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Small tales with character.

CenCen Posts: 36Member ✭✭
I was thinking that maybe some people who have a clear character concept in mind would like to share a bit of background or something. With that in mind, I'll start off with a short little something to portray Cen.

A young woman sits hunched over a work bench, completely focused on the task in front of her. The room is dimly lit, save for the bright light that illuminates the immediate spot in front of her. Grease tracks streak across her light blue short-sleeved top, as if she has used it to wipe off dirt from her fingers, or possibly massaged a sore spot on her lower back without realizing she will cause a stain. Her coverall has been pulled down to her waist, the arms used to tie it in place above her hips. This, too, shows stains and rips from wear and tear, with bottom hems frayed near the heel as if being stepped on often.

Pausing in her work for a moment, she raises the back of her hand to her forehead, wiping away some sweat. The motion continues up into the long blond hair, which streaks back across her scalp in a mohawk fashion, nudging a few stray strands of hair out of the way. Gripped between her fingers is a small silvery wire, which seems to roll up into a coil in her palm. 

Cen shifts a little in her seat, rolls a shoulder, then leans forward to peer through a mounted looking glass. Once more, she slides the soldering iron in place, adjusting the flux-tipped end to rest against the nearby component before dabbing with the thread of solder against it. Smoke rises for a moment, but clears quickly with a puff of air that passes her lips. Shifting the soldering iron out of the way to get a better look, Cen lets out a disgruntled, "Bah!", as she notices her mistake. She had just secured the wrong wire. Correct spot this time, but it would still short-circuit the bloody thing. Frustrated, she tosses her tool away across the bench, perhaps just a little bit too carelessly.

The hot end of the soldering iron rolls away and comes to a stop against a forgotten wad of grease-stained rags. It doesn't take long before the combination causes a rather spectacular result. In a whoosh, the cloth lights up with a green flame, which then spreads rapidly in the other direction, as a spill of some kind has only been hastily wiped up. "Oi!" In startled panic, Cen shoots up from her seat, tossing the solder away as she rushes over towards the fire. Undoing the knot of her overall, she wrests a sleeve free and furiously begins patting at the flames.

Sadly, this only exasperates the fire, as whatever was dumped on the bench has also soaked into the coverall. With a shrill-sounding "Eep!", the young woman lets go of the now-burning sleeve and instead begins to tug at the few remaining buttons. Fumes rise from the green-tinged flames, causing her to cough as she struggles to free herself of her burning clothes. Once she can allow them to fall to the ground, she stomps energetically all over them, puffs of smoke rolling out from underneath the pile.

Standing in her underwear and a greasy top, she slumps her shoulders and looks back at the work bench. The fuel there has already been exhausted with nothing having been damaged by the initial mistake. Her eyes travel back to the charred clothes at her feet and she rolls her eyes. "Well shoot, there goes another one," she grumbles, stomping off towards her sleeping quarters.



  • SqueakumsSqueakums Posts: 18Member
    edited January 30

    Deleted because I seem to like double-posts.

  • SqueakumsSqueakums Posts: 18Member

    Change. It is at the heart of Inigo's life, and his new role in the ship is no different. Thanks to his predecessor's recent trip out the airlock, Inigo has been reassigned to cooking duty. Everybody pulls their weight their own way here, and a hired gun in space has a lot of downtime. So Inigo cooks. It is uncommon for smugglers, pirates, and scavengers to have this kind of luxury aboard their vessel. A real shame, too, as their irregular routes and clandestine stops put them in contact with all kinds of exotic ingredients and spices. But this ship is different, isn't it?

    Well, time to work! Inigo takes a knife and begins his craft, chopping a handful of spicy tubers from an Ixodon colony. The processor is faster, but it lacks precision. Chop them too large and you risk ruining the texture. Too small and the flavor isn't fully released before the pieces are consumed. He turns up the temperature and watches the transformation of insipid ingredients into a culinary delight.

    The echo of heavy steps down the ship's passageways announces the movement of the captain, a large Krona with a strong build and a stronger appetite. Inigo is thankful for the latter, as it gives him the opportunity to experiment further in the ship's kitchen. Few hired gun positions offer such an opportunity.

    A splash of scalding oil on his arm snaps him out of his thoughts, and he hastily turns the temperature down. Stay in control, he thinks, quickly running damage control on the dish. He can't afford to get careless like this. A pinch of yellow firemoss for flavor, a few choice herbs, and a generous helping of Danalian redsalt later and the dish is done. Inigo sets it aside, turning towards the cupboards to continue with--

    Crash! The ship's lights flicker momentarily, then turn red. "Pirate ship boarding party," the communications system rings out. "All crew to stations." Got past our sensors? Stealth tech must be cutting edge, Inigo thinks excitedly. Fancy tech means better spoils. Inigo draws the small handheld blaster holstered on his hip. Simple and inelegant, but a dependable weapon. Time to earn my pay.

