ROLEPLAYING - Introduce your Commander

[SongMinKi]

<BEGIN TRANSMISSION>

I am Commander Song,

Captain of "The Agressor" Anaconda class light cruiser. My superiors in the Imperial navy insisted that I make introductions for diplomatic purposes. I was born on Capitol, in the Achenar system to a family of minor nobles. My father and his father before him have all served in the Imperial navy and therefore I followed their footsteps with pride. I started my career in the Imperial navy as a fighter pilot in the Imperial Fighter. Those machines were sleek, elegant and fast, but they are not without their flaws. After a year of distinguished service, I was promoted to the rank of Commander. I signed up with the Pilot's Federation as an Imperial detachment, therefore while I am of the Pilot's Federation, my loyalties will always lie with the Empire.

At first I solely commanded an Imperial Clipper class light corvette, but soon found myself in the bridge of an Anaconda class light cruiser. While the Anaconda is nowhere as elegant nor classy, I have to admire the practicality in its design. As of this moment I have been assigned to curb a civil war and to support the Imperial navy in the Carverda system, the details of my assignment I am not at liberty nor am I inclined to share. I am under the direct command of Senator Lavigny Duval as of this moment and i do not resent my assignment. Princess Aisling Duval is an idealist and I personally believe there is nothing wrong with the Imperial system of indentured servitude, or as some would call them , Imperial Slaves. Senator Torval means well, but I am a man of action and find myself better suited to combat assignments. While Senator Torval does important work, it is work best suited to the likes of contracted and freelancing merchants.

After the destruction of over ten thousand rebel vessels, I have been promoted to the rank of combat Elite in the Pilot's Federation and had my license renewed. However the pilot federation rank is of little meaning to me as the only thing that matters to me is the Imperial navy. While the recent power plays between senators have come to light, I'm inclined to state that while i am under senator Duval's assignment, my loyalty ultimately lies with the Emperor, who has supposedly made a recovery, I have not been back to the Achenar system in months so I do not actually know if the news are true. Should the Emperor require my service in bringing the senator squabbles to an end, I will do my duty to the Empire, not to Senator Duval.

Glory to the Empire, and long live the Emperor.

Commander Song

<END TRANSMISSION>

 

[Dillontheman]

Deimos Anderson was a man first and foremost described as practical, having been raised only until he was old enough to find sustenance for himself. His father was a smuggler, who after sneaking some military grade weapons onto Levi-Montalcini city, had found a naive young woman to occupy his time for the night. After laying the seed from which Deimos would sprout, the man was never to be seen again.

Deimos mother, Adara, kept the baby, her naivity leaving her to believe that the smuggler would one day return to care for her and the little one both. This of course was a doomed hope, and by Deimos' seventh year, Adara had lost all of it. Blaming Deimos for a life of struggle (being unprepared for the responsibility of a child), she disappeared, whether to another station or into the void was not known.

Deimos quickly became used to a lifestyle on his own, even as a young one in the unforgiving system of Yakabugai. He almost preferred the independence to the harsh treatment he received from his mother. As a child it was not hard for him to stowaway on ships he knew were bound for systems that had abundances of resources, and did this through the age of 12.

One day, while aboard the ship of a freelance spacer by the name of Alioth Draxx, he was discovered. Deimos had grown too large to hide in the cargo holds and avoid detection, and a toe stuck out from behind a canister of Artwork meant for a black market in the Eravate system.

Alioth, a gentle natured man who had always wanted a child but was either too sterile, or too ugly to father one, decided to take the boy in, and raise him to be a spacer as well.

The two made successful runs of slaves, weapons, artwork, narcotics (even rolling and lighting a few kilos to themselves towards their latter years together) for quite a time. So successful were they, that on his 19th year, Deimos was gifted a Sidewinder with two pulse lasers, and the title of Alioth's official wingmate.

Deimos' (and Alioth's...) luck ran dry a few years following... During a routine smuggling of weapons into Eravate's Cleve Hub, Deimos was scanned by a federal agent in a heavily armed Viper. Alioth was there to help, but the arrival of three more feds seemed to vanish all hope of their surviving thee instance.

It was at this point that Deimos heard over his comm, "You've got longer to go than I have, son. This is your last chance to get the hell outta here."

Deimos, although torn at the thought of losing the only other person who had shown him love, was too practical to miss this chance, and never had the Sidewinder's computer voice sounded so cold and less human as during the countdown where he watched Alioth's Cobra blip vanish from his radar.

To this day, Deimos is a wanted man and a reliable smuggler (although he would prefer the term Capitalist), moving slaves, narcotics, weapons, artwork, what have you, for the expected price of a high rate smuggler.

The most important part of this story, however, is yet to unfold....

(If you enjoyed, look for a topic containing the continued chronicles of Deimos Anderson)

 

[RanbowTrout]

Well...good to see you all. Names S'Aeth. Strange name. Don't ask where it comes from - I don't know myself. Fast, light cargo transport and Twilight Zone charting specialist, at your service. Need goods moved and prefer to avoid any...Federal Entanglements? Look no further, provided I haven't jetted off into The Black, that is. Need the location of an unexplored system full of Metal-Rich Worlds and juicy asteroids sitting on the Empire's doorstep. Give me a week or two, and I'll have plenty for you. Feds need not bother, and I make an exception for slaves. Been out of that business for a while now.

Where am I from? That doesn't matter, does it? I've got reasonable ratings, and a good success record. Want to know anything else, buy me a drink. Or two.

Cheers!

Right, where was I? The past?

