Year: 2013

Classic OtherSpace Log: Noah’s Calling

November 30, 2013November 30, 2013 Brody No Comments

Tycoon Oswald Cottington IV, the man behind the lunatic scheme to build a colony vessel called Sanctuary to take people away from a coming darkness, discusses his project over drinks in the Lamplighter Tavern on the Consortium starbase Citadel…

The Lamplighter

This dark, smoky bar plays host to many of the base’s malcontents. Music plays from a jukebox in a corner, and the crud on the floor is at least an inch deep. The tables, although free of glasses and mugs, look as if they could use a good once-over with a damp cloth.

Jones heads into Promenade .

Jones has left.

LeBeau heads into Promenade .

LeBeau has left.

Cottington glances over at the Vollistan. “Another Light Singer. Fancy that.” He smiles faintly.

Volnarra glows orange. “Another? Whom have you met besides myself?”

Anlina arrives from Promenade .

Anlina has arrived.

Anlina tries to kick the door closed behind her out of sheer habit, fails, and looks around.

Cottington smiles, chuckling. “I’ve met a fellow named Volestad. Leads the CCE, I believe.”

Cottington glances toward the source of the noise, and nods with a polite smile to Anlina.

Volnarra tilts her head on her long neck. “Yes, Volestad. He is the most visible Vollistan in the Consortium. We are proud of his success.”

Cottington nods, then takes a sip of his water. He sets the glass on the table. “Success. Ah, yes. A wonderful thing. Pointless, under the circumstances.”

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Classic OtherSpace Log: Tangled Webs

November 30, 2013November 30, 2013 Brody No Comments

John Christian Falkenberg, head of Lord Fagin’s Smugglers Guild, has been shot and left in a coma. Yama Nels has been implicated in treacherous dealings with the Pirate King’s cronies. And three friends conspire to deal with these complications…

Cockpit <Fool’s Pride>

Crammed with equipment, the cockpit is nevertheless designed to seat more than six human-sized occupants in addition to its crew. Two grav-couches form an aisle between them, each apholstered in a dull black. At the aisles head are two gyroscopic chairs, before each a console. A wide viewscreen occupies the fore wall, projecting an image of the space before the ship there for the occupants and crew alike. The area is well-lit, comfortably warm to most species.

The central console, obviously the pilot’s, has obviously been modified from its factory specifications, scopes and buttons jutting out from it at irregular angles adding to its complexity. Just to its port is a weapons console, almost running into the pilot’s, likely itself a post-production addition to the ship, its metal silverish rather than black. The scopes and buttons of this console glow a dull green, adding an unearthly cast to whatever gunner hunches over them.

Vampire whirs into the cockpit aboard his hoverchair, making “woo-woo” noises.

Jaxx is, presently, only visible from the hips down. The rest of his body is obscured by the navigation console, on which he is working. He greets, muffledly, “Good day, Corpse.”

Vampire slides the hoverchair to a halt and smirks at Jaxx. “Bon dieu, mon ami.” He puckers his lips, then looks to Sha. “Ah, and the blushing bride.”

N’Sha-El positively LEAPS up from where she’s been sitting on a grav couch, moodily working on some circuitry. “VAMPIRE!”

Vampire shrinks back from the pounce. “Careful, Cel, you might send me sprawlin’!”

N’Sha-El sends her circuitry flying and dives for Vampire to give him a gigantic hug. “Vampire dammit yer a sight for sore eyes dood.”

Vampire barely avoids toppling off the hoverchair, hanging on barely by gripping the steering toggle. “Yeah, right, gotcha…” He chuckles. “Cel, what’s so important ya wanted me comin’ back into Connieland?”

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Classic OtherSpace Log: Taking Them Back

November 30, 2013 Brody No Comments

A rescue force composed of Vanguard officers and civilian personnel receive an emergency message from Newt Panderyn: The Thul have them aboard a research vessel near B’hira, a planet that is now home to the evil Ri’Kammi Hive Minders. The Thul want to make a deal with their old masters, the Ri’Kammi – allow them to live in peace, without Hiver intervention, and the Thul would provide many denizens of Sanctuary for the Hivers to wreak vengeance for their obliteration (during Arc I: The Price of Expedience). Can our heroes make it in time to stop the Thul and save their comrades?

– LoneWolf –

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A long narrow room with doors coming in from the left, right, and rear of the ship. There are some consoles near the front of the ship and some status panels near the rear of the room. There is a large window looking out towards the front of the ship.

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Kai shrugs, “Not really sure. Never had a chance to test my range.”

MacTabar nods at Fireeyes and turn at Jest: “You are an engineer, am I right?”

LeBeau glances back “Well day wan us to surrender no only us, bu all o sanctuary fo some allies o dares. Day say day will take da children an da breeding pairs wha e’er dat means.”

Denick nods, “Try to reach the ship, one of the children is a mystic, he might be able to hear you.”

Jest’liana nods, “I am..”

Shadowfur glances around the crowd a bit, and spots Firemane. Oh good, at least someone else he knows decently here. Another Demarian too, even better. So guess who he goes to bug…

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Classic OtherSpace Log: Not Rapid, But Reliable

November 30, 2013 Brody No Comments

It is early in the desperate journey of the colony vessel Sanctuary, with her myriad inhabitants still struggling to live together…and tensions are rising…

PING! The lift doors slide open, and a massive Zangali rumbles off, his head hanging due to sheer weight between his shoulders. His spiked hands dangle toward the floor, threatening to scrape the deck.

Marcus is standing with Teel and Firemane, evidently having some sort of a conversation with the two.

Teel nods to Marcus, grinning. “Aight. I look forward ta hearin bout yer changes, Sly.”

Hogan lights up a cigarette, looking at the directory

Firemane glances over toward the Zangali, but suprisingly no disgust shows on her face.

Knuckles cocks his head slightly, lifts his snout and snorts the air. He growls, turning slowly, speaking before he sets eyes on…”Demarian.”

Firemane raises her head, her stance utterly polite and formal. “Yes?”

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