    Inigo hurries to the bridge, his heartbeat racing as anticipation builds. A familiar boiling sensation is his veins heralds the buildup of star kith in his system. It sears through his skin, pierces his bones, urges him to act. Now. The comms flare up again, "Tukkav pirates. They have a B.E.A.S.T.!"

    Inigo hears this and immediately holsters his blaster. The kith screams around his body, a raging tempest audible only to him. He draws his blade from its sheath across his back. He firmly grips its pommel, asking it to change. The blade comes alive with dancing flames, their red glow evident even under the emergency lights.

    He races towards the invaders. A B.E.A.S.T. huh? Time to earn my bonus.

  • CenCen Posts: 36Member ✭✭
    So, if anyone's wondering... I'm waiting for the game to start and all these things just sort of pop into my head. Love that @Squeakums added a little something. Feel free to join him!

    Flexing and stretching her fingers, Cen scowls down at the burn marks that mar the skin. Her eyes shift to the glove she is holding in her other, equally scarred hand, but this one in different ways. She lifts the glove up, peering inside it. The darkness makes it impossible to see anything at all, at least until she turns on the headlamp resting above her brow.

    "Now where's that blasted electrode that keeps mis-firing?" she mutters, spreading the opening as wide as she can, tilting it this way and that. "Aha! That's got to be it." Without taking her eyes away from the thing, she plucks a pair of needlenose pliers from the bench next to her. With an immense look of focus, tongue pressing lightly against her upper lip, she uses the tool to grab hold of the electrode.

    A static buzzing sound comes from the far side of the room, followed by a voice, slightly distorted from the craked speakers, shouting, "Cen! Need you up here." However, the woman keeps her focus on the grabbing hold of the devious piece of tech, which continues to elude her. There's a clicking noise and then silence.

    It takes quite a few attempts, as the small thing refuses to remain firmly gripped by the narrow extensions. After finally twisting the wire the piece is mounted on into the right position, she attempts to slip it into the correct slot. As frustration builds, the speaker buzzes again. "Hey!" The voice sounds angrier this time. "Stop screwing around with that lousy tech stuff and haul yourself up here. You're not a blasted Engineer!"

    "Shut it!" she growls back, and as she loses focus for that split second, the electrode once again slips free with a pinging sound. With a sigh, she glares inside the glove again. "I'll be up soon, alright?" Two swift clicks follow her announcement, confirmation that it was received, and she returns to her struggle, this time with better results. There is a satisfying click as it snaps into place and she removes the pliers.

    Pulling back to peer inside again, Cen nods to herself and lets out a soft, "Mhm, should do it." Sliding in a finger instead, she feels around to make sure nothing sticks out, but is met with nothing but a relatively smooth surface. She searches her cluttered bench for a moment, then plucks up an awl, etching a small marking along the edge of the glove, right above the newly-corrected electrode.

    "Alright!" she exclaims enthusiastically, spinning her stool away from the bench, knocking about some of her tools in the process. She flails out to ensure they remain where they should be, slapping her entire arm down on top of them. There is a loud clattering noise as a jar tips over and spills its contents on the floor. She waits until the sound of nuts, bolts and screws skidding across the hard floor fades away, then nods slowly to herself. "Less enthusiasm, more calm. Scientific approach, methodical, clear-headed..."

    She pauses, blinking once, twice. "By Kith, who am I trying to fool?" Rolling her eyes, she turns her attention back to the tech glove in her hand, smile spreading on her lips again. Gleefully, she shoves her hand inside it, wriggling her fingers and tugging at it to make sure it's in its proper place. Turning her hand over, she checks her markings along the edges to make sure they line up with the extensive tattoos along her arm.

    Once she is satisfied, she leans back, closes her eyes, and begins to embrace the kith. As the energies build up, she tugs the lamp off her forehead, and flicks her sleek glasses in place over her eyes. With a press of a button, electrodes unfold from the temples and spread out to connect with the skin on both sides of her head. There is an exuberant expression on her face as she raises her hand and notices the right lights firing up along the display. Her earlier promise forgotten, she gets up from her stool with a grin. Finally time for practice!

    PS: Also, my poor excuse of a swarmglove picture. Not really that good with tech stuff!
  • CenCen Posts: 36Member ✭✭
    Love it, @Theograth!!
  • TravelerTraveler Posts: 23Member
    edited March 12
    Zain is a horrible creature. :open_mouth:

    Edit: was
  • MalashMalash Posts: 39Member ✭✭
    Traveler said:
    Zain is a horrible creature. :open_mouth:

    Edit: was
    Roaches always come back.
    Image result for mib bug

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