Started out on some God-forsaken station on the edge of Fed space. Fell in with the wrong crowd. Did a little...aggressive wealth re-distribution. Got a little bounty. With my poor combat rating, it might as well have been a massive target over my head.

Oh, my parents? Nothing much to talk about there. A pair of mechanics, nothing special. Normal. Ordinary. Dull.

Grandpa, though. I remember he gave me this book. An actual book! With PAPER pages. Complete Works of Shakespeare, whoever he was. Good stuff. Lent it to a Budget Bowman friend when he took off into the Black. Running up to the Coalsack, not anything long. He was due back three months ago. Haven't heard a thing. For all I know, he's still got it. Or the idiot's died somewhere and I'll never get it back.

Anyway. Ran into The Black. Got the Bug pretty bad myself.

Came to the Empire. Sold the exploration data - some juicy stuff too - and brought the Lady. A Cobra. Fast and quiet - she's pretty much a set of massive engines with a bit of hull and some cargo racks strapped on the front. That girl gets me into far too much trouble.

Did trade runs (entirely legitimate, I swear.) Slaves go out, Tobacco comes back. Even ran goods for the Imperial Navy a few times. Everything's rosy. 'Till I had a crisis of conscience, anyway. Helped by a nice Clipper Commander from Senator Aisling Duval's fleets. Amazing how fast you can change your outlook when you're staring down a cannon barrel. The amazing bit is that I stuck by what I said then. Well, except this one time, but that was a job I was on for the Navy. The guy's with the guns asking me to move some hot stuff, well...too funny to refuse.

That's about it. Not sure there's much more to say. Certainly nothing that matters. You certainly don't want to hear about the trips to the tourist spots. Betelgeuse, The Loop, that sort of stuff.

What am I up to now? Why would you care?

Sorry, is that the time? I really must be going. See you in the Long Dark, folks. I'm off to the pub.

 

[bronywonderbolt]

Dvore aspiring imperialist stuck in federation space(due to the game crashing when you near empire space ports) working odd jobs and looking for a wing. But seriously message me if you want to meet gamer tage badboy6295

 

[Reaper99]

Commander Ed "Reaper" Hubert

Well since the drinks are free here, and my throats fairly lubricated, I feel in the mood for a bit of talking which is rare for me. You see aside from the fast touch and goes at a station for a stretch, drink, and some womanly company...and not in that order perzactly ...I've a common tale that you may find to your liking, but as of yet unfinished. I'll answer a few questions in a sec. Let me just start at the beginning...or close enough to it to not matter <sly grin>.

Was born..out there...well alright guess it ain't no sin to tell that much< don't even use my given name no more>, born in and abouts the Reidquat system think on Marshall Dock if I recollect.

Mom...well she was a lady fast as an FDL and had the lines of one of them Empire couriers and the attitude of a Python...and a profession girl(if ya know what I mean) ...<hand starts to slide towards the low slung holster built for fast draws with a black as midnight Walther PP43 energy repeater with well used ivory grips> now don't get no ideas sonny jim...its one thing to be truthful about ones parentage...its another thing to snicker or slight me fer it<stated in a quiet voice>.

Now my pops on the other hand was one of them quiet self assured types that didn't act to fancy, but you could tell he weren't one to be trifled with...always had that coiled snake waiting to spring looks about him or maybe it was just that air of energy waiting to be focused...either way most gave dad a wide birth if they weren't on friendly terms with him...by that I mean to say one of maybe 10 people he called friend that was still livin...if there were more I never heard him talk about em. Anyhow..short of it...Dad was head over heels for mom...mom being a professional lady liked him well enough I suppose...don't know her real well to tell the truth but..well she ended up with me from there occational meetings...Dad spent a lot of time in space or witch space depending....anyhow the story was she presented me to him on one of his return trips first chance she got...guess I was about 3 then...said I was his...I'm sure he wasn't so sure...and there happened to be a fella there on station that swore I was his...short of this story...there was a fight...remember how I said coiled snake...energy to be focused...well before you knew it, it was like them ole vids...dad was a blur...had his gun out and was rapping the engine monkey on the head....guess a ship mech has a hard head...and can't say he wasn't tough...he didn't go down right away...guess dad didn't feel the need fer killin at that point as he coulda just shot him now that I'm looking back...but there was a King size fight...Dad not really getting much on the receiving end...well guess the wrench jockey had had enough and got real serious real fast...and turned what was a friendly disagreement serious...he reached for dads gun to use on him and the next thing I know ...dads twisting like a sidewinder and snapping the guys neck...<takes a long pull off the bottle> to be continued.

 

[Reaper99]

hmm now back to my story...well come to find out my pops was an imperial...seems like a mucky muck of some sort..<snorts> guess that makes me one to somehow or another...now don't get this common talk for someone lacking in education...I just like to keep things simple and with less pretention. seems he was one of those one percenters called elite in hushed whispers...he seemed pretty normal to me albeit very talented in a ship...well he took me from the station...they don't like imperials there obviously...guess more so lately..anyhow...he had a bounty on him for the killing though it was justified...and well he took one look at me and grinned, if mom wasn't in love with him she was stupid...his eyes lit up like those signs outside of stations and he ruffled my hair and said..."well boy...looks like its you and me against the stars, we will see first hand if we are family"...he hauled me up in his arms and took off for the docks. still remember my first look at that cobra...man she still gives me the chills...I fell in love that day...her name was Sun Dancer...one of my dads favorites...he was fond of saying.

I'm gonna skip forward in time a bit and give refrence to dad...

