ROLEPLAYING - Introduce your Commander

Commander Jet Zukuchi was born on a colony in the somewhat richer areas of kumo crew controlled space with aspirations to become an actor until being forced to fight with the crew against various minor factions, however his previously mentioned acting skill meant that he was able to infiltrate the enemy faction and destroy it from the inside out, after feeling some degree of resentment towards archon delaine and the kumo crew, he decided to flee his home world, during his aimless journey he found himself doing various forms of infiltration jobs in order to get information from all three of the major galactic superpowers as well as independents. He them happened upon Mambojas, a high profit system under mixed independent and federal control where he met Commander Samuel Brett who almost killed Jet in an attempt to defend his home system, however Jet managed to talk himself out of the situation, these two commanders became very close allies and created a faction in Mambojas using Jets strong diplomatic capability and Sams combat finesse to eliminate any competition, this group is ever growing and is always looking for more recruits into their fold, going with the ideals of being to help anyone and everyone in any way possible, The VoidWatchers
 
CMDR Bobifull Swartsnike

born on the planet GL-OOP grew up to be a space troll and hangs around in the Pleiades nebula pretending to be a thargoid
 
I, Ickerus Vast, am chronicling my experiences in the cold vacuums of space for my fellow Earthlings of the Sol system to know, and to prepare for what awaits you. In the distant future, Earth must be aware of what looms above the clouds and in the dark vast void.
There is more than danger and delight -- there is also destiny.

Access my video logs for my visual backstory/current-story here:
www.youtube.com/channel/UCF-eG8PpE1VssOdqROktAwg

Name: Ickerus Vast
Alias: OutRim Reaper
Alignment: Neutral Good
Originating Star System: Sol
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 230 lbs.
Affiliates: OutRim Reapers
Skills: Strategist, Pilot, Opportunist.
Weapons: Proficiency in handguns and blades.
 
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Lord of the Void

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Name: Robert Eastwood
Location of Birth: Earth
Age [Current]: 27
Height [Current]: 5'11"
Date of License: 2997
CMDR Name: Lord Eastwood




An ancestral line dating back to old England and nothing much left to his family's name, Robert Eastwood has set out on an expedition to discover the wonders of the universe and who he is as a person in place of it.

His ancestors were inhabitants of Sol, but emigrated outwards to locations within the Sol System such as Mars or went out into the galaxy to settle and set roots. Over those many generations, the title of Lord has been passed down to the oldest son of the title owner. With the passing of his father and mother twelve years ago, Robert has now in his possession land on Earth and the title of Lord. To respect his heritage and his parents, he used the title in front of his surname when registering for his pilot's license. Now he's known for being a efficient bounty hunter and explorer.


"Some day... I will return home."
 
I'm a space trucker. The name is Jack Burton of the Porkchop Express. Just remember what old Jack Burton does when the earth quakes and the poison arrows fall from the sky, and the pillars of heaven shake. Yeah, Jack Burton just looks that big old storm Square in the eye and he says, "Give me your best shot, pal. I can take it." I keep telling people, "It's all in the reflexes".
 
Pilots Federation License


Deimos Rimor

Age: 59 {3244-02-26}
Occupation: Merchant
Faction: Federation
Notes:
Commander may deal in the black market off-hand. Further investigation required.​

Bio:
Born to a single mother working on the docks of Hahn Gateway, Deimos never knew the high life that she saw on all of the advertisements, that she heard from the other dock workers that she encountered so often. The stories of Commanders who were privileged enough to be practically immortal, to live even through death. She didn't envy,
however. Among the few possessions that she and her mother shared was a Bible. From it she learned frugality, piety, and how to repress her negative emotions. She studied it thoroughly, and when her mother told her that perhaps she was too absorbed by the scripture, she studied behind her back instead. Perhaps she didn't even believe what she read, but instead looked to the scripture as a substitute for a parent. Her mother, almost never home from the docks, could not raise her, so the scripture did.

When her mother was condemned to death by infection in a broken leg, untreatable because of their poverty and sudden lack of income, Deimos did not blame the Federation. When Deimos' role-model Commander went missing and was never heard from again, she did not blame the Federation. When she tried to make a black market deal for the credits to buy food, and ended up losing her right eye, she did not blame the Federation. She endured twenty-three years of lonesome struggle on the docks of Hahn Gateway, but not once did she blame the Federation. From her perspective, the Federation was God. To her, it was as infallible as the Church was to the Catholics of old. So when she killed three dockworkers who were themselves on the verge of murdering a Federation Pilot, when she was then offered a chance to become a Commander, she did not have any inhibitions. She jumped at the opportunity, and has since been a devout Federation merchant.

Quotes:
"The word of Hudson is the word of God."

"Cross me again and I'll personally send a missile through your window."

"It took me five years to save up for this eye, don't make me bust a blood vessel in my other."

"I didn't sign up in the Federation Navy to shoot people, I signed up to shoot enemies. There's a difference."

