Rogue came out of nowhere, his Python driving the bounty hunter back out of the fight.
"Rose, I be missin' ya, but am glad ya showed. I be a bit down on me luck and need credits, ya understand?"
As the Orca glided into its dock, Rose was putting on makeup. Seamus glanced over, "Fashion tip for your date. Use more rouge. Bloodless likes it."
When we last dropped off, we heard Rose say, "There's only one place dirty enough to take us in now. Plot a course for Lakota. We're visiting Simon in Winnard's Hole."
So without further adieu...
Sticky Situation
The bounty hunter's Fer-de-lance charged in, further crippling the Orca just 10,000km from Winnard's Hole. Rose made a call to a friend she hoped was in the area and a minute later, Bloodless the Rogue came out of nowhere, his Python driving the bounty hunter back out of the fight.
"Rose, I be missin' ya, but am glad ya showed. I be a bit down on me luck and need credits, ya understand?"
As the Orca glided into its dock, Rose was putting on makeup. Seamus glanced over, "Fashion tip for your date. Use more rouge. Bloodless likes it."
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The Adventuring Party
See that Vulture above? That’s our party's Warrior. Likes to smash in, cause chaos, no mind for defence or aim. Not my style, guv.
Left's our Cleric, in his Cobra MkIII. Preachy, likes traditional tactics, always misty-eyed about the olden days. Sends me to sleep...
Below's the Anaconda, our resident Wizard. Got more utilities than you can shake a knobbly stick at. Proper tricked out, but lacking in subtlety.
Me? No, you won’t see me. I'm in my Eagle - silent, stealthy, and attacking you just where it hurts most. Dontcher know, guv? Rogues like doing it from behind.
See that Vulture above? That’s our party's Warrior. Likes to smash in, cause chaos, no mind for defence or aim. Not my style, guv.
Left's our Cleric, in his Cobra MkIII. Preachy, likes traditional tactics, always misty-eyed about the olden days. Sends me to sleep...
Below's the Anaconda, our resident Wizard. Got more utilities than you can shake a knobbly stick at. Proper tricked out, but lacking in subtlety.
Me? No, you won’t see me. I'm in my Eagle - silent, stealthy, and attacking you just where it hurts most. Dontcher know, guv? Rogues like doing it from behind.
The challenge we are setting you is to write a story in exactly 100 words. Not a word more. Not a word less.
Darren Grey won it last week and set us the topic of
ROGUES
The story should be set in the Elite Universe and the exact number of 100 words does not include the title. On Sunday the winner shall have the honour of choosing the next topic. Does anyone else fancy giving the hosting a go? I'll do it if nobody else steps forwards.
A good place to compose your story is recommended by Erik, http://www.wordcounter.net/
Entries to a poll will be limited to the first 20 Drabbles submitted, and the poll might go up early if all those slots are filled but don't let that stop you from showing us what you would have entered in the contest.
Please remember that this is a family forum We want as many people as possible to feel comfortable on this thread. Don't write anything that you wouldn't want to read out in front of your grandparent/grandchild.
Darren Grey won it last week and set us the topic of
ROGUES
The story should be set in the Elite Universe and the exact number of 100 words does not include the title. On Sunday the winner shall have the honour of choosing the next topic. Does anyone else fancy giving the hosting a go? I'll do it if nobody else steps forwards.
A good place to compose your story is recommended by Erik, http://www.wordcounter.net/
Entries to a poll will be limited to the first 20 Drabbles submitted, and the poll might go up early if all those slots are filled but don't let that stop you from showing us what you would have entered in the contest.
Please remember that this is a family forum We want as many people as possible to feel comfortable on this thread. Don't write anything that you wouldn't want to read out in front of your grandparent/grandchild.
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Nice one Splendour. It makes me think of all those people who mistype comments about that Star Wars game, Rogue Squadron
Inspired by Frank:
Bienvenue a Gram
Superintendent Roget sighed. Another bloody comedian. He hailed the Cobra. "Welcome to Gram, commander -- Ze gateway to Piscium Sector JY-Q A5-2."
"System Security, right?"
"Oui."
"So you're the Grammar Police?".
"Grammer Police. To be precise."
More stifled laughter. Roget's finger vellicated the fire button.
"Don't you feel ridic... re-diculous?"
"Non."
"It's not that big of a deal, right? Is this totally cliche, Captain Grammer?"
Roget examined his console. There was a way to hack the navcomm, if he could just remember... Ah. Yes.
The cobra turned red. Bingo.
"Goodbye commander." Roget smiled. "You've just gone rouge."
And pew followed pew.
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Twisted, I was so tempted to use your avatar for this week's Banner. Who plays better rogues than Terry Thomas
The Little Missile That Could
It was a dumb missile. Dumber because its brain was frazzled by an explosion behind it, as its owner's ship chrysanthemummed into a million bright pieces.
Black-Hearted Greebe deftly jinked clear of the missile.
The missile wasn't told to abort by its dead owner. It had forgotten to self-destruct after thirty minutes. It just continued straight ahead.
- - - - -
Parenthood had reformed Greebe. He'd used the money from his dubious past to build a mining business for his children. He wasn't even aware of the ancient missile heading for him. One minute he was out fixing his cargo scoop, the next, gone.
The Little Missile That Could
It was a dumb missile. Dumber because its brain was frazzled by an explosion behind it, as its owner's ship chrysanthemummed into a million bright pieces.
Black-Hearted Greebe deftly jinked clear of the missile.
The missile wasn't told to abort by its dead owner. It had forgotten to self-destruct after thirty minutes. It just continued straight ahead.
- - - - -
Parenthood had reformed Greebe. He'd used the money from his dubious past to build a mining business for his children. He wasn't even aware of the ancient missile heading for him. One minute he was out fixing his cargo scoop, the next, gone.
The Rogue Vote
A few burgers shy of morbid obesity, Tommy slowly glooped into his pilot chair.
He had messed up. Big time. It would not go unnoticed.
It was almost Monday. Results had been finalised.
He took solace from the galaxy map. Somewhere out there he could hide. He could start anew.
Why did they make the boxes so small? Stupid fat fingers.
Waypoint set. Before jumping he viewed the bulletin-board one last time, hoping he'd been mistaken.
No - there it was for all to see.
CdrTwisted had remained at 2.
But just above, horrifically:
TJ - A question of taste... 3 votes.
A few burgers shy of morbid obesity, Tommy slowly glooped into his pilot chair.
He had messed up. Big time. It would not go unnoticed.
It was almost Monday. Results had been finalised.
He took solace from the galaxy map. Somewhere out there he could hide. He could start anew.
Why did they make the boxes so small? Stupid fat fingers.
Waypoint set. Before jumping he viewed the bulletin-board one last time, hoping he'd been mistaken.
No - there it was for all to see.
CdrTwisted had remained at 2.
But just above, horrifically:
TJ - A question of taste... 3 votes.
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