Well as it is ...along the way I grew up...dad didn't dump me...on the contrary he took me home to the Empire seat...introduced me ...didn't go well...grandfather saying something about children and the throne and all that...Dads eyes narrowed and for a minute I thought of that PP43 slung low...he took my hand...gentle and told grandfather...I was his son and the proof wasn't in his parentage but in his heart and that he was every bit what a son should be...now I gotta say...there was not a moment in my life that I could recall being so proud to be his son...won't be going into names here ...suffice it to say...my dad was no small diplomat or third rate count...but that aint my story...dad loved me and that was that...despite what people may think about imperials...Dad was not an uncaring person...on the contrary he was a very gentle spoken and caring person...full of passion for "good" people...

He had me trained and schooled as I should be according to imperial royal edict<never did figure that out>...I was learning to fly when I wasn't at "home" in school...I was sitting in the Co seat in my dads two favorite ships...Sun Dancer ...and Noche Diablo...or translated from some relic from way back...Night Devil...his FDL....When I hit 18 and passed my pilots exam...<yes we do have them>..he started letting me take "the old mans ship" for small runs and stuff...just local mind you...then the war broke out...boy did I have delusions of grandeur...I wanted to be just like dad..Elite and all, as I said dad was an Elite...it was said one of the best combat pilots in the core...he didn't speak of it much but would get that million mile stare...then shake his head and grin and tell me "you will blaze your own path".....well I enlisted...seems the empire and feds always need "qualified" pilots...

thought dad would be proud...came in with a shiney new uniform and lt bars to boot< I forgot to mention...I scored well in placement>...he went thru the roof...tellin me I didn't understand and that it was a waste to go and kill or be killed because of some local scuffle that would be dicided in a month...we had words...I left in a huff...I had to prove myself...had to be as good as him...Had to be worthy of my dads pride and confidence in me...

Well he was right...6mnths...war over...I survived...made my local mark...got rep for being a natural on the stick like my dad...and it went to my head...yup...young and dumb...said the story wasn't original...anyhow...I continued to be good at it...and I ranked pretty fast....then the day came I was knighted in the imperial navy...dad sent a holo to come home for "family matters"

An assassin had tried to kill dad...dad even at 68 was deadly it seems...age didn't seem to touch him and he was still doing what he does...anyhow...I came...thought he would still be upset ...it had been 10 years scince I last saw him...I stepped up on his FDL which he spent most of his time in...and he rushed and grabbed me for the biggest hug I'd ever gotten from him...his eyes seemed a bit moist ...must have been the glare in the station...we went aboard and he said he had news from grandfather...I was to start working in the private sector...I thought I was getting slapped in the face...my father just grinned bigger...he then explained....

I'm titled now...albeit in tha navy and only a knight...but now I can be useful to the family...and I had made a name somewhat for myself...I was to start moving about the empire...find a worthy patronage...work to help unify the family and the empire< sure>...anyhow dad gave me the long and short of it..then told me...he was proud. And the only other advice he thought was worth more than money..."Son a man is not what he was born to...nor is he what he comes from...A man is the sum total of what he believes in, what he loves, who he loves, and what he is willing to kill for and if needed die for" ..the path one takes isn't about where you are...its about who and what you stand for that will define you...mistakes can be learned from if you live to learn...Elite is just a word...its who carries the title that makes it mean anything otherwise it is meaningless.

That was another 10 years ago...and here we are...I'm not an Elite yet...will be there soon I'm sure...but I believe I understand my Dad now...and where ever he is at this time...I hope when we see each other again...I am not the boy he was proud of...but now a man who he proud to know and Love...

I've learned don't fight to just fight but fight for a cause that is right...don't kill if you can find a better way...and protect the "good" people...Currently I'm a bounty hunter...and I only chase those that have broke the law...I am not a lowly assassin ...I will not come for you in your sleep...I will not hunt you due to religious or political views...but if the innocent look for justice...if one pirates and kills for sport...there will be a bounty...and I will hunt...

I've been spaced...have had my ship shot out from under me more than once...but haven't had to suck final vacuum yet and hope to not do so for a very long time...but that's that...the story still unfolding...oh one final thing

Dads last gift before he went wherever he had to go in Noche Diablo...a simple note...I love you son...Love her like I have...the passkey to....Sun Dancer....my first love!

well that's enuff talking...and thanks for the ear...

 

[Commander Grayson Amory]

...mother, Alicia Rey, a low level prostitute...

I hear if she grinds just a little bit more she should be able to level up.

 

[SNaomiScott]

++ CMDR 'CONCUBINE' : LOG ENTRY 33010724-001 ++

Hello? Is this thing working?

Okay, so where do I start? I guess I should maybe tell you a little bit about myself, and about how I ended up ferrying cargo around in the ass-end of nowhere on the edge of civilised space. Is that what you want?

Well I could do that, but then I'd have to kill you, as the old joke goes. The truth is, the less you know about my past the better. All you really need to know is that I didn't start out a cargo-monkey, and don't plan on staying one for too long neither. As it stands I've already got me a few ships to choose from, including a pretty shiny Diamondback Explorer that's just waiting for a few upgrades. Not bad for someone who officially didn't exist two weeks ago, huh?

Yeah, you heard that right. Two weeks ago I was someone else. I'm not telling you who I was, or why I had to do the old identity-shuffle. You'll just have to believe me when I tell you that it was for the right reasons, at least as far as I'm concerned. There might be some out there who take a different view on the matter, but that's something you'd have to take up with them, not me.