"I haven't touched the distress call button in fifteen years, I'm not about to break that streak now!" [Commander received a strike from a superior officer for this comment.]

"Believe it or not, I've met people who were more afraid of their own shadow than you are of death."
 
Empire of Achenar – Official Naval Dossier




Name: Juzel Rix, of the Patron Rixs
Birth: November 23, 3275
Height: 1.85m
Weight: 67Kg

Biography:

Juzel was born to Allister and Charlene Rix who were both prominent Patrons of the Empire in the Wu Guinagi system; a backwater area of little interest. Because of their status, Juzel Rix was allowed entry into the Imperial Navy School of Flight at which he received high marks for advanced maneuvering and FTL control. At the age of 20 Juzel’s parents were both killed in their Cutter while en route to a senatorial ceremony wherein his father, Allister Rix, was to be sworn in as the new Senator for their sector. This ceremony was highly controversial as Patron Prentarch Libby had been vying for the same position, but losing in the polls. Ultimately, after Allister’s untimely death, Prentarch took the role as the new Senator, even with the circumstantial situation.

After his parent’s death, he sought out a group of mercenaries to assist him in seeking vengeance on Senator Libby. The group found the Senator had in fact hired pirates to kill Rix’s parents, as well as seeking aid from the Federation to ultimately undermine the Empire in the area for profit. Once this news surfaced the Empire disavowed Prentarch Libby, and Juzel Rix killed him by his own hand according to the Imperial Honor Code.

Juzel Rix declined the role of Senator of succession, choosing to remain an independent pilot. He now searches for clues to the mysteries of the universe and Thargoids after paying to have his parent’s Cutter rebuilt.
 
Full Name: Xaevryn Haran Ulvek.

Aliases: Xae, Xae-Bae, That one guy over there, Sir.

Date of Birth: 17/05/3269.

Profession: Special Operations and combat pilot for the 9th Legion.

Rank: Dragoon.

Xaevryn was born on Capitol in Achenar in the year 3269. His parents were well-off but average citizens of the Empire. He lived a rather dull and unchallenging life of privilege never wanting for anything as his mother was a popular tailor and his father was a Captain in the Imperial Military. He was of course, quite bored. Ever the loyal and devout Imperial Citizen he quickly signed up to the Imperial Navy as soon as he turned 18, much to his parents (and his own) delight. He distinguished himself as a rather capable pilot early on in his training and served on board the Majestic Class Interdictor INV Starlit Dawn as a fighter pilot for roughly four years.

Xaevryn fought in many battles, flying his GU-97 into conflict after conflict. After becoming a triple Ace pilot, his CO pulled him to the side quietly and ushered Xaevryn into the ship's briefing room. Standing there in the deserted room was a man in a crisp black and silver Imperial uniform. The legion's insignia born upon the mysterious man's epaulets was utterly unfamiliar to Xaevryn. The man quite casually walked up and shook Xaevryn's hand, offering an opportunity.

Ever since that day Xaevryn has served with the 9th Legion proudly. He has taken part in many conflicts, skirmishes, civil wars, and even the shadow war between the Empire and Federation. All the while keeping his presence hidden unless absolutely necessary. Xaevryn is proud to serve the 9th and the Emperor, even if his exploits go unnoticed by the public, and redacted by the government. The camraderie he feels with his fellow Legionnaires as well as his sense of personal accomplishment more than makes up for it.
 
"No, I don't believe in the registries anymore," said the bearded man.
He was Commander Fermmoylle, an explorer and de-facto bounty hunter, a man who liked small and nimble ships. But he was sure he died a few times already.
"And, as a phoenix, I've risen from the ashes," he used to say.
He believed the Empire had messed with cloning so much that there was something really wrong in the galaxy. He saw friends die and no escape shuttle was ejected to prove him otherwise, yet his "dead" friends were back later. Not as zombies or something like that, but as living beings, without no traces of the experience.
This led him to try to understand what was really going on. Yet, there was not factual evidence to prove what he was searching... At least, not a single recorded experience.
He wants to know the truth, but there's more: he wants to make things right. That's why he can be seen helping newcomers to the big galactic game while opening fire against those who did wrong. He may never find what he's looking for but, at least, some lives can be better due to his actions.
 
The full story of my Commander so far is contained in the logs of my INARA profile, so I won't reproduce it in full.

The gist is, though, that she's a farm girl from Lave who trained to fly at Lave's system defence force flight school, then transferred to the Alliance's full time defence forces. In my own personal head canon, the Alliance Defence Force is composed of system defence forces that operate like military reservists, and a full time branch called "FTS" that's an all-Alliance force responsible for keeping the system defence forces trained. She gets transferred to the FTS branch and gets stationed in the Dagr system with an FTS unit called the 351st Deep Space Tactical Support Wing, which is a jack of all trades unit doing convoy escort, reconnaissance, search and rescue, and stellar cartography. She has an attitude problem (of course) and leaves the Alliance Defence Force at the end of her contract. She ends up joining the Pilots Federation at their branch office in LHS 3447, which brings us to the beginning of our story. She has a preference for flying Asps, because the 351st in my head canon is a wing of Asps.
 