So anyway, here I am, and this I guess is my journal. If I'm doing things right then it won't be any more interesting than commodity prices and trade routes, though given the last six months or so there may be a few interesting diversions popping up every now and then. Who knows?

That's it. Now how do I stop this fu*-

++ END OF LOG ENTRY ++



[OOC: Further log entries will be posted to LiveJournal from here on in, so feel free to tune in and catch up when you can. If there are any other Commanders here who also use LiveJournal then let me know and I'll add you to my Friend List.]

 

[Alex Traut]

Registered CMDR: Alex Traut
Registered Primary Vesssel: IEV Uneventful Horizon [Asp-class Explorer]
Full Name: Alexander Matthew Traut
Citizenship: Empire, Alliance
DOB: 07 March 3274
POB: Achenar

I'm named after my grandfather--and I wish I weren't.

Let's not mince words: he was a pirate. One of the Elite, sure, but a pirate all the same. Dress it up in whatever euphemisms you like, he made his name as much by murder as by plying distant trade routes. People like him are the reason why so many traders in the Bubble still--two centuries later!--get nervous whenever they see a Cobra MkIII with unknown intentions.

My father and I had to find this out the hard way, of course. We lived a life of luxury on an estate deep in the heart of the Empire--luxury that was funded by my grandfather's blood-soaked fortune. We had everything: the best education and medical care money could buy, both for ourselves and for our slaves--some of whom were like family. Titles, ships, money... we wanted for nothing. Nothing except the truth, it seems.

Oh, I knew he was an Elite pilot, and that he'd made his fortune in space. For my 12th birthday, the old man took me out in a Cobra and began training me himself, and let me tell you--when you get in the cockpit with an Elite, you will know it. He never even touched the flight assist, and he made that ship dance in ways I wouldn't believe from its specs. One of the most valuable lessons he drilled into me was to never assume you know another ship's full capabilities, even after scanning them.

Love of space seemed to have skipped a generation--I was obsessed with it, wanted nothing more than to get out there and see things no one had ever seen before. My dad had never liked my grandfather, something I didn't really understand at the time. He voiciferously opposed my pilot training, urging me to remain on Achenar and help run the family business. This, of course, just made me that much more eager to get in the pilot's seat whenever I could--really, I don't know why parents expect any other reaction to that kind of heavy-handed pressure.

So what happened?

Karma, if you believe in that sort of thing.

People in the Empire have very, very long memories, and family is very important to us. We never forget a slight, or any harm done to one of our own. It must have been over 100 years since my grandfather blew up the CCC Lusitania, but apparently one of its passengers was a relative of someone who is now very influential at Court. Now a Baroness, she spent decades backtracking the incident and gathering evidence against the perpetrator. Like all major powers, the Empire is happy to turn a blind eye to piracy--as long as you're in their favor. The moment you're not... suddenly everything you have ever done gets dragged out into the light and put under a microscope. And the light was not kind to my grandfather's legacy.

And just like that, it was over. My grandfather was executed, and the family name was disgraced--we were stripped of all titles and holdings, every one of our sponsors and "friends" distancing themselves quickly. My father committed suicide out of shame, and the powers-that-be were debating what they ought to do with me--a kid barely past 14 who hadn't committed these crimes, but who'd spent a lot of time with the person who had.

I saved them the trouble. I went before Baroness Dresden, whose family my grandfather had wronged, and begged her to allow me to make restitution and cleanse my disgrace by serving them as a slave.

And there I served, from the remainder of my childhood years well into my mid-20s. Ten years I served the Baroness and her family, ten years that could not possibly measure up to the years stolen from her cousin. They saw the value in the training my grandfather had given me, and were impressed with my integrity--so they put me to work as a pilot, first hauling goods, and then eventually piloting the custom-built Orca in which the Baroness liked to travel.

There is a certain dignity and peace to be found in honorable servitude. It is nothing so crude as chains and shock collars, the bruises and horror that defines slavery outside the Empire. It is a choice, a path like any other. The Baroness would have been horrified to hear of anyone striking or otherwise mistreating one of her slaves, and despite the injury my family had done to hers, she treated me little different than her own grandchildren.

Then, on my 25th birthday, I received a summons to her audience hall. There I was informed that I had more than repaid my grandfather's blood debt, and that I was free to make my own way. That day was the second time that I wept on account of parting with family. A Sidewinder was pocket change to her; that and a tiny stipend were her parting gift for years of loyal, honorable service.

I'm damn good in the cockpit--far better than my combat rating with the Pilot's Federation might imply. My education and upbringing made the commodities market easy to ply, and it didn't take me long to earn a proper nest egg. But the dreams of my childhood stayed with me--as did the hard lesson of my grandfather's path in life. I didn't want to kill, though I've been forced to do so, nor did the drudgery of trading appeal to me. I wanted to see what was out there in the galaxy, and a part of me still wanted to atone for everything my grandfather had done. As you can probably tell, his shadow still looms large over my life even to this day. His crimes are still a taint on my soul.

So now I explore, spending weeks at a stretch out in the distant black, returning to the Bubble only long enough to sell the survey data. I signed up with an outfit called the Fuel Rats, and every time I save a stranded traveler--no matter who they are, or who they're pledged to--I feel like I get a little bit of my soul back.

One rescuee at a time.

 

[CMDR Shane Kannigan]

Thoughts on this thread: IGN 10/10 would read again and introduce again.

Name: CMDR Shane Kahnnigan
Current System: Kremainn
Combat Rank: Expert
Ship: CMS Spitfire

Bio:

Shane was born in one of the countless planets under the Federation's control. He grew up in a common family of miners and engineers. His father was his idol and he was the reason Shane grew a liking for ships and piloting. As soon as he could, he went to flight school and got his Commander and pilot licence. He decided to go from zero to hero, like many other pilot did before him. At his 21st birthday, his family gifted him his first spacecraft: A white Eagle Mk II.

He took off to the void and started his journey. At first, he tried to earn some money by delivering cargo, too scared to engage any type of combat. He didn't want his family's gift to be destroyed or damaged. He continued to wonder around with his boring and low wage job until he found Kremainn. That little gem of a system. He had gotten better in piloting, and his confidence with how to properly use a noble fighter like a Eagle was enough for him to drop his courrier job and begin the route of combat and bounty hunting.

He found a heavily frequenced resource extraction site near Kremainn 4a, with a starport orbiting the planet. He went in there and watched as many miners were threatened by pirates for their cargo. He soon started a fight after a Cobra Mk III tried to rob him, even without cargo.

The next weeks were the happiest in his life. Kill after kill, a huge amount of money in bounties flooded his wallet. He continued huning in that location, day after day. With all his earnings, once his old Eagle couldn't carry him into a fight anymore, he bought a Viper. Then, he soon upgraded to a Vulture.

Each time he flew in his new five million credits ship he thought back at the old Eagle in the hangar. He knew his journey was still at the beginning. He wanted to aim high. He wanted to be able to fly a Fer the Lance: His favourite ship since it's release on the market. Sure, he might be some kind of coky jerk, his friends at the pub calling him 'Spitfire' because of his hot head behaviour and bad habit to fight bigger and more powerful ships all alone and barely managing to win...but he liked it.

The tale of his life as a bounty hunter reached even the ears of the furthest outpost's citizens. He soon was considered an ally of the federation, always working with the Security, even though he really didn't care less for what politicians did or their continuous power play at all, never understanding how the whole allied status worked. His ship soon took his nickname and became know in the system when Shane faced an Anaconda alone for the first time. The Federals showed up to help him, but his shields failed and his ship took a beating. With his thrusters offline and a breached canopy, Shane thought it was the end. He managed to reboot all the systems and take down the wanted ship by shooting at his reactors.

He barely managed to get to the station, his thrusters malfunctioning and spitting fire as he entered the hangar and docked. With only six seconds of oxygen and some bruises he became one of the famous hunters of the system. Everyone always asked him why he didn't run once his thrusters recovered. His reply was simple:

"Eh...good question. That thought he could take me. I don't know, to be honest. I guess I snapped because he was kicking my ass and wanted revenge. Besides, I never leave work unfinished, and he was worth the trouble."

From that moment, His ship would be only known as 'Spitfire' for the amount of fire it produced while almost on the verge of explosion. He was addressed as "Lucky Guy" from his friends and continued to rack up money to achieve his goal.



Some say he still gets into trouble. Some others say his hot head will get him killed fast. But he's still there. Still hunting, moving from system to system to track and kill most wanted pilots. And some say he'd actually search some other pilots to go with him. He didn't seem a lone wolf. And everybody at Wohler Terminal knew Shane's catchphrase: "Take a friend with you and double the fun"

But if he referred to a person or another pair of class 3 plasma accelerators it's another story.

(Long ass wall of text...I think I kinda overdid it a little XD)

 

[Syax]

CMDR Corbin Kai Syax was not always known by this name and has gone to great length to keep his true identity hidden.
Originally one of three brothers born into the fairly high echelons of imperial royalty, his actual birth place was in Rasmussen in 3264, Whilst his parents were on a diplomatic visit, meeting with the dictator of that system.
This fact stuck to him as a permanent reminder that, despite His family heritage coming from the Cemiess system, and his home world being that of Emerald, he would always be the third child who was born in some backwater hole.

His father was an arrogant, cold hearted megalomaniac who spent most of his time putting him down and dissolving his confidence for some kind of masochistic self gratification. This vile persona did not stop at just his family and he was infamous within the empire.

Years of resentment followed until he reach an age where he was brave enough to leave. He had stolen some rare artwork from the family home and used it to trade passage out of Imperial Space. Little did he realise that he could simply have walked out...nobody would have stopped him let alone cared. Not now that his mother had passed away. She at least, had once taken some small interest in him.

Syax spent many years in the vastness of space, making the Atagat system his home. Though he never allied himself to any faction and had always tried to avoid anything or anyone who had a connections to the empire... until recently.
In the last few years, The Duvals had taken over the remnants of his cursed family's status after it's complete collapse.
Murder, betrayal and finally the death of his father where the capsules of news he heard through the Galnet. By whom? he cared not.

He had vague memories of Duval Princess running about as a child where he once lived, so, maybe they engineered his family's destruction though association. If this were to be true, then perhaps they have now freed him. With his thanks. Now for the first time in years has ventured back closer to his old home world, in imperial governed space.

He is a highly pessimistic, solitary individual who despite his ability and longevity in space, has never teamed up with any other CMRDs and has simply remained a silent shadow in the black backdrop of void. Like a double edged sword, he is capable of great compassion yet terrible volatility.

Often found guarding mining vessels, tormenting pirates, protecting trade routes and making donations when possible to any lost cause he falls upon.
Sometime he will visits his old home world to attain some kind of window in to himself, a clearer picture of his beginnings. And although he does tend to seem somewhat uncomfortable around Imperials, he shows no ill will towards them, even towards the Duval family. Perhaps wishing he had been born to them instead.