A complete Biography of my Character can be found HERE, Suffice to Say I am the Elder Pack Leader for the WINTERS WOLVES. My duties are many and my week is filled with interacting with many individuals from all over the Galaxy not only in my Wing Itself. I spend a great deal of time in Diplomatic Negotiation representing our wing with our neighbors as well as work what seems like non-stop with my Flight Commanders trying to keep the Wing in ship shape and duty ready status. More about the Wolves can be found in our TIMELIME

N.R.Crosby
Elder Pack Leader

...........Transmission Ends


 
My callsign in the Federation Navy was Night Stalker. It stuck as a nickname and so I use it as my Commander name. After my stint in the Navy I applied for and was accepted into the Federal Security Service as a Special Agent. I was sent all over the galaxy in the interest of solving crimes, keeping peace, and gathering intelligence. I was good at my job. So good, someone powerful decided I was a liability. When my fellow agents suddenly turned on me I knew it was time to shed my allegiance and become an independent commander. I've spent years going from system to system, picking my battles, bounty hunting, serving as a mercenary, making dangerous cargo and passenger runs. And when I can't stand the human race anymore I park my Corvette (the Rocinante) In long term storage and head out into the black in my Asp (the Dulcinea). I'm not a young man anymore, but don't mistake the gray in my beard for weakness; I've cracked more ship hulls than most. More than enough to become Elite. There's an old earth adage about age and treachery defeating youth and skill. Be careful around the gray old Commanders. There aren't many, and they deserve to be treated with caution. I usually work alone, but if you need a skilled commander with a powerful ship, and you have enough credits (or a good enough cause), I might give you a wing.

Stay frosty, and... Right on, Commanders!
 
After a dispute with some deceiving leaders in imperial space, something in my head ruptured and my name changed to cmdr inlinesix.

With the namechange, an obvious change in perception of reality occured and I considered some people in game as spine owning friendly folks doing the right thing, just to recognize this was only a followup of a badly fixed cerebral defect. Or did I experience the next mental issue? One of them told me I would sit in my cockpit with pants on my head and waiting for slaughtering my family.... Mh, sometimes it's hard to separate reality (realities?)

These days I have called in all my old friends to do what I have done since release - help newly hatches cmdrs - as the pants-on-head guy and his friends block me from doing so.

Personally, I have moved far away (not out of game, but far away from helping newbies in the starter systems), enjoying my PvE retirement :)

PS: cmdr "inlinesix" not for being a cult follower in line with some weird rulers, but for the love of ancient human technology. Imagine, they once burnt millions-of years-old-sludge in mechanical monsters with countless parts revolving and vibrating as hell... to move their personal vehicles... Muahahahahahaaaaa.
 
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The dream of finding the fabled Spanish Silver Train sunken beneath the clear blue waves of the Caribbean, or the miraculous Fountain of Youth in the balmy mangroves of Yucatán, or the lost City of Gold gleaming amongst the dust and prickly cactuses of Mexico, had once inspired explorers to flock through the so-called New World of ancient Earth, conquering and discovering – and dieing – as they went. Like those ancient pioneers, the intrepid spaceship commanders of the year AD 3303 sometimes went out into uncharted territories looking for something other than simple profit, sights to see, freedom, or for scientific research. Sometimes something more eccentric and mysterious drew them out into the endless unknown of the ink.

In that sense, Commander Asimova was no different to any other pilot of her generation.

But her myth was her own...


+++


(Read more here if you are interested: https://inara.cz/cmdr-logbook/61154/22829/)
 
My commander

Fall from glory:


My commander is Commander Su'thir. Commander Su'thir was born on Shinrarta Dezhra to a wealthy influential family of elite pilots who secretly supported the Empire's agenda in lieu of the Pilot's Federation. They worked for a time, quietly advancing the Empire's eventual plan to seize Shinrarta Dezhra and all the succulent Pilot's Federation assets they could, both to allow them access to the best intelligence network around by quietly usurping the Pilot's federation and seizing their intelligence system, and to prevent the loss of so many slave shipments. But they were found out, the Pilot's federation quickly imprisoned, tried and found Su'thir's parents guilty of high treason, and executed them. The Empire's secret interest in the Pilot's Federation was quickly covered up as it was never officially supported, leaving one remnant behind: Su'thir, too young to remember any of the happenings. Su'thir was given mercy by the Pilot's Federation and was raised by the elite pilots of the Pilot's Federation, and was taught how to fly a ship. When he reached majority he was given a sidewinder and a small gift of 1,000 credits and told not to return to Shinrarta Dezhra or Jameson Memorial station until he had earned it. Unbeknownst to him, the very people who raised him were the reason why he didn't know his parents. However Su'thir doesn't resent the fact the he didn't know his parents as he figured if they didn't care about him enough to just pack up and leave like everyone in the Pilot's federation had told him, they weren't worth the trouble. Su'thir traveled the galaxy for three weeks before finding himself at Eravate, fresh out of credits and luck. He took various small side jobs, from running palladium and various materials back and forth to making a 21,000 light year trip to save a planet from a plague and collect a handsome sum of credits. He is currently in a nicely outfitted Cobra MkIII with a sum of 3,000,000 credits in the bank trying to decide what to do next in his epic quest for wealth, whether that be through legal means or the grittiest most dangerous, and profitable means available.
 