He also spends a lot of time in The Thargoid and Fer-de-Lance bar, sitting in the corner with his expensive Earth-imported Sake, simply listening. His only fix of social interaction in the cold, empty, vastness of space. How he has not been swallowed up by this darkness yet, who knows. How do any of us commanders keep our sanity? One for the road and another 10 bottles just in case?

 

[Commander Grayson Amory]

Grayson was one of the lucky ones. Despite the cutthroat nature of the galaxy, his family was relatively well off. He grew up in Federation space where his parents worked at the local station. His father was a mechanic and his mother ran the control booth. The station wasn’t nearly as busy as some of the bigger ports, but it saw its fair share of pilots coming and going.

Grayson learned to work hard from his father and to pay attention to detail from his mother. He wasn’t ever the top of his class, but the two principles on which he was raised helped him to come closer to his goals every year. His parents always supported the boy no matter what turn his “career goals” took. Whether he thought he wanted to join the Fuel Rats and help rescue stranded pilots or if he wanted to become a Senator, his parents smiled and encouraged him. But as he grew older and the pieces came together before his eyes, he found his calling as a pilot. The mechanical aptitude from watching his father and understanding of port protocol gained from his mother came together in a way that he could only see one endgame. He had to become a pilot.
Once Grayson found this passion, he began to attend the necessary courses with a sort of religious fervor. He was recognized for his work ethic, attention to detail, and of course, his achievements in class. Grayson was destined for the stars.

It was during his time at the academy that Grayson met Maryth. Unlike him, she had no interest in ascending into the stars. But her interests, grounding as they may be, still caused Grayson to gravitate to her. Grayson never ceased to study, but he certainly became infatuated in a way that essentially mass locked him to the ground. Maryth owned a local Theater/Art Exhibit. She held classes for local students both young and old. Grayson admired her passion and her abilities as a teacher. He even ventured so far as to take a few private lessons.

Despite the strength of his feelings for Maryth, Grayson had already chosen his path. There was no other course but finish his training and ascend to the stars. The two vowed fidelity to one another and married a week before Grayson’s graduation. He swore that he would always come home when he could and he meant it. For he genuinely believed that she outshined the stars in a way he simply could not ignore.

Upon completion of his courses, he received a small sidewinder with generic modules pre-installed. This would be the beginning of his legacy. Billions of star systems lay before him, just within his grasp. The places he would see, the cargo he would deliver, and the blood he would spill all lie ahead of him as he bid farewell to his parents. The anxiety of leaving his innocence behind filled his mind with racing thoughts. His parents teared up as they waved goodbye from the control tower and he gave a quick salute. Maryth stood beside them and blew him a discreet kiss.

The on board computer stated, “Ship Released, Engines Engaged. Landing Gear Retracted” and he didn’t hesitate to blast off into the sky. It was now time for him to learn….and most importantly, to live.

 

[luksm23]

Dr. Max Shradre Pt. 2 of 6

The Black has a way of changing you the longer you stay out in it. After a while it becomes comfortable. When you look out into the void through your cockpit for endless days, weeks, months, you begin to feel that The Black is peaceful and unchanging. Quiet. Calming. The truth is, of course, that everything out there is a deadly, chaotic mess that will end you in a heartbeat. Still...when I look out onto the Face of the Deep, my troubles, my stresses, my victories, my defeats...myself...all of it--it all seems so small. For me, looking out at The Black puts things in perspective. It reassures me...The only feeling that comes near it was when I turned into my driveway after a long shift and saw my home and when I opened the front door to see my beautiful wife. Her smile....She is dead now. I killed her in a fit of passion when I caught her and my friend in bed together...and my home I abandoned. The Black is my home now. When I look back on things, I find this situation, and my feelings toward outer space completely absurd. In my former life I despised space travel. I hated Space. I had to take calming medications to even set foot on orbital shuttles or in-system transports. During our Honeymoon my wife and rented an Orca and pilot to take us about the stars for three weeks. I hated it. Now, Space is my home--The Black is, quite possibly, the only thing that keeps me sane, as the life of a Slaver/Independent trader/Smuggler is not one of normalcy. Every day could be my last as I struggle to tread water, to stay in the black and away from the red as I try to build up a nest egg. Trust me...when you see 1.5 million creds vanish as quickly as it takes a Limpet to pry into your cargo-hold and take it, you will feel like tearing your hair out or eating a bullet. The Black is the only thing that has saved me...in more ways than one.

 

[tiger61378]

Greetings Commanders. CMDR Tiger61378 here, offering an explanation of why I'm out in this galaxy. A few hundred years ago, there was a series of wars against sentient AI, which led to our supposed destruction...but reports of our demise are surely false. I am one of the survivors. As a synthdroid assassin, I was designed by the AI to infiltrate human organizations, and only part of a massive series to come off of my assembly line. Somewhere along the way (my circuits were partially fried during the war when the plant where I was produced was attacked and destroyed) my memories were mostly wiped, and I was disabled until a few months ago. When I came back online thanks to some scavengers who found the plant's remains on an unnamed moon far from inhabited space, well...let's just say that the galaxy is well rid of that scum. I used their ship's computer to find out more about the current galactic status, and since my AI was advanced enough to allow me something resembling free will and decision making capabilities, I realized that the best way to blend into the new galaxy I found myself in was to head to LHS 3447's platforms, join the pilot's federation, and blend in with all of the other commanders. Fortunately for me, nobody seemed to notice that I was a droid, and just thought I'd had some poor facial reconstruction surgery (my organics had not held up well over the centuries), so I was granted my licence and my Sidewinder. Since that time, I've spent some time bumming around the galaxy doing odd trading, smuggling, and mining jobs...right up until rumors of a new AI power started spreading out. Drawn to my kind, I headed for HIP 16607 and joined up with Red Dice Systems, to learn more about the possible AI running things at Thome Gateway. This organization is truly for me, since they have no issues with who and what I am, and have made me the head of their Exploration department, as I had decided to abandon the combat routines in my programming in favor of heading out to learn more about the galaxy I live in. Currently I'm around 4,000 light years out from my new home in my Diamondback Explorer, the Endless Transit, and heading back home as some of my more aggressive programming is beginning to reassert itself. I feel that I must go back to killing for a while...but I will kill with purpose, ridding the galaxy of criminal scum as a bounty hunter when I return home, before heading back out into the solitude of the void when my urges have passed.