Jimmy

Jimmy's not quite sure what his last name was. Something with an S. Names always seemed stupid to him. His CMDR ID spoke to that. PhyllisDillHer, a dumb joke from his youth. He's gone through so many false covers and identities that he really only remembers two things about the young man who started running: He loved spaceships, and he hated governments.
Born in 3252, on Altair 4, Jimmy's parents were federation bigwigs. His father, Jerome, was a pilot during the Birthright Wars, and used his reputation as a war hero to score a seat in the Federation Congress. While holding Office, he met Jimmy's mother, Sam, the daughter of a Corporate Executive who made no attempt to conceal his want for another politician in his pocket, and offered his daughter's hand in exchange for Jerome's votes. They lived a wealthy, sad life. Jimmy was their only child. When he began to act out in his teen years, Jerome sent his son to a military school. Although he had access to a flight sim, Jimmy found himself constrained by the military life. After discovering writings critical of governments and being introduced to the concept of Anarchy, Jimmy found something in himself. Something to believe in. So at just seventeen years old, Jimmy stole 5,000 credits from his father's account and an old Sidewinder from some schmuck who left it unattended. He got his hands on a counterfeit Pilot's license, and spent the next twenty odd years bouncing from system to system, helping out anarchist causes whenever he could, sometimes he lead raids on any poor who wants to wave some little flag. Those were the old times. Then he caught a bullet in the leg in a government raid on a ground-side 'Terrorist' base somewhere in the vicinity of Eravate. Those 'terrorists' were good people. People just trying to live a good life, free from the tyranny of flags and corporations. Jimmy had been there on a supply run for a group he'd been helping get supplies to take down some sorry little Imperial convoy. Turned out they'd tracked him to where he was getting the explosives. After that, Jimmy's been shy of fights. He's near fifty, and that bullet gave him a bad limp. Now he's content to fly his Type-6 and gaze at the endless void. Free of all rule but the one he has over his own aging body. He still maintains information networks, and helps the Cause in smaller ways. But he knows he'll die in deep space, ferrying cargo. It isn't sexy, exciting, or dangerous. But god dammit, Jimmy's dying free.
 
Would you believe after all these years I only just now found my way here..? In any event, in-game I am Commander Enrogue Óðinkárr (an honor to make thy acquaintance, I am sure! *slight bow*), and here is a portrait of my character nestled in the pilot seat of one of his workhorses. What follows in text here is a skim background/character story synopsis. In the odd case anyone should ever want to know more, I'm afraid it should happen in-game and preferably after an "in-character" fashion *sardonic smile*. But as far as introductions go, I believe this suffices.


Born on the planet Varangia in the Miphifa star system at the outskirts of Imperial heartlands what seems, is, like ages ago, the commander in question had rather turbulent childhood and teenage years. The backwater mining world he hails from was a tough place to grow up on to begin with, not to mention coming from a broken lower class family with the usual galore of issues. After getting into a lot of trouble of his own growing up from a teenager (mainly violence and substance abuse), the only way he could see himself ending up was as an imperial slave to redeem his past mistakes and start anew. That, or stone cold six feet under. After having worked his way to freedom from slavery, he took to heart the basic lessons in life the rough times had taught him, and has since prospered in a multitude of fields in his adulthood. A jack-of-all trades, one might say; master of none, but a dilettante in many. During these early adult years in the seedier sides of society, he also got to bond with his so-called and only family he has known after since his only parent perished during the time of his slavery. Originating from a local group of friends and growing into an intragalactic clan of rogues, wanderers, ne'er-do-wells and other misfits they took to calling themselves the Varangian Syndicate. Really just pretty much a straightforward gang. Only, with starships. But his gang.

The first years of his refound freedom were spent engaging in economical and exploration interests, working his way steadily up from a Sidewinder (that he still keeps around) through an Eagle to a Viper Mk. III . After that entered a long period of heavy violence as he spent decades doing mainly mercenary work for the great powers across the four corners of the bubble, along with cartography missions and freelance work for various contractors that at times included covering extreme distances of travelling. At the same time his fortunes and size of vessels kept steadily increasing. After earning his stripes in a military career up to getting promoted to an admiral with the Federation and a prince of the Empire, he largely retired from active duty for the great powers in a time span of a few years. Since then he has wandered the void far and wide, and haunted the bubble to intimate familiarity while endlessly customizing and improving his ships. To fill in the credit void at times engaging in smuggling, sometimes legit trading, often even piracy to maintain his upkeep which has grown formidable with his fleet bloating. Although just as easily it might be straight wetwork, spec ops or bounty hunting, or the occasional mercenary contract; your basic, old school ultra-violence. Doesn't really matter too much to him in the end, long and arduous years jaded enough. Throughout all the years one thing has remained constant though, even if activity might have fluctuated. That is exploration. Learning. To see and understand something new. Something that possibly no one sentient might of even never have seen before. This includes the unexplainable fascination towards everything alien, be it sights, structures or more or less sentient beings.

Needless to say the Guardians, and even more so the Thargoid race, seems to fascinates the aging scoundrel to no end as he spends more and more time of his last decades away from the bubble, and out there in the void chasing infinite dreams as his only legacy.

(re-sized for the forumites viewing pleasure)

(Please feel free to add me to your friends in-game and please notify me if you rp, light or heavy both ok)
 
I am an AmerIndian that comes from the Navajo stock of the Southwest United States Of America, I prefer to be called by my Tribal name: Dineh This is translated as “the People”. We were and are desert people who prefer to keep our sheep and goats free of our many predators. I cannot say that we are a peaceful People. With the Arapaho, Apache, and other tribes, we fought infrequent territorial fights for water ground. Then one day, a great sky bird landed near out Main Hogans and we were told about the sun’s coming death and of the “Great Explosion” and we were given the chance to be part of it. Our Elders and medicine Men spent many days before agreeing to be part of this exodus into the stars. 78 Clans were gathered from the desert along with all their sheep, goats, horses, dogs, women, children, and belongings and made the trek to Los Alamos where our ship lay, ready to take on her cargo. Finally after 2 months of loading and planning with the pilots and crew, the Anne McCaffery was ready to reach for the stars.

The Anne McCaffery was an early ram ship that used rocket power to lift off until its’ ram engine could be opened and used in interstellar space, that meant Cold Sleep for all who rode in her dormitory pods.
The pilots made sure that we understood what was to happen before we lifted, while we were in transit and then when we were awakened for our final part of the landing procedure and then they said good night, sealed the dormitories, leaving us to dream the sleep of the enthralled.

The alarms were ringing loudly and stridently forcing me to open my eyes and swallow to take the dryness out of my throat. Then I realized that something was wrong with the ship, everybody was coming out of their sleep shells, confused and looking to their elders for an answer… only there was no answer to give…. Over the intercom system, the pilots’ voice came telling us of a solar storm that destroyed the ram jet’s net of force, radiation caused the death of the main computer’s AI that controlled the ship while all slept. The dormitory pods were being ejected one at a time to a planet that was .001 LY from our present location. Nothing was known about this planet but the Anne Mccaffery was designed to protect her cargo at all times, even to depositing them on a planet that offered an option of life vs death in space. All in all 77 pods were ejected, the last pod had damage to the locks and were unable to eject and they shared Annes’ fate. We could see the pods spiraling down to the planet surface… each pod landing point some distance from the next. When we hit atmosphere, we lost sight and contact of all the pods around us so we were not sure of how many actually landed safely.
The Dormitory Pod was quiet the smell of burning insulation, the crackle of electricity from a short somewhere was all we could sense. Darkness enclosed the inside of the pod and fear sat on its’ regal throne until the elders found the needed switches… light flared and went out with deep booms somewhere in the bowel of the pod. Handlights were found and distributed among the elders who gathered the tribe together, took stock and then waited for the head council to determine what to do.

The decision was made… instruments tested the gravity, air density and composition, took a live look at the exterior and the elders decided that this land was livable. The main hatch was found and scouts were picked to spy the land out and to report back what they found. I was among the chosen scouts and my path lead to the north where a great plain could be seen on the edge of the horizon. During my travel, I found edible food, drinkable water, and prints of something that my training could not identify, the land that I went through was empty and very much like home… desert with its varied and tough plants. Under the plants, small creatures scuttle with the speed of creatures that are hunted by others.
A week later, I am reporting back and am surprised that I am the only one to report back. This bodes evil for the elders who are reluctant to release the People to set up their hogans and start their new lives in a new land. The pod decided our moving out as the main reactor that supplied the ship with food, water and protection gave a shriek of sirens and an automated voice came up…. Radiation!!! Core melt down!!! Damper failure!!!! I can tell you, the Dineh can move when the need is dire… people,. Animals and goods started an orderly exodus to the planet side.. with the intent to put as much distance as possible just in case, the reactor went critical. When it did, the dormitory pod disappeared in a white light and resounding explosion. Even at 10 miles distance, we all felt the pressure wave and the heat of the explosion as it rode the hillside and crested over us while we were on the reverse slope. Again, I was put on scout duty with a duty to find good living grounds for the tribe. This time, I did not go alone, my Brother went with me. Five days on the Road we are leaving trail signs of what we found so the elders, who were following would know what we were doing. On the 7th day, we entered a valley, green with vegetation, flowing creeks that led down to a fairly large lake and ground flat enough to grow our corn and build our Hogans. My brother elected to stay and scout further as I went back to report our final findings. I never heard from him again.