 

[KellyR]

Gun runners and drug mules and slavers, oh my!

//Begin RP//
My name is Cmdr. Kelly Rayburn. My ma was a do gooder who got cocky and died in the wreckage of a Python may her atoms ROT in space! Well, I ain't no do gooder. I'm a stone cold gold digger. I'll haul anything that makes me a lot of money. I'd pirate, but pirating doesn't pay near as much as trading and smuggling. I've been called a slave trader, a drug runner, a gun runner. And it's the honest truth. I'm all of those things. I make no excuses for the life I live. I'll run slaves, either Imperial or unregulated. I'll run guns, drugs, gold, palladium or any other damn thing that pays big money.

I know what you're thinking. This bi*ch has no conscience. You say that like it's a bad thing. I really don't have a conscience. Having a conscience gets in the way of profit. For me nothing gets in the way of profit. I'm going to get a Python just like dear old Ma, but I won't take crazy chances and I won't be afraid to run.

Edit: I got my Python. And I pity these poor incompetent fools who pull me out of cruise just to try to steal my goods. But I don't pity them enough to let them live. But a fellow Pilot's Federation pilot, I'll give some cargo to so long as he doesn't ask too much. And if he does ask too much, I can always high wake out as I always submit to interdiction. I actually pity these Commanders who've chosen piracy. They don't make near as much as I do. I don't mind sharing a bit. Just don't get greedy and we'll be fine.
//End RP//

 

[Totos]

Greeteings commanders My name is CMDR Totos i was born in 3232 in the gateway system when i grew up i became a trader in my lanner after some years trading i was quite wealthy then i heard that the thargoids returned after some Jameson guy gave them some vaccine so i decided to find the thargoid homeworld my self i sold my Panther Clipper and bought a top of the line imperial explorer that thing was great for the time , 2 large plasma accelerators , shields, auto repair unit, naval missiles, and the fuel scoop. So i started my journey in the fall of 3256 but after some months of traveling. Yes i said months back then we didnt have those fancy frameshift drives we used a thing called hyperspace and it was only for travel between systems not for inter system travel so for that we used the regular engines. These were the good ol' days. So moving on after some months the drive broke down and missjumped! We were officialy lost in space but thankfully we had a fuel scoop so we scooped fuel from the gas giants and stars if there were no gas giants. However since we wrere lightyears away from the nearest human settlement we could not fully repair the drive and systems. So the drive was missjumping frequently up to 3 times a year, but we were lucky the missjump put us right in the middle of human space in the system of Lave but we were attacked by a pirate in what appeared to be a strange viper we were attacked and our shields colapsed we took hull damage and our hull was at 5% when we managed to hit him with the large plasma accelerator and 3 missiles and turned his ship into scrap. We used some of that scrap to fix the hull auto repair system and our hull was fixed but most of the decks were a total mess and the hydrogen drive/power plant (yes back then the drive was also the power plant) was missing some coils so we scavanged the wreck for wireing in order to make some electromgnet coils for the engine. We were lucky the pirate had some copper and gold wireing, we used the wires to make the coils and off we were. But since cold and copper aren't superconductors the drive was overheating at 100% so we had to turn it off at times for it to cool off 25 days later we found lave station lave station and docked inside in the year 3296. After docking we were treated for radiation poisoning, due to the reactor shielding wearing down due to age and cosmic radiation, for radiation induced cancer and poisoning becouse the air in the ship was poisoned with heavy metals and other chemicals. I was the only one who survived the rest of the crew passed away.And my ship was too dangerous and outdated to fly so it is in storage, i still visit it from time to time. Now in 3301 i am still a spacer becouse it is the only life i know. Now all i hope is to finaly meet those thargoids.

 

[OamodSias]

<ooc>

This is the opening post of something I've decided to try.
I love the idea of RP, but I'm not good at it with other people.
Instead, I've chosen to start a fresh new save and on my G+ site I've created a collection I've called (tentatively) "The Tale of Kishi Tatsu."
It's the story of a failed mercenary with a dark, mysterious history that he's trying to run away from after having his ship destroyed.
As I unfold his story, I'll flesh out his back-story as I go; I have a vague idea of what I want but we'll see as the story progresses.
Posts are in real time - meaning that as I think of an event, or if something happens I write about it.

Something I'd eventually like to do is if I get enough people following the tale,
I'd put up a poll and see which path I should take, which decisions need to be made, etc.
For example, I'd put up a simple Yes or No about whether or not to take on an assassination mission.
Followers of the story would get to decide whether I will take it, or I won't and ultimately act as my fate.
The decisions followers make will ultimately shape my character.