Six years has passed, our Hogans are built, The Dineh are getting accustomed to the new life, corn is high, sheep are fat, the goats are milking again. The dogs and horses did not do very well… both species died shortly after making planet fall… The elders have sent out scouts to make contact with other tribes so far, no contact. No signs have been found, no fire smoke has been seen on the horizon, until the 7th year, Contact was made… the elders said that the planet was ghost ridden and many of their young men have gone missing while on the hunt of discovery. The tribe is only half of what it should be, they agree to consolidate with us and move to our Hogans.

The strange prints that I saw earlier are very numerous where we found the tribe…. Searching, I come across signs of struggles and then drag marks. The tracks are old and weathered but still speak clearly of horrors that had happened. On return to the Hogans, I reported what I saw and the elders asked about the dormitory pods and how they fared…. The answer was that it became haunted and no one has gone back there for 7 years.
Great!! I was picked to go back , find the dormitory pod and see if there was anything salvageable that we could use and then report back to the Elders. Although it is an honor to be picked to be on a possible dangerous mission, I still felt uneasy in my spirit. Three weeks later, I have found the pod, it appears undamaged, the hatch is open and the shadows are deep inside but there comes a smell that reeks of death. Circling the pod, I see the tracks of many creatures… overlapping and confusing the message that the tracks once held. I position myself off to one side and quietly watch for activity and to see if I can see the source of the tracks. I am not long in waiting, a rather large creature comes out on 4 legs, the body is about 4 feet long and held parallel to the ground, what would be the waist of the creature goes up another 2 feet and ends in a triangular head with large bulbous eyes and a set of vicious jaws,
At the base of the waist are 2 more legs… modified to look like arms that are hinged so that they can close on each with points that appear to be as sharp as spears. My mind races to see if I had anything that might be compared and come back with a sickening sensation: The Desert mantis, except this mantis is only 3 inches long, feeds on flies and small bugs that lived on the chapparal of my desert. As I watch, more come out, appear to be communicating with each other by moving their legs and antennae around and looking from one to the other while occasionally looking in the direction of the abandoned Hogans.
I wait until dark and quietly move out and race back to the Dubious safety of my Hogan. On arrival, an Elder meeting is called and the finding is discussed. In the morning, the elders declare that we must fortify our valley to the best that we can, no longer will hunters go out alone, everyone from the children down to the older Elders must be accompanied for safety. Days are spent fortifying and putting up a palisade around the immediate area then scouts were sent out to spy the land. Then the unforgettable happened, a scout team was ambushed by the creatures, only 1 scout returned, horribly gashed and lacerated as if he had survived a gauntlet that we used to use on our enemies. Long standing battle procedures were enacted, warriors went to their station to guard against attack. All is quiet, except for the crickets….. Crickets???? The elders reach the same conclusion… we have not heard crickets in 7 yrs… it is THEM!!! We have been found!!! Warning shouts from the pallisade show an attack is happening… reserve warriors armed with long lances rush to the aid of their brother warriors, loud yells, battle cries, bodies thudding on the ground and then it is over… 6 of the creatures lie in the throws of death but three of our warriors are gone… no remains,, just gone. For a Hogan of only 3500, this is not good. The elders gather around the dying creatures and get a good look at them… heavily armored, quick agile legs, swift and deadly forearms and the vicious jaws now opening and closing as if trying to say something. Then stillness as death overtakes them. We are lucky, on further exam.. they have no wings nor do they look like they ever needed wings. We need not fear aerial attack. Then we hear the sheep and the goats in their pens bleating in fear and panic… Warriors converge on the scene and dispatch several creatures who have speared many of the sheep and goats.

Time slows down when one is in a fight to the death and it was the same here. Daily, we are besieged, warriors and animals die, the creatures( we now called Monsters) seem to spurn death just so we can die, to be dragged off and eaten. The elders offer prayers to the Changing Woman who had 2 sons.. One was Monster Slayer and it is to him that we pray the most to.
An Elder has gone off to Meditate off into the Hills… he firmly believes the Monster slayer will protect him… Since he is also a Shaman… He has strong medicine and has the courage to believe in the old ways.
He is gone for nearly 10 days and we are losing more and more warriors, our sheep and goats are down to just a few head that we have put in the center of the pallisade so they are somewhat protected.
All is surprised when he walks through the Hogan’s gate and announces that Salvation has come to our beleaguered tribe. Just behind him there walk two of the strangest creatures I have seen.. one is a commanchero with the largest sombrero, the other is a walking mountain lion of our desert mountains back on earth. He has on funny looking clothes and walks as if he is completely at home walking on his hind legs. When asked, the Shaman says that they came to him in a peyote dream… first as bright flashing lights and then as you see them now… it is too bad that they cannot speak or be understood but Changing Woman sent them here for a purpose.
The two beings are trying very hard to make themselves understood…. They draw pictures on the ground showing the what looks like circular lines with dots on them and we appear to be the 3rd dot. They then draw more separate circles with dots and then point to themselves…. Understanding comes… They are from another planet system but why are they here? The elders try to communicate with them and it seems to go so slowly until the next attack… then we see these creatures are not only from another place.. but from another time with magic that we have never seen or dreamed of. The Monsters attack the Pallisade from three directions and have gotten over the walls…. The two pull out weapons that streak out lightning and where they hit… dozens of monsters fall in heaping piles or disappear in bursts of light.
With their magic, the fight is over in a few minutes with all the attackers dead, gone or vaporized. We did not lose a single warrior!!!
The elders and the Shaman turn to face the two and solemnly get down on their knees , spread their arms and look to the ground. All the other Dineh do the same while the two strangers look on with puzzlement and some embarrassment as what to do. The commanchero gently touches one of the elder and signals for him to get up and soon all of the Dineh are standing and circling the Saviors.
Breakthrough!! One of the elders has grasped what the Saviors want, he was going through one of our old records looking for something to help when the Commanchero took an interest in one of the tech manuals that lay nearby. He looked at it, called the Mt Lion over who got excited and then did a quick grab for a pocket and came out with a small square device that he immediately began playing with, all the time making sounds until the elder suddenly gave a start and quickly looked at the Mt Lion as if he had heard a sprit talk. Common ground was finally reached with this little box. It turned out to be a universal translator and it only took a few words and some adjustments to figure out that the Dineh were speaking a version of Earth English and not the universal language now called OOLITIAN. Progress came fast and furious… it turns out that the commanchero is called “El Viejo” and the Mt Lion is called Captain Hesperus and they are looking for a form of ore that can be used to create fuel for their space ships. I notice that El Viejo has a crooked grin that reminds me of the Trickster from our homeland… the Coyote who is friend or foe… depends on how he feels or on what Changing Woman tells him.
We ask what is this ore called and he replies: Uranium.
We used nuclear reactors in the dormitory pods and they used uranium as fuel…. We just happen to know where one is and ask them are they willing to help to get this fuel from the dormitory pod? It appears that it is quite important and we quickly reach an accord. Tomorrow, we will go together and get the fuel they need and all they have to do is eliminate what is in the pod.
Early morning, we are on the crest of the hill overlooking the abandoned dormitory pod, the two saviors and 1000 Dineh warriors with long lances and special steel tipped arrows.
Earlier after the Hogan battle, the two asked us what did we call these creatures and we said Monster.
They laughed and said that Monster was indeed a good word but where they come from,, they are Thargoid land warriors. Almost impossible to kill except by lasers and other nasty devices.
So now we watch and wait…. The Thargoids come out, do their meetings and prepare to head to our Hogan… but this time… we ambush them!!!
Arrows fly into the massed Thargoids, pinning many to the ground while the 2 weapons that our saviors use are blasing them down faster than they can come out of the old pod. After several hours at full operation, El Viejo’s weapon starts to sputter and lose power to kill and the Thargoids are still pouring out of the pods in unstoppable numbers.The Dineh fight as they can only fight… deadly and efficient.. but even the arrows are used up and the fight becomes long lance to long arms and then in close with knives. The Dineh are VERY good at hand to hand fighting and are making a good accounting but even they are being beaten back with injuries increasing with every step back. Captain Hesperus looks around frantically, then presses something on his belt and he goes vertical on a trail of smoke and disappears in the direction of the Hogans. We look at each other and think “coward”. El Viejo has now pulled an archaic weapon from his side and with deadly accuracy, continues to blast Thargoid after Thargoid. The Percussion sound from his weapon, has an effect on the Thargoids and they pause in their attack… their heads cocked as if listening for something in the sudden silence on the battle ground. But this only lasts a few minutes then they continue the attack.
Over the Horizon, we see a large boxy item come flying in at a low level. From the front of the vessel, 2 bright lights come forth and vaporize huge amouns of the Thargoids as if they did not even exist. The blasts left a zigzag image in our retinas while the pilot fired continuously and accurately until there were no more moving Thargoids around us. The pilot lands the vessel at the pods’ hatch and then gets out, pulls a pin from a large circular object then hugs the ground as if he were trying to become part of it. The interior of the pod lights up, shakes, then belches out a large cloud of what looks like steam. El Viejo says that Captain Hesperus just used a blockbuster neutron device… guaranteed to clear out any vessel that is infested with Trumbles.
Trumbles? Are they the same as cockroaches? El Viejo laughs and says in that were only true but indicates that trumbles are worse.
It appears that this neutron device sends out lethal vibrations and density particles that can penetrate even the walls of the pod and if there is anything organic inside… it is killed instantly while preserving the inorganic material.
El Viejo and Captain Hesperus walk boldly into the pod… and an hour later,,, they come out with several funny looking bags that must weigh 100 pounds or more…. Inside is several grams of uranium that was lifted from the reactor and that this is enough to refuel their ships energy supplies.