So, without further a do, my opening post.
Edit: Moved logs to own domain, changed the style and the current story.
Link: http://kishi-tatsu.com/dl1/
Note: Paste direct from website, but forum doesn't keep formatting - looks better on website, lol.

</ooc>

[-pilot: Kishi Tatsu
location: LHS 3447 system
datalog #00001 open...

As this is my first data log, I think it’s only fitting I provide a little information about myself, to start with my name Kishi Tatsu, I’m a 31 year old combat veteran. By a curious but ironic twist of fate, I am currently a member of the Pilot’s Federation, the same organisation that caused the demise of my ship and career in the first place. You see, three years ago I was once a mercenary; one with questionable morals and perhaps few less than legal activities to my name, that all came to an burning halt when my career ended in the destruction of my beloved Fer-de-Lance, Sulaco.
I have, however, been given a new lease on life. I have recently pledged my allegiance to Zachary Hudson as I feel he best reflects the standards and morals I now strive to live by. You’ll notice, I trust, the direct contrast betwixt my new life and my previous one; where I once thrived on anarchy and destruction, I now seek law and order. Having aligned myself with the Federation and Zachary Hudson in particular, I strongly believe the Federation capable of achieving this goal.
Given a thousand credits, and the loan of a sidewinder-class ship, I’m travelling to Dalton Gateway in order to take possession of a new combat vessel, one graciously acquired for me by Jessia Rhyne; a mechanic at Trevithick Dock, the station at which I have spent the last three years adjusting to life as a legalised citizen of the Federation.
I see this as the beginning of a new life and have chosen to keep a record of my travels and new career in the form of these data logs. Each one will contain the decisions I make as I progress toward the Pilot’s Federation coveted status of Elite; I will also include any and all incoming transmissions or thoughts I may have if they apply.
For now though…
​

...datalog closed | saved to: //Log File: September 3301-]

 

[3dog]

Commander 3Dog

Names Trsteno Doggett, supposedly named after my great-grandfather, but everyone just calls me 3Dog. It's easier and sounds much less formal. I'm what your mother would call “a scoundrel”. I did my tour of duty in the Federal Security Services. I got some great pilot training there. But now I've gone freelance with my own ship and no CO (Commanding Officer) to report to.

I say that, but I just got re-commissioned as a Petty Officer in the Federation. I sure hope they don’t expect me to keep logs, because there would be a lot of empty space where I was actually running guns, slaves or narcotics around. It’s an easy way to make a few creds if you know how to defend yourself. I can count on one hand the number of times some poor schlep didn’t try and interdict me out of super-cruise when I’ve been hauling contraband. Funny, it’s always a surprise to them when I submit to the interdiction and turn on them with four pulse lasers mounted on tracking gimbals. Once their shields are toast I open up with the cannons which, yes, are also on tracking gimbals. At this point they either try to run or are too stubborn to know when to quit. Either way, I’m collecting a bounty in addition to my illicit cargo fee.

Don’t get me wrong, I run legitimate cargo too. I’ve handed out my share of judgement while in the employ of the Security Services, so I know how the game is played. Run 75% legitimate cargo, submit to the security scans obey the station protocol and every now and then, run that discrete cargo shipment, get-in and get-out fast. I’ve tried running silent, but that always ends badly for me. I hear tales of other smugglers being real good at it. I’m just not and I’ve learned how to work the system in my favor.

Recently, I started collecting rare items for trade back at Rhea, but found that I was running out of space in my Cobra. I stuck it out a few more weeks and traded it in on an Asp. Man did I hate the Asp when I first got her. I was used to my quick and agile Cobra. I put every credit I could spare into her and had every upgrade you could buy including a military grade armored hull with reinforcements. So, getting in a basic Asp felt like going backwards. I even called her a garbage scow a couple of times until I realized the problem was with the Power Distribution unit. The factory unit is junk. Once that was upgraded, I started liking the Asp. She still needs some new thrusters, a bigger power plant and a better FSD, but she’s manageable now. I think I’ll call her “Grace”.

I’m headed out to Zeessze, I hear they have this “ant grub glue” that folks back home will pay a fortune for. I just thought I would tell you a little about me in the event we run into each other. If you don’t fire on me, I won’t turn you to space dust, and I can buy you a beer instead. “Leave sleeping dogs lie”, my pops always says. Not bad for the son of an animal meat farmer. Sorry my ma can’t be here to see me now. She caught that LHS flu 10 cycles back, God rest her soul.

Yes, I’m a scoundrel, and I aim to misbehave. I’m not much of hunter, so not likely that I’ll be looking for you (if you’re wanted). Got a couple of bounties on my head myself. Fools calling themselves Aisling Defenders or some such Imperial non-sense tried to interdict me and then I get a bounty for ending their miserable existence. I only go into Imperial space if I absolutely have to and I usually mind my own business. I like my body parts all intact, thank you.

A wise man once said, “Burn the land and boil the sea, but you can’t take the sky from me”. Words to live by, friends.

3Dog, over and out.

 

[Matzov]

@OaModSias: Nice work. Looking forward to it.

If I might venture to pedantry... 'reborn anew' is a tautology. 'born anew' or 'reborn'.... Sorry.

 

[OamodSias]

@OaModSias: Nice work. Looking forward to it.

If I might venture to pedantry... 'reborn anew' is a tautology. 'born anew' or 'reborn'.... Sorry.

Thank you.

You're quite right; I'll fix it up shortly. Thanks for pointing it out.