As they get into the ship, we ask if there is anything that can be done about the Thargoids that are still on the planet… El Viejo drops his head and says no there isn’t but we can set it up so that they can never bother you here. We gather our dead and put as many as we could into the space craft and they head of back to the Hogans…. We take the rest… form litters and head back to the Hogans on foot.
By the time the ground warriors return.. the elders have met and agreed with Captain Hesperus and El Viejo as to what is to be done.
With the help of the able bodied, four posts were mounted on the hilltops surrounding our territory,
These were then hooked up to sensors that took in the signature of the body heat and texture of Thargoids…. Humans and others could freely pass through these mounts although that was not reccommended but if a Thargoid should try to sneak in, it would instantly be recognized and destroyed. Of the four peaks, the elders named the northern one: Hesperus Peak. (Dibé Ntsaa) and the color of this peak is black and another dedicated to the Coyote in honor of his cunning and intelligence..
The elders also proclaimed that on all of our art…the double zig zag lightning bolts will be featured as a tribute the Captain Hesperus’s strong magic in eliminating our enemies.
As El Viejo and Captain Hesperus loaded and then boarded their shuttle( for that is what their vessel was), I stood and asked how I can become a star warrior like them. El Viejo chuckled and Captain Hesperus snorted and asked if I had any common sense to which I replied… if I did, would I be asking this question? El Viejo motioned me to board his vessel and said that once we get to Captain Hesperus’s ship. A call will be put in to transfer me to Lave Academy where I will start my new career…But I did need to let the Academy know the name of my planet of origin. That is when I said: Earth… The home of the Dineh, past, present, and future.
 
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File 15423168-E - Personal Dossier

Subject: Eisenkralle, Ranek
Age: 38
Gender: male
Occupation: Pilot

Early life:
No data available from before age 12. Subject was first recorded in an orphanage on Dajoar 3. Subject was known to repeatedly escape from the orphanage compound in violation of direct orders from the orphanage's authority [NAME REDACTED]. Law Enforcement reported multiple incidents where the subject tried to get off-world as stowaway. At age 16 Subject was expelled from the orphanage after having hidden in a local forest for several days.

Investigation located an unreported crash site within said forest. According to analysis a Sidewinder crashed there decades ago and was subseuently abandoned. Displaying a knack for repairing technical devices Subject was temporarily employed as maintenance technician on planetary spaceport. However, Subject seemed to be discontent with working conditions and after a few months ceased to show up for work. Subject was eventually located at the crash site, restoring the crashed craft to somewhat flightworthy condition with little more than scrap metal and basic tools.
When Subject was to be apprehended he boarded the Sidewinder and successfully escaped his pursuers. After leaving the planet he went into hiding and was good enough that [REDACTED] lost interest in him and closed the case.

Recent Past:
Subject has reappeared a few years ago. [REDACTED] was contacted, but gave orders not to pursue the matter any further and leave him be. ever since his reappearance Subject has worked to improve his standard of living by replacing the Sidewinder with bigger ships that were better suited to earn a living for an independant pilot.
Ships he piloted during his career:
Sidewinder, Cobra Mk III, Lakon Type 6, ASP Explorer, Lakon Type 7, Python, Lakon Type 9 Heavy, Anaconda.
Subject focused on trading for a large portion of his career and recently added deep-space exploration to his sources of income. He does have limited experience in combat, but commonly avoids fighting unless forced into a confrontation.
Frequent Sightings:
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WARNING! DATA INTEGRITY COMPROMISED!

So you are the one spying on me, hm? Thought I didn't notice? Well I did. Getting in here wasn't exactly easy, but it was about my only chance to be left in peace, don't you think? Speaking of which.. I buried a couple logic-bombs within the data you just accessed. They are going to fry everything they gain access to if I give them the signal. Consider this your final warning. Stop stalking me and you'll be fine. But if you insist on continuing to snoop around in matters that are none of your business, well... Ever since i was a kid people tried to boss me around and manipulate me into helping them in their designs - but I'd have none of it. If I help people I do so because I want to - not because I am foced to, is that understood? Heck so long as I am left in peace I may even do missions for you at some point - if they are worth my time that is. But do not make the mistake of thinking that just because i may work for you at some point I may forgive your digging through my background. Nope. Not gonna happen. I am independant. Got it? And I am going to remain that way. Don't like it? Then look for another pilot.


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The earliest memory of cmdr Von Roerich was waking up in an escape pod. Everything before that only appears in flashbacks when triggered by a sight, sound, colour or smell. From the data logs embedded within the escape pod database, Roerich had plenty of time to investigate who he was. He did after all, have all the time in the world to reason with his predicament. Unfortunately the logs were damaged and not being able to access them left a bitter taste in his mouth. Much like the story of the 'Scorpion and the Hare', once contact was made with another human being his natural instincts kicked in. His permanent struggle of identity is pushed into the background whilst he tries to keep himself occupied with the daily activities of life in a small moon base. The occasional flashbacks trigger his desire to find out who he is.
See the story so far here...... https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCLfZHZW_oMk0wVSqKUWgFQA/videos
 
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